Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 92
The Rag man he being weary,
With the bundle he did carry,
He swore he would be merry,
and spend a shilling or two.
And he told his Hostis to her face,
The Chimney Corner was his place
And he began (to) drink apace.
_And Jones Ale &c_
The Pedler he grew nigher,
For it was his desire,
To throw the Rags i'th' fire,
and burn the bundle blew.
So whilst they drank whole flashes,
And threw about the Glasses,
The rags were burnt to ashes,
_And Jones Ale &c_
And then came in a Hatter,
To see what was the matter,
He scorned to drink cold water,
amongst that Jovial crew.
And like a man of courage stout,
He took the quart-pot by the snout,
And never left till all was out,
_O Jones Ale &c_
The Taylor being nimble
With Bodkin, Shears, and Thimble,
He did no whit dessemble,
I think his name was _True_
He said that he was like to choak,
And called so fast for lap and smoak,
Until he had pawned his Vinegar Cloake,
_For Jones Ale &c_
Then came a pittiful Porter,
Which often did resort there,
Quoth he i'le shew some sport here,
amongst this jovial crew.
The Porter he had very bad luck,
Before that it was ten o'clock,
The fool got drunk and lost his frock,
_For Jones Ale &c._
The bony brave Shoomaker,
A brave Tobacco taker,
He scorned to be a Quaker
I think his name was _Hugh_.
He called for liquor in so fast,
Till he forgot his Awl and Last,
And up the reckonings he did cast,
_Whilst Jones Ale &c_
And then came in the Weaver,
You never saw a braver,
With a Silk-man, and a Glover,
_Tom Tinker_ for to view
And so to welcome him to Town,
They every man spent half a crown,
And so the drink went merrily down,
_For Jones Ale &c_
Then came a drunken _Dutchman_,
And he would have a touch, man,
But he soon took too much, man,
which made them after rue.
He drank so long as I suppose,
Till greasie drops fell from his nose,
And like a beast befoul'd his hose,
_Whilst Jones Ale &c_
A Welshman he came next, Sir,
With joy and sorrow mixt Sir,
Who being partly vext Sir,
he out his dagger drew.
Cuts-plutter-a-nails, quoth _Taffie_ then,
A Welshman is a Shentleman
Come Hostis fill's the other Can,
_For Jones Ale &c._
Thus like to men of courage stout,
Courageously they drank about,
Till such time all the ale was out,
as I may say to you.
And when the business was done,
They every man departed home,
And promised Jone again to come,
when she had brew'd anew.
FINIS.
Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, J. Clarke, W. Thackeray and
T. Passinger.
[Footnote 235: For tune, see Appendix.]
[Footnote 236: Weald.]
[17.] A Shoomaker thought to mock a Collier being black, saying, What
news from Hell? how fares the Devil? Faith, says the Collier, he
was just riding forth as I came thither, and wanted nothing _but a
Shoomaker to pluck on his boots_.
[123.][Illustration: THE SCOTS HOLDING THEIR YOVNG KINGES NOSE TO Y^E
GRINSTO^{NE}
_Come to the Grinstone Charles tis now to late
To Recolect, tis presbiterian fate
You Couinant pretenders must I bee
The subiect of youer Tradgie Comedie._
Jockie
"Stoope Charles."]
The date of this curious political caricature is 14th July 1651.
It must be remembered that Charles II. was crowned at Scone on 1st
January 1651, and this satire deals with the behaviour of the Scots
towards their young monarch. It is too long to give _in extenso_,
but the following will give a fair idea of its tenor. Above the
illustration are printed these lines:--
_Jockey._ "I. Jockey turne the stone of all your plots,
For none turns faster than the turne-coat Scots
_Presbytor._ We for our ends did make thee King, be sure
Not to rule us, we will not that endure.
_King._ You deep dissemblers, I know what you doe,
And for revenges sake, I will dissemble too."
On either side of the print is a long poem, of which I will only give
the commencement:--
"This Embleme needs no learned Exposition,
The World knows well enough the sad condition
Of Regall Power, and Prerogative
Dead, and dethron'd in _England_, now alive
In _Scotland_, where they seem to love the Lad,
If hee'l be more obsequious than his Dad.
And Act according to Kirk Principles,
More subtile than were Delphick Oracles.
For let him lye, dissemble, kill and slay,
Hee's a good Prince that will the Kirk obey," etc. etc.
