I In Part First
[fol. 2.]
A Puritan
A Puritan of late,
And eke a holy Sister,
A Catechizing sate,
And fain he would have kist her
For his Mate.
But she a Babe of grace,
A Child of reformation,
Thought kissing a disgrace,
A Limbe of prophanation
In that place.
He swore by yea and nay [fol. 2b.]
He would have no denial,
The Spirit would it so,
She should endure a tryal
Ere she go.
Why swear you so, quoth she?
Indeed, my holy Brother,
You might have forsworn be
Had it been to another[,]
Not to me.
He laid her on the ground,
His Spirits fell a ferking,
Her Zeal was in a sound, [i.e. swoon,]
He edified her Merkin
Upside down.
And when their leave they took,
And parted were asunder,
My Muse did then awake,
And I turn’d Ballad-monger
For their sake.
[page 11.]
Loves Dream
I dreamt my Love lay in her bed,
It was my chance to take her,
Her arms and leggs abroad were spread,
She slept, I durst not wake her;
O pitty it were, that one so rare
Should crown her head with willow:
The Tresses of her golden hair
Did crown her lovely Pillow. [al. lect., Did kisse]
Me thought her belly was a hill
Much like a mount of pleasure,
At foot thereof there springs a well,
The depth no man can measure;
About the pleasant Mountain head
There grows a lofty thicket,
Whither two beagles travelled
To rouze a lively Pricket.
They hunted him with chearful cry
About that pleasant Mountain,
Till he with heat was forc’d to fly
And slip into that Fountain;
The Dogs they follow’d to the brink,
And there at him they baited:
They plunged about and would not sink, [p. 12.]
His coming out they waited.
Then forth he came as one half lame,
All very faint and tired,
Betwixt her legs he hung his head,
As heavy heart desired;
My dogs then being refresht again,
And she of sleep bereaved,
She dreamt she had me in her arms,
And she was not deceived.
The Good Old Cause
Now Lambert’s sunk, and valiant M—— [Monk]
Does ape his General Cromwel,
And Arthur’s Court, cause time is short,
Does rage like devils from hell;
Let’s mark the fate and course of State,
Who rises when t’other is sinking,
And believe when this is past
’Twill be our turn at last
To bring the Good Old Cause by drinking.
First, red nos’d Nol he swallowed all,
His colour shew’d he lov’d it:
But Dick his Son, as he were none,
Gav’t off, and hath reprov’d it;
But that his foes made bridge of’s nose,
And cry’d him down for a Protector,
Proving him to be a fool that would undertake to rule
And not drink and fight like Hector.
The Grecian lad he drank like mad, [p. 13.]
Minding no work above it;
And Sans question kill’d Ephestion
Because he’d not approve it;
He got command where God had land,
And like a Maudlin Yonker,
When he tippled all and wept, he laid him down to sleep,
Having no more Worlds to conquer.
Rump-Parliament would needs invent
An Oath of abjuration,
But Obedience and Allegiance are now come into fashion:
Then here’s a boul with heart and soul
To Charles, and let all say Amen to ’t;
Though they brought the Father down
From a triple Kingdom Crown,
We’ll drink the Son up again to ’t.
[p. 14.]
A Song
Riding to London, on Dunstable way
I met with a Maid on Midsummer day,
Her Eyes they did sparkle like Stars in the sky,
Her face it was fair, and her forehead was high:
The more I came to her, the more I did view her,
The better I lik’d her pretty sweet face, [p. 15.]
I could not forbear her, but still I drew near her,
And then I began to tell her my case:
Whither walk’st thou, my pretty sweet soul?
She modestly answer’d to Hockley-i’th’-hole.
I ask’d her her business; she had a red cheek,
She told me, she went a poor service to seek;
I said, it was pitty she should leave the City,
And settle her self in a Country Town;
She said it was certain it was her hard fortune
To go up a maiden, and so to come down.
With that I alighted, and to her I stept,
I took her by th’ hand, and this pretty maid wept;
Sweet[,] weep not, quoth I: I kist her soft lip;
I wrung her by th’ hand, and my finger she nipt;
So long there I woo’d her, such reasons I shew’d her,
That she my speeches could not controul,
But cursied finely, and got up behind me,
And back she rode with me to Hockley-i’-th’-hole.
