Part 17

[82.] An unhappy boy that kept his father's sheepe in the country, did use to carry a paire[F. 161] of Cards in his pocket, and meeting with boyes as good as himselfe would fall to Cards at the Cambrian game of whip-her-ginny,[F. 162] or English one and thirty; at which sport, hee would some dayes lose a sheepe or two: for which if his father corrected him, hee (in revenge) would drive the sheepe home at night over a narrow bridge, where some of them falling besides the bridge, were drowned in the swift brooke. The old man being wearied with his ungracious dealing, complained to a Justice, thinking to affright him from doing any more the like. In briefe, before the Justice the youth was brought, where (using small reverence, and lesse manners) the Justice said to him, Sirrah, you are a notable villaine, you play at Cards, and lose your father's sheepe at one and thirty. The Boy replied that it was a lye. A lye, quoth the Justice, you saucy knave, dost thou give me the lye? No, qd the boy, I gave thee not the lye, but you told me the lye, for I never lost sheepe at one and thirty; for when my game was one and thirty I alwayes wonne. Indeed, said the Justice thou saist true, but I have another accusation against thee, which is, that you drive your fathers sheepe over a narrow bridge where some of them are oftentimes drowned: That's a lye too, quoth the boy, for those that go over the bridge are well enough, it is onely those that fall beside which are drowned: Whereto the Justice said to the boys father, Old man, thou hast brought in two false accusations against thy sonne for he never lost sheepe at one and thirty, nor were there ever any drowned that went over the bridge.

[Footnote 161: A pack.]

[Footnote 162: The same author mentions this game again in "Taylors Motto," as also many other games then in vogue, the names of which are curious--

"The Prodigall's estate, like to a flux, The Mercer, Draper, and the Silk man sucks; The Taylor, Millainer, Dogs, Drabs and Dice, Trey trip or Passage, or the Most at thrice; At Irish, Tick tacke, Doublets, Draughts or Chesse, He flings his money free with carelessnesse: At Novum, Mumchance, mischance (chuse ye which) At One and Thirty, or at Poore and rich, Ruffe, flam, Trump, noddy, whisk, hole, Sant, New Cut, Unto the keeping of foure Knaves he'l put His whole estate at Loadum, or at Gleeke, At Tickle me quickly, he's a merry Greeke, At Primefisto, Post and payre, Primero, Maw, Whip-her-ginny, he's a lib'rall _Hero_; At My-sow-pigg'd: and (Reader never doubt ye, He's skill'd in all games except) Looke about ye. Bowles, shove-groate, tennis, no game comes amiss, His purse a purse for any body is." ]

The

Unfortunate WELCH MAN

or

The Untimely Death of _Scotch_ Jockey.

If her will Fight, her cause to right, as daring to presume To Kill and Slay, then well her may take this to be her Doom.

To the Tune of The _Country Farmer_.

This may be Printed _R.P._

Stout _Shonny-ap-Morgan_ to _London_ would ride, [92.] To seek Cousen _Taffie_ whatever betide; Her own Sisters Son, whom her loved so dear, Her had not beheld him this many long year: Betimes in the morning stout _Shonny_ arose, And then on the Journey with Courage her goes, A _Cossit_[F. 163] of Gray was the best of her Close, Her Boots they were out at the heels and the toes.

A Sword by her side, and with _Bob_ the Gray Mare, Her rid on the Road like a Champion so rare; At last how it happened to her hard Lot, To meet with young _Jockey_, a bonny brisk Scot; Then _Jockey_ was jolly, and thus he did say, Let's gang to the Tavern, drink wine by my fay, Then _Shonny_ consented, and made no delay, But _Jockey_ left _Shonny_ the Reckoning to pay.

While _Morgan_ was merry, and thinking no ill, The _Scotchman_ he used the best of his skill; Considering how he might scamper away, For why Sir, he never intended to pay: But like a false Loon he slipt out of door, And never intended to come there no more, Poor Shonny-ap-Morgan, was left for the Score, Cotzo her was never so served before.

Her paying the Shot, then away her went, The _Welch_ blood was up, and her mind was bent, For speedy pursuing he then did prepare, Then Morgan did mount upon _Bob_ the Gray Mare: Then Whip and Spur stout _Shonny_ did ride, And overtook _Jockey_ near to a Wood side, And pull'd out her Sword in the height of her Pride, And wounded poor _Jockey_ who presently dy'd.

