Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 83

Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 83

A Gentleman Hawk'd in another mans ground, to which the surly

owner shew'd himself angry; at which the Gentleman spet in his face.

What is your reason for that? said the Farmer. I cry you mercy, said

the Gentleman, I gave you warning, for I hawked before I spet.

 

 

[67.] A Scholar traveyling, and having noe money, call'd at an

Alehouse, and ask'd for a penny loafe, then gave his hostesse it

againe, for a pot of ale; and having drunke it of, was going away. The

woman demanded a penny of him. For what? saies he. Shee answers, for

y^e ale. Quoth hee, I gave you y^e loafe for it. Then, said she, pay

for y^e loafe. Quoth hee, had you it not againe? which put y^e woman

to a _non plus_, that y^e scholar went free away.

 

 

[93.] _George_ (_Peele_) lying at an old Widdowes house, and had gone

on so farre on the Score, that his credit would stretch no further:

for she had made a vow not to depart with drinke or victuals without

ready money. Which _George_ seeing the fury of his froward Hostis, in

griefe kept his Chamber; called to his Hostis and told her, she

should understand that he was not without money, how poorely soever he

appeared to her, and that my diet shall testifie: in the meane time,

good Hostis, quoth he, send for such a friend of mine. Shee did:

so his friend came: to whom _George_ imparted his mind; the effect

whereof was this, to pawne his Cloake, Hose and Doublet, unknowne

to his Hostis: for, quoth _George_ this seven nights doe I intend to

keepe my bed. (Truly hee spake, for his intent was that the bed

should not keepe him any longer). Away goes he to pawne his apparell;

_George_ bespeakes good cheere to supper, which was no shamble butcher

stuffe, but according to the place; for, his Chamber being remote

from the house, at the end of the Garden, his apparell being gone, it

appeared to him as the Counter; therefore to comfort himselfe he dealt

in Poultrie. His friend brought the money, supped with him: his Hostis

hee very liberally payed, but cavelled with her at her unkindnesse:

vowing that while he lay there, none should attend him but his friend.

The Hostis reply'd, A God's name, she was well contented with it: so

was _George_ too: for none knew better than himselfe what he intended;

but in briefe thus he used his kinde Hostis. After his Apparell and

Money was gone, hee made bolde with the feather bed hee lay on, which

his friend-ship convey'd away, having as villanous a Wolfe in his

belly as _George_, though not altogether so wise; for that feather

bed they devoured in two daies, feathers and all, which was no sooner

digested, but away went the Coverlet, Sheetes and the Blancket; and at

the last dinner, when _George's_ good friend perceiving nothing left

but the bed-cords, as the Devill would have it, straight came into his

mind the fashion of a halter; the foolish kind knave would needs fetch

a quart of sacke for his friend _George_; which Sacke to this day

never saw Vintners Cellar; and so he left _George_ in a cold chamber,

a thin shirt, a ravished bed, no comfort left him, but the bare bones

of deceased Capons. In this distresse, George bethought him what he

might doe; nothing was left him; and as his eye wandred up and downe

the empty Chamber, by chance he spied out an old Armour; at which

sight George was the joyfullest man in Christendome; for the Armour of

Achilles, that Ulysses and Ajax strove for, was not more precious to

them, than this to him: for hee presently claps it upon his backe, the

Halbert in his hand, the Moryon on his head, and so gets out the backe

way, marches from Shorditch to Clarkenwell, to the no small wonder of

those spectators that beheld him. Being arrived to the wished haven

he would be, an old acquaintance of his furnished him with an old Sute

and an old Cloake for his old Armour.

 

 

A Lawier being sicke and extreame ill, [102.]

Was mooved by his friends to make his will,

For they with one consent resolved all;

He never more would see Westminster Hall.

Hee feeling in himselfe his end was neere,

Unto their counsell did encline his eare;

And absolute gave all the wealth he had

To franticke persons, lunaticke and mad,

To no man else he would a pennie give,

But only such as doe in _Bedlem_ live.

This caused his friends most strangely to admire,

And some of them his reason did require?

Quoth he, my reason to you I'le reveale:

That you may see with equitie I deale.

From mad mens hands I did my wealth receave,

Therefore that wealth to madmens hands I leave.

