The silver Age,
or, The World turned backward.
To a pleasant new Court tune.
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M Y Lady Pecunia
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is a faire creature,
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All cloathed in silver,
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according to nature:
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She flieth most freely,
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none doth await her,
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To wash off her pinions
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by counterfeit water.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a changing age.
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The Lord and the Lady,
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the Begger the Knight,
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For Lady Pecunia
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cares not a Doit:
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Redeemed from prison,
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she taketh delight,
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To goe to the Prodigall
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spender aright.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a wasting age.
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Our lusty brave gallants
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now walkes among clownes
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With their full pockets
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well stored with crownes,
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To give to poore people
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the rents of their grounds,
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where almes of brasse farthings
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are changed to pounds.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a bountifull age.
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The Merchant refuseth
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to gaine by adventure,
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The Citizen leaveth
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to lend by Indenture.
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Young gallants grow carelesse
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their titles to enter,
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But put their whole livings
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to'th stretch of the tenter.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a liberall age.
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Rich mizers have turned
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their gold to good cheare,
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And bids the poore begger
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most kindly draw neare:
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And with the fat gluttons,
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they spend away sheere,
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What greedinesse gained
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by fraud in ten yeares.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a spending age.
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He that hath riches
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lockt up in his chest,
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With too many crosses
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himselfe he hath blest.
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To raise up the divell,
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his mind to molest,
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But conjur'd by conscience,
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in quiet doth rest.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a mending age.
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Young women grow weary
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of walking the street,
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They scarce in a Taverne,
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will set in their feet,
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Their husbands they feare not,
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with whom they doe meet,
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And like to good Angels
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they never doe fleet.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a vertuous age.
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The bawd and the pander
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are turned to grace,
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And for a full pocket
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they hold it but base.
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A wench that is painted,
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comes not into place,
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For feare lest the beadle
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her shoulders uncase,
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is an honest age.
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The Tapster still living
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by foame and by froth,
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The Broaker that eateth
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most like to the moath,
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Are now turned honest
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and vertuous both:
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One penny ill gotten
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to take they are loath.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is an honest age.
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The second part. To the same tune.
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C Armen and Porters
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are now no more dogged,
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Nor the old watermen
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rough and so hogged,
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The Thames lately frozen,
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with want have them clogged
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Now money comes trouling,
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for which they have jogged.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a bettered age.
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Baylifes and Serjeants
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all pittifull be,
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And to the poore debtors
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lends money most free.
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And wait in the Taverne,
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untill they agree,
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Not taking one penny
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in lieu of their fee.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a favourable age.
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The honest true Hostler
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repenting his sins,
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Now careth for money,
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no more then for pins,
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The size of his provander
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justly begins,
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To bring Lady conscience
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to all our good Innes.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a mending age.
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Old fraud and false dealing
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[have] changed their ditty,
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At Aldermans houses
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for Porter stands pitty:
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With gentle charity,
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smiling most pretty,
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To give to poore people,
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the love of the City.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a mercifull age.
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The wife and the husband,
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unquiet before:
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To win the old breeches,
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will quarrell no more:
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For feare of the Begger
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that stands at the doore.
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For quiet true concord,
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brings plentifull store.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a friendly age.
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Now Lady Pecunia ,
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growes out of regard,
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And turn'd from the Chamber,
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into the cold yard:
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And from all true good men,
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she well may be spar'd,
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When such an age changed,
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yet never was heard.
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Oh this is a silver age,
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Oh this is a wondring age.
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