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EBBA 33132

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
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The Maltster caught in a Trap
Or, The Witty Ale-Wife.
This Ale-wife she was run upon the Maltster's score
Full Twenty pounds for Malt, I think, and more:
But he desir'd a bit of Venus Game,
And I think he paid full dearly for the same:
He made a Discharge I say for once,
And glad he was that he could save his Stones:
He was lamfateed till his bones were sore;
He has made a vow he'l ne'r come there no more;
The Ale-wifes Husband did so belabour him,
That made him stink and piss for very shame.
Tune is, What should a young woman do with an old man: Or, Digbys Farewel.

I Pray you draw near and attend now a while,
Here's a pretty new Ditty will make you to smile;
The truth of the business you need not to fear
Of a notable Jest was done in Harford-shire:
A lusty brave Malt-man in that Country did dwell
That lov'd a fair woman, many people can tell;
But if you'l be pleas'd to attend here and mind,
He was fitted very finely and serv'd in his kind.

A dainty brave Alewife that lived him near,
That bought her Malt of him to brew her strong Beer,
For he was kind hearted; and loving, and free,
But she paid him in's ear, as you plainly shall see:
She was run Twenty pounds for Malt on the score,
But he aimed a Barrel of Baer for to bore;
But he was deceived, he was caught in a snare,
She was too cunning for him now I do swear.

One day he did chance to look for some money,
But for fear he should fail he desir'd some Coney;
The Ale-wife was beautyful and very fair,
And the Malt-man his senses was all on a fire
With seeing sweet Babies in the Ale-wife's eyes,
That Cupid had struck him with a lustfull surprize;
He put forth a question, and did her salute;
She answer'd him honestly with a civil dispute:

For all you'r my Malt-man your sute's all in vain,
I'le ne'r wrong my Conscience my Credit to stain,
That I should defile my own Husbands Bed,
To be such a Whore to set Horns on his Head.
Thou needs not to fear, that will be no disgrace,
There will be no body near us in this place.
She hearing him eager, and so earnestly bent,
Thought she, I will fit him, ile his purpose prevent.

And now she contrives an invention I swear,
To pay him the money, and trap him in a snare
And tells him if he will but stay till next day
He should have his desire to sport and to play:
My Husband tomorrow he will be from home,
And then Sir again (if you please) you may come;
And rest yourself satisfied, and be content,
Keep everything close, and all dangers prevent.

Then the Maltster was pleas'd in the story we find,
He was sweetly contented, it pleased his mind:
He said, ile be a good friend if thou be to me true;
But she was an honest woman I tell unto you:
Then she to her Husband did tell all her mind,
Be ruled by me, and we'l fit him in's kind:
And so then the Ale-wife laid for him a snare,
To make her husband acquainted it was all her care.

Then this Plot was contriv'd with her husbands con-sent
To pay off the Maltster & give him content:
Next day then this Maltster did come to this Dame,
But he was well-rewarded I think for the same:
Her Husband was in ambush, and she on the bed,
And the Maltster fell to embracing & nothing did dread
But before he could his work then begin,
Her husband immediately fell upon him.

What sirrah, do you mean to make a whore of my wife?
Must I be a Cuckold all the days of my life?
And with a good Cudgel he hanged his bones,
And made him believe he would cut out his stones;
So by head and by ears he pull'd him o' th' Floore,
That the Maltster bepist him; he loudly did roar,
All the money you owe me i'le freely forgive,
If you'l save my Life and let me now live.

No sirrah, i'le Geld you and put you to sorrow,
You had enough of your own, you need not to borrow:
O then he did beg on his knees very sore,
If you'l forgive me i'le do so no more.
O now saith the Ale-man i'le do it for once,
Your pittyful begging hath saved your stones;
You say you will quit me all scores very large,
Then take Pen and Paper and write a discharge.

The thing it was done and they quitted the score,
And he turned the Maltster out of the door,
And gave him a charge he should come no more there,
And take for a warning or he shall pay for it dear.
He went sneaking away, and was sorely decoyed,
And paid for the thing that he never injoyed:
And now I intend to let my Pen rest,
E[']ry man with 's own wife, I think that the best.


Printed for P. Brooksby at the ball in Py-Corner.

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