Chapter M: My Friend if you would understand, 94 (1)

_Marriage it seems is for better_, 272

N

_No more let_ Damon's _Eyes pursue_, 239

_Nay pish, nay pish, nay pish Sir_, 305

_No, no every Morning my_, 323

_Now my Freedom's regain'd_, 325

_No_, Phillis, _tho' you've all the Charms_, 338

_Now to you ye dry Wooers_, 340

O

_Once more to these Arms my_, 92

_One Night in my Ramble I_, 109

_Oh! let no Eyes be dry_, 130

_Old_ Lewis le Grand, _he raves like_, 151

_Of old Soldiers, the Song you_, 217

_Of late in the Park a fair Fancy_, 243

_Oh! how you protest and solemnly_, 316

P

Philander _and_ Sylvia, _a gentle_, 140

_Poor_ Jenny _and I we toiled_, 146

_Pretty_ Floramel, _no Tongue can_, 160

_Plague us not with idle Stories_, 204

_Poor_ Mountfort _is gone, and the_, 244

_Pretty Parrot say, when I was_, 280

S

_State and Ambition, all Joy to_, 11

_Stay, stay, shut the Gates_, 85

_Slaves to_ London _I'll deceive you_, 114

_Stay, ah stay, ah turn, ah whither_, 237

_See how fair and fine she lies_, 252

_Since_ Caelia _only has the Art_, 286

_Some brag of their_ Chloris, 307

_See, Sirs, see here! a Doctor rare_, 311

_Swain thy hopeless Passion smother_, 344

T

_There was an old Woman liv'd_, 13

_The Suburbs is a fine Place_, 27

_There can be no Glad man_, 32

_Then_ Jockey _wou'd a wooing away_, 42

_There was a Lass of_ Islington, 46

_There was a Lord of worthy Fame_, 53

_There was a Jovial Tinker_, 62

_There is a fine Doctor now come_, 71

_There was a Knight and he_, 112

_Think wretched Mortal, think_, 134

_To the Wars I must alass_, 137

_Though the Pride of my Passion fair_, 156

_Tell me ye_ Sicilian _Swains_, 175

_To the Grove, gentle Love, let_, 182

_Tell me no more of Flames in_, 183

_Tho' Fortune and Love may be_, 186

_That little Patch upon your Face_, 197

_Tho' over all Mankind, besides my_, 233

_There lives an Ale-draper near_, 259

_The Caffalier was gone, and the_, 274

_The_ Devil _he pull'd off his Jacket_, 278

_The Jolly, Jolly Breeze_, 347

_The Jolly, Jolly Bowl_, ib.

U

_Upon a Holiday, when Nymphs_, 87

W

_Where gott'st thou the_ Haver-mill, 17

_When first_ Mardyke _was made_, 65

_When Maids live to Thirty, yet never_, 99

_What Life can compare, with the_, 125

_With my Strings of small Wire_, 128

_When that young_ Damon _bless'd_, 131

_Would you be a Man in Fashion_, 154

_When first I fair_ Celinda _knew_, 157

_When busy Fame o'er all the_, 164

_Why am I the only Creature_, 165

_Where would coy_ Amyntas _run_, 172

_When gay_ Philander _left the Plain_, 177

_Wealth breeds Care, Love, Hope_, 185

_When first_ Amyntas _charmed my_, 192

_Why so pale and wan fond Lover_, 195

_When I languish'd and wish'd you_, 209

_When first I saw her charming Face_, 277

_While the Love is thinking_, 283

_When_ Jemmy _first began to love_, 332

Y

_You Master Colours pray_, 22

_Ye brave Boys and Tars_, 115

_Young_ Coridon _and_ Phillis, 126

_Your Hay it is mow'd, and your_, 142

_You happy Youths, whose Hearts_, 191

_Young Ladies that live in the_, 262

_You I love by all that's true_, 336

_You've been with dull Prologues_, 349

SONGS Compleat,

Pleasant and Divertive, &c.

VOL. V.

_The_ FOUR-LEGG'D ELDER: _Or a Horrible Relation of a_ DOG _and an_ Elder's MAID.

_By Sir_ John Burtonhead.

[Music]

All Christians and _Lay-Elders_ too,
For Shame amend your Lives;
I'll tell you of a Dog-trick now,
Which much concerns you Wives:
An _Elder's_ Maid near _Temple-Bar_,
(Ah! what a Quean was she?)
Did take an ugly Mastiff Cur,
Where Christians use to be.
_Help House of Commons, House of Peers,_
_Oh now or never help!_
_Th' Assembly hath not sat Four Years,_
_Yet hath brought forth a Whelp._

One Evening late she stept aside,
Pretending to fetch Eggs;
And there she made her self a Bride,
To one that had four Legs:
Her Master heard a Rumblement,
And wonder she did tarry;
Not dreaming (without his consent)
His Dog would ever Marry.
_Help House of Commons_, &c.

He went to peep, but was afraid,
And hastily did run,
To fetch a Staff to help his Maid,
Not knowing what was done:
He took his _Ruling Elders_ Cane,
And cry'd out _help, help, here_;
For _Swash_ our Mastiff, and poor _Jane_,
Are now fight Dog, fight Bear.
_Help House of Commons_, &c.

But when he came he was full sorry,
For he perceiv'd their Strife;
That according to the _Directory_,
They Two were Dog and Wife:
Ah! (then said he) thou cruel Quean,
Why hast thou me beguil'd?
I wonder _Swash_ was grown so lean,
Poor Dog he's almost spoil'd.
_Help House of Commons_, &c.

I thought thou hadst no Carnal Sense,
But what's in our Lasses:
And could have quench'd thy Cupiscence,
According to the _Classes_:
But all the Parish see it plain,
Since thou art in this pickle;
Thou art an INDEPENDENT Quean,
And lov'st a CONVENTICLE.
_Help House of Commons_, &c.

Alas now each _Malignant_ Rogue,
Will all the World perswade;
That she that's Spouse unto a Dog,
May be an _Elder's_ Maid:
They'll jeer us if abroad we stir,
Good Master _Elder_ stay;
Sir, of what _Classis_ is your Cur?
And then what can we say?
_Help House of Commons_, &c.

They'll many graceless Ballads sing,
Of a PRESBYTERIAN;
That a _Lay Elder_ is a thing
Made up half Dog, half Man:
Out, out, said he, (and smote her down)
Was Mankind grown so scant?
There's scarce another Dog in Town,
Had took the COVENANT.
_Help House of Commons_, &c.

