University of Virginia Library

Now all was well silent as may be,
But poor Æneas like a Babe
Simpers, and cannot chuse but cry
And put his finger in his eye
To tell her Highness of the down-
Fall, of that pretty place Troy Town;
Madam, quoth he, may't please your Grace
I can't but make a soure face,

To tell you how;—
And here he stopt, and made a pause,
And scarce could speak, but 'twas because
Tears trickled down his Malmsy Nose,
To think of all the Trojan Woes;
At last in words smoother then butter,
He thus began his mind to utter,
For ten long years with much adoe
We have those Grecians overthrew,
Many a scar as I suppose,
Many a good sound bloody nose;
We cuft their chaps, and broke their shins,
And yet the Rogues still came ag'in's,
“We never could be quiet for 'um,
“Pox on those Rogues for I abhor 'um;
We bang'd, and soust them up for Codfish,
But yet at last they prov'd but odd Fish;
For when we thought that all was past,
These youngsters had a trick at last:
A huge great Horse they sent us hither
Ill luck, the Devil and all together:
In him six hundred men they put,
I think Old Nick was in his gutt:
Altho' some say there were no more
Men, then five hundred ninety four,
All Tall and Lusty War-like Chuffs,
For most men say they were in Buffs:
This Trojan Horse, as Homer Notes,
Was fill'd with Men, instead of Oates:
Provender good enough, alas!
For what is mortal man but grass.
There is a little Pretty Isle
Not far from thence, about a mile;
I'm sure of this, that 'tis a Town,
To those that dwell in it well known:
Its name I know not, some suppose,
The Name of it is Tenedos;
'Twas rich when Priam rul'd the rost,
But now as poor as I almost;
There's neither Iron Barr, nor Grate,
Percullas, Chain, or Bolt, or Gate,
Yet 'twas a wealthy place of old,
For there King Priam kept his gold;
There also under Lock and Key,
He put his Chiefest Treasury;
But now it is a place of landing,
Where water-men do take their standing:
Hither the crafty Grecians come,
We thinking they had been gone home,
Ope our Town-Gates, Frolick, and Bouse
Drink Sherry, in a full Carouse;
And Madam, for to tell you true,
We thought no harm no more then you;
All 'gin to wonder at this Horse,
Thymetes draws it in by force;
Capys (a wiser man) the Chyrurgion,
Would have it thrown in for a Sturgion:

As the Colt at Huntington,
was voted for a Sturgion.

Laocon running from the Tower,
Would fain have spoke, but had not Power:
This Youth when he should guard the trenches
Was alwayes twifling with his Wenches;
At last by getting breath, he thus
Began in Language furious;
Genteels, what madness, rage, and fury
Doth you, to these dire actions hurry,
'Slead (quoth he) 'twas his common Oath,
Yet there is one alive that doth
Protest he never heard him swear
By any but by Jupiter;
But lets go on, thats gone and past,
He knew not what he said in hast;
He had a weapon keen and fierce,
That through a Bull-hide-shield would pierce
A Lance it was with Iron picke,
Th' one end would thrust the other stick;
With this he ran with might and main,
And thrust it through and through again,
And lifting up his hindmost legg,
He pull'd it out, as 'twere a pegg;
He jerkt his sides and firckt his Toby,
Like Aspin leaf then shooke his Hobby;
And straight from his disgorged belly
Sent such a sound I cannot tell ye.
Have you not seen a Kilderkin
Fil'd up with liquor to the brim,
Which when you strike it with your fist
It speaks no louder then it list;
But when it sounds most wondrous dull,
You all conclude the Barrels full:
So when Laocon heard the sound
Which from this Monster did rebound,
He straight cries out, Sirs let me tell ye,
Our foes are lodg'd within his belly,
And if by chance they should come to us,
I tell you they would quite undoe us,
Robb all our Hen-rousts, nay yet further,
They'd kill our Cowes, and Bullocks murther,
Nay some of them will be so base as
To fling the Egg-shels in our faces;
They'l kill our Horse-men, and Dragoons,
Shirk Pis-pots, Porringers, and Spoons;
'Tis now, quoth he, no time to Rhyme,
Look to your selves, 'tis pudding time:
Mean while was brought before King Priam,
As tall a proper Man as I am
Bound fast with Ropes, for I presage,
It was not then the Iron Age;
To say the truth, ye shall not meet,
A taller Fellow in our street,
You need not question much his valour,
For he was born and bred a Taylor;
His hair inclining was to yellow,
Methinks it was a pretty fellow:
This man was brought in such a hurly,
Set all our Towns-folk in a burly;
And that which did encrease the fray,
Was cause it was our market-day:
Each Prentice came with his Maid-Marion,
As crows do flock to stinking Carrion;
All sorts to jear him came a gazing,
As Butchers croud to a Bear-baiting:
Hither me all our people flocks,
As we were going to the stocks,
When as alass! there's no such thing,
For he was going to the King.
