Wit restor'd in several select poems not formerly publish't.

About this Item

Title: Wit restor'd in several select poems not formerly publish't.
Author: Mennes, John, Sir, 1599-1671.
Publication: London :: Printed for R. Pollard, N. Brooks, and T. Dring, and are to be sold at the Old Exchange, and in Fleetstreet,; 1658.
Rights/Permissions: To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
Subject terms: Humorous poetry.; Burlesques.
Link to this Item: http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A52015.0001.001
Cite this Item: "Wit restor'd in several select poems not formerly publish't." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A52015.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed April 27, 2025.

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THE INNOVATION OF Vlysses and Penelope.

O All ye 1 1.1 Cliptick Spirits of the Sphaeres
That have or 2 1.2 sense to hear or 3 1.3 use of eares,
And you in number 4 1.4 twelve Caelestiall Signes
That Poets have made use of in their lines,
And by which men doe know what Seasons good
To gueld their Bore-piggs, and let Horses blood;
List to my dolefull glee, ô 5 1.5 list I say,
Unto the Complaint of Penelopay.

Page 150

She was a Lo•…•…er, I, and so was hee
As loving unto her, and he to 6 1.6 she:
But mark how things were al•…•…er'd in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mo∣ment
Ulysses was a Graecian born, I so meant
To have inform'd you first; but since 't is or'•…•…,
It is as 7 1.7 well, as had it been before:
He being as I said, a Greek there rose
A Quarrell 'twi•…•…t the Trojans and their 8 1.8 foes,
I mean the Graecians, whereof he was 9 1.9 one,
But let that pass, he was La•…•…rtes Sonne.
Yet least some of the difference be ig-norant,
It was about a 1 1.10 Wench, you may hear more 2 1.11 on't
In Virgils Aeneids, and in Homer too;
How Paris lov'd her, and no more adoe
But goes and steales her from her Husband: wherefore
The Graecians took their Tooles, and fighted therefore.

Page 151

And that you may perceive they were stout 3 1.12 Signiors,
The Combat lasted for the space of ten 4 1.13 years.
This Gallant bideing where full many a Mo∣ther
Is oft bereav'd of Child, Sister of Brothe,
His Lady greatly longing for his presence
5 1.14 Writ him a Letter, whereof this the Sense.
"My pretty Duck, my Pigsnie, my Ulysses,
"Thy poor Penelope sends a 6 1.15 thousand Kisses
"As to her only Ioy, a hearty greeting;
"Wishing thy Company, but not thy meeting
"With enemies, and fiery Spirits in Armour,
"And which perchance may do thy bedy harme∣or
"May take thee Pisoner, and clap on thee bolts
"And locks upon thy legges, such as weare Colts.
"But send me word, and e're that thou want r•…•…∣some
"Being a man so comely, and so handsome,
"Ile sell my Smocke both from my backe and 7 1.16 belly

Page 152

"E're you want Money, Meat, or Cloathes, I tell yee.
When that Ulysses, all in grief enveloped,
Had markt how right this Letter was Penelo∣ped.
Laid one hand on his heart, and said't was guilty,
Resting the other on his Dagger-hilty,
Thus gan to speake: O thou that dost con∣troule
All beauties else, thou hast so bang'd my soule
With this thy lamentation, that I sweare,
I love thee strangely, without wit or fear;
I could have wish'd (quoth he,) my selfe the Paper
Inke, Standish, Sandbox, or the burning Ta∣per,
That were the Instruments of this thy write∣ing
Or else the Stool whereon thou sat'st inditing:
And so might have bin neer that lovely breech
That never yet was troubled with the 8 1.17 Itch.
And with the thought of that, his Sorrow doubled
His heart with wo, was so Cuff'd and Cornub∣led,

Page 153

That he approv'd one of his Ladyes Verses,
(The which my Author in his booke rehear∣ses)
'Tis true quoth he, 9 1.18 Loves troubles make me tamer,
Res est Soliciti plena timoris Amor.
This said, he blam'd himselfe, and chid his folly
For being so ore-rul'd with melancholly,
He call'd himself, Fool, Coxecombe, Asse, and Fop,
And many ascurvy name he reckon'd up,
But to himself, this language was too rough,
For certainly the Man had wit enough:
For he resolves to leave his Trojan foes,
And go to see his Love in his best Cloaths.
But marke how he was cross'd in his in∣tent,
His friends suspected him incontinent:
And some of them suppos'd he was in love,
Because his eyes all in his head did move,
Or more or less then used, I know not which
But I am sure they did not move so mich
As they were wont to doe: and then 'twas blasted.
Ulysses was in love, and whilst that lasted

Page 154

No other newes within the Camp was spoke of,
And many did suppose the Match was broke off,
But he conceal'd himself, nor was o're hasty
To shift his Cloaths, though now grown some∣what nasty.
But having wash'd his hands in Pewter Ba∣son,
Determines for to get a Girle or a Son,
On fair Penelope, for he look'd trimmer
Then young Leander when he learn'd his 1 1.19 Primer,
To Graece he wends apace, for all his hope
Was only now to see faire Penelope:
She kemb••d her head, and wash'd her face in Creame
And pinch'd her cheeks to make the 2 1.20 redde bloud stream
She don'd new cloaths, and sent the old ones packing,
And had her shoes rub'd over with Lamp 3 1.21 blacking,
Her new rebato, and a falling band,
And Rings with severall poesies on her hand.

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A stomacher upon her breast so bare.
For Strips and Gorgets was not then the weare.
She thus adorn'd to meet her youthfull Lover
Heard by a Post-boy, he was new come over:
She then prepares a banquet very neat
4 1.22 Yet there was not a bit of Butchers meat
But Pyes, and Capons, Rabbits, Larkes, and Fruit;
Orion on a Dolphin, with his 5 1.23 Harpe,
And in the midst of all these dishes stood
A platter of Pease-porridg, wondrous good,
And next to that the god of Love was plac'd,
His Image being made out of Rye-paste,
To make that good, which the old Proverb speaks
[The one the Heart, 't other the belly breaks.]
Ulysses seeing himself a welcome Guest
Resolves to have some Fidlers at the Feast:
And 'mongst the various Consort choosing them
That in their sleeves the armes of Agamem-
Non, in the next verse, wore: Cry'd in a rage
Sing me some Song made in the Iron-Age.

