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 HIHIDBOIIhv) 
 
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Merry Drollery 
 
 Compleat. 
 


Merry 
 
 DROLLERY 
 
 COMPLEAT 
 
 BEING 
 
 j u vial Poems, Merry Songs, 
 
 COLLECTED BY W.N., C.B, RS., & J.G., 
 
 Lovers of Wit, 
 Both Parts; i66i f 1670, 1691. 
 
 Now First Reprinted from the Final Editio7i^ 1 69 1 . 
 
 3 
 
 5 
 
 EDITED, 
 
 With a Special Introduction, 
 
 AN APPENDIX OF 
 
 Notes, Illustrations, and Emendations of Text; 
 And Frontispiece ; 
 
 By J. Woodfall Ebsworth, M.A., Cantab. 
 
 BOSTON, LINCOLNSHIRE: 
 Printed by Robert Roberts, Strait Bar-Gate. 
 
 M,DCCCLXXV. 
 
 
 

TO THOSE 
 
 STUDENTS OF HISTORY 
 
 WHO DESIRE TO LEARN 
 
 IjjB €xm §hh of $nglanfo, 
 
 AT THE CLOSE OF THE CIVIL WARS \ 
 THIS EXACT REPRINT 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Merry Drollery, Complete, 
 
 (first collected in i 66 i,) 
 
 is 
 
 DEDICATED. 
 
 May, 1875. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 PRELUDE .... 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO " MERRY DROLLERY :** — 
 
 § I. MERRY DROLLERY, l66l, — 2. THE 
 BALLADS AND THE COMMONWEALTH, — 
 3. THE WRITERS OF THE SONGS. 
 
 ORIGINAL ADDRESS TO THE READER 
 
 MERRY DROLLERY, COMPLETE, PART I 
 
 » )> 93 )> *■! 
 
 ORIGINAL TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 ORIGINAL LIST OF BOOKS 
 APPENDIX OF NOTES TO MERRY D. C. 
 
 „ „ WESTM. D. 
 
 FINALE 
 
 209 
 
 351 
 358 
 363 
 405 
 403 
 
 
PRELUDE 
 
 To the Reprint of 
 
 " MERRY DROLLERY, COMPLETE." 
 
 <e Merry and Wise" the proverb bade us be : 
 " Wise/' ruled the Saintly, "but by no means Merry ! " 
 And straightway sought all joy to kill and bury. 
 Marvel not, then, if Cavaliers we see 
 (By ample proof within this Drollerie,) 
 Chose Mirth alone, quaffing too much of Sherry. 
 
 Merry and Wise ! Welcome be smiles of youth, 
 On lips not yet in anguish blenched or bitten ; 
 Be sportive gambols of each lamb and kitten ! 
 He who would banish Mirth is scant of ruth : 
 Why should grim visages repel from Truth ? 
 Soon shall the joyous heart be cold, or smitten. 
 
 Merry and Wise ! True text for books like ours, 
 Which tell of troubled times, and men half frantic, 
 Drunk with a short-lived glee, playing their antic. 
 
 Seek for more innocent mirth, and fragrant bowers 
 That show no reptile-slime upon the flowers : 
 Shun Mirth that stains, and Wisdom grown pedantic. 
 
 J. W. E. 
 
 May, 1875. 
 
v^v 
 
 EDITORIAL 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO THE 
 
 MERRY DROLLERY, COMPLETE : 
 1661, 1691. 
 
 Malvolio. — " My Masters, are you mad ? or what are you? Have 
 you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like 
 tinkers at this time of night ? Do ye make an ale- 
 house of my Lady's house, that ye squeak out your 
 Coziers' Catches without any mitigation or remorse 
 of voice ? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor 
 time, in you ? 
 
 Sir Toby. — We did keep time, Sir, in our Catches. Sneck up ! 
 
 Maria. Sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. 
 
 Sir Andrew. — O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. 
 
 Sir Toby. — What, for being a Puritan ? thy exquisite reason, 
 dear Knight ? 
 
 Sir Andrew. — I have no exquisite reason for 't, but I have reason 
 good enough." — (Twelfth Night. A6t ii. sc. 3.) 
 
 § i. Merry Drollery, 1661. 
 W^^^^HEN the four "Lovers of Wit "col- 
 :||fy -j T ^ lected these Jovial Poems, Merry 
 ||| \/\/ ItC Songs, and Witty Drolleries, not for- 
 
 ■K - $H g ettm £ wnat are r igMy called pleasant 
 
 ■liS^ifOiO^I Catches, and produced them as 
 
 "Merry Drollery" in 1661, they gave us no more of 
 
 I preface or advertisement than the few lines following 
 
 b the 
 
11. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the original title-page, and addressed To the Reader. 
 They told us that many of the pieces " were obtained 
 with much difficulty, and at a chargeable rate," and we 
 see no reason to doubt the truth of the assertion. At 
 that time, doubtless, one or other of the compilers 
 must have known particulars of authorship and date 
 concerning a much larger number of the songs and 
 poems than is now attainable by learned students. 
 But W.N., C.B., R.S., and even the mysterious J.G., 
 have given us no help by a single note, and we must 
 do as well as we are able without them. Therefore, 
 it seems not unreasonable, (at the risk of some excep- 
 tional Subscriber grumbling because the meat is getting 
 cold, while his host fumbles with the carving knife), 
 that we ourselves should try to give an Introduction ; 
 as we attempted to do — not without pleasant meed of 
 thanks thereafter, from men the world holds high in 
 honour — when lately editing the choice Westminster 
 Drolleries. 
 
 But we are like the Scottish wight who gained 
 wealth and fame, to a certain extent, by displaying to 
 view for a small charge a veritable Golden Guinea at 
 the Falkirk Tryst. Each beholder was delighted at 
 the time ; and the fortunate possessor was elated to 
 observe their pleasure, and to pocket the penny siller 
 that rewarded the exhibition. Alas ! a season of dearth 
 and penury soon followed in his experience, and under 
 
 pressure 
 
INTRODUCTION. iil. 
 
 pressure of some flinty-hearted landlord, or other 
 creditor, who, like a Polypus, maintained a mockery of 
 existence without any bowels, Tugalt parted with the 
 golden goose that had laid so many copper eggs. The 
 story runs, that he determinately offered himself 
 again at Trysting-time, and was hailed by many of the 
 drovers and stock-buyers with a request to show the 
 guinea, while they gladly proffered the hire-penny as 
 reward. Having no longer any guinea to display, he 
 let them know that he, instead, would show the bag or 
 " pock " which used to hold the coin, and only charge 
 "ae bawbee for it;" expatiating on its beauty and 
 \ completeness, more than he had needed to declare 
 about the precious metal. 
 
 Such may be deemed our present situation. Of the 
 
 1 Westminster Drollery we deliberately proclaimed — 
 
 1 " There is no collection of songs surpassing it in the 
 
 language, and as representing the lyrics of the first 
 
 twelve years after the Restoration it is unequalled." 
 
 k We do not recall this statement, but are inclined to 
 
 affirm it anew. What then can we say in favour of 
 
 the " Merry Drollery? or of the final volume with 
 
 !( " Choice Drollery" and other rarities that is next to 
 
 follow ? Have we nothing but an empty bag to offer ? 
 
 Our Merry Drollery of 1661 is quite distinct in 
 
 Character from the Westminster Drolleries of 167 1, 
 
 [672, but forms an almost indispensible companion to 
 
 that 
 
IV. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 that ten years later volume. It is not only amusing 
 in itself, but as an historical document it is of great 
 value. Of the more than two hundred pieces con- 
 tained in Merry Drollery, Complete, (the edition of 
 1691, here re-printed page for page, line for line, and 
 letter for letter,) fully a third are elsewhere unattain- 
 able, and nearly all the rest are scarce. In its entierty 
 it was a favourite for at least thirty years, until its 
 political attractions were superseded by fresh embroil- 
 ments calling forth new satires, lampoons, and par- 
 odies, when the Restored Stuarts were once again 
 a banished family, never more to recover the English 
 throne and crown. Some few of its social and 
 mirthful portraitures still lingered in the memory of 
 the people, but new comicalities displaced the old, no 
 whit more decent or refined for a century at least, but 
 simply tempting by their novelty. And now, when 
 most of the old merriment has gained an archaeologic 
 rust, and things antiquated have risen in value by 
 becoming ancient (to borrow a contrast from the late 
 Lord Lytton), we believe that acceptance may be 
 found among students of old literature for this our 
 scrupulously-accurate re-print of Merry Drollery, Co7?i- 
 plete. It should be observed that the few rectifications 
 of a corrupt text are invariably shown, by being held 
 within square brackets, when not reserved for the 
 Appendix of Notes, Illustrations, and Emendations. 
 
 The 
 
INTRODUCTION. V. 
 
 The only alterations made, additional, are in a few 
 cases of departure from the mere accident of broken 
 words in the original, caused by an insufficient length 
 of line. In almost all cases, even this typographical 
 peculiarity, when extended to words displaced, has 
 been retained. The Editor is responsible for them. 
 
 As mentioned on the title-page, we follow the en- 
 larged edition of 1691. Twenty-five songs and poems, 
 that had not appeared in the 1661 edition, were added 
 to the subsequent editions ; but they effected no 
 material change in the character of the work. Dis- 
 placed to make room for them, as for other reasons 
 not declared, thirty-four songs after appearing in the 
 edition of 1661 were now omitted. These we shall 
 I give separately in a companion volume ; most of them 
 , are rare, and only known to us in this most scarce 
 early edition. The intermediate edition of 1670 also 
 deserves notice, but agrees virtually with that of 169 1. 
 Among the numerous attractions of our present 
 work, we may mention the rare song of " Love lies 
 bleeding " (found on p. 191) : an earnest protest against 
 jl the evils of the days when Parliament and Army were 
 ; struggling for the mastery, and the country suffered 
 • from the exactions of both. It is only here that we 
 [] know of it complete. " Lay by your pleading, Law 
 lies a bleeding," its companion song and model, to 
 J the same tune, is also given (p. 125), entitled " The 
 
 Power 
 
VI. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Power of the Sword." Such contemporary records as 
 these, with many others in the same volume, enable 
 us to realise the situation. Let us mention some, as 
 being closely connected : " Pym's Anarchy" (70) ; 
 "The Scotch War" (93); " Mardyke" ( 1 2 ) ; "The 
 New Medley of the Country-man, the Citizen, and the 
 Soldier" (182) ; " The Rebel Red Coat" (190) ; and 
 "Cromwell's Coronation" (254); with the masterly 
 description of Oliver's Routing the Rump (52). Nor 
 must be forgotten the burlesque extravagance, by 
 worthy Bishop Richard Corbet, of a zealous Puritan, 
 utterly crazed in fanaticism and conceit (234). This 
 was written in earlier days (Corbet died about 1638), 
 when Cavalier and Churchman laughed at the extra- 
 vagance of the Puritan ; scarcely foreseeing how grim 
 in power would be those stalwart Ironsides of Crom- 
 well, who afterwards exultingly stabled their horses 
 in Cathedrals, hacking wood-carvings of Prebendal 
 stalls with their sabres, burning organs and muniment 
 chests for fire-wood, and discharging muskets at 
 stained glass windows or sculptured saints ; savagely 
 haling men and women to prison or to execution : 
 and — believing themselves specially inspired and 
 chosen to bind kings in chains and nobles with links 
 of iron — praying fiercely before battles, in which they 
 bore down irresistibly upon the foe that had first in 
 ignorance despised them. 
 
 Nor 
 
INTRODUCTION. vii. 
 
 Nor without solid value to us are the few humour- 
 ous accounts of Puritans in their New England 
 settlements or infant colony beyond the Atlantic. 
 Though it is framed in mockery, something of an 
 earnest and impressive fervour speaks in the Zealous 
 Puritan (p. 95), who gathers his family and friends 
 together, about to voyage across seas to seek " free- 
 dom to worship God." This was recorded nearly two 
 hundred years later in the hymn by Felicia Hemans, 
 which has for ever become associated with the Pilgrim 
 Fathers of the Mayflower, 1620. Unfortunately, their 
 Puritan followers failed to learn the lesson of Tolera- 
 tion. Unlike Sterne's negro girl, they had suffered 
 persecution, but not learned mercy, or even justice. 
 They ruthlessly murdered Quakers, and others who 
 claimed right of private judgment in religion, and 
 shewed more cruelty to Anne Hutchinson, Mary Dyer, 
 Robinson, Stevenson, and many more, than they had 
 ever borne themselves from their enemies. As the 
 Rev. J. B. Marsden says, of the time when they 
 savagely silenced with drums, and then butchered, the 
 Quakeress Mrs. Mary Dyer on the first of June, 
 1660, at Boston Common : — " The brand of that day's 
 infamy will never disappear from the annals of Mas- 
 sachusetts, nor from the story of the Pilgrim Fathers." 
 (History of the Early Puritans, p. 324.) 
 
 We may smile at the quaint directness of the 
 
 narrative 
 
Vlll. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 narrative, in reading " The West-Countryman's 
 Voyage to New England" (p. 275); but while we 
 smile, we can see the incidents clearly, as they might 
 have been beheld by more friendly eyes. No wonder 
 he was willing to quit the land after he had " staid 
 there among them till he was weary at heart," even 
 independently of the crowning grievance that he " had 
 threescore shillings for swearing to pay." If personal 
 luxuries are to be so heavily taxed it is distressing. 
 We may be sure that he was in earnest when he 
 declared " Itch do think they shall catch me go 
 thither no more." 
 
 Even the Captain of the Mayflower himself, if we 
 may credit that impartial witness Professsor H. W. 
 Longfellow, had become heartily tired of his pious 
 companions : — 
 
 " Meanwhile the Master alert, but with dignified air and 
 important, 
 
 Scanning with watchful eye the tide and the wind and the 
 weather, 
 
 Walked about on the sands ; and the people crowded 
 around him, 
 
 Saying a few last words, and enforcing his careful remem- 
 brance. 
 
 Then, taking each by the hand, as if he were grasping a 
 tiller, 
 
 Into the boat he sprang, and in haste shoved off to his 
 vessel, 
 
 Glad in his heart to get rid of all this 'worry and flurry, 
 
 Glad 
 
INTRODUCTION. IX. 
 
 Glad to be gone from a land of sand and sickness and 
 
 sorroiv, 
 Short allozvance of victual, and plenty of nothing but 
 
 Gospel." 
 Again, when yielding to the sly humour of " The 
 Way to Woo a Zealous Lady " ( 77), we must be hard 
 to impress if no conviction is formed that even thus 
 dangerous to silly women were many who assumed 
 for their own purposes the Puritan disguise, and 
 were ready to wear whatever mask might be in 
 fashion. Some hidden joke against the Citizens, 
 known to contemporaries, but now almost beyond 
 discovery, enhanced the mirthfulness of even such 
 absurdity as " The Bow Goose" (153). The account 
 of a Fire on London Bridge (87), gains all its gro- 
 tesqueness from being in the manner of pious ballad- 
 mongers, such as framed some of those doleful ditties 
 of Providential Warning and Goodly Counsels that 
 were dispersed on broadsheets to the delectation of 
 the faithful. To us it gains some interest when seen 
 to be the original of the still-familiar and condensed 
 Nursery rhyme : 
 
 " Three Children sliding on the Ice, 
 All on a summer's day ; 
 
 It so fell out they all fell in, 
 The rest they ran away. 
 
 But had these children been at Church, 
 
 Or sliding on dry ground, 
 I durst to wage a hundred mark 
 
 They had not then been drown'd. You 
 
X. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 You parents that have children dear, 
 
 And eke you that have none, 
 If you would have them safe abroad, 
 
 Pray keep them safe at home." 
 
 (M. Cooper's Philomel, 1744, p. 209.) 
 
 Stories of Countrymen astonished at the rarities of 
 London Town have always been a source of glee, and 
 one is here (323), as well as a description of the New 
 Exchange with all its curious wares, not forgetting the 
 Buttoned Smock (134). The changes in Old Eng- 
 land, almost turned to New (266), and the censure of 
 the Apostate World ( 79 ), as well as the contrast 
 afforded by an Old Soldier of the Queen's (31) and 
 the still earlier description of the defeat of Spain and 
 her Armada in eighty-eight (82), lend zest to the 
 Cromwellian contrast. A few whimsical stories in 
 verse are of the ruder humour which has always been 
 popular; A Merry Song of a Husbandman, whose 
 wife cleverly gets him released from a bad bargain, 
 cheating the Devil (p. 17), or the still coarser tale on 
 a similar theme (no) : a tale that, with frequent vari- 
 ations, meets us often elsewhere. Both are narrated 
 with a homely directness, not unlike the free handling 
 which worthy Mat. Prior delighted in \ and which, we 
 are assured by Dr. Johnson, did not hinder the Poems 
 of Hans Carvel, the Dove, and Paulo Purganti from 
 being, even until close on the end of last century, " a 
 Lady's Book." Well then, by right of way established 
 
 by 
 
INTRODUCTION. XL 
 
 by Dr. Richard Corbet, Bishop successively of Oxford 
 and Norwich (p. 234, and see his "Journey into 
 France," edit. 1661, p. 64), and probably by Arch- 
 bishop Usher likewise (p. no), the Merry Drollery 
 may, perhaps, be regarded as a Bishop's Book; if 
 that be any compliment and recommendation. Even 
 the Puritans and Sectaries would not have objected to 
 it being so esteemed. But they held none of the 
 Drolleries in favour \ Choice Drollery being treated by 
 them with the utmost rigour, so that its rare occurrence 
 now is not anyway marvellous. 
 
 § 2. — The Ballads and the Commonwealth. 
 
 No good end can be served by exaggerating the 
 importance of political ballads. We may leave the 
 continually misquoted words of Fletcher of Saltoun 
 quietly in a corner, for once, regarding the popular 
 songs of a nation ; inasmuch as, if the phrase he em- 
 ployed means anything at all, it makes quite as much 
 for falsehood, and the misleading of public opinion, as 
 it does for inducing sound judgment. The facts of the 
 case are not hard to discover. Who among us would 
 be willing to accept as final the verdict of some street 
 rhymester or Mug-house politician, even although it 
 found acceptance with a multitude of the gross vulgar ? 
 tYour ballad-monger, your inventor of " Cocks," your 
 penny-a-liner for the prints that circulate amidst what 
 
 we 
 
Xll. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 we irreverently term the Masses or the Million, have 
 so little personal respect for Truth, that they not only 
 are unwilling to misemploy their time in a wild-goose 
 chase after her, but they actually yield a determined 
 preference to falsehood, on account of it leaving them 
 such unrestricted play of fancy as may satisfy their 
 self-conceit. No need to specify offenders. So long as 
 such catch-pennies circulate, and attract attention, the 
 originators heed not what amount of adulteration 
 may have become mingled with a semblance of truth. 
 As the manufacture of a fraudulent account is easier 
 than investigating conflicting evidence, let us not 
 wonder that these caterers for the public give pre- 
 ference to what is untrue. 
 
 A remembrance of this tendency to falsify ought to 
 accompany our examination of such historical ballads 
 or political songs and satires as may be proffered, as- 
 suming to be important contributions to a knowledge 
 of history. Lord Macaulay, it is well known, was the 
 most skilful employer of the varied hints and details, 
 gathered by combined industry and intelligence, from 
 amid those dusty archives of the mob, broadsides, 
 garlands, penny merriments, and song-books, manu- 
 script or printed. But, it is fair to the memory of that 
 sound-hearted man and captivating historian to re- 
 member, that in most cases he attached no more 
 importance to those fugitive records of the past than 
 
 was 
 
INTRODUCTION. xiii. 
 
 was their due. They enriched his pages, and gave 
 them colour, but he sought elsewhere for his ground- 
 work and outline. His chief, and almost his only, 
 fault was an obstinate retention of any expressed 
 opinion of his own, despite the weight of opposing 
 evidence that might be afterwards brought to bear 
 against it. He knew, as well as anybody, that a per- 
 son who by some accident or other becomes a favourite 
 or object of aversion to " the many-headed," can 
 either be painted brightly or bespattered foully by the 
 Balladist who seeks for praise and pence, with total 
 independence of all facts or even probabilities. And 
 the prejudice extends much higher in the social scale 
 than we are at all times ready to admit. We greedily 
 accept whatever seems to favour our particular choice, 
 and as willingly acknowledge the sufficiency of any- 
 thing that tells against the persons or the practices 
 honoured by our hatred. 
 
 We do not, therefore, attach extraordinary weight to 
 the historical evidence afforded by the songs against 
 the Rump Parliament in Merry Drollery. Partizan 
 spirit has been busy, and where such is the case there 
 is always a likelihood that the features of the individual 
 portraiture may be more than a little distorted. But, 
 after making this concession, we think it will be ad- 
 mitted that such materials as we have in this volume, 
 combine fairly with what is told elsewhere by State 
 
 enactments, 
 
XIV. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 enactments, proclamations, digests, and private diaries 
 or biographies. They reveal a most uncomfortable 
 state of affairs, political and social, in the closing days 
 of the Long Parliament. Not even so large a col- 
 lection of avowedly " malignant " writings, as the 
 celebrated " Rump" Ballads of 1660 and 1662, could 
 show us, so well as our own more varied Drolleries, 
 how men thought and acted, murmured under op- 
 pression, paltered with the truth, sotted and rotted in 
 foul corners, slinking out of danger, and cherishing a 
 hope of revenge or licentious revelry, while the iron 
 hand of Despotism tried to fetter the nation, and 
 sanctimonious schismatics warred with one another for 
 supremacy. 
 
 Of late days, thanks in great part to the labours of 
 Thomas Carlyle, we have learned to understand what 
 true greatness there was in one man, who alone was 
 able to keep the troubled realm in order ; who both 
 by his own right arm and by his skilful management 
 of others, each the right worker in the fitting place 
 and at the proper time, secured more of success for 
 this our Commonwealth than could reasonably have 
 been expected, when remembering what mutually- 
 antagonistic natures composed the government. As 
 one of our songs declared of that day (p. 167), "We 
 are fourscore Religions strong I" And it is noteworthy 
 that, while contempt and abhorence are lavished on a 
 
 host 
 
 
INTRODUCTION. XV. 
 
 host of selfish, arrogant, or hypocritical time-servers, 
 there is a very different treatment accorded to Oliver 
 Cromwell. Jests are frequent on his copper nose, it 
 is true, and on his supposed early connection with 
 brewing vats ; the steps of his advancement are satiric- 
 ally chronicled, and his assumption of almost regal 
 power. Nevertheless, it is evident that personally he 
 is regarded with more favour than the hated Harrison, 
 the contemptible Lambert, Hewson the one-eyed 
 Cobbler, the gloomy Bradshaw, or Hugh Peters the 
 fanatical Tub-preacher ; than the licentious buffoon 
 (as he was held to be) Henry Marten, or the prosy 
 and intolerable Sir Harry Vane, from whom Cromwell 
 himself solemnly prayed to be delivered. Even as, in 
 earlier days, the bloodthirstiness, rapacity, and un- 
 bridled lust of the huge Henry VIII. did not destroy 
 the popularity he enjoyed as " bluff King Hal ;" so, it 
 is evident, the harsh discipline and oppressive exac- 
 tions of Oliver Cromwell, with all the manifestations 
 of his selfish ambition and indulgence in regal pomp 
 and splendour, did not altogether hinder him from 
 being regarded with affection among the Cavaliers 
 themselves, who learnt to talk of him familiarly as 
 " Old Noll." Had it not been for the remembrance 
 of one black deed, — the written consent he had given 
 in 1649 t° tne useless slaughter of their King, Charles 
 I., — there can be no doubt that Oliver had grown to 
 
 be 
 
XVI. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 be understood and liked sufficiently, even by those 
 who had wagered their lives against him, to have been 
 accepted as their lawful sovereign, if he had obeyed 
 the satirical command (p. 254) "Oliver, Oliver, take 
 up the Crown ! " 
 
 It has been the fashion of later years to try and 
 deify many of the inferior actors of that tragic drama, 
 and with prolix exactitude we have been treated to 
 the details of thoughts, words, and deeds of several 
 other Regicides, leaders in parliament if not in the 
 army. But the simple fact remains, that, in these 
 days of the Civil War and Protectorate, no figure stands 
 out as the embodiment of a stalwart Englishman, so 
 entirely commanding the sympathies of after-times, as 
 Oliver Cromwell himself. He was far from faultless, 
 but his rugged nature, his commanding abilities, and 
 a certain large-hearted honesty, even amid the per- 
 plexing intrigues and pious fraudulence of his com- 
 panions, lift him high above the crowd of usurpers. 
 His rude humour was, like that of the first Napoleon, 
 not unalloyed with horse-play and coarse jests : as 
 witness his unseemly inking Henry Marten's face when 
 signing the Royal death-warrant ; and his unsavoury 
 rejoinder when Magna Charta was mentioned to him, 
 as an impediment to some of his proceedings. The 
 extremely rigid formalists were incapable of seeing 
 anything agreeable in merriment; even as other 
 
 invalids 
 
INTRODUCTION. XVll. 
 
 invalids are afflicted with colour-blindness, or inability 
 to distinguish betwixt the fragrance of flowers and 
 those rank odours whereof Coleridge at Cologne 
 counted two-and-seventy distinct varieties, as indeed 
 he might have done in his own country. But the 
 reputation of Cromwell suffered not through indul- 
 gence of his pleasantries. On the contrary, such 
 unbendings from austerity drew many towards him. 
 His army loved him, like his own family; and the 
 contrast between true grandeur and pestilent incom- 
 petence was beheld whenever he had passed away, in 
 1658, and left The Gang of rival claimants, who were 
 all proved incapable to bend the bow of the dead 
 Ulysses. 
 
 The Restoration became a necessity, not so much 
 from a survival of enthusiastic love to the Stuarts as 
 from the intense disgust excited by the Parliament, 
 the Independents, and the disorganised soldiery. 
 These fell, chiefly owing to their own inherent 
 rottenness. How little was done to reward the hopes 
 of those who looked for establishment of a pure 
 exalted monarchy, avails not now to tell. 
 
 Of the conflict between Oliver and the men who 
 were endeavouring to dispossess him of the power he 
 held, few records surpass in value one contemporary 
 ballad (found here on page 62), filled with exultation 
 over the downfall of the Rump. What masterly 
 c satire, 
 
xvill. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 satire, cutting both ways, we find in the verse telling 
 of " brave Oliver's " rebuke to his old companion : — 
 
 " It went to the heart of Sir Henry Vane 
 
 To think what a terrible fall he should have : 
 
 For he who did once in the Parliament reign 
 Was call'd, as I hear, a dissembling knave. 
 
 Who gave him that name you may easily know, 
 'Twas one that studied the art full well ; 
 
 You may sivear it ivas true, if he calVd him so, 
 And hozu to dissemble I'm sure he can tell" 
 
 There is no mistaking it, despite this irresistible gibe 
 against Noll himself, he is the better loved for crushing 
 the horde of public enemies thus summarily. The 
 Commonwealth is divided against itself, and its fall is 
 known to be inevitable. There had been nothing 
 (scarcely excepting his incurable duplicity and con- 
 tinual breaches of faith) which had been charged 
 against the murdered King, during the Civil War — 
 and for which he was brought to trial in a dangerously 
 illegal manner, and slaughtered ruthlessly, — but what 
 was afterwards perpetrated against the constitutional 
 liberties of England by the men who had arrogated to 
 themselves the right to judge and execute their Sov- 
 ereign. 
 
 As helping us materially to understand those times, 
 which can never be without the gravest interest to us 
 while we remain a nation, the Merry Drollery, Complete, 
 is truly valuable, and now re-printed. Rtdentem dicere 
 verum quid vet at ? 
 
 § 3- 
 
INTRODUCTION. XIX. 
 
 § 3. The Writers of the Songs. 
 
 We need not go to Joseph Addison to learn that 
 " a reader seldom peruses a book till he knows whether 
 the writer of it be a black or a fair man, of a mild or 
 choleric disposition, married or a bachelor, with other 
 particulars of the like nature, that conduce very much 
 to the right understanding of an author." " Who 
 wrote it ? " is a question most of us are in the habit of 
 asking, when any book or song gives us pleasure. 
 Let us mention the writers of some songs and ballads 
 in Merry Drollery, Complete. 
 
 Ten of the Songs are by Alexander Brome, whose 
 gay spirit made him a favourite among the Cavaliers ; 
 his numerous Epistles in verse, preserved among his 
 Poems, prove the intimacy of his friendship with many 
 leading men, — Charles Cotton, Colonel Lovelace, 
 Thomas Stanley, &c. Though given to writing Bac- 
 chanalian ditties, he does not seem to have been of 
 dissolute habits, and his Muse is singularly decorous 
 in morals, like himself preferring Wine to W T omen. A 
 ' word here or there of plain language may exceed our 
 present forms of speech • but he never wantonly in- 
 dulges in foulness of thought or expression,, and we 
 ! love him well for his own sake, as also for the' friendly 
 . labours he encountered to print and publish his name- 
 sake Richard Brome's choice Comedies. Few of these 
 might have come down to us, but for such editorial 
 
 care. 
 
XX. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 care. He himself was reproached by a friend (J. B.) 
 for wasting his poetic gifts in mere Song-writing ; — 
 
 
 "Why pedler'st thus thy muse ? Why dost set ope 
 
 A shop of wit to set thefidlers up ? 
 
 Fie, prodigal ! canst statuated shine, 
 
 By the abuse of Women, praise of Wine ? 
 
 Or such like toyes, which every hour are 
 
 By every pen spu'd forth int' every ear ? 
 
 Thy comely Muse dress up in robes, and raise 
 Majestic splendour to thy wreath of bayes : 
 Don't prostitute her thus, her Majesty 
 (Like that of Princes) when the vulgar see 
 Too frequently, respect and awe are fled, 
 Contempt and scorn remaineth in their stead." 
 
 But we believe that Alexander Brome received quite 
 as much fame, and more instant popularity, for this 
 light work in his Lyrics, as he could have won by sus- 
 tained labours at such disturbed times. He answers 
 J. B. (who wrote a Tragedy, not traced, in 1652) : — 
 
 "If making Sonnets were so great a sin, 
 Repent; 'twas you at first did draw me in : 
 And if the making one Song be not any, 
 I can't believe I sin in making many. 
 
 But oh ! the Themes displease you, you repine, 
 Because I throw down Women, set up Wine : 
 Why that offends you, I can see no reason, 
 Unless, 'cause I, not you, commit the treason. 
 Our judgments jump in both, we both do love 
 Good Wine and Women ; if I disapprove 
 The sleights of some, the matter's understood, 
 I'm ne'er the less belov'd by th' truly good." 
 
 And 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXI. 
 
 And he plainly declares that, already, for having 
 written on some of those high themes, "of State- 
 matters, and affairs of Kings," his teeth had been 
 nearly beaten out by the Parliamentarians. He died 
 in 1665, within a lustre after the Restoration. 
 
 We feel less certain as to the authorship of Thomas 
 Jordan ; some of the flowers of his " Royal Arbor of 
 Loyal Poesie," 1664, being apparently of foreign 
 growth, and transplanted. But, probably we have to 
 thank him for the clever parody on Thomas Carew, 
 which describes "Pym's Anarchy" of 1642, beginning, 
 
 "Aske me no more why there appears 
 
 Dayly such troops of Dragooneers/' &c. (p. 70). 
 
 We know not to whose pen we are indebted for the 
 delightful companion-songs, " The Cavalier's Com- 
 plaint," beginning " Come, Jack, let's drink a pot of 
 Ale" (p. 52), with Answer to it, " I marvel, Dick, that 
 having been," &c. They lift our thoughts to con- 
 sideration of a nobler type of gentlemen than the 
 roysterers who brought discredit on the King's 
 party. Printed, and widely popular as a broadside, 
 within a few months after Charles the Second arrived 
 in London, they give trustworthy evidence of what 
 was felt and spoken by those gallant Royalists who 
 had so often imperilled life and liberty in his cause. 
 For him their cash and plate had been cheerfully 
 given, their estates had been seized and confiscated 
 
 by 
 
XX11. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 by the rebel Parliament, and their sufferings had 
 been borne patiently, until the last lingering hopes 
 were dispelled on beholding the personal unworthiness 
 of the monarch whom they had welcomed back to the 
 throne of his murdered father. We mark them 
 retreating, disappointed and disgusted, from the 
 Court, where gilded popinjays, sleekest time-servers, 
 and handsome wantons alone are cherished. We 
 remember an event of evil augury was recorded, that, 
 even on the night of that memorable twenty-ninth of 
 May, 1660; the royal birthday, moreover; when all his 
 Capital was a-blaze with bonfires, and filled with loyal 
 enthusiasm, and when many an earnest thanksgiving 
 to heaven was uttered by devoted Cavaliers who had 
 prayed for him and for his cause during more than ten 
 years of exile — the King himself was so lost to a sense 
 of common decency, as well as of honour and religion, 
 that he allowed it to become publicly notorious he was 
 then toying with Barbara Palmer, afterwards the 
 Duchess of Cleveland, at Sir Samuel Morland's house 
 in Lambeth. Thenceforward, all was in accordance 
 with the bad beginning. Female influence en- 
 slaved him, and the most easy and good-natured 
 of all monarchs, whose abilities as well as dispo- 
 sition had offered much for praise, lent himself 
 to such counsellors as not only degraded him per- 
 sonally, but also impoverished, humiliated and in 
 
 great 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxiii. 
 
 great part corrupted the nation. How gross was the 
 mismanagement, how foul were the orgies, we can 
 best understand by one fact, that those English Caval- 
 iers whose hearts were sound came speedily to regret 
 the triumph of their cause, and almost to lament the 
 passing away of the Commonwealth, which, although 
 intolerant, covetous, arrogant and cruel, had yet been 
 respected abroad for courage and high principle. So 
 much more unwilling are we, generally, despite 
 Hamlet's experience, to 
 
 "bear the ills we have, 
 than fly to others that we know not of." 
 
 Historically of deep significance is the dialogue (on 
 p. 131), "a Quarrel betwixt Tower-Hill and Tyburn," 
 referring to the expected execution of the Regicides. 
 There is no mirth here, scarcely any humour even 
 of a sardonic kind ; all is stern, bitter hatred and 
 scorn. It is not a ravening for blood, as though 
 revengefully afraid of the criminals escaping punish- 
 ment, but rather a contemptuous and cruel impatience 
 to cleanse the land from the presence of those who in 
 their day of power had shown themselves devoid of 
 mercy. Nothing but abhorrence salutes the miserable 
 and cowardly Hugh Peters, whose blood, it was felt, 
 would defile the scaffold on which braver men had 
 laid down their lives. The fanatical enthusiast Harri- 
 son, a ruthless tool of tyranny, and probably a mad 
 
 man, 
 
XXIV. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 man, had three days earlier died gallantly at the same 
 place, Charing Cross, (on 13th October, 1660,) as 
 became one who believed he saw the coming Mil- 
 lenium of the elect saints. On his way to execution, 
 some unfeeling spectator called out mockingly, "Where 
 is your good Old Cause ? " With a cheerful smile, the 
 dying man clapt his hand on his breast, and answered, 
 " Here it is ! I am going to seal it with my blood.'' As 
 he drew nearer to the gallows, beholding it, he seemed 
 transported with joy, and when asked how he did, 
 replied " Never better in my life," declaring that he 
 saw the crown of glory prepared for him. Sir Henry 
 Vane, we must admit, approved himself to be no un- 
 worthy follower of the ancient stoics and republicans 
 he admired, by the dignity wherewith he made his place 
 of butchery on Tower Hill become an altar of self- 
 sacrifice. After a long imprisonment, he suffered in 
 June, 1662. His address to the people had been 
 forbidden, and as he himself declared, " It is a bad 
 cause which cannot bear the words of a dying man." 
 Samuel Pepys had witnessed the execution of Harrison : 
 quaintly recording how at being hanged, drawn, and 
 quartered, he was " looking as cheerful as any man 
 could do in that condition ;" and how it was reported 
 that Harrison said " he was sure to come shortly at 
 the right hand of Christ to judge them that now had 
 judged him f and that "his wife do expect his coming 
 
 again." 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXV. 
 
 again." Pepys seems to have enjoyed the view of 
 several other such scenes of slaughter, and indeed all 
 sight-seeing was pleasant to him ; but he yields steady 
 testimony to the gallant bearing of Vane, who " in all 
 things appeared the most resolved man that ever died 
 in that manner, and showed more of heate than 
 cowardize, but yet with all humility and gravity." 
 Later, he mentions that " the courage of Sir H. Vane 
 at his death is talked on every where as a miracle." 
 And Will Swan declared to him that "Sir H. Vane 
 must be gone to Heaven, for he died as much a 
 martyr and saint as ever man did ; and that the King 
 hath lost more by that man's death than he will get 
 again a great while." There can be no question of the 
 fact that a reaction began to set in after beholding 
 such courage, and contrasting it with the misconduct 
 of those in power, whose loyalty could only manifest 
 itself in servility and persecutions. Let us confess, 
 however, that if there was not to be entire amnesty or 
 indemnity, such men as Hugh Peters were more fitted 
 for Tyburn tree than the block on Tower Hill : the 
 rabble rout of rebellion was not worthy of mingling 
 blood with those royalist soldiers who had died 
 valiantly, imploring a blessing on King Charles. 
 
 A score of songs were added, indeed several of 
 them had been written after the publication of Merry 
 Drollery \ the first edition, in 1661. Among them are 
 
 two, 
 
XXVI. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 two, from his comedies, by " Glorious John," whose 
 hey-day of popularity belongs properly to the date of 
 our Westminster Drolle?'ies. As we pass onward from 
 our earlier choice in poetry, — such time as Keats and 
 Tennyson allured us chiefly, with sensuous imagery 
 and artificial trickeries of pleasant sound — some of us, 
 whose love of verse is strong enough to have survived 
 the sturm und drang Zeit of youthful passion, and our 
 entrance on the practical business of middle age, feel 
 an ever-deepening sense of Dryden's grandeur. Other 
 men have surpassed him in the ability to harmonize 
 their powers, — powers immeasurably weaker than his, 
 and have secured a position in their country's litera- 
 ture by single poems complete in themselves, and thus 
 satisfying a fastidious taste. But of all the great, 
 capricious, blundering giants and heroic demi-gods in 
 the poetic Walhalla, none is more absolutely a crown- 
 less king of the Infanti Perditii than our almost-for- 
 gotten John Dryden. The robust manliness, the 
 sound-heartedness of this sturdy Englishman, against 
 whom faction clamoured loudly, is so imperishable 
 that his most grievous faults cannot efface his grandeur. 
 His worst utterances we are willing to forget, his errors 
 of judgment and of conduct are at once condoned, by 
 all who have learnt to know him thoroughly. His 
 genius was irregular, it is true, but it was genius such 
 as few have equalled. His grasp of power once laid 
 
 on 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXV11. 
 
 on us, the sustained strength and beauty of his verse, 
 
 "The long majestic march, and energy divine," 
 once fairly recognised, he is mighty enough to hold us 
 bound to him for ever. He was alike the sociable and 
 homely-attired Citizen, who gave delight to a circle of 
 admiring Wits at coffee-houses ; and yet, when a dress- 
 suit was donned and actors were obsequious, the Play- 
 wright whom a clamourous public set to task-work, 
 loving somewhat to excess bombastic rant and courtly 
 gallantry : whose tragedy queens bespoke their sorrows 
 in rhymed couplets, and whose impassioned heroines 
 threw overboard their modesty, with less compunction 
 than measly pork is cast into the deep within the 
 Tropics. Glorious John ! He could captivate men 
 with his flowing talk at Wills', and no less bind 
 attention to his pages by vivacious criticism in spark- 
 ling Prefaces, that half disguised the soundness of 
 their common-sense by seeming to have been written 
 without more premeditation than his daily gossip. 
 What scores of lesser men are talked about, and com- 
 mented on by learned Pundits, to the world's admira- 
 tion, simply because they are the lesser and more 
 easily measured; while Dryden in unwieldy folios 
 remains comparatively unread, unpraised. Yet was he 
 the creator of the loftiest satires in the English lan- 
 guage, the writer of a manly, masterly prose style, dis- 
 tinct from all preceding, the voluminous author of 
 
 translations, 
 
XXVlll. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 translations, panegyrics, fables, and odes, beside trage- 
 dies and comedies that enwrap two score of songs 
 delightfully musical, and not so naughty as to sin 
 beyond forgiveness. Even such trifles as we have here 
 from him (on pp. 171, 292) are pleasant gifts that we 
 can thankfully receive. 
 
 His friend and fellow-workman, Sir William D'Ave- 
 nant, yields us two other songs : One of which helped 
 Mistress Mary Davis, the lady who first sang it, to a 
 reversion of the heart of our inflammable "Old Rowley." 
 " My lodging is on the cold ground," is here, and also 
 another half-phrensied but pathetic ditty, a sort of 
 dirge, " Wake all you dead, what ho ! " (pp. 290, 151). 
 The Anacreontic, beginning " The thirsty earth drinks 
 up the rain," meets us (on p. 22) from one of the 
 three friends who feasted D'Avenant with praise for 
 his poem of "Gondibert" (concerning which un- 
 finished Epic, see the lampoons from mocking wits, 
 on pp. 100, 118) : that "melancholy Cowley," whose 
 " Essays in Prose and Verse," left as a legacy, and 
 published by Bishop Sprat, 1668, are among the most 
 delicious that were ever penned ; and whose choice 
 " Chronicle" of imaginary Mistresses, 
 
 " Margarita first possest, 
 
 If I remember well, my breast," &c, 
 
 we prize more highly than his ambitious " Davideis," 
 or the " Davideidos." 
 
 Some 
 
 >me 
 

 INTRODUCTION. XXIX. 
 
 Some doubt exists as to whether we owe to William 
 Cavendish, first Duke of Newcastle, the lively Song 
 (p. 237) "I doat, I doat, but am a sot to show it." It 
 is partly quoted in his " Triumphant Widow," written 
 during exile, but not printed until 1677. We have it 
 complete in the 1661 edition of Merry Drollery. It 
 is certainly in his spirit, and until the claim of another 
 author to it has been proved by demonstration we 
 may hold it to be his. 
 
 Fortunately, no doubt afflicts us concerning whom 
 we have to thank for that gay " Ballad on a Wedding," 
 and that mirthful record of " Apollo's Session of the 
 Poets," which adorn our volume (pp. 101, 72). To 
 Sir John Suckling be the praise for verses that never 
 lose their charm. Men jested upon him for his 
 gaudily-attired hundred horsemen, whose tailoring 
 surpassed their prowess and their service in the field : 
 
 u Sir John got him on an ambling Nag, 
 
 To Scotland for to ride a, 
 With a hundred horse more, all his own he swore, 
 To guard him on every side a/' &c. 
 
 — (Musarum Delicite.) 
 And again — 
 
 " I tell thee, Jack, thou gav'st the King 
 So rare a present, that no thing 
 
 Could welcomer have been ; 
 A hundred horse ! beshrew my heart. 
 It was a brave heroic part, 
 
 The like will scarce be seen," &c. 
 
 — (Le Prince d 9 Amour.) 
 
 This 
 
XXX. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 This was answered by "J tell thee, fool, who e're thou 
 be," &c. {Ibid. 1660, p. 150.) Some lack of moral or 
 physical courage to repel and punish the ferocious 
 ruffianism of a Court-bully exposed Suckling to a 
 graver censure ; and a degenerate namesake, so lately 
 as 1836, had the vile mendacity to insinuate without 
 proof a charge of suicide. But always by us must Sir 
 John Suckling be lovingly remembered for some of 
 the daintiest bewitching poems of love and merriment. 
 One who assailed him ridiculously in the verses to the 
 tune of "John Dory," referred to above, viz., Dr. 
 James Smith (unless the mockery came from his friend 
 Sir John Mennis) gave us " The Song of the Black- 
 smith (p. 225), having the burden of " Which no body 
 can deny." For fully sixty years men seemed never 
 weary of repeating it. We have another, and much 
 more rare, Blacksmith Song (p. 319) • as well as two 
 songs in ironical praise of " The Brewer," in reference 
 to stout old Oliver Cromwell, whose family connection 
 with the maltster's trade was no more forgotten than 
 Hewson's with cobbling, and Harrison's with that of a 
 butcher : which trades seemed congenial to them. 
 
 Two other gallant Cavalier Poets, William Cart- 
 wright and Robert Herrick, are represented here, 
 although only by a brief song from each, charming 
 lyrists as they were (pp. 289, 199). Cartwright had 
 given brilliant promise as a dramatist before he gained 
 
 fresh 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxxi. 
 
 fresh fame as a preacher, and like Thomas Randolph 
 died young. Still earlier voices are heard echoing 
 through our pages. A few lingering strains from the 
 survivor of that literary brotherhood Beaumont and 
 Fletcher (himself, alas! prematurely snatched away in 
 all the ripeness of his manhood), greet us here (on pp. 
 92, 109, 196). There is an exuberance of mirth and 
 poetry in John Fletcher that has rarely if ever been 
 equalled. In this he takes after the man whom he 
 loved to follow, and sometimes playfully to parody, 
 William Shakespeare \ even as John Phillips mocked 
 the Miltonic style in his " Splendid Shilling," yet all 
 the while loved the bard of Paradise Lost, and took 
 him as exemplar in most things that he wrote. Ben 
 Jonson, Thomas Middleton, Richard Brome, and 
 Thomas Heywood, dramatic brethren all dead before 
 the date of Merry Drollery \ were not forgotten in it, 
 or left without a verse from each to keep their memory 
 green. 
 
 To " rare Ben Jonson" is another tribute, however, 
 oddly expressed by Dr. Henry Edwards in the high- 
 flown praise of Sack, with all its embodied transfor- 
 mations, beginning " Fetch me Ben Jonson's scull, and 
 fill ; t with Sack " (p. 293). Like many another bard 
 of those wild days, he cannot resist defaming Ale, 
 while yielding a laudation to the Vine. How he 
 finds heresie in hops, and condemns beer to be given 
 
 to 
 
xxxil. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to Calvin and his disciples, is not quite clear. It was 
 Luther who, if not misrepresented, told a grievously 
 self-tormented casuist, beseeching ghostly counsel as a 
 medicine, to " Drink beer, and dance with the girls ! " 
 advice which, if the brew were good and lasses young 
 and pretty, was by no means to be sniffed at, except 
 by the degenerate Barebones sectaries or Agnewites. 
 By many a roystering Cavalier (see p. 121) excuse was 
 made that he abhorred malt liquor, from its connection 
 with Noll Cromwell and his brewery. A reveller, 
 overcome by potations, mentions the Brewers Dog as 
 having bitten him (p. 255); and another (p. 348) 
 acting anticipatively on homoeopathic theories, similia 
 similibus curantur, recommends a hair of the said dog 
 to be taken medicinally : — 
 
 " If any so wise is, that Sack he despises, 
 
 Let him drink small beer, and be sober, 
 
 Whilst we drink Sack and sing, as if it were Spring, 
 
 He shall droop like the trees in October. 
 
 But be sure if over-night this dog do you bite, 
 
 You take it henceforth for a warning, 
 
 Soon as out of your bed, to settle your head, 
 
 Take a hair of his tail in the morning/' &c. 
 
 In one of our songs we find a Lover so addicted to 
 his cups that he prefers Sack to his mistress, and his 
 mistress gives him the sack accordingly (pp. 304, 306) • 
 she yet shews sign of a relenting, if he will but quit his 
 bottle and be constant to herself. In much later days, 
 
 we 
 

 INTRODUCTION. XXXlii 
 
 we should remember, one jovial swain defended him- 
 self from a charge of fickleness, by pleading the 
 unfailing smiles of the goblet he loved better : — 
 
 "The Women all tell me I'm false to my Lass, 
 That I quit my poor Chloe, and stick to my glass ; 
 But to you, Men of Reason, my reasons I'll own, 
 And if you don't like them, why let them alone, 
 
 " Altho' I have left her, the Truth I'll declare, 
 I believe she was good, and I'm sure she was fair; 
 But goodness and charms in a Bumper I see, 
 That makes it as good and as charming as she. 
 
 u My Chloe had dimples and smiles, I must own, 
 
 But though she could smile, yet in truth she could frown, 
 
 But tell me, ye Lovers of Liquor divine, 
 
 Did you e'er see a frown in a Bumper of Wine ? 
 
 "Her Lillies and Roses were just in their prime, 
 Yet Lillies and Roses are conquer'd by Time ; 
 But in Wine from its age such a Benefit flows, 
 That we like it the better, the older it grows." 
 
 (5 verses more.) 
 
 "Then let my dear Chloe no longer complain ; 
 She's rid of her Lover and I of my pain ; 
 For in Wine, mighty wine, many comforts I spy; 
 Should you doubt what I say — take a Bumper and try." 
 
 1 This, sung by Beard, before 1754, or when remodelled 
 iin our own days, "They tell me I've proved unkind 
 to my Lass," is as complete a statement of the superior 
 advantages of the flask as could be desired. In Merry 
 Drollery there is somewhat too much about Sack. 
 But it is not unimportant, as indicating the besetting 
 d dangers 
 
XXXIV. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 dangers of the Cavaliers. Their enemies' cannon 
 balls had not damaged them so much as their friends' 
 grape. Nowadays, to our young men, Bitter Beer is 
 the peril. Cassandra gives warnings, but their rock- 
 ahead is the Bass. As Tom Hood used to say of his 
 Lieutenant, " The rock he split upon was quarts." 
 
 Although, for reason such as the above, Wine gained 
 more praise than Ale, we find that " A Cup of Old 
 Stingo" was recognized as being potent, and " Ale in 
 a Saxon Rumkin" had its Laureate, even in those days 
 of vinous revelry (pp. 140, 164, 259). Chocolate, 
 also, then coming into vogue for public drinking, as 
 soon as the Restoration gave license for more 
 sociality, has a special song in its honour, that we have 
 not found elsewhere (p. 48). And the best known 
 song of moralizing on Tobacco is seen adorning our 
 volume (p. 26). 
 
 Although drinking and love-making were favourite 
 themes among the Cavaliers, our English fondness for 
 field-sports shows itself in the brisk song of the 
 Angler's Recreations (p. 146), such as Izaak Walton 
 and his friend Charles Cotton delighted to troll 
 merrily. A Fox hunt (pp. 38, 300, 30), Coursing the 
 Hare (p. 296), Cock-fighting (242), and Sir Eglamore's 
 encounter with a stupendous dragon, which carries off 
 his trusty sword for an internal decoration (257), as 
 also the mirthful account of rare Arthur O'Bradley's 
 wedding festivities (312), help to vary the diversions. 
 
 Mirthful 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXXV. 
 
 i Mirthful rogues chant lustily their own praises, and tell 
 how they impose upon the sober citizens (204) : " The 
 
 ( Vagabond" sings of his numerous disguises, as lame, 
 blind, naked, maimed, disbanded, or shipwrecked, 
 
 i nay, even resorting in extremity to the likeness of an 
 honest hawker, " Oftimes to 'scape the Beadles." 
 Pedlers and Gipsies were always musical in their wan- 
 
 I derings from before the days of that incorrigible pilferer 
 
 1 Autolycus, whose lay contains so much of sound 
 
 i philosophy : — 
 
 " J°g on > j°g on the foot-path way, 
 
 And merrily hent the stile-a; 
 Your merry heart goes all the day ; 
 
 Your sad tires in a mile-a. 
 
 " Your paltry money-bags of gold, 
 What need have we to stare for? 
 
 When little or nothing soon is told, 
 And we have the less to care for. 
 
 " Cast care away, let sorrow cease, 
 
 A fig for melancholy ! 
 Let's laugh and sing, or, if you please, 
 
 We'll frolick with sweet Dolly." 
 
 — (Antidote against Melancholy .) 
 
 \ We are glad to find Autolycus, even at so late a date 
 ^as 1 66 1, far enough advanced on the path of Reform- 
 lation to confine his frollics to the companionship 
 
 of a Dolly, whether sweet or otherwise. His earlier 
 ^choice of his "aunts," when inclined to enjoy the hay 
 
 field (according to the unquestionable authority of 
 
 Shakespeare, 
 
XXXVI. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Shakespeare, at the beginning of the century, if not 
 
 earlier) was scarcely to be commended. Our excellent 
 
 friend Andrew Wilson could offer nothing of plea in 
 
 extenuation, beyond the admission that Autolycus 
 
 "his tastes were peculiar." In another gay " Song of 
 
 the Pedlers" (p. 291), beginning 
 
 " From the fair Lavinian shore 
 I your markets come to store/' 
 
 we are brought to what has been guessed at as a 
 possibly Shakesperian relic, certainly set to music by 
 that Dr. John Wilson who loved to be associated with 
 the lyrics of "Sweet Willy." For the Tinker of 
 Turvey (see p. 27); for Gipsies and Beggars (92, 197, 
 196, 230), and for praise of Sailors, Soldiers, and 
 Country ploughmen (162, 182, 338) these pages need 
 not be searched in vain. 
 
 Less of railing against Matrimony meets us at this 
 date than a few years later, when the Comedies in 
 favour were crammed full of jests against hood-winked 
 or hen-pecked citizens, and all the estimable gallants 
 seemed to take their motto from Rochester, "Never 
 Marry !" We have, it may be conceded, a satirical 
 praise of the Bull's Feather (p. 264), or, in other 
 words, of that matrimonial horn which was not absent 
 from the prognostics of Benedict, who sagely remem- 
 bered that no staff was so reverend as one tipped with 
 it. The lamentations of an ill-used husband (p. 85), 
 who finds his family newly increased after he has been 
 
 seventeen 
 

 INTRODUCTION. xxxvii. 
 
 seventeen months beyond seas, may be read with 
 varying emotions. As Mephistopheles mildly observes, 
 " She is not the first." One determined wife-hater 
 (p. 342), gives an almost exhaustive list of female can- 
 didates whom "persons about to marry" are carefully to 
 avoid. He leaves few to choose from. The expenses 
 of matrimony are summed up alarmingly to warn 
 Bachelors (23). Another singer (p. 302) admits, with 
 an affectation of candour sitting easily on him, 
 that "Some wives are good, and some are bad." 
 The manner in which the chorus take up any reference 
 to their individual help-mates is suggestive of a very 
 closely-tiled Lodge indeed, and no clock-case admitted 
 for fear of accident. 
 
 It would be intolerable if we found no love songs 
 
 here to relieve the atmosphere. Gladly we turn to 
 
 Nicholas Breton's song of 1580 (p. 99), telling of 
 
 Phillida and Coridon's wooing " in the merry month 
 
 of May." James Shirley's " Come, my Daphne," and 
 
 f A Rhapsody," may also be mentioned (91, 7) ; and 
 
 I the lively ditty, " Come, my delicate bonny sweet 
 
 1 Betty" (34). No one but the most rigid formalist 
 
 meed censure the sly fun of the whimsical confession 
 
 beginning, " I came unto a Puritan to wooe " (p. 77) ; 
 
 which is perfection in its own way : so dainty and 
 
 " pawky" in humour that we must go to the North, 
 
 beyond the Border, to find its equal. As Robert 
 
 Browning's dying but only half-penitent old sinner 
 
 admits, in his confessions : — "Alas, 
 
XXXVlll. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 " Alas, 
 We lov'd, Sir — used to meet : 
 How sad and bad and mad it was — 
 But then, how it was sweet ! " 
 
 It is not expected that this volume will ever be seen 
 by any one belonging to the gentler sex (would that 
 they were indeed all gentle ! but we have heard whispers 
 to the contrary • let us say, in other lands). Two or 
 three pages, here or there, that need not be specified, 
 are sufficiently objectionable to cause it to be " banned 
 and barred, forbidden fare." We may as well honestly 
 declare our intense disgust at such things, coarse, ribald, 
 and degraded, utterly destitute of humour as of excuse. 
 Like King Lear, we need an ounce of civet after compul- 
 sorily fingering them " to sweeten our imagination ! " 
 Students of old literature, we are not so ferociously 
 proper as to utter a war-whoop against every mild 
 impropriety. We do not go out of our way, like some 
 folks of pseud-anonymity whom we could mention, 
 to hunt for naughty words or double meanings. If 
 people will let us go on blindly, deafly, unregardingly, 
 and not poke us in the ribs with their clumsy fingers 
 (as S. T. Coleridge's neighbour at Drury Lane did, 
 quite unnecessarily, regarding Maturing "Bertram "), 
 we shall remain none the worse, and they will be all 
 the better. But our honest acknowledgment is, con- 
 cerning some few things in the Drollery, that if the 
 four original editorial " Lovers of Wit " had exercised a 
 
 more 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXXIX. 
 
 more rigid censorship, keeping out Sir John Denham's 
 and half-a-dozen other objectionable pieces, the book 
 would have been doubly welcome to nearly everybody 
 two hundred years ago, and now. An expurgated 
 edition is wholly valueless for antiquaries and historical 
 students : If an editor tampers with his original by 
 excision, few persons know where he may stop, or can 
 rely upon his discretion. Scissors are dangerous in 
 the hands of infants or pedants. Worse still, if he 
 leave out six bad things, and in mere ignorance or 
 slovenliness retain a seventh, readers are more shocked 
 and disquieted than when he tells them plainly that he 
 is not answerable for such selection, but preserves the 
 text with all its manifest corruptions. He marks up 
 Cave Canem, with a hint of spring-guns and Upas 
 trees. If anybody wander into quagmires after this, 
 it must be intentionally. 
 
 One word more : disagreeable as such flaws may be, 
 they are not without historical value, as showing pre- 
 cisely the plague spot and the canker-worm which ac- 
 count for mortality. Here, in whatever is foul, we see 
 the cause of the decay among the Cavaliers. This book 
 was essentially an offspring of the Restoration year, 
 1 660-6 1, and it thus gives us a genuine record of the 
 triumphant party of the Royalists in their festivity. 
 Whatever is offensive, therefore, is still of historical 
 importance. The bitterness of sarcasm against the 
 Rump Parliament, under whose rule so many families 
 
 had 
 
xl. INTRODUCTION. 
 
 had long groaned; the personal invective, the un- 
 sparing ridicule of leading Republicans and Puritans ; 
 were such as not unnaturally had found favour during 
 the recent Civil Wars and usurpation. The prepon- 
 derance of songs in praise of Sack and loose revelry is 
 not without significance. A few pieces of coarse 
 humour, double entendre, and breaches of decorum, 
 attest the fact that already among the Cavaliers were 
 spreading immorality and licentiousness. The fault of 
 an impaired discipline had borne evil fruit, beyond 
 defeat in the field and banishment from positions of 
 power. Mockery and impurity had been welcomed as 
 allies, during the warfare against bigotry, hypocrisy, 
 and selfish ambition. We find, it is true, few of the 
 sweeter graces of poetry in Choice Drollery, 1656, and 
 in Merry Drollery, of 1661 ; less than in the West- 
 minster Drollery of 167 1, '72 ; but, instead, even amid 
 the very faults and deficiencies, much that helps us 
 to a sounder understanding of the social, military, and 
 political life of those disturbed times immediately 
 preceding and following the Restoration. 
 
 J. W. E. 
 
 29TH May, 1875. 
 
Merry Drollery, 
 
 Compleat. 
 

MERRY 
 
 DROLLERY 
 
 COMPLEAT. 
 
 OR, A 
 
 COLLECTION 
 
 r Jovial Poems, 
 Of < Merry Songs, 
 \ Witty Drolleries, 
 
 Intermixed with Pleasant Catches. 
 
 The First Part. 
 
 Collected by W.N. C.B. R.S. J.G. 
 LOVERS OF WIT. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 Printed for William Miller, at the Gilded Acorn, in St. 
 Paul's Church-yard, where Gentlemen and others may be 
 furnished with most sorts of Acts of Parliament, Kings, 
 Lord Chancellors, Lord Keepers, and Speakers Speeches, 
 and other sorts of Speeches, and State Matters ; as also 
 Books of Divinity, Church-Government, Humanity, Ser- 
 mons on most Occasions, &c. 1691. 
 

[5] 3 
 
 TO THE 
 
 READER 
 
 Courteous Reader, 
 
 E do here present thee 
 with a Choice Col- 
 lection of Wit and 
 Ingenuity, many of 
 which were obtained with much 
 difficulty, and at a Chargeable 
 a 2 Rate ; 
 
6 [4] To the Reader. 
 
 Rate; It is Composed so as to 
 please all Complexions, Ages, 
 and Constitutions of either Sexes, 
 and is now Completed. 
 
 Farewel. 
 
 Merry 
 
[7] 5 
 
 Merry Drollerie. 
 
 A Rapsody. 
 
 QW I confess I am in love, 
 
 Though I did think I never could, 
 But 'tis with one dropt from above, 
 Whose nature's made of better mould : 
 So fair, so good, so all divine, 
 I'd quit the world to make her mine. 
 
 Have you not seen the Stars retreat 
 When Sol salutes our Hemisphear, 
 So shrink the Beauties, called great, 
 When sweet Rosela doth appear ; 
 Were she as other women are, 
 I should not love, nor yet despair. 
 
 But I could never wear a mind 
 Willing to stoop to common Faces, 
 Nor confidence enough can find 
 To aim at one so full of Graces ; 
 Fortune and Nature did agree, 
 No woman should be wed by me. 
 A3 
 
 Mirth 
 
6 [8] Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Mirth in Sorrow, 
 
 BE merry with Sorrow : why are you so sad ? 
 Let some mirth be found to make your heart 
 If troubles afflict thee, lament not therefore ; (glad : 
 For all men are subject to sorrows full sore. 
 
 Though grief be to night, yet joy comes to morrow, 
 And therefore, I pray you, be merry with sorrow. 
 
 With what grief soever a man be afflicted, 
 Unto over-much sorrow be not thou addicted, 
 For a sorrowful heart, the wise-man doth say, 
 Doth dry up the bones, and the body decay ; 
 And therefore I say, both evening and morrow, 
 In all thy afflictions be merry with sorrow. 
 
 Hast thou been a rich man, and now art thou poor ? 
 Be merry with sorrow, and pass not therefore ; 
 For riches have wings to fly when they lust, 
 Both to thee, and from thee, as God hath discust ; 
 And therefore I say, 6*£ 
 
 Art thou pinched with poverty, sickness, or need ? 
 Be merry with sorrow, the better to speed : 
 For God is the God of the poor and oppressed, 
 Commit thy cause to him, and it shall be redressed ; 
 And therefore I say, ore. 
 
 Art 
 

 Complete. [9] 7 
 
 Art thou close in Prison, and locked up fast ? 
 Whatsoever thy faults be, a God still thou hast : 
 Believe, serve, and fear him, thou shalt never lack, 
 If thou wilt cast thy cares on his back ; 
 And therefore I say, &>c. 
 
 Art thou a Minister the people to teach, 
 And dost thou study good words for to Preach, 
 And for thy labour dost thou sustain blame ? 
 Be merry with sorrow, and shrink not for shame ; 
 Such persons, I say, both evening and morrow, 
 Ought still to rejoyce, and be merry with sorrow. 
 
 Hast thou enemies abroad, that seek for thy life, 
 Or hast thou at home, a shrew to thy wife ? 
 Such sorrows, indeed, doth a number molest, 
 Those that be cumbred can tell their tale best, 
 For they do sustain many a sowre good-morrow, 
 But yet I could wish them to be merry with sorrow. 
 
 God make us all merry in Christ our Redeemer ; 
 God save merry England & our Good King for ever, 
 God grant him long years, and many to raign 
 His word and his Gospel now still to maintain : 
 
 And those that do seek to procure his sorrow, (row, 
 God send them short lives, not to live till to mor- 
 
 A4 
 
8 [io] Merry Drollerie, 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 AMarillis told her swain, 
 Amarillis told her swain, 
 That in love he should be plain, 
 And not think to deceive her, 
 
 Still he protested on his truth, 
 That he would never leave her. 
 
 If thou dost keep thy vow quoth shee, 
 If thou dost keep thy vow quoth shee, 
 And that now ne'er dost leave me, 
 There's never a swain in all this Plain, 
 That ever shall come near thee, 
 
 For Garlands and Embroidered Scrips, 
 
 For I do love thee dearly. 
 
 But Colin if thou change thy love, 
 But Colin if thou change thy love, 
 A Tigris then I'le to the[e] prove, 
 If ere thou dost come near me ; 
 
 Amarillis fear not that, 
 
 For I do love thee dearly. 
 
 The 
 
Complete. [u] 9 
 
 The Hectors and the Vintner. 
 
 CA11 for the Master, O ! this is fine, (wine 
 
 For you that have London's brave Liquors of 
 For us the Cocks of the Hectors [:] 
 Wine wherein Flies were drown'd the last Summer ; 
 Hang't let it pass, here's a Glass in a Rummer, 
 Hang't let it, &c. 
 
 Bold Hectors we are of Lo7idon, New Troy, 
 Fill us more wine : Hark here, Sirrah Boy, 
 Speak in the Dolphin, speak in the Swan, 
 Drawer Anon Sir, Anon. 
 Ralph, George, speak in the Star, 
 
 The Reckoning's unpaid ; we'l pay at the Bar, 
 
 The Reckoning's unpaid, &>c* 
 
 A Quart of Clarret in the Mytre score : 
 
 The Hectors are Ranting, Tom, shut the door ; 
 
 A Skirmish begins, beware pates and shins, 
 
 The Piss-pots are down, the candles are out, 
 
 The Glasses are broken and the pots flies about. 
 
 Ralph, Ralph, speak in the Chequer, By and by, 
 
 Robin is wounded, and the Hectors do flie, 
 
 Call for the Constable, let in the Watch, (match, 
 
 The Hectors of Holborn shall meet with their 
 
 The Hectors, &c. 
 
 At 
 
io [12] Merry D r otter ie, 
 
 At Midnight you bring your justice among us, 
 But all the day long you do us the wrong ; 
 When for Verrinus you bring us Mundungus : 
 Your reckonings are large, your Bottles are small, 
 Still changing our wine, as fast as wee call ; 
 Your Canary has Lime in't, your Clarret has Stum, 
 
 Tell the Constable this, and then let him come, 
 
 Tell the Constable, &*c. 
 
 The Jovial Lover, 
 
 ONce was I sad, till I grew to be mad, 
 But I'll never be sad again boys ; 
 I courted a riddle, she fancied a fiddle, 
 The tune does run still in my brain boys. 
 
 2. 
 The Gittarn and the Lute, the Pipe and the Flute 
 Are the new Alamode for the nan-boys ; 
 With Pistol and Dagger the women out-swagger 
 The blades with the Muff and the Fan boys. 
 
 3 
 All the Town is run mad, and the Hectors do pad, 
 
 Besides their false Dice and slur boys : 
 
 The new-formed Cheats with their acts and debates 
 
 Have brought the old to a demur boys. 
 