This fellow was a subtile wight,
And one that knew as well to fight
As eat, his Breakfast for his bread,
He knew which side was buttered;
An 'inted Villain, as I've seen,
Car'd not for life, or death a pin:
This Varlet was as you shall see,
As full of craft as Treachery;
For lifting up his fist on high,
H' invokes the sacred Deity;
The stars he calls by Christen Names,
As you should call Jack, Tom, or James,
And casting up the white of's eyes,
He thus began to Apologize:

Quoth he, may it your Highness please,
I must confess I came from Greece;
Turn'd out of house, and home, and fobb'd
Of all my goods, and money robb'd:
For I have liv'd in as good fashion,
As any Gaffer of our Nation,
Nay I have kept a gallant house,
Never without pudding, or souce;
My men could come to the bren cheese,
And go to th' cubbard when they please;
Now pinch'd with cold (till Troy be thank't
To keep me warm, I got a blanket,
And porridge too; the Servants they,
Sup Sinon, tis good broth) did say:
And now they've left me not a stitch,
Nor scarce a tatter to my breech,
But this poor Mantle, which you see,
Which truly, scarce is worth a flee;
A good cloath coat, the Rogues did lurch,
I never wor't, but once to Church;
Their cross-grain'd tricks, I knew no more
Then Lilly, who beray'd his dore.
Poor honest Sino that's my name,
Call't what you please, I'm still the same;
Thus went he on with his flim flam prattel,
To tell us what good store of Cattel
He had, and things not worth the hearing,
As when he made the last Sheep-sharing:
Thus did he all his stock unriddle,
As easily as thread a niddle;
At last tears trickling from his eyes,
We little thought that all was lies:
And hearing of his sad complaint,
Took him no less then for a Saint;
The old Wives hearts and stomacks did rise
Young Maids were pierc'd unto the kidnies;
But in the end of his Narration,
He made such sober Application,
That he made all our mouths to water,
To hear the fag end of the matter;
We call'd him honest man, and bid him
Go on, and tell us what betid him;
Chear up, saith one, I'le burn the Rod,
My Chuck, my Joy, my Nicola Cod;
He scare could speak, but cry'd a while
As he had been a sucking child,
At last, wiping his nose from snot,
He thus began to lay his plot:
Revenge, Revenge, O sweet Revenge!
More toothsom then Calves-head & henge,
Quoth he, my Master's all I'le take
My Oath, you made their hearts-blood ake.
They oft-times thought to hoyse up sayle
There was no hopes for to prevail;
They all cry'd out that it did seem
In vain to strive against the stream:
The raging Sea did oft-times toss 'um,
The winds & waves contriv'd to cross 'um;
Oft-times it did Thunder and Lighten,
Which did the Grecians sore affrighten;
Somtimes a storm would come, you'd think
That all their ships would strait-way sink;
Thus when they saw their wit, did fail 'um
They wondred what the Devil ayl'd 'um;
They all began to stamp and stare,
As mad as ever was March Hare;
At last they sent with wondrous speed
A man to the Oracle of Phæbe,
Who coming nigh the Sacred Stones,
Fell down upon his Marrow-Bones:
At last he having got his Answer,
Did come away like any man Sir;
Quoth he, the Gods did me advise,
To offer up a Sacrifice;
And drawing out his rusty hanger,
Cries this, this must appease their anger;
With that they all resolv'd that I
Must be the man prepar'd to dye;
And straitway clapt me up in Prison,
Where I was for a little season;
And when they had my hand fast bound,
They put me straightway in lobs pound;
An ugly hole it was, and which,
Was e'en as dark as any pitch,
So low it was, you scarce could stand in,
So dark, you scarce could see your hand in;
I was in such a wofull plight,
I could not fetch a nap all night;
I told our Town-Clock all along,
I heard the Chimes go ding, ding, dong:
At last when day began to peep,
I cunningly away did creep,
And in an Apple-Tree I hid me,
Where a good honest woman bid me;
And now I was as safe and sound,
As one had giv'n me twenty pound:
But now I must nev'r look to see
My Friends, nor yet my Friends see me:
My pretty bantlings, great and small
Heavens keep them, and protect them all:
And now ye Trojans show some pitty,
As you are Free-Men of the City.