Then _Shonny_ was taken and hurry'd to Jail, Where her till the Sessions did weep and bewail; And then at the last, by the Laws of the Land, Was brought to the Bar to hold up her Hand; O good her Lord Shudge poor _Shonny_ did cry, Now Whip her, and send her to Wales her Country; Or cut off a Leg, or an Arm, or an Eye, For her is undone, if Condemned to dye.

But this would not do, poor _Shonny_ was cast, And likewise received her sentence at last; A Gentleman Robber just at the same time, Received just Sentence then due for his Crime; Then _Shonny-ap-Morgan_ her shed many tears, Her heart was possessed with sorrow and fears, The Gentleman Thief likewise hung down his ears, For then he expected his antient Arrears.

The day being come, they must both bid adieu, Forsaking the world and the rest of their Crew; The Spark was attir'd so gallant and gay, But _Shonny_ was poor, and in ragged array: And when they came both to the Gibbet Tree, The Gentleman gave to the Hangman a Fee, And said, let this _Welch man_ Hang farther from me, So vile and so ragged a Rascal is he.

The Welch-man he heard him, and was in a rage, That nothing almost, could his anger asswage; But fretting and chaffing, he thus did begin, Her will make her to know that her came of good kin; Besides her will tell her her hearty belief, That her is no more than a Gentleman Thief, That robbed on the Roads, and the Plain and the Heath, Her now will Hang by her in spight of her teeth.

FINIS.

Printed for _J. Deacon_ at the _Angel_ in Guiltspur Street.

[Footnote 163: ? Corset.]

[82.] A Country fellow (that had not walked much in streets that were paved) came to _London_, where a dog came suddenly out of a house, and furiously ran at him: the fellow stooped to take up a stone to cast at the Dog, and finding them all fast rammed, or paved in the ground; quoth hee, what strange Country am I in? where the people tye up the stones, and let the dogs loose.

