The Beggar's Wedding: Or The Jovial Crew.  
Printed with Allowance, Octob. 19 1676.  

Whilom there Lived an aged Beggar old,  
That in his Life full fourscore years had told;  
His head all frozen, beard long, white as Snow,  
With a Staffs prop, on nought else might he go;  
With bleared Ey'n, all parched, dry and cold,  
Shaking with Palsy, little could he hold;  
His clothes so tattered, for they were so worn,  
Older than he, in many pieces Torn:  
The prying'st Eye, and subtlest brain, though seen,  
Could never guests what stuff they e'er had been:  
On's Cloak more several patches there did stick,  
Then labouring Algebra's Arithmerick  
Could once tell how to number; and was fuller,  
Then is the Rainbow of each various colour,  
But not so fresh; so faded they were seen,  
None could guests which was Blue, or Red, or Green.   

His Turf house leaned on an old stump of Oak,  
A hole a Top, there to avoid the Smoke  
Of sticks and scattered bones. He still was fed  
By daily begging of his daily bread.  
There on a little Bench I'll leave him then,  
Within a while I'll speak of him again.   

A withered Beggar-woman, little sundered  
From him, whom all the Town said was a hundred:  
Toothless she was, nay, had worn out her gums,  
And all her Fingers now were worn to Thumbs:  
Rinckles like Graves, to bury all delight,  
Eyes once, now holes, little she had of sight;  
Little could speak, as little could she smell,  
She seldom heard, sometimes the great Town bell.  
A long forgetfulness her legs had seized,  
For many years her Crutches them had eased;  
clothes, thousand Rags, torn with the wind and weather,  
Her houswifry long since had tacked together.  
No livelihood, but Charity grown cold  
As she was, more by cares than years made old.   

In a hot Summer's day they out did creep,  
Enlivened just like Flies, for else they sleep.  
Creeping along at last, each other met,  
And losing near each other, closely get.  
Apollo's Masterpiece shining, did aim  
To light dead Ashes, sparks to make a flame,  
Musters up Nature, in them now so cold,  
Tries whether Cupid dwells with those are Old.  
His heat and kindness made him try to kiss her,  
Her Palsied head so shaken, he still did miss her.  
He thought it modesty, she 'gainst her will  
(Striving to please him) could not hold it still.  
She mumbled, but he could not understand her,  
And cried, Sweet Hero I'll be thy Leander,  
And said, Before we met, as cold as Stone is  
I was, But now am Venus, thou Adonis.  
Such heights of passionate Love uttered these two,  
As youngest Lovers when they begin to Woe.  
For Cupid power o'er Mankind still will have,  
He governs from the Cradle to the Grave:  
There Love is such, they can no longer tarry,  
They Vow a Contract, and Resolve to Marry.   

This Marriage was divulged every where  
Among the beggars, beggars far and near;  
The day appointed, and the Marriage set,  
The lame, the blind, the deaf, they all were met,  
Such throngs of beggars, Women, Children, seen  
Mustered upon the Towns fair Grassy Green.  
The Bridegroom led between two Lame men so,  
Because our Bridegroom single could not go:  
The Bride was led by blind Men, him behind,  
Because you know that Love was always blind.  
The Hedg-Priest than was called, Fame did him bring,  
Married they were with an old Curtain Ring;  
No Father there was found, nor could be ever,  
She was so old, no man was fit to give her;  
With Acclamations now of louder joy,  
They pray Priapus to send 'em a Boy,  
And show a Miracle. In vows most deep,  
The Parish swore their Children all to keep.   

Then Tom a Bedlam winds his Horn at best,  
Their Trumpet 'twas to bring away their Feast;  
Picked Marybones they had, found in the Street,  
Carrots kicked out of Kennels with their Feet;  
Crusts gathered up for biscuit, twice so dried,  
Alms-Tubs and Olla Podrida's, beside  
Many such Dishes more; but it would cumber  
Any to Name them, more than I can number.  
Then comes the Banquet, which must never fail,  
That the Town gave, of whitebread and strong Ale.  
All were so Tipsy, that they could not go,  
And yet would Dance, and cried for Music Ho:  
With tongues snd Gridirons they were played unto,  
And blind Men Sung, as they are used to do.  
Some whistled, and some hollow sticks did sound,  
And so melodiously they play around:  
Lame men, lame women, manfully cry Advance,  
And so all limping, Jovially did Dance;  
Nay, and the Deafmen too, could not forbear  
At what they saw, although they did not hear,  
Which was their happiness. Then to the house  
The bridegroom brought the bride, all drink a bowse.   

No Room for any but them two they saw,  
So laid them both to bed, on freshest Straw,  
Then took their leaves, put out the Rushed light,  
But they themselves did Revel all the Night.   

The bridegroom russels now, kissed, and said friend,  
But when he kissed, he thought 'twas t'other end,  
And cried her Mercy, said, he could not look,  
It was so dark he thought he bade mistake.  
No, said the Bride most sweetly, You are right,  
As if your Taper now was burning bright.  
He now at Love's Hesperides does aim,  
That Place, O Place, which Place no Tongue should name.  
She gentle Dame, did strive to help his need,  
But there was nothing but a broken Reed.  
Their brains being soaked in Ale, having drank deep,  
Our Lovers Arm in Arm fell fast asleep.   

Thus for the Will, though nothing for the deed,  
To Love these Beggars built a Pyramid.    

LONDON, Printed for R. C. Anno Dom. 1676.