Thus hearing of the sad Narration,
We all began to show compassion,
And those that did mark the preamble,
Their gutts within them, 'gan to wamble,
For it would move a very stone,
To see a pudding creep alone:
But seeing of the King of Troy,
He cry'd aloud, Vive Le Roy;
And as he had a Trojan been,
He shouted forth, God save the Queen:
With that King Priam could not chuse
But smile, and bid his foot Boyes loose
His hands, and feet, and presently
He was as free as you or I.
Our King then standing bolt upright,
Did his most gracious Speech recite,
Quoth he, Friend never be dismay'd,
Here's none will hurt you, ben't afraid
I warrant ye, that there is no man,
But what's a true and trusty Trojan;
And so I hope that you will be,
Truly I like your physognomy;
You seem to be an honest Creature,
You have a good ingenious feature:
But now good honest Master Sino,
There is one thing still which I would fain know,
And if to me you will but vent it,
You ner'e shall have cause to repeat it;
Truly I'le take it very kind,
If you will tell me all your mind;
Come tell me true, indeed, indeed,
What means this monstrous wooden-stead;
For truly give me leave to tell ye,
I some-what do dislike his belly;
Though Master Sino I am loath,
To look a gift-Horse in the mouth:
This man I think, as I'm a sinner,
Loved mischief better then his dinner:
For falling down at the Kings feet,
He thus began to counterfeit;
Quoth he, by all the petty Gods,
I know not what set you at odds;
Nor yet what tis that makes you fite,
Like Catts, and Doggs, to scratch and bite;
I'm sure tis I that got the harme,
I've lost a very goodly Farme;
The ground was left me by my Grannum,
It brought in thirteen pounds per Annum;
Besides there was a pretty garden,
But I have lost it every farthing:
The Lamps of Heaven, know I tell
The naked truth, of what befell;
And that which vanquisht all our fear,
He clos'd his Speech with many a tear:
And then another mischief fell us,
Which truly did as good as tell us,
That what the fellow did to us tell,
Was in a manner true as Gospel.
Laocon casting lots, was eft-soon,
Chosen to be the Priest of Neptune:
Some say in th' twinkling of an eye,
This Youngster he could cog a dye;
And if't be true, as folks do say,
I needs must tell you 'twas foul play,
And tho' he wins at first, tis five
To one, if cheating play doth thrive:
For as he lookt with steadfast eyes,
Offring to the Gods a sacrifice:
Behold, two hugeous Snakes appear,
At that we all began to fear;
Laocon wonders what's the matter,
They both straight jumpt out of the water,
And hissing, leapt into his face,
The Priest was in a shitten case;
Now 'gan the Sea to roar, 'twas said,
Neptune himself was half afraid:
We seeing such a sight begun,
Each man to take his heel and run;
We minded not the Priest at all,
Each for himself, and he for all;
The Priest began to screek, nay further,
Some people heard him cry out murther:
Have you not seen a Causset Lamb,
Ta'n by the Butcher from his Damb,
How it doth cry, struggle, and strive,
As being loath to loose his life:
So did Laocon, cry and bellow,
Just so as I'm an honest fellow;
No man did pitty him at all,
Some did him Rogue and Rascall call,
For striking of this Trojan Steed,
All cry'd you are justly serv'd indeed;
And now the Folk withall their Power,
Do place this Horse within their Tower:
But know the bigness of this Beast
Was such, our Gate was at the least;
And presently our Towns-Folks all,
'Gin to pluck down a piece of wall;
Some got Pick-Axes, and Hammers,
Some got Mattocks, Spade and Rammers;
There's old to do, and such a pother,
Some got one thing, some another;
As busie all as body-lice,
They pull'd the wall down in a trice;
