Title: Humour, Wit, & Satire of the Seventeenth Century
Author: Various
Language: English
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  HUMOUR, WIT, & SATIRE
  OF THE
  SEVENTEENTH CENTURY



BY THE SAME AUTHOR.


_Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. each._

  A HISTORY OF THE CHAP-BOOKS OF
  THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

_With Nearly 400 Illustrations Engraved in Facsimile of the
Originals._

"Next to a collection of the chap-books themselves, nothing could
give a better idea of this branch of the popular literature of the
eighteenth century than the volume before us. The author's hope
that he has 'succeeded in producing a book at once both amusing and
instructive' is fully justified; and his book is certain to remain the
standard authority on the subject, and to be consulted by every one
who wishes to know what was read in the cottage, and the roadside inn,
and the village school in the eighteenth century."--_Academy._

"Mr. Ashton knows his subject well, and gives us not only the quaint
prose or verse and the still quainter cuts, but also all sorts of
collateral information.... The book is a delightful contribution to
the history of literature."--_Graphic._


  SOCIAL LIFE
  IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE.

_With 84 Illustrations._

"Mr. Ashton has selected an interesting subject, and has done justice
to his choice. There can be no doubt either of Mr. Ashton's diligence
in collecting his materials or of his good sense in refraining from
intruding himself unnecessarily upon the reader. We are grateful to
him both for his industry and his reserve. Even a man who is well
versed in the diaries and correspondence of Queen Anne's time will
find something that is new to him in every chapter.... On these
subjects, and on every curiosity of Queen Anne's reign, Mr. Ashton
has much to say, and he tells his story with good taste and without
unnecessary amplification. His volumes will serve a double purpose.
They will amuse the ordinary reader of the day, and instruct the
student of English manners in the habits of a time which has never
failed to attract."--_Academy._

"Mr. Ashton has produced, beyond a doubt, the most accurate and
readable picture of social life under Queen Anne that has yet been
published.... The book can be opened anywhere and read with pleasure
and profit."--_Morning Post._

"With commendable diligence Mr. Ashton has assembled a vast number
of documents, advertisements, and what not, which he has skilfully
grouped in chapters illustrating the education, food, dress,
amusements, science, art, and manners of the time. His book is, in
fact, a valuable and trustworthy collection of _mémoires pour servir_.
In these pages the reader may wander at will in that lesser London of
which Covent Garden and Leicester Square were the centres. With Mr.
Ashton's book all things are feasible, provided the reader carry with
him a decent amount of curiosity and a fairly good memory. And as Mr.
Ashton, with commendable and indeed unusual honesty, gives chapter and
verse for his statements, our pilgrim may be moderately sure that his
imaginings will possess a certain verisimilitude."--_Athenæum._

CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY, W.



[Illustration: RICHARD TARLTON.

_Tarlton's Jests, Edit. 1638._]



  HUMOUR, WIT, & SATIRE
  of the
  SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

  Collected and Illustrated by
  JOHN ASHTON

  AUTHOR OF "CHAP-BOOKS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY,"
  "SOCIAL LIFE IN THE REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE," etc.

  [Illustration: The foole Rides mee]


  London
  CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY
  1883


  _All rights reserved_



_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_.



=Preface.=


Our forefathers delighted to call their country "Merrie England;" and
so, in very truth, it was. All sorts of sports and pastimes, such as
no other nation can show, were then in use; and even the elders, in
their hours of relaxation, were wont to exchange a merry jest with one
another.

Perhaps some of their jokes lacked the refinement of the present age,
but they denoted a keen sense of humour. Many, nay most, cannot
be reproduced at the present day, and much has this book suffered
therefrom; and it is for this reason that the jest-books and ballads
of this century are so little known. Some few have been printed in
small editions, either privately, or for dilettante societies; but
they are not fit for general perusal, and the public at large know
nothing of them. This is specially the case with the ballad literature
of the century, which is unusually rich. The Pepys, Roxburghe,
Bagford, Luttrell, and other collections, are priceless treasures;
but I know no publisher who would be bold enough to reproduce them,
in their entirety, for the use of the general public. By this I do
not wish to cast any slur, either on the modesty, or morality, of our
ancestors; but their ways were not quite as ours.

The Bibliographical Reference, which forms an Appendix, will show the
wide range that the humour of this century takes; and this does not
exhaust the store by any means. In it I have given, for the use of
students, the British Museum Catalogue number of every authority (to
save trouble, should they wish to refer to the books); and, to avoid
the multiplicity of footnotes, I have placed against each paragraph a
number, by means of which (on turning to the reference) the work from
which it was taken can at once be seen.

Political satire ought to be a work in itself, so that I have but
sparingly used it; and as religious satire hardly comes within the
scope of such a book as this, I have but just glanced at it.

In every instance that I have found possible, I have given the tunes
of the ballads, taken from the books in which they first appeared,
such as _The Dancing Master_, and _Wit and Mirth_; also, in two
instances, where I could not thus find them, I have taken them from
_The Ballad Literature and Popular Music of the Olden Time_, by W.
Chappell, Esq., F.S.A.

If the perusal of this book gives a tithe part as much pleasure and
amusement to the Reader, as it did to me when compiling it, I am more
than content with my labour.

JNO. ASHTON.



[Illustration]



  Humour, Wit, and Satire
  of the
  Seventeenth Century.


[1.] There was a man that had been drinking so hard that he could
scarse stand upon his feet, yet at night he would go home, and as he
went through a green Meadow, neer a hedge side the Bryers held him by
the cloaths and the legs, and he had thought that one had holden him,
and would have had him to drink more, and he said, Good fellow, let
me go, by my troth I can drink no more, I have drank so much already,
that I cannot go home; and there he abode all the same night, and on
the morrow went his Ways.


  When _Marcus_ hath Carrowst March beere and sacke,       [2.]
  And feels his head grow dizzy therwithall.
  Then of Tobacco he a pype doth lacke,
  Of Trinidade in cane, in leafe, or ball,
  Which tane a little he doth Speet and Smacke,
  Then layes him on his bed for feare to fall
  And on Tobacco layes the blame of all,
  But that same pype that Marcus brain did lade
  Was of Madera not of Trinidade.


  I had a love, and she was chaste,       [3.]
    Alack the more's the pity,
  But wot you how my love was chaste,
    She was chaste right through the City.


[4.] A Justice of Peace overtaking a Parson upon the Road, between
_London_ and _Bow_, told his Company that he would put a Trick upon
him: and so, coming up to him, said, _Sir, You don't follow your
Master's Rule, for he was content with an Ass, but you have a very
fine Horse_. The Parson replyed, the reason was, because the King had
made so many Asses Justices, that a Clergyman could not get one to
Ride on.


_On a drawer drunk._

  Drawer with thee now even is thy wine       [5.]
  For thou hast pierced his hogs-head, and he thine.


_Upon the weights of a Clock._

  I wonder time's so swift, when as I see,        [5.]
  Upon her heeles such lumps of lead to bee.


_Nonsense._

  Oh that my Lungs could bleat like butter'd Pease;       [3.]
  But bleating of my lungs hath Caught the itch,
  And are as mangy as the Irish Seas,
  That doth ingender windmills on a Bitch.

  I grant that Rainbowes being lull'd asleep,
  Snort like a woodknife in a Lady's eyes;
  Which makes her grieve to see a pudding creep,
  For Creeping puddings only please the wise.

  Not that a hard row'd herring should presume
  To swing a tyth pig in a Cateskin purse;
  For fear the hailstons which did fall at Rome,
  By lesning of the fault should make it worse.

  For 'tis most certain Winter woolsacks grow
  From geese to swans, if men could keep them so,
  Till that the sheep shorn Planets gave the hint,
  To pickle pancakes in Geneva print.

  Some men there were that did suppose the skie
  Was made of Carbonado'd Antidotes;
  But my opinion is, a Whales left eye,
  Need not be coyned all King _Harry_ groates.

  The reason's plain, for Charons Westerne barge
  Running a tilt at the subjunctive mood,
  Beckoned to Bednal Green, and gave him charge
  To fasten padlockes with Antartic food.

  The end will be the Mill ponds must be laded,
  To fish for white pots in a Country dance;
  So they that suffered wrong and were upbraded
  Shall be made friends in a left handed trance.


[1.] There was three young men going to Lambeth along by the Water
side, and the one plaid with the other, and they cast each others Cap
into the water, in such sort as they could not get their Caps again:
but over the place where their Caps were, did grow a great old tree,
which did Cover a great deale of the Water. One of them said to the
rest, Sirs, I have found out a notable way to come by them. First I
will make myself fast by the middle, with one of your girdles unto the
tree, and he that is with you shall hang fast upon my girdle, and he
that is last shall take hold on him that holds fast on my girdle, and
so with one of his hands he may take up all our caps and cast them on
the sand. And so they did; but when they thought that they had been
most secure and fast, he that was above felt his girdle slack, and
said, Soft, sirs, my girdle slacketh; make it fast quickly, said they,
but as he was untying it to make it faster they fell all three into
the water, and were well washed for their pains.


_Of Lynus borrowing._

  _Lynus_ came late to me sixe crownes to borrow,       [6.]
  And sware G-- d--- him, hee'd repai't to morrow.
  I knew his word as current as his band
  And straight I gave to him three crownes in hand;
  This I to give, this he to take was willing
  And thus he gain'd, and I sav'd fifteene shilling.



=The Woman to the Plow=

and

The Man to the Hen Roost.

Or, a fine way to cure a _Cot Quean_--.


The Tune is, _I have for all good Wives a Song_.--

[7.]

[Illustration]

  Both Men and Women listen well,
  A merry Jest I will you tell,
  Betwixt a Good man and his Wife,
  Who fell the other day at strife:
  He chid her for her Huswivery,
  And she found fault as well as he,
  With him for's work without the door,
  Quoth he (_we'l quarrel thus no more_)
  Sith you and I cannot agree,
  Let's change the work. Content, quoth she,
  My Wheel and Distaffe here take thow,
  And I will drive the Cart and Plow.
  This was concluded 'twixt them both,
  To Cart and Plow the good-wife goeth,
  The Good man he at home doth tarry,
  To see that nothing doth miscarry.
  An apron he before him put,
  Judge, was not this a handsome slut.
  He fleets[F. 1] the Milk, he makes the Chese,
  He gropes[F. 2] the Hens, the Ducks, & Geese,
  He Brews and Bakes as well as he Can,
  But not as it should be done, poor man:
  As he did make his Cheese one day,
  Two Pigs their Bellies broke with whey;
  Nothing that he in hand did take,
  Did come to good; once he did Bake,
  And burnt the Bread as black as a stock,
  Another time he went to Rock
  The Cradle, and threw the child o' th' floor,
  And broke his Nose, and hurt it sore.
  He went to milk one Eventide
  A Skittish Cow on the wrong side,
  His pail was full of Milk, God wot,
  She Kickt and spilt it every jot.
  Besides she hit him a blost o' th' face
  Which was scant well in six weeks space.
  Thus was he served, and yet too well
  And more mischances yet befell.
  Before his apron he'd leave off,
  Though all his neighbours did him scoff.
  Now list and mark one pretty jest,
  'Twill make you laugh above all the rest,
  As he to churn his Butter went,
  One Morning with a good intent,
  The Cot[F. 3] Quean fool did surely dream,
  For he had quite forgot the Cream,
  He churn'd all Day with all his might,
  And yet he could get no Butter at night.
  'Twere strange indeed for me to utter
  That without Creame he should make Butter.
  Now having shew'd his huswivery,
  Who did all things thus untowardly,
  Unto the good-wife I'll turn my Rhime,
  And tell you how she spent her time;
  She us'd to drive the Cart and Plow,
  But do't well she Knew not how,
  She made so many banks i' th' ground,
  He been better have given five pound
  That she had never ta'ne in hand
  So sorely did she spoil the Land.
  As she did go to Sow likewise,
  She made a Feast for Crows and Pies,
  She threw away a hanful at a Place,
  And left all bare another Space.
  At the Harrow she could not rule the Mare
  But hid one Land, and left two bare.
  And shortly after, one a day,
  As she came home with a Load of Hay
  She overthrew it, nay, and worse
  She broke the Cart, and Kill'd a Horse:
  The good-man that time had ill luck,
  He let in the Sow, and Kill'd a Duck,
  And being grieved at his heart,
  For loss on's Duck, his Horse and Cart,
  The many hurts on both sides done,
  His eyes did with salt water run;
  Then now, quoth he, full well I see
  The Wheel's for her, the Plow's for me,
  I thee intreat, quoth he, good-wife,
  To take thy Charge, and all my life
  I'll never meddle with huswivery more,
  Nor find such faults as I did before;
  Give me the Cart Whip and the Frail,
  Take thou the Churn and Milking pail.
  The good-wife she was well content
  And about her Huswivery she went;
  He to Hedging and to Ditching,
  Heaping, Mowing, Lading, Pitching,
  He would be twatling[F. 4] still before,
  But after that ne'r twatled more.
  I wish all Wives that troubled be
  With Hose and Doublet Huswivery,
  To serve them as this Woman did,
  Then may they work and ne'r be chid.
  Though she i' th' intrim had some loss,
  Thereby she was eased of a Cross;
  Take heed of this you husband men,
  Let Wives alone to grope the Hen,
  And meddle you with Horse and Ox.
  And keep your Lambs safe from the Fox,
  So shall you live Contented lives,
  And take sweet pleasure in your Wives.

FINIS.

Printed for J. Wright,[F. 5] J. Clarke,[F. 6] W. Thackeray,[F. 7] and
T. Passinger.[F. 8]

    [Footnote 1: Floats, _i.e._ skims the cream floating on the
    milk.]

    [Footnote 2: Feels whether they have eggs.]

    [Footnote 3: One who meddles in women's business.]

    [Footnote 4: Chattering.]

    [Footnote 5: Published from 1670 to 1690.]

    [Footnote 6: From 1650 to 1682.]

    [Footnote 7: From 1660 to 1680.]

    [Footnote 8: From 1670 to 1682.]


[8.] The Marquess of _Worcester_, calling for a glass of Claret wine,
it was told him by his Physician, that Claret wine was naught for his
gout; What, said the Marquess, my old friend Claret? nay, give it me
in spight of all Physicians and their books, it never shall be said
that I forsook my friend for my enemy.


_On a cowardly Souldier._

  _Strotzo_ doth weare no ring upon his hand,         [5.]
  Although he be a man of great command;
  But gilded spurs do jingle at his heeles;
  Whose rowels are as big as some coach wheels,
  He grac'd them well, for in the Netherlands,
  His heels did him more service than his hands.


_On a fly in a glasse._

  A fly out of his glasse a guest did take,         [5.]
  'Ere with the liquor he his thirst would slake,
  When he had drunk his fill, again the fly
  Into the glasse he put, and said, though I
  Love not flyes in my drink yet others may,
  Whose humour I nor like, nor will gainsay.


_Upon a Churle that was a great usurer._

  A Chuffe that scarce hath teeth to chew his meate,   [9.]
  Heares with deafe ears, and sees with glassy eies,
  Unto his grave his path doth daily beate,
  Or like a logg upon his pallett lies:

  Hath not a thought of God, nor of his grace,
  Speaks not a word but what intends to gaine,
  Can have no pitty on the poore Mans case,
  But will the hart-strings of the needy straine:

  Cries not till death, and then but gives a groane,
  To leave his silver, and his golden bags,
  Then gapes and dies, and with a little moane
  Is lapped up in a few rotten ragges:
      What will this Clunch fist leave upon his grave?
      Here lies the Carkasse of a wretched Knave.


[4.] An Arch Wag speaking of the late dreadful Fire of _London_, said
Cannon Street roared, Wood Street was burnt to Ashes, Bread Street was
burnt to a Coal, Pie Corner was over bak'd and Snow hill melted down.


[4.] A Highway man being to be hang'd in a Country Town, Order was
sent to the Carpenter to make a Gallows; which he neglecting to do,
the Execution was forc'd to be defer'd, for which the Judge was not a
little angry, who sending for the Carpenter, asked him why he had not
done it? Why Sir, said he, I have done two or three already, but was
never paid for them; but had I known it had been for your Worship, I
would have left all other business to have done it.


  Sir _Egley More_[F. 9] that Valiant Knight,        [3.]
  With his fa, la, lanctre down dille;
  He fetcht his sword and he went to fight
  With his fa, la, lanctre down dille;
  As he went over hill and dale,
  All cloathed in his coat of Male,
  With his fa, la, lanctre down dille.

  A huge great Dragon leapes out of his Den,
  With his &c.
  Which had kill'd the Lord knowes how many men,
  With his &c.
  But when he saw Sir _Egly More_,
  Good lack had you seen how this Dragon did roare
  With his &c.

  This Dragon he had on a plaguy hide,
  With his &c.
  Which could both sword and speare abide,
  All the trees in the wood did shake,
  With his &c.
  Stars did tremble and man did quake,
  With his &c.
  But had you seen how the birds lay peeping,
  'Twould have made a mans heart to a' fallen a weeping.
  With his &c.

  But now it was too late to feare,
  With his &c.
  For now it was come to fight dog, fight beare,
  With his &c.
  And as a yawning he did fall,
  He thrust his sword in, hilts and all.
  With his &c.

  But now as the Knight in coller[F. 10] did burne,
  With his &c.
  He ow'd the Dragon a shrewd good turne;
  With his &c.
  In at his mouth his sword he bent,
  The hilt appeared at his fundament.
  With his &c.

  Then the Dragon like a Coward began to fly,
  With his &c.
  Unto his Den that was hard by.
  With his &c.
  And there he laid him down and roar'd;
  The Knight was vexed for his sword,
  With his &c.

  The Sword it was a right good blade,
  With his &c.
  As ever Turk or Spaniard made;
  With his &c.
  I for my part do forsake it,
  And he that will fetch it, let him take it.
  With his &c.

  When all this was done to the Ale house he went,
  With his &c.
  And by and by his two pence he spent;
  With his &c.
  For he was so hot with tugging with the Dragon,
  That nothing could quench him but a whole Flagon.
  With his &c.

  Now God preserve our King and Queen,
  With his &c.
  And eke in London may be seene,
  With his &c.
  As many Knights, and as many more,
  And all as good as Sir _Eglemore_.
  With his &c.

    [Footnote 9: For tune see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 10: Choler, anger.]


[1.] There was a Fryer in _London_, which did use to go often to the
house of an old woman, but ever when he came to her house, she hid
all the meat she had. On a time this Fryer came to her house (bringing
certain Company with him) and demanded of the Wife if she had any
meat. And she said, Nay. Well, quoth the Fryer, have you not a
whetstone? Yea (qd. the Woman) Marry, qd. he, I would make meat
thereof. Then she brought a whetstone. He asked her likewise if she
had not a Frying-pan. Yea, said she, but what the devil will ye do
therewith? Marry (said the Fryer) you shall see by and by what I will
do with it; and when he had the pan, he set it on the fire, and put
the whetstone therein. Cocks body, said the woman, you will burn the
pan. No, no, qd. the Fryer, if you will give me some eggs, it will not
burn at all. But she would have had the pan from him, when that she
saw it was in danger; yet he would not let her, but still urged her to
fetch him some eggs, which she did. Tush said the Fryer, here are
not enow, go fetch ten or twelve. So the good Wife was constrayned to
fetch more for feare lest the Pan should burn; And when he had them,
he put them in the Pan. Now, qd he, if you have no butter the pan will
burn, and the eggs too. So the good wife being very loth to have her
pan burnt, and the eggs lost, she fetcht him a dish of butter, the
which he put into the pan, and made good meat thereof, & brought to
the table, saying, Much good may it do you my Masters, now may you
say, you have eaten of a buttered Whetstone. Whereat all the Company
laughed, but the woman was exceeding angry because the Fryer had
subtilly beguiled her of her meat.


_The Devill and the Fryar._

  The Devill was once deceived by a fryar,        [5.]
  Who though he sold his soul cheated the buyer.
  The devill was promist if he would supply,
  The Fryar with Coyn at his necessity,
  When all the debts he ow'd discharg'd were quite,
  The Devill should have his soul as his by right;
  The Devill defray'd all scores, payd all; at last
  Demanded for his due, his soul in haste:
  The Fryar return'd this answer, if I owe
  You any debts at all, then you must know
  I am indebted still, if nothing be
  Due unto you, why do you trouble me?


_On Battus._

  Battus doth bragge he hath a world of bookes        [5.]
  His studies maw holds more than well it may,
  But seld' or never he upon them looks,
  And yet he looks upon them every day,
  He looks upon their out side, but within
  He never looks nor never will begin:
  Because it cleane against his nature goes
  To know mens secrets, so he keeps them Close.



The

Unconscionable Batchelors of DARBY,

or the

  Young Lasses Pawn'd by their Sweethearts, for a large
    Reckoning, at _Nottingham_ Goose Fair; where
        poor Susan was forced to pay the Shot.


To the Tune of _To thee, To thee &c._

  You lovers of mirth attend a while,         [10.]
    a merry new ditty here I write,
  I know it will make you laugh and smile,
    for every line affords delight:
  The Lasses of Darby with young Men,
    they went to Goose Fair for recreation,
  But how these Sparks did serve them then,
    is truly worth your observation,
  Truly, truly worth your observation,
    therefore I pray observe this Ditty;
  The Maids did complain they came there in vain
    and was not, was not that a pity.

  So soon as they came into the Fair,
    The Batchelors made them conjues[F. 11] low,
  And bid them a thousand welcomes there,
    this done to a tippling school they go;
  How pleasant was honest Kate and Sue,
    believing they should be richly treated,
  But, Neighbours and Friends, as I am true;
    no Lasses ever was so cheated;
  Cheated, cheated, very farely cheated,
    as you may note by this new Ditty;
  They were left alone, to make their moan,
    and was not, was not that a pity?

[Illustration]

  The innocent Lasses fair and gay,
    concluded the Men was kind and free,
  Because they pass'd the time away,
    a plenty of cakes and ale they see;
  For sider and mead they then did call,
    and whatever else the House afforded,
  But Susan was forc'd to pay for all,
    out of the mony she had hoarded,
  Hoarded, hoarded, mony she had hoarded;
    it made her sing a doleful Ditty,
  And so did the rest with grief opprest,
    and was not, was not that a pity?

  Young Katy she seemed something Coy,
    because she would make them eager grow,
  As knowing thereby she might enjoy
    what beautiful Damsels long to know,
  On complements they did not stand,
    nor did they admire their charming features;
  For they had another game in hand,
    which was to pawn these pretty creatures,
  Creatures, creatures, loving, loving Creatures,
    which was so charming, fair, and pretty;
  The Men sneak'd away, and nothing did pay,
    and was not, was not, that a pity?

  Though out of the door they enter'd first,
    and left them tipling there behind,
  Those innocent Maids did not mistrust,
    that Batchelors could be so unkind.
  Quoth Susan, I know their gone to buy
    the fairings which we did so require,
  And they will return I know, for why,
    they do our youthful charms admire;
  Therefore, therefore, stay a little longer,
    and I will sing you a pleasant Ditty,
  But when they found they were catch'd in the pound,
    they sigh'd and weep'd the more's the pity.

  Now finding the Men return'd no more,
    and that the good People would not trust,
  They presently call'd to know the Score,
    it chanc'd to be fifteen shilling just:
  Poor Kate had but five pence in her purse,
    but Sue had a crown besides a guinney;
  And since the case had happen'd thus,
    poor Soul she paid it e'ry penny,
  Penny, Penny, e'ry, e'ry penny,
    tho' with a sad and doleful Ditty
  Said she, for this I had not a kiss,
    and was not, was not that a pity?

Printed for J. Bissel,[F. 12] in West Smithfield.


    [Footnote 11: Congées, low bows.]

    [Footnote 12: James Bissel lived at the Bible and Harp, by the
    Hospital Gate, and published between 1685 and 1695.]


[1.] There was a Priest in the Country, which had christned a Child;
and when he had christned it, he and the clark were bidden to the
drinking that should be there, and thither they went with other
people, and being there, the Priest drunk and made so merry that he
was quite foxed,[F. 13] and thought to go home before he laid him down
to sleep; but having gone a little way, he grew so drowsie, that he
could go no further, but laid him down by a ditch side, so that his
feet did hang in the water, and lying on his back, the Moon shined in
his face: thus he lay till the rest of the Company came from drinking,
who as they came home found the Priest lying as aforesaid, and they
thought to get him away, but do what they could he would not rise,
but said, Do not meddle with me, for I lie very well, I will not stir
hence before morning, but I pray you lay some more cloathes on my
feet, and blow out the Candle, and let me lie and take my rest.

    [Footnote 13: Drunk.]


_In Getam._

  _Geta_ from wool and weaving first began,       [5.]
  Swelling and Swelling to a gentleman;
  When he was gentleman, and bravely dight,
  He left not swelling till he was a knight;
  At last forgetting what he was at first,
  He swole to be a Lord ... and then he burst.


_On Button a Sexton making a grave._

  Ye powers above, and heavenly poles,       [5.]
  Are graves become but _Button_ Holes.


[4.] Two Sparks standing together in the Cloysters, seeing a pretty
Lady pass by, says one of them, _There goes the handsomest Lady that
I ever saw in my Life_; She hearing him, turned back, and seeing him
very ugly, said, _Sir I would I could in way of Requital say as much
of you_. _Faith_, says he, _so you may, and Lye as I did_.


_On Jack Wiseman._

  _Jack Wiseman_ brags his very name,       [3.]
  Proclaims his wit, he's much to blame,
  To doe the Proverb so much wrong,
  Which sayes he's wise that holds his tongue;
  Which makes me contradict the Scooles,
  And apt to thinke the wise men fools,
  Yet pardon _Jack_, I hear that now
  Thou'rt wed, and must thy wit allow,
  That by a strange [oe]nigma can,
  Make a light Woman a _Wiseman_.


_Of a Woman's Kindnesse to her Husband._

  One that had lived long by lewdest shifts,        [6.]
  Brought to the Court that Corne from Cockle[F. 14] sifts
  Adiudged, first to lye a yeere in fetters,
  Then burned in his forhead with two letters,
  And to disparage him with more disgrace,
  To slit his nose, the figure of his face.
  The prisoners wife with no dishonest mind,
  To shew herselfe unto her husband kind,
  Sued humbly to the Lords, and would not cease,
  Some part of this sharp rigour to release.
  He was a man (she said) had serv'd in Warre,
  What mercy would a Souldiers face so marre.
  Thus much said she, but gravely they replied,
  It was great mercy that he thus was tried:
  His crimes deserve he should have lost his life,
  And hang in chaines; Alas, reply'd the wife,
      If you disgrace him thus, you quite undo him,
      Good my Lords, hang him, pray be good unto him.

    [Footnote 14: The _Agrostemna githago_, Linn.]


[1.] There were once too men that were both masterless and moneyless,
& one said to the other, What remedy canst thou now find out, that we
may either get some meat or money? By my troth (qd. the other) I do
know a very fine shift, (& being very early in the morning they espyed
a man coming with Hogs). Lo, yonder cometh a man with Hogs, and I will
tell him that they be sheep, and I will cause him to lay a Wager with
me, whether they be Sheep or Hogs: & I will cause the matter to be
judged by the next man that cometh, but then thou must go another way
& meet with us; when we demand of thee whether they be sheep or hogs,
thou must say that they be sheep. Then they separated themselves the
one from the other, and the one went to meet the man that had the
Swine, bidding him good morrow; the man doing the like to him again.
Then he said to the old man, Father, where had you your fair sheep.
What sheep qd the man; these sheep that you drive before you: Why, qd
the old man, they are swine. What (qd. the other) will you make me a
fool? think you I know not Sheep from Swine? Marry (qd. the old man)
I will lay one of my Swine against what thou wilt, that they be no
Sheep. I hold thee my coat against one of thy sheep qd. the other. I
am content qd the old man, by whom shall we be tryed? By the next man
that meets us. Content, said the old man; and then they perceived the
man coming being the fellow of the young man. And when he came to them
the old man requested him to tel them what beasts those were? Why (qd.
he) they be sheep, do you not know sheep? I told him so (qd. the other
young man) but he would not believe me, so I laid my Coat upon a Wager
that they were sheep, and he laid me one of his sheep against my Coat
that they were Swine; and I won it have I not? Yea (qd. the old man,)
but God help me, I bought them for Swine. And then the young man took
one of the fattest hogs he could find amongst them all, & carryed him
away, and his fellow went another way, as though he had not known
him, and the poore man returned again to the place where he had bought
them.

What became of him afterward I cannot tell: only thus much I know,
that he was deceived by those two crafty fellows of one of his hogs.
But they immediately met one the other again, and sold the hog for
Money, and rejoyced that they fared so well (not knowing how to have
otherwise sustained their wants).


_Of Marcus._

  When Marcus fail'd a borrowed sum to pay,       [5.]
  Unto his friend at the appointed day:
  'Twere superstition for a man he sayes,
  To be a strict observer of set dayes.


  The industrious Smith wherin is showne,       [11.]
  How plain dealing is overthrown,
  That let a man do the best that he may,
  An idle huswife will work his decay,
  Yet art is no burthen; tho ill we may speed,
  Our labour will help us in time of our need.


To the Tune of _Young Man remember delights are but vain_.

  There was a poor Smith liv'd in a poor town,
  That had a loving wife bonny and brown,
  And though he were very discreet and wise,
  Yet he would do nothing without her advice;
  His stock it grew low, full well did he know,
  He told his wife what he intended to do,
  Quoth he, sweet wife, if I can prevail,
  I will shoo horses, and thou shalt sell Ale.

  I see by my labour but little I thrive,
  And that against the stream I do strive
  By selling of Ale some money is got,
  If every man honestly pay for his pot:
  By this we may keep the wolf from the door,
  And live in good fashion though now we live poor,
  If we have good custom, we shall have quick sale,
  So may we live bravely by selling of Ale.

  Kind husband, quoth she, let be as you said,
  It is the best motion that ever you made,
  A Stan[F. 15] of good Ale, let me have in,
  A dozen of good white bread in my Bin;
  Tobacco likewise we must not forget,
  Men will call for it when malt's above wheat.
  When once it is known, then ore hill and dale,
  Men will come flocking to taste of our Ale.

[Illustration]

  They sent for a wench, her name it was _Besse_,
  And her they hired to welcome their guesse,[F. 16]
  They took in good Ale, and many things mo,
  The Smith had got him two strings to his bow:
  Good fellows came in, and began for to rore,
  The Smith he was never so troubled before,
  But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl,
  These things must be, if we sell Ale.

  The Smith went to his work every day,
  But still one or other would call him away,
  For now he had got him the name of an Host,
  It cost him many a Pot and a Toste.
  Beside much precious time he now lost,
  And thus the poor Smith was every day crost,
  But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl
  These things must be if we sell Ale.

  Men run on the score, and little they paid,
  Which made the poor Smith be greatly dismaied,
  And bonny _Besse_ though she were not slack
  To welcome her guesse, yet things went to wrack;
  For she would exchange a pot for a kisse,
  Which any fellow should seldom times misse.
  But quoth the good Wife, sweet hart do not rayl,
  These things must be if we sell Ale.

  The Smith went abroad, at length hee came home,
  And found his maid and man in a room,
  Both drinking together foot to foot,
  To speak unto them he thought was no boot:
  For they were both drunk and could not reply,
  To make an excuse as big as a lye.
  But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl,
  These things must be if we sell Ale.

  He came home again and there he did see
  His Wife kindly sitting on a man's knee,
  And though he said little, yet he thought the more,
  And who can blame the poor Wittall therfore.
  He hug'd her and kist her though Vulcan stood by,
  Which made him to grumble, and look all awry.
  But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl,
  These things must be, if we sell Ale.

  A Sort of Saylers were drinking one night,
  And when they were drunk began for to fight,
  The Smith came to part them, as some do report,
  And for his good will was beat in such sort
  That he could not lift his arms to his head,
  Nor yet very hardly creep up to his bed.
  But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl,
  These things must be if we sell Ale.

  The Smith by chance a good fellow had met,
  That for strong Ale was much in his debt,
  He ask't him for money; quoth he, by your leave,
  I owe you no money, nor none you shall have.
  I owe to your wife, and her I will pay;
  The Smith he was vext and departed away.
  Alas who can blame him, if now he do rayl,
  For these things must be if we sell Ale.

       *       *       *       *       *

  A flock of good fellows, all Smiths by their trade,
  Within a while after a holiday made,
  Unto the Smith's house they came then with speed,
  And there they were wondrous merry indeed,
  With my pot and thy pot to make the score hier,
  Mine Host was so drunk he fell in the fire.
  But quoth the good Wife, sweet hart do not rayl,
  These things must be if we sell Ale.

       *       *       *       *       *

  But men ran so much with him on the score,
  That Vulcan at last grew wondrous poor,
  He owed the Brewer and Baker so much,
  They thretned to arrest him, his case it was such;
  He went to his Anvill, to my pot and thine,
  He turn'd out his Maid, he pul'd down his Signe,
  But O (quoth the good Wife) why should we fail,
  These things should not be, if we sell Ale.

  The Smith and his boy went to work for some chink,
  To pay for the liquor which others did drink
  Of all trades in London few break as I heare,
  That sell Tobacco, strong Ale and good Beer,
  They might have done better, but they were loth
  To fill up their measure with nothing but froth.
  Let no Ale-house keeper at my Song rayl,
  These things must be if they sell Ale.

Humfrey Crowch.[F. 17]

FINIS.

London. Printed for RICHARD HARPER[F. 18] in Smithfield.

    [Footnote 15: A Stand of Ale was a beer barrel set on end.]

    [Footnote 16: Guests.]

    [Footnote 17: Of Humphrey Crowch or Crouch little is known,
    but we know he published many ballads and books of the
    chap-book order; among the former is the Mad Man's Morrice,
    and among the latter is England's Jests refin'd. He certainly
    wrote from 1637 to 1687.]

    [Footnote 18: Richard Harper published from 1635 to 1642.]


[8.] _Jack Roberts_ was desired by his Taylour, when the reckoning
grew somewhat high, to have a Bill of his hand. _Roberts_ said, I am
content, but you must let no man know it; when the Taylour brought him
the Bill, he tore it as in choler, and said to him, _You use me not
well, you promised me that no man should know it, and here you have
put in: Be it known unto all Men by these Presents_.


[1.] A Certain Butcher was flaying a Calf at night and had stuck a
lighted Candle upon his head, because he would be the quicker about
his business, and when he had done, he thought to take the same Candle
to light him to bed: but he had forgot where he had set it, and sought
about the House for it, and all the while it stuck in his Cap upon his
head, and lighted him in seeking it. At the last one of his fellows
came and asked him what he sought for? Marry, (quoth he) I look for
the Candle which I did flay the Calf withal. Why, thou fool, qd. he,
thou hast a Candle in thy Cap: and then he felt towards his Cap, and
took away the Candle burning, whereat there was great laughing and he
mocked for his labour, as he was well worthy.


      A rich man, and's Wife,      [12.]
      Were every day at strife,
  And each wisht t'other in the Grave;
      But their good Son and Heir
      Begg'd God grant their Prayer,
  That both their desires they might have.


      One _Hart_, that was Wild       [12.]
      Got a woman with Child,
  But the Justice did take his part;
      Then she cry'd and did mumble,
      Sayes the Justice de'e grumble?
  No, I grieve, Sir, and lay it to _Hart_.


[4.] Just after the late Kings Restauration, when going to Church came
to be in fashion, an old Woman was advised by her Neighbours to go
to Church; for fear of being Presented, she was resolved to go once a
month to save her Bacon: So Dressing herself very fine, she came
into the Church, just at the Expiration of the Letany, and the Parson
having said, _Lord have Mercy upon us_, and then the People Responding
thereto, she Cryed out aloud, _I never was here before in my Life, and
since you make such a Wonderment at it I will never come again_.


_On Sextus._

  Sextus doth wish his wife in heaven were       [5.]
  Where can shee have more happines than there?


_The Rurall Dance about the_ May-pole.[F. 19]

_The Tune the first Figure dance at_ Mr Young's Ball _in_ May 1671

  Come lasses and ladds,       [13.]
  Take leave of your Dadds,
  And away to the _May-pole_ hey;
      For every he
      Has got him a she
  With a Minstrill standing by.
  For _Willy_ has gotten his _Jill_,
  And _Jonny_ has got his _Jone_,
  To jigg it, jigg it, jigg it, jigg it,
  Jigg it up and down.

  Strike up sayes _Wat_
  Agreed sayes _Kate_,
      And I prethee Fidler play,
      Content sayes _Hodge_,
      And so sayes _Madge_,
  For this is a Holliday.
  Then every man did put
  His Hat off to his Lasse,
  And every Girle did curchy,
  Curchy, curchy on the Grasse.

  Begin sayes _Hall_.
  [F. 20] I. I says _Mall_
  Wee'l lead up _Packingtons_[F. 21] pound
      No, no, says _Noll_
      And so says _Doll_
  Wee'l first have _Sellengers_[F. 22] round:
  Then every man began
  To foot it round about,
  And every Girle did jet it,
  Jet it, jet it in and out

  Y'are out, says _Dick_,
  'Tis a lye, says _Nick_,
  The Fidler play'd it false;
      'Tis true says _Hugh_,
      And so says _Sue_,
  And so says nimble _Alice_;
  The Fidler then began
  To play the Tune agen,
  And every Girle did trip it,
  Trip it, trip it to the men.

  Let's kiss says _Jane_,
  Content, says _Nan_
  And so says every she
      How many says _Batt_,
      Why three says _Matt_,
  For that's a maiden's fee;
  But they instead of three
  Did give 'em halfe a score,
  And they in kindnesse gave 'em,
  Gave 'em, gave 'em as many more.

  Then after an hour,
  They went to a bower,
  And play'd for Ale and Cakes,
      And kisses too
      Untill they were due,
  The Lasses kept the stakes.
  The Girles did then begin
  To quarrel with the men,
  And bid 'em take their kisses back
  And give 'em their own agen.

  Yet there they sate
  Until it was late
  And tyr'd the Fidler quite,
      With singing and playing
      Without any paying,
  From morning untill night.
  They told the fidler then,
  They'd pay him for his play,
  And each a 2 pence, 2 pence, 2 pence,
  Gave him and went away.

    [Footnote 19: For tune see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 20: Ay, ay.]

    [Footnote 21: This tune certainly was known in Queen
    Elizabeth's time, for it occurs in her Virginal book, and
    Chappell says, "It probably took its name from Sir John
    Packington, commonly called 'lusty Packington,' the same who
    wagered that he would swim from the Bridge at Westminster,
    _i.e._ Whitehall Stairs, to that at Greenwich for the sum of
    £3000. 'But the good Queen, who had particular tenderness for
    handsome fellows, would not permit Sir John to run the hazard
    of the trial.'"]

    [Footnote 22: Or St. Leger's round, was thought by Sir John
    Hawkins to be the oldest country dance now extant, and is to
    be found in Queen Elizabeth's Virginal book.]


[4.] A Minister finding his Parishioners to be Ignorant, was resolv'd
to Examine and Instruct them at home; so going to an Ancient Womans
House, amongst other Questions, he asked her how many Commandments
there were? She told him she could not tell: he told her there were
Ten: Whereat she replied, _A Jolly Company! God Bless you and them
both together._ Well, but, Neighbour, (says he) Do you think you can
keep these Commandments? _Ah! God bless you, Sir_, (said she) _I am a
poor Woman, and can hardly keep my self; I hope you will not put me to
the Charge of keeping any of the Commandments for you_.


_On Charismus._

  Thou hast compos'd a book, which neither age       [5.]
  Nor future time shall hurt through all their rage,
  For how can future times or age invade
  That work, which perished as soone as made.


      A man did surmise        [12.]
      That another mans eyes
  Were both of a different frame;
      For if they had been Matches,
      Then, alas, poor wretches,
  His Nose would a set 'em in a flame.


[8.] Master _Mason_ of _Trinity_ Colledge, sent his Pupil to another
of the Fellows to borrow a Book of him, who told him _I am loath to
lend my Books out of my Chamber, but if it please thy Tutor to come
and read upon it in my Chamber, he shall as long as he will_. It was
winter, and some daies after the same Fellow sent to Mr _Mason_ to
borrow his Bellows, but Master _Mason_ said to his Pupil, _I am loath
to lend my Bellows out of my Chamber, but if thy Tutor would come and
blow the Fire in my Chamber he shall as long as he will_.


_Of a drunken Smith._

  I heard that _Smug_ the Smith for Ale and Spice,       [6.]
  Sold all his tooles, and yet he kept his Vice.


  When Lynus meetes me, after Salutations,       [6.]
  Curtesies, complements, and gratulations,
  He presseth me unto the third deniall,
  To lend him twenty shillings or a ryall;[F. 23]
  But, with his curt'sies, of his purpose fayling
  He goes behind my backe cursing and railing.
      Foole, thy kind speeches cost thee not a penny,
      And more foole I, if they should cost me enny.

    [Footnote 23: Value ten shillings.]


[4.] A Minister going to one of his Parishioners he asked her, who
made her? She reply'd, She did not know: A Child standing by, he
asked him the same Question, who Answered, God; whereupon the Parson
Reproving the Old Woman, told her it was a shame that she should be
so Ignorant, who had lived to those Years, and that little Child could
tell. _Marry_, quoth she, _I am an old Woman, and have been made a
great while, and he was made but t'other day, he may well tell who
made him_.


  I went to the Tavern, and then,       [13.]
  I went to the Tavern, and then,
  I had good store of Wine,
  And my Cap full of coyne
      And the world went well with me then, then,
      And the world went well with me then.

  I went to the Tavern agen
  When I ran on the score
  And was turn'd out o' th' door
      And the world went ill with me then, then, &c.

  When I was a Batchelor then,
  I had a Saddle and a Horse,
  And I took my own Course,
      And the world went well with me then, then &c.

  But when I was marry'd, O then
  My Horse and my Saddle
  Were turn'd to a Cradle,
      And the world went ill with me then, then, &c.

  When I brought her home mony, then
  She never would pout,
  But clip me about,
      And the world went well with me then, then, &c.

  But when I was drunk, O then,
  She'd kick, she'd fling,
  Till she made the house ring,
      And the world went ill with me then, then &c.

  So I turn'd her away, and then,
  I got me a Miss
  To Clip and to kiss,
      And the world went ill with me then, then &c.

  I took my wife home agen,
  But I chang'd her note
  For I cut her throat.
      And the world went well with me then, then, &c.

  But when it was known, O then,
  In a two wheeld Charret
  To _Tiburn_ I was carry'd,
      And the world went ill with me then, then, &c.

  But when I came there, O then,
  They forc't me to swing
  To heaven in a string.
      And the world went well with me then, then &c.


[1.] There was a man in the Country, who had not been any far
Traveller, and dwelt far from any Church except a Church that was
seven or eight miles from his house, and there they never sung Mass
nor Even song, but did ever say it. And on a time he came to _London_,
having never been here before, & being in _London_ he went to _Pauls_
Church, & went into the Chappel, where they sung Mass with Organs, and
when he heard the melody of the Organs and the singing together, that
he never heard before, he thought he should have gone to Heaven by and
by, and looked, and said aloud that every one heard, O Lord, shall
I go to heaven presently? I would thou wouldest let me alone till
I might go home and fetch my white stick and black hood, and then I
would go gladly with thee. Where at all the people laughed heartily.


_Sorte tuâ contentus._

  If adverse fortune bring to passe      [5.]
  And will that thou an asse must bee,
  Then be an asse, and live an asse,
  For out of question wise is hee
      That undergoes with humble mind
      The state that chance hath him assign'd.


  A Fellow told his Friends.      [12.]
  That a Pudding had two ends;
  But that's a lye, sayes another;
  Do but think agen,
  And you'l find it begin
  At one end, and ends at t'other.


  If that from Glove you take the letter G      [14.]
  Then glove is love, and that I send to thee.



[15.] THE JOLLY WELSH WOMAN

Who drinking at the Sign of the _Crown_ in _London_, found a Spring
in her Mugg, for Joy of which hur Sung the praise of Old _England_
resolving never to return to _Wales_ again.

Tune of, _Hey brave_ Popery &c.

Licensed according to Order.

  There was an Old woman came out of North Wales,
  And up to fair London her merrily Sails,
  It was for her pleasure Cuts-plutter-a-nails
        _Sing O brave_ Welsh _Woman_, _Jolly brave_ Welsh _Woman_,
        _Delicate_ Welsh _Woman_. _O._

  As soon as hur came into fair _London_ town
  Hur went to an Alehouse the sign of the Crown,
  In order to tipple hur streight did sit down.
        _Sing O brave_ &c.

  Hur being a weary and willing to rest,
  Hur would not be one of the worst of the guest,
  But call'd for a Pitcher of Ale of the best.
        _Sing O brave_ &c.

[Illustration]

  The Tapster then giving the Jugg in her hand,
  The _Welsh_ woman streight on hur feet she did stand,
  And drank a good health to hur King of England.
        _Sing O brave_ &c.

  Now while she had gotten the jugg at her snout,
  And being both lusty, courageous and stout,
  Hur gave it a tug, till hur swigg'd it half out.
        _Sing O brave_ &c.

  The Tapster he see her to be of that strain,
  And how she did tipple the Liquor amain,
  Thought he, I will fill up thy pitcher again.
        _Sing O brave_ &c.

  The jugg hur had plac'd on the Bench by her side,
  To which the young tapster did cunningly slide,
  And fill'd it as if it had been a full tide.
        _Sing O brave_ &c.

  Now hur did not know how her pitcher did fill,
  Therefore hur did say with a merry good will
  Here's Tipple and drink, and her Pitcher full still.
        _Sing O brave_ England &c.

  The praise of this Nation Cuts-plut her will sing,
  Hur never had known such a wonderful thing,
  The juggs in this land has a delicate Spring.
        _Sing O brave_ England &c.

  Once more she saluted the lips of her Mugg,
  And gave it a hearty and dextrous tugg,
  The Tapster once more he did fill up her jugg.
        _Sing O brave_ England &c.

  The Liquor up into her Noddle did steel,
  The Floor with her feet hur hardly could feel,
  So that hur began for to stagger and reel.
        _Sing O brave_ England &c.

  Hur swore hur would never to _Wales_ any more,
  For hur has tasted Rich liquor good store,
  The like in all _Wales_ hur had neer drank before,
        _Sing O brave_ England &c.

  Hereafter hur never will honour the Leek,
  This was the best Nation as e're hur did seek,
  Here's liquor of life that will make a Cat speak.
        _Sing O brave_ England &c.

  In praise of this liquor, hur Cap up she flung,
  For why, it Created an Eloquent Tongue,
  Besides it will make an Old Woman look young,
        _Sing O brave Nappy Ale, Delicate Nappy Ale,
        Dainty fine Nappy Ale._


[1.] In the country dwelt a Gentlewoman who had a French man dwelling
with her and he did ever use to go to Church with her, and upon a time
he and his Mistresse were going to Church and she bad him pull the
doore after him and follow her to the Church, and so he took the doore
betweene his armes, and lifted it from the hooks, and followed his
Mistresse with it: But when she looked behinde her and saw him bring
the doore upon his back, Why, thou foolish knave, qd. she, what wilt
thou do with the door? Marry Mistresse, qd. he, you bad me pull the
doore after me. Why, qd. she, I did command thee that thou shouldest
make fast the doore after thee, and not bring it upon thy back after
me. But after this, there was much good sport and laughing at his
simplicity and foolishnesse therein.


_On a Watch lost in a Tavern._

  A Watch lost in a Tavern? that's a Crime,      [14.]
  You know how men in drinking lose there time:
  A Watch keeps time, and if time pass away,
  There is small reason that the Watch should stay.
  The key hung out, and you forgot to lock it,
  Time scorns to be kept tame in any pocket.
  Hereafter if you keep't, thus must you do,
  Pocket your Watch, and watch your pockets too.


_Of a Precise Taylor._

  A Taylor thought a man of upright dealing,      [16.]
  True, but for lying, honest but for stealing,
  Did fall one day extreamly sicke by chance,
  And on the sudden was in wondrous trance.
  The Fiends of hell mustring in fearfull manner,
  Of Sundry Coloured silkes displayed a Banner,
  Which he had stolne, and wish't as they did tell
  That one day he might finde it all in hell.
  The man affrighted at this apparition
  Upon recovery grew a great Precisian.
  He bought a Bible of the new Translation,
  And in his life he shew'd great reformation;
  He walked mannerly, and talked meekely,
  He heard three Lectures, and two Sermons weekely:
  He vowed to shunne all companies unruly,
  And in his speech he used none oath, but truly.
  And zealously to keepe the Sabboths rest,
  His meat for that day, on the e've was drest,
  And least the custome that he had to steale,
  Might cause him sometime to forget his zeale,
  He gives his journeyman a speciall charge,
  That if the stuffe allow'd fell out too large,
  And that to filch his fingers were inclin'd,
  He then should put the Banner in his minde.
  This done, I scant can tell the rest for laughter,
  A Captaine of a ship came three daies after,
  And brought three yards of Velvet, and three Quarters
  To make Venetians[F. 24] down below the garters.
  He that precisely knew what was enuffe,
  Soone slipt away three quarters of the stuffe.
  His man espying it, said in derision,
  Remember, Master, how you saw the vision.
      Peace (knave) quoth he, I did not see one ragge
      Of such a coloured silke in all the flagge.

    [Footnote 24: Trunk hose.]


[8.] A Notorious Rogue being brought to the Bar, and knowing his case
to be desperate, instead of pleading, he took to himself the liberty
of jesting, and thus said, _I charge you in the Kings name to seise
and take away that man_ (meaning the Judge) _in the red Gown, for I go
in danger of my life because of him_.


_On a gentleman that married an heire privately at the Tower._

  The angry Father hearing that his childe      [5.]
  Was stoln, married, and his hopes beguild;
  ('Cause his usurious nature had a thought
  She might have bin to greater fortunes brought:)
  With rigid looks, bent brows, and words austere,
  Ask'd his forc'd son in law how he did dare
  Thus beare his onely daughter to be married;
  And by what Cannons he assumed such power?
  He sayd, the best in England, sir, the Tower.


_Of_ Galla's _goodly Periwigge_.

  You see the goodly hayre that _Galla_ weares,      [16.]
  'Tis certain her own hayr, who would have thought it?
  She sweares it is her owne; and true she sweares,
  For hard by Temple-barre last day she bought it.
  So faire a haire, upon so foule a forehead,
  Augments disgrace, and showes the grace is borrow'd.


[17.] Several Gentlemen were at dinner together, and one of them was a
Parson; among the Dishes one was a Pig, but 'twas very lean; Then they
concluded that it was only fit for the Parson, being a spiritual Pig,
for it had no flesh upon it.



_An Invitation to Lubberland._

with

An Account of the great Plenty
  of that Fruitful Country.


  There's all sorts of Fowl and Fish,
    with Wine and store of Brandy,
  Ye have there what your Hearts can wish,
    the Hills are Sugar Candy.

The Tune of _Billy and Molly_ Or, The Journey-man Shoe maker

This may be printed R. P.[F. 25]


  There is a ship we understand      [19.]
    now riding in the river,
  Tis newly come from _Lubberland_
    the like I think was never;
  You that a lazy life do love,
    I'd have you now go over,
  They say land is not above
    two thousand leagues from Dover.

[Illustration: Hey for _Lubberland_]

  The Captain and the Master too,
    do's give us this relation,
  And so do's all the whole ships crew,
    concerning this strange nation.
  The streets are pav'd with pudding-pies
    nay powder'd[F. 26] beef and bacon,
  They say they scorn to tell you lies,
    who thinks it is mistaken.

  The king of knaves and queen of sluts
    reign there in peace and quiet;
  You need not fear to starve your guts,
    there is such store of diet:
  There may you live free from all care,
    like hogs set up a fatning,
  The garments which the people wear
    is silver, silk and sattin.

  The lofty buildings of this place
    for many years have lasted,
  With nutmegs, pepper, cloves and mace,
    the walls are roughly casted,
  In curious hasty-pudding boil'd,
    and most ingenious Carving.
  Likewise they are with pancakes ty'd,
    sure, here's no fear of starving.

  The Captain says, in every Town
    hot roasted pigs will meet ye,
  They in the streets run up and down,
    still crying out, _come eat me_:
  Likewise he says, at every feast
    the very fowls and fishes,
  Nay, from the biggest to the least,
    comes tumbling to the dishes.

  The rivers run with claret fine,
    the brooks with rich Canary,
  The ponds with other sorts of wine,
    to make your hearts full merry:
  Nay, more than this, you may behold
    the fountains flow with Brandy,
  The rocks are like refined gold,
    the hills are sugar candy.

  Rosewater is the rain they have,
    which comes in pleasant showers,
  All places are adorned brave
    with sweet and fragrant flowers:
  Hot Custards grows on e'ery tree
    each ditch affords rich jellies
  Now, if you will be rul'd by me,
    go there, and fill your bellies.

  There's nothing there but holy-days,
    with musick out of measure;
  Who can forbear to speak the praise
    of such a land of pleasure?
  There you may lead a lazy life,
    free from all kinds of labour,
  And he that is without a wife,
    may borrow of his neighbour.

  There is no law, nor lawyers fees,
    all men are free from fury,
  For e'ery one do's what he please,
    without a judge or jury:
  The summer-time is warm they say,
    the winter's ne'er the Colder,
  They have no landlords rent to pay,
    each man is a free-holder.

  You that are free to cross the seas,
    make no more disputation,
  At _Lubberland_, you'll live at ease,
    with pleasant recreation:
  The captain waits but for a gale,
    of prosperous wind and weather,
  And that they soon will hoist up sail,
    make hast away together.

Printed for _J. Deacon_,[F. 27] at the Angel in _Gilt Spur Street_.

    [Footnote 25: Richard Pocock, who licensed from 1685 to 1688.]

    [Footnote 26: Salt beef.]

    [Footnote 27: Jonah Deacon published from 1684 to 1695.]


[4.] An ignorant Country Fellow coming along _Paternoster Row_, had
occasion to change a Half-Crown into small money, and looking over
a Grate which stood on the Stall, there sate a large Monkey, whom he
prayed to change his Money; the Monkey took it and put it into the
Till of the Compter, where he had observed to be put, and then came
and Grinn'd at the Man, who, being in a passion, made a noise at the
Door, whereat the man of the Shop, coming into the Shop, asked him
what was the matter? _Sir_, said he, _I gave your Son half a Crown
to change, and he will not give it me again, but laughs at me, and
will not give me one word of answer, tho I have asked him for it many
a time._


  The old name of Robbing,      [13.]
    Is now call'd Padding,
  For when the Padders have done,
    Their Lodgings are ta'ne
  At the Rope in Tyburn Lane
    In the Parish of _Paddington_.


Epitaph

_On an usurer._

  Here lies at least ten in the hundred,      [14.]
  Shackled up both hands and feet,
  That at such as lent mony _gratis_ wondred,
  The gain of usury was so sweet;
  But thus being now of life bereav'n
  'Tis a hundred to one he's scarce gone to heav'n.


[8.] In Chancery, one time, when the Councel of the parties set forth
the boundary of the Land in question, by the plot, and the Councel
of one part said, we lie on this side my Lord, and the Councel of the
other part said, we lie on this side. The Lord Chancellor _Hatton_
stood up and said, _If you lie on both sides, whom will you have me to
believe?_


_In praise of the Black Jack[F. 28]_

  Be your liquor small, or as thick as mudd.      [13.]
  The Cheating bottle cryes, good, good, good,
  Whereat the master begins to storme,
  'Cause he said more than he could performe.
      _And I wish that his heires may never want Sack,
      That first devis'd the bonny black Jack._

  No Tankerd, Flaggon, Bottle nor Jugg
  Are half so good, or so well can hold Tugg,
  For when they are broke or full of cracks,
  Then they must fly to the brave black Jacks,
      _And I wish &c._

  When the Bottle and Jack stands together, O fie on't,
  The Bottle looks just like a dwarfe to a Gyant;
  Then had we not reason Jacks to chuse
  For this'l make Boots, when the Bottle mends shoes.
      _And I wish &c._

  And as for the bottle you never can fill it
  Without a Tunnell, but you must spill it,
  'Tis as hard to get in, as it is to get out,
  'Tis not so with a Jack, for it runs like a spout.
      _And I wish &c._

  And when we have drank out all our store,
  The Jack goes for Barme to brew us some more;
  And when our Stomacks with hunger have bled,
  Then it marches for more to make us some bread.
      _And I wish &c._

  I now will cease to speak of the Jack,
  But hope his assistance I never shall lack,
  And I hope that now every honest man,
  Instead of Jack will y'clip him John.
    And I wish &c.

    [Footnote 28: A bottle made of leather. Sometimes they were
    ornamented with silver rims, and a silver plate with the
    owner's coat of arms thereon; but generally they were very
    rough.]


[18.] A melting Sermon being preached in a Country Church, all fell
a weeping, except a Country man, who being ask'd why he did not weep
with the rest? _Because_ (says he) _I am not of this Parish_.


[18.] A Country-man admiring the stately Fabrick of S. _Pauls_
Cathedral, asked _Whether it was made in_ England, _or brought from
beyond Sea_.



The invincible

PRIDE of WOMEN

or

The _London_ Tradesman's Lamentation

  For the Prodigality of his Wife, which doth daily
              pillage his Purse.


To the Tune of the _Spinning Wheel_.

Licensed according to orders.

  I have a Wife, the mores my Care,      [20.]
    who like a gaudy Peacock goes,
  In Top Knots, Patches, Powder'd Hair,
    besides she is the worst of shrows;
  This fills my Heart with grief and care
  To think I must this burthen bear.

  It is her forecast to Contrive
    to rise about the hour of Noon,
  And, if she's Trimm'd and Rigg'd by Five
    why this I count is very soon:
  Then goes she to a Ball or Play
  To pass the pleasant night away.

  And when she home returns again
    conducted by a Bully Spark,
  If that I in the least complain,
    she does my words and actions mark:
  And does likewise my Gullet tear,
  Then roars like Thunder in the Air.

  I never had a Groat with her
    most solemnly I here declare,
  Yet she's as proud as_ Lucifer_,
    and cannot study what to wear:
  In sumptuous Robes she still appears
  While I am forc'd to hide my Ears.

  The lofty Top Knots on her Crown,
    with which she sails abroad withal,
  Makes me with Care alas! look down,
    as having now no hope at all:
  That ever I shall happy be
  In such a flaunting Wife as she.

[Illustration]

  In debt with ev'ry Shop she runs
    for to appear in gaudy Pride,
  And when the Millener she duns,
    I then am forc'd my Head to hide:
  Dear Friends, this proud imperious Wife
  She makes me weary of my Life.

  Sometimes with words both kind and mild
    I let her know my wretched state,
  For which I streightways am Revil'd:
    says she, I will appear more Great
  Than any Merchants _London_ Dame,
  Tho' thou art ruin'd for the same.

  'Tis true she is both fair and young,
    and speaks _Italian_, _Greek_, _and Dutch_,
  Besides she hath the scolding Tongue,
    which is, in faith, a Tongue too much:
  I dare not speak nor look awry,
  For fear of her severity.

  My worldly glory, joy and bliss
    is turn'd to sorrow, grief and care,
  He that has such a Wife as this,
    needs no more torment I declare:
  To buy those Trinkets which they lack,
  Both Stock and Credit goes to Rack.

  There's many more, as well as I,
    in famous _London_ City fair,
  Whose Wives with prodigality
    doth fill their Husbands hearts with care;
  I pity those with all my Heart,
  Since I with them do bear a Part.


[4.] Two Persons who had been formerly acquainted, but had not seen
each other a great while, meeting on the Road, one ask'd the other
how he did; he told him He was very well, and was Married since he
saw him: the other reply'd, That was well indeed: not so well neither,
said he, for I have Married a Shrew. That's ill, said the other. Not
so ill neither, said he, for I had 2000 Pounds with her. That's well
again, said his Friend. Not so well neither, for I laid it out in
Sheep, and they died of the Rot. That was ill indeed, said the other.
Not so ill neither, said he, for I sold the Skins for more money than
the Sheep cost. That was well, indeed, quoth his friend. Not so
well neither, said he, for I laid out my money in a House and it was
burned. That's very ill, said the other. Not so ill neither, said he,
_for my Wife was burned in it_.


_On a little Gentleman and one Mr Story._

  The little man, by t'other man's vain glory,      [5.]
  It seems was roughly us'd (so says the story)
  But being a little heated and high blown,
  In anger flyes at _Story_, puls him down;
  And when they rise (I know not how it fated)
  One got the worst, the _Story_ was translated
  From white to red, but ere the fight was ended
  It seems a Gentleman, that one befriended,
  Came in and parted them; the little blade,
  There's none that could intreat, or yet perswade,
  But he would fight still, till another came,
  And with sound reasons councel'd gainst the same.
  'Twas in this manner; friend, ye shall not fight
  With one that's so unequall to your height,
  _Story_ is higher; t'other made reply,
  I'd pluck him down were he three _Stories_ high.


[18.] A Tradesman that would never work by Candle light, was asked the
reason why? _To save Candles_, says he; _a Peny saved is a Peny got_.


_Epitaph on a Scrivener._

  Here to a period is a Scriv'ner come;      [13.]
  This is his last sheet, full point and total sum.
  Of all aspersions, I excuse him not,
  'Tis plain, he liv'd not without many a blot;
  Yet he no ill example shew'd to any,
  But rather gave good coppies unto many,
  He in good Letters alwayes had been bred,
  And hath writ more, than many men have read.

  He Rulers had at his command by law,
  Although he could not hang, yet he could draw.
  He did more Bond men make than any,
  A dash of's pen alone did ruine many.
  That not without all reason we may call
  His letters, great or little, Capitall;
  Yet 'tis the Scrivner's fate as sure as Just,
  When he hath all done, then he falls to dust.


[8.] One was saying that his great Grandfather, and Grandfather, and
Father died at Sea. Said another that heard him, and I were you,
I would never come at Sea. Why, saith he, where did your great
Grandfather, Grandfather and Father die? He answered, where, but in
their beds? saith the other, _And I were as you, I would never come to
bed_.


_These following are to be understood two ways._

  I saw a Peacock, with a fiery tail.      [13.]
  I saw a blazing Comet, drop down hail.
  I saw a Cloud, with ivy Circled round.
  I saw a sturdy Oak, creep on the ground.
  I saw a Pismire,[F. 29] swallow up a Whale.
  I saw a raging Sea, brim full of Ale.
  I saw a Venice Glass, sixteen foot deep.
  I saw a Well, full of mens tears that weep.
  I saw their Eyes, all in a flame of fire.
  I saw a House, as big as the Moon and higher.
  I saw the Sun, even in the midst of night
  I saw the Man that saw this wondrous sight.

    [Footnote 29: An ant.]


      One writ _Olivarius_      [12.]
      Instead of Oliverus
  In _Oliver's_ time; 'twas his will,
      And his reason was good,
      If well understood,
  'Cause he varies from _verus_ still.

      A man he did say      [12.]
      To his friend t'other day,
  That his sow had lost her life;
      Sayes one Mr _Howes_,
      Now you talk of Sowes,
  Pray, Neighbour, how does your wife?


[18.] _John Scot_ so famous for his Learning, sitting at Table with a
young Gallant, was by way of Jest, asked by him what Difference there
was between _Scot_ and _Sot_. To which he presently reply'd _Mensa
tantum_, that is the Tables breadth; for the other sat just over
against him.



=The Devil's Oak:=

or, his

  Ramble in a Tempestuous Night, where he
      hapn'd to Discourse with Men of
        several Callings, of his own
          Colour and Complexion.

_To a very pleasant new Tune._

  And the Devil he was weather-beat,      [21.]
    and forc'd to take a tree,
  Because the tempest was so great,
    his way he could not see:
  But under an Oak, instead of a Cloak,
    he stood to keep himself dry,
  And as he stood, a Fryer in his hood,
    by chance came passing by.

  And the Devil he made the Fryer afraid,
    with that he crost his breast;
  Then up the Devil started, the Fryer was faint-hearted,
    you may wink and choose the best:
  For I am the Fryer, and thou art the Lyar,
    therefore thou art my father;
  I am a Doctor of Evil, and thou art the Devil,
    the worser I hold thee rather.

  A Collier and his Cart came by,
    which coals he did use to carry.
  And as soon as the Devil he did him espy,
    he caused him awhile to tarry:
  For why, I do think that with thee I must drink,
    and he called for a glass of claret;
  Now I find by thy smell, that thou camest from hell,
    and I fear thou hast stole my chariot.

[Illustration]

  The next that came by was a Chimney Sweeper,
    with poles, his brooms, and shackles,
  What meanest thou, Man, the Devil he said,
    that thou usest all those tackles?
  I pry thee gentle Blade, tell me thy trade,
    thy face it is so besmeared,
  Hadst thou been so black, and no tools at thy back,
    thou'dst have made me sore afraid.

  Sir, a Chimney Sweeper I do profess,
    although my trade's but mean,
  It is for to sweep all dirty holes,
    and to keep foul chimneys clean:
  Then go to Hell, where the Devil doth dwell,
    and he will give thee a piece,
  God a mercy, old Dog, when I sheer my hog
    then thou shalt have the fleece.

  The next that came by was a tawny Moor,
    and the Devil bid him see,
  And he fleered on his tawny skin,
    crying, Friend, art thou any kin to me?
  For sure your skin doth resemble our kin,
    therefore let us walk together,
  And tell me how you do allow,
    of this tempestuous weather.

  Then the next that came by was a Gun-powder man,
    which coales and brimstone sifted,
  That in three quarters of a year,
    himself had hardly shifted:
  Then up the Devil rose, and snuffed his nose,
    he could indure it no longer,
  Cry'd, Away with this fume, 'tis not fit for the room
    it will neither quench thirst, no, nor hunger.

  I pre thee, gentle Blade, tell me thy trade,
    as thou hast so strong a smell,
  It is for to make gunpowder, he said,
    for to blow the Devil out of Hell:
  And if I had him here, his joynts would I tear,
    he should neither scratch, no, nor bite,
  I would plague the Devil, for all his evil,
    and make him leave walking by night.

  Then a Tinker worse than all the rest,
    although he was not so black,
  By chance as he came passing by,
    with his budget on his back:
  He cry'd, Yonder is the Devil's tree
    let us see who dar'st go thither,
  For it will sustain, from the wind and the rain,
    or any tempestuous weather.

  That shall be try'd, the Devil then he cry'd,
    then up the Devil he did start,
  Then the Tinker threw his staff about,
    and he made the Devil to smart:
  There against a gate, he did break his pate,
    and both his horns he broke:
  And ever since that time, I will make up my rhime,
    it was called _The Devil's Oak_.

Printed for C. Bates,[F. 30] at the Sun and Bible, in Pye Corner.

    [Footnote 30: Charles Bates, at this address (there were three
    contemporary C. Bates), published in 1685.]


[4.] A Wine Cooper in _Mark Lane_ taking a Gentleman down into his
Cellar to Treat him, he, finding no Seat there for him to sit on,
asked him the reason of it; _Why_, says the Wine Cooper, _I will have
no Man here Drink longer than he can stand._


  _To Doctor_ Sheerhood _how Sack makes one leane_.     [16.]
  I marveld much last day what you did meane,
  To say that drinking Sack will make one leane;
  But now I see, I then mistooke you cleane,
  For my good neighbour _Marcus_, who I tro,
  Feares fatness much, this drinke hath plyde him so,
  That now except he leane he cannot goe.
  Ha, gentle Doctor, now I see your meaning,
  Sack will not leave one leane, 'twill leave him leaning.


      _Tom's_ Ears being lost,      [12.]
      For fear of the frost
  The haire very long he wears;
      Then ask him why he will
      Not cut it; he still
  Says he dares not for his ears.


[8.] A debaucht Seaman being brought before a Justice of Peace upon
the account of swearing, was by the Justice commanded to deposit his
Fine in that behalf provided, which was two shillings, he thereupon
plucking out of his pocket a half crown, asked the Justice what was
the rate he was to pay for cursing, the Justice told him six pence,
quoth he then, A Pox take you all for a company of Knaves and fools,
and there's half a crown for you; I will never stand changing of mony.


The Long Nos'd Lass

is evidently traceable to Miss Tannakin Skinker, who was born in 1618;
but it is astonishing how widely spread is the belief in "Pig faced
Ladies." No doubt but there has been some foundation in fact for it,
for I am credibly informed that not long since,[F. 31] a child, whose
face bore a singular likeness to a pig, was born in the City of London
Lying-in Hospital in the City Road--and not only survived its birth,
but is in all probability still living. In 1815 a pig-faced lady,
elegantly dressed, used to drive about London in her carriage; but
whether people were being hoaxed by one wearing a mask is not known.
George Morland painted a portrait of the "Wonderful Miss Atkinson Born
in Ireland, has £20,000 fortune and is fed out of a Silver Trough,"
and Fairburn published an engraving of her. Miss Steevens, who founded
Steeven's Hospital at Dublin, is also credited with being pig-faced;
whilst pig-faced ladies used commonly to be shown at fairs. But these
were fictitious, as a quarrel in a caravan at Plymouth, some years
since, brought to light, when it was shown that her ladyship was a
bear whose face and neck had been carefully shaved, whilst its
head was adorned with a wig with ringlets and a cap with artificial
flowers. The bear was securely fastened in a chair, and draped to
imitate a fashionably-dressed lady.

It is, however, with the contemporary monstrosity that we have chiefly
to deal, and a very rare tract in the Bodleian Library[F. 32] gives
"A certaine Relation of the Hog faced Gentlewoman called Mistris
_Tannakin Skinker_, who was borne at _Wirkham_ a Neuter Towne betweene
the Emperour and the Hollander, scituate on the river Rhyne. Who was
bewitched in her mothers wombe in the yeare 1618, and hath lived ever
since unknowne in this kind to any, but her Parents and a few other
neighbours. And can never recover her true shape tell she be married
&c. _Also relating the cause, as it is since conceived, how her mother
came so bewitched._ _London._ Printed by _J. O._ and are to be sold
by _F. Grove_,[F. 33] at his shop on _Snow-hil_ neare _St Sepulchers
Church_." 1640.

This veracious history gives an account of various remarkable births.
"But I come now to humane Births, beginning with those forraigne, and
ending with the domesticke; about the beginning of the Marsick Warre,
one _Alcippe_, a woman of especiall note, at the time of her childing,
was delivered of an Elephant; and another (whose name is not left unto
us) of a Serpent. In _Thessaly_, one was brought to bed of an infant
which had the shape of an Hypocentaure, and expired the same day that
it received breath," etc.

After thus paving the way for his own particular marvel, the writer
goes on: "I fall now immediatly upon the party before propounded. In
a place in _Holland_ called _Wirkham_, being a neuter Towne; as lying
between _Holland_ and those parts belonging to the Empire, on the
River _Rhine_, lived one _Ioachim Skinker_, whose wife's name was
_Parnel_, a man of good revenue, but of a great estate in money and
cattle; these two having very loving lived together without any issue
to succeed them in their goods and inheritance: it being no small
griefe unto them, that either strangers, or some of their owne
ungrateful kindred should after death enjoy those meanes, for which
they had so laboriously travail'd: When they were in their greatest
despaire, it hapned thus, she found herselfe conceived with childe,
which was a greater joy and comfort to her and her husband: But
whether they were unthankful for such an unexpected blessing, or
what other thing was the cause, I am not able to determine; but it
so hapned, that in the yeere 1618, she was safely delivered of a
Daughter, all the limbes and lineaments of her body well featured and
proportioned, only her face, which is the ornament and beauty of all
the rest, had the Nose of a Hog, or Swine: which was not only a stain
and blemish, but a deformed uglinesse, making all the rest lothsome,
contemptible and odious to all that lookt upon her in her infancie.

"If the joy of the parents was great in the hope of a Childe, how much
greater may wee conjecture their sorrowes were, to be the parents of
such a monster: but considering with themselves what Heavens would
have, they had not power to hinder, and studying (as farre as in them
lay) to conceale their shame, they so farre mediated with the Midwife
and the other women that were present at the delivery, that they
should keepe it as close and secret as it was possible to doe: and
they called the name of it _Tannikin_, which is as much in English as
_Anne_ or _Hannah_. . . . . . . . . . . .

"This prodigious birth though it was knowne to some few, yet it was
not made popular & spoken of by all, which the Father and Mother for
their owne reputations and credits were very carefull to maintaine; so
that it was never seene by any (being an infant bare-fac'd) but vail'd
and covered, and so brought up in a private Chamber, both fed and
taught by the Parents onely; and her deformity scarce knowne to any of
the Servants: and as the daughter grew in stature, so the Father
also increased with wealth, so that he was accounted to be one of the
richest men in all that Country. . . . . . . . .

"It is credibly reported, that this Burgess wife having conceived, an
old woman suspected for a Witch came to begge of her an Almes, but she
being at that (time) busied about some necessary affaires gave her
a short and neglectfull answer; at which she went away muttering to
herselfe the Divell's _Pater noster_, and was heard to say; _As the
Mother is Hoggish, so Swinish shall be the Child shee goeth withall_:
which is a great probability that the infants deformity came by the
malitious Spells and divelish murmurations of this wicked woman;
who, after, for the like, or worse practises both upon men women
and children whom she had bewitched unto death, being brought within
compasse of the Law; and after to suffer at the stake; amongst many
other things confessed as much as I have before related; yet either
out of her perverse obstinacy would not, or else (the Devill
forsaking her in extreamity, as he doth all his other servants) in her
deficiency of power, could not uncharme her: yet by this means that
which was before kept so private, was now publickly discovered to
the World; insomuch that much confluence of people came to see the
progedy, which wearied the Father, and cast a blush upon the cheekes
of the good woman the mother: some desirous to heare her speake, whose
language was onely the Dutch Hoggish Houghs, and the Piggs French
Owee, Owee, for other words she was not able to utter; which bred
in some, pitty, in others laughter, according to their severall
dispositions.

"Others were importunate to see her feede, then milke and the like
was brought unto her in a Silver Trough; to which she stooped and eate
just as a Swine doth in his swilling Tub; which the more mirth it bred
in the Spectators, increased in the Parents the more Melancholy."

From this part the tract gets more and more romantic. An astrologer
was consulted, and he advised her being married, when her cure _might_
be effected. So the parents gave out that she would have a dowry of
£40,000 paid down on her marriage. Then follows a list of her suitors,
and after an episode which has nothing to do with the matter in hand,
the tract winds up: "I should have spoken something of her residing
in or about _London_, as of her being in _Black Friers_, or _Covent
Garden_, but I can say little: onely abundance of people doe resort to
each place to enquire the truth: some have protested they have seene
her, by the helpe of their acquaintance and give this reason why she
will not as yet be Constantly in one place, because the multitude is
so great that doe resort thither that they dare not be knowne of her
abiding, lest by denying the sight of her, they that own the house
should have it pulled down about their eares. Her portion is very
large, it being 40,000 pounds; she likewise goeth very gallant in
aparrell, and very courteous in her kind to all. And whoever shall in
Pamphlet, or Ballad, write or sing otherwise than is discoursed of in
this small Tract, they erre from truth: for what is here discovered,
is according to the best and most approved Intelligence."

    [Footnote 31: Some time between 25th June and 29th September
    1881.]

    [Footnote 32: A wonderful lithographic facsimile by Francis
    Compton Price, Esq., is in the British Museum, 12205. h.,
    catalogued under the heading _Skinker_.]

    [Footnote 33: Francis Grove published between 1620 and 1655.]



The Long-Nos'd LASS

or

The _Taylors_, _Millers_, _Tinkers_, _Tanners_, and _Glovers_; with
a great number of other Tradesmen, dash't out of Countenance by
a SOW-SHIPS Beauty, to their great discontent, and her perpetual
trouble.


Tune of _The Country Farmer_.

This may be printed R. P.


[Illustration]

  O did you not hear of a Rumor of late,         [22.]
  Concerning a person whose Fortune was great;
  Her portion was Seventeen thousand good pound,
  But yet a good Husband was not to be found:
  The reason of this I will tell to you now,
  Her visage was perfectly just like a Sow,
  And many to Court her came flocking each day,
  But seeing her, straight they run frighted away.

  Amongst all the rest, a fine _Taylor_ also,
  Resolv'd to this person a Suitor to go;
  Quoth he, at the present, alas I am poor,
  Of Silver and Gold I shall then have good store:
  Tis _Cowcomber_[F. 34] time, and I now have no Trade,
  But if I do get her, I then shall be made,
  Therefore I will put on the best of my Cloaths,
  My Hat, with my Band, and my _Holyday_ Hose.

  The hopes of this Fortune his fancy did feed,
  And therefore to her he did hasten with speed,
  When coming, he straight for this person did ask,
  She came her own self in a fine Visor, Mask;
  And said, I am she, Sir, pray what would you have?
  I'm come, quoth the _Taylor_, your Love for to crave;
  She open'd the door, and bid him welcome in,
  And then to his Courting he straight did begin.

  The _Taylor_ went on with a noble good grace,
  Like one of much Courage his Love to Embrace;
  Thought he, with a Fortune I now shall be blest,
  But, listen, I pray, to the Cream of the Jest:
  She pull'd off her Vizor, and turn'd her about,
  And straightway the _Taylor_ beheld her long Snout;
  Ah! how he was frighted and run out of door,
  And vow'd he would never come near her no more.

  The next was a Miller who to her did Ride,
  Resolved he was for to make her his Bride;
  Quoth he, as I now am a right honest Man,
  I'le Wed her and Love her as well as I can;
  For Beauty, O let it be now as it will,
  As long as she brings me good Grist to the Mill;
  Both Silver and Gold I shall have at Command,
  With which I will Purchase me Houses and Land.

  I now in conceit am as great as a Lord,
  What pleasures soever the World can afford,
  I'le have it, and likewise in Silver will shine,
  Then _Gillian_ will wonder to see me so fine:
  To _Robin_ my Servant, I'le give my great Bowl,
  With which I was formerly us'd to take Toll,
  And likewise the Mill, if I marry this Maid,
  For never no more will I follow the Trade.

  As he was a riding to her on his Mare,
  He thus was a building Castles in the air;
  But when he beheld her most amiable Face,
  Alas! he was soon in a sorrowful Case;
  His hopes were confounded, away he did run,
  Saying, should I have her, a thousand to one.
  But I shall be frighted, when her I behold,
  Therefore I'le not have her for Silver or Gold.

  Both _Tinkers_ and _Tanners_ and _Glovers_ also
  Came to her, the Money encouraged them so;
  Nay, thousands came to her then every day,
  Each striving to carry this Beauty away:
  But when they beheld this most ordinary stuff,
  The sight of her Visage did give them enuff;
  Yet if she be Marry'd while here she does live,
  A perfect account of the Wedding I'le give.

Printed for _P. Brooksby_[F. 35] at the _Golden Ball_ in _Pye Corner_.

    [Footnote 34: _i.e._ People had their summer clothes, and
    business was slack until the autumn.]

    [Footnote 35: He published from 1672 to 1695.]


[17.] Says one, why is thy Beard so brown, and thy head so white?
_Cause_, says he, _my head is twenty years older than my beard_.


[4.] A Tinker coming through _Cornhill_, and sounding briskly on his
kettle, _Have you any Work for a Tinker?_ A Grocer that thought to
put a Jest upon him (there being a Pillory near his door) bid him stop
those two Holes, pointing to the Pillory: to whom the Tinker smartly
replyed, _Sir, if you will lend me your Head and Ears, I will find a
Hammer and Nails, and give you my Work into the bargain_.


_A Dialogue concerning Hair, between a Man and a Woman._

M.

  Ask me no more why I do wear      [13.]
  My Hair so far below my ear:[F. 36]
  For the first Man that e're was made
  Did never know the Barbers Trade.

W.

  Ask me no more where all the day
  The foolish Owl doth make her stay:
  Tis in your Locks; for tak't from me,
  She thinks your hair an Ivy tree.

M.

  Tell me no more that length of hair
  Can make my visage look less fair;
  For how so'er my hair doth fit,
  I'm sure that yours comes short of it.[F. 37]

W.

  Tell me no more men wear long hair
  To chase away the Colder air;
  For by experience we may see
  Long hair will but a back friend be.

M.

  Tell me no more that long hair can
  Argue deboistness[F. 38] in a man;
  For 'tis Religious being inclin'd
  To save the Temples from the wind.

W.

  Ask me no more why Roarers wear
  Their hair extant below their ear;
  For having morgag'd all their Land,
  They'd fain oblige the appearing Band.

M.

  Ask me no more why hair may be
  The expression of Gentility:
  'Tis that which being largely grown
  Derives its Gentry from the Crown.

W.

  Ask me no more why grass being grown,
  With greedy Sickle is cut down,
  Till short and sweet; So ends my Song,
  Lest that long hair should grow too long.

    [Footnote 36: Prynne was especially exercised in his mind
    about this fashion, and wrote a book called "The Unlovelinesse
    of Love Lockes, or a Summarie discourse, proving the wearing
    and nourishing of a locke or love locke to be altogether
    unseemly and unlawfull unto Christians" (1628), and also "A
    Gagge for Long Hair'd Rattle Heads &c." (1646).]

    [Footnote 37: An allusion to the curly crops and fringe over
    the forehead then worn by ladies.]

    [Footnote 38: Debauchedness.]


      Some did ask Tom Gold      [12.]
      What's Latin for Cold;
  Why truly, says he, my Friends,
      I know it full well,
      And I feel I can tell,
  For I hav't at my fingers ends.


[18.] A Papist asked a Protestant, as 'tis their usual Way, where his
Religion was before _Luther_. _In the Bible_, says he, _where yours
never was_.


[8.] A witty Rogue coming into a lace shop, said he had occasion for
some lace, choice wherof being shewed him, he at last pitched upon one
pattern, and asked them how much they would have for so much as would
reach from ear to ear, for so much he had occasion for, and they told
him for so much; so some few words passing between them, he at last
agreed, and told down his money for it, and began to measure on his
own head, thus saying, _One ear is here, and the other is nailed to
the Pillory in_ Bristoll, _and I fear you have not so much of this
Lace by you_ at present as will perfect my bargain; therefore this
piece of Lace shall suffice at present in part of payment, & provide
the rest with all expedition.



