Part 9

A Pedlar proud as I heard tell, He came into a Town: With certain Wares he had to sell, Which he cry'd up and down: At first of all he did begin, With Ribbonds, or Laces, Points, or Pins, Gartering, Girdling, Tape, or Filleting, _Maids any Cunny-skins_.

I have of your fine perfumed Gloves, And made of the best Doe-skin; Such as young Men do give their Loves, When they their Favour Win: Besides he had many a prettier Thing _Than Ribbonds_, &c.

I have of your fine Necklaces, As ever you did behold; And of your Silk Handkerchiefs, That are lac'd round with Gold: Besides he had many a prettier Thing _Than Ribbonds_, &c.

Good fellow, says one, and smiling sat, Your Measure does somewhat Pinch; Beside you Measure at that rate, It wants above an Inch: And then he shew'd her a prettier Thing, _Than Ribbonds_, &c.

The Lady was pleas'd with what she had seen, And vow'd and did protest; Unless he'd shew it her once again, She never shou'd be at rest: With that he shew'd her his prettier Thing _Than Ribbonds_, &c.

With that the Pedlar began to huff, And said his Measure was good, If that she pleased to try his stuff, And take it whilst it stood: And than he gave her a prettier Thing, _Than Ribbonds_, &c.

Good fellow said she, when you come again, Pray bring good store of your Ware; And for new Customers do not sing, For I'll take all and to spare: With that she hugg'd his prettier Thing _Than Ribbonds, or Laces, Points, or Pins, Gartering, Girdling, Tape, or Filleting, Maids any Cunny-skins_.

_A_ SONG, _by Mr._ ESCOURT, _To a Tune of Mr._ WELDON'S.

[Music]

The Ordinance a-board, Such Joys does afford, As no mortal, no mortal, no mortal, no mortal, no mortal e'er more can desire; Each Member repairs, From the _Tower_ to the stairs, And by water, by water, by water, they all go to fire.

Of each Piece that's a-shore, They search from the bore, And to proving, to proving, to proving, to proving, to proving, they go in fair Weather; Their Glasses are large, And whene'er they discharge, There's a boo huzza, a boo huzza, a boo huzza, Guns and Bumpers go off together.

Old _Vulcan_ for _Mars_, Fitted Tools for his Wars, To enable him, enable him, enable him, enable him, enable him to conquer the faster; But had _Mars_ ever been Upon our _Wolwich_ Green, To have heard boo, huzza, boo, huzza, boo, huzza, he'd have own'd Great _Marlborough_ his Master.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

A Young Man and a Maid, _put in all, put in all_, Together lately play'd, _put in all_; The Young Man was in Jest, O the Maid she did protest: She bid him do his best, _put in all, put in all_.

With that her rowling Eyes, _put_, &c. Turn'd upward to the Skies, _put_, &c. My Skin is White you see, My Smock above my Knee, What wou'd you more of me, _put_, &c.

I hope my Neck and Breast, _put_, &c. Lie open to your chest, _put in all_, The Young Man was in heat, The Maid did soundly Sweat, A little farther get, _put_, &c.

According to her Will, _put_, &c. This Young Man try'd his Skill, _put in all_; But the Proverb plain does tell, That use them ne'er so well, For an Inch they'd take an Ell, _put_, &c.

When they had ended sport, _put_, &c. She found him all too short, _put in all_; For when he'd done his best, The Maid she did protest, 'Twas nothing but a Jest, _put in all, put in all_.

_A_ SONG. _The Words by_ JO. HAINS, _Set by Mr._ CHURCH.

[Music]

I Courted and Writ, Shew'd my Love and my Wit, And still pretty _Flavia_ deny'd; 'Twas her Virtue I thought, Made me prove such a Sot, To adore her the more for her Pride: 'Till I happen'd to sit, By her Mask'd in a Pit, Whilst a crowd of gay Beaus held her play; When so wantonly free, Was her smart Repartee, I was cur'd and went blushing, went blushing away.

