or, the
Young Gallant Trappan'd.
_A young Man did unto her a Wooing come,
But she pretended much that she was dumb;
But when they both in Marriage bands were ty'd,
The Doctor's skill was likewise with her try'd;
The Doctor he set her Tongue on the Run,
She Chatters now and never will have done._
To a New Tune, call'd, _Dum, dum, dum_; Or, I would I were in my own
Country &c.
Licens'd and Enter'd according to Order.
All you that pass along, [35.]
Give ear unto my song,
Concerning a youth
that was young, young, young;
And of a Maiden fair
Few with her might compare
But alack, and alas, she
_was dumb, dumb, dumb_.
She was beautious, fresh and gay
Like the pleasant Flowers in _May_,
And her cheeks was as round,
as a plum, plum, plum;
She was neat in every part,
And she stole away his heart,
But alack, and alas, she
_was dumb, dumb, dumb_.
At length this Country Blade,
Wedded this prety Maid,
And he kindly conducted
her home, home, home;
Thus in her Beauty bright,
Lay all his whole Delight
But alack, and alas,
she was dumb, dumb, dumb.
Now will I plainly show
What work this Maid could do,
Which a Pattern may be,
For girls young, young, young:
O she both day and night
In working took delight.
But alack, and alas, she
_was dumb, dumb, dumb_.
[Illustration]
She could brew, and she could bake,
She could wash, wring and shake,
She could sweep the house
with a broom, broom, broom:
She could knit and sow and spin,
And do any such like thing
But alack, and alas, she
_was dumb, dumb, dumb_.
But at last this man did go,
The Doctor's skill to know,
Saying, Sir, can you cure
a Woman of the Dumb?
O it is the easiest part,
That belongs unto my Art,
For to cure a Woman
_of the Dumb, dumb, dumb_.
To the Doctor he did her bring,
And he cut her Chattering-string,
And he set her Tongue on
the run, run, run:
In the morning he did rise,
And she fill'd his house with cries,
And she rattled in his ears
like a drum, drum, drum.
To the Doctor he did go,
With his heart well fill'd with woe,
Crying, Doctor, I am
undone, done, done;
Now she's turn'd a scolding Wife
And I'm weary of my life,
Nor I cannot make her hold
her tongue, tongue, tongue.
The Doctor thus did say,
When she went from me away,
She was perfectly cured of
the dumb, dumb, dumb.
But it's beyond the Art of Man,
Let him do the best he can,
For to make a scolding Woman
hold her tongue, tongue, tongue.
So as you to me came
Return you back again
And take you the Oyl
of Hazel[F. 63] strong
With it anoint her Body round,
When she makes the House to sound,
So perhaps you may charm her,
tongue, tongue, tongue.
[Footnote 62: For tune, see Appendix.]
[Footnote 63: A hazel switch.]
[26.] A Schoolmaster did always dictate to his Scholars. _H non est
Litera_, that is H is no letter; and on a time he call'd one of the
Scholars to him, and bid him _heat the Cawdle_, and when he askt for
it, the Scholar told him, _that he had done with the Cawdle as he bid
him_. _What's that?_ says his Master, _Why Sir_, says he, _I did eat
it._ _Sirrah_, says he, _I bid you heat it with an H_. _Yes Sir_, says
he, _But I did eat it with Bread_.
[32.] What is that that hath his belly full of man's meat and his
mouth full of dirt? _Solution._ It is an Oven when it is full of
bread, or pies, for that is man's meat, and the Ovens mouth is then
closed with dirt.
What's an _Ace_, says one, [12.]
Dewce take me, says _John_,
The Tray will be up in a trice
You cater waule now.
And your wit sinks low,
Why friends, the jest is concise.
Death and an honest Cobler fell at bate [24.]
And finding him worne out, would needs translate;
He was a trusty so'le, and time had bin
He would, well liquord, go through thick and thin.
Death put a trick upon him, and what was't?
The Cobler call'd for All, death brought his last;
'Twas not uprightly done to cut his thread,
That mended more and more till he was dead;
But since hee's gone, tis all that can be said,
Honest _Cut-Cobler_ here is underlayed.
In political satire it was not to be expected that so prominent a
person as Prince Rupert, the son of James I.'s own sister, could
come off scathless; but it is somewhat singular, and it shows the
bitterness of the parties, that even his pets, his poodle dog, and his
monkey, should provoke the satiric ire of the Roundhead writers. Both
are historical, and, thanks to Thomason, whose wonderful collection,
known as the "Kings Pamphlets," exists in the British Museum, the
materials of their history are easily accessible to the student. The
Prince's dog "Boy" was a white poodle, and it is somewhat curious to
note that poodles, over 200 years since, were shaved so as to conserve
the lionlike mane, although the dandyisms of tufts on the legs and
tail seem to have been reserved for a later era.
[Illustration: "To him pudel."
"Bite him, peper"
'Cauilier Dog'
'Roundhead Curr']
His master must have had a special and peculiar affection for "Boy,"
as he, and a tame hare, "which used to follow him about & do his
bidding with facility," were his solace when imprisoned at Lintz
in 1641. According to a writer,[F. 64] whose "Prince Ruperts diary"
everybody would like to see, it was a "beautiful white dogge," was
given him by Lord Arundell, and was "of a breede so famous that the
Grand Turk gave it in particular injunction to his ambassador to
obtaine him a puppie thereof." His nationality is given in a tract
[36] as being either of German or Finland breed, and he must soon have
become notorious, as Prince Rupert did not come over to England after
his release from prison until February 1642; and we find from the
accompanying engraving [36] that early the following year he was
politically made use of for party purposes.
In this dialogue, which is too lengthy for reproduction here, it will
be seen that he was already accredited with supernatural qualities.
"_Tobies Dog._ ... I heare you are Prince _Ruperts_ white Boy.
_P. Rup. dog._ I am none of his White Boy, my name is
_Puddle_.
_Tob. dog._ A dirty name indeed, you are not pure enough for
my company, besides I hear on both sides of my eares that you
are a Laplander, or Fin land Dog, or truly no better than a
Witch in the shape of a white Dogge.
* * * * *
_Tob. Dog._ You are of _Brackley_ breed, better to hang than
to keep.
_ Pr. Rup. Dog._ No, Sirrah, I am of high Germain breed;
_Tob. Dog._ Thou art a Reprobate, and a lying Curre; you were
either whelpt in Lapland, or else in Fin land; where there is
none but divells and Sorcerers live."
This supernatural idea seems to have had its rise in Boy's
accompanying his master always, even on the battlefield, enjoying a
marvellous immunity from harm. There is a very similar engraving to
the accompanying, in a chap-book of "The History of the Blind Begger
of Bednal Green" [38], where it does duty for "Young Monford Riding to
the Wars, where he unhapily lost his Eye sight."[F. 65] And I have no
doubt but that in this present work the engraving to "The Poets Dream"
is an old woodcut of Prince Rupert and his dog Boy.
[37.]
[Illustration: Dauentry ... Brimidgham]
In another tract of the time [39] are plentiful allusions to his being
a witch. "Grumbling Sir, or counterfeit Lapland Lady, I admire thy
impudence in calling thyself a Lady: Art thou a Lady and hast so much
haire?... Thou wouldst be a rough bed fellow for the Divell himself;
if thou art not a Divell thyself, thou hast conditions sutable to
thy shape, for thou doest snarle and bite at the Parliament, and hast
learnt that quality from other Popish Dogs; good thou canst do none
to the Prince, for that is contrary to the nature of a Witch, which in
some respects thou unjustly doest assume, but in other conditions most
fitly, for a Witch will dine or suppe with a roasted crab squittering
in the fire, or with a few boild Onions and a draught of Buttermilke
which one of her neighbours gave her for fear more than for love, but
thou doest fare most deliciously of the rumps and wings of Capons, and
Kidneys, and art indeed better fed than taught. Besides a Witch will
lie upon an old straw bed with her house Cat which seems instead of
her bed fellow. But the Kings chair of state and all the embroydered
velvet stools are thy day couches, where thou lyest and sleepest
with thy malignant eyes half open, and canst winke at small and great
faults as thou doest for occasion. But then thou art a Witch again
in some conditions, for they are overgrown with ugly gray hair which
hangs down about their shoulders, and so art thou, _Boy_. Witches are
ready to doe mischief, but can do no good, and such are thy malignant
qualities, _Boy_; Pardon me, for though our gracious King loves thee,
it is not as thou art a Witch but as thou art Prince _Robert's_
dog." And this attack on poor _Boy_ winds up with calling him "a very
cowardly malignant cur," though he look like a lion.
Another tract [40] talks of "her cousen Prince _Ruperts_ with her
white Tog, which as her Moderns hold is a Prince disguis'd." And
Cleveland [41] in his ode "to Prince Rupert" sings to poor _Boy's_
disadvantage, and holds him up as a bugbear.