Page 156

The Iron-Age, quoth he that used to sing?
This to my mind the Black-Smith's Song doth bring
The Black-Smiths, quoth Ulisses? and there holloweth,
Whoope! is there such a Song? Let's ha't. It followeth,

The Black-Smith. As it was sung before Ulysses and Penelope at their Feast, when he returned from their Trojan Warrs, collected out of Homer, Virgill and Ovid, by some of the Modern Familie of the Fancies.

OF all the trades that ever I see,
There's none with the Blacksmith compar'd may be,
With so many severall tooles workes hee
Which Nobody can deny,

The first that ever thunderbolt made,
Was a Cyclops of the Blacksmiths trade,
As in a learned author is sayd,
Which Nobody, &c.

When Thunderingly we lay about
The fire like lightening flasheth out;
Which suddainly with water wee d'out.
Which No, &c.

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The fayrest Godesse in the skyes
To marry with Vulcan did devise,
Which was a Blacksmith grave and wise
Which, &c.

Mulciber to do her all right
Did build her a Towne by day and by night,
Which afterwards he Hammersmith hight
Which, &c.

And that no Enemy might wrong her
Hee gave her Fort she need no stronger,
Then is the lane of Ironmonger,
Which, &c.

Vulcan farther did acquaint her
That a pritty estate he would appoynt her,
And leave her Seacoale-lane for ajoynture.
Which, &c

Smithfeild he did free from dirt,
And he had sure great reason for't
It stood very neare to * 1.24 venus court
Which, &c.

But after in good time and tide,
It was to the Blacksmiths rectifyed,
And given'em by Edmond •…•…rouside,
Which, &c.

At last * 1.25 he made a Nett or traine,
In which the God of warre was t'ane,
Which ever since was call'd Pauls chaine
Which, &c.

The common proverb, as it is read,
That we should hit the nayle o'the head:

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Without the Blacksmith cannot be said, Which, &c.

There is another must not be forgot
Which falls unto the Blacksmiths lot,
That we should strike while the I'rons hott,
Which, &c.

A third lyes in the Blacksmiths way
When things are safe as old-wives say,
They have 'em under lock and key,
Which, &c.

Another proverb makes me laugh
Because the Smith can challenge but halfe;
When things are as Plaine as a Pike staffe,
Which, &c.

But't other halfe to him does belong;
And therefore, do the Smith no wrong,
When one is held to it hard, buckle and thong,
Which, &c.

Then there is a whole one proper and fit
And the Blacksmith's justice is seene in it,
When you give a man rostmeat and beat him with spitt,
Which, &c.

Another proverb does seldome fayle,
When you meet with naughty beere or ale,
You cry it is as dead as a dore nayle,
VVhich, &c.

If you stick to one when fortunes wheele
Doth make him many losses feele
We say such a friend is as true as steele.
VVhich &c.

Page 159

Ther's one that's in the Blacksmith's bookes,
And from him alone for remedy lookes.
And that is he that is offo'the hookes.
Which, &c.

Ther's ner'a slutt, if filth over-smutch her
But owes to the Blacksmith for her leatcher:
For without a payre of tongs no man will touch her
Which, &c.

There is a lawe in merry England
In which the Smith has some command
When any one is burnt in the hand;
Which, &c.

Banbury ale a halfe-yard-pott,
The Devill a Tinker dares stand to't;
If once the tost be hizzing-hott.
Which, &c.

If any Taylor has the Itch,
Your Blacksmith's water, as black as pitch,
Will make his fingers goe thorow-stitch.
Which, &c.

A Sullen-woman needs no leech,
Your Blacksmiths Bellowes restores her speech
And will fetch her againe with wind in her Breech.
Which, &c.

Your snuffling Puritans do surmise,
That without the Blacksmiths mysteries,
St: Peter had never gotten his keyes,
VVhich every one can deny,

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And further more there are of those
Tha•…•… without the Blacksmiths help do suppose
St: Dunstan had never tane the Divel by the nose
Which Nobody can deny.

And though they are so rigid and nice
And rayle against Drabs, and Drinke, and Dice
Yet they do allowe the Blacksmith his vice
Which, &c.

Now when so many Haeresies fly about,
And every sect growes still more in doubt
The Blacksmith he is hammering it out,
Which, &c.

Though Serjeants at law grow richer far,
And with long pleading a good cause can marr
Yet your Blacksmith takes more pains at the Barr,
Which, &c.

And though he has no Commander's look
Nor can brag of those he hath slayn and took,
Yet he is as good as ever strooke.
Which, &c.

For though he does lay on many a blow
It ruines neither freind nor foe;
Would our plundering-souldiers had don so,
Which every one can deny.

Though Bankrupts lye lurking in their holes
And laugh at their Creditors, and catchpoles,
Yet your Smith can fetch em over the coales.
Wh•…•…ch Nobody can deny.

Our lawes do punish severely still,
Such as countersit, deed, bond, or bill,

Page 161

But your Smith may freely forge what he will Which, &c.

To be a Jockey is thought a fine fear,
As to trayne up a horse, and prescribe him his meat
Yet your smith knowes best to give a heat.
Which, &c.

The Roreing-Boy who every one quayles
And swagge•…•…s, & drinks, & sweares and rayles,
Could never yet make the Smith eat his nayls.
Which, &c.

Then if to know him men did desire,
They would not scorne him but ranck him higher
For what he gets is out of the fire.
Which. &c.

Though Ulysses himselfe has gon many miles
And in the warre has all the craft & the wiles,
Yet your Smith can sooner double his files.
Which, &c,

Sayst thou so, quoth Ulysses, and then he did call
For wine to drinke to the Black-Smiths all,
And he vowed it should go round as a Ball
VVhich Nobody should deny.

And cause he had such pleasure t'ane,
At this honest fidlers merry straine,
He gave him the Horse-Shoe in Drury-lane
Which Nobody can deny.

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Where his posterity ever since
Are ready with wine, both Spanish & French,
For those that can bring in another Clench
Which Nobody can deny.

The song being don they drank the health, they rose They wo'd in verse, and went to bed in prose.

A Prologue to the Mayor of Quinborough.

LOe I the Maior of Qu•…•…borough Town by name,
With all my brethren saving one that's lame;
Are come as fast as fyery mil-horse gallops,
To meet thy grace, thy Queene, & her fair Trollops,
For reason of our comming do no look,
It must be don, I finde it i'th Town-book:
And yet not I my selfe, I scorne to read,
I keep a Clarck to do these jobbs at need.
And now respect a rare conceipt before Thong castle see thee,
Reach me the thing, to give the King, that other too, I prethee,
Now here they be, for Queene and hee, the guist's all steele, and leather,
But the conceit of mickle weight, and here they 're com together,

Page 163

To shew two loves must joyne in one, our Towne presents to thee, This gilded scabberd to the Queene, this dagger unto Thee.

