keeping of sweet Sir Iarvis They gave him a Clister made his belly to blisteâ—â— Oh there was a sweet piece of service 11. â—his freind he denied and would not abide A Marrige that so would shame us â—etween this sweet Matron this grave Patron Oh Patron of Ignoramus 12. Now Weston and Horn and Turner do turn And say that this plot was fraude These may say their pleasure some think hard measure Oh knaves and Punkes and Bawds A SONG THou Shephard whose intentive eye On every Lambe is such a spie No willy foe can make them less Where may I find my Sheaperdess A little pausing then said he How can this Jewel stay from thee â—n Summers heat in winters cold â— thought thy brest had been her folde It is indeed the constant place Wherein my thoughts still see her face And print her Image in my heart But yet my fond eyes crave a part With that he smiling said I might Of Cloaris party have a sight And some of her perfections meet In every flower that 's fresh and sweet That growing Lilly weares her skin The Violet her blew veines within The Damaske Rose now blown and spread Her sweeter cheeks her lips as red The winds that wanton with the Spring Such Odors as her breathings bring But the resemblance of her eyes Was never found beneath the skies Her charming voice who strives to fit His object must be higher yet For Heavens Earth and all we see Disperst collected is but she A maide at this discourse methoughts Love both ambition in me wrought And made me covet to ingross A wealth would prove a publick loss With that I sighth ashamed to see Such worth in her such want in mee Closing both mine eyes forbid The world my sight since she was hid A Song To the Tune of Packingtons Pound 1. MY masters and friends and good people draw near And look to your Purses for that I do say And though little mony in them you do wear It cost more to get than to lose in a day You oft have been told Both the young and the old And bidden beware of the Cut-purse so bold Then if you take heed not free me from this curse Who both give you warning for and the Cut-purse Youth youth thou hadst better been sterv'd by thy Nurse Then live to be hanged for cutting a purse 2. It hath been upbraided to men of my Trade That oft-times we are the cause of this crime Alack and for pity why should it be said As if they regarded or places or time Examples have been Of some that were seen In Westminster Hall yea the Pleaders between Then why should the Judges be free from this curse More than my poor self for cutting the purse Youth youth c. 3. At Worcester 't is known well and even i'th'Jayl A Kt. of good worth did there shew his face Against the frail sinner in rage for to rail And lost ipso facto his purse in the place Nay ev'n from the seat Of Judgment so great A Judge there did lose a fair purse of Velvet O Lord for thy mercy how wicked or worse Are those that so venture their necks for a purse Youth youth c. 4. At Playes and at Sermons and at the Sessions 'T is daily their practice such booty to make Yea under the Gallows at Executions They stick not they stare about purses to take Nay one without Grace At a better place At Court and in Christmas before the Kings face Alack then for pity must I bear the curse That onely belong to the cunning Cut-purse Youth youth c. 5. But O you vile nation of Cut-purses all Relent and repent and amend and be â—ound And know that you ought not by honest mens fall To advance your own fortunes to dye above ground And though you go gay In Silks as you may It is not the high-way to Heaven as they say Repent then repent you for better for worse And kiss not the Gallows for cutting a purse Youth youth thou hadst better been sterv'd by thy nurse Then live to be hanged for cutting a purse To the Tune of I wail in wo I plunge in pain OR LABANDOLA shot Verse 1. IN Cheapside famous for Gold and Plate Quicksilver I did dwell of late I had a master good and kind That would have wrought me to his mind He bade me still work upon that But alas I wrought I knew not what He was a Touch-stone black but true And told me still what would ensue Yet wo is me I would not learn I saw alas but covld not discern Verse 2. I cast my Coat and Cap away I went in Silks and Sattens gay False mettal of good manners I Did daily coyne unlawfully I scorn'd my master being drunk I kept my Gelding and my Punk And with a Knight Sir Flash by name Who now is sorry for the same Verse 3. Still Eastward-Hoe was all my word But Westward I had no regard Nor ever thought what would come after As did alas his youngest Daughter At last the black Oxe trod on my foot I saw then what belong'd unto 't Now cry I Touch-stone touch me still And make me current