husband she accounts all the rest trifles. She hath laid his dead body
in the worthiest monument that can be: she hath buried it in her one
heart. To conclude, she is a relic, that, without any superstition in
the world, though she will not be kissed, yet may be reverenced.



AN ORDINARY WIDOW

Is like the herald's hearse-cloth; she serves to many funerals, with a
very little altering the colour. The end of her husband begins in tears,
and the end of her tears begins in a husband. She uses to cunning women
to know how many husbands she shall have, and never marries without the
consent of six midwives. Her chiefest pride is in the multitude of her
suitors, and by them she gains; for one serves to draw on another, and
with one at last she shoots out another, as boys do pellets in eldern
guns. She commends to them a single life, as horse-coursers do their
jades, to put them away. Her fancy is to one of the biggest of the
Guard, but knighthood makes her draw in in a weaker bow. Her servants or
kinsfolk are the trumpeters that summon any to his combat. By them she
gains much credit, but loseth it again in the old proverb, _Fama est
mendax_. If she live to be thrice married, she seldom fails to cozen her
second husband's creditors. A churchman she dare not venture upon, for
she hath heard widows complain of dilapidations; nor a soldier, though
he have candle-rents in the city, for his estate may be subject to fire;
very seldom a lawyer, without he shows his exceeding great practice, and
can make her case the better; but a knight with the old rent may do
much, for a great coming in is all in all with a widow, ever provided
that most part of her plate and jewels (before the wedding) be concealed
with her scrivener. Thus, like a too-ripe apple, she falls off herself;