Love given o're, or, A Satyr against the pride, lust, and inconstancy &c. of woman 1682 Approx. 27 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 9 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2005-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A41691 Wing G1422 ESTC R28042 10334239 ocm 10334239 44897 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A41691) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 44897) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1385:5) Love given o're, or, A Satyr against the pride, lust, and inconstancy &c. of woman Brown, Thomas, 1663-1704. Gould, Robert, d. 1709? [2], 12 p. Printed for Andrew Green, London : 1682. Variously attributed to Robert Gould and Thomas Brown--NUC pre-1956 imprints. Reproduction of original in the Harvard University Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Women -- Poetry. 2003-03 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-04 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2005-03 Andrew Kuster Sampled and proofread 2005-03 Andrew Kuster Text and markup reviewed and edited 2005-04 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Love given o're : OR , A SATYR AGAINST THE Pride , Lust , and Inconstancy , &c. OF WOMAN . LONDON , Printed for Andrew Green. M. DC . LXXXII . TO THE READER . THE Pious Endeavours of the Gown , has not prov'd more ineffectual in the reclaiming the Errors of a vitious Age , than Satyr ( the better way , tho' less practis'd ) the amendment of Honesty , and good Manners amongst us . Nor is it a wonder , when we consider that Women , ( as if they had the ingredient of Fallen-Angel in their composition ) the more they are lash'd , are but the more hardned in Impenitence : and as Children in some violent Distemper , commonly spit out those cherishing Cordials , which if taken , might chace away the Malady : So they ( inspir'd as 't were with a natural aversness to Vertue ) despise that wholsom Counsel , which is Religiously design'd for their future good , and happiness . Judge then , if Satyr ever had more need of a sharper sting than now ; when he can look out of his Cell on no side , but sees so many Objects beyond the reach of indignation . Nor is it altogether unreasonable for me ( while others are lashing the Rebellious Times into Obedience ) to have one fling at Woman , the Original of Mischief . Altho' I 'me sensible I might as well expect to see Truth and Honesty uppermost in the World , as think to be free from the Bitterness of their Resentments : But I have no reason to be concern'd at that ; since I 'me certain my design 's as far from offending the good , ( if there are any amongst 'em that can be said to be so ) as those few that are good , would be offended at their Reception into the Eternal Inhabitations of Peace , to be Crown'd there with the Sacred Reward of their Labours . As for those that are ill , if it reflect on them it succeeds according to my wish ; for I have no other design but the amendment of Vice , which if I could but in the least accomplish , I should be well pleas'd ; and not without reason too ; for it must needs be a satisfaction to a young unskilful Archer , to hit the first Mark he ever aim'd at . Farewell . Love given o're : OR , A SATYR AGAINST WOMAN . AT length from Love's vile Slav'ry I am free , And have regain'd my ancient Liberty : I 've shook those Chains off which my bondage wrought , Am free as Ayr , and unconfin'd as thought ; For faithless Silvia I no more adore , Kneel at her feet , and pray in vain no more : No more my Verse shall her fled worth proclaim , And with soft praises celebrate her Name : Her Frowns do now no awful terrours bear ; Her Smiles no more can cure or cause despair . I 've banish'd her for ever from my Breast , Banish'd the proud Invader of my rest , Banish'd the Tyrant Author of my woes , That robb'd my Soul of all its sweet repose : Not all her treach'rous Arts , bewitching Wiles , Her Sighs , her Tears , nor her deluding Smiles , Shall my eternal Resolution move , Or make me