University of Virginia Library

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:

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.