Six excellent songs (1)/The youthful squire

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THE YOUTHFUL SQUIRE.

My father had no child but me,
And all his care continually,
Was for to have me married well,
But under fortune’s frown I fell.

For to an old miser he wedded me.
His age it was three-score and three,
And I myself about seventeen,—
I wish his face I ne’er had seen.

For when that I abroad do go,
To meet a friend, to chat, or so;
If any man should salute me,
It more increases his jealousy.

A youthful squire did drink to me,
I pledg’d with him my modesty;
Thought it no harm, yet ne’ertheless.
My husband did my shoulders dress.

And when that we do go to bed,
To reap the joys for which we wed;
He does so kick and pinch me too,
That he my limbs leaves black and blue.

Next morning when that I arose,
I straight in haste put on my clothes.
And as he lay asleep in bed,
I with a ladle broke his head.

He took a stick and at me run,
I took another—so begun,
And round the room did beat him well.
Until upon his knees he fell

For every blow I gave him ten,
And ask’d would he be jealous again;
No, no, no, no, my loving wife,
If you will now but spare my life.

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