THE DIARIUM, OR journal:  
Divided into 12. Jornadas IN Burlesque rhyme, OR Drolling Verse, With divers other pieces of the same Author.  HOR. Risum undique, & undique quaerit. 
LONDON, Printed for Henry Herringman at the sign of the Anchor in the lower walk of the New-Exchange. 1656.   

To all true lovers of Mirth and wit.  
TO you, as to the only few, I dedicate this Book, for there are not many so wise and happy now adays. You neither thinking harm, nor doing any, and so have the less done to you, whilst those who always trouble others and themselves, never want others to trouble them again, and so live wretchedly and miserably all their lives.  
Let us do then in these times as I have seen the wiser sort of passengers do in Holland ships, when the weather has been a little foul, get under hatches, and make ourselves as merry as we can, whilst for those busy bodies, who will needs be talking and meddling above decks, I have seen the skipper with a good ropes end sometimes, courteously entreat them to go down and not trouble them.  
Mean time thou Mayst entertain thyself with this, which I desire thou wouldst be so charitable to believe, is no part of my Study, but my Recreation, written chiefly to divert the grief and melancholy of a certain illustrious personage, too much pressing & oppressing her noble mind, and that in as few days (almost) as 'tis divided into Jornadas, with only the allowance of some small time for the polishing it, which I have not done so accurately; but thou Mayst well perceive, I affect not these, difficiles nugae, or studied toys: however, if you like it, I care not, for your dull melancholy people, who never laughed since the King's death; and relish jests as Horses do Italian salads, and French Ragouts. If they like it not, let them take hellebore.  
Farewell, and laugh, and be merry.   

To the Reader.  
BEtwixt Poetry & Painting there is near relation, Poetry being but a speaking Picture, as Painting a silent Poem. So have you Poets and Painters excellent in their several kinds. For your Virgil, or heroic Poet, a Raphael, and Titian. For your Horace, or Lyrique, a Holbeen, and Vandick, representing particular persons to the life; as for your Burlesque, or Drolling Poem, a Brughel, and (in his kind) Callot, representing Grotesque & fantastic figures. In which way there has been fewer excellent than in any other, as being the most witty and ingenious, your other putting you too much on the gravity, to be always witty, and having somewhat else to sustain the dignity of the person when that fails; but here wit is all, which failing once, the work presently falls flat, and the Author has nothing left for his support, whose part 'tis to sustain the matter, and not the matter him.  
Of this kind is the Poem I present thee here, which when its figures are lively, and representations natural, is one of the delightfullest of all; where note, that as nations grow more polite and witty, they fall upon this strain, it being the luxuriant branches of a flourishing language, and the very interior of it, beyond the access of vulgar wits, whither (as in China) no stranger can arrive. So your Dutch, and more Northern nations, could never get past Jack puddings, or Pickle-herrings, stale jests yet, which none but Beer brewers can laugh at, whilst your severest Statesmen, and refinedst Wits can laugh at these.  
That I use some broad words sometimes, 'tis but conform to the pattern I imitate: Brughel representing, without any dishonesty, here a Boor shiting, there a Boorinne pissing, to render the vulgar more ridiculous ●are properly the subject of ridiculousness) and whose follies, abuses, and vices, are properly the subject of satire: for the rest never was Indian contriving feathers intopicture, more careful of their shadows, than I not to give umbrage unto any, who reverence Authority, honour all noble Persons, and especially am a devoted servant unto Ladies; yet to think to satisfy all objections, were to think to peel a Bulbus root to its last rind, or sweep an Earthen floor to its last grain of dust, especially here, where they understand railing, far better than Raillery. Now if you ask me why I prefix not my name to this, as well as to my other works: besides, that I count it the slightest of them all, 'tis because those I printed only to communicate to my private friends, but intending to make this more public, and hating to have my name lie glaring on booksellers stalls, I have purposely suppressed it here; yet so, as I care not (for satisfying thy curiosity) to take thee aside from the Title-page, & tell thee my name is Richard Fleckno.   

Postscript.  
To go currently and smoothly on, be pleased to correct the errors of the press, by the Errata at the end.   

Entrance into Style.  
BEing Diarium to write,  
Whose Genius shall I invite?  
Or of whose Muse invoke the favour  
To assist me in my Labour?  
Greek Aristophanes, or Plautus  
In Latin, where not many a fault is,  
Or in Spanish of Cervantes,  
Excellent in's way I grant is,  
Or of Scarron 
* For so he calls himself the Queen's Sickman.  le Malade,  
Best yet France has ever had;  
Or Secchia Rapita's Author,  
In Italian has no fault there,  
Or our English Doctor Smith,  
Whose muse so bonny is, and blithe,  
Or, in fine, of Sir John Mennis,  
For excellence yieldeth not to any's:  
Faith, once I'll trust unto my own,  
For trifling yieldeth unto none.   


I. jornada.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
1. The humour of Gravesend Watermen. 2. The spirit o'th' Fish wives of Billingsgate. 3. The Towns complain, and Cripples. 4. The nature of your ordinary town-visits. 5. And abuse of the Beggars.  

1. FRiday the twentieth of September,  
(if day o'th' month I well remember)  
(I know not well what time o'th' day)▪  
I towards Gravesend took my way,  
Being for London to take boat,  
Where waterman in Livery coat,  
Does in boat, as pig in sty,  
Invite ye in fresh straw to lie;  
Where you all sorts of passengers,  
Shall encounter on the stairs;  
And where of Company there's none fails,  
To meet with Tag, and Rag, and longtail.   

Mean time, good sport it was to hear,  
How watermen would jibe and jeer:  
Has gotten now new way of jeering,  
Not ungrateful to the hearing;  
And Rogue and rascal is no more  
Their Dialect as 'twas before.  
Here none of them but had the art  
To call his Father Knave by craft;  
And all of them for th' nonce were made,  
If imperfection ought you had,  
To make it more ridiculous,  
By their jesting at it thus:  
They'd tell an ill-looked fellow, he has  
Robbed Jack-an-apes, and stolen his face,  
And wryneck they would ask with laughter,  
What news 'twas he was harkening after?  
Long nose, they'd say, was good to make  
Handle for Jaques; and for Crook-back,  
If all trades failed (quoth they) he wooed  
At least for Ape-carrier be good.  
In fine, nothing from head to foot,  
But somewhat th've to say unto't,  
So witty, as (would you should know it)  
'T might well beseem their Water-poet:  
But principally he does glory  
In telling of you bawdy story,  
Which if any woman's there  
He addresses still to her,  
And you must laugh at, or you spoil  
His story, and himself the while.   

2. To Billingsgate now as we came,  
We soon perceived waterman  
To fishwife was for railing fool,  
And well might go to her to school;  
Each one being so learned there,  
She might be doctress of the chair,  
Or ducking-stool; and though o'th' Tribe,  
But few were well knew how to jibe,  
Yet all knew well to scold outright  
‛ Alarum to th' ensuing fight,  
Where each one did on each one fall,  
And all were enemies to all.  
Now on aboard the ships, like Edgar,  
Triumphs there, and off goes head gear,  
While she with Elf-locks 'bout her ears,  
Just like Medusa's head appears.  
Instead of turning you to stone,  
Throwing stones at every one;  
Tother with saveguard off, as troubled,  
As ere was dancing Dog in doublet;  
In torn smock, with small compliance,  
Denounces unto all defiance▪  
There over and over one does come,  
Lighting by chance upon her bum;  
Others more expert, just like Cats  
Always light upon their pats;  
Amongst whom there was such stink  
Of fish, but more of them you'd think,  
Who talk of stink of Paris garden,  
For wronging it should ask its pardon.   

Whence, whosoever thither goes,  
Thanks God for all, but ears and Nose,  
And above all, thanks him for feet,  
As we did to get out of it.   

Hence we by Water passing London,  
Found poor new Town almost undone,  
With banishment of Cavalier,  
Crying out, pity 'twas to hear.  
" O Proclamation! Proclamation!  
" That thou wouldst use us in this fashion,  
" To take away from's all, our guest!  
" Thou might'st have left us some at least;  
" And houses not have left so poor,  
" They're forced to wear bill on door.  
" Just as old Armenian there,  
" Bill upon his breast doth wear.   

" But thou no more pitiest poor people,  
" Than Anabaptist does Paul's steeple,  
" Or Scotch Presbyterian does  
" Fall of Cheap, or Charing-cross,  
" Yet glad we are thou dost begin,  
" Tattered to grow on door of inn;  
" Whilst with thee here one lights his pipes,  
" Another backside with thee wipes:  
" Sign (as 'tis every one's desiring)  
" Thy date is very nigh expiring;  
" Unless unto our mickle pain  
" Thou chance to be renewed again,  
" With the States and Councils hand for't,  
" When good-night Lodgers, good-night Landlord.   

Among the rest; the Captain Beggar  
Of Train-band has never a leg there.  
In Lincoln fields, and Covent garden,  
Scorning for to take a farthing,  
Or ask Alms for God's sake either,  
Clubbing wooden legs together.  
Often drinks a health (in tears  
Of can) unto the Cavaliers.   

Here straight as we arrived be,  
Visits I made me two or three,  
With reverence not very comely,  
And compliments indeed as homely;  
As for example;" How do you do?  
" Well I thank ye, How do you?  
" Better for to see you well;  
" What a clock is't? can you tell?  
" The Sun these three days has not shone▪  
" I pray now how doth such a one?  
" I hope 'tis for your ease, you put  
" Not on your hat? O Lord 'tis but  
" My duty: as of such like stuff,  
Town-visits do afford enough:  
And well if theyare so innocent,  
Are now adays for most part spent  
In detraction, and in lies,  
In slanders and in calumnies,  
Reciprocally by their tongues,  
Doing one another wrongs;  
So th' subtle net of Envy's wrought,  
In which so many souls are caught,  
And brand of hatred's tossed about  
Uncessantly, that ne'er goes out;  
Which being now the common style,  
Where's Christian charity the while?  
Then taking of collation light,  
To lodging I returned at night;  
Link boy lighting of me home,  
That beggar's trade is now become  
As switches upon highway is,  
And Brooms in street where dirty 'tis;  
None giv●ng alms for God's sake now,  
Nor none indeed ere asking't you,  
Excepting Gentleman or twain,  
Ready for to starve again:  
But all have trades, and who have none,  
For need can offer at Buffoon;  
Talk madly, tell you bawdy story,  
Or in some vice, or other glory:  
Whence, being none are truly poor,  
Charity we see no more.  
And after good works Faith being gone,  
Hope, with Presumption, left alone,  
Is even gone too, so as (in fine)  
Such is the misery o'th' Time.  
Of virtues now w'have left no more  
But Patience, virtue of the poor.    

II. jornada.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
1. The strange Company in Towns. 2. The ill breeding of their Children. 3. And nature of the Men. 4. The Hollanders neatness, with other Occurrences, and a politic Discourse on the French Peace.  

1. NExt morn, new Suit I on did say,  
No matter who does Taylor pay,  
For who would charge their memories  
With dribbling reckonings, such as these?  
When they are sure (when least they mind them)  
They in written Books shall find them;  
Then shoemaker being come with shoes,  
Abroad I went to hear what news;  
When, as I walked in the street,  
I not a face I knew did meet,  
But such strange physiognomies  
As they were dropped from the skies:  
(And that may be, as we see plain,  
By Paddocks after-shower of Rain)  
As sailor's wives in Coaches, and  
Prentices along the strand,  
Whilst their plodding Master's walking  
In Spatterdashes, or dark Stocking,  
And shining shoe, he sees his face  
As well in, as in looking-glass,  
With scarce a Gentleman the while,  
Appearing within twenty mile.   

