FORTUNE's BOUNTY: OR, AN Everlasting Purse FOR THE Greatest Cuckold in the Kingdom.  
LONDON, Printed; and are to be Sold by B. Bragge, at the Blue-Ball in Ave-Mary-Lane.   

FORTUNE'S BOUNTY: OR, AN Everlasting Purse FOR THE Greatest Cuckold in the Kingdom.  

IN wicked Times, when wanton Wives  
Led injured Husbands wretched Lives,  
Blind Fortune in a generous Mood,  
Resolved to do some Cuckold Good;  
But being a purblind Female Creature,  
And of a fickle wavering Nature,  
She could not readily agree  
What the kind Benefit should be,  
Or, who have Title to receive  
The Noble Prize she meant to give.  
Thus puzzled as she Musing sat,  
Confounded quite 'twixt, who and what:  
At last remembr'ing 'twas a faued  
To do great things with little thought,  
She to some lonely Cloud retired  
To Think, as Matters well required.  
The Wise use great deliberation,  
Ever they bestow a large Donation.  
Lord May'rs are seldom over speedy  
In building Alms-Huts for the Needy;  
But take seven Years Consideration,  
About the Pious Works Foundation;  
Nay little Benefits we find  
Come slow, when done with half a Mind.  
The Saint will Fumble near an Hour,  
And have some Witness by before  
He'll give his Farthing to the Poor;  
That they may praise the Nigards' Bounty,  
And blaze the Wonder through the County,   

But Fortune after some confusion,  
Came in short time to a conclusion,  
And made this following resolution.  
Which was, that every Married Noddy,  
Tongue Leased and Governed by his Dowdy,  
Tormented with eternal Clamour,  
More noisy than a Pewt'rer's Hammer;  
And every peevish tortured Spouse  
That wears his Corns upon his Brows,  
And raves to think he cannot mend  
The failing of his Wife's lower end:  
Also the Patient and the Wise  
Who smother all their Injuries  
Committed 'twixt Adulterous Thighs,  
And kindly Father without fretting,  
A Brood of G— d knows whose begetting.   

These Fortune had resolved to Summon,  
But each t'appear without his Woman;  
Lest Female Tongues should spoil the sport,  
And make the Crowd turn Dover-Court.   

Her Edicts signed with her own Name  
Were scattered all abroad by Fame,  
Declaring what she had designed  
For the most Wretched of Mankind:  
As to the place of Rendezvous,  
For every Horned unhappy Spouse,  
She Bearing Cuckoldom in Mind,  
Guild-Hall was by the Dame assigned  
Most fit above all other places,  
For Cucks and Cots to show their Faces.   

The merry time at last drew near,  
On which the Bucks were to appear;  
Dame Fortune at the hour appointed,  
Attired like any Lord's Anointed,  
In Robes of a Camelian Dye,  
That changed in the twinkling of an Eye;  
Was sometimes Red, and sometimes Blue,  
But altered still to something new;  
Showing by Colours variation  
Women are subject to mutation.  
Yet notwithstanding of their ranging,  
They always are the same, that's changing;  
A pair of Horns of wondrous size,  
All Gold to dazzle Humane Eye;,  
Made full of Antlers Buds and Sprouts,  
In Foster-Lane or there abouts,  
By some, if Folks don't falsely Jeer 'em  
That have no little Right to wear 'em;  
Were carried on a lofty Pole  
Before Queen Fortune to the Hall,  
Just as his Custard Cap. does bear  
The Sword before the City mayor;  
In mighty Pomp she passed along  
Attended with abnumerous Throng,  
Gathered together by degrees,  
From th' Four and Twenty Companies.  
At last into the Hall she came,  
Where all paid Rev●rence to the Dame.  
She gazed around, and as they Bowed  
To th' Horns, she Curt'sied to the Crowd.  
At last it pleased her fickle Grace.  
To find her Jilting Bum a place:  
The Court of Conscience being clear  
Of Business, she Ascended there;  
And on the Bench, OH fie upon her!  
She clapped her Tail, that is, her Honour.  
For Female Honour you must know  
Is humbly seated very low;  
Therefore high Conscientious Places  
Do not become a nunquam satis.  
However, there the Gipsy stayed,  
And sat as modest as a Maid;  
With her huge Gilded Mace before her,  
Which caused the Cuckolds to adore her.  
Thus seated on the Bench alone,  
Like Playhouse Queen on slit-deal Throne:  
Such Crowds came staring in and gaping,  
Even from Westminster and Wapping,  
That sure the Hall was ne'er more full  
Of City Stags at Sheriffs Poll.  
Vintners and Vict'lers flocked in shoals,  
Made graceful by their flowing Bowls;  
Whose Heads become the noble Crest,  
So far exceeding all the rest,  
That the whole Herd aloud cried out,  
They never ought t' appear without.   

