GOOD NEWS and BAD NEWS.  
By S. R.  
LONDON, Printed for Henry Bell, and are to be sold at his Shop within the Hospital gate in Smithfield. 1622.   

To the Reader.  

AS oftentimes as friend his friend doth meet,  
And with salute each other kindly greet,  
The second speech that commonly they use  
Is to inquire strait, Pray what Good news?  
The ear for novelties still harkens out  
After the tales which tongues do spread about,  
And many a one most wicked doth device,  
To feed the world, with false deluding lies;  
Because men are so apt for to inquire,  
And after rumours have so great desire:  
But here's no imitation of such men,  
Good news, and bad, presented by a pen,  
That to your view such humours doth present,  
As by the good you may the bad prevent:  
here's choice and change of both sorts to be had▪  
Full of variety, Good news, and Bad.   
S. R.   

An Epigram, upon a jest of Will Summer.  

WILL SUMMER, once unto King Harry came,  
And in a serious show himself did frame  
To go to London, taking of his leave,  
Stay William, (quoth the King) I do perceive  
You are in haste, but tell me your occasion,  
Let me prevail thus, by a friend's persuasion:  
Quoth he if thou wilt know, I'll tell thee, Marry  
I go to London for Court news old Harry.  
Goest thither from the Court, to hear Court-news?  
This is a trick Summer, that makes me muse;  
Oh yes (quoth William) Citizens can show  
What's done in Court ere thou or I do know.  
If an Ambassador be coming over,  
Before he do arrive and land at Dover,  
They know his Master's message and intent  
Ere thou canst tell the cause why he is sent.  
If of a Parliament they do but hear,  
They know what laws shall be enacted there:  
And therefore for a while, adieu Whitehall,  
Harry, I'll bring thee news home, lies and all.    

To Make-tale and Carry-tale.  

IT were good news to any honest mind,  
That we could such a reformation find  
Amongst our wand'ring wits and giddy brains,  
That they would cease their sottish idle veins  
Of intermeddling (as they daily do)  
With things their calling hath no claim unto.  
Gross ignorance presumptuously will prate  
Of serious matters that concern a State,  
Dull understanding never heeds his own,  
But other men's affairs, that must be known,  
Blockish-conceit, will boldly take in hand,  
That he Church government doth understand  
To want (what he hath need of) Reformation,  
And this is grown to such a graceless fashion,  
That we the common custom may forbear  
Used when men meet, What's the good news you hear?  
And to another question may proceed,  
What lies abroad? and than y'are sure to speed.  
You shall have them by whole sale quickly vented,  
'tis wondrous strange how people are contented  
To have themselves deluded in this sort,  
By every flying feigned false report;  
How itching ears do entertain all stuff,  
If it be named News 'tis good enough.  
One says a traveller (a friend of his)  
Is new come home, and he hath told him this.  
Another says as he in Paul's did walk,  
He heard the news whereof two Knights did talk:  
Another he hath news is very rare,  
And heard it sitting in a Barber's chair:  
Another he is furnished very strange,  
With news new taken up at the Exchange.  
And thus about from man to man it flies,  
Was never such an age for telling lies.  
Make-tale, and Carry-tale, a work are set,  
Father of lies hath caught them in his net,  
They are his own and he emploies them still,  
And so I leave them to his cursed will.  
The good News and the Bad, that here is told,  
Both take foundation on a better hold,  
For when this book is over read by you,  
I'll lay the price, you will confess 'tis true.    

Good News.  
A Wealthy Citizen that died of late,  
Did leave his wife a very great estate,  
Summed up in Thousands to her hearts content:  
All sorts of suitors to this widow went;  
As Courtiers, Lawyers, Citizens, Divines:  
But she unto a Gallant Knight inclines,  
And would be Madamed, Worshipped, Ladifide,  
And in the Leather-carted fashion ride.  
The match was made, the marriage consummate,  
Her Ladyship was graced, in pomp and state,  
With all content unto her hearts desire,  
So bravely proud, that all her friends admire.  
Their old acquaintance quite aside was laid,  
Her worship highly scorned shopkeeping trade:  
Friends, kinsfolks, neighbours, are inferior all,  
She much disdains, What lack ye, at a stall.   

Bad News.  
FIe upon giddy Fortune, and her wheel,  
Unconstant, and as slippery as an Ecle:  
From Kitchenmaid, to Mistress she arose,  
From mistress unto Madam, ●p she goes:  
And there a year or two ●●s Lady swagger,  
Then turns about, and sends her down to beggar▪  
Her dearest Knight (whom so she just may call)  
What with his debts, and what with Have at all,  
Lay hidden like a savage in his den,  
For fear of Bailiffs, Sergeants, Marshal's men:  
And she doth on her Virginals complain,  
I wail in woe, my Knight doth plunge in pain.   

