At Charing Cross, hard by the way
Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay,
There is a house with stairs;
And there did I see coming down
Such folks as are not in our town;
Vorty at least, in pairs.
Amongst the rest one pest'lent fine
(His beard no bigger tho' than thine)
Walk'd on before the rest;
Our landlord looks like nothing to him;
The King (God bless him), 'twould undo him,
Should he go still so drest.
At Course-a-park, without all doubt,
He should have first been taken out
By all the maids i' the town:
Though lusty Roger there had been,
Or little George upon the green,
Or Vincent of the crown.
But wot you what? The youth was going
To make an end of all his wooing:
The parson for him staid :
Yet by his leave, for all his haste,
He did not so much wish all past,
Perchance as did the maid.
The maid (and thereby hangs a tale)
For such a maid no Whitson-ale
Could ever yet produce;
No grape that's kindly ripe could be
So round, so plump, so soft as she,
Nor half so full of juyce.
Her finger was so small, the ring
Would not stay on which they did bring ;
It was too wide a peck:
And, to say truth (for out it must),
It look'd like the great collar (just)
About our young colt's neck.
Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice stole in and out,
As if they fear'd the light:
But oh! she dances such a way;
No sun upon an Easter day
Is half as fine a sight.
Her cheeks so rare, a white was on,
No daisie make comparison
(Who sees them is undone);
For streaks of red were mingled there,
Such as are on a Kath'rine pear,
The side that's next the sun.
Her lips were red; and one was thin,
Compared to what was next her chin
(Some bee had stung it newly);
But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face,
I durst no more upon them gaze,
Than on a sun in July.
Her mouth so small, when she does speak,
Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break
That they might passage get;
But she so handled still the matter,
They came as good as ours, or better,
And are not spent a whit.
Passion, oh me! how I run on !
There's that that would be thought upon,
I trow, beside the bride.
The business of the kitchen's great;
For it is fit that men should eat,
Nor was it there denied.
Just in the nick the cook knocked thrice,
And all the waiters in a trice
His summons did obey;
Each serving man, with dish in hand,
March'd boldly up like our train'd band,
Presented, and away.
When all the meat was on the table,
What man of knife, or teeth, was able
To stay to be entreated?
And this the very reason was,
Before the parson could say grace
The company was seated.
Now hats fly off, and youths carouse;
Healths first go round, and then the house,
The bride's came thick and thick;
And when 'twas named another's health,
Perhaps he made it her's by stealth,
(And who could help it, Dick?)
O' th' sudden up they rise and dance;
Then sit again, and sigh, and glance :
Then dance again, and kiss:
Thus several ways the time did pass,
Till ev'ry woman wish'd her place,
And ev'ry man wish'd his.
By this time all were stolen aside
To counsel and undress the bride;
But that he must not know:
But yet 'twas thought he guess'd her mind,
And did not mean to stay behind
WHY SO pale and wan, fond lover?
Prithee, why so pale?
Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?
Prithee, why so pale?
Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
Prithee, why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing do't?
Prithee, why so mute?
Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move,
This cannot take her;
If of herself she will not love,
Nothing can make her.
The devil take her!
Tell her, that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee
How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.
Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired :
Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired.
Then die! that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee:
How small a part of time they share
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
THE FROG HE WOULD A-WOOING RIDE
Ir was the frog in the well,
Humble dum, humble dum,
And the merry mouse in the mill,
Tweedle, tweedle, twino.
The frog would a-wooing ride,
Humble dum, humble dum,
Sword and buckler by his side,
Tweedle, tweedle, twino.
When upon his high horse set,
Humble dum, humble dum,
His boots they shone as black as jet,
Tweedle, tweedle, twino.
When he came to the merry mill pin,
Lady Mouse beene you within?
Then came out the dusty mouse,
I am lady of this house;
Hast thou any mind of me?
I have e'en great mind of thee.
Who shall this marriage make?
Our lord, which is the rat.
What shall we have to our supper?
Three beans in a pound of butter.
But, when supper they were at,
The frog, the mouse, and e'en the rat,
Then came in Tib, our cat,
And caught the mouse e'en by the back,
Then did they separate:
The frog leapt on the floor so flat;
Then came in Dick, our drake,
And drew the frog e'en to the lake,
The rat he ran up the wall,
And so the company parted all.
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