Humour, Wit, & Satire of the Seventeenth Century

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 fleets¹ the Milk, he makes the Chese,

He gropes² 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 Cot³ 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 twatling⁴ 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.

[5.]Strotzo doth weare no ring upon his hand,

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.

[5.]A fly out of his glasse a guest did take,

'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.

[9.]A Chuffe that scarce hath teeth to chew his meate,

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.

[3.]Sir Egley More⁹ that Valiant Knight,

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 coller¹⁰ 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.

[5.]The Devill was once deceived by a fryar,

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?

[5.]Battus doth bragge he hath a world of bookes

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.

[10.]You lovers of mirth attend a while,

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 conjues¹¹ 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?

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,¹² in West Smithfield.

[5.]Geta from wool and weaving first began,

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.

[5.]Ye powers above, and heavenly poles,

Are graves become but Button Holes.

[3.]Jack Wiseman brags his very name,

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 œnigma can,

Make a light Woman a Wiseman.

[6.]One that had lived long by lewdest shifts,

Brought to the Court that Corne from Cockle¹⁴ 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.

[5.]When Marcus fail'd a borrowed sum to pay,

Unto his friend at the appointed day:

'Twere superstition for a man he sayes,

To be a strict observer of set dayes.

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 Stan¹⁵ 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.

They sent for a wench, her name it was Besse,

And her they hired to welcome their guesse,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.¹⁷

[12.]A rich man, and's Wife,

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.

[12.]One Hart, that was Wild

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.

[5.]Sextus doth wish his wife in heaven were

Where can shee have more happines than there?

[13.]Come lasses and ladds,

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.

²⁰ I. I says Mall

Wee'l lead up Packingtons²¹ pound

No, no, says Noll

And so says Doll

Wee'l first have Sellengers²² 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.

[5.]Thou hast compos'd a book, which neither age

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.

[12.]A man did surmise

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.

[6.]I heard that Smug the Smith for Ale and Spice,

Sold all his tooles, and yet he kept his Vice.

[6.]When Lynus meetes me, after Salutations,

Curtesies, complements, and gratulations,

He presseth me unto the third deniall,

To lend him twenty shillings or a ryall;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.

[13.]I went to the Tavern, and then,

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.

[5.]If adverse fortune bring to passe

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.

[12.]A Fellow told his Friends.

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.

[14.]If that from Glove you take the letter G

Then glove is love, and that I send to thee.

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.

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.

[14.]A Watch lost in a Tavern? that's a Crime,

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.

[16.]A Taylor thought a man of upright dealing,

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 Venetians²⁴ 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.

[5.]The angry Father hearing that his childe

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.

[16.]You see the goodly hayre that Galla weares,

'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.

[19.]There is a ship we understand

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.

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'd²⁶ 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.

[13.]The old name of Robbing,

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.

[14.]Here lies at least ten in the hundred,

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.

[13.]Be your liquor small, or as thick as mudd.

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.

[20.]I have a Wife, the mores my Care,

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.

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.

[5.]The little man, by t'other man's vain glory,

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.

[13.]Here to a period is a Scriv'ner come;

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.

[13.]I saw a Peacock, with a fiery tail.

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,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.

[12.]One writ Olivarius

Instead of Oliverus

In Oliver's time; 'twas his will,

And his reason was good,

If well understood,

'Cause he varies from verus still.

[12.]A man he did say

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?

[21.]And the Devil he was weather-beat,

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.

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.

[16.]To Doctor Sheerhood how Sack makes one leane.

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.

[12.]Tom's Ears being lost,

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.

[22.]O did you not hear of a Rumor of late,

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 Cowcomber³⁴ 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.

[23.]One night at a very late hour

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.

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?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.⁴⁰

The next thing that causes the Trouble,

my Name he would have me to show,

The which is right honest Mark Noble,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.

[12.]One did ask why B

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.

[6.]In elder times an ancient custome was

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.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.

[24.]Meg and her husband Tom, not long agoe,

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.

[28.]My Friend, if you will understand

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,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 bust⁵⁵ 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 Garden⁵⁶ 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.

[12.]A simple Fellow lookt

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.

[29.]I am a lusty begger,

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.

[12.]Sirrah, you are base

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.

