FAIR PLAY In the LOTTERY, OR Mirth for Money.  
In several witty passages and conceits of Persons that came to the Lottery.  
Represented by way of Droll  
Bianca E F. Gent.  
Printed by H. Brugis at the Sign of the Sir john Oldcastle in Pie-corner.   

TO THE Right Worshipful and Ingenious, Sir EDWARD FORD Knight, the Author wishes much health and happiness.  
Honoured Sir,  
THe many favours that I have of late received from you, has very much induced me for to present my few Observations unto your knowing view. I must confess they are not worthy Your serious speculation, being but a little Drollery of some sorts of people at your Lottery: In a word Sir, if you please for once to Patronise this little piece, if e'er a better bud spring up to my hand, the whole Stock is yours, Root and Branch, in the interim I take leave to remain,  
Your affectionate and assured Servant to command EDWARD FORD.   

On Lotteries.  
LOtteries or Chances, chances here below,  
Are too too frequent, yet men desire to know  
Something on that account, to signify,  
Being mutual here, their mutability:  
And thus in order every man does crave  
Something, that's changing to his very grave,  
That work being done, no doubt he doth surmise  
Blanks stand for nought, 'tis faith that gets the prize.   

On a Gentlewoman with child, that longed to draw a piece of plate and could not.  
When Ladies long for Plate that is obscure,  
And very fairly ventures, yet not sure;  
Who knows the Babe within her may confess  
And weep in secret for her sad success.  
Alas! the little Infant never saw  
The Plate she wished, and had a mind to draw,  
And yet by consequence this drawn may be,  
She longed for something in the Lottery,  
Lady I pity you, because your lot  
Seemed for to frown which would have smiled being got  
That Lotteries cruel for to make him rue  
You lost your p●ise and wronged your infant too  
Yet Mistress don't dispond it is not known  
How soon bad fortune may be overthrown,  
For though the lot into the lap is cast  
The Basin and Ure may be yours at last.   

Of a blind Maid that came to see the Lotteryr.  
SHe was pretty merry though of a mean rank  
For she did laugh to hear she had a blank,  
Her fortune being hard she would not stay,  
She came in blind, and so she went away.  
It was a blind come off well met saith she,  
Fortnne's as blind as I, I plainly see.   

On a handsome Seamstress that came to the Lottery to put in her White hand into the Box  
What do you grope for Mistress, why entice  
With such a tempting hand Fortune the  
she's coy and skittish, will not, cannot stand  
And though you struck her will not come to hand, nice,  
Your powerful touch that all flesh can allure  
Cannot tempt down a Spoon much less the Ure,  
Forbear, you Tarnish all the Plate we show,  
It all seems copper to your brighter hue.  
The beauteous lustre that enchants the eyes  
And makes their Purses not our Plate the Prize  
Loses its charming look while all admire  
And who, that fairer better show inquire.  
But Fortune would not sully that fair sight  
A blank was drawn and so 'twas white to white.  
Nothing but blanks she drew, in my opinion  
'Twas a friend of mine one Mistress B—   

Of one that got a Silver Tankard.  
A Gentlewoman, whose fortune did abound  
Made her to prise for joy her happy state  
And all her wishes for the present crowned  
Obtaining such a handsome piece of plate,  
Comely she was as most is in the town  
Though at a blush she looked a little Brown.   

Of one that murmured at his hard misfortune.  
BUt one being angry as it did appear  
His fortune was not good at that same time  
Paper he did protest was very dear  
Or else 'twas made of rags was very fine,  
And told his neighbour in a murmuring speech  
He had not Paper enough, to wipe his breech.   

On a Cook that came to the Lottery.  
SOon after this comes in a jovial Cook,  
And he adventures very free and fair  
He lives hard by Py-Corner, or Pastry nook,  
As true a Trout as other Trojans are;  
He lost his money, but wished me hold my peace  
Or else he vowed to fret in his own grease.   

On a humourous Gentleman that complained to a Lady what money he had lost.  
I vow sweet Lady, Fortune doth not advance  
My fate at all, but sends me still ill chance,  
A 'bove three pound dear Madam it has cost me  
And still the blanks has played the fools & crossed me,  
Yet I will not despond, no more than brag  
Harry go home, and fetch me t'other bag  
And if I lose again and nothing get  
Though I learn nothing it shall teach me wit.   

On a poor Labourer that got two pieces of plate for two shillings.  
AMongst a sort of Sparks a Labourer comes  
For to adventure as your gallants do  
And he's in hope for to pick up his crumbs  
As in conclusion it proved very true,  
His Fortune that was good, say what you please  
He laboured hard and yet got plate with ease   

On a Lady that asked if there were ever a stew pot in the Lottery or no.  
NO Madam says the Trumpet, yet there's a Lot  
Though not for stews, for this same Chamber-pot.   

