A PACK OF PATENTEES.  

OPENED.  
SHUFFLED.  
CUT.  
DEALT.  
AND PLAYED.   
LONDON, Printed in the year 1641.   

A PACK OF PATENTEES.  Coals. 
Feign would I write, but that I quake with cold,  
The seasons of the year, are bought and sold  
By Patentees: yet underground like Moles  
They have their cells. The devil trades for Coals,  
For Brimston's very scarce (all fiends by kind)  
I'll blow my nails, and then I'll write my mind.  
I doubt not but in gaming we may jump,  
For all the knaves were lately turned up trump;  
Which now are in the stock; nor can they pass  
For current cheats, except they went to grass,  
And change themselves to Rams, live still in fear,  
Yet fire was very cheap, but Coals are dear:  
Which makes me feed so coldly, who can tell,  
What projects best to bring 'em out of hell?  
Perhaps they are but sunk into the sands,  
Which do resemble Hell, I'll warm my hands  
On better terms ere long, but ah must I  
Sat thus a cold until the Sands be dry?  
No, no, the spring tide comes, which in a day  
Will kiss the banks, and drive the sands away.  Sope. 
WHere's Sapo now? he's gone to look his rent,  
He cannot speed, he'd have his tenants shent,  
And he a Pursuivant to fetch 'em in;  
His horns are cut, and sorrows do begin  
To creep upon him: yet, he gaping stands,  
Craving a fee when I should wash my hands:  
I paid him weekly, but I'll pay no more,  
His ware doth stink like him; that quits the score.  
It spoils my skin, if linen cannot be  
Kept clean and sweet without a Patentee,  
we'll go like Turks. But Smigmee he will bring  
Content to you, and profit to the King;  
If you will take his word: for he's the chief,  
I wish at last, he may not prove a thief,  
To Prince and Subject: If he doth he must  
Hold up his head; nor shall he go untrust.  
The Laundress will come in when he is tried,  
And frame her plea, The Country's curse beside  
Will light upon him: with a common scoff,  
For all his Soap he came not cleanly off.  Enter Starch. 
STay, who goes there in such a serious March?  
One that will soon grow stiff; because his Starch  
Doth hang upon his hands; his outward skin  
Is frighted from the flesh, he must come in  
And lay the Sheepskin down for his abuse;  
His dainti'st wares grown stolen for want of use.  
His white, his russer, and his purest blue  
Is powdered up with bran; he's nothing new  
But tidings of his cheat; He had revealed  
(If he had got but once his Patent sealed)  
A way for yellow starch. This golden Itch  
He catcht of Lucifer, or of the Witch  
That first devised it. He (like them) pretends  
The good of others, when his private ends  
Are to enrich himself, but he may learn  
What two ends be when one shall serve his turn.  
I paint him but behind; but know ere long  
His looks will speak him, when he holds his tongue.  
I leave him as I found him, full of care;  
Easing his purse being pestered with his ware.  Exit. Enter Leather. 
Another Patentee? what's he? for Leather,  
Bring in his Rolls, and lay 'em up together.  
He feeds upon the skin; 't'as been our manner  
To blame the Shoemaker, and then the Tanner,  
'Cause Boots and Shoes are dear, and we are feign  
To use ourselves to hardness, purchase pain,  
To tame our legs, our Boots being full of holes,  
We wear the hoof to save a pair of soles.  
Poor John the Cobbler we did banish hence,  
Who would not sole 'em under sixteen pence▪  
But we repent; for since he changed his stall,  
His last, his bunch of bristles, and his ●●●ll  
Are all at pawn. But Pellio rides in state,  
To gain the Cities and the Country's hate.  
Pray let him crisp his locks; for he has blades  
And braver Gallants than the knave of Spades  
To wait upon him; if he goes too fare,  
Though late for us, too soon for him a bar  
May stop his pace: In earnest this a jest;  
Though we went barefoot while he filled his chest;  
The Lock is picked by Law, and he shall find  
His shame new bottomed when his skins unlinde.  Exit. Enter Vinum. 
IF I were able to direct my line,  
I'd soon find out the Patentee for Wine:  
But he was shrieved before, and did confess  
The wrong was none of his; but I'll express  
My barren fancy: I am feign to pay  
For tithe at least three halfpences every day:  
Which makes the Spaniard proud, & he doth nurse  
The French man's folly while he picks my purse.  
The drunkards punished most, but he'll gain health,  
And save his money now. The Commonwealth  
Is bound to praise his wit, if he can fill  
A chest of Gold or two, he in his Will  
Will leave it all to others, who for him  
Will dig his grave and leave him at the brim:  
Then in their tears, their love shall be expressed,  
Except he dies a mile from London, West.  
I'll mix my Wine with water, till I find  
The parchment cancelled, and his haughty mind  
Made like flos liberi, then may his dust  
In forma pauperis, take a grave on trust.  
His Mottoes this; Death saucily begun  
To rack up forty shillings in a Tun.  Exit. Salt White Salt. 
