Humour, Wit, & Satire of the Seventeenth Century

English literature -- Early modern, 1500-1700; English wit and humor; Great Britain -- Civilization -- 17th century -- Literary collections

If I should give her forty pound,
    within her apron folding,
  No longer then she's telling on't,
    her tongue would ne'r leave scolding,
  As _Esops_ Dog barkt at the Moon
    thinking for to distast her,
  So doth my wife scold without cause
    and strives to be my master.
            _But if ever &c._

  Were I so strong as _Hercules_,
    or wiser than _Apollo_,
  Or had I _Icarus_ wings to flye,
    my wife would after follow:
  Or should I live as many years
    as ever did King _Nestor_,
  Yet do I greatly stand in fear
    my wife would be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  I know no cause nor reason why,
    that she with me should jangle,
  I never gave her cause at all
    to make her with me wrangle;
  I please her still in what I may,
    and do no jot distast her,
  Yet she doth strive both night and day
    always to be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  I every morning make a fire,
    all which is done to ease her
  I get a Nutmeg, make a toast,
    in hope therewith to please her:
  Of a Cup of nappy ale and spice,
    of which she is first taster,
  And yet this cros-grain'd quean will scold
    and strive to be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  I wash the dishes, sweep the house,
    I dress her wholsome dyet,
  I humour her in every thing,
    because I would be quiet:
  Of every several dish of meat,
    she'l surely be first taster,
  And I am glad to pick the bones,
    She is so much my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  Sometimes she'l sit while day gives light,
    in company with good fellows,
  In Taverns and in bowsing Kens,
    or in some pimping Ale house:
  And when she comes home drunk at night,
    though I do not distast her,
  She'l fling, she'l throw, she'l scratch and bite,
    and strive to be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  Her bed I make both soft and fine,
    and put on smock compleatly,
  Her shooes and stockings I pull off,
    and lay her down most neatly:
  I cover her, and keep her warm
    for fear I should distast her,
  I hug her kindly in my arms,
    Yet still She'l be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  And when I am with her in bed
    she doth not use me well sir,
  She'l wring my nose, and pull my ears,
    a pittiful case to tell sir;
  And when I am with her in bed,
    not meaning to molest her,
  She'l kick me out at the bed's feet,
    and so become my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  And thus you hear how cruelly
    my wife doth still abuse me,
  At bed, at board, at noon and night
    she always did misuse me:
  But if I were a lusty Man
    and able for to baste her,
  Then would I surely use some means,
    that she should not be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

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Humour, Wit, & Satire of the Seventeenth Century

English literature -- Early modern, 1500-1700; English wit and humor; Great Britain -- Civilization -- 17th century -- Literary collections

If I should give her forty pound,
    within her apron folding,
  No longer then she's telling on't,
    her tongue would ne'r leave scolding,
  As _Esops_ Dog barkt at the Moon
    thinking for to distast her,
  So doth my wife scold without cause
    and strives to be my master.
            _But if ever &c._

  Were I so strong as _Hercules_,
    or wiser than _Apollo_,
  Or had I _Icarus_ wings to flye,
    my wife would after follow:
  Or should I live as many years
    as ever did King _Nestor_,
  Yet do I greatly stand in fear
    my wife would be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  I know no cause nor reason why,
    that she with me should jangle,
  I never gave her cause at all
    to make her with me wrangle;
  I please her still in what I may,
    and do no jot distast her,
  Yet she doth strive both night and day
    always to be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  I every morning make a fire,
    all which is done to ease her
  I get a Nutmeg, make a toast,
    in hope therewith to please her:
  Of a Cup of nappy ale and spice,
    of which she is first taster,
  And yet this cros-grain'd quean will scold
    and strive to be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  I wash the dishes, sweep the house,
    I dress her wholsome dyet,
  I humour her in every thing,
    because I would be quiet:
  Of every several dish of meat,
    she'l surely be first taster,
  And I am glad to pick the bones,
    She is so much my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  Sometimes she'l sit while day gives light,
    in company with good fellows,
  In Taverns and in bowsing Kens,
    or in some pimping Ale house:
  And when she comes home drunk at night,
    though I do not distast her,
  She'l fling, she'l throw, she'l scratch and bite,
    and strive to be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  Her bed I make both soft and fine,
    and put on smock compleatly,
  Her shooes and stockings I pull off,
    and lay her down most neatly:
  I cover her, and keep her warm
    for fear I should distast her,
  I hug her kindly in my arms,
    Yet still She'l be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  And when I am with her in bed
    she doth not use me well sir,
  She'l wring my nose, and pull my ears,
    a pittiful case to tell sir;
  And when I am with her in bed,
    not meaning to molest her,
  She'l kick me out at the bed's feet,
    and so become my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  And thus you hear how cruelly
    my wife doth still abuse me,
  At bed, at board, at noon and night
    she always did misuse me:
  But if I were a lusty Man
    and able for to baste her,
  Then would I surely use some means,
    that she should not be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Humour, Wit, & Satire of the Seventeenth Century

Humour, Wit, & Satire of the Seventeenth Century

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