 4- 
 Men stand upon thorns to pull out their horns, 
 
 And to cuckold themselves in grain boys ; 
 
 When 
 
Complete. [13] 11 
 
 When to wear 'urn before, does make their heads 
 But behind they do suffer no pain boys. (sore, 
 
 5 
 The Protestant, Presbyter, Papist, and Prester yohn, 
 
 Are much discontented wee see boys : 
 
 For all their Religion no Mahomets Pidgeon 
 
 Can make 'urn be madder then we boys. 
 
 6. 
 There is a mad fellow clad alwaies in yellow ; 
 And somewhat his nose is blew boys ; 
 He cheated the divel, which was very evil 
 To him, and to all of his crew boys. 
 
 7. 
 But now he intends to make even amends 
 
 By wearing a crown of thorns boys ; 
 
 For him that is gone, but before it be one 
 
 We shall his humility scorn boys. 
 
 8. 
 For all our new Peers are turn'd out with jeers, 
 The new Gentlemen Lords are trapan'd boyes 3 
 Since the King, & no King, would pretend to a thing, 
 Which the Commons won't understand boyes. 
 
 9 
 
 And whilst we are thus mad, my Princess is glad 
 
 To laugh at the World, and at me boyes, 
 
 'Cause I can't apprehend what her colour command, 
 
 But it is not my self you see boyes. 
 
 Mar dike. 
 
12 [14] Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Mardike. 
 
 WHen first Mardike was made a Prey, 
 'Twas Canrea carried the Fort away, 
 And do not lose your Valorous Prize 
 By staring in your Mistris eyes, 
 But put off your Petticoat-Parley, 
 Fame and Honour are covered early ; 
 
 Potting and sotting, 
 
 And laughing, and quaffing of Canary 
 Will make good souldiers miscarry, 
 And ne'er travel for a true renown ; 
 And turn to your marshall Mistris, 
 Fair Minerva the souldiers sister is ; 
 
 Calling, and falling, and cutting, 
 
 And slashing of wounds Sir, 
 With turning, and burning, of Towns, are 
 High steps unto a Statesmans throne. 
 
 Let bold Bellonds Brewer frown, 
 And his Tun shall o'er flow the Town ; 
 Or give a Cobler sword and State, 
 And a Tinker shall trapan the State, 
 Such fortunate Foes as these be 
 Turned the Crown to a Cross at Naseby 
 Father and Mother, and Sister 
 
 
 And Brother confounded, 
 
 With 
 
 
Complete. [15] 13 
 
 With many good families wounded 
 
 By a terrible turn of State ; 
 
 Such plentiful power the sword has, 
 
 And so little of late the word has ; 
 He that can kill a man, 
 Thunder, and plunder precisely ; 
 
 It's he is the man that does wisely, 
 
 And may climbe to a Chair of State. 
 
 It is the sword that doth order all, 
 Makes Peasants rise, and Princes fall ; 
 All Syllogisms in vain are spilt [,] 
 
 No Logick like a basket hilt : 
 It handles 'urn joint by joint Sir, 
 And doth nimbly come to the point Sir, 
 
 Thrilling, and drilling, 
 
 And killing, and spilling profoundly, 
 Untill the despiter on ground lye, 
 And hath ne'er a word to say, 
 Unless it be Quarter, Quarter ; 
 Truth confuted by a Carter, 
 
 Whipping, and stripping, 
 
 And ripping, and stripping Evasions 
 Doth conquer the power of perswasions, 
 Aristotle has lost the day. 
 
 The Gown and Chain cannot compare 
 
 With Red-coat and his Bandeliers 
 
 The Musquets gave Saint Pauls the lurch, 
 
 And 
 
14 [16] Merry Drollerie, 
 
 And beat the canons from the Church, 
 The pious Episcopal Gown too ; 
 
 Taro, Tantaro, Tantaro, 
 
 Tantaro, the trumpet 
 Hath blown away Baby Ions strumpet, 
 And Cathedrals begin to truck, 
 Your Councellors are struck dumb too ; 
 
 Dub a dub, dub a dub, 
 
 Dub a dub dub, an alarum, 
 Each Corporal now can out-dare 'urn, 
 Learned Littleton now goes to rack. 
 
 Then since the Sword so bright doth shine 
 Let's leave our Wenches and our Wine ; 
 We'll follow Fate where ere she runs, 
 And turn our pots and pipes to guns : 
 The bottles shall be Grenadoes, 
 We will march about like bravadoes, 
 
 Huffing, and Puffing, 
 
 And snuffing and calling the Spaniard, 
 Whose brows have been dyed in a tann-yard : 
 Well-got fame is a Warriors wife, 
 The Drawer shall be a Drummer, 
 We'll be Generals all next summer, 
 
 Pointing, and jointing, 
 
 And hiking and tilting like brave boys ; 
 
 We shall have gold or a grave boys, 
 
 There's an end of a Souldiers life. 
 
 A 
 
Complete, 17 
 
 A merry Song. 
 
 OF all the Crafts that I do know, 
 That in the Earth may be, 
 Threshing is one of the weariest trades 
 That belong to husbandry. 
 
 Upon a time there was a poor man, 
 I swear by sweet Saint Ann, 
 And he had a wife and seven children, 
 And other goods had he none. 
 
 As he was a walking on the way, 
 
 Hard by a Forrest side, 
 
 There met him the divel, that Grisly Ghost, 
 
 This poor man to abide. 
 
 All hail, all hail, then quoth the divel, 
 I am glad to have met with thee ; 
 What is thy business in this Country 
 Thou goest so hastily? 
 
 (man, 
 I have a wife, and seven children, quoth the poor 
 And other goods have I none, 
 And I am to the Market going 
 To fetch them something home. 
 
 b Wilt 
 
8 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Wilt thou be my servant, quoth the divel, 
 And serve me for seven year, 
 And thou shalt have cattel and corn enough, 
 And all things at thy desire. 
 
 What shall be my office, quoth the poor man ? 
 I am loth to bear any blame ; 
 Thou shalt bring a beast unto this Forrest, 
 That I cannot tell his name. 
 
 If thou dost not bring me such a beast, 
 The name that I cannot tell, 
 Then both thy body and thy soul 
 Shall go with me to hell. 
 
 Indentures and Covenants were made anon, 
 
 And sealed by and by ; 
 
 The poor man he to the market went 
 
 So fast as he could high. 
 
 And when that he came home again, 
 
 Corn and Cattel he had anon : 
 
 O this was some Lord, then quoth the Poor man, 
 
 For to believe upon. 
 
 His neighbours dwelling round about, 
 They marvelled very much : 
 They thought he had either robb'd or stole, 
 He was become so rich. 
 
 But 
 
Complete. 19 
 
 But when the seven years was near expir'd, 
 And almost at an end, 
 He made his moan unto his wife 
 Which was his own dear freind. 
 
 What aile you, what aile you, husband, quoth she, 
 What ailes you so sad to be ? 
 You had wont to be one of the merriest men 
 In all the whole Country. 
 
 I have made a bargain, quoth the poor man, 
 I am loth to bear the blame : 
 I must carry the divel a beast to the Forrest 
 That he cannot tell his name. 
 
 If I don't carry him such a beast, 
 The name that he cannot tell, 
 Then both my body and my soul 
 Must go with him to hell. 
 
 Lie still, lie still then, quoth the good Wife, 
 
 Lie still and sleep a while, 
 
 And I will bethink me of a thing, 
 
 We will the devil beguil. 
 
 Buy Feathers and Lime, then quoth the good wife, 
 Such as men catch birds in, 
 And I will put off all my cloaths, 
 And roul them over my skin [.] 
 
 b 2 He 
 
20 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 He wrapt his wife in Feathers and Lime, 
 Till no place of her was bare, 
 He tied a string about her hams, 
 And led her for chapmens ware. 
 
 He led her backwards of all four, 
 Till he came to the Forrest side, 
 There met he the divel, that grisly Ghost, 
 This poor man to abide, 
 
 (man, 
 I have brought thee the beast, then quoth the poor 
 Thy bargain thou canst not forsake : 
 The devil stood as still as any stone, 
 And his heart began to quake. 
 
 What beast hast thou brought me, quoth the divel, 
 His cheeks they are so round ? 
 I thought there had not been any such beast 
 Brought up in all this ground. 
 
 I have looked East, I have looked West, 
 I have looked over Lincoln and Lyn, 
 But of all the beasts that ever I saw 
 I never saw one so grim. 
 
 Where is the mouth of this same beast ? 
 His breath is wondrous strong. 
 A little below, quoth the poor man, 
 His mouth stands all along. 
 
 That 
 
 
Complete. 2 1 
 
 That is a mad mouth, then quoth the divel, 
 It has neither cheeks nor chin, 
 Nay has but one eye in his head, 
 And his sight is wondrous dim. 
 
 If his mouth had stood but overthwart, 
 As it stands all a-length, 
 I would have thought it some Whale fish 
 Was taken by some mans strength. 
 
 How many more hast thou, quoth the divel, 
 How many more of this kind ? 
 I have seven more, then quoth the poor man, 
 But I left them all behind. 
 
 If thou hast seven more of these beasts, 
 The truth to thee I tell, 
 Thou hast beasts enough to scare both me, 
 And all the devils in hell. 
 
 Here take thy Indentures and Covenants too, 
 I'll have nothing to do with thee, 
 The poor man he went home with his wife, 
 And they lived full merrily. 
 
 B3 
 
 On 
 
Merry Drollerie, 
 
 On Drinking, out of Anacrion. 
 He thirsty Earth drinks up the Rain, 
 
 T 
 
 And drinks, and gapes for drink again; 
 The Plants suck in the Earth, and are 
 With constant drinking fresh and fair. 
 The sea it self, (which one would think 
 Should have but little need to drink,) 
 Drinks ten thousand Rivers up, 
 So filPd that they o'reflow the cup. 
 The busie Sun, as one would guess 
 By's drunken fiery face, no less 
 Drinks up the sea, and when that's done, 
 The Moon and Stars drinks up the Sun. 
 They drink, and dance by their own light, 
 They drink and Revel all the night ; 
 Nothing in Nature's sober found 
 But an eternall health goes round : 
 Fill up the boale, and fill it high, 
 Fill all the glasses here : for why 
 Should every creature drink but I ? 
 Thou man of moralls, tell me why. 
 
 The 
 
Complete. 23 
 
 The Married Estate, or Advice to 
 Batchelors and Maids. 
 
 TO freind and to foe 
 To all that I know 
 That to marriage estate do prepare ; 
 
 Remember your days 
 
 In severall ways 
 Are troubled with sorrow and care : 
 
 For he that doth look 
 
 In the married mans book, 
 And read but his Items all over, 
 
 Shall find them to come 
 
 At length to a sum 
 Shall empty Purse, Pocket, and Coffer : 
 
 In the pastimes of love, 
 
 When their labours do prove, 
 And the Fruit beginneth to kick, 
 
 For this, and for that, 
 
 And I know not for what, 
 The woman must have, or be sick. 
 
 There's Item set down, 
 
 For a loose-bodied Gown, 
 In her longing, you must not deceive her ; 
 
 For a Bodkin, a Ring, 
 
 Or the other fine thing, 
 
 b 4 For 
 
24 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 For a Whisk, a scarf, or a Beaver, [.] 
 
 Deliver'd and well, 
 
 Who is't cannot tell, 
 Thus while the Childe lies at the Nipple, 
 
 There's Item for wine, 
 
 And Gossips so fine, 
 And Sugar to sweeten their Tipple : 
 
 There's Item! hope, 
 
 For water and sope, 
 There's Item for Fire and Candle, 
 
 For better for worse, 
 
 There's Item for Nurse, 
 The Babe to dress and to dandle. 
 
 When swadled in lap, 
 
 There's Item for Pap, 
 And Item for Pot, Pan, and Ladle ; 
 
 A Corral with Bells, 
 
 Which custom compells, 
 And Item ten Groats for a Cradle ; 
 
 With twenty odd knacks, 
 
 Which the little one lacks, 
 And thus doth thy pleasure bewray thee : 
 
 But this is the sport, 
 
 In Country and Court, 
 Then let not these pastimes betray thee. 
 
 The 
 
Complete. 25 
 
 The Fashions. 
 
 THe Turk in Linnen wraps his head, 
 The Persian he's in Lawn too ; 
 The Rush with sable furs his Cap, 
 And change will not be drawn to ; 
 The Spaniard constant to his block, 
 The French inconstant ever, 
 But of all the Felts that may be felt 
 Give me the English Beaver. 
 
 The German loves the Cony-Wool, 
 
 The Irish man his shag too ; 
 
 Some love the rough, and some the smooth ; [delete.] 
 
 The Welsh his Monmouth use to Wear 
 
 And of the same will brag too ; 
 
 Some loves the rough, and some the smooth, 
 
 Some great and others small things : 
 
 But O the liquorish English man 
 
 He loves to deal in all things. 
 
 The Rush drinks quass, Dutch Rubrick beer, 
 
 And that is strong and mighty 5 
 
 The Brittain he Metheglin quaffs, 
 
 The Irish Aqica Vitcz ; 
 
 The French affects the Orlian Grape, 
 
 The Spaniard takes his Sherry, 
 
 The 
 
26 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 The English none of these can shape, ['scape] 
 But with them all make merry. 
 
 The Italian in his High Chippin, [her] 
 
 Scotch Lass, and comely Fro too ; 
 
 The Spanish Don a French Maddam [Donna,] 
 
 He will not fear to go to ; 
 
 Nothing so full of hazard, dread, 
 
 Nought lives above the Center : 
 
 No health, no fashion, wine, nor wench 
 
 Your English dare not venter. 
 
 On Tobacco. 
 
 TObacco that is withered quite 
 Grown in the morning, cut down at night, 
 Shews thy decay, 
 All flesh is hay ; 
 Thus think, then drink Tobacco. 
 
 And when the smoak ascends on high, 
 Think all thou seest is Vanity 
 
 Of earthly stuff, 
 
 Blown with a puff; 
 Thus think, then drink Tobacco. 
 
 And when the Pipes be foul'd within, 
 Behold the soul defiTd with sin, 
 
 To 
 
Complete. 2J 
 
 To Purge with fire 
 He doth require ; 
 Thus think, then drink Tobacco. 
 
 As for the ashes left behind, 
 They fitly serve to put 's in mind, 
 That unto dust 
 Return we must ; 
 Thus think, then drink Tobacco. 
 
 The Tinker of Turvey. 
 
 THere was a Jovial Tinker 
 Dwelt in the Town of Turvey, 
 And he could patch a Kettle well, 
 Though his humours were but scurvy ; 
 
 Still would he sing, tarra ring, tarra ring Tinke, 
 
 Room for a Jovial Tinker, 
 
 He'll stop one hole and make two, 
 
 Is not this a Jovial Tinker ? 
 
 He was as good a fellow 
 As Smug, which mov'd much laughter ; 
 You'd hardly think how in his drink, 
 He would beat his wife and daughter - 
 Still would he sing, 6% 
 
 He 
 
28 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 He walks about the Country, 
 With Pike-staff, and with Butchet, 
 Drunk as a Rat, you'd hardly wot 
 That drinking so he could trudge it ; 
 Still would he sing, &c. 
 
 There's none of his profession, 
 That hath such skill in mettle, 
 For he could mend the frying-pan, 
 The Skillet or the Kettle ; 
 Still would he sing, &*c. 
 
 To toss the Jolly tankard, 
 The black pot and the pitcher, 
 No Ale or beer to him was dear, 
 To make his nose the richer, 
 Still would he, &c. 
 
 He'd tink betime i' th' morning 
 Before the break of day, 
 For drinking dry he was willing, 
 To the Ale-house he went his way \ 
 Still would he, &»c. 
 
 He knockt so roundly at the door, 
 
 Which made them all to waken : 
 
 Who's there, quoth the maid? It's I, he said; 
 
 It's the Tinker foul, I'll take him ; 
 
 Still would he sing, tarra ring, tarra ring Tinke, 
 
 Room 
 
Complete. 
 
 Room for a Jovial Tinker, 
 
 He'll stop one hole, and make two, 
 
 Is not this a Jovial Tinker ? 
 
 Nonsence. 
 
 NOw Gentlemen, if you will hear 
 Strange news, as I shall tell you, 
 Where ere you go, both far and near, 
 You may boldly say 'tis true. 
 
 When Charing-Cross was a little boy, 
 He was sent to Rumford to buy swine ; 
 His mother made cheese, he drank the whay, 
 He never lov'd strong beer, Ale, nor wine. 
 
 When all the things in England died, [? Kings] 
 
 That very year fell such a chance, 
 That Salisbury plain would on horseback ride, 
 And Paris Garden carry the news to France. 
 
 When all the Laywers they did Plead [Lawyers] 
 
 All for love, and nought for gain ; 
 
 Then 'twas a Joyful world indeed ; 
 
 The blew bore of Dover fetcht apples out of Spain. 
 
 When Landlords let their farms cheap, 
 Because their tenant paid so dear ; 
 
 The 
 
30 Merry Drollerie. 
 
 The man in the Moon made Christmas Pyes 
 And bid the seven stars to eat good chear. 
 
 Without a Broker or Cony-catcher 
 Pauls Church-yard was never free ; 
 Then was my Lord Mayor a house thatcher, 
 Which was a wondrous sight to see. 
 
 When Basingstoke did swim on the Thames, 
 And swore all thieves to be Just and true ; 
 The Sumners and Bayliffs were honest men, 
 And Pease and Bacon that year it snew. 
 
 When every man had a quiet wife, 
 That never could once scold or chide ; 
 Tom Tinker of Turvey, to end all strife, 
 Roasted a Pig in a blue Cows hide. 
 
 T 
 
 A Catch. 
 He Hunt is up, 
 
 The hunt is up, 
 And now it is almost day, 
 And he that's abed with another man's wife, 
 It's time to get him away. 
 
 An 
 
Complete. 3 1 
 
 An old Souldier of the Queens. 
 
 OF an old Souldier of the Queens, 
 With an old motley coat, and a maumsie nose, 
 And an old Jerkin that's out at the elbows, 
 And an old pair of boots, drawn on without hose 
 Stuft with raggs instead of toes ; 
 
 And an old Souldier of the Queens, 
 And the Queens old Souldier. 
 
 With an old rusty sword that's hackt with blows, 
 And an old dagger to scare away the crows, 
 And an old horse that reels as he goes, 
 And an old saddle that no man knows, 
 
 And an old Souldier of the Queens, 
 
 And the Queens old Souldier. 
 
 With his old wounds in Eighty Eight, 
 
 Which he recover'd, at Tilbury fight \ 
 
 With an old Pasport that never was read, 
 
 That in his old travels stood him in great stead ; 
 
 And an old Souldier of the Queens, 
 
 And the Queens old Souldier. 
 
 With his old Gun, and his Bandeliers, 
 
 And an old head-piece to keep warm his ears, 
 
 With an old shirt is grown to wrack, 
 
 With 
 
32 Merry Dr oiler ie y 
 
 With a huge Louse, With a great list on his back, 
 Is able to cany a Pedler and his Pack ; 
 
 And an old souldier of the Queens, 
 
 And the Queens old souldier. 
 
 With an old Quean to lie by his side, 
 
 That in old time had been pockifi'd ; 
 
 He's now rid to Bohemia to fight with his foes, 
 
 And he swears by his Valour he'll have better cloaths, 
 
 Or else he'll lose legs, arms, fingers, and toes, 
 
 And he'll come again, when no man knows, 
 
 And an old souldier of the Queens, 
 
 And the Queen's old souldier. 
 
 Advice to Bachelours 
 
 IF thou wilt know how to chuse a shrew, 
 Come listen unto me, 
 I'll tell you the signs, and the very very lines 
 Of Loves Physiognomy. 
 
 If her hair be brown, with a flaxen crown, 
 
 And grac'd with a nutmeg hue, 
 Both day and night, she's best for delight, 
 
 And her colour everlasting true. 
 
 If her forehead be high, with a rolling eye, 
 And lips that will sweetly melt : 
 
 The 
 
Complete. 33 
 
 The thing below is better you know, 
 Although it be oftner felt. 
 
 If her hair be red, she'll sport in the bed, 
 But take heed of the danger though : 
 
 For if she carry fire in her upper attire, 
 What a divel doth she carry below ? 
 
 If her hair be yellow, she'll tempt each fellow ; 
 
 In the Immanuel Colledge : 
 For she that doth follow the colour of Apollo, 
 
 May be like him in zeal and knowledge. 
 
 If she be pale, and a Virgin stale, 
 
 Inclin'd to the sickness green : 
 Some raw fruit give her, to open her liver, 
 
 Her stomack, and the thing between. 
 
 If her Nose be long, and sharp as her Tongue, 
 
 Take heed of a desperate maid : 
 For she that will swagger with an incurable dagger 
 
 With stab and a kissing betray'd. 
 
 If her face and her neck have here and there a speck, 
 Ne'er stick, but straight you go stride her : 
 
 For it hath been try'd and never denied, 
 Such flesh ne'er fails the Rider. 
 
 c If 
 
34 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 If none of these thy fancy will please, 
 
 Go seek thy complexion store, 
 And take for thy saint a Lady that will paint, 
 
 Such beauties thou maist adore. 
 
 If beauty do write in her face red and white, 
 And Cupid his flowers there breed, 
 
 It Pleaseth the eye, but the rose will dye, 
 As soon as it runs to seed. 
 
 Fond Love. 
 
 COme my delicate bonny sweet Betty, 
 Let's dally a while in the shade, 
 Where the Sun by degrees shines through the trees, 
 And the wind blows through the Glade ; 
 Where Telons her Lover is graced, [Tellus ?] 
 
 And richly adorned with green, 
 And the amorous boy with her mother did toy, 
 And the Uncan never was seen ; 
 There we may enjoy modest pleasure, 
 As kissing and merry discourse, 
 And never controul a modest sweet soul, 
 For love is a thing of great force. 
 
 The green grass shall be thy Pillow 
 
 To comfort thy spherical head, 
 
 And my arms shall enjoin my love so divine, 
 
 And 
 
 
Complete. 3 5 
 
 And the earth shall be thy bed ; 
 
 Thy mantle of fairest flowers, 
 
 My coat shall thy coverlet be, 
 
 And the whistling wind shall sing to our mind, 
 
 O dainty sweet Lullaby. 
 
 Old Eolus shall be thy Rocker, 
 
 With his gentle murmuring noise, 
 
 And loves mirtle tree shall thy Canopy be \ 
 
 And the birds harmonious voice 
 
 Shall bring us into a sweet slumber, 
 
 While I in thy bosome do rest, 
 
 And give thee such bliss by that, and by 
 
 As by poetry can't be exprest. 
 
 While thy cherry cheek pleaseth in touching, 
 
 And in smelling her oderous breath ; 
 
 Her beauty in my sight, and her voice my delight, 
 
 Oh my sweets are cast beneath ; 
 
 Thus ravished with the contentment 
 
 In more than a lover exprest, 
 
 And think when I am here, I am in a sphear, 
 
 And more than immortally blest. 
 
 And thus with my mutual coying 
 
 My love doth me sweetly embrace ; 
 
 With my hands in her hair, and her fingers so rare. 
 
 And her playing with my face, 
 
 We reapt the most happy contentment 
 
 c 2 That 
 
36 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 That ever two Lovers did find ; 
 
 What women did see but my Love and me, 
 
 Would say, that we use to be kind. 
 
 Grinning Honour. 
 
 NAY prithee don't fly me, but sit thee down by me, 
 For I cannot endure the man that's demure, 
 A pox on your Worships and Sirs ; 
 Your conjeys and trips, 
 With your legs and your lips, 
 Your Madams and Lords, 
 With such finical words, 
 With a complement you bring, 
 WTiich concerneth no thing 
 You may keep for the Gown and the furs. 
 For at the beginning, &*c. 
 
 These titles of Honours were at first in the Donours, , 
 And not to the thing unto which they do cling, 
 If the soul be too narrow that wears them, 
 
 No delight can I see 
 
 In the thing called degree : 
 
 Honest Dick sounds as well 
 
 As the name with an L. 
 
 And that with titles doth swell, 
 
 And sounds like a spell 
 To affright mortal ears when they hear them ; 
 
 He 
 
Complete. 37 
 
 He that wears a brave soul and dares honestly do, 
 He's a Herald to himself and a God-father too. 
 
 Why then should we doat on one with a fools coat on, 
 Whose Coffers are cram'd, but yet he'll be dam'd 
 E'er he do a good Act, or a wise one ; 
 
 What reason hath he 
 
 To be ruler o'er me, 
 
 Who's a Lord in a chest : 
 
 But his head and his breast 
 
 Are as empty and bare, 
 
 And but puft up with aire, 
 And can neither assist nor advise one ; 
 
 Honour's but Air, and proud flesh but dust is, 
 It's we Commons make the Lords, as the Clarks 
 
 (make the Justice. 
 But since we must be of a different degree, 
 Cause most do aspire to be greater and higher 
 Than the rest of our fellows and brothers : 
 
 He that hath such a spirit, 
 
 Let him gain 't by his merit, 
 
 Spend his brain, wealth, and 's blood 
 
 For his Countries good, 
 
 And make himself fit 
 
 By his Valour and his wit 
 
 For things above the reach of all others : 
 
 Honour's a prize, and who wins it may wear it, 
 
 If not, it's a Bag, and a burthen to bear it. 
 
 C3 For 
 
38 Merry Dr oiler ie, 
 
 For my part let me be but quiet and free, 
 
 I'll drink sack and obey, and let great ones bear sway 
 
 Who spend their whole time but in thinking ; 
 
 I'll ne'er trouble my pate 
 
 With the secrets of State ; 
 
 The news books I'll burn all : 
 
 And with the diurnall 
 
 Light Tobacco, and admit, 
 
 That they are so far fit 
 As to serve good company in drinking : 
 
 All the name I desire, is an honest good fellow, . 
 Lets drink good Canary untill we grow mellow. 
 
 The Hunting. 
 
 A Fox, a fox, up Gallants to the field, 
 List to the merry cry that sweetnes yields • 
 
 Joves high-bred boy rides mounted on a Tun ; 
 
 Selenia makes his lasie Ass to run [Silenus] 
 
 In persuit of the chace, 
 
 With which may none compare, 
 
 Neither for four miles race, 
 
 Nor hunting of the hare. 
 
 Joyn Musick to the Cry, that hollow rocks 
 May eccho forth the hunting of the Fox. 
 
 The Fox hath lost the field and left the Town, 
 And up your barly hill showrs up and down, [scowrs] 
 
 With 
 
Complete. 39 
 
 With fear inforc'd, weak Reynold seems to daunt 
 The courage of the warlike Elephant ; 
 But hark, the Horns do blow, 
 And all the huntsmen shout ; 
 There goes the Game, I know, 
 But Tickler drives him out ; 
 Joyn Musick, &?c. 
 
 Ride, ride, St George, he's stole into the bush, 
 Old Swag-pot makes him straight from thence to rush ; 
 Then creeps into the vine, and there doth earth • 
 O heavenly cry, exceeding earthly mirth ! 
 Hark Youland, and Pottle, 
 Old Gusquin and Rainsbolt, 
 But hark how Pirn doth Tattle 
 Now he's got to the hole ; 
 Joyn Musick, &°c. 
 
 The Fox quite spent, about the Town he reels, 
 
 And now in view he's followed at the heels ; 
 
 Then climbs the tree, that climbing was his fall, 
 
 And to that fall came in the Huntsmen all : 
 
 Then Sug, and soot, swilback, 
 
 Cavil, and speckled Dyer, 
 
 Toss, swagger, and Spendall 
 
 Tug him through dirt and mire ; 
 
 Now Joyn our horn and voices all, that hollow rocks 
 May eccho forth the hunting of the Fox, 
 
 C4 A 
 
40 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 A Song. 
 
 AH, ah, come see what's here ! 
 Young Rufus drawing near, 
 With his thoughts, and his eyes, 
 And his elevated cries ; 
 Take heed how you come near, 
 For in a rapture his weak stature 
 Mounts above the Moon ; 
 And being there, doth stamp and stare, 
 And swear there is no room 
 To contain his old brain in the skies, 
 But he'll go down below, 
 And he'll know if it be so, 
 Whether all the wild boyes, [ ? Whither] 
 
 Having spent their mad daies, 
 Goes when such men dies. 
 
 But he finds no comfort there, 
 Back again to the man in the air \ 
 He catches at the Moon, 
 And pulls off the shepherds shoone, 
 And leaves his ten toes bare ; 
 Now the Youth grows mad, 
 The Moon-man, that was sad, 
 Starts up as wild as he, 
 With frowning angry look, 
 
 Stood 
 
Complete. 41 
 
 Stood kirdling with his hook, 
 
 And demands what he might be : 
 
 He did reply, I will fly round the Globe ; 
 
 Then make way Earth and Sea, 
 
 He'll not stay for to Play, 
 
 Consent with him importune, 
 
 He fears an evil Fortune, 
 
 All his delight's abroad. 
 
 A Droll. 
 
 LEt dogs and divels die ; 
 Let Wits and Money fly ; 
 Let the slaves of the earth 
 Be abortive in their birth [,] 
 
 Well or 111 come, what care I ; 
 For I will roar, I will drink, I will whore, 
 I spend nought but my own : 
 Let slaves of the world be suddenly hurl'd, 
 Or with a whirlwind blown, 
 In and out, round about, hey boyes, hey : 
 Let us sing, let us laugh • 
 Let us drink, let us quaff ; 
 See the world is sliding, 
 Here is no abiding, 
 Our life's but a Hollyday. 
 
 A 
 
42 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 The Jealous Husband. 
 
 A Young man that's in love with one that's wed, 
 Which of his sweet heart hath a Jealous head ; 
 Hath hatched a furious beast, 
 For Jealousie takes no rest. 
 
 It is a mad frenzy that broiles in the brain, 
 It fumes in the stomack, and filleth the vein : 
 The handmaids that upon it do wait, 
 Is fear, suspition, and hate. 
 
 The smoak of Tobacco it troubleth the brain, 
 It makes a man giddy, and quiet again : 
 If once he cry, stand away, puff, 
 He taketh all kindness in snuff. 
 
 He holds it a scorn the trueness of love, 
 But woe to the woman that's forced to prove, 
 At home, and in every place, 
 She lives in a pitiful case. 
 
 If he do but miss her out of his sight, 
 He rangeth about like a wandring spright : 
 And though she be within the house, 
 He hunts her as a Cat doth a Mouse. 
 
 If 
 
Complete. 43 
 
 If any be with her, O how his heart akes ! 
 He sickles, he tickles, he trembles, he quakes ; 
 But if she be all alone, 
 He sneaks away like a mome. 
 
 If she be abroad, and not to be found, 
 He hunts, and he scents, like a bloud-hound ; 
 If he her consort doth distaste, 
 O how the poor fool is aghast ! 
 
 At feasts, and at meetings, O how he will pry, 
 He'll wink and nod, and observe her eye ; 
 His mops and mows he will shape, 
 Like an old Paris-Garden Ape. 
 
 If any do kiss her, or kindly her use, 
 
 O how it doth vex him, and make him to muse ! 
 
 And plague him with such a smart, 
 
 As gripeth his very heart. 
 
 Perhaps he will flatter, and make excuse, 
 Dissembling his folly, which might her abuse ; 
 And seemingly shews himself kind, 
 When Jealousie sticks in his mind. 
 
 I'll tell you his vertues, to hold on my Rime, 
 No fool is kinder for a fit or a time \ 
 He flatters, he kisses, he swears, 
 It is out of love that he bears. 
 
 If 
 
44 Merry Drollery, 
 
 If this be true love, I would have no such \ 
 I'll rather wish no love than thus over much • 
 For thus a fond jealous Elfe 
 Disquiets his wife and himself. 
 
 I wonder what pleasure he findeth thereby, 
 To find his own torment that hidden may lye, 
 And frets like a canker in heart, 
 And breeds his continual smart. 
 
 He pouts, he lowrs, he looks like a Cur, 
 He'll chide, he'll brawl, he'll keep a foul stir, 
 And swear he will slit her face, 
 Before he'll endure disgrace. 
 
 He ruffles, he shuffles, he frets and fumes, 
 He Puffs, and snuffs, and sets up his plumes ; 
 And though the fool have no hurt 
 He'll call for a Constable blurt. 
 
 He fretteth, he swelleth, he spoyleth his diet; 
 He stormeth, he rageth, he is seldom quiet ; 
 He wastes away like dross, 
 When none but himself is his Cross. 
 
 He mumbles, and grumbles, poor silly man, 
 He whineth, he pineth, he looks pale and wan ; 
 And when he perceives he must die 
 He cries, out upon Jealousie, fie. 
 
 I'd 
 
Complete. 4 5 
 
 I'd rather be a Cuckold, than be so possest 
 With such a foul spirit that never gives rest. 
 That when the Coxcomb should sleep, 
 Like a boy, he will play at bopeep. 
 
 Besides the great scandal Jealousie bears, 
 All men will deride him even to his ears, 
 And boys in the street as he goes 
 Will point with ringer at nose. 
 
 He that's a Wittal doth live at more ease, 
 He knows the worst ; and doth himself please : 
 But he that's a Cuckold known, 
 May swear it's no fault of his own. 
 
 A wife that's abus'd, if she would not tell, 
 May work out a charm to fill his night spell, 
 Much better to please his mind 
 And serve a fool in his kind. 
 
 She is now his equal, his flesh and his mate, 
 And none but the devil would work their debate : 
 For being of two made one, 
 It is fit he should let her alone. 
 
 And yet to conclude, though this is a curse, 
 A woman that's Jealous is twenty times worse : 
 For she, like a cackling hen, 
 Will giggle it out to all men. 
 
 Womens 
 
46 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Womens delight. 
 
 THere dwelt a maid in the Curmy-gate, 
 And she was wondrous fair, 
 And she would have an old man 
 Was overgrown with hair ; 
 
 And ever she cry'd, O turn, 
 O turn thee unto me, 
 Thou hast the thing I have not, 
 A little above the knee. 
 
 He bought her a Gown of green, 
 
 Became her wondrous well : 
 And she bought him a long sword 
 
 To hang down by his heel ; 
 
 And ever she cry'd, &*c. 
 
 He bought her a Pair of sheers 
 
 To hang by her side : 
 And she bought him a winding-sheet 
 
 Against the day he dy'd ; 
 
 And ever she cry'd, &*c. 
 
 He bought her a Gown, a Gown, 
 
 Imbroider'd all with gold : 
 And she gave him a night-cap 
 To keep him from the cold, 
 
 And ever she cry'd, &>c. 
 
 He 
 
Complete. 47 
 
 He bought her a Gown, a Gown, 
 
 Imbroider'd all with red : 
 And she gave him a pair of horns 
 to wear upon his head ; 
 
 And ever she cry'd, [O] turn, 
 O turn thee unto me, 
 Thou hast the thing I have not 
 A little above the knee. 
 
 The Drunkard. 
 
 THe Spring is coming on, and our spirits begin 
 To return to their places merrily home, 
 And every man is bound to lay in a good 
 Brewing of bloud for the year to come. 
 
 They are Cowards that make it of clarified whay, 
 Or drink, with the swine, of the Juice of grains ; 
 Let me have the rasie Canary to play, 
 And the sparkling Rhenish to dance in my veins, 
 
 Let Dotards go preach, that our lives are but short, 
 And tell us much wine doth quick death invite : 
 But we'll be reveng'd before hand, and for 't 
 We'll croud a lives mirth in the space of a night. 
 
 Then stand we about with our glasses full crown'd, 
 Till every thing else to our postures do grow, 
 
 Till 
 
48 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Till our cups, and our heads, and the house go round, 
 And the Sellar become where the Chamber is now. 
 
 Come fill us some wine, we'll a sacrifice bring, 
 This night full of sack to the health of our K 
 
 Till we baffle the stars, and the Sun fetch about, 
 And tipple, and tipple, and tipple, a rout. 
 
 Whose first rising raies that is shown from his throne 
 Shall dash upon faces as red as his own, 
 And wonder that Mortals can fuddle away 
 As much wine in a night as he water i' th' day. 
 
 In Praise of Chocolate. 
 
 DOctors lay by your irkesome books : 
 And all the petty-fogging Rooks 
 Leave quacking, and enucleate 
 The vertues of our Chocolate. 
 
 Let th' universall medicine 
 
 (Made up of dead-mens bones and skin) 
 
 Be henceforth illegitimate, 
 
 And yield to soveraign Chocolate. 
 
 Let bawdy-baths be us'd no more, 
 Nor smoaky-stoves, but by the whore 
 
 
 Of 
 
Complete. 49 
 
 Of Babylon, since happy fate 
 Hath blessed us with Chocolate. 
 
 Let old Puncieus greaze his shooes 
 With his mock-Balsome, and abuse 
 No more the world : but meditate 
 The excellence of Chocolate. 
 
 Let Doctor Trig (who so excells) 
 No longer trudge to westward wells ; 
 For though that water expurgate, 
 It's but the dregs of Chocolate. 
 
 Let all the Paracelsian Crew, 
 
 Who can extract Christian from Jew, 
 
 Or out of Monarchy or state [,] 
 
 Break all their Stills for Chocolate. [;] 
 
 Tell us no more of weapon-salve, 
 But rather doom us to a grave, 
 For sure our wounds will ulcerate 
 Unless they're washt with Chocolate. 
 
 The thriving Saint, that will not come 
 Within a sack-shops bouzing Room, 
 (His spirits to exhilerate) 
 Drinks bowls (at home) of Chocolate. 
 
 d His 
 
50 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 His spouse, when she (brim-full of sence) 
 Doth want her due benevolence, 
 And babes of grace would propagate, 
 Is alwaies sipping Chocolate. 
 
 The roaring Crew of gallant ones, 
 Whose marrow rots within their bones, 
 Their bodies quickly regulate, 
 If once but sous'd in Chocolate. 
 
 Young heirs, that have more Land than wit, 
 When once they do but taste of it, 
 Will rather spend their whole Estate 
 Than weaned be from Chocolate. 
 
 The nut-brown Lasses of the Land, 
 Whom Nature vaiPd in face and hand, 
 Are quickly beauties of high rate, 
 By one small draught of Chocolate. 
 
 Besides, it saves the moneys lost 
 Each day in patches, which did cost 
 Them dear, untill of late 
 They found this heavenly Chocolate, 
 
 Nor need the women longer grieve, 
 Who spend their Oyl, yet not conceive : 
 But its a help immediate 
 If such but lick of Chocolate [.] 
 
 Consumptions 
 
Complete. 5 1 
 
 Consumptions too (be well assured) 
 Are no less soon than soundly cur'd 
 (Excepting such as do relate 
 Unto the purse) by Chocolate. 
 
 Nay more : Its Virtue is so much, 
 That if a Lady get a touch, 
 Her grief it will extenuate, 
 If she but smell of Chocolate. 
 
 The feeble man, whom nature ties 
 To do his Mistris's drudgeries : 
 O how it will his mind elate, 
 If she allow him Chocolate. 
 
 'Twill make old women young and fresh, 
 Create new motions of the flesh, 
 And cause them long for you know what, 
 If they but taste of Chocolate. 
 
 There's ne'er a Common-Council man, 
 Whose life will reach unto a span, 
 Should he not well affect the state, 
 And first and last drink Chocolate. 
 
 Nor ne'er a Citizen's chaste wife 
 That ever shall prolong her life, 
 (Whilst open stands her postern gate) 
 Unless she drink of Chocolate. 
 
 d 2 Xor 
 
52 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Nor dos't the Levite any harm, 
 It keepeth his devotion warm ; 
 And eke the hair upon his pate, 
 So long as he drinks Chocolate. 
 
 Both high and low, both rich and poor, 
 
 My Lord, my Lady, and his 
 
 With all the folks at Billingsgate^ 
 Bow, bow your hams to Chocolate. 
 
 A Catch, 
 
 THere was an old man had an acre of land, 
 He sold it for five pound a, 
 He went to the Tavern and drank it all out, 
 
 Excepting half a crown a : 
 And as he came home he met with a wench, 
 
 And ask'd her whether she was willing 
 To go to the Tavern and spend eighteen pence, 
 And for the other odd shilling. 
 
 The Cavalier's Complaint. 
 
 COme, yack, let's drink a Pot of Ale, 
 And I shall tell thee such a Tale 
 Will make thine ears to ring : 
 
 My 
 
Complete. 53 
 
 My Coyn is spent, my time is lost, 
 And I this only Fruit can boast, 
 That once I saw my King. 
 
 But this doth most afflict my mind, 
 I went to Court, in hope to find 
 Some of my friends in Place ; 
 And walking there, I had a sight 
 Of all the Crew : But, by this light, 
 I hardly knew one face ! 
 
 S'life [!] of so many Noble Sparkes, 
 Who on their bodies bear the Markes 
 
 Of their integrity, 
 And suffer'd Ruin of estate ; 
 It was my damn'd unhappy Fate, 
 
 That I not one could see ! 
 
 Not one, upon my life, among 
 My old acquaintance, all along 
 
 At Truro, and before ; 
 And, I suppose the Place can shew 
 As few of those, whom thou didst know 
 
 At York, or Marston-moore. 
 
 But, truly, There are swarms of Those, 
 Whose Chins are beardless, yet their Hose 
 And Buttocks still wear muffs > 
 
 d 3 Whilst 
 
54 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 Whilst the old rusty Cavaleer 
 Retires, or dares not once appear 
 For want of Coin, and Cuffs. 
 
 When none of these I could descry, 
 
 W T ho, better far deseiVd ; than I [,] 
 
 [I] Calmly did reflect ; 
 Old services, (by rule of state) 
 Like Almanacks, grow out of date, 
 
 What then can I expect ? 
 
 Troth, in contempt of Fortunes frown, 
 I'll get me fairly out of town, 
 
 And, in a Cloyster pray, 
 That, since the Stars are yet unkind 
 To Royallists, the King may find 
 
 More faithfull friends than they. 
 
 An Eccho to the Cavaleers complaint. 
 
 I Marvel Dick, That having been 
 So long abroad, and having seen 
 The world, as thou hast done, 
 Thou should'st acquaint Me with a tale 
 As old as Nestor, and as stale 
 As that of Priest and Nun ! 
 
 
 Are 
 
Complete. 5 5 
 
 Are We to learn what is a Court ? 
 A Pageant made for fortune's sport, 
 
 Where Merits scarce appear : 
 For bashfull Merit only dwells 
 In Camps, in Villages and Cells ; 
 
 Alas ! it dwells not there, 
 
 Desert is nice in its Address, 
 And Merit oftimes doth oppress 
 
 Beyond what Guilt would do : 
 But they are sure of there Demands, [their] 
 
 That come to Court with Golden-hands 
 
 And Brazen-faces too. 
 
 The King, they say, doth still profess 
 To give His Party some redress, 
 
 And cherish Honesty : 
 But his good wishes prove in vain, 
 Whose Service with His servants gain, 
 
 Not alwaies doth agree. 
 
 All Princes (be they never so wise) 
 Are fain to see with others Eyes, 
 
 But seldom hear at all : 
 And Courtiers find't their interest, 
 In Time to feather well their nest, 
 
 Providing for their Fall. 
 
 d 4 Our 
 
$6 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Our Comfort doth on Time depend ; 
 Things, When they are at worst, will mend : 
 
 And let us but reflect 
 On our Condition th' other day, 
 When none but Tyrants bore the sway, 
 
 What did we then expect ? 
 
 Mean while a calm retreat is best : 
 But discontent (if not supprest) 
 
 Will breed Disloyalty. 
 This is the constant note I sing, 
 I have been faithfull to the King, 
 
 And so shall ever be. 
 
 The Colchester Quaker, 
 
 A LI in the Land of Essex 
 Near Cholchester the zealous, 
 On the side of a bank, 
 Was play'd such a prank, 
 As would make a stone-horse Jealous. 
 
 Help Woodcock, Fox, and Nailor, 
 For brother Green's a stallion, 
 Now alas what hope, 
 Of converting the Pope, 
 When a quaker turns Italian ? 
 
 Unto 
 
Complete. 57 
 
 Unto our whole profession, 
 A scandall 'twill be counted, 
 
 When 'tis talk't with disdain, 
 
 Amongst the profane, 
 How Brother Green was mounted. 
 
 And in the good time of Christmas, 
 Which though the Saints have damn'd all, 
 
 Yet when did they hear 
 
 That a damn'd Cavalier 
 E'er play'd such a Christmas gamball, [?] 
 
 Had thy flesh, O Green, been pamper'd 
 With any Cates unhallow'd, 
 
 Hadst thou sweetned thy Gums 
 
 With Pottage of Plums, 
 Or Profane minc'd-Pie hadst swallow'd. 
 
 Roll'd up in wanton Swines flesh, 
 The fiend might have crept into thee, 
 
 Then fulness of gut 
 
 Might have made thee rut, 
 And the Divel so have rid through thee. 
 
 But alas, he had been feasted 
 
 With a spiritual Collation, 
 
 By our frugal Mayer 
 
 Who can dine with a prayer, 
 
 And sup with an Exhortation. 
 
 'Twas 
 
58 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Twas meer impulse of spirit, 
 Though he us'd the weapon carnall, 
 Filly-Foal, quoth he, 
 My bride thou shalt be : 
 Now how this is lawfull, learn all. 
 
 For if no respect of persons 
 Be due 'mongst the sons of Adam, 
 In a large extent 
 Then may it be meant 
 That a Maris as good as a Madam. 
 
 Then without more Ceremony, 
 Nor Bonnet vail'd, nor kist her, 
 He took her by force 
 For better for worse, 
 And he us'd her like a Sister. 
 
 Now when in such a Saddle 
 A Saint will needs be riding, 
 
 Though I dare not say, 
 'Tis a falling away, 
 May there not be some back-sliding ? 
 
 No surely, quoth James Naylor, 
 
 Twas but an insurrection 
 
 Of the Carnal part, 
 For a Quaker in heart 
 
 Can never lose perfection. 
 
Complete. 59 
 
 For so our ^Masters teach us, *Hist. of Jesuitism. 
 The intent being well directed ; 
 
 Though the divel trapan 
 
 The Adamical man, 
 The Saint stands uninfected. 
 
 But yet a Pagan Jury 
 
 Still Judges what's intended, 
 
 Then say what we can, 
 Brother Green 's outward man, 
 
 I fear, will be suspended. 
 
 And our adopted Sister 
 Will find no better quarter, 
 
 But when him we inroule 
 
 For a Saint ; Filly Foal 
 Shall pass at least for a Martyr. 
 
 Now Rome that Spiritual Sodom 
 No longer is thy debter, 
 
 O Colchester now 
 
 Who's Sodom, but thou 
 Even according to the Letter ? 
 
 Help Woodcock, Fox and Nay lor; 
 For Brother Greeris & Stallion. 
 
 Now alas what hope 
 
 Of converting the Pope, 
 When a Quaker turns Italian. 
 
 The 
 
6o Merry Drollerie, 
 
 TJie Character of a Mistris. 
 
 MY Mistris is a shittle-cock, 
 Compos'd of Cork and feather, 
 Each Battledore sets on her dock, 
 
 And bumps her on the leather : 
 But cast her off which way you Will, 
 She will requoile to another still, Fa, la, la, la, la, la. 
 
 My Mistris is a Tennis-ball, 
 
 Compos'd of Cotten fine ; 
 She is often struck against the wall, 
 
 And banded under-line, 
 But if you will her mind fulfill, 
 You must pop her in the hazard still, Fa, la, la. 
 
 My Mistris is a Nightingale 
 
 So sweetly she can sing, 
 She is as fair as Philomel, 
 
 The daughter of a King ; 
 And in the darksome nights so thick 
 She loves to lean against a prick, Fa, la, la. 
 
 My Mistris is a Ship of war, 
 
 With shot discharged at her 
 The Poope hath inferred many a scar 
 
 Even both by wind and water ; 
 
 But 
 
Complete, 61 
 
 But as she grapples, at the last 
 
 She drowns the man, pulls downs her mast, Fa, la, la. 
 
 My Mistris is a Virginal, 
 
 And little cost will string her : 
 She's often reafd against the wall 
 
 For every man to finger, 
 But to say truth, if you will her please 
 You must run division on her keys, Fa, la, la. 
 
 My Mistris is a Conny fine, 
 
 She's of the softest skin, 
 And if you please to open her, 
 
 The best part lies within, 
 And in her Conny-burrow may 
 Two Tumblers and a Ferrit play, Fa, la, la. 
 
 My Mistris is the Moon so bright : 
 
 I wish that I could win her ; 
 She never walks but in the night, 
 
 And bears a man within her, 
 ^ Which on his back bears pricks and thorns, 
 And once a month she brings him horns, Fa, la, la. 
 
 ^My Mistris is a Tinder-box, 
 
 Would I had such a one ; 
 'Her Steel endureth many a knock 
 
 Both by the flint and stone. 
 
 And 
 
62 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 And if you stir the Tinder much, 
 
 The match will fire at every touch, Fa, la, la. 
 
 My Mistris is a Puritan, 
 
 She will not swear an oath, 
 But for to lye with any man, 
 
 She is not very loath ; 
 But pure to pure, and there's no sin, 
 There's nothing lost that enters in, Fa, la, la. 
 
 But why should I my Mistris call, 
 
 A shittle-cock or bawble, 
 A ship of war or Tennis-ball, 
 
 Which things be variable ? 
 But to commend, I'll say no more, 
 My Mistris is an arrant , Fa, la, la, la, la, la. 
 
 Oliver routing the Rump. 
 
 (before, 
 
 Will you hear a strange thing, ne'er heard of 
 A Ballad of news without any lyes : 
 The Parliament men are turn'd out of door, 
 And so is the Council of State likewise. 
 
 Brave Oliver came into th' House like a spright, 
 His fiery looks made the Speaker dumbe : 
 You must be gone home, quoth he, by this light, 
 Do you mean to sit here untill dooms-day come ? 
 
 With 
 
Complete. 63 
 
 With that the Speaker lookt pale for fear, 
 As if he had been with the night mare rid, 
 Which made most men believe, that were there, 
 That he did even as the Alderman did. 
 
 1 For Oliver thought he were Doctor at law, [though 7 t] 
 It seems he plaid the Physitian there : 
 Whose Physick so wrought in the Speakers maw, 
 That it gave him a stool instead of a Chair. 
 
 Sir Arthur thought Oliver wondrous bold, 
 Hoping there to make some stir : 
 But in the mean time, take this from me, 
 Sir Arthur must yield to brave Oliver. 
 
 Harry Martin wondred to see such a thing 
 Done by a Saint of so high degree : 
 An Act he did not expect from a King, 
 Much less from such a dry-bone as he. 
 
 ■But Oliver, laying hands on his sword, 
 i Upbraids him with adultery : 
 Then Martin gave him never a word, 
 IBut humbly thank'd his Majesty. 
 
 !Much wit he had shewed if that he had dar'd, 
 tBut silent he was for fear of some knocks : 
 Quoth he, if I get you within my ward, 
 II may chance to send you out with a Pox. 
 
 Allen 
 
64 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Allen the Copper-smith was in great fear, 
 
 He had done as much hurt since the war began : 
 
 A broken Citizen many a year, 
 
 And now he's a broken Parliament-man : 
 
 But Oliver told him what he had been, 
 And him a cheating Knave did call, 
 Which put him into a fit of the spleen, 
 For now he must give an account of all. 
 
 It went to the heart of Sir Henry Vane, 
 To think what a terrible fall he should have : 
 For he who did once in the Parliament raign 
 Was call'd as I hear, a dissembling Knave. 
 
 Who gave him that name you may easily know, 
 Twas one that studied the art full well, 
 You may swear it was true, if he call'd him so, 
 And how to dissemble I'm sure he can tell. 
 
 Bradshaw, the President, proud as the Pope, 
 Who lov'd upon Kings and Princes to trample, 
 Now the House is dissolved, who cannot but hope 
 To see such a President made an example. 
 
 If I were one of the Council of state, 
 I'll tell you what my vote should be : 
 Upon his new Turret at Westminster, 
 There to be hanged he should be. 
 
 Then 
 
Complete. 65 
 
 Then room for the Speaker without his mace, 
 And room for the rest of the rabble-rout : 
 My Masters, is not this a pittifull case 
 Like the snuff of a candle thus to go out ? 
 
 I cannot but wonder you should agree, 
 You that have been such brethren in evill : 
 A dissolution there needs must be, 
 When the Divel is divided against a DeviL 
 
 Some like this change, and some like it not ; 
 Some say it was not done in due season ■ 
 Some say it was the Jesuites plot, 
 It so much resembles the Gunpowder treason. 
 
 Some think that Cromwel and Cha?'les are agreed. 
 And sure it were good policy if it were so, 
 Lest the Hollander, French, the Dane and the Swede 
 Should bring him in whether he will or no. 
 
 And now I would gladly conclude my song 
 With a prayer as Ballads use to do, 
 But yet I'll forbear, for I hope er't be long 
 We shall have the King and a Parliament too. 
 
66 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 A Song of 'Nothing. 
 
 I'Le Sing you a Sonnet that ne'er was in Print, 
 Tis truly and newly come out of the Mint, 
 I'le tell you before-hand, you'l find Nothing in't, 
 On Nothing I think, and on Nothing I write ; 
 Tis Nothing I court, yet Nothing I slight, 
 Nor care I a Pin, if I get Nothing by't. (men, 
 
 Fire, Air, Earth, and water, Beasts, Birds, Fish and silly 
 Did start out of Nothing, a Chaos, a Den ; 
 And all things shall turn into Nothing agen. 
 'Tis Nothing sometimes makes many things hit [,] 
 As when fools among wise men do silently sit [;] 
 A fool that says Nothing, may pass for a wit. 
 What one man loves is another mans loathing, 
 This blade loves a quick thing, that loves a slow 
 And both do in the conclusion love Nothing, (thing; 
 Your Lad that makes love to a delicate smooth thing 
 And thinking with sighs to gain her & soothing, 
 Frequently makes much ado about Nothing, 
 At last when his pat'ence and purse is decay'd 
 He may to the bed of a Whore be betray'd \ 
 But she that hath Nothing, must need be a maid. 
 Your slashing, and clashing, and flashing of wit 
 Doth start out of Nothing, but fancy and fit ; 
 'Tis little or Nothing to what hath been writ, [.] 
 When first by the ears we together did fall, 
 
 Then 
 
Complete. 67 
 
 Then something got Nothing, and Nothing got all \ 
 
 From Nothing it came, and to Nothing it shall. 
 
 That party that seal'd to a cov'nant in haste, 
 
 Who made our 3 Kingdoms, and Churches lie waste ; 
 
 Their project, and all came to Nothing at last. 
 
 They raised an Army of horse, and Foot, 
 
 To tumble down Monarchy, Branches and Root ; 
 
 They thunder'd and plunder'd, but Nothing would 
 
 The Organ, the Altar, and Ministers cloathing (do't 
 
 In Presbyter Jack begot such a loathing, 
 
 That he must needs raise a petty New-Nothing. 
 
 And when he had rob'd us in sanctifi'd cloathing, 
 
 Perjur'd the people by faithing and trothing ; 
 
 At last he was catch't and all came to Nothing. 
 
 In several Factions we quarrel and brawl, 
 
 Dispute, and contend, and to fighting we fall ; 
 
 Pie lay all to Nothing, that Nothing wins all. 
 
 When war, and rebellion, and plundering grows, 
 
 The Mendicant man is the freest from foes, 
 
 For he is most happy hath Nothing to lose. 
 
 Brave Ccesar and Pompey, and Great AVxander, 
 
 Whom Armies followed as Goose follows Gander, 
 
 Nothing can sayt' tis an action of slander. 
 
 The wisest great Prince, were he never so stout (rout, 
 
 Though [he] conquer the world, and give mankind a 
 
 Did bring Nothing in, nor shall bear Nothing out. 
 
 Old Noll that arose from High-thing to Low-thing, 
 
 By brewing rebellion, Nicking, and Frothing, 
 
 In sev'n years distance was all things, and Nothing. 
 
 e 2 Dick 
 
68 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Dick (Oliver's Heir) that pitiful slow-thing, 
 
 Who was once invested with purple-cloathing, 
 
 Stands for a Cypher, and that stands for Nothing. 
 
 If King-killers bold are excluded from bliss, 
 
 Old Bradshaw (that feels the reward on't by this) 
 
 Had better been Nothing, than what now he is. 
 
 Blind Collonel Hewson, that lately did crawl 
 
 To lofty degree, from a low Coblers stall, 
 
 Did bring Aul to Nothing, when Aul came to all. 
 
 Your Gallants that Rant it in dell'cate clothing, 
 
 Though lately he was but a pit'ful low-thing, 
 
 Pays Landlord, Draper, and Taylor, with Nothing. 
 
 The nimble-tongu'd Lawyer that pleads for his pay, 
 
 When death doth arrest him and bear him away, 
 
 At the Gen'ral Bar will have Nothing to say. 
 
 Whores that in Silk were by Gallants embrac't ; 
 
 By a rabble of Prentices lately were chac't [:] (last. 
 
 Thus Courting, and sporting, comes to Nothing at 
 
 If any man tax me with weakness of wit 
 
 And say that on Nothing, I nothing have writ, 
 
 I shall answer ex nihilo nihil fit. 
 
 Yet let his discreet one be never so tall, 
 
 This very word Nothing shall give it a fall, 
 
 For writing of Nothing I comprehend all. 
 
 Let every man give the Poet his due, 
 
 'Cause then it was with him as now it's with you, 
 
 He studi'd it when he had Nothing to doe. 
 
 This very word Nothing if it took the right way 
 
 May 
 
Complete. 69 
 
 May prove advantagious [;] for what would you say, 
 If the Vintner should cry there is Nothing to pay. 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 BAcchus, I am come from the sun-shine fell 
 To you, mad wags, the force of wine to tell, 
 And from those Sack-butts, Prest from grapes of 
 There's none shall taste but I will taste again. (Spain 
 Sack, Sack is the thing that makes the brain rumble, 
 It fools the wise, and makes the Gallant stumble. 
 Sack hath the power the sense of man depriving, 
 
 O take heed then ; 
 Sack keeps the wealthy man from thriving, 
 
 Fools then be wise. 
 He that in drink doth keep no mean 
 
 It makes him lean ; 
 And he that reels, 
 See what he feels : 
 
 Now in foul dirt he prostrate falls, 
 And picks mad quarrels with the walls ; 
 Nor shall his drouzie sense, that lies asleep, 
 Be well recovefd in a night of sleep. 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 BE not thou so foolish nice 
 As to be invited twice ; 
 Why should we men more incite 
 Than their own sweet appetite ? 
 
 e 3 Shall 
 
jo Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Shall savage things more freedom have 
 Than nature unto women gave ? 
 The Swan, the Turtle, and the Sparrow, 
 Bill a while, and then take marrow ; 
 They bill, they kiss, what else they do, 
 Come bill and kiss, and I'll shew you. 
 
 Pirn's Anarchy. 
 
 ASke me no more, why there appears 
 Dayly such troops of Dragooneers, 
 Since it was requisite, you know, 
 They rob cum privilegio. 
 
 Aske me no more, why the Gule confines 
 Our Hierarchy of best Divines, 
 Since some in Parliament agree 
 'Tis for the subjects liberty. 
 
 Aske me no more, why from Blackmail 
 Great tumults come into Whitehall, 
 Since it was allowed, by free consent, 
 The Priviledges of Parliament. 
 
 Aske me not, why to London comes 
 So many Musquets, Pikes and Drums, 
 So that we fear They'll never cease, 
 'Tis to Protect the Kingdoms peace. 
 
 Aske 
 
Complete. 7 1 
 
 Aske me no more, why little Finch 
 From Parliament began to winch, 
 Since such as dare to hawk at Kings 
 Can easie clip a Finches wings. 
 
 Aske me no more, why Strafford 9 s dead, 
 And why they aim'd so at his head, 
 Faith, all the reason I can give, 
 Tis thought he was too wise to live. 
 
 Aske me no more, where' s all the plate, 
 Brought in at such an easie rate, 
 They it back to the Owners soon will bring 
 In case it fall not to the King. 
 
 Aske me not, why the house delights 
 Not in our two wise Kentish Knights : 
 Their Counsel never was thought good, 
 Because it was not understood. 
 
 Aske me no more, why Lasey goes 
 To seize all rich men as his foes, 
 Whilst Country Farmers sigh and sob, 
 Yeomen may beg when Kings do rob. 
 
 Aske me no more, by what strange sight 
 Londons Lord Maior was made a Knight, 
 Since there's a strength, not very far, 
 Hath as much power to make, as mar. 
 
 e 4 Aske 
 
J2 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Aske me no more, why in this age 
 I sing so sharp without a cage : 
 My answer is, I need not fear, 
 Since England doth the burden bear. 
 
 Aske me no more, for I grow dull, 
 Why Hotham kept the town of Hull : 
 This answer I in brief do sing, 
 All things were thus when Pirn was K- 
 
 A Sessions of wit. 
 
 A Session was held the other day, 
 And Apollo was at it (they say :) 
 The Laurel, hath been so long preserved, 
 Was now to be given to him best deserv'd. 
 
 Therefore the Wits of the Town came thither, 
 J Twas strange to see how they flock together ; 
 Each, strongly confident of his own way, 
 That day thought to carry the Laurel away. 
 
 There was Selden, and he sate close to the Chair \ 
 Wainman not far off, which was very fair ; 
 Sands with Townsend, for they kept no order ; 
 Digby and Shillingworth a little further. 
 
 There 
 
Complete. 73 
 
 There was Lucans Translator too, and he 
 That made God speak so big in's Poetry \ 
 Selwin, and Waller, and Bartlets both the Brothers, 
 Jack Vaughan, and Porter, and divers others. 
 
 The first that broke silence was good old Ben, 
 Prepar'd before with Canary wine, 
 And he told them plainly, he deserv'd the Bayes, 
 For his were calFd Works when others were call'd 
 
 (Plaies. 
 
 Bid them remember how he had purged the Stage 
 Of errours that had lasted many an Age ; 
 And he hoped they did not think the Silent woman, 
 The Fox, and the Alchymist out-done by no man. 
 
 Apollo stopt him there, and bid him not go on, 
 'Twas merit, he said, and not presumption, 
 Must carry't ; at which Ben turn'd about, 
 And in great choler offered to go out. 
 
 But those that were there thought it not fit 
 To discontent so ancient a wit, 
 And therefore Apollo call'd him back again, 
 And made him mine Host of his own newe Inne. 
 
 Tom Carew was next, but he had a fault 
 That would not well stand with a Laureat; 
 His Muse was hide-bound, and the Issue of 's brain 
 Was seldom brought forth but with trouble and pain. 
 
 And 
 
74 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 And all that were present there did agree 
 A Laureat Muse should be easie and free ; (Grace 
 Yet sure 'twas not that, but 'twas thought that his 
 Consider 'd he was well he had a cup-bearers place. 
 
 Will Davenant ashamed of a foolish mischance, 
 That he had got lately traveling into France, 
 Modestly hoped the handsomness of 's Muse 
 Might any deformity about him excuse. 
 
 And surely the company would have been content 
 If they could have found any precedent, 
 But in all there Records, either in Verse or Prose, 
 There was not one Laureat without a Nose. 
 
 To Will Bartlet sure all the Wits meant well, 
 But first they would see how his Snow would sell : 
 Will smil'd, and swore in their Judgments they went 
 That concluded of merit upon success. (less, 
 
 Suddenly taking his place agen, 
 He gave way to Selwin, who straight stept in ; 
 But, alas, he had been so lately a wit 
 That Apollo himself scarce knew him yet. 
 
 Toby Mathews, (pox on him) what made he there ? 
 Was whispering nothing in some bodies eare ; 
 W T hen he had the honour to be nam'd in Court, 
 But, Sir, you may thank my Lady Carlisle for't. 
 
 For 
 
Complete. 75 
 
 For had not her Character furnish'd you out 
 With something of handsome, without all doubt, 
 You and the sorry Lady-Muse had been 
 In the number of those that were not let in. 
 
 In from the Court two or three come in, 
 And they brought Letters (forsooth) from the Queen : 
 'Twas discreetly done ; for if th' had come 
 Without them, th'had scarce been let into the room. 
 
 This made a dispute, for 'twas plain to be seen 
 Each man had a mind to gratifie the Queen : 
 But Apollo himself could not think it fit : (wit. 
 
 There was difference, he said, betwixt fooling and 
 
 Suckling was next calPd but durst not appear, 
 But straight one whisper'd Apollo in the ear, 
 That of all men living he car'd not for't, 
 He lov'd not the Muses so well as his sport. 
 
 And priz'd black eyes, or a lucky hit 
 At bowls, above all the Trophies of wit ; 
 But Apollo was angry, and publickly said, 
 'Twere fit that a fine were set upon's head. 
 
 Wat Montague now stood forth to his trial, 
 And did not so much as suspect a denial : 
 But wise Apollo asked him first of all, 
 If he understood his own Pastoral 
 
 For 
 
j6 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 For if he could do't, 'twould plainly appeare 
 He understood more than any man there, 
 And did merit the Bayes above all the rest, 
 But the Monsieur was modest, and silence confest. 
 
 During these troubles, in the croud was hid 
 One that Apollo soon miss'd, little Cid : 
 And having spide him, calPd him out of the throng, 
 And advis'd him in his ear not to write so strong. 
 Then Murre was summon'd, but it was urg*d, that he 
 Was chief already of another company. 
 
 Hales sate by himself, most gravely did smile, 
 To see them about nothing keep such a coile ; 
 Apollo had spide him, but knowing his mind, 
 Past by, and calPd Faulkland, that sate just behind. 
 
 But he was of late so grown with divinity, 
 That he had almost forgot his Poetry, 
 Though, to say the truth (and Apollo did know it) 
 He might have been both his Priest and his Poet. 
 
 At length, who but an Alderman did appear, 
 At which Will Davenant began to swear ; 
 But wiser Apollo bade him draw nigher : 
 And when he had mounted a little higher, 
 
 He openly declared, that it was a good sign 
 Of good store of Wit, to have good store of Coyn : 
 
 And 
 
Complete, JJ 
 
 And without a Syllable more or less said, 
 He put the Laurel on the Aldermans head. 
 
 At this the Wits were in such a maze, 
 That for a good while they did nothing but gaze 
 One upon another \ not one in the Place 
 But had a discontent writ at large in his face. 
 
 Only the small ones cheared up again, 
 Out of hope, as 'twas thought, of borrowing ; 
 But sure they were out, for he forfeits his crown 
 When he lends to any Poet about the Town. 
 
 The way to wooe a zealous Lady. 
 
 I Came unto a Puritan to wooe, 
 And roughly did salute her with a kiss ; 
 She shov'd me from her when I came unto ; 
 Brother, by yea and nay I like not this : 
 And as I her with amorous talk saluted, 
 My Articles with scripture she confutedr 
 
 She told me that I was too much prophane, 
 And not devout neither in speech nor gesture : 
 And I could not one word answer again, 
 Nor had not so much grace to call her Sister ; 
 For ever something did offend her there, 
 Either my broad beard, hat, or my long hair. 
 
