a cleer night nor could I get To satisfie poor nature one small bit It would have turn'd the stomack of a cook With griefe to see how piteous I did look The little animals did skip and trice About my musty Cell yelped mice Alas thought they will no one us befriend So much as with a Christ mas Candles end Well fare the Chandlers wife may she bear Each year a Chub we pray thee nature where The Midwife leapes to see about the house A Groaning-Cheese delivered of a mouse These in my Conscience if they could have spake Had sung the lamentations for my sake Though I deserv'd no love for for my part I could have eaten them with all my heart I wish'd my selfe a prisoner in the Tower For its alowance sake for halfe an hour A Judges tongue sopt in his greasy hand ' Had been the choicest morsel in the Land The picking of his teeth too had been rare But that so often lick'd with lyes they are A tender Courtier though scarce sound withal I could have swallowed up cloaths legs all But for a fear grant pumpt storme wind This roguish bit I 'de eat and had combinde His carcasle still swallowed whole the evil Sending his soule the back-way to the devil I do believe such was my hungers force I could have eaten my L. Maiors great horse Thus well nigh famish'd with conceit I lay Sriving to sleep and so forget the day But I no sooner halfe asleep could be But straight my entrails crok'd wakend me Silence quoth I you chimes of Christmasnoon And be content to fast with me till soone It may be we shall sup if not I le fill My belly with a dreame good guts be still But fortune unexpected to prevent Despaire aforded me a limbe of Lent Sure she had some strang reason in preferring Before all meats a reverent red Hering I 'm loath to tell thee plainely what it was For fear your mouth should water as you pass And wrong this harmelesse paper by its side Lay a neglected crust forth roughly dry'd That it had been sometime mistook by one That rub'd his bootes with 't for a pumystone Hard fare be witnesse heaven and my jawes That ak'd and bled most freely through the flawes The crust had made upon my tender gumes It scowr'd I thought 't was sand not white bread crumes This if you will beleeve a virtuous sinner Was my best fare for my last Christmas diner I wish not having known the like before I may fare better next or nere know more Sir since my muse can make no better shift My Christmas dinner be your next years gift 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 pitty my woes Then hang or drown'd thy selfe my muse For there is not a T. to chuse Most maides prove coy of late though they seem holyer Yet I beleeve they are all of a kinde Like will to like quoth the Devil to the Collier They will prove true when the devil is blind Let no man yeild 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 ere shall be Sirreverence of your company Though her disdainfulnesse my heart hath cloven Yet I am of so stately a minde Nere to creep into her arse to bake in her oven 'T is an old Proverbe that cat will to kinde No I will say untill I die Farewel and be hanged 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 helpes We two shall never set our horses together This is so like a Beare 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 bounded be To make a match with tag rag or longtale Best is best cheap if I misse not the naile Shall I toile gratis in their durt First they shall do as doth my shâ—rte Solicitation to a married Woman THou dost deny me cause thou art a wife Know she that 's married 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 blood And women the more comon 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 chang your bed-fellow as smock or sheet Say would you be content onely to eat Mutton or beefe and taft no other meat It would grow loathsome to you I know You have two pallets and the best below Tom of Bedlam FRom forth the Elizian feilds 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 Pluto scolds and frets Caren is glad to see poor Maudlin mad And away his boate he gets Through the Earth through the Sea through unknown iles Through the lofty skies Have I sought with sobs and cryes For my hungry mad Tom and my naked sad Tom Yet I know not whether he lives or dies My plaints makes Satyrs civil The Nimphs forget their singing The Fairies have left their gambal and their theft The plants and the trees their springing Mighty Leviathan took a consumption Triton broke his