shee did not call a porter Still hee did hugg and in his armes enfold her As if he meant to heave her on his shoulder Hee wound her so a stander by strait swore Some gentleman had sent him for a whore Shee cald him rogue and sure shee cald him right Yet hee shee should not goe sware by his light Porter said I take heâ—de though shee be not Too heavy firrah shee may be too hot Besides shee 's of your trade And free shee beares As many burthens as you for your eares Though with this difference shee beares her pack Vpon her bellyâ— you upon your backe Yee both weare baggs distinguist the same way With Fryers shee of black and you of grey You have a pad and shee for ought I saw Was like enough to have a pad i th straw You have a Cord you do about you cast Shee had a cordie robe about her wast Both have your aprons Say you have a frock So shee liâ—es that will rime to it a smock Shee s call'd upon and calls upon her too Sometimes a Porter such a knave as you But I perceive you well whereto she ply ' de And had the fit come on you now to â—ide If not you are a lasiâ— looby right To struggle with a burthen was so light At a Tapsters wedding FAith J will tell you now a prâ—ttie trick This â—apster gat the wench â—ust in the nick Shee was stay there But why should I be loath To tell the truth shee was as light as froath Hence I perceive the Proverbs somâ—â—mes crost For shee that 's light does not lye uppermost Shee had been broacht a hundred times before No matter he had tapt as many more Shee 's modest though as I 'me an honest man Shee blushes just lâ—ke any Câ—dar â—an And cause shee l be a smiâ—king 〈◊〉 shee sweare shee l snatch the smiles from all the laughing bere But here 's enough of her le ts kisse the Cup And if her Husband wonâ— weâ—â— step her up As for his part hee was so crank his geare Out of his Codpeice flew like bottle bere But she hoping the worst did clap her thigh Close to the that nere a dâ—op went by She was a thrifty wench he got from Wopping That thought it sin to loose the least tap-droping I heard her say my selfe though he should fill her Up to the brim he should not want a Killer She told him of his wenching too and swore Unless he left it she would quit his score Nor should he ramble up and down the Town Nor draw through anâ— Fasset but her own Faith if you do and out an Oath she lashes I le find you out among your balderdashes And if youâ— tralops must not be forborne I le break your pots And make you drink in horne But t' end the jeast adding one more t' out passe it See here the Spiggit's marrigâ—d to the Fasset Summer SNakes cast their skins and they are young agâ—â— Summers the substance winter the cast skin Summer is Youth in sprightly Aequipagâ— Winter's decrepit crasie useless Age Sol's aureat beâ—mes so guild the worlds vast stage T were small mistake to ca lt the golden age Summers all praise what need it then a Poet to speak it faire since who know nought else know it I might imbellish summers sweet complexion Call Winter death Summer the resurrection And when â—y tale with all â—y art is told What will the world conclude my news but old Nor is it more then children use to say A sumâ—ers ' evening is a winters day But I le abruptly off and what I have Begun absurdly as absurdly leave Least I goe scale the spheares and blinde with light Set in a cloud simply say Good night In prayse of winter HOnour and Age inhabit the same spheare Winter is the antiquity of the yeare Grave signiour Hyems so his hoary pate And snowy beard denounce his aged state See but how like a statlye traveller Northward hee comes Autumne's his harbinger That bids the trees unmask unueyle their creasts That he may read submission on their breasts Whilst their green ofspring lowly fall to greet The potent presence of his stable feet The gawdy bankes pack up alas here comes No midwise Aprill to unteeme their wombs Nay here the showr'd downe waters stand amaz'd Rivers are Chrystallin'd Neptunâ—s hall is glaz'd Spouts have their pendents paultry thatch receives Translucent Chrystall And adornes his Eaves Iaeda's a fable but I here presume To justifie that Iove descends in plume And that the stupid Earth may know he comes The Heavens send down whole showers of Sugar plums Whilst streets are pav'd with Pearl Let summer