Lawyers in Droves flowed in as fast  
As if the Term had not been past,  
But hide their Horns beneath their Gowns,  
And so incurred Dame Fortune's Frowns;  
But rather than they'd spoil the Jest,  
At last they wore them like the rest,  
Which made the Black-robed Tribe appear  
Like Oxen driving to a Fair;  
However they resolved to try  
For Fortune's Favour by and by,  
Well knowing that their Wedded Evils  
Had Tails like Goats, and Tongues like Devils,  
And that they'd all the Plagues of Life  
That Man could meet with in a Wife.   

Our Teachers too their Horns exalting,  
Some young and brisk, some old and halting;  
Flowed in from every part o'th' Nation,  
As thick as at a Visitation;  
All filled with hopes, and well prepared,  
To show what cursed Shrews they'd Married.  
The angry Crowd, in great disdain,  
Cried out the Clergy of all Men  
Should not b'admitted to complain,  
Because their Function were the first  
That made us Mortals thus accursed,  
And that they punished Fornication,  
And brought D— ned Wedlock into fashion.  
But Fortune minding not the Crowd,  
Most humbly to the Clergy bowed,  
And told them (though she ne'er designed it)  
She'd be their Friend, and they should find it.  
They thanked her for the Grace she'd done 'em,  
But found it was but a Jest upon 'em.   

In numbers flocked Physicians too,  
Who knew not how to tame a Shrew,  
Or cure for th' ease of their own Lives,  
The Falling Evil in their Wives;  
Who when their Frenzies were upon 'em,  
And on their backs their Fits had thrown 'em,  
They could not rise, least Folks belly 'em,  
Whilst any Man was standing by 'em;  
But heave and pant, and wink and pink,  
And breath so short that one would think  
Who did but see their Freaks transacted  
That they were Dying or Distracted.   

Besides the swarms I mention here,  
All sorts of Traders did appear;  
For no degrees of Men can be  
From Cuckoldom and Av'rice free;  
Therefore most Husbands had pretence  
To Fortune's kind Benevolence.  
The Hall was crowded in a Minute,  
That not one more could squeeze within it.  
Then Fortune, loud as she could bawl,  
Commanded Silence in the Hall;  
And rising up, from off her Breech,  
She standing made this generous Speech.   