[25.]Two Lawyers had of late a Tavern Jarr

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.

[6.]A Lord, that purpos'd for his more availe,

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.

[12.]Some said, Sir, you keep

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.

[30.]A Noble Man he Marry'd with a cruel Scold,

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.

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.

[12.]Mr Hill he did say

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.

[14.]When Galla for her health goes to the Bath,

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.

[5.]A Welshman and an Englishman disputed,

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.

[12.]'Fore a Justice was brought

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.

[5.]My love and I for kisses play'd

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.

[5.]In my conceit Sir John, you were to blame,

To make a quiet good wife, a mad dame.

[6.]Milo with haste to cram his greedy gut,

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.

[31.]Give eare my loving Country-men

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.

[32.]He went to the wood and caught it,

He sate him down and sought it,

Because he could not find it,

Home with him he brought it.

[12.]Three had a contest

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.⁶¹

[14.]Don Pedro's out of debt; be bold to say it;

For they are said to owe that mean to pay it.

[24.]Scylla is toothlesse; yet when she was young,

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.

[12.]One desir'd, being dead,

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.

[5.]The first of all our sex, came from the side of man,

I thither am return'd from whence I came.

[6.]A Gallant full of life, and void of care.

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.

[12.]A Lawyer said in jest

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.

[24.]Devising on a time what name I might

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.

[53.]As I lay Slumbring in a Dream,

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.

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: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.⁷¹

[51.]A Money Monger choyce of Sureties had;

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 Counter⁷² 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.

[12.]A Grave there was made

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.

[5.]A Courtier proud walking along the Street,

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.

[51.]A wealthy Misers sonne, upon a day,

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.

[55.]Come, and doe not musing stand,

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.

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 Snake⁷⁴

the King's great Porter⁷⁵ scorne;

Twill make the stoutest Lubber weak,

this little Barley Corne.

It hath more shifts than Lambe⁷⁶ ere had,

or Hocus Pocus too,

It will good fellowes shew more sport

than Bankes⁷⁷ 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.

[5.]I took the wall, one rudely thrust me by,

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.

[12.]Mr. Button being dead,

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.

[5.]A question 'tis why women weare a fall,

The truth it is to pride they are given all,

And pride the proverbe saies must have a fall.

[12.]A Gentleman did say

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.

[56.]As I lay musing all alone

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 jetting⁸² on the way,

That live delightfull idle lives,

and go in garments gay:

That with the men their shapes doe change,

or else they'l chide and brawle,

Thus women goe like monsters strange,

but poore men pay for all.

Me thought I was i' th' countrey

where poore men take great paines,

And labour hard continually,

onely for rich mens gaines:

Like th' Israelites in Egypt,

the poore are kept in thrall,

The task-masters are playing kept,

but poore men pay for all.

Me thought I saw poore Tradesmen

i' th' City and else where,

Whom rich men keepe as beads-men,

in bondage, care, and feare:

Thei'l have them worke for what they list,

thus weakest goe to the wall,

The rich men eate and drinke the best

but poore men pay for all.

Me thought I saw two Lawyers base

one to another say,

We have had in hand this poore mans Case,

a twelvemonth and a day;

And yet wee'l not contented be

to let the matter fall,

Beare thou with me, & Ile beare with thee

while poore men pay for all.

Me thought I saw a red-nose Oast,

as fat as he could wallow,

Whose carkasse, if it should be roast,

would drop seven stone of tallow:

He grows rich out of measure,

with filling measure small,

He lives in mirth and pleasure,

but poore men pay for all.

And so likewise the Brewer stout,

the Chandler and the Baker,

The Mault man also without doubt,

and the Tobacco taker,

Though they be proud and stately growne,

and beare themselves so tall,

Yet to the world it is well knowne,

that poore men pay for all.

Even as the mighty fishes still,

doe feed upon the lesse;

So rich men, might they have ther will

would on the poore man ceaze⁸³

It is a proverbe old and true,

that weakest goe to th' wall,

Rich men can drinke till th' sky looke blue,

but poore men pay for all.

But now, as I before did say,

this is but a Dreame indeed,

Though all dreames prove not true, some may

hap right, as I doe reade.

