THE BRIDE

By Samuel Rowlands

With an Introductory Note by Alfred Claghorn Potter

Introductory Note

When the complete works of Samuel Rowlands were issued by the Hunterian Club in 1872-1880, in an edition of two hundred and ten copies, the Editor was obliged to omit from the collection the poem entitled "The Bride." No copy of this tract was supposed to be extant. Twenty years later, in the article on Rowlands in the Dictionary of National Biography, Mr. Sidney Lee also names this poem as one of the author's lost works. All that was known of it was the entry in the Stationers' Register: [Footnote: Arber's Transcript, vol. iii. p. 609.]

"22 [degrees] Maij 1617 "Master Pauier. Entred for his Copie vnder the handes of master TAUERNOR and both the wardens, A Poeme intituled The Bride, written by SAMUELL ROWLANDE vj'd."

While all of Rowlands's works are classed by bibliographers as "rare," this one seemed to have disappeared entirely. No copy was to be found in any of the large libraries or private collections, nor was there any record of its sale.

Last spring a copy was discovered in the catalogue of a bookseller in a small German town, and was secured for the Harvard College Library, being purchased from the Child Memorial Fund. The copy is perfect, except that the inner corner at the top of the second and third leaves has been torn off, with the loss of parts of two words, which have been supplied in manuscript. From this copy the present reprint is made. As in the Hunterian Club edition of Rowlands's Works, to which this may be considered a supplement, the reprint is exact. The general makeup of the book as to style and size of type has been followed as closely as possible; and the text has been reproduced page for page and word for word. The misprints, which are unusually numerous, even for a book of this period, have been left uncorrected. The title-page and the two head-pieces have been reproduced by photography.

Of the poem itself, since it is now before the reader, little need be said. It cannot be claimed that it presents great poetical merit. Rowlands at his best was but an indifferent poet,—hardly more than a penny-a-liner. In his satirical pieces and epigrams, and in that bit of genuine comedy, "Tis Merrie vvhen Gossips meete," his work does have a real literary value, and is distinctly interesting as presenting a vivid picture of London life at the beginning of the seventeenth century. In "The Bride," it must be confessed, Rowlands falls below his own best work. Yet the poem is by no means wholly lacking in interest. If not his best work, "The Bride" is by no means his worst. Like most of his poems, it is written in an heroic stanza of six lines, and, as is not so common with him, is in dialogue form. The dialogue for the most part is well sustained and sprightly. The story of the birth of Merlin, it is true, seems to have been inserted mainly to fill out the required number of pages; but this digression has an interest of its own, in that the name here given to Merlin's mother,

"Lady Adhan," does not appear in the ordinary versions of the legend.

Of Rowlands's life almost nothing is known: that little is told in the Memoir by Mr. Gosse prefixed to the Hunterian Club edition, and by Mr. Lee in the Dictionary of National Biography, and need not be repeated here. All that is known with certainty is that Samuel Rowlands was a writer of numerous poems and pamphlets, published between the years 1598 and 1628. During this period there appeared almost every year a pamphlet bearing his name or the well known initials, "S. R." Twenty-eight separate works, of which many passed through several editions, are known to have been written by him. All of these early editions are rare; at least two of the works have been lost; several are extant only in the second or later editions; and of at least ten, only single copies are known to exist. Beside the edition of the Works already referred to, a number of Rowlands's tracts have been separately reprinted, in limited editions, by Sir Walter Scott, by S. W. Singer, by E. V. Utterson, by Halliwell-Phillipps, by J. P. Collier, and by

E. F. Rimbault in the publications of the Percy Society; to this series of reprints, "The Bride" is now added.

ALFRED CLAGHORN POTTER

Harvard College Library January, 1905

THE BRIDE BY S.R.

LONDON Printed by W. I. for T. P. 1617

THE BRIDE TO ALL MAYDES.

Not out of bubble blasted Pride, Doe I oppose myselfe a Bride, In scornefull manner with vpbraides: Against all modest virgin maides. As though I did dispise chast youth, This is not my intent of truth, I know they must liue single liues, Before th'are graced to be wiues. But such are only touch'd by me, That thinke themselues as good as wee: And say girles, Weomens fellows arr, Nay sawcely, Our betters farr: Yea will dispute, they are as good, Such Wenches vex me to the blood, And are not to be borne with all: Those I doe here in question call, Whome with the rules of reasons Arte: He teach more wit before we part, Sylence, of kindnes I beseech, Doe you finde eares, and weele finde speach.