Then _Swash_ began to look full grim,
And _Jane_ did thus reply;
Sir, you thought nought too good for him,
You fed your Dog too high:
'Tis true he took me in the lurch,
And leap'd into my Arms;
But (as I hope to come at Church)
I did your Dog no harm.
_Help House of Commons_, &c.

Then she was brought to _Newgate_ Gaol,
And there was Naked stripp'd;
They whipp'd her till the Cords did fail,
As Dogs us'd to be whipp'd:
Poor City Maids shed many a Tear,
When she was lash'd and bang'd;
And had she been a _Cavalier_,
Surely she had been hang'd.
_Help House of Commons_, &c.

Hers was but _Fornication_ found,
For which she felt the Lash:
But his was _Bugg'ry_ presum'd,
Therefore they hanged _Swash_:
What will become of _Bishops_ then,
Or _Independency_?
For now we find both Dogs and Men,
Stand up for PRESBYTRY.
_Help House of Commons_, &c.

She might have took a _Sow-gelder_,
With _Synod-men_ good store,
But she would have a _Lay-Elder_,
With Two Legs and Two more:
Go tell the _Assembly_ of Divines,
Tell Adoniram blue;
Tell _Burgess_, _Marshall_, _Case_ and _Vines_,
Tell _Now-and-Anon_ too.
_Help House of Commons_, &c.

Some say she was a _Scottish_ Girl,
Or else (at least) a Witch;
But she was born in _Colchester_,
Was ever such a Bitch:
Take heed all Christian Virgins now,
The _Dog-Star_ now prevails;
Ladys beware your Monkeys too,
For Monkeys have long Tails.
_Help House of Commons_, &c.

Bless _King_ and _Queen_, and send us Peace,
As we had Seven Years since:
For we remember no _Dog-days_,
While we enjoy'd our Prince:
Bless sweet Prince _Charles_, Two _Dukes_, Three Girls,
Lord save his _Majesty_;
Grant that his _Commons_, _Lords_, and _Earls_,
May lead such lives as _He_.
_Help House of Commons_, &c.

_Plain Proof Ruin'd: Or, a Grand_ CHEAT _Discover'd._

[Music]

Bold Impudent _Fuller_ invented a Plot, And all to discover the Devil knows what; About a young Bantling strangely begot. _Which no body can deny._

The better to cheat both the Fools and the Wise, He Impos'd on a Nation a Hundred of Lies; That none but a Knight of the Post could devise. _Which no body can deny._

He tells us he had the Honour to peep, In the Warming-pan where the _Welch_ Infant did sleep; And found out a Plot which was Damnable deep, _Which no Body can believe._

Then to the Wise Senate he suddenly went, Where he told all the Lies that he then could invent, For which he was Voted a Rogue by consent, _Which no Body can deny._

And tho' he was Punish'd for that his Offence, He has almost forgot it, it was so long since, Therefore the whole Game he began to Commence, _Which no Body can deny._

Then he to the Lords his bold Letters did send, And told the high Peers, that the Plot he could mend, And make it as plain, as he first did pretend, _Which no Body can deny._

He told them his Witnesses were mighty Men, That wou'd come to the Town, tho' the Devil knows when, And make _William Fuller_ once famous agen, _Which no Body can deny._

The Lords they were Generous, Noble and Kind, And allowed him Freedom his 'Squires to find, The which he will do when the Devil is Blind, _Which no Body can deny._

So the Peers they declared him a scandalous Sot, And none thinks him fit to manage a Plot, If _Newgate_ and _Tyburn_ does fall to his Lot, _There's no Body will deny._

They gave him no more time than himself did require, To find out his _Jones_ and the wandering 'Squire, But the time being come, they were never the nigher, _Which no Body can deny._

The brave House of _Commons_ next for him did send, To hear what the Block-headly Fool wou'd pretend, Who humbly request, that they wou'd him befriend, _Which no Body can deny._

One day he declar'd they were near _London_ Town, But the very next Day into _Wales_ they were flown, Such nimble Heel'd Witnessess never were known, _Which no Body can deny._

When being Examin'd about his sham Plot, He answer'd as though he had minded them not, Perhaps the Young Rogue had his Lesson forgot, _Which no Body can deny._

But after some Study and impudent Tales, Ask'd for a Commission to march into _Wales_, And be Chang'd to a Herse, as Rogues goes to Gaols, _Which no Body can deny._

But seeing his Impudence still to abound, To go search for the Men who were not to be found, They immediately sent him back to _Fleet_ Pound, _Which no Body can deny._

From the _Fleet_ to the Cart may he quickly advance To learn the true Steps of old _Oates's_ New Dance, And something beside, or it is a great Chance, _Which no Body can deny._

He has made it a Trade to be doing of Wrong, In Swearing, and Lying, and Cheating so long, For all his Life time, he's been at it ding dong, _Which no Body can deny._

_Welch Taffy_ he raves and crys Splutterdenails, He's abused hur Highness with Lies and with Tales, Hur will hang hur if e'er hur can catch hur in _Wales_, _Which no Body will deny._

_The Woman Warrior._

_Who liv'd in_ COW-CROSS _near_ WEST-SMITHFIELD; _who changing her Apparrel, entered her self on Board in Quality of a Soldier, and sailed to_ IRELAND, _where she Valiantly behaved her self, particularly at the Siege of_ CORK, _where she lost her Toes, and received a Mortal Wound in her Body, of which she since Died in her return to_ LONDON.

[Music]

Let the Females attend, To the Lines which are penn'd, For here I shall give a Relation; Of a Young marry'd Wife, Who did venture her Life, For a Soldier, a Soldier she went from the Nation.

She her Husband did leave, And did likewise receive Her Arms, and on Board she did enter; And right valiantly went, With a Resolution bent, To the Ocean, the Ocean her Life there to venture.

Yet of all the Ships Crew, Not a Seaman that knew, They then had a Woman so near 'em; On the Ocean so deep, She her Council did keep, Ay, and therefore, and therefore she never did fear 'em.

She was valiant and bold, And would not be controul'd, By any that dare to offend her; If a Quarrel arose, She would give him dry Blows, And the Captain, the Captain did highly commend her.

For he took her to be, Then of no mean Degree, A Gentleman's Son or a 'Squire; With a Hand white and fair, There was none could compare, Which the Captain, the Captain did often admire.

