Selected quad for the lemma: england_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A13495
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A shilling or, The trauailes of twelue-pence
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Taylor, John, 1580-1653.
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1621
(1621)
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STC 23793; ESTC S118272
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18,160
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46
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beardlesse smooth and plaine Because my Soueraigne was a child 't is knowne When as he did put on the English Crowne But had my stamp beene bearded as with haire Long before this is had beene worne out bare For why with me the vnthrifts euery day With my face downewards do at shoue-boord play That had I had a beard you my suppose Th 'had worne it off as they haue done my nose Yet doth my bare face sometimes now and than Make a young beardlesse Boy outface a man For any Boy and I doe both agree To outface any man that doth want me A crosse I beare vpon my other side A glorious figure of true Christian pride And with that crosse I any man can crosse From wrong to iniury from harme to losse And in me is such working powerfulnesse That those that haue me and both crosse and blesse The English and French Armes the Lyons flowres Shewes Fraunce a subiect once to Englands powres And when my Master did respire his breath His sisters Mary and Elizabeth Ordain'd new Twelue-pences with me to ioyne But altred not my badge vpon my Coyne Except a little which King Philip did Which Queene Elizabeth did soone forbid But since the comming of my Soueraigne Iames The Badge vpon my back more worth proclaimes And to mixe state with truth truth with delight Vpon the armes I carie thus I write Vpon the Kings Armes THree Lyons Passant borne by former Kings Subdues the Harp quarters the flowers of France Fourth Lyon Rampant equall honour brings Though hauing power to warre doth peace aduance Vnited in great Iames this Royall stile King of great Britaine Fraunce and Irelands Ile Thus Readers hauing printed for your reading My birth my rising my estate and breeding My Badge my face my Crosse my Annagram How mighty in my great command I am Now will I tell some trauels I haue had And humors of my Masters good and bad Some as I can remember I 'le recite Should I name all 't were almost infinite ONE ask'd the Cinnick wise Athenian The cause why siluer look'd so pale and wan He in reply was quick and answer'd straite Because so many for it lay in waite And did men thinke in what diuersity Of fashions men for me in waite doe lye They would agree together in a tale That I had reason to looke wan and pale I haue of Treason bin made Instrument To betray Kingdomes and to circumuent To vndermine and to subuert the states Of Empires and of mighty Potentates I haue caus'd murder cruell Homicide Foule Fratricide vnnaturall Paricide For which a curse doth vnto me remaine A Runnagate and Vagabond like Caine. And though that God in thund'ring Maiestie For bad man to haue any Gods but he Yet many thousands that commaund forget Not minding God their mindes on me they set To purchase me men haue forsworne and sworne And from the Booke of life their names haue torne For me the Sabaoth is prophan'd with workes Of Christians labours worse then Iewes or Turkes For me those Parents that haue nurst and bred Their Children by them are dishonoured For to haue me to endlesse ioy or woe Some children care not where their Fathers goe I with the deu'ls sole helpe my sole partaker Haue bin an vniuersall Cuckold-maker For where nor wit or beauty could come in In any shape I could admittance win I make the Husband sometimes keepe the dore The whil'st for me his wife doth play the whore And many times to moue all hell to laughter I made a Mother Bawde vnto her daughter I forc'd a Virgine cast off continence And Chastity and put on Impudence I made a reuerend Iudge to take a Bribe I made a Scribe a forged Name subscribe I caus'd a Miser sell his soule to hell Because I here on Earth with him should dwell And eighteene yeares he kept me day and night Lock'd in a Chest not seeing any light And though my lot was thus a Slaue to be Yet was he a farre worser Slaue to me For he had vow'd himselfe to death to pine Rather then spend one penny pot of wine Although he late had swallow'd downe his throat Stinking fresh Herrings threescore for a Groat And he did bide this slauish misery On purpose to debarre my liberty At last this poore rich base penurious Knaue Was borne the way of all flesh to his Graue And his braue heire vpon his backe had got A mourning merry sute long look'd I wote He the next day let flie the ill got treasure And I began to see some worldly pleasure From my old Masters Chest I was assum'd To my young Masters Pockets sweet perfum'd ' Ta bawdy house of the last new translation He bare me with him for his recreation There for a maydenhead he plaid a game Where eightscore more before had done the same There did my Master Knaue discharge the score And went and left me with my Mistris Whore I stay'd not in her seruice long for shee Was not two dayes before she set me free For hauing got a Frenchified heate She was prescrib'd a Dyet and a sweat She gaue me to the Surgeon for some Lotion For Vnguents and a gentle working Potion For Plaisters and for Oyntments in a Box And so I left my Mistris with a Pox. The Surgeon me to the Physitian sent From him I to th' Apothecaery went But there I thought that Hell I had beene in And all the Fiends had in his Boxes bin For it appear'd to me that all his drugs Had got the names of the infernall Bugs Zarzaparilla Colloquintida Auxungia Porci Cassia Fistula Egiptiacum Album Camphiratum Blacke Oxicrotium and white Sublimatum But soone my Master freed me from my feare He to the Tauerne went and left me there And whilst I in the Vintners house remain'd Some knowledge of my Masters state I gain'd Let no man say that drunke my selfe I showe For what I speake I vnderstand and knowe I 'le shew some discommodities that waite For the most part on euery Vintners state First if a rowe of houses stand together All of one bignesse form'd no oddes in either If one of them be to a Vintner let Amongst the rest at double rent 't is set Next if French Wine be twenty pounds the Tonne But a poore penny in a quart is wonne Besides he sometimes in the Caske doth finde Of Lees sixe Gallons for a Lagge behinde And more when in the Celler it is laid The Carmen and Wine-Porters must be paid And by misfortune if the Caske be weake Three or foure Gallons in the ground may leake Or taking vent it may grow dead and flat And then the Vintner little gets by that And if he be a fellow of free hart He now and then must giue a pint or quart His Candles night and day are burning still Within his Seller lest his Wines should spill And if two Kennell-rakers chance to come