 My 
 
7$ Merry Dr oiler ie y 
 
 My Band was broad, my 'Parrel was not plain, 
 My Points and Girdle made the greatest show ; 
 My Sword was odious, and my Belt was vain, 
 My Spanish shoee w r as cut too broad at toe \ 
 My Stockings light, my Garters ty'd too long, 
 My Gloves perfum'd, and had a scent too strong. 
 
 I left my pure Mistris for a space, 
 
 And to a snip snap Barber straight went I ; 
 
 I cut my hair, and did my corps uncase 
 
 Of 'Parrels pride that did offend the eye \ 
 
 My high crown' d Hat, my little beard also, 
 
 My pecked Band, my Shooes were sharp at toe, 
 
 Gone was my Sword, my Belt was laid aside, 
 And I transform'd both in looks and speech ; 
 My 'Parrel plain, my Cloak was void of pride, 
 My little Skirts, my metamorphos'd breech, 
 My Stockings black, my Garters were ty'd shorter, 
 My Gloves no scent ; thus march'd I to her Porter. 
 
 The Porter spi'd me, and did lead me in, 
 Where his sweet Mistris reading was a chapter: 
 Peace to this house, and all that are therein, 
 Which holy words with admiration wrapt her ; 
 And ever, as I came her something nigh, 
 She, being divine, turn'd up the white of th' eye. 
 
 Quoth 
 
Complete, 79 
 
 Quoth I, dear sister, and that lik'd her well ; 
 
 I kist her, and did Pass to some delight, 
 
 She, blushing, said, that long-taiPd men would tell ; 
 
 Quoth I[,] I'll be as silent as the night ; 
 
 And lest the wicked now should have a sight 
 
 Of what we do, faith, I'll put out the light. 
 
 O do not swear, quoth she, but put it out, 
 Because that I would have you save your oath, 
 In truth, you shall but kiss me without doubt ; 
 In troth, quoth I, here will we rest us both ; 
 Swear you[,] quoth she, in troth ? Had you not sworn 
 I'd not have don't[,] but took it in foul scorn. 
 
 The Apostate World. 
 
 GOod Lord what a pass is this world brought to, 
 Most men have forgot to be honest and Just \ 
 When shall one find a friend to be honest and true 
 That with his chief secret he only may trust \ 
 I If thou hadst abundance of money to spend, 
 Then every man will be accounted thy friend ; (cay 
 Find one that will love you where wealth doth de- 
 
 You'd as soon find a needle in a bottle of hay. 
 
 True friendship is now adaies cunning and warning, 
 And every one learns to shift for himselfe ; 
 What man will not falsifie friendship for gaining, 
 
 And 
 
8o Merry Drollerie, 
 
 And wrong his best friend for lucre of pelf? 
 There was once a time when a friend for a friend 
 Would ever be constant his life for to spend ; 
 But he that will find such a friend at this day, 
 Had as good seek, &*c. 
 
 There's many will hang on you while you have coyn 
 And swear they will venture their lives for your 
 But to any task, if you them enjoyn, (sake : 
 
 They'll swear and protest they'll it undertake, 
 But if by mishap you be brought to a Pinch, (inch, 
 Though they promise an ell, 'twill scarce prove an 
 But find out a friend that will do and not say, 
 You'd as soon find, &>c. 
 
 For in this age one dare not trust one another, 
 For love is not known, but extremity shews, 
 For one Brother dares hardly trust another 
 With any thing but what he cares not who knows ; 
 If thou hast not money nor means of thine own, 
 In thine extremity true friendship is known ; 
 If thou livest in debt, find one that will good say, 
 You'd as soon find, &*c. 
 
 There's many a Lawyer will promise his Client 
 To finish his business in the next Term ; 
 To finger your money he'll shew himself plient, 
 And vows that nothing but truth he'll explain ; 
 And thus he will feed you with hopes to do well, 
 
 When 
 
Complete. 8 1 
 
 When he means as false as the divel of hell ; 
 Find one that will finish your Suit in a day, 
 You'd as soon find, &>c. 
 
 And thus you may see what an intricate matter 
 It is to find truth in a World of deceit \ 
 It is counted but complement to face and to flatter [,] 
 And politick wisdom to cozen and cheat ; 
 Plain dealing is a Jewel, but he that doth use it, 
 They say, dies a beggar, therefore men refuse it ; 
 Find one that will deal upright, nay, good Sir stay, 
 And first find a needle in a bottle of hay. 
 
 Lust described. 
 
 WAlking abroad in a morning, 
 Where Venus her self was adorning ; 
 I heard a bird sing to welcome the Spring, 
 Their musick so sweetly according. 
 
 I listened unto them, 
 
 Me thoughts a voice did summon ; 
 
 I spide an old whore, and a lusty young rogue 
 
 Together as they sate a wooing. 
 
 She tickled him under the sides 
 
 To make their courage coming ; 
 
 She hoysted her thighs, and she twinkled her eyes ; 
 
 'Twas a dainty fine curious old woman. 
 
 f If 
 
82 Merry D r oiler ie. 
 
 If Venus and Mars so stout 
 
 Had joyned together in battle, 
 
 There could not have been more claps & more bangs, 
 
 For he made her old buttocks to rattle. 
 
 She gave him a lift for his thrust, 
 And catcht him as he was a coming ; 
 And ever she cry'd, you lusty young rogue 
 Will you murder a poor old woman. 
 
 She found that his spirits were spent, 
 And that he was no more a coming, 
 She gave him five shillings to make a recruit, 
 And was not this a fine lusty old woman ? 
 
 Eighty Eight, 
 
 IN Eighty Eight, e'er I was born, 
 As I can well remember, 
 In August was a Fleet of Spain, 
 A month before September. 
 
 Lisbona, civill Portingal, 
 
 Tolledo, and Germado, [Grenado] 
 
 They all did meet, and made a Fleet, 
 
 And call'd it the Arniado. 
 
 They 
 
Complete. 83 
 
 They came with great provision, 
 
 As Muttons, Beef and Bacon ; 
 
 Some said, some Ships were full of Whips, 
 
 But I think they were mistaken. 
 
 There was a little man in Spain, 
 He shot well in a Gun a, 
 Don Pedro hight, as black a Wight 
 As the Knight of the Sun a. 
 
 They had ten men to one of ours, 
 And yet to do more harm a, 
 They said they would not come alone, 
 But with the Prince of Parma. 
 
 King Philip made him General, 
 And bid him not to stay a, 
 But to destroy both man and boy, 
 And so to come away a. 
 
 When they had sail'd along the seas, 
 And anchor'd before Dover, 
 Our English men did boord them then, 
 And cast the Rascals over. 
 
 At Tilbury there lay the Queen, 
 What would you more desire ? 
 For whose sweet sake Sir Francis Drake 
 Did set them all on fire. 
 
 f 2 They 
 
84 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 They ran away about England, 
 About Scotland also a, 
 Till they came to the Irish coasts, 
 Where they had many a blow a. 
 
 The Irish man did ding them then 
 And one man slew threescore a, 
 And had they not then run away, 
 They surely had slain more a. 
 
 Then let them never brag nor boast, 
 
 For if they come again a 
 
 They had best take heed, lest that they speed 
 
 As they did they know when a. 
 
 Loves Follies. 
 
 NAy out upon this fooling for shame 
 Nay Pish, nay fie, in faith you are to blame ; 
 Nay come, this fooling must not be ; 
 Nay pish, nay fie, you tickle me. 
 
 Nay out upon't in faith I dare not do't ; 
 I'll bite, I'll scratch, I'll squeak, I'll cry out ; 
 Nay come, this fooling must not be ; 
 Nay pish, nay fie, you tickle me. 
 
 Your 
 
Complete. 85 
 
 Your Buttons scratch me, you ruffle my band, 
 You hurt my thighs, Pray take away your hand ; 
 The door stands ope that all may see, 
 Nay pish, nay fie, you tickle me. 
 
 When you and I shall meet in a place 
 Both together face to face, 
 I'll not cry out, nay you shall see, 
 Nay pish, nay fie, you tickle me. 
 
 But now I see my words are but vain, 
 For I have done, why should I complain ? 
 Nay to't again, the way is free, 
 
 Since it's no more, pray tickle me. 
 
 A Song. 
 
 IF every woman were serv'd in her kind, 
 And every man had his due desert, 
 The rooms in Bridewel would be well lin'd, 
 And a Coach could not pass the streets for a Cart ; 
 Yet I am a little vexed at the heart, 
 And fain I would have my grief to be known, 
 The Punck would have me to play a kind part, 
 And to father a child that is none of mine own : 
 
 Full seventeen months I crost the seas, 
 Mean time I was crost as much on the land, 
 
 f 3 For 
 
86 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 For all this while she sate at her ease, 
 And had her companions at her command ; 
 There was never a Gallant but gave her his hand, 
 And said, it was pitty she should lie alone, 
 And now they would have me subscribe to a bond, 
 And to father a child, &*c. 
 
 Let every Father take care For his Child, 
 And seek to provide for the Mother and that ; 
 Although I am a Buck, I am not so wild 
 To naile up my horns for another mans hat ; 
 111 never grieve, but let it pass, 
 Since 'tis my fortune to be overthrown, 
 Although I am an Oxe, I'll ne'er be an Ass 
 To father a child, &*c. 
 
 A man may be made a Cuckold by chance, 
 And put out another mans child to nurse, 
 And hoodwinke his Barn with ignorance, [? Horns] 
 But he that's a Wittall is ten times worse ; 
 And he that knows his cross and his curse, 
 And still will be led by a Strumpet's moan, 
 May sit and sell horns at Brittains Burse ; 
 And father a child, &*c. 
 
 And if you will be my Judge, 
 
 Is not that man wondrous base, 
 
 To be another mans slave and his drudge, 
 
 And sell all his credit for disgrace ; 
 
 Nor 
 
Complete. 87 
 
 Nor was I ever sprung from that race, 
 To call that my seed another hath sown ; 
 Nor I'll never look King Charles in the face, 
 
 If I father a child that's none of my own. 
 
 The Fire on London Bridge, &c. 
 
 SOme Christian people all give ear, 
 Unto the grief of us, 
 Caus'd by the death of three children dear, 
 The which it hapned thus. 
 
 And eke there befell an accident, 
 
 By fault of a Carpenters Son, 
 Who to Saw chips his sharp Axe lent, 
 
 Woe worth the time may Lon. 
 
 May London say, woe worth the Carpenter, 
 
 And all such 6lock-hea.d fools, 
 Would he were hang'd up like a Serpent here, 
 
 For jesting with edg-tools. 
 
 For into the chips there fell a spark, 
 
 Which put out in such flames, 
 That it was known into Southwark, 
 
 Which lives beyond the Thames. 
 
 F4 For 
 
88 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 For Loe the Bridge was wondrous high 
 
 With water underneath, 
 O'er which as many fishes fly, 
 
 As birds therein do breath. 
 
 And yet the fire consum'd the Bridg, 
 Not far from place of landing, 
 
 And though the building was full big, 
 It fell down not with standing. 
 
 And eke into the water fell, 
 
 So many Pewter dishes, 
 That a man might have taken up very well, 
 
 Both boyld and roasted Fishes. 
 
 And thus the Bridge of London Town, 
 For building that was sumptuous, 
 
 Was All by fire Half burnt down, 
 For being too contumptuous. 
 
 And thus you have all, but half my Song, 
 Pray list to what comes after ; 
 
 For now I have cooVd you with the Fire, 
 I'll warm you with the Water. 
 
 I'll tell you what the Rivers name is, 
 Where these children did slide-a, 
 
 It was fair Londons swiftest Thaities, 
 That keeps both time and Tide-a. 
 
 All 
 
Complete. 89 
 
 All on the tenth of January, 
 
 To the wonder of much People, 
 Twas frozen o'er that well 'twould bear, 
 
 Almost a Country Steeple. 
 
 Three children sliding thereabouts 
 
 Upon a place too thin, 
 That so at last it did fall out, 
 
 That they did all fall in. 
 
 A great Lord there was that laid with the King, 
 And with the King great wager makes : 
 
 But when he saw he could not win, 
 
 He sigh't, and would have drawn stakes. 
 
 He said it would bear a man for to slide, 
 
 And laid a hundred pound ; 
 The King said it would break, and so it did, 
 
 For three children there were drown'd. 
 
 Of which ones head was from his Should- 
 Ers stricken, whose name was John, 
 
 Who then cr/d out as loud as he could, 
 O Lon-a, Lon-a, London. 
 
 Oh ! tut4ut turn from thy sinful race, 
 
 Thus did his speech decay : 
 I wonder that in such a case, 
 
 He had no more to say. 
 
 And 
 
90 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 And thus being drown'd, alack, alack, 
 The water ran down there throats, 
 
 And stopt their breaths three hours by the Clock, 
 Before they could get any Boats. 
 
 Ye Parents all that children have, 
 
 And ye that have none yet ; 
 Preserve your children from the grave, 
 
 And teach them at home to sit. 
 
 For had these at a Sermon been, 
 
 Or else upon dry ground, 
 Why then I would never have been seen, 
 
 If that they had been drown' d. 
 
 Even as a Huntsman ties his dogs, 
 For fear they should go from him, 
 
 So tye your children with severities clogs, 
 Untye-um and you'l undo-um. 
 
 God bless our Noble Parliament, 
 
 And rid them from all fears, 
 God bless all th' Commons of this Land, 
 
 And God bless some o> th' Peers. 
 
 
Complete. 9 1 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 COme my Daphne, come away, 
 We do waste the Christal day ; 
 Tis Strephon calls : What would my Love ? 
 Come follow to the Mirtle Grove, 
 
 Where Venus shall Prepare 
 
 New Chaplets for thy hair. 
 Were I shut up within a tree, 
 Td rent the bark to follow thee ; 
 
 My shepheard make haste, 
 
 The Minutes fly too fast. 
 
 In those cooler shades will I, 
 
 Blind as Cupid, kiss thine eye ; 
 
 On thy bosome there I'll stray, 
 
 In that warm snow who would not lose their way ; 
 
 We'll laugh, and leave the World behind ; 
 The Gods themselves that see, 
 Shall envie thee and me [,] 
 
 And never find such joys 
 
 When they embrace a Deity. 
 
 The 
 
92 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 The Beggar, a Catch. 
 
 CAst your Caps and cares away, 
 This is the Beggars holliday ; 
 
 At the crowning of our King 
 
 Thus we dance, and thus we sing ; 
 Be it peace, or be it war, 
 Here at liberty we are, 
 And enjoy our peace and rest, 
 To the Field we are not prest, 
 
 Nor be raised in the Town 
 
 To be troubled with a Gown. 
 
 In this world behold and see, 
 Where's so happy a King as he ? 
 Where's the Nation lives so free, 
 Or so merry as do we ? 
 
 Hang up the Officers we cry, 
 
 And your Masters we defie ; 
 
 When the Subsidy daies encreas'd 
 
 We are not a penny seased ; 
 Nor will any go to law 
 With the Beggar for a straw : 
 
 All which happiness, he brags 
 
 He doth owe unto his rags. 
 
 The 
 
Complete. 93 
 
 The Scotch War. 
 
 WHen first the Scottish War began (& Pike, 
 The English man, we did trapan, with pellit 
 The bonny blythe and cunning Scot (like : 
 
 Had then a plot, which they did not well smell, it's 
 Although he could neither write nor read, 
 Yet our General Lashly cross'd the Tweed 
 With his gay gangh, of Blew-caps all, 
 Along we marcht with our General : 
 We took New-Castle in a trice, 
 But we thought it had been paradice, 
 They did look, all so bonny and gay, 
 Till we took all, their Pillage away. 
 
 Then did we streight to plundering fall (day ; 
 
 Of great & small, for we were all most Valiant that 
 
 And yinny in a Satten Gown, the best in the Town, 
 
 From heel to Crown was gallant and gay ; 
 
 Our silks and sweets made such a smother, 
 
 Next day we knew not one another : 
 
 For Iockie did never so shine, 
 
 And Jinny was never so fine, 
 
 A geud faith a gat a ged Beaver then, 
 
 But it's beat into a blew-cap agen 
 
 By a Red-coat, that did still cry, Rag, 
 
 And a red snowt a the Deel aw the Crag. 
 
 The 
 
94 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 The English raised an Army streight (well ; 
 
 With mickle state, and we did wait to face them as 
 
 Then every valiant musquet-man put fire in pan, 
 
 And we began to lace them as well ; 
 
 But before the sparks were made a Cole 
 
 They did every man pay for his Pole ; 
 
 Then their bought land we lent them agen, 
 
 Into Scotland we went with our men ; 
 
 We were paid by all, both Peasant and Prince, 
 
 But I think we have soundly paid for it since, 
 
 For our Silver is wasted, Sir, all, 
 
 And our Silks hang in Westmi?tster Hall. 
 
 The godly Presbyterian, that holy man, 
 
 The war began with Bishop and King, 
 
 Where we like waiters at a Feast, (thing, 
 
 But not the least of all the guest, must dish up the 
 
 We did take a Covenant to pull down 
 
 The Cross, the Crosier, and the Crown, 
 
 With the Rochet the Bishop did bear, 
 
 And the Smock that his Chaplain did wear : 
 
 But now the Covenant's gone to wrack, 
 
 They say, it looks like an old Almanack, 
 
 For Iockie is grown out of date, 
 
 And Ienny is thrown out of late. 
 
 I must confess the holy firk did only work 
 
 Upon our Kirk for silver and meat, 
 
 Which made us come with aw our broods, 
 
 Venter 
 
Complete. 95 
 
 Venter our bloods for aw your goods, to pilfer and 
 
 But we see what covetousness doth bring, (cheat \ 
 
 For we lost our selves when we sold our King; 
 
 And alack now and welly we cry, 
 
 Our backs mow and bellies must dye ; 
 
 We fought for food, and not vain-glory, 
 
 And so there's an end of a Scottish mans story \ 
 
 I curse all your Silver and Gold, 
 
 Aw the worst tale that ever was told. 
 
 The Zealous Puritan. 
 
 MY Bretheren all attend, 
 And list to my relation : 
 This is the day[,] mark what I say, 
 Tends to your renovation ; 
 Stay not among the Wicked, 
 Lest that with them you perish, 
 But let us to New-England go, 
 And the Pagan People cherish \ 
 
 Then for the truths sake come along, come along, 
 
 Leave this place of Superstition : 
 
 Were it not for we, that the Brethren be, 
 
 You would sink into Perdition, 
 
 There you may teach our hymns 
 Without the Laws controulment : 
 
 We need not fear the Bishops there, 
 
 No 
 
96 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Nor Spiritual-Courts inroulment ; 
 Nay, the Surplice shall not fright us, 
 Nor superstitious blindness ; 
 Nor scandals rise when we disguise, 
 And our Sisters kiss in kindness ; 
 Then for the truths sake, &>c. 
 
 For Company I fear not, 
 There goes my Cosin Hannah; 
 And Ruben, so perswades to go 
 My Cosin Joyce, Susanna, 
 With Abigal and Faith, 
 And Ruth, no doubt, comes after • 
 And Sarah kind, will not stay behind. 
 My Cosin Constance Daughter ; 
 Then for the truth, &*c 
 
 Now Tom Tyler is prepared, 
 And the Smith as black as a coal ; 
 Ralph Cobler too with us will go, 
 For he regards his soul ; 
 And the Weaver, honest Simon, 
 With Prudence, Jacobs Daughter, 
 And Sarah, she, and Barbary 
 Professeth to come after ; 
 Then for the truth, &>c. 
 
 When we, that are elected, 
 Arrive in that fair Country, 
 
 Even 
 
Complete. 97 
 
 Even by our faith, as the Brethren saith, 
 We will not fear our entry ; 
 The Psalms shall be our Musick, 
 And our time spent in expounding, 
 Which in our zeal we will reveal 
 To the brethrens joy abounding ; 
 Then for the truths sake, &*c. 
 
 A Merry Song. 
 
 COme let us drink, the time invites, 
 Winter and cold weather, 
 For to pass away long nights, 
 
 And to keep good Wits together ; 
 Better far than Cards or dice, 
 
 Or Isaacs ball, that quaint device, 
 Made up of fan and feather. 
 
 Of great actions on the seas 
 
 We will ne'er be Jealous \ 
 Give us liquor that will please, 
 
 And 'twill make us braver fellows 
 Than the bold Venetian Fleet 
 
 When the Turks and they do meet 
 Within the Dardanellows. 
 
 G Mahomet 
 
9& Merry Drollerie> 
 
 Malwmet was no Divine, 
 
 But a senseless Widgeon, 
 To forbid the use of wine 
 
 Unto those of his religion : 
 Falling sickness was his shame, 
 
 And his throne will have the same 
 For all his whispering pigeon. 
 
 Sack is the Princes only guard, 
 
 If he dare but try it : 
 No designs were ever hard 
 
 Where the Subjects use to ply it; 
 And three Constables, at most, 
 
 Are enough to quell an host 
 That so disturbs our quiet. 
 
 Vallenchyn, that famous Town, 
 Stands the French mans wonder, 
 
 Water it inclos'd to drown, 
 
 And to cut the Troops asunder; 
 
 Turain cast a helpless look, 
 Whilst the crafty Spaniard took 
 
 La Ferte and his plunder. 
 
 Therefore water we disdain, 
 
 Mankinds adversary, 
 Once it made the Worlds whole frame 
 
 In the Deluge to miscarry : 
 Nay the enemy of joy, 
 
 Seeks 
 
Complete. ^9 
 
 Seeks with envy to destroy, 
 And murder good Canaiy. 
 
 See the Squibs, and hear the Bells 
 
 The fifth day of November, 
 The Preacher a sad story tells, 
 
 And with horror doth remember, 
 How some dry-brain'd Traitor wrought 
 
 Plots that might have ruine brought 
 On King and every member. 
 
 We that drink have no such thoughts, 
 
 Black and void of reason, 
 We take care to fill our Vaults 
 
 With good wine for every season : 
 And with many a chearfull cup 
 
 We blow one another up, 
 And that's our only treason. 
 
 Philiday and Coridon. 
 
 IN the merry month of May, 
 On a morn by break of day, 
 Forth I walk the wayes so wide, 
 When as May was in her pride. 
 There I spide all alone 
 Philiday and Coridon. 
 
 G 2 Much 
 
ioo Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Much ado there was I wot, 
 
 He could love, but she could not, 
 
 His love he said was ever true, 
 
 Nor was mine e're false to you. 
 
 He said he had lov'd her long, 
 She said love should do no wrong. 
 
 Coridon would kiss her then, 
 She said maids must kiss no men ; 
 Till they kiss for good and all, 
 Then she made the shepherds call 
 
 All the Gods to witness south, [sooth J 
 Ne'er was lov'd a fairer youth. 
 
 Then with many a pretty Oath, 
 As yea, and nay, and faith and troath, 
 Such as silly shepherds use 
 When they will not love abuse. 
 Love that had been long deluded, 
 Was with Kisses sweet concluded. 
 And Philiday with Garlands gay 
 Was crown'd the Lady of the May. 
 
 On the Preface to Gondibert. 
 
 ROom for the best Poets heroick, 
 If you'l believe two Wits and a Stoick ; 
 Down go the Iliads, down go the Eneidos, 
 All must give place to the Gondibertiados. 
 
 For 
 
Complete. 101 
 
 For to Homer and Virgil he has a just Pique, 
 Because one writ in Latin[,] the other in Greek ; 
 Besides an old grudge (our Criticks they say so) 
 With Ovid, because his Sirname was Naso : 
 If Fiction the fame of a Poet thus raises, 
 What Poets are you that have writ his praises ; 
 But we justly quarrel at this our defeat, 
 You give us a stomach, he gives us no meat. 
 A Preface to no Book, a Porch to no house : 
 Here is the Mountain, but where is the Mouse ; 
 But, Oh, America must breed up the Brat 
 From whence 'twill return a West-Indy Rat. 
 For Will to Virginia is gone from among us 
 With thirty two slaves, to plant Mimdungiis. 
 
 The Wedding. 
 
 I'LL tell thee Dick where I have been, 
 Where I the rarest things have seen, 
 O things beyond compare ! 
 Such sights as these cannot be found 
 In any part of English ground, 
 Be it at Wake or Faire. 
 
 At Charing- Cross, hard by the way 
 Where we, thou know'st, did sell our hay, 
 There is a house with staires ; 
 
 g 3 Whert 
 
102 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Where I did see them coming down 
 Such folk as are not in the Town, 
 Forty at least in paires. 
 
 One of them was pestilent fine, 
 
 His beard no bigger though than mine, 
 
 Walk'd on before the rest : 
 Our Landlord look'd like nothing to him, 
 The King, God bless him, 'twould undo him 
 
 Should he go still so drest. 
 
 At Course-a-park, without all doubt, 
 He should have there been taken out 
 
 By all the maids of the Town ; 
 Though lusty Roger there had been, 
 Or little George upon the Green, 
 
 Or Vincent of the Crown. 
 
 But wot you what, the youth was going 
 To make an end of all his wooing, 
 
 The Parson for him staid : 
 But by your leave, for all your haste 
 He did not wish so much all past, 
 
 Perchance, as did the maid. 
 
 The maid, and thereby lies a tale, 
 For such a maid no Whitson-Ale 
 Could ever yet produce ; 
 
 No 
 
Complete. 103 
 
 No Grape, that's kindly ripe, can be 
 So round so plump, so soft as she, 
 Nor half so full of juice. 
 
 Her fingers were so small, the ring 
 Would not stay on which they did bring, 
 
 It was too wide a peck ; 
 And to say truth, for out it must, 
 It lookt like a great Collar just 
 
 About our young colts neck. 
 
 Her feet beneath her Petticoat, 
 Like little Mice, stole in and out, 
 
 As If they feair'd the light : 
 But O she dances such a way, 
 No Sun upon an Easter day 
 
 Is half so fine a sight. 
 
 He would have kist her once or twice, 
 But she would not, she was so nice 
 
 She would not do't in sight ; 
 And then she look't, as who would say, 
 I will do what I list to day, 
 
 And you shall do't at night. 
 
 Her cheeks so fair a white was on, 
 As none darst make comparison, 
 Who sees them is undon ; 
 
 G 4 For 
 
104 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 For streaks of red were mingled there, 
 Such as are on a Catharine Pear 
 That side that's next the Sun. 
 
 Her mouth so small, when she doth speak, 
 Thou'dst swear her teeth her words do break 
 
 That they might passage get : 
 But O she handles so the matter, 
 They come as good as ours, or better, 
 
 And are not spoyl'd one whit. 
 
 Her lips so red, and one so thin, 
 Compar'd to that was next her chin. 
 
 Some Bee had stung it newly ; 
 But Dick* her eyes so grac'd her face [? guard] 
 I durst no more upon her Gaze 
 
 Than on the sun in July. 
 
 If wishing had been any sin 
 
 The Parsons self had guilty been ; 
 
 She look'd that day so purely ; 
 And did the Youth so oft the feat 
 At night, as some did in conceit, 
 
 It would have spoyl'd him surely. 
 
 Passion, oh me how I run on, 
 There's that that would be thought upon, 
 I trow beside the Bride : 
 
 The 
 
Complete. 105 
 
 The business of the Kitchin great, 
 For it is fit that men should eat, 
 Nor was it there deny'd. 
 
 Just in the nick the Cook knockt thrice, 
 And all the Waiters in a trice 
 
 His summons did obey ; 
 Each serving-man with dish in hand 
 March't boldly up like our Train-band, 
 
 Presented, and away. 
 
 Now hats fly off and Youths carrouse, 
 Healths first go round, and then the house, 
 
 The Brides came thick and thick \ 
 And when 'twas nam'd another health, 
 Perhaps he made it hers by stealth, 
 
 And who could help it Dick ! 
 
 O' th' sudden, up they rise and dance, 
 Then sit again, and sigh and glance, 
 
 Then dance again and kiss : 
 Thus several waies the time did pass, 
 While every woman wish'd her Place, 
 
 And every man wish'd his. 
 
 By this time all were stollen aside 
 To counsell and undress the Bride, 
 But that he must not know ; 
 
 But 
 
106 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 But it was thought he guess'd her mind, 
 And did not mean to stay behind 
 Above an hour or so. 
 
 When in he came, Dick, there she lay, 
 Like new-fain snow, melting away, 
 
 'Twas time, I trow, to part ; 
 Kisses were now the only stay, 
 Which soon she gave, as who would say, 
 
 God b'wy with all my heart. 
 
 But just as heavens would have, to Cross it, 
 In came the Bridemaids with the posset, 
 
 The Bridegroome eat in spight : 
 Or had he left the women to \ 
 It would have cost two hours to do \ 
 
 Which were too much that night. 
 
 At length the Candle's out, and now 
 All that they had not done they do, 
 
 What that is, who can tell ? 
 But I believe it was no more 
 Than thou and I have done before 
 
 With Bridget and with Nel 
 
 A 
 
H 
 
 Complete. 107 
 
 A Song. 
 
 Ow happy is the prisoner who conquers his fate 
 With silence, & ne'er on bad fortune complains, 
 But carelesly plaies with his keyes on the grate, 
 And makes sweet consort with them & his chains ; 
 He drowns care with Sack, when his heart is opprest, 
 And makes his heart float like a Cork in his brest. 
 
 Chor. Then since we are all slaves who Islanders be, 
 And our land is a large Prison enclos'd with the sea, 
 We'll drink off the Ocean, and set our selves free, 
 For man is the Worlds Epitomie. 
 
 Let tyrants wear Purple, deep dy'd in the blood 
 Of those they have slain, their Scepter to sway ; 
 If our consciences be clear, and our titles be good 
 To the rags that hang on us, we are richer than they ; 
 We drink up at night what we can beg or can borrow, 
 , And sleep without plotting for more the next morrow. 
 
 I Come Drawer, fill each man a pint of Canary, 
 
 This brimmer shall bid all our sences good night ; 
 When old Aristotle was frolick and merry, 
 
 With the Juyce of the Grape he turn'd stagarite ; 
 
 Copernicus once in a drunken fit found 
 
 By the course of his brains that the world went round. 
 
 'Tis 
 
io8 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Tis Sack makes our faces like Comets to shine, 
 And gives us a beauty beyond complexions masque ; 
 Diogenes fell so in love with his wine 
 That when 'twas all out he dwelt in the Cask : 
 He liv'd by the scent in that close wainscoat room. 
 And dying, requested the tub for his Tombe. 
 
 Though the Usurer watch o'er his bags and his house, 
 To keep that from robbers he rackt from his debtors ; 
 Each midnight cries thieves at the noise of a mouse, 
 Then looks if his bags are fast bound in their fetters ; 
 When once he's grown rich enough for a state-plot, 
 In one hour Buff plunders what threescore years got. 
 
 Let him never so privately muster his gold, 
 
 His Angels will there intelligence be 
 
 How close they are prest in their Canvas hold, 
 
 And long that state souldiers should set them all free ; 
 
 Let him pine and be hang'd we will merrily sing, 
 
 Who have nothing to lose, may cry, God bless the 
 
 (King. 
 Chor. Then since we are all slaves who Islanders be, 
 And our land a large prison enclos'd with the sea \ 
 We'll drink off the Ocean, and set our selves free, 
 For man is the worlds Epitomie. 
 
 The 
 
Complete. 109 
 
 The Devil transformed. 
 
 I Met with the divel in the shape of a Ram, 
 I then over and over the sowgelders ran • [came] 
 I rose, and I haltred him fast by the horns, 
 I stabb'd him softly, as you would pick out corns, 
 Nay, [Baa] quoth the divel, with that out he slunk, 
 And left us the Carkass of a Mutton that stunk. 
 
 I chanc'd to ride forth some mile and a half, 
 Where I heard he did live in disguise of a Calf \ 
 I bound him, and I gelt him ere he did any evill, 
 For he was at his best but a young sucking divel \ 
 Meaw[!] yet he cry'd, and forth he did steal, 
 And this was sold after for excellent veal. 
 
 Some half a year after, in the shape of a Pig, 
 I met with the rogue, and he look'd very big, 
 I caught him by the leg, laid him down on a log, 
 Ere a man told forty twice I made him a hog ; 
 [Owgh !] Oh, quoth the divel, and gave such a yerk, 
 That a Jew was converted and did eat of the Porke. 
 
 In womans attire I met him most fine r 
 At first sight I thought him some Angel divine : 
 But viewing his crab face I fell to my trade. 
 I made him forswear ever acting a maide ; 
 
 Meaw 
 
no Merry Drollery, 
 
 Meaw, quoth the divel, and so ran away, 
 And hid him in a Fryers old weed, as they say. 
 
 I walked along, and it was my good chance 
 
 To meet with a Grey-coat that was in a trance, 
 
 I grip'd him then speedily, and I whipt off his Cods, 
 
 'Twixt his head and his breech I left little odds ; 
 
 O quoth the divil, the hurt thou hast done 
 
 Thou still wilt be curst for by many a [wo]man. 
 
 Miseries of humane Life, 
 
 THE World's a bubble, and the life of man 
 Less than a span ; 
 In his conception wretched from his wombe, 
 
 So to his tombe ; 
 Curst from the Cradle and brought up to years 
 
 With care and fears ; 
 Who then to frail mortality shall trust, 
 Limns but in water, or but writes in dust. 
 
 Now since with sorrow man lives here opprest, 
 
 What life is best ? 
 Courts are but only superficial Schools 
 
 To dandle fools j 
 The rural parts are turn'd into a den 
 
 Of savage men ; 
 And where's a City from all vice so free, 
 But may be term'd the worst of all the three. 
 
 Domestick 
 
Complete. 1 1 1 
 
 Domestic cares afflict the husbands bed, 
 
 Or pains his head ; 
 Those that live single take it for a curse, 
 
 Or do things worse ; (moan, 
 
 Some would have Children, those that have them 
 
 Or wish them gone ; 
 What is it then to have, or have no wife, 
 But single thraldome, or a double strife. 
 
 Our own affection still at home to please 
 
 Is a disease ; 
 To cross the seas to any forraign soyl 
 
 Is dangerous toyl ; 
 Wars with their noise affright us, when they cease 
 
 We are worse in peace ; 
 What then remains, but that we still should cry, 
 Not to be born, or being born to dye. 
 
 A Cambridge Droll. 
 
 THe Proctors are two and no more, 
 Then hang them that makes them three ; 
 The Taverns are but foure, 
 I wish they were more for me, 
 
 Chor. For three merry boyes, and three merry boyes, 
 And three merry boys are we. 
 
 We'll 
 
H2 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 We'll make, if our numbers mix, 
 
 The Muses triple trine, 
 
 For two and four make six, 
 
 As all men do divine ; 
 
 For two three and four makes nine. 
 
 The Myter no more shall sink, 
 Though Pym himself were there, 
 For that were Popery to think 
 That Puritans dare come there, 
 For catholic Sack is there. 
 
 The Dolphins were numbered never, 
 
 As all men plainly see [;] 
 
 For I am sure for ever 
 
 The Dolphin shall swim free \ 
 
 And that's enough for me. 
 
 The three tuns are forgot 
 When few do go to see ; 
 But there's a tun behind 
 For him, for thee, and for me, 
 To make us frolick and free. 
 
 But if the Doctors droop 
 In whom our number dies, 
 As the Arches put us in hope 
 They are not like to rise, 
 And wine shall make us wise. 
 
 The 
 
Complete. 1 1 3 
 
 The wise men they were seven, 
 
 I wish they were more for me, 
 
 The Muses they were nine, 
 
 The Worthies three times three, 
 
 And three merry boyes, and three merry boyes, 
 
 And three merry boyes are we. 
 
 Resolved not to part. 
 
 Man. TV /T Y Mistris, whom in heart I loved long, 
 
 1 V A Her unkind words, alas, have done me 
 Loe where she comes, I mean her love to try : (wrong, 
 Oh stay a While and hear her kind reply. 
 
 My faithful friend, whom I esteem' d so deer, 
 Rejected is, and gone I know not where \ 
 Forlorn I live, away all joyes are fled, 
 I lost my Love, alas, my heart is dead. 
 
 I will go sail into some Forraign Land, 
 To France or Flanders I'll go out of hand : 
 When I come there, to strangers I'll complain, 
 And say, my Love hath me unkindly slain. 
 
 Wo. If into France or Flanders you do go, 
 I'll not stay here, but follow thee also ; 
 If false report abroad there thou dost tell, 
 I'll check thee for't, and say, thou didst not well. 
 
 h Ma. 
 
114 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 Ma. Else to the Wilderness full fast I'll high, 
 Among mid beasts there I mean to dye. 
 Where Wolves, and Bears and other Creatures, 
 The Elephant and Unicorn with their odd features. 
 
 Wo. O stay at home, sweet heart, and go not there, 
 For those wild beasts will thee in pieces tear ; 
 If that I should behold them suck thy blood (good. 
 Thou shouldst have mine, sweet heart, to do thee 
 
 Ma. I would I were all in the raging seas, 
 Or in some Bark to go even where it please, 
 Where comfort none, alas, is to be found, 
 And every hour in danger to be drown'd. 
 
 Ma. I would I were all in the lofty skies, 
 So far from ground as any Eagle flies, 
 For to fall down to ease me of my pain, 
 That I might die, but die to live again. 
 
 Wo. If in the lofty sky thou should'st remain, 
 I'd soar so high, thy love for to obtain : 
 And like the Eagle keep thee from all harms, 
 That thou shouldst fall in no place but mine arms. 
 
 Ma. Thus many wishes have I wisht in vain, 
 But none of these can ease me of my pain \ 
 This marshall ponyard that shall end all grief, 
 Shall ease my heart that findeth no relief. 
 
 Wo. 
 
Complete. 1 1 5 
 
 Wo. O stay at home, good heart, let it not die, 
 Thy life I love, thy death I do dene : 
 Come live in love, and so thou'lt banish pain, 
 Take a good heart, and I will love again. 
 
 Ma. Go lusty lads, go you the Musick fetch, 
 Your nimble legs and joynts you shall out stretch ; 
 While others dance and caper in the streets, 
 We'll dance at home the shaking of the sheets. 
 
 The Power of Money. 
 
 "nP^IS not the silver nor Gold for it self, 
 
 JL That makes men adore it, but 'tis for its power : 
 For no man does doat upon pelf because pelf, 
 But all Court the Lady in hope of her dower : 
 The wonders that now in our daies we behold ; 
 Done by the irresistible power of gold, 
 Our Zeal, and our Love, and Allegiance do hold. 
 
 (Crowns ; 
 This purchaseth Kingdoms, Kings, Scepters, and 
 Wins battels, and conquers the Conquerors bold ; 
 Takes Bulwarks, and Castles, and Cities, & Towns, 
 And our prime Laws are writ in letters of Gold ; 
 'Tis this that our Parliament calls and creates, 
 Turns Kings into keepers, and Kingdoms to States, 
 And peopledoms these into highdomes translates. 
 
 h 2 This 
 
1 1 6 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 This made our black Synod to sit still so long, 
 To make themselves rich, by making us poor ; 
 This made our bold Army, so daring and strong, 
 And made them turn them, like Geese out of door ; 
 'Twas this made our Covenant-makers to make it, 
 And this made our Priests for to make us to take it, 
 And this made both Makers and Takers forsake it. 
 
 (tees and 'Strators, 
 'Twas this spawn'd the dunghil Crew of Commit- 
 Who live by picking the crockadile Parliaments gums[;] 
 This first made, & then prospered rebels & traitors, 
 And made gentry of those that were the nations scums[;] 
 This herald gives arms not for merit, but store [,] 
 And gives coats to those that did sell coats before, 
 If their pockets be but lin'd well with argent & ore. 
 
 This, plots can devise, and discover what they are \ 
 This, makes the great Fellons the lesser condemn ; 
 This, sets those on the Bench, that should stand at 
 
 (the Bar, 
 Who judge such, as by right ought to execute them ; 
 Gives the boysterous Clown his insufferable pride, 
 Makes beggars, and fools, and Usurpers to ride, 
 Whiles ruin'd Propriators run by their side. 
 
 Stamp either the Arms of the or the 
 
 St. George or the Breeches, or O. P. 
 
 The Cross or the Fiddle, 'tis all the same thing ; 
 
 This, this is the Queen whosoe'er the King be ; 
 
 This 
 
Complete. 1 1 7 
 
 This, lines our Religion, builds Doctrine and Truth, 
 With zeale and the Spirit the factious endueth, 
 To club with Saint Catharine, or sweet sister Ruth. 
 
 (plead 
 'Tis money makes Lawyers give judgment, or 
 On this side, or that side, on both sides or neither ; 
 This makes young men Clerks that can scarce write 
 
 (or read, 
 And spawns arbitrary orders as various as the 
 
 (weather ; 
 This makes your blew Lectures pray preach & prate, 
 Without reason or sence against Church, King, or 
 
 (State, 
 To shrew the thin lining of his twice-covered pate. 
 
 (Esquires 
 'Tis money makes Earls, Lords, Knights, and 
 
 Without breeding, descent, wit, learning or merit ; 
 
 This makes ropers, & ale-drapers, Sheriffs of shires, 
 
 Whose trade is not so low, nor so base as their spirit ; 
 
 This Justices makes, and no wise one we know, 
 
 Furr'd Aldermen too, and Maiors also ; (go. 
 
 This makes the old wife trot, and makes the mare to 
 
 This makes your blew aprons right worshipfull • 
 
 And for this we stand bare, and before them do fall ; 
 
 They leave their young heirs well fleec'd with wooll 
 
 Whom we must call Squires, and they pay all \ 
 
 Who with beggarly souls, though their bodies be 
 
 (gawdy, 
 h 3 Court 
 
1 1 8 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Court the pale chamber-maid, and nick-name her a 
 
 (Lady, 
 And for want of good wit they do swear and talk 
 
 (bawdy. 
 This, marriage makes, 'tis the Center of love, 
 It draws on the man, and it pricks up the woman, 
 Birth, Virtue, and parts no affection can move, 
 Whilst this makes a Lord stoop to the Brat of a 
 
 (Broom man ; 
 This gives virtue and beauty to the Lasses that you 
 Makes women of all sorts and ages to do ; (wooe, 
 'Tis the soul of the world, and the worldling too. 
 
 This procures us whores, hawks, hounds, and hares ; 
 'Tis this keeps your groom and your groom keeps 
 
 (your gelding ; 
 This built Citizens wives as well as their wares : 
 And this makes your coy Lady so coming & yielding; 
 
 This buys us good Sack, which revives like the 
 
 (spring; 
 'Tis this your Poetical fancies do bring ; 
 
 And this makes you as merry as we that do sing. 
 
 On Gondibert. 
 i 
 
 AFter so many sad mishaps, 
 Of drinking, riming, and of claps, 
 
 I pity most thy sad relaps. 
 
 That 
 
Complete. 1 19 
 
 2 
 That having past the souldiers pains, 
 The States-mens Arts, the sea-mens gains, 
 With Gondibert, to break thy brains. 
 
 3- 
 
 And so incessantly to ply it, 
 
 To sacrifice thy sleep, thy diet, 
 
 Thy business ; and what's more our quiet 
 
 4. 
 And all this stir to make a story, 
 
 Not much superior to John Dory, 
 
 Which thus in brief I lay before ye. 
 
 5 
 All in the land of Lombardie, 
 
 A Wight there was of Knights degree, 
 Sir Gondibert ycleap'd w T as he. 
 
 6 
 This Gondibert (as saies our Author) 
 Got the good will of the Kings daughter, 
 A shame, it seems, the divel ought her. 
 
 7- 
 So thus succeeded his Disaster, 
 
 Being sure of the Daughter of his Master, 
 He chang'd his Princes for a Playster. 
 
 8. 
 Of person he was not ungracious, 
 Grave in debate, in Fight audacious ; 
 But in his Ale most pervicacious. 
 
 h 4 And 
 
120 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 9 
 And this was cause of his sad Fate, 
 
 For in a Drunken-street Debate 
 
 One night he got a broken Pate. 
 
 10. 
 Then being cur'd, he would not tarry, 
 But needs this simpling girle would marry 
 Of Astragon the Apothecary. 
 
 ii. 
 To make the thing yet more Romancie, 
 Both wise and rich you may him fancie ; 
 Yet he in both came short of Plancy. 
 
 12. 
 And for the Damsel, he did wooe so, 
 To say the truth she was but so-so, 
 Not much unlike her of Toboso. 
 
 13 
 Her beauty, though 'twas not exceeding, 
 
 Yet what in Face and shape was needing, 
 She made it up in Parts and Breeding. 
 
 14. 
 Though all the Science she was rich in 
 Both of the Dairy and the Kitchin : 
 Yet she had knowledge more bewitching. 
 
 15. 
 For she had learn'd her Fathers skill, 
 
 Both of the Alimbick and the Still, 
 
 The Purge, the Potion, and the Pill. 
 
 But 
 
Complete. 1 2 1 
 
 16 
 But her Chief Talent was a Glister, 
 And such a hand to administer, 
 As on the Breech hath made no blister, 
 
 17. 
 
 So well she handled Gondbert, 
 
 That though she did not hurt that part, 
 She made a blister on his heart. 
 
 18 
 Into the Garden of her Father : 
 Garden, said I ; or Back-side rather, 
 One night she went a Rose to gather. 
 
 19 
 The Knight he was not far behind, 
 
 Full soon he had her in the wind ; 
 
 (For Love can smell, though he be blind.) 
 
 20. 
 Her business she had flnish'd scarcely, 
 When on a gentle bed of parsly r j) esun f 
 
 Full fair and soft he made her Arse-ly. \ Ccetera. 
 
 Canary Crowned. 
 
 COme let's purge our brains from hops & grains 
 That do smell of Anarchy ; 
 Let's chuse a King from whose veins may spring 
 A sparkling Progeny ; 
 
 It 
 
122 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 It ill befits true wine-bred wits, 
 
 Whose flames are bright and clear, 
 To bind their hands in dray-mens bands, 
 
 When they might be clear ; 
 Why should we droop or basely stoop 
 
 To popular Ale or Beer ? 
 
 Who shall be King is now the thing 
 
 For which we all are met : 
 Clarret is a Prince that hath been long since 
 
 In the royal number set : 
 His face is spread with warlike red, 
 
 And so he loves to see men ; 
 If he bears sway, his Subjects they 
 
 Shall be as good as freemen ; 
 Yet here's the plot, almost forgot, 
 
 He is too much burnt by women. 
 
 By the river Rhine is a valiant wine 
 
 That can all our veins replenish, 
 Let us then consent to the government 
 
 Of the royal rule of Rhennish ? 
 This German wine will warm the Chine, 
 
 And frisk in every vein ; 
 Twill make the bride forget to chide, 
 
 And call him to't again : 
 Yet that's not all, he is much to small 
 
 To be our Soveraign. 
 
 Why 
 
Complete. 123 
 
 Why then let's think of another drink, 
 
 And with votes advance it high : 
 Let's all proclaim good Canaries name, 
 
 Heaven bless his Majesty ; 
 He's a King in every thing, 
 
 Whose nature doth renounce all ill : 
 He can make us skip, and nimbly trip 
 
 From the sealing to the groundsill 
 Especially, when Poets be 
 
 Lords of the Privy Council. 
 
 But a Vintner he shall his Taster be,. 
 
 There's no man shall him let ; 
 And a Drawer, that have a good pallat 
 
 Shall be made Squire of the Gimlet \ 
 The Bar-boyes shall be pages all, 
 
 A Tavern well prepar'd, 
 In jovial sort shall be the Court 
 
 Where nothing shall be spar'd • 
 Wine-Porters shall with shoulders tall 
 
 Be Yeomen of the Guard. 
 
 If a Cooper we with a red-nose see 
 
 In any part of the Town, 
 That Cooper shall, with Adds royal, 
 
 Be Keeper of the Crown, 
 Young Wits that wash away their Cash 
 
 In Wine and Recreation, 
 
 Who 
 
124 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Who hate dull Beer are welcome here 
 To give their approbation : 
 
 So are all you that will allow 
 Canaries Coronation. 
 
 Contentment, 
 
 WHat though the ill times do run cross to our 
 And fortune still frown upon us, (will, 
 
 Our hearts are our own, and shall be so still, 
 A fig for the plagues they lay on us • 
 Let us take t'other Cup to chear our hearts up, 
 And let it be Purest Canary ; 
 We'll ne'er shrink nor care at the Crosses we bear, 
 Let them plague us untill they be weary. 
 
 What though we are made both beggars & slaves \ 
 
 Let's endure it, and stoutly drink on't, 
 
 ' Tis our comfort we suffer 'cause we won't be knaves, 
 
 Redemption will come ere we think on't ; 
 
 We must flatter and fear those that over us are, 
 
 And make them believe that we love them, 
 
 When their tyranny is past, we can serve them at last, 
 
 As they served those have been above them. 
 
 Let the Levite go preach for the Goose or the Pig, 
 To drink Wine at Christmas or Easter : 
 The doctor may labour our lives to new trig, 
 
 And 
 
Complete. 125 
 
 And make Nature fast while we feast her ; 
 
 The Lawyer may bawl out his Lungs and his Gall 
 
 For Plaintiff, and for the Defendant, 
 
 At his Book the Scholar lie, while with Plato he die 
 
 With an ugly hard word at the end on't. 
 
 Then here's to the man that delights in sol fa, 
 
 For Sack is his only Rozin, 
 
 A load of hey ho is not worth a ha ha, 
 
 He's a man for my money that draws in j 
 
 Then a pin for the muck, and a pin for ill luck, 
 
 'Tis better be blithe and frolick, 
 
 Than sigh out our breath, and invite our own death 
 
 By the Gout, or the Stone, or the Collick. 
 
 The Power of the Sword. 
 
 LAY by your pleading, Law lies a bleeding, 
 Burn all your Studies down, & throw away your 
 Small power the Word has, & can afford us (reading ; 
 Not halfe so many Priviledges as the Sword has : 
 It fosters your masters, it plaisters disasters, 
 And makes your servants, quickly greater than their 
 It venters, it enters, it circles, it centers, (Masters ; 
 And makes a Prentice free in spight of his Indentures. 
 
 This takes off tall things, and sets up small things, 
 This masters Money, though Money masters all 
 
 (things 
 'Tis 
 
1 26 Merry Drollery \ 
 
 ' Tis not in season to talk of Reason, 
 Or call it legal, when the Sword will have it treason ; 
 It conquers the Crown too, the Furs & the Gown too ; 
 This set up a Presbyter, and this pull'd him down too ;. 
 This sub till Deceiver turn'd Bonnet to Beaver, 
 Down drops a Bishop, and up starts a Weaver. 
 
 This fits a lay-man to preach and to pray man, 
 ; Tis this can make a Lord of him that was a dray- 
 Forth from the dull pit of Follies full pit ; (man, 
 
 This brought an Hebrew Ironmonger to the Pulpit, 
 Such pittiful things be more happier then Kings be ; 
 This got the Herauldry of Thimblebee & Slingsbee ; 
 No Gospel can guide it, no Law can decide it, 
 In Church or State untill the Sword hath sanctifi'd 
 
 (it. 
 
 Down goes the Law-tricks, for from that Matrix 
 Sprung holy Hewsons power, and tumbled down St. 
 The sword prevails so highly in Wales too, {Patricks ; 
 Shinkin ap Powel cries, and swears Cuts-plutter-nails ; 
 In Scotland this Waster did make such disaster, (too \ 
 They sent their money back for which they sold their 
 
 Master \ 
 It batter'd so their Dunkirk, and did so the Don firke 
 That he is fled, and swears, the devil is in Dimkirke. 
 
 He that can tower him o'er him that is lower, 
 Would be but thought a fool to put away his power ; 
 
 Take 
 
Complete. 127 
 
 Take books and rent 'urn, who would invent 'um, 
 When as the Sword replies, negatur argumentum ? 
 Your grand Colledge Butlers must stoop to your 
 There's not a Library living like the cutlers ; (sutlers, 
 The bloud that is spilt, sir, hath gaind all the guilt, sir, 
 Thus have you seen me run the Sword up to the 
 
 (hilts Sir. 
 
 A Medly of Nations. 
 
 The Scots. 
 
 I Am a bonny Scot, Sir, my name is mickle John, 
 'Twas I was in the Plot, Sir, when first the war 
 
 (begun : 
 I left the Court one thousand six hundred forty one, 
 But since the flight at Woster-fight we all are undone ; 
 I serv'd my Lord & Master, when as he lig'd at home, 
 [But since by a sad disaster, he receiv'd his doom,] 
 Our Cause did shrink, God's bread, I think 
 
 The Deel's got in his room : 
 He no man fears ; but stamps and stares 
 
 Through all Christendom. 
 I have travell'd mickle ground 
 Since I came from Worcester Pound, 
 I have gang'd a gallant round 
 
 Through all our neighbouring Nations, 
 
 And what their opinions are 
 
 Unto you I shall declare, 
 
 Of 
 
128 Merry Droller ie, 
 
 Of the Scotch and English War, 
 
 And their approbations ; 
 We were beaten Tag and Rag, 
 
 Foot and Leg, Wem and Crag • 
 Hark, I hear the Dutchmen brag, 
 
 And begin to bluster. 
 
 The Dutch. 
 
 GOds Sacrament, shall Hogen mogen States 
 Strike down their Topsailes unto puny powers ; 
 Ten hundred tun of divels damn the fates 
 
 If all their ships and goods do not prove ours \ 
 Since that bloudy wounds delight them, 
 Tantara rara let the Trumpet sound, 
 Let Vantrump go out and fight them, 
 
 Eldest states should first be crown'd [:] 
 
 English Schellums fight not on Gods side. 
 But alas, they have given our Flemish Boats such a 
 That we shall be forced to retreat ; (broad-side, 
 
 See the French-man cometh in compleat. 
 
 The French. 
 
 BEgar Monsieur 'Tis much in vain 
 For Dutchland, France, or Spain 
 To cross the English Nation ; 
 They are now grown so strong, 
 The divel ere it be long 
 
 Must 
 
Complete. 1 29 
 
 Must learn the English Tongue ; 
 
 'Tis better that we should combine, 
 
 And sell them wine, 
 
 And learn of them to make a Lady fine ; 
 We'll learn of them to trip and mince, 
 
 To kick and wince. 
 For by the Sword we never shall convince, 
 Since every Brewer there can beat a Prince. 
 
 The Spaniard. 
 
 WHat are the English so quarrelsome grown, 
 That they cannot of late let their Neigh- 
 And shall a great and a Catholick King (bours alone ? 
 Let his Scepter be controul'd by a Sword or a Sling ? 
 Or, shall Austria endure 
 Such affronts for to be ? 
 No, we'll tumble down their power, 
 As you shall Senior see. 
 
 The Welch. 
 
 TAffie was once a Cod-a-mighty of Wales, 
 But her Cosin O. P. was a Greature, 
 Come into her Country, Cods-splutter-anails, 
 Her take her welch-hook and her beat her ; 
 Her eat up her Sheese, Turkey and Geese, 
 Her Pig and her Capon did die for't, 
 
 1 Ap 
 
130 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Ap Robert, ap Evan, ap Morgan, ap Stephen, 
 But Shinkin and Powel did flie fort. 
 
 77z<? Irish. 
 
 OHone, O Hone, poor Irish SJwn 
 Must howl and cry : 
 Saint Patrick help thy Country-man, 
 
 Or faith and troth we dye ; 
 The English still doth us pursue, 
 
 And we are forc'd to flee : 
 Saint Patrick, help[!] we have no Saint but thee, 
 Let's cry no longer, O hone, a Cram a Cree. 
 
 The English, 
 
 A Crown, a Crown, make room. 
 The English man doth come, 
 Whose Valour is taller than all Christendom ; 
 The Spa?iish, French, and Dutch, Scots, Welch and 
 
 {Irish grutch, 
 We fear not, we care not, for we can deal with such ; 
 When you did begin in a Civil War to waste, 
 Ye thought that our Tillage your Pillage should be 
 
 (at last ; 
 And when that we could not agree, you did think 
 
 (to share our fall, 
 But ye do find it worse, ne'er stir : for we shall noose 
 
 (ye all. 
 A 
 
Complete, 131 
 
 A quarrel betwixt Tower-Hill and 
 Tybarne. 
 
 I'LL tell you a Story that never was told, 
 A tale that hath both head and heel, 
 And though by no Recorder inroll'd, 
 I know you will find it as true as steel. 
 
 When General Monck was come to the Town, 
 A little time after the Rump had the rout, 
 
 When Royalty rose, and Rebellion fell down, 
 They say, that Tower-hill and Tyburn fell out. 
 
 Quoth terrible Tyburn to lofty tower-hill, 
 Thy longed-for days are come at last, 
 
 And now thou wilt dayly thy belly fulfill 
 With King-killers bloud whilst I must fast. 
 
 The High Court of Justice will come to the Bar, 
 There to be cooked and dressed for thee, 
 
 Whilst I, that live out of Town so far, 
 Must only be fed by Fellony. 
 
 If Treason be counted the foulest act, 
 
 And a dying be a Traitors due, 
 Then why should you all the glory exact ? 
 
 You know, they are fitter for me than you. 
 
 1 2 To 
 
132 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 To speak the plain truth, I have groan'd for them 
 For when they had routed the Royal Root, (long, 
 
 And done the Kingdom so much wrong, 
 I knew at last they would come to't. 
 
 When Tychburne sate upon the Bench, 
 
 Twirling his Chain in high degree, 
 With a beardless Chin, like a Withered Wench, 
 
 Thought I, the Bar is fitter for thee. 
 
 .v But then, with stately composed face, 
 Tower-hill to Tyburne made reply 
 Do not complain, in such a case 
 
 Thou shalt have thy share as well as I. 
 
 There are a sort of Mongrils, which 
 
 My Lordly Scaffold will disgrace : 
 I know Hugh Peters his fingers itch 
 
 To make a Pulpit of the place. 
 
 But take him Tyburne, he is thine own, 
 
 Divide his quarters with thy knife, 
 Who did pollute with flesh and Bone 
 
 The quarters of the Butchers wife. 
 
 The next among these Petticoat-Peers 
 
 Is Harry Martin, take him thither, 
 But he hath been addle so many years, 
 
 That I fear he will hardly hang together. 
 
 There's 
 
Complete. 133 
 
 There's Hacker, zealous Tom Harrison too, 
 
 That boldly defends the bloudy deed, 
 He practiseth what the Jesuites do, 
 
 To murder his King, as a part of his Creed. 
 
 There's single-ey'd Hewsoii the Cobler of Fate, 
 
 Translated into Buff and Feather, 
 But bootless are all his seams of State 
 
 When the soul is ript from the upper-leather. 
 
 Is this prophane mechanical blood * ,# 
 
 For me that have been dignifi'd 
 With Loyal Laud and Straffords blood, 
 
 And holy Hewet, who lately dy'd. 
 
 Do thou contrive with deadly Dun 
 
 To send them to the River of Stix, 
 ' Tis Pitty, since those Saints are gone ; 
 
 That Martyrs and Murtherers bloud should mix. 
 
 Then do not fear me that I will 
 
 Deprive thee of that fatall Day : 
 'Tis fit those that their King did kill 
 
 Should hang up in the Kings high-way. 
 
 My Priviledge, though I know it is large, 
 
 Into thy hand I freely give it, 
 For there is Cook, that read the Kings charge, 
 
 Is only fit for the divels tribute. 
 
 1 3 Then 
 
134 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Then taunting Tyburn, in great scorn, 
 Did make Tower-hill this rude reply : 
 
 So much ranke bloud my stomack will turn. 
 And thou shalt be sick as well as I. 
 
 These Traytors made those Martyrs bleed 
 Upon the Block, that thou dost bear, 
 
 And there it is fit they should dye for the deed ; 
 But Tower-hill cryed, they shall not come there. 
 
 With that grim Tyburn began to fret, 
 
 And Tower-hill did look very grim : 
 And sure as a club they both would have met, 
 
 But that the City did step between. 
 
 The New Exchange. 
 
 I'll go no more to the Old Exchange, 
 There's no good Ware at all, 
 But I will go to the New Exchange, 
 
 Called Haberdashers Hall : 
 For there are choice of Knacks and Toyes 
 
 The fancy for to please, 
 For men and maids, for Girls and boyes, 
 
 And a Trap for Lice and Fleas ; 
 There you may buy a Holland Smock 
 
 That's made without a gore, 
 You need not stoop to take it up, 
 For it is button'd down before. 
 
 The 
 
Complete. 1 3 5 
 
 The finest Fashions that are us'd, 
 
 And Powders that excell, 
 And all the best and sweet perfumes 
 
 To rarifie the smell ; 
 The curious rich Vermilion Paint 
 
 That maids of beauty hold, 
 And Alabaster driven snow 
 
 Is there to be bought and sold. 
 And there, &°c. 
 
 The broad-brim'd Beaver which is made 
 
 Most curious, soft, and fine, 
 Will be a shadow in the face 
 
 When as the Sun doth shine ; 
 Fine Feathers and Ribbons you may have 
 
 For to wear about the Crown ; 
 Black Patches for the face also, 
 
 O, the best in all the Town ; 
 For there, 6% 
 
 There is curious powdered Periwigs, 
 
 And new-cut fashion'd gloves, 
 With Bodkins, Thimbles, and gold Rings, 
 
 As men do give unto their Loves ; 
 There's curious Books of Complements, 
 
 And other fashions strange, 
 That never a place in all the Land 
 
 Is like the New Exchange, 
 For there, e>r. 
 
 1 4 Great 
 
1 36 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Great Flanders-Laces, large and white. 
 
 Are common to be sold, 
 And Silver Laces, very broad, 
 
 And some that's made of Gold ; 
 Both Knives and Sizers, sharp and keen. 
 
 And Kerchies very fair, 
 Within the Change are dayly sold, 
 
 For pretty maids to wear ; 
 There you, &*c. 
 
 Fine Silken Masks, and new French hoods, 
 
 To shrowd the foulest face, 
 And every thing that costly is, 
 
 Is present in this place ; 
 There's Spanish Needles, Points, and Pins, 
 
 And curious balls of Snow, 
 That doth perfume the stinking breath, 
 
 And makes them wholsome too ; 
 And there, &>c. 
 
 There's precious Oyles to cleanse the teeth, 
 
 And Purges for the Brain, 
 And Antidotes to make the Nose 
 
 Both safe and sound again ; 
 All precious Flowers may be had, 
 
 And rich Perfumed Spice 
 To make your houses all 
 
 To smell like Paradice ; 
 And there, &*& 
 
 For 
 
Complete. 137 
 
 For one that hath a fluent tongue 
 
 You may have medi[ci]nes good ; 
 And there is searching Physick too, 
 
 To purge corrupted blood ; 
 You there may purifie the skin, 
 
 And cure the tickling itch, 
 For he is the best esteem'd of all 
 
 That is both free and rich ; 
 And there, &*c. 
 
 Besides these fashions, strange and true, 
 
 There's other things most rare. 
 Which are the witty, pretty maids 
 
 All bound as Servants there : 
 Whose heavenly look invites the eyes 
 
 Of gallant Gentlemen, 
 To buy some curious Knack or Toy, 
 
 And then they'll come agen \ 
 And there, 6°<r. 
 
 The bravest Lords and Ladies all 
 
 Do thither much resort, 
 And buy the fashions that are us'd, 
 
 And daily worn at Court ; 
 For Private profit, divers times, 
 
 Some upstart Gentlemen walk, 
 And take new fashions up on trust, 
 
 And nothing pay but Chalk ; 
 
 And there, &>c. 
 
 Let 
 
138 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 Let me invite those that intend 
 
 To follow fashions strange, 
 With speed to go to Londons pride, 
 
 Now called the Exchange ; 
 Where choice and store of things most rare 
 
 For money may be had, 
 Besides a gallant bonny Lass 
 
 To serve a lively Lad ; 
 There you may have a Holland Smock 
 
 That's made without a gore, 
 You need not stoop to take it up, 
 
 For 'tis button'd down before. 
 
 A Medley. 
 
 LEt's call, and drink the Cellar dry, 
 Here's nothing sober underneath the sky, 
 The greatest Kingdoms in confusion lye : 
 Since all the world grows mad, why may not I ? 
 
 My fathers dead, and I am free, 
 He left no Children in the World, but me, 
 The divel drank him down with Usury, 
 And I'll repine in Liberality. 
 
 When first the English War began 
 
 He was, Sir Reverence, a Parliament man, 
 
 And gain'd his wealth by Sequestration, 
 
 Till 
 
Complete. 139 
 
 Till Oliver begun 
 To come with Sword in hand, & put him to the run. 
 
 Then Royallists, since you are undone 
 
 So by the Father, come home to the Son, 
 
 Whom Wine and Musick now do wait upon, 
 
 We'll tipple away a Tun, 
 
 And drink our Woes away, Cavaliers come on, come 
 
 (on. 
 
 Heres a health to him that may 
 Do a trick that shall advance us all, 
 And beget a merry Jovial day, 
 
 Fill another boule to he 
 That hath drank by stealth 
 
 His Landlords health 
 If his Spirit and his Tongue agree. 
 
 The Land shall Celebrate his Fame, 
 All the World imbalm his name, 
 No Royal Right, Good Fellow, 
 But will Sackifie the same ; 
 The Bells all merrily shall ring, 
 All the Town shall dance and sing, 
 More delight than I can tell ye, 
 When we see this Royal Spring 
 We'll have Ladies by the belly, 
 And a snatch at t' other thing. 
 
 Wee's 
 
140 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Wee's be bonny and jolly, 
 
 Quaff, Carrouse, and Reel : 
 
 We'll play with Peggy and Molly, 
 
 Dance, and kiss, and Feel ; 
 
 Wee's put up the Bagpipe and Organ, 
 
 And make the Welch Harp to play, (day ; 
 
 Till Mauris ap Shinkin ap Morgan frisk on St. Taffies 
 
 Hold out Ginny, Piper come play us a spring, 
 
 All you that have Musick may tipple, dance, and sing. 
 
 Tet [Let] the French Monsieur come and swear, 
 
 Intreut Monsieur, \Entrait] 
 
 Dis is de ting ve long to hear so many year ; 
 Dancing will be lookt upon ; 
 Begar his dancing days be done 
 When de Flower-de-luce grows 
 With de English Crown and Rose ; 
 Dat's very good, as we suppose, 
 De French can live without a Nose. 
 
 A cup of old Stingo. 
 
 T Here's a lusty liquor which 
 Good fellows use to take, 
 It is distill'd with Nard most rich, 
 
 And water of the Lake ; 
 Of Hop a little quantity, 
 
 And 
 
> 
 
 Complete. 141 
 
 And Barm to it they bring too. 
 Being barrelFd up, they call it a cup 
 Of dainty good old Stingo. 
 
