The works of Sr William Davenant ... Consisting of Those which were formerly Printed, and Those which he design'd for the Press: Now published Out of the Authors Originall Copies |
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The long Vacation in London, in Verse Burlesque, or Mock-Verse.
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 | The works of Sr William Davenant |  |
289
The long Vacation in London, in Verse Burlesque, or Mock-Verse.
Now Town-Wit sayes to witty Friend,
Transcribe apace all thou hast pend;
For I, in Journey hold it fit,
To cry thee up to Countrey-Wit.
Our Mules are come! dissolve the Club!
The word, till Term, is rub, O rub!
Transcribe apace all thou hast pend;
For I, in Journey hold it fit,
To cry thee up to Countrey-Wit.
Our Mules are come! dissolve the Club!
The word, till Term, is rub, O rub!
Now Gamster poor, in Cloak of Stammel,
Mounted on Steed, as slow as Cammel,
Battoone of Crab in luckless hand,
(Which serves for Bilboe and for Wand)
Early In Morne does sneak from Town,
Least Landlords wife should seise on Crown;
On Crown which he in Pouch does keep,
When day is done to pay for sleep;
For he in Journey nought does eat.
Host spies him come, cryes, Sir, what Meat?
He calls for Room, and down he lies
Quoth Host, no Supper Sir? he cryes,
I eate no Supper, fling on Rug!
I'm sick, d'you hear, yet bring a Jug!
Now Damsel young that dwels in Cheap:
For very joy begins to leap,
Her Elbow small she oft does rub;
Tickled with hope of Sillabub!
For Mother (who does Gold maintain
On Thumbe, and Keys in Silver Chaine)
In Snow White Clout, wrapt nook of Pye,
Fat Capons Wing, and Rabbets Thigh,
And said to Hackney Coachman, go,
Take Shillings six, say I, or no,
Whither says he? Quoth she, thy Teame,
Shall drive to place where groweth Creame.
Mounted on Steed, as slow as Cammel,
Battoone of Crab in luckless hand,
(Which serves for Bilboe and for Wand)
Early In Morne does sneak from Town,
Least Landlords wife should seise on Crown;
On Crown which he in Pouch does keep,
When day is done to pay for sleep;
For he in Journey nought does eat.
Host spies him come, cryes, Sir, what Meat?
He calls for Room, and down he lies
Quoth Host, no Supper Sir? he cryes,
I eate no Supper, fling on Rug!
I'm sick, d'you hear, yet bring a Jug!
Now Damsel young that dwels in Cheap:
For very joy begins to leap,
Her Elbow small she oft does rub;
Tickled with hope of Sillabub!
For Mother (who does Gold maintain
On Thumbe, and Keys in Silver Chaine)
In Snow White Clout, wrapt nook of Pye,
Fat Capons Wing, and Rabbets Thigh,
And said to Hackney Coachman, go,
Take Shillings six, say I, or no,
Whither says he? Quoth she, thy Teame,
Shall drive to place where groweth Creame.
But Husband gray now comes so Stall,
For Prentice notch'd he strait does call:
Where's Dame quoth he, quoth Son of Shop,
She's gone her Cake in Milk to Sop:
Ho, ho! to Islington; enough!
Fetch Job my son, and our Dog Ruffe!
For there in Pond, through Mire and Muck,
We'l cry, hay Duck, there Ruffe, hay Duck!
For Prentice notch'd he strait does call:
Where's Dame quoth he, quoth Son of Shop,
She's gone her Cake in Milk to Sop:
Ho, ho! to Islington; enough!
Fetch Job my son, and our Dog Ruffe!
For there in Pond, through Mire and Muck,
We'l cry, hay Duck, there Ruffe, hay Duck!
Now Turnbal-Dame by starving Paunch,
Bates Two Stone Weight in either Haunch:
On Branne and Liver she must Dine;
And sits at Dore instead of Signe.
She softly says to roaring-Swash,
Who wears long Whiskers, go, fetch Cash!
There's Gown quoth she, speak Broaker fair,
Till Term brings up weak Countrey Heir:
Whom Kirtle red will much amaze;
Whilst Clown his Man on Signes does gaze,
In Liv'ry short, Galloome on Cape,
With Cloak-Bag Mounting high as Nape.
Bates Two Stone Weight in either Haunch:
On Branne and Liver she must Dine;
And sits at Dore instead of Signe.
She softly says to roaring-Swash,
Who wears long Whiskers, go, fetch Cash!
There's Gown quoth she, speak Broaker fair,
Till Term brings up weak Countrey Heir:
Whom Kirtle red will much amaze;
Whilst Clown his Man on Signes does gaze,
290
With Cloak-Bag Mounting high as Nape.
Now Man that trusts, with weary Thighs,
Seeks Garret where small Poet lies:
He comes to Lane, finds Garret shut;
Then not with Knuckle, but with foot
He rudely thrusts, would enter Dores;
Though Poet sleeps not, yet he snores:
Cit chafes like beast of Libia then;
Sweares, he'l not come or send agen.
From little Lump triangular
Poor Poets sighes, are heard afar.
Quoth he, do noble Numbers chuse
To walk on feet; that have no shoose?
Then he does wish with fervent breath,
And as his last request ere Death,
Each Ode a Bond, each Madrigal,
A Lease from Haberdashers Hall,
Or that he had protected bin
At Court, in List of Chamberlain;
For Wights near Thrones care not an Ace,
For Woodstreet Friend that wieldeth Mace.
Courts pay no Scores but when they List,
And Treasurer still has Cramp in Fist;
Then forth he steales; to Globe does run;
And smiles, and vowes Four Acts are done:
Finis to bring he does protest,
Tells ev'ry Play'r, his part is best.
And all to get, (as Poets use)
Some Coyne in Pouche to solace Muse.
Seeks Garret where small Poet lies:
He comes to Lane, finds Garret shut;
Then not with Knuckle, but with foot
He rudely thrusts, would enter Dores;
Though Poet sleeps not, yet he snores:
Cit chafes like beast of Libia then;
Sweares, he'l not come or send agen.
From little Lump triangular
Poor Poets sighes, are heard afar.
Quoth he, do noble Numbers chuse
To walk on feet; that have no shoose?
Then he does wish with fervent breath,
And as his last request ere Death,
Each Ode a Bond, each Madrigal,
A Lease from Haberdashers Hall,
Or that he had protected bin
At Court, in List of Chamberlain;
For Wights near Thrones care not an Ace,
For Woodstreet Friend that wieldeth Mace.
Courts pay no Scores but when they List,
And Treasurer still has Cramp in Fist;
Then forth he steales; to Globe does run;
And smiles, and vowes Four Acts are done:
Finis to bring he does protest,
Tells ev'ry Play'r, his part is best.
And all to get, (as Poets use)
Some Coyne in Pouche to solace Muse.
Now Wight that acts on Stage of Bull,
In Skullers bark does lie at Hull;
Which he for pennies two does Rig,
All day on Thames to bob for Grig:
Whilst Fencer poor does by him stand,
In old Dung-Lighter, Hook in hand;
Between knees rod, with Canvas Crib,
To girdle Tide, close under Rib;
Where Worms are put which must small Fish
Betray at Night to Earthern Dish.
In Skullers bark does lie at Hull;
Which he for pennies two does Rig,
All day on Thames to bob for Grig:
Whilst Fencer poor does by him stand,
In old Dung-Lighter, Hook in hand;
Between knees rod, with Canvas Crib,
To girdle Tide, close under Rib;
Where Worms are put which must small Fish
Betray at Night to Earthern Dish.
Now London's Chief, on Sadle new,
Rides into Fare of Bartholemew:
He twirles his Chain, and looketh big,
As if to fright the Head of Pig,
That gaping lies on greasy Stall,
Till Female with great Belly call.
Rides into Fare of Bartholemew:
He twirles his Chain, and looketh big,
As if to fright the Head of Pig,
That gaping lies on greasy Stall,
Till Female with great Belly call.
Now Alderman in field does stand,
With foot on Trig, a Quoit in hand;
I'm seaven quoth he, the Game is up!
Nothing I pay, and yet I sup.
To Alderman, quoth Neighbour then,
I lost but Mutton, play for Hen:
But wealthy Blade cryes out; at Rate
Of Kings, should'st play; lets go, tis late.
Now lean Atturney, that his Cheese
Ne'r par'd, nor Verses took for Fees;
And aged Proctor, that controules,
The feats of Punck in Court of Pauls;
Do each with solemn Oath agree,
To meet in Fields of Finsbury:
With Loynes in Canvas Bow case tyde;
Where Arrows stick with mickle pride;
With Hats pinn'd up, and Bow in hand,
All day most fiercely there they stand;
Like Ghosts of Adam, Bell, and Clymme:
Sol sets for fear they'l shoot at him.
With foot on Trig, a Quoit in hand;
I'm seaven quoth he, the Game is up!
Nothing I pay, and yet I sup.
To Alderman, quoth Neighbour then,
I lost but Mutton, play for Hen:
But wealthy Blade cryes out; at Rate
Of Kings, should'st play; lets go, tis late.
291
Ne'r par'd, nor Verses took for Fees;
And aged Proctor, that controules,
The feats of Punck in Court of Pauls;
Do each with solemn Oath agree,
To meet in Fields of Finsbury:
With Loynes in Canvas Bow case tyde;
Where Arrows stick with mickle pride;
With Hats pinn'd up, and Bow in hand,
All day most fiercely there they stand;
Like Ghosts of Adam, Bell, and Clymme:
Sol sets for fear they'l shoot at him.
Now Spynie, Ralph, and Gregorie small,
And short hayr'd Stephen, Whay-fac'd Paul,
(Whose times are out, Indentures torn)
Who seaven long years did never skorne,
To fetch up Coales for Maid to use,
Wipe Mistresses, and Childrens Shooes)
Do jump for joy they are made free;
Hire meagre Steeds, to ride and see,
Their Parents old who dwell as near,
As Place call'd Peake in Derby-shire.
There they alight, old Croanes are milde;
Each weeps on Cragg of pretty Childe:
They portions give, Trades up to set,
That babes may live, serve God and cheat.
And short hayr'd Stephen, Whay-fac'd Paul,
(Whose times are out, Indentures torn)
Who seaven long years did never skorne,
To fetch up Coales for Maid to use,
Wipe Mistresses, and Childrens Shooes)
Do jump for joy they are made free;
Hire meagre Steeds, to ride and see,
Their Parents old who dwell as near,
As Place call'd Peake in Derby-shire.
There they alight, old Croanes are milde;
Each weeps on Cragg of pretty Childe:
They portions give, Trades up to set,
That babes may live, serve God and cheat.
Near House of Law by Temple-Bar,
Now man of Mace cares not how far,
In Stockings Blew he marcheth on,
With Velvet Cape his Cloack upon;
In Girdle, Scrowles, where names of some,
Are written down, whom touch of Thumbe,
On Shoulder left must safe convoy,
Anoying Wights with name of Roy.
Poor Pris'ners friend that sees the touch,
Cries out, aloud, I thought as much.
Now man of Mace cares not how far,
In Stockings Blew he marcheth on,
With Velvet Cape his Cloack upon;
In Girdle, Scrowles, where names of some,
Are written down, whom touch of Thumbe,
On Shoulder left must safe convoy,
Anoying Wights with name of Roy.
Poor Pris'ners friend that sees the touch,
Cries out, aloud, I thought as much.
Now Vaulter good, and dancing Lass,
On Rope, and Man that cryes hey pass,
And Tumbler young that needs but stoop,
Lay head to heel to creep through Hoope;
And Man in Chimney hid to dress,
Puppit that acts our old Queen Bess,
And Man that whilst the Puppits play,
Through Nose expoundeth what they say:
And Man that does in Chest include,
Old Sodom and Gomorrah lewd:
And white Oate-eater that does dwell;
In Stable small at Sign of Bell:
That lift up hoofe to show the prancks,
Taught by Magitian, stiled Banks;
And Ape, led Captive still in Chaine,
Till he renounce the Pope and Spaine.
All these on hoof now trudge from Town,
To cheat poor Turnep-eating Clown.
On Rope, and Man that cryes hey pass,
And Tumbler young that needs but stoop,
Lay head to heel to creep through Hoope;
And Man in Chimney hid to dress,
Puppit that acts our old Queen Bess,
And Man that whilst the Puppits play,
Through Nose expoundeth what they say:
And Man that does in Chest include,
Old Sodom and Gomorrah lewd:
And white Oate-eater that does dwell;
In Stable small at Sign of Bell:
That lift up hoofe to show the prancks,
Taught by Magitian, stiled Banks;
And Ape, led Captive still in Chaine,
Till he renounce the Pope and Spaine.
All these on hoof now trudge from Town,
To cheat poor Turnep-eating Clown.
292
Now Man of War with Visage red,
Growes Chollerick and sweares for Bread.
He sendeth Note to Man of Kin,
But man leaves word, I'm not within.
He meets in Street with friend call'd Will;
And cryes old Rogue! what living still?
But er' that Street they quite are past,
He softly asks, what Money hast?
Quoth friend, a Crown; he cryes, dear heart!
O base, no more, Sweet, lend me part!
Growes Chollerick and sweares for Bread.
He sendeth Note to Man of Kin,
But man leaves word, I'm not within.
He meets in Street with friend call'd Will;
And cryes old Rogue! what living still?
But er' that Street they quite are past,
He softly asks, what Money hast?
Quoth friend, a Crown; he cryes, dear heart!
O base, no more, Sweet, lend me part!
But stay my frighted Pen is fled;
My self through fear creep under Bed;
For just as Muse would scribble more,
Fierce City Dunne did rap at Door.
My self through fear creep under Bed;
For just as Muse would scribble more,
Fierce City Dunne did rap at Door.
| The works of Sr William Davenant | |