University of Virginia Library

[The sweet-tongd Ovid's Counterfeit behold]

The sweet-tongd Ovid's Counterfeit behold;
Which Noblest Romans wore in rings of gold
Or would you yt, which his owne pensil drew
The Poet, in his deathless Poems, view.

On the Author Mr. N. S.

Had Ovid writ his loves in such a strain,
His banishment had been recall'd again.
Bawdy in these Rhimes lawful is; but he
With his obsceness spoil'd good Poetry.
Therefore away to Pontus he must trudge
Cæsar th Prince of Poets being judge:
Here our Translator does even that omit
And in the place of bawdy puts chast wit
Cato may enter, smile too, yet ne're see
Dame Flora naked in her bawdery.

To his friend the Author.

Methinke Leander might as well rehearse
Such Rimes as these as Ovid's sweeter Verse.
Why must a Carthaginian Dame pray tell
Or Asian Barbar versify so well?
Or what decorum's that to make one speak
Good Latine to th'good man a merry Greek?
Tis like our Poets now who make all say
(What Countrey men so e're) English i'th' Play.
And every Porter Letter-Carier thank
The donor for but two-pence in a blank.
Your verse more natural is, I judge from hence,
They find out sence to th'Rhimes, you Rhimes to th'sence.

To his worthy friend the Author

'Faith it is very silly don to cry
Beauty shews best joyn'd with deformity
That Venus cannot please without her wart,
Nor sweetest sauces unless mixt with tart.
That foyls are always friends to fair ones, I
Whilest I am hammering out some Poetry;
Something in praise of the Authors Book to say,
Doth seem like a bad Prologue to a Play.
But now I think on't better, I am out,
Where the Play's good the Prologue is no doubt.

To his worthy friend on his Book.

Were great Augustus now alive he'd say
Ovid drest thus deserv'd his Livia.
With all but enemies thy Book will pass
You need for none unless't be Hudibras
May be some English De la Cerda will
Stand up and cry that Virgil's beter stil.
But let him have a care we know 'tis spight
Least this with like success as t'other wrie.

To the Author.

Now for a Complement was never known
That who so hears't, shall swear it is my own
Your Book is excellent-Pox! that won't do
That's usurp'd often, though deserv'd by few,
Faith you did very ill to send to me,
To have my judgement on your Travesty
But stay-I have one now, I say it is,
A very silly and ridiculus piece,
You'l think 'tis strangely spoken of a friend
And were I so I could not but commend,
Like zealous mad men you mistake the Letter,
For in this case the worse it is the better

OVID TRAVESTIE Epist. I. Dido to Æneas

So a poor Pig just as he dyes,
Squeeks unlamented Obsequies.
But now you talk of that, d'ye mark it?
I have brought mine to a fair Market.
Not that I think you'l mind my chat,
I strive against the Stream in that
But that it never shall be said,
Since I have lost my Maiden-head;
My Husband, honour, and good name;
And falen out with Goody Fame:
Who at next Gossiping will tell,
What unto Dido hath befell;
But I will speak: for never trust,
Me, that deny'd my heart would burst
Yet you'r resolv'd, you'l to the Floods
And leave poor Dido in the Suds:
And though I bid you to be kind,
I do but spit against the Wind;
You are resolv'd for all my reek,
You'l to the Devils-Arse-a-Peek.
Methinks you should not leave the coast
Where you shall only rule the Roast:
Well where so e're Æneas tost is,
He'l hardly find so kind an Hostess;
Will any Cat-a-mountain Jade,
When Guinneys come refuse the trade.
In It'ly you must lye in mangers,
May be clean straw, because you'r strangers
Not flaxen sheets as here you Lout,
And then as you Pig in, Pig out.
You say you seek a Farm, but tush,
A Bird i'th hand's worth two i'th Bush.
You want another to deceive her,
To spoil her voice & then to leave her.
And without paying for your meals,
At last to shew a pair of heels.
Alass my Chuck! I say in fine,
When wilt thou build a Barn like mine.
But if thou dost, yet for thy life,
Thou'st ne're have such a handsome wife.
I burn like Pitch-barrel, nay more,
Like trying sewet when't runs o're.
Sleeping you'r always in my sight,
And then I dream of the blest night;
Wherein you did, like ne're was seen:
You know well enough what I do mean;
When next morn, if you do remember,
I think 'twas the third day of December:
I did some butter'd Ale provide,
Of Caudle eke three quarts beside;
Which we did toss oft foot to foot:
And eat for th'back some Ringo root;
Yet you a Clown do stop your ear,
Ah! who so deaf as those won't hear.
Pray Goody Venus why do you let,
Your Son now be in such a pet.
He only came to take a way-bit,
He is not like his Mother a whit:
For she I'me shure is very common,
Denyes a courtesie to no Man:
Nay, and without paying a jot,
A Man may do the Ld. knows what.
But-you I swear I think was got,
Out of some earthen Chamber-pot:
Or from some huge Oak you parted,
You are to me so hard hearted;
So that be it with wonder spoke,
I think you have a heart of Oak;
See how the Sea on which you swim,
Hath far more good nature in him.
See how lusty Æol puffs,
As if he were at fifty cuffs.
And tosses waves now Heaven be thanked,
As one would toss a Dog in Blanket,
Look on your Skiff how the waves knock it,
As they were sousing a Pick-pocket.
The foaming flouds do keep a pother,
And like Cats spit at one another.
The waters breath such a fog out,
This weather I'd not turn a Dog out;
Your Men do stand blowing their nails
They can't abide to patch up sails.
And only because you are self-ish,
Get their bread by catching shell-fish.
And trust me friend there but few is,
That are in love with salt brewis,
They like such Meat as I am stewing,
And good strong Bub of my own brewing
I can't but think how they will take on,
To think of leaving my fat Bacon.
They will go nigh you to trepan,
To get another sop i'th Pan,
This weather sure you will not forth,
To put to Sea East, West, North, South.
Methinks you should not so abhor me,
That will venture dying for me.
'Tis wondrous courage is't not elf,
To fly from me to drown your self.
Had you but staid a while you'd see,
The waves would run most glib & glee;
Whilst staring Phœbus doth them pry on
They'd smooth that you might throw a Dye on.
Yet now at last pray be so kind,
To turn again as doth the wind.
You cannot sure neglect my moan,
Unless you have a heart of stone.
Why will you trust the Seas mad ire?
A burn't Child always dreads the fire.
You've oft been soust like Pickl'd herron
And yet you are so mad to steer on
Nay prethy tell me (Love!) how many
Times you'd have given your life for Penny.
How comes it you dare be so base,
Especially in such a place;
As this, to wrong my love, the rather;
Because the Sea is Love's Grand-father.
But why give I advice to one,
That joyes to see his Wench undone.
No hang ye, may you live and be,
A Trophee of my Butchery:
And now supose that you were caught,
As who knows whether you may or not,
By th'hand of Justice who ne're falters
To cure all Vices with strong Halters.
Then when the Ladder you ascend,
And bid adieu to all your friends;
And look as if you were a dying,
And hardly can forbear crying:
Then the wrong'd Dido shall appear
To fright my noble Cavilier.
I'le stroak you with hand cold as stone
And shew raw head and bloody bone.
When you are at Prayers I'le come,
And hinder you of Elizium.
But that I need not do alass,
The Gods hear not a perjur'd Ass.
And you are such that never Millain,
Ever produced a worse Villain.
Then you'l weep and sighing cry ho,
VVould I had never wronged Dido.
My heart misgave me when that I,
Thought to forsake the poor Pigsnye.
Were she alive now how I'de clip,
And hang upon her bottle Lip.
O I would be so kind I wiss,
As any Man in Bark-shire is,
I all obedience would pay her,
And carry her from VVake to Fair.
And there, or at the next good Town
I'de buy my Love a fine Stuff Gown;
But if you are resolv'd to school us,
Pray be so kind to spare Julus:
And let not the poor thing be shent,
I do protest he's innocent.
The Gods I hope, forsooth you'l spare,
You dare not touch, such holy ware.
Here's a Surpliss left i'th lurch,
Was snatcht out of a burning Church:
An Hour-glass too, which you then took
From out the Pulpit at Wall-brook
But what needs all this simple bable,
'Tis all but an old VVomans fable;
Therefore you are a lying Jack,
As if you carried Pick a Pack:
Anchises out of flameing London,
And the Gods too, who else were undon.
A worthy prize they were 'tis true,
And that's the only cause that you:
This seven years day i'me sure & more,
Tost by the Sea ne're came a shore;
VVhen I at last did take you in,
VVet with rain almost to'th skin:
Dryed your cloaths, and rub'd your hair,
VVet with dew and foggy air;
But yet alass were that but all,
I should have then small cause to brawl.
No I remember the sad even,
VVhen we were to a Cake-house driven:
By storms and such like boysterous weather,
As heaven and earth would go together
My host when to a room he led you,
I little thought I there should bed you.
When strait you cal'd the Maid damn'd whore
Bid her be gon then shut the door
And then you told me none could see us,
Ah! I forgot my poor Sichæus.
Then without complement you fell,
Pell mell to what I blush to tell.
Ah! how many sad signs we met,
Before we to the house could get.
All the way a Hare did follow,
The Owls did nought but whoop and hollow.
My Petticoat at Supper was burn'd,
Besides the Salt was overturn'd.
The Cats all night did cry and growl,
And dogs did often whoop and howl;
When I heard these as Jove shall save me
Even then my fearful heart misgave me.
Nay as I through the Church-yard went
I heard a Man as 'twere lament:
And with a mournful voice to say,
Come my Elisa, come away.
I, I, I come my Dear, I come;
Make room for me in thy cold Tomb:
I promis'd thee I'de never marry,
But 'las! my Chuck, I could nor tarry:
This too for my excuse I have,
That it was no poor paultry knave,
That had thy leavings, no 'twas one:
That was a gallant Burgers Son;
His Mother was a Farmers Girl,
That went most gay in Gold and Pearl:
Nay: and 'tis said he and his Sire,
Did both help much at Londons Fire—
Beside my heart! were you but Sage,
You would not have much cause to rage:
'Tis cold you know, & you being gone,
D'you think that I could lye alone
Or without you my house could rule,
Or get my bread by teaching School.
O! how it much my grief inhaunces,
To think of all my sad mischances.
By my sweet-heart now left i'th lurch,
My husband basely kil'd i'th Church:
In Sermon time was butchered,
Nay, by his Brother as 'tis said.
Now here alass! is all my woe,
But I must flye my Country too:
In unknown place where I have got,
Some ground my Neighbours envy at;
And quarrel with me too, pox on 'um,
And say I do encrouch upon 'um.
I scold in vain, for what can I do,
That am but a poor silly Widow.
Suitors I have here good store,
Or else I am an arrant whore;
I fear to chuse though there but few are
That are so false, I'me sure as you are,
Give up, give up, you flattering Knave,
Those sacred things you said you have:
For if that I ought understand,
They are not so whilst in your hand.
How will you answer't to the Elder,
If you have left me hans in Kelder,
The Child may rue that is unborn,
'Cause you have left me here forlorn;
But you must go Jove knows whether,
Pray who the Devil brought you hither
Would you had kept o'th Sea, you lout
And hunted still for perch and trout:
Would we had never been acquainted,
My honour then had not been tainted:
But now to leave poor wretched Jenny,
And so to post away for Guinney:
VVhere you'l be beaten to a Gelly,
And pinched sore, both Back & Belly.
And may be too, you'r cast away,
Before you'r gotten the half-way.
Your time you here had better spend,
And live with me at little Grayesend.
Here in quiet you may play,
With my Golden Locks all day.
Never fancying to be poor,
My neck Argent, and that Or.
If you say you don't love ease,
And nothing worse then a long peace.
I'le find you fighting here enough,
And teach Julus how to cuff:
VVith rogues that steal my pears and apples,
VVith whom in time he'l learn to grapple.
But if you won't, however I,
Do wish you all prosperity.
May your old Dad, that Gafter Gray-beard,
Of whom I never yet was afeard.
I wish that he may live to see,
Some Grand-children, though not by me;
And when he dyes I hope he'l have,
In some Church-yard a homely Grave:
And not tar'd o're by'th Sea foaming;
Instead of any more embalming.
I wish thee well upon my Soul,
Which makes me for thy safety howl.
But if you are asham'd to have,
Me cal'd thy wife i'le be thy slave:
I'le be your Cook-Maid neat to dress ye,
All sort of Meat bee't fishy or fleshy.
I'le make you Caudles, when Sea sick,
You'r almost going to Old Nick.
Onely stay here until the Spring,
Till all the pritty Birds do sing;
But if you are resolv'd to go,
Regardless of my want and woe.
I must resolve to bear the rest on't,
Which won't be long, & that's the best on't.
For could you see me whilst I write,
And my last Letter here indite.
My right-hand holds a Pen, my left,
A Sword which many a Pate hath cleft:
And in my Lap some Halters lye,
(For yet I can't tell which to try.)
Which are so weted with my Tears,
The fatal knot won't flip I fear.
But prethee Neece don't take on,
When you shall hear i'me dead and gone:
Onely get written on my Hearse,
In letters great this following verse.
Dido lyes here, that silly VVhore,
That hang'd her self, to vex Æneas more.

OVID TRAVESTIE Epist. II. Leander to Hero.

His best respects and love, d'ye hear ho,
Leander sends to Peerless Hero.
I'de come my self willing enough,
Were not the Thames so plaugy rough?
I'd strait launch o're to the Bank-side,
And never stay for the next Tide:
And faith and troth, my mind does gee me
You'r woundy mad you cannot see me.
If Gammer Fortune, and young Cupid,
Han't both agreed to make you stupid.
But my luck's out, for why else 'trow,
Can't I swim as I use to do?
You see your self through strange mishap,
The Skyes looks just like a black Cap;
'Tis not so much as tipt with white,
But full as dark as if 'twere night;
Besides the winds so dash the water,
About that it begins to Lather.
So if this trade hold e're long I hope,
There'l be no need of Castle-soap.
Nay more then that I dare alledge,
'Tis safer shooting London-bridge;
Than crossing o're the water to you,
Therefore I send you this how do you,
By this most dastaring of all wights,
VVho was in all the last Dutch Fights:
And there he learn't to be no coward,
For sometimes he'd at a rope tow hard.
VVhen the waves thought it no disgrace,
To spit in my bold Seamans face.
This rogue thrusts out when ne're a Boat,
Besides himself would stir a Foot.
And I myself resolv'd to go,
In spight o'th wind and help him row.
But when we'd cry'd thrice, who's for over
Unhook't the head, and put a cover
Of Tilt upon't, I saw a power
Of folks on Baynards-Castle Tower.
Among the rest my Master sat,
Gazing upon—the Lord knows what
And then I knew, I could not go yet,
Unless i'de have the world should know it:
For had I ventur'd on this jaunt,
My Master needs must know my haunt.
He might guess without casting spells,
'Twas to a wench or something else:
For what could make me trapes o're thither,
Specially in such stormy weather?
He knew that such tricks, a young Prentice
Ne're leaves till all his money spent is.
Therefore I thought it my best way,
To come a shore again and stay:
And 'cause I could not see my wench,
I sate me down upon the bench;
By'th water-side, and on my knee,
I wrote this Letter presently.
Yet nevertheless while I did do it,
I could not lin from talking to it.
Go most happy Letter said I,
And kiss the hand of my fair Lady:
A hand will make you pale to see,
That it is whiter far then thee.
And when that's done you may perhaps,
B' advanc'd up to her greasie chaps:
For Hero, soon as e're she seeth,
My Letter with her butterteeth
Will gnaw the wax of, that she may,
Know what her sweet-heart has to say.
With teeth I mean as white as butter,
Just after this sort did I mutter.
And then I took my hand that's best,
To write i'th Paper all the rest.
Although my hand (what e'res the matter,)
Had rather dabled in the water.
Oh! how it loves to dash and strike oft,
The waves! you never saw the like of't.
And yet this hand will write as well,
As any hand in twenty mile.
'Twas this day sennit, though I swear,
It seems to me 'bove half a year.
When the Thames water that's our parter,
First began to make a quarter.
It roars like Drum, when Army marches,
And louder than it does at th'Arches.
Yet now (I hope) this noise no moræing,
Will in our ears, 'tis hoarse with roaring.
If I have slept a wink this sennight,
May't always be as dark as when night.
May the winds let me ne're be seen,
A 'tother side the Thames again.
But make it still so rough and bad,
And flounce, and bounce, as if 'twere mad.
All night and day I sit o'th stairs,
And make me spectacles of tears.
I glaze my eyes, that so I may,
Like Cats see's well by night as day.
Then cast my eyes a 'tother side,
Where soon as e're I have espy'd:
Your house, I wish my self a witch;
For then i'de quickly leap the Ditch.
I'de mount a Cole-staff, and so trot o're,
The water better then an Otter.
I fancy too I see the wind blow
Your watch-light in the Garret window:
And then sometimes I am in doubt,
Whether the wind hath blow'd it out.
Thrice I doft all my cloaths, and then,
Three times I don'd 'um all agen:
For th'wind and tyde were both so strong,
I was not able to stand long
Without a fall, the eddes suck't
Me in so I was always duck't.
But you rogue Boreas with a P---t'ee,
pray what's the reason you so boxt me?
The cursed Villain made more billows,
Then all the rest off's huffing fellows.
Think you, you stinking Ragamuffin,
The River cares a f--- for your puffing?
No, no, you fool! with all your pother,
You plague me more then any other.
Had not young Cupid tam'd your fury,
Pray who the Devil could endure you.
Although your worship is so sower,
I know the time you kept a whore.
And us'd to go like any spark,
A wooing into Whet-stones Park.
I wonder what a Plague you'd say,
Should any one stop up your way:
You could not chuse but take it ill,
Should you be serv'd as you serve Will?
Good honest friend be'nt so outragious,
As e're you hope to have your wages;
From Goodman Æol, who you know,
Care's not whom he gis a blow.
So may he ne're in Bladders sell ye,
Nor keep you Prisoner in his Belly.
Nor send you out a puffing sails,
When it is better blowing nails.
But may he make that for your pitty
To me, a freeman of the City.
I'de better keep my breath for Porrage,
He will not hearken to me for rage;
But huffs and puffs, and keeps a clutter,
Answering ne're a word I mutter.
And let poor I do what I will,
He won't make one wave to lye still.
Ah! would there were a strong rope ty'd,
Quite cross the Thames, how I would slide
O're to thee! I durst lay a spanck—
Far, better then a Mountebanck.
Faith it would be a pritty trick,
But that there's danger of ones neck.
Pish? hang my neck I car'nt a f---
For ought but thee mine own sweet-heart
Would I were once but on the rope
Well daub'd all o're with grease or soap.
I'de swim down on't with as much ease,
As if I were upon the Seas.
But when I see no hope of going,
I think upon our former wooing.
The first time was much about night,
And yet I think 'twas something light.
I shut uP shop as I was wont,
(It does me good to think upon't)
And stole out of my Masters door,
Who little thought I kept a whore.
Then ran down to the water-side,
Where soon as e're I had espy'd:
The coast clear, without more ado,
Doffing my cloaths and my fear too;
I launch'd with all my might and main,
And presently was out of pain.
A wench I knew her by her wink boy,
Lighted me better then a Link-boy:
She went before me all the way,
I thank her 'twas as light as day.
When I first spy'd her I cal'd to her,
Fair Maid have pitty on a wooer:
Who's almost droun'd in this dark night,
And think upon the sweet delight;
You use to have with your dear Will,
At London-stone, on Cannon-hill.
Lovers are always most kind hearted,
Pray let not us two now be parted:
For want of light, but face about,
And for once help a poor thief out.
Although you are a Chamber-maid,
Yet once you lov'd a Man of trade.
And I poor Tradesman. to tell true,
Love such a Chamber-maid as you.
What should I tell how well she's bred,
I dare lay sixpence on her head:
There's ne're a Damsel small or great,
Shall make a curtsey half so neat.
And though I say't she is so fair,
No Goddess can with her compare;
Besides your self and Rosamond
There ne're was such a beauty found.
Well if you won't believe My word,
You may go see who cares a T---
Just as a light one scarce can handle,
Outshines a little Farthing-candle.
Ee'n so my sweet-heart will run down,
In beauty all the Maids i'th Town:
And if you say she comes behind
The handsom'st Lass, i'le swear you'r blind.
Just so or much after this rate,
VVhilst I swam o're I us'd to prate.
The wench I spoke of with the Lanthorn,
(And yet it look'd as if it wa'nt horn:
Jogg'd on before, and I came 'ater,
Her candle shone so in the water;
That, as I told you, I dare say,
The dark night was as light as day.
You could not hear one noise or hum,
But what the Thames made as I swum:
Onely some Bears that love the sport,
Of baiting, seem'd to grumble for't.
As soon as e're my arms were tir'd,
I long'd to see what I desir'd.
Turn'd on my back and quickly 'ater,
Let down my feet, and so trod water.
VViping my eyes, I chanc'd to spy
Your Candle burning, ah! quoth I:
VVould I was but a little nigher
'Twould warm my hands instead of fire.
On that Bank-side and no where else,
My pretty little Pigsnye dwells.
VVhen strait 'fore one could say what's this,
The Thames seem'd softer than it is;
And I my self began to feel,
My weary arms as strong as steel.
I am so hot what e're's the matter,
The cold ne're makes my teeth once chatter.
The Thames is always when I come here,
As hot as in the midst of Summer.
The nearer still I come to shore,
The abler am I to swim more.
As soon as e're I can be spy'd,
By thy sweet eyn a 'to'ther side:
Thy beautious face makes me more lusty,
Then doughty Knight in army rusty;
When for to please his Mistriss cruel,
He fights before her in a Duel.
Then do I strive in the best fashion,
To shew my skill in Navigation.
I strike out hands and feet most strongly,
Then shew you how I can too long lye
Upon the water and ne're stir,
My hand or foot which is admir—
Able you never saw a Span—
Niel swim half so well as I can.
I'me sure it does so well become me,
Your Nurse can hardly keep you from me.
You'd too forsooth fain turn a Diver,
And daggle Petticoat in River.
Faith any one may see how kind,
You are, unless he's dev'lish blind.
For ler old Nurse do what she could,
You came so nigh, you were wet-shod;
Then you catch hold about my neck,
And with warm lips buss my cold cheek.
Such loving busses that I swear,
No man would wish for better chear:
Though he were almost starv'd with cold,
They are busses for a man of Gold.
Then thou pul'st off thine own Petticoat,
That I may don't instead of my Coat.
If you have but a Smock t'your back,
I'me sure Leander shall not lack.
Then rub'st wet hair till 't look so fine,
No one can tell I have been in.
Then for the rest I need not show it,
Thou and I wench already know it
'Tis full as easie to count o're,
Every Pebble on the shore:
As tell the unspeakable delight
We two together had that night.
For when we saw our time was short,
We ply'd our business harder for't.
Just when the day began to blink
(For we could see it through a chink
O'th' Garret window) strait we had
A bussing bout, you'd think us mad
We did so slabber both our chops
And smack our lips as fast as hops.
Then curs'd we oft the peeping light
And wish'd the Devil had the night,
For being so short, one couldn't know
Where there was any night or no.
But while I linger Nurse with sad
Tone, tells me how 'tis time to Pad.
Then wiping eyes and nose with sleeve,
I scrape a leg, and take my leave.
But yet not so, Hero I say
Will go and bear me part o'th' way.
Then out we go howling and bawling,
Like Cats when met a catterwauling.
At last into the Thames I flounce,
(I hardly say 'twas for the nonce)
For it went sore against my Guts
That I must leave thee for the Suds.
Therefore like poor forsaken wight
I view thee till thou'rt out of sight.
If there be any truth in me Man,
Hither I come as brisk as Seaman
Does from the wars, to her he loves,
In silver Buttons, and knit Gloves.
When I go back, i'le tell thee what
I look no better than drown'd rat.
Nay more when e're I come to see thee,
Methinks the wind and tyde go wi'me.
When I go back, believ't who will
I fancy that I swim up hill.
I vow and swear I love to rome
And never care for going home.
I had as leeve e'en go to hanging
As once be from you, homewards ganging.
And I had rather far be there
Where you are (Honey!) then stay here.
Alack and well a day is't not a wonder
That we who're joyn'd in heart should live asunder.
Wo's me because the raining weather
Won't suffer us to come together.
And we that only have one heart,
Should in two places live a part.
Why can't you get a service here,
Or I an honest Master there.
You love our Town, if not bely'd,
As well as I do the Bank-side.
Why must I always be so troubled
When e're with wind Thames water's bubled
And little simple whistling puff,
Shall make Leander rage and huff.
You little think how well I'me known
Through all the watry Region.
The fish my amours all discover
And every Grig knows I me a Lover.
I've made a perfect Path quite cross,
And know't as well as track of horse.
I once was vext and curst like Jew
'Cause I was fain to launch it through.
But now the winds so flirt and skim,
About, I can't so much as swim.
The Thames too looks as white as Snow
VVith froth, 'tis toss'd so to and fro.
And Hoyes are scarce free from the shock,
In Billingsgate, or Queen-hith dock.
This River wild may well hath' name
Of Thames 'twil ne're be tame.
I would not care for horse or boat,
To cross, could I my self but float.
Would these curst waves would but lye still come whip sir
I'de be the Seaman Passenger and Ship sir.
I would not Sail by Seamans chart
Nor for your blind Stars would care a f---
I would not follow Dog or Cub,
The little bear or Dub a Dub.
Let who will look o'th' Mermaid sign,
Or Crown: they are no marke of mine.
Nor would I give one single Farden
To sail by th'light at the Bear-garden.
Or any other light beside
My Candle is a surer guide
VVhich blears out yonder all in vain
Because I cannot cross the Main.
But when I do that's still my mark,
And lights me, though 'tis ne're so dark.
VVhen I spy that I never quake-a,
But could swim by it e'ven to Jamaica.
Nay more then that to the world's end
If thou liv'dst there my pretty friend.
I would go round the Earth by water.
Better then Drake though I come after.
I could i'me sure, deny't who can,
Duck and dive better than Mer-man.
Sometimes when I am plaugy tir'd
I tell my arms how well they're hir'd.
And how they shall if they hold out
Their Mistriss Hero cling about.
Strait 'fore a Man can well tell five,
My weary arms again revive,
And towards their haven strike apace
As nimbly as horse runs in race.
See how I follow the old trade
And sue you that was never made
For me, you are too good a Woman
For any one under a Yeoman.
Yet either yeild to my desire,
Or tell me how I may be 'Squire.
I scarce can see you for my Master
Who when I go out cryes make hast sir.
That I durst take my oath, my mind is
More troubled then the Thames we wind is.
For what the better is't I wis
That our River so narrow is.
I'd's leeve you were at Pope's of Rome,
As be so nigh me here at home.
If I but fetch a Pail of water
My mind's troubled an hour after.
If I but go to buy red Herring,
I ask um if they saw my Dearing.
Then up and down I madly rove
As if that I were sure in love.
Your house so nigh is I have pist over,
And you again have often hist over.
And yet it seems as far from me
As Greenwich is, or Barbary.
I look upon the waters sourish
And cry methinks that sight is moorish.
I look towards th'house early or later,
And then at you my chaps do water.
So a poor little boy doth try,
In vain to catch the bob-cherry.
Must I ne're see my pritty whore's
Unless I take a pair of Oars.
Is our love, pray, so slightly ty'd
To be divided by each tyde.
Or suppose there be ne're a Scullar,
Or that all the Boats here quite full are.
And though nothing's so weak as water,
As hath been noted by our Slater.
In that is all my weal or woe
Whether I must now come or no.
'Tis Summer too that you must know,
What shall I do in Frost and Snow?
When thames is frozen o're 'od's bobnails,
And Boys do slide upon't with Hob nails.
When time shall come as 'twas of Yore,
All the water being froze o're.
Instead of having durt and mire on't,
It shall be clean and Men make fire on't.
But don't believe I do't to fright ye,
Or that I any way do slight ye.
Because I tell you what there may be,
As if I ask'd of you a cave.
No I protest that were a low thing,
Alas! I still cry Neck or nothing.
What Man is there will be a flincher,
VVhen he is once listed a wencher.
No i'le dost my leather Breeches,
And ne're fear the Cramp or Stitches.
If that I chance for to be drown'd,
Or e're to be catch'd in Lobs Pound.
VVell fare then cry your little Pander
My pretty Smock-fac'd Rogue Leander.
There's never a such a Man at VVappin,
His Mothers Shift him sure did wrap in.
He was the prettiest sneering Rogue,
He would so flatter and collogue.
But be you sure if I should dye
That thea you put finger in eye.
Be sullen and still sit i'th' dark:
Eat nothing but Pestle of Lark.
And hire some old musty Poet,
That th'whole versal world may know it,
Of our never failing loves,
VVith a Picture of two Doves.
But now no more of this, my Dear!
Thou'st dream of it to night I fear.
I know 'twould make thee mad as bitch,
If I should tell as true as witch.
Thou couldst find in thy heart to rent
This part o'th' Letter I have sent.
But prethee wench, leave off thy rooling:
I hope there'l be no need of whuling.
Fall down upon your marrow bones,
Pray buy a Cushion for the nonce.
And beg with all your might and main,
The winds would all lye still again.
I would desire but one half hour
Of good fair weather for this shower
Although 'twont melt one, yet I say
'T may chance to wash me all away.
VVere I but got on to'ther shore,
'T should rain as fast as't did before,
For me. Faith i'de not give him th s---
To have Rogue Boreas hold his peace.
For thete's for Boats an ample Dock
VVhere they'l lye safe as under Lock.
Secure from furious wind and tempest,
Good Stairs beside, and most like them best.
Then let wind huff and puff his heart
Out, for no body cares a F---
I'de see him hang'd then 'fore i'de venture
My life in's hand, without Indenture.
Nor would I at the rough winds scold, or
Ban; for they grew I think the bolder.
Nor cry out piteously, O grievous!
Because I saw the Thames so peevish.
Nay I should think my self much better'd
If hands and feet were doubly fetter'd.
If you, as Remora stops Ship,
Should hold me least I give the slip
If once 'twere fair enough ne're fear ye
I'de turn my self into a Wherry.
I'de row with hands, sans further pudder:
And stick a Pole in A--- for Rudder.
But Girle be sure hang out in sight:
At Garret window long watch-light.
Don't fail, for if you do by Cock
I may be split against a Rock.
In the mean while, wench! take my Letter,
It must be so since 'tis no betrer.
Carry't to bed we'you if you like 'um:
And fancy what we'l do when I come,
VVhich shall be soon as winds will let;
Though now we're far asunder; yet
Here rests your Servant to command her,
For ever and for age Leander.

OVID TRAVESTIE. Epist. III. Laodameia to Protesilaus.

These are to let you know my Dear,
I wish you well as I am here.
They say that you are kept 'ith' Straits
And onely for a good wind wait.
But 'las my Dear! tell me I pray
What wind wast when you went away.
I wish the Sea did then so roar
As you might soon have come a shore.
You went away, methinks, so odly
That I could hardly bid you God b' wi'.
I bid the wench but fetch a Light,
VVhen strait they say you'r out of sight.
Before that I could fetch my Scarf,
Your nimble feet had reach'd the VVharf.
Nay you were got quite out of hear-
Ing, e're the Cat could lick her ear.
You were a pretious stick of wood,
That leave your tender wife so cou'd.
And unawares too, but you Men
VVere always hard hearted to VVomen.
I made what hast I could, but you
VVere gone without bidding adieu.
Saw you not that my blubber'd cheek,
VVas swell'd so that I could not speak.
And I could scarce as you can tell,
Stammer out fa-fa-fa-farewell.
Then strait I to the Garret skip,
To see if could spy your ship.
Wearied with looking there, I flee down
To the shoar side, but I can see none.
A murrain on't, we lead bad lives,
When our men fight for others wives.
But as I said before when I
Could neither you nor your Boat spy.
I fell into a swoon d'ee mind?
And fear made me to loose behind.
My Gown they presently unbrace,
And cut for hast my bodyes lace.
Under my nose they burn a feather,
And old shoes too with other Leather.
They fetch me Brandy that was mighty,
Strong as any Aqua-vitæ.
One fetches Sirrup, and another
Besprinkles me, and such a pother.
As before never was sed
Since my Grannam bound my head.
At last when one my nose did twich,
I rose and sate me on my breech.
But I did soon such sorrow feel,
I wish I there had kick't up heel.
I ever since put on a sad dress,
And run about like any mad Bess.
I never since have comb'd my Locks
Nor from that time have chang'd my Smock
Have you beheld, as who hath not?
When some unruly boys have got,
A she Pick-pocket Nimming things,
Whether 'twas Money, Watch, or Rings.
How presently young beard less Jury
Make her appear like any fury.
Pull off her head-clothes, and discard her,
Of any thing that then may ward her,
From violence of rotten Eggs,
Horse turds, Stones, or Capons legs.
Just thus like any Bedlam, I
Do run about the Town and cry.
My Mother cryes take heart o' grace,
Come come my Wench, hang't let it pass,
Art not asham'd for to go so
Come fetch your new best Just-au-Corps.
Put on your locks and be as fine,
As pretty Bride or Valentine.
Then I reply, d'ye, think that I
Will put on Silk and Taffaty.
While my Husband, Arms environ,
And is cover'd o're with Iron.
Pox on that sneaking wenching Paris,
The enemy of Camp and Ladies.
May you always want a Surgeon:
And nothing eat but stinking Poor-John.
Why Menelaus will you fight?
I'll warrant Mistriss Ellen's right.
There's many an honester then she
Are hang'd upon the Triple tree,
Dol-common is a Saint unto her:
And who the Devill then would woe her?
'Lass! poor contented Cuckold thou!
Dost love her better cause she's so.
Ah! were but my poor husband safe,
And I could once more see my Rafe:
Great Jove to thee I will be bound,
Give him me back but safe and sound:
I will be bound to thee (I say)
To thank thee twice or thrice a day.
Good Lord, how I do quake and fear!
To think but of a Musketeer.
Than a Cannon I roar lowder,
If I chance to think of Powder.
And when e're a rope I spy,
I fancy 'tis Match presently.
Paris that cow'ardly Cavalier,
Durst not have stole Nell for his ear.
But that he knew well Menelaus
Old man had nothing to dismay us.
Besides the lying cogging Rogue,
Did so court his wife and collogue
Ruffling in cloaths of silk and Sattin,
And speaking broken ends of Latine.
So waiting Gentlewoman's said,
To loose her precious Maidenhead.
When any serving man or Groom,
Doth give her Ring or silver Spoon.
Then by and by I think of Hector,
I'd's lieve have seen a Ghost or Spectre.
Oh how I fear! and my fear much is:
Lest you should come within his cluthes.
For killing he doth take delight in:
And is (they say) old dog at fighting.
He's such a Bug-bear to us all,
That when the Children do but bawl.
Say but hark, Hectors coming; hish!
They are as silent as a fish.
But as you love your life, I pray
Be sure to keep out of harm's way.
And more I bid you have a care,
Least Hector catch you unaware.
And whensoever you do fight,
Pray have me always in your sight.
For suppose you should come to harm,
And in Battel loose Leg or Arm.
Or if you impotent should be,
What think you would become of me?
Are there not skroofy Rogues enow,
To go to war, unless you go.
Rogues that are good for nothing, but
To kill and slay, to hack and cut.
Why what a Pox need we care whether,
He and his wife e're come together?
Let other Rascalls go to fight,
Thou shalt do that onely at night.
The truth is I was very unwilling,
And would ha'given thrice ten shilling:
With all my other goods and Chattles,
That you had never gone to battels:
For why the night before you went,
A grievous dream did me torment;
And what's a bad sign I suppose,
The Rats had all begnawn your hose.
But have a care, I doubt not Love,
But these will old wives fables prove.
And yet it is reported Lilly,
(Who though men talk is not so silly)
Doth say that who the Trojan Land
Doth touch first with his foot or hand:
He quickly to Peg-Trantrum's must,
And lay his body in the dust.
Let your ship be the last that put in:
And have a care how you set footing.
But when you are returning, Pray;
Be you the first that comes away.
Put up your Sail and stoutly row:
And all the way cry, through Bridge ho;
For every night and every day
I think it long while you're away.
Especially at night, for then
You know we most do miss you men.
The night is women's only joy,
When we our appetites do cloy.
Instead of which I lye in fear
And sometimes dream that you are here.
And fancy that you clip and then
You kiss and let me go agen.
Then with your Arms you do me cover,
And otherwise your Love discover.
These joyes in sleep I undergo,
But waking find 'tis nothing so.
Another time I dream we're billing:
And by and by that you are killing.
Now methinks you are well bang'd:
And then I think I see you hang'd.
Then up I start and in my Smock,
For all my Maids I quickly knock.
That done we fall to Pray'r amain,
That Jove would send you home again.
How long now will it be my Dear,
Before that we shall see you here.
Or how long will it be e're I
Shall with you in bed folded lye.
When you shall tell me all the story,
How such brave fellows fell before ye.
Also how many common slaves
You sent pell mell unto their graves.
How Hector came with hanger touring:
And how you then did scape a scouring.
Then here you cry I met a Clown
And kissing me, thus knockt him down.
But when agen I think upon
The enemy are ten to one.
And know for all Ulysse plot,
Your men are like to go to pot.
They make no more of you then Muttons:
And then agen my A--- makes Buttons,
But yet nothing doth vex me more,
Then that though wind and Seas do roar.
You run as if 'twere for your lives:
He needs must go the Devill drives.
It seems the truth of this you've found
That born to b'hang'd shall ne're be drown'd
Otherwise you would be wiser
To strive for that's not worth a Cicer.
That Nell is but a Whore at best,
For whom the Grecian Lads contest
Come leave the Camp and home again:
If you have any Guts in brain.
The Trojan Girls I envy: they
Can see their Warriours ev'ry day.
All day they for Priamus fight,
And yet are Mettlesome at night.
Then in the morn each bouncing Lass,
Her Warriour again does dress.
For his breakfast he doth take
A piece of Pudden or Oat-Cake.
Such lusty Ale they sup between um:
There's none from Kissing that can win 'um.
Then out my Two-Shoes goes and struts,
After that he hath fill'd his guts.
And then he roars out fee fa fum,
I smell the blood of Grecian man.
But good my Love do not come near,
I am almost bepist for fear.
Then home agen at 'een he comes:
And gives his wife some Suger Plums.
But alass! 'tis two year since;
I had my due benevolence.
But yet for all you are away:
Your Picture doth with me still stay.
It is so like you in good sooth
As if 'twere spit out of your mouth.
With it I often seal my Letter,
Instead of Thimble which is better.
I charge you by my Maiden-head,
By wedding Ring and Marriage bed;
And by the pleasant sport and play,
I had before you went away.
That you all sort of danger shun:
Let who will fight be sure you run.
For by my Cat-skin Muff, and Fan,
I hope to see y' a good old man.
And thus with my affection fervent:
I rest
Your
very humble
Servant

OVID TRAVESTIE. Epist. IV. Hero to Leander.

