The little Barly-Corne.73
Reading edition
The little Barly-Corne.73
Whose Properties and Vertues here, Shall plainly to the world appeare, And make you merry all the yeere.
To the tune of Stingo
[55.]Come, and doe not musing stand, if thou the truth discerne, But take a full cup in thy hand, and thus begin to learne, Not of the earth, nor of the ayre, at evening or at morne, But, joviale boyes, your Christmas keep with the little Barly-Corne.
It is the cunningst Alchymist, that ere was in the Land, Twill change your Mettle when it list in turning of a hand, Your blushing Gold to Silver wan, your Silver into Brasse, Twill turn a Taylor to a man and a man into an ass—
Twill make a poore man rich to hang
a signe before his doore,
And those that doe the Pitcher hang,
tho rich, twill make them poore;
Twill make the stoutest Lubber weak,
this little Barley Corne.
or Hocus Pocus too,
It will good fellowes shew more sport
Twill play you faire above the boord,
unless you take good heed,
And fell you though you were a Lord,
and iustifie the deed.
It lends more yeeres unto old Age, than ere was lent by Nature, It makes the Poet's fancy rage, more than Castalian water; Twill make a Huntsman chase a Fox, and never winde his Horn, Twill cheere a Tinker in the stockes, this little Barly-Corne.
It is the only Will o' th' wispe which leades men from the way, Twill make the tongue ti'd Lawyer lisp and naught but (hic-up) say. Twill make the Steward droope and stoop his Bils he then will scorne, And at each post cast his reckning up, this little Barly-Corne.
Twill make a man grow jealous soone, whose pretty Wife goes trim, And raile at the deceiving Moone for making hornes at him: Twill make the Maidens trimly dance, and take it in no scorne, And helpe them to a friend by chance; this little Barly-Corne.
It is the neatest Serving man to entertaine a friend, It will doe more than money can, all iarring suits to end: There's life in it, and it is here, 'tis here within this Cup, Then take your liquor; doe not spare, but cleare carouse it up.
If sicknesse Come, this Physick take it from your heart will set it, If feare incroach, take more of it, your heart will soon forget it: Apollo and the Muses nine, doe take it in no scorne, There's no such stuffe to passe the time, as the little Barly-Corne.
Twill make a weeping Widdow laugh, and some incline to pleasure; Twill make an old man leave his staffe and dance a youthfull measure: And though your clothes be nere so bad, all ragged, rent, and torne, Against the Cold you may be clad with the little Barly Corne.
Twill make a Coward not to shrinke, but be as stout as may be, Twill make a man that he shall thinke. that Jone's as good as my Lady: It will inrich the palest face, and with Rubies it adorne, Yet you shall thinke it no disgrace, this little Barly Corne.
Twill make your Gossips merry, when they their liquor see, Hey, we shall nere be weary, sweet Gossip, here's to thee: Twill make the Country Yeoman the Courtier for to scorne, And talk of Law suits ore a Can, with this little Barly Corne.
It makes a man that write cannot to make you large Indentures, When as he reeleth home at night, upon the watch he ventures: He cares not for the Candle light that shineth in the horne, Yet he will stumble the way aright, this little Barly-Corne.
Twill make a Miser prodigall, and shew himselfe kind hearted Twill make him never grieve at all, that from his Coyne hath parted: Twill make a Shepheard to mistake his Sheepe before a storme: Twill make the Poet to excell, this little Barly-Corne.
It will make young Lads to call most freely for their Liquor, Twill make a young Lass take a fall, and rise againe the quicker: Twill make a man that he shall sleepe all night profoundly, And make a man what ere he be goe about his businesse roundly.
Thus the Barly-Corne hath power even for to change our nature, And make a Shrew within an houre, prove a kind-hearted creature: And therefore here I say againe let no man tak't in scorne, That I the vertues doe proclaim of the little Barly-Corne.
Printed in London for E. B.
The Tanner and the Butcher's dogge.
[52.] A Country Tanner that was runing hastily through Eastcheape and having a long Pike-Staffe on his shoulder, one of the Butchers dogs caught him by the breech. The fellow got loose, and ranne his pike into the Dogs throat, and killed him. The Butcher seeing that his Dog was kill'd tooke hold of the Tanner, and carried him before the Deputy, who asked him, What reason he had to kill the dogge? For mine owne defence (quoth the Tanner). Why, quoth the Deputy, hast thou no other defence but present death? Sir, quoth the Tanner, London fashions are not like the Countries, for here the stones are fast in the streets, and the Dogs are loose, but in the Country, the dogs are fast tied, and the stones are loose to throw at them; and what should a man do in this extremity, but use his staffe for his own defence? Marry (quoth the Deputy) if a man will needs use his staffe, he might use his blunt end, and not the sharp pike. True, Master Deputy, quoth the Tanner, but you must consider, if the Dog had used his blunt end, and runne his taile at me, then had there good reason for me to do the like; but I vow Master Deputy, the Dogge came sharpe at me, and fastned his teeth in my breech, and I again ranne sharp at him, and thrust my pike into his belly. By my faith a crafty knave, quoth the Deputy, if you will both stand to my verdict, send for a quart of wine, be friends, and so you are both discharged.
Cede majoribus.
[5.]I took the wall, one rudely thrust me by, And told me the high way did open lye, I thankt him that he would mee so much grace, To take the worse and leave the better place. For if by owners we esteem of things The wall's the subject's, but the way the King's.
[32.] What is the most profitable beast, and that men eat least on? Solution. It is a Bee, for it maketh both hony and wax, and yet costeth his master nothing the keeping.
