A CHOICE
PENNYWORTH of WIT.
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HEre is a Pennyworth of Wit,
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For those that ever went astray,
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If Warning they will take by it.
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It will do them Good another Day.
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It is a Touchstone of true Love
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Betwixt a Harlot and a Wife,
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The former doth destructive prove,
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The latter yields the Joy of Life.
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As in this Sheet you may behold,
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Put forth by one William Lane.
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A wealthy Merchant brave and bold,
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Who long a Harlot did maintain
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Altho' a virtuous Wife he had,
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Likewise a handsome Daughter dear,
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Which might make his Heart right glad.
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Yet them he seldom did come near.
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The Traffick which he traded for,
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On the tempestuous Ocean wide,
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His Harlot had it brought to her,
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But nothing to his loving Bride.
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So the best Silks as could be bought,
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Nay Rubies, Jewels, Diamonds, Rings,
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He to his wanton Harlot brought,
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With many other costly Things.
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She still receiv'd him with a Smile,
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When he came from the roaring Seas.
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And said with Words as smooth as Oil.
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My Jewel come and take thy Ease.
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Unto the Bed and Linnen fine,
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You are right welcome, Love, said she,
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Both I and all that here is mine
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Must yet at thy Devotion be.
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Bringing two hundred Pounds in Gold,
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And after that three hundred more,
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Rich Chains and Jewels manifold.
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Bidding her lay them up in store.
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Yes, that I will thou needst not fear,
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Embracing him with a kind Kiss,
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So took the Wealth, crying my Dear,
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I'll take a special Care of this.
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So they did banquet many a Day,
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Feasting upon delicious Fare:
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For with her false deluding Tongue
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She drew him in a fatal Snare.
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When he had liv'd some time on Shore.
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He must go to the Seas again.
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With Musick to increase his Store,
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His wanton Harlot to maintain.
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To whom he said, my Joy my Dear,
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What Venture will you with me send.
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A good Return you need not fear,
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I'll be both Factor, and a Friend.
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In Goods my Dear now will I send
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Fifty Pounds with thee on board,
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I know that unto me my Dear
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A treble Gain you will afford.
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Next Day unto his Wife he goes,
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And ask'd her in a scornful wise,
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What Venture she did then propose
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To send by him for Merchandize.
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I'll send a Penny, Love, by thee,
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Be sure you take good Care of it:
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When you're in distant Parts, said she,
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Pray buy a Pennyworth of Wit.
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She put the Penny in his Hand,
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Crying, pray don't forget;
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When you are in another Land,
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To buy a Pennyworth of Wit.
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Putting the Penny up secure,
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Cries he, I'll take great Care
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To lay it out you may be sure,
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So to his Miss he did repair,
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And told her what he had to buy,
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When she laugh'd her to Scorn.
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On Board he went immediately,
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Unto the Sea that very Morn.
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THIS being done, with merry Heart
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The Merchant and his jovial Crew,
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From Port to Port in foreign Parts,
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Did trade as they were wont to do.
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Now at length having bestow'd
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The Cargo that was ourward bound,
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He did the trading Vessel load,
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With rsch Treasure that he found.
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As he his Merchandize then sent,
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It turn'd to Gems and Golden Ore,
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Which crown'd his labour with Delight,
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He never was so rich before.
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The wanton Harlot's Adventure,
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Did turn to vast Account likewise,
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For every Pound she would have ten,
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Such was the lucky Merchandize.
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For Joy of which the Merchant said,
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One jovial Bout my Boys must have
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One splendid Supper I'll provide
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Of all the Dainties we can have.
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Before we set to Sea again,
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Which said they to a Tavern went,
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Where they did drink and feast amain,
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Until Crowns and Pounds were spent.
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The Merchant by Laughter mov'd,
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Said, he for Wit had never sought,
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My Harlot's Venture is improv'd,
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But of my Wife's I never thought.
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One single Penny and no more,
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She as a Venture sent by me.
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Alas! to lay it out therefore
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In what I think a Rarity.
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She bid me use my utmost Skill,
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To buy a Pennyworth of Wit,
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But I have kept the Penny still,
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And never once did think of it.
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Where shall I go to lay it out?
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True Wit is hard and scarce to find,
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But come my Lads let's drink about,
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My Wife's Venture I'll not mind.
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There is a Proverb often us'd,
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Wit's never good till bought full dear,
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Wherefore I well may be excus'd,
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There's little for a Penny here.
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An aged Father sitting by
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Whose venerable Looks were gray,
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Strait made the Merchant this Reply.
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Hear me a Word or two I pray,
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The Harlot in Prosperity,
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She will embrace thee for thy Gold,
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But when in want and Poverty,
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You shall nought but Frowns behold.
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And ready to betray thy Life,
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When naked, poor, mean and low,
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But thy true hearted loving Wife
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Will stand by thee in Weal and Woe.
