A brief Sum of Certain Wormwood Lectures. Which Women use to sing and say Unto their Husbands every day. Translated out of all Languages into Billingsgate Dialogue. By Martin Parker. Out Rogue spend thy Money O good wife a man kneels under a tree and petitions his wife who threatens him with a household implement London, Printed for J. Whight, W. Thackeray, and T. Passenger. 1582. Certain Wormwood Lectures Translated out of several Languages into Billingsgate DIALOGUE. 1. Dialogue. Of a Woman finding her Husband in company with another Woman whom she likes not HA', ha', have I found you together i'faith? here's a goodly sight I'll promise you, a Knave and a Quean together: Is't possible goodman Rascal that you could give me the slip so neatly, and sneak hither to your Trull? But I am glad that now at the last my good fortune hath brought us together, we'll have about on't before we part. Thou impudent Whore, how darest thou keep company with my Husband? What business have you together? none that's honest I doubt: Come out to me thou brazen faced Jade, or I'll send the Pot to thee with a vengeance; let me come to her you Rascal, or else give me the Pot: Won't you, you Rogue you, won't you? 'slight I'll have my will if it costs my life. O thou villain, such boldfaced huswives (as this) makes me live such a life (at home) as I do: I'll be revenged on you both before George, or I'll want will or strength, before I'll let slip this opportunity, I'll want breath to keep me alive: Let me come to her, I say, thou slave, or I'll do that which I never thought of before; if thou wilt protect thy Minion from my Fury, thou shalt taste of it thyself. What, shall the proud Harlot (thinkest thou) outbrave me to my face? You were best to let me have my Pennyworths on her, for by this light I'll give her a mark that thou may'st know her by another time, lest perhaps thou may'st forget her: I saith Mistress Minks, it were a good deed to slit your nose, & spoil that tempting face of yours. Why dost thou not let me come to her, thou white liver'd Knave? Don't prevent my spleen upon her, lest thou urge it against thyself, Come away, I say, for i'll not leave her as I found her; no, i'll pull a Crow with her, if I be hanged for't. His excusive Answer. I Prithee Wife abate thy furious spl●●● Let temperance sway thy passion at 〈◊〉 Alas, what by this woman hast thou 〈◊〉 That moves thee to commit that 〈◊〉 Hast thou observed any dishonest ca●● Or that I have infringed my vow in 〈◊〉 I met her in the street by chance, and 〈◊〉 Would needs bestow on her a pint of 〈◊〉 I vow to Heaven no dishonesty, Was in my thoughts; then do not thou divin● Such evil, where no evil thought once was, This jealousy, 'twere sit thou shouldst ore-pass. What I have done to her, to mine own Sister I might have done, and in a lawful Sort, I'th' way of salutation once I Kissed her, Having no mind of any sordid Sport; And wilt thou then (without examination) Like an intemperate Beast be ruled by passion? Consider what is done in word, and what 〈◊〉 Without prevention thou hast done indeed: Think what repentance cometh after that, When women in rash fury do proceed: Upon my life the woman is (for me) As honest as thyself; or any she, Her husband I have known this dozen years, If I meet with him, or he with me, Drink must be had; then leave thy childish fears 〈◊〉 ●●rry thou'st such ill conceit of me, 〈…〉 I hope may with a woman drink 〈◊〉 ●●●t dishonesty, mayn't they dost think? 〈…〉 I should have suffered thee to have 〈…〉 at thy overweening wrath doth urge, 〈◊〉 ●●●u not made fine work; thou villain knave 〈◊〉 ●●●cal, thou didst call me, I can purge 〈◊〉 ●●om that crime, my lenity is such, 〈◊〉 ●rong a harmless woman, that's too much, ●●●'d not for five pounds her husband should ●●ar of this injury done unto his Wife, And in my company, perhaps it would Occasion be to set all friends at strife, Thou knowst the man I am sure; 'tis Mr. Pell, Who wedded her of late, and loves her well. Now therefore Madge (to excuse the crime) Sat thou down by us, and call for thy pint, And I will make atonement for this crime, Thee with his wife henceforth I'll well acquaint: we'll all be friends, I'll make this bargain so, Her husband of this business ne'er shall know. Dialogue 2. This is between a jealous old Woman and her young Husband; and thus she gins. I, I, follow thy idle course of life still, and see what will come on't in the end: Alas, alas, youngster, I can see day at a little hole, and as far into a Millstone as an other woman can; I observe how every day more and more you slight me, you regard not my company neither at home nor abroad, neither at bed, nor board: you are ashamed forsooth that I (because I am somewhat ancient) should walk and be seen to go along with you in the streets: but i'll warrant you if Mrs. A. or