The Batchelors Delight, Being a pleasant new Song, shewing the happiness of a single life, and the miseries that do commonly attend Matrimony.
To the Tune of the Kings delight, or, The young mans advice to his fellow Batchelors.
THe world's a Blister sweld with care
much like unto a Bubble,
Wherein poor men tormented are
with women and with trouble,
And every one that takes a wise.
Adds sorrow to his life;
and makes his burden double.
Whilst
Adam was a Batchelor,
in
Eden he did tarry.
It is an
Eden upon earth,
to live and never marry,
Oh, then what cause have wee to grieve,
To think upon our mother
Eve,
Who made us all miscarry
Sampson, they say, was a Champion stout,
that fill'd the world with wonder:
The proud
Philistians be did rout,
his blows did sound like Thunder;
But when he courted false
Dallila,
The wicked whore did him betray;
and so he was brought under,
Job was a man that open lay,
unto the spight of the Devil,
Who took his goods and Sons away;
but could we count him civil,
Because he left him still his Nurse,
Oh no! he left her for a curse,
she was his greatest evil.
A woman once was hang'd on a Trée,
and some the Rope were cutting,
Diogenes this sight did sée,
and spoke unto them strutting
Would every Trée such fruit would bear,
If so, fond fools those young men are,
that e're would go a nutring.
A Theef once rode up
Holborn-hill,
towards
Oliver Cromwells Pallace;
A Maid that bore him some good will,
had begg'd him from the Gallows,
Ah no, (quoth he) I'le go to the Gibb,
And not be a Slave to my own rib,
drive on the Cart-good fellows.
Marriage is Honourable indeed,
but tell mee what's house keeping
It makes the good mans Pockets bleed;
his purse is alwaies weeping,
Nay more, hee's alwaies full of care,
Whilst he that is a Batchelor,
Is fast and soundly sleeping,
A Froward woman takes delight,
to see her Husband-vexed,
Both morning, evening, noon and night,
the poor man is perplexed,
She brawls and scoulds, she frowns and pouts
And to her speeches scoffs and stouts,
are ever more annexed.
Though he hath been at work all day,
as hard as he is able
Yet when he comes home without delay,
she bids him rock the Cradle,
And if he doth the same refuse,
The durty Quean will him abuse,
and beat him with the Ladle.
He cannot quietly rest in bed,
but every little season,
The Childe doth cry and must be sed,
and then she saith 'tis reason,
That he should do't, and let her sleep,
The poor man he must silence keep,
for talking would be Treason.
Then certainly a Batchelors life,
is a most precious Treasure
He that doth suddenly marry a wife,
will surely repent it at leisure
For when he hath been snub'd and curb'd
And almost all the night disturb'd,
Yet must he rise at her pleasure.
Robin (quoth she) 'tis time to rise,
and thumps him on the shoulder,
The Hogs wants swilling in the sties,
at length she speaketh bolder:
Calling him Fool and Logger-head
And with her feet quite out of the bed,
she thrusts the poor house-holder,
And therefore he that weds a mate,
is like a horse in a Tether,
Marriage and hanging go by fate,
and therefore chuse you whether,
For the three destinies have spun
Knots for
Hymen and for
Dun,
then let them go together.
Man is a little world of himself,
and therefore wanteth nothing,
He needs not care for worldly pelf,
so he have food and cloathing,
And marriage is a fickle thing,
Which sometime doth in love begin,
and often ends in loathing,
And therefore I will single live,
in spight of lust and passion,
Pure Virgins good examples give,
and worth our imitation
For before Matrimony arose,
The mode of wearing yellow hose,
and horns were out of fashion.
And lastly to conclude my song,
vain joy is but a Bubble,
A double heart, and a double tongue
hath stil'd the world with trouble
[...]
And therefore to avoid all strife,
'Tis best to lead a single life,
wee will have nothing double.
Finis.
London printed for F, G. on Snow-hil