 | The knave of Clubbs |  |
A She-Deuill made tame by a Smith.
A smug of Vulcans forging trade,Besmoak'd with sea-cole-fire,
The rarest man to helpe a horse,
That Carmen could desire,
For any Iade he phisick had,
That euer load did draw:
The head-ach, crampe or haw,
Poll-euill, canker in the eye,
Or vlcer in the nose:
The lampasse, crest-fall, withers greife,
The nauill-gaule, all those,
With diuerse tedious to rehearse,
Crowne-scab, and quitter-bone,
Strangulion, glanders, yellowes, wormes,
Smug would giue ground to none,
Yet this rare smith to cure one plague,
That vext him was too younge,
(Which made him weary of his life)
It was his wiues curst tongue.
If to the ale-house he had gon,
To take or giue a pot,
Being of a dry complexion,
(For a Smith you know is hot)
His wife was present at his heeles,
And rong him out this peale:
Rogue, Rascall, villaine, theefe, and slaue
(Her almes thus would she deale)
Come home thou drūkard to thy worke,
Each knaue hath thee at beck,
A pox take such a husband,
And the deuill breake his neck.
While I at home doe spare;
Not caring (so thy guts be full)
How thy poore wife doth fare.
Thy seruants doe euen what they list,
Thy children they may starue,
Hanging's to good for such a rogue,
Farr worse thou doest deserue.
Out filthy beast I loath thy lookes,
And hate thee like a toad:
Drunke e'ry day vngodly wretch,
And when thou hast thy load,
Call for Tobacco, that thou art
As black within as soote?
Before the Lord, wer't not for shame,
I'de stampe thee vnder-foote.
Get thee to worke: out villaine out,
Thou drinkst not one drop more,
I would these whores that trust such knaues,
Might ne're be paid their score.
They neuer knew what sorrow meant,
But griefes to others giue,
A mischeife light on Hostesses,
That doe by drunkards liue.
This was her daily kindest phrase,
From morning vntill night,
When she appear'd in sight.
At length, more wearied with her tongue
Then trauaile tires a Iade,
Vnto himselfe most resolute,
A cruell vow he made.
Which was, when she did scould againe
(Which sure would be next morrow)
To knock her downe most valiantly,
And make an end of sorrow.
This being decreed, his wife next day
Begins a fresh allarme,
With rogue, and theefe: Smug takes a barre
Of yron, breakes her arme.
The neighbours all admire at this,
To heare the patient Smith,
Had broke an arme of his curst wife,
To tame her tongue therewith.
VVell, there's a Surgeon fetcht in hast,
To take the queane in cure;
VVho for the space of many months
Did extreame paine indure,
For of all flesh, a shrowes they say,
Is very hard to heale:
Therefore no wiseman willingly
VVill haue therewith to deale.
And like to cost her life,
The Smith did aske the Surgeon,
In the hearing of his wife,
What would content him for his paines?
Who of an honest minde,
Did answere thus; I see y'are poore,
Therefore I'le vse you kinde.
I'le take but forty shillings friend,
With that J'le be content:
Why then qd. Smug, hould heer's foure pound,
Which paiment thus is ment:
One arme I pay for hath been broke,
And tother forty, hould
Against I breake the other arme,
The next time she doth scould.
His wife sees this, and sees him pay
Before hand for a cure,
Doth liue most gently, quiet, meeke,
Guiding her tongue so sure,
That Smug became a happy Smith,
Vnto his hearts desire,
And had her euer at command,
In all he could require.
| The knave of Clubbs | |