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Yet ftill into his story she would break,

With, 'Tis not fo-Pray give me leave to speak.

His friends thought this was a tyrannic rule,

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Not differing much from calling of him, Fool;

Told him he must exert himself, and be

In fact the mafter of his family.

He faid, that the next Tuesday noon would show
Whether he were the Lord at home, or no ;
When their good company he would entreat
To well-brew'd 'ale, and clean, if homely, meat
With aking heart home to his wife he goes,
And on his knees does his rafh act disclose,

And prays dear Sukey, that one day at least,
He might appear as master of the feast.

I'll grant your wifh, cries fhe, that thou may't fee "Twere wisdom to be govern'd still by me.

The guests upon the day appointed came,

Each bowfy farmer with his fimp'ring dame.

Hoe! Sue! cries Slouch, why doft not thou appear?
Are these thy manners when aunt Snap is here ?
I pardon afk, fays Sue, I'd not offend

Any my dear invites, much leís his friend..

Slouch by his kinfman Gruffy had been taught

To entertain his friends with finding fault,

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And make the main ingredient of his treat

His faying there was nothing fit to eat;
The boil'd pork stinks, the roast beef's not enough,
The bacon's rufty, and the hens are tough;

The veal's all rags, the butter's turn'd to oil;
And thus I buy good meat for fluts to spoil.
'Tis we are the first Slouches ever fate

Down to a pudding without plumbs or fat.
What teeth or ftomach's ftrong enough to feed
Upon a goofe my grannum kept to breed?
Why muft old pidgeons, and they stale, be dreft,
When there's so many squab ones in the nest?
This beer is four, this mufty, thick, and stale,
And worse than any thing except the ale.

Sue all this while many excufes made,

Some things fhe own'd, at other times fhe laid
The fault on chance, but oftner on the maid.

Then cheese was brought.

fhall roll:

Says Slouch, This e'en

I'm fure 'tis hard enough to make a bowl:
This is skim-milk, and therefore it shall go,
And this, because 'tis Suffolk, follow too.
But now Sue's patience did begin to waste,
Nor longer could diffimulation laft.

Pray

Pray let me rise, fays Sue; my dear, I'll find
A cheese perhaps may be to lovy's mind.
Then in an entry, standing close, where he
Alone, and none of all his friends might fee:
And brandishing a cudgel he had felt,
And far enough on this occafion fmelt;

I'll try, my joy, fhe cry'd, if I can please
My dearest with a taste of his old cheese.
Slouch turn'd his head, faw his wife's vigorous hand
Wielding her oaken sapling of command,

Knew well the twang: Is't the old cheese, my dear?
No need, no need of cheese, cries Slouch, I'll fwear :
I think I've din'd as well as my Lord-Mayor.

THE

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But did not in their choice of wives agree.

Clod thought a cuckold was a monstrous beast
With two huge glaring eyes and fpreading creft;
Therefore refolving never to be fuch,

Married a wife none but himself could touch.

Folt thinking marriage was decreed by fate,
Which fhews us whom to love, and whom to hate,
To a young handsome jolly lass made court,
And gave his friends convincing reason for't,

That

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That fince in life fuch mischief may be had,
Beauty had fomething still that was not bad.
Within two months fortune was pleas'd to fend
A tinker to Clod's house with Brass to ménd.
The good old wife furvey'd the brawny spark,
And found his chine was large, tho' count'nance dark.
Firft fhe appears in all her airs, then tries

The fquinting efforts of her am'rous eyes.

Much time was fpent, and much defire expreft:
At laft the tinker cry'd, Few words are best;
Give me that skillet then, and if I'm true,
I dearly earn it for the work I do.

They 'greed they parted; on the tinker goes
With the fame ftroke of pan, and twang
of nofe,
"Till he at Jolt's beheld a sprightly dame,
That fet his native vigour all on flame.

He looks, fighs, faints, at laft begins to cry,
And can you then let a young tinker die ?

Says fhe, Give me your skillet then, and try.
My skillet! Both my heart and skillet take;
I wish it were a copper for your fake.
After all this, not many days did país,
Clad fitting at Jolt's houfe furvey'd the brafs,

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