You lovers of mirth attend a while, [10.]
a merry new ditty here I write,
I know it will make you laugh and smile,
for every line affords delight:
The Lasses of Darby with young Men,
they went to Goose Fair for recreation,
But how these Sparks did serve them then,
is truly worth your observation,
Truly, truly worth your observation,
therefore I pray observe this Ditty;
The Maids did complain they came there in vain
and was not, was not that a pity.
So soon as they came into the Fair,
The Batchelors made them conjues[F. 11] low,
And bid them a thousand welcomes there,
this done to a tippling school they go;
How pleasant was honest Kate and Sue,
believing they should be richly treated,
But, Neighbours and Friends, as I am true;
no Lasses ever was so cheated;
Cheated, cheated, very farely cheated,
as you may note by this new Ditty;
They were left alone, to make their moan,
and was not, was not that a pity?
[Illustration]
The innocent Lasses fair and gay,
concluded the Men was kind and free,
Because they pass'd the time away,
a plenty of cakes and ale they see;
For sider and mead they then did call,
and whatever else the House afforded,
But Susan was forc'd to pay for all,
out of the mony she had hoarded,
Hoarded, hoarded, mony she had hoarded;
it made her sing a doleful Ditty,
And so did the rest with grief opprest,
and was not, was not that a pity?
Young Katy she seemed something Coy,
because she would make them eager grow,
As knowing thereby she might enjoy
what beautiful Damsels long to know,
On complements they did not stand,
nor did they admire their charming features;
For they had another game in hand,
which was to pawn these pretty creatures,
Creatures, creatures, loving, loving Creatures,
which was so charming, fair, and pretty;
The Men sneak'd away, and nothing did pay,
and was not, was not, that a pity?
Though out of the door they enter'd first,
and left them tipling there behind,
Those innocent Maids did not mistrust,
that Batchelors could be so unkind.
Quoth Susan, I know their gone to buy
the fairings which we did so require,
And they will return I know, for why,
they do our youthful charms admire;
Therefore, therefore, stay a little longer,
and I will sing you a pleasant Ditty,
But when they found they were catch'd in the pound,
they sigh'd and weep'd the more's the pity.
Now finding the Men return'd no more,
and that the good People would not trust,
They presently call'd to know the Score,
it chanc'd to be fifteen shilling just:
Poor Kate had but five pence in her purse,
but Sue had a crown besides a guinney;
And since the case had happen'd thus,
poor Soul she paid it e'ry penny,
Penny, Penny, e'ry, e'ry penny,
tho' with a sad and doleful Ditty
Said she, for this I had not a kiss,
and was not, was not that a pity?
Printed for J. Bissel,[F. 12] in West Smithfield.
[Footnote 11: Congées, low bows.]
[Footnote 12: James Bissel lived at the Bible and Harp, by the
Hospital Gate, and published between 1685 and 1695.]
[1.] There was a Priest in the Country, which had christned a Child;
and when he had christned it, he and the clark were bidden to the
drinking that should be there, and thither they went with other
people, and being there, the Priest drunk and made so merry that he
was quite foxed,[F. 13] and thought to go home before he laid him down
to sleep; but having gone a little way, he grew so drowsie, that he
could go no further, but laid him down by a ditch side, so that his
feet did hang in the water, and lying on his back, the Moon shined in
his face: thus he lay till the rest of the Company came from drinking,
who as they came home found the Priest lying as aforesaid, and they
thought to get him away, but do what they could he would not rise,
but said, Do not meddle with me, for I lie very well, I will not stir
hence before morning, but I pray you lay some more cloathes on my
feet, and blow out the Candle, and let me lie and take my rest.
[Footnote 13: Drunk.]
_In Getam._
_Geta_ from wool and weaving first began, [5.]
Swelling and Swelling to a gentleman;
When he was gentleman, and bravely dight,
He left not swelling till he was a knight;
At last forgetting what he was at first,
He swole to be a Lord ... and then he burst.
_On Button a Sexton making a grave._
Ye powers above, and heavenly poles, [5.]
Are graves become but _Button_ Holes.
[4.] Two Sparks standing together in the Cloysters, seeing a pretty
Lady pass by, says one of them, _There goes the handsomest Lady that
I ever saw in my Life_; She hearing him, turned back, and seeing him
very ugly, said, _Sir I would I could in way of Requital say as much
of you_. _Faith_, says he, _so you may, and Lye as I did_.
_On Jack Wiseman._
_Jack Wiseman_ brags his very name, [3.]
Proclaims his wit, he's much to blame,
To doe the Proverb so much wrong,
Which sayes he's wise that holds his tongue;
Which makes me contradict the Scooles,
And apt to thinke the wise men fools,
Yet pardon _Jack_, I hear that now
Thou'rt wed, and must thy wit allow,
That by a strange [oe]nigma can,
Make a light Woman a _Wiseman_.
_Of a Woman's Kindnesse to her Husband._
One that had lived long by lewdest shifts, [6.]
Brought to the Court that Corne from Cockle[F. 14] sifts
Adiudged, first to lye a yeere in fetters,
Then burned in his forhead with two letters,
And to disparage him with more disgrace,
To slit his nose, the figure of his face.
The prisoners wife with no dishonest mind,
To shew herselfe unto her husband kind,
Sued humbly to the Lords, and would not cease,
Some part of this sharp rigour to release.
He was a man (she said) had serv'd in Warre,
What mercy would a Souldiers face so marre.
Thus much said she, but gravely they replied,
It was great mercy that he thus was tried:
His crimes deserve he should have lost his life,
And hang in chaines; Alas, reply'd the wife,
If you disgrace him thus, you quite undo him,
Good my Lords, hang him, pray be good unto him.
[Footnote 14: The _Agrostemna githago_, Linn.]
[1.] There were once too men that were both masterless and moneyless,
& one said to the other, What remedy canst thou now find out, that we
may either get some meat or money? By my troth (qd. the other) I do
know a very fine shift, (& being very early in the morning they espyed
a man coming with Hogs). Lo, yonder cometh a man with Hogs, and I will
tell him that they be sheep, and I will cause him to lay a Wager with
me, whether they be Sheep or Hogs: & I will cause the matter to be
judged by the next man that cometh, but then thou must go another way
& meet with us; when we demand of thee whether they be sheep or hogs,
thou must say that they be sheep. Then they separated themselves the
one from the other, and the one went to meet the man that had the
Swine, bidding him good morrow; the man doing the like to him again.
Then he said to the old man, Father, where had you your fair sheep.
What sheep qd the man; these sheep that you drive before you: Why, qd
the old man, they are swine. What (qd. the other) will you make me a
fool? think you I know not Sheep from Swine? Marry (qd. the old man)
I will lay one of my Swine against what thou wilt, that they be no
Sheep. I hold thee my coat against one of thy sheep qd. the other. I
am content qd the old man, by whom shall we be tryed? By the next man
that meets us. Content, said the old man; and then they perceived the
man coming being the fellow of the young man. And when he came to them
the old man requested him to tel them what beasts those were? Why (qd.
he) they be sheep, do you not know sheep? I told him so (qd. the other
young man) but he would not believe me, so I laid my Coat upon a Wager
that they were sheep, and he laid me one of his sheep against my Coat
that they were Swine; and I won it have I not? Yea (qd. the old man,)
but God help me, I bought them for Swine. And then the young man took
one of the fattest hogs he could find amongst them all, & carryed him
away, and his fellow went another way, as though he had not known
him, and the poore man returned again to the place where he had bought
them.
What became of him afterward I cannot tell: only thus much I know,
that he was deceived by those two crafty fellows of one of his hogs.
But they immediately met one the other again, and sold the hog for
Money, and rejoyced that they fared so well (not knowing how to have
otherwise sustained their wants).
_Of Marcus._
When Marcus fail'd a borrowed sum to pay, [5.]
Unto his friend at the appointed day:
'Twere superstition for a man he sayes,
To be a strict observer of set dayes.
The industrious Smith wherin is showne, [11.]
How plain dealing is overthrown,
That let a man do the best that he may,
An idle huswife will work his decay,
Yet art is no burthen; tho ill we may speed,
Our labour will help us in time of our need.
