The Cock-pit CUCKOLD:
OR, A
Wonton Match between his Wife and a 'Squire,
WHO
Fought his Cock against her Game Hen, in her Husband's Absence: Concluding with Jack's
Punishment for speaking the Truth.
To an excellent new Tune: Licensed according to Order.
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COme all loving People, pray listen a while,
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Here is a new Ditty will cause you to smile;
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The truth of which passage there is none can deny;
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For Gallants I scorn to be catcht in a lye:
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There was a young Woman liv'd in a Cock-pit,
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She cuckold her Husband as well she thought fit;
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As honest a Man as lives under the Sun,
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For with a young 'Squire to Folly she run.
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Her Husband and she kept a sweet pretty Youth,
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A Lad who delighted in speaking the Truth,
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His Mistress in private he often had seen
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To toy with a 'Squire, who liv'd on the Green.
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The good Man, her Husband, he chanc'd to ride out,
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She sent for the 'Squire, young, gallant and stout,
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Whom she did conduct to her Chamber at night,
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To reap the sweet pleasures of wanton Delight.
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The Boy he went up to make her a Fire,
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And saw his young Mistress a Bed with the 'Squire;
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He thought it uncivil, yet nothing he said;
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But, Love, said her Gallant, we both are betray'd.
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Then out of the Bed the young 'Squire he run,
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And to this young little Boy thus he begun,
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Here is five pound or ten pound I promise to thee,
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If that thou wilt keep but this Counsel for me.
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Young Lad, if this passage should go any further,
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I here do assure you that there will be Murther;
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If you this Account to your Master should give,
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This Sword shall destroy you as you live.
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The 'Squire not proving so good as his Word,
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The little Boy fear'd not the point of his Sword;
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But unto his Master he carefully told,
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What he in the Chamber did chance to behold.
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Believe me, kind Master, and hear what I say,
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My Mistress all night with the 'Squire she lay;
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And I the next morning beheld them in bed;
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Now tell me, have you not a pain in your head?
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The Man to his Wife in a passion did go,
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And said, My dear Love, have you served me so?
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It is I must tell you a woful Disgrace,
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The Boy calls me Cuckold unto my own face.
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And likewise my Neighbours they laugh at me too,
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And tell me, The 'Squire has dally'd with you:
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This makes me horn-mad, and a weary of life,
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To think that I have such a wanton young Wife.
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Believe me, dear Husband, it is no such thing,
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This Boy to the Whipping-post, faith, you must bring;
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For should you believe him before you would me,
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Why then I must tell you we n'er shall agree.
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To the Whipping-post then they brought him with speed.
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At every Lash his poor Back it did bleed;
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And still as they lash'd him aloud he did cry,
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The 'Squire all night with my Mistress did lie.
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With Lashes, my Back and poor Shoulders does swell,
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My Mistress is wanton, she knows very well;
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And is it not pity, that I a poor Youth,
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This day should be punish'd for speaking the Truth?
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My Mistress adores the young 'Squire I'm sure;
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But as for my Master she cannot endure,
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In open Derision she laughs him to scorn,
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And now like a Cuckold let him wear the Horn.
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His Wife is excus'd that dishonour'd his Bed,
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And grafted a large pair of Horns on his Head;
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But I, his true Servant, am punish't you see,
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Faith, this is the tricks of such Cuckolds as he.
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