THE BRIDE

Virgins, and fellow maydes (that were of late) Take kindly heere my wedding dayes a dew, I entertayne degree aboue your state: For Marriage life's beyond the single crew, Bring me to Church as custome sayes you shall, And then as wife, farewell my wenches all.

I goe before you vnto Honour now, And Hymen's Rites with ioy doe vndertake For life, I make the constant Nuptiall vow, Striue you to follow for your credits sake, For greater grace to Womankind is none Then Ioyne with husband, faithfull two in one.

God Honoured thus, our great Grand-mother Eue And gaue thereby the blessing of increase, For were not mariage we must all beleeue, The generations of the earth would cease. Mankind should be extinguish'd and decreas'd And all the world would but consist of beast.

Which caused me to finde my Mayden folly, And having found it, to reforme the same: Though some of you, thereat seeme melancholy That I for ever doe renounce your name. I not respect what censure you can giue, Since with a loving Man I meane to liue.

Whose kindest heart, to me is worth you all, Him to content, my soule in all things seekes, Say what you please, exclaiming chide and brall, Ile turne disgrace unto your blushing cheekes. I am your better now by Ring and Hatt, No more playn Rose, but Mistris you know what.

Marrie therefore and yeald increase a store, Else to what purpose weare you breed and borne: Those that receaue, and nothing giue therefore: Are fruitles creatures, of contempt and scorne, The excellence of all things doth consist, In giuing, this no reason can resist.

The glorious Sun, in giving forth his light, The Earth in plants, and hearbs & countles things The trees their fruit, The Empresse of the Night She bountious gives to rivers flouds and springs, And all that heaven, and all that earth containes, Their goodnes, in Increase of guifts explaynes.

But what doe you that neither give nor take, (As only made for hearing, and for seeing,) Although created helpers for Mans sake: Yet Man no whit the better for your being, That spend consume and Idle out your howers, Like many garden-paynted vselesse flowers.

Your liues are like those worthles barren trees, That never yeald (from yeare to yeare) but leaues: Greene-bowes vpon them only all men sees, But other goodnes there is none receaues, They flourish sommer and they make a showe, Yet to themselues they fruitles spring & growe.

Consider beast, and fish and foule, all creatures, How there is male and female of their kinde, And how in loue they doe inlarge their natures: Even by constrayn'd necessity inclyn'd: To paire and match, and couple tis decreed, To stocke and store the earth, with what they breed.

In that most powerfull word, still power doth lye, To whose obedience all must subiect bee, That sayd at first, Increase and multiply, Which still enduers from age to age we see: Dutie obligeth every one should frame, To his dread will, that did commaund the same.

It is not good for Man to be alone, Sayd that great God, who only knowes whats best: And therefore made a wife of Adams bone, While he reposing slept, with quyet rest, Which might presage, the great Creator ment, In their coniunction, sume of earths content,

Mistris Susan.

Good Mistris Bride, now we haue hard your speach In commendation of your Nuptiall choyse, Giue me a little favour I beseech, To speake vnto you with a Virgins voyce: Though diuers elder maydes in place there be, Yet ile begin, trusting they'le second me.

We are your fellows but to Church you say, As custome is that maydes, should bring the Bride And for no longer then the wedding day, You hould with vs, but turne to tother side: Boasting of Honour you affend vnto, And so goe forward making much adoe.

But this vnto you lustly I obiect, In the defence of each beloued mayde, Virginity, is life of chast respect, No worldly burden thereupon is layd: Our syngle life, all peace and quiet bringes, And we are free from carefull earthly things.

We may doe what we please, goe where we list, Without pray husband will you giue me leaue Our resolutions no man can resist, Our own's our owne, to giue or to receiue, We live not under this same word obay: Till Death depart us, at our dying day.

We may delight in fashion, weare the same, And chuse the stuffe of last devised sale: Take Taylors counsell in it free from blame, And cast it off assone as it growes stale: Goe out, come in, and at selfe pleasure liue, And kindly take, what kind youngmen do giue.

Wee have no checking churlish taunts to feare us, We have no grumbling at our purse expence: We seeke no misers favour to forbeare us, We use no houshold wranglings and offence: We have no cocke to over crowe our combe,

Cate.

Well said good Susan, now thou pay'st her home.

Bride.

A little favour pray, good Mistris Sue, You haue a time to heare aswell as speake: You challenge more by odds then is your due, And stand on Arguments are childish weake: Of freedome, liberty, and all content, But in the aire your breath is vainely spent.

