The Patient Countess. - extracted from Albion's England
Impatience chaungeth smoke to flame, but jealousie is hell;
Some wives by patience have reduc'd ill husbands to live well:
As did the ladie of an earle, of whom I now shall tell.
An earle 'there was' had wedded, lov'd; was lov'd, and lived long
Full true to his fayre countesse; yet at last he did her wrong.
Once hunted he untill the chace, long fasting, and the heat
Did house him in a peakish graunge within a forest great.
Where knowne and welcom'd (as the place and persons might afforde)
Browne bread, whig, bacon, curds and milke were set him on the borde.
A cushion made of lists, a stoole halfe backed with a hoope
Were brought him, and he sitteth down besides a sorry coupe
The poore old couple wisht their bread were wheat, their whig were perry,
Their bacon beefe, their milke and curds were creame, to make him merry.
Mean while (in russet neatly clad, with linen white as swanne,
Herlselfe more white, save rosie where the ruddy colour ranne:
Whom naked nature, not the aydes of arte made to excell)
The good man's daughter sturres to see that all were feat and well.
The earle did marke her and admire such beautie there to dwell.
Yet fals he to their homely fare and held him at a feast;
But as his hunger slaked, so an amorous heat increast.
When this repast was past and thanks and welcome too, he sayd
Unto his host and hostesse, in the hearing of the mayd,
'Yee know,' quoth he, 'that I am lord of this, and many townes;
I also know that you be poore, and I can spare you pownes.
'Soe will I, so yee will consent, that yonder lasse and I
May bargaine for her love; at least doe give leave to trye.
Who needs to know it? nay who dares into my doings pry?'
First they mislike, yet at the length for lucre were misled;
And then the gamesome earle did wowe the damsell for his bed.
He took her in his armes, as yet so coyish to be kist,
As mayds that know themselves belov'd, and yieldingly resist.
In few, his offers were so large she lastly did consent;
With whom he lodged all that night, and early home he went.
He tooke occasion oftentimes in such a sort to hunt.
Whom when his lady often mist, contrary to his wont,
And lastly was informed of his amorous haunt elsewhere;
It greev'd her not a little, though she seem'd it well to beare.
And thus she reasons with herselfe, 'Some fault perhaps in me;
Somewhat is done, that soe he doth: alas! what may it be?
'How may I winne him to myself? He is a man, and men
Have imperfections; it behooves me pardon nature then.
'To checke him were to make him checke, although hee now were chaste:
A man controuled of his wife, to her makes lesser haste.
'If duty then, or daliance may prevayle to alter him;
I will be dutifull and make my self for daliance trim.'
So was she, and so lovingly did entertaine her lord,
As fairer or more faultles none could be for bed or bord.
Yet still he loves his leiman and did still pursue that game,
Suspecting nothing less, than that his lady knew the same:
Wherefore to make him know she knew, she this device did frame:
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poem by William Warner
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