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The Poetical Entertainer

Or, Tales, Satyrs, Dialogues, And Intrigues, &c. Serious and Comical. All digested into such Verse as most agreeable to the several Subjects. To be publish'd as often as occasion shall offer [by Edward Ward]

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The Cuckoldy Yeoman:
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The Cuckoldy Yeoman:

OR, The Adulteress's Visit to her dead Gallant.

A wealthy Yeoman of Renown,
Residing in a Country Town,
Had chosen for his Wife a Woman
Whose Lust had made her Tail too common;
Among the rest of her Gallants,
That satisfy'd her Female Wants,
She had a strong-back'd Bully-Blade,
Cut out for riding such a Jade,
Who, by his Nonsence and his Noise,
Jack-pudding Tricks and am'rous Toys,

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And other things we must not Name,
So pleas'd the Cockles of the Dame,
That him the Dowdy fancy'd best,
And kiss'd much oftner than the rest.
From whence it justly may be noted,
That Wantons, to their Lust devoted,
Chuse Fellows by their Backs, not Brains,
To pleasure their Concupiscence.
At length, by Revelling and Ranting,
Horse-racing, Tipling, and Gallanting,
Thackum, for by that Name alone
The blust'ring Blade was chiefly known,
Had brought himself so very low
In Pocket, that the Country Beau
Was forc'd to hang upon the Skirt
Of her with whom he us'd to Sport,
And live like that salacious Louse
That plagues the Fair, and sticks so close,
In lushious Parts criniferous.

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Nor had she any way to succour
The craving Hand that us'd to stroke her,
But by those Sleights which all such Hussies
Will practise that Cornute their Spouses.
The Key could not be left a Minute
In the old Chest, but she was in it:
No Money could his Pockets keep,
Them she examin'd in his Sleep;
And now and then a silver Spoon,
Or Thimble, would be strangely gone;
Which Rob'ry, to be sure, was laid
Upon the guiltless Man or Maid;
Or some poor Gammar who, at Door,
Had beg'd Skim-milk but just before.
By such collusive Arts as these
She fed her Spark, till, by degrees,
She'd made away with e'ery thing,
That would the ready-Peny bring
And that by Day or Night could be
Remov'd without Discovery;

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Which shews what kind intriguing Dames
Will do for those that feed their Flames,
And how they'll knock things out of Joint,
At home, to gain a ticklish Point.
For Lust, alas, admits no Bridle,
There's no Discretion in the middle,
Where things will dance without a Fiddle.
The Wanton much concern'd to find
That she could be no longer kind
To her dear Thackum, now was forc'd,
In short, to let him know the worst,
Telling him, tho' she lov'd him dearly,
And would oblige him late or early,
She'd not a Peny left to give him,
Or any Present to relieve him,
Besides those Favours which he knew
He always should be welcome to.
Marry, quoth Thackum, in a bluster,
Without the Pence no Pater-noster.

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Adding, Large goings out, my dear,
You know, large comings in require;
Money buys Wine that makes as glad,
Without, no Pleasure's to be had.
For if you once withhold your Purse
My am'rous Courage flags in course.
After they had a while reflected
On their past Pleasures, much dejected
To think that Want should put an end
To Love, and sep'rate Friend from Friend,
Young Thackum and his dear departed,
In mutual Grief, half broken hearted;
The Dame lamenting for the loss
Of what she'd often hug'd so close.
The Spark, now left without Provision,
As much concern'd at his Condition,
Who was of all support bereft,
And to the greatest hardships left.
Thus pleasures gain'd by Usurpation,
Have soon a sorrowful Cessation,

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And e'ery sweet bewitching Vice,
Leaves Stings proportion'd to their Joys.
Thackum, who'd been of late so jolly,
Now felt the smart of all his Folly,
And bit so hard upon the Bridle,
That he could live no longer idle;
Therefore resolv'd, whate'er came on't,
By Robb'ry to relieve his Want.
Accordingly he rode abroad,
To try his Fortune on the Road,
Flushing himself in divers places,
With very notable Successes.
That now his Pockets b'ing replenish'd,
And his late fear of Starving vanish'd,
He soon renew'd his am'rous League,
And carry'd on his old intrigue,
Wanting no Money to support
Th'Expence of meeting with his Flirt,
That now they revell'd up and down
In this and 'tother Country-Town,

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As oft as the Adult'rous Blowze
Could feign a Lye to cheat her Spouse:
But as such sweet delights at last,
Are always bitter to the tast,
Thackum, who'd gone a step too far,
And kill'd a noted Traveller,
As well as rob'd him, was pursu'd
By Clowns, and taken in a Wood,
Carr'd, Coram nobis, and committed
To Prison, where he lay unpity'd;
Till try'd, the next Assize, before
Judge Graybeard, and a dozen more,
And when convicted by his Betters,
Was sentenc'd to be hang'd in Fetters,
Which, on the next Fish-day, in presence
of Hundreds, was perform'd with decence,
Whilst many Gammars in the Crowd
Held up their Hands and cry'd aloud

