The counter scuffle Whereunto is added The counter rat. Written by R.S.

The counter scuffle Whereunto is added The counter rat. Written by R.S.

Table of contents

Title page

THE COVNTER-SCVFFLE.

§

To the Reader.

THE COVNTER RAT.

A Roaring Rat.

A Croſſe legg'd Rat.

An old gray Rat.

A Black Rat.

A Long Tayl'd Rat.

Good-morrow.

§

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THE Counter Scuffle. Whereunto is added THE Counter Rat.

Written by R. S.

[figure]

LONDON, Printed by R. B. and are to be ſold by Iohn Stafford. 1648.

THE COVNTER-SCVFFLE.

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LEt that Majeſtick pen that writes

Of brave K. Arthur and his Knights,

And of their noble feats and fights:

And thoſe who tell of Mice and Frogges

And of the skirmiſhes of Hogges,

And of fierce Beares, and Maſtive Dogges,

Be ſilent.

And now let each one liſten well,

While I the famous Battell tell,

In Woodſtreet Counter that befell

In high Lent.

In which great Scuffle only twain,

Without much hurt, or being ſlain,

Immortall honour did obtain

By merit,

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One was a Captain in degree,

A ſtrong and luſty man was hee,

T'other a Tradeſ-man bold and free

Of Spirit.

And though he was no man of force,

He had a ſtomack like a Horſe,

And in his rage had no remorſe

Or pitty.

Full nimbly could he cuffe and clout,

And was accounted, without doubt,

One of the prettieſt ſparks about

The City.

And at his weapon any way

He could performe a ſingle fray,

Even from the long pike to the Tay

-lors Bodkin.

He reckt not for his fleſh a jot,

He feard nor Engliſhman nor Scot,

For Man or Monſter, car'd he not

A Dodkin,

For fighting was his recreation,

And like a man in Deſperation,

For Law, Edict, or Proclamation

He car'd not

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And in his Anger (cauſe being given)

To lift his hand' gainſt good Sir Steven,

Or any Iuſtice under Heaven,

He fear'd not.

He durſt his enemy withſtand,

Or at Tergoos or Calis ſand,

And bravely there with ſword in hand

Would greet him.

And noble Ellis was his name,

Who'mongſt his foes to purchaſe fame,

Nor cared though the Devill came

To meet him.

And this brave Goldſmith was the man,

Who firſt this worthy brawle began,

Which after ended in a Can

Of milde Beere.

But had you ſeen him when he fought,

How eagerly for blood he ſought,

Ther's no man but would have him thought

A wilde Beare.

Imagine now you ſee a ſcore

Of madcap Gentlemen, or more,

Boyes that did uſe to royſt and rore,

And ſwagger.

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Among the which were three or foure,

That rul'd themſelves by wiſdoms lore,

Whoſe very Grandſires ſcarcely wore

A dagger.

A Prieſt and Lawyer, men well read,

In wiping poones and chipping bread,

And falling to, ſhort grace being ſed,

Full roundly:

Whoſe hungry mawes no Sallets need

Good appetites therein to breed,

Their ſtomacks without ſauce could feed

Profoundly.

'Twas ill that men of ſober dyet,

Who lov'd to fill their guts in quiet,

Were plac'd with Ruffins that to ryot

were given:

And (O great griefe!) even from their food,

(Their Stomacks too, being ſtrong & good)

And that ſweet place whereon it ſtood,

Be driven.

But here 'tis fitting I repeat,

What food our dainty Priſoners eat;

But if in placing of the meat

And Diſhes,

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From curious order I do ſwerve,

'Tis that themſelves did none obſerve,

For which nor fleſh they did deſerve,

Nor fiſhes.

But ſome (perhaps) will ſay that Lent,

Affords them not what here is ment,

So much, ſo good, and that they went

without it

'Tis like; but if I adde a Diſh,

Or twain, or three, of Fleſh or Fiſh,

They either had, or did it wiſh,

Ne're doubt it.

Then wipe your mouths, while I declare,

The goodneſſe of this Lenten fare,

Which is in Priſon very rare,

I tell ye.

Furmity as ſweet as any Nut.

The Supper.

As good as ever ſwill'd a Gut.

And butter ſweet as e're was put

In belly.

Eggs by the dozen, new and good,

Which in white Salt uprightly ſtood,

And meats which heat and ſtir the blood

To action.

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As butter'd Crabs, and Lobſters red,

Which ſend the married payre to bed,

And in looſe bloods have often bred,

A Faction.

Fiſh butter'd to the Platters brim,

And Parſnips did in Butter ſwim,

Strew'd ore with Pepper neat and trim

Salt Salmon.

Smelts cryde, come eat me, do not ſtay,

Freſh Cod, and Maids full nearly lay,

And next to theſe a luſty Ba

-con Gammon

Stuck thick with Cloves upon the back,

Well ſtuft with Sage, and for the ſmack,

Daintily ſtrew'd with Pepper black,

Sous'd Gurnet,

Pickrell, Sturgeon, Tench, and Trout,

Meat farre too good for ſuch a rout,

To tumble, toſſe, and throw about

And ſpurn it.

The next a Neats-tongue neatly dryde,

Muſtard and Suger by his ſide.

Rochets butter'd, Flounders fryde.

Hot Cuſtard.

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Eeles boyl'd and broyl'd: and next they bring

Herring, that is the Fiſhes King,

And then a Courtly Poll of Ling,

And Muſtard.

