his ears With an old pair of boots drawn on without hose Stuft full of old linnen rags and broken out at toes It was c. VVith an old pasport that never was read VVhich in his great old travels had stood him in good stead VVith an old Quean to lie by his side VVhich in her time had been oldly Frenchified It was the Queens c. VVith an old shirt that is grown to wrack That with long-wearing it serves stinking old Jack VVith an old grown lowse with a black-list on his back That was able to carry an old pedler and his pack It was the Queens c. VVith an old snap-sack made of a good calves skin VVith an old Leathern skrip tyed fast with an old cloak-bag string VVith an old Cap with a hole i' th' Crown One side pind up and the other hanging down It was c. VVith an old greasie bufft Jerkin pointed down before That his old great grandfather at the siege at Bullin had wore VVith an old pair of breeches with a patch upon each knee VVith two over-worn old pockets that will hold no money It was the Queens c. VVith an old horse late come from St. Albons VVith I know not how many diseases most grievous ones VVith an old pair of rusty Iron spurs VVith an old beat-begger in his hand to keep off the Curs It was c. This souldier would ride post to Bohemia to his foes And swore by his valour e're he came again would get better cloaths Or else he would lose both fingers hands and toes But when he takes this journey there 's no man living knows It was c. Another IN Lancashire where I was born And many a Cuckold bred I had not been marryed a quarter of a year But the hornes grew out of my head With hey the Io bent with hey the toe bent Sir Percy is under the Line God save the good Earl of Shrewsbury For he is a good friend of mine Doncaster Mayor he sits in a chair His mills they merrily go His nose doth shine with drinking of wine The Gout is in his great toe He that will fish for a Lancashire lasse At any time or tyde Must bait his hook with a good egge pie And an apple with a red-side He that gallops his horse on Bletstone edge By chance may catch a fall My Lord Mount Eagles Bears be dead His Jack-an-Apes and all At Scripton in Craven there 's never a haven Yet many a time foul weather He that will not lie a fair woman by I wish he were hang'd in leather My Lady hath lost her left leg hose So hath She done both her shoone Shee 'l earn her break-fast before she do rise Shee 'l lie in bed else till it be noon Ioan Moultons crosse it makes no force Though many a Cuckold go by Let many a man do all that he can Yet a Cuckold he shall die The good wife of the Swan hath a leg like a man Full well it becomes her hose She jets it apace with a very good grace But falleth back at the first close The Prior of Courtree made a great pudding-pie His Monkes cryed meat for a King If the Abbot of Chester do die before Easter Then Banbury Bells must Ring He that will a welch-man catch Must watch when the wind is in the South And put in a net a good piece of roast-cheese And hang it close to his mouth And Lancashire if thou be true As ever thou hast been Go sell thy old whittel and by thee a new fiddle And sing God save the Queen Towl the Bell. TOwl towl gentle Bell for a soul Killing care doth controul and my mind so oppress That I fear I shall die for a glance of that eye That so lately did fly like a Comet from the skie Or some great Deity But my wish is in vain I shall ne're see 't again When I in the Temple did spie This Divine Purity on her knees to her Saint Oh she look't so divine all her beauties did shine Far more fairer then her shrine faith I wish she had been mine Where my heart could resign And would powerfully prove no Religion like love Fair fair and as chast as the aire Holy Nuns breathing prayer was this Votress divine From each eye dropt a tear like the Pearles Violets were When the spring doth appear for to usher in the year But I dare safely swear Those teares trickle down for no sins of her own But now increaseth my woe I by no means must know where this beauty doth dwell All her rites being done to her Lady and her Son I was left all alone and my Saint was from me gone And to heaven she is flown Which makes me to say I shall scarce live a day Now I will make haste and die And ascend to the skie where I know shee 's inthron'd All ye Ladies adieu be your loves false or true I am going to view one that far transcends all you One that I never knew But must sigh out my breath for acquaintance in death The Answer to Towl RIng Ring merry Bells while we sing Drinking healths to our King And our minds are advanc't Le ts never fear to die till we have drunk out each eye But let cash and cares fly free as hail-stones from the skie Baccus great Deity Let us never wish in vain fill the pots George again When we in the Tavern do see Such fare boon Company On their knees drinking healths O we look most divine when our noses did shine Well ballast with good wine faith I wish the cup were mine