Part 10

[52.] Three loytring companions that fell in company together, domineered and swaggered so long, that all their mony was quite consumed and gone. So being pennilesse, and having little or no credit at all left, one of them said, Wee are now in a faire taking: for we may, if we please seek our Dinners with Duke _Humphry_. Nay, hold (quoth the second) If I come where any presse of people be, I can get mony enough for us all. And I (quoth the third) can as easily assemble people. They were at that time not much above two miles from a small Towne in Bark shire, where, when as thither they came, there was a new Pillory, newly set up, which the third of them seeing, steps to the Bailiffe, and desires him to have the first turn at their new Pillory. The Bailiffe, being a Butcher, was half amazed, and standing a while musing, at the last asked counsell of his honest neighbours, and they bad him set up the knave and spare not. So he makes no more a doe, but up he went, and when he was up, he looked about, and saw his two fellow Cheaters busie with their hands in the holes of the Butcher's aprons, where they put all their money. To it, to it (quoth he) apace. The people laughed heartily to see him stand there. At last, when he saw that his fellows had sped their matters, and were going away, he said to the Bailiffe, Turn the Pillory about, and now I will come down. So he, laughing heartily, did. And when he was come down, the Bailiffe said, now art thou an honest good fellow, and because thou hast made us some sport, I will give thee a Teaster to drink; and, thinking to take some money out of the hole of his apron, he found there never a penny. Cockes armes, quoth the Bailiffe, my money is picked out of my apron; and then the rest of the Butcher's besides swore they had lost theirs also. I hope, quoth the fellow, you do not think that I have it. No, certainly, quoth the Bailiffe, I know well enough thou hast it not; for thou wert on the pillory all the while. Why then no harm, for I did it to make you merry, quoth the fellow, and so went his wayes.

Gentlemen that approch about my Stall, [51.] To most rare Phisicke I invite you all; Come neere and harken what I have to sell, And deale with mee all those that are not well. In this Boxe heere, I have such precious stuffe, To give it prayse, I have not words enuffe: If any Humour in your Braines be crept, I'le fetch it out, as if your heads were swept. Almost through _Europe_ I have shewne my face In every Towne, and every Market-place-- Behold this salve, (I do not use to lye) Whole Hospitals there have been curde thereby. I doe not stand heere like a tattar'd slave, My Velvet, and my Chaine of Gold I have: Which cannot be maintained by mens lookes; Friends, all your Towne is hardly worth my Bookes. There stands my Coach and Horses, t'is mine owne; From hence to _Turkie_ is my credite knowne: In sooth I cannot boast, as many will, Let nothing speake for mee, but onely skill. See you that thing like Ginger-bread lies there. My tongue cannot expresse to any eare The sundrie vertues that it doth containe, Or number halfe the Wormes that it hath slaine. If in your Bellies there be crawlers bred In multitudes like Haires upon your head, Within some howers space, or there about, At all the holes you have, I'le fetch them out, And ferret them before that I have done, Even like the Hare that foorth a Bush doth run. Heere is a wond'rous Water for the Eye; This for the Stomacke: Maisters will you buy? When I am gone, you will repent too late, And then (like fooles) among yourselves will prate, Oh that we had that famous Man againe, When I shall be suppli'd in _France_ or _Spaine_: Now, for a _Stater_,[F. 86] you a Box shall have That will the lives of halfe a dozen save. My man has come, and in mine eare he sayes At home for me at least an hundred stayes, All Gentlemen; yet for your Good, you see, I make them tarry, and attend for mee. If that you have no Money, let me know, Phisicke of almes upon you Ile bestow. What Doctor in the world can offer more? Such arrant Clownes I never knew before: Heere you doe stand like Owles and gaze on mee, But not a Penny from you I can see. A man shall come to doe such Dunces good, And cannot have his meaning understood? To talke to senselesse people is in vaine, I'le see you hang'd ere I'le come heere againe: Be all diseas'd as bad as Horses be And die in ditches like to Dogges, for me! An Old-wives-medicine, Parseley, Time and Sage, Will serve such Buzzards in this scurvey age: Goose grease and Fennell, with a few Dog-dates, Is excellent for such base lowzey mates: Farewell, some Hempton[F. 87] halter be the Charme, To stretch your neckes as long as is mine arme.