Good News.  
A Usurer met late with a Divine,  
At a friend's house, where they together dine,  
And entering good discourse, the Preacher took  
Occasion to condemn out of God's book,  
The sinful trade that money-mongers use,  
Beginning with God's Law unto the jews;  
And so throughout all ages, how the best  
Of holy men did usury detest:  
And that there never any Saint hath been,  
Would venture soul upon that wicked sin.  
The Usurer that heard his zealous speech,  
Repent, and God's mercy did beseech;  
In his defence not knowing what to say,  
But free confessed his heart had gone astray:  
And from that day would restitution make,  
And ten i'th' Hundred utterly forsake:  
To Hospitals most liberal he would give,  
To prisoners, that in misery do live.  
Almshouses for the poor he will have made,  
And repair Churches, ruinous decayed:  
High ways and bridges he would likewise mend,  
And bountiful benevolence extend  
To schools of learning, yea would thousands give  
To pious use, while he had time to live.  
And so detesting damned usury,  
Learn every day unto the world to die.   

Bad News.  
AFter he did this godly motion choose,  
He walking home, where sitting in a muse,  
His man comes in, and to him sadly spoke,  
Sir, he you sent me to this morning's broke.  
he's gone for Ireland the Neighbours say,  
And what he owes never intends to pay.  
Another of his servants cometh in,  
And tells him as bad news where he had been:  
One that should pay five hundred pounds together▪  
Had taken Ludgate, and was new gone thither.  
Now out upon them Villains both, he said,  
Is this a world t'have restitution made?  
Give unto Hospitals that will for me,  
And tarry Knaves in prison where you be.  
Build Almshouses, you that have mind thereto,  
I with my coin have somewhat else to do.  
Mend Bridges, you that over bridges goes,  
For you shall make no bridge (friends) of my nose.  
And for your Churches with decayed wall,  
Get Briefs and beg, or let your Churches fall.  
Mine own's mine own, upon myself to spend;  
I'll trust to none, Gold's my assured friend.   

Good News.  
LAdy, thou shalt not lack while I have land,  
Money we will have ready at command.  
The wealthy Citizen is my Casseere,  
The fool has money, and I'll sell him dear.  
How brave I sold the Farm a month ago,  
Oh that I had good store to utter so.  
This ready money gives a man content,  
For Tenants come but lingering in with Rent:  
When I for Hundreds have a present use,  
And ask to borrow, strait there's an excuse,  
I cannot sir, I have it not to spare,  
It makes me scorn fellows that are so bare:  
I'll have my purse with money furnished still,  
Sell Meadow, pasture, arable, I will;  
And so be ready for to make supply,  
Gentilities best ornaments to buy.  
we'll have a Coach, like Chariot of the Sun,  
With haughty Horses, for our jades be done.  
New Suits for thee and I, at least some ten  
New Liveries for all our Servingmen.  
And thus to credit Madam we'll ascend,  
That vulgar sort our worships may commend.   

Bad News.  
SIr Nimble-touch makes his possessions fly,  
And on his ready money doth rely:  
he'll be admired for bravery, out of hand,  
And where his father left him spacious land,  
A journey to him, for to walk about,  
He by a nimble policy found out,  
To shorten tedious steps o'er bridge and style,  
And bring his land in compass of a mile.  
A pretty walk to give himself content,  
And save much trouble in receiving rent.  
But now his worship hath much charged been  
With laying out, having no coming in,  
And finds most true what he before did say,  
That ready money ever will away.  
Now land is sold, and money gone in goods,  
He calls out, Andrew, I am in the suds;  
I had good tenements, I had fair land,  
But of that suit, others have cleared my hand.  
And I am left A melancholy Knight,  
As Ploydon said, The case is altered quite:  
What remedy 'gainst Fortune's raging fits,  
But live like other lacke-lands, by my wits?   

