LONG MEG OF WESTMINSTER.

There can be very little doubt but that this virago was a living being, for the first edition known of her "Life and Pranks"—which was published in 1582, and which differs materially from the Chap-book version—bears internal evidence of her reality; and she must have lived in the reign of Henry VIII., for, in chapter ii. she finds, on her arrival in London, her mistress drinking with Doctor Skelton (poet laureate, who died 1529), Will Summers the King's Jester, and a Spanish knight called Sir James of Castille. As the 1582 edition does not mention her death, she might then have been alive. The Chap-book version says, "After marriage she kept a house at Islington." This may have been true, but she also seems to have had one on the Southwark side of the river, for a scarce tract, called "Holland's leaguer," etc. (London, 1632), says, "It was out of the Citie yet in the view of the Citie only divided by a delicate River: there was many handsome buildings, and many hearty neighbours, yet at the first foundation, it was renowned for nothing so much as for the memory of that famous Amazon, Longa Margarita, who had there for many years kept a famous infamous house of open Hospitality," and on the tract is a woodcut of the house. That she was well known, appears in an old book, "Pierces Supererogation, on a new prayse of the Olde Asse," by Gabriell Harvey, 1593, p. 145: "Phy, Long Megg of Westminster would have been ashamed to disgrace her Sonday bonet with her Satterday witt. She knew some rules of Decorum; and although she were a lustie bounsing rampe, somewhat like Gallemella or maide Marian, yet was she not such a roinish rannell, or such a dissolute gillian-flurtes, as this wainscot-faced Tomboy.'

It is probable from this, as speaking of her in the past tense, that she was then dead, and this is the more likely, as there is an entry in the curious diary of Philip Henslowe, proprietor of the Rose Theatre near Bankside, Southwark, relating to her. He kept a register of all the plays performed by the servants of Lord Strange and the Lord Admiral, and by other companies, between February 19, 1591-2, and November 5, 1597. Against each entry was put the sum he received as a proprietor from either a part or the whole of the galleries; so we read, "R the 14 of febreary 1594, at long mege of westmester (18[*]) l.iii. s.ix. d.o." It was performed at the theatre at Newington Butts, which Howes, in his continuation of Stowe's "Chronicles" (1631), mentions as having been there "in former time." By whom it was acted seems uncertain, as the heading reads, "In the name of God, Amen, beginning at newington my lord admirell men, and my lord chamberlen men, as followeth, 1594."

It is a singular coincidence that on this very February 14, 1594, the Registers of the Stationers' Company should have an entry: "xiiij Febr. John Danter. Entred for his Copie &c. a ballad entituled The mad merye pranckes of Long Megg of Westm(inster) ... vjd."

That the play was popular, is evidenced by the fact that in N. Field's play, "Amends for Ladies" (1618), Meg is not only mentioned, but the play is spoken of by Fee simple: "Faith, I have a good mind to see Long Meg and the Ship at the Fortune."

[*] This shows how popular the play was, as it notes it had the long run of eighteen representations.

THE WHOLE
Life and Death
OF
LONG MEG
OF
WESTMINSTER

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard.
London

Chap. 1.
Where Meg was born, her coming up to London, and
her usage to the honest Carrier.

In the reign of Henry VIII. was born in Lancashire, a maid called Long Meg. At eighteen years old she came to London to get her a service; Father Willis the Carrier being the Waggoner, and her neighbour, brought her up with some other lasses. After a tedious journey, being in sight of the desired city, she demanded why they looked sad? We have no money said one, to pay our fare. So Meg replies, If that be all, I shall answer your demands, and this put them in some comfort. But as soon as they came to St. John's Street, Willis demanded their money. Say what you will have, quoth she. Ten shillings a piece, said he. But we have not so much about us, said she.—Nay, then I will have it out of your bones.—Marry, content, replied Meg; and taking a staff in her hand, so belaboured him and his man, that he desired her for God's sake to hold her hand.—Not I, said she, unless you bestow an angel on us for good luck, and swear e'er we depart to get us good addresses.

The Carrier having felt the strength of her arm, thought it best to give her the money, and promised not to go till he had got them good places.

Chap. 2.
Of her being placed in Westminster, and what she
did at her place.

The Carrier having set up his horses, went with the lasses to the Eagle in Westminster, and told the landlady he had brought her three fine Lancashire lasses, and seeing she often asked him to get her a maid, she might now take her choice. Marry, said she I want one at present, and here are three gentlemen who shall give their opinions—As soon as Meg came in, they blessed themselves, crying

Domine, Domine, viee Originem.[*]

So her mistress demanded what was her name; Margaret, forsooth, said she briskly—And what work can you do? She answered she had not been bred unto her needle, but to hard labour, as washing, brewing, and baking, and could make a house clean—Thou art, quoth the hostess, a lusty wench, and I like thee well, for I have often persons that will not pay—Mistress, said she, if any such come let me know, and I'll make them pay, I'll engage.—Nay, this is true, said the Carrier, for my carcase felt it; and then he told them how she served him—On this Sir John de Castile, in a bravado, would needs make an experiment of her vast strength; and asked her, If she durst exchange a box o' the ear with him. Yes, quoth she, if my mistress will give me leave. This granted, she stood to receive Sir John's blow, who gave her a box with all his might, but it stirred her not at all; but Meg gave him such a memorandum on his ear that Sir John fell down at her feet.—By my faith, said another, she strikes a blow like an ox, for she hath knocked down an Ass.—So Meg was taken into Service.

