And brings his Gray-Hairs with Sorrow to the Grave.


_The Sixth Comfort,_ &c.

The next in course is he that weds a Shrew;
One that will talk, and wear the Breeches too;
Governs, insults, do's what e'er she thinks fit,
And he good Man, must to her Will submit;
Mannages all Affairs at home, abroad,
While he a Cypher seems, and stands for naught;
When e'er he speaks, she snaps him, and crys,
_Pray hold your Tongue, who was't made you so wife?
You will be prating, though you nothing know:_
This he must bear, and be contented too,
See his Friends slighted, and must silent be,
Till Death shall from the Torment set him free.


_The Seventh Comfort,_ &c.

Another that has liv'd some Years in Peace,
A wedded Life--do's now in strength decrease,
Nor able is to satisfie that Debt,
Which Marriage claims, and Women still expect,
Wherefore she now withdraws her Love and Care,
Reviles, and twits him of his Slights to her;
Makes it a daily Quarrel, flings and throws,
And Peace is now a Stranger to his House;
Nay, even his Servants, and his Children too,