Good News.  
TWo canting rogues, that old consorts had been,  
And cage, and stocks, met often kindly in:  
That had been sharers long and many a day  
Of what they got upon the common way,  
Did accidental at an alehouse meet,  
And in this manner one another greet;  
What Roger, well met rogue, old fellow beggar,  
When did we two like boon companions swagger,  
As we have done, thou know'st in youthful prime,  
How dost thou thrive mad slave this farthing time?  
This copper age, what, come they roundly in?  
Yes faith, the trade hath never better been.  
Pence, and few givers we had heretofore,  
But farthings now, and givers there's good store,  
Men, Women, servants, Children, all are able,  
I tell thee fellow, this is comfortable.  
There's never a day that I abroad do roam,  
But I bring copper like a Tinker home.  
Knock for Tobacco, call for ale, hang sorrow,  
God blesse you Master, will bring more tomorrow.   

Bad News.  
THus at their ale, and pipe of smother sitting,  
And boasting each to other of their getting,  
Within short time they plied the liquor so,  
As drunk as beggars both, they could not go,  
And fell to quarrel of old matters done  
When they their begging partnership begun;  
Thou cheatest me once of twenty pence quoth one,  
Unto thy conscience it is plainly known:  
I cheat (quoth he) thou liest in thy throat,  
Thy company hath cost me many a groat:  
Thou canst not say that I have cut a purse,  
Thou hast broke into houses, and done worse,  
Stolen sheets from hedges, broke up doors by night  
And deserved hanging, if thou hadst thy right.  
With that together by the ears they fall,  
The Constable on other side the wall  
Was drinking with a friend, and for aid knocks,  
To carry drunken beggars to the stocks;  
From thence he sent them to another coast,  
And made their passport from the whipping post.   

Good News.  
A Shepherd sitting on a pleasant bank,  
In Summer Sunshine where the grass grew rank,  
And nature's paintments, red, and yellow, blue,  
With colours plenty round about him grew,  
Espied at sea a gallant ship did sail  
With calm, and mild, and favourable gale.  
Oh (quoth the shepherd) what a pleasant thing,  
To see a vessel with a canvas wing  
Glide on the waters, fly upon the floods,  
And coast from place to place, with man and goods:  
I'll be no longer land-man on this hill,  
But I'll to sea, let him keep sheep that will.  
So selling all his cattles at good rates,  
Turns merchant, fraughts a bark with figs and dates.  
Buys pen-worths, better not in seven year,  
And understands where he may sell goods dear.  
So taking leave with friends he vowed and swore,  
He was a fool to stay so long a shore.   

Bad News.  
IMagine now our shepherd's under sail,  
Where raging storms, and tempests so prevail,  
The ship, with all the goods is cast away,  
And the young merchant beggared in a day,  
Comes poorly home, from Neptune's raging deep,  
And takes his trade again, of keeping sheep;  
And sitting pensive on the grassy shore,  
He spied a ship came sailing as before,  
In mild calm weather on a sunshine-day,  
Whereat he shaken his head, and thus did say,  
I once had wealth, and got an honest gain,  
In my content of calling taking pain:  
My flocks did prosper, and myself did thrive,  
Till such a flattering show did make me strive  
To get sea fortunes, which I now repent,  
That had enough▪ and could not live content,  
But God bless all Masters and Masters mates,  
And farewell ship, I'll deal no more with Dates.   

Good News.  
AN ancient bachelor did long forbear  
Because of household charge he stood in fear;  
And would not marry, till he heard of one  
Was stored with money, but of children none,  
Good huswife, and most sparing of her purse,  
She should be his, For better, and for worse.  
Thus looking out, and searching with a care,  
To have a wealthy match unto his share,  
At length upon a wench he chanced to light,  
Childless, and rich, unto his humour right,  
As greedy as himself being wholly bend,  
And here's a match unto his hearts content:  
He doth rejoice and boast amongst his friends,  
That his good fortunes to such height extends,  
For such a complete wife, from head to foot,  
He would not change for thousands given to boot.  
And thus with joy he doth embrace his Bride,  
Holding himself risen upon right side,  
That he had grace so luckily to choose,  
Oh joyful happy admirable news.  
You bachelors, beware take heed (he said)  
Let no young man run rashly on a maid:  
they're proud and poor, and must be long a wooing,  
Then prove bad huswives to a man's undoing.  
But take a widow to augment thy state,  
That hath good leases, household stuff and plate,  
Gold, linen, woollen, pewter, and good brass,  
And welcome widow, Tut a maids an ass.   

