Part 4

The Tanner's Trade I practice, Sometimes amongst the rest Sir; Yet I could never get a Hair, Of any Hide I dress'd Sir; For I have been tanning of a Hide, This long seven Years and more Sir; And yet it is as hairy still, As ever it was before Sir.

Sometimes I am a Taylor, And work with Thread that's strong Sir; I have a fine great Needle, About two handfulls long Sir: The finest Sempster in this Town, That works by line or leisure; May use my Needle at a pinch, And do themselves great Pleasure.

_The slow Men of_ LONDON: _Or, the Widow_ BROWN. _To the same Tune._

There dwelt a Widow in this Town, That was both Fair and Lovely; Her Face was comely neat and brown, To Pleasure she would move thee: Her lovely Tresses shin'd like Gold, Most neat is her Behaviour; For truth it has of late been told, There's many strove to have her. There were three Young Men of this Town; Slow Men of _London_; And they'd go Wooe the Widow _Brown_, Because they would be undone.

The one a Taylor was by Trade, An excellent Occupation; But Widows Love doth waste and fade, I find by observation: The second was a Farrier bold, A Man of excellent Metal; His Love to her was never cold, So firm his Thoughts did settle, There were, _&c._

The third a Weaver was that came, a Suitor to this Widow; Her Beauty did his Heart inflame, Her Thoughts deceit doth shadow, Widows can dissemble still, When Young Men come a Wooing; Yet they were guided by her Will, That prov'd to their undoing. There were three, _&c._

This Widow had a dainty Tongue, And Words as sweet as Honey; Which made her Suitors to her throng, Till they had spent their Money: The Taylor spent an Hundred Pound, That he took up on Credit; But now her Knavery he hath found, Repents that are he did it. These were three, _&c._

Threescore Pounds the Farrier had, Left him by his Father; To spend this Money he was mad, His Dad so long did gather: This Widow often did protest, She lov'd him best of any; Thus would she swear, when she did least, To make them spend their Money. These were three, _&c._

The Weaver spent his daily gains, That he got by his Labour; Some thirty Pounds he spent in vain, He borrow'd of his Neighbour: She must have Sack and Muscadine, And Claret brew'd with Sugar: Each Day they feed her chops with Wine, For which they all might hug her. These were three, _&c._

_The Second Part, To the same Tune._

She went Apparell'd neat and fine, People well might wonder; To see how she in Gold did shine, Her fame abroad did thunder: A water'd Camlet Gown she had, A Scarlet Coat belaced With Gold, which made her Suitors glad, To see how she was graced. These were, _&c._

The Taylor was the neatest Lad, His Cloaths were oft Perfum'd; Kind Entertainment still he had, Till he his 'state consum'd: The Farrier likewise spent his 'state, The Weaver often kiss'd her: But when that they in 'state were Poor, They sought but still they miss'd her. These were, _&c._

The Farrier and the Weaver too, Were fain to fly the City: The Widow did them quite undoe, In faith more was the pity: She of her Suitors being rid, A Welchman came unto her: By Night and Day his suit he ply'd, Most roughly he did Woo her; For wooing tricks he quite put down, The Slow-men of _London_; He over-reach'd the Widow _Brown_, That had so many undone.

He swore he was a Gentleman, Well landed in the Country: And liv'd in Reputation there, His Name Sir _Rowland Humphry_. The Widow did believe him then, And Love unto him granted; Thus he her Favour did obtain, Welchmen will not be daunted. By cunning tricks he quite put down, The Slow-men of _London_: That came to Woo this Widow _Brown_, Because they would be undone.

The Welchman ply'd her Night and Day, Till to his Bow he brought her; And bore away the Widow quite, From all that ever sought her: She thought to be a Lady gay, But she was sore deceiv'd: Thus the Welchman did put down, The Slow-men of _London_: For they would Wooe the Widow _Brown_, Because they would be undone.

Thus she was fitted in her kind, For all her former Knavery; The Welchman did deceive her Mind, And took down all her Bravery: It had been better she had ta'en, The Weaver, Smith, or Taylor; For when she sought for State and Pomp, The Welchman quite did fail her: Then learn you Young Men of this Town, You Slow-men of _London_: Which way to take the Widow _Brown_, For least you all be undone.

_The ROYAL Example. By Mr._ Henry Purcell.

[Music]

May her blest Example chace Vice, in Troops out of the Land; Flying from her awful Face, Like trembling Ghost when Day's at Hand: May her Hero bring us Peace, Won with Honour in the Field: And our Home-bred Factions cease, He still our Sword, and she our Shield.

