My Wife will be my Master:
Or, The Married-mans Complaint against his unruly Wife.
The Tune is, A Taylor is a man.
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AS I was walking forth of late,
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I heard a man complaining,
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With that I drew me near to him,
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to know the cause and meaning
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Of this his sorrow pain and grief,
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which bred him such disaster;
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Alas, quoth he, what shall I do,
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my wife will be my master:
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But if ever I am a Widdower,
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and another wife do marry,
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I mean to keep her poor and bare,
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and the purse I mean to carry.
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If I should give her forty pound,
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within her apron folding,
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No longer then she's telling ont,
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her tongue would ne'r leave scolding
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As Esops Dog barkt at the Moon
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thinking tor to distast her,
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So doth my wife scold without cause,
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and strives to be my Master;
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But if ever, etc.
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Were I so strong as Hercules,
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or wiser then Apollo,
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Or had I Icarus wings to flye,
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my wife would after follow.
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Or should I live as many years,
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as ever did King Nestor,
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Yet I do greatly stand in fear,
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my wife would be my Master.
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But if ever, etc.
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I know no cause nor reason why,
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that she with me should jangle,
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I never gave her cause at all,
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to make her with me wrangle:
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I please her still in what I may,
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and do no jot distast her,
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Yet she doth strive both night and day,
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always to be my Master:
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But if ever I am a Widdower,
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and another wife do marry,
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I mean to keep her poor and bare,
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and the purse I mean to carry.
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I Every morning make a fire,
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all which is done to ease her,
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I get a Nut-meg, make a toast,
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in hope therewith to please her:
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Of a Cup of nappy ale and spice,
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of which she is first taster,
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And yet this cros-grain'd quean will scold,
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and strive to be my master.
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But if ever, etc.
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I wash the dishes, sweep the house,
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I dress her wholsome dyet,
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I humour her in every thing,
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because I would be quiet:
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Of every several dish of meat,
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she'l surely be first taster,
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And I am glad to pick the bones,
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she is so much my master:
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But if ever, etc.
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Sometimes she'l sit while day gives light,
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in company with good fellows,
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In Taverns and in bowling Kens,
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or in some pimping Ale-house;
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And when she comes home drunk at night,
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though I do not distast her,
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She'l fling, she'l throw, she'l scratch and bite,
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and strive to be my Master:
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But if ever, etc.
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Her bed I make both soft and fine,
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and put on smock compleatly,
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Her shooes and stockings I pull off,
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and lay her down most neatly:
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I cover her and keep her warm
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for fear I should distast her,
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I hug her kindly in my arms,
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yet still She'l be my Master,
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[But if] ever, etc.
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And when I am with her in bed,
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she doth not use me well sir,
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She'l wring my nose, and pull my ears,
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a pittiful case to tell sir:
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And when I am with her in bed,
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not meaning to molest her,
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She'l kick me out at the bedsfeet,
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and so become my master:
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But if ever, etc.
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And thus you hear how cruelly
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my wife doth still abuse me;
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At bed at board at noon and night
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she always doth misuse me:
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But if I were a lusty Man,
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and able for to baste her,
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Then would I surely use some means,
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that she should not be my master.
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But if I were, etc.
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You Batchelors that sweet-hearts have,
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when as you are a Wooing,
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Be sure you look before you leap,
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for fear of your undoing,
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The after wit is not the best,
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and he that weds in hast sir,
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May like to me, bewail his case:
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if his wife do prove his Master,
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But if ever, etc.
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You Married Men that have good wives,
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I wish you deal well by them,
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For they more precious are then Gold,
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if once you come to try them:
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A good wife makes a husband glad,
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then let him not distast her,
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But a scold will make a Man run mad;
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if once she proves his Master,
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But if ever, etc.
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