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.

About this Item

Title
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.
Author
Poor Robin.
Publication
London :: printed for Francis Kirkman and Richard Head,
[1667]
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Subject terms
Wit and humor -- Early works to 1800.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A66707.0001.001
Cite this Item
"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." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A66707.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 18, 2024.

Pages

Scoggin on the Book.

I Nither to have lived in great fame, But these queint Jests will quite eclipse my name, And put me down (so far they do excel) Even as a Bucket is put down a Well: For those whose Wits are dull, whose brains are dry, Here is at least a twelve-months fresh supply. Me thinks I see when Tom and Will doth read them, How all the Company with attention heed them:

Page [unnumbered]

Such store of mirth it breeds when they sit quaffing, That Jenny breaks her twatling-strings with laughing. My Commendations of them in this Verse, Is like my greazing the fat Sow o'th' Ar— For they are stor'd with so much mirth & sport, The longest Verse doth in their praise come short.
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