[Illustration: THE TEN PLEASURES OF MARRIAGE
Printed at London 1682
Published by the Navarre Society London]
THE TEN PLEASURES OF
MARRIAGE
AND THE SECOND PART
THE CONFESSION OF THE
NEW MARRIED COUPLE
ATTRIBUTED TO
APHRA BEHN
_REPRINTED WITH AN INTRODUCTION_
BY
JOHN HARVEY
AND THE ORIGINAL TWENTY PLATES
AND TWO ENGRAVED TITLES
RE-ENGRAVED
LONDON: MCMXXII
_PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR THE NAVARRE SOCIETY LIMITED_
_Printed in Great Britain_
* * * * *
INTRODUCTION
The Restoration brought back to England something more than a king and
the theatre. It renewed in English life the robust vitality of humour
which had been repressed under the Commonwealth--though, in spite of
repression, there were, even among the Puritan divines, men like the
author of _Joanereidos_, whose self-expression ran the whole gamut
from freedom to licentiousness.
It is a curious thing, that fundamental English humour. It can be
vividly concentrated into a single word, as when, for instance, the
chronicler of _The Ten Pleasures of Marriage_ revives the opprobrious
term for a tailor--"pricklouse": the whole history of the English
woollen industry and of the stuffy Tudor and Stuart domestic
architecture is in the nickname. Or a single phrase can light up an
idea, as when, a few days before marriage, "the Bridegroom is running
up and down like a dog." But, on the other hand, the spirit manifests
itself sometimes in exuberance, as when Urquhart and Motteux
metagrobolized Rabelais into something almost more tumescent and
overwhelming than the original. In that vein of humour the present
work frequently runs. The author is as ready to pile up his epithets
as Urquhart himself. Let the Nurse go, he says, "for then you'll have
an Eater, a Stroy-good, a Stufgut, a Spoil-all, and Prittle-pratler,
less than you had before."
It is, in fact, as an example of English humour--exaggerated, no
doubt, by the reaction from Puritanism--that _The Ten Pleasures of
Marriage_ should be viewed, in the main. It is true, however, that it
is of uncertain parentage and must own to foreign kin. A well-known
but (by a strange coincidence) almost equally rare book is Antoine de
la Salle's _Quinze Joies de Mariage_. It seems possible that this was
translated into English. At any rate, in the year in which _The Ten
Pleasures_ was published--1682-1683--the following work was registered
at Stationers' Hall: _The Woman's Advocate, or fifteen real comforts
of matrimony, being in requital of the late fifteen_ sham _comforts_.
Moreover, _The Ten Pleasures_ was in all probability printed
abroad--Hazlitt thinks at The Hague or Amsterdam. The very first page
in the original edition contains one of several hints of Batavian
production--"younger" is printed "jounger." The curious allusion to
the great French poet, Clément Marot, may also suggest a temporary
foreign sojourn for the author for though Marot was doubtless known
to English readers in the seventeenth century, the exact reference of
the allusion is not at all obvious. It very possibly reflects on the
fact that in 1526 the Sorbonne condemned both Marot and his poem
_Colloque de l'abbé et de la femme sçavante_; and Marot certainly
wrote about women and marriage. He is not, however, a "stock" figure
in English literary allusion, either learned or popular, and the fact
suggests at least familiarity with the literature of other countries.
But there can be no doubt of the English character of the text both in
general and in detail. It is redolent of English middle-class life as
it was in the days before our grandfathers decided that the human body
was an obscene thing and its functions deplorable. It has the
middle-class love of good food--Colchester oysters (famous then as
now), asparagus, peaches, apricots, candied ginger, China oranges,
comfits, pancakes--enough to make the mouth water. It has the solid
English furniture, with all its ritual of solemnity; "vallians"
(valences), "daslles" (tassels), big bedsteads, Chiny-ware, plush
chairs, linen cupboards. It has all the fuss of preparation for
childbirth--the accumulations of wrappings, the obstetric furniture,
the nods and winks of the midwife and the gossips, authentic ancestors
of Mrs Sarah Gamp and Mrs Elizabeth Prig--why, the haste to fetch the
midwife at the crisis might almost be the foundation upon which
Dickens built the visit of Seth Pecksniff, Esq., to Kingsgate Street,
High Holborn.
It has likewise many touches which show knowledge of the average
fairly prosperous English life--the merchant's, the shopkeeper's, the
sea-captain's. The author clearly knew the routine of trade. He knew
that at New Year's Day the "day-book" had to be fully written up for
scrutiny and stock-taking and sending out of accounts. (But the
pleasures or torments of love are such that "the squire is so full of
business that he can't spare half-an-hour to write it out." The brief
description of his feelings which follows, conventional, perhaps, to
some extent, has a certain life in it, as if the writer, embittered,
was recalling his own youthful experience.) He knew, too, what to-day
we only know in the mass through the newspapers, that a merchant's
business depends not only upon watching the markets, but upon the
actual supply of material--"what commodities are arrived or expected,"
and whether tea is up ½d. or tin ¾d. down, or if hogs closed firm. The
commercial world changes only its methods of communication and
expression.
