Come, and doe not musing stand, [55.]
if thou the truth discerne,
But take a full cup in thy hand,
and thus begin to learne,
Not of the earth, nor of the ayre,
at evening or at morne,
But, joviale boyes, your Christmas keep
_with the little Barly-Corne_.
[Illustration]
It is the cunningst Alchymist,
that ere was in the Land,
Twill change your Mettle when it list
in turning of a hand,
Your blushing Gold to Silver wan,
your Silver into Brasse,
Twill turn a Taylor to a man
_and a man into an ass_--
Twill make a poore man rich to hang
a signe before his doore,
And those that doe the Pitcher hang,
tho rich, twill make them poore;
Twill make the silliest poorest Snake[F. 74]
the King's great Porter[F. 75] scorne;
Twill make the stoutest Lubber weak,
_this little Barley Corne_.
It hath more shifts than _Lambe_[F. 76] ere had,
or _Hocus Pocus_ too,
It will good fellowes shew more sport
than _Bankes_[F. 77] his horse could doe:
Twill play you faire above the boord,
unless you take good heed,
And fell you though you were a Lord,
_and iustifie the deed_.
It lends more yeeres unto old Age,
than ere was lent by Nature,
It makes the Poet's fancy rage,
more than Castalian water;
Twill make a Huntsman chase a Fox,
and never winde his Horn,
Twill cheere a Tinker in the stockes,
_this little Barly-Corne_.
It is the only Will o' th' wispe
which leades men from the way,
Twill make the tongue ti'd Lawyer lisp
and naught but (hic-up) say.
Twill make the Steward droope and stoop
his Bils he then will scorne,
And at each post cast his reckning up,
_this little Barly-Corne_.
Twill make a man grow jealous soone,
whose pretty Wife goes trim,
And raile at the deceiving Moone
for making hornes at him:
Twill make the Maidens trimly dance,
and take it in no scorne,
And helpe them to a friend by chance;
_this little Barly-Corne_.
It is the neatest Serving man
to entertaine a friend,
It will doe more than money can,
all iarring suits to end:
There's life in it, and it is here,
'tis here within this Cup,
Then take your liquor; doe not spare,
_but cleare carouse it up_.
If sicknesse Come, this Physick take
it from your heart will set it,
If feare incroach, take more of it,
your heart will soon forget it:
_Apollo_ and the Muses nine,
doe take it in no scorne,
There's no such stuffe to passe the time,
_as the little Barly-Corne_.
Twill make a weeping Widdow laugh,
and some incline to pleasure;
Twill make an old man leave his staffe
and dance a youthfull measure:
And though your clothes be nere so bad,
all ragged, rent, and torne,
Against the Cold you may be clad
_with the little Barly Corne_.
Twill make a Coward not to shrinke,
but be as stout as may be,
Twill make a man that he shall thinke.
that _Jone's_ as good as my Lady:
It will inrich the palest face,
and with Rubies it adorne,
Yet you shall thinke it no disgrace,
_this little Barly Corne_.
Twill make your Gossips merry,
when they their liquor see,
Hey, we shall nere be weary,
sweet Gossip, here's to thee:
Twill make the Country Yeoman
the Courtier for to scorne,
And talk of Law suits ore a Can,
_with this little Barly Corne_.
It makes a man that write cannot
to make you large Indentures,
When as he reeleth home at night,
upon the watch he ventures:
He cares not for the Candle light
that shineth in the horne,
Yet he will stumble the way aright,
_this little Barly-Corne_.
Twill make a Miser prodigall,
and shew himselfe kind hearted
Twill make him never grieve at all,
that from his Coyne hath parted:
Twill make a Shepheard to mistake
his Sheepe before a storme:
Twill make the Poet to excell,
_this little Barly-Corne_.
It will make young Lads to call
most freely for their Liquor,
Twill make a young Lass take a fall,
and rise againe the quicker:
Twill make a man that he
shall sleepe all night profoundly,
And make a man what ere he be
_goe about his businesse roundly_.