When I came to Hockley at the sign of the Cock,
By [a]lighting I chanced to see her white smock,
It lay so alluring upon her round knee,
I call’d for a Chamber immediately;
I hugg’d her, I tugg’d her, I kist her, I smugg’d her,
And gently I laid her down on a bed,
With nodding and pinking, with sighing & winking,
She told me a tale of her Maidenhead.
While she to me this story did tell,
I could not forbear, but on her I fell;
I tasted the pleasure of sweetest delight, [p. 16.]
We took up our lodging, and lay there all night;
With soft arms she roul’d me, and oft times told me,
She loved me deerly, even as her own soul:
But on the next morrow we parted with sorrow,
And so I lay with her at Hockley-i’th’-hole.
[p. 27.]
Maidens Delight
A Young man of late, that lackt a mate,
And courting came unto her,
With Cap, and Kiss, and sweet Mistris,
But little could he do her;
Quoth she, my friend, let kissing end,
Where with you do me smother,
And run at Ring with t’other thing:
A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other.
Too much of ought is good for nought,
Then leave this idle kissing;
Your barren suit will yield no fruit
If the other thing be missing:
As much as this a man may kiss
His sister or his mother;
He that will speed must give with need
A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other.
Who bids a Guest unto a feast,
To sit by divers dishes,
They please their mind untill they find
Change, please each Creatures wishes;
With beak and bill I have my fill,
With measure running over;
The Lovers dish now do I wish,
A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other.
To gull me thus, like Tantalus,
To make me pine with plenty,
With shadows store, and nothing more, [p. 28.]
Your substance is so dainty;
A fruitless tree is like to thee,
Being but a kissing lover,
With leaves joyn fruit, or else be mute;
A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other.
Sharp joyn’d with flat, no mirth to that;
A low note and a higher,
Where Mean and Base keeps time and place,
Such musick maids desire:
All of one string doth loathing bring,
Change, is true Musicks Mother,
Then leave my face, and sound the base,
A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other.
The golden mine lies just between [? golden mean]
The high way and the lower;
He that wants wit that way to hit
Alas[!] hath little power;
You’l miss the clout if that you shoot
Much higher, or much lower:
Shoot just between, your arrows keen,
A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other.
No smoake desire without a fire,
No wax without a Writing:
If right you deal give Deeds to Seal,
And straight fall to inditing;
Thus do I take these lines I make,
As to a faithful Lover,
In order he’ll first write, then seal,
A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other.
Thus while she staid the young man plaid [p. 29.]
Not high, but low defending; [? descending;]
Each stroak he strook so well she took,
She swore it was past mending;
Let swaggering boys that think by toyes
Their Lovers to fetch over,
Lip-labour save, for the maids must have
A little o’ th’ t’on with t’other.
[p. 32.]
A Song
A Young man walking all alone
Abroad to take the air,
It was his chance to meet a maid
Of beauty passing fair:
Desiring her of curtesie
Down by him for to sit;
She answered him most modestly,
O nay, O nay not yet.
Forty Crowns I will give thee,
Sweet heart, in good red Gold,
If that thy favour I may win
With thee for to be bold:
She answered him with modesty,
And with a fervent wit,
Think’st thou I’ll stain my honesty?
O nay, O nay not yet.
Gold and silver is but dross, [p. 33.]
And worldly vanity;
There’s nothing I esteem so much
As my Virginity;
What do you think I am so loose, [al. lect., mad]
And of so little wit,
As for to lose my maidenhead?
O nay, O nay not yet.
Although our Sex be counted base,
And easie to be won,
You see that I can find a check
Dame Natures Games to shun;
Except it be in modesty,
That may become me fit,
Think’st I am weary of my honesty?
O nay, O nay not yet.
The young man stood in such a dump,
Not giving no more words,
He gave her that in quietness
Which love to maids affords:
The maid was ta’n as in a trance,
And such a sudden fit,
As she had almost quite forgot
Her nay, O nay not yet.
The way to win a womans love
Is only to be brief,
And give her that in quietness
Will ease her of her grief:
For kindness they will not refuse
When young men proffer it,
Although their common speeches be
O nay, O nay not yet.
[p. 56.]
Admiral Deans Funeral
1.