And if that any come to passe,

I doubt this my Dreame shall;

For still tis found too true a case,

that poore men pay for all.

[51.]A Sort of Clownes for loss which they sustain'd

By Souldiers, to the Captaine sore complain'd,

With dolefull wordes, and very woefull faces,

They Moov'd him to compassionate their Cases.

Good Sir (sayes one) I pray redress our wrong,

They that have done it, unto you belong;

Of all that eare we had we are bereft,

Except our very Shirts, theres nothing left.

The Captaine answer'd thus; Fellowes heare mee:

My Souldiers rob'd you not, I plainely see:

At your first speech, you made me somewhat sad,

But your last wordes resolv'd the doubt I had.

For they which rifled you left Shirts (you say)

And I am sure mine carry all away:

By this I know an errour you are in,

My Souldiers would have left you but your skin.

[12.]One did praise dead Beer,

Says his Friend, I fear

That you have a Worm in your Head;

Why de'e praise dead Beer?

So must you too I swear,

We must all speak well of the dead.

[5.]When Crassus in his office was instal'd,

For summs of money, which he yet doth owe,

A client by the name of Clerk him Call'd,

As he next day to Westminster did go.

Which Crassus hearing, whispers thus in's eare,

Sirrah, you now mistake, and much do erre,

That henceforth must the name of Clerke forbear,

And know I am become an Officer.

Alas (quoth he) I did not so much marke,

Good Mr Officer, that are no clerke.

[57.]When I was a Batchelour

I liv'd a merry life,

But now I am a married man,

and troubled with a wife,

I cannot doe as I have done,

because I live in feare,

If I goe but to Islington,

my wife is watching there

Give me my yellow Hose againe,

give me my yellow hose;

For now my wife she watcheth me,

see yonder where she goes.

But when I was a prentice bound,

and my Indentures made:

In many faults I have beene found

yet never thus afraid.

For if I chance now by the way

a woman for to kisse,

The rest are ready for to say

thy Wife shall know of this.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

Thus when I come in company

I passe my mirth in feare,

For one or other merrily,

will say my wife is there.

And then my look doth make them laugh,

to see my wofull case:

How I stand like John hold my staffe,

and dare not shew my face.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

There comes a handsome woman in,

and shakes me by the hand:

But how my wife she did begin,

now you shall understand.

Faire dame (quoth she) why dost thou so?

he gave his hand to me:

And thou shalt know before thou go,

he is no man for thee.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

Good wife (quoth she) now doe not scould,

I will doe so no more;

I thought I might have beene so bolde

I knowing him before.

With that my wife was almost mad,

yet many did intreat her;

And I, God knowes, was very sad,

for feare she would have beat her.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

Thus marriage is an enterprise

experience doth show;

But scolding is an exercise,

that married men doe know.

For all this while there was no blowes,

yet still their tongues was talking;

And very fain would yellow hose

have had her fists a walking.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

In comes a neighbour of our towne,

an honest man, God wot:

And he must needes goe sit him downe,

and call in for his pot.

And said to me, I am the man

which gave to you your wife,

And I will doe the best I can,

to mend this wicked life.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

I gave him thankes, and bad him goe,

and so he did indeed,

And told my wife she was a shrow,

but that was more than need.

Saith he, thou hast an honest man,

and one that loves thee well;

Said she, you are a foole, good sir,

It's more than you can tell.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

And yet in truth he loveth me,

but many more beside;

And I may say, good Sir, to thee,

that I cannot abide,

For though he loves me as his life

yet now, sir, wot you what,

They say he loves his neighbours wife,

I pray you how like you that.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

Saith he, I hope I never shall

seeke fancy fond to follow,

For love is lawfull unto all

except it be too yellow.

Which lyeth like the Jaundies so,

in these our Women's faces;

That watch their husbands where they go

and hunt them out in places.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

Now comes my Neighbour's wife apace,

to talke a word or two,

My wife then meets her face to face,

and saith, dame, is it you

That makes so much of my good man,

as if he were your owne?

Then clamp as closely as you can,

I know it will be known.

Give me my yellow hose &c.

Now when I saw the woman gone,

I call'd my wife aside,

And said why art thou such a one,

that thou canst not abide

A woman for to talke with mee,

this is a wofull case,

That I must keepe no company

except you be in place.