2. Only the dirty children there,  
Same things are still they ever were,  
Calling Rogue, and Whore, and Bastard,  
Then cuffing (or they're counted Dastard)  
Till one or other always goes  
With blue eye thence or bloody nose;  
While Parent by doth stand and smile,  
Encouraging them in't the while.   

Mean time what would th' Italian say?  
Bring up their children soon as they  
Are born, to make their legs, and kiss  
Their hands, with their your signories,  
At every word, to show their buon'  
Greanza by't to every one:  
Should they behold their breeding here,  
(Good enough, if worse it were.)   

3. But much more would they amazed be,  
Frequently in street to see  
Men shoulder and justle one another,  
As they had father killed, or mother,  
Ravished sister, or had been  
Destruction of all their kin:  
And look as stern and furious on'um,  
As they had ruined and undone them;  
With as much glory and delight:  
Doing them mischief and despite  
Whom before they'd never seen,  
As deadly Enemies they'd been.  
These needs must gain fine Reputation,  
Of Civility to the Nation;  
And Fame o'er all the world again,  
O'th' courtesy of English men.   

From thence I went to Berkshire house,  
Was wont to be as still as Mouse,  
And wondered much, such noise to hear,  
And find your Hoghen Moghens there;  
When what was't? but not long before,  
'Twas hired by Dutch ambassador.  
Neither I think wi●l house or garden  
Much repent them of his bargain   

4. For I was told that Dutch were neat,  
And into back side still would get.  
To do that business which the French,  
In house would do (matter for stench)  
While Portugees were such foul slovens,  
They'd do't in Chymnyes and in Ovens.   

For as of Hounds are several breeds,  
Some in Chambers do their needs:  
Orher some again do scummer  
In Hall, or else in parlour somewhere;  
And others out of doors do go  
Into Yard, or backside; so  
You among Nations have likewise,  
Men of several faculties  
In shiting, 'mongst whom we may call,  
Dutch neatest shiter of them all.   

As witnesses his Mussel shells  
You find in Holland, where he dwells;  
Piled up as Pewter is in kitchen,  
In house of office that he shits in.   

Which more is to be wondered at,  
Since Hans is corpulent and fat;  
Laxative turnip great devourers,  
And every way the greater scourers.  
Whence, I dare swear, with any two  
Nations, eat Roots but as they do,  
They'll shit not only, upon even  
Hand, but shall give them two in seven.   

O neatness, neatness! for thy sake,  
This discourse so long I make;  
Rose of houses, and of street,  
And as that of garden, sweet.  
With fragrancy the nose delighting,  
Even of Hollander in shiting.   

Blessing on that breech of thine,  
Maketh such good meat for swine;  
And blessing on the swine again,  
Maketh such good meat for men!  
Here having talked and laughed, and so forth,  
I'bout eleven from thence did go forth  
Towards Chelsey, to a noble friend,  
Liveth there (nigh hither end.)  
For I know 'twould cause your laughter,  
To say 'twas to woo Mayern's daughter,  
Though by it I might chance dismount  
Your French Lord, and your German Count.  
There I having dined, forthwith,  
By water went to Hammersmith,  
Where I found them yet at board,  
All varieties did afford,  
Served in with such elegance,  
As th've been Italy or France,  
And with such Frontineak met there,  
Old King James did ne'er drink better,  
Worth the whisper in the ear,  
If Toby Mathews had been there,  
Specially the Ragouts and salads,  
Excellent for curious palates;  
Which your honest country Knight,  
Does compared to Mutton slight;  
Your dull Squire, that nothing knows,  
But Beef and Bacon, calls Kick-shaws;  
And Farmer swears with Country-clown,  
Pudding for meat quite puts it down,  
While nothing that had but the name  
Of wine, amiss unto them came,  
The very name of't being enough  
To make them count it excellent stuff;  
Though with Matheglin Sack were made,  
And French wine dash of Cider had,  
Or't had but Aqua vitae's heat,  
It excellent was unto their meat;  
So't seemed that wine was only doomed  
For their palates to be stumed:  
Brownbread spirits, whose dull flat palate,  
Not a thought is elevated,  
Nor heightened 'bove the pitch it was  
At, in their old forefather's days,  
Happy if th' same tenacity,  
Th've had o'th' faith and honesty,  
As of their father's clownishness,  
Which yet to this day they profess;  
And here first I heard the news,  
(Did me not so much amuse)  
That peace with us and France was made,  
I was nor sorry for, nor glad,  
Who for my part do not care  
With whom we have or Peace or War;  
Farther than dangerous consequence  
Of wanting wine, may follow thence.  
For if we've peace with France, we Claret  
Shall have (I hope none will debar it)  
And whensoe'er we have peace with Spain,  
I hope we shall have Sack again.   

However yet I should be loath,  
At same time to have war with both;  
For fear o'th' dangerous consequence,  
Indeed, might chance to follow thence.  
When we in making war with either,  
Should have nor Sack nor Claret neither:  
Both which that night I drank at Kew,  
Where bras dessous, and bras dessus,  
I welcomed was, and lodged in Chamber,  
With Curtains yellow as any Amber.    

III. jornada.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
The description of a ridiculous Congregatio●● 1. The Place. 2. The Auditors. 3. And t●● Teacher.  

SUnday newt morning being come,  
Those who would, might stay at home,  
And those who would, to Church might go,  
For none force here does ever know,  
Only when dinnertime was come,  
As well those who stayed at home,  
As those who to Church did go,  
Must dine then where they would or no.   

That done, to Thistleworth I went,  
Service straightway to present  
To noble company was there,  
Where near highway I might hear  
A Dipper of the newest cut,  
Who had Congregation got,  
So ridiculous, as I  
Cannot but describe it t'ye.   

At Thistleworth, if I don't miss,  
Weekly Congregation is,  
Where Architecture is not wholly  
Of Vitruvius nor Vignoli,  
Nor Michael Angelo at all,  
Had hand in structure of the wall;  
You'd think it the Rotunda were,  
But that was round, and this was square,  
Being in form (you might discern)  
Betwixt a Chamber and a Barn,  
So narrow, one does thrash a Cock,  
Has not room to strike a stroke,  
They sitting (as in Oven heat)  
In summer stewing all with sweat,  
And chimneyed had to keep them hot  
In winter, when their zeals would not;  
Above it had no Cupillo,  
Though wind from thence through tiles did blow,  
Nor Musaick pavement more  
Than father Adam's earthen floor;  
Window it had for to give light  
To any that had eyes to see't.  
And at the higher end a Pulpit  
That would not dung if it were full shit;  
Garden for cucumbers in pickle,  
For half the holy Conventicle,   

2. For Auditors you by their features,  
Would imagine them God's creatures;  
But by physiognomies, they had  
The sillyest ones as e'er he made,  
Each one there looking so demurely,  
As they had got the Colique surely,  
Or some such symptom had did make  
Men look as th''ve the belly-ache.  
For men in clothes, some old, some new,  
Not many beards you there should view,  
For fear (perhaps) lest some should twit  
Them, that they had more hair than wit.  
jerkins wear some, but Cloaks not many,  
And for socks and cuffs not any,  
Mary for stockings, two at least  
They had a piece, but all were pieced;  
And for the rest it was no news,  
To say they all wore cobbled shoes.   

Now of young Maidens were good store  
But of good Wives were many more;  
Amongst the rest a bouncing Hostiss,  
Whose leg as big as any post is,  
And flank and buttock just as Hogshead,  
Living there hard by a dog's head  
And porridge▪ pot. And as for her,  
She well could lie, but could not swear,  
And of neighbours talk but oddly;  
If they were not of the godly;  
Sip she would too, somewhat deep,  
When they Gossipping did keep,  
And all good qualities had beside,  
Of Holy Sister can't abide  
'T have aught to do with man of sin,  
Whilst godly might do any thing,  
And talk o'th' Spirit what you will,  
Flesh she would have enough of still,   

She somewhat straight laced now good heart  
Grievously sighing let a——  
When one in curtsying bid God bless her  
As she had sneezed, nor was there lesser  
Stink, and Devotion 'mongst the rest,  
Their breath all smelling strong at least,  
But seeing (more's the pity) all,  
Under prospect cannot fall:  
As in pictures where the chief  
Persons appear, in bas relieve,  
Whilst your less important are,  
Shadowed to be seen afar,  
'Tis fit at least that I describe,  
Who was chief▪ Rabbi of the Tribe.  
A tiny Kniperdalling Teacher;  
And withal as pretty a Preacher;  
For declining he, ha, hum,  
As any again in Christendom,  
In Brainford dwelleth of good fashion,  
And Man of high 
* c'est un determine.  determinarion,  
resolved to eat his bread and butter  
In open streets, let who's will mutter.   

More lively to describe the Urchin,  
On legs like twigs of Besum burchin;  
He limps and doubles as he goes  
Like tumbler who does kiss his toes,  
Yet he's a man held as upright,  
For one like him that haults downright,  
As any he again in Brainford,  
The good wives there count him a Saint for't.   

I'll tell ye too (now I'm i'th' vain)  
He every year gets children twain,  
As if they still, his wife and he,  
Got children under Gemini:  
And to behold how walk they did,  
You'd think he got them with his head;  
For whilst in streets he limpeth by her,  
She than he by th' middle higher;  
'tis lechery to see him go,  
He butts against her belly so.   

Then you must know how that Baboon  
Kisses i'th' streets, even at high noon,  
Though she being higher than he three foot,  
He's forced to stand on stool to do't.   

This man was he i'th' Pulpit stood  
To day, for soul and bodies good,  
Sending them edified each one,  
And mightily comforted home:  
All Saints, and pure, though (to be short)  
Never a one the better for't;  
One only excepted, that is I  
Make this relation of't unt'ye.    

IV. jornada.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
1. A few particular Occurrences. 2. With the adventure of the Rat:  

NExt day afforded little matter  
Of novelty, by land nor water,  
For betwixt lying too long a-bed,  
And dining late too, as we did,  
Before you, What is this? could say,  
Morning and noon were past away;  
Whence it was late ere I could go  
abroad as I was wont to do:  
Go, did I say? nay, there I lied,  
For I, to tell you true, did ride  
Though without boots, the way being short,  
And clean, not worth pains taking for't;  
First to Richmond, then to Twicknam  
(Wheresoever it got that nickname)  
Where I a Lady went to see,  
Of noble and of high degree,  
Whilst at Richmond I saw none  
That I knew, but only one,  
Who they say (God's blessing on her)  
Was the Lady of the manor,  
Has made the town now (with the Court gone)  
Little better than Hogs-norton;  
From whence I went again to Kew,  
I ever make my rendezvous,  
(Since Asturly has quitted clear  
The noble Company was there)  
Nor know I nowhere company,  
And place that better do agree;  
For fair's the place, the company fair,  
Pure good they, pure good the air.   