How Lovers Mistake, The Addresses they make, When they swear to be Constant and true; For all the Nymphs hold, Tho' the Sport be still old, That their Play-mates must ever be new: Each pretty new Toy, How they'll long to enjoy, And then for a newer will Pine; But when they perceive, Others like what they leave, Then they cry for their Bauble again.

PERKIN _in a_ Cole-Sack: _Or, the_ Collier's _Buxome Wife of St._ James's.

[Music]

Come all that are disposed a while, And listen to my Story; I shall not you of ought beguile, But plainly lay before ye: How Buxome _Ruth_ had often strove, With no small Pains and Labour; Her own Sufficiency to prove, By many a Brawny Neighbour.

She oft was heard for to Complain, But still with little Profit; That Nature made her Charms in vain, Unless some good come of it: Her Booby seldom was at home, And therefore could not please her; Which made more welcome Guest to come, In Charity to ease her.

Her wishes all were for an Heir, Tho' _Venus_ still refus'd her; Which made the pensive Sinner Swear The Goddess had abus'd her: And since her Suit she did deny, To shew her good Intention; She was resolv'd her self to try An Old, but rare Invention.

Abroad by known Example taught, To one with Child she hasts her; Whereby five Guineas which she brought, The Bargain is made fast, Sir: The Infant soon as brought to light, (For so they had agreed it) Must fall to Buxome _Ruth_ by right, To save her sinking Credit.

Her petticoats with Cushions rear'd, Her Belly struts before her; Her _Ben's_ Abilitys are prais'd, And he poor Fool adores her. Her Stomach sick, and squeamish grown, She pewkes like Breeding Woman, While he is proud to make it known, That he has prov'd a true Man.

Nine Months compleat, the trusty Dame, Her Pain she finds increases; While _Ruth_ affected with the same, Makes ugly and wry Faces: And now a Coach must needs be had, The Brat to shake about, Sir; But e'er return'd _Ben_ was a Dad, For _Perkin_ had crept out, Sir.

The good Ale Firkin strait is tapp'd, And Women all are Jolly; While no one in her round is 'scap'd, For fear of Melancholy: And _Ruth_ in Bed could in her turn, Tho' modest of Behaviour; With all her Heart a Bob have born, Had she not fear'd a Feaver.

Thus Jovially the time they spend, In Merriment and Quaffing; Whilst each one does the Brat commend, As _Ben_ did still keep Laughing: And now to tell is my Intent, How Fortune to Distaste her; _Ruth's_ future Boasting did prevent, By one most sad Disaster.

A Search was made at t'other Home, By Overseers quick sighted; The Mother to Confession comes, By Threats being much Affrighted; Thus all their Mirth at once was Cool, Fate all their hopes did hamper; So _Ben_ lives on the self same Fool, Tho' _Ruth_ was forc'd to scamper.

_And if the Truth of this you doubt, The Overseers can make it out._

_The Man of_ Honour: _Or, the Unconstant World turn'd upside down: To the foregoing_ Tune.

How is the World transform'd of late, In Country, Court, and City; As if we were decreed by Fate, To sing a mournful Ditty: About the dismal change of Things, There was no sooth in Fauner; In the blest Reigns of former Kings, _When I was a Man of Honour_.

I kept a Castle of my own, With Land five Thousand Acres; When old King _Harry_ grac'd the Throne, Before the Time of Quakers: My Doors and Gates stood open Wide, I lackt no Ring nor Runner; An Ox each Day I did provide, _When I was_, &c.

My Guess all Day went in and out, To Feast and cheer their Senses; Could I but bring the Year about, I grudg'd not my Expences: My Talent was to feast the Poor, I valu'd no Court Fauner; Of Cooks I kept full half a Score, _When I was_, &c.