But ſtay, I had almoſt forgot

The fleſh which ſtill ſtands piping hot,

Some from the Spit, ſome from the Pot

New taken,

A ſhoulder, and a Leg of Mutton,

As good as ever Knife was put on,

Which never were by a true Glutton

Forſaken,

A Loyne of Veale, that would have dar'd

One of the hungrieſt of the Guard,

And they ſometimes will feed full hard,

Like tall men.

And ſuch as love the Luſty Chine:

But when that I ſhall ſup or dine,

God grant they be no Gueſts of mine,

Of all men.

Thus the Deſcriptions are compleat,

Which I have made of men and meat.

Mars ayd me now, while I repeat

The Battle,

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Where Pots and Stooles were us'd as Gins,

To break each others Heads, and Shins,

Where blowes did make bones in their skins

To rattle.

Where men to madneſſe never ceaſt,

Till each (furious as a Beaſt)

Had ſpoyld the faſhion of a Feaſt,

Full dainty.

Whereon had they not been accurſt,

They might have fed, till bellies burſt:

But Ellis ſhew'd himſelfe the worſt

Of twenty.

For he began this monſtrous brall,

Which afterward incens'd them all,

To throw the meat about the Hall,

That Even.

And now give eare unto the jarre,

That fell between theſe men of warre,

Wherein ſo many a harmleſſe skarre

was given.

The Board thus furniſht, each man ſate,

Some fell to feeding, ſome to prate,

Mong whom a jarring queſtion ſtrait

was riſen.

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For they grew hotly in diſpute,

What Calling was of moſt repute:

Twas well their wits were ſo acute

In priſon.

While they diſcours'd, the Parſon blythe

Parſon.

Fed, as he meant to have the tythe

Of every diſh, being ſharp (as Sythe)

In feeding.

But haſte had almoſt made him choke,

Or elſe perhaps, he would have ſpoke

In prayſe of his long-thred-bare Cloke,

And breeding.

But after a deliberate pauſe,

The Lawyer ſpoke, as he had cauſe,

Lawyer.

In commendation of the Lawes

Profeſſion.

The Law, quoth he, by a juſt doom,

Doth cenſure all that to it come,

And ſtill defends the innocent from

Oppreſſion.

It favours Truth; it curbs the hope

Of Vice; it gives Allegiance ſcope;

Provides a Gallowes and a Rope

For Treaſon.

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This doth the Law, and this is it

Which makes us here in priſon ſit,

Which grounded is on holy Writ

And Reaſon.

To which all men muſt ſubject be,

As we by daily proofe do ſee,

From higheſt to low'ſt degree;

The Scholler,

Noble, and Rich: It doth ſubdue

The Soulidier, and his ſwaggering crue,

But at that word the Captaine grew

In choller.

He lookt full grim, and at firſt word

The Souldier

Rapt out an Oath, that ſhook the board,

And ſtruck his fiſt, that the ſound roar'd

Like thunder.

It made all skip that ſtood him neare,

The frighted Cuſtard quak'd for feare,

And thoſe that heard it, ſtricken were

With wonder.

Nought did he now, but frown and puffe,

And having ſtar'd and ſwore enough,

Thus he began in language rough.

Thou cogging,

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Baſe foyſting Lawyer, that doſt ſet

Thy minde on nothing, but to get

Thy living by thy damned pet

-tifogging.

A Slave, that ſhall for halfe a Crown,

With Buckram bag, and daggled Gown,

Wait like my dogge about the Town,

And follow

A buſineſſe of the Devils part,

For fees, though not with Law nor Art:

But head as empty as thy heart

Is hollow,

You ſtay at home and pocket fees,

While we abroad our bloods do leeſe,

And then, with ſuch baſe termes as theſe

You wrong us.

But Lawyer, it is ſafer farre

For thee to prattle at a Barre,

Than once to ſhew thy face i'th'warre,

Among us,

Where to defend ſuch thankleſſe Hinds,

The Souldier little quiet finds,

But is expos'd to ſtormy winds,

And weathers,

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And oft in blood he wades full deep,

Your throats from forrain ſwords to keep,

And wakes when you ſecurely ſleep

In feathers.

What could your Lawes or Statutes doe,

Againſt Invaſions of the Foe,

Did not the valiant Souldier goe

To quell' em?

And to prevent your further harmes,

With Enſigne, Fife, and loud Alarmes

Of warlike Drum, by force of Armes

Repell' em?

Your Treſpaſſe Action will not ſtand,

For ſetting foot upon your Land,

When they in ſcorn of your Command

Come hither.

No remedy in Courts of Powles,

In Common Pleaes, or in the Rowles,

For joulling of your Iobbernowles

Together.

Wer't not for us, thou Swad, quoth he,

Where would'ſt thou fog to get a fee?

But to defend ſuch things as thee,

'Tis pity.

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For ſuch as thou, eſteem us leaſt,

Who ever have been ready preſt,

To guard you, and the Cuckowes neſt,

Your Ctiy.

That very word made Ellis ſtart,

Citizen

And all his blood ran to his heart,

He ſhook, and quak'd in every part

With anger.

He lookt as if nought might aſſwage

The heat of his enflamed rage,

His very countenance did preſage

Some danger.

A Cuckowes neſt? quoth he: and ſo,

He humm'd, and held his head full low,

As if diſtracted thoughts did o

-verpreſſe him.

At length, quoth he, my Mother ſed,

Ellis a Briſtow man.

At Briſtow ſhe was brought abed,

And there was Ellis born and bred,

God bleſſe him.

Of London City I am free,

And there I firſt my Wife did ſee,

And for that very cauſe, quoth he,

I love it.

