Chapter M (2)

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

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

The

=Picture of an English Antick,=

with a List of his ridiculous Habits
and apish Gestures.

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

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

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

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

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

5. Long haire, with ribands tied in it.

6. His face spotted.

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

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

9. His band lapping over before.

10. Great band strings, with a ring tied.

11. A long wasted dubblet unbuttoned half way.

12. Little skirts.

13. His sleeves unbuttoned.

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

15. His breeches unhooked ready to drop off.

16. His shirt hanging out.

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

18. His belt about his hips.

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

20. Many dozen points at knees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nov. 18, 1646.

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

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

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

_A new married Bride._

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

_Of finding a hare._

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

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

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

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

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

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

_In Richardum quendam, Divitem, Avarum._

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

The Dumb MAID,[F. 62]

or, the

Young Gallant Trappan'd.

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

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

Licens'd and Enter'd according to Order.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Footnote 62: For tune, see Appendix.]

[Footnote 63: A hazel switch.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

[37.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It goes on with a fabulous supernatural pedigree of _Boy_.

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

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

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

Morrall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Footnote 66: These italics are mine.]

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

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

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

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

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

[Footnote 68: A sharper.]

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

_On_ Bond _the Usurer_.

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

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

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

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

THE POETS DREAM[F. 69]

OR,

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

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

To the Tune of _Sawny_ &c.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Footnote 69: For tune, see Appendix.]

[Footnote 70: Fir-trees.]

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

_The dumbe wife recovered her speech._

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_A Courtier and a Scholler meeting._

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

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

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

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

The little Barly-Corne.[F. 73]

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

To the tune of _Stingo_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Printed in London for E. B.

[Footnote 73: For tune, see Appendix.]

[Footnote 74: ? Sneak.]

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

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

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

_The Tanner and the Butcher's dogge._

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

_Cede majoribus._

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

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

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

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

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

_Win._ Yes forsooth.

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

_Win._ Uh, uh.

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

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