Sometimes with words both kind and mild I let her know my wretched state, For which I streightways am Revil'd: says she, I will appear more Great Than any Merchants _London_ Dame, Tho' thou art ruin'd for the same. 'Tis true she is both fair and young, and speaks _Italian_, _Greek_, _and Dutch_, Besides she hath the scolding Tongue, which is, in faith, a Tongue too much: I dare not speak nor look awry, For fear of her severity. My worldly glory, joy and bliss is turn'd to sorrow, grief and care, He that has such a Wife as this, needs no more torment I declare: To buy those Trinkets which they lack, Both Stock and Credit goes to Rack. There's many more, as well as I, in famous _London_ City fair, Whose Wives with prodigality doth fill their Husbands hearts with care; I pity those with all my Heart, Since I with them do bear a Part. [4.] Two Persons who had been formerly acquainted, but had not seen each other a great while, meeting on the Road, one ask'd the other how he did; he told him He was very well, and was Married since he saw him: the other reply'd, That was well indeed: not so well neither, said he, for I have Married a Shrew. That's ill, said the other. Not so ill neither, said he, for I had 2000 Pounds with her. That's well again, said his Friend. Not so well neither, for I laid it out in Sheep, and they died of the Rot. That was ill indeed, said the other. Not so ill neither, said he, for I sold the Skins for more money than the Sheep cost. That was well, indeed, quoth his friend. Not so well neither, said he, for I laid out my money in a House and it was burned. That's very ill, said the other. Not so ill neither, said he, _for my Wife was burned in it_. _On a little Gentleman and one Mr Story._ The little man, by t'other man's vain glory, [5.] It seems was roughly us'd (so says the story) But being a little heated and high blown, In anger flyes at _Story_, puls him down; And when they rise (I know not how it fated) One got the worst, the _Story_ was translated From white to red, but ere the fight was ended It seems a Gentleman, that one befriended, Came in and parted them; the little blade, There's none that could intreat, or yet perswade, But he would fight still, till another came, And with sound reasons councel'd gainst the same. 'Twas in this manner; friend, ye shall not fight With one that's so unequall to your height, _Story_ is higher; t'other made reply, I'd pluck him down were he three _Stories_ high. [18.] A Tradesman that would never work by Candle light, was asked the reason why? _To save Candles_, says he; _a Peny saved is a Peny got_. _Epitaph on a Scrivener._