2243 
 
 195 
 
 'oaS
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALEF 
 
 AT LOS ANGELE
 
 THE 
 
 TEMPLE 
 
 CLASSICS 
 
 THE GULS HORNBOOK 
 
 AND 
 
 THE BELMAN OF LONDON 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS DEKKER
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 Made in Great Britain 
 
 at The Temple Press Letchworth 
 
 for 
 
 J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd, 
 
 Aldine House Bedford St. London 
 
 First Published in this Edition t^oj 
 
 Reprinted 1922, 1916, igzS, 1 931, 193^
 
 THE BELMAN 
 
 OF LONDON. 
 
 Bringing CO light die moft notorious 
 
 viljanies that are now pracflifed 
 
 in theK I N G D OM E. 
 
 Profitablefor Gentlemen, Lawyers,Mcrchants,Cirizens,Farmcr? 
 
 Miftertot Houlholdsi^nd all fories ot rcruin:S;CO maike^ 
 aad ddighttuli for all men to Rcidc, 
 
 Lege^ VerUge^ ReUge 
 
 Printed at Lo'ndonfor Nathaniel BvTTBa. i tf o 8,
 
 TheGULS^ 
 
 HORNBGDK 
 
 %.WAND 
 
 TfieBELMAN 
 
 9TPNDON 
 
 IriTwoRirts 
 
 byTHOMAS 
 DEKKER.' 
 
 Lf» 
 
 MCMXXXW PUBLISHED • BY- J • M • DENT 
 &.SONS-LD-ALDINE-HOUSE-LONDON-W-C
 
 Collet 
 7^ /^Library 
 
 I 
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE
 
 To all Guls In generally nvealth and Liberty, 
 
 Whom can I choose (my most worthy Maecan- 
 asses) to be Patrons to this labour of mine fitter 
 then yourselves ? Your hands are ever open, 
 your purses never shut. So that you stand not 
 in the Common Ranck of Dry-Jisted Patrons^ 
 (who give nothing) for you give all. Schollers, 
 therefore, are as much beholden to you, as 
 Vintners, Players, and Punks are. Those 
 three trades gaine by you more then Usurers do 
 by thirty in the hundred : You spend the wines 
 of the one, you make suppers for the other, and 
 change your Gold into White money with the 
 third. Who is more liberall then you ? who 
 (but only Cittizens) are more free ? Blame me 
 not therefore, if I pick you out from the bunch 
 of Booke-takersy to consecrate these fruits of my 
 braine (which shall never die) onely to you. I 
 know that most of you (O admirable Guls !) 
 can neither write nor reade. A Horne-booke 
 have I invented, because I would have you well 
 schooled. Pozvles is your fValke ; but this your 
 Guide : if it lead you right, thanke me : if astray, 
 men will beare with your errors, because you are 
 Guls. Fare-well. T. D. 

 
 8 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The foure elbowes (for any one that will weare it) is 
 d th^ put to making, in defiance of the seven wise 
 critics rnaisters : for I have smelt out of the musty 
 sheetes of an old Almanacke, that (at one time 
 or other) even he that jets upon the neatest and 
 sprucest leather, even he that talkes all Adage 
 and Apothegme^ even he that w^ill not have a 
 wrinckle in his new Sattein suit, though his mind 
 be uglier then his face, and his face so ill- 
 favouredly made, that he lookes at all times as if 
 a tooth-drawer were fumbling about his gommes 
 with a / thousand lame Heteroclites more, that 
 cozen the world with a guilt spur and a ruffled 
 boote ; will be all glad to fit themselves in Will 
 Sommer his wardrobe, and be driven (like a 
 Flemish Hoy in foule weather) to slip into our 
 Schoole, and take out a lesson. Tush, Calum 
 pet'imus stultitid, all that are chosen Constables 
 for their wit go not to heaven. 
 
 A fig therefore for the new-found Colledge 
 of Criticks. You Courtiers, that do nothing 
 but sing the gamuth - are of complemental 
 courtesie, and at the rustical behaviour of our 
 Countrie Muse, will screw forth worse faces 
 then those which God and the Painter has 
 bestowed upon you, I defie your perfumd scorne : 
 and vow to poyson your Muske cats, if their 
 civet excrement doe but once play with my nose. 
 You ordinary Guiles, that through a poore and 
 silly ambition to be thought you inherit the 
 revenues of extraordinary wit, will spend your 
 shallow censure upon the most elaborate Poeme 
 80 lavishly, that all the painted table-men about 
 you, take you to be heires apparant to rich
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 9 
 
 Midas, that had more skill in alch'imy then The 
 Kelly with the Phylosophers stone; (for all author's 
 that he could lay his fingers on, turned into P?" ^*J.^^ 
 beaten gold) dry Tobacco with my leaves (you g.^ 
 good dry brained polypragmonists^ till your pipe 
 offices smoake with your pittifuUy stinking girds 
 shot out against me. I conjure you (as you 
 come of the right goose-caps) staine not your 
 hose ; but when at a new play you take up the 
 twelve-penny roome next the stage ; (because 
 the Lords and you may seeme to be haile 
 fellow wel-met) there draw forth this booke, 
 read alowd, laugh alowd, and play the Anttckesy 
 that all the garlike mouthd stinkards may cry 
 out, Aiuay iv'ith the fool. As for thee, Zoilus, 
 goe hang thy selfe : and for thee Momus, chew 
 nothing but hemlock, and spit nothing but the 
 sirrup of Aloes upon my papers, till thy very 
 rotten lungs come forth for anger. I am Snake- 
 proof: and, though, with Hanniball, you bring 
 whole hogs-heads of vinegar-railings, it is im- 
 possible for you to quench or come over my 
 Alpine-resolution : I will saile boldly and des- 
 perately alongst the shore of the He of Guls ; 
 and in defiance of those terrible blockhouses, 
 their loggerheads, make a true discovery of their 
 wild (yet habitable) Country. 
 
 Sound an Allarum therefore (O thou my 
 couragious Muse) and, like a Dutch cryer, make 
 proclamation with thy Drum : the effect of 
 thine O-yes being. That if any man, woman or 
 child, be he Lord, be he Lowne, be he Courtier, 
 be he Carter, of ye Innes of Court, or Innes of 
 Citty, that, hating from the bottome of his heart
 
 10 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The all good manners and generous education, is 
 audience really in love, or rather doates on that excellent 
 moned country Lady, Innocent Simplicity^ being the first, 
 fairest, and chiefest Chamber-maide that our 
 great grandame Eve entertained into service : Or 
 if any person aforesaid, longing to make a voyage 
 in the ship of Fooles, would venture all the wit 
 that his mother left him, to live in the country 
 of Guls, cockneys^ and coxcombs ; to the intent 
 that, haunting theaters, he may sit there, like a 
 popinjay, onely to learne play-speeches, which 
 afterward may furnish ye necessity of his bare 
 knowledge, to maintaine table talke, or else, 
 heating tavernes, desires to take the Bacchanalian 
 degrees, and to write himselfe in arte bibendi 
 magister ; that at ordinaries would sit like Bias, 
 and in the streets walk like a braggart, that on 
 foote longs to goe like a French Lacquey, and 
 on horsebacke rides like an English Tailor, or 
 that from seven yeares and upward, till his dying 
 day, has a monethes mind to have the Guls 
 Horneboohe by hearte ; by which in time he may 
 be promoted to serve any Lord in Europe, as his 
 crafty foole, or his bawdy Jester, yea and to be 
 so deere to his Lordship, as for the excellency 
 of his fooling, to be admitted both to ride in 
 Coach with him, and to lie at his very feete on 
 a truckle-bed. Let all such (and I hope the 
 world has not left her olde fashions, but there 
 are ten thousand such) repaire hither. Never 
 knocke, (you that strive to be Ninny-hammer) 
 but with your feete spurne open the doore, and 
 enter into our Schoole : you shall not neede to 
 buy bookes, no, scorne to distinguish a B from a
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE ii 
 
 battle doore ; onely looke that your eares be The 
 long enough to reach our Rudiments, and you sciences 
 are made for ever. It is by heart that I would . ^^^^^^ 
 have you to con my lessons, and therefore be jdiotism 
 sure to have most devouring stomaches. Nor be 
 you terrified with an opinion, that our rules be 
 hard and indigestible, or that you shall never be 
 good Graduates in these rare sciences of Bar- 
 barlsme, and Idiotisme. O fie, uppon any man 
 that carries that ungodly minde ! Tush, tush ; 
 Tarleton^ Kemp^ nor Singer, nor all the litter of 
 Fooles that now come drawling behinde them, 
 never played the clownes more naturally then 
 the arrantest Sot of you all shall if hee will but 
 boyle my Instructions in his braine-pan. 
 
 And lest I my selfe like somQ pedantical Vicar 
 stammering out a most false and crackt latine 
 oration to maister Mayor of the towne and his 
 brethren, should cough and hem in my deliveries ; 
 by which meanes you (my Auditors) should be 
 in danger to depart more like woodcockes then 
 when you came to me : O thou venerable father 
 of antient (and therefore hoary) customes, Syl- 
 vanus, I invoke thy assistance ; thou that first 
 taughtest Carters to weare hob-nailes, and Lobs 
 to play Christmas gambols, and to shew the 
 most beastly horse-trickes : O do thou, or (if 
 thou art not at leasure) let thy Mountibancke, 
 goat-footed Fauni, inspire me with the know- 
 ledge of all those silly and ridiculous fashions, 
 which the old dunsticall world woare even out 
 at elbowes ; draw for me the pictures of the 
 most simple fellowes then living, that by their 
 patterns 1 may paint the like. Awake thou
 
 12 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 Appeal to noblest drunkerd Bacchus, thou must likewise 
 Bacchus g^-^j^^ to me (if at least thou canst for reeling), 
 teach me (you soveraigne skinker) how to take 
 the Germans upsy freeze, the Danish Roivsa, 
 the Switzers stoap of Rhenish, the Italians 
 Parmizanf, the Englishmans healthes, his hoopes, 
 cans, halfecans, Gloves, Frolicks and flapdragons, 
 together with the most notorious qualities of the 
 truest tosspots, as when to cast, when to quarrell, 
 when to fight, and where to sleepe : hide not a 
 drop of thy moist mystery from me, (thou 
 plumpest swil-bowle) but (like an honest red- 
 nosed wine-bibber) lay open all thy secrets, and 
 ye mystical Hieroglyphich of Rashers a' th* 
 coales, Modicums and shooing-hornes, and why 
 they were invented, for what occupations, and 
 when to be used. Thirdly (because I will have 
 more then two strings to my bow) Comus, thou 
 Clarke of Gluttonies kitchen, doe thou also bid 
 me proface, and let me not rise from table, till I 
 am perfect in all the generall rules of Epicures 
 and Cormorants. Fatten thou my braines, that 
 I may feede others, and teach them both how to 
 squat downe to their meat, and how to munch 
 so like Loobies, that the wisest Solon in the 
 world, shall not be able to take them for any 
 other. If there be any strength in thee, thou 
 beggerly Monarche of India?is, and setter-up of 
 rotten-lungd chimneysweepers, (Tobacco) I beg 
 it at thy smoaky hands : make me thine adopted 
 heire, that, inheriting the vertues of thy whiffes, 
 I may / distribute them amongst all nations, and 
 make the phantastick Englishmen (above the 
 rest) more cunning in the distinction of thy
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 13 
 
 Ronvle Trinidadoy Leafe, and Pudding, then the and to 
 whitest toothd Black amoore in all Jsia. After tobacco 
 thy pipe, shal ten thousands be taught to daunce, 
 if thou wilt but discover to me the sweetnesse of 
 thy snufFes, with the manner of spawling, slaver- 
 ing, spetting and driveling in all places, and 
 before all persons. Oh what songs will I 
 charme out, in praise of those valiantly-strong- 
 stinking breaths, which are easily purchased at 
 thy hands, if I can but get thee to traveil through 
 my nose. All the fob's in the fairest Ladies 
 mouth, that ever kist Lord, shall not fright me 
 from thy browne presence : for thou art humble, 
 and from the Courts of Princes hast vouchsafed 
 to be acquainted with penny galleries, and (like 
 a good-fellow) to be drunke for company, with 
 Water-men, Carmen and Colliers ; whereas 
 before, and so still, Knights and wise Gentlemen 
 were, & are thy companions. Last of all, thou 
 Lady of Clownes and Carters, Schoolmistres of 
 fooles and wiseacres, thou homely (but harme- 
 lesse) Rusticity, Oh breath thy dull and dunsti- 
 call spirit into our ganders quill ; crowne me 
 thy Poet, not with a garland of Bayes (Oh no ! 
 the number of those that steale laivret is too 
 monstrous already) but swaddle thou my browes 
 with those unhansome boughes, which, (like 
 Autumns rotten haire), hang dangling over thy 
 dusty eye-lids. Helpe me (thou midwife of 
 unmannerlinesse) to be delivered of this Embryon 
 that lies tumbling in my braine : direct me in 
 this hard and dangerous voyage, that being 
 safely arrived on the desired shore, I may build 
 up Altars to thy Unmatcheable Rudeness ; the
 
 14 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 Tailors excellency whereof I know will be so great, 
 and cooks that Grout-no-ivles and Moames will in swarmes 
 fly buzzing about thee. So Herculean a labour 
 is this, that I undertake, that I am enforced to 
 bawl out for all your succours, to the intent I 
 may aptly furnish this feast of Fooles, unto which 
 I solemnely invite all the world ; for at it shall 
 sit not only those whom Fortune favours, but 
 even those whose wits are naturally their owne. 
 Yet because your artificiall fooles beare away the 
 bell, all our best workmanship (at this time) 
 shall be spent to fashion such a Creature. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 The old world, & the new weighed together : the 
 
 Tailors of those times, and these compared : 
 
 the apparell, and dyet of our first fathers. 
 
 Good cloathes are the embroidred trappings of 
 pride, and good cheere the very eringo-roote of 
 gluttony : so that fine backes, and fat bellyes 
 are Coach-horses to two of the seven deadly 
 sins : In the bootes of which Coach, Lechery 
 and Sloth sit like the waiting-maide. In a most 
 desperate state therefore doe Taylors, and 
 Cookes stand, by meanes of their offices : for 
 both those trades are Apple-squires to that 
 couple of sinnes. The one invents more 
 fantasticke fashions, then Fraunce bath worne 
 since her first stone was laid ; the other more 
 lickerish epicurean dishes, then were ever servd 
 up to Gallonius table. Did man, (thinke you)
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 15 
 
 come wrangling into the world, about ro better Adam 
 matters, then all his lifetime to make privy a-"" Eve ; 
 searches in Burchin lane for Whalebone doublets, a.pro„n4. 
 or for pies of Nightingale tongues in Heliogahalus 
 his kitchin ? No, no, the first suit of apparell, 
 that ever mortall man put on, came neither from 
 the Mercers shop, nor the Merchants ware- 
 house : Adams bill would have beene taken then, 
 sooner then a Knights bond now ; yet was hee 
 great in no bodies bookes for satten, and velvets : 
 the silk-wormes had something else to do in 
 those dayes, then to set up loomes, and be free 
 of the weavers : his breeches were not so much 
 worth as King Stephens, that cost but a poore 
 noble : for Adams holyday hose and doublet 
 were of no better stuffe then plaine fig-leaves, 
 and E'ves best gowne of the same peece : there 
 went but a paire of sheeres betweene them. An 
 Antiquary in this towne, has yet some of the 
 powder of those leaves dr^^ed to shew. Taylors 
 then were none of the twelve Companies : their 
 Hall, that now is larger then some Dorps 
 among the Netherlands^ was then no bigger then 
 a Dutch Butchers shop : they durst not strike 
 downe their customers with large bills : Adam 
 cared not an apple-paring for all their lousy hems. 
 There was then neither the Spanish slop, nor the 
 Skippers galligaskin : the Sivitzers blistred Cod- 
 piece, nor the Danish sleeve sagging / down like 
 a Welch wallet, the Italians close strosser, nor 
 the French standing coller : your trebble- 
 quadruple Dcedalian ruffes, nor your stifFenecked 
 rebatoes, (that have more arches for pride to 
 row under, then can stand under five London
 
 i6 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 Diet of Bridges) durst not then set themselves out in 
 
 the Satur- pj-i^i- . f-Qj. ^j^g patent for starch could by no 
 
 ^ meanes be signed. Fashions then was counted a 
 
 disease, and horses died of it : But now (thankes 
 
 to folly) it is held the onely rare phisicke, and 
 
 the purest golden Asses live upon it. 
 
 As for the diet of that Saturnian age, it was 
 like their attire, homely : A sallad, and a mess 
 of leeke porridge, was a dinner for a far greater 
 man than ever the Turke was : Potato-pies, and 
 Custards, stood like the sinful suburbs of 
 Cookery, and had not a wall (so much as a 
 handfuU hie) built rownd about them. There 
 were no daggers then, nor no Chayres. Crookes 
 his ordinary, in those parsimonious dayes, had 
 not a Capons-leg to throw at a dog. Oh golden 
 world, the suspicious Venedan carved not his 
 meate with a silver pitch-forke, neither did the 
 sweet-toothd Englishman shift a dozen of 
 trenchers at one meale. Piers Ploughman layd 
 the cloth, and Simplicity brought in the voyder. 
 How wonderfully is the world altered ? and no 
 marvell, for it has lyein sicke almost five thousand 
 yeares : So that it is no more like the old Theater 
 du munde, than old Paris garden is like the Kings 
 garden at Paris. 
 
 What an excellent workeman therefore were 
 he, that could cast the Globe of it into a new 
 mould : And not to make it look like MulUneux 
 his Globe, with a round face sleekt and washt 
 over with whites of egges ; but to have it in 
 PlariOy as it was at first, with all the ancient 
 circles, lines, paralels, and figures, representing 
 indeede, all the wrinckles, crackes, crevises and
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 17 
 
 flawes that (like the Mole on Hattens cheek, The 
 being os amoris,) stuck upon it at the first "Su^^^ry 
 creation, and made it looke most lovely ; but 
 now those furrowes are filled up with Cerise, 
 and Vermilion ; yet all will not doe, it appeares 
 more ugly. Come, come, it would be but a bald 
 world, but that it weares a periwig. The body 
 of it is fowle (like a birding-peece) by being too 
 much heated : the breath of it stinks like the 
 mouthes of Chambermaides by feeding on so 
 many sweat meats. And, though to purge it 
 wil be a sorer labour then the clensing / of 
 Augeaes stable, or the scowring of Moorditch : 
 yet. Ilk ego, qui quondam ; I am the Pasquille 
 madcap, that will doo't. 
 
 Draw neere therefore, all you that love to 
 walke upon single and simple soules, and that 
 wish to keepe company with none but Innocents, 
 and the sonnes of civill Citizens, out with your 
 tables, and naile your eares (as it were to 
 the pillary) to the musique of our instructions : 
 nor let the title Guilery, fright you from schoole : 
 for marke what an excellent ladder you are to 
 clime by. How many worthy, and men of 
 famous memory (for their learning of all offices, 
 from the scavenger and so upward) have 
 flourished in London of ye ancient familie of the 
 IViseacres, being now no better esteemed than 
 fooles and yonger brothers ? This geare must 
 be lookt into, lest in time (O lamentable time, 
 when that houre-glasse is turned up) a rich mans 
 Sonne shall no sooner peepe out of the shell of 
 his minority, but he shall straightwaies be begd 
 for a concealement, or set upon (as it were, by 
 
 B
 
 iS THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The free-booters) and tane in his owne purse-nets by 
 forfhe ^"^"^^^^ ^^^ cony-catchers. To drive which 
 gyll pestilent infection from the heart, heeres a 
 medicine more potent, and more precious, then 
 was ever that mingle-mangle of drugs which 
 Mitkr'idates boyld together. Feare not to tast 
 it : a cawdle will not goe downe halfe so smoothly 
 as this will : you neede not call the honest name 
 of it in question, for Antiquity puts off his cap, 
 and makes a bare oration in praise of the vertues 
 of it : the Receipt hath beene subscribed unto, 
 by all those that have had to doe with Simples^ 
 with this moth-eaten Motto^ Probatum est : 
 your Diacatho/icon aureum, that with gun-powder 
 brings threaten [ing]s to blow up all diseases 
 that come in his way, and smels worse then 
 Assafatida in respect of this. You therefore 
 whose bodyes, either overflowing with the corrupt 
 humours of this ages phantasticknesse, or else 
 being burnt up with the inflammation of upstart 
 fashions, would faine be purgd : and to shew 
 that you truly loath this polluted and mangy- 
 fisted world, turne Timonists, not caring either 
 for men or their maners. Doe you pledge me, 
 spare not to take a deepe draught of our homely 
 councel. The cup is full, and so large, that I 
 boldly drinke a health unto all commers. /
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 How a young Gallant shall not onely keepe his 
 
 clothes (which many of them can hardly doe 
 
 for Brokers) but also save the charges 
 
 of taking physicke ; with other rules 
 
 for the morning, the praise of 
 
 Sleepe, and of going naked. 
 
 Y'ou have heard all this while nothing but the In praise 
 Prologue^ and seene no more but a dumbe shew : of sleep 
 Our i)etus Comad'ta steps out now. The fittest 
 stage upon which you (that study to be an Actor 
 there) are first to present your selfe is (in my 
 approved judgment) the softest and largest 
 Downe-bed : from whence (if you will but take 
 sound councell of your pillow) you shall never 
 rise, till you heare it ring noone at least. Sleep, 
 in the name of Morpheus^ your bellyfull, or ,- 
 (rather) sleepe till you heare your belly grombles 
 and waxeth empty. Care not for those coor.^e 
 painted cloath rimes, made by ye University of 
 Salerne, that come over you, with 
 
 Sit brevis, aut nullus, tibi somnus merldianus. 
 Short let thy sleepe at noone be, 
 Or rather let it none be. 
 
 Sweete candied councell, but theres rats-bane 
 under it : trust never a Bachiler of Art of them 
 all, for he speakes your health faire, but to steale 
 away the maidenhead of it: Salerne stands in 
 the luxurious country oi Naples, and who knowes 
 not that the Neapolitan, will (like Derick the
 
 20 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The evils hangman) embrace you with one arme, and rip 
 of physic yQ^j. gm-g ^j^.j^ j.j^g other ? theres not a haire in 
 his mustachoo, but if he kisse you, will stabbe 
 you through the cheekes like a ponyard : the 
 slave, to be avenged on his enemy, will drink off 
 a pint of poison himselfe so that he may be sure 
 to have the other pledge him but halfe so much. 
 And it may be, that upon some secret grudge to 
 worke the generall destruction of all mankinde, 
 those verses were composed. Phisisians^ I know 
 (and none else) tooke up the bucklers in their 
 defence, railing bitterly upon that venerable and 
 princely custom of long-lying-abed: Yet, now I 
 remember me, I cannot blame them ; for / they 
 which want sleepe (which is mans natural! rest) 
 become either mere Naturals, or else fall into 
 the Doctors hands, and so consequently into the 
 Lords : whereas he that snorts profoundly scornes 
 to let Hippocrates himselfe stand tooting on his 
 Urinall, and thereby saves that charges of a 
 groates worth of Physicke : And happy is that 
 man that saves it ; for phisick is Non minus 
 'venejica, quam henejica, it hath an ounce of gall 
 in it, for every dram of hony. Ten Tyburnes 
 cannot turne men over ye perch so fast as one of 
 these brewers of purgations : the very nerves of 
 their practice being nothing but Ars Homicidiorum, 
 an Art to make poore soules kick up their heeles. 
 In so much, that even their sicke grunting 
 patients stand in more danger of M. Doctor and 
 his drugs, then of all the Cannon shots which 
 the desperate disease it selfe can discharge 
 against them. Send them packing therefore, 
 to walke like Italian Moimtebankes. beate not
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 21 
 
 your braines to understand their parcell-Greeke, Benefits 
 parcell-Latine gibrish : let not all their sophisti- of sleep 
 call buzzing into your eares, nor their Satyricall 
 canvassing of feather-beds and tossing men out 
 of their warme blanckets, awake you till the 
 houre that heere is prescribed. 
 
 For doe but consider what an excellent thing 
 sleepe is : It is so inestimable a Jewel, that, if a 
 Tyrant would give his crowne for an houres 
 slumber, it cannot be bought : of so beautifull a 
 shape is it, that though a man lye with an 
 Empresse, his heart cannot be at quiet, till he 
 leaves her embracements to be at rest with the 
 other : yea, so greatly indebted are we to this 
 kinseman of death, that we owe the better 
 tributary, halfe of our life to him : and thers good 
 cause why we should do so : for sleepe is that 
 golden chaine that ties health and our bodies to- 
 gether. Who complains of want ? of woundes ? 
 of cares ? of great mens oppressions, of captivity ? 
 whilest he sleepeth ? Beg^ers in their beds take 
 as much pleasure as Kings : can we therefore 
 surfet on this delicate Ambrosia ? can we drink 
 too much of that whereof to tast too little tumbles 
 us into a church-yard, and to use it but indiffer- 
 ently, throwes us into Bedlam ? No, no, looke 
 uppon EndymioTiy the Moones Minion, who slept 
 threescore and fifteene yeares, and was not a 
 haire the worse for it. Can lying abedde till 
 noone then (being not the threescore and fifteenth 
 thousand part of his nap) be hurtfull ? 
 
 Besides, by the opinion of all Phylosophers 
 and Physitians, it is not good to trust the aire 
 with our bodies / till the Sun with his flame-
 
 22 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The coloured wings, hath fand away the mistie smoke 
 healthful q£ ^.^^ morning, and refind that thicke tobacco- 
 rise ^^^'^^^ which the rheumaticke night throwes 
 abroad of purpose to put out the eye of the 
 Element : which worke questionlesse cannot be 
 perfectly finished, till the sunnes Car-horses 
 stand prancing on the very top of highest noon : 
 so that then (and not till then) is the most health- 
 full houre to be stirring. Do you require ex- 
 amples to perswade you ? At what time do 
 Lords and Ladies use to rise, but then? your 
 simpring Merchants wives are the fairest lyers in 
 the world : and is not eleven a clocke their 
 common houre ? theyfinde (no doubt) unspeakable 
 sweetnesse in such lying, else they would not 
 day by day put it so in practise. In a word, 
 midday slumbers are golden; they make the 
 body fat, the skin faire, the flesh plump, delicate 
 and tender ; they set a russet colour on the 
 • cheekes of young women, and make lusty 
 courage to rise up in men ; they make us thrifty, 
 both in sparing victuals (for breakefasts thereby 
 are savd from the hell-mouth of the belly) 
 and in preserving apparell ; for while wee 
 warm us in our beds, our clothes are not 
 worne. 
 
 The casements of thine eyes being then at this 
 commendable time of the day, newly set open, 
 choose rather to have thy wind-pipe cut in pieces 
 then to salute any man. Bid not good-morrow 
 so much as to thy father, tho he be an Emperour. 
 An idle ceremony it is, and can doe him little 
 good ; to thy selfe it may bring much harme : for 
 if he be a wise man that knowes how to hold his
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 23 
 
 peace, of necessity must he be counted a foole Play the 
 that cannot keep his tongue. Jew 1 
 
 Amongst all the wild men that runne up and 
 downe in this wild forest of fooles (the world) 
 none are more superstitious then those notable 
 Ehritians, the Jewes : yet a Jewe never weares 
 his cap threed-bare with putting it off: never 
 bends i' th' hammes with casting away a leg, 
 never cries God save you, tho he sees the Divell 
 at your elbow. Play the Jewes therefore in 
 this, and save thy lips that labour, onely re- 
 member, that so soone as thy eyelids be unglewd, 
 thy first exercise must be (either sitting upright 
 on thy pillow, or rarely loling at thy bodies 
 whole length) to yawne, to stretch, and to gape 
 wider then any oyster-wife : for thereby thou 
 doest not onely send out the lively spirits (like 
 vaunt-curers) to fortifie and make good the utter- 
 most borders of the body ; but also (as a cunning 
 painter) thy goodly lineaments are drawne out 
 in their fairest proportion. 
 
 This lesson being playd, turne over a new 
 leafe, and, (unlesse that Freezeland Curre, cold 
 winter, offer to bite thee,) walke awhile up and 
 downe thy chamber, either m thy thin shirt onely, 
 or else (which, at a bare word, is both more 
 decent and more delectable) strip thy selfe stark 
 naked. Are we not born so ? and shall a foolish 
 custome make us to breake the lawes of our 
 Creation ? our first parents, so long as they went 
 naked, were suffered to dwell in paradice, but, 
 after they got coates to their backes, they were 
 turnd out of doores. Put on therefore either 
 no apparel at all, or put it on carelessly : for looke
 
 24 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The how much more delicate libertie is then bondage, 
 luxury of so much is the loosenesse in wearing of our 
 nakea- ^(.^jj-g^ above the imprisonment of being neatly 
 and Tailor-like drest up in it. To be ready in 
 our clothes, is to be ready for nothing else. A 
 man lookes as if hee be hung in chaines ; or like 
 a scarecrow : and as those excellent birds (whom 
 Pliny could never have the wit to catch in all his 
 sprindges) commonly called woodcocks (where- 
 of there is great store in England) having all 
 their feathers pluckt from their backes, and 
 being turnd out as naked as Platoes cocke was 
 before all Diogenes his Schollers : or as the 
 Cuckooe in Christmas, are more fit to come to 
 any Knights board, and are indeede more service- 
 able then when they are lapt in their warme 
 liveries : even so stands the case with man. 
 Truth (because the bald-pate her father Time 
 has no haire to cover his head) goes (when she 
 goes best,) starke naked; But falshood has 
 ever a cloake for the raine. You see likewise, 
 that the Lyon, being the king of beasts, the 
 horse, being the lustiest creature, the Unicorne, 
 whose home is worth halfe a City ; all these go 
 with no more clothes on their backes, then what 
 nature hath bestowed upon them : But your 
 babiownes, and youTrJ Jackanapes (being the 
 scum and rascality of all the hedge-creepers) 
 they go in jerkins and mandilions : marry how ? 
 They are put into their rags onely in mockery. 
 
 Oh beware therefore both what you weare, 
 and how you weare / it, and let this heavenly 
 reason move you never to be hansome, for, when 
 the sunne is arising out of his bed, does not the
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 25 
 
 element seem more glorious, then (being onely Around 
 in gray) then at noone, when hees in all his ^^c fire 
 bravery ? it was madnesse to deny it. What man 
 would not gladly see a beautifull woman naked, 
 or at least with nothing but a lawne, or some 
 loose thing over her ; and even highly lift her up 
 for being so ? Shall wee then abhorre that in 
 our selves, which we admire and hold to be so 
 excellent in others ? Absit. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 How a yong Gallant should warme himself by the 
 fire ; how attire himself: The descrip- 
 tion of a mans head ; the praise 
 of long haire. 
 
 But if (as it often happens unlesse the yeare 
 catch the sweating sicknesse) the morning, like 
 charity waxing cold, thrust his frosty fingers into 
 thy bosome, pinching thee black and blew (with 
 his nailes made of yce) like an invisible goblin, 
 so that thy teeth (as if thou wert singing prick- 
 song) stand coldly quavering in thy head, and 
 leap up and downe like the nimble Jackes of a 
 paire of Virginals : be then as swift as a whirle- 
 winde, and as boystrous in tossing all thy cloathes 
 in a rude heape together : With which bundle 
 filling thine amies, steppe bravely forth, crying : 
 Room^ nvhat a coyle keepe you about the jire ? The 
 more are set round about it, the more is thy 
 commendation, if thou either bluntly ridest over 
 their shoulders, or tumblest aside their stooles
 
 26 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 How the to creepe into the chimney-corner : there toast 
 
 &^|| thy body, till thy scorched skinne be speckled 
 
 ^ tt^ e ^^^ over, being staind with more motley colours 
 
 himself ^^^^ ^^^ ^^ t)e scene on the right side of the 
 
 rainebow. 
 
 Neither shall it be fit for the state of thy health, 
 to put on thy Apparell, till by sitting in that hot- 
 house of the chimney, thou feelest the fat dew 
 of thy body (like basting) run trickling down 
 thy sides ; for by that meanes thou maist law- 
 fully boast, that thou livest by the sweat of thy 
 browes. 
 
 As / for thy stockings and. shoos, so weare 
 them, that all men may point at thee, and make 
 thee famous by that glorious name of a Ala/e- 
 content. Or, if thy quicksilver can runne so 
 farre on thy errant, as to fetch thee bootes out 
 of S. Martens, let it be thy prudence to have 
 the tops of them wide as ye mouth of a wallet, 
 and those with fringed boote-hose over them to 
 hang downe to thy ankles. Doves are accounted 
 innocent, and loving creatures : thou, in observ- 
 ing this fashion, shalt seeme to be a rough- 
 footed dove, and be held as innocent. Besides, 
 the strawling, which of necessity so much lether 
 between thy legs must put thee into, will be 
 thought not to grow from thy disease, but from 
 that gentleman-like habit. 
 
 Having thus apparelled thee from top to toe, 
 according to that simple fashion, which the best 
 Goose-caps in Europe strive to imitate, it is now 
 high time for me to have a blow at thy head, 
 which I will not cut off with sharp documents, 
 but rather set it on faster, bestowing upon it such
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 27 
 
 excellent carving, that, if all the wise men of The 
 Gottam should lay their heads together, their human 
 Jobbernowles should not bee able to compare "^^-^ 
 with thine. 
 
 To maintaine therefore that sconce of thine, 
 strongly guarded, and in good reparation, never 
 suffer combe to fasten his teeth there : let thy 
 haire grow thick and bushy like a forrest, or 
 some wildernesse ; lest those sixe-footed creatures 
 that breede in it, and are Tenants to that crowne- 
 land of thine, bee hunted to death by every base 
 barbarous Barber ; and so that delicate, and 
 tickling pleasure of scratching, be utterly taken 
 from thee : For the Head is a house built for 
 Reason to dwell in ; and thus is the tenement 
 framed. The two Eyes are the glasse windowes, 
 at which light disperses itself into every roome, 
 having goodly penthouses of haire to overshadow 
 them : As for the nose, tho some (most 
 injuriously and improperly) make it serve for an 
 Indian chimney, yet surely it is rightly a bridge 
 with two arches, under which are neat passages 
 to convey as well perfumes to aire and sweeten 
 every chamber, as to carry away all noisome 
 filth that is swept out of uncleane corners : the 
 cherry lippes open, like the new- painted gates of 
 a Lord Mayor's house, to take in provision. 
 The tongue is a bell, hanging just under the 
 middle of the roofe ; and / lest it should be 
 rung out too deepe (as sometimes it is when 
 women have a peale) whereas it was cast by the 
 first founder, but onely to tole softly, there are 
 two even rowes of Ivory pegs (like pales) set to 
 keep it in. The eares are two Musique roomes
 
 28 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The into which as well good sounds as bad, descend 
 h"^H downe two narrow paire of staires, that for all 
 the world have crooked windings like those that 
 lead to the top of Powles steeple ; and, because 
 when the tunes are once gotten in, they should 
 not too quickly slip out, all the walles of both 
 places are plaistered with yellow wax round 
 about them. Now, as the fairest lodging, tho 
 it be furnisht with walles, chimnies, chambers, 
 and all other parts of Architecture, yet, if the 
 feeleing be wanting, it stands subject to raine, 
 and so consequently to ruine. So would this 
 goodly palace, which wee have moddeld out 
 unto you, be but a cold and bald habitation, were 
 not the top of it rarely covered. Nature ther- 
 fore has plaid the Tyler, and given it a most 
 curious covering, or (to speake more properly) 
 she has thatcht it all over, and that Thatching is 
 haire. If then thou desirest to reserve that Fee- 
 simple of wit (thy head) for thee and the lawful! 
 heires of thy body, play neither the scurvy part 
 of the Frenchman, that pluckes up all by ye 
 rootes, nor that of the spending Englishman, 
 who, to malntaine a paltry warren of unprofitable 
 Conies, disimparkes the stately swift-footed wild 
 Deere : But let thine receive his full growth, 
 that thou maiest safely and wisely brag 'tis thine 
 owne Bush-Natiirall. 
 
 And with all consider that, as those trees of 
 cobweblawne (woven by Spinners the fresh May- 
 mornings) doe dresse the curled heads of the 
 mountaines, and adorne the swelling bosomes of 
 the valleyes : Or, as those snowy fleeces, which 
 the naked bryer steales from the innocent nib- 
 
 t
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 29 
 
 bling sheep, to make himselfe a warm winter Long- 
 livery, are to either of them both an excellent haired 
 ornament : So make thou account, that to have "^^" 
 fethers sticking heere and there on thy head, will 
 embellish, and set thy crowne out rarely. None 
 dare upbraid thee, that like a begger thou hast 
 lyen on straw, or like a travelling Pedler upon 
 musty flockes : for those feathers will rise up as 
 witnesses to choake him that sayes so, and to 
 prove that thy bed was of the softest downe. 
 
 When / your noblest Gallants consecrate their 
 houres to their Mistresses and to RevelHng, they 
 weare fethers then chiefly in their hattes, being 
 one of the fairest ensignes of their bravery : But 
 thou, a Reveller and a Mistris-server all the 
 yeare, by wearing fethers in thy haire, whose 
 length before the rigorous edge of any puritani- 
 call paire of scizzers should shorten the breadth 
 of a finger, let the three huswifely spinsters of 
 Destiny rather curtail the thread of thy life. 
 O no, long hair is the onely nette that women 
 spread abroad to entrappe men in ; and why 
 should not men be as far above women in that 
 commodity, as they go beyond men in others ? 
 The merry Greekes were called Kapyi-^oiMomn? 
 long-haired : loose not thou (being an honest 
 Trojan) that honour, sithence it will more fairely 
 become thee. Grasse is the haire of the earth, 
 which, so long as it is suffred to grow, it be- 
 comes the wearer, and carries a most pleasing 
 colour, but when the Sunne-burnt clowne makes 
 his mowes at it, and (like a Barber) shaves it 
 off to the stumps, then it withers and is good for 
 nothing but to be trust up and thrown amongst
 
 30 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 On bald Jades. How ugly is a bald pate ? it lookes 
 heads jjjrg ^ f^ce wanting a nose ; or, like ground eaten 
 bare with the arrowes of Archers, whereas a 
 head al hid in haire gives even to a most wicked 
 face a sweet proportion, and lookes like a meddow 
 newly marryed to the Spring : which beauty in 
 men the Turkes envying, they no sooner lay 
 hold on a Christian, but the first marke they set 
 upon him, to make him know hees a slave, is to 
 shave off all his haire close to the scull. A 
 Mahometan cruelty therefore is it, to stuffe 
 breeches and tennis-balles with that, which, 
 when tis once lost, all the hare-hunters in the 
 world may sweat their hearts out, and yet 
 hardly catch it againe. 
 
 You then, to whom chastity has given an heire 
 apparant, take order that it may be apparant, and 
 to that purpose, let it play openly with the 
 lascivious wind, even on the top of your shoulders. 
 Experience cries out in every Citty, that those 
 self-same Criticall SatumistSy whose haire is 
 shorter than their eye-brows, take a pride to 
 have their hoary beards hang slavering like a 
 dozen of Foxetailes downe so low as their 
 middle. But (alas) why should the chinnes 
 and lippes of old men lick up that excrement, 
 which they violently clip away from the heads 
 of yong men ? Is it / because those long 
 beesomes (their beards) with sweeping the soft 
 bosomes of their beautiful yong wives, may 
 tickle their tender breasts, and make some 
 amends for their maisters' unrecoverable dul- 
 nesse ? No, no, there hangs more at the ends 
 of those long gray haires than all the world can
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 31 
 
 come to the knowledge of. Certaine I am, that Benefits 
 when none but the golden age went currant upon oblong 
 earth, it was higher treason to clip haire, then to ^^ 
 clip money : the comb and scizzers were con- 
 demned to the currying of hackneyes : he was 
 disfranchised for ever, that did but put on a 
 Barbers apron. Man, woman, and child wore 
 then haire longer then a law-suit ; every head, 
 when it stood bare or uncovered, lookt like a 
 butter-boxes nowle, having his thrumbd cap on. 
 It was free for all Nations to have shaggy pates, 
 as it is now onely for the Irishman. But since 
 this polling and shaving world crept up, locks 
 were lockt up, and haire fell to decay. Revive 
 thou therefore the old, buryed fashion, and (in 
 scorne of periwigs and sheep-shearing) keep thou 
 that quilted head-peece on continually. Long 
 haire will make thee looke dreadfully to thine 
 enemies, and manly to thy friends. It is, in 
 peace, an ornament ; in warre, a strong helmet. 
 It blunts the edge of a sword, and deads the 
 leaden thump of a bullet. In winter, it is a 
 warme night-cap, in sommer, a cooling fanne of 
 fethers. 
 
 CHAP. IIII. 
 
 How a Gallant should behave himselfe in Powles walkes. 
 
 Being weary with sailing up and downe alongst 
 these shores of Barbaria^ heere let us cast our 
 anchors, and nimbly leape to land in our coasts, 
 whose fresh aire shall be so much the more
 
 32 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The gull pleasing to us, if the Ninny hammer (whose per- 
 in St. fection we labour to set forth) have so much 
 foolish wit left him as to choose the place where 
 to sucke in : for that true humorous Gallant that 
 desires to powre himselfe into all fashions (if 
 his ambition be such to excell even Complement 
 itselfe) must as well practise to diminish his 
 walkes, as to bee various in his sallets, curious in 
 his Tobacco, or ingenious in the trussing up of 
 a new Scotch-hose : / All which vertues are 
 excellent and able to maintaine him, especially 
 if the old worme-eaten Farmer, (his father) bee 
 dead, and left him five hundred a yeare, onely 
 to keepe an Irish hobby, an Irish horse-boy, and 
 himselfe (like a gentleman). Hee therefore that 
 would strive to fashion his leggs to his silke 
 stockings, and his proud gate to his broad garters, 
 let him whiffe downe these observations ; for, if 
 he once get to walke by the booke (and I see 
 no reason but he may, as well as fight by the 
 booke) Powles may be proud of him, Will 
 Clarke shall ring forth Encomiums in his honour, 
 John in Powles Church-yard, shall fit his head 
 for an excellent blocke, whilest all the Innes of 
 Court rejoice to behold his most hansome calfe. 
 Your Mediterranean He, is then the onely 
 gallery, wherein the pictures of all your true 
 fashionate and complementall Guls are, and 
 ought to be hung up : into that gallery carry 
 your neat body, but take heede you pick out 
 such an hour, when the maine Shoale of Ilanders 
 are swimming up and downe. And first observe 
 your doores of entrance, and your Exit, not 
 much unlike the plaiers at the Theaters, keeping
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 33 
 
 your Decorums, even in phantasticality. As for The 
 example : if you prove to be a Northerne serving 
 Gentleman, I would wish you to passe through "^3^'s log 
 the North doore, more often (especially) then 
 any of the other : and so, according to your 
 countries, take note of your entrances. ^i^'V'^^ 
 
 Now for your venturing into the Walke, be I , -.• 
 circumspect and wary what piller you come in 
 at, and take heede in any case (as you love the 
 reputation of your honour) that you avoide the 
 Serving-mans log, and approch not within five 
 fadom of that Piller ; but bend your course 
 directly in the middle line, that the whole body 
 of the Church may appeare to be yours ; where, 
 in view of all, you may publish your suit in what 
 manner you affect most, either with the slide of 
 your cloake from the one shoulder, and then 
 you must (as twere in anger) suddenly snatch at 
 the middle of the inside (if it be tatfata at the 
 least) and so by that meanes your costly lining is 
 betrayd, or else by the pretty advantage of Com- 
 plement. But one note by the way do I 
 especially wooe you to, the neglect of which 
 makes many of our Gallants cheape and ordinary, 
 that by no meanes you be seene above foure 
 turnes ; but in the fift make your selfe away, 
 either in some of the /' Sempsters' shops, the 
 new Tobacco-office, or amongst the Booke- 
 sellers, where, if you cannot reade, exercise 
 your smoake, and inquire who has writ against 
 this divine weede &c. For this withdrawing 
 your selfe a little, will much benefite your suit, 
 which else, by too long walking, would be 
 stale to the whole spectators : but howsoever if 
 c
 
 34 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The gull Powles Jacks bee once up with their elbowes, 
 °^ ^ H h ^^^ quarrelling to strike eleven, as soone as ever 
 friends ^^^ clock has parted them, and ended the fray 
 with his hammer, let not the Dukes gallery con- 
 teyne you any longer, but passe away apace in 
 open view. In which departure, if by chance 
 you either encounter, or aloofe off throw your 
 inquisitive eye upon any knight or Squire, being 
 your familiar, salute him not bv his name of Sir 
 such a one, or so, but call him AW, or Jack, &c. 
 This will set off your estimation with great men : 
 and if (tho there be a dozen companies betweene 
 you, tis the better) bee call aloud to you (for 
 thats most gentile), to know where he shall find 
 you at two a clock, tell him at such an Ordinary, 
 or such, and bee sure to name those that are 
 deerest : and whither none but your Gallants 
 resort. After dinner you may appeare againe, 
 having translated yourselfe out of your English 
 cloth cloak, into a light Turky-grogram) if you 
 have that happinesse of shifting) and then be 
 seene (for a turne or two) to correct your teeth 
 with some quill or silver instrument, and to cleanse 
 your gummes with a wrought handkercher : It 
 skilles not whether you dined or no (thats best 
 knowne to your stomach) or in what place you 
 dined, though it were with cheese, (of your owne 
 mother's making) in your chamber or study. 
 
 Now if you chance to be a Gallant not much 
 crost among Citizens, that is, a Gallant in the 
 Mercers bookes, exalted for Sattens and velvets, 
 if you be not so much blest to bee crost Cas I 
 hold it the greatest blessing in the world, to bee 
 great in no mans bookes) your Powles walke is
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 35 
 
 your onely refuge : the Dukes Tomb is a Sanctu- How to 
 ary, and wil keepe you alive from wormes and cozen 
 land-rattes, that long to be feeding on your QQigg' 
 carkas : there you may spend your legs in winter 
 a whole after-noone : converse, plot, laugh, and 
 talke any thing, jest at your Creditor, even to 
 his face, and in the evening, even by lamp-light, 
 steale out, and so cozen a whole covy of 
 abhominable catch-pols. Never / be seene to 
 mount the steppes into the quire, but upon a high 
 Festivall day, to preferre the fashion of your 
 doublet, and especially if the singing-boyes seeme 
 to take note of you : for they are able to buzze 
 your praises above their Anthems^ if their voyces 
 have not lost their maidenheads : but be sure 
 your silver spurres dog your heeles, and then the 
 Boyes will swarme about you like so many white 
 butter-flyes, when you in the open Quire shall 
 drawe forth a perfumed embrodred purse (the 
 glorious sight of which will entice many Country- 
 men from their devotion to wondering) and 
 quoyt silver into the Boyes handes, that it may 
 be heard above the first lesson, although it be 
 reade in a voyce as big as one of the great 
 Organs. 
 
 This noble and notable Act being performed, 
 you are to vanish presently out of the Quire, and 
 to appeare againe in the walk : But in any wise 
 be not observed to tread there long alone : for 
 feare you be suspected to be a Gallant casheerd 
 from the society of Captens and Fighters. 
 
 Sucke this humour up especially. Put off to 
 none, unlesse his hatband be of a newer fashion 
 then yours, and three degrees quainter ; but lor
 
 36 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 Duke him that weares a trebled cipers about his hatte, 
 ^""?' (though he were an Aldermans sonne) never 
 Walk "^O'*^ ^o him : for hees suspected to be worse 
 then a Gull, and not worth the putting off to, 
 that cannot observe the time of his hatband, nor 
 know what fashioned block is most kin to his 
 head : for, in my opinion, ye braine that cannot 
 choose his Felt well (being the head ornament) 
 must needes powre folly into all the rest of the 
 members, and be an absolute confirmed Foole in 
 Summd Total'i. 
 
 All the diseased horses in a tedious siege can- 
 not shew so many fashions, as are to be scene 
 for nothing, every day, in Duke Humfryes ivalke. 
 If therefore you determine to enter into a new 
 suit, warne your Tailor to attend you in Powles, 
 who, with his hat in his hand, shall like a spy 
 discover the stuffe, colour, and fashion of any 
 doublet, or hose that dare be scene there, and 
 stepping behind a piller to fill his table-bookes 
 with those notes, will presently send you into 
 the world an accomplish! man : by which meanes 
 you shall weare your clothes in print with the 
 first edition. But / if Fortune favour you so 
 much as to make you no more then a meere 
 country gentleman, or but some three degrees 
 removd from him, (for which I should be very 
 sorie, because your London-experience wil cost 
 you deere before you shall have the wit to know 
 what you are) then take this lesson along with 
 you : The first time that you venture into Powles, 
 passe through the body of the Church like a 
 Porter, yet presume not to fetch so much as one 
 whole turne in the middle He, no nor to cast an
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 37 
 
 eye to Si quis doore, (pasted and plaistered up St. Paul' 
 with Serving-mens supplications) before you have steeple 
 paid tribute to the top of Powles steeple with a 
 single penny : And when you are mounted there, 
 take heede how you looke downe into the yard ; 
 for the railes are as rotten as your great-Grand- 
 father ; and thereupon it will not be amisse if 
 you enquire how Kit Woodroffe durst vault over, 
 and what reason he had for it, to put his necke 
 in hazard of reparations. From hence you may 
 descend, to talke about the horse that went up, 
 and strive, if you can, to know his keeper : take 
 the day of the Moneth, and the number of the 
 steppes, and suffer yourselfe to believe verily 
 that it was not a horse, but something else in the 
 likenesse of one : which wonders you may 
 publish, when you returne into the country, to 
 the great amazement of all Farmers Daughters, 
 that will almost swound at the report, and never 
 recover till their banes bee asked twice in the 
 Church. 
 
 But I have not left you yet. Before you 
 come downe againe, I would desire you to draw 
 your knife, and grave your name (or, for want 
 of a name, the marke, which you clap on your 
 sheep) in great Characters upon the leades, by a 
 number of your brethren (both Citizens ana 
 country Gentlemen) and so you shall be sure to 
 have your name lye in a coffin of lead, when 
 yourselfe shall be wrapt in a winding-sheete : 
 and indeed the top of Powles conteins more 
 names than Sto'wes Chronicle. These lofty 
 tricks being plaid, and you (thanks to your 
 feete) being safely arived at the staires foote 
 
 3 
 
 67574
 
 38 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 Sir Philip agalne, your next worthy worke is, to repaire to 
 Sidney's j^iy lord Chancellors Tomb (and, if you can but 
 cpi 2.p reasonably spel) bestow some time upon the read- 
 ing of Sir Phillip Sydney s briefe Epitaph ; in the 
 campasse of an houre you may make shift to 
 stumble it out. The great dyal is, your last 
 monument : there bestow / some halfe of the 
 threescore minutes, to observe the sawciness of 
 the Jaikes that are above the man in the moone 
 there ; the strangenesse of the motion will quit 
 your labour. Besides, you may heere have fit 
 occasion to discover your watch, by taking it 
 forth, and setting the wheeles to the time of 
 Powles, which, I assure you, goes truer by five 
 notes then S. Sepulchers Chimes. The benefit 
 that wil arise from hence is this, that you publish 
 your charge in maintaining a gilded clocke ; and 
 withall the world shall know that you are a 
 time-pleaser. By this I imagine you have 
 walkt your belly ful, and thereupon being weary, 
 or (which rather I beleeve) being most Gentle- 
 manlike hungry, it is fit that I brought you into 
 the Duke ; so (because he followes the fashion 
 of great men, in keeping no house, and that 
 therefore you must go seeke your dinner) suffer 
 me to take you by the hand, and lead you into 
 an Ordinary.
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 39 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 How a yong Gallant should behave himselfe in 
 an Ordinary. 
 
 First, having diligently enquired out an Ordinary The 
 ot the largest reckoning, whither most of your gallant 
 Courtly Gallants do resort, let it be your use to ^"^ ^^^ 
 vepaire thither some halfe houre after eleven ; ^"^^^ 
 for then you shall find most of your fashion- 
 mongers planted in the roome waiting for meate. 
 Ride thither upon your galloway-nag, or your 
 Spanish Jennet, a swift ambling pace, in your 
 hose, and doublet (gilt rapier and poniard be- 
 stowd in their places) and your French Lackey 
 carrying your cloake, and running before you ; 
 or rather in a coach, for that will both hide you 
 from the basiliske-eyes of your creditors, and 
 outrun a whole kenneli of bitter-mouthed 
 Sergeants. 
 
 Being arrived in«the roome, salute not any but 
 those of your acquaintance : walke up and downe 
 by the rest as scornfully and as carelesly as a 
 Gentleman-Usher : Select some friend (having 
 first throwne off your cloake) to walke up and 
 downe the room with you, let him be suited if 
 you can, worse by farre then your selfe, he will 
 be a foyle to you: and this will be a meanes to 
 publish your clothes better than Powles, a 
 Tennis-court, or a Playhouse : discourse as lowd 
 as you can, no matter to what purpose if you but 
 make a noise, and laugh in fashion, and have a
 
 40 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The con- good sower face to promise quarrelling, you shall 
 
 ^"^S^-^ ^ ^^^ much observed. 
 so ler -^^ y^^ ^g ^ souldier, talke how often you have 
 beene in action : as the Port'wgale voyage, Cales 
 voiage, the I/and voiage, besides some eight or 
 nine imploiments in Ireland, and the Low 
 Countries : then you may discourse how honour- 
 ably your Grave used you ; observe that you 
 cal Grave Maurice, your Grave : How often 
 you have drunk with Count such a one, and 
 such a Count on your knees to your Graves 
 health : and let it bee your vertue to give place 
 neither to S. Kynock, nor to any Dutchman what- 
 soever in the seventeene provinces, for that 
 Souldiers complement of drinking. And if you 
 perceive that the untravelld company about you 
 take this downe well, ply them with more such 
 stufFe, as how you have interpreted betweene the 
 French King and a great Lord of Barbary, 
 when they have been drinking healthes together, 
 and that will be an excellent occasion to publish 
 your languages, if you have them : if not, get 
 some fragments of French, or smal parcels of 
 Italian, to fling about the table : but beware how 
 you speake any Latine there : your Ordinary most 
 commonly hath no more to do with Latine then 
 a desperate towne of Garison hath. 
 
 If you be a Courtier, discourse of the obtain- 
 ing of Suits : of your mistresses favours, etc. 
 Make inquiry, if any gentleman at boord have 
 any suit, to get which he would use ye good 
 means of a great mans Interest with the King : 
 and withall (if you have not so much grace left 
 in you as to blush) that you are (thankes to your
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 41 
 
 starres) in mightie credit, though in your ov/ne of a 
 conscience you know, and are guilty to your courtier 
 selfe, that you dare not (but onely upon the f'^ofv 
 priviledges of hansome clothes) presume to peepe 
 into the presence. Demand if there be any 
 Gentleman (whom any there is acquainted with) 
 that is troubled with two offices ; or any Vicar 
 with two Church-livings ; which will politickly 
 insinuate, that your inquiry after them is because 
 you have good meanes to obtaine them ; yea and 
 rather then your tongue should not be heard in 
 the roome, but that you should sit (like / an 
 Asse) with your finger in your mouth, and 
 speake nothing : discourse how often this Lady 
 hath sent her Coach for you ; and how often 
 you have sweat in the Tennis-court with that 
 great Lord: for indeede the sweting together in 
 Fraunce (I mean the society of Tennis) is a 
 great argument of most deere affection, even 
 between noblemen and Pesants. 
 
 If you be a Poet, and come into the Ordinary 
 (though it can be no great glory to be an 
 ordinary Poet) order yourselfe thus. Observe 
 no man, doff not cap to that Gentleman to day 
 at dinner, to whom, not two nights since, you 
 were beholden for a supper ; but, after a turne 
 or two in the roome, take occasion (pulling out 
 your gloves) to have some Epigram^ or Satyre^ 
 or Sonnet fastned in one of them, that may (as 
 it were vomittingly to you) offer it selfe to the 
 Gentlemen : they will presently desire it : but, 
 without much conjuration from them, and a 
 pretty kind of counterfet loathnes in yourselfe, 
 do not read it ; and though it be none of your
 
 42 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 How to owne, sweare you made it. Mary, if you 
 earn a chaunce to get into your hands any witty thing 
 dinner q£ another mans, that is somewhat better, I 
 would councell you then, if demand bee made 
 who composed it, you may say : faith, a learned 
 Gentleman, a very worthy friend. And this 
 seeming to lay it on another man will be counted 
 either modestie in you, or a signe that you are 
 not ambitious of praise, or else that you dare 
 not take it upon you, for feare of the sharpnesse 
 it carries with it. Besides, it will adde much 
 to your fame to let your tongue walke faster 
 then your teeth, though you be never so hungry, 
 and, rather then you should sit like a dumb 
 Coxcomb, to repeat by heart either some verses 
 of your owne, or of any other mans, stretching 
 even very good lines upon the rack of the 
 censure : though it be against all law, honestie, 
 or conscience, it may chaunce save you the 
 price of your Ordinary, and beget you other 
 Suppliments. Mary, I would further intreat our 
 Poet to be in league with the Mistresse of the 
 Ordinary, because from her (upon condition that 
 he will but ryme knights and yong gentlemen to 
 her house, and maintaine the table in good fool- 
 ing) he may easily make up his mouth at her 
 cost. Gratis. 
 
 Thus much for particular men. But in 
 generall let all that are in Ordinary-pay, march 
 after the sound of these directions. Before / 
 the meate come smoaking to the board, our 
 Gallant must draw out his Tobacco-box, the 
 ladell for the cold snufFe into the nosthrill, the 
 tongs and prining-Iron : All which artillery may
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 43 
 
 be of gold or silver (if he can reach to the price Hew to 
 of it), it will bee a reasonable useful pawne at all behave at 
 times, when the current of his money falles out table 
 to run low. And heere you must observe to 
 know in what state Tobacco is in towne, better 
 then the Merchants, and to discourse of the 
 Apottecaries where it is to be sold and to be 
 able to speake of their wines, as readily as the 
 Apottecary himselfe reading the barbarous hand 
 of a Doctor : then let him shew his severall 
 tricks in taking it, As the Whiffe^ the Ring^ etc. 
 For these are complements that gaine Gentle- 
 men no mean respect and for which indeede 
 they are more worthily noted, I ensure you, 
 then for any skill that they have in learning. 
 
 When you are set downe to dinner, you must 
 eate as impudently as can be (for thats most 
 Gentlemanlike) when your Knight is upon his 
 stewed mutton, be presently, though you be but 
 a capten, in the bosom^e of your goose : and 
 when your Justice of peace is knuckle-deep in 
 goose, you may, without disparagement to your 
 bloud, though you have a Lady to your mother, 
 fall very manfully to your woodcocks. 
 
 You may rise in dinner-time to aske for a 
 close-stoole, protesting to all the gentlemen that 
 it costs you a hundred pounds a yeare in phy- 
 sicke, besides the Annual pension which your 
 wife allowes her Doctor: and (if you please) 
 you may (as your great French Lord doth) 
 invite some speciall friend of yours, from the 
 table, to hold discourse with you as you sit in 
 that withdrawing-chamber : from whence being 
 returned againe to the board, you shall sharpen
 
 44 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 A severe the wits of all the eating Gallants about you, 
 critic ^jj(j jQg them great pleasure, to aske what 
 Pamphlets or poems a man might think fittest 
 to wipe his taile with (mary, this talke will be 
 somewhat fowle if you carry not a strong per- 
 fume about you) and, in propounding this 
 question, you may abuse the workes of any 
 man ; deprave his writings that you cannot 
 equall, and purchase to your selfe in time the 
 terrible name of a severe Criticke ; nay, and be 
 one of the Colledge, if youle be liberall inough : 
 and (when your turn comes) pay for their 
 suppers. 
 
 After / dinner, every man as his busines 
 leades him : some to dice, some to drabs, some 
 to playes, some to take up friends in the Court, 
 some to take up money in the Citty, some to 
 lende testers in Powles, others to borrow 
 crownes upon the Exchange : and ttus, as the 
 people is sayd to bee a beast of many heads (yet 
 all those heads like Hydraes) ever growing, as 
 various in their homes as wondrous in their 
 budding and branching, so, in an Ordinary, you 
 shall find the variety of a whole kingdome in a 
 few Apes of the kingdome. 
 
 You must not sweare in your dicing : for that 
 Argues a violent impatience to depart from your 
 money, and in time will betray a mans neede. 
 Take heede of it. No ! whether you be at 
 Primero, or Hazard, you shall sit as patiently 
 (though you lose a whole halfe-yeares exhibi- 
 tion) as a disarmd Gentleman does when hees 
 in the unmerciful fingers of Serjeants. Mary, I 
 will allow you to sweat privatly, and teare six
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 45 
 
 or seven score paire of cards, be the damnation Various 
 of some dozen or twenty baile of dice, and for- kinds of 
 sweare play a thousand times in an houre, but ordinary 
 not sweare. Dice your selfe into your shirt : 
 and, if you have a beard that your frind wil lend 
 but an angell upon, shave it off, and pawne that, 
 rather then to goe home blinde to your lodging. 
 Further, it is to be remembred, He that is a 
 great Gamester may be trusted for a quarters 
 board at all times, and apparell provided, if 
 neede be. 
 
 At your twelvepennny Ordinary, you may 
 give any Justice of peace, or yong Knight (if he 
 sit but one degree towards the Equinoctial! of 
 the Salt-seller) leave to pay for the wine : and 
 hee shall not refuse it, though it be a weeke 
 before the receiving of his quarters rent, which 
 is a time albeit of good hope, yet of present 
 necessity. 
 
 There is another Ordinary, to which your 
 London Usurer, your stale Batchilor, and your 
 thrifty Atturney do resort : the price three 
 pence : the roomes as full of company as a Jaile, 
 and indeed divided into severall wards, like the 
 beds of an Hospital. The complement betweene 
 these is not much, their words few : for the 
 belly hath no eares : every mans eie heere k 
 upon the other mans trencher, to note whether 
 his fellow lurch him, or no : if they chaunce to 
 discourse, it is of nothing but of Statutes, Bonds, 
 I Recognizances, Fines, Recoveries, Audits, Rents, 
 Subsidies, Surties, In closures. Liveries, Indite- 
 ments, Outlaries, FeoJ^ments, Judgments, Commis- 
 sions, Bankerouts, Amercements, and of such
 
 46 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 What he horrible matter, that when a Liftenant dines 
 fh^^K ^f ^"^^^^ ^^^ punck in the next roome, he think.es 
 ordinary "^^^^^7 ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ conjuring. I can find nothing 
 at this Ordinary worthy the sitting downe for : 
 therefore the cloth shall be taken away, and 
 those that are thought good enough to be guests 
 heere, sh^Ii be too base to bee waiters at your 
 Grand Ordinary ; at which your Gallant tastes 
 these commodities. He shall fare wel, enjoy 
 good company, receive all the newes ere the 
 post can deliver his packet, be perfect where the 
 best bawdy-houses stand, proclaime his good 
 clothes, know this man to drinke well, that to 
 feed grosly, the other to swaggar roughly : he 
 shall, if hee be minded to travell, put out money 
 upon his returne, and have hands enough to 
 receive it upon any termes of repaiment ; And 
 no question, if he be poore, he shall now and 
 then light upon some Gu/I or other, whom he 
 may skelder (after the gentile fashion) of 
 mony : By this time the parings of Fruit and 
 Cheese are in the voyder, Cards and dice lie 
 stinking in the fire, the guests are all up, the 
 guilt rapiers ready to be hangd, the French 
 Lackquey, and Irish Footeboy, shrugging at 
 the doores, with their masters hobby-horses, to 
 ride to the new play : thats the Randevous : 
 thither they are gallopt in post. Let us take a 
 paire of Cares, and now lustily after them.
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 47 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 How a Gallant should behave himself in 
 a Play-house. 
 
 The theater is your Poets Royal Exchange, The 
 upon which their Muses, (yt are now turnd to poets' 
 Merchants,) meeting, barter away that light ^ojal 
 commodity of words for a lighter ware then pijans-c 
 words, Plaudltes, and the breath of the great 
 Beast; v/hich (like the threatnings of two 
 Cowards) vanish all into air. Platers and their 
 Factors, who put away the stufFe, and make the 
 best of it they possibly can (as indeed tis their 
 parts so to doe) your / Gallant, your Courtier, 
 and your Capten had wont to be the soundest 
 paymaisters ; and I thinke are still the surest 
 chapmen : and these, by meanes that their heades 
 are well stockt, deale upon this comical freight 
 by the grosse : when your Groundling, and 
 gallery-Commoner buyes his sport by the penny, 
 and, like a Hagier, is glad to utter it againe by 
 retailing. 
 
 Sithence then the place is so free in entertain- 
 ment, allowing a stoole as well to the Farmers 
 Sonne as to your Templer : that your Stinkard 
 has the selfe-same libertie to be there in his 
 Tobacco-Fumes, which your sweet Courtier 
 hath : and that your Car-man and Tinker 
 claime as strong a voice in their suffrage, and sit 
 to give judgment on the plaies life and death, as 
 well as theprowdest Momus among the tribe [^sj
 
 48 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The gull of Critlck : It is fit that bee, whom the most 
 must sit tailors bils do make roome for, when he comes, 
 on the should not be basely (like a vyoll) casd up in a 
 corner. 
 
 Whether therefore the gatherers of the pub- 
 lique or private Play-house stand to receive the 
 afternoones rent, let our Gallant (having paid 
 it) presently advance himselfe up to the Throne 
 of the Stage. I meane not into the Lords 
 roome (which is now but the Stages Suburbs) : 
 No, those boxes, by the iniquity of custome, 
 conspiracy of waiting-women and Gentlemen- 
 Ushers, that there sweat together, and the 
 covetousnes of Sharers, are contemptibly thrust 
 into the reare, and much new Satten is there 
 dambd, by being smothred to death in darknesse. 
 But on the very Rushes where the Comedy is 
 to daunce, yea, and under the state of Cambises 
 himselfe must our fethered Estridge, like a piece 
 of Ordnance, be planted valiantly (because im- 
 pudently) beating downe the mewes and hisses 
 of the opposed rascality. 
 
 For do but cast up a reckoning, what large 
 cummings-in are pursd up by sitting on the 
 Stage. First a conspicuous Eminence is gotten ; 
 by which meanes, the best and most essenciall 
 parts of a Gallant (good cloathes, a proportion- 
 able legge, white hand, the Persian lock, and a 
 tollerable beard) are perfectly revealed. 
 
 Bv sitting on the stage, you have a signd 
 patent to engrosse the whole commodity of 
 Censure ; may lawfully presume to be a Girder ; 
 and stand at the helme to steere the passage of 
 scenes ; yet / no man shall once offer to hinder
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 49 
 
 you from obtaining the title of an insolent, over- Advan- 
 weening Coxcombe. tages of 
 
 By sitting on the stage, you may (without ^/^^"\^ °" 
 travelHng for it) at the very next doore aske 
 whose play it is : and, by that Quest of Inquiry, 
 the law warrants you to avoid much mistaking : 
 if you know not ye author, you may raile against 
 him : and peradventure so behave your selfe, 
 that you may enforce the Author to know 
 you. 
 
 By sitting on the stage, if you be a Knight, 
 you may happily get you a Mistress : if a mere 
 Fleet-street Gentleman, a wife : but assure your- 
 selfe, by continuall residence, you are the first 
 and principall man in election to begin the 
 number of We three. 
 
 By spreading your body on the stage, and by 
 being a Justice in examining of plaies, you shall 
 put your selfe into such true scanical authority, 
 that some Poet shall not dare to present his 
 Muse rudely upon your eyes, without having 
 first unmaskt her, rifled her, and discovered all 
 her bare and most mysticall parts before you at 
 a taverne, when you most knightly shal, for his 
 paines, pay for both their suppers. 
 
 By sitting on the stage, you may (with small 
 cost) purchase the deere acquaintance of the 
 boys : have a good stoole for sixpence : at any 
 time know what particular part any of the infants 
 present : get your match lighted, examine the 
 play-suits lace, and perhaps win wagers upon 
 laying 'tis copper, &c. And to conclude, 
 whether you be a foole or a Justice of peace, a 
 Cuckold, or a Capten, a Lord-Mayors sonne, or 
 
 D
 
 50 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The time a dawcocke, a knave, or an under- Sherife ; of 
 to go -vvhat stamp soever you be, currant, or counterfet, 
 
 ^^°^a e ^^^ Stage, like time, will bring you to most 
 perfect light and lay you open : neither are you 
 to be hunted from thence, though the Scarecrows 
 in the yard hoot at you, hisse at you, spit at 
 you, yea, throw durt even in your teeth : 'tis 
 most Gentlemanlike patience to endure all this, 
 and to laugh at the silly Animals : but if the 
 Rabble, with a full throat, crie, away with the 
 foole, you were worse then a madman to tarry 
 by it : for the Gentleman, and the foole should 
 never sit on the Stage together. 
 
 Mary, let this observation go hand in hand 
 with the rest : or rather, like a country-serving- 
 man, some five yards before them. Present / 
 not your selfe on the Stage (especially at a new 
 play) untill the quaking prologue hath (by rub- 
 bing) got culor into his cheekes, and is ready to 
 give the trumpets their Cue, that hees upon point 
 to enter : for then it is time, as though you were 
 one of the properties, or that you dropt out of 
 ye Hangings, to creepe from behind the Arras, 
 with your Tripos or three-footed stoole in one 
 hand, and a teston mounted betweene a forefinger 
 and a thumbe in the other : for if you should 
 bestow your person upon the vulgar, when the 
 belly of the house is but halfe full, your apparell 
 is quite eaten up, the fashion lost, and the pro- 
 portion of your body in more danger to be de- 
 voured then if it were served up in the Counter 
 amongst the Powltry : avoid that as you would 
 the Bastome. It shall crowne you with rich 
 commendation, tt) laugh alowd in the middest of
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 51 
 
 the most serious and saddest scene of the terri- Advan- 
 
 blest Tragedy : and to let that clapper (your ^S^s of 
 
 tongue) be tost so high, that all the house may „f!fl?„^^ 
 . ^ / . T J • Tr • 1 -^ nuisance 
 
 rmg or it : your L-ords use it ; your Knights 
 
 are Apes to the Lords, and do so too : your 
 Inne-a-court-man is Zany to the Knights, and 
 (mary very scurvily) comes likewise limping 
 after it : bee thou a beagle to them all, and 
 never lin snuffing, till you have scented them : 
 for by talking and laughing (like a Plough-man 
 in a Morris) you heap Pe/ion upon Ossa, glory 
 upon glory : As first, all the eyes in the galleries 
 will leave walking after the Players, and onely 
 follow you : the simplest dolt in the house 
 snatches up your name, and when he meetes you 
 in the streetes, or that you fall into his hands in 
 the middle of a Watch, his word shall be taken 
 for you : heele cry Hees such a gallant^ and you 
 passe. Secondly, you publish your temperance 
 to the world, in that you seeme not to resort 
 thither to taste vaine pleasures with a hungrie 
 appetite : but onely as a Gentleman to spend a 
 foolish houre or two, because you can doe 
 nothing else : Thirdly, you mightily disrelish 
 the Audience, and disgrace the Author : marry, 
 you take up (though it be at the worst hand) a 
 strong opinion of your owne judgement, and in- 
 force the Poet to take pity of your weakenesse, 
 and, by some dedicated sonnet, to bring you into 
 a better paradice, onely to stop your mouth. 
 
 If you can (either for love or money) pro- 
 vide your selfe a lodging by the water-side : 
 for, above the convenience it brings to / shun 
 Shoulder-clapping, and to ship aU'ay your Cock-
 
 52 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 How to atrice betimes in the morning, it addes a kind of 
 treat state unto you, to be carried from thence to the 
 water- gtaires of your Play-house : hate a Sculler 
 (remember that) worse then to be acquainted 
 with one o' th' Scullery. No, your Oares are 
 your onely Sea-crabs, boord them, and take 
 heed you never go twice together with one 
 paire : often shifting is a great credit to Gentle- 
 men ; and that dividing of your fare wil make 
 the poore watersnaks be ready to pul you in 
 peeces to enjoy your custome: No matter 
 whether upon landing, you have money or no : 
 you may swim in twentie of their boates over 
 the river upon Ticket : marry, when silver comes 
 in, remember to pay treble their fare, and it will 
 make your Flounder-catchers to send more 
 thankes after you, when you doe not draw, then 
 when you doe ; for they know. It will be their 
 owne another daie. 
 
 Before the Play begins, fall to cardes : you 
 may win or loose (as Fencers doe in a prize) and 
 beate one another by confederacie, yet share the 
 money when you meete at supper : notwith- 
 standing, to gul the Raggamuffins that stand 
 aloofe gaping at you, throw the cards (having 
 first torne foure or five of them) round about the 
 Stage, just upon the third sound, as though you 
 had lost : it skils not if the foure knaves ly on 
 their backs, and outface the Audience ; theres 
 none such fooles as dare take exceptions at 
 them, because, ere the play go off, better knaves 
 than they will fall into the company. 
 
 Now sir, if the writer be a fellow that hath 
 either epigrammed you, or hath had a flirt at your
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 53 
 
 mistris, or hath brought either your feather, or How to 
 your red beard, or your little legs &c. on the be re- 
 stage, you shall disgrace him worse then by^^^S^don 
 tossing him in a blancket, or giving him the ^^i?.^^ 
 bastinado in a Taverne, if, in the middle of his 
 play, (bee it Pastoral or Comedy, Morall or 
 Tragedie) you rise with a screwd and discon- 
 tented face from your stoole to be gone : no 
 matter whether the Scenes be good or no ; the 
 better they are the worse do you distast them : 
 and, beeing on your feet, sneake not away like 
 a coward, but salute all your gentle acquaintance, 
 that are spred either on the rushes, or on stooles 
 about you, and draw what troope you can from 
 the stage after you : the Mimic ks are beholden 
 to you, for allowing them / elbow roome : their 
 Poet cries, perhaps, a pox go with you, but care 
 not for that, theres no musick without frets. 
 
 Mary, if either the company, or indisposition 
 of the weather binde you to sit it out, my coun- 
 sell is then that you turne plain Ape, take up a 
 rush, and tickle the earnest eares of your fellow 
 gallants, to make other fooles fall a laughing : 
 mewe at passionate speeches, blare at merrie, 
 fmde fault with the musicke, whew at the 
 childrens Action, whistle at the songs : and 
 above all, curse the sharers, that whereas the 
 same day you had bestowed forty shillings on an 
 embrodered Felt and Feather, (Scotch-fashion) 
 for your mistres in the Court, or your punck in 
 the city, within two houres after, you encounter 
 with the very same block on the stage, when the 
 haberdasher swore to you the impression was 
 extant but that morning.
 
 54 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 Hoard up To conclude, hoard up the finest play-scraps 
 the play- y^^ ^^^ g^^.^ upon which your leane wit may 
 ^ most favourly feede, for want of other stufFe, 
 when the Arcadian and Euphuized gentlewomen 
 have their tongues sharpened to set upon you : 
 that qualitie (next to your shittlecocke) is the 
 onely furniture to a Courtier thats but a new be- 
 ginner, and is but in his A B C of complement. 
 The next places that are filled, after the Play- 
 houses bee emptied, are (or ought to be) 
 Tavernes : into a Taverne then let us next march, 
 where the braines of one Hogshead must be 
 beaten out to make up another. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 How a Gallant should behave himself in a Taverne. 
 
 Whosoever desires to bee a man of good reck- 
 oning in the Cittie, and (like your French Lord) 
 to have as many tables furnisht as Lackies (who, 
 when they keepe least, keepe none) whether he 
 be a yong Quat of the first yeeres revennew, or 
 some austere and sullen-faced steward, who (in 
 despight of a great beard, a satten suite, and a 
 chaine of gold wrapt in cipers) proclaimes him- 
 selfe to any (but to those to whom his Lord 
 owes money) for a ranck coxcombe, or whether 
 he be a country gentleman, that brings his / wife 
 up to learne the fashion, see the Tombs at West- 
 minster, the Lyons in the Tower, or to take 
 physicke ; or else is some yong Farmer, who 
 many times makes his wife (in the country)
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 55 
 
 beleeve he hath suits in law, because he will The 
 come up to his letchery : be he of what stamp rendez- 
 he will that hath money in his purse, and a good UQQni* 
 conscience to spend it, my councell is that hee company 
 take his continuall diet at a Taverne, which (out 
 of question) is the onely Rendezvous of boone 
 company ; and the Drawers the most nimble, 
 the most bold, and most sudden proclaimers of 
 your largest bounty. 
 
 Having therefore thrust your selfe into a case 
 most in fashion (how course soever the stuffe be, 
 tis no matter so it hold fashion) your office is 
 (if you meane to do your judgment right) to en- 
 quire out those Tavernes which are best customd, 
 whose maisters are oftenest drunk, (for that con- 
 firmes their taste, and that they choose wholesome 
 wines) and such as stand furthest from ye coun- 
 ters ; where, landing yourself and your followers, 
 your first complement shall be to grow most in- 
 wardly acquainted with the drawers, to learne 
 their names, as Jack, and Will, and Tow, to dive 
 into their inclinations, as whether this fellow 
 useth to the Fencing Schoole, this to the 
 Dauncing Schoole ; whether, that yong con- 
 jurer (in Hogsheads) at midnight keepes a 
 Gelding now and then to visit his Cockatrice, 
 or whether he love dogs, or be addicted to any 
 other eminent and Citizen-like quality : and 
 protest your selfe to be extreamely in love, 
 and that you spend much money in a yeare, 
 upon any one of those exercises which you per- 
 ceive is followed by them. The use which you 
 shall make of this familiarity is this : If you want 
 money five or six dales together, you may still
 
 S6 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 How to pay the reckoning with this most Gentlemanlike 
 ^^A ^t ^^ng^^g^) Boy^ fetch me money from the harre^ and 
 keepe yourself most providently from a hungry 
 melancholy in your chamber. Besides, you shal 
 be sure (if there be but one fawcet that can 
 betray neate wine to the barre) to have that 
 arraigned before you, sooner then a better and 
 worthier person. 
 
