The Welsh hubub,: or the Unkennelling and earthing of Hugh Peters that crafty fox.

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Title
The Welsh hubub,: or the Unkennelling and earthing of Hugh Peters that crafty fox.
Publication
London :: Printed by P. Lillicrap,
1660.
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Subject terms
Satire, English
Peters, Hugh, -- 1598-1660
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A96189.0001.001
Cite this Item
"The Welsh hubub,: or the Unkennelling and earthing of Hugh Peters that crafty fox." In the digital collection Early English Books Online 2. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A96189.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 2, 2024.

Pages

Page [unnumbered]

THE WELSH HUBUB, Or the Unkennelling and Earthing of HUGH PETERS That Crafty Fox.

HEr will speak truth, her scorns to tell you tales, Was gallant things, cal'd prophesies in ƲƲales Truer then Mandivill, which do assure us Arthurus quandom Rex, & Rex futurus: Law there; nay more, our Merlin farther goes Descending to our times, and points at those, Who shall disturb our peace, and raise strange wars Amongst our selves, with horrid civil Jars, Murder with rapine, and saith that Sais Kee Shall plundra Kefill glace, and Kefill Dee, From honest Taffy; that the Mole or want Shall undermine us, and our Rights supplant: This Mole Expositors with one consent Do call the long-taild ramping-Parliament: That this is come to pass none can deny Though Cutterell mawr, himself were standing by; An other in his learned rimes doth say, The Lions whelp is forc't to fly away, And that the 7th of Ireland he shall be Again restored unto his Royalty, Hall, Ned, Mall, Bess, James, and two Charles, I wiss Make just up seaven; our Merlin doth not misse And that in express termes a Monk shall bring And reinvest great Charles our sacred King: And look you here now, is not this all true Her will speak one word more and so adieu When all this is full-fiild, then draweth on The time we call naw mish Capisteron; And whats that Hugh? I'le tell the tis a time When such as thou shall up a ladder clime, Not unto Peter, Porter at heaven gate, But there to fetch a swing or two, thy fate Will have it so, and if it be thy chance Amongst the traitors for to lead the daunce, Thou shalt not turn alone, there will be more To follow the upon the self same score, To traverse ground, to change to turn and fling and cut strong Capers in a hempen string; I need not name them, Hugh, thou knowst u'm well, They'l make a lusty Cushing dance to hell: But yet me thinks, it is not very fit That men alone without some femal chit Should make a Ball, send for thy deer Nan Hedge, For whom in former time thou wast a pledge; Though Mrss the Goaler brought her back again To wood-street Counter, and there lod'g the If one will not suffice, then send for more The world well knowes Hugh Peters loves a— And though, his calling of the soul takes care, Yet honest Hugh will give the flesh a share, And teach his Auditors, how they may see, And finde out Puss sitting in Majesty: The surpless he abhors yet loves the smock, And when he fails of that heel use the frock, And so disgui'ed he thought the world to mock When Martyred Charles his head lay on the block: If by these signes you cannot finde him out Instead of Hu-bub I have sent a scout, Who now return'd, this narrative declares, The subtle Fox some times is catcht with snares, On friday twas, which some call venus day Because that Planet then doth bear the sway And is predominant, and hath a slight A pretty one whither't be day or night To couple loving things: the sent growes hot, And though our Hugo cunningly had got Him selfe into a Quakers house cald Broad The fitest hoste to harbour such a—: Murder will not lye hide, his haunt is found, And steps are tract, without the help of hound; Hugh hunts not counter yet the wily whelp Findes out a cunning shift himselfe to help; To bed he goes, where Mrs Peach lay in The woman being green I hope no sin Was there commited, (weighty things in hand Men upon coulors do not often stand) The proverb saith, here lurking he lay still As safe as any theise lyes in a Mill Oft in the pulpet he was wont to say He envied much