( 3 )
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.
