Chapter M (3)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Pure._ Slander not the _Brethren_ wicked one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

_Why women weare a fall._

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

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

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

[Footnote 81: Pillow case.]

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

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

The poore man payes for all.

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

To the Tune of _In slumbring sleepe I lay_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FINIS.

Printed at London for H. G.

[Footnote 82: Strutting.]

[Footnote 83: Seize.]

_A Witty answer of a Countrey fellow._

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FINIS.

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

[Footnote 84: For tune, see Appendix.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Footnote 87: Hempen.]

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

[58.]

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

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

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

Catalogues are distributed by the Booksellers of _London_ & _Westminster_.

CONDITIONS OF SALE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE VIRGIN RACE

_Or, York-shires Glory_.

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

Tune is, _a New Game at Cards_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FINIS

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

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

_Quidam erat._

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

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

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

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

Mercurius Matrimonialis

or

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

(procured by one of their own Sex)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SELDOME CLEANELY[F. 90]

or

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

To the Tune of _Upon a Summers time_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FINIS.

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

[Footnote 90: For tune, see Appendix.]

[Footnote 91: Rennet.]

[Footnote 92: Scent.]

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

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

The Astrologer's Bugg Beare.

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

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