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And he that cals it Cuckowes neſt,

Except he ſayes he ſpeaks in jeſt,

He is a villain and a beaſt,

Ile prove it.

This Ile maintain, nor do I care,

Though Captaine Pot-gun ſtamp and ſtare,

And ſwagger, ſweare, and teare his hayre

In fury.

And with the hazard of my blood,

Ile fight up to the knees in mud,

But I will mak my quarrell good,

Aſſure ye.

For though I am a man of Trade,

And free of London City made,

Yet can I uſe Gun, Bill, and Blade

In battle.

And Citizens, if need require,

Themſelves can force the Foe retire,

What ever this Low-Countrey Squire

Do prattle.

For we have Souldiers of our own,

Able enough to guard the Town,

And Captaines of moſt faire renown,

About it,

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If any Foe ſhould fight amain,

And ſet on us with all his Train,

Wee'll make him to retire again,

Nere doubt it.

We have fought well in dangers paſt,

And will do while our lives do laſt,

Without the help of any caſt

Commaders

That hither come, compell'd by want,

With ruſty Swords, and Suits Provant,

From Vtrich, Numigen, or Gant,

In Flanders.

The Captain could no longer hold,

But looking fircely, plainly told

The Citizen, he was too bold,

and call'd him

Proud Boy, and for his ſawcy ſpeech,

Did ſhortly vow to whip his breech:

Then Ellis ſnacht the pot, with which

he mall'd him.

He threw the jugge, and therewithall,

He gave the Captain ſuch a mall,

The Scuffle

As made him thump againſt the wall

his Crupper.

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With that the Captain took a Diſh

That ſtood brim-full of butterd Fiſh,

As good as any heart could wiſh

To ſupper.

And as he threw, his foot did ſlide,

Which turn'd his arme and diſh aſide,

And all be-Butter-fiſhifide

Nic Ballat.

And he, good man, did none diſeaſe,

But ſitting quiet and at eaſe,

With butterd Rochets ſought to pleaſe

His pallat.

But when he felt the wrong he had,

He rag'd, and ſwore, and grew ſtark mad,

Some in the roome been better had

without him;

For he took hold of any thing,

And firſt he caught the poll of Ling,

Which he couragiouſly did fling

about him.

Out of his hand it flew apace,

And hit the Lawyer in the face,

Who at the Board in higheſt place

was ſeated.

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And as the Lawyer thought to riſe,

The Salt was thrown into his eyes,

Which him of ſight in wofull wiſe

Defeated.

All things nere hand, Nic Ballat threw:

At length his butterd Rochets flew:

And hit by chance, among the crew,

The Parſon.

The Sauce his coat did all be-wet,

The Prieſt began to fume and fret,

The Seat was butterd which he ſet

His — on.

He knew not what to do or ſay,

It was in vaine to Preach or pray,

Or cry you are all gone aſtray,

Good people.

He might as well go ſtrive to teach

Divinity beyond his reach

Or when the Bels ring out, go preach

I'th Steeple.

At this miſchance the ſilly man,

Out of the roome would faine have ran,

And very angerly began

To mutter.

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Ill luck had he, for after that

One threw the Parſneps full of fat

Which ſtuck like Brooches in his Hat,

with Butter.

Out of the place he ſoon repaires

And ran halfe headlong down the Staires,

And made complaint to Maſter Ayres

with crying.

Vp ran hee to know the matter,

And found how they the things did ſcatter,

Here a Trencher, there a platter

were lying.

I dare not ſay he ſtunk for wo,

Nor will, unleſſe I did it know,

But ſome there be that dare ſay ſo,

that ſmelt him.

Nor could ye blame him, if he did,

For they threw diſhes at his head,

And did with Egges and Loaves of Bread,

bepelt him.

He thruſt himſelfe into the throng,

And u'sd the vertue of his tongue,

But what could one mans word among

ſo many?

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The Candles all were ſhuffled out,

The Victuals flew afreſh about;

Was never ſuch a Combat fought

by any.

Now in the dark was all the coyle,

Some were bloody in the broyle,

And ſome lay ſteept in Sallet-Oyle

and Muſtard.

The ſight would make a man afeard:

Another had a butterd Beard,

Anothers face was all beſmeard

with Cuſtard.

Others were dawb'd up to the knee

With butterd Fiſh and Furmitee;

And ſome the men could ſcarcely ſee

that beat'em.

Vnder the Board Lluellin lay,

Wil. Llu ellin a priſoner there, ſometime the Keeper.

Being ſore frighted with the fray,

And as the weapons flew that way,

he eat'em.

The bread ſtuck in the windowes all,

Like bullets in a Caſtle wall,

Which furious Foes do ſeek to ſcale

In battle.

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Shoulders of Mutton, and Loynes of Veale,

Appointed for to ſerve the Meale,

About their eares full many a Peale

Did rattle.

The which when Ouen Blany ſpide,

One of the under Keepers.

Oh, take away their Armes he cryde,

Leſt ſome great hurt do them betide,

Prevent it,

And then the Knave away did ſteale,

Of food that fell, no little deale,

And in his houſe at many a meale

He ſpent it.

The Captain ran the reſt among,

As eager to revenge the wrong

Done by the Pot which Ellis flung

So ſtoutly.

And angry Ellis ſought about,

To finde the furious Captain out,

At length they met, and then they fought

Devoutly.

Now being met, they never lin,

Till with their lowd robuſtious din,

The room and all that was therein,

Did tumble.

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Inſtead of Weapons made of ſteele,

The Captain took a ſalted Eele,

And at each blow made Ellis reele,

and tumble.

