Comical and entertaining dialogue, between a generous tradesman and his old stingy wife

A COMICAL

AND ENTERTAINING

DIALOGUE,

BETWEEN

A Generous Tradeſman and his old
Stingy Wife,

Concerning her locking up the Cupboard-door,
and keeping the Victuals from his Appren-
tices-

Edinburgh: Printed by J Morren.

A

DIALOGUE

Between a generous Mechanick and his old
Stingy Wife,

HEY day! what's here to do? the cupboard
door
Lock’d up! what, madam, muſt we eat no more!
Why, how now, miſtreſs wife who is it puts
This bar betwixt my victuals and my guts?
Boys, ſplit the door: why ſure, my ſaving honey
You don’t take beef and bread and cheef for,
money?

Wife

Don’t be ſo haſty, love, I mean no hurt.
Here take the key, ’tis but there asking fer’t:
Did you but ſee the waſte thoſe gluttons made.
You’d then commend me for the care I take
That ſlouching rogue that laughs at what you
ſay,
Had he his will, would eat ten times a day.
That thin-jaw’d hound too, had he but his mind,
For all his looks, would not be far behind:
Victuals, I’ll ſwear. is ill beſtow’d upon
That ſreaking whelp, that raw-bon’d ſkeleton;
Were he to eat as much as half a dozen,
The ill got lout would ſtill look ſtarv’d and
frozen.

Husband,

Therefore it ſhan’t be ſaid I keep him poor
And thin, becauſe I lock my cupboard-door:
I'll have no Smith’s embargo on my food,
Eat boys- as often as yourſelves ſee good;
Let them have change of mutton, beef, and pork,
Do you take care they feed, I'll made’em work,
My ſervants ſhall to no relations creep.
And there complain of what a houſe I keep;
Tell’em their dingy miſtreſs bears the rule,
And cry becauſe they ha’n’t a belly-full.
Let me have no ſuch doings I command,
I ſcorn to give a wife the upper-hand;
I’m maſter here, mind you your maids concerns,
No boy of mind ſhall want the food he earns.

Wife

Lord! love, you cannot think what they de-
vour
, I vow and ſwear, they’re cramming ev’ry hour?
Saw you how oft they to the cupboard come.
You’d think they’d eat you out of houſe and
home.
One gobbles down two pound of bread and
cheeſe.
When almoſt burſt toth’ vault he runs for eaſe;
From thence returns unburthen’d is a trace,
And ſluffs his empty Guts with t’other ſlice:
No ſooner is this wide-mouth’d Glutten gone,
But t’other lean jaw’d cormorant ſneaks down,
And he forſooth no cheſhire-cheeſe can eat.
Hiſ dainty chops muſt break his faſt with meat,
Then out be pulls his knife, and off he cuts
A pound of beef for his inſatiate guts,
which his ſtretch’d gullet ſwallows down ſo faſt,
As if he meant each bit ſhould prove his laſt:
For in three minutes Farly he’ll devour
More than would laſt an hungry dog an hour,
Straining with morſels ſo preſuſely great.
You'd think him choak’d with ev’ry bit he eat
I hus all day long, like buckets in a well
They take their tains to empty and to fill;
And is it fit, d’ye think, ſuch wolves as theſe,
Should ſearch and range the cupbord when they
pleaſe.

Husband.

Yes, yes much good may do’em with there
meat,
I never care how faſt my ſervants eat,
Speedy at victuals, quick at work's an old
Proverbial ſaying, we have oft been told;
I’ve found it true, and therefore do not grutch
Their eating nimbly, tho’ tis ne’er ſo much:
I’ll warr’nt you’d have them loiter at their
meals.
Piddle like mice and crawl about like ſnails.
Feed like ſick patients dietted by quacks,
And look like hide-bound tits that carry packs.
Work too like thoſe that raiſe the wooden walls
Of the queen’ſ ſhips or laſy rogues in paul's:
No, no my'maſter's methods I’ll purſue,
That’s feed’em well, and make’em work ſo too;
For he that ſtints his fervants in their food,
Makes the bad worſe, and irritates the good,
That what he thinks be ſaveſ they caſt away,
And made his ſtock their punch-gut money pay

Wife

Do as you pleaſe, my dear but I am ſure,
Such waſtful ways will always keep us poor;
Apprenrices I’ve ſeen in other trades,
Have their meat carv’d by th' miſtreſs or her
maidſ,
Nor did they dare to grumble or complain,
That this was cut too fat or that or too lean,
But eat whate'er the mistrels thought was fit
And fear'd to frown, or ask for t'other bit;
But your bold boys, regarded not your wife.
Whcn call'd to dine, each draws his crooked
knife,
Upon the groundcel whets his Sheffield blade,
Aad both, forſooth, fit down before my maid,
Fall to like plowmen at a country feaſt,
And with unhallow'd fingers pick the beſt;
One crying oat, go. Hannah, draw ſome beer,
Tne other, huſſy, bring the muſtard here.
Indeed, my dear, it is a ſhame- to ſee
Apprentices ſo very bold and free,
Or that at meals ſuch boys ſhould firſt ſit down,
And crow above a wench that’s woman grown.

Husband.

My boys are good mens ions, well born and
bred.
They’ve paid me pounds for teaching them my
trade,
Beſides, they earn me ev’ry day they dine
Not only their own bread but yours and mine;
Yet, I ſuppoſe you want to have'em made
Meet ſlaves and footboys to your naſty Jade,
To run toth’ chandlers for the mops and
brooms.
And ſetch her water when ſhe ſcrubs her rooms,
Be her coleheavers to preſerve her hands,
And ſtoop to all her prodigal commands;
If that's your drift, my parſimonious dame,
I ſhall take care to disſppoint your aim;
No fancy baggage fonl'd by a fool,
Shall awe my ſervants, or my boys controul;
I'd have you know I keep ſuch ſluts as ſhe,
To wait on them at meals as well as me;
I give her yearly wages, and you ought
To know their work enables me to do't;
My golden boys earn money ev'ry day
By them I live and thrive, eat, drink and pay;
Therefore yonrſelf and ſervile puſs ſhall find,
No lads of mine your female pride ſhall mind;
That maſter, sure muſt be a hen-peck'd fool,
Who lets the women o'er his men bear rule;
'Tis hard that good mens children, bound to
trades,
Shou'd be made lacqueys to our wives and maids,
But in thoſe tradeſmen houſes 'twill be ſo,
Where men are ſilent and the women crow.

Moral Reflexions on the foregoing dialogue.

THE prudent maſter, who allows
His ſervants what is fitting,
Shews by his conduct that he knows,
Hard work requires good eating.
The maſter ſeldom thrives in trade,
Who keeps a ſneaking table,
Apprentices are thereby made
Leſs willing and leſs able.
Whilſt thoſe who feed’em with good fare,
By ſervants are befrinded.
Have all their work diſpaſhed with care,
And in due ſeaſon ended.
But where a wife ſhall rule the roaſt,
Whoſe temper’s too penurious,
What ſhe believes ſhe ſaves, is loſt,
And only proves injurious
No ſervants, in revenge, will waſte
The food that they’re in love of,
But into holes will ſlily caſt
The meat they don't approve of.
Beſides, he gains an honeſt name,
Who makes his ſervants eaſy,
If you are kind they’ll be the ſame,
And ſtrive the more to pleaſe ye.

FINIS.