Well, now Salarius comes, a seasoned man,  
With Justice made in wax, but if he can  
He'll broach some life into't; If he were free  
he'd prove his arms at large, and you should see  
His pedigree displayed; how he would thrive,  
His seasons past, and now he stinks alive.  
His colours white, but he is black within  
Being frighted from the seal, he'll now begin  
To bate the price to neighbours; sell his store  
For single gains, his patent cost him more.  
But hungry time hath eat it out of shape,  
It gave him colour to commit a Rape  
Upon the harmless body, his state  
Swelled like a Maggot in a pudding fate,  
Which now hath gathered wings; and in a while  
'Twill fly abroad. I cannot choose but smile  
To see these Locusts creep in every place;  
Selling their credit they do buy disgrace.  
Their word will be Sallitus (in the street)  
Qui sapit omnia could not keep them sweet.  Exit. Enter the Hop. 
DIspatch the Hopman next, he cannot stay  
To take his Bill, except he hops away,  
He will betray the Pack, why may not he?  
His wit is levelled with his honesty.  
His wares have lost their sweetness, sent, and hue,  
The old are off his hands, as for the new  
The times have spoiled their sale, yet he could sell  
His Patent dear enough to those in hell.  
But they can brew no drink in stead of bear,  
They have each minute every one a tear.  
His shame brews grief, when danger finds no stops,  
'tis boiled, tuned, purged, and it needs no hops  
To give its relish, he would feign be shift  
Of what he sued for, but it is the drift  
Of all his Chapmen that do live in Town,  
To keep up Hops and let the man go down.  
Conceit hath filled his purse, but he will find,  
Although he went before, he came behind;  
'Tis easily known to what his gain amounts,  
But very hard to cast up his accounts.  Exit. Enter Tobacco. 
NOw Fumus comes alone; for he hath raised  
Great profit out of naught; and he'd be praised  
For his Industry, cause he loves the King,  
He'll turn Impostor or be any thing  
To show his service to him, he will make  
You buy your livelihood, or he will take  
Your liberty away; He lately made  
A Law by word of Mouth, to take your trade  
A prisoner to himself, to keep his pride  
Lay down your fine, and pay your rent beside:  
Believe him 'tis his due; but all this while  
I hear Saint Kit. Virginia doth beguile,  
And he deceives us all, he's discontent,  
His saucy tenants will not pay him rend.  
For that which turns to smoke, nor chop with those  
On whom he spits his strength, or doth impose  
His secrets in by weight, thence tried he's cause  
As Contra bonum, and against the Laws,  
His projects made with weeds, and empty breath,  
By such another he may catch his death.  Exit. Gold Wyer. 
THen came Auriligus to try his strength,  
He hath a Seal to draw you out at length,  
If you'll be pliable, resign your purse,  
He'll Wire-draw your wealth, and give a curse  
To make up weight, or if you want a grain,  
This Knave puts in himself to make up twain.  
He does but fine your pride; why may not he  
Take custom for your sin (pay but your fee  
And he'll remit your fault) as well as those  
Which men pay for kissing? proving foes  
To men with empty purses, yet this slave  
Hath gained no more than what will buy a grave,  
To bury all his worth, what needs he more?  
For he was dead in both his ends before.  
Poor men must live to labour, they must give  
Him tribute for their lives, and he must live  
By their undoing. Now he'as lost his prey,  
It's keeper slips aside, he runs away.  
Pray charge him with disgrace, then quit the stage,  
His Golden days wore out an Iron age.  Exit. Warr Horns. 
BEware the Horner comes, he can transport  
The Calf's defence, the O●e, or any sort  
Which are within his List, this Beast is free,  
He'll suffer none to trade in horns but he.  
Speak, will you have them rough? then they are put  
In universal terms; If they are cut  
He'll change them into Combs, with privy theft  
He'll barrel shame, he'has a Coxcomb left,  
Which he will use himself, his ware doth stink,  
The Devil's horns are short, and he does think  
To trade with him by wholesale, than he may  
Be carried hence, he need not run away.  
He must have room, though he be built for store,  
An Ass behind, is like an Ox before.  
His fortunes hard, nor can he hold his tongue,  
He keeps his Patent, and his Horns too long,  
Which render him a Beast, so let him pass,  
He shall be kept at House, not put to grass,  
Till he hath shed his Coat, then like a Dear,  
He'll cast his Horns, but cannot every year  
Increase again, new Cornigenus must  
Restore men right, which he did keep on trust.  Exit. Butter. 
NOw here's a slippery Merchant, hold him fast,  
His Patent sealed with Butter, at a cast  
He'll venture all his worth, he would be rich,  
And make ten thousand pay for't; but his itch  
Is somewhat cool, which formerly did burn,  
A Rope with Butter's like to serve his turn:  
His grease gins to melt, a running sore  
Is broke behind, because he robbed the poor.  
The richer sort might let his project pass,  
He'll bring 'em back a gilded looking glass,  
To trim their folly by: but ah! poor I  
Am never well but when my saucepans dry.  
To feed the Flemings he would starve his friend,  
Time has bewrayed his plot, and crossed his end.  
