Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 50
Likewise there was a Carman too
and he found Butter for it,
But when the Knavery Neighbours knew
they could not but abhor it;
And then there was a Cooke, Sir,
at _More gate_ doth he dwell,
And he then under tooke, Sir,
to make the Pasty well.
Some say it eate as mellow then
as any little chick,
But I tell thee, good-fellow; then
it made the Neighbours sick:
The Tapster had his humour,
but the Neighbours had the worst,
Yet I doe hear they had good Beere
and dainty Pastry crust.
Then every joviall Blade, Sir,
that lived in that place,
Their Money freely paid, Sir,
they scorned to be bace:
They cal'd for Beere, likewise for Ale
because the Coult should swim,
And of the Cup they would not faile,
but fil'd it to the brim.
The Car-mans Wife cry'd out and said
troath 'tis good Meat indeed,
So likewise said the Chamber-maid,
when she on it did feed.
The Tapster bid them welcome then,
and Wea-Hae did he cry
You are all welcome, Gentlemen,
you'r welcome hartily.
The Glover's Wife was in a heat,
and did both pout and mump,
Because they would not let her eat
the Buttock and the Rump.
As for the merry Weaver's Wife,
I will give her her due,
She spent her Coyne to end the strife
among that joviall Crew.
This Colt was not so wholsome though
as was a good fat Hogg,
Yet one came in and told the crew
it was a mangie Dogg!
But he that told them was to blame,
and was but a silly Dolt,
The Tapster bid him peace for Shame
for 'twas a good fat Colt.
The Colt he cost me eighteen pence,
the Tapster he did say,
I hope good Folks 'ere you goe hence,
you for your Meate will pay.
Pox take you for a Rogue quoth one,
another, he fel'd oaks,
Another said he was undone!
'twas worse than Harty Choaks.
The Porter he did give nine pence
to have it in a Pye,
The People ere they went from thence
did feed most hartily:
It was the joviall Baker,
and knavish Tapster too,
The Car-man was pertaker
was not this a Joviall crew.
The Potecary he was there,
_Farr_ and the Sexton too,
The Tapster put them in great fear,
he made them for to spue.
Now was not this a knave ingrain,
to use his Neighbours so,
When knaves are scarce, hee'l go for twain,
good People, what think you.
The Tapster he came in at last,
and gave the People vomits,
I hope, (quoth he,) the worst is past,
I have eased your foule Stomacks;
Wea-hea cry'd the Tapster then,
how doe you like my sport,
The Women said, so did the Men,
the Devill take you for't.
At _Brainford_ as I heard some say
a mangie Dog was eate:
This was not halfe so bad as that,
and yet the fault was great:
Men of good fashon then was there
that went both fine and brave
Now all do say, that this doth heare,
the Tapster is a knave.
FINIS.
_London_, Printed for _William Gammon_, and to be sould in
_Smithfield_.
[61.] There fell a great dispute betwixt _Jockey_ a _Scotchman_,
and _Jenkin_ a _Welch man_, and the subject of it was about the
fruitfullnesse of their Countries, and thus _Jockey_ began. There
was not a braver, fruitfuller Country in the world than _Leith_ in
_Scotland_: The _Welch man_ answered him again, Picot, that was false,
for there was no place so full of all sorts of fruite, as was in
Wales. _Jockey_ replyed again, that he knew a piece of ground in
_Scotland_ where the grass grew up so suddenly that if you throw a
Staff in it over night, in that time the pasture would so over grow
it, that you could not see it again the next morning. But _Jenkin_
hearing this, with a great Scorne made him this answer, Py _Saint
Taffe_ that the throwing so small a thing as a Staff was nothing, for
(quoth _Shinkin_) we have divers pieces of Cround in our Contry, that
if you turn your Horse into them, you shall not see him next Morning.
Why do Men not agree [12.]
With their Wives now we see
Men now are more Learn'd, and do brawl;
Tis false Concord we see
For the Masculine to agree
With the Feminine Gender at all.
[26.] Says a Fellow that had lost one of his Ears at _Newcastle_, for
no goodness 'tis thought; when one told him a Story, 'Tis in at one
ear and out at t'other. By my truth, says the other, then there's a
great deal of wonder in the travel of these Tales, for thy two Ears be
two hundred Miles asunder.
[52.] A Certaine Gentleman in Lincolneshire, being also a Justice of
Peace, had an old servant many yeares called _Adam Milford_, who upon
a time came unto his Master, and desired him, in regard that he had
been his servant so many yeares, hee would now give him somthing to
help him in his old age. Thou sayest true, quoth his Master, and I
will tell thee what I will doe. Now shortly am I to ride up to London;
if thou wilt pay my costs & charges by the way, I will give thee, ere
long, such a thing as shall be worth to thee an hundred pounds. I am
content, quoth _Adam_, and so payed for all their reckoning by the
way. Being come to London, hee put his Master in mind of his former
promise that he had made to him. What did I promise thee anything?
Yes, quoth _Adam_, that you did; for you said you would give me
that which should be worth to me an hundred pounds, for bearing your
Charges to London. Let me see your writing, quoth his Master. I have
none, quoth _Adam_. Then thou art like to have nothing, quoth his
Master; And learne this of me, that when thou makest a bargain with
any man, looke thou take a Writing, and beware how thou makest a
Writing to any man. This hath availed me an hundred pounds in my
dayes. When _Adam_ saw there was no remedy, he was content; but when
they should depart _Adam_ stayed behind his Master to reckon with his
Hostis, and on his Masters Scarlet cloake borrowed so much mony, as
came to all their charges he had laid out by the way. His Master had
not ridden past two miles, but it began to raine apace: wherefore
he called for his cloake. His other men made answer that _Adam_ was
behinde, and had it with him. So they shrowded them under a tree, till
_Adam_ came. When he came, his Master said all angerly, Thou knave,
come give me my cloak: hast thou not served me well, to let me be thus
wet? Truely, Sir, (quoth _Adam_) I have laid it to pawne for all your
charges by the way. Why, knave, quoth he, didst thou not promise me
to beare my charges to London? Did I? quoth Adam; I, quoth his Master,
that thou didst. Let's see, shew me your writing of it, quoth _Adam_.
Whereupon, his Master perceiving he was over-reacht by his man, was
fain to send for his cloak againe, and pay the money.
There was a singular mania in this century for chronograms, or making
up dates out of words, which will be best explained in the annexed
example. Jas. Hilton, Esq., has by dint of vast trouble and research,
been enabled to collect a large quantity of these, and his
book[F. 104] (of which only a very limited number were printed) will
well repay the perusal of the curious.
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