The New German Doctor: OR, An Infallible Cure for a Scolding Wife: Performed by this most Excellent Operator, the like was never known in all Ages.
To the Tune of,
Here I love, there I love; or,
The English Travellers.
Licensed according to Order.
YOu Men that are married, I pray now attend,
Good tydings I bring you, this day as a Friend;
It will be of use to all young Men and old,
Whoever are troubl'd with Women that scold.
A Doctor of late, from the Emperor's Court,
A Person of dextrous Skill by report,
Hath taken a Chamber in
London of late,
And cures scolding Wives at a wonderful rate.
This Doctor has travell'd all
Poland and
Spain,
And now in
Great-Britain he crossed the Main:
To one Land and Nation he'll not be confin'd,
But travels the World for the good of mankind.
That Man that is plagu'd with a cross scolding Wife,
Whose railing doth make him quite weary of Life;
Pray what would be give for an absolute cure,
Before such a terrible Life he'd endure?
'Tis like ev'ry Morning when Day-light appears,
She rings him a thundring Peal in his Ears;
And makes him be glad to rouze out of the Bed,
And all by the violent noise of her Head.
Sometimes a good Husband may meet with a Friend,
And happen a panny or two pence to spend;
Then in comes the Wife, who do's thunder and bawl,
And with the Quart flaggon his Noddle doth maul.
Her Tongue is more keen than a time two-edged Sword,
Nay louder than Thunder she Peals will afford;
Instead of fond Pleasures kind Love and Delighe,
She is like a flerce Tygre, both Morning and Night.
It is an unspeakable Torment I know,
You cannot imagine what they undergo:
Who with such cross Women, their Lives now do lead,
But bring them away to the Doctor with speed.
Nay let them be never so aged or young,
This Doctor he takes out the Sting of the Tongue;
Which is the main Cause of that violent noise,
And likewise all modest Behavior destroys.
A Balsom he has of a moderate price,
Which takes off the frowns of the Face in a trites,
And makes her as mild as the innocent Dove,
And instead of railing, she's all over Love.
He hath been above seven Weeks in the Town,
And yet of young Scolds who was given to frown,
He has cur'd above Seven hundred indeed:
And some full as bad as the
Billingsgate-Breed.
There's one I will mention, liv'd near
Tower-Hill,
Who would be both fighting and quarrelling still:
From night to next morning, from morning to noon,
Her Pipes I must tell you, was always in tune.
Her Husband he heard of this Doctor of fame,
Without longer tarry, faith thither he came,
With she that was call'd
The inviacible Sh
[...]ow,
Fast bound in a Basket, for she would not go.
This Doctor he cur'd her in less than a Week,
And made her as modest, as mild, and as meek,
As any sweet Lady this day in the Land,
And so he do's all, that he e'er takes in hand.
We hear of some Quacks are for curing of Clays,
And some other common Diseases, perhaps;
But when did you hear on our vast
British shore,
Of one that cou'd cure this Distemper before!
Whoever is troubl'd this day with a Scold,
Altho' she be youthful, or fourscore years old,
'Tis all one to him, if the Cure he don't do,
He'll not have so much as one penny of you.
Now rather than any that pain shall endure,
The Poor he for little or nothing will cure;
All day at his Chamber he is to be found,
Next Do
[...]r to the
Eel's-soot in
Sallengers-Round.