All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet Being Sixty and three in Number. Collected into one Volume by the Author [i.e. John Taylor]: With sundry new Additions, corrected, reuised, and newly Imprinted |
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A London Serieant and Jaylor.
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 | All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet |  |
10
A London Serieant and Jaylor.
The Argvment.
A brace of Hell hounds that on earth doe dwell,That tyrannize on poore mens bodies more.
(If more they could, then diuels o're soules in hell:
Whose musicke is the groanings of the poore.
These when they buy their office, sell their soules,
No Cormorants are such deuouring fowles.
The
Serieant I before the Jaylor name.
Because he is the dog that hunts the game:
He worries it, and brings it to the toyle,
And then the Jaylor liues vpon the spoyle.
I'ue knowne a Serieant that foure houres hath sate,
Peeping and leering through a tauerne grate,
His Yeoman on the other side the way,
Keeping the like watch both for one poore prey:
Whō when they spide, like Mastiffs they come neere him
And by the throat like cruell curs they teare him;
If he hath money to the Tauerne straight,
These sucking purse-leaches will on him wait;
But if his stocke below, and's pockets dry,
To th'Iayle with him, there let him starue and dye.
Yet for all this a Serieant is deuout.
For he doth Watch and prey much out of doubt.
He sels no spice, and yet in euery place
He's halfe a Grocer, for he liues by's mace:
He's part a Gentleman, for vp and downe,
Their steps he followes round about the towne.
And yet he seemes a Iugler too by this,
He oft from shape to shape so changed is:
As sometimes like an Amsterdammian brother,
Sometimes a Porters shape, sometimes another.
Sometimes t'a Counsellour at law, and then,
T'a lame and blinded begger, and agen
T'a Country Seruingman that brings a Deere,
And with these trickes his prey he doth come neere,
Wherein he imitates the Diuell aright,
Who can put on an Angels shape of light,
That so his craft may on mens soules preuaile.
So Serieants snare mens bodies for the Iaile,
Time was, he wore a proper kind of coat,
And in his hand a white rod as a note
Whereby a man farre off a knaue might spy,
And shun him if he were in jeopardy.
But now to no such habit he is bound,
Because his place ne're cost him eight score pound,
To get the which againe, he must disguise
And vse a thousand shifts and villanies.
Oh that a man so little grace should haue
To giue so much to be esteem'd a knaue.
To be shau'd. duck'd, and vnpittyed dye,
Curst and contemn'd within his graue to lye.
To hazard soule and body, ne're to thriue,
But by mens harmes, deuouring them aliue.
To be the hang-mans guard, and wait vpon
The Gallowes at an Execution,
But yet the office is most fit to fee,
And fit that honest men should haue it free.
Because he is the dog that hunts the game:
He worries it, and brings it to the toyle,
And then the Jaylor liues vpon the spoyle.
I'ue knowne a Serieant that foure houres hath sate,
Peeping and leering through a tauerne grate,
His Yeoman on the other side the way,
Keeping the like watch both for one poore prey:
Whō when they spide, like Mastiffs they come neere him
And by the throat like cruell curs they teare him;
If he hath money to the Tauerne straight,
These sucking purse-leaches will on him wait;
But if his stocke below, and's pockets dry,
To th'Iayle with him, there let him starue and dye.
Yet for all this a Serieant is deuout.
For he doth Watch and prey much out of doubt.
He sels no spice, and yet in euery place
He's halfe a Grocer, for he liues by's mace:
He's part a Gentleman, for vp and downe,
Their steps he followes round about the towne.
And yet he seemes a Iugler too by this,
He oft from shape to shape so changed is:
As sometimes like an Amsterdammian brother,
Sometimes a Porters shape, sometimes another.
Sometimes t'a Counsellour at law, and then,
T'a lame and blinded begger, and agen
T'a Country Seruingman that brings a Deere,
And with these trickes his prey he doth come neere,
Wherein he imitates the Diuell aright,
Who can put on an Angels shape of light,
That so his craft may on mens soules preuaile.
So Serieants snare mens bodies for the Iaile,
Time was, he wore a proper kind of coat,
And in his hand a white rod as a note
Whereby a man farre off a knaue might spy,
And shun him if he were in jeopardy.
But now to no such habit he is bound,
Because his place ne're cost him eight score pound,
To get the which againe, he must disguise
And vse a thousand shifts and villanies.
Oh that a man so little grace should haue
To giue so much to be esteem'd a knaue.
To be shau'd. duck'd, and vnpittyed dye,
Curst and contemn'd within his graue to lye.
To hazard soule and body, ne're to thriue,
But by mens harmes, deuouring them aliue.
To be the hang-mans guard, and wait vpon
The Gallowes at an Execution,
But yet the office is most fit to fee,
And fit that honest men should haue it free.
Now for the other sucking diuell, the Iaylor
His work's brought to him, as he were a Taylor,
As if he were a Fencer, he'll begin,
And aske a man what Ward he will be in:
(But first the Prisoner drawes without delay,
A sop for Cerberus that turnes the key.)
Then the old prisoners garnish doe demand,
Which straight must be discharged out of hand,
But if he cannot pay, or doth deny,
He thrusts him in the hole, there lets him lye.
If a good prisoner hath a well linde purse,
The Iaylor then esteemes him as his nurse,
Suckes like a Bulcalfe, and doth neuer cease
Till with much griefe he heares of a release.