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If thou would prove the Truth of this,
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Strip off [t]hy gaudy rich Array,
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And so go back to thy lewd Miss,
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Declare that thou wast cast away.
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Your Riches buried in the Main,
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Besides as you past through a Wood.
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One of your Servants you had slain,
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For which your Life in Danger stood.
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Beseech her for to shelter thee,
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Declare on her you do depend.
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And then alas! too soon you'll see
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How far she'll prove your honest Friend.
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Then if she frowns, go to your Wife,
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Shew her your melancholy Theme.
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Who strives the most to save thy Life,
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Let her be most in thy Esteem.
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Father, the Merchant then reply'd,
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You must this single Penny take,
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And when I've pass'd the Ocean wide,
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A Proof of this I mean to make.
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So loving Friend, for ought I know,
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I may this single Penny prize,
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It may be the best I do bestow
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In my fine wealthy Merchandsze.
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So taking Leave, away they went,
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Both he and his fine Hearts of Gold,
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Unto them he said, I must pruve the same.
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When I my native Land behold.
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WIth full-spread Sails to Sea they went,
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Neptune, the Golden Cargo bore,
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Thro' roaring Waves to their Content,
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At last they reach'd the British Shore.
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The Merchant put on poor Array,
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The very worst of ragged Cloaths.
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And then without the least Delay,
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Unto his wanton Harlot goes.
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When she beheld him in Distress,
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She said what is the Matter now?
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Said he, I'm poor and Pennyless,
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And then he made a courteous Bow.
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Saying, no Man was e'er so crost,
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As I have been, my Soul's Delight,
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My Ship and all the Cargo's lost,
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And now I'm ruin'd quite.
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My Loss is great, yet that's not all.
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One of my Servants I have slain:
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As we did both at Variance fall,
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Some Shelter let me here obtain.
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I dare not go unto my Wife
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Whom I have wrong'd so many Years,
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Into your Hands I've put my Life,
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Take pity on my moving Tears.
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You bloody Villain she reply'd,
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Don't the least on me depend,
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Be gone, or as I live she said,
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I for an Officer will send.
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I'll give you neither Meat nor Drink,
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Nor any shelter shall you have,
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Of nasty filthy Rags you stink,
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Be gone, you base and cruel Knave.
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Don't think I can your Counsel keep,
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Or shelter any such as you:
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He turn'd about and seem'd to weep,
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And bid the wanton Whore adieu.
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Then to his loving Wife he came,
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Both poor and naked in Distress,
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He told to her the very same,
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Yet she reliev'd him ne[']ertheless.
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My Dear, said she, since it is so,
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Take Comfort in thy loving Wife.
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All that I have shall freely go,
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To gain a Pardon for thy Life.
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I'll lodge thee in a Place secure,
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Where I will daily nourish thee,
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Believe me Love thou may'st be sure,
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To find a constant Friend in me.
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When he this parfect Proof had made,
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Which of them two did Love him best,
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Unto his virtuous Wife he said,
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My Jewel set thy Heart at Rest.
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Behold no Servant have I slain,
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Nor have I suffer'd any Loss,
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Enough I have us to maintain,
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The Ocean Seas no more I'll cross.
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My laden Ship lies near the Shore,
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With Gold and Jewels richly fraught,
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So much I never had before,
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Thy Pennyworth of Wit I've bought.
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Once more unto his Harlot goes,
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With fourteen Sailors brave and bold,
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Cloathed in new and costly Robes,
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Of Silk and rich embroider'd Gold.
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The Miss when she his Pomp beheld,
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Did offer him a kind Embrace
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But he with Wrath and Anger fill'd,
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Did strait upbraid her in her Face.
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But she with Smiles these Words exprest,
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I have a constant Love for thee:
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And what I said, was but in Jest,
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Why did you run so fast from me?
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Time to go, as I am told,
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You have another Love in Store,
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Whom you have furnish'd with my Gold,
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And Jewels which I brought on Shore.
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false, she said, I have them all,
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With that the Merchant then reply'd,
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Bring them to me, aad then I shall
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Be soon convinc'd and satisfy'd.
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Then up she run and brought them down,
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His Jewels and Diamonds bright,
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He seiz'd them all, and with a Frown,
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He bid the wanton Jilt Good-Night.
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When he had took the Golden Prize,
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And swept up every precious Stone,
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She said, what will you rob me thus?
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Yes that I will, of what's my own.
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You wanted to betray my Life,
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But thanks to God there's no such Fear,
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These Jewels shall adorn my Wife.
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Henceforth your House I'll not come near.
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Home he returned to his Wife,
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And told her all that he had done.
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E'er since they lead a happy Life,
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He does no more to Harlots run.
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Thus he the wanton Harlot bit,
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That long had his Destruction sought,
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This is a Pennyworth of Wit.
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The best that ever Merchant bought.
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