My Lords and Genrry that appear  
According to my Summons here,  
I'm hither come, with Joy to meet ye,  
And with sincere Affection great ye,  
I must confess, your good alone  
'Twas brought me hither, not my own,  
And you shall always surely find,  
(Tho' some, perhaps, are so unkind,  
To think me of a fickle Mind.)  
My Heart not Foreign, but Domestic;  
Not Popish, but Ecclesiastic.  
With that the Churchmen standing ready,  
Bowed low and cried, Your Servant Lady.  
Hoping by this their good Behaviour,  
To win the Dame and curry Favour;  
But they, alas, were at a loss,  
In thinking to her Love engross;  
For Fortune's kindness wasn't expressed  
To them alone, but all the rest:  
After some pause she thus again  
Began, and made the Matter plain:  
All you that bear the heavy Curse  
Of, The Grey Mare the better Horse;  
Or wear the Failing of your Spouses,  
A small degree above your Noses,  
Let every one his Grievance show,  
That I the naked Truth may know.  
And he who is in Wedlock joined  
To the worst plague of Womankind,  
And leads the most confounded Life  
That e'er did Man with hellish Wife;  
Let her be either Young or Old,  
Fair, Homely, Sluttish, Whore, or Scold;  
Or he be Churchman or Dissenter,  
A Trimmer, Puritan, or Ranter;  
Or neither Whig, or yet a Tory,  
But does in Moderation glory;  
Let him be Libertine or Saint,  
So that he's but a Protestant,  
And he alone, to ease his Curse,  
Shall have a neverfailing Purse;  
Besides this forked golden Prize,  
Of such a large and ample size  
That 'twill adorn and grace the Hall  
Of the best Noble of you all;  
Therefore disclose the wretched Lives  
You bear with your unruly Wives,  
That I may judge among you all,  
On whom my Bounty ought to fall.  
The Dons and Comes could not agree  
At first about Precedency;  
But such Debates and Feuds arose,  
As if their Words would end in Blows;  
Each pelting each with all their Lies  
Their Heat and Malice could devise:  
Wise Men stood by and shook their Noddles,  
To hear their Betters such Tom-doodles;  
Whilst all the dull unthinking Rabble,  
Seemed much delighted with the Squabble;  
And thereupon the Fools divided,  
And with the differing Parties sided;  
Some for the Dons declared their Zeal,  
Some for the Comes were Tooth and Nail;  
Bad Words were scartered at no rate,  
The Hall was turned to Billingegate  
And every Blockhead in the Crew,  
Espoused one Party of the two,  
Tho' very few could tell for whi●  
They roared down this, or cried up that.  
But since ill Men had made a 〈◊〉  
They would be of one side or other.  
Just so it is in Hookley Hole  
When Rose and Brindle fight the Bult:  
Some on the Dogs will set their Heart,  
Some take the horned Champion's part.  
When thus disposed, the Rabble-Rout  
Soon find occasion to fall out:  
Then Fools and Dogs and Bulls and Bears,  
Fall all together by the Ears,  
Whilst wiser Men securely sit,  
And overlook the wrangling Pit,  
Keep silent Tongues, no Party take,  
But view the Sport the Puppies make.   

The Feud grew higher still and higher,  
For Knaves and Fools increased the Fire,  
Poets and Scribblers watched their Waters,  
And plied them with Lampoons and Satyrs,  
Each drew his Pen in Rhyme or Prose,  
To serve his Friends or scourge his Foes,  
Whose Follies yet were never shown  
Apart, without the Author's own.  
Which did to Men of judgement's view,  
Seem always greatest of the two.  
However, rather than conceal  
Their Faults, they would their own reveal.  
The Reason's plain, for you must know it's  
The Talon of our modern Poets,  
With stupid Malice to delight ye,  
Because the Jarring envious City,  
Will not be pleased with what is Witty.  
Thus Libels publicly were cried,  
And flew about from side to side,  
The common People to incense,  
And aggravate the difference.   

Dame Fortune, with her purblind Eyes,  
Beholding such a Storm arise,  
Grew Jealous that some Ill was meant,  
To interupt her good Intent;  
Therefore in hopes to heal the Breach,  
She made this reconciling Speech.  
My Dons and Comes I'm much perplexed,  
To see your Gravities thus vexed;   

And that the hopes of my poor Favour,  
Should make you use this strange behaviour;  
What though I can bestow upon you,  
A never failing Flux of money,  
And as I'm Fortune, am the Donor,  
Of Plenty, Power, Wealth, and Honour;  
Yet since to my great Grief I find,  
Such Av'rice reigning in each Mind,  
All you that hope to gain the Prize,  
By spreading Calumnies and Lies,  
And Rave and Quarrel so about it,  
Upon my word shall Go without it,  
For shame let me no more behold,  
Such mighty Men contend for Gold,  
After so turbulent a fashion,  
That makes you Odious to the Nation;  
For though you'd fain persuade the Crowd,  
You squabble for the public Good,  
Yet to all wisemen it appears,  
That Interest sets you by the Ears,  
Therefore I beg that for the future,  
You will not make this shameful Clutter,  
Or widen such injurious Breaches  
About priority of Speeches,  
Since 'twill b'expected by the rest  
He that speaks least, should speak the best;  
Therefore, as you have often seen  
At Crowning of a King or Queen,  
The lowest Rank do first appear,  
And leave the highest in the Rear;  
So the same Mode they use in Walking  
I hope you will observe in Talking.  
Therefore proceed as I direct,  
And you shall find I'll not neglect  
To do that Justice you expect.   