Nick Culpepper, and William Lilly,
Though you were pleas’d to say they were silly,
Yet something these prophesi’d true, I tell you, [? ye,]
Which no body can deny.
2.
In the month of May, I tell you truly,
Which neither was in June nor July,
The Dutch began to be unruly,
Which no body can deny.
3.
Betwixt our England and their Holland,
Which neither was in France nor Poland,
But on the Sea, where there was no Land,
Which no body can deny.
4.
They joyn’d the Dutch, and the English Fleet,
[In] Our Authors opinion then they did meet,
Some saw’t that never more shall see’t,
Which no body can deny.
5.
There were many mens hearts as heavy as lead, [p. 57.]
Yet would not believe Dick Dean to be dead,
Till they saw his Body take leave of his head,
Which no body can deny.
6.
Then after the sad departure of him,
There was many a man lost a Leg or a Lim,
And many were drown’d ’cause they could not swim,
Which no body can deny.
7.
One cries, lend me thy hand[,] good friend,
Although he knew it was to no end,
I think, quoth he, I am going to the Fiend,
Which no body can deny.
8.
Some, ’twas reported, were kill’d with a Gun,
And some stood that knew not whether to run,
There was old taking leave of Father and Son,
Which no body can deny.
9.
There’s a rumour also, if we may believe,
We have many gay Widdows now given to grieve,
’Cause unmannerly Husbands ne’er came to take leave,
Which no body can deny.
10.
The Ditty is sad of our Deane to sing;
To say truth, it was a pittiful thing
To take off his head and not leave him a ring,
Which no body can deny.
11.
From Greenwich toward the Bear at Bridge foot
He was wafted with wind that had water to’t,
But I think they brought the devil to boot,
Which no body can deny.
12.
The heads on London Bridge upon Poles, [p. 58.]
That once had bodies, and honester soules
Than hath the Master of the Roules,
Which no body can deny,
13.
They grieved for this great man of command,
Yet would not his head amongst theirs should stand;
He dy’d on the Water, and they on the Land,
Which no body can deny.
14.
I cannot say, they look’d wisely upon him,
Because people cursed that parcel was on him;
He has fed fish and worms, if they do not wrong him,
Which no body can deny.
15.
The Old Swan, as he passed by,
Said, she would sing him a dirge, and lye down & die:
Wilt thou sing to a bit of a body, quoth I?
Which no body can deny.
16.
The Globe on the bank, I mean, on the Ferry,
Where Gentle and simple might come & be merry,
Admired at the change from a Ship to a Wherry,
Which no body can deny.
17.
Tom Godfreys Bears began for to roare,
Hearing such moans one side of the shore,
They knew they should never see Dean any more,
Which no body can deny.
18.
Queenhithe, Pauls-Wharf, and the Fryers also,
Where now the Players have little to do,
Let him pass without any tokens of woe,
Which no body can deny.
19. [p. 59.]
Quoth th’ Students o’th’ Temple, I know not their names,
Looking out of their Chambers into the Thames,
The Barge fits him better than did the great James,
Which no body can deny.
20.
Essex House, late called Cuckold’s Hall,
The Folk in the Garden staring over the wall,
Said, they knew that once Pride would have a fall,
Which no body can deny.
21.
At Strand Gate, a little farther then,
Were mighty Guns numbred to sixty and ten,
Which neither hurt Children, Women, nor Men,
Which no body can deny.
22.
They were shot over times one, two, three, or four,
’Tis thought one might ’heard th’ bounce to th’ Tower,
Folk report, the din made the Buttermilk sower,
Which no body can deny.
23.
Had old Goodman Lenthal or Allen but heard ’um,
The noise worse than Olivers voice would ’fear’d ’um,
And out of their small wits would have scar’d ’um.
Which no body can deny.
24.
Sommerset House, where once did the Queen lye,
And afterwards Ireton in black, and not green, by,
The Canon clattered the Windows really,
Which no body can deny.
25.
The Savoys mortified spittled Crew,
If I lye, as Falstaffe saies, I am a Jew,
Gave the Hearse such a look it would make a man spew,
Which no body can deny.
26.
The House of S—— that Fool and Knave, [p. 60.]
Had so much wit left lamentation to save
From accompanying a traytorly Rogue to his grave,
Which no body can deny.
27.