Mrs. B. or Mrs. C. or any of those idle Gossips entreat your company, oh the request is no sooner made but 'tis granted; on go; your Cloak, and out of doors you go with any of these so hastily and willingly, as if you were to receive a thousand pounds: but if I speak to you, nay desire you, and woo you as it were for my life, to walk with me into the Town to visit my acquaintance, or in the fields, or to Islington, to be merry and recreate myself, oh, what business is pretended? What excuses are framed? What Letters we have to write, what men we have appointed to meet (about earnest occasions) just at the very time? And if I do chance to get you once in a month or six weeks to walk with me any where, don't I perceive how you march before me after four miles an hour? if I can limp after within sight of you, well and good, if not, I may lose myself for any care that you take, and why is all this Sir, think you? but because I poor old wretch, should not be taken notice of to be your wife; and I observe (thank you) what nods and winks you use to other women in the streets: As who should say, take warning, the old woman is behind, therefore pass by and take no acquaintance: and when we are in company to be merry; not a smile, nor a cheerful look shall we get from you, no, you are then in your melancholy dumps: behaving yourself rather like an Hermit in his Cell, or a Monk in his Cloister, than a merry man at the Tavern or Alehouse: But do you think Sir, that I cannot hear what a merry companion you are in my absence? Oh! then especially if such a one, or such a one, or any other handsome woman be in your company, you'll sing, dance, tell merry tales, kiss, dally, compliment, drink healths to that Mistress Fart, and this Mistress Fiss, and if the time and place be suitable; Well, well, I say no more for shame, and i'faith, i'faith i'll turn away that fine Mrs. Minks your Maid, for something that I have ta'en notice of within these few days: your Nose bled forsooth the other day, and you must needs through your foul Handkerchief to her, but she (with a wanion to you both) must hold the Basin till you wash your hands, marry gip with a murrain, but for that matter let me alone, i'll remedy that, or else I'll want of my will i'll keep no such fine snouted minions as she is, i'll have a homely, huswively wench, that has more honesty than beauty, and a better heart than a face, i'll not be thus plagued long, out upon't that a woman that has out-lasted the date of four husbands, and now comes to be slighted by a boy of two and twenty; well, thy unkind dealing will be the death of me, before nature hath appointed, I took thee to be the staff of my age, but I doubt shortly thou wilt prove a rotten one with a pox: you marry an old Rich Widow for a comfort: well I have done, 'tis but folly to speak any more now. His Answer. NO more for shame fond fool I think Thou canst produce from that foul sink, Which makes thy very words to stink of malice Were I a single man again, I'd not have thee I tell the plain, Wert thou worth more than the K. of Spain's chief Palace. I do confess I am served but just, Who for that cursed Pactolian dust, Must like an Ass my free neck thirst in the halter. Old Widows, marry hang them all, That will bring young men into thrall, This will the stoutest heart appall, and alter, Fond jealousy I plainly find, Is incident to women kind, Chief old women are inclined unto it. Whose conscience tells them that they can Not give content to a young man: Experience since the World began doth show it. Precious Woman must I be Kept in subjection by thee? I who before could travel free at pleasure. Now whether go you is the word, That my old Wife doth me afford, I now repent my hasty accord at leisure. I see this great despairity In Wedlock brings much misery; For I am not full twenty three till Easter. And thou art fourscore and two years old, A shameless tale 'tis to be told, Nay, that's the least on't I dare hold a Taster. And yet forsooth I dare not walk Abroad, or with woman talk: Lest I take Cheese instead of Chalk, you doubt it. I can't blame love, nay, says the Elf Was cause o'th' match, no 'twas thy pelf: O would that I had kept myself without it. For I have sold my liberty, My freedom's changed for slavery. Though I have ne'er so honestly suspicion Arising from the forenamed cause; Still matters of dissension draws No love, but quite against all Laws division. This is the life that I live in. No woman dares give me a Pin, to maunder. But presently you do begin to And if a man familiar be, Especially one of mean degree, Then straight you judge that he's for me a Pander: But since there is no remedy, I now must bare it patiently, And make so much hilarity as may be, If these ill words I done't observe, Nor from the rules of Wedlock swerve, Myself