those little doges which lay In Ladies beds places far more fit For men of lusty courage and choice wit, He hath his wish; the officers forbear In modesty the child bed to draw near, And fall to search all the Roomes and places, As tis the common use in such like cases, The next house was John Dayes an upright Quaker Because a Cobler, and a great pertaker With Hugh's desines: whilst each one beats his brains To finde the fugitives, and spairs no pains Scowring each corner with a Zealous eye Werei't but as big where in a mouse might lye: Hugh takes his time, and whilst theyr all at gaze, Makes an escape and hyes unto the Maze; His rapiere with his bible, and his coat He leaves behinde, by which the searchers note Hugh cannot be far of, to Horse way down Where one Nathaniell Mun, a man well known— Had his aboad, a tape-maker by trade, Though it were fitter far he halters made, Peters conveyes himselfe; with open Cry The chase is followed, Law-now by and by They finde the horse, Mun's wife shee keeps the dore They thrust, shee holds; I cannot tell you more, But some do say shee had adown-right fall, Yet I'le not say shee play'd at up tailes all, Up staires with full careirs the serjant goes But at the dore he finds one to oppose, And stoutly too, by which he aimes and right Twas Hugh himselfe, with all his main and might, That strenth is reenforc't with new supplies For, Mr Arnold, Hobkins, Harris flyes Unto the battry, who with doubled force Compell proud Peter to retreat: Remorce Now seazeth on him, and he faints for fear All symptoms of a Quaker now appear, With Impudence and brasen face he cryes I am not Peters, who so calls me lies My name is Thomson; if that it be so Then Duplex nomen Duplex Nebulo: My action's good it'h law against you all Who thus abuse and wrongfully miscall An honest man, t'oth damage of his purss And infamy of him; which is far worss. With this arrives young Peach (whose wife lay in Within which bed Hugh-Peters with out sin Had hid himselfe) and being askt if he Such Gloves, or Cane, as those did ever see, I did quoth he, and testifie I can, They do belong unto that Gentelman, Pointing to Hugo: Hugo in a fume Denies it stoutly; but yet doth assume The pair of gloves, which on his hands he drawes, Those bloody hands worser then Tigers pawes, I'le not deny but these are mine quoth he Lyers ought t'have a present memorie, Which Hugo faild of: Hugo must away, The case is clear, he may not longer stay, Then take him, Derick, Gentelmen I pray Call me not Peters, least upon the way The incenst many hearing of my name Like Doctor Lamb should stone me for the same This granted Hugo, once again doth crave That he some privat conference, may have VVith Mirs. Mun, women are best pleas'd when They meet in private with strong dockt able men; But that deni'd, the stallion being dry After the sports and heats of venery, He calls for drink his spirits to revive, It seemes theyr thirsty who do often— Two quarts of rot-gut beer he swalowes up Desiring neither goblet horne or cup, Though I suppose hornes he might have had Haveing himselfe, made many run horne mad. Now to the Tower must poor Peters trudge, Patience good Hugo tis in vain to grudge Before the grave Lieutenent he is brought VVhat change is this? would ever man have thought, Cromwells Confessor should be forc't t'appeare, Before a Royalist or Chavilier As a Delinquent; yet tis true, tis done Hee's under loyall Sir John Robinson VVhere we will leave him to repent, if he Be not too over grown in vilanie, Once her remembers he did make a preach, And in her sermon did false doctrine teach Saying, the VVelch were only good to be Made hanging Clappers for a wooden tree: But yet her cozen lives, and may in time Behold Hugh Peters mounting up, and clime The tritle tree, which stands by Hide parke pale, For if her judgment do not highly fail He hath deserv'd it: thus the Fox you see Is eartht; if you do ask how this can be, Go to the Tower and you shall finde it true Or else beleive me not, and when old Hugh From this frail world shall take his last farwel, I'le be his frend and ring his passing bell, With out a clapper not with out a roape For that will be his end as most do hope
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