At plays, and at sermons, and at the sessions,
’Tis daily their practice such booty to make;
Yea, under the gallows, at executions,
They stick not the stare-abouts’ purses to take.
Nay, one without grace,
At a better place,
At court, and in Christmas, before the king’s face.
Alack! then, for pity, must I bear the curse,
That only belongs to the cunning cut-purse.
Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,
Than live to be hanged for stealing a purse.
But O, you vile nation of cut-purses all,
Relent, and repent, and amend, and be sound,
And know that you ought not by honest men’s fall,
Advance your own fortunes to die above ground.
And though you go gay
In silks as you may,
It is not the highway to heaven (as they say.)
Repent then, repent you, for better, for worse;
And kiss not the gallows for cutting a purse.
Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,
Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse.
While Nightingale sings this ballad, a fellow tickles Cokes’s ear with a straw, to make him withdraw his hand from his pocket, and privately robs him of his purse, which, at the end of the song, he secretly conveys to the ballad-singer; who, notwithstanding his “Caveat against Cut-purses,” is their principal confederate, and, in that quality, becomes the unsuspected depository of the plunder.
Littlewit tells his wife, Win, of the great hog, and of a bull with five legs, in the Fair. Zeal-of-the-land loudly declaims against the Fair, and against Trash’s commodities:—“Hence with thy basket of popery, thy nest of images, and whole legend of ginger-work.” He rails against “the prophane pipes, the tinkling timbrels;” and Adam Overdoo, a reforming justice of peace, one of “the court of Pie-powders,” who wears a disguise for the better observation of disorder, gets into the stocks himself. Then “a western man, that’s come to wrestle before my lord mayor anon,” gets drunk, and is cried by “the clerk o’ the market all the Fair over here, for my lord’s service.” Zeal-of-the-land Busy, too, is put with others into the stocks, and being asked, “what are you, sir?” he answers, “One that rejoiceth in his affliction, and sitteth here to prophesy the destruction of fairs and may-games, wakes and whitsun-ales, and doth sigh and groan for the reformation of these abuses.” During a scuffle, the keepers of the stocks leave them open, and those who are confined withdraw their legs and walk away.
From a speech by Leatherhead, preparatory to exhibiting his “motion,” or puppet-show, we become acquainted with the subjects, and the manner of the performance. He says, “Out with the sign of our invention, in the name of wit; all the fowl i’ the Fair, I mean all the dirt in Smithfield, will be thrown at our banner to-day, if the matter does not please the people. O! the motions that I, Lanthorn Leatherhead, have given light to, i’ my time, since my master, Pod, died! Jerusalem was a stately thing; and so was Nineveh and The City of Norwich, and Sodom and Gomorrah; with the Rising o’ the Prentices, and pulling down the houses there upon Shrove-Tuesday; but the Gunpowder Plot, there was a get-penny! I have presented that to an eighteen or twenty pence audience nine times in an afternoon. Look to your gathering there, good master Filcher—and when there come any gentlefolks take twopence a-piece.” He has a bill of his motion which reads thus: “The Ancient Modern History of Hero and Leander, otherwise called, the Touchstone of True Love, with as true a Trial of Friendship between Damon and Pythias, two faithful Friends o’ the Bank-side.” This was the motion written by Littlewit. Cokes arrives, and inquires, “What do we pay for coming in, fellow?” Filcher answers, “Twopence, sir.”
“Cokes. What manner of matter is this, Mr. Littlewit? What kind of actors ha’ you? are they good actors?
“Littlewit. Pretty youths, sir, all children both old and young, here’s the master of ’em, Master Lantern, that gives light to the business.
“Cokes. In good time, sir, I would fain see ’em; I would be glad to drink with the young company; which is the tiring-house?
“Leatherhead. Troth, sir, our tiring-house is somewhat little; we are but beginners yet, pray pardon us; you cannot go upright in’t.
“Cokes. No? not now my hat is off? what would you have done with me, if you had had me feather and all, as I was once to-day? Ha’ you none of your pretty impudent boys now, to bring stools, fill tobacco, fetch ale, and beg money, as they have at other houses? let me see some o’ your actors.