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 Our ſervant-maids are now ſo proud,

they do reſemble their Ladies near,

They have ſo many new made dreſſes,

they ſcarce can tell what garb to wear.

Painting and patches for their faces,

in the faſhion they muſt be;

The pooreſt wife in all the town,

each morning ſhe muſt have her tea.

Our men are grown ſo void of reaſon,

often leaves their wedded wife,

Cauſing for to keep up a miſs,

they're weary'd of a marry'd life.

Women for to leave their huſbands,

is not that a double ſin,

Enough to bring on us a judgement,

and conſume the land we're in.

O grant us peace and unity,

for certainly we may conſider,

That now the world is near an end,

for each man ſtrives to cheat another.