When _Christmas_ Day was drawing near, To Cheer and make them Merry; I Broach'd my humming Stout _March_ Beer, As brown as the Hawthorn Berry: Of which there was not any lack, I was my self the Donor; 'Twas fetch'd up in a Leathern _Jack_, _When I was_, &c.

I never lay in Trades-mens Books, For Gaudy Silks or Sattins; Nor did I pay with Frowning looks, Or broken Scraps of _Latin_: They had my Gold and Silver free, I fear'd not any Dunner; All Men was glad to deal with me, _When I was a Man of Honour_.

I never kept my _Hawkes_ and _Hounds_, Or Lew'd and Wanton Misses; I'd never sell or Mortgage Towns, To purchase Charming Kisses: Of those that seek their Prey by Night, Each cunning Female Fauner; My Lady was my Hearts Delight, _When I was_, &c.

I never hid my Noble Head, For any Debt contracted; Nor from the Nation have I fled, For Treasons basely Acted: Nor did I in the least Rebel, To make my self a Runner: My Loyalty was known full well, _When I was_, &c.

I never did betray my trust, For Bribes more sweet than Honey; Nor was I false, or so unjust, To sink the Nations Money: My _Lands_ and _Livings_ to enlarge, By wronging each good Donor: I Built not at the Nation's Charge, _When I was_, &c.

We find now in these latter Days, Some Men hath delegated; From Truth, and found out greedy ways, This should be regulated: And act henceforth with Heart and Hand, Oppose the Sons of _Bonner_; I lov'd my King and serv'd my Land, _When I was_, &c.

For Bounty, Love and large Relief, For Noble Conversation; For easing the poor Widows Grief, In Times of Lamentation: For House of Hospitality, I'll challenge any Donor; There's few or none that can outvey, _King_ Henry's _Man of Honour_.

_A_ SONG, _Set by Mr._ FRANK.

Fickle Bliss, fantastick Treasure, Love how soon, how soon, How soon thy Joys, are past? Since we soon must lose the Pleasure, Oh! 'twere better ne'er to tast: Gods! How sweet would be possessing, Did not Time its Charms destroy; Or could Lovers with the Blessing, Lose the Thoughts of _Cupid's_ Joy: Lose the Thoughts, the Thoughts, The Thoughts of _Cupid's_ Joy.

Cruel Thoughts, that pain yet please me, Ah! no more my rest destroy; Shew me still if you would ease me, Love's Deceits, but not it's Joy: Gods what kind, yet cruel Powers, Force my Will to rack my Mind! Ah! too long we wait for Flowers, Too, too soon, to fade design'd.

_A_ SONG, _Set by Mr._ Akeroyde.

[Music]

That scornful _Sylvia's_ Chains I wear, The Groves and Streams can tell; Those blasted with my Sighs appear, These with my Tears my Tears, o're swell. But Sighs and Tears bring no redress, And Love that sees, that sees me grieve; Conspires with _Sylvia_ to oppress, The Heart he should relieve.

The God that should reward my Pain, Makes _Sylvia_ more my Foe: As She encreases in Disdain, He makes my Passion grow: And must I, must I still admire, Those Eyes that cause my Grief? 'Tis just, since I my self conspire Against my own Relief.

_A_ SONG, _Set by Mr._ ROBERT KING.

All own the Young _Sylvia_ is fatally Fair; All own the Young _Sylvia_ is pretty; Confess her good Nature, and easie soft Air, Nay more, that's She's wanton and witty. Yet all the keen Arrows at _Damon_ still cast, Cou'd never, cou'd never, his quiet destroy, 'Till the cunning _Coquett_, shot me flying at last; _By a Jene say, Jene say, quoy_, _By a Jene say, Jene say, quoy._

So tho' the young _Sylvia_ were not very Fair, Tho' she were but indifferently pretty; Much wanting _Aurelia's_, or _CÊlia's_ soft Air, But not the dull sence of the City: Yet still the dear Creature wou'd please without doubt, And give me abundance of Joy; Since all that is missing is plainly made out, _By a Jene say, Jene say quoy._

_A_ SONG, _Set by Mr._ FRANK.

