And live by others giving!
I scorn to work,
But by the highway lurk,
And beg to get my living:
I'll i' the wind and weather,
And wear all ragged garments;
Yet, though I'm bare,
I'm free from care,--
A fig for high preferments!
_Therefore I'll cry, &c._
* * * *
My flesh I can so temper
That it shall seem to fester,
And look all o'er
Like a raw sore,
Whereon I stick a plaister.
With blood I daub my face then,
To feign the falling sickness,
That in every place
They pity my case,
As if it came through weakness.
_Therefore I'll cry, &c._
* * * *
No tricks at all shall escape me,
But I will by my maunding,
Get some relief
To ease my grief
When by the highway standing:
'Tis better be a Beggar,
And ask of kind good fellows,
And honestly have
What we do crave,
Than steal and go to the gallows.
_Therefore I'll cry, "Good your worship, good sir,
Bestow one poor denier, sir,
Which, when I've got,
At the Pipe and Pot
I soon will it cashier, sir."_
FINIS.
Printed at London for F. Coules.
The following ballad was published in "Playford's Select Ayres," 1659, p.
95; with music by Dr. John Wilson, and Musical Companion, 1673. It is in
the Percy Folio MS., iii., 308-11. Also in "Windsor Drollery," 2; and "Le
Prince d'Amour," 1660, p. 177. It is attributed to Shakespeare, but with
only manuscript evidence.
"THE SONG OF THE PEDLARS.
"From the fair Lavinian shore,
I your markets come to store.
Muse not though so far I dwell
And my wares come here to sell:
Such is the insatiate thirst after gold,
Then come to my pack
While I cry, what d'ye lack,
What d'ye buy? for here it is to be sold.
"Courteous Sir, I've wares for you,
Garters red and stockings blue,
Dainty gaudes for Sunday gear,
Beads and laces for your dear,
First let me have but a touch of your gold
Then come--Not a swain,
Half so neat,
On the plain
Shall we meet
So comely to behold.
"Madam, come, here you may find
Rings with posies to your mind,
Silken bands for true-love-knot,
And complexion I have got.
First let me have but a touch of your gold,
Then come--To your face,
I'll restore
Every grace
Though you're more
Than three score and ten years old.
"Gentles all, now fare you well,
I must trudge my wares to sell;
Lads so blythe and Dames so young,
Drop a guerdon for my song.
Just let me have but a touch of your gold,
I'll come with my pack
Again to cry,
What d'ye lack,
What d'ye buy?
For here it is to be sold."
Mr. John Payne Collier, in his "_A Book of Roxburghe Ballads_," London,
1847, reproduces a capital ditty; "ryhte merrie and very excellent in its
way," relating to the popular pursuits and the customs of London and the
Londoners in the early part of the seventeenth century. It is printed
_verbatim_ from a broadside, signed W. Turner, and called:--
"The Common Cries of London Town,
Some go up street and some go down.
With Turner's Dish of Stuff, or a Gallymaufery
To the tune of _Wotton Towns End_.[6] Printed for F. C[oles,] T.
V[ere,] and W. G[ilbertson.] 1662."
The only known copy is dated 1662, but contains internal evidence, in the
following stanza (which occurs in the opening of The Second Part,) that it
was written in the reign of James I.
"That's the fat foole of the Curtin:
And the lean fool of the Bull:
Since _Shancke_ did leave to sing his rimes,
He is counted but a gull.
"The players on the Bankside,
The round Globe and the Swan,
Will teach you idle tricks of love,
But the Bull will play the man."
