Printed at _London_ for _R. Wood_ and _A. Coe_ 1642.
[Footnote 201: _i.e._ a stupid, semi-idiot, as--
"A Dull and Muddy Mettled rascal, peak,
Like _John a dreams_, impregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing."--_Hamlet_, Act ii. Scene 2.
]
[Footnote 202: "A Jack a Lent" was a straw-stuffed image which
was shot at, beaten, thrown at, and otherwise ill-treated
during Lent. It was supposed to represent Judas Iscariot.]
[93.] There was a Gentleman that dwelt in the West Countrey, and had
staid here in London a Tearme longer than hee intended, by reason of
a Booke that _George_ (_Peele_) had to translate out of Greeke into
English: and when he wanted money, George had it of the Gentleman,
but the more he supplyed him of Coine, the further off he was from his
Booke, and could get no end of it, neither by faire meanes, entreatie,
or double payment: for _George_ was of the Poeticall disposition,
never to write so long as his money lasted; some quarter of the Booke
being done, and lying in his hands at randome.
The Gentleman had plotted a meanes to take such an order with _George_
next time he came, that he would have his Booke finished. It was not
long before he had his Company; his arrival was for more money; the
Gentleman bids him welcome; causeth him to stay dinner, where falling
into discourse about his Booke, found it was as neere ended, as he
left it two moneths ago. The Gentleman, meaning to be gul'd no longer,
caused two of his men to binde _George_ hand and foot in a Chayre: a
folly it was for him to aske what they meant by it: the Gentleman sent
for a Barber, and George had a beard of an indifferent size, and well
growne: he made the Barber shave him beard and head, left him as bare
of haire, as he was of money: the Barber he was well contented for his
paines, who left _George_ like an old woman in mans apparell: and his
voyce became it well, for it was more woman than man. _George_ quoth
the Gentleman, I have always used you like a friend, my purse hath
beene open to you: that you have of mine to translate, you know it is
a thing I highly esteeme: therefore I have used you in this fashion,
that I might have an end of my Booke, which shall be as much for your
profit as my pleasure. So forthwith he commanded his men to unbinde
him, and putting his hand into his pocket, gave him two brace of
Angels; quoth hee, Master _Peele_, drinke this, and by that time you
have finished my booke, your beard will be growne, untill which time,
I know you will be ashamed to walke abroad. _George_ patiently tooke
the gold, said little, and when it was darke night, took his leave of
the Gentleman, and went directly home: who, when his wife saw, I
omit the wonder shee made, but imagine those that shall behold their
husbands in such a case. To bed went _George_, and ere morning hee
had plotted sufficiently how to cry _quid pro quo_ with his politick
Gentleman.
George had a Daughter of the age of tenne yeeres, a Girle of a pretty
forme, but of an excellent wit: and she had _George_ so tutored all
night, that although himselfe was the Author of it, yet had hee beene
transformed into his Daughters shape, he could not have done it with
more conceit. _George_ at that time dwelt at the Banke Side from
whence this she-sinnow,[F. 203] early in the morning, with her haire
dichevalled, wringing her hands, and making such pittifull moane with
shrikes and teares, and beating of her brest, that made the people in
a maze: some stood wondring at the Childe; others plucked her to know
the occasion; but none could stay her by any meanes, but on shee kept
her journey, crying, O, her Father, her good Father, her deare Father,
over the Bridge, thorow Cheapside, and so to the Old Bailey, where the
Gentleman sojourned, there sitting her selfe downe, a hundred people
gaping upon her, there she begins to cry out, Woe to that place, that
her Father ever saw it: she was a Cast-away, her Mother was undone:
till with the noise, one of the Gentlemans men comming downe, looked
on her, and knew her to be _George Peeles_ Daughter: hee presently
runnes up, and tels his Master, who commanded his man to bring her up.