[Music]

A Swain in despair, Cryed Women ne'er trust, Alass they are all Unkind or unjust. A Nymph who was by, Soon thus did reply; The Men we all find More false and unkind.

Except me he cryed, And me She replyed, Then try me said he, I dare not said she: The Swain did pursue, Each alter'd their Mind: She vow'd He was true, He swore She was kind.

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ AKEROYDE.

[Music]

Wo'as me poor Lass! what mun I do? Gin I did my bonny _Sawney_ slight, He now gangs a blither Lass to woo, And I alene poor Lass ligs ev'ry Night. Curse on Fickleness and Pride, By which we silly Women are undone: What my _Sawney_ begg'd and I deny'd Alass! I long to grant, but now he's gone.

When he was kind I made a Strife, Yet I then deny'd with mickle Woe; For he su'd as gin, he begg'd for Life, And almost dy'd poor Lad! when I said no: Well I keen'd, he woo'd to wed, Yet fear'd to own, I lov'd the canny Loon; Ah would he have stay'd he might have sped, Waa's me! why would my _Sawney_ gang so soon.

_A_ SONG.

[Music]

Richest Gift of lavish Nature, Matchless darling of my Heart; Ah! too dear, too charming Creature, You on Earth a Heav'n impart. Rapt in Pleasure past expressing, I with Bliss almost expire; Cou'd we still be thus possessing, God's who would your State desire.

Kindling Glances quickning Kisses, That like Time so soon are past; Crowding Joys to eager Blisses, Still renewing may you last: Nor by a fantastick Fashion, Being lawful please the less; But may I indulge my Passion, Blest in none but her I bless.

TOM _Tinker_.

[Music]

_Tom_ Tinker's my true love, and I am his Dear, And I will go with him his Budget to bear; For of all the young Men he has the best luck, All the Day he will Fuddle, at Night he will ---- This way, that way, which way you will, I am sure I say nothing that you can take Ill.

With Hammer on Kettle he tabbers all Day, At Night he will tumble on Strumil or Hay; He calls me his Jewel, his delicate Duck, And then he will take up my Smicket to ---- _This way_, &c.

_Tom Tinker_ I say was a Jolly stout Lad, He tickled young _Nancy_ and made her stark mad; To have a new Rubbers with him on the Grass, By reason she knew that he had a good ---- _This way_, &c.

There was an old Woman on Crutches she came, To lusty _Tom Tinker_, _Tom Tinker_ by Name; And tho' she was Aged near threescore and five, She kickt up her Heels and resolved to ---- _This way_, &c.

A beautiful Damsel came out of the West, And she was as Jolly and brisk as the best; She'd Dance and she'd caper as wild as a Buck, And told _Tom_ the _Tinker_, she would have some ---- _This way_, &c.

A Lady she call'd him her Kettle to mend, And she resolved her self to attend; Now as he stood stooping and mending the Brass, His Breeches was torn and down hung his ---- _This way_, &c.

Something she saw that pleased her well, She call'd in the _Tinker_ and gave him a spell; With Pig, Goose and Capon, and good store of suck, That he might be willing to give her some ---- _This way_, &c.

He had such a Trade that he turn'd me away, Yet as I was going he caus'd me to stay; So as towards him I was going to pass, He gave me a slap in the Face with his ---- _This way_, &c.

I thought in my Heart he had struck off my Nose, I gave him as good as he brought I suppose; My Words they were ready and wonderful blunt, Quoth I, I had rather been stobb'd in my ---- _This way_, &c.

I met with a Butcher a killing a Calf, I then stepp'd to him and cryed out half: At his first denial I fell very sick, And he said it was all for a touch of his ---- _This way_, &c.

