The Invincible PRIDE of Women: OR, The London Tradesman's Lamentation, For the Prodigality of his Wife, whith doth daily pillage his Purse. To the Tune of the Spinning-Wheel. Licensed according to Order.
|
I Have a Wife, the more's my Care,
|
who like a gaudy Peacock goes,
|
In Top-knots, Patches, Powder'd Hair,
|
besides she is the worst of shrows;
|
This fills my heart with grief and care
|
To think I must this burthen bear.
|
It is her forecast to Contrive,
|
to rise about the hour of Noon,
|
And if she's Trimm'd and Rigg'd by five
|
why this I count is very soon;
|
Then goes she to a Ball or Play
|
To pass the pleasant night away.
|
And when she home returns again,
|
conducted by a Bully Spark,
|
If that I in the least Complain,
|
she does my words and actions mark;
|
And does likewise my Gullet tear,
|
Then Roars like Thunder in the Air.
|
I never had a Groat with her
|
most solemnly I here declare,
|
Yet she's as proud as Lucifer
|
and cannot study what to wear
|
In sumptuous Robes she still appears,
|
While I am forc'd to hide my Ears.
|
The lofty Topknots on her Crown,
|
with which she sails abroad withal,
|
Makes me with Care alas! look down,
|
as having now no hope at all,
|
That ever I shall happy be
|
In such a flaunting Wife as she.
|
In debt with ev'ry Shop shop she runs
|
for to appear in gaudy Pride,
|
And when the Millener she duns,
|
I then am forc'd my Head to hide
|
Dear friends, this proud imperious Wife
|
She makes me weary of my Life.
|
Sometimes with words both kind and mild
|
I let her know my wretched state,
|
For which I streightways am Revil'd:
|
says she, I will appear more Great
|
Than any Merchant's London Dame,
|
Tho' thou art ruin'd for the same.
|
'Tis true she is both fair and young
|
and speaks Italian Greek and Dutch,
|
Besides she hath the scolding Tongue,
|
which is, in faith, a Tongue too much;
|
I dare not speak nor look awry,
|
For fear of her severity.
|
My worldly glory, joy and bliss,
|
is turn'd to sorrow grief and care
|
He that has such a Wife as this
|
needs no more torment I declare;
|
To buy those Trinkets which they lack
|
Both Stock and Credit goes to Rack.
|
There's many more as well as I,
|
in famous London-City fair
|
Whose Wives with Prodigality
|
doth fill their Husbands Hearts with care;
|
I pity those with all my Heart
|
Since I with them do bear a Part.
|
|
|
|
|
|