A Nights Search Discovering the Nature and Condition of Night-Walkers with their associats. Digested into a Poem by Hum. Mill |
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Sect. 25. |
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 | A Nights Search |  |
97
Sect. 25.
An enquiry, after a yong man, that was led away with a whore from his master.
A yong man lately chanc'd to be in place,
Where was a Trull, who had a brazen face;
Her words she spoke by grosse, her tongue was tip't
With shamelesse boldnesse: for 'twas newly dip't
In divers liquors; but she did protest
The Wine she drank was raught; the Ale was best.
Her carriage with her words did so agree
You'd think that hell had none so bad as she.
Where was a Trull, who had a brazen face;
Her words she spoke by grosse, her tongue was tip't
With shamelesse boldnesse: for 'twas newly dip't
In divers liquors; but she did protest
The Wine she drank was raught; the Ale was best.
Her carriage with her words did so agree
You'd think that hell had none so bad as she.
This pretty beast found out a silly Asse,
They both agreed to go abroad to grasse:
His wit lay in his tongue; all that he had;
But now the Ale had rob'd him; drunk, and mad,
He now begins to dally, with this whore,
Through her allurements (so have many more
Been taken by her) and his blood grows warme;
What ere he did, he thought it was no harme.
She having brought him to her cursed bent;
Begins to search what coyne he had; what spent:
Iudge you his case, for she was much in feare
'Twas low; but then an Angell did appeare,
Which chear'd her heart: the reckoning being paid;
She draw'd him thence, time must not be delaid,
If place be silent: gone they are together;
(Think what's their end) but who can tell me whither?
Faine would I find them, grant me then your ayd,
And get a Warrant; search, for they are strayd
Into some corner: if we find them, so;
But if we cannot, hang 'hem, let them go.
They both agreed to go abroad to grasse:
His wit lay in his tongue; all that he had;
But now the Ale had rob'd him; drunk, and mad,
He now begins to dally, with this whore,
Through her allurements (so have many more
Been taken by her) and his blood grows warme;
What ere he did, he thought it was no harme.
She having brought him to her cursed bent;
Begins to search what coyne he had; what spent:
Iudge you his case, for she was much in feare
'Twas low; but then an Angell did appeare,
Which chear'd her heart: the reckoning being paid;
She draw'd him thence, time must not be delaid,
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(Think what's their end) but who can tell me whither?
Faine would I find them, grant me then your ayd,
And get a Warrant; search, for they are strayd
Into some corner: if we find them, so;
But if we cannot, hang 'hem, let them go.
How you may know them, I will now describe,
But if you find them, do not take a bribe,
Nor let them go; but shew the Man the Devill;
As for the whore, let Bridewell prove this evill.
But if you find them, do not take a bribe,
Nor let them go; but shew the Man the Devill;
As for the whore, let Bridewell prove this evill.
He's tallow-fac'd, his eyes are black, and narrow,
His chops are thin, he's mouth'd much like a sparrow,
With beetle brows, his braine with humor swims,
Ear'd like an Asse, his hat hath narrow brims,
He's tall and slender, that me thinks might grace him,
But what is said before doth still out-face him.
His clothes are very poore, his cloak's the best,
A sad brown colour; being once but drest.
I doubt she will perswade him (else she'll raile)
To put it for its faults in Brokers Iyale.
His chops are thin, he's mouth'd much like a sparrow,
With beetle brows, his braine with humor swims,
Ear'd like an Asse, his hat hath narrow brims,
He's tall and slender, that me thinks might grace him,
But what is said before doth still out-face him.
His clothes are very poore, his cloak's the best,
A sad brown colour; being once but drest.
I doubt she will perswade him (else she'll raile)
To put it for its faults in Brokers Iyale.
And for the Iade, marke, how you may descry her;
By my description I would not bely her.
Her face is swarty, with a hawks-bill nose,
And goggle-eyes: how such a paire as those
Would fright one in the night! her looks so rude
Would make you wonder, if you are endu'd
With common sense; her mouth o'th' largest size,
Stands always open, or with lust, or lyes.
