ACADEMIA: OR, THE HUMOURS OF THE University of Oxford. IN BURLESQUE Verse. By Mrs. Alicia D'Anvers. LONDON, Printed and sold by Randal Tailor near Stationers Hall. 1691. TO THE UNIVERSITY. HAil peaceful Shade, whose sacred verdant side Bold Thamisis salutes, hail Noble Tide; Hail Learning's Mother, hail Great Britain's Pride. Hail to thy lovely Groves, and Bowers, wherein Thy Hea'ven begotten Darlings sit, and sing; Thy Firstborn Sons, who shall in After-Story Share thy loud Fame, as now they bring thee Glory. Arrived at such a rich Maturity, Those who spell Man so well, would blush to be Took at the Mother's Breast, or Nurse's Knee; Much more in filth to wallow Shoulder high, In Tears, till his kind Nurse had laid him dry. Actions that give no blush of Gild, or Shame, To those so young, that yet they want a Name, (I've heard that Brute, and Infant are the same.) Then beauteous Matron, frown not on me for't. Tho at the triflings of your younger sort, I smile so much; since all I hope to do, Is but to raise your Smiles, and others too, And please myself, if pardoned first by you. ACADEMIA: OR THE HUMOURS OF THE University of Oxford. I'Intend to give you a Relation, As prime as any is in the Nation: The Name of th' place is— let me see, Called most an end the ‛ Versity; In which same place, as Story tells, Lived once Nine handsome bonny Girls, Highly in olden Time reputed, Tho' now so thawcted and persecuted; Scholars belike now can't abide 'em, So that they're fain to scout and hid 'em, Or's sure as you're alive they'd beat 'em; Out of the place they'd choose to seat 'em, And they who won't be seen to maul 'em, Revile, bespatter 'em, or becall 'um. E'en these sly Curs would Strumpets make 'em, When e'er they catch 'em can, or take 'em, And pinch 'em, till 've made 'em sing ye, The filthy'st stuff as one can bring ye; The end of all such Rascals wooing, Proves many he heedless girl's undoing: All these, and twenty more Abuses, Are daily offered to the Muses. You may perceive, I'm mightily Disturbed, they're used so spitefully; And must confess, where's no denying, That I can hardly hold from crying; But that I mayn't be seen to bellow, Like ‛ Girl forsaken by a Fellow, Roar, throw my Snot about, and blubber, Like Schoolboys, or an amorous Lubber, I'll lay aside my Bowels yearning, And talk of Scholars, and their Learning. When the young Farmer, or young Farrier, Comes jogging up with's Country Carrier, Well horsed as he, for I have seen 'em Both have but one good Horse between 'em: But two Bums, with one Horse there under, Is no great matter of a wonder; For some are fain to ride o'th' packing, Made easy with good Straw, and Sacking, Kindly contrived for's Buttocks sake, Which otherwise might chance to ache: But then there's no great fear of tumbling, Although the Nag were given to stumbling; He can't be hurt (Sir,) if you'd have him, Say he should fall, the pack would save him: So that if I might tell my mind, Sir, I'd's live ride so, as ride behind Sir. Then if the Youngman's Band or Cravit, Handkerchief, Neck-cloath, what you'll have it, Be ill put on, or off be blown, The Carrier ties, or pin's it on; Or he had been a very Clown, to Be bred and born i'th' same Town too. And knew his Friends so well, and knew him, That would'nt have been civil to him; Beside, a charge given by his Mother, To use him kinder than another. Now being arrived at his College, The place of Learning, and of Knowledge, A while he'll leer about, and snivel ye, And doff his Hat to all most civilly, Being told at home that a shame Face too, Was a great sign he had some Grace too, He'll speak to none, alas! for he's Amazed at every Man he sees: May-hap this lasts a Week, or two, Till some Scab laughs him out on't, so That when most you'd expect his mending, His Breed, ended, and not ending: Now he dares walk abroad, and dare ye, Hat on, in People's Faces stare ye, Thinks what a Fool he was before, to Pull off his Hat, which he'd no more do; But that the Devil shites Disasters, So that he's forced to cap the Masters, He might have nailed it to his Head, else, And wore it Night, and Day a Bed, else, And then d'ye see, for I'd have you mind it, He had always known where to find it; But of a bad thing, make the best say, And of two Evils choose the least pray, He must cap them; but for all other, Tho 'twere his Father, or his Mother, His Gran'um, Uncle, Aunt, or Cousin, He wi' not give one Cap to a dozen; Tho you must know he flows with Money, Given by his Mam, unto her Honey; His Aunts, their were apiece too, Having had the luck to sell their Geese to Some profit, that same Market-day, Being th' o'er night he came away: But f'rall they were so loving to him, Besure they'd always see him doing, Because they entertained this Hope, In time he might become a Bishop; That often he had cause to grumble, Under thick-fisted Master Fumble: The Master of the School was he, And flashed him for his good, d'ye see, Beating his Brains into his Collar, That he might prove the better Scholar. He looks upon it as a Blessing Beyond his wish and his expressing; A good Substantial, and no Fiction, To be free from his Jurisdiction, With's Fellow Rake-hells' gets acquainted, Who might i'th' Country have been Sainted. These kindly hug young Soph, and squeeze him, And of his Cash t'a Farthing ease him; This being done, and being so, He's at a loss now what to do. So here I'll leave him, I must tell ye, With a Heart panting in his Belly; But lest Despair prove his undoing, long I'll come again unto him, With some of's hackle and profession, Tho I must make a short digression; These being of another sort, than Those who'd designed for Inns of Court-men. Who most an end come up a Horseback, Tho many a time they're brought a pick-pack, Like Geese to Market, niddle, noddle, So high, no marvel their Brains prove oddle. Another sort of idle Loaches Come lolling up to Town in Coaches; Those I've spoken of, d'ye observe me, Either's a Servitor to serve ye, Brings Bread and Beer, or what is called for, Eating what's left, Trencher and all (Sir:) Or else a Commoner may be, And thinks himself better than he, Because he should pay for his eating, But can't, unless you'll take a beating. The next, who ' as leave to domineer, Adds Gentleman to Commoner, Most dearly tendered by his Mother, Who loves him better than his Brother; So she at home, a good while keeps him, In White-broth, and Canary steeps him: And though his Noddle's somewhat empty, His Guts are stuffed with Sweetmeats plent: Madam's most sadly tosticated, Knowing her Boy but empty-pated, Lest the soft Squire might starved be, When e'er he's sent to''th' Versity; Which to prevent, and to befriend him, A Pie, or Cake, she'll quickly send