When going to bed, adventures that,  
By day were wanting, were by Rat  
Supplied by night, from sleep did wake  
Me with the rattling noise 't did make,  
In gnawing candles end (plague choke him)  
While first I gently thus bespoke him:   

" Prithee Rat when I'm a bed,  
" Do not trot it o'er my head,  
" And find out some other place,  
" For thy gallop and thy pace,  
" Nor with trampling thou dost keep,  
" Offer to disturb my sleep,  
" And if thou'lt have me for friend,  
" Let alone the candles-end,  
" Needs must be too fat and greasy  
" For a stomach weak and queasy,  
" Rather go a little farther  
" To the Dairy and the Larder,  
" To the Cellar, or the loft,  
" Places thou frequentest oft,  
" Where thou choice of food Mayst find  
" Far more pleasing to thy mind.   

" There thou Mayst thy body feast  
" With Lard and Bacon of the best,  
" Dainty Pears and Apples mellow,  
" For their favour have no fellow;  
" With a hundred other cates,  
" Junkets for the King of Rats.  
" There like Anchoret ere th' art dead,  
" Thou Mayst delve thy Grave in bread,  
" Or like Hermit, if thou please,  
" Make thy Cell in hollow cheese;  
" There in gnawing pulse or seeds,  
" Thou Mayst nibble o'er thy beads,  
" And get thee reputation by't,  
" Of holy Rat reformed quite.   

" So Mayst meet with no mishap  
" Of subtle engine, snare, nor trap.  
" Nor presidious bridge o'er water,  
" For to make thee drop in after:  
" So may none with poisonous bait  
" For thy ruin lie in wait,  
" Nor rat-catcher of's wont manner  
" Fright thee with his hideous banner;  
" So Mayst thou avoid the Cat,  
" Deadly enemy of Rat:  
" Nor ever any mischief have  
" To bring thee to untimely grave,  
" But Mayst thou live till thou art old,  
" And a numerous race behold,  
" For thy solace often may  
" Dance about thee when thou'rt grey;  
" For thy music squeaking loud,  
" Making thee both glad and proud:  
" And last when life for death thou change,  
" Mayst thou in some barn or grange,  
" Buried in fresh straw remain,  
" And lie there till thou stink again.   

But afterwards he growing more  
Bold and insolent than before;  
Fit it was in severer strain,  
Thus to threaten him again,  
That if Rat had any grace,  
'T might make him better than he was;  
If not, and was no hope of that,  
‛ We might conclude him reprobate.   

" Then farewell patience, since I see  
" Thou but abusest it and me,  
" And my goodness makes thee worse,  
" 'tis time to take another course.  
" Then as in Ireland they do,  
" Rhyme Rats to death with verse or two,  
" So'll I thee, if Art don't fail,  
" And send thee hence with straw in tail,  
" Born of that race of Vermine on's,  
" That Egypt was so plagued with once,  
" Or of those eat, the Prince at Mentz,  
" And lineally descended thence.  
" So, thou dost of race proceed,  
" Not only of Thief but Homicide.   

" Can nothing but whole candles now  
" Serve thy turn, thou rascal, thou?  
" Reproach I should be loath to put  
" On any of thy grave black coat,  
" But thou forgetting manners, I  
" May well forget civility.   

" Light! we shan't shortly dare to sleep  
" Without Halbert-watch to keep,  
" To defend our ears and nose,  
" And thou'lt be nibbling at our toes,  
" And fingers ends, let thee alone,  
" But with a plague I'll set thee gone,  
" If Ratsbane, or the Cat can do't,  
" Traps or rat-catcher to boot,  
" Or any virtue's in a charm,  
" To wave thy farther doing harm,  
" Then by the formidable Pat,  
" Of thine enemy, the Cat.  
" By her fierce and cruel gripes,  
" Piercing to thy guts and tripes;  
" By her sucking of thy blood,  
" Which she finds so sweet and good,  
" By the pain that's in thy belly,  
" when with Ratsbane they do swell ye,  
" Or Trap▪ door does on thee fall,  
" Squeezing out thy life and all.  
Get thee gone ere I do arm  
Me 'gainst thee with a second charm;  
And upon this, and greater pain,  
Presume not to return again.    

V. jornada.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
1. The horse's devotion at Brainford. 2. The maids' petticoats there somewhat of the shortest. 3. The Citizens fishing. 4. The bargemens' rudeness. 5. And manner of drinking healths.  

FOr Tuesday, which was next day after,  
Having ferried o'er the water  
To Brainford, where 'twas market day,  
Coaches some I met on way.  
Lecture going for to here  
Every market day preached there,  
Horses who to Church went foremost,  
Seeming in their zeals the warmest:  
For they two are Auditors,  
By th'peoples' answers plain appears,  
Who asked what Lecturer sed, do say,  
The Horse does know as well as they:  
Nor ought it to appear so strange.  
If times but one point more do change  
T'have Horses go to Churches now,  
As well as Men, since you'll allow  
Bodies of Horses were in Paul's,  
Though builded 'twas for Christian souls;  
And such was their profaneness! some  
To Horses have given Christendom.   

2. Now Coaches past it was good sport,  
Wenches in petticoats so short,  
And shorter Lockrum smocks the while,  
To see tumbling o'er the stile,  
As thanks unto their scanty clothing,  
You half their breech might see for nothing,  
And t'other half I do not know  
Whether't worth seeing was or no.  
At which if any be offended,  
This gear may shortly be amended,  
When new Reformers are at leisure,  
For petticoats t' appoint a measure,  
That your young men with their peering,  
Nor your old for all their leering,  
Mayn't see so far in maiden's carriage,  
As may chance to mar their marriage.   

From Brainford then, for morning's walk,  
I o●re to Thist le worth did stalk,  
Just as Crane or heronshaw does,  
When over Bog or Marsh it goes,  
To take leave of every one,  
Being on next day to be gone,   

3. Where Fisherman I saw in brook  
Angling, who just nothing took,  
Yet thither was he come from London,  
Complaining trading was quite undone,  
And if he hoped for to mend it,  
By his fish when God should send it: 
The Citizens fishing fair, & catching a Frog.   
Faith, even fair he fished has,  
And caught a frog, as proverb says.  
So by water home I went,  
And thus was all the morning spent.   

4. Only (on way) we met with Western barge, with whom there is no jest,  
Their wits being heavy as barge, whilst merry  
Waterman was light as Wherry;  
But railing, was in earnest all,  
As soon you'd find, and do but call  
Them Pugs, and see what coil they'd keep,  
Ask Who was hanged for stealing sheep?  
Rude Rogues have nought but shit and turd,  
And kiss mine arse at every word,  
And without mannerly preface  
Of Sir reverence, name their Arse;  
Whom you would say, do just appear  
In white shirts, and their hempen gear:  
Whilst one does lead, another follows,  
Like Morris dancers to the gallows;  
But hands I washed, and fingers from them,  
And nothing have to say unto them,  
For fear of Proverbs two, that say,  
Ill meddling 'tis with such as they.  
And first is (if I ben't beguiled)  
Who touches pitch shall be defiled;  
And for second, 'tis (I think)  
The more they stir, the more they stink.   

After dinner horse I took,  
And again ferrying over brook,  
My horse starting at windmills sight,  
Ran me away with all his might;  
I could not till I came to Twiford,  
Get him stop if I should die for't.   

From thence we galloped o'er to Acton,  
Where ale, and beer, and wine, we lacked none:  
Though for my part in country town,  
Rarely with palate wine goes down,  
Has had far better bringing up,  
Such trash in belly e'er to put,  
As mongrel balderdash Mine here,  
Dutchman has stummed for us there,  
Who loves so well our beer to brew,  
Our very wine he'll brew us too.   

Mean time we two might overhear,  
Drinking deep in next room were;  
Helter, skelter healths, quoth one,  
Here's to the best in Christendom;  
Let't come, said t'other, I'm content,  
And here's to th' Sun i'th' firmament;  
A health which none, I think, that's wise,  
Does well know what it signifies;  
In Tavern cipher, used of late,  
By those make drinking matter of State,  
Who, to every wise man's thinking,  
Matters of State have marred by drinking:  
More to hear I was afeard,  
Had against good manners erred,  
T' have heard so much, but that I could  
Not choose, the Cockseombs talked so loud,  
Who wish, who e'er does stretch an ear,  
Others discourse to overhear,  
May have them stretched on pillory  
For it next market day, for me.  
Thus with their sun i'th' firmament,  
Drinking of healths so long they went,  
And we tarried so long, the sun  
Out of the firmament was gone:  
When we galloping thence i'th' dark,  
Whilst dogs behind at horse-heels bark,  
Children had eat their bread and butter,  
And Clowns and Labourers were at supper  
The owl with its to whit, to who,  
Hooting all the way we go:  
I came to Kew with weary crupper  
Just as they sat down to supper.  
For as natural Philosophy,  
Tells you somethings, nigher they lie  
To the fire, warmer grow,  
And that is strange you'll say now so;  
My crupper, I'll assure you, more  
I ride, more still it waxeth sore,  
So after supper having said  
Good night to all, I went to bed,  
Where snugging I did sleep, like top,  
Till next morn mine eyes were open.  
This manner I concluded Tuesday,  
You will say was no great news day.    

VI. Jornada.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
1. His weary journey to Kensington, and choler at it. 2. The Hollanders devotion to Turnips. 3. A survey of Hyde-park. 4. The poet's folly.  

1. ANd now Aurora blushing red,  
Came stealing out of Titan's bed,  
Whilst the hours that swiftly run,  
Harnessed the horses of the Sun.  
Now Chantecleer with stretched-out wings,  
The glad approach of Phoebus sings,  
While Bats and owls, and birds of night  
Were all confounded, put to flight.  
All which is only for to say  
In poet's language, that 'twas day,  
Might have been said in word or two  
As well, without all this ado,  
But that 't does please Master of schools  
To render all their scholar's fools,  
By canting language signifies  
Nothing at all unto the wise.  
Now with the Sun I rising too,  
Kind leave took of all at Kew,  
And going to Thames side (having got  
Breakfast in belly) called for boat,  
With London hay, or London ho,  
Whether o'th' two I do not know,  
With intention that day  
To hedge in Kensington i'th' way,  
Where much noble company  
And friends good store I had to see▪   

Now on the way in boat I took  
Footman or boy of Colonel C—  
Who told me Fulham, nighest place  
To Kensington, for landing was,  
And had the impudence the while  
T'assure me it was but a mile,  
When I had full three miles to go,  
Plague on him did not tell me so:  
Kibes on his heels, Corns on his toes,  
Still may he have where e'er he goes:  
And be his pumps when he does travel  
Always full of sand and gravel.   

Pardon me that I disimbogue  
With choler thus against the Rogue;  
Had plot infallibly to make me  
Footman too as well as he;  
While this haves only gotten by't,  
To mar of me a Footman quite.   

2. Now whilst o'er fields I walked along,  
My comfort was 'twas all among  
Turnips, sweet Turnips, which the Dutch  
Honour and esteem so much;  
They count by them their Origin,  
How many Turnip eaters have been  
O'th' family, whence swine and they  
Are somewhat near akin they say.  
Callinged their Manna sent from Heaven,  
Such as to Israelites was given;  
Nay, as their Leeks Egyptians dud,  
Turnips they even account their God,  
Singing hymns unto its praise,  
As ethnics did in ancient days.   

" O Divine turnip, thou and Butter,  
" How often have you made us squtter?  
" Dunging our Land with what comes from us,  
" Till't even becomes a Land of promise,  
" Thou art our Apple, raw we eat,  
" And roasted, thou art all our meat;  
" Thou art our sweetmeats which we straight  
" Convert into swine's marmalet,  
" Whence thou'rt (to end) our Indies too,  
" As Goldfinders full well do know.   

