The twelve moneths, or, A pleasant and profitable discourse of every action, whether of labour or recreation, proper to each particular moneth branched into directions relating to husbandry, as plowing, sowing, gardening, planting, transplanting ... as also, of recreations as hunting, hawking, fishing, fowling, coursing, cockfighting : to which likewise is added a necessary advice touching physick ... : lastly, every moneth is shut up with an epigrame : with the fairs of every month / by M. Stevenson.

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Februarius 28 days

FEBRUARY.

NOw is the aspiring Sun got a Cock-stride of his climbing; and the humble Valleyes are covered with a Rug of snow, whilst the lofty Mountaines obvious to every blast are nipt to the heart with a cold. Neptune hath glazed his wavy Court, and left not ••o much as a Casement for his scaly subjects and finny friends to look out at; who are therefore gone downe to his Cellars to carouze it to the Sun, that Ambassadour of Heaven, that ere long will dissolve their icy fetters, and pay his golden beames for their ransome. The Frog goes to seek out the Paddock; and the Crow, and the Rook mislike their old Mates. The Usurer now is lapt in his furres, and the poor makes his breath a fire to his fin∣gers ends. Beauty is maskt for feare of the Aire, and the flea hath his subterfuge in the wool of a blanket. Cards and Dice have scarce yet got their Harvest in, and Sack, and good Ale are the cause of civill Warres, Muscovia Commodities are now in much request, and down beds, and quilted Caps are in the pride of their service, whilst the Cook and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Pantler are men of no meane office. An apple and a nutmeg make a merry Gossips feast; and the Ale and the Faggot are the Victuallers merchandise. The delay of Law-suits is the death of hope, and a cold almes mak••s the beggar shrug. The terme travellers makes the Shoo-makers Harvest, and the Chaundle••s Cheese makes the Chalk walk apace. The Fishmonger sorts his water-work for Lent, and beats the poor Stock-fish for his stubbo••nness, whilst the Herring domineers as a Lord of great Service, and though but yestarday a sorry Jack∣sprat, he calls himself King of Fishes. The fruit of the Dairy makes a hungry Feast whilst fasting and mourning is the Life of the poor, and the Dogs are grown leane fo•• want of bones, and make good Album Graecum a sca••ce Commodity. The Beasts of the forrest have a bare feed, and the hard Crufts try the beggars teeth. The barefooted Colt hath a ragged coat, and the half mew∣ed h••ad ••isgraceth the Deere. The Shepheard hath but little pleasure in hi•• pipe; and the Souldier finds cold comfort in the sconce. Penury pinches the Prisoners heart: and the deep fal∣lowes weary the Hunts-man. The Fisherman is now the Raker of the Sea, and every day sacrifices to his ow•• Net. The Aire is

sharp and piercing, and the winds blow cold: the Tavernes and the Inns seldome lack guests; and the Ostler knowes how to make p••ofit of his hay. The hunting Horse is at the heels of the Hound, whilst the ambling Nag carryes the Physitian and his foot cloth. The blood of youth begins to spring, and the sap to rise up out of the Root; Physick hath now work among weak bodies; and he looks well to himself that catches not an Ague before the end of this Month: there is nothing pleasing but hope that the dayes will lengthen and time be more comfortable. And for the small pleasure that I find in it, I will thus briefly conclude of it: It is the poor mans pick-purse, and the miser's Cut-throat; the enemy of pleasure, and the exercise of patience.

In this Month eschew all such things as oppilate and stop the Liver and Veines or doe thicken the blood, of which kind are Milk and Rice, and slimy fish; and yet also forbear medling with Physick or blood-letting, except necessity doth urge, and the Learned advise you. I gave you a hint of an Ague before, and if you have a mind to one catch cold and I will warrant you the other.

Now methinks I see 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Husbandman dresse afresh his rusty Plowshare to teare up the stiffer clay grounds, and the Garden∣er sending his Seeds their severall beds, and the Garden mould is made a Grave for the Beanes and the Pease.