him, Directed for her loving Son, Living i'th' College in Oxford Town; Charging her Man to let him know, That they're all well, and hope he's so: But what his Mother sent up with him, Being much more than now she gives him; And all consumed; he thinks it best To hid, and eat by himself the rest: His will at home (Sir,) always having, But made his Stomach, the more craving; May hap they'd twenty hundred Dishes, And twenty thousand sort of Fishes, Of which, when but a little Elf, He'd eat the greatest part himself; d'ye think then 'twould not make the young Lad At a Three half pence Meat become sad, Which at the College, you must know, Man's No more, nor less; than one Boys Commons? And then, they make a hideous clutter For a Farth'n Drink, Bread, Cheese, or Butter; And would that pay, now, in your thinking, For washing of the Pot they drink in? Yet for all this, his Tutor cries ye, Sufficient 'tis, and may suffice ye; Knowing from being bred a Scholar, Much eating breeds both Phlegm, and Choler, Much praying him, does much advise it, If he loves Learning, to despise it: Glutt'ony (thinks Soph,) who e'er abhorred it, That had wherewith, and could afford it? Tho' like a Log he stands, he's thinking, He lives by eating, and by drinking, And finds it so unreasonable, He mayn't eat all that comes to Table; That truth, he may advise him to't, But for his part he'll never do't, Preach till his heart aches, of forbearing, He for his share, will ne'er be sparing; And when he's told 'tis naught for's head, to Lie all the livelong day a-bed so; He fears his Tutor would prevent His having any Nourishment. When Categorematical, A Word, you'd think the Devil and all, But hold!— I think there is another, Should of took place as Elder Brother, 'Tis, let me see, now, whach'ee call, Syncategorematical. Were it Old Nick, enough to mussel him, For all his years, and standing, puzzle him; Soph, when this comes, (as I was saying,) Gins to know the use of praying, Blessing himself, and his Relations, From these, and such like Conjurations; Master Existence, almost mad is, To see one stupid as this Lad is, And i'faith and troth, it is a woe thing, When he need say no more then, nothing You mean by those long words, or something; Then ened the Logger head a Bumpkin: For's pain the Tutor but a looby, To make this hubbub with a Booby; And think, that all his care can do, May alter, what he's born unto: A Fool both bred, and born was he, Was so begot, and so must be; And's Mothered have him so, the rather That in him, she might see his Father. 'Tis not a Tutor's circumspection, Can keep the Blockhead from infection, While the Distempers in his Nature, You must expect him a Man-hater; Being one o'th' Puppies o'th' Nation, Both by descent, and inclination, Following his Noble Ancestors, A company of lazy Curs, Bordering like them, so much on Beast, Loves what's the farthest off the least; Tho's Tutor thinks his over-dulness Comes from his often overfulness, And that his Brains become so muddy, From having Pasties in his Study; But he might lay aside that fear, Can he but find one two days there; But why, not eating do him good tho', By breeding Brains as well as Blood so. No matter, tho' his Tutor jobes him, His Father but the better loves him, Ask, If's Son has got a Punk yet, Whores ye, and gets ye often drunk yet; Being told by's Man, he took him quaffing, For joy he bursts his sides with laughing; And prithee John (says he) and how was't? Ha', drunk'ith ' Cellar, as a Sow, waste? John simpers, makes a Leg, or so; And since his Worships pleased to know, An't like ye, we were something mellow, For I Sir, and another Fellow— The justice growing into a Passion, Cuts him ' i'th' midst of his Relation, Cries, where was your young Master Sirrah? O ho, quoth John— and say— where wor' a, Down in the Cellar too, I wots, But I was so goun, I'd forgot, For I've a lamentable head, 'Specially when I'm cut ' i'th' Leg, But Master, (Sir) need never spare it, Hoa has a pure strung head to bear it; And so ' ud need (Sir for aught I know, Few Scholars are so learned as hoa; I'd give your Worship all my earning, To have hoa's stock (Sir) of Book-learning; Something (Sir,) did my Master say, For I was bend, to bringed away, But I've a plaguee Head-Piece— look now. I have't— 'twas Latin, for the Cook now, Hoa called him Choke us— so't must be, I knew 'twas somewhat of Cookery. Here my Old Master laughs most surely, Tho' John looks all the while demurely; And while he's pleased beyond expression, To understand his Son's Profession; John steals out to the place they wish him, I mean, among the Maids i'th' Kitchen; They'd got there too, young Master's Sister, Her Mother yet not having missed her; They that wasn't there, were very sorry, All longing so to hear John's Story, Of where, and how, and what heaed seen, And in what Colleges heaed been; Thus having made a general Muster, The Men and Maids got of a Cluster, Having all bid him welcome home, John, Bess scatching of her Pate, cries, come John, How does my little Master do? Cries John, no small one, now I trow; Now, should you see'n, you would'nt known, O Ceremony! hoa's hougely grown! Make a brave Man, but given grace; Why, hoa lives in a sweetly place; (Cries Tom,) he made you welcome surely: O ay (cries John,) we revealed purely! Our Tenants feast to that, must nothing's, We purged, as we had dranck at both ends. Count, what came tumbling down our Hoases, Beside what flew out from our Noses; 'Twould make one split one's Guts I swear tho, But for my part it made me stare tho; There's in the Cellar, to my thinking, * At Qutens there is such a Horn, but John's Description is sufficient. A Horn, or something else to drink in, Which being filled full, as it can hold, 'Tis his that drincks it off I'm told; But here's the thing that makes the rout, When you drink deep it flies about, And dout's one's Eyes, and makes one cough, So that one ne'er can tope it off; Such ugly tricks I can't endure, I, For't spoiled the Band Sue vvashed so purely, And all my Bosom fell adown too, When I'd not other Shirt in Town too; And 'cause they'll have no Freshmen there, At first the Scollards salt one's bear; O law! I wished myself at home; It made me spew so; ay (says Tom,) As good a stayed at home and thresh John, And so have ever been a Freshman; And where was this (cries Bess,) at Queens, There Mr. William went it seems, Queens, ay (says John,) as neat a place As could be made to hold her Grace: O ay (cries Tom,) I think I've heard so, The Queen was once a Scholar there too; (Cries John,) 'tis true, from thence it came, That ever since it has her Name. Tom asks, what fine things to be seen, Beside the College of the Queen? (Cries John) a many in the