Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 89

Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 89

There was an olde woman that had but one tooth in her head, &

that did ake very sore, she went to Master _Scogin_ for remedy. Come

with me, mother, said _Scogin_, & you shall be healed by & by. He then

got a packthreed, and went to the Smiths forge with the woman, and

he said to the Smith, I pray you, heate me a Coulter in your Forge. I

will, said the Smith. Then he went to the old woman, and said, Mother,

let me see your tooth, and she did so: he took his packthreed and

bound it fast about the tooth, & tyed the other end of the thred at

the ring of the forge doore, whereat the Smith used to tie his horses

& mares, and when the Coulter was glowing hot, _Scogin_ tooke the

Coulter and ran with it against the old woman, saying; Why dost thou

stand here like an old mare? I will run thee through with this hot

Coulter. The woman being afraid, gave a braid[F. 227] with her head,

and ran her way, & left her tooth behind her. _Scogin_ ran after the

woman, and she cryed out for helpe (for she was afraid that _Scogin_

would have burnt her.) The Smith ran after _Scogin_ for his Coulter,

for he was afraid that _Scogin_ would run away with it.

 

[Footnote 227: A start, a toss of the head.]

 

 

[94.] One perswaded a Scholar that was much given to rambling, and

going abroad, to sell or put away his Cushion, and it would be a means

to make him sit harder to his study.

 

 

[26.] A Scholar in _Oxford_ was often sent to by a Citizen for

Money, which he pretended was due to him, and finding his answer not

according to expectation he took the boldness and went to him himself,

and modestly said to him in private: Sir, There's some Money betwixt

you and I. Say you so, says the Scholar, I pray where is it? we'll

divide it if you please. Sir, says he, I have taken your word for it

hitherto. Truly, says he, so you are like to do till you are paid.

 

 

[4.] A young lad being chid by his Uncle, for lying a Bed so long in

a Morning, telling him that such a one had found a Purse of Money by

rising early in the Morning: I, says the Lad smartly, but he rose too

early that lost it.

 

 

[110.] Maister _Hobson_ on a time in company of one of his neighbors,

roade from London towards Sturbridge faire, so the first night of

there jorny they lodged at _Ware_ in an Inne where great store of

Company was, and in the morning when every man made him ready to

ride, and some were on horsbacke setting forward, the Cittizen, his

neighbour found him sitting at the Inne gate, booted and spurd, in a

browne studdy, to whome hee saide, for shame, Maister _Hobson_, why

sitte you heare, why doe you not make your selfe redy to horsebacke,

that we may set forward with company? Maister Hobson replyed in this

manner, I tarry (quoth he) for a good cause. For what cause? quoth his

neighbour. Mary, quoth Maister _Hobson_, here be so many horses, that

I cannot tell which is mine owne, and I know well, when every man is

ridden and gone, the horse that remaneth behind, must needs be mine.

 

 

[17.] A Puritan coming to a Cheese mongers to buy Cheese, when he gave

him a tast, he put his hat before his eyes, to say Grace; Nay, says

he, I see instead of tasting my Cheese, you intend to make a meal of

it.

 

 

 

 

The BEGGARS

 

CHORUS

 

IN THE JOVIAL CREW.

 

 

To an excellent New Tune.[F. 228]

 

[Illustration]

 

 

There was a jovial Beggar, [119.]

he had a wooden Leg,

Lame from his Cradle,

and forced for to Beg;

_And a Begging we will go, we'll go, we'll go,

And a Begging we will go._

 

A Bag for my Oatmeal,

another for my Salt,

A little pair of Crutches,

to see how I can halt;

_And a Begging, &c_

 

A Bag for my Bread,

another for my Cheese,

A little Dog to follow me,

to gather what I leese.

_And a Begging &c_

 

A Bag for my Wheat,

another for my Rye,

A little Bottle by my side,

to drink when I'm a dry.

_And a Begging we will go, we'll go, we'll go,

And a Begging we will go._

 

To _Pimlico_ we'll go,

where merry we shall be,

With ev'ry Man, a Can in's hand,

and a Wench upon his knee.