The Exchange, and the ruines of Durham House eke,
Wish’d such sights might be seen each day i’ th’ week,
A Generals Carkass without a Cheek,
Which no body can deny.
28.
The House that lately Great Buckinghams was,
Which now Sir Thomas Fairfax has,
Wish’d it might be Sir Thomas’s fate so to pass,
Which no body can deny.
29.
Howards House, Suffolks great Duke of Yore,
Sent him one single sad wish, and no more,
He might flote by Whitehall in purple gore,
Which no body can deny.
30.
Something I should of Whitehall say,
But the Story is so sad, and so bad, by my fay,
That it turns my wits another way,
Which no body can deny.
31.
To Westminster, to the Bridge of the Kings,
The water the Barge, and the Barge-men[,] brings
The small remain of the worst of things,
Which no body can deny.
32.
They interr’d him in triumph, like Lewis the eleven,
In the famous Chappel of Henry the seven,
But his soul is scarce gone the right way to heaven,
Which no body can deny.
[p. 64.]
A Merrie Journey to France
I went from England into France,
Not for to learn to sing nor dance,
To ride, nor yet to fence,
But for to see strange sights, as those
That have return’d without a nose
They carried away from hence.
As I to Paris rode along,
Like to John Dory in the Song,
Upon a holy Tyde,
Where I an ambling Nag did get,
I hope he is not paid for yet,
I spurr’d him on each side.
First, to Saint Dennis then I came,
To see the sights at Nostredame,
The man that shews them snaffles:
That who so list, may there believe
To see the Virgin Maries Sleeve,
And eke her odd Pantafles. [? old]
The breast-milk, and the very Gown
That she did wear in Bethlehem Town,
When in the Barn she lay:
But men may think that is a Fable, [p. 65.]
For such good cloaths ne’er came in Stable
Upon a lock of hay.
No Carpenter can by his trade
Have so much Coin as to have made
A gown of such rich Stuff:
But the poor fools must, for their credit,
Believe, and swear old Joseph did it,
’Cause he received enough. [al. lect., deserv’d]
There is the Lanthorn which the Jews,
When Judas led them forth, did use,
It weighs my weight down-right;
And then you must suppose and think
The Jews therein did put a Link,
And then ’t was wondrous bright. [? light]
There is one Saint has lost his nose,
Another his head, but not his toes,
An elbow, and a thumb;
When we had seen those holy rags,
We went to the Inne and took our Nags,
And so away we come.
We came to Paris, on the Seine,
’Tis wondrous fair, but little clean,
’Tis Europes greatest Town:
How strong it is I need not tell it,
For every one may easily smell it
As they ride up and down.
There’s many rare sights for to see,
The Palace, the great Gallery,
Place-Royal doth excell;
The Newbridge, and the Statute stairs, [p. 66.]
At Rotterdam, Saint Christophers, [? Nostre Dame]
The Steeple bears the Bell.
For Arts, the University,
And for old Cloaths, the Frippery,
The Queen the same did build;
Saint Innocent[s’], whose earth devours
Dead Corps in four and twenty hours,
And there the King was kill’d.
The Bastile, and Saint Dennis street,
The Chastelet, like London Fleet;
The Arsenal is no toy;
But if you will see the pretty thing,
Oh go to Court and see the King,
Oh he is a hopeful boy.
He is of all [his] Dukes and Peers
Reverenc’d for wit as well as years;
Nor must you think it much
That he with little switches play,
And can make fine dirt-pies of Clay,
O never King made such.
Birds round about his Chamber stands,
The which he feeds with his own hands,
’Tis his humility:
And if they want [for] any thing,
They may but whistle to their King
And he comes presently.
A bird that can but catch a Fly,
Or prate to please his Majesty, [al. lect., doth please]
It’s known to every one;
The Duke De Guise gave him a Parrot, [p. 67.]
And he had twenty Cannons for it
For his great Gallion.
O that it e’er might be my hap
To catch the bird that in the Map
They call the Indian Chuck,
I’d give it him, and hope to be
As great and wise a man as he,
Or else I had ill luck.
Besides, he hath a pretty firk,
Taught him by Nature, for to work
In Iron with much ease:
And then unto the Forge he goes,
There he knocks, and there he blows,
And makes both locks and Keys.