Town: First there's a houge'ous masty * A Tree cut into the shape of a Giant, the Face Alabaster Clown,. As you go into th' Physic Garden, Master ne'er showed me, but I stared in, The Yat's all hung about with whimwhoms, As Fishes Bones, and other thingums: This Giant stands as you come first in, For I took heart at last to thrust in; His Head has got an Iron Cap on, To keep of Showers, or what might happen; His Face is like a Man's, to see to, And yet his Bodies but a Tree too: Strutting, he holds a Club on's Shoulder, Which makes him look more fierce and bolder; And I was told there was another, Which now is * There was two of these, the great Frost destroyed one. dead, and was his Brother: I went on th' other side to eye'n, Not caring much to come to nye'n; Lest with his Club he should be doing; But the Folks said, one might go to him: But for my part, I did not care, To look in's Face he did so stare. There lies a * A great Whale-bone. Tooth, I tell a Fib too,— Some call't a Tooth, but most a Rib do. A vast thing 'tis, what e'er it be, And put there for a Rarity. When you are gone a little further, You happen just on such another; * A Tree cut in the shape of a Crane. A Crane it is, as People tell ye, Grow'ing from a Tree Stalk by the Belly. Whether alive or no's, no knowing, Her Bill touts up, just as if crowing. Well! they all blessed themselves that heard it, How John beheld it, and ne'er feared it; But what they stood the most upon Sir, Was how he slipped by the Man Monster. Which made his Fellow Servants say, John had more mind to Sights than they. But as for Elsabeth, she cried, If I had seen it, I had died. John being wiser, termed them Fools, Well, thence I hobbled to the Schools: Listening (cries John,) to hear a Noise there, But then belike there were no Boys there. For if there had, thereed been a lurry, Such as Dogs make, that Cattle worry. Look ye, the Houses all are Tiled, The Door way's Pitched; I was so foiled With the damned Stones, where one goes, They do so knock, and bump one's Toes. The Schools d'ye mark's a very fair place, With Rooms built round it, but a square place. The Doors all something writ upon, By which there's something may be known. I asked a Scollard that stood leaning, What that was writ for, and the meaning? Hoa told me, that they was— a Tu— d; Now I've forgot it every word. No matter, so much I can tell ye, One may be taught there all things well'y. That * Astronomy School. Schools to learn ye conjuring, * Music School. Tother to Whistle, and to Sing, And how to play upon the Fiddle, To keep the Lads from being idle. But what to greater good amounts, A * Aritbmetick School. School they have to teach Accounts; By which each one may cast up nearly, How many Farthings he spends yearly. A Door I spied was open standing, I budged no farther than my Band in: But by a Scollard I was holp in, A civil Youth, and a well spoken; We went together up the Stair Case, Going, till coming to a * Library. rare place, As thick of Books as one could thatch 'em, And Ladders stood about to reach 'um. On each side were two * Two Globes. round things standing, Made so to turn about with handing: By * Celestial. one they knew, as I am told, When Wether would be hot or cold, What time for setting, and for sowing, When to prune Trees the best for growing; By this they make the Almanacs, And twenty other harder knacks; And 'tis by this they conjure too Man, Knowing a Thief from any true Man. So that you'd think this Devil's in 'em, Goods lost, or stole again to bring 'em; And tho' a good while I have seen it, I ne'er can count you half, that's in it. The * Terrestrial. other thing when round it's whurld, Shows all the Roads about the World, May find if well you look about, There all the Ponds and Rivers out; But that the Schollard was in haste so, Hoa would have shown our House at last too. So I went all about the Meeting, Some People in their Pews were * Scholars at Study sitting. Tho' but a few, here and there one, The Minister not being come; I'll say't, I longed to hear the Preaching, I warran't'ee, ay, 'twas dainty Teaching. I asked a young Youth what it meant, That all them Conjuring Books are chained: Hoa said they being full of Cunning, It seems would else have * Or Stolen. been for running, Before they had them Chains, they say, A number of them run away. There's such an Oceant still, I wondered, How they could miss a thousand hundred. But that indeed again is something, They can know all things by the round thing. As I went on, the * students disturbed. Folk that reads, Would many times pop up their Heads. And douck 'em down (may hap) again, And these are called the Learned Men. And look for all the World as frighted, But were I to be hanged, or knighted, I can't imagine what might ailed 'em, For could they think one would a stealed 'em; Well, by and by, there's one comes to me, I thought the Fellow might have knew me, Hoa said, I must not make a stomping, And that it was no place to jump in; Whop Sir, thought I, and what adoes here, About the Nails that in ones Shoes are; Hoa told me that the Men were earning, A world of something by their Learning, And that a Noise might put them out, So that they ne'er could bringed about. Well, cause hoa made a din about 'um. I daffed my Shoes, and went without 'um. The Fellow ‖ or smiled. gerned, (and cried,) what's that for? (I said,) and what would you be at, Sir? My Shoes I take under my Arm, Rather than do their Worship's harm, Because I would not leave the room, Before the Minister be come. At that, hoa laughed; so for my part, I thought the Fool would break his Heart, I was so mad to see ' n flout ma, I longed almost to lay about ma; But thinking that might there be Evil, I thought ' 'ttwere better to be civil: Tying my Shoes upon my Feet, I went down Stairs into the Street. (Says Betty) well, and prithee John, Of what Religion is this Town? No, no, (Says Tom,) but first let's hear, What else, is to be seen there: No more haste, then good speed, (cries John,) I shall be with you all anon; The next place that I comes you in, Was a most lovely spacious thing, To know the Name, is no great matter, But now I think on't, 'tis the * Theatre. Thatter, The Thatter Yard about beset is, With Holly, and with Iron Lattice, The ends of which, same Bars made fast are, In Posts of Stone or Alabaster, And upon every Posts top, There's an Old Man's Head set up; About there stand a many ‖ Antiquities brought from Jerusal. etc. brave Stones, Which are for all the World like Grave-Stones, I marl why they were carried there! No Folks belike are buried there. The House is round— our Master has, You know, a Round-House in the Close; This is much such another Building, But for the