by thy skill Verse 4. O Manington thy stories show Thou cut'st a Horse head off at a blow But I confess I have not the force For to cut off the head of a Horse Yet I desire this grace to win That I may cut off the Horse head of sin And leave his body in the dust Of sins high-way and bogs of lust Whereby I may take Vertue 's purse And live with her for better for worse Verse 5. Farewel Cheapside farewel sweet Trade Of Goldsmiths all that never shall fade Farewel dear Fellow-prentises all And be you warned by my fall Shun Usurers bonds and Dice and Drabs Avoid them as you would French scabs Seek not to go beyond your teacher And cut your thongs unto your leather So shall you thrive by little and little Scape Tyburn Counters and the Spittle A Song 1. LAdies here I do present you With a dainty dish of fruit The first it was a Poplin Pear 'T was all the fruit the tree did bear You need not pare it any whit But put it all in at a bit And being let a while to lye 'T will melt 't will melt 't will melt most pleasantly 2. The next in order you shall have A rich Potata and a brave Which being laid unto the fire God Cupid kindles to desire For when 't is baste with little cost 'T will baste it self when it is rost It needs no sugar nor no spice 'T will please a stomach nere so nice 'T will make a maid at midnight cry It comes it comes it comes it comes most pleasantly 3. The next by lot as doth befall Is two handfuls of Roundsefals Which Priamus the Garden god Made Venus eat within the Cod You must not prune too much at first For if you do tears out will
when I 'me at leasure He that loves half a day sins without measure Cupid come tell me what art hath thy mother To make me love one face more then another 2. Men to be thought more wise daily endeavour To make the world believe they can love ever Ladies believe them not they will deceive you For when they have their wills then they will leave you 3. Men cannot feast themselves with your sweet features They love variety of charming creatures Too much of any thing sets them a cooling Though they can do nothing they wil be fooling Another Catch YOu say you love me and you swear it too But stay Sir 't will not do I know your oaths Just as your wearing cloaths Whil'st now and fresh in fashion But once grown old you lay them by Forgot like words were spoke in passion I 'le not believe you I. The Frollique THere 's none but the glad-man Compar'd to the mad-man Whose heart is still empty of care His fits and his fancies Are above all mischances And mirth is his ordinary fare Then be thou mad And he mad Mad all let us be There 's no men lead lives more merry than we The Tinkers 1. HA' you any work for a Tinker mistris Old brass old bowles old kettles I 'le mend them all with a faradiddle-twang And never harm your mettals 2. But first let me taste a cup of your Ale To steel me against cold weather For Tinkers fees are Vintners Lees Or Tobacco choose you whether 3. Then of your Ale of your nappy Ale I wish I had a firkin For I am old and very very cold Yet I never wore a Jerkin The Toper 1. HOld hold thy nose to the pot Tom Tom And hold thy nose to the pot Tom Tom 'T is thy pot And my pot And my pot And thy pot Sing hold thy nose to the pot Tom Tom. 2. 'T is malt that will cure thy maw Tom And heal thy distempers in Autumn Felix quem facient I prethee be patient Aliena pericula cautum 3. Then hold thy nose to the pot Tom Tom Hold hold thy nose to the pot Tom Tom. There 's neither Parson nor Vicar But will tosse off his liquor Sing hold thy nose to the pot Tom Tom. Half mild and half stale 1. UNderneath the Castle-wall the Queen of love sate mourning Tearing of her golden locks her red-rose cheeks adorning With her Lilly white hands she smote her brest And said she was forsaken With that the mountains they did skip And the hills fell all a quaking 2. Underneath the rotten hedge the Tinker's wife fate shiting Tearing of a Cabbidge leaf her shitten Ar a wiping With her cole-black hands she scratcht her Ar And swore she was beshitten With that the Pedlars all did skip And the Fidlers fell a spitting A Resolution not to marry IF she be fair I fear the rest If she be sweet I 'le hope the best If she be fair they 'l say she 'l do If she be foul she 'l do so too If she be fair she 'l breed suspect If she be foul she 'l breed neglect If she be born o' th' bettet sort Then she doth savour of the Court If she be of the City born She 'l give the City arms the Horn. If she be born of parents base I scorn her vertues for her place If she be fair and witty too I fear the harm her wit may do If she be fair and do want wit I love no beauty without it In brief be what she will