On the _Irish_ Shore, Where the Cannons did roar, With many stout Lads she was landed; There her Life to expose, She lost two of her Toes, And in Battle, in Battle was daily commended.

Under _Grafton_ she fought, Like a brave Hero stout, And made the proud Tories retire; She in Field did appear, With a Heart void of Fear, And she bravely, she bravely did charge and give fire.

While the battering Balls, Did assault the strong Walls, Of _Cork_ and the sweet Trumpets sounded; She did bravely advance, Where by unhappy Chance, This young Female, young Female alass she was wounded.

At the End of the Fray, Still she languishing lay, Then over the Ocean they brought her; To her own Native Shore, Now they ne'er knew before, That a Woman, a Woman had been in that Slaughter.

What she long had conceal'd, Now at length she reveal'd, That she was a Woman that ventur'd; Then to _London_ with care, She did straitways repair, But she dy'd, oh she dy'd e'er the City she enter'd.

When her Parents beheld, They with Sorrow was fill'd, For why they did dearly adore her: In her Grave now she lies, 'Tis not watery Eyes, No nor Sighing, nor Sighing that e'er can restore her.

_A Medly, Compos'd out of several_ SONGS.

[Music]

State and Ambition, all Joy to great _Caesar_,
_Sawney_ shall ne'er be my Colly my Cow;
All Hail to the Shades, all Joy to the Bridegroom,
And call upon _Dobbin_ with Hi, Je, ho.
Remember ye Whigs, what was formerly done;
And _Jenny_ come tye my bonny Cravat,
If I live to grow old for I find I go down,
For I cannot come every Day to Wooe.

_Jove_ in his Throne was a Fumbler, _Tom Farthing_,
And _Jockey_ and _Jenny_ together did lie;
Oh Mother _Roger_: Boys, fill us a Bumper,
For why will ye die my poor _Caelia_, ah why?
Hark! how thundring Cannons do roar,
Ladies of _London_ both wealthy and fair;
_Charon_ make hast and Ferry me over,
Lilli burlero bullen a lah.

_Chloris_ awake, Four-pence-half-penny-farthing,
Give me the Lass that is true Country bred;
Like _John_ of _Gaunt_ I walk in _Covent-Garden_,
I am a Maid and a very good Maid:
Twa bonny Lads was _Sawney_ and _Jockey_,
The Delights of the Bottle and Charms of good Wine;
Wading the Water so deep my sweet _Moggy_,
Cold and Raw, let it run in the right Line.

Old _Obadiah_ sings _Ave-Maria_, Sing Lulla-by-Baby with a Dildo; The old Woman and her Cat sat by the Fire, Now this is my Love d'y' like her ho? Old _Charon_ thus preached to his Pupil _Achilles_, And under this Stone here lies _Gabriel John_; Happy was I at the fight of Fair _Phillis_, What should a Young Woman do with an old Man?

There's old Father _Peters_ with his Romish Creatures,
There was an old Woman sold Pudding and Pies,
Cannons with Thunder shall fill them with Wonder,
I once lov'd a Lass that had bright rowling Eyes:
There's my Maid _Mary_, she does mind her Dairy,
I took to my Heels and away I did run;
And bids him prepare to be happy to Morrow,
Alass! I don't know the right end of a Gun.

My Life and Death does lye both in your Power,
And every Man to his Mind, _Shrewsbury_ for me;
On the Bank of a Brook as I sat Fishing,
Shall I Die a Maid and never Married be:
Uds bobs let _Oliver_ now be forgotten,
_Joan_ is as good as my Lady in the Dark;
Cuckolds are Christians Boys all the World over,
And here's a full Bumper to _Robin John Clark_.

_The_ TROOPER _Watering his_ NAGG.

[Music]

There was an old Woman liv'd under a Hill,
Sing Trolly lolly, lolly, lolly, lo;
She had good Beer and Ale for to sell,
Ho, ho, had she so, had she so, had she so;
She had a Daughter her name was _Siss_,
Sing Trolly lolly, lolly, lolly, lo;
She kept her at Home for to welcome her Guest,
Ho, ho, did she so, did she so, did she so.

There came a Trooper riding by,
Sing trolly, _&c._
He call'd for Drink most plentifully,
Ho, ho, did he so, _&c._
When one Pot was out he call'd for another,
Sing trolly, _&c._
He kiss'd the Daughter before the Mother,
Ho, ho, did he so, _&c._

And when Night came on to Bed they went,
Sing trolly, _&c._
It was with the Mother's own Consent,
Ho, ho, was it so, _&c._
Quoth she what is this so stiff and warm,
Sing trolly _&c._
'Tis Ball my Nag he will do you no harm,
Ho, ho, wont he so, _&c._

But what is this hangs under his Chin,
Sing trolly, _&c._
'Tis the Bag he puts his Provender in,
Ho, ho, is it so, _&c._
Quoth he what is this? Quoth she 'tis a Well,
Sing trolly, _&c._
Where Ball your Nag may drink his fill,
Ho, ho, may he so, _&c._

But what if my Nag should chance to slip in,
Sing trolly, _&c._
Then catch hold of the Grass that grows on the brim,
Ho, ho, must I so, _&c._
But what if the Grass should chance to fail,
Sing trolly, _&c._
Shove him in by the Head, pull him out by the Tail,
Ho, ho, must I so, _&c._

_A Trip to the_ Jubilee. _The Tune by Mr._ R. Loe.

[Music]

Come bring us Wine in plenty, We've Money enough to spend; I hate to see the Pots empty, A Man cannot Drink to's Friend: Then drawer bring up more Wine, And merrily let it pass; We'll drink till our Faces do shine, He that wont may look like an Ass: And we'll tell him so to his Face, If he offers to baulk his Glass, For we defy all such dull Society.

'Tis drinking makes us merry, And Mirth diverts all Care; A Song of hey down derry, Is better than heavy Air: Make ready quickly my Boys, And fill up your Glasses higher; For we'll present with Huzzas, And merrily all give fire; Since drinking's our desire, And friendship we admire, For here we'll stay, ne'er call Drawer what's to pay.

_The_ GOOD FELLOW.

[Music]

Let's be jolly, fill our Glasses,
Madness 'tis for us to think,
How the World is rul'd by Asses,
That o'ersway the Wise with Chink:
Let not such vain Thoughts oppress us,
Riches prove to them a Snare;
We are all as rich as _Croesus_,
Drink your Glasses, take no care.