And now they all do tugg, and strives,
As they were tugging for their lives:
The Maids did come and make a shift,
To give a pull at a dead lift;
And know tis true that Maids can then,
Tugg best of all when they're with men;
They were as white as on May-Day,
Truly I think they made a Play-day:
At last with many a pleasant ditty,
We got him safe into the City;
Some thrust before and some behind,
I think the Devil, we all were blind:
Now when the night began to peep,
'Twas time for honest men to sleep;
Our towns-men all were wearied,
Thought it high time to go bed;
Some on the floor, and in their cloaths,
Others began to Sing Old Rose;
Some reel'd to Bed, others to Mows,
As drunk as any Davids Sows:
And now the Greeks with forty Oare,
From Tenedos soon got to shore;
And in the dead time of the night,
They all prepared themselves to fight:
We all were snorting, great and small,
And never dreamt of it at all;
Sino that Rogue the door did ope,
And down they all came by a rope;
Down slides Petides, Neoplotum,
Machaon, Menelaus did follow 'um,
Tysandrus, Stenelaus, Ulisses,
As stout a Souldier as now pisses:
Down they all foal with mickle care,
By which I find this Horse a Mare:
They kill'd our Bell-Man, and his Bitch,
I think the Men were all bewitcht:
They arm'd themselves, and every man
Had got a cudgel in his hand,
And breaking open our town gate,
Their Comrades sally in thereat;
And as the Gods would have it happen,
Truly the Rogues did catch us napping:
Indeed I think as it did hap,
I had but newly fetcht a nap;
Behold stout Hector, he that died,
Did seem to stand at my Bed-side;
Good Heer he lookt as he had been
Twice eaten, and spew'd up agen;
He came just so as he was worried,
When he about our walls was hurried;
His mouth was full of blood and foam,
His hair as 't had been never comb'd;
His beard was rough and over-grown him,
A little more I had not known him;
I know not how I should, because
He was not like the man he was;
Who after many wars, and toyles,
Use to come laden home with spoyles:
Now he's no more like the same Royster,
Then a good pipping, like an Oyster;
And as he to the bed did creep,
It griev'd me for to see him weep:
At first I lay as in a maze,
At last I broke out in this phrase:

Thou trusty Trojan, valiant Peere,
What a Devil makes thee here?
Quoth he, begon, thou and thy sire,
For all our towns are on a fire;
The Child unborn may rue the day,
For lack of Butter-Milk and Whay;
Quoth he, 'twill be a direfull Theam,
To tell the loss of Curds and Cream:
Make hast away, you'l be undone,
Destroyed every Mothers Son;
'Tis now too late to put a hand to,
No man can do more then he can do;
We are ruin'd every Mother Son,
Pack up the rodlings, and be gone:
That word did make my heart to ake,
I think was time for me to wake,
I started up, and rubb'd mine eyes,
And to the window presently;
Where soon as I had lookt about,
I presently did spy the rout:
As soon as e're they met a man
They knockt him down, and bid him stand;
With that I fetcht my Sword and Spear,
And down I went a Volunteer:
When I came down, I swore I sat 'um,
My fingers itch't for to beat him:
Upon my head I put a Capp,
For who knows what mischief may hap;
The rogues may break ones head with stones
More wayes to kill a dogg then one.
Now as I past along the street,
Who should I but Otrides meet,
With's Child at's back, mid'st all this rout
With's baggage he was marching out:
How goes the Market, honest friend
Quoth I? He seem'd not to attend
To what I spoke; at last he sayes,
Butter is butter now a dayes:
You need not fight you'r ne'r the nigher,
For all the fat is in the fire;
Sino, that Rascal with a match,
Has set on fire all the thatch.
