I thee intreat, quoth he, good-wife, To take thy Charge, and all my life I'll never meddle with huswivery more, Nor find such faults as I did before; Give me the Cart Whip and the Frail, Take thou the Churn and Milking pail. The good-wife she was well content And about her Huswivery she went; He to Hedging and to Ditching, Heaping, Mowing, Lading, Pitching, He would be twatling[F. 4] still before, But after that ne'r twatled more. I wish all Wives that troubled be With Hose and Doublet Huswivery, To serve them as this Woman did, Then may they work and ne'r be chid. Though she i' th' intrim had some loss, Thereby she was eased of a Cross; Take heed of this you husband men, Let Wives alone to grope the Hen, And meddle you with Horse and Ox. And keep your Lambs safe from the Fox, So shall you live Contented lives, And take sweet pleasure in your Wives. FINIS. Printed for J. Wright,[F. 5] J. Clarke,[F. 6] W. Thackeray,[F. 7] and T. Passinger.[F. 8] [Footnote 1: Floats, _i.e._ skims the cream floating on the milk.] [Footnote 2: Feels whether they have eggs.] [Footnote 3: One who meddles in women's business.] [Footnote 4: Chattering.] [Footnote 5: Published from 1670 to 1690.] [Footnote 6: From 1650 to 1682.] [Footnote 7: From 1660 to 1680.] [Footnote 8: From 1670 to 1682.] [8.] The Marquess of _Worcester_, calling for a glass of Claret wine, it was told him by his Physician, that Claret wine was naught for his gout; What, said the Marquess, my old friend Claret? nay, give it me in spight of all Physicians and their books, it never shall be said that I forsook my friend for my enemy. _On a cowardly Souldier._ _Strotzo_ doth weare no ring upon his hand, [5.] Although he be a man of great command; But gilded spurs do jingle at his heeles; Whose rowels are as big as some coach wheels, He grac'd them well, for in the Netherlands, His heels did him more service than his hands. _On a fly in a glasse._ A fly out of his glasse a guest did take, [5.] 'Ere with the liquor he his thirst would slake, When he had drunk his fill, again the fly Into the glasse he put, and said, though I Love not flyes in my drink yet others may, Whose humour I nor like, nor will gainsay. _Upon a Churle that was a great usurer._ A Chuffe that scarce hath teeth to chew his meate, [9.] Heares with deafe ears, and sees with glassy eies, Unto his grave his path doth daily beate, Or like a logg upon his pallett lies: Hath not a thought of God, nor of his grace, Speaks not a word but what intends to gaine, Can have no pitty on the poore Mans case, But will the hart-strings of the needy straine: