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THE PATIENT COUNTESS

IMPATIENCE changeth smoak to flame
 But jealousy is hell:
Some wives by patience have reduc’d,
 ill husbands to live well;
As did the Lady of an earl,
 Of whom I now shall tell.

An earl there was had wedded, lov’d,
 Was lov’d and lived long
Full true to his fair Countess, yet
 At last he did her wrong.
Once hunted he untill the chace,
 falling and the heat,
Did house him in a parish grange,
 Within a forest great.

Where known and welcom’d, (as the place,
 And persons might afford)
Brown bread, whig, bacon, curds, and milk,
 Were set him on the board.
A cushion made of lilts, a stool
 Half backed with a hoop.
Were brought him and he sitteth down,
 Beside a sorry coup.

The poor old couple wish’d their bread
 Were wheat, their whig were perry,
Their bacon beer, their milk and cruds
 Were cream to make him merry.