University of Virginia Library

'Twas in that Month (as in old Writ I find)
Wherein the female, must be serv'd in kind,
And more precisely, if the time you seek,
It was about the very wast oth' week,
Inclining toward the Navel of the day.
'Ene betwixt Hawk & Buzzard (as they say)
In Holbourn hight whence Grays-Inn Gate not far is,
Whom should I meet with, but my Friend Jack Harris?
Th'unluckyest wag e're Mothers smock was wrapt in,
'Twas that same Jack, whose Christen name, is Captain.
With single eye, he quickly me espy'd,
For why? indeed I was oth' surer side.
Oh! School-fellow quoth he, well met! and by trips,
I'me sure, we seldome use to part, with dry Lips,
So back he comes again, a good luck on ye!
Thou wilt have drink, no matter who has Money.
Well! go thy waies! march on! I'le follow you,
On toward the Fair of St. Bartholomew!
But in the rode, near to the Wall of Hatton,
We happend upon Woman. Twas a fat one
And if Descriptions may not be distrustful,
She was full-ful ith' wast, or very wastful.
For persons of her calling, you may ask all,
If amongst twenty, you shall find one Rascall.
She ducks it home, I speak it to her laud, I
The Epithet, unto her House, was Baudy
Where though the Plying place, was then in Smith-field,
Was Wench enough as long as back could pith yeild
To hold us tack—indeed, of creature comfort
One might have had our's Belly, full, butmum for't!

Jack profferd once, but what? quoth he by G--- I,
Will make exchange, with thee, body for body,
And I dare swear 't, had been no robery,
'Twas such a Pockie piece of Mobery
But that which made my Worship, laugh ith' close,
She still was hitting Jack i'th Teeth, with's Nose,
And that is much, you'le say, whoe're shall see't,
To think his Nose and Teeth should ever-meet.
But in as dead a time, as e're was thought on
In comes Su. Cox, of yore, but now Su. Broughton
With Whores as fast as hops and thick as flyblows,
But could not hope for knocking here, but—dry blows.
As when our Tayles new suckt by Leech, are dry;
So are they now, as Kix, from Lechery
For were it upon pain of mickle worth,
I could not hint, much less have held it forth.
So, having pawnd our credit, there for eight pence,
We kiss, kind Mris. Lawes, and so go straight thence
Indeed it was that meer necessity,
That has none mov'd us to't, I press it t'ye,
Because we would not of the laws be guilty
The business was (like Norton's) base & filthy.

So now we bend our cause towr'd, Well of Clarken
Unlike to Aristotles, of you marken
Coming through Lane of Mutton street of Turnball
Where that Jone lives, whose plackets rent & torn all
Above the Rising of the Hill, there is one
The left hand, as you go a House of prison
Where Jack had been, upon a business,
I guess'd by his wry look, and that a true sign is.
So passing by John of Hierusalem,
Whom we cal St too what e're you cal him
To th'Red-bull-Widow we were one time wheeling;
Where some folk say, I've had a fellow-feling.
But let it pass away Jack Harris rambles,
Down by the place where lofty Turk shews Gambles.
Which we had seen too, but for dearth of six pence,
But they, who did, have never seen such tricks since.

Well! Jack drives on amain, a pox forsake him!
He made me sweat like grains, to overtake him
I call'd out friend! look here! by Wiccham's Crosyer,
Here lies a pretty Girle ith' lane of Hosyer,
Here at a Barbers House; I think it the man,
That kept Queen Madasina as his Leman.
I say (quoth Jack) come on! by Jove! I score her!
So never stops, nor staies, till at Pye Corner,
Where, in he turn's at house ye leped Castle.
For worse, full many a Gyant oft did wrastle
Here were the Beeves, the Muttons, and the pigs hot
A rare Encounter for man Chegan Quixot.
(He was a plaguy Mutton-man, vousavez,
But here's the Divel and all for the sowes Babyes.)
For at this time tis (true, as I do tell ye)
You may have pigs, and wenches by the belly.

Then strait appears, do but observe the hap, Sir,
One Jack call'd Name sake, there concern'd as Tapster,
As good a Lad, as ever handled spigget
Of powerful Sack and Ale (he's not for Swigget)
To whom our John (knowing no money stirr'd)
How doest thou chuck (quoth he) my honey bird?
Reply'd he (Capt. Dear) at all adventures
We'le wet our selves together. So Jack enters:
And trips up staires, as quick, as come penny,
Where we find, what's before good company!
Three female idle feaks, who long'd for pigs head.
(For near this place, there's many a hundr'd ligs dead)
Three strapping Queans, much like, for hanch and butteress,
Toboso's Dul, Mal, Tornes and Joan Gutterez.
One I accosted thus, wilt please you (Madam)
T'accept of Gloves, for Fairings (would you had 'um!)

But quoth the Man of Ale, what ist d'ye lack ho!
Some Canns (cryes Jack) an ounce oth' best Tobacco.
Which we suckt off, until our colours, rose high,
And knockt in peales, like to the Bells of Osney
Drink and more Drink still as for Gold, cry'd Midas,
Let's drink out Thursday, ne're take care for Fridays!

When up there comes two Demy Lads oth' catling,
Whom I rebuk't (quoth Jack) Hall! hold your pratling!
But oh! 'twas such a charming dose of Musick,
Would cure the Tarrantula were you sick,
Like to a Coffin, strung with guts of screech Owle,
And sung, as when somtimes y'have heard a Bich howle
Comparison, I know, no fitter one,
Then your hoars Whooping in a Reed of Bitteron,
And made more Mouths, in quarter of an hour,
Then ever God Almighty did four.
Their Trebles (too) were both High base, beside one
Oth' sticks, was like to that the Divel rides on.
But up they strike (and so does Jack) a plain Dance:
That Cratchet, ne're comes into's head, oth' Main-chance.
But he is rare for Friscols nay what's worse
He treads a measure, like a Millers Horse.

But in the Close of all, I beckoning,
Unto him, said how goes the Reckoning?
How shal this Nag be curry'd? tis a short one
And soon enough (quoth He) you Fidlers! sport on:
Play off your Canns (you Rogues) your Case I'le warrant,
If Fidle's good—inded, Jack, had a care on't.
For why! when Head was light as Cork or Feather,
And they had been, some thrice by th'Eares together
And were as drunk as ere, were Sowes of David!
(For while there's any Liquor moves they'l have it)
And busi'd were 'bove stairs, with bonny Bess
H'had left them Fidle (yea and money less.

Jack urg'd me to't, I made not any word,
Disliking Bardolph's Edge of penny, Cord,
And vile reproach: for had there tryal been
'Twould grieve one, suffer, for a Vyallin
And (Oxford Organist, like Meredeth)
Live merry life and dye a merry death.
But 'twould not fadge—Jack calling then his name sake
Did suffer what I could not do, for shame sake,
He did but proffer, in his Ear to Whisper,
To know how the Case stood, aut par, aut dispair,
But fancying (as it seems) Jacks way of payment,
Cryes Wellcome Gentlemen! ne're seizd on Royment.

I proud it was no worse, as erst with Pordage)
Rejoyc't at heart to be excus'd oth' Mortgage,
But clear of that (as after calm comes Tempest!
Ensures Sir Henryes woe, where you have him drest
In a sweet prickle sweeter sure, was never heard
Lest when at Divil, Iteby—pawn'd Everard.
Or else, that morn, at sign of Oxford, Beaton
For two and ten pence (faith! that was an at one.)

Well! from the Castle, as before I told ye)
We went to th'sign, of (what the Divel would ye?)
'Twas (as I take it) to the sign oth' White Hart,
Or Sign that he was Drunk, for then he's right for't:
But thither 'twas we went, where God shall sa'me)
I thought the Drawers, or the Divil, would ha'me,
For honest Jack had call'd, for Drink and more Drink,
Then goes for money (which trick some but poor think)
But you may hope, as quick return, from Phlegeton,
As from Jack Harris, if once he be gone.
And is he gone? the Divel go with him! I swear,
I felt him going, whilest he stayed there
For Jack (although he seldome goes to Church)
Ne're comes to Tavern but he leaves ith' lurch.

VVith Quart of Sack into a Box the wedge me,
VVhere who (the Divel!) did they think should pledge me?
Th'old Souldier's safe enough, and e'en as well is,
As heart, could wish, ith' smoke with Peter Ellis,
Or else good man (though I) being now past hope,
He's bayling Richardson, or Boyling Sope.
Then fancy'd I Jack's way of pay, by whisper,
The marke was fair enouhg, but faith! I mist her.
The Mistriss liking no such trick in ten,
Would hear no more, then did Brickenden
His Fathers Lectures—matter sure not much is,
I'le e'ne adventure, to escape your clutches,
When going, fairly off, in mine opinion;
(Drunk as the driven-snow or Leek or Onyon)
A fellow, tall of hand and foul of Finger,
Hardy of Toe (indeed he was a Swinger)
Begins to fall to's work, aboard he claps me,
(Or rather under board) whate're behaps me,
I must Endure, flings me, from Post to Piller,
In troth I bore that time, like any Thiller.

Then did he quit me, in length, thirteen paces,
Takes up agen,) A pox'on such Embraces!
Hold thy dead doing hand (quoth I) set Iron side,
But harder he, then was that Iron-side
Who manag'd Corbett, while yet liv'd my Grand Sir
Had no remorse, was like the Country Answer
To what's Clock! Iron Steel and brass upon't.
H'had made a puny, of Gines Passamont
(My story, sure may pass, ith' rank, of woe
Yanguesian Carryers! ne're us'd Sancho so.

He Chucks me, too and fro, like Doit or farthing,
But could not get a penny, by the bargin.
Until there came to me, as best became her,
One of a great House, was Sir, name to Chamber
With Mony, thick and thick, without ambages)
It was the gross Remainder of her Wages.
Some seven whole Groats, and half reserv'd sans mockings)
Out of her vast revenews to buy-stockings.
Which she did drop, peice-meal, since with her 'twas hard
And gave, by fits and girds as some get Bastard,
Or Divel Hors colts: finding her hard-hearted,
We like a fooll and's mony, were soon parted
And with dry thanks, to my redeemrest Betty
I e'ne go home, and there's an end— that's pitty!