[93.] _George_ (_Peele_), with others of his Associates, being mery together at the Taverne, having more store of Coyne than usually they did possesse; although they were regardlesse of their silver, yet they intended for a season to be good husbands, if they knew how to be sparing of that their pockets were then furnished withall: Five pounds they had amongst them, and a plot must be cast how they might bee merrie with extraordinarie cheere three or foure dayes, and keepe their five pounds whole in stocke: _George Peele_ was the man must doe it, or none, and generally they coniured him by their loves, his owne credit, and the reputation that went on him, that he would but in this shew his wit: and, withall, hee should have all the furtherance that in them lay. _George_ as easie, as they earnest, to be wonne to such an exploit, consented and gathered their money together, and gave it all to _George_, who should be their purse bearer, and the other foure should seeme as servants to _George Peele_ and the better to colour it, they should goe change their cloakes, the one like the other, so neere as they could possible: the which, at _Beelzebub's_ brother, the Broker's, they might quickly doe: This was soone accomplished, and _George_ was furnished with his blacke Sattin suit, and a paire of bootes, which were as familiar to his legges, as the pillory to a Bakers or Colliers[F. 164] necke, and hee sufficiently possest his friends with the whole scope of his intent, as, gentle Reader, the sequell will shew. Instantly they tooke a paire of Oares, whose armes were to make a false gallop no further than Brainford, where their faire was paid to them so liberally, that each of them the next tide to London, purchased two new wastcoates, yet should these good benefactors come to their usuall places of trade, and if they spie a better fare than their owne, that happily the Gentleman hath more minde to goe withall, they will not onely fall out with him that is of their owne sweet transporters, as they are, but abuse the fare they carrie with foule speeches, as, a Pox, or the Devill go with you: as their Godfather _Caron_ the Ferry-man of Hell hath taught them. I speake not this of all, but of some that are brought up in the East, some in the West, some in the North, but most part in the South: but for the rest they are honest compleat men, leaving them to come to my honest _George_; who is now merry at the three Pigeons[F. 165] in Braineford, with Sacke and Sugar, not any wine wanting, the Musicians playing, my host drinking, my hostis dauncing with the worshipfull Justice, for so then he was tearmed, and his Mansion house in Kent, who came thither of purpose to be merry with his men; because he could not so conveniently neere home, by reason of a shrewish wife he had: my gentle hostis gave him all the entertainment the house could afford, for M. _Peele_ had paid royally; for all his five pounds was come to ten groats. Now _George Peele's_ wit labors to bring in that five pounds there was spent, which was soone begotten. Being sot at dinner, My host, quoth _George_, how fals the Tyde out for London; not till the evening, quoth mine Hoste, have you any businesse, Sir? Yes, marry, quoth _George_, I intend not to goe home this two dayes: Therefore, my Hoste, saddle my man a horse for London, if you be so well furnished, for I must send him for one bag more, quoth _George_, ten pounds hath seen no Sunne this six moneths. I am ill furnished if I cannot furnish you with that, quoth my Hoste, and presently sadled him a good Nag, and away rides one of _George's_ men to London, attending the good house of his Master _Peele_ in London; In the meane time _George_ bespeakes great cheare to Supper, saying he expected some of his friends from London. Now you must imagine there was not a peny owing in the house, for he had paid as liberall as _Cæsar_, as far as _Cæsar's_ wealth went. For indeed most of the money was one Cæsar's an honest man yet living in London: but to the Catastrophe. All the day before, had one of the other men of _George Peele_ been a great soliciter to my Hostis, she would beg leave of his Master he might go see a Maid, a sweet heart of his, so farre as Kingstone, and before his Master went to bed, he would returne againe; saying he was sure shee might command it at his Masters hands. My kinde Hostis willing to pleasure the yong fellow, knowing in her time what belonged to such matters, went to Master _Peele_, and moved him in it: which he angerly refused. But she was so earnest in it, that shee swore hee should not deny her, protesting he went but to see an uncle of his some five miles off. Marry, I thanke you, quoth _George_, my good Hostis, would you so discredit me, or hath the knave no more wit, than at this time to goe, knowing I have no horse here, and would he, base cullian, go afoot? Nay, good Sir, quoth mine Hostis, be not angry, it is not his intent to goe afoot; for hee shall have my Mare, and I will assure you, Sir, upon my word, he shall be here againe, to have you to bed. Wel, quoth _George_, Hostis Ile take you at your word, let him goe, his negligence shall light upon you. So be it, quoth mine Hostis: so down goeth she, and sends away civill _Thomas_, for so she cal'd him, to his sweet heart backt upon her Mare: which _Thomas_ instead of riding to Kingstone, tooke London in his way, where, meeting with my other horseman, attended the arrivall of _George Peele_, which was not long after. They are at London, _George_ in his Chamber at Brainford, accompanied with none but one _Anthony Nit_, a Barber, who Din'd and Sup't with him continually, of whom he had borowed a Lute to passe away the melancholy afternoone, of which he could play as well as _Banke's_[F. 166] his horse. The Barber very modestly takes his leave; _George_ obsequiously bids him to supper, who (God willing) would not faile. _George_ being left alone with his two supposed men, gave them the meane how to escape, and, walking in the Court, _George_ found fault with the weather, saying it was rawish, and cold: which words mine Hostis hearing, my kinde Hostis fetched her Husbands holiday Gowne; which _George_ thankfully put about him, and withall called for a cup of Sacke, after which he would walke into the Meddowes, and practise upon his Lute. 'Tis good for your worship to do so, quoth mine Hostis: which walk _George_ took directly to Sion,[F. 167] where, having the advantage of a paire of Oares at hand, made this Journey to London, his two Associates behind, had the plot in their heads by _Georges_ instruction for their escape: for they knew he was gone; my Hostis, she was in the Market buying of provision for Supper: mine Hoste he was at Tables,[F. 168] and my two masterlesse men desired the maids to excuse them if their Master came, for, quoth they, we will goe drinke two pots with my Smug Smithes wife at old Brainford. I warrant you, quoth the Maides. So away went my men to the Smith's at old Brainford; from thence to London, where they all met, and sold the Horse and the Mare, the Gowne and the Lute, which money was as badly spent, as it was lewdly got. How my Hoste and my Hostis lookt when they saw the event of this; goe but to the three Pigeons at Brainford, you shall know.

[Footnote 164: Now termed coal merchants.]

[Footnote 165: This sign, which exists at Brentford now, was that of a famous house at that time. It is noticed in the old comedy of "The Roaring Girl, or the Catchpole," thus--

"Thou art admirably suited for the Three Pigeons At Brentford; I swear I know thee not."

