Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 95

Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 95

A Citizen having married a Cockney, and he taking her with him

into the Country, to see his Friends, as they were riding spyed a

Willow tree on which abundance of Wants or Moles were hung: O dear,

says she, Husband, look what a fine Tree here is; I never knew how

they grew till now; for it is a Black Pudding tree.

 

 

[82.] A man was very angry with his maid, because his eggs were boyled

too hard; truly, said she, I have made them boyle a long houre, but

the next you have, shall boyle two houres but they shall be tender

enough.

 

 

[26.] A Man in a bitter cold Winter night was passing through the

Street, and seeing all a Bed, and no Candle in any Window neither;

then bethought himself of this project; for then he went up and down

crying Fire, Fire, which made several come to the Windows: They askt

him where? where? He told them that he did not know, for if he did, he

would go to't to warm himself; For, says he, I am devilish cold.

 

 

 

 

The Country-mans new care away.

 

 

To the Tune of, _Love will find out the way_.

 

 

[Illustration]

 

 

If there were imployments [125.]

for men, as have beene,

And Drummes, Pikes and Muskets

in th' field to be seene,

And every worthy Souldier

had truely their pay,

Then might they be bolder

to sing, Care away.

 

If there were no Rooking,

but plaine dealing used,

If honest Religion

were no wayes abused,

If pride in the Country

did not beare sway,

The Poore and the Gentry

might sing, Care away.

 

If Farmers consider'd

the dearenesse of graine,

How honest poore Tradesmen

their charge should maintaine,

And would bate the price on't

to sing, Care away

We should not be nice on't

of what we did pay.

 

If poore Tenants, Landlords

would not racke their rents,

Which oft is the cause of

their great discontents,

If, againe, good house-keeping

in th' Land did beare sway,

The poore that sits weeping

might sing, Care away.

 

If Spendthrifts were carefull

and would leave their follies,

Ebriety hating

Cards, Dice, Bowling-Alleyes,

Or with wantons to dally

by night or by day,

Their wives might be merry,

and sing, Care away.

 

If Children to Parents

would dutifull be,

If Servants with Masters

would deale faithfully,

If Gallants poore Tradesmen

would honestly pay,

Then might they have Comfort

to sing, Care away.

 

There is no contentment

to a conscience that's cleare,

That man is most wretched

a bad mind doth beare,

To wrong his poore Neighbour

by night or by day,

He wants the true comfort

to sing, Care away.

 

But he that is ready

by goodnesse to labour,

In what he is able

to helpe his poore Neighbour,

The Lord will ever blesse him

by night and by day,

All ioyes shall possesse him

to sing, Care away.

 

Would wives with their husbands,

and husbands with wives

In love and true friendship

would so lead their lives,

As best might be pleasing

to God night and day,

Then they with hearts easing

might sing, Care away.

 

No crosse can be greater

unto a good mind,

Than a man to be matched

with a woman unkind,

Whose tongue is never quiet

but scolds night and day,

That man wants the comfort

to sing, Care away.

 

A Vertuous woman

a husband that hath,

That's given unto lewdnesse,

to envy and wrath,

Who after wicked women

does hunt for his prey,

That woman wants comfort

to sing, Care away.

 

Like true subiects loyall,

to God let us pray,

Our good king so Royall,

to preserve night and day:

With the Queen, Prince and Nobles,

the Lord blesse them aye,

Then may we have comfort

to sing, Care away.

 

 

[82.] There was a lusty young Scholler preferred to a Benefice in the

Country, and commonly on Sundayes and holy dayes after evening prayer

hee would have a dozen bouts at cudgels with the sturdiest youths in

his parish: The Bishop of the Diocesse hearing of it, sent for the

parson, telling him this beseemed not his profession and gravity, and

if that he did not desist from that unmeet kind of exercise, hee

would unbenefice him. Good my Lord, (said the Parson) I beseech you

to conceive rightly of mee, and I doubt not but my playing at cudgels

will be counted tollerable; for I doe it of purpose to edifie the

ruder sort of my people. How so, said the Bishop. Marry, my Lord,

(quoth the Parson) whatsoever I do teach them at morning and evening

prayer, I doe beat soundly into their heads with cudgels afterward,

for their better remembrance.

 

 

[94.] He that buys a Horse in _Smithfield_, and does not look upon

him with a pair of Spectacles, before he buys him, makes his Horse and

himself a pair of sorrowful Spectacles for others to look at.

 

 

[110.] Upon a time Maister _Hobson_ lying in saint Albones, there came

certaine musitions to play at his chamber doore, to the intent as they

filled his eares with their musicke, he should fil their purses with

mony: whereupon he bad one of the servants of the Inne (that waited

upon him) to goe and tell them that hee could not then indure to

heare their musicke for he mourned for the death of his mother, so the

musitians disapoynted of their purpose went sadly all away. The fellow

heard him speake of mourning, asked him how long agoe it is since

he buried his mother; truely (quoth maister _Hobson_) it is now very

neare forty yeares agoe. The fellow understanding his subtilty, and

how wittily he sent away the musitians, laughed very hartely.

 

 

[52.] On a Winters evening a Country husband man went to fetch his

wives kine home to milk, and driving them into the back side, hee

forgot to shut the gate, and hee comes into the house, sits him down

by the fire side. The kine finding the gate open, ranne trotting and

lowing downe the durty lane, toward the field, and the mans daughter

looking forth at the doore and seeing them, cries out to her mother,

Faith my father is a fine man, I think the kine are gone to the

devill, shall I goe after them? No (quoth her mother) daughter, you

are too forward: Let your father goe, he's fitter, he has his hie

shoone on.

 

 

_A Song._

 

Sir _Francis_, Sir _Francis_, Sir _Francis_ his Son, [121.]

Sir _Robert_ and eke Sir _William_ did come,

And eke the good Earl of _Southampton_

March't on his way most gallantly;

And then the Queen began to speak,

Youre welcome home Sir _Francis Drake_.

Then came my Lord Chamberlain, and with his white staffe,

And all the people began for to laugh.

 

_The Queen's Speech._--

 

Gallants all of British bloud,

Why do ye not saile on th' Ocean flood?

I protest ye'are not all worth a Philberd

Compared with Sir Humphrey Gilberd.

 

_The Queen's Reason._

 

For he walkt forth in a rainy day,

To the new-found Land he took his way,

With many a gallant fresh and green;

He never came home agen.[F. 243] God bless the Queen.