 'Twill make a man Indentures make, 
 
 'Twill make a fool seem wise, 
 'Twill make a Puritan sociate, 
 
 And leave to be precize : 
 ; Twill make him dance about a Cross, 
 
 And eke run the Ring too, 
 Or any thing that seemeth gross, 
 
 Such vertue hath old Stingo. 
 
 'Twill make a Constable oversee 
 
 Sometimes to serve a warrant, 
 ' Twill make a Baylif lose his Fee, 
 
 Though he be a Knave- Arrant ; 
 'Twill make a Sumner, though that he 
 
 Unto the bawd men brings too, 
 Sometimes forget to take his Fee, 
 
 If his head be lin'd with Stingo. 
 
 'Twill make a Parson not to flinch, 
 
 Though he seem wondrous holy, 
 But for to kiss a pretty Wench, 
 
 And think it is no follie ; 
 'Twill make him learn for to decline 
 
 The Verb that's called Mingo, 
 
 'Twill 
 
142 Merry Drollery \ 
 
 'Twill make his Nose like Copper shine, 
 If his head be lin'd with stingo. 
 
 'Twill make a Weaver break his yarn, 
 
 That works with right and left foot, 
 But he hath a trick to save himself, 
 
 He'll say, there wanteth woofe to't ; 
 'Twill make a Taylor break his thread, 
 
 And eke his Thimble ring too, 
 'Twill make him not to care for bread 
 
 If his head be lin'd with stingo. 
 
 'Twill make a Baker quite forget 
 
 That ever corn was cheap, 
 'Twill make a Butcher have a fit • 
 
 Sometimes to dance and leap ; 
 'Twill make a Miller keep his Room, 
 
 A health for to begin too, 
 'Twill make him shew his golden thumb, 
 
 If his head be lin'd with stingo. 
 
 'Twill make an Hostis free of heart, 
 
 And leave her measures pinching, 
 'Twill make an Host with liquor part, 
 
 And bid him hang all flinching ; 
 It's so belov'd, I dare protest, 
 
 Men cannot live without it, 
 And where they find there is the best, 
 
 The Most will flock about it. 
 
 And 
 
Complete. 143 
 
 And finally, the beggar poor, 
 
 That walks till he be weary, 
 Graving along from door to door 
 
 With pre commiserere : 
 If he do chance to catch a touch, 
 
 Although his cloaths be thin too, 
 Though he be lame he'll prove his Crutch, 
 
 If his head be lin'd with Stingo, 
 
 Now to conclude, here is a health 
 
 Unto the Lad that spendeth, 
 Let every man drink off his Can, 
 
 And so my Ditty endeth ; 
 I willing am my friend to pledge, 
 
 For he will meet me one day ; 
 Let's drink the Barrel to the dregs, 
 
 For the Mault-man comes a Munday, 
 
 Of the Nose, 
 
 THree merry Lads met at the Rose 
 To speak in the praises of the Nose : 
 The Nose that stands in the middle place 
 
 Sets out the beauty of the Face, 
 The Nose with which we have begun 
 Will serve to make our verses run : 
 Invention often barren grows, 
 Yet still therms matter in the Nose. 
 
 The 
 
144 Merry Dr otter ie, 
 
 The Nose his end's so high a prize 
 That men prefer't before their eyes, 
 
 And no man counts him for his friend 
 That boldly takes his Nose by the end : 
 
 The Nose that like Uripus flowes, 
 The Sea that did the wiseman pose, 
 Invention often, &c. 
 
 The Nose is of as many kinds 
 As Mariners can reckon winds ; 
 
 The long, the short, the Nose displayd, 
 
 The great Nose, which did fright the maid ; 
 
 The Nose through which the Brother-hood, 
 Do parly for their Sisters good, 
 Invention often, &c. 
 
 The flat, the sharp, the Roman Snowt, 
 The Hawkes Nose circled round about, 
 
 The Crooked Nose that stands awry, 
 The Ruby Nose of Scarlet dye, 
 
 The brazen Nose without a Face 
 
 That doth the Iear?ied Colledge grace, 
 Invention often, &c. 
 
 The long Nose when the teeth appear 
 Shews what's a Clock if day be clear ; 
 
 The broad Nose stands in a Bucklers place, 
 And takes the blows for all the face ; 
 
 The 
 
Complete. 145 
 
 The Nose being plain without a Ridge, 
 Will serve sometimes to make a Bridge. 
 Invention often, &c. 
 
 The short Nose is the Lovers bliss, 
 
 Because it hinders not a kiss 5 
 The toteing Nose, O monstrous thing ! 
 
 That's he that did the bottle bring, 
 And he that brought the bottle hither 
 
 Will drink (O monstrous !) out of measure. 
 Invention ofte?i, &c. 
 
 The Firie Nose m Lanthorn stead 
 May light his Master home to bed, 
 
 And whosoever this Treasure owes 
 
 Grows poor in purse though rich in Nose : 
 
 The Brazen Nose that's o'er the gate 
 Maintains full many a Latin Pate. 
 I?ivention often, &c. 
 
 If any Nose take this in snuff, 
 
 And think it more than enough \ 
 We answer them, we did not fear, 
 
 Nor think such Noses had been here : 
 But if there be, we need not care, 
 A nose of Wax our Statutes are. 
 Invention now is barren grown, 
 The Matter's out, the Nose is blown. 
 
 k The 
 
130 [146] Merry Drollerie, 
 
 The Angler. 
 
 OF all the recreations which 
 Attend to humane Nature, 
 There's nothing soars so high a pitch 
 
 Or is of such a stature, 
 As is the subtil Anglers life 
 
 In all mens approbation, 
 For Anglers tricks do daily mix 
 
 With every Corporation, 
 When Eve and Adam liVd in Love 
 
 And had no cause of Jangling, 
 The Divel did the Waters move, 
 
 The Serpent went to Angling : 
 He baits his hook with god-like look, 
 
 Thought he, this will intangle her, 
 The woman chops, and down she drops ; 
 
 The Divel was first an Angler. 
 
 Physicians, Lawyers, and Divines 
 
 Are most Ingenious Janglers, 
 And he that tries shall find in fine 
 
 That all of them are Anglers ; 
 Whilst grave Divines do fish for souls, 
 
 Physicians (like Cormugeons) 
 Do bait with health, to fish for wealth, 
 
 And Lawyers fish for Gudgeons. 
 
Complete, [ J 47] 131 
 
 A Politician too is one 
 
 Concern'd in Piscatory, 
 He writes, he fights, unites and slights 
 
 To purchase wealth and glory \ 
 His Plummet sounds the Kingdoms bounds 
 
 To make the Fishes nibble, 
 His Ground-bait is a past of lies 
 
 And he blinds them with th' Bible. 
 
 Upon the Exchange 'twixt twelve and one 
 
 Meets many a neat Intangler, 
 'Mongst Merchant-men not one in ten 
 
 But is a cunning Angler : 
 For like the Fishes in the Brook 
 
 Brother doth swallow Brother, 
 A Golden-bait hangs at the Hook, 
 
 And they fish for one another. 
 
 A Shop-keeper I next Prefer 
 
 A formal man in black Sir, 
 He throws his Angle every where, 
 
 And cryes, what is't you lack Sir, 
 Fine Silks or Stuffs or Hoods or Muffs ? 
 
 But if a Courtier prove the Intangler, 
 My Citizen must look to't then, 
 
 Or the Fish will catch the Angler. 
 
 A Lover is an Angler too, 
 
 And baits his Hooks with kisses, 
 
 k 2 He 
 
148 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 He plaies, he toyes, he fain would do, 
 
 But often times he misses ; 
 He gives her Rings and such fine things 
 
 A Fan and Muff and Night-hood : 
 But if you cheat a City pate, 
 
 You must bait your hook with Knight-hood. 
 
 There is no Angler like a Wench 
 
 Stark-naked in the water, 
 She'l make you leave both Trout and Tench 
 
 And throw your self in after ; 
 Your Hook and Line she will confine, 
 
 Then tangled is the intangler, 
 And this I fear hath spoyl'd the ware 
 
 Of many a Jovial Angler. 
 
 But if you'l Trowl for a Scriveners soul 
 
 Cast in a rich young Gallant, 
 To take a Courtier by the pole, 
 
 Though in a Golden Tallent : 
 But yet I fear the draught will ne'er 
 
 Compound for half the charge an 7 t, 
 But if you'l catch the Devil at a snatch 
 
 You must bait him with a Sergeant. 
 
 Thus have I made my Anglers Trade 
 
 To stand above defiance, 
 For like the Mathematick Art, 
 
 It runs through every Science : 
 
 I 
 
 If 
 
Complete. 149 
 
 If with my Angling Song I can 
 To Mirth and pleasure seize you, 
 
 Fie bait my hook with Wit again, 
 And Angle still to please you. 
 
 T 
 
 Of the two Amorous Swains. 
 OM and Will were Shepherds Swains 
 
 Who lov'd and lived together, 
 Till fair Pastora grac'd the Plains, 
 
 Alas ! why came she thither : 
 Tom and Will fed several Flocks ; 
 
 Yet felt both one desire ; 
 Pastords Eyes and comely Locks 
 
 Set both their hearts on fire. 
 
 Tom came of a gentle race 
 
 By Father and by Mother, 
 Will was noble, but alass 
 
 He was a younger Brother ! 
 Tom was toy-some, Will was sad, 
 
 No Hunts-man nor no Fowler, 
 Tom was held the properer Lad, 
 
 But Will the better Bowler. 
 
 Tom would drink her health and swear 
 
 The Nation could not want her, 
 Will would take her by the Eare 
 
 And with his Voice enchant her : 
 
 k 3 Tom 
 
134 t^ ] Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 Tom kept alwaies in her sight 
 
 And ne'er forgot his duty, 
 Will was witty and would write 
 
 Sweet Sonnets on her Beauty. 
 
 Yet which of them she loved best, 
 
 Or whether she lov'd either ; 
 'Twas thought they found it to their cost 
 
 That she indeed lov'd neither : 
 Yet she was so sweet a she 
 
 So pleasing in behaviour, 
 That Tom thought he, and Will thought he 
 
 Was chiefest in her favour. 
 
 Pastora was a lovely Lass 
 
 And of a comely feature, 
 Divinely good and fair she was, 
 
 And kind to every Creature : 
 Of favour she was provident : 
 
 And yet not over-sparing, 
 She gave no loose encouragment, 
 
 Yet kept men from despairing. 
 
 When tatling fame had made report 
 
 Of fair Pastora 's beauty, 
 Pastora's sent for to the Court, 
 
 For to perform her duty ; 
 And to the Court Pastora! s gone, 
 
 It were no Court without her, 
 
 
 The 
 
Complete. [ l S l ] 135 
 
 The Queen of all her Train had none 
 Was half so fair about her. 
 
 Tom hung his Dog, and flung away 
 
 His Sheep hook, and his Wallet ; 
 Will broke his Pipes, and Curst the day 
 
 That ere he made a Ballet ; 
 Their Nine-pins and their bowls they brake, 
 
 Their Tunes were turn'd to Tears ; 
 'Tis time for me an end to make, 
 
 Let them go shake their Ears. 
 
 Sweet rest in the Grave. 
 
 Wake all you dead[,] what Ho[!] what Ho[!] 
 How soundly they sleep whose Pillows lie low ; 
 They mind not your lovers who walk above 
 On the decks of the world in storms of Love, 
 No whisper now, no Glance can pass 
 Through wick[et]s or through panes of Glass, 
 For our Windows and Doores are shut and Barr'd [;] 
 Lie close in the Church and in the Churchyard, 
 
 In every grave, make room, make room, 
 The world's at an end, and we come, we come. 
 The State is now, Loves foe, Loves foe, 
 Has seiz'd on his Arms, his Quiver and Bowe, 
 Has pinion'd his Wings, and fetter'd his feet, 
 Because he made way for Lovers to meet ; 
 
 k 4 But 
 
152 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 But oh sad chance, his Judge was old ; 
 
 Hearts cruel grow, when blood grows cold [:] 
 No man being young, his Process would draw, 
 Oh Heavens that Love should be subject to Law, 
 
 Lovers go wooe the dead the dead ! 
 
 Lie two in a grave, and to bed, to bed. 
 
 The Production of the Female 
 Kind. 
 
 THere is a certain idle kind of Creature, 
 By a foolish name, we call a woman ; 
 A pox upon this little old whore Nature ; 
 That e're she brought this Monster to undo man ; 
 Many have wondred how it came to pass, 
 But mark, and I will tell you how it was : 
 
 When first she brought forth man, her son and heir, 
 The Gods came all one day to gossip with her, 
 Her husband, Le?ius, proud to see them there, 
 Drank healths apace to bid them welcome thither, 
 Till drunk to bed he went, and in the fit 
 He got the second child, this female Chit. 
 
 The Privy Council of the Heavens and Planets, 
 Whose wisdom governs all Affairs on Earth, 
 Held many consultations in their Senates 
 What should become of this prodigious Birth, 
 
 At 
 
Complete. 153 
 
 At length agreed to give these strange formallities 
 As many strange and correspondent quallities. 
 
 Saturn, gave sullenness \ Jove, soveraignity \ 
 
 Mars, sudden wrath, and unappeased hate ; 
 
 Sol, a garish look, and a wanton eye ; 
 
 Venus, desires and Lusts insatieties ; [? insatiate ;] 
 
 Mercury, craft, and deep dissembling gave her ; 
 
 Luna, inconstant thoughts, still apt to waver. 
 
 The Bow-Goose. 
 
 THe best of Poets write of Frogs, 
 Some of Ulysses charmed Hogs, 
 And some of Flies, and some of Dogs 
 In former Ages told : 
 Some of the silver Swan in Prose, 
 Though mine be not a Swan, what though ? 
 It was a Goose was brought from Bow 
 To Algate. 
 
 As harmless, and as innocent 
 She was as those that with her went ; 
 Nor do I think the watchmen meant 
 More sillier than She ; 
 She gave them never a word at all, 
 But only rested on a stall, 
 And yet these Cannibals did fall, 
 About her. 
 
 But 
 
138 [ 1 54] Merry Drollerie, 
 
 But she with silence there stood still, 
 Till he perceived each mans bill, 
 Desiring them not use them ill 
 That lookt so like them all : 
 Then they disdaining, did begin 
 To bring us all into a gin, 
 And then the Constable came in, 
 And took us. 
 
 To him they straight reveal'd the case, 
 And vow'd each man to quit his place, 
 If we were suffered to disgrace 
 The Kings Lievtenant so : 
 And then the Ganders eminence 
 The Goose and us commanded thence, 
 And made us graduates commence 
 The Counter. 
 
 We thither went, but then my Goose, 
 Which pinion'd was before, got loose, 
 For having her within a noose 
 What fear had they of her ? 
 Then into every room we went, 
 And here and there our money spent 
 Untill the Constable had sent 
 Next morning. 
 
 We summoned were for to appear 
 Before an Alderman, I swear, 
 
 That 
 
Complete. [155] 139 
 
 That might have been that very year 
 Lord Maior for his wit : 
 He tooke our Gooses case in hand, 
 And all things with such Judgement scan'd, 
 That having done, we scarce could stand 
 For laughing. 
 
 For he did not only reprehend 
 Our follies, but did much commend 
 The Constable, his honest friend, 
 For his good service done ; 
 How is that noble City blest 
 With Officers above the rest, 
 That now may add unto their Crest 
 My Bow Goose ? 
 
 But now, with grief, I'll tell you what, 
 My Goose that was before so fat, 
 That might have been accepted at 
 A Maior or Sheriffs own boord, 
 Grew lanck and lean, and straight so ill, 
 That from her wings she shed a Quill, 
 Desiring me to write her Will, 
 Which I did. 
 
 Then thus my dying Goose began, 
 
 Unto the Reverend Alderman 
 
 I do bequeath my brain-sick pan, 
 
 And all that it contains : 
 
 And 
 
156 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 And Master Constable, to you 
 My empty head, which is your due ; 
 My Bill I'll give the cursed crue 
 Your Watchmen. 
 
 I do bequeath my bodies trunk 
 Unto Good Fellows for the Rump, 
 Desiring that it may be drunk 
 In Clarret and Canary : 
 I pray discharge your company 
 All such as shall Recusants be 
 To drink a health in memory 
 O' th' Bow-Goose. 
 
 My Giblets to the City Cook 
 That dwels not far from Pasty-nook, 
 That he unto my Corps may look, 
 And coffin't in a Crust ; 
 My guts for Marshal red-face save, 
 To hang about his neck so brave, 
 That on his Palfrey the proud Knave 
 May swagger. 
 
 And to my fellow prisoners all, 
 That now here are, or ever shall, 
 That come to lye within this wall, 
 I give my heavy heart ; 
 My claws and pinions I do give 
 Unto the Serjeants and Sheriff, 
 
 To 
 
Complete. 157 
 
 To catch and pinion them that live 
 Indebted. 
 
 And furthermore, it is my will 
 The City Clerk shall have a quill 
 Such learned speeches to write still, 
 As his grave Lordship utters ; 
 And likewise Mistris Alderman 
 Shall have my tail to make a Fan ; 
 My Legs I'll give the Gentleman 
 Her Usher 
 
 Because my kindred of Bridewel 
 Such asses to the Cart compel 
 As occupy their Trades so well, 
 I do forbid them all, 
 That they presume not for to come 
 Whereas my Dirges shall be sung, 
 For I'll have wiser in the room 
 Than they are. 
 
 The Beadle and the Bell-man I 
 Executors do make, thereby 
 Such legacies to satisfie 
 As I have here related ; 
 And that all things perform'd may be, 
 This my last Will to oversee 
 I do ordain the Deputy 
 Of Duck-lane. 
 
 There's 
 
142 [158] Merry Drollery, 
 
 There's one thing more I do conceive. 
 Almost forgot, I do bequeath 
 My Tongue, which tatling cannot leave, 
 Unto the City Council, 
 That they may mediate a truce 
 Between the City and me their Goose, 
 Who wooes to be their constant Muse 
 For ever. 
 
 Write on my Tombe this Epitaph, 
 Whereat, I pray, let no man laugh : 
 Here lies a Goose that could not quaff, 
 And yet was a good Fellow ; 
 The coursest of our kindred must 
 Return with me unto the dust, 
 And after me who shall be first 
 None knoweth. 
 
 Now let them in their Liveries call 
 The boys from every Hospitall 
 To sing my solemn funeral 
 With Dirges to my grave ; 
 And when my Goose had uttered this 
 O then my Goose began to piss, 
 And sighing, with a harmeless hiss, 
 Departed. 
 
 News 
 
Complete. [ J 59] r 43 
 
 News. 
 
 WHite Bears are lately come to Town, 
 That's no news ; 
 And Cuckolds Dogs shall pull them down, 
 
 That's no news 
 Ten Dozen of Capons sold for a Crown, 
 Hey ho, that's news indeed. 
 
 A Jackanapes at a Merchants door, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 An Irish man in an Ale-house score, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 And Gravesend Barge without a Whore, 
 
 Hey ho, that's news indeed. 
 
 A fizling Cur in a Ladies lap, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 A Feather to shake in a Fool's cap, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 A Lyon caught in a Mouse Trap, 
 
 Hey ho, that's news indeed. 
 
 A younger Brother slow to thrive, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 A Drone to rob the poor Bees hive, 
 
 That's no news \ 
 
i6o Merry Drollerie, 
 
 A Parsons wife not apt to swive, 
 
 Hey ho, that's news indeed. 
 
 A Taylor brisk in swaggering hose 
 
 That's no news ; 
 A Frenchman stradling as he goes, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 A Drunkard without a Copper nose, 
 
 Hey ho, that's news indeed. 
 
 A Dutchman to be dayly drunk, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 A Captain to maintain a Punk, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 A Wardrobe in an empty Trunk. 
 
 Hey ho, that's news indeed. 
 
 To see two Ships at sea to grapple, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 To see a horse that's all dapple, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 To see a red nose roast an apple, 
 
 Hey ho, that's news indeed. 
 
 A Petty-fogger brib'd with fees, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 A Welchman cramm'd with toasted Cheese, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 
 A 
 
Complete. 1 6 1 
 
 A Lad and a Lass in bed to freeze 
 
 Hey ho, that's news indeed. 
 
 A Sattin suit without a Page, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 A rayling Poet o'er the Stage, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 A rich man honest in this Age, 
 
 Hey ho, that's news indeed. 
 
 A Lawyer to turn hypocrite, 
 
 That's no news \ 
 A Serjeant to arrest a Knight, 
 
 That's no news ; 
 A Court without a Parasite, 
 
 Hey ho, that's news indeed. 
 
 Before my news be overslipt, 
 
 That's no news, 
 I wish all Knaves from London Shipt, 
 
 That's no news, 
 And all the whores in Bridewell whipt, 
 
 Hey ho, that's news indeed. 
 
1 62 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 A Discourse between a Sea-man and 
 a Land-Souldier. 
 
 We Sea-men are the honest boys, 
 We fear no storms, nor Rocks-a, 
 Whose Musick is their Cannons noise, 
 Whose sporting is with Knocks-a. 
 
 Mars hath no Children of his own, 
 But we that fight by Land-a [,] 
 
 Land-Souldiers Kingdoms up have thrown, 
 Yet they unshaken stand-a. 
 
 Tis brave to see a tall Ship sail 
 With all her trim geer on her, 
 As though the divel were in her tail 
 Before the wind she'll run-a. 
 
 Our main Battalia when it moves 
 There's no such glorious thing-a, 
 Whose Leaders, like so many J^oves, 
 Abroad their thunders fling-a. 
 
 Come let's reckon what Ships are ours, 
 The Gorgon, and the Dragon, 
 The Lyon which in field is bold, 
 The Bull with bloudy Flagon, 
 
 Come 
 
Complete. 163 
 
 Come let's reckon what works are ours, 
 Forts, Bulwarks, Barricadoes, 
 Mounts, Gabinets, Parrapits, Counter-mines, 
 Casimates, and Pallizadoes, 
 
 Field-Peeces, Musquets, groves of Pikes, 
 Carbines, and Canoneers, 
 
 Quadrants ; and Half-moons, and Ranks of Files, 
 And Fronts, and Vans, and Rears. 
 
 A health to brave Land-Souldiers all, 
 Let Cans a piece go round-a : 
 And to all Seamen, great and small, 
 Let lofty Musick sound-a. 
 
 A Song. 
 
 MY Mistris is in Musick passing skilful, 
 And Plaies and sings her part at the first sight, 
 But in her play she is exceeding wilful, 
 And will not play but for her own delight, 
 Nor touch one string, nor play one pleasing strain, 
 Unless you take her in a pleasing vein. 
 
 Also she hath a sweet delicious touch 
 1 Upon the Instrument whereon she plaies, 
 And thinks that she doth never do too much, 
 Her pleasures are dispers'd so many waies ; 
 
 l 2 She 
 
164 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 She hath such Judgement both in time and mood, 
 That for to play with her 'twill do you good. 
 
 And then you win her heart : but here's the spight. 
 
 You cannot get her for to play alone, 
 
 But play with her, and she will play all night, 
 
 And next day too, or else 'tis ten to one, 
 
 And run division with you in such sort, 
 
 Run ne'er so swift she'll make you come too short, 
 
 Still so she sent for me one day to play, 
 Which I did take for such exceeding grace, 
 But she so tir'd me ere I went away : 
 I wisht I had been in another place : 
 She knew the play much better than I did, 
 And still she kept me time for heart and bloud. 
 
 I love my mistris, and I love to play, 
 So she will let me play with intermission : 
 But when she ties me to it all the day, 
 I hate and loath her greedy disposition ; 
 Let her keep time, as nature doth require, 
 And I will play as much as she'll desire. 
 
 w 
 
 In Praise of Ale. 
 
 Hen the chill Charokoe blows, [Scirocco] 
 And Winter tells a heavy tale, 
 
 And 
 
Complete. 165 
 
 And Pies and Daws, and Rooks and crows 
 Do sit and curse the frost and snows, 
 Then give me Ale. 
 
 Ale in a Saxon Rumkin then, 
 Such as will make grim Malkin prate, 
 Bids Valour bargain in't all men, [burgeon in tall] 
 Quickens the Poets Wits and Pen, 
 Despises Fate. 
 
 Ale, that the absent Battel fights 
 And forms the March of Swedish Drums, 
 Disputes the Princes Laws and Rights, 
 What's past and done tells mortall Wights, 
 And what's to come. 
 
 Ale, that the Plough-mans heart up keeps, 
 And equals it to Tyrants Thrones : 
 That wipes the eye that ever weeps, 
 And lulls in sweet and dainty sleeps 
 
 Their very bones. [weary 7 ] 
 
 Grandchild of Ceres, Bacchus Daughter, 
 Wines emulous Neighbour, if but stale : 
 Ennobling all the Nymphs of Water, 
 And filling each mans heart with laughter, 
 Oh give me Ale. 
 
 l 3 The 
 
1 66 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 The Rebellion. 
 
 NOw, thanks to the Powers below, 
 We have even done our do, 
 
 The Myter is down, and so is the C 
 
 And with them the Coronet too : 
 All is now the Peoples, and then 
 What is theirs is ours we know ; 
 
 There is no such thing as B or K— 
 
 Or Peer, but in name or show ; 
 
 Come Clowns, and come Boys, come Hoberde-hoys, 
 
 Come Females of each degree, 
 
 Stretch out your throats, bring in your Votes, 
 
 And make good the Anarchy ; 
 
 Then thus it shall be, saies Alse, 
 
 Nay, thus it shall be, saies Amie, 
 
 Nay, thus it shall go, saies Taffie, I trow, 
 
 Nay, thus it shall go, saies Jemmy, 
 
 Oh but the truth, good People all, the truth is such a 
 
 For it will undo both Church and State too, (thing, 
 
 And pull out the throat of our King : 
 
 No, nor the Spirit, nor the new Light 
 
 Can make the Point so clear, 
 
 But we must bring out the defil'd coat, 
 
 What thing the truth is, and where, 
 
 Speak 
 
Complete. 167, 
 
 Speak Abraham, speak Hester, 
 
 Speak yudith, speak Kester, 
 
 Speak tag and rag, short coat and long : 
 
 Truth is the spel that made us rebel, 
 
 And murder and plunder ding dong ; 
 
 Sure I have the truth, saies Numphs, 
 
 Nay, I have the truth, saies Clem, 
 
 Nay, I have the truth, saies reverend Ruth, 
 
 Nay, I have the truth, saies Nem. 
 
 Well, let the truth be whose it will, 
 
 There is something else is ours, 
 
 Yet this devotion in our Religion 
 
 May chance to abate our Powers : 
 
 Then let's agree on some new way, 
 
 It skills not much how true, 
 
 Take Pryn and his club, or Smec and his tub. 
 
 Or any Sect, old or new ; 
 
 The divel is in the pack if choice you can lack, 
 
 We are fourscore Religions strong, 
 
 Then take your choice, the Major voice 
 
 Shall carrot right or wrong • 
 
 Then let's have King Charles, saies George, 
 
 Nay, we'll have his son, saies Hugh ; 
 
 Nay, then let's have none, saies gabbering Jone, 
 
 Nay we'll be all Kings, saies Prue. 
 
 Nay, but neighbours and friends, one word more, 
 There's something else behind, 
 
 l 4 And 
 
1 68 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 And wise though you be, you do not well see 
 
 In which door sits the wind ; 
 
 And for Religion, to speak truth, 
 
 And in both Houses sence, 
 
 The matter is all one if any or none, 
 
 If it were not for the pretence ; 
 
 Now here doth lurk the key of the work, 
 
 And how to dispose of the Crown 
 
 Dexteriously, and as it may be 
 
 For your behalf and our own ; 
 
 Then we'll be of this, saies Meg, 
 
 Nay, we'll be of this, saies Tib, 
 
 Come, he'll be of all, saies pittifull Paul, 
 
 Nay, we'll be of none > saies Gib. 
 
 Oh we shall have, if we go one [on] 
 
 In Plunder, Excise, and Blood, 
 
 But few folks, and poor, to domineer o'er, 
 
 And that will not be so good ; 
 
 Then let's agree on some new way, 
 
 Some new and happy course, 
 
 The Country is grown sad, the City is Horn mad, 
 
 And both Houses are worse ; 
 
 The Sinod hath writ, the General hath shit, 
 
 And both to like purpose, for 
 
 Religion, Laws, the Truth, and the Cause 
 
 We talk on, but nothing we do ; 
 
 Come, then let's have peace, saies Nel, 
 
 No, no, but We won't, saies Meg, But 
 
Complete. 169 
 
 But I say we will, saies fiery-face Phil, 
 We will, and we won't, saies Hodge. 
 
 Thus from the rout who can expect 
 
 Ought but confusion, 
 
 Since true unity with good Monarchy 
 
 Begin and end in one? 
 
 If then when all is thought their own, 
 
 And lies at their belief, 
 
 These popular pates reap nought but debates 
 
 From these many round-headed beasts ; 
 
 Come Royallist[s,] then, do you play the men, 
 
 And Cavaliers give the word, 
 
 And now let's see what you will be 
 
 And whether you can accord ; 
 
 A health to King Charles, saies Tom, 
 
 Up with it, saies Ralph, like a man, 
 
 God bless him, saies Doll, and raise him, saies Moll, 
 
 And send him his own, saies Nan. 
 
 But now for these prudent Wights, 
 
 That sit without end, and to none, 
 
 And their Committees in Towns and Cities 
 
 Fill with confusion ; 
 
 For the bold Troopes of Sectaries, 
 
 The Scots and their Partakers, 
 
 Our new Brittish States, Col. Purges and his mates, 
 
 The Covenant and its makers : 
 
 For all these wee'll pray, and in such a way, 
 
 That 
 
170 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 That if it might granted be, 
 
 Both Jack and Gill, and Moll and Will, 
 
 And all the World will agree : 
 
 Else Pox take them all, saies Bess, 
 
 And a Plague too, saies Mary, 
 
 The devil, saies Dick, and his Dam too, saies Nick, 
 
 Amen and amen say we. 
 
 How to get a Child without 
 help of a Man. 
 
 A Maiden of late, whose name was sweet Kate, 
 Was dwelling in London, near to Aldersgate : 
 Now list to my Ditty, declare it I can, 
 
 She would have a Child without help of a man. 
 
 To a Doctor she came, a man of great fame, 
 Whose deep skill in Physick Report did proclaim, 
 I pray, master Doctor, shew me, if you can, 
 
 How I may conceive without help of a man. 
 
 Then listen, quoth he, since so it must be, (sently, 
 This wondrous strong medicine I'll shew you pre- 
 Take nine pound of thunder, six legs of a Swan, 
 And you shall conceive without help of a man. 
 
 The wooll of a Frog, the juyce of a Log, 
 Well parboyFd together in the skin of a hog, 
 
 With 
 
Complete. iji 
 
 With the egge of a Mooncalf, if get it you can, 
 
 And you shall conceive without help of a man. 
 
 The love of false Harlots, the Faith of false Varlets, 
 With the Truth of decoys, that walk in their Scarlet, 
 And the Feathers of a Lobster well fry'd in a pan, 
 And you shall conceive without help of a man. 
 
 Nine Drops of rain brought hither from Spain 
 With the blast of a Bellows quite over the main, 
 With eight quarts of brimstone, brew'd in a beer Can, 
 And you shall conceive without help of a man. 
 
 Six Pottles of Lard squeez'd from a Rock hard, 
 With nine Turkey Eggs, each as long as a Yard, 
 With a Pudding of hailstones bak'd well in a Pan, 
 And you shall conceive without help of a man. 
 
 These Medicines are good, and approved hath stood, 
 Well tempered together with a Pottle of blood, 
 Squeez'd from a Grashopper, and the naile of a Swan, 
 To make Maids conceive without help of a man. 
 
 A 
 
 Love's Fancy. 
 
 Fter the pains of a desperate Lover, 
 When day and night I had sighed all in vain, 
 
 Ah 
 
172 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 Ah what a pleasure it is to discover, 
 In her eyes pitty who causes my pain, 
 Chorus Ah what, &c. 
 
 When the denial comes fainter and fainter, 
 And her eyes gives what her tongue doth deny[,] 
 Ah what a trembling I feel when I venter, 
 Ah what a trembling does usher my Joy ! 
 Chor. Ah what, &c. 
 
 When with unkindness our Love at a stand is, 
 And both have punish'd our selves with the pain, 
 Ah What a pleasure the touch of her hand is ! 
 Ah what a pleasure to touch it again ! [press] 
 
 Chor. Ah what, &c. 
 
 When with a sigh she accords me the blessing 
 And her eyes twinkle 'twixt pleasure and pain, 
 Ah what a Joy ! oh beyond all expressing ! 
 Ah what a Joy to hear it [, Shall we] again ! 
 Chor. Ah what, &c. 
 
 Fortune's Favours distributed. 
 
 Blind Fortune, if thou want'st a Guide, 
 I'll tell thee how thou shalt divide : 
 Distribute unto each his due, 
 Justice is blind, and so are you. 
 
 To 
 
Complete. 173 
 
 To Usurers this doom impart : 
 
 May his Scriveners break, and then his heart, 
 
 May his Debtors unto Beggars fall 
 
 Or what is as bad, turn Courtiers all. 
 
 And unto Tradesmen, that sell dear, 
 
 A long vacation all the year, 
 
 Revenge us thus on their deceits, 
 
 And send them Wives light as their Weights. 
 
 But Fortune how wil't recompence 
 The French mans dayly insolence ? 
 For them I wish no greater pain, 
 Than to be sent to France again. 
 
 And lest thine Altar should want fire, 
 To Bridemens Votes grant their desire, 
 To Lovers, that will not believe 
 Their Sweet mistakes, thy blindness give. 
 
 And lest the Players should grow poor, 
 
 Send them Anglauris more and more, ["Ag/auras "] 
 
 And to the Puritan more eares, 
 
 Than Cealus in his Garland wears. [Ceres in her] 
 
 And to Physitians, if thou Please, 
 Send them another new Disease ; 
 To Scholars give if thou canst do't, 
 A Benefice without a suit. 
 
 Unto 
 
1 74 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Unto Court-Lords, Monopolies, 
 And to their Wives Communities ; 
 Thus, Fortune, thou canst please us all, 
 If Lords can rise, and Ladies fall. 
 
 And unto Lawyers, I beseech, 
 As much for silence as for speech ; 
 To Ladies Ushers, strength of back, 
 And unto me, a cup of Sack. 
 
 If these Instructions make thee wise, 
 Men shall restore again thy eyes : 
 By a new name thou shalt commence, 
 Not fortune call'd, but Providence. 
 
 A Letany. 
 
 FRom Mahomet, and Paganisme, 
 From Hereticks, and Sects and Schisme, 
 From high-way Rascals, and Cutpurses ; 
 From carted Bawds, Scolds, and dry Nurses, 
 From Glister-Pipes, and Doctors Whistles, 
 From begging Schollars stale Epistles, 
 From Turn-stile Boots, and Long lane Beavers, 
 From Agues, and from drunken Feavers, 
 Libera nos Domine. 
 
 From 
 
Complete. 1 7 5 
 
 From all several kind of Itches, 
 From Pantaloons, and Cloak-bag Breeches, 
 From Carbinadoed Sutes on Serges, [? of S] 
 
 From a Bastard that is the Clergies, 
 From thredden points, and Cap of Cruel, 
 From the danger of a Duel, 
 From a Tally full of Notches, 
 And from privy Seals of Botches, 
 Libera 110s Domine. 
 
 From a Whore that's never pleasant, 
 
 But in lusty Wine or Pheasant, 
 
 From the Watch at twelve a'clock, 
 
 And from Bess Broughtons button'd Smock. 
 
 From Hackney Coaches, and from Panders, 
 
 That do boast themselves Commanders, 
 
 From a Taylors tedious Bill, 
 
 And Pilgrimage up Holborn Hill, 
 
 Libera nos Domine. 
 
 From damages and restitutions, 
 
 From accursed Executions, 
 
 From all new-found waies of sinning, 
 
 From the scurf, and sables Linnen, 
 
 From the Pox, and the Physitian, 
 
 And from the Spanish Inquisition, 
 
 From a Wife that's wan and meager, 
 
 And from Lice and Winters Leaguer, 
 
 Libera nos Domine. 
 
 From 
 
I J 6 Merry Drollery, 
 
 From a griping slavish Cullion, 
 From the Gout, and the Strangullion, 
 From a Mountibanks Potion, 
 From his scarrings and his Lotion, 
 From the Buttocks of Prisilla, 
 That diers so with Sarsapherilla, 
 From a Lecture to the Zealous, 
 And from the Tub of old Cornelius, 
 Libera nos Domine. 
 
 From bawdy Courts, and Civil Doctors, 
 From drunken Sumners and their Proctors, 
 From occasions for to revel 
 With a Lawyer at the Divel, 
 From Serjeants, Yeomen, and their Maces [,] 
 And from false friends with double faces, 
 From an enemy More mighty 
 Than Usquebaugh or Aqua vitae, 
 
 Libera nos Domine. 
 
 Penance. 
 
 GOD bless my good Lord Bishop, 
 And send him long to raign, 
 In health, wealth, and prosperity, 
 True justice to maintain, 
 He beats down sin in every place, 
 Poor Wenches dare not do 
 
 Lest 
 
Complete. 177 
 
 Lest they do Penance in a sheet 
 And pay their money too. 
 
 Down lately in a Garden 
 It was my chance to walk, 
 Where I heard two Sisters 
 That secretly did talk 
 Quoth the Younger to the Elder, 
 In faith I dare not do, 
 Lest I do Penance in a sheet, 
 And pay my money too. 
 
 Then quoth the Eldest Sister, 
 You are not of my mind, 
 For if I meet a proper Lad 
 That will to me prove kind, 
 In faith, quoth she, I will not care 
 To take a turn or two, 
 Though I do Penance in a sheet, 
 And pay my money too. 
 
 But here's the thing that vexes me, 
 And troubles much my brain, 
 If a poor man chance to get a child, 
 And cannot it maintain, 
 He must be censur'd by the Law 
 As Justice doth afford 
 He must be stript, and then be whipt, 
 And brought before my Lord. 
 
 m And 
 
178 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 And when he comes before my Loro% 
 And hath no ready Tale, 
 His Mittimus is straight-waies made, 
 And sent unto the Jayle, 
 And there he must remaine 
 The space of half a year, 
 If every Wench were served so 
 Then kissing would be dear. 
 
 On Good Canary. 
 
 OF all the rare juices 
 That Bacchus or Ceres produces, 
 There's none that I can nor dare I 
 Compare with the Princely Canary ; 
 For this is the thing 
 That a fancy infuses, 
 
 This first got a K 
 
 And next the nine Muses. 
 Twas this made old Poets so sprightly to sing 
 
 And fill all the world with glory and fame on't ; 
 They Hellicon call'd it and the Thispian spring, 
 But this was the drink though they knew not the 
 
 (name on't. 
 2 
 Our Sider and Perry 
 Make a man mad but not merry, 
 
 It makes the people Wind-mill pated, 
 And with crackers sophisticated, 
 
 And 
 
Complete. 179 
 
 And your Hops, yest, and Malt, 
 When they're mingled together 
 
 Makes your fancies to halt, 
 Or reeke any whither. [reel] 
 
 It stuffs our Braines with Froth and with Yest ; 
 
 That if one would write but a verse for a Bellma?i, 
 He must study till Christmas for an Eight Shilling 'Jest 
 These liquors won't raise but drown & o're- 
 
 (whelm man. 
 3 
 Our drowsy Metheglin 
 Was only ordain'd to enveigle in 
 
 The Novice that knows not to drink yet • 
 But is fuddled before he can think it, 
 
 And your Clarret and White 
 Have a Gunpowder fury ; 
 
 They're of the French spright, 
 
 But they won't long endure you : 
 
 And your Holliday Muscadine Allagant and Tent. 
 
 Have only this property and virtue that's fit in't 
 
 They'l make a man sleep till a Preachment be spent, 
 
 But we neither can warm our blood or our wit 
 
 (in't. 
 4 
 The Bagrag and Rhenish 
 You must with Ingredients Replenish, 
 
 Its a wine to please Ladies & Toys with 
 But not for a man to rejoice with : 
 But its Sack makes the sport 
 And who gaines but the Flavour 
 Though an Abbesse he court ' 
 
 M 2 In 
 
i8o Merry Drollerie, 
 
 In his high shooes he'll have her : 
 It's this that advances the Drinker and Drawer, 
 
 Though his father come to Town in Hobnailes & 
 He turns it to Velvet & brings up an Heir, (Leather ; 
 In the Town in his Chain, in the field, with his 
 
 (Feather. 
 
 Loves Lunatick. 
 
 HEard you not lately of a man 
 That ran beside his wits, 
 And naked through the City ran. 
 Wrapt in his frantick fits. 
 
 My honest Neighbours it is I, 
 
 See how the people flout me ; 
 
 See where the mad man comes, they cry, 
 
 With all the Boys about me. 
 
 Tom Bedlam was a Sage to me, 
 I speak in sober-sadness, 
 For more strange Visions did I see 
 Than Tom in all his madness. 
 
 When first into this rage I hopt 
 About the Market walkt I, 
 With Capons Feathers in my Cap, 
 Unto my self thus talkt I : 
 
 Saw 
 
Complete. 1 8 1 
 
 Saw you not Angels in her face, 
 Each eye a Star out-darting ? 
 Heard you not Musick from her voyce, 
 Her Lips all joy imparting ? 
 
 Is not her hair more pure than Gold, 
 Or Web of Spiders spinning ? 
 Methinks in her I do behold 
 My joyes and woes beginning. 
 
 Methinks I see her in a Cloud, 
 The Planets round about her, 
 I call'd and cr/d to them aloud, 
 I cannot live without her. 
 
 The Bracelets which I wore of late, 
 Inrich'd with Pearls and Gold, 
 Are turn'd now to Iron Chains, 
 Which keep my Pulses cold. 
 
 I mused thus unto my self, 
 Each word with gesture acted : 
 The people cry'd, O look poor elfe, 
 See how the man's distracted. 
 
 I was a poor and harmless Wight 
 
 Till roguish Cupid caught me, 
 
 And till his Mother with her flight [? slight] 
 
 Into this pickle brought me. 
 
 m 3 At 
 
1 82 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 At which my friends they were not glad, 
 Pray Jove your Wits to cherish, 
 For once I was as proper a Lad 
 As was in all the Parish. 
 
 But whipt and stript I now must be. 
 Intangled now in Chains, 
 And for my love, you all may see, 
 I have this for my pains. 
 
 To Stable-straw I must go, 
 My time in Bedlam spending : 
 Good folk, you your beginning see, 
 But do not know your ending. 
 
 The new Medly of the Country man, 
 
 Citizen, and Souldier. 
 
 (shire 
 
 FRom what-you-call't Town in what-call-you't 
 To London Cham come, what fine Volk are here ? 
 Sure thick is the place, itch smell the good chear. 
 Che'le knock at the Yate, then what ho : God be here. 
 What are you Sir ? 
 
 Cham a West Country man Zur. 
 
 Good Bumkin forbear, 
 
 Such hopnails as you are do seldom come here. 
 
 Cods sooks, here's a Vellow wo'd make a man zwear[.] 
 
 Cham come to tell, Sir, with Master Lord Maior. 
 
 What 
 
Complete. 183 
 
 What to do Sir ? 
 To see his fine Doublet, his Chain, and his Ruff, 
 His Beaver, his Gown, and such finical stuff; 
 And what do you think of a kick or a cuff ? 
 If my whip will but last, i' faith 'chil give thee enough, 
 
 And well laid on. 
 Hold, hold, prethee Countriman be not so hot. 
 Che have a huge mind to lay a long lace on thy coat. 
 Prethee tell me thy name & my L. Maior shall know 
 My name is Tom Hoyden, what saiest thou to that ? (it 
 
 Tom Hoyden ! 
 
 Then Tom Hoyden pack hence to Croyden, 
 
 The Country is fitter for thee. 
 
 Though you abhor us, and care not for us, 
 
 Without us you cannot be. 
 
 We can live without you and your Rustick coat, [.] 
 
 Did we not Vittle your House, 
 
 My Lady Maries, with all her Baries, 
 
 Would shite as small as a Lowse. 
 
 We have money. And we have honey. 
 
 And we have the Silver and Gold. 
 
 We have fuel. 
 
 And we have Jewels. 
 
 And we have Sheep in the Fold 
 
 We have silk enough. 
 
 And we have milk enough. 
 
 But we have the Treasure untold ; 
 
 m 4 We 
 
184 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 We have means, and ease. 
 But we have Beans and Pease, 
 
 And Bacon, hold belly, hold. 
 
 We have Purses, and we have Horses. 
 
 And we have Powder and shot. 
 
 We have Pullets. 
 
 And we have Bullets. 
 
 And we have Spirits as hot. 
 
 We have Honours, and we have Mannors, 
 
 But we are walled about. 
 
 But when we begin 
 
 To keep our Cattle in, 
 
 In faith, you'll quickly come out. 
 
 We have Gallies. 
 
 And we have Vallies. 
 
 And we have Canons of brass ; 
 
 We have Feathers. 
 
 And we have Weathers 
 
 On Mountains matted with grass. 
 
 We have Wine, and Spice, Sugar, Fruit, and Rice. 
 
 But we have good Barley and Wheat : 
 
 And, were we put to it, can better live without 
 
 Money, than you without Meat. 
 
 Cho. Then since 'tis so that we cannot be 
 
 Without one another 
 
 Let us two agree 
 
 May 
 
Complete. 185 
 
 May the Country prove fruitful, 
 
 And City be free 
 
 No Climate in Europe so happy as we. 
 
 Sol. He that would be made by a Souldiers Trade. 
 
 Let him be encouraged by me, 
 
 For never did any men gain by the Blade 
 
 As we have since forty three. 
 
 What Fellow is that ? why, it seems a Souldate ; 
 Good morrow, good morrow to thee : 
 Why how now my friends, all for your ends, 
 Will you make up a peace without me ? 
 
 You know in a word the power of the Sword, 
 A Canon may conquer a King : 
 But a sharp Sword will make a Scepter to shake ; 
 Faith you have the World in a sling. 
 
 Compare the whole Land to the parts of a man, 
 The Country's the Legs and the Toes, 
 And without a riddle the City is the middle, 
 But the Souldier is the head and the Nose. 
 
 Though now we wear Blades, 
 
 We once were of Trades, 
 
 And shall be whilst Trading endures : 
 
 Our Officers are, although men of war, 
 
 Some 
 
1 86 Merry Drollerie; 
 
 Some Goldsmiths, some Drapers, 
 And Brewers. 
 
 Do you get increase, we'll guard you with peace, 
 The Sword shall not come where the Axe is, 
 We'll take off your cares : we'll take off your fears : 
 But when will you take of [f] our Taxes ? 
 
 We kept Spaniards from you, 
 
 That would overcome yee, 
 
 Whilst you do plough, harrow and thresh, (bone 
 
 The Frenchman is our own, What is bred in the 
 
 Will hardly get out of the flesh. 
 
 We quarter in Villages, Cities and Towns, 
 And sometimes we lie in the Fields. 
 But if from your Colours you offer to run, 
 Then you must be laid neck and heels. 
 
 Through Countries we march, & for enemies search, 
 And command all things in Bravadoes. 
 But oh, my good friend, if you do offend, 
 I'm sure you must have the Strappadoes. 
 
 When, Sir, the City still shall fit you 
 
 With what you do deserve, 
 
 The Country Cowman and the ploughman 
 
 Will not let you starve : 
 
 With 
 
Complete. 187 
 
 With Buff and Beaver we will ever 
 Bless the back and head. 
 
 We will give thee mony enough, and Ammunition, 
 
 And seal to this condition. And so do I introth. 
 
 And I will spend my bloud Sir. 
 
 And I will spend my Treasure 
 
 To do the Souldier pleasure. 
 
 Why, now I thank you both. 
 
 (Court 
 
 Cho. Let the City, the Country, the Camp and the 
 
 Be the places of pleasure and Royal resort, 
 
 And let us observe in the midst of our sport, 
 
 That Fidelity makes us as firm as a Fort : 
 
 A Union well-grounded no malice can hurt. 
 
 [This ends Part First, in the Edition of Merry Drollery, 1661.] 
 
 The Indifferent Lover. 
 
 NO man Love's fiery passions can approve, 
 As either yielding pleasure or promotion : 
 I like a mild and lukewarm zeal in love, 
 Although I do not like it in devotion : 
 
 For it hath no coherence with my Creed, 
 To think that lovers mean as they pretend : 
 If all that said they died, had died indeed, 
 Sure long ere this the World had had an end. 
 
 Some 
 
1 88 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 Some one perhaps of long Consumption dried, 
 And after falling into love might dye, 
 But I dare swear he never yet had died 
 Had he been half so sound at heart as I. 
 
 Another, rather than incur the slander 
 Of true Apostate, will false Martyr prove ; 
 I'll neither Orpheus be, nor yet Leander, 
 I'll neither hang nor drown my self for love. 
 
 Yet I have been a Lover by report, 
 And I have died for Love as others do, 
 Prais'd be Great yove I died in such a sort, 
 As I revived within an hour or two. 
 
 Thus have I liv'd, thus have I lov'd, till now, 
 And ne'r had reason to repent me yet, 
 And whosoever otherwise shall do, 
 His courage is as little as his wit. 
 
 Loves Torment. 
 
 WHen blind God Cupid, all in an angry mood, 
 And Cythera, the fairest Queen of Love, 
 Did leave Sylvanus pleasant shadowed woods, 
 And mounted up into the Heavens above, 
 Even then when Sol, 
 Even then when Sol 
 
 In 
 
Complete. 1 89 
 
 In water set his bed, 
 
 Did seek to hide, 
 
 Did seek to hide 
 His golden shining head. 
 
 Like Philomel, all in a doleful wise, 
 I pass the silent coloured night in woe ; 
 No rest nor sleep can seize upon my eyes, 
 Oh cruel beauty that did torment me so ! 
 
 No one can tell, 
 
 No one can tell 
 How I in sorrows dwelt, 
 
 Save only she, 
 
 Save only she 
 That hath like Passions felt. 
 
 The night is past all, and Aurora red 
 Begins to show her ruby-coloured face, 
 Leaving Old Tytan and his aged head, 
 The cloudy darkness from the skies to chase ; 
 
 Ah my poor heart, 
 
 Ah my poor heart 
 In flames of fire doth fry ; 
 
 I live in love, 
 
 I love and live, 
 I live, and yet I dye. 
 
 Each pretty little bird injoys his Mate, 
 And gently billing sits upon a Tree, 
 
 And 
 
190 Merry Drollery \ 
 
 And on the Verdant shadowed woods do prate, 
 Chirping their Notes with pleasant Harmony ; 
 I wish my Love, 
 I wish my Love 
 My pretty bird may be 
 To ease my grief, 
 To ease my grief 
 And cure my malady. 
 
 The Rebel Red-coat. 
 
 COme Drawer, come fill us about more wine, 
 Let us merrily tipple, the day is our own, 
 We'll have our delights, let the Country go pine, 
 
 Let the King and the Kingdom groan : 
 For the day is our own, and so shall continue, 
 
 Whilst Monarchy we baffle quite, 
 We'll spend all the Kingdoms Revenue, 
 
 And sacrifice all to delight : 
 *Tis power that brings us all to be Kings, 
 
 And we'll be all crown'd by our might. 
 
 A fig for Divinity, Lecture and Law 
 
 And all that to Royalty do pretend, [Loyalty] 
 We will by our Swords keep the kingdoms in aw, 
 
 And our power shall never have end : 
 The Church and the State we'll turn into liquor, 
 
 And spend a whole town in a day, 
 
 We'l 
 
Complete, 191 
 
 We'll melt all their Bodkins the quicker 
 
 Into Sack, and so drink them away, 
 We'll spend the demeans o' th' Bishops & Deans, 
 
 And over the Presbyter sway. 
 
 The nimble St. Patrick is sunk in a bog, 
 
 And his Country-men sadly cry, Oh hone, Oh hone, 
 St. Andrew and 's kirk-men are lost in a fog, 
 
 And we are the Saints alone : 
 Thus on our superiours and equals we trample, 
 
 Whilst Jockie the stirrop shall hold, 
 The Citie's our Mule for example, 
 
 While we thus in plenty are roll'd, 
 Each delicate Dish shall but answer our wish, 
 
 And our drink shall be cordial Gold. 
 
 Love lies a bleeding: In Imitation of 
 Law lies a bleeding. 
 
 LAy by your pleading, 
 Love lies a bleeding, 
 Burn all your Poetry, and throw away your reading, 
 Piety is painted, 
 And Truth is tainted, 
 Love is a reprobate, and Schism now is Sainted, 
 The Throne Love doth sit on, 
 
 We dayly do spit on, 
 
 It 
 
192 Merry D r oiler ie, 
 
 It was not thus I wis, when Betty rul'd in Britain, 
 
 But friendship hath faultred, 
 
 Loves Altars are altered, (tred. 
 
 And he that is the cause, I would his neck w r ere hal- 
 
 When Love did nourish 
 
 England did flourish, 
 Till holy hate came in and made us all so currish. 
 
 Now every Widgeon 
 
 Talks of Religion, 
 And doth as little good as Mahomet and his Pidgeon. 
 
 Each coxcombe is suiting 
 
 His words for confuting, (puting. 
 
 But heaven is sooner gain'd by suffering than by dis- 
 
 True friendship we smother, 
 
 And strike at our Brother [:] 
 
 Apostles never went to God by killing one another. 
 
 Let Love but warm ye 
 
 Nothing can harm ye, 
 When Love is General, there's Angels in the Army. 
 
 Love keeps his quarters, 
 
 And fears no tortures, (tyrs. 
 
 The bravest fights are written in the Book of Mar- 
 Could we be so civill 
 
 As to do good for evill 
 It were the only happy way to o'recome the divel. 
 
 The Flowers Love hath watred, 
 
 Sedition 
 
Complete. 193 
 
 Sedition hath scattred, (of hatred. 
 
 We talk with tongues of holiness, but act with hearts 
 
 He that doth know me, 
 
 And love will shew me, 
 Hath found the nearest noble way to overcome me. 
 
 He that hath bound me, 
 
 And then doth wound me, (me. 
 
 Wins not my heart, doth not conquer, but confound 
 
 In such a condition 
 
 Love is the physitian, 
 True Love and Reason makes the purest politician. 
 
 But strife and confusion, 
 
 Deceit and delusion, 
 Though it seem to thrive at first will make a sad 
 
 (conclusion. 
 
 Love is a fewel, 
 
 A pretious Jewel, (the duel. 
 
 Tis Love must stanch the blood when Fury fights 
 
 Love is a loadstone, 
 
 Hate is a bloodstone, (stone. 
 
 Heaven is the North Point, and Love is the Load- 
 Though fury and scorn 
 
 Loves Temples have torn, 
 He'll keep his Covenant, and will not be forsworn. 
 
 His Laws do not border 
 
 On strife and disorder, 
 He scorns to get his wealth by perjury and murder. 
 n What 
 
194 Merry Dr oiler ie y 
 
 What falshood drew in, 
 
 Grace never grew in, 
 Love will not raise him upon anothers mine. 
 
 He can present ye 
 
 With peace and plenty, (twenty. 
 
 Love never advanceth one by throwing down of 
 
 Where Love is in season, 
 
 There Truth is and Reason, 
 The soul of Love is never underlaid with Treason. 
 
 He never doth quarrel 
 
 For Princely apparrel, 
 Nor ever fixed a chair of state upon a barrel. 
 
 Love from the dull pit 
 
 Of Follies full pit 
 Never took an Anvil out, and put it in a pulpit. 
 
 Love is no sinker, 
 
 Truth is -no slinker, 
 In mending breaches Love did never play the tinker. 
 
 Where Vengeance and Lust is, 
 
 No truth nor trust is, 
 As will appear at last in Gods high Court of Justice. 
 
 Pity and remorse is 
 
 The strength of Loves Forces, 
 Paul never converted men by stables nll'd with 
 
 (horses. 
 
 Mercy is fading, 
 
 Truth is degrading, 
 Love is the only cause of Plenty, Peace, & Trading. 
 
 Love 
 
Complete. 195 
 
 Love is a fire 
 
 Made of desire, 
 Whose chief Ambition is to heaven to aspire. 
 
 It stops the gradation 
 
 Of fury and passion, (Nation. 
 
 It governs all good Families, and best can guide a 
 
 The Low Land, the high Land, 
 
 And my Land, and thy Land, 
 Grew all in common straight when Love had left 
 
 (this Island. 
 
 Where peace is panting, 
 
 And rage is ranting, 
 Tis an undoubted sign the King of Love is wanting. 
 
 Father and Mother, 
 
 Sister and Brother, 
 If Love be lacking, quickly mischief one another. 
 
 Where wrath is, the rod is 
 
 That mines our bodies ; 
 With hate the divel is, but where Love is God is. 
 
 Then let us not doubt it, 
 
 But streight go about it, 
 To bring in Love again, we. cannot live without it. 
 
 Then let the Graces 
 
 Crown our embraces, 
 And let us settle all things in their proper places. 
 
 Lest persecution 
 
 Cause dissolution, 
 Let all purloyned wealth be made a restitution. 
 
 n 2 For 
 
196 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 For though now it tickles, 
 
 'Twill turn all to prickles, (sickles. 
 
 Then let's live in peace, and turn our Swords to 
 
 When NoaKs Dove was sent out, 
 
 Then Gods Pardon went out, (it. 
 
 They that would have it so, I hope will say Amen to 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 BRing forth your Cunny skins, fair maids, to me, 
 And hold them fair that I may see 
 Gray, Black, and blew ; for your smaller skins 
 I'll give you Glasses, Laces, Pins : 
 And for your whole Cunny 
 I'll give you ready money. 
 
 Come, gentle Jone, do thou begin 
 With thy black, black, black Cunny skin, 
 And Mary then, and Kate will follow 
 With their silver'd-hair'd skins, and their yellow ; 
 Your white Cunny skin I will not lay by, 
 Though it be fat, it is [not] fair to the Eye. 
 
 Your gray it is warm, but for my money 
 
 Give me the bonny, bonny black Coney; 
 
 Come away, fair maids, your skins will decay, 
 
 Come and take money, maids, put your ware away; 
 
 I have fine Bracelets, Rings, 
 
 And I have silver Pins ; 
 
 Coney 
 
Complete, 197 
 
 Coney skins, Coney skins, 
 Maids, have you any Coney skins. 
 
 A Catch of the Beggars. 
 
 FRom hunger and cold who lives more free, 
 Or who lives a merrier life than we ; 
 Our bellies are full, and our backs are warm, 
 And against all Pride our Rags are a Charm ; 
 Enough is a feast, and for to morrow 
 Let rich men care, we feel no sorrow. 
 
 The City, and Town, and every village 
 
 Afford us [either] an Alms, or a Pillage ; 
 
 And if the weather be cold and raw, 
 
 Then in a Barn we tumble in straw : 
 
 If fair and warm, in yea-Cock and nay-Cock 
 The Fields afford us a hedge or a hey-Cock. 
 
 The Time-server, 
 
 ROom for a Gamester that plaies at all he sees, 
 Whose fickle fancy fits such times as these, 
 One that saies Amen to every factious prayer, 
 
 From Hugh Peters Pulpit to S. Peters Chair, 
 One that doth defie the Crosier and the Crown, 
 But yet can bouze with Blades that Carrouze 
 
 n 3 Whilst 
 
ig8 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Whilst Pottle-pots tumble down, dery down ; 
 One that can comply with Surplice and with Cloak, 
 Yet for his end can I depend, [Independ] 
 
 Whilst Presbyterian broke Britains yoke. 
 
 This is the way to trample without trembling, 
 
 Tis the Sycophant's only secure, 
 Covenants and Oaths are badges of dissembling, 
 
 'Tis the politick pulls down the pure : 
 To Profess and betray, to plunder and pray, 
 Is the only ready way to be great, 
 
 Flattery doth the feat : 
 Ne'r go, ne'r stir, will venter further 
 Than the greatest Dons in the Town, 
 
 From a Copper to a Crown. 
 
 I am in a temp'rate humour now to think well, 
 Now I'm in another for to drink well, 
 Then fill us up a Beer-boul boys, that we 
 
 May drink it merrily, 
 No knavish Spy shall understand, 
 For if it should be known, 
 
 'Tis ten to one we shall be trapan'd. 
 
 I'll drink to thee a brace of quarts, 
 Whose Anagram is call'd True Hearts, 
 If all were well as I would ha't, 
 And Britain cur'd of its tumour, 
 
Complete. 199 
 
 I should very well like my Fate, 
 And drink my Sack at a cheaper rate, 
 
 Without any noise or rumour, 
 
 Oh then I should fix my humour. 
 
 But since 'tis no such matter, change your hue, 
 
 I may cog and flatter, so may you : 
 
 Religion is a Widgeon, and Reason is a Treason, 
 
 And he that hath a Loyal heart may bid the world 
 
 (adieu. 
 We must be like the Scottish man, 
 
 Who with intent to beat down Schism, 
 Brought in the Presbyterian, 
 
 With Canon and with Catechism : 
 If Beuk won't do't, then Jockey shoot, 
 
 For the Kirk of Scotland doth command, 
 And what hath been, since they came in, 
 
 I think w' have cause to understand. 
 
 A Song. 
 
 GAther your Rose-buds while you may, 
 Old time is still a flying, 
 For that Flower that smells to day, 
 To morrow will be dying. 
 
 That Age is best, which if she force [is the first,] 
 While youth and blood are warmer, 
 
 n 4 But 
 
200 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 But being [spent] she grows worse and worse, 
 And [Times] still succeeds the former. 
 
 The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun, 
 The higher he's a getting, 
 The sooner will his race be Run, 
 And nearer to his setting. 
 
 Then be not coy, but use your time, 
 And while you may, go marry, 
 For if you lose but once your prime 
 You may for ever tarry. 
 
 The Gelding of the DiveL 
 
 A Story strange I will you tell 
 Of the gelding of the Divel of hell, 
 And of the Baker of Mansfield Town, 
 That sold his bread both white and brown ; 
 To Nottingham Market he was bound, 
 And riding under the Willows clear 
 The Baker sung with a merry chear. 
 
 The Bakers horse was lusty and sound, 
 And worth in Judgement full five pound \ 
 His skin was smooth, and his flesh was fat, 
 His Master was well pleas'd with that, 
 Which made him sing so merry, merrily 
 As he was passing on the way. 
 
 But 
 
Complete, 201 
 
 But as he rode over the hill 
 There met him two divels of hell : 
 
 Baker, Baker, then cry'd he, 
 How comes thy horse so fat to be ? 
 These be the words the Baker did say, 
 Because his stones are cut away. 
 
 Then, quoth the divel, if it be so, 
 Thou shalt geld me before thou dost go 
 First tye thy horse to yonder tree, 
 And with thy knife come and geld me ; 
 The Baker he had a knife for the nonce 
 Wherewith to cut out the devils stones. 
 
 The Baker, as it came to pass, 
 In haste alighted from his horse, 
 And the divel on his back he lay, 
 While the Baker cut his stones away, 
 Which put the divel to great pain 
 And made him to cry out amain. 
 
 O, quoth the divel, beshrew thy heart, 
 Thou dost not feel how I do smart, 
 And for the deed that thou hast done 
 
 1 will revenged be agen, 
 
 And underneath this Green-wood tree 
 Next Market day I will geld thee. 
 
 The 
 
202 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 The Baker then but a little said, 
 But at his heart was sore afraid \ 
 He durst no longer then to stay, 
 But he rode hence another way : 
 And coming to his Wife, did tell 
 How he had gelt the divel of hell. 
 
 Moreover to his Wife he told 
 
 A tale that made her heart full cold, 
 
 How that the divel to him did say, 
 
 That he would geld him next Market day : 
 
 O, quoth the good wife, without doubt 
 
 I had rather both thy eyes were out. 
 
 For then all the people far and near, 
 That know thee, will but mock and jeer, 
 And good-wives they will scold and brawl, 
 And stoneless Gelding will thee call ; 
 Then hold content, and be thou wise, 
 And I'll some pretty trick devise. 
 
 I'll make the divel change his note, 
 Give me thy Hat, thy Band, and Coat, 
 Thy Hose and Doublet eke also, 
 And I like to a man will go ; 
 I'll warrant thee next Market day 
 To fright the divel clean away. 
 
 When 
 
Complete. 203 
 
 When the Bakers wife was so drest, 
 With all her bread upon her beast, 
 To Nottingham Market, that brave Town, 
 To sell her bread, both white and brown, 
 And riding merrily over the hill, 
 
 there she spy'd the two divels of hell. 
 
 A little divel, and another, 
 As they were playing both together ; 
 Oh ho, quoth the divel, right fain, 
 Here comes the Baker riding amain : 
 Now be thou well, or be thou woe, 
 
 1 will geld thee before thou dost go. 
 
 The Bakers wife to the divel did say, 
 Sir, I was gelded yesterday : 
 O, quoth the divel, I mean to see \ 
 And pulling her coats above her knee, 
 And so looking upward from the ground, 
 O there he spy'd a terrible wound. 
 
 O, quoth the divel, now I see 
 That he was not cunning that gelded thee, 
 For when that he had cut out the stones, 
 He should have closed up the wounds, 
 But if thou wilt stay but a little space 
 I'll fetch some salve to cure the place. 
 
 He 
 
204 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 He had not ran but a little way, 
 
 But up her belly crept a Flea : 
 
 The little divel seeing that, 
 
 He up with his paw and gave her a pat, 
 
 Which made the good wife for to start, 
 
 And with that she let go a rowzing fart. 
 
 O, quoth the divel, thy life is not long 
 Thy breath it smells so horrible strong, 
 Therefore go thy way, and make thy will, 
 Thy wounds are past all humane skill • 
 Be gone, be gone, make no delay, 
 For here thou shalt no longer stay. 
 
 The good wife with this news was glad, 
 But she left the divel almost mad ; 
 And when she to her husband came, 
 With a joyful heart she told the same, 
 How she had couzned the divel of hell, 
 Which pleas'd her Husband wondrous well. 
 
 The Vagabond, 
 
 I Am a Rogue, and a stout one, 
 A most couragious drinker : 
 I do excell, it's known full well, 
 The Ratter, Tom, or Tinker: 
 
 Then 
 
Complete. 205 
 
 Then do I cry, Good your Worship 
 Bestow some small Denier a, 
 And bravely then at the bouking Ken 
 I'll bouze it all in beera. 
 
 My dainty Dames and Doxes, 
 When that they see [me] lacking, 
 Without delay, poor wretches, they 
 Will send the Duds a packing : 
 Then do I cry, 6°<r. 
 
 Ten miles into a Market 
 I go to meet a Miser, 
 And in the throng I'll nip a bung, 
 And the party ne'r the wiser : 
 Then do I cry, &>c. 
 