Give me my yellow hose &c.

This maketh Batchelers to wooe

so long before they wed,

Because they heare that women now

will be their husband's head.

And seven yeare long I tarried

for Jakaman my wife,

But now that I am married

I am weary of my life.

Give me my yellow hose &c.

For yellow love is too, too bad,

without all wit or policie,

And too much love hath made her mad,

and fill'd her full of Jelousie.

She thinkes I am in love with those

I speake to passing by

That makes her wear the yellow hose

I gave her for to dye.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

But now I see shee is so hot

and lives so much at ease,

I will goe get a Souldiers coate,

and sayle beyond the Seas;

To serve my Captain where and whan,

though it be to my paine,

Thus farewell gentle Jakaman,

till we two meet againe.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

Quoth she, good husband, doe not deale

thus hardly now with me,

And of a truth, I will reveale

my cause of jealousie:

You know I alwaies paid the score,

you put me still in trust,

I saved twenty pound and more,

confesse it needes I must.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

But now my saving of the same,

for aught that I doe know;

Made Jelousie to fire her frame,

to weave this web of woe:

And thus this foolish love of mine

was very fondly bent,

But now my gold and goods are thine,

good husband, be content.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

And thus to lead my life a new,

I fully now purpose;

That thou maist change thy coat of blew,

and I my yellow hose.

This being done, our Country wives

may warning take by me,

How they doe live such jealous lives,

as I have done with thee.

Give me my yellow Hose &c.

M. L.

[12.]One hung a dirty sheet

On a pale in the street,

And there it did hang all the day

But 'twas stole at Night,

Says the Man, by this light

They have stole it clean away.

[51.]Gentlemen that approch about my Stall,

To most rare Phisicke I invite you all;

Come neere and harken what I have to sell,

And deale with mee all those that are not well.

In this Boxe heere, I have such precious stuffe,

To give it prayse, I have not words enuffe:

If any Humour in your Braines be crept,

I'le fetch it out, as if your heads were swept.

Almost through Europe I have shewne my face

In every Towne, and every Market-place—

Behold this salve, (I do not use to lye)

Whole Hospitals there have been curde thereby.

I doe not stand heere like a tattar'd slave,

My Velvet, and my Chaine of Gold I have:

Which cannot be maintained by mens lookes;

Friends, all your Towne is hardly worth my Bookes.

There stands my Coach and Horses, t'is mine owne;

From hence to Turkie is my credite knowne:

In sooth I cannot boast, as many will,

Let nothing speake for mee, but onely skill.

See you that thing like Ginger-bread lies there.

My tongue cannot expresse to any eare

The sundrie vertues that it doth containe,

Or number halfe the Wormes that it hath slaine.

If in your Bellies there be crawlers bred

In multitudes like Haires upon your head,

Within some howers space, or there about,

At all the holes you have, I'le fetch them out,

And ferret them before that I have done,

Even like the Hare that foorth a Bush doth run.

Heere is a wond'rous Water for the Eye;

This for the Stomacke: Maisters will you buy?

When I am gone, you will repent too late,

And then (like fooles) among yourselves will prate,

Oh that we had that famous Man againe,

When I shall be suppli'd in France or Spaine:

Now, for a Stater,⁸⁶ you a Box shall have

That will the lives of halfe a dozen save.

My man has come, and in mine eare he sayes

At home for me at least an hundred stayes,

All Gentlemen; yet for your Good, you see,

I make them tarry, and attend for mee.

If that you have no Money, let me know,

Phisicke of almes upon you Ile bestow.

What Doctor in the world can offer more?

Such arrant Clownes I never knew before:

Heere you doe stand like Owles and gaze on mee,

But not a Penny from you I can see.

A man shall come to doe such Dunces good,

And cannot have his meaning understood?

To talke to senselesse people is in vaine,

I'le see you hang'd ere I'le come heere againe:

Be all diseas'd as bad as Horses be

And die in ditches like to Dogges, for me!

An Old-wives-medicine, Parseley, Time and Sage,

Will serve such Buzzards in this scurvey age:

Goose grease and Fennell, with a few Dog-dates,

Is excellent for such base lowzey mates:

Farewell, some Hempton⁸⁷ halter be the Charme,

To stretch your neckes as long as is mine arme.

