And there kindly takes his leave of the bride.
But vowing revenge on the bridegroom her dear,
Now comes the cream of the jeſt you ſhall hear,
Her huſband in France he’d got an eſtate,
and to ſell the ſame he goes out of late.
Now ſaid the ſquire, this will be the time,
I go to the lady and beg her to be kind;
I can enjoy her now while he is gone,
I make her a mother againſt his return.
Her huſband being gone over the ſeas,
He goes to the lady his mind to eaſe;
That ſay you, ſweet creature, he to her did ſay,
Wilt thou not be kind now thy huſband's away.
Dear madam, remember how I've been abus'd,
And how my favours they have been refus'd;
Me make me amend, and grant me the bliſs,
For a ſlice of a cut loaf can never be miſs’d.
But what would my huſband ſay ſhould he know,
And how I moſt have unkindly ſerv'd' him ſo,
Y‘er mind cries the ſquire, the thing we'll ſmother,
No harm I will do you, but make you a mother.
The lady cries to him, ſir, at ſuch a time,
Meet me at my houſe, and in love we’d combine,
But since my huſband is gone from home,
I resolv’d I will not lie alone.
The ſquire then gave her a gentle ſalute,
And that night took his leave without diſpute,
reſolving to finiſh what he had begun.
