A Choice Pennyworth of WI
OR,
A clear Distinction between a Virtuous Wife and a Wanton
Harlot.
|
HERE is a pennyworth of Wit,
|
For those that e[v]er went astray,
|
If warning they will take by it,
|
'Twill do them good another day.
|
It is the touchstone of true love,
|
Between a Harlot and a wife;
|
The former does destructive prove,
|
The latter yields the joys of life.
|
As in this book you may behold,
|
Set forth by William Lane,
|
A wealthy merchant breve and bold
|
Who did a harlot long maintain.
|
Although a virtuous wife he had,
|
Likewise a youthful daughter dear,
|
Which might have made his heart full glad
|
Yet them he never would come near
|
The traffic which he traded for,
|
On the tempestuous ocean wide,
|
His harlot had it brought to her,
|
But nothing to his virtuou[s] wife.
|
The finest silk that could be bought
|
Nay jewels, rubies diamond rings,
|
He to his wanton harlot brought
|
With many other costly things
|
She'd still receive him with a smile,
|
When he came from the roaring sea
|
And said, with words as smoo[t]h as oil,
|
My dearest come and take your ease,
|
To my soft bed and linnen fine,
|
Thou art right welcome love said she,
|
Both I and all that e'er is mine.
|
Shall still at thy devotion be
|
He brought two hundred pounds in gold
|
And after that three hundred more,
|
With chains and jewels manifold,
|
And bid her lay them up in store.
|
Love. that I will thou need'st not fear,
|
And so embraced with kiss;
|
She took the wealth, and said my dear,
|
I'll take a speeial care of this.
|
So they did banquet many days,
|
Living upon delicious cheer;
|
Till by her false deluding ways
|
She drew him in a fatal snare.
|
When he had liv'd some time on shore,
|
Then he must to the seas again,
|
With traffic to increase his store,
|
The wanton harlot to maintain.
|
To whom he said my joy, my dear,
|
With me what venture will you send;
|
A good return you need not fear,
|
I'll be your factor and your friend.
|
In goods my dear I'll sebd above
|
[T]en pounds which you shall take on boar[d]
|
I know that unto me my love,
|
A treble gain thou wilt afford,
|
This said, next to his wife he goes,
|
And ask'd her in a scornful wise,
|
What venture then she did propose,
|
To send by him for merchandize.
|
I'll send a penny love by thee,
|
(Be sure you take grea[t] care of it)
|
When you are in forreign parts said she,
|
To buy a penny worth of wit.
|
She laid the penny in his hand,
|
And said' pray now dont forget,
|
When you are in a forreign land,
|
To but a penny worth of wit-
|
He put the penny up secure
|
And said I'll take a special care,
|
To lay it out you may be sure
|
[S]o to his miss he did repair,
|
And told what he had to buy,
|
At which he laugh'd his wife to scorn,
|
On board he went immediately,
|
And so to sea that very morn.
|
Now they are gone with merry hearts,
|
The merchant and his jovial crew,
|
From port to port in forreign parts,
|
To trade, as they we[r]e wont to do.
|
At last when they had well bestow'd,
|
The cargo which was outward bound,
|
They did their trading vessel load,
|
With richer treasure which they found.
|
As he his merchandize did vent
|
He turn'd all to Gems and golden ore,
|
Which crown[']d his labours with content,
|
He never was so rich before.
|
The wanton harlot's venture then
|
Did turn to great account likewise,
|
For every pound she would have ten,
|
Such was their lucky merchandize:
|
For joy of which the merchant cry'd,
|
One merry bout my lads shall have,
|
A splendid supper I'll provide,
|
Of all the dainties you can crave.
|
Before we put to sea again,
|
[T]his said, they to a tavern went,
|
[W]here they did eat and drink amain,
|
[T]ill many crowns & pounds were spent.
|
The merchant then with laughter movd
|
[Sa]id he for wit had never fought;
|
My harlot's venture is improv'd,
|
[Bu]t of my wife's I never thought.
|
One single pcney and no more,
|
[S]he has a venture sent by me,
|
[I] was to lay it out therefore,
|
[In] what you call a rarity.
|
She bid me use my utmost skill,
|
[T]o buy a penny worth of wit?
|
[B]ut I have kept the penny still,
|
[A]nd ne[']er so much as thought of it.
|
Where shall I go to lay it out,
|
[S]ince wit is hard and scarce to find:
|
[B]ut come my lads, and drink about,
|
My wife's small venture I'll not mind.
|
There is a proverb often us'd,
|
That wit[']s not good till bought full dear,
|
Wheeefore I may be well excus'd,
|
There's little for a penny here.
|
An aged father sitting by.
|
Whose venerable locks were grey,
|
Strait made the merchant this reply:
|
Hear me a word or two I pray.
|
The harlot in prosperity,
|
Will then embrace you for your gold,
|
But when in want and poverty,
|
You'll naught from her but frowns behold
|
And ready to betray thy life
|
When naked, wretched, poor and low,
|
But thy true hearted faithful wife,
|
Will stand by thee in wealth or woe.
