The high and mightie commendation of the vertue of a pot of good ale full of wit without offence, of mirth without obscenities of pleasure without scurrilitie, and of good content without distaste : whereunto is added the valiant battell fought between the Norfolk Cock and the Wisbich Cock / written by Thomas Randall. Randolph, Thomas, 1605-1635. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A57985 of text R20718 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing R239A). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 15 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 5 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A57985 Wing R239A ESTC R20718 12680199 ocm 12680199 65628 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A57985) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 65628) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 252:E153, no 20) The high and mightie commendation of the vertue of a pot of good ale full of wit without offence, of mirth without obscenities of pleasure without scurrilitie, and of good content without distaste : whereunto is added the valiant battell fought between the Norfolk Cock and the Wisbich Cock / written by Thomas Randall. Randolph, Thomas, 1605-1635. Taylor, John, 1580-1653. Wild, Robert, 1609-1679. Valiant battell fought between the Norfolk Cock and the Wisbich Cock. [8] p. Printed for F. Cowles, T. Bates, and J. Wright, London : 1642. Illustrated t.p. In verse. Hazlitt considers Randall and Thomas Randolph the same person but B. M. lists them as two separate people. "This facetious piece was more probably by Taylor, the water poet" Cf. Hazlitt. Entered in Wing under Thomas Randolph. See, however, Randolph, Thomas, Poems ... ed. by G. Thorn-Drury, p. xxii. Where "The high and mightie" is not included as a poem of Randolph's. "The valiant battell ..." is by Robert Wild. Cf. Games and gamesters of the restoration (1930) pp. 112-114. Wing entry imprint reads "F. Coules." Reproduction of original in Thomason Collection, British Library. eng Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 17th century. A57985 R20718 (Wing R239A). civilwar no The high and mightie commendation of the vertue of a pot of good ale. Full of wit without offence, of mirth without obscenitie, of pleasure Randolph, Thomas 1642 2668 38 0 0 0 0 0 142 F The rate of 142 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the F category of texts with 100 or more defects per 10,000 words. 2003-08 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-09 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-10 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2003-10 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-12 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion The High and Mightie Comm●●●ation of the vertue of a Pot of Good Ale . Full of wit without offence , of mirth without obsceniti●● of pleasure without scurrilitie , and of good content without distaste . Whereunto is added the valiant battell fought betweene the Norfolk Cock and the Wisbich Cock . written by Thomas Randall . LONDON , Printed for F. Cowles , T. Bates , and I. Wright . MDCXLII . The High and Mightie C●●●●ndation of the the vertue o● 〈…〉 t of Good Ale . NOt drunken nor sober , ( but neighbour to both , I met with a friend in Alesberry Vale ; He saw by my face , that I was in the case , To speak no great harm of a Pot of good Ale . And as we did meet , and friendly did greet , He put put me in mind of the name of the Dale , That for Alesberries sake , some paines I would take , And not burie the praise of a pot of Good Ale . The more to procure me , then did he adjure me , ( If the Ale I drank last were nappie and stale ) To doe it ●s right , and stir up my sp●ight ▪ And fall to commend a pot of Good Ale . Quoth I , to commend it , I dare not begin , Lest therein my cunning might happen to faile , For many there be that count it a sin , But once to look towards a pot of God Ale . Yet I care not a pin , for I see no such sin , Nor any else that my courage may quaile : For this I do find , being taken in kind , Much vertue there is in a pot of Good Ale . When heavinesse the mind doth oppresse , And sorrow and griefe the heart doth assaile , No remedy quicker , but take up your liquour , And wash away care with a pot of Good Ale . the Priest and the Clark , whose sights are dark , And the print of the letter doth seeme ●oo small , T●ey will con every letter , and read Service better , If they glaze but their eyes with a pot of Good Ale . The Poet divine , that cannot reach wine , Because that his money doth oftentimes faile , Will hit on the veine , and reach the high straine , If he be but inspir'd with a pot of Good Ale . All Writers of Ballads , for such whose mishap From Newgate up Holbourne to Tyburne doe saile , Shall have sudden expression of all their confession , If the Muse be but dew'd with a pot of Good Ale . The Prisoner that is enclos'd in the grate , Will shake off remembrance of bondge and Iaile , Of hunger or cold , of fetters or fate , If he pickle himselfe with a pot of Good Ale . The Salamander Blacksmith that lives by the fire , Whilst his Bellowes are puffing a blustring gale , Will shake off his full Ka●● ▪ and sweare each true Vulcan will Hazzard his witts for a pot of good Ale . The woer that feareth his suit to begin . And Blushes , and simpers , and often looks pale ▪ Thogh he miss in his speech & his heart were at his breech If he Liquor his tongue with a pot of good Ale . The widdow , that buried her husband of late , Will soon have forgotten to weep and to waile : And think every day twaine , till she marry againe , If she read the contents of a pot of Good Ale . The Plow-man and Carter that toyles all the day , And tires himselfe quite at the Plough taile , Will speak no lesse things , than of Queenes and of Kings , If he do but make bold with a pot of Good Ale . And indeed it will make a man suddenly wise , Ere while was ( scarce able to tell a right tale , It will open his ●aw , he will tell you the Law , And straight be a Bencher with a pot of Good Ale . I doe further alledge , it is fortitudes edge , For a very Coward that shrinks like a Snaile , Will sweare and will swagger , and out goes his dagger , If he be but well 〈…〉 ' d with a pot of Good Ale . The naked man taketh no care for a coat , Nor on the cold weather will once turne his taile , All the way as he goes , cut the wind with ●is nose , If he be but wel lin'd with a pot of Good Ale . The hungrie man seldome can mind his meat , ( Though his stomack could brook a Ten penny Nail ) He qu●te forgets hunger , thinks of it no longer , If his guts be but sowr'd with a pot of Good Ale . T●e Reaper the Mower , the Thresher , the Sower , The one with his sithe , and the other with his flaile , Pull 'em out by the pole , on the perill of my sole , They will hold up their caps at a pot of Good Ale . The Beggar , whose portion is alwayes his prayer , Not having a tatter , to hang at his taile , Is as rich in his rags , as a Churle with his bags , If he be but enrich'd with a pot of Good Ale . It puts his povertie out of his mind , Forgetting his browne bread , his wallet , his maile , He walks in the house like a six footed Lowse , If he be but well drench'd with a pot of Good Ale . The Souldier , the Saylor , the true man , the Taylor , The Lawyer that sels words by weight and by tale , Take them all as they are , for the War or the Bar , They all will approve of a pot of Good Ale . The Church and Religion to love it have cause ( Or else our Fore-fathers their wisdomes did faile ) For at every mile , close at the Church stile , An house is ordain'd for a pot of Good Ale . And Physick will favour Ale ( as , it is bound ) And stand against Beere both tooth and naile , They send up and downe , all over the Towne , To get for their Patients a pot of good Ale . Your Ale-berries , Cawdles and Possets each one ▪ And Sullabubs made at the Milking pale ▪ Although they be many , Beere 〈◊〉 not in any But all are compos'd with a pot of Good Ale . And in very deed , the Hop 's but a weed , Brought o're against Law , and here set to sale : He that first brought the hop , had reward with a rope , And found that his Beere was bitter than Ale . The antient tales that my Grannam hath told Of the mirth she hath had in Parlour and Hall , How in Christmas time they would dance , sing and rime , As if they were mad , with a pot of good Ale . Beere is a stranger a Dutch Vpstart come , Whose credit with us somtimes is but small : But in the Records of the Empire of Rome , The old Catholike drink is a pot of Good Ale . To the praise of Gambinius , that old Brittish King , Who devis'd for his Nation ( by the Welch-mens tale ) Seventeene hundred yeares before Christ did spring , The happie invention of a pot of Good Ale . But he was a Pagan , and Ale then was rife ; But after Christ came , and bade us , All haile , Saint Ta●●● 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 peere in her life , Put awle Cally 〈…〉 , and excellent Ale . All Religions and Nations , their humours and fashions , Rich or Poore , Knave or Whoore , Dwarffish or Tall , Sheep or Shrew , I 'le avow , well I know all will bow , If they be but wel steep'd with a pot of Good Ale . O Ale , ab alen●●● , thou liquor of life , I wish that my mouth were as big as a Whale ; But then ' tw●re to little , to reach thy least title , That belongs ● the praise of a pot of Good Ale . Thus many a vertue to you I have shewed , And not any vice in all this long tale : But after the pot , there commeth a shot , And that is the blot of a pot of Good Ale , W●ll said my friend the blot I will beare , Y●u have done very well , it is time to strike sa●le ; Wee 'll have six pots more , though we dye on the score , To make all this good of a pot of Good Ale . The Combat of the Cocks . GOe you tame Gallants , you that have the name , And would accounted be Cocks of the Game , That have brave spurs to shew for 't and can crow , And count all dunghill breed that cannot shew Such painted plumes as yours ; that think 't no vice , With Cock-like lust to trad your Cockatrice : Th●ugh Peacocks , Wood-cocks , Weather-cocks you be , If y' are no fighting Cocks , y' are not for me : I of two feather'd Combatants will write , He that to th' life meanes to expresse the fight , Must make his ink o' th' bloud which they did spill , And from their dying wings borrow his quill . NO sooner were the doubtfull people set , The matches made , and all that would had bet , But straight the skilfull Iudges of the play , Bring forth their sharp heel'd Warriours , and they Were both in linnen bags , as if 't were meet ▪ Before they dy'd to have their winding-sheet . With that in th' pit they are put , and when they were Both on their feet , the Norfolk Chanticleere Looks stoutly at his ne're before seene foe , And like a Chalenger begins to crow , And shakes his wings , as if he would display His warlike colours , which were black and gray : Meane time the warie Wisbich walks , and breathes His active body , and in furie wreathes His comely creft , and often looking downe , He whets his angry beak upon the ground : With that they meet , not like that Coward breed Of Aesop , they can better fight than feed . They scorne the dunghill , 't is their only prize , To dig for pearle within each others eyes : They fight so long , that it was hard to know To the skilfull , whether they did fight no no ▪ Had not the bloud which dide the fatall floore Borne witnesse of it ; yet they fight the more , As if each wound were but a spur to prick Their furie forward : lightning's not more quick Nor red than were their eyes : 't was hard to know Whether it was bloud or anger made them so : And sure they had been out , had they not stood More safe by being fenced in by blood . Yet still they fight , but now ( alas ) at length , Although their courage be full tryed , their strength And bloud began to ebbe ; you that have seene A water-combat on the Sea , betweene Two roaring angrie boyling billowes , how They march , and meet , and dash their curled browes , Swell●ng like graves , as if they did intend To intomb each other , ere the quarrell end : But when the wind is downe , and blustring weather , They are made friends , and sweetly run together , May think these Champions such ; their combs grow low , And they that leapt even now , now scarce can goe : Their wings which lately at each blow they clapt ( As if they did applaud themselves ) how slapt . And having lost the advantage of the heele , Drunk with each others bloud , they onely reele . From either eyes such drops of bloud did fall , As if they wept them for their funerall . And yet they would faine fight , they come so neare , As if they meant into each others eare To whisper death ; and when they cannot rise , They lye and look blowes in each others eyes . But now the Tragick part after the fight , When Norfolk Cock had got the best of it , And Wisbich lay a dying , so that none , Th●ugh sober , but might venture seven to one , Contracting ( like a dying Taper ) all His force , as meaning with that blow to fall ; He struggles up , and having ta●en wind , Ventures a blow , and strikes the other blind . And now poore Norfolk having lost his eyes , Fights only guided by the Antipathies : With him ( alas ) the Proverb holds not true ; The blowes his eyes ne're see , his heart most rue . At length by cha●ce , he stumbling on his foe , Not having any power to strike a blow , He fals upon him with a wounded head , And makes his conquer'd wings his feather-bed : Where lying sick , his friends were verie charie Of him , and fetcht in haste an Apothecarie ; But all in vaine , his body did so blister , That it was uncapable of any glister , Wherefore at length opening his fainting bill , He call'd a Scrivener , and thus made his will . INprimis , Let it never be forgot , My b●dy freely I bequeath to th' pot , Decently to be boyl'd , and for its tomb , Let it be buried in some hungry womb . Item ▪ Exe●utors I will have none , But he that on my side layd seven to one : And like a Gentleman that he may live , To him and to his heires my comb I give ; Together with my braines , that all may know , That often times his braines did use to crow . Item , It is my will , to the weaker ones , Whose wives complaine of them , I give my stones ; To him that 's dull , I do my spurs impart , And to the Coward I bequeath my heart : To Ladies that are light , it is my will , My feathers should be given ; and for my bill , I 'de give 't a Taylor , but it is so short , That I 'm afraid hee 'll rather curse me for 't : And for the Apothecaries see , who meant , To give me a glister , let my rump be sent . Lastly , because I feele my life decay . I yeeld , and give to Wisbich Cock the day . FINIS .