THE LETTING OF HUMOUR'S BLOOD IN THE HEAD-VAINE.  
With a new Morissco, danced by seven satires, upon the bottom of Diogenes Tub.  
AT LONDON, Printed by W. White for W. F. 1600.   

TO THE GENTLEMEN READERS.  

HVmours, is late crowned king of Cavaliers.  
Fantastique-follies, graced with common favour:  
Civility, hath served out his years,  
And scorreth now to weight on Good behaviour.  
Gallants, like Richard the usurper, swagger,  
That had his hand continual on his dagger.   

Fashions is still consort with new fond shapes,  
And feedeth daily upon strange disguise:  
We show ourselves the imitating Apes  
Of all the toys that Strangers heads devise:  
For there's no habit of hell-hatched sin,  
That we delight not to be clothed in.   

Some swear, as though they Stars from heaven could pull▪  
And all their speech is pointed with the stab,  
When all men know it is some coward gull,  
That is but champion to a Shoreditch drab:  
Whose feather is his heads lightnes-proclaymer,  
Although he seem some mighty monster tamer.   

Epicurism cares not how he lives,  
But still pursueth brutish Appetite.  
Disdain, regards not what abuse he gives;  
Careless of wrongs, and unregarding right.  
Self-love, (they say) to self-conceit is wed,  
By which base match are ugly vices bred.   

Pride, revels like the roisting Pródigall;  
Stretching his credit that his purse strin●● crack,  
Until in some distressful jail he fall,  
Which wore of late a Lordship on his back:  
Where he till death must he for debt,  
" Griefs night is near, when pleasures sun is set,   

Vaunting, hath got a mighty thundering voice,  
Looking that all men should applaud his sound:  
His deeds are singular, his words be choice;  
On earth his equal is not to be found.  
Thus virtue's hid with Folly's juggling mist,  
And he's no man, that is no Humourist.   
S. R.   

TO POETS.  
GOod honest Poets, let me crave a boon,  
That you would write, I do not are how soon,  
Against the bastard humours hourly bred,  
In every mad brained wit-worne giddy head:  
At such gross follies do not sit and wink,  
Belabour these same Gulls with pen and ink.  
You see some strive for fair hand-writing fame,  
As Peter Bales his sign can prove the same, 
P. B. by writing won a golden Penne.   
Gracing his credit with a golden Pen:  
I would have Poets prove more taller men:  
In perfect Letters rested his contention,  
But yours consists in Wit's choice rare invention.  
Will you stand spending your inventions treasure,  
To teach Stage parrots speak for penny pleasure,  
While you yourselves like music sounding Lutes  
fretted and strung, gain them their silken suits.  
Leave Cupid's cut, women's face flattering praise,  
loves subject grows too threadbare now adays.  
Change Venus Swans, to write of Vulcan's Geese,  
And you shall merit Golden Pens a piece.  
FINIS.   

EPIGRAMS.  
Mirth pleaseth some; to others ti's offence:  
Some wish t'have folly told; some dislike that:  
Some commend plain conceits, some profound sense  
And most would have, themselves know not what.  
Then he that would please all, and himself too,  
Takes more in hand, than he is like to do.  

EPIG. 1.  

MOnsieur Domingo is a skilful man,  
For much experience he hath lately got,  
Proving more Physic in an Alehouse ca●  
Then may be found in any Vinthers' pot.  
Beer he protests is sodden and refined,  
But this he speaks being single penny lined.   

For when his purse is swollen dut sixpence bog  
Why then he swears; now by the Lord I think  
All Beer in Furope is not worth a fig.  
A cup of Claret is the only drink.  
And thus his praise from Beer to Wine doth go  
Even as his Purse in pence doth ebb and flow.    

EPIG. 2. BOREAS.  
Hung him base gull; I'll stab him by the Lord,  
If he presume to speak but half a word:  
●e paunch the villain with my Rapier's point,  
●r hew him with my Falchion joint by joint.  
Through both his cheeks my Poniard he shall have  
●r Mince-pie-like I'll mangle out the slave.  
●ske who I am, you whoreson frise-gowne patch?  
●all me before the counsel, or Watch?  
cannot a Captain walk the Queen's highway?  
●vones, who the speak to? know ye villains, ha?  
●ou drunken peasants, runs your tongues on wheels?  
●ong you to see your guts about your heels▪  
●oest love me Tim? let go my Rapier then,  
persuade me not from killing nine or ten:  
●are no more to kill them in braveado,  
●hen for to drink a pipe of Trinedado.  
●ly mind to patience never will restore-me,  
●ntill their blood do gush in streams beforeme,  
●hus doth Sir Lancelot in his drunken stagger,  
●●eare, curse & rail, threaten, protest, & swagger  
●ut being next day to sober answer brought,  
●e's not the man can breed so base a thought.   

EPIG. 3.  

When Thraso meets his friend, he swears by God,  
Unto his Chamber he shall welcome be:  
Not that he'll cloy him there with roast or sod,  
Such vulgar diet with Cook's shops agree:  
But he'll present most kind, exceeding frank,  
The best Tobacco, that he ever drank.   

Such as himself did make a voyage for,  
And with his own hands gathered from the ground  
All that which other fetch he doth abhor,  
His, grew upon an Island never found,  
Oh rare compound, a dying horse to choke,  
Of English fire, and of India smoke.    

EPIG. 4.  
Who seeks to please all men each way,  
And not himself offend,  
He may begin his work to day,  
But God knows when he'll end.   

EPIG. 5.  

Alas Delfridus keeps his bed God knows,  
Which is a sign his worship's very ill;  
His grief beyond the grounds of Physic goes,  
No Doctor that comes near it with his skill,  
Yet doth he eat, drink, talk, and sleep profound  
Seeming to all men's judgements healthful sound.   

Then guess the cause he thus to bed is drawn,  
What? think you so; may such a hap procure it?  
Well; faith 'tis true, his hose are out at pawn,  
A Breetchlesse chance is come, he must endure it  
His hose to Broker's jail committed are,  
His singular, and only, Velvet pair.    

