Have among you good Women
OR,
A High-way discourse betweene old
William Starket,
And
Robin Hobs, going to Maydstone market:
Good Women before hand let me you advise,
To keepe your owne counsell, and so be held wise.
If any one take in ill part what's here said,
Sheel shew by her kicking that shee's a gauld jade.
To the tune of, O such a Rogue.
GOd morrow old father
Starket,
whither goe you with such spéed,
Ime going to
Maidstone Market,
to buy such things as I need:
I care not if I goe a long with you,
if you goe no faster then I,
I am very glad that I spide you,
for I loue good company.
What thinke you of Alce that sels butter,
her neighbors head clothes she off pluckt,
And she scolded from dinner to supper,
oh such a scold would be cuckt.
There's many such birds in our towne,
whose fury no reason can swage,
Ide giue very gladly a crowne,
to heare them all sing in a Cage:
Poore men in subiection are held,
so are modest women likewise,
Vnlesse their owne minde be fulfil'd,
they'll be ready to scratch out ones eies.
What thinke you of
Ione the Spinner,
her husbands pocket she pickt,
And she grudges her seruants their dinner
oh such a Queane would be kickt.
Nay kicking's too good for her,
her husband of her stands in awe,
Out of doores he dares not stirre,
for feare that he féele club law:
If he to the Ale-house steale,
shée'll goe as fast or faster,
And there she will ring him a peale,
that is worse then Lord or Master:
What thinke you of
Ruth the Seamstris,
her tongue can no way be reclam'd,
She rules o're poor
Tom like an Empresse,
oh such a proud wench would be tam'd.
Tis pitty that men are such fooles,
to make themselues slaues to their wiues,
For still where the foot the head rules,
'tis wonder if any thing thriues:
That man that will be his wifes drudge,
of such a conceat I am,
That if I might be his Iudge,
he should eat none o'th roasted Ram:
What thinke you of
Ione that cries pins,
come eight rowes a penny cries shée,
She has broken her husbands shins,
and sweares shée'll be drunke before hée.
Why, wherefore all this doth he suffer,
why if he should giue her a check,
She tels her friends how he doth cuff her,
and threatens to break her neck:
So he for feare shée'll cry out,
dares neither to strike nor chide her,
For shée'll giue the word all about,
that his Queans wil not let him abide her:
What thinke you of drunken
Sue,
for drinke she will sell all her smocks,
I'th stréetes she will raile and spew,
'tis fit she were tam'd in the stocks.
The second part,
To the same tune.
NAy sometimes besides her own getting,
shée'll pawne his shirt and his bréeches,
Which all shall be spent at a sitting,
and thus she increaseth his riches:
What thinks her poore husband of that,
why, if he doe her reprehend,
His face She will scratch like a Cat,
and sweares what she gets she will spend:
What thinke you of
Peg the Pie-woman,
her Nose hath béen cut and slasht,
Shée's turnd now a dayes very common,
oh such a Queane would be lasht.
Last Saturday noone at dinner,
some spoke about her I suppose,
How she was found nought with a Ioyner,
whose wife came and cut her Nose:
Indéed no body can blame her,
she has giuen her a mark to be knowne,
And if all that will not shame her,
the Hangman has markt her for his own:
What thinke you of snuffelling
Kate,
by her many women haue smarted,
She sels Maidenheads at a rate,
oh such a old Trot would be carted.
Such cunning old sluts as she,
indéed are the ruine of many,
Such fast holding Lime-twigs they be,
that if they get hold of any,
There's no spéech at all of dismissing,
whiles money their turne can serue,
Thus whiles he his Minion is kissing,
his poore wife and children may starue:
What thinke you of
Madge that cries wheat,
she makes her poor husband shed teares,
She vseth to cozen and cheat,
but the Pillory gapes for her eares.
I heard lately how she did deale,
with a Butcher a notable blade,
Whom she guld of a quarter of Veale,
and thus she set vp her trade:
Since that she hath done many a sleight,
as bad or rather worse,
If you in her company light,
I wish you take héed of you purse:
What thinke you of quarrelling
Nan,
that will to no goodnesse be turn'd,
She threatens to kill her good man,
oh such a Queane would be burn'd.
I me sorry to heare that newes,
when man and wife are at strife:
Alas neighbour, how can you chuse,
when a man goe in danger on's life.
Loe thus we haue talkt away time,
and nowe perforce must we part,
The Market is now in the prune,
then farewell with all my heart:
Commend me to
Doll at the Crowne,
that message must not be mist,
Shée's the kindest Hostis in the towne,
oh such a Lasse would be kist.
But stay neighbour, harke you one word,
which I had forgotten before,
What heare you of little
Kate Bird,
some say she is turnd arrant whore:
Indéed neighbour I thought no lesse,
since that with her I was acquainted,
A man can no otherwise guesse,
her face is most basely painted:
She ledges with mouldy fact
Nell,
and I doubt they will neuer be parted,
'Till the one get the lash in Bridewell,
and the other from Newgate be carted.
M. P.
FINIS.
Printed at London for Thomas Lambert.