Bad News.  
THe bachelor, (after his wooing pains)  
Maries the widow with her golden gains,  
And live together loving man and wife,  
Some fortnight after ere they fell to strife.  
But two weeks past grew such a stormy shower,  
He never saw calm weather till this hour.  
His name of john is turned into back,  
She tells him, that her money clothes his back:  
And that he was a needy rascal knave,  
And she hath made a man of such a slave.  
Her words (last week) of love, sweet heart, and joy,  
Are turned to villain, rogue, and beardless boy,  
And tells him further that it is her shame,  
That she hath graced him with a husband's name,  
Being unworthy wretch to wipe her shoes:  
Friends this is bad, and yet we have worse news;  
For 'tis too true (as all the neighbours knows)  
From railing words she falls to swaggering blows,  
And scratched his face, in fury broke his head,  
Yea in her choler kicked him out of bed.  
He shall not walk before her in the streets,  
Nor meet with her between a pair of sheets.  
She is his better, many a degree,  
And vows her best bags he shall never see.  
here's a brave match for money, is it not?  
This bachelor hath a rich widow got.  
But he doth wish, in grief and anguish panged,  
That he were buried, or his wife were hanged.  
And now a maid, as poor as poor may be,  
Is worth ten thousand widows, such as she.   

Good News.  
WHen country Nanne, the milkemaid-lasses left,  
She came to London very neat and deft,  
To seek preferment, and her fortunes raise,  
Being indeed (as all the parish says)  
A handsome wench and likely to do well,  
If with a London Mistress she might dwell,  
Even according to her hearts content  
Into a right good service Annis went:  
As good a Mistress as she could desire,  
And as good wages as she did require.  
After she two year's kitchen maid had served,  
So well by her good carriage she deserved,  
That to be chamber maid she did ascend,  
And therewithal her wages much did mend,  
Now like a Gentlewoman she doth go,  
And country maids admire to see her so,  
Telling their friends, with all the speed they can,  
They will be Londoners like Mistress Anne.   

Bad News.  
HEigh ho, bad news as ever came to town,  
From London to the countries carried down;  
Alas poor wench, a scurvy serving man  
Has (out upon him) been with country Nan,  
And given her such a knavish overthrow,  
She is as big as ever she can go:  
The case is altered, 'twill no more be said,  
There goes the kitchen or the chamber maid;  
But this is she changed (the world knows how)  
From maid that was to be a servant now.  
And that same wicked fellow that did this,  
Doth vow and swear the Child is none of his,  
But sets it light, and makes thereof a scoff,  
And thinks in Knavery thus to bob her off:  
But he'll be talked withal ere one month ends,  
For the poor wench hath sent for all her friends,  
And then it will be proved plain, at lagre  
That he's the man must bear the Nursing charge.  
Since Nan's Virginity past help is lost,  
They'll teach him what a maidenhead will cost,  
What law will do he shall be sure to find,  
Because he bears such baseness in his mind.  
Mean while, be it a daughter or a son,  
No remedy, it is so lately done.  
Nan's Master and her Mistress both abhor it,  
But what says she? They cannot hang her for it.   

Good News.  
GOod news is come for Goodman Groutnols' son,  
His wretched father with the world hath done:  
Dead as a dog that lieth in a ditch.  
And now the youth means to go through stitch,  
And be a gallant in his golden days,  
His father was a simple man he says:  
For though he gathered store of worldly pelf,  
Why yet he did not understand himself,  
He was for profit evermore prepared,  
But for Gentility he never cared.  
A plain blunt fellow still a plodding an,  
But Christopher will be another man.  
He will not have his arms a month to seek,  
For he hath been with Heralds but last week,  
And will have something for himself to show,  
Although it be a Cuckoo or a Crow:  
Nay, and perhaps (if all things fall out right)  
He may before he goes to grave, turn Knight,  
But he will make no boasting, let that rest,  
Kit will be ever jovial as the best▪  
His father was a good old man he says,  
And for his death, he gives God hearty praise.   

Bad News.  
NOw for the city is young Groutnoll bound,  
Where humours for to grace him may be found:  
Fr●st he must learn to dance, and dance he will,  
Then to the noble science for some skill,  
If any roaring boy should chance to swagger,  
And challenge him at rapier and at dagger,  
In Taverns then his credit must appeate,  
Where still his purse doth all the reckoning clear,  
Dinners and suppers, drunken healths to any,  
He doth discharge the bills unto a penny,  
To sharks, that are his daily feasting friends  
He gives, maintains, and what they'll borrow lends  
Falls in with cheaters that can cog a Die,  
And still his open purse lets money fly:  
And thus he revel's it still spending on,  
As if he were in haste, to see all gone,  
Which by his lavish hand, being brought to pass,  
His consorts censure him an idle ass,  
A gull that suffered all men to deceive him,  
And so unto the Counter-hole they leave him.   

