 | A Masque of the Metamorphos'd Gypsies |  |
Jackman.
Roome for the five Princes of Ægipt, mounted all upon the Horse
like the foure Sonnes of Aymon, to make the miracle the more, by a
head, if it may be: gaze upon them, as on the Off-spring of Ptolomie, begotten
upon severall Cleopatraes, in their severall Countries; especially
on this brave Sparke strooke out of Flint-shire, upon Justice Jugges
Daughter then Sheriffe of the Country; who running away with a kinsman
of our Captaines, and her Father pursuing her to the Marshes, Hee
great with Justice, She great with Juggling, they were both for the time
turn'd stone upon the sight each of other, in Chester: Till at last (see the
Wonder) A Jugge of the Towne Ale reconciling them; the memoriall
of both their gravities, his in beard, and hers in bellie, hath remain'd ever
since preserv'd in picture upon the most stone Jugs of the Kingdome.
The famous impe yet grew a wretchcocke, and though for seven yeares
together, he were very carefully carried at his mothers backe, rock'd in
a cradle of Welch-cheese, like a Maggot, and there fed with broken
beere, and blowne wine o'the best dayly; yet lookes he, as if he never
saw his Guinquennium. Tis true, he can thread needles o'horse-backe,
to draw a yard of inckle through his nose: But what's that to a growne
Gipsie, one of the bloud, and of his time if he had thriv'd: Therefore, till
with his painefull Progenitors, he be able to beat it on the hard hoofe, or
the bene Bawse, or the Starling, Ken to nip a Jan, and Cly the Jack; tis
thought fit he march in the Infants equipage.
Out of Clutch of Harman Beckage,
To their lebkins at the Crackmans,
Or some skipper of the Blackmans.
Where the Cacklers, but no Grunters,
Shall uncas'd be for the Hunter's,
Those we still must keepe alive;
I, and put them out to thrive
In the Parkes, and in the Chases,
And the finer walled places;
As Saint James-es, Greenwich, Tibballs,
Where the Acornes plumpe as Chiballs,
Soone shall change both kinde and name,
And proclaime'em the Kings game.
So the act no harme may be
Unto their keeper Barnabee;
It will prove as good a service,
As did ever Gipsie Jervice,
To our Captaine Charles the tall man,
And a part too of our Salmon.
Jackman.
If we here be a little obscure, it is our pleasure; for rather than wee
will offer to be our owne interpreters, we are resolv'd not to be understood:
yet if any man doubt of the significancie of the language, wee
referre him to the third vollume of reports, set forth by the learned in
the lawes of Canting, and published in the Gipsies tongue: Give me my
Guittarra, and roome for our Chiefe.
Dance.
Which is the entrance of the Captaine, with sixe more attendant; After which the Jackman sings.
Song.
From the famous Peacke of Darby,
And the Devills arse there hard-by,
Where we yearely keepe our musters,
Thus the Ægiptians throng in clusters.
Be not frighted with our fashion,
Though we seeme a tattered Nation;
We account our ragges, our riches,
So our tricks exceed our stitches.
Give us Bacon, rindes of Walnuts,
Shells of Cockels, and of Smalnuts;
Ribands, bells, and Safrond lynnen,
All the World is ours to winne in.
Knackes we have that will delight you,
slight of hand that will invite you,
To endure our tawny faces.
Quit your places, and not cause you cut your laces.
All your fortunes we can tell yee,
Be they for the backe or bellie;
In the Moodes too, and the Tenses,
That may fit your fine five senses.
Draw but then your gloves we pray you,
And sit still, we will not fray you;
For though we be here at Burley,
Wee'd be loth to make a hurly.
Patrico.
The touch of thy finger,
A little, and linger;
For me that am bringer
Of bound to the border,
The rule and Recorder,
And mouth of the order,
As Priest of the game,
And Prelate of the same.
Is the top of the Shiere,
Of the Bever Ken,
A man among men;
You need not to feare,
I have an eye, and an eare
That turnes here and there,
To looke to our geare.
Some say that there be
One or two, if not three,
That are greater then he.
I know by their ports,
And their jollie resorts,
They are of the sorts
That love the true sports
Of King Ptolomeus,
Or great Coriphæus,
And Queene Cleopatra,
The Gipsies grand Matra.
Then if we shall sharke it,
Here Fayre is, and Market.
Leave Pig by, and Goose,
And play fast, and loose,
A short cut, and long,
Some inch of a song,
Pythagoras lot,
With what sayes Alchindus?
And Pharaotes Indus,
John de Indagine
With all their Pagine
Of faces and Palmistrie,
And this is Almistrie.
Lay by your wimbles,
Your boring for thimbles,
Or using your nimbles,
In diving the pockets,
And sounding the sockets
Of Simper-the Cockets;
Or angling the purses,
Of such as will curse us;
But in the strict duell
Be merry, and cruell,
Strike faire at some jewell,
That mine may accrue well,
For that is the fuell,
To make the Town brew well,
And the pot wring well,
And the braine sing well,
Which we may bring well
About by a string well,
And doe the thing well.
It is but a straine
Of true legerdemaine,
Once twice and againe.
Or what will you say now
If with our fine play now,
Our feates, and our fingring,
Here without lingring;
Cosening the sights
Of the Lords, and the knights.
Some one of their Georges
Come off to save charges.
Or what will you say now?
If with our fine play now,
Our knackes, and our dances,
We worke on the fancies
Of some of these Nancies.
These trinckets, and tripsies,
And make'em turne Gipsies.
Heer's no Justice Lippus
Will seeke for to nip us,
In Crampring, or Cippus,
And then for to strip us,
And after to whip us.