I 'm one That can love all but will wed none Another 1. I Am resolv'd in my belief No woman has a soul But to delude that is the chief To which their fancies roul Else why should my Aemilia fail When she her faith had given Since oaths that either ears assail Recorded are in Heaven 2. But as the Chymists glowing fire Swels up his hope of prize Untill the spirits quite expire And so his fortune dies So though they seem to chirp and speak What we do most implore They but enflame us till we break And never mind us more Song I Prethee sweet heart grant me my desire For I 'm thrown as the old Proverb goes Out of the frying-pan into the fire And there is none that will pity my woes Then hang or drown'd thy self my muse For there is not a T. to chuse Most maides prove coy of late though they seem holyer Yet I believe they are all of a kind Like will to like quoth the Devil to the Collier They will prove true when the Devil is blind Let no may yield to their desire For the burnt childe still dreads the fire What though my love as white as a Dove is Yet you would say if you knew all within That shitten come shites the beginning of Love is And for her favour I care not a pin No love of mine she e're shall be Sir reverence of your company Though her disdainfulness my heart hath cloven Yet I am of so stately a mind Nere to creep into her arse to bake in her oven 'T is an old Proverb that cat will to kind No I will say untill I die Farewel and behang'd that 's twice god buy Alas no rejoycing or comfort I can take In her that regards not the worth of a lover A T. is as good for a sow as a pancake Swallow this Gudging I 'le fish for another She nought regards my aking heart Tell a mare a tale and she 'l let a fart I am as sure as my shooes are made of leather Without good advice or fortunate helps We two shall never set our horses together This is so like a Bear that is rob'd of her whelps Therefore of me it shall nere be said I have brought an old house upon my head Fall back fall edge I never will bound be To make a match with tag rag or longtale Best is best cheap if I miss not the naile Shall I toile gratis in their durt First they shall do as doth my shurt Solicitation to a marryed Woman THou dost deny me cause thou art a wife Know she that 's marryed lives a single life That loves but one abhor the nuptial curse Ty'd thee to him for better and for worse Variety delights the active bloud And women the more common the more good As all goods are their 's no adultery And marriage is the worst monopoly The learned Roman Clergy admits none Of theirs to marry they love all not one And every Nun can teach you 't is as meet To change your bed-fellow as smock or sheet Say would you be content onely to eat Mutton or Beef and taste no other meat It would grow loathsome to you and I know You have two pallats and the best below Tom of Bedlam FRom forth the Elizian fields A place of restlesse soules Mad Maudlin is come to seek her naked Tom Hells fury she controules The damned laugh to see her Grim Plutoâ—colds â—colds and
To Geneva or Amsterdam Bishopricks are voiding Scotland shall I thither Or follow Windebank or Finch to see if either Do want a Priest to shrieve them O no 't is blustring weather Alas c. Ho Ho Ho I have hit it Peace goodman fool Thou hast a trade will fit it Draw thy Indenture Be bound at adventure An aprentise to a free-school There thou mayst command by William Lillys Charter There thou mayst whip strip hang and draw and quarter And commit to the red rod both Tom and Will and Arthur I I 't is thither thither will I go The Townsmen's Petition to the King that Cambridge might be made a City NOw scholers look unto it For you will all be undone For the last week you know it The townsmen rid to London The mayor if that he thrives Has promis'd on his word The King a paire of knives If he 'l grant him a sword That he may put the Beadles down And walk in worship here And kill all Schollers in the town That thus do domineere And then unto the Court They do themselves repaire To make the King some sport And all his Nobles there He down upon his knee Both he and they together A sword he cryes good King give me That I may cut a feather There 's none at all I have at home VVill fit my hand I swear But one of yours will best be come A sword to domineere These schollers keep such reaks As makes us all afraid For if to them a townsman speak They will pull off his beard But if your Grace such licence gives Then let us all be dead If each of us had not as live He should pull off his head They call us silly Dunkirks too VVe know not why nor where All this they do and more then this Cause they will domineere A