 The first question you are to make (after the 
 discharging of your pocket of Tobacco and 
 pipes, and the houshold stuffe thereto belonging) 
 shall be for an inventorie of the Kitchen : for it 
 were / more then most Tailor-like, and to be 
 suspected you were in league with some Kitchen- 
 wench, to descend your selfe, to offend your 
 stomach with the sight of the Larder, and 
 happily to grease your Accoustrements. Having 
 therefore received this bill, you shall (like a 
 capten putting up deere paies) have many Sallads 
 stand on your table, as it were for blankes to the 
 other more serviceable dishes : and according to 
 the time of the yeare, vary your fare, as Capon 
 is a stirring meate sometime. Oysters are a 
 swelling meate sometimes, Trowt a tickling 
 meate sometimes, greene Goose, and Woodcock, 
 a delicate meate sometimes, especially in a 
 Taverne, where you shall sit in as great state 
 as a Church-warden amongst his poore Par- 
 ishioners, at Pentecost or Christmas, 
 
 For your drinke, let not your Physitian con- 
 fine you to any one particular liquor : for as it 
 is requisite that a Gentleman should not alwaies 
 be plodding in one Art, but rather bee a generall 
 Scholler, (that is, to have a licke at all sorts of
 
 THE GULS HORN BOOKE 57 
 
 learning, and away) so tis not fitting a man What to 
 should trouble his head with sucking at one discourse 
 Grape, but that he may be able (now there is a ?^^ 
 generall peace) to drink any stranger drunke in 
 his owne element of drinke, or more properly in 
 his owne mist language. 
 
 Your discourse at the table must be such as 
 that which you utter at your Ordinary : your 
 behaviour the same, but somewhat more care- 
 lesse : for where your expence is great, let your 
 modesty be lesse : and, though you should be 
 mad in a Taverne, the largeness of the lUms 
 will beare with your incivility : you may, with- 
 out prick to your conscience, set the want of 
 your wit against the superfluity and sauciness of 
 their reckonings. 
 
 If you desire not to be haunted with Fidlers 
 (who by the statute have as much libertie as 
 Roagues to travel into any place, having the 
 pasport of the house about them) bring then no 
 women along with you : but if you love the 
 company of all the drawers, never sup without 
 your Cockatrice : for, having her there, you 
 shall be sure of most ofRcious attendance. 
 Enquire what Gallants sup in the next roome, 
 and if they be any of your acquaintance, do not 
 you (after the City fashion) send them in a 
 pottle of wine ; and your name, sweetned in two 
 pittiful papers of Suger, with some filthy Apology 
 cramd into the mouth of / a drawer ; but rather 
 keepe a boy in fee, who underhand shall pro- 
 claime you in every roome, what a gallant 
 fellow you are, how muck you spend yearely in 
 Tavernes, what a great gamester, what custome
 
 58 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 How to you bring to the house, in what witty discourse 
 g-et a yQu rnaintaine a table, what Gentlewomen or 
 Cittizens wives you can with a wet finger have 
 at any time to sup with you, and such like. By 
 which Encomiastic ks of his, they that know you 
 not shall admire you, and thinke themselves to 
 bee brought into a paradice but to be meanely in 
 your acquaintance ; and if any of your endeered 
 friends be in the house, and beate the same 
 Ivybush that your selfe does, you may joyne 
 companies, and bee drunke together most 
 publikly. 
 
 But in such a deluge of drinke, take heede that 
 no man counterfeit him selfe drunck, to free his 
 purse from the danger of the shot ; tis a usuall 
 thing now amongst gentlemen ; it had wont bee 
 the quality of Cocknies : I would advise you to 
 leave so much braines in your head, as to pre- 
 vent this. When the terrible Reckoning (like 
 an inditement) bids you hold up your hand, and 
 that you must answere it at the barre, you must 
 not abate one penny in any particular, no, 
 though they reckon cheese to you, when you 
 have neither eaten any, nor could ever abide it, 
 raw or toasted : but cast your eie onely upon the 
 Totalis, and no further ; for to traverse the bill 
 would betray you to be acquainted with the rates 
 of the market, nay more, it would make the 
 Vintners beleeve you were Paterfamilias, and 
 kept a house ; which, I assure you, is not now 
 in fashion. 
 
 If you fall to dice after Supper, let the 
 drawers be as familiar with you as your Barber, 
 and venture their silver amongst you ; no matter
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 59 
 
 where they had it : you are to cherish the The 
 unthriftinesse of such yong tame pigions, if you chariot of 
 be a right gentleman : for when two are yoakt Madam 
 together by the purse strings, and draw the g^j[° ^^' 
 Chariot of Madam Prodigalit'ie, when one faints 
 in the way and slips his homes, let the other 
 rejoice and laugh at him. 
 
 At your departure forth the house, to kiss 
 mine Hostess over the barre, or to accept of the 
 courtesie of the Celler when tis offered you by 
 the drawers, and you must know that kindnes 
 never creepes upon them, but when they see you 
 almost cleft to the shoulders, or to bid any of 
 the Vintners good night, is as commendable, as 
 for a Barber after trimming, to lave your face 
 with sweete water. 
 
 To conclude, count it an honour, either to 
 invite or be invited to any Rifling: for commonly, 
 though you iinde much satten there, yet you 
 shall likewise find many cittizens sonnes, and 
 heirs, and yonger brothers there, who smell out 
 such feasts more greedily then taylors hunt upon 
 sundaies after weddings. And let any hooke 
 draw you either to a Fencers supper, or to a 
 Players that acts such a part for a wager ; for 
 by this meanes you shall get experience, by 
 beeing guilty to their abhominable shaving.
 
 6o THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 How a Gallant is to behave himselfe passing 
 through the Cittie, at all houres of 
 
 "511 \.ii\- >^iiiicj aL ail uuuic 
 
 the night, and how to passe 
 by any watch. 
 
 How the After the sound of pottle-pots is out of your 
 giill must eares, and that the spirit of Wine and Tobacco 
 the street "^^^^^^ in your braine, the Taverne door being 
 shut uppon your backe, cast about to passe 
 through the widest and goodliest streetes in the 
 Cittie. And if your meanes cannot reach to the 
 keeping of a boy, hire one of the drawers, to be 
 as a lanthorne unto your feete, and to light you 
 home : and, still as you approch neere any 
 night-walker that is up as late as yourselfe curse 
 and swear (like one that speaks High Dutch) in s 
 lofty voice, because your men have used you so 
 like a rascall in not waiting upon you, and vow 
 the next morning to pull their blew cases over 
 their eares, though, if your chamber were well 
 searcht, you give onely six pence a weeke to 
 some old woman to make your bed, and that she 
 is all the serving-creatures you give wages to. 
 If you smell a watch (and that you may easily 
 doe, for commonly they eate onions to keep them 
 in sleeping, which they account a medicine 
 against cold) or, if you come within danger of 
 their browne bils, let him that is your candle- 
 stick, and. holds up your torch from dropping 
 (for to march after a linck is shoomaker-like), 
 let I^riis FaiuuSf I say, being within the reach
 
 THE GULS HORN BOOKE 61 
 
 of the Constables staffe, aske aloud, Sir Giles, How to 
 or Sir Ahram, will you turne this way, or downe hoodwink 
 that streete ? It skils not, though there be none ^hewatcn 
 dubd in your Bunch ; the watch will winke at 
 you, onely for the love they beare to armes and 
 knighthood : mary, if the Centinell and his court 
 of Guard stand strictly upon his martiall Law 
 and cry stand, commanding you to give the 
 word, and to shew reason why your Ghost 
 walkes so late, doe it in some Jest (for that will 
 shew you have a desperate wit, and perhaps 
 make him and his halberdiers afraid to lay fowle 
 hands upon you) or, if you read a mittimus in 
 the Constables booke, counterfeit to be a French- 
 man, a Dutchman, or any other nation whose 
 country is in peace with your owne ; and you 
 may passe the pikes : for beeing not able to 
 understand you, they cannot by the customes of 
 the Citie take your examination, and so by con- 
 sequence they have nothing to say to you. 
 
 If the night be old, and that your lodging be 
 some place into which no Artillery of words can 
 make a breach, retire, and rather assault the 
 dores of your punck, or (not to speak broken 
 English) your sweete mistris, upon whose white 
 bosome you may languishingly consume the rest 
 of darknesse that is left, in ravishing (though 
 not restorative) pleasures, without expenses, 
 onely by vertue of foure or five oathes (when the 
 siege breakes up, and at your marching away 
 with bag and baggage) that the last night you 
 were at dice, and lost so much in gold, so much 
 in silver ; and seeme to vex most that two such 
 Elizabeth twenty-shilling peeces, or foure such
 
 62 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 How to spur-ryals (sent you with a cheese and a bakt 
 get the nieate from your mother) rid away amongst the 
 tiorfof^a ^^^^* -^^ which tragicall yet pollitick speech, 
 spend- you may not only have your nighte worke done 
 thrift Gratis, but also you may take dyet there the 
 next day, and depart with credit, onely upon the 
 bare word of a Gentleman to make her restitu- 
 tion. 
 
 All the way as you passe (especially being 
 approcht neere some of the Gates) talk of none 
 but Lords, and such Ladies with whom you have 
 plaid at Primero, or daunced in the Presence the 
 very same day. It is a chaunce to lock up the 
 lippes of an inquisitive Bel-man : and being 
 arrived at your lodging doore, which I would 
 councell you to choose in some rich Cittizens 
 house, salute at parting no man but by the name 
 of Sir (as though you had supt with Knights) 
 albeit you had none in your company but your 
 Perinado, or your Inghle. 
 
 Happily it will be blowne abroad, that you 
 and your Shoale of Gallants swum through such 
 an Ocean of wine, that you danced so much 
 money out at heeles, and that in wild-foule there 
 flew away thus much : and I assure you, to have 
 the bill of your reckoning lost of purpose, so that 
 it may be publisht, will make you to be held in 
 deere estimation : onely the danger is, if you 
 owe money, and that your revealing gets your 
 Creditors by the eares ; for then looke to have a 
 peal of ordinance thundring at your chamber 
 doore the next morning. But if either your 
 Tailor, Mercer, Haberdasher, Silkeman, Cutter, 
 Linen Draper, or Sempster, stand like a guard
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 63 
 
 of Szviizers about your lodging, watching your A method 
 uprising, or, if they misse of that, your down to get rid 
 lying in one of the Counters, you have no ^^ duns 
 meanes to avoid the galling of their small-shot, 
 then by sending out a light horseman to call your 
 Apotecary to your aide, who, encountring this 
 desperate band of your Creditors, only with two 
 or three glasses in his hand, as though that day 
 you purgd, is able to drive them all to their 
 holes like so many Foxes : for the name of 
 taking physicke is a sufficient Quietus est to any 
 endangered Gentleman, and gives an acquittance 
 (for the time) to them all, though the twelve 
 Companies stand with their hoods to attend 
 your comming forth and their Officers with 
 them. 
 
 I could now fetch you about noone (the houre 
 which I prescribed you before to rise at) out of 
 your chamber, and carry you with mee into 
 Paules Churchyard ; where planting your selfe 
 in a Stationers shop, many mstructions are to 
 bee given you, what bookes to call for, how to 
 censure of new bookes, how to mew at the old, 
 how to looke in your tables and inquire for such 
 and such Greeke, French, Italian, or Spanish 
 Authors, whose names you have there, but 
 whom your mother for pitty would not give you 
 so much wit as to understand. From thence 
 you should blow your selfe into the Tobacco- 
 Ordinary, where you are likewise to spend your 
 judgment (like a Quack-salver) upon that mysti- 
 call wonder, to bee able to discourse whether 
 your Cane or your Pudding be sweetest, and 
 which pipe has the best boare, and which burnes
 
 64 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The black, which breakes in the burning, &c. Or, 
 education j£ yQ^ jj.^,]^ ^q g^^p j^^q |.j^g Barbers, a whole 
 
 Cockney ^^^^^^"^O' cannot afFord more wordes to set 
 downe notes what Dialogues you are to maintaine 
 whilest you are Doctor of the Chaire there. 
 After your shaving, I could breath you in a 
 Fence-schoole, and out of that cudgell you into a 
 Dauncing schoole, in both which I could weary 
 you, by shewing you more tricks then are in 
 five galleries, or fifteen prizes. And, to close 
 up the stomach of this feast, I could make 
 Cockneies, whose fathers have left them well, 
 acknowledge themselves infinitely beholden to 
 me, for teaching them by familiar demonstration 
 how to spend their patrimony and to get 
 themselves names, when their fathers are dead 
 and rotten. But lest too many dishes should 
 cast into a surfet, I will now take away ; yet so 
 that, if I perceive you relish this well, the rest 
 shall be (in time) prepared for you. Fare- 
 well, 
 
 Finis.
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 65
 
 The poore Belman of London. 
 
 To all those that either by office are 
 sworne to punish, or in their owne 
 love to vertue, wish to have the dis- 
 orders of a State amended, humbly 
 dedicateth these his Discoveries. 
 
 jit your Gates the Belman of London beateth, to 
 awaken your eies, to looke back after certaine 
 Grand and common Abuses, that daily lualke by 
 you^ keeping aloof e (in corners J out of the reach of 
 Laiv, It must bee the hand of your authoritie 
 that must fetch in these Rebels to the IVeale- 
 publick^ and your arme that must strike them. I 
 chuse you as Patrons, (not to my booke) but to 
 defend me from those Monsters^ whose dennes I 
 hreake open in this my discovery. More dangerous 
 they are to a State, than a Civill Warre, because 
 their vi/Ianies are more subtile and more enduring. 
 The Belman notwithstanding hath plaid the Owle 
 (who is the E.mh\emQ of wisedome ) for sleeping 
 in the day, as abhorring to behold the impieties of 
 this last and ivorst a^^e of the worlde. In the 
 night therefore hath hee stolne forth, and with the 
 helpe of his lanthorne and candle, (by which is 
 67
 
 68 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 figured Circumspection^ hath he brought to light 
 that broode of mis chief e / which is ingendred in the 
 luombe of darknesse, A monstrous birth is it, and 
 therefore ivorthy to be looked at : from monstrous 
 parents doth it proceed, and therefore the sight of 
 it to be fearefull. But of such rare temper are 
 your eies, that fas if they had sunne-beames in 
 them) they are able to exhale up all these contagious 
 breathes which poison a kingdome, and so to sperse 
 them into thin aire, that they shall utterly vanish, 
 and be no more offensive. In this black shore oj 
 mis chief e have I sailed along, and beene afaithfull 
 discoverer of all the creekes, rocks, gulfes, and 
 quick-sands in and about it : Bee you therefore as 
 second adventurers, and furnish men armed with 
 justice, and well furnished in all points with a 
 desire to conquer these Savages, and send them to 
 set strong and fearfull footing amongst them. It 
 shall be honour to yourselves, and them, and a rick 
 benefit e to the Republick wherein you live. For 
 my owne parte I vowe, that as I dedicate these 
 my labours to your hands, so will I devote my life 
 to the safe tie of my country in defending her from 
 these Serpents : I ivill fwaste out mine eies ivith 
 my candles, and watch from midnight till the rising 
 up of the morning, my Bell shall ever be ringing, 
 and that fait hfull servant of mine (the Dog that 
 folio we s me J be ever biting of these wilde beastes, 
 till they be all driven into one heard, and so hunted 
 into the toyles of the Lawe. Accept therefore oj 
 this Night-prize (my Grave and worthy Patrons^ 
 drawne rudely, and presented boldly, because I 
 know the colours laide upon it, are not counterfeit, 
 as those of borrowed beauties : but this is a picture
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 69 
 
 0/ Villany, drawne to the life, of purpose that Ufe 
 
 might be draivne from it. None can be offended 
 
 nvith it, but such as are guilty to themselves, that 
 
 they are such as are en r old in this Muster bookcy 
 
 for whose anger, or ivhose stab, I care not. At 
 
 no mans bosome doe I particularly strike, but onely 
 
 at I the bodie oj Vice in Generall ; if my manner 
 
 0/ Fight (with these dangerous Maisters of the 
 
 Ignoblest Science that ever was in any kingdome) 
 
 doe get hut applause ; the Belman shall shortly 
 
 bid you to another Prize, where you shall see 
 
 him play at other kind of weapons. 
 
 Devoted night and day yours y 
 The Belman of London./
 
 A Fable of the principall matters 
 contained in this Booke. 
 
 A Discover ie of all the idle Vagabonds in England : 
 their conditions: their lawes amongst themselves: 
 their degrees and orders : their meetings, and their 
 maners of living, (both men and women. J 
 
 A dis cover ie of certaine secret Villanies, nvhich 
 horroiv to themselfes the names of Laives, 
 
 AS 
 
 Cheating Law. 
 Vincents Law. 
 Courbing Law. 
 Lifting Law. 
 Sacking Law. 
 
 Barnards Law. 
 The Black Art. 
 Prigging Law. 
 High Law. 
 Figging Law. 
 
 Five Jumpes at Leap-frog. / 
 
 70
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON. 
 
 Discovering the most notable villanies 
 now in the Kingdome. 
 
 Entring into a contemplation of the Changes of The 
 Time ; how all things that are under the Moone author 
 are as variable as her lookes are : how Goodness laments 
 grows crooked, and hath almost lost her shape : , , ^ 5]^ 
 how Vertue goes poorely, and is not regarded : 
 how Villany jets in silkes, and (like a God) 
 adored : And when I consider, how all the 
 pleasures of this life are but as childrens dreames, 
 how all the glories of the world are but artificiall 
 fire workes that keepe a blazing for a time, and 
 yet die in stinking smoakes : and how al the 
 labours of man are like the toiling of the winds, 
 which strive to cast up heapes of dust, that in 
 the ende are not worth the gathering : Then, 
 even then, doe I grow wearie of myselfe : then 
 am I neither in love with the beautie of the Sunne, 
 neither stand I gazing at the dancing of the 
 starres : I neither wonder at the stately measures 
 of the cloudes, the nimble galliards of the water, 
 nor the wanton trippings of the wind, nor am I 
 delighted when the earth dresses up her head 
 with flowers ; I wish my selfe a Beast ^ because 
 71
 
 72 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 In praise men are so bad that Beasts excell them in good- 
 of the jj^gg^ ^^^ abhorre all company, because the best 
 ^ is but tedious, the worser loathsome, both are 
 the destroyers of Time, and both must be main- 
 tained with cost. 
 
 Since then that in the Noblest Streames there 
 are such Whirhpooles to swallow us up, such 
 Rocks that threaten danger, (if not shipwracke,) 
 and such Quick-sands to make us sinke, who 
 would not willingly take downe all the sayles of 
 his ambition, and cast anchore on a safe and re- 
 tired shore, which is to be found in no place, if 
 not in the Countrie. O blessed life ! patterne / 
 of that which our first Parents lead, the state of 
 Kinges (now) being but a slavery to that of 
 theirs. O schoole of contemplation ! O thou 
 picture of the whole world drawne in a little 
 compasse ! O thou Perspective glasse, in 
 whom we may behold upon earth, all the 
 Frame and IVonders of heaven. How happy, 
 (how thrice happy) is hee that not playing with 
 his winges in the golden flames of the Court, 
 nor setting his foot into the busie throngs of the 
 Cittie, nor running up, and downe, in the intricate 
 mazes of the law, can bee content in the winter 
 to sit by a country fire, and in the summer to 
 lay his head on the greene pillowes of the earth ? 
 where his sleepe shall be soft slumbers and his 
 wakings pleasant as golden dreames. Hast thou 
 a desire to rule ? get up to the mountaines, and 
 thou shalt see the greatest trees stand trembling 
 before thee, to do thee Reverence ; those mayest 
 thou call thy Nobles : thou shalt have rankes of 
 Oakes on each side of thee, which thou mayest
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 73 
 
 call thy Guard : thou shalt see willowes bending In praise 
 at every blast, whome thou mayest call thy ^^ the 
 flatterers ; thou shalt see vallies humbled at thy country 
 feete, whom thou mayest terme thy slaves. 
 Wouldest thou behold battailes ? step into the 
 fields, there shalt thou see excellent combats 
 betweene the standing Corne and the Windes. 
 Art thou a tyrant and delightest in the fall of 
 Great ones ? muster then thy harvesters togeather, 
 and downe with those proud summer lordes, when 
 they are at the highest. Wouldest thou have 
 Subsidies paid thee ? the Plough sends thee in 
 corne, the Medow gives thee her pasture, the 
 Trees pay custome with their fruite, the Oxe 
 bestowes upon thee his labour, the sheepe his 
 wooll. Dost thou call for Musicke \ No 
 Prince in the worlde keepes more skilfull 
 musitions : the birds are thy consort, and the 
 winde instruments they play upon, yeeld ten 
 thousand tunes. Art thou addicted to studie ; 
 Heaven is thy Library ; the Sunne, Moone, and 
 starresarethy bookes and teach thee Astronomie : 
 By observing them, thou makest Almanacks to 
 thy selfe, that serve for all seasons. That great 
 Volume is thine Ephemerides, out of which thou 
 maist calculate the predictions of times to follow ; 
 yea in the very cloudes are written lessons of 
 Divinity for thee, to instruct thee in wisdome : 
 the turning over their leaves, teach thee the 
 variations of seasons, and how to dispose thy 
 businesse for all weathers. If the practise of 
 Phisiche delight thee, what Aphorismes j can all 
 the Doctours in the worlde set downe more 
 certaine ? what rules for good diet can they
 
 74 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The town draw oat more singular : what medicines for 
 V. the health can they compound more restorative r 
 country ^jj^f vertues can al their Extracted Quintessenses 
 instill into our bodies more soveraine, than those 
 which the earth of her owne bountie bestowes 
 for our preservation, and whose working powers 
 are daily experimented in beastes for our 
 example : O vou Plants of the tield, and vou 
 FictL'ers of the Garden ! (Natures Apothecaries, 
 and Earths Chirurgions ! ) vour stalkes are slender, 
 yet you your selves are the cheefest pillars that 
 uphold mans life : what clearenesse doth the 
 sight receive onely in beholding you ? what 
 comfort does the Sence of Smelling finde onelv 
 in your Savors ? and how many that have had 
 halfe their bodies in their graves, have beene 
 brought backe againe onely by your sacred 
 Juices ? Who therefore would not consume 
 his youth in company of these creatures, that 
 have power in them to keepe off old age longer 
 than ii would ; or when old age doth come, are 
 able to give it the livelihood and vigour ot 
 youth ? Who would not rather sit at the foote 
 of a hill tending a llocke of sheepe then at the 
 healme of Authority, controuling the stubborne 
 and unruly multitude I Better it is in the 
 solitarie woods, and in the wilde fields to be a 
 man amongst Beastes than in the midest of a 
 peopled Citie, to bee a Btast among men. In 
 the homely village art thou more safe, than in a 
 fortified castle : the stinges of Envy^ nor the 
 bullets of Treason, are never shot through those 
 thin walles : Sound healrhes are drunke out of 
 the wholesome wodden dish, when the cup of
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 75 
 
 gt)id boylcs over with poyson. I'hc Countrie The 
 
 cottage is neither battred downe by tlie cannon anther 
 
 in time of warre, nor pcstred with chimorous ^"ters the 
 
 suites in time ot peace. I'he Fall of Cedars ^ 
 
 that tumble from tlie lops of kingdomes, tlie 
 
 Ruine of Great Houses^ that bury Fmnilyes in 
 
 their overtlirowe, and t!ie noyse of Shtpivracksy 
 
 that beget even shrikes in the heart of Cittics, 
 
 never send their terrors thither : that place stantls 
 
 as safe from the shock of such violent stormcs, 
 
 as the Bay tree does from ligiitniiig. 
 
 The admiration ot these Benvtics made mee so 
 enamoured, and so really in love with the in- 
 heritor of them that the llames of my affection 
 (were in their burning) onely carried thither. 
 So that in stead of paved streetes, I trod the 
 unbeaten pathes of the / fieldes, the rankes of 
 trees, were to mee as great buildings, Lambs and 
 skip])ing Kiddes were as my mery companions, 
 the cleare fountaine, as my cups ot wine, rootes 
 and hearbes as the table of an Ordinary, the 
 dialogues ot birtles as the Sccanes of a play, and 
 the open emptie medowes, as the proud and 
 populous Cittie. Thus did I wish to live, thus 
 to die. And having wandred long (like a 
 TimoTi'tst) hating Men because they dishonoured 
 their Creatioriy at lengtli Fortune lead mee by 
 the hand into a place, so curiously built by 
 Nature, as if it had bin the pallace where shce 
 j)urposed none should lie but her selfe : It was 
 a Grove set thicke with tr<:es, which grewe in 
 such order, that they made a perfect circle ; in- 
 somuch that I stood in feare, it was kept by 
 Fayriesy and that I was brought into it by en-
 
 76 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The chantment. The branches of the Trees (like 
 beauty of g^ many handes) reached over one to another 
 * and in their embraceraents held so fast together, 
 
 that their boughes made a goodly greene roofe, 
 which being touched by the wind, it was a 
 pleasure to behold so large a Seeling to move ; 
 upon evtry branch sate a consort of singers, so 
 that every tree shewed like a Musicke roome. 
 The Floore of this summer-house was paved all 
 over with yellow field-flowers, and with white, 
 & red daizies, upon which the Sun casting but a 
 wanton eye, you would have sworne the one had 
 beene nayles of gold, and the other studdes of 
 enamelled Silver. Amazed I was when I did 
 but looke into this little paradice, and afraid to 
 enter, doubting whether it were some hallowed 
 ground or no, for I could find no path that 
 directed me to it ; neither the foote of any man 
 nor the hoofe of any beast had beaten downe 
 the grasse ; for the blades of it stood so hie and 
 so even, as if their lengthes had been given them 
 by one measure. The melodie which the birdes 
 made, and the varietie of all sorts of fruits 
 which the trees promised, with the prettie and 
 harmeless murmuring of a shallow streame running 
 in windings through the middest of it (whose 
 noyse went like a chime of bels, charming the 
 eves to sleepe) put me in mind of that Garden 
 whereof our Great Grandsyre was the Keeper. 
 I even wept for sorrow to thinke he should be 
 so foolish, as to bee driven from a place of such 
 happinesse : and blamed him in my mind for 
 leaving such a president behind him, because by 
 his fall, wee lost his felicitie, and by his frailtie
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 77 
 
 all men are now apt to undoe themselves, and His de- 
 their posterity, through / the inticements of hght in 
 women. ^^e grove 
 
 Into this Grove therefore at last I did venture, 
 resolving to make it the Temple where my 
 thoughts should spend themselves in fruitfull 
 contemplation ; I purposed to divide the day 
 into Actes, as if the Ground had beene a stage 
 and that the life which there I meant to leade, 
 should have beene but as a Play. Some of my 
 hours should have run out in Speculation of the 
 admirable workmanship of heaven and of the 
 orders which the Celestiall bodies are governed 
 by : Some of my hours should have carried me 
 up and downe the earth and have shewen unto 
 me the qualities and proportions of the Creatures 
 that breed upon it : at another time would I 
 have written Satyres against the impietie of the 
 world ; At another, 1 would have chaunted 
 Roundelayes, in honour of the Countrie life. The 
 rest of my time should have fetched in provision 
 for my body. These were appointed to be my 
 Actes, in this goodly Theater, the Muslcke be- 
 tweene, were the Singers of the Wood, the 
 audience such as Orpheus plaid unto, and those 
 were, mountaines and trees, who (unles the 
 whispering windes troubled them with their 
 noyse) would have beene very attentive. But 
 whilst I was setting forth to runne this Goale ; 
 behold, casting up mine eye, I espied a farre off 
 certaine cloudes of smoake, whose vapours 
 ascended up so blacke and thicke into the ele- 
 ment, as if the Sighes of Hell had burst the 
 bowels of the earth, and were flying up toward
 
 78 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The heaven, to pul downe more vengeance. Before 
 cottage in j g^^ j.}^-g^ j beleeved that this place had beene 
 * free from all resort : desirous therefore to learne 
 
 who they were that neighboured so nie, and 
 in a solitarie wood, (that stood so farre from in- 
 habited buildings,) I stept forward and came to 
 the place, which (what by Nature and what by 
 Art) was so fenced about with trees, quickset- 
 hedges, and bushes, which were growne so high, 
 (that but for the smoake) it was not possible to 
 imagine how a house could there be builded. 
 There was but one path leading to it, which 
 (after much searching and many turnings) being 
 found, boldly went I on, and arrived at a homely 
 cottage : the very doore of it put me in mind of 
 that poore Inne of good Baucis and Phllamon, 
 where a God was a guest : for it was so low, 
 that even a dwarfe might have seemed a tall 
 man, entring into it, so much would it have 
 made him stoope. This house stood not like 
 Great mens places^ / ahvaies shut, but wide open, 
 as if Bountie had been the porter, and being 
 within, it seemd Hospitalitie dwelt there, and 
 had given you welcome. For there was a 
 table readie covered, with faire linnen, nut- 
 browne round trenchers lay in good order, with 
 bread, and salt, keeping their state in the middle 
 of the board. The Roome it selfe was not 
 sumptuous but hansome ; of indifferent bignes, 
 but not very large : the windowes were spread 
 with hearbes, the chimney drest up with greene 
 boughes, and the lioore strewed with bulrushes, 
 as if some lasse were there that morne to be 
 married : but neither saw I any bride or bride-
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 79 
 
 groome, nor heard I any musicke : onely in the The 
 next roome (which was the kitchen, and into inmates 
 which I went) was there as much stirring, as of the 
 commonly is to be seene in a Booth, upon the ^ 
 
 first day of the opening of a Fayre, Some 
 sate turning of spits, and the place being al 
 smoaky, made mee thinke on hell, for the joynts 
 of meate lay as if they had beene broyling in the 
 infernall fire ; the turne-spits (who were poore 
 tattered greasie fellowes) looking like so many 
 hee divels. Some were basting and seemed like 
 feindes powring scalding oyle upon the damned : 
 others were myncing of pye-meate, and shewed 
 like hangmen cutting up of quarters, whilst 
 another whose eies glowed with the heate of the 
 fire, stood poaking in at the mouth of an Oven, 
 torturing soules as it were in the furnace of 
 Lucifer. There was such chopping of hearbes, 
 such tossing of ladels, such plucking of geese, 
 such scalding of pigges, such singing, such 
 scolding, such laughing, such swearing, such 
 running too and fro, as if Pluto had that day 
 bidden all his friendes to a feast, and that these 
 had beene the Cookes that drest the dinner. 
 
 At the last espying an old nymble-tongd 
 beldam, who seemed to have the command of 
 the place, to her I stepped, and in faire terms 
 requested to know the name of the Dtuelling, 
 why this great cheere was provided, and who 
 were the Guests, for as yet I saw no bodie, but 
 this Band of the Blacke Guard. In stead of 
 her tonge her eyes (that h^d started backe a 
 good way into her head, as if they durst not 
 looke out) made me an answere. I perceived
 
 8o THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The by her very countenance, that I was not 
 , ,f ^^^^ welcome, which afterwards she confirmed in 
 "^ beldame hordes, telling mee, the place was not for mee, 
 to conceal the feast was for others, and that I must in- 
 him stantly bee gon, for that a strange kind of people 
 were that day to bee merry / there. No 
 Rhetoricke that I could use had power to win 
 her to discover who these Guests should bee, till 
 at the length, a Bribe prevailing more then a 
 Parlee, shee told mee I should be a Spectator 
 of the comedy in hand, and in a private gallery 
 behold all the Actors, upon condition I would 
 sit quietly and say nothing ; And for that pur- 
 pose was I convaied into an upper loft where 
 (unseene) I might (through a wodden lattice 
 that had the prospect of the dyning roome) both 
 see and heare all that was to be done or spoken. 
 There lay I like a Scoute to discover the 
 comming of the expected enemy, who was to 
 set upon this good cheere, and to batter downe 
 the walls of hot pyes and pasties. Mine eyes 
 even aked with staring towardes the doore, to 
 spie when these states should enter, ducking 
 downe with their heads like so many geese 
 going into a barne. At length (with bagge and 
 baggage) they came droping in one after another, 
 sometimes three in a company, sometimes five, 
 now more, now lesse, till in the end, the great 
 Hall, was so full that it swarmed with them. I 
 know you wonder, and have longing thoughts to 
 know what Generation this is, that lived in this 
 hospitable familiarity ; but let me tell you, they 
 are a people for whom the world cares not, 
 neither care they for the world ; they are all
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 8i 
 
 freemen, yet scorne to live in Citties : great The 
 travellers they are, and yet never from home ; guests 
 poore they are, and yet have their dyet from the ^^A 
 best mens tables. They are neither old Serving- 
 men (for all I say they are poore) that have 
 beene courtiers, and are now past carrying of 
 cloake-bags : nor young gallants that have 
 served in the Low Countries, (albeit many of 
 them goe upon wodden legges) nor hungry 
 schollers, that all their life time have kept a 
 wrangling in the schooles and in the ende are 
 glad to teach children their home bookes : 
 neither are they decayed Poets, whose wits like 
 a fooles land, hold out but a twelvemonth and 
 then they live upon the scraps of other mens in- 
 vention : no nor Players they bee, who out of 
 an ambition to weare the Best Jerkin (in a 
 Strowling Company) or to Act Great Parts, 
 forsake the stately and our more than Romaine 
 Cittie Stages, to travel upon the hard hoofe from 
 village to village for cheese and butter-milke ; 
 neither are they any of those terrible Noyses, 
 (with thred-bare cloakes) that live by red 
 lattices and Ivy-bushes, having authority to 
 thrust into any mans roome, / onely speaking 
 but this, Will you have any musicke P Neither 
 are they Cittizens that have beene blowne up 
 (without gunpowder) and by that meanes have 
 beene free of the Grate at Ludgate, some five 
 times : no ; no, this is a Ging of good fellowes 
 in whome there is more brotherhood : this is a 
 Crew that is not the Damned Cretu, (for they 
 walke in Sattin) but this is the Ragged Regiment : 
 Fillaines they are by birth, Varlets by education, 
 
 F
 
 82 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The Knaves by profession, Beggers by the Statute, 
 rag-ged ^ Rogues by Act of Parliament. They are the 
 regiment -^j^ Drones of a Countrie, the Caterptllers of a 
 beggars Common wealth, and the Egyptian lice of a 
 Kingdome. And albeit that at other times their 
 attire was fitting to their trade of living, yet 
 now were they all in hansome cleane linnen, be- 
 cause this was one of their Quarter-dinners, for 
 you must understand that (as afterward I learnt 
 by intelligence) they hold these sollemne 
 meetings in foure several seasons of the yeare 
 at least, and in severall places to avoid discovery. 
 The whole assembly being thus gathered to- 
 gether, One amongst the rest, who tooke upon 
 him a Seniority over the rest, charged every man 
 to answere to his name, to see if the Jury were 
 full : the Bill, by which he meant to call them 
 being a double Jug of Ale, (that had the spirit 
 of Aqua vita in it, it smelt so strong) and that 
 hee held in his hand : Another standing by with 
 a toast. Nut-meg, and ginger, readie to crie Vous 
 avez as they were called, and all that were in the 
 roome having single pots by the eares, which like 
 pistols were charged to go off so soone as ever 
 they heard their names. This Ceremony being 
 set abroach, an 0-y^J" was made: But he that 
 was Rector Chori (the Captaine of the Tatter- 
 demalions) spying One to march under his cullors, 
 that had never before served in these Lowsie 
 warres, paused awhile, (after he had taken his 
 first draught, to taste the dexterity of the liquor) 
 & then began (Justice-like) to examine this 
 Tonger Brother upon Interrogatories. 
 
 The first question hee demanded, was, if hee
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 83 
 
 were stalled to the Rogue or no ? the poore Hun- Initiation 
 garian answered, yes, He ivas : then was he of a 
 asked by Whom he was Stalled, and Where, and brother 
 in What manner of Complement it was done : to 
 which question the Novice having not so much 
 beggerly knowledge as might make a learned 
 reply, forthwith did the Wicked Elder, command 
 the yong Slavonians that stood about him to dis- 
 furnish him that was / so unskilfull in the Rudi- 
 ments of Roagarie, of his best Garment and to 
 carry it presently to the Bowsin Ken, (that was 
 to say to the taphouse) and there to pawne it for 
 so much strong Ale, as could be ventured upon 
 it : Thus the chiefe Rag-a-muffen gave in charge, 
 the rest obeyed and did so, whilst the other 
 Suffered himselfe to bee stript, and durst not 
 resist their base authoritie. 
 
 This done, the Grand Signior called for a 
 Gage of Bowse, which belike signified a quart 
 of drinke, for presently a pot of Ale being put 
 into his hand, hee made the yong Squire kneele 
 downe, and powring the full pot on his pate, 
 uttered these wordes, I — doe stall thee — to the 
 Rogue, by vertue of this soveraigne English 
 liquor, so that henceforth it shall bee lawfull for 
 thee to Cant, (that is to say) to be a Vagabond 
 and Beg, and to speake that pedlers French, or 
 that Canting language, which is to be found 
 among none but Beggers : with that, the Stalled 
 Gentleman rose, all the rest in the roome hanging 
 upon him for joy, like so many dogges about a 
 beare, and leaping about him with showtes like 
 so many mad-men. 
 