His justice to vary,
But be wise, and wary,
And we may both carry,
The Kate, and the Mary,
And all the bright ae'ry,
Away to the quarry.
The George and the Garter,
Into our owne quarter;
Or durst I goe further
In methood and order:
Ther's a purse and a Seale,
I have a great minde to steale.
That when our tricks are done,
We might seale our owne pardon;
All this we may doe,
And a great deale more too,
If our brave Ptolomee,
Will but say follow mee.
3. Gipsie.
Captaine, if ever at the Bozing Ken,
You have in draught of Darby drill'd your men;
And we have seru'd there armed all in Ale,
With the browne bowle, and charg'd in bragget stale:
If muster'd thus, and disciplin'd in drinke,
In our long watches we did never shrinke,
But so commanded by you kept our station,
As we preserv'd our selves a royall Nation;
And never yet did branch of Statute breake,
Made in your famous Pallas of the Peake.
If we have deem'd, that Mutton, Lambe, or Veale,
Chicke, Capon, Turkey, sweetest we did steale;
As being by our Magna Charta taught
To judge no urands wholesome that are bought.
If for our Linnen we still us'd the lift,
And with the hedge (our trades increase) made shift;
And ever at your solemne feast, and calls,
We have beene readie with the Ægyptian bralls;
To set Kit Callot forth in Prose or Rhime,
Or who was Cleopatra for the time.
If we have done this, that, more, such, or so;
Now lend your eare but to the Patrico.
Well, Dance another straine, and wee'l thinke how
Dance 2.
1. Straine. Song 2.
The faery beame upon you,
The starres to glister on you;
A Moone of light,
In the noone of night,
Till the Fire-drake hath or'e gon you.
The wheele of fortune guide you,
The Boy with the bow beside you;
Runne aye in the way,
Till the bird of day,
And the luckier lot beside you.
Captaine.
From the gall of the heart, and the stroke of the tongue.
With you luckie Bird I begin, let me see,
I ayme at the best, and I trow you are he,
Heer's some lucke alreadie, if I understand
The grounds of mine Art; here's a Gentlemans hand.
Il'e kisse it for lucks sake, you shall by this line
Love a Horse, and a Hound; but no part of a swine.
To hunt the brave Stagge, not so much for the food,
As the weale of your bodie, and the health o'your blood.
Your a man of good meanes, and have Territories store
Both by Sea, and by Land; and were borne Sir to more,
Which you like a Lord, and the Prince of your peace,
Content with your havings, dispise to increase:
You are no great Wencher, I see by your table,
Although your Mons Veneris sayes you are able;
You live chaste, and single, and have buried your Wife,
And meane not to marrie, by the line of your life.
Whence he that conjectures, your qualitie learnes,
You are an honest good man, and care of your Barnes.
Your Mercuries hill too, a wit doth betoken,
Some booke-craft you have, and are pretty well spoken.
But stay, in your Jupiters mount, what's here?
A King, a Monarch; what wonders appeare!
High, Bountifull, Just: a Jove for your parts,
A Master of men, and that Reigne in their hearts.
And come to you againe.
To the young, all health and pleasure;
To the faire, their face
With eternall grace,
And the foule to be lov'd at leisure.
To the foolish, their darke errors;
To the loving sprite,
A secure delight,
To the jealous his owne false terrors.
After which the Kings fortune is pursued by the Captaine.
Could any doubt that saw this hand,
Or who you are, or what command
You have upon the fate of things,
Or would not say you were let downe
From Heaven, on earth to be the Crowne,
And top of all your neighbour Kings?
To see the wayes of truth you take,
To fallance businesse, and to make
All Christian differences cease.
Or till the quarrell, and the cause
You can compose, to give them lawes,
As arbitor of Warre, and Peace.
For this, of all the world you shall
Be stiled James, the just, and all
Their states dispose, their Sons and daughters;
And for your fortune you alone,
Among them all shall worke your owne,
By peace, not by humaine slaughters.
But why doe I presume, though true,
To tell a Fortune, Sir, to you,
Who are the maker here of all;
Where none doe stand, or sit in view,
But owe their fortune unto you,
At least what they good fortunes call?
My selfe a Gipsie here doe shine,
Yet are you maker, Sir, of mine.
Oh that confession could content
So high a bounty, that doth know
No part of motion, but to flow,
and giving never to repent.
May still the matter wayte your hand,
That it not feele, or stay, or stand;
but all desert still over charge.
In me whom you have made, a minde,
As thankefull as your owne is large.
2 Dance. 2 Straine.
After which, the Princes fortune is offered at by the 2 Gipsie.
With the Sire, I take the Sonne,
Your hand Sir.
Love, and she, are both at your
Command Sir.
Who shall tender you a Wife,
A brave one;
Then is offer'd here, you can
Not have one.
One the noblest now that are,
Bright Hesper.
Phosphore call, and in the West,
Hight Vesper.
Doth her mighty brother runne,
For splendor:
More then morne, and evening light
Attend her?
Of a little James to play
Hereafter.
All the pretty wayes of love,
And laughter.
In your giving his cares ease,
And labours;
Of the Empire, make afrayd
Ill Neighbours.
What we wish, yet farre to be
Attending:
That begins, which cannot feare
An ending.
Nought shall bound untill the starres
up take you.
2. Dance. Staine 3.
After which, the Ladie Marques Buckinghams by the 3. Gipsie.
Hurle after an old shooe,
Ile be merrie what ever I doe,
Though I keepe no time,
My words shall chyme,
Ile over-take the sense with a ryme.
Face of a rose
I pray thee depose
Some small piece of silver: It shall be no losse,
But onely to make the signe of the crosse;
If your hand you hallow,
Good fortune will follow.