EPIG. 6.  
Diogenes oneday through Athens went,  
With burning Torch in Sunshine: his intent  
Was (as he said) some honest man to find:  
●or such were rare to meet, or he was blind.  
●ne late, might have done well like light t'have got  
●hat sought his wife; met her, and knew her not:  
●ut stay, cry mercy, she had on her mask,  
●ow could his eyes perform their spying task?  
●is very true, 'twas hard for him to do,  
●y Sun, and Torch; let him take Lantern too.   

EPIG. 7.  

Speak Gentlemen, what shall we do to day?  
Drink some brave health upon the Dutch carouse  
Or shall we to the Globe and see a Play?  
Or visit Shoreditch for a bawdy house?  
Let's call for Cards or Dice, and have a Game,  
To sit thus idle, is both sin and shame.   

This speaks Sir Revel, furnished out with fashion,  
From dish-crownd Hat, unto the shoe's square to  
That haunts a whorehouse but for recreation,  
Plays but at Dice to coney catch or so.  
Drinks drunk in kindness, for good fellowship.  
Or to Play goes but some Purse to nip.    

EPIG. 8.  

Sir gall-Iade, is a Horse man ev'ry day,  
His Boots and Spurs and Legs do never part;  
He rides a horse as passing clean away,  
As any that goes Tyburne-warde by cart.  
Yet honestly he pays for hacknyes higher,  
But hang them jades, he sell's them when they tyre.   

He lives not like Diogenes on roots,  
But proves a Mince-pie guest unto his Host.  
He scorns to walk in Paul's without his Boots,  
And scores his diet on the Victuallers post:  
And when he knows not where to have his dinner  
He fasts, and swears, A glutton is a sinner.    

EPIG. 9 Drudo.  

This Gentleman hath served long in France,  
And is returned filthy full of French,  
In single combat, being hurt by chance,  
As he was closely foiling at a Wench:  
Yet hot alarms he hath endured good store,  
But never in like pocky heat before.   

He had no sooner drawn and ventured ny-her,  
Intending only but to have about,  
When she his Flask and Touchbox set on fire,  
And till this hour the burning is not out.  
judge, was not valour in this Martial wight,  
That with a spit-fir Serpent so durst fight.    

EPIG. 10. In Meritricem.  
Faith Gentleman, you move me to offence.  
In coming to me with unchaste pretence.  
Have I the looks of a lascivious Dame?  
That you should deem me fit for wantoness game?  
I am not she will take lusts sin upon her,  
He rather die, then dim chaste glorious honour.  
Tempt not mine ears; an grace of Christ I mean  
To keep my honest reputation clean:  
My hearing lets no such lewd sound come in,  
My senses loath to surfeit on sweet sin,  
Reverse your mind, that goes from grace astray,  
And God forgive you, with my heart I pray.  
The Gallant notes her words, observes her frowns  
Then draws his purse, & lets her view his crowns  
Vowing that if her kindness grant him pleasure,  
She shall be Mistress to command his treasure.  
The storms are calmed, the gust is overblown,  
And she replies with: Yours or not her own.  
Desiring him to censure for the best,  
'tTwas but her trick to try if men do jest:  
Her love is locked where he may pick the trunk  
Let Singer judge if this be not a punk.   

EPIG. 11.  

Politic Peter meets his friend a shore,  
That came from Seas but newly other day:  
And gives him French embracements by the score  
Then follows: Dick, Hast made good voyage, say?  
But hearing Richard's shares be poor and sick,  
Peter has haste, and cannot drink with Dick.   

Well, than he meets an other Cavaleere,  
Whom he salutes about the Knees and Thighs:  
welcome sweet james, now by the Lord what cheer  
ne'er better Peter, We have got rich prize.  
Come, come (says Peter) even a welcome quart,  
For by my faith, we'll drink before we part:   
Or thus:  
Fayth-we must drink, that's flat, before we part.   

EPIG. 12.  

Fine Philip comes unto the Barber's shop,  
where's nitty locks must suffer reformation.  
The Chair and Cushion entertain his slop:  
The Barber craves to know his worship's fashion.  
His will is shaven; for his beard is thin,  
It was so lately banished from his chin.   

But shaving oft will help it, he doth hope,  
And therefore for the smooth-face cut he calls:  
Then, fie; these clothes are washed with common soap.  
Why dost thou use such ordinary balls?  
I scorn this common trimming like a Boor,  
Yet with his heart he loves a common whore.    

EPIG. 13. Signieur Fantastic.  

I scorn to meet an enemy in field,  
Except he be a Soldier: (by this light)  
I likewise scorn, my reason for to yield:  
Yea further, I do well nigh scorn to fight.  
Moreover, I do scorn to be so vain,  
To draw my Rapier, and put up again.   

I eke do scorn to walk without my man,  
Yea, and I scorn good morrow and good deane:  
I also scorn to touch an Alehouse can,  
Thereto I scorn an ordinary Quean.  
Thus doth he scorn, disdainful, proud, and grim,  
All but the Fool only, he scorns not him,    

EPIG. 14.  
Some do account it golden luck,  
They may be Widdow-sped for muck,  
Boys on whose chins no down appears,  
Marry old Crones of threescore years:  
But they are fools to Widows cleave,  
Let them take that which Maids do leave.   

EPIG. 15.  
Amorous Austin spends much Balletting,  
In rimeing Letters, and love Sonnetting.  
She that loves him, his Ynckehorne shall be paint her,  
And with all Venus' titles he'll acquaint her:  
Vowing she is a perfect Angel right,  
When she by weight is many grains too light:  
Nay all that do but touch her with the stone,  
Will be deposed that Angel she is none.  
How can he prove her for an Angel them?  
That proves herself a Devil, tempting men,  
And draweth many to the fiery pit,  
Where they are burned for their en'tring it.  
I know no cause wherefore he terms her so,  
Unless he means she's one of them below,  
Where Lucifer, chief Prince doth domineer:  
If she be such, then good my hearts stand clear,  
Come not within the compass of her flight,  
For such as do, are haunted with a sprite.  
This Angel is not noted by her wings,  
But by her tail, as full of pricks and stings.  
And know this lustblind lover's vain is led,  
To praise his Devil, in an Angel's stead.   

EPIG. 16.  
Gallus will haus no Barbour prune his beard,  
Yet is his chin clean shaven and unhaired.  
How comes he trimmed, you may ask me than?  
His Wenches do it with their warming-pan.   