Painting and the Guilding, The leading on the top, and then too, 'Tis twenty times as big again too; A top of all's a little ‖ Cupilo. Steeple, But ne'er a Bell to call the People. Down in the Cellar ‖ Printers. folks are doing Something that makes a world of bowing, Some throw Black Balls, their Heads some throwing, As if they Arseward were a mowing, Stooping a little more to view 'em, They kindly asked me to come to 'em; But look ye (Tom) for here's the thing now, One could not come in at the Window, And for my share, I could no more Fly in the Air, than find the door; A world of Paper there was lying, Besides a deal as hung a drying, They being wet as I suppose, Were hung on Lines, as we hang ; The Folk below began to hollow, Whop, you there, honest Country Fellow; We'll print your Name, What is't I wonder? Says I, one's John (Sir,) t'other Blunder; They bid me walk that way a little, I'd find a door about the middle: Which having found, (said they,) Go in, Not saying any kind of thing; Well, in comes I, where Men were picking, Of little things, that makes a nicking: And hoa that sent me, not to cheat ma, Came up, as I came in, to meet ma; Hoa told me, them small things were Letters, And that the Men themselves were Setters; And so would you think it! why, this same too, Bid one o'th' Fellows do my Name too: And so'a did, and down we went, To have John Blunder put in Prent; And here 'tis for you all to look on't, See, if they have not made a Book on't; Look, Look, (cries Bess,) so 'tis I vow! John Blunder, as I live 'tis so. But hold, let's read the rest on't tho; Let Tom, he's the best Scollard ho: John being just come from Oxford, too Most thought, that best his Name he knew, Having seen how 'twas put together, They knew he could not miss on't neither; So out he read it in a Tune, John Blunder, Oxford Printed June: But coming to the Figures, was (But that Tom helped him) at a loss, Not knowing what i'th' world to do, To know if that was one or two; At last ' 'ttwas found to be One Thousand Six Hundred, Seventy and a dozen. (Says John,) the Printers are such Sots, This bit of Paper cost two Pots, Beside, it cost me two Pence more, To one that sits to ‖ Open. dup all door, That is, quite (as it were) within there, Where one sees all that's to be seen there; So, in went I, with this same Maiden, And not till I come out I paid ' en; It is the finest place, that ever My Eyes beheld, it's wrought so clever: The ‖ The Roof of the Theatre. top's all pictured most completely, Squared into Golden Frames so neatly; Why, there is drawn a power of things, Nay, I dare say, they all are Kings, Dressed up in Silken Garments finely, Some look ye sour, and some look kindly; There's some kiss some, may hap a Drab there, Speaks a Wench fine, she gives a stab there, There's some a fight, ones a wooing, With little Boys a flying to him: There's ‖ Envy. one looks grinning, welle'e mad, With Eels, all done about her Head, She taps Folks till their Blood runs out 'em, With all their Guts hanging about 'em; There's Seats on purpose built (they say there,) For Folks to fit on, they as may there: There is a Gallery made just so, As that is in our Church you know. Bess ask, What there might be done in't? John said, 'Twas built to look upon it, And that the Scollards might at leisure, Sat there, and smoke, and take their pleasure. Says Tom, Those who sit higher up, I warr'ntee care not much to smoke. And so— ay so, says John, (says he,) For them they built the Gallery; That they the better might look up, And mind the Babies at the top, And to say truth, Tom, I had rather, See that, than smoke a month together; So, when I paid, I asked the Woman, Which was the next place to go to, must; She asked me, if I ever was, Oh! such a devilish Name it has, ‖ The Laboratory These ugly hard words vex me more, then— — Well, say it is at the next door then; And there it is, she says, she's sure, There is a world of fine things more, But that the bastard was not willing, To let me in under a Shilling, I swear, I would have given a Groat, To please my mind, with all my heart; But 'cause the plaguy Dog was crass, I turned, and bid ' en kiss mine A—; But being pretty late, and so, And I not knowing where to go, So, I went home, and went to bed, And snored till morning, like one dead; Well, up I gets, and having quaffed, A two quarts mug, my morning Draught; I had a swinging mind to go, And hear the Organs you must know: And Landlord said, as one might hear 'em, At Christ-Church, which was pretty near one, Who e'er knows Oxford, 'tis not far, My Horse being set up at the Star. I thought I'd as good slip o'er one day, Look ye, because this same was Sunday; For my share, I was loath to choose, That day to go a seeking Shows. But, going down to Queens, to see If my Young Master well might be; And passing over ‖ Carfax. Carryfox, Which is the Market place of Ox— Ford, where two little Pigmies stands, Such nimble-twiches of their Hands; Just o'er the place where Folks sell Butter, And with two Hammers keep a clutter; It being their business (so belike,) To knock, when e'er the Clock shall strike, A Bell, that's hung ye so between, That so, they might besure to see'n; Alive, sure as a band, a band is, With Heads no bigger than ones hand is, As long— let's see, if I can tell now,— About as long as from my Elbow, Elsabeth said, She met a Fairy One morning early in the Dairy: Cries John, Just such a one 'twas Betty, Such Folks I vow are very pretty. Why, I've seen too New-Colledge mount, And stood ye a good while upon't; And Maudling walks, and Christ-Church Fountain, A thing that makes a mighty sprounting: Well, Monday comes, and hardly neither, Before I hies me thither; But I found out by People's saying, These Organs would not yet be playing. And that I might go home again, And come and hear 'em just at Ten; By then the Bells had all done ringing, The Folks were come, and set a singing, There's some are fat, and some are lean, And some are Boys and some are Men, But what I'm sure will make you stare, They all stand in their ‖ surpli●ce. Shirts I swear; Here Susan blushed, and John beseeches, To tell, if these all wore no Breeches. Cries John, that one can hardly know, They wear their Linen things so low; Each one when they come in, stand still, Bowing, and wriggling at the Sill; I looked a while, and marked one Noddy, ‖ The Alta Something he bowed to, but no Body, For these and other things as apish, The Town-folks term the Scollards Papish; The Organs set up with a ding, The White-men roar, and White-Boys sing, Rum, Rum, the Organs go, and zlid, Sometimes they squeak out like a Pig, Then gobble like a Turkey Hen, And then to Rum, Rum, Rum again: What with the Organs, Men, and Boys, It