VVhich to thee I 'le resign And will palpable prove by the drinking to thy Love Free free as the air let us be VVee 'l respect no degree But our births all a like From no eye drop a tear least you Maudlin appear And next morning do fear to be Physick't with small Beer VVhich I dare boldly swear If tears trickle down 't is our loves to the Crown Now we must make haste and see How much money will free All our hands from the bar For a time boyes adien I am going for to view VVhat belongs to all you be the reckoning false or true Though it be more then dew Yet my breath will I spend and my purse for my friend The jolly Shepherd THe life of a Shepherd is void of all care-a With his bag and his bottle he maketh good fare-a He rusâ—les he shusfles in all extreme wind-a His flocks sometimes before him and sometimes behind-a He hath the green medows to walk at his will-a With a pair of fine bag-pipes upon the green hill-a Trang-dille trang-dille trang down a down dilla With a pair of fine bag-pipes upon a green hill-a His sheep round about him do seed on the dale-a His bag full of cake-bread his boâ—tle of ale-a A cantle of cheese that is good and old-a Because that he walketh all day in the cold-a VVith his cloak
For to defend her mouse-traps Mounted on her Kifflebagh With coot store of Koradagh The Pritish war begins With a hook her was over come her Pluck her to her thrust her from her By cot her was preak her shins Let Taâ—â—y fret And welch-hook whet And troop up pettigrees We only tout Tey will stink us out Wit Leeks and toasted Sheeze 7. But Iockie now and Iinny comes Our Brethren must approve on 't For pret a Cot dey beat der drums Onely to break de Couvenant Dey bore Saint Andrew's Crosse Till our army quite did rout dem But when we put um to de losse De deal a Crosse about dem The King and Couvenant they crave Their cause must needs be further'd Although so many Kings they have Most barbarously basely murther'd 8. The French The French-man he will give consent Though he trickle in our veins That willingly VVe may agree To a marriage with grapes and graines He conquers us with kindness And doth so far entrench That fair and wise and young and rich Are finified by the French He prettifies us with Feathers and Fans VVith Petticoats Doublets and Hose And faith they shall Be welcome all If they forbear the nose For love or for fear Let Nations forbear If fortune exhibit a Crown A coward he Must surely be That will not put it on To his Mistresse denying him to lie with her HAte me dear soul say no more you love If I must onely know what is above To kiss your lips and hands these be but toys And torments to a Lover and not joyes I hate the wanton folly of a kisse If not a passage to a further blisse Men do seek mines in women and if so You must give leave to them to dig below The barren face of earth since natures arts Hath hid such treasures in the lower parts Why you so coy youl 'd fain be marryed Before that you would lose your maidenhead Then may I claim it as my right and due The Law doth give it me it is not you If you would have your kindness to be shown Bestow it freely while it is your own Upon a Christmas Dinner in a Prison HOld hoops and hinges burst not I beseech Your ribs with laughing at my hungry speech Hold fast be sure with both your hands for fear Your sides should burst and spoile your hungry chear Listen you Plum-broth Bolchins to the fate Of a distressed prisoner you that sate And lade your gorgeous mawes with stately chines And lusty gamones while poor virtue pines Feeding on nothing but thin contemplation And barren thoughts pity the sad relation Of the cold feast I kept on Christmas last More justly may I call 't a solemn fast When all your mouths in an united motion At meat walk'd faster then at your devotion Of morning prayers I unthought of lay In a dark sullen Chamber where the day Seem'd but a clear night nor could I get To satisfie poor nature one small bit It would have turn'd the stomack of a cook With grief to see how piteous I did look The little animals did skip and trice About my musty Cell there yelped mice Alas thought they will no one us befriend So much as with a Christmas Candles end Well fare the Chandlers wife and may she bear Each year a Chub we pray thee nature where The mid-wife 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 and for my part I could have eaten them with all my heart I wish'd my self a prisoner in the Tower For its allowance sake for half an hour A Judges tongue sopt in his greasie hand Had been the choicest morsell in the Land The picking of his teeth too had been rare But that so often lick'd with lyes they are A tender Couâ—tier though scarce sound withall I could have swallowed up cloaths legs and all But for a fear grant pumpt and storm and wind This roguish bit I 'de eat and had combin'd His carcasse still and swallowed whole the evil Sending his soul the back-way to the devil I do believe