An Excellent Medley,
Which you may admire at (without offence)
For every line speaks a contrary sense.
The Tune is, Tarletons Medley.
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IN Summer time when folks make Hay,
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All is not true that people say,
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The Fools the wisest in the Play,
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tush take away your hand.
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The Fidlers Boy hath broke his Base,
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Sirs is not this a pitious case,
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Must gallants loath to smell the Mare
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of Wood-street.
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The City follows Courtly pride,
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Jone swears she cannot John abide,
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Dick wears a Dagger by his side,
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come tell us whats to pay.
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The Lawyers thrives by others fall,
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The weakest always goes to thwall,
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The Shoo-maker commandeth all
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ats pleasure.
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The Weaver prays for Huswives store,
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A pretty woman was Jane Shore,
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Kick the base Rascal out oth door,
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peace, peace, you brawling Curres.
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A Cuckolds band wears out behind,
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Tis easie to beguile the blind,
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All people are not of one mind,
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hold Carman.
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Our women cut their hair like men,
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The Cocks ore-mastered by the Hen,
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Theres hardly one good friend in ten,
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turn there on the right hand:
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But few regard the cries oth poor,
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Will spendeth all upon a Whore,
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The Souldier longeth to go ore
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brave knocking.
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What shall we do in these sad days?
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Will not the wicked mend their waies,
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Some lose their lives in drunken frays,
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the pudding burns to th pot:
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The Cooper says the Tubs be-pist,
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The Cobler preaches what he list,
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Their knavery now is manifest,
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hold Halter.
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When the fifth Henry saild to France,
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Let me alone for a Country dance,
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Nell doth bewail her luckless chance,
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fie on false-hearted men:
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Dick Tarleton was a merry wag,
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Hark how that prating Ass doth brag,
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John Dory sold his ambling Nag,
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for Kick-shaws.
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THe Saylor counts the Ship his house,
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Ile say no more but Duns the Mouse,
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He is no man that scorns a Louse,
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vain pride undoes the Land:
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Hard-hearted-men makes corn so dear,
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Few French-men love well English Bear,
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I hope ere long good news to hear,
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hey Lustick.
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Now hides are cheap the Tonner thrives,
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Hang those base knaves that beat their wives,
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He needs must go that the Devil drives,
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God bless us from a Gun:
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The Beadles make the lame to run,
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Vaunt not before the battels won,
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A cloud sometimes may hide the Sun,
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chance medley.
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The Surgeon thrives by fencing schools
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Some for strong liquor pawn their tools,
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For one wise-man theres twenty fools,
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oh when shall we be married?
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In time of youth when I was wild,
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Who toucheth pitch shall be defild,
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Mol is afraid she is with child,
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peace Peter.
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The poor still hopes for better days,
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I do not love these long delays,
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All love and charity decays,
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in the daies of old:
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Im very loath to pawn my Cloak,
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Meer poverty doth me provoke,
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They say a scald head is soon broke,
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poor trading.
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Hark, mother hark, theres news in town,
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What tell you me of half a Crown,
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Now the Exise is going down,
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thou pratest like an Ass:
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I scorn the Coyn give me the man,
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Pray pledge the health Sir I began,
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I love King Charles say what you can,
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God save him.
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The Dutch-men thrive by Sea and Land,
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Women are Ships and must be mand,
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Lets bravely to our colours stand,
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Courage my hearts of Gold:
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I read in modern Histories,
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The King of Swedens victories,
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At Islington theres Pudding Pies,
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hot Custards.
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The Tapster is undone by Chalk,
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Tush tis in vain to prate and talk,
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The Parret prattles, walk knaves walk,
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Duke Humphrey lies in Pauls:
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The souldiers hath but small regard,
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Theres weekly news in Pauls-Church Yard
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The poor man crys the world grows hard,
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cold winter.
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Heigh for New England hoyse up sail,
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The truth is strong and will prevail,
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Fill me a cup of nappy Ale,
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hang care the Kings a comming.
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This Egg hath long a hatching been,
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When you have done then weel begin,
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Oh what an age do we live in,
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hang pinching.
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From Long-lane cloath, & Turn-stile boots,
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O fie upon these scabbed Coots,
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The cheapest meat is Reddish roots,
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come all for a penny.
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Light my Tobacco quickly here,
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There lies a pretty woman near,
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This Boy will come to naught I fear,
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proud Coxcombe.
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The world is full of odious sins,
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Tis ten to one but this horse wins,
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Fools set stools to break wise mens shins,
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This mans more knave then fool,
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Jane oft in private meets with Tom,
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Husband thou art kindly welcome home,
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Hast any mony; lend me some,
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Ime broken.
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In antient times all things were cheap,
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Tis good to look before you leap.
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When Corn is ripe, tis time to reap,
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once walking by the way,
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A jealous man the Cuckow loaths,
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The Gallant Complements with Oaths,
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A wench will make you sell your cloaths,
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run Broker.
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The Courtiers and the Country man
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Lets live as honest as we can:
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When Arthur first in Court began
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his men wore hanging sleeves.
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In May when Grass and Flowers green,
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The strangest sight that ere was seen,
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God send our gracious King and Queen,
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to London.
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