 If the Centry be coming, 
 Then streight it is my fashion, 
 My leg I'll tye close to my thigh 
 To move them to compassion : 
 Then do I cry, &*c. 
 
 When I hear a Coach come rumbling, 
 To my Crutches streight I hye me, 
 For being lame, it is a shame 
 Such Gallants should deny me ; 
 Then do I cry, &>c. 
 
 My 
 
206 Merry Drollery, 
 
 My Peg in a string doth lead me 
 When I go into the Town, Sir, 
 For to the blind all men are kind, 
 And with [? will] their Alms bestow, Sir ; 
 Then do I cry, &>e. 
 
 V th' winter time stark naked 
 I go into some City, 
 And every man, that spare them can, 
 Will give me cloaths for pity \ 
 Then do I cry, &*c. 
 
 My doublet sleeves hang empty, 
 And for to beg the bolder, 
 For meat and drink my arm I'll shrink 
 Up close unto my shoulder, 
 Then do I cry, &>e. 
 
 If any gives me lodging 
 A courteous knave they find me, 
 For in my bed, alive, or dead, 
 I leave some Lice behind me ; 
 Then do I cry, &*c. 
 
 If from out the Low Countries 
 I hear a Captains name, Sir, 
 Then straight I'll swear I have been there, 
 And so in fight came lame Sir ; 
 Then do I cry, &e. 
 
 In 
 
Complete. 207 
 
 In Pauls Church-yard by a Piller 
 Sometimes you see me stand, Sir, 
 With a writ that shews what cares, what woes 
 I have past by Sea and Land, Sir ; 
 Then do I cry, &*c. 
 
 Come buy, come buy a Horn-book, 
 Who buys my Pins and Needles : 
 Such things do I in the City cry 
 Oftimes to scape the Beadles ; 
 Then do I cry, &c. 
 
 Then blame me not for begging, 
 And boasting all alone, Sir, 
 My self I will be praising still, 
 For Neighbours I have none, Sir ; 
 Then do I cry, &>c. 
 
 The Jovial Loyallist. 
 
 STay, shut the Gate, 
 T'other quart, 'faith 'tis not so late 
 As your thinking, 
 The Stars which you see in the Hemisphere be, 
 Are but studs in our cheeks by good drinking ; 
 The Sun's gone to tipple all night in the Sea boys, 
 To morrow he'll blush that he's paler than we boys, 
 Drink wine, give him water, 'tis Sack makes us the 
 
 (boys. 
 Fill 
 
208 Merry Drollerie, 
 
 Fill up the Glass, 
 To the next merry Lad let it pass, 
 
 Come away with't : 
 Let's set foot to foot, and but give our minds to't, 
 Tis heretical Six that doth slay wit : 
 Then hang up good faces, let's drink till our noses 
 Give freedom to speak what our fancy disposes, 
 Beneath whose protection, now under the rose is. 
 
 Drink off your Bowl, 
 'Twill enrich both your head and your soul 
 
 With Canary ; 
 
 For a carbuncl'd face saves a tedious race, 
 
 And the Indies above us we carry : 
 
 No Helicon like to the juice of good wine is, 
 
 For Phoebus had never had wit that divine is, 
 
 Had his face not been bow-dy'd as thine is, & mine 
 
 (is. 
 
 This must go round, 
 Off with your hats till the pavement be crown'd 
 
 With your Bevers. 
 A Red-coated face frights a Sergeant and his Mace, 
 Whilst the Constable trembles to shivers, 
 In state march our faces like some of the quorum. 
 While the whores do fall down, & the vulgar adore 
 
 'urn, 
 And our noses like Link-boys run shining before 
 'urn. 
 
 Merry 
 
209 
 
 MERRY 
 
 DROLLERY, 
 
 Complete. 
 
 OR, 
 
 A COLLECTION 
 
 ! Jovial Poems, 
 Merry Songs, 
 Witty Drolleries, 
 
 Intermixed with Pleasant Catches. 
 
 The Second Part. 
 
 j o The 
 
2 1 o The Second Part of 
 
 The Answer. • 
 
 H01d ? quaff no more, 
 But restore, 
 If you can, [what] you've lost by your drinking,, 
 Three Kingdoms and Crowns, 
 With their cities and Towns, 
 While the King and his Progeny is sinking ; 
 The studs in your cheeks have obscur'd his star, boys, 
 Your drink and miscarriages in the late war, boys 
 Hath brought his Prerogative thus to the Bar, boys, 
 
 Throw down the Glass, 
 He's an ass 
 That extracts all his worth from Canary : 
 That valour will shrink, 
 Which is only good in drink, 
 Twas the Cup made the Camp to miscarry. 
 Ye thought in the world there was no power could 
 
 tame ye, 
 Ye tipled and whor'd till the Foe overcame ye, 
 Cuds-nigs and ne'r-stir Sir, hath vanquisht God- 
 dam : me. 
 
 Fly from the coast, 
 
 Or y y are lost, 
 
 And the water will run where the drink went, 
 
 From 
 
Merry Drollery, Complete. 2 1 1 
 
 From hence you must slink, 
 
 If you swear and have no chink, 
 Tis the curse of a Royal Delinquent. [? course] 
 Ye love to see Beer bowls turn'd over the thumb 
 
 Well, 
 Ye love three fair Gamesters, four Dice and a Drum 
 
 Well, 
 But you'd as live see the divel as Oliver CromweL 
 
 Drink not the round, 
 You'll be drown'd 
 In the source of your Sack and your Sonnets, 
 Try once more your Fate 
 For the Kirk against the State, [? King] 
 
 And go barter your Bever for Bonnets : 
 I see how you'r charm'd by your female inchanters, 
 And therefore pack hence to Virginia for planters, 
 For an act and two red-coats will rout all the Ran- 
 ters. 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 Had she not care enough, care enough, 
 Care enough of the old man ? 
 She wed him, she fed him, 
 And to the bed she led him ; 
 For seven long winters she lifted him on : 
 But oh how she negl'd him, negl'd him, 
 Oh how she negl'd him all the night long ! 
 o 2 
 
212 
 
 The Second Part of 
 
 A Catch. 
 Here's a Health unto his Majesty with a Fa la la, 6*. 
 Conversion to his enemies with a Fa la la, <**. 
 And he that will not pledge this Health, 
 I wish him neither wit nor wealth, 
 Nor yet a Rope to hang himself with a Fa la la, &c. 
 
 B 
 
 Good Advice against Treason. 
 UT since it was lately enacted high Treason 
 For a man to speak truth against the head of a 
 
 State 
 Let every wise man make use of his reason, (prate, 
 
 To think what he will, but take heed what te 
 For the Proverb doth learn us, v> 
 
 He that stales from the battel sleeps in a whole 
 And our words are our own, if we keep them within, 
 What fools are we then that to prattle do begin, ■ 
 
 Of things that do not concern us. 
 Tis no matter to me who e'r gets the battel, 
 
 The Tubs or the Crosses, 'tis all one to me, 
 It neither increaseth my goods nor my cattel, 
 A beggar's a beggar, and so he shall be, 
 Unless he turn Traytor. 
 
 Let Misers take courses to hoard up their treasure 
 Whose bounds have no limits[,] whose minds have 
 no measure, -g ut 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 213 
 
 Let me be but quiet, and take a little pleasure, 
 A little contents my own nature. 
 
 But what if the Kingdom returns to one of the 
 Prime ones ? 
 
 My mind is a Kingdom, and so it shall be, 
 I'll make it appear, if I had but the time once, 
 
 He's as happy in one, as they are in three, 
 If he might but enjoy it : 
 
 He that's mounted aloft, is a mark for the Fate, 
 
 And an envy to every pragmatical pate, 
 Whilest he that is low is safe in his estate, 
 
 And the great ones do scorn to annoy him. 
 
 I count him no wit that is gifted in rayling, 
 
 And Hurting at those that above him do sit, 
 Whilst they do out-wit him with whipping and goaling, 
 
 His purse and his person must pay for his wit : 
 But it is better to be drinking, [:] 
 
 If Sack were reform'd to twelve pence a quart, 
 
 I'd study for money to Merchandize for't, 
 With a friend that is willing in mirth we would sport, 
 
 Not a word ; but we'd pay it with thinking. 
 
 My petition shall be that Canary be cheaper, 
 
 Without either Custom, or cursed Excize, 
 That the wits may have freedom to drink deeper 
 and deeper, 
 And not be undone whilst our Noses we baptize, 
 But we'll liquor them, and drench them ; 
 
 o 3 If 
 
214 The Second Part of 
 
 If this were but granted, who would not desire, 
 
 To dub himself one oiApollds acquire? [own quire] 
 
 And then we will drink whilst our Noses are on fire, 
 And the quart-pots shall be Buckets to quench 
 them. 
 
 . 
 
 TJie feasting of the Divel\f\ by Ben 
 Johnson. 
 
 COo\-Laurel would needs have the divel his guest, 
 And bad him once into the Peake to dinner ; 
 Where never the Fiend had such a Feast 
 Provided him at the charge of a sinner. 
 
 His stomack was queasie (for comming there coacht) 
 The jogging had caused some crudities rise, 
 
 To help it he call'd for a Puritan poacht, 
 That used to turn up the whites of his eyes 
 
 And so recovered unto his wish, 
 
 He sate him down, and he fell to eat ; 
 Promooter in plum-broath was the first dish ; 
 
 His own privy Kitchin had no such meat. 
 
 Yet though with this he much were taken, 
 Upon a sudden he shifted his trencher ; 
 
 As soon as he spide the bawd, and bacon, 
 By this you may note the divel's a wencher. 
 
 Six 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 215 
 
 Six pickled Taylors sliced and cut, 
 
 Sempsters, Tire-women fit for his pallet, 
 
 With feather-men, and perfumers put, 
 
 Some twelve in a Charger to make a grand sallet. 
 
 A rich fat Usurer stew'd in his Marrow, 
 
 And by him a Lawyers head and Green-sawce ; 
 
 Both which his belly took in like a barrow, 
 As if till then he had never seen sawce. 
 
 Then carbinadoed, and cookt with pains 
 Was brought up a cloven Serjeant's Face ; 
 
 The sawce was made of the Yeomans brains, 
 That had been beaten out with his own Mace. 
 
 Two roasted Sheriffs came whole to the board, 
 (The Feast had nothing been without 'urn,) 
 
 Both living and dead they were Fox'd and Fur'd ; 
 Their chains like Sawsages hung about 'urn. 
 
 The very next dish was the Mayor of a town, 
 
 With a pudding of maintenance thrust in his belly, 
 
 Like a Goose in the Feathers drest in his Gown, 
 And his couple of Hinch boys boyl'd to a jelly. 
 
 A London Cuckold hot from the spit, 
 And when the Carver up had broke him, 
 
 The divel chopt up his head at a bit, (him 
 
 But the horns were very near like to have choakt 
 
 04 The 
 
216 The Second Part of 
 
 The Chine of a Leacher too there was roasted, 
 With a plump Harlots haunch and Garlick ; 
 
 A Panders pettitoes that had boasted 
 
 Himself a Captain, yet never was warlike. 
 
 A large fat Pasty of a Mid-wife hot, 
 
 And for a cold bak't meat into the story, 
 
 A reverend painted Lady was brought, 
 
 And coffind in crust, till now she was hoary. 
 
 To these, an over-grown-Justice of peace 
 
 With a Clark like a gizard thrust under each arm, 
 
 And warrants for sippets, laid in his own grease 
 Set over a chafing-dish to be kept warm. 
 
 The Jowle of a Jaylor served for Fish, 
 
 A Constable souz'd with Vinegar by, 
 Two Alder-men Lobsters asleep in a dish, 
 
 A Deputy tart, a Church-warden pye. 
 
 All which devoured, he then for a close, 
 
 Did for a full draught of Darby call, 
 He heaved the huge Vessel up to his Nose, 
 
 And left not till he had drunk up all. 
 
 Then from Table he gave a start, 
 
 Where banquet and wine were nothing scarce ; 
 All which he started away with a Fart, 
 
 From whence it was called the divels Arse. 
 
 And 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 2 1 7 
 
 And there he made such a breach with the wind, 
 The hole too standing open the while, 
 
 That the scent of the Vapour before and behind, 
 Hath foully perfum'd most part of the Isle. 
 
 And this was Tobacco, the Learned suppose, 
 Which since in Country, Court, and Town, 
 
 In the divels Glister-pipe smoakes at the Nose 
 Of Polcat and Madam, of Gallant, and Clown. 
 
 From which wicked weed, with swines-flesh & Ling, 
 Or any thing else that's feast for the Fiend, 
 
 Our Captains and we cry God save the King, 
 And send him good meat, & Mirth without end. 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 A Fig for care, why should we spare [?] 
 The Parish is bound to find us, 
 For thou and I and all must dye, 
 And leave the world behind us. 
 
 The Clerk shall Sing, the Bells shall Ring 
 
 And the Old Wives wind us ; 
 Sir John shall lay our Bones in Clay, 
 
 Where no body means to find us. 
 
 The 
 
2i8 The Second Part of 
 
 The Virtue of Wine. 
 
 LEt Souldiers fight for praise, and pay, 
 And Money bid the Misers wish ; 
 Poor Scholars study all the day, 
 And gluttons glory in their dish ; 
 
 Tis wine, 'tis wine revives sad souls, 
 Therefore give me the chearing bowls. 
 
 Let Minions marshal every hair, 
 And in a Lovers lock delight, 
 And artificial colours wear, 
 We have the native red and white ; 
 'Tis wine, Pure wine, &*& 
 
 Take Pheasant, Puet, and Culvered Salmon, 
 And how to please your Pallats think : 
 Give me a salt Westphalia gammon, 
 Not meat to eat, but meat to drink ; p but meet] 
 Tis wine, pure wine, &>c. 
 
 Some have the Ptysick, some the Rheume, 
 Some have the Palsie, some the Gout ; 
 Some swell with fat, and some consume, 
 But they are sound that drink all out ; 
 'Tis wine, tis wine, &c. 
 
 Some 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 219 
 
 Some men want Wit, and some want Wealth ; 
 Some want a Wife, and some want a Punk ; 
 Some men want Food, and some want Health, 
 But he wants nothing that is drunk ; 
 Tis wine, 'tis pure wine, &>c. 
 
 It makes the backward spirits brave, 
 
 Them lively, that before were dull ; 
 
 Those grow good Fellows that are grave, 
 
 And kindness springs from Cups brim-full ; 
 'Tis wine, 'tis wine revives sad soules, 
 Therefore give me the Charming bowles. 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 NE'er trouble thy self at the times or their turnings, 
 Afflictions run Circular and wheele about, 
 Away with thy murmurings, & thy heart burnings, 
 
 With the juice of the Grape we'll quench the fire 
 
 (out. 
 
 Ne'er chain nor imprison thy soul up in sorrow, 
 What failes us to day, may befriend us to morrow, 
 Let us scorn our content from others to borrow. 
 
 A 
 
220 The Second Part of 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 THree merry boys came out of the West, 
 To make Salt-peter strong ; 
 They turn'd it into Gunpowder, 
 
 To charge the Kings Canon ; 
 And so let this health go round, go round, 
 
 And so let this health go round, 
 Although thy stocking be made of Silk 
 
 Thy knee shall touch the ground. 
 God bless his Majesty, 
 
 And send him Victory. 
 Over his Enemy's 
 
 All or none. 
 
 A Loves Song. 
 
 CAlm was the Evening, and clear was the Skie, 
 And new budding Flowers did spring, 
 When all alone went Amyntas and I 
 To hear the sweet Nightingale sing. 
 I sate, and he laid him down by me, 
 And scarcely his breath he could draw, 
 But when with a fear, 
 He began to come near, 
 He was dasht with a ah, ah, ah. 
 
 He 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 221 
 
 He blusht to himself, and lay still for awhile, 
 And his modesty curb'd his desire, 
 But streightly [I] convinced all his fears with a smile, 
 And added new flames to his fire. 
 Ah, Silvia, said he, you are cruel, 
 To keep your poor Lover in awe, 
 
 Then once more he prest 
 
 With his hands to my brest, 
 But was dasht with a ah, ah, ah. 
 
 I knew 'twas his passions caused all his fear, 
 And therefore I pitied his case, 
 I whisper'd him softly, there's nobody near, 
 And laid my cheek close to his face : 
 But as he grew bolder and bolder, 
 A shepheard came by us and saw, 
 
 And just as our bliss 
 
 Began with a Kiss : 
 He burst out with a Ha, Ha, ha, Ha. 
 
 The Brewers Praise. 
 
 T Here's many a blinking verse was made [clinching] 
 In honour of the Blacksmiths trade, 
 But more of the Brewers may be said, 
 Which nobody can deny. 
 
 I 
 
222 The Second Part of 
 
 I need not else but this repeat, 
 The Blacksmith cannot be compleat, 
 Unless the Brewer do give him a heat, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 When Smug unto his Forge doth come 
 Unless the Brewer doth liquor him home 
 Could ne'er strike my pot and thy pot Tom, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 Of all the Professions in the Town, 
 This Brewers trade did gain renown, 
 His liquor once reacht up to the Crown, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 Much bloud from him did spring, 
 Of all the trades this was the King, 
 The Brewer had got the world in a sling, 
 Which no body, 6°r. 
 
 Though Honour be a Princess daughter, 
 The Brewer will woe her in bloud and slaughter, 
 And win her, or else it shall cost him hot water, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 He fear'd no pouder, nor martial stops, 
 But whipt Armies as round as tops, 
 And cut off his foes as thick as hops, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 He 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete, 223 
 
 He div'd for riches down to the bottom, 
 And cri'd, my Masters, when he had got 'urn, 
 Let every Tub stand upon his own bottom, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 In warlike Arts he scorn'd to stoop, 
 For when his party began to droop, 
 He'd bring them all up as round as a hoop, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 The Jewish Scots, who fear to eat 
 The flesh of Swine, our brewers beat, (treat[,j 
 
 'Twas the sight of their hogsheads made them to re 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 Poor Jockie and his basket hilt 
 Was beaten, and much bloud was spilt, 
 When their bodies, like barrels, did run a tilt, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 Though Jemmy did give the first assault, 
 The Brewer he made them at length to hault, 
 And gave them what the Cat left in the mault, 
 Which no body, 6^. 
 
 They did not only bang the Kirk, 
 
 But in Ireland too they did as much work, 
 
 Twas the Brewer made them surrender Cork, 
 
 Which no body, &°<r. 
 
 This 
 
224 The Second Part of 
 
 This was a stout Brewer, of whom we may brag, 
 But since he was hurried away with a hag, 
 We have brew'd in a bottle, and bak'd in a bag, 
 Which no body, arc. 
 
 They said that Antichrist came to settle 
 Religion within a Cooler and a Kettle, 
 His Nose and his Copper were both of a mettle, 
 W T hich no body, &>c. 
 
 He had a strong, and a very stout heart, 
 And look'd to be made an Emperour for't, 
 But the Divel did set a spoke in his Cart, 
 Which no body, 6rc. 
 
 The Christian Kings began to quake, 
 And said, with that Brewers no quarrels we'll make, 
 We'll let him alone, as he brews let him bake, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 But yet by the way you must needs understand, 
 He kept all his Passions so under command, 
 Pride never could get the upper-hand, 
 Which no body, arc. 
 
 And now may all stout souldiers say, 
 Farewell the glory of the Dray, 
 For the Brewer himself is turn'd to Clay, 
 Which no body, ore. 
 
 Thus 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 225 
 
 Thus fell a brave Brewer the bold son of slaughter, 
 Who need not to fear much what should follow after, 
 That dealt all his life-time in fire and water, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 And if his Successor had had but his might, 
 We all had not been in that pitiful plight, 
 But alas, he was found many grains to[o] light, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 Though Wine be a Juice sweet, pleasant, and pure, 
 This Trade doth such pleasure and profit procure, 
 That every Vintner in Town is turn'd Brewer, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 But now let's leave singing, and drink off our Bub, 
 Let's call for a Reckoning, and every man club, 
 For I think I have told you a Tale of a Tub, 
 Which no body can deny. 
 
 The Song of the Blacksmith. 
 
 OF all the Trades that ever I see, (be ; 
 
 There's none to the Blacksmith compared may 
 With so many several tooles works he, 
 Which no body can deny. 
 
 The first that ever Thunderbolts made 
 Was a Cyclops of the Blacksmiths Trade, 
 As in a Learned Author is said, 
 Which no body, 6°r. 
 
 p W T hen 
 
226 The Second Part of 
 
 When thundring like we strike about, 
 The fire like Lightning flashes out, 
 Which suddenly with water we d' out, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 The fairest Goddess in the skies, 
 To marry with Vulcan did advise, 
 And he was a Blacksmith grave and wise, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 Vulcan he to do her right, 
 Did build her a Town by day and by night, 
 And gave it a name which was Hammersmiths hight, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 Vulcan further did acquaint her, 
 That a pretty Estate he would appoint her, 
 And leave her Seacoal-lane for a Joynter, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 And that no enemy might wrong her, 
 He built her a fort, you'd wish no stronger, 
 Which was in the lane of Ironmonger, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 Smithfield he did cleanse from durt, 
 And sure there was great Reason for 't, 
 For there he meant she should keep her Court, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 But 
 
Merry Drollery, Complete. 227 
 
 But after in a good time and tide, 
 It was by the Blacksmith rectifi'd 
 To the honour of Edmund Ironside, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 Vulcan after made a traine, 
 Wherein the God of war was tane 
 Which ever since hath been call'd Pauls chaine, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 The common Proverb as it is read, 
 That a man must hit the naile on the head, 
 Without the Blacksmith cannot be said, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 Another must not be forgot, 
 And falls unto the Blacksmiths lot, 
 That a man strike while the Iron is hot, 
 Which no body, 6°*:. 
 
 Another comes in most proper and fit, 
 The Blacksmiths justice is seen in it, 
 When you give a man roast & beat him with the spit 
 When no body, &*c. 
 
 Another comes in our Blacksmiths way, 
 When things are safe, as old wives say, 
 We have them under lock and key, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 p 2 Another 
 
228 The Second Part of 
 
 Another that's in the Blacksmiths books, 
 And only to him for remedy looks, 
 Is when a man's quite off the hooks, 
 Which no body, &°c. 
 
 Another Poverb to him doth belong, 
 And therefore let's do the Blacksmith no wrong, 
 When a man's held to it buckle and thong, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 Another Proverb doth make me laugh, 
 Wherein the Blacksmith may challenge half, 
 When a Reason's as plain as a Pike staffe, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 Though your Lawyers travel both near and far, 
 And by long pleading a good cause may mar, 
 Yet your Blacksmith takes more pains at the Bar, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 Though your Scrivener seek to crush and to kill 
 By his counterfeit deed, and thereby doth ill, 
 Yet your Blacksmith may forge what he will, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 Though your bankrupt Citizens lurk in their holes, 
 And laugh at their Creditors, and their Catchpoles, 
 Yet your Blacksmith can fetch them over the coals, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 Though 
 
Merry D r oiler ie, Complete. 229 
 
 Though yockie in the stable be never so neat, 
 To look to his nag, and prescribe him his meat, 
 Yet your Blacksmith knows better how to give a 
 
 Which no body, &c. (heat, 
 
 If any Taylor have the Itch, 
 The Blacksmiths water, as black as pitch, 
 Will make his hands go thorough stitch, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 There's never a slut, if filth o'r smutch her, 
 But owes to the Blacksmith for her leacher, 
 For without a pair of tongues there's no man will 
 
 Which no body, &*c. (touch her, 
 
 Your roaring boy, who every one Quails, 
 Fights, domineers, swaggers, and rayls, 
 Could never yet make the Smith eat his Nails, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 If a Schollar be in doubt, 
 And cannot well bring his matter about, 
 The Blacksmith he can hammer it out, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 Now if to know him you would desire, 
 You must not scorn, but rank him higher, 
 For what he gets, is out of the fire, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 p 3 Now 
 
230 The Second Part of 
 
 Now here's a good health to Blacksmiths all, 
 And let it go round, as round as a ball ; 
 We'll drink it all off, though it cost us a fall, 
 Which nobody can deny. 
 
 The Gypsies, a Catch. 
 
 COme my dainty doxies, 
 My Dove, my Darle, my Dear, 
 We have neither meat nor drink, 
 Yet never want good chear ; 
 
 We take no care for Candle, Rents, 
 
 We lye, we swear, we snort in Tents, 
 Come rouse betimes 
 All you that love your dinners, 
 
 Our store now taken 
 
 With Pigs, Hens, and Bacon, 
 And that's good meat for sinners. 
 
 At Fairs and Wakes we cuzzen 
 Poor Country Folk by the dozen ; 
 
 Some come to disburses, 
 
 And some to pick purses ; 
 
 We for want of use 
 
 We steal both hose and shooes, 
 
 Gilded Spurs with jingling Rowels, 
 
 Shirts or Smocks, Sheets or Towels ; 
 
 Come 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 231 
 
 Come live with us all you that love your ease, 
 He that's a Gipsie may be drunk when he please, 
 We laugh, we quaff, we roar, we snuffle 
 We drink, we Drab, we cheat, we shuffle. 
 
 In imitation of Come my Daphne, a 
 Dialogue betwixt Pluto and Oliver. 
 
 Pluto. ^Ome Imp Royal, come away, 
 
 V_^ Into black night we will turn bright day. 
 
 Oliver. Tis Pluto calls, what would my Syre ? 
 
 Pluto. Come follow to the Stygian fire. 
 
 Where Ireton doth wait to welcome thee in 
 
 (State. 
 Oliver. Were I in bed with my sweet wife, 
 
 I'd quit those joys for such a life. 
 Pluto. My princely Nol make hast, 
 
 For thee we keep a fast. 
 Oliver. In these dismal shades will I 
 
 Unto thee unfold my Villany. 
 Pluto. In my bosome I'll thee lay, 
 
 For thy sake we'll all keep holy day. 
 
 Chorus. We'll rage and roar, and fry in flames 
 And Charles himself shall see 
 How damn'dly we agree, 
 Yet scorn to change our Chains 
 For his Eternal diety. [Deity] 
 
 p 4 A 
 
232 The Seco7id Part of 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 (for me, 
 He wise men were but seven, ne'r more shall be 
 
 The Muses were but 9, the worthies 3 times 3 : 
 
 And three merry boys, & three merry boys are we : 
 
 T 
 
 The Verities were but seven, & three the greater be ; 
 
 The Ccesars they were twelve, & the fatal Sisters three ; 
 
 And three merry Girles, & three merry Girles are 
 
 (we. 
 
 Tlie Power of Wine. 
 
 HOw poor is his Spirit, how lost is his name ? 
 Deceiveth Opinion, and curtels his Fame, 
 When as his design turns neer to their hate, 
 Twixt shall I, and shall I suspects their o[w]ne wai[gh]t, 
 Hath trafhck't for honour, but lost the whole fraight, 
 He that's stout in the front, but not so in the rear, 
 Doth forfeit his Fame, and is cowed down by fear. 
 
 A small part of honour to him doth belong, 
 Consults not his glory, but faints in the throng, 
 That fears to embrace what his Country doth vote, 
 And yields up her liberty to a Red-coat ; 
 Sure Midsunwier is near, and some men do doat, 
 
 I 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 233 
 
 I like the bold Romans, whose fame ever rings [,] 
 That kept in subjection such pitiful things. 
 
 He that will be Bug-bear'd is turn'd again Child, 
 A Reed than a Scepter is fitter to weild : 
 Examine that story, no story you'll find 
 Than saving that story that Cat will to kind; 
 The world is deluded, the Commonwealth blind, 
 Your false stamps of honor proves but copper mettle [,] 
 And Fame sounds as loud from a tinkers old kettle. 
 
 He that hath past the Pike, and found Canon-free, 
 Which shews that no curse from his Parents could be, 
 Had a soul so devout [it] made killing a trade, 
 And now to retreat at the scent of a blade, (made, 
 Doth show of what mould our Knight-errant is 
 He that flags in his flight when his ambition soars 
 Doth stab his own merit, & gives fame the lye. (high 
 
 Then Cuero-like you gown-men drench cares, 
 O'rwhelm'd with your own & your Countries affairs, 
 And Pulpit-men to be as ayry as he ; 
 Do you but preach Sack up well ne'r disagree 
 That Commonwealth's best that is the most free, 
 Then fret not, nor care not, when the Sack's in our 
 We fancy a King up, or fancy him down. (Crown, 
 
 The 
 
234 The Second Part of 
 
 The Mad Zealot, 
 
 AM I mad, O noble Festus, 
 When zeal and godly knowledge 
 Have put me in hope 
 To deal with the Pope, 
 As well as the best in the Colledge ? 
 
 Boldly I preach, hate a Cross, hate a Surplice, 
 Miters, Copes, and Rochets : 
 Come hear me pray nine times a day, 
 And fill your heads with Crotchets. 
 
 In the house of pure Emanuel 
 I had my Education, 
 Where my friends surmise 
 I dazelPd mine eyes 
 With the light of Revelation, 
 Boldy I preach, &c. 
 
 They bound me like a Beldam [Bedlam] 
 They lasht my four poor quarters : 
 Whilst this I endure, 
 Faith makes me sure 
 To be one of Foxes Martyrs, 
 Boldly I preach, &c. 
 
 These 
 
Merry Dr oiler ie, Complete. 235 
 
 These injuries I suffer 
 Through Antichrists perswasions ; 
 Take off this chain, 
 Neither Rome nor Spain 
 Can resist my strong invasions, 
 Boldly I preach, &>c. 
 
 Of the beasts ten horns (God bless us) 
 I have knockt off three already : 
 If they let me alone, 
 I'll leave him none : 
 But they say I am too heady. 
 Boldly I preach, &>c. 
 
 When I sack'd the seven hilFd-City, 
 I met the great red Dragon : 
 I kept him aloof, 
 With the armour of proof, 
 Though here I have never a rag on : 
 Boldly I preach, &c. 
 
 With a fiery Sword and Target 
 There fought I with this Monster : 
 But the sons of pride 
 My zeal deride, 
 And all my deeds misconster. 
 Boldly I preach, &*c. 
 
z^6 The Second Part of 
 
 I unhers'd the whore of Babel 
 With a Lance of Inspirations : 
 I made her stink, 
 And spill her drink 
 In the cup of Abominations, 
 Boldly I preach, &c. 
 
 I have seen two in a Vision, 
 With a flying Book between them : 
 I have been in despair 
 Five times a year, 
 And cur'd by reading Greenham, 
 Boldly I preach, &*c. 
 
 I observed in Perkins Tables 
 The black Lines of Damnation, 
 Those crooked veins 
 So stuck in my brains, 
 That I feared my Reprobation, 
 Boldly I preach, &*c. 
 
 In the holy land of Canaan 
 I plac'd my chiefest pleasure, 
 Till I prick'd my foot 
 With an Hebrew root, 
 That I bled beyond all measure, 
 Boldly I preach, &>c. 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 237 
 
 I appear'd before th' Archbishop, 
 
 And all the High Commission : 
 
 I gave him no Grace, 
 
 But told him to his face 
 
 That he favour'd Superstition, 
 
 Boldly I preach, hate a Cross, hate a Surplice, 
 Miters, Copes, and Rochets : 
 Come hear me pray nine times a day 
 And fill your heads with Crotchets. 
 
 Drunk with Love. 
 
 IDoat, I doat, but am a Sot to shew it, 
 I was a very fool to let her know it, 
 For now she doth so cunning grow, 
 And proves a friend worse than a Foe, 
 She will not hold me fast, nor let me go : 
 She tells me I cannot forsake her, 
 Then straight I endeavour to leave her, 
 But to make me stay throws a kiss in my way, 
 O then I could tarry for ever. 
 
 Thus I retire, salute, and sit down by her 
 There do I fry in frost, and freeze in fire ; 
 Now nectar from her lips I sup, 
 And though I cannot drink all up, 
 Yet I am Fox'd with kissing of the Cup : 
 
 For 
 
238 The Second Part of 
 
 For her lips are two brimmers of Garret, 
 Where first I began to miscarry, 
 Her breasts of delight are two bottles of White, 
 And her eyes are two cups of Canary, 
 
 Drunk, as I live, dead drunk beyond reprieve, 
 For all my secrets dribble through a sieve ; 
 About my neck her arms she layeth, 
 Now all is Gospel that she saith, 
 Which I lay hold on with my fudled faith ; 
 I find a fond Lover's a Drunkard, 
 And dangerous is when he flies out, 
 With hips, and with lips, with black eyes & white 
 Blind Cupid sure tipled his eyes out. (thighs 
 
 She bids me rise, tells me I must be wise, 
 Like her, for she's not in love she cries ; 
 This makes me fret, and fling, and throw, 
 Shall I be fetter'd to my foe ? 
 I begin to run, but cannot go ; 
 
 I prethee, sweet, use me more kindly, 
 
 You were better to hold me fast, 
 
 If you once disengage your bird from his cage, 
 
 Believe it he'll leave you at last. 
 
 Like Sot I sit that filPd the Town with wit, 
 
 But now confess I have most need of it ; 
 
 I have been fox'd with Duck and Deer 
 
 Above a quarter of a year 
 
 Beyond 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 239 
 
 Beyond the cure of sleeping, or small beer ; 
 I think I can number the Months too, 
 July, August, September, October, 
 Thus goes my account, a mischief light on't, 
 But sure I shall go when I'm sober. 
 
 My Legs are lam'd, my courage is quite tam'd, 
 
 My heart and all my body is enflam'd, 
 
 As by experience I can prove, 
 
 And swear by all the Powers above, 
 
 Tis better to be drunk with wine than love : 
 For 'tis Sack makes us merry and witty, 
 Our foreheads with Jewels adorning, 
 Although we do grope, yet there's some hope, 
 That a man may be sober next morning. 
 
 Thus, with command, she throws me from her hand, 
 
 And bids me go, yet knows I cannot stand ; 
 
 I measure all the ground by trips, 
 
 Was ever Sot so drunk with sips, 
 
 Or can a man be overseen with lips ? 
 I pray Madam fickle be faithful, 
 And leave off your damnable dodging, 
 Then do not deceive me, either love me or leave 
 Or let me go home to my lodging. (me, 
 
 I have too much, and yet my folly is such, 
 
 I cannot [leave] hold, but must have t'other touch ; 
 
 Here's a health to the King : how now ? 
 
 In 
 
240 The Second Part of 
 
 I'm drunk and speak treason I vow, 
 Lovers and Fools say any thing you know ; 
 I fear I have tired your patience, 
 But I'm sure 'tis I have the wrong on't ; 
 My wits are bereft, and all I have left 
 Is scarce enough to make a Song on't ; 
 My Mistris and I shall never comply, 
 And there's the short and the long on't. 
 
 A Present to a Lady. 
 
 LAdies I do here present you 
 With a token Love hath sent you ; 
 Tis a thing to sport and play with, 
 Such another pretty thing 
 For to pass the time away with ; 
 Prettier sport was never seen ; 
 
 Name I will not, nor define it, 
 Sure I am you may devine it : 
 By those modest looks I guess it, 
 And those eyes so full of fire, 
 That I need no more express it, 
 But leave your fancies to admire. 
 
 Yet as much of it be spoken 
 
 In the praise of this love-token : 
 
 Tis a wash that far supasseth 
 
 For 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 241 
 
 For the cleansing of your blood, 
 All the Saints may bless your faces, 
 Yet not do you so much good. 
 
 Were you ne'r so melancholly, 
 It will make you blithe and jolly ; 
 Go no more, no more admiring, 
 When you feel your spleen's amiss, 
 For all the drinks of Steel and Iron 
 Never did such cures as this. 
 
 It was born in th' Isle of Man 
 Venus nurs'd it with her hand, 
 She puffed it up with milk and pap, 
 And lull'd it in her wanton lap, 
 So ever since this Monster can 
 In no place else with pleasure stand. 
 
 Colossus like, between two Rocks, 
 
 I have seen him stand and shake his locks, 
 
 And when I have heard the names 
 
 Of the sweet Saterian Dames, 
 
 O he's a Champion for a Queen, 
 
 Tis pity but he should be seen. 
 
 Nature, that made him, was so wise 
 As to give him neither tongue nor eyes, 
 Supposing he was born to be 
 The Instrument of Jealousie, 
 
 q Yet 
 
242 The Second Part of 
 
 Yet here he can, as Poets feign, 
 Cure a Ladies love-sick brain. 
 
 He was the first that did betray- 
 To mortal eyes the milky way ; 
 He is the Proteus cunning Ape 
 That will beget you any shape ; 
 Give him but leave to act his part, 
 And he'll revive your saddest heart. 
 
 Though he want legs, yet he can stand, 
 With the least touch of your soft hand; 
 And though, like Cupid, he be blind, 
 There's never a hole but he can find ; 
 If by all this you do not know it, 
 Pray Ladies give me leave to shew it. 
 
 A Combate of Cocks. 
 
 GO you tame Gallants, you that have the name, 
 And would accounted be Cocks of the Game, 
 That have brave spurs to shew fo? J t, and can crow, 
 And count all dunghil breed that cannot shew 
 Such painted Plumes as yours ; that think no vice, 
 With Cock-like lust to tread your Cockatrice : 
 Though Peacocks, Wood-cocks, Weather-cocks you be, 
 If f are no fighting-cocks, fare not for me : 
 
Merry Drollery, Complete, 243 
 
 I of 'two feather 'd Combatants will write, 
 He that to tti life means to express the fight, 
 Must make his ink d th! bloud which they did spill, 
 And from their dying wings borrow his quill. 
 
 NO sooner were the doubtfull people set[, 
 The matches made, and all that would had bet, 
 But straight the skilful Judges of the Play, 
 Bring forth their sharp-heel'd Warriours, and they 
 Were both in linnen bags, as if 'twere meet, 
 Before they dy'd to have their winding sheet. 
 With that in th' pit they are put, & when they were 
 Both on their feet, the Norfolk Chanticleere 
 Looks stoutly at his ne'r-before seen foe, 
 And like a Challenger begins to crow, 
 And shakes his wings, as if he would display 
 His warlike Colours, which were black and gray : 
 Mean time the wary Wisbich walks and breaths 
 His active body, and in fury wreaths 
 His comely crest, and often looking down, 
 He whets his angry beak upon the ground : 
 With that they meet, not like the coward breed 
 Of s£sop, that can better fight than feed. 
 They scorn the dung-hill, 'tis their only prize, 
 To dig for Pearl within each others eyes : 
 They fight so long, that it was hard to know 
 To th' skilful, whether' they did fight or no, 
 Had not the bloud which died the fatal floor 
 
 Born witness of it ; yet they fight the more, 
 
 Q 2 As 
 
244 The Second Part of 
 
 As if each wound were but a spur to prick 
 
 Their fury forward : lightning's not more quick 
 
 Nor red than were their eyes : ? twas hard to know 
 
 Whether 'twas bloud or anger made them so : 
 
 And sure they had been out, had they not stood 
 
 More safe by being fenced in by blood. 
 
 Yet still they fight, but now (alas) at length 
 
 Although their courage be full tried, their strength 
 
 And bloud began to ebbe ; you that have seen 
 
 A water- combat on the Sea, between 
 
 Two roaring angry boyling billows, how 
 
 They march, and meet, and dash their curled brows, 
 
 Swelling like graves, as if they did intend 
 
 T'intomb each other, ere the quarrel end : 
 
 But when the wind is down, and blustring weather, 
 
 They are made friends, & sweetly run together, (low[,] 
 
 May think these champions such, their combs grow 
 
 And they that leapt even now, now scarce can go : 
 
 Their wings which lately at each blow they clapt [,] 
 
 (As if they did applaud themselves) now flapt. 
 
 And having lost the advantage of the heel, 
 
 Drunk with each others bloud they only reel. 
 
 From either eyes such drops of bloud did fall, 
 
 As if they wept them for their Funeral. 
 
 And yet they would fain fight, they come so near, 
 
 As if they meant into each others ear 
 
 To whisper death ; and when they cannot rise, 
 
 They lie and look blows in each others eyes. 
 
 But 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 245 
 
 But now the Tragick part after the fight, 
 When Norfolk Cock had got the best of it, 
 And Wisbich lay a dying, so that none, 
 Though sober, but might venture seven to one, 
 Contracting (like a dying Tapre) all 
 His force, as meaning with that blow to fall ; 
 He struggles up, and having taken wind, 
 Ventures a blow, and strikes the other blind. 
 And now Poor Norfolk having lost his eyes, 
 Fights only guided by th' Antipathies : 
 With him (alas) the proverb holds not true, 
 The blows his eyes ne'er see, his heart most rue. 
 At length by chance, he stumbling on his foe, 
 Not having any power to strike a blow, 
 He falls upon him with a wounded head, 
 And makes his conquered wings his Feather-bed, 
 Where lying sick, his friends were very chary 
 Of him, and fetcht in haste an Apothecary ; 
 But all in vain, his body did so blister, 
 That 'twas uncapable of any Glister, 
 Wheresoever at length, opening his fainting bill, 
 He call'd a Scrivener, and thus made his Will. 
 
 INprimis, Let it never be forgot, 
 My body freely I bequath to tH pot, 
 Decently to be boyVd, and for its tomb, 
 Let it be buried in some hungry womb. 
 Item, Executors L will have none, 
 But he that on my side laid seven to one : 
 
 Q 3 And 
 
246 The Second Part of 
 
 And like a Gentleman that he may live, 
 To him and to his heirs my comb I give ; 
 Together with my brains, that all may know, 
 That often times his brains did use to crow. 
 Item, // is my Will to the weaker ones, 
 Whose wives complain of them, I give my stones ; 
 To him thafs dull, I do my spurs impart, 
 And to the Coward, I bequeath my heart : 
 To Ladies that are light, it is my will, 
 My feathers should be giv'n; and for my bill, 
 Tl giv't a Taylor, but it is so short, 
 That Fm afraid he'* I rather curse me for' t: 
 And for the Apothecaries fee, who meant 
 To give me a Glister, let my Rump be sent. 
 Lastly, because L feel my life decay, 
 I yield, and give to Wisbich Cock the day. 
 
 In praise of Sack. 
 
 COme faith let's frolick, fill some Sack, 
 For then we shall not lack 
 Food for the belly, nor physick for the back, 
 
 This Beer breeds the Chollick, let us spread 
 Our Cheeks with Royal Red, 
 And then we'll sing, hey toss the divel's dead, 
 To Faction we never more will bow the knee : 
 Great Britains fate in faith 'twas long of thee. 
 
 You 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 247 
 
 You may see what Madam England hath been at 
 When we behold her Nose is fain so flat. 
 
 To Wine we'll build a Shrine, 
 
 And an Altar divine, 
 High as the sign, where thy red nose and mine 
 
 Like Tapers shall shine : 
 Then let's drink for the Bets, 'tis the loser that gets, 
 
 In spight of their threats, and their Creditors nets, 
 We'll drink off our debts, 
 
 Where he that's dead drunk, shall be 
 Laid out in state, as well as he 
 
 Whose dignity the only objects be 
 Of new Idolatry, 
 We'll guard his corps like a Bride 
 
 To the grave-side, so copious and wide, 
 With as much pride as he that lately dyed, 
 
 The Railing set aside. 
 
 Fifty red-faces free, shall his Torch-bearers be ; 
 Six maudlin mourners his Coffin shall carry, 
 There we will tipple free unto the memory 
 Of our fraternity drown'd in Canary : 
 In the Divel-Tavern we commonly will shew him, 
 
 We'll bury him from the divel, 
 
 Others fair men to him. 
 
 We'll be blythe and trimmer, 
 We'll have Musick to[o] 
 
 Q 4 Jews 
 
248 The Second Part of 
 
 Jews-harp, tongues and Skimmer, 
 
 Thy Cup my Cup 
 
 Bar-boy fill the other brimmer, 
 
 Fly cup strike up there boy, 
 
 Till our eyes do grow dimmer. 
 
 Money shall be spent in Bays, 
 Every pen shall vent a praise 
 And a Monument we'll raise 
 
 Over his bones. 
 Where his Epitaph shall be, 
 That he dyed in Loyalty, 
 Never gain'd by Cruelty, 
 
 Kingdoms, nor Crowns, 
 That he never lived by injury, 
 Nor confounded men for forgery, 
 Neither put a prop of Perjury 
 
 Under his thrones ; 
 That although he drank his Cares away, 
 And sometimes his Loyal fears away, 
 Yet he never drank the tears away 
 
 Of Orphans Groans. 
 
 Thus he shall be both frollick and free, 
 Who's kindly kill'd with Canary, 
 
 With red and white, or other delight, 
 If tippling makes him miscarry, 
 
 Provided he [a] Bachanel be, 
 
 And scorns to admit of a parley, 
 
 With 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 249 
 
 With Ale or Beer, or other such geer, 
 
 Polluted with Hop or with Barley, [:] 
 
 Good wine doth ring, like Priest and King, 
 But 'tis Ale that looks like a Lay-man, 
 
 Then for the Vineyard draw your Whynyard, 
 The Divel go with the Dray-man. 
 
 A Maidenhead. 
 
 WHat is that you call a Maidenhead ? 
 A thing oft smothered in a bed, 
 Which some have now, which all have had, 
 Which freely given makes one sad. 
 
 'Tis got for nought with little pain ; 
 'Tis kept, but lost, not got again ; 
 'Tis that you call a Maidenhead, 
 By proving quick 'tis ever dead. 
 
 A lump which Lasses bear about [lamp] 
 
 Till putting in doth put it out ; 
 A herb it is which proves a weed 
 When first the husk doth bear a Seed. 
 
 It's that a Maidenhead we call, 
 A thing by standing made to fall ; 
 It is a Maiden-head, say we, 
 That's kept by holding close the knee. 
 
 Which 
 
250 The Second Part of 
 
 Which youths were often used to lurch, 
 Which Brides do seldom bear to Church ; 
 At fifteen rare, at eighteen strange, 
 Which either lose when two do change. 
 
 That f [l]it's when Maidens begin to reak, 
 When ere it parts, it makes them squeak, 
 And being gone, they streight repent : 
 This by a Maidenhead is meant. 
 
 
 The Night encounter. 
 
 WHen Phoebus had drest his course to the West 
 To take up his rest below, 
 And Cynthia agreed in her glittering weed 
 Her light in his stead to bestow : 
 I walking alone, attended by none, 
 I suddenly heard one cry, 
 
 O do not, do not kill me yet, 
 For I am not prepared to dye. 
 
 At length I drew near to see and to hear, 
 And straight did appear to shew, 
 The Moon was so bright, I saw such a sight 
 It's fit no Wight should it know : 
 A man and a maid together were laid, 
 And ever she said, nay fie, 
 O do not, 6°r. 
 
 The 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 251 
 
 The youth was so tough he pulPd up her stuff, 
 And to blindman-buff he did go, 
 Though still she did lye, yet still she did cry, 
 And put him but by with a no ; 
 But he was so strong, and she was so young, 
 But she rested a while for to cry, 
 O do not, &>c. 
 
 Thus striving in vain, well pleased again, 
 She vowed to remain his foe, 
 She kept such a coyl, when he gave her the foyl, 
 The greater the broyl did grow \ 
 For he was prepar'd, and did not regard 
 Her words, when he heard her ciy, 
 O do not, &>c. 
 
 He said to the Maid, Sweet be not afraid, 
 
 Thy Physitian I will be ; 
 
 If I light in the hole that pleaseth me best, 
 
 I'll give thee thy Physick free ; 
 
 He went to it again, and hit in the Vein 
 
 Where all her whole grief did lye ; 
 
 O kill me, kill me once again, 
 
 For I am prepared to dye. 
 
 , At length he gave o'r and suddenly swore, 
 He'd kill her no more that night, 
 He bid her adieu, for certain he knew 
 She wou'd tempt him to more delight : 
 
 But 
 
252 The Second Part of 
 
 But when they did part it went to her heart, 
 For at length he had taught her to cry, 
 O kill me, kill me once again, 
 For now I am prepared to dye. 
 
 The Protecting Brewer. 
 
 A Brewer may be a Burgess grave, 
 And carry the matter so fine and so brave, 
 That he the better may play the Knave, 
 Which no body can deny. 
 
 A Brewer may be a Parliament-man 
 For there the knavery first began, 
 And Brew most cunning Plots he can, 
 Which no body, 6°<r. 
 
 A Brewer may put on a Nabal face, 
 And march to the Wars with such a grace, 
 That he may get a Captains place, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 A Brewer may speak so monstrous well, [wondrous] 
 That he may raise strange things to tell, 
 And so [to] be made a Colonel, 
 Which no body, &°c. 
 
 A 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 253 
 
 A Brewer may make his foes to flee, 
 And raise his fortunes, so that he 
 Lieutenant General may be, 
 Which no body, &°<r. 
 
 A Brewer he may be all in all, 
 And raise his powers both great and small, 
 That he may be a Lord General, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 A Brewer may be like a Fox in a Cub, 
 And teach a Lecture out of a Tub, 
 And give the wicked world a rub, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 A Brewer by's Excise and Rate, 
 Will promise his Army he knows what, 
 And set it upon the Colledge-gate, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 Me thinks I hear one say to me, 
 Pray why may nor [not] a Brewer be, 
 Lord-Chancelour o' th' University, 
 Which no body, 6°^. 
 
 A Brewer may be as bold as a Hector, 
 When he has drunk off his cup of Nectar, 
 And a Brewer may be a Lord Protector, 
 Which no body, 6°c. 
 
 Now 
 
254 The Second Part of 
 
 Now here remains the strangest thing, 
 How this Brewer about his liquor doth bring, 
 To be an Emperour, or a King, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 A Brewer may do what he will, 
 [And] Rob the Church and State, to sell 
 His soul unto the divel of hell, 
 Which no body can deny. 
 
 o 
 
 Cromwel's Coronation. 
 Liver, Oliver, take up thy Crown, 
 
 For now thou hast made three Kingdoms thine 
 Call thee a Conclave of thy whole creation, (own ; 
 
 To ride us to ruine, who dare thee oppose : 
 Whilst we thy good people are at thy devotion, 
 
 To fall down and worship thy terrible Nose. 
 
 To thee and thy Mermydons Oliver, we, 
 
 Do tender thy [? our] homage as fits thy degree, 
 
 We'll pay the Exsize and Taxes, God bless us, 
 With fear and contrition, as penitents should, 
 
 Whilst you, great sirs, vouchsafe to oppress us, 
 Not daring so much as in private to scold. 
 
 (Sword. 
 We bow down, as cow'd down, to thee & thy 
 For now thou hast made thy self Englands sole Lord, 
 
 By 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 255 
 
 By mandate of Scripture, and heavenly warrant, 
 The Oath of Allegiance, and Covenant too ; 
 
 To Charles & his Kingdoms thou art Heir apparent, 
 And born to rule over the Turk and the Jew. 
 
 Then Oliver, Oliver, get up and ride, (side, 
 
 Whilst Lords, Knights, & Gentry, do run by thy 
 
 The Maulsters and Brewers account it their glory, 
 Great God of the Grain-tub's compared to thee : 
 
 All Rebels of old are lost in their story, 
 
 Till thou Plod'st along to the Paddington-trtQ. 
 
 The Drunkard. 
 
 WHen I do travel in the night 
 The Brewers dog my brains do's byte, 
 My heart grows heavy, and my heels grow light, 
 And I like my humour well, well, 
 And I like my humour well. 
 
 When with upsie freeze I line my head, 
 My Hostis Sellar is my bed, 
 The worlds our own, and the divel is dead, 
 And I like, &>c. 
 
 Then I'll be talking of matters of Court, 
 About the taking of some Fort, 
 Then I'll swear a lye is true report, 
 And I like, &>c. 
 
 Then 
 
256 The Second Part of 
 
 Then I'll be talking of matters of State, 
 
 Of news from [the] Pallatinate, 
 What Princes are confederate, 
 And I like, &c. 
 
 If my Hostis bids me pay my score, 
 And stand if I can, I call her whore, 
 I reel and tumble out of her doore, 
 And I like, &c. 
 
 That I came from the War, I roar and swear 
 I made a fellow die for fear, 
 How many I killed that I never came near, 
 And I like, &°c 
 
 If I meet with a Taylors Stall, 
 And the stones with my nose with fighting fall, 
 We kiss and are friends, and so there's all, 
 And I like, &c. 
 
 With an Indian Chimney in my hand, 
 Having a Boy at my command, 
 Like a brave Commander up I stand, 
 And I like, &c. 
 
 Then I justle with every post I meet, 
 I kick the dunghils about the street, 
 I trample the kennels about my feet, 
 And I like, &>c. 
 
 The 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 257 
 
 The Constable I curse and ban, 
 That bids me stand if I be a man, 
 I tell him he bids me do more than I can, 
 And I like, &c. 
 
 If I fall to the ground, and the watchmen see 
 And ask of me, if I foxed be ? 
 I tell them 'tis my humility, 
 And I like, &°c. 
 
 Then home I go, and my Wife doth skold [,] 
 
 She bawls the more I bid her hold, 
 It is my patience makes her bold, 
 And I like, &c. 
 
 Then I grope to bed, but miss the way, 
 Forget me where my Cloaths, I lay, 
 I call for drink by break of day, 
 And I like my humour [well]. 
 
 Song of Sir Eglamore. 
 
 Sir Eglamore, that valiant Knight, fa, la, la, la, la, 
 He put on his Sword, & he w r ent to fight, fa, la, 
 And as he rid o'r hill and dale, 
 All armed in his Coat of Maile, 
 
 Fa, la, la, la, fa, la, la, lalla, la. 
 
 r There 
 
258 The Second Part of 
 
 There starts a huge Dragon out of his Den, fa, la, 
 Which had kill'd I know not how many men, fa, la, 
 But when he see Sir Egla?nore> 
 If you had but heard how the Dragon did roar, 
 Fa, la, la, &c. 
 
 This Dragon he had a plaguy hard hide, fa, la, la, 
 Which could the strongest steel abide, fa, la, la, 
 He could not enter him with cuts, 
 Which vex'd the Knight to his heart bloud & guts, 
 Fa, la, la, &>c. 
 
 All the trees in the wood did shake, fa, la, la, 
 Horses did tremble, and men did quake, fa, la, la, 
 The birds betook them to their peeping, 
 'Twould have made a mans heart to fall a w r eeping, 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 But now it was no time to fear, fa, la, la, 
 For it was time to fight Dog, fight Bear, fa, la, la, 
 But as the Dragon yawning did fall, 
 He thrust his Sword down hilt and all, 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 For as the Knight in Choller did burn, fa, la, la, 
 He ought the Dragon a shrewd good turn, fa, la, la, 
 In at his mouth his Sword he sent, 
 The hilt appeared at his fundament. 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 Then 
 
Merry Drollery, Complete, 259 
 
 Then the Dragon, like a Coward, began to flee, fa, la, 
 Into his Den that was hard by, fa, la, la, 
 There he laid him down and roar'd, 
 The Knight was sorry for his Sword, 
 Fa, la, la, 
 
 The Sword it was a right good blade, fa, la, la, 
 As ever Turk or Spaniard made, fa, la, la, 
 I, for my part, do forsake it, 
 [And] He that will fetch it, let him take it, 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 When all was done, to the Alehouse he went, fa, la, 
 And presently his two pence he spent, fa, la, la, 
 He was so hot with tugging with the Dragon, 
 That nothing would squench him but a [w]hole flagon, 
 Fa, la, la. 
 
 Well, now let us pray for the King & Queen, fa, la, 
 And eke in London there may be seen, fa, la, la, 
 As many Knights, and as many more, 
 And all as good as Sir Eglamore, 
 
 Fa, la, la, la, fa, la, la, la, lalla, la. 
 
 I 
 
 The Rump, 
 
 F none be offended with the Scent, 
 
 Though I foul my mouth, I'll be content, 
 
 R 2 To 
 
260 The Second Part of 
 
 To sing of the Rump of a Parliament, 
 Which no body can deny. 
 
 I have som[e]times fed on a Rump in Souse, 
 And a man may imagine the Rump of a Louse ; 
 But till now was ne'r heard of the Rump of a house. 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 There's a rump of beef, and the rump of a goose [,] 
 And a rump whose neck was hang'd in a noose ; 
 But ours is a Rump can play fast and loose, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 A Rump had Jane Shore, and a Rump Messaleen, 
 And a Rump had Anto?iies resolute Queen ; 
 But such a Rump as ours is, never was seen, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 Two short years together we English have scarce 
 Been rid of thy rampant Nose (old Mars,) 
 But now thou hast got a prodigious Arse, 
 Which no body, 6°r. 
 
 When the parts of the body did fall out, 
 Some votes it is like did pass for the Snout ; 
 But that the Rump should be King was never a 
 Which no body, &c. (doubt 
 
 A 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 261 
 
 A Cat has a Rump, and a Cat has nine lives, 
 Yet when her head's off, her Rump never strives ; 
 But our Rump from the grave hath made two re- 
 Which no body, &*c. (trives, 
 
 That the Rump may all their enemies quail, 
 They'l borrow the Divels Coat of Mayl, 
 And all to defend their estate in Tayl, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 But though their scale now seen to be th' upper, 
 There's no need of the charge of a thanksgiving supper, 
 For if they be the Rump, the Armies their Crupper, 
 Which no body, &°c. 
 
 There is a saying belongs to the Rump, 
 Which is good although it be worn to the stump [,] 
 That on the Buttock, I'll give thee a thump, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 There's a Proverb in which the rump claims a part, 
 Which hath in it more of Sence than of Art, 
 That for all you can do I care not a fart, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 There's another Proverb gives the Rump for his 
 But Alderman Atkins made it a jest, (Crest, 
 
 That of all kind of lucks shitten luck is the best, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 r 3 There's 
 
262 The Second Part of 
 
 There's another Proverb that never will fail, 
 That the good [the] Rump will do when they prevail, 
 Is to give us a flap with a Fox-tail, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 There is a saying, which is made by no fools, 
 I never can hear on't but my heart it cools, 
 That the Rump will spend all we have in close- 
 
 Which no body &c. (stools, 
 
 There's an observation wise and deep, 
 
 Which, without an Onion, will make me to weep, 
 
 That flies will blow Maggots in the Rump of a 
 
 Which no body, &*c. ( sheep, 
 
 And some, that can see the wood from the trees, 
 Say, this Sanctified Rump in time we may leese : 
 For the Cooks do challenge the rumps for their Fees ? 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 When the Rump do sit, we'll make it our moan, 
 That the Reason be 'nacted, if there be not one, 
 Why a Fart hath a tongue, and a Fiestpe] hath none, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 And whil'st within the walls they lurk, 
 To satisfie us, will be a good work, 
 Who hath most Religion, the Rump or the Turk, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 A 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 263 
 
 A Rump's a Fag end, like the baulk of a furrow, 
 And is to the whole like the jail to the burrough, 
 Tis the bran that is left when the meal is run tho- 
 Which no body, &=c. ( rough, 
 
 Consider the world, the heav'n is the head on't, 
 The earth is the middle, and we men are fed on't, 
 But hell is the rump, and no more can be said on't, 
 Which no body can deny. 
 
 The Red-coats Triumph. 
 
 COme Drawer, and fill us about some wine, 
 Let's merrily tipple, the day is our own ; 
 We'll have our delights, let the Country go pine, 
 Let the King and the Kingdom groan : 
 The Crown is our own, and so shall continue, 
 We'll baffle Monarchy quite, 
 We'll drink of the Kingdoms Revenue, 
 And sacrifice all to Delight ; 
 'Tis power that brings us all to be Kings, 
 And we'll all be crown'd by our might. 
 
 A fig for Divinity Lectures, and Law, 
 
 And all that true Loyalty do pretend ; 
 
 We will by the Sword keep Kingdoms in awe, 
 
 And our Powers shall never end ; 
 
 The Church and the State we'll turn into liquor, 
 
 And spend a whole town in a day : 
 
 R 4 We'll 
 
264 The Second Part of 
 
 We'll melt all the Bodkins the quicker 
 
 Into Sack, and drink them away ; 
 
 We'll keep the demeans of the Bishops and Deans, 
 
 And over the Presbyter sway. 
 
 Now nimble Saint Patrick is sunk in a bog, 
 
 And his Country-men sadly cry, O hone, O hone ; 
 
 Saint Andrew and his Kirkmen are lost in a fog, 
 
 And now we are the Saints alone ; 
 
 Thus on our Equals and Superiours we trample, 
 
 And Jockie our stirrop shall hold, 
 
 The Citie's our Mule for example, 
 
 Whilst we will in plenty be rou'ld ; 
 
 Each delicate dish shall but eccho our wish, 
 
 And our drink shall be cordial Gold. 
 
 The Bulls Feather. 
 
 IT chanced not long ago, as I was walking, 
 An eccho did bring me where two were a talking : 
 'Twas a man said to his wife, die had I rather, 
 Than to be cornuted, and wear the Bulls feather, 
 
 Then presently she reply'd, Sweet, art thou jealous ? 
 Thou canst not play Vulcan before I play Venus : 
 Thy fancies are foolish, such follies to gather : 
 There's many an honest man has worn the Bulls Feather. 
 
 Though 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 265 
 
 Though it be invisible, let no man it scorn, 
 Though it be a new Feather made of an old horn, 
 He that disdains it in heart or mind either 
 May be the more subject to wear the Bulls Feather. 
 
 He that lives discontent, or is in despair, 
 And feareth false measure, because his wife's fair : 
 His thoughts are inconstant, much like winter weather, 
 Though one or two want it, he shall have a Feather. 
 
 Bulls Feathers are common as Ergo in Schools, 
 And only contemned by those that are fools : 
 Why should a Bulls Feather cause any unrest, 
 Since neighbours fare alwaies is counted the best ? 
 
 Those women wh' are fairest, are likely to give it ; 
 And husbands that have them, are apt to believe it 
 Some men though their wives should seem for to 
 
 (tedder, 
 They would play the kind neighbour, and give the 
 
 (Bulls feather. 
 
 Why should we repine that our wives are so kind, 
 Since we that are husbands are of the same mind ? 
 Shall we give them feathers, and think to go free ? 
 Believe it, believe it, that hardly will be. 
 
 For he that disdains my Bulls feather to day, 
 May light of a Lass that will play him foul play, 
 
 There's 
 
266 The Second Part of 
 
 There's ne'r a proud gallant that treads on Cows 
 
 (Leather, 
 But he may be cornuted, and wear the Bulls feather. 
 
 Though Beer of that brewing, I never did drink, 
 Yet be not displeas'd if I speak what I think, 
 Scarce ten in a hundred, believe it, believe it, 
 But either they'll have it, or else they will give it. 
 
 Then let me advise all those that do pine, 
 For fear that false jealousie shorten their time : 
 That disease will torment them worse than any feaver : 
 Then let all be contented to wear the Bul[l]s feather. 
 
 Old England turned New. 
 
 YOu talk of New England, I truely believe 
 Old England is grown new, & doth us deceive, 
 I'll ask you a question or two, by your leave, 
 And is not Old England grown new ? 
 
 Where are your old Souldiers with slashes and skars 
 That never used drinking in no time of wars, 
 Nor shedding of bloud in mad drunken jars ? 
 And is not, &>c. 
 
 New Captains are come that never did fight, 
 But with Pots in the day, and Punks in the Night, 
 And all their chief care is to keep their swords bright, 
 And is not, &c. 
 
 Where 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 267 
 
 Where are your old Swords, your bills, & your bows, 
 Your Bucklers and Targets that never feared blows ? 
 They are turned to Steelettoes, with other fair shews, 
 And is not, &°c 
 
 Where are your old Courtiers, that used to ride 
 With forty blew-coats and footmen beside ? 
 They are turned to six horses [,] a coach [,] with a 
 And is not, &c. (guide, 
 
 And what is become of your old fashion Cloaths, 
 Your long-sided breeches, and your trunk hose ? 
 They are turned to new fashions, but what, the Lord 
 And is not, &>c. knows, 
 
 Your Gallant & his Taylor some half year together, 
 To fit a new suit to a new hat and feather, 
 Of Gold, or of Silver, silk, cloath, stuff, or leather, 
 And is not, &c. 
 
 We have new fashion'd beards, and new fashion'd locks, 
 And new fashion'd hats for your new pated blocks, 
 And more new diseases besides the French pox, 
 And is not, &>c. 
 
 New houses are built, and the old ones pulPd down, 
 Untill the new houses sell all the old ground, 
 And then the house stands like a horse in the pound, 
 And is not, &c. 
 
 New 
 
268 The Second Part of 
 
 New fashions in houses, new fashions at table, 
 The old servants discharged, the new are more able, 
 And every old custome is but an old fable, 
 And is not, &>c. 
 
 New trickings, new goings, new measures, new paces, 
 New heads for your men, for your women new faces, 
 And twenty new tricks to mend their bad cases, 
 And is not, &*c. 
 
 New tricks in the Law, new tricks in the holds, [Rouls] 
 New bodies they have, they look for new souls 
 When the money is paid for the building of Pauls, 
 And is not, &*c. 
 
 Then talk you no more of New-England, 
 New-England is where Old England did stand, (man'd ; 
 New furnish'd, new fashion'd, new woman'd new 
 And is not Old England grown New. 
 
 A Merry Song. 
 
 COme Drawer, turn about the bowle 
 Till every soul has made a scrowle 
 As long as his arm : 
 Again, my boy, be filling still 
 Till every will has had his fill, 
 Twill keep us from harm : 
 
 For 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 269 
 
 For he that is copious, and doth freight with Sack, 
 Has the world at will, and doth nothing lack ; 
 He's richest then can drink off a Tun, 
 The bravest men that are under the Sun ; 
 Now the world is so giddy, that it scarce knows 
 To smell out the truth now it has lost its nose : 
 That has left behind a Pitiful case, 
 It smels, you'l find, in every place. 
 
 Then since he is happiest that drinks the most, 
 Joy, call mine Host, that honest tost, 
 
 He shall have his share \ 
 For interest we'll give him drink, 
 Now wine is chink, yet let him think 
 
 Our dealing is faire ; 
 For I'll maintain his reckoning's good. 
 Though we had drunk on tick since Noah's flood, 
 We'll clear it all in Platoes year, 
 You'l hear we shall be Catoes there : 
 Then he's an ass will spare for Chalk 
 To purchase Sack ; what e'r you talk, 
 He's not great, nor rich, nor wise ; 
 An errant Cheat does Wine despise. 
 
 A Scottish Covenant we'll take 
 To burn at stake, if not forsake 
 
 The old heresie 
 Of bowzing to a petticoat, 
 If healths of note we could not vote 
 
 Past any she, They 
 
270 The Second Part of 
 
 They are but blazes, and soon are gone, 
 Fine trifles for us to play upon : 
 When we have nought, or little to do, 
 We'll have 'urn brought, and tickle 'urn too : 
 Mean time let us drink a Carouse to those 
 Who are neither the French nor the Spaniards foes, 
 For all our treasure is there in their Mines, 
 There's no pleasure here but in their wines. 
 
