Some flowers in a garden have colour but no scent; others smell sweet but are ugly to look at. One tastes unpleasant like rue, bitter as wormwood, yet is a highly medicinal, strengthening flower, most welcome to the stomach. So it is with men and women: one has good qualities but is ill-proportioned, poor and low-born. She has a fine eye but an ugly hand and foot, “ugly in feet and ugly in hands”; a fine leg, bad teeth, a huge body, and so on.

Examine every part of body and mind; I advise you to inquire into everything. See her angry or cheerful, laughing or weeping, hot or cold, ill or sulky, dressed or undressed, in every kind of clothing, position, gesture and passion, at her meals, and so on; in some of these states you will surely dislike her.

Indeed, let him observe not only her but also how her parents conduct themselves. Whatever deformities, defects or burdens of body or mind they have at a given age, their children will probably suffer from likewise: they will “take after their father” or “take after their mother.” At the same time let him notice her companions “in daily company,” as Quiverra prescribes, and “those with whom she associates”—the people she spends time with.

A person not known by himself is known by his companion.

According to Thucydides, the best woman is generally the one “of whom least is said in public,” the one least talked about abroad. For if she is a well-known reveller, a gadabout, a singer, one who dresses to show off, or a dancer, then beware of her. For what does Theocritus say?

But you merry girls, do not, do not dance! Look, a wicked goat is here, ready to mount you.

Young men will do it when the chance comes,

Fauns and satyrs will certainly play their wild tricks when they enter the presence of such a wanton woman as Baccho’s Elenora. When men perceive any such deviation, indecency, disproportion, deformity or bad character, let them keep dwelling on it; as Haedus advises, drawing on Ovid, “let them note the women’s faults”: mark their faults, vices and errors, and think about their imperfections. This is the most direct way to turn aside and soften love’s furious, headstrong passions, just as a peacock’s feet and dirty comb are said to make him forget his fine feathers and the pride of his tail.

She is lovely, beautiful, good-looking, accomplished, courteous and kind; but if she is not so to me, what do I care how kind she is? I say with Philostratus, “Beautiful to others, haughty towards me”: she is a tyrant to me, so let her go.

Besides these outward blemishes, obvious faults and errors, there are many hidden infirmities: some private, which I will omit, and some more common to the sex—sulky fits, bad qualities and filthy diseases—appropriate to consider in this case:

“Consideration of women’s foulness, especially menstrual foulness, how unclean they are”: Savonarola proposes, in his seventh rule, that this be thoroughly considered; Platina discusses it at length in his Dialogue on Love, as do Ludovicus Bonacialus in book 2, chapter 2 of his work on women, Petrus Haedus, Albertus and almost countless physicians.

A lover in Calcagnini’s Fables wished with all his heart that he were his mistress’s ring, so that he could see, hear, embrace, see again, and do I know not what. “You fool,” said the ring, “if you were in my place, you would hear, observe and see things shameful and regrettable, things that would make you loathe and hate her—perhaps even all women on her account.”

I will say nothing of the faults of their minds: their pride, envy, inconstancy, weakness, malice, wilfulness, frivolity, insatiable lust and jealousy. Ecclesiasticus 5:14: “No malice equals a woman’s, no bitterness is like hers,” Ecclesiastes 7:21. And, as the same author asks in Proverbs 31:10, “Who shall find a virtuous woman?” He makes a question of it.

“They know neither right nor goodness nor fairness; better or worse, helpful or harmful, they see nothing except what desire suggests.” They know neither good nor bad: whether it is better or worse, beneficial or harmful—as the comic poet puts it—they will do whatever they please.

Snares of the human race, the lament of life, The spoils of night, the harshest care of day, The punishment of men, the death of young men too, etc.

And for that purpose they were first created, as Jupiter suggests in the poet:

The fire that bold Prometheus stole from me Shall be avenged with plagues called women: Poor mortals, doting on their alluring, enticing faces, Shall embrace their own death.

In short, as Diogenes concludes in Nevisanus, “There is no woman who does not have a certain something”: they all have their faults.

Every one of them has some fault: If one is full of wickedness, Another has a lustful eye. If one is full of wantonness, Another is a scold.

When Leander drowned, the inhabitants of Sestos consecrated Hero’s lantern to Anteros, “Sacred to Anteros.” Whoever had been successful in love was to light its candle; but no man was ever found to light it. I can attribute this to nothing but women’s inconstancy and frivolity.

For among a thousand there is not one good woman; All are so proud, ungrateful and unkind, With hearts of flint, heedless of others’ suffering, Swept blindly headlong by their own desires. But I am forbidden to say more about this: Sometimes one may be scolded for speaking the truth.

You see that I am unwilling to pursue the case against them, so take care not to misunderstand me: “I touch no married woman.” With all good men, and as I ought, I honour the sex. Rather than displease them, I will willingly swear the oath taken by Mercurius Britannicus, Description of Viragos, book 2, folio 95: “That I will never devise any harm against the most noble sex, either in word or in deed,” etc.