 But a Silence being proclaimed, all were
 
 84 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The hushed ; whilst Hee that played the maister- 
 presi- (iiygig pjj-t amongst these Hell-hounds, after a 
 charge shrug or two given, thus began to speake to him 
 to the that was new-entered into the damned Fraternitie. 
 neophyte Brother Begger (quoth he) because thou art yet 
 but a meere fresh-man in our Colledge, I charge 
 thee to hang thine eares to my lippes, and to 
 learne the Orders of our house which thou must 
 observe, upon paine either to be beaten with our 
 cudgels the next time thou art m.et, or else to 
 bee stript out of any garments that are worth the 
 taking from thee. First therefore, (being no 
 better than a Plaine ordinarie Roague, mary in 
 time thou maist rise to more preferment amongst 
 us,) thou art not to wander up and downe all 
 Countries, but to walke only (like an Under- 
 Keeper of a forrest) in that quarter which is 
 allotted unto thee. Thou art likewise to Give 
 way to any of us that have borne all the Offices 
 of the Wallet before thee, and upon holding up 
 a finger, to avoyd any towne, or country village, 
 where thou seest we are forraging to victuall 
 our Army that march along with us. For (my 
 poore Viiliaco) thou must know, that there are 
 degrees of Superiority and Inferiority in our 
 Societie, as there are in / the prowdest Company. 
 We have amongst us some eighteen or nineteene 
 severall offices for men, and about seven or eight 
 for women : The Chlefest of us are called Up- 
 right men, (I my deere Sun-burnt-brother, if all 
 those that are the Chlefest men in other com- 
 panies were Upright men too, what good dealing 
 would there be in all occupations ?) the next 
 ace Ruffiers : then have we Anglers, but they
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 85 
 
 seldome cat[c]h fish, till they go up Westward The 
 tor Flounders : then are there Roagues, (the ^yp^s of 
 livery thou thy selfe now wearest :) Next are ^^^^^^ 
 Wilde Rogues, then P riggers : then Palliardes : 
 then Praters : then Tom of Bedlams band of 
 madcaps, otherwise called Poore Toms Flocke of 
 Wilde-geese (whome here thou seest by his blacke 
 and blew naked armes to be a man beaten to the 
 world,) and those Wild-geese, or Hayre-braynes 
 are called Abraham-men : in the next Squadron 
 march our brave Whip-jacks, at the taile of them 
 come crawling our Counterfeit Crankes : in 
 another troope are Cabling Domerers : then 
 Curtals follow at their heeles, and they bring 
 along with them, strange Enginers, called Irish- 
 Toyles : After whom follow the Szuigmen, the 
 Jarkemen, the Patricoes, and last the Kinchin- 
 Coes, These are the tottred Regiments, that 
 make up our maine armie. The Victualers to 
 the campe are women, and of those some are 
 Clymerers, some Bazvdy-Baskets, some Autem- 
 Morts : others Walking- Morts : some Dopers, 
 others are Dols, the last and least are called 
 Kinchyn- Morts, With all which Comrades, thou 
 shalt in thy Beggarly Perigrination, meete, con- 
 verse, and be drunke, and in a short time know 
 their natures and Roaguisb conditions without 
 the helpe of a Tutor. At these wordes the 
 victuals came smoaking into the hall to bee set 
 upon the board, whereupon the whole swarme 
 squatted downe, being as uncivell in manners, as 
 unhansome in apparel 1, onely the Upright-men 
 and Rufflers had the Graine of the board given 
 them & sate at upper end of the table, the rest
 
 S6 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The feast tooke their trenchers as they happed into their 
 of the handes, yet so, that every knave had his Queane 
 rogues ^jQgg ^y j^jg gjjg^ 
 
 The table being thus furnished both with 
 Guests and Meate, in stead of Grace^ every one 
 drew out a knife, rapt out a round oath and 
 cryed Pro face you mad Rogues, and so fell to. 
 They fed more hungerly, than if they had come 
 from the seege of Jerusalem : not a word was 
 heard amongst them for a long time, onely / 
 their teeth made a noyse, as if so many Mils had 
 beene grinding. Rats going to the assault of a 
 Holland cheese could not more valliantly lay 
 about them, nay my Lord Maiors Hounds at the 
 dog-house being bidden to the funeral 1 banquet 
 of a dead horse, could not picke the bones 
 cleaner : At length when the platters began to 
 looke leane, and their bellies grew plumpe, then 
 went their Tongues : But such a noise made 
 they, such a confusion was there of beggerly 
 tayles, some gabling in their Canting language, 
 others in their owne, that the scolding at ten 
 conduits, and the gossipings of fifteene bake- 
 houses was delicate musicke of it. At the 
 length, drunken healths reeled up and downe 
 the table, and then it would have made a 
 Phisition himselfe sicke, but to have looked 
 upon the waters that came from them. The 
 whole Roome shewed a far re off (but that there 
 was heard such a noyse) like a Dutch peece of 
 Drollery : for they sate at table as if they had 
 beene so many Anticks : A Painters prentice 
 could not draw worse faces than they themselves 
 made, besides those which God gave them ; no,
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 87 
 
 nor a painter himselfe vary a picture into more After 
 strange and more ill-favord gestures, than were dinner 
 to be seene in the Action ot their bodies : for scenes 
 some did nothing but weepe and protest love to 
 their Morts, another swore daggers and knives to 
 cut the throat of his Dopye, if hee found her 
 tripping : Some slept, being drowned so deepe 
 in Ale-dregs, that they slavered againe ; others 
 sung bawdie songs ; another crew, devised 
 curses upon Justices of Peace, Headboroughes 
 and Constables, grinding their teeth so hard to- 
 gether for anger, that the grating of a saw in a 
 stone-cutters yard, when it fyles in sunder the 
 ribs of Marble makes not a more horrible noyse. 
 In ye end One who tooke upon him to be Speaker 
 to the whole house, (bidding the French and 
 English pox on their yelping throats,) cryed out 
 for silence, telling them it was his turne (accord- 
 ing to the customes of their Meeting) to make 
 an Oration in praise oi Beggerie, and of those that 
 professe the Trade. Hereupon (as if an Ozvle 
 had happened amongst so many birds) all their 
 eyes did presently stare upon him : who thus 
 began. 
 
 My noble hearts, my old weather-beaten 
 fellowes, and brave English Spirits, I am to give 
 you that which all the land knowes you justly 
 deserve (a Roaguish commendation,) and you 
 shall have it. I am to give Beggers their due 
 praise, yet / what neede I doe that, sithence no 
 man, I thinke, will take any thing from them 
 that is their due. To be a Begger is to be a 
 Braveman, because tis now in fashion for very 
 brave men to Beg. No but what a Rogue am I
 
 88 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 In praise to build up your honours upon examples ? doe 
 of we not all come into the world like arrant 
 
 beggary Meggers, without a rag upon us ? doe we not all 
 goe out of the world like Beggers, saving onely 
 an old sheete to cover us ? and shall we not 
 walke up & downe in the world like Beggers^ 
 with old blankets pinned about us ? yes, yes, wee 
 will, roared all the KenTiell^ as though it had bin 
 the dogs of Parish Garden : Peace cries the Peni- 
 lesse Orator and with a Hem proceedes. 
 
 What though there be Statutes to Burne us 
 i'th eares for Rogues? to syndge us i'th hand 
 for pilferers ? to whippe us at posts for being 
 Beggers ; and to shackle our heeles i'th stockes 
 for being idle vagabondes ? what of this ? Are 
 there not other Statutes more sharpe then these 
 to punish the rest of the Subjects, that scorne to 
 be our companions ? What though a prating 
 Constable, or a red nosd beadle say to one of us, 
 Sirra Goodman Rogue, if I served you well, I 
 should see you whipped through the towne ? 
 Alas ! Alas ! Silly Animals ! if all men should 
 have that which they deserve, we should doe 
 nothing but play the Executioners and tormenters 
 one of another. 
 
 A number of taylors would be damned for 
 keeping a Hell under their shop bord : all the 
 brokers would make their Wils at Tiborne, if 
 the searching for stolne goods which they have 
 Received, should like a Plague but once come 
 amongst them, yea if all were served in their 
 right kinde, Tivo parts of the land should be 
 whipped at Bridewell for lechery, and Three 
 parts (at least) be set i'th stocks for Drunken-
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 89 
 
 nes. The life of a Begger is the life of a Close of 
 souldier : he suffers hunger, & cold in winter, the ora- 
 and heate and thirst in Sommer : he goes lowsie, ^^°" ^^ 
 hee goes lame, hees not regarded, hees not re- up^of the 
 warded : here onely shines his glorie ; The company 
 whole Kingdome is but his Walke, a, whole Cittie 
 is but his parish. In every mans kitchin is his 
 meate drest, in every mans seller lyes his beare, 
 and the best mens pursses keepe a penny for him 
 to spend. 
 
 Since then the profession is ancient (as hav- 
 ing been from the beginning) and so generall, 
 that all sorts of people make it their last Refuge : 
 Since a number of Artificers maintaine their 
 houses / by it. Since we and many a thousand 
 more live merrily with it ; let us my brave 
 Tawny-faces, not give up our patched cloakes, 
 nor change our coppies, but as we came beggers 
 out of our mothers bellies, so resolve and set up 
 your staves upon this, to returne like beggers 
 into the bowels of the earth. Dixi. 
 
 Scarce was the word Dixi belch'd out of his 
 rotten Aly lunges, but all the Bench-whistlers 
 from one end to the other, gave a ringing 
 Plaudite to the Epilogue of his speech, in signe 
 of approbation : whereupon they rose up as 
 confusedly as they sate downe, and having payd 
 so farre as their purses would stretch for what 
 they had devoured, making Oes in chalke for 
 the rest when they met there next, And every 
 man with his Mort beeing assigned to their 
 quarter, which order given, at what following 
 Fayres to shake hands, and what Alebush to 
 tipple, with Items likewise given where to
 
 90 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The strike downe Geese, where to steale hennes, and 
 author {^q^-^ ^^^at hedges to fetch sheetes, that may 
 and his .u J . J 
 
 Laformant ^^'"^'^ ^^ pawnes, away they departed, 
 
 Turba Gravis Pad, plaudaque, inimica Ou'teti. 
 
 No sooner were their backes turned, but I 
 that all this while had stood in a corner (Uke a 
 watching candle) to see all their villanies, ap- 
 peared in my likenes ; and finding the Coast to 
 be perfectly cleere ; none remayning in the 
 house but the Hostesse to these Guests, her did 
 I summon to a second parley. The spirit of her 
 owne malt walkt in her braine-pan, so that 
 what with the sweetnesse of gaines which she 
 had gotten by her merchant ventures, and v/hat 
 with the fumes of drinke, which (like a lusty 
 gale to a wind mill,) set her tongue in going, I 
 found her apt for talke, and taking holde of 
 this opportunitie, after some intreaty to discover 
 to me what these Upright-men, Ruflers and the 
 rest were, with their severall qualities and 
 manners of life. Thus she began. 
 
 jin JJpright-man. 
 
 You shall understand then (quoth she) that 
 the chiefest of these that were my Tablemen to 
 day, are called Upright-men, whose picture I 
 will draw to the life before you. An Upright- 
 man is a sturdy big bonde knave, that never/ 
 walkes but (like a Commander^ with a short 
 troncheon in his hand, which hee cals his 
 Filchman, At Markets, Fayres & other meet-
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 91 
 
 ings his voice amongst Beggers is of the same An up- 
 sound that a Constables is of, it is not to be con- right man 
 trold. He is free of all the shiers in England, ^^^ ^^^ 
 but never stayes in any place long ; the reason ^ 
 is, his profession is to be idle, which being 
 looked into, he knowes is punisiiable, and 
 therefore to avoid the whip, he wanders. If 
 hee come to a Farmers doore, the almes hee 
 begs is neither meate nor drinke, but onely 
 money : if any thing else be offered to him, he 
 takes it with disdaine and laies it under a hedge 
 for any that come next, but in revenge of this, 
 if hee spy any geese, hennes, ducks, or such 
 like walking spirits haunting the house ; with 
 them he conjures about midnight ; using them 
 the next morning like traytors, either behedding 
 them or quartering them in pieces : for which 
 purpose, this band of Upright-men seldome 
 march without five or six in a company, so that 
 country people rather give them mony for feare 
 then out of any devotion. After this bloudy 
 massacre of the poore innocent pullen, the 
 Actors in their bloudy tragedy repaire to their 
 Stalling kennes, and those are tipling houses, 
 which will lend money upon any stolne goods, 
 and unto which none but such guests as these 
 resort : there the spits go round, and the Cannes 
 walke up and downe, there have they their 
 Morts and their Dopyes^ with whome (after 
 they have Boivsed profoundly) they lye (in stead 
 of fetherbeds) uppon litters of cleane strawe, 
 to increase the Generation of Rogues and 
 Beggers : For these Upright-men stand so much 
 uppon their reputation, that they scorne any
 
 92 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 What the Mort or Dopye should be scene to walke with 
 ruffler ^j^g^j-j . ^^^ indeede what neede they care for 
 them, when he may commaund any Dopye to 
 leave another man and to lye with him ; the 
 other not daring to murmure against it. An 
 Upright-man will seldome complaine of want, 
 for whatsoever any one of his profession doth 
 steale, he may challenge a share of it, yea and 
 may command any inferiour Roague to fetch in 
 booty to serve his tourne. These cary the 
 shapes of soldiers, and can talke of the Loiv 
 Countries, though they never were beyond 
 Dover, f 
 
 A Ruffler, 
 
 The next in degree to him is cald a Ruffler : 
 the Ruffler and ye Upright man are so like in 
 conditions, that you would sweare them brothers : 
 they walke with cudgels alike ; they professe 
 Armes alike, though they be both out at elbows, 
 and will sweare they lost their linimes in their 
 Countries quarell, when either they are lame by 
 diseases, or have bin mangled in some drunken 
 quarrell : These commonly are fellowes that 
 have stood aloofe in the warres and whilst others 
 fought, they tooke their heeles and ran away from 
 their Captaine, or else they have bin Servin^men, 
 whom for their behaviour, no man would trust 
 with a livery ; if they cannot spend their daies 
 to their mindes by their owne begging or robbing 
 of country people that come late from Markets 
 (for upon those they most usually exercise their 
 trade) then doe they compell the inferiour sub-
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 93 
 
 jects of their Common tuealth, (as Rogues, An angl- 
 Palliardsj Marts, Dopies Sec.) to pay tribute ing Auto- 
 unto them. A Rujjler after a yeare or two, ^y^us 
 takes state uppon, and becomes an Upright-man^ 
 (but not an konest man.) 
 
 An Angler. 
 
 An Angler is a lymb of an Upright -man., as 
 bceing derived from him : their apparell in 
 which they walke is commonly frieze Jerkins 
 and gaily slops : in the day time, they Beg from 
 house to house, not so much for reliefe, as to 
 spy what lyes fit tor their nets, which in the 
 night following they fish for. The Rod they 
 angle with is a staffe of five or six foote in 
 length, in which within one inch of the top is a 
 little hole beared quite thorough, into which 
 hole they put an yron hooke, and with the same 
 doe they angle at windowes about midnight ; 
 the draught they pluck up bceing apparell, 
 shcetes, coverlets, or whatsoever their iron 
 hookes can lay hold of : which prize when they 
 have gotten, they do not presently make sale of 
 it, but after foure or five daies, or according as 
 they suspect inquirie will be made after it, doe 
 they bring such goodes to a Broker, (traded up 
 for the purpose) who lends upon them halfe / so 
 much money as they be worth, which notwith- 
 standing serves the Angler a while for spending 
 money, & enriches him that buyes it for a long 
 time after.
 
 94 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 A Roague, 
 
 The A Rogue is knowne to all men by his name, 
 shifts of but not to all men by his conditions ; no puri- 
 the frater_ ^^^^ ^^^ discemble more than he, for he will 
 roffues speake in a lamentable tune and crawle along the 
 streetes, (supporting his body by a staffe) as if 
 there were not life enough in him to put strength 
 into his legs : his head shall be bound about 
 with lynnen, loathsome to behold ; and as filthy 
 in colour, as the complexion of his face ; his 
 apparell is all tattered, his bosome naked, and 
 most commonly no shirt on : not that they are 
 driven to this misery by meere want, but that if 
 they had better clothes given them, they would 
 rather sell them to some of their owne fraternity 
 then weare them, and wander up and downe in 
 that piteous manner, onely to move people to 
 compassion, and to be relieved with money, 
 which being gotten, at night is spent as merrily 
 and as lewdly, as in the day it was won by 
 counterfeit villany. Another sect there be of 
 these, and they are called Sturdy Rogues : these 
 walke from country to country under cullor of 
 travelling to their friends or to finde out some 
 kinseman, or else to deliver a letter to one 
 gentleman or other, whose name he will have 
 fairely endorsed on paper folded up for that 
 purpose, and hansomely seald : others use this 
 shift to carry a Certificate or pasport about them, 
 with the hand and seale of some Justice to it, 
 giving notice how he hath beene whipped for a 
 vagabond, according to the lawes of the Realme^ 
 8c that he is now to returne to such a place
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 95 
 
 where he was borne, or dwelt last, by a certaine The 
 day limitted, which is sure to be set downe long curtals 
 enough ; for all these writings are but counter- and the 
 fet, they having amongst them (of their owne ^L^gg 
 Ranch,) that can write and read, who are their 
 secretaries in this businesse. These fellowes 
 have fingers as nymble as the Upright-man, and 
 have their wenches, and meeting places ; where 
 whatsoever they get, they spend, and whatsoever 
 they spend is to satisfie their lust ; some of this 
 broode are called Curtals, because they / weare 
 short cloakes : their company is dangerous, their 
 lives detestable, and their ends miserable. 
 
 A wilJe Rogue, 
 
 The Tame Rogue begets a IViide Rogue ; and 
 this is a spirit that cares not in what circle he 
 rises, nor into the company of what Divels hee 
 falles : In his swadling clouts is he marked to be 
 a villaine, and in his breeding is instructed to 
 be so : the mother of him (who was delivered of 
 her burden under a hedge) either travelling with 
 him at her back, or else leading him in her hand, 
 and will rather endure to see his braynes beaten 
 out, than to have him taken from her, to be put 
 to an honest course of life. So envious they are 
 and so much doe they scorne any profession but 
 their owne : they have bin Rogues themselves, 
 and disdaine that their children should be other- 
 wise. These Wilde Rogues (like wilde geese) 
 keepe in flocks, and all the day loyter in the 
 fields, if the weather bee warme, and at Brick- 
 kils, or else disperse themselves in cold weather
 
 96 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Horse- to rich mens doores, and at night have their 
 stealers meetings in Barnes or other out places, where 
 (twenty or more in a company) they ingender 
 male and female, every one catching her whom 
 he doth best fancy : the stronger and more 
 sturdy, keeping the weaker in subjection : their 
 language is bawdy talke, damned oathes, and 
 plots where to filch the next morning, which 
 they performe betim.es : rising as earely as the Sun, 
 & in joyning their punckes to looke out for cheates, 
 to make their meeting at night the merrier. 
 
 A Pr'tgger of Prancers, 
 
 A P rigger of Prancers is a horse-stealer, for to 
 Prig, signifies in the Canting language to steale, 
 and Prancer signifies a horse. These walke (in 
 frieze or lether Jerkins) with a wand in their 
 hands, watching in what pasture any horses fit for 
 their turne, and those within three or foure nights 
 after are conveyd away at the least 60 miles 
 from the place : if they meete the Oivners in 
 their ground, they have shifts to avoide his sus- 
 pition by feigning they have lost their way to 
 such a towne. These / Hackney men that let 
 out horses will request service at gentlemen's 
 houses, their skill being to keep a Gelding well, 
 and if they get entertainment, they stand to their 
 word, for they kcepe the Gelding so well, that 
 his Maister shall never finde fault with any 
 disease he hath, unlesse it be that he had the 
 dizzines in his head, which made him reele out 
 of his stable to bee sold forty miles off at a fayre. 
 These have their female spyes that Survey
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 97 
 
 medowes and Closes, and long onely for horse- The 
 flesh. tricks of 
 
 the 
 A Palltard. paUiard 
 
 A Pa/Iiard comes next into my minde, and he 
 likewise is cal'd a Clapperdugeon : his upper 
 garment is an olde cloake made of as many pieces 
 patch'd together, as there be villanies in him : 
 this PaUiard never goes without a Mort at his 
 heeles whom he calles his wife : Being either in 
 the streete of a citty or in a country village, they 
 divide themselves and beg almes at severall doores, 
 but whatsoever is gotten (be it bread, cheese, 
 malt, or wooll) they sell it to some Rogue or 
 other, and with ye money are merry at a 
 Bonvs'ing Ken, A PaUiard carryes about him 
 (for feare of the worst) a Certificate (under a 
 ministers hand with the parishes name, which shall 
 be sure to stand farre enough) where this Mort 
 and he were marryed, when all is but forged : 
 many Irishmen are of this lowsie Regiment^ and 
 some Welchmen : And the better either to draw 
 pitty from men, as also to give cullor to their 
 lame wandring ; with Spereivort or Arsenick 
 will they in one night poyson their leg be it 
 never so sound, and raise a blister, which at 
 their pleasure they can take off againe. 
 
 A Prater. 
 
 A Prater is a brother of as damned a broode as 
 the rest : his office is to travell with a long 
 wallet at his backe, and a blacke box at his 
 
 G
 
 98 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Collec- girdle, wherein is a pattent to beg for some 
 tors for Hospital! or Spittle house ; Many of which 
 hospitals pattents (especially if they be in paper or parch- 
 ment without the Great Seale) are counterfeit. 
 And those that are not so, serve the Bearers of 
 them but / as instruments to play the Knaves 
 by : for though they get never so much, the 
 poore creatures for whome they beg receive little 
 of it : they lye soaking with a Dopye in a typling 
 house, whilst the spittle wretches are ready to 
 starve for sustenance at home : let country 
 women returning from Markets if they be alone, 
 & in a dangerous place, take heede of these 
 Proctors, for they have the Art to unhorse them, 
 and a conscience to send them packing without 
 any peny in their purses. 
 
 A Quire Byrd. 
 
 Your Quire Birdes are such as have sung in such 
 cages as Ne'-jjgate or a country Gaole, and having 
 their bells given them to fly, they seeke presently 
 to build their nests under some honest mans 
 roofe, not with intent to bring him in any profit, 
 but onely to put themselves into money or apparell 
 (though it be by filching) and then they take 
 their flight. 
 
 An Ahraham-man. 
 
 Of all the mad rascalls (that are of this wing) 
 the Ahraham-man is the most phantastick : 
 The fellow (quoth this old Lady of the Lake 
 unto me) that sat halfe naked (at table to day)
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 99 
 
 from the girdle upward, is the best Abraham- Poor 
 man that ever came to my house and the notablest Tom's a- 
 villaine : he sweares he hath bin in bedlam, and ^°^^ 
 will talke frantickly of purpose ; you see pinnes 
 stuck in sundry places of his naked Hesh, especi- 
 ally in his armes, which paine hee gladly puts 
 himselfe to (beeing indeede no torment at all, 
 his skin is either so dead, with some fowle 
 disease, or so hardned with weather,) onely to 
 make you beleeve he is out of his wits : he calls 
 himselfe by the name of Poore Tom^ and com- 
 ming neere any body, cryes out, Pooi-e Tom is a 
 cold. Of these Abraham-men, some be exceed- 
 ing mery, and doe nothing but sing songs, 
 fashioned out of their owne braines, some will 
 dance, others will doe nothing but either laugh 
 or weepe, others are dogged and so sullen both 
 in looke and speech, that spying but small 
 company in a house, they boldly and bluntly 
 enter, compelling the servants through feare to 
 give them what they demaund, which is / com- 
 monly bacon, or some thing that will yeelde 
 ready mony. The Upright-man, and the Rogue 
 are not terribler enemies to poultry ware, than 
 Poore Tom is ; neither does any man shift cleane 
 lynnen oftener than he does his wenches. 
 
 A Whtpjach. 
 
 Then is there another sort of nymble fingred 
 knaves, and they are called Whipjacks : who 
 talke of nothing but fights at Sea, piracies, 
 drownings and shipwracks, travelling both in the 
 shape and names of Mariners, with a counter-
 
 loo THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Travel- feit Licence to beg from towne to towne, which 
 lers' tales licence they call a Gybe^ and the Seales to it, 
 lacks '^^^^^^' Their cullor of wandring from Shire 
 to shire, (especially along the Sea-coasts) is to 
 harken after their ship that was overthrowne, or 
 for the merchandize stolne out of her, but the 
 end of their land-voiages is to rob Boothes at 
 fayres, which they call Heaving of the Booth. 
 These Whip jacks will talke of the Indies, and of 
 all countries that lye under heaven, but are 
 indeede no more than fresh water Soldiers. 
 
 A counterfet Cranhe, 
 
 Baser in habit, and more vile in condition 
 than the Whipjack, is the Counterfet cranke : who 
 in all kind of weather, going halfe naked, 
 staring wildly with his eyes, and appearing 
 distracted by his lookes, complayning onely 
 that he is troubled with the falling sicknes : 
 Albeit you give them cloathes they wil weare 
 none, but rather with those rags which they 
 have hanging about them should be made loth- 
 some by myre, or their naked bosome and Armes 
 to appeare full of bruises, and to be bloudy with 
 falling, therby to kyndle in men the greater 
 compassion : to cause that foaming in their 
 mouthes, which is fearefuU to behold by the 
 standers by, they have this trick, privily to 
 convey a peece of white soape into one corner 
 of their Jawes, which causeth that froth to come 
 boyling forth. These Crankes have likewise 
 there meetings, and there wenches at com- 
 mand.
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON loi 
 
 A j Dummerar, 
 
 Equall to the Cranck in dissembling is the ^ 
 Dummerar, for as the other takes upon him to v^eddin^ 
 have the falling sicknesse, so this counterfets 
 Dumbnes ; but let him be whipped well and his 
 tongue (which he doubles in his mouth, and so 
 makes a horrid and strange noise in stead of 
 speech) will walke as fast, as his handes doe 
 when hee comes where any booty is. 
 
 A Jack-man and a Patr'tco. 
 
 And because no common wealth can stand 
 without some Learning in it. Therefore are 
 there some in this Schoole of Beggers, that 
 practise writing and Reading, and those are 
 called Jackmen : yea the Jackman is so cunning 
 sometimes that he can speake Latine : which 
 learning of his, lifts him up to advancement, for 
 by that means he becomes Clarke of their Hall, 
 and his office is to make counterfet licences, 
 v/hich are called Gybes, to which hee puts seales, 
 and those are termed Jarkes. This Jackman 
 (for his knowledge) is hayle fellow well met with 
 a Patrico, who amongst Beggers is their priest ; 
 every hedge beeing his parish, every wandring 
 harlot and Rogue his parishioners, the service he 
 sayes, is onely the marrying of couples, which 
 he does in a wood under a tree, or in the open 
 field, and the solemnity of it, is thus. The 
 parties to be wedded, find out a dead horse, or 
 any other beast, and standing one on the one 
 side and the other on the other, the Patrico bids
 
 102 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The them to live together till death them part, and so 
 
 begging shaking hands, the wedding dinner is kept at the 
 
 and^oack^- °^^^ Ale-house they stumble into, where the 
 
 man musick is nothing but knocking with kannes, and 
 
 their dances none but drunken Braivks, 
 
 An Irish Toyk, 
 
 In this Forrest of Wilde-men^ the safest Toyles 
 to pitch is the Irish Toyle, which is a net so 
 strongly and cunningly woven together, that 
 they who goe a hunting with it catch the 
 Common / wealth, and connycatch the subjects : 
 For an Iris/j Toyk is a sturdy vagabond, who 
 scorning to take paines that may make him 
 sweat, stalkes onely up and downe the country 
 with a wallet at his backe, in which he caries 
 laces, pinnes, points, and such like, and under 
 cullor of selling such wares, both passeth too 
 and fro quietly, and so commits many villanies as 
 it were by warrant. 
 
 A Swigman, 
 
 Like unto him in conditions is a Sivig-man or 
 Pedler, carving a pack behinde him in stead of a 
 wallet : their trades are all one, saving that the 
 Swigman is somewhat better in behaviour, 
 though little differing in honesty. They both 
 stand in feare of the Upright-man and are 
 forced oftentimes to pay him toale out of their 
 packes.
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 103 
 
 A Ktnchyn Co, 
 
 The last Ranhe of these Runnagates is filled up Youthful 
 with Ktnchyn Goes ; and they are little boyes thieves of 
 whose parents (having beene beggers) are dead, "°"^ 
 or else such as have run away from their 
 maisters, and in stead of a trade to live by, 
 follow this kinde of life to be lowsie by. These 
 Kinchins^ the first thing they doe is to learne how 
 to Cant, and the onely thing they practise is to 
 creepe in at windowes, or Celler doores. 
 
 Thus have I opened unto you halfe the nest 
 of this generation of Vipers, now will I dis- 
 cover the other halfe, wherein sits a broode of 
 Serpents as daungerous and as lothsome as these. 
 Of which the Tong-ones and the Least, are 
 called K'lnching Marts, and those are girles of 
 a yeare or two old, which the Morts (their 
 mothers) carry at their backes in their Elates 
 (which in the Canting Tongue are Sheetes) : 
 if they have no children of their owne, they will 
 steale them from others, and by some meane 
 disfigure them, that by their parents they shall 
 never be knowne. The second bird of this 
 fether is a Dell, and that is a young wench, ripe 
 for the Act of generation, but as yet not spoyled 
 of her maidenhead : these Dells are reserved as 
 dishes for the Upright-men^ for none but they 
 must have the first tast of / them ; and after the 
 Upright-men have deflowred them, (which 
 commonly is when they are very yong) then are 
 they free for any of the brother-hood, and are 
 called Dells no more but Dopers. Of these 
 Dells, some are termed IVilde Dells, and those
 
 104 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The are such as are borne and begotten under a 
 female hedge : the other are yong wenches that either 
 the com- ^^ death of parents, the villanie of Executors, 
 munity of or the crueltie of maisters and mistresses fall 
 beggars into this infamous and damnable course of life. 
 When they have gotten the title of Dopies, 
 then are they common for any, and walke for 
 the most part with their betters (who are a 
 degree above them) called Morts, but wherso- 
 ever an Upright-man is in presence, the Doxye 
 is onely at his command : These Doxyes will 
 for good victuals or a small peice of money, 
 prostitute there bodies to servingmen if they can 
 get into any convenient corner about their maisters 
 houses, & to ploughmen in barnes, haylofts or 
 stables : they are common pick-pockets, familiars 
 (with the baser sorts of cut-purses,) and often- 
 times secret murtherers of those infants which are 
 begotten of their bodies. These Dopyes have 
 one especial badge to be knowne by, for most of 
 them goe working of laces, and shirt stringes, 
 or such like stuffe, only to give colour to their 
 idle wandring. 
 
 Of Morts there be two kindes, that is to say, 
 A ivalh'ing Mort and an Autem-mort : the IValk- 
 tng-Mort is of more antiquitie than a Dopye, and 
 therefore of more knaverie : they both are 
 unmarried, but the Doxy professes herselfe to bee 
 a maide, (if it come to examination) and the 
 Walking Mort says shee is a widow, whose 
 husband dyed either in the Portugall voyage^ 
 was slaine in Ireland^ or the Loiv Countries, or 
 came to his end by some other misfortune, 
 leaving her so many small infants on her hand
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 105 
 
 in debt, whome not being able by her honest The 
 labour to maintaine she is compelled to begge. walking 
 These Walking Moris travell from Country to ^^r' 
 Countrie, making laces (upon staves) and small jj^Q^^-g" 
 purses, and now and then white vallance for 
 beds : Subtile queanes they are, hard-harted, 
 light-fingerd, cunning in dissembling, and danger- 
 ous to be met if any Rufler or Roague bee in 
 their company. They feare neither God nor 
 good lawes, but onely are kept in aw by the 
 Upright-men, who often times spoyle them of 
 all they have, which to prevent, the Walking 
 Marts use this pollicy, they leave their money 
 (sometime five shillings, / sometimes ten 
 shillings) in severall shires, with some honest 
 farmers wife or others whom they know they 
 may trust, and when they travell that way 
 againe, at halfe yeares end, or a quarters, fetch 
 it to serve their turnes : but dare never goe in 
 good clothes, least the Upright-men either strip 
 them into rags, or else starke naked, as they use 
 to doe. 
 
 An Autem Mart, is a woman married, (for 
 Autem in the Beggers language is a Church :) 
 these Morts seldom keepe with their husbands, 
 but are from them sometimes a moneth or two, 
 yet never walke they without a man in their 
 company, and boyes and girles at their heeles of 
 ten or twelve yeares old, whome they imploy at 
 windowes of houses in the night time, or earely in 
 the mornings, to pilfer away any thing that is 
 worth the carying away, (which in their tongue) 
 they call Nilling of the Ken. These Autem 
 Morts walke with wallets on their shoulders, &
 
 io6 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Female Slates (or sheetes) at their backes, in which they 
 pedlars ^gg ^.^ |jg^ Their husbands commonly are 
 Rufflers, Upright-men, or Wilde Rogues, and their 
 companions of the same breede. 
 
 There is another Parrot, (in this Bird-cage) 
 whose feathers are more sleeke, and tongue more 
 smooth than the rest ; and she is called A Bawdy 
 basket : These Baivdy baskets are women that 
 walke with baskets or capcases on their armes, 
 wherein they have laces, pinnes, needles, white 
 inckle, tape, round white silke gerdels, and such 
 like : these will buy Conny Skinnes, and in the 
 meane time steale linnen or pewter : they are 
 faire - spoken, and will seldome sweare whilst 
 they are selling their waires ; but will lye with 
 any man that hath a mind to their commodities. 
 The Upright-men and These hold such league 
 together, that whatsoever they have is common 
 to them both, and oftentimes will they with 
 money relieve one another. 
 
 The selfe same IVuce is taken betweene the 
 Upright men and the Demaunders of Glymmer, 
 that is to say, those who travell up and downe 
 with licenses to begge, because their houses have 
 been consumed with fire, for Glymmer (in canting) 
 signifies fire. These Glymmering Morts are so 
 tender hearted, that they shed teares if they make 
 but mention of their losses, and tel a lamentable 
 story how the fire destroyed their barnes, stables, 
 &c., all that they speake being meere lyes : they 
 likewise carrie wallets at their backes, and are 
 onely attended upon and defended / by the Up- 
 right-men, who never walke along with them 
 through any towne, but keepe aloofe.
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 107 
 
 And these (quoth the Hostesse of the Beggers) The 
 are all or the cheefest (both Hee-D'fvels and ^^""^^ 
 Shee-Dhels) that daunce in this large circle. I Kp ^ 
 have brought you acquainted with their names, in London 
 their natures, their tradings, and their trafficke ; 
 if you have a desire to know more of them, 
 you shall find whole congregations of them, at 
 Saint Quint ens. The three-Cranes in the Fintry, 
 Saint Tybs and at Knapsburie, which foure 
 places are foure several! barnes within one mile 
 compasse neere London, being but Nick-names 
 given to them by the Upright-men : In those 
 Innes doe they lodge every night ; in those doe 
 Upright'tnen lie with Morts^ and turne Dels into 
 Doxyes (that is to say, ravish young wenches) 
 whilst the Rogue is glad to stand at Reversion 
 and to take the others leavings. In Middlesex 
 likewise stand foure other Harbours for them, 
 namely. Draw the pudding out of thejire, (which 
 is in the parish of Harrow on the Hill.) ; The 
 Crosse Keyes, (which is in Cranford parish,) 
 Saint Julians, (which is in Thistleworth parish.) 
 And the house of Pitty in Northall Parish. The 
 Kinges Barne neere Darford, and Ketbrooke neere 
 Blackheath, are likewise houses of good receite 
 for them : In all Shires have they such Innes as 
 these ; and in all of them and these recited, shall 
 you find sometimes 40. Upright-men together in- 
 gendring beggers with their M.orts. No sinne 
 but is here committed without shame. Adultery 
 is common amongst them, Incest but laughed at. 
 Sodomy made a jest : At these Havens do they 
 cast anchor boldly, because none are by to barre 
 their entrance ; yea those that are owners of
 
 io8 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The these Barnes and Back-houses, dare not but give 
 
 hostess welcome to these Unruly Guests ; for if they 
 ends her , , , , , , -^ . ' , ^ 
 
 recital ^^"^"^"^ ^^^ ^"^7 would at one time or other set 
 fire of their houses, or by blody and treacherous 
 practises take away their lives. For this cause 
 sir, (quoth shee) am I glad to looke smilingly 
 upon them, and to play the Hostes, because my 
 abiding stands so farre from company, yet I protest 
 (quoth shee) I hate the sight of them, as know- 
 ing them to be hell - hounds, and have made 
 discovery of their divelish conditions, because you 
 may teach others how to avoide them : And 
 howsoever you may be drawen peradventure to 
 publish these abuses to the world (sayd shee) 
 yet I pray conceale my name, the publishing of 
 which may cost me my life. 
 
 By / this tyme, the fumes of Ale which had 
 distempered her braines, and set her tongue a 
 going were dispersed ; so that both her lookes and 
 speech shewing that she did not now desemble : 
 but uttered these things unfainedly, 1 gave her 
 many thanks for her Discovery, councelled 
 her to change her discomfortable Lodgings and to 
 dwell in a place more inhabited, (which shee 
 promised to doe) and away I went. A thousand 
 cogitations kept mee company as I traveled alone 
 by my selfe : Sorry I was to heare that in those 
 places where Innocence and Simplicity should be 
 borne, so much, and such ugly Vilany should be 
 nourished, yet was I glad that I came to the 
 knowledge of their evils, because the dressing of 
 such wounds in a Commonwealth, is the curing 
 of them. 
 
 Looking therefore with more pearcing eyes
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 109 
 
 into the Country -life, I began to hate it worse The sins 
 than (before) I loved it, I fell to dispraise it of the 
 faster than ever I did commend it. For I found it country 
 full of care, and full of craft ; full of labour, and 
 yet full of penury ; I saw the poore husbandman 
 made a slave to the rich farmour ; the farmour 
 racked by his landlord : I saw that covetousnesse 
 made deere yeares when she had fullest barnes ; 
 and to cursse plentie for being liberal of her 
 blessings. I had heard of no sinne in the Cittie, 
 but I met it in the village ; nor any Fice in the 
 tradesman, which was not in the ploughman. 
 All places therefore being haunted with evill 
 Spirits, I forsooke the fieldes and the Moun- 
 taines, and took my journey backe againe to the 
 Citie, whose customes (both good and bad) I 
 desired to be acquainted with. It was my 
 fortune to travell so late, that the Moone had 
 clymed up to the very top of Midnight, before 
 I had enterance into the gates of the Cittie, 
 which made me make the more hast to my 
 lodging. But in my passage, I first heard (in 
 some good distance before me) the sound of a 
 bell, and then of a mans voice, both whose 
 tunes seemed at that dead houre of the night 
 verie doleful. On I hastened to know what 
 noyse it should be, and in the end found it to be 
 The Bell-man of London. The sound of his 
 Foice at the first put me in mind of the day of 
 Judgement; Men (me thought) starting out of 
 their sleepes, at the Ringing of his bell, as then 
 they are to rise from their graves at the call of a 
 trumpet: But when I approached neare unto 
 him, and beheld a man with a lanthorne and
 
 no THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The bell- candle in his hand, a long stafFe on his / necke, 
 man and and a dog at his tayle, I supposed verily, because 
 his work ^^^ Moone shon somewhat dimly, that the Man 
 in the Moone had lept downe from heaven and 
 (for hast) had left his bush of thornes behind 
 him. But these Imaginations vanishing, as fast 
 as they were begotten : I began to talke to my 
 Be/I-man, and to aske him, why with such a 
 Jangling, and balling, and beating at Mens 
 doores hee went about to waken either poore 
 men that were over-wearyed with labour, or sick 
 men that had most neede of rest ? hee made 
 answere unto me, that the Ringing of his Bellf 
 was not (like an Allarum in a towne of garrison,) 
 to fright the inhabitants, but rather it was 
 musick to charme them faster with sleepe : the 
 Beating at their doores assured those within that 
 no theeves were entred, nor that false servants 
 had wilfully or negligently suffered the doores 
 to stand open, to have their maisters robd ; and 
 that his crying out so loud, was but like the 
 shrill Good Morroiu of a Cock to put men (that 
 had wealth enough) in minde of the time how it 
 slydeth away, and to bid those that were full of 
 businesse to be watchfuU for their due houres 
 when they were to rise. He cald himselfe 
 therefore the Centinell of the Citty, the watch- 
 man for everie ward, the honest Spy that dis- 
 covered the prentizes of the night, and that as a 
 lanthorne in the poope of a Ship, was a guide or 
 comfort to sea-men in most pitchy darknesse, so 
 was his walking up and downe in the night time, 
 a prevention to the Citty oftentimes of much and 
 many daungerous fires. I lik'd well that thus
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON in 
 
 he praised himselfe, because in those praises lay -pj^g j^gji 
 the commendation of an honourable, civill, and man re- 
 pollitick government. And so farre delt I with lates his 
 him that in the end he brought me acquainted ^^cp^n- 
 with his office, as well as hee knew it himselfe, ^"^^^ 
 and discovered unto me the properties of his 
 ivalkes, as how farre his boundes reached ; what 
 mad hobgoblins hee oftentimes encountred with, 
 what mischiefes he now and then prevented, what 
 knaveries he was now and then an eye witnesse 
 to, and to what secret villanies (brought to bed 
 in darknesse) he was compeld to be (though not 
 the midwife) yet a gossip, present at the labour 
 and deliverie. Of all which I having a longing 
 desire to get the true pictures, and perswading 
 him that he was bound by his place, by his 
 conscience, and by the lawes of common 
 humanity to lay open such plots as were so / 
 dangerous to the common wealth whereof he 
 was a member, he yeelded at the length to 
 discover ail that he knew : And for that purpose 
 not only caryed me home to his lodging where 
 he gave me the notes and names of sundry abuses 
 begotten in the dead of night. But also went up 
 and downe the Citty with me all the next day, 
 shewing me the very doores and signes at which 
 thev dwelt, and the very faces of those that were 
 the divells Factors in those lowe countrie com- 
 modities of hell. I learnt much by the Bell- 
 mans intelligence but more afterwards by my 
 owne observation and experience : what mer- 
 chandize I stored my selfe with by both the 
 Foiages here doe I unlade, and what profit so 
 ever arises by the trafficke of them, shall if you
 
 112 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Vice please be wholy yours. And for that the Lading 
 wears the ^^^g of sundry commodities, I will deliver them 
 
 ^^virtue ^^^^^ ^° ^^^^^ severall parcells, as I received 
 
 them. 
 