The first chapter, indeed, is of genuine historical and literary
interest. From the literary point of view, it is a near
descendant--collateral, if not direct, and anyhow based on the same
English empirical humour of life--of Thomas Overbury's _A Wife_
(1614--only one unique copy of this is known to exist), John Earle's
_Microcosmographie_ (1628), in prose, and Thomas Bastard's
_Chrestoleros_* (1598), in verse. It is an early instance of the
stringing together, in a connected narrative, of the material
previously used only in short sketches or "characters"; and so it is
directly in the succession which in the end produced what is perhaps
the most enduring and individual phenomenon in our literature--the
English novel.
* A copy of the very rare first edition fetched £155 at the
Britwell sale in February 1922.
Of course the book says things we do not say now openly--though the
traditional _corpus scriptorum nondum scriptorum_ which almost all men
and even some women know is handed on, a rather noisome torch, from
generation to generation, solely by word of mouth, and flickers now
and again in _The Ten Pleasures_. But they were said openly then, and
by great writers. There is nothing here so nauseatingly indecent as
the viler poems of the Rev. Robert Herrick and the Very Rev. the Dean
of Dublin, Jonathan Swift, D.D. There are salacious hints, there are
bawdy words, but no more than Falstaff or the wife of Bath or the
Summoner or Tom Jones might have used--less, on the whole. There is no
need, to borrow a phrase from the book's sequel, to "make use of the
gesture of casting up the whites of the eyes." "True-hearted souls
will solace their spirits with a little laughter, and never busy their
brains with the subversion of Church and State government."
Certainly the writer favoured the jovial life. Food and wine flow in
his pages like milk and honey in Canaan. There is no room in his house
for the Puritans, not even, apparently, in the bringing up of his
child. "Those that frequent Mr Baxter's Puritanical Holding-forth"
must be merry when they come to his feast. He will have no
_Catechizing of Families_--a discourse published by Richard Baxter in
this very year 1683; and the only _Compassionate Counsel_--a Baxter
pamphlet of 1681--he is likely to offer to young men is to take life
lightly, as his hero does, and above all, not to marry.
For that is the true point of this lively piece of irony (the irony is
less well sustained in the sequel, _The Confession of the New Married
Couple_, and dropped altogether in the bitter _Letter_ at the end of
_The Ten Pleasures_). It is a savage attack upon women--upon (to quote
a Rabelaisian sentence) "the quarrelsome, crabbed, lavish, proud,
opinionated, domineering and unbridled nature of the female sex."
Women, he says, "are in effect of less value than old Iron, Boots and
Shoes, etc., for we find both Merchants and money ready always to buy
those commodities." The analogy is an unfortunate one, for one of his
implications is that women can easily be bought. But he--if it is a
"he"--is in deadly earnest. Love, marriage, he asks scornfully--what
are they? A romance, are they? The true happiness of life? Very well:
here are the pleasures of them. You will be in love and make a
match--and look at all the worry of the settlement, in which, by the
way, you may often be defrauded. You will get married--a fine
ceremony, with a fine feast; and all the nasty old women of the
neighbourhood will come and tell bawdy stories to enliven the
occasion. You get married, and thereafter you are at the mercy of your
wife, who will indulge your wishes or not as suits her mood. Your
house will be all awry if she has but a slight headache. When the baby
comes, the place will be filled with old women and baby-linen and
medical apparatus, and you will have all the anxieties of a father
added to the discomforts of a neglected husband. For the rest, your
wife will know how "to cuckold, jilt, and sham" as well as any gay
lady of Covent Garden. And so on.
Much of the satire is acute and well-turned, often novel in expression
if not in thought. But it is, as has been suggested, in the picture of
English middle-class life under James II. that the importance of the
book lies. Here is the domestic side of what the great diarists and
the great poets hint at, and the excess of which municipal records,
those treasuries of private appearances in public, chronicle with the
severity of judgment. You have the young couple going (alas that the
river for this purpose has, so to speak, been moved farther up its own
course!) for a row on the Thames, with Lambeth, Bankside and Southwark
echoing to their laughter. They might visit the New Spring Gardens at
Vauxhall; but they would probably avoid the old (second) Globe Theatre
on Bankside, for it was a meeting-house at which the formidable Baxter
preached. Or they might go into Kent and pick fruit, even as
"beanfeasters" do to this day; or to Hereford for its cider and perry,
the drinking of which is a custom not yet extinct. Or maybe only for
an outing to the pleasant village of Hackney. They would see the
streets gay with signs which (outside Lombard Street) few houses but
taverns wear to-day--the sign of the _Silkworm_ or the _Sheep_, or
that fantastic schoolmaster's emblem, the _Troubled Pate_ with a crown
upon it. And when they stopped for rest at the sign of a bush upon a
pole, how they would fall to upon the Martinmas beef, the
neats-tongues, the cheesecakes! It is true they might find prices high
and crops poor; but such things must be.... "This is the use, custom,
and fruits of war. If the impositions and taxes run high, the country
farmer can't help that; you know that the war costs money, and it must
be given, or else we should lose all." Had they learnt that as long
ago as 1682?
As a _genre_ work the book is not unique; rather is it typical. The
gradual social settlement after the Civil War, destined to develop
into stagnation under the first Georges, caused didactic works, guides
to manners, housewifery and sport, society handbooks, to proliferate.
