8
THE YOUTHFUL SQUIRE.
My father had no child but me,
And all his care continually,
Was for to have me married well,
But under fortune’s frown I fell.
For to an old miser he wedded me,
His age it was three score and three,
And I myself about seventeen;
I wish his face, I ne’er had seen.
For when that I abroad do go
To meet a friend to chat, or so;
If any man should salute me,
It more increases his jealousy.
A youthful squire did drink to me,
I pledg’d with him my modesty
Thought it no harm, yet ne’ertheless,
My husband did my shoulders dress.
And when that we do go to bed,
To reap the joys for which we wed;
He does so kick and pinch me too,
That he my limbs leaves black and blue.
Next morning when that I arose,
I straight in haste put on my clothes,
And as he lay asleep in bed,
I with a laddle broke his head.
He took a stick and at me run,
I took another———so begun.
And round the room did beat him well,
Until upon his knees he fell.
For every blow I gave him ten,
And ask’d would he jealous be again
No, no, no, no, my loving wife,
If you will now but spare my life.