Which puts a doubt in every one
Whether he be Mars or Vulcans Son,
For few believe his Mother:
For his Incestuous House could not
Have any Children, unless got
By Uncle, or by Brother.
Now for these virtues needs he must
Intituled be Lewis the Just,
Heneries Great Heir;
Where to his Stile we add more words,
Better to call him King of Birds
Than of the Great Navar.
His Queen, she is a little Wench,
Was born in Spain, speaks little French,
Ne’er like to be a Mother:
But let them all say what they will, [p. 68.]
I do beleeve, and shall do still,
As soon the one as t’other.
Then why should Lewis be so just,
Contented be to take his lust [? he]
With his lascivious Mate,
Or suffer this his little Queen,
From all her Sex that e’er had been,
Thus to degenerate?
’Twere charity to have it known,
Love other Children as his own
To him it were no shame:
For why should he near greater be
Than was his Father Henery,
Who, some say, did the same?
[p. 85.]
Englands Woe
I mean to speak of Englands sad fate,
To help in mean time the King, and his Mate,
That’s ruled by an Antipodian State,
Which no body can deny.
But had these seditious times been when
We had the life of wise Poet Ben,
Parsons had never been Parliament men,
Which no body can deny.
Had Statesmen read the Bible throughout,
And not gone by the Bible so round about,
They would have ruled themselves without doubt,
Which no body can deny.
But Puritans now bear all the sway,
They’ll have no Bishops as most men say,
But God send them better another day,
Which no body can deny.
Zealous Pryn has threatned a great downfall,
To cut off long locks that is bushy and small,
But I hope he will not take ears and all,
Which no body can deny.
Prin, [and] Burton, saies women that’s leud and loose,
Shall wear no stallion locks for a bush, [Italian... abuse]
They’ll only have private boyes for their use, [al. lect., Keyes]
Which no body can deny.
They’ll not allow what pride it brings, [p. 86.]
Nor favours in hats, nor no such things,
They’l convert all ribbands to Bible strings,
Which no body can deny.
God bless our King and Parliament,
And send he may make such K—— repent [Knaves]
That breed our Land such discontent,
Which no body can deny.
And bless our Queen and Prince also,
And all true Subjects both high and low,
The brownings can pray for themselves you know,
Which no body can deny.
[p. 88.]
Ladies Delight
Hang Chastity[!] it is for the milking pail,
Ladies ought to be more valiant:
Not to be confin’d in body and mind
Is the temper of a right she Gallant;
Hither all you Amazons that are true
To this famous Dildoe profession,
She is no bonny Lass that fears to transgress
The Act against Fornication.
The Country Dame, that loves the old sport,
Or delights in a new invention,
May be fitted here, if they please to repair
To this high ranting Convention;
If you are weary of your Coyn,
Or of your Chastity,
Here is costly toyes, or hot-metled boyes,
That will ease you presently.
Both curious heads and wanton tailes
May here have satisfaction;
Here is all kind of ware, that useful are
For pride or provocation;
Here’s Drugs to paint, or Powder to perfume,
Or Ribbon of the best fashion;
Here’s dainty meat will fit you for the feat
Beyond all expectation.
Here’s curious patches to set out your faces, [p. 89.]
And make you resemble the sky;
Or here’s looking-glasses to shew the poor Asses,
Your Husbands, their destiny;
Here’s bawbles too to play withall,
And some to stand in stead;
This place doth afford both for your brow,
And stallions for your head.
Old Ladies here may be reliev’d,
If Ushers they do lack,
Or if they’ll not discharge their husbands at large,
But grow foundred in the back;
Green visag’d Damsels, that are sick
Of a troubled Maidenhead,
May here, if they please, be cur’d of the disease
And their green colours turn’d to red.
[p. 95.]
The Tyrannical Wife
It was a man, and a jolly old man,
Come love me whereas I lay,
And he would marry a fair young wife
The clean contrary way.
He woo’d her for to wed, to wed,
Come love me whereas I lay,
And even she kickt him out of the bed
The clean contrary way.
Then for her dinner she looked due,
Come love me whereas I lay,
Or else would make her husband rue
The clean contrary way.
She made him wash both dish and spoon,
Come love me whereas I lay,
He had better a gone on his head to Rome
The clean contrary way.
She proved a gallant huswife soon,
Come love me whereas I lay,
She was every morning up by noon
The clean contrary way,
She made him go to wash and wring, [p. 96.]