The fliffer & colder the ground is, begin so much the sooner to Plow Prune & trim your fruit Trees, & cleanse them from mosse and Cankers, and from super••luous Branches, as in Ianuary. The best time of grafting from the time of removing your stock is the next Spring, for that saves a second wound and a repulse of Sap, if your Stock be of sufficient bignesse to take a graffe from as bigge as your thumb, to as big as a mans arme, you may graffe less (which I like) and bigger, which I like not so well. The best time of the yeare is in the last part of February or March, and the beginning of April, when the Sun with his heat begins to make the sap stir more rankly about the change of the Moon, before you see any great appearance of leafe or flowers, but only knots, and buds, and before they be proved, though it be sooner; Cherries, Pears, Apricock••, Quinces, and Plums would be gathered, and grafted sooner in February.

Forward Conyes begin now to kindle, and the fat grounds are not without Lambs, and it is now a good time for Ewes to bring

forth, that their Lambs may be strong, and able before May day to follow their Damms over the rough fallow Lands and deep water furrowes which weak and feeble Lambs are not able to do; and although you yean thus early in the winter when there is lit∣tle or no grasse springing, and the sharpnesse of the weather also be dangerous, yet the Husbandman must provide sweet fodder and convenient shelter, and the Shepheard must bestirre himself, and be vigilant to prevent all incident evills and incon∣veniences, and though the Ewe at the first be somewhat scarce of milk, yet as the warme weather encreaseth and the grasse be∣ginneth to spring, so will her Milk spring also.

Now does the stood over-run his banks and imitates the Ocean, and the gaping Oyster leaves his shell in the streets, while the house topping Peacock is pie-bakt for his Pride. Now runs the poor Hare for neither Pins nor poynts, but her life, and like that Senatour of Rome is followed and found out by her scent, to the losse of her life; and unequall Fate she must run for't, or with Cocles duel an Army. All the night when her eyes should be shut, she is forced to open her mouth in natures be∣halfe, and all the day she sets melan•••••••••• in a Bush, her open eyes are her Watch-Towers, and 〈…〉〈…〉 her Centinels, al∣wayes expecting an alarme from the enemy who too too often call her out and make her lead them a dance, but at last their deep notes are her knell and the Huntsmans Womb is her Tomb; as at fairest after a Course she makes her hearse in a Pye. Thus ends this eager pursuit after many doublings and windings squat∣tings and other shifts and sleights, and where is all the spoyle? but a pint of butter to a Kennel of Hounds; neverthelesse, though lit∣tle she is not without profit and worth the having: Her flesh, first, is good for all manner of Fluxes, her Brains good to make children breed their teeth with ease, her Wool excellent to stanch blood, her Gall soveraigne for the eyes, her blood to kill Rheume and Wormes, her stiffling bone being worne takes away the paine of the Crampe, with many other good things beside, and I beleeve her Furre-gown would doe no hurt to the knees that labour of a cold gout, especially in this cold moyst and raw Month of February.

The Names of the principall Fairs in England, and Wales, observed in the Month of February.

THe 1 day at Bromely in Lancashire: the 2 day at Bath, at Bicklesworth, at Bugworth, at Farringdon, at Codlemew, at Lin, at Maidstone, at Reading, at Becklesfield, at the Vizes in Wiltshire, at Whiteland: the 3 day at Boxgrove, at Brimley: the 6 day at Stafford for 5 dayes with all kind of Merchandise, without arrest: the 8 day at Tragarron: the 9 day at Landasse: the 14 at Owndlee in Northamptonshire, at Feversham: the 24 at Baldoc, Bourn, Froom, Henley upon Thames, Highamser∣ries, Tewksbury, Vppingham, Walden: the 26 at Stanford, an Horse Fair.

My Web is woven; how ye like my task, That is the thing that I shall never ask. If ye applaud, or l••ugh at him that pen'd it, All's one to me, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••isse your Muse and mend it. I play all Parts, and Virgil-like, appear A Shepheard, Plowman, and a Cavalier: Yet labour still in a Laconick stile: As Carr-men drive, and whistle all the while. Thus end my Lines; my Lines did I these call? My Packthread rather that must wind up all.