On a Tailor that came to the Lotteriy.  
BUt then a nimble Tailor he come in  
And must have a dozen Lots, I that he must  
He was as spruce we thought as he was trim  
And asked if we had faith enough to trust  
'Twas Answered that would do very well  
For sometimes he'd not trust a rag in Hell.   

Of a merry Gentleman that lost some money at the Lottery.  
A pretty Gentleman and his endeared Bride  
Came to the Lottery to sport a while  
Only another Lady too beside,  
Merry they seemed to be for they did smile,  
They ventured very fair for Cup or Bowl  
Yet still they lost, and that was very foul,  
When they had lost what they thought good themselves  
The Gentleman did say that he would send  
(First looking merrily upon the shelves)  
For the plate he had won, by a Porter or a Friend,  
The Porter came not as he did indent  
And thereupon the plate was never sent.   

On a Bailf that came to the Lottery.  
COme on my boy give me as many lots  
As thou canst well afford for a merry Crown,  
Better spent here, then wasted upon sots,  
If Fortune be not dogged, and too much frown  
Pox on't, they're blanks this 'tis to mind your pelf  
I have often pinched others, and now I am pinched, myself.   

On a merry Gentleman and his Lady that came to the Lottery.  
Led, some lots, pox on your drilling way  
You are no Cheats, what are you then I pray?  
I have had twenty now and never a prize  
Take 'em you knave just where the Basin lies  
'tis not a penny matter for the Ure  
For that lies pretty safe I am very sure  
Well done, let's see if there be nothing here  
I will not venture a penny more this year.  
Hitherto blanks prove they all, so we are sow'st  
And may conclude Sweet Lady we are Choust   

On a Whore that came to the Lottery.  
COme on my boy, give me a lot or two  
If I get any thing I'll pay thee well  
I get my money light enough 'tis true,  
And that my Neighbours if you ask, can tell;  
Well done lad if there be written in't  
I'll give it a fool or have it put in print.   

Of one that said the Lottery was a mere Cheat.  
THere is a sort of rash and Childish elus  
That calls your Lotteries Cheats and cunning snaps  
When 'tis well known that they do cheat themselves  
The bait proceeding still from their own traps  
there's none compelled to venture, is there pray?  
Then who can help the thing, that will away.  
But grant it be a Cheat, you'll grant this too  
The world's a Cheat, then pray Sir what are you.   

On an old Woman that came to the Lottery with Spectacles.  
BUt then an ancient Matron she comes in  
In hope to be a gainer with the rest?  
But to say truth, she lost and did not win:  
Her Fortune being then, none of the best.  
Her Spectacles did help her for to light  
Her purse, as well as eyes that wanted sight.   

On a Pickpocket that came to venture his money at the Lottery  
A pickpocket or own they call a foil  
Came to the Lottery and ventured half a piece  
You must think he did not get it with much toil;  
So long as Crowds do stock, or any geese.  
They all proveed blanks which made him say in fine  
This Trade is Cunninger by half than mine.   

On an honest woman that won a Silver Flagon at the Lottery.  
SWeet Mistress Walker, I must needs confess  
I cannot choose but much Congratulate  
This happy Fortune, and thy good success,  
In wininng such a handsome piece of plate,  
I wish for thy sake it had been a better thing  
Because I am sure thou'rt one that loves the King.   

On a Cook's wife that did dream she won a piece of Plate  
IT seems you dreamt, you won a piece of plate  
But when you waked found 'twas not such thing  
Than 'twas your dream made you so fortunate  
And to your senses did such solace bring.  
Even so men dream here to get joy and blise  
But when they wake, they find how true it is.  
But Mistress pray suppose that I had dreamt  
I had gi'n you a sound, for that same Plate you got  
And for my pains you gave me good content  
Which love of yours ought not to be forgot.  
But putting up my money I did find  
'twas but a dream, I saw you not so kind.   

On a Player that came to the Lottery.  
AN honest Player unto the Lottery came  
And in a frolic, ventured a Crown or two  
'tis not a half penny matter for his name  
Because there was no form in't that I knew  
He drank to me and setting down the glass  
Said he had acted fare to play the ass.   