boast Such pomp such cates and all my praise is lost But here 's not all of winter you shall 〈◊〉 How 〈…〉 Aeâ—lian tugge But 〈…〉 white â—ugge We may 〈…〉 he can Enjoyne the 〈…〉 a man The saucie Dus◠〈…〉 and mire Merits no mention 〈…〉 are higher Sâ—â—mer breeds surfâ—â—â— and infects the blâ—ud Winter is hâ—ile againe and makes all good Is beauty of est em then winter can Boast hee abstergeth Suâ—mers freckled â—an Ladies so spruce to captivate mens sight Borrow March winds to make that sprusenesse white Winter makes men couragious who dare Dance upon Thâ—tis lap at midsummer In Summers dayes even length and lazinesse meet Winters are short The Proverbs short and sweet There 's none so bad to be call'd dog-dog-dayes here No no we move not in so base a spheare No scorching Sun offends any man may With a good faggot make a Summers day What entertainment to a winters toast VVhat Christmasse pray can Iune or Iuly beast Summer alas hath no Aeolian breath To rescue his perishing souls from death Flame-colourd hearth even â—eady to expire Looks pale as ashes Sol puts out the fire Trees strait are lopt then and their verdant locks Borrow'd to border oâ—t the Chymnie stocks Set out with trunks of trees stumps armes and all As if the Chymnie were some Hospitall In winter time the heaâ—th stands alter wise And men with hands erected sacrifice Whilst in a round the Priests of Bacchus sing Ingenious Anthems to their grape-crownd King In winter men at cold meat make a pish In Suâ—mer they are glad of such a dish Winter hath boyld and bak't and roast Alaâ— Suâ—mer turnes men as men do beasts to grasse VVinter makes warres of tease who would not that If peace and plenty have no praise then whnt I might enlarge my self but thus farre may Suffice to travell on a winters day VVho likes not this a gods name let him run Out of Gods blessings into the warm sun Vpon Yorkshire Ale 1. POx take your Yorkshire Ale It did so firk my taâ—le That that I had like beshit mee Besides so damnd a tumour Postest its divellish humour As it had almost split mee 2. Now hang thee tike of York Thou giv'st us neither Cork Nor yet convenient wedges And know'st thy wylie wort
his exerciâ—o He pipes dances and he dyes And when passing we can tell For he rings out his own knell Vpon his second time being dead drunk LOe here Dead as the bere Was drawn last yeare And Coffind up In a lost Cup Lyes litle heart O Who like a fart O Did now depart O T was ruffe And with a puffe Out went the snuffe Alas how soon T is after noon This morning hee O Was companie O For thee or mee O. â—nd tooke Ahe Spanish smoke Into his poke As if he meant Sir by consent To tune his pipe O But being ripe O Began to type O But P O No more but so T is Oliver O Le ts oversee This scape for hee The truth to tell O Till he was mellow Was a good fellow And shall to morrow morning make 's approach As quick and lively as the fresh abroach An Epitaph upon a Weaver HEre lyes a Weaver whom that Turk And tyrant death turn'd out of work Poore fellow he is gone what though Hee 's out of bonds would I were so Alas he sold Chamelion ware By which he sav'd scarce ought but aire Gone quoth heeâ— pray how should he stay Such gaine will drive us all away Well t was a sad aâ—d suddaine change And yet to me t is nothing strange For trading 's dead and wares will give No price at all how should he live An Epitaph Dedicate to the Memorie of Dr. Ed. Cook UNsluce your Captive flouds what can ye keep Your eyes from teares and see the Marble weep Burst out for shame or if yee find no vent For greife yet stay and see the stones relent Jf still you can forbâ—are weepe then to see Your stupid hearts more stone then Niobe On goodwife Plaine Here with out either welt or gard Lyes goody Plaine in the Church yard Fresh in our memoryes till the next raine Setle the earth againe downe plaine On W. G. A great swearer but litle lyar VVill the swearer 's dead and gon VVhether you may guesse anon Say hee is inheaven J dare not Jn that sacred place they sweare not VVhere then not in hell no doubt For heed sweare the devill ouâ— What must then become of him Does hee neither sinck nor swim Heavens forbid wel'l judge the best And conclude his souls ' at rest Of his oathes hee did repent him And his conscience do'unt torment him And hee