Just now I did receive my Dear,
Yours of the fourteenth instant here.
And what d'you think I'm ere the better
To kiss your dull kind-hearted Letter?
I am not able to live thus;
Come, come your self and giv's a buss.
E're since you left me 'thas been blew days
And ev'ry one as long as two days.
Could I but swim so well as you
In spight of th'Devill I would through.
S'bobs, I would be out done by no man;
Was I a man and you a woman:
How bravely would I play my part,
VVe VVomen are not worth a F---
You men can Hunt and Fish and Plow:
Alass poor Souls, we know not how.
You can thresh, when t'our shame be't spoke,
VVe can no more than man in Cloak.
You can to town drive team and Horses,
Sell Corn put money up in Purses.
And then go whistling into th'Harrow:
There drink your liquor like to Barrow-
Pigs, for an hour or two, then out
VVith Key and Purse, and lay down Groats,
VVell there's my Grannam she take's snuff,
And says she thinks you'r old enough,
To know your betters, and not make us
Tarry so long and for sear quake thus.
Why don't you come here and make much on's
If you are not made meat for Gudgeons.
You make one stare and swear like mad,
And scold, and wish the Devil had
The Thames for being so rough and boystr's
Well if there's e're a Quean buys Oysters,
That scolds so much at Gate call'd Billings.
I will be bound to give five shillings.
To tell you in good sober sadness
It makes me ev'n cry for madness.
Your Gloves you left when you ran staring
Away, will mould for want of wearing;
And yet I hang 'um by the Bellows:
I doubt (my Love) they are not fellows.
When't's dark, before there's e're a star yet
Up goes long Watchlight into Garret.
That when thou comest pickel'd like souse
Thou mayst be sure to find the house,
Then to keep heavy eyes awake
Old spinning wheel in hand I take:
And sing to cast off thoughts and cares,
When Troy Town for seven years wars.
Old Grannee nods, and I suppose
Keeps time too long with Shiptons nose.
Then up I start and unstring Wheel,
And cry, I wonder why the Dee'l.
This Rogue don't come, what does he think
I can sit up, not sleep a wink
All night, but sigh and sob and con
O're Robinhood and little John.
If our Dog Spot does howl or bark,
I cry out peace good Grannee, hark
The Rogue is landed now, i'le warrant.
Well Sirrah, if thou wast an arrant
Villain, thou wouldst Be hang'd before
Thou'dst stay so long, e're thou camest o're
Grannee and I pig in together
At last and sleep out all ill weather.
But e're I went to bed, I think
I'd eaten egg and salt sans drink.
For in, me thinks, like to drown'd Rat
Thou com'st, and down on breech dost squat
At head of bed, crying my Dear
'Ch'ave brought thee one good zoop of beer.
Then into bed whipt in a trice,
Fright'st me with feet as cold as Ice,
Wak'st me to boot, breakst dream: when still lo!
No creature's by me but my pillow.
Thou flipst like Eel from out of clutches
Although thy bulk as big as Dutch is.
The Thames indeed is woundy rough
Now, but last night 'twas smooth enough.
You might have come then here to land sir
As easily, as kist your hand Sir.
But you like Ninny must stand prating
And for fair wind and tide too waiting:
Till old time though he goes on Crutches,
Slips with his bald pate, out of Clutches.
Make hast you Rogue my fingers itch
To hug thee, just as Dev'l hug's Witch.
Let it raign Dogs and Cats, a fart for't.
I'le warrant then wee'd never part for't.
Where is thy wonted courage Sirrah:
Can a storm keep thee from thy Dear' a.
VVhat can wind make thee hold up snout
Like frighted pig, and grunt about:
Till thou hast found out warmer sty:
Alass! for pitty poor Pigsnie.
VVell I remember once, but when it
VVas, I can't tell; 'bout this day sennight.
Thou camest in with a powder hether
Inspight of blustring wind and weather.
But now thou layst ears close in Poll
Resolv'st to sleep in skin that's whole.
And for my part I think't not fitting,
A man should drown in ditch like Kitten.
No rather stay till storm is over:
So you rest too a faithful Lover.
But I'm a fear'd thou'lt not abide
Being Prentice brave, wench o'th' Bankside
VVould thou wast hang'd, ten times, before
Thou shou'd'st maintain a Rival whore.
VVould I were hang'd poor soul to boot,
For it would kill me shouldst thou doo't,
For ought I know 'tmay go so far
That for't thou may'st be call'd to Bar.
For sure my friends would see me righted,
If dead of grief for being slighted.
So thou'dst for sweet heart, joyned be
In true Love's knot to Gallow-tree.
But there's no fear, I warrant, wee'l
Prove to each other true as steel.
For if thou'lt be but faithfull ever
VVhen others fail, I will persever.
O fearful! what a grievous clatter
Here is between, this wind and water.
If 'twere but nere so little louder,
You'd swear curst Papists werewith Powder
Of Gun now blowing Thames or'e City,
To drownd poor Cits, sans any Pitty.
Or that great Whale was come up tumbling,
Through Br. with fearful noise & rumbling
To show himself with jaws so wide
In Booth at fair next Bartelm-tide.
Good Thames if thus you needs must roar
Go huff it at the boy ith' Nore.
And do not play these Roguish pranks
Between two honest civil banks:
The like to which ben't found in Europe,
If there be, hang me with a new rope.
If you'l drown; drown Lighters or Hoys,
But prethee spare poor harmless Boys.
My sweet-heart's none of those that use
To come a washing to the sluce,
And there like Rogues lay tails in water,
And fling't about in faces a'ter.
No he is; take him altogether,
As good as tread's on shooe of Leather.
O spare him he holds up my Chin:
And if he drown's, I must fall in.
VVell there's a stranger in the Candle
A bright one too, you Rogue who can tell
But it may be that knave Leander,
VVho can come where no other man dare?
My old Grannam's making posset,
VVe to your health in spoons will toss it
Come, come away you Rogue, and eat some
Since the fare over is no great sum.
VVhat's two-pence in your poke? in sooth
No more then Apple in Cow's mouth.
VVer't coming, if I could but know thee
I'de wade up to the ancles to thee.
I caren't a pin for being wet shod
No more then, for being neat-shod.
I cannot for my life be merry,
To think you'l venture ore sans wherry.
Yet to say true, I hope you shall
Come so, rather then not at all,
I hate with all my heart to slout ye
I'd as live be hang'd, as be without ye.
Take my word on't or here's my fist,
And a good one too, though I say't i'st.
But prithee have a care of Cramp,
Use remedies, as for examp—
Ple, wear bone Ring on thumb, or tye
Strong Pack-thread hard, below your thigh
For last night late to tell you true
My Candel as I sate burnt blew.
Which put poor me in horrid fright,
And expectation of black spright,
With Sawcer eyes, and horns and tail,
Alass! I was like ashes pale,
Prithee don't shew thy self fool-hardy,
And drown, because forsooth you dar dye.
For when you'r gone, there'l be no hope
For Hero but in Well or Rope
Come come, e're long 't may cease to rain,
Then all things will be well again.
In the mean time I'le write beneath
Your kind and faithful
Friend till Death.

OVID TRAVESTIE. Epist. V. Penelope to Ulysses.

These Pen: present's with many kisses,
To be left for Goodman Ulysses.
Look all about, till at some neighbour's
You've found him, else you'l loose your labours,
The Wake at Troy, and Cudgell Play
Is done sure, then what makes you stay?
Since all our Parish are return'd!
Would Lord and Lady both were burn'd.
For keeping you so, to my sorrow:
Pray, who shall do your work tomorrow?
We shall be all undone; O heavens!
How all things lye at six and sevens!
Would our Nell had been hang'd for gadding
To be their Lady, with a fadding.
She with a Pox, made all this work
Made Greek and Trojans fight like Turk.
If she had stai'd and done what's fitting
Minded her carding and her knitting:
I should not need like doleful elf
To sit at home and spin my self:
And go at last a lone to bed,
No man can tell, alive or dead.
What is become of you you Rascall.
Yet like an honest wife I ask all.
I could not tell but that at Cud
Gels, you might draw some Trojan blood,
From broken Pate, or batter'd Shin,
And so the quarrel might begin.
Or for foul play, by vexed rabble,
Be knock'd at head and kill'd ith squabble.
There is a Plaguy rogue one Hector,
(Would he froms shoulders had his neck tore
Or from his body his arms broke off)
I can't abide to hear him spoke off.
They say he crack'd Ralph Doughty's noddle
As quickly as you'd sup up Caudle.
And threw Rob. Hood at Cornish hug;
As easily, as you'd drink jug:
Although he did Jack's doublet put on;
Because his own had nere a Button.
These Troians had no cause to brag
At last though, far you made 'em wag.
And though North threw us out so fast,
I'm sure West got the day at last.
And old great Barn, that many years
Had been Lord's house, was pull'd 'bout ears
But now all's done, and every body
Is come home, pretty sound and hoddy.
They've bust their Wives, and not to wrong 'em
There's not 'bove two crackt pates among 'em.
They kept us up last night awake
Long time, to hear what news from Wake.
They spit and spawl and in their drivell
Th'whole manner of the Pastimes reveal.
Here with his Thumb one draws the Green.
There once the Barn was to be seen.
Just there stood your goodman Ulysses
Here Hector such a man as this is.
Then with his finger draws out such
A bulky fellow men call Dutch.
Here comes me up a surly Trojan
Breaks poor Greek's pate, how pray, just so Jan
Says nimble Gossip; and as soon
With bended knuckle crack's knav's Crown
Here sits another with Lass prating:
And tells long story o'th' Bull-baiting.
How Dogs came on as fierce as Lion
And nose of Bull or eyes did flye on.
But strait were tost by crooked horn,
And on backs of spectators born.
And then how people do nought but shout
Although poor Cur has squelcht his guts out
Old Gransire grey-beard yclepy'd Nester
Told our boy Thomas all the rest, or
Else we hadn't known it; who came creeping
To Rhesus as he lay a sleeping:
And with quick hand, while none did spy,
Pick't both his pockets dextrously.
How dar'd you? had he wak't from sleep
You might perhaps have felt the whip
At tail of Cart, or had the story
O'th' Crime pinn'd o're you in Pillory.
In vain have you pull'd Barn to Ground,
If you are no where to be found.
'Tis to no purpose that wak's over,
If I must still be without Lover.
There's a Creature comes this road
But I enquire of your abode.
And if you clothes and victu'lls need.
Then send a line with care and speed,
To be deliver'd as aforesaid,
For what's once said, need's be no more said
We've sent to all towns hereabout
The Dee'l a bit we find you out.
Would Barn had still stood fast at Troy:
I should know where to have thee Boy.
Thou wouldst have been there with wench dancing:
Or else 'pon Doghorse on Green prancing.
And had they play'd still, as at first
At Cudgles, then I'd known the worst.
A Broken pate or bruised ancle
Is all they get, when most they wrangle.
Now to my sorrow, thou alass!
Art faln in Love with Country Lass.
Perhaps, who in best clothes and Hat
Came there to see she knew not what.
And hand in hand are gone to Ale-house
With other Wentches and their Fellows.
And there wilt spend thy time and money
Nere thinking on poor Pen. thy honny.
My Dad, if there's no way to cure it,
Say's I'm a fool if I'le endure it.
And, that he'll hang on the next bough
If there be not more men enow,
That would have Pen. with all their heart.
But we I hope shall never part,
I'le never leave Master Ulysses
No one has such a face as his is.
Here's all the neighbours hereabout
Come in and drink the strong Beer out.
I'me sure I cannot name 'em all
That dust it daily in our Hall.
There's not a Begger that we here of
But comes and sokes his jug of Beer oft
And among all this ragged rout
Will. Goatheard trowls the Bowl about.
I dare not these mad pranks oppose
For fear they'l have me by the nose:
And old Laertes fears as much
They'l come and take away his Crutch:
And then with nere a staff in hand Sir,
Down to the ground comes grey-beard Grand-sire
Then Tom. to quarrel is not fit
For he's a little simple Chit.
Were he but old enough no question
He'd box'em as well as the best on
Us all: He is of courage stout
But knows not how to lay about.
You must come teach him play at Cudgells
I'me sure to fight, he'l never budge else.
Old Daddy is so sleepy yonder
He scarce can hold eye-lyds a sunder.
Prithee come home let's go to bed
For sleep we all are almost dead
Since you went I have been so mouzell'd
Tumbled about, and toss'd and touzeled
That though my neighbours know me rich,
They say I look like ugly Witch.
If you come not soon, I may then chance
To fetch you homewards with a vengeance
For I your abscence do much resent,
And so I have no more at present.