Humour, Wit, & Satire of the Seventeenth Century

Dead and Alive.

John Ashton

This Ditty out of Gloucestershire was sent,

To London, for to have it put in Print;

Therefore draw near, and listen unto this,

It doth concern a Man that did Amiss;

And so to shun the Anger of his Wife,

He thought with Poyson for to end his Life,

But instead of Poyson he drank Sack,

For which his Wife did soundly pay's back—

To the Tune of Old Flesh &c.—

[114.]There was a shaving Royster,

as I heard many tell,

In Michal-Danes fair forest,

in Gloucestershire did dwell;

Some call'd him William Wiseman,

but in that they were to blame,

Some call'd him Leonard Lackwit,

but that was not his name;

His name was Simple Simon,

as it is well approv'd,

And among his Friends and Kinsfolks,

he dearly was belov'd:

He capor'd and he vapour'd

and he liv'd a merry life,

But yet, good Man, at all times,

he could not rule his Wife.

Simple Simon

His Wife she was a Woman,

that lov'd a cup of Sack,

And she would tipple soundly,

behind her Husband's back;

A bottle she had gotten that

would hold two quarts or more,

Well fill'd with wine she hang'd it

behind her chamber door:

And she told unto her Husband

that it was poyson strong,

And bad him not to touch it,

for fear of doing wrong:

If thou drink but one drop on't,

(quoth she) 'twill end thy life;

Therefore in time take heed,

and be ruled by thy Wife.

This Simon's wife had plenty

of fatting hogs and pigs,

With geese, ducks, hens, and turkies,

that laid great store of eggs:

Both Sheep and such like cattel,

fine ews and pritty lambs,

Which up and down the forrest

did feed, and suck their dams;

She put trust to her Husband

to look unto them all,

To keep them safe from danger;

now mark what did befal:

He did his best endeavour

to shun all sorts of strife,

And yet through strange misfortune

he could not please his Wife.

One morning she sent him

to field to keep her sheep,

And charg'd him to be watchful,

and take heed he did not sleep:

A piece of bread and butter

she gave him in his hand,

Whereby she made him promise

to do as she did command.

But see what happened to him,

when he came to the field,

He fell asleep, while foxes

three of his lambs had killed:

This bred a great dissention

and rais'd a world of strife,

Till Simon for his fault

had beg'd pardon of his Wife.

Another day she sent him

her ducks and geese to tend,

And charg'd him on her blessing,

he should no more offend:

Her goslins and her chickens

with him she put in trust,

Who took a stick and told them,

for they were twenty just:

But a woful chance befel to

poor Simon before night,

For seven of his chickens

were took prisoners by the kite:

This vexed him, and it made him

half weary of his life,

For he knew not what answer

to make unto his Wife.

Next morning when that Simon

was sent to milk the cow,

Another strange mishap there was

done to him by the sow;

For whilst that he was driving

the little pigs away,

The sow came into the dairy-house

and swill'd up all the whey;

The cheese out of the cheese fat

she did both tear and hawl,

And so threw down the cream-pot,

and made an end of all:

Wherewith she burst her belly,

and so she lost her life,

And poor Simon knew not what answer

to make unto his wife.

When's Wife came in the dairy-house,

and saw what there was done,

A strong and fierce encounter

she presently begun;

She pull'd him by the ears,

and she wrung him by the nose,

And she kickt him on the belly,

while the tears ran down his hose.

And she vow'd to be revenged

before the morrow day,

For all the brood of chickens,

which the kite had carried away:

Poor Simon stood amazed,

being weary of his life,

For he good Man was tired

with his unruly Wife.

For when that he perceived

his Wife in such a rage,

Nor knowing how, nor which way

his fury to asswage:

He cunningly got from her,

and to the chamber went,

Thinking himself to poyson,

for that was his intent;

So coming to the bottle,

which I spoke of before,

He thought it to be poyson,

which hung behind the door:

He vow'd to drink it all up,

and end his wretched life,

Rather than live in thraldom,

with such a cursed Wife.

So opening of a window, which

stood towards the South,

He took the bottle of sack,

and set it to his mouth:

Now will I drink this poyson,

(quoth he) with all my heart;

So that the first draught he drunk on't

he swallowed near a quart:

The second time that he set

the bottle to his snout,

He never left off swigging,

till he had suckt all out:

Which done, he fell down backward

like one bereft of life,

Crying out, I now am poysoned

by means of my cursed Wife.