shall heavens mercy crav'd By Gods bloud and wounds be sav'd In memoriam Roberti Dey Pharmacap Norv Arts Parramour is dead that men may see Nature hath noâ— hold of eternitie O that my teares were legible that J And my sad muse might weep his elegie Norwich in sorrows weeds attend his urne Iâ— not for his yet for your owne sakes mourne Remember cittizens yee us'd to fly To sue out your reprives from death to Dy Whose salutifierous magazine of artes Was your cheife Sanctuary against death's darts There feeble nature in a trice might be Arm'd against all disseases Cap ape But hee Is gone and in a good old age Tooke his calme Exit of a turbulent stage His death as harmelesse as his birth from whence His years were crownd with double innocence good VVhilst wee for so perhaps heavens have thought Are left to write our stories in our bloud Time's syth hath wounded him but hee hath gâ—t Such semper-vivum as hee feels it not VVith faith hope charitie contrition He made up his Celestiall composition And with an unctious name hee mixt a Roll Of Gratia deâ— for his wounded soule Now his thread yeilded to the Sisters knife For Aqua-vitae hee drinkes water of life Much might unto his prayses spoken be And only this one truth namely that hee Even Dey the true Apothecary was All that are left are but synoyma's To the perpetuall memory of my ever honoured Cozen Mr. E. H. Vnder this sad marble lyes Natures pride and beauties prize Such so sweet her accents were As would charme a Syrens eare Such her modest mode as shee Taught the turtle charitie Jn summe a more veruous wife Never sweetend husbands life To conclude then all was shee Man could wish or woman be Who lyes here like treasure found Not above but under ground A Legacie to VRBANIA an unworthy Cittie Citty ingrate nay worse but I le include All your good nature in ingratitude Wellfare your costly swordes which now yee wouâ—d As faine encrimson in my inocent bloud As ere yee wisht m' Crucifige accept you ah you Hosanna cry and hosenecha too Js it in this in this J pray I wrong yee To spend my selfe and my estate among yee Jf weary steps to make your Citty flourish If head if heart if Purse employ'd to nourish Widows distrest and orphans be a crime Grant heaven no worse offence take up my time Bark on black mouthed envie yee as soone Affright mee as the Syrian wolves the moone Nor doe J envie those have sought with cost The honourable trouble J have lost Lord fill my hart with thanks my mouth with praise My haires may yet see halcyon dayes God guards mee still though I 've no swordes t t' davance Though no fine cap God is my maintenance In Hono rem Poetarum WHose poore conceit is that That Poets should be poore They talk they know not what Alas they wish no more They have Enough in that they see Content is worth a monarchy Do not the sacred Nine Come daily to their houses And break their fast and dine And sup and soop carouses Who calls them poore then that are able To feast the Muses at their table Yee go to Poets when Your dearest friends be dead They give them life agen Though they be buried T is strange then Poets should not live That thus can life to dead men give Yea all the world must know Save those to truth averse The swaine was taught to plow By Virgills fertil verse T is strange then he should needy be Found out the art of Husbandry Riplie was rich I trow VVhose Poems did enfold That which men hunt for soe The art of making Gold He had the Phylosophick stone Sure hee must then be ricâ— or none Yea do not all men say Poets dare any thing Pray was not noble May Calld brother by a King Nor is it more then true report Satyrick lines have hang'd a sort Euridice could tell That being ravisht hence Bold Orpheus ransackt hell And rescu'd her from thence Yea verses so Magnetick are They fetch the Moon down from the sphear Nor have they only power But gifts of prophesie The most celestiall dower Heavens give mortalitie Sure then they can't want costly Cates Being Oracles and Potentates They that have most still itch For more more baggs to stuffe VVhilst they are only rich Can see they have enuffe How poorly fools of Poets prate Come they are poore whom God doth hate Princeps Vates non quovis nascitur anno Man WHat time Iehovah heaven earths Creâ—tor Had