_Shancke._--John Shancke the comic actor here mentioned was celebrated for
singing rhymes, and what were technically "jigs" on the stage. In this
respect, as a low comedian he had been the legitimate successor of
Tarlton, Kempe, Phillips, and Singer. He was on the stage from 1603 to
1635, when he died. Then, John Taylor the _Water Poet_, no mean authority,
informs us that the Swan Theatre, on the Bankside, in the Liberty of Paris
Gardens, had been abandoned by the players in 1613. The Curtain Theatre in
Holywell street--or Halliwell street, as it was usually spelt at that
time--Shoreditch Fields[7] had also fallen into disuse before the reign of
Charles I. The Globe on the Bankside, and the [Red] Bull Theatre at the
upper end of St. John's street, Clerkenwell were employed until after the
restoration. The allusion to the Waterman carrying "bonny lasses over to
the plays," is also a curious note of time. With these matters before us,
we may safely conclude that "Turner's Dish of Stuff" is but a reprint of
an earlier production. As we find it, so we lay it before our readers:
thus:--
"THE COMMON CRIES OF LONDON TOWN:
SOME GO UP STREET, SOME GO DOWN.
With Turner's Dish of Stuff, or a Gallymaufery.
_To the tune_ of Wotton Towns End."
[Illustration]
"My masters all, attend you,
if mirth you love to heare,
And I will tell you what they cry
in London all the yeare.
Ile please you if I can,
I will not be too long:
I pray you all attend awhile,
and listen to my song.
"The fish-wife first begins,
Anye muscles lilly white!
Herrings, sprats or plaice,
or cockles for delight.
Anye welflet oysters!
Then she doth change her note:
She had need to have her tongue be greas'd,
for the rattles in the throat.
"For why, they are but Kentish,
to tell you out of doubt.
Her measure is too little;
goe, beat the bottom out.
Half a peck for two pence?
I doubt it is a bodge.
Thus all the City over
the people they do dodge.
"The wench that cries the kitchin stuff,
I marvel what she ayle,
She sings her note so merry,
but she hath a draggle tayle:
An empty car came running,
and hit her on the bum;
Down she threw her greasie tub,
and away straight she did run.
"But she did give her blessing
to some, but not to all,
To bear a load to Tyburne,
and there to let it fall:
The miller and his golden thumb,
and his dirty neck,
If he grind but two bushels,
he must needs steal a peck.
"The weaver and the taylor,
cozens they be sure,
They cannot work but they must steal,
to keep their hands inure;
For it is a common proverb
thorowout the town,
The taylor he must cut three sleeves
to every woman's gown.
"Mark but the waterman
attending for his fare,
Of hot and cold, of wet and dry,
he alwaies takes his share:
He carrieth bonny lasses
over to the playes,
And here and there he gets a bit,
and that his stomach staies.
"There was a singing boy
who did not ride to Rumford;
When I go to my own school
I will take him in a comfort;
But what I leave behind
shall be no private gain;
But all is one when I am gone:
let him take it for his pain.
"Old shoes for new brooms!
the broom-man he doth sing,
For hats or caps or buskins,
or any old pouch ring.
Buy a mat, a bed-mat!
a hassock or a presse,
A cover for a close stool,
a bigger or a lesse.
"Ripe, cherry ripe!
the coster-monger cries;
Pippins fine or pears!
another after hies,
With basket on his head
his living to advance,
And in his purse a pair of dice
for to play at mumchance.
"Hot pippin pies!
to sell unto my friends,
Or pudding pies in pans,
well stuft with candle's ends.
Will you buy any milk?
I heard a wench that cries:
With a pale of fresh cheese and cream,
another after hies.
"Oh! the wench went neatly;
me thought it did me good,
To see her cherry cheeks
so dimpled ore with blood:
Her waistcoat washed white
as any lilly floure;
Would I had time to talk with her
the space of half an hour.
"Buy black! saith the blaking man,
the best that ere was seen;
Tis good for poore citizens
to make their shoes to shine.
Oh! tis a rare commodity,
it must not be forgot;
It will make them to glister galantly,
and quickly make them rot.
"The world is full of thread-bare poets
that live upon their pen,
But they will write too eloquent,
they are such witty men.
But the tinker with his budget,
the beggar with his wallet,
And Turners turned a gallant man
at making of a ballet."
THE SECOND PART.
_To the same Tune._
[Illustration]
"That's the fat foole of the Curtin,
and the lean fool of the Bull:
Since Shancke did leave to sing his rimes,
he is counted but a gull.