_The ROYAL Triumph of_ BRITAIN'S _Monarch_.

[Music]

New Pyramid's raise, Bring the Poplar and Bayes, To Crown our Triumphant Commander; The _French_ too shall run, As the _Irish_ have done, Like the _Persians_, the _Persians_; Like the _Persians_, the _Persians_, Like the _Persians_ before _Alexander_.

Had the _Rubicon_ been, Such a Stream as the _Boyn_, Not _CÊsar_, not _CÊser_ himself had gone on: King _William_ exceeds, great _CÊsar_ in Deeds, More than he did, more than he did, More than he did, great _Pompey_ before.

Tho' born in a State, Fore-told was his Fate, That he should be a Monarch ador'd: One Globe was too small, To contain such a Soul, New Worlds must submit to his Sword.

So Great and Benign, Is our Sov'reign Queen, Made to share his Empire and Bed; May she still fill his Arms, With her lovely soft Charms, And a Race of King _William's_ succeed.

_The Jolly_ BROOM-MAN: _Or, the unhappy BOY turn'd Thrifty._

[Music]

There was an Old Man, and he liv'd in a Wood, and his Trade it was making of Broom, And he had a naughty Boy, _Jack_ to his Son, and he lay in Bed till 'twas Noon, 'twas Noon, and he lay in Bed till 'twas Noon.

No Father e'er had, so lazy a Lad, with sleep he his Time did consume, In Bed where he lay, still every Day, and would not go cut his green Broom, green Broom, and would not go cut his green Broom.

The Father was vext, and sorely perplext, with Passion he entered the Room; Come Sirrah, he cry'd, I'll liquor your Hide, if you will not go gather green Broom, green Broom, if you will not go gather green Broom.

_Jack_ lay in his Nest, still taking his rest, and valu'd not what was his Doom, But now you shall hear, his Mother drew near, and made him go gather green Broom, green Broom, and made him go gather green Broom.

_Jack's_ Mother got up, and fell in a Rage, and swore she would fire the Room, If _Jack_ did not rise, and go to the Wood, and fetch home a bundle of Broom, green Broom, and fetch home a bundle of Broom.

This wakened him straight, before it was late, as fearing the terrible Doom, Dear Mother, quoth he, have pity on me, I'll fetch home a Bundle of Broom, green Broom, I'll fetch home a bundle of Broom.

Then _Jack_ he arose, and he slipt on his Cloaths, and away to the Wood very soon; To please the Old Wife, he took a sharp Knife, and fell to the cutting of Broom, green Broom, and fell to the cutting of Broom.

_Jack_ follow'd his Trade and readily made, his Goods up for Country Grooms: This done, honest _Jack_ took them at his Back, and cry'd, will you buy any Brooms, green Brooms, and cry'd, will you buy any Brooms.

Then _Jack_ he came by a Gentleman's House, in which was abundance of Rooms; He stood at the Door, and began for to roar, crying, Maids will you buy any Brooms, green Brooms, crying, Maids will you buy any Brooms.

I tell you they're good, just fetch'd from the Wood, and fitted for sweeping of Rooms; Come handle my Ware, for Girls I declare, you never had better green Brooms, green Brooms, you never had better green Brooms.

The Maiden did call, the Steward of the Hall, who came in his Silks and Perfumes, He gave _Jack_ his Price, and thus in a trice, he sold all his Bundle of Brooms, green Brooms, he sold all his Bundle of Brooms.

Likewise to conclude, they gave him rich Food, with Liquor of Spicy Perfumes; The hot Boyl'd and Roast, did cause _Jack_ to boast, no Trade was like making of Brooms, green Brooms, no Trade was like making of Brooms.

For first I am Paid, and then I am made, right Welcome by Stewards and Grooms, Here's Money, Meat and Drink, what Trade do you think compares with the making of Brooms, green Brooms, compares with the making of Brooms.

I have a good Trade, more Goods must be made, to furnish young Lasses and Grooms, Wherefore I shall lack a Prentice, quoth _Jack_, I'll teach him the making of Brooms, green Brooms, I'll teach him the making of Brooms.

_A_ SONG, _the Words and Tune by Mr._ Witt Green.

[Music]

Never sigh, but think of kissing, More, and more, and more of Wishing; To possess the mighty Blessing, While they enjoy it they are true, They'll hug, they'll cling, and heave up too, But Liberty when once regain'd, The Favour's to another feign'd.

Why should we then the Sex admire, For 'twas never their desire, To maintain a constant Fire; If oagling, wheedling you'll believe, They'll hourly study to deceive, But we will find out better ways, In Musick, Singing, spend our Days.

