THE
Good Wives Humble Petition;
Or, The
Extravegant Spend-thrift's
Thorough reformation, by the prevailing Arguments of
his kind and loving wife.
Tune of, March Boys. Licensed according to Order.
|
KInd Husband, the Comfort of my life,
|
in whom I have plac'd my chiefest joy,
|
Be rul'd by thy kind and loving Wife,
|
then shall we our Sorrows soon destroy.
|
The World upon us begins to frown,
|
since thou hast consum'd thy Stock of treasure
|
With Revelling Gamesters up and down,
|
which grieves, which grieves me out of measure,
|
Good man, good man, labour to be wiser,
|
O let it be thy true Endeavour,
|
Now to Reclaim, and forsake e'ery Game,
|
'tis better, Husband, now than never.
|
Five Hundred Pounds, thou know'st, I brought,
|
which thou did'st receive on my Wedding day,
|
By Riotous iiving e'ery Groat
|
is wasted, and consum'd away;
|
My glorious state is blasted quite,
|
with sorrow and grief, I am surrounded;
|
My Eyes they have water'd day and night,
|
to see my substance thus confounded:
|
Sweet love, dear love, be no longer cruel,
|
but let it be thy true Endeavour,
|
Now to Reclaim, and forsake e'ery Game,
|
'tis better, Husband, now than never.
|
My sorrows I can no longer hide,
|
my Dearest don't thus to Ruine run,
|
O pity thy little Lambs, she cry'd,
|
thy Daughter and sweet Smiling Son;
|
Our sorrows, Alas! are most severe,
|
a sad bitter cup thou hast been brewing,
|
Ah! what will become of us, my Dear,
|
if you should prove our utter Ruine:
|
Sweet love, dear love, let me now intreat thee,
|
to make it now thy true endeavour,
|
For to reclaim, and forsake e'ery Game,
|
'tis better, Husband, now than never.
|
If thou will't amend thy life at last,
|
tho' Treasure be spent, and Lands be sold,
|
I freely can pardon what is past,
|
thy lave it is more to me than gold;
|
What tho' I was Genteel bred and born,
|
and was many Hundred Pounds possessing,
|
To labour with thee, I will not scorn,
|
so I may but enjoy the blessing:
|
Dear love, sweet love, now no longer grieve me,
|
but make it still thy true Endeavour,
|
Now to Reclaim, and forsake e'ery Game,
|
'tis better, Husband, now than never.
|
Instead of my Robes and Rich Array,
|
which formerly I was wont to wear,
|
Now give me a modest Gown of gray,
|
and that shall content me, I declare;
|
My Grandeur I never more will mind,
|
farewel to my Jemms, and Rich Attire,
|
Do thou be but loving, good and kind,
|
and that is all I do desire:
|
Sweet love, dear love, now no longer grieve me,
|
but let it be thy true Endeavour,
|
To love thy Wife, and reform thy loose life,
|
'tis berter, Husband, now than never.
|
My love, I have heard thy mournful crys,
|
which causes my very heart to bleed,
|
O dry up thy melting, melting Eyes,
|
for I will reform my life with speed;
|
This promise I solemnly do make,
|
that now for my future days ensuing,
|
Bad Company I will quite forsake,
|
for they have almost prov'd my Ruine,
|
Taverns, Gaming, never will I practice,
|
but make it always my Endeavour,
|
To love my wife, and my Lambs as my life,
|
my dear, 'tis better now than never.
|
|
|
|
|
|