Here I did see our noble friend, 
[Cor. J. S.   
Whom well again I pray God send,  
To hear news was much comforted,  
How 'twas reported he was dead,  
And God grant when of us they do  
Report so, we may hear so too.   

3. From thence o'er Hyde-park way I took,  
To see how all things there did look,  
And trees I found as many there  
As on bald crown you shall bush hair,  
tail on Ape, or as you'll have  
Beard on eunuch's face to shave,  
Which in plain English, is just none,  
So you should see where Coach had gone;  
Ground look just like galled horse back,  
That here and there does plaster lack,  
All broken out in boils and blotches,  
Where had gone, or horse, or coaches,  
They even hiringed out to you,  
As Hackney men their horses do,  
Which for your money you may ride  
In spur-galling both flank and side.   

4. Here now are two comparisons,  
In conscience worth at least two crowns,  
Though you, I warrant, would be loath  
To give your half a crown for both:  
So are Poets oft deceived,  
Imagining they have conceived  
Fancies more precious than gold,  
Till all abashed they behold,  
Going to maket with their wit,  
Nothing's to be bought with it;  
But all with ready money, they  
Seldom, or never, have to pay:   

But let that pass, and so let us  
To journey's end, which ended thus  
'Bout Cock▪ shut time I came to town,  
So weary, I was forced t' lie down,  
And weary limbs to rest in bed,  
Just like dog that's surbated,  
Or horse that's foundered, choose you whether,  
Being as tired as both together,  
As much the while, in rest rejoicing,  
As Youngster after long deboyshing;  
All dirty, just as one had been in  
Tavern three days, and ne'er changed linen:  
And thus this day of Mercury  
Did go but very hard with me.    

VII. Jornada.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
1. How he rested next day. 2. A fray betwixt a Drayman and Carman. 3. The Citizens cozening and equivocating.  

THursday I rested, not as Jew,  
Nor Christian, on their Sabbaths do,  
Abstaining from all sorts of work,  
Nor as on Friday, Moor, and Turk;  
Nor as more ridiculous,  
Reformed Pharisean does,  
Abstaining even from being merry:  
But only indeed 'cause I was weary,  
Finding just my pettitoes  
Like Teags, or Irishman, that goes  
Hundred mile on Masters errant,  
Without resting, ache I warrant;  
Or just like Dog that limping goes,  
Having in embers singed his toes,  
Licking tenderly his vamp,  
Or like man that had the cramp:  
With my journey day before,  
Having walked five mile and more,  
Perceiving then my feet so sore,  
I'd o'th' Infantry be no more;  
But mounting me for Cavelry,  
Out I went me, horse to buy,  
With all requisites beside,  
Out of town next day to ride.  
When in passing on my way,  
I chanced to see a doughty fray  
twixt a Drayman and a Carman,  
(Hap what would, could home no harm an;)  
Such a fight they did present there  
As was twixt Lapithe and Centaur,  
Or twixt Grecian and Trojan,  
All in earnest without dodging:  
But not to hold you in suspense  
With poet's wonted eloquence,  
Writing one blow with their pen  
Longer then they're fighting ten.   

First Carman lightly skirmished,  
With whip in hand, but small hurt did  
Whilst sturdy Drayman, just like ox,  
With Leaver down my Carman knocks,  
(And unto wrong use it did put,  
To strike down, made for lifting up)  
With blow infallibly had been dead,  
But that it light upon his head;  
Gramercy, gentle nature gave him  
Head only from blows to save him:  
When Drayman straightway went away,  
Marching in triumph with his Dray,  
Leaving th' people loudly bawling,  
And Carman in the kennel sprawling,  
Till we saw, a little after,  
To some's pity, others laughter,  
Carman scrabbling up, and rubbing  
Head full gently, and tail scrubbing,  
Away go, wiping hands on shirt,  
As he ne'er had any hurt;  
Threatening Drayman that was parted,  
He would see him to Tyburn carted.   

But now in buying I'll tell ye how  
Your Citizen will cozen you,  
Which 'twould never anger one  
So it were but kindly done;  
But whilst French, Italian, and  
All nations sell with hat in hand,  
Nay Jew even with bended knee,  
Only your English tradesman, he  
Scorns forsooth to put off hat  
(He keeps such gravity and state)  
Nay, the whilst you buy his ware,  
H' expects, I think, you should stand bare,  
Cozening you so squemishly,  
So grumly and so surlily;  
As for my part I'll be sworn  
I'd rather he should let't alone,  
Above all of your yea and nay  
Man, take especial heed I pray;  
As of him sticks not to swear,  
'Tis true as is that light shines there,  
When be assured he cousins ye,  
For 'tis all false light you see:  
Nor more are ye to trust that other  
Tells ye, he uses ye as his Brother,  
Although in that he tells ye true,  
For he'll both cozen him and you.  
So I well cozened, went to lodging,  
Where paying house went without dodging,  
And taking leave of Landlady,  
She, tender soul, began to cry,  
Being one o'th' goodwives of the City,  
Cries out at every thing, 'tis pity,  
With woe, alas, and well-aday;  
At ever thing that comes in way;  
So she'd go see young Kitlings drowned,  
And stra●t would fall into a sound:  
At Tyburn so, men hanged she'd see,  
And then cry out most piteously,  
Lord! What a proper man he was?  
What pity 'twas h'ad no more grace!  
With hundred of such exclamations  
Would make a hanging man lose patience,  
And then would weep a fortnight after,  
So as it would move your laughter.   

Then seeing ye bleed, she'd swoon again,  
And sigh when any were in pain;  
And if you finger chanced to cut,  
She straight would cobweb on it put,  
And Mouse-skin on your heel, when you  
Chilblane or Kibe had, and then too,  
If your Toe but chanced to ache,  
she'd Posset strait, or caudle make;  
And binding Kercheif 'bout your head,  
Lay you carefully in bed:  
Nor would she forget ye then,  
Irish rug and warming-pan,  
Nor close-stool, nor chamber-pot,  
You might be sure should be forgot.  
Such was my honest Landlady,  
Tenderly wept to part with me.    

VIII. Jornada.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
1. The terrible adventure of the Dog and the Hog. 2. With his unfortunate voyage in Surrey.  

NOw Friday came, your old wives say,  
Of all the week's the unluckiest day,  
Journey to take, or work to do,  
And I for my part found it true;  
Being day, on which't might well be said  
No buttered stick upon my bread,   

1. First adventure than I had,  
(Like mighty Hub-bub to have made)  
In Southwark was, where finding fray  
twixt Hog and Dog upon the way;  
To part them I gave Hog a lash,  
Who headlong ran me at first dash  
Upon apple-womans' stawle,  
And down went Basket, fruit and all;  
Mean while Dog all affrighted, ran  
To potter's shop, and down fell pan,  
Pots and Pipkins a whole dozen,  
Potter standing with hands in bosom.  
This seeing, starts up, Dog to scare,  
And broke as many for his share;  
When he exclaiming loud 'gainst Dog,  
And she as loud again 'gainst Hog:  
Neighbours hearing of their voice  
(Are naturally friends to noise)  
Came running to see what was matter,  
When one laments a broken platter,  
Tother again does even shed tears  
For black pot that had lost his ears,  
Nor others wanted, who were sad  
For pipkin, and mischance it had,  
Whilst every one concerned were,  
In loss of somewhat that was there;  
Disanimated and dejected,  
As every one stood most affected.   

Now for the applewoman, she  
Had friends too, 'mong the Infantry:  
(The boys I mean) came running there  
To help her gather up her ware;  
But as in fires there's more do run  
For plunder, than for quenching them;  
So did these Rogues with Apples do,  
For one they gathered, eat up two;  
Mean time one o'th' busiest spied  
Me, how I fast away did ride,  
Running as countrywoman does  
When the Bears are broken loose,  
Or like Dog with squib at tail,  
Wondering what he does ail,  
Or what a devil is the matter,  
Hearing behind him such a chatter,  
And loudly cried after me,  
Work I'd done I should come see;  
When I myself o'th' trouble freeing,  
Said I'd believe it without seeing:  
And more they cried to me to stay,  
More I spurred and rid away,  
Till past Sir George's Church being got  
Then let them come, I feared them not.   

2. Then riding down to Mestam, where  
I had not been this many a year;  
Quite over Croyden race (God save it)  
Journey a dog would not have it;  
For my comfort there being come,  
I found just nobody at home.  
After sixteen long miles riding,  
In such ways was no abiding;  
Stumbling most oft in the dark,  
Hand the while I could not mark,  
Wand'ring every foot from road,  
As Robin Goodfellow were abroad;  
Puck, the fairies with their hobblings,  
With all the crew of those Hobgoblins,  
With which babes so frighted be,  
Devil take Mestam for't for me.   

Next to be forced to take up inn,  
Where none but Carrier e'er had been;  
And where I nothing found for supper  
But only course brown bread and butter  
Upon table, cloth had been in  
Scotland, mourning with their linen,  
With mare mortuum of beer,  
Dead is, even anywhere,  
Full of hundred drowned flies,  
For me to write their Elegies;  
Judge how delicious this must be,  
Devil take Mestam for't for me.   

Then in going to bed to have  
Course winding-sheet as 'twere in grave,  
To wrap me in, and Coverture,  
Which whosoever could endure  
Whilst he lived, I'd gi'm this blessing,  
He should never die by pressing;  
A huge Irish rug would smother  
Any one whom it did cover,  
And greasy Tapestry to boot,  
Loading you from head to foot.  
Then wench with hands all hatched with dirt,  
Safe for any's doing her hurt,  
With grease and soot did so besmutch her,  
But with tongs there's none would touch her,  
Ugly as the devil's dam,  
Or as hag of's lineage came:  
Belzebub to have her soul,  
D'not lie with her she was so foul.  
And lastly, for my greater ease,  
A whole warren of starved fleas  
Grazing on me, that did keep  
Such frisking, as I could not sleep,  
Once to make end of Littanie,  
Devil take Mestam for't for me.    

Ix.. Jornada.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
1. The bashfulness of the Gentlewomen. 2. And want of breeding of country Gentlemen. 3 The description of a monstrous Belly. 4. And the several passages of a Country fair.  

NExt morning having saddled Cut,  
Spurs unto his sides I put,  
And' way toward Ashsted straight did ride  
Some seven miles off on t'other side  
Of Baensted downs nigh Epsum wells,  
Where noble company there dwells;  
With whom in coach I after dinner  
(Though before I ne'er had been there)  
Though Leatherhead went to Buckham town,  
Where fair was kept of great renown,  
And where at knight's house (God be thanked)  
We entertained were with banquet.   

Good sport it was, mean time to see  
How Country Gentlewomen would be  
Quite out of countenance at sight  
Of noble stranger, and so quite  
Stunned and bemoped with't, they'd stand,  
Not knowing to move eye nor hand;  
And in that pother and dismay,  
Would mumping sit, or slink away,  
Looking like the veriest Meacocks  
As e'er came from making haycocks.   

2. Then would your Country-Gentlemen  
Be out of mood as much again,  
And as surly, and as grum  
As they new from plough did come;  
This puffs and swells like turkeycock,  
Until he ready was to choke,  
That with choler, heats and glows,  
Making a lookingglass of's nose,  
Maundering in mind, and saying," That he  
" No more cared for their company,  
" Than they for his, and he to them  
" Would speak as little as they to him;  
Right nature, disposition and  
Humour of homebred English man:  
From thence we going to the fair,  
Found hundred things to laugh at there,  
(As God forgives, w'are but too prone  
(Indeed) to laugh at every one.)   

