The Discontented BRIDE:
OR,
A brief Account of Will. the Baker, who Sow'd himself up in a Blanket every Night going to Bed, for
fear of Enlarging his Family.
He was a Drone full well we know,
that would not Sport or Play;
And he that serves a Woman so,
may make her run astray.
To the Tune of, The Maids a Washing themselves, etc. This may be Printed, R.P.
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WILL the Baker a Wooing went,
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At length the Damsel did give consent,
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A fair young Creature, both witty and pritty,
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yet after her Marriage she did lament:
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And good reason she had to do so,
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Her heart was filled with grief and woe;
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For after Marriage she still did complain,
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Her Maiden-head seven Months did remain.
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Tho' he lay by his Bride each Night,
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A fair young pattern of Beauty bright;
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Yet he did nothing to please her, or ease her,
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as being sow'd up in a Blanket tight:
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It was because he was 'fraid of his Charge,
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And that his Family would inlarge;
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Full seven Months he had layn by her side,
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Poor Creature, her patience in this was try'd.
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This old Blanket did cause much strife,
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Between the Baker and his fair Wife;
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For while he wore it, her trouble grew double,
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what Woman was able to lead this life?
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Still she wish'd she might find out a way,
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This paultry Blanket to convey,
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Where he might never behold it no more,
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That she might enjoy what he had in store.
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BUt one night among all the rest,
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When this poor Baker was quite undrest,
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He sought his Blanket to wind him, and bind him,
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but he of that Garment was dispossest:
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She had hid it he could not tell where,
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Which made the Baker begin to Swear,
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And would not go to his Bed for Repose,
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Until she had brought him his Swadling-Cloaths
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When she see all her hopes were fled,
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In grief and trouble she went to Bed,
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Where she lay sighing, not sleeping, but weeping,
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a thousand times wishing she'd ne'r been Wed:
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Yet he little regarded her moan,
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But snoring lay like a drowsie Drone,
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Wrapt up in his Blanket as tight as a pack,
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And never consider'd what she did lack.
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Well, said she, I'm resolv'd to find
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Some youthful Gallant to my own mind;
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I'le ne'r lye whining, perplexing and vexing,
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and thus I shall fit him but in his kind:
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For what Woman can wait at this rate?
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I am resolved to choose a Mate,
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Some youthful Gallant of vext'rous skill,
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And then he may lye in his Blanket still.
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Then she walking abroad next day,
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In all her Silks and Rich Array;
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A Ranting Gallant did meet her, and treat her,
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she had not the power to say him nay:
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In a Tavern some hours they spent,
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Where she enjoying her hearts content
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With this brave Gallant, whom she did adore,
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Who promis'd her many kind visits more.
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Tho' the Baker he did offend,
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Yet now her trouble is at an end;
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She doth not value his Courting or Sporting,
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since she doth enjoy a more loving Friend:
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In his Blanket he lies at his ease,
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While she may Revel it where she please,
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It is but reason without all dispute,
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If he will not, somebody else must do't.
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FINIS.
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