Puss my aple gainst thy mouse jle lay

The gam's mine jf thast ne'r a trump to play

Mister apes face thart deceiud in mee

I haue many trumpshers one dost see

For a pint of wine the drawer call

I come o prittie d'ye see this squall

Apes and Catts to play at Cards are fitt

Men & women ought to have more witt

[12.]One a Licence had got

For to begg, God wot,

And of a poor Scholar begg'd a Doller;

Thou hast Lice I do fear,

But no sence, I swear,

For to begg of a very poor Scholar.

[60.]You that do desire to hear,

Of a Virgin Race run in York-Shire,

Come and Listen, I'le declare,

Such News before, you never did hear;

For I think since the World begun

But seldom Virgins Races run.

Four Virgins that supposed were

A Race did run I now declare,

Sure such a Race was never seen,

As this at Temple Newnham Green.

In half-shirts & Drawers these Maids did run

But Bonny Nan the Race has won

A Silver Spoon this Nan obtain'd

The next a Silver Bodkin gain'd

The third that was not quite so nimble,

Was to have a Silver Thimble;

And she that was the last of all.

Nothing unto her share did fall.

In Drawers Red Ann Clayton run,

And she it was the Race that won;

Pegg Hall as I may tell to you,

Did run in Drawers that were Blew;

Honest Alice Hall that was the third,

Her Drawers were white upon my word.

A concourse great of People were

For to behold these Virgins there,

Who so well acted the Mans part,

And love a Man with all their heart;

But what means this, for well we know

Maids through the Nation all do so.

Now let us come to Bonny Nan,

Who won a Race once of a man,

In Bassing Hall Street he did dwell

His name was Luke, 'tis known full well;

And let me now declare to you,

At something else she'l beat him too.

Let none the York-shire Girls despise

Who are so Active now a days,

So brisk and nimble they do grow,

That few can match them, I do know:

Then let us stand up for York shire,

Those Country Girls I love most dear.

A York shire Girl who can outvie,

No City Girls can them come nigh,

They've Rosey Blushes in their Cheeks,

While City Girls are Green as Leeks,

This with my fancy will agree

A York shire Girl shall be for me.

Then here's a Health to a York shire Girl,

For in my eye she is a Pearl

Whose Beauty doth so charm mine eye,

That for her I would freely dye.

Her virtues do her face adorn,

And makes her look fresh as the Morn.

Now to conclude unto my friend

These Lines I freely recommend;

Advising him above the rest,

To love a Yorkshire Girl the best;

But let him use his skill for I

Will love a Yorkshire Girl until I dye

[5.]A preaching fryar there was, who thus began,

The Scripture saith there was a certaine man:

A certaine man? but I do read no where,

Of any certaine woman⁸⁸ mention'd there:

A certaine man, a phrase in Scripture common,

But no place shewes there was a Certaine Woman:

And fit it is, that we should ground our faith

On nothing more than what the Scripture saith.

[12.]A fellow once said

He would ne're keep his Bed,

Though sick, I heard him to tell it,

And his Reason was,

Nay I know the Cause,

For he still had a mind to Sell it.

[51.]One Climbing of a Tree, by hap,

Fell downe and brake his arme,

And did complaine unto a friend,

Of his unluckie harme.

Would I had counsel'd you before,

(quoth he to whom he spake)

I know a tricke for Climbers, that

They never hurt shall take.

Neighbour (sayd he) I have a Sonne,

And he doth use to climbe,

Pray let me know the same for him

Against another time?

Why thus, (quoth he) let any man

That lives, climbe nere so hie,

And make no more haste downe, than up,

No harme can come thereby.

[63.]Draw neere you Countrey Girles

and lissen unto me,

Ile tell you here a new conceit

concerning Huswifery,

concerning Huswifery.

Three Aunts I had of late,

good Huswifes all were they,

But cruell death hath taken

the best of them away,

O the best &c—

O this was one of my Aunts,

the best of all the three,

And surely though I say it myselfe

a cleanly woman was she,

a cleanly &c.