First sight we saw (yet) was a Monster,  
Amazed us when we saw it once stir;  
For first we saw a belly, and than  
By degrees we saw a man,  
But such a man, as I must tell ye,  
Like dutch jugg was even all belly,  
Moving feet with pace as slow  
As snail doth creep, or Tortise go,  
Yet with that pace he'd go they say  
For a need, six yards a day.   

Oh how'd a Ballad maker now  
Triumph, should I but tell him how  
He used to wish when he was young,  
Would I might never stir so long.  
Till's monstrous belly grew so fast,  
He could not stir indeed at last,  
With" Oh good people be warned by this  
" How any harm to yourselves you wish,  
" For you one time or another shall see,  
" Sure as a club 'twill happen t'ye.   

This man but ill advised had been,  
'Mongst other monsters he was not seen;  
For pence a piece there in the fair  
Had put down all the Monsters there,  
Who Sir John Falstaff made an ass on,  
And of Goodman Puff of Bars●n;  
And, were his legs but answerable  
To his belly, he'd be right able,  
Without stilts on legs alone,  
O'er Paul's steeple to have gone;  
Whence we great damage may account it,  
His belly was no better mounted.  
Now if any angry grow,  
For staying so long I'd have them know  
His belly stood so in our way,  
Spite of our teeth he made us stay,  
And 'twas an hour, not to belie him,  
Ere there was any passing by him,  
Just as in Bridewell-dock we see,  
If any Lighter chance to be,  
What do a little wherry has  
Along by that huge bulk to pass;  
Or as where Mountain nigh we are,  
All farther prospect does debar,  
We nothing see but it, until  
We overpassed have the hill;  
So passing him, and gotten clear,  
straight other objects 'gan appear,  
And w'ad full prospect of the fair,  
And all the persons that were there.   

Here one to market brings his Bullock,  
Praying God to send him good luck;  
There one sells Cow, and having money,  
Kisses her, saying, farewell dear honey:  
Then does with trickling tears protest  
In Surrey's not a better beast.  
Having enough of Beasts, we went  
Where Israelites did pitch their tent,  
The Jews I mean, o'th' frippery,  
Where your Clowns does old suits buy;  
And from thence, where Country women  
Household▪ stuff do buy, and linen;  
But the cream of all the fair  
Was where the tippling houses were,  
Where good sport 'twas to see the Clow'n,  
Some swearing' snails, and o●hers' snowns,  
Kindly salute with thump o'th' back,  
At meeting, and at parting, thwack  
O'er shoulders (dog'd not be banged)  
With Farewell sirrah and be hanged:  
Each one with crabtree stick in hand,  
With new shoestrings and clean band,  
Ribbon red, or blew, in hat,  
How broad! matter 'tis for that;  
All as courteous as bears,  
Falling together by the ears  
Upon every light occasion,  
And upon as light persuasion:  
With double jug made friends again,  
(God knows how long they'll so remain.)  
Then for the Country wenches, they,  
You may be sure, were spruce and gay;  
One simpering, and another tit  
Bridling, and nicely pacing it;  
And from head to foot but take them  
Fine, as fine white gloves could make them,  
Tawdry lace, fringed petticoat,  
With linen, had not on't a spot,  
Murrey stockings, and blue shoe-ties,  
Whilst the Clowns, as was their duties,  
Chiefly those who sweethearts wear,  
Gave them the courtesy o'th' fair,  
With green Gowns, and Cakes and Ale,  
Where there best were, and most stale.   

Then Country children over head  
And ears in Flawnes and Gingerbread.  
Here the little ones are squawling,  
There the great ones crying and bawling;  
Here one whistling, there one drumming,  
As one went, another coming,  
Making such a din and noise,  
One could not hear another's voice.  
But of this, and such like stuff,  
This a conscience is enough.    

X. jornada.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
1. The parallel of the blacksmith's and the Parsons. 2. The clown's joviality spoiled. 3. With the famous History of Tony.  

TWo bell's next morn with mighty din,  
Parishones did all ring in  
To Church, which was the house so near,  
We Sermon out of bed might hear,  
Where honest Vicar, as fame says,  
Had been a blacksmith in his days,  
And had as much ado, no doubt,  
To hammer now his Sermons out,  
As ever he had hereto— fore  
Iron bar, or nail of door;  
Nay, he was still by Metaphor  
O'th' same trade he was before,  
With hammer of the word of God,  
On their ears still laying load,  
Puffing and blowing to set fire on,  
Their stubborn heart as hard as Iron,  
Which he makes hobnail, or ploughshare,  
As they hinds or Carters were,  
Though for the most part, not to wrong them,  
He could make but hobnails on them;  
So the Blacksmith, as the Parson  
Ale bench oft does set his arse on;  
So honest Smug, as honest Vicar  
Can always tell ye where's best liquour,  
So for old knockers both were cousins,  
Both getting children by the dozens.   

But let that pass, and proceed we,  
Who after Prayer-time went to see  
House (if you ancient Records look)  
Belonged once to Sir Robert Cook,  
For Garden, Wood, and Bowling-green,  
A prettier place you have not seen,  
Where supping in good time, we took  
Coach, and went home by nine o'th' clock.   

2. Now I observed on the way,  
How clowns were nothing nigh so gay,  
And merry as th' were wont to be  
In days of mirth and jollity,  
When piper striking up, would make them  
Every one to legs betake them,  
And all the harm to them sunk down,  
Which settling now in head of Clown,  
Hatches discontentment there,  
Which we all have cause to fear,  
And to wish again those days,  
When in harmless sports and plays,  
They feast-days spent, and Sundays even,  
Never the farther by't from heaven,  
They being then as godly too,  
And more perhaps than they are now.  
To which purpose story I'll tell,  
If you'll list and mark it well.  
An English merchantman by hap  
From India, doubling the Cape,  
Light upon a Cafre there,  
Of all moors most barbarous are,  
With whom t' eat raw flesh was small matter,  
They playing 
* The devil in plain English.  their Diable a quarter.  
This he into England brought,  
And Christian Religion taught,  
And, howe'er about it came,  
He honest Tony had to name,  
Speaking English well withal,  
As ere a Tony of them all.  
Then having learned to wear his clothes  
Neatly, unto school he goes,  
Where having been well whipped, he did  
Like any Christian body read,  
And went to Church diligently,  
Following Master, dog and he;  
When he of Sermon the whole sum,  
Could repeat at coming home;  
For he chiefly loved Sundays,  
'Cause he worked not as on Mondays,  
And would well, as't did appear,  
It would a lasted all the year;  
For o'er a Bible he would soam  
The whole day long, let him alone,  
Who straight in reading Holy writ  
Became a mighty proselyte,  
And a notable do he kept there,  
With interpreting of Scripture:  
O'th' Pocalyps' he knew each letter,  
And could expound it no man better;  
Had still in mouth Phares and Techel,  
And could guess shrewdly at Ezekiel;  
He read whole Genealogies,  
And counted ancient Patriarchs wise,  
That they so many wives did keep,  
And so many flocks of sheep:  
Story of David and Bersheba,  
He knew, and how with her he lay,  
And was therewith much edified,  
Then he would eite ye text beside  
Out of Matthew, Luke and Paul,  
As if th've been hail fellows all.   

For turning up then white o'th' eye,  
He could do it excellently;  
And through the nose too, speak for need,  
When he thanks gave, or did read,  
Having in every thing right twang,  
Of the pure and holy Gang.   

This his Master seeing, who  
Was very zealous, you must know;  
He thought should Ton● but return  
To the land where he was born;  
He would not leave woman nor child  
Unbaptised, nor unreconciled;  
Nor should there be a man or beast,  
That was not civilised at least,  
So furnished with his instructions,  
And a few other deductions;  
Tony a shore was left, and he  
Voyage went on prosperously,  
Hoping at his return to see  
Wonders wrought by Anthony:  
When going a shore, whom should he find  
But Tony he had left behind,  
All naked as ever he was born,  
(His fellows having at's return  
(It seemed) as fellows did of jay,  
Pecked all his borrowed plumes away)  
About whose neck hung guts of beast,  
Which he was nibbling with the rest,  
And with the foremost cutting it,  
Like Tumbler upon hands and feet.   

Which Merchant seeing to his grief,  
So contradicting his belief,  
And finding all his labour and cost  
Upon Tony wholly lost:  
In this sort he him bespoke,   

" Fie Tony, fie, is this the hope  
" I had of you? this all the fruit  
" Of Scripture, and the Church to boot?  
" And is it Tony a this fashion,  
" You converted have your Nation?  
" To return like dog to vomit,  
" And such abominations commit,  
" A Heathen would not do ye, nor a  
" Jew in Sodom and Gomorrah:  
" Well well, I do perceive now by't  
" 'Tis hard to wash a blackamoor white.  
And much more to this purpose sed  
(Which very stones had mollified)  
All which no sooner Tony heard,  
But standing warily on guard,  
In English (running somewhat low,  
Like small beer on tilt does go)  
He this wise sentence out did drivel,  
" In Ingeland much God, much Devil;  
" But here now it much better is  
" Where neither God nor Devil is,  
So whip ran Tony from the shore,  
No setting eye upon him more.   

By which story's plainly shown,  
Not reading Scripture 'tis alone  
Brings us to heaven, but doing it,  
And well observing what is writ.    

XI. Jornada.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
1. The clowns misdirections on the way. 2. The description of a monstrous one. 3. And of a Country school.  

NExt morning I by break of day  
Saddled Cut and rid away  
To Albury, nine miles off, to see  
Ladies who lived there, two or three;  
Yet thither, as I am a sinner,  
Arrived not until after dinner,  
Though horse was ne'er in lesser dumps,  
Nor ever more bestirred his stumps,  
Such admirable faculty  
I have in missing way, as I  
Am sure, if there but two ways be,  
To take the wrong one presently:  
Whatever Adamantine force,  
In wrong way is, draws me and horse,  
Or howe'er it comes about,  
Right way and I should still fall out;  
By hook or crook certain it is,  
My way I'm always sure to miss.   

Which coming home was more apparent,  
Going ten miles about I warrant;  
Thanks to direction of guide  
I met sometimes by highway side.   

4. Such sure guide now is in clown,  
Ne'er goes but to next market-town,  
Nor ere other direction knows,  
Than by his neighbour Hobson's close,  
Or Jobson's barn, he does suppose.  
Well as he your traveller knows;  
Yet still the way he'll understand,  
Only he'll mistake the hand,  
And left hand tell you oft for right,  
As on th' hard names he chance to light.  
So when a hundred byways is,  
He'll tell you way you cannot miss,  
Be only sure to keep on right,  
And put you in such labyrinth by't,  
Dedalus skill, and Hercules pain  
Can never lead you out again,   

2. Amongst the rest I met with one  
Clown (or never there was none)  
Or Monster rather you'd a swore,  
For tusks he had like any boar,  
Flat nosed, beetle-browed, blear-eyed,  
Crump shouldered, and wry-legged beside,  
You could not tell where Nature, or  
Fortune had disgraced him more,  
resolved at least to disgrace them,  
As much, or more, than they did him.  
This sweet youth set me three miles right  
Out of my way for very spite,  
As plainly did appear to me,  
'Cause I had better face than he.   

