Poor Robin's jests: or, The compleat jester Being a collection of several jests not heretofore published. Now newly composed and written by that well-known gentleman, Poor Robin, knight of the burnt island, and well-willer to the mathematicks. Together with the true and lively effigies of the said author. Licensed Feb. 2. 1666. Roger L'Estrange.

To the Intelligible Reader.

DId not Custom claim an E∣pistle, I might have saved my self this labour of writing one; and yet let me tell thee, that good Wine may be sold within, although there hangs no Bush at the door. Now thou dost expect (I suppose) that I should say something of these Jests; if I should tell thee that they were all good, I think thou wouldst not be∣lieve me; and if thou shouldst say they were all bad, I profess I should not believe thee. I suppose they are not like to the women in the World, because here is more good ones then bad ones; whereas amongst them,

there is more bad then good: if af∣ter the perusal of them thou finde fault, reflect upon thy self, whether thou hast not more Vices then Ver∣tues within thee, and forbear to cen∣sure too rigidly, lest a wiser head then thy own commending them, thou for thy pains be accounted a fool.

But me thinks I hear some long∣ear'd fellow to say that the most of these are but Collections, the Works of other men; and therefore the less to be regarded: why Apes-face, let me ask thee this Question; Is the Honey the worse, because the Bee sucks it out of many flowers? or is the Spiders Web the more to be praised, because it is extracted out of her own Bowels? Wilt thou say the Taylor did not make the Gar∣ment, because the Cloath it was made of, was weaved by the Weaver? 'Tis true, many of these Jests were delivered before by others; but with so much prolixity, and in such a

rough stile, as was both tedious and unpleasant to the Reader; but now they are so ordered, that the worst of them all may pass with approbati∣on, if thou doest not marre their sence, by thy ill-favour'd reading of them; which if thou shouldest do in my hearing, I profess, as I am a true man, an honest man, and no Taylor, I should be very angry with thee for thy labour.

And now let me tell thee, that be∣sides the old, here is a great many new ones; yea, spick and span new, scattered amongst the others (like Plumbs in a Cake) to make the old ones to relish the better: and indeed Jests are like Cakes, which should have in them the sweet Plumbs of pleasant language, spiced with de∣light, and sugered with pleasure; but the nearest resemblance is, that Jests and Cakes are both of them best when they are broken.

Now if thou likest them, so; if thou

dislike them, then so, so: but if thy teeth stand like an old Park-pale, here one rotten, and there one out; forbear to read them before thy Sweet-heart, lest when thou grinnest, thou discover so much, as to help thee, thou be forced to flee to the old Proverb for refuge, That those whose teeth are out kiss softly.

Much more might be said, if there were a necessity for it; but if thou beest not wise, then thou art other∣wise; now if thou beest wise, then a word to the wise is sufficient; and if beest otherwise, all the words that I can use, will not make thee a wise man.

Next, a word or two to the women, and then I will conclude: Two sorts of the Female Sex would I advise by all means not to read this Book; viz. those women that have made their Husbands Cuckolds, and those that paint their faces. For the first sort, those women that wear Cork-shooes,

which makes them to be light-heel'd, let them not dare to touch it, lest they meet with some passages in it, which may make them to blush as red, as if they had been drinking of burnt-Cla∣ret; when they consider with them∣selves, that by their doing, and being done, their Husbands, who (had they had honest Wives) might have lived and dyed handsome, fine, smooth-foreheaded men, now by these wag∣tails are metamorphosed into such-kinde of Creatures, as Bulls, Oxen, Stags, Rams, Goats, Humble-bees and Snayles.

Then for those that paint their faces, if they should laugh them∣selves into an extraordinary Sweat, it might chance to spoil their com∣plexions, by reason of their Fucus melting off; let them therefore for∣bear, forewarn'd, forearm'd: for all other sorts of women, let them read and welcome, laugh till they be∣piss

themselves, it is but washing their Smocks again; so fall too, and much good may it do you.

Yours in all civil Mirth, POOR ROBIN.