EPIG. 17.  

When Cavalero Rakehell is to rise  
Out of his bed, he caper's light and heady.  
Then wounds he swears: you arant whore he cries  
Why what's the cause that breakfast is not ready?  
Can men feed like Chameleons, on the air?  
This is the manner of his morning prayer.   

Well, he swears on, until his breakfast comes,  
And then with teeth he falls to work a pace:  
Leaving his boy a banquet all of crumbs.  
Dispatch you Rogue: my Rapier, that's his grace.  
So forth he walks, his stomach must go shift,  
To dine and sup abroad, by deed of gift.    

EPIG. 18.  
A woeful exclamation late I heard,  
Wherewith Tobacco takers may be feared:  
One at the point with pipe and leaf to part,  
Did vow Tobacco worse than death's black dart:  
And proved it thus You know (quoth he) my friend's  
Death only stabs the heart, and so life ends:  
But this same poison, steeped India weed,  
In head, heart, lungs, doth soot & cobwebs breed.  
With that he gasped, and breathed out such a smoke  
That all the standers by were like to choke.   

EPIG. 19  
Cacus would gladly drink, but wants his purse,  
Nay wanteth money, which is ten times worse:  
For as he vows himself, he hath not seen  
In three days space the picture of the Queen.  
Yet if he meet a friend near Tavern sign,  
Strait he entreats him take a pint of Wine:  
For he will give it, that he will, no nay.  
What will he give? the other leave to pay.  
He calleth: Boy, fill us the other quart,  
I will bestow it even with all my heart.  
Then doth he dive into his slops profound,  
Where not a poor Portcullis can be found.  
Mean while his friend discharges all the Wine:  
Stay, stay (quoth he) or well, next shallbe mine.   

EPIG. 02.  
Francke in name, and Francke by nature,  
Francis is a most kind creature:  
Herself hath suffered many a fall,  
●n striving how to pleasures all.   

EPIG. 21.  
Soto can prove, such as are drunk by noon,  
Are long-lived men; the pox he can as soon.  
Nay, hear his reason ere you do condemn,  
And if you find it foolish, hiss and hem.  
He says, Good blood is even the life of man;  
I grant him that: (say you) well go-to than.  
More drink, the more good blood▪ O that's a lie;  
The more you drink, the sooner drunk, say I.  
Now he protests you do him mighty wrong,  
Swearing a man in drink, is three men strong:  
And he will pawn his head against a penny,  
One right mad drunk, will brawl and fight with any.  
Well, you reply▪ that argument is weak,  
How can a drunkard brawl, that cannot speak?  
Or how can he use weapon in his hand.  
Which can not guide his feet to go or stand?  
Hark what an oath the drunken slave doth swear  
He is a man by that, a man may hear.  
And when you see him stagger, reel, and wink,  
He is a man and more; I by this drink.   

EPIG. 22.  
When signeur Sack & Sugar drink drowned reels,  
He vows to hew the spurs from's fellows heels  
When calling for a quart of Charnico,  
●nto a loving league they present grow:  
Then instantly upon a cup or twain,  
Out Poniards go, and to the stab again.  
●rendes upon that, they drink and so embrace:  
Strait bandy Daggers at each others face.  
This is the humour of a mad drunk fool,  
●n Tavern pots that keeps his Fenceing-schole.   

EPIG. 23.  

Cornutus was exceeding sick and ill,  
Pained as it seemed chief in his head:  
He called his friends, meaning to make his will,  
Who found him drunk, with hose & shoes a bed  
To whom he said: Oh good my Masters see,  
Drink with his dart hath all be stabbed me.   

I here bequeath, if I do chance to die,  
To you kind friends, and bon companions all,  
A pound of good Tobacco, sweet and dry,  
To drink amongst you, at my funeral:  
Besides, a barrel of the best strong Beer,  
And Pickle-herrings, for to domineer.    

EPIG. 24.  
We men, in many faults abound,  
But two in women can be found:  
The worst that from their sex proceeds,  
Is nought in words, and nought in deeds.   

EPIG. 25.  

Bid me go sleep? I scorn it with my heels,  
I know myself as good a man as thee.  
Let go mine Arm I say, lead him that reels,  
I am a right good fellow; dost thou see?  
I know what longs to drinking, and I can  
Abuse myself as well as any man.   

I care no more for twenty hundred pound,  
(Before the Lord) then for a very straw.  
I'll fight with any he above the ground.  
Tut, tell not me what's what; I know the law.  
Rapier and Dagger: hay, a kingly fight.  
I'll now try falls with any, by this light.    

EPIG. 26.  
Behold, a most accomplished Cavaleere,  
That the world's Ape of fashions doth appear,  
Walking the streets, his humours to disclose,  
In the French Doublet, and the German hose:  
The Muffs cloak, Spanish Hat, Toledo blade.  
Italian ruff, a Shoe right Flemish made,  
Like Lord of Misrule, where he comes he'll revel  
And lie for wagers with the lying'st devil.   

Epig. 27.  
Ask Humours why a Feather he doth wear?  
It is his humour (by the Lord) he'll swear.  
Or what he doth with such a Horse-tail lock?  
Or why upon a Whore he spends his stock?  
He hath a Humour doth determine so.  
Why in the stop-throate fashion doth he go,  
With Scarf about his neck? Hat without band?  
It is his humour, sweet sir understand.  
What cause his Purse is so extreme distressed,  
That oftentimes 'tis scarcely penny blest?  
Only a Humour: If you question why?  
His tongue is near unfurnished with a lie:  
It is his Humour too he doth protest.  
Or why with Sergeants he is so oppressed,  
That like to Ghosts they haunt him erie day?  
A rascal Humour, doth not love to pay.  
Object, why Boötes and Spurs are still in season?  
His Humour answers; Humour is his reason.  
If you perceive his wits in wetting shrunk,  
It cometh of a humour, to be drunk.  
When you behold his looks pale, thin, and poor,  
Th'occasion is, his Humour, and a Whore:  
And every thing that he doth undertake,  
It is a vain, for senseless Humours sake.   

