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
But goes and steales her from her Husband wherefore The Graecians took their tooles and fighted therefore And that you may perceive they were stout Signiors The Combat lasted for the space of ten years This Gallant bideing where full many a Mother Is oft bereav'd of Child Sister of Brother His Lady greatly longing for his presence Writ him a Letter whereof this the Sence My prety Duck my pigsnie my Ulysses Thy poor Penelope sends a thousand Kisses As to her only Ioy a hearty greeting Wishing thy company but not thy meeting With enemies and fiery spirits in Armour And which perchance may do thy body harme-or May take thee Prisoner and clap on thee bolts And locks upon thy legges such as weare Colts But send me word and er'e that thou want Ransome Being a man so comely and so handsome I l'e sell my Smock both from my back and belly E're you want mony meat or Cloathes I tell yee When that Ulysses all in greif enveloped Had markt how right this Letter was Peneloped Laid one hand on his heart and said 't was guilty Resting the other on his Dagger-hilty Thus gan to speak O thou that dost controule All beauties else thou hath so bang'd my soul With thy lamentation that I swear I love thee strangely without wit or fear I could have wish'd quoth he my self the Paper Ink Standish Sandbox or the burning Taper That were the Instruments of this thy writing Or else the stool whereon thou sat'st inditing And so might have bin neer that lovely breech That never yet was troubled with the Itch. And with the thought of that his Sorrow doubled His heart with wo was so Cuff'd and Cornubled That he approv'd one of his Ladyes Verses The which my Author in his book rehearses 'T is true quoth he Loves troubles make me tamer Res est Soliciti plena timoris Amor. This said he blam'd himself and chid his folly For being so ore-rul'd with mellancholly He call'd himself Fool Coxecombe Asse and Fop And many a scurvy name he reckon'd up But to himself this language was too rough For certainly the man had wit enough For he resolves to leave his Trojan foes And go to see his love in his best Cloaths But marke how he was cross'd in his intent His friends suspected him incontinent And some of them suppos'd he was in love Because his eyes all in his head did move Or more or less then used I know not which But I am sure they did not move so mich As they were wont to do and then 't was blasted Ulysses was in love and whilst that lasted No other newes within the Camp was spoke of And many did suppose the match was broke off But he conceal'd himself nor was or'e hasty To shift his Cloathes though now grown somewhat nasty But having wash'd his hands in Pewter Bason Determins for to get a Girle or a Son On fair Penelope for he look'd trimmer Then yong Leander when he learn'd his Primer To Graece he wends apace for all his hope Was only now to to see fair Penelope She kemb'd her head and wash'd her face in Creame And pinch'd her cheeks to make the red blood stream She don'd new Cloaths and sent the old ones packing And had her shoes rub'd over with Lamp blacking Her new rebato and a falling band And Rings with several posies on her hand A stomacher upon her breast so bare For Strips and Gorgets was not then the weare She thus adorn'd to meet her youthful Lover Heard by a Post-boy he was new come over She then prepares a banquet very neat Yet there was not bit of Butchers meat But Pyes and Capons Rabbits Larkes and Fruit Orion an a Dolphin with his Harp And in the midst of all these dishes stood A platter of Pease-porridge woundrous good And next to that the God of Love was plac'd His Image being made of Rye-past To make that good which the old Proverb speaks The one the Heart tother the belly breaks Ulysses seeing himself a welcome Guest Resolves to have some Fidlers at the Feast And 'mongst the various consort choosing them That in their sleeves the armes of Agamem Non in the next verse wore Cry'd in a rage Sing me some Song made in the Iron Age. The Iron-Age quoth he that used to sing This to my minde the Black-Smith's Song doth bring The Black-Smiths quoth Ulysses and there holloweth Whoope is there such a Song Let 's ha 't It followeth The Black-Smith As it was sung before Ulysses and Penelope at their Feast when he returned from their Trojan Warrs collected out of Homer Virgill and Ovid by some of the Modern Family of the Fancies OF all the trades that ever I see Ther 's none with the Blacksmith compar'd may be With so many several tooles works hee Which