Page:Spaewife, or, universal fortune teller.pdf/17

 For out of twenty married pairs, Nearly all the country through, Nineteen at least, the horns must wear. And pray, why should not you.

Alas ! poor girl, though I lament your fate, I cannot save you from a husband′s hate; A tyrant lord will rule you through your life, And make you curse the wretched name of wife

To lords and great people frequenting the court, This card will most suspicious prove, To the closets of princes they’ll freely resort, And be rich in their sovereign’s love. Yet to those of low rank no good it portends, But oppression and hardship foreruns; Unkind will be all their relations and friends, Ungrateful, their daughters and sons.

Little peevish crabbed elf, Fond of no one but herself; Cross, and still for trifles striving, With her, truly there’s no living.

Though honest you look, and you may speak fair, Yet you know your a rascal in grain; For sixpence, your soul to Old Nick you’ll swear But he’ll send such a rogue back again.

If this card you should draw, return it again, Be quick, ma’am, and take my advice; For its only predictions are trouble and pain, And I hope you will not draw it twice.

This will prove a mourning card, And drown in tears the fairest face, But your fate is in no way hard, ′Tis the lot of human race.