A Song.

HEe that a happy life will lead,
In these times of distraction,
Let him list'n to me and I will him read
A lecture without faction.
Let him want three things whence misery springs,
They all begin with a letter.
Let him bound his desires to what nature requires,
And with reason his humor fetter.

Let not his wealth prodigious grow,
For that breeds care and dangers;
Makes him envi'd above, and hated below,
And a constant slave to strangers.
They're happiest of all whose estats are small
Though but enough to maintain 'um
They may do, they may say, having nothing to pay,
It will not quit cost to arraigne u'm.

Nor would I have him clogg'd with a wife,
For househould care and cumber,

Page 164

Nor to one place confine a mans lise:
Cause he cannot remove his lumber.
They are happier farr that unwedded are,
And forrage on all in common,
For all stormes they may flye, & if they should dye
They undo neither child nor woman.

Nor let his braines overflow with witt,
That savours on discretion;
'Tis costly to get and hard to keep
And dangerous. in the possession.
They are happyest men that can scarce tell ten,
And beat not their braines about reason;
They may say what will serve, themselves to preserve,
And their words are neare tak'n for treason.

Of fools there is none like to the Witt
For he takes paines to show it,
When his pride and his drinke brings him into his fit;
Then straight he must be a poet
Now his jests he flings at States and at Kings
For applause of bayes and shaddowes;
Thinkes a verse serves as well, as circle or spell
Till he rhimes himselfe to the Barbadoes.

He that within his bounds will keep,
May baffle all dysasters;
To fortune and fate commands he may give

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Which worldling•…•… call their masters;
He may dance, he may laugh, he may sing, he may quaffe,
May be mad, may be sad may be jolly,
He may walk without fear, and sleep without care,
And a fig for the world and its folly.

The drunken Lover. J. D. Delight.

I Dore, I dote, but am a sott to show't,
I was a very fool to let her know't;
For now she doth so cuning grow,
She proves a freind worse then a foe:
She will not hold me fast nor let me goe,
She tells me, I cannot forsake her;
Then straight I endeavor to leave her,
But to make me stay throw's a kisse in my way,
Oh then I could tarry for ever.

Then I retire, salute, and sit down by her,
There do I five in frost, and freeze in fire,
New Nectar from her lipps I sup.
And though I do not drink all up;
Yet am I drunk with kissing of the cup:
For her lipps are two brimmers of Clarret,
Where first I begin to miscarry:
Her brests of delight, are two bottles of white,
And her eyes are two cups of Canary.

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Drunk as I live, dead drunk beyond reprieve
For all my secrets dribble through a sive,
Her arme about my neck she laith,
Now all is Scripture that she saith
Which I lay hold on, with my fuddled faith,
I find a fond lover's a drunkard;
And dangerous is when he flyes out,
With hipps and with lipps, with black eyes and white thighes,
Blind Cupid sure tippled his eyes out.

She bids me, Arise, tells me I must be wise,
Like her, for she is not in love she cryes;
Then do I fret and fling and throw,
Shall I be fettered to my foe?
Then I begin to run but cannot goe
I pray thee, sweet, use me more kindly.
You had better for to hold me fast,
If you once disengage your bird from his cage,
Beleeve me hee'le leave you at last.

Lik a sot I sit that fild the towne with witt,
But now confesse I have most need of it;
I have been drunk with duck and deare,
A bove aquarter of a yeare:
Beyond the cure of sleeping or small beere,
think I can number the months to,
Iuly, August, September, October
Thus goes my account a mischeife upon't
But sure I shall goe when I am sober.

Page 167

My legs are lame, my courage is quite tam'de,
My heart and all my body is inflamde;
Now by experience I can prove.
And sweare by all the powers above;
Tis better to be drunk with wine then love.
Good sack makes us merry and witty,
Our faces with jwells adorning;
And though that we grope yet, there is some hope,
That a man may be sober next morning.

Then with command she throwes me from her hand,
She bids me goe yet knowes I cannot stand;
I measure all the ground by tripps,
Was ever Sot so drunk in sipps,
Or ever man so over seene in lipps,
I pray, maddam fickle, be faithfull,
And leave off your damnable dodging,
Pray do not deceive me, either love me or leave me,
And let me go home to my lodging.

I love too much but yet my sollie's such
I cannot leave, I must love to 'ther touch.
Heres a Health unto the King, how now?
I am drunk and speak treason I vow;
Lovers and fooles say any thing you know,
I feare I have tyred your patience,
But I am sure, tis I have the wrong on't,

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My wit is bereft me; for all that I have left me
Will but just serve to make me a song on't,
My mistris and I shall never comply,
And there is the short and the long on't.

To the Tune of The beginning of the World.

R. P. Delight.

O Mother, chave bin a batchelour,
This twelve and twanty yeare;
And I'ze have often beene a wowing,
And yet cham never the neare:
Ione Gromball chee'l ha' non s' mee,
Ize look so like a lowt;
But I vaith, cham as propper a man as zhe.
Zhee need not be zo stout.

She zaies ifize, cond daunce and zing,
As Thomas Miller con,
Or cut a cauper, as litle Iack Taylor:
O how chee'd love mee thon.
But zoft and faire, chil none of that,
I vaith cham not zo nimble;
The Tailor hath nought to trouble his thought
But his needel and his thimble,

O zon, th'art of a lawfull age,
And a jolly tidy boy,
Ide have thee try her once a gaine,
She can but say thee nay:

Page 169

Then O Gramarcy mother,
Chill zet a good vace o' the matter,
Chill dresse up my zon as fine as a dog
And chill have a fresh bout at her.

And first chill put on my zunday parrell
That's lac't about the quarters;
With a paire of buckram slopps,
And a vlanting paire of garters.
With my sword tide vast to my zide,
And my grandvathers dug'en and dagger
And a Peacocks veather in my capp
Then oh how I'ch shall swagger.

Nay tak thee a lockrum napkin son,
To wipe thy snotty nose,
T's noe matter vor that, chill snort it out,
And vlurt it athart my cloths:
Ods, bodikins nay fy away,
I prethee son do not so:
Be mannerly son till thou canst tell,
Whether sheele ha' thee or noe,

But zirrah Mother harke a while
Whoes that that comes so near?
Tis Ione Grumball, hold thy peace,
For feare that she doe heare.
Nay on't be she, chill dresse my words
In zuch a scholards grace,
But virst of all chall take my honds,
And lay them athwart her vace.