_The Ten Pleasures_ mentions some standard works, which every good
housewife would probably possess--Nicholas Culpepper's medical
handbooks, for instance, and _The Complete Cook_, which indeed, as
part of _The Queen's Closet Opened_, had reappeared in its natal year
1682-1683. The same year saw the birth of such works as _The Complete
Courtier_, _The Complete Compting House_, _The Gentleman Jockey_, _The
Accomplished Ladies' Delight._ Life was being scheduled, tabulated, in
readiness for the complacent century about to open. It was also being
explored, not only in such works as _The Ten Pleasures_ and _The
Woman's Advocate_, but in others (entered as published, but in many
cases not known to be now extant) like _The Wonders of the Female
World_, _The Swaggering Damsel_, or _Several New Curtain Lectures_,
and _Venus in ye smoake, or, the nunn in her smock, in curious
dialogues addressed to the lady abbesse of love's parradice_--all
produced in that same _annus mirabilis_ of outspoken domesticity.
_The Ten Pleasures_, apart from its intrinsic interest, is
exceptionally important from a book-collector's point of view. It is
of the utmost rarity. There is no copy in the British Museum and none
in the Cambridge University Library. In fact, there are only two
copies known of the whole work--one in the Bodleian (wanting one
plate), and that from which the present text is taken. The Huth
Collection had a copy of the first part only. Both the fuller copies
contain the second part--_The Confession_--and evidently the two
parts, though they have separate title pages, and were published at
different times, were intended to form a complete work.
Who wrote the book? "A. Marsh, Typogr. [apher]," says the title page.
A. Marsh cannot be traced, nor is the work included in the Stationers'
Registers for the period. It may be that Marsh thought it too
licentious for registration (an improbable supposition), and so, as
Hazlitt suggests, printed it abroad.
But the initials A.B. at the end of the _Letter_ in the first part may
be a clue, though a perplexing one. It is a plausible guess that they
are those of Aphra or Aphara Behn, the dramatist and poet, the first
woman to earn her living by her pen. It is true that she was, so to
speak, a feminist: the preface and epilogue to her _Sir Patient
Fancy_ speak bitterly of those who would not go to her plays because
they were by a woman. On the other hand, she had a free pen, to say
the least of it, and often a witty one. And she had Dutch
associations. Her husband was a Dutch merchant living in London. She
had herself been on secret service in the Netherlands. She translated
a Dutch book on oracles. If the book was printed in Holland, she of
all people could get the work done. And she knew the city of London
intimately.
There are, too, some odd details in her plays, especially in _Sir
Patient Fancy_, which recall touches in _The Ten Pleasures_. She
introduces a Padua doctor on the stage. She shows, in several of her
plays, a curious interest in medicine, especially quack medicine. Sir
Patient, a hypochondriac, thinks he is swelling up like the "pipsy"
husband. Isabella, in the same play, says "keeping begins to be as
ridiculous as matrimony.... The insolence and expense of their
mistresses has almost tired out all but the old and doting part of
mankind." It is not inconceivable that in a freakish or embittered
moment this singular woman threw herself with malicious joy into an
attack on her own sex.
"Love in fantastic triumph sat...." Aphra Behn's great lyric
deservedly lives. If she wrote _The Ten Pleasures_, the sort of love
she describes in it still lives, but hardly in fantastic triumph. Yet
if we want to know our fellow-men, we must know something of it. Apart
from the curious interest of its rarity, _The Ten Pleasures_ is a
sturdy piece of human nature.
JOHN HARVEY.
* * * * *
PUBLISHER'S PREFACE
"Of the making of many books there is no end," nor is there an end to
the Romance of books, as the little volume here, privately reprinted
by the Navarre Society, is surely proof most positive. The original is
a small thick volume; it bears the imprint "London, Printed in the
year 1683," and but one perfect copy is known; that copy lay
unappreciated in the heart of London in an antiquarian bookseller's
shop.
Fortunately, however, for our literature and for students of the
manners of the commonality of the period it was seen by a colleague,
who wondered why he did not know it. After purchasing it he found the
reason why--the Bodleian Library alone possessed a copy of the work
(imperfect); later a copy of the first part (only) appeared in the
last portion of the sale of the great Huth Collection. The present
text is taken from the perfect copy mentioned above.
The curious title rather damns the literary interest of the book,
which presents pictures of the cit and his wife at work and play
which Fielding, had he lived in the seventeenth century, might have
written. It is thought that the book was printed in Holland, and if
so, it may well be that the ship carrying the printed sheets to
England foundered in the North Sea, or was sunk by enemy craft. There
can be no doubt that such a work would not have escaped the wits of
the time; if it had survived for ordinary circulation, mention would
have been made of it, however small an edition had been sold. No other
so likely reason for its extreme rarity presents itself.
It is reprinted, as faithfully as the altered manners of our time
permit, with a Preface by John Harvey, who attributes the work to the
industrious and sometimes brilliant Mrs Aphra Behn, a discovery which
the Navarre Society believe to be well grounded. They hope that the
issue of the book to their subscribers may help to confirm or refute
that lady's responsibility for so graceless an attack upon her sex.
Whether she did or did not write it, the fact remains that a work so
vividly representative of Restoration life and literature is rescued
from the obscurity to which its scarceness has hitherto condemned it
and worthily preserved for scholars and amateurs of the future.
* * * * *
THE TEN
PLEASURES
OF
MARRIAGE.
