Clods Carol: or, A proper new jig, to be sung Dialogue wise, of a man and a woman that would needs be married.  

To a pleasant new Tune.  Man. 
NOw in the Garden  
are we well met,  
To crave our promise,  
for promise is a debt.  Woman 
Come sit thee down all by my side,  
and when that thou art set,  
say what then will unto me.  M. 
Show me unfeignedly,  
and tell me thy mind,  
For one may have a young wench  
that is not over-kind.  W. 
Seek all the world for such a one,  
than hardly shall you find  
a Love of such perfection.  M. 
This single life to wearisome,  
fain would I marry:  
But fear of ill choosing  
makes me to tarry:  
Some says that flesh is flexible,  
and quickly it will vary.  W. 
It's very true, God mend them.  M. 
Why speakest thou ill of women,  
sith thou thyself art one?  W. 
Would all the rest were constant  
save I myself alone.  M. 
Faith, good or bad, or howsoe'er,  
I cannot live alone,  
but needs I must be married.  W. 
To marry with a young wench,  
she'll make thee poor with pride:  
To marry with one of middle age,  
perbaps she hath been tried:  
To marry with an old one,  
to freeze by fire side;  
both old and young are faulty.  M. 
I'll marry with a young wench,  
of beauty and of wit.  W. 
It is better tame a young Colt,  
without a kerbing bit.  M. 
But she will throw her rider down.  W. 
I true, he cannot sit.  
when Fillies fall a wighing.  M. 
I'll marry one of middle age,  
for she will love me well.  W. 
But if her middle much be used,  
by heaven and by hell;  
Thou shalt find more griefs  
than thousand tongues can tell:  
Ah, silly man, God help thee.  M. 
I'll marry with an old wench,  
that knows not good from bad.  W. 
But once within a fortnight  
she'll make her husband mad.  M. 
Beshrew thee for thy counsel,  
sor thou hast made me sad:  
but needs I must be married.  W. 
To marry with a young wench,  
me thinks it were a bliss:  
To marry one of middle age.  
it were not much amiss.  
I'd marry one of old age,  
and match where money is;  
there's none are bad in choosing.  M. 
Then thou for all thy saying,  
commendest the single life.  W. 
ay, freedom is a popish  
banishment of strife.  M. 
Hold thy tongue fond woman,  
for I must have a wife.  W. 

A Cuckold in reversion.   

When you are once married  
all one whole year,  
Tell me of your fortune,  
and meet with me here:  
To think upon my counsel  
thou wilt shed many a tear;  
till which time I will leave thee.   M. 

Were I but assured,  
and of a Beggar's lot,  
Still to live in misery,  
and never worth a groat,  
To have my head well furnished  
as any horned Goat;  
for all this would I marry.   

Farewell you lusty Bachelors,  
to marriage I am bend:  
When I have tried what marriage is,  
I'll tell you the event;  
And tell the cause, if cause there be,  
wherein I do repent,  
that ever I did marry.   
FINIS.   

The second part, To the same tune.  W. 
Good-morrow to thee new married man,  
how dost thou far?  M. 
As one quite marred with marriage,  
consumed and filled with care:  
Would I had ta'en thy counsel.  W. 
But thou wouldst not beware.  M. 
Alas, it was my fortune.  W. 
What grief doth most oppress thee?  
may I request to know?  M. 
That I have got a wanton.  W. 
But is she not a shrew?  M. 
she's any thing that evil is,  
but I must not say so.  W. 
For fear that I should flout thee.  M. 
Indeed to mock at misery,  
would add unto my grief.  W. 
But I will not torment thee,  
but rather lend relief:  
And therefore in thy marriage,  
tell me what w●es are chief;  
good cousel yet may cure thee.  W. 
Is not thy huswife testy,  
too churlish and too sour?  M. 
The devil is not so waspish,  
she's never pleased an hour.  W. 
Canst thou not tame a devil?  
lies it not in thy power?  M. 
Alas I cannot conjure.  W. 
What, goeth she not a gossipping,  
to spend away thy store?  M. 
Do what I can, I promise you,  
she's ever out of door;  
That were I ne'er so thrifty,  
yet she would make me poor:  
woes me I cannot mend it,  W. 
How goeth she in apparel?  
delights she not in pride?  M. 
No more than Birds do bushes,  
or hearts the river side,  
Witness to that, her lookingglass,  
where she hath stood in pride  
a whole forenoon together.  W. 
How thinkst then? was she honest,  
and loyal to thy bed?  M. 
I think her legs do fall away,  
for spring time keeping head.  
And were not horns invisible,  
I warrant you I were sped  
with broad browed Panthers.  W. 
Thy grief is past recovery,  
no salve will help but this:  
To take thy fortune patiently,  
and brook her w 〈…〉 t she is.  
Yet many things amended are,  
that have been long amiss;  
and so in time may she be.  M. 
I cannot stay here longer,  
my wife or this doth stay:  
And he that's bound as I am bound,  
perforce must needs obey.  W. 
Then farewell to thee new married man,  
since you will needs away;  
I can but grieve thy fortune.  M. 
All you that be at liberty,  
and would be void of strife:  
I speak it on experience,  
ne'er venture on a wife,  
For if you match, you will be matched  
to such a weary life,  
that you will all repent you.  
FINIS.    

London, Printed by A. M. for Henry Gosson.