[*] In the 1582 edition the passage runs, "As soon as they saw long Meg they began to smile, and Dr. Skelton in his mad merry vain blessing himself began thus,

Domine, Domine, Vid: Origin."

Chap. 3.
The method Meg took to make one of the Vicars pay
his Score.

Meg so bestirred herself, she pleased her mistress, and for her tallness was called Long Meg of Westminster.

One of the lubbers of the Abbey had a mind to try her strength, so coming with Six of his associates one frosty morning calls for a pot of Ale, which being drank, he asked what he owed? To which Meg answers, Five Shillings and Threepence.

O thou foul scullion, I owe thee but three shillings and one penny, and no more will I pay thee. And turning to his landlady, complained how Meg had charged him too much. The foul ill take me, quoth Meg, if I misreckon him one penny, and therefore, Vicar, before thou goest out of these doors, I shall make thee pay every penny; and then she immediately lent him such a box on the ears, as made him reel again. The Vicar then steps up to her, and together both of them went by the ears.—The Vicars head was broke, and Megs Cloaths torn off her back. So the Vicar laid hold of her hair, but he being shaved she could not have that advantage; so laying hold of his ears, and keeping his pate to the post, asked him how much he owed her? As much as you please said he.—So you knave, quoth she, I must knock out of your bald pate my reckoning. And with that she began to beat a plain song between the post and his pate. But when he felt such pain, he roared out he would pay the whole—But she would not let him go, until he laid it down, which he did, being jeered by his friends.

Chap. 4.
Of her fighting and conquering Sir James of Castile
a Spanish Knight.

All this time Sir James continued his suit to Meg's mistress but to no purpose. So coming in one day and seeing her melancholy, asked what ailed her? for if any one has wronged you I will requite you—Marry, quoth she, a base knave in a white sattin doublet has abused me, and if you revenge my quarrel, I shall think you love me—Where is he? quoth Sir James.—Marry—said she, he said he would be in St. George's Fields—Well, quoth he, do you and the Doctor go along with me, and you shall see how I'll pumel the knave.

Unto this they agreed, and sent Meg into St. George's Fields beforehand. Yonder, said she, walks the fellow by the windmill. Follow me, hostess, said Sir James, I will go to him. But Meg passed as if she would have gone by. Nay, stay, said Sir James, you and I part not so; I am this gentlewoman's champion, and fairly for her sake will have you by the ears—With that Meg drew her sword, and to it they went.

At the first blow she hit him on the head, and often endangered him—At last she struck his weapon out of his hands, and stepping up to him, swore all the world should not save him—O, save me, Sir, said he, I am a Knight and it is but a woman's matter; do not spill my blood. Wer't thou twenty Knights, said Meg, and was the King here himself, I would not spare thy life, unless you grant me one thing—Let it be what it will, you shall be obeyed—Marry, said she, that this night you wait on my plate at this woman's house, and confess me to be your master.

This being yielded to, and a supper provided, Thomas Usher and others was invited to make up the feast; and unto whom Sir James told what had happened.—Pho! said Usher, jeeringly, it is no such great dishonour for to be foiled by an English gentleman, since Cæsar the Great was himself driven back by their extraordinary courage. At this juncture, Meg came in, having got on her man's attire. Then said Sir James, This is that valiant gentleman whose courage I shall ever esteem. Hereupon she pulling off her hat, her hair fell about her ears, and she said I am no other than Long Meg of Westminster; and so you are heartily welcome.

At this they all fell a laughing, nevertheless at supper time, according to agreement, Sir James was a proper page; and she, having leave of her mistress, sat in state like her Majesty—Thus Sir James was disgraced for his love, and Meg was counted a proper woman.

Chap. 5.
Her usage to the Bailiff of Westminster, who came
into her Mistress's and arrested her Friend.

A Bailiff having for the purpose took forty shillings, arrested a gentleman in Meg's mistress's house, and desired the company to keep peace. She, coming in, asked what was the matter? O, said he, I'm arrested. Arrested! and in our house! Why this unkind act to arrest one in our house; but, however take an Angel, and let him go. No, said the Bailiff, I cannot, for the creditor is at the door. Bid him come in said she, and I'll make up the matter. So the creditor came in: but being found obstinate she rapped him on the head with a quart pot, and bid him go out of doors like a knave; he can but go to prison, quoth she, where he shall not stay long, if all the friends I have can fetch him out.