But yet Æneas never hang'd
An arse, for fear of being bang'd;
He's not so cowardly as those,
Who cry to see a bloody nose;
But is resolved rather then yield,
To dye with honour in the field:
And thus with courage out he goes,
Kill, or be killed by his foes;
With him there went a many more,
Truly, I think well nigh a score
Young lusty Men, some in this Nick
Of time, had gotten faggot sticks;
But that which made me almost laugh,
Dymus came running with a Bed-staff:
Yet for all that, Gentleman-like,
Æneas he did trayle a Pike:
Soon as he spy'd these lusty Souldiers,
He clapt each man upon the Shoulders;
Quoth he, chear up my Boyes, I say,
It shan't be se'd we lost the day;
For you must understand, this fight
Was in the dead time of the night:
Chear up my dainty Boyes, come, come,
'Tis now in vain to stand hum, drum:
You see in what a wofull plight
We 're in, it stands in hand to fight;
Kill or be kill'd, no quarter give,
We will not let these Villains live;
Although the thing doth me perplex,
Necessitas non habet Lex:
As when two Masty Dogs do fight,
And quarrel meerly out of spight;
Besure the Currs shall never lack
Some standers by, to clap their backs,
Spit in their mouths, and cry Haloo,
Thus did Æneas do so too;
But yet Æneas also fell
To it himself, and fight pell-mell;
At last we backt him, and fell to't all,
Though two to one is odds at foot-ball:
We met an hundred men or more,
When we were not above a score;
I think I'm pretty near the matter,
But yet we made their bones to clatter;
We thrasht so hard, we'd make 'um feel,
Although the Rogues were made of steel:
But who is able to recite,
The mischief that was done that night;
They broke our windows, burnt our barns,
They did us God knows how much harms;
Kill'd all our brood-hens, stole our chicks,
And serv'd us many such like tricks;
Eat all our custards, though I spoke t'um,
And pray'd um not, I wish t'ad choak'd um:
To close their stomacks last of all,
They got the Wench against the wall.
Ah! who can chuse but weep and pitty,
The loss of such a Gallant City;
Now 'tis a common thing to meet,
Dead Carcasses in every street;
So that as men do walk the town,
Sometimes they chance to tumble down;
Sometimes we light upon a Greek,
And then I think we made him reek;
Before we let him go, we worst him,
We caught Androgeos and purst him;
Who all along with us did walk
A street or two, and 'gan to talk,
For he i'th' dark, poor silly elfe,
Thought us as bad Rogues as himself;
And as you know, birds of a feather,
Most commonly do flock together.

Quoth he, come Fellow-Souldiers under
Favour, lets now begin to plunder
For honey, now let's 'gin to dive,
We'v' burnt the Bees out of their Hive:
At last he knew 'twas a mistake,
And then his heart began to ake;
He crept away, his speech did falter,
Lear'd like a dog, that slipt his halter;
And streight this melancholly Bustard,
Stood trembling like a quaking Custard:
And presently soon as he spoke,
We got him fast hold by the Cloak,
Tript up his heeles, and flung him down,
And beat him as he lay oth' ground;
We doust his chopps as he did rise,
All the foul play we could devise;
And then at last we cut off's head,
Then most did think the man was dead:
And now our men begin to try,
What they can get by policy;
One gets his Boots made of good Leather,
Another takes his Cap and Feather;
Ripheus got his Gallant Shield,
The very best in all the Field;
Another got his little Dagger,
(Dymus it was) it made him swagger:
Thus cloath'd all over in a Wolves skin,
We with the Greeks did challenge kin;
Grew wondrous great, bid him good morrow
Before 'twas light, 'twas to their sorrow;
We swore if that they'd not be civil,
We'd send them packing to the Devil:
Must they knock people on the heads,
That men can't rest within their beds;
With that we swing'd our cudgels round,
Our heads, and soon did clear the ground;
For hitty misty, soon we slew,
Some we knockt down, and some or'threw;
Women out of their windows cry'd
Ther's nothing lost but what's beside;
With that all run, and ended strife,
As they were running for their life:
Behold King Priams Oldest Daughter,
Drawn by th' hair of th' head came after:
She was a Virgin spruce and neat,
And one that could have done the feat.