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Good morrow my honey my sugger-candy,
My litle pretty mouse,
Cha hopes thy vather and mother be well,
At home at thine own house.
I'ch am zhame vac't to show my mind,
Cham zure thou knowst my arrant:
Zum zen, Jug, that I mun a thee.
At leasure Sir I warrant.

You must (Sir Clowne) is for the King,
And not for such a mome,
You might have said, by leave faire maid.
And let your (must) alone.
Ich am noe more nor clowne thats vlat,
Cham in my zunday parrell,
I'ch came vor love and I pray so tak't,
Che hopes che will not quarrell.

O Robbin dost thou love me so well?
I vaith, abommination,
Why then you should have fram'd your words
Into a finer fashion.
Vine vashions and vine speeches too
As schollards volks con utter,
Chad wrather speak but twa words plaine
Thon haulfe a score and stutter.

Chave land, chave houss, chave twa va•…•… beasts,
Thats better thon vine speeches;
T's a signe that Fortune favours fooles
She lets them have such riches.

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Hark how she comes upon mee now,
I'd wish it be a good zine,
He that will steale any wit from thee
Had need to rise betime.

An Old Song.

BAck and sides go bare go bare,
And feet and hands go cold,
But let my belly have Ale enough
Whether it be new or old,
Whether it be new or old,
Boyes, whether it be new or old:
But let my belly have ale enough,
Whether it be new or old,

A beggar's a thing as good as a King,
If you aske me the reason why
For a King cannot swagger
And drink like a beggar
No King so happy as I:

Some call me knave and rascall slave,
But I know, how to collogue
Come upon Um, and upon 'um;
Will your worships and honour um,
Then I am an honest rogue, then I
Come upon um, and upon 'um will you wor∣ships:

Page 172

If a sart fiye away where he makes his stay,
Can any man think or suppose?
For a fart cannot tell, when its out where to dwell,
Unlesse it be in your nose, unlesse it be in your nose boyes, Unlesse it be in your nose.
For a fart cannot tell, when its out where to dwell
Unlesse it be in your nose.

The Sowgelder's Song, in the Beggers-Bush.

I Met with the Divell in the shape of a Ramme,
Over and over the Sow-gelder came,
I took him and haltred him fast by the horne,
And pickt out his stones as you'd pick out your cornes.
Oh quoth the Divell and with that he shrunk,
And left me a carkase of mutton that stunk.

Walking alone but a mile and a halfe,
I saw where he lay in the shape of a calfe;
I took him and gelt him e're he thought any e∣vill,
And found him to be but a sucking Divell.
Bla quoth the Divell and clapt down his taile,
And that was sold after for excellent veale.

Page 161

I met with the Divell in the shape of a Pigge,
I look't at the rogue, and he look't something bigge;
E're a man cold fart thrice, I had made him a hogge,
Oh quoth the Divell and then gave a Jerke
That the Jew was converted by eating of porke.

In woman's attire I met him full fine,
I took him at least for an Angell divine;
But viewing his crabb-face I fell to my trade,
And I made him forsweare ever acting a maid.
O quoth the Divell, and so ranne away,
And hid him in a Fryers gray weeds, as they say.

For halfe a yeare after it was my great chance
To meet with a gray coate that lay in a Trance,
I took him and I graspt him fast by the codds;
Betwixt his tongue and his taile I left little odds.
Oh, quoth the Divell, much harme hast thou done,
Thou art sure to be cursed of many a man.

My ram, calfe, my porke, my punk and my fryar,
I have left them unfurnish't of their best Lady ware;
And now he runs roaring from alehouse to Taverne,

Page 162

And sweares hee'le turn tutor to the swagger∣ing gallant:
But if I catch him Ile serve him no worse
For Ile lib him, and leave him not a peny in his purse.

A Song.

Three merry ladds met at the Rose
To speak the praises of the Nose,
The nose which stands in middle place
Sets out the beauty of the face;
The nose with which we have begunne,
Will serve to make our verses runne,
Invention often barren growes;
But still their's matter in the nose.

The nose is of so high a price,
That men prefer't before their eyes;
And no man counts him for his friend,
That boldly takes his nose by the end.
The nose that like Euripus flows,
The sea that did the wiseman pose.
Invention, &c.

The nose is of as many kinds,
As mariners can reckon winds,
The long, the short, the nose displayd;
The great nose which did fright the maid;
The nose through which the brother-hood
Did parley for their sisters good.
Invention, &c.

Page 163

The slat, the sharp, the roman snout,
The hawkes nose Circled round about:
The crooked nose that stands awry,
The ruby nose of Scarlet dye,
The Brazen-nose without a face
That doth the learned Colledge grace;
Invention, &c.

The long nose when the teeth appeare,
Shews what's a clock if the day be clear,
The broad nose stands in buckler place,
And takes the blowes from off the face;
The nose being plaine without a ridge,
Will serve sometimes to make a bridge.
Invention, &c.

The short nose is the Lovers blisse,
Because it hinders not a kisse.
The toating nose is a monstrous thing,
That's he that did the bottle bring:
And he that brought th•…•… •…•…ttle hither,
Will drink; oh monstrous! out of measure.
Invention, &c.

The fiery nose, in Lanthornes stead,
Will light its Master to his bed;
And who so ere that treasure owes,
Growes poore in purse, though rich in nose.
The brazen nose that's o're the gate,
Maintaines full many a Latin-pate.
Invention, &c.

Page 164

If any nose take this in snuffe,
And think it more then is enough;
We answer them, we did not fear,
Nor think such noses had been here.
But if there be, we need not care;
A nose of wax our Statutes are.
Invention now is barren growne;
The matters out, the nose is blown.

Phillada flouts me.

Oh! what a pain is love,
How shall I bear it?
Shee will inconstant prove,
I greatly feare it.
Shee so torments my mind,
That my strength faileth;
And wavers with the wind,
As a shippe that saileth.
Please her the best I •…•…y,
Shee looks another way.
A lack and well a day
Phillada floutes me.

All the fair yesterday,
She did passe by me;
She look't another way,
And would not spye me.
I woo'd her for to dine,
But could not get her.

Page 165

VVill had her to the wine,
Hee might intreat her.
With Daniel she did dance,
On me she look't a sconce.
Oh thrice unhappy chance,
Phillada floutes me.