Come love me whereas I lay,
And every day to dance and sing
The clean contrary way.
She made him do a worse thing than this,
Come love me whereas I lay,
To father a child was none of his,
The clean contrary way.
Hard by a bush, and under a brier,
Come love me whereas I lay,
I saw a holy Nun lye under a Frier
The clean contrary way.
To end my Song I think it long,
Come love me whereas I lay,
Come give me some drink and I’ll be gone
The clean contrary way.
[p. 134.]
The Tinker
[Some of these verses are evidently misplaced: We keep them unchanged, but add side-notes to rectify.]
There was a Lady in this Land
That lov’d a Gentleman,
And could not have him secretly,
As she would now and then,
Till she devis’d to dress him like
A Tinker in Vocation:
And thus, disguis’d, she bid him say,
He came to clout her Cauldron.
His face full fair she smother’s black [2.]
That he might not be known,
A leather Jerkin on his back, [p. 135.]
His breeches rent and torn;
With speed he passed to the place,
To knock he did not spare:
Who’s that, quoth the lady[’s Porter] then,
That raps so rashly there.
I am a Tinker, then quoth he, [3.]
That worketh for my Fee,
If you have Vessels for to mend,
Then bring them unto me:
For I have brass within my bag,
And target in my Apron,
And with my skill I can well clout,
And mend a broken Cauldron.
Quoth she, our Cauldron hath most need, [? verse 7.]
At it we will begin,
For it will hold you half an hour
To trim it out and in:
But first give me a glass of drink,
The best that we do use,
For why[,] it is a Tinkers guise
No good drink to refuse.
Then to the Brew-house hyed they fast, [? verse 8.]
This broken piece to mend,
He said he would no company,
His Craft should not be kend,
But only to your self, he said,
That must pay me my Fee:
I am no common Tinker,
But work most curiously.
And I also have made a Vow, [? verse 9. p. 136.]
I’ll keep it if I may,
There shall no mankind see my work,
That I may stop or stay:
Then barred he the Brew-house door,
The place was very dark,
He cast his Budget from his back,
And frankly fell to work.
And whilst he play’d and made her sport, [? verse 10.]
Their craft the more to hide,
She with his hammer stroke full hard
Against the Cauldron side:
Which made them all to think, and say,
The Tinker wrought apace,
And so be sure he did indeed,
But in another place.
The Porter went into the house, [? verse 4.]
Where Servants us’d to dine,
Telling his Lady, at the Gate
There staid a Tinker fine:
Quoth he, much Brass he wears about,
And Target in his Apron,
Saying, that he hath perfect skill
To mend your broken Cauldron.
Quoth she, of him we have great need, [? verse 5.]
Go Porter, let him in,
If he be cunning in his Craft
He shall much money win:
But wisely wist she who he was,
Though nothing she did say,
For in that sort she pointed him
To come that very day.
When he before the Lady came, [? verse 6. p. 137.]
Disguised stood he there,
He blinked blithly, and did say,
God save you Mistris fair;
Thou’rt welcome, Tinker, unto me,
Thou seem’st a man of skill,
All broken Vessels for to mend,
Though they be ne’er so ill;
I am the best man of my Trade,
Quoth he, in all this Town,
For any Kettle, Pot, or Pan,
Or clouting of a Cauldron.
Quoth he, fair Lady, unto her, [verse 11.]
My business I have ended,
Go quickly now, and tell your Lord
The Cauldron I have mended:
As for the Price, that I refer
Whatsoever he do say,
Then come again with diligence,
I would I were away.
The Lady went unto her Lord, [12.]
Where he walkt up and down,
Sir, I have with the Tinker been,
The best in all the Town:
His work he doth exceeding well,
Though he be wondrous dear,
He asks no less than half a Mark
For that he hath done here.
Quoth he, that Target is full dear, [13.]
I swear by Gods good Mother:
Quoth she, my Lord, I dare protest,
’Tis worth five hundred other;
He strook it in the special place, [p. 138.]
Where greatest need was found,
Spending his brass and target both,
To make it safe and sound.
Before all Tinkers in the Land,
That travels up and down,
Ere they should earn a Groat of mine,
This man should earn a Crown:
Or were you of his Craft so good,
And none but I it kend,
Then would it save me many a Mark,
Which I am fain to spend.