I sweare by these ten,
You shall have it agen,
I doe not say when.
But Ladie, either I am tipsie,
Or you are to fall in love with a Gipsie;
Blush not Dame Kate,
For early, or late,
I doe assure you it will be your fate;
Nor need you be once asham'd of it Madam,
Hee's as handsome a man, as ever was Adam.
A man out of waxe,
As a Ladie would axe;
Yet hee's not to wed yee:
H'has enjoyd you alreadie,
And I hope he has sped yee.
A dainty yong fellow,
And though he looke yellow,
He never will be jealous,
But love you most zealous.
Ther's never a line in your hand but doth tell us.
And you are a soule so white, and so chaste,
A table so smooth, and so newly ra'ste,
As nothing cald foule,
Dare approach with a blot,
Or any least spot;
But still you controule,
Or make your owne lot,
Preserving love pure as it first was begot:
But Dame I must tell yee,
The fruit of your bellie,
And care so to render;
That as your selfe came
In blood, and in name,
From one house of fame,
So that may remaine
The glory of twaine.
2 Dance. 4 Straine.
After which, the Countesse of Rutlands by the 3 Gipsie.
You sweet Ladie have a hand too,
And a fortune you may stand too;
Both your brav'ry, and your bounty
Stile you Mistris of the County;
You will finde it from this night,
Fortune shall forget her spight,
And heape all the blessings on you,
That she can poure out upon you;
To be lov'd, where most you love,
Is the worst that you shall prove;
And by him to be imbrac't,
Who so long hath knowne you chaste,
Wise, and faire; whil'st you renew
Joyes to him, and he to you:
And when both your yeares are told,
Neither thinke the other old.
And the Countesse of Exeters by the Patrico
Madam we know of your comming so late,
We could not well fit you a nobler fate
Then what you have readie made;
An old mans wife,
Is the light of his life,
A young one is but his shade.
You will not importune,
The change of your fortune;
For if you dare trust to my forecasting,
T'is presently good, and will be lasting.
Dance 2. 5. Straine.
After which, the Countesse of Buckinghams by the 4 Gipsie.
If some should judge you by your hand
The greatest fell on in the Land.
Detected:
But you have stolne so many hearts,
As they would make you at all parts
Suspected.
As being view'd it was alone,
Too slipperie to be lookt upon;
And threw men.
As none could er'e behold too much;
Both ev'ry taste, and ev'ry touch
So drew men.
Two of your Sons are Gipsies too,
You shall our Queene be, and see who
Importunes
And doth not wish both George, and Sue,
And every Barne besides, all new
Good fortunes.
The Lady Purbecks by the2. Gipsie.
Helpe me wonder, her's a booke,
Where I would for ever looke;
Never yet did Gipsie trace,
Smoother lines in hands, or face:
Venus here doth Saturne move
That you should be Queene of love;
And the other Starres consent,
Onely Cupid not content;
For though you the theft disguise,
You have told him of his eyes:
And to shew his envie further,
Here he chargeth you with murther;
Sayes, although that at your sight,
He must all his troches light,
Though your either checks discloses,
Mingled bathes of milke and Roses,
Though your lips be bankes of blisses,
Where he plants, and gathers kisses;
And your selfe the reason why,
Wisest men for love may dye,
You will turne all hearts to tinder,
And shall make the World one cinder.
Mistris, of a fayrer table
Hath not history, nor sable;
Others fortunes may be showne,
You are builder of your owne.
And what ever Heav'n hath given you;
You preserve the state still in you,
That which time would have depart,
Youth without the holpe of Art,
You doe keepe still, and the glory
Of your Sexe, is but your story.
The Lord Chamberlaine by the Jackman.
Though you Sir be Chamberlaine, I have a key
To open your fortune a little by the way;
You are a good man,
Deny it that can;
And faithfull you are,
Deny it that dare.
You know how to use your sword and your Pen,
And you love not alone the Arts, but the men;
The graces and Muses ev'ry where follow
You, as you were their second Apollo;
Onely your hand here tells you to your face,
You have wanted one grace,
To performe, what has beene a right of your place;
For by this line which is Mars his Trench,
You never yet help'd your Master to a Wench:
Tis well for your honour hee's pious, and chaste,
Or you had most certainly beene disolaste.
Dance 2. Straine 3.
The Lord Keepers fortune by the Patrico.
As happie a Palme Sir, as most i'the Land,
It should be a pure, and an innocent hand;
And worthie the trust,
For it sayes youle be just,
And carry that Purse,
Without any curse
Of the Publique-weale,
When you take out the Seale,
A Judge of a yeare.
Ile venter my life
You never had wife,
But ile venter my skill,
You may when you will.
You have the Kings conscience too in your brest,
And that's a good guest;
Which you will have true touch of,
And yet not make much of;
More then by truth your selfe forth to bring,
The man that you are, for God, and the King.
The Lord Treasurers fortune by the 3 Gipsie.
I come to borrow, and you'le grapt my demand Sir,
Since tis for no money, pray lend me your hand Sir;
And yet this good hand if you please to stretch it,
Had the Errant beene money, could easily fetch it;
You command the Kings treasure, and yet on my soule
You handle not much, for your palme is not foule:
Your fortune Is good, and will be to set
The Office upright, and the King out of debt;
To put all that have Pensions soone out of their paine,
By bringing th'Exchequer in credit againe.
The Lord Privie-Seales, 2 Gipsie.
Honest, and old,
In those the good part of a fortune is told;
God send you your health,
The rest is provided, honour, and wealth;
All which you possesse,
Without the making of any man lesse,
Nor need you my warrant, enjoy it you shall,
For you have a good Privie-Seale for it all.
