Grammatical drollery consisting of poems & songs wherein the rules of the nouns & verbs in the accendence are pleasantly made easy, for the benefit of any that delight in a tract of this nature
Hickes, William, fl. 1671.
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POEMS and SONGS.
A Mock-Song to Beauty.
MY Love is a pretty Lass
As any's in all the Town;
Her Face doth shine like Brass,
And her Skin of a Tawny-brown.
Her Hair's of a lovely red,
With Horsegirt-Ribbands tied,
And hangs about her head
Like Daglocks beautified.
Her Forehead is low and rough,
Just like a pleated Gown;
Her Ears are large and tough,
And always are hanging down.
Her Eyes are sunk full low
Into her pretty head;
From whence a Cream doth flow
That over her face doth spread.
The one of her Eyes is large,
The other is very small;
Her Mouth it is like a Barge,
For length and breadth and all.
Her Nose of a Scarlet hue,
Well set with Jems about,
And all do appear in view
To adorn her delicate Snout.
Though her Nose and Chin did jar,
Yet now they are perfect friends;
And though at distance were,
Now touch at both the ends.
Her Teeth they are black and blue,
Her Tongue than the Cows more neat;
Her Lips of a silver hue,
And thatcht with Hair compleat.
Her Neck it is thick and short,
Just like our brindled Cow;
And when she sings for sport,
She grunts like our old Sow.
Her Shoulders and Arms are strong,
And both of a lusty growth;
To which her Hands do belong,
That are Shoulders of Mutton both.
Her Back it is high and plump,
That some have her Credit defil'd,
By saying, that above her Rump
She always did seem with Child.
There's never a Girl in Town
Of her Breasts can make such brags;
For they still are dangling down
Like half-fill'd Pudding-bags.
Of her Hanches she often boasts,
Because they are very fair;
Her Thighs are two Windmil-posts,
So they'd need for the weight they bear.
Her Legs are lovely and great,
Which doth her Credit maintain;
And therefore must needs be neat,
Being born in Crooked-lane.
And now for her pretty Feet,
They can her Arms display;
But to see how her Heels do meet,
Now her Toes are worn away.
Having heard the parts of my Dame,
I now do conclude my Droll;
And having no Toes, her name
Is call'd Stump-footed Moll.
In praise of the Taylors trade.
THe Taylors Trade is antient, all we know;
For in the first of times they learnt to sow,
And made them Breeches then, and Aprons too:
But was not worth a fig, to what 'tis now.
Page 34Threadneedle-street likewise to all is known
To be the antient'st Street in London-Town.
The Cross-leg'd Signe was there the first set up,
And likewise there was first a Taylors shop.
Their Arms are antient too, and well them fits;
Which is three Rampant Lice and a Cluster of Nits:
Which Coat of Arms, with something else, hath made
More Gentlemen of that, than any Trade.
And now I do believe you'd know the cause;
Have patience, and I'll tell you how it was:
An antient Gentleman that was decay'd,
(Who once had been a rich and ruffling Blade)
Brought's Doublet to mend to a Taylors house,
On which were creeping many a lusty Louse;
But one more large and rampant than the rest,
Which made the Taylor think he was the best
And chief of all that sharp Back-biting Crew;
Which he took up, and cut him just in two
With his new Shears, and gave his Wife one half
To eat, and th'other half did eat himself.
And from that time did verily think that he
Was a Gentleman, and of antiquitie,
Because that Louse he knew had suckt before
Of the antient Gentlemans blood such store.
And's Wife likewise did verily think she was
A Gentlewoman too for that very cause:
And so did write themselves, do all we cou'd,
Because they eat so much o'th' gentile bloud.
Nay, his man did say he was half a Gentleman,
Having lickt the Shears that cut the Louse in twain.
Then he drank hard, which you know doth make us
Gentlemen all that are friends to Bacchus:
And when others would leave half i'th' Cup,
Yet he would always wind his Bottoms up.
Page 35Nay, those which drank not, he would say were dull,
And tell 'em still, 'twas but a Thimble-full,
He could not drink to mend his Bloud, I'm sure;
You know his Bloud was good enough before.
When other Gentlemen would say they were
Gentlemen of such and such a Shire,
Yet he excels them all in spight of their Ears;
Theirs came from one, his from a pair of Shears.
And whereas other men did call the Court
Behind their house, a Backside; he, in sport,
Commands them all to call't a Yard: for he knew
His Wife would be well-pleas'd with that name too:
And please her he must in all his discourse,
Because the grey Mare was known the better Horse.
And likewise knew it did belong to's Trade;
Without a Yard, no measure could be made.
Some say, by Surgery too he was grown rich:
For never man did better cure a Stitch.
Your Lawyers likewise much a Taylor praise,
Saying, 'tis an excellent Trade now-a-days;
Nay, best for a Lawyer in all the Land,
'Cause he has still so many Suits in hand.
One askt him why he marri'd a Northern woman?
He told him, in their Trade 'twas very common,
Because their Needle still to th' North doth tend;
And as their Needle guides, so they must bend.
He hath a Goose too, that flutters still so high,
And is so proud, that it presses all't comes nigh:
And 'tis a Goose that ne'r had more than one
Wing at all (when that's off, he'll have none.)
Other Geese do swim, but these, Pox rot 'um,
Do still i'th' water sink down to th' bottom.
Besides his Yard, he hath another Measure
Which he doth clip and alter at his pleasure.
Page 36The Barbers Trade is not so gentile as it,
Because they stand, but Taylors always sit
Still at their work: which was the cause, I think,
A fellow said (when he was got in drink)
That a Taylors feet stunk the worst of any
Trade whatsoever; (although there be many)
And reasons gave us why they were so strong,
Because they're under his breech all day long.
A Taylor sent the other day (I know him)
Unto a man for ten pounds he did owe him.
What makes thy Master send thus every day?
I hope he does not think I'm running away?
No, Sir, though you are not, I'll tell you true,
Yet he must do't within a day or two.
A Taylor once was bid to make a Gown;
And who d'ye think 'twas for? 'twas for the Moon:
And as he tri'd it still (as all men say)
It was too big or little every day.
The Taylor then was not in fault, you see;
But 'twas indeed the Moon's inconstancie.
How can't be otherways, being stuft with Lunacie,
And commonly light-headed used to be?
There is a Proverb which has been of old,
And many men have likewise been so bold,
To the discredit of the Taylors Trade,
Nine Taylors goes to make up a man, they said.
But for their credit I'll unriddle it t'ye:
A Draper once fell into povertie,
Nine Taylors joyn'd their Purses together then,
To set him up, and make him a man agen:
Which made him vow, nay bound it with some Oaths,
That none but Taylors hereafter should make his Cloths.
Page 37The POSTSCRIPT.
Thus have you heard the Taylor o're and o're,
And more I think than ere you heard before;
And when he works, doth still fit on's breech,
But yet to all he still went thorow stitch.
And though some Taylors take delight in cupping,
Yet Breadstreet is their best place to set up in.
To the Tune of Well, well, 'tis true, That I'm fallen in love, and 'tis with you.
Go, go, you Slut,
That day and night art cramming of thy Gut
This sad and pinching year:
How can this mean Estate of mine
Supply that Gulphlike Paunch of thine,
Now every thing's so dear?
Remember once, you Jade, at Islington
You eat, besides of Bread and Cheese, a dozen Cakes alone
Once we did go
Abroad into the Fields to walk, you know;
And then, forsooth, you cri'd,
You were so faint for want of Meat,
And must have something then to eat,
Or else you should have di'd.
Yet thou didst eat, when we came out a door,
A Pidgeon-pye the crust and all, but half an hour before.
Nay, more, you Swine:
When I invited once some Friends of mine,
You presently did fall
Upon the Meat was on the Spit,
And ere that we could eat a bit,
Thou hadst devour'd it all.
Retrench this gormandizing trade, you Whore,
Or else I vow by mighty Jove, I'll turn thee out a door.
A Song on a Lady and her Chamber-Maid.
A Chamber-Maid was got with Child;
For which her Lady did call her Whore,
And said that sh'ad her house defil'd,
And vow'd she'd turn her out a door.
Who got the Child, says she, you Jade?
Your Husband, and please you, Madam.
Why where, you Whore? Forsooth, she said,
In the Trucklebed a Hadham.
Why where was I? I'll know the truth:
Come tell me, or else I'll make ye.
In the high bed fast asleep, forsooth,
And I was afraid to wake ye.
Why did you not cry out, you Drab,
When first you saw he begun it?
Truly, forsooth, I was never a Blab
Of my Tongue: Wou'd you a done it?
And besides, forsooth, you know
That I your humour know too well,
That if you're suddenly wakt, you'll throw
And tear like to a Fiend of Hell.
Nay, you'll cry out with loud Alarms,
And fling what your fingers touches,
That I'd rather be in my Masters Arms,
Than ever to come in your Clutches.
Why did you not then sooner go,
You errant Quean, before 'twas known?
Truly, Madam, 'tis even so,
Because that you had none a your own.
And indeed, Madam, the truth to tell,
I think I well did plot it,
Imagining you would use it well
For his dear sake that got it.
A Song called the Hasty Wedding.
The Tune is the Gunfleet.
I'm in love, says Noll: Indeed, says Doll!
But prethee say with who?
I fear, says he: Come speak, says she:
Why then it is with you.
You jest, says Doll! Good faith, says Noll,
You do me wrong, my Dolly.
But men, says she, to flattery be
Too much addicted, Nolly.
I vow, says Noll, I love thee, Doll:
But pray, Sir, tell me where?
At my heart, says he: At your heart, says she!
And do you love me there?
'Tis true, says Noll: But you, says Doll,
Do love another better.
Who is't, says he? Why Nan, says she;
You t'other day did treat her.
Fie, fie, says Noll! Why, why, says Doll?
Why Nan did come to me,
And pray'd me write that very night
To her Sweet-heart Humfrey.
What then, says Doll? Why then, says Noll,
I gave her a pint of Wine, Doll.
What else, says she? Why Cakes, says he,
And yet no Miss of mine, Doll.
But yet, says Doll, my Father, Noll,
Does say y'are poor of late.
How! poor, says he! Yes, poor, says she,
And must not be my Mate.
I have, says Noll: What hast, says Doll?
Why I have a House and Land, Doll.
Where is't, says she? Why 'tis, says he,
At the lower end o'th' Strand, Doll.
What Goods, says Doll? All sorts, says Noll,
That in a house is common.
Indeed, says she! And fit, says he,
For any honest woman.
Page 41How, how, says Doll! Good faith, says Noll,
'Tis true; and all are my own:
And a Feather-bed, with Curtains red,
For thee and I to lie on.
Then 'tis, says Doll, a Match, my Noll,
Let Father and Mother chide.
