Chapter M: My Friend if you would understand, 94 (2)

His Knowledge yet in Feats of Arms,
As yet is very small;
His tender Joints more fitter are,
To toss a Tennis-ball.

A Tun of Tennis-balls therefore,
In Pride and great Disdain;
He sent unto this Royal King,
To recompence his Pain.

Which Answer when our King did hear,
He waxed wroth in Heart;
And swore he would provide such Balls,
Should make all _France_ to smart.

An Army then our King did hold,
Which was both good and strong;
And from _Southampton_ is our King,
With all his Navy gone.

In _France_ he landed safe and sound,
Both he and all his Train;
And to the Town of _Husle_ then
He marched up amain.

Which when he had besieg'd the Town,
Against the fenced Walls;
To batter down the stately Towers,
He sent his _English_ Balls.

When this was done our King did march,
Then up and down the Land;
And not a _Frenchman_ for his Life,
Durst once his Force withstand.

Until he came to _Agencourt_,
Whereas it was his chance;
To find the King in readiness,
With all the Power of _France_.

A mighty Host he had prepar'd,
Of Armed Soldiers then;
Which were no less by just Account,
Than Forty Thousand Men.

Which sight did much amaze our King,
For he and all his Host;
Not passing Fifteen Thousand had,
Accounted with the most.

The King of _France_ who well did know,
The Number of our Men;
In vaunting Pride and great Disdain,
Did send an Herald then:

To understand what he would give,
For Ransom of his Life,
When they in Field had taken him,
Amongst the bloody strife.

And when our King with cheerful Heart,
This answer then did make;
Before that it does come to pass,
Some of your Hearts will ake.

And to your proud presumptuous King,
Declare this thing, quoth he;
My own Heart's-blood will pay the Price,
Nought else he gets of me.

Then spake the noble Duke of _York_,
O noble King, quoth he,
The Leading of this Battle brave,
It doth belong to me.

God-a-mercy Cousin _York_, he said,
I grant thee thy Request;
Then lead thou on couragiously,
And I will lead the rest.

Then came the bragging _Frenchmen_ down,
With cruel Force and Might;
With whom our Noble King began,
A fierce and dreadful Fight.

The Archers they discharg'd their Shafts,
As thick as Hail from Skie;
And many a _Frenchman_ in the Field,
That happy Day did die.

Their Horses tumbled on the Stakes,
And so their Lives they lost;
And many a _Frenchman_ there was ta'en,
As Prisoners to their cost.

Ten Thousand Men that Day was slain,
As Enemies in the Field:
And eke as many Prisoners,
Were forc'd that Day to yield.

Thus had our King a happy Day,
And Victory over _France_;
And brought them quickly under foot
That late in Pride did prance.

God save our King, and bless this Land,
And grant to him likewise;
The upper-hand and Victory,
Of all his Enemies.

_The Lady_ ISABELLA'S _Tragedy: Or, the Step-Mother's Cruelty._ _To the foregoing Tune._

There was a Lord of worthy Fame,
And a Hunting he would ride,
Attended by a noble Train,
Of Gentry on each side.

And whilst he did in Chace remain,
To see both Sport and Play;
His Lady went as she did feign,
Unto the Church to pray.

This Lord he had a Daughter Fair,
Whose Beauty shin'd so bright;
She was belov'd both far and near,
Of many a Lord and Knight.

Fair _Isabella_ was she call'd,
A Creature Fair was she;
She was her Father's only Joy,
As you shall after see.

But yet her Cruel Step-Mother,
Did Envy her so much;
That Day by Day she sought her Life,
Her Malice it was such.

She bargain'd with the Master-Cook,
To take her Life away;
And taking of her Daughter's Book,
She thus to her did say.

Go home, sweet Daughter, I thee pray.
Go hasten presently;
And tell unto the Master-Cook,
These Words which I tell thee.

And bid him dress to Dinner straight,
That fair and milk-white Doe;
That in the Park doth shine so bright,
There's none so fair to show.

This Lady fearing of no harm,
Obey'd her Mother's Will;
And presently she hasted home,
Her Mind for to fulfil.

She straight into the Kitchin went,
Her Message for to tell,
And there the Master-Cook she spy'd,
Who did with Malice swell.

Now Master-Cook it must be so,
Do that which I thee tell;
You needs must dress the milk-white Doe,
Which you do know full well.

Then straight his cruel bloody Hands,
He on the Lady laid;
Who quivering and shaking stands,
While thus to her he said:

Thou art the Doe that I must dress,
See here, behold my Knife;
For it is Pointed presently,
To rid thee of thy Life.

O then cry'd out the Scullion Boy,
As loud as loud might be;
O save her Life, good Master-Cook,
And make your Pies of me?

For pity sake do not destroy
My Lady with your Knife;
You know she is her Father's Joy,
For Christ's sake save her Life.