talk , or think , or dream of Love : The whining Curse I 've banish'd from my Mind , And with it , all the thoughts of Womankind . Come then my Muse , and since th' occasion 's fair , 'Gainst the lewd Sex proclaim an endless War ; Which may renew as still my Verse is read , And live , when I am mingl'd with the dead : Discover all their various sorts of Vice , The Rules by which they ruine and intice , Their Folly , Falshood , Lux'ry , Lust , and Pride , With all their num'rous Race of Crimes beside : Unvail 'em quite to ev'ry vulgar Eye , And in that shameful posture let 'em lie , Till they ( as they deserve ) become to be Abhorr'd by all Mankind , as they 're abhorr'd by me . Woman ! by Heav'ns the very Name 's a Crime , Enough to blast , and to debauch my Rhime . Sure Heav'n it self ( intranc't ) like Adam lay , Or else some banish'd Fiend usurp't the sway When Eve was form'd ; and with her , usher'd in Plagues , Woes , and Death , and a new World of Sin. The fatal Rib was crooked and unev'n , From whence they have their Crab-like Nature giv'n ; Averse to all the Laws of Man , and Heav'n . O Lucifer , thy Regions had been thin , Were 't not for Womans propagating Sin : 'T is they alone that all true Vices know ; And send such Throngs down to thy Courts below : More Souls they 've made obedient to thy Raign , Than Heav'n , and Earth , and Seas beside , contain . True , the first Woman gave the first bold Blow , And bravely sail'd down to th' Abyss below ; But had the great Deed still been left undone , None of the daring Sex , no , hardly one , But in the very self-same path would go , Tho' sure 't wou'd lead 'em to eternal woe : Find me ye pow'rs , find one amongst 'em all , That does not envy Eve the glory of the Fall : Be cautious then , and guard your Empire well ; For shou'd they once get power to rebel , They 'd surely raise a Civil-War in Hell , Add to the pains you feel ; and make you know , W' are here above , as Curst as you below . How happy had we been , had Heav'n design'd Some other way to propagate our kind ? For whatso'ere those All-discerning Pow'rs Created sweet , Wife ! Nauseous Wife ! turn'd sow'r ; Debauch'd th' innocent , Ambrosial mea And ( like Eves Apple ) made it Death to eat : But curst be the vile Name , and curst be they , Who are so tamely Dull as to obey . The Slaves they may command ; Is there a Dog , Who , when he may have freedom , wears a Clog ? But Man , base Man , the more imprudent Beast , Drags the dull weight when he may be releas't : May such ye Gods ( too many such we see ) While they live here , just only live , to be The marks of Scorn , Contempt , and Infamy . But if the Tyde of Nature boist'rous grow , And would Rebelliously its Banks o'reflow , Then chuse a Wench , who ( full of lewd desires ) Can meet your flouds of Love with equal fires ; And will , when e're you let the Deluge flie , Through an extended Sluce strait drain it dry ; That Whirl-pool Sluce which never knows a Shore , Ne're can be fill'd so full as to run ore , For still it gapes , and still cries — room for more ! Such only damn the Soul ; but a damn'd Wife , Damns that , and with it all the Joys of Life : And what vain Blockhead is so dull , but knows , That of two Ills the least is to be chose . But now , since Womans boundless Lust I name , Womans unbounded Lust I 'le first proclaim : Trace it through all the secret various ways , Where it still runs in an eternal Maze : And show that our lewd Age has brought to view , What impious Sodom , and Gomorrah too , Were they what once they were , would blush to do . True , I confess that Rome's Emperial Whore , ( More Fam'd for Lust , than for the Crown she wore ) Aspir'd to Deeds so impiously high , That their immortal Fame will never die : Into the publick Stews ( disguis'd ) she thrust , To quench the raging Fury of her Lust : Her part against th' Assembly she made good , And all the Sallies of their Lust withstood , And drain'd 'em dry ; exhausted all their store ; Yet all could not content th' insatiate Whore , Her C — — like