Wine will make us fresh as Roses,
And our Sorrows all forgot;
Let us fuddle well our Noses,
Drink ourselves quite out of Debt:
When grim Death is looking for us,
Whilst we're singing o'er our Bowls;
_Bacchus_ joyning in our Chorus,
Death depart, here's none but Souls.

JOCKEY'S _Escape from_ DUNDEE; _and the Parsons Daughter whom he had Mow'd._

[Music]

Where gott'st thou the _Haver-mill bonack_?
Blind Booby can'st thou not see;
Ise got it out of the _Scotch-man's_ Wallet,
As he lig lousing him under a Tree:
_Come fill up my Cup, come fill up my Can,_
_Come Saddle my Horse, and call up my Man;_
_Come open the Gates, and let me go free,_
_And shew me the way to bonny_ Dundee.

For I have neither robbed nor stole,
Nor have I done any injury;
But I have gotten a Fair Maid with Child,
The Minister's Daughter of bonny _Dundee_:
_Come fill up my Cup, come fill up my Can,_
_Come saddle my Horse and call up my Man,_
_Come open the Gates and let me go free,_
_And Ise gang no more to bonny_ Dundee.

Altho' Ise gotten her Maiden-head,
Geud feth Ise given her mine in lieu;
For when at her Daddy's Ise gang to Bed,
Ise mow'd her without any more to do?
Ise cuddle her close, and gave her a Kiss,
Pray tell now where is the harm of this,
_Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
_And Ise gang no more to bonny_ Dundee.

All _Scotland_ ne'er afforded a Lass,
So bonny and blith as _Jenny_ my dear;
Ise gave her a Gown of Green on the Grass,
But now Ise no longer must tarry here:
Then saddle my Nag that's bonny and gay,
For now it is time to gang hence away,
_Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
_She's ken me no more to bonny_ Dundee.

In Liberty still I reckon to Reign,
For why I have done no honest Man wrong;
The Parson may take his Daughter again,
For she'll be a Mammy before it is long:
And have a young Lad or Lass of my breed,
Ise think I have done her a generous deed;
_Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
_For Ise gang no more to bonny_ Dundee.

Since _Jenny_ the Fair was willing and kind,
And came to my Arms with a ready good will;
A token of love Ise left her behind,
Thus I have requited her kindness still:
Tho' _Jenny_ the Fair I often had mow'd,
Another may reap the harvest I sow'd,
_Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
_She's ken me no more to bonny_ Dundee.

Her Daddy would have me to make her my Bride,
But have and to hold I ne'er could endure;
From bonny _Dundee_ this Day I will ride,
It being a place not safe and secure:
Then _Jenny_ farewel my Joy and my dear,
With Sword in my Hand the passage I'se clear;
_Then open the Gates and let me go free,_
_For Ise gang no more to Bonny_ Dundee.

My Father he is a muckle good Leard,
My Mother a Lady bonny and gay;
Then while I have strength to handle a Sweard,
The Parson's request Ise never obey:
Then _Sawny_ my Man be thou of my Mind,
In bonny _Dundee_ we'se ne'er be confin'd,
_The Gates we will force to set ourselves free,_
_And never come more to bonny_ Dundee.

The _Sawny_ reply'd Ise never refuse,
To fight for a Leard so valiant and bold;
While I have a drop of Blood for to lose,
E'er any fickle Loon shall keep us in hold:
This Sweard in my Hand I'll valiantly weild,
And fight by your side to kill or be kill'd,
_For forcing the Gates and set ourselves free,_
_And so bid adieu to bonny_ Dundee.

With Sweard ready drawn they rid to the Gate,
Where being denied an Entrance thro'
The Master and Man they fought at that rate,
That some ran away, and others they slew:
Thus _Jockey_ the Leard and _Sawny_ the Man,
They valiantly fought as Highlanders can,
_In spight of the Loons they set themselves free,_
_And so bid adieu to bonny_ Dundee.

_A_ SONG. _Sung by Mr._ Dogget.

[Music:

Let's sing of Stage-Coaches,
and fear no Reproaches;
for riding in one,
but daily be jogging,
while whistling, and flogging,
while whistling and flogging,
the Coachman drives on;
with a hey geeup, geeup hey ho,
with a hey gee Dobin hey ho, hey,
geeup, geeup, geeup hey ho,
geeup, geeup, geeup hey ho,
with a hey, gee Dobin hey ho.]

In Coaches thus strowling,
Who wou'd not be rowling;
With Nymphs on each side,
Still Pratling and Playing;
Our Knees interlaying,
We merrily ride.
_With a hey_, &c.

Here chance kindly mixes,
All sorts and all Sexes,
More Females than Men,
We squeese 'em, we ease 'em,
The jolting does please 'em,
Drive jollily then,
_With a hey_, &c.

The harder you're driving,
The more 'tis reviving,
Nor fear we to tell,
For if the Coach tumble,
We'll have a rare Jumble,
And then up tails all,
_With a hey_, &c.

_The Crafty Cracks of_ East-Smith-Field, _who pick't up a Master Colour upon_ Tower-Hill, _whom they Plundred of a Purse of_ Silver, _with above Threescore_ Guineas.

[Music]

You Master Colours pray draw near,
And listen to my Report;
My Grief is great, for lo of late,
Two Ladies I chanc'd to Court:
Who did meet me on _Tower-Hill_,
Their Beauties I did behold:
_Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades,_
_And plunder'd me of my Gold._

I'll tell you how it came to pass,
This sorrowful Story is thus:
Of Guineas bright a glorious Sight,
I had in a Cat-skin Purse:
The Value of near Fourscore Pounds,
As good as e'er I had told,
_Those Crafty Jades have learnt their Trades,_
_And plunder'd me of my Gold._

I saw two poor distressed Men,
Who lay upon _Tower-Hill_,
To whom in brief I gave Relief,
According to my good Will:
Two wanton Misses drawing near,
My Guineas they did behold;
They laid a Plot by which they Got,
My Silver and yellow Gold.

They both address'd themselves to me,
And thus they was pleas'd to say;
Kind Sir, indeed, we stand in need,
Altho' we are fine and gay:
Of some Relief which you may give,
I thought they were something bold;
The Plot was laid, I was betray'd,
And plunder'd of all my Gold.

Alas 'tis pity, then I cry'd,
Such Ladies of good Repute,
Should want Relief, therefore in brief,
I gave 'em a kind Salute:
Thought I of them I'll have my Will,
Altho' I am something old;
They were I see too wise for me,
They plunder'd me of my Gold.