A few Lines upon the breaking up of Sir Edward Fords Lottery at the Crown in Smithfield.  
FOr whose good hap the Trumpet cheerful sounds  
And his success with joy and Triumph Crowns  
And as promistuously there's many a blank  
Thrown in the box for one prize that is good  
Even so of every sort degree and rank  
That comes with the world of flesh and blood.  
This sad experience we have always had  
For one man that is good there's twenty bad  
The pretty Child that draws to day his lots  
Demonstrates innocently very Clear  
And those divided by a sort of sots  
That makes no use of what they see or hear,  
O that by faith a Lottery drawn might be.  
To do our souls good to eternity  
On this consideration we should strive  
For to get faith which is a glorious prize  
And will no doubt keep our poor souls alive  
When other comforts perishes and dies  
And in conclusion, Careful to be found  
Clothed with the wedding garment and so Crowned.   

On Jack Adam's innocent of Clarkenwell  
AHa look yonder Mamy, there's a dainty thing  
If we had that 'two'd make us laugh and sing  
Hark Mamy the Trumpit boes,  
I'd venture a penny or a crooked pin  
If I were sure to lose and not to win.  
Mamy you must call to this great boy  
Hear, he wont let me a see this fine toy  
Which me thinks finely shows  
Own standing by, upon his words streigh swore  
He never saw a fool at a Lottery before;  
Another answered, Friend it is not so  
There's none but fools come there for aught I know   

On a drunckenman that came to venture his Money at the Lottery  
TRumpet I'd have you know that I am willing  
To venture my money as free as any man  
Give me a lot old boy, and their's a shilling  
I'll have the basin and Ure if I can  
Yet having got a cup, it was his lot,  
To have a blank, yet called for t'other Pot.   

On a Merry Cobbler living in Smithfeld  
BUt then an honest Cobbler my good Friend,  
A great mind had to get a piece of plate  
He lives in Smithfeld ne'er to Duck Lane end  
So he might have it at an easy rate.  
But being grieved to see some lose in Plush,  
One Bird i'th' hand is still worth two i'th' Bush.  
At length with courage Hector like he came  
And did desire a Lot might favour, who  
Had put his genius in a noble frame.  
Making him merry and his Neighbours too.  
His Money then being missing in his purse  
For madness the next day, waxed worse and worse  
Scorning their laughter, for one small piece,  
Next day he comes and calls for more,  
And then he lost a pretey handsome fleece  
I think in Shillings 'twas some three or four  
Although his daily labour is in Leather  
He cannot yet bring both his ends together  
 frantic like, his fortune was so bad  
He made a vow, to come there no more  
And for a day or two was very sad  
Which in a Welshman seemed but very poor.  
Yet still says e'er the Lottery be past  
he'll come and venture and win all at last.   

On a poor man that came to the Lottery.  
AT length a poor man comes amongst the rest  
To venture a Shilling or two in hope to win  
Though for my part I did bed him strait  
Not for to do so, cause he looked so thin  
In brief he lost, yet if you'll take my word  
He had his Coin again, of Sir Edward Ford.   

On a Capt. that got two pieces of Plate for Twenty Shillings  
ANd then a Captain he drew for a piece,  
Two pieces of plate, both costly ones indeed  
One he bestowed I think upon his Niece,  
Still loving for to pleasure those that need.  
He called for Sack which I guest very fine  
He had a Caudle cup, and I a cup of wine.  
Likewise a Lady living in this Town,  
For one five Shillings two handsome prizes drew  
One as I take it was a bonny Crown,  
The other a Sugar box, both good and new.  
And yet 'tis like you'll say, in jesting sort  
She had a Sugar box, but paid sweetly for't.   

On a Spark  
I like your Gallant Sparks, that now and then  
Ventures his money at Lotteries like man,  
For if his calculation be but sound  
For own poor Shilling he may get a pound,  
Had I said twenty pound I had not lied  
Set but your blanks, and scurvy chance aside:  
But he shall sure be poor and come to lack  
That loses all and leaves no Coin for Sack.   

Of an old Usurer that came to the Lottery  
BUt then a greedy Usurer in truth  
Came to the sport only in love to see  
If he could get him any thing forsooth  
That had got so much before by Usuery  
He lost one shilling, which made him look full sad  
Another to it would have made him mad.   

The Emblem of a Lottery.  
THis World may very well compared be  
By its Contracting and uncertain ways  
Very much like unto a Lottery  
That is so frequent used now adays  
For still the Revolutions of these things  
Makes some men sad, whilst others gladly sings  
The wicked sort, they do Resemble much  
Your blanks, that seems so white unto the eyes  
But being opened torn is with a touch  
Thrown under foot and there in dirt it lies.  
The Trumpet never sounds for any those  
Nor thanks returned for any Chose  
But then your holy and religious man  
He is compared unto your Costly prize  
Which though at first it looks so pail and wan  
Why yet within, there the Rich Treasure lies.   
FINIS