Thus the Barly-Corne hath power
even for to change our nature,
And make a Shrew within an houre,
prove a kind-hearted creature:
And therefore here I say againe
let no man tak't in scorne,
That I the vertues doe proclaim
_of the little Barly-Corne_.
Printed in London for E. B.
[Footnote 73: For tune, see Appendix.]
[Footnote 74: ? Sneak.]
[Footnote 75: William Evans, a Welshman in the service
of Charles I. He was 7 ft. 6 in. high and at a masque at
Whitehall drew Sir Jeffrey Hudson out of his pocket. There
used to be a bas-relief over Bull's Head Court in Newgate
Street, of "The King's Porter and Dwarf."]
[Footnote 76: Dr. John Lambe was an impostor who early in the
17th century practised fortune-telling, juggling, showing a
magic crystal, and recovering stolen goods. He was indicted
at Worcester for witchcraft, after which he removed to London,
where he got into trouble, and he was finally pelted to death
by an infuriated mob on 13th June 1628. There is a very
rare pamphlet on this subject--"A brief description of the
notorious life of John Lambe, otherwise called Dr. Lambe,
together with his ignominious death, with a wood-cut of the
populace pelting him to death in the City of London." 4^o
1628.]
[Footnote 77: Banks was a Scotchman, and his performing horse
had the rare honour of being alluded to by Shakspeare ("Love's
Labour's Lost" Act i. s. 2). Moth says to Armado. "Why Sir,
is this such a piece of study? Now here's three studied, ere
you'll thrice wink; and how easy it is to put years to the
word three, and study three years in two words, _the dancing
horse will tell you_." The horse was certainly wonderfully
trained, and is spoken of in Tarlton's Jests, as having picked
him out as being the biggest fool in the company. His tricks
were marvellous, but perhaps his most noted feat was riding up
the steeple of St. Paul's in the year 1600. This feat is
mentioned in the following books. Decker's Dead-Tearme--Owle's
Almanack, 1618--The Meeting of Gallants at an Ordinarie, or
the Walkes in Powles, 1604--The Blacke Booke, 1604--Northward
Hoe, 1607--Rowley's Search for Money, 1609--Decker's Gul's
Horn-book, 1609--and His Jests to make you merie, 1607. The
horse afterwards went a continental trip, where he excited
great wonder, and his high training was put down to
witchcraft. Indeed a rumour was spread about that both he and
his master were burnt for sorcery; but this was not so, for
in Charles I.'s reign mention is more than once made of Banks
being a vintner in Cheapside. The horse's name was Marocco,
and there was a very curious book printed in 1595, called
"Maroccus extaticus or Bankes Bay Horse in a Trance," etc.]
_The Tanner and the Butcher's dogge._
[52.] A Country Tanner that was runing hastily through Eastcheape and
having a long Pike-Staffe on his shoulder, one of the Butchers dogs
caught him by the breech. The fellow got loose, and ranne his pike
into the Dogs throat, and killed him. The Butcher seeing that his
Dog was kill'd tooke hold of the Tanner, and carried him before the
Deputy, who asked him, What reason he had to kill the dogge? For mine
owne defence (quoth the Tanner). Why, quoth the Deputy, hast thou
no other defence but present death? Sir, quoth the Tanner, London
fashions are not like the Countries, for here the stones are fast in
the streets, and the Dogs are loose, but in the Country, the dogs are
fast tied, and the stones are loose to throw at them; and what should
a man do in this extremity, but use his staffe for his own defence?
Marry (quoth the Deputy) if a man will needs use his staffe, he might
use his blunt end, and not the sharp pike. True, Master Deputy, quoth
the Tanner, but you must consider, if the Dog had used his blunt end,
and runne his taile at me, then had there good reason for me to do
the like; but I vow Master Deputy, the Dogge came sharpe at me, and
fastned his teeth in my breech, and I again ranne sharp at him, and
thrust my pike into his belly. By my faith a crafty knave, quoth the
Deputy, if you will both stand to my verdict, send for a quart of
wine, be friends, and so you are both discharged.