[Footnote 86: A "façon de parler;" a stater really was a tetradrachm in silver, and was worth about half a crown.]

[Footnote 87: Hempen.]

The following is a Satire on card-playing, which, doubtless, was carried to excess by the Cavaliers in Charles I.'s time.

[58.]

[59.] A Continuation of a Catalogue of Ladies to be set up by AUCTION, on _Monday_ the 6^{th} of this Instant _July_.

Catalogues are distributed by the Booksellers of _London_ & _Westminster_.

CONDITIONS OF SALE.

_First._ He who bids most is the Buyer, and if any Difference arises, she is to be put up again.

_Secondly._ That no Person shall bid less than £500 the first Proposal, and always advance £100.

_Thirdly._ That all of them shall be bound up in Silks; and if any shall happen to be otherwise, the Party that buys them shall be at Liberty to take them away or leave them.

By _E. Cl----r_ Auctioneer that sold the young Heiress in _Q----_ Street.

£ 1. One brisk Underbuilt young Widdow near _Temple Bar_ 1000

2. A Buxome young Maid of 19 years of age, who stinks of powder, by the same _Barr_, provided her Father hath not given the £800 to the Poor, will be worth 2000

3. A Vintner's Widdow, who formerly lived against _St Dunstan's_ Church, by reason of her non-Reputation 500

4. Three Sisters in _Shier Lane_ very brisk, but 2^{nd} hand, and go for Maids, each 800

5. An old Maiden-Sempstress in Fleet Street. 500

6. A Booksellers only Daughter in _S^t Paul's_ Church Yard, if her Fathers Debts be all paid, value. 1600

7. A rich Widdow, Humptback, and crooked Legs, who has buried 2 Husb. 1900

8. A Country Farmer's Daughter, lately come to town, and lodges in _Essex Street_, a good face, but an ugly gate. 1100

9. A famous Conventicler's Daughter, near _Covent Garden_, provided he has a good gathering this year, will give her 1500

10. A Councellor's Daughter in the _Temple_, very well accomplished, only loves Brandy 2300

11. An _Irish_ Lady, very tall, aged 16. 2700

12. A Soliciters Daughter, not streight but a good Face. 4000

13. Two Sisters, tall handsome Women, lodging by _Shooe Lane_, each 1000

14. A Plummers Daughter, in _Fleet Street_, brisk and airy, not to be bought under a Coach and 6. 1200

15. A Taylor's Daughter in the same Court, with a Flaxen Tow'r to cover her Carret head, worth 800

16. A Fat Widdow of _S^t Brides_ Parish, she is but a little foolish, a Lumping Penny worth, 200

17. An Ale house keepers Daughter in _Bell-yard_, worth 0000 (To advance a Cravat String of 18^d each bidding)

18. A Barbers Wife near _S^t Dunstans_ Church, lately divorced from her Husband, a pretty Woman, and fit for service. What you please

19. The Widdow of the Famous _Dr S----fold_, late Student in Physick Astrology and Poetry, besides her Talent in a Napkin. 200 per. Ann.

20. A young Orphan, Right Honourable by the Fathers side, and Right by the Mothers 3000

One a Licence had got [12.] For to begg, God wot, And of a poor Scholar begg'd a Doller; Thou hast Lice I do fear, But no sence, I swear, For to begg of a very poor Scholar.

[18.] An Author's House being on fire whilst he was poring on his Books, he called to his Wife and bad her look to it. _You know_, says he, _I don't concern myself with the household_.

[17.] One parting a Fray, was cut into the Scul: says the Surgeon, Sir, one may see your brains: Nay then I'l be hang'd, says he, for if I had had any brains, I had never come there.

[17.] A Gentleman losing his way galloping furiously over the plow'd Lands towards _Tame_, and meeting one, said, Friend is this the way to _Tame?_ Yes Sir, says he, your Horse, if he be as wild as the Devil.

THE VIRGIN RACE

_Or, York-shires Glory_.