It is your shame to bost you haue your will, And that you are in feare of no controwle, Your cases Sufan, are more bad and ill, Most dangerous to body and to soule: A woman to her will hath oft bin try'd, To run with errour, on the left hand side.

Pray did not danger then to Eue befall, When she tooke liberty without her heda, The Serpent ouercame her therwithall, And thorow will, she wilfull was misled: Yelding assoone as Sathan did intice, And of her husband neuer tooke aduise.

In wit to men we are inferiour far, For arts for learning, and Ingenious things, No rare Inuentions in our braynes there are, That publique profit to a kingdome brings: Tis they that must all callings execute, And wee of all their labours reape the fruite.

They are Diuines for soules true happines, They Maiestraites to right offensiue wronges, They souldiers for their martiall valiantnes, They artizans, for all to vse belonges: They husbandmen to worke the earths increase, And they the some of womens ioye and peace.

And shall not we performe obedience then? As wee are bound by law of God and nature, Yealding true harts affection unto men, Ordain'd to rule and gouerne euery creature: Why then of all on earth that liue and moue, We should degenerate and monsters proue.

Besse.

Monsters (forsoth) nere sleepe in maidens beds, But they are lodged with your married wiues, The knotty browes, and rugged butting heds, Concerne not vs, professing single liues, To learne your horne-booke we have no deuotion Keepe monsters to your selues, we scorne the motion.

Bride.

Besse, of such shapes, when your turne coms to marry A carefull mynd, in choyse of husband beare, For if your browes from former smothnes varry, Thinke on this speach, It commeth with a feare: Which I am past, perplexe me no feare can. Being sure I haue a constant honest man.

Iane.

Belieue you haue, and t'is enough they say, But you and I agree not in a mynde, I read in storyes men will run astray, Yet make their foolish wiues beleeue th'are kind: And therefore since they are so cunning knowne He keepe my selfe a maide and trust to none.

Had I one sutor swore himselfe loue-sicke, Another for his Mistris sake would die, A third thorow Cupids power growne lunaticke, A fourth that languishing past hope did lye: And so fift, sixt, and seauenth in loues passion, My Maiden-head for them should ner'e change fashion.

Aeneas told many a cogging tale, To Dido that renowned worthy Queene, And Iason with his flatterings did preuaile, Yet falser knaues in loue were neuer seene: And at this instant hower, as they were then, The world aboundeth with deceitfull men.

Doll.

Iane, thats too true, for to you all I sweare, How I was bobd by one tis shame to tell, A smoother fellow neuer wench did heare, And as I liue, I thought he lou'd me well: Heere you shall fee one of his cunning letters, Which still I keepe, & meane to shew his betters.

In Romane hand, on guilded paper writ, Pray Dorothy read you it to the rest, But whether his owne head inuented it, Or robd some printed Booke, I doe protest: I cannot tell, but his owne name is to it, Which proues he takes vpon him for to doe it.

* * * * *

The Loue Letter.

The truest heart, shall nought but falshood cherish, The mildest man, a cruell tyrant prooue, The water drops, the hardest flint shall perish, The hilles shall walke, and massie earth remooue: The brightest Sun shall turne to darkesome clowde, Ere I prooue false, where I my loue haue vowde.

Ere I prooue false, the world desolu'd shall be, To that same nothing that it was before, Ere I prooue false mine eyes shall cease to see, And breath of life shall breath in me no more: The strong built frame shall moue from his foundation Ere I remoue my soules determination.

Death shall forget to kill, and men to dye, Condemned soules shall laugh, and cease to mourne, The lowest hell shall rise and meete the skye, Time shall forget his course and backe returne: Contrary vnto kinde each thing shall proue, Ere I be false or once forget my loue.

Oh then deare heart regard my sad estate, My passions griefe and wofull lamentation, Oh pittie me ere pittie come too late, That hold thee deare past mans imagination: Preserue my life and say that thou wilt haue me, Or else I die the whole world cannot saue me.

Grace.

This is a Ballad I haue heard it sung.

Doll.

Well, be or be not, that's not to the matter, But who will trust a louers pen or tongue, That vse all protestations thus to flatter: For this base fellow that was so perplext, Sent this one monday, and was married next.

Sara.

Now out vpon him most dissembling creature, Ile warrant you that he can neuer thriue, He showes himselfe, euen of as bad a nature, As euer was in any man aliue: Alas poore foole that hath this fellow got, Shee hath a Iewell of him, hath she not?

Nell.