 The Contented, 
 
 PRay why should any man complain, 
 Or why disturb his breast or brain 
 At this new alteration ? 
 Since that which has been done's no more 
 Than what has oft been done before, 
 And that which will be done again, 
 As long as there are ambitious men, 
 That strive for domination. 
 
 In this mad age there's nothing firm, 
 All things have period, and their term r 
 Their rise and declination ; 
 Those gaudy nothings we admire, 
 Which get above and shine like fire, 
 Are empty vapours raised from ground, 
 Their mock-shine past th' are quickly down, 
 Must fall like exhalation. 
 
 But 
 
 
Merry Dr oiler ie> Complete. 271 
 
 But still we Commons must be made 
 A gaull'd, a lame, thin hackney Jade, 
 And all by turns will ride us ; 
 This side, or that no matter which, 
 For both do ride with spur and switch, 
 Till we are tired, and then at last 
 We stumble, and our riders cast, 
 
 'Cause they'd not feed nor guide us. 
 
 Th' insulting Clergy quite mistook, 
 Thinking that Kingdoms past by book, 
 Or Crowns were got by prating • 
 'Tis not the black coat, but the red, 
 Has power to make, or be the head ; 
 Nor is it oaths, nor words, nor tears, 
 But Musquets and full Bandeleers 
 Have power of legislating. 
 
 The Lawyers must lay by their books, 
 And study Monck much more than Cooks; 
 The Sword is the Learned Pleader : 
 Reports and Judgements will not do't, 
 But 'tis Dragoons and Horse and Foot ; 
 Words are but wind, but Swords come home, 
 A stout tongued Lawyer is but a mome, 
 Compared to a stout file-leader. 
 
 Such wit and valour root all things, 
 They pull down, and they set up Kings, 
 
 All 
 
272 The Second Part of 
 
 All Law is in their bosoms ; 
 That side is alwaies right that's strong, 
 And that that's beaten must be wrong : 
 And he that thinks it is not so, 
 Unless he's sure to beat 'um too, 
 He's but a fool to oppose 'm. 
 
 Let them impose taxes and rates, 
 'Tis but on them that have estates, 
 Not such as thou and I are : 
 But it concerns those wor[l]dlings which 
 At least are made, or else grow rich, 
 Such as have studied all their daies 
 The saving and the thriving waies, 
 To be the mules of power. 
 
 If they'l reform the Church or State, 
 
 We'll ne'r be troubled much thereat : 
 
 Let each man take his opinion, 
 
 If we don't like the Church, you know 
 
 Taverns are free, and there we'l go ; 
 
 And every one will be 
 
 As clearly unconcern'd as we, 
 
 They'l ne'r fight for domination. 
 
 The 
 
Merry D r oiler ie, Complete. 273 
 
 The indifferent. 
 
 WHat an Ass is he 
 Waits a womans leisure 
 For a minutes pleasure, 
 And perhaps may be 
 GulFd at last, and lose her, 
 What an ass is he ? 
 
 Shall I sigh and die 
 
 'Cause a maid denies me, 
 
 And that she may try me, 
 
 Suffer patiently ? 
 
 O no ! Fate shall tye me, [? no Fate] 
 
 To such cruelty. 
 
 Love is all my life, 
 For it keeps me doing : 
 Yet my love and wooing 
 Is not for a Wife : 
 It is good eschewing 
 Warring, care, and strife. 
 
 What need I to care 
 For a womans favour ? 
 If another have her, 
 
 s Why 
 
274 The Second Part of 
 
 Why should I despair, 
 When for gold and labour 
 I can have my share, 
 
 If I fancy one. 
 And that one do love me, 
 Yet deny to prove me, 
 Farewel, I am gone. 
 She can never move me, 
 Farewel, I am gone. 
 
 If I chance to see 
 
 One that's brown, I love her, 
 
 Till I see another, 
 
 That is browner than she, 
 
 For I am a lover 
 
 Of my liberty. 
 
 Every day I change, 
 And at once love many, 
 Yet not tied to any, 
 For I love to range, 
 And if one should stay me 
 I should think it strange. 
 
 What though she be old, 
 So that she have riches, 
 Youth and Form bewitches, 
 
 But 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete, 275 
 
 But 'tis store of Gold 
 Cures lascivious itches, 
 So the Criticks hold. 
 
 A West-country Mans Voyage to New- 
 England. 
 
 MY Masters give audience, and listen to me, 
 And streight che will tell you where che have 
 be: 
 Che have been in New-England, but now cham come 
 
 o'er, 
 Itch do think they shal catch me go thither no more. 
 
 Before che went o'er Lord how Voke did tell 
 How vishes did grow, and how birds did dwell 
 All one mong, t'other [,] in the wood and the water, 
 Che thought had been true, but che find no such matter. 
 
 When first che did land che mazed me quite, 
 And 'twas of all daies on a Satterday night, 
 I Che wondred to see the strong building were there, 
 'Twas all like the standing at Bartholmew Fair. 
 
 1 Well, that night che slept till near Prayer time, 
 !Next morning che wondred to hear no Bells chime, 
 And when che had ask'd the reason, che found 
 'Twas because they had never a Bell in the Town. 
 
 s 2 At 
 
2j6 The Second Part of 
 
 At last being warned to Church to repair, (prayer, 
 Where che did think certain che sho'd hear some 
 But the Parson there no such matter did teach, 
 They scorn'd to pray, they were all able to preach. 
 
 The virst thing they did, a Zalm they did sing, 
 
 I pluckt out my Zalm book, which with me did bring[,] 
 
 Che was troubled to seek him, 'cause they call him by 
 
 name, 
 But they had got a new Song to the tune of the same. 
 
 When Sermon was done was a child to baptize 
 About sixteen years old, as volk did surmise, 
 And no Godfather nor Godmother, yet 'twas quiet 
 
 and still, 
 The Priest durst not cross him for fear of his ill will. 
 
 A Sirra, quoth I, and to dinner che went, 
 And gave the Lord thanks for what he had sent ; 
 Next day was a wedding, the brideman my friend, 
 He kindly invites me, so thither I wend. 
 
 But this, above all, to me wonder did bring, 
 To see a Magistrate marry, and had ne'r a ring ; 
 Che thought they would call me the woman to give [,] 
 But che think he stole her, for he askt no man leave. 
 
 Now this was new Dorchester as they told me, 
 A Town very famous in all that Country ; 
 
 They 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 277 
 
 They said 'twas new building, I grant it was true, 
 Yet methinks old Dorchester as fine as the new. 
 
 Che staid there among them till che was weary at 
 heart, 
 
 At length there came shipping, che got leave to de- 
 part : 
 
 But when all was ended che was coming away, 
 
 Che had threescore shillings for swearing to pay. 
 
 But when che saw that, an oath more che swore, 
 Che would stay no more longer to swear on the score; 
 Che bid farewel to those Fowlers and Fishers, 
 So God bless old England and all his well wishers. 
 
 A medicine for the Quartan Ague. 
 
 THe Aphorisms of Galen I count but as straws, 
 Profound Pispot-peepers be you all mute, 
 The old quartan feaver breaks all Physick-laws, 
 To help to cure it I think it is boot : 
 I Perusing of late a wormeaten book, 
 I Brought hither from Cinthia down in Charles's wain; 
 A curious medicine out thence I took, 
 To cure the quartan Feaver again. 
 
 First choose a Physitian that will not exceed 
 l Probatum est, speaking no more than he knows, 
 
 s 3 Who 
 
278 The Second Part of 
 
 Who hath more skill in his tongue than his head j 
 Who his Potions on Patients gratis bestows, 
 Three Midsummer moons in one, let him pray 
 To Apollo, and the Moon being full in the wane, 
 And Scola Salerna twice backward to say, 
 
 And it will cure the quartan Feaver again. 
 
 His Patients water then let him cast 
 In a pure Urinal of old August Ice, 
 And diet him strictly, no gross meats to eat, 
 But feed him with fancies, and antick device, 
 To walk every morning some eight miles or more, 
 Before Phoebus rises, in the sunshine, 
 And before he be up to be seen without door, 
 And 'twill cure, &°c. 
 
 Then let him take from him nine drops and a half 
 Of purified bloud, but pierce not the skin, 
 Only open a vein in the heel of the calf, 
 Some half a year before the fit do begin ; 
 To sweat eleven minutes in an Oven let him lye, 
 Heat with a North wind, and a shower of rain, 
 And sleep every night with one half of an eye, 
 And 'twill cure, &>c. 
 
 To keep his body alwaies soluble and loose, 
 That he shall never fear to be subject to be bound, 
 Let him drink Woodcocks water in the quill of a 
 Goose, 
 
 And 
 
Merry Drollery, Complete. 279 
 
 And alwaies untruss when he goes to ground ; 
 Thus being prepared, let the Doctor proceed 
 With all other ingredients to conquer his pain, 
 And profess more Art than ere he did read, 
 To cure the quartan, &?& 
 
 Then let him take the wind of the wing of a Crane, 
 As he flies over Caucasus hill, 
 With the precious stone was in Gyges his Ring, 
 Mix them with three turns of an honest windmil, 
 Boyl these altogether from a pint to a quart 
 In a Travellers mouth whose tongue cannot feigne, 
 And having new din'd give him this next his heart, 
 And 'twill cure, &*c. 
 
 Then three handfull take of Popes holy shadow, 
 When Sol is new entred into the dog : daies, 
 Three skreeches of an Owl [J four kaws of a Jackdaw, 
 With the brains and the heads of three ninepenny 
 Fry these together within a meal-sive, (nailes. 
 
 With the sweat of the south-side of a French bean, 
 And this to his Patient Morn & Even let him give, 
 And 'twill cure, &*c. 
 
 Take three merry thoughts of a Bride the first night 
 She's to lye with her Groom, to purge melancholly, 
 Three gingles of the silver spur of a field Knight, 
 Four Puritan faces, not counterfeit holy, 
 
 s 4 Take 
 
280 The Second Part of 
 
 Take three youthful Capers of an old Oxe, 
 And thorough a joyned stool them let him strain, 
 And then drink the juice through a tail of a Fox, 
 And it will cure, 6°r. 
 
 Moreover, because I strive to be brief, 
 Take three honest thrums of a weavers shuttle, 
 Three snips of a Taylors sheers that's no thief, 
 A cut-purses thumb, with his horn and his whittle, 
 The mind of a miller that ne'r took a corn, 
 More than his due in grinding of grain, 
 Burn these all together with Jeeny red stalks, 
 And 'twill cure, &*c. 
 
 And lastly, this counsel my old Author gives, 
 Take the bloud of a Beetle in the ayre as she flies, 
 Who, like a Physitian, of excrement lives, 
 And therewith let Empericks anoynt his quick eyes : 
 This being practised, he shall see soon 
 All natural mysteries perfect and plain, 
 And know as much Physick as the man in the moon 
 To cure the quartan feaver again. 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 NOw I am, married, Sir John I'll not curse, 
 He joyn's us together for better, for worse ; 
 But if I were single I tell you plain, 
 I would be advised ere I marri'd again. 
 
 Of 
 
Merry D r oiler ie, Complete. 281 
 
 Of Levelling. 
 
 I Have reason to fly thee, & not to sit down by thee, 
 For I hate to behold one so sawcy and bold, 
 That derides and contemns his superiours ; 
 Your Madams and Lords, 
 With such manerly words, 
 With gestures that be 
 Fit for our degree 
 Are things that we and you 
 Do claim as our due 
 From all those that are our inferiours, (know, 
 
 For from the beginning there were Princes we 
 'Tis your Levellers do hate 'cause they cannot be 
 
 (so. 
 All titles of honour were at first in the Donors, 
 But being granted away by that persons stay 
 Where he wore a small soul or a bigger, 
 There's a necessity 
 That there should be a degree, 
 Though Dick y Tom, and J^ack, 
 Will serve you and your pack, 
 Where 'tis due we'll afford 
 A Sir John, or my Lord, 
 Honest Dick's name is enough for a digger ; 
 
 He that hath a strong purse may all things be, or 
 Be valiant, and wise, and religious too. (do, 
 
 We 
 
282 The Second Part of 
 
 We have cause to adore that man that hath store 
 Though a boor or a sot, there's something to be got 
 Though he be neither honest nor witty, 
 
 Make him high, let him rule, 
 
 He'll be playing the fool, 
 
 And transgress, then we'll squeeze 
 
 Him for fines and for fees, 
 
 And we shall gain 
 
 By the vanities of his brain, 
 'Tis the fools Cap that maintains the City ; 
 If honour be but air, 'tis in common, and as fit 
 For the fool, or the Clown, as the champion or wit. 
 
 Then why may not we be of a different degree, 
 And each man aspire to be greater and higher 
 Than his wiser or honester brother, 
 
 Since Fortune and Nature 
 
 Their favours do scatter, 
 
 This hath Valour, that Wit 
 
 To his wealth, nor is it fit 
 
 That one should have all, 
 
 For then what would befall 
 He that is born not to one nor the other ? (chattel, 
 Though honor were a prize from at first, now it's a 
 And as meer huntable now as your ware, lands or 
 [huxtable] (cattle. 
 
 But in this we agree to live quiet and free, 
 To drink Sack and submit, and not shew your wit 
 
 By your prating, but silence and thinking ; 
 
 Let 
 
Merry D r oiler ie, Complete. 283 
 
 Let the Presbyter Jews 
 
 Read Diurnals and News, 
 
 And lard their discourse 
 
 With a Covenant that's worse ; 
 
 That which pleaseth me best 
 
 Is a Song or a Jest, 
 And my obedience I'll shew it by my drinking ; 
 And the name I desire is an honest good fellow, 
 And that man hath no worth that won't some- 
 times be mellow. 
 
 In praise of a Mistresse. 
 
 I Have the fairest JVon-perel, 
 The fairest that ever was seen, 
 And had not Venus been in the way, 
 She had been Beauties Queen. 
 
 Her lovely looks, her comely grace, 
 
 I will describe at large ; 
 God Cupid put her in his books, 
 
 And of this Jem took charge. 
 
 The Grecian Helen was a Moore, 
 
 Compar'd to my dear Saint, 
 And fair fac'd Syrens beauty poor, 
 
 And yet she doth not paint. 
 
 Andromeda 
 
284 The Second Part of 
 
 Andromeda^ whom Perseus lov'd, 
 
 Was foul were she in sight, 
 Her lineaments so well approv'd, 
 
 In praise of her I'll write. 
 
 Her hair not like the Golden wyre, 
 
 But black as any Crow, 
 Her brows so beetl'd all admire, 
 
 Her forehead wondrous low. 
 
 Her squinting, staring, gogling eyes 
 
 Poor Children do affright, 
 Her nose is of the Sarasens size ; 
 
 O she's a matchless wight. 
 
 Her Oven-mouth wide open stands, 
 And teeth like rotten pease, 
 
 Her Swan-like neck my heart commands, 
 And breasts all bit with Fleas. 
 
 Her tawny dugs, like two great hills, 
 Hang sow like to her waste, 
 
 Her body huge, like two wind-mills, 
 And yet she's wondrous chaste. 
 
 Her shoulders of so large a breadth, 
 She'd make an excellent Porter, 
 
 And yet her belly carries most, 
 If any man could sort her. 
 
 No 
 
Merry D r oiler ie, Complete. 285 
 
 No Shoulder of Mutton like her hand, 
 
 For broadness thick and fat, 
 With a pocky Mange upon her wrist : 
 
 Oh yove! how love I that ? 
 
 Her belly Tun-like to behold, 
 
 Her bush doth all excell, 
 The thing that, by all men extolFd, 
 
 Is wider than a well. 
 
 Her brawny buttocks, plump and round, 
 
 Much like a Horse of War, 
 With speckled thighs, scab'd and scarce sound ; 
 
 Her knees like Bakers are. 
 
 Her legs are like the Elephants, 
 
 The calf and small both one, 
 Her anckles they together meet, 
 
 And still knock bone to bone. 
 
 Her pretty feet not 'bove fifteens, 
 
 So splay'd as never was, 
 An excellent Usher for a man 
 
 That walks the dewy grass. 
 
 Thus have you heard my Mistris prais'd, 
 
 And yet no flattery us'd, 
 Pray tell me, is she not of worth ? 
 
 Let her not be abus'd. 
 
 If 
 
286 The Second Part of 
 
 If any to her have a mind, 
 He doth me wondrous wrong, 
 
 For as she's beautious, so she's chaste, 
 And thus concludes my Song. 
 
 Sensual Delight 
 
 A Re you grown so melancholly, 
 That you think of nought but folly ? 
 Are you sad, are you mad, are you worse, 
 Do you think want of chinck is your curse ? 
 Do you love for to have longer life, or a grave ? 
 Then this will cure you. 
 
 First I would have a bag of Gold, 
 That should ten thousand pieces hold, 
 And all that in your lap would I poure 
 For to spend on your friend or your whore, (lice, 
 For to play away at dice, or to shift you from your 
 And this will cure you. 
 
 Next I would have a soft bed made, 
 Wherein a Virgin should be laid 
 That will play any way you devise, 
 That will stick like an itch to your thighs, 
 That will bill like a dove, lie beneath or above, 
 And this will cure you. 
 
 Next 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 287 
 
 Next the bowl that Jove divine 
 Drunk Nectar in, filPd up with wine 
 And all that, like a Greek, you should quaff 
 Till your cheeks they look red, and you laugh, 
 Unto Ceres, and to Venus, unto Bacchics, and Selenus, 
 And this will cure you. 
 
 Next seven Eunuchs should appear 
 Singing in Spheare-like manner here 
 In the praise of the wayes of delight, 
 Venus can use with man in the night, 
 When she seemeth to adorn Vulcans head with a 
 And this will cure you. (horn. 
 
 But if no gold nor women can, 
 Nor wine, nor Song make merry man, 
 Let the Batt be your mate and the Owle, 
 Let the pain in the brain make you howl : 
 Let the Pox be your friend, and the Plague be your 
 And this will cure you. (end. 
 
 On Captain Hick his Oxford Feasts. 
 
 SUblimest discretions, have clubd for expressions 
 Which are mustered up here by our Captaine ; 
 Some staler, some milder, some tamer, some wilder, 
 And all in clean Linnen are wrapt in : 
 
 Oxford 
 
288 The Second Part of 
 
 2 
 
 Oxford University approves her self witty, 
 
 In Jests of more jovial concerning, 
 And jocose Apprehensions prefer their Inventions, 
 
 Before all the rest of her learning. 
 
 3 
 Here is choice, here is store, Eight Hundred or more 
 
 The Cream, and the Crown of all Jesting ; 
 
 All brave souls be Guests at this Banquet of Jests [:] 
 
 Lucullus had never such feasting. 
 
 4 
 Such wit here's exprest in every choice Jest 
 
 They'll make Mellanchollicus frolick, 
 
 And all those to forget to groan, and to fret, 
 
 That are troubled with Stone and the Chollick. 
 
 5 
 Will Sumners and Scoggin with Archee be Jogging[,] 
 
 Your Quirks and your Quibbles are folly : 
 
 No such rare Antidotes, ere took flight from the 
 
 'Gainst the poyson of black Mellancholly. (throats, 
 
 One reading a score did with laughter give o're 
 Or his broad sides had else split in sunder ; 
 At next Ordinary he with repeating of three 
 Made the wits at the board to knock under. 
 
 7 (turnies, 
 
 These will shorten the Journeys of Clarks and At- 
 With wits most refin'd Recreations, 
 
 And 
 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 289 
 
 And when they are far remote from the Barr 
 We'll cheer up their hearts in Vacations. 
 
 8 (trades) 
 
 Now all you brave Blades leave your Shops & your 
 Your lying and sollemn protesting, 
 
 And if ever you'll thrive cease to drink, swear, & 
 
 And study the science of Jesting. 
 
 9 
 
 To Gratifie Jesters sinks Angells to Testers [;] 
 
 But here without fear of Expences, 
 You may pick, you may chuse, you may take or remse 
 
 As suits with the moods, and the tences. 
 10 
 At home and abroad on our walks or the Road 
 
 These Cordials will prove Efficacious, 
 Search the Books of all ages, & ransack their Pages 
 
 You will find nothing half so Solacious. 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 A Pox on the Jaylor and on his fat Jole, 
 There's liberty lies in the bottom of th' Bole, 
 A fig for what ever the Rascal can do, 
 
 Our Dungeon is deep, but our Cups are so too ; 
 Then Drink we round in despite of our foes, 
 
 And make our hard Irons cry clink in the close : 
 Now laugh we and quaff we, untill our rich Noses 
 Grow red, and contest with our chapplets of Roses. 
 t Phillis 
 
290 The Second Part of 
 
 Phillis, her Lamentation. 
 
 MY Lodging is on the cold ground, 
 And very hard is my Fare ; 
 But that which troubles me most is 
 The unkindness of my Dear : 
 Yet still I cry turn Love, 
 
 And L prethee Love turn to me ; 
 For thou art the man that L long for, 
 And alack what remedy I 
 
 Fll Crown thee with Garlands of straw then, 
 
 And I'll marry thee with a Rush Ring ; 
 My frozen hopes shall thaw then, 
 And merrily we. will sing, 
 
 O turn to me my dear Love, 
 
 And I prethee Love turn to me ; 
 For thou art the ma7i that alone carfst 
 Procure my libertie. 
 
 But if thou wilt harden thy Heart still, 
 
 And be deaf to my pitiful moan, 
 Then I must endure the smart still, 
 And tumble in straw alone : 
 
 Yet still L cry O turn Love, 
 
 And I prethee Love turn to me ; 
 For thou art the ma?z that alone art 
 The cause of my miserie. 
 
 The 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 291 
 
 The Song of the Pedlers. 
 
 FRom the fair Lavinian Shore 
 I your Markets come to store, 
 Muse not though so far I dwell 
 
 And my wares come here to sell : 
 Such is the secret hunger of Gold, 
 Then come to my Pack, 
 While I cry, what d ' ye lack, 
 What d ' ye buy ? for here it is to be sold. 
 
 I have Beauty, Honour, and Grace, 
 
 Fortune, favour, Time and Place ; 
 And what else thou would'st request, 
 
 Even the thing thou likest best : 
 First let me have but a touch of thy Gold, 
 
 Then come to me Lad 
 
 Thou shalt have what thy Dad 
 Never gave ; for here it is to be sold. 
 
 Madam, come see what ye lack, 
 
 Here's Complexion in my pack \ 
 White and red you may have in this place 
 
 To hide your old ill wrinkled face. 
 First let me have a touch of thy Gold, 
 
 Then thou shalt seem 
 
 Like a Wench of fifteen, 
 Although you be threescore year old. 
 
 t 2 Ha, 
 
292 The Second Part of 
 
 Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha. 
 
 CAlm was the Evening and clear was the skie, 
 And the sweet budding flowers did spring, 
 When all alone went Amintor and I 
 
 To hear the sweet Nightingale sing : 
 I sate, and he lay'd him down by me, 
 And scarcely his breath he could draw, 
 
 But when with a fear he began to come near, 
 He was dasht with a ha ha ha ha ha ha, &c. 
 
 He blusht to himself, and laid still a while, 
 
 'Twas his modesty curb'd his desire ; 
 But streight I convinc'd all his fears with a smile, 
 
 And added new flames to his fire : 
 Ah ! Silvia, said he, you are cruel 
 To keep your poor lover in awe [:] 
 
 Then once more he prest with his hand to my brest 
 But was dasht with a ha ha ha ha ha ha, &c. 
 
 I knew 'twas his passion that caused his fear, 
 
 And therefore I Pitied his case ; 
 I whisper'd him softly, there's no body near, 
 
 And lay'd my Cheek close to his Face : 
 But as he grew bolder and bolder 
 A Shepherd came by us and saw, 
 
 And straight as our bliss, began with [a] kiss, 
 He laughs out with a ha ha ha ha ha ha, &c. 
 
 In 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 293 
 
 In praise of Sack. 
 
 FEtch me Ben Johnsons scull, and fill't with Sack, 
 Rich as the same he drank, when the whole pack 
 Of jolly sisters pledg'd, and did agree 
 It was no, sin to be as drunk as he : 
 If there be any weakness in the wine, 
 There's virtue in a Cup to mak't divine ; 
 This muddy drench of Ale does taste too much 
 Of earth, the Mault retains a scurvy touch 
 Of the dull hand that sows it ; and I fear 
 There's Heresie in Hops ; give Calvin Beer, 
 And his precise Disciples, such as think 
 There's Powder-treason in all Spanish drink \ 
 Call Sack an Idoll, nor will kiss the Cup, 
 For fear their Conventicle will be blown up 
 ;/j\; With superstition : give to these Brew-house alms, 
 Whose best mirth is Six shilling Beer, and Psalms : 
 Let me rejoyce in sprightly Sack, that can 
 Create a brain even in an empty pan. 
 Canary ! it's thou that dost inspire 
 And actuate the soul with heavenly fire ; 
 That thou sublim'st the Genius [,] making wit, 
 Scorn earth, and such as love, or live by it j 
 Thou mak'st us Lords of Regions large and fair, 
 Whil'st our conceits build Castles in the air : 
 
 t 3 Since 
 
294 The Second Part of 
 
 Since fire, earth, air, thus thy inferiours be, 
 
 Henceforth I'll know no Element but thee ; 
 
 Thou precious Elixir of all Grapes ! 
 
 Welcome [d] be thee our Muse begins her scapes, [by] 
 
 Such is the work of Sack ; I am (me thinks) 
 
 In the Excheqiter now, hark now it chinks : 
 
 And do esteem my venerable self 
 
 As brave a fellow, as if all the pelf 
 
 Were sure mine own ; and I have thought a way 
 
 Already how to spend it ; I would pay 
 
 No debts, but fairly empty every trunk, 
 
 And charge the Gold for Sack to keep me drunk; [change] 
 
 And so by consequence till [,] rich Stains Wine 
 
 Being in my crown, the Indies too were mine[,] 
 
 And when my brains are once afoot (heaven bles s us) 
 
 I think my self a better man than Crcesus. 
 
 And now I do conceit my self a Judge, 
 
 And coughing laugh to see my Clients trudge 
 
 After my Lordships Coach unto the Hall 
 
 For Justice, and am full of Law withal, 
 
 And do become the Bench as well as he 
 
 That fled long since for want of honestie : 
 
 But I'll be Judge no longer though in jest, 
 
 For fear I should be talk'd with like the rest 
 
 When I am sober ; who can chuse but think 
 
 Me wise, that am so wary in my drink ! 
 
 Oh admirable Sack ! here's dainty sport, 
 
 I am come back from Westminster to Court ; 
 
 And 
 
Merry Drollery \ Complete. 295 
 
 And am grown young again ; my Ptisick now 
 
 Hath left me, and my Judges graver brow 
 
 Is smooth'd, and I turn'd amorous as May, 
 
 When she invites young lovers for[th] to play 
 
 Upon her flowry bosome : I could win 
 
 A Vestal now, or tempt a Queen to sin. 
 
 Oh for a score of Queens ! you'd laugh to see 
 
 How they would strive which first should ravish me, 
 
 Three Goddesses were nothing : Sack has tipt 
 
 My tongue with charms like those which Paris sipt 
 
 From Venus, when she taught him how to kiss 
 
 Fair Helen, and invite a fairer bliss : 
 
 Mine is Canary-Rhetorick, that alone 
 
 Would turn Diana to a burning stone : 
 
 Stone with amazement, burning with loves fire, 
 
 Hard, to the touch, but short in her desire. [? soft] 
 
 Inestimable Sack ! thou mak'st us rich : 
 
 Wise, amorous, anything ; I have an itch 
 
 To t'other cup, and that perchance will make 
 
 Me valiant too, and quarrel for thy sake 
 
 If I be once inflam'd, against thy Nose 
 
 That could preach down thy worth in small-beer 
 
 I should do miracles [as] bad, or worse, (Prose [:] 
 
 As he that gave the King an hundred Horse : 
 
 T'other odd Cup, and I shall be prepar'd 
 
 To snatch at Stars, and pluck down a reward 
 
 With mine own hands from Jove upon their backs 
 
 That are, or Charles his enemies, or Sacks : 
 
 t 4 Let 
 
296 The Second Part of 
 
 Let it be full, if I do chance to spill 
 Ov'r my standish by the way[,] I will[,] 
 Dipping in this diviner Ink, my pen, 
 Write my self sober, and fall to \ agen, 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 NOw that the Spring hath fill'd our Veins 
 With kind and active fire. 
 And made green liveries for the Plains 
 And every Grove a Quire 
 
 Sing we this Song with mirth and merry glee, 
 
 And Bacchus crown the Bowl, 
 And here's to thee, and thou to me 
 
 And every thirsty soul. 
 
 Shear sheep that have them, cry we still, 
 
 But see that none escape, 
 To take off this Sherry, that makes us so merry 
 
 And plump as the lusty Grape. 
 
 The Huntsman. 
 
 F all the sports the world doth yield 
 Give me a pack of hounds in field, 
 Whose eccho sounds shrill through the sky, 
 Makes Jove admire our harmony, 
 
 o 
 
 And 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 297 
 
 And wish that he a mortal were, 
 To see such pleasures we have here. 
 
 Some do delight in Masks and plays, 
 And in Diands Holy daies. 
 Let Venus act her chiefest skill, 
 If I dislike I'll please my will ; 
 And choose such as will last, 
 And not to surfeit when I taste. 
 
 Then I will tell you of a scent, 
 Where many a horse was almost spent, 
 In Chadwel Close a Hare we found, 
 That led us all a smoaking round ; 
 O'r hedge and ditch away she goes, 
 Admiring her approaching foes. 
 
 But when she felt her strength to waste, 
 She parleys with the Hounds in haste. 
 The Hare. You gentle dogs forbear to kill 
 A harmless beast that ne'r did ill : 
 And if your Masters sport do crave, 
 I'll lead a scent as they would have. 
 
 The Hounds. Away, away, thou art alone, 
 Make haste we say, and get thee gone ; 
 We'll give thee leave for half a mile, 
 To see if thou canst us beguile : 
 
 But 
 
298 The Second Part of 
 
 But then expect a thundering cry, 
 Made by us and our company. 
 
 The Hare. Then since you set my life so light, 
 
 I'll make Black lovely turn to White, 
 
 And York-shire Gray, that runs at all, 
 
 I'll make him wish him in his stall ; 
 
 And Sorrel, he that seems to fly, 
 
 I'll make him sickly ere I die. 
 
 Let Burham-Bay do what he can, 
 And Barton Gray, Which now and then 
 Doth strive to winter up my way ; 
 I'll neither make him sit nor play, 
 And constant Robin, though he lie 
 At his advantage, what care I ? 
 
 But here Kit Bolton did me wrong, 
 As I was running all along • 
 For with one pat he made me so, 
 That I went reeling too and fro : 
 Then, if I die[,] your masters tell, 
 That fool did ring my passing-Bell. 
 
 But if your masters pardon me, 
 
 I'll read them all to Throngabby ; [? lead] 
 
 Where constant Robin keeps a room 
 
 To welcome all the Guests that come, 
 
 To 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 299 
 
 To laugh, and quaff in Wine, and Beer, 
 A full Carouze to their Career. 
 
 The Hounds. Away, away, since 'tis our nature 
 
 To kill thee, and no other Creature, 
 
 Our Masters they do want a bit, 
 
 And thou wilt well become the spit : 
 
 They eat the flesh, we pick the bone, 
 
 Make haste, we say, and get thee gone. 
 
 The Hare. Your Masters may abate their cheer, 
 My meat is dry ; and Butter dear ; 
 And if with me they'd make a friend, 
 They had better give a Puddings end : 
 Besides, once dead, then sport they'l lack, 
 And I must hang on th' Huntsman's back. 
 
 The Hounds. Alas poor Hare [!] we pity thee, 
 If with our nature 'twould agree ; 
 But all thy doubling shifts we fear 
 Will not prevent thy death so near, 
 Then make thy Will, for it may be that 
 May save thee \ else, we know not what. 
 
 The Harems Then I do give my body free, 
 Will. Unto your Masters courtesie ; 
 And if they'l spare till sport be scant, 
 I'll be their game, when they do want : 
 
 But 
 
300 The Second Part of 
 
 But when I'm dead each greedy hound 
 Will trail my entrails on the ground. 
 
 The Hounds. Were ever Dogs so basely crost ? 
 
 Our Masters call us off so fast, 
 
 That we the scent have almost lost ; 
 
 And they themselves must lose the roast, 
 
 Wherefore, kind Hare we pardon you : 
 
 The Hare. Thanks gentle Hounds, and so Adieu 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 OThe wily wily Fox, with his many wily mocks, 
 We'll Earth him if you'l but follow, 
 And now that we have done't, to conclude our mer- 
 Let us roundly whoop and hollow : (ry hunt, 
 
 Prethee drink, prethee drink, prethee, prethee drink, 
 That the Himters may all follow. 
 
 A Song. 
 
 SHe lay all naked in her bed, 
 And I my self lay by ; 
 No Vail nor Curtain there was spread, 
 
 No covering but I : 
 Her head upon one shoulder seeks 
 To hang in careless wise, 
 
 All 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 301 
 
 All full of blushes were her cheeks, 
 And wishes were her eyes. 
 
 Her bloud lay flushing in her face, 
 
 As ['t]on a message came, 
 To say that in some other place 
 
 It meant some other Game ; 
 Her neather Lip moyst, plump, and fair, 
 
 Millions of kisses crown'd, 
 Which ripe and uncropt dangled there, 
 
 And weighed the branches down. 
 
 Her breasts, that lay swell'd full and high, 
 
 Bred pleasant pangs in me, 
 And all the world I did defie 
 
 For that felicity ; 
 Her thighs and belly, soft and plump, 
 
 To me were only shewn : 
 To have seen such meat, and not to have eat, 
 
 Would have angred any one. 
 
 Her knees lay up, but stoutly bent, 
 
 And all was hollow under, 
 As if on easie terms they meant 
 
 To fall unforc'd asunder : 
 Just so the Cyprian Queen did lye, 
 
 Expecting in her bower ; 
 
 When too long stay, had kept the boy 
 
 Beyond his promis'd hour. 
 
 Dull 
 
302 The Second Part of 
 
 Dull Clown, quoth she, why dost delay 
 
 Such proffered bliss to take ? 
 Canst thou find no other way 
 
 Similitudes to make ? 
 Mad with delight I thundred in, 
 
 And threw mine arms about her, 
 But a pox upon 't 'twas but a dream, 
 
 And so I lay without her. 
 
 Of a Good Wife and a Bad. 
 
 SOme Wives are Good and some are Bad, 
 (Reply.) Methinks you touch them now, 
 And some will make their Husbands mad, 
 (Cho.) And so will my Wife too : 
 
 And my Wife and thy Wife, 
 And my Wife so will do. 
 
 Some Women love to breed discord, 
 
 Methinks, &c. 
 And some will have the latter word, 
 (Cho.) And so will my wife too : 
 
 And my Wife, &c. 
 
 Some Women will Spin, and some will Sow, 
 
 Methinks, &c. 
 And some will to the Tavern go, 
 (Cho.) And so will my Wife too : 
 
 And my Wife, &c. 
 
 Some 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 303 
 
 Some Women will say they'r sick at Heart, 
 
 Methinks, &c. 
 And some will let a rousing Fart, 
 (Cho.) And so will my Wife too ; 
 
 And my Wife, &c. 
 
 Some Women will ban and some will curse, 
 
 Methinks, &c. 
 And some will pick their Husbands Purse, 
 (Cho.) And so will my Wife too ' 
 
 And my, &c. 
 
 Some Women will Brawle, and some will Scold, 
 
 Methinks, &c. 
 And some will make their Husbands Cuckold, 
 (Cho.) And so will my Wife too : 
 
 And my, &c. 
 
 Some Women will drink, and some will not, 
 
 Methinks, &c. 
 And some will take the t'other Pot, 
 (Cho.) And so will my Wife too : 
 
 And my Wife, &c. 
 
 Some Women are sick, and some are sound, 
 
 Methinks, &c. 
 And some will take it on the Ground, 
 (Cho.) And so will my Wife too : 
 And my, &c. 
 
 Thus 
 
304 The Second Part of 
 
 Thus of my song I'll make an end, 
 
 Methinks, &c. 
 Hoping all women will amend, 
 (Cho.) And so will my Wife too : 
 
 And my Wife, &c. 
 
 C 
 
 A Catch. 
 All George again boy, call George again, 
 
 And for the love of Bacchus call George again. 
 George is a good boy, and draws us good wine, 
 Or fills us more Clarret our wits to refine ; 
 George is a brave Lad, and an honest man, 
 If you will him know, he dwells at the Swan. 
 
 A Song. 
 
 POx take you Mistris I'll be gone, 
 I have friends to wait upon ; 
 Think you I'll my self confine, 
 To your humours ( Lady mine :) 
 No, your louring seems to say : 
 ? Tis a rainy drinking day, 
 To the Tavern I'll away. 
 
 There have I a Mistris got, 
 Cloystered in a Pottle pot : 
 
 Brisk 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete, 305 
 
 Brisk and sprightly as thine eye, 
 When thy richest glances fly, 
 Plump AND bounding, lively, fair, 
 Bucksome, soft, and debonair : 
 And she's calFd Sack, my DEAR. 
 
 Sack's my better Mistris far, 
 Sack's my only beauty-star ; 
 Whose rich beams, and glorious raies, 
 Twinkle in each red rose and face : 
 Should I all her vertues shew, 
 Thou thy self would love-sick prove, 
 AND she'd prove thy Mistris TOO. 
 
 She with no dart-scorn will blast me ; 
 
 But upon thy bed can cast me ; P my] 
 
 Yet ne'er blush herself too red, 
 
 Nor fear of loss of Maiden-head : [a loss] 
 
 And she can (the truth to say) 
 
 Spirits into me convey, 
 
 MORE than thou canst take AWAY. 
 
 Getting kisses here's no toyl, 
 
 Here's no Handkerchief to spoyl ; 
 
 Yet I better Nectar sip, 
 
 Than dwells upon thy lip : [can dwell] 
 
 And though mute and still she be, 
 
 Quicker wit she brings to me, 
 
 Than e'er I could find in THEE. 
 
 v If 
 
306 The Second Part of 
 
 If I go, ne'er think to see 
 
 Any more a fool of me ; 
 
 I'll no liberty up give, 
 
 Nor a Maudlin-like love live, 
 
 No, there's nought shall win me to % 
 
 'Tis not all thy smiles can do \ 
 
 Nor thy Maiden-head to BOOT. 
 
 Yet if thou'lt but take the pain 
 
 TO be good but once again ; 
 
 If one smile then call me back, 
 
 THOU shalt be that Lady Sack : 
 
 Faith but try, and thou shalt see 
 
 What a loving Soul I'll be, 
 
 WHEN I am drunk with nought but thee. 
 
 The Answer. 
 
 I Pray thee, Drunkard, get thee gone, 
 Thy Mistris Sack doth smell too strong : 
 Think you I intend to wed, 
 A sloven to be-piss my bed ? 
 No, your staining me's to say, 
 You have been drinking all this day. 
 Go, be gone, away, away. 
 
 Where you have your Mistris Sack, 
 Which hath already spoy'ld your back, 
 
 And 
 
Merry Drollery, Complete. 307 
 
 And methinks should be too hot, 
 To be cloystered in a pot. 
 Though you say she is so fair, 
 So lovely, and so debonair, 
 She is but of a yellow hair. 
 
 Sack's a whore which burns like fire, 
 
 Sack consumes and is a dryer ; 
 
 And her waies do only tend 
 
 To bring men unto their end : 
 
 Should I all her vices tell, 
 
 Her rovings and her swearings fell, 
 
 Thou wouldst dam her into Hell. 
 
 Sack which no dart-scorns will blast thee, 
 But upon thy bed still cast thee : 
 And by that impudence doth shew, 
 That no vertue she doth know : 
 For she will, the truth to say, 
 Thy body in an hour decay, 
 More than I can in a day. 
 
 Though for kisses there's no toyl, 
 
 Yet your body she doth spoil : 
 
 Sipping Nectar whilst you sit, 
 
 She doth quite besot your wit : 
 
 Though she is mute, she'll make you loud : 
 
 Brawl and fight in every croud, 
 
 When your reason she doth cloud. 
 
 v 2 Nor 
 
308 The Second part of 
 
 Nor do you ever look to see 
 Any more a smile from me, 
 I'll [ yield ] no liberty, nor sign, 
 Which I truly may call mine. 
 No, no sleight shall win me to't, 
 Tis not all thy parts can do't, 
 Thy Person, nor thy Land to boot, 
 
 Yet if thou wilt take the pain, 
 
 To be sober once again, 
 
 And but make much of thy back, 
 
 I will be instead of Sack. 
 
 Faith but try, and thou shalt see, 
 
 What a loving soul I'll be : 
 
 When thou art drunk with nought but me. 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 SHe that will eat her breakfast in her bed, 
 And spend the morn in dressing of her head, 
 And sit at dinner like a Maiden-bride, 
 And nothing do all day, but talk of pride ; 
 yove of his mercy may do much to save her, 
 But what a case is he in that shall have her. 
 
 St. George 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 309 
 
 St. George for England. 
 
 WHy should we boast of Arthur and his 
 Knights, 
 Knowing so many men have endured hot fights ; 
 Besides King Arthur ; and Sir Lancelot du Lake, 
 Sir Tristram de Lionel, that fought for Ladies sake, 
 Read old Histories, and then you shall see, 
 That St. George, St. George did make the Dragon flee; 
 St. George for England, St. Dennis for France, 
 Sing Hony soit qui mal y pense. 
 
 Mark how father Abraham, when first he rescued Lot, 
 Only by his household what conquest there they got ; 
 David elected a Prophet and a King, 
 He slew great Goliah with a stone and a sling ; 
 These were no Knights of the Table round, 
 I But St. George, St. George the Dragon did confound ; 
 St. George, &c. 
 
 Joshua and Gideon did lead their men to fight, 
 'They conquered the Amorites, and put them to flight; 
 \Hercules labour's upon the Plains of Bass, 
 And Sampson slew a thousand with the jaw bone of 
 Besides a goodly Temple there he did spoyl, (an ass, 
 But St. George, St. George the Dragon he did foyl ; 
 
 St. George, &c. 
 
 v 3 The 
 
310 The Second Part of 
 
 The wars of the Monarchs they were too long to tell[,] 
 And next of all the Romans, for they did far excell, 
 When Hannibal and Sapid so many fields did fight, 
 Orlando Furioso was a worthy Knight ; 
 Remus and Romulus, that first Rome did build, 
 But St. George, St. George did make the dragon yield, 
 St. George, &c. 
 
 Many have fought with proud Tamberlain, 
 And Cutlax the Dane, great wars did maintain, 
 Rowland, and Bryan, and good Sr. Oliveer ; 
 In the forrest of Arden there slew both Bull & Bear, 
 Beside the noble Hollander, Sir Goward with his bill, 
 But St. George, St. George the dragons bloud did spill; 
 St. George, &c. 
 
 Bevis conquered Askupart, and after slew the bore, 
 And then he crost beyond the seas to combate 
 
 with a Moor, 
 Sir Isinbrass & Egleman they were Knights bold[,] 
 And good Sir John Mandevil of travels much have told 
 These were all English Knights that pagans did convert. 
 But St. George, &c. pluckt out the Dragons heart. 
 St. George, &c 
 
 The noble Alphonso, that was the Spanish King, 
 The order of the red scarfs and bedrowl he did bring. 
 He had a troop of mighty Knights, when first he did, 
 begin, 
 
 That 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 3 1 1 
 
 That sought adventures far and nigh what conquest 
 
 they might win, 
 The ranks of the Pagans full oft he put to flight, 
 But St. George, St. George did with the Dragon fight ; 
 St. George, &c. 
 
 The noble Earle of Warwick, that called was Sir Guy; 
 The Infidels and Pagans much he did defie, 
 He slew the Gyant Brandemoor, & after was the death 
 Of the most gastly dun Cow, the divel of Dunsmore 
 
 heath, 
 Besides other noble Deeds he did beyond the seas, 
 But St. George, St. George the Dragon did appease \ 
 St. George, &c. 
 
 Valentine and Orson of King Pipins blood, 
 Alfred and Henry they were Knights good; 
 The four Sons of Anion that fought for Charlemain, 
 Sir Hugo de Bourdeaux, and Godfrey de Bullaign, 
 These were all french Knights that lived in that age, 
 But St. George, St. George the Dragon did asswage \ 
 St. George, &c. 
 
 When at the first K. Richard was King of this Land, 
 He gorged a Lyon with his naked hand ; 
 The noble Duke of Austria nothing he did fear, 
 He killed his Son with a box on the ear, 
 Besides other noble deeds done in the holy-Land, 
 But St. George, St. George the Dragon did withstand \ 
 St. George, &c. 
 
 v 4 When 
 
312 The Second Part of 
 
 When as the third King Edward had conquered all 
 
 France, 
 He quartered their Arms his honour to advance, 
 He ransack' d their Cities, threw their Castles down, 
 And garnished his head with a double double Crown, 
 He thumped the French, & homeward then he came. 
 But St. George, St. George the Dragon he did tame ; 
 St. George, &c. 
 
 St. David of Wales did the Welchmen much advance, 
 St. James for Spain, that never yet broke Lance, 
 St. Patrick for Ireland, that was St. Georges Boy, 
 Seven years he kept his horse, & then stole him away, 
 For which filthy act a slave he doth remain, 
 But St. George, St. George the Dragon he hath slain ; 
 
 St. George for England, St. Denis for France, 
 
 Sing Hony soit qui mal y pense. 
 
 Arthur of Bradly. 
 
 SAw you not Pierce the Piper, 
 His Cheeks as big as a Myter, 
 Piping among the Swains 
 
 That's down in yonder Plains : 
 Where Tib and Tom doth tread it, 
 
 And Youths the hornpipe lead it, 
 With every one his carriage 
 
 To go to yonder Marriage, 
 
 For 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 3 1 3 
 
 For the honour of Arthur of Bradly, 
 
 Oh brave Arthur of Bradly, O fine Arthur of Bradly, 
 O brave Arthur of Bradly, oh. 
 
 Arthur hath gotten a Lass, 
 
 A bonnier never was ; 
 The chiefest youths in the Parish 
 
 Come dancing in a Morris, 
 With Country Gambols flouncing, 
 
 Country Wenches trouncing, 
 Dancing with mickle pride, 
 
 Every man his wench by his side, 
 For the honour of Arthur, &c. 
 
 But when that Arthur was married, 
 
 And his Bride home had carried ; 
 The Youngsters they did wait 
 
 To help to carry up meat : 
 Francis carried the Furmety, 
 
 Michael carried the Mince-pye, 
 Bartholomew the Beef and the Mustard, 
 
 And Christopher carried the Custard, 
 Thus every one went in this Ray, 
 
 For the honour of Arthur of Bradly, Oh fine, arc. 
 
 But when that dinner was ended, 
 
 The Maidens they were befriended ; 
 For out stept Dick the Draper, 
 
 And he bid pipe up scraper ; 
 
 Be 
 
3 14 The Second Part of 
 
 Better to be dancing a little, 
 
 Than into the Town to tipple ; 
 He bid him play him a Horn-pipe, 
 
 That goes fine of the Bagpipe : 
 Then forward Piper, and play 
 
 For the honour of Arthur of Bradly, Oh fine, &*c. 
 
 Then Richard he did lead it, 
 
 And Margery she did tread it ; 
 Francis followed them, 
 
 And after courteous Jane : 
 And every one after another, 
 
 As if they had been sister and brother, 
 That 'twas a great sight to see 
 
 How well they did agree, 
 And then they all did say, 
 
 Hay for Arthur of Bradly, oh fine, &>c. 
 
 When all the Swains did see 
 
 This mirth and merry glee, 
 There was never a man did flinch, 
 
 But every man kist his Wench : 
 But Giles was greedy of gain, 
 
 And he would needs kiss twain ; 
 His Lover, seeing that, 
 
 Did rap him on the pate, 
 That he had not one word to say 
 
 For the honour of Arthur of Bradly, oh fine, &c. 
 
 The 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 315 
 
 The Piper look'd aside, 
 
 And there he spide the Bride ; 
 He thought it was a hard chance 
 
 That none would lead her a dance : 
 For never a man durst touch her, 
 
 But only Will, the Butcher ; 
 He took her by the hand 
 
 And danc'd whilst he could stand ; 
 The Bride was fine and gay, 
 
 For the honour of Arthur of Bradly, Oh fine, &°c. 
 
 Then out stept Will, the Weaver, 
 
 And he swore he'd not leave her ; 
 He hopt it all of a Leg, 
 
 For the honour of his Peg, 
 But Kester in Cambrick Ruffe, 
 
 He took that in snuff : 
 For he against that day 
 
 Had made himself fine and gay ; 
 His Ruff was whipt over with blew, 
 
 He cryed a new dance, a new ; 
 Then forward Piper and play, 
 
 For the honour of Arthur of Bradley, Oh fine, &c. 
 
 Then 'gan the Sun decline, 
 
 And every one thought it time 
 To go unto his home, 
 
 And leave the Bridegroom alone. 
 
 To 
 
3 1 6 The Second Part of 
 
 To \ [,] to % quoth lusty Ned, 
 
 We'll see them both in bed : 
 For I will jeopard a joynt 
 
 But I will get his codpiece point : 
 Then strike up Piper and play, 
 
 For the honour of Arthur of Bradly, oh fine, &c. 
 
 And thus the day was spent, 
 
 And no man homeward went, 
 That there was such crouding and thrusting, 
 
 That some were in danger of bursting, 
 To see them go to bed : 
 
 For all the skill they had, 
 He was got to his Bride, 
 
 And laid him close by her side, 
 They got his Points and Garters, 
 
 And cut them in peeces like quarters ; 
 And then they bid the Piper play, 
 
 For the honour of Arthur of Bradley, oh fine, &c. 
 
 Then Will, and his sweet heart 
 
 Did call for Loath to depart, 
 And then they did foot it and toss it, 
 
 Till the Cook had brought up the posset, 
 The Bride-pye was brought forth, 
 
 A thing of mickle worth, 
 And so all at the bed-side 
 
 Took leave of Arthur and his Bride, 
 
 And 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 317 
 
 And so they went all away 
 
 From the wedding of Arthur of Bradley, oh, &>c. 
 
 On the Printing of the Oxford Jests. 
 
 1 
 
 I Tell thee Kit, where I have been, 
 Where I the rarest Jests have zeen, 
 O Jests without compare, 
 Zuch Jests again cannot be shewn, 
 In Oxford no nor Cambridge town ; 
 They be so very rare. 
 
 2 
 I yesterday did go to buy 
 A book, (thou know'st) for thee and I, 
 
 Of zomething that was pretty, 
 And when poor Robins Jests I zaw, 
 Methoughts they were old, and lean, and raw, 
 
 Not like his Almanachs witty. 
 
 3 
 
 I then did ask for the Oxford Jests, 
 
 Which Kit thou knowest came from the Brests, 
 
 Of our University ; 
 The man to me did then confess, 
 They were not yet come out o' th press, 
 
 Quoth I [,] the more's the pitty. 
 
 At 
 
3 1 8 The Second Part of 
 
 4 
 At last he shew'd the very coppy, 
 Of that i'th press, I'm a very puppy 
 
 Kit, if e'er the like was zeen ; 
 Before I half a score had read, 
 With laughing (if it may be zed) 
 
 I'd like to have broke my spleen. 
 
 5 
 I then did point to read 'um o'er, 
 Zuch Jests I never heard before, 
 
 Fore George tis true our Kit; 
 And e'er that I had read 'um half 
 I found I was so great with laugh, 
 
 I thought my zides would split. 
 
 6 
 
 Then hey for Oxford now I zay [!] 
 Evaith I long to see the day 
 
 That they shall printed be ; 
 Then thee and I will each buy one, 
 For our two sweet hearts Nell and Jone, 
 
 For Mirth and Mellodie, 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 THere was three Cooks in Colebrook, 
 And they fell out with our Cook, 
 And all was for a pudding he took, 
 And from the Cook of Colebrook. 
 
 There 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 319 
 
 There was swash Cook, and flash Cook, 
 And thy Nose in my Narse Cook, 
 And all was for a pudding he took, 
 And from the Cook of Colebrook. 
 Then they fell all upon our Cook, 
 And numbled him so, that he did look 
 As black as the pudding which he took, 
 And from the Cook of Colebrook. 
 
 The Blacksmith. 
 
 OF all the Sciences beneath the Sun. 
 Which have been since the world begun, 
 The Smith by his art great praise hath won, 
 Which no body can deny. 
 
 The fairest Goddess in the skies 
 To marry with him did devise, 
 That was a cunning Smith and wise, 
 Which no body, &°c. 
 
 Then Mars came down for Venus sake, 
 The Smith he did his armour make, 
 In love together he did them take, 
 Which no body, <5rv. 
 
 The first that ever Musick made 
 Was Tubal of the Blacksmiths Trade, 
 
 By 
 
320 The Second Part of 
 
 By hammering strokes as it was said, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 He did invent continually 
 The Iron work for the Country, 
 A Smith for mirth and husbandry, 
 Which no body, 6v. 
 
 What Occupation can you name, 
 But first the Smith must help the same, 
 With working tools their work to frame ? 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 What horse can post to carry news, 
 But first the Smith sets on his shooes, 
 With Spur and Stirrop for mens use ? 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 What Ship upon the Sea can sail, 
 If Iron work in her do fail, 
 Though Anchor hold 'twill not prevail ? 
 Which no body, 6°^. 
 
 What can you build with lime or stone 
 If Iron-work therein be none ? 
 Smiths make for houses many a one, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 How can you go to Plough or Cart, 
 Except the Smith do play his Part, 
 With Coulter and Shaire made well by Art, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 The 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 321 
 
 The Axletree Pin, the plowing Chain, 
 The Bill, the Axe, the Wedges twain, 
 The Pitchfork, and the Dung-fork plain, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 The Butchers Axe, the Shooe-makers Awl, 
 The cutting knives on every stall, 
 That lies to cut and carve withall, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 The Coopers Adds, the Brewers Slings, 
 The Carpenters Tools for many things, 
 The plyers for the Goldsmiths Rings, 
 Which no body, &°c* 
 
 Your Tongs, your Spits, Trevits, and Racks, 
 And many other things that lacks, 
 And for your houses pretty Knacks, 
 Which no body, 6°^. 
 
 Weights and Skales to buy and sell, 
 A thousand things I need not tell, 
 The Smith hath matched all things so well, 
 Which no body, &>c> 
 
 I could rehearse a thousand things, 
 Of iron Bars, Bolts, and Pins, 
 Latches, Catches, Staples, Rings, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 x He 
 
$22 The Second Part of 
 
 He makes all several kinds of Locks, 
 For horses, for doors, for Chest, for Box, 
 For houses, and for Churches Clocks, 
 Which no body, &>c* 
 
 Your fire Irons, small and great, 
 Your pothooks, and forks so fine and neat, 
 Your Jack that turns your spits of meat, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 Your Pavioiirs Pickax, great and small, 
 Your Pattens for women, low and tall ; 
 Your Shovel and Spade to work withall, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 Your branding Iron to brand your Kine, 
 Your Clappers for Bells to ring and chime, 
 Your stamps for Gold and Silver fine, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 The horses Bits, that finely gingle, 
 The Barbers Tools, that is so nimble, 
 The Taylors sheer, his Bodkin and thimble, 
 Which no body, &°c. 
 
 And for all weapons for the fight 
 The Smith I am sure makes such a sight, 
 So long, so strong, so fair, so bright, 
 Which no body, &*c. 
 
 Bills 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 323 
 
 Bills, Pikes, Dags and Guns, 
 Halberts, Spears, and many things, 
 Through the hammer of the Smith all come, 
 Which no body, &>c. 
 
 To love the Smith all Trades are bound, 
 Which make him thus to be renown'd, 
 For which his hammers they are crown'd, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 Of Smiths now living at this hour, 
 There was a Smith within the Tower 
 Which might be counted for a flower, 
 Which no body, &c. 
 
 Thus of my Song I make an end, 
 The Smith is every bodies friend, 
 He seeks his Country to defend, 
 Which no body can deny. 
 
 A North Country Song. 
 
 WHen Ise came first to London Town, 
 Ise wor a Novice, as other men are \ 
 Ise thought the King had liv'd at the Crown, 
 And the way tol heaven had been through the star. 
 x 2 Ise 
 
324 The Second Part of 
 
 Ise set up my horse, and Ise went to Pauls, 
 Good Lord, quoth I, what a Kirk been here ? 
 
 Then Ise did swear by all Kerson souls, 
 It wor a mile long, or very near, 
 
 It v&x as high as any Hill, 
 
 A Hill, quo I, nay as a Mountain, 
 Then went Ise up with a very good will, 
 
 But glad wor I to come down again. 
 
 For as Ise went up my head roe round. 
 
 Then be it known to all Kerson people, 
 A man is no little way fro the ground, 
 
 When he's o' th' top of all Pauls steeple. 
 
 Ise lay down my hot, and Ise went to pray, 
 
 But wor not this a pitious case, 
 Afore I had done it wor stolen away, (place ? 
 
 Who'd have thought theeves had been in that 
 
 Now for my Hot Ise made great moan, 
 
 A stander by unto me said, 
 Thou didst not observe the Scripture aright, 
 
 For thou mun a watcht, as well as pray'd. 
 
 From thence Ise went, and I saw my Lord Mayor, 
 Good lack [!] what a sight was there to see, 
 
 My Lord and his horse were both of a hair, 
 I could not tell which the Mare should be. 
 
 From 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 325 
 
 From thence to Westminster I went, 
 Where many a brave Lawyer I did see, 
 
 Some of them had a bad intent, 
 
 For there my purse was stoln from me. 
 
 To see the Tombs was my desire, 
 
 I went with many brave fellows store [,] 
 
 I gave them a penny that was there hire, 
 And he's but a fool that will give any more. 
 
 Then through the rooms the fellow me led, 
 
 Where all the sights were to be seen, 
 And snuffling told me through the nose, 
 
 What formerly the name of those had been. 
 
 Here lies [,] quoth he, Henry the Third, 
 Thou li'st like a knave, he saies never a word ; 
 
 And here lies Richard the Second interr'd, 
 And here stands good King Edwards Sword. 
 
 Under this Chair lyes Jacobs stone, 
 
 The very same stone lies under the Chair, 
 
 A very good jest, had Jacob but one, 
 
 How got he so many Sons without a pair ? 
 
 I staid not there, but down with the tide 
 I made great haste, and I went my way ; 
 
 For I was to see the Lions beside, 
 And the Paris-garden all in a day. 
 
 x 3 When 
 
326 The Second Part of 
 
 When Ise came there, I was in a rage, 
 I rayl'd on him that kept the Bears, 
 
 Instead of a Stake was suffered a Stage 
 And in Hunkes his house a crue of Players. 
 
 Then through the Brigg to the Tower Ise went, 
 
 With much ado Ise entred in, 
 And after a penny that I had spent, 
 
 One with a loud voice did thus begin. 
 
 This Lyon's the Kings, and that is the Queens, 
 And this the Princes that stands here by, 
 
 With that I went neer to look in the Den [:] 
 Cods body, quoth he, why come you so nigh ? 
 
 Ise made great haste unto my Inne, 
 I supt, and I went to bed betimes, 
 
 Ise slept, and I dream'd what I had seen, 
 And wak'd again by Cheapside Chimes. 
 
 The Merry Goodfellow, 
 
 WHy should we not laugh and be jolly, 
 Since all the World is mad ? 
 And lulFd in a dull melancholly ; 
 He that wallows in store 
 Is still gaping for more, 
 And that makes him as poor, 
 As the wretch that ne'er anything had. 
 
 How 
 
Merry Drollery, Complete, 327 
 
 How mad is that damn'd money-monger ? 
 That to purchase to him and his heirs 
 Grows shriviled with thirst and hunger ; 
 
 While we that are bonny, 
 
 Buy Sack with ready-money, 
 And ne'er trouble the Scriveners, nor Lawyers. 
 
 Those guts that by scraping and toyling, 
 
 Do swell their Revenues so fast, 
 
 Get nothing by all their turmoiling, 
 But are marks of each taxe, 
 While they load their own backs 
 With the heavier packs, 
 
 And lye down gall'd and weary at last 
 
 While we that do traffick in tipple, 
 Can baffle the Gown and the Sword, 
 Whose jaws are so hungry and gripple, 
 
 We ne'er trouble our heads 
 
 With Indentures or Deeds, 
 And our wills are compos'd in a word* 
 
 Our money shall never indite us, 
 Nor drag us to Goldsmiths Hall, 
 No Pyrats nor wracks can affright us ; 
 
 We, that have no Estates, 
 
 Fear no plunder nor rates, 
 
 We can sleep with open gates, 
 
 He that lies on the ground cannot fall. 
 
 x 4 We 
 
328 The Second Part of 
 
 We laugh at those fools whose endeavours 
 Do but fit them for Prisons and Fines, 
 When we that spend all are the savers ; 
 For if the thieves do break in, 
 They go out empty agin, 
 Nay, the Plunderers lose their designs. 
 
 Then let us not think on to morrow, 
 But tipple and laugh while we may, 
 To wash from our hearts all sorrow ; 
 Those Cormorants which 
 Are troubled with an itch, 
 To be mighty and rich, 
 Do but toyl for the wealth they do borrow. 
 
 The Mayor in our Town with his Ruff on, 
 
 What a pox is he better than me ? 
 
 He must vail to the man with his Buff on ; 
 Though he Custard may eat 
 And such lubbardly meat, 
 
 Yet our Sack makes us merrier than he. 
 
 The Rebels Reign. 
 
 NOw we are met, in a knot, let's take t'other pot, 
 And chirp o'r a Cup of Nectar ; 
 Let's think on a charm to keep us from harm, 
 From the Fiend, and the new Protector. 
 
 Heretofore 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 329 
 
 Heretofore at a brunt a Cross would have done % 
 But now they have taken courses, (left 
 
 With their Laws and their theft, there's not a cross 
 In the Church, nor the Farmers purses. 
 
 They're with you to bring for a stuffing at a King, 
 
 For now you must make no dainty, 
 To have your nose ground on a stone turned round 
 
 By Nbl, and one and twenty. 
 
 But our Rights are kept for us in Oliver's store-house 
 'Twere as good they were set in the stocks ; 
 
 They are just in the pickle in the thirtieth Article, 
 Like Jack in a Juglers box. 
 
 We are loth to look for the Saints in a book, 
 
 But would not a man be vext, 
 To see them so rough with the blades and their buff, 
 
 But not a word on't in the Text 
 
 We have been twelve years together by the ears 
 
 To prepare for a spiritual raign : 
 Men were never so spic'd with the Scepter of Christ 
 
 In the hands of a Saint in grain. 
 
 ; Twas brew'd in their Hives by Citizens wives, 
 
 Who ventured their husbands far, 
 With Robin the fool there was ne'r such a tool 
 
 To lead in the womens war. 
 
 He 
 
330 The Second Part of 
 
 He was ill at Command, but worse at a stand, 
 
 So they sought out another more able : 
 Then Fair, undertakes, but Nol keeps the stakes, 
 
 And sends away Fox with a bauble. 
 
 (on'd, 
 Wil, Conqueror the second, without his host reck- 
 
 And so did Brown billet his Mate: 
 They made a great noise mongst women and boys, 
 
 But now they are both out of date. 
 
 Cowardly W had but a foule Fortune, 
 
 And wanted a knife to scrape it, 
 When his Oriphice ran there was no mortal man, 
 
 But omnibus horis sap if 
 
 Bradshaw, the Knave, sent the King to his grave, 
 
 And on the bloud Royal did trample, 
 For which the next Lent he was made President, 
 
 And ere long may be made an example. 
 
 Dorislaus did steer to Hans mine beer. 
 
 And Askew to Don at Madrid (patcht, 
 
 Ere a man could have scratcht they were both dis- 
 
 Yet there they lye Leger still. 
 
 Martin and St. Johns, and more with a vengeance, 
 
 Had each a finger i'th' pye : 
 Some for the money, and some for the Conny, 
 
 And some for they knew not why. 
 
 The 
 
Merry D r oiler ie, Complete, 331 
 
 The Parliament sate as snug as a Cat, 
 And were playing for mine and yours : 
 
 Sweep-stakes was their Game till Oliver came, 
 And turn'd it to knave out of doors. 
 
 Then a new one was cast, and made up in hast, 
 
 But alas [!] they could do no more 
 Than empty our purse, and empty us worse 
 
 Than e'r we were marred before. 
 
 But in a good hour they gave up their power 
 
 To one that was wiser than they ; 
 By common consent 'twas the first Parliament 
 
 That ever w&sfelo de se. 
 
 After all this Jeer we are never the near, 
 There sits one at the helm commanding ; 
 
 One that doth us nick with a trick for our trick, 
 And the stone in our foot notwithstanding. 
 
 He'l not relax one groat of the Tax 
 Though it come to more than he need, 
 
 He may keep it in store till his need be more, 
 'Tis an Article of our new Creed. 
 
 So well he hath wrought, that now he hath brought 
 The Realm to the manner he meant it ; 
 
 The Fishes, and the fowl, and the divel and all 
 And the monthly pay his high rent. 
 
 All 
 
332 The Second Part of 
 
 All this we must bear, but 'twould make a man swear 
 When they call us a reformed Nation : 
 
 It can never sink into my head for to think 
 That this is a Reformation. 
 
 Tis the man in the Moon, or the divel as soon, 
 
 Our Laws are asleep upon shelves : 
 Our Charter and Freedom we may bid God speed 'urn, 
 
 'Tis well we can beg for our selves. 
 
 Since Nol hath bereft us, and nothing hath left us, 
 Not a Horse or an Oxe to plough land ; 
 
 Let Oliver pass, come fill up my glass, 
 And here's a good health to Rowland. 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 HAve you observ'd the wench in the street, 
 She's scarce any hose or shooes to her feet ; 
 And when she cries, she sings, 
 I have hot Codlings, hot Codlings. 
 
 Or have you ever seen or heard, 
 The mortal with his Lyon tauny beard ! 
 
 He lives as merrily as heart can wish, 
 
 And still he cries, Buy a brush, buy a brush. 
 
 Since 
 
Merry D r oiler ie, Complete. 333 
 
 Since these are merry, why should we take care ? 
 
 Musitians, like Camelions, must live by the Aire ; 
 And let's be blithe and bonny, & no good meeting 
 
 balk, (Chalk. 
 
 What though we have no money, we shall find 
 
 A new Medley. 
 
 The English. T Et the Trumpet sound, 
 
 JL/ And the Rocks rebound, 
 
 Our English Native's coming ; 
 
 Let the Nations swarm, 
 And the Princes storm, 
 
 We value not their drumming. 
 
