Dead and Alive.
This Ditty out of Gloucestershire was sent,
To London, for to have it put in Print;
Therefore draw near, and listen unto this,
It doth concern a Man that did Amiss;
And so to shun the Anger of his Wife,
He thought with Poyson for to end his Life,
But instead of Poyson he drank Sack,
For which his Wife did soundly pay's back—
To the Tune of Old Flesh &c.—
[114.]There was a shaving Royster,
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.
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,[222] and A. Melbourn;[223] and sold by the Booksellers of Pye Corner and London Bridge.
[222] Published between 1650 and 1702.
[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,[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?
[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 ye minister a while after at service, bade all ye people kneele downe, who answered I. (aye) Many did, but saith hee, he that stole ye 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.[225]
[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 Mr 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.
The French Dancing-Master
AND THE
ENGLISH SOLDIER.
Or, the Difference betwixt Fidling and Fighting
Displayed in a Dialogue betwixt an Englishman
and a Frenchman.
Englishman.
[115.]Monsieur, good morn, whither away so faste?
Some great importance sure doth cause this haste;
Your running looks do in effect thus say,
Monsieur is gone, 'cause Landlord asketh pay.
Frenchman.
Begar me no sush man, me scorn de shift
Me plus Affaires dat me from home do lift.
Englishman.
You scorn to shift, tis true I think you say,
Witness your Shirt, not washt this many a day.
Frenchman.
Par me foy de Rascall to degrase,
Ne autre man in de varle live in such case;
Begar though me no speak si bon English,
Me thrush Tord in de belly if de speak dis;
Begar me de born Gentil-man de France
Me can learn English a le mode de Dance:
Me play ode leetle Fidle, me can sing,
Par ma foy, no Poet Orphus sush Musick bring;
Begar, you no sush man in all de England have,
For de Fidle, and de Dancing brave.
Englishman.
But when you come to meet your Foe in face
The Fidler and the Fidler's out of case.
Frenchman.
Begar de art Jack-napes to a teetle,
Me be brave Fellow, me can feight a leetle;
Me wear Feader in de Hat, me have Tord by side,
Me be de Gentil-man when me on de Horse ride;
Englishman be a Clown, make Leg like a de Beare,
Frenchman be de Gentil-man, he fidle, and he dance rare.
Englishman.
'Tis true, in dancing you do us excel,
But can you, as the English, fight as well?
When Mars unsheaths his Sword, and Canons roar,
And men lye welt'ring in their purple gore,
When Towns are burnt, and Cities are destroy'd,
To what use will your Dancing be employ'd?
Frenchman.
Begar he de great Fool to speak sush ting,
Brava, brava, de Dance, de Fidele, Sing;
No sush ting in de varle, to peepe, to dance,
To be dreass like de Madam, a le Mode France.
Englishman.
Brave Monsieur! gallant Monsieur! wondrous rare!
Fidling and fooling, none with thee compare!
Frenchman.
Begar, he be de Rogue, de Villain, de Carle,
To speak 'gainst de Dance, de brave ting in de varle;
Begar me do love it out of all de Cry,
Par ma foy he speak 'gainst it, tell loud lye:
France-man is de Gentilman in de high Sphere,
Vat is de Clown vas dis skip de Angleterre
De French Monsieur skip and leap like de Spright,
He caper and kick, is not dat a rare Shite?
Englishman.
A rare Shite 'tis indeed, I needs must say,
To see men skip like Puppets in a Play;
To act the Mimick, fidle, prate and Dance,
And cringe like Apes, is a le mode France:
But to be resolute, one to fight with ten,
And beat them, 's proper unto English men.
Frenchman.
Begar France man is couragio, feight like te Tiffell,
He kill, he slay, cutt men off de midle;
De brave Monsieurs, de Oliver, de Rowland,
Begar de feight as long as de could stand;
Amadis de Gaule, de Roy Charlemain,
De make blood run down like drops of de rain,
Begar, with new fashion so exc'lent! so rare!
No men in de varle wid de French make compare.
Englishman.
But Monsieur, have you never heard report
Of Poictiers, Crescy, and of Agen-court?
When France was drown'd with streams of Frenchmen's blood,
And English Valor could not be withstood?
Sixth Henry in Paris Crown'd in State,
And France (submissive) did on England wait.
When only Talbot's Name did bear such sway,
To make Ten thousand French men run away?
Is not France, and the Nation still the same,
Whom England did in all Encounters tame?
Have we not Hero's still who are endu'd
With Valor, (Stars of the first Magnitude?)
Yorks Duke, Brave Albemarle, equal to those
Our Ancestors, who French men did oppose?
With other Worthies of deserved Fame,
Make Frenchmen tremble for to hear their Name.
Frenchman.
Begar dis true, de English-man speak right,
France leave to Dance, and now de learn to Fight.
Adieu Monsieur.
London, Printed in the Year 1666.