Yes surely hath she, (waying all things deepe,) A louer that will tast as sweete as gall, One that is better farre to hang then keepe, And I perswade me you doe thinke so all: Excepting onely partiall Mistris Bride, For she stands stoutly to the married side.

Bride.

So farre as reason, and as right requires, I will defend them both by word and deede, Yet haue I no apology for lyers, And ill conditions that false hearts doe breede: "All that are married be not faithfull kinde, Nor all vnmarried, are not chast in minde."

Are there not maids (vpon your coscience speake?) Knowne to your selues as well as you knowe me, Will vowe their loue to men, and falsly breake, Which in the number of your Virgins be, That will delude some halfe a score young men, And hauing gull'd them, take some other then.

I will not name her was in loue with ten, But in your eares i'le note her secret; harke, She had both Courtiers, Cockneys, Country-men, Yet in the ende a Saylor boards her Barke: And therefore put not men in all the blame, But speake the trueth, and so the diuell shame.

Grace.

I knowe the partie well that you doe meane, And thus much for her I dare boldly say, To diuers sutors though she seemed to leane, To trye her fortunes out the wisest way: Yet did she neuer plight her faith to any, But vnto him she had, among so many:

And ther's no doubt but diuers doe as she, Your selfe in conscience, haue had more then one, To whom in shewe you would familiar be, And comming to the point why you would none: Ciuilitie allowes a courteous cariage, To such as proffer loue by way of marriage.

An affable behauiour may be vsed, And kinde requitall answere kinde deseart, And yet no honest man thereby abused, With fained showes, as if he had the heart: When there is purpose of no such intent To gull him with his time and mony spent.

Mall.

Were I to giue maides counsell, they to take it, And that they would consent to doe as I, Who offered us his loue, we would forsake it, And like Dianes Nymphs would liue and die: For I protest your louers should haue none, But wiues and widdowes to put tricks vpon.

We would reuenge the crafty double dealing, Thousands of harmelesse virgins doe endure, By their deceitfull art of kinde-hart stealing, Keeping our loues vnto our selues secure: And credit to their vowes, should be no other, But in at one eare, and goe out at t'other.

Bride.

This you would doe, and y'are in that minde now, But I perswade me tis but rashly spoken, And therefore Mary make no foolish vow, For if you doe in conscience t'will be broken: Say you doe meane to keepe you free from man, But to be sure, still put in If you can.

Or else you may presume aboue your power, Twixt words and deedes, great difference often growes, You may be taken such a louing hower, Your heart may all be Cupids to dispose: Then vve shall haue you sicke, & pine and grieue, And nothing but a husband can relieue.

Aske but your elders that are gone before, And the'le say marry maide as we haue done, Twixt twelue and twenty open loue the doore, And say you vvere not borne to liue a Nonne: Vnperfect female, liuing odde you are, Neuer true euen, till you match and paire.

Iust-Nature at the first this course did take, Woman and man deuided were in twaine, But by vniting both did sweetely make, Deuisions blisse contenfull to remaine, Which well made lawe of Nature and of kinde, To matters reasonles doe nothing binde.

Nothing vnfit, nothing vniust to doe, But all in order orderly consisting, Then what seeme they that wil not ioine their two And so be one, without vnkinde resisting: Surely no other censure passe I can, But she's halfe woman liues without a man.

One, that depriues her selfe of whats her right, Borne vnto care, and ignorant of ease, A lustlesse liuing thing, without delight, One, whom vnpleasantnesse best seemes to please: Depriu'd of lifes sweete ioy, from kind remoued, Of worthlesse parts, vnworthy to be loued.

Who will in paine pertake with such a one, (Whom we may most vnhappy creature call,) Who will assist her, when her griefe makes mone, Or who vphold her if she chance to fall: The burthen one doth beare is light to two, For twisted cordes are hardest to vndoe.

The loue and ioy doth absolute remaine, That in posteritie is fixed fast, For thou in children art new borne againe, When yeeres haue brought thee to thy breath-spent last: Those oliue plants, shall from each other spring, Till Times full period endeth euery thing.

This being thus, what sencelesse girles you be, To iustifie a life not worth embracing, Opposing silly maiden wits gainst me, That will not yeelde an ynch to your out-facing: For were heere present all the maydes in towne, With marriage reasons I would put them down.

Prudence.

Kinke sisters all, now I haue heard the Bride, Will you haue my opinion, not to flatter, Sure I am turning to the wedding side, I heare such good sound reason for the matter: Let Grace, Doll, Besse, and Susan, Mary, Iane, Leade apes in hell, I am not of their vaine.