The New German Doctor:
OR,
An Infallible Cure for a Scolding Wife: Performed by this most
Excellent Operator, the like was never known in all Ages.
To the Tune of, Here I love, there I love, or, The English Travellers. Licensed according to Order.
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YOu Men that are married, I pray now attend,
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Good tydings I bring you, this day as a Friend;
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It will be of use to all young Men and old,
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Whoever are troubld with Women that scold.
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A Doctor of late, from the Emperors Court,
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A Person of dextrous Skill by report,
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Hath taken a Chamber in London lof late,
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And cures scolding Wives at a wonderful rate.
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This Doctor has travelld all Poland and Spain,
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And now to Great-Britain he crossed the Main:
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To one Land and Nation hell not be confind,
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But travels the World for the good of mankind.
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That Man that is plagud with a cross scolding Wife,
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Whose railing doth make him quite weary of Life;
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Pray what would he give for an absolute cure,
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Before such a terrible Life hed endure?
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Tis like evry Morning when Day-light appears,
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She rings him a thundring Peal in his Ears;
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And makes him be glad to rouze out of the Bed,
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And all by the violent noise of her Head.
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Sometimes a good Husband may meet with a Friend,
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And happen a penny or two pence to spend;
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Then in comes the Wife, who dos thunder and bawl,
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And with the Quart-flaggon his Noddle doth maul.
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Her Tongue is more keen than a two-edged Sword,
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Nay louder than Thunder she Peals will afford;
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Instead of fond Pleasures, kind Love and Delight,
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She is like a fierce Tygre, both Morning and Night.
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It is an unspeakable Torment I know,
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You cannot imagine what they undergo:
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Who with such cross Women, their Lives now do lead,
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But bring them away to the Doctor with speed.
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Nay let them be never so aged or young,
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This Doctor he takes out the Sting of the Tongue;
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Which is the main Cause of that violent noise,
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And likewise all modest Behaviour destroys.
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A Balsom he has of a moderate price,
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Which takes off the frowns of the Face in a trice,
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And makes her as mild as the innocent Dove,
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And instead of railing, shes all over Love.
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He hath been above seven Weeks in the Town,
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And yet of young Scolds who was given to frown,
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He has curd above Seven hundred indeed:
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And some full as bad as the Billingsgate-Breed.
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Theres one I will mention, livd near Tower-Hill,
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Who would be both fighting and quarrelling still:
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From night to next morning, from morning to noon,
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Her Pipes I must tell you, was always in tune.
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Her Husband he heard of this Doctor of fame,
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Without longer tarry, faith thither he came,
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With she that was calld The invincible Shrow,
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Fast bound in a Basket, for she would not go.
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This Doctor he curd her in less than a Week,
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And made her as modest, as mild, and as meek,
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As any sweet Lady this day in the Land,
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And so he dos all, that he eer takes in hand.
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We hear of some Quacks are for curing of Claps,
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And some other common Diseases, perhaps;
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But when did you hear on our vast British shore,
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Of one that coud cure this Distemper before!
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Whoever is troubld this day with a Scold,
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Altho she be youthful, or fourscore years old,
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Tis all one to him, if the Cure he dont do,
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Hell not have so much as one penny of you.
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Now rather than any that pain shall endure,
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The Poor he for little or nothing will cure;
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All day at his Chamber he is to be found,
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Next Door to the Eels-foot in Sallengers-Round.
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