Another date with no dame.
So here is Jane Anger. Possibly a pseudonym, possibly her real name, but whoever she was she had a way with words once she got a head of steam on, and went into print in 1589 in defence of women, in response to a scurrilous pamphlet, defiantly entitling her broadsheet Her Protection of Women.
FIE on the falshoode of men, whose minds goe oft a madding, & whose tongues can not so soone bee wagging, but straight they fal a railing. Was there ever any so abused, so slaundered, so railed upon, or so wickedly handeled undeservedly, as are we women?
Esteeme of men as of a broken Reed,
Mistrust them still, and then you wel shall speede.
Once you finish cheering from the sidelines and enjoying Jane’s righteous indignation at the sexual objectification of her sex, once you have persuaded her to calm down (though not too much), I think Jane would be an excellent companion at any party.
THough, sharpe the seede, by Anger sowen,
we all (almost) confesse:
And hard his hap we aye account,
who Anger doth possesse:
Yet haplesse shalt thou (Reader) reape,
such fruit from ANGERS soile,
As may thee please, and ANGER ease
from long and wearie toile
Whose paines were tooke for thy behoofe,
to till that cloddye ground,
Where scarce no place, free from disgrace,
of female Sex, was found.
If ought offend, which she doth send,
impute it to her moode.
For ANGERS rage must that asswage,
as wel is understoode
If to delight, ought come in sight,
then deeme it for the best.
So you your wil, may well fulfill,
and she have her request.