The Anatomy of Melancholy

If she is wise, learned and accomplished, the opposite danger is just as great: “It is most dangerous to marry a learned woman,” says Nevisanus. She will be too arrogant and ill-tempered.

I prefer Venusina to you, mother Cornelia.

Take care: if she is slovenly, you will loathe her; if proud, she will beggar you. “She will spend your inheritance on trinkets; all Arabia will not suffice to perfume her hair,” says Lucian. If beautiful and wanton, she will make a cuckold of you; if ugly, she will paint her face.

If her face is ugly by nature, she will improve it artificially, “with borrowed, external deceptions”—and who can bear that? If she does not paint, she will look so ugly that you cannot love her, and perhaps that will make you unfaithful. Kromer, in book 12 of his History, relates that Casimir was unchaste because his wife Aleida, daughter of Henry, Landgrave of Hesse, was so ugly.

If she is poor, she brings poverty with her, says Nevisanus, misery and discontent. If you marry a maiden, you cannot be sure how she will turn out:

Perhaps she will prove ill suited to you.

If young, she is likely to be wanton and untaught; if vigorous, too lustful. And if she is not satisfied—you know where and when—there is “nothing but quarrelling”: everything is in uproar, and little peace is to be had. If she is an older maiden, there is a risk she will die in childbirth; if a rich widow, “you lead yourself into a snare,” you put a halter round your own neck: she will hand everything over beforehand to her other children, etc.

Who could endure a thundering mistress?

She will constantly reproach you with her first husband. If a young widow, she is often insatiable and immodest. If she is rich, well born, brings a large dowry or has noble connections, your wife’s relations will eat you out of house and home: “A rich woman brings ruin upon a household.” She will be so proud, so haughty, so domineering. For

Nothing is more unbearable than a rich woman.

There is nothing so unbearable. You will be like the male of a goshawk: she will ride roughshod over you, domineer as she pleases, wear the breeches in her oligarchic government, and beggar you besides.

“Rich wives demand servitude”—as Seneca strikes at them in book 2, declamation 6—“I accepted a dowry and lost my authority.” They will have sovereignty: “You summon a mistress instead of a wife.” They will have servants waiting on them; they will do as they please. In taking a dowry you lose your liberty: “The dowry comes in, freedom goes out”; you put your estate at risk.

These and many other troubles accompany great dowries, And unbearable expenses, etc.

With many such inconveniences. At best, she is a servant who gives orders; you would have done better to take a maiden who was a good housekeeper, with nothing but her shift. Since there is such risk, if you are wise, stay as you are: it is good to marry, much better to be free.