"They fear the Giblets of his Train, they fear
Even his Dog, that four legg-d Cavalier:
He that devours the Scraps which _Lunsford_ makes,
Whose Picture feeds upon a Child in Stakes.
Who name but _Charles_ he comes aloft for him,
But holds up his Malignant Leg at _Pym_.
'Gainst whom they've several Articles in Souse;
First that he barks against the Sense o' th' House.
_Resolv'd Delinquent_, to the Tower straight;
Either to th' Lyons, or the Bishops Grate.
Next, for his Ceremonious Wag o' th' Tail;
But there the Sisterhood will be his Bail,
At least the Countess will, _Lust's Amsterdam_,
That lets in all Religions of the Game.
Thirdly, he smells Intelligence, that's better,
And cheaper too, than _Pym_ from his own Letter:
Who's doubly pay'd (Fortune or we the blinder?)
For making Plots, and then for Fox the Finder.
Lastly he is a Devil without doubt;
For when he would lie down, he wheels about;
Makes Circles and is Couchant in a Ring,
And therefore score up one for Conjuring."
In a contemporary tract [36] _Boy_ is accredited with being
invulnerable, and he had escaped the chances of war in a remarkable
manner. It would be a pity to curtail the extract, as it shows well
the political amenities of that age. "The Challenge which Prince
_Griffins_ Dogge called _Towzer_ hath sent to Prince _Rupert's_ Dog
whose name is _Puddle_, daring him to meet him at the Parish Garden
this present Lent to try a combate before the Worship full the Beares,
who are appointed to be their Judges in that Case.----Thou worme of
Wickednesse, fritter of Folly, spawne of doggednesse, and piece of
mungrele stuffe; in regard of thy base grumbling words and bawling
against thy betters. Besides that, is honest _Pepper_. Tobies _Dogge_
your match, no he is too milde for thee; thou should have given notice
of your Treaty and discourse to me who am thy equall, thou shouldst
have found enough of me, for I will have thee know, that I eate as
good Rumps and Kidneyes as ever thou, base Cur, dost; when I have you
at the place appointed I will so rump you, and so frump you, that I
will leave you never a rumpe nor yet a kidney, no, not with a heart as
big as a hen or chickins: I doe now with open mouth defie thee and all
thy proceedings, and doe challenge thee to meet me at the place before
mentioned, there will I fight, tug and teare thee in a single combate,
where I mean to rend thee in pieces, and be revenged on thee, base
cur. _And[F. 66] although I hear thou art impenitrable and likewise
besmeared over with inchaunted oyle, so that no weapon, bullet nor
sword can enter thee to make thee bleed_; yet I have teeth which I
have newly whetted shall so fasten and teare your German or Finland
hide limb meale, and then flea thy skin and hang it on the hedg, and
give thy pomperd flesh to those Iudges which we are to fight before,
(namely the Worshipfull the Bears), to satisfie their hungry mawes
this Lent; let me hear your dogged answer, or else I will proclaim
thee Coward in print, and set thy name upon every whipping post
&c.... Expect no favour from mee, nor will I from you; I will end the
difference. I will have no Outlandish cur domineer in our Land. _So
saith your Surley foe_ Towzer, and servant to Prince Griffin."
[Illustration]
Long after poor _Boy's_ death he was associated with Prince Rupert,
for instance [42]--
"See how the Sectists bustle now,
The Independents sturre.
London is tam'd say they; as once
Prince _Rupert_ with his curre."
_Boy_ at all events proved mortal, for he met with his death, after
escaping in many battlefields, at Marston Moor, on 2d July 1644; and
great rejoicings were made by the Puritan faction over his death. One
of the "King's Pamphlets" is entirely devoted to him [43], and from
this the accompanying engraving is taken. Here poor _Boy_, who is
environed by a hail of bullets, is represented as being "killed by a
Valliant Souldier, who had skill in Necromancy." And to keep up the
idea of his supernatural birth a witch is standing by, lamenting. The
"Elegie" commences with "P. _Ruperts_ Sorrow."
"Lament poor _Cavaliers_, cry, howl, and yelp.
For the great losse of your _Malignant Whelp_.
Hee's dead! Hee's dead: No more, alas, can he
Protect you _Dammes_, or get Victorie.
How sad that _Son_ of _Blood_ did look to hear
One tell the death of this shagg'd _Cavalier_,
Hee rav'd, he tore his Perriwigg, and swore.
Against the Round heads that hee'd ne're fight more."
It goes on with a fabulous supernatural pedigree of _Boy_.
"'Twas like a _Dog_, yet there was none did know
Whether it Devill was, or Dog, or no."