EPIG. 28.  
Three highway standers, having croslesse curse,  
Did greet my friend with, Sir give us your purse,  
Though he were trueman, they agreed in one:  
For purse & coin betwixt them four was none.   

EPIG. 29.  
A Gentlewoman of the dealing trade,  
Procured her own sweet Picture to be made:  
Which being done, she from her word did slip,  
And would not pay full due 〈…〉 manshippe.  
The Painter swore she ne●● 〈…〉 have it so,  
She bade him keep it, and 〈…〉 go.  
He choleric, and might 〈…〉 content,  
Strait took his pencil and to work he went:  
Making the Dog she held, a grim cats face,  
And hung it in his shop to her disgrace,  
Some of her friends that saw it to her went,  
In jesting manner, as king what she meant,  
To have her picture hang where gazers swarm,  
Holding a filthy Cat within her arm?  
She in a shameful heat in haste did high,  
The Painter to content and satisfy:  
Right glad to give a French Crown for his pain  
To turn her Cat into a Dog again.   

EPIG. 30.  
When Tarlton clowned it in a pleasant vain  
With conceits did good opinions gain  
Upon the stage, his merry humours shop.  
Clowns knew the Clown, by his great clownish slop  
But now theyare gulled, for present fashion says,  
Dick Tarlton's part, gentlemen's breeches plays:  
In every street where any Gallant goes,  
The swaggering Slop, is Tarlton's clownish hose.   

EPIG. 31. To Lutius.  

One newly practised in Astronomy,  
That never dealt in weather wit before:  
Would scrape (forsooth) acquaintance of the sky.  
And by his art, go knock at heaven door,  
Mean while a Scholar in his study slips,  
And taught his Wife skill in the moons eclippes.   

Next night that friend persuades him walk alone  
Into the field, to gather stars that fell:  
To mix them with Philosophers rare stone  
That begets gold: he liked the motion well,  
And went to watch, where stars dropped very thin,  
But rain so shoured, it wet his foole-case skin.    

EPIG. 32.  
What gallant's that whose oaths fly through mine ears?  
How like a lord of Plut●es court he swears  
How brave in such a bawdy house he fought,  
How rich his empty purse is outside wrought,  
How Duchman-like he swallows down his drink  
How sweet he takes Tobacco till he stink:  
How lofty spirited he disdains a Boor,  
How faithful hearted he is to a ()  
How cocke-taile proud he doth his head a duance  
How rare his spurs do ring the morris-daunce.  
Now I protest, by Mistress Susan's fan,  
He and his boy, will make a proper man.   

Epig. 33.  
Laugh good my Masters, if you can intend it,  
For yonder comes a Fool that will defend it:  
Saw you a verier Ass in all your life,  
That makes himself a packhorse to his wife?  
I would his nose where I could wish, were warm,  
For carrying Pearl, so pretty under's arm.  
Pearl his wives dog, a pretty sweete-faced cur,  
That barks a nights at the least fart doth stir,  
Is now not well, his cold is scarcely brook,  
Therefore good Husband wrap him in thy cloak:  
And sweet heart, prithee help me to my Mask,  
Hold Pearl but tender, for he hath the lask.  
Hear, take my Muff: & do you hear good man?  
Now give me Pearl, and carry you my Fan.  
Alack poor Pearl, the wretch is full of pain,  
Husband take Pearl, give me my Fan again:  
See how he quakes; faith I am like to weep:  
Come to me Pearl; my Scarf good husband keep  
To be with me I know my Puppy loves.  
Why Pearl, I say: Husband take up my Gloves.  
Thus goodman Idiot thinks himself an Earl,  
That he can please his wife, and carry Pearl:  
But other judge his state to be no higher,  
Then a dogs yeoman, or some pippin squire.   

EPIG. 34.  
What's he that fits ●nd takes a nap,  
Faced like the North wind of a map:  
And sleeping, to the wind doth nod?  
'tis Bacchus cousin, Bellie-god.   

EPIG. 35.  

Severus is extreme in eloquence,  
In perfumed words, plunged over head and ears,  
He doth create rare phrase, but rarer sense,  
Fragments of Latin, all about he bears.  
Unto his Servingman, alias his Boy,  
He utters speech exceeding acquaint and coy.   

Diminutive, and my defective slave,  
Reach my corpses coverture immediately:  
My pleasure's pleasure is, the same to have,  
T'insconce my person from frigidity.  
His man believes all's Welch, his Master spoke,  
Till he rails English: Rogue go fetch my cloak,    

EPIG. 36.  
Why should the Mercer's trade, a Satin suit,  
With Cook's grease be so wickedly pollute?  
The reason is, the scandal and defame  
Grew, that a greasy sloven wears the same.   

EPIG. 37.  
An honest Vicker and a kind consort,  
That to the Alehouse friendly would resort,  
To have a game at Tables now and than,  
Or drink his pot as soon as any man.  
As fair a gamester, and as free from brawl,  
As ever man should need to play withal:  
Because his hostess pldged him not carouse,  
Rashly in choler did forswear her house.  
Taking the glass, this was the oath he swore,  
Now by this drink, I'll near come hither more  
But mightily his Hostess did repent,  
For all her guests to the next Alehouse went,  
Following their Vickers steps in every thing,  
He led the parish even by a string.  
At length his ancient Hostess did complain,  
She was undone, unless he came again,  
Desiring certain friends of hers and his,  
To use a policy, which should be this:  
Because with coming he should not forswear him,  
To save his oath, they on their backs might bear him  
Of this good course the Vicket well did think,  
And so they always carried him to drink.   
FINIS.   

satires.  
Your Scene is done, depart you Epigrams:  
Enter Goat-footed satires, butt like Rams:  
Come nimbly forth, Why stand you on delay?  
O-ho, the Musique-tuning makes you stay.  
Well, frisk it out nimbly: you slaves begin,  
For now me thinks the fiddlers hands are in.  