_The LOYAL Delights of a Contented Mind. The Words by Mr._ Mumford, _Set by Mr._ H. Purcell.

[Music]

Oh how Happy's he, who from Business free, Can Enjoy his Mistress, Bottle, and his Friend: Not confin'd to State, nor the Pride of the Great; Only on himself, not others doth depend: Change can never vex him, Faction ne'er perplex him; If the World goes well, a Bumper crowns his Joys, If it be not so than he takes of two; Till succeeding Glasses, Thinking doth destroy.

When his Noddle reels, he to _CÊlia_ steals; And by Pleasures unconfin'd runs o'er the Night; In the Morning wakes, a pleasing Farewel takes, Ready for fresh Tipling, and for new Delight: When his Table's full, oh, then he hugs his Soul; And drinking all their Healths, a Welcome doth express: When the Cloth's removed, then by all approv'd, Comes the full grace Cup, Queen _Anna's_ good success.

_A_ RIDDLE.

[Music]

There is a Thing which in the light Is seldom us'd, but in the Night, It serves the Maiden Female crew, The Ladies, and the good Wives too: They us'd to take it in their Hand, And then it will uprightly stand; And to a Hole they it apply, Where by it's good will it could Dye: It wasts, goes out, and still within, It leaves it's Moisture thick and thin.

_On a_ LADY _Drinking the Waters, The Words by Sir_ GEORGE ETHERIGE. _Set by Mr._ JAMES HART.

[Music]

_Phillis_ lay aside your Thinking, Youth and Beauty shou'd be Gay, Laugh and talk, and mind your Drinking: Whilst we pass the Time away, Laugh and talk, and mind your Drinking, Whilst we pass the Time away.

They ought only to be pensive, Who dare not their Grief declare, Lest their story be offensive, But still languish in Despair, Lest their, _&c._

Yet what more torments your Lovers, They are Jealous, they obey, One whose Restless Minds discovers, She's no less a Slave than they, One whose, _&c._

_The Lascivious Lover and the coy Lass._

[Music]

Pish fye, you're rude Sir, I never saw such idle fooling; You're grown so lewd Sir, So debauch'd I hate your ways; Leave, what are you doing? I see you seek my ruin, I'll cry out, pray make no delay, But take your Hand away; Ah! good Sir, pray Sir, don't you do so, Never was I thus abus'd so, By any Man, but you alone, Therefore Sir, pray begone.

_Advice to a Miser. Set by Mr._ James Graves.

[Music]

Retire old Miser, and learn to be wiser, In looking o'er Books ne'er spend all thy Time; But rather be thinking, of roaring and drinking, For by those to Promotion thou'lt speedily climb.

Then prithee be Jolly, desert this thy Folly, Make welcome thy Friends, and ne'er repine; For when thou art hurl'd into the next World, Thy Heir I'll engage it in Splendor will shine.

When thy Breath is just vanish'd, his care will be banisht, And scarce will he follow thy Corps to the Grave; Then be cautious and wary, for nought but Canary, He's a Fool that for others himself do's enslave.

_A_ SONG _in the Play call'd_, Rule a Wife and have Wife. _Set by Mr._ HENRY PURCELL. _Sung by Mrs._ HUDSON.

There's not a Swain on the Plain, Wou'd be blest like me, Oh! cou'd you but, cou'd you but, cou'd you but, on me smile; But you appear so severe, That trembling with fear, My heart goes pit a pat, pit a pat, pit a pat, all the while.

If I cry must I die, you make no reply, But look shy, and with a scornful Eye, Kill me by your cruelty; Oh! can you be, can you be, can you be, can you be, can you be, can you be, can you be, can you, can you, can you be too hard to me.

_A_ SONG _in the Play call'd the_ LANCASHIRE WITCHES. _Sung by Mrs._ HUDSON, _and Set by Mr._ JOHN ECCLES.

[Music]

Tormenting Beauty leave my Breast, In spight of _Cloe_ I'll have rest; In vain is all her Syren Art, Still longer to hold my troubled Heart: For I'm resolv'd to break the Chain, And o'er her Charms the Conquest gain, And o'er her Charms the Conquest gain.

Insulting Beauty I have born, Too long your Female Pride and scorn; Too long have been your Publick Jest, Your common Theme at ev'ry Feast: Let others thee, vain Fair, pursue, Whilst I for ever bid adieu, Whilst I for ever bid adieu.

_A_ SONG _in the Comedy call'd_, The Wives Excuse: _Or_, Cuckolds make themselves. _Sung by Mr._ Mountford. _Set by Mr._ HENRY PURCELL.

Say cruel _Amoret_, how long, how long, In Billet-doux, and humble Song; Shall poor _Alexis_, shall poor _Alexis_, poor _Alexis_ wooe? If neither Writing, Sighing, Sighing, Dying, Reduce you to a soft complying, Oh, oh, oh, oh, when will you come too.

Full Thirteen Moons are now past o'er, Since first those Stars I did adore, That set my Heart on fire: The conscious Play-house, Parks and Court, Have seen my sufferings made your sport, Yet I am ne'er the nigher.

A faithful Lover shou'd deserve, A better Face, than thus to starve: In sight of such a Feast; But oh! if you'll not think it fit, Your hungry Slave shou'd taste on bit; Gives some kind looks at least.

_The Double Lover's Request._

[Music]

Such command o'er my Fate has your Love or your hate, That nothing can make me more wretched or great: Whilst expiring I lie, to live or to die, Thus doubtful the Sentence of such I rely: Your Tongue bids me go, tho' your Eyes say not so, But much kinder Words from their Language do flow.

Then leave me not here, thus between Hope and Fear, Tho' your Love cannot come, let your pity appear; But this my request, you must grant me at least, And more I'll not ask, but to you leave the rest; If my fate I must meet, let it be at your Feet, Death there with more joy, than else-where I wou'd greet.

_A_ SONG, _Set by Mr._ ROB. KING.

[Music]

Tell me why so long you try me, Still I follow, still you fly me; Will the race be never done, Will it be ever but begun: Could I quit my Love for you, I'd ne'er love more what e'er I do; When I speak truth, you think I lie, You think me false, but say not why.

_A_ SONG, _Set by Mr._ BARINCLOE.

Tis a foolish mistake, That Riches can speak, Or e'er for good Rhetoric pass: To a Fool I confess, Your Gold may address, Or else where the Master's an Ass: To a Woman of Sense, 'Tis a sordid pretence, That a Golden Effigies can move her; No Face on the Coin, Is half so Divine, As that of a faithful young Lover.

But Men when they Love, Their Passion to prove, From the Court to the dull Country Novice; To the Fair they're so kind, First to fathom their Mind, Next search the Prerogative Office: No _imprimis_ I give, Then the Fair one they give, Notwithstanding their strong Protestations; Till the Lady discover, No Fortune, no Lover, Then draws off her fond Inclination,

_The valiant_ SOLDIER'S, _and_ SAILOR'S _Loyal Subjects Health, to the_ QUEEN, PRINCE _and Noble_ COMMANDERS.

[Music]

Now, now the Queen's Health, And let the Haut-boys play; Whilst the Troops on their March shall huzza, huzza, huzza, Now now the Queen's Health, And let the Haut-boys play, Whilst the Drums and the Trumpets, Sound from the Shore, huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now now the Prince's Health, And let the Haut-boys play, Whilst the Troops on their March, shall huzza, huzza, huzza: Now now the Prince's Health, And let the Haut-boys play; Whilst the Drums and the Trumpets Sound from the Shore huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now the brave _Eugene's_ Health, Who shews the _French_ brave play; And does March over Rocks, let's huzza, huzza, huzza, Now the brave _Eugene's_ Health, And let the Haut-boys play; Whilst the Drums and the Trumpets Sounds as they March, huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now now the Duke's Health, Brave _Marlborough_ I say, Whilst the Cannon do roar, let's huzza, huzza, huzza, Now now the Duke's Health, And let the Haut-boys play; Whilst the Drums and the Trumpets Sound from the Shore, huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now brave _Ormond's_ Health Boys, Whilst Colours do display: And the _Britains_ in Fight, shall huzza, huzza, huzza; Now brave _Ormond's_ Health Boys, Whilst Colours do display: And the Drums and the Trumpets Sound from the Shore huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now Sir _Cloudsly's_ Health Boys And Trumpets sound each Day, Whilst the Tars with their Caps shall huzza, huzza, huzza. Now Sir _Cloudsly's_ Health Boys, And Trumpets sound each Day, Whilst the Thundring Cannon Loudly do roar huzza, huzza, huzza.

Brave _Peterborough's_ Health Boys, Who boldly makes his way, While the _French_ run let's huzza, huzza, huzza; Brave _Peterborough's_ Health Boys, And let the Haut-boys play, While the Drums and the Trumpets Sound as they March huzza, huzza, huzza.

Now now brave _Leak's_ Health, Who is sailed away, For to find the _French_ Fleet let's huzzza, huzza, huzza, Now now brave _Leak's_ Health, Who'll shew the _French_ fair play, While the Drums and the Trumpets, Sound from on Board, huzza, huzza, huzza.