Then to _East-Smithfield_ was I led,
And there I was entertain'd:
With Kisses fine and Brandy Wine,
In Merriment we remain'd:
Methought it was the happiest Day,
That ever I did behold;
Sweet Meat alass! had sower Sauce,
They plunder'd me of my Gold.

Time after Time to pay their Shot,
My Guineas I would lug out;
Those Misses they wou'd make me stay,
And rally the other bout:
I took my Fill of Pleasures then
Altho' I was something old;
Those Joys are past, they would not last,
I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.

As I was at the wanton Game,
My Pocket they fairly pick'd;
And all my Wealth they took by stealth,
Thus was a poor Colour trick'd:
Let me therefore a Warning be,
To Merchants both young and old;
For now of late hard was my Fate,
I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.

They got three Pounds in Silver bright,
And Guineas above Threescore,
Such sharping Cracks breaks Merchants Backs,
I'll never come near them more:
Sure now I have enough of them,
My Sorrow cannot be told;
That crafty Crew makes me look Blew,
I'm plunder'd of all my Gold.

_The Dance of the_ USURER _and the_ Devil.

[Music]

Last _Christmas_ 'twas my chance,
To be in _Paris_ City;
Where I did see a Dance,
In my conceit was very pretty--By men of France.

First came the Lord of _Pool_,
And he begun his Measure;
The next came in a Fool,
And danc'd with him for pleasure--With his Tool.

The next a Knight came in,
Who look'd as he would swagger;
And after follow'd him
A merry needy Beggar--Dancing in.

The next a Gentleman,
On him a Servant tending,
And there the Dance began,
With nimble Bodies bending--Like two Friends.

Then in a Lawyer came,
With him a Knave came leaping;
And as they Danc'd in Frame,
So Hand in Hand went skipping--To the Term.

The next a Citizen,
And he a Cuckold leading;
So round about the Room,
Their Masque they fell a Treading--And fain they would.

The next an Usurer,
Old fat Guts he came grunting;
The Devil left all care,
For joy he fell a Jumping--To see him there.

And ending then their Masque,
The Fool his Lord he carries
Upon his Back in hast,
No longer there he tarries--But left the place.

The Beggar took the Knight,
Who took it in Derision;
The Searjeant took in Spite,
The Gentleman to Prison--For all his might.

The Cuckold, silly Man,
Altho' he was abhorred:
He took the Citizen,
And led him by the Forehead--And out he ran.

The Devil lik'd it well,
His lot it was to carry;
The Usurer to Hell,
And there with him to tarry.

_The_ SUBURBS _is a fine place: To the_ Tune _of_ LONDON _is a fine Town._

[Music]

The Suburbs is a fine Place belonging to the City, It has no Government at all, alack the more the Pity; A Wife, a silly Animal, esteemed in that same Place, For there a Civil Woman's now asham'd to shew her Face: The Misses there have each Man's Time, his Money, nay, his Heart, Then all in all, both great and small, and all in ev'ry Part.

Which Part it is a thorough-fair so open and so large, One well might sail through ev'ry Tail even in a western Barge; These Cracks that Coach it now, when first they came to Town, Did turn up Tail for a Pot of Ale in Linsey Wolsey Gown.

The Bullies first debauch'd 'em, in Baudy _Covent-Garden_, That filthy place, where ne'er a Wench was ever worth a Farthing; And when their Maiden-heads are sold to sneaking Lords, Which Lords are Clapt at least nine-fold for taking of their Words.

And then my Lord, that many tries, she looks so Innocent, Believing he Infected her, he makes a Settlement; These are your Cracks, who skill'd in all kind of Debauches, Do daily piss, spue and whore in their own glass Coaches.

Now Miss turn Night-walker, till Lord-Mayor's Men she meets, O'er Night she's Drunk, next Day she's finely flogged thro' _London_ streets; After their Rooms of State are chang'd to Bulks or Coblers Stalls, 'Till Poverty and Pox agree they dying in Hospitals.

This Suburbs gallant Fop that takes delight in Roaring, He spends his time in Huffing, Swearing, Drinking, and in Whoring; And if an honest Man and his Wife meet them in the Dark, Makes nothing to run the Husband through to get the name of Spark.

But when the Constable appears, the Gallant, let me tell ye, His Heart denies his Breeches, and sinks into his Belly; These are the silly Rogues that think it fine and witty, To laugh and joak at Aldermen, the Rulers of the City.

They'd kiss our Wives, but hold, for all their plotting Pates, While they would get us Children, we are getting their Estates; And still in vain they Court pretending in their Cares, That their Estates may thus descend unto the Lawful Heirs.

Their Play-houses I hate, are Shops to set off Wenches, Where Fop and Miss, like Dog and Bitch, do couple under Benches; That I might advise the chiefest Play-house monger, I have a Sister of my own both Handsomer and Younger.

She lives not far off in the Parish of St. _Clements_, She never liv'd in Cellar nor sold Oranges and Lemons: Then why should Play-house Trulls with Paint and such Temptations, Be an Eye sore to me & more to the best part o'th' Nation.

Now you that all this while have listened to my Dity, With streightened Hands pray drink a Health unto this noble City: And let us pray to _Jove_, these Suburb folks to mend, And having now no more to say, I think it fit to end.

_The Old Woman's_ WISH.

[Music]

As I went by an Hospital,
I heard an Old Woman cry,
Kind Sir, quoth she, be kind to me,
Once more before I Die,
And grant to me those Joys,
That belong to Woman-kind,
And the Fates above reward your Love,
To an old Woman Poor and Blind.