the tribe of Gad Running through Bedlam as they had been mad Shufling and shouldring at so strange a rate As if they strove to enter the strait gate VVith that seeing the conflux of the traine I could not choose but mak 't Turne againe Lane And down the stream making my armes my Oares I row'd to Moore fields where I found more whores Gentle and simple then a man could meet Either in Turn ball or in Turn up Street Satting and Silk and Peticoats brocado Marcht like an Amazonian armado Furious as your French troops scarce ere a wench But by her out side shew her inside French Some zealous Gitt'zens shew their wives that even By being Cuckolds they might go heaven It made me laugh to see their sweeping trailes In spite of Barbars puffes powder their trailes O how the leacherous dust did vaught and rise Twixt the crosse Chevernes of their foaming thighs So light were they so given to the Tup VVhat men would not the very winds took up VVith that said I now too too well perceive I Y' are not the tribe of Gad alone But Levi Meane while the trees in such even order grow They seem'd a second Pater noster row They raild in-grasse-plot as a spacious shop Of Summer weeds for Virgins was set ope And many gallants came from out the towne Thither to give their Ladies a green-Gowne Here is great wrastling Boyes and men and all And here and there a woman takes a fall Venter on which you please if men you like Know then they sayle close by the Wind mil strike If you from men to women be departers You shall not faile to meet them in the quarters And therefore if your purpose that way stand Goe see for them when you canâ—t see your hand And to your work my friend t is Country play Not by the belt but felt catch that catch may Be not discourag'd for the duskie night Bee 't nere so dark I le warrant you a light More of Moore-fields if you desire to know Faith I have ta'ne my turne And so must you Vpon the Sickness and recovery of a faire and fairely promised LADY BUt hadst thou Death such hopes alive Thy sute could ever thrive In flatt'ring her T' her Sepulher From her approaching bridall bed Alaâ—lthy hopes are dead Dead as thy selfe Unwelcome elfe But would you faine forestall forsooth The sweets of bloomy youth Your sute is cold And you too bold Suffice it long time henâ—e that thou Bath in her aged snow Couldst thou her send To thy dark bed Her orient Eye would shoot a ray Should make thy midnight day As though the Sun Did thither run And all his rutilous Jewells set In that close Cabinet Then should mourniâ—n See joyes morning Then palest ashes should revive And Death be made alive VVhilst we blind wee If wee would see Must all our light Cymmerian like From flintie bosomes strike But thanks to Heaven Death is bereaven Th' Eclipse is past and beauties light Ha's banisht dead of night See see the love Of heaven above For we have here Gods blessings got And the warme Sun to boot O let us now Low as earth bow And gratefull sacrifices give To him that here said let her live To a Gentleman desiring mee to write a Paper of Verses upon his sitting whilst the Painter was drawing his Picture ANd Poet too must you your figure see In silent and in speaking poesie I could admit this double task in case You had like Ianus too a double face Say is it your desire whilst he does take Your superficiall lineaments I should make Your vertues image Is it this you mean I must like Momus have a Casement then Or feare you men will say you are a creature Narcisus like in love with your own feature And therefore have the Painter to produce A colour And the Poet an excuse Come be advâ—is'd by mee go to your wife He warrant you your Picture to the life Here you compose your countenance And set Whilst't may be shee 's drawing your counterfeit Come the true way of lively liâ—e commanding Is never done by sitting But by standing Pers. Pictoribus atque Poet is Quidlibet audiendi semper fuit aequa potestas To an impudent Scold that perpetually haunts her Husband and not only abuseth him but what soever Company is with him WOman but may I call the so and not Forfeit that little judgment I have got Is 't not enough yâ—â—re uglie but beside Your ill shape you must be ill quality'd I had suppos'd that such a one as you Whose face a winning feature never knew A woman if that appellation may Be yet