The players on the Bankside,
the round Globe and the Swan,
Will teach you idle tricks of love,
but the Bull will play the man.
"But what do I stand tattling
of such idle toyes?
I had better go to Smith-Field
to play among the boyes:
But you cheating and deceiving lads,
with your base artillery,
I would wish you to shun Newgate,
and withall the pillory.
"And some there be in patcht gownes,
I know not what they be,
That pinch the country-man
with nimming of a fee;
For where they get a booty,
they'le make him pay so dear,
They'le entertain more in a day,
then he shall in a year.
"Which makes them trim up houses
made of brick and stone,
And poor men go a begging,
when house and land is gone.
Some there be with both hands
will swear they will not dally,
Till they have turn'd all upside down,
as many use to sally.
"You pedlers, give good measure,
when as your wares you sell:
Tho' your yard be short, your thumb will slip
your tricks I know full well.
And you that sell your wares by weight,
and live upon the trade,
Some beams be false, some waits too light;
such tricks there have been plaid.
"But small coals, or great coals!
I have them on my back:
The goose lies in the bottom;
you may hear the duck cry quack.
Thus Grim the black collier,
whose living is so loose,
As he doth walk the commons ore,
sometimes he steals a goose.
"Thou usurer with thy money bags
that livest so at ease,
By gaping after gold thou dost
thy mighty God displease;
And for thy greedy usury,
and thy great extortion,
Except thou dost repent thy sins,
Hell fire will be thy portion.
"For first I came to Houns-Ditch,
then round about I creep,
Where cruelty was crowned chief
and pity fast asleep:
Where usury gets profit,
and brokers bear the bell.
Oh, fie upon this deadly sin!
it sinks the soul to hell.
"The man that sweeps the chimneys
with the bush of thorns,
And on his neck a trusse of poles
tipped all with horns,
With care he is not cumbered,
he liveth not in dread?
For though he wear them on his pole,
some wear them on their head.
"The landlord with his racking rents
turns poor men out of dore;
Their children go a begging
where they have spent their store.
I hope none is offended
with that which is endited
If any be, let him go home
and take a pen and write it.
"Buy a trap, a mouse trap,
a torment for fleas!
The hangman works but half the day;
he lives too much at ease.
Come let us leave this boyes play
and idle prittle prat,
And let us go to nine holes,
to spurn-point, or to cat.
"Oh! you nimble fingered lads
that live upon your wits,
Take heed of Tyburn ague,
for they be dangerous fits;
For many a proper man,
for to supply his lack,
Doth leap a leap at Tyburn,
which makes his neck to crack.
"And to him that writ this song
I give this simple lot:
Let every one be ready
to give him half a pot.
And thus I do conclude,
wishing both health and peace
To those that are laid in their bed,
and cannot sleep for fleas.
W. TURNER"
The "tink, terry tink" of the Tinker's "Cry" is preserved in a Miscellany
of the year 1667, called "_Catch that Catch Can; or, the Musical
Champion_."
[Illustration]
"The Tinker.
"Have you any work for a tinker, mistriss?
Old brass, old pots, or kettles?
I'll mend them all with a tink, terry tink,
And never hurt your mettles.
First let me have but a touch of your ale,
'Twill steel me against cold weather,
Or tinkers frees,
Or vintners lees,
Or tobacco chuse you whether.
But of your ale,
Your nappy ale,
I would I had a ferkin,
For I am old
And very cold
And never wear a jerkin."
The tinker's "Cry" forms the opening lines of "Clout the Cauldron," one of
the best of our old Scottish songs:--
"'Hae ye ony pots or pans,
Or any broken chanlers,'
I am a tinker to my trade,
And newly come from Flanders."
But the song is so well known to all who take an interest in our northern
minstrelsy, and is to be found, moreover, in every good collection of
Scottish Songs, that it is enough to refer to it.
