The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: Responses from Men | Page 9

Seventeen, Thinks I by that time she has Thirty seen, She'll be a
Whore in Grain; but by good hap, She dy'd within a year of Pox and
Clap.
The third Comfort of Cuckoldom.
It was my Fortune to be joyn'd to one, As pretty as was shined on by
the Sun; For on my word her Eyes were full and gray, With ruddy Lips,
round Cheeks, her Forehead lay Archt like a snowie Bank, which did
uphold Her natvie Tresses, that did shine like Gold; Her azure Veins,
which with a well sharp'd Nose, Her whiter Neck, broad Shoulders to
compose: A slender Waste, a Body strait and Tall, With Swan-like
Breasts, long Hands, and Fingers small, Her Ivory Knees, her Legs
were neat and clean, A Swelling Calf, with Ancles round and lean, Her
Insteps thin, short Heels, with even Toes, A Sole most strait,
proportion'd Feet, she goes With modest Grace; but yet her Company,
Did not a Month enjoy, before that I Was Prest for Sea, and being on
the Main, For thirty Months I then return'd again, Where finding in my
absence that my Wife Three brats had got, a most unchaste Life Both
Day and Night I led the lech'rous Whore; Who seeing how I Curst, and
Bann'd, and Swore, A Bag or two she shew'd me cramn'd with Gold,
Which Treasure I no sooner did behold, But then I Kist my loving Wife
and leapt, For very Gladness that my Horns were Tipt.
The fourth Comfort of Cuckoldom.
Above a Year or two I always thought My Wife so good that she cou'd
not be naught, Till one Night coming home I caught a Spark Sat in my
Parlor by her in the Dark, In mighty Pet I call'd for Candles strait,
Doubting that I poor Fool was come too late: T'avert the Burthen which
is made to grow On such who enters into Cuckolds Row. Hower'e as I
was thinking of the best, And as I nothing saw contented rest, My
am'rous Wife's Gallant, before he went, Did shew enough t'encrease my
Discontent For he wou'd slily pull her Petticoat, Nod, Wink, and put
into her Hand a Note, Whisper her in the Ear, or touch her Foot With
many other private Signs to boot, All which confirm'd my Jealousie the

more, And made me think 'em to be Rogue and Whore, But as I knew
my Wife a bawling Slut, My Horns into my Pocket did I put For
Quietness, which yet I seldom had, So I thro' Cuckoldom run really
Mad.
The fifth Comfort of Cuckoldom.
When I poor I unto a Wife was bound, I wish I had been Bury'd under
Ground, For to my Grief I found her both before And after Marriage
too to be a Whore. But when I found the Beast of such a Breed, I
soldier turn'd, and with a Baw'd agreed To let her out at half a Crown a
Week Who undertook she shou'd not be too seek; For Custom, but said,
she must for her pains, From th' insatiate Whore have double Gains.
The Sixth Comfort of Cuckoldom.
Finding my Wife by Whoring nothing get, But to maintain her Sparks
ran me in Debt; Her Whoring gratis made me really vext, So Shop I
shut, and fled to Holland next.
The Seventh Comfort of Cuckoldom.
While I was but into the Country gone, To give some Chapmen there
the gentle Dun Mean time a Rubbers she with some had play'd, And in
the Powd'ring Tub was quickly laid, Unknown to me, and had been
secret still, But that the Surgeon bringing in his Bill When I came
Home, the Murder so came out, And still my Wife is Whore enough I
doubt.
The Eighth Comfort of Cuckoldom.
A sordid Lecher coming very old To tempt my Spouse with Silver and
with Gold, She told me of't, and said, she cou'd not fawn, On him, or's
Gold, to lay her Soul in pawn. By this I thought her Honest, till my
maid Inform'd me shortly what Lew'd Tricks she play I Twitted then
my Wife's Hypocrisie, Who Impudently did Reply to me; Old Flesh she
Loath'd, as having in it left No Gravy, and of all it's Juice bereft, But if
the Flesh was Young and to her mind, She'd to one Dish would never

be confin'd.
The Ninth Comfort of Cuckoldom.
By my Dear Wife, in turning up her Tail To bear the Threshing of her
Gallant's Frail, A Groat (which always is a Cuckold's Fee) Under the
Candlestick I've laid for me; Besides good Peck and Booze, so till she's
Dead, She may and will Whore on to get me Bread.
The Tenth Comfort of Cuckoldom.
As Strangers flatter'd with deceitful Snow,