There was a shaving Royster, [114.]
as I heard many tell,
In _Michal-Danes_ fair forest,
in _Gloucestershire_ did dwell;
Some call'd him _William Wiseman_,
but in that they were to blame,
Some call'd him _Leonard Lackwit_,
but that was not his name;
His name was _Simple Simon_,
as it is well approv'd,
And among his Friends and Kinsfolks,
he dearly was belov'd:
He capor'd and he vapour'd
and he liv'd a merry life,
But yet, good Man, at all times,
he could not rule his Wife.
[Illustration]
His Wife she was a Woman,
that lov'd a cup of Sack,
And she would tipple soundly,
behind her Husband's back;
A bottle she had gotten that
would hold two quarts or more,
Well fill'd with wine she hang'd it
behind her chamber door:
And she told unto her Husband
that it was poyson strong,
And bad him not to touch it,
for fear of doing wrong:
If thou drink but one drop on't,
(quoth she) 'twill end thy life;
Therefore in time take heed,
and be ruled by thy Wife.
This Simon's wife had plenty
of fatting hogs and pigs,
With geese, ducks, hens, and turkies,
that laid great store of eggs:
Both Sheep and such like cattel,
fine ews and pritty lambs,
Which up and down the forrest
did feed, and suck their dams;
She put trust to her Husband
to look unto them all,
To keep them safe from danger;
now mark what did befal:
He did his best endeavour
to shun all sorts of strife,
And yet through strange misfortune
he could not please his Wife.
One morning she sent him
to field to keep her sheep,
And charg'd him to be watchful,
and take heed he did not sleep:
A piece of bread and butter
she gave him in his hand,
Whereby she made him promise
to do as she did command.
But see what happened to him,
when he came to the field,
He fell asleep, while foxes
three of his lambs had killed:
This bred a great dissention
and rais'd a world of strife,
Till _Simon_ for his fault
had beg'd pardon of his Wife.
Another day she sent him
her ducks and geese to tend,
And charg'd him on her blessing,
he should no more offend:
Her goslins and her chickens
with him she put in trust,
Who took a stick and told them,
for they were twenty just:
But a woful chance befel to
poor _Simon_ before night,
For seven of his chickens
were took prisoners by the kite:
This vexed him, and it made him
half weary of his life,
For he knew not what answer
to make unto his Wife.
Next morning when that _Simon_
was sent to milk the cow,
Another strange mishap there was
done to him by the sow;
For whilst that he was driving
the little pigs away,
The sow came into the dairy-house
and swill'd up all the whey;
The cheese out of the cheese fat
she did both tear and hawl,
And so threw down the cream-pot,
and made an end of all:
Wherewith she burst her belly,
and so she lost her life,
And poor _Simon_ knew not what answer
to make unto his wife.
When's Wife came in the dairy-house,
and saw what there was done,
A strong and fierce encounter
she presently begun;
She pull'd him by the ears,
and she wrung him by the nose,
And she kickt him on the belly,
while the tears ran down his hose.
And she vow'd to be revenged
before the morrow day,
For all the brood of chickens,
which the kite had carried away:
Poor _Simon_ stood amazed,
being weary of his life,
For he good Man was tired
with his unruly Wife.
For when that he perceived
his Wife in such a rage,
Nor knowing how, nor which way
his fury to asswage:
He cunningly got from her,
and to the chamber went,
Thinking himself to poyson,
for that was his intent;
So coming to the bottle,
which I spoke of before,
He thought it to be poyson,
which hung behind the door:
He vow'd to drink it all up,
and end his wretched life,
Rather than live in thraldom,
with such a cursed Wife.
So opening of a window, which
stood towards the South,
He took the bottle of sack,
and set it to his mouth:
Now will I drink this poyson,
(quoth he) with all my heart;
So that the first draught he drunk on't
he swallowed near a quart:
The second time that he set
the bottle to his snout,
He never left off swigging,
till he had suckt all out:
Which done, he fell down backward
like one bereft of life,
Crying out, I now am poysoned
by means of my cursed Wife.
Quoth he, I feel the poyson
now run through every vein,
It rumbles in my belly,
and it tickles in my brain;
It wambles in my stomack,
and it molifies my heart,
It pierceth through my members,
and yet I feel no smart;
Would all that have curst wives,
example take hereby,
For I dye as sweet a death sure,
as ever man did dye:
'Tis better with such poyson,
to end a wretched life,
Than to live, and be tormented
with such a wicked Wife.