To the Tune of _Young Man remember delights are but vain_.
There was a poor Smith liv'd in a poor town,
That had a loving wife bonny and brown,
And though he were very discreet and wise,
Yet he would do nothing without her advice;
His stock it grew low, full well did he know,
He told his wife what he intended to do,
Quoth he, sweet wife, if I can prevail,
I will shoo horses, and thou shalt sell Ale.
I see by my labour but little I thrive,
And that against the stream I do strive
By selling of Ale some money is got,
If every man honestly pay for his pot:
By this we may keep the wolf from the door,
And live in good fashion though now we live poor,
If we have good custom, we shall have quick sale,
So may we live bravely by selling of Ale.
Kind husband, quoth she, let be as you said,
It is the best motion that ever you made,
A Stan[F. 15] of good Ale, let me have in,
A dozen of good white bread in my Bin;
Tobacco likewise we must not forget,
Men will call for it when malt's above wheat.
When once it is known, then ore hill and dale,
Men will come flocking to taste of our Ale.
[Illustration]
They sent for a wench, her name it was _Besse_,
And her they hired to welcome their guesse,[F. 16]
They took in good Ale, and many things mo,
The Smith had got him two strings to his bow:
Good fellows came in, and began for to rore,
The Smith he was never so troubled before,
But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl,
These things must be, if we sell Ale.
The Smith went to his work every day,
But still one or other would call him away,
For now he had got him the name of an Host,
It cost him many a Pot and a Toste.
Beside much precious time he now lost,
And thus the poor Smith was every day crost,
But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl
These things must be if we sell Ale.
Men run on the score, and little they paid,
Which made the poor Smith be greatly dismaied,
And bonny _Besse_ though she were not slack
To welcome her guesse, yet things went to wrack;
For she would exchange a pot for a kisse,
Which any fellow should seldom times misse.
But quoth the good Wife, sweet hart do not rayl,
These things must be if we sell Ale.
The Smith went abroad, at length hee came home,
And found his maid and man in a room,
Both drinking together foot to foot,
To speak unto them he thought was no boot:
For they were both drunk and could not reply,
To make an excuse as big as a lye.
But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl,
These things must be if we sell Ale.
He came home again and there he did see
His Wife kindly sitting on a man's knee,
And though he said little, yet he thought the more,
And who can blame the poor Wittall therfore.
He hug'd her and kist her though Vulcan stood by,
Which made him to grumble, and look all awry.
But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl,
These things must be, if we sell Ale.
A Sort of Saylers were drinking one night,
And when they were drunk began for to fight,
The Smith came to part them, as some do report,
And for his good will was beat in such sort
That he could not lift his arms to his head,
Nor yet very hardly creep up to his bed.
But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl,
These things must be if we sell Ale.
The Smith by chance a good fellow had met,
That for strong Ale was much in his debt,
He ask't him for money; quoth he, by your leave,
I owe you no money, nor none you shall have.
I owe to your wife, and her I will pay;
The Smith he was vext and departed away.
Alas who can blame him, if now he do rayl,
For these things must be if we sell Ale.
* * * * *
A flock of good fellows, all Smiths by their trade,
Within a while after a holiday made,
Unto the Smith's house they came then with speed,
And there they were wondrous merry indeed,
With my pot and thy pot to make the score hier,
Mine Host was so drunk he fell in the fire.
But quoth the good Wife, sweet hart do not rayl,
These things must be if we sell Ale.
* * * * *
But men ran so much with him on the score,
That Vulcan at last grew wondrous poor,
He owed the Brewer and Baker so much,
They thretned to arrest him, his case it was such;
He went to his Anvill, to my pot and thine,
He turn'd out his Maid, he pul'd down his Signe,
But O (quoth the good Wife) why should we fail,
These things should not be, if we sell Ale.
The Smith and his boy went to work for some chink,
To pay for the liquor which others did drink
Of all trades in London few break as I heare,
That sell Tobacco, strong Ale and good Beer,
They might have done better, but they were loth
To fill up their measure with nothing but froth.
Let no Ale-house keeper at my Song rayl,
These things must be if they sell Ale.