1.  
WHo have we here? Behold him and be mute,  
Some mighty man I'll warrant by his suit.  
If all the Mercers in Cheapside show such,  
I'll give them leave to give me twice as much:  
I think the stuff is nameless he doth wear,  
But what so ere it be, it is huge gear.  
Mark but his gate, and give him then his due,  
Some swaggering fellow, I may say to you:  
It seems Ambition in his big looks shrouds,  
Some Centaur sure, begotten of the Clouds,  
Now a shame take the buzzard, is it he:  
I know the ruffaine, now his face I see.  
On a more gull the Sun did never shine,  
How with a vengeance comes the fool so fine?  
Some Noble man's cast Suit is fallen unto him,  
For buying Hose and Doublet would undo him.  
But wot you now, whither the buzzard walks?  
I, into Paul's for sooth, and there he talks  
Of foreign tumults, uttering his advice,  
And proving Wars even like a game at dice:  
For this (says he) as every gamester knows,  
Where one side wins, the other side must lose  
Next speech he utters, is his stomachs care,  
Which ordinary yields the cheapest fare:  
Or if his purse be out of tune to pay,  
Then he remembers 'tis a fasting day:  
And then he talketh much against excess,  
Swearing all other Nations eat far less  
Than Englishmen; experience you may get  
In France and Spain; where he was never yet.  
With a score of Figs and half a pint of Wine,  
Some four or fine will very hugely dine.  
Me thinks this tale is very huge in sound,  
That half a pint should serve five to drink round  
And twenty Figs could feed them full and fat:  
But travelers may lie; who knows not that,  
Then why not he, that travels in conceit,  
From East to West, when he can get no meat?  
His journey is in Paul's in the back Isles,  
where's stomach counts each pace a hundred miles.  
A tedious thing, though chance will have it such,  
To travail so long baytlesle, sure 'tis much.  
Some other time stumbling on wealthy Chuffs,  
Worth gulling: then he swaggers all in huffs,  
And tells them of a prize he was at taking  
Will be the ship-boy's children's children's making:  
And that a Mouse could find no room in hold,  
It was so pestered all with pearl and gold:  
Vowing to pawn his head if it were tried,  
They had more Rubies than would pave Cheapsid  
A thousand other gross and odious ●ies,  
He dares avouch to blind dull judgements eyes,  
Not caring what he speak or what he swear,  
So he gain credit at his hearers care.  
Sometimes into the Royal Exchange he'll drop  
Clad in the ruins of a Broker's shop:  
And there his tongue runs by as on affairs,  
No talk but of commodities and wares:  
And what great wealth he looks for ery wind,  
From God knows where, the place is hard to find.  
If news be harkend for, than he prevails,  
Setting his mint a work to coin false tales.  
His tongues-end is betipt with forged chat,  
Uttering rare lies to be admired at,  
he'll tell you of a tree that he doth know,  
Upon the which Rapiers and Daggers grow,  
As good as Fleetstreet hath in any shop,  
which being ripe, down into scabbards drop.  
He hath a very piece of that same Chair.  
In which Caesar was stabbed: Is it not rare?  
He with his feet upon the stones did tread,  
That Satan brought, & bad Christ make them bread  
His wondrous travels challenge such renown,  
That Sir john Maundivell is quite put down.  
Men without heads, and Pigmy's hand-bredth hie  
Those with one leg that on their backs do lie,  
And do the weather's injury disdaie,  
Making their legs a penthouse for the rain:  
Are tut, and tush: not any thing at all.  
His knowledge knows, what no man's notice shall  
This is a mate unmeet for every groom,  
And where he comes, peace, give his lying room  
He saw a Hollander in Middleborow,  
As he was flashing of a brown Loaf thorough,  
Whereto the haste of hunger had inclined him.  
Cut himself through, & two that stood behind him  
Besides, he saw a fellow put to death,  
Can drink a whole Beer barrel at a breath.  
Oh this is he that will say any thing,  
That to himself may any profit bring.  
'Gainst whosoever he doth speak he cares not,  
For what is it that such a villain dares not?  
And though in conscience he cannot deny,  
The All-commaunder saith, Thou shalt not lie,  
Yet will he answer (careless of soul's state)  
Truth telling, is a thing obtaineth hate.  
FINIS.   

2. satire.  
A Man may tell his friend his fault in kindness:  
To wink at folly, is a foolish blindness.  
God save you sir, saluteth with a grace,  
One he could wish never to see his face.  
But doth not he use mere dissimulation,  
That's inside hate, and outside salutation?  
Yes as I take it; yet his answer says,  
Fashions, and Customs, use it now a days.  
A Gentleman perhaps may chance to meet  
His living-griper face to face in street:  
And though his looks are odious unto sight;  
Yet will he do him the French congés right,  
And in his heart wish him as low as hell,  
When in his words, he's glad to see him well:  
Then being thus, a man may soon suppose  
There is, God save you sir, sometimes twixt foes.  
Oh sir, why that's as true as you are here,  
With one example I will make it clear,  
And far to fetch the same I will not go,  
But into Heunds-ditch, to the Broker's row:  
Or any place where that trade doth remain,  
Whether at Holborn Conduit, or Long-lane:  
If thither you vouchsafe to turn your eye,  
And see the Pawns that under forfeit lie,  
Which are forth coming sir, and safe enough  
Says goodman Broker, in his new print ruff:  
He will not stand too strictly on a day,  
Encouraging the party to delay;  
With all good words, the kindest may be spoke,  
He turns the Gentleman out of his Cloak.  
And yet between them both, at every meeting,  
God save you sir, is their familiar greeting,  
This is much kindness sure, I pray commend him,  
With great good words, he highly doth befriend him  
It is a favour at a pinch in need:  
A pinching friendship, and a pinching deed.  
The slave may wear his suits of Satin so,  
And like a man of reputation go,  
When all he hath in house, or on his back,  
It is his own, by forfeitures shipwreck.  
See you the Brooch that long in's Hat hath been?  
It may be there, it cost him not a pin:  
His sundry sorts of divers men's attire,  
He wears them cheap, even at his own desire.  
Shame over take the peasant for his pain,  
That he should pray on losses, to his gain,  
In drawing Wardrobes under his subjection,  
Being a knave in manners and complexion,  
jump like to Usury, his nearest kin;  
That wears a money bag under his chin:  
A bunch that doth resemble such a shape,  
And haired like to Paris garden Ape,  
Foaming about the chaps like some wild Boor,  
As swart and tawny as an India Moor:  
With narrow brow, and Squirrel eyes, he shows,  
His faces chiefest ornament, is nose,  
Full furnished with many a Claret stain,  
As large as any Codpiece of a Dane,  
Embossed curious; every eye doth judge,  
His lacket faced with moth-eaten Budge:  
To which a pair of Satin sleeves he wears,  
Wherein two pound of grease about he bears.  
His Spectacles do in a copper case,  
Hang dangling about his pissing place.  
His breeches and his hose, and all the rest  
Are suitable: His gown (I mean his best)  
Is full of threads, Entitled right threadbare:  
But wool there on is wondrous scant and rare.  
The welting hath him in no charges stood,  
Being the ruins of a cast French hood.  
Excess is sinful, and he doth defy it,  
A sparing whoreson in attire and diet.  
Only excess is lawful in his Chest,  
For there he makes a golden Angel's nest:  
And vows no farther to be found a lender,  
Then that most precious metal doth engender:  
Begetting daily more and more increase,  
His moneys slave, till wretched life surcease.  
This is the jew allied very near,  
unto the Broker, for they both do bear  
Undoubted testimony of their kin:  
A brace of Rascals in a league of sin.  
Two filthy Curs that will on no man fawn,  
Before they taste the sweetness of his pawn.  
And then the slaves will be as kind forsooth,  
Not as Kind-hart, in drawing out a tooth:  
For he doth ease the Patient of his pain,  
But they disease the Borrower of his gain.  
Yet neither of them use extremity,  
They can be villains even of charity.  
To lend our brother it is meet and fit:  
Give him roast meat and beat him with the spit.  
Vserie sure is requisite and good,  
And so is Brokeage, rightly understood:  
But soft a little, what is he says so?  
One of the twain (upon my life) I know.  
FINIS.   