And Ben Jonson in his "Alchemist" makes _Subtle_ say to _Doll Common_, "We will turn our course to Brainford, westward, if thou saist the word.... My fine flitter-mouse[F. 165a] my bird o' the night, wee'll tickle it at the _pigeons_." It has been suggested, with some show of probability, that this sign took its origin from the three doves which Noah sent out from the ark.]

[Footnote 165a: A bat.]

[Footnote 166: See footnote, p. 125. (Footnote 77)]

[Footnote 167: Sion House, now the seat of the Duke of Northumberland, is opposite the western end of Kew Gardens.]

[Footnote 168: Backgammon, or any other games played on the same board.]

[94.] Two being in a Tavern, the one swore the other should pledge him: why then, quoth the other, I will; who went presently down the stairs, and left him as a pledge for the Reckoning.

[91.] First my mother brought me forth, when shortly after, I, the Daughter, bring forth my mother againe.

_Resolution._ Of water is first made ice, which afterwards melts, and brings forth water againe, and so the daughter brings forth the mother, as the mother first the daughter.

Times Alteration

or

The Old Mans rehearsall, what brave dayes he knew A great while agone, when his old Cap was new.

To the Tune of _Ile nere be drunke againe_.

When this Old Cap was new, [94*.] tis since two hundred yeere, No malice then we knew, but all things plentie were: All friendship now decayes, (beleeve me this is true) Which was not in those dayes, _when this old Cap was new_.

The Nobles of our Land were much delighted then, To have at their command a Crue of lustie Men: Which by their Coates were knowne of Tawnie, Red or Blue, With Crests on their sleeves showne _when this old Cap was new_.

Now Pride hath banisht all, unto our Lands reproach, Then he whose meanes is small, maintaines both Horse and Coach. Instead of an hundred Men, the Coach allows but two; This was not thought of then, _when this old Cap was new_.

Good Hospitalitie was cherisht then of many, Now poore men starve and die, and are not helpt by any For Charitie waxeth cold, and Love is found in few; This was not in time of old, _when this old Cap was new_.

Where ever you travel'd then, you might meet on the way Brave Knights and Gentlemen, clad in their Country Gray; That courteous would appear, and kindly welcome you, No Puritans then were, _when this old Cap was new_.

Our Ladies in those dayes in civill Habit went, Broad-cloth was then worth prayse, and gave the best content; French Fashions then were scorn'd, fond Fangles then none knew, Then Modestie Women adorn'd, _when this old Cap was new_.

A Man might then behold, at Christmas, in each Hall, Good Fires, to curbe the Cold, and Meat for great and small. The Neighbours were friendly bidden, and all had welcome true, The poor from the Gates were not chidden, _when this old Cap was new_.

Black Jackes to every man were fill'd with Wine and Beere, No Pewter Pot nor Kanne in those dayes did appeare: Good cheare in a Noble-mans house was counted a seemly shew, We wanted no Brawne nor Sowse _when this old Cap was new_.

We tooke not such delight in Cups of Silver fine, None under the degree of a Knight, in Plate drunk Beere or Wine. Now each Mechanicall man, hath a Cup-board of Plate for a shew, Which was a rare thing then, _when this old Cap was new_.

Then Briberie was unborne, no Simonie men did use, Christians did Usurie scorne, devis'd among the Jewes. Then Lawyers to be Feed, at that time hardly knew, For man with man agreed, _when this old Cap was new_.

No Captaine then carowst nor spent poore Souldiers Pay, They were not so abus'd as they are at this day. Of seven dayes they make eight, to keepe from them their due, Poore Souldiers had their right _when this old Cap was new_.

Which made them forward still to goe, although not prest, And going with good will, their fortunes were the best. Our English then in fight did forraine Foes subdue, And forst them all to flight, _when this old Cap was new_.

God save our gracious King, and send him long to live, Lord, mischiefe on them bring, that will not their almes give. But seeke to rob the Poore, of that which is their due; This was not in time of yore, _when this old Cap was new_. M. P.[F. 169]

FINIS.

Printed for the Assignes of Thomas Symcocke.

[Footnote 169: ? Martin Parker.]

