London 'prentice; or, The wanton mistress/The London 'Prentice

THE LONDON 'PRENTICE.

YOU wanton maids who want to range,
⁠⁠the country round about;
Both night and day, to ſeek and ſearch,
⁠to find young gallants out.

Your wanton fancies for to pleaſe,
⁠betimes give ear to me
For here's a ſong I really think
⁠will fit you to a tee.

'Tis of a merchant in the Strand,
⁠that had a handſome wife,
And ſhe did love the change of men,
⁠as ſhe did love her life.

That Merchant had a young 'prentice,
⁠that was at man's eſtate,
And as I underſtand, his wife
⁠this ’prentice ſhe did hate.

The life he with his miſtreſs liv'd,
⁠caus'd him ſhed floods of tears,
She oftentimes would call him names,
⁠and lug him by the ears.

This ſort of life with her he liv'd,
⁠almoſt the firſt three years;
But now you'll know through policy,
⁠he did fit her as appears.

One day in coſtly rich array,
⁠ſhe then abroad did go,
And to find out the gaming kane,
⁠the 'prentice lov'd to know.

Where'er ſhe went, he did her dog
⁠near to Salisbury-court;
There to a Crack-ſhop ſhe went in,
⁠to act her wanton ſport.

To fit her for her former tricks,
⁠now mark well his deſign:
He borrow'd a new ſuit of clothes,
⁠both coſtly, freſh and fine:

With beaver-hat, and knotted wig,
⁠ſword by his ſide and all;
Then to the Crack-ſhop he did go,
⁠for a private room did call.

He ſaw his miſtreſs and one more,
⁠a topping Miſs of the town,
With painted face and curled hair,
⁠a walking up and down.

Now after he had ſat a while,
⁠a knock or two he gave,
The drawer ſtraightway came to him,
⁠to know what he would have.

His anſwer was, I want a miſs,
⁠the drawer ſtraight reply'd:
Sir, you ſhall have one by and by,
⁠to ſit down by your ſide.

Two pictures to him then were brought,
⁠for him to chuſe his Miſs:
One was his miſtreſſes picture,
⁠he ſaid, I will have this.

Then in ſhort time, with impudence,
⁠ſhe came into the room:
And for to ſit down by his ſide,
⁠this thing ſhe did preſume:

With kiſſes ſweet and pleaſant talk,
⁠they paſs'd the time away;
At laſt two games at Friſky-huff
⁠he with her then did play.

As they were playing at the game,
⁠Bow-bells did ſweetly ring;
She ſaid to him, methinks, to me
⁠it is a pleaſant thing,

To hear how ſweet Bow-bells do ring,
⁠and merrily they go;
His anſwer was to her again,
⁠I love to hear that too.

O then of her he took his leave,
⁠and did return his clothes,
To him that was the right owner,
⁠and homeward ſtraight he goes:

He had been at home for hours two,
⁠before that ſhe came in,
But little ſhe did think or dream,
⁠he knew where ſhe had been.

So this did paſs on but one day,
⁠ſhe thus began to ſcold,
And for to lug him by the ears,
⁠he ſaid, Pray miſtreſs, hold

Your peace, and do not make a noiſe,
⁠Bow-bells they merrily go,
I love to hear them with all my heart,
⁠and ſo do you alſo.

Sirrah, then theſe words, ſhe ſaid,
⁠what mean you thus to ſay?
His anſwer was, Have you forgot,
⁠miſtreſs, the other day,

When you in Salisbury-court did play,
⁠there at your wanton game
Bow-bells they then rang merrily,
⁠have you forgot the ſame?

Why Sirrah, Who was there? ſhe ſaid,
⁠he ſaid. Both you and me;
And ſince it was my lot that time,
⁠your wanton tricks to ſee:

If e'er you beat me any more,
⁠while I with you do dwell,
For your playing at Friſky-huff,
⁠I will my maſter tell.

A curſed blank, quoth ſhe, it is
⁠that I ſhould be trapan'd ſo,
I would not for five hundred pounds,
⁠my husband ſhould it know.

If he then of my tricks ſhould know,
⁠it would make him wond'rous ſad,
’Twould fill his heart with jealouſy,
⁠and make him run horn mad.

Then inſtead of kicks and blows,
⁠a kiſs to him ſhe gave,
And a guinea ſaying, When this is done,
⁠thou more of me ſhalt have.

If thou wilt not thy maſter tell,
⁠ſo keep it cloſe, you ſhall
Have money of me, when thou wilt,
⁠and I'll be at thy call.