Being an Account of a Race lately Run at _Temple-Newnham-Green_; None being admitted to run, but such as were supposed Virgins. The first that came to the two Miles-Race end, was to have a Silver Spoon, the second, a silver bodkin, the third a Silver Thimble, and the fourth Nothing at all.

Tune is, _a New Game at Cards_.

You that do desire to hear, [60.] Of a Virgin Race run in _York-Shire_, Come and Listen, I'le declare, Such News before, you never did hear; For I think since the World begun But seldom Virgins Races run.

Four Virgins that supposed were A Race did run I now declare, Sure such a Race was never seen, As this at _Temple Newnham Green_. In half-shirts & Drawers these Maids did run But Bonny _Nan_ the Race has won

A Silver Spoon this _Nan_ obtain'd The next a Silver Bodkin gain'd The third that was not quite so nimble, Was to have a Silver Thimble; And she that was the last of all. Nothing unto her share did fall.

In Drawers Red _Ann Clayton_ run, And she it was the Race that won; _Pegg Hall_ as I may tell to you, Did run in Drawers that were Blew; Honest _Alice Hall_ that was the third, Her Drawers were white upon my word.

A concourse great of People were For to behold these Virgins there, Who so well acted the Mans part, And love a Man with all their heart; But what means this, for well we know Maids through the Nation all do so.

Now let us come to Bonny _Nan_, Who won a Race once of a man, In _Bassing Hall Street_ he did dwell His name was _Luke_, 'tis known full well; And let me now declare to you, At something else she'l beat him too.

Let none the _York-shire_ Girls despise Who are so Active now a days, So brisk and nimble they do grow, That few can match them, I do know: Then let us stand up for _York shire_, Those Country Girls I love most dear.

A _York shire_ Girl who can outvie, No City Girls can them come nigh, They've Rosey Blushes in their Cheeks, While City Girls are Green as Leeks, This with my fancy will agree A _York shire_ Girl shall be for me.

Then here's a Health to a _York shire_ Girl, For in my eye she is a Pearl Whose Beauty doth so charm mine eye, That for her I would freely dye. Her virtues do her face adorn, And makes her look fresh as the Morn.

Now to conclude unto my friend These Lines I freely recommend; Advising him above the rest, To love a _Yorkshire_ Girl the best; But let him use his skill for I Will love a _Yorkshire_ Girl until I dye

FINIS

Printed for J Wright, J Clark, W Thackeray, and T. Passinger--

[61.] There were two good fellows of ancient society (who had not seen one another in a great space of tyme) that one morning very luckily met each other in _Budge Row_, and after some signes of gladnesse to meet so happily, they agreed upon a mornings draught, which lasted almost till noon, in which time they were both sufficiently liquor'd. But their bellies being fuller than their brains, they did resolve to bring up the rear of that morning's action with a Cup of Canary; away they went to the Swan Tavern at _Dowgate_, where for three hours longer they sat pecking at one another, like two Game Cocks at the end of a battaile, untill both their Eyes were in a very glimmering Condition. In the mean time, whilst they were thus toaping, there fell an exceeding violent and continuing glut of Rain, so that it flowed up to the threshold of the Tavern door, and no passenger could get over: By this time my good fellows having call'd, and paid the reckoning, they both came reeling to the door, and seeing so broad a water tumbled down _Dowgate_, one of them swore it was the Thames, and began to call a Sculler; the other being unwilling to engage further, said he would take his leave, which he did with so low a bending Complement, that his britch touching a little too hard against the stump of a post which was behind him, that it made him rebound into the middle of the stream with his head forward. The unfortunate fellow was no sooner in, but he began to stretch forth his Armes and Leggs to swim; the other which stood upon the shore, cryed out lamentably for the danger of his friend, and deploring the loss of so good a fellow, and what loss his Wife and Children would suffer in his death. But in conclusion (as the last word of Comfort) he calls out to him in these words. Dost thou hear Friend! Friend! if thou canst but Gaine _Temple Staire's_ thou wilt be safe, I warrant thee, unto which the swimming man made reply. A pox of Gaine, I do not think of Gaine, if I can but save myself, I care not.