 Oj cheating Lawe, 
 
 All f^'tces maske themselves with the vizards of 
 Vertuc. they borrowe their names, the better 
 and more currantly to passe without suspition : 
 for murder will be called Manhood^ Dronhennesse 
 is now held to be Phisick, Impudence is Audacitie^ 
 Ryot, good fellowship &c. So are these Villanies 
 (whose faces I meane to discover) paynted over 
 with fresh orient cullers, because their lookes 
 may be more pleasing, and lesse suspected to 
 have craft underneath them. And for that 
 purpose have their Knaveries gotten the names of 
 Arts or Lawes, as the Act of such a Thing or 
 such a law, not that they are institutions set 
 downe by law for the good of men, or of a 
 common-wealth ; but as the Law is grounded 
 upon Reason^ and hath Maximes of Justice, upon 
 which she buildeth all her Pollicies whereby 
 shee governs kingdomes. So these new-found 
 Laives of the Divels invention, are grounded 
 upon Mischiefe, and are nothing else but certaine 
 Acts and Rules, drawne into heads (in an 
 assembly of damned Wretches) for the utter 
 undoing of Men, and confusion of a Weak 
 Puhlicke. 
 
 Of all which Laives, the Highest in place, and 
 the Highest in perdition is the Cheating Law or 
 the Art of winning money by false dyce : Those
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 113 
 
 that practise this studie call themselves Cheators^ Cheaters 
 / the dyce Cheaters^ and the money which they 
 purchase Cheates : borrowing the tearme from 
 our common Lawyers, with whome all such 
 casuals as fall to the Lord at the holding of his 
 Leetesy as IVaifes, Strayes, and such like, are sayd 
 to be Escheated to the Lords use and are called 
 Cheates. This sort of Gamesters, were at first a 
 few in number, (the Art being odious) they 
 were poore, (as being hated and driven from all 
 good mens company.) But now, there are so 
 many profest Cheators and so many that give 
 countenance to their occupation, that they might 
 make an armie sufficient to give the Turhe a 
 battaile : now are they not hungry thread bare 
 knaves, but gallants that russle in silkes, and are 
 whorryed through the streetes in Coaches, their 
 purses being full of crownes, and their fingers 
 being held up able to command the prowdest 
 Curtizan. Yea to such a ranckenes hath 
 custome brought this Vice, and to such a bold- 
 nesse, that in the most noble assemblies, at the 
 Best Ordinaries where your onely Gallants spend 
 afternoones, and in your most civill meetings of 
 Merchants, your welthiest Cittizens, if they fall 
 to play with dyce for any round summes of 
 money. It is now growne to a fashion to 
 have some one or other to take up the 
 Cheators weapons, and (without all respect of 
 honesty, friendship, or societie) to beate all 
 commers. 
 
 A Cheator playes his Maisters prize at 14. 
 severall weapons, and those weapons are 
 these.
 
 114 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The Names of false Dyce, 
 
 The tools A Bale of bard sincke Deivces, 
 
 of the J 2ale of Flat sincke De-ujces. 
 cheater ^ ^^^^ ^j. j^^ ^.^^ ^^^^^ 
 
 ^ Bale of bard sice Aces. 
 A Bale of bard Cater- Treas, 
 A Bale of Flat Cater -Treas. 
 A Bale of Fullams. 
 A Bale of Tight Cramers. 
 A Bale of Langrets, contrary to the vantage. 
 A Bale of GordeSf ivith as many High nun as 
 Lozv men for Passage. 
 A Bale of Demies. 
 
 A Bale of Long Dyce for even and od. 
 A Bale of Bristles. 
 A Bale of Direct Contraries. 
 
 These are the 14. divelish hookes, by which 
 the Cheater angles for other mens money ; hee 
 cares not in what river, hee makes no conscience 
 with what baite, so hee may have good draughts 
 to maintaine himselfe in riots, and his whore in 
 rich apparell, that's the white he shootes at. 
 Neither doth he let all these arrowes flie at one 
 marke, nor in all weathers. But some he 
 shootes in one game, some in another, and as he 
 findes what fooles are in his company, so does 
 he bestow his bolts. To set downe all the 
 Legierdemayne of this Handycraft, would perad- 
 venture instruct some ill-minded persons in that 
 villany, which is published onely to have others 
 shun it ; I will therefore shew you a few of 
 their jugling trickes (that are Graduates in the
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 1x5 
 
 Art) and by the shape of them, judge the rest, The use 
 for all are alike. j>f the 
 
 A Langret is a Dye, which simple men have ^"S^et 
 seldome heard of, and happily never seene (but 
 to their cost.) It is (to the eye of him that is 
 but a Novice) a Good and Square Die, yet it is 
 cut longer upon the Cater and Trea, then upon 
 any other point, and is for that cause called a 
 Langret : these Langrets are also called Bard 
 Cater Jreas, because in the running, the longer 
 end wil commonly (of his owne sway) draw 
 downewards, and turne eyther Sice, Sincke, 
 Deivce, or Ace upwardes on the board ; the 
 principall use of them is at Novum. For so 
 long as a paire of Bard Cater Treas, be walking, 
 so long can you cast neither 5. nor 9. unless it 
 be by great Chance, that the rooghnes of the 
 table, or some other stoppe force them to stay, 
 and to runne against their kind ; for without 
 Cater, Trea, 5. or 9. you know can never 
 come. 
 
 Here some may imagine, that by this meanes 
 hee that hath the first Dyce in his hand, may 
 strip all that play at the table of their money ; 
 but this must be their helpe. An odde die 
 called a Flat Cater Trea, (and no other number) 
 is to be readie at hand, for granting the Trea 
 and Cater to be alwayes upon the one Dye, then is 
 there no Chance upon the other Dye but may 
 serve to make 5. or 9. and so cast forth and 
 loose all. 
 
 The Cheater therefore marketh well the Flat, 
 and bendeth a great part of his studie to learne 
 when he is abroad, for so long as that is stirring,
 
 ii6 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 ^ystiri^ he will never Cast at Much. The shift which 
 ^o do^ ^ / cheater is driven to, in conveying the Flat in 
 and out, is a notable cunning, and in their Trade 
 is cald Foy sting : which is nothing else but a 
 sleight to carry Dice easily in the hand so often 
 as the Foister iisteth ; so that when either he or 
 his partner casteth the Dyce, the Flat comes not 
 abroad till he hath made a Great Hand, other- 
 wise the Flat is still sure to be One, unlesse the 
 Cheator of purpose suffers the silly Novices, with 
 whome hee playes, to cast in a hand or two to 
 give them courage and to live in hope ot 
 winning. 
 
 The damnable Oaths and Quarrels that waite 
 at the table of Gamesters, are occasion that many 
 men forbeare to venture money in those sports, 
 who otherwise would play ; the Cheator therforc 
 (being a cunning observer of all fashions) will 
 seldome sweare, (if he have gotten a Gull into 
 his company, whom he is loath to anger for feare 
 hee loose him,) and as seldome swagger, but 
 will rather put up an open wrong, then by a 
 foolish braule to breake off the company, and so 
 hinder himselfe and his consort of purchase : 
 But if hee sweare you would take him for a 
 puritane, for his oathes are. Of Honesty, of Troth, 
 by Saint Martin ^c. and take this note, that 
 when he sweares affirmatively, he meanes alwaies 
 the contrary. As for example, if I say unto 
 you when the Dyce come to your handes, 0/ 
 Honesty cast at all, my meaning is, you shall 
 cast at the table, or else at very little . or if 
 when one being stript out of all his money, offer 
 to pawne a Ring or a Jewell, and I sweare by
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 117 
 
 Saint Martin I think it is fine gold, then doe I The 
 meane that it is pure copper, and so of the rest : cheater 
 He that is drawn in to venture his money, is cozen 
 (amongst this cursed brotherhood of Cheators) 
 tearmed a Cozen, and is handled so kindly, as if 
 he were a cozen indeede : if hee once set in a 
 foote, and that they fall to Hunt him, then all 
 the craft is to make the Conny sweate, that is to 
 say, so wisely to handle him, that he may have 
 a desire more and more to play and to keepe 
 company ; yet so warily to encrease this appetite 
 in him that hee Smoake not the Cheator, which 
 is, that hee smell not what knavery is bent 
 against him, and so slip the coller like a Hound, 
 and shake off the company for ever. 
 
 At the Taking up of a Co%en, the first Feny 
 that a Cheator gives him, is to learne before he 
 play what store of Bit he hath in his Bay, that is, 
 what money he hath in his purse, and whether 
 / it be in Great cogges or Bmall^ that is, in gold 
 or silver, and at what game hee will soonest 
 stoope ; for that being knowne his humor is 
 fed, and he is choked with the meate he loves 
 best. For some that will not play a groate at 
 Novum, will loose a hundred pound at Hazard, 
 and he that will not lose a shilling at Dyce, will 
 play away his patrimony at Gardes ; for which 
 cause the Cheator furnisheth himselfe for all 
 voyages, but specially provides for Jine cheates, 
 and to atchive which with more ease, hee ac- 
 quaints himselfe with Dyce-makers, that worke 
 in corners, (Varlets they are that are Factors to 
 the divell, and for money will exchange their 
 soules in a bayle of Dyce.) These Dyce-makers
 
 ii8 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The arme the Cheator with the foresaid 14. weapons, 
 cheater s ^^^ ^j^^^ jg j^g ^ C hater compleate. 
 
 ^ ^ One notable poUicy is (as a i^w/<f) set downe 
 in this Schoole of cheating^ and that is, a Cheator 
 never discovereth the secrets of his Art to any : 
 unlesse it be to such a one, who being left by his 
 parents rich in money and possessions, hath to 
 the musicke of square ratling bones danced so 
 long, that hee hath danced him selfe into the 
 company of beggers, and is brought to such 
 want and miserie, that hee would leave no sione 
 unturnd to finde a pennie under it. Such a 
 wretch is instructed in those Fillanies, by which 
 he hiraselfe hath beene wrought to infamie: the 
 poyson that once he swallowed doth hee now cast 
 up to kill others with it. Neither doth the 
 Cheator bestow this learning upon his young 
 Scholler, out of a commisseration of his low 
 estate, but onely to make use of him, even in the 
 heigth of his extremitie. His Jornyman there- 
 fore doth he make him, and because the Cheator 
 is happily a man so noted in all companies, that 
 few or none will venture money where he playes, 
 the Novice is taught to play his Scollers prize, 
 whilst the other stands by and lookes on, yet 
 so that the Cheator hath the sweetnes of the 
 gaines. The Novices imployments then are 
 amongst his rich K'lnred, Countrimen or ac- 
 quaintance to fmd out Cozens ; whome hee 
 must by one tricke or other get to a Taverne, or 
 invite them to a supper, at the end of which, the 
 Cheator layes about him to draw them to play, 
 and secretly lends his Pup'tll money, to maintaine 
 game, both their wits working how to cheate
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 119 
 
 those that are in the company. We have beene Card 
 too long at Dyce, let us now fail to Gardes. cheaters 
 
 Of I Barnards Law. 
 
 Dyce and Gardes are Tnvynnes, Idlenes was 
 the father of them, Desire of Gaines the mother, 
 Honest Recreation saies she, was their nursie and 
 ought to have the bringing of them up, but 
 (howsoever) the Divell makes them now his 
 adopted children, and no wonder, for they are 
 alike in conditions, as being both (like him) full 
 of deceipt : if there be cozenage in tripping of a 
 dye, there is the like craft in shuffling and sort- 
 ing of a paire of Gardes, insomuch that what 
 game soever is on foote, He that is marked out 
 to be the Looser (by the »9)'«0(2'/V^// assembly and 
 Fathers of the Bernards Laiv^j is sure never to 
 depart a Wynner, 
 
 To speake of all the slights used by Card- 
 players, in al sorts of Games, would but weary 
 you that are to read, and bee but a thank [l]es 
 and unpleasing labour for me to set them downe. 
 Omitting therefore the deceipts practised (even in 
 the fairest and most civill companies) at Primero, 
 Saunt, Maw, Tromp, and such like games, I 
 will onely lay open the villanies of a base kind 
 of people, that travell up and downe the whole 
 land, sometimes in the habit of Gentlemen, 
 sometimes of Servingmen, sometimes of Grasiers, 
 Farmers, and plaine fellowes, maintaining them- 
 selves onely by the cozenage they use in Carde- 
 playing : which kind of Play of theirs, they call 
 The Barnards Laio.
 
 120 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The 'Pq Act which knavish Comedy of JVily- 
 Willv- ^^S^'hi 5* Persons are required, and those are, 
 
 Beguily 
 
 1 The Taker, 
 
 2 The Cozen. 
 
 3 The lerser. 
 
 4 The Barnard, 
 
 5 The Rutter. 
 
 These are the Players : and now shall you 
 heare their parts. 
 
 1 The Taker, is he that by some fine invention 
 fetcheth in the Man, whome they desire to draw 
 into Gaming. 
 
 2 The Cozen, is the partie that is Taken. 
 
 3 The Verser, is a fellow more Grave in 
 speech and habit, and seemes / to be a Landed 
 man ; his part is to second what the Taker 
 begins, and to give countenance to the Act. 
 
 4 The Bernard is the chiefe Player, for hee 
 counterfets many parts in one, and is now a 
 drunken man, anon in another humour, and 
 shifts himselfe into so many shapes, onely to 
 blind the Cozen, and to feede him with more 
 delight, the more easily to beguile him. 
 
 5 The Rutter is as arrant a knave as the rest ; 
 his part is discharged, when hee hath begun a 
 fray with his owne shadow, whilst the rest that 
 have made a younger brother of the poore Cozen, 
 steale out of sight. Now to the Comedy it 
 selfe. The prologue of which li it goe off well, 
 there is good hope all shall end well : All the 
 cunning thereof is how to Begin, and to doe that 
 the Taker studies his part at his fingers ends.
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 121 
 
 The Stage on which he playes the Prologue, is The 
 either in Fleetestreete, the Strond, or in Poules, stage for 
 and most commonly in the afternoone, when ^^^ 
 Country Clyents are at most leysure to walke in ^^^^^7 
 those places, or for dispatching of their businesse, 
 travell from Lawyer to Lawyer, through 
 Chancery lane, Holburne, and such like places. 
 In this heate of running to and fro, if a plaine 
 fellow well and cleanly apparrelled, either in 
 home-spunne russet, or freeze, (as the Season 
 requires) with a side pouch at his girdle happen 
 to appeare in his rusticall likenesse. There is a 
 Cozen sayes one. At which word out flies the 
 Taker, and thus gives the onset upon my old 
 Penny-father. Sir, God save you, you are 
 welcome to London, how doe all our good 
 friends in the Countrie ? I hope they be wel : 
 the Russetting amazed at these salutations of a 
 stranger, replies : Sir, all our friendes in the 
 Contrie are in health, but pray pardon me, I 
 know you not beleeve it : No (answeres the 
 Taker) are you not a Lancashire man, or of such 
 a Country ? if he say, yes, then the Fish nibbles 
 and he gives him more line to play with, if hee 
 say, no, then the Taker hath about with another 
 weapon and sweares soberly, In good sooth sir, 
 I know your face, and am sure we have beene 
 merry together, I pray (if I may beg it without 
 offence) bestow your name upon me, and your 
 dwelling place. The innocent Man, suspecting 
 no poison in this gilded cup, tels him presently 
 his name and abiding, by what gentlemen hee 
 dwels &c. which being / done, the Taker (for 
 thus interrupting him in his way, and for the
 
 122 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 How the wrong in mistaking him for another) offers a quarr 
 ^P^^^ ^H ^^ wine : if the Cozen be such an Asse to goe 
 into a taverne, then he is sure to be unckled, but 
 if hee smacice my Taker and smell gun-powder 
 traines, yet will not be blowne up ; they part 
 fairely ; and then to the Verser goes the Taker, 
 discovering what he hath done, and delivers the 
 mans name, country, and dwelling to the Verser ; 
 who boldly stepping to him, or crossing the way 
 to meete him full in the face, takes acquaintance 
 presently of him, salutes him by his name, 
 inquires how such, and such gentlemen doe, that 
 dwell in the same towne by him, and albeit the 
 honest Hoh-nayle-nvearer, can by no meanes be 
 brought to remember this newe friend, yet, will 
 hee nill hee, to the taverne hee sweares to have 
 him, and to bestow upon him the best wine in 
 London. 
 
 Diverse other puUies (if these two faile) have 
 they to drawe simple men into their company, as 
 by dropping a shilling in the open way, which 
 being taken up in the Country mans sight, must 
 be spent in wine, because hee shall have his 
 Halfe-part : or by intreating him to step into a 
 taverne, til the Verser have writ a word or two 
 into the Countrie, which hee must carry to his 
 friends, offering the Cozen a shilling for his 
 paines. But the conclusion of all is, that if they 
 thinke his bag is well lyned with silver, to the 
 taverne by one subtle hooke or other, they will 
 pull him, where being set with the Verser and 
 the Taker, and wine called for : In comes the 
 Barnard stumbling into the Roome as it were by 
 chance, seeming to be halfe drunke : and crying
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 123 
 
 the company mercy for being so bold with them, The part 
 
 they modestly answere, no hurt is done, and of the 
 
 aske him if he will drinke with them : he takes ^^'^^^'^ 
 
 their offer, and sweares to pay for a pynte of 
 
 wine, which they by no meanes will suffer. 
 
 But the ^^r;?<3r^ telling them hee has money for 
 
 what hee cals, and using phrazes fit for a drunken 
 
 man, out fiies some twentie or fortie Angels on 
 
 the board which hee puts up presently againe, 
 
 and sayes, seing they will not suffer him to pay 
 
 for a pint, he will play at cards for it with any 
 
 one of them, at a new game which hee learnt 
 
 but now, with the losse onely of a pot of Ale. 
 
 The rest of his consort, making as though what 
 
 they do is to be rid / of him, are content to play 
 
 for a pynte and no more. The Taker or the 
 
 Ferser is the man must play with him, the 
 
 Cards are fetcht, Mumchance or Decoy is the 
 
 game : the first wager is wine, the second two 
 
 pence in money, from two pence they rise to a 
 
 shilling, from that to a pound, and having 
 
 drawne some good store of gold from the 
 
 Barnard, the Cozen (allured with the sweetnes 
 
 of gaine, and hope of wynning, seeing the other 
 
 halfe drunke, as he imagines) is offered to be 
 
 halfe in whatsoever is won : he stoopes to this 
 
 lure, but the bush is so well beaten by these 
 
 subtle fowlers, that in the end, all the birds are 
 
 fiowne out of the Cozens hand, and he hath not 
 
 one peny left him in his purse : if then he smell 
 
 the knaverie, and fall to calling for a Constable, 
 
 swearing the dronken rascall hath cozened him, 
 
 (for the Barnard you must know carries away 
 
 all the money) then enters the Rutter, who
 
 124 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The picking some ydle quarell either in the roome, 
 
 hunting- qj. ^j. {.j^g streete doore, the covy of ckeators take 
 
 Uie cheats ^^^^^ flight in the meane time, and that (with the 
 
 sharing of the purchase in another Taverne) is 
 
 the Epilogue to their comedy, but the first 
 
 Entrance to the poore countrymans Tragedy. 
 
 These commedians Stroivle likewise up and 
 downe the country in the habites of Servingmen, 
 and silly fellowes, haunting Bra'mford, Kingston^ 
 Croydon^ Rumford and such other places neerest 
 London upon the market dayes onely, and at the 
 end of market, when Butchers, Grasiers and others 
 whom they thinke to be stored with money are 
 on their way home, then will one of this crew 
 overtake them in ryding, and light at some towne 
 of purpose to mend his girt, to remove a shooe of 
 his horse, or upon any other excuse, intreating 
 the company (with whom he is newly acquainted) 
 to stay and drinke a pot with him in the meane 
 time. And in these country voyages doe they 
 Saile by other points of the compasse ; the windes 
 are not so boystrous, nor the Seas so rough as 
 the former, for here is there neither one that 
 playes the drunkard nor any that swaggers, but 
 these divelish Masquers passe under these names 
 at such meetings, viz. 
 
 I The party that fetcheth in the Gull (whose 
 feathers they meane to pluck) is not called the 
 Taker, but the Setter. 2 He that seconds him, 
 keepes his first Tytle and is called the terser. 
 3 He that looseth his money, not a Cozen but a 
 Cony. 4 He that comes / in and before counter- 
 feited the dronken Barnard is now sober and 
 called the Barnacle.
 
 THE BEL MAN OF LONDON 125 
 
 Sometimes likewise this Card-cheating , goes Bat- 
 not under the name of Barnard^ laive, but is fowling 
 called Batt fo'wling, and then ye Setter is the 
 Beater, the foole that is caught in the net, the 
 bird, the Taverne to which they repaire to work 
 the Feate, is the Bush ; the wine the Strap, and 
 the cardes the Limetivigs. 
 
 Thus have I discovered a strange Art, by 
 which Conyes are caught after a new maner of 
 hunting, and Cozens found out that were never 
 of the kindred before. Thus the honest farmer, 
 simply going about his businesse, is stripped of 
 that money, which should further his law-suites, 
 and so perhaps is overthrowne : Thus the 
 Servingman being sent with his lords treasure, is 
 cheated and tourned out of service : Thus the 
 prentice having his Maisters wealth in his hand 
 is robd (by tame theeves) and in the end driven 
 to run away or to dye in prison. Thus the 
 Gentleman comming new to his land is made a 
 begger. Thus the Merchant is undone. Thus 
 all men are abused. Thus the common wealth 
 is dishonored by feeding such vipers in her 
 wombe, that cannot live but by gnawing out her 
 bowels. 
 
 Ftncents Law, 
 
 The Dyeing cheator, and the cozening Card- 
 player, walke in the habites of Gentlemen, and 
 cary the faces of honest men. So likewise doe 
 those that are Students in the Vincents Latve : 
 whose Inne is a Bowling Alley, whose bookes 
 are bowles, and whose law cases are lurches and
 
 126 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The rubbers. The pastime of bowles is now growne 
 
 bankers to a common exercise, or rather a trade of which 
 
 Vincent's ^°"^^ °^ ^^^ companies are free ; the sport is not 
 
 Law so common as the cozenage used in it, which to 
 
 have it live with credyt and in a good name is 
 
 called the Fincents Laiv. 
 
 In this Law they which play booty are the 
 Banckers. 
 
 He that Betteth is the Gripe. 
 
 He that is cozened is the Vincent, 
 
 The Gaines gotten is called Termage. 
 
 The Bankers are commonly men apparelled 
 like honest and sub / stanciall Citizens, who 
 come into the Bowling Allies, for a rubbers or 
 so, as though it were rather for sport, then for 
 any gaines, protesting they care not whether they 
 win or loose : which carelessnes of theirs is but a 
 shadowe to their pretended knaverie : whilst they 
 are crymg Rub^ Rub, Rub, and a Great one. In 
 come the spectators dropping one by one, and 
 stand leaning over a Rayle to behold them ; of 
 which oftentimes some simple men that never 
 saw common Bowling Ally before may perhaps 
 be of the number, and is brought in of purpose 
 by one of their owne Brotherhood to be rid of 
 his money : if such a yong bird happen amongst 
 them, and doe once but chirp, thats to say either 
 take or offer any lav, they all harken to his note, 
 especially if he sing shrilly, thats to say be 
 deepe : if there be good store of Lookers on, 
 then are there certaine olde soakers, whose 
 office is to doe nothing but listen for bets, either 
 even or od, and these are called Gripes ; which 
 Gripes will refuse no Lay, if the ods may grow
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 127 
 
 to their advantage, for the Gripes & the Banckers How the 
 
 are sworne brothers to the Divell (their father swindle is 
 
 in law) and the bowles have such vertue in them effected 
 
 that their byasses will directly ron, as the Gripes 
 
 have placed their Bets. The Bankers (albeit 
 
 they so play as if they minded nothing but their 
 
 owne game) yet have still an eare how the layes 
 
 are made, and according to that levell doe they 
 
 throw their bowles, so that be sure the bowlers 
 
 play booty : for suppose 7 be up for the game, 
 
 and that the one side hath 3. the other none, 
 
 then the Vincent (who is the Novice that standeth 
 
 by, and is not acquainted with the tallents of 
 
 these Gripes^ nor feeles not when they draw 
 
 bloud of him, no nor doth not so much as carry 
 
 an evill thought of the bowlers that they should 
 
 play booty, looking so gravely and so like to 
 
 honest men,) hee poore colt, seeing three to 
 
 none, begins to grow lusty, and to offer oddes 
 
 on that side which is fairest for the game ; what 
 
 ods saies the Gripe ? 3 . to one cryes the Vincent : 
 
 no sayes the Gripe it is more, and with that the 
 
 Bankers are come to foure for none : then the 
 
 Vincent offers to lay foure to one ; I take six to 
 
 one saies the Gripe, I lay it cryes the Vincent, 
 
 and so they make a bet of six crownes, shillings, 
 
 or pence, as the Vincent is of ability to lay, and 
 
 thus will sondry take their oddes of him. On 
 
 then goe the Bankers with the game and win 
 
 another cast which is five for none ; at this / 
 
 fooles fortune of his, the Vincent grins for Joy, 
 
 scratches his elbow, and is so proud that no 
 
 ground about the Ally can hold him, thinking 
 
 verily both by the ods and goodnesse of the play,
 
 128 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 How it is impossible for his side to loose, and there- 
 skill is fore (beeing now foole-hardy) hee takes and 
 neutral- j^y^g ^g|.g freely : all eyes then greedely marking 
 the event of this storme ; At the length on a 
 suddaine, the Sun begins to shine on the other 
 side that were none, and they win perhaps so 
 long till they come to three for five, and still as 
 their luck alters, diversitie of bets are layd ; till 
 at last they are five for five : and then the Gripe 
 comes upon the Fincenty and offers him ods, 
 which if the Fincent fasten upon, he looseth all, 
 for uppon what side soever the Gripe layes, that 
 side ever wins, how great soever the oddes be at 
 first in the contrary part, so that the cozenage 
 growes in playing booty. This sowre banquet 
 to the Vincent is seasoned with sweete meates to 
 the Bankers and the Gripes ; who at night meete 
 in some Taverne, and share the money gotten 
 by this base meanes, which money they call 
 Termage, 
 
 Now to shadow the villany the more, the 
 Banker that wins and is aforehand with the 
 game, wil lay franckly that he shall wyn, and 
 will bet hard, and lay great odds : but with 
 whome ? either with them who play with him 
 that are as crafty knaves as himselfe, or else 
 with the Gripe, and this makes the Vincent to 
 stoope to the blowe the sooner. Besides if any 
 honest men that hold themselves skilfull in 
 bowling, offer to play any set-match against these 
 common bowlers, if these Bankers feare to have 
 the worst, and suspect the others play to bee 
 better than theires, then have they a trick (in 
 watring of the Alley) to give such a moisture to
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 129 
 
 the banck, that he who offers to Strike a bowle Honest 
 with a shore, shall never hit it whilst he lives sports 
 because the moysture of the banck hinders the ^"^^^** 
 proportion of his Ayming. Many other practises 
 there are in bowling tending to cozenage, but 
 ye greatest and grosest is Booty : in which ye 
 deceipt is so open and palpable, yt I have seene 
 men stone-blind offer to lay Betts franckly, 
 although they could see a bowle no more then a 
 post, onely by hearing who played, and how the 
 old Grypes had made their layes. 
 
 Thus sports that were invented for honest 
 recreation, are by the wicked abusing of them, 
 turned to mens confusion : And not / onely in 
 these games before rehearsed, but also in those 
 that are both more laudable, and more lawfull. 
 For in the Tennis-court, Cheating hath a hand ; 
 yea and in Shooting (which is the noblest exercise 
 of our English nation,) arrowes do now and 
 then fly with false feathers. Since then that all 
 kinds of gaming serves but as gulphs to devoure 
 the substances of men, and to swallow them up 
 in beggery, my councell is utterly eyther to 
 refraine such pastimes, or if men are of such 
 Spirits that they must needes venture their 
 money, then to bee very provident how they 
 play, and to be choise of their company. Now 
 let us turne over the volumes of other Laives, 
 enacted in the Parliament of these Divels. 
 
 The Blade Art. 
 
 Having waded thus farre in these puddles of 
 damn'd impiety, it shall not be amisse to go on, 
 
 1
 
 130 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 T^^ and search even to the bottome and farthest 
 "^^^?th^ shore of them : to effect which the sooner, we 
 black art ^^^^ ^^'^ deale in the Blade Art. It is not 
 that Blacke Art^ by which men conjure up 
 Spirits, and raise Divels in Circles, to tell where 
 money is hid, or whether goods that are stolen 
 are convaied ; But this Blacke Art^ is to fetch 
 away money where it lyes, and to raise up a 
 fiend in a rich Mercers or Gold-smiths shop at 
 midnight without the gibrish of a staring Con- 
 jurer. This Blacke Art workes in darknesse 
 as well as the other ; it deales with the Diveil 
 as the other doth, and is as unlawfuU as the 
 other is : if you will needs (in a word) know the 
 misticall meaning of This Blacke Art^ it is called 
 in English Picking of Lockes, And this Engine 
 of mischiefe turnes upon these 5. wheeles. 
 yiz. 
 
 The Picklocke is called a Charme. 
 
 He that watcheth if any body come, is the 
 Stand. 
 
 The tooles that doe the businesse are called 
 Wresters. 
 
 Picking of the locke is called Parsing, 
 
 The gaines gotten is Pelfrey, 
 
 Now albeit that two persons only are imployed 
 in this Undermining of a doore (viz. the Charme 
 and the Stand) yet ye burgulary is committed 
 by other hands, which are in a readinesse to 
 receive the goods (when the house is entred) 
 and to convey / them in parcels away. The 
 Charme, (who is ye master of this black Art,
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 131 
 
 goes like a conjurer, with a number of keyes and The skill 
 wrests like so many Pentacles) about him, which of the 
 he calles pick-locks, and for every sundry fashion Picklock 
 they have a sundry terme ; but being ignorant 
 of their wordes of Art, I omit them ; only 
 assuring you thus much, that the Charme hath 
 such cunning and such dexteritie in opening a 
 lock (and that without any great noise) that no 
 ward whatsoever (be it never so doubled) but 
 flies back at his Jugling with it. Some have 
 their instruments from Italy, made of Steele, 
 some are made here in England by Smithes that 
 are partners and partakers in their villanous 
 occupations. But howsoever, the Tirade of Lock- 
 picking may well be called the Black- Art, for 
 none study it, but those that for other mens 
 goods have sold their verie soules to the Divell. 
 
 The Courling Law, 
 
 The Black Art and the Courbing Law, are 
 grounded both upon the selfe same positions : 
 for the Black Art teaches how to breake open a 
 lock, the Courbing Law how to hooke goodes 
 out of a windowe ; they both are workers in 
 Iron, both are begotten in Idlenes, both live by 
 villanie, and both die with infamy. A smith is 
 the maker and setter up of these two trades, and 
 the hangman is the utter undoer of them. This 
 Courbing Law spreds it selfe into foure maine 
 branches : 
 
 He that hookes is called the Courber, 
 He that playes the spy is the IVarpe.
 
 132 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The time The Hooh is the Courh. 
 ^courier ^^^ goodes are called Snappwgs. 
 
 works '^^^ ^^" ^° °P^" ^^^ windowe is a Tricker. 
 
 The office of the Courber is for the most parte 
 betimes in the mornings (at the discharging of a 
 watch) to be up more earely than a noise of 
 shrugging fidiers ; and the husbandry which hee 
 followes, is in the day time to watch what shops 
 or windowes stand fittest for his trade, which if 
 he finde easily to bee opened, then the cony is 
 in the pursute without much feretting : But if 
 he must take paines for his living, out come his 
 Trkkers, and then (as if hee were a brother of 
 the Black Art) doth hee with those / Iron 
 engines, cut a barre of Iron in sunder, in such 
 sorte that scarce the standers by shall heare him. 
 The windowe being thus open, and that hee 
 hath good hope to meete with fatte Snappings 
 (or rich purchase) the Warp bustles to play his 
 part, and watches with cats-eies in the darke, 
 looking (like one a squint, or as if he stoode to 
 catch hares) two waies, one to spie who comes, 
 the other to note what comes out at the window : 
 to carry which away he is furnished with a long 
 cloake. But first must the Courber play his prize, 
 and that is with an Iron about nine foote in 
 length, at whose end (being crooked) are three 
 Tynes turned contrary, so that they catch every 
 way, if any snappings be within their reach. 
 This hook (or Courb) is made with joynts like 
 an Angling rod, and in the day time is conveyed 
 into the forme of a truncheon, and worne like a 
 walking staffe, till night, when it is put to doe
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 133 
 
 other service. Whatsoever the Courber with this The diver 
 angle fishes for and takes, the Warp beares it ^^^ the 
 away, and he delivers it either to a Broker or "SS^J" 
 some Bawd (for they all are of one feather,) of 
 which Receivers they have as present money for 
 it, as if they traded with Merchants. Then is 
 there (belonging to this faculty) a Diver, and 
 he is just in the nature of a Courber, for as the 
 one practises his villany with a hooke, so the 
 Diver workes his Jugling feates by ye help of a 
 boy, (called a Figger) whom hee thrusts in at a 
 casement, being so well studied that he hath the 
 principles of the Black- Art, and can pick a lock if 
 it be not too much crosse warded ; this Figger 
 delivers to the Diver what snappings he findes 
 in the shop or chamber. 
 
 The Prigging Law. 
 
 Being weary with going thus farre on foote, 
 let us now (sithence we have overtaken a horse- 
 man) get up and ride along with him. Yet now 
 I looke upon him well, it is more safety and 
 better policie to let him ride by himselfe, for he 
 rides circuite with the Divell, and Derick must 
 bee his host, and Tiburne the Inne at which he 
 will light. This ranck-rider is of the Family of 
 Knights-errant, or of those wandring Rogues that 
 march in the first files of my booke, his name is 
 a Prigger, deriving his title from his practize, 
 which is called the Prigg f ing Law, whose 
 grounds are the Cleanly and cunning steahig of 
 horses. 
 
 This Prigging Arte runnes into six rivers, all
 
 134 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Horse- of them falling into one streame, and all of them 
 stealing lowing from one head. 
 
 He that steales the horse is called the 
 Prigger, 
 
 The horse is called a Prancer. 
 
 The seller away of the stolne horse is a 
 Martar. 
 
 The Tolling- house is called Alhallowes. 
 
 The tiller is the Rifler. 
 
 The sureties at the toll-booke are called 
 Querries. 
 
 A Prigger on foote is called a Trayler. 
 
 The Prigger if hee bee a lance-man (that is to 
 say, one that is already horst) then rides he in 
 state, attended by followers, who are either like 
 his servants in liveries, or in the habite of Gentle- 
 men, or most commonly in the shapes of Drovers : 
 in this equipage doe they walke up and downe 
 medowes and pastures or other inclosed grounds, 
 as if their purpose were to buy cattell, whereas 
 their eyes are onely busied in noting horses, that 
 are worth the stealing, and whether their heeles 
 are fettred with horse locks or no. This first 
 cirkle being drawne in the day time, the next 
 night following, our Pr'iggers fall to conjuring, and 
 by the spelles of the Black Art, pick open the 
 Tramelles or locks, and then like Battes or Owles 
 away they fly over hedge and ditch out of those 
 quarters. The owners in the morning may smell 
 out their footesteps and see which way they are rid 
 post, but unlesse the Divell himselfe either went 
 with a candle and lanthorne before them, the 
 Pr'iggers would never be found, or else carried
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 135 
 
 them on his back, and bid them to hold fast by How they 
 his homes whilst he gallopped, it were not possible dispose of 
 to overtake them. For this policie they use, if stolen 
 the Prigger steale a horse in Torke-sfAre, he selles S^^*^^ 
 him in Surrey, Kent or Sussex ; and their 
 Martars (so called of hunting Marts or Fa'tres) 
 who receive them at the Priggers handes, chop 
 them away in some blinde faires or other after 
 they have kept them a moneth or two, till the 
 breath of the Hue and Cr'ie be blowne over. 
 
 If the horse be of any value, and much inquired 
 after, or cary such brands or eare-markes about 
 him, that they cannot put him off without danger, 
 then doe these Priggers brand him with a crosse-/ 
 brand on the former, or take away his eare- 
 marke, and so keepe him at hard meate till he be 
 perfectly recovered or else will they sell him in 
 Corneivall, or Wales if he be fetched out of 
 Cumberland, L'tncolne- shire, Norfolke or Suffolke. 
 But if the horse be onely coloured and without 
 Brandes, then have they shifts to spot them so 
 strangely, that a man shall hardly know his owne 
 horse if he meete him ; as to marke a black horse 
 with saddle-spots, or to star him in the forehead, 
 and change his taille : the secrets of which are not 
 fit in print to be discovered, lest laying open the 
 abuse, I should teach some how to practise it. 
 
 This is the life of the Prigger, who travailes 
 up and downe the whole kingdome upon his 
 geldings of 20 and 40 pound price, and is taken 
 for a man of good worth, by his outward shew, 
 being (amongst his owne fraternity of horse- 
 stealers) called a Prigging lance-man. But he 
 that borrowes a nag out of another mans pasture.
 
 136 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The and cares not so he may get money for him, how 
 trayler ]^q p^s him away, onely to supply his wants, is 
 called a Trayler ; these Traylers trot upon the 
 hoofe, and are footemen, meane in apparell, 
 though not meane in their theeving trade : you 
 shall have them attired like plaine country grans, 
 walking (like our thredbare gallants in Poules) 
 in bootes without spurres, and sometimes without 
 bootes, long staves on their neckes, and black 
 buckram bags at their backs, as if they were 
 Lawyers clients and carried letters up and 
 dovvne : But those buckram bags are the horses 
 wardrobe. In those bags doe these sneaking 
 Traylers put saddle, bridle, spurres, stirrops, and 
 stirrop leathers ; all this hackney houshold stuffe 
 beeing made so quaintly, that the deepe slop of a 
 hose is able to hide it : for the saddle is fashioned 
 without any tree, (yet hath it cantle and bolsters) 
 but artificially quilted together with cloth and 
 bumbast, and with such foldes that it may easily 
 be wrapt up in a little roome : the stirrops goe 
 with vices and ginnes, that one may put them 
 into a paire of gloves, so likewise doe the spurres, 
 and then a little white leather head stall and 
 reynes, with a small Scottish brake or snaffle, all 
 of them so neatly framed, that a small bag will 
 containe them. And looke how the Lance-man 
 rides post when he sits upon his prey, so when the 
 Trayler is in the saddle, away hee gallops as if 
 everie Jade of seven / nobles price were a winged 
 Pegasus^ selling him as farre off from the place 
 where hee stole him, as possibly hee can. 
 
 Now because these Prl^gers though they 
 breake the Lawe in one point, yet they make it
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 137 
 
 whole in another ; and very orderly come to the The 
 Toll booke, bringing 2 (of their owne religion) querries 
 civilly attired (fitting the place) who not only 
 affirm but offer to depose that they know the 
 horse to be his owne that sels it ; yet are these 
 caitifs no better then olde knights of the post, 
 that will perjure themselves for pots of Ale, and 
 never saw perhaps either the Prigger or the 
 Prancer before these wicked Elders, having for 
 villanies beene banished out of Westminster Hall, 
 or for their perjuries stood and lost their eares 
 on the pillorie, retire themselves into the 
 Countrie, and professe this kind of life, being by 
 the horse-stealers called (though they are farre 
 unworthy of so good a name) Querries : leaving 
 whom (with the horsemen their good Lords 
 and masters) either to an amendment of manners, 
 or to the mercy of the Hangman, who must teach 
 them to ride this wodden curtail ; let us, because 
 wee are now lifting them out of the saddle, turne 
 over a new leafe, and read a lecture in the Lift' 
 ing Law. 
 
 The Lifting Latu, 
 
 The Lifting Law is not the Law of Porters, 
 who live by Lifting, and cry to one another, 
 lend mee your hand when honestly they are to 
 carry a burthen for a penny, and safely to 
 deliver it to the owner backe againe : but this 
 law teacheth a kind of lifting of goods cleane 
 away. In such Liftings are three sorts of 
 Lea^vers used to get up the baggage, ^/z. 
 
 He that first stealeth the par cell is called The Lift.
 
 138 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Various He that receives it is the Marker. 
 
 *^Tiff ^^ ^^^^ stands without and carries it away, is 
 
 the Sen tar. 
 
 The goods thus purchased, is called Garbage : 
 which Garbage is sometime plate, or Jewels, 
 sometimes pieces of velvet, sometimes cloakes 
 or lawyers gownes, sometimes one thing, some- 
 times another. 
 
 The Practitioners of this Lifting Law, take 
 severall degrees, for some of them (and they are 
 the Punies) are but Base Rogues^ that / live by 
 Lifting quart pots, platters, and such trash out of 
 tipling houses, under colour of spending two or 
 three pottes of Ale. These are the Rascallitie 
 of this Heard. But the Gentleman Lifter 
 walkes with his Marker at his heeles, as if he 
 were a Country Gentleman of 500. a yeare, & 
 comming into a Mercers or Gold-smiths shop, 
 presently casts by his cloake, (to colour his 
 intents) the Marker standing bare-headed not 
 farre from him, his worship then cals for a bolt 
 of Satten, Velvet, cloth of gold, or silver, or any 
 other of the richest commodities, and not liking 
 the pile, colour, or bracke, his eye must 
 have the choice of more ; the Marker in the 
 meane time whilest the Mercer is busie and 
 turnes his backe, hath the Garbage thrust 
 towardes him by the Lifter, and conveies it 
 under his cloake : the Sentar who walkes in the 
 streete, passing then in great haste by the doore, 
 is called backe by the Marker, as if he were 
 such a Gentlemans, Knights, or Noble-mans 
 servant : but the Sentar sweares he cannot stay, 
 the Marker tels him hee must needes have one
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 139 
 
 word with him, and so stepping along with him A bat- 
 some part of the way, secretly conveies the fowler 
 Garbage to the Sentar. 
 
 Other Lifts there are, that haunt Nobk-mens 
 houses, at Marriages, or solemne Revelings, in 
 Christmas, and the Hals of companies when 
 they make feasts, at which times they lift away 
 goblets, or other pieces of plate, Napery, or any 
 thing worth the ventring for. 
 
 Others ply Counsellours chambers, that are 
 well cliented, and sit downe in the outer roomes 
 like Country men, having blacke boxes by their 
 sides, and papers in their handes : but their 
 attendance is not for counsell, nor to pay any 
 fees, but to Lift away gownes, or cloakes, by 
 the Rules of their owne Latu. The Hke pair 
 of Indentures doe they draw in shops, betweene 
 Scriveners and themselves. 
 
 Another more cunning then all these Liftings^ 
 is when in an evening, a Batfoiuler walkes up 
 and downe the streetes, and counterfets that hee 
 hath let fall a ring, a Jewell, or a peece of gold, 
 requesting some Prentice, (when there is but one 
 in the shop) to lend him his candle a while to 
 find his losses, who simply doth so, but the 
 Lifter poring a good while and not meeting with 
 his ring, lets the candle in the end slip out of 
 his fingers, and whilest the prentice steps in to 
 light it againe, the Sentar or he / himselfe steales 
 what garbage they can finger, and are gone in 
 the meane time. 
 
 You have another kind of Lifter, or more 
 properly a cunning night shifter, and it is thus : 
 You shall have a fftUow, that in an evening or
 
 140 THE BEL MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The night time, or some time at noone dayes, as hee 
 Ufter who likes the company, and sorts his opportunity, 
 ^^'^'^^ that will wilfully drop sometime a spoone, other 
 while a ring, or else some peece of coyned 
 money, as the likenes of gold, and silver, and 
 so spurning it afore them in the view of others, 
 to the end they should cry halfe part ; which he 
 taking hold of, sayth, nay by my troth, 
 what will you give me and take it all ? and so 
 some greedy fooles offer thus much, thinking it 
 gold, which the Lifter takes, as knowing it 
 counterfeit, and so are they cunny-caught. 
 
 Then is there a kind of Lift^ who like a 
 Jugler doth all his feates of himselfe, not caring 
 for the helpe of others ; he goes attired like a 
 Servingman, booted and spurd and dirtie as if 
 hee had new ridden ; his haunts are the best 
 townes in the countrie upon market dayes, but 
 most commonly Faires : the birdes he watches 
 for are Knights, Esquires, or Gentlemen, that 
 light at the greatest Innes, whither most resort 
 is ; who shall no sooner come from horse, but 
 this Lifter is readie to hold his stirrop, or to 
 walke his horse, as officiously as if he wore his 
 cloth : So that to the Guest he seemes to be one 
 belonging to the house, and to the servants or 
 the house hee appeares to bee a follower of the 
 Gentleman newly alighted. But the Guest 
 being departed from his Inne, to the towne or 
 into the faire, backe comes this counterfeit 
 Bleivcoat, running in all haste for his masters 
 cloake-bag or portmantua, and cals to the ostler or 
 chamberlaine by his name to deliver it, because 
 some things must bee taken out for his Knight,
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 141 
 
 or the Gentleman his maister, that are in it. The 
 The prey is put (hereupon) into the Vultures nests for 
 tallants, and away flies he presently to his nest, ® 
 to feede and fat his ravenous gorge with the 
 garbage which he hath gotten. 
 
 But what Nests thinke you they flie to ? 
 Marry to the house either of some notorious 
 treble-chinned baude (in whose beddes commonly 
 these Serpentes lie lurking) who keepes a 
 tipling house, and brings up yong Trugs 
 (under the colour of filling Kannes) that are 
 harlots to the Lifts ; or else to the shops of 
 certaine Brokers, who traffick onely in this kind 
 of Merchandize, and / by bils of sale, (made in 
 the name of Robin- Goodfelloiv and his crue,) 
 get the goods of honest Citizens into their 
 hands, either detaining them so long in their 
 chests till they be no more sought after, or else 
 so altering them that ye Owners shall hardly 
 know them. Thus the Lift and his mates 
 prepare the lime-twigs and catch the bird, but 
 the Bazvde and Broker, eate the fleshe and give 
 the other onely the feathers. 
 
 The High Latu. 
 
 All this while have I read unto you the 
 beggarly law, and base common Lawes of Villany, 
 by which the Out-Laives of a kingdome, and 
 Out-casts of a well-governed Common-tuealth, 
 maintaine their damnable courses. Now muct 
 you cast up your eyes and looke aloft, if you 
 have a desire to behold the picture of The 
 High Laiv : which taketh that name from the
 
 142 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 mg^- high exploits that are acted by it : The 
 waymen Schollers that learne it are called Higb Lawyers ; 
 yet they never walke to Westminster to pleade, 
 though oftentimes they are called to the Barre^ 
 but then it is to have them Hold up their hands, that 
 the Hangman may tell them their fortune. All 
 the former Lawes are attained by wit, but the High 
 Law stands both upon Wit and Manhood. 
 For the High Laiv is nothing else but taking a 
 purse by the High- way side, so that to bee a 
 good practitioner in this Lazv, a man needs no 
 more but a bold sterne looke, a good heart and a 
 good sword ; the cases that he is to plead upon, 
 is onely Stand and De/iver. All travellers are so 
 beaten to the trials of this Latu, that if they 
 have but rode over Shooters Hi//, or Salishury 
 F/aine, they are as perfect in the principles of it, 
 as if they had beene 7. years in the company of 
 High Lawyers. The Counsel/ a High Lawyer 
 gives, is common, but his fees are unreasonable, 
 for he strips his Clients of all. The motions 
 which hee makes are both in Terme and out of 
 Tcrme ; I shall not need therefore to open any 
 of his Cases. But onely will tell you thus 
 much, that this high-law is comprehended in 
 five Fc/umes, viz. 
 
 The theefe that commits the Robbery, and is 
 cheife clerke to Saint Nicho/as, is called the 
 High Lawyer. 
 
 He that setteth the watch is a Scripper. 
 
 He that standes Centinel/ and does watch, is 
 an 0/ie, 
 
 Hee that io robbed, is the Martin. 
 
 When he yieldeth, it is called Stooping,
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 143 
 
 All the shires in England have scene these Places 
 H'lgh-laive matters tryed, and therefore if any where 
 would know them or the professors of them to ^^C'^.^^S" 
 a haire, let him but step into the Old Baily at practised 
 any Sessions, and he shall heare more. 
 
 Th sacking Lanv. 
 
 The companion of a theefe is commonly a 
 Whore ; it is not amisse therefore, to pinion 
 them together ; for what the theefe gets the 
 strumpet spends. The trade of these Tale- 
 hearers goes under the name of the Backing- 
 law ; and rightly may it be called sacking, for 
 as in the sacking of a City, all the villanies m 
 the world are set abroach, so when a Harlot 
 comes to the sacking of a mans wealth and re- 
 putation (for she besiegeth both together) she 
 leaves no stratagem unpractised to bring him to 
 confusion. Westminster and Holhorn have 
 chambers full of these students of the Sacking- 
 law. In Clerkenwell, they had wont and are 
 still well cliented ; White Friers is famous for 
 their meeting : The Spittle flourishes with 
 the yong fry, that are put to it to learne it. 
 Sacks come to these milles every houre, but 
 the Sacking-lanve empties them faster then a 
 Miller grindes his bushels of corne. He that 
 hath a lust to practise this law, must bee 
 furnished with these five bookes, 'viz. 
 
 The Baud, who if she be a woman is called 
 a Pandaresse, 
 
 The Apple-squire^ who is to fetch in wine. 
 
 The Whorey who is called the Commodity.
 
 144 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 An old The Whore-house, which is called a Tru^g-inz- 
 trick.;,, ''^ ^ 
 
 place. 
 
 These five Authors are so well knowne, and 
 
 have bin so turned over leafe by leafe, that 
 
 every man (almost) that lives in sight of the 
 
 smoake of the Citie, hath them at his fingers 
 
 ends ; or if he cannot, it is an easie matter to 
 
 finde them by a Table. I will onely refer you 
 
 to the suburbs. But there is a second part of 
 
 this Sac king-law., and that instructs Punches to 
 
 attire themselves neatly in summer evenings, 
 
 and about ten or eleven of the clock at nighr to 
 
 walke up and downe the most peopled streetes 
 
 of the citie, very soberly and gingerly, til the 
 
 wine (by / one Gull or other) be offered, which 
 
 with a little intreaty she takes ; but being in the 
 
 midst of their bowles, or perhaps the silly cony 
 
 being trayned home to a lodging, where he falles 
 
 to Nxbling ; in comes a Ruffian with a drawne 
 
 rapier, calles the Punch (as she is) damned 
 
 whore, askes what Rogue that is. and what he 
 
 does with his wife. The conclusion of all this 
 
 counterfeit swaggering being a plot betwixt this 
 
 panderly ruffian and the whore to geld the sillv 
 
 foole of all the money hee hath in his purse, and 
 
 sometimes to make him (rather than his credit 
 
 should be called into question) to seale a bill or 
 
 bond for other sums of money at such and such 
 
 daies, and so send him packing, when he hath 
 
 paide too deare for a bad dish of meate which 
 
 he never tasted : the base Applesquire and his 
 
 yong mistresse, laughing to see what a wood- 
 
 cocke they puld, and sharing the feathers be- 
 
 tweene them. But when such comedies (of the
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 145 
 
 Sacking-Laiv) as these, are playd, then the The cut- 
 Actors have other names than are set downe purse 
 before, and these they be : 
 
 The whore is then called the Trafick, 
 The man that is brought in, is the Simpler. 
 The Ruffian that takes him napping, is the 
 Crosbiter. 
 
 The Figging Law. 
 
 The Parliament of these hell-hounds, it 
 seemes wil soone breake up, for they stand now 
 onely upon the last lawe ; which they call 
 Figging- Latve : in making of which law, two 
 persons have the chiefe voices, that is to say, 
 the Cut-purse and the Pick-pockety and all the 
 branches of this law reach to none but them and 
 such as are made free denizens of their incor- 
 poration. This Figging Lawe (like the body 
 of some monstrous and terrible beast) stands 
 upon ten feete, or rather lifts up proudly ten 
 Dragon-like heads, the names of which heads 
 are these, viz. 
 
 He that cuts the purse is called the Nip. 
 
 He that is halfe with him is the Snap or the 
 Cloyer. 
 
 The knife is called a Cuttle-bung. 
 
 He that picks the pocket is called a Foist. 
 
 He that faceth the man, is the Stale. 
 
 The taking of the purse is called Drawing. 
 
 The spying of this villanie is called Smoaking 
 or Boiling. 
 
 The purse is the Bung, 
 
 The money the Shelles. 
 
 K
 
 146 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 The The act doing, is called striking, 
 quirks of This Figging Lazue hath more quirkes and 
 ^^a^w q^i'i^ii'^i^s in it than any of the former ; it is as 
 dangerous to meddle with as the High-Iaiv, in 
 pleading of whose cases men are at Daggers 
 drawing : the schoUers of this Art are cunning 
 Sophisters, and had neede to have more eies 
 then two in one head, because the Arguments 
 they hold, and their bold villanies which they 
 practise are argued upon and justified to his teeth 
 with whom they contend. The Foist and the 
 Nip, (that is to say, the Pocket diver and the 
 cut purse) are pewfellowes together and of one 
 religion, but differ in some points. A purse 
 well lined is the wet Eele they both bob for, 
 but they strive to catch it by the taile after 
 several! fashions. For the Nip workes with his 
 knife, the Foist with his hand : the Nip cuts 
 the purse, the Foist drawes the pocket : both 
 their occupations are taught them by the Divell, 
 yet they both brag of the excellencie of them, 
 and are ready sometimes to stab one another, 
 about defending which is best, for the Foist 
 counts himselfe the better man, and therefore is 
 called (by the livery of his company) a gentle- 
 man Foist^ and so much scornes the title of 
 a cut purse, that he weares not a knife about 
 him to cut his owne meate, lest hee be held 
 in suspition to be a Nip, which he esteemes 
 the basest office in the whole Army of 
 Cheaters. 
 
 These schollers of the Figging laive, are 
 infinite in number, their Colledge is great, their 
 orders many, and their degrees (which are
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 147 
 
 given to them by the Seniors of the house) very The 
 ancient, but very abominable. slang of 
 
 The language which they speak is none of ^^® ^^^' 
 those which came in at the confusion of Jongues, P"^^^^ 
 for neither infidell nor Christian (that is honest) 
 under standes it, but the Dialect is such and so 
 crabbed, that seven yeeres study is little enough 
 to reach to the bottome of it, and to make it run 
 off glib from the tongue : by meanes of this 
 Gibrish, they know their owne nation when 
 they meete, albeit they never sawe one another 
 before ; and so conformeable are they to the 
 ordinances of the Brotherhoode, that whatsoever 
 ye ivicked Elders amongst them shall prescribe, 
 Actum I est^ tis a lawe, and they will not breake 
 it : yea not the proudest of them dare be so 
 bold as to exercise his Art in any other place 
 but in those that are appointed to him, nor once 
 presume to set his foote into anothers walke, 
 but by licence of the signiory. 
 
 For that purpose therefore, (as if a whole 
 kingdome were theirs) they allot such countries 
 to this Band of Foists, such townes to those, and 
 such a City to so many Nips : whereupon some 
 of these Boote-halers are called Termers^ and 
 they ply Westminster Hall. Michaelmas terme 
 is their harvest and they sweat in it harder then 
 reapers or hay-makers doe at their workes in 
 the heate of sommer : no Counsellor, Attorney, 
 Petifogger nor Sollicitor is up earelier then 
 they : nor at the hall sooner than they : when 
 clients begin to come crowding in. Watermen 
 ply not their fares more nimbly then the Nips 
 and Foists bestir themselves to pick up their
 
 148 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Ubiquity shelles : the hall and ye old palace are their 
 ofthe j/i^gj^ 2Lnd they worke in them like bees: ye 
 
 cut-purse ^^cfjgq^gf chamber, Star-chamber, Kings-bench 
 and Common pleas, and Chancery are ye beds of 
 flowers, to which they fly humming to and fro 
 continually to suck the honey of gold and silver. 
 If a poore client doe but stand by his Lawyer, 
 whilst he is pleading, and drawes out his purse 
 to pay fees for counsell, or to the Court for 
 dispatch of his businesse, these Furies are sure 
 to bee at his elbowe watching (with hawkes 
 eyes,) on which side he puts up his purse ; to 
 that side they fly, and if their tallents can but 
 touch it, it is their owne. Others of them have 
 all the flesh and fish markets allowed them for 
 their walkes, as Cheapside, East-cheape, the 
 Shambles, both Fishstreetes, the Stockes, and ye 
 Borough in Southwarke ; in which places 
 these faithfull Stewards of Lucifers houshold, 
 cheapen all commodities, only to note, what 
 money, wives or servants that come to buy, have 
 in their purses, and where they put it up, which 
 beeing well observed, the Stall plies his market, 
 and followes him or her (whose silver is con- 
 demned) till they come to a presse of people, 
 then does the Stall keepe a thrusting and a 
 justiing, whilst in the meane time the Foist is 
 either in their pocket or the Nip hath the 
 purse fast by the strings. 
 
 Others haunt Playhouses only and the Beare- 
 garden : some have their precinct lying in the 
 walkes of Poules, their houres of / meeting 
 there being between lo and ii, ye strokes they 
 strike being sometimes in the middle I/e if it be
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 149 
 
 in Terme time, when ye walk.es are full, but They 
 most commonly, at the doores of the Church, ^^^^ 
 which they will choake, and strive for passage, ^ifurche': 
 whilst another does the feate. A running at 
 Tilt ; the Lord Maiors day, any great shooting, 
 any fray, any solemne arraignement, or execu- 
 tion, is better to these Hell hounds than a 
 quarter day is to a Landlord or than 5 sessions 
 are to the hangman. Yea so fearless are these 
 Divells to be throwne headlong, and quick into 
 the pit of damnation, that even in Gods owne 
 house and the sacred Temple^ doe they desperately 
 commit their villanies, standing most devoutly 
 with eies elevated up to heaven, before the 
 preacher, where the presse of people is thickest, 
 whilst their hands are nibling in honest mens 
 pockets for their purses, who are careles of 
 such worldly matters there, as not mistrusting 
 that any so bad-minded dare enter into so holy 
 a place. These Nips and Foists goe oftentimes 
 cleanly away with the shelles which they get, 
 but oftentimes are they dogged by certaine fol- 
 lowers (called Cloyers) who hang uppon them like 
 Burres, and are more troublesome than waspes: 
 for no sooner is a Bung drawne, but the Cloyer 
 steps in for his Tenths which hee calles 
 Bnappage ; if the Nip denie Snappage the 
 Cloyer forthwith Boyles him, that is, bewraies 
 him or seaseth on his cloake. 
 
 You must understand likewise, that both of 
 N'tps and Foists there are two sortes, for there 
 be City Nips and country Nips, whose office 
 is to haunt nothing but Faires : these country 
 Nips never come into London to doe any peece
 
 150 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Town of service, but at Barthohnenvtide onely. 
 
 a^d Betweene these two sects, is mortall enmity ; 
 
 country i^^^ •£ ^.^^ (j-^.^ ^^^-^^ ^p^ ^^^ ^^ ^^ country 
 
 ^gj. i^o/i/j- in London he forthwith labours and laves 
 waite to smoake or Boyle him, the like does 
 the country "Nip or Foist by him of the City. 
 There are also women Foists and Nips as well 
 as men, but farre more dangerous then the men : 
 All the troopes of both sexes beeing subject to 
 the discipline of the Grand Nips and Foists^ and 
 from whom, the better to receive directions 
 both what to doe, and what quarters to keepe 
 (for they shift their walkes according to the 
 pleasure of the cheefe Rangers) they have a 
 certaine house, sometimes at one end of the towne 
 sometimes at another, which is their hall ; at 
 this Hall the whole company do meete / very 
 orderly, by which meanes whensoever any 
 notable or workmanlike Stroke is stricken, 
 though it were as farre as the North-borders, 
 yet can the rest of the Fig-boles here resident in 
 London, tell by whom this worthy Act was 
 plaid. 
 
 At this solemne meeting in their Hall, they 
 choose Wardens and a Steward : the Wardens 
 office is to establish wh ilesom lawes to keepe 
 life in their rotten common wealth, and to 
 assigne out to every man his Stations. The 
 Treasurers office is very truly (though he be an 
 arrant theefe) to render an account of such 
 moneies as are put into his hands uppon trust : 
 for of every purse (that is cleanly conveied and 
 hath good store of Shelles in it) a ratable pro- 
 portion is deliverd (in Banck as it were) to the
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 151 
 
 Treasurer, to the intent that when any of them Whit- 
 is taken and cast into prison, a Flag of truce tington 
 may presently be hung out, and composition College 
 offered to the wronged party, thereby to save a 
 brother of the society irom riding Westward. 
 This had wont to be an order amongst them : 
 But now the Under keepers of Newgate^ (if 
 complaint bee made to them for the losse of any 
 purse) have a trick to get a warrant, into which 
 warrant they put the names of 9 or ten of the 
 most notorious Foists and Nips that are free of 
 their Gaole (which they call Whittington 
 Coliedge,) and those Nips or Foists doe the 
 Jaylors nip, till the money (perhaps double) be 
 restored, albeit not one of them yt are specified 
 in the warrant were guilty of the fact : This 
 trick doth greatly impoverish the tradesmen of 
 this mystery, and may in time utterly overthrow 
 the students of the Figging Law. 
 
 The Five Jumps at Leapfrog, 
 
 The whole volume of these detestable Laives 
 is now read over ; to catch a heate therefore 
 after so long sitting, let us exercise our selves a 
 while at a new play, called The Jive Jumps at 
 Leapfrog. The property of the game at Leap- 
 frog, is (as every prentice and Carter knowes) 
 for one man to stoope, and to let another man 
 come over him ; so in these Jumpes the running 
 cheaters sweate only to make a man stoope so 
 lowe, that they may breake his backe, and then 
 they ride over his miserie with laughter. 
 
 The first Jump is called Horse-coursing, and
 
 152 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Horse- that is done thus : A fellow in good clothes and 
 coursing y^/'nh^ an honest face to the eie, hires of a carier 
 ^"^ a Nag to ride along with him to Cambridge, 
 stones Oxfordf Norivich, or any great towne of trade : 
 but let the journey be never so long, this Rtder 
 will end it in a fornoone at most ; for whilst 
 the Carier is busie about his teeme on the way 
 and looking to his charge, my horsecourser steps 
 aside into some by-lane, and lights at some 
 paltry towne neere the citty where he will lie, 
 till he have in capons and wine eaten up the 
 Carriers beast alive ; and then departs on foote, 
 sending the poore man word where his prancer 
 stands at rack, and Manger, who if he will have 
 him must disburse forty shillings or three pound 
 for his Jades diet. The Hackney-men of 
 Rochester have been oftentimes come over with 
 this Jump at Leap-frog^ and know the game well, 
 for a man cannot name it but they are ready to 
 give it a curse. 
 
 The second Jump is called car-^ing stones, 
 and that is performed in this maner : A crue 
 of Sharking companions (of which there be 
 sundry consorts lurking about the suburbs of 
 this City) being driven out of meanes, by leading 
 base and idle lives, or else by their riotous 
 expences amongst whores, practise to live upon 
 the fee simple of their wits ; and having amongst 
 them all some little money left (which they call 
 their Shooing-horne) they seeke out some blind 
 victualling house, or Cookes house, without the 
 barres, whose Host (if it be possible) is either 
 an asse easie to be ridden, or else a common 
 drunkard. In this Colts house will they sit
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 153 
 
 carowsing halfe-cannes day and night, and pay Soakers 
 
 royally at first for what they call, that shooing- who 
 
 home of theirs drawing the Host and Hostesse "^^^er pay 
 
 on to beleeve they shall be made for ever by 
 
 these guests ; who to gull the poore Goose-cap 
 
 the better, draw all their acquaintance they can 
 
 to ye house, never either drinking or feeding, 
 
 but mine Host must sit at the bords end like a 
 
 Magnifico in pomp, with his ale-dropt greasie 
 
 doublet shining by candle light, as if it were an 
 
 old rusty Armor scurvily scowred. But when 
 
 these Horse-leeches have suckt their guts full, or 
 
 rather the pitifully-complaining Hosts guts 
 
 empty, that he findes by his scores he can trust 
 
 no more : then do they at one time or other 
 
 talke of state matters, or of Religion, when the 
 
 Goodman of the house can scarce stand on his 
 
 legs under / his owne roofe, and trip him in 
 
 some words ; which the next day (beeing told 
 
 of it, and the words justified to his face) he 
 
 knowes he dares not answere ; with which hooke 
 
 holding his nose to the grindstone, they write 
 
 their mind in great round Oes of chalke, behinde 
 
 a doore, which Oes they call stones : the waight 
 
 of them beeing such that looke how many 
 
 shillings they make, so many times the wretched 
 
 Hostesse cries 0, as groning under the burden. 
 
 Now Sir of these Oes^ twenty shillings make a 
 
 loade, and ten pound make a Barge full ; which 
 
 when they have well freighted, these Dunklrkes 
 
 hoyst Saile and to Sea againe they goe in 
 
 another vessell ; to finde another Braseman, that 
 
 is to say, into another tipling house to finde 
 
 another Jade whom they may all saddle and
 
 154 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Fawning get up upon : if their last Host follow them 
 with a Bailif or a Sergeant, they only hold up 
 a finger, naming a Pursevant and cry Mum, no 
 more mine Host, you wot what : which wordes 
 are of more power to blow him away, then if 
 they firde him thence with traines of gunpowder. 
 By meanes of this Jump, some Victuallers have 
 leaped cleane out of doores and with the fall 
 have beene ready to lie in the streetes. 
 
 The third Jump is called Fawning : those 
 that leape at it are Fawneguests ; and that is 
 done in the edge of an evening, when a Cheater 
 meeting a stranger in the darke and taking him 
 for another, gets the stranger by some slight to 
 a Taverne, where calling for two pintes of 
 sundry wines, the drawer setting the wines 
 downe with two cups, as the custome is, 
 the Jumper tastes of one pinte (no matter which) 
 and findes fault with the wine, saying tis 
 too hard, but rose-water and sugar would 
 send it downe merrily ; and for that pur- 
 pose takes up one of the cuppes, telling the 
 stranger he is well acquainted with the Boy at 
 the barre, and can have two peny worth of rose- 
 water for a peny of him, and so steps from his 
 seate ; the stranger suspecting no harme because 
 the Fawne-guest leaves his cloake at the end of 
 the table behinde him. But this Jump comming 
 to be measured, it is found that he that went to 
 take his rising at the barre, hath stolne ground 
 and out-leaped the other more feete than he can 
 recover in haste, for the cup is leaped away with 
 him, for which the woodcock that is taken in 
 the springe, must pay fifty shillings or three
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 155 
 
 pound, and hath nothing but an / old thredbare Fool- 
 cloake not worth ic groates to make amends for taking 
 his losses. ^ 
 
 The fourth Jump is called Fooletaking ; and meat 
 that is done severall waies, sometimes by setting 
 a couple of suttle rogues to sing ballads on a 
 stall, till a number of people presse about them to 
 buy their trash, and then their purses being dis- 
 covered, are quickly in the Nips fingers. Others 
 are Fooletaken by letting chambers to fellowes 
 like serving-men, in the name of such an 
 Esquire, or such a Knight, or such a Captaine 
 new come from the low countries, bringing in a 
 trunck exceeding heavy, and crambd full of 
 brick-bats, which is left in the hired chamber, and 
 five times the value of it lifted away in stead of 
 it. With this Jump many maidservants, and 
 their wealthy Maisters have beene over-reached 
 by counterfeit kinsemen that have brought a 
 cheese or a gammon of Bacon to the poore 
 wench, claiming kinred of her whether she will 
 or no, and afterwards beeing (for his cheese and 
 bacon) invited to the Citizens table, have in the 
 night time taken away plate, or other commodi- 
 ties in exchange of his white-meates. 
 
 The fift Jump, is called Spoon e-meate, and 
 that is a messe of knaverie served in about 
 Supper time in the edge of an evening likewise : 
 It is done thus : A silly fellow in shew, attired 
 like a clowne, spurnes (being nere some candle 
 that stands on a stall) a paper before him, in 
 which is wrapt up a spoone : taking up which 
 and looking on it by the light, and making it 
 knowne (by his loud talking and wondring what
 
 156 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Spoon- he hath found) that he tooke it up by chance, 
 "^^^ people flock about him, and imagine it is a silver 
 and guilt spoone, for it lookes very faire, but he 
 seeming to be an innocent coxcomb, knowes not, 
 hee sales what hee should doe with such a gew- 
 gawe ; whereupon every one is catching at it, 
 and offers him money for it : he wishes he had 
 rather found money than such a bable, for he 
 eates not his pottage in plate ; in the end some 
 Fox amongst all the Cubbes that stand about 
 him, whispers in his eare, to have it from all the 
 rest and thrusts a crowne privily into his hand. 
 The Jumper takes it, and sneakes away, the 
 other gets home as fast as he can, longing till he 
 call his wife, all his houshold and neighbors 
 about him, to shewe what a penyworth / hee 
 met with ; but the gilt spoone comming to be 
 tried of what mettall hee is made, the poore 
 mans money prooves copper, and hee hmiselfe is 
 laughed at for a Coxcomb. 
 
 How long shall 1 saile upon these godlesse 
 waters ? Is it not time to get to shore ? Is it 
 not fit that I should now found a retreate and 
 not weary my pen in the execution of such base 
 and barbarous minded Caitifs ? What a 
 battaile have I undertaken : and with what an 
 ignoble enemie ? to contend with whom is an act 
 inglorious, and to conquer whom, (but that they 
 are open and professed foes to the Republicky to 
 honesty, to civility, and to all humanity) were 
 asmuch dishonour, as by them to be overcome? 
 Who would imagine that in a Kingdom so 
 fertile in all sorts of wholesome discipline, there 
 should grow up such ranck and such pestilent
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 157 
 
 beds of hemlock : that in the very hart of a The 
 state so rarely governed and dieted by good lawes, terrible 
 there should breede such loathsome and such ^^tent of 
 ulcerous impostumes ? that in a City so politick, 
 so civill, and so severe, such ugly, base, and bold 
 impieties dare shew their faces ? What an 
 Army of insuiferable Abuses, detestable Fices, 
 most damnable Fil/anies, abominable Pollutions, 
 inexplicable M'tschiefes, sordid Inquinations, 
 horrible and Hel-hound-like-perpetrated flagitious 
 enormities have beene here ministred together ? 
 under what divellish commanders are they con- 
 ducted ? what colors of damnation doe they fight 
 under ? what dismal Ensignes doe they spred ? 
 what forces doe they bring into the field ? 
 how full of courage they are ? how full 
 of cunning ? how politick are the Ringleaders 
 of these Faries ? how resolute are all ye 
 troopes ? what strange Armor have they (of 
 subtiltie, & desperate boldnes) to encounter and 
 set upon their opposites ? what Artillery have 
 they to batter downe Order, Law, custome, 
 plaine dealing, and all the goode guards and 
 defences of Governement ? What remaineth 
 therefore, (in an assault so dangerous to a 
 Common wealth, and so hotly and daily prose- 
 cuted), but that Justice her selfe must come into 
 the field, leading with her all her forces ? That 
 the Triple Body of the state may knit all their 
 Nerves together and sit in Counsell, setting 
 downe stratagems and lawes how to race for 
 ever (out of so noble a Kingdome) such / rebels 
 to the peace and honour of it : That the 
 Reverend Judges may (out of a detestation of
 
 158 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 Justice the lives of these monsters) lock up their eies 
 
 ^^' and eares from pitty, when any of these Savages 
 
 ^^^ ^ are caught and brought before them : That all 
 
 inferior ministers of Justice, may be vigilant, 
 
 faithfull and severe in hunting them into Gaoles 
 
 that are the fittest toyles for them to fall into, 
 
 and that the hangman may not lie lazing and 
 
 complaine for want of worke, so many infected 
 
 bodies being to bee found in every corner of the 
 
 Land, whom no medicine can cure, but the 
 
 physick which hee bestowes upon him at the 
 
 Galloives ? Where I leave them, as to the 
 
 haven in which they must all cast anchor, 
 
 if D eric L Cables doe but hold (and un- 
 
 lesse they amend.) Give thankes 
 
 to Z'/fiT Bel-miin of London^ if 
 
 either profit or pleasure 
 
 bee gained by the 
 
 Discoverie. 
 
 FiNIf. /
 
 LANTHORNE 
 AND CANDLE-LIGHT
 
 A 2 able of all the Matters^ that are contained in 
 this Booke. 
 
 Chap. I. Of Canting. 
 
 What matters were tryed at a 
 
 Tearme that was in Hell. 
 The proceedings of that court. 
 Chap. II. -(3 A counsell held in Hell about 
 the Bellman, 
 I 4 A messenger sent from thence, 
 
 with instructions. 
 /-How Gentlemen are cheated at 
 Ordinaries. 
 
 The Leaders. 
 The Forlorn Hope 
 The Eagle 
 The Wood-pecker 
 The Gull 
 _^ The Gull-groper. 
 How Gentlemen are undone by 
 taking up Commodities. 
 A Tumbler 
 
 Chap. TIL 
 Of Gull-grop- 
 ing. 
 
 To furnish 
 which feast, 
 
 these 
 Guests are 
 bidden, viz. 
 
 Chap. TV. 
 Of Ferreting 
 
 Chap. V. 
 Of Hawking 
 
 Which 
 Tragasdy hath 
 these five acts, 
 viz., 
 
 How to catch 
 Booke. 
 
 Pursenettes 
 A Ferret 
 Rabbet-suckers 
 A Warren. 
 Birdes by the 
 
 Which is 
 
 done with 
 
 five Nets, 
 
 viz., 
 
 161 
 
 fA Falconer 
 A Lure 
 
 A Tercell Gentle 
 A Bird 
 A Mongrell.
 
 i62 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Chap. VI. 
 
 Chap. VIL 
 
 Of Ranck- 
 
 Ryders. 
 
 Chap. VIII. 
 Chap. IX. 
 
 Chap. X. 
 Of Jynglers. 
 
 Chap. XI. 
 
 Chap. XII. 
 
 J Snaffle 
 A Ring 
 Provander. 
 
 Of Jackes of the Clocke-house. 
 How Inne-keepers and Hackney 
 men are sadled. 
 
 To make whome 
 goe a round pace, ■ 
 you must have, 
 
 Of Moone-men. 
 
 The infection of the suhurbes. 
 
 The Villanie oi Horse-Coursers. 
 
 {Jynglers 
 Drovers 
 C d 
 Skip- Jackes. 
 . Of Jacke in a Box, or a new 
 kinde of cheating, teaching how 
 to change Goide into silver^ 
 \ unto which is added a Map^ by 
 I which a man may learne how to 
 ITravell aii over England, and 
 have his charges borne. 
 ( The Bel-mans second Nights 
 I walke, in which hee meetes with 
 la number of Monsters that live 
 Un Darkenesse.
 
 To the verry worthy Gentleman 
 Maister Francis Mustian of Peckam, 
 
 Sir. 
 It may (happily) seeme strange unto you, that The 
 such an army of Idle-zoords should march into choice of 
 the open field of the world under the Ens'igne of P^^^*^"^ 
 your Name: (you beeing not therewith made 
 acquainted till now) you may judge it in me an 
 Error^ I my selfe confesse it a boldnesse. But 
 such an ancient and strong Charter hath Custome 
 confirmed to This Printing age of ours, (by 
 giving men authoritie to make choice of what 
 Patrons they like,) that some Writers do 
 almost nothing contrary to the custome, and 
 some by vertue of that Priviledge, dare doe any 
 thing. 1 am neither of that first order, nor of 
 this last. The one is too fondly-ceremonious, 
 the other too impudently audacious. I walk in 
 the midst (so well as I can) betweene both : 
 with some fruites that have growne out of my 
 Brains, have I bin so farre from being in love, 
 that I thought them not worthy to be tasted by 
 any particular friend, and therefore have they bin 
 exposed only to those that would entertain 
 them : neither did I thinke the Fairest that ever 
 163
 
 i64 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Two was Mine, so worthy, that it was to be lookd 
 sorts of upon with the Eye of universal censure. Two 
 madmen gQj.^g q£ ^ad-men trouble the stationers shops in 
 Paules Church-yard: they that out of a Meere 
 and Idle vaine-glory will ever be Pamphleting 
 (tho their bookes beeing printed are scarse 
 worth so much Brotune paper), and this is a 
 very poore, and foolish ambition : Of the other 
 sort are they that beeing free of Wits Merchant- 
 venturers, do every new moon (for gaine onely) 
 make 5. or 6. voiages to the Presse, and every 
 Term-time (upon Booksellers stalles) lay whole 
 litters of blinde invention: fellowes yet (it they 
 do but walke in the middle He) spit nothing but 
 ynck, and speake nothing but Poeme. I would 
 keepe company with neither of these two mad- 
 men, if 1 could avoid them, yet I take the last 
 to be the wisest and lesse dangerous : for 
 sithence al the arrowes that men shoote in the 
 world, flye to two marks only (either pleasure 
 or profit) he is not much to be condemned that 
 having no more Jcres to live uppon then those 
 that lie in his head, is every houre hammering 
 out one peice or other out of this rusty Iron age, 
 sithence the golden and silver Globes of the 
 world are so locked up, that a Scholler can 
 hardly be suffred to behold them. Some 
 perhaps wil say, that this lancing of the 
 pestilent sores of a Kingdome so openly, may 
 infect those in it that are sound, and that in this 
 our schoole, (where close abuses / and grose 
 villanies are but discovered and not punished) 
 others that never before knew such evils, wil be 
 now instructed (by the booke) to practise them.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 165 
 
 If so, then let not a traitor, or a Murderer be The 
 publikely arraigned, lest the one laying open to wi.der- 
 the world, how his plots were woven to contrive jnons^ers 
 a treason, or the other, what pollicies he was 
 armed with, for the shedding of blood, the 
 standers-by (that are honest) be drawn (by 
 their rules) to run head-long into the same 
 mischiefe : no, Our strong phisicke works 
 otherwise. What more makes a man to loath 
 that Mongrell Madnesse (that halfe English, 
 halfe Dutch sinne) Drunkennesse, then to see a 
 common Drunkard acting his Scanes in the 
 open streete ? Is any Gamester so foolish to 
 play with false Dice, when he is assured that al 
 who are about him know him to be a Siuorne 
 Cheator ? The letting therfore of Vice blood 
 in these severall Feines, which the Bel-man 
 hath opend, cannot by any Judicial rules of 
 phisicke, endanger the Bodie of the Common- 
 wealth, or make it feeble, but rather restore 
 those parts to perfect strength, which by 
 disorder have ben diseased. 
 
 Give mee leave to lead you by the hand into 
 a Wildernesse (where are none but Monsters, 
 whose crueltie you need not feare, because I 
 teach the way to tame them : ugly they are in 
 shape and divelish in conditions : yet to behold 
 them a far off, may delight you, and to know 
 their quallities (if ever you should come neere 
 them) may save you from much danger.) Our 
 Country breedes no Wolves nor Serpents, yet 
 Theise ingender here, and are either Serpents or 
 Wolves, or worse then both : what soever they 
 are, I send unto you not the Heard of the one,
 
 i66 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Uses of or the Bed of the other, but only a Picture of 
 the either. View them I pray, and where the 
 
 picture cullours are not well layde on, shadow them 
 with your finger : if you spy any disproportion, 
 thus excuse it, such Painting is Jit for Monsters : 
 How rudely soever the Peece is drawne, call it 
 a Picture. And when one more worthe your 
 vie we lies under the workemans pencil, this Bad- 
 one shall bring you home a Better : In the 
 meane time, I cease, and begin to be (if you 
 please) 
 
 All yours J 
 
 THOMAS DEKKER.
 
 To my owne Nation. 
 
 Readers, 
 
 After it was proclaimed abroad, that (under Rebels 
 the conduct of the Bel-man of London,) neiu ^^^^"^A- 
 forces were (once more) to bee leavied against ^fg?^ ^^ 
 certaine Wilde and Barbarous Retells, that 
 nvere up in open armes against the Tran- 
 quilitie of the Weale publique : // cannot bee 
 tolde what numbers of voluntaries offred themselves 
 dayly to fight against so common, so bolde, so 
 strange, and so dangerous an enemy. Light 
 Horse-men came in hourely, nvith discoverie where 
 these Mutineeres lay intrenched: delivering (in 
 brief e notes of intelligence J who were their Leaders, 
 how they went Armed, and that they served both 
 on Horse and Foot ; only their Strengthes could 
 not bee discryed, because their Numbers were 
 held infinite. Tet instructions were written and 
 sent everie minute by those that were Favourers 
 of Goodnesse shewing what Militarie Disciplines 
 the foe used in his Battailes, and what Forts (if 
 hee were put at any time to flight) he wold retire 
 to ; what stratagems hee would practize and 
 where he did determine to lye in Ambuscade. 
 167
 
 i68 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 A They that could not serve In person in This 
 usurper Noble quarrell sent their Auxiliary Forces, 
 well armed ivith Counsell. So that the Bel -man 
 (contrarie to his onvne hopes,) seeing kimselfe so 
 strongly and strangely seconded by friends, doth 
 now bravely advance forward in maine battalion. 
 The day of encounter is appointed to be in this 
 Michaelmas Tearme. The place, Paules 
 Chur[c]]h-yard, Fleetestreet, and other parts of 
 the Cittie. But before they Joy ne, let me give you 
 note of one thing, and that is this. 
 
 There is an Usurper, that of late hath taken 
 uppon him the name of the Bel-man, but being 
 not able to maintaine j that Title, hee doth nonv 
 call himselfe the Bel-mans brother : his ambition 
 is (rather out of vaine glorie then the true courage 
 of an Experienced Soldier) to have the leading 
 of the Van, but it shall be honor good enough for 
 him (if not too good) to come up luith the Rere. 
 Tou shall know him by his Habiliments, for (by 
 the furniture he nveares ) hee ivill bee taken for a 
 Beadle 0/ Bridewell. // // thought he is rather 
 a Newter than a friend to the cause : and there- 
 fore the Bel -man dooth heere openly protest that 
 he comes into the field as no felloive in armes with 
 Him. 
 
 Howsoever it be strucke, or whosoever gives 
 the first blow, the victorie depends upon the 
 vallor of you that are the IVinges to the Bel- 
 mans army ; for which conquest he is in hope 
 you will valiantly fight, sithence the quarrel is 
 against the head of monstrous abuses, and the 
 blowes which you must give are in defence of 
 Law, Justice, Order, Ceremony, Religion,
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 169 
 
 Peace, and that honorable title of Good- The bell 
 nesse. nian 
 
 Saint George ! / see the two Armies moove ^ "^^'^ces 
 forward : and beholde, the Bel-man h'lmselfe jirst 
 char get h uppon the face of the Enemy, Thus :
 
 To the Author. 
 
 How e*re thou maist by blazing all Ahuscj 
 Incurre suspect, thou speak'st what thou hast 
 
 prov'd, 
 (Tho then to keepe it close it thee behov'd, 
 So, Reason makes for thee a just excuse) 
 Yet of thy paines the Best may make good use ; 
 Then of the Best^ thy paines should be approv'd, 
 And for the fame of them shouldst be belov'd, 
 Sith thou of Falsehoods Floud do'st ope tl.e 
 
 Sluce, 
 That they at waste continually may runne, 
 By shewing men the Reaches that they have, 
 That honest men may so or'e-reach a Knave, 
 Or sound their swallowing Deepes, the same to 
 
 shunne : 
 But if from hence, a Knave, more cunning 
 
 growes, 
 That Spider sucks but poison from thy Rose. 
 
 Tky friend if thine ozvne, 
 
 lo : Da ; 
 
 170
 
 To his Friend. 
 
 Of FicBi whose Counter-mine a state confounds, 
 Worse then Sedition: of those Mortall Woundes 
 Which (throughly search'd) doe Kingdomes 
 
 hearts endanger : 
 Of Plagues that o're run Citties : of those 
 
 stranger 
 Big-swolne Impo5tu7nes^ poisning the strong 
 
 heahh 
 Of the most Sounds best Dieted Common-wealth, 
 Thou tell'st the Causes, and doest teach the 
 
 Cure, 
 By Medicine well-compounded, cheape, and 
 
 sure : 
 And (as One read in deepe Chirurgery,) 
 Draw'st of these Evils, the true Anatomy. 
 Then, on thy Plainnesse let none lay reproofe, 
 Thou tak^st Sinners heigth (as men doe starres) 
 
 aloofe. 
 
 M: R: 
 
 '71
 
 To my industrious friend. 
 
 In an ill Time thou writ'st, when Tongues had 
 
 rather 
 Spit venome on thy lines, then from thy labours 
 (As Druggists doe from poison) medicine 
 
 gather; 
 This is no Age to crowne Desert with Favors. 
 But be thou Constant to thy selfe, and care not 
 What Arrowes Mallice shootes : the Wise will 
 
 never 
 Blame thy Lowd singing, and the Foolish dare 
 
 not : 
 None else but Wolves will barke at thine En- 
 
 dez'or. 
 VVhen thou (in thy dead Sleepe) liest in thy 
 
 Grave, 
 These Charmes to after- Ages up shall raise 
 
 thee ; 
 What heere thou leav'st, alive thy Name shall 
 
 save, 
 And what thou now dispraisest, shall rhen praise 
 
 thee. 
 Tho, Not to know ill, be wise Ignorance, 
 Yet thou (by Reading Evill) doest Goodnesse 
 
 teach, 
 And, of abuse the coullors doost advance 
 Onely upon abuse to force a breach ; 
 The honor that thy fen shall earne thereby, 
 Is this : that tho Knates Live, their slights 
 (Here) dye. 
 
 E: G: 
 
 172
 
 Lanthorne and Candle-light, 
 
 Or 
 The Bell-mans second Nights walke. 
 
 Of Canting, 
 
 How long it hath beene a language : how 
 it comes to bee a language : how it is 
 derived, and by whom it is spoken. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 When all the World was but one Kingdome^ all One king- 
 the People in that Kingdome spake but one ^°"^ °"^ 
 language. A man could travail in those dayes ^^^ ^ 
 neither by Sea nor land, but he mett his Country- 
 men and none others. 
 
 Two could not then stand gabling with 
 strange tongues, and conspire together (to his 
 owne face) how to cut a third mans throat, but 
 he might understand them. There was no 
 Spaniard (in that Age) to Brave his enemy in 
 the Rich and Lofty Castilian: no Romaine 
 Orator to plead in the Rethoricall and Fluent 
 173
 
 174 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The early Latine : no Italian to court his Mistris in the 
 forms of s^y^ete and Amorous Thuscane : no French-man 
 ^ to parley in the full and stately phrase of 
 Orleans : no Germaine to thunder out the high 
 and ratling Dutch : the unfruitfuU crabbed 
 Irish, and the Voluble significant Welch, were 
 not then so much as spoken of: the quick. 
 Scottish Dialect (sister to the English) had not 
 then a tongue, neither were the stringes of the 
 English speech (in those times )untyed. When 
 / the first learn'd to speake, it was but a broken 
 language : the singlest and the simplest Words 
 flowed from her utterance : for she dealt in 
 nothing but in Monosillables, (as if to have 
 spoken words of greater length would have 
 crackt her Voice) by which meanes her 
 Eloquence was poorest, yet hardest to learne, and 
 so (but for necessity) not regarded amongst 
 Strangers. Yet afterwards those Noblest 
 Languages lent her Words andphrazes, and turn- 
 ing those Borrozcings into Good husbandry, shee 
 is now as rich in Elocution, and as aboundant as 
 her prowdest and Best-stored Neighbors. 
 
 Whilst thus (as I said before) there was but 
 one Alphabet of Letters, for all the world to 
 Read by, all the people that then lived, might 
 have wrought upon one pcece of worke in 
 countries farre distant a sunder, without mis- 
 taking one another, and not needing an 
 interpreter to runne betwcene them. Which 
 thing Nymrod (the first Idolater,) perceiving, 
 and not knowing better how to imploy so m.any 
 thousand Millions of Subjects as bowed before 
 him, a fire of Ambition burn'd within him, to
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 175 
 
 climbe up so high that hee might see what was The 
 done in heaven : And for that purpose, workmen Tower of 
 were summoned from all the corners of the "^'^^^ 
 Earthy who presently were set to Build the Toiver 
 of Babell. But the Maister avorkeman of this 
 Great Universe^ (to check the Insolence of such 
 a Sazvcie builder) that durst raize up Pynnacles, 
 equall to his owne (above), commanded the 
 selfe-same Spirit that was both bred in the Chaos 
 and had mainteind it in disorder, to bee both 
 Surveyor of those workes and Comptroller ot the 
 Labourers. This Messenger was called Con- 
 fusion. It was a Spirit swift of sight, and faithful) 
 of service. Her lookes wilde, terrible and 
 inconstant. Her attire, carelesly loose, and of 
 a thousand several! coulors. In one hand shee 
 grip'd a heape of stormes with which (at her 
 pleasure) she could trouble ye waters : In the 
 other she held a whip, to make three Spirits 
 that drew her, to gallop faster before her : the 
 Spirits names were / Treason, Sedition, and War, 
 who at every time when they went abroad, were 
 ready to set Kingdomes in an uproare. She 
 roade upon a Chariot of Clowdes, which was 
 alwayes furnished with Thunder, Lightning, 
 Winds, Raine, Haile-stones, Snonv, and all the 
 other Artillery belonging to the service of 
 Divine Vengeance, and when she spake, her Voyce 
 sounded like the roaring of many Torrents, 
 boystrously struggling together, for between her 
 Jawes did she carry 1 000000. Tongues. 
 
 This strange Linguist, stepping to every 
 Artificer that was there at worke, whispred 
 in his eare ; whose lookes were there-upon
 
 176 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The con- (presently) fild with a strange distraction: and 
 fusion of on a suddaine whilst every man was speaking to 
 tongues j^jg fellow, his language altred, and no man 
 could understand what his fellow spake. They 
 all stared one upon another, yet none of them all 
 could tell wherefore so they stared. Their 
 Tongues went, and their hands gave action to 
 their Tongues : yet neither words nor action 
 were understood. It was a Noise of a thousand 
 sounds, and yet the sound of the noise was 
 nothing. Hee that spake, knew hee spake well : 
 and he that heard, was madde that the other 
 could speake no better. In the end they grew 
 angry one with another, as thinking they had 
 mocked one another of purpose. So that the 
 Mason was ready to strike the Bricklayer, the 
 Bricklayer to beate out the braines of his 
 Labourer : the Carpenter tooke up his Axe to 
 throw at the Carver, whilst the Carver wzs 
 stabbing at the Smith, because hee brought him 
 a Hammer when he should have made him a 
 CHzzell. He that called for Timber, had 
 Stones laide before him, and when one was sent 
 for Nai/es, he fetcht a Tray of Mortar. 
 
 Thus Babel/ should have beene raized, and by 
 this meanes Babel/ fell. The Frame could not 
 goe forward, the stuffe was throwne by, the 
 workemen make hollyday. Every one packd 
 up his tooles to be gone, yet not to goe the same 
 way that he came : but glad was he, that could 
 meete another, whose speech hee understood : for 
 to what / place soever he went, others (that ran 
 madding up and downe) hearing a man speake 
 like themselves, followed onelv him : so that
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 177 
 
 they who when the worke began were all How 
 countrimen, before a quarter of it was finished, words 
 fled from one another, as from enemies and ^^^g^j 
 strangers : And in this maner did Men at the into 
 first make up nations : thus were words coynd language 
 into Languages^ and out of those Languages have 
 others beene molded since, onely by the mixture 
 of nations, after kingdomes have been subdued. 
 But I am now to speake of a People and a 
 Language, of both which (many thousands of 
 yeares since that Wonder wrought at Babell) the 
 world till now never made mention : yet con- 
 fusion never dwelt more amongst any Creatures. 
 The Bell-man (in his first Foyage "which, he made 
 for Discoveries) found them to bee savages^ yet 
 living in an Hand very temperate, fruitful!, full 
 of a Noble Nation, and rarely governed. The 
 Lawes, Manners and habits of these Wild-men, 
 are plainly set downe, as it were in a former 
 painted Table. Yet least happily a stranger may 
 looke upon this second Picture of them, who 
 never beheld The first, it shal not bee amisse (in 
 this place) to repeate over againe the Names of 
 all the Tribes into which they Divide themselves, 
 both when they Serve abroad in the open fields, 
 and when they lye in garrison within Tozvnes and 
 walled Citties. 
 
 And these are their Rankes as they 
 stand in order, mz. 
 
 Rufflers. 
 Upright-men. 
 Hookers, aftas Anglers 
 
 M 
 
 Roagues. 
 Wilde Roagues. 
 Triggers of Prancers.
 
 178 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The five Paillards. 
 
 rons of - . 
 
 rogues ^ora / ham-men. 
 
 Mad Tom alias of 
 Bedlam. 
 
 Whip-Jackes. 
 
 Counterfet Ciankes. 
 
 Dommerats. 
 
 Prigges. 
 
 Swadders. 
 
 Curtails. 
 
 Irish Toyles. 
 
 Swigmen. 
 
 Jarkmen. 
 
 Patricoes. 
 
 Kinchin-Coes. 
 
 Glymmerers. 
 
 Bawdy-Baskets. 
 
 Autem Morts. 
 
 Doxies. 
 
 Dells. 
 
 Kinchin-Morts, 
 
 Into thus many Regiments are they now de- 
 vided : but in former times (above foure hundred 
 yeares now past) they did consist of five Squadrons 
 onely. 
 
 1. Cursitors, alias Vagabondes. 
 
 2. Faytors. 
 
 viz. 3. Robardsemen. 
 
 4. Draw-latches. 
 
 5. Sturdy Beggars. 
 
 And as these people are strange both in 
 names and in their conditions, so doe they speake 
 a Language (proper only to themselves) called 
 canting^ which is more strange. By none but 
 the souldiers of These tottred bandes is it 
 familiarly or usually spoken, yet within lesse 
 than fourescore yeares (now past) not a word of 
 this Language was knowen. The first Inventor 
 of it, was hang'd ; yet left he apt schollers 
 behind him, who have reduced that into Methode^ 
 which be on his death-bed (which was a paire
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 179 
 
 of gallowes) could not so absolutely perfect as The 
 he desired. canting 
 
 It was necessary, that a people (so fast in- ^^nguage 
 creasing, and so daily practising new and strange 
 Fillanies), should borrow to themselves a speech, 
 wc (so neere as they could) none but themselves 
 should understand : and for that cause was this 
 Language, (which some call Pedlers French^) 
 Invented, to th'intent that (albeit any Spies 
 should secretly steale into their companies to 
 discover them) they might freely utter their 
 mindes one to another, yet avoide ye danger. 
 The Language therefore of canting, they study 
 even from their Infancy, that is to say, from the 
 very first houre, that they take upon them the 
 names of Kinchin Goes, till they are grown 
 Rufflersy or Upright men, which are the highest 
 in degree amongst them. 
 
 This / word canting seemes to bee derived 
 from the latine verbe {canto) which signifies in 
 English, to sing, or to make a sound with words, 
 thats to say to speake. And very aptly may 
 canting take his derivation a cantando, from 
 singing, because amongst these beggerly consorts 
 that can play upon no better instruments, the 
 language of canting is a kinde of musicke, and he 
 that in such assemblies can cant best, is counted 
 the best Musitian. 
 
 Now as touching the Dialect or phrase it 
 selfe, I see not that it is grounded upon any 
 certaine rules ; And no mervaile if it have none, 
 for sithence both the Father of this new kinde 
 of Learning, and the children that study to 
 speake it after him, have beene from the begin-
 
 i8o LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Deriva- ning and stil are, the Breeders and Norishers of 
 ^^°°^^" a base disorder, in their living and in their 
 cantincT ^^^^^^^ '■ how is it possible, they should 
 language observe any Method in their speech, and especi- 
 ally in such a Language, as serves but onely to 
 utter discourses of villanies ? 
 
 And yet (even out of all that Irregularity y 
 unhansomnesse, and Fountaine oi Barbarisme) do 
 they draw a kinde of forme : and in some wordes, 
 (aswell simple as compounds) retaine a certaine 
 sake, tasting of some wit and some Learning. 
 As for example, they call a cloake (in the 
 canting tongue) a Togeman^ and in Latin, Toga 
 signifies a gowne, or an upper garment. Pannam 
 is bread : and Pants in Lattin is likewise bread, 
 cassan is cheese, and is a worde barbarously 
 coynd out of the substantive caseus which also 
 signifies a cheese. And so of others. 
 
 Then by joyning of two simples, doe they 
 make almost all their compounds. As for 
 example : Nab (in the canting tongae) is a head, 
 and Nab-cheate^ is a hat or a cap, Which word 
 cheate beeing coupled to other wordes, stands in 
 verry good stead, and does excellent service : 
 For a Smelling cheate, signifies a Nose : a Prat- 
 ling chete, is a tongue. Crashing chetes, are 
 teeth : Hearing chetes are Fares : Fambles are 
 Hands : and thereupon a ring is called a Fambling 
 chete. A Muffling chete, signifies / a Napkin. A 
 Belly chete, an Apron : A Grunting chete, a Pig : 
 A Cackling Chete, a Cocke or a Capon : A Quack- 
 ing chete, a duck : A Lozughing chete, a Coiv: 
 A Bleating chete, a Calfe, or a Sheepe : and so 
 may that word be marryedto many others besides.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT i8i 
 
 The word Cove, or Coje, or Cuffin^ signifies Deriva- 
 a Man, a Fellow, &c. But differs something in tions in 
 his propertie, according as it meetes with other ^^, 
 wordes : For a Gentleman is called a Gentry langu^e 
 Cove, or Cofe : A good fellow is a Bene Cofe : 
 a Churle is called, a Quier Cufin ; Quier signi- 
 fies naught, and Cuffin (as I said before) a man : 
 and in Canting they terme a Justice of peace, 
 (because he punisheth them belike) by no other 
 name then by Quier cuffin, that is to say a 
 Churle, or a naughty man. And so. Ken signi- 
 fiing a house, they call a prison, a Quier ken, 
 thats to say, an ill house. 
 
 Many peeces of this strange coyne could I 
 shew you, but by these small stampes, you may 
 judge of the greater. 
 
 Now because, a Language is nothing els, then 
 heapes of wordes, orderly woven and composed 
 together : and that (within so narrow a circle as 
 I have drawne to my selfe) it is impossible to 
 imprint a Dictionarie of all the Canting phrases : 
 I wil at this time not make you surfet on too 
 much, but as if you were walking in a Garden, 
 you shall openly pluck here a flower, and there 
 another, which (as I take it) will be more de- 
 lightful] then if you gathered them by hand- 
 fulls. 
 
 But before I lead you into that walke, stay 
 and heare a Canter in his owne language, making 
 Rithmes, albeit (I thinke) those charmes of 
 Poesie which (at the first) made the barbarous 
 tame, and brought them to civillity, can (uppon 
 these savage Monsters) worke no such wonder. 
 Yet thus he singes (uppon demaund whether any
 
 i82 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE LIGHT 
 
 A canting of his owne crue did come that way) to which 
 lyric and ^^ answers, yes (quoth he) 
 
 Canting / rithmes. 
 
 Enough — with bowsy Cove maund Nace, 
 Tour the Patring Cove in the Darkeman Case^ 
 Docked the Dell, for a Coper meke. 
 His wach shall feng a Pr ounces Nah-chete 
 Cyarum, by Salmon, and thou shalt pek my J ere 
 In thy Gan, for my watch it is nace gere. 
 For the bene bowse my watch hath a ivin i^c. 
 
 This short Lesson I leave to be construed by 
 him that is desirous to try his skill in the 
 language, which he may do by helpe of the 
 following Dictionary ; into which way that he 
 may more redily come, I will translate into 
 English, this broken French that followes in 
 Prose. Two Canters having wrangled a while 
 about some idle quarrell, at length growing 
 friends, thus one of them speakes to the other, 
 viz. 
 
 A Canter in prose. 
 
 Stoive you beene Cofe : and cut benar whiddes 
 and bing we to Rome vile, to nip a boung : so 
 shall wee have lowrefor the bowsing ken, and when 
 we beng back to the Dewese a vile, we will filch 
 some Duddes of the Ruffmans, or mill the Ken 
 for a lagge of Dudes.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 183 
 
 Thus in English. Transla- 
 
 ^ tion 
 
 Stozve you, beene cofe : hold your peace good 
 
 fellow. 
 j^nid cut benar whiddes : and speake better 
 
 words. 
 ^7jd bing we to Rome vile : and goe we to 
 
 London. 
 To nip a boung : to cut a purse. 
 So shall we have lowre : so shall we have mony. 
 For the bowsing Ken : for the Ale-house. 
 And when we bing backe : and when we come 
 
 backe. 
 Jo the Dewse-a-vile : into the Country. 
 IVe will filch some duddes : we will filch some 
 
 clothes. 
 Off the Ruffmans : from the hedges. 
 Or mill the Ken : or rob the house. 
 For a lagge of Duddes : for a bucke of clothes. 
 
 Now / turne to your dictionary. 
 
 And because you shall not have one dish 
 twice set before you, none of those Canting 
 wordes that are englished before shall here be 
 found : for our intent is to feast you with 
 varietie. 
 
 The Canters Dictionarie. 
 
 Jut em, a church. 
 Autem-mort, a married woman. 
 Boung, a purse. 
 Bordey a shilling.
 
 i84 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Vocabu- Half-a-Borde, six pence. 
 lary Bowse, drinke. 
 
 Bowsing Ken, an ale-house. 
 
 Bene, good. 
 
 Bene ship, very good. 
 
 Bufe, a Dogge. 
 
 B'lng a wast, get you hence. 
 
 Caster, a Cloake. 
 
 A Commission, a shirt. 
 
 Chates, the Gallowes. 
 
 To cly the Jerke, to be whipped. 
 
 To Catty to speake. 
 
 7b cutt bene, to speake gently. 
 
 To cutt bene whiddes, to speake good wordes. 
 
 To cutt quier whiddes, to give evil! language. 
 
 To cant^ to speake. 
 
 To couch a Hogshead, to lye downe a sleepe. 
 
 Drawers, Hosen. 
 
 Dudes, clothes. 
 
 Darhemans, the night. 
 
 Dez-:se-a-vile, the country. 
 
 Dup the Giger, open the dore, 
 
 F ambles, hands. 
 
 Fambling Chete, a Ring. 
 
 Flag, a Goat. 
 
 Glasiers, eyes. 
 
 G<3n, a mouth. 
 
 G^^(f, / a Quart pott. 
 
 Grannam, Corne. 
 
 Gybe, a writing. 
 
 Glymmer, fire. 
 
 Gigger^ a doore. 
 
 Gentry Mart, a Gentlewoman. 
 
 Gentry cofes Ken, a Noble mans house
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 185 
 
 Harman bek^ a Constable. Vocabu- 
 
 HarmanSi the Stockes. lary 
 
 Heave a bough, rob a Boothe, 
 Jarke, a Scale. 
 Ken, a house. 
 
 Lage of Dudes, a Bucke of clothes, 
 Libbege, a bed. 
 Lowre, money. 
 
 Lap, Butter, Milke, or Whaye. 
 Libken, a. house to lye in. 
 Lage, Water. 
 Light-mans, the day. 
 Mynt, Golde. 
 A Make, a halfe-penny. 
 Margery prater, a Henne, 
 Mawnding, asking. 
 To Mill, to steal e. 
 Mill a Ken, rob a house. 
 Nosegent, a Nunne. 
 Niggling, companying with a woman. 
 Pratt, a Buttock. 
 Peck, meate. 
 Poplars, Pottage. 
 Prancer, a Horse. 
 Prigging, Riding. 
 Patrico, a Priest. 
 Pad, a Way. 
 Ouaromes, a body. 
 Ruffpeck, Bacon. 
 
 Roger, or Tib of the But try, a Goose, 
 Rome I -vile, London. 
 Rome-bowse, Wine. 
 Rome-mort, a Queene. 
 Ruffmans, the woodes, or bushes.
 
 i86 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Vocabu- Ruffian, the Divell. 
 *3J7 Stampes : legges. 
 Stampers : shooes. 
 Slate : a sheete. 
 Skew : a cup. 
 Salomon : the masse. 
 
 StuUng ken : a house to receive stolne goods. 
 Skipper : a barne. 
 Strommel, straw. 
 
 Smelling chete, an Orchard or Garden. 
 To scowre the Cr.imp-ring : to weare boults. 
 Stalling : making or ordeyning. 
 Tryn'tng : hanging. 
 To twore : to see. 
 Wyn : a penny. 
 Varum : milke. 
 
 And thus have I builded up a little Mint, 
 where you may coyne wordes for your pleasure. 
 The payment of this was a debt : for the Belman 
 at his farewell (in his first Round which hee 
 walk'd) promised so much. If hce keepe not 
 touch, by tendring the due Summe, hce desires 
 forbearance, and if anv that is more rich in this 
 Canting commodity will lend him any more, or 
 any better, hee will pay his love double : In the 
 meane time, receive this, and to give it a little 
 more weight, you shall have a Canting iong, 
 wherein you may learne, how This cursed 
 Generation pray, or (to speake truth) curse such 
 Officers as punish them.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 187 
 
 A Can / ting song. 
 
 The Ruffin cly the nab of the Harmanbeck^ Another 
 
 If we rnawnd Pannam^ lap or Ruf-peck, ^"^ 
 
 Or poplars of y arum : he cuts^ bing to the Ruff- 
 mans, 
 Or els he sweares by the light-mans. 
 To put our stamps in the Harmans. 
 The ruffian cly the ghost of the Harmanbeck^ 
 If we heave a booth we cly the Jerke. 
 
 If we niggle, or mill a bowsing Ken^ 
 
 Or nip a boung that has but a win. 
 
 Or dup the giger of a Gentry cofes ken^ 
 
 To the quier cuffing we bing 
 
 And then to the quier Ken, to scowre the Cramp- 
 ring, 
 
 And then to the Trin'de on the chates, in the light- 
 mans 
 
 The Bube and Ruffian cly the Harman beck and 
 harmans. 
 
 Thus Englished. 
 
 The Divell take the Constables head. 
 
 If we beg Bacon, Butter-milke or bread, 
 
 Or Pottage, to the hedge he bids us hie, 
 
 Or sweares (by this light) ith stocks we shall 
 
 lie. 
 The Devill haunt the Constables ghoast ; 
 It we rob but a Booth, we are whipd at a poast. 
 If an ale-house we rob, or be tane with a whore, 
 Or cut a purse that has just a penny and no 
 
 more,
 
 i88 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Transia- Or come but stealing in at a Gentlemans dore ; 
 tion 'Pq ^.j^g Justice straight we goe, 
 
 And then to the Jayle to be shackled : And so 
 To be hangd on the gallowes ith day time : the 
 
 pox 
 And the Devill take the Constable and his 
 stocks. 
 
 We have Canted (I feare) too much, let us 
 now give eare to the Bel-man^ and heare what he 
 speaks in english.
 
 THE/ 
 BEL-MANS SECOND 
 
 Nights walke. 
 
 'o' 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 It was Terme time in hel (for you must under- The hall 
 stand, a Lawyer lives there aswell as heere:) by of the 
 which meanes don Lucifer (being the justice for termers 
 that Countie, where the Brimstone mines are) ^ 
 had better dooings and more rapping at his gates, 
 then all the Doctors and Empericall Quack-salvers 
 of ten citties have at theirs in a great plague-time. 
 The hal where these Termers were to try their 
 causes, was very large and strongly built, but it 
 had one fault : it was so hot that people could 
 not indure to walk there : Yet to walke there 
 they were compelled, by reason they were drawne 
 thither uppon occasions ; and such justling there 
 was of one another, that it would have grieved 
 any man to be in the thronges amongst them. 
 Nothing could bee heard but noise, and nothing 
 of that noise be understood, but that it was a 
 sound as of men in a kingdome, when on a 
 suddaine it is in an uprore. Every one brabled 
 189
 
 190 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The with him that he walked with, or if he did but 
 judge of tell his tale to his Councell, he was so eager in 
 the verry delivery of that tale, that you would 
 have sworne he did brabble : and such gnashing 
 of teeth there was when adversaries met together, 
 that the fyling of ten thousand Sawes cannot 
 yeeld a sound more horrible. The Judge of 
 the Court had a divelish countenance, and as 
 cruell hee was in punishing those that were con- 
 demned by Lawe, as hee was crabbed in his 
 lookes, whilst he sat to heare their tryals. But 
 / albeit there was no pittie to be expected at his 
 hands, yet was he so upright in justice, that 
 none could ever fasten bribe uppon him, for he 
 was ready and willing to heare the cries of all 
 commers. Neither durst any Pleader (at the 
 infernall Barre) or any officer of the Court, exact 
 any Fee of Plaintiffes, and such as complained 
 of wrongs and were opprest : but onely they 
 paide that were the wrong dooers ; those would 
 they see dambd ere they should gette out of 
 their fingers, such fellowes they were appointed 
 to vexe at the very soule. 
 
 The matters that here were put in sute, were 
 more then could bee bred in twentie Vacations, 
 yet should a man be dispatched out of hand. In 
 one Terme he had his Judgement, for heare they 
 never stand uppon Returnes^ but presently come 
 to Triall. The causes decided here are many ; 
 the Clients that complaine many ; the Coun- 
 sellors (that plead till they be hoarse,) many ; 
 the Attornies (that runne up and downe,) infinite; 
 the Clarkes of the Court, not to be numbred. 
 All these have their hands full ; day and night
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 191 
 
 are they so plagued with the bawling of Clients, The 
 that they never can rest. actions in 
 
 The Inck where-with they write, is the blood ^^^ 
 of Conjurers : they have no Paper, but all 
 thinges are engrossed in Parchment, and that 
 Parchment is made of Scriveners skinnes flead 
 off, after they have beene punished for Forgerie : 
 their Standishes are the Sculs of Usurers : their 
 Pennes, the bones of unconscionable Brokers, 
 and hard-hearted Creditors, that have made dice 
 of other mens bones, or else of perjured Execu- 
 tors and blind Over-seers, that have eaten up 
 Widdowes and Orphanes to the bare bones: and 
 those Pennes are made of purpose without Nebs, 
 because they, may cast Inck but slowly, in 
 mockery of those, who in their life time were 
 slowe in yeelding drops of pitty. 
 
 Would you know what actions are tried here ? 
 I will but turne over the Recordes, and read 
 them unto you as they hang uppon the Fyle. 
 
 The / Courtier is sued heere, and condemned 
 for Ryots. 
 
 The Soldier is sued heere and condemned for 
 murders. 
 
 The Schol/er is sued here and condemned for 
 Herezies. 
 
 The Citizen is sued here and condemned for 
 the city -sins. 
 
 The Farmer is sued heere upon Penal Statutes, 
 and condemned for spoyling the Markets. 
 
 Actions of batterie are brought against 
 Swaggerers ; and heere they are bound to the 
 peace. 
 
 Actions of Waste are brought against
 
 192 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The court drunkards and Epicures ; and heere they are 
 
 of the condemned to begge at the Grate for one drop 
 
 dar^ess °^ colde water to coole their tongues, or one 
 
 crum of breade to stay their hunger, yet are they 
 
 denyed it. 
 
 Harlots have processe sued upon them heere, 
 and are condemned to Howling^ to Rottennesse 
 and to Stench. No Actes of Parliament that 
 have passed the Upper-house,* can be broken, 
 but here the breach is punished, and that severely, 
 and that suddenly : For here they stand uppon 
 no demur res ; no Audita-Q^uerala can heere be 
 gotten, no writs oi Errors to Reverse Judgement : 
 heere is no flying to a court of Chancery for 
 releef, yet everie one that comes heather is 
 served with a Sub-paena. No, they deale alto- 
 gether in this Court upon the Habeas Corpus^ 
 upon the Capias y uppon the Ne exeat Regneum^ 
 upon Rebellion^ uppon heavie Fines (but no Re- 
 coveries) upon writers of Out-lary^ to attache 
 the body for ever, and last of all uppon Executions, 
 after 'Judgement, which being serv'd upon a man 
 is his everlasting undooing. 
 
 Such are the customes and courses of proceed- 
 ings in the Orifices belonging to the Prince of 
 Darknesse. These hot dooings hath he in his 
 Terme-times. But upon a day when a great 
 matter was to be tryed betweene an Englishman 
 and a Dutchman, which of the two were the 
 fowlest Drinkers, and the case being a long time 
 in arguing, by reason that strong evidence came 
 in reeling on both sides, (yet it was thought that 
 
 * Heaven.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 193 
 
 the English-man would / carry it away, and cast Xhe 
 the Dutchman) on a sudden all was staid by the intelli- 
 sound of a home that was heard at the lower end fences 
 of the Hall. And everie one looking back, (as ^^°™ 
 wondering at the strangeness) "room room" was J^ \ 
 cried and made through the thickest of the 
 crowde, for a certaine spirit in the likenesse of a 
 post, who made a way on a little leane Nagge, 
 up to the Bench where Judge Radamanth with 
 his two grim Brothers [Minos and vEacus) sat. 
 This spirit was an intelligencer sent by Beelzebub 
 of Batharum into some Countries of Christen- 
 dome, to lye there as a spie, and had brought with 
 him a packet of letters from severall Leigiars, 
 that lay in those Countries, for the service of the 
 Tartarian their Lord and Maister, which packet 
 being opened, all the Letters, (because they con- 
 cernd the generall good and state of those lowe 
 Countries in Hell) were publikely reade. The 
 contents of that Letter stung most, and put them 
 all out of their law-cases, were to this purpose. 
 
 That whereas the Lord of Fiery Lakes, had his 
 Ministers in all kingdomes above the earth, whose 
 Offices were not onely to winne subjects of other 
 Princes to his obedience, but also to give notice 
 when any of his owne sworn houshold, or any 
 other that held league with him should revolt or 
 flye from their duty and allegiance : as also dis- 
 cover from time to time all plots, conspiracies, 
 machinations, or underminings, that shold be 
 laid (albeit they that durst lay them should dig 
 deepe enough) to blow up his great Infernall 
 cittie : so that if his Horned Regiment were not 
 
 N
 
 194 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The pro- suddenly mustred together, and did not lustely 
 clamation bestirre their cloven stumps, his Territories wold 
 rora e ^^ shaken, his dominions left in time unpeopl'd, 
 his forces look'd into, and his authoririe which hee 
 held in the world, contemned and laughed to 
 scorne. The reason was, that a certaine fellow, 
 The Chiide of Darkenes^ a common Night-zualker, 
 a man that had no man to waite uppon him but onely 
 a Dog^ one that was a disordered person^ and 
 I at Midnight would be ate at mens doores^ bidding 
 them (in meere mockerie) to look to their candles 
 when they themselves were in their dead sleeps : and 
 albeit he was an Officer^ yet he was but of 
 Light-carnage^ being knowne by the name of the 
 Bel-man of London^ had of late not only drawne a 
 number of the Devils owne kindred into question 
 for their lives, but had also (only by the help of 
 the lanthorn and candle) lookt into the secrets of 
 the best trades that are taught in hell, laying 
 them open to the broad eye of the world, making 
 them infamous, odious, and ridiculous : yea, and 
 not satisfied with dooing this wrong to his divell- 
 ship, very spitefully hath hee set them out in 
 print, drawing their pictures so to the life, that 
 now a horse-stealer shall not shew his head, but 
 a halter with the Hang-mans noose is ready to 
 bee fastened about it : A Foyst nor a Nip shall 
 not walke into a Fayre or a Play-house, but 
 everie cracke will cry looke to your purses : nor a 
 poore common Rogue come to a mans doore, but 
 he shall be examined if he can cant ? It this 
 Baulling fellow therefore have not his mouth 
 stop'd, the light Angels that are coynd below, 
 will never bee able to passe as they have done,
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 195 
 
 but be naild up for counterfeits. Hell will have Thesyna 
 no dooings, and the devill be no-body. gogue oi'" 
 
 This was the lyning of the Letter, and this ^ ^" 
 Letter drave them al to a Non-plus^ because they 
 knew not how to answere it. But at last advice 
 was taken, the Court brake up, the Tearme was 
 adjourn'd, (by reason that the Hell-houndes 
 were thus Plagu'd) and a common counsell in 
 hell was presently called how to redres these 
 abuses. 
 