makes ye up a dismal Noise; All being over as I wiss, Out come they like a Flock of Geese. The place as I went in at, there A kind of Yat-house, as it were; A top of which a Bell is hung, Bigger than e'er was looked upon, I understood by all the People, 'Twas bigger than our Church and Steeple; At Nine at night, it makes a Bomeing, And then the Scollards all must come in. Now I've told all that e'er I see, Unless the brazen Nose it be, Clapped on a College to grace it, And show, may hap, they're brazen Faced; And there's another thing I think on, The Devil looking over Lincoln; Their Faults besure, he kindly winks on, Tho other Colleges he squints on; A world of pity 'twas, I swear, That our Young Master was not there. Bess willing, yet to be more knowing, Demands what Clothes Scholars go in? For the most part (says John,) they wear Such kind of Gowns as Parsons are; Some Trenchers on their Heads have got, As black as yonder Porridge-Pot; And some have things, exactly such As my Old Gammer's mumbles Pouch, Which sits upon his Head as neat, As 'twere sewed to't by ev'ry Pleat: Some I dare say, are very poor, though They wear their Gowns berent and tore so, Hanging about them all in Littocks, That they can hardly hid their Buttocks. When they want Money, I believes, The Lads are fain to sell their Sleeves, Because they have their stunt of Victuals, And that I'm sure, but very little's; For look ye, many a time I meet, May happen twenty in the Street, With handsome Gowns to look upon, And ne'er a Sleeve to all their Gowns. You know Young Master for a Meater, Was for his Years a handsome Eater; Well, and his Sleeves are gone already, And his was a New Gown too, Betty, And hangs about his Legs in shatters, I swear, ' has torn it all to tatters. I held a jag aloft, to shown, And bid'n let the Tailor sew'n. Hoa laughed, and cried, Why, that's no fault John, Hoa tored, to pass ye for a * Senior. Saltman; But I have sometimes met with some Young Men, may chance with a whole Gown, Holding 'em out as if they'd dry 'em, So that one hardly can get by 'um. Cried Tom, So drunk they could not miss 'em, What nasty Dogs they're to bepiss 'um. Cried John, No, while they have a Gown, They make use of their time to shew'n. Now you have all, let's go to Bed, I well'y long to lay my Head: And John that motion made, because Their Eyes by this time all drew Straws; All thank him round, Sue, Bess, and Tom, And went to Roost all every one. Now John has done his Banbury Story, With no small Pride or little Glory, Beside a lusty Tost and Ale, As soon as he had done his Tale, Which Tale, if you too soon forget it, I vow, I should be strangely fretted; I should not stand so much upon it, But that my Tale depends so on it; That if this John should be left out, I know not how to bringed about: Alas! I should be very willing, To give full forty round broad Shilling, To tell a Tale as well as he, And purchase such a Memory; But 'cause I'd have you think me honest, I shall go back, so as I promised. I think I brought them up to Town, And stayed till all their Coin was gone: Their Needs by this time has bereft 'em, Of the bare scent on't, all I left 'em; By this time, Master has forgot, His Mother's Sweetmeats for a Pot, And the Pack-rider (such another,) Loves a Girl better than his Mother, Being much of a Faculty, In general, they much agree, To scrub all day, a Nut-brown Table, With all the might, as they are able; From hence it is, that some poor Fellows Have so thin Clothing at their Elbows. In this Opinion I am bold, Because the Reason is twofold. For here they spend their Wits and Coin too, In getting nothing, spend their time too; And tho, they take so much Delight To make their Landlord's Table bright, And wear their Gowns and Elbows out, In labouring to bringed about; Seldom their Hostess so befriends 'em, To mend, or pay the Man that mends 'um. Now what will Mother's Honey do, Deprived of and Money too; But send by * Carriers. Basset, or John Hickman, A Line, to make his Friends more quick Man, That he's in a most sad Condition, Worse I believe, than Nick could wish him, And that he wants more Money, so He knows not what i'th' world to do; Hope's they're well, as at this sending He is, and so he falls to ending. Now if his Friends are poor, or witty Enough to fain they're so, or * Close-Fisted. Nitty, For want of Money, to say truth, Most an end makes a hopeful Youth: But those who count by Pocketfulls, Empt them together with their Sculls, To a Hat-full of Head, 'tis fair, If Brains a Thimbleful be there, Enough to practice by a Sample, How they may pass for Scholars ample; In spite of vacant Heads, and Hours, Half Gowns are always Seniors, So halved and jaged, if needs you'll know, If Seniour Soph ' has Gown or no; Looking on's Shoulders, and no lower, Perhaps it may be in your power. When 've been there about a Quarter, Say half a Year, or such a matter, Their Friends think it more orderly To send their Money quarterly; By this time, they have more occasion For Ready, than the poor o'th' Nation, Thinking they better know the use on't, A Peer o'th' Realm is less profuse on't; That Week o'th' Quarter, as they have it, He's damned with them who thinks to save it: Now for that necessary Trick, To book, and score, and run a Tick, For Gown, and Cap, for Drink, and Smoke, And so much more for Ink, and Chalk; Five pound a Coat,— Ink Five more— Ten, Six Bottles,— Chalk as much again; A Glass broke, Six pence— so much more, Because 'twas put upon the Score. And at this rate the Coxcombs run Their Daddies out of House and Home; Those that in Debt, the least may be, Perhaps own Hundreds two, or three, Till fallen downright sick of Duns, Keeps Chamber, till the Carrier comes; The ready Money, when they send it, He must upon his Mistress spend it; And so that very Night he runs To honest Joan of Head— tons, Who brags she has been a Beginner With many an after-hardened Sinner; As to a Book an Introduction's To Vice, so she, and her Instruction's; And since the Doctrine of her Schools Practised, and followed so by Fool's, For prey, in all our Modern Hist'ries, Look me a Fool without a Mistress. Whose part's to set the Gins, and bait 'em, And the snareed Ideot's part, to treat 'em, So Scholars, who do all by Rules, without Example, won't be Fools, And dedicate their ready moneys, To please, and to divert their Honeys; Not, that they're given all to whoring, Some are for honest downright roaring; And quite another sort of Fellows, Love nothing but a noise, and Alehouse: I would not have you here mistake me; I know not how, 'tis you may take me, ne'er think think these Youngsters, by their looks, Will mate their Heads, with silly Books: Which a Cann-Lover minds no