King Priam would have paid her down
In marriage, near an hundred pound;
Seeing of this sight, Chorebus
Was like a mad Man, furious;
Truly he scarcely could forbear
To pull, and tear of all his hair;
Some people said they'd lay their life,
That he and she was Man and Wife;
This was that Dame, for whom his soule
Was burnt in's belly like a cole;
Sometimes he stamp't, and cry'd a pox,
And then he 'gan to wind his locks;
If's hair he cares not for a Figg,
Truly then he must wear a Wigg:
He run amongst 'um all, and fitt,
Either without much fear or wit;
Then we resolv'd to loose a limb,
Or two, or three, to rescue him;
And to't we fell, our men did fear
Their foes, it seems, when none were near;
And by our Helmets they mistook,
And us in th' dark for Grecians took;
And from our house-top broke our Files
And Ranks, with brick-bats and old tiles:
Now there began a dreadfull slaughter,
They made our bones within us chatter,
Now all our policy appears,
We cannot keep it for our ears;
Now they make signs to one another,
And there began a filthy puther;
All fall upon us now and bang us,
And some could find their hearts to hang us;
But truly that was not the fashion,
Nor yet the custome of our Nation:
Short bands are come up now a dayes,
We found out divers other wayes;
There's none of us escap'd at all,
Chorebus fared worst of all;
For that which truly is a sin,
They kickt him twice on the sore shin;
Forrh-with they all began to hy 'um,
Into the Palace of King Priam;
A pretty place it was with lock
And key, and iron bolt to knock;
But that their Captain never knocks,
But broke it open with a Pox;
The Maid comes scolding with her broom,
And swore they durt'ed every room;
Quoth she, what serves the mat at door,
But for to wipe your hoofes before
You enter in; thus having said,
She flings away, a tite neat Maid;
Yet they resolv'd forward to budge,
And made the wench to be their trudge;
Up stairs they run unto the King,
And here they fight like any thing;
Off goes their bands, and to't they go,
I know not who struct the first blow;
And when they'd done, they gin to send
Away, what they could rap and rend;
Pure Feather-beds, Blankets, and Bolsters,
Folks said they sold them at th' Upholsters;
New flaxen sheets, as white as snow,
Ther's no help for 'um, all must go;
Tho for those sheets her Highness crav'd,
Alas! there was not one rag sav'd;
And what was worse (these were but trash)
They seized upon all the Kings Cash;
Some kept the door with naked sword
So stout, they'd scarcely speak a word:
I saw all well enough, for I
Lurk't in a hole most cunningly,
Top of a house, where we laught whiles
We broke their heads with piece of tiles;
At last the Grecians burnt our Fort,
And so they spoyled all our sport;
Feeling their num-sculls ake in ire,
The Kings house now they gan to fire;
They light their squibs with bits of match,
Fung 'um for th' once amongst the thatch,
And that began to reek and smoak,
Enough the King and Queen to choak;
They pull'd up all the posts and benches,
And made sad rout among'st the wenches,
Flung stones, & some broke all the casemts,
At that the King was in amazement;
All the carv'd works they tumbled down,
And lay in heaps upon the ground;
Money enough I'm sure it cost,
Abundance of good Timber lost;
The chamber where the King and Queen were,
Now lies like any thorough-fare;
Yet some will say tell's what became
Of this King Priam and his Dame;
The King was old, and had gin o're
To fight, being pretty near fourscore;
But when they did him thus incite,
No flesh alive could chuse but fight;
He steps and fetches out his Dagger,
And is resolv'd to go and Swagger;
But being old, pray understand,
That he was no man of his hands;
And as he marcht along, behold
An antient Laurel Tree ('twas old;)
Hecuba when they did assault her,
Hither me flew into an Altar,
She and her Daughters all flock thither,
As Pigeons flock in rainy weather;
Or, as when in a Summers Day,
Maids in the Fields are making Hay,
If it doth chance to rain they fly,
Unto a Hay-cock presently.