[103.] A Nobleman often hunting, used to be always near his Huntsman, who was an excellent old Servant, and one of whom he priz'd, and was often familiar with; but at coming to a Hedge or Ditch, he wou'd call him, Jack do you leap first. Not I by G—, my Lord, (reply's he) do you go first and break your Neck, if you please, I value mine a little more.
[82.] A Countrey woman at an Assize was to take her oath against a party; the said party entreated the Judge that her oath might not bee taken; the Judge demanded why he excepted against her: my Lord (quoth hee) shee is a Recusant or Romane Catholique, and they hold it in no matter of Conscience to swear any thing against us. Come hither, woman, said the Judge, I doe not thinke thou art a Recusant, I am perswaded that for fourty shillings thou wilt sweare the Pope is a knave: Good, my Lord, said shee, the Pope is a stranger to mee, but if I knew him as well as I know your Lordship, I would sweare for half the mony.
[116.] The following satire is given merely as a type:
From Commonwealth Coblers, and zealous State Tinkers,
From Speeches and Expedients of Politick Blinkers,
From Rebellious Taps, and Tapsters, and Skinkers.
Libera nos.
From Elephant Baptists, and their doughty free State,
From looking in Newgate through Reformation Grate,
And from their last sayings and Hempen-ruff Fate.
Libera nos.
From Papists on one hand, and Phanatick o' th' t'other,
From Presbyter Jack, the Popes younger brother,
And Congregational Daughters far worse than their Mother.
Libera nos.
From Religions that teach men to kill and to slay,
From faith that is coupled with the word Disobey,
And from Sectaries e'er having of another day.
Libera nos.
From Members that constantly quarrel with the Head,
And subjects that for Sterling, pay their Sovereign with Lead,
And preserve Kings and Governments by wishing them dead.
Libera nos.
From over short Parliaments, and over long,
From a selling our Birth rights for an old song,
And breaking Mag. Charta to make it more strong.
Libera nos.
From taking away Juries by Parliament Votes,
And securing from Popery by cutting of throats,
From a Beam in our Eye, to cure them of Motes.
Libera nos.
From "Vox"es, and factious saucy Addresses,
To repeal those good Laws of honest Qu. Bess'es
From Fanaticks rage, and the Popes God bless us.
Libera nos.
From a Bill that to take away Ale and Cake voices,
Robs all the old Freeholders, at Elections, of Choices,
And enables Fanaticks to make greater Noises.
Libera nos.
From the wisdom of Bedlam, and the anger of Fools,
From the whipping and learning of meeting house Schools
And the Exit of Traytors, and Commonwealth Tools.
Libera nos.
Of the following satire only a portion is given, as the pamphlet (of ten pages) is too long to give in extenso:—
[117.] Received out of the Treasuries of the Excize, Customs and the Exchequer £430,000.
Disbursed as followeth
The Accompt.
| L. | S. | D | ||
| Imprimis. | For three and twenty long Cloaks, at Seven Pounds Ten Shillings, per Cloak, to cover the Committee[226] of Safety's Knavery. | 243. | —. | — |
| Item. | For Six Dozen of large fine Holland Handkerchiefs, with great French Buttons, for the Lord Fleetwood, to wipe away the Teares from his Excellencies Cheeks, at Twenty Shillings per Handkerchief. | 72. | —. | — |
| Item | Paid his young Daughters Musick-Master, and Dancing Master, for fifteen Moneths Arrears, due at the Interruption of Parliament | 59. | 5. | — |
| Item | For four rich Mantles for his Lady, two lac'd and two embroidered, and a brave New Gown, made to congratulate her Husband's new Honor. | 270. | —. | — |
| Item | Bestowed by her Order, upon the Journey men Taylors, and given to him that brought home and tryed on the said Gown, seven pieces in gold. | 7. | 14. | — |
| Item | For an innumerable company of Pectoral Rolls and Lozenges, to dry up his Excellencies Rheum, at two pence a piece | 30. | 2. | 2 |
| Item | For two Rolls of Spanish Tobacco for Colonel Sydenham, at twenty shillings per pound, according to the Protectors rate, and five black Pots to warm Ale in, at twelve pence a piece, together with ten Groce of glaz'd Pipes, at nine shillings the groce. | 45. | 13. | 4. |
| Item | For two gilt Horn bookes for his great son, at two shillings, sixpence a piece | 5. | — | |
| Item | laid out for seven rich new Gowns, bespoke at Paris for the Lady Lambert, to be worn seven several dayes one after another, at her Husbands coming to the Crowne, every Gown valued at Sixty pound, one with the other | 480. | —. | — |
| Item | for Pins and Gloves for the said Lady | 83. | 9. | — |
| Item | for vamping Colonel Clarks Riding boots, and for new Spur Leathers &c &c &c &c— | 10. | —. | — |
[226] A committee of 23, which was inaugurated on 26th October 1659 to take upon themselves the exercise of the Government, till another form of Government should be agreed upon, which they declared should never be in single hands again, as a Chief Magistrate, a King, or even the House of Lords.
Parody was almost unknown, but the following will serve as an example:—