Honest John Bunyan was a travelling tinker originally. Reader! just for a
moment fancy the inspired author--poet we may call him--of "_The Pilgrim's
Progress_," crying the "cry" of his trade through the streets of Bedford,
thus--"_Mistress, have you any work for the tinker? pots, pans, kettles I
mend, old brass, lead or old copper I buy. Anything in my way to-day,
maids?_" While at the same time, through his brain was floating visions of
Vanity Fair, the Holy War, the Slough of Despond, the Valley of the Shadow
of Death, the Barren Fig Tree, the Water of Life, &c. beneath the long
head of hair, shaggy and dirty, too, as a tinker's generally is.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: HOT CODLINGS:--_A Catch_.]
This will be found in "_Windsor Drollery_," and, with music for three
voices, by Thomas Holmes, in John Hilton's "_Catch that Catch Can_;" and
also Walsh's "_Catch Club_." Part II., p. 25.
"Have you observ'd the wench in the street,
She's scarce any hose or shoes to her feet;
And when she cries, she sings,
'I have hot Codlings, hot Codlings.'
"Or have you ever seen or heard,
The mortal with his Lyon tauny beard!
He lives as merrily as heart can wish,
And still he cries, 'Buy a brush, buy a brush.'
"Since these are merry, why should we take care?
Musicians, like Camelions, must live by the Aire;
Then let's be blithe and bonny, no good meeting baulk,
What though we have no money, we shall find Chalk."
The best known collection of cries is "The Cryes of the City of London.
Drawne after the Life. P. Tempest, _Excudit_," a small folio volume, which
when published, in 1688, consisted of only fifty plates, as the following
advertisement, extracted from the _London Gazette_ of May 28-31, 1688,
sufficiently proves:--
"There is now published the Cryes and Habits of London, lately drawn
after the Life in great variety of Actions. Curiously Engraven upon 50
Copper plates, fit for the Ingenious and Lovers of Art. Printed and
Sold by P. Tempest, over-against Somerset House, in the Strand."
Samuel Pepys, the eccentric diarist, who died 1703, left to Magdalene
College, Cambridge, an invaluable collection of ballads, manuscript naval
memoirs, ancient English poetry, three volumes of "Penny Merriments," and
a numerous assemblage of etchings and engravings. Among the latter are a
number of Tempest's Cries in the first state. These are still preserved in
the Pepysian Library in the same College.
In 1711 another edition of Tempest's Cries was published, containing
seventy-four plates, several of which can scarcely be called cries. They
are popular "London Characters" rather than "criers." As the book,
however, is extremely rare, and consequently costly, and as a history of
the old London Cries would be very imperfect without a particular account
of Tempest's volume being made, with a few words about Mauron, who
designed, and Pearce Tempest, who engraved these cries, that which follows
will not, we trust, be altogether out of place. Of Mauron, we can find no
better account than the notice in Walpole.
"Marcellus Mauron--sometimes spelt Lauron, was born at the Hague in 1643,
and learnt to paint of his father, with whom he came when young into
England. Here he was placed with one La Zoon, a portrait-painter, and then
with Flesshier, but owed his chief improvement to his own application. He
lived several years in Yorkshire, and when he returned again to London he
had very much improved himself in his art. He drew correctly, studied
nature diligently, copied closely, and so surpassed all his contemporaries
in drapery, that Sir Godfrey Kneller employed him to clothe his portraits.
He likewise excelled in imitating the different styles of eminent masters,
executed conversation pieces of considerable merit. Several prints were
made from his works, and several plates he etched and scraped himself. A
book on fencing, and the procession at the coronation of William and Mary,
were designed by him. He lived in Bow-street, Covent-garden, on the west
side, about three doors up, and at the back of Sir Godfrey Kneller's house
in the Piazza; there he died of consumption March 11th, 1702."
Of Pearce Tempest, the engraver, the particulars collected by Vertue were
so extremely slight that Horace Walpole merely enumerates him among those
of whom nothing is known. It may be told of him, however, that he lived in
the Strand, over-against Somerset House, and dying in 1717, was buried on
the 14th of April, in the church-yard of St. Paul, Covent-garden.