* * * * *
THE TEN
PLEASURES
OF
MARRIAGE,
_Relating_
All the delights and contentments that are mask'd under the bands of
Matrimony.
Written by A. MARSH, Typogr.
LONDON,
Printed in the Year, 1682.
* * * * *
TO THE READER.
Courteous Reader,
_This small Treatise which I here present unto thee is the fruit of
some spare hours, that my cogitations, after they had been for a small
time, between whiles, hovering to and fro in the Air, came fluttring
down again, still pitching upon the subject of the Ten Pleasures of
Marriage, in each of which I hope thou wilt find somthing worthy of
thy acceptance, because I am sure 'tis matter of such nature as hath
never before been extant, and especially in such a method; neither
canst thou well expect it to be drest up in any thing of nice and neat
words, as other subjects may be, but only to be clad in plain habit
most fit for the humour of the Fancy. If I perceive that it please
thee, and is not roughly or unkindly dealt withall; nor brain'd in the
Nativity, to spoil its generation of a further product, it will
incourage me to proceed upon a second part, some say of the same_
Tune, _but I mean to the same_ Purpose, _and apparelled very near the
same dress: In the mean time, with hopes that thou wilt be kind to
this, and give it a gentle reception, from him who is thine.
Farewell._
* * * * *
THE TEN PLEASURES OF MARRIAGE.
The Nuptial estate trailing along with it so many cares, troubles &
calamities, it is one of the greatest admirations, that people should
be so earnest and desirous to enter themselves into it. In the younger
sort who by their sulphurous instinct, are subject to the tickling
desires of nature, and look upon that thing called Love through a
multiplying glass, it is somewhat pardonable: But that those who are
once come to the years of knowledge and true understanding should be
drawn into it, methinks is most vilely foolish, and morrice fooles
caps were much fitter for them, then wreaths of Lawrel. Yet stranger
it is, that those who have been for the first time in that horrible
estate, do, by a decease, cast themselves in again to a second and
third time. Truly, if for once any one be through contrary
imaginations misled, he may expect some hopes of compassion, and
alledge some reasons to excuse himself: but what comfort, or
compassion can they look for, that have thrown themselves in a second
and third time? they were happy, if they could keep their lips from
speaking, and ty their tongues from complaining, that their miseries
might not be more and more burdened with scoffings which they truly
merit.
And tho not only the real truth of this, but ten times more, is as
well known to every one, as the Sun shine at noon day; nevertheless we
see them run into it with such an earnestness, that they are not to be
counselled, or kept back from it, with the strength of _Hercules_;
despising their golden liberty, for chains of horrid slavery.
But we see the bravest sparks, in the very blossoming of their youth,
how they decay? First, Gentleman-like, they take pleasure in all
manner of noble exercises, as in keeping time all dancing, singing of
musick, playing upon instruments, speaking of several languages,
studying at the best Universities, and conversing with the learnedst
Doctors, &c. or else we see them, before they are half perfect in any
exercise, like carl-cats in March run mewing and yawling at the doors
of young Gentlewomen; and if any of those have but a small matter of
more then ordinary beauty, (which perhaps is gotten by the help of a
damn'd bewitched pot of paint) she is immediately ador'd like a Saint
upon an Altar: And in an instant there is as much beauty and
perfection to be seen in her, as ever Juno, Venus and Pallas possessed
all together.
And herewith those Gentile Pleasures, that have cost their Parents so
much money, and them so much labour and time are kickt away, and
totally abandoned that they may keep company with a painted Jezebel.
They are then hardly arrived at this intitled happiness, but they must
begin to chaw upon the bitter shell of that nut, the kernel whereof,
without sighing, they cannot tast; having no sooner obtained access to
the Lady, but are as suddenly possest with thousands of thoughts what
they shall do to please the Sweet object. Being therewith so
tosticated, that all their other business is dispersed, and totally
laid aside. This is observable not only in youth of the first degree,
but also in persons that have received promotion.
For if he be a Theologue, his books drop out of his hands, and ly
stragling about his study, even as his sences do, one among another.
And if you hear him preach, his whole Sermon is nothing but of Love,
which he then turns & winds to Divinity as far as possible it can be
fitted.
If it be a Doctor of Physick, oh! he has so much work with his own
sicknes, that he absolutely forgets all his Patients, though some of
them were lying at deaths dore; and lets the Chyrurgian, whom he had
appointed certainly to meet there, tarry to no purpose, taking no
more notice of his Patients misery, and the peril of his wounds, then
if it did not concern him. But if at last he doth come, it is when the
wound's festered, the Ague in the blood, or that the body is
incurable. So far was he concern'd in looking after that Love-apple,
or Night-shadow, for the cure of his own burning distemper.
If he be a Counsellor, his whole brain is so much puzzel'd how to
begin and pursue the Process for the obtaining his Mistress in
Marriage; that all other suits tho they be to the great detriment of
poor Widows and Orphans are laid aside, and wholly rejected. Then
being desired by his Clients to meet them at anyplace, and to give his
advice concerning the cause, he hath had such earnest business with
his Mistress, that he comes an hour or two later then was appointed.
But coming at last, one half of the time that can be spent, is little
enough to make Mr. Counsellor understand in what state the cause stood
at the last meeting. And then having heard what the Plaintif and
Defendant do say, he only tells them, I must have clearer evidences,
the accounts better adjusted, and your demand in writing, before I can
make any decision of this cause to both your satisfactions.