The Lady to her Coffer went,
And took a hundred Mark,
And gave the Tinker for his pains,
That did so well his work;
Tinker, said she, take here thy fee,
Sith here you’ll not remain,
But I must have my Cauldron now
Once scoured o’er again.
Then to the former work they went,
No man could them deny;
The Lady said, good Tinker call
The next time thou com’st by:
For why[,] thou dost thy work so well,
And with so good invention,
If still thou hold thy hand alike,
Take here a yearly Pension.
And ev’ry quarter of the year
Our Cauldron thou shalt view;
Nay, by my faith, her Lord gan say, [p. 139.]
I’d rather buy a new;
Then did the Tinker take his leave
Both of the Lord and Lady,
And said, such work as I can do,
To you I will be ready.
From all such Tinkers of the trade
God keep my Wife, I pray,
That comes to clout her Cauldron so,
I’ll swinge him if I may.
[A song follows, beginning “There were three birds that built very low.” With other four, commencing respectively on pp. 146, 153, 161, and 168, it is degraded from position here; for substantial reasons; and (with a few others, afterwards to be specified,) given separately. Nothing but the absolute necessity of making this a genuine Antiquarian Reprint, worthy of the confidence of all mature students of our Early Literature, compels the Editor to admit such prurient and imbecile pieces at all. They are tokens of a debased taste that would be inconceivable, did we not remember that, not more than twenty years ago, crowds of MP.s, Lawyers, and Baronets listened with applause, and encored tumultuously, songs far more objectionable than these (if possible) in London Music Halls, and Supper Rooms. Those who recollect what R...s sang (such as “The Lock of Hair,” “My name it is Sam Hall, Chimbley Sweep,” &c.), and what “Judge N——” said at his Jury Court, need not be astonished at anything which was sung or written in the days of the Commonwealth and at the Restoration. A few words we suppress into dots in Supplement, &c.]
[p. 148.]
The Maid a Bathing
Upon a Summers day,
’Bout middle of the morn,
I spy’d a Lass that lay
Stark nak’d as she was born;
’Twas by a running Pool,
Within a meddow green,
And there she lay to cool,
Not thinking to be seen.
Then did she by degrees
Wash every part in rank,
Her Arms, her breasts, her thighs,
Her Belly, and her Flank;
Her legs she opened wide,
My eyes I let down steal,
Untill that I espy’d
Dame natures privy Seal.
I stript me to the skin,
And boldly stept unto her,
Thinking her love to win,
I thus began to wooe her:
Sweet heart be not so coy,
Time’s sweet in pleasure spent,
She frown’d, and cry’d, away,
Yet, smiling, gave consent.
Then blushing, down she slid, [p. 149.]
Seeming to be amazed,
But heaving up her head,
Again she on me gazed;
I seeing that, lay down,
And boldly ’gan to kiss,
And she did smile, and frown,
And so fell to our bliss.
Then lay she on the ground
As though she had been sped,
As women in a swoon,
Yield up, and yet not dead:
So did this lively maid,
When hot bloud fill’d her vein,
And coming to her self she said,
I thank you for your pain.
[Part First, 1661, ends on pages 171-175, with The new Medley of the Country man, Citizen, and Souldier (which in the 1670 and 1691 editions are on pp. 182-187). The 1661 edition of Second Part has a complete title-page of its own, in black and red, exactly agreeing with its own First Part, except that the words are prefixed “The || Second Part || of.” A contemporary MS. note in Ant. à Wood’s copy, says, of each part, “1s. 3d.” as the original price. There is also, in the 1661 edition (and in that only), another address, here, which runs as follows:—
“To the Reader:
“Courteous Reader,
“We do here present thee with the Second part of Merry Drollery, not doubting but it will find good Reception with the more Ingenious; The deficiency of this shall be supplied in a third, when time shall serve: In the mean time
Farewel.”
The Third Part, mentioned above, never appeared.
The woodcut Initial W represents Salome, the daughter of Herodias, receiving from the Roman-like Stratiotes the head of John the Baptist (whose body lies at their feet), she holding her charger. The Editor hopes to engrave it for the Introduction to this present volume.
The pagination commences afresh in the 1661 Second Part; but continues in the 1670, and the 1691 editions.]