Good News.  
Friend's I protest by my Gentility,  
Your city's full of rare civility:  
Where I have been most bravely used of late,  
By worthy citizens, as I'll relate:  
Since my arrival out of foreign parts,  
In measure, fare beyond my poor deserts,  
I cannot pass through any street or lane  
But barehead courtesy doth entertain  
My worship with what lack you, wondrous kind:  
And credit with all sorts of trades I find,  
My word for wares they never yet forsook,  
But take my hand familiar to their book.  
I go myself, or send by any token,  
'Tis ready ere the message be half spoken,  
Much in commodities I could proceed,  
More than my use hath any cause to need,  
Therefore I'll try my further credit rather  
With ten ith'hundred, that old penny father;  
To shop-mens' books my hand no more will deal,  
I am for Scriveners now, with hand and seal.   

Bad News.  
WHat hungry fellows doth the city breed?  
That will not spare a Gentleman in's need,  
But even by mere extremities do strive,  
And gape as they would eat a man alive:  
My London lodgings are all haunted so  
With wicked spirits, that I am fain to go  
Into the Suburbs, there to seek some charm,  
That may secure me from the catchpoles harm;  
And there by chance I met with a conceit,  
Which in my mind I daily must repeat.  
All Grocer's spice you freely may embrace,  
Only take heed you touch not of the Mace,  
Nor is it for your freedom's ease and good  
To walk the street, that's called by name of Wood,  
Poultry refrain, for that's a meat will binde-you,  
And of all seekers, let not Sarieants find you:  
Keep back your feet from their Encountering ways,  
For they'll salute you with a frightful phrase  
As, Gentleman, at such a suit I rest you,  
This vexing word will very much molest you.   

Good News.  
GOod luck's, good news a man would think it were,  
And here's a tale of good-luck you shall hear,  
One had a Legacy of forty pound  
Which came in clear, as if 'twere money found:  
This he employs in diverse kind of things,  
Which benefit unto the buyer brings.  
For all he bought it was exceeding cheap,  
Double and triple profit he did reap;  
A horse, for which he did but five pound pay  
Was sold for fifteen, ready coin, next day.  
Suits of apparel, cloaks, and store of plate,  
Great pennyworths and at an easy rate;  
Pawns came in plenty, upon bills of sale  
Made lawful purchase, if the payday fail.  
Thus in short time beginning with a gift  
Of forty pound, he made such shuffling shift,  
He was a man of hundreds in account,  
And did in terms of credit so amount,  
Within the parish he a great sway bore,  
Which made them wonder, knew him base before;  
That in so short a time, wealth flowed so fast,  
And beggar got on horseback in such haste.   

Bad News.  
THe speech is true, Experience proves no less,  
That goods ill gotten meet with ill success;  
Where God doth bless, happy abundance springs,  
And greatness grows, of many little things:  
But whereas wealth by wicked means is bred,  
A curse will fall upon the getters head.  
For all the bargains that this wretch had made,  
Was out of thieving, and of broker's trade:  
Stolen goods were sold unto him at best hand,  
Upon dear price his chapmen did not stand,  
Because it cost them only but the taking,  
And it is termed cloak, cup, or linen making:  
I made (says one) this ruff, this sword, this hat,  
So what the Broker bought, the thiefs made that.  
But after this same making comes a marring:  
The proverb says, when thiefs do fall to jarring,  
By that means true-men do regain their own,  
And this is often manifestly known:  
Contention comes, and that so overswaies them,  
The Devil owes a shame, and then he pays them.   

Good News.  
FRom Neptune's rough encountering dreadful deep▪  
And Aeolus, that stormy coil doth keep:  
With furious blasts amids the liquid waves,  
Making the waters winding sheets and graves:  
A Merchant did in safety retire,  
And brought home goods, which to his hearts desire  
He sold for profit, and for ready pay:  
But in the time that he had been away,  
He found, (to his exceeding chiefest joy)  
His wife delivered of a gallant boy.  
Which never in her life had child before,  
This did enlarge his gladsome heart the more,  
To find his fortunes were so fair and good,  
As first escape the Ocean's raging flood:  
With extreme hazard of his goods and life,  
And then receive such welcome from his wife;  
As husband, here behold your master-prize,  
This little boy that hath thine own grey eyes:  
Unto it, let thy kindest love be shown,  
For on my credit (Sweetheart) 'tis thine own.   