There they stand then, and look one upon another, not daring to say
otherwise, but _'tis very well Sir, we will make them all ready
against the next meeting_; and are, with grief at heart, forced to
see as much and sometimes more expences made at the meeting, as the
whole concern of their debate amounted to. Then it is, come let's now
discourse of matters of state, and drink a glass about to the health
of the King & the prosperity of our Country and all the inhabitants;
which is done only to the purpose, that coming to his Mistress, he may
boastingly say, my dear, just now at a meeting we remembered you in a
glass, & I'l swear the least drop of it was so delicious to me, as
ever _Nectar_ and _Ambrose_ could be, that the Poets so highly
commend.
If Counsellors, and other learned men, that are in love, do thus; what
can the unlearned Notary's do less? Even nothing else, but when they
are writing, scribble up a multiplicity of several words, unnecessary
clauses, and make long periods; not so much as touching or mentioning
the principal business; and if he does, writes it clear contrary to
the intent of the party concern'd: By that means making both Wills and
other Deeds in such a manner, that the end agrees not with the
beginning, nor the middle with either. Which occasions between
friends, near relations, and neighbors, great differences, and an
implacable hatred; forcing thereby the monies of innocent and
self-necessitated people, into the Pockets of Counsellors and
Attorneys.
And alas the diligent Merchant, when he has gotten the least smatch of
this frensie, his head runs so much upon wheels, that he daily
neglects his Change-time; forgets his Bils of exchange; and is alwaies
a Post or two behind hand with his Letters: So that he knows not what
Merchandises rise or fall, or what commodities are arrived or
expected. And by this means buies in Wares, at such rates, that in few
daies he loses 20, yea sometimes 30 per cent. by them. Nay, this
distemper is so hot in his head, that thereby he Ships his goods in a
Vessel, where the Master and his Mate are for the most part drunk, and
who hardly thrice in ten times make a good voyage.
And who knows not how miserable that City and Country is, when a
military person happens to ly sick in this Hospital. If he be in
Garison, he doth nothing but trick up himself, walk along the streets,
flatter his Mistress, and vaunt of his knowledge and Warlike deeds;
though he scarce understands the exercising of his Arms, I will not
mention encamping in a Field, Fortification, the forming of Batalions,
and a great deal more that belongs to him.
And coming into Campagne; alas this wicked Love-ague continues with
him; and runs so through his blood, that both the open air, and wide
fields are too narrow for him. Yea and tho he formerly had (especially
by his Mistris) the name of behaving himself like a second Mars; yet
now he'l play the sick-hearted, (I dare not say the faint-hearted) to
the end he may, having put on his fine knotted Scarf, and powdered
Periwig, only go to shew himself to that adorable Babe, his Lady
Venus, Leaving oftentimes a desperate siege, and important State
affairs, to accompany a lame, squint-ey'd, and crook-back'd
_Jeronimo_.
And if, by favour or recommandation, he happen to be intrusted with
any strong City or Fort that is besieged, he's presently in fear of
his own Bom, and practises all sorts of waies and means how he shall
best make a capitulation, that so leaving the place, he may go again
to his fair one.
And alas, what doth not the Master of a Ship, and his Mate hazard,
when they are sick of this malady? What terrible colds, and roaring
seas doth he not undergo, through an intemperate desire that he hath
to be with his nittebritch'd Peggy? How often doth he hazard his
Owners Ship, the Merchants Goods, and his own life, for an inconstant
draggle-tail; that perhaps before he has been three daies at Sea, hath
drawn her affection from him, and given promise to another? Yet
nevertheless, tho the raging Waves run upon the Ship, and fly over his
head, he withstands it all. Nor is the main Ocean, or blustering
_Boreas_, powerfull enough, to cool his raging fire, and drive those
damps out of his brain. The tempestuousness of the weather, having
driven him far out of his course; his only wishes and prayer is, oh,
that he might be so happy, but for a moment to see his Beacon, those
twinkling eys of his dearly beloved Margery Mussel! Then all things
would be well enough! Tho he and all that are with him, were
immediately Shipwrackt, and made a prey for the Fishes. And if,
unexpectedly, fortune so favour him, that he happens to see the Coast,
oh, he cannot tarry for the Pilot! but tho it be misty weather, and he
hoodwink'd by Venus, still he sails forward, running all in danger,
that before was so far preserved.
And if the Shop-keeper once sets foot into this destructive
Wilderness, he doth nothing less then look to his shop, and wait upon
his Customers. Spending most part of his time in finical dressing
himself, to accompany his Mistriss, and with a Coach or Pair of Oars
to do her all manner of caresses. Then his whole discourse is, with
what good custom he is blest above others; but seldom saies, that with
waiting upon his Lady, and by indeavouring to please her above all
things, how miserably he neglects it, by which means, shop's not only
found without a Master, but the servants without government. And at
New-year, the day-book is not written fair over; and if any body
desires their reckoning, the squire is so full of business, that he
can't spare half an hour to write it out: For where he goes, where he
stands, what he thinks, what he does, all his cogitations are imploi'd
to think how delicious it is to press those soft lips of his beloved,
and then out of an unfeigned heart to be lov'd again, sometimes
receiving a kiss. Thus he idles away all his time, and all his
business with his sences runs a wool-gathering.