Faire Maid, be not so coy,
Doe not disdaine me:
I am my mothers joy
Sweet entertain me.
Shee'l give me when she dyes,
All that is fitting,
Her Poultrey and her Bees
And her Geese sitting.
A paire of mattrisse bedds,
And a bagge full of shredds.
And yet for all this goods,
Phillada floutes me.

She hath a cloute of mine
Wrought with good Coventry,
Which she keeps for a signe
Of my fidelitie.
But i'faith, if she flinch,
She shall not weare it.
To Tibb my tother wench
I mean to beare it.
And yet it grieves my heart,
So soon from her to part.

Page 166

Death strikes me with his dart, Phillada floutes me.

Thou shallt eate Curds & Cream,
All the year lasting;
And drink the Christall stream,
Pleasant in tasting;
Wigge and whay whilst thou burst,
And ramble berry;
Pye-lid and pasty crust,
Pears, Plums, and Cherrey.
Thy raiment shalbe thin,
Made of a weavers skin,
Yet all's not worth a pinne,
Phillada floutes me.

Fair maidens, have a care,
And in time take me:
I can have those as fair,
If you forsake me.
For Doll the dairy-maide,
Laught on me lately,
And wanton VVinifrid
Favours me greatly.
One throws milk on my clothes,
T'other playes with my nose;
What wanton signes are those?
Phillada flouts me.

I cannot work and sleep
All at a season;

Page 167

Love wounds my heart so deep,
Without all reason.
I'gin to pine a way,
With greife and sorrow,
Like to a fatted beast,
Pen'd in a meadow.
I shall be dead I fear,
With in this thousand yeare;
And all for very feare.
Phillada flouts me.

The Milk-maids.

WAlkeing betimes close by a green wood side,
Hy tranonny, nonny with hy tranonny no;
A payre of lovely milk maides there by chance I spide
With hy tranonny nonny no, with tranonny no,

One of them was faire
As fair as fair might bee;
The other she was browne,
With wanton rowling eye.

Syder to make sillibubbs,
They carryed in their pailes;

Page 168

And suggar in their purses,
Hung dangling at their tailes.
Wa•…•…-coats of flannell,
And petty-coats ofredd.
Before them milk white aporns,
And straw-hats on their heads,

Silke poynts, with silver taggs,
A bout their wrists were shown;
And jett-Rings, with poesies
Yours more then his owne.

And to requite their lovers poynts and rings,
They gave their lovers bracelets,
And many pretty things.

And there they did get gownes
All on the grasse so green,
But the taylor was not skilfull,
For the stitches they were seen.

Thus having spent the long summers day,
They took their nut browne milk pailes,
And so they came away.

Well fare you merry milk maids
That dable in the dew
For you have kisses plenty,
When Ladyes have but few.

Page 169

The old Ballet of shepheard Tom.

AS I late wandred over a Plaine,
Upon a hill piping I spide a shephards swaine:
His slops were of green, his coat was of gray,
And on his head a wreath of willow & of bay.
He sigh'd and he pip't,
His eyes he often wip't,
He curst and ban'd the boy,
That first brought his annoy:
Who with the fire of desire, so inflam'd his minde,
To doate upon a lasse; so various & unkinde.

Then howling, he threw his whistle a way,
And beat his heeles agen the ground whereon he lay.
He swore & he star'dhe was quite bereft of hope,
And out of his scrip he pulled a rope:
Quoth he, the man that wooes,
With me prepare his noose;
For rather then I'le fry,
By hemp Ile choose to dy.
Then up he rose, & he goes streight unto a tree,
Where he thus complaines of his lasses cruelty,

A pox upon the divell, that ever twas my lot,
To set my love upon so wooddish a trot.

Page 170

Had not I been better took Ione of the mill,
Kate of the creame house, or bony bouncing Nell:
A Proud word I speak
I had them at my beck;
And they on holydayes
Would give me prick and praise.
But Phillis she was to me dearer then my eyes,
For whom I now indure these plaguy miseryes.

Oft have I woo'd her with many a teare,
With ribband for her head tire, and laces from the fayre,
With bone-lace and with shoone, with bracelets and with pinns,
And many a toy besides: good god forgive my sinns.
And yet this plaguy flirt
Would ding them in the dirte
And smile to see mee tear,
The locks from of my haire.
To scratch my chops, rend my slops, & at wakes to sit
Like to a sot bereft both of reason sense and witt.
Therefore from this bough Tom bids a dew
To the shepherds of the valley, and all the joviall crew.
Farewell Thump, my ram, and Cut my bobtaild curre,
Behold your Mr, proves his owne murtherer.

Page 171

Goe to my Philis, goe,
Tell her this tale of woe.
Tell her where she may finde
Me tottering in the winde.
Say on a tree she may see her Tom rid from all care,
Where she may take him napping as Mosse took his Mare.
His Philis by chance stood close in a bush,
And as the Clowne did sprawle, she streight to him did rush.
She cut in two the rope and thus to him she said,
Dispairing Tom, my Tom, thou hast undone a maid.
Then as one amaz'd.
Upon her face he gaz'd;
And in this wofull case,
She kist his pallid face,
He whoopt amaine, swore, no swaine ever more should be,
Soe happy in his love, nor halfe so sweet as she,

Obsequies.

DRaw not so near
Unlesse you shed a tear
On the stone,
Where I grone,
And will weepe,
Untill eternall sleepe

Page 172

Hath charm'd my weary eyes.
Flora lyes here,
Embalm'd with many a teare,
Which the swaines,
From the plaines,
Here have paid,
And many a vestall Maid
Hath mourn'd her obsequies:
Their snowy brests they tear,
And rend their golden hayre;
Casting cryes.
To Celestiall deityes,
To returne
Her beauty from the urne,
To raigne
Unparallel on earth againe.
When strait a sound,
From the ground,
Peircing the aire,
Cryes, shee's dead,
Her soule is fled,
Unto a place more rare.

You spirits that doe keep
The dust of those that sleep,
Under the ground,
Heare the sound
Of a swaine,
That folds his armes in vain,
Unto the ashes he adores.

Page 173

For pity doe not fright
Him wandring in the night:
Whilst he laves
Virgins graves
With his eyes,
Unto their memoryes,
Contributing sad showers.
And when my name is read,
In the number of the dead,
Some one may,
In Charity repay
My sad soul,
The tribute which she gave,

And howle
Some requiem on my grave.
Then weep noe more
Greife willnot restore
Her freed from care.
Though she be dead,
Her soule is fled
Unto a place more rare.

Of a Taylor and a Lowse.