I find an itching in my Blood,
Altho' it be something Cold,
Therefore Good Man do what you can,
To comfort me now I'm Old.
And Grant to me those Joys,
That belong to Woman-kind,
And the Fates above Reward your Love,
To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

Altho' I cannot see the Day,
Nor never a glance of light;
Kind Sir, I swear and do declare,
I honour the Joys of Night:
Then grant to me those Joys,
That belong to Woman-kind,
And the Fates above Reward you Love,
To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

When I was in my Blooming Youth,
My vigorous Love was Hot;
Now in my Age I dare Engage,
A fancy I still have got:
Then give to me those Joys,
That belong to Woman-kind,
And the Fates above Reward your Love,
To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

You shall miss of a Reward,
If Readily you comply;
Then do not Blush but touch my flesh.
This minute before I die:
O let me tast those Joys,
That belong to Woman-kind,
And the Fates above reward your Love,
To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

I Forty Shillings would freely give,
'Tis all the Mony I have;
Which I full long have begged for,
To carry me to my Grave:
This I would give to have the Bliss,
That belongs to Woman-kind,
And the Fates above reward your Love,
To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

I had a Husband in my Youth,
As very well 'tis known,
The truth to tell he pleased me well,
But now I am left alone;
And long to tast the good Old Game,
That belongs to Woman-kind:
And the Fates above Reward your Love,
To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

If Forty Shillings will not do,
My Petticoat and my Gown;
Nay Smock also shall freely go,
To make up the other Crown:
Then Sir, pray Grant that kind Request,
That belongs to Woman-kind;
And the Fates above Reward your Love,
To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

Tho' I am Fourscore Years of Age,
I love with a Right good Will;
And what in truth I want in Youth,
I have it in perfect Skill:
Then grant to me that Charming Bliss,
That belongs to Woman-kind;
And the Fates above Reward your Love,
To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

Now if you do not pleasure me,
And give me the thing I crave;
I do protest I shall not rest,
When I am laid in my Grave:
Therefore kind Sir, grant me the Joys,
That belong to Woman-kind;
And the Fates above Reward your Love,
To an Old Woman Poor and Blind.

_The Mad-Man's_ SONG.

[Music]

There can be no Glad-man compar'd to the Mad-man,
His Mind is still void of Care;
His Fits and his Fancies, are above all Mischances,
And Mirth is his ordinary Fare.
_Then be thou Mad, Mad, Mad let's be,_
_Nor shall the foul Fiend be Madder than we._

The Wise and the Witty, in Court and in City,
Are subject to sorrow and Pain;
While he that is Mad, knows not why to be Sad,
Nor has any cause to complain:
_Then be thou Mad_, &c.

We laugh at you Wise Men, that thus do despise Men,
Whose Senses you think to Decline;
Mark well and you'll see, what you count but Frenzy,
Is indeed but Raptures Divine.
_Then be thou Mad_, &c.

Let the Grave and the Wise, pluck out their Eyes,
To set forth a Book worth a Groat;
We Mad-men are quicker, grow Learn'd with good Liquor,
And Chirp a Merry note.
_Then be thou Mad_, &c.

Hast thou lost thy Estate Man, why, care not for that Man,
What Wealth may'st not fancy thy own;
More than Queen _Dido_, or her Ass-Ear'd _Midas_,
That great Philosopher's stone.
_Then be thou Mad_, &c.

_Pompey_ was a Mad-man, and so long a Glad-man;
But at length he was forc'd to flee;
For _Caesar_ from _Gallia_ beat him in _Pharsalia_,
'Cause a madder Fellow then he.
_Then be thou Mad_, &c.

'Twas this Extasie brave, that the great Courage gave,
If your Eyes were but ope'd and would see;
To great _Alexander_, that mighty Commander,
As Mad a Fellow as could be.
_Then be thou Mad_, &c.

Then around goes a Health to the Lady o'th' House,
If any Man here does forsake it;
For a Fool let him go, we know better Manners,
And so we mean to take it.
_Then be thou Mad_, &c.

There's no Night Mirth's going, nor any Lad wooing,
But Mad-men are privy unto it;
For the Stars so peep, into every such thing,
And wink upon us as you do it.
_Then be thou Mad_, &c.

When the Frost, Ice and Snow, do benumb things below,
We Chirp as merry as Larks;
Our Sack and our Madness, consumes cold and sadness,
And we are the Jovial Sparks.
_Then be thou Mad_, &c.

Has thy Mistress frown'd on thee, or thy Rival out-gone thee?
Let Sober and Wise Fellows pine;
Whilst bright _Miralind_ and goodly _Dulcind_,
And the rest of the Fairies are thine.
_Then be thou Mad_, &c.

A Mad-man needs baulk no manner of talk,
His Tongues never guilty with Treason;
But a Wise Knave would suffer, if the same he should utter,
For a wise Man's Guilt is his Reason.
_Then be thou Mad_, &c.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

A Shepherd kept Sheep on a Hill so high, _fa, la, la_, &c. And there came a pretty Maid passing by, _fa, la_, &c. Shepherd, quoth she, dost thou want e'er a Wife, No by my troth I'm not weary of my Life, _fa, la, la_, &c.

Shepherd for thee I care not a Fly, _fa, la, la_, For thou'st not the Face with a fair Maid to lie, _fa, la_, How now my Damsel, say'st thou me so, Thou shalt tast of my bottle before thou dost go, _fa, la_.

Then he took her and laid her upon the Ground, _fa, la_, And made her believe that the World went round, _fa, la_, Look yonder my Shepherd, look yonder I spy, There are fine pretty Babies that dance in the Sky, _fa, la_.

And now they are vanisht, and now they appear, _fa, la_, Sure they will tell Stories of what we do here, _fa, la, la_, Lie still my dear _Chloris_, enjoy thy Conceit, For the Babes are too young and too little to prate, _fa, la, la_.

See how the Heavens fly swifter than Day, _fa, la, la_, Rise quickly, or they will all run away, _fa, la, la_, Rise quickly my Shepherd, quickly I tell ye, For the Sun, Moon and Stars are got all in my Belly, _fa, la_.

O dear, where am I? pray shew me the way, _fa, la, la_, Unto my Father's House hard by, _fa, la, la_, If he chance to Chide me for staying so long, I'll tell him the fumes of your Bottle were strong, _fa, la, la_.

And now thou hast brought my Body to shame, _fa, la_, I prithee now tell me what is thy Name, _fa, la, la_, Why _Robin_ in the Rushes my Name is, quoth he, But I think I told her quite contrary, _fa, la, la_.

Then for _Robin_ in the Rushes, she did enquire, _fa, la, la_, But he hung down his Head, and he would not come nigh her, _fa, la, la_, He wink'd with one Eye, as if he had been Blind, And he drew one Leg after a great way behind, _fa, la, la_.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

As I was a walking under a Grove,
Within my self, as I suppos'd;
My Mind did oftentimes remove,
And by no means could be disclosed:
At length by chance a Friend I met,
Which caused me long time to tarry;
And thus of me she did intreat,
To tell her when I meant to Marry.

Sweet-heart, quoth I, if you would know,
Then hear the Words, and I'll reveal it;
Since in your Mind you bear it so,
And in your Heart you will conceal it:
She promis'd me she'd make no Words,
But of such things she would be wary;
And thus in brief I did begin,
To tell her when I meant to Marry.