Ellis a Pippin pie had got,

A forer weapon than the pot:

For lo, the apples being hot,

did ſcald him.

The Captain layd about him ſtill,

As if he would poore Ellis kill,

And with his Eele with a good will

he mall'd him.

At length, quoth he, Ellis thou art

A fellow of couragious heart,

Yeeld now, and I will take thy part

hereafter.

Quoth Ellis, much I ſcorn to heare

Thy words of threats, being free from feare.

With which he hardly could forbeare

from laughter.

Together then afreſh they flie,

The Eele againſt the Pippin Pie:

But Blany ſtood there purpoſely

to watch 'em

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The weapons wherewithall they fought,

Were thoſe, for which he chiefly ſought,

And with an eager ſtomack thought

to catch' em.

But ſcap't not now ſo well away,

As at the Veale and Mutton fray:

He thought to have with ſuch a prey

his jawes fed.

But all his hope did turne aſide,

He lookt for that which luck deny'd;

For Ellis all be-pippin-pyde

his Calves head

Wo was the caſe he now was in,

The Apples hot, did ſcald the skin,

His Skull, as it had rotten bin,

did coddle.

With that one foole among the rout,

Made out-cry all the houſe about,

That Blany's braines were beaten out

his noddle

Which Lockwood hearing needs would ſee,

What all this coyl and ſtirre might be,

A Turnkey a fat fellow.

And up the Staires his Guts and he

Went wadling.

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But when he came the Chamber neere,

Behinde the doore he ſtood to heare,

But in he durſt not come for feare

Of ſwadling.

There ſtood he in a frightfull caſe,

And as by chance he ſtir'd his face,

Full in the mouth a butter'd Playce

Did hit him.

Away he ſneakt, and with his tongue,

He lick'd and ſwallow'd vp the wrong,

And as he went the roome along

Be-him.

For helpe now doth poore Lockwood crie,

O bring a Surgeon, or I die,

My guts out of my belly flye:

Come quickly.

Blany with open mouth likewiſe,

For preſent help of Surgeon cryes,

Pittie a man, quoth he, that lyes

So ſickly,

Philips, the skilfull Surgeon then,

Was cal'd, and cal'd, and cal'd agen,

If he had skill to cure theſe men,

To ſhew it.

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At length he comes, and firſt he puts

His hands, to feel for Lockwoods guts,

Which came not forth ſo ſweet as Nuts,

All know it.

He cries for water. In the mean

One cals up Madge the Kitchin quean,

To take and make the Baby clean,

And clout it.

Faſt by the Noſe ſhe tooke the Squall,

And led him ſoftly through the Hall,

Leſt the perfume through knees ſhould fall

About it.

Shee turn'd his Hoſe beneath the knee,

Nor could ſhee chuſe but laugh to ſee,

That yellow, which was wont to bee

A white breech.

Shee took a Diſh-clout off the Shelfe,

And with it wipt the durtie Elfe,

Which had not wit to helpe it ſelfe

Poore-breech.

Thus leaving Lockwood all be-rai'd,

Vnto the mercie of the Maide,

Who well deſerved to be paid

For taking

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Such homely paines, Now let us eaſt,

Our thoughts backe on the ſtirre that's paſt,

And them whoſe bones could not in haſte

Leave aking.

And like the Candles, ſhall my Pen

Shew you theſe Gallants once agen,

Which now like Furies, not like men

Appeared.

Freſh lights being brought t'appeaſe the bral,

Shew twenty mad men in the Hall,

With Bloud and Sauce their faces all

Beſmeared.

Their Cloathes rent and ſows'd in drinke,

Oyle, Muſtard, Butter, and the ſtinke,

Which Lockwood leſt, would make one thinke

In ſadneſſe,

That theſe ſo monſtrous creatures dwell,

Either in Bedlam, or in Hell,

Or that no tongue, or Pen can tell

Their madneſſe

They were indeed diſfigured ſo,

Friend knew not friend nor foe-man foe,

And each man ſcarce himſelfe did know:

But after

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A frantick ſtaring round about,

They ſuddenly did quit their doubt,

And loudly all at once brak out

In lafter.

The heat of all is now alaid,

The Keepers gently doe perſwade;

And (as before) all friends are made,

Full kindly.

Ellis, the Captaine doth imbrace;

The Captaine doth return the grace,

And ſo doe all men in the place,

As friendly

By Ioue I love thee, Ellis cryd;

The Captaine ſoone as much replyed,

Thou art, quoth he, a man well tryd:

And Vulcan

With Mars at ods againe ſhall be,

E're any iarres twixt thee and me:

And thereupon I drink to thee

A full Can.

And then he kneeld upon the ground.

Drink't off (quoth Ellis) for this round

For ever ſhall be held renownd:

And never

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May any quarrell twixt us twaine

Ariſe, or this renew againe,

But may we loving friends remaine

For ever

Amen, cryde Captaine, ſo did all,

And ſo the health went through the Hall,

And thus the Noble Counter-brall

Was ended.

But hunger now did vexe'em more,

Then all their anger did before:

They ſearcht i'th roome how far their ſtore

Extended.

They want the meat which Blany ſtole,

One finds a Herring in a hole,

With durt and duſt blacke as a coale,

And trodden

All under feet; The next in poſt

Snaps vp, and feeds on vvhat was loſt,

And lookes not whether it be roſt

Or ſodden.

A third finds in another place

A piece of Ling in durtie caſe,

And Muſtard in his fellovves face;

Another

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Eſpies, that finds a loafe of bread:

A diſh of Butter all beſpread.

And ſtuck vpon anothers head

I'th poother.

Thus what they found, contented ſome,

At length the Keeper brings a Broome,

Meaning there with to cleanſe the roome

With ſweeping.

But under Table, on the ground,

Looking to ſweepe, by chance he found

Luellin, faining to be ſound

-ly ſleeping.

He pull'd him out ſo ſwift by the heeles,

As if his arſe had ran on wheeles,

And found his pockets ſtuft with Eeles:

His Cod-piece

Did plenty of proviſion bring,

Somewhat it held of every thing,

Smelts, Flounders, Rochets, and of Ling

A broadpiece.

At this diſcoverie each man round

Tooke equall ſhare of what was found,

Which afterwards they freely drown'd

In good drink.

[Page]

For of good Beere there was good ſtore,

Till all were glad to give it o're,

For each man had enough and more

That would drink.

And when they thus had Drunk and fed,

(As if no quarrell had been bred)

They all ſhook hands and all to bed

Did ſhuffle.

Ellis, the glory of this Towne,

With that brave Captaine of renowne,

And thus I end this famous Coun

-ter Scuffle.

FINIS.

§

[Page]

[figure]

To the Reader.

[Page]

THis Bacchanalian Night-prize of the Counter-Scuffle, being thus finiſhed, hath ever ſince frighted hoth Priſoners and Iaylors from comming into any roome, for feare of a ſecond uproare. So that the Counter, for want of ſweet garniſhing, and cleanly looking to, is grown ſo naſty, that no man (by his good will) will thruſt his noſe in at any of the grates: Nay, will rather goe a mile about, than come neare it; Though to keep it ſweet, a great deale of Mace is ſtuck upon every Sergeant, as if he were a Copon in white-broth.

Vpon this ſlovenlineſſe, it is wofully haunted with Rats, not ſuch Rats as runne up and downe in Brew-bouſes, ſucking the new wort of ſtrong [Page] Beere ſo long, and in ſuch abundance, that halfe the City is compelled to drink Beere as ſmall as water; Nor thoſe Rats which are not mealy mouth'd in Bake-houſes, where they gnaw ſo many batches of Bread, that a Penny loafe wants ſometimes three or foure ounces in waight: And then the honeſt Baker is blam'd, and curs'd, and (perhaps) innocently ſet in the Pillory.

Neither are they thoſe Rats, which greaze their throats in Tallow-Chandlers ſhops, where they nibble ſo much upon Candles, that not one pound in an hundred is ever full waight.

No, theſe are no Rats with foure legs, but only two; and though they have neſts in a thouſand places of London, yet for the moſt part they run but into two Rot-traps, that is to ſay, The Counters of Wood-ſtreet and the Poultry, and for that cauſe are called Counter-Rats.

How caught, how mouz'd, and what they are,

This picture lively doth declare.

THE COVNTER RAT.

[Page]

OF Knights and Squires of low degree,

Of Roaring Boyes, that ſtick and ſnee,

Of Battoon Dam-mees, that cry Bree,

I ſing now,

At men and women, (Bawds and whores)

At Pimps and Panders that keep doores,

I mean no Play-doores: Thoſe are too honeſt.

At all that out-face Vintners ſcores,

I fling now.

What fling I? Nothing, but light rimes,

(Not tun'd as are St. Pulchers chimes)

No ſteeples heigth my Muſe now climbes,

But flyeth.

Cloſe to the ground as Swallowes do,

When rainy weather muſt enſue,

She flies, and ſings, and if not true,

She lyeth.

[Page]

Lay (

The Kings Iuggler.

Hocus Pocus) thy tricks by,

Let Martin Parkers Ballads die,

Thy theaming likewiſe I defie;

O Fenner.

Let Hogſdon-Scrapers on their Baſe

Sound Fum-fum-fum from totterd caſe,

Nor Meane, nor Treble now take place,

But Tennor;

A Counter-Tennor is that note,

Too eaſie,—'tis nere ſung by rote,

But got with wetting well your throat

With Claret.

Or ſtout March-beere, or Windſor Ale,

Or Labour in vaine, (ſo ſeldome ſtale,)

Or Pymlico, whoſe too great ſale

Did marre it:

He that me reads, ſhall fall out flat

With Homers Frog, and Virgils Gnat,

And Ovids Flea, which ſo neare ſat

The Moone ſhine.

For I of ſtranger wonders write,

Of a wilde Vermin got each night,

Mad Buls i'th dark, but guls in ſight,

Of Sun-ſhine.

[Page]

My Metamorphoſis is rare,

For Men to Rats transformed are,

And then, thoſe Rats are Priſoners fare,

O pitty!

But tis good ſport to ſee them dreſt,

To garniſh out a Mornings Feaſt,

Each bit being ſalted with a jeſt

Scarce witty:

Theſe are not Rats that nibble cheeſe,

Or challenge mouldy cruſts for fees,

And rather will their long tayles leeſe

Than Bacon:

No, theſe are they, whoſe guts being cram'd,

(As Canons hard with powder ram'd)

And Bag-pipe cheekes with wines inflam'd,

Are taken

By Conſtables and Bill-men eke,

Who ſpeak not Latine, French, nor Greek,

But are Night-Sconces out to ſeek

Night-ſneakers,

Who late in Taverns up do ſit,

Whiffing ſmoke, Money, Time, and wit.

Pouring in Boules, till out they ſpit Full Beakers.

[Page]

Theſe (then) being to the Counter led.

