strong Opinion that this Disposition comes from God, because it hath continu'd with me so many Years, and grows every Day stronger and stronger.
_Eu._ Your good Parents being so violently set against it, makes me suspect it. If what you attempt were good, God would have inclined your Parents to favour the Motion. But you have contracted this Affection from the gay Things you saw when you were a Child; the Tittle-tattles of the Nuns, and the Hankering you have after your old Companions, the external Pomp and specious Ceremonies, and the Importunities of the senseless Monks which hunt you to make a Proselyte of you, that they may tipple more largely. They know your Father to be liberal and bountiful, and they'll either give him an Invitation to them, because they know he'll bring Wine enough with him to serve for ten lusty Soaks, or else they'll come to him. Therefore let me advise you to do nothing without your Parents Consent, whom God has appointed your Guardians. God would have inspired their Minds too, if the Thing you were attempting were a religious Matter.
_Ca._ In this Matter it is Piety to contemn Father and Mother.
_Eu._ It is, I grant, sometimes a Piece of Piety to contemn Father or Mother for the Sake of Christ; but for all that, he would not act piously, that being a Christian, and had a Pagan to his Father, who had nothing but his Son's Charity to support him, should forsake him, and leave him to starve. If you had not to this Day profess'd Christ by Baptism, and your Parents should forbid you to be baptis'd, you would indeed then do piously to prefer Christ before your impious Parents; or if your Parents should offer to force you to do some impious, scandalous Thing, their Authority in that Case were to be contemned. But what is this to the Case of a Nunnery? You have Christ at home. You have the Dictates of Nature, the Approbation of Heaven, the Exhortation of St.
_Paul_, and the Obligation of human Laws, for your Obedience to Parents; and will you now withdraw yourself from under the Authority of good and natural Parents, to give yourself up a Slave to a fictitious Father, rather than to your real Father, and a strange Mother instead of your true Mother, and to severe Masters and Mistresses rather than Parents?
For you are so under your Parents Direction, that they would have you be at Liberty wholly. And therefore Sons and Daughters are call'd [_liberi_] Children, because they are free from the Condition of Servants. You are now of a free Woman about to make yourself voluntarily a Slave. The Clemency of the Christian Religion has in a great Measure cast out of the World the old Bondage, saving only some obscure Foot-Steps in some few Places. But there is now a Days found out under pretence of Religion a new Sort of Servitude, as they now live indeed in many Monasteries. You must do nothing there but by a Rule, and then all that you lose they get. If you offer to step but one Step out of the Door, you're lugg'd back again just like a Criminal that had poison'd her Father. And to make the Slavery yet the more evident, they change the Habit your Parents gave you, and after the Manner of those Slaves in old Time, bought and sold in the Market, they change the very Name that was given you in Baptism, and _Peter_ or _John_ are call'd _Francis_, or _Dominic_, or _Thomas_. _Peter_ first gives his Name up to Christ, and being to be enter'd into _Dominic's_ Order, he's called _Thomas_. If a military Servant casts off the Garment his Master gave him, is he not look'd upon to have renounc'd his Master? And do we applaud him that takes upon him a Habit that Christ the Master of us all never gave him?
He is punish'd more severely for the changing it again, than if he had a hundred Times thrown away the Livery of his Lord and Emperor, which is the Innocency of his Mind.
_Ca._ But they say, it is a meritorious Work to enter into this voluntary Confinement.
_Eu._ That is a pharisaical Doctrine. St. _Paul_ teacheth us otherwise, _and will not have him that is called free, make himself a Servant, but rather endeavour that he may be more free:_ And this makes the Servitude the worse, that you must serve many Masters, and those most commonly Fools too, and Debauchees; and besides that, they are uncertain, being every now and then new. But answer me this one Thing, I beseech you, do any Laws discharge you from your Duty to your Parents?
_Ca._ No.
_Eu._ Can you buy or sell an Estate against your Parents Consent?
_Ca._ No, I can't.
_Eu._ What Right have you then to give away yourself to I know not whom, against your Parents Consent? Are you not their Child, the dearest and most appropriate Part of their Possession?