My Uncle carelesse was

in wasting of his store,

Which made my Aunt to have a care

to looke about the more,

to looke &c—

When Winter time drew on

neere to All hollow day:

My Aunt did cast her wits about

to save her Straw and Hay.

to save &c—

And like a provident woman,

as plainely did apeare,

She starv'd her Bullockes to save her Hay,

untill another yeare.

O this was one of my Aunts,

the best of all the three

And surely, though I say't myselfe

a provident woman was shee.

But as she went to see

her cattell in the fields:

When she comes home, two pound of durt

hang dragling at her heeles.

O this &c

And there she let it hang

from Candlemas to May,

And then shee tooke a hatchet in hand,

and chopt it cleane away.

O this &c

In making of a cheese

my Aunt shewed her cunning,

Such perfit skill shee had at will,

shee never used running.⁹¹

O this &c

For having strain'd her milke

in turning once about,

Shee had the best Curd that ever you saw

by the sent⁹² of the strayning clout.

O this &c

Shee was the choysest Nurse

that lived in all the West;

Her face was white as the charcoal flower

so was her neck and brest.

O this was one of my Aunts,

the best of all the three,

And surely, though I say't myselfe,

a cleanly good Nurse was shee.

The garments which she did weare

did shine like the brazen Crock,

And where she went, she bore such a sent

that the flyes blew in her frock.

O this &c

My Aunt so curious was,

as I to you may tell,

She used to make fat puddings

in markets for to sell.

O this &c

The smallest Candle end

my Aunt would never lose

It would helpe to make her puddings fat

with the droppings of her nose.

O this &c

Another trick she had

as I shall now declare,

Shee never swept the house,

about foure times a yeare.

O this &c

And when she swept the Hall,

the Parler or the Spence,

The dust was worth to her at least,

a shilling or 14 pence.

O this &c

One day my Aunt was set

by the fier side a spinning,

As she knew well what was to do

to wollen or to linnen.

O this &c

A change came in her minde,

her worke being in great hast,

She burn'd her Tow, her Wheele and all

because she would make no wast.

O this &c

My Aunt so patient was

of this I dare be bold,

That with her Neighbours shee

was never knowne to scolde.

O this &c

Her lips with lothsome words

she seldome would defile,

But sometimes she would whisper so loud

you might heare her half a mile

O this &c

Yet one condition more

unto you I will show,

Shee washt her dishes once a moneth,

and set them on a row.

O this &c

If other wise she had

but of a dish clout faile,

She would set them to the Dog to lick

and wipe them with his tayle.

O this &c

But to conclude in hast,

I hold it not amisse,

I love a cleanly huswife well

as may appeare by this.

O this was one of my Aunts

the best of all the three,

And surely, though I say't myselfe,

a cleanely woman was she.

L. P⁹³

[68.]There is a Tapster in More lane

that did a Pasty make,

All People doe of him complaine,

now for his grosse mistake:

Hee instead of Venson fine

a good fat Coult did kill,

And put in store of Clarret Wine,

his humour to fullfill.

A Peck of Flower at the least,

with six pound of Butter,

Hee made his Nighbours such a Feast

and bid them all to supper:

A curious fine fat Colt it was,

and handled daintily:

The Tapster prov'd himself an Asse,

for this his knavery.

Likewise there was a Baker too,

that lived in that place,

And he was a pertaker too,

I speak in his disgrace:

For he found Flower to make it,

I speak not in his praise,

And afterwards did bake it,

his knavery for to raise.

Likewise there was a Carman too

and he found Butter for it,

But when the Knavery Neighbours knew

they could not but abhor it;

And then there was a Cooke, Sir,

at More gate doth he dwell,

And he then under tooke, Sir,

to make the Pasty well.

Some say it eate as mellow then

as any little chick,

But I tell thee, good-fellow; then

it made the Neighbours sick:

The Tapster had his humour,

but the Neighbours had the worst,

Yet I doe hear they had good Beere

and dainty Pastry crust.

Then every joviall Blade, Sir,

that lived in that place,

Their Money freely paid, Sir,

they scorned to be bace:

They cal'd for Beere, likewise for Ale

because the Coult should swim,

And of the Cup they would not faile,

but fil'd it to the brim.