She seeing of her Husband stout,
Going amongst the rabble rout,
Lord, quoth she, he's a weakly Causlet,
I think has more need of a Possit;
She beckned, call'd him by his name,
At last, he hearing of her came;
Quoth she, my love, what makes thee here,
They'v' over-come us all I fear;
Alass! thou canst do little good,
Thy blowes are easily withstood;
Come stand with us, let's care not whether
They'v' beat, we'll live or dye together:
Thus said, she took him by the hand,
So he obeyed her command;
Potites then a lusty Boy,
Son of King Priam King of Troy,
Came running by, did cry and hallo,
Pyrrhus soon after him did follow,
A lusty thief, able you know
To knock a youth down, at one blow;
Just at this Altar him he took
And slew; the old man could not brook,
But call'd him Rogue, Son of a Whore,
To slay his Son at his own door:
And like a fool, though still among
His foes, yet could not hold his tongue;
The man was mad, his fingers itch,
Takes him a good kick on the breech;
With that he starts, and cryes, why so,
What's that for you Sir? do you know;
Quoth th' old man, shall I tell you why,
Takes him o'th' chaps immediately;
Pyrrhus at that began to swear,
Runs to him, gets him by the hair;
Th' old man cryes out, show no foul play,
You coward, let me rise, I say;
For truly as most people said,
He had a vile tongue in his head;
Yet Pyrrhus stabb'd him on the ground,
Cut's throat, and laid him in a swound:
Æneas seeing things so sad,
Truly was in a manner mad.
Now with himself he 'gan to think,
What he should do for meat and drink;
Thought of his Father and his Wife,
Devis'd how he might save their life,
His little Boy, Julus him
He vows he'l save, if sink or swim;
He saw his Men for fear of harms,
Were gone, and flung down all their arms;
As you know turn-spits lear and run
Away, when they the wheele do shun;
As who should say, the cursed Elfes,
Command your doggs, and do't your selfes:
And he poor man walking alone,
Spy'd Helen sitting on a stone,
That very self same ugly puss,
That made our town be ransackt thus;
For had it not been for that Queen,
None of this mischief ne're had been;
She privily did lurk for fear,
As if for sooth no man should see her;
Thus when he understood the matter,
He was e'n mad for to be at her:
For, quoth he, shall this ugly puss,
Be let alone in quiet thus?
Shall she go home to Greece and brag,
She has not left us worth a rag?
No, no, quoth he, it shan't be thus,
Marry come up my dirty Cuz;
And with his Sword went in a Freak,
To put the Woman to the Squeak;
But yet he with himself thus thought,
To kill a Woman were but nought,
And truly 'tis a thing not common,
To set ones wit against a Woman:
As he was thinking this and tother,
Who should Æneas spy but's Mother;
She came from Heav'n with her bright eye,
As if she had been a God a mighty:
Quoth she, what art thou Bedlam grown?
Was ever such a Villain known
To fall upon a Woman kind,
Go meddle with thy match, thou fiend:
Where hast thou left thy good old grandsire,
Go keep him safe like any man Sir?
Be quick, and save thy Boy, thy Wife,
They'l be undone I'le lay my life;
Make hast, things now are not well pleasing,
Ther's difference 'twixt farting & sneezing,
'Twas neither Tyndarus nor Paris
But Jove, that fires all the Daryes:
Thus said, she vanisht from his sight,
He askt her blessing, so good night.
Now was he in a peck of fears,
In troubles over head and ears;
Many attempts he made and puttons,
He whin'd as though his arse made buttons;
He saw all fire round about 'um,
Somtime he thought for to have fought um;
But they were all such plagy swashers,
They laid about 'um all like thrashers;
He saw that Plot would not prevail,
He knew not how to use a flayle;
And so in such a sad condition,
He ran and flung down his commission;
Thought best to take his Mothers council,
And hasted to his Fathers groundsil,
Where soon as ever he got there,
He found his Grand-sire in a chair;
Truly I think so Jove would have it,
His Dad was safe at home (God save it;)
And tho Æneas fain would trudge,
This cross old man swore he'd not budge;
Let me alone, quoth he, in ire,
I'm warm enough, here's a good fire;
Go fight my Boyes, you'r young and lusty,
I'le take my chance my Trojan trusty;
Æneas begg'd of this old tost,
And would have kist his breech almost;
He begg'd along time for God sake,
Yet he's as stiff as any stake:
With that a warlike Resolution,
Æneas puts in Execution,
Girds on his sword, tho ne're the nigher,
Plucks a good club out of the fire,
And is resolv'd out of a pet,
To kill the first Greek that he met;
But yet his Wife she fetcht him back,
With a good Cudgel at his back;
For he would let her (silly fool)
Comb his head with a three leg'd stool:
She brought him home, here gan the racket
Creusa soundly bang'd his jacket;
Sirra quoth she, keep within doors,
Run me no runs amongst your whores;
You are a pretty youth to fight,
Pray are you not? marry go—
You'l fling your cap against the wind,
And leave your Wife and Child behind;
With ladle then in spight of fate,
She made a shift to break his pate;
Poor man he quickly past it o're,
He'd many a broken pate before;
He clapt his hand upon his breech,
To show he minded not her speech;
Anchises now mid'st these despaires,
Held up his fists and fell to prayers,
He was an old cunning Impostor,
Rattled out many a Pater noster;
He told his beads, was very Apish,
For folks say, he was a rank Papish:
Then Jove heavens cloudy vault did tear,
Like an almighty Canoneer;
And after that a star they spide a
Shooting from our lot to Mount Ida;
There it did glide and gently hie,
And gave them items how to fly;
The good old man was glad to see 't,
And then began to handle his feet,
He pray'd this Star to stand his friend,
Away he walkt and ther's an end.
