University of Virginia Library

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THE Long Vacation.

But why should such Civility,
Be, dear Sir Long-shanks, paid to thee?
Unless I would to World present,
My little Skill in Complement;
Just like two Kings in Play we read in,
Who both spoke French to show their Breeding;

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For there is no great alteration
Between the Term and Long Vacation;
The difference is scarce a Tester
'Twixt Terms of Hilary or Easter,
Or Michaelmas or Trinity,
Compar'd with Gains we find in thee:
True, at those times we keep a stir
In famous Hall of Westminster,
In torn Bar-Gowns we loudly bawl,
And Eccho murmurs through the Hall,
In Tryals mix our Sense with Jokes
On John a Stiles and John a Nokes;
Not Plough-Man sweats so much as we
To get a Clients Guinea Fee;
But as in Holy Writ we find,
That God the first Eternal mind,
When by his word, the whole Creation,
Had in six Days receiv'd Formation,
Is said to Rest; so 'tis but best fit
Mankind should have some kind of respit.

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Now Judges with a mighty Train
Of Tipstaves, Clerks and other Men,
Go by Their Majesties Command
To scatter Justice round the Land,
Bold Malefactors Crimes to Punish;
And Country Folks with Law astonish,
Who gaping stand at each Assises
To hear 'em Try their Nisi Prises;
Tho of their Sense they've no discerning,
Yet they admire their mighty Learning,
And wonder how in words such force is,
To fetch the Mony from their Purses;
Mean while Atturneys and their Clerks,
By Tricks of Law and other Querks,
Bleed the fat Purse of Country Yeoman,
And run at all like Sheep in Common,
Pick up the Pence from every Giver,
As at Church Door does Poors Receiver,
And will no kind of Fees Disown,
From Guinea to the Clipt Half-Crown;
But if the Client has no Ryno,
Full well the World, and you and I know,
The cause is in as bad Condition,
As is a Soul in sad Contrition

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In middle World, and's left no Pence,
To Priest to Pray him out from thence.

See how in droves on Pads and Tits,
The Road is fill'd with Scampring Cits,
For Tunbridg, Epsom, and such places,
To Drink, and Bowl, and Lose at Races;

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But still the greatest part repair
To the fam'd Mart call'd Sturbridg-Fair,
Their tarnisht Wares before them gon down,
Which were not Vendible in London;
While Country Chapmen from each Quarter,
Pay down the Cole, or Trade by Barter:
Poor Catholick to pay his Vow,
Through parching Heat and Frost & Snow,
Cannot with more Devotion go
To fam'd Loretto's Shrine; or that
Of blessed Lady Mountferrat,
Than Tradesmen down to Marts and Fairs,
Or any place where Gain Repairs;
Mony and Blood in this agree,
When they'r in Circulation free,
A Healthful Corps and Purse ensues,
But both are sick when both we lose.

Others on Nags in Smithfield bought,
(Who at's return's not worth a groat)
Or else on Fifteen Pence a side,
In mighty hast from London Ride;
They Ride not forth for Air and Sun,
Their business is the Gentle Dun,

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To this great Lord or Knight or 'Squire;
But they may Dapple soundly Tire,
And Ride full many tedious Miles
Before the tempting Guinea Smiles;
But here's a Christian Comfort still,
If not their Purse, their Wems they fill:
Did they at first their Errand tell,
They might be Kickt or Cudgell'd well;
No, they are Treated all like Lords,
With choicest Foods the Shire affords;
Nor can each Meal of Plenty fail,
Of choicest Wines or strongest Ale;
(Tho after all this mighty Cheer,
Is not th'effect of Love but Fear)
And can the Dun be so ill-bred,
When with such mighty Welcom sped,
To whisper in the Ears of any,
My business is, I come for Mony?
No, there is certainly a Spell
In Eating and in Drinking well,
When from our Purse it draws no Pence;
And tho with grumbling Minds from thence,
They Prosecute their Journey home,
This Pleasure to their thoughts does come,

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No Thieves can them from Mony Sever,
Tho they may Stand, they can't Deliver,
So jogging on persue their Journey,
Like Client Fleec'd by Sharp Atturney.

'Thas been a word this Fourscore Years,
Talk of the Dev'l and he appears,
Which Sentence if it e're was true,
It must most certainly be now:
Lo, on the Road before our Faces,
On Pads with most uneven Paces,
Twenty Atturneys of that swarm,
Who flock from Norfolk to the Term,
With Hearts all Light, and Purses Swelling,
Jog home to their respective Dwelling;
Not Cæsar (when his Foes o'recome)
Could with more Triumph enter Rome,
Than they, along the Rode in State,
Lookt big and did of Causes Prate,
Contriving as they sat on Crupper
What they should have that Night for Supper,
What Fowl was scarce, what Fish was Dearest,
And where was Sold the Wine was Clearest;
Resolving since the Term was over,
To Feast themselves and live on Clover,

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And nobly gratify their Bellies,
As did the Emperour Vitellius.