The Car-mans Wife cry'd out and said

troath 'tis good Meat indeed,

So likewise said the Chamber-maid,

when she on it did feed.

The Tapster bid them welcome then,

and Wea-Hae did he cry

You are all welcome, Gentlemen,

you'r welcome hartily.

The Glover's Wife was in a heat,

and did both pout and mump,

Because they would not let her eat

the Buttock and the Rump.

As for the merry Weaver's Wife,

I will give her her due,

She spent her Coyne to end the strife

among that joviall Crew.

This Colt was not so wholsome though

as was a good fat Hogg,

Yet one came in and told the crew

it was a mangie Dogg!

But he that told them was to blame,

and was but a silly Dolt,

The Tapster bid him peace for Shame

for 'twas a good fat Colt.

The Colt he cost me eighteen pence,

the Tapster he did say,

I hope good Folks 'ere you goe hence,

you for your Meate will pay.

Pox take you for a Rogue quoth one,

another, he fel'd oaks,

Another said he was undone!

'twas worse than Harty Choaks.

The Porter he did give nine pence

to have it in a Pye,

The People ere they went from thence

did feed most hartily:

It was the joviall Baker,

and knavish Tapster too,

The Car-man was pertaker

was not this a Joviall crew.

The Potecary he was there,

Farr and the Sexton too,

The Tapster put them in great fear,

he made them for to spue.

Now was not this a knave ingrain,

to use his Neighbours so,

When knaves are scarce, hee'l go for twain,

good People, what think you.

The Tapster he came in at last,

and gave the People vomits,

I hope, (quoth he,) the worst is past,

I have eased your foule Stomacks;

Wea-hea cry'd the Tapster then,

how doe you like my sport,

The Women said, so did the Men,

the Devill take you for't.

At Brainford as I heard some say

a mangie Dog was eate:

This was not halfe so bad as that,

and yet the fault was great:

Men of good fashon then was there

that went both fine and brave

Now all do say, that this doth heare,

the Tapster is a knave.

[12.]Why do Men not agree

With their Wives now we see

Men now are more Learn'd, and do brawl;

Tis false Concord we see

For the Masculine to agree

With the Feminine Gender at all.

[67.]Malignant characters that did portend

Duke-murthering Fate & his untimely end,

Constrain'd to die, that would have liv'd & fought

Xantippus like, but that fell Felton brought

Vncertaine quick¹⁰⁵ to a certaine end.

Vaine are designes, where one doth of his freind

Vsurpe too much, him you doe countermine

In breife the world applaudes this last designe.

It was his death, but now hee's dead & gone

Ill having heard of many, felt but one.

[5.]All things have savour, though some very small,

Nay, a box on the eare hath no smell at all.

[12.]I've known many men

Know each other now and then

Yet never the knowledge could get

Of any Man before

Though known many a score,

That ever knew himself yet.

[67.]Anne is an Angel, but what if she bee.

What is an Angel, but a Lawyer's fee.

[67.]A Welchman walking in y^e darke for feare

Some wall might hitte his face a box o' th' eare,

Strecht out his armes, y^t if such danger Came,

His hands might from his face avert y^e same.

At last betwixt his armes there came a post,

Which hitte his nose, and stroke him downe almost;

Pluter of nayles, quoth he, I did not know

My nose was longer than my armes till now.

[69.]No-Body—Why do'st thou father all thy Lies

On Me? heaping Indignities

On one that never injur'd thee?

Some-Body—My Words and Acts hurt No-Body:

No-Body—Som-Body hath belied me much,

No-Body sure hath cause to grutch.

[70.]Thou that mak'st gaine thy end, and wisely well,

Call'st a booke good, or bad, as it doth sell,

Use mine so, too; I give thee leave. But crave

For the luck's sake, it this much favour have.

To lye upon thy stall, till it be sought;

Not offer'd, as it made sute to be bought;

Nor have my title-leafe on posts, or walls,

Or in cleft-sticks, advanced to make calls

For termers,¹⁰⁶ or some clarke-like serving-man,

Who scarse can spell th' hard names; whose knight lesse can.

If, without these vile arts, it will not sell,

Send it to Bucklers-bury,¹⁰⁷ there 'twill, well.