I will not pine nor starve By'r Lady. No, say or do what thou thinkest fit, (According to thy childish wit) I will be sorry near a whit the less for't, So long as thou dost live, I will Be constant, kind, and loving still, I pass not (though thou wish me ill not this fort. Thus wife my resolution now Thou'st heard, all true to thee I vow, believe on't. If thy good nature can allow, Then cease to make this needless stir, If thou wilt not, say I'm a Cur, If for the same I do not further grieve on't, And let all young men for my sake, Especial heed and warning take, How they with Widow's matches make for Riches. Unless with patience they can bear Some wrong, such men do find Hell here, If she brings Wealth, (though old) she'll wear the Breeches. Dialogue 3. Between a proud Woman and her Husband about Apparel. She thus gins WHy thou Whoreson Rascally fellow, didst thou marry me to make me a shame to myself and all my Kin? Other men's wives forsooth (of an inferior rank to you) can go gallant and brave, and have what apparel they ask for, while I go like a very Drudge: Nay, almost as bad as a Dunghill-raker. I'll warrant you there's Mrs. G. at the Horns, Mrs. F. at the Goat, and Mrs. S. at the Ram, these can change Gowns as oft as the Earth does her Livery, that's twice in a year, Hats, Aprons, and new Dress, are ordinarily altered with the Moon; and Saturday night sets not a period to the week more certainly than the Shoemaker brings new shoes, but I poor silly wretch must go like Joan hold my staff, with a gown and a hat of the fashion in Eighty eight. A pair of hose & shoes at Easter, (I am sure I had none since) now 'tis Midsummer; I have never a pair of Gloves worth the drawing on my hands; thou never bestowest above eightpences or ten-pences (at the most) of a pair for me. Now to be brief, mark what I say to thee, I have complained so long in vain, that I am weary of that way: But i'll try another i'faith, thou hadst been better to have been a little more free of thy purse, for I know what I know; well there's enough said for this time: go to, i'll want no apparel goodman Rascal, I want i'faith, pick English out of that if thou canst: if thou wilt not bestow a new fashioned hat upon me, i'll bestow an old fashioned cap upon thee in troth, and that quickly too, there's more, crack me that Nut sirrah. His Answer. WHy how now Joan, what dost in earnest speak? Then I perceive thy judgement is but weak, Dost threaten me? then I were best to look About me, so I will in every nook. Thou'dst better to have held these words within, Canst thou imagine any good to win: That to extremity was ne'er yet put, I have maintain'n thee in an honest sort As I was able, now i'll keep thee short; Seeing thou tellest me whereto I shall trust, I'll put thee to't i'faith; and 'tis but just, Thou Map of impudence is this the way To get fine , and must you needs betray Thy sordid thoughts; well, mark the end on't Jug, Think not that I will keep thee fine and smug, To please the fancy of my rivals: no, I'm very glad so much thy mind I know: Now should I give thee Apron, Gown, or Hat; Then I were worthy to be pointed at. Sith to my face thou darest presume to say, That thou wilt get new another way, Go to thy chance, my heart shall have no share in Thy gains, this is no place to sell thy ware in; For (though I can't deny thee for my wife) Yet sigh thou gav'st me such a cause I may Abjure thy company, begun I say. Poor Joan, (though proud before perceiving well How matters went, upon her knees she fell; Husband saith she, though I speak more than's fit; Excuse my tongue which runs before my wit. I never wronged you John by this good light, Nor ne'er intent to do although in spite I spoke these speeches, vexed through want of , Yet if you'll credit me by all the oaths That can be sworn, for all my idle brags, Ere i'd perform my words i'll go in rags: No, no, sweet John, use me even as thou wilt, Although my tongue (in choler) runs a tilt, I will be loyal to thee, yet I must Confess that this thy anger is but just: I have deserved through my o'erweening speech Thy constant hatred, yet let me beseech (Upon my meek acknowledge o'th' crime) That thou wilt but excuse my fault this time. John moved with her Crocodilian tears, Her corpse dejected by the hand uprears. Well Jugg, says he, upon this Protestation, I am contented to suppress my passion And re-admit thee into favour: thou Must be content with what I allow, I, I, says Joan, and think myself unworthy Of the worst rags I have had sweetheart from thee: I will refuse to do no lawful thing, Such fruits of discord henceforth shall not spring From my fond fancy; then all that's amiss, Quoth John, I freely pardon, and this Kiss Shall seal our new contract of love, and none By my consent shall break it, Amen, says Joan. So John