Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 37

Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 37

Again [45]--"As for newes from the North, I

heare it further confirmed, that the rumour which was here about Towne

concerning P^r _Ruperts_ hiding himselfe in a Beane field, and

for which act hee is almost quite out of the Malignants bookes, is

acknowledged to be most certaine, Nay, and I myselfe have heard it

confessed from the mouths of some notorious Malignants: It had

beene brave, with a blood hound there to have found him out, the

plunderings, cruelties, Massacrings, rapes, and bloodshed, which lie

upon his conscience, and which he cannot but beare about continually,

must needs have yelded a strong scent to betray him unto revenge. But

though his _Necromantick_ Dogge, his _Mephistophiles_, was slaine,

yet he seemes he made a shift to get secure into _Yorke_, and there to

sweare the Townesmen into an opinion of his Victory." And in another

newspaper [48] he is mentioned thus--"Amongst the dead Men and Horses

which lay on the ground, wee found Prince _Ruperts_ Dog killed. (This

is onely mentioned by the way; because the Prince his Dog, hath been

much spoken of, and was more prized by his Master than Creatures of

much more worth.)"

 

[Illustration]

 

A contemporary tract [46] (which is a dry political discussion,

and has nothing whatever to do with the title-page) furnishes the

accompanying engraving, which is exceedingly graphic. Here we again

see poor Boy, exactly as described, lying "dead neere the Beanfield,"

which is represented with preraphaelite fidelity. It is also hinted

at in the engraving which shows him being shot "by a Valliant Soulder,

who had skill in Necromancy," but in this one is introduced the head

of Prince Rupert, who is supposed to be there hiding.

 

His baggage fell into the hands of the victorious Parliamentarians,

and the satirist cannot help having a fling at the Prince's Romish

proclivities, as the contents of his sumpter horses' baggage shows

bulls, crucifixes, images, a bell, etc. On this subject there is

another satire [47]--"The Catholikes Petition to Prince Rupert," from

which the accompanying engraving is taken.

 

[Illustration]

 

But the Prince had another pet, a she monkey, and the satirist must

needs make that inoffensive animal a mark at which to spit his spite,

although nothing like the supernatural powers of _Boy_ were attributed

to her. There are two portraits extant of her, but I have only

reproduced one, the dresses in both cases being precisely similar,

and may probably represent her real costume [49]. In this tract she

is described as--"I never saw such a strange fashioned creature in my

life; for she hath a kind of Round-head as smooth as an apple, and

if there be any Round-head this Munkey is one, her brow is low and

wrinkled hanging over her little eyes; her nose thats flatt is very

short, her cheekes are leane and lanke, and her thin lipps do hardly

cover her teeth, the complection of her whole face is swarthy, cover'd

with hayre greene as mosse, and lastly she hides her head in a black

bagg, moreover she weares a greene or yellow gowne trimmed about with

lace, & a girdle about her middle by the which she is fastned to the

nave of a wheele, for the Prince is full of feares and Jelousies that

if she were loose she would steale away into some wood and live there

upon nutts and apples.... Thus P. _Ruperts_ Monkey is a kind of

old, little, wrinkled, old faced, petulant, wanton, and malignant

gentlewoman ... that sometimes rides upon the beast that is Prince

_Rupert's_ dog....

 

[Illustration]

 

Prince _Rupert's_ Monkey is a toy,

That doth exceed his dog called Boy,

Which through dogged folly,

Both Barkes and Bites,

But this delights

The Prince when's melancholy.

 

He puts sweetemeats and sugar plumbs

Into his Monkey's toothlesse gums,

Which open like an oyster,

For he doth esteeme

A wench I meane,

More than a Nun in a Cloister."

 

The colour of her dress is also described in a tract, before quoted

from [39]--"And Prince _Roberts_ Monkey dare not come thither, lest

the Parliaments Bitch should tear her green coat off from her back."

 

Her food is described in another tract [50]--"She would eat no

oatmeal, nor lome of walls to cure her infirmitie, but the longest

whitest sugar plums she could put into her mouth, were most

delightfull to her taste, and had such a ravenous appetite to fruit

that she would swallow all but the stones, and having gotten a

delectable bit in her mouth, she would onely suck the juice out of

it and then spit out the rest.... Moreover this Monkey was and is by

nature a notable plunderer not onely of studdies and closets, into

which, if she got, she would teare the books, spill the ink, and eat

the sweetmeats."