To be short, let it be what sort of person it will, they no sooner
touch the shell of this Marriage-nut, but before they can come to tast
the kernel they look for; they feel nothing else then thorns and
briars of sorrow and misery. If there be any one that thinks he is
gotten a footstep further then another, in the favour of his Mistriss,
and that in time he questions not th' obtaining his desired happiness;
immediately, that imagined joy, is crush'd with an insuing despair;
being presently molested with a fear, that Father, Mother, Uncle, or
Tutor will not like his person, or that he has not means enough; or
else either they, or the Gentlewoman, will make choice of another in
his place. Or, if he sees another have access to the Lady as well as
himself, at the same moment he's possessed with jealousie, and falls a
pondering how he shall make this Rival odious in the eys of her. And
if the other get any advantage of him; then he challenges him to
fight; hazarding in that manner his precious life, for the getting of
her, who when he had her, would perhaps, occasion him a thousand
torments of death and misery. Pray observe what pleasures this
introduction imparts unto us; alas, what may we then expect from the
marriage it self?
Really, those that will take this into due consideration, who would
not but curse the Gentlewoman that draws him into such a raging
madness? yet Lovers go forward, and please your selves with this
imagined happiness; but know, that if according to your hope, you
obtain her for a Bride, that at the least you must expect a sence and
feeling of the Ten insuing Pleasures.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Folio 10. _Published by the Navarre Society, London._]
THE FIRST PLEASURE.
_The Consent is given, the Match concluded, and the Wedding kept._
Now, O Lover, till this time you have been indeavouring, slaving,
turmoiling, sighing, groaning, hoping and begging to get from those
slow and tardy lips, that long-wish'd for word of Consent; you have
also sent many messengers to your Mistriss, to her Parents and Tutors,
who were as able to express themselves as the best Orators, but could
obtain nothing; yet at last that long desired Word, is once descended
by the Draw-bridge of her lips, like a rich cordial upon your
languishing heart. You have vanquish'd all your Rivals. Oh who can
imagine your joy! What you think, or what you do, still your thoughts
glance upon your happiness! your Mistriss now will be willing; denials
are laid aside: only ther's a little shame and fear, which canot of a
sudden be so totally forgotten, because the marriage is not yet
concluded. Well, O Lover, who could desire a greater happiness then
you now possess! For what you will, she will also: and what she
desires, is all your pleasure. You may now tumble in a bed of Lillies
and Roses; for all sour looks, are turn'd to sweet smiles, and she
that used to thrust you from her, pulls you now every foot to her.
Yea, those snow-white breasts, which before you durst scarce touch
with your little finger; you may now, without asking leave, grasp by
whole handfuls. Certainly, they that at full view, consider all this
rightly; who can doubt but that you are the happiest man in the World?
O unspeakable pleasure!
But, O triumphant Lover, let not however your joyfull mind run too
much upon these glistering things: be a little moderate in your
desired pleasures, if it might happen that there come some
cross-grain'd obstructions; for I have oftentimes seen, that all those
suspected roses, come forth with many pricking thorns; insomuch that
the mouth which at first was saluted with so many thousand kisses, and
appear'd as if it had been cover'd with the dew of heaven; was
compared to be the jaws of _Cerberus_. And those breasts, which before
were the curded _Nacter_-hills, and called the Banket of the Gods, I
have seen despised to be like stinking Cows-Udders, I, and call'd
worse names to boot. Be therefore, (I say) somewhat moderate and
prudent, for fear it might happen that the prices of this market might
fall very suddenly, though perhaps not so horribly.
Nevertheless you have great reason to be merry, for this week, 'tis
hop'd there'l be a meeting to close up the match; and it is requisite,
that you should go unto all the friends, that must be present at the
meeting, to hear when their occasions will permit them, and what day
and hour they will appoint to set upon the business, herewith you have
work to traverse the City, and who knows whether you'l find half of
them at home. And then those that you do find, one is ready to day,
another to morrow, a third next day, or in the next week. So that by
this first Pleasure, you have also a little feeling of the first
trouble. Which, if you rightly consider, is to your advantage, because
you may the better use your self to the following. And of how greater
State and Quality the person is whom you have chosen, so accordingly
this trouble generally happens to be more.
But the mirth increases abundantly; when, after your indeavours,
troubles and turmoils, you finally see all the friends met together,
and you doubt not but the match will be closed and agreed upon. But be
here also a little moderate in your mirth, because oftentimes the
friends handle this matter like a bargaining; and will lay the mony
bags of each side in a balance, as you may see by the Plate.
In the mean while you may be kissing and slabbering of your Mistris in
the next room; or contriving what's to be done about the marriage, and
keeping of the Wedding; but perhaps, through the discord of the
friends, it will not be long before you are disturb'd; the differences
oft rising so high, that the sound thereof, clatters through the
Walls, into the ears of the Lovers. For many times the Portion of one
is too great, and what's given with the other is too little; or that
the Parents of the Bridegroom, promise too little with their Son; and
the Brides Parents will give too little with their Daughter. Or else
that by some subtle Contract of Matrimony, they indeavour to make the
goods of each side disinheritable, &c. So that it appears among the
friends, as if there could be nothing don in the matter.