The Earle Marshalls, 3 Gipsie.
Next the great Master, who is the Donor,
I reade you here the preserver of honour,
And spie it all your singular parts,
What a father you are, and a nurse of the Arts.
By cherishing which, a way you have found,
How the free to all, to one may be bound,
And they againe love their bonds; for to bee
Obliged to you, is the way to be free:
Yours shall be to make true Gentry knowne
From the fictitious, not to prize blood
So much by the greatnesse, as by the good:
To shew, and to open cleere vertue the way,
Both whether she should, and how farre she may;
And whilst you doe judge twixt valour, and noyse
To'extinguish the race of the roaring boyes.
The Lord Stewards by the 4 Gipsie.
I finde by this hand
You have the command
Of the very best mans house i'the land:
Our Captaine, and wee,
Ere long will see
If you keepe a good table;
Your Master's able.
And here be bountifull lines that say
You'le keepe no part of his bounty away.
Thus written to Franke
On your Venus banke;
To prove a false steward you'le find much adoe;
Being a true one by blood, and by office too.
Lord Marquesse Hamiltons by the 3 Gipsie.
Onely your hand, and welcome to Court,
Here is a man both for earnest, and sport.
You were lately employ'd
And your Master is joy'd
To have such in his traine
So well can sustaine
His person abroad,
And not shrinke for the load.
But had you beene here,
You should have beene a Gipsie I sweare,
Our Captaine had summond you by a doxie,
To whom you would not have answer'd by proxie,
One, had she come in the way of your Scepter,
Tis ods, you had layd it by to have leapt her.
The Earle of Buckclougs by the Patrico.
A hunter you have beene heretofore,
And had game good store;
Upon a new sent,
And shifted your loves
As often as they did their smockes, or their gloves:
But since that your brave intendments are
Now bent for the warre,
The world shall see
You can constant be,
One Mistris to prove,
And court her for your love.
Pallæs, shall be both your Sword, and your Gage;
Truth, beare your Shield, and fortune your Page.
Patr.
Why this is a sport,
See it North, see it South,
For the taste of the Court,
Jack.
For the Courts own mouth.
Come Windsor, the Towne,
With the Maior, and oppose,
Weell put them all downe,
Patr.
Do—do—downe like my hose.
A Gipsie in his shape
More calls the beholder,
Then the fellow with the Ape,
Jac.
Or the Ape on his shoulder.
H'is a sight that will take
An old Judge from his Wench,
I, and keepe him awake,
Pat.
Yes, awake on the Bench.
And has so much worth,
Though he sit i'the stocks,
He will draw the Girles forth,
Jac.
I, forth i'their smocks.
Tut, a man's a man;
Let the Clownes with their Sluts
Come mend us if they can,
Pat.
If they can, for their guts.
Come mend us, come lend us, their shouts, and their noyse,
Both.
Like thunder, and wonder at Ptolomies boyes.
2 Dance. 6 Straine, which leads into Dance 3.
During which, Enter the Clownes, Cockrell, Clod, Tovvnshead, Puppie.
Cock.
Oh the Lord! what be these? Tom dost thou know?
Come hither, come hither Dick, didst thou ever see
such? the finest Olive-colour'd spirits, they have so danc'd, and gingled
here, as if they had beene a sett of over-growne Fayries.
They should be Morris-dancers by their gingle, but they have
no napkins:
Co.
No, nor a Hobby-horse.
Cl.
Oh, hees often forgotten, that's no rule; but there is no Maydamarian
nor Friar amongst them, which is the surer marke.
Co.
Nor a Foole that I see.
Cl.
Unlesse they be all fooles.
Tovv.
Well sed Tom foole; why thou simple pish Asse thou! didst
thou never see any Gipsies? these are a covie of Gipsies, and the bravest
new-come, that ever Constable flew at; goodly game Gipsies, they are
Gipsies o'this yeare, o'this Moone in my conscience.
Cl.
Oh they are called the Moone men I remember now!
Coc.
One shall hardly see such gentleman-like-Gipsies, though under
a hedge in a whole Summers day, if they be Gipsies.
Tovv.
Male Gipsies all, not a Mort among them.
Pup.
Where? where? I could never endure the sight of these Rogue-Gipsies, which be they: I would faine see'em.
Cl.
Yonder they are.
Pup.
Can they Cant, or Mill? are they masters of their Arts?
To.
No bachelours these, they cannot have proceeded so farre; they have scarce had their time to be lowsie yet.
Pu.
All the better; I would be acquainted with them while they are
in cleane life, the'ile doe their tricks the cleanlier.
Coc.
We must have some musick then, and take out the Wenches.
Pup.
Musick, wee'll have a whole poverty of pipers, call cheeks upon
the Bagpipe, and Tom Ticklefoot with his Tabor; see where he comes!
Co.
I, and all the good wenches of Windsor; after him, yonder is
Prue o'the Parke,
Tovv.
And Frances o'the Castle;
Pup.
And long Meg of Eaton;
Clo.
And Christian o' Dorny.
Tovv.
See the miracle of a Minstrell.
Co.
Hees able to muster up the smocks of the two Shieres;
Pu.
And set the Codpeeces and they by th'eares at pleasure.
To.
I cannot hold now, ther's my groat, let's have a fit for mirth sake,
Co.
Yes, and the'ile come about us for lucke sake.
Pu.
But looke to our pockets, and purses, for our owne sake.
Cl.
I, I have the greatest charge; gather the money.
Co.
Come Girles, here be Gipsies come to town, let's dance'em down.
The Clownes take out their Wenches. Prudence, Frances, Megge, Christian.
Country Dance.
During which, the Gipsies come about them prying, and after the Patrico.