organ Neptune despis'd the Ocean Flouds did leave their flowing Churlish winds their blowing And all to see poor Maudlins action The Torrid Zone left burning The deities stood a striving Dispised Jove from Juno took a glove And strooke down Pan from whistling Mars for feare lay couching Apolloes Cap was fire'd Poor Charles his waine was thrown into the maâ—n The nimble Post lay tir'd Saturn Damas Vulcan Venus All lay husht and drunk Hells fire through heaven was rim Fates and men remorslesse hated our greif horness And yet not one could tell of Tom. Now whether shall I wander Or whether shall I flie The heavens do weep the earth the aire the deepe Are wearied with my cry Let me up and steal the Trumpet That summons all to doome At one poor blast the Elements shall cast All creatures from her wombe Dyon with his Heptune Death with destruction Stormy clouds and weather Shall call all soules together Against I
in order you shall have A rich Potata and a brave Which being laid unto the fire God Cupid kindels to desire For when 't is baste with little cost 'T will baste it selfe 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 Roundsefalls Which Priamus the garden God Made Venus eate within the God You must not prune too much at first For if you doe teares out will burst And being let a while to lye 'T will drop 't will drop 't will drop 't will drop most prettily 4. The best of things in all the land You shall have Mars his onely wand Protecting of that pretty flower Which comes and goes in halfe an houre The flowers of Vertue that doe grow Because they 'l please all women so But when Mars drawes back his wand It lyes it lyes it lyes and cries and cannot stand Vpon the burning of a Petty School WHat heat of learning kindled your desire You cursed sons to set your house on fire What love of honour in your brests did turn Those sparks of fury into flames to burn Or was 't some higher cause were the hot gods Phoebus Vulcan cold friends now at ods What er'e the Cause was surely ill was th' intent When all the Muses justly may lament But above all for names sake Polyhymy Bewails the downfal of that learned Chimny Where you might see without or wit or sense Lay the sad ashes of an Accidence What numbers here of Nowns to wrack did go As Domus Liber and as many moe In woful case no sexe the flames did spare Each gender in this losse had common share There might you see the Ruful declinations Of 15 Pronouns and 4 Conjugations Some Gerunds Die but some Do overcome strook dumb And some with heat and smoak are quite Supines lay gasping upwards void of fences The moods were mad to see imperfect tences Adverbs of place threw down their lofty stories As ubi ibi illic intus foris Conjugations to disjoyn as you would wonder Nor coupling scarce but it was burnt asunder The Praepositions know not where to be Each Interjection cry'd Heu I woe is me For the due joyning of the things again A Neighbour call'd qui mihi comes amain Else sure the fire had into flames so turnd Gods Men Months Rivers Winds and all had burn'd Now'gan the flames to Heteroclites to number And poor supellex lost his plural number Of verbs scarce had escaped one of twenty Had there not been by chance As in presenti T. R. Vpon the fall of Wisbech Bridge HElpe helpe you undertakers all Whose purses are the stronger Our bridge the falling-sicknesse hath For it can stand no longer And come you cruel Watermen And lend your help to 'th town ' Its you I doubt that shot the bridge And so have thrown it down What was the cause of this mischance There is a great confusion I saw by the water that he was Of a Crazy constitution Some say the enlarging of the streames Strook up the bridges heels It was to much strong water sure That made him drunk and reale And some do say he fell because His feet had no good landing I rather think the block head fell For want of understanding Although our Country suffer losse And at this downfal grudges It was the upstart-sluce that put Our aged bridge to 's Crutches The Lords will have it built again Much longer then the other Introth I think it will be long Ere we have such another But who shall build this stately peice There 's no man can suppose The Dutch man doubts the Lords do mean To make a bridge of 's noses And some doe say that Master Day Will give to it ten pound But he reply'd by 〈◊〉 they lyed He had rather see them drown'd But let not Wisbech be dismaid Nor at this losse complain For though our bridge a Bankrupt be We 'll set him up Again T. R. Vpon the fall of the Miter in Cambridge LAment Lament you schollers all Each wear his blackest gowne The Miter that upheld your wits Is now it selfe fallen down The dismal fire on London bridge Can move no heart of mine For that but ore the water stood But this stood ore the Wine It needs must melt each Chirstians heart That this sad newes but hears To see how the poor hogs heads wept Good Sack and Claret teares The zealous students of that place Change of Religion fear That this mischance may soon bring in The Heresie of Beer Vnhappy Miter I would know The cause of thy sad hap Was it for making leggs to low To Pembrokes Cardinals cap Then know thy self cringe no more Since Popery went down That cap should vaile to thee for now The Miter's next the Crown Or was 't because our company Did not frequent the Cell As we were wont to drown these cares Thou fox'd thy self and fell No sure the Devil was adry And caus'd this fatal blow T was he that made this Celler sink That he might drink below And some do say the Devil did it Cause he would drink up all I rather think the Pope was drunk And let his Miter fall Poor Commoners to your great disgrace Your want of skill acknowledge To let a Tavern fall that stood o th walls of your own Colledge Rose now withers Falcon moults White Sam enjoyes his wishes The Dolphin now must cast his Crown Wine was not made for fishes This sign a Tavern best becomes To shew who loves it best The Miter is the onely signe For 't is the Schollers Crest Thou Sam drink Sack and cheer thy selfe Be not dismai'd at all For we will drink it up again Though we do catch the fall Wee l be thy workmen day and night In spite of Bug bear Proctors We drank like Freshmen all before But now wee 'll drink like Doctors T. R. A match at Cock-fighting GOe you same Gallants you that have the name And would accounted be cocks of the game That have brave spurs to shew for 't and can crow And count al dunghil breed that cannot shew vice Such painted plumes as yours that think no Coy cock-like lust to tread your cockatrice you be Though Peacocks Woodkocks Weathercoks If y'aer no fighting cocks y' are not for me I of two feathered combatants will write He that to 'th life means to express their fight Must make his Ink their blood which they did spill And from his dying wings borrow his quill No sooner was the doubtful people set The match's made and all that would had bet But straight the skilful Judges of the play Bring forth their sharpe-heeld warriours and they Were both in linnen bags as if 't was meet Before their day to have had their winding sheet With that 'i th pitt they 're
The stupid Lovers braines inherits Nought but dull and empty dreames Thinke not then those dismall trances With our raptures can contend The Lad that laughs and sings and dances May come sooner to his end Sadnesse may some pitty move Mirth and Courage vanquish Love 3. Fye then on that cloudy fore-head Ope those vainly crossed armes You may as well call back the buried As raise Love by such dull charmes Sacrifice a Glasse of Claret To each letter of her name Gods themselves descended for it Mortalls must doe more the same If she come not in that flood Sleep will come and that 's as good An Answer 1. CAst that Ivy-Garland from thee Leave it for some ruder blade Venus Wreathes will best become me Not of blazing Bacchus made When my high flown soule ascended To Loves bright and warmer sphear Whilst with Chaplets I 'me attended Then an Ivy bush shall weare Sober Lovers some may prove Mortalls tipple mortalls tipple Gods doe love 2. Welcome merry melancholly Fancying beauties quicking beames Boone Companions will though jolly Shrink in over wetting streames Think not that these ranting humours May with modesty contend Lesser love toyes often doe more When they come unto their end Purenesse may some pitty move Sober carriage charme a Love 3. Offer up a yoke of kisses To the Lady you adore Jove for such a blisse as this is Would come downe as heretofore If this way she can't be had Drinking comes and that 's as bad A Song 1. NO mans love fiery passions can approve As either yeilding pleasure promotion I like of milde and luke-warme zeale in Love Although I doe not like it in devotion 2. For it hath no coherence in my Creed To thinke that Lovers doe as they pretend If all that say they dye had died indeed Sure long e're this the world had had an end 3. Besides