University of Virginia Library

The Sheep to his Shrew.

I have a Salamander to my Wife,
That cannot live, but in the fire of strife.
And I bear with her Babylonish Lungs,
Born to be the confusion of Tongues.
She chatters hard, but let the Cogs be doing:
There's mony coming when the Mill is going.
I must confess, I thought my self a while
Under the Catarracts, and falls of Nyle,
I was so very deaf, nor do I know,
Whether I perfectly yet, hear, or no.
But the Coin comes, and let her split her Throat,
I would not have her speechless for a groat.
Not I indeed, if for a strain I call
At Midnight, I can hear my Nightingal.
And mid-day too, O Sweet and happy choice!
My Philomel is nothing but a voice.
What my Vexation was before, I vow
Is not my trouble, but diversion now.
When I perceive the House too hot an harbour,
I out of Doors, and cool me in an Arbour.
I trace it swiftly up and down my Grounds,
And fancy, I am following my Hounds.
Or, if a chearly Sun does gild my Trees,
Methinks, I then am hiving of my Bees.
On then (my Dear) and let thy clappers be walking,
Hang such a Parrot, as is tyr'd with talking.
That Miller is a Coxcomb, sure I am,
That is offended at the noise of's dam.
But 'tis no noise to me, I sweetly dream,
By the soft murmurs of that purling stream.
I am all Complacence, what! if she lower?
The Meat's the sweeter, 'cause the sauce is sower.
Thus Fire and Water, Earth and Air agree,
And from her discord flowes my Harmony.
Some are for Crystal Rivers only, Pish!
No Water troubles me, that brings me Fish.
Man is a mass of various mould, I'm here
(As I am contradicted) in my Sphere.
In this the method, somewhat is controll'd,
For here the Woman's hot, and the Man cold.
And here's all the occasion is between us,
Least Bacchus in Cups should meet with Venus.