Nobody can deny The first that ever thunderbolt made Was a Cyclops of the Black Smiths trade As in a learned author is said Which Nobody can deny When thundringly we lay about The fire like lightening flasheth out Which suddainly with water wee d'out Which Nobody can deny The fayrest Goddess in the Skies To marry with Vulcan did devise Which was a Black-smith grave and wise Which no body can deny Mulciber to do her all right Did build her a town by day and by night Which afterwards he Hammersmith hight Which no body can deny And that no Enemy might wrong her He gave her Fort she need no stronger Then is the Lane of Ironmonger Which no body can deny Vulcan farther did acquaint her That a pretty Estate he would appoint her And leave her Seacoale-lane for a joynter Which nobody can deny Smithfeild he did free from dirt And he had sure great reason for 't It stood very neare to Venus Which nobody can deny But after in good time and ride It was to the Black Smiths rectified And given'm by Edmond Ironside Which nobody can deny At last he made a Net or traine In which the God of warre was t'ane Which ever since was call'd Pauls-chaine Which nobody can deny The common Proverb as it is read That we should hit the nayle o' the head Without the Black Smith cannot be said Which nobody can deny There is another must not be forgot Which falls unto the Black Smiths lot That we should strike while the I'rons hott Which nobody can deny A third lyes in the Black Smiths way When things are safe as old-wives say They hav'em under lock and key Which nobody can deny Another Proverb makes me laugh Because the Smith can challenge but half When things are as plain as a Pike staffe Which nobody can deny But'tother half to him does belong And therefore do the Smith no wrong When one is held to it hard buckle and thong Which nobody can deny Then there is a whole one proper and fit And the Blacksmith's Iustice is seen in it When you
And your lips I can do no less hun hun But my desire can linger no more alas alas Fear not t was nothing stirrd the door t was t was Thus by degrees I climb to aspire come come An houre of bliss oh ner'e to be spent ha done ha done A SONG of his Mistress MY mistriss is a Shuttle cok Compos'd of cock and feather Each battle doth play with her dock And bang her on the leather One cannot suffice her fill But she rebounds to the other still Fa la lanke down dilly My mistress is a Tennis ball Her leather so smooth and fine Shee 's often bang'd against the wall And banded under line But he that means to win her will Must hit her in the hazard still Fa la lanke down dilly My mistress is a Nightingal So sweetly can she sing As fair as fine as Filomel A daughter for a King For in the night and darkness thick She â—ongs to leane against a prick Fa la lanke down dilly My mistress is a nettle sharp And dangerous to finger A gallant wench and full of mettle I woose shee is a stinger For if you do but touch her hips Ther 's no such liquor for your lips Fa la c. My mistress is an Owle by night All day she keeps her bed For fear she should her beauty burn And no man would her wed But be she fair or foul in sight She is as good as Hellen in the night Fa la lanke down dilly My mistress is a moon so bright Would God that I could win her She loves to be sturring in the night And keep a man within her A man that were both prick and thornes Once a month shee 'l make him were hornes Fa la lanke down Dilly My mistress is a Tobaccopipe Soon burn'd and often broke Shee carrieth fire in her brink That yieldeth forth no smoke If sâ—ee have not a clean skin Shee hath a rumy thing within Fa la lanke down dilly My mistress is a ship of warr Much shot discharged at her Her Puppe receiveth many a scarr Oft driven by winde and water Although she grapples at the last Shee sinks and striketh down the mast Fa la lanke down dilly Why should I my mistress call An instrument a bable A shuttle cock a Tenice ball A Ship of war unstabl'd Say but this and say no more Shee is a wanton and a hay ho. Fa la lanke down â—iâ—ly On Luce Morgan a Common-VVâ—ore EPIGRAM HEre lies black Luce that Pick-hatch drab Who had a word for every stab Was leacherous as any Sparrow Her Quiver ope to every arrow Wer't long or short or black or white She would be sure to noch it right Wer 't Lords or Knights or Priests or Squires Of any sort except a Friers A Friers shaft she lackt alone Because England here was none At last some Vestall fire she stole Which never went out in her hole And with that zealous fire being burn'd Vnto the Romish