[110.] Upon a new yeares day Maister _Hobson_ sitting at dinner in a
Poets Company, or one, as you may tearme him, a writer of histories,
there came a poore man and presented him a cople of orringes, which
hee kindly tooke as a new yeares guift, and gave the poore man for the
same, an angell of goold, and there upon gave it to his wife to lay it
up among his other jewels, considering that it had likewise cost him
an Angel, the which she did. The Poet sitting by, and marking the
bounty of Ma. _Hobson_ for so small a matter, he went home, and
devised a booke contayning forty sheets of paper, which was halfe
a yeare in writing, and came and gave it to Maister _Hobson_ in
dedication, and thought in his mind, that he, in recompencing the
poore man so much for an orringe, would yeeld far more recompence for
his booke, being so long in studying. Maister _Hobson_ tooke the Poets
booke thankfully, and perseving he did it onely for his bounty shewed
for the orringe given him: willed his wife to fetch the said orringe,
which he gave to the Poet, being then almost rotten, saying, here is
a jewel which cost me a thousand times the worth in gould, therefore
I think thou art well satisfied for thy bookes dedication: the poet
seeing this, went his way all a shamed.
[26.] A deaf Man was selling Pears at the Towns end in _S^t Gileses_,
and a Gentleman riding out o' th' Town, askt him what 'twas a Clock?
He said Ten a Penny, Master: Then he askt him agen what 'twas a Clock?
He told 'em indeed he could afford no more. You Rogue, says he, I'll
kick you about the streets. Then says the man, _Sir, if you won't,
another will_.
[4.] A woman coming to a Parson, desir'd him to preach a Funeral
Sermon on her Son that was lately dead; the Parson promised her to do
it; but she desiring to know the Price of his Sermon; he told her it
was Twenty Shillings. Twenty Shillings! says she, An Ass spoke for an
Angel, and won't you speak under Twenty Shillings? The Parson being
a little netled at her, told her she was better fed than taught. Sir,
says she, 'tis very true; for my Husband feeds me, and You teach me.
[93.] _George_ (_Peele_) was at Bristow, and there staying somewhat
longer than his coyne would last him, his Palfrey that should bee his
Carrier to London, his head was growne so big, that he could not
get him out of the stable; it so fortuned at that instant, certaine
Players came to the Towne, and lay at that Inne where _George Peele_
was: to whom _George_ was well knowne, being in that time an excellent
Poet, and had acquaintance of most of the best Players in England;
from the triviall sort hee was but so so; of which these were, only
knew _George_ by name, no otherwise. There was not past three of the
Companie come with the Carriage, the rest were behinde, by reason of
a long Journey they had; so that night they could not enact; which
_George_ hearing, had presently a Stratageme in his head, to get his
Horse free out of the stable, and Money in his Purse to beare his
charges up to London. And thus it was: Hee goes directly to the Maior,
tels him he was a Scholler and a Gentleman, and that he had a certaine
Historie of the Knight of the Rodes; and withall, how Bristow was
first founded, and by whom, and a briefe[F. 237] of all those that
before him had succeeded in Office in that worshipfull Citie: desiring
the Maior, that he, with his presence, and the rest of his Brethren,
would grace his labors. The Maior agreed to it, gave him leave, and
withall appointed him a place: but for himselfe, hee could not be
there, being in the evening: but bade him make the best benefit he
could of the Citie; and very liberally gave him an Angell, which
_George_ thankfully receives, and about his businesse he goes, got
his Stage made, his Historey cryed, and hyred the Players Apparell,
to furnish out his Shew, promising to pay them liberally; and withall
desired them they would favour him so much, as to gather him his money
at the doore; (for hee thought it his best course to imploy them, lest
they should spie out his knaverie; for they have perillous heads.)
They willingly yeeld to doe him any kindnes that lyes in them; in
briefe, carry their apparell in the Hall, place themselves at the
doore, where _George_ in the meane time, with the tenne shillings he
had of the Maior, delivered his Horse out of Purgatorie, and carries
him to the Townes end, and there placeth him, to be ready at his
comming. By this time the Audience were come, and some forty shillings
gathered, which money _George_ put in his purse, and putting on one of
the Players Silke Robes, after the trumpet had sounded thrice, out he
comes, makes low obeysance, goes forward with his Prologue, which was thus:
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