Her head is almost bald, her teeth are thinne:
She, like a changeling, slobbers down her chinne;
Her hands are brawny, and her fingers are
Shrunck up for length, yet swelld with spight, or care:
Her body's grosse, her legs do keep asunder,
Her feet are sure, yet being so kept under,
They hew each other; but her legs being big,
Will beare 'em out in't, she cares not a fig;
Her knees are reconcil'd, yet by relation,
They'le part asunder on a light occasion:
Her 'parrell is as meane, as meane may be;
Her gowne is thred-bare, and as light as she.
Her gorgets dirty and I heard some grumbl'd,
She weares no ruffe, for feare it should be tumbl'd.
Her Felt is out of fashion; yet 'twill last her
Till trading mend; and then she'le have a Caster.
By my description I would not bely her.
Her face is swarty, with a hawks-bill nose,
And goggle-eyes: how such a paire as those
Would fright one in the night! her looks so rude
Would make you wonder, if you are endu'd
With common sense; her mouth o'th' largest size,
Stands always open, or with lust, or lyes.
Her head is almost bald, her teeth are thinne:
She, like a changeling, slobbers down her chinne;
Her hands are brawny, and her fingers are
Shrunck up for length, yet swelld with spight, or care:
Her body's grosse, her legs do keep asunder,
Her feet are sure, yet being so kept under,
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Will beare 'em out in't, she cares not a fig;
Her knees are reconcil'd, yet by relation,
They'le part asunder on a light occasion:
Her 'parrell is as meane, as meane may be;
Her gowne is thred-bare, and as light as she.
Her gorgets dirty and I heard some grumbl'd,
She weares no ruffe, for feare it should be tumbl'd.
Her Felt is out of fashion; yet 'twill last her
Till trading mend; and then she'le have a Caster.
These marks will help you, if you do but mind them;
I'le tell you where too, you are like to find them.
I'le tell you where too, you are like to find them.
First, search the tenters; place, and persons marke,
If there you misse, then go to Mutton parke:
For that's a noted place; but yet, I feare
The Bawd being lofty, has no poore puncks there.
Search narrowly; blind Ale-houses may be
A cover-slut; let not the hornes go free.
Then go to Bloomsbury, and common places
Where varlets dwell, and vermine hide their faces.
From thence to Islington, and seek about
In Alehouses, and Taverns; for a rout
Of vassals there do meet: if that be vaine,
And having rais'd the spirits of the braine,
Come back to Turneboll-street; but have a care,
Be not to bold; for why? such creatures are,
Both tempting, and infoctious; I have seen them,
And three in all had but one nose between them.
If there you misse, then go to Mutton parke:
For that's a noted place; but yet, I feare
The Bawd being lofty, has no poore puncks there.
Search narrowly; blind Ale-houses may be
A cover-slut; let not the hornes go free.
Then go to Bloomsbury, and common places
Where varlets dwell, and vermine hide their faces.
From thence to Islington, and seek about
In Alehouses, and Taverns; for a rout
Of vassals there do meet: if that be vaine,
And having rais'd the spirits of the braine,
Come back to Turneboll-street; but have a care,
Be not to bold; for why? such creatures are,
Both tempting, and infoctious; I have seen them,
And three in all had but one nose between them.
Then by the way that is about the Play-house,
Search carefully, for I mistrust the day-house;
If still you misse 'em, go to Shorditch then,
For that's a place, where whores have beggerd men:
If there you find them not, I'le say 'tis strange,
Yet be not out of heart, for Pickt-hatch Grange
Is the most likeliest place: For this I know,
They're either there, or gone to rotten Row.
Search carefully, for I mistrust the day-house;
If still you misse 'em, go to Shorditch then,
For that's a place, where whores have beggerd men:
If there you find them not, I'le say 'tis strange,
Yet be not out of heart, for Pickt-hatch Grange
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They're either there, or gone to rotten Row.
Enquiry being made, they're found at last;
The common stock was small; they spent too fast.
The Angell was casheer'd, nor can they rest:
For both their purses, were not penny-blest,
Yet rest they did; but how! their bones were staid;
Ere they are freed, the reckoning must be paid.
Now farewell cloke, it's like to go in trouble;
The sweet is past, the sower will be double!
The whore will car'it; quickly he is drawn
To quit himselfe, to put his cloak to pawn.
Well, gone it is: he sends it by this whore,
He takes no leave, but never sees it more.
He's pawn'd the while, his word they will not take,
Nor can I blame them; now his heart doth ake:
Yet not recover'd; like a beast he sits:
This whore, and drink, have rob'd him of his wits.
