The Sailor's Wife's Policy, or, the Knowing Barber Taken in/The Wife's Answer
THE WIFE'S ANSWER.
SWeet husband I find you've done your discourse,
If I have these faults I'm ⟨sure⟩ you have worse,
To tell your wives' faults, to be sure you have none,
Yet none of you care to hear of your own:
And whatever failings in woman you see,
You shou'd mend in yourselves, it wou'd better be,
To show good examples to your poor wives,
Than lead us wretched and wearisome lives.
You often begin with a very bad plea,
And blame us for drinking of innocent tea,
Which is but refreshment our spirits to cheer,
Whilst you get drunk with wine and strong beer:
And leave us till one in the morning alone,
Then from the alehouse come staggering home,
And force me to rise out of bed with your din,
And come down in my smock for to let the set in.
Then reeling to bed until morning you lie,
You snore and you grunt like a hog in a stye,
And are cropsick and quarrelsome all the next day,
Is this to be borne, Mr. Wiseacre, pray?
Besides, in your cups I've known you to stray,
And pick up a wanton young Miss by the way,
You know 'tis not fair, I appeal unto you,
To cheat and to wrong your poor wife of her due.
You threaten me too with a very good cheer,
As banging my hide, which I never can bear;
You know the old proverb indeed without doubt,
You may beat Old Nick in but you’ll ne’er beat him out.
And if you should happen to do as you said,
Take care I don’t plant something worse on your head,
Then let us to love and to kindness incline,
You mend your faults and I will mend mine.