WHen first Mardyke was made a Prey,
’Twas Courage that carry’d the Fort away,
Then do not lose your Valours Prize,
By gazing on your Mistresses Eyes;
But put off your Petticoat-parley,
Potting and sotting, and laughing and quaffing Canary,
Will make a good Soldier miscarry:
And never Travel for true Renown:
Then turn to your Marshal Mistress,
Fair Minerva the Soldier’s Sister is;
Rallying and sallying, with gashing and slashing of Wounds Sir,
With turning and burning of Towns, Sir,
Is a high step to a great Man’s Throne.
Let bold Bellona’s Brewer frown,
And his Tunn shall overflow the Town;
And give the Cobler Sword and Fate:
And a Tinker may trapan the State;
Such Fortunate Foes as these be,
Turn’d the Crown to a Cross at Naseby:
Father and Mother, Sister and Brother confounded,
And many a good Family wounded;
By a terrible turn of Fate,
He that can kill a Man, thunder and plunder the Town, Sir,
And pull his Enemies down, Sir,
In time may be an Officer great.
It is the Sword does order all,
Makes Peasants rise, and Princes fall;
All Sylogisms in vain are spilt,
No Logick like a Basket-hilt:
It handles ’em joint by joint Sir,
Quilling and drilling, and spilling, and Killing profoundly,
Until the Disputers on Ground lie,
And have never a word to say;
Unless it be Quarter, Quarter, Truth is confuted by a Carter,
By stripping and nipping, and ripping and quipping Evasions,
Doth Conquer a Power of Perswasions,
Aristotle hath lost the Day.
The Musket bears so great a force,
To Learning it has no Remorse;
The Priest, the Layman, the Lord,
Find no distinction from the Sword;
Tan tarra, Tan tarra the Trumpet,
Now the Walls begin to crack,
The Councellors struck dumb too,
By the Parchment upon the Drum too;
Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub an Alarum,
Each Corporal now can out-dare ’em,
Learned Littleton goes to rack.
Then since the Sword so bright doth shine,
We’ll leave our Wenches and our Wine,
And follow Mars where-e’er he runs,
And turn our Pots and Pipes to Guns.
The Bottles shall be Grenadoes,
We’ll bounce about the Bravado’s
By huffing and puffing, and snuffing and cuffing the French Boys,
Whose Brows have been dy’d in a Trench Boys;
Well got Fame is a Warriour’s Wife,
The Drawer shall be the Drummer,
We’ll be Colonels all next Summer
By hiking and tilting, and pointing and jointing like brave Boys,
We shall have Gold or a Grave, Boys,
And there’s an end of a Soldier’s Life.
The MISSES Complaint.
Tune, Packington’s Pound.
[[Listen]]
HOW now Sister Betteris, why look you so sad?
Gillian. The times are so hard and our trading so bad,
That we in our Function no Money can gain,
Our Pride and our Bravery for to maintain.
Bett. True Sister, Gillian, I know it full well,
But what will you say if such News I do tell?
And how’t will rejoyce you, I’ll make it out plain,
Will make our Trade quick, and more Money will gain.
There’s none of the pitiful Tribe we’ll be for,
And Six-penny Customers we will abhor;
For all those that will our Dominions invade,
Must pay for their sauce, we must live by our Trade.
Gil. Good Sister if you can make this but appear,
My Spirit and Senses you greatly will chear,
But a Famine of Flesh will bring all things to pass,
Or else we are as bad still as ever we was.
Bett. Lately a Counsel of Bauds there did meet,
In Cock and Pye Alley, near Do-little Street:
And who was the Counsel, and what was there done;
I’ll make it out to you as clear as the Sun.
From Ratcliffe-highway, and from Nightingale-lane,
Their Deputies come with a very fine Train:
Unto these two Couple come long sided Sue,
Is as good as e’er twang’d, if you give her her due.
Then Tower-Ditch and Hatton-Wall sent in their Prayers,
And drest as compleatly as Horses to Fairs;
With them Jumping Jenny appear’d, as ’tis said,
Who ne’er in her Life of a Man was afraid.
The two Metropolitans came from the Park,
As arch at the Game, as e’er plaid in the Dark;
Then Lutener’s-lane a gay Couple did bring,
Two better, I think, was ne’er stretch’d in hemp-string.
There was many others from Places remote,
The which were too tedious for me here to note;
And what was their Business I here will declare,
How to keep our Trade in Repute they take care.
And first for those Ladies that walk in the Night,
Their Aprons and Handkerchiefs they should be white,
And that they do walk more in Town than in Fields,
For that is the Place most Variety yields.
And those that are over-much worn by their Trade,
Shall go in a Vessel, their Passage being paid;
The Venture of Cuckolds, ’tis called by Name,
And this is the way for to keep up our Fame.
And this is the Ship which the Cuckolds have brought,
It lies at their Haven, and is to be frought:
And thither Whores rampant, that please may repair,
With Master and Captain to truck for their Ware.
And for a Supply that our trade may increase,
For wanton Commodity it will grow less;
We’ll visit the Carriers, and take them up there,
And then for their Tutering we will take care.
In this we shall ease all the Countries to do’t,
And do our selves Pleasure and Profit to boot;
For one that is crack’d in the Country before,
In London will make a spick and span Whore.
There’s many more Precepts which they did advise,
But these which I’ll give you here shall suffice:
And when you have heard them, I think you will say,
We ne’er were more likely to thrive in our way.