A Pennyworth of good Counsel.  
To Widows, and to Maids,  
this Counsel I send free;  
And let them look before they leap,  
or, that they married be.  
To the tune of Dulcima.  
 


OF late it was my chance to walk  
for recreation in the Spring,  
Where as the feathered Choristers,  
melodiously aloud did sing;  
and at that tide,  
I there espied,  
A woman fair, her hands sat wring;  
she wept apace,  
and cried▪ alas;  
My Husband hath no forecast in him.   

Quoth she, when as I was a Maiden,  
I had store of Suitors brave,  
And I most coily did reject them,  
to take the man that now I have;  
but woe is me,  
that ere I see  
The face of him, makes me thus singing,  
most heavily  
I sing, and cry,  
My Husband hath no forecast in him.   

His flattering tongue it did bewitch me,  
fair promises to me he gave.  
And said I should have all things plenty,  
but no such thing I'm sure I have;  
his purse is light,  
nothing is right,  
Although a portion I did bring him;  
ay me poor soul,  
thus to condole,  
My Husband hath no forecast in him.   

he's not the man I took him for,  
alas, who would be so much tied?  
I tell you friends now seriously,  
my Husband he doth nought but chide:  
his looks are sour,  
and he doth lower;  
For Nature no good parts hath gi'n him:  
For which I grieve,  
You may believe,  
My Husband hath no forecast in him.   

When as he was a Bachelor.  
then who but he amongst the Maids?  
He went most neat in his apparel;  
but now I find his glory fades:  
so spruce he went,  
would give content,  
To any Maiden that could win him,  
héeed dance, and sing,  
wrestle and ring;  
But now he hath no forecast in him.   

Some Men unto their Wives are loving,  
and all content to them do give;  
But mine is lumpish sad and heavy,  
which is the cause wherefore I grieve:  
if I prove kind,  
some fault hée'l find,  
And says he knows where his shoe wrings him;  
in dark, or light,  
by day or night,  
My Husband hath no forecast in him.    

The second Part,  
To the same tune.  
 

HE keeps me short of every thing,  
no money he will give or lend;  
'Tis fitting sometimes that a woman  
should with a friend some money spend:  
I must sit here,  
with heavy cheer,  
Although that I did something bring him;  
which makes me thus  
to cry, alas,  
My Husband hath no forecast in him.   

He doth not use me like a Woman,  
and doth not care what clothes I have.  
When other men's wives wear each fashion,  
and are maintained rich and brave:  
thus to the wall,  
I may condole,  
Although that this same song I sing him:  
some counsel give,  
me to relieve;  
My Husband hath no forecast in him.   

Eringo-roots I do provide him.  
which Cawdles made of Muscadine,  
Yea, Marrowbones and Oyster-pies,  
which all are dishes good and fine:  
and Lobsters great,  
for him to eat,  
And yolks of Eggs; these have I gi'en him:  
do what I can,  
yet this same man  
By no means will have forecast in him.   

He will not have me go abroad,  
yet seldom is himself at home;  
He saith that I must be a House-dove,  
I must not fly abroad and come:  
when other Wives,  
do lead brave lives,  
They'll go to Plays, hear Fiddlers singing,  
and spend their Coin,  
at Ale or Wine;  
My Husband hath no forecast in him.   

Thus like the Turtle I sit mourning,  
because I have an unkind Mate;  
And fickle Fortune on me frowneth,  
it is my destiny and fate:  
I hope hée'l mend,  
and be more kind,  
With sweet embraces I will cling him;  
I'll speak him fair  
to have more care;  
That he may have more forecast in him.   

But if I see he will not mend,  
come tell me Widow, Maid, or Wife;  
What shall I do in this same woe?  
for I am weary of this life:  
my tongue I'll tune,  
It shall chime noon,  
And in his ears a peal I'll ring him;  
I am put to't  
and I will do't,  
Because he hath no forecast in him.    
M. P.  
FINIS.