And in plain truth, the Parents and friends, who know very well that
it is not all hony in the married estate; see oftentimes that it were
better for these two to remain unmarried, then to bring each other
into misery; and can find no grounds or reasons, but rather to
disswade then perswade the young folks to a marriage.
But tho, on each side, they use never such powerfull arguments, to
the young people, 'tis to no purpose; for there's fire in the flax,
and go how it will, it must be quencht. For the maid thinks, if this
match should be broke, who knows but that all the freedom that we have
had with one another, might come to be spread abroad, and then I am
ruined for ever. And the young man, seeing that his Mistris is so
constant to him, not hearkning to the advice of her friends, is so
struck to the heart with such fiery flames of love, that he's resolved
never to leave her, tho he might feed upon bread and water, or go a
begging with her: So, that he saies, Bargain by the Contract of
Matrimony for what you will, nay tho you would write Hell and
Damnation, I am contented, and resolve to sign it: but thinking by
himself, with a Will all this may be broken, and new made again:
hardly beleeving, that this fair weather, should be darkned with black
clouds; or that this splendent Serenissimo, would be obstructed by
Eclipses.
But finally, there comes an appearance of the desired pleasure; for
the knot is tied, and the Publick Notary doth at large and very
circumstantially write the Contract of Matrimony, which is signed by
both parties. Oh Heavens! this is a burthen from my heart, and a
Milstone removed out of the way. Here's now right matter for more then
ordinary mirth; all the friends wish the young couple much joy; about
goes a health, the good success of the marriage, and every one wishing
them tubs full of blessings, and houses full of prosperity,
_If ev'ry one that wish, did half but give,
How richly this young couple, then might live._
Yet it e'en helps as much as it will; if they get nothing, they lose
nothing by it. And thinking by themselves, you'l in time see what it
produces. Then if there be but one among them who is talkative, and
that by drinking merrily the good success of the approaching marriage,
his tongue begins to run; he relates what hapned to him at the closing
of his marriage, keeping of his wedding, and in his married estate;
and commonly the conclusion of his discourse is, that he thought at
first he had the World at will; but then there came this, and then
that, and a thousand other vexatious things, which continually, or for
the most part of the time with great grief and trouble had kept him so
much backward, that it was long before he could get forward in the
World.
Well, M^{r}. Bridegroom, you may freely tickle your fancy to the top,
and rejoice superabundantly, that the Match is concluded; & you have
now gotten your legs into the stocks, and your arms into such desired
for Fetters, that nothing but death it self can unloosen them.
And you, M^{rs}. Bride, who look so prettily, with such a smirking
countenance; be you merry, you are the Bride; yea the Bride that
occasions all this tripping and dansing; now you shall have a husband
too, a Protector, who will hug and imbrace you, and somtimes tumble
and rumble you, and oftimes approach to you with a morning salutation,
that will comfort the very cockles of your heart. He will (if all
falls out well) be your comforter, your company-keeper, your
care-taker, your Gentleman-Usher; nay all what your heart wish for, or
the Heavens grant unto you. He'l be your Doctor to cure your
palefac'dness, your pains in the reins of your back, and at your
heart, and all other distempers whatsoever. He will also wipe of all
your tears with kisses; and you shall not dream of that thing in the
night, but he'l let it be made for you by day. And may not then your
Bride-maids ask, why should not you be merry?
But alas you harmless Dove, that think you are going into Paradice;
pray tell me, when you were going to sign the Contract of marriage,
what was the reason that you alter'd so mightily, & that your hand
shook so? Verily, though I am no Astronomer, or caster of Figures; yet
nevertheless me-thought it was none of the best signs; and that one
might already begin to make a strange Prognostication from it; the
events whereof would be more certain then any thing that _Lilly_ or
any other Almanack maker ever writ. But we'l let that alone, for in a
short time it will discover it self.
Therefore, Mistress Bride, make you merry, and since you have gotten
your desire to be the Bride before any of your Bridemaids; it would be
unreasonable that you should be troubled now with any other business.
And indeed here's work enough for the ordering of things that you must
trouble your head with; for the Brides Apparel must be made, and the
Stufs, laces, lining, cuffs, and many other things are yet to be
bought. Well, who can see an end of all your business! There's one
piece of stuf is too light, and another too dark; the third looks dull
and hath no gloss. And see here's three or four daies gon, and little
or nothing bought yet.
And the worst of all is, that whil'st you are thus busie in
contriving, ordering and looking upon things, you are every moment
hindered, & taken off from it, with a continual knocking at the dore
to sollicite one to deliver all sorts of Comfits, another to deliver
the ornaments for the Brides Garland, Flowers, &c, a third to be Cook,
& Pastryman, & so many more, which come one after another thundering
so at the door, that it is one bodies work to let them in, and carry
their message to the Bride.
Oh, call the Bride, time will deceive us! The Semstress, Gorget-maker,
and Starcher, must be sent for, and the linnen must be bought &
ordered for the Bridegrooms shirts, the Brides smocks, Cuffs, Bands;
and handkerchifs; & do but see, the day is at an end again: my brains
are almost addle, and nothing goes forward: For M^{rs}. Smug said she
would bring linnen, and M^{rs}. Smooth laces, but neither of them both
are yet come. Run now men and maids as if the Devil were in you; and
comfort your selves, that the Bride will reward you liberally for your
pains.
Well, M^{rs}. Bride, how's your head so out of order! might not you
now do (as once a Schoolmaster did) hang out the sign of a troubled
pate with a Crown upon it? How glad you'l be when this confusion is
once over? could you ever have thought that there was so much work to
be found in it? But comfort your self therewith, that for these few
troublesom daies, you'l have many pleasant nights. And it is not your
case alone, to be in all this trouble, for the Bridegroom is running
up and down like a dog, in taking care that the Banns of Matrimony may
be proclaim'd. And now he's a running to and again through the City,
to see if he can get Bridemen to his mind, that are capacitated to
entertain the Bridemaids and Gentlewomen with pretty discourses,
waiting upon them, & to make mirth & pleasure for them and the rest of
the Company. Besides that he's taking care for the getting of some
good _Canary_, _Rhenish_ & _French_ Wines, that those friends which
come to wish the Bride and Bridegroom much joy, may be presented with
a delicate glass of Wine. And principally, that those who are busie
about the Brides adornments, may tast the Brides tears.
But really friends, if you come to tast the Brides tears now, 'tis a
great while too soon: But if you'l have of the right and unfeigned
ones, you must come some months hence.
O Bridegroom, who can but pitty you, that you must thus toil, moil,
and run up and down, and the Jeweller and you have just now mist one
another; he is doubtless chatting with the Bride, and shewing of her
some costly Jewels, which perhaps dislike her ne'r a whit the worse;
and what she has then a mind to, you'l find work enough to disswade
her from, let them cost what they will; for she'l let you take care
for that. And it is time enough to be considered on, when the weddings
over. For now you have as much work as you can turn your self to, in
getting all your things in a readiness from the Tailor, Semstress, and
Haberdasher. And herewith, alas, you'l find that oftentimes two or
three weeks are consumed in this sort of business, with the greatest
slavery imaginable.
Yet, M^{r}. Bridegroom, for all these troubles, you may expect this
reward, to have the pleasure of the best place in the Chancel, with a
golden Tapistry laid before you, and for your honour the Organs
playing. The going with a Coach to marry at a Country Town, has not
half so much grace, and will not at all please the Bride: it is
therefore requisite to consult with the friends on both sides, who
shall be invited to the wedding, and who not. For it seldom happens,
but there is one broil or another about it; and that's no sooner don,
but there arises a new quarrel, to consider, how richly or frugally
the Guests shall be treated; for they would come off with credit and
little charge. To this is required the advice of a steward, because it
is their daily work. And he for favour of the Cook, Pasterer, and
Poulterer (reaping oftentimes his own benefit by it) orders all things
so liberally as he can make the people beleeve that is requisite. And
the Bride thinks, the nobler it is, the better I like it, for I am but
once the Bride. But this matter being dispatcht, there's another
consideration to be taken in hand, to know how the Bride & Bridegrooms
friends shall be plac'd at the Table, the ordering whereof, many times
causes such great disputes, that if they had known it before, they
would rather have kept no Wedding. In somuch that the Bridegroom and
the Bride, with sighing, say to one another, alas, what a thick shell
this marriage nut hath, before one can come to the kernel of it. But
Bridegroom to drive these damps out of your brain, there's no better
remedy then to go along with your Bridemen to tast the Wedding wine;
for there must be sure care taken that it may be of a delicate tast
and relish; Because that which was laid in before, was not so
delicious as is required for such a noble Wedding, where there will be
so many curious tasters. Ha! riva! Look to't Bride and Bridemaids, you
may now expect a jolly Bridegroom and Bridemen, for the Wine-Merchant
is such a noble blade, that none of them all shall escape him, before
they have drunk as many Glasses, as there are hoops upon the Wine-cask
that they tasted of.
Adieu all care! the Wedding is at hand, who thinks now of any thing
but superfluity of mirth? Away with all these whining, pining Carpers,
who are constantly talking & prating that the married estate brings
nothing but care and sorrow with it; here, to the contrary, they may
see how all minds & intentions are knit together, to consume and pass
away these daies with the most superabounding pleasures. Away with
sorrow. 'Tis not invited to be among the Wedding guests. Noct there is
nothing else to be thought on, but to help these Lovers that they may
enjoy the kernel of the first pleasure of their marriage.
But really, there's poor Mally the maid, is almost dead with longing,
and thinks her very heart in pieces, scarcely knowing when the first
Wedding-night will be ended, that she might carry up some water to the
young couple, and have a feeling of those liberal gifts that she shall
receive from the Bridegroom and the Bride, for all her attendance,
running and turmoiling. And her thoughts are, that no body has
deserved it better, for by night and by day she waited upon them, and
was very diligent and faithfull in conveyance of their Love-Letters;
but all upon fair promises, having carried her self in the time of
their wooing almost like a Bawd to the Bride; for which she never had
in all the time but three gratuities from the Bridegroom,
_And now the Bride is in the bed,
The former promises are dead._
Make your self merry amongst the rest of the Wedding guests, so far as
is becoming you: who knows, but that some brave Gentlemans man,
Coachman, or neighbors servant, may fall in love with you; for many
times out of one Wedding comes another, and then you might come to be
a woman of good fashion. Udsbud Mally! then you would know, as well as
your Mistress, what delights are to be had in the first Wedding night.
Then you would also know how to discourse of the first Pleasure of
marriage, and with the Bride expect the second.
* * * * *
THE SECOND PLEASURE.