the dull Grave , still gap't for more . This , this she did , and bravely got her Name Born up for ever on the Wings of Fame : Yet this is poor , to what our Modern Age Has hatch'd , brought forth , and acted on the Stage : Which for the Sex's glory I 'le reherse ; And make that deathless , as that makes my Verse . Who knew not ( for to whom was she unknown ) Our late illustrious Bewley ? ( true , she 's gone To answer for the num'rous Ills sh 'as done ; Who , tho' in Hell ( in Hell , if any where ) Hemm'd round with all the flames and tortures there , Finds 'em not fiercer , tho' she feels the worst , Then when she liv'd , her own wild flames of Lust. ) As Albions Isle fast rooted in the Main , Does the rough Billows raging force disdain , Which tho' they foam , and with loud terrors rore , Yet they can never reach beyond their shore . So she with Lusts Enthusiastick Rage , Sustain'd all the salt Stallions of the Age. Whole Legions she encounter'd , Legions tir'd ; Insatiate yet , still fresh Supplies desir'd . Illustrious Bawd ! whose Fame shall be display'd , When Heroes Glories are in Silence laid , In as profound a Silence , as the Slaves Their conqu'ring Swords dispatch'd into their Graves . But Bodies must decay ; for 't is too sure , There 's nothing from the Jaws of Time secure . Yet , when she found that she could do no more , When all her Body was one putrid Sore , Studded with Pox , and Ulcers quite all o're ; Ev'n then , by her delusive treach'rous Wiles , ( Which show'd most specious when they most beguil'd ) Sh' enroll'd more Females in the List of Whore , Than all the Arts of Man e're did before . Prest with the pond'rous guilt , at length she fell ; And through the solid Centre sunk to Hell : The murm'ring Fiends all hover'd round about , And in hoarse howls did the great Bawd salute ; Amaz'd to see a sordid lump of Clay , Stain'd with more various bolder Crimes than they : Nor were her torments less ; for the dire Train , Soon sent her howling through the rowling flames , To the sad Seat of everlasting pain . Cresswold , and Stratford , the same path do tread ; In Lust's black Volumes so profoundly read , That wheresoe're they die , we well may fear , The very tincture of the Crimes they bear , With strange infusion may inspire the dust , And in the Grave commit true acts of Lust. And now , if so much to the World 's reveal'd , Reflect on the vast Stores that lie conceal'd : How , when into their Closets they retire , Where flaming Dil — s does inflame desire , And gentle Lap-d — s feed the am'rous fire : Lap-d — s ! to whom they are more kind and free , Than they themselves to their own Husbands be . How curst is Man ! when Bruits his Rivals prove , Ev'n in the sacred bus'ness of his Love. Great was the wise Man's saying , great , as true ; And we well know , than he none better knew ; Ev'n he himself acknowledges the Womb To be as greedy as the gaping Tomb : Take Men , Dogs , Lions , Bears , all sorts of Stuff , Yet it will never cry — there is enough . Nor are their Consciences ( which can betray Where e're they 're sworn to love ) less large than they ; Consciences , so lewdly unconfin'd ! That ev'ry one wou'd , cou'd they act their mind , To their own single share engross ev'n all Mankind . And when the Mind 's corrupt , we all well know , The actions that proceed from 't must be so . Their guilt 's as great who any ills wou'd do , As their's who freely do those ills pursue : That they would have it so their Crime assures ; Thus if they durst , all Women wou'd be Whores . Forgive me Modesty , if I have been In any thing I 've mention'd here , Obscene ; Since my Design is to detect their Crimes , Which ( like a Deluge ) overflow the Times : But hold — why shou'd I ask that Boon of thee , When 't is a doubt if such a thing there be ? For Woman , in whose Breasts thou' rt said to raign , And show the glorious Conquests thou dost gain , Despises thee , and only courts the Name : ( Sounds tho' we cannot see , yet we may hear ; And wonder at their Ecchoing through the Air. ) Thus led by what delusive Fame imparts , We think thy Throne 's erected in their Hearts ; But we' are deceiv'd ; as faith we ever were , For if thou art , I ▪ me sure thou art not there : Nothing in those vile Mansions does reside , But rank Ambition , Luxury , and Pride . Pride is the Deity they most adore ; Hardly their own dear selves they cherish more : When she commands , her Dictates they obey As freely , as the Lamp that guides the Day Rowls round the Globe to its great Maker's Will ; Vain sensless Sex ! how swift they flie to ill ? 'T is true , Pride revels chiefly in the Heart , From whence she does diffuse with impious Art , Her nauseous Poysons into ev'ry part : Survey their very Looks , you 'l find it there ; How can you miss it when 't is ev'ry where ? Some , through all hunted Nature's Secrets trace , To fill the Furrows of a wrinkl'd Face ; And after all their toyl ( pray , mark the Curse ) They 've only made that which was bad , much worse . As some in striving to make ill Coin pass , Have but the more discover'd that 't was Brass . Nay those that are reputed to be fair , And know how courted , and admir'd they are , Who one would think , God had made so compleat , They had no need to make his Gifts a Cheat ; Yet they too in adulteration share , And wou'd in spight of Nature be more fair . Deluded Woman ! tell me , where 's the gain , In spending Time upon a thing so vain ? Your precious Time , ( O to your selves unkind ! ) When 't is uncertain you 've an hour behind Which you can call your own : For tho' y' are Fair , And beautiful as Guardian Angels are ; Adorn'd by Nature , fitted out by Art , In all the Glories that delude the Heart : Yet tell me , tell ; have they the pow'r to save ? Or can they priviledge you from the Grave ? The Grave which favors not the Rich or Fair ; Beauty with Beast lies undistinguish'd there . But hold — methinks I 'me interrupted here , By some Gay-Fop I neither Love nor Fear ; Who in these words his weakness does reveal , And hurts that Wound which he shou'd strive to heal . " Soft Sir , methinks you too inveterate grow ; " Y' are so much theirs , y' are to your self a Foe , " And more your Envy , than Discretion show . " who 'd blame the Sun because he shines so bright , " That we can't gaze upon his daz'ling light ? " When at the self-same time he cheers the Earth , " And gives the various Plants , and Blossoms birth . " How does the Winter look , that naked thing , " Compar'd with the fresh Glories of the Spring ? " Rivers , adorn the Earth ; the Fish , the Seas ; " Flow'rs , and Grass , the Meadows ; Fruit , the Trees ; " The Stars , the Fields of Air through which they ride ; " And Woman , all the Works of God beside : " Yet base detracting Envy wont allow " They should adorn themselves ; then pray Sir , now " Produce some Reason's why y' are so severe ; " For envious as you are , you know they 're Fair. True Sir say I — so were those Apples too , Which in the midst of the first Garden grew ; But when they were examin'd , all within , Wrapt in a specious and alluring skin , Lay the rank baits of never-dying Sin. Nature made all things fair ; 't is not deny'd ; And dress'd 'em in an unaffected Pride : The Earth , the Meadows , Rivers , Woods , and Flow'rs , Proclaim the skill of their great Maker's pow'r ; And as they first were made , do yet remain , And all their prim'tive Beauties still retain . Nothing but vain fantastick Woman 's chang'd ; And through all mischief 's various Mazes rang'd : And with strange frantick Folly they have shown , ( Folly peculiar to themselves alone ) More ways to Pride , Sloth , and all sorts of Sin , Than there are Fires in Hell to plunge 'em in . Thus , that they 're Fair , you see is not deny'd ; But tell me , are th' Unhansom free from Pride ? No , no ; the Strait , the Crooked , Ugly , Fair , Have all , promiscuously , an equal share . Thus Sir , you see how they 're estrang'd , and stray'd , From what by Nature they at first were made . Yet , tho' so many of their Crimes I 've nam'd , That 's still untold for which they most are Fam'd : A Sin ! ( tall as the Pyramids of old ) From whose aspiring top we may behold Enough to damn a World — what shou'd it be , But ( Curse upon the Name ! ) Inconstancy ? O tell me , does the World those Men contain ( For I have look't for such , but look't in vain ) Who ne're were drawn into their fatal Snares ? Fatal call 'em , for he 's damn'd that 's there . Inspir'd then by your Wrongs , and my just spight , I 'le bring the Fiend unmask't to humane sight , Tho hid in the black Womb of deepest Night . No more the Wind , the faithless Wind , shall be A Simile for their Inconstancy , For that sometimes is fixt ; but Woman's mind , Is never fixt , or to one Point inclin'd : Less fixt than in a Storm the Billows be ; Or trembling Leaves upon an Apsen Tree , Which ne're stand still , but ( ev'ry way inclin'd ) Turn twenty times with the least breath of Wind. Less fixt than wanton Swallows while they play In the Sun-beams , to welcome in the Day : Now yonder , now they 're here , as soon are there , In no place long , and yet are ev'ry where . Like a toss'd Ship their Passions fall and rise , One while you 'd think it touch'd the very Skies , When strait upon the Sand it grov'ling lies . Ev'n she her self , Silvia th' lov'd , and fair , Whose one kind look cou'd save me from despair ; She , she whose Smiles I valu'd at that rate , To enjoy them I scorn'd the Frowns of Fate ; Ev'n she her self ( but Ah! I 'me loth to tell , Or blame the Crimes of one I lov'd so well ; But it must out ) ev'n she , swift as the Wind , Swift as the airy motions of the Mind , At once prov'd false and perjur'd , and unkind . Here they to Day invoke the Pow'rs above , As Witnesses to their immortal Love ; When ( lo ! ) away the airy Fantom flies , And e're it can be said to live it dies : Thus all Religious Vows , and Oaths they break , With the same ease and freedom as they speak . Nor is that Sacred Idol , Marriage free , ( Marriage ! which musty Drones affirm to be The tye of Souls , as well as Bodies ! nay , The Spring that does through unseen Pipes convey Fresh sweets to Life , and drives the bitter dregs away ! The Sacred Flame , the Guardian Pile of Fire , That guides our steps to Peace ! nor does expire , Till it has left us nothing to desire ! ) Ev'n thus adorn'd , the Idol is not free From the swift turns of their Inconstancy . Witness th' Ephesian Matron ; whose lewd Act , Has made her Name immortal as the Fact : Who to the Grave with her dead Husband went , And clos'd her self up in his Monument ; Where on cold Marble she lamenting lay , In sighs , she spent the Night ; in tears , the Day . The wond'ring World extoll'd her faithful Mind , Extoll'd her as the Best of Womankind : But see the World's mistake ; and with it , see The strange effects of wild Inconstancy ! For she her self , ev'n in that sacred Room , With one brisk , vig'rous on-set was o'recome , And made a Brothel of her Husband's Tomb : Whose pale Ghost trembl'd in its sacred shrowd , Wond'ring that Heav'n th' impious act allow'd : Horror in Robes of Darkness stalk't around ; And through the frighted Tomb did groans resound . The very Marbles wept ; the Furies howl'd , And in hoarse Murmurs their amazement told . All this shook not the Dictates of her Mind , But with a boldness , bold as was her Crime , She made her Husband's Ghost ( in Death , a Slave ! ) Her necessary Pimp , ev'n in his Grave ! Are these ( ye Gods ) the Virtues of a Wife ? The Peace that crowns a Matrimonial Life ? Is this the Sacred Prize for which Man fights ? Bliss , of his Days ? and Rapture , of his Nights ? The Rains , that guides him in his wild Careers ? And the Supporter of his feeble Years ? His freedom , in his Chains ? in want , his Store ? His Health , in Sickness ? and his Wealth , when Poor ? No , no , 't is Contradiction ; opposite , As much as Heav'n 's to Hell , or Day 's to Night . They crown Man's Life with Peace ? no , rather far , They are the cause of all his bosom-war ; The very Sourse , and Fountain of his Woes , From