faith she turn'd And therein dy'd and was 't not fit For a poor whore to dye in it An Epitaph on a VVhore IN this cold Monument lies one Which I knew who hath lain upon The happier he whose sight might charm And touch might keep King David warme Lovely as is the dawning East Was this Marbles frozen guest As glorious and as bright as day As oderiferous as May. As streight and slender as the Crest Or Antler of the one beam'd Beast Whome I admired as soon as I knew And now her memory persue With such a superstitious Lust That I could fumble with her dust She all perfections had and more Tempting as if design'd an whore For so she was and some there are Whores I could wish them all as faire Courteous she was and yong and wise And in her calling so precise That industry had made her prove The sucking School-Mistress of Love But Death ambitious to become Her Pupil left his gastly home And seeing how we us'd her here The raw-bone Raskal ravish'd her Who pretty soul resign'd her breath To practice Lechery with death A mock-song 1. OH Love whose power and might No Creature ere withstood Thou forcest me to write Come turn about Robin-hood 2. Sole Mistress of my heart Let me thus farr presume To make this request A black patch for the Rhume 3. Grant pitty or I die Love so my heart bewitches With grief I houle and cry Oh how my Elbow Itches 4. Teares overflow my eyes With flouds of daily weeping That in the silent night I cannot rest for sleeping 5. What is 't I would not doe To purchase one sweet smile Bid me to China goe Faith I 'le sit still the while 6. Oh women you will never But think men still will flatter I vow I love you ever But yet it is no matter 7. Cupid is blind they say But yet methinks he seeth He struck my heart to day A Turd in Cupids teeth 8. Her Treâ—ses that were wrought Much like the golden snare My loving heart hath caught As Mosse did catch his Mare 9. But since that all reliefe And comfort doe forsake me â—'le kill my self with grief Nay then the Devill take me 10 And since her grateful merits My loving look must lack â—'le stop my vitall spirits With Claret and with Sack 11. Marke well my woful hap Iove rector of the Thunder Send down thy thunder-clap And rend her smock in sunder The Answer 1. YOur Letter I receiv'd Bedect with flourishing quarters Because you are deceiv'd Goe hang you in your Garters 2. My beauty which is none Yet such as you protest Doth make you sigh and groan Fie fie you do but jest 3. I cannot chuse but pitty Your restless mourneful teares Because your plaints are witty You may goe shake your eares 4. To purchase your delight No labour you shall leese Your pains I will requite Maid go fetch him Bread and Cheese 5. 'T is you I faine would see 'T is you I daily think on My looks as kind shall be As the Devills over Lincoln 6. If ever I do tame Great Iove of lightnings flashes I 'le send my fiery flame And burn thee into ashes 7. I can by no meanes miss thee But needs must have thee one day I prethee come and kiss me Whereon I sat on Sunday In praise of his Mistrisses beauty 1. I Have the fairest non-perel The fairest that ever was seen And had not Venus been in the way She had been beauties Queen 2. Her lovely looks her comly grace I will describe at large God Cupid put her in his books And of this Jem took charge 3. The Graecian Hellen was a Moore Compar'd to my dear Saint And fair fac'd Hyrens beauty poor And yet she doth not paint 4. Andromeda whom Perseus lov'd Was foule were she in sight Her lineaments so well approv'd In praise of her I 'le write 5. Her haire not like the golden wire But black as any Crow Her browes so beetl'd all admire Her
Feasting in his Scarlet Gown No Fife must on the Thames be seen To fright the Major and please the Queen nor any wild fire tost Though he suppose the Fleet that late Invaded us in eighty eight o're matcht by his Gally foist The Pageants and the painted cost Bestowed on them are all quite lost for now he must not ride Nor shall they sheare the Players tall Being mounted on some mighty Whale swims with him through Cheap-siâ— Guild-hal now must not entertain The Major who there would feast his brain with white broth and with Heâ— Nor shall the Fencers act their Piggs Before the Hinch-boyes which are Giggs whipt out with all the meâ—â— Nor must he go in State to swear As he was wont at Westminster no Trumpets at the Halâ— Their clamorous voices there would stretch As if the Lawyers they would teach in their own Courts to baâ—â— But what in sooth is pitty most Is for their Daughters they have lost