I will not save her Life he said,
Nor make my Pies of thee;
Yet if thou dost this Deed betray,
Thy Butcher I will be;

Now when this Lord he did come home,
For to sit down to Meat;
He called for his Daughter dear,
To come and carve his Meat.

Now sit you down, his Lady said,
O sit you down to Meat;
Into some Nunnery she's gone,
Your Daughter dear forget.

Then solemnly he made a Vow,
Before the Company;
That he would neither eat nor drink,
Until he did her see.

O then bespoke the Scullion Boy,
With a loud Voice so high;
If that you will your Daughter see
My Lord cut up the Pye.

Wherein her Flesh is minced small,
And parched with the Fire;
All caused by her Step-Mother,
Who did her Death desire.

And cursed be the Master-Cook,
O cursed may he be!
I proffer'd him my own Heart's Blood,
From Death to set her free.

Then all in Black this Lord did Mourn,
And for his Daughter's sake;
He judged for her Step-Mother,
To be burnt at a Stake.

Likewise he judg'd the Master-Cook,
In boyling Lead to stand;
He made the simple Scullion Boy,
The Heir to all his Land.

_A_ BALLAD

_In Praise of a certain Commander in the City._

[Music]

A Heroe of no small Renown, But noted for a Man of Mettle; Thro' all the Parts of _London_ Town, No Gentleman, nor yet a Clown, No grave wise man, nor stupid Beetle.

By many Deeds of Prowess done, He's gain'd a matchless Reputation; Perform'd by neither Sword nor Gun, But by what means you'll know anon, And how he work'd his Preservation.

Well mounted on a noble Steed, With Sword and Pistol charg'd before him; Altho' we must confess indeed, Of either Arms there was no need, His Conduct did alone secure him.

With's Wife upon a single Horse, T'wards _Eppin_ both rid out together; But what than ill Luck can be worse, A High-way-Man of equal Force, Alass, obstructed both their Pleasure.

With Pistol cock'd he made demand, And told them he must have their Money; The Major wisely would not stand, Nor on his Pistols clap a Hand, He was not such a Fighting Tony.

But spur'd away as swift as Wind, No Elk or Tyger could run faster; Was ever Man so stout and kind, To leave his frighted Wife behind, Expos'd to such a sad Disaster.

Her Necklace, Cloaths and Diamond Ring, The greedy Robber quickly fell to; One Petticoat he let her bring Away with Smock, and t'other Thing, To let her noble Heroe smell to.

This Slight bred sad domestick Strife, Altho' the Man's to be commended; For what's a loving handsome Wife, To a Man's Money or his Life, For all is lost when that is ended.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

As the Fryer he went along, and a poring in his Book, At last he spy'd a Jolly brown Wench a washing of her Buck,

Sing, _Stow the Fryer, stow the Fryer_
_Some good Man, and let this fair Maid go_.

The Fryer he pull'd out and a Jolly brown T----d
as much as he could handle,
Fair Maid, quoth he, if thou earnest Fire in thy A----
come light me this same Candle.
Sing, _Stow the Fryer_, &c.

The Maid she sh---- and a Jolly brown T----
out of her Jolly brown Hole,
Good Sir, quoth she, if you will a Candle light
come blow me this same Cole.
Sing, _Stow the Fryer_, &c.

Part of the Sparks flew into the _North_,
and part into the _South_,
And part of this jolly brown T----
flew into the Fryer's Mouth.

Sing, _Stow the Fryer, stow the Fryer_
_Some good Man, and let this fair Maid go_.

_The Lass of_ LYNN'S _sorrowful Lamentation for the Loss of her Maiden-Head._

[Music]

I am a young Lass of _Lynn_,
Who often said thank you too;
My Belly's now almost to my Chin,
_I cannot tell what to do_.

My being so free and kind,
Does make my Heart to rue;
The sad Effects of this I find,
_And cannot tell what to do_.

My Petticoats which I wore,
And likewise my Aprons too;
Alass, they are all too short before,
_I cannot_, &c.

Was ever young Maid so crost,
As I who thank'd him too:
For why, my Maiden-head is lost,
_I cannot tell what to do_.

In sorrowful sort I cry'd,
And may now for ever rue;
The Pain lies in my Back and Side,
_I cannot tell what to do_.

Alass I was kind and mild,
But now the same I rue;
Having no Father for my Child,
_I cannot_, &c.

I took but a Touch in jest,
Believe me this is true;
Yet I have proved, I protest,
_And cannot_, &c.

He crav'd my Virginity,
And gave me his own in lieu;
In this I find I was too kind,
_And cannot_, &c.

Each Damsel will me degrade,
And so will the young Men too;
I'm neither Widow, Wife, nor Maid,
_I cannot_, &c.