and Joan do like a loving pair Jointly agree, (and now with speaking fair) Against next Sunday she is promised that He'll buy her a new fashioned Gown and Hat. Let all wives take a precedent of Joan, Fair words can get new , foul words get none Which was the wiser of this couple, I Leave to their judgement who both causes try. Dialogue 4. A pining covetous Woman to her Husband for Money to maintain herself and Children. I Have brought myself to a fine pass, have I not think you? What must I be kept at my allowance? Why thou hardhearted wretch, dost think that I with my three Children and a Maid and thyself when thou pleasest, can be maintained with twelve shillings a week, as the time is now? What dost thou think I can buy for this Money, unless we can make shift with Rye Bread, Essex Cheese, and small bear: and if I buy any flesh, my Money would not reach any higher than Sheeps-heads, Ox-cheeks, and Midriffs: if I attain to a Leg, or piece of Neck-beef, than I think we are daintily fed▪ oh, but dost thou imagine, that I am so senseless to think, that (though now and then for fashion sake thou eat of that hard fare without finding fault) thou hast no better cheer abroad i'll warrant thee i'faith, thou shalt shift for one; and leave me to deal with the rest so well as I can: for before I will endure this course long, i'll leave thee and go far enough: Think with thyself how a woman is able to endure it, that thou shouldest sit in a Tavern, Alehouse, or Tobacco-shop, there quaffing, bousing, and smoking your Nose, many times from morning till night, not regarding your family; but i'faith, i'faith, hereafter I will follow you more narrowly than I have done, and find you if you be above ground, or in any blind Cellar under ground, and make the place too hot to hold you and your Companions also for the time; and make the pots, cups, and glasses fly about, and break them all in pieces, pay for them who list, I care not, it shall not be your smooth words then shall qualify the fury of my spleen, as sit down, sit down by me Sweetheart, and be patiented, i'll drink but the other Pot, and be gone; no sir, i'll have you away with me, no excuses shall serve turn, you have too often deceived me in that kind already. For, now I intent to take a new course with you, that the World may be better with us than it is, and we may live in better fashion and credit amongst our neighbours than we do, or else you shall see that i'll perform, what I have formerly spoken, and be no whit less than my word: but this course shan't continue long, i'll set something flying i'faith, ' le do something e'reit be long that shall vex every vein in thy heart, thou churlish Miser, don't think that I like a poor drudge will famish myself and my small Children, while thou spendest thy money abroad, or savest it for some worse end. If thou wilt get brats (with a wanion to thee) allow means to keep them: (for according to the old Proverb) i'll not take all the care, and keep the Child too. Construe my words to what sense thou wilt, seeing thou put test me to't, I'll speak, and do too more than I speak: well, few words are best, but i'faith give me better maintenance, or else i'll go shift for myself, and leave thee and thy family to share it by the teeth; i'll to service i'faith, if I must needs be a drudge and a slave, it shan't be under one that took me to maintain me like a woman: twelve shillings a week among five or six on's: No more of that if you love me. His Answer. HEy day, Nell, what up aloft? How does thy tongue at random run? I do confess thou'st often spoke, Yet nothing for redress is done, Nor nothing shall by my consent, For i'll know how my means is spent: 2. Is't not a wonder, that three Barns, A Maid, thyself, and I (who seek To get it, and the money earns) Should on twelve shillings live a week? Alas, I earn (and work full hard) But sixteen, so but four is spared. 3. Wert thou a Housewife; as thou dost Profess thyself, (well I can tell) I know our Household with that cost May be maintained and live full well. But thou thyself dost something spare, For which we all the worse do fare. 4. Now women are naturally bend To pining, though they have no need, They seldom are in heart content; However they be clothed or feed. For certainly didst thou not hoard This stipend would good fare afford. 5. Wert thou examined aright, (As that to do I am unwilling) Thou of that means thou makest so slight, Yet out of twelve thou sav'st a shilling. I know most women thus proceed, They still complain before they need. 6. And since thou dost abuse me so Of parsimony without a cause, Before i'll let my money go, Upon the matter I will pause: Though I confess all things are dear, That means might buy us better cheer. 7. (I plainly find unto my grief) That slender fare thou dost provide, Instead of wholesome powdered beef, Thou dressest what I can't abide: And 'cause thou wouldst prevent the worst, Thou (with the Proverb) call'st Whore first. 8. Come, i'll myself be Caterer, And take my charge out of thy care; Upon my life (for all this stir) Less Money shall buy better far Her projects failing, pining Nell Did cry peccavi, all is well. Dialogue 5. A Woman to her Husband finding him at the Tavern or Alehouse. SO, so now 'tis as it should be, this is your good Husbandry, is it not? Now the work goes well forward, dothed not? This is the way to maintain your Wife and Children, wilt not? i'faith you drunken Rascal, I'm glad I have (at the last) found out your haunt, this way your Money goes; 'tis no marvel you are so sparing at home, there you grudge a penny to fetch milk for your Children; nay, you'll hardly allow Soap and Candle, but every thing is too much; this groat is grumbled at, that two pence is pined at. But here among your poor companions, twelve or eighteen pence is not thought much of; but i'faith i'll take an order with you, i'll ferret you out in all your hole, come, will you come away, Sir? I protest if you come not altogether the sooner, mark the end on't, if I come again and find you here, i'll break all the juggs, classes, pots, and pipes that I can find upon the Table, I will in troth; and now I think on't, I'll have you with me, or i'll ne'er go away alive, you shall not put me off with your whimsies, you shall not, you drunken beast, you shall not, etc. His Answer. 1. I Prithee good Wife, Leave making of strife, And sit down by me if thou pleasest, But if thou wilt not, ●●en be gone like a Trot, ●n my company much thou displeasest. 2. ●hat comest thou for, ●●owing I abhor 〈◊〉 be thus pursued and reproved? ●●●n leave off thy prate, I tell thee old Kate, 〈◊〉 patience is very much moved. 3. 'tis in vain to resist, 〈◊〉 i'll come when I list, ●●en drink and be gone without scolding: 〈◊〉 sure what I spend, ●et, there's an end, ●o thou I am nothing beholding. 4. When she did perceive That he would not leave His company to go home with her; She sat to him close, And fuddled her nose, And both went home reeling together. Dialogue 6. A Woman to her Husband, coming home drunk. ARE you come, goodman Pot-shaker? 'tis very well done, how hard you laboured to day, are not your arms weary with lifting the pot? I do not think but they be, out you filthy beast, art not ashamed to be abroad all day, and then come home at night so drunk that thou art scarce able to stand on thy legs? you have been in some good company, I believe, if the truth were known: I have been in all the houses through the whole Parish to seek you, and could hear no news of you; at the Fox you have not been this six days, at the Feathers, not since Friday last, at the Frying-pan you were never seen since Shrove-tuesday; no, no, you have gotten some new haunt. Well, I shall smell out all your holes, come you drunken beast, get you to bed: I see no supper will down with you to night, indeed 'tis better well saved, than id●●● spent: Come away thou foul sot, thou'lt nod so long till thou'lt fall i'th' fire anon: why dost not come, thou drunken Pisspot? etc. His drunken Answer. 1. THou musty, rusty, dusty drab, Why dost thou look so like a crab? this my welcome home? ●ay then i'faith i'm gone again, I can speak, i'll tell thee plain, ●●e not be thus overcome. 2. Why a a-am I drunk thou dirty slut, ●hat thou such tricks on me dost put? ●●e make the eat thy words: ●m as sober (I suppose) 〈◊〉 in the morning when I risen; ●o more of these discords. 3. 〈◊〉, a-am I not quietly come in? ●nd but that thou didst first begin ●●o abuse me in this kind, ●nd sigh thou dost my humours thwart, 〈◊〉 could almost find in my heart ●oo beat thee lame or blind. 4. When she saw what her words had wrought, ●nd to what humour he was brought, She wisely changed her note, And with fair words got him to bed: But in the morning what she said, The second part shall show't. An Advice for Women. A Woman's rule should be in such a fashion, Only to rule her Household and her passion: And her obedience never out of season, So long as either Husbands lasts or reason, Ill fares that harmless Family, that shows A Cock that's silent, and a Hen that crows, I know not which live more unnatural lives, Obedient Husbands, or Commanding wives. The Conclusion. And now my Muse with me is like to scold, For using her assistance at this time, In railing Prose, and flattering pleasing Rhyme▪ Though feminine, yet she's not of that mould▪ For she holds froward language for a crime, And says, with her I have been over bold: The forked Mountains she in haste doth climb, And at her partings thus to me she told, I doubt (my Friend thou'lt purchase) women's hatred, When these my lines are amongst the people scattered. FINIS.