all joyes for which they pray Which scatter palmes on their cheeks Which they had prim'd at least three weeks before against the day And 'mongst themselves they much complain That this Lord Major in first of reign should do them so much wrong As to suppress by message sad The feast for which they all have had Their March-pane dream so long Thus for their beauteous sakes have I Describ'd the daies large History 't is true although not witty Which is deny'd for I 'de be loath To cut my coat above my cloath my Subject is the City A Song by Sir John Suckling OUt upon it I have lov'd three whole daies together And perchance might love three more if that it hold fair weather Time shall melt his wing away e're he can discover In the whole wide world again such a constant lover But a pox upon 't no praise there is due at all to me Love with me had had no stay had it any been but she Had it any been but she and that very very face There had been long time e're this a dozen dozen in her place The answer by the same Author SAy but did you love so long in sooth I needâ— must blame ye Passion did your judgement wrong and want oâ— Reason shame ye Truth Times fair and witty Daughter quickly did discover You were a subject fit for laughter and more fooll then Lover Yet you needs must merit praise for your constant folly Since that you lov'd three whole daies were yoâ— not melancholly She for whom you lov'd so true and that very very face Puts each minute such as you a dozen dozen to disgrace Upon an old Scold IOve lay thy Majesty aside and wonder To hear a voice in consort with thy thunder Whilst thine with a shrill treble neatly graces The roaring clamour of her deep-mouth`d basis Yet in each point her nimble chops run on The lubrick touches of division And when her kindled thoughts her tongue inspire Instead of words like Etna she spits fire So in a word to her eternal fame Shee 'l excercise thy thunder and thy flame Old Time had pull'd her teeth out but they 'r sprung Again more sharp and active in her tongue â—n her Malignant Aspect doth appear The season of the Dog-dayes all the year With her sowre look she might convert the Sea And all the Elements to Curds and Whea On a deformed old Woman whorish whome one was pleased to call the Phoenix ARt thou the Phoenix I could rather swear Thou art Callisto chang'd into a Bear Or else thou then transformed but in part And so laid by halfe Bear halfe Woman art Or art thou Io whome adulterate Iove Long since when thou wett beautiful did love And jealous Iuno for thy crime hath now Chang'd thee into a foule mishapen Cow But thou the badge of thy disgrace now scornes And makes thy harmless Husband wear thâ— horneâ— He that can call thee Phoenix from his heart Must needs be such another as thou art Or he to sacred beauty had a spite Like those that use to paint the Devil white And calling thee the Phoenix hath out-gone All that revenge could e're think upon He had more truly spoke and might with less Despight have call'd the Devil his Holiness Should but thy picture be expos'd to sight And under it the name of Phoenix write wooâ— They that ner'e knew what meant the Phoenix Straight swear by it the Devil was understood A Gentleman on his being trim'd by a Cobler MY haire grown rude and Gally's bridgâ— broke dowâ— Which dam'd my passage to Carmarthen Town Trim'd was I I am sure but by what Monster If I describe him you will hardly Conster 'T is one whose foot is in the stirrup still Yet never rides waxes each hour more ill Yet never mends can make a bad soul better Yet no Divine nor scarce doth know a letter He 's alwaies sowing yet ne'r useth needle Put folkes i' th stocks yet is no beggars beadle fee. Mens legs he stretcheth often on a tree Yet free from th' Gallows and the Hangmans Let a Consumption some to skellitons wast He will be sure to ease'um at the last And yet is no Physitian he 's still knocking Yet breaks no peace nor need his doors unlocking He alwaies sits yet Table wants and Carpet â—ut looks like a scab'd Sheep tane from a Tarpit â—his lovely gallant with his well pitcht thumbe â—nd Leather apron on my hide did-thrumb â—nd par'd my face 't were worth the sight to have bin â—o see his oilely joynts about my chin â—armarthen Barbers be not quite dismayed â—hough Kit the Cobler undertake your trade â—Twas only done that his best friends might feel â—ow perfect he is made from head to Heel On Jack wiseman â—Ack Wiseman brags his very name Proclaimes his wit he 's much to blame â—o do the Proverb so much wrong â—hich saies he 's wise that