such was my hungers force I could have eaten my L. Mayors great horse Thus well-nigh famish'd with conceit I lay Striving to sleep and so forget the day But I no sooner half asleep could be But straight my entrails crok'd and waken'd me Silence quoth I you chimes of Christmas noon And be content to fast with me till soon It may be we shall sup if not I 'le fill My belly with a dream good guts be still But fortune unexpected to prevent Despair afforded me a limb of Lent Sure she had strange reason in preferring Before all meats a reverent red Hering I 'm loath to tell thee plainly what it was For fear your mouth should water as you pass And wrong this harmless paper by its side Lay a neglected crust forth roughly dry'd That it had been sometimes miâ—â—ook by one That rub'd his boots with 't for a pumy stone Hard fare be witness heaven and my jawes That ak'd and bled most freely through the flawes The crust had made upon my tender gums It scowr'd I thought 't was sand not white bread crums This if you will believe a virtuous sinner VVas my best fare for my last Christmas dinner 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 An Amorous Catch 1. I See how unregarded now That piece of beauty passes There was a time when I did vow To thee alone but mark the fate of faces That red and white works now no more on me Then if it could not charm or I not see 2. And yet the face continues good And I have still desires And still the self-same flesh and bloud As apt to melt and suffer from those fires O some kind power unriddle where it lies VVhether my heart be faulty or her eyes 3. She every day her man doth kill And I as often die Neither her power nor my will VVhere lies the mystery Sure beauties Empire like to other states Hath certain Periods set and hidden fates Another 1. BOast not blind boy that I 'me thy prize 'T was not thy dart But those that feather'd with her eyes First strook my heart Thy ill-tutor'd shaft and childish Bow On faintly loving hearts bestow 2. I vaunt my flames and dare defie Those bug-bear fires That onely serve to terrifie Fools fond desires Hold up to such thy painted flame As tremble when they hear thy name 3. My breast no fire nor dart could pierce But holy flashes Swifter then lightning and more fierce Burnt mine to ashes Come let them sleep in unknown rest Since fate decreed their Urn her brest 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Or the Man-hater 1. I Can love for an hour
give a man Rostmeat and beat him with Spitt Which nobody can deny Another Proverb does seldome faile When you meet with naughty beere or ale You cry it is as dead as a dore nayle Which nobody can deny If you stick to one when fortunes wheele Doth make him many losses feele We say such a friend is as true as steele Which nobody can deny Ther 's one that 's in the Blacksmith's books And from him alone for remedy looks And that is he that is off o' th hooks Which no body can deny Ther 's ner ' a slut if filth over-smutch her But owes to the Blacksmith for her leatcher For without a payr of tongues no man will touch her Which no body can deny There is a Law in merry England â—n which the Smith has some command When any one is burnt in the hand Which no body can deny Banbury ale a half-yard-pott The Devil a Tinker dares stand to 't If once the tost be hizzing-hot Which no body can deny If any Taylor has the itch Your Blacksmith's water as black as pitch Will make his fingers go thorow-stich Which no body can deny A Sullen-woman needs no leech Your Blacksmiths Bellowes restores her speech And will fetch her again with wind in her breech Which no body can deny Your snuffling Puritans do surmise That without the Blacksmiths mysteries St. Peter had never gotten his Keyes Which no body can deny And further more there are of those That without the Blacksmiths help do suppose St. Dunstan had never tane the Divel by the nose Which nobody can deny And though they are so rigid and nice And rayle against Drabs and drink and dice Yet they do allow the Black Smiths vice Which nobody can deny Now when so many Haeresies fly about And every sect growns more in doubt The Black Smith he is a hamering it out Which nobody can deny Though Serjants at law grow richer far And with long pleading a good cause can marrâ— Yet your Black Smiths take more pains at thâ— Barr Which nobody can deny And though he has no commander's look Nor can brag of those he hath slain and took Yet he is as good as ever strooke Which nobody dan deny For though he does lay on many a blow It ruines neither friend nor foe Would our plundring-souldiers had done so Which every one can deny Though Bankrupts lye lurking in their holes And laugh at their Creditors and catchpoles Yet your Smith can fetch 'em over the coales Which nobody can deny Our lawes do punish severely still Such as counterfit deed bond or bill But your Smith may freely forge what he wilâ— Which nobody can deny To be a Jockey is thought