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Humour, Wit, & Satire of the Seventeenth Century

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Title: Humour, Wit, & Satire of the Seventeenth Century

Compiler: John Ashton


        
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUMOUR, WIT, & SATIRE OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY ***

  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 wa

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