From them about some three Miles distance
Helpt by their Horses lame Assistance,
A crew of Tatter'd Clients trot on,
Not one of which had good Coat got on,
But did exactly represent,
The talkt of Ragged Regiment,
And by their looks 'twas plainly seen,
Their Pockets had small Coin within;
Strange 'tis that ev'ry one we look at
Should know the want of Cole in Pocket,
For the Face carries strange Reports,
When Bag and Purse is out of Sorts:
These did not talk with what fine Cates,
They should Regale themselves and Mates,
Nor did they talk of Partridg, Plover,
Or of strange Dish from France brought over,
They with their Stomachs were no Jesters,
Nor talkt of Fish with Shrimps and Oysters;
But Minds most Pensive entertain
With thoughts where they that night should gain
Domestick Bread and Cheese and Butter,
To satisfy loud Colons clutter,

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Cursing all Lawyers where they met any,
Repeating o're the Devil's Litany
For all the Pen and Parchment Fighters,
From Judges down to Hackney Writers.

Not far from thence in Country Village,
Renown'd for Husbandry and Tillage;
Encircled round with Clowns was sate
A Spark just come to his Estate,
Whilst lib'rally they Drink and Eat all,
Upon the Charge of Young Sir Treat-all;

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Extolling to the very Skies
His bounteous Liberalities:
One who'd more breeding than the rest Sir,
In a large Bowl, to's Noble Master,
Begins a Health, which each one follows
With hoarse loud shouts and rustick hollows,
Whilst he with Pride puft up, does swell
As big as Midnight Constable
Amongst his Watchmen clad in Flannel;
So he by ev'ry Country Spaniel
Is fawn'd upon, while each pretends
To Honour him for their own ends.

What shew on yonder Hill appears?
They seem a Troop of Mountaneers,
And by the swiftness of their Pace
To be of the true Irish Race,
They yelp, they bawl, they hoop, they hollow,
And each one cries out follow, follow;
But when they something nearer came,
I found them Sportsmen of the Game,
Who Hunting lov'd above their Vi'tels,
And cry of Hounds 'fore Lutes and Fiddles.
'Twas now about the dawn o'th' Even,
And they had been at th'sport since seeven

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Th' Morning, all that time employing,
Themselves, with Hunger much anoying,
Receiving falls and blows and knocks Sir,
In chase of a damn'd stinking Fox Sir,
Which they with much more triumph Kill'd
Than e're did Tamberlane i'th' Field,
When his Victorious Foot he set,
Upon the Neck of Bajazet.
I must confess I lookt with wonder,
But never shall with pleasure under-
Stand where in truth the mighty sense is,
In Riding over Hedges, Fences,
Stiles, Ditches, Five-bar-gates and Bogs,
After a crew of Yelping Dogs,
Indang'ring still my Life, which bears
More value than ten Thousand Hares;
A Leg or Arm is often Cur'd,
But no Man's Neck was e're Ensur'd;
Yet each Man best his Pleasure knows,
As th' Woman said, who pickt her Toes.

But now 'tis time we should be gone,
And leave the Country for the Town;
My Muse and I with easy pace,
Tow'rd London now have set our Face:

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But had you seen, as we took notice,
Of such a numerous train of Coaches,
Both Hackney, Stage, and those of Gentry,
Who had upon the Road made entry,
Calashes made by Workmens Art,
A much more modish sort of Cart;
And ev'ry one of these 'forenam'd,
With Folks as thick as Bee-hives cram'd;
Or had you likewise seen beside,
The numerous company that Ride
On Long-tails, Bob-tails, Trotters, Pacers,
Pads, Higlers, Hawkers, Hunters, Racers,
Who did with Whip and Spur repair,
To tast the Countries purer Air,
You would have almost took your Oath,
That Pestilence, or Fire, or both,
Could be the only sole occasion
Of leaving City Habitation;
But all our fears were fled to tell ye,
When we arriv'd at Peccadilly,
We found the Streets with People swarm,
As if it were in height of Term,
And tho so many thousands gone,
There scarce was miss of them in Town;

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However 'twas my first desire
To visit Hall of Westminster,
Where oft till two a Clock I've staid,
Starving my Guts to feed my Head
With scraps of Law and bits of Lattin,
(Oh! what a Bliss is Learned Prating)
Into that School-house of the Law,
I entred with a kind of Awe,
Which when more strictly I survey'd,
It lookt like Garison decay'd;
For tatter'd Flags from Ireland brought
Did very much improve the Thought;
No Judges learned in the Law,
Nor Serjeants who choice Pleadings Draw,
Nor Councel who can split a Hair,
Were seen on Bench or at the Bar;
Not one Atturney with his Bags,
Stuft full of Law, or Rogues in Rags,
We justly Pettifoggers call,
Were to be seen about the Hall;
No Affidavit-Men, nor those
In Temple-Walk with Straws in Shoes;
The Lawyers and their Hangers on,
Like Rats from falling House were gone;

