The Ill Fortune of a Younger Brother,  
And I wish no Man's Fall by such another.   
Here in this Song you may behold and find,  
What plagues some men receive by womenkind;  
And to be married youngman's fingers itches,  
Although they lose their Doublet & Breeches.  
To the Tune of, If I should marry a young Wife.  
With Allowance.  
 

DOwn in a Garden green,  
as I abroad was walking;  
Where I could not be seen,  
I heard two Brothers talking;  
Come prithee sit down by me,  
and hear what I shall say:  
Dear Brother now advise me.   

For long time have I lived,  
but loath I am to marry;  
For fear of my ill choosing,  
which makes me long to tarry:  
For Widows they are wearisome,  
Maidens they be wanton;  
'Tis very true, God mend' am.   

If I should marry a young Wife,  
I hold it as a bliss;  
If I should marry a middle-aged Wife,  
I doubt she has been kissed:  
But if I marry an old Wife,  
that store of moneys hath;  
Oh, happy man than were I.   

If I should marry a young Wife,  
perhaps she's given to pride;  
If I should marry a middle-aged wife,  
perhaps she has been tried:  
If I should take an old wife,  
she'll freeze by the fire side:  
Both old and young attend me.   
 

HOw goes it now dear Brother,  
alas how do you fare;  
Now you're quite spoiled in Marriage,  
consumed with grief and care:  
Did not I give you warning,  
when you bid me beware:  
For all this would you marry.   

How goes she in apparel,  
delights she not in pride?  
No more than birds on bushes,  
down by the River side:  
She sits triming in the Looking-glass,  
and must not be denied,  
A whole forenoon together.   

How goes she in her carriage,  
does she not pout and lower?  
Oh the Devil is so busy in her,  
she cannot hold an hour:  
Canst thee not tame the Devi●, I say?  
O it lies not in my power:  
For alas I cannot conjure.   

If I go to an Alehouse,  
she's there as soon as I:  
And straight about my ears  
the Pots and Flagons fly;  
Then if I see her Cuckold me,  
I durst it not deny:  
Was ever man so crossed?   
 

She calls me Sot and Loggerhead,  
and says I am a fool;  
She keeps me in obedience,  
more than a boy at School;  
If I go to make water,  
she has me by the Pole,  
And scolds six hours after.   

She lugs me by the ears,  
and pulls me by the nose;  
I stand and tremble so in fear,  
till I befoul my Hose:  
I am so sore I do declare,  
with stripes that she me give,  
I wish old Nick might fetch her.   

No man by any Woman,  
was made so much a sot,  
In frosty mornings I must rise,  
to do I know not what:  
And if I do but snort a bed,  
kicks do fall to my lot,  
She is so much my Master.   

You youngmen all beware,  
what Mate you choose to Marry;  
For if you han't a care,  
like me you may miscarry;  
For Widows they be buckseme,  
Maidens be false and wary,  
I wish i'd not took any.   By L. W.  

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, I Wright, and J. Clarke.