_Ca._ In the Business of Religion, the Laws of Nature give Place.
_Eu._ The great Point of our Religion lies in our Baptism: But the Matter in Question here is, only the changing of a Habit, or of such a Course of Life, which in itself is neither Good nor Evil. And now consider but this one Thing, how many valuable Privileges you lose, together with your Liberty. Now, if you have a Mind to read, pray, or sing, you may go into your own Chamber, as much and as often as you please. When you have enough of Retirement, you may go to Church, hear Anthems, Prayers and Sermons; and if you see any Matron or Virgin remarkable for Piety, in whose Company you may get good; if you see any Man that is endow'd with singular Probity, from whom you may learn what will make for your bettering, you may have their Conversation; and you may chuse that Preacher that preaches Christ most purely. When once you come into a Cloyster, all these Things, that are the greatest Assistances in the Promotion of true Piety, you lose at once.
_Ca._ But in the mean Time I shall not be a Nun.
_Eu._ What signifies the Name? Consider the Thing itself. They make their boast of Obedience, and won't you be praise-worthy, in being obedient to your Parents, your Bishop and your Pastor, whom God has commanded you to obey? Do you profess Poverty? And may not you too, when all is in your Parents Hands? Although the Virgins of former Times were in an especial Manner commended by holy Men, for their Liberality towards the Poor; but they could never have given any Thing, if they had possessed nothing. Nor will your Charity be ever the less for living with your Parents. And what is there more in a Convent than these? A Vail, a Linnen-Shift turned into a Stole, and certain Ceremonies, which of themselves signify nothing to the Advancement of Piety, and make no Body more acceptable in the Eyes of Christ, who only regards the Purity of the Mind.
_Ca._ This is News to me.
_Eu._ But it is true News. When you, not being discharg'd from the Government of your Parents, can't dispose of, or sell so much as a Rag, or an Inch of Ground, what Right can you pretend to for disposing of yourself into the Service of a Stranger?
_Ca._ They say, that the Authority of a Parent does not hinder a Child from entering into a religious Life.
_Eu._ Did you not make Profession of Religion in your Baptism?
_Ca._ Yes.
_Eu._ And are not they religious Persons that conform to the Precepts of Christ?
_Ca._ They are so.
_Eu._ What new Religion is that then, which makes that void, that the Law of Nature had establish'd? What the old Law hath taught, and the Gospel approv'd, and the Apostles confirm'd? That is an Ordinance that never came from Heaven, but was hatch'd by a Company of Monks in their Cells. And after this Manner, some of them undertake to justify a Marriage between a Boy and a Girl, though without the Privity, and against the Consent of their Parents; if the Contract be (as they phrase it) in Words of the present Tense. And yet that Position is neither according to the Dictate of Nature, the Law of _Moses_, or the Doctrine of _Christ_ or his Apostles.
_Ca._ Do you think then, that I may not espouse myself to Christ without my Parents Consent?
_Eu._ I say, you have espous'd him already, and so we have all. Where is the Woman that marries the same Man twice? The Question is here only about Places, Garments and Ceremonies. I don't think Duty to Parents is to be abandon'd for the Sake of these Things; and you ought to look to it, that instead of espousing Christ, you don't espouse some Body else.
_Ca._ But I am told, that in this Case it is a Piece of the highest Sanctity, even to contemn ones Parents.
_Eu._ Pray, require these Doctors to shew you a Text for it, out of the holy Scriptures, that teach this Doctrine; but if they can't do this, bid them drink off a good large Bumper of _Burgundian_ Wine: That they can do bravely. It is indeed a Piece of Piety to fly from wicked Parents to Christ: But to fly from pious Parents to a Monkery, that is (as it too often proves) to fly from ought to stark naught. What Pity is that I pray? Although in old Time, he that was converted from Paganism to Christianity, paid yet as great a Reverence to his idolatrous Parents, as it was possible to do without prejudice to Religion itself.
_Ca._ Are you then against the main Institution of a monastick Life?
