Rafe. London, to thee I do present the merry Month of May,
Let each true Subject be content to hear me what I say:
For from the top of Conduit head, as plainly may appear,
I will both tell my name to you, and wherefore I came here.
My name is Rafe, by due descent, though not ignoble I,
Yet far inferiour to the flock of gracious Grocery.
And by the Common-counsel of my fellows in the Strand,
With gilded Staff, and crossed Skarfe, the May-lord here I stand.
Rejoyce O English hearts, rejoyce, rejoyce O Lovers dear;
Rejoyce O City, Town, and Countrey, rejoyce eke every Shire;
For now the [fr]agrant flowers do spring and sprout in seemly sort,
The little Birds do sit and sing, the Lambs do make fine sport,
And now the Burchin Tree doth bud that makes the Schoolboy cry,
The Morrice rings while Hobby horse doth foot it featuously:
The Lords and Ladies now abroad for their disport and play,
Do kiss sometimes upon the Grass, and sometimes in the Hay.
Now butter with a leaf of Sage is good to purge the blood,
Fly Venus and Phlebotomy for they are neither good.
Now little fish on tender stone, begin to cast their bellies,
And sluggish snails, that erst were mute, do creep out of their shellies,
The rumbling Rivers now do warm for little boys to paddle,
The Sturdy Steed, now goes to grass, and up they hang his saddle.
The heavy Hart, the blowing Buck, the Rascall and the Pricket,
Are now among the Yeomans Pease, and leave the fearful thicket.
And be like them, O you, I say, of this same noble Town,
And lift aloft your velvet heads, and slipping of your gown:
With bels on legs, and napkins clean unto your shoulders ti'de,
With Scarfs and Garters as you please, and Hey for our Town cry'd:
March out and shew your willing minds, by twenty, and by twenty,
To Hogsdon or to Newington, where Ale and Cakes are plenty.
And let it nere be said for shame, that we the youths of London,
Lay thruming of our caps at home, and left our custom undone.
Up then I say, both young and old, both man and maid a Maying
With Drums and Guns that bounce aloud, and merry Taber playing.
Which to prolong, God save our King, and send his Countrey peace,
And root out Treason from the Land, and so my friends I cease.
Finis Act. 4.
Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima.
Enter Merchant solus.
Merch. I will have no great store of company at the wedding, a couple of neighbors and their wives, and we will have a Capon in stewed broth, with marrow, and a good piece of beef, stuck with Rose-mary.
Enter Jasper[,] his face mealed.
Jasp. Forbear thy pains fond man, it is too late.
Merch. Heaven bless me: Jasper?
Jasp. I, I am his Ghost
Whom thou hast injur'd for his constant love:
Fond worldly wretch, who dost not understand
In death that true hearts cannot parted be.
First know thy daughter is quite born away,
On wings o[f] Angels: through the liquid Ayre
Too far out of thy reach, and never more
Shalt thou behold her face: But she and I
Will in another world enjoy our loves,
Where neither fathers anger, poverty,
Nor any cross that troubles earthly men
Shall make us sever our united hearts,
And never shall thou sit, or be alone
In any place, but I will visit thee
With gastly looks, and put into thy mind
The great offences which thou didst to me.
When thou art at thy Table with thy friends,
Merry in heart, and fild with swelling wine,
I'll come in midst of all thy pride and mirth,
Invisible to all men but thy self,
And whisper such a sad tale in thine ear,
Shall make thee let the Cup fall from thy hand,
And stand as mute and pale as Death itself.