Selected quad for the lemma: england_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
england_n	knight_n	sir_n	william_n	7,960	5	8.6280	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A66709	Poor Robins perambulation from Saffron-Walden to London performed this month of July, 1678.	Poor Robin.; Winstanley, William, 1628?-1698.	1678 (1678)	Wing W3076; ESTC R26388	12,821	26

of a Fox-skin smell I bid to him as he made me farewell From Quenden I my ready course did frame Thorow a Town that hath an Vgly name Indeed to call it so they did not well Because that handsom Women in it dwell Nor are the Men for ought that I can find But good condition'd debonair and kind And therefore he who ere the name it gave To call it so was but an ugly K From Vgly I next way to Stansted travel'd Upon a plain High-way well ston'd and gravel'd This Town of Stansted for distinctions sake Doth unto it the name Montfitchet take From the Montfitchets once Lords of great fame And who ere while were owners of the same There at the Bell at my old friend's George Perrin We drunk and tipled like unto a Herring For there is Ale and Stale-beer strong and mighty Will burn i th' fire like unto Aqua-vitae And that the reason is as you may know That this Bells Liquor makes Mens Clappers go Then when mens brains begin for to grow addle Some talk of riding ne'r sat on a Saddle And every one doth think himself a Prince Though he in 's Pocket scarce hath Thirteen-pence This Town from Walden is eight miles they say All which long space I travel'd in one day But wearied sore and having drunken deep The leaden god then summon'd me to sleep So that for to repose my drowzy head It was not long before I went to bed And though I did not go out of my way Yet I that very night in Holland lay Next morn ere Titan shew'd his glorious head My Host did rouze me from my drowzy bed And for so doing this was his pretence To pay a Groat for my last nights offence Which I soon gave unto the jovial Croney For being so ore-reached by Vulpone And being up we briskly did it spend And so of the round Groat made a square end Thus arm'd with Toast and Ale my Muse and I Having no other in our company Footed it on the Road and straightway came Unto a Town Birchanger call'd by name Of which there is a Proverb very old From one Age still unto another told That there they christen Calves which by mens bounty It may extend to each Town in the County Because the plenty of the Veal from thence To call them Essex Calves is a pretence Thorow Birchanger I pass'd without drinking The reason thereof you perhaps are thinking Yet don't believe herein that I do scoff-ye They there sell neither Ale Wine Beer nor Coffee Therefore unless without Town they be sped They very soberly may go to Bed But though such liquors are not sold among them Because that I would willingly not wrong them Strong drink in private Houses there may be Of which the owners may be frank and free But whether that the same be so or no To tell to you the truth I do not know Therefore it to avouch I were to blame Unless that I had tasted of the same Thus something dry within yet ne'retheless In a good plight my way I next address Unto a place call'd Hockrell and there took In at the Crown with honest Mr. Cook Now here I did no entertainment lack With French-Wine Rhenish and good Spanish Sack And being Dinner-time I fill'd my gullet Begun with powder'd Beef ended with Pullet And after Dinner we to drinking fixt With taking of Tobacco intermixt Minding that Town my Journeys end should be For that same night I was resolv'd to see The rarities of the same which to disclose A little while I 'le turn my Verse to Prose This place called Hockrell belongeth to Bishop Storford so named from the Bishops of London who once had a Palace here being an ancient Castle given by William the Conquerour unto the Bishop Mauritius with all the appurtenances belonging thereunto for ever the Ruins of which Castle remain to this day On the upper side of the Town stands a fair Church in which lie Interred many of the Flemings a Family whose numerous branches have spread themselves thorough England Scotland and Wales ever since the time of Sir John le Fleming Knight who flourished in the Reign of King William Rufus Their Market which is kept on on Thursdays is very well served with all sorts of Provisions for the sustentation of life especially Barley and Malt which makes our English Bachanialian juice the operations of which liquor take from the Poet Whilst Pearls and Rubies doth strong drink disclose They make their purse poor to enrich their nose They have three Fairs in the year one nine days before Whitsontide another nine days after it and the third on Michaelmas-day This Town is also accommodated with three Taverns viz. the Crown the Rein-deer and the George at either of which bringing the merry Chink you may have the merry drink How many Ale-houses is there I had not time to number only I saw the signs of some Horned Beasts as the Bull the Ram c. but what the people are that dwell therein I know not but guess you may have good liquor there for your money As for the Cage and Stocks there let those who have been in them give you a description of them And now after this serious view of the Town I returned to my Quarters where I had dined and took up my lodging there that night From Bishop-Storford I next day set forth Unto a Town is called Sabridgworth Contracted Sapssord but call 't what you will In the same place it did the Town stands still Good Corn they say within the same doth grow And good Beer may be in 't for ought I know But at that time I had no list to drink So past I thorough it and sav'd my Chink Unto Pye-corner went I to the Rose Where for a time I staid and tope't my nose There was a jolly Hostess and good tipple Would make the tongue run and the legs a cripple But of large drinking Reader this know of it There is small pleasure in it and less profit 'T will quickly empty all the purse of crosses Which will breed discontentment for such losses My Hostess without coyn you can't accost her Her rule is No peny no Pater-noster She cares not for your company a bean-straw You can't come at her back-side with a hand-saw But if you have the white and yellow mettle She simpers like to a Furmety-kettle The servants nimble are and you may brag on The credit not to call twice for a flaggon The female servants lest they should be shent Do answer as they are incontinent For Claret Sack strong Beer you shall not stand Sir Both Hostess men and maids are at command Sir But if the Purse chance to be in the wane Then you may call and call and call again You have free liberty for to be gone Sir For quickly come is turn'd anon anon Sir Therefore kind Reader spend not all away But keep a peny ' gainst a rainy day Then shall you