The Merchant-man and the Fidlers wife:
Discovering a pretty conceit how a Fidler, in hope of gain
(and trusting too much to his Wifes honesty) was made a Cuckold by the
Merchant; and lost his Fiddle to boot.
He laid his Fiddle to a Ship
In hope for to be made
But P eggy let the Merchant slip,
And Robin he was betray'd.
To a P leasant Northen T une, by J.P.
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I T was a Rich Merchant man,
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That had both ship and all,
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And he would crosse the salt Seas,
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though his cunning it was but small.
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The Fidler and his wife,
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they being near at hand,
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Would needs go sail along with him,
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from Dover unto Scotland.
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The Fidlers wife lookt brisk,
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which made the merchant smile
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He made no doubt to bring it about,
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the Fidler to beguile,
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Is this thy wife the merchant, said,
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She looks like an honest Spouse,
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I that she is, the fidler said,
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that ever trod on Shooes,
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Thy confidence, is very great,
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the merchant then did say,
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If thou a wager darest to bet,
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I'le tell thee what I will lay,
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Ile lay my Ship against thy Fiddle
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and all my venture too,
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So Peggy may gang along with me
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my Cabin for to view.
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If she continue one hour with me
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thy true and constant Wife,
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Then shalt thou have my Ship and be
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A Merchant all thy life.
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The Fidler was content,
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he danc'[d] and leapt for joy,
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And twang'd his Fiddle in merriment,
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For Peggy he thought was coy,
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T Hen Peggy she went along,
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His Cabbin for to view,
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And after her the Merchant Man
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Did follow we found it true.
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When they were once together,
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The Fidler was afraid,
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For he crept near in piteous fear,
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And thus to Peggy he said,
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Hold out, sweet Peggy hold out
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For the space of two half hours,
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If thou hold out, I make no doubt
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But the ship and Goods are ours,
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O how can I hold out,
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he hath got me about the middle
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He's lusty and strong and hath laid me along
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O Robbin th' hast lost thy Fiddle,
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If I have lost my Fiddle,
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Then am I man undone,
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My Fiddle whereon I so often plaid,
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Away I needs must run.
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O stay, the Merchant said,
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And thou shalt keep thy place,
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And thou shalt have thy Fiddle again,
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But P eggy shall carry the case,
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Poor Robbin hearing that
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He look't with a merry chear,
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His Wife she was pleas'd and the Merchant was eas'd
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And jolly and brisk they were.
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The Fidler he was mad,
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But valu'd it not a fig,
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Th[e]n Peggy unto her Husband said,
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Kind Robbin play us a jig,
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Then he took up his fiddle,
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And merrily he did play,
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The Scottish jig , and the Horn-pipe,
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And eke the Irish Hey,
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It was but in vain to grieve,
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The deed it was done and past,
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Poor Robbin was born to carry the horn,
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For Peggy could not be chaste.
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Then fidlers all beware
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Your Wives are kind you see,
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And he that is made for the fidling trade,
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Must never a Merchant be,
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For Peggy she knew right well
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although she was but a Woman
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That Gamesters Drink, and fidlers wives,
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They are ever Free and Common
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