Courage in an instant: for I let her know her Tittle-Tattle
would be all in vain; and that I was resolv'd I would be absolute. Shall I
be ty'd by such a one as she? No, Love, I scorn it. And for her Tongue, let
me alone to tame it: _Winter_ is coming on and then I'll make her keep her
breath to warm her hands; for she shall have from me no other firing. Let
her rail on, and see what she can get by't; whilst thee and I delight our
selves in Pleasures; I'll be no Slave to that which I possess: Come, thou
art mine, and shalt have what thou wilt; my Love to thee is more then to my
Heir: shall I live sparing for a Brood of Bratts, that for my Means wish me
in my Grave! No, I know better things: I will my self enjoy it while I
live, for when I'm gone, the World is gone with me: Thou hast my heart, my
Dear, and I'll not leave thee; tho' she shou'd Chat until her Tongue be
weary. I'll find another way to make her quiet; or she shall have but very
small Allowance: She tells me, Grief will kill her very shortly: I wish it
wou'd, I shou'dn't grutch the Charges of giving her a Coffin and a Grave.

I (_says the Coaxing Jilt_) I like you now. Do as you say, and then I'll
warrant you, you'll quickly make the Flirt submit her self: And win my
heart for ever.

Thus they continu'd Revelling and Spending, whilst his poor Wife went with
a hungry Belly, and her small Children almost wanted Bread; which with the
grief she took to see her Husband unreclaimable cast her into a fit of
Sickness; which in a few days brought her to her Grave, to the great Grief
of her poor Children and her Neighbours, who all Lamented her: But to the
great Joy of her Scotish Husband and the Graceless Quean that he
maintain'd, who now thought all their own, and that they might Sin on
without Controul. But tho his Vertuous Wife wanted an _Elegy_, she shall
not want an _Epitaph_:

HER EPITAPH.

_Here lies the poor Remains of a good Wife,_
_Who through an unkind Husband lost her life:_
_Tho' she was vertuous, yet he kept her poor;_
_And spent his Substance on a filthy Whore._
_Whilst she in vain of him implor'd Relief,_
_She sunk beneath a weighty Load of Grief:_
_Which Death perceiving, prov'd her kindest Friend,_
_And lent his Aid to bring her to her End:_
_Which if her Husband does not now lament,_
_He shall (when 'tis too late) at last Repent._
_And tho' he revels now without controul,_
_Yet she shall Sing, when 'tis his tu