[12.]A Man in a Hall,

His Dogg Cuckold did call;

Says a Woman stood by, 'tis a shame

To calle a Dogg so,

For I'de have you to know

'Tis a Christian bodies name.

[5.]Who woes a wife, thinks wedded men do know

The onely true content, I thinke not so;

If Woe in wooers bee, that women court,

As the word Woe in wooers doth import;

And Woe in woemen too, that Courted be,

As the word Woe in women we doe see.

[71.]Some Women are like to the Wine,

like the Sea, and like the Rocks,

But they that proves them soon may find 'em

like the Wine and Weathercocks.

But if you'l believe me,

i'le tell you true

What light Women are likeunto,

Wine, Women and Wine,

thus you may compare them too.

Women most Constant Men doth find,

not like the Sea, but like the Rocks,

They are evermore loving and kind,

not like the Wine and Weather Cocks

But if &c

Women have hooks, and women have crooks,

so hath the Wine, so hath the Wine,

Which draws great Lawyers from their books

more than the Wine, more than the Wine.

But if &c

Women have beauty and fair looks,

So hath the Wine, so hath the Wine,

Far surpassing the Lawyers books

more than the Wine, more than the Wine.

But if you'l believe me

i'le tell you true

What good Women are like unto,

Wine, Wine, Women and Wine,

thus may you compare them too.

Women are Witches when they may

so is the Wine, so is the Wine,

Which causeth men from their Wives to stray,

so will the Wine, so will the Wine.

But if you'l believe me

i'le tell you true

What light Women are like unto,

Wine, Wine, Women and Wine,

thus may you compare them too.

Women are witty when they may,

so is not Wine, so is not Wine,

And causeth Men at home to stay,

so doth not Wine, so doth not Wine.

But if &c

Women have arms for to imbrace,

more than the Wine, more than the Wine,

Which brings brave Gallants to disgrace,

so doth the Wine, so doth the Wine.

But if &c

Women most sweetly do imbrace

more than the Wine, more than the Wine,

And save their Husbands from disgrace,

so doth not Wine, so doth not Wine.

But if &c

Women's tongues are like sharp swords,

so is the Wine, so is the Wine,

Which urgeth men to swear damn'd Oaths,

so doth the Wine, so doth the Wine.

But if &c

Women's tongues do speak sweet Words,

so doth not Wine, so doth not Wine;

They can persuade from damned Oaths,

so will not Wine, so will not Wine.

But if &c

Women they do use to change,

so doth the Wine, so doth the Wine,

And often times abroad will range

when Sun doth shine, when Sun doth shine.

But if &c

Good Women they will never change,

so will the Wine, so will the Wine,

For profit they abroad will range,

Hail, Rain or Shine, Hail Rain or Shine.

But if &c

Women they will fight and brawl,

fill'd with Wine, fill'd with Wine,

Their Husbands they will Cuckolds call,

inflam'd with Wine, inflam'd with Wine.

But if &c

Good Women they will comfort all,

like the best Wine, like the best Wine,

Whatever Sorrow doth befall,

so will good Wine, so will good Wine.

But if you'l believe me,

i'le tell you true,

What good Women are like unto,

Wine, Wine, Women and Wine,

thus you may compare them to.

Now you have heard the sound of the drumme,

You may all depart like fooles as you come.

[12.]A Man being cold

In's Boots, was so bold,

To stand near the fire for remedy;

You'l burn your Spurs, says Jane,

My Boots sure you mean;

No, Sir, they are burnt already.

This wife a wondrous racket meanes to keepe,

While th'Husband seemes to sleepe but do'es not sleepe:

But she might full as well her Lecture smother,

For ent'ring one Eare, it goes out at t'other.

[5.]A friend of Durus comming on a day

To visite him, finding the doores say nay;

Being lock'd fast up, first knocks, and then doth pause,

As Lord have mercy on's¹¹⁵ had bin the cause;

But missing it, he ask't a neighbour by

When the rich Durus' (doors) were lock'd and why?

He said it was a Custome growne of late

At diner time to lock your great man's gate,

Durus' his poor friend admir'd & thought the door

Was not for State lock'd up, but 'gainst the poore,

And thence departing empty of good cheere,

Said, Lord have mercy on us is not there.