A pleasant new Ditty: intituled,
Though rich golden Booties your luck was to catch,
Your last was the best, cause you met with your match.
To the tune of, I know what I know.
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A Rich wealthy Batchelour thirty and odde,
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Had now a new crotchet crept into his pate:
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A wife he must have, what-soever betide,
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And well linde with Rubbish to inrich his state.
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Faire Maidens were offerd him, two, three, and foure,
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Sufficient Mens Daughters, with money to boote,
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Yet his greedy mind did still gape after more,
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For he said twas too little for him to goe tote.
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His meanes did affoord him three hundred a yeere,
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And three bonny Lasses had thousands apeece,
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Yet for it and them hee a pin did not care,
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Though one of them was to a Gentleman Neece.
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Shall I for a paltery poore thousand pound,
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A young wench goe marry with nothing but breed,
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Consume me in longings, in fashions, and toyes,
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No, yet it is time, and I now will take heed.
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There is a brisk Widdow that dwelleth hard by,
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In money hath ten thousand pounds at the least,
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Ile spruce my selfe up then incontinently,
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And to her Ile goe as a shutering Gest.
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This Batchelour soone did attaine his desire,
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The day was appointed when they should be wed,
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His youthfull faire Bride was but threescore and ten,
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For shee had but a tooth and a halfe in her head.
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Some three or foure yeeres did this bonny Lasse live,
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Then grim goodman death tooke her life cleane away,
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And griefe for her losse had the man almost sped,
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But that a new Widdow his journey did stay.
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His wife being buried, next morning he went,
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Another spruce Widdow agen for to see,
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Where mounted on Crutches he straight one espide,
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Who in state of riches was better than shee.
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His Mothers smock sure did this Widdower weare,
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For no sooner wood but he presently sped,
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A Licence he fetcht, and he marrid her straight,
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Then she threw downe her Stilts, & she hobbld to bed.
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Not full ten yeeres older then was his last wife,
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Was this same dryd mummey that lay by his side,
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With snorting and grunting she aird so the Bed,
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That never had Groome such a night by a Bride.
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But still did her money perfume all againe,
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And in a moneth after she bed-rid did lye.
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Seven Winters and Summers she lay at small ease,
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And then she departed because she must dye.
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Five hundred a yeere she augmented his state;
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Ten thousand pound cleare by the other he got,
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Meane time of another spruce Widdow he heard,
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Then he praid unto Jove that she might be his lot.
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The second part, To the same tune.
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THis Widdow seemd not above fifty at most,
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So spruce and so neat was her Carkas bedrest,
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She wanted no meanes for to set her to sale,
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They likt and were marrid, now marke well the rest.
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She seemd so compleate and so comely of shape,
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That he doted on her more than both the rest.
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She said then sweet husband, be not you dismaid,
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For the truth must be knowne when you see me undrest.
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Two rowes of white teeth she tooke out of her mouth,
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And put em straight into a little round Boxe,
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A Glasse eye likewise she pulld out of her head,
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Which made the man fear that his wife had got knocks
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Her pouldred curld Locks that so faire did appeare,
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Came off with more ease than a new scalded Pigge,
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I wonder her Husband could laughing forbeare,
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When he saw his wife looke like an Ostridge egge.
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Then strait way down stooped this comely sweet Bride,
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Unlact, and ungirded, her neat woodden legge,
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The Bridegroome was like to runne out of his wits,
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For his eyes ner before did behold such a Hagge.
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Then for to revive him, unto him she flung,
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Her Keyes that did lead him to treasure great store,
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This made him to love her, so both went to bed,
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Where he did imbrace her, what would you have more.
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Such luck had this husband to tumble them ore,
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That ere one moneth ended she changed her life.
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A rich wealthy miser invited him home,
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And said, if you please Sir, Ile show you a wife.
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He showd him his Daughter a Girle of fifteene,
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But she would no liking nor favour him show,
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Her friends made the match, & they marrid with speed,
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But she ner endurd him, I tell you but so.
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This young marrid wife to such cunning was grown,
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That she fell a longing his quine for to waste:
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French Kickshaws of ten pound a dish she would have,
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With other deare meats for to fit her fine taste.
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No Physick, no Doctors, no cost did she spare,
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On pride and new fangles she set her delight,
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Her Husband began for to savour of feare,
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And to wish that she ner had beene seene in his sight.
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No love nor no liking this young wife ere had,
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Because she was forct to be wed to her hate,
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He sickned and dyde, and was laid in his grave,
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So she did enjoy his three Widdowes estate.
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A young man that first was this Maidens true love,
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With all expedition they made their dispatch,
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For wedding and bedding they both were agreed,
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And the three widows husband did meet with his match.
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