[77.] In the Country _Tarlton_ told his Hostesse he was a Conjurer. O, Sir (sayes she) I had pewter stolne off my shelf the other day, help me to it, and I will forgive you all the pots of Ale you owe mee, which is sixteene dozen. Sayes _Tarlton_, To morrow morning the Divell shall help you to it, or I will trounce him. Morning came, and the Hostesse and he met in a roome by themselves. _Tarlton_, to passe the time with exercise of his wit with circles and tricks, fals to coniure, having no more skill than a dogge. But see the iest, how contrarily it fell out: as he was calling out, _mons_, _pons_, _simul_ & _fons_, and such like, a Cat (unexpected) leapt from the gutter window, which sight so amazed _Tarlton_, that he skipt thence, & threw his Hostesse downe, so that he departed with his fellowes, and left her hip out of joynt, being then in the Surgeons hands, & not daring to tell how it came.

[4.] One ask'd a Fellow if he would go into the Water with him: No, says he, I'll never go into the Water till I have learnt to Swim.

[26.] A Woman accidentally coming into the room where they were, and hearing them speak of that Frost[F. 170] in _Germany_, told some such stories; but when she saw the Company began to scruple at the truth of it (which I wonder they did, if they consider but her following discourse) then she up and told them That her dear and loving Husband, peace be with him, was in that great Frost, out late one night, which, truly, Gentlemen, I believe was the occasion of his death; though he lingred Fourteen or Fifteen years after it; he, I say, riding that night, came to a Common, where were great store of very good Cole-pits, insomuch that he fell down to the bottom in one of them, and his Horse fell directly upon him; that it was impossible at that time of night, and in such weather, to be relieved in that great distress; and, having lain so for a long time, and no hopes to be relieved at all, he presently bethought himself, and immediately rose, and went to the next Village, and there borrowed a Pickaxe and a Spade, and then came back with 'em to the Pit, and first digged out himself, and then his Horse, and so about Five a Clock in the Morning came home; but so weary and so cold, that he could not unbutton his Doublet: Nay, says she, after I had hope (_sic_) him off with all his Cloaths: he was so benumb'd, that I was forc'd to take a Warming Pan of hot Coles, and so went all over his body, yet was he so cold, that he scarcely felt, though the Warming Pan sometimes stood a pretty while together in one place; which truly, Gentlemen, I was fain to do for my Dear Husband: which confirmed them in the belief of it, that it was as true as any of the rest, and gave her thanks for it also, and so she made them half a dozen reverend Courchys and bid 'em good by.

[Footnote 170: See ante, p. 259. (Footnote 160)]

_On a Cobler._

Death at a Coblers doore oft made a stand, [5.] And alwaies found him on the mending hand; At last came death in very foule weather, And ript the soale from the upper leather: Death put a trick upon him, and what was't? The Cobler call'd for's awle, death brought his Laste.

[82.] There was a Scottish Gentleman that had sore eyes, who was counselled by his Physitians to forbeare drinking of wine: but hee said hee neither could nor would forbeare it, maintaining it for the lesser evill, to shut up the windowes of his body, than to suffer the house to fall downe, through want of repair.

[52.] In Gloucestershire dwelt one that cured frantick men in this manner; when the fit was on them he would put them in a gutter of water, some to the knees, some to the middle, and some to the neck, as the disease was on them. So one that was well amended, standing at the gate, by chance a Gentleman came riding by with his Hawks and his Hounds. The mad fellow called him, and said, Gentleman, whether go you? On hunting (quoth the Gentleman.) What do you with all those Kites and Dogs? They be Hawks and Hounds, quoth the Gentleman. Wherefore keep you them? (quoth the other). Why, (quoth he) for my pleasure. What do they cost you a yeare to keepe them? Forty pounds (quoth the Gentleman) And what do they profit you? (quoth he) Some ten pounds (quoth the Gentleman) Get thee quickly hence, quoth the fellow, for if my Master finde thee here, he will put thee into the gutter up to the throat.

The next illustration is a scathing satire on the treatment of the army in Ireland. Perhaps the tersest notice of the history of this time is in _The Chronological Historian_, by W. Toone. "16 Feb. 1646. The Parliament sent a Committee to form the Army for Ireland.--The Commissioners found the Army not inclined to obey them."

The humble Petition of us the Parliaments poore Souldiers in the Army of Ireland, whereof many are starved already, and many dead for want of Chirurgions.