An ANSWER To the
London CUCKOLD,
Lately fitted with a large pair of HORNS of the New Fashion, which his
Wife made him in the time of his Riding to Hounslow-Heath.
With an Account of his languishing under the Burden of his New Head-piece. Together
with his Wives faithful promise of seeking out for a speedy Cure for his lamentable di-
stemper.
To the Tune of, O Mother, Roger. This may be Printed, R.P.
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I Pray now listen to my Ditty
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I shall weep for evermore,
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All my neighbours now take pitty,
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I had ne'r such Horns before:
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How my head does throb and ake,
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And my heart with grief will break,
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I am wofully possest,
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Night and day I take no rest:
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O when I went the Camp to see,
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would I had took my Wife with me.
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Most bitterly I have lamented,
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O unhappy rigid Fate,
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Once I thought to be contented,
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but I find my grief so great,
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That there's none alive does know
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What I feel and undergo,
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I was loath the Horn to blow,
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But my heart is sunk full low:
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O when I went the Camp to see,
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would I had took my Wife with me.
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Dear Husband, let this be observed,
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never grive for what is past,
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You are not the first so served,
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no, nor will not be the last,
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Though thou wert a Cuckold made,
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It was by a ranting blade,
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Who most richly was array'd,
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We shall have a thriving trade;
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For they that gains my kind good-will,
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must bring ready Money still.
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Besides, I will not be so common,
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I resolve to pick and chuse,
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As I am an honest woman,
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I will never thee abuse,
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But wi[l]l stroke thy aged brows,
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Like a tender loving spouse,
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Though a wanton trick I show'd,
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Love it is the London mode,
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Then prithee take it patiently,
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And I will be a help to thee.
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I pray what is a Shop in London,
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but a place of care and strife,
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He that keeps it may be undone,
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if he han't a handsome Wife,
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For a beauty fair and gay,
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In their Silks and rich array,
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Like a tractive Load-stone they,
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Draw in custome day by day,
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Then Husband pray contented be,
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and I will be a help to thee.
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Wife tell me not of Gold or treasure,
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I have neither peace nor rest,
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Nor in Wealth can take no pleasure,
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while I wear this horned Crest,
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For where e're I walk the street,
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There is very few I meet,
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But with me will play the wag,
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Hunt and course me like a stag,
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O when I went to the Camp to see,
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would I had took my Wife with me.
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Why love they are but newly started,
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as the very truth I tell.
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Therefore be not thus dead-hearted,
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they become you passing well,
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Count it not as a disgrace,
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For as I am in this place,
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They adorn your aged face,
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With a more then common grace,
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And when they ride to Charlton-Fair,
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thou shalt be a Captain there.
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We see how many daily flourish,
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that are of the horned crew,
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Yet their loving Wives they'l nourish
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tho' theyv'e made um worse then you
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Therefore fear not fortunes frown,
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Why should you be thus cast down,
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Thou hast Brothers in the Town,
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Worse distempered in the crown,
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Sweet Wife I own all this may be,
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but Horns will not agree with me.
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Well Husband if you cannot bear it,
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I have gold and Silver sure,
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For thy sake i'le freely spare it,
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and seek out for speedy cure;
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There's an able Doctor then,
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Which has cur'd the worst of men,
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Nay i'le tell you likewise, when
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They were threescore years and ten,
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If now in town the Doctor be,
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i'm sure he's cure thee perfectly.
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