 

 

[110.] Not farre from maister _Hobsons_ house, there dwelled one of

those cunning men, otherwise called fortune tellers, such

cossoning[F. 219] companions, as at this day, (by their Crafts) make

simple women beleeve how they can tell what husbands they shall have,

how many children, how many sweetharts, and such like: if goods bee

stole, who hath them, with promise to helpe them to their losses

againe; with many other like deceiptfull elusions. To this wise man

(as some termes him) goes maister _Hobson_, not to reap any benefit

by his crafty cunning, but to make a Jest, and tryall of his

experience, so, causing one of his servants to lead a masty[F. 220]

dog after him, staying at the Cuning mans doore with the dog in his

hand, up goes master _Hobson_ to y^e wise man, requesting his skil,

for he had lost ten pound lately taken from him by theeves, but when

and how he knew not well. The cunning man knowing maister _Hobson_

to be one of his neighbors, and a man of a good reputation, fell (as

he made showe) to conjuring and casting of figures, and after a few

words of incantation, as his common use was, hee tooke a very large

faire looking glasse, and bad Maister _Hobson_ to looke in the same,

but not to cast his eyes backward in any Case; the which hee did,

and therein saw the picture of a huge and large oxe with two broad

hornes on his head, the which was no otherwise, but as hee had often

deceitfully shewd to others, a cossoning fellow like the cunning man

himselfe, clothed in an oxe hide, which fellow he maintained as his

servant, to blinde the peoples eyes withall, and to make them

beleeve hee could shew them the Divill at his pleasure in a glasse:

this vision maister _Hobson_ perceving, & gessing at the knavery

thereof, gave a whistle for his dog, which then stayed below at the

doore, in his man's keeping, which whistle being no sooner hard but

the dog ran up the stayers to his maister, as hee had beene mad,

and presently fastned upon the poor fellow in the oxe hide, and so

tore him as it was pittifull to see. The Cunning man cried for the

passion of God take off your dog. No, (quoth Maister _Hobson_) let

the Divill and the Dogge fight, venture thou thy divill, and I will

venture my dog. To conclude, the oxe hide was torne from the fellows

backe, and so their knaveryes were discovered, and their cunning

shifts layd open to the world.

 

[Footnote 219: Cozening, cheating.]

 

[Footnote 220: Mastiff.]

 

 

[94.] A Country fellow going down _Ludgate Hill_, his heels by chance

slipping from him, fell upon his Breech: one standing by, told him

that _London_ Streets were stout and scornful: It may be so, quoth he,

yet I made them to kisse my Breech, as stout as they were.

 

 

 

 

The London Ladies Vindication

 

of

 

Top-Knots:

 

With the many Reasons that She shows for the Continuation of the same:

 

As also proving Men to be as Proud as themselves.

 

 

To the Tune of, _Here I love, There I love_: Or, _The two English

Travellers_.

 

Licensed according to Order.

 

 

Young Women and Damsels that love to go fine, [112.]

Come listen a while to this Ditty of mine,

In spight of all Poets, brave Girls, we will wear

_Our Towers and Top Knots, with Powdered Hair_.

 

I am a young Woman, 'tis very well known,

And I am resolv'd to make use of my own,

In spight of all Poets, brave Girls, we will wear

_A Tower and Top Knot, with Powdered Hair_.

 

They talk of a Calf which was seen in our dress,

But let us take Courage, Girls, nevertheless.

In spight of those Rumours, we'll constantly wear

_A Tower and Top Knot, and Powdered Hair_.

 

We are not such Fools to believe what they say,

'Tis fit that young Women should go fine and gay,

In spight of their Bugbears, brave Girls, let us wear,

_Rich Towers and Top Knots, with Powdered Hair_.

 

Were we to be Ruled by some sort of Men,

We should go like Women of Fourscore and Ten,

In spight of those Cox combs, brave Girls, we will wear

_Rich Towers and Top Knots, with Powdered Hair_.

 

Like Beautiful Angels we strive to appear,

The Hearts of our Husbands in order to cheer,

Then what is the Reason that we may not wear

_Rich Towers and Top Knots, with Powdered Hair_.

 

[Illustration]

 

If we are the Pleasure and Joy of their Life,

Pray when can they take more delight in a Wife,

Then at the same time when rich Garments they wear,

_With Towers and Top Knots, and Powdered Hair_.

 

We see the young Misses and Jilts of the Town,