a fine feat As to traine up a horse and prescribe him his meat Yet your Smith knowes best to give a heat Which nobody can deny The Roring-Boy who every one quailes And swaggers drinks and sweares and railes Could yet never make the Smith eat his nailes Which nobody can deny Then if to know him men did desire They would not scorn him but ranck him higher â—or what he gets is out of the fire Which nobody can deny â—hough Ulysses himself has gon many miles And in the warre has all the craft the wiles â—et your Smith can sooner double his files Which nobody can deny â—â—yst thou so quoth Ulysses and then he did call â—or wine to drinke to the Black-Smiths all And he vowed it should go round as a Ball Which no body should deny â—nd cause he had such pleasure t'ane â—t this honest fidlers merry straine â—e gave him the Horse-Shoe in Drury-lane Which nobody can deny Where his posterity ever since â—re ready with wine both Spanish and French â—or those that can bring in another Clench Which nobody can deny The Song being done they drank the health they rose They wo'd in verse and went to bed in prose Loyalty confin'd BEat on proud Billowes Boreas Blow Swell curled Waves high as Iove's roof Your incivility doth shew That innocence is tempest proof Though surely Nereus frown my thoughts arâ— calme Then strike affliction for thy wounds are balm That which the world miscalls a Goale A private Closet is to me Whilst a good Conscience is my Baile And innocence my Liberty Locks Barres and solitude together met Make me no Prisoner but an Anchorit I whil'st I wish'd to be retir'd Into this private room was turn'd As if their wisdomes had conspir'd The Salamander should be burn'd Or like those sophies who would drown a Fish So I 'me condemn'd to suffer what I wish The Cynick hugs his poverty The Pelican her wilderness And 't is the Indians pride to be Naked on frozen Caucasus Contentment cannot smart Stoicks we see Make torments easie to their Apathy â—hese Menacles upon my Arm â—as my Mistris's favours weare â—nd for to keep my Ankles warme â—have some Iron Shackles there These walls are but my Garrison this Cell Which men call Goal doth prove my Cittadel So he that strook at Iasons life â—hinking he had his purpose sure â—y a malitious friendly knife â—id only wound him to a cure Malice I see wants wit for what is meant Mischief oft-times proves favour by th' event â—m in this Cabinet lockt up â—ike some hig-prized Margaret â—r like some great Mogul or Pope â—re cloystered up from publick sight Retirement is a piece of Majesty And thus proud Sultan I 'me as great as thee â—ere sin for want of food must starve Where tempting objects are not seen â—nd these strong Walls do only serve â—o keep Vice out and keep me in Malice of late's growne charitable sure I 'me not Committed but I 'm kept secure When once my Prince affliction hath Prosperity doth Treason seem And for to smooth so rough a Path I can learn Patience from him Now not to suffer shews no Loyal heart When Kings want ease Subjects must learn 〈◊〉 smaâ— Have you not seen the Nightingale A Pilgrim koopt into a Cage How doth she chant her wonted tale In that her narrow hermitage Even then her charming melody doth prove That all her boughs are trees her Cage a groâ— My soul is free as the ambient aire Although my baser part 's immur'd Whilest Loyal thoughts do still repair 'T accompany my Solitude And though immur'd yet I can chirp and sing Disgrace to Rebels is glory to my King What though I cannot see my King Neither in his Person or his Coyne Yet contemplation is a thing That renders what I have not mine My King from me what Adamant can part Whom I weare engraven on my heart I am that Bird whom they combine Thus to deprive of Liberty But though they do my Corps confine Yet maugre hate my soul is free Although Rebellion do my body bind My King can only captivate my mind A SONG THe Pangs of Love growes sore growes sore And so mine one Lady told me I loved a bonny lass well Well and she hath forsaken
forehead wondrous low 6. Her squinting staring gogling eyes Poor Children doe affright Her nose is of the sarasens size Oh she 's a matchless wight 7. Her Oven-mouth wide open stands And teeth like rotten pease Her Swan-like neck my heart commands And brests all bit with Fleas 8. Her tawny dugs like too great hills Hang Sow-like to her wast Her body huge like two wind-mills And yet she 's wondrous chast 9. Her shoulders of so large a breadth Shee 'd make an excellent Porter And yet her belly caries most If any man could sort her 10. No Shoulder of Mutton like her hand For broadness thick and fat With a pocky Mange upon her wrist Oh Iove how love I that 11. Her belly Tun-like to behold Her bush doth all excel The thing that by all men extol'd Is wider then a well 12. Her brawny buttocks plump and round Much like a Horse of Warre With speckled thighs scab'd and Scarce sound Her knees like bakers are 13. Her leggs are like the