Each Priſoner ſhakes his ſhaggie head,

And leaning halfe out of his bed,

A laughing

Fals,—And cries out—A Rat—A Rat,

Oh! roares another,—Is he fat?

If not,—Fley off his cloak or hat;

Thus ſcoffing,

Till Morne they lye.—The poore Rat gets

Into ſome hole.—Beſides his wits,

To heare ſuch cater walling fits,

So fright him:

But day being riſe,—All up do riſe,

And call for Beere to cleare his eyes,

A Garniſh then the whole Roome cryes,

They bite him,

Aske any how ſuch newes I tell,

Of Wood-ſtreets hole or Poultries hell?

Know, I did' mongſt thoſe Gypſies dwell,

That cozen there.

I mean the Turn keys, and thoſe Knaves,

Who rack, for fees, men worſe then ſlaves,

I ſaw brought in with bils and glaves,

Some dozen there.

[Page]

For I one night by Rug-gownes caught,

Was for a Rat to th' Counter brought,

What there my deere experience bought,

Ile ſell yee

Cheaper, than I could have it there,

For they for Tokens throats will teare,

But ſuch as 'tis, fill with the Cheere

Your belly.

Prick up your eares,—for I begin

To tell, what Rats, my night, came in,

Caught without Cat, or Trap, or Ginne,

But mildly,

Being call'd before the Bench of wits

Who ſit out midnights Bedlam fits;

But ſome being rid, like Iades with Bits,

Ran wildly.

Firſt, about twelve, the Counter gates

Thundred with thumpings,—Dores & grates

Reel'd at the peale,—when our priſon-mates

Vp ſtarting,

Saw in the yard a frantick Swarm,

Crying, O my head, neck, ſides, leg, arme,

Sore had the fight been, but ſmall harme

At parting,

[Page]

It was a watch, ſwearing we bleed,

But 'twas their noſes dropt indeed;

Maſters (quoth they) we charge ye take heed

Of him there.

A Roaring Rat.

THat Royſter, us to our trumps has put,

And run our Beadle through a gut,

His Bilbo has from each man cut

A limb here.

They gone, Vp comes the Bredah-Bouncer,

His tusks ſtiffe-ſtarcht like a brave Mounſer,

Of Turnbull-Puncks a ſtaring Trouncer,

Some knew him;

Why, here (quoth we) why? zounds becauſe

I tugg'd with beares, and par'd their pawes,

But ſure I mall'd Mr Conſtables Iawes,

O ſlew him;

All's one,—ſayd one, Pleaſe you to bed Sir;

He (ſwearing) roar'd, I'm better bred Sir,

I ſcorn to rock my Harneſſe-Head Sir,

In feathers;

[Page]

Give me a Brick, Sir, for my bolſter,

An Armourer ſtill is my Vpholſter,

In froſt, ſnow, muck-hils I can roll Sir,

Hang weathers.

Rogue, fetch me a ſweet truſſe of ſtraw,

To fire thy Iayle,—Pox a this Law,

That coopes a Souldier like ſack Daw,

I'ſt treaſon?

Raſcall! more Claret, There's none here Sir,

Why then (you mangy Cur) ſome beere Sir,

There's not a Tapſter dares come neere Sir▪

Thy reaſon?

Becauſe you thwack out ſuch huge words Sir,

His wezand fears them worſe than ſwords Sir

Mum then,—Ile take a nap o'th boords Sir.

He ſleepes there.

A Croſſe legg'd Rat.

A Puritan Taylor then came in,

Who (to take meaſure) out had bin,

And (Maudlin-drunk) to rince his ſin,

He weeps there.

[Page]

Weepes to be call'd a Rat, being known

A man at leaſt,—ſo down being thrown,

On a hard Bench, thus did he groan

In ſorrow;

Brethren where am I? One reply'd,

In Wood-ſtreet Counter.—O my pride!

Thou art tane down, and I muſt hide

Too morrow

A head that was not hid before,

Wo worth him makes Manaſſes roare,

But die I may not in his ſcore,

Beleeve me,

For conſolation I eſpy

Th'row my ſweet Spaniſh needles eye,

The Siſters will (if here I lie)

Releeve me,

Siſters i'th' Counter! oh no: here

Only the wicked ones appeare,

Waſh then thy ſhame in briniſh teares,

Confeſſing.

Th'art rightly puniſht for thy Yard,

And for thy Gooſe which graz'd too hard,

And for ſome Stuffes which thou haſt marr'd

With preſſing.

[Page]

We ask'd him, why he was brought in,

Black threds of vice (quoth he) I ſpin,

And then agen did thus begin,

Condoling,

All are not Friers, I ſee, weare Cowles,

Nor all in minc'd ruffes, milk-white ſoules,

I ſhould have talk'd thus when the bowles

Were trolling:

But then, to ſteale I held no harm,

Lappets of drink to keep me warm,

But linings wet, hurt, though they arm,

Indeed-la

O would my ſheeres might cut my thred,

Why is this croſſe-legg'd miſchiefe bred?

Mending my want from heele to head

With ſpeed-la.

Sorrow has made me dry,—No matter,

Out of mine eyes will I drink water,

No other Ram my braines ſhall batter,

To kill me,

Roofe, touch no more wines, French or Spaniſh,

All drinks Papiſticall I baniſh,

Out of my lips this phraſe ſhall vaniſh

Boy,—Fill me.

[Page]

One bid him call for beere,—he ſed,

Oh! No more beere.—But reach me bread,

By that lle ſweare—Would I were dead,

And rotten.

When I agen ſwill ought but whay,

Yet leſt (being cold) my zeale decay,

Hot waters ſhall not be one day

Forgotten.

