[ 4 ]
Which grieved her husband's heartfull ſore
But durst not draw his rapier.
Its oh! my forehead how it achs,
Plague on this cupboard, how it shakes,
But woe be to the first that speaks,
Until my game is over:
The other cuckold in the cupboard stood,
Not daring for to speak a word,
Until the horns sprung from his head,
He wished he'd ne'er been born.
His wife returned with the cast,
Says he, My dear, are ye come at last?
My darling wife, Are ye come at last?
Or did you wait for the brewing?
Fill us a glass, and let us drink,
But little did she ever think,
That any man could smile or wink,
At what she had been doing.
I must unto the cupboard go,
Pray, must you husband, must you so,
I've lost the key, where, I don't know,
Therefore you cannot enter;
But by some means he opened it,
Where he found his neighbour fit,
Walk out my friend if you think fits
But pray how did you enter.
O pardon, pardon, I do crave;
Its pardon, pardon, you shall have,
Altho' to me you proved a knave,
It was but out of humour:
