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 |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet |  |
90
TAYLORS TRAVELS TO Pragve IN Bohemia.
[A Pamphlet (Reader,) from the Presse is hurld]
Reader, take this in your way.
A Pamphlet (Reader,) from the Presse is hurld,That hath not many fellowes in the world:
The manner's common, though the matter's shallow,
And 'tis all true, which makes it want a fellow.
91
[I come from Bohem, yet no newes I bring]
I come
from Bohem, yet no newes I bring,
Of busines 'twixt the Keysar and the King:
My Muse dares not ascend the lofty staires
Of state, or write of Princes great affaires.
And as for newes of battels, or of War,
Were England from Bohemia thrice as far:
Yet we doe know (or seeme to know) more heere
Then was, is, or will be euer knowne there.
At Ordinaries, and at Barbar-shops,
There tidings vented are, as thicke as hops,
How many thousands such a day were slaine,
What men of note were in the battle ta'ne,
When, where, and how the bloody fight begun,
And how such sconces, and such Townes were won;
How so and so the Armies brauely met,
And which side glorious victorie did get:
The moneth, the weeks, the day, the very houre,
And time, they did oppose each others powre,
These things in England, prating fooles doe chatter,
When all Bohemia knowes of no such matter.
For all this Summer that is gone and past,
Untill the first day of October last,
The armies neuer did together meet,
Nor scarce their eye-fight did each other greet:
The fault is neither in the foot or horse,
Of the right valiant braue Bohemian force,
From place to place they daily seeke the foe,
They march, and remarch, watch, ward, ride, run, goe,
And grieuing so to waste the time away,
Thirst for the hazard of a glorious day.
But still the Enemy doth playboe peepe,
And thinkes it best in a whole skin to sleepe,
For neither martiall policie, or might,
Or any meanes can draw the foe to fight:
And now and then they conquer, spoile and pillage,
Some few thatcht houses, or some pelting Village;
And to their trenches run away againe,
Where they like Foxes in their holes remaine,
Thinking by lingring out the warres in length,
To weaken and decay the Beamish strength.
This is the newes, which now I meane to booke,
He that will needs haue more, must needs goe looke.
Thus leauing warres, and matters of high state,
To those that dare, and knowes how to relate,
J'le onely write, how I past heere and there,
And what I haue obserued euery where,
I'le truely write what I haue heard and eyed,
And those that will not so be satisfied,
J (as I meet them) will some tales deuise,
And fill their eares (by word of mouth) with lies:
Of busines 'twixt the Keysar and the King:
My Muse dares not ascend the lofty staires
Of state, or write of Princes great affaires.
And as for newes of battels, or of War,
Were England from Bohemia thrice as far:
Yet we doe know (or seeme to know) more heere
Then was, is, or will be euer knowne there.
At Ordinaries, and at Barbar-shops,
There tidings vented are, as thicke as hops,
How many thousands such a day were slaine,
What men of note were in the battle ta'ne,
When, where, and how the bloody fight begun,
And how such sconces, and such Townes were won;
How so and so the Armies brauely met,
And which side glorious victorie did get:
The moneth, the weeks, the day, the very houre,
And time, they did oppose each others powre,
These things in England, prating fooles doe chatter,
When all Bohemia knowes of no such matter.
For all this Summer that is gone and past,
Untill the first day of October last,
The armies neuer did together meet,
Nor scarce their eye-fight did each other greet:
The fault is neither in the foot or horse,
Of the right valiant braue Bohemian force,
From place to place they daily seeke the foe,
They march, and remarch, watch, ward, ride, run, goe,
And grieuing so to waste the time away,
Thirst for the hazard of a glorious day.
But still the Enemy doth playboe peepe,
And thinkes it best in a whole skin to sleepe,
For neither martiall policie, or might,
Or any meanes can draw the foe to fight:
And now and then they conquer, spoile and pillage,
Some few thatcht houses, or some pelting Village;
And to their trenches run away againe,
Where they like Foxes in their holes remaine,
Thinking by lingring out the warres in length,
To weaken and decay the Beamish strength.