Sweet Doxies, and Dells,
My Roses, and Knells,
Scarce out of the shells,
Your hands nothing ells.
With our Ptolomies bells,
Though we come from the fells,
But bring you good spells,
And sell you some chances,
In midst of your dances,
That fortune advances,
To Prudence, or Frances;
To Sisly, or Harry,
To Roger, or Mary,
Or Pegge of the Dary;
To Maudlin, or Thomas,
Then do not runne from us,
Although we looke tawny,
We are healthie, and brawny,
What ere your demand is,
Weell give you no jaundis.
Pup.
Say you so old Gipsie? 'slid these go too't in rymes; this is better
then canting by tone halfe.
To.
Nay, you shall heare'em; peace; they begin with Prudence,
mark that.
Pu.
The wiser Gipsie's the Marry.
To.
Are you advis'd?
Pu.
Yes, and ile stand too't, that a wise Gipsie (take him at time o'year)
is as pollique a peece of flesh, as most Justices in the County where hee
stalkes.
3 Gip.
To love a Keeper, your fortune will bee;
But the Doucets better then him, or his fee.
To.
Ha Prue, has he hit you it'h teeth with a sweet bit?
Pu.
Let her alone, shee'll swallow well enough; A learned Gipsie.
To.
You'le heare more hereafter.
Pu.
Marry, and ile listen; who stands next? Jack Cockrell.
You plow'd so late with the Vicars wife.
Pu.
A Prophet, a prophet, no Gipsie; or if he be a Gipsie, a divine Gipsie.
To.
Mark Frances, now shee's going too't, the virginitie o'the Parish.
Par.
Feare not, in hell you'le never lead Apes;
A mortifi'd mayden, of five scapes.
Pu.
Birlady he toucht the virgin string there a little too hard, they
are arrant learned men all I see; what say they upon Tom, Clod, List.
1 Gip.
Clods feet will in Christmas goe neere to be bare,
When he has lost all his hobnayles at Post and paire.
Pu.
Has hit the right nayle o'th head, his owne game.
To.
And the very mettall he deales in at play if you marke it.
Pu.
Peace, who's this? Long Meg?
To.
Long, and foule Meg, if she be a Meg, as ever I saw of her inches;
pray God they fit her with a faire fortune.
Pu.
They slip her, and treat upon Tickle-foot.
1 Gip.
On Sundayes you robbe the poores boxe with your tabor,
The Collectors would doe it, you save them a labor.
Faith but a little, they'le doe it non upstant.
To.
Heer's my little Christian, forget, ha you any fortune left for
her; a straight-lac'd Christian of sixteene.
Pat.
Christian shall get her a loose bo dide-gowne,
Intri'mge, how a Gentleman differs from a Clowne.
Pup.
Is that a fortune for a Christian; a Turke, or a Gipsie could not
have told her a worse.
To.
Come, Ile stand my selfe, and once venter the poore head o'the
Towne, doe your worst, my name's Townshead, and heers my hand Ile
not be angry.
3 Gip.
A Cuckold you must be, and that for three lives;
Your owne, the Parsons, and your Wives.
To.
I sweare Ile never marry for that, an't be but to give fortune my
foe the lye; Com Pan Puppie you must in too:
Pup.
No, I'me well enough, I would ha'no good fortune an I might:
Pat.
Yet looke to your selfe, you'le ha some ill luck,
And shortly, for I have his purse at a plucke.
I heare by the Hum,
If Beck-harman come,
Hee'le strike us all dumbe,
With a noyse like a Drum,
Let's give him our roome,
Here, this way some,
And that way others,
We are not all brother;
Leave me to the cheats,
Ile shew'em some feates.
Pup.
What! are they gone? flowne all of a sudden? this is fine
i'faith? a covie call y'em, they are a covie soone scatter'd mee thinke,
who sprung'em I marle?
To.
Marry your selfe Puppie for ought I know, you quested last.
Clo.
Would he had quested first, and sprung y'em an 'owre agoe,
for mee.
To.
Why! what's the matter man?
Clo.
'Slid, they ha'sprung my purse, and all I had about me.
So.
They ha'not, ha'they?
Clo.
As I am true Clod, ha'they, and ransacled me of every penny,
outcept I were with child with an owle (as they say) I never saw such
lucke, it's enough to make a man a whore.
Pup.
Hold thy peace, thou talk'st as if thou had'st a license to lose thy
purse alone in this company; 'slid here be those can lose a purse in honour
of the Gipsies, as well as thou for thy heart, and never make word of it:
I ha'lost my purse too.
Coc.
What was there i'thy purse, thou keep'st such a whining; was
the lease of thy house in it.
Pu.
Or thy Grannams silver ring.
Cl.
No, but a Mill sixe-pence I lov'd as dearely, and a 2 pence I had
to spend over and above; besides; the Harper that was gathered amongst
us, to pay the Piper.
Our whole stocke, is that gone? how will Tom Tickle-foot doe to
wet his whistle then?
Pup.
Marry, a new collection, ther's no musicke else masters, hee
can ill pipe that wants his upper lippe; Money.
Pau.
They have robb'd me too of a dainty race of ginger, and a jetring
I had, to draw Jacke straw hether a holydayes.
Tom.
Is't possible? fine finger'd Gipsies i'faith.
Me.
And I have lost an inchanted Nutmegge, all guilded over, was
inchanted at Oxford for mee, to put i'my sweet-hearts Ale a mornings;
with a row of white-pins that pricke me to the very heart, the losse of
them.
Clo.
And I have lost, besides my purse, my best bride-lace I had at
Joane Turners wedding, and a halpeworth of hobnayles: Francis Addlebreech
has lost somewhat too, besides her Mayden-head.