holds his tongue â—hich makes me contradict the Schooles â—nd apt to think the wise men fooles Yet pardon Iack I hear that now Thou' rt wed and must thy wit allow That by a strange aenigma can Make a light Woman a Wiseman Love blind a Song 1. LOve blind who saies so 't is a lye I 'le not believe it no not I If Love be blind how can he then Discerne to hit the hearts of men Yet pause a while it may be true Or else hee 'd wound the womens too 2. The Females only Scape nay then The lad has got his eyes agen And yet methinks 't is strange that he should strike at randome thus and see I' th' guiding still to fix his dart And leave untoucht the stubborne heart 3 Love blind how can his darts surprize Our hearts then piercing through our eyes Unless by secret power guided Least he by us should be derided It be the little Archers minde To make us all as he is blinde The Anglers Song â—'Th ' non-age of the Morn we got up If plots had tane all night w 'had
the Ocean and set our selves free For man is the worlds Epitome The States New Coyn. 1. SAw you the States-mony new come from the Mint Some people do say it is wonderous fine And that you may read a great mystery in 't Of mighty King Nol the Lord of the Coyn. 2. They have quite omitted his politick head His worshipful face and his excellent Nose But the better to tempt the sisters to bed They have fixed upon it the print of his Hose 3. For if they had set up his picture there They needs must ha' crown'd him in Charles his stead But 't was cunningly done that they did forbear And rather would set up his Ar than his head 4. 'T is monstrous strange and yet it is true In this Reformation we should ha' such luck That Crosses were alwayes disdained by you Who before pull'd them down should now set them up 5. On this side they have circumscrib'd God with us And in this stamp and coyn they confide Common-wealth on the other by which we may guess That God and the States were not both of a side 6. On this side they have a Cross and a Harp And onely a Cross on the other set forth By which we may learn it falls to our part Two Crosses to have for one fit of mirth 7. A Country-man hearing this straight way did think That he would procure such a piece of his own And knowing it like his wifes Butter-print She should ha 't for a token when as he came home 8. Then since that this is the Parliament coyn Now Lilly by thy mysterious charms Or Heralds pray tell us if these ha' not been Carmen or Fidlers before by their Arms. The Brewer 1. OF all the trades that ever I see There 's none to the Brewer compared may be For so many several wayes works he Which no body can deny 2. A Brewer may put on a noble face And come to the wars with such a grace That he may obtain a Captains place Which no body c. 3. A Brewer may speak so learnedly well And raise strange stories for to tell That he may become a Colonel Which no body c. 4. A Brewer may be a Parliament-man For so his knavery first began And work the most cunning plots he can Which no body c. 5. A Brewer may be so bold a Hector That when he has drunk a cup of Nectar He may become a Lord Protector Which no body c. 6. A Brewer may do all these things you see Without controul nay he may be Lord-Chanceller of the University Which no body c. 7. A Brewer may sit like a Fox in his cub And preach a Lecture out of a tub And give the world a wicked rub Which no body c. 8. But here remaines the strangest thing How he about his plots did bring That he should be Emperour above a King Which no body can deny deny Which no body dares deny The disloyal Timist 1. NOw our holy wars are done Betwixt the Father and the Son And since we have by righteous fate Distrest a Monarch and his mate And first their heirs fly into France To weep out their inheritance Let 's set open all our packs Which contain ten thousand wracks Cast on the shore of the rea Sea Of Naseby and of Newbery If then you will come provided with gold We dwell Close by hell Where wee 'l fell What you will That is ill For charity waxeth cold 2. Hast thou done murther or bloud spilt We can soon get another name That will keep thee from all blame But be it still provided thus That thou hast once been one of us Gold is the God that shall pardon the guilt For we have What shall save Thee from th' grave Since the Law We can awe Although a famous Prince's bloud were spilt 3. If a Church thou hast bereft Of its Plate 't is holy-theft Or for zeal sake if thou beest Prompted on to take a thief Gold is a sure prevailing advocate Then come Bring a summe Law is dumb And