If she were mine, and had such tricks,
I'd teach her how to handle sticks:
Z—ds! I would ship her to Jamaica,
Or truck the carrion for tobacco:
I'd send her far enough away —
Dear Will; but what would people say?
Lord! I should get so ill a name,
The neighbours round would cry out shame.
Dick suffer'd for his peace and credit;
But who believ'd him when he said it?
Can he, who makes himself a slave,
Consult his peace, or credit save?
Dick found it by his ill success,
His quiet small, his credit less.
She serv'd him at the usual rate;
She stunn'd, and then she broke his pate:
And, what he thought the hardest case,
The parish jeer'd him to his face;
Those men, who wore the breeches least,
Call'd him a cuckold, fool, and beast.
At home he was pursu'd with noise;
Abroad was pester'd by the boys:
Within, his wife would break his bones;
Without, they pelted him with stones;
The 'prentices procur'd a riding[1],
To act his patience, and her chiding.
False patience and mistaken pride!
There are ten thousand Dicks beside;
Slaves to their quiet and good name,
Are us'd like Dick, and bear the blame.
- ↑ A well-known humourous cavalcade, in ridicule of a scolding wife and henpecked husband.