Fra.
I have lost my thimble, and a skeine of Coventry-blew I had
to worke Gregory Lichfield a handkercheife.
Chr.
And I unhappie Christian as I am, have lost my Practice of
Pietie, with a bowed groat; and the ballet of Whoope Barnibie, which
grieves me ten times worse.
Clo.
And Tickle-foot h'as lost his cloute he sayes, with a three pence
and foure tokens in't; besides his Tabouring-sticke ev'n now.
Co.
And I my knife and sheath, and my fine Dogs-leather gloves.
To.
H'a we lost never a dogge amongst us, wher's Puppie.
Pup.
Here goodman Townshead, you have nothing to lose it seemes,
but the Towne-braines you are trusted with.
No shooting of arrowes,
Or shafts of your wit,
Each other to hit,
In your skirmishing fit?
Your store is but small,
Then venter not all.
Remember each mocke,
Doth spend o'the stocke;
And what was here done,
Being under the Moone,
And at afternoone,
Will prove right soone
Disceptio visus,
Done Gratia risus.
Ther's no such thing,
As the losse of a ring,
Or what you count worse,
The misse of a purse.
But haye for the maine,
And passe of the straine,
Heer's both come againe.
And ther's an old twinger,
Can show yes the ginger;
Are safe here with Slut-megge;
Then strike up your Tabour,
And ther's for your labour;
The sheath, and the knife, Ile venter my life,
Shall breed you no strife,
But like man, and wife,
Or Sister, and brother, keepe one with another,
And light as a feather,
Make haste to come hither.
Hangs there upon Prue,
And heer's one opens
The Clout, and the Tokens;
Denie the bow'd groat,
And you lie i'your throat.
Or the Tabourers nine pence,
Or the sixe fine pence.
As for the ballet,
Or the booke what you call it;
Alas our societie,
Mell's not with pietie,
Himselfe hath for sooke it,
That first undertooke it;
For thimble, or bride-lace
Search yonder side lasse.
All's to be found,
If you looke your selves round;
We scorne to take from yee,
We had rather spend on yee,
If any man wrong yee,
The Theef's among yee.
Tovv.
Excellent i'faith, a most restorative Gipsie, all's here agen;
and yet by his learning of Legier-demaine, he would make
us beleeve we had robb'd our selves.
Co.
A Gipsie of qualitie beleeve it, and one of the Kings Gipsies; this
a Drinke-alian, or a Drinke-braggatan?
Aske him.
The King has his noyse of Gipsies, as well as of Bearwards, and other
Minstrells.
Pu.
What sort or order of Gipsies, I pray sir.
A Devils-arse-a Pekian;
Borne first at Niglington,
Bred up at Filchington,
Boarded at Tappington,
Bedded at Wappington.
Fore me, a dainty deriv'd Gipsie.
Pu.
But I pray sir, if a man might aske on you, how came your Captaines
place first to be call'd
the Devills-arse.
Pat.
For that take my word,
We have a record,
That doth it afford,
And sayes our first Lord,
Cocklorrell he hight,
On a time did invite
The Devill to a feast;
The tayle of the jeast,
Though since it be long,
Lives yet in a song;
Which if you would heare,
Shall plainly appeare.
Ile call in my Clarke
Shall sing like a Larke,
Come in my long sharke,
With thy face browne and darke;
With thy tricks, and thy toyes,
Make a merry merry noyse,
To those mad Country boyes,
And chant out the fart of the Grand-devils arse.
Song.
And had him once into the Peake to dinner,
Where never the Fiend had such a feast,
Provided him yet at the charge of a sinner.
The jogging had caus'd some crudities rise;
To helpe it he call'd for a Puritan poacht,
That used to turne up the egg's of his eyes
He sate him downe, and he fell to eate;
Promooter in plum-broth was the first dish,
His owne privie kitchin had no such meate.
Vpon a sudden he shifted his trencher
As soone as he spi'd the Bawd, and bacon,
By which you may note the devill's a wencher.
Sempsters, Tyrewomen, fit for his pallat;
With Feathermen, and perfumes put,
Some twelve in a Charger to make a grand sallet.
And by him a Lawyers head and green-sawce;
Both which his belly tooke in like a barrow,
As if till then he had never seene sawce.
Was brought up a cloven Serjants face;
The sauce was made of his Yeamans braines,
That had beene beaten out with his owne mace.
(The feast had nothing beene without 'em)
Both living, and dead, they were foxt, and fu'rd,
Their chaines like sawsages hung about 'em.
With a pudding of maintenance thrust in his belly;
Like a Goose in the feathers drest in his gowne,
And his couple of Hinch-boyes boyld to a jelly.
And when the Carver up had broke him;
The Devill chopt up his head at abit,
But the hornes were very neere like to have choakt him;
With a plumpe Harlots haunch and garlicke;
A Panders pettitocs that had boasted
Himselfe for a Captaine, yet never was warlicke.
And for a cold bak't meat into the story,
A reverend painted Ladie was brought,
And coffin'd in crust, till now she was hoary.
With a Clarke like a gizzard thrust under each arme;
And warrants for sippers, layd in his owne grease,
Set o're a chassing dish to be kept warme.
A Constable sous'd with vineger by;
Two Aldermen lobsters asleepe in a dish,
A Deputy tart, a Churchwarden pye.
Did for a full draught of Derby call;
He heav'd the huge vessell up to his nose,
And left not till he had drunke up all.
Where banquet, and wine were nothing scarce;
From whence it was call'd the Devils Arse.
The hole too standing open the while,
That the sent of the vapour, before, and behinde,
Hath fouly perfumed most part of the Isle.
Which since in Countrey, Court, and Towne,
In the Devills glister-pipe smoaks at the nose
Of Pollcat, and Madam, of Gallant; and Clowne.
Or any thing else thats feast for the Friend:
Our Captaine, and wee, cry God save the King,
And send him good meate, and mirth without end.
Pup.
An excellent song, and a sweet Songster, and would have
done rarely in a Cage, with a dish of water, and hempseed;
a fine breast of his owne: Sir you are a Prelate of the Order, I understand,
and I have a terrible grudging now upon mee to bee one of your
company; will your Captaine take a Prentise Sir? I would binde my
selfe to him bodie and soule, either for one and twenty yeares, or as manie
lives as he would.
Clo.
I, and put in my life for one, for I am come about too; I am
sorry I had no more money i'my purse when you came first upon us Sir;
If I had knowne you would have pickt my pocket so like a Gentleman,
I would have beene better provided; I shall bee glad to venter a purse
with your Worshippe at any time you'll appoint, so you would preferre
mee to your Captaine; Ile put in security for my truth, and serve out my
time, though I dye to morrow.
Coc.
I, upon those termes Sir, and in hope your Captaine keepes
better cheere then he made the Devill, for my stomacke will nere agree
with that dyet, wee'll be all his followers, Ile goe home and fetch a little
money Sir, all I have, and you shall picke my pocket to my face, and
i'le avouch it; A man would not desire to have his pocket pick't in better
company.
Pup.
Tut, they have other manner of gists then picking of pockets,
or telling fortunes; if they would but please to shew 'em, or thought us
poore Countrey mortalls worthy of them; what might a man doe to be
a Gentleman of your company Sir?
I, a Gipsie in ord'nary, or nothing.
Pat.
Freinds not to refell yee,
Or any way quell ye,
To buy or to sell ye,
I onely must tell ye;
Ye ayme at a mystery,
Worthie a History;
E're you can be a Sonne,
Or brother of the Moone,
Tis not so soone
Acquir'd, as desir'd.
You must be Ben-bowsie,
And sleepy, and drowsie,
And lasie, and lowsie,
Before ye can rowse yee,
In shape that arowse yee.
And then you may stalke
The Gipsies walke;
To the Coopes, and the Pennes,
And bring in the Hennes,
Though the Cocke be sullen
For losse of the Pullen:
Take Turkie, or Capon,
And Gammons of Bacon,
Let nought be forsaken;
Wee'll let you go loose,
Like a Foxe to a Goose,
And shew you the stie
Where the little Pigs lie;
Whence if you can take
One or two, and not wake
The Sow in her dreames,
But by the Moone beames;
So warily hye,
As neither doe cry.
You shall the next day
Have license to play
At the hedge a flirt,
For a sheet, or a shirt;
If your hand be light,
Ile shew you the slight
Of our Ptolomies knot,
It is, and 'tis not,
To change your complexion,
With the noble confection
Of Wall-nut s, and Hogs-grease,
Better then Dogs-grease:
And to milke the Kine,
Ere the Milke-mayd fine
Hath open'd her eine.
Or if you desire
To spit, or fart fire,
Ile teach you the knacks,
Of eating of flaxe;
And out of their noses,
Draw Ribbands, and posies,
Mine owne is as ample,
And fruitfull a nose,
As a wit can suppose;
Yet it shall goe hard,
But there will be spar'd,
Each of you a yard,
And worth your regard.
When they collour, and size
Arrive at your eyes.
And if you encline
To a cup of good wine,
When you suppe, or dine;
If you chance it to lacke,
Be it Clarret, or Sacke;
Ile make this snout,
To deale it about,
Or this to runne out,
As it were from a spout.
Tovv.
Admirable tricks, and he does 'em all se defendendo, as if he
would not be taken in the trappe of authority, by a fraile
fleshly Constable.
Pvp.
Without the ayd of a Cheese,
Clo.
Or helpe of a flitch of bacon.
Co.
Oh, he would chirp in a paire of stockes sumptuously; I'de give
any thing to see him play loose with his hands, when his feet were fast.
Pvp.
O'my conscience he feares not that, and the Marshall himselfe
were here; I protest I admire him.
Pat.
Is this worth your wonder,
Nay then you shall under-
Stand more of my skill.
I can (for I will)
Here at Burley o'th Hill,
Give you all your fill,
Each Jacke with his Gill,
And shew you the King,
The Prince too and bring;
The Gipsies were here,
Like Lords to appeare,
With such there attenders,
As you thought offenders,
Who now become new men,
Youle know them for true men;
For he we call cheife,
Ile tell't ye in breife,
Is so farre from a theife,
As he gives ye releife
With his bread, beare, and beife.
Ye dranke of his Wine,
And it made you fine;
Both Clarret, and Sherrie,
Then let us be merrie;
And helpe with your call,
For a Hall, a Hall.
Stand up to the wall,
Both good men, and tall,
We are one mans all.
Bevir.
The fist of August,
Will not let saw-dust
Lie in your throats,
Or cobwebs, or Oates;
But helpe to scoure ye.
This is no Gowrie,
Has drawne James hither,
But the goodman of Bever,
Our Buckinghams Father;
Then so much the rather
Make it a jolly night,
For tis a holy night,
Spight of the Constable,
Or Mas Deane of Dunstable.
All.
A Hall, a hall, a hall.
The Gipsies chang'd Dance.
Patrico.
Why now ye behold,
Twas truth that I told,
And no devise;
They are chang'd in a trice,
And so will I,
Be my selfe, by and by.
I onely now
Must studie how
To come off with a grace,
With my Patrico's place:
Some short kind of blessing,
It selfe addressing
Unto my good Master,
Which light on him faster,
Then wishes can flye.
And you that stand by
Be as jocund as I;
Give his heart to rejoyce,
Which I'le require,
If my Art hit right,
Though late now at night,
Each Clowne here in sight,
Before day light,
Shall prove a good Knight;
And your Lasses Pages
Worthie their wages,
Where fancie engages
Girles to their ages.
Clovv.
Oh any thing for the Patrico, what ist? what ist?
Pat.
Nothing, but beare the bob of the close,
It will be no burthen you well may suppose.
But blesse the Sov'raine, and his sences,
An to wish away offences,
Clo.
Let us alone, blesse the Sov'raine, and his sences.
Pat.
Wee'll take them in order, as they have being,
And first of seeing.
Pat.
1
From a Gipsie, in the morning,Or a paire of squint-eyes turning:
From the Coblin, and the spectre,
Or a Drunkard, though with Nectar;
From a woman true to no man,
Which is ougly, besides common;
A smocke rampant, and the itches,
To be putting on the breeches:
Wher so'ere they ha' their being,
Blesse the Sov'raine, and his seeing.
2
From a foole, and serious toyes;From a Lawyer, three parts noyse;
From impertinence, like a Drum
Beate at dinner in his roome;
From a tongue without a file,
Heapes of Phrases, and no stile.
From a Fiddle out of tune,
As the Cuckow is in June.
From the candlesticks of Lothbury,
And the lowd pure wives of Banbury:
Or a long pretended fit;
Meant for mirth, but is not it:
Onely time, and eares out-wearing,
Blesse the Sov'raine, and his hearing.
3
From a strolling Tinkers sheete,Or a payre of Carriers feet:
From a Ladie that doth breath,
Worse above, then underneath.
From the Diet, and the knowledge
Of the students in Beares-colledge.
From Tobacco, with the tipe
Of the Devills glister-pipe;
Or a stincke all stincks excelling,
A Fishmongers dwelling,
Blesse the Sov'raigne, and his smelling.
4
From an Oyster, and fry'd fishA Sowes babye in a dish:
From any portion of a Swine,
From bad Venison, and worse wine.
Ling, what Cooke so'ere it boyle,
Though with mustard sawc'd and oyle,
Or what else would keepe man fasting,
Blesse the Sov'raigne, and his tasting.
5
From a Doxie, and her itch.
From the brisles of a Hogge,
Or the ring-worme in a Dogge.
From the courtshippe of a brier,
Or St. Anthonies old fier.
From a needle, or a thorne;
I'the bed at Ev'n, or Morne.
Or from any Gowtes least grutching.
Blesse the Sov'raigne, and his touching.
In his sports, as in his sences.
From a Boy to crosse his way,
From a fall, or a foule day.
to be the sacred burthen of all song;
The Acts, and yeares, of all our Kings t'out go;
And while hee's mortall, we not thinke him so.
Song 1.
The sports are done, yet doe not let
Your joyes in suaden silence sett;
Delight, and dumbnesse never met
In one selfe subject yet.
If things oppos'd must mixt appeare,
Then adde a boldnesse to your feare,
And speake a hymne to him,
Where all your duties do of right belong,
Which I will sweeten with an under song.
Captaine.
Glory of ours, and grace of all the Eath;
How well your figure doth become your birth,
As if your forme, and fortune equall stood,
And onely vertue got above your blood.
Song 2.
[Jackman.]
Vertue; his Kingly vertue which did merrit
This Isle entire, and you are to inherit.
4 Gipsie.
How right he doth confesse him in his face,
His browe, his eye, and ev'ry marke of State;
As if he were the issue of each Grace,
And bore about him both his fame, and fate.
Song 3.
[Jackman.]
Looke , looke, is hee not faire,
And fresh, fragrant too
As Summer skie, or purged Aire,
And lookes as Lillies doe,
That were this morning blowne.
4 Gipsie.
Oh more! that more of him were knowne.
3 Gipsie.
Looke how the Windes upon the Waves growne tame,
Take up Land sounds upon their purple wings;
And catching each from other, beare the same
To ev'ry angle of their sacred springs.
About the Globe, in thousand Ay'ry rings,
If his great vertue be in lore with fame,
For that contem'd, both are neglected things.
Song 4.
[Jackman.]
Good Princes soare above their fame,
And in their worth,
Come greater forth,
Then in their name.
Such, such the Father is,
Whom ev'ry title strives to kisse;
Who on his Royall grounds unto himselfe doth raise,
The worke to trouble fame, and to astonish praise.
4 Gipsie.
Indeed hee's not Lord alone of all the State,
But of the love of men, and of the Empires fate.
The Muses Arts, the Schooles commerce, our honours lawes,
And Vertues hang on him, as on their working cause.
2 Gip.
His Hand-mayd Justice is,
3 Gip.
Wisedome, his Wife;
4 Gip.
His Mistresse, Mercie;
5 Gip.
Temperance, his life.
2 Gip.
His Pages bounty, and grace which many prove,
3 Gip.
His Guards are Magnanimitie, and love.
4 Gip.
His Ushers, Councell, Truth, and Pietie,
5 Gip.
And all that followes him, Felicitie.
Song 5.
[Jackman.]
Oh that we understood
Our good;
Ther's happinesse indeed in blood,
And store,
But how much more,
When vertu's flood
In the same streame doth hit?
As that growes high with yeares, so happinesse with it.
Captaine.
Love, love his fortune then, and vertues knowne,
Who is the toppe of men,
But makes the happinesse our owne;
Since where the Prince, for goodnesse is renownd,
The Subject with Felicitie is Crownd.
| A Masque of the Metamorphos'd Gypsies | |