3. Mean time on way I chanced to hear,  
As Country village I drew near;  
A humming noise first, just as Bees,  
That swarm 'bout hive, or hollow trees;  
And then the more confused noises  
Of a hundred several voices,  
Just like Dawes and Pies that chatter,  
When wondering what should be the matter,  
At last drawn nearer, I heard straight  
A certain voice articulate,  
In screaming accent hic haec hoc,  
As if some Perroquit had spoke;  
And then another taking's cue,  
Began to spell me be ba but:  
When what was't but a country school,  
Or young Bedlam, if you wull,  
Where the whip is always walking,  
And they nonsense always talking.  
For first incitement there is none  
To learning but the whip alone;  
Incitement more for beasts than men,  
And for manners they again,  
Ill nature only learn, and nought  
But ill behaviour there is taught;  
For whilst lesson they repeat  
Hat on finger's end they get,  
(Not lesson) which they twirl about  
For pure fear of being out,  
And leg make turning round just like  
Jack o'th' Clock house 'bout to strike.  
Then for that same fool and ass there,  
In vulgar language called schoolmaster,  
With cloak of some old hearse-cloth made,  
Lining nor yet outside had,  
So threadbare, thrice seven years 't had been  
Ere any wool upon't had seen:  
Poor fellow he knew nothing else,  
But whipping boys and ringing bells,  
With a little of the Psalter,  
Which children in the school are taught there,  
'Cause he understands that better  
Far, than any other letter,  
Which straight the boys to dogs ears tear,  
Such deadly enemies to't they are;  
And as oft as any's whipped there,  
He falls (in anger) on the Scripture:  
For Solomon's saying▪ words are mild,  
Spare the Rod, and spill the Child.   

But dunces theyare, dunces they'll die,  
So I went and left them, I:  
And at last came home, though late,  
Where whilst adventures I relate;  
I by 't only this did gain,  
To be well laughed at for my pain.    

XII. Jornada.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
1. The ridiculous adventure of a Miller. 2. A story and fable well applied to the present time.  

NExt day returning towards Kent,  
Leave I took, and way I went,  
Where whip! in less than pissing while,  
I out of way was gone two mile;  
Whilst verses I was thinking on,  
And wits a woolgathering were gone.   

But good luck was, on Bansted downs  
I met my ancient friends the Clowns,  
(At dead lift as sure as Sexton)  
Who set me on my way to next town,  
Saying, I to London thence might go,  
Which what fool is't that does not know?   

1. But bawking London way I went,  
Jogging onward towards Kent;  
When I chanced to see at Dartford,  
(I'd like t' have laughed out my heart for't.)  
Out of alehouse came a Miller,  
To maid o'th' house was a well-willer,  
Who nimbleness to show and force  
He had in getting up on horse,  
Yerks out legs, and so far stretches,  
As point broke, and down fell breeches,  
When shirt to knock that hardly came,  
Owing him, it seems, a shame,  
His buttocks all discovered bare,  
For frost-biting exposed to air,  
As I've Gentlewomen seen with face,  
Not much well-favourder than's arse,  
He lying o'er packsaddle all stripped,  
Just like schoolboy to be whipped;  
For's credit showing her one trick more  
Than ever she had seen before.   

2. A little farther I overtook  
One, who did like Doctor look;  
By his grave deportment, marry  
He talked more like Apothecary:  
For being sessed some fifteen shilling,  
More than he to pay was willing,  
He, as loins and back were broke,  
Murmured most fearfully, and spoke  
Treason, as much as might amount  
To whipping, upon good account,  
When I for danger on't might come,  
Wished I were deaf, or he were dumb,  
Who should be loath that any stranger  
Should decoy me into danger,  
Wehre (in fine) to let him see,  
He 
* Ovum tondere.  eggshell had to slave of me,  
To stop his mouth did tell him story,  
To hear perhaps you'll not be sorry,  
How a certain novice friar  
Of his friend did once desire  
To know how he might live content  
In the cloister where he went:  
When friend complying with's desire,  
First bid him speak well of the Prior. 
Loqui bene de priore.   
Next, that by all means forbears  
To intermeddle with affairs:  
And lastly, that he let things go  
As th' were wont to do, so, so,  
And never trouble himself again,  
With thinking of reforming them;  
Observe but these three rules, said he,  
I warrant you'll contented be.   

Then fable told him for the nonce,  
Story to confirm, how once  
Land and seafowl being together  
(Though not birds of the same feather)  
Land fowl gravely said to t'other,  
What difference there's betwixt us brother!  
When storms do rage, and winds do blow,  
As earth's foundations they'd o'erthrow,  
Hoisting the billows up so high,  
They seem to lave the sea i'th' sky,  
Without suffering any harm  
From the wind, or from the storm.  
In some tod of ivy I,  
Or some hollow tree, do lie.  
Whilst you on boisterous seas are tossed,  
And lastly i'th' wild deeps lost.  
With this bare Epitaph on grave,  
Storms they loved, and storms they have.   

So whosoever was not fool,  
Follow should the friar's rule,  
And never over head and ears  
Plunge, and engulf them in affairs,  
Else if they chance to get a lash,  
As Horses headstrong, wild and rash,  
The Rider's not in fault, but they  
No better riders will obey,  
Are for obedience only born,  
Nor ought they mean time think it scorn  
Compared to be to th' noble beast.  
In whom they much should find (at least)  
To liken and assimilate  
To every popular estate.   

I'th' Centaur so when man and horse  
Join equally their wills and force,  
How easy is the government,  
And every one how well content?  
Which disagreeing straight ye view,  
Nought but confusion does ensue;  
Whilst Rider Horse does spur and check,  
Or Horse does break the rider's neck.  
So much I, which having said,  
Doctor seemed full well apaid;  
And with this counsel way went he  
Without ere paying me my fee.   

As I at last did homewards wend,  
So my Diarium did end,  
Or journal rather, choose you whether,  
For th' are indeed but hard words either.    
FINIS.   

OTHER PIECES OF THE SAME AUTHOR.  

To the Noble Company at Lodge.  
The success of his journey from thence.  

I'M sure you all remember well,  
Amongst the rest at Lodge befell,  
What wonders strange George Stroud did tell.   

How Alder stick in pocket carried,  
By Horsemtn who on highway feared  
His breech should ne'er be galled nor wearied,   

Although he rid on trotting Horse,  
Or Cow, or Cowl-staff, which was worse,  
It had, he said, such virtuous force,   

Where virtue of't from Judas came,  
Who hanged himself upon the same  
(For which in sooth he was too blame.)   

Or 't had some other magic force,  
To harden breech, or soften horse,  
I leave 't to th' learned to discourse.   

This solemnly he did protest,  
H''ve tried it twenty times at least,  
And well could write Probatum est.   

But Pox, say I, of his probatum,  
Has cost me full ounce of Pomatum,  
A dram of it I will not bate 'em.   

For I had hardly rid a mile  
But backside was as sore as boil,  
Devil take Alder-stick the while.   

And Devil take all clownish bummes,  
As hard and stiff as braced drums,  
No harm unto them ever comes,   

Whether they ride o'er down or heath,  
Trotting of dagger out of sheath,  
All's one to them, they're sound beneath.   

Whilst I have such a tender breech,  
Leather I lost in thongs would stretch▪  
From Quinborough to Clement's reach.   

Out-vying Madam Tenderlet,  
Who crupper burst with fart she let,  
All France they say does ring on't yet.   

No Snake its slough had lately slipped,  
No eel that of its skin was stripped,  
No schoolboy that was newly whipped,   

Nor Lady fair with Mercury,  
Skinning of new face, in does lie,  
Was e'er so raw and sore as I.   

Whence first I did most heartily  
Commend me to Saint Barthalmy,  
With putting it in Litany.   

From horse that trots as he would flee,  
From faith in stick of Alder-tree,  
And from galled breech deliver me.   

This not doing, I changed stile,  
And fell to curse another while,  
But breech still was as sore as boil.   

Then for another fit I'd try  
The mathematics, and whether I  
Could find out by Philosophy,   

whenever atoms were round or square,  
If in my breech there any were  
(Now I had worn it to the bare)   

Or else (in counting one by one)  
How many trots, if horse held on,  
Would reach from hence unto the moon.   

But these being questions too high,  
(My horse does know as well as I)  
At last I fell to Poetry;   

Which (though breech still was sore) at least  
In turning of it all to jest,  
I of all shifts did find the best,   

Excepting when my breech I shift,  
In giving it the gentle lift,  
(For to save Leather was but thrift.)   

When seeing of what seats I did choice make,  
You would have said I shift did worse make▪  
Than ere did jack-an-apes a horseback.   

But now to journey's end being come,  
Commending me to all, and some,  
You'll see I'll better look to bum,   

And better look too (without jest)  
How I believe of man or beast,  
Again, George Stroud's probatum est.    

On Doctor Cuckold.  

Who so famous was of late,  
He was with finger pointed at.  
What cannot learning do, and single state?   

Being married, he so famous grew,  
As he was pointed at with two:  
What cannot learning and a wife now do?    

One busy in Office.  
Who t' o'ersee others, makes too busy haste,  
Most commonly oversees himself at last.   

To his Horse running in C. Park.  

AFter my hearty commendations,  
Hoping thou hast nor bots nor fashions,  
Nor any other such disease,  
But art, as I am writing these,  
In perfect health; these are to let  
Thee understand I cannot yet  
Come into country, and to tell  
Thee all thy friends in town are well.  
As also for to give thee some  
Instructions how, until I come,  
thou'rt to behave thyself at pasture,  
For the credit of thy Master.   

First then, for company of Mare  
I need not bid thee to beware;  
For the man that soundeth horn  
Already has done thee that good turn:  
But of Colt that flings and kicks  
Be sure thou learn no coltish tricks,  
For fear thou put me to the pain  
To bang them out of thee again:  
So i'th' Park thou with the Dear  
Mayst freely feast, and never fear;  
But howe'er the world goes with thee,  
Do not feast the dogs I prithee.  
Then thou'rt to shun all company,  
By whom thou Mayst deboished be,  
To run wandering about,  
Till Baily seeking of thee out,  
Thou to thy disgrace be'st found  
Laid by the heels in country-pound.  
But 'bove all, be sure if Groom  
With oats in peck do flattering come  
To take thee up, thou keep aloof,  
And trotting fast away on hoof,  
Neighing loud with head in wind,  
Show him fair pair of heels behind:  
For if once they get that haunt,  
Employment thou shalt never want,  
But must trot for every one,  
Has any business to be done:  
Gray Fleckno here, grey Fleckno there,  
Gray Fleckno must go everywhere.  
And now to Rochester they'll send  
Thee, now again unto Gravesend,  
Although't be but for new-laid eggs,  
Until the'ave ride thee off thy legs:  
To those wooed take thee up, then say  
Thou hast no shoes (as well thou may)  
And till thou Master's pleasure know  
Thou dar'st as well be whipped as go:  
If that suffice not, gi'um, a kick,  
I will bear thee out in it.  
To end, ply thy business, that  
Is, to eat, and to grow fat,  
And to choose thee out best pasture  
For to feed on, that thy Master  
Finding thee in flesh and force,  
May say indeed, Gramercy horse;  
So farewell, from town, where news  
Is none, in Smithfild, nor at mews,  
Which the Exchange is, and the Court  
Where horse of business resort;  
But Cavalier for raising forces,  
Having no more wit than horses,  
Are condemned, for aught we hear,  
To keep all the horse i'th' shire,  
Whilst themselves have left them none  
But Hackney horse to ride upon.  
And this fine reward now they  
Have got, for playing of horseplay,  
None pitying them for aught I know,  
So th' innocent don't suffer too;  
And those who from the fault are free,  
I'th' punishment involved be;  
For the rest of news in town,  
That their Religion quite goes down.  
That concerns thee nothing, who  
No more haste than a Horse I know.  
Besides, thou never wilt grow fat,  
Trouble thy head but once with that,  
As we experience had in Paul's,  
Where horse (than thee, had bigger nolls)  
Quartered, but did leaner grow,  
Experience that does plainly show:  
Cathedral Churches may make men  
Fat, but make the horses lean.  
But what do I talk? this is discourse  
Too high for Master and for Horse.    