Elephants The Calfe and small both one Her anckles they together meet And still knock bone to bone 14. Her pretty feet not 'bove fifteens So splay'd as never was An excellent Usher for a man That walks the dewy grass 15. Thus have you heard my Mistriss prais'd And yet no flattery us'd Pray tell me is she not of worth Let her not be abus'd 16. If any to her have a minde He doth me woundrous wrong For as she 's Beautious so she 's Chast And thus conclude my Song A SONG 1. WHen yong folkes first begin to love And undergoe that tedious taske It cuts and scowres throughout the powers Much like a running glass 2. It is so full of sodain joyes Proceeding from the Heart So many tricks and So many toyes And all not worth a Fart 3. For Venus loved Vulcan Yet she would lye with Mars If these be honest tricks my love Sweet love come kisse mine 4 If that which I have writ Be unmannerly in speech Yet when occasion serves to shite Will serve to wipe your breech 5. Thus kindly and in Courtesie These few lines I have written And now O love come kiss mine For I am all beshitten A Song of the Sea-men and Land-souldiers 1. WE Sea-men are the bony-boyes That feare no stormes nor Rocks Whose Musick is the Cannons nose Whose sporting is with knocks a. 2. Mars has no Children of his own But we that fight on Land a Land-Souldiers Kingdomes up have blown Yet they unshaken stand a. 3. 'T is brave to see a tall Ship saile With all her trim gear on a. As though the Devill were in her taile She fore the wind will run a. 4. Our maine battalia when it moves Ther 's no such glorious thing a Where leaders like so many Ioves Abroad their thunder fling a. 5. Come let us reckon what Ships are ours The Gorgon and the Dragon The Lyon that in fight is bold The Bull with bloody flag on 6. Come let us reckon what works are ours Forts Bulwarks Barricadoes Mounts Gabions Parrapits Countermurs Casemates and Pallisadoes 7. The Bear the Dog the Fox the Kite That stood fast on the Rover They chas'd the Turke in a day and night From Scandaroon to Dover 8. Field-pieces Muskets Groves of Pikes Carbines and Canoneers a Squadrons half Moons with Rankes and Files And Fronts and Vans and Reers a. 9. A Health to brave Land-Souldiers all Let Cans a piece goe round a Pell-mell let 's to the Battaile fall And lofty muâ—ick sound a. A Song MY dear and onely love take heed How thou thy self expose And let no longing Lovers feed On such like looks as those I 'le Marble wall thee round about Being built without a door But if my love do once break out I 'le never love thee more Nor let their Oaths by volleys shot Make any breach at all Nor smoothness of ther language plot Away to scale the wall Nor balls of Wilde-fire Love consume The shrine that I adore For if such smoak about thee fume I 'le never love thee more Thy wishes are as yet too strong To suffer by surprize and victed with my love so long Of force the siege must rise And leave thee in the strength of health And state thou wert before But if thou prove a common-wealth I 'le never love thee more Or if by fraud or by consent My heart to ruine come I 'le ne'r sound Trumpet as I meant Nor march by beat of Drum But fould mine Armes like Ensignes up Thy falshood to deplore And after such a bitter cup I 'le never love thee more Then doe by thee as Nero did When Rome was set on fire Not onely all reliefe forbid But to a hill retire And scorne to shed a teare to save Such spirits grown so poor But laugh and sing thee to thy grave And never love thee more A SONG 1. WHen Phoebus address'd his course to the West And took up his rest below And Cynthia agreed in a glittering weed Her light in his stead to bestow Travel'd alone attended by none Till sodainly I heard one cry Oh doe not doe not kill me yet For I am not prepared to dye 2. With that I came nere to see and to hear And there did appeare a show The Moon was so bright I saw such a sight Not fit that each wight should know A Man and a Maid together were laid And ever she cry'd Oh fie Oh doe not doe not kill me yet For I am not prepared to dye 3. The young man was rough and he took up heâ— stuffe And to blind man buffe he would go Yet still she did cry but still she did lye And put him but by with a no But she was so young and he was so strong Which made her still to cry Oh doe not doe not kill me For I am not prepared to dye 4. With that he gave o're and swore solemnly He would kill her no more that night He bid her adue for little he knew She would tempt him to more delight But being to depart it grieved her heart Which made her loud to cry Oh kill me kill me once again For now I am prepared to dye A SONG I Courted a Lasse my folly was the cause of her disdaining I courted her thus what shall I sweet Dolly doe for thy dear loves obteining But another had dallied with this my Dolly that Dolly for all her faining Had got such a Mountain above her Valley that Dolly went home complaining Upon my Lord Majors day being put off by reason of the Plague IF you 'l but here me I shall tell A sad mischance that late befel for which the daies of old â—n all new Almanacks must mourn And Babes that never must be born shall weep to hear it told For loe the sport of that great day â—n which the Major hath leave to play and with him all the town His Flag and drum and Fife releas'd And he forbid to goe a