speech if I do make That has much learning in 't A scholler comes and takes't And sets it out in print We dare not touch them for our lives Good King have pity on us For first they play opon our wives And then make Songs upon us Would we had power to put And turn on them the jeer Then we 'd do the best we could But we would domineere They stand much on their wit We know not what it is But surely had we liked it We had got some e're this But since it will no better be We are constrain'd to frame Petitions to your Majesty These witty ones to tame A sword would scare them all I say And put them in great fear A sword therefore good King we pray That we may domineere Which if your Grace permits VVee 'l make them look about 'um But yet they are such pleasant wits VVe cannot live without ' um They have such pretty arguments To run upon our score They say fair words and good intents Are worth twice as much more And that a Clown is highly grac'd To sit a scholler near And thus we are like fools out-fac'd And they do domineere Now if you will renew To us your Graces Charter Wee 'l give a ribbond blew To some Knight of the Garter A cap also we want And maintenance much more And yet these schollers brag and vaunt As if they had good store But not a penny we can see Save once in twice seven year They say it is no policy Dunkerks should domineere Now reason reason eryes alas Good Lordlings mark it well A scholler told me that it was A perfect parallel Their case and ours so equal stands As in a way-scale true A pound of Candles in each hand Will neither higher shew Then prethee listen to my speech As thou shalt after hear And then I doubt it not my Liege But we shall domineere Vice-chancellours they have And we have mayors wise grave VVith Proctours and with taskers Our Bailiffes we may seize Their silver staves keep much adoe Much more our silver Maces And so methinks our Sergeants too Their Beadle-squires out-faces And if we had a sword I think Along the street to bear T' would make the proudest of 'em shrink And we should domineere They have Patrons of Nobility And we have our partakers They 'ave Doctors of Divinity And we our basket-makers Their heads are our brethren dear Their Fellowes our housholders Shall match them and we think to bear Them down by head and shoulders A sword therefore good King we pray That we may keep them there Since every dog must have his day Let us once domineere When they had made the King to laugh And see one kiss his hand Then little mirth they make as if His mind they understand Avoid the room an Usher cryes The King would private sup And so they all came down like fools As they before went up They cry'd God blesse his Majesty And then no doubt they sweare They 'le have the town made a City And there to domineere But wot you what the King did think And what his meaning was I vow unto you by this drink A rare device he has His Majesty has pen'd it That they 'l be ne're the better And so he meanes to send it All in a Latin letter Which when it comes for to be read It plainly will appear The townsmen they must hang the head And the schollers must domineere The draining of the Fennes THe up-land people are full of thoughts And do despair of after-rain Now the sun is rob'd of his mornings draughts They 're afraid they shall never have shower again Then apace apace drink drink deep drink deep Whilst 't is to be had lets the liquor ply The drainers are up and a coile they keep And threaten to drain the Kingdom dry Our smaller rivers are now dry land The Eeles are turn'd to serpents there And if old father Thames play not the man Then farewel to all good English Beer Then apace apace drink c. The Dutchman hath a thirsty soul Our Cellars are subject to his call Let every man then lay hold on his boul 'T is pity the German-Sea should have all Then apace apace drink c. Our new Philosophers rob us of fire And by reason do strive do maintaine that theft And now that the water begins to retire We shall shortly have never an Element left Then apace apace drink c. Why should we stay here then and perish with thirst To th' new world in the moon away let us goe For if the Dutch colony get thither first 'T is a thousand to one but they 'l drain that too Then apace apace drink c. Non-sense OH that my lungs could bleat like butter'd pease But bleating of my lungs hath caught the itch And are as mangy as the Irish seas That doth ingender wind-mills on a bitch I grant that Rain-bows being lull'd asleep Snort like a woodknife in a Ladies eyes Which makes her grieve to see a pudding creep For creeping puddings onely please the wise Not that a hard-roe'd Herring should presume To swing a tithe-pig