Is't done, says he? 'Tis done, says she;
And I will be thy Bride.
Let's kiss, says Noll: Content, says Doll;
And there's another for ye.
When wed we, says he? To morrow, says she.
We will no longer tarric.
Come then, says Noll, we'll go, my Doll,
And see the house before;
And then, says he: What then, says she?
Thou't find I am not poor.
Agreed, says Doll; and—And when, says Noll,
To morrow we are wedded,
Thy Parents shall, and Kindred all,
Then come and see us bedded.
Iter Orientale: or, a Voyage from London to Chipping-Unger in Essex; performed by some Gentlemen in August 1674.
HEnceforth I never more will hunger
To ride again to Chipping-Ʋnger
In Essex County, as I hear,
And month of August every year.
Page 42Not but we had a gallant Feast,
And Meat most delicately drest,
As Turky, Pig, Goose; and the chief
Was an excellent piece of Beef,
So large, it made the Spit to bend,
And a yard distance from either end;
And when't came up, there were two able
Men to bring it to the Table:
With Pullets, Capons, and on my word,
All that time o'th' year cou'd afford.
And then we did excel in Drink
Of several sorts. Stay, let me think.
And first we had good humming Beer,
The best, I think, in all the Shire:
And store of Nappy Ale likewise,
Which quickly did our brains surprize:
But then of Wine we had such store,
I thought one house could hold no more.
The Tables fill'd with Bottles were,
We scarce cou'd set Tobacco there;
That one to ask was then so bold,
Whether the Bottles were to be sold?
And yet to make up more variety,
Of Friends there was a brave society,
So truly merry and so free,
I was ne'r in better Companie.
Handsome, witty, and good humour too;
Faith, and that's much in so great a Crew,
That every thing there spoke or done,
Was Object of Mirth to every one:
And all resolv'd there to be merry;
But alas, poor Captain, he was weary,
And gauled was so much, that he
Cou'd find no part of's Rump was free.
Page 43This being so, you'll ask me then,
Why I'll no more to Ʋnger agen:
Which to unriddle, I will not fail;
But now comes out a doleful Tale
That ever yet was heard before,
His Buttocks being so vilely tore.
The Horse whereon he then did ride,
Wore Whalebone-Bodies on either side:
For the Spur had made the Ribs appear,
As if you had Glass-windows there.
And then he had so sweet a trot,
By that time I two miles had got,
As if it were for the very nonce:
For it dislocated all my bones.
And then his trotting was so high,
He'd mount me up; then by and by
Wou'd let me down with such a jolt,
I had much ado to keep my holt.
He once did lift me up so high;
(But here you'll think I tell a lye)
Far be't from me; I'm not so given:
For I heard the Angels sing in Heaven.
You may think I hyperbolize,
But I hope you do not think 'em lyes:
For at that time I did bestraddle
Such a fashion'd uncouth Saddle:
For such a one it chanc'd to be,
From which, good Lord, deliver me
From such another: For allagree
'Twas made of Deal-boards certainlie;
But some a better name did give it,
Saying, 'twas Wainscot; you may believe it:
And I began to think so too.
It was so hard, I swear to you,
Page 44I thought't had lain in water or mud
That turns all things to stone that's wood:
For I did find a rising bump
O'th' top, which often hit my Rump;
And went to cut it, but on my life,
It soon turn'd the edge of my Knife.
I hope you think, when on't I rid,
A pleasant Saddle I bestrid.
In Stirrup-leathers I was blest,
'Cause they were like to all the rest:
For they in pieces were so plenty,
I think in number almost twenty;
They were so patcht in knots and bumps,
And other risings just like lumps,
That I protest I broke my knuckle
To draw the Leather through the Buckle.
The Buckles and Stirrups were with rust
So eat, that all that saw 'em, must
Seek for a Faith to believe that ere
They were iron, so unlike they were.
Yet I believe that I am able
To prove, that the straps o'th' Saddle
Had once been Leather, when I had found
Two or three holes both round and sound.
And for my Girts, I do protest,
I cannot tell whether 'tis best
To call 'em so: for one I found
Not square, but excellently round;
Which makes me think that it was made
Just when the Roundheads drove their trade,
For its antiquity and make.
But for the other, if I may speak
My mind freely, the breadth's about
A quarter and nail, I dare avow't;
Page 45By which you see they were not brothers,
Being so unlike one another.
And for the Bridle, this I'll say,
'Twas onely for a Lord-Mayors-day
For an Alderman to ride upon,
If then he cou'd get such a one.
Being thus accommodated, I
Did ride by th' Coach triumphantly,
Unto the credit then of all
My Dames that rode there, both great and small.
But now comes out the saddest Tale,
Which my poor Rump does still bewail:
For never Rump was served so,
When they to Ʋnger ere did go.
I'd rather to endure a whipping,
Than ride again to Ʋnger-Chipping:
I'm sure I shou'd have lesser whales
Than I had then upon my Tail.
And well they may Chipping call it;
For't chipt my Nock, and did so maul it
In many Chips and corner'd cuts,
I cou'd not help it for my Guts:
So gaul'd it was in many places,
That I was forc'd make many faces
(Whensoever I got it drest)
And yet no Painter, I protest.
Sometimes 'twou'd itch, and then I'd scrat;
Then turn a this side, and then a that:
Sometimes 'twou'd smart, then must I
Not sit at all, but stand or lie.
Some seeing me lean a one side, sware
That I was whispering to the Chair.
Others askt me why I pensive sate,
Saying, 'twas so with me but a late.
Page 46Nay, I heard one whisper through a Gap,
That certainly I had got a Clap.
And when I kneel'd against a Chair,
They'd ask me if I were at Prayer.
And when for ease I on my Belly lay,
Sure you're asham'd to shew your face, they'd say.
And when that I came through a Town
From Ʋnger, says a Country Clown,
Like Crookbackt Richard I did ride,
When I turn'd my Rump up a one side.
And at another Town, a fellow sware
I was like the Bunchbackt Taylor there.
And when to ease my Nock I lay
On the Horse-neck, then they say,
(When I was in that pitiful case)
Sure that man's a running a Race.
And as through Stratford-Bow I came,
Says one, How d'ye, Sir? are you lame,
Or are you gaul'd, and is it sore?
Ah, friend, thought I, than all before,
Thou speakest truest: He bid me pick
From off a Tree an Elder-stick,
And put into my Pocket; and swore
That at that time 'twou'd gaul no more.
Troth, friend, thought I, I'm o'thy mind:
For I am so much gaul'd behind,
There's no place free, it is so tore,
How cou'd it then gaul any more?
Thus you may see my desperate case
Being so, to jeer me to my face.
Then I do every man advise
Not to ride as I did, if he be wise:
Which to prevent, let him never paddle,
As I did then, on such a Saddle.
Page 47Perhaps you'll ask why I did not look
Before I leapt: I swear upon a book
I cou'd not help it; the horse was sent
(As 'twere to me in complement)
And left him at my Lodging-door,
When all the rest were gone before:
So Hobsons choice was left to me,
Either this or none, most certainlie.
Then every one began to say,
They did not pity me that day:
For had I gallopt as I ought,
I had to the Town more Leather brought;
But I, forsooth, must often tarry
For my Dog Tango, that was weary.
Sure I think it was good nature
Not to leave a poor dumb Creature
In a strange place: for I'll swear
He ne'r did speak as I did hear;
And being dumb, how cou'd he then
Beg relief from Country-men?
For some an 'um are like a Hog,
To respect him no more than a Dog;
Unless that he at Barking had bin
In Essex too, with some of his Kin,
Who might relieve him for's barkings sake,
Although poor thing he cou'd not speak:
For Barking was his Dialect; and how
Can Essex-men understand Baw waw?
So Tango might be starved in
A Country where he ne'r had bin.
His feet were surbated, and he sick;
Which toucht poor Tango to the quick.
Thus have you heard most certainly,
The Story of my Dog and I.
Page 48I now must speak of two Comrades
Which furnisht were with arrant Jades,
As we our self was furnished,
Except the Saddle on which I rid.
The young mans horse came from a Butcher,
Who kickt when he did not touch her.
His horse was raw, and lean, and tall,
He lookt like Alexander on's Bucephal.
I cannot say he lost much Leather,
Yet brought home less than he carri'd thither.
And's Comrade too that with him went
Home, did confess his Rump was rent.
Their Rumps were bad, but mine was worse,
That we all may say, God a mercy Horse.
Thus have you heard our Iter Orientale,
Which to us three was very male;
But I the worst of all that Jovial Crew:
So iterum, atque iterum, I bid ye adieu.
A new Song.
I Once for a fancy, did love pretty Nancy,
Till Jenny came into the place;
Who when I did see, there's no man cou'd be
Ever so took with a face.
But when at a Ball I saw pretty Mall,
Methoughts she tript it so fine,
I felt such a smart, that I us'd all my art
By presents to make her mine.
This lasted a day, until at a Play
I saw my beautiful Jone;
Which made me to think I was just at the brink
Of marriage with her or none.
This humour did last until I did cast
My eyes on my pretty fine Kate;
My heart was so caught, that I verily thought
She should have been my Mate.
But after a while, I seeing the smile
Of my dear bonny sweet Betty;
Which made me to start, that I thought in my heart
That none cou'd ere be so pretty.
But being a Guest at a Wedding-feast,
I there sweet Susan espide;
And truth for to tell, I likt her so well,
I thought to a made her my Bride.
But after a day, at a place where I lay,
I chanc'd fair Nelly to see;
That I never was so in love with a Lass,
She was so airy and free.
But yet for all this, I soon left that Miss,
When I heard sweet Abigail's voice;
She tril'd it so well, I then 'gan to smell
That here I should make my choice.
And this did remain for a day or twain,
Till I heard fair Dolly to play
So well on the Lute, I then 'gan my sute
For marriage with her the next day.
Fair Hester at last had my heart so fast,
I resolv'd to make her my own;
But a little after I handsomely left her,
For my humour of love was gone.
Yet I never will grieve, for I still do believe
I've a Mistriss yet to come;
Or else I must say, I'm in love ev'ry day;
But I cannot tell with whom.
A new SONG.
LEt's strive to improve our Talent of Love,
'Tis that which can give us content;
We'll banish those fears that usher in cares,
And give to our Pleasures a vent.
And when we begin to be stupid within,
We'll march to the Tavern amain:
For a cup of good Sack will supply what we lack,
And restore us to Pleasures again.
For Sorrow and Care does but bring in despair,
And makes us like Drones to sit;
But Cupid and Bacchus will every day make us
Masters of Pleasure and Wit.
A new SONG.
PRethee, Caelia, tell me why
Thou'st been so strange of late?
What Object now has took thy eye,
That I am thus so soon laid by,
As one that's out of date?
Thou knowst my kindness still was such,
As none cou'd ere be more.
And which is now in Gallants much,
I in my promise still kept touch,
Which no man did before.
Is it because thou lov'st to range
And take thy swing about?
If it be so, methinks 'tis strange
That any one a friend should change
For one o'th' common Rout.
Or else dost think my Fortune lean,
And cannot entertain
Thee in a handsome Miss-like mean?
(Though I confess 'tis often seen)
Faith, Caelia, this is vain.
But if't be Pride, then Caelia, know
I gave thee thy renown,
And made thy Infant-fortunes grow,
When thou were't in esteem so low,
Thy name was scarcely known.
Had not my Pen advanc'd thy fame,
and gave it wings to flye,
Thoud'st been as one without a name,
And in thy Reputation lame
To every vulgar eye.
Then, Celia, since I've made thee great,
I'll take thee down agen,
And make thy Glories so retreat,
That all shall take thee for a Cheat,
And where's poor Celia then?
Thus art thou brought, by foolish pride,
Into this low estate;
Hadst thou been kind, thou hadst me ti'd
To make thee at the last my Bride:
But, Celia, now't's too late.
A new Song:
The Tune is, Mr. Staggins his Minuit which he made for the Ball at Whitehal, 1673.
GOne is my Dearest, she I so admired;
Never was man so dejected before:
She so much Beauty had, all hearts she fired;
No one cou'd ever be Mistriss of more.
But when her charming Eyes
Once let their glances flie,
Page 53None cou'd withstand 'em, but all fell in love.
Nay, some did think she was
Clad in that humane dress,
And by the Gods sent down from above.
And though so fair she was, never did woman
Wear so much modesty still in her face;
And of so great a Wit, that it was common
Still to deliver her words with a grace.
But when her Lute she took,
She on't so sweetly strook,
Never did Mortals such harmony hear;
We thought the Heavenly Quire
All met and fixt in her,
And then did wish our selves nothing but ear.
Then welcome Sadness, and farewel all Pleasure,
Nothing is left for me now but despair;
And of the Gods I beg some little leisure
Onely to shed on her Grave a sad tear;
And there deplore the fate
Of my dear peerless Mate.
That after-ages may give her her due,
Also I beg to have
This Motto on my Grave,
Never, O never died Lover so true.
A new SONG.
The Tune is, The Duke of Lorains March.
ROuse up, Boys; Ease destroys
Every martial wight:
Then arm apace, the Foes increase,
And all prepar'd to fight.
The Trumpets sound amain;
Then let's away to win the day,
That every one may honour gain.
It is decreed, Delay does breed
Danger still in War;
Then let us go to meet the Foe,
Before they advance too far.
Dub a dub a dub, Dub a dub a dub;
The Drums a Charge do beat:
Then let us fight from morn till night,
Until we make 'em all retreat.
And all that can, must charge i'th' Van,
Until you've broke their Rank;
If'twill not do, then you must go
And charge 'em in the Flank.
And then you must be sure, Boys,
To charge 'em in the Rear,
Until they flie; then you must cry,
Away they run, they run for fear.
When that is done, and Field is won,
The Plunder is your own;
The Spoils in War, most lawful are,
To every man 'tis known.
And then you may with freedom, Boys,
Drink and take your ease;
Or with a Miss to court and kiss,
As you your fancy mean to please.
To which, the two last Verses were lately added.
NO scornful Beauty ere shall boast
She made me love in vain;
Those men are fools, who once are crost,
If ere they love again.
To whine and pine, I never can,
And tell you I must die;
It is so much beneath a man,
I'll never do't, not I.
Perhaps some puling fool may weep,
And court her with a Tear;
And at her footstool cringe and creep,
And idolize her there.
Such Coxcombs do deserve to be
Inslav'd by women still.
My Soul's too great for any she,
To captivate my will.
Would men be rul'd by me, we'd make
Those scornful things recant,
And should from us their measures take,
What we are pleas'd to grant:
For why should we be subject thus
To things so much below us?
Preeminence belongs to us,
'Tis they do duty owe us.
A Song call'd, My Mistriss is all the Genders.
The Tune, Shackle de Hay.
ANd first she's counted Masculine,
Because she's a Virago,
And born at th' Indies under th' Line,
At the Island call'd Tobago;
Where she has deceiv'd full many a man,
That they from her have quiv'ring ran,
As if they had an Ago.
Another call'd her Feminine,
And swore she of that Sex is,
'Cause in her book they'd interline,
They never use Indexes:
For turn unto what place you will,
You'll always find it open still,
Which never man perplexes.
Then I heard another say,
He thought she was a Neuter,
Because there came the other day
A Pupil and a Tutor:
But unto neither she'd incline,
But unto both would singly joyn,
That so they might recruit her.
Then I thought her the Common of Two,
From the Couple last was there, Sir,
And to her Parents gave their due,
As hic & haec did swear, Sir.
But if that she be common to two,
She'll ne'r be true to me nor you;
And therefore have a care, Sir.
Then I thought her the Common of Three,
Hic, haec, & hoc being with her;
And foelix, O happy was he
Did catch 'em altogether.
And if that she be common to three,
She'll ne'r be true to you nor me,
Nor constant unto either.
Then I thought, and so wou'd you,
She was of the Doubtful Gender;
For hic vel haec, and dies too,
Did day by day attend her.
And o'th' Doubtful Gender if she be,
She'll doubtful be to you and me,
Although we do befriend her.
And after we had scan'd her faults,
We found her much obsceanea;
And set a period to our thoughts,
To call her Epicaena,
Both he and she, Hermaphrodite;
And Aquila did say she was right,
And call'd her pocky Queana.
Thus have I shew'd my Mistriss t'ye,
Both Feminine, Mas, and Neuter,
Nay, Common of Two, and Common of Three,
And Doubtful to her Suiter.
And Epicaene we may her call,
Because she swears she owns 'em all,
There's none that can confute her.
My Mistriss understands all the Cases.
To the same Tune.
MY Mistriss she hath Policie,
There's none can undermine her:
For underneath her self she'll lie,
Yet I will not define her.
She all mens Cases makes her own,
'Cause she's to all their Cases known;
And therefore I'll decline her.
And first, she is a Nominative,
'Cause she declineth Nomen;
And in the act Hominative,
Denies not Knights nor Yeomen.
Nay, she can name 'em all at large,
That ere sail'd within her Barge,
Whether they be tall or low men.
Next, I call her Genitive,
'Cause she's for Procreation;
And she does use a Lenitive,
As a help to Generation.
Nay, she's for getting all she can
From every stout begetting man,
The best in all the Nation.
Then a Dative she is known,
From Do that was her Founder;
And before you quick falls down
As flat as any Flounder:
But whatsoever she doth give,
She ten times more doth still receive;
Which seems to me a wonder.
I then Accusative her call,
Whenever they neglect her:
For she will curse and blame 'em all,
Because they do reject her.
But when her blaming fit is ore,
You then may enter Portal-door,
And calls you her Protector.
Nay, all do call her Vocative,
Because sh'as a Vocation,
And has an art provocative,
To invite 'em to her Station.
But when they offer to go away,
Then O she cries, Whoop Holiday,
Let's use Conglutination.
Last I call her Ablative,
Because she's always taking;
And though her Suiters much do give,
Yet shell be always raking:
For in, with, through, for, by, and than,
Are the signes by which she knows the man
Must set her Oven a baking.
Thus from the first to the Ablative,
You see she knows the way, Sir:
For when I met her at Bablick-hive
Near Oxford, she did say, Sir,
That she had a Case for every man,
And put him to't, do what he can,
And still will hold him play, Sir.
A new Song,
to the new Jig-tune.
MY Nanny, quoth he: Why Janny, quoth she,
Your will, Sir?
I love thee, quoth he: If you love me, quoth she,
Do so still, Sir.
Page 61I'd gi' thee, quoth he: Wou'd you gi' me, quoth she,
But what, Sir?
Why some Money, quoth he: O some Money, quoth she?
Let me ha't, Sir.
I'd ha' thee, quoth he: Wou'd you ha' me, quoth she?
But where, Sir?
To my Chamber, quoth he: To your Chamber, quoth she?
Why there, Sir?
I'd kiss thee, quoth he: Wou'd you kiss me, quoth she?
But when, Sir?
Why now, quoth he: Neither now, quoth she,
Nor then, Sir.
I'd hug thee, quoth he: Wou'd you hug me, quoth she?
How much, Sir?
Why a little, quoth he: 'Tis a little, quoth she;
Not a touch, Sir.
I am fickish, quoth he: are you sickish, quoth she?
But why, Sir?
'Cause you slight me, quoth he: Do I slight you, quoth she?
'Tis a lye, Sir.
I'm dying, quoth he: O, dying, quoth she!
Are you sure on't?
'Tis certain, quoth he: Is't certain, quoth she?
There's no cure on't.
Then farewel, quoth he: I and farewel, quoth she,
My true Love.
I am going, quoth he: So am I too, quoth she,
To a new Love.
A Song on the Declensions.
The Tune, Shackle de Hay.
MY Mistriss she is fully known
To all the five Declensions;
She'll searce them singly one by one,
And take their true Dimensions.
She ne'r declin'd yet any man,
Yet they'll decline her now and than,
In spight of her Inventions.
First, Musa is her Mothers name,
And haec does still attend her;
She is a hujus burly Dame,
Though huic be but slender.
Yet she'll have a hanc on every man,
And put 'em to't, do what they can,
Unless they do befriend her.
Magister is her Master too,
And hic is still his Man, Sir;
And filius is her Son also.
And dominus is her Grandfire.
Nay, lucus, agnus, and that Lamb-like Crew,
She'll call 'em hunc's, and haec's 'um too,
Do all that ere they can, Sir.
Next, she's to lapis very kind,
As honest hic has said, Sir:
For she's to precious stones inclin'd,
Long before she was wed, Sir.
Which made her Parents often say,
That hic and haec both night and day
Was forc'd to watch her Bed, Sir.
She beat poor manus with a Cane,
Though he did often hand her
From Whetstones-Park and Parkers-lane,
And was her constant Pander.
Yet give him manibusses when
That she cou'd get no other men,
That he cou'd notwithstand her.
'Bout Noon she'd with meridies dine,
And sup, and bed him too, Sir.
She'd make poor facies to her incline,
In spight of all he cou'd do, Sir.
She day by day would dies pledge;
Which set poor acies tooth an edge,
And often made him spew, Sir.
Thus have I shew'd her kindness here,
And all her dear Relations;
As musa, lapis, magister,
And all their antick fashions.
Meridies, manus, and foelix too,
Had happy been, had they ne'r knew
Any of all her Stations.