3. SATIRE.  
OH, let the Gentlewoman have the wall,  
I know her well; 'tis Mistress, What d'ye call.  
It should be she, both by her Mask and Fan:  
And yet it should not, by her serving-man;  
For if mine eyes do not mistake the fool,  
He is the Usher of some dancing School,  
The reason why I do him such suppose,  
Is this, Me thinks he danceth as he goes.  
An active fellow, though he be but poor,  
Either to vault upon a Horse, or etc.  
See you the huge bum Dagger at his back,  
To which no Hilt nor Iron he doth lack.  
Oh with that blade he keeps the queans in awe,  
Bravely behacked, like a twohand Saw.  
Stamps on the ground, & biteth both his thumbs  
Unless he be commander where he comes.  
You damned whores, where are you? quick come here,  
Dry this Tobacco. Fill a dozen of Beer:  
Will you be brief? or long you to be banged?  
Hold, take this Match, go light it and be hanged.  
Where stay these whores when Gent. do call?  
here's no attendance (by the Lord) at all.  
Then down the stairs the pots in rage he throws  
And in a damned vain of swearing grows,  
For he will challenge any under heaven,  
To swear with him, and give him six at seven.  
Oh, he is an accomplished Gentleman,  
And many rare conceited knacks he can;  
Which yield to him a greater store of gain,  
Than juggling Kings, hay Pass, ledgerdemaine.  
His wit's his living: one of acquaint device,  
For Bowling-allies, Cockpits, Cards, or Dice,  
To those exploits he ever stands prepared:  
A Villain excellent at a Bum card.  
The Knave of Clubs he any time can burn,  
And find him in his bosom, for his turn.  
Tut, he hath Cards for any kind of game,  
Primero, Saunt, or whatsoever name:  
Make him but dealer, all his fellows swears,  
If you do find good dealing, take his ears.  
But come to Dice, why that's his only trade,  
Michael Mumchaunce, his own invention made.  
He hath a stock, whereon his living stays,  
And they are Fullams, and Bard quarter-trayes:  
His Langrets, with his High men, and his low,  
Are ready what his pleasure is to throw:  
His stopped Dice with Quicksilver never miss.  
He calls for, Come on five; and there it is:  
Or else he'll have it with five and a reach,  
Although it cost his neck the Halter stretch.  
Besides all this same kind of cheating art,  
The Gentleman hath some good other part,  
Well seen in Magic and Astrology,  
Flinging a Figure wondrous handsomely,  
Which if it do not miss, it sure doth hit:  
Of troth the man hath great store of small wit.  
And note him wheresoever that he goes,  
His Book of Characters is in his hose.  
His dinner he will not presume to take,  
Ere he ask counsel of an Almanac.  
he'll find if one prove false unto his wife,  
Only with Ox blood, and a rustic knife.  
He can transform himself unto an Ass,  
Show you the Devil in a Crystal glass:  
The Devil say you? why I, is that such wonder?  
Being consorts, they will not be a sunder.  
Alchemy in his brains so sure doth settle,  
He can make gold of any copper kettle;  
Within a three weeks space or such a thing,  
Riches upon the whole world he could bring.  
But in his own purse one shall hardly spy it,  
Witness his Hostess, for a twelvemonth's diet:  
Who would be glad of gold or silver either,  
But swears by chalk, & post, she can get neither.  
More, he will teach any to gain their love,  
●s thus (says he) take me a Turtle Dove,  
And in an Oven let her lie and bake  
●o dry, that you may powder of her make;  
Which being put into a cup of wine,  
The wench that drinks it will to love incline:  
●nd shall not sleep in quiet in her bed,  
Till she be eased of her maidenhead.  
This is probatum, and it hath been tried,  
Or else the cunning man cunningly lied.  
● may be so, a lie is not so strange,  
Perhaps he spoke it when the Moon did change  
And thereupon (no doubt) th'occasion sprung,  
Unconstant Luna, over ruled his tongue.  
Astronomers that traffic with the Sky,  
By common censure sometimes meet the lie:  
Although in deed their blame is not so much,  
When Stars & Planets fail, & keep not touch.  
And so this fellow with his large profession,  
That ends his trial in a far digression:  
Philosophers bequeathed him their stone,  
To make gold with, yet can his purse hold none.  
FINIS.   