[12.]Mr. Button being dead, He was so fat, one said That his Grave was three foot o're; Why, you talk like a Fool, 'Tis but a Button-hole To Graves I have made before.
Purecraft. Now the blaze of the beauteous discipline, fright away this evill from our house! how now Win the fight, Child: how do you? Sweet child, speake to me.
Win. Yes forsooth.
Pure. Looke up, sweet Win the fight, and suffer not the enemy to enter you at this doore, remember that your education has bin with the purest; what polluted one was it, that nam'd first the uncleane beast, Pigge, to you, Child?
Win. Uh, uh.
John. Not I, o' my sincerity, mother; she long'd above three houres, ere she would let me know it; who was it Win?
Win. A prophane blacke thing with a beard, John.
Pure. O! resist it, Win the fight, it is the Tempter, the wicked Tempter, you may know it by the fleshly motion of Pig; be strong against it, and its foule temptations, in these assaults, whereby it broacheth flesh and blood, as it were, on the weaker side, and pray against its carnall provocations, good child, sweet child, pray.
John. Good mother, I pray you, that she may eate some Pigge, and her bellyfull too; and doe not you cast away your owne child, and perhaps one of mine, with your tale of the Tempter: how doe you, Win? Are you not sicke?
Win. Yes, a great deale John (uh, uh).
Pure. What shall we doe? call our zealous brother Busy hither, for his faithfull fortification in this charge of the adversary; childe, my dear childe, you shall eate Pigge; be comforted, my sweet childe.
Pure. I meane i' the Fayre, if it can be any way made, or found lawfull; where is our brother Busy? Will hee not come? looke up, Child.
John. Presently, mother, as soone as he has cleans'd his beard. I found him fast by the teeth, i' the cold Turkey pye, i' th' cupbord, with a great white loafe on his left hand, and a glasse of Malmesey on his right.
Pure. Slander not the Brethren wicked one.
John. Here hee is, now, purified, Mother.
Pure. O brother Busy! your helpe heere to edifie, and raise us up in a Scruple, my daughter Win the fight is visited with a naturall disease of women; call'd A longing to eate Pigge.
Pure. And I would be satisfied from you, Religiously-wise, whether a widdow of the sanctified assembly, or a widdowes daughter, may commit the act, without offence to the weaker sisters.
Busy. Verily, for the disease of longing, it is a disease, a carnall disease, or appetite, incident to women: and as it is carnall, and incident, it is naturall, very naturall: Now Pigge, it is a meat, and a meat that is nourishing, and may be long'd for, and so consequently eaten; it may be eaten; very exceeding well eaten; but in the Fayre, and as a Bartholomew-pig it can not be eaten, for the very calling it a Bartholomew-pigge, and to eate it so, is a spice of Idolatry, and you make the Fayre no better than one of the high Places. This, I take it is the state of the question. A high place.
John. I, but in a state of necessity, Place should give place Mr Busy. (I have a conceit left, yet)
Pure. Good brother Zeale of the land, thinke to make it as lawfull as you can.
John. Yes, Sir, and as soone as you can; for it must be, Sir; you see the danger my little wife is in Sir.
Pure. Truely, I doe love my child dearely, and I would not have her miscarry or hazard her first fruites if it might be otherwise.
Busy. Surely, it may be otherwise, but it is subject to construction, subject, and hath a face of offence, with the weake, a great face, a foule face, but that face may have a vaile put over it and be shaddowed, as it were, it may be eaten, and in the Fayre, I take it, in a Booth, the tents of the wicked: the place is not much, not very much, we may be religious in midst of the prophane, so it be eaten with a reformed mouth, with Sobriety, and humblenesse; not gorg'd in with gluttony, or greedinesse; there's the feare: for should she goe there, as taking pride in the place, or delight in the uncleane dressing, to feed the vanity of the eye, or the lust of the palat, it were not well, it were not fit, it were abominable, and not good.
John. Nay, I knew that afore, and told her on't, but courage, Win, we'll be humble enough; we'll seek out the homeliest Booth i' the Fayre, that's certaine; rather than faile, wee'll eate it o' the ground.
......
Busy. In the way of comfort to the weake, I will goe, and eat. I will eate exceedingly, and prophesie; there may be a good use made of it, too, now I thinke on't; by the publike eating of Swines flesh, to professe our hate, and loathing of Iudaisme, whereof the brethren stand taxed; I will therefore eate, yea, I will eate exceedingly.
"Through Banbury I passed, O profane one, And there I saw a Puritane one Hanging of his Cat on Monday For killing of a Rat on Sunday."
Why women weare a fall.
[5.]A question 'tis why women weare a fall, The truth it is to pride they are given all, And pride the proverbe saies must have a fall.
[12.]A Gentleman did say On the last Twelf-day, That Cheese digests ev'ry thing; Y'are dispos'd to jest, And will ne're be at rest, But at all will have a fling. I'le say't o're agen Nay, before any Men, That it causes a good digestion; You'l jest on still, Let me say what I will, Though you ne're are askt the Question.
[17.] Two Widdows sitting by the fire, were chatting together of their dead Husbands; and one said, come, let us have another candle, for my poor Husband lov'd light, God send him Light ever lasting; and says the other; My poor Husband lov'd a good fire, I wish him Fire everlasting.
[26.] A Young Country Fellow went a Wooing to a Country Lass, and he had on then a speck and Span new Suit with Silver Buttons also; and in all his Discourse with her, he used all the Art he could, to have her take notice of his Buttons; at last when he saw she would take no Notice of them at all: Well, says he, these Silver Buttons keep me so warm: Yes, says she, you had best lie in them all night, lest you should take cold this frosty weather.