more, Then he that loves an ugly Whore, Being none but Ugly in the Town, Since one Mal's dead, and t'other gone; The Lads content are in their Room, To Court a Moppstick, or a Broom, Dressed in a Nightrail, and a Settee, Dear Nancy call it, and their Betty, But then, he makes a hideous quarter, If once ammomered on's Tailor's Daughter; You may then, at the same Church see him, Which Father, Mother, has, and she in Coming out, down he vales his Bonnet, And next day pelts her with a Sonnet; But if she stubborn chance to prove, He makes a Changeling of his Love, And in a strange Poetic Ire, Grows very Smutty, very dire, As sharp as may be, to say truth, Seeing his Muse had ne'er a Tooth; And heretofore, 'twas no great matter, For Teeth to any private satire; But now let each look to his Brawls, And not refered to Generals; Since now, there wants a public Prater, To raise the Hiss, or Hum o'th' Theatre, Such as we took for Owls, and no Men, Who knew not how t' abuse the Women, 'Twas then, no more, but let some Lad, Highly disturbed, and Vengeance mad, Where the Girl gave just cause, or no, Let him, to Terrae Filius go: 'Twas he, knew how to make't appear, As true, as you alive stand there, Wise Sparks, and bold, who durst to tell them, Their Faults, who could, and did expel them. But these mad whipsters, have given o'er now, And lash these, and the Town no more now. The Act, a time they did all this at, Is still a time as much to hiss at, At which time, when so e'er it comes, Wise Men of Gotham, change their Gowns, Which is a kind of Term, d'ye see, I use for taking a Degree. Having had other things to follow, They pray their Chum, or Chamber-Fellow, To help them out to say their part, For want of time to geted by heart; For here the Misery of it lies, When they're obliged to exercise, Which is, they take a Degree, Some Fellow, or what e'er he be; Asks him if things be so, or so, To which he answers ay, or no, And if he happens to say right, He gets ye his Degree, in spite Of Lousy Learning, to which end, Some better Scholar, and his Friend, H'intreats, because he would not miss, To hold his Finger up at Yes; And when his turn comes to say no, To do his finger so, or so. And now no question, but you'll ask How 'tis, they so neglect their Task, Folks can't do all at once, for look, Sir, 've more to do, than con a Book, sure, For Sundays work, it very fare is, To see, who preaches at St. Mary's, Peep in at Carfax Church, to see there, Either who preaches, or what she there: ‖ Sunday. Then, as if troubled with the Squitters, Away they feque it to, St. Peter, When up into the Chancel coming, Which most an end is full of Women, About they strut a while, and seek out, And one vouchsafe at last, to pick out, Or cry; pox, ne'er a handsome Woman: And Preacher being in Prayer Common; They can't a while so long to stay, To see who Preaches there to day: So, in their way down to St. Giles, For more dispatch, they take St. Miles, 'Cause they're obliged, Church be done, To thrust their Nose in every one; Which makes them run, and-sweat, and Blurry, And puts them in the deadliest hurry, For 'tis you know, a Common saying, Business admits of no delaying. When coming to the Quaker's Meeting, Where some are standing, some are sitting, Eyes shut, with open Mouths, some lunging, Amidst the Brotherhood, they scrunge in, Approaching of a handsome Sister, With her Eyes closed, make bold to kiss her; Which moved her Spouse, but never moved her, Taking him for a Friend that loved her; But her Friend John, supposed that he, Bestowed no Kiss of Charity; Which made his Guts for madness, wamble, Friend (says he) giving him a jumble, Do thou, I say, let her alone, Or else, 'twere better thou wert gone; Do so, in thy own Steeplehouse, And not in other People's House. To which the Scholar answers, rat it, What makes the Fellow so mad at it. He wonders what the Quaker thinks on't, 'Twas done to her, and still she winks on't. But Quack slips out to tell the Proctor, How Scholars kissed his Wife, and mocked her; At our Assembly, hard by here, The Young Men still (I'm sure) are there; So I made haste to come to thee, That thou mightst come thyself and see: Since 'tis thy business to protect 'em, Prithee do thou therefore correct 'um. After this Speech the Proctor coming, Sets all the Crew of Roisters running, And upon all he lays his Hands, He either takes them or their Gowns; And he's glad on't with all his heart, Who gets off with his Gown in part, Not being a thing accounted shameful, To have's Gown lessened by a handful, Since all the punishment and shame Light's only on the Fools, are ta'en; Like Birds, put in a Cage to whistle, Unless they patch up an Epistle, Toth' Proctor, for the which he looks, Monday. Besure in every one, one's Books, Fills his Head, full as ere't can hold, Because e'er long they must be sold; Thrumming out several scraps of Latin, As like as Dowlas is to Satin: An expeditious way, and better Then make of his own head, a Letter, Or wanting Books to tumble o'er, He gets a Letter made before; Hackney Epistle to the College, For those who have but little knowledge; No sooner this the Proctor sees, But his offence he straight forgives, For joy of which, he roars most deadly, And sails that afternoon to medley, Near half a mile, or such a matter, It lies as you go down the Water; A place at which they never fail, Of Custard, Cider, Cakes, and Ale, Cream, Tarts, and Cheesecakes, good Neat's Tongues, And pretty Girls to wait upon's. Scholars by right in studying Hours, Or should not late be out of Doors, But having found with how much ease, At worst the Proctor they appease, And long this, and for the future, Knowing how to satisfy their Tutor. Some Country Stranger, or a Brother, Some Friend Relation or another, Being come to Town only to stare, Will be a Week or Fortnight here; And he can do no less, than go Sometimes to wait on him, or so, Treat him, go with him up and down, At least, and show him all the Town: That he at home might tell a Story, O'th' Theatre and Labo'ratory. And ever when one Strangers gone, Besure they'll have another come; And than you know, it would be evil, If they to Strangers be uncivil; And then sometimes their Father sends, Or else some other of their Friends, (They say,) a Letter of Attorney, Praying them to take a little Journey, To such a Town near two hours going, To take some Money they have owing; The Postscript runs, Dear Son or Cousin, Make haste to go, or else you'll los'en. When Tuesday comes, he's up by Noon, Tuesday. Lest Douson's dancing should be done, 'Cause he'd be there, he very fairly Forsakes his Bed so very early. Tho he sat up the Night before, To smoke his Bed— mat, for the Door By Nine, is always so fast shut, That no Soul living can get out. As for Tobacco he'd forgot it, Tho ev'ry Night he used to sot it, And so was fain to do as of could, Because he could not do as he would. And truth, they care not one should know it, But they're as poor as any Poet: Fortune, that Enemy to sense is, She makes Fools poor for bare Pretences. And though to smoke they're so Delighted, They want wherewith to Pot and Pipe it, And so all Night, They and their Chums, Sat whiffing Straws till morning comes; And then betake them to their Beds, And lie till Four to ease their Heads: But being obliged to come to Prayers, Whipping the Surplice o'er their Ears; At Six some places, some at Ten, To Prayers, that done, to Bed again. Wednesday being come six Hours ago, Wednesday. He's up, and say, he's ready too; Forsooth, he risen that day so rare, Because he'd take the Country Air. Perhaps some Fools rise more betimes, And meet with but unwholesome Rhymes, Which for the World they would not go in, From Letters Scholars are so knowing; Now for their way of going a shooting, Sometimes a Horseback, sometimes Footing: Approaching some Lone House, or Cottage, Reaking with Bacon, Herbs and Pottage, ne'er knock, but bawl out, Who's within there?— Who's there?— two or three come to dine here. Then Jenny coming out in Kersey, Makes to the Gentle Folks a Curtsy; Her Mother calling from within, Jane, bid the Gentlefolk come in; In they come, Welcome by her Troth, Who freely sets them all she hath; Glad in their hearts, that Folks so brave, Will please to eat all they have. Can you eat in a homely Tray? You're welcome all as I may say. 've done, but having other Butts, Beside the stuffing of their Guts. Jane going for tother Pot of Ale, They seldom of a flitching fail; The Mother sometimes going after, To wring the Tap in for her Daughter, The while they get it from the rack, And take their leaves when she comes back, The good Wife vexing, can't but think, 'Tis strange they would not stay, and drink! But then she's in a woeful taking, When once she comes to miss her Bacon. But she's in as much woe again, For losing of her speckled Hen; The Scholars, as for their parts, they Go home rejoicing in their Pray; And at the very next Farmer's door, Shoot two or three Ducks, and Pullet's more; Thus being provided of good Victles, Their next care is to wet their Whisles, Contriving where 'twere best to seat 'em, And of the best way to defeat 'em; Because as I before was saying, 've bitterly against all Paying; So having called for what they will, And yauld, and sung, and drunk their fill; Going forth as to untruss a Point, They run their Legs near out of Joint, Till they have reached the Town again, And some such other * Alehouse. bousing Ken, Playing a world of pretty Knacks, As oft as People turn their backs, Melt the Folks Flagons, burn their Bellows, Then sear a loft their Names ' i'th' Alehouse. And in their Breeches put their Candles, The Snuffers and the Flagon handles. Next Morning raging Hostess comes To's Chamber door with other Duns: Thursday. There's such a din and such a drumming, As if the King of France was coming: As if their Business were to keep him And all the College too from sleeping. Then sometimes hold their hands for cunning, And lend an ear to hear him coming; Because if he should think them gone, He would peep out twenty to one. Their patience tired, to't they go, Run dan, tara run, clutter to quo. Are you within, Sir, Mr. Snear— Yes that he is, and knows who's there, Knows all your Voices, great and small, And to the Devil sends ye all. Casting an Eye, first through a Chink, One of his Neighbours fitting think, To open gingerly the door, Because he is not very sure, But that some Ambuscade might fire, Before the neatly could retire, Having by this judicious care, Perceived the Coast all round him clear, That every individual , His Neighbours are, and not his own; He with a Noble Courage speaks, And to them thus his mind he breaks, Sirs, if you'd speak with Mr. Snear, You must not think to find him there; He went abroad Three hours ago, And goes out every morning so; But Sir, though now he b'ened within, Pray when, d'ye think, he will come in? When he goes out by three or four, He comes not in till ten, or more: Because his business will not let him, I wonder that you never met him: If with him you'd so fain of spoken, You should come e'er the Gates are open. They thank him for his gracious Speeches, And then toward him turn their Breeches, Going their ways, take't for a warning, To come more early the next Morning. Now Snear released thus of his Cares, Tells all his Duns down all the stairs. Before he's very sure he's safe, He dare not wry his Mouth to laugh. Truly, there comes a deal of good, From Fellowfeeling Neighbourhood! Tother comes to Congratulate, With him the goodness of his Fate, Who through the Keyhole looks to see him, And asks if there no more be we'him, Assured he's Solus, to be short, Comes boldly out, and thanks him for't. But now it being dinner time, They venture to the Hall to dine, Where Baxter, one that lets out Horses, Comes, hoping to repair his Losses; And being wiser than the rest, Thinks there to find his Debtors best, Who mind their Cramming, but not so, But 've an Eye for such a Foe, Contriving, Dinner done, to tumble Together, all out in a Bundle; Deceiving thus his Vigilance; Who to repair this great mischance, Setting up's Throat, gins to hollow it, Sir, Sir, why Sir, there, Mr. Shallow-wit; But as for Mr. Shallow-wit, he Has more wit, than to hear or see, So in the Crowed, away he goes, And nothing of the matter knows: Creditor doubts if that might be him, Or else concludes he did not see him; And since 'tis so the bubbled , Contented as he can, goes home. 'Twere to be wondered why the Townsmen, Have so much foolish Faith for Gowns-men, But here the Mystery of it lies, These seeming Fools, are truly wise, For if they can by all their come To Hall, and Chambers, all their dunnings, Their horrid threats, that for the future, They'll come no more, but tell their Tutor. Or of some piece of Merriment, To tell the Head, or Precedent. If by these Arts he clears one score, He can sustain the loss of four: And he that to be honest chooses; In paying, pays him all he loses. So that the Trader might afford it, To lose the rest, and never word it; But that your Merchants ever love, Something to gain o'er and above. Always when once 'tis Afternoon, Duns with the Colleges have done; And Scholars looking well about, With caution, venture to go out; For many times it happens so's, I'th' very face to meet their Foes: With Sir, you know you own me, for Maintaining of your Spotted Cur; I'm sure, I bought him as good Meat, As any Christian, Sir, could eat: If there's in Man any Belief, I always fed the Whelp with Beef; A deal of Money, I disbursed so, And Money going out of Purse so— I'd asked your Tutor, but to stay me, You said, that you'd next Quarter pay me, Alas I'm a poor Man, that you know, And yet you'll never pay me too. The Sparks so thunderstruck at this, He hardly can tell what he is, Protests to Harry, he is willing To pay, bids him, here, take that shilling, Being all he has now in his Pocket, As for his Chest he can't unlock it, Because he has either spoiled his Key, Lost it, or laid it out o'th' way; And says, when e'er he comes for the rest, He'll pay him, or he'll break his Chest. These words give Harry Satisfaction Beyond th'event, or threatened Action; Who fancies in this Chest a Mint, When there is ne'er a penny in't. Therefore to shun such Brunts as these, Scholars in walking cross the Ways, ne'er grudging Shoe-leather, or ground, For more convenience circled round, And many times set up a running, And all for fear of Duns, and dunning; Let their Walk for Example this be, To Weavers School, from Corpus Christi: Through Christ-Church, Penny-farthing Street, Where there lives none he fears to meet; His way down by St. Thomas lies, And so he slips by Paradise, And falls to running there from going, Lest any should come out as know him, Because he owes them for his Custard, Nor paid yet for his Tongue, and Mustard; Tho once being took, he made a promise. From Castle-Bridge, up from St. Thomas: Thro Bullocks-Lane, unsight, unseen, He's like a spirit in Glouster-Green, From thence he goes out by St. Giles', And through the Fields which near a mile is, Yet by then twenty you could tell, He's arrived safe in Holy-well; And when you're come about the middle, You may know Weavers by the Fiddle; A Boarding, and a Dancing School, Where People learn to go by Rule, And 'tis high time he there should be, It being something now past Three; To be there's, of concern as much To him, as going is to Church, Going to see, more than to hear, The very same as he does there; Dancing being done, and Dangers past, He gets to's College safe at last: He might by much a nearer way found, That is, by Maudlin's, and the Greyhound, And missed the Town as well; but there's So deeply plunged o'er head and ears, The very Signs enough to fright him, Lest the cursed Dog in it might by't him. Next day, when all the House is snoring, Friday. Besure his Duns are up before him, As if their Souls made up one Song, The Stairs as by Agreement throng, And so harmoniously each one Raps at his Door as in his turn; Thou met; but one of all those Fools there, Knows what the benefit of Shools be; He was that one, who sure as can be, Missing a Bottle of lovely Brandy, And being in a world of Dolour, And finding out this worthy Scholar; Both too alone, for only saying, That he desired that he would pay him; Threatened for Payment was with Pumping, And put to save himself by jumping O'er a Wall, might break his Neck, To keep his Back from being wet. 'Tis so unsafe for any , To ' accost a Scholar all alone; At many, though he looks so leering, He'll make a single one to fear him: As I before said, I say here, 'Tis well they are enough for Snear, Beating his Door, they keep him waking, And spoil his Peace, as well as Napping. Here was his Shoemaker, and Tailor, His fiery Hostess, Mrs. Railer; And Drawers shaking off their Noddles, For losing of their Wine and Bottles; And a kind Girl beside, who had Made him a Twelvemonth since a Dad; Good reason why she came to seek him, For something towards the Infants keeping, Among the Crowd for Payment whining, was she that used to make his Linen; Where grumbling an Old Gardner stood, Who lost his Hedge for Firewood: Beside his Rake, his Hoe, and Shovel, And half the Faggots off his Hovel; And Countrymen, amidst all these, For losing Turkeys, Hons, and Geese; Mercury was there, who on the wing, goes To make him pay for's Ladies Windows; And in his hand he bore a Ticket, Demanding reason why he broke it? His. Landress having all his Linen, Need never Dun, or go to Spinning, Washing, because he's fain to pay for't, He seldom wears but half a Day-Shirt, At first she'll chop, and change, and choose 'em, And dextrously at last she'll lose 'em, Nor by this most ingenious way, Can hardly get up half her pay; His Bedmaker whilst at the Alehouse, For Pay can seize his Bed and Pillows, And for that Reason is more cunning, Then to bestow the pains to dun him. The Dunners having hinted been, Friday. That Mr. Snear was now within, Were fully bend for very spite, To stand all at his Door till Night, And by so close a Siege go nigh they, To make him truly fast his Friday; No longer able to sustain it, No more than's Father to maintain it: Snear vows to morrow he'll be going, From all the Noise of Money owing; For Scholarship he here forswears it, And takes his tattered Gown, and tares it. And now his restless Duns are gone, He takes his farewell of the Town, Meeting at Midnight with the Proctor, With less concern then if a Doctor, Not only very boldly meets him, But to return his Question, beats him; Which having done, as fast he runs, As when he used to meet his Duns: And in his Flight, breaking his Shin, now's Fully revenged on the next Windows; In which Sport when his hand is in, He lays about like ●ny thing, Roaring, and hallowing down the Streets, Sweats to knock down the next he meets. Wallowing all Night in such Abuses, Nor studies for next days Excuses, Knowing he shall complete his Sport At home, or at the Inns of Court, 'Cause I'm not willing to suppose here, Our Teachers ever such as those were. The Day now coming on a new, Saturday. Wherein he bids the Town adieu, Having no encouragement to tarry here, Sends for his Wardrobe by the Carrier. Now free at liberty and peace is, Secure, unasked, goes where he pleases, Here cruel Duns, nor feared expulsion, Can shake his Soul to a Convulsitn, Bearing the Learning off, he's free From all the Plagues o'th' ‛ Versity. No Caesars ●ose lamented more yet, Then where he used to book and score it; The Tears of Mothers, and of Du●●, Hers for lost Children, theirs for Sums, More unconstrained are, and true, Then those I shed in this Adieu. FINIS. ADVERTISEMENTS. THE Secret Intrigues of the French King's Ministers, at the Courts of several Princes, for the Enslaving of Europe. With Reflections on the Interest of those Princes. qto. price 1 s. Buchanan's Detection of Mary Queen of Scotland, concerning the Murder of her Husband. Quarto price 1 s. The Right of the People over Tyrants, by John Milton. Quarto, Price 6 d. Some Modest Remarks on Dr. sherlock's Case of Allegiance, etc. Quarto. Price 6 d. All four sold by Randal Taylor.