4. SATIRE.  
Melflunious, sweet Rose-watred eloquence,  
Thou that hast hunted Barbarism hence,  
And taught the goodman Cobbin at his plough,  
To be as eloquent as Tully now:  
Who nominic ate's his Bread and Cheese a name,  
(That doth untrusle the nature of the same)  
His stomach stair. How dye like the phrase?  
Are Plowmen simple fellows now a days?  
Not so my Masters: What means Singer then?  
And Pope the Clown, to speak so Boorish, when  
They counterfeit the clowns upon the Stage?  
Since Country fellows grow in this same age,  
To be so acquaint in their new printed speech,  
That cloth will now compare with Velvet breech  
Let him discourse even where, and when he dare,  
Talk near so Ynkhorne learnedly and rare,  
Swear Cloth breech is a peasant (by the Lord)  
Threaten to draw his wrath-venger, his sword:  
Tush, Cloth-breech doth deride him with a laugh,  
And lets him see Bone-baster, that's his staff:  
Then tells him brother, friend, or so forth, hear ye  
'tis not your knitting-needle makes me fear ye.  
If to ascension you are so declined,  
I have a restitution in my mind:  
For though your beard do stand so fine mustated,  
Perhaps your nose may be.  
Man, I dare challenge thee to throw the sledge,  
To jump or leap over a ditch or hedge,  
To wrestle, play a stooleball, or to run,  
To pitch the bar, or to shoot off a gun,  
To play at loggats, nine holes, or ten pings,  
To try it out at football by the shins;  
At Ticktacke, Irish, Noddy, Maw, and Ruff:  
At hot-cockles, leapfrog, or blindman-buffe.  
To drink half pots, or deal at the whole can:  
To play at base, or pen-and Ynkhorne sir Ihan:  
To dance the Morris, play at barleybreak:  
At all exploits a man can think or speak:  
At shove-groate, venter-poynt, or cross and pile.  
Atbeshrow him that's last at yonder style,  
At leaping over a Midsummer bonfire,  
Or at the drawing Dun out of the mire:  
At any of these, or all these presently,  
Wag but your finger, I am for you, I.  
I scorn (that am a youngster of our town)  
To let a Bow-bell Cockney put me down.  
This is a Gallant far beyond a Gull,  
For very valour fills his pockets full.  
Wit showers upon him wisdoms rain in plent  
For heel be hanged, if any man find twenty  
In all their parish, whatsoe'er they be,  
Can show a head so polleticke as he.  
It was his father's luck of late to die  
Untestate; he about the Legacy  
To London came, enquiring all about,  
How he might find a Civill-villin out,  
Being unto a Civil Lawyer sent,  
Pray Sir (quoth he) are you the man I meant:  
That have a certain kind of occupation,  
About dead men, that leave things out of fashion  
Death ●ath done that which t'answere he's not ab  
My father he is died detestable:  
I being his eldest heir, he did prefer  
Me Sir, to be his Executioner:  
And very briefly my request to finish,  
Pray how may I by law, his goods diminnish?  
Was this a Clown? tell true, or was a none?  
You make fat Clowns, if such as he be one:  
A man may swear, if he were urged to it.  
Foolisher fellows, have not so much wit.  
Oh such as he, are even the only men,  
Love letters in a Milkmaids praise to pen:  
Lines that will work the cursedest sullen shrew,  
To love a man whether she will or no.  
Being most wondrous pathetical,  
To make Cisse out a cry in love withal:  
He scorns that master Schoolmaster should think  
He wants his aid in half a pen of ink:  
All that he doth it cometh every whit,  
From nature's dry-fat, his own mother wit.  
As thus:  
Thou Honnysuckle of the Hawthorne hedge,  
Vouchsafe in Cupid's cup my heart to pledge,  
My hearts dear blood sweet Cis, is thy carouse,  
Worth all the Ale in Gammer Gubbins house:  
I say no more, affairs call me away,  
My Father's horse for provender doth stay,  
Be thou the Lady Cresset-light to me,  
Sir Trollelolle I will prove to thee.  
Written in haste: farewell my cowslip sweet,  
Pray let's a Sunday at the Alehouse meet.  
FINIS.   

5. satire.  
'tIs a bad world, the common speech doth go,  
And he complains, that helps to make it so:  
Yet every man th'imputed crime would shun,  
Hypocrisy with a fine thread is spun.  
Each strives to show the very best in seeming,  
Honest enough, if honest in esteeming.  
Praise waits upon him now with much renown  
That wraps up vices under virtues gown:  
Commending with good words, religious deed  
To help the poor, supply our neighbours need  
Do no man wrong, give every man his own,  
Be friend to all, and enemy to none;  
Have charity, avoid contentious strife,  
Oft he speaks thus, that near did good in's life.  
Derision hath an ore in every Boat,  
In's Neighbours eye he quickly spies a moat,  
But the great beam that's noted in his own,  
He let's remain, and never thinks thereon.  
Some do report he bears about a sack,  
Half hanging forwards, half behind at's backet  
And his own faults (quite out of sight & mind)  
He casts into the part that hangs behind:  
But other men's, he putteth in before,  
And into them, he looketh evermore.  
Contempt comes very near to th' others vain,  
He hates all good deserts with proud disdain:  
Rashness is his continual walking mate,  
Costly apparelled, lofty in his gate:  
Up to the ears in double ruffs and startch,  
God bless your eyesight when you see him march:  
●atutes, and laws, he dare presume to break,  
Against superiors cares not what he speak.  
●●● his humour's recreation fits,  
To bear Counstables, and resist all writs,  
swearing the ripest wits are childish young;  
〈…〉 less they gain instructions from his tongue.  
〈…〉 hers nothing done amongst the very best,  
●ut he'll ●eri●e it with some bitter jest.  
●'s meat and drink unto him always, when▪  
He may be censuring of other men.  
If a man do but toward a Tavern look,  
He is a drunkard he'll swear on a Book:  
Or if one part a fray of good intention,  
He is a quarreler, and loves dissension.  
Those that with silence vain discourses break,  
Are proud fantastics, that disdain to speak.  
Such as speak soberly with wisdoms leisure,  
Are fools, that in affected speech take pleasure,  
If he hear any that reproveth vice,  
He says, there's none but hypocrites so nice.  
No honest woman that can pass along,  
But must endure some scandal from his tongue.  
She, deals cross blows her husband never feels:  
This Gentle woman, weareth capering heels.  
There minces Mall, to see what youth will like her,  
Her eyes do bear her witness she's a striker.  
Yonder's a wench, new dipped in beauty's blaze,  
She, is a Maid as Maids go now adays.  
And thus Contempt makes choicest recreation,  
In holding every one in detestation:  
His common gate is of the jetting size,  
He hath a pair of ever-staring eyes.  
And looks a man so hungry in the face,  
As he would eat him up, and near say grace.  
A little low crowned Hat he always wears,  
And Fore-horse-like therein a Feather bears.  
Goodly curled locks; but surely 'tis great pity,  
For want of kembing, they are beastly nitty.  
Hi● 〈…〉 is a cut cast Satin one,  
He scorns to buy new now, that near bought none  
Spotted in divers places with pure fat,  
Known for a right tall trencher man by that.  
His Breeches that came to him by befrending,  
Are desperate like himself, & quite past mending  
He takes a common course to go untrust,  
Except his Shirt's a washing; then he must  
Go woollward for the time: he scorns it he,  
That worth two Shirts his Laundress should him see  
The weapons that his humours do efford,  
Is Bum-dagger, and basket hilted Sword.  
And these in every Bawdy house are drawn  
Twice in a day, unless they be at pawn.  
If any fall together by the ears,  
To field cries he; why? zounds (to field) he swears  
Show yourselves men: hay, slash it out with blows  
Let won make tother's guts garter his hose,  
Make Steel and Iron umpiers to the Fray,  
You shall have me go with, to see fair play:  
Let me alone, for I will have a care  
To see that one do kill the other fair.  
This is Contempt, that's every one's disdayner  
The strife pursuer, and the peace refrayner  
Hates thunderbolt, damned Murders larum-bell,  
A near dear Kinsman to the Devil of hell:  
And he whom Satan to this humour brings,  
Istn only man for all detested things.  
FINIS.   