Jo's Metamorphose into a Cow.  

FAir maidens all draw nigh and hear,  
A wondrous story I'll tell you now,  
How Inachus lost his daughter,  
Poor wench was turned into a Cow.   

The Damsels name was Io, height,  
(As Clark and Parish-book do say)  
A maid as beautiful, fair, and bright,  
As one should see in a summer's day.   

Her father was one of the River-Gods,  
And water of's urn did only look after,  
Though better for him 't had been by odds  
This once t' have looked to's daughters water.   

Who being the offspring of a River  
(As all your ancient Records tell)  
None but this commendations give her,  
That she could make water excellent well.   

At which as Jupiter one day found her,  
A whoreson mightily given to the vice,  
He laid her down as flat as flounder,  
And whipped off her maidenhead in a trice.   

When for to hide it from Juno his wife,  
As arrant a scold as ever was born;  
What did he for a quiet life?  
But poor Io into a Cow transform.   

When but imagine how troubled she was,  
When looking i'th' River, by which she fed,  
And in the water beholding her face,  
She found sh''ve a great pair of horns on her head.   

And think withal how it would puzzle  
As fair a maid as went on the ground,  
To see she had got so ugly a muzzle,  
You would not have kissed her for twenty pound.   

Next thing she wondered at was her palate,  
So strangely changed she did not know how,  
As nothing would down with her now but salad,  
And she could eat grass as well as a Cow.   

Then hearing with what a current she pissed,  
Full quarter of hour and never faltered,  
Alack and well aday, she wist,  
Her case must needs be mightily altered.   

Then having a rumbling in her belly,  
And letting a fart as loud as a gun,  
Her trouble impossible 'tis for to tell ye,  
Concluding (alas) she was quite undone.   

For oh (thought she) poor maid beguiled,  
And more than ever was any by half,  
A my conscience, indeed, to have got me with child  
This rascally rogue has got me with calf.   

And that which increased her suspicion the more,  
Was her dropping of somewhat, when turning to see't,  
It was not indeed the calf she looked for,  
But as ffat a cow-turd as ever was shit.   

Yet see the force of imagination,  
The thought of a calf so run inhere head,  
She thought th've all been calved a that fashion,  
And served up in green-sauce alive and dead.   

When just her father came her in sight,  
Who had been seeking her many a day,  
And was for her loss so woeful a wight,  
He even be pissed him, the story does say:   

Who how he came to knowledge of▪ s daughter,  
As soon 'tis said he knew her full well,  
And also what became of her after,  
Too long a story 'twere for to tell.   

In a word, let maids be warned then,  
Be they of City, country, or Court,  
To make best of their time as they can,  
And look that they never be cowed at the sport.   

And for your married wife, she wull,  
I hope of this counsel well allow,  
Rather to make her husband a Bull,  
Than suffer her husband to make her a Cow.    

The Dispute.  

POrtia beloved by every one,  
Into foreign Regions gone:  
One day Bellaria the fair,  
And brave Villasis did compare  
Affections, questioning whose loss▪  
And sorrow for it, greatest was;  
While Peg from tail did never budge,  
Betwixt them gravely sat as Judge,  
Just as Paris once twixt goddess,  
Though the comparison but odd is.   

First then there was great contest  
Whether sex could love the best;  
When Peg being shrewdly put unto't,  
Was at first a little mute,  
Till after she, like Ape, did chatter  
Awhile, she said 'twas no great matter.  
Next was, who loved Portia most,  
When Peg again, who ruled the roast,  
Still gravely sitting on her bum,  
Spitting thrice, and thrice crying hum,  
Without moving off her arse,  
Said She could tell no more than horse.   

Another Quere then was moved  
By Portia, who was most beloved?  
Which question mightily did puzzle  
Our reverend Judge with fair black muzzle,  
Until at last, point-blank she swore,  
She was as wise as she was before.   

Another doubt they pitched upon,  
Was, where two equally could love one,  
Or one equally could love two?  
When Peg with her te whit te who,  
So busy was in cracking nuts,  
She could not answer for her guts;  
Who oft as any did perplex her,  
Cried, For God's sake they should not vex her.   

In fine, when none of this would do't,  
Villasis put Bellaria to't;  
Saying, men's hearts being far more spacious,  
Must needs of love be more capacious;  
But fair Bellaria, whose wit  
Yet never wanted Repartit;  
And who in powerful reasoning could  
Dispute and conquer when she would,  
Did womens' hearts more tender prove,  
And so more capable of love.  
At this they called away to supper,  
When Peg arising straight from crupper,  
Waddling before cried fiddle faddle,  
Th've talked, so th've, till head waa sddle,  
And that 'twas, so 'twas very fit  
She should go drink to settle it.   

Here I could tell what she said after,  
To excite them unto laughter;  
And what a feast she made of wit,  
Though devil a bit I saw in it,  
Now serving in, in lieu of salad,  
The stale ends of some old Ballet;  
And for baked meats, than a story,  
That all musty was, and hoary:  
Then she for second course wooed offer ye,  
Of gibberish a gallimaufry;  
And then for music wooed so hum,  
You'd wish you deaf, or she were dumb;  
And when as none of all these took,  
Tell ye how woodenly she'd look.   

But her drinking being that,  
She ever was most excellent at,  
I'll only tell ye how a glass  
She took, that more than half pint was,  
And drinking't to them, on their peril,  
Bid them not forget her squirrel.    

Song.  
The Mock-marriage.  
YOu're to be marred, or married, as they say,  
To day or to morrow, to morrow or to day;  
But be it as they say,  
To morrow, or to day,  
For your comfort yet I pray  
Take this by the way;  
Your women are but fickle,  
Your Marriage-ware is brittle,  
And twixt merry age  
And marriage  
Is difference not a little.   

On the justice of Peace's making Marriages, and the crying them in the Market.  
SONG.  

NOw just as 'twas in Satur's reign,  
The Golden age is returned again;  
And Astrea again from heaven is come,  
When all on earth by Justice is done.   

Amongst the rest we have cause to be glad,  
Now Marriages are in markets made,  
Since Justice we hope will take order there,  
We may not be cozened no more in our ware.   

So husbands shall have this commodity by't,  
T' have wives by the weight, who are often too light,  
And wives (to contentment of every one)  
Shall have husbands too (they hope) by the stone.   

Nay perhaps in time they may think it fit  
That Justice first night by bedside should sit,  
And carefully look (as in market they did)  
That Justice too be done in the bed.   

So all incommodities would be prevented,  
And every one would hold them contented,  
And all debates in Marriage would cease  
When things were done by a Justice of Peace.   

Besides, each thing would fall out right,  
And that old Proverb be verified by't,  
That Marriage and Hanging both together  
When Justice shall have disposing of either.   

Now as for Ladies who may be so proud,  
They won't go to market where things are allowed  
They may in their chambers (for aught I do know)  
Have Weddings, and let the Marriages go.   

And as for Jone of the Dairy, it may be,  
Who counts herself as good as my Lady,  
Who knows, whilst nobody too does mark,  
But she may have a touch in the dark.   

Let Parson and Vicar then say what they will,  
The custom is good (God continue it still)  
For Marriage being a now traffic and Trade,  
Pray where but in Markets should it be made?   

'Twas well ordained they should be no more  
In Churches nor chapels, then as before;  
Since for it in Scripture we have example,  
How buyers and sellers were drou'n out o'th'▪ Temple.   

Mean time God bless the Parliament,  
In making this Act so honestly meant;  
Of these new Marriages God bless the breed,  
And God bless us all, for was never more need.    

Of great Names.  

I Who in former times observed have been,  
Never to talk under a King and Queen,  
Nor ever in discourse t' have mention made,  
But of what such a Duke or Duchess said;  
With whom my Lord and Lady, such an one,  
As common was as now are Jack and Jone.  
Now all those names are almost ta'en away,  
Am at a stand, and know not what to say,  
And well could wish for such an art as his,  
Who wire-drawed Simon to Simonides,  
Or with the full-mouthed Spaniard add an O  
T' our names, to make them more resounding so.  
But yet it needs not, for considered right,  
Your great names no ways are advantaged by't,  
'Tis not the sound (next blast of air devours)  
That fills the mouth of fame, though it does ours;  
But 'tis brave action only dignifies,  
And raises names of men unto the skies.  
So Cesar only signified one,  
Was cut untimely out his mother's womb,  
Until by's glorious actions he became  
The honour and the glory of his name;  
And Cicero's was a scorned name, till th'Gown,  
And civil pleadings, gave it such renown.   

So mighty names of Kings and Emperors,  
Signifies nothing but the sovereign powers.  
This has in war, as t'other has in peace,  
Duke leader of an Army, Princess's  
Principal persons, or in peace or war▪  
More still esteemed, more absolute they are;  
Which being so, this be th' conclusion then,  
Great Actions make great Names, great Names great men.  
As once then did you noble Heroes, so  
Let's do great Deeds, and let the great names go,  
Or rather, as those worthies did of Rome,  
Let's do great Deeds, and the great Names will come.    

To the Lady M. S. departing in the beginning of May, under the name of Cloris.  
SONG.  

CLoris if e'er May be done,  
You but offer to be gone,  
Flowers will wither, green will fade,  
Nothing fresh nor gay be had;  
Farewell pleasure, farewell spring,  
Farewell every sweeter thing;  
The year will pine away, and mourn,  
And winter instantly return.   

But if you vouchsafe to stay,  
Only till the end of May,  
Take it upon Flora's word,  
Never sweeter spring was toward,  
Never was Favonian wind  
More propitiously inclined;  
Never was in heaven nor earth  
Promised more profuser mirth.   

Such sweet force your presence has,  
To bring a joy to every place;  
Such a virtue has your sight,  
All are cheered and gladded by't,  
Such a freshness, as does bring  
Along with it perpetual spring,  
Such a gaiety the while,  
As makes both heaven and earth to smile.    

On a fair Ladies singing, under the name of Celia.  

PRetty mouth, which but to see,  
Is alone such Harmony,  
That so heightened is the while,  
Only but behold it smile:  
And but hear it speak, is more  
Music than it was before;  
How much more must 't be to boot,  
Add, at last, but singing to 't?   

If Birds the ears can so delight,  
Have no attraction of the sight;  
And instruments deformed can do't,  
Th' ill-faced Viol, and crook-backed Lute,  
Think to what a vast account  
Of rapture it must needs amount,  
When so many numbers meet  
All in one, of fair and sweet.   

When beauty, music, every grace,  
That e'er adorned a mind or face,  
Every line, resulting air,  
In one uniting sweet and fair;  
To ravish us do all concur,  
With so much excellency in her;  
And whatsoever we hear and see  
In Celia, is all Harmony.    