The Gentleman was in a cold sweat, fearing that George had, for the
wrong that he did him the day before, some way undone himselfe. When
the Girle came up, he demanded the cause why she so lamented, and
called upon her Father? _George_ his flesh and blood, after a million
of sighs, cried out upon him, he had made her Father, her good Father,
drowne himselfe. Which words once uttered, she fell into a Counterfeit
swoone, whom the Gentleman soon recovered. This newes went to his
heart, and he, being a man of a very milde condition, cheered up the
Girle, made his men to go buy her new cloathes from top to toe, said
he would be a Father to her, gave her five pounds, bid her go home
and carry it to her mother, and in the evening he would visit her. At
this, by little and little she began to be quiet: desiring him to come
and see her Mother. He tels her, he will not faile, bids her goe home
quietly. So downe stayres goes she peartly,[F. 204] and the wondring
people that staid at doore, to heare the manner of her griefe, had
of her nought but knavish answers, and home went she directly. The
Gentleman was so crossed in mind, and disturbed in thought at this
unhappy accident, that his soule could not be in quiet, till he had
beene with this wofull widdow, as hee thought, and presently went to
Blacke Fryers, tooke a payre of Oares, and went directly to _George
Peeles_ house, where hee found his wife plucking of Larkes, my crying
Crocadile turning of the Spit, and _George_ pinn'd up in a blanket, at
his translation. The Gentleman, more glad at the unlookt for life of
_George_, than the losse of his money, tooke part in the good cheere
_George_ had to dinner, wondred at the cunning of the Wench, and
within some few daies after had an end of his Booke.
[Footnote 203: A woman very finely dressed. "Whereas she wont
in her feathered youthfulnesse to looke with amiable eye on
her gray breast, and her speckled side sayles, all _sinnowed_
with silver guilles."--_Pierce Penilesse his Supplication to
the Divell, by Thos. Nash._ 1592.]
[Footnote 204: Briskly, lively.]
[77.] There was a great huge man 3 yards in the Waste, at _S.
Edmondsbury_ in _Suffolk_, that died but of late daies, (one _M.
Blague_ by name) & a good kinde Justice too, carefull for the poore;
this Justice met with _Tarlton_ in Norwich: _Tarlton_, said he, give
me thy hand; But you, Sir, being richer, may give me a greater gift,
give me your body! and imbracing him could not halfe compasse him:
being merry in talke, said the Justice; _Tarlton_ tell me one thing,
what is the difference betwixt a Flea and a Louse? Marry, Sir, said
_Tarlton_, as much and like difference, as twixt you and me; I like
a Flea (see else) can skip nimbly: But you, like a fat Louse creepe
slowly, and you can go no faster, were a Butcher's axe over you, ready
to knock you on the head. Thou art a knave, quoth the Justice. I, Sir,
I knew that ere I came hither, else had I not been here now, for
ever one knave (making a stop) seekes out another: the Justice
understanding him, laughed heartily.
[17.] A Gentleman had a desire to hire two resolute Ruffians to do
some exploit upon one that had abused him: A little after his man
brings him two whose faces were slasht and cut: No, says he, I'll have
none of you, but if you can bring me those men that gave you those
wounds, they are for my turn.
[4.] A Sea Captain was invited to a Hunting Match, who when he came
home related what sport he had after this manner: Our Horses, says
he, being well Rigg'd, we man'd them; and the Wind being at West South
West, (Fifteen of us in Company) away we stood over the Downs; in the
time of half a Watch, we spied a Hare under full Sail, we Tackt, and
stood after her, coming up close, she Tacks, and we Tackt, upon which
Tack I had like to run aground; but getting clear off, I stood after
her again; but as the Devil would have it, just as I was going to lay
her aboard, bearing too much Wind, I and my Horse overset and came
Heel[F. 205] upwards.
[Footnote 205: ? Keel.]
A _Leicester-shire_ Frolick;
_Or_, The Valiant Cook-Maid.
Being a merry composed Jest of Five Taylors that had been at work till
their Wages came to 5 pounds, likewise a merry conceited Cook-maid
that lived in the house, went to her Master, and desired him to lend
her a horse, and she would venture her skill to take the 5 pounds from
these five Taylors, without either Sword or Pistol, in a jesting
way, to make her Master some sport and to show her valour: her Master
loving mirth more than sadness, agreed to it; so a Horse was sadled,
and other things to disguise herself, because she might not be known:
away she went (it being in the Evening) and met them before they got
home, with nothing in her hand but a black pudding, the faint hearted
Taylors delivered her their Money very quietly, for fear they should
a been shot through with a Black Pudding, and what followed after is
expressed in the following Ditty.
Tune is Ragged & Torn.
With Allowance.
[Illustration][F. 206]
I'le tell you a pretty fine jest, [107.]
if that you do please it to hear,
For the truth on't I do protest,
I'm sure that you need not to fear:
It is of a valiant Cook-maid,
that lived at a Nobleman's place
And five Taylors that once was afraid
when as they lookt her in the face.
