FATHER

A couple of good huswives, the mother and the daughter, To stand prating here all the day long: What time of night shall we go to supper? Every day I must be feign to sing one song. A Pedlar, marry the more naughty pack thou, Hast thou nothing else to do but with a Pedlar to prate: Get thee home, thou ill favoured Sow, It were well done to beat thee about the pate. Friend, whereas you spoke of my daughters marriage, I am not of that mind that many and other man is, Chastity with Gods help is a light carriage, And therefore in this, I think I do not greatly amiss; To marry my daughter I am half in doubt, I will tell you other nations are so scattered about: That marriages, that I do not greatly allow. I and mine ancestors were English men born, And though I be but a simple man, To marry my daughter to and Alian I think soorne, And therefore I keep her from it, so long as I can. A Pedlar going about to fell lies: I think of them you have more plenty, than you have beware, Such fellows do nothing else but devise Tales and Fables, and such Lemers as these are. I love none of this bibble babble I, by this light, Pedlar hast thou any pure spectacles to fell? I would have a pair that were of and old sighed, For I am above threescore and ten, to you I may tell. He shall be welcome, but our cheer is but small, But yet he shall be sure of bacon and a piece of souse. Now by troth, because you speak of a song, won I was young, I passed the Lark, and pleasant Nightingale: Like and Angel I would have sung, And specially when my throat had been well washed with good Ale, Woman, woman, get you home at once, And see that we have good cheer to night. Then may you be one of their wives: Get you home and help your mother. Goodman Pedlar, if I wist you would not be angry, To ask you a question I would be bold. I pray you tell me, are you a Pedlar by your occupa cion I judge you rather to be a man of science. By my troth, there thou hitst the nail on the head. Dream do you say? Lord how I dream every night: Sometime I dream that I am dead, And sometime that I am young, lusty, and light. A boy of and hundred year, marry sir, here is a toy: By God Pedlar, all that thou sayest is not true: How can one of and hundredth year old be a boy, That is all Like as and old garment could be a new. Age is right honourable, the Preacher does say, By God Pedlar, you had not needs to dispraise age: There was never less reverence then is at this day, For very children now presume against the sage. I marvel where you had all this gear, You have a great deal of this other men lack. I will see some of your beware anon, by your leave, Come, come, I pray you let us go hence.