This is the newes, which now I meane to booke,
He that will needs haue more, must needs goe looke.
Thus leauing warres, and matters of high state,
To those that dare, and knowes how to relate,
J'le onely write, how I past heere and there,
And what I haue obserued euery where,
I'le truely write what I haue heard and eyed,
And those that will not so be satisfied,
J (as I meet them) will some tales deuise,
And fill their eares (by word of mouth) with lies:
The
Month that beares a mighty Emp'rors name,
(Augustus hight) I passed downe the streame,
Friday the fourth, just sixteene hundred twenty
Full Moone, the signe in Pisces, that time went I;
The next day being Saturday, a day,
Which all Great Brittaine well remember may.
When all with thankes doe annually combine,
Vnto th'Almighty maiesty diuine,
Because that day in a most happy season,
Our Soueraigne was preseru'd from Gouries treason;
Therefore to Churches people doe repaire,
And offer sacrifice of praise and prayer,
With Bels and bonfires, euery towne addressing.
And to our gracious King their loues expressing,
On that day, when in euery nooke and angle,
Faggots and bauins smoak'd, and bels did jangle:
Onely at Graues end, (why I cannot tell)
There was no sparke of fire, or sound of bell,
Their steeple, (like an instrument vnstrung,)
Seem'd (as I wish all scolds) without a tongue,
Their bonfires colder then the greatest frost,
Or chiller then their charities (almost)
Which I perceiuing, said, J much did muse,
That Graues-end did forget the thankefull vse,
Which all the townes in England did obserue;
And cause I did the King of Britaine serue.
J and my fellow, for our Masters sake,
Would (neere the water side) a bonfire make;
With that a Scotchman, Tompson by his name,
Bestowed foure faggots to encrease the flame,
At which to kindle all a Graues-end Baker,
Bestowed his bauine, and was our partaker:
We eighteene foote from any house retir'd,
Where we a Iury of good Faggots fir'd;
But e're the flame or scarce the smoake began,
There came the fearefull shadow of a man,
The Ghost or Jmage of a Constable,
Whose franticke actions (downeright dunce-stable,)
Arm'd out of France and Spaine with Bacchus bounty:
(Of which there's plenty in the Kentish County)
His addle coxcombe with tobacco puff'd
His guts with ale full bumbasted and stuff'd,
And though halfe blind, yet in a looking glasse,
He could perceiue the figure of an Asse;
And as his slauering chaps non sence did stutter,
His breath (like to a jakes) a sent did vtter,
His legs indenting scarcely could beare vp,
His drunken trunke (o're charg'd with many a cup)
This riffraff rubbish that could hardly stand,
(Hauing a staffe of office in his hand,)
Came to vs as our fire began to smother,
Throwing some faggots one way some another,
And in the Kings name did first breake the peace,
Commanding that our bonfire should succease,
The Scotchman angry at this rudenesse done,
The scattered faggots he againe layd on:
Which made the demy Constable goe to him,
And punch him on the brest, and outrage doe him;
At which a cuffe or twaine were giuen, or lent,
About the eares, (which neither did content.)
But then to he are how fearefull the asse braid,
With what a hideous noyse he howld for ayde,
That all the ale in Graues-end, in one houre,
Turn'd either good, bad, strong, small, sweet, or foure:
And then a kennell of incarnate currs,
Hang'd on poore Thompson like so many burrs;
Haling him vp the dirty streets, all foule,
(Like Diuels pulling a condemned soule.)
The Jaylor (like the grand deu'll) gladly sees.