The Tune, And 'tis the Knave of Clubs bears all the Sway.
MY Mistriss she loves Dignities;
For she has taken three Degrees.
There's no Comparison to be made
With her in all her subtle Trade:
For Audax boldly said unto her,
Y'are positively known a Whore.
And first, I Positive her call,
'Cause she'll be absolute in all:
For she is still to durus hard,
And often with sweet dulcis jarr'd;
Which made kind tristis very sad,
To see poor pauper us'd so bad.
Next, she is call'd Comparative,
'Cause she'll compare with any alive
In all the illiberal Sciences,
Which she has learned by Degrees.
Nay, was more hard to durior,
Than all the rest o'th' Crew before.
Last, I Superlative her call,
'Cause she'll be uppermost of all.
Page 65And yet although she was so high,
Lov'd underneath her self to lie;
And us'd durissimus, I hear,
The hard'st of all, when he came there.
Thus have I t'ye my Mistriss shown,
How she is positively known;
And Comparatively too,
She did outlearn the rest o'th' Crew.
And of her being Superlative,
'Cause she'd be highest of all alive.
Of the Five kinds of Verbs.
THe Verbs a Battle had of late, they say,
Which did consist of five Regiments that day.
The first was call'd the Active; and they were
The activ'st men of any that were there.
And Amo was their chief Commander then,
Who said, I love ye, 'cause y'are gallant men.
And Coronel Amo, with his active Crew,
Did lead the Van, which was indeed their due.
Next was the Passive, which was thought the best,
Because they suffered more than all the rest:
For those that in a Fight do suffer most,
Are thought the bravest men, though some are lost.
And noble Amor did command in chief
That gallant Regiment, though to his grief:
For Amo onely says, I love; But I,
Amor, am loved, so shall be till I die.
The next Coronel that appear'd in fight,
Was known to be an arrant Hypocrite;
Page 66Which was old Neuter: for he'd sometimes make
You to believe that he wou'd freely take
Your part; but twou'd sometimes with curro run
From one side to th' other: but being egg'd on
To fight, then wou'd he have some slie trick,
And with aegroto, say, I'm very sick:
And oftentimes wou'd give good words to either;
When truth to tell, he was indeed for neither.
And being Neuter, he was new-turn'd out;
At which the whole Regiment did give a shout.
Then the Commander of the fourth Regiment,
Was one they call'd Monsieur Deponent:
Which was for laying down as soon as chose,
And was the first that endeavour'd to depose
Himself from that Command; and was Brother
To Neuter, they were so like each other.
He was indeed a Jack in a Box: for he
Wou'd sometimes Active and then Passive be.
When Active, then must loquor verbum speak
A word in his behalf, his mind to break:
But when Passive, and then did suffer most,
Yet wou'd he still with glorior vaunt and boast.
Nay, their two Regiments did them so handle,
They both went out like a snuff of Candle.
The first Regiment was commanded by
One Communis of th'others Fraternity.
And though that he did always end in r,
Just like a Passive, yet would he always car'
A fair outside to amo; and so free,
As to say to him, Osculor te, I kiss thee:
But when amor came, then who but he,
Saying, Osculor à te, I'm kissed of thee.
Thus to conclude, and the truth to tell,
Had these three Regiments done their duty well,
Page 67There had been an end of that mortal Fray
Much sooner than it was, as many say.
Then my advice is, shou'd they fight agen,
To chuse for Coronels some other men.
And like him, 'tis very Common to protest
Kindness to one, when we mean nothing less.
THe Battle of the Verbs being fully known,
And their Regiments describ'd one by one,
The Moods intend, it seems, to let us know
The cause o'th' Quarrel, and the manner how.
The Indicative being the Primier Mood,
The rest of them then did think it good
To let him speak, as being Secretory,
And therefore being fitt'st to tell the story;
Dear Brethren, says he, I must tell ye,
They were deceiv'd by fallo's Son, fefelli,
Who was employ'd by all the Verbs about it,
And he deceiv'd 'em, else they had not fought it.
And the chief cause indeed was, as I hear,
From some anomalous Verbs that were there;
Who are Verbs always out of rule, and so
Not to be rul'd by any man, you know:
As possum, volo, nolo, malo, and
Edo, fero, (who then was in command;)
And's unde feror too, and all the rest
Of that tumultuous Crew, said 'twas best
To fight it out. Says possum, I may or can,
Nay, am able to fight with any man.
Page 68Says volo, I am willing to side with you,
And will participate in what you do.
Nolo said, He was unwilling to have peace:
And malo was more willing than all these
To fight. Says edo, I'll eat my way through 'um;
That's the ready way, says one, to undo 'um.
But fero was more fierce than all: for he
Said, he'd bear or suffer any thing, than flee.
Says ferro, I've born and suffer'd more than all,
And in your Cause resolve to stand or fall.
Says fio, How came this to be made or done?
Then all fall on him, every Mothers son.
So some took one side, and others t'other,
Until they'd near destroy'd one another.
This being spoke, they all were at a stand:
Then says th' Imperative, I do command
Silence among ye all; and bid ye too,
Strictly to observe what I shall say or do:
For he was one that was imperious,
And never spoke in other manner, but thus:
Saying, Had I been there, I'd a charg'd 'em all
To cease from fighting, or have made 'em fall
By my imperious hand: for let me but say,
Ama, amato, love thou, and they all obey;
Or pugnate, pugnatote, fight ye,
And if ye do well, then I will knight ye.
Thus my being absent, caus'd the fight that day;
None knew how to command, nor none to obey.
He having finisht his discourse, up starts
The Optative, who wisht that all their hearts
Had been as his, then th'had not fought that day:
For he and's Foreman utinam ran away.
And though the Imperative had the greatest command,
Yet he of Tenses had five to one at hand
Page 69More than t'other; and was no good House-holder,
As being so great a wisher and a woulder.
For all good Prayers he did never want;
As, I would God, I pray God, and God grant.
And that there might be no more hatred, he'd say,
Ʋtinam amem, God grant I love alway;
Which is the onely way to keep's in peace.
And having so spoke, his Speech did cease.
The Potential then stood up, and to 'em said,
Next to the Imperative, he'd be obey'd:
For though he had indeed the chief command,
Yet he was more mighty both in Goods and Land;
As may be seen by the Signes at his door,
When others have but one, yet he has six more;
As may, can, might, could, would, should, or ought;
Which unto this Potency has him brought:
And cou'd say amem, I may or can love,
Or let it alone: for he wou'd still move
In his own Sphere; and never wou'd quarrel,
But relieve the needy, and those that are ill:
Saying, I may or do what I please herein;
But 'tis best not fight, but sleep in a whole skin.
The Subjunctive then began to tell his Tale;
But when he striv'd to do't alone, wou'd fail,
But must be forc'd to take a Conjunction
To joyn with him, or not use his Function:
For the Subjunctive, if the truth were known,
Is but the Adjectives Bastard: for alone
They can't stand in Reason or Signification,
But must have a word joyn'd to keep the sence warm,
And stick like a Gizzard still under each arm.
The Subjunctive then at last did declare,
He wou'd be subject to any thing else but War.
The Infinitive then to end the Debate,
Said, Of all the Verbs he did participate;
And also he cou'd do, suffer, or be
What he pleas'd within's own Seigniorie;
And was inferiour unto none
Of the Moods, but of himself cou'd stand alone:
For I can force amare to love my Daughter,
And amaturum esse, to love hereafter;
And amandum and amatum, to love also;
And amatu, to be belov'd whe'r he will or no.
And likewise can command docturum esse,
To teach hereafter my Daugher Besse.
Nay, I cou'd shew you an Infinite more;
But for brevities sake, I now give ore,
And do infinitely desire there may be
No more of fighting, if you'll be rul'd by me,
Of the TENSES.
THe Tenses they being Servants to the Moods,
They call'd 'em to account about those Feuds.
The Present Tense did first himself present,
(And truth to say, he did those times lament)
He presently then told them all, That they
Cou'd never think him guilty of that Fray:
For he vow'd, Had he been present when 'twas done,
He wou'd have been the first that shou'd a run:
For who knows better to get out of Bands,
When Times and Seasons are all in our hands?
The Preterimperfect Tense did then appear;
But was imperfect in's relation there:
Page 71For though his time was not perfectly past,
He confest that with amabam he did love at last;
But loving not then, they told him 'twas a fault,
And was the cause that all that trouble was wrought.
He vow'd he was not there at that same time
When't began; so not guilty of that crime.
The Preterperfect Tense then began to plead,
Protesting himself innocent of that deed:
For though his time was perfectly past, yet he
Said, I have lov'd amavi ferventlie;
For he and I do all such Quarrels shun,
And never heard o'th' Battle, until 'twas done.
The Preterpluperfect then was call'd in,
And brought amaveram with him, who had bin
His long and constant friend, who said, Though their time
Were more than perfectly past, yet that crime
Cou'd not be laid to their charge, 'cause that they
Had lov'd one another many a day.
And will do't still with leave o'th' Future Tense,
That they got great applause when they went thence.
The Future Tense at last was called in,
Who plainly told 'em, If he had guilty bin
Of such a thing, he deserv'd to be blam'd:
But yet, say they, methinks y'are not asham'd
To confess you did not love. No, says he,
I did not: for that can be no fault in me;
For an Astrologer told me once at home,
That my time of loving was not yet come:
And likewise told me, that amabo and I,
Shall or will love most certainly.
Then all the Court remov'd, and did pray
They ne'r might see such another day.
On the Squibs and Crackers thrown on the Lord Mayors day.
'TWas just the day 'fore twenty ten
Of dull October, being then
The Lord Mayors show, or eke his day,
So call'd by th' Vulgar, as they say:
I speak not of that glorious Crew
That past us by in open view;
As first, the Companies several,
Belonging to each others Hall,
All clad in black, with half red Tippit,
Who on their Petitoes did trip it.
Nor of those Velvet-coats so black,
With Chains of gold hung on their back;
Nor of that Teem of Scarlet-Riders,
Who of the City-wards are Guiders;
Nor of the Troops and Horses fairness,
Whose Masters all were clad in Harness,
Whose Officers Coats bedecked were
With Gold embroider'd every where;
Nor the Foot, with Bagpipe, Fife, and Drum,
Who thither with the rest did come
For to attend our Soveraign,
(Whom God preserve with all his Train;)
Nor of those gallant Princely Coaches,
To all I gave a Bonos noches:
But of those Gallants Treat I do,
That were Spectators of that Show;
Page 73Who there were placed in Balconies,
'Mongst which were many antient Cronies,
And Ladies young: who all there stood,
I can't say sit, they wisht they cou'd:
For in the twinkling of an eye,
Such Squibs and Crackers then did flie
In such a horrid fiery fashion,
It forc'd them all to change their station,
Lest it should burn their Garments gay,
Which borrowed were perhaps that day.