The six woodcuts following are reduced copies of the engraved figures that
appear in Marcellus Mauron _cum_ Tempest's "The Cryes of the City of
London;" first we have:--
[Illustration: FINE WRITING INK!]
This engraving pretty well describes the occupation of the figure
represented. He carries a barrel on his back--pens in his right hand, with
a pint measure and funnel at his side. But since Mauron's time the cry of
"_Fine Writing Ink_" has ceased to be heard in the streets of the
metropolis, so we no longer hear:--
"My ink is good--as black as jet
'Tis used by Princes--and the state,
If once you venture it to try,
Of this I'm sure--none else you'll buy."
[Illustration: BUY AN IRON FORK, OR A SHOVEL?]
The demand for such an iron fork, or such a shovel as the old woman
carries is now discontinued.
[Illustration: TROOP, EVERY ONE, ONE!]
The man blowing a trumpet, "Troop, every one, one!" was a street seller of
hobby-horses--toys for children of three hundred years ago.
"Call'st thou my love, hobby-horse; the hobby-horse is but a colt."
_Love's Labour Lost_, Act iii., sc. 1.
He carried them, as represented in the engraving, in a partitioned frame,
on his shoulder, and to each horse's head was a small flag with two bells
attached. It was a pretty plaything for a "little master," and helped him
to imitate the galloping of the real and larger hobby-horse in the
pageants and mummeries that passed along the streets, or pranced in the
shows at fairs and on the stage. Now-a-days we give a boy the first stick
at hand to thrust between his legs as a Bucephalus--the shadow of a
shadow--or the good natured grandpapa wishing to give my "young master"
something of the semblance of the generous animal--for the horse is no
less popular with boys than formerly, takes his charge to the nearest
toyshop and buys him a painted stick on which is a sawn-out representation
of a horse's head, which with the addition of a whip will enable him to:--
"Ride a cock-horse to Banbury-cross,
To see what Tommy can buy;
A penny white loaf, a penny white cake,
And a twopenny apple-pie."
[Illustration: BUY A FINE SINGING BIRD!]
The _cries_ of singing birds are extinct; we have only bird-_sellers_. The
above engraving, therefore represents a by-gone character.
[Illustration: STRAWBERRIES RIPE, AND CHERRIES IN THE RISE.]
In the earlier days, the above was at once a musical and a poetical cry.
It must have come over the ear, telling of sunny gardens not a sparrow's
flight from the City, such as that of the Bishop of Ely in Holborn, and of
plenteous orchards which could spare their boughs as well as their
fruit:--
"_D. of Glou._--My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn,
I saw good strawberries in your garden there:
I do beseech you send for some of them.
_B. of Ely._--Marry, and I will, my lord, with all my heart."
_Richard III._, act iii., sc. 4.
[Illustration: FINE ORANGES AND LEMONS.]
The "orange-women" of Ben Jonson we have figured to the life. The familiar
mention of the orange-sellers in the "Silent Woman," and this very early
representation of one of them, show how general the use of this fruit had
become in England at the beginning of the seventeenth century. It is
stated, though the story is somewhat apocryphal, that the first oranges
were imported by Sir Walter Raleigh. It is probable that about his time
they first became an article of general commerce. We now consume about
three hundred and fifty millions of oranges every year.
The class of bold young women--"Orange Wenches," that Nell Gwynne made
famous is sufficiently alluded to in a passage in the _Spectator_, No.
141:
"But, indeed, by such representations, a poet sacrifices the best part
of his audience to the worst; and, as one would think, neglects the
boxes to write to the _orange-wenches_."
Rowe and other writers go far to prove that the "Orange Wenches" who
frequented theatres had
"Other Fish to fry, and other Fruit to sell,"
beside supplying refreshment to the young gallants of the day.
In Douglas Jerrold's comedy of "_Nell Gwynne_," which was first
represented at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, 9th of January, 1833, with
the following cast of characters:--
King Charles the Second MR. JONES.