_Quidam erat._

A preaching fryar there was, who thus began, [5.] The Scripture saith there was a certaine man: A certaine man? but I do read no where, Of any certaine woman[F. 88] mention'd there: A certaine man, a phrase in Scripture common, But no place shewes there was a Certaine Woman: And fit it is, that we should ground our faith On nothing more than what the Scripture saith.

[Footnote 88: This is hardly warranted by fact. See Mark xii. 42; Luke xi. 27; Luke xxiv. 22.]

A fellow once said [12.] He would ne're keep his Bed, Though sick, I heard him to tell it, And his Reason was, Nay I know the Cause, For he still had a mind to Sell it.

[26.] A great _German_ Prince, that was much addicted to Drinking, had drank so much one day, that the next he was very sick; then his Fool came in to him and askt him, why he was so melancholly? he told him his Sickness was occasion'd by drinking yesterday: Why then, says the Fool, if that be all, I'll be your Physician; that is, if you are ill with drinking one day, take a Hare of the same Dog. Well, says the Prince, and what the second day? The Fool told him the same again: And what the third day? the same too. And what at the fourth? Why the same. We'll come to the purpose, says he, and what the fifth day? Why Faith, says he, then you'll be as arrant a Fool as I am.

Mercurius Matrimonialis

or

Chapmen for the Ladies lately Offered to Sale by Way of Auction.

(procured by one of their own Sex)

1. A Country Gentleman, who has a very delicate Seat [62.] between 20 and 30 Miles off _London_, and a very considerable Estate, a very Proper Comely Person, but not very Witty.

2. A Linnen Draper near the Stocks _Market_, a very handsome Genteel Man.

3. A Milliner on the _Royal Exchange_, much admired for his Handsomness and Gentility.

4. A Clergyman near _Exeter_, but now in Town, a pretty Black Man, a very good Scholar, proposes for a Joynture £200 per Ann. in Free-land.

5. A Bookseller near the _Exchange_ a very Sober Man, a Man of a Good Trade, besides some Estate.

6. A Linnen Drapers Son in _Cornhill_, a very pretty genteel Man, his Father a Man of a very good Estate.

7. A Goldsmith behind the _Exchange_--so, so.--

8. A Miliner in _Cheapside_, near the end of _Bread Street_, very genteel but no conjurer.

9. For the Brewers Daughter, a Lace Man in _Pater Noster Row_, who loves the smell of Malt and good Ale, of good heighth and Stature, and Stomach answerable.

10. A Coffee Man, well lin'd with Broad Pieces of Gold, and has a good Trade, a Widdower, wants a Bar keeper.

11. A lusty, stout proportion'd Man, had a good Estate before the Fire,[F. 89] and is still fit for Woman's Service.

12. A Bookseller's Son in _Paul's Church yard_, an extream Genteel man, and of the same kidney as the Mercer in _Covent Garden_.

13. A Commission Officer, full of Courage, brim full of Honour, a well proportion'd Man, and very beautiful and yet wants Money.

14. An Apothecary near _Bread Street Hill_, a very genteel Man, a Widdower.

15. A Young Gentleman now learning to Dance, wants a Wife to guide him, his Estate £150 per Ann.

16. A Haberdasher's Son in _Cheapside_, makes a great Figure in the World, his Education good, only wants a Wife, or Place.

17. A diminutive Bookseller, very difficult in his Choice, £5000 proves a Temptation to him.

18. A Mercer upon _Ludgate Hill_, Kin to a good Estate, his Trade indifferent:

19. A young Merchant, whose Estate lyes on the _Carriby Islands_, if his Cargo misses the _French Fleet_, he makes a good Joynture.

20. An Ancient Gentleman now purchasing an Estate, wants a rich Wife to stand by him.

21. A Goldsmith near the _Royal Exchange_, a Widdower, of a very considerable Estate, besides a great Trade, will make a good Joynture, and perhaps keep a Coach, he's a very brisk Man.

[Footnote 89: Although this "squib" is not dated, this allusion makes it probable it was written in Charles II.'s time.]