They chiefly flew, like Whirligigs,
On curled Hair and Perriwigs:
Nothing escap'd them, they were so set,
That all was Fish that came to Net.
A couple came that day to see
And to be seen, in all their braverie:
And drest they were most finically,
That all shou'd note that stood them by.
In striped Mantua's they were drest,
Of all colours i'th' Rainbow, I protest.
And both were in Balcony set,
Thinking their gayness then so great,
That none wou'd venture their Squibs to fling
At them (being as fine as any thing.)
The Squibs and Cracker-men below
Observing what they did, and how
Confident they were that none would throw,
And being intent about the Show,
Some ten of them together flung,
Which did directly light among
Those which in that Balcony sate,
Which made them stir, but 'twas too late:
And 'fore they cou'd remove their station,
Up came ten more i'the same fashion;
Page 74Which quickly burnt their curled Hair,
Their Hoods and Scarfs, and all was there;
Their Rain-bow-colour'd Cloths, I find,
Were all burnt both before and behind;
And left 'em in most woful cases:
For't scorcht the Patches on their faces.
They were so claw'd, that one did swear
They both like Gipsies did appear.
Though they came in in merry posture,
Yet when went out, their eyes were moister.
Though they at fore-door did come in,
Yet they at back-door went out agin:
And forc'd were t' go to their old Stallion,
Being al-a-mode de Taterdemallion.
Also a Lord; but the Lord knows who
It was: for it burnt his Breeches too,
His Velvet-coat, Perriwig, and Hat,
And also his richly lac'd Cravat.
Nay, they from Windows scarce cou'd peep,
But suddenly were forc'd to creep
Back again, or those Ladies fair
Were sure to burn their Hoods and Hair.
No Gowns nor Whisks did then escape:
For on Petticoats they made a Rape;
Not on those that were a top alone,
But below too, they were so sawcy grown.
Another, it seems, then to secure
A pretty Lady, did then endure
A hot Contest: but by his leave,
It quickly burnt his Half-shirt-sleeve.
The Author catcht one in's hand a top,
And flung't in's face that threw it up,
To keep't from them that were above:
But by his favour, it burnt his Glove.
Page 75Last I advise, if any chance to go
Agen to see the Lord Mayors Show,
They must not in Balconies stand,
Or any place that's low at hand;
But i'th' Garret, or the Leads a top:
For that's too high to fling 'em up.
to the Tune of Thomas I cannot.
COme, my Molly, let us be jolly,
Now we are both come hither;
Thy Mother's from home, and we are alone,
Then let us be merry together.
I'll give thee some Rings and Bracelets fine,
And other Trinkets, if thou wilt be mine.
In truth, good Sir, I dare not incline;
My Mother does tell me I munnot, I munnot,
My Mother does tell me I munnot.
Thou sha't have a Gown of the vinest zilk,
The like was never zeena;
Thou sha't ha the Cream of all the Milk
Of the Cows that go on the Greena,
To make thee some Curds and Cheescakes store,
And Custards too, all sugar'd ore.
I pray you, good Sir, now say no more;
My Mother does tell me I munnot, &c.
Thy Wastcoat shall be of Scarlet too,
With Ribonds tyed together:
Thy Stockins shall be of a Bow-died hue,
And thy shoes of Spanish Leather.
Page 76And upon each Shoe a silken Knot
For to set out thy delicate foot.
In truth, good Sir, I dare not do't;
My Mother does tell me, &c.
Thy Petticoat shall be of Sey,
The best in all the Towna;
And thou shalt wear it every day,
And zo thou shalt thy Gowna.
Thy Smock shall be of Holland fine,
If thou in love with me wo't joyn.
In truth, good Sir, I dare not combine;
My Mother does tell me, &c.
I'll feof thee in a Copy-hold
Of Forty pound a yeara;
And I ha Twonty pound in Gold
Will serve to make good Cheara.
O no, you men, I know ye too well,
But give you an inch, and you'll take an ell,
And when you have done, you Tales will tell.
In truth, good Sir, I munnot, I munnot;
My Mother does tell me I munnot.
Why then, my Molly, here I vow
My Lips shall still be sealed,
And whatsoever we do now,
Shall never be revealed.
With one sweet Kiss we'll seal the same;
Deny me but this, you are to blame.
O this Kiss doth so inflame,
I cannot hold out a minit, a minit;
I cannot hold out a minit.
The Tune, My Dame Joan hath pawn'd her Kittle.
CLear up those stormy Brows, and teach
My weak and wadling Love to go:
Who makes 'twixt Infant-loves a breach,
Sure is no stout nor gallant foe.
Prethee let us prove, that Cupid is above
The firm Votes of immortal Fate:
Though a Child he be, let Malice see
That Love is stronger far than Hate.
Then be no longer fondly coy;
Death's here more welcome than delay.
Love is a nimble sprightly Boy,
And hath swift wings, the Poets say.
Let's lose no time, 'tis a capital crime;
None sins in Love like him that's slow.
If I wanton be, pray pardon me;
Love's a Child, and Children will be so.
My Senses call me dull, and blame
My calmness, that thus pleading stands.
Come, your Mother she did do the same;
Yield, or I must lay violent hands.
For shall I spare one, such a Rape hath done,
And violence on my Soul hath lain?
And why should she thus ravish me,
And I not ravish her again?
Why this stir? why this denying?
This pish, pish, Groper, stand away?
Why this proud and coy denying,
'Cause I there my hand did lay?
I did grope, 'tis true; but in love sure you
Will count it no offence, I hope.
If the cause you'll find, know Love is blind;
And they that cannot see, must grope.
A Mock-Song to Come my Daphne.
COme, my durty Pug, away;
What the Pox d'ye mean to say?
'Tis Rowland calls; what wou'd my Swine?
Come up, you Whore, 'tis time to dine,
Where Vulcan shall provide
A Whip to claw your hide.
Were I shut up within a Jail,
'Tis Rowland he must be my Bail.
You lazy Whore, make hast,
The Meat at fire doth wast.
In the burning Fountain I
Must for ever live and die;
And on thy mangy bosom stray,
Would fright, would fright,
Would fright the Devil away.
We'll howl and weep, and ne'r give ore,
Because the Fiends do see, do see
The cursed glee
'Twixt thee and me;
But never will deplore
My sad, but fatal Destinie.
Another Drunken Mock to Come my Daphne.
COme, my Bully-rock, away;
We do wast this drinking day.
'Tis Roger calls: What news, you Sot?
Come see, you Rogue, what I have got:
For Bacchus still provides
Brisk Wine to stuff our Hides.
Were I shut up in Cellar deep,
I'd first be drunk before I'd sleep.
Ye lazy Rogue, make hast,
The Wine will spoil and wast.
With good Sack and Claret I
Will for ever live and die:
And from Bung-hole ne'r will stray,
Till thee and I have suckt it quite away.
We'll drink and sleep, and then we'll snore,
That Bacchus he
May dayly see
The Bubbing Glee
'Twixt thee and mee;
But never will give ore,
Whilst we good Sack or Claret see.
The Wooing Gallant. A SONG.
COme hither my dearest, come hither to me,
And I will be so loving to thee,
As never was man before.
Then gi' me thy heart, and thou sha't a mine:
For if I may be certain of thine,
I'll never desire no more.
Then unto my house we'll trip it away,
And fit and provide for the Wedding-day.
We'll dance and we'll sing,
And the Bells shall ring,
And the Fidlers round about us shall play.
Thy Body with rich Apparel I'll deck,
And round about thy Ivory Neck
I'll place a Chain of Pearl,
So round and so fair, so fine and so neat,
That every one that chances to see't,
Will say thou'rt a lovely Girl.
Then be not so coy, but come away,
And I'll embrace thee both night and day:
For I vow and I swear
Thou shalt be my Dear,
And merrily we will sing and play.
The Girl she stood off, and smiling said,
I fear you mean to betray a Maid
That never did love before:
For men will dissemble, and cog, and lye,
And swear they love you faithfully,
When they have another in store.
But if that you mean to be faithful and true,
And that I should be so to you,
Be loving and kind,
And change not your mind,
Or else for evermore adieu.
Ʋpon the taking down of the Kings Arms at Ox∣ford, in the time of the Rump, viz. 1649. who instead of plucking down them on the Gate of the Physick-Garden in Oxford, they were such ex∣cellent Heralds, that they pluckt down the Earl of Danby's Arms, who was the Founder there.
IN Sixteen hundred forty nine,
When Cavaliers were forc'd to dine
At Duke Humfrey's Table still;
(But 'twas, poor hearts! against their will)
A dismal time when Rump did fart ye
A thousand cracks 'gainst Royal Partie;
And when Kings Arms were plucking down
In every City and in Town.
In Oxford-City there's a place
Call'd Physick-Garden, a little space
Page 82From Colledge Magdalen doth stand,
Well known to many in this Land.
From Maudling-bridge it stands North-west,
So that must be from it South-east.
This is so plain, you cannot miss it,
That when y'are there, you'll say this is it.
The Walls that do surround this place,
And noble Gate which doth it grace,
And all the Land within the same,
For evermore will bear the name,
As being the particular Bount-
Ty of that noble Northern Count,
Who to's Prince to th' last did stand by,
Call'd Henricus Comes Danby.
This Gift, I say, was onely his,
(For which no doubt he is in Bliss)
Unto the poor University,
Made so by th' Rump, the more's the pity.
And first of all this Rumpish Crew
That then did there appear in view,
With others that he thither brought
For to destroy, as then they thought,
Their Princes Arms, was a Colonel,
Who indeed was a Preacher, as well
As Souldier; and so he began
Then to preach to every man
His Rumpish Doctrine, and so bid
Them be valiant: and what they did,
He wou'd secure both great and small
By an Ordinance from his Masters all.
An Ordinance it might be call'd,
(Which oft the Cavaliers have maul'd)
By thundring of us out a Town,
From Post to Pillar up and down.
Page 83But name of Act it cannot bear,
Yet 'twas the Cornel's Act, I'll swear.
And with the Cornel there did go
His Lieutenant-Colonel also;
And Major too, and Captains store,
And Ensigns and Lieutenants more.
And of the County-Committee
There were about the number three,
With others at the Colonels call;
I think there was the Devil and all.
But now comes out a pleasant Tale
(If my memory do not fail)
Which in Oxford is very rife
In every mouth, and true on my life:
On the right hand of that brave Gate
Were Kings Arms plac'd in handsome state,
And likewise Crown and Garter too,
As 'bout the Arms they use to do.
