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6 Euery day I labour sore
and earne my food with sweating, Yet all the thankes I haue therefore,
is nought vnlesse 't be a beating. What I haue earn'd all day,
(alas) I speakt with sorrow, The knaue at night takes all away,
to spend vpon the morrow.
7 And glad am I to please him so,
If I might but Hue quiet: While he doth to the Ale-house goe,
I worke to get his dyet. Though my labour earnes the meat,
I nor my little daughter, Till he hath done, dare nothing eate,
but dine (like seruants) after.
8 When he comes home drunke at night,
if supper be not drest, Most diuellishly heele raile and fight,
though humbly I request Him to be patient,
but there is no such matter, And if the meat doe not him content,
heele breake my head with the platter.
9 I like a seruile bond-slaue,
doe wipe his boots and shooes, And yet the domineering knaue,
so basely doth me vse,1 That if one spot on them he find,
about my head heele beat them, And if with words I shew my mind,
I were as good to eat them.
1 Text has a period.