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An Account of Simon's Wedding, and his Wife's Behaviour the Day after their Marriage.

Simon, the subject of our ensuing discourse, was a man very unfortunate many years after marriage, not only by crosses, but by the cruelty of Margery his severe wife—his wedding day being the best he saw in seven years after, for then he had all his friends about him. Rough Ralph the Fiddler and Will the Piper were appointed to make him and his guests merry.

Singing, dancing, and good feasting attended the day, which being ended, this loving couple went to bed, where their friends all left them.

But the morning was ushered in with a mighty storm, only because Simon put on his roast-meat clothes.

Thus she began the matter—"Why, how now, pray, and what is to-day, that you must put on your holiday clothes, with a pye-crust to you? What do you intend to do, say you, tell me quickly."

"Nothing," said Simon, "but to walk abroad with you, sweet wife, as it is common on the day after marriage."

"No, no," said Margery, "this must not, nor shall not be. It is very well known that I have brought you a very considerable fortune—forty shillings in money, and a good milch cow, four fat wethers, with half a dozen ewes and lambs; likewise, geese, hens, and turkeys; also a sow and pigs, with other moveables, worth more than any of your crook-back generation is able to give you. And do you think you shall lead as lewd a life now as you did before you married; but if you do, then say my name is not Margery. Now I've got you in the bands of matrimony I will make you know what it is to be married; therefore, to work you rascal, and take care that what I brought is not consumed; for, if you do not, what will become of your wife and children?"

Now, Simon looked liked one that had neither sense nor reason, but stood amazed, as if there had been a whole army of Billingsgate shrews. However, recollecting what he had heard about scolds, he muttered to himself, "Udswagers, I think I have got a woeful one now."

"What is that you say, sirrah?" said she.

"Nothing, dear wife, but what you say I allow to be true."

And so, taking his bag and bottle, he went forward to his daily labour: but, coming towards the lower end of the town, he chanced to meet old Jobson, a cobbler, a merry blade, who loved a cup of good ale.

"What! honest Simon," said Jobson, "I am glad to see you, for since our last meeting I hear you are married, and now I wish thee much happiness."

Now, old Jobson, being a merry fellow, invited Simon to take a flaggon of the best liquor that the next ale-house would afford, and there to drink to Margery's health.

Being merry in discourse, talking of the tricks and pranks they had played when bachelors.

Jobson, taking up the flaggon in his hand, said, "Come, here's to thee, honest Simon, and I wish thee better luck than Randal, thy old father-in-law, had with his wife; for she was such a scold that happy were they who lived out of the clamour of her noise. But without doubt thy dear wife may be of a milder spirit, and have more of her father's meekness than her mother's fury in her; but come, Simon, here's to thee and to thy dearly-beloved Margery."

Cries Simon, "If she was present how merry we should be; but, I fear, on the wrong side of the mouth."

"Well," said Jobson, "I vow I long to see her; and I verily believe she would be as glad to see me. I dare to say she will prove a very good wife."

"Truly, neighbour Jobson, I don't know; but if I have no better ending than beginning, I wish I had ended my life at the plough tail."

No sooner were these words out of his mouth but in comes Margery, with her gossips, whom Simon wished to see, forsooth. He wished her much joy, but Margery, in a woeful fury, snatched up Jobson's oaken staff from off the table, and gave poor Simon such a clank upon the noddle which made the blood spin out, saying, "Is this your work, sirrah?" Jobson, seeing so sudden an alteration, was affrighted, not knowing how to escape.

She then turned about to the left, saying, "Thou rogue and rascal, it is you that ruins all the good women's husbands in the town; therefore you shall not go unrewarded," giving him such strokes over his back and shoulders as caused poor Jobson to lay in bed almost a fortnight.

Simple Simon all this while not having any power to run away, but stood like one half frighted out of his wits, and trembling before his bride, with his hat in one hand and the flaggon in the other, begging her that she would be patient, and he would never offend her any more.

But she gave him a frown, and bid him begone about his business, which he immediately did. So then Margery and her friendly gossips had the whole apartment to themselves, where they sat till they were all as drunk as fish-women.