we need not love unlesse we please No destiny can force mans disposition And how can any dye of that disease Whereof himselfe may be his own Physitian 4. Some one perhaps with long Consumption dry'd And after falling into Love may dye But I dare pawn my life he nere had died Had he been halfe so sound at heart as I. 5. Another rather then incur the slander Of true Apostate will false Martyr prove But I am neither Orpheus nor Leander I 'le neither hang nor drown my selfe for love 6. Yet I have been a Lover by report And dyed for love as many others doe But thanks to Jove it was in such a sort That I reviv'd within an houre or two 7. Thus have I liv'd thus have I lov'd till now And know no reason to repent me yet And whosoever otherwise shall doe His courage is as little as his wit A SONG 1. DEare Castodoris let me rise Aurora'gins to jeer me And say that I doe wantonize I prethee sweet lye neer me 2. Let Red Aurora blush my deare And Phoebus laughing follow Thou onely art Aurora here Let me be thine Apollo 3. It is to envy at thy blisse That they doe rise before us Is there such hurt in this or this Nay aye why Castodorus 4. What Arabella can one night Of wanton dalliance try you I could be ever if I might One houre let me desire you 5. Nay fye you hurt me let me goe If you so roughly use me What can I say or thinke of you I prethee sweet excuse me 6. Thy Beauty and thy Love defend I should ungently move thee 'T is blysses sweet that I intend Is it not I that love thee 7. I doe confesse it is but then Since you doe so importune That I should once lye down agen Vouchsafe to draw the Curtaine 8. Aurora and Apollo too May visit silent fields By our consent they nere shall know What blisse our plesaure yeelds A Song 1. BEauty and Love once fell at odds And thus reviled each other Quoth Love I am one of the Gods And thou wait'st on my Mother Thou hast no power on Men at all But what I gave to thee Nor art thou longer faire or sweet Then men acknowledge thee 2. Away fond Boy then Beauty said We know that thou art blinde And men have judging eyes and can My graces better finde 'T was I begat thee all mortalls know And call'd thee blind desire I made thy Quiver and thy Bow And wings to fan the fire 3. Love straight in anger fled away And thus to Vulcan pray'd That he would dip his Shafts To punish this poor Maid So beauty ever since hath been But counted for an Whore To love a day were now a sinne ' Gainst Cupid and his power A North Countrey Song 1. WHen I'se came first to London Town I wor a Novice as other men are I thought the King had liv'd at the Crown And the way to'l Heaven had been through the Starre 2. I se set up my Horse and Ise went to Pouls Good Lord quo I what a Kirk been here Then did Ise sweare by all Kerson souls It wor a mile long or very near 3. It wor as high as any Hill A Hill quo I nay as a Mountaine Then went Ise up with a very good will But glad wor I to come down again 4. For as I went up my head roe round Then be it known to all Kerson people A man is no little way fro the ground When he 's o' th top of all Poles steeple 5. I se laid down my Hot and Ise went to pray But wor not this a most piteous case Afore I had don it wor stolne away who 'd have thought theevs had been in that place 6. Now for mine Hot Ise made great moan A stander by unto me said Thou didst not observe the Scripture aright For thou mun a watcht as well as a pray'd 7 Forth thence Ise went and I saw my Lord Major Good lack what a sight was there to see My Lord and his Horse were both of a haire I could not tell which the Mare should be 8. From thence to Westminster I went Where many a brave Lawyer I did see Some of them had a bad intent For there my purse was stolne from me 9. To see the Tombes was my desire I went with many brave fellowes store I gave them a penny that was their hire And he 's but a foole that will give any more 10. Then through the roomes the fellow me led Where all the sights were to be seen And snuffling told me through the nose What formerly the name of the those had been 11. Here lyes quoth he Henry the third Thou ly'st like a Knave he sayes never a word And here lies Richard the second inter'd And here 's stands good King Edwards sword 12. Under this Chair lyes Jacobs stone The very same stone lies under the Chaire A very good jest had Jacob but one How got he so many Sons without a paire 13. I staid not there but down with the Tide I made great hast and I went my