A Lowse without leave a Taylor did molest,
The Taylor was forc'd the lowse to arrest;

Page 174

The Taylor of curtesie the lowse did release,
But she bitt the harder and stil broke the peace.
In this doubtfull matter, your counsell I crave,
What law of the lowse the Taylor may have,
A jury of beggers debating the cause,
Decree'd in their verdict that lyce should have lawes,
And therefore they say without further reciting
That lyce must be subject to the law of bac∣biting.
Which law doth provide for the party so greived
The low•…•…e so offending not to be repreived.
But straight to be taken and had to the jayle,
And after to suffer the crush of the nayle.

The old Ballad of Little Musgrave and the Lady Barnard.

AS it fell one holy-day, hay downe,
As many be in the yeare,
When young men and maids
Together did goe,
Their Mattins and Masse to heare,

Little Musgrave came to the church dore,
The Preist was at private Masse
But he had more minde of the faire women;
Then he had of our lady grace

Page 175

The one of them was clad in green
Another was clad in pale,
And then came in my lord Bernards wife
The fairest amonst them all;

She cast an eye on little Musgrave
As bright as the summer sun,
And then bethought this little Musgrave
This lady's heart have I woonn.

Quoth she I have loved thee little Musgrave
Full long and many a day,
So have I loved you fair Lady,
Yet never word durst I say.

I have a bower at Buckelsfordbery
Full daintyly it is geight.
If thou wilt wed thither thou little Mus∣grave
Thou's lig in mine armes all night.

Quoth he, I thank yee faire lady
This kindnes thou showest to me,
But whether it be to my weal or woe
This night I will lig with thee.

With that he heard a little tyne page
By his ladyes coach as he ran,
All though I am my ladyes foot page
Yet I am lord Barnards man

Page 176

My lord Barnard shall knowe of this
Whether I sink or sinn;
And ever where the bridges were broake
He laid him downe to swimme.

A sleepe or wake thou Lord Barnard,
As thou a•…•…t a man of life
For little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordbery:
A bed with thy own wedded wife.

If this be true thou little tinny Page,
This thing thou tellest to mee,
Then all the land in Bucklesfordbery
I freely will give to thee.

But if it be a ly, thou little tinny Page,
This thing thou tellest to me;
On the hyest tree in Bucklesfordbery
Then hanged shalt thou be.

He called up his merry men all
Come sadle me my steed,
This nigh•…•… must I to Buckellsfordbery,
For I never had greater need.

And some of them whistl'd & some of them sung,
And some these words did say;
And ever when my lord Barnards horn blew,
A way Musgrave a way.

Page 177

Me-thinks I hear the Thresel-cock,
Me-thinks I hear the Jaye,
Me-thinks I hear my Lord Barnard,
And I would I were away.

Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgrave
And huggell me from the cold,
Tis nothing but a shephards boy,
A driving his sheep to the fold.

Is not thy hawke upon a perch?
Thy steed eats oats and hay;
And thou fair Lady in thine armes,
And wouldst thou bee away?

With that my lord Barnard came to the dore
And lit a stone upon
He plucked out three silver keys,
And he open'd the dores each one.

He lifted up the coverlett,
He lifted up the sheet,
How now, how now, thou littell Musgrave
Doest thou find my lady sweet?

I find her sweet, quoth little Musgrave
The more 'tis to my paine,
I would gladly give three hundred pounds
That I were on yonder plaine.

Page 178

Arise arise thou littell Musgrave,
And put thy •…•…loth-es on,
It shal ne•…•…re be said in my country
I have killed a naked man.

I have two Swords in one scabberd,
Full deere they cost my purse:
And thou shalt have the best of them
And I will have the worse.

The first stroke that little Musgrave stroke,
He hurt Lord Barnard sore
The next stroke that Lord Barnard stroke
Little Musgrave ne're struck more.

With that bespake this faire lady,
In bed whereas she lay,
Although thou'rt dead thou little Musgrave,
Yet I for thee will pray,

And wish well to thy soule will I
So long as I have life,
So will I not for thee Barnard
Although I am thy wedded wife.

He cut her paps from off her brest,
Great pitty it was to see,
That some drops of this ladies heart's blood
Ran trickling downe her knee.

Page 179

Woe worth you, woe worth, my mery men all,
You were ne're borne for my good:
Why did you not offer to stay my hand,
When you see me wax so wood.

For I have slaine the bravest Sir Knight
That ever rode on steed,
So have I done the fairest lady
That ever did womans deed.

A grave, a grave, Lord Barnard cryd
To put these lovers in:
But lay my lady on upper hand
For she came of the better kin.

The Scots arrears.

FOwre hundred thousand pounds
A lusty bag indeed▪
Was't ever knowne so vast a sum
Ere past the river Tw•…•…de?

Grea•…•… pitty it is, I swear,
Whole carts was thither sent,
Where hardly two in fifty knew,
What forty shillings meant:
But 'twas to some perceiv'd,
Three kingdomes were undone.

Page 180

And those that sit heere thought it fitt,
To settle them one by one,
Now Ireland hath no haste,
So there theile not begin;
The Scottish ayde must first be pai'd,
For ye came freely in,
And William Lilly writes—
Who writes the truth you know;
In frosty weather they marched hither.
Up to the chins in snow.

Free quarter at excesse,
They do not weigh a feather,
Those Crowns for coals brought in by shoals;
Scarce kept their men together,
Of plunder they esteeme
As trifles of no worth,
Of force ye dote because recruite
Issued no faster forth.
If once this cash is paid
I hope the Scot be spedd,
He need not steale but fairly deal
Both to be cloth'd and fedd.
Our sheep and oxen may
Safe in their pastures stand,
What need they filch the cow
Thats milch to sojourne in their land.

I wonder much the Scot
With this defiles his hands,

Page 181

Because the summ's a price of Rome
Rays'd out of the Bishops lands,
But too too wel ye know
To what intent they in came
Twas not their paines produc'd this gaines
Twas sent to packe them home,
Mee thinks I heare them laugh
To see how matters proved,
And give ashout it so fell out,
Ye were more fear'd then loved,
〈◊〉〈◊〉 •…•…key after this
•…•…nge hath forgott
〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 fires hee much retires
〈◊〉〈◊〉 shows himselfe no Scott.

Page 182

Rebellis SCOTUS.