O'th' left hand was the Founders Arms,
Bold Danvers, who with loud Alarms
The Irish Rebels conquer'd so,
In little time he had no Foe
To wreak his Valour on; whose fame
Was spread abroad, that's very name
Would scatter all that Kernish Crew;
But Danvers cry, away they flew.
And before he came from thence,
Forc'd 'em to own their natural Prince.
For which important service done,
(By way of Retaliation)
King James with Title then did greet him
Of Baron Danvers; which did meet him
'Fore he came to kiss his hand. And's Son
Charles the first, for other service done,
Page 84Did Earl of Danby him create,
And Knight o'th' Garter, (Honours great!)
Yet none for him too great was thought,
Who for his Prince so bravely fought:
So that by this I'd have you note,
He had the Garter round his Coat,
And Coronet also: which did make
Among our Heroes that great mistake,
Which made for what I do intend,
(And then I'll draw unto an end.)
These gallant new-made Gentlemen
(With the Country-Committee then)
And others of that new-dub'd Crew,
When both these Coats they chanc'd to view,
Like wise men, did with one accord
Command the Arms of this brave Lord
To be pull'd down instead o'th' Kings:
And so they flew, as 'twere with wings,
For to pull down, as they thought,
His Majesties most Royal Coat.
Sure of Senses they were bereft,
Not to know right hand from the left.
That they were Scholars, you can't deny,
'Cause in the University;
And wonder 'twas what Heraldry then
Was 'mong our Rumpish Gentlemen.
Or were they at that time afraid
To touch that Princely Coat? They laid
Not violent hands upon it then;
But I remember the time when
They durst attack, as well as Crown,
His sacred Person too, 'tis known.
Sure Providence did cast a mist
'Fore the Cor'nels eyes, and all the rest,
Page 85That they cou'd not see that very day
('Cause their chief Light's within, they say.)
If so, then 'twas Prophetick sure,
That they should onely then obscure,
And for a time to cloud the Crown,
But for their lives not pull it down.
Though th' Officers so little knew,
And Gentlemen of that great Crew,
What did belong to Arms; 'tis strange
The Souldiers that did use to range
Themselves each day in Rank and File,
(And many times their Arms recoil.)
And then the chief word of Command
Was, Stand to your Arms, to every Band;
Which they being often us'd to do,
Made 'em let the Kings Arms stand too.
Then after this in Merriment,
They all unto the Tavern went,
To congratulate each others act,
And all to own that prudent fact.
There were some twenty Officers,
With Committee-men, Friends of theirs;
So that there were 'bout thirty two
Of this most Solomon-like Crew:
Who had at last four pints of Sack
'Mongst them all to strengthen the back.
And though they wou'd not wench, nor swear,
Yet you see drink hard when they came there.
Nay, that they might seem more profuse,
(Which was indeed their common use)
In half-pint-pots 'twas still brought up;
But yet before they'd touch the cup,
With Hat in hand wou'd Blessing crave,
Lest poison'd by a Cavalier Knave.
Page 86And as they thus sate carousing,
In comes a bold fellow, using
Great Reverence to that learned Gang,
Saying, They were better to hang
Than keep: And having a pint of Sack
In his hand, he like a mad Hack,
Drank the Kings health, and then threw
The Pot among that Spendthrift Crew,
Saying, Pox take ye all; and then flew
Down Stairs, without bidding 'em adieu.
Though they command Kings Arms pull down,
Yet still hung up some of their own:
Which did prognosticate, I say,
Their Arms shou'd first hang up; they, they.
We were so far from putting down
Their Arms, we set 'em up in Town.
Nay, they were so highly grac'd,
That ore the Kings Arms they were plac'd
On every Gate about the City;
Not sooner done, the more's the pity.
The Rump their Juglings so did handle,
They all went out like Snuff of Candle.
And those who bought King or Bishops Lands,
At the happy Change, had their hands
Eas'd of all that mighty trouble,
After they'd brought the Rents to double.
So may they all be serv'd, that persists
Not in heart and voice true Royalists:
And also those that do repine
At this our Change; which by divine
Hand was then so brought about,
To scatter all that cursed Rout
Who had deserv'd it long before,
For Cruelty, but Treason more.
A Mock-Song to Cellamina:
And to that Tune.
MAll, I ne'r yet knew thy mind;
Once agen I'll prove thee:
If thou wilt but be so kind
To kiss me twice or thrice behind,
Faith I'll ever love thee.
Tom, I'm ignorant, I vow,
Which way to come to it;
But if you the way will show,
First kiss mine, then I shall know
The better how to do it.
We'll draw Cuts then if thou wo't,
Now within this minnit;
And when we have drawn the Lot,
Those that have the shortest Cut,
They shall then begin it.
Hang your Cuts; do you begin't;
You're the first did move it:
And when I see you do't in print,
Sure you'll think the Devil's in't,
Should I not approve it.
Iter Occidentale: or, a Western Voyage from the Old Exchange to the Gridiron near Charing∣cross in the Strand; and perform'd by five Gentlemen, Nov. 5. 1673.
THough Squibs and Crackers thick did flie
On Lord Mayors day, like Snow in Skie;
But yet upon November Fift,
There flew of them so great a drift,
One scarce could pass along the street,
But spight of teeth we did them meet.
And now the reason you wou'd hear,
Why this day's kept so strict each year,
As being Holiday, and why not,
In memory of the Powder-plot.
But let that pass, I now will treat
The Adventures these half ten did meet:
And coming into street call'd Cheap-
Side some do adde, we saw a heap
Of Ribble-rabble met together,
That threw their Squibs they car'd not whither,
That we, poor harmless Grigs,
Cou'd scarcely save our Perriwigs:
And I had then no more but one;
Had that been burnt, whoop, all was gone.
I forc'd was use both hat and hand,
To save my Wig and little Band.
Though but through Lane or Corner turn'd,
We did expect still to be burn'd.
Page 89Nay, we were forc'd to skip i'th' Gutter,
But quickly we from thence must flutter:
For if y'are fixt in any place,
Hey Boys, says they: then look t' your face.
So that we still skipt up and down
Like Morris-dancers in a Town.
And besides this Rabble-rout,
We there did see a Rope stretcht out,
Which was on two Balconies fixt,
With Bonfires two or three betwixt;
And then upon that dangling Rope
We there did see a Rev'rend Pope,
With Sword by's side, and Crosier too,
And Trident in his hand also,
And eke his Pontificial Gown,
And Miter too, with Triple-Crown
All made of Cards: And being thus,
Methoughts it was preposterous
For Cards made for the hand, not head,
Or I'm like him in Faith misled.
But now I think I've found the knack,
Why they of Cards his Crown did make,
And on his head Card-miter wore,
'Cause he a Cardinal was before;
And his Supremacy arises
By being the Head o'th' Cardinal Vices.
But why a Trident in his hand?
My troth, it puts me to a stand,
That he should Neptune's Right assume,
Because 'tis call'd the Sea of Rome:
And so we find by this, that he
Is Lord not o'th' Land alone, but Sea.
Witness that annual throwing in
A Ring into the Sea; which long hath bin
Page 90Continued by the Venetian State:
And when first done, the Pope he sate
I'th' Bucentaure triumphantlie,
To wed that State unto the Sea:
For had he not a Right unto't,
Why did he at that time then do't?
But now I think upon it well,
The Sea of Rome, we all can tell,
Did overflow all Europe ore
In former times; but the British shore
For this hundred and fifty year,
Has put an ebb to's flowing here.
Besides all this, as some do say,
He also had in's hand a Key,
With Boots and Spurs, as in a fright,
To ride away that very night:
And with's Key, it seems, he meant
To ope the City-gates as he went:
For's Keys the Gates do ope, we know,
Of Heaven above, and Hell below.
But for all that, such was his fate,
To be that night unfortunate.
The Squibs so pelted him, he swore
He'd never come to England more,
If once he got away: and said,
I now in my own Coyn am paid,
For using Hereticks so bad,
When I my Papal power had.
All those that heard him then to say,
That he'd from England hast away,
Him answer made in this same dress:
Good riddance to your Holiness;
For we will never wholly be
Addicted to your Roman Sea.
Page 91Which made him fret and fume the more,
That we were forc'd to give him ore,
And left him in that angry vein;
Anon we'll speak of him again.
And so from thence we marcht away
To Ludgate-street, there made a stay;
Where we espied another Object,
That to the Pope is truest Subject;
And that's a Cardinal, who there sate
Triumphantly in Chair of State,
With all things fine, and all things pat,
And eke had there his Cardinals Hat,
Which fixed was upon his head,
Whose Gown and that were coloured.
The Rabble there made Applications
To him still in Squib-like fashions;
Which he did for an honour take
Unto all Cardinals for his sake:
And glad he was to England come,
Saying, He was ne'r so serv'd at Rome.
And when in this they grew bolder,
Then he blest 'em ore the left shoulder,
Saying, I give my Benedicite
Unto all Hereticks; but ye
Especially shall not miss it,
For this November-visit:
For I'm the Papal Nuncio here,
And all is under my Paternal care.
Nay, Beloved, I will assure ye,
I can be angry too, yea, in fury;
But not with any here of you
That honour me so in publick view.
And had I known that you'd a gave
Such honour as to me you have
Page 92Unto a Cardinal heretofore,
I had sooner seen the English shore:
But 'tis not late to come at last,
Since I so freely of it tast.
When they had honour'd him so much,
It seems they'd have another touch;
And with another Card'nal went
Round the City in merriment;
Whose Nose was very long indeed:
No matter for that. But I'll proceed:
He Crosier had in's hand, and Cross,
And on mens shoulders did him toss;
Which does belong to Popes alone,
But here to Cardinals 'tis shown.
He marcht in pomp through every street;
And every one that did him meet,
When to adore cou'd not come nigh him,
Did with their Crackers kindly ply him:
Which he took kindly, and threw about
His Arms, still blessing all the Rout.
At last he fixed was in's Station,
And all's Brethren i'th' same fashion,
Fixed were in several places,
Who boldly there did shew their faces.
And though they Hereticks did us call,
Yet coming before the Tribunal
Of that great Rabble, they quickly found
That they were Catholicks unsound,
So Hereticks themselves, and had
Committed Treason, which was sad.
Nay, they the occasion were, they say,
That this was made a Holy-day;
And so condemn'd them to the Flame,
Though he with Long-nose smelt the same
Page 93Long before: and therefore did advise
Them both to be merry and wise;
And spoke to th' Pope, that he with's Key
Shou'd open them the ready way
To steal from all this Rabble-rout
As fast as ere they cou'd get out.
But notwithstanding his advice
Which he had urg'd unto 'em twice,
They so infatuated were,
They thought the Pope cou'd never erre:
Which makes it certain, the Popes Chair
Is not infallible every where.
And after they condemned were,
I do protest I did not hear
One word from either that did plead
In their own defence; 'twas strange indeed!