_The_ BEAU'S _Ballad. Occasioned by the sight of a White Marble_ SIDE-TABLE.

[Music]

A Pox on the Fool, Who could be so dull, To contrive such a Table for Glasses: Which at the first sight, The Guests must affright, More by half than their Liquor rejoyces.

'Tis so like a Tomb, That whoever does come Can't look on't without thus reflecting; Heaven knows how soon, We must lye under one, And such Thoughts must needs be perplexing.

Then away with that Stone. Break it, throw it down, To some Church or other, else fling't in: 'Tis fitter by far, To have a place there, Than stand here to spoil Mirth and good Drinking.

There Death let it show, To those who will go, And Monuments there gaze and stare at; We come here to live, And sad Thoughts away drive, With good store of immortal Claret.

Tho' the Glasses stand there, They shan't do so here, 'Tis the only kind Lesson that teaches; Whilst it seems to say, Life's short, Drink away, No time o'er your Liquor to Preach is.

Then fill up the Glass, About let it pass, Tho' the Marble of death doth remind us; The Wine shall ne'er die, Tho' you must and I, We'll not leave a drop of't behind us.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

Underneath the Castle Wall, the Queen of Love sat mourning, Tearing of her golden Locks, her red Rose, Cheeks adorning; With her Lilly white Hand she smote her Breasts, And said she was forsaken, With that the Mountains they did skip, And the Hills fell all a quaking.

Underneath the rotten Hedge, the Tinkers Wife sat shiting, Tearing of a Cabbage Leaf, her shitten A-- A wiping; With her cole black Hands she scratch'd her A-- And swore she was beshitten, With that the Pedlars all did skip, And the Fidlers fell a spitting.

_The unfortunate Lover. Set by Mr._ WILLIS.

[Music]

What shall I do, I am undone, Where shall I fly my self to shun; Ah! me my self, my self must kill, And yet I die against my Will.

In starry Letters I behold, My death is in the Heavens inroll'd, There find I writ in Skies above, That I, poor I, must die for Love.

'Twas not my Love deserv'd to die, Oh no, it was unworthy I; I for her Love should not have dy'd, But that I had no worth beside.

Ah me! that Love such Woe procures, For without her no Life endures; I for her Virtues did her serve, Doth such a Love a Death deserve.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

My Dear and only Love take heed, How thou thy self expose; And let not longing Lovers feed, Upon such looks as those I'll Marble Wall thee round about, And Build without a Door; But if my Love doth once break out, I'll never Love thee more.

If thou hast love that thou refine, And tho' thou seest me not; Yet paralell'd that Heart of thine Shall never be forgot: But if Unconstancy admit, A Stranger to bear sway; My Treasure that proves counterfeit, And he may gain the Day.

I'll lock my self within a Cell, And wander under Ground; For there is no such Faith in her, As there is to be found: I'll curse the Day that e'er thy Face, My Soul did so betray; And so for ever, evermore, I'll sing Oh well-a-day!

Like _Alexander_ I will prove, For I will reign alone; I'll have no Partners in my Love, Nor Rivals in my Throne: I'll do by thee as _Nero_ did, When _Rome_ was set on fire; Not only all relief forbid, But to the Hills retire.

I'll fold my Arms like Ensigns up, Thy falshood to deplore; And after such a bitter Cup, I'll never love thee more.

Yet for the Love I bore thee once, And lest that Love should die; A Marble Tomb of Stone I'll write, The Truth to testifie: That all the Pilgrims passing by, May see and so implore; And stay and read the reason why, I'll never love thee more.

_The Second Part of the Trader's Medly: Or, The Cries of_ LONDON.

[Music]

Come buy my Greens and Flowers fine, Your Houses to adorn; I'll grind your Knives, to please your Wives, And bravely cut your Corns: Ripe Straw-berries here I have to sell, With Taffity-Tarts and Pies; I've Brooms to sell will please you well, If you'll believe your Eyes.

Here's Salop brought from Foreign parts, With dainty Pudding-Pyes; And Shrewsbury-Cakes, with Wardens bak'd, I scorn to tell you Lies: With Laces long and Ribbons broad, The best that e'er you see; If you do lack an Almanack, Come buy it now of me.

The Tinker's come to stop your holes, And Sauder all your Cracks; What e'er you think here's dainty Ink, And choice of Sealing-Wax: Come Maids bring out your Kitchin-stuff, Old Rags, or Women's Hair; I'll sell you Pins for Coney-skins, Come buy my Earthen-ware.