Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 35

Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 35

A new married Bride._

 

The first of all our sex, came from the side of man, [5.]

I thither am return'd from whence I came.

 

 

_Of finding a hare._

 

A Gallant full of life, and void of care. [6.]

Asked his friend if he would find a hare?

He that for sleepe, more than such sports did care,

Said, Goe your waies, and leave me heere alone;

Let them find hares that lost them, I lost none.

 

 

The next illustration is from a single sheet broadside entitled

"Englands Wolfe with eagles clawes, or the cruell Impieties of

Bloud-Thirsty Royalists, and blasphemous _Anti-Parliamentarians_,

under the command of that inhumane Prince _Rupert_, _Digby_, and the

rest. Wherein the barbarous Crueltie of our Civill uncivill Warres is

briefly discovered. London: Printed by _Matthew Simmons_ dwelling in

_Aldersgate_ Streete. 1646."

 

[Illustration]

 

This broadside scarcely comes within the scope of this work, dealing

as it does with the alleged cruelties committed by the Cavaliers; but

the engraving clearly is a political satire, not only on the Cavaliers

themselves, but on their extravagances in dress.

 

 

[18.] If you ask why borrowed Books seldom return to their Owners?

this is the Reason one gives for it: _Because 'tis easier to keep 'em,

than what is in them._

 

 

[8.] There was a Painter became a Physician, whereupon one said to

him, You have done well, for before the faults of your work were seen,

but now they are unseen.

 

 

A Lawyer said in jest [12.]

A Taylor is the best

Client in all the Land:

And his reason is good,

If well understood,

'Cause he has so many Suits in hand.

 

 

_In Richardum quendam, Divitem, Avarum._

 

Devising on a time what name I might [24.]

Best give unto a dry illiberall chuffe,

After long search on his owne name I light,

Nay then (said I) No more, I have enough;

His name and nature do full well agree,

For's name is _Rich_ and _hard_; and so is he.

 

 

 

 

The Dumb MAID,[F. 62]

 

or, the

 

Young Gallant Trappan'd.

 

 

_A young Man did unto her a Wooing come,

But she pretended much that she was dumb;

But when they both in Marriage bands were ty'd,

The Doctor's skill was likewise with her try'd;

The Doctor he set her Tongue on the Run,

She Chatters now and never will have done._

 

To a New Tune, call'd, _Dum, dum, dum_; Or, I would I were in my own

Country &c.

 

Licens'd and Enter'd according to Order.

 

 

All you that pass along, [35.]

Give ear unto my song,

Concerning a youth

that was young, young, young;

And of a Maiden fair

Few with her might compare

But alack, and alas, she

_was dumb, dumb, dumb_.

 

She was beautious, fresh and gay

Like the pleasant Flowers in _May_,

And her cheeks was as round,

as a plum, plum, plum;

She was neat in every part,

And she stole away his heart,

But alack, and alas, she

_was dumb, dumb, dumb_.

 

At length this Country Blade,

Wedded this prety Maid,

And he kindly conducted

her home, home, home;

Thus in her Beauty bright,

Lay all his whole Delight

But alack, and alas,

she was dumb, dumb, dumb.

 

Now will I plainly show

What work this Maid could do,

Which a Pattern may be,

For girls young, young, young:

O she both day and night

In working took delight.

But alack, and alas, she

_was dumb, dumb, dumb_.

 

[Illustration]

 

She could brew, and she could bake,

She could wash, wring and shake,

She could sweep the house

with a broom, broom, broom:

She could knit and sow and spin,

And do any such like thing

But alack, and alas, she

_was dumb, dumb, dumb_.

 

But at last this man did go,

The Doctor's skill to know,

Saying, Sir, can you cure

a Woman of the Dumb?

O it is the easiest part,

That belongs unto my Art,

For to cure a Woman

_of the Dumb, dumb, dumb_.

 

To the Doctor he did her bring,

And he cut her Chattering-string,

And he set her Tongue on

the run, run, run:

In the morning he did rise,

And she fill'd his house with cries,

And she rattled in his ears

like a drum, drum, drum.

 

To the Doctor he did go,

With his heart well fill'd with woe,

Crying, Doctor, I am

undone, done, done;

Now she's turn'd a scolding Wife

And I'm weary of my life,

Nor I cannot make her hold

her tongue, tongue, tongue.

 

The Doctor thus did say,

When she went from me away,

She was perfectly cured of

the dumb, dumb, dumb.

But it's beyond the Art of Man,

Let him do the best he can,

For to make a scolding Woman

hold her tongue, tongue, tongue.

 

So as you to me came

Return you back again

And take you the Oyl

of Hazel[F. 63] strong

With it anoint her Body round,

When she makes the House to sound,

So perhaps you may charm her,

tongue, tongue, tongue.

 

[Footnote 62: For tune, see Appendix.]

 

[Footnote 63: A hazel switch.]

 

 

[26.] A Schoolmaster did always dictate to his Scholars. _H non est

Litera_, that is H is no letter; and on a time he call'd one of the

Scholars to him, and bid him _heat the Cawdle_, and when he askt for

it, the Scholar told him, _that he had done with the Cawdle as he bid

him_. _What's that?_ says his Master, _Why Sir_, says he, _I did eat

it._ _Sirrah_, says he, _I bid you heat it with an H_. _Yes Sir_, says

he, _But I did eat it with Bread_.