WHat is't ye drink Ladies?

A merry Pott of Ale, or a quartern of the best in the House?

Let us have both Nick;

I am so troubl'd with the Winde at my stomack,

That if it were not for the comfort of a little Sniffe,

I should be at Death's door,

B [...]ing us some Spannish Tobacco too Nick,

As I take it, it is a great expeller of Rheume.

I can take a Pipe too as well as another Woman;

Yet my Husband grumbles at me;

Grutches me a little Strong Water before I go to the gate in the morning for my Ware,

But yfaith, yfaith, Ile meet with him for a base trick Ile warant him; the more he grutches, the more Ile have it, if Gold or silver will buy't.

Here's that will make a Cat speake, a Coward valiant, a Cripple caper, a poor man a King, and wash a­way all Diseases,

This is a Cup of as good Ale as ever was tip'd over a Tongue, I have serv'd six turns in a morning, and given my Customers as good cuntent as men need to desire from a Woman.

Here's to ye good Doll, remembring Ned, he is a kinde ladd Ile warrant him, and a good friend to a Wo­man.

You say right by my trot Neighbour Jone, he is as sweet a man as ever lay by a womans side, and one is as tender of a Mistrisses credit; Well, well, were but my Husband such a man, I should love him too well? but to tell you true, He is a very Boare to me, and lies in the bed by me like a logge rather then a man, turns his breech, and surreverence farts like a Stone-horse: Come, come, the World little knows what we poor Women indure.

Nay neighbour, 'tis not your case alone; I have one more like a Divell then a man, alasse my head's but weake woman, cosidering the kicks and blows I have had, that sometimes a double-Pott turns my Head: and then, if but Will the Souldier leads me home; you know a [Page 5]Woman can't be backward in requiting a mans Courte­sy, and send for a Cup at home; but if he comes in before he be gone, oh 'tis death to him Woman! and though he will sit you as dumbe as an unbrib'd Lawyer, till he be gon, yet hee's no sooner out of doors, but he calls me at his pleasure, saies I am the Souldiers VVhore, the Coblers Whore, the Broom mans Whore, the Tinkers Whore, nay Nick the Chimney-sweepers Whore, when (by this good drink Neighbour) I know no more dishonesty by them then I do by my own Bawdy.

If ye talk of Husbands! come, come, I swallow twenty of these in a day.

VVell, I have a contented man to my husband, I may goe when I will, and come when I will, and bring home a hundred Freinds one after another, hee's never the man that will say, Jugg, why dost thou so? shall be so attentive Ile warrant ye, to fetch beer, go of an arrant; nay rather then a freind should be lated home, will lie out of his Bed for him; and he looses nothing by't at the yeers end.

Hee's a right Genteman borne Ile warrant him;

Well I had a Husband would do so,

But he was too good for this life.

Are ye got amongst your Whores ye Rogue? Ye lick-spicket Roague; 'tis somthing that makes ye so drowsy a Nights; Ile broach your Noddle for ye, but Ile wake ye; Are ye so ramphant with a Pox t'yee?

Doe ye hear, Mistris Bung-breech,

Who do you call VVhore, pray?

Not you goody draggle-tayl with the doggs-Skin muff at your breech.

VVe shall have ye at Bum-barrell againe shortly in the Cellar with the Brewers Clarke; crack me that nut, crack me that nut, good Mistris Nick-pot.

Out ye Bastard-bearing Whore; who lay inn in the Cage you VVhore? who lay inn in the Cage:

No marvell your VVhoreship should tell me of a Bastard in the Cage, when you have lain in with no lesse then 3 in the same place your self; did not I bring you clouts ye VVhore, lend ye money to pay for the washing of your lowsy Smock, and bring you a Posset with a pox to ye, and Bread for your VVhores hide.

Bread for my VVhores hide, you broad-fac'd Jade you; you have forgot since you were knock'd by two Roagues under Mount-Mill and after came home as drunk as a Bitch; 'twas when ye fell down in the dirt, and said you had the Falling-sickness with a pox to yee.

So, so, Mistris Nick and Froath, with the Hawkes Nose, cut out of Marlbrough Chalke, Is this the thanks I have for lending you money to redeem your Husbands Cloake, when you had pawnd it to be drunk withall; is it; is it.

Yes, yes, Mistris Flownder-mouth, you shall have thanks with a Pox to ye, ye old Lecherous Jade you; I was never down-diddl'd by a Barbers Boy, on a Coblers stall ye VVhore, when his boy run his Aule in your but­tocks, to teach ye to pace ye VVhore; Marry goyp, come up with a foul smell, can you trot or gallop, Minion?

Go, go, to Tower-Hill, and get your Gun scowr'd ye Jade; I never was the Hang-mans. VVhore yet, nor had the Brewer come home with me to tip my Gigg five times in a day; I was never Flux'd in the Spittle yet of the P—so I was not.

Marry foh, come up my durty Cosin; your Husband [Page 7]saies you are a Jade; I never tyred going to Hackney for Turn-ups yet; mark ye that Puss.

Indeed Mistrs Tickle-— T— with the bas­ket of Crabs in your breech; go home and get your poor Husband a Mess of Porridge ye Jade, hie ye home, hie ye home ye Jade, there's a Hogg in the Cubbord.

To Hy-bury-Barn, to Hybury Barn you drum-ars'd Jade, go to your Fidler there; come I could say some­thing.

Say your heart out if you will, thou Whore, thy Neighbour knows what thou art well enough; I faith Puttock, He blaze your coat ile warrant you.

Thou fetch a Warrant for mee Piss-pot; do, do, Ide have thee begin once; go Pawn thy Petticoate & waste­coat again to fee Lawyers, then come to me for money to withdrawing thy Recognisiones, about your ugly tongue, and am I thus rewarded. I faith Spunge, Ile handle ye for Buttock I warrant yee: you'l lye in again shortly, then pray Neighbour lend me a Kerchief for my head, lend me a sheet, lend me a Candle, a little butter, &c. No, thou Ditch of damnation, thou shalt have a Rope and Butter, before thou shalt borrow a Pin of me.

Bear witnesse Neighbour, shee call'd mee Witch; Ile scratch ye Ale-house Polecatt—

Murder, Murder, Murder, fetch the Constable.

Doe ye knock here?

Out ye sneaking Roague, will ye suffer me to be murder'd amongst your Whores? the best in the Parrish shall understand whether I must be murder'd in my own House or no? they shall Sirrah: they shall understand whether you be a man fitting for a Licence, or to govern a House?

Tapster, what have wee to Pay? Sure the Deviill is got into this Ale-house my Ears are dumbe with the very Noise of your Tongues.

Here is three shillings Strong-Waters, two shillings in Ale, and twelve Pence Tobacco, that is six shil­lings just; and ye are all welcome.

The Devill pay the shott, ile pay not: Penny: Shall wee pay our Money to be abus'd? No, Ile be righted Ile war­rant you, if the best Law in England will right me; Though the Roague my Husband will not take my part, I shall finde freinds that shall tickle ye for Law i' faith.

Ile have my Money before you go hence, else Ile make th Room too hot for yee.

You shall be glad to look up, what shall honest Women be ravish'd in their Reputations; No, no w [...] stand upon our reputations, and our integrities, and scorn to have our credits and good Names drownded in an Ale-tub, Ile make you know Sirrah, that some of us that sit here have had Husbands that have born all Offices in the Parrish from the Scabbender to the Headborrow; come Neighbours, let us goe, why doe we spend our Tongues and Braines upon this Nick-pot, this simple cuckoldly Tapster.

Give me my shott give me my Money, Ile not trust a penny; my Brewer must be pay'd.

Pay'd you Tap-lash Roague, you Lant-liquor Rogue come Neighbors wee'l pay him, let's piss out his Eyes.