WIFE.

If to be born a Maid be such a grace,

So was I born, and graced by Nature too!
But seeking more perfection to embrace,

I did become a Wife! as others do.

WIDOW. And if the Maid and Wife such honour have,
I have been both, and hold a third degree!
Most Maids are Wards; and every Wife, a slave!
I have my 'livery sued'; and I am free!

MAID.

That is the fault! That you have Maidens been;
And were not constant to continue so!
The fall of Angels did increase their sin,
In that they did so pure a state forego.

But, Wife! and Widow! if your wits can make

Your state and persons of more worth than mine; Advantage to this place I will not take!

I will both place and privilege resign!

WIFE. Why, Marriage is an honourable state!
And Widowhood is a reverend degree!
But Maidenhead, that will admit no mate,
Like Majesty itself, must sacred be!

WIDOW. MAID.

WIFE. The Wife is mistress of her family
WIDOW.
MAID.

WIFE.
WIDOW.

MAID.

Much more the Widow! for she rules alone.
But mistress of mine own desires am I!
When you rule others' wills, and not your own!

Only the Wife enjoys the virtuous pleasure!

The Widow can abstain from pleasures known! But th' uncorrupted Maid preserves such measure, As, being by pleasures wooed, she cares for none!

WIFE.
WIDOW.

MAID.

WIFE. MAID.

The Wife is like a fair supported vine!

So was the Widow; but now stands alone:
For, being grown strong, she needs not to incline!
Maids, like the Earth, supported are of none !

The Wife is as a diamond richly set!

The Maid, unset, doth yet more rich appear!

WIDOW. The Widow, a jewel in the cabinet!

WIFE.
WIDOW.

Which, though not worn, is still esteemed as dear.

The Wife doth love; and is beloved again! The Widow is awaked out of that dream! MAID. The Maid's white mind had never such a stain! No Passion troubles her clear virtues' stream.

Yet if I would be loved; loved would I be
Like her, whose virtue in the bay is seen!
Love to Wife fades with satiety;

Where love, never enjoyed, is ever green!

WIDOW. Then what's a Virgin, but a fruitless bay!
MAID. And what's a Widow, but a rose-less briar!
And what are Wives, but woodbinds! which decay
The stately oaks, by which themselves aspire!

And what is Marriage, but a tedious yoke! WIDOW. And what Virginity, but sweet self-love! WIFE. And what's a Widow, but an axle broke;

Whose one part failing, neither part can move!

WIDOW. Wives are as birds, in golden cages kept!
WIFE. Yet in those cages cheerfully they sing!
WIDOW. Widows are birds, out of those cages leapt,
Whose joyful notes make all the forest ring.

MAID.

WIFE.
WIDOW.

MAID.

WIFE. WIDOW. MAID.

WIFE. WIDOW. MAID.

WIFE.

MAID.
WIFE.

WIDOW.

But Maids are birds, amidst the woods secure!
Which never hand could touch; nor net could take;
Nor whistle could deceive; nor bait allure:

But free, unto themselves do music make!

The Wife is as the turtle with her mate!
The Widow, as the widow dove alone;
Whose truth shines most in her forsaken state!
The Maid, a Phoenix; and is still but one!

The Wife's a soul, unto her body tied!
The Widow, a soul departed into bliss!
The Maid, an Angel, which was stellified;

And now t' as fair a House descended is!

Wives are fair Houses, kept and furnished well!
Widows, old Castles, void, but full of State!
But Maids are Temples, where the Gods do dwell!
To whom alone, themselves they dedicate.

But marriage is a Prison during life;

Where one way out, but many entries be!
The Nun is kept in cloister; not the Wife!
Wedlock alone doth make the Virgin free!

The Maid is ever fresh, like Morn in May!

The Wife, with all her beams is beautified,
Like to high Noon, the glory of the day!
The Widow, like a mild sweet Eventide!

WIFE. An Office well supplied is like the Wife!
WIDOW. The Widow, like a gainful Office void!
MAID. But Maids are like contentment in this life;

Which all the World have sought, but none enjoyed!

WIDOW.
WIFE.

Go, Wife! to Dunmow; and demand your Flitch!
Go, gentle Maid! go, lead thee apes in hell!
Go, Widow! make some younger brother rich;
And then take thought, and die: and all is well!

Alas, poor Maid! that hast no help, nor stay! WIDOW. Alas, poor Wife! that nothing dost possess ! MAID. Alas, poor Widow! Charity doth say,

'Pity the Widow and the fatherless!'

WIDOW. But happy Widows have the World at will!
WIFE.
MAID.

WIFE.

But happier Wives! whose joys are ever double! But happiest Maids! whose hearts are calm and still; Whom fear, nor hope, nor love, nor hate, doth trouble!

Every true Wife hath an indented heart,

Wherein the Covenants of Love are writ;
Whereof her husband keeps the Counterpart,
And reads his comforts and his joys in it.

WIDOW. But every Widow's heart is like a Book;
Where her joys past, imprinted do remain :
But when her judgement's eye therein doth look,
She doth not wish they were to come again!

MAID.

But the Maid's heart, a fair white Table is,
Spotless and pure; where no impressions be
But the immortal characters of bliss;

Which only GOD doth write, and Angels see.

WIFE.
But Wives have children. What a joy is this!
WIDOW. Widows have children too! But Maids have none !
MAID. No more have Angels! Yet they have more bliss
Than ever yet to mortal man was known!

WIFE. WIDOW. MAID.

WIFE. WIDOW. MAID.

The Wife is like a fair manurèd field!

The Widow once was such; but now doth rest!
The Maid, like Paradise, undressed, untilled,
Bears crops of native virtue in her breast!

Who would not die a Wife, as LUCRECE died!
Or live a Widow, as PENELOPE !
Or be a Maid, and so be stellified;

As all the Virtues, and the Graces, be!

WIFE. Wives are warm climates well inhabited:

But Maids are frozen zones, where none may dwell! MAID. But fairest people in the North are bred;

Where Africa breeds monsters black as hell!

WIFE. I have my husband's honour and his place!
WIDOW. My husband's fortunes all survive to me!
MAID. The moon doth borrow light! You borrow grace;
When Maids, by their own virtues gracèd be!

WIFE.

White is my colour! and no hue but this
It will receive. No tincture can it stain!
My white hath took one colour; but it is
An honourable purple dyed in grain.

WIDOW. But it hath been my fortune to renew

My colour twice, from that it was before:
But now my black will take no other hue;

And therefore now I mean to change no more! WIFE. Wives are fair apples, served in golden dishes! WIDOW. Widows, good wine! which time makes better much. MAID. But Maids are grapes, desired by many wishes! But that they grow so high as none can touch.