And with an itching hope of fines and fees,
Thinking the Constable and his sweet selfe,
Might drinke and quaffe with that ill gotten pelfe;
For why such hounds as these, may if they will,
Vnder the shew of good, turne good to ill,
And with authority the peace first breake,
With Lordly domineering o're the weake,
Committing (oft) they care not whom or why,
So they may exercise themselues thereby,
And with the Iaylor share both fee and fine,
Drowning their damned gaine in smoake and wine:
Thus hirelings Constables, and Iaylors may,
Abuse the Kings liege people night and day,
I say they may, I say not they doe so,
And they know best if they doe so or no,
They hal'd poore Thompson all along the street,
Tearing him that the ground scarce touch'd his feet,
Which he perceiuing did request them cease
Their rudenesse, vowing he would goe in peace,
He would with quietnesse goe where they would,
And prayed them from his throat to loose their hold.
Some of the townesmen did intreat them there,
That they their barbarous basenesse would forbeare,
But all intreaty was like oyle to fire,
Not quench'd; but more inflam'd the scuruy Squire.
Then they afresh began to hale and teare,
(Like mungrell Mastiffes on a little Beare,)
Leauing kind Thompson neither foote or fist,
Nor any limb or member to resist.
Who being thus opprest with ods and might,
Most valiant with his teeth, began to bite,
Some by the fingers, others by the thumbs,
He fang'd within the circuit of his gummes;
Great pitty 't was his chaps did neuer close,
On the halfe Constables, cheekes, eares, or nose;
His seruice had deseru'd reward to haue,
If he had mark'd the peasant for a Knaue:
Yet all that labour had away beene throwne,
Through towne and Country he's already knowne;
His prisoner he did beat, and spurn'd and kick'd,
He search'd his pockets, (Jle not say he pick'd)
And finding as he said no mony there,
To heare how then the Bellweather did sweare,
And almost tearing Thompson into quarters,
Bound both his hands behind him with his garters,
And after in their rude robustious rage,
Tide both his feet, and cast him in the Cage,
There all night he remained in louzie litter,
Which for the Constable had beene much fitter,
Or for some vagabond (that's sprung from Caine,)
Some Rogue or runnagate, should there haue laine,
And not a Gentleman that's well descended,
That did no hurt, nor any harme intended:
But for a bonfire in fit, time and place,
To bee abus'd and vs'd thus beastly base,
There did J leaue him till the merrow day,
And how he scap'd their hands J cannot say.
This piece of Officer, this nasty patch,
(Whose vnderstanding sleepes out many a Watch)
Ran like a towne bull, roaring vp and downe,
Saying that we had meant to fire the towne;
And thus the Diuell his Master did deuise,
To houlster out his late abuse with lyes,
So all the street downe as I past along,
The people all about me in a throng.
Calling me villaine, traitor, rogue and thiefe,
Saying that I to fire their towne was chiefe.
I bore twe wrongs as patient as J might,
Vowing my pen should ease me when J write;
Like to a grumbling cur, that sleepes on hay,
Eates none himselfe, driues other beasts away.
So this same fellow would not once expresse,
Vnto his Prince, a subiects ioyfulnesse,
But cause we did attempt it (as you see)
H'imarison'd Thompson, and thus slandered me.
Thus hauing eas'd my much incensed muse,
I craue the reader this one fault excuse,
For hauing vrg'd his patience all this time,
With such a scuruy Subiect, and worse rims;
And thou Graues-endian officer take this,
And thanke thy selfe, for all that written is,
'Tis not against the towne this tale I tell,
(For sure there doth some honest people dwell,)
But against thee thou Fiend in shape of man,
By whom this beastly outrage first began,
Which I could doe no lesse but let thee know,
And pay thee truely what J long did owe,
And now all's euen betwixt thou and I,
Then farewell and be hang'd, that's twice God bwye.
(Augustus hight) I passed downe the streame,
Friday the fourth, just sixteene hundred twenty
Full Moone, the signe in Pisces, that time went I;
The next day being Saturday, a day,
Which all Great Brittaine well remember may.
When all with thankes doe annually combine,
Vnto th'Almighty maiesty diuine,
92
Our Soueraigne was preseru'd from Gouries treason;
Therefore to Churches people doe repaire,
And offer sacrifice of praise and prayer,
With Bels and bonfires, euery towne addressing.
And to our gracious King their loues expressing,
On that day, when in euery nooke and angle,
Faggots and bauins smoak'd, and bels did jangle:
Onely at Graues end, (why I cannot tell)
There was no sparke of fire, or sound of bell,
Their steeple, (like an instrument vnstrung,)
Seem'd (as I wish all scolds) without a tongue,
Their bonfires colder then the greatest frost,
Or chiller then their charities (almost)
Which I perceiuing, said, J much did muse,
That Graues-end did forget the thankefull vse,
Which all the townes in England did obserue;
And cause I did the King of Britaine serue.
J and my fellow, for our Masters sake,
Would (neere the water side) a bonfire make;
With that a Scotchman, Tompson by his name,
Bestowed foure faggots to encrease the flame,
At which to kindle all a Graues-end Baker,
Bestowed his bauine, and was our partaker:
We eighteene foote from any house retir'd,
Where we a Iury of good Faggots fir'd;
But e're the flame or scarce the smoake began,
There came the fearefull shadow of a man,
The Ghost or Jmage of a Constable,
Whose franticke actions (downeright dunce-stable,)
Arm'd out of France and Spaine with Bacchus bounty:
(Of which there's plenty in the Kentish County)
His addle coxcombe with tobacco puff'd
His guts with ale full bumbasted and stuff'd,
And though halfe blind, yet in a looking glasse,
He could perceiue the figure of an Asse;
And as his slauering chaps non sence did stutter,
His breath (like to a jakes) a sent did vtter,
His legs indenting scarcely could beare vp,
His drunken trunke (o're charg'd with many a cup)
This riffraff rubbish that could hardly stand,
(Hauing a staffe of office in his hand,)
Came to vs as our fire began to smother,
Throwing some faggots one way some another,
And in the Kings name did first breake the peace,
Commanding that our bonfire should succease,
The Scotchman angry at this rudenesse done,
The scattered faggots he againe layd on:
Which made the demy Constable goe to him,
And punch him on the brest, and outrage doe him;
At which a cuffe or twaine were giuen, or lent,
About the eares, (which neither did content.)
But then to he are how fearefull the asse braid,
With what a hideous noyse he howld for ayde,
That all the ale in Graues-end, in one houre,
Turn'd either good, bad, strong, small, sweet, or foure:
And then a kennell of incarnate currs,
Hang'd on poore Thompson like so many burrs;
Haling him vp the dirty streets, all foule,
(Like Diuels pulling a condemned soule.)
The Jaylor (like the grand deu'll) gladly sees.
And with an itching hope of fines and fees,
Thinking the Constable and his sweet selfe,
Might drinke and quaffe with that ill gotten pelfe;
For why such hounds as these, may if they will,
Vnder the shew of good, turne good to ill,
And with authority the peace first breake,
With Lordly domineering o're the weake,
Committing (oft) they care not whom or why,
So they may exercise themselues thereby,
And with the Iaylor share both fee and fine,
Drowning their damned gaine in smoake and wine:
Thus hirelings Constables, and Iaylors may,
Abuse the Kings liege people night and day,
I say they may, I say not they doe so,
And they know best if they doe so or no,
They hal'd poore Thompson all along the street,
Tearing him that the ground scarce touch'd his feet,
Which he perceiuing did request them cease
Their rudenesse, vowing he would goe in peace,
He would with quietnesse goe where they would,
And prayed them from his throat to loose their hold.
Some of the townesmen did intreat them there,
That they their barbarous basenesse would forbeare,
But all intreaty was like oyle to fire,
Not quench'd; but more inflam'd the scuruy Squire.
Then they afresh began to hale and teare,
(Like mungrell Mastiffes on a little Beare,)
Leauing kind Thompson neither foote or fist,
Nor any limb or member to resist.