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But where the Sages of the Law
Did use to sit, were Boys at Taw,
And Folks with Plums and Ginger-bread
Stood where the Learned Counsel Plead,
And Country Folks to shew their Manners,
Stood bare to view the Irish Banners;
Pert Sempstress with her what d'ye buy Sir?
Did nodding on her Elbow lye Sir,
And Bookseller long time may snort,
Before he's askt for Cook's Reports;
The place appear'd so Melancholy,
To stay there longer was a folly,
Therefore did most convenient judg it,
To Lincolns-Inn on Foot to trudg it;
But when I came to Charing-Cross,
Sitting on Steps by Horse of Brass,
Saw Splitcause the Solliciter,
Expecting, like some humble Cur,
What scraps or bones would fall for Dinner;
Taking compassion on the Sinner,
To Cellar gave him Invitation,
Where instantly he took occasion
To cram his Guts with Beef and Pudding,
Which for two days had had no Food in;

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His Belly fill'd and Bones at rest,
He told me that with Interest
He would repay the Obligation
I shew'd him in the Long Vacation,
And had he had but Cole in Pockets,
He'd take me instantly to Lockets,
And fill my Skin with old Burgundy,
But he would not forget me one day:
Seeming to like his grateful Humour,
We parted, when just 'gainst the Rummer,
I met a very honest Croney,
Who values, just like Dirt, his Mony;
But by his sad dejected looks,
I found his Purse was off the Hooks,
To meet (as ev'ry Mortal well-knows)
A Man with Stockins out at Elbows,
His Linnen foul, and Cloaths all torn in,
With Hands and Face in Nat'ral Mourning,
Informs a Man, beyond all doubt,
The World and he are fallen out:
He seem'd amaz'd when first I met him;
But since I was resolv'd to Treat him,
Consented, and to drown all Sorrow,
All anxious thoughts about to morrow,

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Drank Bumpers Supernaculum,
To better Luck for time to come;
Strange power of Wine, whose sprightly Juice,
Can a new kind of Soul infuse:
My Friend had now forgot his Cares,
And for a chearful Song prepares;
Nay, thought himself as great to th'full,
As is the Indian Great Mogull:
But I not willing the Delusion
Should bring his Senses to Confusion,
Soon sent him Home in Hackney-Coach,
To keep him from a worse Debauch.

Walking along the Strand, a Strange
Young Spark salutes me by th' Exchange:
I knew him not, yet he'd pretend
To be my Servant and my Friend,
And that as well we knew each other,
As if the one was t'others Brother:
Amaz'd I stood in strange suspense;
But he with Air of Impudence,
‘Cry'd, surely Sir you can't forget
‘Our last Intreague in Surry-street,
‘When amongst Ladies half a Dozen,
‘You only did select my Cousin;

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‘She's a brisk Tit, and Sir you know it,
‘(Then begs my Ear) could you allow it,
‘To lend me Sir, but half a Crown,
‘I should be yours more than my own;
I straight survey'd my Spark all o're,
Having ne're seen his Face before,
Instead of lending him a George,
Kickt him and made him walk at large.

From thence I met with no Adventure,
Until I did the Temple Enter;
Which come to, with amazement saw
A brisk pretender to the Law,
Who was in Term-time all men know
A mighty Dressing Sparkish Beau,
And would with Tooth-Pick fixt in Mouth,
Stand three full hours by th' Clock in troth
At Temple-Gate, with Roguish Leering,
Ogling all women who came near him;
But now by some strange turn of Fate
Reduc'd to very mean Estate;
His Beaver was reduced to Caster,
And Nekcloath hardly worth a Tester,
Tuckt in within a tatter'd Wastcoat,
O're which, a Coat was once a Lac'd-Coat;

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A Wigg so full of Knots and Stains,
As if't had seen a score Campaigns,
And all the other Cloaths he wore,
Like those we mentioned just before:
Surpriz'd I was, I must confess,
At such an odd and uncouth Dress;
Whether 'twas Gaming, Whoring, Drinking
Reduc'd him, thought not worth my thinking;
So passing on to King's-Bench Walk,
Survey'd a Num'rous crew were Talk-
Ing, hither, thither, to and fro,
As if they'd little else to do:
Poor Pettifogging Pimps o'th' Law,
Trav'lers who ne're Salt-water saw,
Alsatian Biters and their Cullies,
Pretended Wits and Sharping Bullies,
Projectors and their Undertakers,
News Writing 'Squires and Ballad Makers,
Were Walking here this Long-Vacation,
To give their thoughts some Recreation.

Here the Author broke off Abruptly, being engag'd for several Weeks to Visit his Friends in the Country.

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Nay, I myself must take my leave
Of Cowly, Waller, Oldham, Cleave-

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Land, and beloved Hudibrass,
To study Actions on the Case,
And leave my Thought ere made an end on't,
To think of Plaintiff and Defendant;
And so farewell all Recreation
In this Dull, Tedious, Long Vacation.