[The Prodigals Resolution.]
OR
My Father was Born before me.
To a Pleasant New Tune.
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I Am a lusty lively Lad,
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now come to one and twenty,
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My Father left me all he had,
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both Gold and Silver plenty.
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Now hes in Grave, I will be brave,
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the Ladies shall adore me,
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Ile court and kiss, what hurts in this,
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My Dad did so before me.
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My Father was a thrifty Sir,
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till Soul and body sundred,
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Some say he was a Usurer,
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for thirty in the hundred;
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He scrapt, & scratchd, she pincht & patchd
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that in her belly bore me;
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But ile let flye, a good cause why,
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My Father was born before me.
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My Daddy had his Duty done,
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in getting so much treasure,
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Ile be as dutiful a Son,
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for spending it in pleasure:
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Five pounds a quart, shall chear my heart
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such Necture will restore me,
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When Ladies call, Ile have at all,
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My Father was born before me.
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My Grandam livd at Washington,
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my Grandsir delvd in Ditches,
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The Son of old John Thrashington,
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whose lanthorn leathern Breeches,
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Cryd, whither go ye, whither go ye,
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though men do now adore me,
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They ner did see my Pedigree,
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Nor who was born before me.
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MY grandsir strivd & wivd & thrivd
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till he did Riches gather,
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And when he had much wealth atchievd,
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O than he got my Father:
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Of happy memory cry I,
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that ere his Mother bore him,
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I had not been worth a penny,
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Had I been born before him,
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To Free-school Cambridge, & Grays-Inn
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my Grey-coat Grandsir put him,
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Till to forget (he did begin)
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the Leathern Breech that got him:
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One dealt in Straw, tother in Law,
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the one did Ditch and Delve it,
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My Father store of Sattin wore,
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My Grandsir Beggers Velvet,
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So get I wealth, what care I if
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my Grandsir were a Sawyer,
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My Father provd to be a chief,
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subtle and Learned Lawyer,
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By Cooks Reports and tricks in Court,
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he did with Treasure store me,
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That I may say, Heavens bless the day,
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My Father was born before me.
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Some say of late, a Merchant that
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had gotten store of Riches:
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Ins Drinking-room hung up his Hat,
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his staff and Leathern Breeches,
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His stockings garterd up with straws,
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ere Providence did store him,
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His Son was Sheriff of London cause,
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His father was born before him.
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So many blades that rant in silk,
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and put on Scarlet cloathing,
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At first did spring from Butter-milk,
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their Ancestors worth nothing:
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Old Adam, and our Grandam Eve,
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by diging and by spining,
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Did to all Kings and Princes give
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Their Radical beginning.
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My Father to get me estate,
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though selfish yet was slavish,
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Ile spend it at another rate,
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and be as lewdly lavish:
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From Mad-men, Fools, & knaves he did
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litigiously receive it,
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If so he did Justice forbid,
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But I to such should leave it.
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At Play-houses, and Tennis-Court,
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Ile prove a noble Fellow,
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Ile Court my Doxies to the sport,
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of O brave Punchinello:
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Ile Dice and Drab, and Drink and stab,
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no Hector shall out-roar me,
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If Teachers tell me tales of Hell,
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My Father is gone before me.
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Our aged Counsellors would have
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us live by Rule and Reason,
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Cause they are marching to the Grave,
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and pleasures out of season,
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Ile learn to Dance the Mode of France,
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that Ladies may adore me,
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My thrifty Dad no pleasure had,
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Though he was born before me.
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Ile to the Court where Venus sport,
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doth Revel it in plenty,
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Ile deal with all, both geeat and small,
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from twelve to five and twenty:
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In Play-houses ile spend my days,
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for theyr hung round with Plackets,
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Ladies make room, behold I come,
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have at your KNOCKING Jackets.
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