Sir Charles Berkeley MR. FORRESTER.
Charles Hart, Major Mohun, Managers of
the King's Theatre, Drury lane, 1667 MR. DURUSET.
Betterton, Manager of the Duke's Theatre,
Lincoln's-inn MR. DIDDEAR.
Joe Haynes MR. MEADOWS.
Counsellor Crowsfoot MR. BLANCHARD.
Stockfish MR. F. MATTHEWS.
Boy MASTER MACDONALD.
Nell Gwynne MISS TAYLOR.
Orange Moll MRS. KEELEY.
Mrs. Snowdrop MRS. DALY.
There is the following scene and song:--
_Enter_ NELL GWYNNE, _as orange girl, with orange basket. She carries
a mask._
_Nell._ (_Sings._) "_Buy oranges!_" Ladies and cavaliers, vouchsafe to
look at my basket! Maidens, ripen my fruit with your glances; buy my
oranges, as bright as hope and as sweet as courtship.--Though they
look as hard as gold, they'll melt in the mouth like a lover's
promise.--Their juice is syrup, and their coats as thin as a poet's.
Buy, gentlemen; or I'll vow that, being jealous, you hate yellow even
in an orange.
_Betterton._ (_Aside._) It is--I'd swear to her face--the very girl!
_Charles._ (_Coming down with Nelly._) And have your oranges really
all these virtues?
_Nell._ (_Aside._) So, my gallant mercer. All, and a thousand
more;--there's nothing good that may not be said of the orange. It
sets special examples to elder brothers, misers, and young travellers.
_Charles._ Aye? What example to elder brothers?
_Nell._ This; though full of age, it dwells quietly on the same branch
with bud and blossom.
_Charles._ What does it teach misers?
_Nell._ That golden coats should cover melting hearts.
_Charles._ And, lastly, what may the young traveller learn of your
orange?
_Nell._ This much; that he is shipped when green, that he may ripen on
the voyage.
_Charles._ Prettily lectured.
_Betterton._ (_Aside._) The king seems dazzled with the wench.--I must
secure her for the Duke's.
_Nell._ But, gentlemen, fair gentlemen, will no one lighten my basket?
Buy my oranges!
SONG.--NELL GWYNNE.
Buy oranges!--No better sold,--
New brought in Spanish ships;
As yellow bright as minted gold,
As sweet as ladies' lips.
Come, maidens, buy; nor judge my fruit
From beauty's bait--the skin;
Nor think, like fops, with gaudy suit,
They're dull and crude within.
Buy oranges!
Buy oranges!--Buy courtiers, pray,
And as ye drain their juice,
Then, cast the poor outside away,
A thing that's served its use;
Why, courtier, pause; this truth translate,
Imprinted in the rind;
However gay the courtier's state,
'Tis yet of orange kind.
Buy oranges!
Buy oranges!--Coquetting fair,--
As sweet reproach come buy;
And, as the fruit ye slice and share,
Remember with a sigh--
A heart divided needs must cast
The faith which is its soul;
If, maidens, ye would have it last,
Give none--if not the whole.
Buy oranges!
(_The by-standers all applaud._)
The orange-woman who carried the golden fruit through every street and
alley, with the musical cry of:--"_Fine Oranges and Lemons_," lasted for a
century or two. Then the orange-woman became, as everything else became, a
more prosaic person as she approached our own times. She was a
barrow-woman at the end of the last century: and Porson has thus described
her:--
"As I walked through the Strand, so cheerful and gay,
I met a young girl a-wheeling a barrow;
'Fine fruit, sir,' says she, 'and a bill of the play.'"
The transformation was the same with the strawberry and cherry-women.
From the "Collection of Ancient Songs and Ballads, written on various
subjects, and printed between the years MDLX. and MDCC." in the British
Museum, and now known as the ROXBURGHE BALLADS, we take the ballad of:--
THE CRIES OF LONDON.
Tune--_The Merry Christ-church Bells_.