The English Irish Souldier With his new Discipline, new Armes, old Stomacke, and new taken pillage, who had rather Eate than Fight.
Reading edition
[106.]If any Souldate think I do appeare, In this strange Armes and posture, as a Jeere, Let him advance up to me he shall see, Ile stop his mouth and we wil both agree.
Our Skirmish ended our Enemies fled or slaine Pillage wee cry then, for the Souldiers game, And this compleat Artillery I have got, The best of Souldiers, I think, hateth not.
My Martiall Armes
dealt I amongst my foes
With this I charged stand
'gainst hungers blowes;
This is Munition
if a Souldier lacke,
All safe and cleare, my true Arms rest awhile, And welcome pillage you have foes to soile. This Pot, my Helmet, must not be forsaken, For loe I seiz'd it full of Hens and Bacon.
Rebels for Rebels drest it but our hot rost Made them to flye and now they kisse the post. And better that to kisse than stay for Pullets And have their bellies cram'd with leaden bullets.
This fowle my Feather is, who wins most fame, To weare a pretty Duck he need not shame; This Spit my well chargd Musket with a Goose, Now cryes come eate me, let your stomacks loose.
This Dripping Pan's my target, and this Hartichoke My Basket-hilted blade can make 'em smoake, And make them slash and cut who most Home puts, Ile most my fury sheath into his guts.
This Forke my Rest is, and my Bandaleers Canary Bottles, that can quell base feares, And make us quaffe downe danger, if this not doe, What is it then? can raise a spiritt into fearfull men.
This Match are linkes to light down to my belly Wherein are darksome chinks as I may tell yee, Or Sassages, or Puddings, choose you which, An excellent Needle, Hungers wounds to stitch.
These my Supporters, garter'd with black pots, Can steele the nose & purg the brain of plots; These tosts my shooestrings, steept in this strong fog, Is able of themselves to foxe a Dog.
These Armes being vanisht, once againe appeare A true and faithful Souldier As you were; But if this wants, and that we have no biting In our best Armours we make sorry fighting.
FINIS
Printed at London for R. Wood and A. Coe 1642.
"A Dull and Muddy Mettled rascal, peak, Like John a dreams, impregnant of my cause, And can say nothing."—Hamlet, Act ii. Scene 2.
[93.] There was a Gentleman that dwelt in the West Countrey, and had staid here in London a Tearme longer than hee intended, by reason of a Booke that George (Peele) had to translate out of Greeke into English: and when he wanted money, George had it of the Gentleman, but the more he supplyed him of Coine, the further off he was from his Booke, and could get no end of it, neither by faire meanes, entreatie, or double payment: for George was of the Poeticall disposition, never to write so long as his money lasted; some quarter of the Booke being done, and lying in his hands at randome.
The Gentleman had plotted a meanes to take such an order with George next time he came, that he would have his Booke finished. It was not long before he had his Company; his arrival was for more money; the Gentleman bids him welcome; causeth him to stay dinner, where falling into discourse about his Booke, found it was as neere ended, as he left it two moneths ago. The Gentleman, meaning to be gul'd no longer, caused two of his men to binde George hand and foot in a Chayre: a folly it was for him to aske what they meant by it: the Gentleman sent for a Barber, and George had a beard of an indifferent size, and well growne: he made the Barber shave him beard and head, left him as bare of haire, as he was of money: the Barber he was well contented for his paines, who left George like an old woman in mans apparell: and his voyce became it well, for it was more woman than man. George quoth the Gentleman, I have always used you like a friend, my purse hath beene open to you: that you have of mine to translate, you know it is a thing I highly esteeme: therefore I have used you in this fashion, that I might have an end of my Booke, which shall be as much for your profit as my pleasure. So forthwith he commanded his men to unbinde him, and putting his hand into his pocket, gave him two brace of Angels; quoth hee, Master Peele, drinke this, and by that time you have finished my booke, your beard will be growne, untill which time, I know you will be ashamed to walke abroad. George patiently tooke the gold, said little, and when it was darke night, took his leave of the Gentleman, and went directly home: who, when his wife saw, I omit the wonder shee made, but imagine those that shall behold their husbands in such a case. To bed went George, and ere morning hee had plotted sufficiently how to cry quid pro quo with his politick Gentleman.
[77.] There was a great huge man 3 yards in the Waste, at S. Edmondsbury in Suffolk, that died but of late daies, (one M. Blague by name) & a good kinde Justice too, carefull for the poore; this Justice met with Tarlton in Norwich: Tarlton, said he, give me thy hand; But you, Sir, being richer, may give me a greater gift, give me your body! and imbracing him could not halfe compasse him: being merry in talke, said the Justice; Tarlton tell me one thing, what is the difference betwixt a Flea and a Louse? Marry, Sir, said Tarlton, as much and like difference, as twixt you and me; I like a Flea (see else) can skip nimbly: But you, like a fat Louse creepe slowly, and you can go no faster, were a Butcher's axe over you, ready to knock you on the head. Thou art a knave, quoth the Justice. I, Sir, I knew that ere I came hither, else had I not been here now, for ever one knave (making a stop) seekes out another: the Justice understanding him, laughed heartily.
[17.] A Gentleman had a desire to hire two resolute Ruffians to do some exploit upon one that had abused him: A little after his man brings him two whose faces were slasht and cut: No, says he, I'll have none of you, but if you can bring me those men that gave you those wounds, they are for my turn.