_Cede majoribus._
I took the wall, one rudely thrust me by, [5.]
And told me the high way did open lye,
I thankt him that he would mee so much grace,
To take the worse and leave the better place.
For if by owners we esteem of things
The wall's the subject's, but the way the King's.
[32.] What is the most profitable beast, and that men eat least on?
_Solution._ It is a Bee, for it maketh both hony and wax, and yet
costeth his master nothing the keeping.
Mr. _Button_ being dead, [12.]
He was so fat, one said
That his Grave was three foot o're;
Why, you talk like a Fool,
'Tis but a Button-hole
To Graves I have made before.
[54.] Act 1. s. 6. Dame Purecraft. Win the fight Littlewit (her
daughter) John Little wit (a Proctor, Win's husband) Zeal of the land
Busy (a _Banbury_[F. 78] man suitor to Dame Purecraft.)
_Purecraft._ Now the blaze of the beauteous discipline, fright away
this evill from our house! how now _Win the fight_, Child: how do you?
Sweet child, speake to me.
_Win._ Yes forsooth.
_Pure._ Looke up, sweet _Win the fight_, and suffer not the enemy to
enter you at this doore, remember that your education has bin with the
purest; what polluted one was it, that nam'd first the uncleane beast,
Pigge, to you, Child?
_Win._ Uh, uh.
_John._ Not I, o' my sincerity, mother; she long'd above three houres,
ere she would let me know it; who was it _Win_?
_Win._ A prophane blacke thing with a beard, John.
_Pure._ O! resist it, _Win the fight_, it is the Tempter, the wicked
Tempter, you may know it by the fleshly motion of Pig; be strong
against it, and its foule temptations, in these assaults, whereby it
broacheth flesh and blood, as it were, on the weaker side, and pray
against its carnall provocations, good child, sweet child, pray.
_John._ Good mother, I pray you, that she may eate some Pigge, and her
bellyfull too; and doe not you cast away your owne child, and perhaps
one of mine, with your tale of the Tempter: how doe you, _Win_? Are
you not sicke?
_Win._ Yes, a great deale _John_ (uh, uh).
_Pure._ What shall we doe? call our zealous brother _Busy_ hither, for
his faithfull fortification in this charge of the adversary; childe,
my dear childe, you shall eate Pigge; be comforted, my sweet childe.
_Win._ I,[F. 79] but i' the _Fayre_, mother.
_Pure._ I meane i' the _Fayre_, if it can be any way made, or found
lawfull; where is our brother _Busy_? Will hee not come? looke up,
Child.
_John._ Presently, mother, as soone as he has cleans'd his beard. I
found him fast by the teeth, i' the cold Turkey pye, i' th' cupbord,
with a great white loafe on his left hand, and a glasse of _Malmesey_
on his right.
_Pure._ Slander not the _Brethren_ wicked one.
_John._ Here hee is, now, purified, Mother.
_Pure._ O brother _Busy_! your helpe heere to edifie, and raise us up
in a Scruple, my daughter _Win the fight_ is visited with a naturall
disease of women; call'd A longing to eate Pigge.
_John._ I, Sir, a _Bartholomew_[F. 80] pigge; and in the _Fayre_.
_Pure._ And I would be satisfied from you, Religiously-wise, whether a
widdow of the sanctified assembly, or a widdowes daughter, may commit
the act, without offence to the weaker sisters.
