[Illustration]
Humour, Wit, and Satire
of the
Seventeenth Century.
[1.] There was a man that had been drinking so hard that he could
scarse stand upon his feet, yet at night he would go home, and as he
went through a green Meadow, neer a hedge side the Bryers held him by
the cloaths and the legs, and he had thought that one had holden him,
and would have had him to drink more, and he said, Good fellow, let
me go, by my troth I can drink no more, I have drank so much already,
that I cannot go home; and there he abode all the same night, and on
the morrow went his Ways.
When _Marcus_ hath Carrowst March beere and sacke, [2.]
And feels his head grow dizzy therwithall.
Then of Tobacco he a pype doth lacke,
Of Trinidade in cane, in leafe, or ball,
Which tane a little he doth Speet and Smacke,
Then layes him on his bed for feare to fall
And on Tobacco layes the blame of all,
But that same pype that Marcus brain did lade
Was of Madera not of Trinidade.
I had a love, and she was chaste, [3.]
Alack the more's the pity,
But wot you how my love was chaste,
She was chaste right through the City.
[4.] A Justice of Peace overtaking a Parson upon the Road, between
_London_ and _Bow_, told his Company that he would put a Trick upon
him: and so, coming up to him, said, _Sir, You don't follow your
Master's Rule, for he was content with an Ass, but you have a very
fine Horse_. The Parson replyed, the reason was, because the King had
made so many Asses Justices, that a Clergyman could not get one to
Ride on.
_On a drawer drunk._
Drawer with thee now even is thy wine [5.]
For thou hast pierced his hogs-head, and he thine.
_Upon the weights of a Clock._
I wonder time's so swift, when as I see, [5.]
Upon her heeles such lumps of lead to bee.
_Nonsense._
Oh that my Lungs could bleat like butter'd Pease; [3.]
But bleating of my lungs hath Caught the itch,
And are as mangy as the Irish Seas,
That doth ingender windmills on a Bitch.
I grant that Rainbowes being lull'd asleep,
Snort like a woodknife in a Lady's eyes;
Which makes her grieve to see a pudding creep,
For Creeping puddings only please the wise.
Not that a hard row'd herring should presume
To swing a tyth pig in a Cateskin purse;
For fear the hailstons which did fall at Rome,
By lesning of the fault should make it worse.
For 'tis most certain Winter woolsacks 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 skie
Was made of Carbonado'd Antidotes;
But my opinion is, a Whales left eye,
Need not be coyned all King _Harry_ groates.
The reason's plain, for Charons Westerne barge
Running a tilt at the subjunctive mood,
Beckoned to Bednal Green, and gave him charge
To fasten padlockes with Antartic food.
The end will be the Mill ponds must be laded,
To fish for white pots in a Country dance;
So they that suffered wrong and were upbraded
Shall be made friends in a left handed trance.
[1.] There was three young men going to Lambeth along by the Water
side, and the one plaid with the other, and they cast each others Cap
into the water, in such sort as they could not get their Caps again:
but over the place where their Caps were, did grow a great old tree,
which did Cover a great deale of the Water. One of them said to the
rest, Sirs, I have found out a notable way to come by them. First I
will make myself fast by the middle, with one of your girdles unto the
tree, and he that is with you shall hang fast upon my girdle, and he
that is last shall take hold on him that holds fast on my girdle, and
so with one of his hands he may take up all our caps and cast them on
the sand. And so they did; but when they thought that they had been
most secure and fast, he that was above felt his girdle slack, and
said, Soft, sirs, my girdle slacketh; make it fast quickly, said they,
but as he was untying it to make it faster they fell all three into
the water, and were well washed for their pains.
_Of Lynus borrowing._
_Lynus_ came late to me sixe crownes to borrow, [6.]
And sware G-- d--- him, hee'd repai't to morrow.
I knew his word as current as his band
And straight I gave to him three crownes in hand;
This I to give, this he to take was willing
And thus he gain'd, and I sav'd fifteene shilling.
=The Woman to the Plow=
and
The Man to the Hen Roost.
Or, a fine way to cure a _Cot Quean_--.