But, alas! there's no such woman, The calamity is common, The first rib did bring in ruin, And the rest have since been doing, That my love creates my woe; Who is marry'd to a wife. Why then all the great pains taking? Why the sighing? why the waking? Why the riding? why the running? Why the artifice and cunning? Why the whining? why the crying? Why pretending to be dying? Why all this clutter to get wives, To make us weary of our lives? A VOYAGE TO IRELAND IN BURLESQUE. THE lives of frail men are compar'd by the sages, As men to their inns do come sooner or later, lows, He has run his race, though his goal be the gallows; steeple, And though I was bred 'mongst the wonders o' th' Peak, Would have thrown away money, and ventur❜d my neck. To have seen a great hill, a rock, or a cave, And thought there was nothing so pleasant and brave; But at forty years old you may (if you please) In such a stupendious labour as this is, Come lend me the aids of thy hands and thy feet, Though the first be pedantic, the other not sweet, Yet both are so restless in peregrination, They'll help both my journey, and eke my relation. 'Twas now the most beautiful time of the year, The days were now long, and the sky was now clear, And May, that fair lady of splendid renown, Had dress'd herself fine, in her flowr'd tabby gown, When about some two hours and an half after noon, When it grew something late, though I thought it too soon, With a pitiful voice, and a most heavy heart, Of over-grown, golden, and silver-scal'd fishes; By pacing and trotting, betimes in the even, E'er the Sun had forsaken one half of the Heaven, We all at fair Congerton took up our inn, Where the sign of a king kept a king and his queen : But who do you think came to welcome me there? No worse a man, marry, than good master mayor, With his staff of command, yet the man was not lame, But he needed it more when he went, than he came ; After three or four hours of friendly potation And of sovereign hostess our leaves kindly taken, This morning had got a foul flaw in his crown,) "A hay!" quoth the foremost, "ho! who keeps the house?" Which said, out an host comes as brisk as a louse; "The best liquor," quoth I, "that the house will afford?" "You shall straight," quoth he; and then calls out, "Mary, 66 Come quickly, and bring us a quart of Canary.” "Hold, hold, my spruce host! for i' th' morning so early, ' I never drink liquor but what's made of barley." Which words were scarce out, but, which made me admire, My lordship was presently turn'd into squire: "Ale, 'squire, you mean?" quoth he nimbly again, “What, must it be purl'd?"—"No, I love it best 66 plain." ‘Why, if you'll drink ale, sir, pray take my advice, Here's the best ale i' th' land, if you'll go to the price; Better, I sure am, ne'er blew out a stopple ; But then, in plain truth, it is sixpence a bottle." For the best ale in England, it is not too much: Come, bring out a bottle here presently, wife, I could not forbear, but alighted and kiss'd her: walk in ?" 66 I thank'd her; but told her, I then could not stay, For the haste of my bus'ness did call me away. She said, she was sorry it fell out so odd, But if, when again I should travel that road, I would stay there a night, she assur'd me the nation Should no where afford better accommodation: Meanwhile my spruce landlord has broken the cork, And call'd for a bodkin, though he had a fork; |