A merry Dialogue betwixt a married man and his wife
concerning the affaires of this carefull life.
To an excellent Tune.
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I Have for all good wives a Song,
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I doe lament the womens wrong,
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And I doe pitty them with my heart,
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to thinke upon the womens smart,
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Their labours great and full of paine,
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yet for the same they have small gaine.
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In that you say cannot be true,
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for men doe take more paines then you,
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We toyle, we moyle, we grieve and care,
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when you sit on a stoole or chaire,
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Yet let us doe all what we can,
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your tongues will get the upper hand.
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We women in the morning rise,
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as soone as day breakes in the skies,
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And then to please you with desire,
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the first we doe, is, make a fire,
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Then other worke we straight begin,
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to sweepe the house to card, or spin,
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Why men doe worke at Plough and Cart,
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which soone would break a womans hart
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They sow, they mow, and reape the corne,
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and many times doe weare the horne,
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In praise of wives speake you no more,
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for these were lies you told before.
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We women here doe beare the blame,
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but men would seeme to have the same:
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But trust me I will never yeeld,
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my tongue's my owne, I thereon build,
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Men may not in this case compare,
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with women for their toyle and care.
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Fie, idle women, how you prate,
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tis men that gets you all your state,
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You know tis true in what I say,
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therefore you must give men the way,
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And not presume to grow too hie,
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your speeches are not worth a flye.
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You men could not tell how to shift,
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if you of women were bereft,
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We wash your cloathes, and dresse your diet
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and all to keepe your minds in quiet
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Our works not done at morne nor night,
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to pleasure men is our delight.
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Women are called a house of care;
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they bring poore men unto despaire,
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That man is blest that hath not bin,
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inlured by a womans sin,
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They'l cause a man if heele give way,
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to bring him to his lives decay.
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The second part. To the same tune.
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If we poore women were as bad,
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as men report being drunke or mad,
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We might compare with many men,
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and count our selves as bad as them,
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Some oft are drunke and beat their wives
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and make them weary of their lives.
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Why women they must rule their tonges,
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that brings them to so many wrongs,
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Sometimes their husbands to disgrace,
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they'l call him knave and rogue to's face,
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Nay, worse then that, they'l tell him plaine
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his will he shall not well obtaine.
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We women in childbed take great care,
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I hope the like sorrow wil fal to your share
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Then would you thinke of womens smart,
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and seeme to pitty them with your heart
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So many things to us belong,
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we oftentimes doe suffer wrong.
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Though you in childbid bide some paine,
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your Babes tendes your joyes againe,
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Your Gossips comes unto your joy,
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and sayes, God blesse your little Boy,
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They say the child is like the Dad,
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when he but little share in't had.
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You talke like an Asse you are a Cockoldly foole,
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Ile break your head with a 3 legd stoole
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Will you poore Women thus abuse,
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our tongues and hands we need to use.
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You say our tongues doe make men fight,
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our hands must serve to doe us right
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Then I to you must give the way,
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and yeeld to women in what they say,
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All you that are to chuse a wife,
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be carefull of it as your life,
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You see that women will not yeeld,
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in anything to be compeld.
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You Maides I speake the like to you,
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there's many dangers doe ensue:
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But howsoever fortunes serve,
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see that my rules you doe observe.
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If men once have the upper hand,
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they'l keepe you downe do what you can.
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I will not seeme to urge no more,
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good wives what I did say before,
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Was for your good, and so it take,
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I love all women for my wives sake.
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And I pray you when you are sick and die
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call at my house and take my wife wye.
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Well, come sweet heart, let us agree:
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content sweet wife, so let it be,
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Where man and wife doe live at hate,
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the curse of God hangs ore the gate.
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But I will love thee as my life,
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as ever man should love his wife,
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