7
Ye bloody villain, she reply'd,
- don't in the least on me depend.
Begone, or as I live she cry'd,
- I for an officer will send,
I'll give you neither meat or drink,
- nor any shelter shall you have,
Of musty, lousy rage you stink.
- begone you base persidious slave,
Don't think tha I'll your conesel keep,
- or harbour any such as you:
He turn's away seem'd to weep,
- and bid the wanten Jilt adieu.
Then to his loving Wife he came,
- both poor and naked in distress,
He told her all the very same,
- yet she reliev'd him ne er the less.
My d she cry'd since it is so,
- take comfort in thy loving Wife,
All that I have shall freely go,
- to gain a pardon for thy life.
I'll lodge the in a place secure,
- where I shall daily nourish thee?
Believe me, love, you may be sure,
- to find a faithful friend in me.
When he this perfect proof had made,
- which of them two did love him best.
Unto his virtuoes Wife he said,
- my jewel set thy heart at rest,
Behold I have no servant slain!
- nor have I suffer'd any loss,
Enough I have us to mantain,
- the ocean seas no more I ll cross,
My loaded ship lies ne'er the shore,
- with gold and jewels richely fraught,
So much I never had before,
- thy penny worth of wit I've bought.
Once more he to his Harlot goes,
- with fourteen sailors brave and bold,
