A Hee-Divell: or,
If this Womans Husband use her well,
Ile say some kindnesse may be found in Hell.
To the tune of, The Shee-divell.
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WHen I a Maiden was,
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I long'd to be married,
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But now (alas) such is my case,
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I wish I had longer tarried,
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Matching over hastily
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hath wrought me mickle evill.
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She that weds such a knave as I,
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were as good to marry the Devill.
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I thought each day as long as a yeere,
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untill that I was mated,
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My Mayden-head I could not beare,
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so sore that life I hated:
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I long'd to have a man,
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with pleasure to content me,
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But now that I have gotten one,
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it sorely doth repent me.
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For he is such a dogged wretch,
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and doth so basely use me,
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Many a sorrowfull sigh I fetch,
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when he doth beat and bruise me.
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I marryed him for love
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that was not worth a farthing,
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And yet he doth ingratefull prove,
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judge, is not this a hard thing?
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Two hundred pounds in ready coyne,
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my father did bequeath me,
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Which I (as freely as t'was mine)
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did give to him that hath me.
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Against my friends consent,
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I chose him for my pleasure,
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But now my hasty match repent,
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I doe (as they say) by leasure.
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The second part To the same tune.
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HE doth consume & waste my means
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in lewd dishonest fashion,
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Among a crew of Knaves and Queanes
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which turnes to my vexation:
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And if I speake to him
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in kindnesse, to reclaime him,
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Heele with his girdle lace my skin,
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though all the neighbours blame him
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Every day I labour sore
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and earne my food with sweating,
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Yet all the thankes I have therefore,
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is nought unlesse 't be a beating.
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What I have earn'd all day,
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(alas) I speakt with sorrow,
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The knave at night takes all away,
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to spend upon the morrow.
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And glad am I to please him so,
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if I might but live quiet:
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While he doth to the Ale-house goe,
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I worke to get his dyet.
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Though my labour earnes the meat,
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I nor my little daughter,
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Till he hath done, dare nothing eate,
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but dine (like servants) after.
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When he comes home drunke at night,
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if supper be not drest,
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Most divellishly heele raile and fight,
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though humbly I request
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Him to be patient,
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but there is no such matter,
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And if the meat doe not him content,
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heele breake my head with the platter.
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I like a servile bond-slave,
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doe wipe his boots and shooes,
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And yet the domineering knave,
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so basely doth me use.
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That if one spot on them he find,
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about my head heele beat them,
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And if with words I shew my mind,
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I were as good to eat them.
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Though such a portion I did bring,
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as before is said,
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Yet I doe every droyling thing,
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heele let me keepe no Maide.
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I wash and scowre,
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yet (if you will beleeve me)
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I seldome live a quiet houre.
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judge whether this doth grieve me.
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If any neighbour me invite,
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to gossipping, or feasting,
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I dare not goe (is not this a spight)
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for feare of his molesting.
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I forth to supper went one night,
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but that may be my warning,
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Heele not indure me out on's sight,
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he is so afraid of horning.
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How can it chuse but griefe me still,
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to see some of my neighbours,
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That money have to spend at will
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out of their husbands labours,
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And I that to my portion brought
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two hundred pounds in money,
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Dare never doe, as women ought,
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nor barely spend a penny.
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If any time he money lacke
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and I cannot supply him,
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Heel pawn my garments from my back,
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and I dare not deny him,
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Tother day he tooke my smocke,
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and pawn'd it for a shilling,
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I came, and found him at the Cocke,
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just when the drinke was filling.
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All you Maidens faire,
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that have a mind to wed,
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Take heed and be aware,
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lest you like me be sped.
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And you good wives,
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that heare my wofull Ditty,
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If you ere bought Ballad in your lives,
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buy this, for very pitty.
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