University of Virginia Library

To his verie Louing Friend Master George Lee.

Esteemed friend, I pray thee take it kinde,
That outward action beares an inward minde,
What obiects heere these papers do deliuer,
Bestow the viewing of them for the giuer.
I make thee a partaker of strange fights,
Drawne antique works of humours vaine delights.
A mirrour of the mad conceited shapes,
Of this our ages giddy-headed apes,
These fash'on mongers, selfe besotted mon
Of kindred to the fowle that wore my pen,
Are at an howers warning to appeare,
And muster in sixe sheetes of Paper heere.
And this is all at this time I bestow,
To euidence a greater loue I owe.

Reader.

As many antique faces passe,
From Barbers chaire vnto his glasse,
There to behold their kinde of trim,
And how they are reform'd by him,
Or at Exchang where Marchants greete,
Confusion of the tongues do meete,
As English, French, Italian, Dutch,
Spanish, and Scot'sh, with diuers such.
So from the Presse these papers come
To show the humorous shapes of some.
Heere are such faces good and bad,
As in a Barbers shop are had,
And heere are tongues of diuers kindes,
According to the speakers mindes.
Beholde their fashions, heare their voice,
And let discretion make thy choice.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Some man that to contention is inclin'de]

Some man that to contention is inclin'de;
With any thing he sees, a fault wil finde,
As, that is not so good, the same's amisse,
I haue no great affection vnto this.
Now I protest I doe not like the same,
This must be mended, that deserueth blame,
It were farre better such a thing were out,
This is obscure, and that's as full of doubt.
And much adoe, and many words are spent
In finding out the path that humours went,
And for direction to that Idle way
Onely a busie tongue bears all the sway.
The dish that Aesope did commend for best,
Is now a daies in wonderfull request,
But if you finde fault on a certaine ground,
Weele fall to mending when the fault is found,

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Pra'y by your leaue, make moūsieur humors roome]

Pra'y by your leaue, make moūsieur humors roome
That oft hath walk'd about Duke Humphries tombe
And sat amongst the Knights to see a play,
And gone in's suite of Sattin eu'ry day,
And had his hat display a bushie plume,
And's verie beard deliuer forth perfume.
But when was this, aske Frier Bacons head
That answered Time is past, O time is fled!
Sattin and silke was pawned long agoe,
And now in canuase, no knight can him knowe.
His former state, in darke obliuion sleepes,
Onely Paules Gallarie, that walke he keepes.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Crosse not my humor, with an ill plac'd worde]

Crosse not my humor, with an ill plac'd worde,
For if thou doest, behold my fatall sworde:
Do'st see my countenance begin looke red?
Let that fore-tell ther's furie in my hed.
A little discontent will quickely heate it.
Touch not my stake, thou wert as good to eate it,
These damned dice how cursed they deuoure:
I lost some halfe score pound in halfe an houre,
A bowle of wine, sirha: you villaine, fill:
Who drawes it Rascall? call me hether Will.
You Rogue, what ha'st to Supper for my dyet?
Tel'st me of Butchers meate? knaue I defie it.
Ile haue a banquet to enuite an Earle,
A Phœnix boyld in broth distil'd in Pearle.
Holde drie this lease, a candle quickly bring,
Ile take one pipe to bed, none other thing.
Thus with Tabacco he will sup to night:
Flesh-meate is heauie, and his purse is light.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Two Gentlemen of hot and fierie sprite]

Two Gentlemen of hot and fierie sprite,
Tooke boate, and went vp Westward to goe fight
Imbarked both, for Wens-worth they set saile,
And there ariuing with a happie gaile,
The Water-men discharged for their fare,
Then to be parted, thus their mindes declare.
Pray Otes (said they) stay heere and come not nie,
We goe to fight a little, but heere by.
The Water-men with staues did follow then,
And cryd, oh holde your hands good Gentlemen,
You know the danger of the law, forbeare:
So they put weapons vp and fell to sweare.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[One of these Cuccold-making Queanes]

One of these Cuccold-making Queanes
did graft her husbands head:
who arm'd with anger, steele and horne
would kill him stain'd his bed.
And challeng'd him vnto the field,
Vowing to haue his life,
Where being met, sirha (quoth he,)
I doe suspect my Wife
Is scarce so honest as she should,
You make of her some vse:
Indeed said he I loue her well,
Ile frame no false excuse.
Of d'ye confesse? by heauens (quoth he)
Had'st thou deni'de thy guilt,
This blade had gone into thy guts,
Euen to the verie Hilt.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Occasion late was ministred for one to trie his friend]

Occasion late was ministred for one to trie his friend,
Ten pounds he did intreat him yet of all loue he would lēd
His case was an accursed case, no comfort to be found,
Vnles he friendly drew his purse & blest him with tē poūd
He did protest he had it not, making a solemne vow,
He wāted means & money both, to do him pleasure now.
Thē sir (quoth he) you know I haue a Gelding I loue wel,
Necessitie it hath no law, I must my Gelding sell,
I haue bin offered twelue for him, with ten ile be cōtent,
Well I will trie a friend (said he,) it was his chest he ment.
So fectch'd the money presently, tother sees Angels shine
Now God amercy horse (quoth he) thy credit's more then mine.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Dice diuing deepe into a Ruffians purse]

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[A kinde of London-walker in a boote]

A kinde of London-walker in a boote,
(Not George a Horse-backe, but a Gerge a foote,)
On eu'ry day you meete him through the yeare,
For's bootes and spurs, a horse-man doth appeare.
Was met with, by an odde conceited stranger,
Who friendly told him that he walk'd in danger.
For Sir (in kindenes no way to offend you)
There is a warrant foorth to apprehend you.
Th' offence they say, you riding through thee streete,
Haue kil'd a Childe, vnder your Horses feete.
Sir I protest (quoth he) they doe me wrong,
I haue not back'd a horse, God knows how long,
What slaues be these, they haue me false bely'd?
Ile prooue this twelue-month I did neuer ride.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[VVhat feather'd fowle is this that doth approach]

VVhat feather'd fowle is this that doth approach
As if it were an Estredge in a Coach?
Three yards of feather round about her hat,
And in her hand a bable like to that:
As full of Birdes attire, as Owle, or Goose,
And like vnto her gowne, her selfe seemes loose.
Cri'ye mercie Ladie, lewdnes are you there?
Light feather'd stuffe befits you best to weare.

A deafe eare, in a iust cause.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

A poore man came vnto a Iudge & shew'd his wronged state,
Entreating him for Iesus sake to be compassionate,
The wrōgs were great he did sustaine, he had no help at al
The Iudge sat stil as if the man had spoken to the wall.
With that came two rude fellows in, to haue a matter tride
About an Asse, that one had let the other for to ride:
Which Asse the owner found in field, as he by chance past by,
And he that hired him a sleepe did in the shadow lye.
For which he would be satisfied, his beast was but to ride:
And for the shadow of his Asse, he would be paid beside.
Great raging words, and damned other,
these two asse-wrangles swore,
Whē presently the Iudge start vp, that seem'd a sleep before
And heard ye follies willingly of these two sotush men,
But bad the poore man come againe, he had no leasure thē.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[A iolly fellow Essex borne and bred]

A iolly fellow Essex borne and bred,
A Farmers Sonne, his Father being dead,
T'expell his griefe and melancholly passions,
Had vowd himselfe to trauell and see fashions.
His great mindes obiect was no trifling toy,
But to put downe the wandring Prince of Troy.
Londons discouerie first he doth decide,
His man must be his Pilot and his guide.
Three miles he had not past, there he must sit:
He ask't if he were not neere London yet?
His man replies good Sir your selfe besturre,
For we haue yet to goe sixe times as farre.
Alas I had rather stay at home and digge,
I had not thought the worlde was halfe so bigge.
Thus this great worthie comes backe (thoewith strife)
He neuer was so farre in all his life.
None of the seauen worthies: on his behalfe,
Say, was not he a worthie Essex Calfe?

The Humors that haunt a Wife.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

A Gentleman a verie friend of mine,
Hath a young wife and she is monstrous fine,
Shee's of the new fantastique humor right,
In her attire an angell of the light.
Is she an Angell? If it may be well,
Not of the light, she is a light Angell.
Forsooth his doore must suffer alteration,
To entertaine her mightie huge Bom-fashion,
A hood's to base, a hat which she doth male,
With brauest feathers in the Estridge tayle.
She scornes to treade our former proud wiues traces.
That put their glory in their on faire faces,
In her conceit it is not faire enough,
She must reforme it with her painters stuffe,
And she is neuer merry at the heart,
Till she be got into her leatherne Cart.
Some halfe amile the Coach-man guides the raynes,
Then home againe, birladie she takes paines.
My friend seeing what humors haunt a wife,
If he were loose would lead a single life.

A poore Mans pollicy.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Next I will tell you of a poore mans tricke,
Which he did practise with a polliticke,
This poore man had a Cow twas all his stocke,
Which on the Commons fed: where Catell flocke,
The other had a steere a wanton Beast,
Which he did turne to feede amongst the rest.
Which in processe although I know not how,
The rich mans Oxe did gore the poore mans Cow.
The poore man heereat vexed waxed sad,
For it is all the liuing that he had,
And he must loose his liuing for a song,
Alas he knew not how to right his wrong.
He knew his enemie had pointes of law,
To saue his purse, fill his deuouring mawe,
Yet thought the poore man how so it betide,
Ile make him giue right sentence on my side.
Without delay vnto the Man he goes,
And vnto him this fayned tale doth gloze,
(Quoth he) my Cow which with your Oxe did feede,
Hath kild your Oxe and I make knowne the deede.
Why (quoth my Politique) thou shouldst haue helpt it rather,
Thou shalt pay for him if thou wert my father.
The course of law in no wise must be stayde,
Least I an cuill president be made.
O Sir (quoth he) I cry you mercy now,
I did mistake, your Oxe hath gorde my Cow:
Conuict by reason he began to brawle,
But was content to let his action fall.
As why? (quoth he) thou lookst vnto her well,
Could I preuent the mischiefe that befell?
I haue more weightie causes now to trie,
Might orecomes right without a reason why.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[One of the damned crew that liues by drinke]

One of the damned crew that liues by drinke,
And by Tobacco's stillified stink,
Met with a Country man that dwelt at Hull:
Thought he this pesant's fit to be my Gull.
His first salute like to the French-mans wipe,
Wordes of encounter, please you take a pipe?
The Countrie man amazed at this rabble,
Knewe not his minde yet would be conformable.
Well, in a petty Ale-house they ensconce
His Gull must learne to drinke Tobacco once.
Indeede his purpose was to make a iest,
How with Tobacco he the peasant drest.
Hee takes a whiffe, with arte into his head,
The other standeth still astonished.
Till all his sences he doth backe reuoake,
Sees it ascend much like Saint Katherins smoake.
But this indeede made him the more admire,
He saw the smoke: thought he his head's a fier,
And to increase his feare he thought poore soule,
His scarlet nose had been a firie cole.
Which circled round with smoak, seemed to him
Like to some rotten brand that burneth dim.
But to shew wisdome in a desperat case,
He threw a Can of beere into his face,
And like a man some furie did inspire,
Ran out out of doores for helpe to quench the fire.
The Ruffin throwes away his Trinidado,
Out comes huge oathes and then his short poynado,
But then the Beere so troubled his eyes,
The countrieman was gone ere he could rise,
A fier to drie him he doth now require,
Rather then water for to quench his fire.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Come my braue gallant come, vncase, vncase]

Come my braue gallant come, vncase, vncase,
Nere shall obliuion your great actes deface.
He has been there where neuer man came yet,
An vnknowne countrie, I, ile warrant it,
Whence he could Ballace a good ship in holde,
With Rubies, Saphiers, Diamonds and golde,
Great Orient Pearles esteem'd no more then moates,
Sould by the pecke as chandlers measure oates,
I meruaile then we haue no trade from thence:
O tis too farre it will not beare expence.
T'were far indeede, a good way from our mayne,
If charges eate vp such excessiue gaine,
Well he can shew you some of Lybian grauell,
O that there were another world to trauell,
I heard him sweare that hee (twas in his mirth)
Had been in all the corners of the earth.
Let all his wonders be together stitcht,
He threw the barre that great Alcides pitcht:
But he that saw the Oceans farthest strands,
You pose him if you aske where Douer stands.
He has been vnder ground and hell did see,
Aeneas nere durst goe so farre as hee.
For he has gone through Plutœs Regiment,
Saw how the Fiendes doe Lyers there torment.
And how they did in helles damnation frye,
But who would thinke the Traueller would lye?
To dine with Pluto he was made to tarrie,
As kindly vs'd as at his Ordinarie.
Hogsheades of wine drawne out into a Tub,
Where he did drinke hand-smooth with Belzebub,
And Proserpine gaue him a goulden bow,
Tis in his chest he cannot shew it now.

Of one that cousned the Cut-purse.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

One toulde a Drouer that beleeu'd it not,
What booties at the playes the Cut-purse got,
But if twere so my Drouers wit was quicke,
He vow'd to serue the Cut-purse a new tricke.
Next day vnto the play, pollicy hy'd,
A bag of fortie shillings by his side,
Which houlding fast he taketh vp his stand,
If stringes be cut his purse is in his hand.
A fine conceited Cut-purse spying this,
Lookt for no more, the for shillings his,
Whilst my fine Politique gazed about,
The Cut-purse feately tooke the bottom out.
And cuts the strings, good foole goe make a iest,
This Dismall day thy purse was fairely blest.
Houlde fast good Noddy tis good to dreade the worse,
Your monie's gone, I pray you keepe your purse.
The play is done and foorth the foole doth goe,
Being glad that he cousned the Cut-purse soe.
He thought to iybe how he the Cut-purse drest,
And memorize it for a famous iest.
But putting in his hand it ran quite throw
Dash't the conceite, heele neuer speake on't now,
You that to playes haue such delight to goe,
The Cut-purse cares not, still deceiue him so.

A drunken fray.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Dicke met with Tom in faith it was their lot,
Two honest Drunkars must goe drinke a pot,
Twas but a pot, or say a little more,
Or say a pot that's filled eight times ore.
But being drunke, and met well with the leese,
They drinke to healthes deuoutly on their knees,
Dicke drink, to Hall, to pledge him Tom reiects,
And scornes to doe it for some odde respects
Wilt thou not pledge him thar't a gill, a Scab,
Wert with my man-hood thou deseruest a stab,
But tis no matter drinke another bout,
Weele intot'n field and there weele trie it out.
Lets goe (saies Tom) no longer by this hand,
Nay stay (quoth Dicke (lets see if we can stand.
Then forth they goe after the drunken pace,
Which God he knowes was with a reeling grace,
Tom made his bargaine, thus with bonnie Dicke
If it should chance my foote or so should slip,
How wouldst thou vse me or after what Size,
Wouldst bare me shorter or wouldst let me rise.
Nay God forbid our quarrells not so great,
To kill thee on aduantage in my heat.
Tush we'le not fight for any hate or foe,
But for meere loue that each to other owe.
And for thy learning loe Ile shew a tricke,
No sooner spoke the worde but downe comes Dicke,
Well now (quoth Tom) thy life hangs on my sworde,
If I were downe how wouldst thou keepe thy worde?
Why with these hilts I'de braine thee at a blow,
Faith in my humor cut thy throate, or soe,
But Tom he scorne to kill his conquered foe,
Lets Dicke arise, and too't againe they goe.
Dicke throwes downe Tom or rather Tom did fall,
My hilts (quoth Dicke) shall braine thee like a maull,
Is't so (quoth Tom) good faith what remedie,
The Tower of Babell's fallen and so am I.
But Dicke proceedes to giue the fatall wound,
It mist his throate, but run into the ground.
But he supposing that the man was slaine,
Straight fled his contrie, ship himselfe for Spaine,
Whilst valiant Thomas dyed dronken deepe,
Forgot his danger and fell fast a sleepe.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[VVhat's he that stares as if he were afright?]

VVhat's he that stares as if he were afright?
The fellowe sure hath seene some dreadfull spright
Masse rightly guest, why sure I did diuine,
Hee's haunted with a Spirit feminine.
In plaine termes thus, the Spirit that I meane,
His martiall wife that notable curst queane,
No other weapons but her nailes or fist,
Poore patient Idiot he dares not resit,
His neighbor once would borrow but his knife,
Good neighbor stay (quoth he) Ile aske my wife.
Once came he home inspired in the head,
He found his neighbor and his wife a bed,
Yet durst not sturre, but hide him in a hole,
He feared to displease his wife poore soule.
But why should he so dreade and feare her hate,
Since she had giuen him armor for his pate?
Next day forsooth he doth his neighbor meete,
Whome with sterne rage thus furiously doth greete,
Villaine ile slit thy nose, out comes his knife,
Sirra (quoth he) goe to Ile tell your wife.
Apaled at which terror, meekely saide
Retire good knife my furie is allaide.