CUrae Deo sumus, ista si cedant Scoto?
Variat•…•… spleniis •…•…omina Ps•…•…che •…•…st suis.
Aut stell•…•… yea. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉,
Campanu•…•…ae omn•…•…s; totus Ucalegon suo,
Coriaceae cui millies mille hydriae,
Suburbicants pensiles par•…•…ciis
Non sint refrigerio. Poeticus furor,
Cometâ non min•…•…s, vel ore flammeo
Commune despuente fatum stellulâ,
Dirum ominatur. Ecquis, è Stoâ, suam
Iam temperet bilem? patria quando •…•…ue
Tam Pym•…•…ianâ, id est pediculosâ, perit?
Bombamachidis{que} fit bolus myrmeciis?
Scotos nec ausim nominare, carminum
Nisi inter amuleta, nec meditarier
Nisi c•…•…ebello, quod capillitio rubens
(Quale •…•…umo coluberrimum •…•…uriis caput)
Quot inde verba, tot v•…•…nena promp•…•…erit.
Rhadamantbe•…•…, fac, gutt•…•…r esset nu•…•…c mihi,
Sulphurque, patibul•…•…mque copiosius
Ructans, Magus qu•…•… c•…•…nias b•…•…nbycinas;
Poteram ut Agyr•…•… •…•…or, pill•…•…as
Vomicas loqui, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 •…•…yga:
Aut ut Gen•…•…vae Sie•…•…, Pe•…•…ers
Tartara, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 equ•…•…leos boare pulpitis:
At mchinan•…•… p•…•…r f•…•…rem nunquam Scoto,
Cun•…•…is Scl•…•…tis hi•…•… gutturalibus.
Ut dig•…•… D•…•…i du•…•…nt, vorem par est pri•…•…s,
(P•…•…giator u•…•…) sicas, & acinaces.

Is•…•…, h•…•…c, I ambe, gressibus faxo tuis
At huc, •…•…ambe, mo•…•…sibus faxo magis.
Satyr•…•…que tortri•…•…, tot huc adducite
Flagella, qu•…•…t pr•…•…sens mere•…•…ur seculum
Scoti •…•…enfieis pares; audax s•…•…ylum
Hor•…•…re tinge, sic nocent minus.

Page 184

Vt Martyres olim induebant belluis.
(Quasi sisterent Regis sacros hypocritas)
En hos eodem Sch•…•…mate (at retro) Scotos,
Extrà Scotos, intus feras, & sine tropo.
Fallax Ierna viperae nihil foves
Scoto Colono? Non ego Britanniam.
Lupis carentem dix•…•…rim, vivo Scoto.
Quin Thamesinus pyrgopolinices Scotus
Poterat leones, tigrides, ursos, cane•…•…
Proprii inquilinos pectoris spectaculo
Monstr•…•…sse; pro obolis omnibus quibus solet
Spectare monstra Cratis, & Fori simul
Poene ocreatum vulgus. Et patria fera
Scotos eremus indicat terrae plag•…•…
Vel omnipraesentem negans Deum, nisi
Venisset inde Carolus, cohors nisi
C•…•…afordiana, miles & Montro•…•…s,
Feritatis eluens notam pagan•…•…,
Hanc pr•…•…sset semivictimam Deo;
Nec Scoticus est, totus L•…•…pardus, Leo;
Habent & Ara•…•… sicut Arcam f•…•…deris
Velut tabellae bifi•…•…is pictae plicis
Fert Angelos pars haec, & haec Cacodaemonas:
Cui somnianti tartarum su•…•… pavor
Sic poenitere, viderat regnum velim
Nigrius Scotorum semel, & esset innocens.
Regio, malignâ quae facit votum prece,
Relegetur ad Gyares breves nunquam incola!
Pun•…•…sset ubi Cainum nec exilio Deus,
Sed, ut ille trechedipnum, magis Domicaenio.
Vt gens vagans recutita, vel contagium,
Aut Beclzebub, si des ubiquitarium.
Hinc crro fit semper Scotus, cer•…•…os locos,
Et hos & illos quoslihet cito nauseans,
Vt frusta divisi orbis, & Topograp•…•…iae
Mend•…•…citatis offulas, curt•…•…s nimis.

Page 186

Ipse universitatis haeres integrae,
Et totus in toto, natio Epidemica,
Nec gliscit ergo jargonre Gallicè,
Exoticis aut Indicis modis, neque
Iberio nutu negare, nec studet
Callere quem de Belgicis Hoghen moghen
Venter tumens, aut barba canthari refert.
(Quae Coriatis una mens nostratibus)
Pugna est in eni•…•…o, atque animus in patinâ Scoto.
Huic Struthioni sugger•…•…t cibum chalybs,
Et denti-ductor appetitus, baltheo,
Pro more, pendulos molares inserit.

At interim nostras quid involant dapes?
Serpens Edenum, non Edenb•…•…rgum appetit.
Aut Angliae, cui jam malum est Hemorrhois,
Haematopotas h•…•…s posteris meatibus
Natura medica supposuit hirudines
Cruore satiandos licèt nostro priùs,
Nostro sed & cruore moribundos quoque.

Nec computo credant priori, nos item
Novum addituros, servitutem pristinae
Aliam, gemellam nuperae, fraterculos
Palpare quando caeperant charos nimis,
(Suff•…•…agiorum scilicet poppysmata)
Et crustulum impertire velut •…•…ffam Cerbero
Subblandiens decreverat Senatulus.

Nos aera locu•…•…s arma visc eribus priùs
Indemus usque & usque vel capulo tenus.
Seri videmus quo Scotum tractes modo.
Princeps rebelli mitior tergo quasi
Sellas equino detrahen•…•… aptat suo.

At jus rapinas hasce defendit vetus?
Egyptus ista perdit, aufert Israel
An bibliorum nescis hos satellites?
Praetorianis queis cohortibus,
Hier•…•…salem triariis) spes nititur novae
Sororcularum? Cardo, cardo vertitur
Cupediarum, primitivae legis, &c.

Page 188

O bone Deus! quanti est carere linte is!
Orexis ut Borealis, & fames, movet!
Vi•…•…uque, vestibusque cassi, hinc Knoxio
Su•…•…ore simul, & Knoxio utuntur coquo,
Piè quod algeant, quod esurian•…•… piè.

Larvas quin usque detrahas, & nummulis
Titulisque, (ut animabus) su•…•…est fallacia.
Librae, & Barones (detumescant interim
Uocabulorum tympani) quanti valent!
Hic Cantianum paene, paene villicum,
Solidosque totos illa, sed gratis, duos.

Apagè superbae fraudulentiae, simul
Prosapiâ pictos, fide & pictos procul:
Opprobrium poetico vel stigmati
Etiam cruci crux. Non aliter Hyperbolus
Hyperscelestus ostracismo sit pudor.

