University of Virginia Library

There flourish'd in a Market Town,
To Riches born, and Riches grown,
A Pair, who free from flagrant Strife,
Had reach'd the Middle Age of Life.
The Man was sprung of gentle Kind,
Nor ill his Person or his Mind;
Expert at Fishing and at Fowling,
At Hunting, Racing, and at Bowling;
Nor would he to his Betters yield,
More in the House than in the Field;
In Country Dances he had Skill,
And play'd at Whisk, tho' not Quadrille:
He knew what Squire might wish to know, Sir,
But then hard Fate! he was a Grocer,
And, spite of all his Wife could say,
Would sometimes work, as well as play.

His Wife was not unworthy Praise,
As Women went in former Days;
Her Beauty Envy must confess,
Exact her Breeding and her Dress;
In her own Family so good,
The Master manag'd as he would.
What Jars their Union discompose,
Her Passion often inward glows;
Her Tongue in Anger would she hold,
And rarely condescend to scold.
Her Voice not shrill, but rather sweet,
Her Conduct virtuous and discreet:
In short all Slander she defy'd,
One only Failing Malice spy'd,
One only Fault,—but that was Pride.
Her Lord's superior in Degree,
As something better born than he:
None equal to herself she view'd
Throughout the spacious Neighbourhood.
Th'Attorney's Wife the World allows,
Brought a large Fortune to her Spouse;
But then 'twas less, as she avers,
By full two Hundred Pounds, than hers.
Her Hands for Sugars were two nice,
She fainted at the Stink of Spice;
And fain her Husband would persuade
To leave off such a dirty Trade.
For Country Lasses by the by,
Can sometimes bear their Heads as high
As loftiest Matrons who reside
In stately Mansions of Cheapside;
Can be as proud of Dow'r and Birth
As e'er a Princess upon Earth.

None with our Grocer could compare
For Trade, each Market was a Fair;
From whence may gentle Readers know,
This Thing was acted long ago.
One Day his Bus'ness ran so high,
His Shop so throng'd with Company,
So quick his Customers Demands,
He needed more than all his Hands:
Down comes his Wife with careless Air,
But not to help him, never fear;
Far be from her a Thought so mean,
She came to see, and to be seen;
Nor e'er intended to do Good,
But stand i'th' Way of them that would.
That Instant in a Servant comes
Post-Haste, for Spices and for Plumbs,
Who Home had many a Mile to go;
The Grocer peevish 'gan to grow,
To see his Dearest loiter so.
Howe'er he mild accosts her:—Pray,
Or give your Help, or go your Way.
In vain he touch'd her on that Ear,
She did not, or she would not hear.
You see, the Footman cannot stay,
Pray lend your Hand the Things to weigh;
Why otherwise, did you come down?
She answer'd only with a Frown;
But such a Frown, as seem'd t'express
Her Dow'r, her Beauty, and her Dress.
Well! since you would not weigh the Ware,
Pray put it in the Basket there.
She turn'd her Back without Rejoinder,
And left her Spouse to fume behind her.
Hold, hold! the Things are now put in it,
I hope you'll do so much as pin it.
When a fourth time her Husband spoke,
The Dame her sullen Silence broke,
With very short but full Reply;
I pin your Baskets! No, not I.
Enrag'd he snatch'd the Footman's Stick,
And laid it on her Shoulders quick.
Amaz'd, as never struck before,
And feeling much, and fearing more,
To hinder what might farther come on't,
She pin'd the Basket in a Moment.

The Man troop'd home in merry Mood,
And laugh'd and tee—hee'd as he rode;
Pleas'd with the delicate Conceit
To see so fine a Lady beat:
He wish'd the Deed at home were done,
And could not help Comparison,
For his own Mistress was as fine
As her that suffer'd Discipline;
As proud, as high-born, and as rich,
But not so continent of Speech.

