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Cuckold

husband of an adulterous wife

A cuckold is the husband of an adulterous wife; the wife of an adulterous husband is a cuckquean. In biology, a cuckold is a male who unwittingly invests parental effort in juveniles who are not genetically his offspring. A husband who is aware of and tolerates his wife's infidelity is sometimes called a wittol or wittold.

The Cuckold is the last that knowes of it
    —William Camden
Cuckoo, cuckoo!—O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
    —Love’s Labour’s Lost
The shadow doth not more naturally follow the body, than cuckoldry ensueth after marriage to place fair horns upon the husbands’ heads
    —Pantagruel
There is no woman but who cuckoldeth her husband
    —Arabian Nights

Quotes

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  • She Acts the jealous, and at Will she cries;
    For Womens Tears are but the sweat of Eyes.
    Poor Cuckold-Fool, thou think’st that Love sincere,
    And suck’st between her Lips, the falling Tear:
    But search her Cabinet, and thou shalt find
    Each Tiller there with Love Epistles lin’d.
  • But suffer not thy Wife abroad to roam,
    If she loves Singing, let her Sing at home;
    Not strut in Streets, with Amazonian pace;
    For that’s to Cuckold thee, before thy Face.
  • Now, when Shah Zaman saw this conduct of his sister-in-law he said in himself, “By Allah, my calamity is lighter than this! My brother is a greater King among the kings than I am, yet this infamy goeth on in his very palace, and his wife is in love with that filthiest of filthy slaves. But this only showeth that they all do it and that there is no woman but who cuckoldeth her husband, then the curse of Allah upon one and all and upon the fools who lean against them for support or who place the reins of conduct in their hands.” So he put away his melancholy and despondency, regret and repine, and allayed his sorrow by constantly repeating those words, adding “’Tis my conviction that no man in this world is safe from their malice!”
  • Who hath no wyf, he is no cokewold.
  • This Carpenter had wedded newe a wyf
    Which that he lovede more than his lyf;
    Of eightetene yeer she was of age.
    Ialous he was, and heeld hir narwe in cage,
    For she was wilde and yong, and he was old,
    And demed him-self ben lyk a cokewold.
    He knew nat Catoun, for his wit was rude,
    That bad man sholde wedde his similitude.
    Men sholde wedden after hir estaat,
    For youthe and elde is often at debaat.
    But sith that he was fallen in the snare,
    He moste endure, as other folk, his care.
  • Now ther ye seye, that I am foul and old,
    Than drede you noght to been a cokewold;
    For filthe and elde, al-so moot I thee,
    Been grete wardeyns up-on chastitee.
  • By the haven of safety, cried out Rondibilis, what is this you ask of me? If you shall be a cuckold? My noble friend, I am married, and you are like to be so very speedily; therefore be pleased, from my experiment in the matter, to write in your brain with a steel pen this subsequent ditton, There is no married man who doth not run the hazard of being made a cuckold. Cuckoldry naturally attendeth marriage. The shadow doth not more naturally follow the body, than cuckoldry ensueth after marriage to place fair horns upon the husbands’ heads.
  • When daisies pied and violets blue,
      And lady-smocks all silver-white,
    And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
      Do paint the meadows with delight,
    The cuckoo then, on every tree,
    Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
            Cuckoo!
    Cuckoo, cuckoo!—O word of fear,
    Unpleasing to a married ear!
    When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
      And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks,
    When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
      And maidens bleach their summer smocks
    The cuckoo then, on every tree,
    Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
            Cuckoo!
    Cuckoo, cuckoo!—O word of fear,
    Unpleasing to a married ear!
  • You're shallow, madam, in great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary of. He that ears my land spares my team and gives me leave to in the crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my drudge: he that comforts my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young Charbon the Puritan and old Poysam the Papist, howsome'er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one; they may jowl horns together, like any deer i' the herd.
    • William Shakespeare, All’s Well That Ends Well, I. iii
  • Gone already!
    Inch-thick, knee-deep, o’er head and ears a fork’d one!
    Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and I
    Play too, but so disgraced a part, whose issue
    Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour
    Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play.
    There have been,
    Or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now;
    And many a man there is, even at this present,
    Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm,
    That little thinks she has been sluiced in’s absence
    And his pond fish’d by his next neighbour, by
    Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there’s comfort in’t
    Whiles other men have gates and those gates open’d,
    As mine, against their will. Should all despair
    That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
    Would hang themselves. Physic for’t there is none;
    It is a bawdy planet, that will strike
    Where ’tis predominant; and ’tis powerful, think it,
    From east, west, north and south: be it concluded,
    No barricado for a belly; know’t;
    It will let in and out the enemy
    With bag and baggage: many thousand on’s
    Have the disease, and feel’t not. How now, boy!
    • William Shakespeare, The Winter’s Tale, I. ii
  • Oh that all the World were mad,
      Then should we have fine Dancing,
    Hobby horses would be had,
      And brave Girles keepe a prancing.
    Beggars would on Cock-horse ride.
      And Boobies fall a roaring,
    And Cuckolds, tho no Hornes be spied,
      Be one another goring.
  • A wily wench there was (as I have read)
    Who us’d to capricorn her husband’s head,
    Which he suspecting, lay in private wait,
    To catch the knave, and keep his wife more straight.
    But all in vain: they day by day did mate it,
    Yet could his four eyes never take them at it.
    This subtle wench perceiving how they should
    At last prevented be, do all they could:
    For now Italian-like her husband grew,
    Horn-mad I wish, and kept her in a Mew.
    Invent’d a trick, which to accomplish better,
    Unto her friend she closely sent a letter,
    And thus it was; Friend you shall know by me,
    My husband keeps me far more narrowly
    Then he was wont, so as to tell you true,
    You cannot come to me; nor I to you.
    Yet spite of his eyes and as many more,
    We’ll use those pleasures which we used before:
    Only be wise, and second what I wish:
    Which to express (my friend) know this it is.
    My husband as he hates the horns to wear,
    Of all the Badges forth, so fears he’th Bear,
    More than all other Beasts which do frequent
    The healthy Forests spacious continent.
    If thou wilt right me then, and pepper him,
    Cover thy servant in a false Bear’s skin.
    And come tomorrow, as thou used before,
    Tying thy servant to my chamber door.
    After this quaint direction he attired
    His man in bear-skin as she had desir’d:
    Entering the chamber he received is
    With many a smile, back-fall, and sweetened kiss:
    For they’re secure, of all that was before,
    Having a Bear that kept the Buff from door.
    The wittol fool no sooner inkling had,
    Then up the stairs he ran as he were mad.
    But seeing none but th’ Bear to entertain him,
    Of Horns he never after did complain him.
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