_Busy._ Verily, for the disease of longing, it is a disease, a carnall
disease, or appetite, incident to women: and as it is carnall, and
incident, it is naturall, very naturall: Now Pigge, it is a meat, and
a meat that is nourishing, and may be long'd for, and so consequently
eaten; it may be eaten; very exceeding well eaten; but in the _Fayre_,
and as a _Bartholomew_-pig it can not be eaten, for the very calling
it a _Bartholomew_-pigge, and to eate it so, is a spice of _Idolatry_,
and you make the _Fayre_ no better than one of the high _Places_.
This, I take it is the state of the question. A high place.
_John._ I, but in a state of necessity, _Place_ should give place Mr
_Busy_. (I have a conceit left, yet)
_Pure._ Good brother _Zeale of the land_, thinke to make it as lawfull
as you can.
_John._ Yes, Sir, and as soone as you can; for it must be, Sir; you
see the danger my little wife is in Sir.
_Pure._ Truely, I doe love my child dearely, and I would not have her
miscarry or hazard her first fruites if it might be otherwise.
_Busy._ Surely, it may be otherwise, but it is subject to
construction, subject, and hath a face of offence, with the weake, a
great face, a foule face, but that face may have a vaile put over it
and be shaddowed, as it were, it may be eaten, and in the _Fayre_, I
take it, in a Booth, the tents of the wicked: the place is not much,
not very much, we may be religious in midst of the prophane, so it
be eaten with a reformed mouth, with _Sobriety_, and humblenesse; not
gorg'd in with gluttony, or greedinesse; there's the feare: for
should she goe there, as taking pride in the place, or delight in the
uncleane dressing, to feed the vanity of the eye, or the lust of the
palat, it were not well, it were not fit, it were abominable, and not
good.
_John._ Nay, I knew that afore, and told her on't, but courage, _Win_,
we'll be humble enough; we'll seek out the homeliest Booth i' the
_Fayre_, that's certaine; rather than faile, wee'll eate it o' the
ground.
* * * * *
_Busy._ In the way of comfort to the weake, I will goe, and eat. I
will eate exceedingly, and prophesie; there may be a good use made of
it, too, now I thinke on't; by the publike eating of Swines flesh, to
professe our hate, and loathing of _Iudaisme_, whereof the brethren
stand taxed; I will therefore eate, yea, I will eate exceedingly.
[Footnote 78: A synonym for a Puritan, as Butler says in
_Hudibras_--
"Through Banbury I passed, O profane one,
And there I saw a Puritane one
Hanging of his Cat on Monday
For killing of a Rat on Sunday."
]
[Footnote 79: I is frequently used for ay.]
[Footnote 80: It was the proper thing to eat roast sucking pig
at Bartholomew fair.]
_Why women weare a fall._
A question 'tis why women weare a fall, [5.]
The truth it is to pride they are given all,
And pride the proverbe saies must have a fall.
A Gentleman did say [12.]
On the last Twelf-day,
That Cheese digests ev'ry thing;
Y'are dispos'd to jest,
And will ne're be at rest,
But at all will have a fling.
I'le say't o're agen
Nay, before any Men,
That it causes a good digestion;
You'l jest on still,
Let me say what I will,
Though you ne're are askt the Question.
[32.] What is it that goeth to the water, and leaveth its guts at
home? _Solution._ It is a pillow beer,[F. 81] for when it goeth to
washing, the pillow and the feathers be left at home.
[Footnote 81: Pillow case.]
[17.] Two Widdows sitting by the fire, were chatting together of their
dead Husbands; and one said, come, let us have another candle, for my
poor Husband lov'd light, God send him Light ever lasting; and
says the other; My poor Husband lov'd a good fire, I wish him Fire
everlasting.
[26.] A Young Country Fellow went a Wooing to a Country Lass, and he
had on then a speck and Span new Suit with Silver Buttons also; and in
all his Discourse with her, he used all the Art he could, to have
her take notice of his Buttons; at last when he saw she would take no
Notice of them at all: _Well_, says he, _these Silver Buttons keep me
so warm_: _Yes_, says she, _you had best lie in them all night, lest
you should take cold this frosty weather._
The poore man payes for all.