One Climbing of a Tree, by hap, [51.] Fell downe and brake his arme, And did complaine unto a friend, Of his unluckie harme. Would I had counsel'd you before, (quoth he to whom he spake) I know a tricke for Climbers, that They never hurt shall take. Neighbour (sayd he) I have a Sonne, And he doth use to climbe, Pray let me know the same for him Against another time? Why thus, (quoth he) let any man That lives, climbe nere so hie, And make no more haste downe, than up, No harme can come thereby.

[61.] A Gentleman who had constantly beene a good fellow, meeting with some of his friends at a mornings draught, told his Companions that, God forgive him, _he went to bed like a beast_ last night. Why? quoth they, were you so _drunk_? No, quoth he, _I was so sober_.

SELDOME CLEANELY[F. 90]

or

A merry new Ditty, wherein you may see, The tricke of a Huswife, in every degree. Then lend your attention while I doe unfold As pleasant a story as you have heard told.

To the Tune of _Upon a Summers time_.

Draw neere you Countrey Girles [63.] and lissen unto me, Ile tell you here a new conceit concerning Huswifery, concerning Huswifery.

Three Aunts I had of late, good Huswifes all were they, But cruell death hath taken the best of them away, O the best &c--

O this was one of my Aunts, the best of all the three, And surely though I say it myselfe a cleanly woman was she, a cleanly &c.

My Uncle carelesse was in wasting of his store, Which made my Aunt to have a care to looke about the more, to looke &c--

When Winter time drew on neere to All hollow day: My Aunt did cast her wits about to save her Straw and Hay. _to save &c_--

And like a provident woman, as plainely did apeare, She starv'd her Bullockes to save her Hay, untill another yeare. _O this was one of my Aunts, the best of all the three And surely, though I say't myselfe a provident woman was shee._

But as she went to see her cattell in the fields: When she comes home, two pound of durt hang dragling at her heeles. _O this &c_

And there she let it hang from Candlemas to May, And then shee tooke a hatchet in hand, and chopt it cleane away. _O this &c_

In making of a cheese my Aunt shewed her cunning, Such perfit skill shee had at will, shee never used running.[F. 91] _O this &c_

For having strain'd her milke in turning once about, Shee had the best Curd that ever you saw by the sent[F. 92] of the strayning clout. _O this &c_

Shee was the choysest Nurse that lived in all the West; Her face was white as the charcoal flower so was her neck and brest. _O this was one of my Aunts_, _the best of all the three_, _And surely, though I say't myselfe_, _a cleanly good Nurse was shee_.

The garments which she did weare did shine like the brazen Crock, And where she went, she bore such a sent that the flyes blew in her frock. _O this &c_

My Aunt so curious was, as I to you may tell, She used to make fat puddings in markets for to sell. _O this &c_

The smallest Candle end my Aunt would never lose It would helpe to make her puddings fat with the droppings of her nose. _O this &c_

Another trick she had as I shall now declare, Shee never swept the house, about foure times a yeare. _O this &c_

And when she swept the Hall, the Parler or the Spence, The dust was worth to her at least, a shilling or 14 pence. _O this &c_

One day my Aunt was set by the fier side a spinning, As she knew well what was to do to wollen or to linnen. _O this &c_

A change came in her minde, her worke being in great hast, She burn'd her Tow, her Wheele and all because she would make no wast. _O this &c_

My Aunt so patient was of this I dare be bold, That with her Neighbours shee was never knowne to scolde. _O this &c_

Her lips with lothsome words she seldome would defile, But sometimes she would whisper so loud you might heare her half a mile _O this &c_

Yet one condition more unto you I will show, Shee washt her dishes once a moneth, and set them on a row. _O this &c_

If other wise she had but of a dish clout faile, She would set them to the Dog to lick and wipe them with his tayle. _O this &c_

But to conclude in hast, I hold it not amisse, I love a cleanly huswife well as may appeare by this. _O this was one of my Aunts_ _the best of all the three_, _And surely, though I say't myselfe_, _a cleanely woman was she_. L. P[F. 93]

FINIS.

London. Printed for John Wright _junior_,[F. 94] dwelling at the upper end of the Old Baily.

[Footnote 90: For tune, see Appendix.]

[Footnote 91: Rennet.]

[Footnote 92: Scent.]