A merry Dialogue betwixt a married man and his wife concerning the affairs of this careful life.  
To an excellent Tune.  

 

I Have for all good wives a Song,  
I do lament the women's wrong,  
And I do pity them with my heart,  
to thinks upon the women's smart,  
Their labours great and full of pain,  
yet for the same they have small gain.   

In that you say cannot be true,  
for men do take more pains than you,  
We toil, we moil, we grieve and care,  
when you sit on a stool or chair,  
Yet let us do all what we can,  
your tongues will get the upper hand.   

We women in the morning rise,  
as some as day breaks in the skies,  
And then to please you with desire,  
the first we do, is, make a fire,  
Then other work● we strait begin,  
to sweep the house, to carded, or spin,   

Why men work at Plough and Cart.  
which soon would break a woman's hart  
They sow, they mow, and reap the corn,  
and many times do wear the horn.  
In praise of wines speak you no mo●●  
for these were lies you told before.   

We women here do bear the blame,  
but men would seem to have the fame:  
But trust me I will never yield,  
my tongue's my own, I thereon build,  
Men may not in this case compare,  
with women for their toil and care.   

Fie, idle women, how you prate,  
'tis men that gets you all your state,  
You know 'tis true in what I say,  
therefore you must give men the way,  
And not presume to grow too his,  
your speeches are not worth a fly.   

You men could not tell how to shift,  
if you of women were bereft,  
We wash your clothes, and dress your diet  
and all to keep your minds in quiet,  
Our works not done at morn nor night,  
to pleasure men is our delight.   

Women are called a house of care;  
they bring poor men unto despair,  
That man is blest that hath not been.  
iniuted by a women's sin,  
They'll cause a man if heal give way,  
to bring him to his life's decay.    

The second part.  
To the same tune  
 

IF we poor women were as bad,  
as men report being drunk or mad,  
We might compare with many men,  
and count ourselves as bad as them,  
Some oft are drunk and beat their wives  
and make them weary of their lives.   

Why women they must rule their tongues,  
that brings them to so many wrongs,  
Sometimes their husbands to disgrace,  
they'll call him knave and rogue to's face,  
Nay, worse than that, they'll tell him plain  
his will he shall not well obtain.   

We women in childbed take great care,  
I hope that like sorrow will fall to your share  
Then would you think of women's smart,  
and seem to pity them with your heart  
So many things to us belong,  
we oftentimes do suffer wrong.   

Though you in childbid bide some pain,  
your Babes tenues your joys again,  
Your Gossips comes unto your joy,  
and says, God bless your little Boy,  
They say the child is like the Dad,  
when he but little share in't had.   

You talk like an Ass you are a Cuckoldly fool,  
I'll break your head with a 3 legged stool  
Will you poor Women thus abuse,  
our tongues and hands we need to use.  
You say our tongues do make men fight,  
our hands must serve to do us right.   

Then I to you must give the way,  
and yield to women in what they say,  
All you that are to choose a wife,  
be careful of it as your life,  
You see that women will not yield,  
in any thing to be compelled.   

You Maids I speak the like to you,  
there's many dangers do ensue:  
But howsoever fortunes serve,  
see that my rules you do observe.  
If men once have the upper hand,  
they'll keep you down do what you can.   

I will not seem to urge no more,  
good wives what I did say before,  
Was for your good, and so it take,  
I love all women for my wife's sake.  
And I pray you when you are sick and die,  
call at my house and take my wife weigh.   

Well, come sweet heart, let us agree:  
content sweet wife, so let it be,  
Where man and wife do live at hate,  
the curse of God hangs over the gate.  
But I will love thee as my life,  
as ever man should love his wife,    
FINIS.   

Printed for M. Trundle, Widow.