When thus she'as made her silly Husband bend, She'll never let him have the upper hand. She manages Affairs, while he (poor Soul) Consents, because he's fearful to controul; Not that she will to Diligence adhere, She'll take the Pleasure, he may take the Care. Containing an unequal Dividend, His Business is to get, and hers to spend. If he's unable to supply her Lust, She'll take such care of that, another must. Her Prentice, Bully, Stallion, Foes or Friends, No matter who, if she but gain her Ends: While he's the very Subject of her Scorns, And sounds himself a Cuckold with his Horns: Yet she's so cunning, that she rails at Evil, And says, she hates a Harlot as the Devil. So have I heard a Pulpit Hector rant At Drunkenness, as zealous as a Saint, Curse it to Hell, with trembling and with fear, Tho' 'twas a Vice he seldom cou'd forbear. So she derides the thing she fancies best, And Damns the Sin she harbours in her Breast. _The Third Comfort._ Next comes a little Bantling to Town, Which the unthinking Cuckold calls his own. 'Tis like him too, as ever it can stare, The midnight Gossips then do all declare. _His very Picture_; every one do cry, _His Mouth, his Lips, his Chin, his Nose and Eye._ They tell him this, and he believes it too, Tho' it was gotten by the Lord knows who. Yet this Advantage from it he doth draw, He reigns chief Master, while she's in the Straw. But when she rises, all his Power must cease, And with it too, his Comfort and his Peace. Her Tongue's compounded of all sorts of ill, Given to lie, but seldom lying still. _You Rogue_ (quoth she) _where has your Rakeship been? These Thirty days your Honest Wife lay in? Here, Rock the Child, while I go take the Air, I won't be stifled up no longer here._ _The Fourth Comfort._