Quoth he, I feel the poyson

now run through every vein,

It rumbles in my belly,

and it tickles in my brain;

It wambles in my stomack,

and it molifies my heart,

It pierceth through my members,

and yet I feel no smart;

Would all that have curst wives,

example take hereby,

For I dye as sweet a death sure,

as ever man did dye:

'Tis better with such poyson,

to end a wretched life,

Than to live, and be tormented

with such a wicked Wife.

Now see what followed after,

his Wife by chance did walk,

And coming by the window,

she heard her Simon talk;

And thinking on her bottle,

she up the stairs did run,

And came into the chamber,

to see what he had done;

When as she saw her Husband,

lying drunk upon his back,

And the bottle lying by him,

but never a drop of sack:

I am poyson'd, I am poyson'd,

quoth he, long of my Wife,

I hope I shall be at quiet

now I have lost my life.

Pox take you, are you poyson'd,

(quoth she) I now will strive,

And do my best endeavour

to make you run alive:

With that a quill of powder

she blew up in his nose,

Then like a man turn'd antick,

he presently arose;

So down the stairs he run straight,

into the open street,

With hooping and hollowing,

to all that he did meet;

And with a loud voice cryed out,

I am raised from death to life,

By virtue of a powder, that

was given me by my Wife.

Some folks that did behold him,

were in a grievous fear,

For seeing of a Madman,

they durst not him come near:

He leaped and he skipped,

thorow fair and thorow foul,

Whilst the people gaz'd upon him

like pyce upon an owl:

His Wife she followed after,

thorow thick, and thorow thin,

And with a basting cudgel

she soundly bang'd his skin:

And thus poor Simon cryed out

I'm raised from death to life,

By virtue of a powder, that

was given me by my Wife.

At last a friend of Simon's

which was to him some kin,

By fair and kind persuasions,

open'd door and let him in;

He sent for Simon's Wife, and

so made them both good friends,

Who kindly kist each other,

and so all discord ends;

The Neighbours all rejoyced

to see them thus agreed,

And like a loving couple

to bed they went with speed.

No doubt but Simple Simon

that night well pleas'd his wife,

For ever since that time, he

hath lived a quiet life.

London: Printed by and for W. Onley,²²² and A. Melbourn;²²³ and sold by the Booksellers of Pye Corner and London Bridge.

²²² Published between 1650 and 1702.

²²³ Published between 1670 and 1697.

[93.] George (Peele) was making merry with three or foure of his friends in Pye Corner; where the Tapster of the house was much given to Poetrie: for he had ingrossed The Knight of the Sunne, Venus and Adonis, and other Pamphlets which the Stripling had collected together; and knowing George to be a Poet, he tooke great delight in his company, and out of his bounty would bestow a brace of Cannes of him. George observing the humour of the Tapster, meant presently to worke upon him. What will you say, quoth George to his friends, if, out of this spirit of the Cellar, I fetch a good Angell, that shall bid us all to supper. We would gladly see that quoth his friends. Content your selfe, quoth George. The Tapster ascends with his two Cannes, delivers one to Master Peele, and the other to his friends: gives them kind welcome: but George, in stead of giving him thankes, bids him not to trouble him: and beginnes in these termes: I protest, Gentlemen, I wonder you will urge me so much; I sweare I have it not about me. What is the matter? quoth the Tapster. Hath any one angered you? No, faith, quoth George, Ile tell thee, it is this: There is a friend of ours in Newgate, for nothing but onely the command of the Justices, and he being now to be released, sends to me to bring him an Angell: now the man I love dearely well; and if hee want tenne Angels he shall have them; for I know him sure: but heere's the misery, either I must goe home, or I must be forced to pawne this; and pluckes an old Harry-groat out of his pocket. The Tapster lookes upon it: Why, and it please you, Sir, quoth he, this is but a groat. No, Sir, quoth George, I know it is but a groat: but this groat will I not lose for forty pound: for this groat had I of my mother, as a testimony of a Lease of a House I am to possesse after her decease; and if I should lose this groat, I were in a faire case: and either I must pawne this groat, or there the fellow must lye still. Quoth the Tapster, If it please you, I will lend you an Angell on it, and I will assure you it shall bee safe. Wilt thou? quoth George; as thou art an honest man, locke it up in thy Chest, and let me have it whensoever I call for it. As I am an honest man, you shall, quoth the Tapster. George delivered him his groat; the Tapster gave him ten shillings: to the Taverne goe they with the money, and there merrily spend it. It fell out, some time after, the Tapster, having many of these lurches,²²⁴ fell to decay, and indeede was turned out of service, having no more coine in the world than this groat, and in this misery, hee met George, as poore as himselfe. O, Sir, quoth the Tapster, you are happily met; I have your groat safe, though since I saw you last, I have bid great extremitie; and I protest, save that groat, I have not any one penny in the world; therefore I pray you, Sir, helpe me to my money, and take your pawne. Not for the World, quoth George: thou saist thou hast but that Groat in the world: my bargaine was, that thou shouldst keepe that groat, untill I did demand it of thee: I ask thee none. I will doe thee farre more good; because thou art an honest fellow, keepe thou that groat still, till I call for it: and so doing, the proudest Jacke in England cannot justifie that thou art not worth a groat; otherwise, they might: and so, honest Michael, farewell. So George leaves the poore Tapster picking of his fingers, his head full of proclamations what he might doe: at last sighing, hee ends with this Proverbe

