For when that he perceived his Wife in such a rage, Nor knowing how, nor which way his fury to asswage: He cunningly got from her, and to the chamber went, Thinking himself to poyson, for that was his intent; So coming to the bottle, which I spoke of before, He thought it to be poyson, which hung behind the door: He vow'd to drink it all up, and end his wretched life, Rather than live in thraldom, with such a cursed Wife. So opening of a window, which stood towards the South, He took the bottle of sack, and set it to his mouth: Now will I drink this poyson, (quoth he) with all my heart; So that the first draught he drunk on't he swallowed near a quart: The second time that he set the bottle to his snout, He never left off swigging, till he had suckt all out: Which done, he fell down backward like one bereft of life, Crying out, I now am poysoned by means of my cursed Wife. Quoth he, I feel the poyson now run through every vein, It rumbles in my belly, and it tickles in my brain; It wambles in my stomack, and it molifies my heart, It pierceth through my members, and yet I feel no smart; Would all that have curst wives, example take hereby, For I dye as sweet a death sure, as ever man did dye: 'Tis better with such poyson, to end a wretched life, Than to live, and be tormented with such a wicked Wife. Now see what followed after, his Wife by chance did walk, And coming by the window, she heard her _Simon_ talk; And thinking on her bottle, she up the stairs did run, And came into the chamber, to see what he had done; When as she saw her Husband, lying drunk upon his back, And the bottle lying by him, but never a drop of sack: I am poyson'd, I am poyson'd, quoth he, long of my Wife, I hope I shall be at quiet now I have lost my life. Pox take you, are you poyson'd, (quoth she) I now will strive, And do my best endeavour to make you run alive: With that a quill of powder she blew up in his nose, Then like a man turn'd antick, he presently arose; So down the stairs he run straight, into the open street, With hooping and hollowing, to all that he did meet; And with a loud voice cryed out, I am raised from death to life, By virtue of a powder, that was given me by my Wife. Some folks that did behold him, were in a grievous fear, For seeing of a Madman, they durst not him come near: He leaped and he skipped, thorow fair and thorow foul, Whilst the people gaz'd upon him like pyce upon an owl: His Wife she followed after, thorow thick, and thorow thin, And with a basting cudgel she soundly bang'd his skin: And thus poor _Simon_ cryed out I'm raised from death to life, By virtue of a powder, that was given me by my Wife.