Who being thus opprest with ods and might,
Most valiant with his teeth, began to bite,
Some by the fingers, others by the thumbs,
He fang'd within the circuit of his gummes;
Great pitty 't was his chaps did neuer close,
On the halfe Constables, cheekes, eares, or nose;
His seruice had deseru'd reward to haue,
If he had mark'd the peasant for a Knaue:
Yet all that labour had away beene throwne,
Through towne and Country he's already knowne;
His prisoner he did beat, and spurn'd and kick'd,
He search'd his pockets, (Jle not say he pick'd)
And finding as he said no mony there,
To heare how then the Bellweather did sweare,
And almost tearing Thompson into quarters,
Bound both his hands behind him with his garters,
And after in their rude robustious rage,
Tide both his feet, and cast him in the Cage,
There all night he remained in louzie litter,
Which for the Constable had beene much fitter,
Or for some vagabond (that's sprung from Caine,)
Some Rogue or runnagate, should there haue laine,
93
That did no hurt, nor any harme intended:
But for a bonfire in fit, time and place,
To bee abus'd and vs'd thus beastly base,
There did J leaue him till the merrow day,
And how he scap'd their hands J cannot say.
This piece of Officer, this nasty patch,
(Whose vnderstanding sleepes out many a Watch)
Ran like a towne bull, roaring vp and downe,
Saying that we had meant to fire the towne;
And thus the Diuell his Master did deuise,
To houlster out his late abuse with lyes,
So all the street downe as I past along,
The people all about me in a throng.
Calling me villaine, traitor, rogue and thiefe,
Saying that I to fire their towne was chiefe.
I bore twe wrongs as patient as J might,
Vowing my pen should ease me when J write;
Like to a grumbling cur, that sleepes on hay,
Eates none himselfe, driues other beasts away.
So this same fellow would not once expresse,
Vnto his Prince, a subiects ioyfulnesse,
But cause we did attempt it (as you see)
H'imarison'd Thompson, and thus slandered me.
Thus hauing eas'd my much incensed muse,
I craue the reader this one fault excuse,
For hauing vrg'd his patience all this time,
With such a scuruy Subiect, and worse rims;
And thou Graues-endian officer take this,
And thanke thy selfe, for all that written is,
'Tis not against the towne this tale I tell,
(For sure there doth some honest people dwell,)
But against thee thou Fiend in shape of man,
By whom this beastly outrage first began,
Which I could doe no lesse but let thee know,
And pay thee truely what J long did owe,
And now all's euen betwixt thou and I,
Then farewell and be hang'd, that's twice God bwye.
94
[This is a Tub of Tubs, Tub of Tubs hall]
This is a Tub of Tubs, Tub of Tubs hall,Who ne're had fellow yet, nor euer shall;
O had but Diogenes but had this a ton,
He would had thought that he more roome had won,
Then Alexanders Conquests, or the bounds,
Of the vast Ocean and the solid grounds.
Or had Cornelius but this tub, to drench
His Clients that had practis'd too much French,
A thousand hogsheads then would haunt his firkin,
And Mistris Minks recouer her lost mirkin.
This mighty Caske great Bacchus vs'd to stride,
When he to drunkards hall did often ride.
95
Bathing himsefe in Rhenish for disport.
But now these eight yeares it hath dry beene kept;
In it the wine God hath not pist or wept;
That now the Chappell, and the Caske combine,
One hath no preaching, t'other hath no wine.
And now the vse they put it to is this,
'Tis shew'd for mony, as the Chappell is.
97
[There for a token I did thinke it meet]
There for a token I did thinke it meet,To take the shooes from off this Prince his feet:
I doe not say I stole, but I did take,
And whil'st I liue, Ile keepe them for his sake:
Long may his Grace liue to be styl'd a man,
And then Ile steale his bootes too, if I can.
The shooes were vpright shooes, and so was he
That wore them, from all harme vpright and free:
He vs'd them for their vse, and not for pride,
He neuer wrong'd them, or e're trode aside.
Lambskin they were, as white as Innocence,
(True patternes for the footsteps of a Prince,)
And time will come (as I doe hope in God)
He that in childhood with these shooes was shod,
Shall with his manly feet once trample downe,
All Antichristian foes to his renowne.
