The misogyny of Lodge's Sir John of Bordeaux

‘But above all,’ and with that he fetched a deep sigh, ‘beware of love, for it is far more perilous than pleasant, and yet I tell you it allureth as ill as the sirens. Oh my sons, fancy is a fickle thing, and beauty's paintings are tricked up with time's colours, which being set to dry in the sun, perish with the same. Venus is a wanton, and though her laws pretend liberty, yet there is nothing but loss and glistering misery. Cupid's wings are plumed with the feathers of vanity and his arrows, where they pierce, enforce nothing but deadly desires. A woman's eye, as it is precious to behold, so it is prejudicial to gaze upon, for as it affordeth delight so it snareth unto death. Trust not their fawning favours, for their loves are like the breath of a man upon steel, which no sooner lighteth on but it leapeth off; and their passions are as momentary as the colours of a polyp [octopus or cuttlefish] which changeth at the sight of every object. My breath waxeth short and mine eyes dim; the hour is come and I must away. Therefore let this suffice: women are wantons, and yet men cannot want [be without] one, and therefore if you love, choose her that hath her eyes of adamant that will turn only to one point; her heart of a diamond that will receive but one form; her tongue of a shittim [acacia] leaf that never wags but with a south-east wind. And yet, my sons, if she have all these qualities – to be chaste, obedient, and silent – yet, for that she is a woman, shalt thou find in her sufficient vanities to countervail her virtues.

‘Oh now, my sons, even now take these my last words as my latest legacy, for my thread is spun and my foot is in the grave. Keep my precepts as memorials of your father's counsels, and let them be lodged in the secret of your hearts, for wisdom is better than wealth, and a golden sentence worth a world of treasure. In my fall see and mark, my sons, the folly of man, that being dust climbeth with [Briareus] to reach at the heavens, and ready every minute to die, yet hopeth for an age of pleasures.