1:52:00
Unknit that threatening unkind brow,
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And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
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To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor.
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It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads.
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Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign;
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one that cares for thee,
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And for thy maintenance commits his body
To painful labour both by sea and land,
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To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
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While thou liest warm at home,
secure and safe;
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He craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks,
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and true obedience;
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Too little payment... for so great a debt.
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Such duty the subject owes the prince
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Even such a woman oweth to her husband.
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And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
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And not obedient to his honest will,
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What is she but a foul contending rebel,
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And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
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I am asham'd that women are so simple
To offer war when they should kneel for peace,
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Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
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When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.
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Why...
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are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,
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Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
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But that our soft conditions and our hearts
Should well agree with our external parts?