For the price of a Barrel of Beere

I have bought a groats worth of wit,

Is not that deare?

²²⁴ Drains on his purse.

[67.] In a certaine towne there was a goose stolne, and it could not bee found, out who stole it; so y^e minister a while after at service, bade all y^e people kneele downe, who answered I. (aye) Many did, but saith hee, he that stole y^e goose doth not. But I doe, quoth hee, and was taken.

[103.] An English Gentleman taking into his Service (in pure Compassion) an Irishman, who was forc'd to leave his Country upon his Conversion from the Romish (of which he was a Priest) to the English Church: Employed him in Errands, and sometimes let him follow him, to acquaint him with the Town; and having staid at a Coffee House some time, in expectation of a Man with whom he had Business, who not coming, he left his Servant there, to tell him that he could stay no longer, but was gone to such a Tavern. The Fellow immediately run after his Master, and ask'd him What he should say to the Gentleman if he should not come?

[110.] A poore begger man, that was foule, blacke, and loathsome to behould, came on a time to Maister Hobson as he walked in Moore feelds, and asked something of him for an almes, to which Maister Hobson said, I prethee, good fellow, get thee from me, for thou lookst as thou camst lately out of hell. The poore begger man, perceving hee would give him nothing, answered forsooth, Sir, you say true, for I came lately out of Hell indeed; why didst not thou tarry there still? quoth maister Hobson; nay, Sir, quoth the begger, there is no Roome for such begerr men as I am, for all is kept for such gentlemen Cittizens as you be: this wity answere caused Maister Hobson to give the poore man a teaster.²²⁵

²²⁵ Sixpence.

[82.] A Fellow having more drinke than wit, in a winter evening made a foolish vowe, to take the wall of as many as hee met betwixt the Temple bar, and Charing Crosse; and comming neere the Savoy, where stood a Poste, a little distance from the wall, the Drunkard tooke it for a man, and would have the wall, beginning to quarrell and give the Poste foule words: at which a man came by, and asked the matter, and whom he spake to: hee answered hee would have the wall of that fellow that stood so stiffly there: my friend, said the other, that is a Poste, you must give him the way. Is it so, said the fellow, a pox upon him, why did he not blow his horn?

[26.] Two Baboons being to be seen at their first coming to London, abundance of Citizens and others did resort thither to take a view of them, and did heartily laugh at their ugliness, and the strange faces which they made; which a most motherly and very discreet woman being present, did sharply thus rebuke 'em. "D'ye think you do well to laugh at strangers, who understand not your Language, and if you were in their Country, you'd take it for a great abuse, I warrant you, if they should laugh at you."

[4.] King James Riding a Hunting in Essex, comes to a Gate which he must go through, and seeing a Country Clown at it, he says to him, Prethee, good Fellow, open the gate. But he, knowing who it was, answered, No, a'nt please your Grace, I am not worthy to be in that Office; but I'le run and fetch M^r Johnson, who is a Justice of the Peace, and lives a Mile off, and he shall open it for your Grace: so he ran away as fast as he could, and left the King to open it himself.

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