submits To our wits For it 's policy guides a State The Resolute Royallist 1. WHat though the ill times Run cross to our wills And fortune still frowns upon us Our hearts are our own And shall be so still Then a fig for the plagues that light on us 2. Let 's drink t'other cup To keep our hearts up But let 't be the purest Canary For wee 'l never fear The crosses we bear Let them plague us untill they be weary 3. Wee 'l flatter and fear Those that over us are And make them believe that we love them When their timing is past We must carve them at last As they carv'd them that have been before them 4. Let the Levite go preach For his Goose and his Pig And drink wine at Christmas and Easter Let the Doctors give o're Our lives to new Trig Wee 'l make nature fast and wee 'l feast Her 5. Let the Lawyer go ball Out his Lungs and his gall For the the Plaintiffe and for the Defendant At school the schollar lies Till like Flaccus he dies With an ugly hard word at the end on 't 6. Here 's a health to the man That delights in Sol-fa For Sack is his onely Rosin A load of Hay ho Is not worth Ha ha He 's a man for my money that draws in 7. Then a pin for all muck And a fig for ill-luck 'T is better to be blithe and frollique Then to fight out our breath Or to mould our own death By the Stone the Gout or the Collique Cupid's Holy-day LAdies whose marble hearts despise Loves soft impressions whose chast eyes Nere shot a glance but might be seen Diana and her maiden teem Of Icy Virgins hence away Disturb not our licentions play For now its Cupids Holy-day Go glory in that empty name Of Virgin let your idle flame Consume it self while we enjoy Those pleasures which fair Venus boy Grant to those whose mingled thighs Are trophies of his victories From whence new pleasures still arise Those onely are admitted here Whose looser thoughts nere knew of care Of mans imbraces whose fair face Can give enjoyment such a grace As wipes away that hated name Of lust and calls their amorous flame A vertue free from fear or shame With them we 'l number kisses till We pose Arithmetick and fill Our hearts with pleasures till it swells Beyond those bounds where blushing dwells Then will we our selves intomb In those joyes which fill the womb Till sleep possesseth Cupids room At waking no repentance shall With our past sweetness mingle gall We 'l kisse again till we restore Our strength again to venture more Then we 'l renew again our play Admitting of no long delay Till that we end our Holy-day To his VVhore who askt money of him WHat is 't that fans my fancies thus So cool of late I 'm grown Methinks I 'm not so rigorous How quickly I
in a Cat-skin purse For fear the hailstones which did fall at Rome By lessening of the fault should make it worse For 't is most certain winter wool-sacks grow From geese to swans if men could keep them so Till that the sheep-shorn Planets gave the hint To pickle Pancakes in Geneva print Some men there were that did suppose the skye Was made of carbonado'd antidotes But my opinion is a whales left eye Need not be coyned all King Harry-groats The reason 's plain for Charons western barge Running a-tilt at the Subjunctive mood Beckned to Bednal-green and gave him charge To fatten Pad-locks with Antartick food The end will be the mill-pools must be laded To fish for whitepots in a countrey dance So they that suffer'd wrong and were upbraded Shall be made friends in a left-handed trance In praise of Ale WHenas the Chilly Rock once blows And winter tells a heavy tale When Pyes and Daws and Rooks and Crows Sit cursing of the frosts and snows Then give me ale Ale in Saxon Rumken then Such as will make grim Malkin prate Rouseth up valour in all men Quickens the poets wit and pen Despiseth fate Ale that the absent battle fights And frames the march of Swedish drums Disputes the Princes laws and rights And what is past and what 's to come Tells mortal wights Ale that the plow-mans heart up-keeps And equals it with Tyrants thrones That wipes the eye that over-weeps And lulls in soft and secure sleeps The weary'd bones Grandchild of Ceres Barley's daughter Wine 's emulous neighbour if but stale Ennobling all the Nymphs of water And filling each mans heart with laughter Ha ha give me ale A Riddle of a Goosberry THere is a bush fit for the nonce That beareth pricks and precious stones The fruit of which most Ladies pull 'T is round and smooth and plump and full It yields rare moisture pure and thick And seldom makes a Lady sick They put it in and then they move it Which makes it melt and then