Nor did they rail, nor scold, nor cry,
But took their deaths most patiently.
Nay, they were so very meek,
Not one ill word I heard 'em speak;
But thought those Flames to them a Glory,
As being those of Purgatory;
And had no need of Pater-Nosters,
Or Ave-Maries dirg'd in Cloisters,
For to fetch their Souls from thence;
They thought that done when they went hence.
That Lutherans now must think't a story,
That say there is no Purgatory.
And now ye are convinc'd, I hope,
To have a better love to th' Pope.
They in that Flame so soon were burn'd,
That they to ashes quickly turn'd.
One askt why they were so cruel,
To adde a flame unto the fewel
Page 94Of that giddy Multitude,
That then were so exceeding rude?
Said, For serving us i'th' same fashion,
We do't but by retaliation:
They shew'd the way, we do but follow.
Then all began to whoop and hallow.
And then with many Squib-like flashes,
They took their leave o'th' holy Ashes,
Saying, Dear Father, we bid adieu
For evermore to all your Crew.
Thus have you heard the story true,
O'th' death of three o'th' seventy two
Cardinals: if so, then I find
There's but sixty nine left behind;
Which is too many by six times ten,
And three times three, of such kind of men.
And then we unto Fleet-street came,
Where all the way we saw the flame
Of numerous Bonfires for to light
The Pope and's Brothers to th' Grave that night.
From thence to th' Strand we came amain,
Where we did see so great a Train
Of Bonfires that were so light,
We did no Link-boys see that night:
And they petition'd have, they say,
That this Gunpowder-treason-day
May not come oft; for if it did,
They were undone: which Jove forbid.
For Rumpish Cornels two or three,
Of Link-boys Hall have all been free;
Of Majors, and of Captains more,
And eke Lieutenants greater store;
Of Ensignes and Cornets many indeed,
Who had most colour for what they did.
Page 95Who all, you see, were linkt together
In that great Hall of wind and weather;
Who lighted all the Rumpish Gang
To their Deserts, that is, to hang:
Better destroy any Corporation
Than that of Link-boys in this Nation:
For we in darkness were before,
And but for them, shou'd now be more,
'Bout which the Woodmongers and they
Had hot contest about that day.
The Link-boys beg'd it might be no more;
And t'other did desire good store:
Which did consume their Billets and Faggots,
Which else wou'd be destroy'd with Maggots;
They cou'd not vend the smallest heap,
Because that Coals were then so cheap.
And though we burn'd and broiled were,
Throughout the streets every where;
Yet to th' Gridiron did we go,
To make the Proverb good, you know,
Out o'th' Frying-pan into th' Fire:
But yet, according to our desire,
We there did find a broiling for us
(Which quickly drove away our sorrows)
An excellent Fricacy of Rabbets,
So finely done and cut in gobbets;
Good Sawce, with excellent Drink good store:
In conscience we cou'd ask no more.
Then home we went to cushy all,
After this Papal Funeral.
Dated on November Fift, you plainly see,
A new SONG,
To the Tune of The Flatteries of Fate.
With the ANSWER.
I Always resolv'd to be from the Charms
That Love with his Subtilty ere cou'd invent;
I laught at his Deity, scorn'd at the Harms
That he cou'd inflict to abridge my content:
But now I do find,
Though the God he be blind,
The Mark he has hit, and hath changed my mind.
Though a Child thought he be,
Yet his Manhood I see:
For with one poor Shaft he hath conquered me.
I often before great Beauties did see
With Charms in their Tongues, and Darts in their eyes,
Who sought by their Wiles to intoxicate me;
But never till now they my heart cou'd surprize.
But now I do see
That a Slave I must be
To that which has been a Servant to me:
For the angry Gods Dart
Hath so wounded my Heart,
No Balm that's applied but increaseth my smart.
Thus have you heard our Love in a Maze,
This call'd a Labyrinth I ne'r could abide,
Whose turnings and windings are so many ways,
That none can get out, unless by a Guide.
But my Guide is so coy,
Though my Soul I employ
To lie at her feet, yet my hopes she'll destroy;
And rather than I
Will keep touch with her eye
To lie at her feet, I'm resolved to die.
The Answer to the last Song.
And to that Tune.
I Pity thy Passion, Intoxicate Lover!
Can Venus's Philtres so prevalent be,
That thou shouldst in a Phrensie thy weakness discover,
And part with thy Manhood and Birthright so free?
Shall a purblind Boy
Thy Courage destroy,
And make thee submit like a Slave to a Toy?
Are a Females Eyes
Such a notable Prize,
As to offer thy Life for a Sacrifice?
What is she some Angel, thou valuest her so?
Is a Goddess engrav'd on her heavenly Brow?
If she's but a woman, then stoop not so low:
For the woman was made for the man, you must know.
Page 98Wil• thou stoop to the checks
Of the Feminine Sex,
That dayly does study poor Mortals to vex?
Our Grandfathers Bride
Was took from his side,
As intended to help him, but never to guide.
But if Reason must yield to effeminate fits,
If Frenzy must rule, and our Senses be splaid,
If a man must run mad, and abjure all his wits;
Then may he thus wretchedly doat on a Maid.
If a courting I go,
My pursuit should be so,
I wou'd seem not to care whe'r I had her or no.
That's a lawful Trepan;
And if 't were but began,
You'll see 'em run whining and cry for a man.
A SONG. With the ANSWER.
SInce you will needs my heart possess,
'Tis just to you, I do confess
The fault to whom 'tis given:
It is to change much more inclin'd
Than Women, or the Sea, or Wind,
Or ought that's under Heaven.
The fair, the black, the gay, the sad,
Which often makes me think 'twas mad,
With one kind look would win it.
So natural it loves to range,
That it hath left success for change;
And what's worse, glories in it.
Often when I am laid to rest,
It makes me act like one possest:
For still 'twill keep a puther.
Though you alone I do esteem,
Yet 'twill make me in a dream
Court and enjoy another.
Nor will I hide from you this truth,
Which has been from my very Youth
A most egregious Ranger:
For since from me it often fled,
With whom it was both born and bred,
'Twill scarce stay with a Stranger.
But now, if you are not afraid,
After these truths which I have said,
To take this arrant Rover:
Be not displeas'd, if I protest,
I think the heart within my breast
Will prove just such another.
SInce, Sir, your heart will then away,
Let that be gone which will not stay;
Yet I'll the same be ever:
With wandring Drake you then may range,
And like unconstant Proteus change:
For my part I will never.
But yet mistake me not, my mind
Was never yet to Love inclin'd;
Much less to any Lover:
For I resolved am to be
Still constant to Unconstancie;
Which you'll by this discover.
Methinks it is a pretty sport
To see how Rivals do retort,
And grin upon each other.
A frown on this man makes him sad;
On that, doth make him raving mad;
A smile insnares another.
'Tis brave to hear such Gothams boast,
And how each other they accost;
Of which some are for fighting:
And some in corners do appear,
A wishing for their Panders there
And some are for inditing.
This, Sir, 's Loves Paradise, wherein
Not a few parts have acted bin.
Since there your heart's a Ranger,
It shall the honour have to pass,
And bray there like a very Ass,
And so shall not a stranger.
A SONG call'd Francelia: With the ANSWER.
To the Tune of Augusta.
FRancelia's heart is still the same,
Cold and hard as Winters morning,
Round her Love is ever burning;
Yet no sighs or tears can ever Yet no, &c.
Warm her Ice, or cool my Fever.
So much I think and talk of her,
That every Grove and Stream can name her;
All the Nimphs and Ecchos blame her.
If she keeps her cruel fashion, If she keeps, &c.
Onely Death can ease my Passion.
All the Arts that Lovers have,
All the Vows and all the Anguish,
All the looks with which I languish,
Move not her to any feeling; Move not, &c.
Beauty takes delight in killing.
FRancelia's heart is still the same,
Kind and free to all embraces:
Though variety of faces
Dayly court her to obtain her, Dayly, &c.
They can never, never gain her.
So much she thinks and talks of me,
That every Room i'th' house proclaims it;
Nay, the babbling Eccho names it
By a kind Reverberation, By a kind, &c.
That she's constant in her Passion.
All the Arts her Lovers use
In their Presents, Vows, and Treatings,
Still appear to be but Cheatings.
Nought she says or does can please 'em, Nought, &c.
Makes 'em wish for death to ease 'em.
A Song set by Mr. Staggins. With the Answer.
WHy shou'd we ere Beauty fade,
Slaves to Care and Age be made,
Since our flying Youth can no more be had?
Page 103Where Love and Mirth do call, let's go
And crop new Joys each minute as they grow:
To morrow's fate there's none can know.
Let's sing and laugh sad thoughts away,
Mirth shall rule the active day;
And the night to Raptures of Love we'll pay.
Thus should Youth in Pleasures reign;
And Gods that cannot put on Earth again,
Shall wish for such delights in vain.
WHy should we ere think of Love?
Pox upon't, the Gods above
The Torments on't cou'd ne'r remove.
But if Lovers we must be,
God Bacchus shall be our Deitie:
For Wine alone can make us free.
Let's sing and throw Love-thoughts away,
Which still does make our Health decay,
And our Wit too often run astray.
But Wine is so divine a thing,
Let's all its praises dayly sing,
Seeing nought but that can pleasure bring.
An excellent SGNG.
ALas, what shall I do!
I have taken on me now
To make a Song, I vow:
A wo is me!
I am commanded to't;
I dare not stand it out,
Though I'm put to the rout:
It so must be.
Thou shalt do't;
Then stand to't,
I'll set my Muse afoot,
With a good chirping Cup.
There may some hidden Mine
Spring from the Juice of Wine;
Then tak't and drink it up.
Pox on't, it will not do;
I must have t'other two;
I claim it as my due,
And must lov't:
For where the Land is dry,
The good Husband doth hie
To bring the water nigh
Here's the use of the Juice;
Open me then the Sluce,
And die my Wit in grain.
That Soul's ne'r empty
That takes it in plenty;
'Tis the onely Spring of the Brain.
Madam, now you may see
What Obedience is in me;
I have done what may be
For to obey.
I have set my Muse on foot,
With the sprightly Grape to boot,
That commands me do't:
'Tis they must sway.
If my Pate, soon or late,
Shall bring forth some conceit;
To you my wit I owe.
If I do fall flat,
It is, mark you that,
I'm a Cup too low.
If I spoke sence enough,
Or did speak but stuff,
All is alike to me:
I'll never pause upon't.
You were the cause on't;
And that's my Apologie.
On a Beautiful Miss.
I Know I'm no Poet;
My Song will soon show it:
But my Sorrows do flow like a Spring.
Although they do shame me,
The world cannot blame me,
That I should thus dolefully sing.