I met with a Fencer a going to School, I told him at Fencing he was but a Fool; He had but three Rapiers and they were all blunt, And told him he should no more play at my ---- _This way_, &c.

I met with a Barber with Razor and Balls, He fligger'd and told me for all my brave alls; He would have a stroke, and his words they were blunt, I could not deny him the use of my ---- _This way_, &c.

I met with a Fidler a Fidling aloud, He told me he had lost the Case of his Croud; I being good natur'd as I was wont, Told him he should make a Case of my ---- _This way, and that way, and which way you can, For the Fairest of Women will lye with a Man._

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ KING.

When on her Eyes, When on her Eyes, My happy Stars I gaze, A strange Commotion seizes every part. Fain would I speak, fain would I speak, The cause of my Disease; But fear to tell the Story of my Heart. Her look severe, Her look severe, Yet O endearing awes, Yet O endearing awes, The Women's Envy, The Women's Envy, But Mankind's applause, But Mankind's applause.

_Miss_ CUDDY.

[Music]

Poor _Sawney_ had marry'd a Wife, And he knew not what to do with her; For she'd eat more Barly-bread, Then he knew how to give her: We'll all sup together, we'll all sup, _&c._ We'll make no more Beds than one, 'Till _Jove_ sends warmer Weather. We'll all lig together, we'll all lig together, We'll make no more Beds than one, 'Till _Jove_ sends warmer Weather.

We'll put the Sheep's-head in the Pot, The Wool and the Horns together; And we will make Broth of that, And we'll all sup together, We'll all sup together, we'll all sup together, We'll make no more Beds than one, 'Till _Jove_ sends warmer Weather, We'll all lig together, _&c._

The Wool shall thicken the Broth, The Horns shall serve for Bread, By this you may understand, The Virtue that's in a Sheep's-head: And we'll all sup together, we'll all sup together, We'll make no more Beds than one, 'Till _Jove_ sends warmer Weather, And we'll all lig together, _&c._

Some shall lig at the Head, And some shall lig at the Feet, Miss _Cuddy_ wou'd lig in the middle, Because she'd have all the Sheet: We'll all lig together, we'll all lig together, We'll make no more Beds than one, 'Till _Jove_ sends warmer Weather, And we'll all lig together, _&c._

Miss _Cuddy_ got up in the Loft, And _Sawney_ wou'd fain have been at her, Miss _Cuddy_ fell down in her Smock, And made the glass Windows to clatter: We'll all lig together, we'll all lig together, We'll make no more Beds than one, 'Till _Jove_ sends warmer Weather, We'll all lig together, _&c._

The Bride she went to Bed, The Bridegroom followed after, The Fidler crepp'd in at the Feet, And they all lig'd together, We'll all lig together, _&c._

_A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ AKEROYDE.

[Music]

Beneath a cool Shade _Amaryllis_ was sate, Complaining of Love and bemoaning her Fate; Ah! she cry'd, why must Maids be so formal and Coy, To deny what they think is their only true Joy? And Custom impose on us so much ado, When our Hearts are on fire, and Love bids us fall too; And Custom impose on us so much ado, When our hearts are on fire, and Love bids us fall too.

Young _Strephon_ was near her, and heard the Complaint, He easily guest what the Damsel did want; He rush'd in upon her, in Kisses reply'd, Caught her fast in his Arms, she faintly deny'd: What they did without study, we soon may divine, 'Twas _Strephon's_ Luck then, the next Minute be mine.

CLARINDA'S _Complaint_. _Tune of_ Ianthe _the Lovely_.

With sighing and wishing, and Green-sickness Diet, With nothing of Pleasure, and little of Quiet; With a Granum's Inspection, and Doctor's Direction, But not the Specifick, that suits my Complexion: The Flower of my Age is full blown in my Face, Yet no Man considers, yet no Man considers My comfortless Case.