This is thy doome, poore foole, thou must abide it!
Thy shame breaks out, thou hast no cloak to hide it.
The common stock was small; they spent too fast.
The Angell was casheer'd, nor can they rest:
For both their purses, were not penny-blest,
Yet rest they did; but how! their bones were staid;
Ere they are freed, the reckoning must be paid.
Now farewell cloke, it's like to go in trouble;
The sweet is past, the sower will be double!
The whore will car'it; quickly he is drawn
To quit himselfe, to put his cloak to pawn.
Well, gone it is: he sends it by this whore,
He takes no leave, but never sees it more.
He's pawn'd the while, his word they will not take,
Nor can I blame them; now his heart doth ake:
Yet not recover'd; like a beast he sits:
This whore, and drink, have rob'd him of his wits.
This is thy doome, poore foole, thou must abide it!
Thy shame breaks out, thou hast no cloak to hide it.
Muse, stay a while, for yonder comes the lade,
And thou shalt know, what markets she hath made.
She being come, begins to tell her tale;
What paines she took, to put the cloak to sale:
She should have pawn'd it, for a noble price,
But she hath sold it, for a noble thrice.
One part she gave to him; the other two
She kept her selfe: thus queanes do use to do:
One of the parts, she reckons for her paines;
The other part, she counted for her gaines:
And thou shalt know, what markets she hath made.
She being come, begins to tell her tale;
What paines she took, to put the cloak to sale:
She should have pawn'd it, for a noble price,
But she hath sold it, for a noble thrice.
One part she gave to him; the other two
She kept her selfe: thus queanes do use to do:
One of the parts, she reckons for her paines;
The other part, she counted for her gaines:
This long-lane Broker, well deserves a check,
He judgment gives, and hangs it by the neck:
Its master thought, it should but beare's expences,
'Tis faine to suffer, for his foule offences!
Wast known by any? has it ever been
That cloaks were punisht, for their Masters sin?
This tyrant shows some favour to the Cape,
'Twas prov'd, that was not guilty of the Rape:
It had reveal'd them, had it not been blind,
And sham'd them too, but that it hung behind.
He judgment gives, and hangs it by the neck:
Its master thought, it should but beare's expences,
'Tis faine to suffer, for his foule offences!
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That cloaks were punisht, for their Masters sin?
This tyrant shows some favour to the Cape,
'Twas prov'd, that was not guilty of the Rape:
It had reveal'd them, had it not been blind,
And sham'd them too, but that it hung behind.
Then he perceiving how the markets went;
His cloak being gone, and all his money spent,
And he himselfe is brought to such disgrace,
He'l be but hist at, when he shews his face.
Vnto the whore, thus he his mind did utter,
(Shame mov'd his tongue, he could but only mutter.)
His cloak being gone, and all his money spent,
And he himselfe is brought to such disgrace,
He'l be but hist at, when he shews his face.
Vnto the whore, thus he his mind did utter,
(Shame mov'd his tongue, he could but only mutter.)
Thou dunghill Iade! thou hast undone me quite:
The time's accurst, that I came in thy sight!
Thou tempting witch, thou rotten hag, thou monster!
How vile thou art, the World can never conster;
'Twas thou, 'twas thou, did'st draw me unto sin,
Thou jear'st me now, what pickle am I in?
Time, where's thy sithe? oh! that my glasse were run!
I had been blest, had I not seen the Sun!
With that he stopt, griefe had his spirits sunk,
He could not speak; then thus begins the Punk:
The time's accurst, that I came in thy sight!
Thou tempting witch, thou rotten hag, thou monster!
How vile thou art, the World can never conster;
'Twas thou, 'twas thou, did'st draw me unto sin,
Thou jear'st me now, what pickle am I in?
Time, where's thy sithe? oh! that my glasse were run!
I had been blest, had I not seen the Sun!
With that he stopt, griefe had his spirits sunk,
He could not speak; then thus begins the Punk:
Thou prating foole! I took thee for an Asse,
Thou art a Rascall; like a coxcombe passe.
Thou foule-mouth'd villaine, what, doest raile at me?
Go hang thy selfe, and ease thy misery.
Thou simple drone! doe'st think to lick the hony
In Forma pauperis? hast thou spent thy money?
And art thou vext? who ist can give thee help?
Thou art too yong; alas, poore sucking whelp!
Hast lost thy cloak? maintain'd how should I bee
Or such as I, but by such fooles as thee?
Do'st cry! hold up thy head: and let me kisse thee,
Kisse somewhere else, if I do chance to misse thee.
Go learne more wit; if thou so canst, and then
Get money too't, and come to me agen.
Vntill that time, I will thy absence crave,
This is no jeare; and so adew poore slave!
Thou art a Rascall; like a coxcombe passe.
Thou foule-mouth'd villaine, what, doest raile at me?
Go hang thy selfe, and ease thy misery.
Thou simple drone! doe'st think to lick the hony
In Forma pauperis? hast thou spent thy money?
And art thou vext? who ist can give thee help?
Thou art too yong; alas, poore sucking whelp!
Hast lost thy cloak? maintain'd how should I bee
Or such as I, but by such fooles as thee?
Do'st cry! hold up thy head: and let me kisse thee,
Kisse somewhere else, if I do chance to misse thee.
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Get money too't, and come to me agen.
Vntill that time, I will thy absence crave,
This is no jeare; and so adew poore slave!
He sighes, and weeps, nor can he think of rest:
What dreadfull torment doth possesse his brest:
He'd faine be gone, and yet as faine would stay,
But that his cash is spent, he must away:
But whether knows he not, 'tis his intent
Home to returne; yet fearing to be shent,
His mind doth change, he'd go then to his kindred,
But he shall shame them; so, his journey's hindred.
If he dos walk by day, his friends will spy him;
Or if by night, the watch-men will descry him:
He giving no accompt; then they in rage,
Will put him into Bridewell, or the Cage.
His cloke he cannot get, yet goes about it:
Nor has he food, nor can he live without it.
He thus laments his case.
Wretch that I am! was I not worse than mad
To yeeld to such a whore? I'me worse than bad!
Vndone, undone! I have my Fortunes crost:
My Friends are turn'd my Foes; my credit's lost.
As I do, who can live: nor can I dy:
My death's to live; in what a strait am I!
What dreadfull torment doth possesse his brest:
He'd faine be gone, and yet as faine would stay,
But that his cash is spent, he must away:
But whether knows he not, 'tis his intent
Home to returne; yet fearing to be shent,
His mind doth change, he'd go then to his kindred,
But he shall shame them; so, his journey's hindred.
If he dos walk by day, his friends will spy him;
Or if by night, the watch-men will descry him:
He giving no accompt; then they in rage,
Will put him into Bridewell, or the Cage.
His cloke he cannot get, yet goes about it:
Nor has he food, nor can he live without it.
He thus laments his case.
Wretch that I am! was I not worse than mad
To yeeld to such a whore? I'me worse than bad!
Vndone, undone! I have my Fortunes crost:
My Friends are turn'd my Foes; my credit's lost.
As I do, who can live: nor can I dy:
My death's to live; in what a strait am I!
Me thinks the earth doth speake to my disgrace,
The stones, the dust spit venom in my face!
Boreas is angry, growing sharp and thin;
The clowdy Ayre swels, to revenge my sin!
The Heavens frown, they'l not endure my sight;
The dayes controwler, scornes to give me light!
Could I with these, but once more, have a truce,
And with my Friends, if ever such abuse
I do commit again, then let me be
A modell of disgrace; that all by me
May warning take, oh! how do I repent
Of all my basenesse! homeward I am bent.
I will submit; what though my master please
For punishment, send me to little ease!
Or els corrects me private? let him do it:
I have deserv'd it, and I'le yeeld unto it.
In living thus, it adds unto my sorrow,
Fall back, or edge, home I will go to morrow.
The stones, the dust spit venom in my face!
Boreas is angry, growing sharp and thin;
The clowdy Ayre swels, to revenge my sin!
The Heavens frown, they'l not endure my sight;
The dayes controwler, scornes to give me light!
Could I with these, but once more, have a truce,
And with my Friends, if ever such abuse
I do commit again, then let me be
103
May warning take, oh! how do I repent
Of all my basenesse! homeward I am bent.
I will submit; what though my master please
For punishment, send me to little ease!
Or els corrects me private? let him do it:
I have deserv'd it, and I'le yeeld unto it.
In living thus, it adds unto my sorrow,
Fall back, or edge, home I will go to morrow.
| A Nights Search | |