A Cradle I must provide,
A Chair and Posset too;
Nay, likewise twenty Things beside,
_I cannot_, &c.

When I was a Maiden fair,
Such Sorrows I never knew;
But now my Heart is full of Care,
_I cannot_, &c.

Oh what will become of me,
My Belly's as big as two;
'Tis with a Two-legg'd Tympany,
_I cannot tell what to do_.

You Lasses that hear my Moan,
If you will your Joys renew;
Besure, while Married, lye alone,
_Or else you at length may rue_.

I came of as good a Race,
As most is in _Lynn_'s fair Town;
And cost a great deal bringing up,
_But a little Thing laid me down_.

_The Jovial Tinker._

[Music]

There was a Jovial Tinker, Which was a good Ale drinker; He never was a Shrinker, Believe me this is true; And he came from the wild of _Kent_, When all his Money was gone and spent, Which made him look like a _Jack-a-Lent_, _And Joan's Ale is new,_ _And Joan's Ale is new Boys,_ _And Joan's Ale is new._

The Tinker he did settle, Most like a Man of Mettle, And vow'd to pawn his Kettle, Now mark what did ensue; His Neighbours they flock'd in apace, To see _Tom Tinker's_ comely Face, Where they drank soundly for a space, _Whilst_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.

The Cobler and the Broom Man, Came next into the Room, Man, And said they would drink for boon Man, Let each one take his due; But when good Liquor they had found, They cast their Caps upon the Ground, And so the Tinker he drank round, _Whilst_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.

The Rag-Man being weary, With the Burden he did carry, He swore he would be merry, And spend a Shilling or two; And he told his Hostess to her Face, The Chimney-corner was his Place, And he began to drink apace, _And_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.

The Pedlar he drew nigher, For it was his desire, To throw the Rags i'th' Fire, And burn the bundle blue; So whilst they drank whole Flashes, And threw about the Glasses, The Rags were burnt to Ashes, _And_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.

_The Second_ PART.

And then came in a Hatter, To see what was the matter, He scorn'd to drink cold Water, Amongst that Jovial Crew; And like a Man of Courage stout, He took the Quart-Pot by the Snout, And never left till all was out, _O_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.

The Taylor being nimble, With Bodkin, Shears and Thimble, He did no whit dissemble, I think his name was _True_; He said that he was like to choak, And he call'd so fast for Lap and Smoak, Until he had pawn'd the Vinegar Cloak, _For_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.

Then came a pitiful Porter, Which often did resort there, Quoth he, I'll shew some Sport here, Amongst the Jovial Crew; The Porter he had very bad luck, Before that it was ten a Clock, The Fool got Drunk, and lost his Frock, _For_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.

The bonny brave Shoe-maker, A brave Tobacco taker, He scorn'd to be a Quaker, I think his Name was _Hugh_; He call'd for Liquor in so fast, Till he forgot his Awl and Last, And up the Reckoning he did cast, _Whilst_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.

And then came in the Weaver, You never saw a braver, With a Silk Man and a Glover, _Tom Tinker_ for to view; And so to welcom him to Town, They every Man spent half a Crown, And so the Drink went merrily down, _For_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.

Then came a Drunken _Dutchman_, And he would have a touch, Man, But he soon took too much, Man, Which made them after rue; He drank so long as I suppose, 'Till greasie Drops fell from his Nose, And like a Beast befoul'd his Hose, _Whilst_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.

A _Welchman_ he came next, Sir, With Joy and Sorrow Mixt, Sir, Who being partly vex'd, Sir, He out his Dagger drew; Cuts-plutter-a-nails, quoth _Taffy_ then, A _Welchman_ is a Shentleman, Come Hostess fill's the other Cann, _For_ Joan's _Ale_, &c.

Thus like to Men of Courage stout, Couragiously they drank about, Till such time all the Ale was out, As I may tell to you; And when the Business was done, They every man departed home, And promis'd _Joan_ again to come, _When she had Brew'd anew_.

_The Soldiers Fortune: Or, the taking_ Mardyke.

[Music]

When first _Mardyke_ was made a Prey, 'Twas Courage that carry'd the Fort away, Then do not lose your Valours Prize, By gazing on your Mistresses Eyes; But put off your Petticoat-parley, Potting and sotting, and laughing and quaffing Canary, Will make a good Soldier miscarry: And never Travel for true Renown: Then turn to your Marshal Mistress, Fair _Minerva_ the Soldier's Sister is; Rallying and sallying, with gashing and slashing of Wounds Sir, With turning and burning of Towns, Sir, Is a high step to a great Man's Throne.

Let bold _Bellona's_ Brewer frown, And his Tunn shall overflow the Town; And give the Cobler Sword and Fate: And a Tinker may trapan the State; Such Fortunate Foes as these be, Turn'd the Crown to a Cross at _Naseby_: Father and Mother, Sister and Brother confounded, And many a good Family wounded; By a terrible turn of Fate, He that can kill a Man, thunder and plunder the Town, Sir, And pull his Enemies down, Sir, In time may be an Officer great.

It is the Sword does order all, Makes Peasants rise, and Princes fall; All Sylogisms in vain are spilt, No Logick like a Basket-hilt: It handles 'em joint by joint Sir, Quilling and drilling, and spilling, and Killing profoundly, Until the Disputers on Ground lie, And have never a word to say; Unless it be Quarter, Quarter, Truth is confuted by a Carter, By stripping and nipping, and ripping and quipping Evasions, Doth Conquer a Power of Perswasions, _Aristotle_ hath lost the Day.

The Musket bears so great a force, To Learning it has no Remorse; The Priest, the Layman, the Lord, Find no distinction from the Sword; Tan tarra, Tan tarra the Trumpet, Now the Walls begin to crack, The Councellors struck dumb too, By the Parchment upon the Drum too; Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub an Alarum, Each Corporal now can out-dare 'em, Learned _Littleton_ goes to rack.

Then since the Sword so bright doth shine, We'll leave our Wenches and our Wine, And follow _Mars_ where-e'er he runs, And turn our Pots and Pipes to Guns. The Bottles shall be Grenadoes, We'll bounce about the Bravado's By huffing and puffing, and snuffing and cuffing the _French_ Boys, Whose Brows have been dy'd in a Trench Boys; Well got Fame is a Warriour's Wife, The Drawer shall be the Drummer, We'll be Colonels all next Summer By hiking and tilting, and pointing and jointing like brave Boys, We shall have Gold or a Grave, Boys, And there's an end of a Soldier's Life.

_The_ MISSES _Complaint._

_Tune_, Packington's Pound.

[Music]

How now Sister _Betteris_, why look you so sad? _Gillian._ The times are so hard and our trading so bad, That we in our Function no Money can gain, Our Pride and our Bravery for to maintain.

_Bett._ True Sister, _Gillian_, I know it full well, But what will you say if such News I do tell? And how't will rejoyce you, I'll make it out plain, Will make our Trade quick, and more Money will gain.

There's none of the pitiful Tribe we'll be for, And Six-penny Customers we will abhor; For all those that will our Dominions invade, Must pay for their sauce, we must live by our Trade.

_Gil._ Good Sister if you can make this but appear, My Spirit and Senses you greatly will chear, But a Famine of Flesh will bring all things to pass, Or else we are as bad still as ever we was.

_Bett._ Lately a Counsel of Bauds there did meet, In _Cock_ and _Pye_ Alley, near _Do-little_ Street: And who was the Counsel, and what was there done; I'll make it out to you as clear as the Sun.

From _Ratcliffe-highway_, and from _Nightingale-lane_, Their Deputies come with a very fine Train: Unto these two Couple come long sided _Sue_, Is as good as e'er twang'd, if you give her her due.

Then _Tower-Ditch_ and _Hatton-Wall_ sent in their Prayers, And drest as compleatly as Horses to Fairs; With them Jumping _Jenny_ appear'd, as 'tis said, Who ne'er in her Life of a Man was afraid.

The two Metropolitans came from the Park, As arch at the Game, as e'er plaid in the Dark; Then _Lutener's_-lane a gay Couple did bring, Two better, I think, was ne'er stretch'd in hemp-string.

There was many others from Places remote, The which were too tedious for me here to note; And what was their Business I here will declare, How to keep our Trade in Repute they take care.

And first for those Ladies that walk in the Night, Their Aprons and Handkerchiefs they should be white, And that they do walk more in Town than in Fields, For that is the Place most Variety yields.

And those that are over-much worn by their Trade, Shall go in a Vessel, their Passage being paid; The Venture of Cuckolds, 'tis called by Name, And this is the way for to keep up our Fame.

And this is the Ship which the Cuckolds have brought, It lies at their Haven, and is to be frought: And thither Whores rampant, that please may repair, With Master and Captain to truck for their Ware.

And for a Supply that our trade may increase, For wanton Commodity it will grow less; We'll visit the Carriers, and take them up there, And then for their Tutering we will take care.

In this we shall ease all the Countries to do't, And do our selves Pleasure and Profit to boot; For one that is crack'd in the Country before, In _London_ will make a spick and span Whore.

There's many more Precepts which they did advise, But these which I'll give you here shall suffice: And when you have heard them, I think you will say, We ne'er were more likely to thrive in our way.

_Some Orders agreed upon at a General Consultation of the_ Sisterhood _of_ Nightingale-lane, Ratcliff-high-way, Tower-Ditch, Rose-mary-lane, Hatton-Wall, Saffron-hill, Wetstone's-Park, Lutener's-lane, _and other Places adjacent, for the general Encouragement and Advancement of their Occupation._