A Description of Bartholomew-Fair.
Whether this be wit or nonsense, who need care,
'Tis like the subject, which is Bartholomew-Fair;
A mess of all-together, well enough,
To get good Money, which will make us huff,
And swagger bravely, drink a Glass, or so,
With some kind she-acquaintance, which you know,
Are pretty tempting things, so much for that,
I now must come to tell you plain and flat,
That in this Song the whole Fair you may view,
You may believe me when I tell you true.
To the Tune of, Digby's Farewel.
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YOu Bartholomew Tapsters I first do advise,
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To take my good Counsel if that you be wise,
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Your hearts now are merry, but your heads full of care,
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How to get store of Money this Bartholomew-Fair:
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Use a Conscience in measure, and give all men their due,
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And when that 'tis late thrust away the rude Crew:
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Be merry and wise, and give each man content,
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And then of your actions you'l never repent.
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You must entertain both the good and the bad,
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Sometimes the bold Hector that rides on the Pad,
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Jilts, Biters, Prigs, Lifters, to him do resort,
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All which well observ'd will afford you good sport;
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The Foylers, Kidnappers, and Bulkers also,
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For to lay their design to your Houses will go,
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Your eyes must be quick both behind and before,
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Look well to their tricks or they'l pinch you full sore.
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The Country Cully comes up to the Town,
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With good store of money, to stair up and down,
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He admires Jack-Pudding, who studies to please him,
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Whilst a Pick-pocket whore of his money doth ease him:
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He nothing mistrusts, but laughs out aloud,
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Still praising the Fool with the rest of the crowd;
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A Copper-lac'd Petticoat, and Face full of Paint,
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Makes the young Country fool think the devil a Saint.
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If his Pocket miss picking whilst he's in the Fair,
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It is sure to be done when more private they are;
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For he picks up a Girl with her fine curled locks,
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Who for Two and Six-pence will sell him the Pox.
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And whilst he's admiring her languishing Eyes,
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Overcome with delight, then she doth him surprize,
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She tickles his Coyn, whilst she plays with his hair,
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Then away marches Betty again to the Fair.
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But when she is gone he begins to bethink,
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What should be the reason his money won't chinck,
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He feels in his Pocket and finds all is gone,
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Which makes him lament his sad fortune alone:
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He curses his fate, and begins for the swear,
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How damnable dear he has paid for his Ware;
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Yet dares not discover his folly, least he
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A mock to his friends and his Neighbours should be.
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The finikin Shop-keeper once in their Year,
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To eat a Pigs-head takes his Wife to the Fair;
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There is no denyal, he with her must go,
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And takes in his Pocket an Angel or two;
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Then merry they make while the Musique doth play,
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But if I been't mistaken full dear they must pay;
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A Crown for the head of a Pig three Weeks old,
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All this must be had or my Mistris will scold.
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The second part, to the same Tune.
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THeir Children must with them, if that they have any,
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'Tis forty to one but they have a great many:
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The climate is fruitful, the soyl fat and good,
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All things to be had for to nourish the blood:
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There's no fear of encrease, which if they can go,
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They must to the Fair for to see a fine Show:
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Being drest very fine, like young Lords and Ladies,
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The Boys must have bows, & the girls must have babies
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The spritely young Prentice must not be forgot,
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One day in the Fortnight must fall to his lot,
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The Servant-Maid with him so trim he doth take,
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And briskly doth treat her with a Pot and a Cake;
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If his Purse it be strong, he will venture to see
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The Monkies to dance, and the Goose with legs three;
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All this having seen, he home doth repair,
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Being enough for to talk of until the next Fair.
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All those that have Money and want any Ware,
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Let them walk to Smithfield this Bartholomew-Fair:
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All sorts of moveables there may be had,
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You must venture your lot 'mongst the good and the bad;
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Gloves, Ribbonds, Kinves, Scizzars, with Jack in a box,
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Fine Ladies with patches, and powder'd with pox:
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With a Cock and a Gelding, with Whistle and Rattle,
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All which serve to please the young Kids that can pratle.
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With drums & with trumpets you'l hear a great noise,
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And arch Merry Andrew will rend out his voice:
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Though his looks are but simple, & his actions the same,
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Yet he knows well enough how to play a safe Game:
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By playing the fool he does get store of Coyn,
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Which buys him good cheer, good beer, and good wine
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And when the night comes, he puts off his disguise,
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All day he's a fool, but at night he is wise.
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All you that are single and free from all strife,
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Yet seem to have courage to match with a Wife;
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You here may be fitted of every degree,
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With all sorts and sizes you coupled may be;
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If in the long run you do fear she'l prove sowre,
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You here may make choice of a Wife for an hour;
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Search all the World over, no place can compare,
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For such sorts of pleasure, with Bartholomew-Fair.
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Then away bonny Lads, and fine Lasses make haste,
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And some of those Bartholomew rich rarities taste;
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No question but all of you will have content,
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And that of your money you will not repent:
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Make use of your time, whilst time you have here,
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Who knows who shall be at the Fair the next Year?
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Merry Andrew doth call you, the musick invites,
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To partake of their pleasure, and taste their delights.
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