Doctor FOR and AND: A Dialogue betwixt Nobody, the doctor's Admirer, and Somebody, that laughed at him.  Nobody. 
LIsten, I pray, what says the Doctor there?  
I warrant some brave stuff, if one could hear,  
But loathe I am to stretch mine ears so far,  
As if they wiredrawn, or tentered were;  
If Doctor but hold on as he begins,  
He'll drive, I imagine, all the deadly sins  
In mouse-holes straight, nor Peccadillio  
Shall ere hereafter dare its head to show,  
For Doctors zealous and canonical,  
And in's fervour I know will damn them all.  Som. 
Hang me if any thing I understand  
Of all he says, but only for and and,  
And that he pays, banging the pulpit there,  
So most tyrannically, as you'd swear  
(To hear how he does rage, take on, and bawl)  
That down went Dagon, Antichrist, and all,  
That he had quite o'ercome both bell & Dragon,  
And Whore of Babel left with never a rag on.  Nob. 
How! For and And! 'las, what have those words done?  
I wonder! Doctor should so thunder them,  
They are no foreign words I'm sure, and so  
Has (on that score) no spite 'gainst them I know,  
And in conscience, I dare swear, this is first time  
That For and And were counted any crime,  
Or any part of our Religion.  Som. 
I think so too, wherefore hundred to one,  
Our Doctor here with these same words did meet  
Amongst the learned Rabble in the street,  
Whilst Robin Hood (there) for and Little John,  
With friar Tuck, for and maid-marian,  
Were trouled in Ballad, and since like that wise  

* ●verdo  Justice does note them for enormities.  Nob. 
Ye jest, but strange that he should look so big,  
Squeaking like Ghost of a departing pig,  
With so devoutly turning up the eyes,  
Pronouncing words that nothing signifies;  
Whilst but to put the accent in wrong place,  
Is for an orator as much disgrace,  
And shows him (as you know) as ignorant just,  
As Fencer knows not when to give a thrust.  Som. 
But what if these words have deep mystery,  
And For should stand now for Episcopy,  
And And for Prebends, hope you then will grant  
That For and And at least are Protestant.  Nob. 
Now heaven forbid, for then both For & And.  
With them should likewise banished be the land,  
And we without them should as puzzled be,  
As freshman without If and And you see.  
No, rather h' inveighs against them a this fashion,  
'Cause For and And did word the Proclamation  
Was made against them, so the Doctor, he  
Does look on them, as Protestant enemy.  Som. 
I knew some harm was signified by't,  
Or Doctor 'gainst bare words wooed never fight,  
Just like Knight-errant, who Romance will tell ye,  
Makes giant's first i'th' air, & then does quell ye.  Nob. 
Nay, we are bid 'gainst spirits of the air,  
To fight, you know, so 'tis no idle war:  
Now, of all spirits, you must understand,  
Dangeroust of all is this same For and And.  
For first, This for reason of things does give,  
That's dangerous now in things w'are to believe:  
Besides this, For has with its reasoning  
Caused all disputes i'th' world have ever been;  
For And now he inveighs against it so,  
'Cause it's a Conjunction copulative you know;  
And 'gainst it too does just exceptions take,  
Since & with c does an et caetera make,  
Which (in the sense o'th' Doctor understood)  
'S most wicked, abominable, and not good,  
Point-blank' against one of the commandments ten.  Som. 
Nay an't be so, 'tis well fought Doctor then:  
Iö triumph, you the day have won,  
Your enemy's vanquished quite, & overthrown,  
For and And's paid, and as in Greece it was,  
Custom t'errect a Tropheee on the place;  
So on the pulpit We'll erect you on,  
With this magnificent Inscription.  
If For and And grammar had never seen,  
Our Doctor here had ne'er so famous been:  
Then reason 'tis, as formerly in Rome,  
They we're named from enemies th've overcome;  
W'our verbal conqueror (no words can withstand)  
Do call hereafter Doctor For and And.   

On Madam Imperiale.  
OF Madam it may well be sed,  
That Madam's head has little wit,  
When Madam's husband is her head,  
And Madam makes a fool of it.   

On the Play of the life and death of Pyrocles, Prince of Tyre.  
are longa, vita brevis, as they say,  
But who inverts that saying, made this Play.   

On his Censurer.  
SPending thy judgement as thou dost so fast,  
Thou needs must have no judgement left at last.   

The— 's humour, and resolute way of wooing, when he is in King Cambyses' vain, expressed by way of Letter to his Mistress in his own words.  
Lady,  

THough peradventure there's in nature  
No such rare and perfect creature  
As yourself; and that you are  

* Lyndae, muy, Lyndae Lyndissimae.  Both fair, and more fair, and most fair,  
Although your health too drink I can, thus  
With hay Abrusso, multos, annos,  
Nay, though too, peradventure, I  
So far may be in love with ye,  
As by this handed must needs be granted,  
I'm little better than enchanted,  
Whilst in myself I do discover  
All the symptoms of a Lover,  
As you shall find my dainty Duckling,  
In reading but of Sir John Suckling;  
Besides of Agues (I don't jest)  
T' have twenty fits a day at least;  
T' have heats and colds, and such a shivering,  
In my life as I was never in;  
And so many qualms to boot,  
Sir Roger's love was nothing to't.  
Yet being in King Cambyses' vain,  
All this I do recant again.  
And tell you, as I've told you oft,  
You all are things below my thought;  
Nay confidently tell you too,  
That I your Gipsy tricks do know.  
And peradventure there's in Nature  
No such admirable Creature,  
As I myself am now, in King  
Cambyses' vain that I am in.  
All language so I do disdain,  
That's not of King Cambyses' vain,  
And count all Letters low and vile,  
That are not written in his style.  
If then you please to have me, so,  
(There are enough that will, I know)  
If not, so too, I care not I,  
You'll be worse offered ere you die.  
This benefit he does obtain,  
Who is in King Cambyses' vain;  
From bonds, and folly of Love he's free,  
Whose fool or slave soe'er he be.   

This day and month that many are pensive,  
'Bout Arms offensive and defensive,  
And all your Protestant Ministers  
May even go and shake their ears,  
Every one of them at least,  
Having their quietus est.  
From this Antichristian town,  
Where good White nor Claret's none;  
But such heathenish, goatish liquour,  
Would hardly serve for Country Vicar;  
For wassail bowl, for making Union  
twixt Porters, nor for Welsh Communion,  
Makes me as heavy and as dull,  
As butcher you by nose may pull,  
As Alderman on bench, for sloth  
Does sleep, far gone in Capon broth,  
Or Lover, who for being denied  
Last Saturday, went home and died.  
From which sad fate good Lord deliver  
Your faithful servant now and ever.   
Amen.   

On the Author of that base infamous Libel, lately writ against some Ladies of the town.  

I Wonder where the Devil thou  
Found'st language for to write so low?  
Ballad-maker compared to thee  
Might Waller, best of Poets, be.  
Hadst never a waterman for friend,  
That might thee handsome railing lend,  
Nor Oyster wench, nor fishwife might  
Assist thy Muse whilst thou didst write,  
Nor blue-coat-servingman (at least)  
Might furnish thee with some stale jest,  
But thou must write such wicked stuff,  
None can condemn nor damn enough,  
Where there's nor Prose nor metre neither,  
But dregs and lees of both together.  
We see in viands which we eat,  
The sauce sometimes commends the Meat;  
But thou for seasoning what th''ve writ,  
Hast not a dram of sense nor wit,  
Nor ought we may as much as call  
Insipid, but mere stinking all.   

For Bawdry than thou offerest at,  
It is so impotent and flat,  
It shows thy Muse a Prostitute  
That would ('tis true) but cannot do't.   

This of thee's my opinion now,  
If what the Ladies is thou'lt know,  
They say the end a Poet has,  
Being commonly to write for praise,  
They ne'er knew any one but thee  
Did write before, for infamy;  
Those than are sorry and ashamed,  
Only whom thou hast not named,  
Should count it high indignity,  
Even to be praised by such as thee:  
Nor is this (I'd have thee know)  
Impudence, but judgement now;  
Thy Rhimes are all so lewd and base,  
Write to thine own, not their disgrace.  
None then thy name inquireth after,  
Nor in anger, nor in laughter,  
Nor does think thee worth a banging,  
Nor a whipping, nor a hanging;  
Whence whatsoever is thy abuse,  
It in thy baseness finds excuse:  
So if thou'lt have thy name forgot,  
Thou Mayst write still, and spare them not:  
If not, the more severer sort  
Do wish thee fairly hanged for't,  
And after sung in Ballad-rhime,  
Almost as villainous as thine:  
Mean while, if thou but holdest on  
Thy railing style as th''ve begun,  
I'll give thee this encouragement,  
England no longer shall lament  
Its scarcity of wood and tree,  
For other cause but beating thee.   

This I''ve in indignation  
Writ, when discourteously one  
O'th' Ladies disobliging me,  
For taxing her, I pardon thee.    

A Lover (such an one, as Simple in love with Mrs. Anne 〈◊〉) having bewrayed himself, writes 〈◊〉 in this manner.  
Cupid,  

THis is to let thee understand  
I'm deeply in love with Mrs. Anne,  
And would for more than only meeter,  
That I could say the deeper th' sweeter;  
For I'm in love in such a fashion,  
'Tis even as good as a purgation.  
And now I thus much have expressed,  
You easily may smell the rest.   

Here perchance now some may say,  
That I by this may Love bewray;  
But they're deceived, o'th' contrary,  
'Tis my Love bewrayeth me.  
Pardon me Cupid, I'd not said it,  
But I knew 'twas for thy credit,  
As 'tis for Doctors more repute,  
To make their Patients go to't;  
So 'tis for credit of the Patient,  
To be bewrayed a this fashion;  
For first by it he does discover,  
That he is no Costive Lover;  
And next by pickle he's in again,  
That he's no raw one, makes it plain;  
Make all then so themselves beshit,  
And thou'lt become so famous by't,  
Thou by the college wilt be had away,  
And straightway made Doctor of Padua;  
And thence returned, each one will make thee his  
Doctor, when thou com'st to practise,  
And physic only take of thee,  
Hast woman for Apothecary:  
And that none may have sinister  
Surmise, of what thou dost minister,  
Thy bitter pill first, mistress's  
Denial and refusal is,  
And thy aloes, her frown  
With Lovers bitterly goes down,  
Thy simples (I would have them know)  
Are men, when they in love do grow,  
And when with Mistress he is found,  
Then theyare thy Mixtures and Compound.     

ERRATA.  
PAge 17. line 21. read the Baboon, p. 20. l. 23. r. insidious, p. 21. l. 15. r. fit 'twas, p. 23. l. 14. r. by their answer, p. 25. l. 14. r. waterman's, l. 28. and nothinged have, p. 34. l. 12. r. could come no harm an, p. 36. l. 10. r. house rent, p. 40 l. 4 r. such a clatter, p. 41. l. 8. r. dead if ever any were, p. 56. l. 7. r. is your clown, p. 61. l. 1. r. who (in fine) p. 65. l. 5. r. by Horseman, l. 2: r. to shave, p. 75. l. 3. r. daughter dear, p. 77. l. 7. r. instead, p. 78. l. 12. r. as flat, p. 80. l. 26. r. was addle, p. 8●●. 19 r. being now a.  
FINIS.