Americanus, ille, qui coelum horruit
Quod Hispanorum repat eò sed pars quota!
Videra•…•… in Orco si Scotos, (hui tot Scotos!)
Roterodamus pependerat medioximus.
Sat musa! semissa fercularia
Medullitùs v•…•…rans, diabolis invides
Propriam sibi suam Scoti paropsidem.
Vt Berniclis enim Scoti, sic Lucifer
Saturatur ipsis Berniclatioribus.

Nam lapsus à furcâ Scotus, mox & Styge Tinctus, suum novatur in Plaut-Anserem.

FINIS.

Page 183

The Rebell SCOT.

HOw! Providence! and yet a Scottish crew!
Then Madam Nature wears black patches too?
What shall our Nation be in bondage thus
Unto a Land that truckles under us?
Ring the bells backward, I am all on fire,
Not all the buckets in a Country Quire
Shall quench my rage. A Poet should be fear'd,
When angry, like a Comet's flaming beard.
And where's the Stoick, can his wrath appease
To see his Countrey sick of Pym's disease?
By Scotch-invasion, to be made a prey
To such Pig-widgin Myrmidons as they?
But that there's charm in verse, I would not quo•…•…
The name of Scot without an antidote;
Unlesse my head were red, that I might brew
Invention there that might be poyson too.
Were I a drowsie Judge, whose dismal note
Disgorgeth halters as a Juglers throat
Doth ribbands: could I (in Sir Emp'rick tone)
Speak Pills in phrase, and quack destruction:
Or roar like Marshall, that Genevah Bull,
Hell and damnation a Pulpit full:
Yet to expresse a Scot, to play that prize,
Not all those mouth-Granadoes can suffice.
Before a Scot can properly be curst,
I must (like Hocus) swallow daggers first.

Come, keen Iambicks, with your badgers feet,
And Badger-like, bite till your feet do meet
Help, ye tarc Satyrists, to imp my rage,
With all the Scorpions that should whip this age,
Scots are like Witches; do but whet your pen;
Scratch till the bloud come, they'l not hurt you then.

Page 185

Now as the Martyrs were inforc'd to take
The shapes of beasts, like hypocrires at stake;
I'le bait my Scot so, yet not cheat your eyes,
A Scot, within a beast, is no disguise.

No more let Ireland brag, her harmlesse Nation
Fosters no Venom, since the Scot's plantation;
Nor can our feign'd antiquity maintain;
Since they came in, England hath Wolves again,
The Scot that kept the Tower, might have showne
(Within the grate of his own breast alone)
〈◊〉〈◊〉 Leopard and the Panther, and ingrost
•…•…t all those wild Collegiats had cost:
〈◊〉〈◊〉 honest high-shooes, in their termly fees,
〈◊〉〈◊〉 to the salvage Lawyer, next to these.
Na•…•…re her selfe doth Scotch-men beasts confesse,
Making their Countrey such a wildernesse,
A L•…•…nd that brings in question and suspense
Gods omni-presence, but that Charles came thence,
But that Montrosse and Crawfords loyal band
Atton'd their sins, and christ'ned half the Land;
Nor is it all the Nation hath these spots;
There is a Church, as well as Kirk of Scots:
As in a picture, where the squinting paint
Shews fiend on this side, and on that side saint:
He that saw Hell in's melancholy dream
And in the twi-light of his fancy's theam,
Scar'd from his sins, repented in a fright,
Had he view'd Scotland, had turn'd Proselyte.
A Land, where one may pray with curst intent,
O may they never suffer banishment!
Had Cain been Scot, God would have chang'd his doom,
Not fore't him wander, but confin'd him home.
Like Jews they spread, and as infection fly,
As if the devil had Ubiquity.
Hence'tis they live at Rovers, and desie
This or that place, rags of Geography.

Page 187

They're Citizens ot'h' world; they're all in all,
Scotland's a Nation Epidemical.
And yet they ramble not, to learn the mode
How to be drest, or how to lisp abroad;
To return knowing in the Spanish shrug.
Or which of the Dutch-States a double Jug
Resembles most, in belly, or in beard.
(The Card by which the Marriners are steer'd.)
No; the Scots-Errant sight, and sight to eat;
Their Ess•…•…rich-stomacks make their swords their meat
Nature with Scots, as Tooth-drawers hath dealt,
Who use to hang their teeth upon their belt.

Yet wonder not at this their happy choice;
The Serpent's fatal still to Paradise.
Sure England hath the Hemeroids, and these
On the North-posture of the patient seize,
Like Leeches, thus they physically thirst
After our bloud, but in the cure shall burst.

Let them not think to make us run o'th score,
To purchase villenage as once before,
When an Act pass'd to stroak them on the head,
Call them good Subjects, buy them Ginger-bread.

Nor Gold, nor Acts of grace, 'tis Steel must tame
The stubborn Scot: a Prince that would reclaim
Rebels by yeilding, doth like him, (or worse)
Who sadled his own back, to shame his horse.

Was it for this you left your leaner soil,
Thus to lard Israel with Aegypts spoyl?
They are he Gospels Life-guard, but for them
(The Garrison of new I•…•…rusalem)
Wha•…•… would the Brethren do'the cause! the cause!
Sack possets, and the fundamental Lawes!

Page 189

Lord! what a goodly thing is want of shirts!
How a Scotch-stomack, and no meat, converts!
They wanted food and rayment; so they took
Religion for their Seamstresse, and their Cook.

Unmask them well; their honours and estate
As well as conscience are sophisticate.
Shrive but their titles, and their money poize,
A Laird and twenty pounds pronounc'd with noise,

When constru'd, but for a plain Yeoman go,
And a good sober Two-pence, and well so.
Hence then, you proud Impostors, get you gone,
You Picts in Gentry and devotion;
You scandal to the stock of Verse, a race
Able to bring the Gibbet in disgrace.
Hyperbolus by suffering did traduce
The Ostracism, and sham'd it out of use,

The Indian, that heaven did •…•…orsweare,
Because he heard the Spaniards were there,
Had he but known what Scots in hell had been,
He would Erasmus-like have hung between:

My Muse hath done. A Voider for the nonce;
I wrong the devil, should I pick their bones.
That dish is his; for when the Scots decease,
Hell, like their Nation, feeds on Barnacles,

A Scot, when from the Gallow-tree got loose, Drops into S•…•…yx, and turns a Soland-Goose.

The End.