The Woman to the Plow and The Man to the Hen Roost.

Or, a fine way to cure a Cot Quean—.

The Tune is, I have for all good Wives a Song.—

[7.]

Both Men and Women listen well,

A merry Jest I will you tell,

Betwixt a Good man and his Wife,

Who fell the other day at strife:

He chid her for her Huswivery,

And she found fault as well as he,

With him for's work without the door,

Quoth he (we'l quarrel thus no more)

Sith you and I cannot agree,

Let's change the work. Content, quoth she,

My Wheel and Distaffe here take thow,

And I will drive the Cart and Plow.

This was concluded 'twixt them both,

To Cart and Plow the good-wife goeth,

The Good man he at home doth tarry,

To see that nothing doth miscarry.

An apron he before him put,

Judge, was not this a handsome slut.

He Brews and Bakes as well as he Can,

But not as it should be done, poor man:

As he did make his Cheese one day,

Two Pigs their Bellies broke with whey;

Nothing that he in hand did take,

Did come to good; once he did Bake,

And burnt the Bread as black as a stock,

Another time he went to Rock

The Cradle, and threw the child o' th' floor,

And broke his Nose, and hurt it sore.

He went to milk one Eventide

A Skittish Cow on the wrong side,

His pail was full of Milk, God wot,

She Kickt and spilt it every jot.

Besides she hit him a blost o' th' face

Which was scant well in six weeks space.

Thus was he served, and yet too well

And more mischances yet befell.

Before his apron he'd leave off,

Though all his neighbours did him scoff.

Now list and mark one pretty jest,

'Twill make you laugh above all the rest,

As he to churn his Butter went,

One Morning with a good intent,

For he had quite forgot the Cream,

He churn'd all Day with all his might,

And yet he could get no Butter at night.

'Twere strange indeed for me to utter

That without Creame he should make Butter.

Now having shew'd his huswivery,

Who did all things thus untowardly,

Unto the good-wife I'll turn my Rhime,

And tell you how she spent her time;

She us'd to drive the Cart and Plow,

But do't well she Knew not how,

She made so many banks i' th' ground,

He been better have given five pound

That she had never ta'ne in hand

So sorely did she spoil the Land.

As she did go to Sow likewise,

She made a Feast for Crows and Pies,

She threw away a hanful at a Place,

And left all bare another Space.

At the Harrow she could not rule the Mare

But hid one Land, and left two bare.

And shortly after, one a day,

As she came home with a Load of Hay

She overthrew it, nay, and worse

She broke the Cart, and Kill'd a Horse:

The good-man that time had ill luck,

He let in the Sow, and Kill'd a Duck,

And being grieved at his heart,

For loss on's Duck, his Horse and Cart,

The many hurts on both sides done,

His eyes did with salt water run;

Then now, quoth he, full well I see

The Wheel's for her, the Plow's for me,

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,

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.

[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.

On a fly in a glasse.

Upon a Churle that was a great usurer.

[4.] An Arch Wag speaking of the late dreadful Fire of London, said Cannon Street roared, Wood Street was burnt to Ashes, Bread Street was burnt to a Coal, Pie Corner was over bak'd and Snow hill melted down.

[4.] A Highway man being to be hang'd in a Country Town, Order was sent to the Carpenter to make a Gallows; which he neglecting to do, the Execution was forc'd to be defer'd, for which the Judge was not a little angry, who sending for the Carpenter, asked him why he had not done it? Why Sir, said he, I have done two or three already, but was never paid for them; but had I known it had been for your Worship, I would have left all other business to have done it.

With his fa, la, lanctre down dille;

He fetcht his sword and he went to fight

With his fa, la, lanctre down dille;

As he went over hill and dale,

All cloathed in his coat of Male,

With his fa, la, lanctre down dille.

With his &c.

He ow'd the Dragon a shrewd good turne;

With his &c.

In at his mouth his sword he bent,

The hilt appeared at his fundament.

With his &c.

[1.] There was a Fryer in London, which did use to go often to the house of an old woman, but ever when he came to her house, she hid all the meat she had. On a time this Fryer came to her house (bringing certain Company with him) and demanded of the Wife if she had any meat. And she said, Nay. Well, quoth the Fryer, have you not a whetstone? Yea (qd. the Woman) Marry, qd. he, I would make meat thereof. Then she brought a whetstone. He asked her likewise if she had not a Frying-pan. Yea, said she, but what the devil will ye do therewith? Marry (said the Fryer) you shall see by and by what I will do with it; and when he had the pan, he set it on the fire, and put the whetstone therein. Cocks body, said the woman, you will burn the pan. No, no, qd. the Fryer, if you will give me some eggs, it will not burn at all. But she would have had the pan from him, when that she saw it was in danger; yet he would not let her, but still urged her to fetch him some eggs, which she did. Tush said the Fryer, here are not enow, go fetch ten or twelve. So the good Wife was constrayned to fetch more for feare lest the Pan should burn; And when he had them, he put them in the Pan. Now, qd he, if you have no butter the pan will burn, and the eggs too. So the good wife being very loth to have her pan burnt, and the eggs lost, she fetcht him a dish of butter, the which he put into the pan, and made good meat thereof, & brought to the table, saying, Much good may it do you my Masters, now may you say, you have eaten of a buttered Whetstone. Whereat all the Company laughed, but the woman was exceeding angry because the Fryer had subtilly beguiled her of her meat.

The Devill and the Fryar.

On Battus.