The creditor went away with a good knock, and the Bailiff was going with his prisoner. Nay, said she, I'll bring a fresh pot to drink with him. She came into the parlour with a rope, and knitting her brows, Sir Knave, said she, I'll learn thee to arrest a man in our house, I'll make thee a spectacle for all catchpoles; and tossing the rope round his middle, said to the gentleman, Sir, away, shift for yourself, I'll pay the bailiff his fees before he and I part. Then she dragged the bailiff unto the back side of the house, making him go up to his chin in a pond, and then paid him his fees with a cudgel; after which he went away with the amends in his hands; for she was so well beloved that no person would meddle with her.

Chap. 6.
Of her meeting with a Nobleman, and her Usage to him
and to the watch.

Now it happened she once put on a suit of man's apparel. The same night it fell out, that a young nobleman being disposed for mirth, would go abroad to see the fashions, and coming down the Strand, espies her, and seeing such a tall fellow, asked him whither he was going? Marry, said she, to St. Nicholas's to buy a calve's head. How much money hast thou? In faith, said she, little enough, will you lend me any?—Aye, said he, and putting his thumb into her mouth, said—There's a tester. She gave him a good box on the ear, and said, There's a groat, now I owe you twopence. Whereupon the Nobleman drew, and his man too; and she was as active as they, so together they go; but she drove them before her into a little Chandler's shop, insomuch that the Constable came in to part the fray, and, having asked what they were, the nobleman told his name, at which they all pulled off their caps—And what is your name? said the Constable. Mine, said she is Cuthbert Curry Knave—Upon this the constable commanded some to lay hold on her, and carry her to the Compter. She out with her sword and set upon the watch, and behaved very resolutely; but the constable calling for clubs, Meg was forced to cry out, Masters, hold your hands, I am your friend, hurt not Long Meg of Westminster—So they all staid their hands, and the nobleman took them all to the tavern; and thus ended the fray.

Chap. 7.
Meg goes a shroving, fights the Thieves of St. James's
Corner and makes them restore Father Willis the
Carrier his hundred marks.

Not only the cities of London and Westminster, but Lancashire also, rung of Meg's fame: so they desired old Willis the Carrier to call upon her, which he did, taking with him the other lasses. Meg was joyful to see them, and it being Shrove Tuesday, Meg went with them to Knightsbridge, and there spent most of the day, with repeating tales of their friends in Lancashire, and so tarried the Carrier, who again and again enquired how all did there; and made the time seem shorter than it was. The Night growing on, the carrier and the two other lasses were importunate to be gone, but Meg was loath to set out, and so stayed behind to discharge the reckoning, and promised to overtake them.

It was their misfortune at St. James's Corner to meet with two thieves who were waiting there for them and took an hundred marks from Willis the Carrier, and from the two wenches their gowns and purses.—Meg came up immediately after, and then the thieves, seeing her also in a female habit, thought to take her purse also; but she behaved herself so well that they began to give ground. Then said Meg, Our gowns and purses against your hundred marks; win all and wear all. Content, quoth they.—Now, lasses, pray for me, said Meg—With that she buckled with these two knaves, beat one and so hurt the other, that they entreated her to spare their lives—I will, said she, upon conditions.—Upon any condition, said they—Then, said she, it shall be thus:

Are you content with these conditions? We are, said they. I have no book about me, said she, but will you swear on my smock tail? which they accordingly did, and then she returned the wenches their gowns and purses, and old Father Willis the Carrier an hundred marks.

The men desiring to know who it was had so lustily be-swinged them, said, To alleviate our sorrow pray tell us your name? She smiling, replied, If any one asks you who banged your bones, say Long Meg of Westminster once met with you.

Chap. 8.
Meg's fellow servant pressed; her Usage of the
Constable; and of her taking Press Money to go to
Bologne.

In those days were wars between England and France, and a hot press about London. The Constables of Westminster pressed Meg's fellow servant and she told them if they took him her mistress was undone.

All this could not persuade the Constable, but Harry must go, on which she lent the Constable a knock—Notice being given to the Captain, he asked who struck him—Marry, quoth Meg, I did, and if I did not love soldiers, I'd serve you so too. So taking a Cavalier from a mans hand, she performed the exercise with such dexterity, that they wondered; whereupon she said, Press no man, but give me press money, and I will go myself. At this they all laughed, and the Captain gave her an Angel. Whereupon she went with him to Bologne.

Chap. 9.
Of her beating the Frenchmen off the walls of Bologne,
for which gallant behaviour she is rewarded by the
King with eight pence per Day for Life.

King Henry passing the seas took Bologne; hereupon the Dauphin with a great number of men surprised and retook it. Meg being a Laundress in the town, raised the best of the women, and with a halberd in her hand, came to the walls, on which some of the French had entered, and threw scalding water and stones at them, that she often obliged them to quit the town before the soldiers were up in arms—And at the sally she came out the foremost with her halberd in her hand to pursue the Chace.

