The Merry Cuckold.
Who frolickly taking what chance doth befall,
Is very well pleased with Wife, Hornes and all.
To the tune of, The merry Cuckold.
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YOu married men
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whom Fate hath assignd,
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To marry with them
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that are too much kind,
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Learn as I do,
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to beare with your wives,
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All you that doe so,
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shall live merry lives.
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I have a Wife
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so wanton and so free,
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That she as her life,
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loves one besides me,
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What if she doe,
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I care not a pin,
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Abroad I will goe,
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when my rivall comes in.
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I can be merry
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and drinke away care,
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With Claret and Sherry
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and delicate fare.
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My Wife has a Trade,
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that will maintain me,
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What though it be said,
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that a Cuckold I be.
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While she at home
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is taking her pleasure,
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Abroad I do rome,
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consuming her treasure.
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Of all that she gets.
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I share a good share,
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She payes all my debts,
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then for what should I care.
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She keepes me brave,
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and gallant in cloathing,
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All things I have,
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I do want for nothing.
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Therefore I connive,
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and winke at her faults,
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And daily I strive,
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against jealous assaults
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While for small gaines:
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my neighhours worke hard,
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I live (by her meanes)
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and never regard,
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The troubles and cares,
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that belong to this life,
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I spend what few dares:
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gramercy good Wife.
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Should I be jealous,
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as other men are,
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My breath like to bellowes,
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the fire of care
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Would blow and augment,
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therefore I thinke it best.
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To be well content,
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though I were Vulcans crest.
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Many a time
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upbraided I am,
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Some say I must dine,
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at the Bull or the Ramme:
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Those that do jeere
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cannot do as I may,
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In Wine, Ale and Beere,
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spend a noble a day,
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The Second part. To the same Tune.
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I By experience,
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rightly do know:
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That no strife or variance,
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(causes of woe)
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Can make a wife
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so bent to live chast,
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Thou in stead of strife,
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let patience be plact,
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If a man had
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all Argus his eyes,
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A wife that is bad,
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will something devise,
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To gull him tos face,
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then what boores mistrust,
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The hornes to disgrace,
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though weare it I must.
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Ile be content
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with this my hard chance,
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And in merryment
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my head Ile advance.
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Wishing I were
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but as rich as some men,
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Whose wives chast appeare,
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yet theyl kisse now and then.
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One trying to me,
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a great comfort is,
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Still quiet is she
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though I do amisse,
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She dares do no other,
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because she knowes well,
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That gently I smoother,
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what most men would tell.
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If I should rave,
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her minde would not alter
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Her swing she will have.
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thought be in a halter.
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Then sith that I get
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good gaines by her vice,
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I will not her let,
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but take share of the price.
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Why should I vexe,
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and pine in dispaire,
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I know that her sexe,
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are all brittle ware,
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And he that gets one
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who canstant abides,
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Obtaines that which none,
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or but few have besides.
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Yet will I not,
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accuse my wife.
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For nothing is got,
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by railing, but strife.
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I act mine owne sence.
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intending no wrong,
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No Cuckold nor Queane
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will care for this song.
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But a merry Wife,
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thats honest I know it,
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As deare as her life,
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will sure love the Poets
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And he thats no Cuckold
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in Countrey or City,
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However if lucke hold,
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will buy this our Ditty.
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