allow'd made of the courâ—â—st clay And of a fabrick so imperfect as 't Is well concluded nature was in hast I had suppos'd I say that such a brute Had cause more then enough to have been mute At least shee should if shee had silence broke With Balams Aâ—â—e but once and wisely spoke But you unlock the thunder of your voice And twenty Iron Mills make not more noyse VVhen you beg in the clamouâ— of your prate You make the rabulous râ—â—t at Billings-gate Mute as their Fish VVere you my wife forsooth I should lock up the Barn-doores of your mouth Or ferret-like sow 't up My wife said I Some Planet first dispatch me from the sâ—ie Iâ—de ransack beds of clay and light upon The Devill in a new fal lne sceleton Or what in man or Hells invention wâ—â—s is Them think of the Of thee thou curse of Curses O wretch thy Husband O infortunate I drowne mine Eyes in sorrow for his â—ate I finde in story an inchanted Lasâ—e All day a Hagge All night an angell was His luck poor man is worse for meeting you Hee 's haunted with a Hagge day and night too For when abroad in this sad plight he goes Seeking some corner to unbreast his woes You follow him hot foot and rangâ—e about Beating all bushes till you finde him out And when hee once but in your sight appeares You spend And with full cry confound his eares And ours too who admire what you intend him VVhether to bait him or to apprehend him Thus like Actâ—on with affrights hedg'd round Hee flyes the furie of his owne feirce hound We know your language you Tartarian whore That use to play bo-peep at Tavern dore Peaking for pimping rascalls and when ere Yâ—â— feare discovery what 's my Husband herâ— Thus you obstreperous strumpet Thus you must Make your poore Husband cloak for your base lust Come come the provetb yet did never faile They that are quick of tongue are quick of taile And I too plainly see though I am loth To be too publick you are quick of both He blast you with contâ—mpt if ere you come To ask for Husband henceforth in my roome And teare your tongue from roofe and roots if ere I heare againe What is my Husband here And to the Company speak a word unmeet Wee
Endeare us to our God for new defence But would you be reveng'd then thus let 't be Plot so as he that made the eye may'nt see To the right honourable the C. of Dâ—RSET Promising a Gentleman her 〈◊〉 in marriage MADAM THe charmefull language from your lips distilld My ravisht eares with heavenly musick fill'd Had I led Love unto your Neeces heart And praid him there transsix his keenest dart His being blind would have left him exempt From penalty And charg'd the whole attempt On my accompt whose boldnes durst aspire Prometheus like unto celestiall fire T were secriledged and just such to bereave Diaâ—â— of a Numph without her leave Or steal a starre from off his region Whilst Phebe slept with her Endymion I had been fellon to your honours bloud And stolne a cignet from that royall floud Had not your grace first given me my book The golden Scepter of your gracious look But now with humble confidence I resort To this faire stream having your warrant for 't Only let me beseech your honour that You 'd ratifie it with a second date Then being armd with this encouragement My next addresse is to the Lady bent My fortunes balance on whose only breath ' Depends the sentence of my life or death If such a match felicitate my life I le treat her as â—y Mistresse though my wisse I le study what may please her and contend With fate to make her happie to the end As for you gratious madam deigne mee still The clear beames of your ladyships good will So shall I be assur'd what I commence Shall ripne in such sun light influence Meane while no thought shall from my breast arise But what I dare present as sacrifice Thus J returne my selfe to both whilst shee Possesse my heart your grace commands my knee The weavers Memento mori AN honest weaver willing to make suer His soule and body with arts ligatur Betooke him to his trade and having got The knack on 't knit them on a weavers knot But death a craftie merchant found a brack And let him plainely see t' would hould no tack Here 's stufâ—e quoth hee alas t' will scarse be worth The looking on when J have laid it forth Where is the fresh gloss is this the lively red You spake of tush t is â—aded fled and dead Alack and well â— day the weaver said How dearly have for this colour paid And yet it gives you no content but J. Poore â— must let must leave my work and die Ah! mee impartiall death where thou dost come Thou either cutst of or concludst the thrum My beame is strong but strengh will not prevaile Golyah's speare stout as my beame did faile My nimble shuttle flitting here and there Presents my life 's in stable character Mark but how swift it to its exit tendes So fleetly fly wee all unto our our ends Jt puts but forth and at its port arives So doth our death begin even with our lives My globe like wheel about its pole is hurld Just as the heavens are rapt about the world And turning to my filling boy behind me ' His winding pipes does of my wind pipe mind mee Jf hee stand still J must not work if the aire Fill not my pipes my work will soon impaire A constant motion to my trade belongs So nature hath her loome my breast my lungs My blouds ' her posting shutle swiftly flies Through the strait conduits of my arteries My purple veines her warping is my haire My tendons find my nerves her tackling are My solid parts my able bones are some Appointed beames some holdfasts of her loome And thus in there owne lomes doe all men weavâ— And women too from cradle to theire grave Nor cease wee all above a minites breath Till wee be turned out of worke by death Thus from those instruments by which Jearnt My livelyhood to dye I likewise learnt I looke but on my eyes And I can read In them the seperation of my thread In laying of my coulours still I found The lowest a memento of the ground The fashions teach mee since they keep no stay The fashion of this world passesaway Come then and wellcome death I have enough Of this vaine world It s fraile and druggie stuffe Can tempt mine eyes no more come fetch me home I le give my life for death my loome for lome To Constantia Let others ply the oares t'wixt doubts and feares For I am past those rocks those tydes of tears My sullen starre is fallen warr 's past and I Laiden with trophies of my victorie How doe I blesse my fate that I did meet With one so 〈◊〉 so faithfull and so sweet My humble knee bowes henceforth to no shrine Though Venus were thy rivall but to thine Happy my dearest happie hee may lye Vnder the tropick of thy gracious eye Nothing but death shall my firme faith remove Nothing but the cold flore shall coole my love The Gâ—rdeon knot that could not be unty'd By art did Alexanders sword divide Our love knot 's faster nor shall armes nor arts Vnlink the chain of our vnited hearts The noon-eyd sun may chance run retrograde And as a Daphne follow his own shade Heaven may descend to earth And earth aspire To Heaven And water be at peace with fire Fishes and fowles may change their elements And take a glory in their new contents But when I faile but when I cease to love The center shall from its fixt base remove VVhen I divid the thread our loves have spun The streames shall back upon there fountaines run This I conclude a possibiltie J may forget my name but never thee Ceres cickle whether art thou gone See'st not our hopes into full harvest growne Come boonest â—acchus come let 's have a health To our best wishes love hath store of wealth View here our vintage see our blest increase Of swelling grapes that only want the presse Hast Hymen hast for wee must find in you The end of our desires and verses too To Bovino You bull it Sir as if you meant a prize VVith milo at the bovine exercise Push for wardâ— your good motion Sir you may Encrease my landlords cornucopia But to speake naked truth they say that you Doe not run to the bull but to the cow VVhere you your selfe in manner of a bull Doe give Europa her white belly full And as t is fit you should haveing gone halves In getting now you help to keepe the Calves But have a care St. Stephens wide gates are near You 'l run your selfe ouâ— ere you be aware The FLEETS MY wishes greet The English fleet May no stormes tosse The Harp and Crosse Smile gentle fate Vpon our State Attend all health This Common wealth The Navie of the Dutch I all good fortunes grutch Vantrump and his Sea forces Shall have my daily curses Vpon the Dutch and Dane VVait their eternall bane The Cavalering part I vallew not a fart To adrunken