An old gray Rat.

THis done, he nods, and quickly ſnores;

And then afreſh wind flie the doores,

An Vſurer hedg'd in with mad Whores,

Came wallowing,

As does a great ſhip on the Seas,

Set on by Gallies,—for, all theſe

Were Fiſh-wives, who had wine at eaſe

Been ſwallowing,

And blown him up with penny-pots

Of Sack, which fall to him by lots,

Payd him at weeks end by th'old Trots,

For ſhillings

[Page]

Each Monday lent them,—To buy Skate

Crabs, Plaice, and Sprats at Bill inſgate

Thus, then they met, and hold thus late

Their drillings.

He reſts in peace,—but is not dead,

Yet is wormes meat in lowzie bed,

And lies like one wrapt up in led,

None ſtirr'd him,

But all his Oyſter-mouthes gap'd wide,

(Wine in their guts was at full Tide)

The Devill did ſo their Rumps beſtride,

And ſpurr'd them:

They flung & winc'd, & kick'd down ſtaires

Themſelves, and ſtampt like Flanders Mares,

Hell is broke looſe, No Keeper dares

Approach them;

For, at that Dogge (beſawc'd in Sack)

They grinde their teeth, and curſe him black,

Crying out, 'Tis thee does break their back,

And broach them

So faſt, that all their gaines boyle out,

Deep-red to dye his pockie ſnout,

But, that which flung theſe brands about

So hotly,

[Page]

'Gan now to quench them, ſleep does ſound

Retreat, dead-drunk they all lie drown'd

In caſt-up wine,—and on the ground

The ſhot lie.

A Black Rat.

SCarce was this helliſh dinne allayd,

But drencht in mire, with drink berayd,

(New curried) was brought in a jade

All mettle,

An Eſtridge that iron barres could eat,

And Strong-beere out of Sea-coales beat,

His fifty-cuffes did the Watch fret

And nettle;

This ſecond Smug, who had the ſtaggers,

This Vulcaniſt, whoſe nayles were daggers,

This Smith ſo arm'd in Ale, he ſwaggers,

At ſnoring,

Though lockt up, yet ſet up his trade,

Bolts, Hinges, Barres, and Grates he made

Fly,—which being heard, the Iaylors payd

His roaring.

[Page]

They furniſh't him with iron enough.

Neck, hands, and leggs had armour tough,

And ſtronger (but more cold) than Buffe,

To guard him.

How did they this? none durſt come neer him

Like Tom of Bedlam did they feare,

All bringing Cans, to pledge them, ſwear him,

So ſnar'd him,

Yet, for all this, he danc'd in's ſhackles,

And cry'd, t'other Pot, I want more tackles,

And thus (till break of day) it cackles,

Layd having

The addle Egge of his turn'd braines,

In his iron neſt of ruſty chaines,

Which made him loſe both ſenſe of paines,

And raving.

A Long Tayl'd Rat.

THe next that in our little Eaſe,

Came to be bit with Lice and Fleas,

Was a ſpruce Knave, like none of theſe,

But ſober,

[Page]

As the Strand May-pole,—he did go,

In ruffe,—His thumb th'row ring did ſhow

A Gentleman ſeal'd,—for he was no

Hog-grubber:

It was a Petty-fogging Varlet,

Whoſe back wore freez, but bum no ſcarlet,

And was tane napping with his Harlot,

At noddy:

But being hal'd in, his haire he rent;

And ſwore they all ſhould deare repent

Their baſeneſſe,—for no ill he meant

To her body:

The Priſoners ask't then what ſhe was,

(Quoth he) My Client,—One well to paſſe,

Though here they impound me like an Aſſe,

Ile ferk them.

Ile make the Beadle pluck in's horne,

He flirted at my noſe in ſcorne,

The Watch ſhall ſtink, the Conſtable mourn,

Ile jerk them,

Hang them (if need be) for they broke

Her houſe,—That's Burglary,—The clock

Scarce counting two,—Then they ſtruck

Ath'mazzard.

[Page]

An action of ſtrong Battery! Good!

They made my Noſe then guſh bloud;

(One more!)—And that I miſt the mud

was hazzard.

Here's Law in lumps:—Muſt, when to trial

My Client comes, I have denyal

For ingreſs to her, by Scabs? A Ryal

I enter

At Midnight,—a plain Caſe,—elſe Ployden

The Caſe is altred:—ſhall each Hoyden

Bar Law her courſe? Dare ruſtick Royden

ſo venture?

A farthing-candle burning by,

By chance his railing rage did die,

Yet to his Breſt, Revenge did cry:

ſo churning

His brains for Law-tricks how to ſting them,

And up to all the Bars to bring them,

He ſat, hard-twiſting cords to wring them,

till morning.

No more of this light skipping Verſe;

A dreery Table I now rehearſe.

[Page]

LOng this brown ſtudy did not laſt,

But in, at Compter-gates as faſt

Throng'd in the Watch again. A noiſe

Of ſcraping men and ſqueaking boys

Straight fill'd the houſe. The Two-pennyward

Leap'd up and fell a dancing hard:

Out at the Hole, all thruſt their heads;

The Knights Ward left their ſeven-groatbeds:

The Maſters ſide hearing the din

Swore that the Devil was ſure brought in:

But when they heard they Fidlers were;

Some curs'd the noiſe, ſome lent an ear:

None curs'd, but what went drunk to bed,

Being then for want of drink half dead.

Lock't were the Fidlers in a Room;

All cry'd, Strike up, Play Rogues, Fum fum.