When _Shrove-tide_ falls in _Easter_ week,
And _Christmas_ in the midst of _July_;
When Lawyers for no Fees will Plead,
And Taylors they prove Just and Truly:
When all Deceits are quite put down,
And Truth by all Men is preferred;
And _Indigo_ dies Red and Brown,
O then my Love and I'll be Married.

When Men and Beasts in the Ocean flow,
And Fishes in green Fields are feeding;
When Muscle-shells in the Streets grow,
And Swans upon dry Rocks be breeding:
When Cockle-shells are Diamond Rings,
And Glass to Pearl may be compared;
Gold is made of a Grey-goose Wings,
Oh then my Love and I'll be Married.

When hostesses do reckon true,
And _Dutchmen_ leave off drinking Brandy;
When Cats do bark, and Dogs do Mew,
And Brimstone is took for Sugar-candy:
Or when that _Whitsontide_ do fall,
Within the Month of _January_;
And a Cobler works without an Awl,
O then my, _&c._

When Women know not how to Scold, And Maids on Sweet-hearts ne'er are thinking; When Men in the Fire complain of Cold, And Ships on _Salisbury_ Plain fear sinking: Or when Horse-Coursers turn honest Men, And _London_ into _York_ is carried; And out of One you can take Ten, Oh then, _&c._

When Candlesticks do serve for Bells,
And Frying-pans they do use for Ladles;
When in the Sea they dig for Wells,
And Porridge-pots they use for Cradles:
When Maids forget to go a _Maying_,
And a Man on his Back an Ox can carry;
Or when the Mice with the Cat be playing,
Oh then, _&c._

Good Sir, since you have told me when,
That you're resolv'd for to Marry;
I wish with all my Heart till then,
That for a Wife you still may tarry:
But if all young Men were of your mind,
And Maids no better were preferred;
I think it were when the D----l were blind,
That we and our Lovers should be Married.

Gilderoys _last Farewel. To a New Tune._

[Music]

_Gilderoy_ was a bonny Boy,
Had Roses tull his shun,
His Stockings were made of the finest Silk,
His Garters hanging down:
It was a comely sight to see,
He was so trim a Boy;
He was my Joy and Heart's Delight,
_My Handsom_ Gilderoy.

Oh sike a charming Eye he had,
A Breath as sweet as a Rose,
He never wore a Hiland plad,
But costly silken Cloaths:
He gain'd the Love of Ladies gay,
There's none to him was Coy;
Ah, wa's me, Ise mourn this Day,
_For my Dear_ Gilderoy.

My _Gilderoy_ and I was born,
Both in one Town together;
Not past Seven years of Age,
Since one did Love each other:
Our Daddies and our Mammies both,
Were cloath'd with mickle Joy,
To think upon the Bridal Day,
_Betwixt I and my_ Gilderoy.

For _Gilderoy_, that Love of mine,
Geud faith Ise freely bought:
A Wedding-sark of Holland fine,
With Silk in Flowers wrought:
And he gave me a Wedding Ring,
Which I receiv'd with Joy;
No Lads or Lasses e'er could Sing,
_Like my sweet_ Gilderoy.

In mickle Joy we spent our time,
Till we was both Fifteen;
Then gently he did lay me down,
Amongst the leaves so green:
When he had done what he could do,
He rose and he gang'd his way;
But ever since I lov'd the Man,
_My Handsome_ Gilderoy.

While we did both together play,
He kiss'd me o'er and o'er;
Geud faith it was as blith a Day,
As e'er I saw before:
He fill'd my Heart in every Vein,
With Love and mickle Joy;
Who was my Love and Hearts delight,
_Mine own sweet_ Gilderoy.

Oh never, never shall I see,
The cause of past Delight;
Or sike a lovely Lad as he,
Transport my Ravish'd sight:
The Law forbids what Love enjoyns,
And does prevent our Joy;
Though just and fair were the Designs,
_Of me and_ Gilderoy.

'Cause _Gilderoy_ had done amiss,
Must he be punish'd then;
What kind of Cruelty is this
To hang such Handsom Men?
The Flower of the _Scotish_ land,
A sweet and lovely Boy;
He likewise had a Lady's Hand,
_My Handsom_ Gilderoy.

At _Leith_ they took my _Gilderoy_,
And there God wot they bang'd him:
Carry'd him to fair _Edenburgh_,
And there God wot they hang'd him:
They hang'd him up above the rest,
He was so trim a Boy;
My only Love and Heart's Delight,
_My Handsom_ Gilderoy.

Thus having yielded up his Breath,
In _Cypress_ he was laid;
Then for my dearest, after Death,
A Funeral I made:
Over his Grave a Marble-stone,
I fixed for my Joy;
Now I am left to weep alone,
_For my dear_ Gilderoy.

_The_ SCOTCH _Wedding_

_Between_ JOCKEY _and_ JENNY.

[Music]

Then _Jockey_ wou'd a Wooing away,
On our Feast-day when he was foo;
Then _Jenny_ put on her best Array,
When she thought _Jockey_ would come to Woo.

If I thought _Jockey_ were come to Town,
It wad be for the leve of me;
Then wad I put on beth Hat and Goown,
Because I'd seem worstsome in his Eye.

Then _Jenny_ prick'd up a brant breeght broow,
She was as breeght as onny clock;
As _Moggy_ always used to do,
For fear her Sweet-heart shou'd her mock.

Then _Jenny_ shoo tripped up the Stairs,
And secretly to shift her Smock;
But leard how loud her mother swears,
O hast away _Jenny_, and come to _Jock_.

Then _Jenny_ came tripping down the Stairs,
Oh Leard so nimbly tripped she;
But oh how _Jockey_ began to stare,
When he beheld hur fair Beauty!

Then _Jenny_ made a Curtshy low,
Until the Stairs did touch her Dock;
But Leard how loud her Mother did lough,
When shoo _Jenny_ was come to _Jock_.

Then _Jockey_ tuke _Jenny_ by the Nease,
Saying my dear Lovey canst thou loof me?
My Father is Dead and has left me Land,
Some fair ould Houses twa or three.

Thou shalt be the Lady o'er them aw,
I doot, quod _Jenny_ you do me mock;
Ad ta my saw, quoth _Jockey_, then,
I come to woo thee _Jenny_, quoth _Jock_.