The report of this deed being come to the ears of the King, he allowed her for life, eight pence a day.

Chap. 10.
Of her fighting and beating a Frenchman before
Bologne.

During this, she observed one who in a bravado tossed his pike; she seeing his pride, desired a drum, to signify that a young soldier would have a push at pike with him. It was agreed on, and the place appointed, life against life.

On the day the Frenchman came, and Meg met him, and without any salute fell to blows; and, after a long combat, she overcame him, and cut off his head. Then pulling off her hat her hair fell about her ears.

By this the Frenchman knew it was a woman, and the English giving a shout, she by a Drummer sent the Dauphin his soldier's head, and said, An English Woman sent it.

The Dauphin much commended her, sending her an hundred crowns for her Valour.

Chap. 11.
Of her coming to England, and being married.

The Wars in France being over, Meg came to Westminster, and married a soldier, who, hearing of her exploits, took her into a room and making her strip to her petticoat, took one staff, and gave her another, saying, As he had heard of her manhood, he was determined to try her—But Meg held down her head, whereupon he gave her three or four blows, and she in submission fell down upon her knees desiring him to pardon her—For, said she, whatever I do to others, it behoves me to be obedient to you; and it shall never be said, If I cudgel a knave that injures me, Long Meg is her husband's master; and therefore use me as you please—So they grew friends, and never quarrelled after.

Chap. 12.
Long Meg's Usage to an angry Miller.

Meg going one day with her neighbours to make merry, a miller near Epping looking out, the boy they had with them about fourteen years old, said, Put out, miller, put out.—What must I put out? said he.—A thief's head and ears, said the other.

At this the Miller came down and well licked him, which Meg endeavoured to prevent, whereupon he beat her; but she wrung the stick from him, and then cudgelled him severely; and having done, sent the boy to the Mill for an empty sack, and put the Miller in, all but his head; and then fastening him to a rope she hawled him up half way, and there left him hanging. The poor Miller cried out for help, and if his wife had not come he had surely been killed, and the mill, for want of corn, set on fire.

Chap. 13.
Of her keeping House at Islington, and her Laws.

After Marriage she kept a house at Islington. The Constable coming one night, he would needs search Meg's house, whereupon she come down in her shift with a cudgel, and said, Mr. Constable take care you go not beyond your Commission, for if you do, I'll so cudgel you, as you never was since Islington has been.—The Constable seeing her frown, told her he would take her word, and so departed.

Meg, because in her house there should be a good decorum, hung up a table containing these principles; First—If a Gentleman or Yeoman had a charge about him, and told her of it, she would repay him if he lost it, but if he did not reveal it, and said he was robbed, he should have ten bastinadoes, and afterwards be turned out of doors.

Secondly, whoever called for meat and had no money to pay, should have a box on the ear, and a cross on the back that he might be marked and trusted no more.

Thirdly. If any good fellow came in, and said he wanted money, he should have his belly full of meat and two pots of drink.

Fourthly. If any rafler came in, and made a quarrel, and would not pay his reckoning, to turn into the fields and take a bout or two with Meg, the maids of the house should dry beat him, and so thrust him out of doors.

These and many such principles, she established in her house, which kept it still and quiet.

FINIS.

MERRY FROLICKS
OR THE
Comical Cheats
OF
SWALPO
A NOTORIOUS PICK POCKET
And the Merry Pranks of
ROGER the CLOWN

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard
Bow Lane London

Nowadays, Swalpo would have made a fortune as a prestidigitateur, for his was the high art of pocket-picking, and people used to employ him to show his talents for their amusement, even after he had become virtuous, and steward to a nobleman. The frontispiece represents him meeting with a countryman at Bartholomew Fair, and cautioning him against pickpockets. The countryman tells him he has a broad piece, which he puts in his mouth. Swalpo instructs a confederate boy, who tumbles and falls down in front of the countryman, scattering a lot of change, which he held in his hand. The people round about help to pick up the money, and the boy declares he has got it all except a broad piece of gold. Swalpo then comes up, and says he saw the countryman put it in his mouth; it is discovered, and the countryman gets as badly used as a "welsher" at a race meeting.

The next engraving shows how "Swalpo steals a fine Coat from a Nobleman's back."

"The whole Company being greatly pleased with the ingenuity of the last trick, Swalpo said, Alas, gentlemen, this trick is not worth talking of, such as this, we send our boys about. There is now a Nobleman going by the door, I will wager a guinea I steal his coat from off his back before all his followers. The gentlemen staked each their guinea, and Roger and Swalpo covered them as before. Then out went Swalpo, and dogged the Nobleman to a tavern; as soon as he was conducted upstairs, Swalpo went to the barkeeper, and desired to borrow an apron for the Nobleman his master would only be served by himself; he ran so nimbly, and did everything so handily, that the Company were mightily pleased with him, taking him for a servant to the house; he never came into the room but he passed some merry jest, and when they spoke to him, his answers pleased them all mightily.

"When he found them in a good humour, he resolved not to trifle, wherefore as he waited behind the Lord's chair he took out his knife, and made a slit in the back seam of his coat, and ran downstairs for more liquor, when he returned, as soon as he came near his Lordship he started back, asking what taylor made that coat, which would not hold one day? Some of the Company rising and seeing the slash, said the taylor had affronted my Lord—Said he I paid him his price, and he shall hear of it—My Lord, said Swalpo, it is only the end of a thread has slipt, such things often happen; there is a fine drawer of my acquaintance lives in the next street, if your Lordship pleases, I will convey it under my master's cloak, and return immediately. The Nobleman borrows a great coat of one of the Company, and gave it unto Swalpo, who immediately came down to the vintner, and told him what had happened, and to prevent its being seen in the streets, desires him to lend him his Cloak. The Vintner shewed him where it was, which Swalpo put on, as also a hat which hung on the next pin; thus he walks off with them, and coming to the tavern at which the gentlemen waited, he went into a room, changed his cloaths, then returns and salutes them. Says one, Instead of a coat you come in a cloak; so then opening the cloak they were surprised to see the rich embroidered Coat. Then Roger laughed heartily; but when he told them how he had performed it, they all burst into a great laughter."

Space will only admit of one more story of his dexterity in picking pockets after notice given:—

"The Nobleman hearing of his dexterity in taking watches desired him to do it. Swalpo bid the Nobleman be on his guard; so he walked up and down the room as did also Swalpo. While the Lord was disputing warmly with some of the Company, Swalpo who watched his opportunity, gently tickles the Lord with a feather under the right ear; which makes him on a sudden quit the watch to scratch himself, and clapping his hand to his fob again, he found it gone. He looks behind him, and sees Swalpo with the watch in his hand, bowing, which occasioned much laughter."

THE
Life and Death
OF
SHEFFERY MORGAN
THE
Son of Shon ap Morgan

Newcastle; Printed in this Year

There are several editions of this book, and parts of it are amusing.

Sheffery was the son of a small farmer, and received some slight education. His father sent him to the university, where he wasted his time, and learnt nothing; but his father, considering his studies were sufficient and complete, got the promise of a living from the bishop, provided Sheffery could preach a sermon he could approve of. The day came and he knew nothing that he should say—in fact, he had not brains enough to compose a sermon—but "Sheffery no sooner enters the church, but he steps into the pulpit, and so begun as followeth. 'Good people, all hur knows, there's something expected from hur by way of Discourse, and seeing we are all met together, take the following matter as an undeniable truth; There are some things that I know and you know not, and there are some things that neither you nor I know; For thus, as I went over a stile, I tore my breeches; that I know, and you know not; but what you'll give me towards the mending of them, that you know and I know not; but what the knave the taylor will have for mending them, that neither you nor I know.'"

This sermon did not gain Sheffery his proposed living, so he started for London to seek his fortune. On the road, he joined two Welsh drovers, who asked him to help them and they would share with him the shilling they were to receive. "At last they came to Smithfield where the owner gave them a whole shilling, then was their care to part this one piece equally amongst three; Sheffery being ingenious said, 'We'll go change it for three groats:' to which they consented: So going from street to street, at last they came to Lombard Street, where Sheffery spies a tray full of groats, and cry'd Here, hur will do it, if ever. The gentleman of the shop being at dinner, the hatch was shut, and nobody in the shop but an old jackanapes chained, upon the cáunter; Sheffery leaning over the hatch said 'Good sir, will you give hur three groats for a shilling?' and held the shilling forth, which the jackanapes took, and put it down into the place where he used to see his master put money, and minded Sheffery no more; but hur was very urgent with the jackanapes for hur change; and said 'Good Sir, what does hur intent to do? Will hur give her three groats for a shilling or no; But the jackanapes not minding, stirred hur Welsh blood up, fearing that the old shentleman was minded to sheat them, which caus'd a great croud about the door, so that the gentleman of the house heard them, and coming into the shop to see what was the matter, began to be rough with them, doubting they intended to rob his shop; but they cried out, that they were poor Welshmen that thought no hurt but desired to have three groats for a shilling. The gentleman finding them to be three poor ignorant fellows, asked them for their shilling; they immediately told him they had given it to hur poor aged father. The gentleman in great wrath cry'd out, You villains, do you think I'm the son of a jackanapes. And threatening to set them by the heels; but discovering their simplicity asked them what the jackanapes did with it. Quoth they, he put it into that hole. So he supposed it might be, and gave them three groats, bidding them be gone, so away went Sheffery's countrymen to their places provided for them, but Sheffery had hur fortune to seek."

Which he did with varying success; married the widow of a physician, set up as doctor, got a wonderful reputation, and finally died, leaving his practice to his son Shon ap Morgan.

There is a Second Part to this history.

THE
WELCH TRAVELLER;
OR THE
Unfortunate Welchman

By HUMPHREY CORNISH

Newcastle. Printed in the present Year

This is another of the satires against the Welsh, which were so frequent in the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. It was written in the latter part of the seventeenth century, as the first edition shows.

"The Welch Traveller; or the Unfortunate Welchman;

"If any Gentleman do want a Man,

As I doubt not but some do now and than,

I have a Welchman though but meanly clad—

Will make him merry be he nere so sad:

If that you read, read it quite ore I pray,

And you'l not think your penny cast away.

"By Humphry Crouch.

"London printed for William Whitwood at the Sign of the
Bell in Duck Lane near Smithfield 1671."

The engraving to that edition is exactly similar to the Chap-book frontispiece.

As the frontispiece to the Aldermary edition (from which the subjoined illustrations are taken) is almost similar to "The Life and Death of Sheffery Morgan," one from a Newcastle Chap-book of about the same age has been substituted. This is a metrical story of the adventures of a Welshman who was going along star-gazing.

"For as hur gaz'd upon the Sky,

For want of better wit,

Poor Taffy fell immediately

Into a great deep pit.

"Had not a shepherd been hur friend,

And help'd hur quickly out,

Hur surely then had had an end,

Hur makes no other doubt."

Hungry and weary, he arrived at an alehouse, where the hostess gave him rotten eggs, which he cast in her face, and fled. Seeing an apple tree, he climbed it in order to assuage his hunger.

"Up into the tree hur gets,

The owner came anon,

Made hur almost besides hur wits,

A cruel fight began.

"He pelted hur with large huge stones

And hur did apples cast;

The stones did so benumb her pones

That down hur come at last."

He fled, and lying down under a hedge, saw a couple of lovers, one of whom dropped a gold ring, which he picked up and appropriated. But

"Going thro' a town, God wot,

Against some ill bred curs,

Hur shewed it to a chattering trot

Who said the ring was hers."

An altercation ensued, and it ended in their going before a justice, where the Welshman, calling the justice a "great Boobie," was sent to the stocks. Whilst there, the lovers passed him, and he told them that the woman had the ring. She was apprehended and put with him in the stocks.

"Now Taffy had his hearts desire

He had her company,

But when he did begin to jeer,

She in his face did fly."

He was released, and finding a house open and the proprietor absent, he entered and began feeding on the bacon smoking up the chimney, sitting astride of it; but fell down, bacon and all, when the owner and his wife were sitting by the fire. The man beat him severely, and he ran away. Joining some gipsies on the road, they agreed to rob the house of its bacon, by letting Taffy down the chimney with a rope. This was done.

"They let him down, to work he falls,

The bacon strait doth bind,

The gipsies up the bacon haul

And leave the fool behind."

He went to the larder and helped himself to the bread and butter, and by his sooty and begrimed appearance he frightened the maid, who thought he was the devil; and she alarmed her master, who came with a sword, but was appalled by the sight of the pseudo-fiend. He walked away, frightening the children, till the women of the town determined to drive the devil out; and sorely they beat poor Taffy, who took refuge in the church, where he was captured by the sexton, who was not afraid of him, carried before a justice, and condemned to stand for "one long hour or more" in the pillory, where the history leaves him.

JOAKS UPON JOAKS.
OR
No Joak like a true Joak.
BEING THE
Diverting Humours of Mr. John Ogle a Life
Guard Man
THE
Merry Pranks of Lord Mohun and the
Earls of Warwick and Pembroke
WITH
Rochesters Dream, his Maiden Disappointment and
his Mountebanks Speech
TOGETHER WITH
The diverting Fancies and Frolicks of Charles 2
and his three Concubines

Printed and Sold in London.

Space will only admit of a few of these "Joaks," even if their quality would permit them to be reproduced for general perusal. "Another time Ogle wanted a pair of boots which were brought to him. They fitting him he walks up and down the shop to settle them to his feet, but espying an opportunity, he ran out of the shop, and the shoemaker followed him, crying, Stop thief, stop thief—No, gentlemen, it is for a wager, I am to run in boots, and he shoes and stockings. Then, said the mob, Well done boots, shoes and stockings can never overtake thee—So Ogle got clear off with the boots."

"One time the Earl of Warwick being out late one night and in company of an officer who had an artificial leg, they went into the Dark house near Billingsgate, but by the way the wary Warwick scraped a deal of dust out of a rotten post, and as he was putting it up before several people, one asked him what that powder was good for? Warwick said, it is good for all manner of bruises, sores, and scalds. And to shew the excellency of it, he desired them to bring him a kettle of scalding hot water. Then rubbing the powder on his friends artificial leg, he put it into the water. Now, the people seeing he was not hurt, soon bought up all the powder, so that his lordship very shortly raised between three and four pounds. Soon after this a very ingenious drayman who had purchased some of the powder, being in company with some of his calling, and having laid a wager that he could put his leg into a kettle of scalding water without hurting himself. The wager being laid, he, like a cunning dog, got into a private room, to rub the powder of rotten post upon his leg. Which done, he returns to the kitchen, and plunged his leg into the kettle of scalding hot water which made him roar out like a town bull, and what was worst, he had like to have lost his leg."

Lord Pembroke was once playing the fool with a woman of low degree, when she persuaded him to strap her child upon his back, which when done, she ran away, and left him the child to take care of.

The frontispiece is supposed to represent the following scene:—"The Earl of Rochester being out of favour at the Court took private lodgings on Tower Hill, where being in disguise, he set up a mountebank's stage upon the hill, and spoke to the Mob in the following manner.

"Gentlemen and Ladies.

"Here is my famous Unguentum Aureum, or Golden Ointment, so very famous for curing all kinds of distempers in men, women and children. Look here, good people, this is my noble Tinctura Hyperboriacorum prepared only by myself. This will make the blind to see, the deaf to hear and the dumb to speak; nay there is nothing can restore life so soon as this; for with three drops of this tincture I restored a gentleman to life who had lost his head seven years; but he being a state criminal, the Emperor made me fly to Germany for my great exploit; Therefore I am come here to seek my fortune, with my incomparable and famous tincture, which cures all manner of sickness, hectick fever, jaundice, looseness, megrims, and all other distempers incident to mankind," etc.

THE
HISTORY
OF
Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough.
AND
William of Cloudeslie.

Who were three Archers good enough

The best in the North Country.

Newcastle: printed in this present year.

This Chap-book follows the old poem very closely, and, in its main facts, is almost identical with an edition of 1550.[*]

The story is briefly as follows:—Of the three outlaws, only one, William of Cloudeslie, was married, and he longed to see his wife and children at Carlisle. He went, was welcomed by his wife, but was betrayed to the sheriff by an old woman whom he had kept out of charity over seven years. His house was surrounded, and, as no entrance could be forced, it was set on fire. William let down his wife and children out of a back window, and at last he was compelled to sally forth in order to escape being burnt. He was overcome and captured, and sentenced to be hanged next day. A little boy heard of this, and ran and told Adam Bell and Clim, who went to Carlisle, and, in spite of fearful odds against them, rescued William when on his road to execution. They performed prodigies of valour, killed the justice, and sheriff, and hundreds of the citizens, and finally got clear off. William's wife joined them, and, fearful of the consequences of their deeds, they set off at once to London to sue for pardon from the king. At first he would not hear of it, but at the queen's intercession he relented and pardoned them, just before a letter arrived from Carlisle narrating their evil doings. The pardon could not be recalled, but the king, having heard of their wonderful shooting, determined that they should beat all his archers or die. William did so, by cleaving a hazel wand at four hundred paces, and then shooting an apple off his son's head at a hundred and twenty paces. The king was so struck with these marvellous feats that—

"Now God forbid, then said the King,

That thou should shoot at me.

I give thee Eighteen pence a Day,

And my Bow shalt thou bear,

Yea, over all the North Country,

I make thee Chief Keeper.

Ill give thee Thirteen pence a Day,

Said the Queen, by my fay

Come fetch the payment when thou wilt

No man shall say thee Nay.

William, I make thee Gentleman,

Of Clothing and of Fee,

Thy Brethren of my Bedchamber

For they are lovely to see.

Your Son, for he's of tender age,

Of my Cellarists shall be;

And when he comes to Man's Estate

Better preferr'd shall be;

And William bring your wife, said she,

I long full sore to see;

She shall be chief Gentlewoman

To govern my Nursery."

It will be seen from the foregoing short description, that the frontispiece has nothing to do with the book. It is very evidently belonging to some history of Robin Hood, as he is represented in the centre at the top, having on one side either the Bishop of Carlisle or the Abbot of St. Mary's, and on the other the beggar, tinker, or shepherd who thrashed him, while at the bottom are Little John, Friar Tuck, and Maid Marian.

[*] "Adam bel Clym of the cloughe and wyllyym of cloudesle. (colophon) Imprinted at London in Lothburye by Wyllyam Copland." Black letter.

A
TRUE TALE
OF
ROBIN HOOD.

Printed and sold in Aldermary Church Yard
London

Whilst the poems and ballads on Robin Hood are more plentiful than on any other Englishman, the Chap-books are comparatively scarce, probably on account of the impossibility of condensing his numerous adventures and exploits into the conventional twenty-four pages. There are several editions printed in London, all having similar engravings, of which, however, but three or four belong properly to the work, which are reproduced below, the first being Robin Hood and the Abbot of St. Mary.

"He bound the Abbot to a tree,

And would not let him pass

Before that to his men and he,

His Lordship had said Mass."

The next is Robin's attack on the Bishop of Ely.

"He riding down towards the North,

With his aforesaid train

Robin and his men did issue forth,

Them all to entertain.

And with the gallant grey goose wing,

They shew'd to them such play,

That made their horses kick and fling,

And down their riders lay.

Full glad and fain the Bishop was,

For all his thousand men,

To seek what means he could to pass

From out of Robin's ken.

Two hundred of his men were kill'd,

And fourscore horses good,

Thirty who did as captives yield,

Were brought to the Green Wood—

Which afterwards were ransomed

For twenty marks a man,

The rest set spurs to horse and fled

To the town of Warrington."

And there is the representation of the treacherous monk bleeding him to death.

"This sad perplexity did cause

A fever as some say,

Which him into confusion draws,

Tho' by a stranger way.

This deadly danger to prevent,

He hy'd him with all speed

Unto a Nunnery with intent

For health's sake there to bleed.

A faithless friar did pretend

In love, to let him blood,

But he by falsehood wrought the end

Of famous Robin Hood."

THE
HISTORY
OF THE
BLIND BEGGER
OF BEDNAL GREEN.

Young Monford Riding to the Wars where he unhapily lost his Eyesight

Licensed and Enterd according to Order

Printed for T. Norris, at the Looking-Glass on London Bridge.

The illustrations to this very scarce Chap-book are evidently of earlier date than 1715, to which it is assigned, and, with the exception of the one of the blind beggar and his dog, have probably very little to do with the letter-press. The frontispiece is more likely to represent "Prince Rupert and his dogge Pudle" than "Young Monford Riding to the Wars." The ballad is well known, and extremely popular in England; it was written in the reign of Elizabeth, to commemorate the tradition of Henry de Montfort, a son of Simon de Montfort, the famous Earl of Leicester, founder of the House of Commons, who was slain at the battle of Evesham, August 4, 1265. His son, Henry, who was left for dead on the field, was found, according to the ballad, by a baron's daughter, who had come to search for her father, but finding young Montfort half dead and deprived of sight by his wounds, she "was moved with pitye and brought him awaye."

"In secret she nurst him, and swaged his paine,

While hee through the realme was beleev'd to be slaine;

At length his faire bride she consented to bee,

And made him glad father of prettye Bessee.

And now lest oure foes oure lives sholde betraye,

Wee clothed ourselves in beggar's arraye;

Her jewelles shee sold, and hither came wee;

All our comfort and care was our prettye Bessee."

The Chap-book differs somewhat in detail from the ballad. It places the time in the wars with France, and the scene itself in France, whither Monford went, accompanied by his wife in man's attire. He was wounded and blind, and was discovered on the field by his wife and servant, and on his recovery to health they all returned to England; but his relations, for some unknown reason, treated him very coldly, and this their high spirits could not brook, so it ended in their settling down at Bethnal Green, where she spun and he turned beggar.

Here a professional beggar named Snap introduced himself to him, and "invited him to their Feasts, or Rendezvouse in White chappel, whither he having promised to come, and they between them tipp'd off four black Pots of Hum, they at that time parted." His wife took him to the "rendezvouse," where he not only thoroughly enjoyed himself, but the beggars presented him with a dog trained to the business.

Soon after this pretty Betty was born, and at fifteen years of age was a marvel of beauty, and a paragon of accomplishments. Betty then left her parents, and obtained a situation at an inn at Rumford, where she found plenty of lovers, all of whom, except the knight, withdrew their pretensions to her hand when they heard she was only the daughter of a blind beggar. The knight, however, was constant, and they had just set out together to see old Monford, when the knight's uncle came up, and, having followed them, created a scene at the beggar's residence, when, to end it, Monford proposed to give angel for angel with the knight's uncle, as a fortune for the young people. The uncle's servant was sent for coin, and the two old gentlemen set themselves to their task of dropping angels against each other; but the beggar kept producing cats' skins filled with gold, and beat the knight's uncle. This money was made up to £3000 by Monford, who also gave Bessie "a hundred more to buy her a gown." Monford declared his pedigree; everybody was pleased and happy, and the young couple were duly married.

The young Knight that Married pretty Betty

THE HISTORY OF THE
BLIND BEGGAR
Of Bethnal Green;
SHEWING
His Birth and Parentage.

His going to the Wars, losing his sight, and turning Beggar at Bethnal Green. Of his getting Riches, and the Education of his Daughter; who is courted by a young Knight.—Of the Beggar's dropping Gold with the Knight's Uncle.—Of the Knight's Marriage with the Beggar's Daughter; and the Discovery of his famous Pedigree.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard
Bow Lane London

"The Beggar Trav'lling with his Dog,

Brings home good store of Wealth to prog

With which he does outvie the Knight,

And weds his Child to her delight."