MARK NOBLE'S FROLLICK;

who being

Stopp'd by the Constable near to the Tower, was examin'd where he had
been; whither he was going; and his Name and Place where he dwelt: to
which he answered, Where the Constable would have been glad to have
been, and where he was going he dared not go for his Ears, as likewise
his Name, which he called _Twenty Shillings_; with an Account of what
followed and how he came off.

To the Tune of _The New Rant_.

Licensed according to order.


  One night at a very late hour      [23.]
    a Watchmaker home did repair;
  When coming along by the Tower,
    was stopp'd by the Constable there.

  Friend, come before Mr Constable,
    to see what his Worship will say,
  You'd have me do more than I'm able,
    I fear I shall fall by the way.

  Sir, tell me, and do not deceive me,
    where have you been playing your part?
  Kind Mr Constable, believe me,
    where you'd have been with al your heart.

  Sweet Bacchus in Bumpers were flowing,
    which Liquor all mortal Men chears,
  And now, after all, I am going,
    where you dare not come for your Ears.

[Illustration]

  Your Words they are sawcy and evil,
    this may be a Charge to your Purse;
  For why? you are something uncivil,
    to answer a Constable thus.

  Oh, where do you dwell with a whennion?[F. 39]
    cross Humours we will not allow,
  Sir, out of the King's own Dominion,
    pray, what can you say to me now?

  Pray what is your name you cross Villain;
    be sure that you answer me true;
  Why, Sir, It is just _Twenty Shilling_,
    I think I have satisfied you.

  What Trade are you, Brewer or Baker?
    or do you a Waterman ply?
  No, Sir, I'm an honest Watch-maker,
    my Trade I will never deny.

  Have you e'er a Watch you can show, Sir?
    we'll see how it sutes with our Clocks;
  Yes, faith, and a Constable too, Sir.
    I wish you were all in the Stocks.

  You Sawcy impertinent Fellow,
    because you have answered me so,
  Although your mad Brains they be mellow,
    this Night to a Prison you go.

  Therefore without any more dodging,
    the Lanthorns was lighted streightway;
  They guarded him to his strong Lodging,
    to lye there while Nine the next day.

  Next Morning the Constable brought him.
    before a Justice to appear,
  And earnestly then he besought him,
    a Sorrowfull Story to hear.

  Of all the Transactions he told him,
    to which the good Justice reply'd,
  From Liberty he would withold him,
    till the Naked Truth should be try'd.

  The Tradesman returned this Answer,
    the Truth I will never deny;
  If I may speak without Offence, Sir,
    I scorn to be catch'd in a Lye.

  I said nothing which was unfitting,
    as solemnly here I profess;
  The King, he is King of Great Britain
    and I live in Britain the less.[F. 40]

  The next thing that causes the Trouble,
    my Name he would have me to show,
  The which is right honest _Mark Noble_,[F. 41]
    and that's Twenty Shillings you know.

  Then asking me where I was going,
    and I being void of all Fears,
  Right readily made him this Answer,
    where he dare not go for his Ears.

  I rambl'd all day, yet the Centre,
    at night was to lye by my Wife,
  Instead of his Ears, should he venture,
    i' faith it might cost him his Life.

  Now when he had given this Relation,
    of all that had past in the night,
  It yielded most pleasant Diversion,
    the Justice he laughed outright.

  It seems that a Glass of Canary,
    conducted the Gallant along:
  I find that he's nothing but merry,
    intending no manner of wrong.

  Therefore I will free him from Prison
    without any Charges or Fees,
  It being no more than right reason,
    you watch not for such men as these.

Printed for _B. Deacon_ at _the Angel_ in _Giltspur Street_.

    [Footnote 39: "Wanion," with a vengeance, with a plague.]

    [Footnote 40: Little Britain, by Aldersgate Street.]

    [Footnote 41: A mark was a coin worth 13s. 4d., and a noble
    6s. 8d.]


[17.] A Gentleman ask'd a Shepherd, whether that River was to be
passed over or not: Yes, says he, but going to try, flounc'd over head
and ears. Why thou Rogue, says he, did you not tell me it might be
past over? Truly, Sir, says he, I thought so, _for my Geese go over
and back again every day_.


      One did ask why B      [12.]
      Was set before C,
  And did much desire to know;
      Why, a man must be,
      Before he can see,
  And I think I have hit on't now.


_Against Swearing._

  In elder times an ancient custome was      [6.]
  To sweare in weighty matters by the Masse.
  But when the Masse went downe (as old men note)
  They sware then by the Crosse of this same grote.[F. 42]
  But when the Crosse was likewise held in scorne,
  Then by their faith, the common oth was sworne.
  Last, having sworne away all faith and troth,
  Only God damn them is the common oth.
      Thus custome kept decorum by gradation,
      That losing Masse, Crosse, Faith, they find damnation.

    [Footnote 42: Queen Elizabeth's groats were the last bearing a
    cross on the reverse. James I. coined none.]


_One fighting with his wife._

  _Meg_ and her husband _Tom_, not long agoe,      [24.]
  Were at it close, exchanging blow for blow.
  Both being eager, both of a stout heart,
  Endured many a bang ere they would part.
      _Peter_ lookt on & would not stint the strife,
      He's curst (quoth he) that parteth man and wife.



=The Welch Mans Inventory.=

Han Infentory of the Couds of _William Morgan_, ap_ Renald_, ap
_Hugh_, ap _Richard_, ap _Thomas_, ap _Evan_, ap _Rice_, in the County
of _Clamorgan_, Shentleman.


    _Imprimis._ In the _Pantry of Poultry_ (for hur own eating)
    One creat Pig four Week old, one Coose, one Cock Gelding, two
    Black puddings, three Cow-foots.

    _Item._ In the _Pantry of Plate_, one Grid-iron, one Fripan,
    one Tripan, three Wooden Ladle, three Cann.

    _Item._ In the _Napery_, two Towel, two Table Cloath, four
    Napkin, one for hurself, one for hur Wife _Shone_, two for
    Cusen _Shon_ ap _Powell_ and _Thomas_ ap _Hugh_, when was come
    to hur House.

[Illustration: Hur Armory Hur Pantry Hur Cattle]

    _Item._ In the _Wardrope_, one Irish Rugg, one Frize Sherkin,
    one Sheepskin Tublet,[F. 43] Two Irish Stocking, two Shooe,
    six leather Points.

    _Item._ In the _Tary_,[F. 44] one Toasting Shees, three oaten
    Cake, three Pint of Cow Milk, one pound of Cow Butter.

    _Item_ in the _Kitchen_, one Pan with white Curd, two White
    pot, two Red Herring, nine Sprat.

    _Item._ In the _Cellar_, one Firkin of Wiggan, two Gallon
    sower Sider, one Pint of Perry, one little Pottle of
    _Carmarden_ Sack, _alias_ Metheglin.

    _Item._ In the _Armory of Weapon_, to kill her Enemy, One Pack
    Sword, two edge, two Welsh-hook, three long Club one Cunn, one
    Mouse trap.

    _Item._ In the _Carden_, One Ped Carlike, nine Onion, twelve
    Leek, twelve Worm, twelve Frog.

    _Item._ In the _Leas-way_. Two Tun Cow, one Mountain Calf.

    _Item._ In the _Common-field_, Two Welch Nag, twelve long
    leg'd Sheep, fourteen and twenty Coat.

    _Item._ In the _Proom Close_, three Robin Run-hole, four Hare,
    _hur own Coods if hur can catch hur_.

    _Item._ In the _Parn_ one half Heblet of Oate, seven Pea, two
    Pean.

    _Item._ In the _Study_ (_py Cot hur was almost forgot hur_)
    One Welch Pible, two Almanack, one _Erra Pater_,[F. 45] one
    Seven Champions[F. 46] for St _Taffy_ sake, twelve
    Pallat,[F. 47] one Pedigree.

    _Item._ In the _Closet_ Two Straw hat, one louse.

    _Item._ In the _Ped_. Two naked Pody, one Shirt, one Flannel
    smock at hur Ped's head.

    _Item._ More Cattle about the House. Two Tog, three Cat,
    twelve Mouse (_pox on hur, was eat hur toot Cheese_) 1000
    White Flea with black Pack.

    _Item._ More Lumber about the _House_. One Wife, two Shild,
    one call hur Plack _Shack_, and t'other little _Morgan_.

    _Item._ In the _Yard_ under the Wall, one Wheel, two Pucket,
    one Ladder, two Rope.

_This Inventory taken Note in the presence of hur own Cusen_ Rowland
Merideth _ap_ Howel _and_ Lowellin Morgan _ap_ William _in_ Anno
1849,[F. 48] _upon the Ten and Thirtieth of Shune_.

The above named _William Morgan_ dyed when hur had threescore and
twenty years, thirteen Months, one Week and Seven days.


_A NOTE of some LEGACY of a creat deal of Coods, bequeathed to hur
Wife and hur two Shild, and all hur Cusens, and Friends and Kindred in
the Manner as followeth._

    _Imprimis._ Was give hur teer Wife, _Shone Morgan_, awl hur
    Coods in the Ped, over the Ped, and under the Ped.

    _Item._ Was give to hur eldest Son _Plack Shack_, 40 and
    12 Card to play at Whipper Shinny 4 Try to sheat hur Cusen:
    besides awl her Land to the fule value of 20 and 10 shillings
    3 groats per Annum.

    _Item._ Was give to hur second Son, Little _Morgan_ ap
    _Morgan_, hur short ladder under the Wall in the Yard and two
    Rope.[F. 49]

    _Item._ Was give to hur Cusen _Rowland Merideth_ ap _Howell_
    and _Lewellin Morgan_ whom was made her Executor, full power
    to pay awl hur Tet, when hur can get Money.

Seal'd and deliver'd in the Presence of _Evan_ ap _Richard_, ap
_Shinkin_, ap _Shone_, hur own Cusen the Tay and Year above written.

Licens'd and Enter'd.

London. Printed by and for W. O.[F. 50] and sold by the Booksellers.

    [Footnote 43: Doublet.]

    [Footnote 44: Dairy.]

    [Footnote 45: An astrological almanac.]

    [Footnote 46: Chap-book of the "Seven Champions of
    Christendom."]

    [Footnote 47: Ballads.]

    [Footnote 48: Probably antedated two centuries to make it more
    comical.]

    [Footnote 49: Is this legacy a gentle intimation to his son
    that he may hang himself?]

    [Footnote 50: Is this William Onley, who published from 1650
    to 1702?]


_Upon one_ Day _that ran away, and laid the Key under Door_.

  Here _Night_ and _Day_ conspire a cheating flight,      [25.]
  For _Day_ they say, is run away by _Night_.
  The Day is past, why, Landlord! where's your rent,
  Cou'd you not see the Day is almost spent.
  Had you but Kept the Watch well, I suppose,
  'Twas no hard thing to Know how the _Day_ goes?
  _Day_ sold and pawn'd and put off what he might,
  Though it were ne'er so dark, _Day_ would be light:
  That he away with so much Rent should get,
  Though _Day_ were light, 'twas no light matter yet.
  You had one Day a Tenant, and wou'd fain
  Your Eyes might one day see that Day again.
  No, Landlord, No; you now may truly say,
  And to your cost too, you have lost a Day,
  By twy-light _Day_ is neither Day nor Night;
  What then? 'twixt both, he's an _Hermaphrodite_.
  Day is departed in a Mist, I fear,
  For _Day_ is broke, yet does not Day appear:
  His pale face now does Day in Owl light shrowd,
  Truth is, at present _Day's_ under a Cloud.
  If you wou'd meet with _Day_ you must be wiser,
  And up betimes, for Day's an early riser.
  Broad Day is early up, but you begin
  To rouze, and then broad Day is shutting in.
  From Sun to Sun are the set times of Pay,
  But you should have been up by break of Day:
  Yet if you had? you had got nothing by 't.
  For _Day_ was Cunning and broke over Night.
  _Day_ like a Candle is gone out, and where,
  None knows, except to th' other Hemisphear.
  You must go look the _Day_ with Candle light,
  This _Day_ was sure begotten in the Night.
  The Lanthorn-looker,[F. 51] if he now began,
  Might find the _Day_, but scarce the honest Man.
  Well, _Day_ farewel; be't spoke to thy small praise
  There's little honesty found now a Day's.
  In vain you do yourself this trouble give,
  You'l never make an even day while you live;
  And yet, who trusted him for any Summe,
  Might have their mony, if the _Day_ were come.
  And when will that be; when the Devil's blind;
  You will this _Day_ at the _Greek_ Calends find.
  For, if the Sun doth hang _behind_ the Change,
  If you can find the _Day before_ 'tis strange.
  Then to the Tavern, Landlord, let's away,
  Chear up your heart, hang't, 'tis a broken Day.
  And for your Rent, never thus Rent your Soul,
  E're long you'l see _Day_ at a little hole:
  Look at the _Counter_[F. 52] when you go that way,
  Early enough, and you'l see peep of _Day_.
  But how now Landlord? what's the matter pray?
  What, can't you sleep, you do so long for _Day_?
  Have you a mind, Sir, to arrest the _Day_?
  There's no such Sergeant as a _Joshua_.
  Why, Landlord, is the Quarter out I pray;
  That you Keep such a quarter for the Day?
  Put off your passion, pray; true, 'tis a Summe:
  But don't you know that a Pay-day will come?
  I'le warrant you, do you but banish sorrow,
  My life for yours, _Day_ comes again to morrow.

    [Footnote 51: Diogenes.]

    [Footnote 52: One of the city prisons.]


[26.] A Person of Quality in this Kingdom, was one night at Supper at
_Pickadilly house_ which was then an Ordinary and great Gaming House,
where he had bowled all day; and after Supper he call'd for some
Cheese, which it seems was very thin and lean; then he ask't the
Master of the House, where those Cows went, of whose Milk that Cheese
was made? He told him they graz'd not far off; then he swore a great
Oath that he was Confident that they never fed in any other place than
his Bowling Alley, which was made good by the fatness of the Cheese
they now tasted of, for it cries _Rub, rub_, in the eating of it, when
'tis so long a going down.

Another person of Quality also, in this Kingdom, amongst other
Gentlemen, did often meet at a Bowling Ally, which stood next to the
Church-yard; and the Parson of that Church had this Benefit, That if
any did swear there, he was to have 12d for every Oath: This Person
aforesaid, happened to swear a great _Goliah_ Oath, upon which the
Parson demanded 12d. which he gave him; and after that swore many
others, for which he paid 12d a piece; and then swearing another,
he demanded 12d as before; then he pluckt out of his pocket a 20
Shilling piece and bid him give him 19s. again. _Sir_, says he, _I
cannot_. _Why then_, says he, _take it for I intend to swear it out_.



THE GREAT BOOBEE.[F. 53]

To a pleasant New Tune or _Sallenger's Round_.


[Illustration]


  My Friend, if you will understand      [28.]
    my Fortunes what they are,
  I once had Cattell, House and Land,
    but now I am never the near;
  My Father left a good estate,
    as I may tell to thee,
  I couzned was of all I had,
    _like a great Boobee_.

  I went to School with a good intent,
    and for to learn my Book,
  And all the day I went to play,
    in it I never did look:
  Full seven years, or very nigh,
    as I may tell to thee,
  I could hardly say my _Christ Cross Row,[F. 54]
    like a great Boobee_.

  My Father then in all the haste,
    did set me to the Plow,
  And for to lash the Horse about,
    indeed I knew not how:
  My Father took his Whip in his hand,
    and soundly lashed me,
  He call'd me Fool and Country Clown,
    _and great Boobee_.

  But I did from my Father run,
    for I will plow no more,
  Because he so had slashed me,
    and made my sides so sore:
  But I will go to _London_ Town
    some Vashions for to see,
  When I came there, they call'd me Clown
    _and great Boobee_.

  But as I went along the street,
    I carried my Hat in my hand,
  And to every one that I did meet,
    I bravely bust[F. 55] my hand:
  Some did laugh, and some did scoff,
    and some did mock at me,
  And some did say I was a _Woodcock,
    and a great Boobee_.

  Then did I walk in hast to _Paul's_
    the Steeple for to view,
  Because I heard some people say,
    it must be builded new;
  Then I got up unto the top,
    the City for to see,
  It was so high, it made me Cry
    _like a great Boobee_.

  From thence I went to Westminster
    and for to see the Tombs,
  Ah, said I, what a house is here,
    with an infinite sight of Rooms?
  Sweetly the Abby bells did ring,
    it was a fine sight to see,
  Methought I was going to Heaven in a string
    _like a great Boobee_.

  But as I went along the Street
    the most part of the day,
  Many gallants did I meet
    methought they were very gay:
  I blew my Nose and foul'd my Hose,
    some people did me see,
  They said I was a Beastly Fool,
    _and a great Boobee_.

  Next day I through _Pye Corner_ past
    the roast meat on the Stall
  Invited me to take a taste
    my Money was but small:
  The Meat I pickt, the Cook me kickt
    as I may tell to thee,
  He beat me sore, and made me rore,
    _like a great Boobee_.

  As I through Smithfield lately walkt
    a gallant Lass I met
  Familiarly with me she talkt,
    which I cannot forget:
  She proferr'd me a pint of Wine,
    methought she was wondrous free,
  To the Tavern then I went with her,
    _like a great Boobee_.

  She told me we were neer of kin,
    and call'd for Wine good store,
  Before the reckoning was brought in
    my Cousin proved a ----:
  My Purse she pickt, and went away,
    my Cousin couzned me,
  The Vintner kickt me out of door,
    _like a great Boobee_.

  At the _Exchange_ when I came there,
    I saw most gallant things,
  I thought the Pictures living were
    of all our English Kings:
  I doft my Hat, and made a Leg,
    and kneeled on my knee,
  The people laught, and call'd me Fool,
    _and great Boobee_.

  To _Paris Garden_[F. 56] then I went,
    where there is great resort,
  My pleasure was my punishment,
    I did not like the sport:
  The Garden Bull with his stout horns
    on high then tossed me,
  I did bewray myself with fear,
    _like a great Boobee_.

  Then o're the Water did I pass,
    as you shall understand,
  I dropt into the Thames alas
    before I came to Land:
  The Water-man did help me out,
    and thus did say to me,
  Tis not thy fortune to be drown'd
    _like a great Boobee_.

  But I have learned so much wit,
    shall shorten all my cares,
  If I can but a License get
    to play before the Bears:
  'Twill be a gallant place indeed,
    as I may tell to thee
  Then who dare call me Fool or Ass
    _or great Boobee_.

Printed for _F. Coles_,[F. 57] in _Wine Street_, on _Saffron Hill_
near _Hatton Garden_.

    [Footnote 53: For tune see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 54: The alphabet, so called because in the old Horn
    books the letters, which were of course in a row, commenced
    with a Cross. In Morley's _Introduction to Practical Music_
    (printed 1597) is the following: "Christes Crosse be my speed,
    in all vertue to proceede A. b. c. d. e. f. g. h. i. k. l. m.
    n. o. p. q. r. s. and t. double u. v. with y, ezod & per se,
    con per se, tittle, tittle est. Amen. When you have done begin
    again, begin again!"]

    [Footnote 55: Kissed (bussed).]

    [Footnote 56: A place at Bankside, Southwark, famous for bull
    and bear baiting.]

    [Footnote 57: Francis Coles published between 1646 and 1674.]


[18.] A pleasant Fancy of an Italian by name _Trivelino_, Who falling
asleep one Day, with his Horse's Bridle twisted in his Arm, another
came who unbridled his Horse and got away. _Trivelino_ being awaked,
and missing his Horse began to feel himself about, saying _Either I
am_ Trivelino, _or not: If I am_ Trivelino _my Horse is lost; If not,
I have got a Bridle, but know not how_.


      A simple Fellow lookt      [12.]
      On a dish that was cookt,
  Wherein was a Calves Head by name;
      One told him, 'twas so clear,
      If he lookt very near,
  He might see his face in the same.


_Ad_ Johannuelem Leporem, _Lepidissimum_;

_Carmen Heroicum_.

  I sing the furious battails of the Sph[oe]res      [24.]
  Acted in eight and twenty fathom deep,
  And from that (_a_) time, reckon so many yeares
  You'l find (_b_) _Endimion_ fell fast asleep.

    _a._ There began the _Utopian_ accompt of years. _Mor: Lib 1.
    circa finem._

    _b._ _Endimion_ was a handsome young Welshman, whom one _Luce
    Moone_ lov'd for his sweet breath; and would never hang off
    his lips; but he not caring for her, eat abundance of toasted
    cheese, purposely to make his breath unsavory; upon which she
    left him presently, and ever since 'tis proverbially spoken
    (as inconstant as Luce Moone). The _Vatican_ coppy of _Hesiod_
    reades her name _Mohun_, but contractedly it is _Moone_.
    _Hesiod. lib 4. tom. 3._

  And now assist me O ye (_c_) Musiques nine
  That tell the Orbs in order as they fight
  And thou dread (_d_) _Atlas_ with thine eyes so fine,
  Smile on me now that first begin to write.

    _c._ For all the Orbes make Musick in their motion. _Berosus
    de Sphera, lib 3._

    _d._ _Atlas_ was a Porter in _Mauritania_, and because by
    reason of his strength, he bore burthens of stupendious
    weight, the Poets fain'd that he carried the Heavens on his
    shoulders. _Cicero de nat Deorum. lib. 7._

  (_e_) _Pompey_ that once was Tapster of _New June_,
  And fought with _Cæsar_ on th' (_f_) _Æmathian plaines_,
  First with his dreadful (_g_) _Myrmidons_ came in,
  And let them blood in the Hepatick veines.

    _e._ There were two others of this name. Aldermen of _Rome_.
    _Tit. Liv. hist. lib. 28._

    _f._ _Æmathia_ is a very faire Common in _Northampton shire_.
    _Strabo. lib 321._

    _g._ These _Myrmidons_ were _Cornish-men_ and sent by
    _Bladud_, sometime king of this Realme, to ayd _Pompey_.
    _Cæsar de bello. civili. lib. 14._

  But then an _Antelope_ in Sable blew,
  Clad like the (_h_) Prince of _Aurange_ in his cloke,
  Studded with Satyres, on his Army drew,
  And presently (_i_) _Pheander's_ Army broke.

    _h._ It seemes not to be meant by _Count Henry_ but his
    brother _Maurice_, by comparing his picture to the thing here
    spoken of. _Jansen, de præd. lib 22._

    _i._ _Pheander_ was so modest, that he was called the Maiden
    Knight; and yet so valiant, that a French Cavaleer wrote his
    life, and called his book _Pheander_ the _Maiden Knight_.
    _Hon. d'Urfee. Tom 45._

  (_k_) Philip for hardiness sirnamed _Chub_,
  In Beauty equall to fork bearing (_l_) _Bacchus_,
  Made such a thrust at (_m_) _Ph[oe]be_ with his Club,
  That made the (_n_) _Parthians_ cry she will ---- us.

    _k._ This seems not to be that king that was Son of _Amintas_,
    and king of _Macedon_; but one who it seems was very
    lascivious.

    _l._ _Bacchus_ was a drunken yeoman of the Guard to Queen
    _Elizabeth_ and a great Archer; so that it seems the Authour
    mistooke his halbert for a forke.

    _m._ This was _Long-Megg_[F. 58] of _Westminster_, who after
    this conflict with _Phillip_ followed him in all his warres.
    _Justinian. lib 35._

    _n._ These were _Lancashire-men_ and sent by King _Gorbadug_
    (for this war seemes to have been in the time of the
    _Heptarchy_ in _England_) to the aide of _Cæsar_. Cæsar. lib.
    citat. prope finem.

  A subtle Gloworme lying in a hedge,
  And heard the story of sweet cheek't (_o_) _Apollo_,
  Snatch'd from bright (_p_) _Styropes_ his Antick sledge,
  And to the butter'd Flownders cry'd out (_q_) _Holla_.

    _o._ _Apollo_ was _Cæsars_ Page, and a _Monomapatan_ by
    birth, whose name by inversion was _Ollopa_: which in the old
    language of that Country, signifies as much as faire youth:
    but _Euphoniæ Gratia_, called _Apollo_. _Gor. Bec. lib. 46._

    _p._ _Styropes_ was a lame Smith's-man dwelling in _St. John's
    Street_; but how he was called Bright I know not, except it
    were by reason of the Luster of his eyes.

    _q._ _Holla_, mistaken for _Apollo_.

  _Holla_ you pamper'd Jades, quoth he, look here,
  And mounting straight upon a Lobsters thigh,
  An _English_ man inflam'd with (_r_) double Beere,
  Swore nev'r to (_s_) drink to Man, a Woman by.

    _r._ Cervisia (apud Medicos, vinum hordeaceum) potus est
    Anglis longè charismus; Inventum Ferrarii _Londinensis_, Cui
    nomen _Smuggo_. _Polydor. Virgil. de Invent. rerum. lib. 2._

    _s._ Impp. Germaniæ, antiquitus solebant, statis temporibus,
    adire _Basingstochium_; ubi, de more, Jusjurandum solenne
    præstabant, de non viro propinando, præsente muliere. Hic Mos,
    jamdudum apud _Anglos_, pene vim legis obtinuit; quippe gens
    illa, longe humanissima morem istum, in hodiernum usque
    diem, magna Curiositate, pari Comitate conjuncta, usurpant.
    _Pancirol. utriusque imperii. lib. 6._ cap 5.

  By this time grew the conflict to be (_t_) hot,
  Boots against boots, 'gainst (_u_) Sandals, Sandals fly,
  Many poor thirsty men went to the pot,
  Feathers lopt off, spurrs every where did lie.
                                  _Cætera desiderantur._

    _t._ It seems this was a great battail, both by the furie
    of it, and the aydes of each side; but hereof read more in
    _Cornel. Tacit. lib. de moribus German._

    _u._ This is an imitation of _Lucan_. "Signis Signa & pila"
    &c. _Pharsalia. lib. 1._ in principio.

    [Footnote 58: A virago who lived temp. Henry VIII.]


_Of Treason._

  Treason doth never prosper; what's the reason?      [16.]
  For if it prosper, none dare call it Treason.


        A miserable _Jack_      [12.]
        Gave a little glass of Sack.
  To a Lass that liv'd at the _Spittle_;
        'Tis old wine, says he,
        That's a wonder, says she,
  To be old, and yet so little.


[18.] 'Tis said of one who well remembred what he had lent, but forgot
what he had borrowed, that _he had lost one half of his Memory_.


_On the word intollerable._

  Two gentlemen did to a Tavern come,      [5.]
  And call'd the drawer for to shew a room,
  The drawer did, and what room think ye was't?
  One of the small ones, where men drink in haste;
  One gentleman sat down there, but the other
  Dislik'd it, would not sit, call'd for another:
  At which his friend, rising up from the table,
  Cryes, friend, let's stay, this room is tollerable:
  Why, that's the cause (quoth hee) I will not stay,
  Is that the cause, quoth th' other? why, I pray?
  To give a reason to you, I am able,
  Because I hate to be in--Tollerable.


[26.] A Gentleman coming drunk to Bed over night, in the morning could
not find his breeches: then he knock'd for the Chamberlain: _Sir_,
says he, _if you are sure you brought them in with you, you had best
search your pockets for them, for you lost all your Money last Night
out of your Pockets, it may be your Breeches are got in there_.



  THE CUNNING NORTHERNE BEGGER

  Who all the By-standers doth earnestly pray
      To bestow a penny upon him to day.


To the Tune of _Tom of Bedlam_.

[Illustration]


  I am a lusty begger,      [29.]
  And live by others giving,
          I scorne to worke,
          But by the highway lurke,
        And beg to get my living:
  I'le i' th' wind and weather,
  And weare all ragged Garments,
          Yet though I am bare,
          I am free from care,
        A fig for high preferments.
  _For still will I cry good, your worship, good sir,
  Bestow one poor denier, sir;
          Which when I've got,
          At the Pipe and Pot,
        I soon will it cashiere, sir._

  I have my shifts about me,
  Like _Proteus_ often changing,
          My shape when I will
          I alter still,
        About the country ranging:
  As soon as I a Coatch see,
  Or Gallants by come riding,
          I take my Crotch,
          And rouse from my Couch,
        Whereas I lay abiding.
  _And still doe cry, &c._

  Now as a wandring Souldier,
  (That has i' th' warres bin maymed
          With the shot of a Gunne)
          To Gallants I runne,
        And begg, sir, helpe the lamed:
  I am a poore old Souldier
  And better times once viewed,
          Though bare now I goe,
          Yet many a foe,
        By me hath been subdued.
  _And therefore I cry &c._

  Although I nere was further,
  Than Kentish-street in Southwarke,
          Nor ere did see
          A Battery
        Made against any bulwarke;
  But with my Tricks and Doxes,
  Lay in some corner lurking,
          And nere went abroad,
          But to beg on the road,
        To keep my selfe from working:
  _And alwaies to cry &c._

  Anon I'm like a saylor
  And weare old Canvas cloathing,
          And then I say
          The Dunkerks away,
        Took all and left me nothing:
  Sixe ships set all upon us,
  'Gainst which we bravely ventur'd
          And long withstood,
          Yet could doe no good,
        Our ship at length they enter'd
  _And therefore I cry &c._

  Sometime I like a Criple
  Upon the ground lye crawling,
          For money I begge,
          As wanting a legge
        To beare my corps from falling:
  Then seeme I weake of body,
  And long t' have beene diseased,
          And make complaint
          As ready to faint,
        And of my griefs increased.
  _And faintly I cry &c._

  My flesh I can so temper,
  That it shall seeme to feister
          And looke all ore,
          Like a raw sore,
        Whereon I stick a plaister:
  With blood I daub my face then,
  To faigne the falling sicknesse,
          That in every place
          They pitty my case,
        As if it came from weaknesse.
  _And then I doe cry &c._

  Then as if my sight I wanted,
  A Boy doth walke beside me,
          Or else I doe
          Grope as I goe,
        Or have a dog to guide me:
  And when I'm thus accounted,
  To th' highway side I hye me,
          And there I stand
          With Cords in my hand,
        And beg of all comes nye me.
  _And earnestly cry &c._

  Next to some country fellow
  I presently am turned,
          And cry alacke,
          With a Child at my back,
        My house and goods were burned:
  Then me my Doxes follow,
  Who for my Wifes believed,
          And along wee two
          Together goe,
        With such mischances grieved.
  _And still we doe cry &c._

  What though I cannot labour,
  Shall I therefore pine with hunger,
          No, rather than I
          Will starve where I lye,
        I'le beg of the money monger:
  No other care shall trouble
  My minde, nor griefe disease me,
          Though sometimes the flash
          I get or the lash
        'Twill but a while displease me.
  _And still will I cry &c._

  No tricks at all shall scape me,
  But I will by my maunding
          Get some reliefe
          To ease my griefe,
        When by the highway standing:
  'Tis better be a Begger
  And aske of kind good fellowes,
          And honestly have
          What we do crave,
        Than steale and goe to the Gallowes.
  _Therefore I'le cry &c._

FINIS.

Printed at London for _F. Coules_.[F. 59]

    [Footnote 59: Same as Francis Coles (see "The Great Boobee").]


[26.] One coming into _New-Market_ to buy some Butter, and there
cheapened some; and the woman askt. 10d a pound: then he smelt to it;
_What_, says she, _do you smell to it, it seems you do not like my
Butter: Yes_, says he, _but 'tis no better than it should be. Then
you'll buy none_, says she: _No_, says he, _for a reason best known
to myself_. Then she askt him the reason, and with much importunity he
told her, 'twas because he had no Money: _Well then_, says the Woman,
_take it for nothing, so you'll pay me for it next time you come_.


        Sirrah, you are base      [12.]
        To spit in my face,
  That he vow'd, he wou'd him kill;
        Sir, I pray forbear,
        I thought no hurt here,
  Nay, I'le tread it out, if you will.


_A contest at the_ Hoop-Tavern _between two Lawyers_.

  Two _Lawyers_ had of late a _Tavern_ Jarr      [25.]
  And as 'twas made, 'twas try'd at _Bacchus_ Bar;
  The _Jury_ Pints and Quarts, and Pottles were,
  Each of a quick and understanding Eare,
  Brought in their verdict, which no sooner pass'd
  But that the Lawyers they themselves did cast.
  Sir _Burdeux_ Claret, White, Signiour Canary,
  Sir _Reynold Rhenish_, with a tertiorary,
  Whipt up my Youths (& they ye know were able)
  This into th' Chimny, that beneath the Table.
  Where They lay both, instead of a demur,
  So foxt, that neither, in the case, could stir,
  They might have else a _Writ of Error_ got,
  But, O the Error of the Pottle Pot!
  Both over-thrown, and on their backs now laid,
  Let the Sute fall, and their own charges paid.
      And thus, though _Westminster_ makes _Clients_ stoop,
      The _Lawyer's_ Case was alter'd at the _Hoop_.


[4.] A Conceited Scholar that was lately come from _Oxford_, drinking
with two or three Gentlemen, at the _Mitre Tavern_ in the _Poultrey_,
was very brisk and airy, and would needs be forming of Sylogismes &c.
One wise one was this, He bid them fill two Glasses of Wine, which
they did: now: says he, I will prove those two Glasses to be three,
thus, Is not here one, says he? Yes, says the Gentleman. And here
another, that's two, says he; Yes, says the Gentleman again. Why,
then, says he, one and two is three, so 'tis done. _Very well_, says
the Gentleman, _I'll have one Glass, and that Gentleman shall have the
other, and you shall have the third for your pains in finding it out_.


_Of inclosing a Common._

  A Lord, that purpos'd for his more availe,     [6.]
  To compass in a Common with a rayle,
  Was reckoning with his friend about the Cost,
  And charge of every rayle, and every post:
  But he, (that wisht his greedy humour crost)
      Said, Sir, provide you Posts, and without fayling,
      Your neighbours round about will find you rayling.


      Some said, Sir, you keep     [12.]
      Such a gaping in your sleep,
  He told 'em then they did lye all;
      For a looking glass he'd buy,
      At his bed's-feet to lye,
  On purpose to make a tryal.


[4.] A Scholar of _Oxford_ having wore out the Heels of his Boots,
brought them in his hands to a Cobler, and shewing him them, said, _O
thou curious Artificer, that hast by no small pains and study, arrived
to the perfection of that exquisite art of repairing the defects of
old decayed Calcuments, affix me two Semicircles to my Suppeditors_.
The Cobler stared upon him, as if he would have looked him through;
but a little recovering himself, said, _Before George, Sir, I
understand not your hard Language: but if I put on two Heel pieces,
I'll have a Groat for them_.


The same Scholar being asked by a Porter for a Gentleman's Chamber in
the Colledg, he directed him thus, _you must crucifie the Quadrangle,
and ascend the Grades, and you will find him perambulating in his
Cubicle, near the Fenester_. Pray Sir, says the Porter, what is that
_Fenester_? _It is_, replies the Scholar, _the Diaphonous part of
an Edifice, erected for the Introduction of Illumination_, which so
amazed the Porter, that at first he did not know what to think, till
recovering himself, he went and enquired of another, who gave him
plainer directions, in more intelligible terms.



_A Caution for Scolds_

or

A True Way of Taming a Shrew.

To the tune of _Why are my eyes still flowing_.

This may be printed R.P.


  A Noble Man he Marry'd with a cruel Scold,      [30.]
  Who in her humours would ne'r be controul'd,
  So that he was almost a weary of his Life,
  By the cross humours of his froward Wife:
  Although he shewed himself exceeding kind,
  Yet she was still of a turbulent mind;
  Husband and Servants her Fury must feel,
  For in their Ears she would ring them a Peal.

  When any Friend approach'd the presence of her Lord,
  By this vile Shrew they were strangely abhor'd;
  With cruel Frowns and Railings she would them salute
  Tho' they were Persons of worthy Repute;
  All was a case for she woud have her Will,
  And the whole House with Confusion she'd fill;
  So that for fear of the heat of her Fray
  They have been forc'd to run packing away.

  It was his chance to make a worthy noble feast,
  Inviting full forty Couple at least,
  Both Lords and Earls, with vertuous Ladies of high fame,
  Who in true Friendship accordingly came:
  All sorts of dainties he then did prepare,
  No cost nor charge in the least he did spare;
  But ere they could to their Banqueting fall,
  Sirs, you shall hear how she welcom'd them all.

[Illustration]

  When she beheld the Costly Dishes of Rich Meat,
  This Shrew had not the Stomach to Eat,
  But did cry out, I shall be Ruined at this rate,
  This is enough to consume an Estate:
  Before she any more words did reply
  She made both Bottles and Dishes to flye;
  Both Friends and Husband she there did abuse,
  Asking him how he dare be so profuse?

  Like Thunder loud, her voice she straight began to raise,
  Which made the Guests to stand all in a maze,
  Who never saw the like in all their lives before,
  Dishes of Meat they lay strow'd on the floor;
  Thus in disorder they all went their way,
  Each one was glad they were out of the fray;
  Then said her Husband did ever Man know,
  Any poor Mortal so plagu'd with a Shrow.

  Now the next day he to a skilful Doctor went,
  Promising that he would give him content,
  If he could cure the cause of a Distracted Wife
  Which almost made him a weary of his Life;
  Yes, quoth the Doctor, i'le do it ne'r fear,
  Bring her, for now 'tis the Spring of the Year;
  I'le take the Lunacy out of her Brains,
  Or else I wont have a Groat for my pains.

  Then home he went and sent her thither out of hand,
  Now when the Shrow, she did well understand
  All their intent, she cal'd the Doctor sneaking knave;
  Now when he see she began for to Rave,
  Straightways the Doctor did bind her in Bed,
  Leting her Blood, likewise shaving her Head;
  Sirrah, said she, I would have you to know,
  That you shall suffer for serving me so.

  Madam, said he, I know you are beside your Wits,
  But I will soon bring you out of those Fits;
  I'le cut your Tongue, and when a Gallon you have bled,
  'Twill cure that violent Noise in your Head;
  Pray Sir, said she, don't afflict me so sore,
  I'le ne'r offend my sweet Husband no more;
  Thus by sharp Usage and keeping her low,
  He had the fortune to Conquer the Shrow.

  After some time, he came to see his Wife at last,
  When she begg'd pardon for all that was past;
  Saying, her Fits for evermore she would refrain,
  If he'd be pleas'd to receive her again;
  My former Follies I pray now forgive,
  Ile ne'r offend you no more while I live:
  Then in much love they both homeward did go
  Thus has he made a sweet Wife of a Shrow.

FINIS.


[18.] One being set upon by Robbers at five a Clock in the Morning,
_Gentlemen_, says he to 'em, _you open Shop very early to day_.


      Mr _Hill_ he did say      [12.]
      H _non est litera_,
  But a note of aspiration still;
      Now I think on't better,
      If it be not a letter,
  With him it will go very ill.


_On_ Galla _going to the Bath_.

  When _Galla_ for her health goes to the Bath,      [14.]
  She carefully doth hide, as is most meet,
  With aprons of fine linnen or a sheet,
  Those parts that modesty concealed hath;
  Nor only those, but even the breast and neck,
  That might be seen or shown without all check;
      But yet one foul and unbeseeming place.
      She leaves uncovered still; what's that? her face.


[8.] There was one that died greatly in Debt, when it was reported in
some company, where divers of his Creditors were, that he was dead;
one began to say in good faith, then he hath Carried five hundred
ducates of mine with him into the other world; and another of them
said, and two hundred of mine; and some others spake of several sums
of theirs: whereupon one that was amongst them said, _Well, I see now,
that though a man cannot carry any of his own with him, into the other
world, yet he may carry other mens_.


  A Welshman and an Englishman disputed,      [5.]
  Which of their Lands maintain'd the greatest state,
  The Englishman the Welshman quite confuted,
  Yet would the Welshman nought his brags abate:
      Ten Cooks, quoth he, in Wales one wedding sees;
      Truth quoth the other, each man tosts his cheese.


  'Fore a Justice was brought      [12.]
  One for a great fault;
  Y'are an errant Dog, Rogue, says he;
      Sir, I am no Dog,
      Nor so errant a Rogue.
  As your Worship ---- takes me to be.


[17.] A Western Lady was very Hospitable to many Gentlemen, and it
happened a Knight came thither; and being a great House-wife, early in
the Morning she called to her maids, and ask'd whether the Pigs were
served; which the Knight hearing, said before the Gentlewoman at
dinner, Madam are the Pigs served? Sir, says she, _I know not whether
you have had your breakfast yea or no_.


  My love and I for kisses play'd      [5.]
  She would keep stakes, I was content,
  And when I wonne, she would be payd;
  This made me aske her what she meant,
  Sayth she, since you are in this wrangling vaine,
  Take you your kisses, and give me mine againe.


_On a farmer knighted._

  In my conceit Sir _John_, you were to blame,      [5.]
  To make a quiet good wife, a mad dame.


[26.] Some Gentlemen were sitting at a Coffee-house together, one was
asking what News there was? T'other told him, There was forty thousand
Men rose to day, which made them all stare about, and asked him to
what end they rose, and what did they intend? Why faith, says he, only
to go to bed at Night again.


_Of Milo the Glutton._

  _Milo_ with haste to cram his greedy gut,      [6.]
  One of his thumbs into the bone had cut.
  Then straight, it noysed was about by some,
  That he had lost his stomacke with his thumbe.
      To which one said. No worse hap fall unto him,
      But, if a poore man finde it, 'twill undo him.


[18.] A Person of Quality owed a Gentleman a Thousand Pounds. Meeting
together in a fair Road, where both their Coaches went a good rate;
the first looking out of the Coach called to the Gentleman, and begged
a thousand Excuses. _And I beg_, said the Gentleman presently, _a
thousand Pounds._


  A Pleasant new Ballad you here may behold,
  How the Devill, though subtle, was guld by a Scold.

To the Tune of _The Seminary Priest_.

[Illustration]

  Give eare my loving Country-men      [31.]
    that still desire newes,
  Nor passe not while you heare it sung,
    or else the song peruse:
  For ere you heare it, I must tell
    my newes, it is not common,
  But Ile unfold a trueth betwixt
    a Devill and a woman.

  _Tom Thumb_ is not my subiect,
    whom Fairies oft did aide,
  Nor that mad spirit _Robin_
    that plagues both wife and maid
  Nor is my song satyricke like,
    invented against no man,
  But onely of a pranke betwixt
    a Devill and a woman.

       *       *       *       *       *

  A woman well in yeares
    liv'd with a husband kinde
  Who had a great desire
    to live content in minde,
  But twas a thing impossible
    to compasse his desire
  For night and day with scolding
    she did her husband tire.

  With roughish, lowtish clowne,
    despight thee Ile be wilde,
  Doest thou think I marryed thee
    to use thee like a childe,
  And set thee on my lap,
    or humour what you speake?
  Before Ile be so fond,
    thy very heart Ile breake.

  Why, loving wife, quoth he,
    Ile never doe thee wrong,
  So thoul't be rul'd by me,
    and onely hold thy tongue.
  And when I come from worke,
    wilt please at board and bed;
  Doe this my loving wife
    and take all being dead.

  Marke well, quoth she, my words
    what ere you speak me to,
  By faire meanes or by foule,
    the contrary Ile doe.
  According to her speech,
    this man led such a life,
  That oft he wish't the Devill
    to come and fetch his wife.

  Had he bid her goe homely,
    why then she would goe brave,
  Had he cal'd her good wife,
    she cal'd him rogue and slave;
  Bade he, wife goe to Church,
    and take the fairest pew,
  Shee'd goe unto an Alehouse,
    and drinke, lye downe and spew.

  The Devill being merry
    with laughing at this mirth,
  Would needs from hell come trotting,
    to fetch her from the earth;
  And coming like a horse,
    did tell this man his minde,
  Saying, Set her but astride my backe,
    Ile hurry her through the winde.

  Kinde Devill quoth the man,
    if thou a while will wait,
  Ile bid her doe that thing
    shall make her backe thee straight
  And here Ile make a vow
    for all she is my wife,
  Ile never send for her againe
    whilest I have breath or life.

  Content, the Devill cry'd,
    then to his wife goes he
  Good wife, goe lead that horse
    so black and fair you see.
  Goe leade, sir Knave, quoth she
    and wherefore not goe ride?
  She took the Devill by the reines,
    and up she goes astride.

  The Devill neighed lowd,
    and threw his heeles i' th' ayre,
  Kick, in the Devill's name, quoth she,
    a shrew doth never fear.
  Away to hell he went,
    with this most wicked scold,
  But she did curbe him with the bit,
    and would not loose her hold.

  The more he cry'd, Give way,
    the more she kept him in,
  And kickt him so with both her heeles,
    that both his sides were thin.
  Alight, the Devill cry'd,
    and quick the bridle loose,
  No I will ride (quoth she)
    whiles thou hast breath or shooes.

  Again she kickt and prickt,
    and sate so stiffe and well,
  The Devill was not so plagu'd
    a hundred years in hell.
  For pitty light (quoth he)
    thou put'st me to much paine,
  I will not light, (quoth she)
    till I come home againe.

  The Devill shewed her all
    the paines within that place,
  And told her that they were
    ordain'd for Scolds so base.
  Being bereft of breath,
    for scolding tis my due,
  But whilest I live on earth
    Ile be reveng'd on you.

  Then did she draw her knife,
    and gave his eare a slit,
  The Devill never felt
    the like from mortall yet.
  So fearing further danger,
    he to his heeles did take,
  And faster than he came,
    he poast hast home did make.

  Here take her (quoth the Devill)
    to keep her here be bold,
  For hell would not be troubled
    with such an earthly scold.
  When I come home, I may
    to all my fellowes tell,
  I lost my labour and my bloud
    to bring a scold to hell.

  The man halfe dead did stand,
    away the Devill hyde,
  Then since the world, nor hell,
    can well a Scold abide:
  To make a saile of ships
    let husbands fall to worke,
  And give their free consents
    to send them to the Turke.

  Then honest wives and maides,
    and widdowes of each sort,
  Might live in peace and rest,
    and Silence keep her court,
  Nor would I have a scold,
    one penny here bestow,
  But honest men and wives
    buy these before you goe.

FINIS.

Printed at London for Henry Gosson[F. 60] dwelling upon London Bridge.
neare to the Gate.

    [Footnote 60: Henry Gosson published between 1607 and 1641.]


  He went to the wood and caught it,      [32.]
  He sate him down and sought it,
  Because he could not find it,
  Home with him he brought it.

_Solution._

That is a thorn; for a man went to the wood and caught a thorn in his
foot, and then he sate him down, and sought to have pull'd it out, and
because he could not find it out he must needs bring it home.


[26.] A rich and covetous Councellor of this Kingdom, that had an only
Child, which was a Daughter and worth £20,000. A young and handsome
Gentleman of good Birth though of no great Fortune; yet had so far
insinuated himself into the young Lady's Favour, that she promis'd him
Marriage, if he could get her Father's Consent. Immediately he comes
for _London_, and goes to her Father, and told him, That he would give
him £10 for a Fee if he could assist him in a business which did much
concern him: which was, That there was a rich young Heiress in town,
which had promised him marriage if it could any way be made good by
Law: Why, says he, let her hire a Horse, and invite you to take her
away, and let her get up before, and you behind that it may not be
said that you rode away with her, but she with you, and let her go to
the Minister, and tell him, 'tis her desire to be married to you, and
to get a Licence accordingly; and when you are married, then be sure
to bed her, and I'll warrant you she's your own. And this, says the
Gentleman, you'll avouch for Law? He told him, Yes. Well Sir, says he,
if you will set your Hand to it, I'll give you Ten Pounds more; which
he did. Immediately he goes into the Country, and shews the young Lady
what was done, and how 'twas done; and she accordingly performed her
promise, and suddenly married and bedded; and having so continued a
week they both came to _London_, and came to her Father, and fell down
upon their knees to him, and craved his Blessing; which made him at
first fly into harsh Language; but the Gentleman said, We have done
nothing but what you avoucht for Law, and have it under your hand. The
Lawyer fearing his Reputation might be brought in question, and seeing
him to be a handsome and well bred Gentleman, and of a good family,
clape both their hands together, and bid God bless them; and then gave
them a subsistence for the present, and made over all to them after
his death.


  Three had a contest      [12.]
  Which grain was the best;
  The first said Wheat had the Quorum
  The second stood for Rye
  But the third did reply
  _Hordea est farra forum_.[F. 61]

    [Footnote 61: Far afore 'em.]


_On one in debt._

  _Don Pedro's_ out of debt; be bold to say it;      [14.]
  For they are said to owe that mean to pay it.


[4.] A Gentleman that had never been used to Wounds, received a small
scratch with a Sword in a Tavern Fray; at which he was sadly frighted,
and sent immediately for a Chyrurgeon, who coming, and seeing the
Wound but slight, and the Gentleman in a great fear: for sport's sake
pretended great danger, and therefore sends his Man with great speed
to fetch him such a Plaister: _Why Sir_, quoth the Gentleman, _is the
wound so dangerous?_ _O Yes_, replyed the Arch Chyrurgeon, _for if he
don't make great haste, it will heal of it self, before he comes._


Scylla _toothlesse_.

  _Scylla_ is toothlesse; yet when she was young,      [24.]
  She had both tooth enough, and too much tongue:
  What should I now of toothlesse _Scylla_ say?
  But that her tongue hath worne her teeth away.


The extravagances of male attire in Charles the First's time justly
called down the wrath of the Satirists, particularly of the Puritan
School. The Cavaliers, however, were only effeminate in their dress,
their gallant conduct in the Civil war proving them to be men of
mettle. The subjoined is so faithful in its representation of the then
height of fashion as to be almost removed from caricature, still the
letterpress evidently intends it to be a satire as bitter as could be
made by the Roundhead who penned it, who naturally believed in "the
Unlovelinesse of Love Lockes."



The

=Picture of an English Antick,=

  with a List of his ridiculous Habits
          and apish Gestures.


_Maids, where are your hearts become? look you what here is!_

  1. His hat in fashion like a close-stoolepan.      [33.]

  2. Set on the top of his noddle like a coxcombe.

  3. Banded with a calves tail, and a bunch of riband.

  4. A feather in his hat, hanging down like a Fox taile.

  5. Long haire, with ribands tied in it.

  6. His face spotted.

  7. His beard on the upper lip, compassing his mouth.

  8. His chin thrust out, singing as he goes.

  9. His band lapping over before.

  10. Great band strings, with a ring tied.

  11. A long wasted dubblet unbuttoned half way.

  12. Little skirts.

  13. His sleeves unbuttoned.

  14. In one hand a stick, playing with it, in the other his
  cloke hanging.

  15. His breeches unhooked ready to drop off.

  16. His shirt hanging out.

  17. His codpeece open tied at the top with a great bunch of riband.

  18. His belt about his hips.

  19. His sword swapping betweene his legs like a Monkeys taile.

  20. Many dozen points at knees.

  21. Above the points of either side two bunches of riband of
          severall colours.

  22. Boot hose tops, tied about the middle of the Calfe, as
  long as a paire of shirt sleeves, double at the ends
  like a ruffe band.

  23. The Tops of his boots very large turned down as low
  as his spurs.

  24. A great paire of spurres, gingling like a Morrice dancer.

  25. The feet of his boots 2 inches too long.

  26. Two horns at each end of his foot, stradling as he goes.

[Illustration]

    Nov. 18, 1646.


    One desir'd, being dead,      [12.]
    To have Hysop round his head,
  But Time is better I think;
    For you'l find it a crime,
    If not buryed in time,
  For certain your Corps will stink.


[32.] What work is that the faster ye work, longer is it ere ye have
done, and the slower ye work the sooner ye make an end?

_Solution._ That is turning of a Spit; for if ye turn fast, it will be
long ere the meat be roasted, but if ye turn slowly, the sooner it is
roasted.


_A new married Bride._

  The first of all our sex, came from the side of man,      [5.]
  I thither am return'd from whence I came.


_Of finding a hare._

  A Gallant full of life, and void of care.      [6.]
  Asked his friend if he would find a hare?
  He that for sleepe, more than such sports did care,
  Said, Goe your waies, and leave me heere alone;
  Let them find hares that lost them, I lost none.


The next illustration is from a single sheet broadside entitled
"Englands Wolfe with eagles clawes, or the cruell Impieties of
Bloud-Thirsty Royalists, and blasphemous _Anti-Parliamentarians_,
under the command of that inhumane Prince _Rupert_, _Digby_, and the
rest. Wherein the barbarous Crueltie of our Civill uncivill Warres is
briefly discovered. London: Printed by _Matthew Simmons_ dwelling in
_Aldersgate_ Streete. 1646."

[Illustration]

This broadside scarcely comes within the scope of this work, dealing
as it does with the alleged cruelties committed by the Cavaliers; but
the engraving clearly is a political satire, not only on the Cavaliers
themselves, but on their extravagances in dress.


[18.] If you ask why borrowed Books seldom return to their Owners?
this is the Reason one gives for it: _Because 'tis easier to keep 'em,
than what is in them._


[8.] There was a Painter became a Physician, whereupon one said to
him, You have done well, for before the faults of your work were seen,
but now they are unseen.


  A Lawyer said in jest      [12.]
  A Taylor is the best
  Client in all the Land:
  And his reason is good,
  If well understood,
  'Cause he has so many Suits in hand.


_In Richardum quendam, Divitem, Avarum._

  Devising on a time what name I might      [24.]
  Best give unto a dry illiberall chuffe,
  After long search on his owne name I light,
  Nay then (said I) No more, I have enough;
      His name and nature do full well agree,
      For's name is _Rich_ and _hard_; and so is he.



The Dumb MAID,[F. 62]

or, the

Young Gallant Trappan'd.


  _A young Man did unto her a Wooing come,
  But she pretended much that she was dumb;
  But when they both in Marriage bands were ty'd,
  The Doctor's skill was likewise with her try'd;
  The Doctor he set her Tongue on the Run,
  She Chatters now and never will have done._

To a New Tune, call'd, _Dum, dum, dum_; Or, I would I were in my own
Country &c.

Licens'd and Enter'd according to Order.


  All you that pass along,      [35.]
  Give ear unto my song,
  Concerning a youth
    that was young, young, young;
  And of a Maiden fair
  Few with her might compare
  But alack, and alas, she
    _was dumb, dumb, dumb_.

  She was beautious, fresh and gay
  Like the pleasant Flowers in _May_,
  And her cheeks was as round,
    as a plum, plum, plum;
  She was neat in every part,
  And she stole away his heart,
  But alack, and alas, she
    _was dumb, dumb, dumb_.

  At length this Country Blade,
  Wedded this prety Maid,
  And he kindly conducted
    her home, home, home;
  Thus in her Beauty bright,
  Lay all his whole Delight
  But alack, and alas,
    she was dumb, dumb, dumb.

  Now will I plainly show
  What work this Maid could do,
  Which a Pattern may be,
    For girls young, young, young:
  O she both day and night
  In working took delight.
  But alack, and alas, she
    _was dumb, dumb, dumb_.

[Illustration]

  She could brew, and she could bake,
  She could wash, wring and shake,
  She could sweep the house
    with a broom, broom, broom:
  She could knit and sow and spin,
  And do any such like thing
  But alack, and alas, she
    _was dumb, dumb, dumb_.

  But at last this man did go,
  The Doctor's skill to know,
  Saying, Sir, can you cure
    a Woman of the Dumb?
  O it is the easiest part,
  That belongs unto my Art,
  For to cure a Woman
    _of the Dumb, dumb, dumb_.

  To the Doctor he did her bring,
  And he cut her Chattering-string,
  And he set her Tongue on
    the run, run, run:
  In the morning he did rise,
  And she fill'd his house with cries,
  And she rattled in his ears
    like a drum, drum, drum.

  To the Doctor he did go,
  With his heart well fill'd with woe,
  Crying, Doctor, I am
    undone, done, done;
  Now she's turn'd a scolding Wife
  And I'm weary of my life,
  Nor I cannot make her hold
    her tongue, tongue, tongue.

  The Doctor thus did say,
  When she went from me away,
  She was perfectly cured of
    the dumb, dumb, dumb.
  But it's beyond the Art of Man,
  Let him do the best he can,
  For to make a scolding Woman
    hold her tongue, tongue, tongue.

  So as you to me came
  Return you back again
  And take you the Oyl
    of Hazel[F. 63] strong
  With it anoint her Body round,
  When she makes the House to sound,
  So perhaps you may charm her,
    tongue, tongue, tongue.

    [Footnote 62: For tune, see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 63: A hazel switch.]


[26.] A Schoolmaster did always dictate to his Scholars. _H non est
Litera_, that is H is no letter; and on a time he call'd one of the
Scholars to him, and bid him _heat the Cawdle_, and when he askt for
it, the Scholar told him, _that he had done with the Cawdle as he bid
him_. _What's that?_ says his Master, _Why Sir_, says he, _I did eat
it._ _Sirrah_, says he, _I bid you heat it with an H_. _Yes Sir_, says
he, _But I did eat it with Bread_.


[32.] What is that that hath his belly full of man's meat and his
mouth full of dirt? _Solution._ It is an Oven when it is full of
bread, or pies, for that is man's meat, and the Ovens mouth is then
closed with dirt.


  What's an _Ace_, says one,      [12.]
  Dewce take me, says _John_,
  The Tray will be up in a trice
  You cater waule now.
  And your wit sinks low,
  Why friends, the jest is concise.


  Death and an honest Cobler fell at bate      [24.]
  And finding him worne out, would needs translate;
  He was a trusty so'le, and time had bin
  He would, well liquord, go through thick and thin.
  Death put a trick upon him, and what was't?
  The Cobler call'd for All, death brought his last;
  'Twas not uprightly done to cut his thread,
  That mended more and more till he was dead;
  But since hee's gone, tis all that can be said,
  Honest _Cut-Cobler_ here is underlayed.


In political satire it was not to be expected that so prominent a
person as Prince Rupert, the son of James I.'s own sister, could
come off scathless; but it is somewhat singular, and it shows the
bitterness of the parties, that even his pets, his poodle dog, and his
monkey, should provoke the satiric ire of the Roundhead writers. Both
are historical, and, thanks to Thomason, whose wonderful collection,
known as the "Kings Pamphlets," exists in the British Museum, the
materials of their history are easily accessible to the student. The
Prince's dog "Boy" was a white poodle, and it is somewhat curious to
note that poodles, over 200 years since, were shaved so as to conserve
the lionlike mane, although the dandyisms of tufts on the legs and
tail seem to have been reserved for a later era.

  [Illustration: "To him pudel."
                 "Bite him, peper"
                 'Cauilier Dog'
                 'Roundhead Curr']

His master must have had a special and peculiar affection for "Boy,"
as he, and a tame hare, "which used to follow him about & do his
bidding with facility," were his solace when imprisoned at Lintz
in 1641. According to a writer,[F. 64] whose "Prince Ruperts diary"
everybody would like to see, it was a "beautiful white dogge," was
given him by Lord Arundell, and was "of a breede so famous that the
Grand Turk gave it in particular injunction to his ambassador to
obtaine him a puppie thereof." His nationality is given in a tract
[36] as being either of German or Finland breed, and he must soon have
become notorious, as Prince Rupert did not come over to England after
his release from prison until February 1642; and we find from the
accompanying engraving [36] that early the following year he was
politically made use of for party purposes.

In this dialogue, which is too lengthy for reproduction here, it will
be seen that he was already accredited with supernatural qualities.

    "_Tobies Dog._ ... I heare you are Prince _Ruperts_ white Boy.

    _P. Rup. dog._ I am none of his White Boy, my name is
    _Puddle_.

    _Tob. dog._ A dirty name indeed, you are not pure enough for
    my company, besides I hear on both sides of my eares that you
    are a Laplander, or Fin land Dog, or truly no better than a
    Witch in the shape of a white Dogge.

       *       *       *       *       *

    _Tob. Dog._ You are of _Brackley_ breed, better to hang than
    to keep.

    _ Pr. Rup. Dog._ No, Sirrah, I am of high Germain breed;

    _Tob. Dog._ Thou art a Reprobate, and a lying Curre; you were
    either whelpt in Lapland, or else in Fin land; where there is
    none but divells and Sorcerers live."

This supernatural idea seems to have had its rise in Boy's
accompanying his master always, even on the battlefield, enjoying a
marvellous immunity from harm. There is a very similar engraving to
the accompanying, in a chap-book of "The History of the Blind Begger
of Bednal Green" [38], where it does duty for "Young Monford Riding to
the Wars, where he unhapily lost his Eye sight."[F. 65] And I have no
doubt but that in this present work the engraving to "The Poets Dream"
is an old woodcut of Prince Rupert and his dog Boy.

[37.]

[Illustration: Dauentry ... Brimidgham]

In another tract of the time [39] are plentiful allusions to his being
a witch. "Grumbling Sir, or counterfeit Lapland Lady, I admire thy
impudence in calling thyself a Lady: Art thou a Lady and hast so much
haire?... Thou wouldst be a rough bed fellow for the Divell himself;
if thou art not a Divell thyself, thou hast conditions sutable to
thy shape, for thou doest snarle and bite at the Parliament, and hast
learnt that quality from other Popish Dogs; good thou canst do none
to the Prince, for that is contrary to the nature of a Witch, which in
some respects thou unjustly doest assume, but in other conditions most
fitly, for a Witch will dine or suppe with a roasted crab squittering
in the fire, or with a few boild Onions and a draught of Buttermilke
which one of her neighbours gave her for fear more than for love, but
thou doest fare most deliciously of the rumps and wings of Capons, and
Kidneys, and art indeed better fed than taught. Besides a Witch will
lie upon an old straw bed with her house Cat which seems instead of
her bed fellow. But the Kings chair of state and all the embroydered
velvet stools are thy day couches, where thou lyest and sleepest
with thy malignant eyes half open, and canst winke at small and great
faults as thou doest for occasion. But then thou art a Witch again
in some conditions, for they are overgrown with ugly gray hair which
hangs down about their shoulders, and so art thou, _Boy_. Witches are
ready to doe mischief, but can do no good, and such are thy malignant
qualities, _Boy_; Pardon me, for though our gracious King loves thee,
it is not as thou art a Witch but as thou art Prince _Robert's_
dog." And this attack on poor _Boy_ winds up with calling him "a very
cowardly malignant cur," though he look like a lion.


Another tract [40] talks of "her cousen Prince _Ruperts_ with her
white Tog, which as her Moderns hold is a Prince disguis'd." And
Cleveland [41] in his ode "to Prince Rupert" sings to poor _Boy's_
disadvantage, and holds him up as a bugbear.

  "They fear the Giblets of his Train, they fear
  Even his Dog, that four legg-d Cavalier:
  He that devours the Scraps which _Lunsford_ makes,
  Whose Picture feeds upon a Child in Stakes.
  Who name but _Charles_ he comes aloft for him,
  But holds up his Malignant Leg at _Pym_.
  'Gainst whom they've several Articles in Souse;
  First that he barks against the Sense o' th' House.
  _Resolv'd Delinquent_, to the Tower straight;
  Either to th' Lyons, or the Bishops Grate.
  Next, for his Ceremonious Wag o' th' Tail;
  But there the Sisterhood will be his Bail,
  At least the Countess will, _Lust's Amsterdam_,
  That lets in all Religions of the Game.
  Thirdly, he smells Intelligence, that's better,
  And cheaper too, than _Pym_ from his own Letter:
  Who's doubly pay'd (Fortune or we the blinder?)
  For making Plots, and then for Fox the Finder.
  Lastly he is a Devil without doubt;
  For when he would lie down, he wheels about;
  Makes Circles and is Couchant in a Ring,
  And therefore score up one for Conjuring."

In a contemporary tract [36] _Boy_ is accredited with being
invulnerable, and he had escaped the chances of war in a remarkable
manner. It would be a pity to curtail the extract, as it shows well
the political amenities of that age. "The Challenge which Prince
_Griffins_ Dogge called _Towzer_ hath sent to Prince _Rupert's_ Dog
whose name is _Puddle_, daring him to meet him at the Parish Garden
this present Lent to try a combate before the Worship full the Beares,
who are appointed to be their Judges in that Case.----Thou worme of
Wickednesse, fritter of Folly, spawne of doggednesse, and piece of
mungrele stuffe; in regard of thy base grumbling words and bawling
against thy betters. Besides that, is honest _Pepper_. Tobies _Dogge_
your match, no he is too milde for thee; thou should have given notice
of your Treaty and discourse to me who am thy equall, thou shouldst
have found enough of me, for I will have thee know, that I eate as
good Rumps and Kidneyes as ever thou, base Cur, dost; when I have you
at the place appointed I will so rump you, and so frump you, that I
will leave you never a rumpe nor yet a kidney, no, not with a heart as
big as a hen or chickins: I doe now with open mouth defie thee and all
thy proceedings, and doe challenge thee to meet me at the place before
mentioned, there will I fight, tug and teare thee in a single combate,
where I mean to rend thee in pieces, and be revenged on thee, base
cur. _And[F. 66] although I hear thou art impenitrable and likewise
besmeared over with inchaunted oyle, so that no weapon, bullet nor
sword can enter thee to make thee bleed_; yet I have teeth which I
have newly whetted shall so fasten and teare your German or Finland
hide limb meale, and then flea thy skin and hang it on the hedg, and
give thy pomperd flesh to those Iudges which we are to fight before,
(namely the Worshipfull the Bears), to satisfie their hungry mawes
this Lent; let me hear your dogged answer, or else I will proclaim
thee Coward in print, and set thy name upon every whipping post
&c.... Expect no favour from mee, nor will I from you; I will end the
difference. I will have no Outlandish cur domineer in our Land. _So
saith your Surley foe_ Towzer, and servant to Prince Griffin."

[Illustration]

Long after poor _Boy's_ death he was associated with Prince Rupert,
for instance [42]--

  "See how the Sectists bustle now,
  The Independents sturre.
  London is tam'd say they; as once
  Prince _Rupert_ with his curre."

_Boy_ at all events proved mortal, for he met with his death, after
escaping in many battlefields, at Marston Moor, on 2d July 1644; and
great rejoicings were made by the Puritan faction over his death. One
of the "King's Pamphlets" is entirely devoted to him [43], and from
this the accompanying engraving is taken. Here poor _Boy_, who is
environed by a hail of bullets, is represented as being "killed by a
Valliant Souldier, who had skill in Necromancy." And to keep up the
idea of his supernatural birth a witch is standing by, lamenting. The
"Elegie" commences with "P. _Ruperts_ Sorrow."

  "Lament poor _Cavaliers_, cry, howl, and yelp.
  For the great losse of your _Malignant Whelp_.
  Hee's dead! Hee's dead: No more, alas, can he
  Protect you _Dammes_, or get Victorie.
  How sad that _Son_ of _Blood_ did look to hear
  One tell the death of this shagg'd _Cavalier_,
  Hee rav'd, he tore his Perriwigg, and swore.
  Against the Round heads that hee'd ne're fight more."

It goes on with a fabulous supernatural pedigree of _Boy_.

  "'Twas like a _Dog_, yet there was none did know
  Whether it Devill was, or Dog, or no."

And after a long political diatribe it winds up thus--

  "To tell you all the pranks this _Dogge_ hath wrought,
  That lov'd his Master, and him Bullets brought,
  Would but make laughter, in these times of woe,
  Or how this Curr came by his fatall blow,
  Look on the Title Page, and there behold,
  The Emblem will all this to you unfold.

Morrall.

  The _World's_ the _Witch_, the _Dogge_ is the _Devill_,
  And _men_ th' Actors, that have wrought this evill."

So famous was _Boy_, that the different newspapers gave his death as
a special piece of intelligence [44]--"I may not omit to tell you that
Prince _Rupert_ lost his Bever, and his horse, and also his Dog was
slain, and lay dead neere the Beanfield, where divers affirme the
Prince hid himselfe, after a little service, till it was dark, and
then he got to _Yorke_." Again [45]--"As for newes from the North, I
heare it further confirmed, that the rumour which was here about Towne
concerning P^r _Ruperts_ hiding himselfe in a Beane field, and
for which act hee is almost quite out of the Malignants bookes, is
acknowledged to be most certaine, Nay, and I myselfe have heard it
confessed from the mouths of some notorious Malignants: It had
beene brave, with a blood hound there to have found him out, the
plunderings, cruelties, Massacrings, rapes, and bloodshed, which lie
upon his conscience, and which he cannot but beare about continually,
must needs have yelded a strong scent to betray him unto revenge. But
though his _Necromantick_ Dogge, his _Mephistophiles_, was slaine,
yet he seemes he made a shift to get secure into _Yorke_, and there to
sweare the Townesmen into an opinion of his Victory." And in another
newspaper [48] he is mentioned thus--"Amongst the dead Men and Horses
which lay on the ground, wee found Prince _Ruperts_ Dog killed. (This
is onely mentioned by the way; because the Prince his Dog, hath been
much spoken of, and was more prized by his Master than Creatures of
much more worth.)"

[Illustration]

A contemporary tract [46] (which is a dry political discussion,
and has nothing whatever to do with the title-page) furnishes the
accompanying engraving, which is exceedingly graphic. Here we again
see poor Boy, exactly as described, lying "dead neere the Beanfield,"
which is represented with preraphaelite fidelity. It is also hinted
at in the engraving which shows him being shot "by a Valliant Soulder,
who had skill in Necromancy," but in this one is introduced the head
of Prince Rupert, who is supposed to be there hiding.

His baggage fell into the hands of the victorious Parliamentarians,
and the satirist cannot help having a fling at the Prince's Romish
proclivities, as the contents of his sumpter horses' baggage shows
bulls, crucifixes, images, a bell, etc. On this subject there is
another satire [47]--"The Catholikes Petition to Prince Rupert," from
which the accompanying engraving is taken.

[Illustration]

But the Prince had another pet, a she monkey, and the satirist must
needs make that inoffensive animal a mark at which to spit his spite,
although nothing like the supernatural powers of _Boy_ were attributed
to her. There are two portraits extant of her, but I have only
reproduced one, the dresses in both cases being precisely similar,
and may probably represent her real costume [49]. In this tract she
is described as--"I never saw such a strange fashioned creature in my
life; for she hath a kind of Round-head as smooth as an apple, and
if there be any Round-head this Munkey is one, her brow is low and
wrinkled hanging over her little eyes; her nose thats flatt is very
short, her cheekes are leane and lanke, and her thin lipps do hardly
cover her teeth, the complection of her whole face is swarthy, cover'd
with hayre greene as mosse, and lastly she hides her head in a black
bagg, moreover she weares a greene or yellow gowne trimmed about with
lace, & a girdle about her middle by the which she is fastned to the
nave of a wheele, for the Prince is full of feares and Jelousies that
if she were loose she would steale away into some wood and live there
upon nutts and apples.... Thus P. _Ruperts_ Monkey is a kind of
old, little, wrinkled, old faced, petulant, wanton, and malignant
gentlewoman ... that sometimes rides upon the beast that is Prince
_Rupert's_ dog....

[Illustration]

  Prince _Rupert's_ Monkey is a toy,
  That doth exceed his dog called Boy,
    Which through dogged folly,
      Both Barkes and Bites,
      But this delights
    The Prince when's melancholy.

  He puts sweetemeats and sugar plumbs
  Into his Monkey's toothlesse gums,
    Which open like an oyster,
      For he doth esteeme
      A wench I meane,
    More than a Nun in a Cloister."

The colour of her dress is also described in a tract, before quoted
from [39]--"And Prince _Roberts_ Monkey dare not come thither, lest
the Parliaments Bitch should tear her green coat off from her back."

Her food is described in another tract [50]--"She would eat no
oatmeal, nor lome of walls to cure her infirmitie, but the longest
whitest sugar plums she could put into her mouth, were most
delightfull to her taste, and had such a ravenous appetite to fruit
that she would swallow all but the stones, and having gotten a
delectable bit in her mouth, she would onely suck the juice out of
it and then spit out the rest.... Moreover this Monkey was and is by
nature a notable plunderer not onely of studdies and closets, into
which, if she got, she would teare the books, spill the ink, and eat
the sweetmeats."

This is about all I dare reproduce about this pet of Prince Rupert's,
the remainder of these tracts being filled with political allusions,
which are somewhat hard to be understood now, and of no interest to
this book, the remainder being written somewhat more coarsely than
usual. But enough has been said about them to show how the satirists
of that age seized upon any thing which they could turn to their
purpose.

    [Footnote 64: Memoirs of Prince Rupert and the Cavaliers, by
    Eliot Warburton. Lond. 1849.]

    [Footnote 65: This is reproduced on p. 360 of "Chap Books of
    the 18th Century," by John Ashton. Lond. 1882.]

    [Footnote 66: These italics are mine.]


  A Citizen for Recreations Sake      [51.]
  To see the Countrie would a journie make,
  Some dozen mile, or little more,
  Taking his leave of friends two months before;
  With drinking healths, and shaking by the hand,
  As he had travail'd to some new-found land.
  Well, taking horse, with very much a doe,
  _London_ he leaveth for a day or two:
  And as he rideth meets upon the way
  Such (as what haste soever) bid men stay;
  Sirrah (sayes one) stand, and your purse deliver;
  I am a taker, you must be a giver.
  Unto a wood hard by they hale him in,
  And rifle him unto the very skin.
  Masters (quoth he) pray heare me ere you goe,
  For you have robbed more than you doe know:
  My horse (in troth) I borrowed of my Brother,
  The Bridle and the Saddle of another:
  The Jerkin and the Bases[F. 67] be a Taylers,
  The Scarfe, I doe assure you, is a Saylers:
  The Falling-band is likewise none of mine,
  Nor Cuffes, as true as this good light doth shine:
  The Sattin Doublet and the Velvet Hose,
  Are our Church-wardens, all the parish knowes.
  The Bootes are _John_ the Grocers of the Swan,
  The Spurs were lent me by a Serving-man:
  One of my Rings, (that with the great red Stone)
  Insooth I borrowed of my gossip _Joane_.
  Her husband knowes not of it gentlemen,
  Thus stands my case, I pray shew favour then.
  Why (quoth the theeves) thou needst not greatly care,
  Since in thy losse so many beare a share:
  The world growes hard, many good fellows lack
  Look not at this time for a penny back.
  Goe tell at _London_, thou didst meet with four,
  That rifling thee hath rob'd at least a score.

    [Footnote 67: The exact meaning of these garments seems to be
    in doubt. They were probably some kind of skirt.]


_The Connicatcher_[F. 68] _and Priest of Paris._

[52.] A lewd knave, a Cheater, espied a wealthy Priest, whose purse
was full of money, lately arrived in the City of Paris out of the
Countrey to buy necessaries, and with a bold face saluted him,
requested his aid in a small matter concerning a man of his own
calling. What's that, (quoth the Priest?) It is, Sir, (quoth he) this.
The Parson of our Towne hath given mee money to buy a Surplesse, and
I, having small knowledge in it, would request your ayde in the Choyce
of a good one, making no question of your good skill. With all my
heart (quoth the Priest.)

Comming to the shop of sale, the Connicatcher called for some choyce
Surplesses, and desired the Priest to choose out one of the best.
Which done, intreated him to assay it, whether it were in all points
as it ought to be. The Priest was nimble at his game, for it was his
dayly exercise, but the Cheater found fault with the making, bearing
out such an uncomly bulke at his right side. Oh (quoth the Priest) my
girdle and pouch is cause of that, and immediately loosed his girdle
and pouch, willing the Connicatcher to hold it till he had better
girded up the Surplesse as it ought to be. The Connicatcher having as
much as he desired suddenly leapt out of the shop and ranne away as
fast as he could with the Priests girdle and pouch full of money.
The Priest turning about, and seeing his purse and money flying for
religion (_sic_) made all the haste he could in the Surplesse after
the Connicatcher, crying and calling Hold the Theefe, Hold the Theefe,
The Connicatcher cried out. Hold the Priest, for he is mad, and will
kill me: the shopkeeper followed as fast as he could and cried, Stop
the Priest, for he hath stolne my Surplesse. The people halfe amazed
at this accident, laid hold on the Priest, but before he could declare
his misfortune, the Connicatcher was gone far enough, not to be caught
again in haste. Which caused much good laughter, and the Priest payed
for the Surplesse.

    [Footnote 68: A sharper.]


      One askt a simpleton,      [12.]
      Pray what Countryman
  Are you? says he, from the West;
      By my troth says _Hugh_,
      I do think so too,
  All the wise Men come from the East.


_On_ Bond _the Usurer_.

  Here lyes a Bond under this tombe,      [24.]
  Seald and deliver'd to, god knows whom.


[17.] One that had sore eyes, was jeer'd by another that was clear
ey'd; who told him they were not so sore, but that he could see a
knave: It may be so, says he, _but you must look in a Glass then_.


[18.] A Citizen telling a Courtier that he had just then eased himself
of a great Burden by paying a Debt he owed, and that he could not
apprehend how any Man could sleep that was in Debt; _For my part_,
answered the Courtier, _I should rather wonder how my Creditors can
sleep, well knowing that I shall never pay them_.


[4.] A certain Knave asking a virtuous Gentlewoman, jearingly, _What
was honesty?_ she answered, _What's that to you? Meddle with those
things that concern you._



  THE POETS DREAM[F. 69]

  OR,

  _The Great Out-cry and Lamentable Complaint
  of the_ LAND _against_
  BAYLIFFS and their DOGS.

  _Wherein is Expressed their_ Villanous Out-rages _to poor
  Men; With a true Description of their
  Knavery and their Debauch'd Actions; Prescribed
  and Presented to the view of all People._

To the Tune of _Sawny_ &c.

  As I lay Slumbring in a Dream,      [53.]
    methought the world most strangely went;
  The Bayliffs on High Seats was seen,
    which caus'd the Poor's great discontent.
  They pluckt true Justice from the Throne,
    erecting Laws made of their own,
  And burthen'd the Poor till they made them groan,
    _And that's the cause that the Land Complains_.

  Their Meeting house was an Ale-wives Bench,
    fix'd in a Street that is termed Old;
  Their Speaker was a Play-house-Wench
    both ---- and Thief, and a Devilish Scold.
  Shee'd guzzel Brandy, Wine or Ale,
    and then she'd at her Neighbours Rail,
  And send for the Bayliffs to have them to Jayl,
    _And that's the cause &c._

[Illustration]

  Methoughts a mighty hunting-match,
    was made by Bayliffs and their Currs:
  Poor men was the Deer they strove to catch,
    the Houses plac'd in the Room of Furrs:[F. 70]
  The Suburbs-Round, it was their Park,
    the Bayliffs yell, the Dogs did Bark,
  The Poor kept as close as Noah in the Ark,
    _And that's the Cause &c._

  Then _Shephard_ and his Dog wheel'd up to th' right,
    and thunder'd by a Cursed Lane,
  And there the Villains wrought their Spight,
    for by them, once, was a poor Man slain.
  They Swear, before they'l ever lack,
    they'l go to Hell, a Pick-a Pack,
  And thus poor Debters they go to rack,
    _And that's the Cause &c._

  There's Cursing _Will_ and Damme _Jack_,
    and Robbin _Tanner's_ alive agen,
  And Paunchgut _Tom_, (a Hellish Pack),
    with perjur'd _Dick_, and bawdy Ben:
  Which formerly on Earth did Dwell,
    and now they are return'd from Hell,
  And doth against our Laws Rebell.
    _And that's the Cause &c._

  When I awaked from my Dream,
    methoughts the world turn'd upside down,
  And in great haste, I Writ this Theam,
    for the Bayliffs Doggs of our Town;
  Who for their Pray each hour doe wait,
    like Death at every poor Man's Gate,
  And brings the Realm to a Dismal fate.
    _And that's the Cause &c._

  When Poor men are out of Employ
    and have not a Farthing in the World,
  The while there Wives and Children cry,
    there's many are in a Prison hurl'd:
  Men are enticed by the Bumms,
    who swear they ne'r will pay their Summs,
  Thus Poor in Flocks to the Jaylor comes,
    _And that's the Cause &c._

  The Tallyman, Curmudgeon, keeps
    a Baylif and his Dog to Bite,
  If in their Books, men ever Creeps,
    they quickly swear they'l have their Right:
  So soon as e're they do Back-slide,
    the Torturing Jale they must abide
  Then _Toby_ and Dog's employ'd;
    _And that's the Cause &c._

  When Rogues are at the _Old Bayly_ Burn'd,
    and that their Pilfering Trades do fail;
  From Thieves to Bayliff's Dogs have turn'd,
    to plague and hurry the Poor to Jayl:
  How like Kid-nappers all the Day,
    in every Corner they Survey,
  And quaff whole Bowls when they get their way.
    _And that's the Cause &c._

  Ten Groat's the Fees, and a Crown the arrest
    and three Round OOO's for a Writ beside,
  Thus Laws are broken, and poor men opprest,
    such Racking torments they must abide.
  And while the Prisoner sends for Bail,
    they Tope the Brandy, Beer and Ale,
  And makes him pay, or they have him to Jail.
    _And that's the Cause &c._

  For Twenty Shillings, Ten or Five,
    they'l put a man to a Cursed Charge;
  Or run him to Jayl they'l soon contrive,
    where other Bills are exprest at Large:
  The Jayl Fees many are bound to Rue,
    the Garnish, Bed and Turnkey too,
  Expects an unexpected Due,
    _And that's the Cause &c._

  Tis seldom a Bayliff or his Dog
    is ever known for to go to Church;
  As soon as they here the Word of God
    they leave the Parson in the lurch:
  They swear they'l come to Church no more,
    they lay their sins to _Adam's_ Score,
  And jaunt to _Moorfields_ to a ----,
    _And that's the Cause &c._

  Thus I conclude and end my Song,
    desiring that you wou'd be content;
  There's Christian Peers that may right our wrong.
    when Heaven yields up a Parliament:
  I hope true Reason will plead our Cause,
    while they'r erecting wholesome Laws
  They'l keep us from the _Crocodils_ paws,
    _and cease the Poor of the Land's Complaints_.[F. 71]

Printed for _P. Brooksby_ at the _Golden Ball_ near the _Bear_ Tavern
in _Pye Corner_.

    [Footnote 69: For tune, see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 70: Fir-trees.]

    [Footnote 71: 16th Dec. 1671. See the Kings Bench Prisoners
    Thanks to his Majesty for their late Deliverance By his
    Majesties Most Gracious Act. (82. l.8)/53 s. sh. fol.]


_The dumbe wife recovered her speech._

[52.] A certaine Farmer had taken to wife a dumb woman, and hearing of
a great Magician lately come into England, he tooke horse and rode to
him, and demanded if there were no help for a woman that had lost her
speech. The Magician answered, Yes, it is an easie matter, and told
him hee must take an Aspen leafe, and lay it under her tongue, and it
would instantly help her. The Farmer was joy'd with this tidings, and
returned in haste homewards, suspecting in himselfe the vertue of his
new receit, and therefore to make the matter more sure, he tooke three
Aspen leaves, and laid them all three under his wifes tongue, who
immediately began to talk and prate very nimbly, and in the end, upon
a very small occasion to curse and raile downeright upon her husband,
as if shee had beene mad. The Farmer was now in a peck of troubles,
and posted in all hast to the Magician, certifying him of this
unhappy accident. The Magician demanded if hee absolutely followed his
counsell. The Farmer answered No, for (quoth he) instead of one leaf I
have used three, hoping to make the matter surer. Marry then, God help
thee, (quoth the Magician) for it is an easie matter to make a woman
speak, but to make her hold her tongue is past my cunning. Nay, all
the devills in Hell could never worke such a wonder. Whereat the
Farmer much grieved, departed.


[32.] What is that the more ye lay on, the faster it wasteth?

_Solution._ That is a Whetstone, for the more ye whet the less is the
Whetstone.


  A Money Monger choyce of Sureties had;      [51.]
  A Countrey fellow plaine in Russet clad;
  His doublet Mutton-taffety Sheep-skins,
  His sleeves at hand button'd with two good pins;
  Upon his head a filthy greasie Hat,
  That had a hole eate thorou it by a Rat,
  A Leather Pouch that with a Snap-hance shut,
  One hundred Hobnailes in his Shooes were put:
  The stockings that his Clownish legs did fit,
  Were Kersie to the calfe, and t'other knit;
  And at a word, th' apparell that he wore
  Was not worth twelve pence, at _Who gives more?_
  The other surety of another stuffe,
  His neck inviron'd with a double Ruffe,
  Made Lawne and Cambrick both such common ware,
  His Doublet set had falling Band to spare;
  His fashion new, with last Edition stood,
  His Rapier Hilts imbru'd in golden blood:
  And these same trappings made him seeme one sound,
  To passe his credit for an hundred pound,
  So was accepted; Russet coat deny'd,
  But when time came the money should be pay'd,
  And Monsieur Usurer did hunt him out,
  Strange alteration struck his heart in doubt;
  For in the Counter[F. 72] he was gone to dwell,
  And Brokers had his painted cloaths to sell;
  The Usurer then further understands,
  The Clowne (refus'd) was rich and had good lands;
  Ready (through rage) to hang himselfe, he swore
  That Silken Knaves should cozen him no more.

    [Footnote 72: See footnote, _ante_ (F. 52).]


[8.] A seaman coming before the Judges of the Admiralty for admittance
into office in a ship bound for the _Indies_, was by one of the Judges
much sleighted, as an insufficient person for that office which he
sought for to acquire; till the Judge telling him that he believed
that he could not say the points of his Compass; the Seaman answered,
better than he could say his _Pater Noster_: The Judge replyed, that
he would wager twenty shillings with him of that; so the Seaman taking
him up, it came to trial, and the Seaman began and said all the
points of his Compass very exactly; the Judge likewise said his _Pater
Noster_, and when he had finished it, he required the wager according
to the agreement, because the Seaman was to say his Compass better
than he his _Pater Noster_, which he had not performed: nay hold,
quoth the Sea man, the wager is not finished, for I have but half
done; and so he immediately said his Compass backward very exactly,
which the Judge failing of in his _Pater Noster_, the Seaman carried
away the prize.


      A Grave there was made      [12.]
      For one _Aylet_, he said
  The Bell for him then did toul;
      But you lye like a Knave,
      It is not a Grave,
  But only an Aylet hole.


[17.] One having a very great Nose, and thin beard, was told the
shadow of his Nose did hinder his Beard's growth.


[26.] An Apothecary in _Oxford_ spoke to a Country man by way of Jeer
to bring him some live Rats, and he would give him eighteen pence a
piece for them; and a fortnight after he brought them; and then
the Apothecary told him, _That he was provided the day before_. The
Country Fellow seeing he was abused, was resolved to be quit with him,
saying, _I am unwilling (seeing I have brought them) to carry them
back again_; and told him he would take three pence out in Physick
at some time or other; and so opened his Bag, and let them about the
Shop, which did so whisk up and down the Shelves, that in a little
space they broke him about forty Pots and Glasses, and could never get
rid of them since. _Probatum est._



_A Courtier and a Scholler meeting._

  A Courtier proud walking along the Street,      [5.]
  Hap'ned by chance a Scholler for to meet,
  The Courtier said, (minding nought more than place)
  Unto the Scholler, meeting face to face,
  To take the wall, base men Ile not permit,
  The Scholler said, I will, and gave him it.


[4.] A Lady going to Mass to present her Tapers, fixed one to _St.
Michael_, and another to the _Devil_ that was at his Feet. The Clerk
seeing her, told her she did not well to offer a Candle to the Devil.
_No matter_, says the Lady, _'tis good to have Friends every where;
for we know not where we shall go._


[8.] There was a gentleman fell very sick, and a friend of his said
to him, Surely you are in danger, I pray you send for a Physician; but
the sick man answered, _It is no matter, for if I die I will die at
leisure_.


  A wealthy Misers sonne, upon a day,      [51.]
  Met a poore Youth, that did intreat and pray
  Something of Charitie in his distresse;
  Helpe Sir (quoth hee) one that is Fatherlesse,
  Sirrah (sayd hee) away, begone with speed,
  Ile helpe none such; thou art a Knave indeed:
  Dost thou complaine because thou wants a Father?
  Were it in my case I would rejoyce the rather;
  For if thy Father's death, cause thee repine,
  I would my Father had excused thine.



The little Barly-Corne.[F. 73]

  Whose Properties and Vertues here,
  Shall plainly to the world appeare,
  And make you merry all the yeere.


To the tune of _Stingo_

  Come, and doe not musing stand,      [55.]
    if thou the truth discerne,
  But take a full cup in thy hand,
    and thus begin to learne,
  Not of the earth, nor of the ayre,
    at evening or at morne,
  But, joviale boyes, your Christmas keep
    _with the little Barly-Corne_.

[Illustration]

  It is the cunningst Alchymist,
    that ere was in the Land,
  Twill change your Mettle when it list
    in turning of a hand,
  Your blushing Gold to Silver wan,
    your Silver into Brasse,
  Twill turn a Taylor to a man
    _and a man into an ass_--

  Twill make a poore man rich to hang
    a signe before his doore,
  And those that doe the Pitcher hang,
    tho rich, twill make them poore;
  Twill make the silliest poorest Snake[F. 74]
    the King's great Porter[F. 75] scorne;
  Twill make the stoutest Lubber weak,
    _this little Barley Corne_.

  It hath more shifts than _Lambe_[F. 76] ere had,
    or _Hocus Pocus_ too,
  It will good fellowes shew more sport
    than _Bankes_[F. 77] his horse could doe:
  Twill play you faire above the boord,
    unless you take good heed,
  And fell you though you were a Lord,
    _and iustifie the deed_.

  It lends more yeeres unto old Age,
    than ere was lent by Nature,
  It makes the Poet's fancy rage,
    more than Castalian water;
  Twill make a Huntsman chase a Fox,
    and never winde his Horn,
  Twill cheere a Tinker in the stockes,
    _this little Barly-Corne_.

  It is the only Will o' th' wispe
    which leades men from the way,
  Twill make the tongue ti'd Lawyer lisp
    and naught but (hic-up) say.
  Twill make the Steward droope and stoop
    his Bils he then will scorne,
  And at each post cast his reckning up,
    _this little Barly-Corne_.

  Twill make a man grow jealous soone,
    whose pretty Wife goes trim,
  And raile at the deceiving Moone
    for making hornes at him:
  Twill make the Maidens trimly dance,
    and take it in no scorne,
  And helpe them to a friend by chance;
    _this little Barly-Corne_.

  It is the neatest Serving man
    to entertaine a friend,
  It will doe more than money can,
    all iarring suits to end:
  There's life in it, and it is here,
    'tis here within this Cup,
  Then take your liquor; doe not spare,
    _but cleare carouse it up_.

  If sicknesse Come, this Physick take
    it from your heart will set it,
  If feare incroach, take more of it,
    your heart will soon forget it:
  _Apollo_ and the Muses nine,
    doe take it in no scorne,
  There's no such stuffe to passe the time,
    _as the little Barly-Corne_.

  Twill make a weeping Widdow laugh,
    and some incline to pleasure;
  Twill make an old man leave his staffe
    and dance a youthfull measure:
  And though your clothes be nere so bad,
    all ragged, rent, and torne,
  Against the Cold you may be clad
    _with the little Barly Corne_.

  Twill make a Coward not to shrinke,
    but be as stout as may be,
  Twill make a man that he shall thinke.
    that _Jone's_ as good as my Lady:
  It will inrich the palest face,
    and with Rubies it adorne,
  Yet you shall thinke it no disgrace,
    _this little Barly Corne_.

  Twill make your Gossips merry,
    when they their liquor see,
  Hey, we shall nere be weary,
    sweet Gossip, here's to thee:
  Twill make the Country Yeoman
    the Courtier for to scorne,
  And talk of Law suits ore a Can,
    _with this little Barly Corne_.

  It makes a man that write cannot
    to make you large Indentures,
  When as he reeleth home at night,
    upon the watch he ventures:
  He cares not for the Candle light
    that shineth in the horne,
  Yet he will stumble the way aright,
    _this little Barly-Corne_.

  Twill make a Miser prodigall,
    and shew himselfe kind hearted
  Twill make him never grieve at all,
    that from his Coyne hath parted:
  Twill make a Shepheard to mistake
    his Sheepe before a storme:
  Twill make the Poet to excell,
    _this little Barly-Corne_.

  It will make young Lads to call
    most freely for their Liquor,
  Twill make a young Lass take a fall,
    and rise againe the quicker:
  Twill make a man that he
    shall sleepe all night profoundly,
  And make a man what ere he be
    _goe about his businesse roundly_.

  Thus the Barly-Corne hath power
    even for to change our nature,
  And make a Shrew within an houre,
    prove a kind-hearted creature:
  And therefore here I say againe
    let no man tak't in scorne,
  That I the vertues doe proclaim
    _of the little Barly-Corne_.

Printed in London for E. B.

    [Footnote 73: For tune, see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 74: ? Sneak.]

    [Footnote 75: William Evans, a Welshman in the service
    of Charles I. He was 7 ft. 6 in. high and at a masque at
    Whitehall drew Sir Jeffrey Hudson out of his pocket. There
    used to be a bas-relief over Bull's Head Court in Newgate
    Street, of "The King's Porter and Dwarf."]

    [Footnote 76: Dr. John Lambe was an impostor who early in the
    17th century practised fortune-telling, juggling, showing a
    magic crystal, and recovering stolen goods. He was indicted
    at Worcester for witchcraft, after which he removed to London,
    where he got into trouble, and he was finally pelted to death
    by an infuriated mob on 13th June 1628. There is a very
    rare pamphlet on this subject--"A brief description of the
    notorious life of John Lambe, otherwise called Dr. Lambe,
    together with his ignominious death, with a wood-cut of the
    populace pelting him to death in the City of London." 4^o
    1628.]

    [Footnote 77: Banks was a Scotchman, and his performing horse
    had the rare honour of being alluded to by Shakspeare ("Love's
    Labour's Lost" Act i. s. 2). Moth says to Armado. "Why Sir,
    is this such a piece of study? Now here's three studied, ere
    you'll thrice wink; and how easy it is to put years to the
    word three, and study three years in two words, _the dancing
    horse will tell you_." The horse was certainly wonderfully
    trained, and is spoken of in Tarlton's Jests, as having picked
    him out as being the biggest fool in the company. His tricks
    were marvellous, but perhaps his most noted feat was riding up
    the steeple of St. Paul's in the year 1600. This feat is
    mentioned in the following books. Decker's Dead-Tearme--Owle's
    Almanack, 1618--The Meeting of Gallants at an Ordinarie, or
    the Walkes in Powles, 1604--The Blacke Booke, 1604--Northward
    Hoe, 1607--Rowley's Search for Money, 1609--Decker's Gul's
    Horn-book, 1609--and His Jests to make you merie, 1607. The
    horse afterwards went a continental trip, where he excited
    great wonder, and his high training was put down to
    witchcraft. Indeed a rumour was spread about that both he and
    his master were burnt for sorcery; but this was not so, for
    in Charles I.'s reign mention is more than once made of Banks
    being a vintner in Cheapside. The horse's name was Marocco,
    and there was a very curious book printed in 1595, called
    "Maroccus extaticus or Bankes Bay Horse in a Trance," etc.]


_The Tanner and the Butcher's dogge._

[52.] A Country Tanner that was runing hastily through Eastcheape and
having a long Pike-Staffe on his shoulder, one of the Butchers dogs
caught him by the breech. The fellow got loose, and ranne his pike
into the Dogs throat, and killed him. The Butcher seeing that his
Dog was kill'd tooke hold of the Tanner, and carried him before the
Deputy, who asked him, What reason he had to kill the dogge? For mine
owne defence (quoth the Tanner). Why, quoth the Deputy, hast thou
no other defence but present death? Sir, quoth the Tanner, London
fashions are not like the Countries, for here the stones are fast in
the streets, and the Dogs are loose, but in the Country, the dogs are
fast tied, and the stones are loose to throw at them; and what should
a man do in this extremity, but use his staffe for his own defence?
Marry (quoth the Deputy) if a man will needs use his staffe, he might
use his blunt end, and not the sharp pike. True, Master Deputy, quoth
the Tanner, but you must consider, if the Dog had used his blunt end,
and runne his taile at me, then had there good reason for me to do
the like; but I vow Master Deputy, the Dogge came sharpe at me, and
fastned his teeth in my breech, and I again ranne sharp at him, and
thrust my pike into his belly. By my faith a crafty knave, quoth the
Deputy, if you will both stand to my verdict, send for a quart of
wine, be friends, and so you are both discharged.


_Cede majoribus._

  I took the wall, one rudely thrust me by,      [5.]
  And told me the high way did open lye,
  I thankt him that he would mee so much grace,
  To take the worse and leave the better place.
  For if by owners we esteem of things
  The wall's the subject's, but the way the King's.

[32.] What is the most profitable beast, and that men eat least on?
_Solution._ It is a Bee, for it maketh both hony and wax, and yet
costeth his master nothing the keeping.


  Mr. _Button_ being dead,      [12.]
  He was so fat, one said
  That his Grave was three foot o're;
      Why, you talk like a Fool,
      'Tis but a Button-hole
  To Graves I have made before.


[54.] Act 1. s. 6. Dame Purecraft. Win the fight Littlewit (her
daughter) John Little wit (a Proctor, Win's husband) Zeal of the land
Busy (a _Banbury_[F. 78] man suitor to Dame Purecraft.)

_Purecraft._ Now the blaze of the beauteous discipline, fright away
this evill from our house! how now _Win the fight_, Child: how do you?
Sweet child, speake to me.

_Win._ Yes forsooth.

_Pure._ Looke up, sweet _Win the fight_, and suffer not the enemy to
enter you at this doore, remember that your education has bin with the
purest; what polluted one was it, that nam'd first the uncleane beast,
Pigge, to you, Child?

_Win._ Uh, uh.

_John._ Not I, o' my sincerity, mother; she long'd above three houres,
ere she would let me know it; who was it _Win_?

_Win._ A prophane blacke thing with a beard, John.

_Pure._ O! resist it, _Win the fight_, it is the Tempter, the wicked
Tempter, you may know it by the fleshly motion of Pig; be strong
against it, and its foule temptations, in these assaults, whereby it
broacheth flesh and blood, as it were, on the weaker side, and pray
against its carnall provocations, good child, sweet child, pray.

_John._ Good mother, I pray you, that she may eate some Pigge, and her
bellyfull too; and doe not you cast away your owne child, and perhaps
one of mine, with your tale of the Tempter: how doe you, _Win_? Are
you not sicke?

_Win._ Yes, a great deale _John_ (uh, uh).

_Pure._ What shall we doe? call our zealous brother _Busy_ hither, for
his faithfull fortification in this charge of the adversary; childe,
my dear childe, you shall eate Pigge; be comforted, my sweet childe.

_Win._ I,[F. 79] but i' the _Fayre_, mother.

_Pure._ I meane i' the _Fayre_, if it can be any way made, or found
lawfull; where is our brother _Busy_? Will hee not come? looke up,
Child.

_John._ Presently, mother, as soone as he has cleans'd his beard. I
found him fast by the teeth, i' the cold Turkey pye, i' th' cupbord,
with a great white loafe on his left hand, and a glasse of _Malmesey_
on his right.

_Pure._ Slander not the _Brethren_ wicked one.

_John._ Here hee is, now, purified, Mother.

_Pure._ O brother _Busy_! your helpe heere to edifie, and raise us up
in a Scruple, my daughter _Win the fight_ is visited with a naturall
disease of women; call'd A longing to eate Pigge.

_John._ I, Sir, a _Bartholomew_[F. 80] pigge; and in the _Fayre_.

_Pure._ And I would be satisfied from you, Religiously-wise, whether a
widdow of the sanctified assembly, or a widdowes daughter, may commit
the act, without offence to the weaker sisters.

_Busy._ Verily, for the disease of longing, it is a disease, a carnall
disease, or appetite, incident to women: and as it is carnall, and
incident, it is naturall, very naturall: Now Pigge, it is a meat, and
a meat that is nourishing, and may be long'd for, and so consequently
eaten; it may be eaten; very exceeding well eaten; but in the _Fayre_,
and as a _Bartholomew_-pig it can not be eaten, for the very calling
it a _Bartholomew_-pigge, and to eate it so, is a spice of _Idolatry_,
and you make the _Fayre_ no better than one of the high _Places_.
This, I take it is the state of the question. A high place.

_John._ I, but in a state of necessity, _Place_ should give place Mr
_Busy_. (I have a conceit left, yet)

_Pure._ Good brother _Zeale of the land_, thinke to make it as lawfull
as you can.

_John._ Yes, Sir, and as soone as you can; for it must be, Sir; you
see the danger my little wife is in Sir.

_Pure._ Truely, I doe love my child dearely, and I would not have her
miscarry or hazard her first fruites if it might be otherwise.

_Busy._ Surely, it may be otherwise, but it is subject to
construction, subject, and hath a face of offence, with the weake, a
great face, a foule face, but that face may have a vaile put over it
and be shaddowed, as it were, it may be eaten, and in the _Fayre_, I
take it, in a Booth, the tents of the wicked: the place is not much,
not very much, we may be religious in midst of the prophane, so it
be eaten with a reformed mouth, with _Sobriety_, and humblenesse; not
gorg'd in with gluttony, or greedinesse; there's the feare: for
should she goe there, as taking pride in the place, or delight in the
uncleane dressing, to feed the vanity of the eye, or the lust of the
palat, it were not well, it were not fit, it were abominable, and not
good.

_John._ Nay, I knew that afore, and told her on't, but courage, _Win_,
we'll be humble enough; we'll seek out the homeliest Booth i' the
_Fayre_, that's certaine; rather than faile, wee'll eate it o' the
ground.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Busy._ In the way of comfort to the weake, I will goe, and eat. I
will eate exceedingly, and prophesie; there may be a good use made of
it, too, now I thinke on't; by the publike eating of Swines flesh, to
professe our hate, and loathing of _Iudaisme_, whereof the brethren
stand taxed; I will therefore eate, yea, I will eate exceedingly.

    [Footnote 78: A synonym for a Puritan, as Butler says in
    _Hudibras_--

      "Through Banbury I passed, O profane one,
      And there I saw a Puritane one
      Hanging of his Cat on Monday
      For killing of a Rat on Sunday."
    ]

    [Footnote 79: I is frequently used for ay.]

    [Footnote 80: It was the proper thing to eat roast sucking pig
    at Bartholomew fair.]


_Why women weare a fall._

  A question 'tis why women weare a fall,      [5.]
  The truth it is to pride they are given all,
  And pride the proverbe saies must have a fall.

      A Gentleman did say      [12.]
      On the last Twelf-day,
  That Cheese digests ev'ry thing;
      Y'are dispos'd to jest,
      And will ne're be at rest,
  But at all will have a fling.
      I'le say't o're agen
      Nay, before any Men,
  That it causes a good digestion;
      You'l jest on still,
      Let me say what I will,
  Though you ne're are askt the Question.


[32.] What is it that goeth to the water, and leaveth its guts at
home? _Solution._ It is a pillow beer,[F. 81] for when it goeth to
washing, the pillow and the feathers be left at home.

    [Footnote 81: Pillow case.]


[17.] Two Widdows sitting by the fire, were chatting together of their
dead Husbands; and one said, come, let us have another candle, for my
poor Husband lov'd light, God send him Light ever lasting; and
says the other; My poor Husband lov'd a good fire, I wish him Fire
everlasting.


[26.] A Young Country Fellow went a Wooing to a Country Lass, and he
had on then a speck and Span new Suit with Silver Buttons also; and in
all his Discourse with her, he used all the Art he could, to have
her take notice of his Buttons; at last when he saw she would take no
Notice of them at all: _Well_, says he, _these Silver Buttons keep me
so warm_: _Yes_, says she, _you had best lie in them all night, lest
you should take cold this frosty weather._



The poore man payes for all.

  This is but a dreame which here shall insue,
  But the Author wishes his words were not true.

To the Tune of _In slumbring sleepe I lay_.

[Illustration]


  As I lay musing all alone      [56.]
    upon my resting bed,
  Full many a cogitation
    did come into my head:
  And waking from my sleepe, I
    my dreame to mind did call,
  Methought I saw before mine eyes,
    _how poore men payes for all_.

  I many objects did behold,
    in this my frightfull Dreame,
  A part of them I will unfold;
    and though my present Theame
  Is but a fancy you may say,
    yet many things doe fall
  Too true alas; for at this day
    _the poore man payes for all_.

  Methought I saw (which caused my care)
    what I wish were a fable,
  That poore men still inforced are
    to pay more than they are able;
  Me thought I heard them weeping say,
    their substance was but small,
  For rich men will beare all the sway,
    _and poore men pay for all_.

  Me thought I saw how wealthy men
    did grind the poore mens faces,
  And greedily did prey on them,
    not pittying their cases:
  They make them toyle and labour sore,
    for wages too too small:
  The rich men in the Tavernes rore,
    _but poore men pay for all_.

  Methought I saw an Usurer old
    walke in his Fox-fur'd gowne,
  Whose wealth and eminence control'd
    the most men in the Towne:
  His wealth he by extortion got,
    and rose by others fall,
  He had what his hands earned not,
    _but poor men pay for all_.

  Me thought I saw a Courtier proud,
    goe swaggering along,
  That unto any scarce allow'd
    the office of his tongue:
  Me thought wert not for bribery,
    his Peacocks plumes would fall,
  He ruffles out in bravery,
    _but poor men pay for all_.

  Me thought I met (sore discontent)
    some poore men on the way,
  I asked one whither he went,
    so fast, and could not stay?
  Quoth he, I must go take my Lease,
    or else another shall,
  My Landlords riches doe increase,
    _but poore men pay for all_.

  Me thought I saw most stately wives
    go jetting[F. 82] on the way,
  That live delightfull idle lives,
    and go in garments gay:
  That with the men their shapes doe change,
    or else they'l chide and brawle,
  Thus women goe like monsters strange,
    _but poore men pay for all_.

  Me thought I was i' th' countrey
    where poore men take great paines,
  And labour hard continually,
    onely for rich mens gaines:
  Like th' Israelites in _Egypt_,
    the poore are kept in thrall,
  The task-masters are playing kept,
    _but poore men pay for all_.

  Me thought I saw poore Tradesmen
    i' th' City and else where,
  Whom rich men keepe as beads-men,
    in bondage, care, and feare:
  Thei'l have them worke for what they list,
    thus weakest goe to the wall,
  The rich men eate and drinke the best
    _but poore men pay for all_.

  Me thought I saw two Lawyers base
    one to another say,
  We have had in hand this poore mans Case,
    a twelvemonth and a day;
  And yet wee'l not contented be
    to let the matter fall,
  Beare thou with me, & Ile beare with thee
    _while poore men pay for all_.

  Me thought I saw a red-nose Oast,
    as fat as he could wallow,
  Whose carkasse, if it should be roast,
    would drop seven stone of tallow:
  He grows rich out of measure,
    with filling measure small,
  He lives in mirth and pleasure,
    _but poore men pay for all_.

  And so likewise the Brewer stout,
    the Chandler and the Baker,
  The Mault man also without doubt,
    and the Tobacco taker,
  Though they be proud and stately growne,
    and beare themselves so tall,
  Yet to the world it is well knowne,
    _that poore men pay for all_.

  Even as the mighty fishes still,
    doe feed upon the lesse;
  So rich men, might they have ther will
    would on the poore man ceaze[F. 83]
  It is a proverbe old and true,
    that weakest goe to th' wall,
  Rich men can drinke till th' sky looke blue,
    _but poore men pay for all_.

  But now, as I before did say,
    this is but a Dreame indeed,
  Though all dreames prove not true, some may
    hap right, as I doe reade.
  And if that any come to passe,
    I doubt this my Dreame shall;
  For still tis found too true a case,
    _that poore men pay for all_.

FINIS.

Printed at London for H. G.

    [Footnote 82: Strutting.]

    [Footnote 83: Seize.]


_A Witty answer of a Countrey fellow._

[52.] A Country fellow walking London Streets, and gazing up and
down at every sight he saw, some mockt him, others pulled him by the
Cloake, in so much he could not passe in quiet. He having as much wit,
as the boyes knavery, thought hee would requite them for their kinde
salutations, with something to laugh at, and to try their wits; and,
comming to Paul's gate, where they sell pinnes and Needles, the boyes
being very saucie, pulled him by the cloake, and one said. What lacke
you friend? another, What lacke you Countryman? Quoth the fellow,
minding to make himself some sport, I want a hood for a Humble Bee,
or a payre of Spectacles for a blinde Beare: which so amazed the boy,
that he had nothing to reply, and the Countrey Man went laughing away.


[32.] What is that which 20 will goe into a Tankard, and one will fill
a Barn?

_Solution._ It is 20 Candles not lighted and one lighted.


  A Sort of Clownes for loss which they sustain'd    [51.]
  By Souldiers, to the Captaine sore complain'd,
  With dolefull wordes, and very woefull faces,
  They Moov'd him to compassionate their Cases.
  Good Sir (sayes one) I pray redress our wrong,
  They that have done it, unto you belong;
  Of all that eare we had we are bereft,
  Except our very Shirts, theres nothing left.
  The Captaine answer'd thus; Fellowes heare mee:
  My Souldiers rob'd you not, I plainely see:
  At your first speech, you made me somewhat sad,
  But your last wordes resolv'd the doubt I had.
  For they which rifled you left Shirts (you say)
  And I am sure mine carry all away:
  By this I know an errour you are in,
  My Souldiers would have left you but your skin.


[4.] A brisk young Lady, seeing the Sheriff of a County who was a
comely young Man, wait upon the Judge who was an old Man, was asked
by one, which she had most mind to, the Judge or the Sheriff? She
answered, the Sheriff. He asking the reason, she replied, _That she
loved Judgement well, but Execution much better_.


      One did praise dead Beer,    [12.]
      Says his Friend, I fear
  That you have a Worm in your Head;
      Why de'e praise dead Beer?
      So must you too I swear,
  We must all speak well of the dead.


[52.] It chanced, on a Bartholomew-day, when men keep Boothes in
Smithfield, a Countrey Gentleman having some Store of money (and no
lesse honesty) about him, comming to the Faire, would, amongst the
rest needes view the pictures at that time hanging in the Cloysters,
where was then much variety of postures, personages, stories,
landskips, and such like, which carieth away the Senses, to a kinde
of admiration for the present: and as he was thus gazing up and down,
there comes a nimble diver (as at that time there resorts many) and
closes with him, and quickly draws his purse forth of his pocket, and
away he hies him presently: the Gentleman mist his purse, but knew not
how to helpe himselfe. Going home to his lodging, and pondering in
his minde how either to regain his losses, or to be revenged on the
Pick-pocket, at length he bethought himself of this device: he caused
an honest Taylor to sew a certain number of Fish hookes within, and
round about the mouth of his pocket; with the poynts of the hookes
hanging downward, and the next day hies him to the same place, in
another Countrey like habit, and baites his Pocket with more money,
and there he stood gazing againe at the pictures, presently his former
fish (or one of his fraternity) closes with him again, and dives,
which the Gentleman being watchfull of, gives a slip aside and had
presently strucke the nibling fish into the hand, and feeling him
fast, begins to goe away, and the more he hastes away, the deeper the
hookes went into the Divers hand, Oh, (quoth the Pick-pocket) how now
Sir (quoth the Gentleman) what makes your hand in my Pocket? Pull it
out I say: Oh Sir (quoth he) I beseech you be good to me: The people
gathering together, imagined the Gentleman had an inchanted Pocket,
and that the fellow had not power to pull forth his hand again, they
would have him before the Justice. No (quoth the Gentleman) Ile carry
him myselfe, so away he went (with the fellowes hand in his Pocket) to
a Taverne, with two or three of his friends, and told him what he had
lost there the day before, and unlesse he would restore it, he
would have him before a Justice: which match the fellow for feare of
hanging, willingly condescended to surrender. And that ten pound, and
ten shillings more towards the mending of his Pocket: so the Gentleman
being well satisfied, ript forth his pocket, and away went the
Cutpurse, who had so much picking worke to get out of his hands, he
could not use his trade for a Moneth after.


[32.] I came to a tree where were apples, I eat no apples, I gave away
no apples, nor I left no apples behind me: and yet I eat, gave away,
and left behind me. _Solution._ There were three apples on the tree,
for I eat one apple, gave away one apple, and left one. So I eat no
apples, for I eat but one apple, which is no apples, and thus I gave
away no apples, for I gave but one, and thus I left no apples for I
left but one.


  When _Crassus_ in his office was instal'd,    [5.]
  For summs of money, which he yet doth owe,
  A client by the name of Clerk him Call'd,
  As he next day to Westminster did go.
  Which _Crassus_ hearing, whispers thus in's eare,
  Sirrah, you now mistake, and much do erre,
  That henceforth must the name of Clerke forbear,
  And know I am become an Officer.
      Alas (quoth he) I did not so much marke,
      Good Mr Officer, that are no clerke.


[8.] When Sir _Thomas Moore_ lived in the City of _London_, being one
of the Justices of Peace, he used to go to the Sessions at _New-gate_,
where it fell out that one of the ancientest Justices of the Bench was
wont to chide the poor men whose purses had been cut, for not being
more careful; telling them their negligence was the cause that so
many cut-purses were brought thither, which when Sir _Thomas Moore_
observed him so often to repeat at one time, especially; the night
after, he sent for one of the chief Cut-purses that was in prison, and
promised to save him harmless, and stand his friend too, if he would
cut the aforesaid Justices Purse the next day as he sate on the Bench,
and then presently make a sign of it to him: the fellow very gladly
promiseth him to do it the next day; therefore, when they sate again,
that Thief was called among the first, who, being accused of his fact,
said he did not doubt but that he could sufficiently excuse himself,
if he were permitted to speak to some of the Bench in private. He was
therefore bid to chuse one who he would, and presently he chose that
grave old man, who then had his pouch at his girdle, as they wore them
in those dayes; and whilst he whispered him in the ear, he cunningly
cut his purse, and then solemnly taking his leave, returns to his
place. Sir _Thomas_ knowing by a private sign, that the business was
dispatcht, presently took occasion to move the Bench to distribute
some alms to a poor needy fellow that was there, and for good example
began himself to do it; when the old man came to open his purse,
and sees it cut away, and, much wondering, said he was confident he
brought it with him when he came thither that morning, Sir _Thomas_
replied presently, _What! will you charge any of us with felony?_ But
his choler rising, and he being ashamed of the thing, Sir _Thomas_
calls the Cut-purse and bids him give him his purse again, and withal
advised the good old Justice hereafter _Not to be so bitter a censurer
of innocent mens negligence, when as himself could not secure his
purse in that open assembly_.



  A merry Jest of _John Tomson_ and _Jakaman_ his Wife
  Whose Jealousie was justly the cause of all their strife.


To the Tune of Pegge of Ramsey.[F. 84]

[Illustration]

  When I was a Batchelour    [57.]
    I liv'd a merry life,
  But now I am a married man,
    and troubled with a wife,
  I cannot doe as I have done,
    because I live in feare,
  If I goe but to _Islington_,
    my wife is watching there
  _Give me my yellow Hose againe_,
    _give me my yellow hose;_
  _For now my wife she watcheth me_,
    _see yonder where she goes_.

  But when I was a prentice bound,
    and my Indentures made:
  In many faults I have beene found
    yet never thus afraid.
  For if I chance now by the way
    a woman for to kisse,
  The rest are ready for to say
    thy Wife shall know of this.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  Thus when I come in company
    I passe my mirth in feare,
  For one or other merrily,
    will say my wife is there.
  And then my look doth make them laugh,
    to see my wofull case:
  How I stand like _John hold my staffe_,
    and dare not shew my face.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  There comes a handsome woman in,
    and shakes me by the hand:
  But how my wife she did begin,
    now you shall understand.
  Faire dame (quoth she) why dost thou so?
    he gave his hand to me:
  And thou shalt know before thou go,
    he is no man for thee.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  Good wife (quoth she) now doe not scould,
    I will doe so no more;
  I thought I might have beene so bolde
    I knowing him before.
  With that my wife was almost mad,
    yet many did intreat her;
  And I, God knowes, was very sad,
    for feare she would have beat her.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  Thus marriage is an enterprise
    experience doth show;
  But scolding is an exercise,
    that married men doe know.
  For all this while there was no blowes,
    yet still their tongues was talking;
  And very fain would yellow hose
    have had her fists a walking.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  In comes a neighbour of our towne,
    an honest man, God wot:
  And he must needes goe sit him downe,
    and call in for his pot.
  And said to me, I am the man
    which gave to you your wife,
  And I will doe the best I can,
    to mend this wicked life.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  I gave him thankes, and bad him goe,
    and so he did indeed,
  And told my wife she was a shrow,
    but that was more than need.
  Saith he, thou hast an honest man,
    and one that loves thee well;
  Said she, you are a foole, good sir,
    It's more than you can tell.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  And yet in truth he loveth me,
    but many more beside;
  And I may say, good Sir, to thee,
    that I cannot abide,
  For though he loves me as his life
    yet now, sir, wot you what,
  They say he loves his neighbours wife,
    I pray you how like you that.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  Saith he, I hope I never shall
    seeke fancy fond to follow,
  For love is lawfull unto all
    except it be too yellow.
  Which lyeth like the Jaundies so,
    in these our Women's faces;
  That watch their husbands where they go
    and hunt them out in places.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  Now comes my Neighbour's wife apace,
    to talke a word or two,
  My wife then meets her face to face,
    and saith, dame, is it you
  That makes so much of my good man,
    as if he were your owne?
  Then clamp as closely as you can,
    I know it will be known.
        _Give me my yellow hose &c._

  Now when I saw the woman gone,
    I call'd my wife aside,
  And said why art thou such a one,
    that thou canst not abide
  A woman for to talke with mee,
    this is a wofull case,
  That I must keepe no company
    except you be in place.
        _Give me my yellow hose &c._

  This maketh Batchelers to wooe
    so long before they wed,
  Because they heare that women now
    will be their husband's head.
  And seven yeare long I tarried
    for Jakaman my wife,
  But now that I am married
    I am weary of my life.
        _Give me my yellow hose &c._

  For yellow love is too, too bad,
    without all wit or policie,
  And too much love hath made her mad,
    and fill'd her full of Jelousie.
  She thinkes I am in love with those
    I speake to passing by
  That makes her wear the yellow hose
    I gave her for to dye.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  But now I see shee is so hot
    and lives so much at ease,
  I will goe get a Souldiers coate,
    and sayle beyond the Seas;
  To serve my Captain where and whan,
    though it be to my paine,
  Thus farewell gentle Jakaman,
    till we two meet againe.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  Quoth she, good husband, doe not deale
    thus hardly now with me,
  And of a truth, I will reveale
    my cause of jealousie:
  You know I alwaies paid the score,
    you put me still in trust,
  I saved twenty pound and more,
    confesse it needes I must.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  But now my saving of the same,
    for aught that I doe know;
  Made Jelousie to fire her frame,
    to weave this web of woe:
  And thus this foolish love of mine
    was very fondly bent,
  But now my gold and goods are thine,
    good husband, be content.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._

  And thus to lead my life a new,
    I fully now purpose;
  That thou maist change thy coat of blew,
    and I my yellow hose.
  This being done, our Country wives
    may warning take by me,
  How they doe live such jealous lives,
    as I have done with thee.
        _Give me my yellow Hose &c._
                                      M. L.

FINIS.

Imprinted at London for Edward Wright.[F. 85]--

    [Footnote 84: For tune, see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 85: Edward Wright lived at Christ Church Gate, and
    published between 1620 and 1655, at which date he assigns to
    W. Gilbertson.]


[17.] Two riding down a great hill together, one said, it was
dangerous riding down: No, says t'other, I will not light; for I have
but one pair of shooes, and I shall spoil 'em: says the other, and I
have but one neck, and I fear I shall spoil that, and therefore I'l.
light.


      One hung a dirty sheet    [12.]
      On a pale in the street,
  And there it did hang all the day
      But 'twas stole at Night,
      Says the Man, by this light
  They have stole it clean away.


[52.] Three loytring companions that fell in company together,
domineered and swaggered so long, that all their mony was quite
consumed and gone. So being pennilesse, and having little or no credit
at all left, one of them said, Wee are now in a faire taking: for
we may, if we please seek our Dinners with Duke _Humphry_. Nay, hold
(quoth the second) If I come where any presse of people be, I can get
mony enough for us all. And I (quoth the third) can as easily assemble
people. They were at that time not much above two miles from a small
Towne in Bark shire, where, when as thither they came, there was a new
Pillory, newly set up, which the third of them seeing, steps to the
Bailiffe, and desires him to have the first turn at their new Pillory.
The Bailiffe, being a Butcher, was half amazed, and standing a while
musing, at the last asked counsell of his honest neighbours, and they
bad him set up the knave and spare not. So he makes no more a doe,
but up he went, and when he was up, he looked about, and saw his two
fellow Cheaters busie with their hands in the holes of the Butcher's
aprons, where they put all their money. To it, to it (quoth he) apace.
The people laughed heartily to see him stand there. At last, when he
saw that his fellows had sped their matters, and were going away,
he said to the Bailiffe, Turn the Pillory about, and now I will come
down. So he, laughing heartily, did. And when he was come down, the
Bailiffe said, now art thou an honest good fellow, and because thou
hast made us some sport, I will give thee a Teaster to drink; and,
thinking to take some money out of the hole of his apron, he found
there never a penny. Cockes armes, quoth the Bailiffe, my money is
picked out of my apron; and then the rest of the Butcher's besides
swore they had lost theirs also. I hope, quoth the fellow, you do not
think that I have it. No, certainly, quoth the Bailiffe, I know well
enough thou hast it not; for thou wert on the pillory all the while.
Why then no harm, for I did it to make you merry, quoth the fellow,
and so went his wayes.


  Gentlemen that approch about my Stall,      [51.]
  To most rare Phisicke I invite you all;
  Come neere and harken what I have to sell,
  And deale with mee all those that are not well.
  In this Boxe heere, I have such precious stuffe,
  To give it prayse, I have not words enuffe:
  If any Humour in your Braines be crept,
  I'le fetch it out, as if your heads were swept.
  Almost through _Europe_ I have shewne my face
  In every Towne, and every Market-place--
  Behold this salve, (I do not use to lye)
  Whole Hospitals there have been curde thereby.
  I doe not stand heere like a tattar'd slave,
  My Velvet, and my Chaine of Gold I have:
  Which cannot be maintained by mens lookes;
  Friends, all your Towne is hardly worth my Bookes.
  There stands my Coach and Horses, t'is mine owne;
  From hence to _Turkie_ is my credite knowne:
  In sooth I cannot boast, as many will,
  Let nothing speake for mee, but onely skill.
  See you that thing like Ginger-bread lies there.
  My tongue cannot expresse to any eare
  The sundrie vertues that it doth containe,
  Or number halfe the Wormes that it hath slaine.
  If in your Bellies there be crawlers bred
  In multitudes like Haires upon your head,
  Within some howers space, or there about,
  At all the holes you have, I'le fetch them out,
  And ferret them before that I have done,
  Even like the Hare that foorth a Bush doth run.
  Heere is a wond'rous Water for the Eye;
  This for the Stomacke: Maisters will you buy?
  When I am gone, you will repent too late,
  And then (like fooles) among yourselves will prate,
  Oh that we had that famous Man againe,
  When I shall be suppli'd in _France_ or _Spaine_:
  Now, for a _Stater_,[F. 86] you a Box shall have
  That will the lives of halfe a dozen save.
  My man has come, and in mine eare he sayes
  At home for me at least an hundred stayes,
  All Gentlemen; yet for your Good, you see,
  I make them tarry, and attend for mee.
  If that you have no Money, let me know,
  Phisicke of almes upon you Ile bestow.
  What Doctor in the world can offer more?
  Such arrant Clownes I never knew before:
  Heere you doe stand like Owles and gaze on mee,
  But not a Penny from you I can see.
  A man shall come to doe such Dunces good,
  And cannot have his meaning understood?
  To talke to senselesse people is in vaine,
  I'le see you hang'd ere I'le come heere againe:
  Be all diseas'd as bad as Horses be
  And die in ditches like to Dogges, for me!
  An Old-wives-medicine, Parseley, Time and Sage,
  Will serve such Buzzards in this scurvey age:
  Goose grease and Fennell, with a few Dog-dates,
  Is excellent for such base lowzey mates:
  Farewell, some Hempton[F. 87] halter be the Charme,
  To stretch your neckes as long as is mine arme.

    [Footnote 86: A "façon de parler;" a stater really was a
    tetradrachm in silver, and was worth about half a crown.]

    [Footnote 87: Hempen.]


The following is a Satire on card-playing, which, doubtless, was
carried to excess by the Cavaliers in Charles I.'s time.

[58.]

[Illustration: "Ile trump that Sir"

  _Puss my aple gainst thy mouse jle lay
  The gam's mine jf thast ne'r a trump to play
  Mister apes face thart deceiud in mee
  I haue many trumpshers one dost see_

  _For a pint of wine the drawer call
  I come o prittie d'ye see this squall
  Apes and Catts to play at Cards are fitt
  Men & women ought to have more witt_
]


[59.] A Continuation of a Catalogue of Ladies to be set up by AUCTION,
on _Monday_ the 6^{th} of this Instant _July_.

Catalogues are distributed by the Booksellers of _London_ &
_Westminster_.


CONDITIONS OF SALE.

_First._ He who bids most is the Buyer, and if any Difference arises,
she is to be put up again.

_Secondly._ That no Person shall bid less than £500 the first
Proposal, and always advance £100.

_Thirdly._ That all of them shall be bound up in Silks; and if any
shall happen to be otherwise, the Party that buys them shall be at
Liberty to take them away or leave them.


By _E. Cl----r_ Auctioneer that sold the young Heiress in _Q----_
Street.

                                                                     £
   1. One brisk Underbuilt young Widdow near _Temple Bar_         1000

   2. A Buxome young Maid of 19 years of age, who
        stinks of powder, by the same _Barr_, provided
        her Father hath not given the £800 to the
        Poor, will be worth                                       2000

   3. A Vintner's Widdow, who formerly lived against
        _St Dunstan's_ Church, by reason of her non-Reputation     500

   4. Three Sisters in _Shier Lane_ very brisk, but 2^{nd}
        hand, and go for Maids, each                               800

   5. An old Maiden-Sempstress in Fleet Street.                    500

   6. A Booksellers only Daughter in _S^t Paul's_ Church
        Yard, if her Fathers Debts be all paid, value.            1600

   7. A rich Widdow, Humptback, and crooked Legs,
        who has buried 2 Husb.                                    1900

   8. A Country Farmer's Daughter, lately come to
        town, and lodges in _Essex Street_, a good face,
        but an ugly gate.                                         1100

   9. A famous Conventicler's Daughter, near _Covent
        Garden_, provided he has a good gathering this
        year, will give her                                       1500

  10. A Councellor's Daughter in the _Temple_, very well
        accomplished, only loves Brandy                           2300

  11. An _Irish_ Lady, very tall, aged 16.                        2700

  12. A Soliciters Daughter, not streight but a good Face.        4000

  13. Two Sisters, tall handsome Women, lodging by
        _Shooe Lane_, each                                        1000

  14. A Plummers Daughter, in _Fleet Street_, brisk and
        airy, not to be bought under a Coach and 6.               1200

  15. A Taylor's Daughter in the same Court, with a
        Flaxen Tow'r to cover her Carret head, worth               800

  16. A Fat Widdow of _S^t Brides_ Parish, she is but a
        little foolish, a Lumping Penny worth,                     200

  17. An Ale house keepers Daughter in _Bell-yard_, worth         0000
        (To advance a Cravat String of 18^d each bidding)

  18. A Barbers Wife near _S^t Dunstans_ Church, lately
        divorced from her Husband, a pretty Woman,
        and fit for service.                           What you please

  19. The Widdow of the Famous _Dr S----fold_, late
        Student in Physick Astrology and Poetry, besides
        her Talent in a Napkin.                          200 per. Ann.

  20. A young Orphan, Right Honourable by the Fathers
        side, and Right by the Mothers                            3000


          One a Licence had got                 [12.]
          For to begg, God wot,
  And of a poor Scholar begg'd a Doller;
          Thou hast Lice I do fear,
          But no sence, I swear,
  For to begg of a very poor Scholar.


[18.] An Author's House being on fire whilst he was poring on his
Books, he called to his Wife and bad her look to it. _You know_, says
he, _I don't concern myself with the household_.


[17.] One parting a Fray, was cut into the Scul: says the Surgeon,
Sir, one may see your brains: Nay then I'l be hang'd, says he, for if
I had had any brains, I had never come there.


[17.] A Gentleman losing his way galloping furiously over the plow'd
Lands towards _Tame_, and meeting one, said, Friend is this the way to
_Tame?_ Yes Sir, says he, your Horse, if he be as wild as the Devil.



THE VIRGIN RACE

_Or, York-shires Glory_.

    Being an Account of a Race lately Run at
    _Temple-Newnham-Green_; None being admitted to run, but such
    as were supposed Virgins. The first that came to the two
    Miles-Race end, was to have a Silver Spoon, the second, a
    silver bodkin, the third a Silver Thimble, and the fourth
    Nothing at all.


Tune is, _a New Game at Cards_.

[Illustration]

  You that do desire to hear,         [60.]
  Of a Virgin Race run in _York-Shire_,
  Come and Listen, I'le declare,
  Such News before, you never did hear;
      For I think since the World begun
      But seldom Virgins Races run.

  Four Virgins that supposed were
  A Race did run I now declare,
  Sure such a Race was never seen,
  As this at _Temple Newnham Green_.
      In half-shirts & Drawers these Maids did run
      But Bonny _Nan_ the Race has won

  A Silver Spoon this _Nan_ obtain'd
  The next a Silver Bodkin gain'd
  The third that was not quite so nimble,
  Was to have a Silver Thimble;
      And she that was the last of all.
      Nothing unto her share did fall.

  In Drawers Red _Ann Clayton_ run,
  And she it was the Race that won;
  _Pegg Hall_ as I may tell to you,
  Did run in Drawers that were Blew;
      Honest _Alice Hall_ that was the third,
      Her Drawers were white upon my word.

  A concourse great of People were
  For to behold these Virgins there,
  Who so well acted the Mans part,
  And love a Man with all their heart;
      But what means this, for well we know
      Maids through the Nation all do so.

  Now let us come to Bonny _Nan_,
  Who won a Race once of a man,
  In _Bassing Hall Street_ he did dwell
  His name was _Luke_, 'tis known full well;
      And let me now declare to you,
      At something else she'l beat him too.

  Let none the _York-shire_ Girls despise
  Who are so Active now a days,
  So brisk and nimble they do grow,
  That few can match them, I do know:
      Then let us stand up for _York shire_,
      Those Country Girls I love most dear.

  A _York shire_ Girl who can outvie,
  No City Girls can them come nigh,
  They've Rosey Blushes in their Cheeks,
  While City Girls are Green as Leeks,
      This with my fancy will agree
      A _York shire_ Girl shall be for me.

  Then here's a Health to a _York shire_ Girl,
  For in my eye she is a Pearl
  Whose Beauty doth so charm mine eye,
  That for her I would freely dye.
      Her virtues do her face adorn,
      And makes her look fresh as the Morn.

  Now to conclude unto my friend
  These Lines I freely recommend;
  Advising him above the rest,
  To love a _Yorkshire_ Girl the best;
      But let him use his skill for I
      Will love a _Yorkshire_ Girl until I dye

FINIS

Printed for J Wright, J Clark, W Thackeray, and T. Passinger--


[61.] There were two good fellows of ancient society (who had not seen
one another in a great space of tyme) that one morning very luckily
met each other in _Budge Row_, and after some signes of gladnesse to
meet so happily, they agreed upon a mornings draught, which lasted
almost till noon, in which time they were both sufficiently liquor'd.
But their bellies being fuller than their brains, they did resolve to
bring up the rear of that morning's action with a Cup of Canary;
away they went to the Swan Tavern at _Dowgate_, where for three hours
longer they sat pecking at one another, like two Game Cocks at the
end of a battaile, untill both their Eyes were in a very glimmering
Condition. In the mean time, whilst they were thus toaping, there fell
an exceeding violent and continuing glut of Rain, so that it flowed up
to the threshold of the Tavern door, and no passenger could get over:
By this time my good fellows having call'd, and paid the reckoning,
they both came reeling to the door, and seeing so broad a water
tumbled down _Dowgate_, one of them swore it was the Thames, and began
to call a Sculler; the other being unwilling to engage further,
said he would take his leave, which he did with so low a bending
Complement, that his britch touching a little too hard against the
stump of a post which was behind him, that it made him rebound into
the middle of the stream with his head forward. The unfortunate fellow
was no sooner in, but he began to stretch forth his Armes and Leggs to
swim; the other which stood upon the shore, cryed out lamentably for
the danger of his friend, and deploring the loss of so good a fellow,
and what loss his Wife and Children would suffer in his death. But in
conclusion (as the last word of Comfort) he calls out to him in these
words. Dost thou hear Friend! Friend! if thou canst but Gaine _Temple
Staire's_ thou wilt be safe, I warrant thee, unto which the swimming
man made reply. A pox of Gaine, I do not think of Gaine, if I can but
save myself, I care not.


_Quidam erat._

  A preaching fryar there was, who thus began,      [5.]
  The Scripture saith there was a certaine man:
  A certaine man? but I do read no where,
  Of any certaine woman[F. 88] mention'd there:
  A certaine man, a phrase in Scripture common,
  But no place shewes there was a Certaine Woman:
  And fit it is, that we should ground our faith
  On nothing more than what the Scripture saith.

    [Footnote 88: This is hardly warranted by fact. See Mark xii.
    42; Luke xi. 27; Luke xxiv. 22.]


      A fellow once said      [12.]
      He would ne're keep his Bed,
  Though sick, I heard him to tell it,
      And his Reason was,
      Nay I know the Cause,
  For he still had a mind to Sell it.


[26.] A great _German_ Prince, that was much addicted to Drinking, had
drank so much one day, that the next he was very sick; then his Fool
came in to him and askt him, why he was so melancholly? he told him
his Sickness was occasion'd by drinking yesterday: Why then, says the
Fool, if that be all, I'll be your Physician; that is, if you are ill
with drinking one day, take a Hare of the same Dog. Well, says the
Prince, and what the second day? The Fool told him the same again:
And what the third day? the same too. And what at the fourth? Why the
same. We'll come to the purpose, says he, and what the fifth day? Why
Faith, says he, then you'll be as arrant a Fool as I am.



Mercurius Matrimonialis

or

Chapmen for the Ladies lately Offered to Sale by Way of Auction.

(procured by one of their own Sex)


    1. A Country Gentleman, who has a very delicate Seat [62.]
    between 20 and 30 Miles off _London_, and a very considerable
    Estate, a very Proper Comely Person, but not very Witty.

    2. A Linnen Draper near the Stocks _Market_, a very handsome
    Genteel Man.

    3. A Milliner on the _Royal Exchange_, much admired for his
    Handsomness and Gentility.

    4. A Clergyman near _Exeter_, but now in Town, a pretty Black
    Man, a very good Scholar, proposes for a Joynture £200 per
    Ann. in Free-land.

    5. A Bookseller near the _Exchange_ a very Sober Man, a Man of
    a Good Trade, besides some Estate.

    6. A Linnen Drapers Son in _Cornhill_, a very pretty genteel
    Man, his Father a Man of a very good Estate.

    7. A Goldsmith behind the _Exchange_--so, so.--

    8. A Miliner in _Cheapside_, near the end of _Bread Street_,
    very genteel but no conjurer.

    9. For the Brewers Daughter, a Lace Man in _Pater Noster Row_,
    who loves the smell of Malt and good Ale, of good heighth and
    Stature, and Stomach answerable.

    10. A Coffee Man, well lin'd with Broad Pieces of Gold, and
    has a good Trade, a Widdower, wants a Bar keeper.

    11. A lusty, stout proportion'd Man, had a good Estate before
    the Fire,[F. 89] and is still fit for Woman's Service.

    12. A Bookseller's Son in _Paul's Church yard_, an extream
    Genteel man, and of the same kidney as the Mercer in _Covent
    Garden_.

    13. A Commission Officer, full of Courage, brim full of
    Honour, a well proportion'd Man, and very beautiful and yet
    wants Money.

    14. An Apothecary near _Bread Street Hill_, a very genteel
    Man, a Widdower.

    15. A Young Gentleman now learning to Dance, wants a Wife to
    guide him, his Estate £150 per Ann.

    16. A Haberdasher's Son in _Cheapside_, makes a great Figure
    in the World, his Education good, only wants a Wife, or Place.

    17. A diminutive Bookseller, very difficult in his Choice,
    £5000 proves a Temptation to him.

    18. A Mercer upon _Ludgate Hill_, Kin to a good Estate, his
    Trade indifferent:

    19. A young Merchant, whose Estate lyes on the _Carriby
    Islands_, if his Cargo misses the _French Fleet_, he makes a
    good Joynture.

    20. An Ancient Gentleman now purchasing an Estate, wants a
    rich Wife to stand by him.

    21. A Goldsmith near the _Royal Exchange_, a Widdower, of a
    very considerable Estate, besides a great Trade, will make
    a good Joynture, and perhaps keep a Coach, he's a very brisk
    Man.

    [Footnote 89: Although this "squib" is not dated, this
    allusion makes it probable it was written in Charles II.'s
    time.]


  One Climbing of a Tree, by hap,      [51.]
  Fell downe and brake his arme,
  And did complaine unto a friend,
  Of his unluckie harme.
  Would I had counsel'd you before,
  (quoth he to whom he spake)
  I know a tricke for Climbers, that
  They never hurt shall take.
  Neighbour (sayd he) I have a Sonne,
  And he doth use to climbe,
  Pray let me know the same for him
  Against another time?
  Why thus, (quoth he) let any man
  That lives, climbe nere so hie,
  And make no more haste downe, than up,
  No harme can come thereby.


[61.] A Gentleman who had constantly beene a good fellow, meeting with
some of his friends at a mornings draught, told his Companions that,
God forgive him, _he went to bed like a beast_ last night. Why? quoth
they, were you so _drunk_? No, quoth he, _I was so sober_.



SELDOME CLEANELY[F. 90]

or

  A merry new Ditty, wherein you may see,
  The tricke of a Huswife, in every degree.
  Then lend your attention while I doe unfold
  As pleasant a story as you have heard told.

To the Tune of _Upon a Summers time_.

  Draw neere you Countrey Girles      [63.]
    and lissen unto me,
  Ile tell you here a new conceit
    concerning Huswifery,
    concerning Huswifery.

  Three Aunts I had of late,
    good Huswifes all were they,
  But cruell death hath taken
    the best of them away,
    O the best &c--

  O this was one of my Aunts,
    the best of all the three,
  And surely though I say it myselfe
    a cleanly woman was she,
    a cleanly &c.

[Illustration]

  My Uncle carelesse was
    in wasting of his store,
  Which made my Aunt to have a care
    to looke about the more,
    to looke &c--

  When Winter time drew on
    neere to All hollow day:
  My Aunt did cast her wits about
    to save her Straw and Hay.
    _to save &c_--

  And like a provident woman,
    as plainely did apeare,
  She starv'd her Bullockes to save her Hay,
    untill another yeare.
  _O this was one of my Aunts,
    the best of all the three
  And surely, though I say't myselfe
    a provident woman was shee._

  But as she went to see
    her cattell in the fields:
  When she comes home, two pound of durt
    hang dragling at her heeles.
  _O this &c_

  And there she let it hang
    from Candlemas to May,
  And then shee tooke a hatchet in hand,
    and chopt it cleane away.
  _O this &c_

  In making of a cheese
    my Aunt shewed her cunning,
  Such perfit skill shee had at will,
    shee never used running.[F. 91]
  _O this &c_

  For having strain'd her milke
    in turning once about,
  Shee had the best Curd that ever you saw
    by the sent[F. 92] of the strayning clout.
  _O this &c_

  Shee was the choysest Nurse
    that lived in all the West;
  Her face was white as the charcoal flower
    so was her neck and brest.
  _O this was one of my Aunts_,
    _the best of all the three_,
  _And surely, though I say't myselfe_,
    _a cleanly good Nurse was shee_.

  The garments which she did weare
    did shine like the brazen Crock,
  And where she went, she bore such a sent
    that the flyes blew in her frock.
  _O this &c_

  My Aunt so curious was,
    as I to you may tell,
  She used to make fat puddings
    in markets for to sell.
  _O this &c_

  The smallest Candle end
    my Aunt would never lose
  It would helpe to make her puddings fat
    with the droppings of her nose.
  _O this &c_

  Another trick she had
    as I shall now declare,
  Shee never swept the house,
    about foure times a yeare.
  _O this &c_

  And when she swept the Hall,
    the Parler or the Spence,
  The dust was worth to her at least,
    a shilling or 14 pence.
  _O this &c_

  One day my Aunt was set
    by the fier side a spinning,
  As she knew well what was to do
    to wollen or to linnen.
  _O this &c_

  A change came in her minde,
    her worke being in great hast,
  She burn'd her Tow, her Wheele and all
    because she would make no wast.
  _O this &c_

  My Aunt so patient was
    of this I dare be bold,
  That with her Neighbours shee
    was never knowne to scolde.
  _O this &c_

  Her lips with lothsome words
    she seldome would defile,
  But sometimes she would whisper so loud
    you might heare her half a mile
  _O this &c_

  Yet one condition more
    unto you I will show,
  Shee washt her dishes once a moneth,
    and set them on a row.
  _O this &c_

  If other wise she had
    but of a dish clout faile,
  She would set them to the Dog to lick
    and wipe them with his tayle.
  _O this &c_

  But to conclude in hast,
    I hold it not amisse,
  I love a cleanly huswife well
    as may appeare by this.
  _O this was one of my Aunts_
    _the best of all the three_,
  _And surely, though I say't myselfe_,
    _a cleanely woman was she_.
                                      L. P[F. 93]

FINIS.

London. Printed for John Wright _junior_,[F. 94] dwelling at the upper
end of the Old Baily.

    [Footnote 90: For tune, see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 91: Rennet.]

    [Footnote 92: Scent.]


[Illustration]

Astrology (in the middle of the seventeenth century) was beginning to
fall into disrepute, and Butler, in _Hudibras_, as well as Ben Jonson
in _The Alchemist_, satirised unmercifully both the science and its
professors. The accompanying engraving "The Astrologer's Bugg Beare"
refers to an eclipse of the sun, an event, which even at that time was
considered of dire portent. Take the title of one tract as a sample.
[F. 95]"The Shepherds Prognostication, Foretelling the sad and strange
Eclipse of the Sun, which will happen on the 29 of March this present
year 1652. which Eclipse will begin about eight of the Clock in the
fore noon, and so continue till past the hour of eleven, which will
be the dismallest day that ever was known since the year 33, when our
Savior Christ suffered on the Crosse for the sins of Mankind, at which
time the Seas did roare, the earth did quake, the graves did open, the
temple rent from the top to the bottom, _Luke_ 23. 45. And there was
a darknesse over all the Land. This Prediction also foretells of many
strange Presages and Passages which will follow after that horrible
Eclipse of the Sun, and what will insue. With a perfect way whereby
to avoid the insuing danger. By L. P." (? Laurence Price.) And the
contents of the tract fully bears out its title.

But "L. P.," whoever he was, entered thoroughly into the joke of the
thing, and, when it was all over, wrote a book, teeming with quiet
satire, which was published on 9th April 1652, called--



The Astrologer's Bugg Beare.


[64.] In his little tract he chaffs the people most unmercifully,
yet very quietly, at times so much so that one might almost think it
written in earnest. For instance: "A Usurer that was to receive money
of a country man that was his debter on that day, durst not to venter
fourth of his house; by which meanes the man rid forth out of London
and paid not in his moneyes, for which cause the Usurer was about to
cut his own throat, and had don it, if he had not bin prevented by
some of his Neighboures.

Some other Christians were so fearefull of what would befall, that
they sent their maids two dayes before Black monday for to fetch in
faire water in a redynesse to wash, fearing that the ayre would infect
the water.

Some tooke Medicines, Pils, and Antidotes, which was administred unto
them by a supposed out landish doctor, which he had set bils for
in severall places, caling his Medicines, an Antidote against the
tirrible Eclipes of the Sun, so he got money, and they went away as
wise as woodcockes."

Ben Jonson, in "The Alchemist" gives a very vivid and amusing
picture of an astrologer and his gull. Act 1, Scene 3. Subtle (the
astrologer), Face (his agent), Drugger (a tobacconist).


  _Subtle._ What is your name, say you, _Abel Drugger_?      [65.]

  _Drugger._                                            Yes Sir,

  _Sub._ A Seller of _Tobacco_?

  _Dru._                        Yes, Sir

  _Sub._                                  'Umh,
      Free of the Grocers?[F. 96]

  _Dru._                        I, and't please you.

  _Sub._                                             Well,
      Your business _Abel_?

  _Dru._                This, and't please your Worship,
  I am a yong beginner, and am building
  Of a new shop, and't like your worship, just
  At Corner of a Street: (Here's the plot on't.)
  And I would know, by art, Sir, of your Worship,
  Which way I should make my dore, by _Necromancie_.
  And where my Shelves. And which should be for Boxes,
  And which for Potts. I would be glad to thrive, Sir,
  And, I was wish'd to your Worship by a Gentleman,
  One Captaine _Face_, that say's you know mens _Planets_,
  And their good _Angels_, and their bad.

  _Sub._                                  I doe
      If I do see 'hem.[F. 97]

  _Face._          What! my honest _Abel_?
      Thou art well met here.

  _Dru._              Troth, Sir, I was speaking
  Just as your Worship came here, of your Worship.
  I pray you, speake for me to M^r Doctor.

  _Face._ He shall doe anything. Doctor, doe you heare?
  This is my friend, _Abel_, an honest fellow.

       *       *       *       *       *

  _Sub._ H'is a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on.

  _Face._ Already, Sir, ha' you found it? Lo' the _Abel_!

  _Sub._ And in right way to'ward riches.

  _Face._                                  Sir!

  _Sub._                                        This Summer
  He will be of the Clothing[F. 98] of his Company.
  And, next spring, call'd to the Scarlet.[F. 99] Spend what he can.

  _Face._ What, and so little Beard?

  _Sub._                             Sir, you must thinke,
  He may have a receipt to make hayre come.
  But he'll be wise, preserve his youth, and fine[F. 100] for't.
  His fortune lookes for him, another way.

  _Face._ 'Slid, Doctor, how canst thou know this so soone?
  I am amus'd at that!

  _Sub._                  By a rule, Captayne
  In _Metaposcopie_ which I doe worke by,
  A certaine Starre i' the forehead, which you see not.
  Your Chest-nut, or your Olive colourd face
  Do's never fayle; and your long Eare doth promise.
  I knew't, by certaine spotts too, in his teeth,
  And on the nayle of his _Mercurial_ finger.

  _Face._ Which finger's that?

  _Sub._                      His little finger, Looke.
  Yo' were borne upon a Wensday.

  _Drug._                    Yes, indeed, Sir.

  _Sub._ The Thumbe, in _Chiromantie_, we give _Venus_;
  The Fore-finger to _Iove_; the Midst, to _Saturne_;
  The Ring to _Sol_, the Least to Mercurie,
  Who was the Lord, Sir, of his _Horoscope_,
  His _House of Life_ being _Libra_. Which foreshew'd
  He should be a Marchant, and should trade with Ballance.

  _Face._ Why, this is strange! Is't not, honest _Nab_?

  _Sub._ There is a Ship now, comming from Ormu's,
  That shall yeeld him such a Commoditie
  Of Drugs. This is the West, and this the South?

  _Drug._ Yes Sir.

  _Sub._            And those are your two sides!

  _Drug._                                        I, Sir.

  _Sub._ Make me your Dore, then, South; your broad side, West;
  And, on the East-side of your shop, aloft,
  Write _Mathlaj_, _Tarmiel_, and _Baraborat_;
  Upon the North-part _Rael_, _Velel_, _Thiel_,
  These are the names of those _Mercurian_ Spirits,
  That doe fright flyes from boxes.

  _Drug._                      Yes Sir,

  _Sub._                                And
  Beneath your threshold, bury me a Loade stone
  To draw in Gallants that weare spurres; The rest
  Theyll seeme to follow.

In this play, too, Alchemy is scarified, as is also the Puritanism of
the age.

    [Footnote 93: ? Laurence Price.]

    [Footnote 94: He published from 1641 to 1683.]

    [Footnote 95: Brit. Mus. Cat. (E. 1351.)/1]

    [Footnote 96: Company.]

    [Footnote 97: A play upon the word. Subtle meaning the gold
    coin called an Angel, value 10s.]

    [Footnote 98: _i.e._ be made a liveryman.]

    [Footnote 99: Made sheriff.]

    [Footnote 100: Pay the penalty instead of serving.]


      A very drunken Sot      [12.]
      The Hickock had got,
  Cause he drank _Rosa Solis_ and _Aqua Vitæ_;
      Such Latine drink that he
      Declines _Hic_, _Hoc_, very free,
  But such English words as wou'd fright ye.


[52.] A poore man travelling from door to door a begging, being lately
come from _Paris_, a City in _France_, being invited by hunger to a
good simple Country Swain's doore, to aske his almes; his wife asked
him what he was, and from whence he came? Quoth the fellow, from
_Paris_. From _Paradise_ (quoth she) then thou knowest my old _John_
there (meaning her former husband) I, quoth the fellow, that I doe. I
pray thee (quoth she) how doth he doe? Faith (quoth the fellow) poore,
he hath meat and drinke enough, but wants cloathes and mony. Alas,
quoth she, I am sory for it, I pray thee stay a little; and, running
up into her Chamber, fetcht downe her husbands new sute of cloathes,
and five shillings in mony, and gave it to the fellow, saying, I
pray thee remember me to my poore _John_, and give him this sute of
clothes, and five shillings from me, and wrapt them up in a
Fardle,[F. 101] which the fellow took, and away he went. Presently her
husband came home, and found her very pleasant and merry, singing up
and downe the house, which she seldome used to doe, and he asked her
the cause, Oh, husband, quoth she, I have heard from my old _John_
to-day, he is in Paradise, and is very well, but wants clothes and
mony, but I have sent him thy best sute, and five shillings in mony.
Her husband seeing she was cozened, enquired of her which way the
fellow went that had them. Yonder way, quoth she: he presently took
his best horse, Hob, and rode after him for the clothes. The fellow
seeing one ride so fast after him, threw the clothes into a ditch,
and went softly forward; her husband overtaking the fellow, said,
Didst not see one go this way with a little fardle of clothes at
his back? Yes, quoth the fellow, he is newly gone into yonder little
Wood. Oh, hold my horse, quoth he, whilst I runne in and finde him
out. I will, quoth the fellow, who presently, as soon as he was gone
into the wood, took up his fardell, leapt on horseback, and away he
went: The Man returning for his horse, his horse was gone; then
going home to his wife, she asked him if he overtook the fellow. I,
sweet heart, quoth he, and I have lent him my best horse to ride on,
for it is a great long way to Paradise. Truly, husband, quoth she,
and I shall love thee the better so long as I live, for making so
much of my old _John_. Which caused much good laughter to all that
heard it.

    [Footnote 101: A bundle.]


  Tom vow'd to beat his boy against the wall,      [5.]
  And as he strucke, he forth-with caught a fall:
  The boy deriding said, I doe averre,
  Y'have done a thing, you cannot stand to, Sir.


[32.] What is that goeth about the wood and cannot get in?

_Solution._ It is the bark of a tree, for never is the bark within the
tree, but alwayes without.



The country-mans lamentation for the death of his _cow_.

  A Country Swain, of little wit, one day,
  Did kill his Cow, because she went astray:
  What's that to I or You, she was his own,
  But now the Ass for his Cow doth moan:
  Most piteously methink he cries in vain,
  For now his Cow's free from hunger and pain:
  What ails the fool to make so great a stir,
  She cannot come to him, he may to her.

To a pleasant Country Tune, called _Colly my Cow_.

[Illustration]


  Little _Tom Dogget_      [66.]
    what dost thou mean,
  To kill thy poor Colly,
    now she's so lean:
  _Sing Oh poor Colly_,
    _Colly my Cow_,
  _For Colly will give me_
    _no more milk now_.

  Pruh high, pruh hoe,
  Pruh high, pruh, hoe,
  Pruh, Pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh, pruh,
  Tal lal daw.

  I had better have kept her,
    till fatter she had been,
  For now I confess,
    she's a little too lean:
  _Sing Oh &c_--

  First in comes the Tanner,
    with his Sword by his side,
  And he bids me five Shillings,
    for my Cow's Hide:
  _Sing Oh &c_

  Then in comes the Tallow Chandler,
    whose brains were but shallow,
  And he bids me two and Six-pence,
    for my Cows Tallow:
  _Sing Oh &c_

  Then in comes the Huntsman
    so early in the Morn,
  He bid me a Penny
    for my Cow's horn:
  _Sing Oh &c_

  Then in comes the Tripe-Woman
    so fine and so neat,
  She bid me three halfpence
    for my Cow's feet;
  _Sing Oh &c_--

  Then in comes the Butcher
    that nimble tongu'd Youth
  Who said she was Carrion,
    but he spoke not the truth:
  _Sing Oh &c_

  This Cow had a Skin
    was as soft as the silk,
  And three times a day
    my poor Cow would give Milk:
  _Sing Oh &c_--

  She every year
    a fine Calf me did bring,
  Which fetcht me a pound,
    for it came in the spring:
  _Sing Oh &c_

  But now I have kill'd her,
    I can't her recall,
  I will sell my poor Colly,
    hide, horns and all:
  _Sing Oh &c_

  The Butcher shall have her,
    though he gives but a pound;
  And he knows in his heart
    that my Colly was sound;
  _Sing Oh &c_

  And when he has bought her,
    let him sell all together,
  The flesh for to eat,
    and the hide for leather:
  _Sing Oh &c_--

FINIS.

Printed for C. Passinger, at the seven stars in the New Buildings on
London-bridge--


[17.] A Miser having a sheep stolen from him, by a poor man, would
needs send him to Prison, saying there was not so damn'd a Rogue in
the World; Pray, Sir, said he, _remember yourself, and be good to
me_--


    A Glass, when a G      [12.]
    Is took away, I.C.
  Is a Lass, I mean of the Game,
    Put L too away,
    What is't then, I pray,
  Why, an Ass, and you are the same.


[4.] A Nobleman having a mind to be merry, sent for his Chaplain, and
told him, That, unless he could resolve him these three Questions, he
should be discarded, and turn'd out of his Service; but if he cou'd,
he shou'd have Thirty Guinneys, and the best Horse in his Stable;
So he propos'd the Questions to him, which were these; _First, what
compass the World was about?_ _Secondly, How deep the Sea was?_
_And Thirdly, What he thought?_ The Poor Chaplain was in a peck
of Troubles, and did not know how to answer them, or what to say,
thinking them very unreasonable Questions; so that all he could do was
to desire a little time to consider upon them, which the Earl granted.
So he going along the Fields one day very melancholy, a Cobler of
the Town, a Merry Fellow (who was very like the Chaplain, both in
Physiognomy and Stature) met him, and ask'd him the reason of his
sadness; which with some Reluctancy he told him: O Sir, says the
Cobler, don't be dejected, chear up; I've thought of a device to save
your Place, and get you the Money and Horse too; but you shall give
me Ten Guinneys for my pains. So he agreed to't; and it was thus:
Says he, I'll put on your Cloaths, and go to My Lord, and answer
his Questions. Accordingly he went, and when he came before him, he
answer'd him thus: To the first Question, _What Compass the World was
about?_ He answered, _It was four and twenty hours Journey; and if a
man could keep pace with the Sun, he could easily go it in that time._
To the Second, _How deep the Sea was?_ He answer'd _Only a stone's
throw; for cast it into the deepest place of it, and in time it will
come to the bottom._ To the third (which I fancy your Lordship thinks
the most difficult to be resolv'd, but is indeed the easiest) which
is; _What your Lordship thinks?_ I answer, _That you think I am your
Chaplain, when as indeed I am but the Cobler of Gloucester._ The
Nobleman was so pleas'd with his witty Answers, that he perform'd
his Promise to his Chaplain, and gave the Cobler Ten Guinneys for his
Ingenuity.


  An aged Gentleman sore sick did lie,      [51.]
  Expecting life, that could not chuse but die:
  His Foole came to him, and intreated thus.
  Good Maister, ere you goe away from us,
  Bestowe on _Jacke_ (that oft hath made you laffe)
  Against he waxeth old, your Walking-Staffe,--
  I will, (quoth he) goe take it, there it is:
  But on condition, _Jacke_, which shall be this,
  If thou doe meete with any while thou live,
  More foole than thou, the Staffe thou shalt him give.
  Maister, (sayd he) upon my life I will;
  But I doe hope that I shall keepe it still.
  When Death drew neere, and faintness did proceed,
  His Maister called for a Devine with speed,
  For to prepare him unto Heaven's way.
  The Foole starts up, and hastily did say,
  Oh Maister, Maister, take your Staffe againe,
  That proove your selfe the most Foole of us twaine;
  Have you now liv'd some foure-score yeares and odd,
  And all this time, are unprepared for God:
  What greater Foole can any meete withall,
  Than one that's ready in the Grave to fall,
  And is to seeke about his soules estate,
  When Death is op'ning of the Prison Gate?
  Beare Witnesse friends, that I discharge me plaine;
  Heere Maister, heere, receive your Staffe againe:
  Upon the same condition I did take it,
  According as you will'd me, I forsake it:
  And over and above, I will bestow,
  This Epitaph, which shall your folly show.
        _Heere lyes a man, at death did Heaven clayme_,
        _But in his life, he never sought the same_.


[26.] A Lady in this Kingdom hearing that a Lady, that was a Person of
Quality, did much long for Oysters, she then sent a Foot-man of hers,
that was an _Irish_ Man, to the said Lady with a Barrel of Oysters,
and as he was going, he met an Arch Wag by the way, who askt him
whither he was going? Then he told him: "O. _Donniel_, says he, you
must gut them before you go, or else they will Poyson the Lady; I
Predde,[F. 102] says he, show me how to do it. So the Fellow took
them and opened them, and took out all the Oysters and put them into
a Wooden Dish that was by, and then put all the Shells again into
the Barrell: _Now_, says he, _you may carry them, for they are all
gutted_: _E. Fait_,[F. 103] said _Donniel_, _for this kindness, I'll
give thee a pint of Wine out of the Vails that I shall have of my
Lady_: but I know not how they were accepted.

    [Footnote 102: Ay, prithee.]

    [Footnote 103: I'faith.]


      A man found his Wife      [12.]
      To be idle all her Life,
  Then he beat her very sore;
      I did nothing, says she,
      I know it, says he,
  Which makes me to beat you therefore.


[32.] What is that no man would have, and yet when he hath it, will
not forgoe it?

_Solution._ It is a broken head, or such like, for no man would gladly
have a broken head, and yet when he hath it, he would be loth to loose
his head, though it be broken.


  To be indebted is a shame men say      [5.]
  Then 'tis confessing of a shame to pay.


_On a certaine present sent from an Archbishop to his friend._

  Mittitur in Disco, mihi Piscis ab Archiepisco      [67.]
  Po non ponetur, quia potum non mihi detur.

_Englished thus._

  There was in a dish, sent me a fish, from an Arch bish
  Hop I will not put heere, because hee sent me noe beere.



NEWES FROM _MORE-LANE_.

or

A mad, knavish, and uncivil Frolick of a Tapster dwelling there, who
buying a fat Coult for Eighteen pence, the Mare being dead and he not
knowing how to bring the Coult up by hand, killed it, and had it
baked in a Pastie, and invited many of his Neighbours to the Feast and
telling of them what it was: the Conceit thereof made them all Sick,
as by the following ditty you shall hear.

  The Tapster fil'd the Cup up to the brim,
  And all to make the little Coult to swim;
  But all that heares it sayes that for his gaine,
  He is no better than a Wagg in graine.


The Tune is, _A Health to the best of Men_.

  There is a Tapster in _More lane_      [68.]
    that did a Pasty make,
  All People doe of him complaine,
    now for his grosse mistake:
  Hee instead of Venson fine
    a good fat Coult did kill,
  And put in store of Clarret Wine,
    his humour to fullfill.

  A Peck of Flower at the least,
    with six pound of Butter,
  Hee made his Nighbours such a Feast
    and bid them all to supper:
  A curious fine fat Colt it was,
    and handled daintily:
  The Tapster prov'd himself an Asse,
    for this his knavery.

  Likewise there was a Baker too,
    that lived in that place,
  And he was a pertaker too,
    I speak in his disgrace:
  For he found Flower to make it,
    I speak not in his praise,
  And afterwards did bake it,
    his knavery for to raise.

[Illustration]

  Likewise there was a Carman too
    and he found Butter for it,
  But when the Knavery Neighbours knew
    they could not but abhor it;
  And then there was a Cooke, Sir,
    at _More gate_ doth he dwell,
  And he then under tooke, Sir,
    to make the Pasty well.

  Some say it eate as mellow then
    as any little chick,
  But I tell thee, good-fellow; then
    it made the Neighbours sick:
  The Tapster had his humour,
    but the Neighbours had the worst,
  Yet I doe hear they had good Beere
    and dainty Pastry crust.

  Then every joviall Blade, Sir,
    that lived in that place,
  Their Money freely paid, Sir,
    they scorned to be bace:
  They cal'd for Beere, likewise for Ale
    because the Coult should swim,
  And of the Cup they would not faile,
    but fil'd it to the brim.

  The Car-mans Wife cry'd out and said
    troath 'tis good Meat indeed,
  So likewise said the Chamber-maid,
    when she on it did feed.
  The Tapster bid them welcome then,
    and Wea-Hae did he cry
  You are all welcome, Gentlemen,
    you'r welcome hartily.

  The Glover's Wife was in a heat,
    and did both pout and mump,
  Because they would not let her eat
    the Buttock and the Rump.
  As for the merry Weaver's Wife,
    I will give her her due,
  She spent her Coyne to end the strife
    among that joviall Crew.

  This Colt was not so wholsome though
    as was a good fat Hogg,
  Yet one came in and told the crew
    it was a mangie Dogg!
  But he that told them was to blame,
    and was but a silly Dolt,
  The Tapster bid him peace for Shame
    for 'twas a good fat Colt.

  The Colt he cost me eighteen pence,
    the Tapster he did say,
  I hope good Folks 'ere you goe hence,
    you for your Meate will pay.
  Pox take you for a Rogue quoth one,
    another, he fel'd oaks,
  Another said he was undone!
    'twas worse than Harty Choaks.

  The Porter he did give nine pence
    to have it in a Pye,
  The People ere they went from thence
    did feed most hartily:
  It was the joviall Baker,
    and knavish Tapster too,
  The Car-man was pertaker
    was not this a Joviall crew.

  The Potecary he was there,
    _Farr_ and the Sexton too,
  The Tapster put them in great fear,
    he made them for to spue.
  Now was not this a knave ingrain,
    to use his Neighbours so,
  When knaves are scarce, hee'l go for twain,
    good People, what think you.

  The Tapster he came in at last,
    and gave the People vomits,
  I hope, (quoth he,) the worst is past,
    I have eased your foule Stomacks;
  Wea-hea cry'd the Tapster then,
    how doe you like my sport,
  The Women said, so did the Men,
    the Devill take you for't.

  At _Brainford_ as I heard some say
    a mangie Dog was eate:
  This was not halfe so bad as that,
    and yet the fault was great:
  Men of good fashon then was there
    that went both fine and brave
  Now all do say, that this doth heare,
    the Tapster is a knave.

FINIS.

_London_, Printed for _William Gammon_, and to be sould in
_Smithfield_.


[61.] There fell a great dispute betwixt _Jockey_ a _Scotchman_,
and _Jenkin_ a _Welch man_, and the subject of it was about the
fruitfullnesse of their Countries, and thus _Jockey_ began. There
was not a braver, fruitfuller Country in the world than _Leith_ in
_Scotland_: The _Welch man_ answered him again, Picot, that was false,
for there was no place so full of all sorts of fruite, as was in
Wales. _Jockey_ replyed again, that he knew a piece of ground in
_Scotland_ where the grass grew up so suddenly that if you throw a
Staff in it over night, in that time the pasture would so over grow
it, that you could not see it again the next morning. But _Jenkin_
hearing this, with a great Scorne made him this answer, Py _Saint
Taffe_ that the throwing so small a thing as a Staff was nothing, for
(quoth _Shinkin_) we have divers pieces of Cround in our Contry, that
if you turn your Horse into them, you shall not see him next Morning.


      Why do Men not agree      [12.]
      With their Wives now we see
  Men now are more Learn'd, and do brawl;
      Tis false Concord we see
      For the Masculine to agree
  With the Feminine Gender at all.


[26.] Says a Fellow that had lost one of his Ears at _Newcastle_, for
no goodness 'tis thought; when one told him a Story, 'Tis in at one
ear and out at t'other. By my truth, says the other, then there's a
great deal of wonder in the travel of these Tales, for thy two Ears be
two hundred Miles asunder.


[52.] A Certaine Gentleman in Lincolneshire, being also a Justice of
Peace, had an old servant many yeares called _Adam Milford_, who upon
a time came unto his Master, and desired him, in regard that he had
been his servant so many yeares, hee would now give him somthing to
help him in his old age. Thou sayest true, quoth his Master, and I
will tell thee what I will doe. Now shortly am I to ride up to London;
if thou wilt pay my costs & charges by the way, I will give thee, ere
long, such a thing as shall be worth to thee an hundred pounds. I am
content, quoth _Adam_, and so payed for all their reckoning by the
way. Being come to London, hee put his Master in mind of his former
promise that he had made to him. What did I promise thee anything?
Yes, quoth _Adam_, that you did; for you said you would give me
that which should be worth to me an hundred pounds, for bearing your
Charges to London. Let me see your writing, quoth his Master. I have
none, quoth _Adam_. Then thou art like to have nothing, quoth his
Master; And learne this of me, that when thou makest a bargain with
any man, looke thou take a Writing, and beware how thou makest a
Writing to any man. This hath availed me an hundred pounds in my
dayes. When _Adam_ saw there was no remedy, he was content; but when
they should depart _Adam_ stayed behind his Master to reckon with his
Hostis, and on his Masters Scarlet cloake borrowed so much mony, as
came to all their charges he had laid out by the way. His Master had
not ridden past two miles, but it began to raine apace: wherefore
he called for his cloake. His other men made answer that _Adam_ was
behinde, and had it with him. So they shrowded them under a tree, till
_Adam_ came. When he came, his Master said all angerly, Thou knave,
come give me my cloak: hast thou not served me well, to let me be thus
wet? Truely, Sir, (quoth _Adam_) I have laid it to pawne for all your
charges by the way. Why, knave, quoth he, didst thou not promise me
to beare my charges to London? Did I? quoth Adam; I, quoth his Master,
that thou didst. Let's see, shew me your writing of it, quoth _Adam_.
Whereupon, his Master perceiving he was over-reacht by his man, was
fain to send for his cloak againe, and pay the money.


There was a singular mania in this century for chronograms, or making
up dates out of words, which will be best explained in the annexed
example. Jas. Hilton, Esq., has by dint of vast trouble and research,
been enabled to collect a large quantity of these, and his
book[F. 104] (of which only a very limited number were printed) will
well repay the perusal of the curious.

  Chronogramma.   Anno 1628.   obiit
  _Georg_IV_s_ DVX _B_VC_k_I_ngha_MI_æ_

  Malignant characters that did portend      [67.]
  Duke-murthering Fate & his untimely end,
  Constrain'd to die, that would have liv'd & fought
  Xantippus like, but that fell Felton brought
  Vncertaine quick[F. 105] to a certaine end.
  Vaine are designes, where one doth of his freind
  Vsurpe too much, him you doe countermine
  In breife the world applaudes this last designe.
  It was his death, but now hee's dead & gone
  Ill having heard of many, _felt_ but _one_.

The date 1628 can be easily made by adding the Roman numerals, which
are represented by the capital letters.

    [Footnote 104: Brit. Mus. Catalogue, 11905, a. a. 8. Hilton,
    Jas., Chronograms; Lond., 1882, 8vo.]

    [Footnote 105: Life.]


  All things have savour, though some very small,      [5.]
  Nay, a box on the eare hath no smell at all.


[17.] One having a scoulding Wife, swore he would drown himself. She
followed him desiring him to forbear, or at least to let her speak
with him. Speak quickly then, says he: Pray Husband, if you will needs
drown your self, take my counsel to goe into a deep place; for it
would grieve my heart to see you long a dying; with that the Fellow
came back again and went to the Indies.


[52.] _Coomes_ of _Stapforth_ hearing that his wife was drowned
comming from market went with certaine of his friends to see if they
could finde her in the River; he, contrary to all the rest, sought his
wife against the streame: which, they perceiving, said, He lookt the
wrong way. And why so? (quoth he) Because (quoth they) you should look
down the streame, and not against it. Nay (quoth he) I shall never
finde her that way: for she did all things so Contrary in her
lifetime, that now she is dead, I am sure she will goe against the
streame.


    I've known many men    [12.]
      Know each other now and then
  Yet never the knowledge could get
      Of any Man before
      Though known many a score,
  That ever knew himself yet.


[4.] Doctor _Fuller_ overtook one M^r _Woodcock_ upon the Road,
falling into Discourse in a facetious manner, ask'd him what
difference there was between a Woodcock and an Owl, (supposing Mr
_Woodcock_ had not known him). He wittily replyed, _That an Owl was
Fuller in the Head, Fuller in the Face, Fuller in the Eyes, Fuller in
the Neck, and Fuller all over_.


_On Anne Angel marrying a Lawyer._

  Anne is an Angel, but what if she bee.      [67.]
  What is an Angel, but a Lawyer's fee.


  A Welchman walking in y^e darke for feare      [67.]
  Some wall might hitte his face a box o' th' eare,
  Strecht out his armes, y^t if such danger Came,
  His hands might from his face avert y^e same.
  At last betwixt his armes there came a post,
  Which hitte his nose, and stroke him downe almost;
  Pluter of nayles, quoth he, I did not know
  My nose was longer than my armes till now.


The accompanying illustration is taken for its quaintness and as an
example of caricature, the tract itself hardly repaying perusal.

    No-Body--_Why do'st thou father all thy Lies_      [69.]
             _On Me? heaping Indignities_
             _On one that never injur'd thee?_

  Some-Body--_My Words and Acts hurt_ No-Body:

    No-Body--Som-Body _hath belied me much_,
             No-Body _sure hath cause to grutch_.

[Illustration: SomeBody | NoBody]


[52.] A certain rich Farmer having lain long sick in Norfolk, at last
sent for a Physitian from the next Market Towne: who when he came, he
felt his pulses, and viewed his water, & then told them, That he could
by no means, nor physick escape, the disease had so much power in his
body, and so went his way. Within a while after, by God's good help
(who is the only giver of all health) the man escaped and was well
againe, and walking abroad, being still very weak and feeble, he met
with his Physitian, who, being very sore afraid to see him, asks him,
if he were not such a Farmer; Yes, truely (quoth he) I am: Art thou
alive or dead? (quoth he) Dead (quoth he) I am; and because I have
experience of many things, God hath sent me to take up all Physitians
I can get: which made the Physitian quiver and quake, and looke as
pale as ashes for feare. Nay feare not quoth the Farmer, though I
named all the Physitians, yet I meant thee for none: for I am sure a
verier dunce lives not this day, than thou art: and then I should be a
foole to take thee for one, that art more fit to give dogges physicke
than men, and so he left him: but the Physitian never left quaking
till he was out of his Patients Sight.


_To my Booke-seller._

  Thou that mak'st gaine thy end, and wisely well,      [70.]
    Call'st a booke good, or bad, as it doth sell,
  Use mine so, too; I give thee leave. But crave
    For the luck's sake, it this much favour have.
  To lye upon thy stall, till it be sought;
    Not offer'd, as it made sute to be bought;
  Nor have my title-leafe on posts, or walls,
    Or in cleft-sticks, advanced to make calls
  For termers,[F. 106] or some clarke-like serving-man,
    Who scarse can spell th' hard names; whose knight lesse can.
  If, without these vile arts, it will not sell,
    Send it to _Bucklers-bury_,[F. 107] there 'twill, well.

    [Footnote 106: Nares defines thus, "TERMER, a person, whether
    male or female, who resorted to London in term time only, for
    the sake of tricks to be practised or intrigues to be carried
    on at that period;" as in _Decker's Belman_, "Some of these
    boothalers are called _termers_, and they ply Westminster
    Hall; Michaelmas term is their harvest, and they sweat in
    it harder than reapers doe at their works in the heat of
    summer."]

    [Footnote 107: To wrap up spices or drugs. We should now say,
    "Send it to the butterman."]


[61.] Two gentlemen met upon the Road, betwixt _Ware_ and _London_,
the one was a wild young Gallant who had more means than Manners, the
other a very grave discreet and temperate Citizen of _London_; who
considering his own yeares, conceived that the younger man would give
him the way, and by continuing his speed resolved to trye the young
Gallants manners, until their Horses heads met. But the young fellow
crost expectation, and uncivilly demanded his way of the elder; who
replyed, Sir, since you will dispute it, I must tell you, according to
the rules of Civility, the Elder in our Country have alwayes the way
of their Younger: But the bold Upstart answered him again, that his
Horse would not give way to a Foole. To which the old man replyed, But
my Horse will, and so resigned the way to my gallant.


        A Man in a Hall,      [12.]
        His Dogg Cuckold did call;
  Says a Woman stood by, 'tis a shame
        To calle a Dogg so,
        For I'de have you to know
  'Tis a Christian bodies name.


[17.] A Lady was bragging that she had overthrown her Enemy in Law:
One of her Servants standing by, said, He took a wrong Sow by the ear,
when he meddled with your Ladyship.


[17.] In a great Corporation in _England_, the Serjeants[F. 108]
desired the Mayor they might have Gowns as formerly, for which they
had a president:[F. 109] Gowns, says the Mayor, and why not Coats? So
calling for a pair[F. 110] of Cards, said he could cut off that Custom
by a president also: he shewed them the four Kings and four Queens in
Gowns, but the four Knaves all in short Coats.

    [Footnote 108: These must not be confounded with that awful
    being, now legally extinct, a "Serjeant learned in the Law;"
    but meant tipstaves, or serjeants of the mace.]

    [Footnote 109: Precedent.]

    [Footnote 110: A pack.]


  Who woes a wife, thinks wedded men do know      [5.]
  The onely true content, I thinke not so;
  If Woe in wooers bee, that women court,
  As the word Woe in wooers doth import;
  And Woe in woemen too, that Courted be,
  As the word Woe in women we doe see.



A Merry Dialogue between _Thomas_ and _John_.

in the praise and dispraise of Women and Wine.

  Thomas against the Women doth contend,
  But John most stoutly doth their cause defend;
  Young and old read these lines that ensue,
  You'l all confess that what I write is true,
  I know no reason but that without dispute
  This may as well be printed as sung to a Lute.


To a gallant delightful new Tune, well known among Musitioners, and in
Play-houses: Called _Women and Wine_.


  _Thomas_

  Some Women are like to the Wine,      [71.]
    like the Sea, and like the Rocks,
  But they that proves them soon may find 'em
    like the Wine and Weathercocks.
  _But if you'l believe me_,
    _i'le tell you true_
  _What light Women are likeunto_,
  _Wine, Women and Wine_,
    _thus you may compare them too_.


  _John_

  Women most Constant Men doth find,
    not like the Sea, but like the Rocks,
  They are evermore loving and kind,
    not like the Wine and Weather Cocks
  _But if &c_


  _Thomas_

  Women have hooks, and women have crooks,
    so hath the Wine, so hath the Wine,
  Which draws great Lawyers from their books
    more than the Wine, more than the Wine.
  _But if &c_


  _John_

  Women have beauty and fair looks,
    So hath the Wine, so hath the Wine,
  Far surpassing the Lawyers books
    more than the Wine, more than the Wine.
  _But if you'l believe me_
    _i'le tell you true_
  _What good Women are like unto_,
  _Wine, Wine, Women and Wine_,
    _thus may you compare them too_.

[Illustration]


_Thomas_

  Women are Witches when they may
    so is the Wine, so is the Wine,
  Which causeth men from their Wives to stray,
    so will the Wine, so will the Wine.
  _But if you'l believe me_
    _i'le tell you true_
  _What light Women are like unto_.
  _Wine, Wine, Women and Wine_,
    _thus may you compare them too_.


  _John_

  Women are witty when they may,
    so is not Wine, so is not Wine,
  And causeth Men at home to stay,
    so doth not Wine, so doth not Wine.
  _But if &c_


  _Thomas_

  Women have arms for to imbrace,
    more than the Wine, more than the Wine,
  Which brings brave Gallants to disgrace,
    so doth the Wine, so doth the Wine.
  _But if &c_


  _John_

  Women most sweetly do imbrace
    more than the Wine, more than the Wine,
  And save their Husbands from disgrace,
    so doth not Wine, so doth not Wine.
  _But if &c_


  _Thomas_

  Women's tongues are like sharp swords,
    so is the Wine, so is the Wine,
  Which urgeth men to swear damn'd Oaths,
    so doth the Wine, so doth the Wine.
  _But if &c_


  _John_

  Women's tongues do speak sweet Words,
    so doth not Wine, so doth not Wine;
  They can persuade from damned Oaths,
    so will not Wine, so will not Wine.
  _But if &c_


  _Thomas_

  Women they do use to change,
    so doth the Wine, so doth the Wine,
  And often times abroad will range
    when Sun doth shine, when Sun doth shine.
  _But if &c_


  _John_

  Good Women they will never change,
    so will the Wine, so will the Wine,
  For profit they abroad will range,
    Hail, Rain or Shine, Hail Rain or Shine.
  _But if &c_


  _Thomas_

  Women they will fight and brawl,
    fill'd with Wine, fill'd with Wine,
  Their Husbands they will Cuckolds call,
    inflam'd with Wine, inflam'd with Wine.
  _But if &c_


  _John_

  Good Women they will comfort all,
    like the best Wine, like the best Wine,
  Whatever Sorrow doth befall,
    so will good Wine, so will good Wine.
  _But if you'l believe me_,
    _i'le tell you true_,
  _What good Women are like unto_,
  _Wine, Wine, Women and Wine_,
    _thus you may compare them to_.

Printed for J. Williamson,[F. 111] at the Sun and Bible in Cannon
Street near London Stone.

    [Footnote 111: Published in 1665.]


[17.] A Welch man in heat of blood, challenged an Englishman at Sword
and Buckler; but the Englishman giving him a lusty blow on the leg
which vext him, he threw down his Weapon, swearing _Splut, was not her
Buckler broad enough, but her must hit her on the leg?_


[52.] A _Bulkin_[F. 112] well knowne in divers places for his
mad conceits, and his couzenage, upon a time came into Kent to
Sittingborne; and in divers Villages there-about set up bills that all
sorts of people, young and old, that would come to Sittingborne, on
such a day, they should find a man there, that would give a remedy for
all kinds of diseases; and also would tell them what would happen unto
any of them in five or Six yeares after: and he would desire but two
pence a piece of any of them. Whereupon came people of all sorts and
from all places: so that he gathered of the people that came to the
value of twenty pounds: and he had provided a Stage, and set it up,
and placed a chaire where he would sit: and so, they being all come
in, and every one set in order, he comes to the gate, and takes the
money from them that gathered it, and bids them looke that good
rule be kept, and so they did: also hee bid them by and by sound the
drumme, and then he would begin his Orations. He, when they were
gone, with all haste gets him to the backe-side, and there having his
Gelding, gets upon his backe, and away towards _Rochester_ rides
he, as fast as ever he could gallop. Now they, thinking he had beene
preparing of things in a readinesse, sounded the drumme. The Audience
looked still when he would come, and staying one, two, or three
houres, nay more, thought sure they were cozened. Whereupon one of the
Company seeing a paper in the chaire on the Stage, tooke it, wherein
was written.

  _Now you have heard the sound of the drumme_
  _You may all depart like fooles as you come_.

Whereupon the men falling to cursing and swearing, the women to
scolding, scratching, and biting, were fame to depart like fooles
indeed.

    [Footnote 112: Or bulchin, is a little bull, or bull calf.]


      A Man being cold      [12.]
      In's Boots, was so bold,
  To stand near the fire for remedy;
      You'l burn your Spurs, says _Jane_,
      My Boots sure you mean;
  No, Sir, they are burnt already.


[26.] A Scholar coming home from _Cambridge_ to his Father, his Father
askt him what he had learnt? Why Father, says he, I'll prove that
this Capon is better than the blessing of God. How Zon, says he, come,
let's hear it; Why thus, Father, says he, nothing you know is better
than the blessing of God, and this Leg of the Capon is better than
Nothing: Ergo.


[52.] In London dwelt a mad conceited fellow, which with his wit lived
with Gallants and domineered with good fellowes. Not very long agoe,
in Hay-harvest, he gets a Pitchforke on his neck, went forth towards
Islington in the morning, and meets with two loads of Hay, comming
towards the City to be sold: for the which hee bargained with them
that owned the same, for thirty shillings. But whither shall wee bring
them? quoth they. To the Swanne by Smithfield, said hee. And so went
his way, and left them: then to the Swan he went, to the good man of
the house, and asked if he would buy two loades of Hay? Yes, quoth
the Inne keeper, where be they? Here they come, quoth he. What shall
I pay, quoth the In-keeper? Foure Nobles[F. 113] a load, quoth the
Make-shift. But at the last they agreed for twenty shillings. When
they were come, he bad them unload the Hay. So while they were
unloading of it, hee came to the Inne-holder, and said, I pray you let
me have my money: for while my men unload, I will buy some stuffe to
have home with me. The Inne-holder was content, and gave him money,
and so hee went away. When the men had unloaded their Hay they came
and demanded their money. I have paid your Master (quoth the Inne
holder). What Master? quoth they. Marry, quoth hee, he that bad you
bring the Hay hither. Wee know him not quoth they. Nor I neither,
quoth hee, but with him I bargained, and him have I paid; with you I
meddled not, and therefore go seeke him if you will. And so the poore
men were cozened.

    [Footnote 113: A noble was 6s. 8d.]



[72.]

[Illustration: A BOVLSTER LECTVRE.

"Dum Loquor icta taces."

"Surdu canis."

  _This_ wife _a wondrous racket meanes to keepe_,
  _While th'_Husband _seemes to sleepe but do'es not sleepe:_
  _But she might full as well her_ Lecture _smother_,
  _For ent'ring one Eare, it goes out at t'other_.
]


The accompanying quaint illustration shows the antiquity of "Mrs.
Caudle's Curtain Lectures."[F. 114]

    [Footnote 114: At p. 107 the very phrase is mentioned,
    "These need not feare to have their shoulders
    besprinkled with _Zantippee's_ livery; or to have their
    breakfast chang'd into a Morning _Curtaine Lecture_."]


  A friend of _Durus_ comming on a day      [5.]
  To visite him, finding the doores say nay;
  Being lock'd fast up, first knocks, and then doth pause,
  As Lord have mercy on's[F. 115] had bin the cause;
  But missing it, he ask't a neighbour by
  When the rich _Durus_' (doors) were lock'd and why?
  He said it was a Custome growne of late
  At diner time to lock your great man's gate,
  _Durus_' his poor friend admir'd & thought the door
  Was not for State lock'd up, but 'gainst the poore,
  And thence departing empty of good cheere,
  Said, Lord have mercy on us is not there.

    [Footnote 115: Houses visited by the plague were marked by
    a cross chalked on the door, and also the words, "Lord have
    mercy on us."]


  A Man there was, who liv'd a merry life,      [72.]
  Till in the end he tooke him to a Wife;
  One that no image was (for shee could speake)
  And now and then her husbands costrell[F. 116] breake:
  So fierce she was and furious, as in summe,
  She was an arrant Devill of her tongue.
  This drove the poore man to a discontent,
  And oft, and many times did he repent
  That e're hee chang'd his former quiet state,
  But 'las, repentance then did come too late.
  No cure he finde to cure this maladie,
  But makes a vertue of necessitie,
  The common cure for care to every man,
  "A potte of nappy Ale:" where he began
  To fortifie his braine 'gainst all should come,
  'Mongst which the clamour of his wives loud tongue
  This habit graffed[F. 117] in him grew so strong,
  That when he was from Ale, an houre seem'd long,
  So well hee lik'd th' profession: on a Time
  Having staid long at pot (for rule nor line
  Limits no drunkard) even from Morne to Night,
  He hasted home apace, by the Moone-light:
  Where as he went, what phantasies were bred,
  I doe not know, in his distempered head,
  But a strange Ghost appear'd, and forc'd him stay,
  With which perplext, hee thus began to say:
  "Good Spirit, if thou be, I need no charme,
  For well I know, thou wilt not doe mee harme;
  And if the Devill; sure mee thou shoulds't not hurt,
  I wed't thy _Sister_, and am plagued for't."
  The Spirit, well approving what he said,
  Dissolv'd to ayre, and quickly vanished.

    [Footnote 116: Head.]

    [Footnote 117: Grafted.]


[17.] A Taylor sent his bill to a Lawyer for money; the Lawyer bid the
Boy tell his Master, that he was not running away (being very busie at
that time). The Boy comes again, and tells him he must needs have his
money. Did'st tell him, I was not running away? Yes Sir, but he bid me
tell you, that _though you were not running away, yet he was_.


[17.] A Schollar was lock'd out of _Wadham_ Colledge, and about ten
a Clock he came and knockt; the Porter came to the Gate, and told him
the Warden had took up the keys with him: Pray, says he to the Porter,
go to the Warden, and tell him I am here: Truly, Sir, says he, the
Warden is angry with me already, I dare not do it: but if you'll go
your self, it may be he'll give you the keys.


  He's rich that hath great in-comes by the year;      [5.]
  Then that great belly'd man is rich, Ile swear:
  For sure, his belly ne'r so big had bin,
  Had he not daily had great comings in.


[26.] One meeting a mad Fellow that was drunk, ask't him whither he
was going? says he, I am going to the Tavern: No, says t'other, that
you are not; for Drunkenness is the way to Hell, and thither you are
going. Puh, says the Drunkard, you are therein much mistaken; and I
ne'r fear that, for I am so drunk, that my Legs are not able to
carry me so far; and what need I go thither agen, for I came from the
Devil[F. 118] (_Tavern_) but now.

    [Footnote 118: In Fleet Street, close by where Temple Bar
    stood, now Messrs. Childs' Bank.]



PORTSMOUTH'S LAMENTATION

OR

_A Dialogue between Two Amorous Ladies_, E.G.[F. 119] and D.P.[F. 120]

  Dame _Portsmouth_ was design'd for _France_,
    But therein was prevented;
  Who mourns at this Unhappy Chance,
    and sadly doth lament it.


To the Tune of, Tom the Taylor, Or, Titus Oats.

[Illustration]

  I prithee _Portsmouth_ tell me plain,      [73.]
    without dissimulation,
  When dost thou home return again,
    and leave this English Nation?
  Your youthful days are past and gone,
    you plainly may perceive it
  Winter of age is coming on,
    'tis true, you may believe it.

  And, _Nelly_, is't not so with thee,
    why dost thou seem to flout me,
  I am in clos'd with misery,
    and sorrows round about me:
  O, 'twas a sad and fatal hour,
    as ere could come to me,
  When Death did all my joys devour,
    on purpose to undoe me.

  Thy loss was much, I must confess,
    and much to be lamented,
  Now thou art almost pittiless,
    thy design it is prevented:
  To _France_ 'twas thy intent to go,
    but therein did'st miscarry,
  And trouble 'tis to thee I know,
    that thou art forc'd to tarry.

  Fye _Nell_, this news is worse and worse,
    and doth increase my trouble,
  That I must now unstring my purse,
    doth make my sorrow double:
  From hence I thought for to convey
    what in this land I gained,
  But I am here confin'd to stay,
    and now my credits stain'd.

  Pish, lightly come, and lightly go,
    ne'er let this matter grieve thee,
  Tho' fortune seems to be thy foe,
    and for a while to leave thee:
  Yet shee again on thee may smile,
    then be not broken hearted,
  Tho' from this little _Brittish_ Isle,
    thou must not yet be parted.

  With care and grief I am opprest,
    and I am discontented,
  Sorrow is lodged in my Breast,
    my Youthful life lamented:
  How did I vainly spend my time,
    tho' Riches still increased,
  And played the Wanton in my prime,
    but now my comfort's ceased.

  Well, thou hast laid up Riches store,
    to serve thee when afflicted,
  And yet doth carp and crave for more,
    thou cans't not contradict it:
  But let enough thy mind suffice
    since Fortune frowns upon thee,
  Now shew thyself discreet and wise,
    or else what will come on thee?

  Could I but safely get to _France_,
    with all my Gold and Treasure,
  Then would I briskly sing and dance,
    and Riot beyond measure;
  But I am crost in my design,
    which greatly doth torment me,
  And 'tis in vain for to repine,
    what Plagues hath Heaven sent me.

  Madam I fear it will grow worse,
    with patience strive to bear it,
  And since you must unstring your purse,
    for it now be prepared:
  Your debts in England must be paid
    believe me what I tell ye,
  And thereat be not dismaied,
    but be advised by _Nelly_.

FINIS.

Printed for C. Dennisson[F. 121] at the Stationer's Arms, within
Aldgate.

    [Footnote 119: Eleanor, or Nell, Gwynne.]

    [Footnote 120: Louise de Querouaille, Duchess of Portsmouth,
    a mistress of Charles II. from whom are descended the Dukes
    of Richmond, died November 1734, aged 88. This ballad was
    evidently written soon after the king's death in 1685.]

    [Footnote 121: He published from 1685 to 1689.]


It will be seen by the foregoing supposed portraits of Nell Gwynne
and the Duchess of Portsmouth (which, by the way, do plenty of duty
in other ballads) that the _patching_ of this age among women was in
somewhat fantastic form, such a patch as a coach and four not being
unknown; but few know that the mercers (or linen-drapers, as we now
call them) patched themselves in order to show the effect to their
fair customers. The annexed example shows one who holds a lady's
vizard, or mask, for they did not then wear veils, which are quite a
modern invention, together with a feather-fan and some ribands, or,
as the frontispiece of the book records, divulging the secrets of the
toilet.

[Illustration: Here be your new Fashions Mistris.]


  Here's black Bags, Ribons, Copper Laces,      [74.]
  Paintings, and beauty spots for faces?
  Masques, and Fans you here may have
  Taffity Gownes and Scarfes most brave
  Curled haire, and crisped Locks.
  Aprons white, and Holland Smocks:
  All sort of powders here are sold
  To please all People young and old.
  Then come my Customers touch and try,
  Behold and see, draw forth and buy.

Unfortunately this little penny book is generally too broad in its
humour to be reprinted; but one extract, which may be reproduced,
will suffice to show its quality:--"Come who buys my new Fashion'd
Periwigs, if there be any manner of Single man, Widdower, or Batchelor
that thinks his owne naturall Haire not good enough for him, here
is _Jack in a box_, that will fit him to a haire, with all sorts of
Periwigs, and all sorts of colours and fashions, both long Haire, or
short Haire, Flaxen haire, or yellow haire, black, blew, red, tawny,
browne, or Abraham[F. 122] Colour, thats halfe Nits, and half Lice; or
if any bauld pated fellow among you that have lost his hair off from
his head, I have a Periwig for him of goodly long Haire, that will
hang downe and cover all his shoulders, and that may serve to cover
all his knavery: or, if any younger Brothers that desires to have
their naturall Haire that growes upon their heads Dyed of another
Colour? here are all sorts of powders, of several colours and
Fashions, that will doe the trick gallantly."

    [Footnote 122: Nares thinks that _Abram_-coloured hair is a
    corruption for _auburn_, but it is just possible that, being a
    patriarch, very gray or white hair is meant.]


_To one that desired me not to name him._

  Be safe, nor feare thy selfe so good a fame,      [70.]
  That, any way, my booke should speake thy name:
  For, if thou shame, ranck'd with my friends, to goe,
  I am more asham'd to have thee thought my foe.


[4.] A Scholar meeting a Countreyman upon the Road rid up very briskly
to him; but the Countreyman, out of respect to him was turning off his
Horse to give him the Road, when the Scholar, laying his Hand upon his
Sword, said, _'Tis well you gave me the Way, or I'd----_ _What wou'd
you have done?_ said the Countreyman, holding up his Club at him----
_Given it to you, Sir_, says he, pulling off his Hat to him.


[17.] One wondred there was so many Pick pockets about _London_,
seeing there's a Watch at every corner: _Pah_, says another, _they'd
as willingly meet with a watch as any thing else_.


  _More dew_ the Mercer, with a kinde salute,      [5.]
  Would needs intreate my custome for a suit:
  Here Sir, quoth he, for Sattins, Velvets call,
  What e're you please, I'le take your word for all.
  I thank'd, took, gave my word; say then,
  Am I at all indebted to this man?


[61.] A mad young Gallant, having rid as he feared, out of his way,
overtook a blunt Country fellow, and asked him, which was the way to
_Salesbury_? The Country man, intending not only to set him right: but
withall to know whether or no he had committed any error in his way
thither, asked him as the manner is, from whence he came, to which the
surly Gallant answered, _Why what is that to you, from whence I came?_
_You say true Master,_ quoth the Bumkin, _It is nothing to me from
whence you come, nor whether you goe._ So he walkt away with his hands
coupled behind him, and left the gentle fool to study out his way to
_Salesbury_.


To review, or even to largely quote from the dramatists of the
seventeenth century is not within the scope of this work, but I cannot
refrain (because they are so scarce) from giving a sample of one of
the "Drolls," as they were called--short plays performed in booths
at the fairs, and very often abbreviated versions of the legitimate
drama, as "Bottom the Weaver," from _A Midsummer's Night's Dream_;
"The Humours of the Gravemakers," from _Hamlet_. In fact, as the
preface to the book [75.], whence the accompanying Droll is taken,
states, "The most part of these Pieces were written by such Penmen as
were known to be the ablest Artists that ever this Nation produced, by
Name, _Shake-spear_, _Fletcher_, _Johnson_, _Shirley_, and others; and
these Collections are the very Souls of their writings, if the witty
part thereof may be so termed: And the other small Pieces composed
by several other Authors, are such as have been of great fame in this
last Age, when the publique Theatres were shut up, and the Actors
forbidden to present us with any of their Tragedies, because we had
enough of that in earnest, and Comedies, because the Vices of the Age
were too lively and smartly represented; then all that we could divert
our selves with, were these humours and pieces of Plays, which
passing under the Name of a merry Conceited Fellow, called _Bottom the
Weaver_, _Simpleton the Smith_, _John Swabber_, or some such Title,
were only allowed us, and that by stealth too, and under pretence of
Rope-dancing, or the like; and these being all that was permitted us,
great was the confluence of the Auditors; and these small things were
as profitable, and as great get-pennies to the Actors[F. 123] as any
of our late famed Plays. I have seen the _Red Bull_[F. 124] Playhouse,
which was a large one, so full that as many went back for want of room
as had entred; and as meanly as you may now think of these Drols, they
were then acted by the best Comedians then and now in being; and I
may say, by some that then exceeded all now Living; by Name, the
incomparable _Robert Cox_ who was not only the principal Actor, but
also the Contriver and Author of most of these Farces. How have I
heard him cryed up for his _John Swabber_, and _Simpleton the Smith?_
In which he being to appear with a large piece of Bread and Butter, I
have frequently known several of the Female Spectators and Auditors to
long for some of it: and once that well known Natural, _Jack Adams_
of _Clarkenwel_, seeing him with Bread and Butter on the Stage, and
knowing him, cryed out, Cuz, Cuz, give me some, give me some; to
the great pleasure of the Audience. And so Naturally did he Act the
Smith's part, that being at a Fair in a Countrey Town, and that
Farce being presented, the only Master Smith of the Town came to him,
saying, well, although your Father speaks so ill of you, yet when
the Fair is done, if you will come and work with me, I will give you
twelve pence a week more than I give any other Journey-Man. Thus was
he taken for a Smith bred, that was indeed as much of any Trade.

... Thus were these Compositions liked and approved by all, and they
were the fittest for the Actors to represent, there being little Cost
in Cloaths, which often were in great danger to be seized by the then
Souldiers, who, as the Poet sayes, _Enter the Red Coat, Exit Hat and
Cloak_, was very true, not only in the Audience, but the Actors too,
were commonly, not only strip'd, but many times imprisoned, till they
paid such Ransom as the Souldiers would impose upon them; so that it
was hazardous to Act any thing that required any good Cloaths, instead
of which painted Cloath many times served the turn to represent Rich
Habits ... and this painting puts me in mind of a piece I once saw
in a Country Inn, where was, with the best skill of the Workman
represented King _Pharaoh_ with _Moses_ and _Aaron_, and some others,
to explain which figures, was added this piece of Poetry

  Here _Pharaoh_ with his Goggle Eyes does stare on
  The High Priest _Moses_, with the Prophet _Aaron_.
  Why, what a Rascal
  Was he that would not let the People go to eat the Phascal.

The Painting was in every wayes as defective and lame as the Poetry,
for I believe he who pictured King _Pharaoh_, had never seen a King in
his life, for all the Majesty he was represented with was goggle Eyes,
that his Picture might be answerable to the Verse."

We see by the above extract that much was not expected in a Droll;
and, verily, few could have been disappointed. To modern taste the
humour of the majority is too coarse; and, therefore, I have been
obliged to take, as an exemplar, the most innocent of its class.

    [Footnote 123: It is a curious fact that both Nares and
    Halliwell, in their glossaries, describe Drolls as being
    _puppet_ shows, when, as is shown, they were acted by living
    people.]

    [Footnote 124: This theatre was in Clerkenwell, at the corner
    of what is now Woodbridge Street, and here acted (in October
    1617, if not again) Edward Alleyn, the founder of Dulwich
    College. It is frequently mentioned in contemporary books,
    notably by Prynne in his _Histrio Martix_, and by Pepys in his
    Diary, 4th August 1660, and 23d March and 26th May 1662.]



The Humour of Bumpkin.

_Argument needless, It being a Thorow Farce very well known--_


[75.] _Actors Names._

Acteon, three Huntsmen, Bumpkin, three Country Wenches.


_Enter first Huntsman, and Bumkin._

  _1. Hunt._ Why, what's the matter?

  _Bump._ Nay, I know not; but every day my great Guts, and
  my small Guts make such a Combustion in my belly, as passes,
  and my Puddings, (like Lances) run a-tilt at my heart,
  and make me queasie-stomacht.

  _1 Hunt._ Canst thou not guess the reason of this trouble?

  _Bump._ Yes, I think I can, and I'le be judged by thee,
  if my case be not desperate. I have a horrible mind to be in love.

  _1 Hunt._ With whom?

  _Bump._ With any body; but I cannot find out the way how
  to be in Love.

  _1. Hunt._ Why? I'le instruct thee: Cans't thou be melancholly?

  _Bump._ Yes, as a Dog, or a Hog-louse; I could even find
  it in my heert to cry presently.

  _1. Hunt._ Canst thou sleep well?

  _Bump._ I cannot tell, I never saw myself sleep.

  _1. Hunt._ Is't possible that thou so long been an attendant
  upon my Lord Acteon, shoulds't be to learn the way to
  be in love.

  _Bump._ I would it were not possible, on the condition thou
  wert hang'd and quartered.

  _1 Hunt._ I thank you, Sir. But _Bumpkin_ list to me; This
  day thou knows't the Maids and Young men meet to sport, and revel it
  about the May pole: Present thy self there, tell thy cause of grief,
  and I dare warrant thee a Sweet-heart presently.

  _Bump._ If thou cans't do that, Ile marry her first and learn to
  love her afterwards.

  _1 Hunt._ Hast hither, _Bumpkin_ I'le go on before     (_Exit_)

  _Bump._ And I will follow thee a dog trot. Is it not a pitty:
  that a man of Authority as I am, having been chief Dog-Keeper
  to my Lord Acteon this five years, being a man so comely of person,
  and having such a pure complexion, that all fair Ladies may be
  ashamed to look on me, and that I should be distressed for a
  Sweet-heart? Maypole I come.

  And if the Wenches there encrease my pains
  And scorn to love, i'le beat out all their brains.

(_Exit_)

_Enter Huntsmen with three Country Wenches._

  _2. Co. Wench._ Is it possible would _Bumpkin_ be in love?

  _1 Hunt._ Yes, if he knew but how, and for that sickness I have
  undertaken to become his Doctor: For at the May Pole meeting 'tis
  decreed, a Sweet-heart must be purchast, come what will on't.

  _3. Co. Wench._ Nay, if he be distressed, twenty to one he may
  find charitable persons there. Come, strike up a _Farewel
  to Misfortune_.      (_Exit_)

_Enter Bumpkin._

  _Bump._ That is a Dance that I could never hit of: pray desist
  a woile, and hear my doleful Tale.

  _1. Co. Wench._ He'l make us cry sure.

  _Bump._ Be it known unto all men by these presents----

  _2. Co. Wench._ An Obligation, we will be no witnesses.

  _Bump._ Why then I'le hang my self.

  _3. Co. Wench._ We will be witness then.

  _Bump._ What, to my hanging? O' my Conscience, if I should
  woo my heart out, I should never be the fatter for it.--Where's
  your promise now?

  _1. Hunt._ You have not yet exprest yourself; be plain, tell
  them your grief; a remedy will follow.

  _Bump._ If that be all, 'tis an easy matter, pray take notice that
  I am in love--with somebody.

  _2. Co. Wench._ Would I were she.

  _Bump._ Why, so you are, if you have a mind to it.

  _2 Co. Wench._ Why then, you are my own.

  _3. Co. Wench._ Pardon me, Sister, I bespake him yesterday.

(_They all hang about him_)

  _Bump._ Yes, marry did she      (Goes to her).

  _1. Co. Wench._ But I was she that won him at the May pole.

  _2. Co. Wench._ Was that the Cause you strove so for the
  Garland.

  _Bump._ What's that to you?       (_Goes to her._)
  Would I had any of them in quietness.

  _3. Co. Wench._ But yet I must have share.

  _1. Co. Wench._ So must I too.      (_All pull him_)

  _2. Co. Wench._ I will not part without the better half.

  _Bump._ Then who shall have me whole? what--are you mad?

  _3. Co. Wench._ Theres reason for a madness in this Case.

  _1. Co. Wench._ I will not loose my right. Let go, I say.

  _2. Co. Wench._ He shall be mine, or else he shall be nothing.

  _Bump._ Away you burrs, why do you stick so on me? Now
  by this hand, if nothing can perswade you, I'le drown
  myself for spight, that you may perish.      (_Horn_)

  _1. Hunt._ Hark, hark, my Lord _Acteons_ warning piece; That
  Horn gives us intelligence he doth intend to Spend this
  day in hunting: _Bumpkin_ why stay you? the hounds
  will quarrel with you: we'l come after.

  _1. Co. Wench._ Will you not stay, my Love?

  _Bump._ I'le see you hang'd first, and by this hand, ere I will
  be in love again, I will feed my hounds with my own
  proper Carcase.      (_Exit_)

  _2. Co. Wench._ Now he is gone, our dancing may go forward.

  _2. Hunt._ My Lord Acteon stays, be quick, I pray.

  _3. Co. Wench._ Quick as you will; the doing of it quick, makes
  it shew the better.       (_A Country Dance. Then Exeunt._)

_Enter Acteon and Bumpkin._

  _Acteon._ Be nimble, Sirrah.

  _Bump._ Nimble? yes, as a bear that hath been lug'd to
  purpose: if Love be such a troublesome Companion I
  will entreat him to keep out of my Company.

  _Acteon._ We consume the day.

  _Bump._ They have saved me a labour.

  _Acteon._ Fie, what mean you? The glory of the day calls us
  to action.

  _1. Hunt._ Sir, you may please to know, that yesternight I lodged
  a boar within the neighbouring Forest.

  _Bump._ Yes, Sir, and I lodged a Fox at a house hard by.



  A pleasant new Ballad to sing both Even and Morne,
  Of the bloody murther of Sir _John Barley corne_.


To the tune of, _Shall I lye beyond thee_.[F. 125]


  As I went through the North Countrey      [76.]
    I heard a merry greeting:
  A pleasant toy, and full of joy,
    two noble men were meeting.

  And as they walked for to sport,
    upon a Sommers day,
  Then with another nobleman
    they went to make a fray.

  Whose name was sir John Barley Corne,
    he dwelt downe in a dale;
  Who had a kinsman dwelt him nigh,
    they cal'd him Thomas Goodale.

  Another named Richard Beere,
    was ready at that time
  Another worthy knight was there
    call'd sir William White Wine.

  Some of them fought in a blacke Jacke
    some of them in a Can,
  But the chiefest in a black pot,
    like a worthy noble man.

  Sir John Barley-corne fought in a Boule,
    who wonne the victorie;
  And made them all to fume and sweare
    that Barley-corne should die.

[Illustration]

  Some said kill him, some said drowne,
    others wisht to hang him hie,
  For as many as follow Barley-corne,
    shall surely beggers die.

  Then with a plough they plowed him up
    and thus they did devise,
  To burie him quicke within the earth,
    and swore he should not rise.

  With horrowes strong they combed him,
    and burst clods on his head;
  A joyfull banquet then was made
    when Barly-Corne was dead.

  He rested still within the earth,
    till raine from skies did fall,
  Then he grew up in branches greene,
    which sore amaz'd them all.

  And so grew up till Mid-sommer,
    which made them all afeard,
  For he was sprouted up on hie,
    and got a goodly beard.

  Then he grew till S. _James_ tide,
    his countenance was wan,
  For he was growne unto his strength,
    and thus became a man.

  With hookes and sickles keene
    into the field they hide[F. 126]
  They Cut his legs off by the knees
    and made him wounds full wide.

  Thus bloodily they cut him downe
    from place where he did stand,
  And like a thiefe for treachery,
    they bound him in a band.

  So then they tooke him up againe
    according to his kind;
  And packt him up in severall sackes,
    to wither with the wind.

  And with a pitch forke that was sharpe
    they rent him to the heart,
  And like a thiefe for treason vile,
    they bound him in a cart.

  And tending him with weapons strong
    unto the towne they hye,
  And straight they mowed him in a mow
    and there they let him lie.

  Then he lay groning by the wals,
    till all his wounds were sore,
  At length they tooke him up againe,
    and cast him on the floore.

  They hyred two with holly clubs,
    to beat on him at once,
  They thwacked so on Barly-corne,
    that flesh fell from the bones.

  And then they tooke him up againe,
    to fulfill womens minde,
  They dusted him, and they sifted him,
    till he was almost blind.

  And then they knit him in a sacke,
    which grieved him full sore,
  They steeped him in a Fat,[F. 127] God wot,
    for three days space and more.

  And then they took him up againe,
    and laid him for to drie,
  They cast him on a chamber floore,
    and swore that he should die.

  They rubbed him and they stirred him,
    and still they did him turne,
  The malt man swore that he should die,
    his body he would burne.

  They spightfully tooke him up againe,
    and threw him on a kill [F. 128]
  So dried him there with fire hot
    and thus they wraught their will.

  Then they brought him to the mill,
    and there they burst his bones,
  The Miller swore to murther him,
    betwixt a pair of stones.

  Then they tooke him up againe,
    and serv'd him worse than that,
  For with hot scalding liquor store
    they washt him in a Fat

  But not content with this, God wot,
    that did him mickle harme;
  With threatening words they promised
    to beat him into barme.

  And lying in this danger deep,
    for feare that he should quarrell,
  They tooke him straight out of the fat,
    and tunn'd him in a barrell.

  And then they set a tap to him,
    even thus his death begun;
  They drew out every drain of blood,
    Whilst any drop would run.

  Some brought jacks[F. 129] upon their backs,
    some brought bill and bow,
  And every man his weapon had,
    Barly-Corne to overthrow.

  When sir John Goodale heard of this
    he came with mickle might,
  And there he took their tongues away,
    their legs or else their sight.

  And thus sir John in each respect
    so paid them all their hire,
  That some lay sleeping by the way,
    some tumbling in the mire.

  Some lay groning by the wals,
    some in the streets downeright,
  The best of them did scarcely know
    what they had done ore night.

  All you good wives that brew good ale
    God turn from you all teene,[F. 130]
  But if you put too much water in
    the devill put out your eyne.

FINIS.

London, Printed for _John Wright_,[F. 131] and are to be sold at his
shop in _Guilt spurre_ Street at the signe of the Bible.

A very slight comparison with Robert Burns' poem on this subject will
show how much he was indebted to this version, having plagiarised,
almost verbally, in many parts.

    [Footnote 125: For tune, see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 126: Hied.]

    [Footnote 127: Vat]

    [Footnote 128: Kiln]

    [Footnote 129: A thick leather coat; here used in another
    sense as a "black jack" or leather can.]

    [Footnote 130: Sorrow.]

    [Footnote 131: A John Wright at the Bible, near Newgate,
    published between 1624 and 1627; but a J. Wright in Giltspur
    Street published from 1670 to 1690. In the Roxburghe Ballads
    are three editions of this ballad, catalogued (?) 1650, 1690,
    1730.]


_How_ Tarlton _tooke Tobacco at the first comming up of it_.

[77.] _Tarlton_, (as other Gentlemen used) at the first comming up of
Tabacco, did take it more for fashion's sake than otherwise, & being
in a roome, set between two Men overcome with Wine, and they never
seeing the like, wondred at it; and seeing the vapour come out of
_Tarlton's_ nose, cryed out Fire, fire, and then threw a Cup of Wine
in _Tarlton's_ face. Make no more stirre, quoth Tarlton, the fire
is quenched: if the Sheriffes come, it will turne to a fine, as the
Custome is. And drinking that againe, Fie, sayes the other, what a
stinke it makes, I am almost poisoned. If it offend, saies _Tarlton_,
let's every one take a little of the smell, and so the savour will
quickly goe: but Tobacco whiffes made them leave him to pay all.


  _Dick_ had but two words to maintain him ever,      [5.]
  And that was, Stand; and, after, stand--Deliver.
  But _Dick's_ in Newgate, and he fears shall never
  Be blest again with that sweet word, Deliver.


        A tall Man void of wit,      [12.]
        We may compare him fit
  To a House six Stories high at least;
        Where commonly we see
        That the upper Rooms be
  Worst furnish'd than any of the rest.


[78.] One hearing a Usurer say he had been on the pike of _Teneriff_
(which is supposed to be one of the highest hils in the worlde) asked
him why he had not stay'd there, for he was perswaded hee would never
come so neere heaven againe.


[32.] I consume my mother that bare me, I eat my nurse that fed me,
then I dye leaving all blind that saw me.

_Solution._ Meant of the flame of a Candle, which having consumed both
wax and weeke, goeth out leaving them in the dark that saw by it.


The following shows the extent to which political satire can be
carried, and its wit and rarity must be my apology for introducing
it:--

The PARLIAMENTS X _Commandements_

  [79.] 1. Thou shalt have no other Gods but the LORDS
  and COMMONS assembled at Westminster.

  2. Thou shalt not make any Addresses to the King, nor
  yeeld obedience to any of his Commands; neither shalt thou
  weare any Image either of him or his Posterity; thou shalt
  not bow down unto him, nor Worship him, for Wee are jealous
  Gods, and will visite such sinnes unto the third and fourth
  Generation of them that hate us, and will not observe our
  Votes, Orders, and Ordinances.

  3. Thou shalt not take the Names of Us, your GODS in
  vaine, for we cannot hold you guiltlesse that take our Names
  in vaine.

  4. Remember that thou keep holy the Fast Day, for that
  is Our Sabbath; in it thou shalt doe no manner of Work, for
  we have blessed that Day, and hallowed it.

  5. Thou shalt neither yeeld Honor nor Obedience to the
  King (thy Countries Father) or thy Naturall Father or Mother,
  so Wee will make thy dayes long in the lands which we shall
  take from the ungodly and wicked ones, to bestow upon thee.

  6. Thou shalt Remove the Wicked One from his Throne,
  and his Posterity from off the face of the Earth.

  7. Thou shalt edify the Sisters, and abundantly increase
  and multiply the Saints.

  8. Thou shalt get all thou canst; part from nothing; doe
  no right, take no rong, neither pay any Debts.

  9. Thou shalt be a Witness for us, against whomsoever we
  judge to be Wicked, that so We may cut them off, that the
  Saints may enjoy abundance of all things.

  10. Thou shalt enjoy thy Neighbours House, his Wife, his
  Servant, his Maid, his Oxe, or his Asse, or any thing that
  belongs unto him; Provided he first be Voted (by US) to be
  a wicked or ungodly Person.

    All these Commandements Wee require you, and every of you
    with all diligence to observe; and We your LORDS and GODS will
    incline your hearts to keepe the Same.


The Parliaments PATER NOSTER.

Our Fathers, which think your Houses of Parliament to be heaven; you
would be honoured as GODS, because CHARLES his Kingdome is come unto
you; your wills must be done on earth, as unto the God of heaven;
you have gotten the day, and dispose of our daily bread; you will not
forgive any, neither must you look to be forgiven; you lead us into
rebellion and all other mischiefs, but cannot deliver us from evil.
Yours is the Kingdom, the power and glory, Parliament everlasting.
_Amen_.


The ARTICLES of the FAITH.

I Beleeve in CROMWELL, the Father of all Schisme, Sedition, Heresy and
Rebellion, and in his onely Son _Ireton_, our Saviour, begotten by the
Spirit in a hole, borne of a winching Mare, suffered under a house of
Office at _Brainford_, he deserves to be drawn, hang'd and quartered,
and to remain unburied: for he descended into _Hull_, the third day
he rose up in Rebellion against his KING, and now sitteth at the right
hand of the gods at Westminster. He beleeves there is no Holy Ghost,
nor Catholique Church, nor forgiveness of sins, but the Communion
of the Sisters, the resurrection of his Members, and Parliament
everlasting. AMEN.

    _Ordered._--That these new Commandements, Pater Noster,
    and Creed be read in all Parish Churches and Congregations,
    throughout England and Wales.


      One told a Principal    [12.]
      That some Rogues of his Hall
  Had abus'd him late in his Stall;
      I desire some redress
      And you can do no less,
  'Cause of 'em you are the Principal.



The Miser mump'd of his Gold.

or

The merry Frolick of a Lady of Pleasure in _Bartholomew_ Fair; shewing
how she fed the Usurer with Pig, but made him pay for the Sawce.


To the Tune of _Let Cæsar live long_.

_Licensed according to order._


  A Lady of Pleasure in Bartholomew Fair.    [80.]
  Was powder'd and painted, nay drest in her Hair;
  In such rich Apparel she then did appear,
  As if her Estate was ten thousand a Year:
      _Of each huffing[F. 132] Gallant she would make an Ass_,
      _She fed them with Pig, but they paid for the Sawce_.

  Among all the rest I will mention but one,
  A Miser, who is in fair London well known;
  Yet I will forbear now to mention his Name,
  Because I am willing to keep free from blame:
      _Of this wretched Miser she made a meer Ass_
      _She fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce_.

  Tis known this old Miser he seldom did eat
  From Years-end to Years end a meal of good meat;
  Except it was given him freely, and then
  He would eat as much as five labouring Men:
      _He hapn'd to meet with this beautiful Lass_
      _Who fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce_.

[Illustration]

  It hapn'd this Miser went over the Rounds[F. 133]
  And under his Arm he had seven score Pounds:
  The which he was going that Morning to lend:
  This Lady she met him, and said My dear Friend
      _Your former good Nature lays claim to a Glass:_
      _She found Wine and Pig, but he paid for the Sawce_.

  The Miser he told here he dare not drink Wine
  Nor any such liquors until he had Din'd:
  Quoth she, since we here did so luckily meet,
  I now am resolved to give thee a treat:
      _Away to her chamber they straightways did pass_,
      _She fed him with pig, but he paid for the Sawce_.

  A Dinner she straightways provided with speed,
  The Miser he like an old Farmer did feed;
  Concluding that he should have nothing to pay,
  But to eat and drink, aye, and so go his way;
      _The Lady supply'd him with Glass after Glass_,
      _She found him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce_.

  This Lady supply'd him with Liquor good store,
  Till he was not able to drink any more;
  Full bowls of Canary he had drank so deep,
  That all of a sudden he fell fast asleep:
      _Thus of this Old Miser she made a meer Ass_,
      _She fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce_.

  She shook him, and finding that he would not wake,
  The Sevenscore Pound she did presently take;
  Then locking the Miser up in an old Chest,
  This brings me, in short, to the Cream of the Jest:
      _Thus her waggish purpose was soon brought to pass_,
      _She fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce_,

  Now he having told her before where he dwelt,
  In this subtle manner she cunningly dealt;
  Straight calling a Porter to finish this strife,
  The Miser she sent in a Chest to his Wife:
      _Without e're a Penny in Silver, alas!_
      _Thus she fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce_.

  This Lady she gave him two Shillings at first,
  And bade him be sure he was true to his Trust;
  Now for to deliver his Burthen with Care,
  For why, I must tell you it is Merchant's Ware:
      _And thus the poor Miser was made a meer Ass_,
      _She fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce_.

  Now just as the Porter came to his own Door,
  The Miser awak'd, and loudly did roar;
  The honest poor Porter was frighten'd, alack!
  Supposing that he had Old Nick at his back:
      _But it was the wretched Old Miser, alas!_
      _Who was fed with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce_.

  The Wife she was frighten'd this Wretch to behold,
  The Miser stark-mad for his Silver and Gold;
  But all was in vain, tho' he search'd _Smithfield_ round,
  The Lady of Pleasure was not to be found:
      _Thus of an Old Miser she made a meer Ass_,
      _She gave him roast Pig, but he paid for his Sawce_.

    [Footnote 132: Swaggering.]

    [Footnote 133: Had been collecting money.]


[77.] In the Country where the Queenes Plaiers were accepted into a
Gentleman's house, the waggon unloading of the apparell, the Wagoner
comes to _Tarlton_ & doth desire him to speake to the Steward for
his horses. I will saies he: & comming to the Steward, Sir, saies
_Tarlton_, where shall our horses spend the time? The Gentleman
looking at _Tarlton_ at that question, suddenly answered, If it please
you, or them, let them walke a turne or two, or there is a faire
garden, let them play a game or two at bowles in the Alley: and
departs thence about his other businesse. _Tarlton_ commending the
sudden wit of the Steward, saith little. But my Steward, not quiet,
tels to the Gentlewomen above, how he had driven _Tarlton_ to a
_non plus_ with a jest, whereat they all did laugh heartily: which
a Serving man loving _Tarlton_ well, ranne and told him as much.
_Tarlton_, to adde fuell to the fire, and loth to rest thus put off
with a jest, goes away and gets two of the horses into the Garden,
& turnes them into the bowling Alley, who with their heeles made
havocke: being the Gentleman's only pastime. The Ladies above from a
window, seeing horses in the Garden Alley call the Knight, who cries
out to _Tarlton_, Fellow, what meanest thou? Nothing, Sir, saies
he, but two of my horses are at seven up, for a peck of Provender; a
foolish match that I made. Now they being in play at bowles, run, run,
your Steward may come after and cry rub, rub: at which, though they
smiled, yet the Steward had no thankes for his labour, to set the
horses to such an exercise, & they could not blame _Tarlton_, who did
but as he was bidden. But by this Jest, oates and hay, stable room and
all, was plenty.


  Fast bind, fast find: my Bible was well bound;    [81.]
  A Thiefe came fast, and loose my Bible found:
  Was't bound and loose at once? how can that be?
  'Twas loose for him, although 'twas bound for me.


[78.] One sayd a prodigall was like a brush that spent it self to make
others goe handsome in their Cloathes.


[61.] A little crooked Gentleman had lately taken a very fair house
to dwell in, and having nobly furnished it, he invites a friend of his
who was a very merry man to see it, and to judge of his bargaine: the
Gentleman asked him what rent he paid? The Crooked man answered him,
that he gave an hundred pounds for a fine, and fifty pounds a year.
Quoth his friend, I do not like your bargain. No! quoth the crooked
Man, I am told that it is a very good penny worth. I am not of their
mind, replyed his friend, for would any man be so mad to give fifty
pounds a year for a house, that he cannot stand upright in. So they
both laught, and went to dinner.


  Mistris _Marina_ 'mongst some gossips sate,      [5.]
  Where faces were the Subject of their Chat;
  Some look'd too pale, some seem'd too fiery red,
  Some brown, some black, and some ill fashioned.
  Good Lord (quoth she) you all are much to blame,
  Let's alone, and praise the maker of the same:
  Her Chamber maid, who heard her, standing by,
  Said, then love me, for that you know was I.


[82.] Myselfe caried an old fellow by water, that had wealth enough to
be Deputy of the Ward, and wit sufficient for a Scavenger; the water
being somewhat rough, hee was much afraid, and (in stead of saying his
prayers) he threatened me, that if I did drowne him, hee would spend a
hundred pound, but hee would see me hanged for it; I desired him to
be quiet and feare nothing, and so in little space I landed him at the
Beares Colledge on the Bank-side,[F. 134] (alias Paris Garden.)
Well (said he) I am glad I am off the water, for if the Boat had
miscarried, I could have swum no more than a Goose.

    [Footnote 134: Paris Garden, Southwark, was a famous place for
    bear-baiting and other sports.]


      One Goodman _Strong_  [12.]
      Said his Wife did long,
  And what was it for but Mackrill?
      But he told him no,
      It must not be so,
  She's well now, and that will make her ill.


[17.] There were three Brothers named _Buck_, and having venison, made
three Pasties; and one of those who were invited was nam'd _Cooke_,
and thinking to play upon the Brothers, said, Here is _Buck_, _Buck_,
_Buck_. True, says one of the Brothers, _Buck_ is good meat, but what
says the Proverb; _God sends meat, and the Devil sends Cooks_.


[4.] A Fool being very sick, and like to dye, one that went to see
him, went to comfort him, bidding him Chear up. _For if you dye_, says
he, _four proper Fellows shall carry you to Church_: _Ay but_, quoth
he, _I had rather by half go thither myself_.



THE WELSHMAN'S PRAISE OF WALES.


  I's not come here to tauke of _Prute_,    [83.]
  From whence the _Welse_ does take her Root;
  Nor tell long Pedigree of Prince _Camber_,
  Whose Linage would fill full a Shamber;
  Nor sing the Deeds of old Saint _Davy_,
  The Ursip of which would fill a Navy;
  But hark ye now for a liddel Tales
  Sal make great deal to the Credit of _Wales_:
    For hur will tudge your Ears,
    With the Praise of hur Thirteen Seeres,
    And make you as Clad and Merry,
    As Fourteen Pot of Perry.

  'Tis true was wear him _Shirkin Frieze_,
  But what is that? we have store of Sheize;

  And Got is plenty of Coates Milk,
  That sell him well, will buy him silk
  Enough to make him fine to Quarrel,
  At _Hereford Sizes_ in new _Apparel_.
  And get him as much Melmet perhap
  Sall give it a Face to his _Monmouth Cap_.
    But then the Ore of _Lemster_,
    By Cot is Uver a Sempster;
    That when he is Spun or Did
    Yet match him with her Thrid.

[Illustration]

  And this the Backs now, let us tell ye
  Of some Provisions for the Belly;
  As _Cid_ and _Gote_ and great _Gote's Mother_,
  And _Runt_ and _Cow_ and great _Cow's Uther_:
  And once but taste on the _Welse Mutton_,
  Your _Engliss Seeps_ not worth a Button;
  Then for your _Fisse_, shall shoose it your Dish,
  Look but about, and there's a _Trout_,
    A Salmon, Cor or Chevin,
    Will feed you Six or Seven,
    As taull Men as e'er Swagger
    With _Welse Club_ and long _Dagger_.

  But all this while was never think
  A word in praise of our _Welse_ Drink;
  Yet for aull that, is a Cup of _Bragat_,
  Aull _England_ Seer may cast his Cap at;
  And what you say to _Ale_ of _Webley_,
  Toudge him as well, you'll praise him Trebley.
  As well as _Metheglin_, or _Sider_, or _Meath_
  Sall sake it your Dagger quite out o' the Seath.
    And _Oate Cake_ of _Guarthenion_,
    With a goodly Leek or Onion,
    To give as sweet a rellis,
    As e'er did Harper _Ellis_.

  And yet is nothing now all this,
  If of our Musicks we do miss;
  With _Harp_ and _Pipes_ too and the _Croud_
  Must aull come in and tauk aloud.
  As loud as _Bangu_, _Davy's_ Bell,
  Of which is no doubt you have hear tell,
  As well as our louder _Wrexam_ Organ,
  Or rumbling Rocks in the Seer of _Glamorgan_,
    Where look you but in the Ground here,
    And you sall see a Sound there,
    That put her all togedder,
    Is sweet as Measure Pedder.


[52.] In Barnet was a young woman, that when her husband lay a dying,
sorrowed out of measure, for feare that shee should lose him. Her
father came to her, desiring her to be contented: for he had provided
her another husband, a far more handsome man. But she did not onely
continue in her sorrow, but was also greatly displeased, that her
father made any motion to her of any other husband. As soone as her
other husband was buried and the Sermon was done, and they were at
supper, between sobbing and weeping, shee rounded her father in the
eare, and said, Father, where is the young man that you told me should
bee my husband? for very shortly I purpose to be maried. At which her
father suddenly fell a laughing.


[82.] A Gallant in his youth was much addicted to dicing, and many
times when he had lost all his money, then hee would pawne his cloake,
and so goe home without either cloak or coyne, which grieved the Lady
his Mother very much: for remedy whereof, she caused all his doublets
(of what stuffe so ever) to be made with canvasse painted backes,
whereon were fashioned two fooles, which caused the Gentleman ever
after to keepe his cloake on his backe, for feare two of the three
should be discovered.


      I was took by a fly,    [12.]
      Says a Fish; but I deny
  That, for had he not took the fly
      At first in his mouth,
      He had not, in truth,
  Then have been tost up so high.


[52.] There was an unthrift in London, that had received of a Merchant
certain Wares, which came to fifty pounds, to pay at three moneths;
and at three moneths. But when he had it he consumed and spent it
all: so that at the six moneths end there was not any left to pay the
Merchant: Wherefore the Merchant arrested him. When he saw there was
no other remedy, but either to pay the debt, or go to prison, he sent
to a subtill Lawyer, and asked his Counsell how he might clear himself
of that debt. What wilt thou give me, (quoth he) if I do? Five marks
(quoth the other) and here it is: and as soon as you have done, you
shall have it. Well, said the Lawyer, but thou must be ruled by my
counsell, and do thus: When thou commest before the Judge, whatsoever
he saith unto thee, answer thou nothing, but cry Bea, still, and let
me alone with the rest. So when he came before the Judge, he said to
the Debter, Dost thou owe this Merchant so much money? Bea (quoth
he). What, beast? (quoth he) answer to that I aske thee. Bea (quoth he
again.) Why, how now? quoth the Judge, I think this fellow hath gotten
a sheeps tongue in his head: for he answereth in the sheeps language.
Why, Sir, quoth the Lawyer, do you think this Merchant that is so wise
a man, would be so foolish, as to trust this Ideot with fifty pounds
worth of ware, that can speak never a word? No, Sir, I warrant
you--And he persuaded the Judge to cast the Merchant in his own suit.
And so the Judge departed, and the Court brake up. Then the Lawyer
came to his Client, and asked him his Money, since his promise was
performed, and his debt discharged. Bea (quoth he.) Why, thou needs't
not cry Bea any longer, but pay me my money. Bea, (quoth he again).
Why thou wilt not serve me so, I hope, (quoth the Lawyer) now I have
used thee so kindly? But nothing but Bea could Master Lawyer get for
his paines, and so was faine to depart with a flea in his eare.


  _Dolens_ doth shew his purse, and tels you this,    [5.]
  It is more horrid than a Pest-house is;
  For in a Pest-house many mortals enter,
  But in his purse, one angell dares not venture.


[61.] An old merry Parson that lived in the old merry dayes, being a
little purblined by being a very good fellow that would alwayes pay
his Clubb,[F. 135] having sat up late on the Satterday night, was a
little unfitted in his eyes to read right the next morning; turned to
a Chapter in _Exodus_, the beginning of the Chapter began thus, _And
God told Moses_ &c, but, his eyes failing him, like a true Clubber he
read thus, _And the Lord told Noses_[F. 136] &c--

    [Footnote 135: _i.e._ His share of the liquor consumed.]

    [Footnote 136: Counted heads, so that all should pay their due
    proportion.]


[78.] Two Gentlemen talking in latin, in the presence of a woman,
she grew jealous that they spake of her, and desired them to speake
english that she might answer them, for she said she was perswaded
when men spake latin, although they spake but two words, that
still one of them was naught: where upon one of the Gentlemen sayd
presently, _Bona mulier_,[F. 137] she replyed, I know _bona_ is good,
but I'le warrant ye the other word meanes something that's nought.

    [Footnote 137: _Good woman._]



The

Young-Man & Maidens Forecast;

shewing how

They Reckon'd their _Chickens_ before they were Hatcht.


To the Tune of, _The Country Farmer_, Or _The Devonshire Damosels_.

This may be Printed R. P.


  I'll tell you a Jest of a Provident Lass,      [84.]
  Whose Providence prov'd her a Provident Ass;
  She laid forth her store in such brittle Ware,
  That very small profit did fall to her share;
  Thirteen to the Dozen of Eggs she would buy,
  And set a Hen over them carefully;
  As long as she went her footing she watch'd,
  She counted her Chickens before they were Hatch'd.

  Said she, if these Chickens five Capons do prove,
  Capons be Meat which Gentlemen love;
  Those Chickens she would sell to buy a Sow-Pig,
  That it might have young ones e're it was big;
  Then with her Pigs she would have an Ewe,
  It may have Lambs not kill'd with the Dew;
  And, as she was thinking to buy her a Calf,
  Her Heels they flew from her a Yard and a half.

  Her Heels kiss'd the ground, and up flew her Leggs,
  Down came her Basket, and broke all her Eggs;
  There lay her Pigs, her Chickens, her Lambs,
  She could not have young ones unless she had Dams;
  Thus Fortune did frown by a fall that she catcht,
  Her Chickens prov'd Addle, before they were Hatcht:
  Attend but a while, and I'le briefly declare,
  Bad fortune did likewise fall to the Man's share.

  And now the Man to the Market will go,
  To see what Dame Nature on him will bestow;
  He bought him five Eggs, thinking to Thrive,
  And thus did the business finely contrive;
  Said he, if these Eggs five Cocks they will frame,
  And most of them prove to be Cocks of the Game,
  So soon as their Spurs are long enough grown,
  Then I may ingross a Cock Pit of my own.

[Illustration]

  Then may I have Gallants of every sort,
  Both Lords, Knights and Squires, and all to see sport,
  If they Fight bravely these Gallants to please,
  I may come to get Means by the rearing of these:
  And when I have done, I'll get me a rich Wife,
  That I may live happy all days of my Life;
  And in the Church we will be loving matcht,
  But count not your Chickens before they are Hatcht.

  And when he came home he set his Eggs by,
  He could not get up, the Roost was so high;
  But fetching a Ladder, that unhappy time,
  It was his hard luck with his Eggs for to Climb;
  These Ladders prove fatal to many a Man,
  And are undone by them now and then;
  So was this poor Man undone by a Fall,
  Down comes the Basket, Man, Eggs and all.

  There lay the poor Man with a fall almost Lame,
  His Cock-Pits and Gallants, and Cocks of the Game;
  The loosing of this grieved him to the Life,
  Yet the grief it was more in the loss of his Wife;
  All you young Men live vertuous Lives,
  And think to get Portions now by your Wives;
  Take warning by me before you are Matcht,
  _Pray count not your Chickens before they be Hatcht_.

FINIS.

Printed for _P. Brooksby_ at the _Golden Ball_ in _Pye Corner_ near
_West Smithfield_.


[17.] In _Ireland_, a Bag-piper coming for _England_ with his Snapsack
on his shoulder, as he sate at dinner in a wood, three Wolves began to
accost him; then he threw one bread, and another meat, and still they
crept nearer to him; Upon which, being afraid, he took his bagpipes
and began to play, at which noise the Wolves all ran away: A pox take
you, says he, If I had known you had loved Musick so well, you should
have had it before dinner.


[26.] A man was condemned the last Sessions to be hang'd for a
Robbery; but before and after he was condemned, his careful, dear, and
loving wife bid him take no care; for she had took care that he should
not die; which made the man live more dissolutely than he would have
done, but for his wife's confidence; which Confidence she continued
to him till the night before he was to be hang'd; and then she came to
him and told him, That all the great Promises made to her were come to
nothing; for she could not procure him a Pardon by any means whatever;
which put the poor man into such a Grief and Trembling that he was
scarce himself. Come, husband, says she, take Heart, for though I
cannot get you a Pardon, yet I'll tell you what I'll do for you; I
will make you an excellent Cawdle tonight, which will make you sleep
well, and another to morrow morning to comfort up your heart before
you are hang'd: for truly I believe it troubles you as well as me,
that I could not get your pardon; therefore pass it by this once; but
if ever you come to be hang'd again, I'll warrant you, I'll get you
pardon.


      Says a man nam'd _John_,      [12.]
      In every place the Sun
  Does rise every Morning soon;
      'Tis not so, in every place,
      For my Son t' his disgrace,
  Never rises till the Afternoon.


[52.] A Gentleman of Norfolk, as he was riding towards London in the
Winter time, and sitting by the fire side with his Host, untill supper
could be made ready, there happened a Rabbit to be at the fire a
rosting, which the Gentleman perceived to bee very leane, as he
thought. Quoth he unto his Host, We have Rabbits in our Country, that
one will drip a pottle, and baste itselfe. The In-keeper wondred with
himselfe, and did think it to be a lie, but would not say so, for
manners sake, and because he was his guest: but, thinking to requite
him, Now truely, quoth he, it is very strange: but I can tell you of
as strange a thing as that: Which the Gentleman was desirous to heare.
Quoth he, I had as fine a Grayhound as any was in England: and if I
had happened to goe abroad to my grounds, the Grayhound would alway go
with me. And sometime there would start out a Hare before me, which my
Grayhound would quickly catch. It fortuned that my dogge died, and for
very love that I bare to him, I made me a bottle of his skin, to carry
drinke withall, So, one time in hay harvest, my folkes being making of
hay in my grounds, and the weather being hot, I filled my bottle with
Beere, to carry to them, lest they should lack drink. And as I was
going along, there starts a Hare out of a bush before me: and as it
was my custome, I cryed, Now, now, now. My bottle leaping from my
girdle, ran and catcht the Hare. What, (quoth the Gentleman) me thinks
that should be a lie. Truly sir, said the In-keeper, so did I think
yours was. The Gentleman perceiving that he was requited for his
kindnesse, held himselfe contented.


  _Jack_ drink away      [85.]
  Thou hast lost a whole Minute,
  Hang Wenches and Play;
  There's no pleasure in it.
  Faith take t'other glass
  Though the Nights old and grey,
  We may all have a pass
  To the Grave before day.
  And in the cold forsaken Grave,
  There's no drink, _Jack_, no drink,
  No wine nor women, can we have:
  No Company but Worms that stinck.
  Then name thy own health and begin it.


[86.] The beginning of our late unnaturall broyles, was, among other
causes imputed chiefly to the imposition of Ship-money, for which
Mr _Hambden_ was condemned in the Exchequer in a penall Sume by the
consent of ten of the judges, who gave their opinion that that Taxe
was legal, only Judge _Hutton_, and Judge _Crook_ declared against it,
so that a stop was put to the levying of it, whereupon a Countryman,
no friend to the prerogative, said Wittily, The King may get
Ship-money by _Hooke_, but not by _Crook_; but since that time other
taxes ten times heavyer have been taken from us by _Hook_ and _Crook_
together.


[17.] A Country Farmer being sick, he and his Wife came to a Doctor,
who advised him to drink Asses Milk and Sugar every morning, but if
you can get no Asses milk come to me and I'll help you to some: says
his Wife to him, pray _do you think that the Doctor gives suck?_


[61.] There was a Gentleman whose onely study and practice was
Manhood, as football playing, Wrastling, Pitching the ball, throwing
of Weights, Riding, and Fencing, in which active practises he was so
perfect, that he over match'd all men that came neer him, insomuch,
that he was the Glory of the _West of England_, and he was the
Conqueror of all men that came to him, and grew froward that he could
not find any man fit to match him, but it happened that one day after
hunting, at a drinking Match in an Ale house, by chance he met a
_North Countryman_ who was highly extolling a great Gamester like
himself in the _North_, who performed all exercises that were manly,
and a person that was an over commer of all that durst engage him. The
_Western_ Gentleman desired his name and habitation, which was soon
told him. But when he heard it, he was impatient of further delay,
and therefore in order for a Journey to him he provided himself of
all conveniences, and rid into the North, where with little enquiry he
found the Gentleman's house, and knocking at the gate, he was
informed by a Servant that his Master was in his Parke a mile off. The
Traveller returned thanks, and with his Horse in his hand (guided by
the Servants direction) he went to him, where he found him mending of
a pale. Now take notice that this _North Country_ Gentleman was a very
stout man, but of very few words; and the _Western_ Gentleman of as
many, who thus began to accost him: Sir, I have intelligence that you
are the stoutest man in all the _North_, and I am as highly reputed in
the _West_, which hath provoked me to find you out, that we may trye
both our strength and our skill, so far that fortune and time may
Crown one of us, the only glorious man in _England_. The _North_
Countryman was still at his worke: but heard distinctly all that he
said: but returned no answer, onely when the other had ended speaking,
and expected a reply the _North_ Countryman comes fairly to him,
puts his hand under his twist,[F. 138] and pitcheth him over the Park
pales; the _West_ Country man seeing him do that so easily, began to
think there was no contending with him, and therefore very civilly,
with his Hat in his hand, gave him a return in these words, I thank
you, Sir, heartily. Pray throw my Horse over too.

    [Footnote 138: Cotgrave says "twist" answers to the French
    "fourchure," a fork, or division, _i.e._ he caught hold of him
    between his legs.]


  Be not wroth _Cotta_, that I not salute thee,      [5.]
  I us'd it whilst I worthy did repute thee;
  Now thou art made a painted Saint, and I,
  _Cotta_, will not commit Idolatry.


[4.] A Lusty young Man in _Somersetshire_, after he had been Married
about four Months, grew very Lean and Feeble, so that he cou'd hardly
crawl a long; He, one day, seeing a Butcher run over a Plough'd Field
after a Mad Bull, ask'd him the reason of it. Why, says the Butcher
it is to Tame him: O, says the Fellow, Let him be Married, let him be
Married; if that don't Tame him, I'll be hang'd.



The Scolding WIFE.


To a pleasant New Tune.


  There was a young man for lucre of gain      [87.]
    he lov'd a Widow well,
  His friends did tell him often and plain,
    in scolding she did excel.

  Why that is no matter, quoth he,
    so I may have her Bags of Gold,
  Let her not spare to Brawl and Scold,
    for I'll be as merry, as merry can be.

  This Woodcock wedded his hearts desire,
    a Widow with Money enough;
  They was not so soon out of the Quire,
    ee'r she began to snuff.[F. 139]

  Methink you be very fine,
    you can no quicker get you hence,
  Without such large and great expence,
    of Sugar'd Sops and Musick to dine.

  They was not all at supper set,
    or at the board sate down,
  E'er she began to brawl and scold,
    and call'd him a peaking Clown:

  That nothing could he doe
    that was pleasing in her sight,
  But still she scolded day and night,
    which made this merry man's heart full of woe.

[Illustration]

  If he had provided any good cheer,
    for him and her alone,
  Then she wou'd a said, with words more hot,
    you might a done this of your own;

  If sparingly he will be,
    then she would have said, with words more hot,
  I will not be pinch'd of what I brought,
    but of mine own I will be free.

  That nothing he could doe,
    that was pleasing in his sight
  But still she scolded day and night,
    which made this merry man's heart full of woe.

  A hundred times he curst
    the Priest, the Clerk, the Sexton too.
  And tongue that did the Widow wooe
    and legs that brought him first.

  It fell out upon a day
    that with his friends he did devise
  To break her of her scolding guise,
    and what they did they shall be wary;

  They got and tyed her Arms,
    she could not them undoe.
  And many other pretty Charms
    they used her unto.

  Her Petticoat was rent and torn,
    upon her Back they did put on,
  They tore her smock sleeves all along,
    as if a Bedlam she had been born;

  Her hair about her head they shook,
    all with a Bramble bush.
  They ring her Arms in every crook
    till out the blood did gush,

  And with an Iron Chain
    fast by the leg he did her tye
  There within an old dark House by;
    so soon he went away again;

  And with a countenance so sad
    he did his Neighbours call.
  Quoth he my Wife is Mad,
    she doth so rave and brawl;

  Help Neighbours all therefore,
    to see if that you can reclaim,
  My Wife into her Wits again
    for she is troubled wondrous sore.

FINIS.

Printed for B. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pye Corner.

    [Footnote 139: To take umbrage.]


[82.] A Cardinall of Rome had a goodly faire house new built, but the
broken brickes, tiles, sand, lime, stones, and such rubbish as are
commonly the remnants of such buildings, lay confusedly in heapes
and scattered here and there: The Cardinall demanded of his Survayor
wherefore the rubbish was not conveyed away: The Survayor said that
he proposed to hyre an hundred Carts for the purpose. The Cardinall
replyed that the charge of Carts might be saved, for a pitt might bee
digged in the ground and bury it. My Lord, said the Survayor, I pray
you what shall wee doe with the earth which we digge out of the said
pit? Why, thou Coxcombe, said the Cardinall, canst thou not dig the
pit deepe enough, and bury all together?


[77.] At _Salisbury_, _Tarlton_ & his fellowes were to play before
the Maior & his brethren: but one of his company (a yong man) was so
drunke, that he could not; whereat _Tarlton_, as mad angry, as he was
mad drunke, claps me on his legs a huge pair of bolts.[F. 140] The
fellow dead asleepe, felt nothing. When all was done, they convayed
him to the Jayle on a Man's back, and intreated the Jailer to doe
God good service, and let him lye there til he waked. While they were
about their sport, the felow waked, & finding himselfe in durance,
& the Jaile hung round with bolts and shackles, he began to blesse
himselfe, & thought sure in his drunkennesse hee had done some
mischiefe. With this hee called to know, but none came to him; then
hee thought verily his fault was capitall, and that hee was close
prisoner. By and by comes the Keeper, and mooved him, that one so yong
should come to so shamefull a death as hanging. Anon, another comes,
and another with the like, which further put him in a puzzle. But
at last comes _Tarlton_ and others, intreating the Keeper, yet if it
might bee, that they might see their fellow ere they went. But hee
very hardly was intreated. But at length the poore drunken Signior
cald out for them. In they come. Oh _Tom_, saies _Tarlton_, hard was
thy hap, in drunkennes to murder this honest man, and our hard hap
too, to have it reported, any of our company is hang'd for it. O God,
O God saies the fellow, is my fault so great? then commend me to all
my friends. Well, short tale to make, the fellow forswore drunkennes,
if hee could escape, and by as cunning a wile (to his thinking) they
got him out of prison by an escape, and sent him to London before, who
was not a little glad to be gone. But see how this iest wrought: by
little and little the fellow left his excessive drinking, and in time
altered his desire of drunkennes.

    [Footnote 140: Shackles or fetters.]


      A Barber left handed      [12.]
      Trim'd so well, that he bandy'd[F. 141]
  With all the Barbers in the _Strand_,
  For he trims dextrously;[F. 142]
      But that I deny,
  'Cause he does it with his left hand.

    [Footnote 141: Was at feud. _Minsheu_ gives its meaning "to
    join in a faction" and its equivalent in French as "bander,"
    "mutiner." _Fleming_ translates "bander" "to rise--to band
    against one."]

    [Footnote 142: Dexter, _Lat._, right hand.]


[17.] _John_ came to _Thomas_ his house to speak with him: but
_Thomas_ came to the door, and bid his Maid say he was not at home,
which _John_ overheard; Two or three days after, _Thomas_ came to
speak with _John_, and _John_ looks out a window, and told him he was
not at home: Why do you say so? do I not see you at home? Hey day,
says _John_, I believed your Maid you were not at home and you will
not believe me my own self.


[78.] One said a tooth drawer was a kind of unconscionable trade
because his trade was nothing else but to take away those things
whereby every man gets his living.


[61.] There was a Gentleman who had been very smartly drinking at the
Feathers Tavern in _Cheapside_, where there is a very long entry from
the street door to the Bar, and a drinking roome by the way where were
many civill persons with their wives at supper, but their door was
only shut to and not latched; and this Gentleman staggering thorough,
reeld against this door, and fell head long into the Room, to the
sudden astonishment of the Company, who rise up and demanded the
reason of that rudenesse; the poor Gentleman with very much adoe got
up, and staggering with his hat in his hand he made hard shift to cry
them all mercy in these words, Gentlemen and Ladyes, I pray excuse my
boldnesse, and consider I am not the first that have fallen into ill
Company.


The following throws much light on the habits of people in the reign
of Charles II., and is valuable as it shows a phase of life not often
depicted.


[85.] _A Lampoon on the_ Greenwich _Strowlers_.

  Oh! assist me you Powers, who have Rhimes at command,
  For I faith I've a weighty business in hand.
  Of the late _Greenwich_ Strowlers I'me now going to sing,
  But all things in order--first, God save the King.

  Hem; hem; now put we off to the matter,
  On _Easter_ Sunday, the Raskals took water;
  Where landing at _Greenwich_, they agreed that a share
  Should be settled o' th' Sculler, instead of his fare.

  Then up they march'd to the sign of the Bull,
  Where asking for Lodging, quoth the folks we are ful.
  But we'el see for some for you, and so with that wheadle,
  Ud's lid, exit's the Landlord, and enter the Beadle.

  With that their Chief Actor begins for to bristle,
  Quoth he, p'shaw waw, let the Beadle go whistle,
  For I can; and he did, too, produce straight a Pattent,
  That had the King's Hand and Seal, and all that in't.

  Well this rub of fortune is over; but stay,
  They call for a Reckning, theres six Pence to pay.
  Now mark how damn'd fortune these Strowlers do's cozen,
  They pawn all their stock to pay the half dozen.

  But promising th' Host that he should Tricket free,
  See their Plays every day, and his whole family.
  He releases 'em straight, and now all the rabble
  Marcht up to go lye in their Play house,--a Stable.

       *       *       *       *       *

       *       *       *       *       *

  I confess they had never a Scene at all,
  They wanted no copy, they had th' original.
  For the Windowes being down, and most part of the roof,
  How could they want Scenes when they had prospect enough.

  Now we will suppose that _Munday_ is come,
  And the Play is proclaymed by beat of a Drum.
  Faith, now you're supposing, let it be _Tuesday_ morn,
  For of _Monday_, I know no more than the child unborn.

  It's said that they Acted not upon _Monday_,
  Something was wanting, and so they lost one day.
  They send unto _London_, what's lacking is gotten,
  And so on the next day, w'ye all things did cotten.

  The Prizes they took, were a Londoners groat,
  A Gentleman's size,[F. 143] but his skipkennel's[F. 144] pot.
  The Townsmen they let in for drink and good chear,
  The School boys for peace, and the Seamen for fear.

  On _Tuesday_ at three a clock I was we'e 'em,
  I kist their doorkeeper, and went in to see 'em.
  Being enter'd an Actor[F. 145] straight brought me a stool,
  Hee'd a held my cloak too, but I wa'nt such a fool.

  The first that appear'd, when I was come in,
  With her train to her ankles, was who but the Queen.
  She civilly made me a curtsy and straight,
  Retired to sit on her Fagots of state.

  Then in came the King with a Murtherous mind,
  Gainst his new married Queen, which when I did find,
  I call'd him a side, and whispering in's Ear,
  Desired him to fetch me a Flagon of Bear.

  There's twelve pence, said I, take the rest for your pains,
  Your Servant said he, Sir, sweet Mr _Haines_.
  His Majesty, faith, I must needs say was civil,
  For he took up his Heels, and ran for't like a Devil.

  Meantime I addrest myself to his Bride,
  And took her unto the tireing House side;
  A hay loft it was which at a dead lift,
  Instead of a better serv'd then for a shift.

  But mark the Fate of her Civility,
  The Players did rant both at her and me:
  And therefore because for fear she'd be lack'd
  I ordred the Drummer to beat a long Act.

  He beat and he beat, but no Queen appear'd,
  He beat till at length the house was all clear'd:
  By my Troath a sad loss, but to make 'em amends,
  I threw 'em a Crown, and we were all Friends:
  And so this Renowned History ends.

    [Footnote 143: Sixpence--the 6 on dice being called "size."]

    [Footnote 144: Footman or footboy.]

    [Footnote 145: This is an allusion to the custom of the
    gallants sitting on stools on the stage, so frequently spoken
    of by the dramatists of the sixteenth century. Indeed Queen
    Anne found it necessary to issue two proclamations forbidding
    people other than actors to go on the stage.]


[52.] A Gentleman upon a time having a man that could write and read
well, rebuked him one day for idlenesse, saying, If I had nothing to
do, like thee, I would to recreate my wit, set down all the fooles I
knew. The fellow, making little answer, tooke his pen and inke, and
as his Master had wished him, fell to setting down a Catalogue of the
fooles that he was well acquainted with: among whom, and first of all,
he set down his Master, who, reading his name, would needs know the
nature of his folly; Marry, quoth he, In lending your Cozen twenty
pound this other day: for I think he will never pay you. Yea but
(quoth his Master) what if he do pay me? Then (quoth his man) I will
put out your name, and put down his for a foole.


[20.] A Gentleman in _North Wales_ was standing in a Sunshiny day,
upon a high rock near the Sea-Side in those parts; and as he was
looking about, he saw an Island some Four miles from the shore or
there abouts, upon which Island he spy'd two Hares playing one with
another: Well, says he, are you got over there now; for I am sure I
cours'd you both yesterday with my two Greyhounds, and then you shew'd
me a trick, but now I'll shew you one. So he went immediately home,
and fetch't his two Greyhounds, and a great Morter piece which he had
of a Thousand pound weight, which he fastened between the two Dogs
Necks; but he was forced to fasten a Cord to it also, lest the Dogs
might run away with it; and when they had carry'd it to the Rock
aforesaid, he charg'd the Morter piece, and presently the two
Greyhounds slipt into it (for it seems they had been used to it) which
two Greyhounds he ram'd in very well, and then discharg'd the Morter
piece with no hurt at all to the Greyhounds (for you must know he shot
with white Powder) and it so happened that says he, I protest t'ye
Gentlemen (upon my honest word and Credit 'tis true) that the two
Greyhounds each lighted upon a Hare as they were playing, and then
kill'd 'em and immediately left the Island, and swam through the Sea
with the Hares in their mouths, which were one boil'd and t'other
roasted for my dinner. One ask't him what colour his Greyhounds were?
He swore they were both black before, but the White Powder did so
Change their Colour, that they were both turn'd grey; and so from them
all of their kind were called Grey hounds, for their sakes to this
day. They told him they thought this probable enough to be improbable.
O Gentlemen, says he far be it from me to tell you a lie, for if you
won't believe me, pray ask my Dogs.


_Upon Thorough-good, an unthrift._

  Thy Sirname _Thorough-good_ befitteth thee,     [5.]
  Thou _Thorough-good_, and good goes thorough thee,
  Nor thou in good, nor good in thee doth stay,
  Both of you thorough goe, and pass away.


[77.] _Tarlton_ having been domineering[F. 146] very late one night,
with two of his friends, and comming homewards along Cheapeside, the
Watch being then set, Master Constable asked, Who goes there? Three
merry men, quoth _Tarlton_. That is not sufficient, What are you? quod
M. Constable. Why, saies _Tarlton_, one of us is an eye maker, and the
other a light maker. What saiest thou, knave, doest mocke me? the one
is an eye maker, the other a light maker, which two properties belong
unto God onely: commit these blasphemers, quoth the Constable. Nay,
I pray you, good M. Constable, be good in your Office, I will approve
what I have said to be true, qd. _Tarlton_. If thou canst, saies the
Constable, you shall passe, otherwise you shall be all three punished.
Why (qd. _Tarlton_) this fellow is an eye maker, because a Spectacle
maker, and this other a maker of light, because a Chandler, that makes
your darkest night as light as your Lanthorn. The Constable, seeing
them so pleasant, was well contented. The rest of the Watchmen
laughed: & Tarlton with his two Companions went home quietly.

    [Footnote 146: Roystering.]


[78.] One perswaded his friend to marry a little woman because of
evils the least was to be chosen.

[26.] A crafty Fellow being extremely in debt, and being threatened by
his Creditors, that they would have him, if he was above ground,
got himself into a Cellar, and there lay with the Tapster; and being
reproved for so doing, he told them there's no fear of catching him
there, because 'twas underground, and they durst not break their
Oaths, because they swore they would have him above Ground.



THE

UNFORTUNATE FENCER;[F. 147]

or

_The Couragious Farmer of_ Gloucester-shire

shewing

How this huffing Spark went down into those Parts, Challenging any one
at all sorts of Weapons; and at length (was) shamefully Conquer'd by a
Country Farmer.


To the Tune of _The Spinning Wheel_.

Licensed according to Order.


  You that delight in merriment,    [88.]
    be pleased attend a while,
  I hope to give you all content,
    this very Song will make you smile;
  'Tis of a Fencer brave and bold,
    adorn'd with rich embroider'd Gold.

  This Spark in pomp, and rich array,
    from _London_ rid with right good will,
  That he young Lords might learn to play
    all sorts of Weapons by his skill;
  And whereso e'er this Fencer came,
    the drum, and trumpet blaz'd his fame.

  This huffing Fencer, fierce and Stout,
    to _Gloucester_ City did repair,
  And for a Sign he then hung out
    a Sword of grand Defiance there;
  The which a Farmer did espy,
    as he by Chance was passing by.

  The jolly Farmer brisk and bold,
    as soon as he the Sword beheld,
  He cry'd what is there to be sold?
    what! is your Room with Rapiers fill'd?
  The Valiant Fencer did reply
    I come my Valour here to try.

[Illustration]

  With that he did his Rapier shake,
    and said let who will here arrive,
  I do a noble Challenge make,
    to fight the stoutest man alive:
  The Farmer said I'll answer thee,
    if that you dare to Cope with me.

  The Fencer cry'd, you sorry knave,
    here by this Rapier in my hand,
  I'll send the to thy silent Grave,
    against my force no Clown can stand;
  It shall be try'd the Farmer cry'd,
    I value not your huffing Pride.

  Next Morning they a Stage prepare,
    the drums did beat and trumpets sound,
  Right joyfull tydings to declare,
    this Gallant trac'd the City round,
  Dress'd in his Shirt of Holland fine,
    with Sword that did like Silver shine.

  The Stage he mounted brisk and gay,
    and eke the Farmer straight likewise;
  To whom the Huffing Spark did say,
    of you I'll make a Sacrifice;
  This work in short I will compleat,
    you should have brought a Winding Sheet.

  No more of that, but let's fall to,
    I hope to make my Party good;
  And e'er this World I bid adieux,
    who knows but I may let you blood;
  With that he cut him o'er the Face,
    and thus began the Spark's Disgrace.

  But when they came to Quarter Staff,
    the Farmer bang'd the Spark about;
  Which made all the Spectators laugh,
    and with Huzzas they all did shout;
  He made his Head and Shoulders sore,
    he ne'er had been so thrash'd before.

  Thus fairly did he win the day,
    which put the Fencer in a Rage,
  Who through the Crowd did sneak away,
    while the stout Farmer kept the Stage;
  Huzzas of joy did echo round,
    while he with Victory was Crown'd.

FINIS.

Printed for P. Brooksby,[F. 148] J. Deacon,[F. 149] J. Blare,[F. 150]
J. Back.[F. 151]

    [Footnote 147: For tune, see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 148: Philip Brooksby had two shops,--one, the Golden
    Ball, near Bear Tavern, in West Smithfield; the other, Harp
    and Ball, also Golden Ball, in Pye Corner.]

    [Footnote 149: J. Deacon lived at the Rainbow, near David's
    Inn, or St. Andrew's Church, Holborn.]

    [Footnote 150: Josiah Blare's shop was the Looking Glass, on
    London Bridge.]

    [Footnote 151: John Back also lived on London Bridge, at the
    sign of the Black Boy.]


[86.] King _James_ with some of his Nobles having lost their way in a
_Forest_ in the persuit of a Deer, came at last a hungry to the side
of the same _Forest_ where they espied a little House; thither hyed
the King, and demanded first what victuals in the House, then with
some comfortable leysure the way; the good wife sets before the King
a good piece of powdered[F. 152] Beefe and a bag pudding, the King and
his Followers fell to eat heartily, & having contented his _hostess_
rid away: by the road side at some distance, a boy presents himself
scraping with his legs, bare headed, whereon was a thick scald:
Sirrah, said the Lords, cover your head, have you never a Cap? where
do you dwell? In yonder Cottage an't please you (pointing to the place
where the King dined) I had a Cap yesterday, but to day my mother made
use of it for a pudding bag; Quoth the King, it did me no harme in the
eating, it shall do me lesse in thinking of it; come, put on, and let
us jog it down; but it stirred the stomacks of his Traine.

    [Footnote 152: Salted.]


[17.] One _Pace_ a bitter Jester in Queen _Elizabeth's_ daies, came to
Court: Come says the Ladies, _Pace_, we shall now hear of our faults:
No, says he, I don't use to talk of that which all the Towne talks of.


      One saw an Old Woman,      [12.]
      Which indeed is Common,
  With her nose to meet with her chin;
      'Tis strange, says he, me-thinks,
      For when that she drinks
  The De'el a drop can she get in.

      He was then told the cause,
      And what the reason was
  That her teeth were fell out, and her chin
      And Nose, like loving Neighbours,
      Think well of their Labours,
  To reconcile 'em agen.


[52.] A Worshipfull Gentleman in London, having on a time invited
divers of his friends to supper to his house, and being at supper,
the second course comming in, the first was one of the Gentleman's own
men, bringing a Capon; and by chance, stumbling at the portall door,
the Capon flew out of the platter and ranne along the board to the
upper end of the table where the Master of the house sate, who making
a jest of it, said, By my faith it is well, the Capon is come first,
my man will come anon too, I hope. By and by came his man, and takes
up the Capon, and layes it in the platter, and sets it on the board.
I thank you Sir, quoth his Master, I could have done so my self. I,
quoth his man, it is an easie matter, sir, for one to do a thing when
he sees it done before his face.


[17.] Some Tylers working on the top of the house, one by chance dropt
down through the rafters; Says one, I like such a Fellow dearly, for
he is one that goes through his work.


[26.] Another swore, that he in his Travels round about the World,
which he had encompast Three times and half in Seven years time, but
could not finish the other half, because he fell very Sick, and so
was forc't to return back agen; and in his return, he came to a King's
Court, but I cannot for my life remember the place, because I have
been in so many; and there, says he, I saw a Lute of a very great
bigness, and Thirty Ells long, bating only three inches, and Three
broad, and swore that the least string upon it was bigger than his
Thumb. Then they askt him how it possibly could be plaid on? He
told them that a Man and his Wife that were Gyants (of which there's
abundance in that Country) had Two large Iron Bows, made each with
Eight Feet like Gridirons, with which he, and his dear Consort (which
I think is the best name for her now, in regard of that Musick) scrat
ore the strings; that is, she on the Treble part, and He on the Bass,
whilst Eight great Mastiff Dogs ran up and down the Frets of the Lute,
with their bare feet, and stopt directly in Tune as they plaid; (but
you must conceive that these dogs were bred up to't, or else 'twere a
thing impossible) to the admiration of all strangers that were there;
and the Case of that Lute served for a kennel for the Eight Dogs
to lie in: but it seems 'tis common with them there, for they made
nothing of it; and this he made good by whole Volleys of thundering
Oaths.


[5.] A fat house keeper makes leane Executors. The Devill is not
alwaies at one doore. He puls with a long rope, that waights for
anothers death.



  Come buy this new Ballad, before you doe goe;
  If you raile at the Author, I know what I know.


To the Tune of, _Ile tell you but so_.

[Illustration]


  It is an old saying      [89.]
    that few words are best,
  And he that sayes little,
    shall live most at rest:
  And I by experience
    doe finde it right so,
  Therefore Ile spare speech,
    but I know what I know.

  Yet shall you perceive well,
    though little I say,
  That many enormities
    I will display:
  You may guesse my meaning
    by that which I show,
  I will not tell all
    but I know &c.

  There be some great climbers
    compos'd of ambition,
  To whom better-born men
    doe bend with submission:
  Proud Lucifer climbing
    was cast very low,
  Ile not stay these men.
    but I know &c.

  There be many Foxes
    that goe on two legges,
  They steale greater matters
    than Cocks, Hens and Egges;
  To catch many Guls
    in Sheepes cloathing they goe
  They might be destroy'd
    but I know &c.

  There be many men
    that Devotion pretend,
  And make us beleeve
    that true Faith theyle defend:
  Three times in one day
    to Church they will goe,
  They cozen the world,
    but I know &c.

  There be many rich men
    both Yeomen and Gentry,
  That for their owne private gaine
    hurt a whole Countrey:
  By closing free Commons,
    yet they'le make as though
  Twere for common good,
    but I know &c.

  There be divers Papists
    that to save their Fine,
  Come to Church once a moneth
    to heare Service Divine:
  The Pope gives them power,
    as they say, to doe so
  They save money by't too
    but I know &c.

  There be many Upstarts
    that spring from the Cart,
  Who gotten to th' Court
    play the Gentleman's part:
  Their fathers were plaine men,
    they scorne to be so,
  They think themselves brave
    but I know &c.

  There be many Officers
    men of great place,
  To whom, if one sue
    for their favour and grace,
  He must bribe their servants
    while they make as though
  They know no such thing,
    but I know &c.

  There be many Women
    that seem very pure,
  A kisse from a stranger
    they'le hardly endure:
  They are like Lucretia,
    modest in show.
  I will accuse none,
    but I know &c.

  Likewise there be many
    dissembling men,
  That seeme to hate Drinking
    and Women, yet when
  They meet with a Wench
    to the Taverne they'le goe,
  They are civill all day
    but I know &c.

  There be many Batchelors
    that to beguile
  Beleeving kind Lasses,
    use many a wile,
  They all sweare that they love,
    when they meane nothing so,
  And boast of these tricks
    but I know &c.

  There's many an Usurer,
    that like a Drone,
  Doth idly live
    upon his moneys Lone:
  From Tens unto Hundreds
    his money doth grow,
  He sayes he doth good,
    but I know &c.

  There be many Gallants
    that goe in gay Rayment,
  For which the Taylor
    did never receive payment;
  They ruffle it out
    with a gorgeous show,
  Some take them for Knights,
    but I know &c.

  There be many Rorers
    that swagger and rore,
  As though they in the warres had been,
    seven yeeres or more:
  And yet they never lookt
    in the face of a Foe;
  They seeme gallant Sparkes
    but I know &c.

  There's many both Women
    and Men that appeare
  With beautifull Outsides
    the Worlds eyes to bleare:
  But all is not Gold
    that doth glister in show,
  They are fine with a Pox,
    but I know &c.

  There's many rich Trades-men
    who live by Deceit,
  And in Weight and Measure
    the poore they doe cheat,
  They'le not sweare an Oath
    but indeed, I, and No,
  They truly protest,
    but I know &c.

  There be many people
    so given to strife,
  That they'le goe to Law
    for a two-penny Knife,
  The Lawyers ne're aske them
    why they doe so,
  He gets by their hate,
    but I know &c.

  I know there be many
    will carpe at this Ballet,
  Because it is like
    sowre Sawce to their Pallet;
  But he, shee, or they,
    let me tell ere I goe,
  If they speak against this Song
    I know what I know.

FINIS.

Printed by the Assignes of Thomas Symcocke.[F. 153]

    [Footnote 153: Published in 1620, and assigned his patent the
    same year. He is also heard again of in 1642, when his patent
    was petitioned against, but unsuccessfully.]


[82.] A Proper Gentlewoman went to speak with a rich Mizer that had
more Gowt than good manners, at her taking leave hee requested her to
tast a Cup of Canara: Shee (contrary to his expectation) tooke him at
his word and thanked him. Hee commanded _Jeffrey Starveling_ his man,
to wash a glasse, and fill it to the Gentlewoman. Honest _Jeffrey_
fill'd a great glasse about the bignesse of two Taylors thimbles, and
gave it to his master, who kist it to save cost, and gave it to the
Gentlewoman, saying that it was good Canara of six yeeres old at the
least, to whom shee answered (seeing the quantity so small,) Sir, as
you requested me, I have tasted your wine, but I wonder that it should
be so little, being of such a great age.


[61.] There were two notable boon Companions which when they were met
were alwayes so indeared to each others Company that very seldom an
earlier houre than midnight could part them, but when they were drunk
they had two troublesome infirmities, _Jack_ could not goe nor _Will_
could not speak; therefore one night before they fell to drinking,
they made Articles of Agreement that when they were drunke _Will_
should carry _Jack_, and _Jack_ should speak for _Will_, and after
this agreement to drinking they went pell-mell, untill the one was
drunk, and the other lame: So after they had paid the Reckoning,
_Will_ takes up _Jack_ a pick-pack and carries him to _Ludgate_, and
being very weary sets him down in the dark close by the prison. The
Constable and Watch who were within the Gate hearing a bustle, called
out, saying, Who goes there? Come before the Constable. _Will_
could goe well enough, but could not speak, so he went over to the
Constable, who examined him whence he came, and why he was out so
late, and where he lived; to which _Will_ could answer nothing,
but make mouths: but _Jack_ having his tongue at liberty, as he was
sitting in the blind hole, cryes to the Constable, Sir, he cannot
speak. Upon that the Constable asked who was that which spake, and
commanded him to come before him; to which _Jack_ made answer, Sir, I
can't goe, at which the Constable and Watch laught; _Will_ took up his
load again and away they marcht.


_To his Quill._

  Thou hast been wanton, therefore it is meet,      [5.]
  Thou shouldst do penance--do it in a sheet.


[128.] Caricature of different religious sects. 1646.

[Illustration: _Adamite_]

[Illustration: _Seeker_]

[Illustration: _Arminian_]

[Illustration: _Diuorcer_]

[Illustration: _Anabaptist_]

[Illustration: _Iesuit_]


[78.] One said Physitians had the best of it, for, if they did well,
the world did proclaime it, if ill, the earth did cover it.


[77.] Upon a time, as _Tarlton_ and his Wife (as passengers) came
sailing from Southampton towards London, a mighty storme arose, and
endangered the Ship, whereupon, the Captaine thereof charged every man
to throw into the Sea the heaviest thing he could best spare, to the
end to lighten somewhat the Ship. _Tarlton_, that had his Wife there,
offered to throw her over-boord: but the company rescued her; and
being asked wherefore he meant so to doe? he answerd, She is the
heaviest thing I have, and I can best spare her.


[4.] A _Welshman_ that was condemned to be hanged, had the
benefit[F. 154] of Clergy granted to him, and so was burnt in the
Hand; which when it was doing, they bid him say. God bless the King.
Nay, says he, God bless hur Father and Mother; for if they had not
taught hur to read, hur might have been hanged for all the King.

    [Footnote 154: This plea was put in for mitigation of
    punishment, the person presumably being a clerk or learned
    person, exemplified by his being able to read, the punishment
    then being commuted to burning on the hand. In later days
    it became a farce, as a bribe would have the effect of being
    apparently branded with only a warm or cold iron.]


[4.] One asking a certain Person how his friend came off at the
Sessions House? he told him he was to be Burnt in the Hand; Pish, says
the other, that's a small matter; for, for a little Fee, the'll Burn
him in the Hand with a cold Iron.


  Marriage as old men note, hath likened bin      [5.]
  Unto a publique feast, or common route,
  Where those that are without, would fain get in,
  And those that are within would faine get out.


[26.] A Gentleman that had a great Wit, and well belov'd among the
great ones, and therefore invited often amongst them; but it seems had
a very sore Leg; he, being at a Noble mans Table, greedily cat'd at a
Goblet of Wine. Says my Lord to him, Prithee _Jack_ drink it not, for
'twill hurt thy Leg. O my Lord, says he, take no care for my Leg, for
I have care enough of that, for I always drink o' the t' other side.



The Cruell Shrow:[F. 155]

or

The Patient Mans Woe

  Declaring the misery, and the great paine
  By his unquiet wife he doth dayly sustaine.


To the Tune of _Cuckolds all arowe_.


[Illustration]


  Come Batchelors and Married Men,      [90.]
    and listen to my Song;
  And I will shew you plainely then,
    the injury and wrong
  That constantly I doe sustaine,
    by the unhappy life,
  The which does put me to great paine,
    by my unquiet Wife.

  Shee never linnes[F. 156] her bauling,
    her tongue it so loud,
  But alwaies shee'l be railing,
    and will not be contrould;
  For she the Briches still will weare,
    although it breedes my strife,
  If I were now a Batchelor,
    I'de never have a Wife.

  Sometime I goe i' th' morning
    about my dayly worke,
  My wife she will be snorting,
    and in her bed she'le lurke;
  Untill the Chimes doe goe at Eight,
    then she'le begin to wake,
  Her mornings draught well spiced straight,
    to cleare her eyes she'le take.

  As soon as shee is out of bed,
    her Looking Glass she takes,
  So vainely is she dayly led,
    her mornings worke she makes;
  In putting on her brave atyre,
    that fine and costly be,
  Whilst I worke hard in durt and mire,
    alacke what remedy.

  Then she goes forth a Gossiping,
    amongst her own Comrades,
  And then she falls a bowsing[F. 157]
    with her merry blades:
  When I come from my labour hard,
    then shee'le begin to scould,
  And calls me Rogue without regard,
    which makes my heart full cold.

  When I for quietnesse sake desire,
    my wife for to be still;
  She will not grant what I require,
    but sweares shee'le have her will;
  Then if I chance to heave my hand,
    straightway she'le murder cry;
  Then judge all Men that here do stand
    in what a Case am I.

  And if a Friend by chance me call,
    to drinke a pot of Beere;
  Then she'le begin to curse and brall,
    and fight and scratch and teare:
  And sweares unto my worke she'le send
    me straight without delay,
  Or else with the same Cudgels end,
    shee will me soundly pay.

  And if I chance to sit at meate
    upon some holy day,
  She is so sullen she will not eate,
    but vexe me ever and aye:
  She'le pout, and loure, and curse and bann,
    this is the weary life,
  That I do leade, poore harmlesse man,
    with my most dogged wife.

  Then is not this a pitteous Cause,
    let all men now it trie,
  And give their verdits by the Lawes,
    betweene my wife and I:
  And judge the Cause who is to blame,
    Ile to their Judgement stand,
  And be contented with the same
    and put thereto my hand.

  If I abroad goe any where,
    my businesse for to doe,
  Then will my Wife anone be there,
    for to encrease my woe;
  Straightway she such a noise will make,
    with her most wicked tongue,
  That all her Mates her part to take,
    about me soon will thronge.

  Thus am I now tormented still,
    with my most wicked Wife,
  All through her wicked tongue so ill
    I am weary of my life:
  I know not truely what to doe,
    nor how myselfe to mend:
  This lingring life doth breede my woe,
    I would 'twere at an ende.

  O that some harmlesse honest man,
    whom Death did so befriend,
  To take his Wife from of his hand,
    his sorrowes for to end:
  Would change with me to rid my care,
    and take my Wife alive,
  For his dead Wife unto his share,
    then I would hope to thrive.

  But so it likely will not be,
    that is the worst of all,
  For to encrease my dayly woe
    and for to breed my fall:
  My wife is still most froward bent,
    such is my lucklesse fate,
  There is no man will be content,
    with my unhappy state.

  Thus to conclude and made an ende
    of these my Verses rude,
  I pray all wives for to amende,
    and with peace to be endude:
  Take warning all men by the life
    that I sustained long,
  Be carefull how you chuse a Wife,
    and so Ile ende my Song.

FINIS.

_Arthur Halliarg._[F. 158]

London. Printed by _M. P._ for _Henry Gosson_[F. 159] on London Bridge
neere the Gate.

    [Footnote 155: For tune, see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 156: Ceases, or leaves off.]

    [Footnote 157: Drinking.]

    [Footnote 158: This ballad is supposed to be unique, and
    is the only known work of Halliarg, who is not mentioned by
    Hazlitt.]

    [Footnote 159: The date of this ballad in the Museum Catalogue
    is 1610 (?).]


[91.] A Bishop on a time examining one that sought to be admitted
into the ministery, asked him how many Sacraments there were; to which
question, he, after long pause, answered there were 9; Nine, quoth he,
how prove you that? Why, quoth hee, there are 7 beyond sea, and two in
_England_; at which the B. laughing at his ignorance, yet grieved for
his folly, sent him away as worthily frustrate of his expectation.


[4.] A Man being ask'd whether his friend _Tom_, that was lately dead,
had left him any Legacy? No, faith, says he, Not a Tester to drink his
health.


[26.] In the Wars in _Germany_, between the _Swedes_ and them, there
was so great a Frost one Winter, that Two Men desiring to talk with
one another, and one was on one side of the River, and t'other on the
other, and as they spoke one to another, the Frost was so great,
that it froze[F. 160] up their words, which was not audible then, nor
indeed (upon my reputation) could not be heard till Nine days after,
when it chanc'd to thaw: which one of the company hearing said 'twas
a brave Country to speak Treason in; for whatsoever a Man said, a Man
could not be heard; Nay, the very lowings of the Bulls and Cows were
froz'n up also, that the owners had much ado to find them to fodder
them, for want of hearing them as formerly. Nay, by your favour, says
another, there is another Country, which had as great a Conveniency to
speak Treason in as that had, from 1648 to 1660, and there one might
speak any sort of Treason, and was never call'd to an account for it:
Nay, the more Treason they spoke, they were the better esteem'd; so
that there was no need of a frost at that time in _England_.

    [Footnote 160: A somewhat similar story may be found
    previously, in _Rabelais_, and some sixty years subsequently,
    in _Baron Munchausen_.]


[52.] There was a notable drunkard of Rochester, whom his wife
perswaded as much as in her lay, to leave that Sinne; but the more she
spake the worse he was, and because she controuled him, he would all
to beat her, So she let him alone; and because his use was still to
stay out till almost midnight, she went to bed, and bad her Maid tary
up for him, and make a good fire: and the maid did as her Mistresse
commanded. One night when he came home the Maid let him in, and he
stood by the fire and warmed himself; but his head being too heavy for
his body, down he fell into the fire along. The Maid ranne crying,
Oh Mistresse, Mistresse, my Master is falne into the fire. No Matter,
Maid (quoth she) let him take his pleasure in his owne house, where he
will himselfe.


  A Gentleman not richest in discretion,      [4.]
  Was alwayes sending for his own phisition.
  And on a time he needs would of him know,
  What was the cause his pulse did go so slow?
  Why (quoth the Doctor) thus it comes to passe,
  Must needs go slow, which goes upon an asse.


[82.] An unhappy boy that kept his father's sheepe in the country, did
use to carry a paire[F. 161] of Cards in his pocket, and meeting with
boyes as good as himselfe would fall to Cards at the Cambrian game of
whip-her-ginny,[F. 162] or English one and thirty; at which sport,
hee would some dayes lose a sheepe or two: for which if his father
corrected him, hee (in revenge) would drive the sheepe home at night
over a narrow bridge, where some of them falling besides the bridge,
were drowned in the swift brooke. The old man being wearied with his
ungracious dealing, complained to a Justice, thinking to affright him
from doing any more the like. In briefe, before the Justice the youth
was brought, where (using small reverence, and lesse manners) the
Justice said to him, Sirrah, you are a notable villaine, you play
at Cards, and lose your father's sheepe at one and thirty. The Boy
replied that it was a lye. A lye, quoth the Justice, you saucy knave,
dost thou give me the lye? No, qd the boy, I gave thee not the lye,
but you told me the lye, for I never lost sheepe at one and thirty;
for when my game was one and thirty I alwayes wonne. Indeed, said the
Justice thou saist true, but I have another accusation against thee,
which is, that you drive your fathers sheepe over a narrow bridge
where some of them are oftentimes drowned: That's a lye too, quoth the
boy, for those that go over the bridge are well enough, it is onely
those that fall beside which are drowned: Whereto the Justice said to
the boys father, Old man, thou hast brought in two false accusations
against thy sonne for he never lost sheepe at one and thirty, nor were
there ever any drowned that went over the bridge.

    [Footnote 161: A pack.]

    [Footnote 162: The same author mentions this game again in
    "Taylors Motto," as also many other games then in vogue, the
    names of which are curious--

      "The Prodigall's estate, like to a flux,
      The Mercer, Draper, and the Silk man sucks;
      The Taylor, Millainer, Dogs, Drabs and Dice,
      Trey trip or Passage, or the Most at thrice;
      At Irish, Tick tacke, Doublets, Draughts or Chesse,
      He flings his money free with carelessnesse:
      At Novum, Mumchance, mischance (chuse ye which)
      At One and Thirty, or at Poore and rich,
      Ruffe, flam, Trump, noddy, whisk, hole, Sant, New Cut,
      Unto the keeping of foure Knaves he'l put
      His whole estate at Loadum, or at Gleeke,
      At Tickle me quickly, he's a merry Greeke,
      At Primefisto, Post and payre, Primero,
      Maw, Whip-her-ginny, he's a lib'rall _Hero_;
      At My-sow-pigg'd: and (Reader never doubt ye,
      He's skill'd in all games except) Looke about ye.
      Bowles, shove-groate, tennis, no game comes amiss,
      His purse a purse for any body is."
    ]



The

Unfortunate WELCH MAN

or

The Untimely Death of _Scotch_ Jockey.

  If her will Fight, her cause to right,
    as daring to presume
  To Kill and Slay, then well her may
    take this to be her Doom.


To the Tune of The _Country Farmer_.

This may be Printed _R.P._


  Stout _Shonny-ap-Morgan_ to _London_ would ride,      [92.]
  To seek Cousen _Taffie_ whatever betide;
  Her own Sisters Son, whom her loved so dear,
  Her had not beheld him this many long year:
  Betimes in the morning stout _Shonny_ arose,
  And then on the Journey with Courage her goes,
  A _Cossit_[F. 163] of Gray was the best of her Close,
  Her Boots they were out at the heels and the toes.

  A Sword by her side, and with _Bob_ the Gray Mare,
  Her rid on the Road like a Champion so rare;
  At last how it happened to her hard Lot,
  To meet with young _Jockey_, a bonny brisk Scot;
  Then _Jockey_ was jolly, and thus he did say,
  Let's gang to the Tavern, drink wine by my fay,
  Then _Shonny_ consented, and made no delay,
  But _Jockey_ left _Shonny_ the Reckoning to pay.

[Illustration]

  While _Morgan_ was merry, and thinking no ill,
  The _Scotchman_ he used the best of his skill;
  Considering how he might scamper away,
  For why Sir, he never intended to pay:
  But like a false Loon he slipt out of door,
  And never intended to come there no more,
  Poor Shonny-ap-Morgan, was left for the Score,
  Cotzo her was never so served before.

  Her paying the Shot, then away her went,
  The _Welch_ blood was up, and her mind was bent,
  For speedy pursuing he then did prepare,
  Then Morgan did mount upon _Bob_ the Gray Mare:
  Then Whip and Spur stout _Shonny_ did ride,
  And overtook _Jockey_ near to a Wood side,
  And pull'd out her Sword in the height of her Pride,
  And wounded poor _Jockey_ who presently dy'd.

  Then _Shonny_ was taken and hurry'd to Jail,
  Where her till the Sessions did weep and bewail;
  And then at the last, by the Laws of the Land,
  Was brought to the Bar to hold up her Hand;
  O good her Lord Shudge poor _Shonny_ did cry,
  Now Whip her, and send her to Wales her Country;
  Or cut off a Leg, or an Arm, or an Eye,
  For her is undone, if Condemned to dye.

  But this would not do, poor _Shonny_ was cast,
  And likewise received her sentence at last;
  A Gentleman Robber just at the same time,
  Received just Sentence then due for his Crime;
  Then _Shonny-ap-Morgan_ her shed many tears,
  Her heart was possessed with sorrow and fears,
  The Gentleman Thief likewise hung down his ears,
  For then he expected his antient Arrears.

  The day being come, they must both bid adieu,
  Forsaking the world and the rest of their Crew;
  The Spark was attir'd so gallant and gay,
  But _Shonny_ was poor, and in ragged array:
  And when they came both to the Gibbet Tree,
  The Gentleman gave to the Hangman a Fee,
  And said, let this _Welch man_ Hang farther from me,
  So vile and so ragged a Rascal is he.

  The Welch-man he heard him, and was in a rage,
  That nothing almost, could his anger asswage;
  But fretting and chaffing, he thus did begin,
  Her will make her to know that her came of good kin;
  Besides her will tell her her hearty belief,
  That her is no more than a Gentleman Thief,
  That robbed on the Roads, and the Plain and the Heath,
  Her now will Hang by her in spight of her teeth.

FINIS.

Printed for _J. Deacon_ at the _Angel_ in Guiltspur Street.

    [Footnote 163: ? Corset.]


[82.] A Country fellow (that had not walked much in streets that were
paved) came to _London_, where a dog came suddenly out of a house, and
furiously ran at him: the fellow stooped to take up a stone to cast
at the Dog, and finding them all fast rammed, or paved in the ground;
quoth hee, what strange Country am I in? where the people tye up the
stones, and let the dogs loose.


[93.] _George_ (_Peele_), with others of his Associates, being mery
together at the Taverne, having more store of Coyne than usually they
did possesse; although they were regardlesse of their silver, yet
they intended for a season to be good husbands, if they knew how to be
sparing of that their pockets were then furnished withall: Five pounds
they had amongst them, and a plot must be cast how they might bee
merrie with extraordinarie cheere three or foure dayes, and keepe
their five pounds whole in stocke: _George Peele_ was the man must doe
it, or none, and generally they coniured him by their loves, his owne
credit, and the reputation that went on him, that he would but in this
shew his wit: and, withall, hee should have all the furtherance that
in them lay. _George_ as easie, as they earnest, to be wonne to such
an exploit, consented and gathered their money together, and gave it
all to _George_, who should be their purse bearer, and the other foure
should seeme as servants to _George Peele_ and the better to colour
it, they should goe change their cloakes, the one like the other, so
neere as they could possible: the which, at _Beelzebub's_ brother,
the Broker's, they might quickly doe: This was soone accomplished,
and _George_ was furnished with his blacke Sattin suit, and a paire
of bootes, which were as familiar to his legges, as the pillory to
a Bakers or Colliers[F. 164] necke, and hee sufficiently possest his
friends with the whole scope of his intent, as, gentle Reader, the
sequell will shew. Instantly they tooke a paire of Oares, whose armes
were to make a false gallop no further than Brainford, where their
faire was paid to them so liberally, that each of them the next
tide to London, purchased two new wastcoates, yet should these good
benefactors come to their usuall places of trade, and if they spie
a better fare than their owne, that happily the Gentleman hath more
minde to goe withall, they will not onely fall out with him that is
of their owne sweet transporters, as they are, but abuse the fare they
carrie with foule speeches, as, a Pox, or the Devill go with you:
as their Godfather _Caron_ the Ferry-man of Hell hath taught them. I
speake not this of all, but of some that are brought up in the East,
some in the West, some in the North, but most part in the South: but
for the rest they are honest compleat men, leaving them to come to
my honest _George_; who is now merry at the three Pigeons[F. 165] in
Braineford, with Sacke and Sugar, not any wine wanting, the Musicians
playing, my host drinking, my hostis dauncing with the worshipfull
Justice, for so then he was tearmed, and his Mansion house in Kent,
who came thither of purpose to be merry with his men; because he could
not so conveniently neere home, by reason of a shrewish wife he
had: my gentle hostis gave him all the entertainment the house could
afford, for M. _Peele_ had paid royally; for all his five pounds was
come to ten groats. Now _George Peele's_ wit labors to bring in that
five pounds there was spent, which was soone begotten. Being sot at
dinner, My host, quoth _George_, how fals the Tyde out for London; not
till the evening, quoth mine Hoste, have you any businesse, Sir?
Yes, marry, quoth _George_, I intend not to goe home this two dayes:
Therefore, my Hoste, saddle my man a horse for London, if you be so
well furnished, for I must send him for one bag more, quoth _George_,
ten pounds hath seen no Sunne this six moneths. I am ill furnished if
I cannot furnish you with that, quoth my Hoste, and presently sadled
him a good Nag, and away rides one of _George's_ men to London,
attending the good house of his Master _Peele_ in London; In the meane
time _George_ bespeakes great cheare to Supper, saying he expected
some of his friends from London. Now you must imagine there was not
a peny owing in the house, for he had paid as liberall as _Cæsar_,
as far as _Cæsar's_ wealth went. For indeed most of the money was one
Cæsar's an honest man yet living in London: but to the Catastrophe.
All the day before, had one of the other men of _George Peele_ been
a great soliciter to my Hostis, she would beg leave of his Master he
might go see a Maid, a sweet heart of his, so farre as Kingstone, and
before his Master went to bed, he would returne againe; saying he
was sure shee might command it at his Masters hands. My kinde Hostis
willing to pleasure the yong fellow, knowing in her time what belonged
to such matters, went to Master _Peele_, and moved him in it: which
he angerly refused. But she was so earnest in it, that shee swore hee
should not deny her, protesting he went but to see an uncle of his
some five miles off. Marry, I thanke you, quoth _George_, my good
Hostis, would you so discredit me, or hath the knave no more wit, than
at this time to goe, knowing I have no horse here, and would he, base
cullian, go afoot? Nay, good Sir, quoth mine Hostis, be not angry, it
is not his intent to goe afoot; for hee shall have my Mare, and I will
assure you, Sir, upon my word, he shall be here againe, to have you
to bed. Wel, quoth _George_, Hostis Ile take you at your word, let him
goe, his negligence shall light upon you. So be it, quoth mine Hostis:
so down goeth she, and sends away civill _Thomas_, for so she cal'd
him, to his sweet heart backt upon her Mare: which _Thomas_ instead of
riding to Kingstone, tooke London in his way, where, meeting with my
other horseman, attended the arrivall of _George Peele_, which was not
long after. They are at London, _George_ in his Chamber at Brainford,
accompanied with none but one _Anthony Nit_, a Barber, who Din'd and
Sup't with him continually, of whom he had borowed a Lute to passe
away the melancholy afternoone, of which he could play as well as
_Banke's_[F. 166] his horse. The Barber very modestly takes his leave;
_George_ obsequiously bids him to supper, who (God willing) would not
faile. _George_ being left alone with his two supposed men, gave them
the meane how to escape, and, walking in the Court, _George_ found
fault with the weather, saying it was rawish, and cold: which words
mine Hostis hearing, my kinde Hostis fetched her Husbands holiday
Gowne; which _George_ thankfully put about him, and withall called
for a cup of Sacke, after which he would walke into the Meddowes, and
practise upon his Lute. 'Tis good for your worship to do so, quoth
mine Hostis: which walk _George_ took directly to Sion,[F. 167] where,
having the advantage of a paire of Oares at hand, made this Journey
to London, his two Associates behind, had the plot in their heads by
_Georges_ instruction for their escape: for they knew he was gone;
my Hostis, she was in the Market buying of provision for Supper: mine
Hoste he was at Tables,[F. 168] and my two masterlesse men desired the
maids to excuse them if their Master came, for, quoth they, we will
goe drinke two pots with my Smug Smithes wife at old Brainford. I
warrant you, quoth the Maides. So away went my men to the Smith's at
old Brainford; from thence to London, where they all met, and sold the
Horse and the Mare, the Gowne and the Lute, which money was as badly
spent, as it was lewdly got. How my Hoste and my Hostis lookt when
they saw the event of this; goe but to the three Pigeons at Brainford,
you shall know.

    [Footnote 164: Now termed coal merchants.]

    [Footnote 165: This sign, which exists at Brentford now, was
    that of a famous house at that time. It is noticed in the old
    comedy of "The Roaring Girl, or the Catchpole," thus--

      "Thou art admirably suited for the Three Pigeons
      At Brentford; I swear I know thee not."

    And Ben Jonson in his "Alchemist" makes _Subtle_ say to _Doll
    Common_, "We will turn our course to Brainford, westward, if
    thou saist the word.... My fine flitter-mouse[F. 165a] my bird
    o' the night, wee'll tickle it at the _pigeons_." It has been
    suggested, with some show of probability, that this sign took
    its origin from the three doves which Noah sent out from the
    ark.]

        [Footnote 165a: A bat.]

    [Footnote 166: See footnote, p. 125. (Footnote 77)]

    [Footnote 167: Sion House, now the seat of the Duke of
    Northumberland, is opposite the western end of Kew Gardens.]

    [Footnote 168: Backgammon, or any other games played on the
    same board.]


[94.] Two being in a Tavern, the one swore the other should pledge
him: why then, quoth the other, I will; who went presently down the
stairs, and left him as a pledge for the Reckoning.


[91.] First my mother brought me forth, when shortly after, I, the
Daughter, bring forth my mother againe.

_Resolution._ Of water is first made ice, which afterwards melts,
and brings forth water againe, and so the daughter brings forth the
mother, as the mother first the daughter.



Times Alteration

or

  The Old Mans rehearsall, what brave dayes he knew
  A great while agone, when his old Cap was new.


To the Tune of _Ile nere be drunke againe_.


[Illustration]


  When this Old Cap was new,      [94*.]
    tis since two hundred yeere,
  No malice then we knew,
    but all things plentie were:
  All friendship now decayes,
    (beleeve me this is true)
  Which was not in those dayes,
    _when this old Cap was new_.

  The Nobles of our Land
    were much delighted then,
  To have at their command
    a Crue of lustie Men:
  Which by their Coates were knowne
    of Tawnie, Red or Blue,
  With Crests on their sleeves showne
    _when this old Cap was new_.

  Now Pride hath banisht all,
    unto our Lands reproach,
  Then he whose meanes is small,
    maintaines both Horse and Coach.
  Instead of an hundred Men,
    the Coach allows but two;
  This was not thought of then,
    _when this old Cap was new_.

  Good Hospitalitie
    was cherisht then of many,
  Now poore men starve and die,
    and are not helpt by any
  For Charitie waxeth cold,
    and Love is found in few;
  This was not in time of old,
    _when this old Cap was new_.

  Where ever you travel'd then,
    you might meet on the way
  Brave Knights and Gentlemen,
    clad in their Country Gray;
  That courteous would appear,
    and kindly welcome you,
  No Puritans then were,
    _when this old Cap was new_.

  Our Ladies in those dayes
    in civill Habit went,
  Broad-cloth was then worth prayse,
    and gave the best content;
  French Fashions then were scorn'd,
    fond Fangles then none knew,
  Then Modestie Women adorn'd,
    _when this old Cap was new_.

  A Man might then behold,
    at Christmas, in each Hall,
  Good Fires, to curbe the Cold,
    and Meat for great and small.
  The Neighbours were friendly bidden,
    and all had welcome true,
  The poor from the Gates were not chidden,
    _when this old Cap was new_.

  Black Jackes to every man
    were fill'd with Wine and Beere,
  No Pewter Pot nor Kanne
    in those dayes did appeare:
  Good cheare in a Noble-mans house
    was counted a seemly shew,
  We wanted no Brawne nor Sowse
    _when this old Cap was new_.

  We tooke not such delight
    in Cups of Silver fine,
  None under the degree of a Knight,
    in Plate drunk Beere or Wine.
  Now each Mechanicall man,
    hath a Cup-board of Plate for a shew,
  Which was a rare thing then,
    _when this old Cap was new_.

  Then Briberie was unborne,
    no Simonie men did use,
  Christians did Usurie scorne,
    devis'd among the Jewes.
  Then Lawyers to be Feed,
    at that time hardly knew,
  For man with man agreed,
    _when this old Cap was new_.

  No Captaine then carowst
    nor spent poore Souldiers Pay,
  They were not so abus'd
    as they are at this day.
  Of seven dayes they make eight,
    to keepe from them their due,
  Poore Souldiers had their right
    _when this old Cap was new_.

  Which made them forward still
    to goe, although not prest,
  And going with good will,
    their fortunes were the best.
  Our English then in fight
    did forraine Foes subdue,
  And forst them all to flight,
    _when this old Cap was new_.

  God save our gracious King,
    and send him long to live,
  Lord, mischiefe on them bring,
    that will not their almes give.
  But seeke to rob the Poore,
    of that which is their due;
  This was not in time of yore,
    _when this old Cap was new_.
                                      M. P.[F. 169]

FINIS.

Printed for the Assignes of Thomas Symcocke.

    [Footnote 169: ? Martin Parker.]


[77.] In the Country _Tarlton_ told his Hostesse he was a Conjurer. O,
Sir (sayes she) I had pewter stolne off my shelf the other day, help
me to it, and I will forgive you all the pots of Ale you owe mee,
which is sixteene dozen. Sayes _Tarlton_, To morrow morning the Divell
shall help you to it, or I will trounce him. Morning came, and the
Hostesse and he met in a roome by themselves. _Tarlton_, to passe
the time with exercise of his wit with circles and tricks, fals to
coniure, having no more skill than a dogge. But see the iest, how
contrarily it fell out: as he was calling out, _mons_, _pons_, _simul_
& _fons_, and such like, a Cat (unexpected) leapt from the gutter
window, which sight so amazed _Tarlton_, that he skipt thence, & threw
his Hostesse downe, so that he departed with his fellowes, and left
her hip out of joynt, being then in the Surgeons hands, & not daring
to tell how it came.


[4.] One ask'd a Fellow if he would go into the Water with him: No,
says he, I'll never go into the Water till I have learnt to Swim.


[26.] A Woman accidentally coming into the room where they were, and
hearing them speak of that Frost[F. 170] in _Germany_, told some such
stories; but when she saw the Company began to scruple at the truth
of it (which I wonder they did, if they consider but her following
discourse) then she up and told them That her dear and loving Husband,
peace be with him, was in that great Frost, out late one night, which,
truly, Gentlemen, I believe was the occasion of his death; though he
lingred Fourteen or Fifteen years after it; he, I say, riding
that night, came to a Common, where were great store of very good
Cole-pits, insomuch that he fell down to the bottom in one of them,
and his Horse fell directly upon him; that it was impossible at that
time of night, and in such weather, to be relieved in that great
distress; and, having lain so for a long time, and no hopes to be
relieved at all, he presently bethought himself, and immediately
rose, and went to the next Village, and there borrowed a Pickaxe and
a Spade, and then came back with 'em to the Pit, and first digged out
himself, and then his Horse, and so about Five a Clock in the Morning
came home; but so weary and so cold, that he could not unbutton his
Doublet: Nay, says she, after I had hope (_sic_) him off with all his
Cloaths: he was so benumb'd, that I was forc'd to take a Warming Pan
of hot Coles, and so went all over his body, yet was he so cold, that
he scarcely felt, though the Warming Pan sometimes stood a pretty
while together in one place; which truly, Gentlemen, I was fain to do
for my Dear Husband: which confirmed them in the belief of it, that it
was as true as any of the rest, and gave her thanks for it also, and
so she made them half a dozen reverend Courchys and bid 'em good by.

    [Footnote 170: See ante, p. 259. (Footnote 160)]


_On a Cobler._

  Death at a Coblers doore oft made a stand,      [5.]
  And alwaies found him on the mending hand;
  At last came death in very foule weather,
  And ript the soale from the upper leather:
  Death put a trick upon him, and what was't?
  The Cobler call'd for's awle, death brought his Laste.


[82.] There was a Scottish Gentleman that had sore eyes, who was
counselled by his Physitians to forbeare drinking of wine: but hee
said hee neither could nor would forbeare it, maintaining it for the
lesser evill, to shut up the windowes of his body, than to suffer the
house to fall downe, through want of repair.


[52.] In Gloucestershire dwelt one that cured frantick men in this
manner; when the fit was on them he would put them in a gutter of
water, some to the knees, some to the middle, and some to the neck, as
the disease was on them. So one that was well amended, standing at
the gate, by chance a Gentleman came riding by with his Hawks and his
Hounds. The mad fellow called him, and said, Gentleman, whether go
you? On hunting (quoth the Gentleman.) What do you with all those
Kites and Dogs? They be Hawks and Hounds, quoth the Gentleman.
Wherefore keep you them? (quoth the other). Why, (quoth he) for my
pleasure. What do they cost you a yeare to keepe them? Forty pounds
(quoth the Gentleman) And what do they profit you? (quoth he) Some ten
pounds (quoth the Gentleman) Get thee quickly hence, quoth the fellow,
for if my Master finde thee here, he will put thee into the gutter up
to the throat.


The next illustration is a scathing satire on the treatment of the
army in Ireland. Perhaps the tersest notice of the history of this
time is in _The Chronological Historian_, by W. Toone. "16 Feb. 1646.
The Parliament sent a Committee to form the Army for Ireland.--The
Commissioners found the Army not inclined to obey them."


    The humble Petition of us the Parliaments poore Souldiers in
    the Army of Ireland, whereof many are starved already, and
    many dead for want of Chirurgions.

[Illustration]

[95.] That we the poor distressed Souldiery under the Parliaments
Service in Ireland, having heretofore served the Parliament under the
Lord Generall Essex, Valiant Massey, and noble Sir William Waller, and
the rest, &c, did in all faithfulnesse, hardship and desperate service
as ever any, hazzard our lives and fortunes, and did according to
order obey and disband, then not so much as doubting of all our
Arreares, and now have almost served you two years in all integrity
and faithfulnesse both Winter and Summer, wet and dry, frost and Snow,
having no other bedding than the bare ground for our beds, and the
skies for their covering, and when dry in the day and night, no other
signe to drink at but the Sun and Moone, and nothing but water, having
no plenty, but cold backs, hungrie bellies, and puddle water, and when
sore wounded, not a Surgeon to dresse us, or if a Surgeon, no chest,
nor salve, nor oyntments; and for bread many times not a loafe of two
pence under sixpence, and rotten Cheese sent, not fit for a dog, and
for butter, it went from London to Dover, and mistook Dublin and went
to Dunkirk, and for our new Cloathes all made of the French fashion,
and being too little for any of us, were carried to France to cloath
them, hardly hats to our heads but what our haire growes through, and
neither hose or shooes, doublet or breeches, tearing our Snapsacks to
patch a hole to hide our naked and starved flesh, and our swords naked
for want of scabberds: Thus with our backs without cloaths and our
bellies without food, and not a penny to buy anything, and the kernes
having burnt all the corne and destroyed all fit for succour, we
forced to march bare legged and bare footed, having neither fire nor
food, we perish in misery, and our Commanders being in a manner in the
same case, having nothing but good words to pay us with, shewing us
often your Orders upon Orders for our pay, plentifully promising
but not performing, and thus wee dropping downe dead daily in our
marching, and so feeble and so weak, being not able to fight or do any
more service without some supply, but all like to starve and die in
misery, when all meanes is anticipated, and the Tax of 60000l. wholly
ingrossed by your Army from us, and your Souldiery quartered in Kings
houses, and clad Gentile like, and fed in Free-quarter to the full,
and lie in good beds, and take their pleasure and ease in rest and
peace.

We humbly desire our hungry bellies may once be filled, and our naked
backs be cloathed, and our legs and feet be hosed and shooed, and our
Surgeons once more fitted, and all recruited with food to supply us
once more, that we may go out again to finish that work we have begun,
and not to lie like Drones to eat up others meat, and we do not doubt,
but with Gods blessing to give you a happy account of the Conquest of
the whole Land, and shall ever pray for a happy Parliament.

DUBLIN: Printed by _W. B._ _1648_ (_Feb. 18. 1647_).



GOOD ALE FOR MY MONEY[F. 171]

  The Good-fellowes resolution of strong Ale,
  That cures his nose from looking pale.


To the Tune of The Countrey Lass.


  Be merry my friends, and list a while      [96.]
    unto a merry jest,
  It may from you produce a smile,
    when you heare it exprest:
  Of a young man lately married,
    which was a boone good fellow;
  This song in 's head he alwaies carried,
    when drinke had made him mellow.
  _I cannot go home, nor I will not go home,
    it's 'long of the oyle of Barly,
  I'le tarry all night for my delight,
    and go home in the morning early._

  No Tapster stout, or Vintner fine,
    quoth he shall ever get
  One groat out of this purse of mine
    to pay his masters debt:
  Why should I deal with sharking Rookes,
    that seeke poore guls to cozen,
  To give twelve pence for a quart of wine,
    of ale 'twill buy a dozen.
  _'Twill make me sing, I cannot go home &c_

  The old renowned Ipocrist[F. 172]
    and Raspie[F. 173] doth excell,
  But never any wine could yet
    my honour please to swell:
  The Rhenish wine or Muscadine,
    sweet Malmsie is too fulsome,
  No, give me a cup of Barlie broth
    for that is very wholesome.
  _'Twill make me sing &c_--

[Illustration]

  Hot Waters are to me as death,
    and soon the head oreturneth,
  And Nectar hath so strong a breath
    Canary when it burneth.
  It cures no paine but breakes the braine,
    and raps out oathes and curses,
  And makes men part with heavie heart,
    but light it makes their purses.
  _I cannot go home &c_

  Some say Metheglin[F. 174] beares the name,
    with Perry and sweet Sider,
  'Twill bring the body out of frame,
    and reach the belly wider:
  Which to prevent I am content
    with Ale that's good and nappie,
  And when thereof I have enough,
    I thinke myselfe most happy.
  _I cannot go home &c_

  All sorts of men when they do meet,
    both trade and occupation,
  With curtesie each other greet,
    and kinde humiliation:
  A good coale fire is their desire,
    whereby to sit and parly,
  They'le drinke their ale and tell a tale
    and go home in the morning early.
  _I cannot go home &c_

  Your domineering swaggering blades,
    and Cavaliers that flashes,
  That throw the Jugs against the walls,
    and break in peeces glasses.
  When Bacchus round cannot be found,
    they will in merriment
  Drink ale and beere and cast of care,
    and sing with one consent.
  _I cannot go home &c_

Lawrence Price.

Printed at London.

    [Footnote 171: For tune, see Appendix. _The Country Lass_ is
    identical with _Stingo_.]

    [Footnote 172: Hippocras, a compound of wine, sugar, and spice
    mixed and strained through a cloth.]

    [Footnote 173: Or raspis--raspberry wine.]

    [Footnote 174: A mixture of honey and water, boiled and
    fermented.]


[52.] A notable yong Rogue, having plaid some notable knavish pranke,
was for the offence to be whipt, and as hee was ready to be tied to
the Cart, hee said to the Beadle that should whip him; Here is ten
Shillings for thee, I pray thee use mee kindly, and deale not too
cruelly with me: to whom the Beadle promised great curtesie; but being
tied fast to the Cart, hee whipt him very severely. The fellow called
unto him, and bad him remember his promise: What knave (quoth the
Beadle) do'st prate and talke, and knowest not the Law. Afterward
being released he bethought himselfe how he might be revenged on the
Beadle, and seeing him stand in the Market, pickes a pocket, and puts
the purse into the Beadles pocket, and goes to the fellow, from whom
he had stolne the purse, saying, Friend, do you misse nothing? who
presently cryed out, saying He had lost his purse. Yonder Beadle hath
it (quoth hee) and you shall finde it in his pocket, I saw him
take it. The man that had lost his purse goes unto the Beadle, and
apprehended him, for his purse, who utterly denied he had it, neither
knew of any such matter. But being found about him, he was condemned
to die for it. The pick-pocket being imprisoned againe for some small
fault desired he might be hangman that day, and it being granted: When
the Beadle came to be hanged, Sirrah (quoth the pick pocket) do you
remember how you whipt me the other day when I gave you ten shillings?
I. (quoth the Beadle) I pray thee forgive me, I am now ready to dye.
I. sirrah (quoth hee) thank me for it, for I pickt the purse and put
it in your pocket. With that the Beadle began to cry aloud, saying,
Hold, hold. What, knave, (quoth the pick pocket) do'st talke and
prate, and knowest not the Law. And so he turned him beside the
ladder.


[17.] A fat man riding upon a lean horse, was ask'd, Why he was so
fat, and the horse so lean? said: Because I look to myself, and my man
to my horse.


[4.] A Blind Minister coming to speak with a Gentleman, the
Gentleman's man came running to him, and told him that the blind
Minister was come _to see him_.


The very rare book from which the accompanying illustration is taken
is not of interest to the general reader. It is a dialogue between
the miller and those who bring their wives, etc., to be ground young
again; but the woodcut itself is very curious as a caricature.

[97.] [Illustration]


[26.] Another Fellow said that he had heard all their stories, and did
think at first that some of them had been untruths, but now, says he,
I am better satisfied; and I will tell you what I know upon my own
knowledge. I was once in some company where I heard one of them say
that to his knowledge a Raven would live a hundred years: so the next
day I went and bought me one purposely to make a Tryal, and put him
into a Cage and taught him to sing; and I think in my Conscience no
Bird but a Raven could sing like him. Well, says he, I kept this Bird
above a hundred years; nay, if I should say two hundred, I should
not lie, (and fed him all the time myself.) At last being very tame I
turn'd him out of the Cage and put him into a Room, where I had only a
Goose, but never a Gander for her: I know not how it happened, but the
Raven and the Goose fell in league together (for you must know 'twas a
Cock Raven,) and she brought ten young ones, all coloured half black,
and half white; and those Five which were black towards the head cry'd
just like a Raven, and those that were white towards the head, cry'd
like Geese, and I eat one of the former, that was black towards the
head; and, if you'll believe me, I have had ever since such a strange
croaking in my Stomach, especially if I see any Carrion, that 'tis a
great disturbance to me: Nay, one of my Neighbours upon some occasion
call'd my Wife _Carrion_; and though I did not love her before; yet
ever since I have had a great kindness for her. Then they told him
that the strangness of this story made it true, and the Proverb makes
it good, that is _'Tis not so strange as true_.


The following caricature of _Shrovetide_, which has more artistic
merit than most similar productions, has a companion in _Lent_, which,
however, not being able to procure the original, I do not give.


_SHROVETYDE._

  [Illustration:_You that hate Fasting, Dearth, and starvling Leanes,
  Spitts bright hang'd up, and Teeth and Platters Cleanes_

  _SHROVETYDE_

  _Behold your Champion_ Shrovetyde _in this fray
  Would murder_ Lent, _and every fasting day_
]


  Fatte _Shrovetyde_ mounted on a good fatt _Oxe_,    [98.]
  Suppos'd that _Lent_ was mad, or caught a _Foxe_,[F. 175]
  Armd _Cap a pea_ from head unto the heele,
  A Spit, his long sword, somewhat worse than steele,
  (Sheathed in a fatt Pigge, and a Peece of Porke)
  His bottles fil'd with Wine, well stopt with Corke.
  The two plump Capons fluttering at his Crupper,
  And's shoulders lac'd with Sawsages for Supper;
  The Gridir'n (like a well strung Instrument)
  Hung at his backe, and for the Turnament
  His Helmet is a Brasse Pott, and his Flagge
  A Cookes foule Apron, which the wind doth wagg,
  Fixd to a Broome, thus bravely he did ride,
  And boldly to his foe, he thus replyde.
    What art thou, thou leane jawde Annatamie
  All spirit (for I no flesh upon thee spie)
  Thou bragging peece of ayre and smoake that prat'st,
  And all good fellowship and friendship hat'st.
  You'le turne our feasts to fasts, when, can you tell
  Against your spight, we are provided well.
  Thou sayst thou'lt ease the Cookes, the Cooks could wish
  Thee boyld, or broyld with all thy froathy fish,
  For one fish dinner takes more paines and cost
  Than three of flesh, bak'd, roast or boyld, almost.
  Youle take away our playes, our sports and pleasure,
  And give the Butchers time for ease and leasure.
  Alasse poor scabbe, how barren are thy hopes
  The Fencers, Beares, and Dauncers on the Ropes,
  Is manly sport, or lawlesse recreation
  Which all thy sev'n weeks time, are still in fashion,
  The truth is, thou aswagest few mens hunger,
  And hast no faithfull friend but the Fishmonger.
  There's little danger to attend on me,
  When men are drownd at Sea to furnish thee.
  Pease pottage, and dryde beanes, by proofe we find,
  Offends and fills men with unwholsome wind,
  And ere I'le be a slave and pinch my maw
  I'le breake all Proclamation, rule and Law,
  Wee'le fill our Tubs with powdred flesh, beside
  By licenc't Butchers we will be supplyde
  With fresh meat; so hungry _Lent_ adieu,
  We are resolv'd to feed in spight of you.

FINIS

LONDON

Printed by M. S. for _Thomas Jenner_, and are to be sold at his Shop
at the South Entrance of the Royal Exchange 1660.

    [Footnote 175: _I.e._ foxed or drunk.]


[93.] _George_ (_Peele_) was not so merry at London with his Capons
and Claret, as poore _Anthony_ the Barber was sorrowfull at Brainford
for the losse of his Lute, & therefore determined to come to London
to seeke out _George Peele_, which by the meanes of a Kinsman that
_Anthony Nit_ had in London, his name was _Cuts or Feats_, a Fellow
that had good skill in tricks on the Cards, and he was well acquainted
with the place where _George's_ common abode was, and for kindred sake
he directed the Barber where he should have him, which was at a blinde
Ale house in Sea-cole Lane.[F. 176] There he found _George_ in a
greene Jerkin, a Spanish platter fashioned Hat, all alone with a Pecke
of Oysters. The Barber's heart danc'd within him for joy he had so
happily found him; he gave him the time of the day. _George_ not a
little abashed at the sight of the Barber, yet went not to discover
it openly; he that at all times had a quicke invention, was not now
behind hand to entertaine my Barber, who knew for what his comming
was. _George_ thus saluted him, My honest Barber, quoth _George_,
welcome to London, I partly know your businesse, you come for your
Lute, doe you not? Indeed Sir, quoth the Barber, for that is my
comming. And beleeve me, quoth _George_, you shall not lose your
labour, I pray you stand to, and eat an oyster, and I'le go with you
presently: For a Gentleman in the Citie of great worship, borrowed it
of me for the use of his Daughter, that plays exceeding well, and had
a great desire to have the Lute; but, Sir, if you will goe along
with me to the Gentlemans house, you shall have your Lute with great
satisfaction, for had you not come, I assure you I had sent to you;
for you must understand that all that was done at Brainford among us
mad Gentlemen, was but a jest, and no otherwise. Sir, I think not any
otherwise, quoth the Barber, but I would desire your worship, that
as you had it of me in lone, so in kindnesse you would helpe me to it
againe. What else, quoth _George_, Ile goe with thee presently, even
as I am, for I came from hunting this morning, and should I go up to
the certain Gentlemen above, I should hardly get away. I thank you
Sir, quoth the Barber, so on goes _George_ with him in his greene
Jerkin, a wand in his hand very pretty, till he came almost to the
Alderman's House, where, making a sodaine stay, Afore God, quoth
_George_, I must crave thy pardon at this instant, for I have
bethought myselfe, should I go as I am, it would be imagined I had had
some of my Lords hounds out this morning, therefore I'le take my leave
of thee, and meet thee where thou wilt about one of the Clock. Nay
good Sir, quoth the Barber, goe with me now, for I purpose, God
willing, to be at Brainford tonight. Saist thou so, quoth _George_,
why then I'le tell thee what thou shalt doe, thou art here a stranger,
and altogether unknowne, lend me thy Cloake and thy Hat, and doe thou
put on my greene Jerken, and I'le goe with thee directly along. The
Barber, unwilling to leave him untill he had his Lute, yeelded to
the change. So when they came to the Gentleman's porch he put on
_George's_ greene Jerken and his Spanish Hat: and he the Barbers
Cloake, and his Hat; either of them being thus fitted, _George_ knocks
at the doore, to whom the Porter bids heartily welcome, for _George_
was well knowne, who at that time had all the oversight of the
Pageants, he desires the Porter to bid his friend welcome, for he is a
good fellow and a keeper, Master Porter, one that at his pleasure can
bestow a haunch of Venison on you: Marry that can I, quoth the Barber.
I thank you Sir, answered the Porter, Master _Peele_, my Master is
in the Hall, pleaseth it you to walke in? With all my heart, quoth
_George_, in the meane time let my friend beare you company. That he
shall, Master _Peele_, quoth the Porter, and if it please him he shall
take a simple dinner with me. The Barber gives him harty thankes,
nothing doubting Master _Peele_ any way, seeing him knowne, and
himselfe so welcome, fell in Chat with the Porter. _George Peele_ goes
directly to the Alderman, who now is come into the Court in the eye of
the Barber, where _George_ after many complaints, drawes a black
paper out of his bosome, & making action to the Barber, reads to the
Alderman as followeth, I humbly desire your worship to stand my friend
in a sleight matter; yonder hard favoured knave, that sits by your
Worship's Porter, hath dog'd me to arrest me, and I had no other
meanes but to take your Worship's house for shelter; the occasion
is but triviall, onely for stealing of a piece of flesh, myselfe
consorted with three or foure gentlemen of good fashion, that would
not willingly have our names come in question. Therefore this is my
boone, that your Worship would let one of your servants let me out
at the Garden doore, and I shall think myselfe much indebted to your
Worship. The kind Gentleman, little dreaming of _George Peele's_
deceit, took him into the Parlor, gave him a brace of Angels, & caused
one of his servants to let _George_ out at the Garden doore, which was
no sooner opened, but _George_ made way for the Barber seeing him
any more, and all the way he went, could not choose but laugh at his
knavish conceit; how he had guld the simple Barber, who sat all this
while with the Porter, blowing of his nayles; to whom came this fellow
that let _George_ out. You whorson Keeperly Rascall, quoth the fellow,
dare you come any honest Gentleman in my Masters house? Not I, so God
helpe me, quoth the Barber, I pray Sir where is the Gentleman Master
_Peele_ that came along with me? Farre enough, quoth the Fellow, for
your comming neere him, he is gone out at the Garden doore. Garden
doore? quoth the Barber, Sir, I am no Keeper, I am quite undone: I am
a Barber dwelling at Brainford, and, with weeping teares, up and told
him how _George_ had used him. The servant goes in & tels his Master;
which when he heard, he could not but laugh at the first: yet in pitty
of the poore Barber, he gave him twenty shillings towards his losse.
The Barber, sighing, tooke it, and towards Brainford home he goes, and
whereas hee came from thence in a new Cloake and a faire Hat, hee went
home weeping in an old Hat, and a greene Jerken.

The accompanying illustration is taken from a tract, in itself of no
literary merit or humour, but the picture is amusing, representing a
"Brown[F. 177] Dozen of Drunkards, ali-ass Drink-haros, Jocoseriously
descanted to our wine drunk, wrath drunk, and zeale drunk staggering
times."

[99.] [Illustration]

    [Footnote 176: This lane was between Snow Hill and Fleet
    Lane.]

    [Footnote 177: Most probably meant for a _round_ dozen, or
    baker's dozen, as there are thirteen depicted and thirteen
    characters in the tract.]


[94.] A drunken fellow returning home towards evening, found his wife
hard at her spinning; she reproving him for his ill husbandry, and
commending herself for her good huswifery, he told her that she had no
great cause to chide, for as she had been spinning, he came home all
the way reeling.


  There was a man bespake a thing,    [91.]
  Which when the owner home did bring,
  He that made it did refuse it,
  And he that bought it would not use it,
  And he that hath it doth not know,
  Whether he hath it, I, or no.

_Resolution_ A Coffin bought by another for a dead man.


[86.] One affirmed that he had been in a certain Country, where their
Bees were as big as our Sheep. This impudent lye one began to
examine, and therefore said, sure then the Bee-hives must be of a huge
bignesse; No, saith the other, they are no bigger than ours; How then
can they get in? said one. This bogled[F. 178] the lyar like a Mouse
in pitch; at last he answered, let them whom it concerns look to that.

    [Footnote 178: Puzzled, bothered.]



A Health to all Good-Fellowes:

or

The good Companions Arithmaticke.


To the Tune of, _To drive the cold Winter away_.


  Be merry my hearts, and call for your quarts,
    and let no liquor be lacking,
  We have gold in store, we purpose to roare,
    untill we set care a packing.
  Then Hostis make haste, and let no time waste,
    let every man have his due,
  To save shooes and trouble, bring in the pots double,
    for he that made one made two.

  I'le drink up my drinke, and speak what I thinke,
    strong drinke will make us speake truely,
  We cannot be termed all drunkards confirmed,
    so long as we are not unruly.
  Wee'le drinke and be civill, intending no evill,
    if none be offended at me,
  As I did before, so I'le adde one more,
    and he that made two made three.

[Illustration]

  The greedy Curmudgin sits all the day snudging[F. 179]
    at home with browne bread and small beare,
  To Coffer up wealth, he starveth himselfe,
    scarce eats a good meale in a yeare.
  But I'le not do so, how ere the world go
    so long as I have money in store
  I scorne for to faile, go fil us more Ale,
    for he that made three made four.

  Why sit you thus sadly, because I call madly,
    I meane not to leave in the lurch,
  My reckoning Ile pay ere I go away,
    else hang me as high as a Church.
  Perhaps you will say, this is not the way,
    they must pine that in this world will thrive,
  No matter for that, wee'le laugh and be fat,
    for he that made foure made five.

  To those my good friends my love so extends,
    I cannot truely expresse it;
  When with you I meet, your words are so sweet,
    I am unwilling to misse it.
  I hate all base slaves that their money saves,
    and all those that use base tricks,
  For with joviall blades, I'm merry as the Maids,
    for he that made five made six.

  Then drink about round till sorrow be dround,
    and let us sing hey downe a derry,
  I cannot endure, to sit thus demure,
    for hither I came to be merry.
  Then plucke up a good heart before we depart,
    with my Hostesse we will make it even,
  For I am set a madding, and still will be adding,
    for he that made six made seven.

  Sad mellancholly will bring us to folly,
    and this is deaths principall magent, (_sic_)
  But this course I will take, it never shall make
    me looke otherwise than an agent.
  And in more content my time shall be spent,
    and I'le pay every man his right,
  Then hostesse go fill, and stand not so still,
    for he that made seven made eight.

  At home I confesse, with my wife honest _Besse_,
    I practise good husbandry well,
  I follow my calling, to keep me from falling;
    my neighbours about me that dwell
  Wil praise me at large for maintaining my charge,
    but when I to drinking incline
  I scorne for to shrinke, go fetch us more drinke,
    for he that made eight made nine.

  Then while we are here, wee'le drinke Ale & Beer,
    and freely our money wee'le spend,
  Let no man take care, for paying his share,
    if need be I'le pay for my friend.
  Then Hostesse make haste, and let no time waste,
    you're welcome all, kind Gentlemen,
  Never fear to Carowse, while there is beere in the house,
    for he that made nine made ten.

  Then Hostesse be quicker, and bring us more liquor,
    and let no attendance be missing,
  I cannot content me, to see the pot empty,
    a full cup is well worth the kissing.
  Then Hostesse go fetch us some, for till you do come,
    we are of all joyes bereaven,
  You know what I mean, make haste, come again,
    for he that made ten, made eleven.

  With merry solaces, quite voyd of all malice,
    with honest good fellowes thats here,
  No cursing nor swearing, no staring nor tearing,
    amongst us do seeme to appeare.
  When we have spent, all to labour we fall,
    for a living wee'le dig, or wee'le delve,
  Determin'd to be both bounteous and free,
    he that made eleven, made twelve.

  Now I think it is fit and most requisit,
    to drinke a health to our wives,
  The which being done, wee'le pay and be gone,
    strong drinke all our wits now deprives.
  Then, Hostesse, let's know the summe that we owe,
    twelve pence there is for certain
  Then fill t'other pot, and here's money for't
    for he that made twelve made thirteene.

FINIS.

London, Printed for _Henry Gossen_.

    [Footnote 179: Being mean, miserly.]


[52.] An untravelled Irish man intended to see England, and arriving
at London, chanced to light on a Barbers shoppe, supposing by his
cluster of Basons hanging at the door, it must of necessity be some
penny-pottage Ordinary: and, wanting the language, entred the shop,
and pointed to his mouth, meaning some victuals to stay his hunger.
The Barber gathered by this signe, that the poore fellow had pain in
his teeth, and desired to have one pluckt out; willed him to sit downe
in his Chaire, and approached with his dismall instruments towards the
fellows chaps. The Irishman began to wonder at this strange kinde of
feeding, giving the Barber to understand (so well as he could) he
was never brought up to that kinde of feeding, and with an unmannerly
thrust bad him, Avant.[F. 180] The Barber, half discontented, tumbled
the Irish man with his Chair upside down, who, sprawling on the ground
began to seeke after the doore, and made as much haste to his lodging
as he could: where, meeting with one of his Countrymen, hee prayed
him, of all loves, to depart this Country of England, and returne to
that worthy Ireland. For, (quoth he) they be ill divels here, and
no honest men, since when a poore stranger makes shew of hunger, the
knavish Inhabitants will break out men's teeth like dogs, and so send
us to our Country again with never a tooth in our heads: which caused
much good mirth to all that heard it.

    [Footnote 180: Avaunt, begone.]


[17.] A great Lord being in the Tower was visited by some other Lords;
and being merry, one began the Kings health, which he refused to
pledge. They told him 'twould be ill taken: Why truly, my Lords, saies
he, I'll pray for the Kings health, but drink for my own.


[4.] A gentleman ordr'd a Crane for Supper; but his Cook, having a
Sweetheart in a longing condition, cut off a Leg and sent her; so the
one Legg'd Crane was set on the Table, which the Gentleman seeing,
was enrag'd at his Cook; but he, being an arch Wag, readily told
the Gentleman that Cranes had but one Leg, and avowed it with that
Confidence, that he gain'd upon his wise Masters belief; but he,
resolving to observe it as he was walking in the Fields one Frosty
Morning, he saw a flock of Cranes, and, sending for his Cook, they
held up one of their Legs under their Wings, as is the Custom of those
birds in the cool weather. So, says his Cook, I hope your Worship is
satisfied that they have but one Leg; but the Gentleman going pretty
near to them, cries _Cush_, and frighted them up. Whereupon both Legs
appear'd. Look, says the Gentleman, they have now two Legs. Oh, says
the Cook, if you had cried _Cush_ to that in the Dish, it wou'd have
had two Legs too.


[26.] A Gentleman that had bred up a Young Colt, and had taught
him many pretty pieces of Activity, but one among the rest, that of
leaping so well, that no Ditch or Hedg, though never so broad or deep
but he whipt over: nay, an ordinary House was nothing with him, or
small Country Church also, but yet could never leap over the Steeple.
It fortun'd that the Gentleman having occasion to ride abroad on him,
came to a River that was about Twenty yards wide, which you'll say was
very broad; yet this poor beast leapt with him to the very brink of
the River on the other side, and there by chance lighted upon a stump
of a Tree which ran into his Belly; which the Master seeing, alighted,
and so left the poor Beast in that condition, yet would not kill him,
and so went away. About six months after, this Gentleman was riding
that way with his Man, and as they rode, says his Master, Don't you
see something move yonder? Yes, says he, I think I see a Tree go; and
coming near to it, they put aside all the Boughs, and there spied his
late Horse, which he thought had died there: so they cut off all the
Boughs, which were so many as to load almost three Carts, and then he
took the poor Beast home, and cur'd him of all but the stump of the
Tree which was in his Belly; and, indeed he need not do it, for he
receiv'd a great advantage by it every year; that is, at least two or
three load of Wood, which serv'd him to burn in his Chamber; for he
would never burn any other than that, out of the love he bore to
that poor beast of his. But some that heard him tell it, thought it
savour'd too much of the Legend: Why, if you won't believe me, ask my
Man, who knows it as well as I, and shall swear it too, if you please.


  Here at last doth she lie in quiet,      [18.]
  Who whilst she lived was ever unquiet.
  Her Husband prays, if by her Grave you walk,
  You'd gently tread, for if waked, she'll talk.


The following was written in 1646, and is a satire on the then feeling
of the army.

[Illustration: The Mercenary Souldier]


  I.

  No money yet, why then let's pawn our swords,      [100.]
  And drinke an health to their confusion
  Who doe instead of money send us words,
  Lets not be subject to the vain delusion
      Of those would have us fight without our pay,
      While money chinks, my Captain i'le obey.

  II.

  I'le not be slave to any servile Groom,
  Let's to the Sutlers and there drink and sing
  My Captain for a while shall have my room,
  Come hither _Tom_, of Ale two douzen bring,
      Plac'd Ranke and File, Tobacco bring us store,
      And as the Pots doe empty, fill us more.

  III.

  Let the Drum cease, and never murmure more,
  Untill it beat, warning us to repair
  Each man for to receive of Cash good store,
  Let not the Trumpet shril, ere rend the ayre,
      Untill it cites us to the place where we
      May heaps of silver for our payment see.

  IV.

  I come not forth to doe my Countrey good,
  I come to rob, and take my fill of pleasure,
  Let fools repel their foes with angry mood,
  Let those doe service while I share the treasure:
      I doe not mean my body ere shall swing
      Between a pare of crutches, tottering.

  V.

  Let thousands fall, it nee'r shall trouble me,
  Those puling fools deserve no better fate,
  They mirth's Apposers were, and still would be,
  Did they survive, let me participate,
      Of pleasures, gifts, while here I live, and I
      _Care not, although I mourne eternally_.

  VI.

  I laugh to think how many times I have
  Whiles others fighting were against the foe,
  Within some Thicket croucht myself to save,
  Yet taken for a valiant Souldier tho,
      When I amongst them come, for I with words,
      Can terrifie, as others can with swords.

  VII.

  Damme you Rogue if thou provoke my wroth
  [1]I'le carve thee up, and spit thee, joynt by joynt
  There's none that tasted of my fury hath,
  But fear and tremble lest I should appoint
      A second penance from them, when my brow
      Is bent, marke how the rascalls to me bow.

    [Sidenote 1: Canes qui multum latrant, raro mordent.]

  VIII.

  Thus menacing I'm taken for to be
  A man indeed, when I should fear to fight
  With coward _Thersites_, and if that he
  Were my Antagonist, but I delight
  To fight and pash dame _Ceres_ treasure[2]
  To quaff _Lyen's_ bloud[3] I take great pleasure.

    [Sidenote 2: All manner of victuals.]

    [Sidenote 3: Wine.]

  IX.

  Proceed yee brethren, doe each other hate,
  And fight it to the last, _I wish the Wars
  May ever untill doomsday prosperate_,
  And time nee'r see a period of the jars:
      For I before like to a slave did live,
      Now like unto a _Lurdain_[4] doe I thrive.

    [Sidenote 4: An ignominious name given the _Danes_
    by _English_ men, for their slothfull and lasie living.]

  X.

  Fill us more Ale, me thinks thy lazie gate
  Is slower than the Tortoise, make more speed,
  An tha'st a Female of an easie rate
  Lets see her, for my flesh doth tumults breed:
      _Run on, thoul't wish when that day comes thou must
      Give an account, that thou hadst been more just_.


[86.] A Country honest fellow upon the first coming out of the
Parliament coyne, taking it in his hand, and turning it backward and
forward; when he had read the circumscription of it, said, Here are
Crosses enough, I trow me, but how long they shall last I know not,
for I see here _the Commonwealth of England_, and _God with Us_ are
not of one side.


[93.] _George_ (_Peele_) on a time being happily furnished both of
horse and money, though the horse he hired, and the money he borrowed:
but no matter how he was possest of them, and towards Oxford he rides
to make merry with his friends and fellow students: and in his way
he tooke Wickham, where he sojourned that night: Being at supper
accompanied with his Hostis, among other table-talke, they fell into
discourse of Chirurgerie, of which my Hostis was a simple professor.
_George Peele_ observing the humour of my she Chirurgion, upheld
her in all the strange cures she talked of, and praised her womanly
endevour; telling her, he loved her so much the better, because it was
a thing that he professed, both Physicke and Chirurgirie; and _George_
had a Dictionary of Physicall words, that it might set a better glosse
upon that which he seemingly profest: and told his good Hostis, at his
returne he would teach her something that should doe her no hurt; for
(quoth he) at this instant I am going about a great Cure as farre as
Warwick-shire to a Gentleman of great living, and one that hath beene
in a Consumption this half yeare, and I hope to doe him good. O God
(quoth the Hostis) there is a Gentleman not a quarter of a Mile off,
that hath beene a long time sicke of the same disease: Beleeve
me, Sir, (quoth the Hostis) would it please your Worship e're your
departure in the morning, but to visit the Gentleman, and but spend
your opinion of him, and I make no question but the Gentlewoman will
bee very thankfull to you. I' faith (quoth _George_) happely at my
returne I may, but at this time my haste is such that I cannot: and
so good night, mine Hostis. So away went _George_ to bed; and my giddy
Hostis, right of the nature of most women, thought that night as long
as tenne, till shee was delivered of that burthen of newes which she
had received from my new Doctor: (for so hee termed himselfe).
Morning being come, at breake of the day, mine Hostis trudges to this
Gentlemans house, acquainteth his wife what an excellent man she had
at her house: protesting he was the best seene in Physicke, and had
done the most strangest cures that ever she heard of; saying that if
shee would but send for him, no question he would doe him good. The
Gentlewoman glad to heare of any thing that might procure the health
of her Husband, presently sent one of her men, to desire the Doctor
to come and visit her Husband. Which message when _George_ heard, hee
wondred; for hee had no more skill in Physicke than in Musicke, and
they were as distant both from him, as heaven from hell. But, to
conclude, _George_ set a bold face on it, and away he went to the
sicke Gentleman; where, when hee came, after some complement to
the Gentlewoman, hee was brought to the Chamber, where the ancient
Gentleman lay wonderfull sicke: for all Physicke had given him over:
George beginnes to feele his Pulses and his temples, saying, hee was
very farre spent; yet, quoth hee, under God I will doe him some good,
if Nature bee not quite extinct. Whereupon hee demanded whether they
had ever a Garden? That I have, quoth the Gentlewoman. I pray you
direct me thither, quoth _George_. Where, when hee came, hee cut a
handfull of every Flowre, Herbe and Blossome, or whatsoever else
in the Garden, and brought them in the lapid[F. 181] of his Cloake,
boyled them in Ale, strained them, boyled them againe, and when he
had all the juyce out of them, of which he made some pottle[F. 182] of
drinke, he caused the sicke Gentleman to drinke off a maudlin[F. 183]
Cup full, and willed his wife to give him of that same at morninge,
noone, and night: protesting, if any thing in this world did him good,
it must bee that: giving great charge to the Gentlewoman to keepe him
wonderfull warme: and at my returne, quoth _George_, some tenne dayes
hence, I will returne and see how hee fares: For, quoth he, by that
time something will be done; and so I will take my leave. Not so,
quoth the Gentlewoman, your Worshippe must needes stay and take a
simple dinner with mee to day. Indeede, quoth _George_, I cannot now
stay, my haste is such, I must presently to Horse. You may suppose
_George_ was in haste untill he was out of the Gentleman's house: for
hee knew not whether he had poysoned the Gentleman or not, which made
him so eager to bee gone out of the Gentleman's house. The Gentlewoman
seeing shee could by no meanes stay him, gave him two brace of Angels,
which never shined long in his purse, and desired him at his returne
to know her house: which _George_ promised, and with seeming nicenesse
took the gold, and towards Oxford went he, fortie shillings heavier
than he was, where hee bravely domineered while his Physicall money
lasted. But to see the strangenesse of this: Whether it was the vertue
of some herbe which hee gathered, or the conceit the Gentleman had of
_George Peele_, but it so pleased God the Gentleman recovered, and in
eight dayes walked abroad; and that fortunate potion which _George_
made at randome, did him more good than many pounds that he had spent
in halfe a yeere before in Physicke. _George_ his money being spent,
he made his returne towards London; and when he came within a mile
of the Gentlemans house, hee enquired of a Countrey fellow how such a
Gentleman did. The Fellow told him, God be praised, his good Landlord
was well recovered by a vertuous Gentleman that came this way by
chance. Art thou sure of it? quoth _George_. Yes, beleeve me, quoth
the fellow, I saw him in the Fields but this morning. This was no
simple newes to _George_. He presently set spurres to his Horse, and
whereas hee thought to shunne the Towne, hee went directly to his
Inne: at whose arrivall, the Hostis clapt her hands, the Oastler
laught, the Tapster leapt, the Chamberlaine ran to the Gentlemans
house, and told him the Doctor was come. How joyfull the Gentleman
was, let them imagine that have any after-healths. _George Peele_ was
sent for, and after a Million of thankes from the Gentleman and his
friends, _George Peele_ had 20 pounds delivered him: which money, how
long it was a spending, let the Tavernes in London witnesse.

    [Footnote 181: Lappet.]

    [Footnote 182: A measure of two quarts.]

    [Footnote 183: Query, _middling_-sized.]


  A Man of _Wales_ between _S^t David's_ day and _Easter_,      [14.]
  Was on's host score for cheese great store, a tester.
  His host did chalk it up behind the doore,
  And said, For cheese, good Sir, come pay your score.
  I wonder then, quoth he, what meaneth these?
  Dost think her Country knows not chalk from Cheese?



THE

Merry Gossip's Vindication,

To the Groats worth of good Councel Declaration.


  Some Women can drink, and be drunk night and day,
  For all the fault is laid most on the Men, they do say,
  For if a Man do intend for to thrive,
  Then he must be sure to ask leave of his Wife.


To the Tune of _Digbies Farewel_.

[Illustration]


  A Company of Gossips that love strong bub,[F. 184]
    that met at an Alehouse, and there they did club,
  They called for the short Pot, and likewise for the long,
    come Tapster, be quick, for we soon must begon.
  They cupt it about, and they made such great hast,
    till their nose and their face were all of a blaze.
  _A Man he may work all the days of his life,
    but he must ask his Wife's leave if he intends for to thrive._

  What is't for a Man to marry a Wife,
    if she proves a drunkard, hee'l be weary of his Life,
  As there is in _London_ and _England_ all or'e
    they'l take it so sweetly till they lye on the floor.
  When a knot of merry Gossips are gotten together,
    they then take no care for fare or foul weather.
  _There's many a Husband takes pains and do's thrive,
    but he must ask his Wife's leave if he intend for to thrive._

  When the Ale and the Brandy doth work in their head,
    they care not a pin how their Children are fed,
  Then one saies here Sister i'le drink unto thee
    our Husbands are bound to maintain us truly.
  I have a shilling saies one, I have two saies another,
    we will let it fly now we are together.
  _And thus you may see although a Man strive
    he must ask his Wifes leave if he intend for to thrive._

  When their Bellies are full they are bound to give o're,
    they have drunken so much they can drink no more,
  Then they'l hast to go home when they hardly can stand,
    you laugh for to see them then go hand in hand.
  A Man he is mad that hath got such a Wife,
    he may work and may toyl all the days of his Life.
              _There's many a Husband &c_

  They tottor and wattor and fall in the Dirt,
    then the Boys they will shout, and them will make sport,
  Sometimes they cry a Hare and sometimes cry a ----
    to see them so drunk then they cry out the more;
  Its a inconvenience for a Woman (to) do so
    to take so much drink that she can hardly go.
              _There's many a Husband &c_--

  There is some that is known that will drink all the day,
    & within night come home drunk, & not a word they can say,
  I'le promise you true there so heavy i' th' head,
    they lye on the Stairs and they cannot go (to) Bed:
  It needs now must be a great shame unto those,
    for a Woman so drunk she cannot put of her Cloaths.
              _There's many a Husband &c_

  Some Women will set there Husband o' th' Skore,
    more than they are able to pay to be sure,
  When they are absent and taking of Pains,
    thus they lye at the Alehouse, and consume all their gains;
  Which makes many a Man to fret all his life,
    because he is so tide to such a careless Wife.
              _There's many a Husband &c_

  But for civil good Women I have nothing to say,
    they deserve a great praise though all these go astray,
  They are a great shame to the rest of their Sex,
    and many a good Woman to see them is vext:
  For a Woman to bring herself in such a Snare,
    and of Husband and Children have no better care.
              _There's many a Husband &c_

  It is good for a Woman (to) live in a good way,
    & keep at home with her Family, that nothing goes astray,
  Then her Husband will love her the better sure,
    and let her want nothing that he can procure:
  For a Woman that's given to wast and consume,
    makes many a honest man be not for home.
              _There's many a Husband &c_

  What is't for a Woman to drink and to swill,
    and never be satisfied till her Belly be full,
  And then there, one husband they straight will abuse,
    with all the base names that they ever can use:
  And then, if her Husband but strike her a blow,
    she ready crys Murther, all this we may know.
              _There's many a Husband &c_

  And now all good Women that heareth this Song,
    I pray you forgive me if I have done you any wrong,
  I will not condemn all for half a Skore,
    I dare say in our Parish, wee have a great many more:
  Besides other places; God send them to mend,
    and then I do hope they take me for their friend.
              _There's many a Husband &c_

  And now to conclude, there is no more to be said,
    I wish that this Song it often be read
  Amongst the good Women that love for to club,
    and spendeth their money in Brandy and Bub:
  And then you shall see what brave days they will spend,
    your Housekeeping will be better at every Day's end.
              _There's many a Husband &c_

Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pye Corner.

    [Footnote 184: Drink.]


[52.] A Gentleman of Franckford in Germany, had borowed of a Jew (of
the same town) a thousand Duckets,[F. 185] and missing his day of
payment, he sought from time to time to absent himself from his
Creditor. Not long after, the Jew espied him going into a Barbers
shop, and ran presently and fetcht a couple of Sergeants to arrest
the debter, now at the Barbers a trimming. Which done the Jew came
and found the Gentleman halfe shaved, and demanded whether hee would
instantly discharge his debt, or accept the arrest. The Gentleman
being driven to a non plus, caught sudden hold of his sword and asked
the Jew if hee would not attend till his beard was all shaved? The
Jew answered, Yea, with all his heart. Why then, (quoth the Gentleman)
Barber and Serjeants beare witnesse what the Jew hath promised.
Contented (quoth the Jew.) Well, Barber, then I will not have my beard
shaven this twelve moneth. The Jew began to stamp, curse, and ban, and
finally procured the Sergeants to carry him before a Governor, who,
well considering the matter, dismissed both the gentleman and the
Jew, as both free men, without farther challenge of debt, untill the
Gentlemans beard was all shaven, which till his dying day he never
suffered. And the Jew lost his money.

    [Footnote 185: A coin struck by dukes: a ducat was worth in
    silver about 4s. 6d., in gold about 9s. 6d.]


[17.] A new Mayors Wife of a Town in the West, came to Church the
first _Sunday_ after her husband was chosen; and just as she came into
the Church, the people began to stand up at the Creed; which the poor
heart mistook, and took it to be an honour done purposely to her; An't
please God, says she, I'll requite you all before my Husband goes out
of his Office.


[4.] A certain King being sick, one pray'd that he might reign as long
as the Sun and Moon should endure, and the Prince his Son after him.


[4.] Some Scholars having a spight against their Master, because of
his Harshness to them, resolved to play him some trick; so knowing him
to be a very Curious neat Man, they daubed the Railes of the Stairs
with some Tar. Now the Master coming down in the Dark, laid his Hands
in it, which set him into a terrible feu'd; so he call'd all his
Schollars, and took them into strict Examination; but, suspecting one
above the rest, he was very sharp upon him, urging him to confess it,
telling him he did it. The Boy utterly denied it; but the Master
was the more pressing upon him. Indeed, said the Lad, with all the
Asseverations imaginable, I did it not, but if you please, I'll tell
you who had a hand in it: Hereupon the Master thought to have found
out the Truth, and so very eagerly asked him who? Your Worship, Sir,
says he: Whereupon he was dismissed, with the applause of all his
Fellows, for his Ingenuity.


[26.] In a discourse at Table, wherein they chiefly treated of strange
things, and one among them said, that he had a piece of the Hawthorn
Tree in a Box, which always bloom'd on Christmass day for many years
together, and at last was robb'd of it by some of the Parliament
Forces, and could never get it again. Why, says one, how could it live
and bloom as you say without some earth, or the Sun's influence? Why,
says he, d'ye think if it have that vertue to bloom on Christmass-day,
that it had not the vertue also to bloom without the help of the Sun
or earth? and so let out some Oaths to confirm it.

But another being by, to fit him in his Story; and to make it appear
to be truth (as you know it was) began to confirm what t'other had
said, with some Oaths too. For, says he, I my self have seen that
Haw thorn Tree bloom a hundred Christmas-day, and if I were to say
a Hundred more, I should not lie; and I went once thither, when they
were come to the Berries, which were red, large and hard; and so took
some of them, and button'd me a Suit and Coat with it, as the fashion
is now (for you know our fashion in England for Cloaths never alters)
and when I and some others were at Church together upon Christmass
day in the morning, little thinking of it, about Ten of the Clock
precisely (he swore) that the branches sprung out so fast and so
thick, that he was covered all over with them; insomuch that he lookt
as if he had been in a Wood, and so heavy they were upon him, that he
could not stir till one went out of the Church and fetcht an Axe, and
cut away all the Boughs, that he might see his way out; and when they
had done, he went home in this posture to his lodging; and swore also,
that there was as much Wood cut off, as serv'd him all that Winter
for fewel to his Chamber; but however, says he, I had rather be at the
charge of the Wood than to be served so agen. But Gentlemen I tell you
this to confirm what that worthy Gentleman told you before: whereas
you were in doubt for a great while whether it was truth or no: but I
hope there's no doubt now: and so swore it agen.


[78.] One demanded of a wild yong Gentleman the reason why he would
sel his land? who answered because he hoped to go to heven, which he
could not possibly do til he forsook earth.


  Learning hath fed me, yet I know no letter,      [91.]
  I have liv'd among books, yet am never the better:
  I have eaten up the Muses, yet I know not a verse,
  What student is this, I pray you rehearse?

_Resolution_, A Worme bred in a booke.


[18.] A Preacher, whose Sermons no body cared to hear, intreated a
Friend of his to come to hear him. But he begged his Excuse, saying,
that he was loth to disturb him in his Solitude. Another who had not
the luck to please his Auditors; He did better last Year, said one.
How can that be? said another, for he did not preach at all. In that
very Thing he did better, reply'd the first.


[17.] One told a Bakers Son, that his Father was a Knave: Truly, says
he, _Though I say it, that should not say it_, my Father is as honest
a man as ever lived by bread.



the complaint of M. Tenter-hooke the _Proiector_, and Sir _T_homas
Dodger the _Patentee_.[F. 186]

[Illustration:
  "I have brought money to fill your Chest
  For which I am curst by most and least."

  "Ov'r many yeare a scraping is left at a clap,
  All thou hast gotten by others mishap."
]

  _If any aske, what things these_ Monsters _be,
  Tis a_ Projector _and a_ Patentee:
  _Such, as like Vermine o're this Land did crawle,
  And grew so rich, they gaind the Devill and all._

    [Footnote 186: "On a broadside, entitled as above, is a
    woodcut, which represents a 'Projector' who has a pig's (?
    fox's) face, a fox's ears, screws for legs, and fish hooks for
    fingers, bears a measure of coal, and a barrel of wine on his
    legs respectively, tobacco pipes, dice, roll tobacco, playing
    cards, and a bundle of hay slung to his body, papers of pins
    on his right arm, and a measure for spirits on his left arm, a
    barrel (? for soap or butter) and a dredger, (? for starch) on
    the skirts of his coat.

    "The introduction of screws here may be illustrated by the
    speech of Alderman Chambers, who was prosecuted in the Star
    Chamber for saying that merchants were more screwed up
    and wronged in England than in Turkey; he was fined
    £2000."--_Catalogue of Prints and Drawings in the British
    Museum_, No. 263.]


  Loe I, that lately was a _Man_ of fashion      [101.]
  The _Bug-beare_ and the _Scarcrow_ of this Nation
  Th' admired mighty _Mountee banke_ of _Fame_,
  The Juggling _Hocus Pocus_ of good name,
  The Bull-begger, who did affright and feare,
  And rake, and pull, teare, pill, pole, shave, and sheare,
  Now _Time_ hath pluck'd the _Vizard_ from my face,
  I am the onely Image of disgrace.
  My ugly shape I hid so cunningly
  (Close cover'd with the cloake of honesty)
  That from the _East_ to _West_ from _South_ to _North_,
  I was a man esteem'd of ex'lent worth.
  And (Sweet Sir _Thomas Dodger_) for your sake,
  My studious time I spent, my sleepes I brake,
  My braines I tost with many a strange vagary,
  And (like a Spaniell) did both fetch and carry,
  To you, such _Projects_, as I could invent,
  Not thinking there would come a Parliament.
  I was the great _Projector_, and from me,
  Your Worship learn'd to be a _Patentee_,
  I had the Art to cheat the Common-weale,
  And you had tricks and slights to passe the Seale.
  I tooke the paines, I travell'd, search'd, and sought
  Which, (by your power) were into Patents wrought.
  What was I but your journey man, I pray,
  To bring youre worke to you, both night and day:
  I found _Stuffe_, and you brought it so about
  You (like a skilfull _Taylor_) cut it out,
  And fashion'd it, but now (to our displeasure)
  You fail'd exceedingly in taking measure.
  My legs were Screws, to raise thee high or low,
  According as your power did _Ebbe_ or _Flow_:
  And at your will I was Screwd up too high
  That tott'ring, I have broke my necke thereby.
  For you, I made my _Fingers fish-hookes_ still
  To catch at all _Trades_, either good or ill,
  I car'd not much who lost, so we might get,
  For all was _Fish_ that came into the Net.
  For you, (as in my Picture plaine appeares)
  I put a _Swines face_ on, an _Asses eares_,
  The one to listen unto all I heard
  Wherein your Worships profit was prefer'd,
  The other to tast all things, good or bad.
  (As Hogs will doe) where profit may be had.
  _Soape_, _Starch_, _Tobacco_, _Pipes_, _Pins_, _Butter_, _Haye_,
  _Wine_, _Coales_, _Cards_, _Dice_, and all came in my way,
  I brought your worship, every day and houre,
  And hope to be defended by your power.

Sir _Thomas Dodgers Answer_.

  Alas good _Tenter hooke_, I tell thee plaine,
  To seeke for helpe of me tis but in vaine:
  My _Patent_ which I stood upon of late,
  Is like an _Almanacke_ that's out of _Date_.
  T'had force and vertue once, strange things to doe,
  But now it wants both force and vertue too.
  This was the turne of whirling _Fortune's_ wheele,
  When we least dream'd we should her changing feele.
  Then _Time_, and fortune, both with joynt consent
  Brought us to ruine by a Parliament:
  I doe confesse thou broughtst me sweet conceits
  Which now I find were but alluring baits,
  And I, (too much an Asse) did lend mine eare,
  To credit all thou saydst, as well as heare.
  Thou in the _Project_ of the _Soape_ didst toyle,
  But 'twas so slippery, and too full of oyle,
  That people wondred how we held it fast
  But now it is quite slipp'd from us at last.
  The _Project_ for the _Starch_ thy wit found out,
  Twas stiffe a while, now limber as a Clout,
  The Pagan weed (_Tobacco_) was our hope
  In _Leafe_, _Pricke_, _Role_, _Ball_, _Pudding_, _Pipe_, or _Rope_.
  _Brasseele_, _Varina_, _Meavis_, _Trinidado_,
  Saint _Christophers_, _Virginia_, or _Barvado_;
  _Bermudas_, _Providentia_, _Shallowcongo_,
  And the most part of all the rest (_Mundungo_[F. 187]).
  That Patent, with a whiffe is spent and broke,
  And all our hopes (in fumo) turn'd to smoake.
  Thou framdst the _Butter_ Patent in thy braines,
  (A Rope and Butter take thee for thy paines.)
  I had forgot _Tobacco Pipes_, which are
  Now like to thou and I, but brittle ware.
  _Dice_ run against us, we at _Cards_ are crost,
  We both are turn'd up _Noddies_,[F. 188] and all's lost.
  Thus from _Sice-sinke_,[F. 189] we'r sunke below _Dewce-ace_,[F. 190]
  And both of us are Impes of blacke disgrace.
  _Pins_ pricke us, and _Wine_ frets our very hearts.
  That we have rais'd the price of _Pints_ and _Quarts_.
  Thou (in mine eares) thy lyes and tales didst foyst.
  And madst me up the price of _Sea-coales_ hoyst.
  _Corne_, _Leather_, _Partrich_, _Pheasant_, _Rags_, _Gold twist_,
  Thou brought'st all to my _Mill_, what was't we mist?
  _Weights_, _Bon lace_,[F. 191] _Mowstraps_, new, new, _Corporation_,
  _Rattles_, _Seadans_,[F. 192] of rare invented fashion,
  _Silke_, _Tallow_, _Hobby-horses_, _Wood_, _red herring_,
  _Law_, _Conscience_, _Justice_, _swearing_, and _For-swearing_.
  All these thou broughtst to me, and still I thought
  That every thing was good that profit brought,
  But now all's found to be ill gotten pelfe,
  I'le shift for one, doe thou shift for thyselfe.

Finis.

John Taylor[F. 193]

London. Printed by _E. P._ for _Francis Coles_, dwelling in the Old
Baily. 1641.

    [Footnote 187: Trashy tobacco--from the Spanish _Mondóngo_,
    paunch, tripes, black pudding.]

    [Footnote 188: Fools; but there was also a game at cards
    called noddy, supposed to have been the same as cribbage.]

    [Footnote 189: Corrupt French terms used for the numbers on
    dice--six-five.]

    [Footnote 190: Two-one.]

    [Footnote 191: Bone-lace.]

    [Footnote 192: Sedan chairs, which are said to have been
    introduced into England in 1581, and first used in London in
    1623. Sir Sanders Duncombe obtained a patent, or privilege,
    for them in 1634.]

    [Footnote 193: The water poet.]


[82.] A _Mayor_ that was on hunting (by chance) one asked him how hee
liked the _Cry_: a pox take the _Dogs_, saith he, they make such a
bawling, that I cannot heare the _Cry_.


[82.] An old Justice was fast asleepe on the Bench when a poore
Malefactor was judged to bee hanged; at which word the Justice
suddenly awaked, and said to the Thiefe, My friend, I pray let this
bee a warning to you, looke you doe so no more, for wee doe not show
every man the like favour.


[94.] One seeing another wear a Threadbare Cloak, asked him whether
his Cloak was not sleepy, or no? Why do you ask? said the other.
Because, saith he, I think it hath not had a Nap this seven years.


  _Monsieur Domingo_ is a skilfull man,      [102.]
  For much experience he hath lately got,
  Proving more Physick in an alehouse can,
  Than may be found in any Vintner's Pot;
  Beere he protests is sodden and refin'd,
  But this he speakes, being single penny lin'd,

  For when his purse is swolne but sixpence bigge,
  Why then he sweares; now by the Lord I thinke
  All Beere in Europe is not worth a figge:
  A cup of Claret is the onely drinke,
  And thus his praise from Beere to Wine doth goe
  Even as his Purse in pence doth ebbe and flowe.


[93.] _George_ (_Peele_) was invited one night by certaine of his
friends to supper, at the White Horse in Friday Street: and in the
evening as he was going, hee met with an old friend of his, who was so
ill at the stomacke, hearing _George_ tell him of the good cheere he
went to, himselfe being unprovided both of meate and money, that he
swore he had rather have gone a mile about, than have met him at that
instant. And beleeve me, quoth George, I am heartily sorry that I
cannot take thee along with mee, myselfe being but an invited guest;
besides, thou art out of Cloathes, unfitting for such a company. Mary,
this I'le doe, if thou wilt follow my advice, I'le help thee to thy
supper. Any way, quoth hee to _George_ doe thou but devise the meanes,
and I'le execute it. _George_ presently told him what hee should doe;
so they parted. _George_ (was) well entertained, with extraordinary
welcome, and seated at the upper end of the Table; Supper being
brought up, H.M. watched his time below; and when he saw that the
meate was carried up, up hee followes, (as _George_ had directed him)
who when _George_ saw, You whorson Rascall (quoth _George_) what make
you heere? Sir, quoth he, I am come from the partie you wot of. You
Rogue, quoth _George_, have I not forewarned you of this? I pray
you, Sir, quoth hee, heare my Errand. Doe you prate, you Slave? quoth
_George_, and with that, tooke a Rabbet out of the Dish, and threw
it at him. Quoth hee, you use me very hardly. You Dunghill, quoth
_George_, doe you out face me? and with that took the other Rabbet,
and threw it at his head; after that a Loafe; then drawing his dagger,
making an offer to throw it, the Gentleman staid him: meane while
HM. got the Loafe and the two Rabbets, and away he went: which when
_George_ saw he was gone, after a little fretting, he sate quietly.
So by that honest shift, hee helped his friend to his supper, and was
never suspected for it of the Company.


[17.] Two Clerks belonging to one Church, and having both of them sate
up most part of the night, were both asleep when Sermon was done: a
man jogg'd one of them, and bid him sing a Psalm, for Sermon was done.
Sing, _All People_, saies he: The other then awak'd, and hearing him
say so said, _Hang all people_, sing me the _hundred Psalm_.


[4.] One boasting of his Credit, said, He knew a Scrivener that would
lend him Fifty Pounds at any time, on his own Bond, without either
Scrip or Scrowl.


[26.] One told a Story that a Miller had a Horse for many years
together, whose name was _Roan_, and being tired with working all day,
poor Jade, slept soundly at night; which a thievish fellow espying,
flay'd off his Skin, whilest he slept, and went away with it: But Old
_Roan_ when he awak't (though 'twas a bitter cold night) yet, poor
thing, he came home to the Mill door and neighed very loud, which the
honest Miller, hearing, awak't his Wife, and askt her whether that was
not the neighing of old _Roan_? Truly, Husband, says she, it is, let
us rise and see what's the matter with him; and when they came out,
they wondred to see him in such a pickle: Well Husband, says she,
since 'tis as 'tis, I'd have you kill Five or Six of your Sheep (and
tomorrow being Market Day, we can sell their Flesh there) and take
all the Skins and clap 'em hot upon poor Roan; which he presently did,
with his dear Wife's help, and clapt them hot upon the Horse's flay'd
Back; which with the Cold night were presently froz'd on, and the
Horse as well or rather better in health than ever he was in his life,
and I am sure you'll say warmer: And this Horse, said he, they kept
for many years after, and every year it brought him Thirty Tod[F. 194]
of Wool: And I hope you will believe it; but if you dont believe it,
I pray take notice, that I am not bound to find you stories and belief
too. Then they all concluded it was true--lie so.

    [Footnote 194: A tod of wool weighs 28 lbs.]


[91.] What is that which produceth teares without sorrow, takes his
journey to heaven, but dies by the way, is begot by another, yet that
other is not begot without it? _Resolution._ Smoake.


[103.] A Clipper[F. 195] being Sentenc'd to Death, when he came to
_Tyburn_, the Parson was very busie in preparing him for another
World, amongst other things he told the Criminal, that it was no small
Happiness to have had so much time to Repent, that he might have died
suddenly, and by many Accidents, and so have been snatch'd away in
a Moment, and gone Headlong down to Hell; but that now he was almost
sure he shou'd go to Heaven, and lie in _Abraham's_ Bosom; Say you so,
Sir, says the poor Patient, 'tis very good News, but if you please you
shall have my Place, for I had rather stay here a little longer.

    [Footnote 195: Of coin, a capital offence.]


[17.] A Witch being at the stake to be burnt, she saw her Son there;
and being very dry, desir'd him to give her some drink: No, Mother,
says the Sweet conditioned Son, 'twill do you wrong, for the dryer you
be, you'll burn all the better.


[4.] A foolish young Esquire, being newly come to his Estate (taking
after the old Miser his Father, grew covetous.) He hearing his Steward
say, he had killed him a Bullock against Christmas. What, said he, do
you mean to undo me by such extravagant Expenses? I will have but half
a one killed at a time.



A Song in Praise of the Leather Bottel.[F. 196]

  Shewing how Glasses, and Pots are laid aside,
  And Flaggons and Noggins they cannot abide;
  And let all Wives do what they can,
  'Tis for the Praise and Use of Man;
  And this you may very well be sure,
  The Leather Bottel will longest endure;
  And I wish in Heaven his Soul may dwell
  That first devised the Leather Bottel

To the Tune of _The Bottle Maker's Delight_, &c.

  God above that made all things,      [104.]
  The Heavens, the Earth, and all therein,
  The Ships that on the Sea do Swim,
  To keep Enemies out that none comes in;
  And let them do all what they can,
  'Tis for the Use and Praise of Man.
      _And I wish in Heaven his Soul may dwell
      That first devised the Leather Bottel._

  Then what do you say to these Cans of Wood?
  In faith they are, and can, not be good;
  For when a Man he doth them send
  To be filled with Ale, as he doth intend;
  The Bearer falleth down by the way.
  And on the ground the Liquor doth lay;
  And then the Bearer begins to ban,
  And swears it is long of the Wooden Can.
  But had it been the Leather Bottel,
  Although he had fallen, yet all had been well
    _Then I Wish &c._

[Illustration]

  Then what do you say to these Glasses fine?
  Yes, they shall have no Praise of mine;
  For when a Company they are set
  For to be merry, as we are met;
  Then if you chance to touch the Brim,
  Down falls the Liquor and all therein,
  If your Table Cloath be never so fine,
  There lies your Beer, Ale, or Wine:
  It may be for a small Abuse,
  A young Man may his Service lose;
  But had it been a Leather Bottel,
  And the Stopple in, then all had been well.
    _And I wish &c_

  Then what do you say these black Pots three?
  True, they shall have no praise of me,
  For when a Man and his Wife falls at Strife,
  As many have done, I know, in their Life;
  They lay their Hands on the Pot both,
  And loth they are to lose their Broath;
  The one doth tug, the other doth hill,
  Betwixt them both the Liquor doth spill;
  But they shall answer another Day,
  For casting their liquor so vainly away;
  But had it been in the Leather Bottel,
  They might have tugg'd till their Hearts did ake,
  And yet their Liquor no harm could take;
  They might have tugg'd till their Hearts did ake.
    _Then I wish &c_

  Then what do you say to the Silver Flaggons fine?
  True, they shall have no Praise of mine;
  For when a Lord he doth them send
  To be filled with Wine as he doth intend;
  The Man with the Flaggon he doth run away,
  Because it is Silver most gallant and gay:
  O then the Lord he begins to ban,
  And swears he hath lost both Flaggon and Man;
  There's never a Lord's Serving-man or Groom,
  But with his Leather Bottel may come;
    _Then I wish &c_

  A Leather Bottel we know is good,
  Far better than Glasses or Cans of Wood,
  For when a Man is at work in the Field,
  Your Glasses and Pots no Comfort will yield;
  Then a Leather Bottle standing him by,
  He may drink always when he is a dry;
  It will revive the Spirits, and comfort the Brain,
  Wherefore let none this Bottle refrain;
    _For I wish &c_

  Also the honest Sith-man[F. 197] too,
  He knew not very well what to do,
  But for his Bottle standing him near,
  That is filled with good Household beer;
  At Dinner he sits him down to eat,
  With his good hard Cheese and Bread or Meat;
  Then this Bottle he takes up amain,
  And drinks, and sets him down again;
  Saying, Good Bottle, stand my Friend,
  And hold out till this day doth end;
    _For I wish &c_

  And likewise the Haymakers they,
  When as they are turning and making their Hay;
  In Summer-weather, when as it is warm,
  A good Bottel full then will do them no harm;
  And at Noon time they sit them down,
  And drink in their Bottels of Ale Nut Brown;
  Then the Lads and the Lasses begin to tattle,
  What should we do but for this Bottle?
  They could not work if this Bottle were done,
  For the Day's so hot with heat of Sun.
    _Then I wish &c_

  Also the Leader, Lader, and the Pitcher,
  The Reaper, Hedger and the Ditcher,
  The Binder, and the Raker and all
  About the Bottels ears do fall;
  And if his Liquor be almost gone,
  His Bottel will he part with to none,
  But says, my Bottel is but small
  One Drop I will not part withal:
  You must go drink at some Spring or Well,
  For I will keep my Leather Bottel.
    _Then I wish &c_

  Thus you may hear of a Leather Bottel,
  When as it is filled with Liquor full well,
  Though the Substance of it be but small,
  Yet the Name of the thing is all.
  There's never a Lord, an Earl or Knight,
  But in a Bottel doth take Delight:
  For when he is hunting of the Deer,
  He often doth wish for a Bottel of Beer:
  Likewise the Man that works at the Wood,
  A Bottel of Beer doth oft do him good
    _Then I wish &c_

  Then when this Bottel doth grow old,
  And will good Liquor no longer hold,
  Out of the Side you may take a Clout,
  Will mend your Shooes when they'r worn out;
  Else take it and hang it upon a Pin,
  It will serve to put many odd Trifles in,
  As Hinges, Awls, and Candle-ends,
  For young Beginners must have such things;
    _Then I wish in Heaven his Soul may dwell,
    That first devised the Leather Bottel_.

_London_: Printed by and for _W. O._ and sold by the Booksellers of
_Pye Corner_, and _London Bridge_.

    [Footnote 196: For tune, see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 197: Mower.]


[105.] When _Scogin_ had broght to Oxford such things as he had in
London, hee lacked furres for his gownes, and Miniver furres for
his hood. Whereupon hee went to an Alderman in Oxford, which was a
Skinner, and said unto him, It is so that I must proceed Master of
Arts, at the next Act, and I have bestowed my money at London, and now
I have need of furres (as you know) wherefore if I shall have of you
as much as shall serve me, I will content you with thankes. Then said
the Alderman, make your gownes and your hood, and send them to me,
and they shall be furred as other Masters be. Then said _Scogin_, you
shall have them within these two days, and then I pray you make me
a bill what I shall pay for every thing. It shall be done, said the
Alderman. When as the gownes and hood were furred, he went to fetch
them home, and said to the Alderman, I pray you let me see my charge:
the bill was brought forth, and the sum did rise to sixe pound and
odde money. The Alderman said, When shall I have my money? Scogin
answered, within these seven weeks, or else the next time that you and
I doe meet after the said terme set.[F. 198] The terme of time
passed over, and the Alderman sent for his money. Scogin said to the
messenger, have me commended to Master Alderman, and tell him when he
and I doe meet, I will content him according to my promise; so, on a
time, _Scogin_ went to Korfax,[F. 199] and he espied the Alderman, and
then he returned backe. The Alderman made good footing after him to
overtake him and said unto him, Sir, you said that you would pay me
my money within seven weekes, or else any time after that we did meet
together. It is true, said _Scogin_, my day is expired, but my promise
is not broken; No, said the Alderman, so that you pay me my money now.
Now, said _Scogin_, nay not so, wee meet not together yet, for now you
did but overtake me, and when we doe meet, you shall have your money;
but if I can, said _Scogin_, I will not meet you this seven Yeares,
if I can go backward. Wherefore a plaine bargain is best, and in
bargaines making, fast bind, fast find.

    [Footnote 198: Commences.]

    [Footnote 199: Carfax, a place in Oxford, where four streets
    meet; supposed to be a corruption of _quatre voies_.]


[103.] A Gentleman having left a Bag of Money in a Hackney Coach,
besides an Advertisement in the _Gazet_, he put up a paper at the
_Exchange_, that he would give a sixth part (_viz_ £20) to the
Coachman, if he would bring him his Money; the Fellow, hearing of the
offer, went to the _Exchange_ and writ on the Paper, _Then shall I be
the Loser_, which was all the Gentleman had for his Coin.


[26.] One swore most plentifully, That he saw a Lobster kill a Hare
upon _Salisbury Plain_; then they all began to think indeed that was
a lie, till he very discreetly told them how it was; for the Lobsters
that are taken at _Weymouth_, _Southampton_, and upon the Sea-Coasts
thereabouts, are presently convey'd in Panniers into the Midland
Country, and by the way on _Salisbury Plain_ did drop a very good
Lobster, and a Hare a little after, came close to the Lobster: which
the Lobster feeling, with his Claw presently catcht him fast by the
foot, and so kill'd him; and swore also that they put it into a Pie,
and both bak't together (but I don't mean with the skin and the shell
on) then you'd think't a lie indeed; and so sent up to _London_, and
eaten there.


  Alas, _Delfridus_ keepes his bed, God knowes,    [102.]
  Which is a sign his worship's very ill:
  His griefe beyond the grounds of Phisike goes;
  No Doctor that comes neere it with his skill,
  Yet doth he eat, drink, talke, and sleepe profound,
  Seeming to all men's judgements healthful found.

  Then gesse the cause he thus to bed is drawne
  What? think you so? may such a hap procure it?
  Well; faith, 'tis true, his Hose is out at pawne,
  A breechlesse chance is come, he must indure it:
  His Hose to Brokers Jayle committed are,
  His Singular, and only Velvet paire.


[17.] A man on his death bed bequeathed all that he had to his three
Sons; to the first he gave all his Land, for he said he had been very
dutiful, but he said he hoped his Father would live to enjoy it all
himself: To the second, he gave all his money and goods, for he had
been dutiful also, and he wisht his father might live and enjoy it all
himself: And to the third, he said, Thou hast been a Villain, a Rogue,
and a Vagabond; I first give to thee the benefit of the Stocks, to
keep both thy legs warm; and next _Bridwell_, where thou shalt dine
upon freecost with M^r _Lashington_ every day; and then I bestow the
Gallows upon thee at last: Truly Father, says he, I thank you, and _I
hope you'll live to enjoy them_ all, yourself.


[94.] One asked the reason why Lawyers Clerks writ such wide lines:
Another answered, It was done to keep the peace; for if the Plaintiff
should be in one line, and the Defendant in the next, the lines being
too near together, they might perhaps fall together by the Ears.


[4.] M^r _Noy_[F. 200] the Attorney General, making a Venison Feast in
a Tavern where _Ben Johnson_ and some of his Companions were Drinking,
and he having a mind to some of the Venison, wrote these Verses, and
sent them to M^r _Noy_

      When all the World was drown'd,
      No Venison could be found;
  For then there was no Park:
      Lo here we sit,
      Without e're a bit,
  _Noy_ has it all in his Ark.

For the ingenuity of which, M^r _Noy_ sent him a good corner of a
Pasty, and half a Dozen Bottles of Sack to wash it down.

At another time, _Ben Johnson_ intending to go through the Half Moone
Tavern in _Aldersgate Street_, was denied entrance, the Door being
shut: upon which he made these Verses.

  Since the _Half-Moon_ is so unkind,
  to make me go about,
  The _Sun_ my Money now shall take,
  the _Moon_ shall go without.

And so he went to the _Sun Tavern_ at _Long Lane_ end, forsaking the
_Half-Moon_ for this affront.

    [Footnote 200: "Noy, when Whitelocke came to him about the
    Bill, advised with him about the King's Patent concerning
    an association between England and Scotland for fishing. Noy
    loved a little drollery, and gave Whitelocke eleven groats out
    of his little purse. Here, said Noy, take these single pence;
    and I give you more than an attorney's fee, because you will
    be a better man than an Attorney-General; and this you
    will find to be true. This was in 1629."--_Lives of Eminent
    Sergeants at Law, by H. W. Woolrych, Lond. 1869._]


[91.] When I lived, I fed the living, now I am dead, I bear the
living, and with swift speed walke over the living. _Resolution._ A
Ship made of an Oake, growing, fed Hogs with Acorns, now beares men,
swims over fishes.



The English Irish Souldier

_With his new Discipline, new Armes, old Stomacke, and new taken
pillage, who had rather Eate than Fight._


  If any Souldate    [106.]
    think I do appeare,
  In this strange Armes
    and posture, as a Jeere,
  Let him advance up to me
    he shall see,
  Ile stop his mouth
    and we wil both agree.

[Illustration]

  Our Skirmish ended
    our Enemies fled or slaine
  Pillage wee cry then,
    for the Souldiers game,
  And this compleat Artillery
    I have got,
  The best of Souldiers,
    I think, hateth not.

  My Martiall Armes
    dealt I amongst my foes
  With this I charged stand
    'gainst hungers blowes;
  This is Munition
    if a Souldier lacke,
  He fights like _Iohn a dreams_[F. 201]
    or Lent's thin _Jacke_.[F. 202]

  All safe and cleare,
    my true Arms rest awhile,
  And welcome pillage
    you have foes to soile.
  This Pot, my Helmet,
    must not be forsaken,
  For loe I seiz'd it
    full of Hens and Bacon.

  Rebels for Rebels drest it
    but our hot rost
  Made them to flye
    and now they kisse the post.
  And better that to kisse
    than stay for Pullets
  And have their bellies
    cram'd with leaden bullets.

  This fowle my Feather is,
    who wins most fame,
  To weare a pretty Duck
    he need not shame;
  This Spit my well chargd
    Musket with a Goose,
  Now cryes come eate me,
    let your stomacks loose.

  This Dripping Pan's my
    target, and this Hartichoke
  My Basket-hilted blade
    can make 'em smoake,
  And make them slash and cut
    who most Home puts,
  Ile most my fury
    sheath into his guts.

  This Forke my Rest is,
    and my Bandaleers
  Canary Bottles,
    that can quell base feares,
  And make us quaffe downe
    danger, if this not doe,
  What is it then? can raise
    a spiritt into fearfull men.

  This Match are linkes
    to light down to my belly
  Wherein are darksome chinks
    as I may tell yee,
  Or Sassages, or Puddings,
    choose you which,
  An excellent Needle,
    Hungers wounds to stitch.

  These my Supporters,
    garter'd with black pots,
  Can steele the nose
    & purg the brain of plots;
  These tosts my shooestrings,
    steept in this strong fog,
  Is able of themselves
    to foxe a Dog.

  These Armes being vanisht,
    once againe appeare
  A true and faithful Souldier
    _As you were_;
  But if this wants,
    and that we have no biting
  In our best Armours
    we make sorry fighting.

FINIS

Printed at _London_ for _R. Wood_ and _A. Coe_ 1642.

    [Footnote 201: _i.e._ a stupid, semi-idiot, as--

      "A Dull and Muddy Mettled rascal, peak,
      Like _John a dreams_, impregnant of my cause,
      And can say nothing."--_Hamlet_, Act ii. Scene 2.
    ]

    [Footnote 202: "A Jack a Lent" was a straw-stuffed image which
    was shot at, beaten, thrown at, and otherwise ill-treated
    during Lent. It was supposed to represent Judas Iscariot.]


[93.] There was a Gentleman that dwelt in the West Countrey, and had
staid here in London a Tearme longer than hee intended, by reason of
a Booke that _George_ (_Peele_) had to translate out of Greeke into
English: and when he wanted money, George had it of the Gentleman,
but the more he supplyed him of Coine, the further off he was from his
Booke, and could get no end of it, neither by faire meanes, entreatie,
or double payment: for _George_ was of the Poeticall disposition,
never to write so long as his money lasted; some quarter of the Booke
being done, and lying in his hands at randome.

The Gentleman had plotted a meanes to take such an order with _George_
next time he came, that he would have his Booke finished. It was not
long before he had his Company; his arrival was for more money; the
Gentleman bids him welcome; causeth him to stay dinner, where falling
into discourse about his Booke, found it was as neere ended, as he
left it two moneths ago. The Gentleman, meaning to be gul'd no longer,
caused two of his men to binde _George_ hand and foot in a Chayre: a
folly it was for him to aske what they meant by it: the Gentleman sent
for a Barber, and George had a beard of an indifferent size, and well
growne: he made the Barber shave him beard and head, left him as bare
of haire, as he was of money: the Barber he was well contented for his
paines, who left _George_ like an old woman in mans apparell: and his
voyce became it well, for it was more woman than man. _George_ quoth
the Gentleman, I have always used you like a friend, my purse hath
beene open to you: that you have of mine to translate, you know it is
a thing I highly esteeme: therefore I have used you in this fashion,
that I might have an end of my Booke, which shall be as much for your
profit as my pleasure. So forthwith he commanded his men to unbinde
him, and putting his hand into his pocket, gave him two brace of
Angels; quoth hee, Master _Peele_, drinke this, and by that time you
have finished my booke, your beard will be growne, untill which time,
I know you will be ashamed to walke abroad. _George_ patiently tooke
the gold, said little, and when it was darke night, took his leave of
the Gentleman, and went directly home: who, when his wife saw, I
omit the wonder shee made, but imagine those that shall behold their
husbands in such a case. To bed went _George_, and ere morning hee
had plotted sufficiently how to cry _quid pro quo_ with his politick
Gentleman.

George had a Daughter of the age of tenne yeeres, a Girle of a pretty
forme, but of an excellent wit: and she had _George_ so tutored all
night, that although himselfe was the Author of it, yet had hee beene
transformed into his Daughters shape, he could not have done it with
more conceit. _George_ at that time dwelt at the Banke Side from
whence this she-sinnow,[F. 203] early in the morning, with her haire
dichevalled, wringing her hands, and making such pittifull moane with
shrikes and teares, and beating of her brest, that made the people in
a maze: some stood wondring at the Childe; others plucked her to know
the occasion; but none could stay her by any meanes, but on shee kept
her journey, crying, O, her Father, her good Father, her deare Father,
over the Bridge, thorow Cheapside, and so to the Old Bailey, where the
Gentleman sojourned, there sitting her selfe downe, a hundred people
gaping upon her, there she begins to cry out, Woe to that place, that
her Father ever saw it: she was a Cast-away, her Mother was undone:
till with the noise, one of the Gentlemans men comming downe, looked
on her, and knew her to be _George Peeles_ Daughter: hee presently
runnes up, and tels his Master, who commanded his man to bring her up.
The Gentleman was in a cold sweat, fearing that George had, for the
wrong that he did him the day before, some way undone himselfe. When
the Girle came up, he demanded the cause why she so lamented, and
called upon her Father? _George_ his flesh and blood, after a million
of sighs, cried out upon him, he had made her Father, her good Father,
drowne himselfe. Which words once uttered, she fell into a Counterfeit
swoone, whom the Gentleman soon recovered. This newes went to his
heart, and he, being a man of a very milde condition, cheered up the
Girle, made his men to go buy her new cloathes from top to toe, said
he would be a Father to her, gave her five pounds, bid her go home
and carry it to her mother, and in the evening he would visit her. At
this, by little and little she began to be quiet: desiring him to come
and see her Mother. He tels her, he will not faile, bids her goe home
quietly. So downe stayres goes she peartly,[F. 204] and the wondring
people that staid at doore, to heare the manner of her griefe, had
of her nought but knavish answers, and home went she directly. The
Gentleman was so crossed in mind, and disturbed in thought at this
unhappy accident, that his soule could not be in quiet, till he had
beene with this wofull widdow, as hee thought, and presently went to
Blacke Fryers, tooke a payre of Oares, and went directly to _George
Peeles_ house, where hee found his wife plucking of Larkes, my crying
Crocadile turning of the Spit, and _George_ pinn'd up in a blanket, at
his translation. The Gentleman, more glad at the unlookt for life of
_George_, than the losse of his money, tooke part in the good cheere
_George_ had to dinner, wondred at the cunning of the Wench, and
within some few daies after had an end of his Booke.

    [Footnote 203: A woman very finely dressed. "Whereas she wont
    in her feathered youthfulnesse to looke with amiable eye on
    her gray breast, and her speckled side sayles, all _sinnowed_
    with silver guilles."--_Pierce Penilesse his Supplication to
    the Divell, by Thos. Nash._ 1592.]

    [Footnote 204: Briskly, lively.]


[77.] There was a great huge man 3 yards in the Waste, at _S.
Edmondsbury_ in _Suffolk_, that died but of late daies, (one _M.
Blague_ by name) & a good kinde Justice too, carefull for the poore;
this Justice met with _Tarlton_ in Norwich: _Tarlton_, said he, give
me thy hand; But you, Sir, being richer, may give me a greater gift,
give me your body! and imbracing him could not halfe compasse him:
being merry in talke, said the Justice; _Tarlton_ tell me one thing,
what is the difference betwixt a Flea and a Louse? Marry, Sir, said
_Tarlton_, as much and like difference, as twixt you and me; I like
a Flea (see else) can skip nimbly: But you, like a fat Louse creepe
slowly, and you can go no faster, were a Butcher's axe over you, ready
to knock you on the head. Thou art a knave, quoth the Justice. I, Sir,
I knew that ere I came hither, else had I not been here now, for
ever one knave (making a stop) seekes out another: the Justice
understanding him, laughed heartily.


[17.] A Gentleman had a desire to hire two resolute Ruffians to do
some exploit upon one that had abused him: A little after his man
brings him two whose faces were slasht and cut: No, says he, I'll have
none of you, but if you can bring me those men that gave you those
wounds, they are for my turn.


[4.] A Sea Captain was invited to a Hunting Match, who when he came
home related what sport he had after this manner: Our Horses, says
he, being well Rigg'd, we man'd them; and the Wind being at West South
West, (Fifteen of us in Company) away we stood over the Downs; in the
time of half a Watch, we spied a Hare under full Sail, we Tackt, and
stood after her, coming up close, she Tacks, and we Tackt, upon which
Tack I had like to run aground; but getting clear off, I stood after
her again; but as the Devil would have it, just as I was going to lay
her aboard, bearing too much Wind, I and my Horse overset and came
Heel[F. 205] upwards.

    [Footnote 205: ? Keel.]



A _Leicester-shire_ Frolick;

_Or_, The Valiant Cook-Maid.


Being a merry composed Jest of Five Taylors that had been at work till
their Wages came to 5 pounds, likewise a merry conceited Cook-maid
that lived in the house, went to her Master, and desired him to lend
her a horse, and she would venture her skill to take the 5 pounds from
these five Taylors, without either Sword or Pistol, in a jesting
way, to make her Master some sport and to show her valour: her Master
loving mirth more than sadness, agreed to it; so a Horse was sadled,
and other things to disguise herself, because she might not be known:
away she went (it being in the Evening) and met them before they got
home, with nothing in her hand but a black pudding, the faint hearted
Taylors delivered her their Money very quietly, for fear they should
a been shot through with a Black Pudding, and what followed after is
expressed in the following Ditty.


Tune is Ragged & Torn.

With Allowance.


[Illustration][F. 206]

  I'le tell you a pretty fine jest,    [107.]
    if that you do please it to hear,
  For the truth on't I do protest,
    I'm sure that you need not to fear:
  It is of a valiant Cook-maid,
    that lived at a Nobleman's place
  And five Taylors that once was afraid
    when as they lookt her in the face.
  _O this was a valiant Cook-maid,
    without either Pistol or Gun,
  But with a Black Pudding did fright,
    five Taylors and put them to th' run._

  This Noble-man upon a time,
    had great store of work for to do,
  But to bring every thing into rhyme,
    'twill study my brains you must know;
  Five Taylors that lived hard by,
    that worked for fourpence a day,
  For Beef and for Pudding at night,
    they'd better do so than to play.
                _O this &c._

  These Taylors a great while did work,
    two Masters, and their three men,
  They laboured as hard as a Turk,
    with Stitching both too and agen;
  And when that their work it was done,
    their money unto them was told,
  Full five good pounds it is known,
    Of Silver, but not of red Gold.
                _O this &c_

  And when as their money they'd got,
    then who was so jocond as they,
  Each Man of the best drank his pot,
    and homewards they straight took their way;
  A Cook-Maid there was in the house,
    that us'd full merry to be,
  Who went to her Master in haste,
    and these words unto him did say.
                _O this &c._

  Master, if that you please,
    some pastime I for you will make
  But to lend me a horse then (quoth she)
    and this money I from them will take;
  Her Master, then hearing the jest,
    would try what this Cook-maid could do,
  Some mirth he did think it the best,
    as Gentlemen will do, you know.
                _O this &c._

  A horse then was sadled with speed,
    and boots and Spurs she put on,
  And other materials most fit,
    because she would not be known;
  A horse-back she straight got astride,
    with a Hogs-Pudding in her hand,
  And meeting these Taylors in haste,
    she presently bid them to stand.
                _O this &c_

  Deliver your Money (quoth she)
    or else your manhoods now try,
  Or by this same thing in my hand,
    every man of you shall dye;
  Then out her Black-Pudding she pull'd,
    which sore did the Taylors affright,
  They thought it had been a Pistol well charg'd,
    because 'twas late in the night.
                _O this &c._

  They beg'd their lives she might save,
    we are but poor Taylors (quoth they)
  And truly no money we have,
    for we work but for four pence a day;
  You lye, like all Rogues (quoth she)
    and do not my patience provoke,
  For 5 pounds you have tane for your work,
    so presant that word did them choak.
                _O this &c._.

  That money deliver with speed,
    if that you think well on your lives,
  Or by this same thing you shall bleed,
    the which will go farther than knives;
  Then out of their pockets their money they took,
    with many a sorrowful tear,
  And gave it into her hand,
    here's all on't each Taylor did swear.
               _O this &c._--

  And when she their money had got,
    she set Spurs and away she did run,
  The Devil go with you (quoth they)
    for i'me sure that we are undone;
  But when that this Cook-maid came home,
    strait unto her Master she told,
  And show'd him his money again,
    how passages went she did unfold.
                _O this &c._

[Illustration: The poor Taylor making his complaint to the Esquire]

  But here comes the cream of the jest,
    those Taylors which was such Men,
  After they'd stood pausing awhile,
    then back they returned again;
  They came with a pittiful tone,
    their hair stood like men bewitcht,
  To th' Gentleman they made their moan,
    for their mony their fingers it itcht.
                _O this &c._

  The Gentleman laugh'd in conceit,
    how many was there said he,
  Sure you were all men sufficient
    to a beaten above two or three;
  Truly we saw but one man,
    the which took our Money away,
  But we feared he had partakers in store,
    or else he should never a carried the day.
                _O this &c._

  He was well mounted upon a good steed,
    and a Pistol that put us to studying,
  You lye like all fools (quoth she)
    it was but a black Hogs-Pudding;
  Thus they the poor Taylors did jeer,
    and the Cook-maid laugh'd in conceit,
  That with nothing but a black Pudding,
    and that five Taylors did beat.
                _O this &c._.

  Then straightway the Gentleman spoke,
    what will you give then (said he)
  To have all your money again,
    and the face on't once more to see:
  Quoth the Taylors we'l give the ton half,
    and that's very fair you do know,
  Altho' that we were such fools,
    to part with our good silver so.
                _O this &c._

  Then straitways he call'd for the Cook,
    then the Taylors did laugh in their sleeve,
  And set her to conjuring strait,
    which made the poor Taylors believe;
  That she by her art had it found,
    and show'd them the place where it lay,
  Which made the poor Taylors to smile,
    so merry and jocand was they.
                _O this &c._

  Here take half the money said they,
    the which we did promise to you,
  And for you we ever will pray,
    for such Cook-Maids there is but a few;
  I'le have none of your money she said,
    as sure as i'me here alive,
  One may know what Cowards you are,
    to let a Hogs-Pudding to fright you all 5.
                _O this &c._

  And thus the old Proverb is true,
    nine Taylors do make but one man,
  And now it doth plainly appear,
    let them all do what they can;
  For had they been stout hearted Lads,
    they need not called for aid,
  Nor afraid to tast of a Pudding,
    nor yet be'n out-brav'd by a Maid.
                _O this &c._

FINIS.

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball, at Pye-Corner, near West
Smithfield.

    [Footnote 206: This engraving is from another version, (C. 22
    f. 2)/101]


_How_ Jacke _by playing of the Whiting got his dinner._

[105.] When the sicknesse was at Oxford, on a time _Scogin_ went out
of Oxford, and did lye at S. Bartholemewes by Oxford, and hee had
a poore scholler to dresse his meat: On a Friday he said to his
scholler, _Jacke_, here is twopence, goe to the market and buy me
three whitings, the which his scholler did; & when hee was come home,
_Scogin_ said, _Jacke_, goe seeth me a whiting to my dinner: _Jacke_
heard him say so, and deferred the time, thinking hee should fare ill
when that his master had but a whiting to dinner. At last _Scogin_
said, doth the fish play? _Jacke_ said, would you have one play
without a fellow? _Scogin_ said, _Jacke_ thou saist truth, put another
whiting into the pan. Then _Jacke_ prepared his fish to seeth them:
then _Scogin_ said, _Jacke_ doth the fish play now? _Jacke_ said, I
trow they be mad or else wood,[F. 207] for one doth fight with the
other, that I have much adoe to keepe them in the pan. Then said
_Scogin_, put the other whiting betwixt them to break the strife.
_Jacke_ was then glad, thinking he should get somewhat to dinner, and
sod[F. 208] the fish and had his part.

    [Footnote 207: Or _wode_, mad or furious.]

    [Footnote 208: Or _sodden_, boiled.]


[26.] One swore pretty largely too, That he knew a Hare, that after he
was taken and garbaged,[F. 209] did give the Dogs a chase for five or
six miles together; then they cry'd out all 'twas a loud lie. No, says
he, it can't be a loud lie, for it seems you don't allow it. Yes, says
they, we do allow it for a lie. But, says he, I do avow it for truth,
and thus it was, for the Hare being tied to a Huntsman's Saddle in a
string, it happened that the string slips, and the Hare in the string
hung down between the Horses Legs upon the Ground, and the Horse being
mettlesome, gallopt away with the Hare at his heels, and the Dogs
marcht after; but the truth was, the Man could not hold the Horse in:
Nay then, say they, this may be impossibly possible.

Another very sober Man told a story; That once he went a coursing
alone with a Grey hound Bitch, that was great with Whelp; and, having
started a Hare, it hapned the Hare went through a Muse[F. 210] in a
Hedg where a Carpenter had hid his Axe, lying it seems with the edge
upwards: and so the Hare being with young, in going through that Muse,
cut her belly with the edge of the Axe; and then out started 8 young
Hares, and began to run immediately; but the Grey hound Bitch suddenly
following the Hare through the very same Muse, by Chance Cut her belly
also, and out came Eight Whelps; which eight Whelps ran after the
eight young Hares, and the Bitch after the Old Hare and Kill'd em all.
Now, says he to them, Some nice people may take this for a lie, but
I think 'tis as probable as any of the rest, because the wonder is
greater: that there should be but just the number of Eight Whelps, and
Eight young Hares, and if true _Probatum est_.

    [Footnote 209: Disembowelled.]

    [Footnote 210: Or _muset_, a hole in a hedge through which
    game passes. _Ed. Topsell_ in his "_Histore of_ foure footed
    beasts," Lond. 1607, says, "But the good and aproved hounds,
    on the contrary, when they have found the hare, make shew
    thereof to the hunter, by running more speedily, and with
    gesture of head, eyes, ears, and taile winding to the hares
    _muse_," etc.]


[82.] Seigneur _Valdrino_ (paymaster to the Campe of _Alphonsus_ King
of _Aragon_) a man exquisite in Courtship and complement; as two or
three were at strife laying Wagers what Countryman he was; a blunt
bold Captaine asked what was the matter: why Captaine, said one, we
are laying a wager what Countriman my Lord Treasurer _Valdrino_ is:
Oh, said the Captaine, I can tell you that, I am sure he was borne in
the land of _Promise_, for I have served the King in his wars, these
seven yeers without pay, and ever when I petition to my Lord, he payes
me with no coyne but promises, which makes me half assured that hee is
that Countryman.


_Epitaph on a Scholler._

  Forbeare, friend, t' unclaspe this booke      [5.]
  Onely in the fore front looke,
  For in it have errours bin,
  Which made th' authour call it in:
      Yet know this 't shall have more worth,
      At the second comming forth.


[17.] A Gardener being to be hang'd, his Wife came to give him his
last kiss at the Gallows: Out, you Baggage, says he, we are like to
thrive well at the years end; there can't be a meeting in all the
Country but you'll be sure to make one--Go home and weed, home and
weed.


  There is a body without a heart,      [91.]
  That hath a tongue, and yet no head,
  Buried it was, e're it was made;
  And loude doth speake, and yet is dead.

_Resolution._ A Bell, which when it is cast, is founded in the ground.


[4.] Two young Oxford Scholars agreeing together to go into an
Adjacent Warren to steal some Rabbets; one being to watch, and not to
speak one word, and the other to Catch them. So they being come to the
place, he that watch'd, cried out, _Ecce Cuniculi multi_; which noise
frighted all the Rabbets into their Burrows, whereupon the other was
very angry with him; _Why_, says he, _who thought the Rabbets had
understood Latin?_


[94.] A Gentleman that bore a spleen to another, meets him in the
street, and gives him a Box on the Ear: The other, not willing to
strike again, puts it off with a jest, asking him whether it was in
jest or earnest? The other answers, It was in earnest: I am glad of
that, said he, for if it had been in jest, I should have been very
angry, for I do not like such jesting, and so pass'd away from him.


[103.] A Gentleman making Addresses of Love to a young Lady, often
swore by his Soul that he would be very faithful to her, in keeping
all the promises he had made; but however failing in some small
Matters, she was afraid to venture on to a Marriage, lest he should
deceive her in greater, which he perceiving, said they would pawn her
Soul upon it. Ay, Sir, replyed the Lady, you must find out a better
Pattern, for that has been dipt so often, theres nothing more to be
lent upon.


[17.] A Gentleman stammering much in his speech, laid down a winning
Card; and then said to his partner, Ho, sa, ay you now, was not this
Ca-ca-card pa-a-ssing we-we-well la-a-aid? Yes, says t'other, 'twas
well laid, but it needs not half that Cackling.



My Wife will be my Master:

_or_, The Married-mans Complaint against his unruly Wife.


The Tune is, _A Taylor is a Man_.


[Illustration]

  As I was walking forth of late,    [108.]
    I heard a man complaining,
  With that I drew me near to him,
    to know the cause and meaning
  Of this his sorrow, pain and grief,
    which bred him such disaster;
  Alas, quoth he, what shall I do,
    my wife will be my master.
  _But if ever I am a Widdower,
    and another wife do marry,
  I mean to keep her poor and bare,
    and the purse I mean to carry._

  If I should give her forty pound,
    within her apron folding,
  No longer then she's telling on't,
    her tongue would ne'r leave scolding,
  As _Esops_ Dog barkt at the Moon
    thinking for to distast her,
  So doth my wife scold without cause
    and strives to be my master.
            _But if ever &c._

  Were I so strong as _Hercules_,
    or wiser than _Apollo_,
  Or had I _Icarus_ wings to flye,
    my wife would after follow:
  Or should I live as many years
    as ever did King _Nestor_,
  Yet do I greatly stand in fear
    my wife would be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  I know no cause nor reason why,
    that she with me should jangle,
  I never gave her cause at all
    to make her with me wrangle;
  I please her still in what I may,
    and do no jot distast her,
  Yet she doth strive both night and day
    always to be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  I every morning make a fire,
    all which is done to ease her
  I get a Nutmeg, make a toast,
    in hope therewith to please her:
  Of a Cup of nappy ale and spice,
    of which she is first taster,
  And yet this cros-grain'd quean will scold
    and strive to be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  I wash the dishes, sweep the house,
    I dress her wholsome dyet,
  I humour her in every thing,
    because I would be quiet:
  Of every several dish of meat,
    she'l surely be first taster,
  And I am glad to pick the bones,
    She is so much my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  Sometimes she'l sit while day gives light,
    in company with good fellows,
  In Taverns and in bowsing Kens,
    or in some pimping Ale house:
  And when she comes home drunk at night,
    though I do not distast her,
  She'l fling, she'l throw, she'l scratch and bite,
    and strive to be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  Her bed I make both soft and fine,
    and put on smock compleatly,
  Her shooes and stockings I pull off,
    and lay her down most neatly:
  I cover her, and keep her warm
    for fear I should distast her,
  I hug her kindly in my arms,
    Yet still She'l be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  And when I am with her in bed
    she doth not use me well sir,
  She'l wring my nose, and pull my ears,
    a pittiful case to tell sir;
  And when I am with her in bed,
    not meaning to molest her,
  She'l kick me out at the bed's feet,
    and so become my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  And thus you hear how cruelly
    my wife doth still abuse me,
  At bed, at board, at noon and night
    she always did misuse me:
  But if I were a lusty Man
    and able for to baste her,
  Then would I surely use some means,
    that she should not be my Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  You Batchelors that sweet-hearts have,
    when as you are a Wooing,
  Be sure you look before you leap,
    for fear of your undoing:
  The after wit is not the best,
    and he that weds in hast sir,
  May like to me, bewail his case,
    if his wife do prove his Master.
            _But if ever &c._

  You Married Men that have good wives,
    I wish you deal well by them,
  For they more precious are than Gold,
    if once you come to try them:
  A good wife makes a husband glad,
    then let him not distast her,
  But a Scold will make a man run mad,
    if once she proves his Master.
            _But if ever &c._

Printed for _F. Coles_, _T. Vere_,[F. 211] _J. Wright_, _J. Clarke_,
_W. Thackeray_, and T. Passinger.

    [Footnote 211: Published from 1648 to 1680.]


[93.] There was some halfe dozen of Citizens, that had oftentimes
beene solliciters to _George_ (_Peele_), he being a Master of Art
at the Universitie of Oxford, that hee would ride with them to the
Commencement, it being at Midsomer. _George_, willing to pleasure the
Gentlemen his friends, rode along with them. When they had rode the
better part of the way, they baited at a village called Stoken, five
miles from Wickham; good cheere was bespoken for dinner, and frolicke
was the company, all but _George_, who could not be in that pleasant
vaine that did ordinarilie possess him, by reason he was without mony:
but he had not fetcht fortie turnes about the Chamber, before his
noddle had entertained a conceit how to money himself with credit, and
yet glean it from some one of the Company. There was among them one
excellent Asse, a fellow that did nothing but friske up and down the
Chamber, that his money might bee heard chide in his pocket: this
fellow had _George_ observed, and secretly convay'd his gilt Rapier
and Dagger into another Chamber, and there closely hid it: that done,
he called up the Tapster, and upon his cloake borrowes 5 shillings
for an houre or so, till his man came, (as he could fashion it well
enough:) so much money he had, and then who more merry than _George!_
Meate was brought up, they set themselves to dinner, all full of
mirth, especially my little foole, who dranke not of the conclusion
of their feast: dinner ended, much prattle past, every man begins to
buckle to his furniture: among whom this Hichcock missed his Rapier:
at which all the Company were in a maze; he, besides his wits, for he
had borrowed it of a speciall friend of his, and swore he had rather
spend twenty Nobles. This is strange, quoth _George_, it should
be gone in this fashion, none beeing heere but our selves, and the
fellowes of the house, who were examined, but no Rapier could be heard
of: but _George_ in a pittifull chafe, swore it should cost him fortie
shillings, but hee would know what was become of it, if Art could
do it; and with that he caused the Oastler to saddle his Nag, for
_George_ would ride to a Scholler, a friend of his, that had skill
in such matters. O, good M. _Peele_, quoth the fellow, want no money,
heere is forty shillings, see what you can doe, and, if you please,
I'le ride along with you. Not so, quoth _George_, taking his fortie
shillings, I'le ride alone, and be you as merry as you can till my
returne. So _George_ left them, and rode directly to Oxford; there he
acquaints a friend of his with all the circumstances, who presently
tooke Horse, and rode along with him to laugh at the Jest. When they
came backe, _George_ tels them he has brought one of the rarest men
in England: whom they with much complement bid welcome. He, after a
distracted countenance, and strange words, takes this Bulfinch by the
wrist, and carried him into the privy, and there willed him to put in
his head, but while he had written his name and told forty: which he
willingly did: that done, the Scholler asked him what he saw? By my
faith, sir, I smelt a villainous sent, but I saw nothing. Then I have,
quoth he, and with that directed him where his Rapier was: saying, it
is just North East, inclosed in Wood, neere the earth: for which they
all made diligent search, till _George_ who had hid it under a settle,
found it, to the comfort of the fellow, the joy of the Company, and
the eternall credit of his friend, who was entertained with Wine
and Sugar; and _George_ redeemed his Cloake, rode merrily to Oxford,
having Coine in his pocket, where this Loach spares not for any
expence, for the good fortune he had in the happy finding of his
Rapier.


[94.] One said the Midwifes Trade, of all Trades, was most
commendable, because they lived not by the hurts of other men as
Surgeons do; nor by the falling out of friends, as Lawyers do; but by
the agreement betwixt party and party.


[105.] On a time Scogin did send Jacke to Oxford to market, to buy a
penny worth of fresh herring. Scogin said, bring foure herrings for a
penny, or else bring none. Jack could not get foure herrings but three
for his penny; and when he came home, Scogin said, how many herrings
hast thou brought? and Jacke said, three herrings, for I could not get
foure for a penny. Scogin said he would none of them: Sir, said Jacke,
then will I, and here is your penny againe. When dinner time was come
then Jack did set bread and butter before his Master, and rosted his
herrings, and sate downe at the lower end of the table and did eate
the herrings. Scogin said, let mee have one of thy herrings, and thou
shalt have another of mee another time. Jacke said, if you will have
one herring, it shall cost you a penny. What, said Scogin, thou will
not take it on thy Conscience: Jacke said, my conscience is such,
that you get not a morsell here, except I have my penny again. Thus
contending together, Jacke had made an end of his herrings: A Master
of Arts of Oxford, one of Scogins fellowes, did come to see Scogin,
and when Scogin had espied him, hee said to Jacke, set up the bones of
the herrings before me: sir, said Jacke, they shall cost you a penny.
Then said Scogin, what, wilt thou shame me? No, sir, said Jacke, give
me my penny again, and you shal have up the bones, or else I will tell
all. Scogin then cast down a penny to Jacke, and Jacke brought up to
Scogin the herring bones: and by this time the Master of Arts did
come in to Scogin, and Scogin bad him welcome, saying, if you had come
sooner you should have had fresh herrings to dinner.


[26.] A confident bold Fellow at a _Nisi prius_ in the Country, having
a Trial then in Law, and fearing that the Trial would go against him,
said to the Judge, My Lord, I do not desire your Sentence now, but
only your Opinion at the present; and I will wait upon your Lordship
for Judgment at some other time. Well, says the Judge, if you'd only
have my Opinion now, why then my Opinion is, That if you had had
Judgment to be hang'd seven years ago, the Country would have been
more quiet than it is now. Well, my Lord, says he, if this be your
Opinion, then your Judgement and mine doth not suit at all, so that
I'le have nothing to do with you, but go to another Judge.



Poor _Robin's_ Prophesie,

_or_

The merry Conceited Fortune-Teller.


  Although the Poet makes no large Apology,
  Some insight he may have into Ass-trology,
  Then buy this Song, and give your Judgment of it,
  And then perhaps you'l say he's a Small Prophet
  For he can tell when things will come to pass,
  That you will say is strange as ever was.


Tune of, _The Delights of the Bottle_ &c.[F. 212] With Allowance. Ro.
L'Estrange.[F. 213]


  All you that delight to hear a new song,    [109.]
  Or to see the world turn'd topsie turvy e're long,
  Come give good attention unto these my Rhimes,
  And never complain of the hardness of times,
  For all will be mended, by this you may find,
  _And Golden days come, when the Devil is blind_.

  And first for the Shopkeeper, this I can tell,
  That after long trusting, all things will be well,
  The Gallant will pay him, what ever's his due
  And make him rejoyce when he finds it is true:
  False weights, & false measures, he then will not mind,
  _But honest will prove, when the Devil is blind_.

  The Country Client that comes up to Term,
  Likewise from this subject, good news he may learn,
  A benefit which he shall never more leese
  For Lawyers hereafter will plead without Fees:
  You shall have Law freely, if you be inclin'd,
  _Without any charge, when the Devil is blind_.

  The Usurer open his Coffers will throw,
  And break all his Locks both above and below,
  He'l burn all his Parchments, and cancel his Bands,
  And freely return all his Morgaged Lands;
  Young heirs will be glad for to see them so kind,
  _But that will not be till the Devil is blind_.

[Illustration]

  The Learned Phisitian who valued his wealth,
  Will now be more chary of all peoples health,
  And make it his business howe're he doth thrive,
  To pussle his brains for to keep men alive:
  Nor Mountebank Bills in the Streets you shall find,
  _For they'l keep in their lies, when the Devil is Blind_.

  Your Lady of pleasure that us'd for to rant,
  And Coach it about with her lusty Gallant,
  Will then become modest, and find a new way
  To live like a Nun in a Cloyster all day:
  Her Pride, and her painting she never will mind,
  _But seem like a Saint when the Devil is blind_.

  Yea the Bullies themselves that did use for to rore,
  And spent great estates in good wine and a w----
  Shall leave off their gameing, and fairly take up,
  And scarcely will tast of the Grape half a Cup,
  But leave good Canary, and Claret behind,
  _Small Tipple to Drink, when the Devil is blind_.

  The Hecks[F. 214] and the Padders[F. 215] who used to prey,
  And venture abroad for no purchase, no pay,
  Shall work for their livings, and find a new trade,
  And never more travel like Knights of the Blade;
  Let Newgate stand empty, and then you will find
  _All this will prove true, when the Devil is blind_.

  All Trades men will strive for to help one another,
  And friendly will be, like to Brother and Brother,
  And keep up their prices that money may flow,
  Their charge to maintain and to pay what they owe:
  Then two of a trade shall agree, if you mind,
  _And all will be well when the Devil is blind_.

  The Tapsters no more shall their Ticklers froth,
  No Coffee men blind us with their Ninny broth,
  Full measures of liquor shall pass through the Land,
  And men without money the same shall command;
  You'l say 'tis a wonder when this you do find,
  _And that you will sure when the Devil is blind_.

  Not onely the City shall find this welfare,
  But throughout the Country the same they shall share,
  No cheating and couzening tricks shall be us'd,
  For by such deceit we have all been abus'd;
  Those men who of late with _Duke Humphrey_ have din'd
  _With plenty shall flow, when the Devil is blind_.

  Then let us be merry and frolick amain,
  Since the golden world is returning again,
  We shall be all Gallants, as sure as a Gun,
  When this work is finisht that's hardly begun;
  Then Poets in both pockets Guinneys[F. 216] shall find,
  _And purchase estates when the Devil is blind_.

FINIS.

Printed for _F. Coles_, _T. Vere_, _J. Wright_ and _J. Clarke_.

    [Footnote 212: For tune, see Appendix, same as _The Leather
    Bottel_.]

    [Footnote 213: Licensed from 1663 to 1685.]

    [Footnote 214: Probably a contraction for _hector_ or bully.]

    [Footnote 215: Footpad.]

    [Footnote 216: Guineas were made from the gold from the West
    Coast of Africa, and were first coined in 1663, the African
    company having by charter the right of stamping an elephant on
    the coin.]


[110.] Evermore when Maister _Hobson_[F. 217] had any busines abroad,
his prentices wold ether bee at the taverne, filling there heads with
wine, or at the dagger in cheapeside, cramming their bellies with
minced pyes, but above al other times, it was their common custome
(as London prentises use) to follow their maisters upon Sundays to the
Church dore, and then to leave them and hie unto the taverne, which
Maister _Hobson_ on a time perceving one of his men to doe, demanded
at his comming home what the Preachers text was: Sir (quoth the
fellow) I was not at the beginning; what was in the middle (quoth
Maister _Hobson_) Sir, (qd the fellow) then was I asleepe: said
Maister _Hobson_ againe, what then was the conclusion? then Replyed
his servant, I was come, Sir, away before the end; by which meanes
he knew well he was not there, but rather in some tippling house
offending Gods majesty, and the lawes of the land. Therefore the
next Sunday morning after, Maister _Hobson_ called all his servants
together, and in the sight of many of his neighbors and their
prentises, tooke a peece of chaulke, & chaulkd them all the way
along to the Church derectly, which proved a great shame to his owne
servants, but a good example to all others of like condition; after
this was never the like mesdemenour used amongst them.

    [Footnote 217: He must not be confounded with the Cambridge
    carrier, whose famous dictum has passed into a proverb,
    "Hobson's choice, that or none," that is, his inflexible rule
    was for his customer to take the horse he apportioned to him
    or go without. Our Hobson may be best described in the words
    of his editor:--"In the beginning of Queene _Elizabeths_
    most happy raigne, our late deceased Soveraigne, under whose
    peaceful government long flourished this our Country of
    _England_; There lived in the Citty of London, a merry Citizen
    named old _Hobson_, a haberdasher of small wares, dwelling at
    the lower end of _cheapside_, in the _Poultry_: as well
    known through this part of _England_, as a Sergeant knows
    the Counter-gate, he was a homely plaine man, most commonly
    wearing a button'd cap close to his eares, a short gowne girt
    hard about his middle, and a paire of slippers upon his feete
    of an ancient fashion; as for his wealth it was answerable
    to the better sort of our Cittizens, but of so mery a
    disposition, that his equal therein is hardly to be found;
    hereat let the pleasant disposed people laugh, and the more
    graver in Carriage take no exceptions, for here are merriments
    without hurt, and humorous jests savoring upon wisdome; read
    willingly, but scoffe not spitefully, for old _Hobson_ spent
    his dayes merrily."]


[17.] One affirmed that he had seen a Cabbage so big, that Five
hundred men on hors back might stand under its shade; and I for my
part, says another, have seen a Caldron so wide, That Three hundred
men wrought therein, each distant from the other twenty yards: Then
the Cabbage-lyer ask'd him, For what use was that Caldron? Says he, To
boil your Cabbage in.


[67.] A man excused y^e beating of his wife, because she was his
owne flesh, saying, may I not beat mine owne flesh? and she upon that
excused y^e scratching of him, saying, May I not scratch mine own
head?


  An honest Vicker, and a kind consort,    [102.]
  That to the Alehouse friendly would resort,
  To have a game at Tables now and than,
  Or drinke his pot, as soone as any man:
  As faire a gamster, and as free from brawl,
  As ever man should need to play withall:
  Because his Hostesse pledg'd him not carouse,
  Rashly in choller did forsweare her house.
  Taking the glasse, this was the oath he swore,
  Now by this drinke, I'le nere come hither more.
  But mightily his Hostesse did repent,
  For al her guests to the next Ale house went,
  Following their Vickars steps in everie thing:
  He led the Parish even by a string.
  At length his ancient Hostesse did complaine
  She was undone unlesse he came againe.
  Desiring certain friends of hers and his,
  To use a pollicie, which should be this:
  Because with cunning he should not forsweare him,
  To save his oath, they on their backs might bear him.
  Of this good course the Vicker well did thinke,
  And so they alwayes carried him to drinke.


[4.] The Lord _Bacon_ going the Northern Circuit, a Fellow that
was try'd for Robbing, was very importunate with the Judge to be
favourable to him, telling him he was a kin to his Lordship: Why,
how so? said the Judge. Why answered the Fellow, An't please your
Lordship, your Name is _Bacon_, and my name is _Hog_, and those two
are alike. 'Tis true, said the Judge; but you and I can't be kindred
till you are Hang'd, for _Hog_ is never good _Bacon_ till 'tis Hang'd.


[26.] Another Story was, That he being in a Low room, with some
Gentlemen a drinking a bottle of Ale; he saw the Man of the House open
a Bottle, and the Cork flew up with such a Violence, that it strook
his Hat off his Head, and after that went through the Cieling of that
Room and another Room above that, which was two pair of Stairs high,
and kill'd a Man and his Wife as they lay in Bed, and from thence flew
up into the Garret, and they could not get it out with a Hammer and
Mallet.

Sir, says another, to make good your Story, which I saw with my own
Eyes, that being with some others in an upper Room, one was then
opening a Bottle of Ale, and the Cork then flew up with such a
violence thorow the Top of the House, that it broke the Cieling and
Tiles also, and kill'd a Kite as he was flying just then over the
House; and the hole was so big which the Cork had made, that down fell
the Kite thorow the hole, and they, opening the Kite to see where she
was wounded, found two great Chickens in her Belly, which they sold
to pay for their Drink, and after that, would never drink in any other
Room in that House: but I don't know that it ever hapned so agen; for
these things, though there be truth in 'em, don't happen every day so.


[103.] A Woman very much addicted to Tipling, and having a Cup of a
large size, out of which she usually drank, and in which she never
left a drop, her Husband chid her for it, and said, It was not decent
for a Woman to drink so great a quantity: She told him, that the
Virgin _Mary_ being at the bottom of the Cup, she could not but admire
her beautiful Face: upon which he broke that Cup, and bought her
another something less, with the Devil painted at the bottom of it;
however, She always swallowed up all the Liquor in it; and being
repremanded again by her Husband for her excessive Drinking: Oh, says
she, I do it because the foul Fiend should not have one drop of it.



=No Money, no Friend.=


  The Spendthrift he, when 'tis too late,
  Laments his sad and Wretched state:
  And all good Men he doth advise,
  That they would Merry be and wise.


  The Tune is { _All you that do desire to play_
              { _At Cards, to pass the time away_.

  All you that freely spend your Coyn,    [111.]
  Come learn by this advice of mine;
  That you no more so play the Fool,
  Nor Tipple in the Fuddling-School:
  For when that you have spent your store,
  Your Host will turn you out o' th door.

  This by experience I do know,
  Who too too lately found it so:
  Five hundred pound was left to me,
  Which I consum'd immediately:
  And when my Money was all gone,
  I like an Ass was lookt upon.

  While I had Gold and Silver store,
  I thought the world did me adore:
  For then each false dissembling Curr,
  Would cry, your humble servant, Sir:
  But now my Money is all spent,
  Too late, poor Fool, I do lament.

[Illustration]

  When I was in Prosperity,
  Each Tap-lach[F. 218] that I passed by:
  Would cringe and bow, and swear to be
  My Servant to Eternity:
  But now alas, my Money's gone,
  And Servants I have never a one.

  But now if to their house I go,
  E're drink they draw, they'l surely know
  If that my Pocket it will speak,
  Which is enough my heart to break:
  If not, then he who was my friend,
  Out of the door soon will me send.

  Oh, what a dreadful thing is this,
  That I of all my Servants miss;
  And those who did me oft invite,
  To drink with them now do me slight:
  But if again I Money get,
  I surely then shall have more wit.

  Yet is not spending all the Crime,
  For idly then I spent my time,
  And rather than Companions lack,
  I'de pick up every Idle Jack:
  And he that would me Master call,
  Should me command, my Purse and all.

  The Hostis she would flatter then,
  And say I was a pretty Man:
  And this so tickled then mine ear,
  That I my praise so oft did hear:
  Come hang't said I, giv's t'other Pot,
  And thus I feasted every Sot.

  At last I had no Money left,
  And then was I of joys bereft;
  My Host and Hostis they did frown,
  And said I was a Drunken Clown:
  So then was I dispis'd by all,
  That me before did Master call.

  From street to street as I did pass,
  Folks cry'd, there goes a Drunken Ass,
  Who not long since had Money store,
  But now no Creature is more poor:
  For Pots and Pipes made him so low,
  That like a Beggar he doth go.

  Then who would pitty such a one,
  Who could not keep himself alone,
  If Wife and Children he had had,
  The case had then been far more sad:
  But he no pitty doth deserve,
  If for a bit of Bread he starve.

  This is the pitty I do find,
  That when I had it was so kind,
  To him that said he was my friend,
  I'de give him Wine and Money lend;
  But now myself I have undone,
  My Company all men do shun.

  Let this my case a warning be,
  That none may play the Fool like me:
  A greater plague there cannot be,
  Than falling from Prosperitie
  Into a state so deadly low,
  Your nearest friends will not you know.

  Account your Money as your friend,
  So shall you flourish to the end,
  But when you come of friends to borrow,
  It will but aggravate your sorrow:
  To see how they will slight you then,
  And say you are the worst of men.

  Your Pot Companions will you slight,
  In whom they once did take delight,
  And while your Money it doth last
  With Oaths they'l tye their friendship fast:
  But when that you have wasted all,
  Then from you will your Servants fall.

  Such servants you may have good store,
  Who help to eat you out of door,
  And by their drinking in Excess,
  Will help to make you Money less:
  Then Young-men warning take by me,
  That of my Money was too free.

  This doth my Passion much provoke,
  To think when I am like to Choake,
  Those that I heretofore did feast,
  They will not mind me in the least:
  Nor make me drink, who once were proud,
  To drink with me to be allow'd.

  My Kindred and Relations near,
  Who once did vow they lov'd me dear;
  Will know me not, but me despise,
  As loathsom to their scornful eyes:
  For without Money there's no Friend,
  And thus my Song in Woe doth End.

FINIS.

Printed for _F. Coles_, _T. Vere_, _J. Wright_, _J. Clarke_, _W.
Thackeray_, and _T. Passinger_.

    [Footnote 218: Used as a term of contempt for a publican,
    _taplash_ being very small beer, or the refuse of the casks.]


[105.] _Scogin_ on a time had two eggs to his breakefast, and _Jacke_
his scholler should rost them, and as they were rosting, _Scogin_ went
to the fire to warme him, and as the eggs were rosting _Jacke_ said,
Sir, I can by sophistry prove that here be three Eggs. Let me see
that, said _Scogin_. I shall tell you, sir, said Jacke: Is not here
one? Yes, said _Scogin_. And is not here two, said _Jacke_? Yea, said
_Scogin_, of that I am sure. Then _Jacke_ did tell the first egge
againe, saying, is not this the third? O said _Scogin_, _Jacke_ thou
art a good sophister. Wel, said _Scogin_, these two eggs shal serve me
for my break fast, and take thou the third for thy labour, and for the
herring that thou didst give mee the last day. So one goode turne doth
aske another, and to deceive him that goeth about to deceive, is no
deceit.


[94.] A Gentleman Hawk'd in another mans ground, to which the surly
owner shew'd himself angry; at which the Gentleman spet in his face.
What is your reason for that? said the Farmer. I cry you mercy, said
the Gentleman, I gave you warning, for I hawked before I spet.


[67.] A Scholar traveyling, and having noe money, call'd at an
Alehouse, and ask'd for a penny loafe, then gave his hostesse it
againe, for a pot of ale; and having drunke it of, was going away. The
woman demanded a penny of him. For what? saies he. Shee answers, for
y^e ale. Quoth hee, I gave you y^e loafe for it. Then, said she, pay
for y^e loafe. Quoth hee, had you it not againe? which put y^e woman
to a _non plus_, that y^e scholar went free away.


[93.] _George_ (_Peele_) lying at an old Widdowes house, and had gone
on so farre on the Score, that his credit would stretch no further:
for she had made a vow not to depart with drinke or victuals without
ready money. Which _George_ seeing the fury of his froward Hostis, in
griefe kept his Chamber; called to his Hostis and told her, she
should understand that he was not without money, how poorely soever he
appeared to her, and that my diet shall testifie: in the meane time,
good Hostis, quoth he, send for such a friend of mine. Shee did:
so his friend came: to whom _George_ imparted his mind; the effect
whereof was this, to pawne his Cloake, Hose and Doublet, unknowne
to his Hostis: for, quoth _George_ this seven nights doe I intend to
keepe my bed. (Truly hee spake, for his intent was that the bed
should not keepe him any longer). Away goes he to pawne his apparell;
_George_ bespeakes good cheere to supper, which was no shamble butcher
stuffe, but according to the place; for, his Chamber being remote
from the house, at the end of the Garden, his apparell being gone, it
appeared to him as the Counter; therefore to comfort himselfe he dealt
in Poultrie. His friend brought the money, supped with him: his Hostis
hee very liberally payed, but cavelled with her at her unkindnesse:
vowing that while he lay there, none should attend him but his friend.
The Hostis reply'd, A God's name, she was well contented with it: so
was _George_ too: for none knew better than himselfe what he intended;
but in briefe thus he used his kinde Hostis. After his Apparell and
Money was gone, hee made bolde with the feather bed hee lay on, which
his friend-ship convey'd away, having as villanous a Wolfe in his
belly as _George_, though not altogether so wise; for that feather
bed they devoured in two daies, feathers and all, which was no sooner
digested, but away went the Coverlet, Sheetes and the Blancket; and at
the last dinner, when _George's_ good friend perceiving nothing left
but the bed-cords, as the Devill would have it, straight came into his
mind the fashion of a halter; the foolish kind knave would needs fetch
a quart of sacke for his friend _George_; which Sacke to this day
never saw Vintners Cellar; and so he left _George_ in a cold chamber,
a thin shirt, a ravished bed, no comfort left him, but the bare bones
of deceased Capons. In this distresse, George bethought him what he
might doe; nothing was left him; and as his eye wandred up and downe
the empty Chamber, by chance he spied out an old Armour; at which
sight George was the joyfullest man in Christendome; for the Armour of
Achilles, that Ulysses and Ajax strove for, was not more precious to
them, than this to him: for hee presently claps it upon his backe, the
Halbert in his hand, the Moryon on his head, and so gets out the backe
way, marches from Shorditch to Clarkenwell, to the no small wonder of
those spectators that beheld him. Being arrived to the wished haven
he would be, an old acquaintance of his furnished him with an old Sute
and an old Cloake for his old Armour.


  A Lawier being sicke and extreame ill,    [102.]
  Was mooved by his friends to make his will,
  For they with one consent resolved all;
  He never more would see Westminster Hall.
  Hee feeling in himselfe his end was neere,
  Unto their counsell did encline his eare;
  And absolute gave all the wealth he had
  To franticke persons, lunaticke and mad,
  To no man else he would a pennie give,
  But only such as doe in _Bedlem_ live.
  This caused his friends most strangely to admire,
  And some of them his reason did require?
  Quoth he, my reason to you I'le reveale:
  That you may see with equitie I deale.
  From mad mens hands I did my wealth receave,
  Therefore that wealth to madmens hands I leave.


[110.] Not farre from maister _Hobsons_ house, there dwelled one of
those cunning men, otherwise called fortune tellers, such
cossoning[F. 219] companions, as at this day, (by their Crafts) make
simple women beleeve how they can tell what husbands they shall have,
how many children, how many sweetharts, and such like: if goods bee
stole, who hath them, with promise to helpe them to their losses
againe; with many other like deceiptfull elusions. To this wise man
(as some termes him) goes maister _Hobson_, not to reap any benefit
by his crafty cunning, but to make a Jest, and tryall of his
experience, so, causing one of his servants to lead a masty[F. 220]
dog after him, staying at the Cuning mans doore with the dog in his
hand, up goes master _Hobson_ to y^e wise man, requesting his skil,
for he had lost ten pound lately taken from him by theeves, but when
and how he knew not well. The cunning man knowing maister _Hobson_
to be one of his neighbors, and a man of a good reputation, fell (as
he made showe) to conjuring and casting of figures, and after a few
words of incantation, as his common use was, hee tooke a very large
faire looking glasse, and bad Maister _Hobson_ to looke in the same,
but not to cast his eyes backward in any Case; the which hee did,
and therein saw the picture of a huge and large oxe with two broad
hornes on his head, the which was no otherwise, but as hee had often
deceitfully shewd to others, a cossoning fellow like the cunning man
himselfe, clothed in an oxe hide, which fellow he maintained as his
servant, to blinde the peoples eyes withall, and to make them
beleeve hee could shew them the Divill at his pleasure in a glasse:
this vision maister _Hobson_ perceving, & gessing at the knavery
thereof, gave a whistle for his dog, which then stayed below at the
doore, in his man's keeping, which whistle being no sooner hard but
the dog ran up the stayers to his maister, as hee had beene mad,
and presently fastned upon the poor fellow in the oxe hide, and so
tore him as it was pittifull to see. The Cunning man cried for the
passion of God take off your dog. No, (quoth Maister _Hobson_) let
the Divill and the Dogge fight, venture thou thy divill, and I will
venture my dog. To conclude, the oxe hide was torne from the fellows
backe, and so their knaveryes were discovered, and their cunning
shifts layd open to the world.

  [Footnote 219: Cozening, cheating.]

  [Footnote 220: Mastiff.]


[94.] A Country fellow going down _Ludgate Hill_, his heels by chance
slipping from him, fell upon his Breech: one standing by, told him
that _London_ Streets were stout and scornful: It may be so, quoth he,
yet I made them to kisse my Breech, as stout as they were.



The London Ladies Vindication

of

Top-Knots:

With the many Reasons that She shows for the Continuation of the same:

As also proving Men to be as Proud as themselves.


To the Tune of, _Here I love, There I love_: Or, _The two English
Travellers_.

Licensed according to Order.


  Young Women and Damsels that love to go fine,      [112.]
  Come listen a while to this Ditty of mine,
  In spight of all Poets, brave Girls, we will wear
  _Our Towers and Top Knots, with Powdered Hair_.

  I am a young Woman, 'tis very well known,
  And I am resolv'd to make use of my own,
  In spight of all Poets, brave Girls, we will wear
  _A Tower and Top Knot, with Powdered Hair_.

  They talk of a Calf which was seen in our dress,
  But let us take Courage, Girls, nevertheless.
  In spight of those Rumours, we'll constantly wear
  _A Tower and Top Knot, and Powdered Hair_.

  We are not such Fools to believe what they say,
  'Tis fit that young Women should go fine and gay,
  In spight of their Bugbears, brave Girls, let us wear,
  _Rich Towers and Top Knots, with Powdered Hair_.

  Were we to be Ruled by some sort of Men,
  We should go like Women of Fourscore and Ten,
  In spight of those Cox combs, brave Girls, we will wear
  _Rich Towers and Top Knots, with Powdered Hair_.

  Like Beautiful Angels we strive to appear,
  The Hearts of our Husbands in order to cheer,
  Then what is the Reason that we may not wear
  _Rich Towers and Top Knots, with Powdered Hair_.

[Illustration]

  If we are the Pleasure and Joy of their Life,
  Pray when can they take more delight in a Wife,
  Then at the same time when rich Garments they wear,
  _With Towers and Top Knots, and Powdered Hair_.

  We see the young Misses and Jilts of the Town,
  Have six Stories high, as they walk up and down,
  Then pray tell me why should not honest Wives wear
  _Rich Towers and Top Knots, with Powdered Hair_.

  If we an't as Fine and as Gaudy as they,
  Who knows but our Husbands might soon run astray,
  Consider this, Women, and still let us wear
  _Our Towers and Topknots, with Powdered Hair_.

  It is but a Folly to tell us of Pride,
  While we have these Arguments still on our side;
  As long as we live we will flourishing wear
  _Rich Towers and Top Knots, with Powdered Hair_.

  Nay further I'le tell ye the case it is thus,
  That all is not sav'd which is put in the Purse;
  A Shopkeepers Lady she utters much Ware
  _When drest in her Top Knots, with Powdered Hair_.

  What Man would not have his Wife richly Array'd
  When as he well knows it enlarges his Trade;
  Come, come, I must tell ye, 'tis fit we should wear
  _Rich Towers and Top Knots, with Powdered Hair_.

  Sometimes when our Husbands are out of the way,
  Pray tell me what huffing young Gallants will stay,
  If that a fine Delicate Wife were not there?
  _Then Hey for the Top Knots, and Powdered Hair_.

  Some young-men may flout us, yet mark what I say,
  There's no Woman living, now Prowder than they;
  Observe but the many knick-knacks which they wear.
  _More Costly than Top Knots, or Powdered Hair_.

  Their Wigg, Watch, and Rapiers we daily behold,
  And Embroidered Wastcoats of Silver and Gold;
  Likewise, Turn up Stockings, they constantly wear
  _More Costly than Topknots, or Powdered Hair_.

  If Pride be a sin and a folly, why then
  Han't we a far better Example from Men?
  If Gaudy Apparel those Gallants do wear,
  _We will have our Top Knots and Powdered Hair_.

Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, J. Blare, J. Black.


[103.] A Gentleman in a Town in _Hartfordshire_, being much in Debt,
was oblig'd to keep House close, a Bailiff who had been promised a
great reward to take that Gentleman, having made several attempts in
vain to snap him, at last resolv'd upon one that he thought could not
fail, so pretending himself in dispair, came by the Gentlemans Parlor
Window, (which was next the Street, and where he sat Writing every
Day) and pulling out of his Pocket a Halter, made a Nooze, and seemed
as if he intended to Hang himself therewith; a Grindstone was before
the Door, upon which he got up, and threw the Rope over a good Bough
of the Tree, and fastned it, and then put his Head in, concluding
the Gentleman would whip out, and so he should arrest him; but as the
Devil would have it, the Grindstone which stood firm like a Rock for
him to get up, tumbled down as soon as ever the Halter was about his
Neck, the Innocent, Unwary Gentleman seeing what past, sallied out,
to Cut the Rope, and save the Man; but the Bailiff's Follower lying
in Ambuscade, snap'd the Gentleman as soon as ever he peept out, and
carried him off, and let his Master hang; who carried the Jest too
far, and when the Gentleman told the Bailiff's Follower that his
Master would soon be Dead if he did not cut him down--Let him be D----
said he, I have got my Prize, and I shall have the Reward, and my
Masters place too.


[26.] A Man being very much diseas'd and weak, was bemoaning himself
to his only Son, whom he lov'd very well. For, _Jack_, says he, if I
stand, my Legs ake, if I kneel my Knees ake, if I go, my Feet ake, if
I lie then my Back akes, if I sit my Hips ake, if I lean, my Elbows
ake. Why truly, Father, says he, (like a good dutiful Child) I advise
you, Father, to hang yourself an hour or two, and if that does not do,
then come to me again.


[67.] A Scholer being at a Parson's house, stole a Pig; the Parson
looking out at his window, spied him and said, Scholer, Scholer, I'le
none of that. Noe more you shall, quoth y^e Scholer, and ran away with
it.


[82.] A Nobleman of France (as hee was riding) met with a yeoman of
the Country, to whom he said, My friend, I should know thee, I doe
remember I have often seene thee: My good Lord, said the Countryman,
I am one of your Honors poore tenants, and my name is T. I. I remember
thee better now (said my Lord) there were two brothers of you, but one
is dead, I pray which of you doth remaine alive.

The aforesaid Nobleman having had a Harper that was blinde playing to
him after supper, somewhat late, at last hee arose, and commanded one
of his servants to light the Harper downe the staires: to whom the
Serving man sayd, my Lord, the Harper is blind; thou ignorant knave,
quoth my Lord, he hath the more need of light.


[105.] When that _Scogin_ had taught his scholler that hee with helpe
might be Sub deacon, he said to him, thou shalt goe to take orders,
and I will go with thee. And if thou dost stand in any doubt, take
heed to my booke, and give an eare to me, and I will helpe thee as
much as I can. When all they that should take orders, were come
to oppositions, _Scogin_ did come forth with his scholler. And the
Ordinary did oppose him with a verse of the Psalter; which was
this, _Moab, Agareni, Gebal, Amon & Amalek, cum habitantibus Tirum_.
_Scogins_ scholler was blanke or amazed. Sir, said _Scogin_ to the
Ordinary, you shall understand that _Moab, Agareni, Gebal, Amon &
Amalek, cum habitantibus Tirum_, were unhappy fellowes, for they did
trouble the children of Israel, and if they trouble my scholler, it
is no marvell: but now I doe tell thee, my scholler, be not afraid of
_Moab, Agareni, Gebal, Amon & Amalek, cum habitantibus Tirum_, for I
will stand beside to comfort thee, for _Moab, Agareni &c_ can do thee
no harm for they be dead. By reason that _Scogin_ did so oft repeate
these words, the scholler did reade this verse aforesaid: and through
_Scogins_ promise, the Ordinary was content that his scholler should
take Orders, and be Sub deacon. After this when the orders were given
againe, _Scogin_ did speake to his schollers Father, to send in a
letter three or foure peeces of gold. The Schollers Father was content
so to doe; so that his son might be Deacon. Then said _Scogin_ to his
scholler, thou shalt deliver this letter to the Ordinary, when he doth
sit in oppositions, and as soone as he feeleth the letter, he will
perceive that I have sent him some money, and he will say to thee
_Quomodo valet magister tuus?_ that is to say, how doth thy Master?
thou shalt say _Bene_: that is to say, well. Then will he say, _Quid
petis?_ What thing doest thou aske? Then thou shalt say, _Diaconatum_,
to be a Deacon. Then the Ordinary will say, _Es tu literatus?_ art
thou learned? & thou shalt say _Aliqualiter_, somewhat. Now said
_Scogin_, thou hast no more than three words to beare in mind in
Latine, which is to say _Bene_, _Diaconatum_, and _Aliqualiter_. The
father and the scholler were glad that by _Scogins_ letters & the
money he should be Deacon, & went to the oppositions, and delivered
his letter with the money. The Ordinary perceiving money in the
letter, said to the scholler. _Quid petis?_ that is to say, what dost
thou aske or desire? The scholler remembring _Scogins_ words, that
the first word was _Bene_, he said _Bene_, that is, well. When the
Ordinary heard him say so, he said _Quomodo valet Magister tuus?_
How doth thy Master? The scholler said, _Diaconatum_ that is to say
Deacon. The Ordinary did see he was a foole, & said, _Tu es stultus_,
thou art a foole: the scholler said _Aliqualiter_, that is to say,
somewhat. Nay, said the Ordinary not _Aliqualiter_, but _Totaliter_, a
starke foole. Then the scholler was amazed, and said, sir, let me not
goe home without mine Orders, and heere is another Angell of gold for
you to drinke. Well, said the Ordinary, on that condition you will
promise me to goe to your booke and learne, you shall bee Deacon at
this time. Heere a man may see that money is better than learning.


[17.] In a wedding between a Gentleman of a great Family and no
Wealth, and a Widdow of great Wealth; says one This is like a Black
pudding; the one brought _blood_, and the other _Suet_ and _Oatmeal_.


[110.] In the beginning of Queene Elizabeaths raigne, when the order
of hanging out lanterne and Candlelight first of all was brought
up; the bedell of the warde where Maister _Hobson_ dwelt, in a darke
evening crieing up and downe, hang out your lantornes; using no
other words. Whereupon Maister _Hobson_ tooke an empty lantorne, and
according to the beadles call hung it out. This flout by the Lord
Maior was taken in ill part, and for the same offence was sent to
the counter; but being released, the next night following, the beadle
thinking to amend his call, cried with a loud voice, hang out your
lantorne and Candle. Maister _Hobson_ hereupon hung out a lantorne
and candle unlighted, as the beadle againe commanded, whereupon he was
sent againe to the counter. But the next night the beadle being better
advised, cryed, hang out your lantorne and candle light, hang out your
lantorne and candle light, which maister _Hobson_ at last did, to his
great commendations, which cry of lanthorne and candle light is in
right manner used to this day.


[94.] One observ'd it to be a good fashion that was worn now a days,
because the Taylors had so contrivd it, that there was little or no
Waste in a whole Suit.


The illustration to this satire on drunkenness (which is dated
September 1652) is indebted for its point to the foxes, it being then
a cant term when a man was drunk to say he was _foxed_; the geese
denote the foolish behaviour of men when under the influence of drink.



BARNABIES SUMMONS:

or,

Paie your Groat in the Morning.


[113.] Intended for all Malaga Men, called Vintners, Sack drawers,
White wine, Claret, Rhenish, Bastard Sherry, or Canary Blades, and
Birds, together with all Ale Brewers, Beer Brewers (alias) Hogshead
fillers, Barrellers, Tapsters, or Firkinners: As also for all
Drawers, Tub Tapsters, Quaffers, Huffers, Puffers, Snuffers, Rufflers,
Scufflers, and Shufflers, with Wine bibbers, Sack suckers, and Toast
makers; not forgetting other depending Officers of a lower Rank, of
our stumbling Fraternity, viz Bench whistlers, Lick-wimbles, Suck
spigots, Hawkers, Spewterers, Maudliners, Fox catchers, including in
the said Warrant as a Reserve, our true and trusty Friends for the
speedier effecting our designe and purpose, All Vulcans, Crispins,
Tinkers, Pedlars, and of late our endeared friends, the Society of
Upstart Printers, and Newes Mongers; and excluding by special command,
all Three peny Ordinary Sharks, as Bakers, Weavers, Tailors, Usurers,
Snip Eared Scriveners, Presbyters, either English, Scotch, or Dutch,
(but stay there a little) for though the last of these be good for
nothing else, yet they are stout Drinkers and Drunkards; and therefore
if they please to tiple as formerly they have done, and must doe now,
they shall have the benefit of this our Warrant, provided they neither
drink all, nor too much; our Warrant for the generall content of all
BONOS SOCIOS is set out in maner and forme following, that all whom it
may concern (as it does too many) may, if they can stand, understand
it.

[Illustration: Gently, good Cozen.

Execute your Warrant.

Beware your Geese.]


The WARRANT.

Know all men by these presents, that we, Sir _Resolute Rednose_, of
the Town of _Taplow_, in the County of Cumberland, with our dear and
trusty Cosins Sir _Ferdinando Fiery Face_, Lord _Sigismund Ruby Nose_,
together with our associates and fellow Commissioners, Sir _William
Swill-boule_, Sir _Gregory Toss-pot_, Sir _Thomas Spend-all_, Sir
_Alexander Dry lips_, Sir _Lewis Lick-Spiggot_, _Edward Barley_,
_Thomas Maltster_, _Richard Brewer_, and _Geffery Tapster_ Esquires
&c. By vertue of a _Mandamus_, or a _fieri facias_, issued unto us
from the great Wine Cellar in _Bacchus_ Prerogative Court, near to
Stumbling Alley, from the Lord _James Fill-Pot_, and Signeur _Jeronymo
Tap-lash_, do Enact, appoint, and ordaine, that any and every person,
male or female, of what Countrey soever, being taken so drunk, that
they are without wit, sence, or reason, shall forthwith pay to the
under Officers herein named, viz, to John _Bottle nose_, _William
Suck-all_, _Gerard Turn-Tub_, and _Jenkin ap Morgan_ of _Ale-ton_, or
to their Deputy, or Deputies, the full and just sum of 4^d without any
resistance or delay upon the next Morning; but in case of any of the
Delinquents in the Premises, shall be so ingenuous as to confesse
their fault without distraining, that then this Penalty shall not
exceed above 2^d. But in case the parties are resolved to ride the
old ridden Jade called _Cut_, or a Dog of the same Haire[F. 221] next
morning, without any remorse, and will presume to hunt the Fox againe,
that then our said Bayliffs, and Deputies are forthwith either to
joyne with them, or else to suspend the execution of this our said
Warrant, till he or they may be sober, which is much feared will not
quickly be effected; and therefore, for the better and surer progresse
herein, that Justice may be the sooner executed, we enjoyn all
Constables of Burroughs and Parishes as well high as Petty, to be
assisting to this our merry Warrant, and do desire them if they or
any of their substitute Officers can find leasure from sleep, or their
nodding benches, to examine the Premises and Persons, to shew due
respects unto them, considering well that the case and cause not only
hath been their own, but suddenly and shortly will be again, as soon
as they can either meet with merry Company or good moneys. Hereof they
or any of them are not to faile at their utmost perils.

  To all Constables, Head boroughs,
  and other petty Officers,
  and stout Drinkers, whom this
  specially concernes.

  Given at our Mannour of
  _Flushing_ in the _Full Moone
  Tavern_ at Sun rising

  Anno 155432.

  Upon the last day of the first
  of March.

  _Ut Supra._

    [Footnote 221: _Sic in orig._]


[26.] One told a Story (which he swore was of certain as you know all
these things are,) For, says he, I was riding to Saint _Albans_, and
riding through a Lane, that was of stiff Clay, as I was galloping,
my Horses foot sticking in, pluckt off shoe and hooff too, and so I
gallopt on for three or four Miles; and my horse never complained,
that I never saw a horse gallop so well on three legs in my life; at
length he began to limp, then I lighted to see what he ailed and
found both shooe and hooff gone; so, fearing to pay for the horse,
got presently up agen, and gallopt as fast as I could drive; and
fortunately my Horse leg lighted agen in the same place, and pull'd up
hooff, shoe and all, which was better fastened than when I came out;
and so I performed my journy, and got that night as far as I rid.


  One evening as Cold as Cold might be,        [91.]
  With frost and haile, and pinching weather,
  Companions about three times three
  Lay close all in a pound together.
  Yet one after another they tooke a heate,
  And died that night all in a sweat.

_Resolution._ A pound of Candles.



=Dead and Alive.=


  This DITTY out of _Gloucestershire_ was sent,
  To _London_, for to have it put in Print;
  Therefore draw near, and listen unto this,
  It doth concern a Man that did Amiss;
  And so to shun the Anger of his WIFE,
  He thought with Poyson for to end his Life,
  But instead of Poyson he drank Sack,
  For which his Wife did soundly pay's back--

To the Tune of _Old Flesh_ &c.--

  There was a shaving Royster,      [114.]
    as I heard many tell,
  In _Michal-Danes_ fair forest,
    in _Gloucestershire_ did dwell;


  Some call'd him _William Wiseman_,
    but in that they were to blame,
  Some call'd him _Leonard Lackwit_,
    but that was not his name;
  His name was _Simple Simon_,
    as it is well approv'd,
  And among his Friends and Kinsfolks,
    he dearly was belov'd:
  He capor'd and he vapour'd
    and he liv'd a merry life,
  But yet, good Man, at all times,
    he could not rule his Wife.

[Illustration]

  His Wife she was a Woman,
    that lov'd a cup of Sack,
  And she would tipple soundly,
    behind her Husband's back;
  A bottle she had gotten that
    would hold two quarts or more,
  Well fill'd with wine she hang'd it
    behind her chamber door:
  And she told unto her Husband
    that it was poyson strong,
  And bad him not to touch it,
    for fear of doing wrong:
  If thou drink but one drop on't,
    (quoth she) 'twill end thy life;
  Therefore in time take heed,
    and be ruled by thy Wife.

  This Simon's wife had plenty
    of fatting hogs and pigs,
  With geese, ducks, hens, and turkies,
    that laid great store of eggs:
  Both Sheep and such like cattel,
    fine ews and pritty lambs,
  Which up and down the forrest
    did feed, and suck their dams;
  She put trust to her Husband
    to look unto them all,
  To keep them safe from danger;
    now mark what did befal:
  He did his best endeavour
    to shun all sorts of strife,
  And yet through strange misfortune
    he could not please his Wife.

  One morning she sent him
    to field to keep her sheep,
  And charg'd him to be watchful,
    and take heed he did not sleep:
  A piece of bread and butter
    she gave him in his hand,
  Whereby she made him promise
    to do as she did command.
  But see what happened to him,
    when he came to the field,
  He fell asleep, while foxes
    three of his lambs had killed:
  This bred a great dissention
    and rais'd a world of strife,
  Till _Simon_ for his fault
    had beg'd pardon of his Wife.

  Another day she sent him
    her ducks and geese to tend,
  And charg'd him on her blessing,
    he should no more offend:
  Her goslins and her chickens
    with him she put in trust,
  Who took a stick and told them,
    for they were twenty just:
  But a woful chance befel to
    poor _Simon_ before night,
  For seven of his chickens
    were took prisoners by the kite:
  This vexed him, and it made him
    half weary of his life,
  For he knew not what answer
    to make unto his Wife.

  Next morning when that _Simon_
    was sent to milk the cow,
  Another strange mishap there was
    done to him by the sow;
  For whilst that he was driving
    the little pigs away,
  The sow came into the dairy-house
    and swill'd up all the whey;
  The cheese out of the cheese fat
    she did both tear and hawl,
  And so threw down the cream-pot,
    and made an end of all:
  Wherewith she burst her belly,
    and so she lost her life,
  And poor _Simon_ knew not what answer
    to make unto his wife.

  When's Wife came in the dairy-house,
    and saw what there was done,
  A strong and fierce encounter
    she presently begun;
  She pull'd him by the ears,
    and she wrung him by the nose,
  And she kickt him on the belly,
    while the tears ran down his hose.
  And she vow'd to be revenged
    before the morrow day,
  For all the brood of chickens,
    which the kite had carried away:
  Poor _Simon_ stood amazed,
    being weary of his life,
  For he good Man was tired
    with his unruly Wife.

  For when that he perceived
    his Wife in such a rage,
  Nor knowing how, nor which way
    his fury to asswage:
  He cunningly got from her,
    and to the chamber went,
  Thinking himself to poyson,
    for that was his intent;
  So coming to the bottle,
    which I spoke of before,
  He thought it to be poyson,
    which hung behind the door:
  He vow'd to drink it all up,
    and end his wretched life,
  Rather than live in thraldom,
    with such a cursed Wife.

  So opening of a window, which
    stood towards the South,
  He took the bottle of sack,
    and set it to his mouth:
  Now will I drink this poyson,
    (quoth he) with all my heart;
  So that the first draught he drunk on't
    he swallowed near a quart:
  The second time that he set
    the bottle to his snout,
  He never left off swigging,
    till he had suckt all out:
  Which done, he fell down backward
    like one bereft of life,
  Crying out, I now am poysoned
    by means of my cursed Wife.

  Quoth he, I feel the poyson
    now run through every vein,
  It rumbles in my belly,
    and it tickles in my brain;
  It wambles in my stomack,
    and it molifies my heart,
  It pierceth through my members,
    and yet I feel no smart;
  Would all that have curst wives,
    example take hereby,
  For I dye as sweet a death sure,
    as ever man did dye:
  'Tis better with such poyson,
    to end a wretched life,
  Than to live, and be tormented
    with such a wicked Wife.

  Now see what followed after,
    his Wife by chance did walk,
  And coming by the window,
    she heard her _Simon_ talk;
  And thinking on her bottle,
    she up the stairs did run,
  And came into the chamber,
    to see what he had done;
  When as she saw her Husband,
    lying drunk upon his back,
  And the bottle lying by him,
    but never a drop of sack:
  I am poyson'd, I am poyson'd,
    quoth he, long of my Wife,
  I hope I shall be at quiet
    now I have lost my life.

  Pox take you, are you poyson'd,
    (quoth she) I now will strive,
  And do my best endeavour
    to make you run alive:
  With that a quill of powder
    she blew up in his nose,
  Then like a man turn'd antick,
    he presently arose;
  So down the stairs he run straight,
    into the open street,
  With hooping and hollowing,
    to all that he did meet;
  And with a loud voice cryed out,
    I am raised from death to life,
  By virtue of a powder, that
    was given me by my Wife.

  Some folks that did behold him,
    were in a grievous fear,
  For seeing of a Madman,
    they durst not him come near:
  He leaped and he skipped,
    thorow fair and thorow foul,
  Whilst the people gaz'd upon him
    like pyce upon an owl:
  His Wife she followed after,
    thorow thick, and thorow thin,
  And with a basting cudgel
    she soundly bang'd his skin:
  And thus poor _Simon_ cryed out
    I'm raised from death to life,
  By virtue of a powder, that
    was given me by my Wife.

  At last a friend of _Simon's_
    which was to him some kin,
  By fair and kind persuasions,
    open'd door and let him in;
  He sent for _Simon's_ Wife, and
    so made them both good friends,
  Who kindly kist each other,
    and so all discord ends;
  The Neighbours all rejoyced
    to see them thus agreed,
  And like a loving couple
    to bed they went with speed.
  No doubt but _Simple Simon_
    that night well pleas'd his wife,
  For ever since that time, he
    hath lived a quiet life.

_London_: Printed by and for _W. Onley_,[F. 222] and
_A. Melbourn_;[F. 223] and sold by the Booksellers of
_Pye Corner_ and _London Bridge_.

    [Footnote 222: Published between 1650 and 1702.]

    [Footnote 223: Published between 1670 and 1697.]


[93.] _George_ (_Peele_) was making merry with three or foure of his
friends in Pye Corner; where the Tapster of the house was much given
to Poetrie: for he had ingrossed The Knight of the Sunne, Venus
and Adonis, and other Pamphlets which the Stripling had collected
together; and knowing _George_ to be a Poet, he tooke great delight in
his company, and out of his bounty would bestow a brace of Cannes of
him. _George_ observing the humour of the Tapster, meant presently to
worke upon him. What will you say, quoth _George_ to his friends, if,
out of this spirit of the Cellar, I fetch a good Angell, that shall
bid us all to supper. We would gladly see that quoth his friends.
Content your selfe, quoth _George_. The Tapster ascends with his two
Cannes, delivers one to Master _Peele_, and the other to his friends:
gives them kind welcome: but _George_, in stead of giving him thankes,
bids him not to trouble him: and beginnes in these termes: I protest,
Gentlemen, I wonder you will urge me so much; I sweare I have it not
about me. What is the matter? quoth the Tapster. Hath any one angered
you? No, faith, quoth _George_, Ile tell thee, it is this: There is
a friend of ours in Newgate, for nothing but onely the command of the
Justices, and he being now to be released, sends to me to bring him an
Angell: now the man I love dearely well; and if hee want tenne Angels
he shall have them; for I know him sure: but heere's the misery,
either I must goe home, or I must be forced to pawne this; and pluckes
an old Harry-groat out of his pocket. The Tapster lookes upon it: Why,
and it please you, Sir, quoth he, this is but a groat. No, Sir, quoth
_George_, I know it is but a groat: but this groat will I not lose for
forty pound: for this groat had I of my mother, as a testimony of a
Lease of a House I am to possesse after her decease; and if I should
lose this groat, I were in a faire case: and either I must pawne this
groat, or there the fellow must lye still. Quoth the Tapster, If it
please you, I will lend you an Angell on it, and I will assure you it
shall bee safe. Wilt thou? quoth _George_; as thou art an honest man,
locke it up in thy Chest, and let me have it whensoever I call for
it. As I am an honest man, you shall, quoth the Tapster. _George_
delivered him his groat; the Tapster gave him ten shillings: to the
Taverne goe they with the money, and there merrily spend it. It fell
out, some time after, the Tapster, having many of these lurches,[F. 224]
fell to decay, and indeede was turned out of service, having no more
coine in the world than this groat, and in this misery, hee met
_George_, as poore as himselfe. O, Sir, quoth the Tapster, you are
happily met; I have your groat safe, though since I saw you last, I
have bid great extremitie; and I protest, save that groat, I have not
any one penny in the world; therefore I pray you, Sir, helpe me to my
money, and take your pawne. Not for the World, quoth George: thou
saist thou hast but that Groat in the world: my bargaine was, that
thou shouldst keepe that groat, untill I did demand it of thee: I ask
thee none. I will doe thee farre more good; because thou art an honest
fellow, keepe thou that groat still, till I call for it: and so doing,
the proudest Jacke in England cannot justifie that thou art not worth
a groat; otherwise, they might: and so, honest Michael, farewell. So
George leaves the poore Tapster picking of his fingers, his head full
of proclamations what he might doe: at last sighing, hee ends with
this Proverbe

  For the price of a Barrel of Beere
  I have bought a groats worth of wit,
        Is not that deare?

    [Footnote 224: Drains on his purse.]


[67.] In a certaine towne there was a goose stolne, and it could not
bee found, out who stole it; so y^e minister a while after at service,
bade all y^e people kneele downe, who answered I. (aye) Many did, but
saith hee, he that stole y^e goose doth not. But I doe, quoth hee, and
was taken.


[103.] An English Gentleman taking into his Service (in pure
Compassion) an Irishman, who was forc'd to leave his Country upon his
Conversion from the Romish (of which he was a Priest) to the English
Church: Employed him in Errands, and sometimes let him follow him, to
acquaint him with the Town; and having staid at a Coffee House some
time, in expectation of a Man with whom he had Business, who not
coming, he left his Servant there, to tell him that he could stay
no longer, but was gone to such a Tavern. The Fellow immediately run
after his Master, and ask'd him What he should say to the Gentleman if
he should not come?


[110.] A poore begger man, that was foule, blacke, and loathsome to
behould, came on a time to Maister _Hobson_ as he walked in Moore
feelds, and asked something of him for an almes, to which Maister
_Hobson_ said, I prethee, good fellow, get thee from me, for thou
lookst as thou camst lately out of hell. The poore begger man,
perceving hee would give him nothing, answered forsooth, Sir, you say
true, for I came lately out of Hell indeed; why didst not thou tarry
there still? quoth maister _Hobson_; nay, Sir, quoth the begger, there
is no Roome for such begerr men as I am, for all is kept for such
gentlemen Cittizens as you be: this wity answere caused Maister
_Hobson_ to give the poore man a teaster.[F. 225]

    [Footnote 225: Sixpence.]


[82.] A Fellow having more drinke than wit, in a winter evening made
a foolish vowe, to take the wall of as many as hee met betwixt the
Temple bar, and Charing Crosse; and comming neere the Savoy, where
stood a Poste, a little distance from the wall, the Drunkard tooke it
for a man, and would have the wall, beginning to quarrell and give the
Poste foule words: at which a man came by, and asked the matter, and
whom he spake to: hee answered hee would have the wall of that fellow
that stood so stiffly there: my friend, said the other, that is a
Poste, you must give him the way. Is it so, said the fellow, a pox
upon him, why did he not blow his horn?


[26.] Two Baboons being to be seen at their first coming to _London_,
abundance of Citizens and others did resort thither to take a view of
them, and did heartily laugh at their ugliness, and the strange faces
which they made; which a most motherly and very discreet woman being
present, did sharply thus rebuke 'em. "D'ye think you do well to laugh
at strangers, who understand not your Language, and if you were in
their Country, you'd take it for a great abuse, I warrant you, if they
should laugh at you."


[4.] King _James_ Riding a Hunting in Essex, comes to a Gate which
he must go through, and seeing a Country Clown at it, he says to
him, Prethee, good Fellow, open the gate. But he, knowing who it was,
answered, No, a'nt please your Grace, I am not worthy to be in that
Office; but I'le run and fetch M^r _Johnson_, who is a Justice of the
Peace, and lives a Mile off, and he shall open it for your Grace: so
he ran away as fast as he could, and left the King to open it himself.



THE FRENCH DANCING-MASTER

AND THE

ENGLISH SOLDIER.


Or, the Difference betwixt Fidling and Fighting


Displayed in a DIALOGUE betwixt an ENGLISHMAN

and a FRENCHMAN.


  _Englishman._

  _Monsieur_, good morn, whither away so faste?    [115.]
  Some great importance sure doth cause this haste;
  Your running looks do in effect thus say,
  _Monsieur_ is gone, 'cause Landlord asketh pay.


  _Frenchman._

  _Begar_ me no sush man, me scorn de shift
  Me plus Affaires dat me from home do lift.


  _Englishman._

  You scorn to shift, tis true I think you say,
  Witness your _Shirt_, not washt this many a day.


  _Frenchman._

  _Par me foy_ de Rascall to degrase,
  _Ne autre_ man in de _varle_ live in such case;
  _Begar_ though me no speak si bon English,
  Me thrush Tord in de belly if de speak dis;
  _Begar_ me de born Gentil-man de _France_
  Me can learn English _a le mode_ de Dance:
  Me play ode leetle Fidle, me can sing,
  _Par ma foy_, no Poet _Orphus_ sush Musick bring;
  _Begar_, you no sush man in all de _England_ have,
  For de Fidle, and de Dancing brave.


  _Englishman._

  But when you come to meet your Foe in face
  The Fidler and the Fidler's out of case.


  _Frenchman._

  _Begar_ de art _Jack-napes_ to a teetle,
  Me be brave Fellow, me can feight a leetle;
  Me wear _Feader_ in de Hat, me have _Tord_ by side,
  Me be de Gentil-man when me on de _Horse_ ride;
  _Englishman_ be a Clown, make Leg like a de Beare,
  _Frenchman_ be de Gentil-man, he fidle, and he dance rare.


  _Englishman._

  'Tis true, in dancing you do us excel,
  But can you, as the English, fight as well?
  When _Mars_ unsheaths his Sword, and Canons roar,
  And men lye welt'ring in their purple gore,
  When Towns are burnt, and Cities are destroy'd,
  To what use will your Dancing be employ'd?


  _Frenchman._

  _Begar_ he de great Fool to speak sush ting,
  Brava, brava, de Dance, de Fidele, Sing;
  No sush ting in de varle, to peepe, to dance,
  To be dreass like de Madam, _a le Mode France_.


  _Englishman._

  Brave Monsieur! gallant Monsieur! wondrous rare!
  Fidling and fooling, none with thee compare!


  _Frenchman._

  _Begar_, he be de Rogue, de Villain, de Carle,
  To speak 'gainst de Dance, de brave ting in de varle;
  _Begar_ me do love it out of all de Cry,
  _Par ma foy_ he speak 'gainst it, tell loud lye:
  _France-man_ is de Gentilman in de high Sphere,
  Vat is de Clown vas dis skip de Angleterre
  De French Monsieur skip and leap like de Spright,
  He caper and kick, is not dat a rare Shite?


  _Englishman._

  A rare Shite 'tis indeed, I needs must say,
  To see men skip like Puppets in a Play;
  To act the Mimick, fidle, prate and Dance,
  And cringe like Apes, is a le mode France:
  But to be resolute, one to fight with ten,
  And beat them, 's proper unto English men.


  _Frenchman._

  _Begar_ France man is couragio, feight like te Tiffell,
  He kill, he slay, cutt men off de midle;
  De brave Monsieurs, de _Oliver_, de _Rowland_,
  _Begar_ de feight as long as de could stand;
  _Amadis de Gaule_, de _Roy Charlemain_,
  De make blood run down like drops of de rain,
  _Begar_, with new fashion so exc'lent! so rare!
  No men in de varle wid de French make compare.


  _Englishman._

  But _Monsieur_, have you never heard report
  Of Poictiers, Crescy, and of Agen-court?
  When _France_ was drown'd with streams of Frenchmen's blood,
  And English Valor could not be withstood?
  Sixth HENRY in _Paris_ Crown'd in State,
  And _France_ (submissive) did on _England_ wait.
  When only TALBOT'S Name did bear such sway,
  To make Ten thousand French men run away?
  Is not _France_, and the Nation still the same,
  Whom _England_ did in all Encounters tame?
  Have we not Hero's still who are endu'd
  With Valor, (Stars of the first Magnitude?)
  YORKS Duke, Brave ALBEMARLE, equal to those
  Our Ancestors, who French men did oppose?
  With other Worthies of deserved Fame,
  Make Frenchmen tremble for to hear their Name.


  _Frenchman._

  _Begar_ dis true, de English-man speak right,
  _France_ leave to Dance, and now de learn to Fight.
                                          _Adieu Monsieur._

LONDON, Printed in the Year 1666.


[103.] A Nobleman often hunting, used to be always near his Huntsman,
who was an excellent old Servant, and one of whom he priz'd, and was
often familiar with; but at coming to a Hedge or Ditch, he wou'd call
him, _Jack_ do you leap first. Not I by G--, my Lord, (reply's he) do
you go first and break your Neck, if you please, I value mine a little
more.


[82.] A Countrey woman at an Assize was to take her oath against a
party; the said party entreated the Judge that her oath might not bee
taken; the Judge demanded why he excepted against her: my Lord (quoth
hee) shee is a Recusant or Romane Catholique, and they hold it in
no matter of Conscience to swear any thing against us. Come hither,
woman, said the Judge, I doe not thinke thou art a Recusant, I am
perswaded that for fourty shillings thou wilt sweare the Pope is a
knave: Good, my Lord, said shee, the Pope is a stranger to mee, but
if I knew him as well as I know your Lordship, I would sweare for half
the mony.


[116.] The following satire is given merely as a type:

  From Commonwealth Coblers, and zealous State Tinkers,
  From Speeches and Expedients of Politick Blinkers,
  From Rebellious Taps, and Tapsters, and Skinkers.
                                                  Libera nos.

  From Elephant Baptists, and their doughty free State,
  From looking in _Newgate_ through Reformation Grate,
  And from their last sayings and Hempen-ruff Fate.
                                                  Libera nos.

  From Papists on one hand, and Phanatick o' th' t'other,
  From Presbyter _Jack_, the Popes younger brother,
  And Congregational Daughters far worse than their Mother.
                                                  Libera nos.

  From Religions that teach men to kill and to slay,
  From faith that is coupled with the word Disobey,
  And from Sectaries e'er having of another day.
                                                  Libera nos.

  From Members that constantly quarrel with the Head,
  And subjects that for Sterling, pay their Sovereign with Lead,
  And preserve Kings and Governments by wishing them dead.
                                                  Libera nos.

  From over short Parliaments, and over long,
  From a selling our Birth rights for an old song,
  And breaking _Mag. Charta_ to make it more strong.
                                                  Libera nos.

  From taking away Juries by Parliament Votes,
  And securing from Popery by cutting of throats,
  From a Beam in our Eye, to cure them of Motes.
                                                  Libera nos.

  From "Vox"es, and factious saucy Addresses,
  To repeal those good Laws of honest Qu. _Bess'es_
  From Fanaticks rage, and the Popes God bless us.
                                                  Libera nos.

  From a Bill that to take away Ale and Cake voices,
  Robs all the old Freeholders, at Elections, of Choices,
  And enables Fanaticks to make greater Noises.
                                                  Libera nos.

  From the wisdom of _Bedlam_, and the anger of Fools,
  From the whipping and learning of meeting house Schools
  And the Exit of Traytors, and Commonwealth Tools.
                                                  Libera nos.


Of the following satire only a portion is given, as the pamphlet (of
ten pages) is too long to give _in extenso_:--

  [117.] Received out of the Treasuries of the Excize, Customs
  and the Exchequer      £430,000.

  Disbursed as followeth

        The ACCOMPT.

                                                          L.  S.  D

  _Imprimis._ For three and twenty long Cloaks, at
        Seven Pounds Ten Shillings, per Cloak,
        to cover the Committee[F. 226] of Safety's
        Knavery.                                        243. --. --

  _Item._ For Six Dozen of large fine Holland
        Handkerchiefs, with great French Buttons,
        for the Lord _Fleetwood_, to wipe away the
        Teares from his Excellencies Cheeks, at
        Twenty Shillings per Handkerchief.               72. --. --

  _Item_ Paid his young Daughters Musick-Master,
        and Dancing Master, for fifteen Moneths
        Arrears, due at the Interruption of Parliament
                                                         59.  5. --

  _Item_ For four rich Mantles for his Lady, two
        lac'd and two embroidered, and a brave
        New Gown, made to congratulate her
        Husband's new Honor.                            270. --. --

  _Item_ Bestowed by her Order, upon the Journey
        men Taylors, and given to him that
        brought home and tryed on the said
        Gown, seven pieces in gold.                       7. 14. --

  _Item_ For an innumerable company of Pectoral
        Rolls and Lozenges, to dry up his Excellencies
        Rheum, at two pence a piece                      30.  2.  2

  _Item_ For two Rolls of Spanish Tobacco for
        Colonel _Sydenham_, at twenty shillings
        per pound, according to the Protectors
        rate, and five black Pots to warm Ale in,
        at twelve pence a piece, together with
        ten Groce of glaz'd Pipes, at nine shillings
        the groce.                                       45. 13.  4.

  _Item_ For two gilt Horn bookes for his great son,
        at two shillings, sixpence a piece                    5. --

  _Item_ laid out for seven rich new Gowns, bespoke
        at _Paris_ for the Lady _Lambert_, to be worn
        seven several dayes one after another, at
        her Husbands coming to the Crowne,
        every Gown valued at Sixty pound, one
        with the other                                  480. --. --

  _Item_ for Pins and Gloves for the said Lady           83.  9. --

  _Item_ for vamping Colonel _Clarks_ Riding boots,
        and for new Spur Leathers                        10. --. --

          &c &c &c &c--

    [Footnote 226: A committee of 23, which was inaugurated on
    26th October 1659 to take upon themselves the exercise of the
    Government, till another form of Government should be agreed
    upon, which they declared should never be in single hands
    again, as a Chief Magistrate, a King, or even the House of
    Lords.]


Parody was almost unknown, but the following will serve as an
example:--

Song.

  I must confess, upon a day,      [118.]
  When all my thoughts were Westward ha,
  Near _Hampton Court_ I saw a Face,
  The Throne of Modesty and Grace;
  In whose each motion might be seen
  _Hadassa_ and the Southern Queen;
  Her Smiles were arguments to prove
  The _Ph[oe]nix_, and the God of Love.
  From these the Pencil learnt those Draughts
  Of _Titan's_ Beams, and _Cupid's_ Shafts.
      Bless me, said I, since I must die,
  My Heart a Sacrifice shall lie,
  Burnt with the Lustre of her eye.


  The Mock.

  And I, being lately Eastward bound,
  To take a merry Countrey Round,
  There I beheld a Thing call'd Woman,
  Save him that hath her, Match for no man!
  In whose behaviour you may spell,
  What _Job's_ Wife was, and _Jezabel_.
  Her looks make good the doubtful story
  Of _Acharon_ and Purgatory.
  From these the Painter had advice
  To limn the Toad and Cockatrice.
      This made me cry, since Friends must part,
  E're this vile wretch shall have my heart,
  I'le suffer. Drive away the Cart.


[105.] There was an olde woman that had but one tooth in her head, &
that did ake very sore, she went to Master _Scogin_ for remedy. Come
with me, mother, said _Scogin_, & you shall be healed by & by. He then
got a packthreed, and went to the Smiths forge with the woman, and
he said to the Smith, I pray you, heate me a Coulter in your Forge. I
will, said the Smith. Then he went to the old woman, and said, Mother,
let me see your tooth, and she did so: he took his packthreed and
bound it fast about the tooth, & tyed the other end of the thred at
the ring of the forge doore, whereat the Smith used to tie his horses
& mares, and when the Coulter was glowing hot, _Scogin_ tooke the
Coulter and ran with it against the old woman, saying; Why dost thou
stand here like an old mare? I will run thee through with this hot
Coulter. The woman being afraid, gave a braid[F. 227] with her head,
and ran her way, & left her tooth behind her. _Scogin_ ran after the
woman, and she cryed out for helpe (for she was afraid that _Scogin_
would have burnt her.) The Smith ran after _Scogin_ for his Coulter,
for he was afraid that _Scogin_ would run away with it.

    [Footnote 227: A start, a toss of the head.]


[94.] One perswaded a Scholar that was much given to rambling, and
going abroad, to sell or put away his Cushion, and it would be a means
to make him sit harder to his study.


[26.] A Scholar in _Oxford_ was often sent to by a Citizen for
Money, which he pretended was due to him, and finding his answer not
according to expectation he took the boldness and went to him himself,
and modestly said to him in private: Sir, There's some Money betwixt
you and I. Say you so, says the Scholar, I pray where is it? we'll
divide it if you please. Sir, says he, I have taken your word for it
hitherto. Truly, says he, so you are like to do till you are paid.


[4.] A young lad being chid by his Uncle, for lying a Bed so long in
a Morning, telling him that such a one had found a Purse of Money by
rising early in the Morning: I, says the Lad smartly, but he rose too
early that lost it.


[110.] Maister _Hobson_ on a time in company of one of his neighbors,
roade from London towards Sturbridge faire, so the first night of
there jorny they lodged at _Ware_ in an Inne where great store of
Company was, and in the morning when every man made him ready to
ride, and some were on horsbacke setting forward, the Cittizen, his
neighbour found him sitting at the Inne gate, booted and spurd, in a
browne studdy, to whome hee saide, for shame, Maister _Hobson_, why
sitte you heare, why doe you not make your selfe redy to horsebacke,
that we may set forward with company? Maister Hobson replyed in this
manner, I tarry (quoth he) for a good cause. For what cause? quoth his
neighbour. Mary, quoth Maister _Hobson_, here be so many horses, that
I cannot tell which is mine owne, and I know well, when every man is
ridden and gone, the horse that remaneth behind, must needs be mine.


[17.] A Puritan coming to a Cheese mongers to buy Cheese, when he gave
him a tast, he put his hat before his eyes, to say Grace; Nay, says
he, I see instead of tasting my Cheese, you intend to make a meal of
it.



The BEGGARS

CHORUS

IN THE JOVIAL CREW.


To an excellent New Tune.[F. 228]

[Illustration]


  There was a jovial Beggar,    [119.]
    he had a wooden Leg,
  Lame from his Cradle,
    and forced for to Beg;
  _And a Begging we will go, we'll go, we'll go,
  And a Begging we will go._

  A Bag for my Oatmeal,
    another for my Salt,
  A little pair of Crutches,
    to see how I can halt;
  _And a Begging, &c_

  A Bag for my Bread,
    another for my Cheese,
  A little Dog to follow me,
    to gather what I leese.
  _And a Begging &c_

  A Bag for my Wheat,
    another for my Rye,
  A little Bottle by my side,
    to drink when I'm a dry.
  _And a Begging we will go, we'll go, we'll go,
  And a Begging we will go._

  To _Pimlico_ we'll go,
    where merry we shall be,
  With ev'ry Man, a Can in's hand,
    and a Wench upon his knee.
  _And a Begging &c_

  Seven years I served
    my old Master Wild,
  Seven years I begged
    whilst I was but a Child
  _And a begging &c_

  I had the pretty knack
    for to wheedle and to cry,
  By young and by old
    much pitied e'er was I.
  _And a begging &c_

  Fatherless and Motherless
    still was my Complaint,
  And none that ever saw me
    but took me for a Saint.
  _And a begging &c_

  I begg'd for my Master,
    and got him store of Pelf,
  But _Jove_ now be praised,
    I now beg for myself.
  _And a begging &c_

  Within a hollow Tree
    I live, and pay no Rent,
  Providence provides for me,
    and I am well content.
  _And a begging &c_

  Of all occupations
    a Beggar lives the best,
  For when he is a weary,
    he'll lie him down and rest.
  _And a begging &c_

  I fear no Plots against me,
    but live in open Cell;
  Why who woud be a King
    when a Beggar lives so well?
  _And a begging &c._

_Printed for_ R. Brooksby _at the_ Golden Ball _in_ Pye-Corner.

    [Footnote 228: For tune, see Appendix.]


[67.] A Company went to an Inne without money, when ye reckoning was
to be pay'd, one called his hostesse, asking her what it was: she said
two shillings. Then he askt her what one should pay for bloodshed:
she answered ten groats. Then, said he, cut my finger and give me y^e
rest[F. 229] againe.

    [Footnote 229: _i.e._ give me the change.]


[52.] One _Dromo_, a certaine Tiler, sitting upon a ridge of a House,
laying on certaine roofe tiles, looking backe, and reaching somewhat
too far for a little morter, that lay by him, fell backward and by
good hap, fell upon a man that was sitting under the house, whom with
his fall he bruised to death, but thereby saved his owne life. Not
many dayes after, a sonne of the dead mans, caused this man to be
apprehended for murther, and, having him before the Judge, cried unto
the Judge for justice: who asking the prisoner what hee could say for
himselfe, received this answer. Truly, Sir, I never thought the man
any hurt, neither did I thinke to fall: but since it was my hap to hit
upon him to save my life, if it please your Lordship, I am contented
that he shall have justice; for my selfe, I had no malice to his
father, though I see he hath a great deale to me: but let him doe his
worst, I care not, I aske no favour: let him go up to the top of the
house where I sate, and I will sit where his father sate; let him fall
from the place as cunningly as hee can, and fall upon mee to save his
life, I will bee contented. The Judge seeing the mans innocency,
and how farre he was from intent of any evill to the man whom he
had slaine, willed the complainant to take this course for his
contentment: which he refusing, was dismissed the Court, and the
Prisoner thus by his wity answer released.


[110.] There was a certaine farmer that lost forty pounds betwixt
_Cambridge_ and _London_, and being so great a summe, he made
proclamation in all market Townes there abouts, that whosoever had
found forty and five pounds, should have the five pounds for his
labour for finding it, and therefore he put in the five pound more
than was lost. It was Maister _Hobsons_ fortune to find the same
sum of forty pounds, and brought the same to the baylive of _Ware_ &
required the five pounds for his paines, as it was proclaymed. When
the country farmer understood this, and that he must needs pay five
pounds for the finding, he sayd that there was in the purse five and
forty pounds, and so would hee have his owne mony and five pounds
over. So long they strove, that the matter was brought before a
Justice of the Peace, which was one Maister _Fleetwood_, who after
was Recorder of London; but when Maister _Fleetwood_ understood by the
bayleife that the proclamation was made for a purse of five and forty
pound, he demanded where it was. Here, quoth the baylie, and gave
it him. Is it just forty pound? said Maister _Fleetwood_. Yes truly,
(quoth the bayleife) Here maister _Hobson_, sayd Ma. _Fleetwood_, take
you this mony for it is your owne, and if you chance to find a purse
of five and forty pound, bring it to this honest farmer. That is mine,
quoth the farmer, for I lost just forty pound. You speake too late
(quoth Maister _Fleetwood_). Thus the farmer lost the mony, and
maister _Hobson_ had it according to justice.


[67.] Mr. French the King's Fisher, beeing a Widower, married a young
woman, and shortly died, on whom one made this distich.

  By fish hee liv'd, by fish hee thriv'd,
  He touched y^e flesh, and so hee died.


[103.] An Alderman of _Norwich_, having a Maid servant Married
from his House, went two or three Years after to see her, and ask'd
(amongst other things) how many Children she had? Truly Sir, says she,
none. O Lord, replys he, what should be the reason of that? I don't
know, says the Woman. Alas! adds the Old Fellow, now I remember me,
your Mother had none.


[105.] After a while _Scogin_ came to London, hee married a young
woman, taking her for a maid, as other men doe. At last he thought to
prove his wife, and fained himselfe sicke. Oh good wife, saies he, I
will shew you a thing, and if you will promise me to conceale it. She
said, Sir, you may tell mee what you will, I were worse than accursed,
if I should disclose your counsell: O wife, said _Scogin_, I had a
great pang to day in my sicknesse, for I did parbrake,[F. 230] and
cast out a Crow. A Crow? said shee. Yea, said _Scogin_, God helpe
me. Be of good comfort said she, you shall recover and doe well. Well
wife, said _Scogin_, goe to Church and pray for me: shee went to the
Church, and by & by one of her gossips met with her and asked how her
husband did. I wis,[F. 231] said she, a sore sick man he is, and like
to die, for there is an evill signe and token in him. What is that,
Gossip? said shee. Nay, by gisse,[F. 232] I will not tell it to any
man alive. What, said the woman, you may tell me, for I will never
bewray your counsell. By gisse, said _Scogin's_ wife, if I wist
that you wold keep my counsel, I wold tel you. Then said the woman,
whatsoever you doe tell, I will lay it dead under my feet. Oh, said
_Scogins_ wife, my husband parbraked two Crowes. Jesus, said the
woman, I never heard of such a thing. This woman as she did meet
with another gossip of hers, shewed that _Scogin_ had parbraked three
Crowes. So it went on from one gossip to another, that ere Mattens
were finished, all the parish knew that _Scogin_ had parbraked twenty
Crowes. And when the Priest was ready to goe into the Pulpit, one came
to request him and all the Parish to pray for _Scogin_, for he had
parbraked twenty Crowes. The Priest blessed him and said to the
Parishioners, I doe pray you pray for Scogin, for he is in perill
of his life, and hath parbraked 21 Crowes. By and by one went to
_Scogin_, and said, Sir, is it as it is spoken in the Church of you?
What is that, said _Scogin_. The Priest said in the Pulpit that you
parbraked 21 Crowes. Said _Scogin_, what a lie is this? By & by the
bels were told for sacring, and _Scogin_ hied him to Church, lustily
and merry, and when the men and women did see him in the Church, they
looked upon one another, and marvelled of this matter. After Masse,
_Scogin_ asked what were they that they should bring such a tale upon
him. At last the matter was so boulted out, that the original of the
cause began at Scogins wife.

    [Footnote 230: Or parbreak, to vomit.]

    [Footnote 231: Suppose or think.]

    [Footnote 232: An oath, a corruption of _Jesus_.]


[17.] A poor Countrey Boy came up to _London_ to be an Apprentice to
a Cobler, and seeing the Lord Mayors show, and hearing that Sir _Simon
Eyre_ who formerly was Lord Mayor, had been apprentice to a Shoemaker;
one said to him, Is not this a brave show: I, says the Boy, _'tis this
we must all come to_.


[4.] A silly old fellow meeting his God son, ask'd whither he was
going? To School, said the Boy: That's well, said he, there's a Penny
for you; Be a good Boy, and mind your Book, and I hope I shall live to
hear thee Preach my Funeral Sermon.


[94.] It was said by one, that a Hangman had a contemplative
Profession, because he was never at work, but he was put in minde of
his own end.


[94.] Why do Ladies so affect slender wastes, said one? 'Tis (replied
another) because their Expences may not be too great.


[67.] John Hall, beeing in a sheete (of printing, or writing) called,
Knave, is said to have Carried it to y^e Vice Ch.(ancellor) Dr Gouch
to complaine, who beeing walking in his garden, and vexed that hee
would trouble him w^{th} such a frivolous matter, tare y^e sheete &
cast it abroad. John gathers up all ye pieces: y^e D^r demanded why?
Hee answered, I would bee loth to leave y^e Knave in your worship's
garden.


[94.] One commending a Taylor for his dexterity in his Profession;
another standing by, ratified his opinion, saying, _Taylors had their
business at their fingers ends_.



The Bad-Husbands Folly

or

Poverty made known.


  A Man may waste and spend away his store,
  But if misery comes he has no help therefore,
  This man that brought himself into decay,
  Shews other Good fellows that they go not astray.

To the Tune of _Come hither my own sweet Duck_.

  To all Good-Fellows now,      [120.]
    I mean to sing a Song,
  I have wrought my own decay,
    and have done myself great wrong:
  In following the Ale-house,
    I have spent away my store,
  _Bad Company did me undo,
    but i'le do so no more._

  That man that haunts the Ale house,
    and likewise the Drunken Crew,
  Is in danger to dye a Beggar,
    without any more ado;
  Would I might be an Example
    to all Good fellows sure;
          _Bad Company &c_

  I had a fair Estate of Land,
    was worth forty pound a year,
  I sold and Mortgaged all that,
    and spent it in strong Beer:
  My wife and friends could not rule me,
    until I did wax poor.
          _Bad Company &c_

[Illustration]

  I came unto my Hostis,
    and called for Liquor apace,
  She saw my money was plenty,
    and she smiled in my face:
  If I said fill a Flaggon,
    they set two upon the score,
          _Bad Company &c_

  I ranted night and day,
    and I let my Money flye,
  While my wife was almost dead with grief
    to hear her Children cry:
  For they were almost starv'd and pin'd
    they wanted food so sore.
          _Bad Company &c_

  At two a Clock i' th' morn
    I would come Drunken home,
  And if my wife spoke but a word,
    I'de kick her about the Room;
  And domineer and swear,
    and call her ---- and ----.
          _Bad Company &c_

  Then I fell sick upon the same,
    and lay three months and more,
  But never an Alewife in the Town,
    would come within my door:
  But my poor wife was my best friend,
    and stuck to me therefore.
          _Bad Company &c_

  My wife she sold her Petticoat,
    and pawn'd her Wedding Ring,
  To relieve me in my misery,
    in any kind of thing:
  O was not I a woful man,
    to waste and spend my store,
  _And let my wife & children want at home
    but I'le do so no more._

  When I began to mend a little,
    I walke to take the air,
  And as I went along the Town,
    I came by my Hostises door:
  I askt her for to trust me two-pence,
    she denyed me the more,
  _The Money that I have spent with her,
    but I'le do so no more._

  As soon as I get strength agen
    i'le fall to work apace,
  To maintain my wife and children,
    for my Hostises are base:
  I see who is a mans best friend,
    if he be sick or poor.
          _Bad Company &c_

  And when I do get money agen,
    I'le learn for to be wise,
  And not believe that Drunken Crew,
    that filled my ears with lyes:
  And carry it home unto my wife
    and of my Children take more care.
          _Bad Company &c_

  He runs a very long Race
    that never turns again;
  And brings himself unto disgrace,
    and has poverty for his pain;
  But now I will be careful sure,
    and forgo the Ale-house door.
          _Bad Company &c_

  Now to conclude and make an end
    what I have put in Rhime,
  That all Good-fellows they may se
    to mend their lives in time:
  And learn for to be Thrifty,
    to save something by in store.
          _Bad Company &c._

Printed for I. Deacon, at the Angel in Guilt Spur street, without
Newgate.


[110.] There dwelled not farre from Maister _Hobson_, two very ancient
women, the youngest of them both was above three score yeares of
age, and uppon a time sitting at the taverne together, they grew at
varience which of them should be the youngest (as women, indeede,
desier to be accompted younger than they be) in such manner that they
layd a good supper, of the valew of twenty shillings, for the truth
thereof, and Maister _Hobson_ they agreed upon to be their Judge of
the difference. So after Maister _Hobson_ had knowledge thereof, the
one came to him, and as a present gave him a very faire pidgion pye,
worth some five shillings, desiering him to passe the vardet[F. 233]
of her side; within a while after, the other came, and gave Maister
_Hobson_ a very faire grayhound, which kind of dogges he much
delighted in: praying him likewise to be favorable on her side,
wherefore hee gave judgment that the woman that gave him the grayhound
was the yonger, and so she wonn the supper of twenty shillings, Which
she perceiving, came to him and sayd, Sir, I gave you a pidgion pie,
and you promised the verdit should goe on my side. To whome Maister
_Hobson_ said, of a truth, good woman, there came a grayhound into
my house, and eate up the pidgion pye, and so by that meanes I quite
forgot thee.

    [Footnote 233: Verdict.]


[103.] A Soldier Quartering in Cambridge, often observ'd a Young
Country Wench that Sold Piggs a Market Days, whereupon he went to her,
and desir'd to see some of her Pigs, she having several, he said, he
would have one alive, so she shewed him one that she had in a Bag.
Well, Sweet heart, said he, I live hard by, I will go and shew the Pig
to my Captain; if he like it, you shall have three shillings for it,
but in the mean time I will leave the Money with you; thus having got
the Pig tied up in the Bag, he went to his Lodging, and put in a Dog
in the Bag instead of it, and returning quickly to the Damsel, said
his Captain did not like the Pig, and therefore she took the Bag
without looking into it, and gave him his Money again. Not long after
came a French man in haste to buy a Pig, and he not liking those that
were dead, would have a live One; Sir, said she, I have one of the
same bigness alive, the Price of it is three Shillings, I will not
sell it a Farthing Cheaper; well, said he, if you will not, here is
your Money, but how shall I carry it? Why, for a Groat you shall have
the Poke and all. Poke, what is dat? said Monsieur. 'Tis a Bag. Is dat
de Poke? well here's a Groat. Thus away he goes with his Bargain home,
but when he comes to look in the Poke, he see the Dog, O de diable,
(said he) is dis de Pig? de Dible take me, if I do buy Pig in de Poke
agen.


_The Brewer._[F. 234]

  Of all the trades that ever I see,    [121.]
  Theres none to the Brewer compared may be;
  For so many several wayes works he,
      _Which nobody can deny_.

  A Brewer may put on a noble face,
  And come to the wars with such a grace,
  That he may obtain a Captains place;
      _Which nobody can deny_.

  A Brewer may speak so learnedly well,
  And raise such stories for to tell,
  That he may be come a Colonel;
      _Which &c_

  A Brewer may be a Parliament man,
  For so his knavery first began,
  And work the most cunning plots he can;
      _Which &c_

  A Brewer may be so bold a Hector,
  That when he has drunk a cup of Nectar
  He may become a Lord Protector;
      _Which &c_

  A Brewer may do all these things, you see,
  Without controul, nay he may be
  Lord Chancellor of the University:
      _Which &c_

  A Brewer may sit like a Fox in his cub,
  And preach a Lecture out of a tub,
  And give the world a wicked rub;
      _Which &c_

  But here remaines the strangest thing,
  How he about his plots did bring,
  That he should be Emperour above a King;
      _Which no body can deny, deny;
      Which no body dares deny._

    [Footnote 234: A satire on Oliver Cromwell.]


[17.] Two Gentlemen riding from _Shipton_ to _Burford_ together, and
seeing the Miller of _Burford_ riding softly before on his sacks,
resolved to abuse him; so one went on one side of him, and t'other on
the other, saying Miller, now tell us, which art thou, more Knave or
Fool? Truly, says he, I know not which I am most but I think _I am
between both_.


[105.] On a time as _Scogin_ was riding to the Abbot of Bury, hee
asked of a Cowheard how far it was to Bury. The Cowheard said twenty
miles. May I, said _Scogin_, ride thither to night: yea, said the
Cowheard, if you ride not too fast, and also if you ride not a good
pace, you will be wet ere you come halfe waye there. As _Scogin_ was
riding on his way, he did see a cloud arise that was blacke, and being
afraid to be wet, he spurred his horse and did ride a great pace, and
riding so fast, his horse stumbled and strained his leg, and might not
goe. _Scogin_ revolving in his mind the Cowheards words, did set
up his horse at a poore mans house, and returned to the Cowheard,
supposing that he had beene a good Astronomer, because hee said, if
you ride not too fast, you may be at Bury tonight, and alsoe if you
doe not ride fast you shal be wet ere you come there. _Scogin_ said
to the Cowheard, what shall I give thee to tell mee, when I shall have
raine or faire weather? There goeth a bargain, said the Cowheard:
what wilt thou give me? _Scogin_ said, Twenty shillings. Nay, said
the Cowheard, for forty Shillings I will tell you and teach you, but I
will be paid first. Hold the money, said _Scogin_. The Cowheard said,
Sir, doe you see yonder Cow with the cut tail? Yea, said _Scogin_.
Sir, said the Cowheard, when that she doth begin to set up her rumpe,
and draw to a hedge or bush, within an houre after we shall have
raine: therefore take the Cow with you, and keepe her as I doe, and
you shall ever be sure to know when you shall have faire weather or
foule. Nay, said _Scogin_ keepe thy Cow still, and give me twenty
shillings of my mony. That is of my gentlenes saith the Cowheard,
howbeit you seeme to bee an honest man, there is twenty Shillings.



JOAN'S Ale is New;[F. 235] OR:

A new merry Medley, shewing the power, the strength, the operation,
and the vertue that remains in good Ale, which is accounted the
Mother-drink of _England_.

  All you that do this merry Ditty view,
  Taste of _Joan's_ Ale, for it is strong and new.


To a pleasant New Northern Tune.

[Illustration]

  There was a jovial Tinker,    [122.]
  Which was a good Ale Drinker,
  He never was a shrinker,
    believe me this is true.
  And he came from the wild[F. 236] of Kent,
  When all his money was gone and spent,
  Which made him like a Jack a Lent.
      _And Jones Ale is new,
      And Jones Ale is new Boys,
      And Jones Ale is new._

  The Tinker he did settle,
  Most like a man of Mettle,
  And vow'd to pawn his Kettle,
    now mark what did ensue.
  His Neibors they flockt in apace,
  To see Tom Tinker's comely face,
  Where they drank soundly for a space,
      _Whilst Jones Ale &c_

  The Cobler and the Broom-man,
  Came next into the room man,
  And said they would drink for boon man
    let each one take his due.
  But when good liquor they found,
  They cast their caps upon the ground
  And to the Tinker they drank round;
      _Whilst Jones Ale &c_

  The Rag man he being weary,
  With the bundle he did carry,
  He swore he would be merry,
    and spend a shilling or two.
  And he told his Hostis to her face,
  The Chimney Corner was his place
  And he began (to) drink apace.
      _And Jones Ale &c_

  The Pedler he grew nigher,
  For it was his desire,
  To throw the Rags i'th' fire,
    and burn the bundle blew.
  So whilst they drank whole flashes,
  And threw about the Glasses,
  The rags were burnt to ashes,
      _And Jones Ale &c_

  And then came in a Hatter,
  To see what was the matter,
  He scorned to drink cold water,
    amongst that Jovial crew.
  And like a man of courage stout,
  He took the quart-pot by the snout,
  And never left till all was out,
      _O Jones Ale &c_

  The Taylor being nimble
  With Bodkin, Shears, and Thimble,
  He did no whit dessemble,
      I think his name was _True_
  He said that he was like to choak,
  And called so fast for lap and smoak,
  Until he had pawned his Vinegar Cloake,
      _For Jones Ale &c_

  Then came a pittiful Porter,
  Which often did resort there,
  Quoth he i'le shew some sport here,
      amongst this jovial crew.
  The Porter he had very bad luck,
  Before that it was ten o'clock,
  The fool got drunk and lost his frock,
      _For Jones Ale &c._

  The bony brave Shoomaker,
  A brave Tobacco taker,
  He scorned to be a Quaker
    I think his name was _Hugh_.
  He called for liquor in so fast,
  Till he forgot his Awl and Last,
  And up the reckonings he did cast,
      _Whilst Jones Ale &c_

  And then came in the Weaver,
  You never saw a braver,
  With a Silk-man, and a Glover,
      _Tom Tinker_ for to view
  And so to welcome him to Town,
  They every man spent half a crown,
  And so the drink went merrily down,
      _For Jones Ale &c_

  Then came a drunken _Dutchman_,
  And he would have a touch, man,
  But he soon took too much, man,
    which made them after rue.
  He drank so long as I suppose,
  Till greasie drops fell from his nose,
  And like a beast befoul'd his hose,
      _Whilst Jones Ale &c_

  A Welshman he came next, Sir,
  With joy and sorrow mixt Sir,
  Who being partly vext Sir,
      he out his dagger drew.
  Cuts-plutter-a-nails, quoth _Taffie_ then,
  A Welshman is a Shentleman
  Come Hostis fill's the other Can,
      _For Jones Ale &c._

  Thus like to men of courage stout,
  Courageously they drank about,
  Till such time all the ale was out,
      as I may say to you.
  And when the business was done,
  They every man departed home,
  And promised Jone again to come,
      when she had brew'd anew.

FINIS.

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, J. Clarke, W. Thackeray and
T. Passinger.

    [Footnote 235: For tune, see Appendix.]

    [Footnote 236: Weald.]


[17.] A Shoomaker thought to mock a Collier being black, saying, What
news from Hell? how fares the Devil? Faith, says the Collier, he
was just riding forth as I came thither, and wanted nothing _but a
Shoomaker to pluck on his boots_.


[123.][Illustration: THE SCOTS HOLDING THEIR YOVNG KINGES NOSE TO Y^E
GRINSTO^{NE}

  _Come to the Grinstone Charles tis now to late
  To Recolect, tis presbiterian fate
  You Couinant pretenders must I bee
  The subiect of youer Tradgie Comedie._

Jockie

"Stoope Charles."]

The date of this curious political caricature is 14th July 1651.
It must be remembered that Charles II. was crowned at Scone on 1st
January 1651, and this satire deals with the behaviour of the Scots
towards their young monarch. It is too long to give _in extenso_,
but the following will give a fair idea of its tenor. Above the
illustration are printed these lines:--

  _Jockey._     "I. Jockey turne the stone of all your plots,
                For none turns faster than the turne-coat Scots

  _Presbytor._  We for our ends did make thee King, be sure
                Not to rule us, we will not that endure.

  _King._       You deep dissemblers, I know what you doe,
                And for revenges sake, I will dissemble too."

On either side of the print is a long poem, of which I will only give
the commencement:--

  "This Embleme needs no learned Exposition,
  The World knows well enough the sad condition
  Of Regall Power, and Prerogative
  Dead, and dethron'd in _England_, now alive
  In _Scotland_, where they seem to love the Lad,
  If hee'l be more obsequious than his Dad.
  And Act according to Kirk Principles,
  More subtile than were Delphick Oracles.
  For let him lye, dissemble, kill and slay,
  Hee's a good Prince that will the Kirk obey," etc. etc.


[110.] Upon a new yeares day Maister _Hobson_ sitting at dinner in a
Poets Company, or one, as you may tearme him, a writer of histories,
there came a poore man and presented him a cople of orringes, which
hee kindly tooke as a new yeares guift, and gave the poore man for the
same, an angell of goold, and there upon gave it to his wife to lay it
up among his other jewels, considering that it had likewise cost him
an Angel, the which she did. The Poet sitting by, and marking the
bounty of Ma. _Hobson_ for so small a matter, he went home, and
devised a booke contayning forty sheets of paper, which was halfe
a yeare in writing, and came and gave it to Maister _Hobson_ in
dedication, and thought in his mind, that he, in recompencing the
poore man so much for an orringe, would yeeld far more recompence for
his booke, being so long in studying. Maister _Hobson_ tooke the Poets
booke thankfully, and perseving he did it onely for his bounty shewed
for the orringe given him: willed his wife to fetch the said orringe,
which he gave to the Poet, being then almost rotten, saying, here is
a jewel which cost me a thousand times the worth in gould, therefore
I think thou art well satisfied for thy bookes dedication: the poet
seeing this, went his way all a shamed.


[26.] A deaf Man was selling Pears at the Towns end in _S^t Gileses_,
and a Gentleman riding out o' th' Town, askt him what 'twas a Clock?
He said Ten a Penny, Master: Then he askt him agen what 'twas a Clock?
He told 'em indeed he could afford no more. You Rogue, says he, I'll
kick you about the streets. Then says the man, _Sir, if you won't,
another will_.


[4.] A woman coming to a Parson, desir'd him to preach a Funeral
Sermon on her Son that was lately dead; the Parson promised her to do
it; but she desiring to know the Price of his Sermon; he told her it
was Twenty Shillings. Twenty Shillings! says she, An Ass spoke for an
Angel, and won't you speak under Twenty Shillings? The Parson being
a little netled at her, told her she was better fed than taught. Sir,
says she, 'tis very true; for my Husband feeds me, and You teach me.


[93.] _George_ (_Peele_) was at Bristow, and there staying somewhat
longer than his coyne would last him, his Palfrey that should bee his
Carrier to London, his head was growne so big, that he could not
get him out of the stable; it so fortuned at that instant, certaine
Players came to the Towne, and lay at that Inne where _George Peele_
was: to whom _George_ was well knowne, being in that time an excellent
Poet, and had acquaintance of most of the best Players in England;
from the triviall sort hee was but so so; of which these were, only
knew _George_ by name, no otherwise. There was not past three of the
Companie come with the Carriage, the rest were behinde, by reason of
a long Journey they had; so that night they could not enact; which
_George_ hearing, had presently a Stratageme in his head, to get his
Horse free out of the stable, and Money in his Purse to beare his
charges up to London. And thus it was: Hee goes directly to the Maior,
tels him he was a Scholler and a Gentleman, and that he had a certaine
Historie of the Knight of the Rodes; and withall, how Bristow was
first founded, and by whom, and a briefe[F. 237] of all those that
before him had succeeded in Office in that worshipfull Citie: desiring
the Maior, that he, with his presence, and the rest of his Brethren,
would grace his labors. The Maior agreed to it, gave him leave, and
withall appointed him a place: but for himselfe, hee could not be
there, being in the evening: but bade him make the best benefit he
could of the Citie; and very liberally gave him an Angell, which
_George_ thankfully receives, and about his businesse he goes, got
his Stage made, his Historey cryed, and hyred the Players Apparell,
to furnish out his Shew, promising to pay them liberally; and withall
desired them they would favour him so much, as to gather him his money
at the doore; (for hee thought it his best course to imploy them, lest
they should spie out his knaverie; for they have perillous heads.)
They willingly yeeld to doe him any kindnes that lyes in them; in
briefe, carry their apparell in the Hall, place themselves at the
doore, where _George_ in the meane time, with the tenne shillings he
had of the Maior, delivered his Horse out of Purgatorie, and carries
him to the Townes end, and there placeth him, to be ready at his
comming. By this time the Audience were come, and some forty shillings
gathered, which money _George_ put in his purse, and putting on one of
the Players Silke Robes, after the trumpet had sounded thrice, out he
comes, makes low obeysance, goes forward with his Prologue, which was
thus:

  A trifling Toy, a Jest of no account, pardie.
  The Knight, perhaps, you think for to bee I:
  Think on so still; for why, you know that thought is free,
  Sit still a while, I'le send the Actors to ye.

Which being said, after some fire workes that hee had made of purpose,
threw out among them, and downe stayres goes he, gets to his Horse,
and so with fortie shillings to London; leaves the Players to answer
it; who when the Jest was knowne, their innocence excused them, beeing
as well gulled as the Maior and the Audience.

    [Footnote 237: A list or catalogue.]


[82.] There was a faire ship of two hundred tuns lying at the Tower
Wharfe at _London_, where a Countryman passing by, most earnestly
looked on the said ship, and demanded how old shee was. One made
answer that she was a yeare old. Good Lord blesse me, said the
Countryman, is shee so big growne in one yeere, what a greatnesse will
shee bee by the time she comes to my age?


[82.] Twelve Schollers riding together, one of them said, my masters,
let us ride faster. Why? quoth another, methinks wee ride a good pace,
I'le warrant it is foure mile an hour. Alas, said the first, what is
foure mile an houre amongst us all?


[17.] A patient man coming home from work, but it seems did not bring
home to his Shrewish Wife so much money as she expected; with that
she flew about his ears, and did so jole him! Good wife, says he,
be quiet, for I would willingly wear my bands without cuffs, if you
please.


[105.] On a night _Scogin_ and his chamber-fellow, and two or three
of the Bishops servants being merrily disposed, consult how they might
have good cheere and pay no money, and every one invented a way as
they thought best. At last _Scogin_ said, I have invented a cleanly
shift. At the signe of the Crowne against Peter's Church, is a new
Tapster, which ere this hath not seene any of us, and he is also
purblind, so that if he see us hereafter, he cannot know us. Therefore
wee will goe thither and make good cheere, and when we have a
reckoning, we will contend who shall pay all; then will I say to avoid
the contention, that the Tapster shall be blinded, and we wil run
round about him, and whosoever he catcheth first, let him pay for all,
and so we may escape away. Every man liked _Scogin's_ device best, so
in conclusion they came thither, and had good cheere, for they spared
no cost: so that in the end their reckoning drew to ten Shillings.
Then as _Scogin_ had devised afore, they did. The Tapster was blinded,
so they ran round about him, and first _Scogin_ got out, and then
another, so that at last they got all away, and left the tapster
groping in every place about the house for him that should pay the
shot. The master of the house being in a chamber next to the place
where they were, and hearing the stamping that they made, came in to
see what they did, whom the Tapster caught in his armes, saying, Sir,
you must pay the reckoning. Marry, said his Master, so I thinke I must
indeed, for here is no body else to pay it. Then the Tapster and his
Master sought and enquired for _Scogin_ and the rest, but they could
neither find them, nor heare newes of them.