Young Women were valued, as I have been told, In the late times of Peace, above Mountains of Gold; But now there is Fighting, we are nothing but sliting, Few Gallants in Conjugal Matters delighting: 'Tis a shame that Mankind, should love killing and slaying And mind not supplying the stock that's decaying.

Unlucky _Clarinda_, to love in a Season, When _Mars_ has forgotten to do _Venus_ Reason; Had I any Hand in Rule and Command, I'd certainly make it a Law of the Land: That killers of Men, to replenish the Store, Be bound to the Wedlock, and made to get more.

Enacted moreover for better dispatch, That where a good Captain meets with an o'ermatch, His honest Lieutenant with Soldier-like Grace, Shall relieve him on Duty, and serve in his Place: Thus killers and slayers of able good Men, Without beat of Drum may recruit 'em agen.

_A_ BALLAD _by the late Lord_ DORSET, _when at Sea_.

[Music]

To you fair Ladies now at Land, We Men at Sea indite; But first wou'd have you understand, How hard it is to write: The Muses now, and _Neptune_ too, We must implore to write to you; _With a Fa la, la, la, la_, The Muses now, _&c._

But tho' the Muses should be kind, And fill our empty Brain; Yet if rough _Neptune_ cause the Wind, To rouse the _Azure_ Main: Our Paper, Pens, and Ink and we, Rowl up and down our Ships at Sea, _With a Fa la_, &c.

Then if we write not by each Post, Think not that we're unkind; Nor yet conclude that we are lost, By _Dutch_, by _French_, or Wind, Our grief will find a speedier way, The Tide shall bring them twice a day, _With a Fa la_, &c.

The King with wonder and surprize, Will think the Seas grown bold; For that the Tide does higher rise, Then e'er it did of old: But let him know that 'tis our Tears, Sends floods of Grief to _White-Hall_ Stairs, _With a Fa la_, &c.

Shou'd Count _Thoulouse_ but come to know, Our sad and dismal Story; The _French_ wou'd scorn so weak a Foe, Where they can get no Glory: For what resistance can they find, From Men as left their Hearts behind, _With a Fa la_, &c.

To pass our tedious time away, We throw the merry Main; Or else at serious _Ombra_ play, But why shou'd we in vain, Each others ruin thus pursue, We were undone when we left you, _With a Fa la_, &c.

When any mournful Tune you hear, That dyes in e'ery Note; As if it sigh'd for each Man's care, For being so remote: Think then how often Love we've made, To you while all those Tunes were play'd, _With a Fa la._, &c.

Let Wind and Weather do its worst, Be you to us but kind; Let _French-men_ Vapour, _Dutch-men_ Curse, No Sorrows we shall find: 'Tis then no matter how things go, Nor who's our Friend, nor who our Foe, _With a Fa la._, &c.

Thus having told you all our Loves, And likewise all our Fears; In hopes this Declaration moves, Some Pity to our Tears: Let's hear of no Inconstancy, We have too much of that at Sea, _With a Fa, la, la, la, la._

_Bonny_ KATHERN LOGGY. _A_ Scotch SONG.

[Music]

As I came down the hey Land Town, There was Lasses many, Sat in a Rank, on either Bank, And ene more gay than any; Ise leekt about for ene kind Face, And Ise spy'd _Willy Scroggy_; Ise spir'd of him what was her Name, And he caw'd her _Kathern Loggy_.

A sprightly bonny Gurl sha was, And made my Heart to rise _Joe_; Sha was so fair sa blith a Lass, And Love was in her Eyes so: Ise walkt about like ene possest, And quite forgot poor _Moggy_; For nothing now could give me rest, But bonny _Kathern Loggy_.

My pratty _Katy_ then quoth I, And many a Sigh I gave her; Let not a Leard for _Katy_ die, But take him to great Favour: Sha laught aloud, and sa did aw, And bad me hemward to ge; And still cry'd out awaw, awaw, Fro bonny _Kathern Loggy_.