This Speech (although there's little in it)  
Made them good Friends in half a minute;  
That all cried out in voce una,  
God save the mighty Queen Fortuna.   

The whole Assembly being pleased,  
And all their Heats and Feuds appeased,  
A Fleetstreet Vintner in the Crowd,  
Opened his Case, but first he Bowed.   

Madam, says he, upon my Life  
 got the Devil of a Wife;  
She's Lustful, Ugly, and she's Old,  
And besides these, a Cursed Scold,  
Her Crabbed Looks, the Parish knows it,  
Will turn new Milk into a Posset.  
When I am kind she's still so base,  
Her Eyes dash Verjuice in my Face,  
Nay, Pepper dwells upon her Tongue,  
Which she shakes o'er me all day long;  
No Smithfield Cook sure e'er abused,  
Or used Roast-Beef as I am used;  
Besides, I can with safety swear  
The Jade confounds me every Year  
A Hundred Pounds more than is fitting  
In Dainty Bits for her own Eating;  
And Drinks, I may with Justice say,  
Two Quarts of Palm Wine every day;  
But that which I resent most ill,  
And is of all the bitterest Pill  
When she's got Drunk, the Whore of Whores  
Turns up her Honour to my Drawers,  
And picks my Pocket of my Pelf,  
To make them Richer than myself.  
With that he Sighed, and wiped his Eyes,  
And cried he hoped such Miseries  
Might give him Title to the Prize.   

When this his sad Complaint was heard,  
All the Blue Squadron gaped and stared,  
And though the major party had  
Such Wives that were profusely Bad;  
Yet none could say he had a worse,  
So every one concealed his Curse,  
Sneaked off their Horns, as prudence bid 'em,  
And underneath their Aprons hid 'em,  
Believing their Cornuted Brother  
Must bear the Bell from all the other.  
Next him a Doctor of the Body,  
A mighty Spruce Cornutede Noddy,  
Advanced and humbly did beseech  
Dame Fortune to observe his Speech.   

Madam, says he, upon my Honour  
I have a Spouse, a Pox upon her,  
So Lustful, that I'm sure her Tail is  
As hot as Lapis Infernalis.  
'Tis troubled with a Wolfish Evil,  
And eats Raw Flesh like any Devil,  
Gobbles up Handfuls at a time,  
Yet thinks the Gluttony no Crime.  
Tho' I must needs confess 'tis true  
It has no Teeth and cannot Chew;  
Yet will it mumble it so about  
Till it has sucked the Goodness out,  
And that small Cud which does remain  
It Spits as Nauseous out again;  
Yet raves the next succeeding Minute  
For more, as if the Devil was in it.  
I Feed the Vulture all I can,  
But 'tis too much for one poor Man.  
It therefore will have change of Diet,  
Yet all won't keep the Monster quiet;  
And if these Plagues deserve no Favour,  
Old Nick take Wife and Prize together.   

The rest of th' Aesculapian Grew  
At this course Plea looked very blue;  
They all expecting to have heard  
A Speech becoming of a Bard.  
Some hemmed and hawed, whilst others vexed,  
And no one cared to venture next.  
A cunning Fox of great renown,  
Wrapped up in Legislative Gown,  
Finding the Quacks were not agreed  
About what Brother should succeed,  
Steping 'twixt Fortune and the Crowd,  
Clyed, Madam, by your leave, and Bowed;  
Then upright as an Arrow stood,  
Stuck Thumbs i'th' Waist-band of his Breeches,  
And balked the Doctors of their Speeches.   

Madam, says he (and looks upon her)  
I'm much beholding to your Honour,  
For I must needs confess in Truth  
 been your Favourite from my Youth;  
Yet though I'm now so highly mounted,  
And have at Westminster been counted  
So Just and Wise through all my Life,  
I'm almost Gallyed with a Wife.  
What though I'm learned in every Cause,  
And long have doted on the Laws,  
Yet could I never find out one  
To make the Gipsy hold her Tongue,  
An Age  Pleaded at the Bar  
And am no puny Orator,  
Yet though she's Old, my Jangling Gillian  
Will still out-Talk me by a Million,  
And for one Word I Speak, she musters  
Whole Troops, and pelts my Ears by clusters.  
Therefore kind Lady Fair, cries he,  
I hope to ease my Misery.  
You will to me the Purse impart,  
For I love God with all my Heart.  
Fortune replied she'd be his Friend,  
And do him Justice in the end.   

A Parson next of wondrous Note,  
Betwixt a Polecat and a Stoate,  
Advanced with very Sickly look,  
Hemmed thrice, and thus to Fortune Spoke.   

Madam, I come not here to Preach,  
Or show my Elegance of Speech;  
Nor shall I now maintain that Schism,  
Which some Men call Socinianism:  
Or teach you how a Man that's Crafty,  
May take Oaths promise and con with safety.  
In short I'm come to give you notice,  
In verbo vero Sacerdotis;  
That no poor Mortal of my Function  
Was ever under more Compunction;  
Not for my own Erroneous Life,  
But for the Failing of my Wife,  
Who has a Tongue that Squalls and Bawls  
As loud as any Bell in Paul's.   

At meals instead of Grace she'll sit  
And scold before and after Meat,  
Nay, find more seasons every day,  
To rave than I can do to Pray;  
And rants with such a taunting Air,  
Adsnouns sh'would make a Parson swear.  
Besides, as I'm a Priest and Sinner,  
I dare not take a Friend to Dinner,  
Or show that Love to a poor Brother,  
We ought to bear to one another,  
Lest she, my good Intent to Cross,  
Should give our meat such sour sauce,  
That meeting with a Tongue so Evil,  
My Friend should think me so uncivil,  
To make him Mess-mate with the Devil.   

Believe me 'twas alone her Tongue,  
That awed my Conscience all along,  
And made me such a wavering Priest,  
That I become a Common Jest;  
But who that's wedded to a scold,  
Can blame me now the Truth is told?  
For while Man's Man's so plagued and nettled?  
How should his Conscience e'er be settled?   

With that the Crowd both hissed and smiled,  
And all his acquaint Oration Spoiled,  
Crying aloud since he had hung  
His Faith upon so vile a Tongue,  
They hoped the Devil would adapt her,  
To plague him to the end o'th' Chapter.  
Besides they cried, it was not fit,  
That he who had so little Wit,  
To let his Wives tempestuous Tongue  
His Reason sway 'twixt Right and Wrong,  
Should in a Pious Christian Nation  
Be trusted with a Congregation,  
And that the puny Wretch that knew  
Not how to teach and tame a Shrew,  
Must needs before his Wife Preach Booty,  
And oft through Fear evade his Duty;  
For how should he that has a Scold  
Of's own, and dare not be so bold  
To scourge her Failing any one day  
Reclaim Five Hundred on a Sunday?   

This Rub made all the Gownsmen sneak,  
Who found 'twas now in vain to Speak,  
Touched with this close sarcastic Scoff,  
They doped their Heads, and so slid off;  
Renounced the Prize, and left the Hurry  
Went some to Christian, some to Mary,  
Some to Read Prayers, and some to Bury.   

No sooner were the Blackbirds Flown  
But then the Mighty Dons came on,  
Some smiled and snickered unperplext,  
Whilst others looked disturbed and vexed;  
Much Whispering passed from Mouth to Ear,  
About no Good a Man may Swear,  
Because Don Quirk was busy there.  
Projecting Snap stood listening by,  
Seemed sometimes free, and sometimes shy;  
That's Wrong, says he, and will not Nick'em,  
But this is Right, and there we'll Trick 'em.  
Whilst they were thus Caballing got,  
About the Lord knows who or what,  
A bold Heroic Don well dressed,  
Stepped slyly from amongst the rest,  
And Whispered Fortune in her Ear,  
But what he said no Man could hear;  
Whether he spoke about his Wife,  
Or self, I know not by my Life;  
But Fortune seeming much surprised,  
Yet pleased at what he advertised,  
Cried out aloud, if that's thy Curse  
I think thou well deserv'st the Purse,  
It Justly to thy Lot does Fall,  
Here, prithee take it Horns and all.   

Madam, says he, it is great Pity  
Of such a Prize to Rob the City;  
So took the Purse, but was so kind,  
To humbly leave the Mace behind.   
FINIS.