The Miser mump'd of his Gold:
OR,
The merry Frollick of a Lady of Pleasure, in Bartholomew-Fair: Shewing, how she fed
the Usurer with Pig, but made him pay for the Sawce.
To the Tune of Let Caesar live long. Licensed according to Order.
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A Lady of Pleasure in Bartholomew-Fair,
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Was powder'd and painted, nay drest in her Hair,
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In such rich Apparel she then did appear,
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As if her Estate was Ten Thousand a Year:
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Of each huffing Gallant she would make an Ass,
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She fed them with Pig, but they paid for the Sawce.
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Among all the rest, I will mention but one,
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A Miser, who is in fair London well known,
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Yet I will forbear now to mention his Name,
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Because I am willing to keep free from blame;
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Of this wretched Miser she made a meer Ass,
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She fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce.
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'Tis known this old Miser he seldom did eat,
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From Years-end to Years-end, a meal of good Meat,
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Except i[?] was given him freely, and then
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He would eat as much as five labouring Men:
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He hapn'd to meet with this Beautiful Lass,
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Who fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce.
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It hapn'd this Miser went over the Rounds,
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And under his Arm he had sevenscore Pounds,
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The which he was going that Morning to lend;
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This Lady she met him, and said, my dear Friend,
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Your former good Nature lays claim to a Glass;
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She found Wine and Pig, but he paid for the Sowce.
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The Miser he told her, he dare not drink Wine,
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Nor any such Liquers, until he had Din'd;
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Quoth she, since we here did so luckily meet,
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I now am resolved to give thee a Treat;
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Away to her Chamber they straightways did pass,
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She fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce.
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A Dinner she straightways provided with speed,
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The Miser he like an old Farmer did feed,
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Concluding that he should have nothing to pay,
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But to eat and drink, aye and so go his way:
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The Lady supply'd him with Glass after Glass,
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She found him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce.
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This Lady supply'd him with Liquor good store,
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'Till he was not able to drink any more,
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Full Bowls of Canary he had drank so deep,
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That all of a sudden he fell fast asleep:
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Thus of this Old Miser she made a meer Ass,
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She fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce.
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She shook him, and finding that he would not wake,
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The Sevenscore Pound she did presently take;
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Then locking the Miser up in an old Chest,
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This brings me, in short, to the Cream of the Jest:
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Thus her waggish purpose was soon brought to pass,
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She fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce.
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Now he having told her before where he dwelt,
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In this subtle manner she cunningly dealt;
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Straight calling a Porter to finish this strife,
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The Miser she sent in a Chest to his Wife,
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Without e're a Penny in Silver, alas!
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Thus she fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce.
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This Lady she gave him two Shillings at first,
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And bid him be sure he was true to his Trust,
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Now for to deliver his Burthen with Care;
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For why I must tell you it is Merchants Ware:
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And thus the poor Miser was made a meer Ass,
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She fed him with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce.
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Now just as the Porter came home to his Door,
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The Miser awak'd and loudly did roar;
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The honest poor Porter was frighen'd alack!
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Supposing he had Old Nick at his back:
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But it was the wretched Old Miser, alas!
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Who was fed with Pig, but he paid for the Sawce.
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The Wife she was frightn'd this Wretch to behold;
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The Miser stark mad for his Silver and Gold,
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But all was in vain, tho' he search'd Smithfield round,
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The Lady of Pleasure was not to be feund
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Thus of an old Miser she made a meer Ass,
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She gave him roast Pig, but he paid for the Sawce.
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