 

This is about all I dare reproduce about this pet of Prince Rupert's,

the remainder of these tracts being filled with political allusions,

which are somewhat hard to be understood now, and of no interest to

this book, the remainder being written somewhat more coarsely than

usual. But enough has been said about them to show how the satirists

of that age seized upon any thing which they could turn to their

purpose.

 

[Footnote 64: Memoirs of Prince Rupert and the Cavaliers, by

Eliot Warburton. Lond. 1849.]

 

[Footnote 65: This is reproduced on p. 360 of "Chap Books of

the 18th Century," by John Ashton. Lond. 1882.]

 

[Footnote 66: These italics are mine.]

 

 

A Citizen for Recreations Sake [51.]

To see the Countrie would a journie make,

Some dozen mile, or little more,

Taking his leave of friends two months before;

With drinking healths, and shaking by the hand,

As he had travail'd to some new-found land.

Well, taking horse, with very much a doe,

_London_ he leaveth for a day or two:

And as he rideth meets upon the way

Such (as what haste soever) bid men stay;

Sirrah (sayes one) stand, and your purse deliver;

I am a taker, you must be a giver.

Unto a wood hard by they hale him in,

And rifle him unto the very skin.

Masters (quoth he) pray heare me ere you goe,

For you have robbed more than you doe know:

My horse (in troth) I borrowed of my Brother,

The Bridle and the Saddle of another:

The Jerkin and the Bases[F. 67] be a Taylers,

The Scarfe, I doe assure you, is a Saylers:

The Falling-band is likewise none of mine,

Nor Cuffes, as true as this good light doth shine:

The Sattin Doublet and the Velvet Hose,

Are our Church-wardens, all the parish knowes.

The Bootes are _John_ the Grocers of the Swan,

The Spurs were lent me by a Serving-man:

One of my Rings, (that with the great red Stone)

Insooth I borrowed of my gossip _Joane_.

Her husband knowes not of it gentlemen,

Thus stands my case, I pray shew favour then.

Why (quoth the theeves) thou needst not greatly care,

Since in thy losse so many beare a share:

The world growes hard, many good fellows lack

Look not at this time for a penny back.

Goe tell at _London_, thou didst meet with four,

That rifling thee hath rob'd at least a score.

 

[Footnote 67: The exact meaning of these garments seems to be

in doubt. They were probably some kind of skirt.]

 

 

_The Connicatcher_[F. 68] _and Priest of Paris._

 

[52.] A lewd knave, a Cheater, espied a wealthy Priest, whose purse

was full of money, lately arrived in the City of Paris out of the

Countrey to buy necessaries, and with a bold face saluted him,

requested his aid in a small matter concerning a man of his own

calling. What's that, (quoth the Priest?) It is, Sir, (quoth he) this.

The Parson of our Towne hath given mee money to buy a Surplesse, and

I, having small knowledge in it, would request your ayde in the Choyce

of a good one, making no question of your good skill. With all my

heart (quoth the Priest.)

 

Comming to the shop of sale, the Connicatcher called for some choyce

Surplesses, and desired the Priest to choose out one of the best.

Which done, intreated him to assay it, whether it were in all points

as it ought to be. The Priest was nimble at his game, for it was his

dayly exercise, but the Cheater found fault with the making, bearing

out such an uncomly bulke at his right side. Oh (quoth the Priest) my

girdle and pouch is cause of that, and immediately loosed his girdle

and pouch, willing the Connicatcher to hold it till he had better

girded up the Surplesse as it ought to be. The Connicatcher having as

much as he desired suddenly leapt out of the shop and ranne away as

fast as he could with the Priests girdle and pouch full of money.

The Priest turning about, and seeing his purse and money flying for

religion (_sic_) made all the haste he could in the Surplesse after

the Connicatcher, crying and calling Hold the Theefe, Hold the Theefe,

The Connicatcher cried out. Hold the Priest, for he is mad, and will

kill me: the shopkeeper followed as fast as he could and cried, Stop

the Priest, for he hath stolne my Surplesse. The people halfe amazed

at this accident, laid hold on the Priest, but before he could declare

his misfortune, the Connicatcher was gone far enough, not to be caught