Bad News.  
THis gladsome father, and rejoicing mother  
With much contentment do enjoy each other:  
Their little one doth such affection seal,  
And every hurt of their distaste doth heal,  
Nor thought, nor word, nor deed did pass between  
The parents, not a cloudy look was seen,  
Until a gossip of the gaggling crew  
Into a humour of contention grew  
With her familiar friend, the merchant's wife,  
Revenging of her quarrel with their strife.  
And told the husband she did greatly doubt  
That▪ he was mighty wronged, (if truth came out)  
I will not (quoth she) for a thousand pound  
A makebate 'twixt a man an's wife be found:  
But I know somewhat that would breed a scab,  
Yet pardon me I never was a blab,  
We know that little said is soon amended,  
The blind eats many a fly, what's past is ended,  
These quenish terms such jealousy allured,  
He grew horn mad, and still remains uncured.   

Good News.  
A Hasty fellow of a froward nature,  
Was married to a mild and gentle creature,  
Which was most willing to content him still;  
But he of disposition was so ill,  
With every trifle he a fault would find,  
Which made his wife entreat him very kind,  
That he in writing would his mind explain,  
What things she should perform, and what refrain:  
He was content, and writ his wife a book,  
And bade her often thereupon to look,  
For in the same he plainly had expressed  
What she should practise to content him best:  
And matters that displeased him to omit,  
She very kindly gave him thankes for it,  
Vowing she would a willing scholar be  
To learn those lessons did with peace agree,  
Which she in memory would still retain,  
And cross the devil in his makebate vein:  
All stormy tempests shall be mildly laid,  
I'll please my husband now by book she said.   

Bad News.  
THe world being now a little better mended,  
To walk and see a friend they both intended,  
Some two mile out of town, and merry make,  
So frolic, till the husband's cap did ache,  
And he must needs (at evening somewhat late)  
Return home reeling with a drunken pate:  
No friends persuasions could with him prevail  
To sleep away the headache of the ale,  
But home quoth he, come wise, we're homeward bound,  
I like old Harry, mean to stand my ground,  
And so along goes drunkard, thorough stitch,  
Until he came unto a scurvy ditch:  
Into the same down from the bridge he falls,  
And then, help wife, a hand sweet wife he calls,  
Husband (quoth she) to help forth ditch or brook,  
As I remember is not in my book,  
And therefore first I will go home and see  
Before you get a helping hand of me;  
If it be written I shall lend a lift,  
I'll do it willing, else yourself shall shift.   

Good News.  
A Suitor, that a wealthy widow plied,  
To grace out his bad fortunes did provide  
Upon his credit, for an outward show,  
That gallantly he might a wooing go,  
His hat new blocked, and golden banded too,  
His Ruff he wore like some Sir reverence do:  
His suit the Tailor trusted him withal;  
For sword and russet boots, he in did fall  
With Cutler, and the gentle craft: Beside  
He had a gallant gelding to bestride,  
That graced his worship above all the rest,  
Esteemed to be a twenty pounds-worth beast;  
And all that was his carcase outward case,  
(Except his bodkin beard and naked face)  
Were freely come to hand, by Best-be-trust,  
His bravery might be compared just  
Unto the bird trimmed up in th'ancient tale,  
Had each their plumes, then naked as my nail  
Well, to the widow now we let him ride,  
And bid him welcome home on other side▪   

Bad News.  
BEing arrived at his wished port,  
He doth begin, most eloquent to court,  
And makes account by inkhorn terms to get  
One to maintain him, and discharge his debt,  
But she's a wench hath wit to hold him to't,  
And overthrows her lover horse and foot,  
Telling him that herself, and her estate  
Is not to be obtained with verbal prate  
Of love, and fancy, by the gods decreed▪  
Therefore bestow it pray on some that need:  
I have a friend whose love and faith I know,  
Y'are welcome sir, there's all I can bestow.  
With that she leaves him and departs away;  
Surely (quoth he) this is no wooing day,  
Some scurvy Planet is become my foe,  
That at the first I should have this cross blow:  
Well, I will try another widow yet,  
And if no better comfort I do get,  
In spite of Fortune, (look she ne'er so grim)  
My horse I'll rifle, though I borrowed him.   

Good News.  
FOrtune was constant in unconstancy,  
The second widow gave him the deny,  
More scornful and disgraceful than the first,  
Which made the wooer swear he was accursed  
To venture all the credit that he had,  
And be so bravely to the fashion clad:  
Yet still rejected, being a proper man,  
(Though good for nothing) did resolve him than  
To have a rifling for his borrowed beast,  
And get some twenty pound by th'hand at lest,  
Retires to London, singles out an Inn,  
Invites all his acquaintance, friends and kin,  
That of all love's they would on such a day  
Be sure to meet him, without all delay,  
He had a Gelding cost him fifty pound,  
A braver beast did never pace on ground;  
And he should spoil him being too too free,  
A most rank rider, (as brave gallants be)  
And therefore he was willing to forgoe-him,  
And even amongst their fortunes to bestow-him.   

Bad News.  
THe rifling time being come that he had set,  
His friends according to their promise met,  
A great assembly, a good supper made,  
And every one his ventured money paid,  
To his content: thought he, why here's good doing:  
Why this is better fare than scurvy wooing,  
Betoyled about a wife, and cannot get her,  
Widows be hanged, for I like horse flesh better.  
But see the mischief fortune's spite did bring,  
To make his rifling a mere trifling thing:  
No sooner they to throw the dice begin,  
But comes the owner with a Sergeant in;  
And claims the gelding which was at the stake,  
This did amongst them an amazement make,  
For every man his money back did claim,  
Which was returned with a cheating shame;  
Oh scurvy world, quoth he, how cross things goes,  
The next will be the Tailor, for my clothes:  
My wooing overthrown, my horse play marred,  
As I am Gentleman, this nips me hard.   

EPIGRAM.  
TWo that had been aboard a Bordeaux bark,  
Came reeling thorough Ratcliff in the dark,  
And to secure them from all stumbling harm  
They linked together loving arm in arm;  
But as they came along the gravel pit,  
The one of them got such a reeling fit,  
That from his fellow down the bank he fell,  
And lying on his back, cried, hay da Nell:  
Why here's a town is e'en well governed right,  
Keep open seller doors this time a night?  
Where art thou Robin, to his fellow calling?  
Who up the bank, thorough the dirt was crawling.  
Marry (quoth he) I knock and call for beer,  
And there is not a rogue will answer here,  
Therefore as true as this good light doth shine  
I am a climbing to pull down their sign:  
And I am searching all the seller here,  
To find the taps and let out all the beer,  
The knaves shall know they have not used us well,  
Why here's a town brave governed, hay da Nell.   

Epigram.  
A Ruin'd gallant, in's declining age,  
Calling his life in question, in a rage  
Did vow, and swear, and to himself protest,  
He was a villain, slave, a brutish beast:  
Such Sunshine fortunes as his days had known,  
And might have free enjoyed them as his own,  
To let them pass with Time, and glide away,  
And no sure hold upon good hap to lay,  
I might have had a widow once (quoth he)  
That would have made at least a Knight of me,  
And like a gull, a whoreson coxcomb ass,  
Unto another fool I let her pass:  
I might have had an office, that would clear  
Have brought me in two hundred pound a year▪  
And lived at ease, gone up and down to brave it;  
But like a goose, I let another have it:  
I might have had good land to live upon,  
But like a Woodcock all is sold, and gone:  
I might have been a scholar, learned my Grammar,  
But I have lost all like a Ninnyhammer.   

Epigram.  
EXperience out of observation says,  
Six sorts of people keep their fasting days,  
Which if you will in order have them known,  
Then thus they are distinguished every one.  
The sick man fasts because he cannot eat,  
The poor man fasts because he wanteth meat,  
The miser fasts, with greedy mind to spare,  
The glutton fasts, to eat a greater share;  
The Hypocrite, he fasts to seem more holy,  
The virtuous man to punish sinful folly:  
But at all these, the drunkard in his quaffing,  
In scoffing manner doth deride them laughing,  
And says, I am for none of all these six,  
Fast they, or feed, I am for drinking tricks:  
With Pipe and Pint, I entertain my diet,  
Sack and Tobacco, keeps my stomach quiet;  
I do not care for over-cloying dishes,  
So that I may attain to these two wishes,  
The Vintner still to draw me of the best,  
And when the reckoning comes, why let that rest.   

Epigram.  
HOw am I vexed, that must keep in a door,  
Only for fear to pay a Tapster's score!  
A slave that's bound in conscience to forbear,  
For I have graced his house in lying there:  
But I have vowed revenge, the villain dies,  
Only my weapon at the Cutler's lies,  
And I do linger to redeem it thence:  
Beer and Tobacco is my most expense,  
A lousy lodging and a scurvy diet,  
And this it is, which puts me out of quiet.  
It is against my conscience for to pay him,  
I can show reason why I do delay him.  
My diet, ever over-rost, or raw,  
My cans were always nic'kt against the law,  
My washing and my wringing was but base,  
And I count all worth nothing, here's the case,  
Yet there be Sergeants wait me for arrest,  
Encountering fellows, which ●id di●gest,  
Oh that another mad horse there would be,  
To catch the Sergeant would be catching me.   

