Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 49

Humour wit Satire of the Seventeenth Century 49

But now I have kill'd her,

I can't her recall,

I will sell my poor Colly,

hide, horns and all:

_Sing Oh &c_

 

The Butcher shall have her,

though he gives but a pound;

And he knows in his heart

that my Colly was sound;

_Sing Oh &c_

 

And when he has bought her,

let him sell all together,

The flesh for to eat,

and the hide for leather:

_Sing Oh &c_--

 

FINIS.

 

Printed for C. Passinger, at the seven stars in the New Buildings on

London-bridge--

 

 

[17.] A Miser having a sheep stolen from him, by a poor man, would

needs send him to Prison, saying there was not so damn'd a Rogue in

the World; Pray, Sir, said he, _remember yourself, and be good to

me_--

 

 

A Glass, when a G [12.]

Is took away, I.C.

Is a Lass, I mean of the Game,

Put L too away,

What is't then, I pray,

Why, an Ass, and you are the same.

 

 

[4.] A Nobleman having a mind to be merry, sent for his Chaplain, and

told him, That, unless he could resolve him these three Questions, he

should be discarded, and turn'd out of his Service; but if he cou'd,

he shou'd have Thirty Guinneys, and the best Horse in his Stable;

So he propos'd the Questions to him, which were these; _First, what

compass the World was about?_ _Secondly, How deep the Sea was?_

_And Thirdly, What he thought?_ The Poor Chaplain was in a peck

of Troubles, and did not know how to answer them, or what to say,

thinking them very unreasonable Questions; so that all he could do was

to desire a little time to consider upon them, which the Earl granted.

So he going along the Fields one day very melancholy, a Cobler of

the Town, a Merry Fellow (who was very like the Chaplain, both in

Physiognomy and Stature) met him, and ask'd him the reason of his

sadness; which with some Reluctancy he told him: O Sir, says the

Cobler, don't be dejected, chear up; I've thought of a device to save

your Place, and get you the Money and Horse too; but you shall give

me Ten Guinneys for my pains. So he agreed to't; and it was thus:

Says he, I'll put on your Cloaths, and go to My Lord, and answer

his Questions. Accordingly he went, and when he came before him, he

answer'd him thus: To the first Question, _What Compass the World was

about?_ He answered, _It was four and twenty hours Journey; and if a

man could keep pace with the Sun, he could easily go it in that time._

To the Second, _How deep the Sea was?_ He answer'd _Only a stone's

throw; for cast it into the deepest place of it, and in time it will

come to the bottom._ To the third (which I fancy your Lordship thinks

the most difficult to be resolv'd, but is indeed the easiest) which

is; _What your Lordship thinks?_ I answer, _That you think I am your

Chaplain, when as indeed I am but the Cobler of Gloucester._ The

Nobleman was so pleas'd with his witty Answers, that he perform'd

his Promise to his Chaplain, and gave the Cobler Ten Guinneys for his

Ingenuity.

 

 

An aged Gentleman sore sick did lie, [51.]

Expecting life, that could not chuse but die:

His Foole came to him, and intreated thus.

Good Maister, ere you goe away from us,

Bestowe on _Jacke_ (that oft hath made you laffe)

Against he waxeth old, your Walking-Staffe,--

I will, (quoth he) goe take it, there it is:

But on condition, _Jacke_, which shall be this,

If thou doe meete with any while thou live,

More foole than thou, the Staffe thou shalt him give.

Maister, (sayd he) upon my life I will;

But I doe hope that I shall keepe it still.

When Death drew neere, and faintness did proceed,

His Maister called for a Devine with speed,

For to prepare him unto Heaven's way.

The Foole starts up, and hastily did say,

Oh Maister, Maister, take your Staffe againe,

That proove your selfe the most Foole of us twaine;

Have you now liv'd some foure-score yeares and odd,

And all this time, are unprepared for God:

What greater Foole can any meete withall,

Than one that's ready in the Grave to fall,

And is to seeke about his soules estate,

When Death is op'ning of the Prison Gate?

Beare Witnesse friends, that I discharge me plaine;

Heere Maister, heere, receive your Staffe againe:

Upon the same condition I did take it,

According as you will'd me, I forsake it:

And over and above, I will bestow,

This Epitaph, which shall your folly show.

_Heere lyes a man, at death did Heaven clayme_,

_But in his life, he never sought the same_.

 

 

[26.] A Lady in this Kingdom hearing that a Lady, that was a Person of

Quality, did much long for Oysters, she then sent a Foot-man of hers,

that was an _Irish_ Man, to the said Lady with a Barrel of Oysters,

and as he was going, he met an Arch Wag by the way, who askt him

whither he was going? Then he told him: "O. _Donniel_, says he, you

must gut them before you go, or else they will Poyson the Lady; I

Predde,[F. 102] says he, show me how to do it. So the Fellow took

them and opened them, and took out all the Oysters and put them into

a Wooden Dish that was by, and then put all the Shells again into

the Barrell: _Now_, says he, _you may carry them, for they are all

gutted_: _E. Fait_,[F. 103] said _Donniel_, _for this kindness, I'll

give thee a pint of Wine out of the Vails that I shall have of my

Lady_: but I know not how they were accepted.

 

[Footnote 102: Ay, prithee.]

 

[Footnote 103: I'faith.]

 

 

A man found his Wife [12.]

To be idle all her Life,

Then he beat her very sore;

I did nothing, says she,

I know it, says he,

Which makes me to beat you therefore.

 

 

[32.] What is that no man would have, and yet when he hath it, will

not forgoe it?

 

_Solution._ It is a broken head, or such like, for no man would gladly

have a broken head, and yet when he hath it, he would be loth to loose

his head, though it be broken.

 

 

To be indebted is a shame men say [5.]

Then 'tis confessing of a shame to pay.

 

 

_On a certaine present sent from an Archbishop to his friend._

 

Mittitur in Disco, mihi Piscis ab Archiepisco [67.]

Po non ponetur, quia potum non mihi detur.

 

_Englished thus._

 

There was in a dish, sent me a fish, from an Arch bish

Hop I will not put heere, because hee sent me noe beere.

 

 

 

 

NEWES FROM _MORE-LANE_.

 

or

 

A mad, knavish, and uncivil Frolick of a Tapster dwelling there, who

buying a fat Coult for Eighteen pence, the Mare being dead and he not

knowing how to bring the Coult up by hand, killed it, and had it

baked in a Pastie, and invited many of his Neighbours to the Feast and

telling of them what it was: the Conceit thereof made them all Sick,

as by the following ditty you shall hear.

 

The Tapster fil'd the Cup up to the brim,

And all to make the little Coult to swim;

But all that heares it sayes that for his gaine,

He is no better than a Wagg in graine.

 

 

The Tune is, _A Health to the best of Men_.

 

There is a Tapster in _More lane_ [68.]

that did a Pasty make,

All People doe of him complaine,

now for his grosse mistake:

Hee instead of Venson fine

a good fat Coult did kill,

And put in store of Clarret Wine,

his humour to fullfill.