they love it So what was round and plump and hard Grows lanck and thin and poor and mar'd The sweetness suckt their holes wipe they And throw the empty skin away A Bull Prologue YOu that do sitting stand to see our Play Which must this night be acted here to day Be silent pray though you aloud do talk Stir not a foot though up and down you walk For every silent noise the Players see Will make them mute and speak full angerly But go not yet untill you do depart And unto us your smiling frownes impart And we most thankless thankful will appear And waite upon you home but yet stay here Another Prologue BE blithe Fobdodles for my author knows How to delight your eyes your ears your nose But first of all your eyes shall pleased be With cloth of Gold Tyssue and Taffare Blow but your nose and purifie that sense For you shall smell perfumes and franckincense And eke soft musick therefore sit you still Smile like the Lilly flower whilst trumpets sound And our endeavours with your love be ctown'd An Epilogue upon the honest Lawyer Gentlemen HE that wrote this Play ne'er made Play before And if this like not ne're will write Play more And so he bid me tell you Loves Progresse WHo ever loves if he do not propose The right true end of love he 's one that goes To sea for nothing but to make him sick â—nd love 's a bear-whelp born if over lick Our love and cause it new strange forms to take We erre and of a lump a monster make Were not a Calf a monsâ—et that was grown â—ac'd like a man though better then his own â—â—â—fection is in Unity so prefer â—he woman first and then one thing in her â— where I value Gold may think upon â—he purity the application The wholesomness the ingenuity From rust from soil from fire for ever free But if I love it 't is because its made By our new nature use the soul of trade All this in women we might think upon If women had them and yet love but one Can men more injure women than to say They love for that by which they are not they Makes vertue woman must I cool my bloud Till I both find and see one wise and good May barren angels love so but if we Make love to woman vertue is not she As beauty is not nor wealth he that strayes thuâ— From her to hers is more adulterous Than he that took her maid Search every sphere And firmament our Cupid is not there He 's an infernal god and under ground With Pluto dwells where gold and fire abound Men to such gods their sacrificing coals Laid not on altars but in pits and holes Although we see celestial bodies move Above the earth the earth we till and love So we her heirs contemplate words and heart And vertues but we love the centrique part Nor is the soul more worthy or more fit For love than that as infinite as it But in attaining this desired place How much they erre that set out at the face The hair a forrest is of ambushes Of springs snares fetters and manicles The brow becalms us when 't is smooth plain And when 't is wrinkled shipwrecks us again Smooth 't is a Paradise where we would have Immortal stay and wrinkled 't is our grave The nose like to the first meridian runs Not twixt an East and West but twixt two suns It leaves a cheek a rosie hemisphere On either side and then directs us where Upon the Islands fortunate we fall Not faint Canaries but ambrosial Her swelling lips to which when we are come We anchor there and think our selves at home For they sing all their Syrens songs and there Wise Delphick Oracles do fill the ear There in a creek where chosen pearls do swell The remora her cleaving tongue doth dwell Those and the promontary fair her Chin O're past and the straight Hellespont between The Sestos and Abidos of her brests Not of two lovers but two loves she nests Succeeds a boundless sea but that thine eye Some Island moles may scattered there discry And sailing towards her India in that way Shall at her fair Atlantick Navel stay Though thence the torrent be thy Pilot made Yet ere thou come where thou wouldst be imbay'd Thou shalt upon another forrest set Where many shipwreck and no farther get VVhen thou art there consider well this chace Mispent by the beginning at the face Rather set on 't below practise my art Some symitry the foot hath with that part Which thou dost seek and is as map for that Lovely enough to stoop but not stay at Least subject to disguise and change it is Men say the Devil-never can change his It is the embleme that hath figured Firmness 't is the first part that comes to bed Civility we see refin'd the kiss Which at the face begun transplanted is Since to the hand since to