Epigram.  
GIlbert, this glove I send thee from my hand,  
And challenge thee to meet on Calais sand,  
On this day month resolve I will be there,  
Where thou shalt find my flesh I will not fear.  
My Cutler is at work both day and night,  
To make the sword wherewith I mean to fight:  
If I do fail thee, at the time and place,  
Account me to descend of coward's race;  
If thou neglect, and do not meet me then,  
I'll make thee odious unto Martial men.  
This challenge past, the challenger at Dover,  
Imbarks for Calais, and being half way over,  
Grew mighty sea-sick, and did back retire,  
Having by vomit purged out all his Ire:  
Oh wretch (quoth he) to quarrel most accursed,  
My heart doth faint, my very gall doth burst.  
I was a villain to intent this fight;  
But if I do escape this fearful flight,  
Unto the field a farewell I will give,  
And ne'er draw sword in anger while I live.   

Epigram.  
A Pocket-picker most exceeding brave  
(For true men's purses did maintain the knave)  
In suit of Satin, cloak with Velvet lin'de,  
His golden hatband, guilded rapier shined,  
His russet boots, and spurs, in all complete,  
Which he maintained, by pilfering theft, and cheat;  
Being at assizes in a country town,  
And standing near a silly simple clown,  
With bold audacious, and outfacing look  
The rustics purse out of his pocket took,  
Who very fearful of his furious show,  
Shrunk back amongst the throng and let him go.  
Within a little space a cry was made,  
A cutpurse, cutpurse, all the people said,  
When he that lost his purse the noise did hear,  
He thronged among the crowd and got him near,  
And said (when he perceived proofs made duly)  
My Lords, his Worship had my purse too, truly.  
They smiling said, In sign that we abhor it,  
we'll be so bold as hang his worship for it.   

Epigram.  
A Fellow that had been excessive trading,  
In taking liquor in beyond his lading,  
Of Claret, and the Spanish Malligo,  
That's legs unable were upright to go;  
But sometime wall, and sometime kennel taking,  
And as the phrase is used, Indentures making;  
Was met with by a most unhappy boy,  
That at the drunkard's sight did greatly joy,  
To put a jest upon the reeling mome,  
Having a birding piece to carry home:  
He with the same doth thus begin his jest,  
Presenteth it against the drunkard's breast,  
And levels at him, making fire fly,  
The drunkard loud, did murder, murder, cry;  
Oh cruel rogue, and bloody slave quoth he▪  
Help, help, this villain means to murder me;  
Sir (quoth the boy) you greatly do mistake,  
This needless clamour, and outcries to make,  
I do protest I mean yourself no harm,  
I only shoot the fox under your arm.   

Epigram.  
WHen Hodge comes home, he'll tell his vather news  
Shall make the good old clown admire and muse;  
For he hath memory so able strong,  
Shall find him tales for all the winter long;  
He came not up in vain to London, no,  
Hodge hath seen that his father ne'er shall know  
Of wenching matters, but he'll keep that in  
And tell him other sights, where he hath been;  
As of the Tower, and the Lions there,  
Of Paris garden, and the Bull and Bear,  
Of Westminster, what monuments there be,  
And what two mighty Giants Hodge did see  
With fearful countenances in Guildhall,  
The old Exchange, the new Exchange and all.  
The water-works, huge Paul's, old Charing-cross,  
Strong London Bridge, at Billingsgate the Boss.  
Nay Hodge hath seen ships, boats, and barges, which  
Swim about London in a great large ditch,  
And he hath vowed he will not jog away,  
Tell he hath seen some pretty puppet play.   

Epigram.  
TOm Tempest fell at strife with Steven Storm,  
And feled him with a pintpot from a form,  
Storm roused himself, and fiercely did rebound,  
At cruel Tempest, with a stabbing wound;  
But it was done in a most coward kind,  
In his breech backward, where he breaketh wind;  
The Vintner (being of the separation)  
Comes in and lends his wisest exhortation,  
Tempest, and Storm (my windy brethren both)  
In sadness and in truth, without an oath,  
You are to blame to draw that Iron tool,  
And make my civil house a fencing school,  
This is the force of your excessive wine,  
I rather will take down my bush and sign,  
Then live by men of riotous expense;  
In peace I say, Brethren depart you hence.  
I will not take a penny for the shot,  
And furthermore, I'll melt that bloody pot,  
Which is polluted thus with sanguine gore,  
All's paid, y'are welcome when y'are out of door.  
FINIS.