Page:Unfortunate son, or, A kind wife is worth gold.pdf/11

 The butter-milk on dunghill there,
 * cover’d o’er with white.

Jack thought the wthiewhite [sic] dog it had been,
 * that did bite him before,

To ſtudy now he doth begin
 * to be reveng’d therefore.

Jack he a cudgel then had got,
 * a weapon ſtout and ſtrong,

And went towards the butter-milk,
 * for to revenge his wrong.

Said he, you cur, you now ſhall know
 * I’ll be reveng’d on you

With that he gave the pot a blow,
 * which made him after rue.

The pot in pieces broke apace,
 * Jack knew not what to think.

For why the milk flew in his face,
 * and made him backwards ſhrink.

The cracking of the pot he thought
 * was the dog’s bones, and judg’d

The milk which in his face wrought,
 * to be the maſtiff’s blood.

You ill bred cur, now know, ſaid he,
 * what ’twas to wrong a man,

I think I am reveng’d on you
 * as much as e’er I can.

Let others curs a warning take,
 * how they abuſe their friends,

For much of thee I ſtill did make,
 * and had but ill amends.

His anger ſwag’d, which ſore did burn,