_And a Begging &c_

 

Seven years I served

my old Master Wild,

Seven years I begged

whilst I was but a Child

_And a begging &c_

 

I had the pretty knack

for to wheedle and to cry,

By young and by old

much pitied e'er was I.

_And a begging &c_

 

Fatherless and Motherless

still was my Complaint,

And none that ever saw me

but took me for a Saint.

_And a begging &c_

 

I begg'd for my Master,

and got him store of Pelf,

But _Jove_ now be praised,

I now beg for myself.

_And a begging &c_

 

Within a hollow Tree

I live, and pay no Rent,

Providence provides for me,

and I am well content.

_And a begging &c_

 

Of all occupations

a Beggar lives the best,

For when he is a weary,

he'll lie him down and rest.

_And a begging &c_

 

I fear no Plots against me,

but live in open Cell;

Why who woud be a King

when a Beggar lives so well?

_And a begging &c._

 

_Printed for_ R. Brooksby _at the_ Golden Ball _in_ Pye-Corner.

 

[Footnote 228: For tune, see Appendix.]

 

 

[67.] A Company went to an Inne without money, when ye reckoning was

to be pay'd, one called his hostesse, asking her what it was: she said

two shillings. Then he askt her what one should pay for bloodshed:

she answered ten groats. Then, said he, cut my finger and give me y^e

rest[F. 229] againe.

 

[Footnote 229: _i.e._ give me the change.]

 

 

[52.] One _Dromo_, a certaine Tiler, sitting upon a ridge of a House,

laying on certaine roofe tiles, looking backe, and reaching somewhat

too far for a little morter, that lay by him, fell backward and by

good hap, fell upon a man that was sitting under the house, whom with

his fall he bruised to death, but thereby saved his owne life. Not

many dayes after, a sonne of the dead mans, caused this man to be

apprehended for murther, and, having him before the Judge, cried unto

the Judge for justice: who asking the prisoner what hee could say for

himselfe, received this answer. Truly, Sir, I never thought the man

any hurt, neither did I thinke to fall: but since it was my hap to hit

upon him to save my life, if it please your Lordship, I am contented

that he shall have justice; for my selfe, I had no malice to his

father, though I see he hath a great deale to me: but let him doe his

worst, I care not, I aske no favour: let him go up to the top of the

house where I sate, and I will sit where his father sate; let him fall

from the place as cunningly as hee can, and fall upon mee to save his

life, I will bee contented. The Judge seeing the mans innocency,

and how farre he was from intent of any evill to the man whom he

had slaine, willed the complainant to take this course for his

contentment: which he refusing, was dismissed the Court, and the

Prisoner thus by his wity answer released.

 

 

[110.] There was a certaine farmer that lost forty pounds betwixt

_Cambridge_ and _London_, and being so great a summe, he made

proclamation in all market Townes there abouts, that whosoever had

found forty and five pounds, should have the five pounds for his

labour for finding it, and therefore he put in the five pound more

than was lost. It was Maister _Hobsons_ fortune to find the same

sum of forty pounds, and brought the same to the baylive of _Ware_ &

required the five pounds for his paines, as it was proclaymed. When

the country farmer understood this, and that he must needs pay five

pounds for the finding, he sayd that there was in the purse five and

forty pounds, and so would hee have his owne mony and five pounds

over. So long they strove, that the matter was brought before a

Justice of the Peace, which was one Maister _Fleetwood_, who after

was Recorder of London; but when Maister _Fleetwood_ understood by the

bayleife that the proclamation was made for a purse of five and forty

pound, he demanded where it was. Here, quoth the baylie, and gave

it him. Is it just forty pound? said Maister _Fleetwood_. Yes truly,

(quoth the bayleife) Here maister _Hobson_, sayd Ma. _Fleetwood_, take

you this mony for it is your owne, and if you chance to find a purse

of five and forty pound, bring it to this honest farmer. That is mine,

quoth the farmer, for I lost just forty pound. You speake too late

(quoth Maister _Fleetwood_). Thus the farmer lost the mony, and

maister _Hobson_ had it according to justice.

 

 

[67.] Mr. French the King's Fisher, beeing a Widower, married a young

woman, and shortly died, on whom one made this distich.