This is but a dreame which here shall insue,
But the Author wishes his words were not true.
To the Tune of _In slumbring sleepe I lay_.
[Illustration]
As I lay musing all alone [56.]
upon my resting bed,
Full many a cogitation
did come into my head:
And waking from my sleepe, I
my dreame to mind did call,
Methought I saw before mine eyes,
_how poore men payes for all_.
I many objects did behold,
in this my frightfull Dreame,
A part of them I will unfold;
and though my present Theame
Is but a fancy you may say,
yet many things doe fall
Too true alas; for at this day
_the poore man payes for all_.
Methought I saw (which caused my care)
what I wish were a fable,
That poore men still inforced are
to pay more than they are able;
Me thought I heard them weeping say,
their substance was but small,
For rich men will beare all the sway,
_and poore men pay for all_.
Me thought I saw how wealthy men
did grind the poore mens faces,
And greedily did prey on them,
not pittying their cases:
They make them toyle and labour sore,
for wages too too small:
The rich men in the Tavernes rore,
_but poore men pay for all_.
Methought I saw an Usurer old
walke in his Fox-fur'd gowne,
Whose wealth and eminence control'd
the most men in the Towne:
His wealth he by extortion got,
and rose by others fall,
He had what his hands earned not,
_but poor men pay for all_.
Me thought I saw a Courtier proud,
goe swaggering along,
That unto any scarce allow'd
the office of his tongue:
Me thought wert not for bribery,
his Peacocks plumes would fall,
He ruffles out in bravery,
_but poor men pay for all_.
Me thought I met (sore discontent)
some poore men on the way,
I asked one whither he went,
so fast, and could not stay?
Quoth he, I must go take my Lease,
or else another shall,
My Landlords riches doe increase,
_but poore men pay for all_.
Me thought I saw most stately wives
go jetting[F. 82] on the way,
That live delightfull idle lives,
and go in garments gay:
That with the men their shapes doe change,
or else they'l chide and brawle,
Thus women goe like monsters strange,
_but poore men pay for all_.
Me thought I was i' th' countrey
where poore men take great paines,
And labour hard continually,
onely for rich mens gaines:
Like th' Israelites in _Egypt_,
the poore are kept in thrall,
The task-masters are playing kept,
_but poore men pay for all_.
Me thought I saw poore Tradesmen
i' th' City and else where,
Whom rich men keepe as beads-men,
in bondage, care, and feare:
Thei'l have them worke for what they list,
thus weakest goe to the wall,
The rich men eate and drinke the best
_but poore men pay for all_.
Me thought I saw two Lawyers base
one to another say,
We have had in hand this poore mans Case,
a twelvemonth and a day;
And yet wee'l not contented be
to let the matter fall,
Beare thou with me, & Ile beare with thee
_while poore men pay for all_.
Me thought I saw a red-nose Oast,
as fat as he could wallow,
Whose carkasse, if it should be roast,
would drop seven stone of tallow:
He grows rich out of measure,
with filling measure small,
He lives in mirth and pleasure,
_but poore men pay for all_.
And so likewise the Brewer stout,
the Chandler and the Baker,
The Mault man also without doubt,
and the Tobacco taker,
Though they be proud and stately growne,
and beare themselves so tall,
Yet to the world it is well knowne,
_that poore men pay for all_.
Even as the mighty fishes still,
doe feed upon the lesse;
So rich men, might they have ther will
would on the poore man ceaze[F. 83]
It is a proverbe old and true,
that weakest goe to th' wall,
Rich men can drinke till th' sky looke blue,
_but poore men pay for all_.
But now, as I before did say,
this is but a Dreame indeed,
Though all dreames prove not true, some may
hap right, as I doe reade.
And if that any come to passe,
I doubt this my Dreame shall;
For still tis found too true a case,
_that poore men pay for all_.