Page 106My loss is so great,
And such a Defeat
No Mortal had ever before:
For she had every Feature
Of a beautiful Creature;
And no man can say any more.
Her Lips, it is true,
Were of Coventry-blue;
But her Hair was a fine Bow-dye.
Her Stature was low,
But her Nose was not so:
For 'twas O most delicate high.
Her upper Lip thin,
Which finely turn'd in,
And her Teeth were as black as a coal:
But her under stood out
To receive from her Snout
The droppings that came from each hole.
Though some Teeth she wanted,
The rest were so planted,
That Nature did shew no neglect:
What in some she deni'd,
She in others suppli'd,
Because there should be no defect.
'Tis true, we do know
Sh'ad some gaps below,
But yet it was plain to be seen
That her upper Teeth met 'em,
Nature so well had set 'em,
Like Tallies they clapt in between.
Thus with a good grace
They took their due place,
And they stood hither and thither;
We plainly may see
They all did agree,
And lovingly met together.
To stand in a row
Is common, you know;
But the best and the newest way,
Is to see, without doubt,
Teeth stand in and out,
As if they were dancing the Hay.
No Needle nor Pin
Was so sharp as her Chin,
Which her Nose did so lovingly meet,
That like Sister and Brother
They kist one another;
It was a great pleasure to see't.
No Globe cou'd be found
So perfectly round,
As her Back was, by all that mind her.
And to give her her due,
Her Head turn'd like a Skrew
To study the Globe behind her.
Her Breath it was strong,
Her Legs short and long,
To make up her perfect shape;
Her Cheeks were like Lent
When 'tis almost spent,
And her Face was as sweet as an Ape.
Her Skin might be taken
For a gammon of Bacon;
Page 108Her Brests, never Trencher so flat;
So fine was her mouth,
That it stood North and South;
And sh'ad delicate Eyes like a Cat.
I think it is meet
To speak of her feet,
And tell you how well they were made;
I will not deceive ye,
But if you'll believe me,
They had the true shape of a Spade,
So fine and so flat;
But when she did pat,
So even a guard she did keep:
With legs high and low,
That when she did go,
You'd think she were playing Bo-peep.
But this Narration
Breeds such molestation
Within my unfortunate breast,
I can say no more,
But must give it ore,
And leave you to guess at the rest.
Search all the world round,
None such can be found,
So well she pleased my Pallet;
That I'll pine all my life
For the loss of my Wife:
And there is an end of my Ballet.
The Patient Man, and the Scolding Wife.
M. WIfe, come gi' me thy hand now,
And sit thee down by me;
There's never a man in the Land now
Shall be more loving to thee.
W. I hate to sit by such a Drone;
Thou ly'st like a Log in my Bed.
I had better a lain alone:
For I still have my Maidenhead.
M. Wife, prethee now leave off thy ranting,
And let us both agree;
There's nothing else shall be wanting,
If thou wo't be ruled by me.
W. I will have a Coach and a Man,
And a Saddle-horse to ride;
I also will have a Sedan,
And a Footman to run by my side.
M. Thou sha't have all this, my dear Wife,
And thou sha't bear the Sway;
Nay, I'll provide thee good Cheer, Wife,
'Gainst thou com'st from the Park or a Play.
W. I'll have every week a new Gown,
And a Petticoat died in Grain,
Of the modishest Silk in the Town;
And a Page to hold up my Train.
M. Thou sha't have this too, my sweet Wife,
If thou't contented be,
Or any thing else that is meet, Wife,
If thou wo't be ruled by me.
W. I will have a Gallant or two,
And they shall be handsome men;
And I'll make you to know your kue,
When they come in and go out agen.
M. Methinks a couple's too few, Wife;
Thou sha't have three or four:
And yet I know thou't be true, Wife,
Although thou hadst half a score.
W. I will have as many as I please,
In spight of your teeth, you fool;
And when I have the Pocky disease,
'Tis you that shall empty my Stool.
M. Why how now, you brazen-fac'd Harlot!
I'll make you to change your note;
And if ever I find that you snarl at
My actions, I'll bang your Coat.
Nay, I'll make you to wait, you Flaps,
At Table till I have din'd;
And I'll leave you nothing but Scraps,
Till I find you better inclin'd.
W. Sweet Husband, I now cry Peccavi;
You know we women are frail:
And for the ill words that I gave ye,
Ask pardon, and hope to prevail.
For now I will lie at your foot,
Desiring to kiss your hand;
Nay, cast off my Gallants to boot,
And still be at your command.
The Doating Lover.
WAs ever man so happy as I, Sir!
My Mistriss has gi'n me a kiss:
But I full long at her door did lie, Sir,
Before I cou'd compass this.
I cring'd, and I bow'd,
And I sung to my Crowd;
But never cou'd get it before.
And if but another I may be allow'd,
I'd lie there a twelve month more.
Though for a time she did deprive me
The favour of seeing her face,
That balmy Kiss did so revive me,
It made me take heart a grace.
And if as I see
Such Vertue there be
In one poor innocent Kiss,
I'll give my Estate, whatere be my fate,
To get such another as this.
For he that's possest with Riches and Honour,
May meet with a cruel Dame;
'Twill signifie nothing until he has won her
To answer his amorous flame.
Let him hunt, let him hawk,
Let him drink, let him talk,
And strive to forget her disdain:
He ne'r in his breast will have any rest,
Until he comes to her again.
A Song on a Wedding.
NOw that Loves Holiday is come,
And Madge the Maid hath swept the Room,
And trim'd her Spit and Pot;
Awake, my merry, my merry Muse, and sing
The Revels, and that other thing
That must not be forgot.
As the gray Morning dawn'd, 'tis sed,
Clarissa broke out of her bed,
Like Cynthia in her pride;
Where all the Maiden-Lights that were
Compriz'd within our Hemisphere,
Attended at her side.
But wot you then, with much ado
They drest the Bride from top to toe,
And brought her from her Chamber,
Deck'd in her Robes and Garments gay,
More sumptuous than the flow'rs in May,
Or Stars inshrin'd in Amber.
The sparkling Bullies of her Eyes,
Like two eclipsed Suns did rise
Beneath her Cristal Brow,
To shew by those strange accidents,
Some changeable Events
Were like to hap below.
Her Cheeks bestreakt with white and red,
Like pretty Tel-tales of the Bed,
Presag'd the blustring night
With his incircling arms and shade,
Resolv'd to swallow and invade,
And skreen her Virgin-light.
Her Lips, those threads of Scarlet-die,
Wherein Loves Charms and Quiver lie,
Legions of Sweets did crown;
Which smilingly did seem to say,
O crop me, crop me, whilst you may;
Anon they're not mine own.
Her Breasts, those melting Alps of Snow,
On whose fair hill, in open show,
The God of Love lay napping,
Like swelling Buts of lively Wine,
Upon the Ivory stalls did shine,
To wait the lucky tapping.
Her Waste, that slender Type of man,
Was but a small and single span;
Yet I dare safely swear,
He that whole thousands has in fee,
Wou'd forfeit all, so he might be
Lord of the Mannor there.
But now, before I pass the Line,
Pray, Reader, give me leave to dine,
And pause here in the middle;
The Bridegroom and the Parson knock,
With all the Hymeneal flock,
The Plum-cake and the Fiddle.
Whenas the Priest Clarissa sees,
He star'd as't had bin half his fees
To gaze upon her face.
And if the Spirit did not move,
His Continence was far above
Each sinner in the place.
With mick stir he joyn'd their hands,
And hamper'd 'em in Marriage-bands
As fast as fast might be.
Where still methinks, methinks I hear
That secret Sigh in every ear,
O Love, remember me.
Which done, the Cook he knockt amain,
And up the Dishes in a train
Came smoaking two and two.
With that they wipt their mouths and sate,
Some fell to quaffing, some to prate;
Aye marry, and welcome too.
In Pairs they thus impal'd the Meat,
Roger, and Marget, and Thomas, and Kate,
Rafe and Bess, Andrew and Maudlin,
And Valentine eke, with Sybil so sweet,
Whose Cheeks on each side of her Snuffers did meet,
As round and plump as a Codlin.
When at the last they'd fetcht their fees,
And mir'd their stomach up to th' knees
In Claret, for and good Chear,
Then, then began the merry din:
For 'twas thought they were all on the Pin.
O what kissing and clipping was there!
But as luck would have't, the Parson said Grace,
And to frisking and dancing they shuffled apace.
Each Lad took's Last by the fist;
Who there did kiss her and turn her, until
The fat of her face ran down like a Mill;
He toul'd for the rest of the Grist.
In sweat and in dust having wasted the day,
They enter'd on the last Act of the Play.
The Bride to her Bed was convey'd;
Where knee-deep each hand fell down to the ground,
And in seeking the Garter, much pleasure was found;
'Twou'd a made a mans arm have stray'd.
This Clutter ore, Clarissa lay
Half-bedded, like the peeping day,
Behind Olympus Cap;
Whilst at her head each twittering Girl
The fatal Stockin quick did whirl,
To know the lucky hap.
The Bridegroom in at last did ruffle,
All disappointed in the bustle,
The Maids had shav'd his Breeches.
But let him not complain, till then
In such a storm, I can tell when,
He sav'd his other Stitches.
And now he bounc'd into the Bed,
Even just as if a man had sed,
Fair Lady, have at all.
Where twisted at the hug they lay,
Like Venus and the sprightful Boy:
O who wou'd fear the fall!
Thus both with Loves sweet Tapers fir'd,
A thousand balmy Kisses tir'd,
They cou'd not wait the rest.
But out the Folk and Candles fled,
And to't they went; but what they did,
There lies the Cream o'th' Jest.
A positive Farewel to Love.
WHen in the month of January,
Ripe Apples grow on Trees;
When Butter doth in Fehruary,
At once both thaw and freeze;
When Horses flie, Beasts headless walk;
When Chairs and Stools do move;
When Mutes as fast as Women talk;
Then will I fall in love.
When Cherries in the month of March
As ripe are as in June;
When men instead of Corn sow Starch;
When Bears do sing in tune;
When Fishes on the Trees do chatter;
When Womens Tongues ne'r move;
When Men forbear to lie and flatter;
Then will I fall in love.
If when it rains, the ground be dry;
Or when 'tis foul, fair weather;
When Sun and Moon shall in the Sky
Both meet and dance together;
When the Heavens fall where th' Earth doth stand,
And th' Earth doth mount above,
And I can grasp both in my hand;
Then will I fall in love.
A Lover he no Will doth know;
He cannot speak or stir:
He is a Child, and cannot go,
But as he's mov'd by her.
Whilst I still by my self do move,
And to my Pleasures bend:
Then farewel unto shitten Love.
And so I'll make an end.