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'Twas pity such a clever smug
Well-looking Fellow, tho' a Rogue,
Should be tuck'd up, so like a Dog;
But all the sorrow that they shew'd,
Did dying Thackum little good,
For there, as soon as he had sung
His penetential Psalm, he swung,
And hung to scare the Crows away
From the Corn-Fields that round him lay,
And to deter the Country Gaffers
From ploughing with their Neighbours Heifers.
Thus wanton Women, we may see,
Bring foolish Men to Poverty,
And Poverty, for want of Grace,
Still prompts them to be further base.
When Thackum thus had made his End,
And left his old Adult'rous Friend
To mourn the loss of her Gallant,
Who us'd to ease her greatest Want,

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The Dame, who did not dare to pay
A Visit, all the time he lay
Fetter'd i'th' County Jayl, because
The Jaylor knew whose Wife she was,
Grew much concern'd that she had been
So slighting to the best of Men.
For Wantons measure humane goodness,
Not by Mens Vertues but their Lewdness:
Therefore, since she had prov'd ungrateful
To him who'd always been so faithful,
She now resolv'd, one Night or other,
To steal out to her pendant Lover,
Hoping a Visit to her dead
Gallant, affectionately paid,
Might so attone for her remisness,
As to remove her great uneas'ness;
Accordingly, one Ev'ning dark,
She Journey'd tow'rds her hanging Spark,
Who'd taken up his lofty Station,
A Mile without the Corporation,

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Fearing, should she attempt the same
By Day, 'twould scandalize her Name;
Therefore she staid till friendly Night
Had just o'ercome the fading Light,
And then, like any Buxom Lass
In hopes of stealing an Embrace,
She jog'd along with all her pow'r,
As if each Minute seem'd an Hour.
As she was thus approaching near
Her elevated dangling Dear,
A drunken Tinker, who, by chance,
In nappy Ale had drown'd his Brains,
Beneath a Hedge was laid along,
Close by the Gib where Thackum hung,
That a cool Sleep upon his Fuddle,
Might soberize his dizzy Noddle;
And having, for some time, been taking
A hearty Nap, was just awaking
As Madam made a stop, to stare
At her dear Lover in the Air;

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She seeming very much dismay'd
To see him hanging o'er her Head,
Began with Tears, and, for a while,
Cry'd like a Crocodile of Nile;
At length her sobbing Silence broke,
And thus to the Cadaver spoke:
O wretched Eyes! O dismal Night,
That shews me this unhappy Sight!
O faithless Woman I! to fail
Of comforting thy heart in Jayl,
When thou, to me, wouldst often spare
Much more than was one Woman's share,
And must I now, my only Dear,
Go back and leave thee swinging here.?
“No, quoth the Tinker, let's not part,
“I'll with thee gang, with all my Heart.
Th'Adultress hearing this reply,
And seeing none but Thackum nigh,
Thought 'twas an Answer from her Lover,
And run as if the Devil drove her,

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Believing he was coming down
To hand her back into the Town;
The Tinker rising, hobbl'd after
As fast as e'er he could for Laughter,
And teasing Corns, that made him tread
Too cautious for a Man of speed,
Crying, Good Honey slack your pace,
You scowre as if you run a Race,
I am too stiff for such a course.
Nouns, you are swifter than a Horse.
But nothing would abate her Vigour,
For still she gallop'd like a Tyger,
Conceiting, all the way she fled,
'Twas Thackum, tho' she saw him dead,
The rather, 'cause she heard a clinking
O'th' Tinker's Tools, which, to her thinking,
Were the loose Irons, Chains and Fetters,
About the dearest of her Creatures;
Therefore she did the faster trudg it,
At e'ery rattling of the Budget:

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Nor could she, by her looking back,
Discover more than something black,
Which undistinguishable sight,
At e'ery gaze, encreas'd her Fright,
And made her trespass upon Nature,
The more, to make their distance greater,
Till she, at length, recover'd home,
Where the poor Cuckold, in a Room,
In solitude had perch'd his Crupper,
On a tall Buffet Stool, at Supper,
But in run frighted Blowzabel,
Expecting Thackum at her Tail,
And tumbl'd down the greasy Eggs
And Bacon, 'twixt her Husband's Leggs,
Dreading sad usage, shame, or slaughter,
From him she fear'd was coming a'ter;
Therefore, to make herself securer,
Blunder'd o'er all that stood before her,
Crying, Dear Husband fight and save me,
Or Thackum, tho' he's hang'd, will have me.

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Which so amaz'd her 'Spouse, that he
Was frighted full as bad as she.
But her Friend Thackum never came,
As was expected by the Dame;
For when the Tinker saw her Hous'd,
He went to th'Alehouse and carous'd,
There made the merry Story known,
From whence 'twas bruited up and down,
Till the Adult'rous Jilt became
A common Town-talk, to her shame.

Moral.

Tho' many act an odious part,
In hopes to hide their sins by Art,
Yet humane Craft no Guilt can smother,
'Twill come to light some way or other.