98
[Prague is a famous, ancient, Kingly seate]
Prague is a famous, ancient, Kingly seate,In scituation and in state compleate,
Rich in aboundance of the earths best treasure,
Proud and high minded beyond bounds or measure,
In Architecture stately; in Attire,
Beizonians Plebeians doe aspire,
To be apparell'd with the stately port
Of Worship, Honour, or the Royall Court;
Their Coaches, and Caroches are so rife,
They doe attend on euery trades-mans wife,
Whose Husbands are but in a meane regard,
And get their liuing by the Ell or Yard,
How euer their Estates may bee defended,
Their wiues like demy Ladies are attended:
I there a Chimney-sweepers wife haue seene,
Habilimented like the Diamond Queene,
Most gaudy garish, as a fine Maid-marrian,
With breath as sweet as any suger carrion,
With sattin cloak, lin'd through with budg or sable,
Or cunny furre, (or what her purse is able)
With veluet hood, with tiffanies, and purles,
Rebatoos frizlings, and with powdred curles,
And (lest her hue or sent should be attainted,)
She's antidoted, well perfum'd and painted,
She's fur'd she's fring'd, she's lac'd, and at her wast:
She's with a massie chaine of siluer brac'd,
She's yallow starch'd, and ruff'd, and cuff'd, and muff'd,
She's ring'd, she's braceleted, she's richly tuff'd,
Her petticote good silke as can be bought,
Her smock about the tale lac'd round and wrought,
Her gadding legges are finely Spanish booted,
The whilst her husband liked a slaue all sooted,
Lookes like a Courtier to infernall Pluto,
And knowes himselfe to be a base cornuto.
Then since a man that liues by Chimney sweepe,
His wife so gaudy richly clad doth keepe,
Thinke then but how a Merchants wife may goe,
Or how a Burgamasters wife doth show;
There by a kinde of topsie turuy vse,)
The women weare the bootes, the men the shooes.
I know not if't be profit or else pride,
But sure th'are oft'ner ridden then they ride:
These females seeme to be most valiant there,
Their painting shewes they doe no colours feare.
Most Art-like plastring Natures imperfections,
With sublimated, white and red complexions;
So much for Pride I haue obserued there,
Their other faults, are almost euery where.
99
[Sixe things vnto a Trauailer belongs]
Sixe things vnto a Trauailer belongs,An Asses backe, t'abide and beare all wrongs:
A fishes tongue (mute) grudging speech forbearing.
A Harts quick eare, all dangers ouerhearing,
A dogs eyes, that must wake as they doe sleepe,
And by such watch his corpes from perill keepe.
A swines sweet homely tast that must digest
All Fish, Flesh, Rootes, Fowle, foule and beastly drest;
And last, he must haue euer at his call
A purse well lynde with coyne to pay for all.
100
[You that haue bought this, grieue not at the cost]
You that haue bought this, grieue not at the cost,There's something worth your noting, all's not lost,
First halfe a Constable is well bumbasted,
If there were nothing else, your coynes not wasted,
Then I relate of hils, and dales, and downes,
Of Churches, Chappels Pallaces, and Townes,
And then to make amends (although but small)
I tell a tale of a great tub withall,
With many a Gallowes, Gybbet and a wheele,
Where murd'rers bones are broke from head to heele
How rich Bohemia, is in wealth and food,
Of all things which for man or beast is good.
How in the Court at Prague (a Princely place,
A gracious Queene vouchsafed me to grace,
How on the sixteenth day of August last,
King Fredericke to his royall Army past,
How fifty thousand were in armes araid,
Of the Kings force, beside th'Hungarian ayde,
And how Bohemia strongly can appose,
And cuffe and curry all their daring foes.
Then though no newes of state may heere be had,
I know here's something will make good men glad,
No bringer of strange tales I meane to be,
Nor Ile beleeue none that are told to me.
FINIS.
| All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet | |