The Batchelor's Triumph:  
Or, The Single-Man's Happiness.  
A Hen-pecked Husband's like a Slave, who wears  
His Master's Fetters, whom each whisper scares;  
His thoughts are all to please his Wife, nor knows  
He other Hell, than what her frowns disclose:  
What Madmen then will be such fools, when they  
Without control, may Love and Freedom sway.  
To the Tune of, For what is Man, etc.  
With Allowance.  
 

FOr what is Man confined  
Unto a Woman kind?  
But a Slave, Cuckold, and Drudge;  
that must work and toil,  
whilst her Amours beguile,  
And deprive him of what he gains:  
but we will live a Single life,  
and free from care and strife,  
We tip their Fortunes for their pains.   

Riot we all the day,  
they bound and must obey,  
Wives they will curb 'em and make 'em ●●ow Sots;  
But we are free from this,  
Are not obliged to Kiss,  
Keep Ladies company just when we please:  
Pass the whole Year away,  
Merrily as the Day,  
Revel like Princes with pleasure and ease.   

Treated whole weeks are we,  
they love Variety,  
There's not a woman but will have her friend;  
Poor silly Idle Knaves,  
their wives we make our slaves,  
Court 'em to taverns, to Ball and to Plays;  
Whilst the poor Fool at home,  
Patient sits like a Moam,  
What they want nightly we give 'em a day.   
 

TAke Coach and to Hyde-park,  
There Revel till 'tis dark,  
Then with all speed the next tavern we find;  
Whither we strait repair,  
treated with sumptuous fare,  
And whatsoever we want have at command:  
Oysters and wine are free,  
Or whatsoever we see,  
Sill when we call for its ready at hand.   

Poor Husbands they know not,  
their Money pays the Shot,  
While that in Horns we return it again;  
Ignorant of the case,  
Whilst we their Foreheads grace,  
And do adorn their Brows with a high Crest;  
They'll not at Beer repine,  
Whilst their wives feast with wine,  
But think that all they do is for the best.   

Whilst their Dames Rant and sing,  
And close about us cling,  
Panting long time we lie in loves embrace  
For which their Gold they spend,  
And what we asked 'em lend  
Free without Bond or scru●●● resign,  
And empty all their store,  
Let Husbands work for mo●●,  
Friends shall be surely suppl●●●●●th their coin.   

Whilst they keep on their pace,  
And the Moams saddles grace,  
Of what they possess there's nought that's denied  
then who would be Married,  
Continually wearied,  
When loves sweet accents so plentiful flow;  
that Pastimes and Pleasures,  
we take at our leisures,  
And can abridge them when weary we grow.   

We live free from those cares,  
that a Husband still fears,  
Frownings and pout from wives when pleased  
till the fools moneys give,  
that they quiet may live,  
Which on their Gallants so kindly bestows:  
For the which we embrace,  
And set Horns on their face,  
Whilst the loved silver procures us fine cloat●●   

The poor Mopus confides,  
And for Christening provides,  
And by the Cradle a Rocking he sits;  
Then let Sots be confined  
Unto false women kind,  
But we●r resolved to Court single delight,  
And to pity his case,  
who with Hornny-fyed face,  
Slaves for his wife both by day and by night    

Printed for P. Brooksby, at 〈◊〉 Golden-Ball, near the Hospital-gate in West-smithfield.