_This to be said after the_ SONG.

Sea then they gang'd to the Kirk to be wad; noow they den't use to wad in _Scotchland_ as they wad in _England_, for they gang to the Kirk, and they take the Donkin by the Rocket, and say, good morn Sir Donkin, says Sir Donkin, ah _Jockey_ sen ater me, wit ta ha _Jenny_ to thy wadded Wife? ay by her Lady quoth _Jockey_ and thanka twa, we aw my Heart; ah _Jenny_ sen ater me, wit ta ha _Jockey_ to thy wadded Loon, to have and to hold for aver and aver, forsaking aw other Loons, lubberloons, black Lips, blue Nases, an aw Swiggbell'd caves? ah, an these twa be'nt as weel wadded as e'er I wadded twa in _Scotchland_, the Deel and St. _Andrew_ part ye.

_A_ Scotch SONG _made to the_ Irish JIGG, _and Sung to the King at_ Whitehall.

[Music]

Lately as thorough the fair _Edinborough_,
To view the fair Meadows as I was ganging;
_Jockey_ and _Moggy_ were walking and talking,
Of Love and Religion, thus closely Haranguing;
Never says _Moggy_, come near me false _Jockey_,
For thou art a _Whig_, and I mean to abhor thee;
Ize be no Bride, nor will lig by thy side,
For no sneaking Rebel shall lift a Leg o'er me.

_Jockey._ Fairest and Dearest,
And to my Heart nearest,
To live with thy Frowns I no longer am able;
I am so loving,
And thou art so moving,
Each Hair of thy Head ties me fast as a Cable:
Thou hast that in thee,
Ise sure to win me,
To _Jew_, _Turk_ or _Atheist_, so much I adore thee;
Nothing I'd shun,
That is under the Sun,
So I have the pleasure to lift a Leg o'er thee.

_Moggy._ Plotters and Traytors,
And Associators,
In every degree thou shalt swear to oppose 'em;
Swimmers and Trimmers,
The Nations Redeemers,
And for thy Reward thou shalt sleep in my Bosom;
I had a Dad,
Was a Royal brave Lad,
And as true as the Sun to his Monarch before me;
_Moggy_ he cry'd,
The same hour that he Dy'd,
Let no sneaking Rebel e'er lift a Leg o'er thee.

_Jockey._ Adieu then ye Crew then,
Of Protestant Blue Men,
No Faction his _Moggy_ from _Jockey_ shall sever;
Thou shalt at Court,
My Conversion Report,
I am not the first Whig by his Wife brought in favour;
Ise never deal,
For the dull Common Weal,
To fight for true Monarchy shall be my Glory;
Lull'd with thy Charms,
Then I die in your Arms,
When I have the Pleasure to lift a Leg o'er thee.

_The Fair Lass of_ ISLINGTON.

[Music]

There was a Lass of _Islington_,
As I have heard many tell;
And she would to Fair _London_ go,
Fine Apples and Pears to sell:
And as along the Streets she flung,
With her basket on her Arm:
Her Pears to sell, you may know it right well,
This fair Maid meant no harm.

But as she tript along the Street,
Her pleasant Fruit to sell;
A Vintner did with her meet,
Who lik'd this Maid full well:
Quoth he, fair Maid, what have you there?
In Basket decked brave;
Fine Pears, quoth she, and if it please ye
A taste Sir you shall have.

The Vintner he took a Taste,
And lik'd it well, for why;
This Maid he thought of all the rest,
Most pleasing to his Eye:
Quoth he, fair Maid I have a Suit,
That you to me must grant;
Which if I find you be so kind,
Nothing that you shall want.

Thy Beauty doth so please my Eye,
And dazles so my sight;
That now of all my Liberty,
I am deprived quite:
Then prithee now consent to me,
And do not put me by;
It is but one small courtesie,
All Night with you to lie.

Sir, if you lie with me one Night,
As you propound to me;
I do expect that you should prove,
Both courteous, kind and free:
And for to tell you all in short,
It will cost you Five Pound,
A Match, a Match, the Vintner said,
And so let this go round.

When he had lain with her all Night,
Her Money she did crave,
O stay, quoth he, the other Night,
And thy Money thou shalt have:
I cannot stay, nor I will not stay,
I needs must now be gone,
Why then thou may'st thy Money go look,
For Money I'll pay thee none.

This Maid she made no more ado,
But to a Justice went;
And unto him she made her moan,
Who did her Case lament:
She said she had a Cellar Let out,
To a Vintner in the Town;
And how that he did then agree
Five Pound to pay her down.

But now, quoth she, the Case is thus,
No Rent that he will pay;
Therefore your Worship I beseech,
To send for him this Day:
Then strait the Justice for him sent,
And asked the Reason why;
That he would pay this Maid no Rent?
To which he did Reply,

Although I hired a Cellar of her,
And the Possession was mine?
I ne'er put any thing into it,
But one poor Pipe of Wine:
Therefore my Bargain it was hard,
As you may plainly see;
I from my Freedom was Debarr'd,
Then good Sir favour me.

This Fair Maid being ripe of Wit,
She strait Reply'd again;
There were two Butts more at the Door,
Why did you not roul them in?
You had your Freedom and your Will,
As is to you well known;
Therefore I do desire still,
For to receive my own.

The Justice hearing of their Case,
Did then give Order strait;
That he the Money should pay down,
She should no longer wait:
Withal he told the Vintner plain
If he a Tennant be;
He must expect to pay the same,
For he could not sit Rent-free.

But when the Money she had got,
She put it in her Purse:
And clapt her Hand on the Cellar Door,
And said it was never the worse:
Which caused the People all to Laugh,
To see this Vintner Fine:
Out-witted by a Country Girl,
About his Pipe of Wine.

_The most Famous_ BALLAD

_Of King_ HENRY _the 5th; his Victory over the_ French _at_ Agencourt.

[Music]

A Councel grave our King did hold,
With many a Lord and Knight:
That he might truly understand,
That _France_ did hold his Right.

Unto the King of _France_ therefore,
Embassadors he sent;
That he might truly understand,
His Mind and whole Intent.

Desiring him in friendly sort,
His lawful Right to yield;
Or else he swore by dint of Sword,
To win it in the Field.

The King of _France_ with all his Lords,
Did hear this Message plain;
And to our brave Embassador,
Did answer with Disdain.

And said our King was yet too young,
And of but tender Age;
Therefore they pass not for his Threats,
Nor fear not his Courage.