The Knave of Harts :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thou roguish Slaue, where hast thou staid so long?
To bring no answere home till Candle-light.
In sadnesse Wife, you doe your Husband wrong:
For I haue made the greatest hast I might.
Rascall, thou lyest, what hast thou beene about?
Tell me the truth, or I will beate it out.

Wife, hold your hand, and do but heare me speake.
You sent me to the Doctors with your pisse,
And by the way, the Vrinall did breake,
So euer since I haue beene buying this:
And here's another, pray you leake againe,
And Ile to morrow, take some further paine.

Out filthy villaine, hast thou seru'd me so?
Shall I want Doctors Physicke when I send?
My inward griefe (base Gull) thou dost not know,
Pray Wife, haue patience, if I did offend:
I haue beene at the Tailers for your Gowne:
Your hat cannot be alter'd in the crowne.

Rascall dost flappe me in the mouth with Tailer:
And tell'st thou me of Haberdashers ware?
I will not stand to be esteem'd a railer:
Defend your Pate, your Coxcombe Ile not spare:
As I to day want Physicke to my sorrow,
Goe seeke a Surgeon for thy selfe to morrow.