|
If thou wilt prove the truth of this
|
Strip off thy gaudy rich array,
|
And to return to your lewd miss,
|
Declare that you was cast away.
|
Your riches bury'd in the main,
|
Reside as you passed through a wood,
|
One of your servants you had slain;
|
For which your life in danger stood.
|
Beseech her for to shelter thee;
|
Tell her on her you do depend,
|
And then alas! you soon will see,
|
How far she'll prove a faithful friend.
|
Then if she frowns, go to thy wife,
|
Tell her this melancholy theme:
|
Who labours most to sove thy life,
|
Let her be most in thy esteem.
|
Father, the Merchant then reply'd,
|
You must this single penny take;
|
And when I've past the ocean wide,
|
A proof of this I mean to make.
|
And loving friends, for ought I know
|
I may thls single penny prize,
|
The best I ever did bestow
|
In all my wealthy merchandize.
|
Taking his leave away he went,
|
Both he and his brave hearts of gold,
|
To whom he said I'll prove the same,
|
When I my native land behold
|
With full spread sails to sea they went,
|
Neptune the golden cargo bore
|
O'er foaming waves, to their content:
|
At length they reach[']d the British shore.
|
The merchant put on poor array,
|
The very worst of ragged cloaths;
|
And then without the least delay,
|
He to the wanton harlot goes
|
When she beheld him in distress,
|
She ery'd, what is the matter now?
|
Said he, I'm poor and pennyless
|
With that he made a courteous bow
|
Crying snre man was ne[']er so crost
|
As I have been my heart's deligtt;
|
My ship and all my cargo's lost,
|
Without your aid I'm ruin'd quite.
|
My loss is great yet that's not all,
|
One of my servants I have slain,
|
As we did both at varance fall;
|
Some shelter let me here obtain.
|
I dare not go unto my wife,
|
Whom I have wronged many years;
|
Into thy hands I put my life,
|
Take pity of my melting tears.
|
You bloody villain she reply'd.
|
Don't in the least on me depend;
|
Be gone or as I live she cry'd,
|
I for an officer will send
|
I'll neither give you bread nor drink
|
Nor any shelter shall you have:
|
Of nasty lousy rags you stink,
|
Be gone you base perfidious slave.
|
Dont think that I'll your counsel keep
|
Or harbour any such as you,
|
With that be turn'd & seem'd to weep
|
And bid the wanton jilt adieu,
|
Then to his loving wife he goes
|
Both poor and naked, in distress,
|
He told her all the very same,
|
Yet she receiv'd him nevertheless.
|
My dear said she since it is so,
|
Take comfort in thy loving wife;
|
All that I have shall freely go,
|
To gain a pardon for thy life:
|
I'll lodge thee in a place secure,
|
Where I will daily nourish thee,
|
Believe me love thou may[']st be sure
|
To find a faithful friend in me.
|
When he this perfect proof had made
|
Which of the two did love him best,
|
Unto his virtuous wife he said,
|
My jewel set your heart at rest.
|
Behold no servant have I slain,
|
Nor have I suffered any loss,
|
Enough I have us to maintain;
|
The ocean seas no more I'll cross,
|
My loaded ship lies near the shore,
|
With gold and jewels richly fraught,
|
So much I never had before?
|
Thy penny worth of wit I've bought.
|
Once more he to his harlot goes,
|
With fourteen sailors brave and boid,
|
All cloath[']d in new and costly cloaths,
|
Of silks and rich embroidered gold.
|
The miss, when she his pomp beheld
|
Did offer him a kind embrace?
|
But he with wrath and anger fill'd,
|
Did strait upbraid her to her face.
|
But she with smiles these words exprest,
|
I have a faithful love for thee,
|
Whate[']er I said was but in jest;
|
Why didst thou go so soon from me.
|
Twas time to go for as I'm told,
|
You have another love in store,
|
Whom you have furnish'd with my gold,
|
And jewels which I brought on shore.
|
Tis false she cry'd I have them all.
|
Wirh that the merchant then reply'd,
|
Lay them before me and I shall
|
Be soon convinc'd and satisfy'd
|
Then up she run & fetch'd them down,
|
His jewels gold and diamonds bright;
|
He seiz'd them all, then with frown
|
He bid the wanton jilt good night
|
When he had took the golden purse,
|
And swept up every precious stone
|
She cry'd what will you rob me then?
|
Yes, that I will of what's my own.
|
You wanted to betray my life,
|
But thanks to God there's no such fear?
|
These jewels shall adorn my wife,
|
Henceforth your house I'll not come near
|
Home he returned to his wife,
|
And told her all that he had done,
|
E[']er since they lead a quiet Life,
|
And he no more to harlots run.
|
Thus he the wanton harlot bit,
|
Who long had his destruction sought.
|
This was the penny worth of wit
|
The best that ever merchant bought.
|
|
|
|
|
|