At Dinner-Time the waggish Knave
By Turns was fleering, and was grave;
Now bites his Lips, and quickly after
Burst out unwilling into Laughter.
Quoth Madam, with majestic Look,
Who Servants Freedom could not brook,
Nor Laughter in her Presence bear,
What ails the sausy Fellow there?
Does not the Fool his Distance know?
What makes the Coxcomb giggle so?
But angry Words and Looks were vain,
Again he giggles, and again.
Nay, says his Master, Tom, at least,
If you must laugh so, tell the Jest;
That, if 'tis worth our joining, we
In Mirth may bear you Company.
Tom up and told the Story roundly,
How a fair Dame was cudgell'd soundly.
Scarce Madam heard the whole Narration,
Before she fell in monstrous Passion:
Was ever any thing so base?
At Noon Day! in the Market-Place
A Woman so well bred as she!
Her Fortune, and her Family!
The Husband fain, with sober Sense,
Would curb her Tide of Eloquence:
But your true Vixen will, for no Man,
Forbear defending of a Woman,
And, let the Cause be bad or good,
Fight Tooth and Nail for Sisterhood.

Her Visits are among the Best!
No Lady e'er was better drest!
And was it proper, pray, that she
Should touch his nasty Grocery?
Not pin the Basket! beat her for it!
I did not think she would have bore it!
How could she help it, pray, my Dear?
What, do you too the Rascal clear?
A paltry Rogue! a Woman strike!
I think you Men are all alike.

Tom now grew merrier, not sadder,
Which made his Mistress ten Times madder;
Who started up in Fury strait,
And vow'd to break the Rascal's Pate.
Her Husband rises to assuage
Th' o'erbearing Tempest of her Rage,
But happen'd not her Hand to mind,
And caught the Rap for Tom design'd;
Who not approving of the Jest,
Return'd it soon with Interest.
Tom saw, in Cases of that Nature,
'Twas dangerous to be Mediator;
So ran down Stairs, as was but fitting,
And left his Mistress to her Beating.

Below Stairs was a Kitching Maid,
To whom our Tom had Courtship paid;
Tho' strong of Limbs, of Courage stout,
She argu'd oft'ner than she fought;
As cool as Heart could well desire
For one so conversant in Fire.
Says Moll: Above Stairs what's the Matter?
I never heard so loud a Clatter.
For fear of spoiling his Amour, he
Was backward to relate the Story,
Suspecting much, tho' Sweethearts, whether
By th'Ears they might not fall together.
I should be sorry, Moll, to see
A Diff'rence rise 'twixt you and me;
'Tis but a Trifle; let it go:
What signifies for you to know?
Nay, then I must—So out it came,
And put her Womanhood in Flame:
She her Resentment could not stifle.
A Trifle, said: you Tom, a Trifle?
I think my Mistress in the Right,
With Women none but Cowards fight:
A Gentlewoman so to maul;
A brutish Fellow after all.
Quoth Tom: A sore Affront was done him,
By turning her Backside upon him,
Moll thought she safely might be smart;
With Privilege of a Sweetheart;
Do you excuse him? very fine!
I'd make him kiss it were it mine.
Tom might have let the Matter die,
By this Time, in Civility;
For if both Sides disdain to bend,
How should a Quarrel have an End?

But Things, alass! too far were gone,
And one Word drew another on;
Apace their Passion higher rose,
From Words they quickly fell to Blows;
Honour concern'd, they both would try for't,
And both are daring tho' they dye for't.
The Strokes so lustily were laid,
The Lover and his dear Cookmaid,
Spite of the mutual Love they boasted,
Were both confoundedly rib-roasted:
They box'd like any Man and Wife,
So quick the Progress is of Strife,
It matters not now small the Grain,
If but continual be the Train;
Sufficient the first Spark is found,
Fire sudden skims along the Ground,
And flashes Lightning all around.

The Fact thus plainly laid before ye,
What is the Purport of the Story?
A double Moral may become it:
And justly each may follow from it.
From hence may Fools the Danger learn
Of meddling where they've no Concern;
And Males and Females may beware
Not to adopt another's Jar;
And those who will with half an Eye
The main Instruction may descry;
If you're too weak to win the Field,
'Tis best without a Combat yield:
Whene'er your Husbands please to ask it,
Run, fly, ye Wives, and pin the Basket.