_O this was a valiant Cook-maid,
without either Pistol or Gun,
But with a Black Pudding did fright,
five Taylors and put them to th' run._
This Noble-man upon a time,
had great store of work for to do,
But to bring every thing into rhyme,
'twill study my brains you must know;
Five Taylors that lived hard by,
that worked for fourpence a day,
For Beef and for Pudding at night,
they'd better do so than to play.
_O this &c._
These Taylors a great while did work,
two Masters, and their three men,
They laboured as hard as a Turk,
with Stitching both too and agen;
And when that their work it was done,
their money unto them was told,
Full five good pounds it is known,
Of Silver, but not of red Gold.
_O this &c_
And when as their money they'd got,
then who was so jocond as they,
Each Man of the best drank his pot,
and homewards they straight took their way;
A Cook-Maid there was in the house,
that us'd full merry to be,
Who went to her Master in haste,
and these words unto him did say.
_O this &c._
Master, if that you please,
some pastime I for you will make
But to lend me a horse then (quoth she)
and this money I from them will take;
Her Master, then hearing the jest,
would try what this Cook-maid could do,
Some mirth he did think it the best,
as Gentlemen will do, you know.
_O this &c._
A horse then was sadled with speed,
and boots and Spurs she put on,
And other materials most fit,
because she would not be known;
A horse-back she straight got astride,
with a Hogs-Pudding in her hand,
And meeting these Taylors in haste,
she presently bid them to stand.
_O this &c_
Deliver your Money (quoth she)
or else your manhoods now try,
Or by this same thing in my hand,
every man of you shall dye;
Then out her Black-Pudding she pull'd,
which sore did the Taylors affright,
They thought it had been a Pistol well charg'd,
because 'twas late in the night.
_O this &c._
They beg'd their lives she might save,
we are but poor Taylors (quoth they)
And truly no money we have,
for we work but for four pence a day;
You lye, like all Rogues (quoth she)
and do not my patience provoke,
For 5 pounds you have tane for your work,
so presant that word did them choak.
_O this &c._.
That money deliver with speed,
if that you think well on your lives,
Or by this same thing you shall bleed,
the which will go farther than knives;
Then out of their pockets their money they took,
with many a sorrowful tear,
And gave it into her hand,
here's all on't each Taylor did swear.
_O this &c._--
And when she their money had got,
she set Spurs and away she did run,
The Devil go with you (quoth they)
for i'me sure that we are undone;
But when that this Cook-maid came home,
strait unto her Master she told,
And show'd him his money again,
how passages went she did unfold.
_O this &c._
[Illustration: The poor Taylor making his complaint to the Esquire]
But here comes the cream of the jest,
those Taylors which was such Men,
After they'd stood pausing awhile,
then back they returned again;
They came with a pittiful tone,
their hair stood like men bewitcht,
To th' Gentleman they made their moan,
for their mony their fingers it itcht.
_O this &c._
The Gentleman laugh'd in conceit,
how many was there said he,
Sure you were all men sufficient
to a beaten above two or three;
Truly we saw but one man,
the which took our Money away,
But we feared he had partakers in store,
or else he should never a carried the day.
_O this &c._
He was well mounted upon a good steed,
and a Pistol that put us to studying,
You lye like all fools (quoth she)
it was but a black Hogs-Pudding;
Thus they the poor Taylors did jeer,
and the Cook-maid laugh'd in conceit,
That with nothing but a black Pudding,
and that five Taylors did beat.
_O this &c._.
Then straightway the Gentleman spoke,
what will you give then (said he)
To have all your money again,
and the face on't once more to see:
Quoth the Taylors we'l give the ton half,
and that's very fair you do know,
Altho' that we were such fools,
to part with our good silver so.
_O this &c._
Then straitways he call'd for the Cook,
then the Taylors did laugh in their sleeve,
And set her to conjuring strait,
which made the poor Taylors believe;
That she by her art had it found,
and show'd them the place where it lay,
Which made the poor Taylors to smile,
so merry and jocand was they.
_O this &c._
Here take half the money said they,
the which we did promise to you,
And for you we ever will pray,
for such Cook-Maids there is but a few;
I'le have none of your money she said,
as sure as i'me here alive,
One may know what Cowards you are,
to let a Hogs-Pudding to fright you all 5.
_O this &c._
And thus the old Proverb is true,
nine Taylors do make but one man,
And now it doth plainly appear,
let them all do what they can;
For had they been stout hearted Lads,
they need not called for aid,
Nor afraid to tast of a Pudding,
nor yet be'n out-brav'd by a Maid.
_O this &c._