Proteus.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Time seruing humour thou wrie-faced Ape,
That canst transforme thy selfe to any shape:
Come good Proteus come away a pace,
We long to see thy mumping Antique face.
This is the fellow that liues by his wit,
A cogging knaue and fawning Parrasit,
He has behauiour for the greatest porte,
And hee has humors for the rascall sorte,
He has beene great with Lordes and high estates,
They could not liue without his rare conceites,
He was associat for the brauest spirits,
His galland carriage such fauour merrits.
Yet to a Ruifian humor for the stewes,
A tight graund Captaine of the damned crewes,
With whome his humor alwayes is vnstable
Mad, melancholly, drunke and variable.
Hat without band like cutting Dicke he goe's,
Renowned for his new inuented oathes.
Some times like a Ciuilian, tis strange
At twelue a clocke he must vnto the Change,
Where being thought a Marchant to the eye,
He tels strange newes his humor is to lie.
Some Damaske coate the eflect thereof must heare,
Inuites him home and there he gets good cheare.
But how is't now such braue renowned wits,
Weare ragged robes with such huge gasily slits,
Faith thus a ragged humor he hath got
Whole garments for the Summer are too hot.
Thus you may censure gently if you please,
He weares such garments onely for his ease.
Or thus his credit will no longer waue.
For all men know him for a prating knaue.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[A Scholer newly entred marriage life]

A Scholer newly entred marriage life,
Following his studdie did offend his wife,
Because when she his company expected,
By bookish busines she was still neglected:
Comming vnto his studdy, Lord (quoth she)
Can papers cause you loue them more then mee:

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[I would I were transform'd into a Booke]

I would I were transform'd into a Booke
That your affection might vpon me looke,
But in my wish, withall be it decreed,
I would be such a Booke you loue to reede,
Husband (quoth she) which books form: should I take,
Marry (said hee) 'were best an Almanacke,
The reason wherefore I doe wish thee so,
Is, euery yeare wee haue a new you knowe.

Epigram.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Sira, come hether boy, take view of mee]

Sira, come hether boy, take view of mee,
My Lady I am purpos'd to goe see:
What doth my feather flourish with a grace,
And this same doo bleset ebecome my face,
How descent doth this doublet to me appeare
(I would I had my sute in hound-stitch heere)
Do not my spurs pronounce a finer sounde?
Do's not my hose circumference profounde?
Sirth seate well, but there is one thing ill,
Your Tailour with a sheete of paper bill,
Vowes heel'e be paid and Servants he had feed,
Which wayte your comming forth to do thy deede:
Boy god-amercy let my Lady stay,
Ile see no counter for her face to day.

Much a doe about chusing a wife.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

The taming of a wilde Youth.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Of late a deare and louing friend of mine,
That all his time a Gallant youth had bene,
From mirth to melancholy did decline,
Looking exeeding pale, leane, poore, and thin,
I ask'd the cause he brought me through the streete,
Vnto his house, and there hee let me see,
A woman proper, faire, wise and discreete
And said behould, heer's that hath tamed mee,
Hath this (quoth I,) can such a wife do so?
Lord how is he tam'd then, that hath a shrow:

A straunge sighted Traueller.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

An honest Country foole being gentle bred,
Was by an odde conceited humor led,
To trauell and some English fashions see,
With such strange sights as heere at London be.
Stuffing his purse with a good golden some,
This wandring knight did to the Cittie come,
And there a seruingman he entertaines,
An honester in Newgate not remaines.
He shew'd his Maister sights to him most strange,
Great tall Pauls Steeple and the royall-Exchange:
The Bosse at Billings-gate and London stone,
And at White-Hall the monstrous great Whales bone,
Brought him to the banck-side where Beares do dwell
And vnto Shor-ditch where the whores keepe hell,
Shew'd him the Lyons, Gyants in Guild-Hall,
King Lud at Lud-gate the Babounes and all,
At length his man, on all he had did pray,
Shew'd him a theeuish trick and ran away,
The Traueller turnd home exceeding ciuill,
And swore in London he had seene the Deuill.

Three kinde of Couckoldes

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.