Not far from thence good people there is
A Country House of Farmer Ceres,
Where hobnayl'd Louts do use to labour
And thrash a Gig to Pipe and Tabor;
That was the House we all did chuse,
Wherein to make our Rendevouz.
Thus said, he took up his Old Sire,
Brought him a pick pack through the fire;
He took his little Boy by th' fist,
His Wife could foot it if she list;
She was a lusty Quean could trudge,
And thirty Miles together budge;
And he that Greeks so lately slighted,
Is now at his own shadow frighted;
For coming to unlatch the door,
We heard a very great uproar;
Fly, fly, my Son, quoth old Ancluses,
Or else we shall be cut in slices;
Amaz'd to think of further strife,
Walking by-paths he lost his Wife:
Now he was in a deadly fright,
Never in such a wofull plight,
He lookt, and lookt, but ne'r the near,
The fewer, tho the better chear:
We met at Ceres Mannour; all
But that old toast that rotten squal;
And finding there no hope to get her,
He curst and swore in terms most bitter
To lose ones Wife, me thought was much,
He swore he'd have another touch:
Up to Troy Town he made a sally,
He searcht all Corners, each blind Ally;
In Juno's house Ulisses stood,
He and his Dame with all their Brood;
To these the Souldiers brought the plunder,
The Pot, the Pot-hookes, never wonder,
The dripping Pan; (this comes of strife)
The skellet, and the chopping knife;
When I had por'd in every hole,
At last I spy'd Creusa's soul;
I shook, but truly could not speak,
She came from th' Devil's Arse of Peak;
But she spake like the Devil's Dam,
A flattring Slut, 'twas but a flam;
Saith she, hang sorrow, cast off care,
For every man will have his Mare;
It was not this when I did bid thee,
Now there's no help for't, no remedie;
Ye all must wander ('gainst your hips-ease,
Like Errand Knights, or Roguish Gipsies;
At Carthage, till you do arrive,
Truly the Gods did thus contrive;
Then thou shalt fish on Tybers Ouse,
And catch red Herrings with hard roes;
Thou shalt be rich, eat Grapes, stu'd Quinsies,
Marry, but not a German Princess:
Weep not for me my dear with ill moanes,
With tears as big as any Mill-Stones;
Two Mirmidons, nor Dollop chuffs,
Shall I be had with Iron cuffs;
Nor wait on Grecian Lady gay,
For I'm as well, and warm as they;
Venus is my Mother in Law,
For all the Grecians then a straw.
And now farewell my Chuck, my Joy,
My Love, I pray thee to the Boy;
Having thus sed, she did depart,
In wind that whistled like a fart:
Thrice strove I for to clip and kiss her,
So many times just I did miss her;
And now return'd I back again
Unto my much recruted men;
Rogues, whores, with Bastards at their backs
Came to transport themselves by packs,
What Sea or Land so're I took,
They'd go with me by hook or crook;
And now the day began to peep,
'Tis time for Rogues to go to sleep:
Seeing Troy Town was gone to wrack,
He got his Father on his back,
And having gone about a mile,
Stay'd here to rest himself a while.