_Eu._ No, by no Means: But as I will not persuade any Body against it, that is already engag'd in this Sort of Life, to endeavour to get out of it, so I would most undoubtedly caution all young Women; especially those of generous Tempers, not to precipitate themselves unadvisedly into that State from whence there is no getting out afterwards: And the rather, because their Chastity is more in Danger in a Cloyster than out of it; and beside that, you may do whatsoever is done there as well at Home.
_Ca._ You have indeed urg'd many, and very considerable Arguments; yet this Affection of mine can't be removed.
_Eu._ If I can't dissuade you from it, as I wish heartily I could, however, remember this one Thing, that _Eubulus_ told you before Hand.
In the mean Time, out of the Love I bear you, I wish your Inclinations may succeed better than my Counsel.
The ARGUMENT.
_A Virgin repenting before she had profess'd herself, goes Home again to her Parents. The crafty Tricks of the Monks are detected, who terrify and frighten unexperienced Minds into their Cloysters, by feign'd Apparitions and Visions_.
EUBULUS, CATHERINE.
_Eu._ I could always wish to have such a Porter.
_Ca._ And I to have such Visitors.
_Eu._ But fare you well, _Kitty_.
_Ca._ What's the Matter, do you take Leave before you salute?
_Eu._ I did not come hither to see you cry: What's the Matter, that as soon as ever you see me, the Tears stand in your Eyes?
_Ca._ Why in such Haste? Stay a little; pray stay. I'll put on my better Looks, and we'll be merry together.
_Eu._ What Sort of Cattle have we got here?
_Ca._ 'Tis the Patriarch of the College: Don't go away, they have had their Dose of Fuddle: Stay but a little While, and as soon as he is gone, we will discourse as we use to do.
_Eu._ Well, I'll be so good natur'd as to hearken to you, though you would not to me. Now we are alone, you must tell me the whole Story, I would fain have it from your Mouth.
_Ca._ Now I have found by Experience, of all my Friends, which I took to be very wise Men too, that no Body gave more wise and grave Advice than you, that are the youngest of 'em all.
_Eu._ Tell me, how did you get your Parents Consent at last?
_Ca._ First, by the restless Sollicitations of the Monks and Nuns, and then by my own Importunities and Tears, my Mother was at length brought over; but my Father stood out stiffly still: But at last being ply'd by several Engines, he was prevail'd upon to yield; but yet, rather like one that was forced, than that consented. The Matter was concluded in their Cups, and they preach'd Damnation to him, if he refus'd to let Christ have his Spouse.
_Eu._ O the Villany of Fools! But what then?
_Ca._ I was kept close at Home for three Days; but in the mean Time there were always with me some Women of the College that they call _Convertites_, mightily encouraging me to persist in my holy Resolution, and watching me narrowly, lest any of my Friends or Kindred should come at me, and make me alter my Mind. In the mean While, my Habit was making ready, and the Provision for the Feast.
_Eu._ How did you find yourself? Did not your Mind misgive you yet?
_Ca._ No, not at all; and yet I was so horridly frighted, that I had rather die ten Times over, than suffer the same again.
_Eu._ What was that, pray?
_Ca._ It is not to be uttered.
_Eu._ Come, tell me freely, you know I'm your Friend.
_Ca._ Will you keep Counsel?
_Eu._ I should do that without promising, and I hope you know me better than to doubt of it.
_Ca._ I had a most dreadful Apparition.
_Eu._ Perhaps it was your evil Genius that push'd you on to this.
_Ca._ I am fully persuaded it was an evil Spirit.
_Eu._ Tell me what Shape it was in. Was it such as we use to paint with a crooked Beak, long Horns, Harpies Claws, and swinging Tail?
_Ca._ You make a Game of it, but I had rather sink into the Earth, than see such another.
_Eu._ And were your Women Sollicitresses with you then?
_Ca._ No, nor I would not so much as open my Lips of it to them, though they sifted me most particularly about it, when they found me almost dead with the Surprise.
_Eu._ Shall I tell you what it was?
_Ca._ Do if you can.
_Eu._ Those Women had certainly bewitch'd you, or conjur'd your Brain out of your Head rather. But did you persist in your Resolution still, for all this?
_Ca._ Yes, for they told me, that many were thus troubled upon their first consecrating themselves to Christ; but if they got the better of the Devil that Bout, he'd let them alone for ever after.
_Eu._ Well, what Pomp were you carried out with?
_Ca._ They put on all my Finery, let down my Hair, and dress'd me just as if it had been for my Wedding.
_Eu._ To a fat Monk, perhaps; Hem! a Mischief take this Cough.
_Ca._ I was carried from my Father's House to the College by broad Day-Light, and a World of People staring at me.
_Eu._ O these Scaramouches, how they know to wheedle the poor People!
How many Days did you continue in that holy College of Virgins, forsooth?
_Ca._ Till Part of the twelfth Day.
_Eu._ But what was it that changed your Mind, that had been so resolutely bent upon it?
_Ca._ I must not tell you what it was, but it was something very considerable. When I had been there six Days, I sent for my Mother; I begged of her, and besought her, as she lov'd my Life, to get me out of the College again. She would not hear on't, but bad me hold to my Resolution. Upon that I sent for my Father, but he chid me too, telling me, that I had made him master his Affections, and that now he'd make me master mine, and not disgrace him, by starting from my Purpose. At last, when I saw that I could do no good with them this Way, I told my Father and Mother both, that to please them, I would submit to die, and that would certainly be my Fate, if they did not take me out, and that very quickly too; and upon this, they took me Home.
_Eu._ It was very well that you recanted before you had profess'd yourself for good and all: But still, I don't hear what it was changed your Mind so suddenly.
_Ca._ I never told any Mortal yet, nor shall.
_Eu._ What if I should guess?
_Ca._ I'm sure you can't guess it; and if you do, I won't tell you.
_Eu._ Well, for all that, I guess what it was. But in the mean Time, you have been at a great Charge.
_Ca._ Above 400 Crowns.
_Eu._ O these guttling Nuptials! Well, but I am glad though the Money is gone, that you're safe: For the Time to come, hearken to good Counsel when it is given you.
_Ca._ So I will. _The burnt Child dreads the Fire._ _The UNEASY WIFE._ The ARGUMENT.
_This Colloquy, entitled_, The uneasy Wife: _Or_, Uxor [Greek: Mempsigamos], _treats of many Things that relate to the mutual Nourishment of conjugal Affection.
Concerning the concealing a Husband's Faults; of not interrupting conjugal Benevolence; of making up Differences; of mending a Husband's Manners; of a Woman's Condescension to her Husband. What is the Beauty of a Woman; she disgraces herself, that disgraces her Husband; that the Wife ought to submit to the Husband; that the Husband ought not to be out of Humour when the Wife is; and on the Contrary; that they ought to study mutual Concord, since there is no Room for Advice; that they ought to conceal one another's Faults, and not expose one another; that it is in the Power of the Wife to mend her Husband; that she ought to carry herself engagingly, learn his Humour, what provokes him or appeases him; that all Things be in Order at Home; that he have what he likes best to eat; that if the Husband be vext, the Wife don't laugh; if he be angry, that she should speak pleasantly to him, or hold her Tongue; that what she blames him for, should be betwixt themselves; the Method of admonishing; that she ought to make her Complaint to no Body but her Husband's Parents; or to some peculiar Friends that have an Influence upon him. The Example of a prudent Man, excellently managing a young morose Wife, by making his Complaint to her Father. Another of a prudent Wife, that by her good Carriage reformed a Husband that frequented leud Company, Another of a Man that had beaten his Wife in his angry Fit; that Husbands are to be overcome, brought into Temper by Mildness, Sweetness, and Kindness; that there should be no Contention in the Chamber or in the Bed; but that Care should be taken, that nothing but Pleasantness and Engagingness be there.
The Girdle of_ Venus _is Agreeableness of Manners.
Children make a mutual Amity. That a Woman separated from her Husband, is nothing: Let her always be mindful of the Respect that is due to a Husband._ EULALIA, XANTIPPE.
_EU._ Most welcome _Xantippe_, a good Morning to you.
_Xa._ I wish you the same, my dear _Eulalia_. Methinks you look prettier than you use to do.
_Eu._ What, do you begin to banter me already?
_Xa._ No, upon my Word, for you seem so to me.
_Eu._ Perhaps then my new Cloaths may set me off to Advantage.
_Xa._ You guess right, it is one of the prettiest Suits I ever beheld in all my Life. It is _English_ Cloth, I suppose.
_Eu._ It is indeed of _English_ Wool, but it is a _Venetian_ Dye.
_Xa._ It is as soft as Silk, and 'tis a charming Purple. Who gave you this fine Present?
_Eu._ My Husband. From whom should a virtuous Wife receive Presents but from him?
_Xa._ Well, you are a happy Woman, that you are, to have such a good Husband. For my Part, I wish I had been married to a Mushroom when I was married to my _Nick_.
_Eu._ Why so, pray? What! is it come to an open Rupture between you already?
_Xa._ There is no Possibility of agreeing with such a one as I have got.
You see what a ragged Condition I am in; so he lets me go like a Dowdy!
May I never stir, if I an't asham'd to go out of Doors any whither, when I see how fine other Women are, whose Husbands are nothing nigh so rich as mine is.
_Eu._ The Ornament of a Matron does not consist in fine Cloaths or other Deckings of the Body, as the Apostle _Peter_ teaches, for I heard that lately in a Sermon; but in chaste and modest Behaviour, and the Ornaments of the Mind. Whores are trick'd up to take the Eyes of many but we are well enough drest, if we do but please our own Husbands.
_Xa._ But mean while this worthy Tool of mine, that is so sparing toward his Wife, lavishly squanders away the Portion I brought along with me, which by the Way was not a mean one.
_Eu._ In what?
_Xa._ Why, as the Maggot bites, sometimes at the Tavern, sometimes upon his Whores, sometimes a gaming.
_Eu._ O fie, you should never say so of your Husband.
_Xa._ But I'm sure 'tis too true; and then when he comes Home, after I have been waiting for him till I don't know what Time at Night, as drunk as _David's_ Sow, he does nothing but lye snoring all Night long by my Side, and sometimes bespues the Bed too, to say nothing more.
_Eu._ Hold your Tongue: You disgrace yourself in disgracing your Husband.
_Xa._ Let me dye, if I had not rather lye with a Swine than such a Husband as I have got.
_Eu._ Don't you scold at him then?
_Xa._ Yes, indeed, I use him as he deserves. He finds I have got a Tongue in my Head.
_Eu._ Well, and what does he say to you again?
_Xa._ At first he used to hector at me lustily, thinking to fright me with his big Words.
_Eu._ Well, and did your Words never come to downright Blows?
_Xa._ Once, and but once, and then the Quarrel rose to that Height on both Sides, that we were within an Ace of going to Fisty-Cuffs.
_Eu._ How, Woman! say you so?
_Xa._ He held up his Stick at me, swearing and cursing like a Foot-Soldier, and threatening me dreadfully.
_Eu._ Were not you afraid then?
_Xa._ Nay, I snatch'd up a three legg'd Stool, and if he had but touch'd me with his Finger, he should have known he had to do with a Woman of Spirit.
_Eu._ Ah! my _Xantippe_, that was not becoming.
_Xa._ What becoming? If he does not use me like a Wife, I won't use him like a Husband.
_Eu._ But St. _Paul_ teaches, that Wives ought to be subject to their own Husbands with all Reverence. And St. _Peter_ proposes the Example of _Sarah_ to us, who call'd her Husband _Abraham_ Lord.
_Xa._ I have heard those Things, but the same _Paul_ likewise teaches that _Men should love their Wives as Christ lov'd his Spouse the Church_. Let him remember his Duty and I'll remember mine.
_Eu._ But nevertheless when Things are come to that Pass that one must submit to the other, it is but reasonable that the Wife submit to her Husband.
_Xa._ Yes indeed, if he deserves the Name of a Husband who uses me like a Kitchen Wench.
_Eu._ But tell me, _Xantippe_, did he leave off threatening after this?
_Xa._ He did leave off, and it was his Wisdom so to do, or else he would have been thresh'd.
_Eu._ But did not you leave off Scolding at him?
_Xa._ No, nor never will.
_Eu._ But what does he do in the mean Time?
_Xa._ What! Why sometimes he pretends himself to be fast asleep, and sometimes does nothing in the World but laugh at me; sometimes he catches up his Fiddle that has but three Strings, scraping upon it with all his Might, and drowns the Noise of my Bawling.
_Eu._ And does not that vex you to the Heart?
_Xa._ Ay, so that it is impossible to be express'd, so that sometimes I can scarce keep my Hands off of him.
_Eu._ Well, my _Xantippe_, give me Leave to talk a little freely with you.
_Xa._ I do give you Leave.
_Eu._ Nay, you shall use the same Freedom with me. Our Intimacy, which has been in a Manner from our very Cradles, requires this.
_Xa._ You say true, nor was there any of my Playfellows that I more dearly lov'd than you.
_Eu._ Let your Husband be as bad as bad can be, think upon this, That there is no changing. Heretofore, indeed, Divorce was a Remedy for irreconcilable Disagreements, but now this is entirely taken away: He must be your Husband and you his Wife to the very last Day of Life.
_Xa._ The Gods did very wrong that depriv'd us of this Privilege.
_Eu._ Have a Care what you say. It was the Will of Christ.
_Xa._ I can scarce believe it.
_Eu._ It is as I tell you. Now you have nothing left to do but to study to suit your Tempers and Dispositions one to another, and agree together.
_Xa._ Do you think, I can be able to new-make him?
_Eu._ It does not a little depend upon the Wives, what Men Husbands shall be.
_Xa._ Do you and your Husband agree very well together?
_Eu._ All is quiet with us now.
_Xa._ Well then, you had some Difference at first.
_Eu._ Never any Thing of a Storm; but yet, as it is common with human Kind, sometimes a few small Clouds would rise, which might have produc'd a Storm, if it had not been prevented by Condescention. Every one has his Humours, and every one their Fancies, and if we would honestly speak the Truth, every one his Faults, more or less, which if in any State, certainly in Matrimony we ought to connive at, and not to hate.
_Xa._ You speak very right.
_Eu._ It frequently happens that that mutual Love that ought to be between the Husband and Wife is cooled before they come to be throughly acquainted one with another. This is the first Thing that ought to be provided against; for when a Spirit of Dissention is once sprung up, it is a difficult Matter to bring them to a Reconciliation, especially if it ever proceeded so far as to come to reproachful Reflections. Those Things that are joined together with Glue, are easily pull'd one from another if they be handled roughly as soon as done, but when once they have been fast united together, and the Glue is dry, there is nothing more firm. For this Reason, all the Care possible is to be taken that good Will between Man and Wife be cultivated and confirmed even in the Infancy of Matrimony. This is principally effected by Obsequiousness, and an Agreeableness of Tempers. For that Love that is founded only upon Beauty, is for the most part but short-liv'd.
_Xa._ But prithee tell me by what Arts you brought your Husband to your Humour.
_Eu._ I'll tell you for this End, that you may copy after me.
_Xa._ Well, I will, if I can.
_Eu._ It will be very easy to do, if you will; nor is it too late yet; for he is in the Flower of his Youth, and you are but a Girl; and as I take it, have not been married this Twelve Months yet.
_Xa._ You are very right.
_Eu._ Then I'll tell you; but upon Condition, that you'll not speak of it.
_Xa._ Well, I will not.
_Eu._ It was my first Care that I might please my Husband in every Respect, that nothing might give him Offence. I diligently observed his Inclinations and Temper, and also observed what were his easiest Moments, what Things pleas'd him, and what vex'd him, as they use to do who tame _Elephants_ and _Lions_, or such Sort of Creatures, that can't be master'd by downright Strength.
_Xa._ And such an Animal have I at Home.
_Eu._ Those that go near Elephants, wear no Garment that is white; nor those who manage Bulls, red; because it is found by Experience, that these Creatures are made fierce by these Colours, just as Tygers are made so raging mad by the Sound of a Drum, that they will tear their own selves; and Jockies have particular Sounds, and Whistles, and Stroakings, and other Methods to sooth Horses that are mettlesome: How much more does it become us to use these Acts towards our Husbands, with whom, whether we will or no, we must live all our Lives at Bed and Board?
_Xa._ Well, go on with what you have begun.
_Eu._ Having found out his Humour, I accommodated myself to him, taking Care that nothing should offend him.
_Xa._ How could you do that?
_Eu._ I was very diligent in the Care of my Family, which is the peculiar Province of Women, that nothing was neglected, and that every Thing should be suitable to his Temper, altho' it were in the most minute Things.
_Xa._ What Things?
_Eu._ Suppose my Husband peculiarly fancied such a Dish of Meat, or liked it dress'd after such a Manner; or if he lik'd his Bed made after such or such a Manner.
_Xa._ But how could you humour one who was never at Home, or was drunk?
_Eu._ Have Patience, I was coming to that Point. If at any Time my Husband seem'd to be melancholy, and did not much care for talking, I did not laugh, and put on a gay Humour, as some Women are us'd to do; but I put on a grave demure Countenance, as well as he. For as a Looking-glass, if it be a true one, represents the Face of the Person that looks into it, so a Wife ought to frame herself to the Temper of her Husband, not to be chearful when he is melancholy, nor be merry when he is in a Passion. And if at any Time he was in a Passion, I either endeavoured to sooth him with fair Words, or held my Tongue till his Passion was over; and having had Time to cool, Opportunity offered, either of clearing myself, or of admonishing him. I took the same Method, if at any Time he came Home fuddled, and at such a Time never gave him any Thing but tender Language, that by kind Expressions, I might get him to go to Bed.
_Xa._ That is indeed a very unhappy Portion for Wives, if they must only humour their Husbands, when they are in a Passion, and doing every Thing that they have a Mind to do.
_Eu._ As tho' this Duty were not reciprocal, and that our Husbands are not forc'd to bear with many of our Humours: However, there is a Time, when a Wife may take the Freedom in a Matter of some Importance to advise her Husband; but as for small Faults, it is better to wink at them.
_Xa._ But what Time is that?
_Eu._ When his Mind is serene; when he's neither in a Passion, nor in the Hippo, nor in Liquor; then being in private, you may kindly advise him, but rather intreat him, that he would act more prudently in this or that Matter, relating either to his Estate, Reputation, or Health. And this very Advice is to be season'd with witty Jests and Pleasantries.
Sometimes by Way of Preface, I make a Bargain with him before-Hand, that he shall not be angry with me, if being a foolish Woman, I take upon me to advise him in any Thing, that might seem to concern his Honour, Health, or Preservation. When I have said what I had a Mind to say, I break off that Discourse, and turn it into some other more entertaining Subject. For, my _Xantippe_, this is the Fault of us Women, that when once we have begun, we don't know when to make an End.
_Xa._ Why, so they say, indeed.
_Eu._ This chiefly I observed as a Rule, never to chide my Husband before Company, nor to carry any Complaints out of Doors. What passes between two People, is more easily made up, than when once it has taken Air. Now if any Thing of that kind shall happen, that cannot be born with, and that the Husband can't be cur'd by the Admonition of his Wife, it is more prudent for the Wife to carry her Complaints to her Husband's Parents and Kindred, than to her own; and so to soften her Complaint, that she mayn't seem to hate her Husband, but her Husband's Vices: And not to blab out all neither, that her Husband may tacitly own and love his Wife for her Civility.
_Xa._ A Woman must needs be a Philosopher, who can be able to do this.
_Eu._ By this Deportment we invite our Husbands to return the Civility.
_Xa._ But there are some Brutes in the World, whom you cannot amend, by the utmost good Carriage.
_Eu._ In Truth, I don't think it: But put the Case there are: First, consider this; a Husband must be born with, let him be as bad as he will. It is better therefore to bear with him as he is, or made a little better by our courteous Temper, than by our Outrageousness to make him grow every Day worse and worse. What if I should give Instances of Husbands, who by the like civil Treatment have altered their Spouses much for the better? How much more does it become us to use our Husbands after this Manner?
_Xa._ You will give an Instance then of a Man, that is as unlike my Husband, as black is from white.
_Eu._ I have the Honour to be acquainted with a Gentleman of a noble Family; Learned, and of singular Address and Dexterity; he married a young Lady, a Virgin of seventeen Years of Age, that had been educated all along in the Country in her Father's House, as Men of Quality love to reside in the Country, for the Sake of Hunting and Fowling: He had a Mind to have a raw unexperienc'd Maid, that he might the more easily form her Manners to his own Humour. He began to instruct her in Literature and Musick, and to use her by Degrees to repeat the Heads of Sermons, which she heard, and to accomplish her with other Things, which would afterwards be of Use to her. Now these Things being wholly new to the Girl, which had been brought up at Home, to do nothing but gossip and play, she soon grew weary of this Life, she absolutely refus'd to submit to what her Husband requir'd of her; and when her Husband press'd her about it, she would cry continually, sometimes she would throw herself flat on the Ground, and beat her Head against the Ground, as tho' she wish'd for Death. Her Husband finding there was no End of this, conceal'd his Resentment, gave his Wife an Invitation to go along with him into the Country to his Father-in-Law's House, for the Sake of a little Diversion. His Wife very readily obey'd him in this Matter. When they came there, the Husband left his Wife with her Mother and Sisters, and went a Hunting with his Father-in-Law; there having taken him aside privately, he tells his Father-in-law, that whereas he was in good Hopes to have had an agreeable Companion of his Daughter, he now had one that was always a crying, and fretting herself; nor could she be cured by any Admonitions, and intreats him to lend a helping Hand to cure his Daughter's Disorder. His Father-in-Law made him answer, that he had once put his Daughter into his Hand, and if she did not obey him, he might use his Authority, and cudgel her into a due Submission. The Son-in-Law replies, I know my own Power, but I had much rather she should be reform'd by your Art or Authority, than to come to these Extremities.
The Father-in-Law promis'd him to take some Care about the Matter: So a Day or two after, he takes a proper Time and Place, when he was alone with his Daughter, and looking austerely upon her, begins in telling her how homely she was, and how disagreeable as to her Disposition, and how often he had been in Fear that he should never be able to get her a Husband: But after much Pains, says he, I found you such a one, that the best Lady of the Land would have been glad of; and yet, you not being sensible what I have done for you, nor considering that you have such a Husband, who if he were not the best natur'd Man in the World, would scarce do you the Honour to take you for one of his Maid Servants, you are disobedient to him: To make short of my Story, the Father grew so hot in his Discourse, that he seem'd to be scarce able to keep his Hands off her; for he was so wonderful cunning a Man, that he would act any Part, as well as any Comedian. The young Lady, partly for Fear, and partly convinc'd by the Truth of what was told her, fell down at her Father's Feet, beseeching him to forget past Faults, and for the Time to come, she would be mindful of her Duty. Her Father freely forgave her, and also promised, that he would be to her a very indulgent Father, provided she perform'd what she promis'd.
_Xa._ Well, what happened after that?
_Eu._ The young Lady going away, after her Fathers Discourse was ended, went directly into her Chamber, and finding her Husband alone, she fell down on her Knees, and said, Husband, till this very Moment, I neither knew you nor myself; but from this Time forward, you shall find me another Sort of Person; only, I intreat you to forget what is past. The Husband receiv'd this Speech with a Kiss, and promised to do every Thing she could desire, if she did but continue in that Resolution.
_Xa._ What! Did she continue in it?
_Eu._ Even to her dying Day; nor was any Thing so mean, but she readily and chearfully went about it, if her Husband would have it so. So great a Love grew, and was confirm'd between them. Some Years after, the young Lady would often congratulate herself, that she had happen'd to marry such a Husband, which had it not happen'd, said she, I had been the most