The Minnikin tickled, roar did the Baſe;

Then bawdy ſongs, all ſleep muſt chaſe;

The men play'd heavily, boys did whine,

Not ſeeing Meat, Mony, Beer, nor Wine:

Up ſuch a laugh the Priſoners took,

That the Beds danc'd, and Chambers ſhook;

Nay, the ſtrange hubbub did ſo pleaſe,

At Priſon-bace ran both Lice and Fleas.

[Page] The Rozzen rub'd off, the Cats guts weary,

VVe ask'd, how they who made men merry

Grew ſad themſelves, and why (like ſprites)

Fidlers being ſtrung to walk anights,

VVere they lock'd up?—One then, i th eye

Putting his finger, told us why.

Quoth he, being met by a mad Crew,

In theſe poor caſes—up they drew

Our Fiddles, and like Tinkers ſwore

VVe ſhould play them to the Blue-Bore,

Kept by mad Ralf at Iſlington,

VVhoſe Hum and Mum, being power'd upon

Our guts,—ſo burnt'em, we deſir'd

To part;—being out o'th' houſe e'en fir'd:

As our hands play'd, our heads were plyed;

And, tho the night was cold, we fryed;

For ſuch hot waters ſod our brain,

Like Daws in June, we gap'd for rain:

Strong were our Coxcombs, our legs weak;

VVe, nor our Fiddles had wit to ſpeak.

The company then being faſt aſleep,

And we paid ſoundly, out did creep

Into the high-way—O ſweet Moon!

We, but for thee, had been undone:

[Page] Yet, though thy torch to us was ſighted,

VVe all might well have been indited

For breaking into others ground,

Three in one ditch being almoſt drown'd;

Yet out ſcrambled, and along

The Play-houſe came,—where ſeeing no throng,

We ſwore 'twas ſure ſome ſcurvy Play,

That all the people ſo ſneak'd away;

And ſo the Players deſcended were

To th' Star, Nags-head, or Chriſtopher.

To all thoſe Taverns (we cry'd) Let's go,

At which one fell, and then ſwore—No.

The Bars in Smith-field well we paſt,

For all the Watch had run in haſte,

Arm'd with chalk'd Bills, wak'd by a cry

Of Whore-dorps tane by th' enemy.

From Cow-Croſs ſtood thoſe ſtoves not far,

In which were entred men of war;

(Low-Country Souldiers late come o're)

Each one going in to preſs a whore.

Leaving them preſſing, on we trot

Through the Horſe-fair, till we had got

Into the middle of Long-lane,

Where up the Devil doth Brokers train.

[Page] There down we fell, and then fell out,

Our leathern Caſes flew about:

VVe fenc'd, and foyn'd, and fought ſo long,

That all our Fiddles lay half unſtrung;

Their backs were broke, & we o'th'ground,

Swouning for grief they did not ſound:

Our noiſe brought up from Alderſgate

The rugged Watch, who before ſate

Nodding at the old Mermaids dore;

VVho with a guard of half a ſcore

Seiz'd us, and cry'd, at going away,

Sad Lachrymae you there ſhall play.

This told, the Priſoners laught out-right;

And though the whole Ward had no light,

Yet from their beds all skipt and cry,

Scrapers, ſtrike up, we the VVatch deſie.

The Moon ſo bold was to look in,

And ſaw ſome onely in their skin,

(Naked as Cuckowes when June's paſt)

Some had long ſhirts down to their waſte;

Some wanted back-parts, ſome an Arm;

None vvore a ſhirt could keep him vvarm:

A French Boy that ſvveeps Chimnies, vvears

His patch'd-up frock as vvhite as theirs:

[Page] Some on their heads no night-caps wore,

Some lapp'd their brows in hoſe all tore:

They hobble about, they frisk, they ſing

So long, that crackt was every ſtring,

By their rude horſe-play altogether,

Flinging their legs they car'd not whither.

Such horrid noiſe, ſuch ſtinking ſmell

Cannot be heard nor felt in hell:

Yet o'er they gave not, till the Sun

Aroſe, then all to bed did run.

Good-morrow.

THe Rats into the Trap that fell

That night, were few—The Conſtable

Belike did wink, and would not ſee;

For, when the winds riſe, his watch and he

Toſs all that venture on their waves;

The rocks being brown-bills, Clubs & ſtaves

On which they ſplit them—Theſe and they

When morning comes are fetch'd away:

Thoſe Rats o'er night whoſe ſhapes did leeſe,

Being ſoon turn'd men, by paying but fees;

Yet ſome loſe tail, ſome are ſeratcht bare,

Whilſt Conſtables and Counters ſhare.

FINIS.

[Page]

Information about this book

Title statement

The counter scuffle Whereunto is added The counter rat. Written by R.S.

R. S. (Robert Speed)

Edition statement

1648

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2006-06 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A61061

ID [STC]

Wing S4890B

ID [STC]

ESTC R221749

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99833011

ID [PROQUEST]

99833011

ID [VID]

37486

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This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A61061)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 37486)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 2062:7)

Source

— The counter scuffle Whereunto is added The counter rat. Written by R.S., R. S. (Robert Speed).

Extent

[54] p. : ill.

printed by R.B. and are to be sold by Iohn Stafford,. London :: 1648.. (Signatures: A-G⁴.) (Ascribed to Robert Speed. Cf. BM, Halkett & Laing, Allibone.) (In verse.) (The last leaf is blank.) (Imperfect; pages are stained and have print show-through affecting legibility.) (Reproduction of the original in the British Library.)

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Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.

Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.

Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.

The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.