my Creed To think that Lovers do 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 unless we please No destiny can force mans disposition And how can any dye of that disease Whereof himself 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 half so sound at heart as I. 5. Another rather then incur the slander Oâ— true Apostate will false Martyr prove But I am neither Orpheus nor Leander He neither hang nor drown my self for love 6. Yet I have been a Lover by report And died for Love as many others do But thanks to Iove is was in such a sort That I reviv'd within an hour 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 do 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 do wantonize I prethee sweet lye neer me 2. Let Red Aurora blush my deare And Phoebus laughing follow Thou only art Aurora here Let me be thine Apollo 3. It is to envy at thy bliss That they do rise before us Is there such hurt in this or this Nay aye why Castadoris 4. What Arabella can one night Of wanton dalliance try you I could be ever if I might One hour let me desire you 5. Nay fie you hurt me let me go If you so roughly use me What can I say or think of you I prethee sweet excuse me 6. Thy Beauty and thy Love defend I should ungently move thee 'T is blisses sweet that I intend It is not I that love thee 7. I do confess it is but then Since you do so importune That I should once lie down agen Vouchsafe to draw the Curâ—aine 8. Aurora and Apollo too May visit silent fields By our consent they nere shall know What bliss our pleasure yeilds 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 Ise did 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 lay down my hot and Ise went to pray But wor not this a most pitious case Afore I had don it wor stolen away who 'd have thought theevs had been in that place 6. Now for my 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 purss 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 fool 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 those had been 11. Here lyes quoth he Henry the third Thou ly'st like a knave he saies never a word And here lies Richard the second inter'd And here 's stands good King Edwards Sword 12. Under this Chair lyes Iacobs stone The very same stone lyes under the Chaire A very good jest had Iacob 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 way For I was to see the Lions beside And the Parris-garden all in a day 14. When Ise came there I was in a rage I rayl'd on him that kept the Beares Instead of a Stake was suffered a Stage And in Hunkes his house a crue of Players 15. Then through the Brigg to the Tower Ise went With much adoe Ise entred in And after a peny that I had spent One with a loud voice did thus begin 16. This Lion's the Kings and that is the Queens And this is the Princes that stands hereby With that I went neer to look in the Den. Cods body quoth he why come you so nigh 17. I se made great hast unto my Inne I supt and I went to bed betimes Ise slept and Ise dream't what I had seen And wak't again by Cheapside Chimes Several complexions SHall I woe thee lovely Molly She is fair fat fine and Jolly â—t she hath a trick of folly â—herefore I le have none of Molly â—o no no no no no I 'le have none of Molly â—o no no no no. â—hat say you to pritty Betty â—ave you seen a Lass more pretty â—ut her browes are alwaies swetty â—herefore I 'le have none of Betty no no. When I wooed the lovely Dolly â—hen she streight growes melancholly â— that wench is pestilent holy â—herefore I 'le have none of Dolly no no. When I kist my lovely Franckey â—he makes curchie and saies I thankey But her breath is to to rankey Therefore I 'le none of Frankey no no. â— commend brave minded Barby Shee 'l stand me strike or stabby But her wrists are alwaies Scabby Therefore I will have none of Barby no no. What say you to pretty Benny She thinks good silver is her penny For want of use she is senny Therefore I will have none of Benny no no. I could fancy pritty Nanny But she has the love of many And her self will not love any Therefore I will have none of Nanny no no. In a flax house I saw Rachel As she her flax and tow did hachel But her cheeks hunge like a Sachel Therefore I 'le have none of Rachel no no. When I met with lovely Nally I was bold with her to dally She lay down ere I said shally Therefore I 'l have none of Nally no no. O the Cherry lippes of Nelly They are smooth soft sweet as jelly But she has too big a belly Therefor I 'le have none of Nelly no no. Shall I court the lovely Siby For she can finely dance the fy by