 'Tis not France, that looks so smug, 
 
 Old fashions still renewing, 
 
 It is not the Spanish shrug, 
 
 Scottish Cap, or Irish rug ; 
 
 Nor the Dutch-mans double jug 
 
 Can help what is ensuing ; 
 
 Pray, my Masters, look about, 
 
 For something is a Brewing. 
 
 I He that is a Favorite consulting with Fortune, 
 If he grow not wiser, then he's quite undon; 
 In a rising creature we daily see certainly, 
 
 I He is a retreater that fails to go on : 
 
 He 
 
334 The Second Part of 
 
 He that in a builders trade 
 Stops e're the roof be made, 
 By the Air may be betray'd 
 
 And overthrown : 
 He that hath a race begun, 
 And lets the Goal be won ; 
 He had better never run. 
 
 But let ? t alone. 
 
 Then plot rightly, 
 
 March sightly, 
 Shew your glittering Arms brightly : 
 
 Charge hightly ; 
 
 Fight sprightly ; 
 Fortune gives renown. 
 
 A right riser 
 
 Will prize her, 
 She makes all the world wiser ; 
 
 Still try her, 
 
 We'll gain by her, 
 A Coffin or a Crown. 
 
 If the Dutchman or the Spaniard 
 
 Come but to oppose us, 
 
 We will thrust them up at the main-yard 
 If they do but nose us : 
 
 Hans, Hans, think upon thy sins, 
 
 And then submit to Spam thy Master ; 
 
 For though now you look like friends, 
 
 Yet 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete, 335 
 
 Yet he will never trust you after ; 
 Drink, drink, give the Dutchman drink, 
 And let the tap and kan run faster ; 
 For faith at the last I think 
 A Brewer will become your Master, 
 
 Let not poor Teg and Shone 
 
 Vender from der houses, 
 
 Lest dey be quite undone 
 
 In der very Trouses : 
 
 And all der Orphans bestow'd under hatches, 
 
 And made in London free der to cry matches ; 
 
 St. Patrick wid his Harp do tun'd wid tru string 
 
 Is not fit to unty St. Hewsorts shooe-strings. 
 
 Methinks I hear 
 
 The welch draw near, 
 And from each lock a louse trops 3 
 
 Ap Shon, ap ZZoyd, 
 
 Will spend her ploot, 
 For to defend her mouse-traps : 
 Mounted on her Kifflebagh 
 With cott store of Koradagh, 
 The Prittish war begins. 
 
 With a hook her was overcome her, 
 Pluck her to her, thrust her from her, 
 By cot her was break her shins. 
 
 Let Tame fret, 
 
 And welch-hook whet 
 
 And 
 
336 The Second Part of 
 
 And troop up petigrees, 
 
 We only tout 
 
 Tey will stink us out, 
 Wit Leeks and toasted Sheeze. 
 
 But Jockie now and Jinny comes, 
 
 Our Brethren must approve on't ; 
 
 For pret a Cot dey bert der drums 
 
 Only to break de Couvenant. 
 
 Dey bore Saint Andrew's Cross, 
 
 Till our army quite did rout dem, 
 
 But when we put dem to de loss, 
 
 De deal a Cross about dem : 
 
 The King and Couvenant they crave, 
 
 Their cause must needs be furthered [,] 
 
 Although so many Kings they have 
 
 Most barbarously, basely murthered. 
 
 The French. The Frenchman he will give consent, 
 Though he tickle in our veins ; 
 
 That willingly 
 
 We may agree, 
 To a marriage with grapes and grains : 
 
 He conquers us with kindness, 
 
 And doth so far entrench, 
 That fair, and wise, and young, and rich, 
 
 Are finified by the French : 
 
 He prettifies us with Feathers and Fans, 
 
 With Petticoats, Doublets, and Hose, 
 
 And 
 
Merry D roller ie, Complete. 337 
 
 And faith they shall 
 
 Be welcome all 
 If they forbear the nose. 
 
 For love or for fear, 
 
 Let Nations forbear ; 
 If Fortune exhibit a Crown, 
 
 A Coward he 
 
 Must surely be, 
 That will not put it on. 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 SHew a Room, shew a Room, shew a Room, 
 Here's a Knot of Good fellows are come, 
 That mean for to be merry 
 With Clarret and with Sherry \ 
 Each man to mirth himself disposes, 
 And for the Reckoning tell Noses ; 
 Give the Red-Nose some White, 
 And the Pale-Nose some Clarret, 
 But the Nose that looks Blew, 
 Give him a Cup of Sack, 'twill mend his hew. 
 
 w 
 
 The Contented. 
 
 Hy should a man care, or be in despair, 
 Should Fortune prove never so unkind ? 
 Y [Or] 
 
338 The Second Part of 
 
 Or why should Ibe sad for that I never had, 
 Or foolishly trouble my mind ? 
 For I do much hate to pine at my Fate, 
 There's none but a fool will do so : 
 I'll laugh and be fat, for care kills a Cat, 
 And I care not howe're the world go. 
 
 Though I am poor, and others have store, 
 Why should I repine at their bliss ? 
 For I am content with what God hath sent, 
 And I think I do not amiss : 
 Let others have wealth, for I have health, 
 And money to pay what I owe, 
 I'll laugh, and be merry, and sing hey down, down 
 For I care not, &>c. (derry, 
 
 Some men do suppose, even by their gay Cloaths, 
 For to be in great request ; 
 Though mine be but bare, I am not o' th' show, 
 And I think myself honestly drest; 
 Though every man cannot say so, 
 I like that I wear, though it cost not so dear, 
 For I care not, &c. 
 
 
 Your Epicure eats of the best sort of meat 
 And wine of the best he doth drink, 
 And laies him to rest, and thinks himself blest, 
 On heaven he never doth think ; 
 
 Though 
 
Merry Drollery, Complete, 339 
 
 Though my fare be but course, I am not the worse, 
 My health is the better I know ; 
 Though plain be my food, my stomach is good, 
 And I care not, &>c. 
 
 Your flattering Curs, that fawn upon Furs, 
 And hang at Noble mens ears, 
 If once they do fall, away they run all, 
 And this is their flattering fears : 
 Dissembling I scorn, for I am free born, 
 My happiness lies not below ; 
 
 Though my words want Art, I speak from my heart, 
 I care not, &>c. 
 
 Some men do strive, and mightily thrive, 
 And some for Offices wait, 
 Much money they spend, and to little end, 
 And repent then when it's too late ; 
 Low shrubs are secure, when Cedars endure 
 Great storms and tempests below, 
 Let others look high, for so will not I, 
 And I care not howe're the world go. 
 
 How to live happy. 
 
 HE that a happy life would lead 
 In these times of distraction, 
 Let him listen to me, and I will read 
 A Lecture without faction ; 
 
 y 2 Let 
 
340 The Second Part of 
 
 Let him want three things, whence misery springs. 
 They all begin with a letter, 
 
 Let him bound his desires to what nature requires, 
 And with reason his humour fetter. 
 
 Let not his wealth prodigious grow, 
 
 For that breeds cares and dangers ; 
 
 Makes him envied above and hated below, 
 
 A constant slave to strangers ; 
 
 They are happiest of all whose estates are but small, 
 
 Though but enough to maintain them, 
 
 They may do, they may say, having nothing to pay, 
 
 It will not quit cost to arraign them. 
 
 Nor would I have him clogg'd with a wife, 
 
 For household cares incumber, 
 
 Nor to one place to confine his life, 
 
 Cause he can't remove his Lumber ; 
 
 They are happiest far who unmarried are, 
 
 And forrage, and all in common, 
 
 From all storms they can flye, or if they should die, 
 
 They mine no child nor woman. 
 
 Let not his brains or'flow with wit, 
 
 That capers o'r discretion, 
 
 It's costly to keep, and hard to get, 
 
 And dangerous in the possession ; 
 
 They are happiest men that can scarce tell ten, 
 
 And 
 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 341 
 
 And beat not their brains about reason, (serve, 
 
 They may speak what will serve themselves to pre- 
 And their words are not taken for treason. 
 
 But of all fools there's none to the wit, 
 
 For he takes pains to shew it, 
 
 His pride and his drink bring him into a fit, 
 
 Then streight he turns a Poet : 
 
 His jests he flings at States, or at Kings, 
 
 Or at Plays, or at Bays, or at shadows, 
 
 Thinks a Verse serves as well as a Circle or Cell, 
 
 Till he rimes himself to the Barbadows. 
 
 He that within these Lines can live, 
 
 May baffle all disasters, 
 
 To Fortune and Fate commands he can give, 
 
 Who[m] Wor[l]dlings call their Masters ; 
 
 He may sing, he may quaff, he may drink, he may 
 
 May be mad, may be sad, may be jolly, (laugh, 
 
 He may sleep without care and speak without fear, 
 
 And laugh at the world and its folly. 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 WHat Fortune had I, poor Maid as I am, 
 To be bound in eternal vow, 
 For ever to lye by the side of a man, 
 That would, but knows not how ? 
 
 y 3 Ok 
 
342 The Second Part of 
 
 Oh can there no pity 
 Be in such a City, 
 Where Lads enough are to be had. 
 
 Unfortunate Girl, that art wed to such woe, 
 
 Go seek thee a lively Lad, 
 And let the poor that hath nothing to shew 
 Go seek for another as bad ; 
 
 Then call for no pity [,] 
 Thou dweltst in a City, 
 Where Lads enough were to be had. 
 
 Advice to Batchelors. 
 
 HE that intends to take a Wife, 
 I'll tell him what a kind of life 
 He must be sure to lead ; 
 If she's a young and tender heart, 
 Not documented in Loves Art, 
 
 Much teaching she will need. 
 
 But where there is no path, one may 
 Be tir'd before he find the way, 
 
 Nay, when he's at his treasure, 
 The gap perhaps will prove so straight, 
 That he for entrance long may wait, 
 
 And make a toyl of's pleasure. 
 
 Or 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 343 
 
 Or if one old, and past her doing, 
 He will the Chamber-maid be wooing, 
 
 To buy her ware the cheaper, 
 But if he chuse one most formose, 
 Ripe for't, she'll prove libidinous, 
 
 Argus himself shan't keep her. 
 
 For when those things are neatly drest, 
 They'l entertain each wanton guest, 
 Nor for their honour care, 
 If any give their pride a fall, 
 Th' have learn'd a trick to bear withal, 
 So you their charges bear. 
 
 So if you chance to play your game 
 With a dull, fat, gross, heavy Dame, 
 
 Your riches to encrease, 
 Alas ! she will but jear you for't, 
 Bid you to find out better sport, 
 
 Lie with a pot of grease. 
 
 If meager be thy delight, 
 
 She'l conquer in venerial fight, 
 
 And waste thee to the bones : 
 Such kind of girles, like to your Mill, 
 The more you give, the more crave they will, 
 
 Or else they'l grind the stones. 
 
 Y4 
 
344 Tlie Second Part of 
 
 If black, 'tis ods she's dev'lish proud, 
 If short, Zantippe like, too loud, 
 
 If long, she'l lazy be, 
 Foolish (the Proverb saith) if fair, 
 If wise and comely, danger's there, 
 
 Lest she do cuckold thee. 
 
 If she bring store of money, such 
 Are like to domineer too much, 
 
 Prove Mistris, no good wife, 
 And when they cannot keep you under, 
 They'l fill the house with scolding thunder 
 
 What worse than such a life ; 
 
 But if her Dowry only be 
 Beauty, farewel felicity, 
 
 Thy fortunes cast away. 
 Thou must be sure to satisfie her 
 In belly, and in back-desire, 
 
 To labour night and day. 
 
 And rather than her pride give o'r, 
 She'l turn perhaps an honoured whore, 
 
 And thou'lt Acteoiid be, 
 Whilst like Acteo?i thou maist weep, 
 To think thou forced art to keep 
 
 Such as devour thee. 
 
 If 
 
Merry Dr oiler ie y Complete. 345 
 
 If being noble thou dost wed 
 A servile Creature, basely bred, 
 
 Thy Family it defaces ; 
 If being mean, one nobly born, 
 She'l swear t' exalt a Courtlike horn, 
 
 Thy low descant it graces. 
 
 If one tongue be too much for any, 
 Then he who takes a wife with many, 
 
 Knows not what may betide him ; 
 She whom he did for learning honour, 
 To scold by book will take upon her, 
 
 Rhetorically chide him. 
 
 If both her Parents living are, 
 
 To please them you must take great care, 
 
 Or spoyl your future fortune, 
 But if departed th' are this life, 
 You must be parent to your wife, 
 
 And father all, be certain. 
 
 If bravely drest, fair fac'd and witty, 
 She'l oft be gadding to the City, 
 
 Nor may you say her nay, 
 She'l tell you (if you her deny) 
 Since women have Terms, she knows not why, 
 
 But they still keep them may. 
 
 If 
 
346 The Second Part of 
 
 If you make choice of Country ware, 
 Of being Cuckold there's less fear, 
 
 But stupid honesty 
 May teach her how to sleep all night ; 
 And take a great deal more delight 
 
 To milk the Cows than thee. 
 
 Concoction makes their blood agree 
 Too near, where's consanguinity ; 
 
 Then let no kin be chosen : 
 He loseth one part of his treasure, 
 Who thus confineth all his pleasure 
 
 To th' arms of his first Couzen. 
 
 He'll never have her at command, 
 Who takes a wife at second hand ; 
 
 Then chuse no widdowed mother : 
 The first cut, of that bit you love, 
 If others had, why mayn't you prove 
 
 But taster to another ? 
 
 Besides, if she bring children many, 
 'Tis like by thee she'l not have any, 
 
 But prove a barren Doe \ 
 Or if by them, she ne'r had one, 
 By thee 'tis likely she'l have none, 
 
 Whilst thou for weak back go. 
 
 For 
 
Merry Drollerie y Complete. 347 
 
 For there where other Gard'ners have been sowing 
 Their seed, but ne'r could find it growing [,] 
 
 You must expect so too ; 
 And where the Terra incognita 
 S' o'rplow'd, you must it fallow lay, 
 
 And still for weak back go. 
 
 Then trust not to a maiden face, 
 Nor confidence in widdows place, 
 
 Those weaker vessels may 
 Spring-leak, or split against a rock, 
 And when your Fame's wrapt in a smock, 
 
 J Tis easily cast away. 
 
 Yet be she fair, foul, short, or tall, 
 You for a time may love them all, 
 
 Call them your soul, your life, 
 And one by one them undermine, 
 As Courtizan, or Concubine, 
 
 But never as married wife. 
 He who considers this, may end the strife, 
 Confess no trouble like unto a Wife. 
 
348 The Second Part of 
 
 A Catch. 
 
 IF any so wise is, that Sack he despises, 
 Let him drink small beer, and be sober, 
 Whilst we drink Sack and sing, as if it were spring, 
 He shall droop like the Trees in October. 
 But be sure if over night this dog do you bite, 
 You take it henceforth for a warning, 
 Soon as out of your bed, to settle your head, 
 Take a hair of his tail in the morning. 
 And be not so silly to follow old Lilly, 
 For there's nothing but Sack that can tune us, 
 Let his Ne-assuescas be put in his cap case, 
 And sing bi-bi-to vtnum Jejunus. 
 
 A Mock Song. 
 
 WHen I a Lady do intend to flatter 
 Oh, how I do begin to chatter ; 
 I swear and vow 
 How much I'd do, 
 
 That I might once get at her 
 
 I 
 
Merry Drollerie, Complete. 349 
 
 I say to kiss her only is a Feast, 
 A Cupids Beaver at the least, 
 Whilst silly she 
 
 Believeth me, 
 
 And thinks I love her best. 
 
 With those fair phansies which most comely are, 
 I oft her Ladyship compare ; 
 I say the Rose 
 
 And Lilly, when it blowes, 
 
 Are nothing near so fair. 
 
 Yet gazing on her face I've spent some hours, 
 Consulted with each cheek, and all its powers, 
 But there none grew, 
 
 Unless below, 
 
 In pleasures garden - spring her flowers. 
 
 Oft have I call'd her Jewel, oft have I 
 CalFd true, the false pearls of her eye, 
 Yet precious stone 
 
 She will have none, 
 
 Until with me she lie. 
 
 With what pure whiteness is her bosome blest, 
 Oft cry I, yet I do but jest ; 
 
 For sure I'm still, 
 She never will, 
 
 Untill I s — — her have a milk white breast. 
 
 Then 
 
350 The Second Part of, &c. 
 
 Then tell her by the rowling of her eyes, 
 
 I gues her secret rarities, 
 
 Swear he who enjoy es 
 Those pleasant toyes, 
 Ought much to esteem the prize. 
 
 Thus Ladies have I learn'd in Cupids schools, 
 My Master Ovids Grammer Rules : 
 Thus can I prove 
 
 I am in love, 
 
 And thus I make ye fools. 
 
 FINIS 
 
[35i] 
 
 The Contents of the First Part. 
 
 [Edition 1691,] Page 
 
 ^T" Ow I confess I am in love ... ... [7] 
 
 Be merry in sorrow », why are you so sad [9] 
 
 Amerillis told her swaine 
 
 Call for the Master oh this is fine 
 
 Once was I sad till I grew to be mad . , 
 
 When first Mardike was made a Prey. 
 
 Of all the Crafts that I do know 
 
 The thirsty Earth drinks up the Rain . 
 
 To friend a?id to foe 
 
 The Fashions [: The Turk in linen, &c, 
 
 Tobacco that is withered quite ... 
 
 There was a jovial Tinker 
 
 Now Gentlemen if you will hear 
 
 The Hunt is up... 
 
 Of an old Souldier of the Queen 
 
 If thou wilt know how to chuse a shrew 
 
 Come my delicate bonny sweet Betty 
 
 Nay, prethee dontfly me, &c. . . . 
 
 A fox a fox up Gallants to the field 
 
 Ah Ah come see what's here 
 
 [10] 
 
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 9 
 
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 23 
 
 25 
 26 
 27 
 29 
 3° 
 3 1 
 32 
 34 
 36 
 38 
 40 
 
 Let 
 
[3S 2 ] The Contents. 
 
 Let dogs and dwells dye ... ... ... 41 
 
 A young man that in Love &c, ... ... ... 42 
 
 There dwelt a maid &c. ... ... ... ... 46 
 
 The spring is coming on and our bloud &c, ... 47 
 
 Doctors lay by your Lrksome books ... ... 48 
 
 There was an old man &c. ... ... ... 52 
 
 Come Jack lets drink, or the Cavaleers complaint 52 
 
 The Answer to it [: / marvel, Dick, &c] ... 54 
 
 All in the land of 'Essex ... ... ... 56 
 
 My Mistris is a Shittle- Cock ... ... ... 60 
 
 Will you hear a strange thi?ig &c ... ... 62 
 
 Of nothing a new song [: Tie sing you a Sonnet] 66 
 
 Bacchus Lam come from &c. ... ... ... 69 
 
 Be not thou so foolish nice ... ... ... 69 
 
 Aske me no more [why there appears] &c. ... 70 
 
 A Sessions was held the other day ... ... 72 
 
 / came unto a Puritan to woe ... ... ... 77 
 
 Good Lord what a pass is this world &c ... 79 
 
 Walking abroad in a morning ... ... ... 81 
 
 Ln Eighty Eight &c. ... ... ... ... 82 
 
 Nay out upon this fooling for shame ... ... 84 
 
 Lf every woman was served in her kind ... 85 
 
 Some Christia7i People all give ear ... ... 87 
 
 Come my Daphne come away ... ... ... 91 
 
 Cast your Caps and cares away ... ... 92 
 
 When first the Scottish war began ... ... 93 
 
 My Brethren all attend ... ... ... 95 
 
 Come lefs drink the ti7ne invites ... ... 97 
 
 Ln the merry month of May ... ... ... 99 
 
 Roome 
 
The Contents. 
 
 [353] 
 
 Roomefor the best of Poets Heroick i oo 
 
 / tell thee Dick where I have been ... ... i o i 
 
 How happy is the prisoner &c. ... ... 107 
 
 L met with the divel in the shape of a Ram ... 109 
 
 The world's a bubble, &c ... ... ... no 
 
 The Proctors are two and no more ... ... in 
 
 My Mistris whom in heart &c. ... ... 113 
 
 Tis not the Silver nor Gold ... ... ... 115 
 
 After so many sad mishaps 118 
 
 Come lets purge our brains ... ... ... 121 
 
 Wliat though the [ill] times ... ... ... 124 
 
 Lay by your pleading [Law lies, &c. ] . . . ... 125 
 
 L am a bonny scot ... ... ... ... 127 
 
 ril tell thee a story, &c. ... ... ... 131 
 
 Pll go no more to the old Exchange ... ... 134 
 
 Lets call and drink the Celler [dry] ... ... 138 
 
 There is [a] lusty Liquor ... ... ... 140 
 
 Three merry lads met at the Rose ... ... 143 
 
 Of all the Recreations which ... ... [146] 130 
 
 Tom and Will were shepherds ... ... 1 49 
 
 Wake all you dead what O ... ... [ I S I ] 1 Z 1 
 
 There [is] a certain idle kind of creature [ I 5 2 ] x 55 
 
 The Bow Goose [: The best of Poets, &c] ... 153 
 
 ,News[i] White Bears, &c [ I S9] J 53 
 
 We seamen are the bonny boys ... ... 162 
 
 My Mistris is in Musick passing, &c ... 163 
 
 When the Chill charakoe blows ... ... 164 
 
 , Now thanks to the powers below ... ... 166 
 
 , A maiden of late &c 170 
 
 z After 
 
 
[354] The Contents. 
 
 After the pains of a desperate Lover ... ... 171 
 
 Blind fortune if thou want s[t] ... ... 172 
 
 From Mahomet a?id Paganisme ... ... 174 
 
 God bless my good Lord [Bishop] ... ... 177 
 
 Of all the rare sciences ... ... ... 178 
 
 Heard you not lately of a man ... ... 1 80 
 
 The Medly of the Country man Citizen and souldier 182 
 
 No man loves fiery passion can approve ... 187 
 
 When blind God Cupid &c ... 188 
 
 Come Drawer come fill us &c. ... ... 190 
 
 Lay by your pleading [Love lies, &c] ... 191 
 
 Bring forth your Cunny skin..* ... ... 196 
 
 Fro7ii hunger and cold &c. ... ... ... 197 
 
 Roomefor a. Gamester. .. ... ... ... 197 
 
 Gather your Rose buds ... ... ... 199 
 
 A story strange 1 will you tell ,.. ... 200 
 
 I am a Rogue and a stout one ... ... 204 
 
 Stay shut the Gate .... .... ... ... 207 
 
 The Second Part. 
 
 Hold quajfe no mo?'e ... ... ... ... 210 
 
 Had she not care enough ... ... ... 211 
 
 Here's a health to his Majesty ... ... 212 
 
 But since it was [lately\ enacted high Treason 212 
 
 Cock Laurel [would needs have:] by Ben Johnson 214 
 
 A fig for care [why should we spare] ... ... 217 
 
 Let Souldiers fight for praise, &c. ... ... 218 
 
 Neer 
 
The Contents. [355] 
 
 Nier trouble thy self at the times ... ... 219 
 
 Three merry boys came out of the West ... 220 
 
 Calm was the Evening ... ... ... 220 
 
 There's many a blinking Verse &c ... ... 221 
 
 The Blacksmith [.* Of all the Trades] ... 225 
 
 Come my dainty doxes ... . . . ... 230 
 
 Come Imp Royal &c. ... ... 231 
 
 The Wisemen [were but seven] ... ... 232 
 
 How poor is his spirit, &c ... ... ... 232 
 
 \Am\ I am mad noble Festus ... ... 234 
 
 / dote I dote but am a fool &c. ... ... 237 
 
 Ladies I do here present ... ... ... 240 
 
 The Combate of Cocks [.• Go yoic tame Gallants] 242 
 
 Come let 's f rollick fill some Sack . . . ... 246 
 
 What is that you call a Maidenhead ... ... 249 
 
 WJien Phoebus addrest &c. ... ... .... 250 
 
 A Brewer may be a Burgess grave ... ... 252 
 
 Oliver Oliver [take up thy crown] .... ... 254 
 
 When I do travell in the night. ... .... 255 
 
 Sir Eglamore [that valiant Knight] ... ... 257 
 
 If none be offended &c . . . . . . ... . . .. 259 
 
 \ Come drawer and fill us &*c ... ... .... 263 
 
 The Bulls feather [: It chanced not long ago] ... 264 
 
 You talk of new England ... ... ... 266 
 
 1 Come drawer turn about the Bowie .... ... 268 
 
 . Pray why shoitld any man complain .... ... 270 
 
 , What an ass is he ... ...... ... ... 273 
 
 My masters give audience .... ... ... 275 
 
 i The Aphorismes of Galen ... ... ... 277 
 
 z 2 Now 
 
[356] 
 
 The Contents. 
 
 Now I am merrier [i.e. married] Sir John 
 
 / have reason to fly thee 
 
 I have the fairest Non-perel . . . 
 
 Are you grown so melancholly . . . 
 
 Sublimest discretions have climVd &c 
 
 A pox on the Jay lor ... 
 
 My lodging is on the cold ground 
 
 From t lie fair Lavinian shore... 
 
 Fetch me Ben Johnsons scull &c. 
 
 Now that the spring &c. 
 
 Of all the sports in the world . . . 
 
 The wily wily Fox 
 
 She lay all naked &c. 
 
 Some wives are good &c 
 
 Call George again 
 
 Pox take your Mistris.. 
 
 The Answer [: I pray thee, Drunkard,] 
 
 She that will eat her breakfast 
 
 St. George for England [: Why should we, 
 
 Arthur of Bradley [Saw you not Pierce] 
 
 On the Oxford yeasts [: I tell thee, Kit,] 
 
 There were three Cooks in Colebrook 
 
 The Blacksmith [: Of all the Sciences] 
 
 When Ise came first to London Town 
 
 The merry good fellow [: Why should we not 
 
 The Rebels Reign [: Now we are met] 
 
 Have you observed the wench in the street 
 
 A n£W Medley [: Let the trumpet sound] 
 
 Shew a Room shew a Room &c. 
 
 280 
 281 
 283 
 286 
 288 
 289 
 290 
 291 
 
 293 
 296 
 296 
 300 
 300 
 301 
 304 
 304 
 306 
 308 
 
 309 
 312 
 
 3i7 
 
 ... 318 
 
 319 
 
 3^3 
 laugh] 2>2& 
 326 
 332 
 333 
 339 
 Why 
 
 &c] 
 
The Contents. 
 
 [357] 
 
 Why should a man care or be in despair 
 
 He that a happy life would lead 
 
 What fortune had I, poor maid that I am 
 
 He that intends to take a wife. 
 
 If any so wise is, that Sack he despises 
 
 A mock Song [: When J a Lady, &c] 
 
 ibid 
 339 
 34i 
 342 
 
 347 
 348 
 
 [The Editor felt compelled to retain the present Table of Con- 
 tents, since it appeared in the original, although it is less convenient 
 than A Table of First Lines alphabetically arranged. But such a 
 table (marking, by distinct class of type, which songs appeared 
 only in the 1661 edition) will be given in the next volume, for 
 the present work inclusive.] 
 
 Books 
 
[358] 
 
 Books Printed for, or sold by Simon 
 Miller, at the Star at the West-end 
 of St. Pauls. 
 
 Quarto. 
 
 PHysical Experiments, being a Plain Description 
 of the Causes, Signs, and Cures of most Disea- 
 ses incident to the body of man ; with a Dis- 
 course of Witchcraft. By William Drage, Practitioner 
 of Physick at Hitchin in Hartfordshire. 
 
 Bishop White, upon the Sabbath. , 
 
 The Artificial Changeling. 
 The life of Tamerlain. 
 
 The Pragmatical yesuite. A Play by Richard Car- 
 penter. 
 
 Large Octavo. 
 
 Mr. Shepherd, on the Sabbath. 
 The Rites of the Crown of England, as it is esta- 
 blished 
 
[359] 
 
 blished by Law ; By E. Bagshaw of the Inner-Temple \ 
 An Enchiridion of fortification. 
 Merry Drollery Compleat. 
 
 Small Octavo. 
 Butler, of War. 
 Ramsey, of Poysons. 
 Artimedorus, of Dreams. 
 Record, of Urines. 
 The History of Fortunatus. 
 The History of Daphnis and Cloe. 
 
 Large Twelves. 
 
 Oxford J easts. 
 
 Dr. Smith 's Practice of Physick. 
 
 The third part of the Bible and New Testament. 
 
 The duty of every one that will be saved ? being 
 Rules, Precepts, Promises, and examples, Directing 
 all Persons of what degree soever, how to govern 
 their Passions, and to live virtuously and soberly in 
 the World. Dr. Sfiurstow's Meditations. 
 
 Small Twelves. 
 
 The understanding - Christians - Duty. 
 
 A Help to Prayer. 
 
 ■ 
 
 Hell Torments Shaken. 
 
 A New Method of Preserving and Restoring 
 Health, by the vertue of Coral and SteeL 
 David's Sling. 
 
Appendix. 
 
363 
 
 A A A AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA A 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Notes, Various Readings, and Emendations 
 of Text, 
 
 (now first added). 
 
 N.B.— The great bulk of the 1691 edition of Merry 
 Drollery, Complete, renders it expedient that we limit the 
 present series of Notes within the smallest convenient 
 space. Many important Notes and Illustrations are con- 
 sequently reserved for a Companion Volume, which will 
 also give the thirty-four Songs and Poems that appeared 
 in the 1661 edition; not reprinted when the work gained 
 the addition of twenty-six Songs, as mentioned in our 
 Introduction, p. v. By the help of a Table of First 
 Lines, arranged in strictly alphabetical order, to be added 
 afterwards, the reader will discern at one glance in what 
 editions each song appeared. 
 
 The twenty-six Additional Songs, not in the 1661 edi- 
 tion, are those that begin respectively on our pages 8, 9, 
 21, 66, 99, 143, 146, i49> IS** l 7*> I 7^> an, 212, 217, 219, 
 220 (bis), 232, 287, 289, 290, 291, 292, 293, 302, and 317. 
 To all the others the date 1661 (or earlier) applies. Some 
 of the twenty-six were not written until about 1670. 
 
 In the same volume we hope to be able to give the 
 Additional Songs that were inserted in the 1674 edition 
 of Westminster Drollery ; with Notes to them. 
 
 MERRY DROLLERY, COMPLETE. 
 
 Part 1st. Page 8 [10]. Amarillis told her Sivain. 
 
 This is Maria's Song, in Thomas Porter's tragedy, 
 The Villain, 1663, Act ii. The music is given in Wm. 
 Chappell's excellent "Popular Music of the Olden 
 
 Time," 
 
364 APPENDIX. 
 
 Time/' p. 284. The tune was also known as "Phillis 
 on the new-made Hay/' In Roxburghe Coll., ii. 85. 
 
 Page 9 [11]. Call for the Master : oh, this is fine ! 
 
 Also in Windsor Drollery, p. 102. A history might be 
 written of the various gangs of Roysterers who have 
 successively made night hideous in London by their 
 noise. In Dean Swift's time they were styled Mohawks, 
 or Mohocks, from their imitating the Indian war-whoop. 
 At beginning of this century they were Tom and Jerry 
 men. Here we have them as Hectors. But, as Charles 
 Mathews would say, " It's the same-drunk, Master." 
 Verrinus seems to have been superfine tobacco. John 
 Philips, in his Splendid Shilling (of which we possess the 
 earliest edition, 1701) speaks of the hero's discomfort : — - 
 But I . . . . from Tube as black 
 As ivinters chimney, or ivell polish? d Jett, 
 Exhale Mundungus's ill-perfuming smoak. 
 
 Page 12. [14] When first Mar dyke ivas made a prey. 
 
 With music, in Pills v. 65. Loyal Garland (13th ed,, 
 1686). Roxb. Coll., ii. 431, printed for P. Brooksby. Bag- 
 ford Coll., i. 69. The date of Dunkirk being taken was 
 June 26, 1658. But Mardyke, or Moerdyke, which seems 
 to have been considered the key to Dunkirk, had been 
 captured in the previous campaign, 1657, by the French 
 conjoined with the English under Reynolds. Charles II. 
 afterwards selling Dunkirk to King Lewis, in 1662, was 
 felt as a sore disgrace. 
 
 Page 21. The thirsty Earth drinks up the Rain. 
 
 This paraphrase of an ode by the bard of Teos is by 
 Abraham Cowley, who died in 1667. All of Cowley's 
 Anacreontiques are charmingly airy and graceful. Given 
 in Wit & Mirth, 1684; in Ritson's English Sgs., ii. 24; 
 and as an appropriate finale to his Introduction on Fes- 
 tive Sgs., by W. Sandys, Percy Soc, xxiii. 
 
 Page 23. To Friend and to Foe. 
 
 In Wit & Mirth, 1684, p. 104, and in the Hive, ii. 176, as 
 " The Married Man's Items." Page 
 
APPENDIX. 365 
 
 Page 25. The Turk in linnen ivraps his head. 
 
 This favourite song on the Englishman's fickle whims re- 
 garding dress, aping his neighbours, is by Thomas 
 Heywood, in his " Challenge for Beauty," 1636, and also 
 in his " Rape of Lucrece," before 1638 (first edit., 1608 ?) 
 Beginning omitted, as also from the Percy Folio MS., iv. 
 77. It should commence thus : — 
 
 The Spaniard loves his ancient slop ; 
 
 The Lombard his Venetian ; 
 And some like breechless uuomen go, 
 
 The Russe, Turk, Jeiv, and Grecian. 
 The threysly Frenchman ivears small zvaist, 
 
 The Dutch his belly boasteth ; 
 The Englishman is for them all, 
 
 And for each fashion coast eth. 
 
 The Turk, &c. 
 
 Rubrick beer is corruption of Lubeck beer. Chippin, for 
 Choppine : mentioned in Hamlet, ii. 2. A later reading 
 (inferior) for " Comely Fro," i.e., Frau, has " lovely 
 Erse," or Gael. Fairholt gives the song, under " English 
 Mutability in Dress," Percy Soc, xvii. 141 (Costume) ; 
 and a picture of the "Monmouth Cap" (2nd verse) on 
 p. 115. 
 
 Page 26. Tobacco that is ivithered quite. 
 
 William Chappell refers to this from the 1670 edition, but 
 it is also in that of 1661, p. 16. He gives us from a MS 
 
 I Collection, time of James I., belonging to J. P. Collier, a 
 copy of the earliest known form of this song, beginning 
 
 ; " Why should we so much despise :" Pop. Music, ii. 563. 
 
 ) It bears the initials G. W., possibly for George Wither, 
 a tedious rhymester in his later days when sanctimonious, 
 
 , and continually in trouble, but a genuine son of Apollo, 
 
 i as shown by his earlier poems. His " Shepherd's Hunt- 
 ing," his "Mistress of Phil 'arete," and even the bitter 
 satire, " Abuses stript and whipt," possess poetry enough 
 to float a dozen " England's Hallelujah" hulks. 
 
 With music, as " Tobacco is but an Indian weed," it is 
 
 in 
 
366 APPENDIX. 
 
 in Pills, 315 (1699 ) ; iii. 292 (1719) ; as also in Chappell, 
 564. Compare a vulgarized " This Indian weed, now 
 withered quite/' in Bds. and Sgs. of the Peasantry, R. 
 Bell's edit, p. 40. 
 
 Page 27. There ivas a Jovial Tinker. 
 With music to it, in the Pills, v. 62. 
 
 Page 29. Noiv Gentlemen, if you ivill hear. 
 
 Earlier than 1660, as it is in " Le Prince d' Amour" of 
 that date, p. 178. Probably before 1649. P- d'A. reads 
 "thieves" in line 9th; Bazingstone. Line 28, cp. Chaucer : 
 "It sneuued in his house of meate and drink," C. T. 
 
 Page 30. The Hunt is up. 
 
 We know not of this particular " Hunt is up" occurring 
 elsewhere, but J. P. Collier gives from MS. " The King's 
 Hunt is up," (? 1570), six stanzas, beginning 
 
 The Hunt is up 9 the hunt is up, 
 
 And it is ivell nigh daye, 
 And Harry our king is gone hunting 
 
 To bring his deere to baye" &c 
 
 Extr. Registers Stat. Co?np. (1848) i. 129. 
 
 J. P. C. (loc. cit) also gives opening stanza of a religious 
 parody, and one from a love serenade ; all begin with the 
 same common line. He believed the one he transcribed 
 might be [William] Gray's, mentioned by Puttenham, 
 1589. But Dr. Rimbault gives Gray's in his Little Book 
 of Sgs. & Bds., p. 69. Also the beginning of one in Raw- 
 linson Collection, Oxford. 
 
 Page 31. Of an Old Souldier of the Queens. 
 
 Tune, " The Queens old Courtier " (for which see Prince 
 d' Amour, 1660 ; and, with music also Chappell, Pop. M., 
 300). Cp. Wit and Drollery, "Of old soldiers the song 
 you would hear," and "With a new beard," 1682, pp. 165, 
 282. Page 
 
APPENDIX. 367 
 
 Page 34. Come my delicate bonny szveet Betty. 
 
 Not found elsewhere as yet. Some corruption of text ap- 
 parently, which baffles us. In line 8, may not the right 
 word be Vulcan f The JEolus in third verse shows a like- 
 lihood of such mythologic allusions as to Tellus the Earth, 
 and Vulcan. 
 
 Page 36. Nay, prithee don't fly me. 
 
 For the answer to this, " I have reason to fly thee/' see 
 page 281. Both are by Alexander Brome. As "The 
 Leveller," among his Sgs. (3rd edit., 1668), 12. Also in 
 Rump Collect. (1662), i. 265; Loyal Sgs. (1731), i. 158. 
 r Grinning honour M is a phrase borrowed from FalstafT, 
 Henry IV. Pt. i. Act v. Sc. 3. 
 
 Page 52, 53. Come, Jack, lets drink, and / marvel, 
 Dick, &c. 
 
 See introduction, p. xxi. In Bagford Coll. Bds., iii. 23, a 
 copy "printed for N. Butter, 1660" [-61?]. Antidote 
 ag. Melancholy (1661), 49, 51. Dryden's Misc. Poems, 
 vi., 352. Percy Soc, iii., 257, 259. Wilkins' PoL Bds., 
 i. 162, 165. 
 
 Page 56. All in the Land of Essex. 
 
 Date before 1653-4. It is satisfactory to remember that 
 Sir John Denham, the reputed author of this objec- 
 tionable but clever ballad, was afterwards rendered 
 sufficiently uncomfortable (when he had married a young 
 [wife, handsome and unprincipled), by his fits of jealousy 
 and by the attacks made against him by infuriated mobs, 
 J who could not sympathise with him for the amiable 
 i weakness he was suspected to have shown in poisoning 
 j Elizabeth Lady Denham. She seems well to have de- 
 j served her fate, despite her voluptuous beauty ; but 
 '; perhaps that is scarcely extenuation. We see her portrait 
 I among Sir Peter Lely's Court Beauties, and read the 
 history in De Grammont and elsewhere, Mrs. Jameson 
 I not shirking the difficulties. Denham was a strange 
 
 mixture 
 
368 APPENDIX. 
 
 mixture of dirt and precious metal. His " Lines on the 
 death of Cowley" dispose us to love him, and the way in 
 which he saved George Wither is a perfection of humour. 
 This " Colchester Quaker " is also in the Rump, early 
 edition, 1660, p. 6; 1662, i. 354; Loyal Sgs., i. 231, the 
 editions of Denham and of Cleveland. Tune, Tom of 
 Bedlam, like "Am I mad ?" Compare "All you that have 
 two," &c, and " All Christians and Lay Elders too," in 
 the Rump, i. 358; i. 350. 
 
 Page 60. My Mistris is a shittle-cock. 
 In Wit and Drollery, 1661. Tune, "To all you Ladies." 
 
 Page 62. Will you hear a strange thing, &c. 
 
 See Introduction, p. xviii. Date, April, 1653. It is also in 
 the Rump Coll., i. 305. Loyal Sgs. i. 189. Wilkins 
 Polit. Bds., i. 100. Compare Carlyle's Cromwell. 
 
 Page 66. Pie sing you a Sonnet, &c. 
 
 Tune, " The Blacksmith," giving it the popular burden 
 of "Which no body can deny; " in Pills iii. 138. Old 
 Bds., 1727, iii. 187. Windsor Drollery, 1672, p. 93. 
 
 Page 69. Bacchus, I am [,] come from, &c. 
 
 This (not found elsewhere) is a parody on John Fletcher's 
 song, in " The Mad Lover," Act iv. Sc. 1 — 
 
 Orpheus I am, come from the deeps beloiv, 
 
 To thee, fond man, the plagues of love to shozu. 
 
 To the fair fields ivhere loves eternal dwell [&c. 
 
 There's none that come, but first they pass through hell, 
 
 It is sung by Stremon, disguised as Orpheus, to sooth the 
 Mad Lover, Memnon. Date before 1625, but not printed 
 until 1647. 
 
 Page 69. Be not thou so foolish nice. 
 
 Before 1656, as it is in Musarum Delicice, p. 58; 1873 Re- 
 print, p. 75. Page 
 
APPENDIX. 369 
 
 Page 70. Aske me no more zuhy there appears. 
 
 Asserted to have been written in 1642, and not improbably 
 by Thomas Jordan. It is in his " Royal Arbor of Loyal 
 
 , Poesie" (1664); p. 84 of J. P. Collier's Reprint. Rump 
 
 j (1662), i. 68. Loyal Sgs., i. 41. 
 
 Page 72. A Session ivas held the other day. 
 
 By Sir John Suckling. Written about 1637 ; and 
 found, with a few variations, but always the one broken 
 verse, in all editions of his poems. Compare other Ses- 
 sions, viz., " Apollo concerned to view the transgressions," 
 Poems on State Affairs, i. 206 ; Rochester's, or Villiers's 
 " Since the sons of the Muses ; " R.'s, and V.'s Poems ; 
 and "One night the great Apollo pleased with Ben," 
 (With Notes tojeach of these, and to the present poem, in 
 our forthcoming Reprint) in the rare " Choice Drollery," 
 ) 1656. 
 
 Page 77. / came unto a Puritan to ivoo. 
 Also in Rump Coll., i. 194, and Loyal Sgs., i. 122. 
 
 Page 82. In Eighty Eight, e'er I ivas born. 
 
 Also in Choice Drollery, 1656, p. 38, the earliest printed 
 version known to us. We gave the Harleian MS. 
 version, No. 791, fol. 59, in Appendix to Westminster 
 Drollery, p. 38. Cp. the very different re-casting, " Some 
 years of late, in eighty eight," in same vol., Part I. p. 93 ; 
 and in J. O. Halliwell's Naval Bds., Percy Soc, ii. 18. 
 
 Page 85. If every tuoman were served, &c. 
 
 With music in Pills (1700 and 1719),^. no. Also in 
 Windsor Drollery, 57. As Hamlet puts it, " Give every 
 man after his dessert, and who shall 'scape whipping ? " 
 
 Page 87. Some Christian people all give ear. 
 See Introduction, p. ix., for modern condensation of 
 this burlesque. Tune, Chevy Chase. Given with music 
 
 in 
 A A 
 
V 
 
 370 APPENDIX. 
 
 in Pills, iv. i. 17 19. Dr. Wagstaffe quotes first verse of 
 modernization, before 1726, in his " Character of Richard 
 St[ee]le, Esq." 
 
 Page 91. Come, my Daphne, come aivay. 
 
 By James Shirley, whom Charles Lamb designates 
 " the last of a great race, all of whom spoke nearly the 
 same language, and had a set of moral feelings and no- 
 tions in common." We sadly need a fresh edition of 
 Shirley (and of Middleton), Dyce > s work of 1833 having 
 become scarce. The present song was set to music by 
 William Lawes. It belongs to Shirley's tragedy, " The 
 Cardinal," Act v. Sc. 3, 1652. It appears, with the 
 music, the same year, in Playford's Select Ayres, ii., p. 6. 
 Title, song of Strephon and Daphne. In Windsor Drol- 
 lery, 115. Acad. Compl., 1670, p. 206. Wit's Academy, 
 79. Dyce's Shirley, v. 344. 
 
 Page 92. Cast your Caps and cares aivay. 
 
 By John Fletcher, in " Beggar's Bush," Act ii. Sc. i. ; 
 before 1625. Given in Windsor Drollery, 87. Sgs. of 
 Dramatists, 125. 
 
 Page 93. When first the Scottish War began. 
 Compare Bagford Coll., ii. 96. In Rump, i. 228; Loyal 
 Sgs. (1731), i- 58. 
 
 Page 95. My Brcthreii all attend,. 
 
 See Introduction, p. viiL The final verse touches the same 
 chord that vibrates so sweetly in Mrs. Hemans' poem, to 
 which her sister set the music. We would gladly give 
 the entire poem, though men ought to know it by heart. 
 The Mayflower Pilgrim Fathers belong to all of us, and 
 the story of their landing and of their early privations is 
 perhaps as dear even as that of the Pitcairn Islanders. 
 Involuntarily, there breaks through the burlesque of 
 Merry Drollery something not unallied to earnestness in 
 the " Zealous Puritan." Read the final verse, and com- 
 pare 
 
APPENDIX. 371 
 
 pare the song which has become a national hymn on the 
 shores of America : — 
 
 " Not as the flying come, 
 
 In silence and in fear, — 
 They shook the depths of the forest gloom 
 
 With their hymns of lofty cheer. 
 
 Amid the storm they sang, 
 
 And the stars heard, and the sea I 
 And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 
 
 To the anthem of the free." 
 
 Page 97. Come, let us drink, the time invites* 
 
 In Loyal Garland, 1686. Repr. by Percy Soc, xxix. 28. 
 Old Bds., Hi. 159. 
 
 Page 99. In the merry month of May. 
 
 By Nicholas Breton, about 1580. In "England's 
 Helicon," 1600. With music by Dr. John Wilson, in 
 Playford's Select Ayres, 1659, P- 99- Also among Mad- 
 rigals by Michael Este, 1604. In Pills, iii. 51. Percy's 
 Reliques, iii. Bk. I. No. 10. Calliope (music, 1788), 309. 
 Ritson, Engl. Sgs., i. 235. 
 
 England's Helicon reads : — In amorne; Forth Iivalked 
 by the wood-side ; his pride ; Phillida ; God wot, He 
 would love & she would not. She said neuer man was 
 true, He said, none was false to you;, haue no wrong. 
 Till they did ; shepheard call ; witness truth : Never 
 loved a truer youth. Was made the lady, &c. 
 
 Page 100. Room for the best Poets heroic ! 
 
 This first appeared among " Certain [Satyrical] Verses, 
 written by several of the Author's friends, to be reprinted 
 with the second edition of Gondibert." [April 30] 1653. 
 Another poem from the same volume is given on our page 
 118, beginning "After so many sore mishaps." These 
 scurrilous lampoons on Sir William D'Avenant (whose 
 mode of spelling his name was sneered at,) were fol- 
 lowed 
 
372 APPENDIX. 
 
 lowed by another volume, entitled, " The Incomparable 
 Poem of Gondibert Vindicated/' &c, Isaac D' Israeli, in 
 an interesting paper entitled "D'Avenant and a Club of 
 Wits " (in his " Quarrels of Authors/' pp. 403-414, edit, 
 1867), gives ample evidence that this second volume was 
 by the same or similar malicious wits as the " Four 
 Esquires " who concocted the " Certain Verses." The 
 received error is that the Vindication came from the 
 author : even Maidment and Logan, recently editing 
 D'Avenant, seem to think thus, they having probably, 
 like ourselves, been unable to see the later publication. 
 Aubrey mentions George Villiers, D. of Buckingham, as 
 being responsible ; but the Four are understood to have 
 been Sir John Denham and John Donne, Sir Allan 
 Broderick and Will Crofts. 
 
 Page 101. /'// tell thee, Dick, ivhere I have been. 
 
 This unequalled " Parley between two West Country- 
 men," " On the sight of a Wedding," is to be found in 
 the Antidote against Melancholy, 40; Pills iii. 132 (with 
 the music) ; Dryden's Misc. Poems, i. 154 (ed. 1716) ; 
 and all editions of its author, Sir John Suckling. The 
 wedding referred to was that of Roger Boyle, Lord Brog- 
 hill, afterwards first Earl of Orrery, with the beautiful 
 Lady Margaret Howard, daughter of Theophilus, Earl of 
 Suffolk. Suckling wrote another poem on the occasion, 
 beginning " In bed, dull man, when Love and Hymen's 
 revels are begun." The exact date of the marriage (Tho. 
 Morrice, in memoir of Boyle, does not give it), 1641, fixes 
 that of the poems. Suffolk house with its grand stair- 
 case " at Charing Cross," where men sold their hay, has 
 been lately destroyed : the massive Northumberland 
 House. The mutilation of the ballad, in 1836, by the 
 Rev. Alfred Suckling (who went against the proverb, and 
 tried to dirty his own family nest in the Memoir) is inex- 
 cusable. Wm. Chappell gives the music, Pop. M.,p. 360. 
 For Imitations of this Ballad, see Additional Note, and 
 the Appendix to Westminster Drollery, pp. lxviii.-ix.; 
 " Now that Love's Holyday," &c, was by John Cleveland, 
 before 1658. 
 
 Page 
 
APPENDIX. 373 
 
 Page 107. Hoiv happy is the Prisoner zvho conquers his 
 fate. 
 
 This song appears in the play called " Cromwell's Con- 
 spiracy," among theThomason pamphlets, dated 1660, as 
 sung by Musicians in Act iii. Sc ii. But we find it 
 earlier, in " Choice Drollery," 1656, p. 93, q. 'vide. Pro- 
 bably the 1660 " Cromwell's Conspiracy," which is anony- 
 mous, " by a Person of Quality," was the extension of an 
 earlier drama, with the final scenes of the Rump-burning 
 and Restoration added. The song is repeated in Windsor 
 Drollery, 74, and in the Loyal Garland of 1686. 
 
 We feel certain that the above must have been remem- 
 bered by the author of an excellent song, " Diogenes surly 
 and proud," in " Wine and Wisdom ; or, the Tippling 
 Philosophers," 17 10, to which music was set by Richard 
 Leveridge, from whose rich voice it doubtless came rolling 
 blithly. This song was originally only six verses (fifty- 
 four were in the author's Lyrick Poem.) We possess 
 seventeen additional verses to these six, in various early 
 Song-books of last century. The resemblance to "How 
 happy is the Prisoner," in regard to Aristotle, Copernicus, 
 and Diogenes are far too close to be accidental. Thus of 
 the latter we read : — 
 
 But growing as poor as a Job, 
 
 And unable to purchase a flask, 
 He chose for his mansion a Tub, 
 
 And liv'd by the scent of the cask. 
 
 And of Copernicus, indulging in wine : — 
 
 Then fancied the world, like his brains, 
 Turned round like a chariot tuheel. 
 
 Page 109. I met uuith the Divel in the shape of a Ram. 
 
 An old proverb says that the Smith and his penny are 
 both black. So we need not expect that a Sowgelder's 
 song will be cleanly. The present is sung by Higgen, 
 exalting his trade, in John Fletcher's Comedy, " The 
 Beggar's Bush," Act iii., Sc. i. Date probably about 
 1622, or earlier. In Wit Restored, 1658, p. 172; (Reprint, 
 
 1873, 
 
374 APPENDIX. 
 
 1873, p. 294). Also, with music by Thomas Wroth, in the 
 Pills, v. 330. Not in the 1647 folio of Beaumont and 
 Fletcher; and only imperfect in the 181 1 quarto. Some- 
 times printed " He ran at me first in the shape of a Ram/ 5 
 
 Page no. The World's a bubble, and the life of man" 
 
 Attributed to James Usher, Archbishop of Armagh, who 
 died in 1658. Dr. Johnson quotes it (Tour to the Heb- 
 rides) as by Bacon ; and Dr. Robert Carruthers erron- 
 eously annotates that the reference is to the Rev. Phanuel 
 Bacon : who was not born until about 1700. The poem 
 appeared as by " Bishop Usher, late Lord Primate of 
 Ireland," in H. W.'s "Miscellanies," 1708. See Notes 
 and Queries, 5th, S. in. pp. 313, &c, 1875. 
 
 Page 115. 'Tis not the Silver nor Gold for itself 
 
 This clever satire on the times (applicable to most other 
 times, alas ! ) is in the Rump, i. 230, and Loyal Songs, 
 i. 60. 
 
 Page 118. After so many sad mishaps. 
 
 See our note on the other poem (p. 100 of M. D. C.) from 
 the same " Certain Verses," April 30, 1653. Two ex- 
 amples of the same class of burlesque may be named ; 
 one, by W. M. Thackeray, on the " Sorrows of Werter." 
 The other, in the " Melbourne Punch," was entitled 
 " Enoch Arden Boiled Down." It follows Tennyson 
 closely (by the way, he made no acknowledgment of 
 having borrowed the story from Adelaide Anne Procter's 
 earlier-printed " Homeward Bound," in Legends and 
 Lyrics, p. 34, edit. 1866; but -which had first appeared as 
 part of Dickens' Christmas Story, " The Wreck of the 
 Golden Mary," 1856). It ends thus, after seven stanzas : 
 
 " Yet reflecting on the subject, 
 
 He determined to atone 
 For his lengthened absence from her 
 
 By just leaving zvell alone. 
 
 Taking 
 
APPENDIX. 375 
 
 Taking to his bed, he divindled 
 Down to something like a shade ; 
 
 Settled ivith his good landlady , 
 Next the debt of nature paid. 
 
 Then, vuhen both the Rays discovered 
 Hozv poor Enoch's life had ended, 
 
 They came out in handsome style, and 
 Gave his corpse a fun'ral splendid. 
 
 This is all I knoiv about it, 
 
 If if s not sufficient, tvrite 
 By next mail to Alfred Tenny- 
 
 Son, P.L., the Isle of Wight." 
 
 The satirist hits the blot, in the penultimate verse, as 
 A. T. marred the grandeur of his hero's death, by un- 
 necessarily adding, for conclusion : — 
 
 " So past the strong heroic soul avuay. 
 And vuhen they buried him the little port 
 Had seldom seen a costlier funeral ! ! ! " 
 
 What an Undertaker's bathos, and from a true poet. 
 
 Page 121. Come, lefs purge our brains, &c. 
 
 More disparagement of malt and hops, associated with 
 ** The Brewer," Oliver Protector. Also in Loyal Gar- 
 land, 1686; Percy Soc. Reprint, xxix. 53. 
 
 Page 124. What though the ill times do run cross, &c. 
 
 Also in Rump, i. 234; and Loyal Songs, i. 65. Compare 
 " What though the Times produce effects," in 1661 edit, 
 of Merry Drollery, p. 161. (Next volume.) 
 
 Page 125. Lay by your pleading, Laiv lies a bleeding. 
 
 Date about 1658. Music in Chappell, Pop. M., p. 431 ; 
 and in the Pills, vi. 191. Words in the Rump, i. 333; 
 Loyal Songs, i. 223; Wilkins' Political Bds., i. 86; and 
 Mackay's Cavalier Sgs., 67, from the Loyal Garland, 
 1686. Additional Note in next volume. 
 
 Page 
 
376 APPENDIX, 
 
 Page 127. I am a bonny Scot, Sir, &c. 
 
 In the Antidote against Melancholy, 1661, p. 59; J. P. 
 Collier's Reprint, p. 73. 
 
 Page 131. I'll tell you a story that never ivas told. 
 
 Additional Note in next volume. Also given in the 
 Rump, i. 340 ; Loyal Sgs. ii. 2. 
 
 Page 134. Pit go no more to the Old Exchange, 
 
 Music to this in Chappell P. M., p. 317. Additional 
 Note in our next volume. In "Wit Restored/' 1658 
 (Repr. pp. 139-45) are The Burse of Reformation, be- 
 ginning " We will go no more to the Old Exchange," 
 and an Answer to it, "We will go no more to the Neiv 
 Exchange." Compare, also, in Wit and Drollery, 1656, 
 pp. no, 60, "I'll go no more to the Neiv Exchange," 
 and " I'll go no more to Tunbridge Wells." In the Pills, 
 vi. 145, we find another song, with music, on the " But- 
 toned Smock," so entitled, beginning " Sit you merry." 
 
 Page 138. Let's call and drink the Cellar dry. 
 
 Compare Roxburghe Collection, ii., 372, The Noble Pro- 
 digal. The six ayres are, "The Jew's Corant," "Princess 
 Royal," " Come hither my own Sweet Duck," &c. 
 
 Page 140. There's a lusty liquor ivhich, &c. 
 
 With music, given by Wm. Chappell, P. M., 308. His 
 remarks are as usual of great value. The tune is known 
 as "Stingo, or Oyl of Barley" (1650), as "The Country 
 Lass" (Martin Parker's hearty ballad), and "Cold and 
 Raw" (D'Urfey's Song, 1688, in the Pills, ii. 167), 
 
 Page 143. Three merry Lads met at the Rose. 
 
 In " Wit Restored," 1656, p. 162; Reprint, 294. Also in 
 " Antidote ag. Melan.," 33. The Rose Tavern was in 
 Russell Street, Covent Garden, and bore a bad repute. 
 
 In 
 
APPENDIX. 377 
 
 In Shadwell's " Scourers/' 1691, we read, t€ In those days 
 a man could not go from the Rose Tavern to the Piazzi 
 once, but he must venture his life twice " (Hist. Sign- 
 boards, p. 125). Hogarth shows a room of the Rose in the 
 supper orgie of Rake's Progress. Other Rose Taverns, 
 however, were near Temple Bar, and in Wood Street, 
 &c. 
 
 Page 146. Of all the Recreations which, &c. 
 
 This was sung to the tune " Amarillis " ('vide ante, p. 8 ; 
 but in Pills, iii. 126, we meet these words to the music of 
 a tune " My Father was born before me"). It is in Vocal 
 Companion, ii. 242. "The Royal Recreation of Jovial 
 Anglers" is the title attached to it in J. P. Collier's excel- 
 lent 4to., A Book of Roxburghe Ballads, 1847, P- 2 3 2 > 
 from a broadsheet printed by F. Coles, T. Vere, W. Gil- 
 bertson, and J. Wright. He believed it to be not older 
 than 1653. We guess it to be of ten years later date, 
 remembering Porter's " Villain." Tom Hudson, early in 
 this Nineteenth Century, wrote an amusing song on the 
 same theme (we have a copy of it, beginning " We're all 
 fishing in Country and in Town"). 
 
 Page 149. Tom and Will ivere shepherd sivains. 
 
 Evidently alluding to some recent rivals ; town gossip, 
 now difficult to follow, but possible, if worth the labour. 
 The earliest other copy yet seen is of same date (as our 
 second edition) 1670 ; in Acad. Compl., p. 180. The 
 music is given in Pills, iii. 112; p. 130 of 1699 edition. 
 It is in Old Ballads, ii. 179. 
 
 Page 151. Wake all you dead, What ho I &c. 
 
 This is Viola's song, by Sir William D'Avenant, in 
 his " Law against Lovers," Act iii. Sc. i., 1662. Pater- 
 son's edit, of D. (Dramatists of the Restoration) has it in 
 Vol. v. p. 152. The play, which Pepys records having 
 seen and liked, in his Diary, 18th February, 1661-2, is 
 composed from a mixture of (s Measure for Measure" and 
 I Much Ado about Nothing." Properly, the song should 
 be divided into stanzas, the second beginning " The State 
 is," &c. Page 
 
I 
 
 378 APPENDIX. 
 
 Page 152. There is a certain idle kind of creature. 
 
 We find this, signed " Philo-balladus" in the Roxburghe 
 Collection of Bds., i. 466; printed for Francis Grove [abt. 
 1620-55], Snow Hill ; to a pleasant new tune. 15 verses* 
 
 Page 159. White Bears are lately come to toivn. 
 
 Also in Wit and Mirth, 1684, p. 39. We have an im- 
 pression that this is by the author of " Some wives are 
 bad," &c, p. 302. 
 
 Page 162. We seamen are the honest boys. 
 
 Included by J. O. Halliwell (Phillips) in his Naval Bds., 
 for Percy Soc, ii. 36. We meet it first in 1656, Wit and 
 Drollery, p, 31, as "We Sea- men are the bonny boys;' 5 
 with variations : — up have bloivn ; She fore the wind will 
 run a ; Gabions ; countermurs ; and an additional verse 
 (the 7th) :— 
 
 The Bear, the Dog, the Fox, the Kite, 
 
 That stood fast on the Rover, 
 They chased the Turk in a day and night, 
 
 From Scandaroon to Dover, 
 
 Page 164. When the chill Charokoe bloivs. 
 
 Not later than 1656, being in "Wit and Drollery" of 
 that date, p. 154. With music, in "Calliope," 1788, p. 
 452. Also in Acad. Compl., 1670, p. 241. Dryden's 
 Misc. Poems, vi. 358. Ritson's Engl. Sgs., ii. 57. Percy 
 Soc. (Festive Sgs.), xxiii. 6j. At commencement of Anti- 
 dote ag. Melancholy, 1661, is a long " Ex-Ale-tation of 
 Ale," worth our quoting hereafter. 
 
 Page 166. Nozv [that] thanks to the poivers below. 
 
 Date 24th Oct., 1648. Title, The Anarchie; or, the 
 Blessed Reformation Since 1640 ; to a rare new tune. 
 It is in the Rump, i. 291 ; Loyal Songs, i. 174; Wilkins' 
 Polit. Bds., i. 32 ; Wright's ditto (Percy Soc, iii.), 112. 
 
 Page 
 
APPENDIX. 379 
 
 iPage 170. A maiden of late, ivhose name ivas sweet 
 Kate. 
 
 With music, as "The Maiden's Longing," in Pills, iv. 
 22. Also in Windsor Drollery, 131 ; and in Dryden's 
 Misc. Poems, iv. 101. 
 
 Page 171. After the pains of a desperate lover. 
 
 By John Dryden; in "An Evening's Love," Act ii. 
 167 1. General reading, " pangs." Music by Alphonso 
 Marsh, in Playford's Choice Ayres, 1676, Bk. i. p. 4. 
 Music also set later by Galliard, in Watts' Musical Mis- 
 cellany, i. 100, 1729; and in Merry Musician, ii. 87. It 
 is in Windsor Drollery, 139; and in Hive, iv. 143, en- 
 titled "The Transport." 
 
 Page 178. Of all the rare juices, &c. 
 
 Another song by Alexander Brome, died 1665. In 
 1668 ed. of his songs, p. 74. 
 
 Page 180* Heard you not lately of a man. 
 
 By Humfrey Crouch. It is in Roxburghe Collection, 
 i. 264; and ii. 362. (Probable date, 1635-42) : — 
 
 " The Mad Man's Morrice ; ivhereinyou shall finde 
 His trouble and grief and discontent of his minde ; 
 A warning to young men to have a care, 
 Hotu they in love int angled are" 
 
 iThis motto precedes in the Roxb. broadsheet, which is 
 .reprinted for our Ballad Society, annotated by Wm. 
 Xhappell, in Roxb. Bds., ii. 153. It is also in the Bag- 
 cford Coll., i. 50, ii. 117; the Euing, Nos. 201, 202; and 
 the Ouvry (formerly J. P. Collier's), two copies. The 
 stanzas are printed as eight lines, this being the second 
 (not in M. D. C.) :— 
 
 " Into a pond stark nak'd I ran, [line 9] 
 
 And cast my cloathes aivay, Sir, 
 Without the help of any man, 
 
 Made shift to run aivay, Sir. 
 
 Hoiv 
 
380 APPENDIX, 
 
 Hozu I got out I have forgot, 
 
 I do not vuell remember ; 
 Or whether it ivas cold or hot, 
 
 In June, or in December, 
 
 And this, Roxb. Bd. fourth verse, not in our's, but needed 
 to introduce the thought of his Lady, love for whom has 
 crazed him : 
 
 " Did you not see my Love of late, [line 25] 
 
 Like Titan in her glory ? 
 Do you not knoiv she is my mate, 
 
 And I must vurite her story 
 With pen of gold on silver leafe ? 
 
 I vuill so much befriend her ; 
 For ivhy, I am of this belief, 
 
 None can so vuell commend her. 
 
 Sazvyou not angels in her eyes, [var. of M.D.C.] 
 
 While that she vuas a speaking ? 
 Smelt you not smells like paradise, 
 
 Betvueen tivo rubies breaking ? 
 
 Is not a dimple in her cheek ? [line 41] 
 
 Each eye a star thafs starting [var. of M.D.C.j 
 Is not all grace install' d in her ? p. 181] 
 
 Each step all joys imparting f 
 Methinks I see her in a cloud, [variation] 
 
 With graces round about her ; 
 To them I cry and call aloud, 
 
 I cannot live ivithout her." 
 
 These broadside ballads, when not originally long enough 
 to give sufficient for the two-pence, or to satisfy the milk- 
 maids and apprentices, who loved them, with enough 
 "piling up of the agony," were frequently lengthened 
 out. But Humfrey Crouch, being a genuine balladist, 
 probably grew his own redundancies. The 3 vols, for 
 Novels are still orthodox : a second part to Street Ballads 
 was a sine qua non in the 17th century. We shall give 
 it in the companion volume (along with " Choice Drol 
 lery.") 
 
 Our ninth half-verse does not appear at all in the 
 
 "Crouch" 
 
APPENDIX. 381 
 
 "Crouch" broadsheet. The others are varied and 
 cransposed, from what was, probably, the original ; viz., 
 the Roxburghe Ballad. It was worth comparing, as being 
 I an elaborate specimen of those Mad Songs in which our 
 ; nation especially delighted of old. See Notes on pp. 234 
 ' and 290. 
 
 Page 187. No man Love's fiery passions can approve. 
 
 In Wit and Drollery, 1656, p. 70; "Academy of Comple- 
 ments," 1670, p. 185. An Answer to it, in Oxford Drollery , 
 [671, p. 114, begins : — 
 
 Some men Love' s fiery passions can resist, 
 That either values pleasure or promotion : 
 
 I hate Luke-vuarmness in an Amorist, 
 It is as bad in Love as in devotion. 
 
 Seven verses follow this. 
 
 Page 190. Come Dravuer, come fill us, &c. 
 
 A third song by Alexander Brome ; written in 1648. 
 In the 1688 edition of his Songs, p. 73. Rump, i. 270. 
 Loyal Sgs., i. 164. Properly, "Come, Drawer, and 
 ill," &c. 
 
 Page 191. Lay by your pleading, Love lies a bleeding. 
 
 -We have hitherto met this excellent song nowhere but 
 mere. Wm. Chappell gives only a few disconnected 
 Scraps of the verses, along with the music, in Popular M. 
 of the Olden Time, p. 431. Compare previous note on p. 
 :-25 (App., 375). 
 