[94.] Hangmen practice their cunning for the most part upon good
natur'd men, because they are ready to forgive, before the hurt be
attempted.


[4.] A Parson who had not much Wit to spare, seeing his Son play
roguish Tricks, Why, Sirrah, said he, did you ever see me do so, when
I was a Boy, as you are?


[4.] A Precise Fellow hearing much swearing in a Bowling Green, said,
For Shame Gentlemen, forbear, it is God's great mercy the Bowling
Green doth not fall on your Heads.



=Nick and Froth;=

or

The Good-fellows Complaint for want of full Measure.

    Discovering the Deceits, and Abuses of Victuallers, Tapsters,
    Ale Drapers; and all the rest of the Society of Drunkard
    Makers, by filling their drink in false Flaggons, Pimping
    Tankerds, Cans call'd Ticklers; Rabbits, Jugs, and short
    Quarterns, To the Grand Abuse of the Society of Good
    Fellowship.

  _Good Fellows Drinks their Liquor without flinching;
  Then why should knavish Tapsters use such pinching._


Tune of, We'l Drink this Old Ale no more, no more.


  All you y^t are Free-men of Ale-Drapers Hall,    [124.]
  And Tapsters wherever you be,
  Be sure you be ready to come at my call,
  And your Knavery here you shall see.

  A Knot of Good-fellows we are here inclin'd,
  To Challenge you out if you dare,
  A very sharp Tryal you're like to find,
  Although it be at your own Bar.

  Your Cheats and Abuses we long did abide,
  But times are so wondrous hard,
  That Loosers may speak, it cannot be deny'd,
  Of our Measure we have been debar'd.

  But now we'l show you a trick (you knaves)
  And lay you open to view,
  It's all for your Froth and your Nick (you slaves)
  And tell you no more than is true.

[Illustration]

  If in a cold Morning we chance to come,
  And bid a Good Morrow, my Host,
  And call for some Ale, you will bring us black Pots
  Yet scarce will afford us a Toast.

  For those y^t drink Beer, 'tis true as i'me here,
  Your Counterfeit Flaggons you have,
  Which holds not a Quart, scarce by a third part,
  And y^t makes my Hostis go brave.

  But now Pimping Tankerds are all in use,
  Which drains a Man's Pocket in brief,
  For he that sits close, and takes off his Dose,
  Will find that the Tankerd's a Thief.

  Bee't Tankerd or Flaggon, which of them you brag on,
  We'l trust you to Nick and to Froth,
  Before we can Drink, be sure it will shrink,
  Far worser than _North_ Country Cloth.

  When Summer is coming, then hey, brave boys,
  The tickling Cans they run round,
  Pray tak't in good part, for a _Winchester_ Quart[F. 238]
  Will fill six, I dare lay you a Pound.

  Your Rabbits and Jugs, and Coffee House Mugs,
  Are ready whene're you do call,
  A P-- take his Trade, such Measure that's made,
  I wish that old Nick had them all.

  When we have a Fancy our Noses to Steel,
  And call for some _Nance_[F. 239] of the best,
  Be sure the short Pot must fall to our lot,
  For now they are all in request.

  Scarce one house in twenty, where measure is plenty,
  But still they are all for the Pinch;
  Thus, every day they drive Custom away,
  And force us good-Fellows to flinch,

  Sometimes a Man may leave something to pay,
  Though seldom he did it before;
  With _Marlborough_ Cholke you his patience provoke,
  Whenever he clears off his score.

  The women likewise which are not precise,
  But will take a Cup of the best,
  Tho they drink for pleasure, they'l have their measure
  Or else you shall have little rest.

  There's _Billings-gate_ Nan, all her whole gang,
  Complaining for want of their due;
  True Topers they are, as e're scor'd at Bar,
  For they'l drink till their Noses look blew.

  A Pot and a Toast will make them to boast,
  Of things that are out of their reach;
  So long as a Groat remains in the Coat,
  They over good Liquor will preach.

  In _Shoo Makers Row_ there's true hearts you know,
  But give them their Measure and weight,
  They'l scorn for to stir but stick like a Bur,
  And Tope it from Morning till Night.

  Then there's honest _Smug_ y^t with a full jug
  Will set all his Brains in a float;
  But you are such Sots as to fill him small Pots,
  Will scarce quench y^t spark in his Throat.

  With many such Blades, of several Trades,
  Which freely their Money will spend;
  But fill them good drink, they value not chink
  Wherever they meet with a friend.

  Most Trades in y^e Nation gives their approbation,
  How that you are much for to blame;
  Then make no excuses, but cease your abuses,
  And fill up your Measure for shame.

FINIS.

    [Footnote 238: A Winchester quart holds nearly half a gallon.]

    [Footnote 239: Nantz brandy.]


_A Preachment on Malt._

[26.] Certain Townsmen of _Prisal_, returning from a merry Meeting at
a certain Ale-House, met in the fields a Preacher, who had lately made
a bitter sermon against Drunkards, and among other opprobrious words,
called them Malt worms. Wherefore they agreed to take him, and by
violence compel him to preach a Sermon, and his text should be MALT.
The Preacher, thinking it better to yield, than contend with them in
their cause, began his Sermon as followeth.

There is no preaching without Division, and this Text cannot well be
divided into many parts, because it is but one word, nor into many
Syllables, because it is but one Syllable. It must therefore be
divided into Letters, and they are found to be four, _viz_ M. A. L. T.
These letters represent four interpretations, which Divines commonly
do use thus. M. Moral, A. Allegorical, L. Literal, T. Tropological.

The Moral Interpretation is well put first, and first to teach
you boysterious Men some good manners, at least, in procuring your
attention to the Sermon; Therefore M. Masters. A. All. L. Listen T. To
the Text.

An Allegory is when one thing is spoken of and another thing meant;
The thing spoken of is Malt, the thing meant is the Oyle of Malt,
commonly call'd Ale, which to you Drunkards is so precious, that you
account it to be M. Meat. A. Ale. L. Liberty. T. Treasure.

The Literal sense is as it hath been often heard of heretofore, so
it is true according to the letters. M. Much. A. Ale. L. Little. T.
Thrift.

The Tropological sence applyeth that which is now to somewhat
following, either in this world, or in the world to come; the thing
that now is, is the effect which Oyl of Malt produceth and worketh in
some of you, _viz_ M. Murther; in others A. Adultery; in all L. Loose
living: in many T. Treason, and that which hereafter followeth in
this world, and in the world to come is M. Misery. A. Anguish. L.
Lamentation. T. Trouble.

I shall now come to a Conclusion, and withal, to perswade you
boysterious men to amend, that so you may escape the danger whereinto
many of you are like to fall, but I have no hopes to prevail, because
I plainly see, and my Text as plainly telleth me, it is M. to A. that
is a Thousand Pound to a Pot of Ale you will never mend; because
all Drunkards are L. Lewd. T. Thieves; but yet for discharging my
Conscience and Duty, First towards God, and Secondly towards you my
Neighbours, I say once again, concluding with my Text, M. Mend A. All;
and L. Leave, T. Tippling: otherwise M. Masters, A. All, L. Look for
T. Terrour and Torment.

By this time the Ale wrought in the Townsmens Brains that then were
between Hawk and Buzzard,[F. 240] nearer sleeping than waking, which
the Preacher perceiving, stole away, leaving them to take their nap.

[Footnote 240: In a _doubtful_ condition.]


[82.] An Apprentice in the market, did aske the price of an hundred
Oysters; his friend perswaded him not to buy them, for they were too
small. Too small, reply'd the Prentice, there is not much losse in
that, for I shall have the more to the hundred.


[110.] Maister _Hobson_ being still very good to poore and most
bountyfull to aged people, there came to him usually twice or thrice a
weeke, a silly poore ould blinde man to sing under his window, for the
which he continually gave him twelve pence a time. Maister _Hobson_
having one of his servants so chorlish and withall so covitous that he
would suffer the blind man to come no more, unles he shared halfe his
benefit: the which the blind singing man was forst to give, rather
than loose all: after twice or thrice parting shares, Maister _Hobson_
had thereof intelligence, who consulting with the blind man, served
his servant in this maner; still he looked for halfe whatsoever
he got, so this at last was Maister _Hobsons_ guift, who gave
commaundement that the blind man should have for his singing three
score Jeerkes with a good whippe, and so to be equally parted as the
other guifts were, the which were presently given: the blinde mans
were but easie, but Master _Hobsons_ mans were very sound ones, so
that every Jerke drewe blood; after this he never sought to deminish
his masters bounty.


[4.] Some Gentlemen coming into a Tavern, whose Sign was the _Moon_,
(where for a Fancy they sold nothing but Claret, for which they
were very noted, and had great Custom) called for a bottle of Sack;
whereupon the Drawer told them they had none: At which, they, not a
little admiring,[F. 241] as not knowing the Humour, asked the Drawer
the reason, who told them, _The Man in the Moon drinks Claret_.[F. 242]
The Fancy of which pleased them so that they said they were resolved to
be sociable, and so called for each Man his Bottle to drink their
Brothers Health in the Moon.

    [Footnote 241: Wondering.]

    [Footnote 242: There was a roystering drinking song with that
    title, which is not very scarce; there is one in the Roxburghe
    Ballads. (C. 20, f. 7)/298.

      "Our man in the moon drinks Clarret,
      With powder-beef, turnep, and carret;
      If he doth so, why should not you
      Drink until the sky looks blew?"
    ]


[93.] _George_ (_Peele_) once had invited halfe a score of his friends
to a great Supper, where they were passing merry, no cheere wanting,
wine enough, musicke playing: the night growing on, & being upon
departure, they call for a reckoning. _George_ swears there is not a
penny for them to pay. They, being men of good fashion, by no meanes
would yeeld unto it, but every man throwes downe his money, some tenne
shillings, some five, some more: protesting something they will pay.
Well, quoth _George_, taking up all the money; seeing you will be so
wilfull you shall see what shall follow: he commands the musicke to
play, and while they were skipping and dancing, _George_ gets his
Cloake, sends up two Pottles of Hypocrist, and leaves them and the
reckoning to pay. They wondring at the stay of _George_, meant to be
gone: but they were staide by the way, and before they went, forced to
pay the reckoning anew.


[26.] A Vintner being broke, was, it seems, forc'd to set up an Ale
house in the Suburbs, and being askt, why he did discredit himself so
much, to leave off Wine, to sell Beer and Ale? He told him the chief
reason was because he lov'd a Countryman better than a stranger;
for Beer and Ale are my Countrymen, but Wine's a Stranger: but the
Gentleman told him he did not well, for he must make much of any
Stranger that comes within his gates: So will I that, says he, when I
get it within my gates agen; I'll make more of it than I did; nay much
more, because I would not break the Command.


[105.] On a time the Bishop would feast divers French Lords, and hee
gave unto _Peter Achadus_ (_Scogins_ chamber fellow) twenty French
Crownes to bestow at the Poulters, in Feasant, Partridge, Plover,
Quaile, Woodcock, Larke, and such other: and because _Scogins_ chamber
fellow had great business to do, he wrote all such things as he would
have bought in a bill, and desired _Scogin_ to bestow the money, who
was well contented. When _Scogin_ had this money, he imagined in his
mind how hee might deceive some Poulter, and so to have the money to
himselfe. At last hee came to a Poulter in _Paris_, and said, sir, it
is so that my Master the Abbot of _Spilding_ doth feast a great many
of his friends, and I must have so many of every sort of your wares as
is mentioned in this bill, therefore I pray you lay them out quickly,
and let the Bill be prised reasonably, and to morrow in the morning
I will fetch them, and you shall have your money. The wares were laid
out and prized, and the sum came to sixe pound and odde money, then on
the morrow _Scogin_ did come to the Poulter, and asked if everything
were ready. Yea, said the Poulter, and here is your bill reasonably
prized. Then said _Scogin_, let somebody goe with me for to receive
your money: the Poulter said, my wife shal goe with you. _Scogin_
went to _St. Peter's_ Church, where there was a Priest that had on his
Albe, and was ready to goe to Masse: _Scogin_ went to the Priest, and
said, Master, here is a woman that will not bee perswaded that her
Husband ought to be her Head, and I have brought her to you, to the
intent you should perswade her. The Priest said he would doe what he
could. I thanke you, said _Scogin_. Then _Scogin_ came to the woman,
and said, if you will have your money, come to my Master, and hear
what he doth say. Then _Scogin_ came to the Priest, and said Master,
here is the woman, will you dispatch her after Masse is done? Yea,
said the Priest. Then said _Scogin_ to the woman, you heare what my
master doth say, therefore I pray you send me by some token, whereby
I may receive the wares. The woman sent him by a true token, and then
_Scogin_ did hire two porters, and did fetch away all the wares from
the Poulters house, and did carry it to his chamber: when masse was
done, the Priest called the Poulters wife unto him, and asked why she
would not acknowledge her husband to be her head? Why, said the woman,
I cannot tarry to reason of such matters, therefore I pray you to pay
me my money, that I were gone: Wherefore? said the Priest. The woman
said, for wares that your man hath received. What man? said the
Priest. He that spake to you when you went to masse. The Priest
said, he is none of my man, and he said to me, that you would not bee
perswaded that your husband ought to be your head. What, master Abbot,
said the woman, you shal not mock me so, I must have 6 pound & 8
shillings of you for wares that your man hath received, for you
promised to pay me when you went to masse. I am no Abbot, said the
Priest, nor none of my men never received anything of you, nor I
promised nothing when I went to masse, but that I would perswade you
to obey your Husband, who ought to be your head, and so the Priest
went his way. The woman perceiving that shee was deceived, went home
to see if _Scogin_ had received the ware, and he had received them,
and was gone an houre before. Then both she and her husband sought for
Scogin, but they could not find him.


[17.] A Citizen having married a Cockney, and he taking her with him
into the Country, to see his Friends, as they were riding spyed a
Willow tree on which abundance of Wants or Moles were hung: O dear,
says she, Husband, look what a fine Tree here is; I never knew how
they grew till now; for it is a Black Pudding tree.


[82.] A man was very angry with his maid, because his eggs were boyled
too hard; truly, said she, I have made them boyle a long houre, but
the next you have, shall boyle two houres but they shall be tender
enough.


[26.] A Man in a bitter cold Winter night was passing through the
Street, and seeing all a Bed, and no Candle in any Window neither;
then bethought himself of this project; for then he went up and down
crying Fire, Fire, which made several come to the Windows: They askt
him where? where? He told them that he did not know, for if he did, he
would go to't to warm himself; For, says he, I am devilish cold.



The Country-mans new care away.


To the Tune of, _Love will find out the way_.


[Illustration]


  If there were imployments      [125.]
    for men, as have beene,
  And Drummes, Pikes and Muskets
    in th' field to be seene,
  And every worthy Souldier
    had truely their pay,
  Then might they be bolder
    to sing, Care away.

  If there were no Rooking,
    but plaine dealing used,
  If honest Religion
    were no wayes abused,
  If pride in the Country
    did not beare sway,
  The Poore and the Gentry
    might sing, Care away.

  If Farmers consider'd
    the dearenesse of graine,
  How honest poore Tradesmen
    their charge should maintaine,
  And would bate the price on't
    to sing, Care away
  We should not be nice on't
    of what we did pay.

  If poore Tenants, Landlords
    would not racke their rents,
  Which oft is the cause of
    their great discontents,
  If, againe, good house-keeping
    in th' Land did beare sway,
  The poore that sits weeping
    might sing, Care away.

  If Spendthrifts were carefull
    and would leave their follies,
  Ebriety hating
    Cards, Dice, Bowling-Alleyes,
  Or with wantons to dally
    by night or by day,
  Their wives might be merry,
    and sing, Care away.

  If Children to Parents
    would dutifull be,
  If Servants with Masters
    would deale faithfully,
  If Gallants poore Tradesmen
    would honestly pay,
  Then might they have Comfort
    to sing, Care away.

  There is no contentment
    to a conscience that's cleare,
  That man is most wretched
    a bad mind doth beare,
  To wrong his poore Neighbour
    by night or by day,
  He wants the true comfort
    to sing, Care away.

  But he that is ready
    by goodnesse to labour,
  In what he is able
    to helpe his poore Neighbour,
  The Lord will ever blesse him
    by night and by day,
  All ioyes shall possesse him
    to sing, Care away.

  Would wives with their husbands,
    and husbands with wives
  In love and true friendship
    would so lead their lives,
  As best might be pleasing
    to God night and day,
  Then they with hearts easing
    might sing, Care away.

  No crosse can be greater
    unto a good mind,
  Than a man to be matched
    with a woman unkind,
  Whose tongue is never quiet
    but scolds night and day,
  That man wants the comfort
    to sing, Care away.

  A Vertuous woman
    a husband that hath,
  That's given unto lewdnesse,
    to envy and wrath,
  Who after wicked women
    does hunt for his prey,
  That woman wants comfort
    to sing, Care away.

  Like true subiects loyall,
    to God let us pray,
  Our good king so Royall,
    to preserve night and day:
  With the Queen, Prince and Nobles,
    the Lord blesse them aye,
  Then may we have comfort
    to sing, Care away.


[82.] There was a lusty young Scholler preferred to a Benefice in the
Country, and commonly on Sundayes and holy dayes after evening prayer
hee would have a dozen bouts at cudgels with the sturdiest youths in
his parish: The Bishop of the Diocesse hearing of it, sent for the
parson, telling him this beseemed not his profession and gravity, and
if that he did not desist from that unmeet kind of exercise, hee
would unbenefice him. Good my Lord, (said the Parson) I beseech you
to conceive rightly of mee, and I doubt not but my playing at cudgels
will be counted tollerable; for I doe it of purpose to edifie the
ruder sort of my people. How so, said the Bishop. Marry, my Lord,
(quoth the Parson) whatsoever I do teach them at morning and evening
prayer, I doe beat soundly into their heads with cudgels afterward,
for their better remembrance.


[94.] He that buys a Horse in _Smithfield_, and does not look upon
him with a pair of Spectacles, before he buys him, makes his Horse and
himself a pair of sorrowful Spectacles for others to look at.


[110.] Upon a time Maister _Hobson_ lying in saint Albones, there came
certaine musitions to play at his chamber doore, to the intent as they
filled his eares with their musicke, he should fil their purses with
mony: whereupon he bad one of the servants of the Inne (that waited
upon him) to goe and tell them that hee could not then indure to
heare their musicke for he mourned for the death of his mother, so the
musitians disapoynted of their purpose went sadly all away. The fellow
heard him speake of mourning, asked him how long agoe it is since
he buried his mother; truely (quoth maister _Hobson_) it is now very
neare forty yeares agoe. The fellow understanding his subtilty, and
how wittily he sent away the musitians, laughed very hartely.


[52.] On a Winters evening a Country husband man went to fetch his
wives kine home to milk, and driving them into the back side, hee
forgot to shut the gate, and hee comes into the house, sits him down
by the fire side. The kine finding the gate open, ranne trotting and
lowing downe the durty lane, toward the field, and the mans daughter
looking forth at the doore and seeing them, cries out to her mother,
Faith my father is a fine man, I think the kine are gone to the
devill, shall I goe after them? No (quoth her mother) daughter, you
are too forward: Let your father goe, he's fitter, he has his hie
shoone on.


_A Song._

  Sir _Francis_, Sir _Francis_, Sir _Francis_ his Son,    [121.]
  Sir _Robert_ and eke Sir _William_ did come,
  And eke the good Earl of _Southampton_
  March't on his way most gallantly;
  And then the Queen began to speak,
  Youre welcome home Sir _Francis Drake_.
  Then came my Lord Chamberlain, and with his white staffe,
  And all the people began for to laugh.

  _The Queen's Speech._--

  Gallants all of British bloud,
  Why do ye not saile on th' Ocean flood?
  I protest ye'are not all worth a Philberd
  Compared with Sir Humphrey Gilberd.

  _The Queen's Reason._

  For he walkt forth in a rainy day,
  To the new-found Land he took his way,
  With many a gallant fresh and green;
  He never came home agen.[F. 243] God bless the Queen.

    [Footnote 243: Sir _Humphrey Gilbert_ was half-brother to Sir
    _Walter Raleigh_, and was a famous navigator of Elizabeth's
    reign. In 1583 he took possession of Newfoundland, but his
    ship foundered on the voyage home, 9th September 1584.]


[82.] A Justice of the Peace was very angry with a country yeoman,
because hee came not to him at his first sending for him; and after
he had bountifully bestowed two or three dozen of knaves upon him, hee
said to him, Sirrah, I will make you know that the proudest knave that
dwels under my command shall come before mee when I send for him. I
beseech your worship said the man, to pardon mee, for I was afraid:
afraid of what? said the Justice. Of your worship answered the fellow.
Of mee? said the Justice, why wast thou afraid of mee? Because
your worship lookes so like a Lyon, said the man. A Lyon? quoth the
Justice, when didst thou see a Lyon? May it please your worship
(the fellow replyde) I saw a Butcher bring one but yesterday to
_Colebrooke_ market, with a white face and his foure legs bound.

  This fellow was a knave, or foole, or both,
  Or else his wit was of but slender growth:
  He gave the white fac'd _Calfe_ the Lyons stile,
  The Justice was a proper man the while.


[4.] One that was Born in the Parish of S^t Giles Cripplegate said:
When I dye, I'll be Buried in Cripple Church Yard, an't please God I
live.


[26.] A Notable Fellow, that, as 'tis said would not be drunk above
seven days in the week; and when he was drunk was so besotted that he
knew not what he did. Once his Prentice was sent by his Wife to fetch
him home, and when he found him out, he found him reeling ripe also.
And as they came down _Ludgate Hill_, in a Moon-shiny night, saw the
reflection of the Bell-Savage sign post upon the ground, and it seems
took it for a Block, and went to lift his Leg over it, his Prentice
having him by the Arm for his supporter, askt what he meant by that?
Why, says he, to go over this Block. He told him 'twas not a Block.
What is it then? says he. 'Tis a Sign, says the Boy. What Sign, I
prithee? Why Master 'tis a Sign you are drunk.


[17.] One who was deep in debt, and forced to keep within all day for
fear of Serjeants and Bailiffs would yet at night adventure abroad
in some back Lanes and Alleys. Passing one night through the Butchers
Shambles, going in hast, one of the Tenter Hooks catcht hold of his
cloak. He thinking it had been a Serjeant which had thus shoulder
clapt him, looking back, said, _At whose Suit I pray you?_


[105.] When _Scogin_ should ride home againe, his bootes were nought,
and hee could not tell what shift to make. At last he devised what he
might doe: whereupon he sent his man for a shoo-maker to bring him a
paire of Bootes. The shoo-maker brought the bootes, and when hee had
pulled on the right foot boote, and was pulling on the other boot,
Scogin said, it was marvellous strait, and that it did pinch his leg:
wherefore hee prayed him to carry it home, and set it on the laste an
houre or two: for (quoth he) I have a thing to write that will hold
mee two houres, and all that time I will sit and write, & keepe this
other boote on my leg still untill that be ready. The shoomaker tooke
the boot and went home, as Scogin had bidden him. When the shoo maker
was gone, hee sent his man for another shoo maker, and caused one to
pull off the boot which the first shoo maker had pulled on. When the
other shoo maker was come, _Scogin_ caused him to pull on the left
boot, and when hee was pulling on the right foot boot, _Scogin_ found
fault with it, as he did with the first shoo maker, and sent him away
in like sort. When he was gone, hee caused his man to make ready their
horses, and hee pulled on the boot againe, which the first shoo maker
had left behinde him, and so he rode away with the two bootes of
two shoo makers: shortly after, the shoomakers came and enquired for
_Scogin_, but hee and his man were gone, almost an houre before.


[82.] Two Playsterers being at worke for mee at my house in
Southwarke, did many times patch and dawbe out part of their dayes
labour with prating, which I, being digging in my garden did over
heare that their chat was of their wives, and how that if I were able
(quoth one) my wife should ride in pompe through London, as I saw a
Countesse ride yesterday. Why, quoth the other, how did shee ride I
pray? Marry, said hee, in state, in her _Horslitter_. O base, quoth
the other, _Horslitter_: I protest as poore a man as I am, I would
have allowed my wife a three-peny trusse of cleane Straw.


[26.] _Henry Martin_ the great Rumper, for you know all Martins are
Birds, and he being so, flew so high before; but after the King's most
happy Restauration, was brought so low, as to kneel at the Bar of the
Lord's House; though 'tis thought he never came into the Lords House
before, unless it were to see a handsome Girl there. But at the Lords
Bar he was askt what he could say, that Judgment should not pass upon
him? My Lords, says he, I understood that the King's Proclamation
extended to favour of life, upon rendring myself, which I then did.
And, withal, my Lords, I do let you to know, and I do ingeniously
confess it, that I never obey'd any of his Majesty's Proclamations
before, but this; and I hope I shall not be hang'd for taking the
King's word now.


[94.] One sitting by the Fire to take Tobacco, said the Fire was his
friend, and presently spit into it: To which one replied, You do not
well to quench your friends love by spitting in his face.



THE JOVIALL CREW.[F. 244]

or

Beggars-Bush.

  In which a Mad Maunder doth vapour and swagger
  With praiseing the Trade of a bonney bold Beggar.


To the tune of, _From hunger and Cold_.


            A Beggar, a Beggar,    [126.]
            A Beggar I'le be,
  There's none leads a Life so jocond as hee;
            A Beggar I was,
            And a Beggar I am,
  A Beggar I'le be, from a Beggar I came:
  If (as it begins) our Trading do fall,
  I fear (at the last) we shall be Beggars all.
  _Our Tradesmen miscarry in all their affayrs
  And few men grow wealthy, but Courtiers and Players._

            A Craver my father,
            A Maunder my mother,
  A Filer my sister, a Filcher my brother,
            A Canter my Unckle,
            That cared not for Pelfe,
  A Lifter my aunt, a Beggar myselfe.
  In white wheaten straw, when their bellies were full,
  Then I was begot, between Tinker and Trul.
  _And therefore a Beggar, a Beggar I'le be,
  For none hath a spirit so jocond as he._

[Illustration]

            When Boyes do come to us,
            And that their intent is
  To follow our Calling, we nere bind them Prentice,
            Soon as they come too't,
            We teach them to doo't,
  And give them a Staff and a Wallet to boot.
  We teach them their Lingua, to Crave and to Cant,
  The devil is in them if then they can want.
  _If any are here that Beggars will bee,
  We without Indentures will make them free._

            We begg for our bread,
            But sometimes it happens
  We feast with Pigg, Pullet, Conny and Capons
            For Churche's affairs
            We are no Man-slayers
  We have no religion, yet live by our prayers.
  But if when we begg, Men will not draw their purses,
  We charge and give fire, with a volley of curses,
  _The Devil confound your good Worship we cry,
  And such a hold brazen fac'd Beggar am I._

_London._ Printed for _W. Thackeray_, _T. Passenger_, and _W.
Whitwood_.

    [Footnote 244: For tune, see Appendix.]


[82.] A Justice of the Peace committed a fellow to prison, and
commanded him away three or foure times, but stil the fellow intreated
him. Sirrah, (said the Justice) must I bid you bee gone so many times,
and will you not goe? The fellow answered, Sir, if your worship had
bidden mee to dinner or supper, I should in my poore manners not to
have taken your offer under two or three biddings; therefore I pray
you blame me not if I looke for foure biddings to prison.


[26.] King James being in his Progress at Woodstock in Oxfordshire,
the King, finding it to rain so one morning that he could not ride a
hunting, had got some Nobility and Gentry together, resolving to be
merry. And one humour was, that the King having that morning a fine
curvetting Horse given him, which kind of Horse he never lik'd in his
life, told them that he that could tell the greatest lie should have
that Horse. So one told one lie, and another, another: and several had
told others, that there was great laughing; and just in the midst of
this mirth in comes a Country Fellow, complaining to the King that
some of his Servants had wrong'd him: Well, well, says the King, we'll
hear you of that anon; come, come hither amongst us, and you must know
that he that can tell the greatest lie shall have that horse. Truly
Sir, says he, an't please your Grace, I never told a lie in all my
life. With that says the King, Give him the Horse, give him the Horse,
for I am sure that is the greatest lie that has been told to day.


[94.] A yong lascivious Gallant wanting money, could not with his
credit sell anything; yet his father being but lately dead, at length
was checkt by some of his friends for his loose and extravagant life,
and withal told him he had base and beastly Associates that did draw
him to ill houses. He, taking this opportunity, answered, Truly,
Friends, your Counsel is very good, I will presently go sell my Coach
and Horses.


[17.] One being desired to eat some Oysters, refused, saying they were
ungodly meat, unchristianly meat, uncharitable meat, and unprofitable
meat. And being demanded his reason why he said it, he answered, They
were ungodly meat, because they were eaten without saying of Grace;
unchristianly meat because the Creature was eaten alive; uncharitable
meat, because they left no offal to the poor, and unprofitable meat,
because most commonly there was more spent upon them than the Oysters
cost.


[110.] Maister _Hobson_, and another of his neighbours, on a time
walking to Southwarke faire, by chance drunke in a house which had
the signe of Sa. _Christopher_, of the which signe the good man of the
house gave this commendation; Saint _Christopher_ (quoth he) when hee
lived upon the earth bore the greatest burden that ever was, which was
this, he bore Christ over a river. Nay there was one (quoth maister
_Hobson_) that bore a greater burden; Who was that (quoth the in
keeper). Mary, quoth Maister _Hobson_, the asse that bore both him and
his mother: so was the Inne keeper called asse by Craft. After this,
talking merely together, the aforsaid Inne keeper being a little
whitled[F. 245] with drinke, & his head so giddy that he fell into the
fire, people standing by, ran sodainely and tooke him up; oh let him
alone (quoth Maist. _Hobson_) a man may doe what he will in his owne
house, and lie where so ever he listeth. The man having little hurt,
with this sight grew immediately sober, and, after, foxed Maister
_Hobson_ and his neighbour so mightely, that comming over London
bridge, being very late, ranne against one of the posts, which Maister
_Hobson_ thinking it to bee some man that had justled him, drew out
his dodgion[F. 246] dagger, and thrust it up into the very hilt into
the hollow post; whereupon verely hee had thought hee had kil'd some
man: so, running away, was taken by the watch, and so all the Jest was
discovered.

    [Footnote 245: Intoxicated.]

    [Footnote 246: A dudgeon dagger was one having a _boxwood_
    handle.]


[52.] A mad fellow newly married, had onely one young child by his
wife, of some quarter old, whom he dearly and tenderly loved, but
he was much given to good fellowship, and she altogether addicted to
sparing, & good huswifery: still he used to come merry home from the
taverne from his boone companions, to her great griefe, she being as
sparing of her purse, as prodigall of her tongue, for she was little
better than a Scold, would oft upbraid him with his expences of money,
and time, and to be so often drunke was prejudiciall both to his
estate and bodily health, and that it were far better to spend that at
home in his house than in a Taverne; with such Matron like speeches,
always concluding her exhortations with a vow that if ever he came
home again in the like pickle she would (happen what would come) fling
the Child into the Moat (for the house was moted round.) It happned
shortly after, that he revelling till late in a cold frosty Winter
evening, she having intelligence by her scouts where hee was, made
no doubt hee would come home flustred. She commands the Infant to bee
convaied to the farther part of the house, and to wrap the Cat in the
blankets, put it in the Cradle, and there sit and rocke it. Presently
comes her Husband, she fals to her old lesson of quarrelling with
him, and hee with her, ill words begot worse, much lewd language past
betwixt them. The woman suddenly steps to the Cradle (having spied her
advantage;) I have long threatned thee a mischiefe, and that revenge I
cannot worke on thee (come doggs, come devills) I will inflict on thy
Brat in the Cradle; instantly snatched it up in her armes, and ran
with it to the Moat side, and flings it into the middle of the water:
the poore man much affrighted, leaves to pursue her, and leaps into
the water, up in mud and water to the very chinne, crying, Save, oh
save the child. Now waded he in the Moat in a very bitter cold frost,
till he brought out the Mantle, and with much paine and danger comes
to the shore, and still crying, Alas, my poore childe, opened the
Cloathes: At length the frighted Cat cryed Mew, and being at liberty
leapt from betwixt his armes, and ranne away. The husband both amazed
and vexed, the woman heartily laughed at her revenge, and the poore
man was glad to reconcile the difference before she would either give
him fire or dry linnen.


[26.] A dear and Loving wife, that always bore a great respect to her
Husband, both in Sickness and in Health, and now did make it appear to
the very last. For when her dear Husband was, in _Essex_, condemned to
die, for a small matter God knows, that is only for stealing four or
five Horses, and breaking up as many Houses; so this sweet loving Soul
his wife, hearing where he was, came and gave him a visit. Wife, says
he, you see what I am come to now, prithee pray for me, and have a
care to bring up our Children in the fear of God. Husband, says she,
as soon as I heard of it, you see I came to you, and as you know I
have always been loving to you, you shall now find it at the last.
Pray Husband, tell me, are we to be at the charge of a Rope, or they,
for I would have all things ready to do you a kindness; for here I
have brought one forty Miles to do you a Courtesie, And so left the
Rope with him. Well, wife, says he, I thank you heartily, and pray go
home, and look after the Children. No, Husband, says she, I have not
come so far, but a Grace a God I'll see you hang'd before I go.


[17.] A Countrey man passing by S^t Pauls Church, at such time as it
was turn'd from a House of Prayer, to be a den of Thieves; I mean,
an unsanctified Guard of Souldiers: He seeing what manner of Cattle
inhabited it, asked a Shopkeeper hard by, If that place were Noah's
Ark? Being asked the reason of his demand, Because, said he, I see so
many unclean beasts therein.


[105.] When _Scogin_ and his man had ridden ten or twelve miles on
their way, hee overtooke a Priest that was riding to London, to
pay his first fruits, with whom he kept company untill he came to
Stamford, and all that way as they rode, _Scogin_ made the Priest very
good cheere, and would let him pay no money, so that _Scogin_ had
but two shillings left: and riding betweene Stamford & Huntington,
_Scogin_ complayned him to the Parson in this sort: I marvell master
Parson (quoth he) how men doe when they want money, to get it? For
when I want money, I know not how to get any, except I should steale.
No, no, said the Priest, doe you not know that they that serve God
well, doe not want, and how that God promiseth, that if you call upon
him in your afflictions, that hee will helpe you? You say well, master
Parson, said _Scogin_, and rode before; and when hee saw a faire
place, hee kneeled downe and lifted up his hands, and prayed to God,
till Master Parson and his man did overtake him, but nothing hee
could get. When they were come, hee told them he prayed, but could get
nothing. But (quoth he) I will try once againe, and then if I can get
nothing, both you, Master Parson and my man shall helpe me to pray,
for I doe not doubt but God will helpe something, when hee heareth all
our prayers. And then _Scogin_ did ride before againe, and when hee
saw his place convenient, hee alighted him from his horse and tied him
to a tree, and kneeled downe, and prayed as hee had done before, until
such time as they came to him. Then, said the Parson, How do you now,
Master _Scogin_? By my troth, said he, I can get nothing; wherefore,
alight, sirra, quoth he to his man, and tie your horse to yonder tree,
and then hee went to the Parson, and took his horse by the bridle, and
told him hee must needes helpe him to pray. The Parson for feare durst
not say him nay, but alighted, and tooke his capcase[F. 247] from the
saddle bow, wherein was fifty pounds. Then _Scogin_ asked his man how
much money hee had in his purse? He sayd, twenty pence. By my troth,
said _Scogin_, and I have but two shillings, and how much have you
Master Parson? said hee. The Parson thought that if he had told him
all, hee would surely have borrowed a good part of it, and he said,
five pounds. Well, let us pray hartily, said _Scogin_, and then
they kneeled downe, and prayed for the space of halfe an houre; and
_Scogin_ said, let us see whether God have heard our request, or no.
And then, he looked in his own purse, where was but two shillings, and
then he looked in his man's purse, where was but twenty pence. Then
_Scogin_ came to the Parson, and said, Now Master Parson, let us see
what you have, for I doe not doubt but God hath heard our prayers; and
tooke the Priests capcase and opened it, wherein was a bag with fifty
Pounds in it, which the Parson should have paid for his first fruits.
Then _Scogin_ spread his cloake abroad, and poured out the money, and
when hee had told it, hee said, By Lady, Master Parson, God hath
heard our prayer; and then hee gave him five pounds, and said, Master
Parson, here is the five pound that thou had before wee began to pray,
and the rest we will have; for I see that you are so well acquainted
with God, that with praying halfe an houre, you can get as much more:
and this will doe us great pleasure, and it is but a small matter for
you to pray halfe an houre. The Parson desired Scogin to let him have
the rest of the money, for hee said that hee did ride to London to pay
his first fruits. Well, said _Scogin_, then you must pray againe, for
wee will have this, and so they rode away, and left the Priest behind
them: and the Priest was faine to ride home againe for more money.

    [Footnote 247: A small leather travelling case.]


[82.] In Queene _Elizabeths_ dayes there was a fellow that wore a
brooch in his hat, like a tooth drawer, with a Rose and Crowne and two
letters: this fellow had a warrant from the Lord Chamberlaine at that
time to travell with an exceeding brave Ape which hee had; whereby hee
gat his living from time to time at markets and fayres: his Ape did
alwayes ride upon a mastiffe dog, and a man with a drum to attend him.
It happened that these foure travellers came to a towne called _Looe_
in _Cornwall_, where the Inne being taken, the drum went about to
signifie to the people that at such an Inne was an Ape of singular
vertue and quality, if they pleased to bestow their time and money to
see him. Now the townsmen, being honest labouring Fishers, and other
painfull functions, had no leasure to waste either time or coyne
in _Ape tricks_, so that no audience came to the Inne, to the
great griefe of _Jack an Apes_ his Master; who, collecting his wits
together, resolved to adventure to put a tricke upon the towne,
whatsoever came of it; whereupon hee took pen, inke, and paper and
wrote a warrant to the Mayor of the towne as followeth.

    _These are to will and require you, and every of you, with
    your wives and families, that upon the sight hereof you make
    your personall appearance before the Queenes Ape, for it is
    an Ape of ranke and quality, who is to be practised throughout
    her Majesties dominions, that by his long experience amongst
    her loving subjects, hee may bee the better enabled to doe her
    Majesty service hereafter; and hereof faile you not, as you
    will answer the contrary. &c._


This warrant being brought to the Mayor, he sent for a shoomaker at
the furthest end of the towne to read it; which when he heard, hee
sent for all his brethren, who went with him to the Towne Hall to
consult upon this waighty businesse. Where after they had sate a
quarter of an houre, no man saying any thing, nor any man knowing what
to say; at last a young man that never had borne any office, said,
Gentlemen, if I were fit to speake, I thinke (without offence,
under correction of the Worshipfull) that I should soone decide this
businesse; to whom the Mayor said, I pray good neighbour speake, for
though you never did beare any office here, yet you may speake as
wisely as some of us. Then sir, said the young man, my opinion is that
this Ape carrier is a gybing scoffing knave, and one that doth purpose
to make this towne a jesting mocking stocke throughout the whole
Kingdome: for was it ever knowne that a fellow should be so impudent
audacious, as to send a Warrant without either name or date, to a
Mayor of a towne, to the Queenes Lieutenant, and that he with his
brethren, their wives and families should be all commanded to come
before a _Jack an Apes?_ My counsell is, that you take him and
his Ape, with his man, and his dog, and whip the whole messe or
murrinal[F. 248] of them out of the towne, which I thinke will be much
for your credit if you doe.

At which words a grave man of the towne being much moved, said, My
friend, you have spoken little better than treason, for it is the
Queene's _Ape_, and therefore beware what you say; you say true, said
master Mayor, I muse who bad that saucy fellow come into our Company,
I pray thee, my friend, depart; I thinke you long to have us all
hanged. So in briefe hee was put out of the doores, for they were no
company for him. Well now, what is to bee done in this matter? Marry
(said another Senior) wee see by the Brooch in the mans hat that hee
is the Queenes man, and who knowes what power a knave may have in the
Court, to doe poore men wrong in the Country, let us goe and see the
_Ape_, it is but two pence a peece, and no doubt but it will be well
taken, and if it come to the Queenes eare, shee will thinke us kinde
people that would shew so much duty to her _Ape_, what may shee thinke
wee would doe to her Beares if they came hither? besides, it is above
200 miles to _London_, and if wee should bee complained on and fetched
up with Pursinants,[F. 249] whereas now every man may escape for his
two pence, Ile warrant it would cost us ten groats a peece at the
least. This counsell passed currant, and all the whole drove of the
townsmen, with wives and children, went to see the _Ape_, who was
sitting on a table with a chaine about his necke, to whom, master
Mayor (because it was the Queenes _Ape_) put off his hat, and made
a leg, but _Jacke_ let him passe unregarded. But mistris Mayoresse
comming next in her cleane linnen, held her hands before her belly,
and like a woman of good breeding, made a low curtsie, whilest
Jacke, (still Court-like) although (he) respected not the man, yet
to expresse his courtesie to his wife, hee put forth his paw towardes
her, and made a mouth, which the woman perceiving, said, Husband,
I doe think in my Conscience that the Queenes _Ape_ doth mock mee:
whereat Jacke made another mouth at her, which master Mayor espying,
was very angry, saying, Sirrah, thou _Ape_, I doe see thy saucinesse,
and if the rest of the courtiers have no more manners than thou hast
then they have all bin better fed than taught: and I will make thee
know before thou goest from hence, that this woman is my wife, an
ancient woman, and a midwife, and one that might bee thy mother for
age.

In this rage master Mayor went to the Inne doore, where _Jack an Apes_
tutor was gathering of money, to whom hee said, Sir, doe you allow
your _Ape_ to abuse my Wife? No sir, quoth the other, not by any
meanes; truly, said the Mayor, there is witnesse enough within that
have seene him make mops and mowes at her, as if shee were not worthy
to wipe his shooes, and I will not so put it up. _Jack's_ tutor
replyed, Sir, I will presently give him condigne punishment; and
straight hee tooke his Flanders blade, his Whip, and holdinge his
_Ape_ by the chaine, hee gave him halfe a dozen jerks, which made his
teeth daunce in his head like so many Virginal Jackes:[F. 250] Which
master Mayor perceiving, ranne to him, and held his hands, saying,
enough, enough, good Sir, you have done like a Gentleman, let mee
intreat you not to give correction in your wrath; and I pray you and
your _Ape_ after the Play is done, to come to my house and sup with
mee and my wife.

    [Footnote 248: Or all four of them. A corruption of murnival
    or mournival. The "Compleat Gamester" says, "A _Mournival_ is
    either all the aces, the four kings, queens or knaves, and a
    _gleck_ is three of any of the aforesaid."]

    [Footnote 249: Pursuivants]

    [Footnote 250: A jack was usually made of pear tree, and
    rested on the back end of the key lever. It had a movable
    tongue of holly working in a centre and kept in its place by
    a bristle spring. A thorn or spike of crow quill projects at
    right angles from the tongue. On the key being depressed,
    the jack is forced upwards, and the quill is brought to the
    string, which it twangs in passing. Queen Elizabeth's virginal
    has fifty jacks and quills.]


[17.] King James keeping his Court at _Theobalds_,[F. 251] in a time
of some contagion, divers Constables with their watchmen were set
at several places to hinder the concourse of people from flocking
thither, without some necessary occasion: Amongst others, one
Gentleman (being somewhat in the Garb of a Serving man) was examined
what Lord he belonged unto? To which he readily replyed, _To the Lord
Jehovah_: which words being beyond the Constables understanding, he
asked his Watchmen, if they knew any such Lord? They replyed No--:
However the Constable being unwilling to give distast, said, Well,
let him pass, notwithstanding; _I believe it is some Scottish Lord or
other_.

    [Footnote 251: Is in the parish of Cheshunt, co. Hertford.
    Was originally the seat of Lord Burleigh, whom Elizabeth
    frequently visited. It was used as a hunting lodge by James
    I., and Charles I. often resided there. William III. gave it
    to his friend Bentinck, Earl of Portland. In 1765 the remains
    of the old palace were pulled down, and the new mansion is now
    the seat of Sir Henry Meux, Bart.]


[26.] A Gentleman having drank very hard at the Kings Head Tavern,
came Reeling out up _Chancery Lane_, and chanced to Reel within the
Rails of the Pump, and kept his motion round so long that he was
tired; whereupon, leaning on the Rail he askt one that passed by,
where he was; he told him over against the _Chancery_. I thought so
(says he) and thats the Reason I think I shall never get out of this
place.


[94.] A Welchman that had one of his own Countrey men waiting upon
him, went to see a Comedy, and drawing out a Purse of gold and silver
at the door, was espied by a Cut purse and dog'd, who seated himself
close by him, his servant having all this while a careful eye towards
his Master, and jealous of the Cut purse, so that whilest his Master
was minding his sport, the Cheater got all his gold and silver out
of his pocket, and was about to be gone. The little Welchman's blood
rising at it, presently drew out his knife, and cut off his ear, which
made the fellow startle, and troubled with the smart thereof, ask't
what he meant by it? To whom the Welchman replied, shewing him his ear
in his hand, No great harm friend, onely give hur Master hur purse,
and I will give hur hur ear.


[105.] _Scogin_ waxing sicker and sicker, his friends advertised him
to make his Testament, and to shew where he would lye after hee was
dead: Friends, said _Scogin_, when I came into this World, I brought
nothing with me, and when I shall depart out of this world, I shall
take nothing away but a sheet; take you the sheet, and let mee have
the beginning againe naked. And if you cannot doe this for me, I pray
you that I may be buried at the East side of Westminster, under one
of the spouts of the leads, for I have ever loved good drinke all the
dayes of my life, and there was he buried.

When the extreame pangs of death came upon _Scogin_, the holy Candle
was put in his hand to blesse himselfe. When _Scogin_ had done so, in
surrendring thankes to God, hee said, Now the proverbe is fulfilled,
that he that worst may shall hold the Candle, for ever the weakest is
thrust to the wall.


_On the syllable_ Con.

[17.] Dogs concurr, Steeples conspire, wheels converse, Lawyers
contend, and Nurses can tend too, Foxes consent, Minors condescend,
Women conceive, Apple mongers consider, Millstones contrive, Prisoners
congeal, Rope makers concord, Scriveners condition, Faggotters
combine, Jaylors confine, Sick men consume, Drums convene, and Scolds
can vex, Commanders conduct, great Officers controul, Ducks can
dive, Mourners condole, Clouds condense, great Schollars convince,
Parishioners Congregate, Country Shoemakers contribute, viz Countrey
boot, Gamesters are concise which does not much Conduce to their
winning, grave Counsellors conceal, Cardinals conclave, School boys
construe, Countrey fellows conjoble,[F. 252] Judges condemn, Friars
confess, Jesuites confute, and Friends conferr together. Politicians
consult, Blind men connive, and Cutlers connive too. Proud men
contemn, Disputants contest together, Landlords confirm, and their
Tenants can farm any thing they let out; Bells convoke, that is call
Vokes together, Smiths contaminate, defile, that is do file, and I,
like an Epilogue _conclude_.

FINIS.

    [Footnote 252: From _con_, together, and _jobbernol_, head. To
    concert, to settle, to discuss.]


[Illustration]



APPENDIX.

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL REFERENCE

TO THE SOURCES

WHENCE THIS BOOK WAS COMPILED.


[1.] C. 40, a. 11. The Sackfull of Newes. London. Printed by Andrew
Clark, and are to be sold by Thomas Passenger,[F. 253] at the Three
Bibles upon London Bridge. 1673 (B. L.)

[2.] Additional MSS. 12,049. Epigrams &c of Sir John Harington,
Knight.

[3.] E. 1617. Wit and Drollery, Jovial Poems. Never before Printed.
By Sir J. M. Ja. S. Sir W. D. J. D.[F. 254] And other admirable
Wits--London. Printed for Nath Brook[F. 255] at the Angel in Cornhill.
18 Jan. 1656 (? 1655 O.S.). Catalogued under P.(J.)

[4.] 12,316, a. 20. England's Jests Refin'd and Improv'd, being a
Choice Collection of the Merriest Jests, Smartest Repartees, Wittiest
Sayings, and most Notable Bulls, yet extant; with many New ones, never
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at the _Harrow_ in the _Poultry_. 1693. Catalogued H. C. (Humphrey
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[5.] 11,601, b.b. 23. Witts Recreations. Selected from the finest
Fancies of Moderne Muses. With a Thousand out-Landish Proverbs.
London. Printed for Humph. Blunden, at y^e Castle in Cornhill. 1640.
Catalogued Wit.

[6.] 239, i. 25. Epigrams both Pleasant and Serious, _written by that
All-Worthy Knight_, Sir Iohn Harrington, and never before Printed.
London. Imprinted for _John Budge_,[F. 256] and are to be sold at his
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[7.] (C. 20, f. 8)/534 Roxburghe Ballads.

[8.] Grenville, 10,381. Witty Apothegms delivered at Several Times
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[9.] Grenville, 10,374. Choice Chance and Change or Conceites in their
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[10.] (C. 20, f. 8)/554 Roxburghe Ballads.

[11.] (C. 20, f. 7)/158 Roxburghe Ballads.

[12.] 11,626, a. a. 36. Westminster Quibbles in verse: Being a MOCK
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_New Exchange_. 1672.

[13.] Westminster Drollery, the Second Part, being a Compleat
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[14.] Wits Interpreter the English Parnassus &c. The 3^{rd} Edition
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[16.] The most Elegant and Wittie Epigrams of Sir John Harington
Knight. Digested into foure Bookes.--London. Printed by George Miller
1633. ((638, k. 17)/2)

[17.] C. 40, b. 11. Oxford Jests Refined and Enlarged; being a
Collection of Witty Jests, Merry Tales, & Pleasant Joques. Collected
by Captain W. H.[F. 259] Native of Oxford. London. Printed for Simon
Miller, at the Star at the West End of S^t Paul's. 1684. Catalogued
Hickes (W.)

[18.] Delight & Pastime or Pleasant Diversion for both sexes
consisting of Good History &c &c--London. Printed for _J Sprint_ at
the _Bell_, and _G. Conyers_ at the _Gold Ring_, in _Little Britain_,
over against the _Sugar Loaf_. 1697. Price 1/. Catalogued M.(G.)

[19.] (C. 20, f. 8)/226 Roxburghe Ballads.

[20.] (C. 20, f. 8)/227 Roxburghe Ballads.

[21.] (C. 22, e. 2)/110 A Collection of English Ballads.

[22.] (C. 20, f. 8)/279 Roxburghe Ballads.

[23.] (C. 20, f. 8)/359 Roxburghe Ballads.

[24.] C. 40, a. 1. Wit Restor'd in severall select Poems not formerly
publish't. London. Printed for _R. Pollard_, _N. Brooks_ and _T.
Dring_,[F. 260] and are to be sold at the Old _Exchange_, and in
_Fleet Street_. 1658. Catalogued Wit.

[25.] 1078, e. 2. Norfolk Drollery, Or a Compleat Collection of
the Newest Songs, Jovial Poems, and Catches &c--By the Author, M.
_Stevenson_. _London._ Printed for _R. Reynolds_,[F. 261] at the _Sun_
and _Bible_, and _John Lutton_ at the _Blue Anchor_ in the _Poultry_.
1673. Catalogued Stevenson.

[26.] Coffee House Jests Refined and Enlarged. By the Author of
the Oxford Jests. The Fourth Edition, with Large Additions. London.
Printed for _Hen. Rhodes_, next door to the _Swan Tavern_, near _Bride
Lane_ in _Fleet Street_. 1686. Catalogued Coffee House Jests. 12,316,
a. 15.

[27.] (816, m. 9)/31

[28.] (C. 20, f. 9)/74 Roxburghe Ballads.

[29.] (C. 20, f. 7)/42 Roxburghe Ballads.

[30.] (C. 20, f. 8)/51 Roxburghe Ballads.

[31.] (C. 20, f. 7)/340 Roxburghe Ballads.

[32.] C. 40, a. 6. The Booke of Merry Riddles, together with proper
Questions, and witty Proverbs, to make pleasant pastime. No lesse
usefull than behoovefull for any young man or child, to know if he be
quick witted, or no. London. Printed for _John Stafford_,[F. 262] and
_W.G_, and are to be sold at the _George_ near _Fleetbridg_. 1660.

[33.] (669, f. 10)/99 Single Sheets.

[34.] (669, f. 10)/106 Single Sheets.

[35.] (C. 20, f. 8)/112 The Roxburghe Ballads.

[36.] (E. 246)/23 A Dialogue or Rather a Parley betweene Prince
_Ruperts_ Dogge, whose name is PUDDLE and _Tobies_ Dog whose name is
PEPPER &c. Whereunto is added the Challeng which Prince _Griffins_
Dogg called _Towzer_ hath sent to Prince _Ruperts_ Dogg Puddle, in the
behalf of honest Pepper Tobies Dog. Moreover the said Prince _Griffin_
is newly gone to Oxford to lay the Wager, and to make up the MATCH.
Printed at London for I. Smith 1643.

[37.] (E. 99)/14 The Bloody Prince, or a declaration of the most
cruell Practices of Prince Rupert, and the rest of the Cavaliers in
fighting against God, and the true Members of His Church. By I. W.
London. Printed 1643. Catalogued W. (I.)

[38.] 12,613 c. The History of the Blind Begger of Bednal Green.

[39.] (E. 92)/13 The Parliaments unspotted Bitch: in answer to Prince
Roberts Dog called _Boy_, And his Malignant She Monkey. London.
Printed for R. Jackson 1643.[F. 263] Catalogued England.

[40.] (E. 96)/16 The Welsh Embassadour, Or the happy Newes his Worship
hath brought to London, &c--Printed for _I. Underwood_ 1643.[F. 263]

[41.] 11,609, c. 6. The Works of Mr John Cleveland &c--London. Printed
by _R Holt_ for _Obadiah Blagrave_ at the _Bear_ and _Star_, over
against the little North Door in S^t _Paul's_ Church yard 1687.

[42.] (669, f. 11)/81 The Braggadocia Souldier: and the Civill
Citizen. Printed for J. L. 1647.

[43.] (E. 3)/17 A Dogs Elegy, or Ruperts Tears[F. 264] for the
late Defeat given him at _Marston moore_, neer _York_, by the Three
Renowned Generalls _Alexander Earl of_ Leven, _Generall of the
Scottish Forces_, Fardinando _Lord_ Fairefax, _and the Earle of_
Manchester Generalls of the English Forces in the North. Where his
beloved Dog named BOY, was killed by a Valliant Souldier, who had
skill in _Necromancy_. _Likewise the strange breed of this Shagg'd_
Cavalier, _whelp'd of a Malignant_ Water-witch; with all his tricks
and feats.

  Sad Caveliers, _Rupert_ invites you all
  That doe survive, to his Dogs Funerall.
  Close mourners are the Witch, Pope, & devill,
  That much lament yo'r late befallen evill.

Printed at _London_ for _G. B._ July 27. 1644.

[44.] (E. 3)/11 The Kingdomes Weekly Intelligencer. Catalogued P. P.
London.

[45.] (E. 3)/13 A CONTINUATION of Certain Speciall and Remarkable
passages informed to the PARLIAMENT, and otherwise from divers parts
of this Kingdome, from Wednesday the 10^{th} of _Iuly_, till Wednesday
the 17. of _Iuly_. 1644. Catalogued P. P. London. Special and
Remarkable Passages.

[46.] (E. 2)/24 Ruperts Sumpter, and Private Cabinet rifled. And
a Discovery of his _Jewels_ By way of Dialogue between Mercurius
_Britannicus_ and Mercurius _Aulicus_. London.

Printed by J. Coe[F. 265] A.D. 1644. Catalogued Rupert.

[47.] (E. 4)/4 The Catholike's Petition to Prince _Rupert_ showing The
ground of their Griefe, The force of their Constancie, and their
hopes of Recovery. With a Draught of a _Proclamation_ presented to
his Highnesse, for the more speedy Recruiting his Army, destroying the
Protestants, and gaining a Crowne.

  Prince looke about thee, here is much adoe,
  'Tis time to looke, and lay about thee too;
  Send obstinate offenders to their graves.
  That neither will be Catholikes nor slaves.

Printed according to Order for G. B.[F. 266] August 1. 1644.
Catalogued Catholics.

[48.] (E. 2)/1 A Continuation of true Intelligence from the _English_
and _Scottish_ Forces, in the North, for the service of King and
Parliament, and now beleaguering York, from the 16^{th} of June to
Wednesday the 10^{th} of _July_. 1644. Wherein is given a full
and particular Accompt of the Battaile with Prince Rupert, and the
Marquesse New Castle together with the successe thereof. By Sim. Ash.
Chaplaine to the Earle of _Manchester_, and one of the Ministers of
the Assembly. London. Printed for _Thomas Underhill_, at the Bible in
Woodstreet. 1644.

[49.] (E. 90)/25 An exact description of Prince _Rupert's_ Malignant
She-Monkey, a great Delinquent: Having approved herselfe a better
servant, than his white Dog called _Boy_. Laid open in three
particulars: 1. What she is in her owne shape. 2. What she doth
figuratively signifie. 3. Her malignant tricks and qualities. Printed
for _E. Johnson_. 1642 (a misprint for 1643). Catalogued Ruperts.

[50.] (E. 93)/9 The Humerous Tricks and Conceits of Prince _Roberts_
Malignant She-Monkey, discovered to the world before her marriage.
Also the manner of her marriage to a Cavaleer, and how within three
dayes space, she called him Cuckold to his face. London, printed for
T. Cornish. (There is no date, but it must have been in the same year
as [49.]) Catalogued Rupert. Prince.

[51.] C. 39, e. 58. Doctor Merry-man: or Nothing but Mirth. Written
by S. R. London Printed for _Samuell Rand_, and are to be sold at his
Shoppe neere Holborne bridge. 1616. Catalogued R. (S.)

[52.] C. 40, c. 33. Pasquil's Jests with the Merriments of Mother
Bunch. Wittie pleasant, and delightfull. London. Printed by I. F. and
are to be sold by _William Gilbertson_[F. 267] at the signe of the
Bible in Giltspur-street. (1650?)

[53.] (C. 20, f. 8)/254 Roxburghe Ballads.

[54.] 2044, g. Bartholomew Fayre: A Comedie, Acted in the Yeare 1614
By the Lady Elizabeths Servants, And then dedicated to King IAMES,
of _most Blessed Memorie_. By the Author, Beniamin Johnson. London.
Printed by I. B. for Robert Allot, and are to be sold at the signe of
the _Beare_, in _Pauls_ Church-yard. 1631.

[55.] (C. 20, f. 7)/214 Roxburghe Ballads.

[56.] (C. 20, f. 7)/325. Roxburghe Ballads.

[57.] (C. 20, f. 7)/254. Roxburghe Ballads.

[58] (669, f. 10)/105 Single Sheets. 1646.

[59.] Harl. MSS. 5947/166

[60.] (C. 20, f. 10)/76 Roxburghe Ballads.

[61.] 12,315, a. 11. Mirth in abundance. Set forth and made manifest
in many Jests, upon severall occasions, full of Wit and Truth.
Contriv'd to relieve the Melancholy, and rejoyce the Merry, to expell
sorrow, and advance Jollity. All of them New and Noble, free from
Rayling, Baudery, Blasphemy or Incivility. Collected and set together
by a lover of lawfull Mirth and true hearted Society. London. Printed
for _Francis Grove_, neere the Saracens Head on Snow Hill. 1659.

[62.] Harl. MSS. 5947/167

[63.] (C. 20, f. 7)/384 Roxburghe Ballads.

[64.] (E. 1351)/2 The Astrologer's Bugg-beare: Being a briefe
Description of many Pitthy Passages, which were brought to passe upon
that day which the Astrologers pointed out for Black-Monday: Whereby
wee may all see and know that God's power is beyond man's expectation.
Mark well and take notice, it is worth your observation. Written by L.
P. London. Printed for _Sicnarf Seloc_, in the Yeare of the downfall
of darke Astrology, and are to be sold in Country and City, by honest,
harmlesse people, that love _England_ and its Friends. Catalogued
P.(L.)

[65.] 644. b. 56. The Alchemist written by Ben Ionson.

  ----Neque, me ut miretur turba, laboro:
  Contentus paucis lectoribus.

London printed by _Thomas Snodham_[F. 268] for _Walter Burre_,[F. 269]
and are sold by _John Stepneth_ at the West End of Paules. 1612.

[66.] (C. 20, f. 8)/78 Roxburghe Ballads.

[67.] Ad. MSS. 15,227. Sir John Harringtons Epigrams.

[68.] (C. 20, f. 9)/212 Roxburghe Ballads.

[69.] E. 1351/5 No-Body his Complaint. Dialogue between Master
No-Body, and Doctour Some-Body. A delightfull Discourse, by George
Baron

  No-Body     _Why do'st thou father all thy Lies
              On me? heaping Indignities
              On one that never injur'd thee?_

  Some-Body   _My Words and Acts hurt_ No-Body.

  No-Body.    Som-Body _hath belied me much_,
              No-Body _sure hath cause to grutch_.

London. Printed by B. Alsop,[F. 270] dwelling near the Upper-Pomp in
Grub Street. 1652.

[70.] 2044, g. Ionson's Works. Vol. I. Epigrammes. I. Booke. The
Author B. I.[F. 271] London. 1616.[F. 272]

[71.] (C. 20, f. 9)/88 Roxburghe Ballads.

[72.] Grenville, 16,427. Ar't asleepe Husband? A Boulster Lecture.
Stored With all variety of Witty jeasts, merry Tales, and other
pleasant passages; Extracted from the choicest flowers of Philosophy,
Poesy, antient and moderne History. Illustrated with Examples of
incomparable constancy, in the excellent History of _Philocles_ and
_Doriclea_. By _Philogenes Panedonius_. London, Printed by R.
Bishop, for Richard Best, and are to be sold at his shop neare
Graies-Inne-gate in Holeborne. 1646.

[73.] (C. 39, k. vol. 2)/171 Bagford Ballads.

[74.] (E. 1640)/3 Here's Jack in a Box, that will Coniure the Fox, or
a new List of the new Fashions now used in _London_.

        Come who buyes Jack in a Box,
        That will Cunjure the Fox,
        And move them to delight:
        It may serve as I may say,
        For to passe the time away,
        In the long Winter nights,
        To sit by a good fire,
        When the Season doth require,
        Your Body to keepe warme:
        This Booke of merriment
        Will yield you sweet content,
        And doe you no harme.

  This new merry Booke was newly Invented,
  But never before this time Imprinted.

Written by _Laurence Price_ in the moneth of October. 1656.--London,
Printed for _Tho. Vere_[F. 273] at the _Angel_ without _Newgate_.

[75.] Grenville, 11,163. The Wits, or Sport upon Sport. Being a
curious Collection of several Drols and Farces, Presented and Shewn
For the Merriment and Delight of Wise Men, and the Ignorant. As they
have been sundry times Acted in Publique, and Private, In London at
Bartholomew, In the Countrey at other Faires. In Halls and Taverns.
On several Mountebancks Stages, at Charing Cross, Lincolns Inn Fields,
and other places. By Several Stroleing Players, Fools, and Fidlers,
and the Mountebancks Zainies with Loud Laughter, and great Applause.
Written I know not when, by several Persons, I know not who, But now
newly Collected by your Old Friend to please you.

Francis Kirkman.[F. 274] London, 1672.

[76.] (C. 20, f. 7)/343 Roxburghe Ballads.

[77.] 12,331, b. 42. Tarlton's Jests. Drawne into these three
parts. 1. His Court Witty Iests. 2. His found City Iests. 3. His
Countrey-pretty Iests. full of delight, Wit and honest Mirth. London.
Printed by I.H.[F. 275] for Andrew Crook, and are to be sold in Pauls
Church-yard, at the signe of the Beare. 1638.

[78.] C. 40, a. 22. Conceits, Clinches, Flashes, and Whimzies. Newly
studied, with some Collections, but those never published before in
this kinde. London. Printed by _R. Hodgkinsonne_ for _Daniel
Frere_, and are to be sold at the signe of the red _Bull_ in _little
Brittain_. 1639.

[79.] (669, f. 11)/121 (Single Sheets) 25 Jan. 1647.

[80.] (C. 22, e. 2)/153 A Collection of Ballads.

[81.] 11,623, a.a.a. 32. Epigrammes written on purpose to be read:
with a Proviso that they may be understood by the Reader, being Ninety
in Number: Besides two new made Satyres that attend them. By John
Taylor,[F. 276] at the Signe of the Poet's Head, in Ph[oe]nix Alley,
neare the middle of Long Aker, or Covent Garden. London. Printed in
the Yeare 1651.

[82.] 79, h. 22. "Wit & Mirth" in "All the Workes of Iohn Taylor the
Water poet being 63 in number, collected into one Volum by the Author
with sundry new Additions, Corrected, Revised, and newly Imprinted.
1630.

[83.] (C. 39, k. vol. 3)/88 The Bagford Ballads.

[84.] (C. 22, e. 2)/210 A Collection of Ballads.

[85.] 1078, g. 15. Covent Garden Drollery, or a Collection of all
the Choice Songs, Poems, Prologues and Epilogues, Sung and Spoken at
Courts and Theaters, never in Print before. Written by the refind'st
Witts of the Age. And Collected by A(lexander) B(rome). London.
Printed for James Magnes neer the Piazza in Russel Street. 1672.
Catalogued B. (A.)

[86.] 12,316, a. 27. Fragmenta Aulica, or Court and State Jests in
Noble Drollery. True and Reall. Ascertained to their Times, Places and
Persons. By T. S. Gent. London, Printed for H. Marsh[F. 277] at the
Princes Armes in Chancery Lane near Fleet street; and Jos.
Coniers[F. 278] at the Black Raven in the long Walk near Christ Church.
1662. Catalogued S.(T. Gent.)

[87.] (C. 20, f. 8)/407 Roxburghe Ballads.

[88.] (C. 22, e. 2)/196 A Collection of Ballads.

[89.] (C. 20, f. 7)/36 Roxburghe Ballads.

[90.] (C. 20, f. 7)/28 Roxburghe Ballads.

[91.] 12,316, a.a. 7. A Helpe to Discourse. Or A Misselany of
Seriousnesse with Merriment. Consisting of witty Philosophicall,
Gramaticall, and Astronomicall Questions and Answers. As also
Of Epigrams, Epitaphs, Riddles, and Jests. Together with the
Countrey-mans Counsellour, next his yearley Oracle or Prognostication
to consult with. Contayning divers necessary Rules and Observations,
of much use and consequence, _beeing knowne_. Now the sixt time
published, and much inlarged by the former Authors W. B.[F. 279]
and E. P.[F. 280] London. Printed by B. A. and T Fawcet, for Leonard
Becket, and are to be sold at his shop in the Temple, neere the
Church. 1627. Catalogued. B. (W.) and P. (E.)

[92.] (C. 22, e. 2)/198 A Collection of Ballads.

[93.] C. 40, d. 38. Merrie conceited Jests of George Peele[F. 281]
Gentleman, sometimes a Student in Oxford. Wherein is shewed the course
of his life, how he lived; a man very well knowne in the Citie of
London, and elsewhere.

  Buy, reade and judge
  The price doe not grudge;
  It will doe thee more pleasure,
  Than twice so much treasure.

London. Printed by G. P. for F. Faulkner,[F. 282] and are to be sold
at his Shop in Southwarke, neere Saint Margarets Hill. 1627.

[94.] (1080, e. 28)/2 A choice Banquet of Witty Jests, Rare Fancies,
and Pleasant Novels. Fitted for all the Lovers of Wit, Mirth, and
Eloquence. Being an Addition to _Archee's_[F. 283] JESTS, taken out
of his Closet; but never publisht by him in his life time. London.
Printed by T. J. and are to be sold by Peter Dring[F. 284] at the Sun
in the Poultry 1660. Catalogued Armstrong (A.) Jester.

[95.] (669, f. 11)/127 Single Sheets.

[96.] (C. 20, f. 7)/138 Roxburghe Ballads.

[97.] 12,316, a. 43. The Merry Dutch Miller and New Invented Windmill.
Wherewith he undertaketh to grind all sorts of Women, as the Old,
Decreped, Wrinkled, Blear ey'd, Long Nosed, Blind, Lame, Scolds,
Jealous, Angry, Poor, Drunkards, W----, Sluts, or all others what
soever. They shall come out of his Mill Young, Active, Pleasant,
Handsome, Wise, Loving, Vertuous and Rich; Without any Deformity and
just suteable to their Husband's Humours.

_The Rich for Money, and the Poor for nothing._ Composed Dialogue
wise, for the Recreation of all those that are inclined to be merry,
and may serve to pass away an hour in a Cold winter night (without any
great offence) by a good fire side.

  The Miller and the Mill you see
  How throng'd with Customers they be:
  Then bring your Wives unto the Mill,
  And Young for Old you shall have still.

London. Printed by E. Crowch,[F. 285] for F. Coles,[F. 286]
T. Vere,[F. 286] and J. Wright.[F. 286] 1672.

[98.] (669, f. 26)/64 Single Sheets.

[99.] (E. 451)/14 A Brown Dozen of Drunkards: (Ali-ass Drink-hards)
Whipt, and shipt to the Isle of Guls: for their abusing of M^r _Malt_
the bearded son, and _Barley-broth_ the brainlesse daughter of Sir
John Barleycorne. All joco-seriously descanted to our Wine drunk,
Wrath drunk, Zeale drunk, staggering Times. By one that hath drunk
at _S^t Patricks_[F. 287] Well. London. Printed by Robert Austen on
Addlin-hill. 1648.

[100.] (669, f. 10)/49 Single sheets.

[101.] (C. 20, f. 2)/12 Poetical Broadsides.

[102.] 1076, m. 2. Humors Ordinarie. Where a man may bee verie merrie,
and exceeding well used for his six-pence. At London. Printed by
Edward Allde, for William Firebrand, and are to bee sold at his Shoppe
in the Popes head Alley, right over against the Taverne doore. 1607.
Catalogued Rowlands. (S.)

[103.] 12,314, i. 31. Ingenii Eructus, or the Cambridge Jests, being
Youths Recreation &c. By W. B. London printed for William Spiller,
over against the Cross Keys in Red Lyon street, near the Fields,
Holbourn, 1700. Price bound 1^s/

[104.] (C. 39, vol. 2.)/111 Bagford Ballads.

[105.] 1080, e. 26. The First and best Part of Scoggins Jests. Full
of witty mirth and pleasant shifts, done by him in France, and other
places: being a preservative against melancholy. Gathered by Andrew
Boord, Doctor of Physicke. London. Printed for Francis Williams 1626.

[106.] (669, f. 6)/12 Single Sheets.

[107.] (C. 22, e. 2)/5 English Ballads.

[108.] (C. 22, e. 2)/66 English Ballads.

[109.] (C. 22, e. 2)/69 English Ballads.

[110.] C. 39, d. 2. The Pleasant Conceites of Old Hobson the merry
Londoner, full of humorous discourses, and witty merriments. Whereat
the quickest wittes may laugh, and the Wiser sort take pleasure.
Printed at London for John Wright, and are to be sold at his shoppe
neere Christ Church gate, 1607. Catalogued Johnson (R.)

[111.] (C. 22, e. 2)/67 English Ballads.

[112.] (C. 22, e. 2)/141 English Ballads.

[113.] (669, f. 16)/66 Single Sheets--Sep. 1652.

[114.] (C. 22, e. 2)/43 English Ballads.

[115.] (C. 20, f. 4. vol. 2)/84 Luttrell Collection.

[116.] Newspapers, 1681, vol. 3. Heraclitus Ridens: at a Dialogue
between Jest and Earnest, concerning the Times. Numb. 15. Tuesday May
10, 1681.

[117.] (816, m. 19)/38 An exact Accompt of the Receipts and
Disbursements Expended by the Committee of Safety. Upon the Emergent
Occasions of the Nation. Delivered in by M^r R. Secretary to the said
Committee, to prevent false Reports, and prejudicate Censures. London.
Printed for Jer. Hanzen. 1660.

[118.] (C. 20, f. 4 vol. 2)/103. (The Luttrell Collection) Inamorato
and Misogamos; or a Love Song Mock'd. London. Printed for H. Brome, at
the Gun, at the West End of S^t Pauls. 1675.

[119.] (C. 39, k. vol. 2)/61 Bagford Ballads.

[120.] (C. 22, e. 2)/82 English Ballads.

[121.] C. 39, b. 39. Wit and Drollery, Joviall Poems: Corrected and
much amended with Additions, By Sir J. M. Ja. S. Sir W. D. J. D.[F. 288]
and the most refined Wits of the Age. London. Printed for Nath Brook, at
the Angel in Cornhil, 1661. Catalogued M. (E.) (The Editor of this
edition.)

[122.] (C. 22, e. 2)/52 English Ballads.

[123.] (669, f. 16)/13 Old Sayings and predictions verified.

[124.] (C. 20, f. 8)/376 Roxburghe Ballads.

[125.] (C. 20, f. 7)/34 Roxburghe Ballads.

[126.] (C. 39, k. vol. 2)/58 Bagford Collection.

[127.] 1078, e. 32. Wit and Mirth; or Pills to purge Melancholy. Being
a Collection of the best Merry Ballads and Songs, Old and New. Fitted
to all Humours, having each there proper Tune for either Voice or
Instrument, many of the Songs being a new Set. &c--London. Printed by
Will. Pearson, for Henry Playford. at his Shop in the Temple Change.
1699.

[128.] (669, f. 10)/111 Catalogue of the severall Sects and Opinions
in England and other Nations, With a briefe Rehearsall of their false
and dangerous Tenents. Printed for R. A. 1647.

    [Footnote 253: T. Passenger published between 1670 and 1682.]

    [Footnote 254: Sir John Menzies, James Smith, Sir William
    Davenant, and John Dryden. The dedication and preface signed
    J. P., _i.e._ John Playford, a publisher and writer of
    prefaces of that period.]

    [Footnote 255: Nathaniel Brook published between 1661 and
    1668.]

    [Footnote 256: John Budge was in business in 1609, as one of
    the Roxburghe Ballads shows.]

    [Footnote 257: Query, Royal Exchange.]

    [Footnote 258: Cademan also published in 1675, as one of the
    Roxburghe Ballads bears that date.]

    [Footnote 259: Nothing is known of Capt. Wm. Hickes, except as
    being the author of _Oxford Drolleries_ and _Oxford Jests_.]

    [Footnote 260: Published between 1650 and 1687.]

    [Footnote 261: Rowland Reynolds published also in 1671.]

    [Footnote 262: Published from 1631 to 1660. Mr. Halliwell
    reprinted this little book in 1866. He says, "It is believed
    to be unique. It is an edition with many variations of the
    old Book of Riddles alluded to by Slender." The copy in
    the British Museum has a pencil note, "Cost me ten pounds
    unbound." It is in black letter.]

    [Footnote 263: This, as far as I can learn, is the only year
    of his publishing.]

    [Footnote 264: These (said to be the invention of Prince
    Rupert) are small pear-shaped bubbles of glass, formed by
    dropping melted glass in water. They will bear a smart stroke
    on the thick end, but if the thin end is fractured, which is
    done very easily, they are resolved into a very fine powder,
    bursting with a slight explosion. These toys are easily
    procurable.]

    [Footnote 265: Jane Coe published between 1644 and 1647.]

    [Footnote 266: Probably G. Bishop, who published from 1641 to
    1644.]

    [Footnote 267: Gilbertson published between 1640 and 1663.]

    [Footnote 268: Alias _East_, published between 1609 and 1612.]

    [Footnote 269: Certainly published in 1600.]

    [Footnote 270: Published between 1650 and 1652.]

    [Footnote 271: Ben Jonson.]

    [Footnote 272: I cannot find a separate edition of these
    Epigrams, although there is this entry in the Register of
    the Stationers Company: "John Stepneth. 15^{_to_} Maii 1612.
    Entred for his Copy vnder th' (h)andes of master Nydd, and
    Th(e) wardens, A booke called, Ben Johnson his Epigrams.
    vj^{_d._}"]

    [Footnote 273: He published from 1648 to 1680.]

    [Footnote 274: Kirkman also published in 1661.]

    [Footnote 275: In all probability Joseph Hunt in Bedlem, near
    Moore field gate, who printed in 1613.]

    [Footnote 276: The "Water Poet."]

    [Footnote 277: Published 1660, 1661.]

    [Footnote 278: Or Conyers, was also in Fetter Lane, Duck Lane,
    on Holborn Hill, and at the Anchor and Bible adjoining St.
    Peter's Alley, Cornhill, published 1682-1691.]

    [Footnote 279: William Basse.]

    [Footnote 280: Edward Phillips, author of Theatrum Poetarum,
    or a Compleat Collection of the Poets. Lond. 1675.]

    [Footnote 281: He was a dramatic author, and an acquaintance
    both of Shakespeare and Ben Jonson. He led what we should term
    a somewhat "fast life."]

    [Footnote 282: He lived "over against St. Margaret's Hill
    in Southwark," and published one of the Roxburghe ballads in
    1631.]

    [Footnote 283: Archie Armstrong, Court Jester to James I. and
    Charles I.]

    [Footnote 284: There was another of this name, T. Dring, who
    lived in Fleet Street, and published between 1650 and 1687.]

    [Footnote 285: Published from 1658 to 1674.]

    [Footnote 286: Although separate publishers, they were
    occasionally partners, and as such published from 1655 to
    1680.]

    [Footnote 287: A cant Irish term for the best whisky.]

    [Footnote 288: See No. 3 and footnote (Footnote 255).]



SOME OF THE TUNES

_noted_

_in this Book._


[Music: _Sir Eglamore. See p. 9._]

[Music: _Come Lasses and Lads. See p. 23._]

[Music: _Sellenger's Round. See p. 68._]

[Music: _Dumb, Dumb, Dumb. See p. 99._]

[Music: _Sawney and Jockey. See p. 116._]

[Music: _Stingo; or, the Oyle of Barley. See p. 124._]

[Music: _Pegge of Ramsay; or, Watton Town's End. See p. 142._]

[Music: _Upon a Summer's Day. See p. 159._]

[Music: _Shall I lye beyond thee? or, Lulle me beyond thee. See p.
207._]

[Music: _The Spinning Wheel. See p. 241._]

[Music: _Cuckolds all a Row. See p. 255._]

[Music: _The Leather Bottel. See p. 312._]

[Music: _Ragged and Torn. See p. 327._]

[Music: _There was a Jovial Beggar. See p. 386._]

[Music: _Ioan's Ale is New. See p. 399._]

[Music: _Love will find out the way. See p. 417._]

[Music: _The Joviall Crew; or, A Beggar, a Beggar, a Beggar I'll be.
See p. 424._]

[Illustration]



    Transcriber's Note:

    - - signifies italic text; = = signifies Old English text;
    ^ or ^{} signifies a superscript.

    [=] signifies a letter with a macron (straight line over)
    accent; [~] signifies a letter with a tilde over, sometimes
    indication an omitted letter.

    This book has regular Footnotes, Endnotes, and special Notes.

    Footnotes are numbered consecutively through the book, [F. 1]
    etc., and placed below the snippet/poem/article etc. to which
    they refer.

    The other numbers in square brackets, e.g. [61.], are
    references to publications listed at the end of the book.

    Punctuation is somewhat irregular, and not always present.
    Opening quotes are not always closed, and sometimes the closing
    quote is many paragraphs after the opening quote. Punctuation
    has not been regularised. Some punctuation is older style, as :
    for . Some missing or damaged punctuation has been repaired.

    The spelling is not necessarily consistent. A word or name can
    be spelt several ways in the same article.

    'I' often means 'aye' (meaning 'yes'), even in the same
    sentence as 'I' the personal pronoun.

    The spelling of this book is from the 17th Century, when
    modern spelling rules did not apply.

    Apostrophes (of ownership) were usually absent.

    Dashes frequently replace letters in censored words, leaving
    the astute reader able to guess the word, while not falling
    foul of officialdom.


    Line 251, Page 3: King _Harry_ groates

    [Note: Harry was King Henry; a groat was an old English silver
    coin, first coined by Henry III in 1249, and by Edward III in
    1351. Originally worth one penny, it later rose to the value
    of fourpence. The groat was revived between 1836 and 1856,
    and withdrawn from circulation in 1887 (from Collins New Age
    Encyclopedia, 1963)].

    Line 4244, Page 104: Pr. Rob. Dog corrected to Pr. Rup. Dog
                 (printer's error).

    Line 5850, Page 147: 'I'l.' sic. "and therefore I'l. light."

    Line 5969, Page 150: 'I, i and J, j were often interchangeable:

    "Puss my aple gainst thy mouse jle lay The gam's mine jf thast
    ne'r a trump to play"

    would perhaps today be written

    "Puss my apple 'gainst thy mouse I'll lay. The game's mine if
    thou hast ne'er a trump to play"

    but this book is 17th century....

    Line 7258, Page 182: 'of his freind'.
    "Freind" was a normal 17th century spelling of 'friend'.

    Line 10662, Page 268: [94*.] is as printed. The reason for the
    asterisk is unclear.

    line 10914: 60000l.
    l is short for 'libra' (Latin) = £ (pound/pounds); so, £60,000.

    Line 13075, Page 333: 'is' corrected to 'in'.

    "the Hare went through a Muse[F. 211] in a Hedg where a
    Carpenter had hid his Axe,..."

    Line 17125, Page 438: '_woood_' corrected to '_wood_

    "Being a MOCK to the _Crab_ of the _Wood_, and to that Tune:"

    Page 440: Printed for R. Jackson 1643.[F. 263]; Printed for
    _I. Underwood_ 1643.[F. 263] This is not an error: the same
    footnote ([Footnote 263: This, as far as I can learn, is the
    only year of his publishing.]) would appear to apply to both
    publishers.





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