6. satire.  
TOm's no good fellow, nor no honest man:  
Hang him, he would not pledge Ralph half a can  
But if a friend may speak as he doth think,  
Will is a right good fellow by this drink:  
Oh William, William, thou'rt as kind a youth,  
As ever I was drunk with, that's the truth.  
Tom is no more like thee, than Chalks like Cheese.  
To pledge a health, or to drink up-se freeze:  
Fill him his Beaker, he will never flinch,  
To give a full quart pot the empty pinch.  
he'll look unto your water well enough.  
And hath an eye that no man leaves a snuff.  
A pox of piecemeal drinking (William says)  
Play it away, we'll have no stops and stays,  
Blown drink is odious, what man can digest it,  
No faithful drunkard, but he doth detest it.  
I hate half this, out with it, and an end,  
He is a buzzard will not pledge his friend,  
But stands as though his drinks mast-sacke were closed  
with, here's t'ye Sir, against you are disposed?  
How say my friend, an may I be so bold,  
Blowing on's Beer like broth to make it cold,  
Keeping the full glass till it stand and sour,  
Drinking but after half a mile an hour,  
Unworthy to make one, or gain a place,  
Where boon companions gauge the pots apace.  
A man's a ma●▪ and therewithal an end,  
Good-fellowship was bred and borne to spend,  
No man ere saw a pound of sorrow yet,  
Can be allowed to pay an ounce of debt.  
We may be here to day, and gone to morrow.  
Call me for six pots more come on, hang sorrow  
Tut, lack another day? Why, 'tis all one,  
When we are dead, than all the world is gone.  
Begin to me good Ned: What? hast gone right?  
Is it the same that tickeld me last night?  
We gave the Brewer's Diet-drink a wipe:  
Brave Malt-Tabacco in a quart pot-pipe,  
It nettld me, and did my brains inspire,  
I have forsworn your drinking smoke and fire:  
Out upon Cane and leaf Tobacco smell:  
Devils take home your drink keep it in hell.  
Carouse in Cannons Trinidado smoke,  
Drink healths to one another till you choke,  
And let the Indians pledge you till they sweat,  
Give me the element that drowneth heat:  
Strong sodden Water is a virtuous thing,  
It makes one swear, and swagger like a King,  
And hath more hidden Virtue than you think,  
For I'll maintain, good liquour's meat and drink:  
Nay, I'll go further with you, for in troth,  
It is as good as meat, and drink, and cloth;  
For he that is in Maltmans' Hall enrolled,  
Cares not a point for hunger nor for cold.  
If it be cold, he drinketh till he sweat,  
If it be hot, he drinks to lay the heat:  
So that how ere it be cold or hot,  
To precious use he doth apply the pot:  
And will approve it Phisically sound,  
If it be drunk upon the Danish round:  
Or taken with a Pickle-herring or two,  
As Flemings at Saint Katherine's use to do:  
Which fish hath virtue, eaten salt and raw,  
To pull drink to it, even as jet doth straw.  
Oh 'tis a very Whetstone to the brain,  
A march-beer shower that puts down April rain  
It makes a man active to leap and spring,  
To dance and vault, to carrowle and to sing:  
For all exploits it doth a man enable,  
T'out leap men's heads, and caper o'er the table,  
To burn Sack with a candle till he reels,  
And then to trip-up his companions heels.  
To sing like the great Organ pipe in Paul's,  
And censure all men under his controls.  
Against all comers ready to maintain,  
That deepest wit is in a drunken brain.  
I marry is it; that it is he knows it,  
And by this drink, at all times will depose it,  
He says, that day is to a minute shrunk,  
In which he makes not some good fellow drunk:  
As for nine worthies on his Hosts wall,  
He knows three worthy drunkards pass them all  
The first of them in many a Tavern tried,  
At last subdued by Aquavitae, died.  
His second Worthies date was brought to fine,  
Feasting with Oysters and brave Rhenish wine,  
The third, whom divers Dutchmen held full dear,  
Was stabbed by pickled Hear & strong Beer.  
Well, happy is the man doth rightly know,  
The virtue of three cups of Charnico:  
Being taken fasting, th'only cure for Phlegm,  
It worketh wonders on the brain, extreme.  
A pottle of wine at morning, or at night,  
Drunk with an Apple, is employed right,  
To rinse the Livet, and to purify  
A dead sick heart from all infirmity.    
FINIS.