 Page 196. Bring forth your Cunny '-Skins, &c. 
 
 i t-Iare-skin and rabbit-skin collectors have always been x / 
 e,|ueer characters. This Catch is by John Fletcher, 
 •r:n his "Beggar's Bush," Act iii. sc. i ; where it is sung 
 
 >y Clause his boy. Clause the vagabond beggar was a 
 popular favourite, reproduced in Drolls. We see him 
 
 epresented in the frontispiece of "The Wits" by Kirkman 
 
 and 
 
382 APPENDIX. 
 
 and Cox ; now given to our readers. The Song is in 
 Windsor Drollery, abt. p. 88; Acad. Compl. 1670, p. 
 173; and, ivith the Music, in Pills, v. 303. 
 
 Page 197. From hunger and cold, &c. 
 
 By Richard Brome, in his "jovial Crew," Act i. 1641. 
 Music to this Song of the Jovial Beggars in Playford's 
 Select Ayres, 1659, P« 64. The play has always been, 
 deservedly, a favourite. When it was revived, in 1731 
 with many additional songs to popular tunes, converted 
 into a Ballad Opera by Roome and Sir William Young, 
 almost every song found its way to Collections, and kept 
 a place in them. The present editor possesses several 
 editions, some being in manuscript with the music, show- 
 ing how songs were introduced, almost ad libitum. Tom 
 Moore's " Evelyn's Bower" makes its appearance for one 
 Richard Brome deserves esteem. There was something 
 boastful, more suo, in Ben Jonson's addressing him, " I 
 had you for a servant once, Dick Brome," &c, but the 
 two men understood and liked each other. 
 
 Page 197. Room for a Gamester, ivho plays, &c. 
 
 Also in the Rump, i. 252; Loyal Sgs., i. 142; Loyal 
 Garland (1686). Mackay's Cavalier Sgs., 278. 
 
 Page 199. Gather your Rosebuds while you may. 
 
 By Robert Herrick, in his Hesperides, 164. Also in 
 Wit's Recreations, Reprint, p. 474, ivith Music, by Wm. 
 Lawes in Playford's Select Ayres, 1659, P- I0I « Our 
 text is wofully corrupt ; but is a little set to rights in the 
 margin by bracketted corrections. Date, before 1645. 
 
 Page 200. A Story strange I ivill you tell. 
 
 Of a date at least as early as 1656, see " Choice Drollery," 
 p. 31. Sometimes printed " A pretty jest I will," &c, as 
 in Roxb. Coll., ii. 192; iii. 330 ; Bagford ditto, i. 55; ii. 
 128. Also, as " Now listen a while, and I will you tell," 
 &c. : in Wit & Mirth, 1684, p. 40. The humour is ex 
 
 tremely 
 
APPENDIX. 383 
 
 tremely coarse, but evidently found acceptance among a 
 multitude, for it was frequently reproduced. In old 
 broadsheets (especially one of the Bagford copies) the 
 rude woodcut almost out-Herods Herod in offensiveness, 
 the style of engraving being moreover extremely primi- 
 tive and Catnachish. 
 
 Page 204. / am a Rogue, and a Stout One. 
 
 I The music to this is one of the favourite Tom o' Bedlam 
 tunes, and is found in John Gamble's MS., as we learn 
 ' from Chappell, P. M., pp. 332, 779. We know no other 
 j print of this vigorous song, exposing the cheats of mendi- 
 . cants, except one with variations in Wit and Drollery, 
 ,11682, p 74. It is entitled The Blind Beggar." By it we 
 xorrect our text: — Bousing Ken; Gentry folk (v. 4.); 
 . Dog in a string [but our " Peg " may be correct] ; and 
 [four additional verses, — viz. 2, 5, 10, 14, of which we 
 J append the two of any value : — 
 
 If a Bung be got by the High-zvay, [verse 2] 
 Then str eight I do attend them, 
 For if Hue and Cry 
 Dofolloiv, I 
 A zurong ivay soon do send them, 
 Still do I cry, ®c. 
 
 I pay for uuhat I call for, [verse 5] 
 
 And so perforce it must be, 
 For yet I can 
 Not knozv the Man, 
 Or Hostess that zuill trust me. 
 Still do I cry, &c. 
 
 Page 207. Stay, [stay], Shut the Gate ! 
 
 \\ fourth song by Alexander Brome, written before 
 '658. With the music, in Pills, v. 85. In Loyal Gar- 
 ; and (1686, 13th edit.) is an additional verse, as fifth. 
 Among A. Brome's " Songs and other Poems," 3rd edit. 
 668, p. 55; with an additional verse, by "M. C. Esquire." 
 
 5. 
 
384 APPENDIX. 
 
 5. 
 Call, call, honest Will, 
 Hang a long and tedious bill, 
 
 It disgraces j 
 When our Rubies appear, 
 We justly may sivear, 
 That the reckoning is true by our faces. 
 Let the Bar-boy go sleep, and the drawers leave roarings 
 Our looks ivill account without them, had vue more in, 
 When each pimple that rises ivill save a quart scoring. 
 
 This is answered, by T. J., in the next page of A. Brome's 
 Songs, as it is in " Merry Drollery," though divided, in 
 M. D, C, 1691, by it commencing the Second Part. 
 
 MERRY DROLLERY, COMPLETE. 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 Page 210. Hold, [hold,~\ quaff no more ! 
 
 This " Mock Song/' or Answer, from the more sober and 
 thoughtful kind of Cavalier, to those who by debauchery 
 ruined themselves and the cause they were supposed to 
 love, bears the initials "T. J." as author, in A. Brome's 
 volume of Songs, p. 57. Perhaps it may be by Thomas 
 Jordan, a staunch Royallist versifier, although it seems 
 higher and nobler in tone than his acknowledged pro- 
 ductions. Also in Mackay's Cavalier Sgs., 114. 
 
 Page 211. Had she not care enough, &c. 
 
 With the music, this is given in Walsh's Catch Club (no 
 date, but about 1704), ii. 43, No. 69, as "On a Widow 
 who Married an Old Man." An Answer to it appears 
 in Oxford Drollery, Pt. 1st, p. 66, by Capt. Willm. Hicks, 
 1671, 
 
 Was he not kind enough, kind enough, kind enough, 
 Was he not kind enough to his young Bride ? 
 From her Childhood he bred her, then he fed her, 
 And he led her, to the Church ivhere he vued her, 
 
 Then lay by her side : But 
 
APPENDIX. 385 
 
 But Oh hozu he push't her, and crush 1 't her, 
 And thrust her, and like to a burst her 
 
 With long lying on. 
 And Oh hozu she panted, and ranted, 
 Being scanted, of the thing that she zuanted 
 
 All the night long I 
 
 See Later, p. 396 ; and Westminster Drollery Appendix, 
 for Note on CaptainWilliam Hicks, p. 76. 
 
 Page 212. Here's a Health unto his Majesty. 
 
 Music, by Jeremiah Saville in Playford's Musical Com- 
 panion, 1667, given by Chappell, Pop. M., 492. Words 
 in Mackay's Cav. Sgs., 251. 
 
 Page 212. But since it zuas lately enacted High Treason. 
 
 A fifth song by Alexander Brome, and full of character; 
 written in 1646. Among his Sgs., 1668, p. 63. Loyal 
 Garland, Percy Soc. Reprint, xxix. 25. Mackay, Cav. 
 Sgs., 283. 
 
 ■ Page 214. Cook Laurel zuould needs have the divel, &c. 
 
 ; By Ben Jonson, in his Masque, "The Gipsies Meta- 
 ; ; morphosed," acted in August, 1621. It is in the Percy 
 I Folio MS., iv. 40; in the Antidote against Melancholy, 9; 
 '', in Dryden's Misc. Poems, ii. 142, and, with the music, in 
 i Pills, iv, 101. There can be no question as to whose 
 [favour Ben Jonson wished to propitiate by this delectable 
 cditty (coarse, but of sustained humour and rollicking fun). 
 lit was suited to the taste of James I., whom Ben could 
 of please far better than "our gentle Willy" — who indeed 
 /.died more than five years before. Charles I. appreciated 
 2: him better, as we know. Even the final verse gives evi- 
 dence that to James was this " Banquet in the Peak " 
 directed ; as the royal author of the " Counterblast 
 against Tobacco " (reprinted in Dec, 1869, by Edward 
 Arber, to whom we all owe so much gratitude) gives, as 
 fitting diet for his Satanic Majesty, a poll of ling, a side 
 (flitch) of bacon, and a pipe of tobacco for digestion. And 
 
 " the 
 
 6 B 
 
386 APPENDIX. 
 
 "the Scottish Solomon" was not far wrong in his appor- 
 tionment; for, prejudice apart, when we see the ever- 
 growing evils of inordinate smoking, what a curse it is, 
 drying the juices, gradually paralysing the intellect, and 
 making its slaves selfishly indifferent to the discomforts of 
 all who are forced to be in contact with them, we are not 
 indisposed to agree with Ben Jonson and his Royal 
 patron. Shakespeare (almost alone, of all the Elizabethan 
 writers) avoids mention of tobacco. It cannot possibly be 
 by accident. And if he had loved the weed " not wisely, 
 but too well," we may be sure he would have indicated it, 
 as he has done almost every other imaginable thing. Was 
 it that he disliked and wondered at the infatuation ; but, in 
 his fine tolerance of human weakness, and genial sym- 
 pathy with all " humours," he yet abstained from uttering 
 a word of scorn ? We may never know. In the Genuine 
 Works of Charles Cotton, 6th edit., 1771, illustrating his 
 poem of " The Wonders of the Peake," in Derbyshire, is 
 a copper-plate representing the remarkable cavern bearing 
 the vulgar title " The Devil's Arse, near Castleton." The 
 versical description is precise, but almost interminable. 
 There are many variations in the printed copies of Ben 
 Jonson's Cook Laurel. 
 
 Page 218. Let sou Idlers fight for praise and pay . 
 
 In Antidote ag. Melancholy, 39. With music, by Henry 
 Lawes, 1653, in his Ayres, Book i. Part 2, p. 9, where the 
 author is stated to be Mr. Townshend. In Pills, v. 145, 
 with music, it is printed "By Ben Jonson." In Old Bal- 
 lads, iii. 164. Vocal Companion, ii. 159. Ritson's Engl. 
 Sgs., ii. 42. Tea Table Misc., iii. 250, &c. The true 
 commencement (as in Lawes' copy) is : — 
 " Bacchus, lacchuSyfill our brains, 
 As zuell as bowls, ivith sprightly strains, 
 Let Souldiers fight for pay or praise, &c." 
 Given thus, as " A Bacchanal " in Wit's Interpreter, 
 1655, 116. Also in Wit and Mirth, 1684, p. 100. 
 
 Page 220. Calm ivas the evening, and clear ivas the sky. 
 By John Dryden, in " An Evening's Love," Act iv. Sc. 
 
APPENDIX. 387 
 
 i., 167 1. Music by Alphonso Marsh, in Playford's 
 "Choice Ayres," 1786, i. 8. Also in Pills, iii. 161. In 
 Bagford Collection, ii. 147, printed for W. Thackeray, 
 T. Passenger, and W. Whitwood ; where it is entitled 
 " Amintas and Claudia ; or, the Merry Shepherdess." 
 With the carelessness habitual in old collections of songs, 
 we find this one repeated on page 292. 
 
 Page 221. There's many a [clinching], &c. 
 
 Written in 1657. With music, in Pills, iii. 24; but 
 earlier, in 1661, in Antidote ag. Melancholy, 62 ; in the 
 Rump, i. 336; Loyal Sgs., i. 227; Wit and Mirth, 1684, 
 p. 25; and Percy Soc. (Political Ballads) i. 130. Of 
 course the allusions in the ballad are to Oliver Cromwell. 
 See Introduction, p. xv. But compare page 252 for a 
 later and more severe characterization. 
 
 Page 225. Of all the Trades that ever I see. 
 
 Most probably by Dr. James Smith, the friend of Sir 
 John Mennis, or Menzies, and his fellow-labourer in 
 Musarum Delicice, 1656 ; and also (it is thought) in "Wit 
 Restored," 1658, where extra verses are found of the 
 Blacksmith Song. It is there given " As it ivas sung 
 before Ulysses and Penelope at their feast, tvhen he re- 
 turned from their Trojan Warrs, collected out of Homer, 
 Virgill, and Ovid, by some of the Modern Familie of the 
 Fancies." (Wit Restored, reprint, p. 278.) It follows, 
 and is avowedly introduced by Dr. James Smith's " Inno- 
 vation of Ulysses and Penelope." London, October, 
 1658. Smith died in June, 1667. 
 
 ' r e Sing me some Song made in the Iron Age.' 
 ' The Iron Age ? ' quoth he that used to sing, 
 1 ' This to my mind the Black-Smith's Song doth bring.' 
 1 s The Black-Smith's ?' quoth Ulysses, and there holloiveth, 
 1 ' Whoope I is there such a Song? Let's ha' t.' Itfol- 
 lovueth," &c. 
 
 : Chief various (and earlier) readings : — 3rd verse, 1st line, 
 Thundering ly we lay ; did devise ; Mulciber to do her all 
 
 right ; 
 
388 APPENDIX. 
 
 right; Which afterwards he Hammersmith ; our verses 6 
 and 7 transposed from 7 and 6, &c. ; v. 8 refers to the no- 
 torious Turnemill Street, in a line "It stood 'very near to 
 Venus Court) /' [Wit Rest., verse 17th.] 
 
 " Another proverb does seldome fayle, 
 
 When you meet with naughty beere or ale. 
 
 You cry it is as dead as a dore nayle. Which, &c. 
 
 If you stick to one when fortune's ivheele [verse 18] 
 
 Doth make him many losses feele, 
 
 We say such a friend is as true as Steele. Which, &c. 
 
 There is a lawe in merry England [verse 21] 
 
 In which the Smith has some command, 
 
 When any one is burnt in the hand ; Which, &c. 
 
 Banbury ale a halfe-yard-pott, [verse 22] 
 
 The Devil I a Tinker dares stand to' t ; 
 
 If once the tost be hizzing hott. Which, &c. 
 
 Other additional verses follow, concerning the Sullen wo- 
 man, the snuffling Puritans, St. Dunstan, the Black- 
 smith's Vice, Hseresies, Sergeants at Law, a Com- 
 mander's look, Soldiers, Lawes, and these (before our final 
 verse, with which compare) : — 
 
 Though Ulysses himself e has gon[e~\ many miles [v. 37] 
 
 And in the warre has all the craft and the wiles, 
 
 Yet your Smith can sooner double his files. Which, &c. 
 
 Say st thou so, quoth Ulysses, and then he did call [38] 
 
 For wine to drinke to the Black-Smiths all, 
 
 And he wived it should go round as a Ball, Which, &c. 
 
 And cause he had such pleasure ta'ne, [39] 
 
 At this honest fidlers merry straine, 
 
 He gave him the Horse-Shoe in Drury-lane, Which, &c. 
 
 Where his posterity ever since [40] 
 
 Are ready ivith wine, both Spanish and French, 
 
 For those that can bring in another Clench [,*] Which, &c. 
 
 The song being don[e,~\ they drank the health, they rose, 
 They vuo'd in verse, and went to bed in prose. 
 
 Our 
 
APPENDIX. 389 
 
 Our text agrees virtually with Antidote ag. Melancholy, 
 1661, p. 1 1. With the music it is in Pills, iii. 20 ; the tune 
 being a modification of M Green Sleeves" (given, both 
 arrangements, in Chappell, P. M., pp. 233, 230). In Wit 
 and Drollery, 1656, p. 6; the earliest book-copy we know. 
 In Roxb, Coll. i. 250; Pepys, iv. 264; Rawlinson, 191. 
 Ballad Soc. Roxb. Bds. ii. 127. The popularity of the 
 song is incontestable. 
 
 Page 230. Come, my dainty Doxies. 
 
 By Thomas Middleton, in his " More Dissemblers be- 
 side Women," Act iv. Sc. i. Dyce's Middleton, iii. 606. 
 Earlier than 1623, in which year Sir Henry Herbert en- 
 ters the comedy as an "old play." But it was not 
 printed, we are told, until 1657. It appears, however, 
 probably before that date in the Percy Folio MS., iii. 313, 
 where, as usual, there is no guide given to the authorship. 
 We have found many of the manuscript songs elsewhere, 
 apparently not known to the editors as being in print. 
 They explain " Doxy " as a mistress, and "dill " as much 
 the. same as darling; which " darle" certainly seems to 
 be. R. Bell gives "dell" as a cant term for "an unde- 
 fined girl." Among variations we note the line "Our 
 store now taken" reads in Middleton and P. Fol. " Our 
 store is never taken." Instead of " Some come to dis- 
 burses," they read, " If one have money he disburses, 
 While some tell fortunes, some pick purses," &c. " He 
 that's a gipsy, May be drunk or tipsy, At any hour he 
 please; roar, we scuffle j weflch, we shuffle. 
 
 Page 231. Come, Imp Royal, come atuay. 
 
 In the Rump, i. 339 ; and " Loyal Songs," commencing 
 the second volume. For " Come, my Daphne ! " See 
 M. D. C, p. 91, and Note. 
 
 Page 232. The Wise Men ivere but seven. 
 
 Also in Antidote against Melancholy, 1661, p. 69 ; J. P. 
 C. Reprint, 85. In Universal Songster, iii. 95. Compare 
 the Droll on former page, 113, final verse. The Nine 
 
 Worthies 
 
/ 
 
 390 APPENDIX. 
 
 Worthies were Joshua, David, Judas Maccabseus; Hector, 
 Alexander, Julius Caesar; King Arthur, Charlemagne, 
 and Godfrey of Bulloigne. Sometimes Hercules and 
 Pompey were substituted ; as in Love's Lab. Lost, Act v. 
 The Muses were Clio, Euterpe, Thalia, Melpomene, 
 Terpsichore, Erato, Polyhymnia, Urania, and Calliope. 
 The Seven Wise Men were Solon, Chilo, Pittacus, 
 Bias, Periander (or Epimenides), Cleobulus, and Thales. 
 The Three Fatal Sisters, or Parcae, were Clotho, Lachesis, 
 and Atropos. 
 
 Page 232. Hoiv poor is his spirit, &c. 
 In the Rump, i. 326, and Loyal Songs, 1731, i. 214. 
 
 Page 234. Am I mad, noble Festus. 
 
 This memorable Mad-Song and burlesque is by Dr. 
 Richard Corbet, successively Bishop of Oxford and of 
 Norwich. (Concerning him see Appendix to Westminster 
 Drollery, pp. xxxv. xxxvi. By the way, we have again 
 read " The Times Whistle," in E. T. Soc, and feel dis- 
 inclined to believe that worthy Bishop Corbet wrote it.) 
 This is sometimes entitled " A Song of the Hot-headed 
 Zealot, otherwise the Distracted Puritan." It is in the 
 Percy Folio MS., iii, 269; in Prince d' Amour, 171 ; 
 Antidote against Melancholy, 35; Rump, i. 237 ; Cor- 
 bet's Poems, 3rd edit., 1672, p. 106; Loyal Songs, i. 69; 
 Percy's Reliques. ii. B. 3, No. 18, and elsewhere. Corbet 
 has no malice in his caricature of the Puritan. " Pure 
 Emanuel " refers to Emanuel College, at Cambridge, 
 founded in 1584 by Sir Walter Mildmay, a patron of the 
 Puritans, designing it "as a nursery for that party. He 
 did little more than lay the foundation ; saying therefore 
 of it, that he had set an acorn, which, he hoped, in time 
 might become an oak." What sort of a triple-tree it 
 became we pretty well know; small thanks to him. Else- 
 where we read who it was that sowed tares in the field, 
 and without disguise that an Enemy had done it. Never- 
 theless, some eminent men came from Emanuel's. Among 
 them, Dr. Joseph Hall, whose Satires are quite as coarse 
 
 as 
 
APPENDIX. 391 
 
 as anything in the Drolleries (the book was interdicted 
 and ordered to be burnt; "but that's not much," as 
 Othello says). Verse 3, Foxes Martyrs : the first edition 
 of John Fox's " History of the Acts and Monuments of 
 the Church " appeared in a folio volume, 1553. Verse 9 
 refers to some exposition of Zechariah, v. 1, Bp. Percy 
 thinks to Coppe's " The fiery flying Roll," &c. He also 
 mentions Greenham's Works, folio, 1605, one tract being 
 " A sweet comfort for an afflicted conscience." And as 
 to verse 10, he guides us to Perkins's Works, fol., 1616, i. 
 1 1 ; where is a large half-sheet folded, containing st A 
 Survey, or table declaring the order of the causes of sal- 
 vation and damnation, &c," the pedigree of damnation 
 being distinguished by a broad zig-zag line. Verse 1 1 
 alludes to a not defunct error that study of Hebrew en- 
 courages heresy. Some folks become heretics without 
 studying any ancient language, or even understanding 
 their own. Verse 12 refers to Laud; his predecessor, 
 Archbishop Abbott, having favoured the Puritans. Laud's 
 primacy began in 1633, and since Corbet died in 1635, 
 we fix the date of the ballad to 1633-5, which is tolerably 
 close. Probably 1633, 
 
 Page 237. / doat, I doat, but am a sot to shozv it. 
 
 Probably by the gallant Cavalier William Cavendish, 
 first Duke of Newcastle (see Introduction, p. xxix). 
 Certainly two scraps of the song are sung by Sir John in 
 his " Triumphant Widow," Act iii., which we believe to 
 have been written before 1660. Other songs, known to 
 be his, are of similar gaiety. There are good things found 
 in my Lady Duchess's ponderous folios. 
 
 Page 240. Ladies? I do here present you. 
 
 In Wit and Drollery, 1656, p. 103, is a similar song : — 
 
 Ladies, here I do present you 
 With a dainty dish of fruit ; ®c. 
 
 Page 242. Go you tame Gallants. 
 In the Antidote against Melancholy, 1661, p. 44, where it 
 
392 APPENDIX. 
 
 is stated to be "by T. R.," but in the Pills, iii. 329(1719) 
 is given as "by Dr. R. W." It also appears in the 1684 
 edition of Wit and Mirth, p. 62. The initials probably 
 refer to Thomas Randolph (often printed Randall), who 
 died in 1635); an d to Dr. Robert Wilde, whose Iter 
 Boreale, celebrating General Monk's progress, attained 
 popularity in 1660. We believe this powerful "Combat 
 of Cocks" to be by him. It is also in Wit and Drollery, 
 1656, p. 70, as by "T. R." 
 
 Page 249. What is that you call a Maidenhead? 
 Also in "Wit's Interpreter," 255, 1655, and (p. 280) 1671. 
 
 Page 250. When Phcebus had drest his course, &c. 
 
 This is a corruption of " When Phoebus addrest his 
 course," &c. It is in Wit and Drollery, 1656, p. 35 ; and 
 in the Percy folio MS., vol. iv. p. 7 (imperfect version, de- 
 ficient verses iv. and v). Mr. Wm. Chappell notes that 
 the tune " O doe not, doe not kill me yet " (given in Pop. 
 Music, p. 194) is printed under the title of the burden, 
 in J. J. Starter's " Boertigheden," Amsterdam, 4to, 
 1634, with a Dutch song, written to the tune. So "When 
 Phcebus," &c, is certainly as early as 1634, or before it. 
 Tune afterwards known as (i Drive the cold winter away." 
 Other reading, 2nd verse : — did appear a show. 
 
 Page 252. A Brezuer may be a Burgess grave. 
 
 Written in 1657; this is one of the many references to 
 Oliver Cromwell as having been a brewer. If nothing 
 worse could be charged against him, he could afford to 
 smile, although the connection between malt and a " cop- 
 per nose " might seem pressed home ungenerously. It is 
 said that the other "Brewer" song (p. 221) was not 
 considered severe enough; therefore, the present ditty 
 was framed. It occurs in the Rump, i. 33 ; Loyal Songs, 
 i. 221. Wilkins mutilates it, in his Political Bds., i. 132, 
 and such castrated scraps are worthless. 
 
 Page 
 
APPENDIX. 393 
 
 Page 254. Oliver, Oliver, take up thy Croivn. 
 
 In the Rump, i. 335 ; Loyal Songs, i. 225. See Additional 
 Note in ensuing volume of the Drolleries. 
 
 Page 255. When I do travel in the night. 
 
 This first meets us as Pride's Song, beginning " As I 
 was walking in the night," &c, in the play of " Crom- 
 well's Conspiracy," Act iii. Sc. 5, where is an extra verse, 
 the twelfth : — 
 
 I prithee Svueet-heart do thou be civil, 
 Ore Pie take a course to cure this evil, 
 By beating out of the scolding Devil. 
 
 And I like my Humour ivell, vuell, &c. 
 
 The play is anonymous, " By a person of Quality," and 
 dated Aug. 8, 1660. Compare the abbreviated version 
 in Westminster Drollery, i. 108, " As we went wandering 
 all the night," &c. 
 
 Page 257. Sir E glamor e, that valiant knight. 
 
 Like the still-later burlesque, " More of More Hall and 
 the Dragon," (beginning " Old stories tell how Hercules," 
 &c, Pepy's Coll., and Pills, iii. 10., on which " honest 
 Harry" Carey founded his operetta " The Dragon of 
 Wantley," 1738 ;) this grotesque account of a knight 
 errant was long popular. We meet it in the 1656 edition 
 of Wit and Drollery, p. 128. Again, in Antidote against 
 I Melancholy, 25; Dryden's Misc. Poems, iv. 104 ; Evan's 
 Eds. i. 365 ; as a broadsheet, in Roxb. Coll., ii. 81, 1672 ; 
 in Bagford Coll., ii. 18. With music, it is given in 
 Playford's Musical Companion, 1687, Pt. ii. ; in the Pills, 
 iii. 293 (where the dragon is a dragoness) : Busby, Hist. 
 'Music, ii. 203, and Chappell, P. M., 276, also give the 
 music. The earliest appearance of it known to us is in 
 Samuel Rowland's "Melancholie Knight," p. 27, 1615. 
 Political parodies were written on it, one concerning Gen. 
 Monk, Rump, i. 371, &c. Another in Percy Soc, ii. 205. 
 
 Pa^e 
 
394 APPENDIX. 
 
 Page 259. If none be offended ivith the scent. 
 
 In the Rump, ii. 1 ; Loyal Songs, ii. 37 ; Loyal Garland, 
 1686; Percy Soc. Reprint, xxix. 80. Tune, the Black- 
 smith. Variations in versions. 
 
 Page 263. Come, Drawer, and fill us about some ivine. 
 
 Another by Alexander Brome. Written in 1648. 
 Title, *'The Independents Resolve." It has already ap- 
 peared, on p. 190; see Note thereon. 
 
 Page 264. It chanced not long ago, as I ivas walking. 
 
 In Wit and Mirth, 1684, p. 34; Loyal Garland, 1686, 
 sg. 78 (omitted from Percy Soc. Reprint). In Roxb. 
 Collect, of broadside Bds. ii. 20, printed by F. Coles, &c. 
 
 Page 266. You talk of ' Neiv England ; I truly believe. 
 
 Music in the Pills, iii. 19. In Wit and Drollery, 1661 
 edition, p. 81, it reads " You talk of Old England, but I 
 do believe." In Wit and Mirth, 1684, p. 35, and in 
 Dr. Rimbault's Little Book of Sgs., 183. 
 
 Page 270. Pray ivhy should any man complain ? 
 
 By Alexander Brome, his seventh here. Among his 
 Sgs., 1668, p. 10. Also, as " On Sir G. B his de- 
 feat," in the 4to. Collection of Diverting Songs, p. 401. 
 
 Page 275. My Masters, give audience. 
 
 Not yet found elsewhere (as, indeed, also the others left 
 specially unannotated). Compare Introduction, p. viii., 
 and the following ballad (date before Nov., 1643) : — 
 
 Ne*w England is preparing a -pace, 
 
 To entertain King Pym, ivith his grace, 
 
 And Isaac before shall carry the mace : 
 
 For Roundheads Old Nick stand up now ! 
 
 No 
 
APPENDIX. 395 
 
 No Surplice, nor no Organs there, 
 Shall ever offend the eye or the ear ; 
 But a spiritual preach, vuith a three hours pray'' 7 ; 
 For Roundheads, &c. 
 
 All things in zeal shall there be carried, 
 Without any porredge read over the buried, 
 No crossing of infants, nor rings for the married : 
 For Roundheads, &c. 
 
 The sivearer there shall punish' d be still, 
 But drunkenness private be counted no ill, 
 Yet both kinds of lying as much as you will : 
 For Roundheads, &c. 
 
 Blozu ivinds, hoist sails, and let us begone, 
 But be sure ive take our plunder along, 
 That Charles may find little vuhen as he doth come ; 
 For Roundheads, &c. 
 
 Page 277. The Aphorisms of Galen I count, &c. 
 
 With this accumulation of impossible ingredients, not de- 
 void of humour, compare "A Maiden of late," &c, p. 170. 
 
 Page 280. Novo I am married, Sir John, &c. 
 
 Also in the Antidote against Melancholy, 70 (J. P. C. Re- 
 print, 86). Music by Willm. Webb, in John Hilton's 
 Catch that Catch Can, 1652, p. 72. 
 
 Page 281. / have reason to fly thee, &fc. 
 
 ! By Alexander Brome; among his Sgs., 1668, p. 78. 
 I In the Rump, i. 267; Loyal Sgs., i. 161. It is the 
 v Answer to " Nay, prithee don't fly me ! " given on p. 36. 
 
 Page 283. I have the fairest Non-perel. 
 
 Also in Wit and Drollery, 1656, p. 26; where Syrens is 
 printed Hyrens, in 3rd verse. Cf. Westm. Droll. Appen- 
 dix, p. xxxii., note on p. 74. The present mocker con- 
 cedes that his beauty was "chaste." Probably (as even 
 
 the 
 
396 APPENDIX. 
 
 the ugliest meet temptation : thus compare John Skel- 
 ton's delightful book, " A Campaigner at Home/' p. 1 14), 
 in the same way that another Lady merited the title : — 
 
 / had a Love, and she ivas chast, 
 
 Alack the more's the pity : 
 But ivot you hoiv my love ivas chaste? 
 
 She ivas chaste quite through the City. 
 
 (Wit and Drollery, 1656, p. 89.) 
 
 Page 286. Are you groivn so melancholy ? 
 
 With the music, in Pills, v. 118, as " A Cure for Melan- 
 choly." 
 
 Page 287. Suhlimest discretions have clubbed, &c. 
 
 By E. Edwards, of London ; this poem is in laudation of 
 Captain William Hicks, his Oxford Jests. Compare pp. 
 317, 408, and the Appendix to our Westminster Drollery, 
 pp. ii., iii., xlv., xlvi. Verse 5. Will Summers or Som- 
 mers was a favourite Jester to Henry VIII. His portrait, 
 as behind a lattice, is (we believe) at Hampton Court : a 
 small copy, after Dalarem, is in G. Daniel's " Merrie 
 England" chapter 30. Archibald Armstrong, or Archee, 
 disliked by Laud, was Jester to Charles I., and latest of 
 Court- Fools. Under the Hanoverians the office was put 
 into commission. " Scoggin's Jests" maybe found in 
 W. C. Hazlitt's reprints. " Antidotes " refers to the 
 Ant. against Melancholy, made up in Pills, 1661. 
 It is also prefixed to Oxford Jests, edition 1684. 
 
 Page 289. A Pox on the Jaylor, and on, &c 
 
 Music to this by Henry Lawes. It is by William 
 Cartwright, who died about 1639; in his "Royal 
 V Slave," Act i. Sc. i. (p. 91 of the earliest edition of his 
 
 works, 1 65 1. 
 
 Page 290. My lodging is on the cold ground. 
 
 Celania's song, by Sir William D'Avenant, in his 
 play, " The Rivals " (an adaptation of " The Two Noble 
 
 Kinsmen") 
 
APPENDIX, 397 
 
 Kinsmen") Act v., about 1664. Music by Matthew Locke, 
 in Chappell's Pop. M., 526. The air also given in Vocal 
 Mag., 1798, 11, Sg. 100. As "The Fair Bedlamite" in 
 Hive, i. 88; as "The Mad Shepherdess" in Evans' Bds., 
 iv., 195. It was sung by Mary Davis (see Introduction 
 to our Westminster Drollery, p. xxxii. note) ; Downes 
 says " She performed that so charmingly, that, not long 
 after [1668], it raised her from her bed on the cold ground 
 to a Bed Royal." (Rose. Anglicanus, 32, edit. 1781). In 
 Roxb. Coll., ii. 423, is the same song, lengthened to a 
 broadside ballad, entitled "The Slighted Maid; or, the 
 Pining Lover," beginning " Was ever Maiden so scorned 
 by one that she loved so dear ? " given complete, by 
 Chappell, 527-8. 
 
 Page 291. From the fair Lavinian shore. 
 
 With music by Dr. John Wilson, in Playford's Select 
 Ayres, 1659, p. 95; and P.'s Musical Companion, 1673, 
 p. 115. It is in the Percy Folio MS., iii. 308, 311, q. 'vide, 
 as "The Lavinian Shore," reading " From the rich/ 9 &c. 
 Also in Windsor Drollery, 2 ; and Le Prince d' Amour, 
 1660, p. 177. It is attributed to William Shakespeare, 
 but with only manuscript evidence. (See our Additional 
 Note in next volume.) Compare the opening couplet of 
 A Song : — 
 
 A gentle breeze from the Lavinian Sea, 
 
 Was gliding o'er the Coast 3/ Sicily; 
 
 When, luird ivith soft repose, a prostrate Maid 
 
 Upon her bended arm had raised her head : 
 
 Her Soul ivas all tranquile and smooth zvith rest, 
 
 Like the harmonious slumbers of the Blest ; 
 
 Wrapped up in Silence, innocent she lay, 
 
 And press' d thefloiv'rs ivith touch as soft as they. &c. 
 
 (Pills to P. M., 1699, p. 221 ; iii. 213.) 
 
 Page 292. Calm ivas the evening, &fc. 
 
 Given already, on p. 220. See note in Appendix, p. 386. 
 Nothing better shows the careless hap-hazard ways of 
 
 these 
 
398 APPENDIX. 
 
 these compilers than the frequency with which, in all the 
 longer Drolleries, songs are repeated in the same volume. 
 
 Page 293. Fetch me Ben Jonson's scull, &c. 
 
 By Dr. Henry Edwards. Although absent from the 
 1 66 1 edition of Merry Drollery, it was certainly then in 
 existence, for it appears at that date in the Antidote 
 against Melancholy, p. 57, with " By Dr. H. E." prefixed. 
 Again, it is in Wit and Mirth, 1684, p. 59, and in Pills, 
 iii. 327, as " The Virtue of Sack." It is one of the best 
 Bacchanalian Rhapsodies in praise of that liquor, and is 
 admirably sustained throughout, while the varying whims 
 gain mastery. 
 
 Page 296. Nozu that the Spring hath filled our 'veins. 
 
 In the Antidote against Melancholy, 66; J. P. Collier's 
 Reprint, 81. Music by John Hilton, in his Catch that 
 Catch Can, 1652, p. 1. 
 
 Page 300. the ivily, ivily Fox. 
 
 Also in the Antidote against Melancholy, 69 ; Repr., 86. 
 With music, by Edward Nelham, it had appeared in 
 John Hilton's " Catch that Catch can," 57, 1658. 
 
 Page 300. She lay all naked in her bed. 
 
 Also in the 1656 edition of Wit and Drollery, p. 54; to 
 this is added, in the 1661 edition, 58 (as also in Merry 
 Drollery, same date, ii. 116) an offensive and quite un- 
 necessary Mock, " She lay up to," &c. We learn from 
 illuminated manuscripts, that it was the custom to sleep 
 without night gear. See illustration on p. 278, vol. i. of 
 " Chaucer's England." 
 
 Page 302. Some zuives are good, and some are bad. 
 
 With the music in Pills, iv. 181. Robert Jamieson quotes 
 this in his Popular Bds., 1806, ii. 316. 
 
 Page 
 
APPENDIX. 399 
 
 Page 304. Call George again boy, Call George again. 
 
 This excellent Catch is also in Antidote against Melan- 
 choly, 67 ; Reprint, 82. Music by Jn. Hilton, M.C., 26. 
 
 Pp. 304, 306. Pox take you ; and, I pray thee, Drunkard. 
 
 Also in Wit and Drollery, 1656, pp. 84, 89; where the 
 peculiarly drunken look of the promiscuously mingled 
 capitals meets us. Like David Copperfield's running his 
 words together (i.e., " Amigoarawaysoo" and " Lorbless- 
 mer ! ") which Thackeray speedily imitated, it is sug- 
 gestive of " How came you so ?" 
 
 Page 308. She that ivill eat her breakfast in her bed. 
 
 Music (by John Hilton) in Walsh's Catch-Club, Pt. ii. 
 p. 42, No. 68. Words in Wits Recreations, 1640, No. 
 166 ; Wits Interpreter, 1655, p. 115 ; Antidote ag. Melan- 
 choly, 68; and Musa Madrigalesca, 300, from Hilton's 
 "Catch that Catch can," p. 23, 1652. 
 
 Page 309. Why should ive boast of Arthur, &c. 
 
 The variations and additional verses are so numerous, 
 that we reserve them for the companion volume. The 
 song was popular, from about 1612, and meets us (some- 
 times as "Why do we boast," &c.) in Antidote ag. 
 Melanc, 26; Wit and Mirth, 1684, p. 29; Pills (with 
 music), iii. 116; Old Bds., 1723, i. 24; Percy's Reliq., 
 j iii. 3, No. 14; Bagford Coll., ii. 16, &c. A Second Part, 
 ! by John Grubb, beginning "The Story of King Arthur it 
 iis very memorable," meets us in Pills, 1699, p, 303; 
 1 7 19, iii. 315. An earlier second part, political, leads off 
 with " Now the Rump is confounded ;" March 7, 1659- 
 !6o; in the Rump, ii. 159; Loyal Sgs., ii. 249. 
 
 Page 312. Saivyou not Pierce the Piper, 
 
 One other early copy of this meets us in Antidote against 
 Melancholy, same date, 1661, p. 16 ; J. P. C. Repr., 21. 
 Ritson gives it in his Robin Hood, ii. 210. Wm. Chap- 
 pell 
 
400 APPENDIX. 
 
 pell (to whom we all owe a debt of gratitude for his Pop- 
 ular Music of the Olden Time, and other works alike 
 scholarly to satisfy the antiquary, and yet so genial in 
 tone that they form delightful reading to the general 
 lovers of literature), gives us the music, and first verse 
 only, in P. M., p. 540. We find the words of the lively 
 modern version, "The Wedding of Arthur O'Bradley" 
 (attributed, in this re-cast, to one Taylor, a comic singer 
 and actor at beginning of the 19th century), in Bds. of 
 the Peasantry, annotated edit., p. 139 ; It begins, " Come, 
 neighbours, and listen awhile." The bridegroom is of a 
 Petrucio cast, in disposition and attire. We suspect that 
 Taylor had got some traditional fragment of the earlier 
 Arthur O' Bradley to build on; such as was referred to by 
 Elizabethan dramatists. A different ballad entitled 
 " Arthur O' Bradley," printed about the end of last cen- 
 tury, is in Roxburghe Coll., iii. 283 ; the end is lost, but 
 it begins, 
 
 "All in the merry month of May, 
 
 The maids a May pole they ivill have ; 
 
 Your helping hand I do crave ; 
 
 For there's never a Man shall sup 
 
 Till I have drank my cup, 
 
 For I am beloved by all, 
 
 The great and the small, 
 
 For my name it is Arthur 0' } Bradley, O, 
 
 O rare Arthur o 9 Bradley O, 
 
 O fine Arthur o' Bradley O. 
 
 (( And as I tvent forth one day, 
 I met a maid by the vuay, 
 I took her by the hand, 
 Desiring her to stand ; 
 For 'tis Love conquers Kings, 
 And a sorroivful heart brings ; 
 For if you lov'd your mother, 
 Love me and no other, 
 
 For my name," &c. 
 
 Six other irregular verses follow. (See Additional Note 
 in next volume of the Drolleries). 
 
 In 
 
APPENDIX. 401 
 
 In the Sixth Scena of the ancient Interlude entitled the 
 "Contract of a Marriage between Wit and Wisdom" 
 (mentioned as already existing, in the play "Sir Thomas 
 More," about 1590); printed in 1846 for the Shakespeare 
 Society, edited by J. O. Halliwell ; we find " Idlenis," 
 the Vice, alluding to the proverbial Arthur O' Bradley, 
 thus : — 
 
 This is a ivorld to see how fortune changeth, 
 This shalbe his luck ivhich like me rangeth, 
 
 and raingeth ; 
 For the honour of Artrebradle, 
 This age uuold make me sivere madly ! 
 Give me one peny or a halfpeny, &c. (P. 49.) 
 
 See, also, J. P. Collier's Bibl. Account, i. 26, where he 
 remarks " the character of the drama carries us back to 
 the reign of Edward VI., or even earlier." 
 
 Page 317. I tell thee, Kit, ivhere I have been. 
 
 By T. Franklin, Oxon. Tune of Sir John Suckling's 
 ballad, " I tell thee, Dick." Also prefixed to the " Ox- 
 ford Jests, 1684, and entitled "Two Swains near Oxford 
 that came to London." 
 
 Page 318. There ivere three Cooks in Colebrook. 
 
 Also in Antidote ag. Melancholy, 70 ; Repr. 87 ; Acad. 
 Compt., 1670, p. 185. With music in Walsh's Catch- 
 Club, ii. 43. 
 
 Page 319. Of all the Sciences beneath the Sun. 
 
 We know of no other copy. Compare (probably) Dr. 
 James Smith's " Blacksmith," on p. 225, which preceded 
 this one, we believe. 
 
 Page 323. When Vse came first to London toivn. 
 
 In 1656 this appeared in Wit and Drollery, p. 75; in 
 1684 in Wit and Mirth, 37. Also, with music by Akeroyd, 
 n the Pills, iv. 96. Page 
 
 C C 
 
402 APPENDIX. 
 
 Page 326. Why should <we not laugh, and be jolly ? 
 
 By Alexander Brome, before 1655, when it appears in 
 Wit's Interpreter, p. 61 (edit. 1671, p. 167); in Wit and 
 Drollery, 1656, p. 112. Also in the Rump, i. 313 ; Loyal 
 Songs, i. 199, and A. Brome' s Songs, 1688, p. 69. Title, 
 The Cure of Care. 
 
 Page 328. Noiv ive are met in a knot, <Sfc. 
 
 Probably this likewise is by Alexander Brome, though 
 not included amongst his songs when collected by him- 
 self (he probably wrote many others additional). For 
 Tom D'Urfey (to whom we all have a leaning) attributes 
 it to " Old loyal Brome/' when beginning his own song 
 (Pills ii. 66), "The Parliament sat as snug as a Cat," 
 which is evidently quoted from verse 14 (p. 331). It is in 
 the Rump i. 315; and Loyal Songs, i. 201. 
 
 Page 332. Have you observed the Wench in the street ? 
 
 In Windsor Drollery, 138. With music for three voices, 
 by Thomas Holmes, in John Hilton's " Catch that Catch 
 Can/' 52, 1658; and in Walsh's Catch-Club, Pt. ii., p. 
 
 25. 
 
 Page 333. Let the trumpet sound, &c. 
 
 This medley is in the Rump, i. 258; Loyal Songs, 1731, 
 i. 149. 
 
 Page 337. Shezu a Room, Sheiv a Room. 
 
 Also in Antidote against Melancholy, 69; Repr. 85. 
 Music by Thomas Holmes, in Catch that Catch Can, 
 1652, p. 44. 
 
 Page 339. He that a happy life vuould lead. 
 
 By Alexander Brome ; written before 1658, at which 
 date it appears in Wit Restored, p. 163; Reprint, 1873, 
 p. 285. In A. B.'s Sgs, 1668, p. 114, entitled « The Ad- 
 vice." Page 
 
APPENDIX. 403 
 
 Page 341. What Fortune had I, poor maid, &c. 
 
 In Antidote against Melancholy, p. 74. Also (if the same 
 as "What ill luck had I, silly maid that I am?") in 
 Choice Drollery, 1656, p. 84. See our next volume loc. 
 cit. 
 
 Page 342. He that intends to take a ivife. 
 
 In the Pills, iii. 106, as " The Wife Hater," to same 
 tune (Clark's, on p. 102 of same vol.) as " Now that 
 Love's Holiday is come." 
 
 Page 348. If any so zuise is, that Sack he despises. 
 
 This had appeared, with music by Wm. Child, in Hilton's 
 " Catch that Catch can," 82, 1652. We find the music also 
 in Walsh's Catch-Club, ii. 31. Words in Antidote ag. 
 Melancholy, 72 ; Wit and Mirth, 1684, p. 114; Hive, iii. 
 143; and Vocal Library, 128. 
 
 Page 374, line 13. (For &c. read 5th s. iv. ii.) It is by 
 Francis Bacon (? from Posidippus), printed in Farna- 
 by's Florilegium, 1629; Reliquice Wottonice, etc. 
 
 FINALE. 
 
404 
 
 FINALE. 
 
 There are, who, wandering through each trim parterre, 
 Will spy out fungus-growths, neglecting roses ; 
 So Readers, leaving what are choice and rare, 
 May take exception to these ancient posies. 
 We grant, some look like weeds ; we scarcely dare 
 Commend them to your bosoms, or your noses ! 
 What then ? In Hortus Siccus plac'd, with care, 
 They'll gain historical Metempsychosis. 
 
 July, 1875. J. W. E. 
 
405 
 
 ADDITIONAL NOTES 
 
 TO THE 
 
 WESTMINSTER DROLLERIES. 
 
 Our next book will contain fresh Title-pages to the 
 series of Drolleries, completed in three volumes. Mean- 
 while, let readers accept the following, for Corrections 
 and Additions to the Appendix of Westminster Drollery : — 
 
 Page 10. Wert thou much fairer than thou art is by "M. 
 W. M.," before 1 651, as it was answered in that 
 year by Thomas Stanley, in a Song beginning 
 • " Wert thou by all affections sought. " 
 
 — 13. Never per svuade meto*t. Also in Playford's Select 
 
 Ayres, 1652, p. 30, with music by Dr. Colman ; 
 where is O fain would I, &c, p. 9. 
 
 — 17. Cellamina, of my heart. By John Dryden, 
 
 same date, 1671, in "An Evening's Love/' Act i. 
 
 — 20. Was ever man so vex'd, &c. Given, with the 
 
 music, in Wit & Mirth, 1700, ii. 152; Pills, iv. 155. 
 
 — 28. Line 30. Note on Sauncing bell. See also The 
 
 Second Maiden's Tragedy, 161 1, Act ii. Sc. 2, — 
 " That drowns a saunce bell." 
 
 — 30. (Additional.) The two poems On a Great Heat, 
 
 and On a Mighty Rain, beginning respectively "/ 
 formerly in Countreys, &c, and "Heaven did not 
 Weep," &c, West. Droll., i. 67, 68, are by William 
 Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle, in his Comedy of 
 "The Country Captain," 1649. 
 
 — 30. Madam, I cannot Court, &c. The original poem, 
 
 of which this is the middle verse (modernized), is 
 attributed to no less a poet than Christopher 
 Marlow (who died, May, 1593), although marked 
 " Ignoto." Alexander Dyce gives it in both editions 
 of that dramatist, and another of our best modern 
 editors, Colonel Francis Cunningham, inserts it in 
 his "Mermaid Edition," p. 271. We transcribe 
 the rare original, printed "At Middleborugh," n.d., 
 about 1597, at end of the earliest edition of " Epi- 
 grammes and Elegies. By I. DTavies]. and C. 
 M[arlow]." It begins :— IGNOTO. 
 
406 ADDITIONAL NOTES TO THE 
 
 IGNOTO. 
 
 T Loue thee not for sacred chastitie, 
 •*■ Who loues for that? nor for thy sprightly ivit : 
 I loue thee not for thy siveete modestie, 
 Which makes thee in perfections throane to sit, 
 I loue thee not for thy inchaunting eye. 
 Thy beautie\^s\ rauishing perfection: 
 I loue thee not for tmchast luxurie, 
 Nor for thy bodies fair e proportion. 
 
 I loue thee not for that my soule doth daunce, 
 And leap ivith pleasure ivhen those lips of thine : 
 Give Musical I and graceful 'utterance, 
 To some (by thee made happie) poefs line. 
 
 I loue thee not for voice or slender small, 
 
 But ivilt thou knoiv ivherefore ? faire siveet\_,~\for all. 
 
 (Compare Thomas Carew's i( my dearest/' in Westm. 
 Droll., i. 91.) Wifs Interpreter keeps much closer to the 
 original than our version in W. D., and indeed gives true 
 readings where the "Tgnoto" is wrong. Guilding my 
 Saint (not Oiling); Buss thy fist (not fill), &c. Finally, 
 it reads "jerk thee soundly." An obliging correspon- 
 dent (W. G. Medlicott, of Long Meadow, Massachu- 
 setts) drew our attention to this. Third verse reads : — 
 
 Siveet ivench\_,~\ I loue thee, yet I ivil not sue, 
 
 Or sheiv my loue as muskie Courtiers doe, 
 
 lie not carouse a health to honor thee, 
 
 In this same bezling drunken curtesie : 
 
 and ivhen als quafde, eate up my bozusing glasse. 
 
 In glory that I am thy seruile asse. 
 
 Nor ivil I iveare a rotten burbon locke, 
 
 as some sivorne pesant to a female smock. 
 
 ivel featurde lasse, Thou knoivest I loue the\e\ deare\_,~\ 
 
 Yet for thy sake I ivil not bore mine eare. [,] 
 
 To hang thy durtie silken shoo\-]tires there. 
 
 nor for thy loue ivil I once gnash a brick, 
 
 Or some pied collours in my bonnet stiche. 
 but by the chaps of hell to do thee good, 
 He freely spend my Thrise decocted bloud. 
 
 — 32. 
 
WESTMINSTER DROLLERIES. 407 
 
 32. The Shakespeare Society, in 1846, printed the 
 ballad, " Come, all you Farmers out of the Country" 
 &c. We may include it in our third volume. 
 
 39. Beat on, Proud billoivs. As far as we are aware, 
 no claim to the authorship of this excellent Song 
 was ever advanced by Colonel Richard Love- 
 lace during his lifetime, or by his friends for him 
 in later time. It neither appears among his Lu- 
 casta Poems, 1649, nor among the "Posthume 
 Poems of Richard Lovelace, Esqre ," 1659. David 
 Lloyd, in his "Memoires of those that suffered" in 
 the cause of Charles I., 1668, certainly implies 
 that the author of it was still living, with no 
 other reward than " the conscience of having suf- 
 fered." Now, unless there were an earlier edition, 
 ten years earlier than 1668, (against the existence of 
 which are good reasons), this assertion by Lloyd 
 disposes of the claim advanced by a learned and 
 genial critic of Westminster Drolleries in the Ath- 
 enaeum of April 10th, 1875. Nor do we think the 
 internal evidence strongly in favour of Lovelace. 
 The parallelism indicated between his lines, 
 
 Minds innocent and quiet take 
 That for an Hermitage j 
 
 and the similar expression in " Beat on, proud bil- 
 lows," 
 
 Locks, Bars, and Solitude together met, 
 Makes me no Prisoner, but an Anchoret : 
 
 is such ( in our humble opinion ) as more resembles 
 an imitation, in the latter, of an already famous 
 poem (written certainly before 1649, an d then pub- 
 lished), than the self-repetition probable from a 
 poet who had already so fixed his idea. Tradition 
 assigns " Beat on, proud billows," to Sir Roger 
 U Estrange; but we confess to doubting the cor- 
 rectness of the supposition. It seems to us, firstly, 
 above his range ; secondly, he was appointed to the 
 lucrative office of Licenser (a hangman's duty, too 
 often), so early as 1665. How then can David 
 
 Lloyd's 
 
4o8 ADDITIONAL NOTES, &c. 
 
 Lloyd's assertion of the author being unrewarded, 
 &c, be held to apply to this already pampered 
 official ? It still remains in great part a question 
 of dates : Lloyd wrote thus after the Restoration. 
 
 — 42. As ive tvent ivandering. This is a variation of 
 
 "When I do travel in the night/' Merry Drollery, 
 Complete, p, 255 (p. 73, edit. 1661 ); see p. 393.* 
 
 — 46. Note on Wm. Hicks. We find Samuel Pepys 
 
 recording in his Diary, Sept. 25, 1663, "Pleased to 
 see Captn. Hickes come to me with a list of all the 
 officers of Deptford Yard, wherein he, being a 
 high old Cavalier, do give me an account of every 
 one of them to their reproach in all respects, and 
 discovers many of their knaverys," &c. An im- 
 portant bit, in its way, and not making much in 
 favour of the adventurer. 
 
 — 55. Line 29. Delete "&," (W. D. being for Westm. 
 
 Drollery,) and add this : — In J. P. Collier's Extracts, 
 Registers of Stationer's Company, i. 230, we find 
 under date 1569-70, a licence to Wyllm. Greffeth 
 for printing a ballad entitled Taken Napping, as 
 Mosse took his Meare. J. P. C. notes that the 
 proverb is not yet forgotten, and is in the collec- 
 tion by John Heywood. 
 
 — 63. Line 33. Delete " It appears to be still older, as" 
 
 and read " It is as early as 1632; and in," &c. 
 
 — 68. The Ballad, on a similar theme, entitled "The 
 
 Devonshire Damsels' Frollick," begins thus : — 
 
 "Tom and William, 'with Ned and Ben, 
 
 In all they uuere about nine or ten" &c. 
 
 See our next volume, and Rox. Col., iii. 137. 
 
 — 72. Bottom line but five, read John Crowne. 
 
 — 74. Line sixth. Read 161 8, not 1614. 
 Introduction to W. D., p. 19, line 11, (note), read 1673 : 
 
 uncertainty about 1672. The frontispiece referred 
 to on this page, and on p. 74 of Appendix, is now 
 being engraved for our Readers. It gives a valu- 
 able record of a Stage-interior at the exact date 
 of the Westminster Drolleries ; or, more probably, 
 immediately before the Restoration. J. W. E. 
 
 3k77-l 
 
DROLLERY RE-PRINTS. 
 
 Now in the Press, and shortly to be Published, 
 
 CHOICE DROLLERY: 
 
 Uniform with " Westminster Drolleries " and 
 " Merry Drollery, Complete!' 
 
 The third and concluding volume of the present 
 series of Drolleries (each complete in itself) contains 
 the whole of the rare Choice Drollery of 1656, 
 against which the Puritans waged war, destroying 
 every copy that could be obtained. Among the 
 contents are the remarkable verses on The Time-Poets, 
 beginning " One night the great Apollo, pleased with 
 Ben," referring to Jonson's companions, the dramatists 
 and songsters. Jack of Lenfs Ballat, 1625 5 The 
 Red Head and the White ; the account of Aldobran- 
 dino, a fat Cardinal; The Maid of Tottenham; The 
 Doctoi^s Touchsto?ie, with many amatory poems of 
 merit, and merry epigrams, diversify the volume. 
 Several songs are of historical importance, and, like 
 the above-named, are found nowhere but here. Such 
 are the ballads on Queen Elizabeth, and on King 
 James I., with another Upon the Scots being beaten at 
 Musselborough Field ; verses Upon the Gun Powder 
 Plot, and To the King on New Years Day, 1638. 
 Burlesque Lamentations, Catches, commingle with 
 Sonnets and tender Serenades, in praise of beauty and 
 chaste affection. The Western Husbandman sings 
 
 ihis complaint against the late wars, and Shepherds 
 lament the loss of their love. 
 
DROLLERY RE-PRINTS. 
 
 ADDITIONAL TO THIS, WE GIVE THE 34 SONGS 
 AND POEMS FOUND IN 
 
 Merry Drollery , 1661, 
 
 But omitted from the later editions. 
 
 Nearly two dozen of these are elsewhere unat- 
 tainable, among them being "A Puritan of late," The 
 Ladies Delight, The Tyrannical Wife, The Tinker, 
 The Maid a Bathing, A Letany, John and *jfone, 
 New England Described, The Insatiate Lover, and 
 Love' s Dream. 
 
 g3^ The above are all now reprinted for 
 
 the first time. 
 To further enrich the volume, the whole of the re- 
 maining Poems from the 
 
 Antidote against Melancholy, 
 1661 
 
 (not already given), are here added, so that four 
 complete works are reproduced in these three volumes. 
 
 The whole are carefully annotated in Appendices, 
 with a separate Editorial Introduction to each Col- 
 lection. Many rare poems from other Drolleries and 
 contemporary volumes help to illustrate the series, 
 which claims to be of a representative character, shew- 
 ing the Cavalier humours and fancies before and 
 after the Restoration. 
 
 ggT The above, together, will form the Third and 
 concluding volume of t/te u Drollery Reprints." 
 
DROLLERY RE-PRINTS. 
 
 Now ready. Small 8vo., ios. 6d. Cloth, uncut. 
 
 A RE-PRINT 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Westminster Drollery, 
 
 1671, 1672. 
 
 TO those who are already acquainted with the 
 two parts of the Westminster Drollery, published 
 in 1 67 1 and 1672, it must have appeared strange that 
 no attempt has hitherto been made to bring these de- 
 lightful volumes within reach of the students of our 
 early literature. The originals are of extreme rarity, 
 a perfect copy seldom being attainable at any public 
 sale, and then fetching a price that makes a book- 
 hunter almost despair of its acquisition. So great a 
 favourite was it in the Cavalier times, that most copies 
 have been literally worn to pieces in the hands of its 
 many admirers, as they chanted forth a merry stave 
 from the pages. There is no collection of songs sur- 
 passing it in the langitage, and as representative of the 
 lyrics of the first twelve years after the Restoration 
 it is unequalled : by far the greater number are else- 
 where unattainable. 
 
 The Westminster Drolleries are reprinted with 
 the utmost fidelity, page for page, and line for line, 
 not a word being altered, or a single letter departing 
 from the original spelling. 
 
 IglP An indifferent copy of the original edition of 
 the Westminster Drollery was sold by auction last year 
 for ^22 ios. to a bookseller. 
 
DROLLERY RE-PRINTS. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS, &c. 
 
 "Strafford Lodge, Oatlands Park, 
 
 Surrey, Feb. 4, 1875. 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I received the "Westminster Drolleries" 
 yesterday evening. I have spent nearly the whole of this 
 day in reading it. I can but give unqualified praise to the 
 editor, both for his extensive knowledge and for his admi- 
 rable style. The printing and the paper do great credit 
 to your press. I miss only the old title page to the first 
 part. I enclose a post-office order to pay for my copy. 
 Yours truly, 
 Mr. Robert Roberts. Wm. Chappell." 
 
 From J. O. Halliuuell, Esqre. 
 
 "No. 11, Tregunter Road, West Brorhpton, 
 London, S. W., 
 Dear Sir, 25th Feby. 1875. 
 
 I am charmed with the edition of the 
 "Westminster Drollery." One half of the reprints of the 
 present day are rendered nearly useless to exact students 
 either by alterations or omissions, or by attempts to make 
 eclectic texts out of more than one edition. By all means 
 let us have introductions and notes, especially when as 
 good as Mr. Ebsworth's, but it is essential for objects of 
 reference that one edition only of the old text be accurately 
 reproduced. The book is certainly admirably edited. 
 Yours truly, 
 To Mr. R. Roberts. J. O. Phillipps." 
 
 From F. J. Furni<vall, Esq. 
 
 "3, St. George's Square, Primrose Hill, London, N.W., 
 
 2nd February, 1875. 
 My Dear Sir, 
 
 I have received the handsome large paper 
 copy of your "Westminster Drolleries." I am very glad 
 to see that the book is really edited, and that well, by a 
 man so thoroughly up in the subject as Mr. Ebsworth. 
 
 Truly yours, 
 
 F. J. F." 
 
DROLLERY RE-PRINTS. 
 
 From the Editor of the "Fuller's Worthies Library " 
 " Wordsworth' s Prose Works," &c. 
 "Park View, Blackburn, 
 
 Lancashire, 13th July, 1875. 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I got the " Westminster Drolleries " at 
 once, and I will see after the " Merry Drollery " when 
 published. 
 
 Go on and prosper. Mr. Ebsworth is a splendid fellow, 
 evidently. Yours, 
 
 A. B. Grosart." 
 
 J. P. Collier, Esqre., has also written warmly com- 
 mending the work, in private letters to the Editor, which 
 he holds in especial honour. 
 
 From the "Academy," July 10th, 1875. 
 
 " It would be a curious though perhaps an unprofitable 
 speculation, how far the ( Conservative reaction ' has been 
 reflected in our literature Reprints are an impor- 
 tant part of modern literature, and in them there is a 
 perceptible relaxation of severity. Their interest is no 
 longer mainly philological. Of late, the Restoration has 
 been the favourite period for revival. Its dramatists are 
 marching down upon us from Edinburgh, and the invasion 
 is seconded by a royalist movement in Lincolnshire. A 
 Boston publisher has begun a series of drolleries — in- 
 tended, not for the general public, but for those students 
 who can afford to pay handsomely for their predilection 
 for the byways of letters. 
 
 " The Introduction is delightful reading, with quaint 
 fancies here and there, as in the e imagined limbo of un- 
 finished books.' .... There is truth and pathos in his 
 1 excuses for the royalist versifiers who ( snatched hastily, 
 1 recklessly, at such pleasures as came within their reach, 
 i heedless of price or consequences.' We may not admit 
 that they were ( outcasts without degradation,' but we can 
 hardly help allowing that ( there is a manhood visible in 
 their failures, a generosity in their profusion and unrest. 
 They are not stainless, but they affect no concealment of 
 faults. Our heart goes to the losing side, even when the 
 
DROLLERY RE-PRINTS. 
 
 loss has been in great part deserved.' .... The fact is, 
 that in his contemplation of the follies and vices of ' that 
 very distant time ' he loses all apprehension of their 
 grosser elements, and retains only an appreciation of their 
 wit, their elegance, and their vivacity. Without offence 
 be it said, in Lancelot's phrase, 'he does something 
 smack, something grow to ; he has a kind of taste,' — and 
 so have we too, as we read him. These trite and ticklish 
 themes he touches with so charming a liberality that his 
 generous allowance is contagious. We feel in thoroughly 
 honest company, and are ready to be heartily charitable 
 along with him. For his is no unworthy tolerance of vice, 
 still less any desire to polish its hardness into such facti- 
 tious brilliancy as glistens in Grammont. It is a manly 
 pity for human weakness, and an unwillingness to see, 
 much less to pry into, human depravity. ' It would have 
 been a joy for us to know that these songs were wholly 
 unobjectionable ; but he who waits to eat of fruit without 
 speck must go hungry through many an orchard, even 
 past the apples of the Hesperides.' .... The little book 
 is well worth the attention of any one desirous to have a 
 bird's-eye view of the Restoration ' Society.' Its scope is 
 far wider than its title would indicate. The ' Drolleries ' 
 include not only the rollicking rouse of the staggering 
 blades who ' love their humour well, boys,' the burlesque 
 of the Olympian revels in ' Hunting the Hare,' the wild 
 vagary of Tom of Bedlam, and the gibes of the Benedicks 
 of that day against the holy estate, but lays of a delicate 
 and airy beauty, a dirge or two of exquisite pathos, homely 
 ditties awaking patriotic memories of the Armada and the 
 Low Country wars, and 'loyal cantons' sung to the 
 praise and glory of King Charles. The ' late and true 
 story of a furious scold ' might have enriched the budget 
 of Autolycus, and Feste would have found here a store of 
 ' love-songs,' and a few ' songs of good life.' The collec- 
 tion is of course highly miscellaneous. After the stately 
 measure may come a jig with homely 'duck and nod,' or 
 even a dissonant strain from the 'riot and ill-managed 
 merriment ' of Comus, 
 
 1 Midnight shout, and revelry, 
 Tipsy dance, and jollity.'" 
 
DROLLERY RE-PRINTS. 
 
 From the "Bookseller," March, 1875. 
 
 " If we wish to read the history of public opinion we 
 must read the songs of the times : and those who help us 
 to do this confer a real favour. Mr. Thomas Wright has 
 done enormous service in this way by his collections of 
 political songs. Mr. Chappell has done better by giving 
 us the music with them; but much remains to be done. 
 On examining the volume before us, we are surprised to 
 find so many really beautiful pieces,, and so few of the 
 coarse and vulgar. Even the latter will compare favour- 
 ably with the songs in vogue amongst the fast men in the 
 early part of the present century. 
 
 The " Westminster Drolleries" consist of two collections 
 of poems and songs sung at Court and theatres, the first 
 published in 167 1, and the second in 1672. Now for the 
 first time reprinted. The editor, Mr. J. Woodfall 
 Ebsworth, has prefaced the volume with an interesting 
 introduction . . . and, in an appendix of nearly eighty 
 pages at the end, has collected a considerable amount of 
 bibliographical and anecdotical literature. Altogether, 
 ive think this may be pronounced the best edited of all the 
 reprints of old literature, which are now pretty numerous. 
 A word of commendation must also be given to Mr. 
 Roberts, of Boston, the publisher and printer — the volume 
 is a credit to his press, and could have been produced in 
 its all but perfect condition only by the most careful atten- 
 2 tion and watchful oversight." 
 
 From the " Athenceum," April 10th, 1875. 
 
 '* Mr. Ebsworth has, we think, made out a fair case in 
 :j-his Introduction for reprinting the volume without exci- 
 tpsion. The book is not intended virginibus puerisque, but 
 ilil to convey to grown men a sufficient idea of the manners 
 :-|and ideas which pervaded all classes in society at the 
 
 yhtime of the reaction from the Puritan domination 
 
 jrnMr. Ebsworth's Introduction is well written. He speaks 
 jdpwith zest of the pleasant aspects of the Restoration 
 period, and has some words of praise to bestow upon the 
 f Merry Monarch' himself. . . . Let us add that his own 
 : < Prelude," "Entr' Acte," and "Finale" are fair speci- 
 mens of versification." 
 
APOPHTHEGMES 
 OF ERASMUS. 
 
 A RE-PRINT 
 
 Of the 1564 Edition of this fine old book is now in 
 the press, and will shortly be ready. 
 
 IT IS BEAUTIFULLY 
 
 Printed in the Old Style, 
 
 in demy 8vo., 
 ON OLD-FASHIONED LAID PAPER. 
 
 Limited to 250 Copies, at 21s. each to Subscribers. 
 
 RE-PRINTS of other Rare and Valuable Books 
 are in progress, of which fuller particulars will be given 
 in due time, by Robert Roberts, Boston, Lincolnshire. 
 
 3 Hir -< 
 
Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: Jan. 2009 
 
 PreservationTechnologies 
 
 A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 
 
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