whence Despair , and Doubt for ever flows : The Gall , that mingles with his best delight ; Rank , to the taste ; and nauseous , to the sight : A days , the weight of Care that clogs his breast , At Night the Hagg that does disturb his rest : His mortal sickness , in the midst of health ; Chains , in his Freedom ; Poverty , in Wealth : Th' eternal Pestilence , and Plague of Life ; Th' original , and spring of all his Strife ; These rather are the Virtues of a Wife ! Yet if all these should not sufficient be , To make us understand our misery , See it summ'd up in their Inconstancy : In which , so many various ways they move , They now inconstant in their Follies prove , Ev'n as inconstant as they do in Love : Nor is 't alone confin'd in those to range , Their Vices too themselves admit of change , Their dearest darling Vices , Lust , and Pride , With all they promise , think , or dream beside : O how inconstant then must Woman be , When constant onely in Inconstancy ? O why , ye awful Pow'rs , why was 't your Will To mix our solid good with so much ill ? Unless 't were when you found Rebellious Man , ( For ' ere time was you cou'd their Actions scan ) Would commit Crimes so impious , and high , That they were made your veng'ance to supply : For not the wild destructive waste of War , Nor all the endless Lab'rinths of the Bar , Famine , Revenge , perpetual loss of health , No nor that grinning Friend Despair it self , When it insults with most tyranick sway , Can plague or torture Mankind more than they . But hold — don't let me blame the Pow'rs Divine ; Or at the wond'rous Works they made , repine . All first was good , form'd by th' eternal Will , Tho' some has since degenerated to ill : Ev'n Woman was ( they say ) made chaste , and good ; But Ah! not long in that blest State she stood : She fell , she fell , and sow'd the poys'nous Seeds Of Murder , Rapine , all inhumane Deeds ; Which now so very firm have taken root , That Heav'n in vain wou'd strive to raze 'em out . But stop my Pen ; for who can comprehend , Or trace those Crimes which ne're can have an end ? The Sun , the Moon , the Stars that guild the Sky , The World , and all its Glories too must dy , And in one universal Ruine ly : But they ev'n Immortality will gain , And live — but must for ever live in pain ; For ever live , damn'd to eternal Night , And never more review the sacred Light. Beware then , dull deluded Man , beware ; And let not treach'rous Woman be the snare , To make you the Companions with 'em there : Scorn their vain Smiles , and all their Arts despise , And your Content at that just value prize , As not to let those rav'nous Thieves of Prey , Rifle , and bear the Sacred Prize away : 'T is they , 't is they that robs us of that Gem ; How cou'd we lose it were it not for them ? Avoid 'em then , with all the gawdy Arts , Which they still practise to amuse our Hearts ; Avoid 'em , as you wou'd avoid their Crimes , Or the mad Follies that infest the Times ; Avoid 'em , as you wou'd the pains of Hell , For in them , as in that , Damnation dwells . But now , shou'd some ( for doubtless we may find Many a true bred Beast amongst Mankind ) Shou'd such contemn the wholsom Rules I give , And in contempt of what I 've spoke , still live Like base soul'd Slaves , still those vile Fetters wear , When they may be as unconfin'd as Air , Or the wing'd Race that does inhabit there ; May all the Plagues that Woman can invent , Pursue 'em with eternal punishment : May they — but stay , my Curses I forestall ; For in one Curse I 've comprehended all . — But say Sir ; if some Pilot on the Main , Shou'd be so mad , so resolutely vain , To steer his Bark upon that fatal Shore , Where he has seen ten thousand wrack't before , Tho' he shou'd perish there ; say , wou'd you not Bestow a Curse on the Notorious Sot ? Trust me , the Man 's as frenzical as he , Who ventures his frail Bark out wilfully , On the wild , rocky , matrimonial Sea ; When round about , and just before his Eyes , Such a destructive waste of fatal Ruine lies FINIS .