He must be basted ere I have my wish,  
I'll buy a Ferkin now, whereas a dish  
Was used to serve me, let this scraping gull  
Be salted up himself, his Tubs are full  
O'th' Anagram of Dirt, so foul his case  
Doth now appear, but if a Farmer's place  
Were sealed unto him, he might trade again,  
In stead of Ferkins he'd have Hogsheads then.  Exit. Rags. 
THe Rag-man's come at last, who proves his plot  
To be but Kennel deep, and yet this sot  
Is deeper in the shame than he which groans  
His length from earth, or nasty marrowbones.  
Some sweep their houses, others rake the street,  
To make his pack, and if he does but meet  
One that has robbed the Gutters, he's the taker,  
For he was truly borne a dung-hill-raker.  
His servants wear his cloth, who ere you find  
With little Dung-rakes, and with bags behind,  
Can blaze his Arms at large, he makes his brags  
That he's grown whole, and they do shift their tags  
Six times a week, but once a month he bets,  
They'd have the linen which the Hangman gets,  
But that his Patent was not wisely drawn,  
To hold in Law; his brames were laid to pawn  
For Country Tom's old linen (to begin)  
Except the  which he was buried in.  
Pray view this tottered patch, as he appears,  
His Coat is shed, and he may shake his ears.  Exit. The rest shuffled up together. 
WE'll shuffle up the pack, those that before  
Did play at post & par● must play no more;  
For they are of a suit. A Courtier's face  
Would face out all, but that he wants an Ace.  
The former lost their stakes; were they no● gone,  
(Their games being played) they might be lookers on.  
But Marrowbones must shuffle, he gins,  
Who 〈◊〉 forgot the stock; yet challenged Pins  
To prick them in the middle: not agreed,  
In shuffling one another, they proceed  
To take the Dice, and end it with a throw;  
Pins was above, and Marrowbones below:  
Had broke Tobacco-Pipes, had he been dried,  
New-Corporation betting on his side,  
Did make Gold weights his partner, and Bonelace  
Would play with Pins, who quickly gave him place.  
Their faults were shuffled in, and every man  
Will deal 'em to his partner if he can.  
They dodg in the beginning, all are vexed,  
The Cards are shuffled now, the Cuttings next.  The Cutting. 
THey lift for Dealing first, Gold weights would fight,  
(who cut a knave) cause Pins was least in sight,  
And got the Dealing, than they raised their spleen,  
Weights had a cut that all his faults were seen.  
The spirits being laid, they change their place,  
And Marrowbones must deal, he cut an Ace.  
They give each other names: who had the deal  
They called the Goose, and Lace they styld the Veal,  
Gold weights the bragging Turkey, they did pass  
On Pins that lost the deal, the Prick-eared Ass.  
The Gamesters altered; they be few, were men  
Now changed to beasts and foul, they cut again.  
Veal bleats an oath, Goose creaked out a curse,  
Who did but pick, they scorned to cut a purse.  
Then Prickeare brayed, the Turkey stretched his neck,  
But he that was to deal, did give a Beck  
On ears to cut the Cards, who cut so low,  
He turned the pack, that slander by might know  
The turning Card that Veal with dealing rubs,  
First came the Ace, and then the knave of Clubs.  The Dealing. 
Well now he deals about, & yet their game  
With free allowance had not got a name.  
The Cards prove bad, they are mad at what they do,  
They're every one a scurvy trick or two:  
And all are like to lose: one he will have  
Another deal, and play at Noddy-knave.  
To which they did agree; but yet at last  
Newcut must be their lift, and then they cast  
The knaves for partners, which are now to seek,  
They had not wit enough to play at Gleek.  
Their Patents lay at stake, and they that win  
Must cast the shame away they're settled in.  
To play a night away, for fear the Sun  
Should note their way, they having but begun;  
Their brains were thick, they played at six & seven,  
Newcut but dealt, they broke up at eleven.  
Now three-Card noddy having changed his place,  
Must be the Game, but they mistook the case,  
In putting out fifteen, but now ye may  
Work up your wits in jest and see 'em play.  The Playing. 
THe Pursuivant sits by, he'll be their Scribe,  
And reckon just, unless he takes a bribe.  
When three were flush of four, eldest hand  
Had got a great pair Royal; he did stand  
Upon his privilege, and cast a plot  
To win the Game; but he was out a spot.  
But having spied a Courtier, up he starts,  
The while his partner turned the knave of Hearts  
For Noddy knave, who took another in,  
Which made a pair, and yet he could not win.  
The third had double Sequents, and a way  
To have a double game, but's foolish play  
Hath dashed his hopes, the last had six fifteen,  
With changing Cards, who thought that Kings & Queens  
Would bear him out in being at a stand,  
They'd gladly part their stakes at even hand,  
The Officer writeth— nor can he see,  
A bribe come to him, nor a single see.  
The Gamesters break, and part, they sat enough;  
For justice challenged them to play at Rough.  
She hath her eyes, though Painters paint her blind,  
She made them run, and leave their stakes behind.  
FINIS.