Now see what followed after,
his Wife by chance did walk,
And coming by the window,
she heard her _Simon_ talk;
And thinking on her bottle,
she up the stairs did run,
And came into the chamber,
to see what he had done;
When as she saw her Husband,
lying drunk upon his back,
And the bottle lying by him,
but never a drop of sack:
I am poyson'd, I am poyson'd,
quoth he, long of my Wife,
I hope I shall be at quiet
now I have lost my life.
Pox take you, are you poyson'd,
(quoth she) I now will strive,
And do my best endeavour
to make you run alive:
With that a quill of powder
she blew up in his nose,
Then like a man turn'd antick,
he presently arose;
So down the stairs he run straight,
into the open street,
With hooping and hollowing,
to all that he did meet;
And with a loud voice cryed out,
I am raised from death to life,
By virtue of a powder, that
was given me by my Wife.
Some folks that did behold him,
were in a grievous fear,
For seeing of a Madman,
they durst not him come near:
He leaped and he skipped,
thorow fair and thorow foul,
Whilst the people gaz'd upon him
like pyce upon an owl:
His Wife she followed after,
thorow thick, and thorow thin,
And with a basting cudgel
she soundly bang'd his skin:
And thus poor _Simon_ cryed out
I'm raised from death to life,
By virtue of a powder, that
was given me by my Wife.
At last a friend of _Simon's_
which was to him some kin,
By fair and kind persuasions,
open'd door and let him in;
He sent for _Simon's_ Wife, and
so made them both good friends,
Who kindly kist each other,
and so all discord ends;
The Neighbours all rejoyced
to see them thus agreed,
And like a loving couple
to bed they went with speed.
No doubt but _Simple Simon_
that night well pleas'd his wife,
For ever since that time, he
hath lived a quiet life.
_London_: Printed by and for _W. Onley_,[F. 222] and
_A. Melbourn_;[F. 223] and sold by the Booksellers of
_Pye Corner_ and _London Bridge_.
[Footnote 222: Published between 1650 and 1702.]
[Footnote 223: Published between 1670 and 1697.]
[93.] _George_ (_Peele_) was making merry with three or foure of his
friends in Pye Corner; where the Tapster of the house was much given
to Poetrie: for he had ingrossed The Knight of the Sunne, Venus
and Adonis, and other Pamphlets which the Stripling had collected
together; and knowing _George_ to be a Poet, he tooke great delight in
his company, and out of his bounty would bestow a brace of Cannes of
him. _George_ observing the humour of the Tapster, meant presently to
worke upon him. What will you say, quoth _George_ to his friends, if,
out of this spirit of the Cellar, I fetch a good Angell, that shall
bid us all to supper. We would gladly see that quoth his friends.
Content your selfe, quoth _George_. The Tapster ascends with his two
Cannes, delivers one to Master _Peele_, and the other to his friends:
gives them kind welcome: but _George_, in stead of giving him thankes,
bids him not to trouble him: and beginnes in these termes: I protest,
Gentlemen, I wonder you will urge me so much; I sweare I have it not
about me. What is the matter? quoth the Tapster. Hath any one angered
you? No, faith, quoth _George_, Ile tell thee, it is this: There is
a friend of ours in Newgate, for nothing but onely the command of the
Justices, and he being now to be released, sends to me to bring him an
Angell: now the man I love dearely well; and if hee want tenne Angels
he shall have them; for I know him sure: but heere's the misery,
either I must goe home, or I must be forced to pawne this; and pluckes
an old Harry-groat out of his pocket. The Tapster lookes upon it: Why,
and it please you, Sir, quoth he, this is but a groat. No, Sir, quoth
_George_, I know it is but a groat: but this groat will I not lose for
forty pound: for this groat had I of my mother, as a testimony of a
Lease of a House I am to possesse after her decease; and if I should
lose this groat, I were in a faire case: and either I must pawne this
groat, or there the fellow must lye still. Quoth the Tapster, If it
please you, I will lend you an Angell on it, and I will assure you it
shall bee safe. Wilt thou? quoth _George_; as thou art an honest man,
locke it up in thy Chest, and let me have it whensoever I call for
it. As I am an honest man, you shall, quoth the Tapster. _George_
delivered him his groat; the Tapster gave him ten shillings: to the
Taverne goe they with the money, and there merrily spend it. It fell
out, some time after, the Tapster, having many of these lurches,[F. 224]
fell to decay, and indeede was turned out of service, having no more
coine in the world than this groat, and in this misery, hee met
_George_, as poore as himselfe. O, Sir, quoth the Tapster, you are
happily met; I have your groat safe, though since I saw you last, I
have bid great extremitie; and I protest, save that groat, I have not
any one penny in the world; therefore I pray you, Sir, helpe me to my
money, and take your pawne. Not for the World, quoth George: thou
saist thou hast but that Groat in the world: my bargaine was, that
thou shouldst keepe that groat, untill I did demand it of thee: I ask
thee none. I will doe thee farre more good; because thou art an honest
fellow, keepe thou that groat still, till I call for it: and so doing,
the proudest Jacke in England cannot justifie that thou art not worth
a groat; otherwise, they might: and so, honest Michael, farewell. So
George leaves the poore Tapster picking of his fingers, his head full
of proclamations what he might doe: at last sighing, hee ends with
this Proverbe
For the price of a Barrel of Beere
I have bought a groats worth of wit,
Is not that deare?
[Footnote 224: Drains on his purse.]
[67.] In a certaine towne there was a goose stolne, and it could not
bee found, out who stole it; so y^e minister a while after at service,
bade all y^e people kneele downe, who answered I. (aye) Many did, but
saith hee, he that stole y^e goose doth not. But I doe, quoth hee, and
was taken.
[103.] An English Gentleman taking into his Service (in pure
Compassion) an Irishman, who was forc'd to leave his Country upon his
Conversion from the Romish (of which he was a Priest) to the English
Church: Employed him in Errands, and sometimes let him follow him, to
acquaint him with the Town; and having staid at a Coffee House some
time, in expectation of a Man with whom he had Business, who not
coming, he left his Servant there, to tell him that he could stay
no longer, but was gone to such a Tavern. The Fellow immediately run
after his Master, and ask'd him What he should say to the Gentleman if
he should not come?
[110.] A poore begger man, that was foule, blacke, and loathsome to
behould, came on a time to Maister _Hobson_ as he walked in Moore
feelds, and asked something of him for an almes, to which Maister
_Hobson_ said, I prethee, good fellow, get thee from me, for thou
lookst as thou camst lately out of hell. The poore begger man,
perceving hee would give him nothing, answered forsooth, Sir, you say
true, for I came lately out of Hell indeed; why didst not thou tarry
there still? quoth maister _Hobson_; nay, Sir, quoth the begger, there
is no Roome for such begerr men as I am, for all is kept for such
gentlemen Cittizens as you be: this wity answere caused Maister
_Hobson_ to give the poore man a teaster.[F. 225]
[Footnote 225: Sixpence.]
[82.] A Fellow having more drinke than wit, in a winter evening made
a foolish vowe, to take the wall of as many as hee met betwixt the
Temple bar, and Charing Crosse; and comming neere the Savoy, where
stood a Poste, a little distance from the wall, the Drunkard tooke it
for a man, and would have the wall, beginning to quarrell and give the
Poste foule words: at which a man came by, and asked the matter, and
whom he spake to: hee answered hee would have the wall of that fellow
that stood so stiffly there: my friend, said the other, that is a
Poste, you must give him the way. Is it so, said the fellow, a pox
upon him, why did he not blow his horn?
[26.] Two Baboons being to be seen at their first coming to _London_,
abundance of Citizens and others did resort thither to take a view of
them, and did heartily laugh at their ugliness, and the strange faces
which they made; which a most motherly and very discreet woman being
present, did sharply thus rebuke 'em. "D'ye think you do well to laugh
at strangers, who understand not your Language, and if you were in
their Country, you'd take it for a great abuse, I warrant you, if they
should laugh at you."
[4.] King _James_ Riding a Hunting in Essex, comes to a Gate which
he must go through, and seeing a Country Clown at it, he says to
him, Prethee, good Fellow, open the gate. But he, knowing who it was,
answered, No, a'nt please your Grace, I am not worthy to be in that
Office; but I'le run and fetch M^r _Johnson_, who is a Justice of the
Peace, and lives a Mile off, and he shall open it for your Grace: so
he ran away as fast as he could, and left the King to open it himself.