An vnder-keeper, (though without desert)
Is a continuall knaue in spight on's heart:
If to the Prisoners he be sharpe and cruell,
He proues their knaue, and his good masters Iewell:
If vnto them himselfe he well behaue,
He is their Iewell, and his masters knaue.
So let him turne himselfe which way he can,
He seldome shall be held an honest man.
Perhaps the Jaylor in one stinking roome
Hath sixe beds, for the Gallant and the Groome,
In lowsie linnen, ragged couerlets:
Twelue men to lodge in those sixe beds he sets:
For which each man doth pay a groat a night,
Which weekely's eight and twenty shillings right:
Thus one foule dirty roome from men vnwilling,
Draws yearely seauenty three pound sixteen shilling.
Besides a Iaylor (to keepe men in feare)
Will like a demi-diuill dominere:
Reare like a Bearward, grumble, snarle, and growle,
Like a Towre Cat-a-Mountaine stare and scowle.
He and the Serieant may be coupled too,
As bane of Mankind, for they both vndoe:
Th'Extortioner and Broaker nam'd before,
Hauing both bit and grip'd a mans state sore:
In comes the Serieant for his breakfast then,
Drags him to th'Iayle, to be new squeezd agen:
And thence he gets not, there he shall not start,
Till the last drop of bloud's wrong from his heart.
Yet I haue heard some Serieants haue beene mild,
And vsd their Prisoner like a Christians child;
Nip'd him in priuate, neuer trig'd his way,
As Bandogs carrion, but faire went away,
Follow'd aloofe, shew'd himselfe kind and meeke,
And lodg'd him in his owne house for a weeke.
You'd wonder at such kindnesse in a man,
So many Regions from a Christian,
But what's the cause, Ile lead you out o'th maze,
'Tis twenty shillings euery day he stayes,
Besides the Serieants wife must haue a stroake,
At the poore teate, some outside she must soake,
Although she tridge for't, whil'st good fortunes fall,
He shall command house, Serieant, and all.
Thus may it come by th' side o'th breeding woman,
The Seriants Son's a Gentleman, no Yeoman.
And whil'st they fish from mens decayes and wants,
Their wiues may proue foule fleshly Cormorants.
Thus a bad Serieant and a Jaylor both,
Are Cormorants which all good people loath,
And yet amongst them some good men there are,
Like snow at Midsommer, exceeding rare.
His work's brought to him, as he were a Taylor,
As if he were a Fencer, he'll begin,
And aske a man what Ward he will be in:
(But first the Prisoner drawes without delay,
A sop for Cerberus that turnes the key.)
Then the old prisoners garnish doe demand,
Which straight must be discharged out of hand,
But if he cannot pay, or doth deny,
He thrusts him in the hole, there lets him lye.
If a good prisoner hath a well linde purse,
The Iaylor then esteemes him as his nurse,
Suckes like a Bulcalfe, and doth neuer cease
Till with much griefe he heares of a release.
An vnder-keeper, (though without desert)
Is a continuall knaue in spight on's heart:
If to the Prisoners he be sharpe and cruell,
He proues their knaue, and his good masters Iewell:
If vnto them himselfe he well behaue,
He is their Iewell, and his masters knaue.
So let him turne himselfe which way he can,
He seldome shall be held an honest man.
Perhaps the Jaylor in one stinking roome
Hath sixe beds, for the Gallant and the Groome,
In lowsie linnen, ragged couerlets:
Twelue men to lodge in those sixe beds he sets:
For which each man doth pay a groat a night,
Which weekely's eight and twenty shillings right:
Thus one foule dirty roome from men vnwilling,
Draws yearely seauenty three pound sixteen shilling.
Besides a Iaylor (to keepe men in feare)
Will like a demi-diuill dominere:
Reare like a Bearward, grumble, snarle, and growle,
Like a Towre Cat-a-Mountaine stare and scowle.
He and the Serieant may be coupled too,
As bane of Mankind, for they both vndoe:
Th'Extortioner and Broaker nam'd before,
Hauing both bit and grip'd a mans state sore:
In comes the Serieant for his breakfast then,
Drags him to th'Iayle, to be new squeezd agen:
And thence he gets not, there he shall not start,
Till the last drop of bloud's wrong from his heart.
Yet I haue heard some Serieants haue beene mild,
And vsd their Prisoner like a Christians child;
Nip'd him in priuate, neuer trig'd his way,
As Bandogs carrion, but faire went away,
Follow'd aloofe, shew'd himselfe kind and meeke,
And lodg'd him in his owne house for a weeke.
11
So many Regions from a Christian,
But what's the cause, Ile lead you out o'th maze,
'Tis twenty shillings euery day he stayes,
Besides the Serieants wife must haue a stroake,
At the poore teate, some outside she must soake,
Although she tridge for't, whil'st good fortunes fall,
He shall command house, Serieant, and all.
Thus may it come by th' side o'th breeding woman,
The Seriants Son's a Gentleman, no Yeoman.
And whil'st they fish from mens decayes and wants,
Their wiues may proue foule fleshly Cormorants.
Thus a bad Serieant and a Jaylor both,
Are Cormorants which all good people loath,
And yet amongst them some good men there are,
Like snow at Midsommer, exceeding rare.
| All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet | |