A _Woman_ and _Thrushes_.
In the Days of Yore, when Men and their Wives agreed like Dog and Cat in
a House together, the Good Man had been a Shooting it seems, and brought
his Dame Home a Dozen of _Black-Birds_ with him. _Come, Sweet Heart_,
says he, _Prithee let’s have these Black-Birds to Supper. Black-Birds?_
says she, the Lord Bless us, why certainly the Man’s a Changeling. Come,
come, you shall have your Thrushes for Supper then. _Well_, says he,
_but I tell you again, I’ll have these_ Black-Birds _to Supper_. That’s
well, quoth the Woman, and I tell you Again and Again, that you shall
have these _Thrushes_ for Supper. _Prithee my Dear_, says the Man, _If I
say they are_ Black-Birds, _let ’em be_ Black-Birds: _I’ll allow you to
think they may be_ Thrushes, _but don’t contradict me_. Prithee my Dear,
says she, If I have a Fool to my Husband, is my Husband’s Wife bound to
be a Fool for Company? _Hussy, don’t Provoke me_, says the Man, _but let
the_ Black-Birds _be Dress’d, and do as I bid ye; Obey your Husband,
ye’ad best._ Lifelikins, says she, I know no more Reason I have to Obey
my Husband, then my Husband has to Obey me; and Sirrah in the Teeth of
ye, since ye are Hussying of me, no other Woman would have the Patience
to be Abus’d thus. From these _Family-Words_ they fell to _Blows_, and
there was the _Wig_ in one Corner, and the _Head-Gear_ in another: upon
the Question whether they were _Black-Birds_ or _Thrushes_. When the
Bickering was over, they went very comfortably to Bed together, and so
rubb’d on in a kind of a _Catterwalling Life_, till just _that day Twelve
Month_: And then came the History of the _Black-Birds_ and the _Thrushes_
upon the Carpet again. Ah ye Beast you, says the Woman, How did you
beat your poor Wife Sirrah, _this Day Twelve Month_ about those Damn’d
_Thrushes! Black-Birds ye Jade_, says the _One_; _Thrushes ye Rogue_,
says _t’other_: And so in one word, they play’d the same _Farce_ over
again; insomuch, that for the time they Liv’d together, the Woman had an
_Anniversary Beating_, as duly as the day of the Month came about every
Year after.
The MORAL.
——Cœlum licet & Mare Terris
Confundas, Homo sum.——_What must be, must be._