 The Sathanicall Synagogue being set, up 
 startes the Father of Hell and Damnation^ and 
 looking verrie terribly with a paire of eies that 
 stared as wide as the mouth gapes at Bishops- 
 gate, fetching foure or five deep sighes (which 
 were nothing else but the Smoke of fire and 
 brimstone boyling in his stomacke, and shewed 
 as if hee were taking tobacco, which he often 
 times does) tolde his children and servants (and 
 the rest of the citizens that dwelt within / the 
 freedome of Hel, and sat there before him 
 upon narow low formes) that they never had 
 more cause to lay their heads together, and to grow 
 pollititians. Hee and they all knew, that from 
 the Corners of the earth, some did everie houre 
 in a day creepe forth, to come and serve him : 
 yea, that many thousands were so bewitched with 
 his favours, and his rare partes, that they would 
 come running quick to him ; his dominions (he 
 said) were great and full of people ; Emperors 
 and Kings, (in infinit numbers) were his slaves : 
 his court was ful of Princes ; if the world were 
 divided (as some report) but into three parts, two 
 of those three were his : or if (as others affirme)
 
 196 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 First into foure parts, [in] almost three of that foure 
 proposal had hee firme footing. 
 
 But if such a fellow as a treble voic'd Bel- 
 man, should be suffered to pry into the infernal 
 Misteries, and into those Black Arts which 
 command the spirits of the Deep, and having 
 sucked what knowledge he can from them, to 
 turne it al into poison, and to spit it in the verie 
 faces of the professors, with a malicious intent to 
 make them appeare uglv and so to grow hatefull 
 and out of favor with the world : if such a 
 conjurer at midnight should dance in their circles 
 and not be driven out of them, hell in a few 
 yeares would not bee worth the dwelling in. 
 The great Lord of Limbo did therefore com- 
 maund all his Blacke Guard that stood about 
 him, to bestirre them in their places, and to 
 defend the Court wherein they lived : threatning 
 (besides) that his curse, and all the plagues of 
 stmking hel shold fall upon his officers, servants, 
 and subjects, unlesse they either adviz'd him, 
 how, or take some speedy order themselves to 
 punish that saucy intelligencer, the Bel-man of 
 London. Thus he spake and then sat. 
 
 At last, a foolish Devill rose up, and shot the 
 bolt of his advice, which flew thus farre, That 
 the Black-dogge of New-gate should againe bee 
 let loose, and a farre off, follow the Balling Bel- 
 man, to watch into what places hee went, and 
 what deedes of darkenesse (everie night) / hee 
 did. Hinc risus ! The whole Synodicall 
 assemblv, fell a laughing at this Wise-acre, so 
 that neither he nor his Blacke-Dogge durst barke 
 any more.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 197 
 
 Another, thinking to cleave the verrie pinne The 
 with his arrow, drew it home to the head of decision 
 Wisdome (as he imagined) ; and yet that lighted ^'"''^^^^ ^* 
 wide too. But thus shot his Counsell, that the 
 Ghosts of all those theeves. Cheaters, and others 
 of the damned crew, (who by the Bel-mans dis- 
 coverie, had bene betraied, were taken and sent 
 westward) should bee fetched from those fields 
 of Horror, where everie night they walke, 
 disputing with Doctor Story, who keepes them 
 company there in his corner Cap : and that those 
 wry-neck'd spirits should have charge given them 
 to haunt the Bel-man in his walkes, and so 
 fright him out of his wittes. This Devill for 
 all his roaring, went away neither with a 
 Plaudit e, nor with a hisse : Others step'd up, 
 some pronouncing one verdict some another : 
 But at the last, it beeing put into their Divelish 
 heads, that they had no power over him farther 
 then what shold be given unto them, it was 
 concluded and set downe as a rule in Court, that 
 some one strange spirit, who could transport 
 himselfe into all shapes, should be sent uppe to 
 London, and scorning to take revenge uppon so 
 meane a person as a Bel-ringer, should thrust 
 himselfe into such companyes, (as in a warrant 
 to bee signed for that purpose) should bee 
 nominated : and beeing once growne familiar 
 with them, hee was to worke and winne them 
 by all possible meanes to fight under the dismall 
 and blacke collours of the Grand Sophy, (his 
 Lord and Master) ; the fruite that was to grow 
 uppon this tree of evill, would bee greate, for it 
 should bee fit to bee served up to Don Lucifers
 
 iqs lanthorne and candle-light 
 
 Pamer- Table, as a new banqueting Dish, sithence all 
 
 siel s j^jg other meates, (though they fatted him well) 
 mission ^ \ a J / 
 
 were grown stale. 
 
 Hereupon Pamersiell the Messenger was 
 called, a passport was drawne, signed and de- 
 livered to him, with certaine instruments how to 
 carry himselfe in this travell. / And thus much 
 was openly spoken to him by word of mouth. 
 
 Fly, Pameniel, with speede to the great and 
 populous citie in the West : winde thy selfe into 
 all shapes : bee a Dogge (to fawne) a Dragon 
 (to confound) bee a Dove (seeme innocent) bee 
 a Devill (as thou art) and shew that thou art a 
 Journeyman to hel. Build rather thy nest amongst 
 zvillozues that bend everie way, then on tops of 
 Oakes^ whose hearts are hard to be broken : Fly 
 with the Sivalloiv, close to ye earth, when 
 stormes are at hand, but keep company with 
 Birdes of greater tallants^ when the weather is 
 cleare, and never leave them till they looke like 
 Ravens : creepe into bosoms that are buttond 
 up in sattin and there spred the wings of thine 
 infection : make everie head thy pillow to leane 
 upon, or use it like a Mill, onely to grinde 
 mischiefe. If thou meetst a Dutchman^ drinke 
 with him : if a Frenchman, stab : if a Spaniard, 
 betray : if an Italian poyson : if an Englishman 
 doe all this. 
 
 Haunt Taverns, there thou shalt finde 
 prodigalls : pay thy two-pence to a Player, in 
 his gallerie maist thou sitte by a Harlot : at 
 Ordinaries maist thou dine with silken fooles : 
 when the day steales out of the world, thou shalt 
 meete rich drunkards, under welted gownes
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 199 
 
 search for threescore in the hundred, hiiggc Advice to 
 those golden villaines, they shine bright, and Pamer- 
 will make a good shew in hell, shriek with a ^ 
 cricket in the brezo-kouse^ and watch how they 
 conjure there : Ride up and down Smith-field^ 
 and play the Jade there : Visit prisons, and 
 teach Jaylors how to make nets of Iron there : 
 binde thy selfe Prentice to the best trades : but 
 if thou canst grow extreame ritch in a very short 
 time (honestly) I banish thee my kingdome, 
 come no more into hell : I have red thee a 
 lecture, followe it, farewell. 
 
 No sooner was farewell spoken, but the spirit 
 to whom all these matters were given in charge 
 vanished : the cloven footed Orator arose, and 
 the whole assembly went about their damnable 
 businesse. 
 
 GUL-/ GROPING. 
 
 How Gentlemen are cheated at Ordinaries. 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 The Divels foote-man was very nimble of his 
 heeles (for no wilde-Irish man could out-runne 
 him), and therefore in a few houres, was he 
 come up to London : the miles betweene Hell 
 and any place upon earth being shorter then 
 those betweene London and Sainte Albones, to 
 any man that travels from thence thither, or to 
 any Lackey that comes from hence hether on 
 the Devils errands : but to any other poore
 
 200 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Advice soule, that dwells in those low countries, they 
 of Pride ^j-g never at an end, and by him are not possible 
 to bee measured. 
 
 No sooner was he entred into the Cittie, but 
 hee met with one of his Maisters daughters 
 called Pride, drest like a Marchants wife, who 
 taking acquaintance of him, and understanding 
 for what hee came, tolde him, that the first 
 thing hee was to doe, hee must put himselfe in 
 good cloathes, such as were sutable to the 
 fashion of the time, for that here, men were 
 look'd uppon onely for their outsides : he that 
 had not ten-pounds worth of wares in his shop, 
 would carry twentie markes on his back : that 
 there were a number of sumpter-horses in the 
 citty, who cared not how coursely they fed, so 
 they might weare gay trappings : yea, that some 
 pied fooles, to put on satin and velvet h\ix.foure 
 daies in the yeare did often-times undoe them- 
 selves, wives and Children ever after. The 
 spirit of the Devils Buttry hearing this, made a 
 legge to Pride for her counsell, and knowing by 
 his owne experience that everie Taylor hath his 
 hell to himselfe, under his Shop-board, (where 
 he dammes new Sattin) amongst them he thought 
 to finde best welcome, and therefore into 
 B urchin-lane hee stalkes verie mannerly. Pride 
 going along with him, and taking the upper 
 hand. 
 
 No / sooner was he entred into the rankes of 
 the Linnen Armorers, (whose weapons are 
 Spanish needles) but he was most terribly and 
 sharpely set uppon : everie prentice boy had a 
 pull at him : he feared they all had bin
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLELIGHT 201 
 
 Serjeants, because they all had him by the back : The tailor 
 never was poore devil so tormented in hell, as loses his 
 he was amongst them : he thought it had bene ^°."' 
 Saint Thomas his day, and that he had bene called 
 upon to be Constable ; there was such balling in 
 his eares : and no strength could shake them off, 
 but that they must shewe him some suites of 
 apparell, because they saw what Gentlewoman 
 was in his company (whom they all knew). 
 Seeing no remedie, into a shop he goes, was 
 fitted bravely, and beating the price, found the 
 lowest to be unreasonable, yet paide it, and 
 departed, none of them (by reason of their 
 crowding about him befor) perceiving what 
 customer they had met with ; but now the 
 Taylor spying the devill, suffered him to go, 
 never praying that he wold know the shop 
 another time, but looking round about his ware- 
 house if nothing were missing, at length he found 
 that he had lost his conscience : yet remembring 
 himselfe, that they who deale with the divel, 
 can hardly keepe it, he stood upon it the lesse. 
 
 The fashions of an Ordinarie. 
 
 The Stigtan traveller beeing thus translated 
 into an accomplish'd gallant, with all acoutre- 
 ments belonging (as a fether for his head, gilt 
 rapier for his sides, and new boots to hide his 
 polt foote) ; for in Bed-lam hee met with a 
 shoemaker, a mad slave, that knew the length 
 of his last ; it rested, onely that now he was to 
 enter uppon company sutable to his cloathes : and 
 knowing that your most selected Gallants are
 
 202 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The fiend the onelye table-men that are p-aid with al at 
 at an Ordinaries^ into an Ordinary did he most 
 ^ gentleman like, convay himselfe in state. 
 
 It seemed that al who came thether, had 
 clocks in their bellies, for they all struck into 
 the dyning roome much about the very minute 
 of feeding. Our Cavalier had all the / eyes 
 (that came in) throwne upon him, (as beeing a 
 stranger : for no Ambassador from the divell 
 ever dined amongst them before,) and he asmuch 
 took especiall notes of them. In observing of 
 whom and of the place, he found, that an 
 Ordinary was the only Rendevouz for the most 
 ingenious, most terse, most travaild, and most 
 phantastick gallant : the very Exchange for 
 newes out of al countries : the only Booke-sellers 
 shop for conference of the best Editions, that if 
 a woman (to be a Lady) would cast away 
 herself upon a knight^ there a man should heare 
 a Catalogue of most of the richest London 
 widowes : and last, that it was a schoole where 
 they were all fellowes of one Forme, and that a 
 country gentleman was of as great comming as 
 ye proudest Justice that sat there on the bench 
 above him : for he that had the graine of the 
 table with his trencher, payed no more then he 
 that plac'd himself beneath the salt. 
 
 The divels intelligencer could not be contented 
 to fill his eye onely with these objects, and to 
 feed his belly with delicate cheere : But hee 
 drew a larger picture of all that were there, and 
 in these coUours. 
 
 The voider having clcered the table, Cardes 
 and Dice (for the last Messe) are served up to the
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 203 
 
 Loord ; they that are ful of coyne, draw : they Cares 
 
 that have little, stand by and give ayme : they ^^^ dice 
 
 ^huffie and cut on one side : the bones rattle on 
 
 the other : long have they not plaide, but othes 
 
 fly up and down the roome like haile-shot : if 
 
 the pooie dumb dice be but a little out of square, 
 
 the pox and a thousand plagues breake their neckes 
 
 out at window : presently after, the foure knaves 
 
 are sent packing the same way, or els (like 
 
 heretikes are) condemned to be burnt. 
 
 In this battaile of Cardes and Dice^ are severall 
 Regiments and severall Officiers. 
 
 They that sit downe to play, are at first cald 
 Leaders. 
 
 They that lose, are the Forlorn e Hope. 
 
 He that winnes all, is the Eagle. 
 
 He that stands by and Ventures, is the Wood- 
 pecker. 
 
 The fresh Gallant that is fetcht in, is the Gull. 
 
 Hee that stands by, and lends, is the Gull' 
 groper. 
 
 The I Gull-groper. 
 
 This Gul-groper is commonly an old Mony- 
 monger, who having travaild through all the 
 follies of the world in his youth, knowes them 
 well, and shunnes them in his age ; his whole 
 felicitie being to fill his bags with golde and silver, 
 hee comes to an Ordinary, to save charges of 
 house-keeping, and will eate for his two shillings, 
 more meate then will serve three of the guard at 
 a dinner, yet sweares hee comes thether onely for 
 the company, and to converse with travailers. Its
 
 204 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE LIGHT 
 
 "he gull- a Gold-Finch that sildome flies to these 
 ^!rf?h^ Ordinary Nests, without a hundred or two 
 22 hundred pound in twenty shilling peeces about 
 him. After the tearing of some seaven paire of 
 Cardes, or the damning of some ten baile of Dice, 
 steps hee upon the Stage, and this part he playes. 
 If any of the Forlorne Hope bee a Gentleman of 
 meanes, either in Esse or in Posse, (and that the 
 olde Fox will bee sure to know to halfe an Acre,) 
 whose money runnes at a low ebbe, as may 
 appeare by his scratching of the head, and walk- 
 ing up and downe the roome, as if he wanted an 
 Ostler : The Gull-groper takes him to a side 
 window and tels him, bee's sorry to see his hard 
 luck, but the Dice are made of womens bones, 
 and will cozen any man, yet for his father's sake 
 (whom he hath knowne so long) if it please him, 
 he shall not leave off play for a hundred pound or 
 two. If my yong Estrich gape to swallow downe 
 this mettall (and for the most part they are very 
 greedy, having such provender set before them, then 
 is the gold powred on the board, a Bond is made 
 for repaiment, at the next quarter day when 
 Exhibition is sent in : and because it is all gold, 
 and cost so much the changing. The Scrivener 
 (who is a whelpe of the old Mastives owne 
 breeding) knows what words will bite, which thus 
 he fastens upon him, and in this Nette the Gull 
 is sure to be taken (howsoever :) for if he fall to 
 play againe, and loose, the hoary Goat-bearded 
 Satyre that stands at his elbow, laughes in / his 
 sleeve : if his bags be so recovered of their 
 
 Falling-sicknes, that they be able presently to 
 repay the borrowed gold, then Monsieur Gul-
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 205 
 
 groper steales away of purpose to avoide the The gull's 
 receipt of it ; he hath fatter Chickens in hatch- after 
 ing : tis a fayrer marke he shootes at. For the career 
 day being come when the bond growes due, the 
 within named Signior Avaro will not be within : 
 or if he be at home, he hath wedges enough in 
 his pate, to cause the bond to bee broken, or 
 else a little before the day, he feeds my young 
 Maister with such sweet words, that surfetting 
 upon his protestations, hee neglects his paiment, 
 as presuming hee may do more. But the Law 
 having a hand in the forfeiture of the bond, laies 
 presently hold of our yong Gallant with the 
 helpe of a couple of Serjeants, and just at such a 
 time when old Erra Pater (the Jew) that lent 
 him the money, knowes by his owne Prognostica- 
 tion, that the Moone with the silver face is with 
 him in the waine. Nothing then can free him out 
 of the fangs of those bloud-hounds, but he 
 must presently confesse a judgment, for so much 
 money, or for such a Manor or Lordship (three 
 times worth the bond forfeited) to be paid or to 
 be entred upon by him, by such a day, or 
 within so many moneths after he comes to his 
 land. And thus are young heires cozend out 
 of their Acres, before they well know where they 
 lye. 
 
 ITje Wood-pecker. 
 
 The Wood-pecker is a bird that sits by upon a 
 perch too ; but is nothing so dangerous, as this 
 Vulture spoken of before. He deales altogether 
 upon Returnes, (as men do that take three for
 
 206 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 How the one, at their comming back from Jerusalem, &c.) 
 ^°k r ^°^ having a Jewell, a Clock, a Ring with a 
 scores I^i^^nond, or any such like commoditie, he 
 notes him well that commonly is best acquainted 
 with the Dice, and hath ever good luck : to 
 him he offers his prize, rating it at ten or 
 fifteene pound, when happily tis not worth above 
 six, and for it he bargaines to receive five shil- 
 lings or ten shillings (according as it is in value) at 
 every / hand, second, third, or fourth hand he 
 drawes : by which means he perhaps in a short 
 time, makes that yeeld him forty or fifty pound, 
 which cost not halfe twenty. Many of these 
 Merchant venturers saile from Ordinary to 
 Ordinary, being sure alwayes to make saving 
 Voiages, when they that put in ten times 
 more then they, are for the most part 
 loosers. 
 
 The Gull, 
 
 Now if either The Leaders^ or The Forlorne 
 Hope^ or any of the rest, chance to heare of a 
 yong Fresh-water soldier that never before 
 followed these strange warres, and yet hath a 
 Charge newly given him (by the old fellow 
 Soldado Vecchio his father, when Death had 
 shotte him into the Grave) of some ten or 
 twelve thousand in ready money, besides so 
 many hundreds a yeare : first are Scoutes sent 
 out to discover his Lodging : that knowne, 
 some lie in ambush to note what Apothecaries 
 shop hee resorts too every morning, or in what 
 Tobacco-shop in Fleet-street he takes a pipe
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 207 
 
 of Smoake in the afternoone : that fort which How to 
 the Puny holds, is sure to be beleaguerd by the catch a 
 whole troope of the old weather beaten Gallants : ^" 
 amongst whom some one, whose wit is thought 
 to be of a better block for his head, than the 
 rest, is appointed to single out our Novice, and 
 after some foure or five dayes spent in Comple- 
 ment, our heire to seaven hundred a yeare is 
 drawne to an Ordinary, into which he no 
 sooner enters, but all the old-ones in that Nest 
 flutter about him, embrace, protest, kisse the 
 hand. Conge to the very garter, and in the end 
 (to shew that hee is no small foole, but that 
 he knows his father left him not so much monie 
 for nothing,) the yong Cub sufl^ers himselfe to 
 be drawne to the stake : to flesh him, Fortune 
 and the Dice (or rather the False-dice, that 
 coozen Fortune, and make a foole of him too) 
 shall so favor him, that he marches away from 
 a battaile or two, the onely winner. But after- 
 wards, let him play how warily soever he can, 
 the damned Dice shall crosse / him, and his silver 
 crosses shall blesse those that play against him : 
 for even they that seeme deerest to his bosome, 
 shall first be ready, and be the formost to enter 
 with the other Leaders into conspiracy, how 
 to make spoile of his golden bags. By such 
 ransacking of Cittizens sonnes wealth, the 
 Leaders maintaine themselves brave, the 
 Forlorne-hope, that droop'd before, does now 
 gallantly come on. The Eagle fethers his nest, 
 the Wood-pecker pickes up his crums, the Gull- 
 groper growes fat with good feeding : and the 
 Gull himselfe, at whom every one has a Pull,
 
 2o8 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Letters hath in the end scarce fethers enough to kcepe 
 to hell his owne back warme. 
 
 The Post-maister of Hell, seeing such 
 villanies to go up and downe in cloakes lin'd 
 cleane through with Velvet, was glad he had 
 such newes to send over, and therefore seaHng 
 up a letter full of it, delivered the same to 
 tilthy-bearded Charon (their owne Water-man) 
 to be convaide first to the Porter of Hell, and 
 then (by hira) to the Maister Keeper of the 
 Divels.
 
 Of Ferreting. 
 
 The Manner of undooing Gentlemen by 
 taking up of commodities. 
 
 CHAPTER nil. 
 
 Hunting is a noble, a manly, and a healthful! The noble 
 
 exercise ; it is a very true picture of warre, fpo^'v °^ 
 
 . .' • •: ir r • hunting: 
 
 nay it is a war in it selfe ; for engines are *' 
 
 brought into the field, stratagems are contrived, 
 
 ambushes are laide, onsets are given, allarums 
 
 struck up, brave incounters are made, fierce 
 
 assailings are resisted by strength, by courage or 
 
 by pollicy : the enemy is pursued, and the 
 
 Pursuers never give over till they have him in 
 
 execution : then is a Retreat sounded, then are 
 
 spoiles divided, then come they home wearied, 
 
 but yet crowned with honor and victory. 
 
 And as in battailes there be severall maners of 
 
 fight : so in the pastime of hunting, there are 
 
 severall degrees of game. Some hunt the / 
 
 Lion, and that shewes as when subjects rise in 
 
 Armes against their King : Some hunt the 
 
 Unicorne for the treasure on his head, and they 
 
 are like covetous men, that care not wnome 
 
 o 209
 
 210 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Different they kill for riches : some hunt the Spotted 
 kinds of Panther and the freckled Leopard, they are 
 game g^^j^ ^^ ^^ injoy their pleasures, regard not how 
 blacke an intamy stickes upon them : All these 
 are barbarous and unnaturall Huntsmen for 
 they range up and downe the Deserts, the 
 Wildernes, and inhabitable Mountaines. 
 
 Others pursue the long lived Hart, the 
 couragious Stag or the nimble footed Deere : 
 these are the Noblest hunters, and they exercise 
 the Noblest game : these by following the 
 Chace get strength of body, a free and undis- 
 quited minde, magnanimity of spirit, alacrity of 
 heart and an unwearisomnesse to breake through 
 the hardest labours : their pleasures are not 
 insatiable but are contented to be kept within 
 limits, for these hunt within Parkes inclosed, or 
 within bounded Forrests. The Hunting of the 
 Hare teaches feare to be bould, and puts 
 simplicity so to her'shifts, that she growes cunning 
 and provident : the turnings and crosse windings 
 that she makes, are embleames of this lifes un- 
 certainty : when she thinkes she is furdest from 
 danger, it is at her hceles, and when it is nerest 
 to her, the hand of safety defends her. When 
 she is wearied and has runne her race, she takes 
 her death patiently, onely to teach man, that he 
 should make himselfe redy, when the grave 
 gapes for him. 
 
 All these kinds of hunting are abroad in the 
 open field, but there is a close citty hunting onely 
 within the walls, that pulles downe Parkes, layes 
 open forrests, destroies Chaces, woundes the 
 Deere of the land, and make^sj such havocke
 
 LANTHORNE AND CAN^ 
 
 -LIGHT 211 
 
 of the goodliest Heards, that by i^ .., ^^^ 
 
 (who are the rangers,) none should be lei^^. ' seasons 
 but the Rascalls : This kinde of hunting . for ferret- 
 base, and ignoble. It is the meanest, yet the ''i^^^^S 
 most mischievous, and it is called Ferreting. To 
 behold a course or two at this, did the light 
 horseman of Hell one day leape into the 
 saddle. 
 
 City / -Hunting, 
 
 This Ferret- Hunting hath his Seasons as other 
 games have, and is onely followed at such a 
 time of yeare, when the Gentry of our kingdome 
 by riots, having chased them-selves out of the 
 faire revenewes and large possession left to them 
 by their ancestors, are forced to hide their heads 
 like Conies, in little caves and in unfrequented 
 places : or else being almost windles, by running 
 after sensuall pleasures too feircely, they are 
 glad (for keeping them-selves in breath so long 
 as they can) to fal to Ferret-huntings yt is to 
 say, to take up commodities. No warrant can 
 bee graunted for a Bucke in this /arrest, but it 
 must passe under these five hands. 
 
 1 He that hunts up and downe to find game, 
 is called the Tumbler. 
 
 2 The commodities that are taken up are 
 cald Purse-nets. 
 
 3 The Cittizen that selles them is the 
 Ferret. 
 
 4 They that take up are the Rabbit-suckers. 
 
 5 He upon whose credit these Rabbit-suckers 
 runne, is called the Warren.
 
 212 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 How the Warren is made. 
 
 The After a raine, Conies use to come out of their 
 warren Holes and to sit nibling on weeds or anything in 
 of the j.}^g coole of the evening, and after a reveling 
 when younger brothers have spent all, or in 
 gaming have lost all, they sit plotting in their 
 chambers with necessity how to be furnished 
 presently with a new supply of money. They 
 would take up any commodity whatsoever, but 
 their names stand in too many texted letters all- 
 ready in Mercers and Scriveners bookes : upon 
 a hundred poundes worth of Roasted beefe they 
 could finde in their hearts to venture, for that 
 would away in turning of a hand : but where 
 shall they find a Butcher or a Cooke that will 
 let any man runne so much upon the score for 
 flesh onely ? 
 
 Sup / pose therefore that Foure of such loose 
 fortun'd gallants were tied in one knot, and 
 knew not how to fasten themselves upon some 
 welthy cittizen. At the length it runnes into 
 their heads that such a young Novice (who 
 daily serves to fill up their company) was never 
 intangled in any citty limebush : they know his 
 present meanes to be good, and thos to come to 
 be great : him therefore they lay upon the 
 Anvill of their wits, till they have wrought him 
 like wax, for him-selve as well as for them : to 
 doe any thing in wax, or indeed till they have 
 won him to slide upon this ice, (because he 
 knowes not the danger) is he easily drawne: 
 for he considers within himselfe that they are all 
 gentlemen well descended, they have rich
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 213 
 
 fathers, they weare good clothes, have bin The 
 gallant spenders, and do now and then (still) let tricks of 
 it fly freely: hee is to venture uppon no "^ore ^^^l^j^^ 
 rockes than all they, what then should hee 
 feare ? hee therefore resolves to do it, and the 
 rather because his owne exhibition runnes low, 
 and that there lacke a great many wcekes to the 
 quarter day ; at which time, he shalbe re- 
 furnished from his father. 
 
 The Match being thus agreed upon, one ot 
 them that has beene an ould Ferret-monger, and 
 knowes all the trickes of such Hunting, seckes 
 out a Tumbler, that is to say a fellow, who 
 beates the bush for them till they catch the 
 birds, he himselfe being contented (as he pro- 
 tests and sweares) onely with a few fethers. 
 
 The Tumblers Hunting dry-foote. 
 
 This Tumbler being let loose runnes SnuflSng 
 up and downe close to the ground, in the shoppes 
 either of Mercers, Goldsmithes, Drapers, 
 Haberdashers, or of any other trade, where hee 
 thinckes hee may meete with a Ferret : and 
 tho upon his very first course, hee can find his 
 game, yet to make his gallants more hungry, 
 and to thinke he wearies himselfe in hunting the 
 more, hee comes to them sweating and swearing 
 that the City- Ferrets are so coaped (thats to 
 say have / their lips stitched up so close) that 
 hee can hardly get them open to so great a sum 
 as five hundred poundes which they desire. 
 This hearbe beeing chewd downe by the 
 Rabbit-suckers almost kils their hearts, and is
 
 214 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Tricks worse to them then nabbing on the neckes to 
 . Ki ^°^'^'^s- They bid him if he cannot fasten his 
 teeth upon plate or Clorh, or Sillies, to lay 
 hold on browne paper or Tobacco, Bartholemew 
 babies, Lute stringes or Hobnailes, or two 
 hundred poundes in Saint Thomas Onions, and 
 the rest in mony ; the Onions they coulde get 
 wenches enough to cry and sell them by the 
 Rope, and what remaines should serve them with 
 mutton. Uppon this, their Tumbler trottes uppe 
 and downe agen, and at last lighting on a Citizen 
 that will deale^ the names are received, and 
 delivered to a Scrivener, who enquiring whether 
 they bee good men and true, that are to passe 
 uppon the life and death of five hundred poundes, 
 findes \.\i2Xfoure of the^t'<?, are winde-shaken, 
 and ready to fall into the Lordes handes. Marry 
 the fift man, is an Oake, and theres hope that he 
 cannot bee hewed downe in haste. Upon him 
 therefore the Citizen buildes so much as comes 
 to five hundred poundes, yet takes in the other 
 foure to make them serve as scaffolding, till the 
 Farme bee furnished, and if then it hold, he 
 cares not greafly who takes them downe. In 
 al hast, are the bondes seald, and the com- 
 modities delivered, And then does the Tumbler 
 fetch his second carreere, and thats this. 
 
 The Tumblers Hunting Counter. 
 
 The wares which they fished for beeing in 
 the hand of the five shavers, do now more 
 trouble their wirs how to turne those Wares 
 into reddy mony, then beefore they were
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 215 
 
 troubled to turn their credits into wares. The The fee 
 Tree being once more to be shaken, they knowe P 1^ 
 it must loose fruite, and therefore their Factor 
 must barter away their Marchandise, tho it be 
 with losse : Abroad is in / to the Cittie : he 
 Sailes for that purpose, and deales with him that 
 sold^ to buy his owne Commodities againe for 
 ready mony. He will not doe it under 30 1. 
 losse in the Hundred : Other Archers bowes are 
 tryed at the same marke, but all keepe much 
 about one scantling : back therfore comes their 
 Carrier with this newes, that no man will 
 disburse so much present money uppon any 
 wares whatsoever. Onely he met by good 
 fortune with one friend (and that friend is him- 
 selfe) who for 10. 1. wil procure them a 
 Chapaian, marry that chapman wil not buy 
 unlesse he may have them at 30. 1. losse in the 
 Hundred : fuh, cry all the Sharers, a pox on 
 these Fox-furd Curmudgions, give that fellow 
 ^OMS friend 10. I. for his paines, and fetch the 
 rest of his money : within an houre after, it is 
 brought, and powr'd downe in one heape uppon 
 a taverne table ; where making a goodly shew 
 as if it could never be spent, al of them consult 
 what fee the Tumbler is to have for Hunting so 
 wel, and conclude that lesse then 10. 1. they 
 cannot give him, which 10. 1. is ye first mony 
 told out. Now let us cast up this Account : 
 In every 100. 1. is lost 30. which being 5 
 times 30. 1. makes 150. 1. : that Sum the 
 Ferret puts up cleer besides his overprising the 
 wares : unto which 150. 1. lost, ad 10. 1. more 
 which the Tumbler guls them off, and other 10. 1.
 
 2i6 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The day which he hath for his voyage, ai which makes 
 of repay- lyo. 1. ; which deducted from 500. I. there 
 ™^" remaineth onely 330. to be devided amongst 5. 
 so that every one of ye partners shall have but 
 66. 1. yet this they all put up merily, washing 
 down their losses with Sack and Sugar, whereof 
 they drinke that night profoundly. 
 
 How the Warren is spoyled. 
 
 Whilst this faire weather lasteth, and that 
 there is any grasse to nibble upon, These Rabbit 
 suckers keep to the Warren wherein they 
 fatned : but the cold day of repaiment approach- 
 ing, they retire deepe into their Caves ; so that 
 when the Ferret makes account to have five 
 before him in chase, foure oi \.\i^ five ly hidden, 
 and /are stolne into other grounds. No marvell 
 then if the Ferret growe fierce and teare open his 
 own jawes, to suck blood from him that is left : 
 no marvaile if he scratch what wool he can 
 from his back : the Pursnets that were Set are 
 all Taken up and carried away. The Warren 
 therefore must bee Searched : That must pay 
 for all : over that does hee range like a little 
 Lord. Sargeants, Marshals-men, and Baliffes 
 are sent forth, who lie scowting at every corner 
 and with terrible pawes haunt every walke. In 
 conclusion the bird that these Hawkes flie after, 
 is seazd upon, then are his fethers pluck'd, his 
 estate look'd into ; then are his wings broken, 
 his lands made over to a stranger ; then must our 
 yong son and heire pay 500 I. (for which 
 he never had but 66. 1.) or else lie in prison.
 
 unwary 
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 217 
 
 To keep himselfe from which, he scales to any How ruin 
 
 bond,enters into any statute, morgageth any Lord- comes on 
 
 ship, Does any thing, Saies any thing, yeelds to ^^ 
 
 pay any thing. And these City stormes (which 
 
 will wet a man till he have never a dry threed 
 
 about him, tho he be kept never so warme) fall 
 
 not upon him once or twice : But being a 
 
 little way in, he cares not how deepe he wades : 
 
 ye greater his possessions are, the apter he is to 
 
 take up and to be trusted : the more he is trusted, 
 
 the more he comes in debt, the farther in debt, 
 
 the neerer to danger. Thus Gentlemen are 
 
 wrought upon, thus are they Cheated, thus are 
 
 they Ferreted, thus are they Undone, 
 
 Falc 
 
 oners. 
 
 Of a new kinde of Hawking, teaching how 
 to catch birds by bookes. 
 
 Hunting and Hawking are of kin, and there- 
 fore it is fit they should keepe company together : 
 Both of them are noble Games, and Recreations, 
 honest and healthful, yet they may so be abused 
 that nothing can be mor hurtfull. In Hunting, 
 the Game is commonlye still before you, or i'th 
 hearing, and within a little compasse : In 
 Hawking j the game flies farre oW, and often- 
 times out of sight : A Couple of Rookes there- 
 fore (that were birds of the last feather) 
 conspired together to leave their nest, in the 
 City, and to flutter abroad, into the countrie :
 
 2i8 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Falconers Upon two leane hackneies were these two 
 Doctor Doddipoh horst ; Civilly suited, that they 
 might carry about them some badge of a 
 Scholler. 
 
 The divels Ranck-ryder, that came from the 
 last Citty-hunting understanding that two such 
 Light-horsemen, were gon a Hazuking^ posts 
 after and over-takes them. After some ordinary 
 high-way talk, he begins to question of what 
 profession they were ? One of them smyling 
 scornfully in his face, as thinking him to be 
 some Gullj (and * indeed such fellowes take 
 all men for Guiles who they thinke to be be- 
 neath them in quallitie) tolde him they were 
 Falconers. But the Foxe that followed them 
 seeing no properties, (belonging to a Falconer) 
 about them, smelt knavery, took them for a 
 paire of mad rascals, and therfore resolved to see 
 at what these Falconers would let flie. 
 
 How to cast up the Lure. 
 
 At last on a suddaine sales on[|e3 of them 
 to him, sir, wee have Sprung a Partridge^ and 
 so fare you wel : which wordes came stammer- 
 ing out with the haste that they made, for pre- 
 sently the two Forragers of the Countrie, were 
 uppon the Spurre : Plutoes Post seeing this, 
 stood still to watch them, and at length saw 
 them in maine gallop make toward a goodly 
 faire place, where either some Knight or some 
 great Gentleman kept : and this goodly house 
 
 * Qui nisi quod ipsi faciunt nihil rectum putant.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 219 
 
 belike was the Partridge which 'iho^^ falcojiers Descrip- 
 had sprung. Hee beeing loath to loose his tion of 
 share in this Hawking, and having power to ^ "^^ 
 transforme himselfe as hee listed, came thither 
 as soone as they, but beheld all (which they 
 did) invisible. They both like two Knights 
 Errant alighted at the Gate, knocked and were 
 lette in : the one walkes the Hackneyes in an 
 outward Court, as if hee had bene but Squire 
 to Sir Dagonet, the other / (as boldly as Saint 
 George when he dar'd the dragon at his verrie 
 Den) marcheth undauntedly up to the Hall, where 
 looking over those poore creatures of the house, 
 that weare but the bare Blew-coates (for Aquila 
 non capit Miiscas) what should a Falconer 
 meddle with flies ? hee onely salutes him that in 
 his eye seemes to bee a Gentlemanlike fellow : 
 Of him he askes for his good Knight or so, and 
 sales that he is a f Gentleman come from 
 London on a businesse, which he must deliver 
 to his owne Worshipful! Bare. Up the staires 
 does brave Mount Dragon ascend : the Knight 
 and he encounter, and with this stafFe does he 
 valiantly charge upon him. 
 
 Hozv the Bird is Caught, 
 
 Sir I am a poore * Scholler, and the report 
 of your vertues hath drawne me hither, ventur- 
 ously bolde to fixe your worthy name as a 
 
 * Et quce non fecimus ipsi, vix ea nostra voco. 
 t Senstos fuit ille Caducus Frange Puer, Calamos et 
 inanes desere Musas. Quid nisi Monstra legit ?
 
 220 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The false patronage to a poore short discourse which here 
 
 scholar X dedicate (out of my love) to your noble and 
 
 eternal! Memory : this speech he utters barely. 
 
 The Haziking pamphleter is then bid \.oput on^ 
 whilst his Miscellane Macenas^ opens a booke 
 fairely aparreld in vellom with gilt fillets and 
 fore-penny silke ribbon at least, like little 
 streamers on the top of a Marchpane Castle, 
 hanging dandling by at ye foure corners : the 
 title being superficially survaide, in the next 
 leafe he sees that the Author kee hath made 
 him one of his Gossips : for the booke carries 
 his worships name, and under it stands an Epistle 
 just the length of a Hench-mans grace before 
 dinner, which is long inough for any booke in 
 conscience, unlesse the writer be unreasonable. 
 
 The knight being told before hand, that this 
 little sunbeame of Phcehus (shining thus briskly 
 in print) hath his Mite or Atmy wayting uppon 
 him in the outward court, thankes him for his 
 love and labour, and considering with himselfe, 
 what cost he hath beene at, and how farre he 
 hath ridden to come to him, he knowes that 
 Patrons and Godfathers are to pay scot and lot 
 alike, and there / fore to cherish his young and 
 tender Muse, he gives him foure or sixe Angells, 
 inviting him either to stay breakefast, or if the 
 sundial! of the house points towards eleaven, then 
 to tary dinner. 
 
 How the bird is drest. 
 
 But the fish being caught (for which our 
 Heliconian Angler threw out his lines) with
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 221 
 
 thankes, and legs, and kissing his own hand, he The devil 
 parts. No sooner is he horst, but his Hostler overhears 
 (who all this while walked the jades, and ^^® ®^®^ 
 travailes up and down with him, like an undeserv- 
 ing plaier for halfe a share) askes this question, 
 Strawes or not ? Strawes cries the whole sharer 
 and a halfe : away then replies the first, iiie to our 
 nest : This nest is never in the same towne but 
 commonly a mile or two off; and it is nothing 
 els but the next Taverne they come to. But 
 the Village into which they rode being not able 
 to maintaine an Ivybush, an Ale-house was their 
 Inne : where advancing themselves into the 
 fairest Chamber, and beespeaking the best cheere 
 in the towne for dinner, down they sit, and share 
 before they speake of any thing els : That done, 
 he that ventures upon all he meetes, and dis- 
 charges the paper Bullets, (for to tell truth, the 
 other serves but as a signe^ and is meerely /zo^o^y) 
 beginnes to discourse, ho'^v he caried himselfe in 
 the action, hoiv he was encountred : how he 
 stood to his tackling, and how well hee came off: 
 he cals the Knight, a Noble fellow^ yet they 
 both shrug, and laugh, and sweares they are glad 
 they have Guld him. 
 
 More arrowes must they shoote of the same 
 length that this first was off, and therfore there 
 is Trunckful of Trinckets, thats to say, their 
 budget of Bookes, is opend againe, to see what 
 leafe they are to turne over next ; which whilst 
 they are dooing, the Ghost that al this space 
 haunted them, and hard what they said, having 
 excellent skill in the blacke-art, thats to say in 
 picking of lockes, maks the dore suddenly flye
 
 222 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The devil open (which they had closely shut)./ At his 
 gulls the strange entrance they being somwhat agast, began 
 snaxpers ^.^ shuffle away their bookes, but he knowing 
 what cardes they plaide withal, offred to cut, 
 and turnd up two Knaves by this trick : My 
 maisters (quoth he) I knowe where you have 
 bin, I know what you have don, I know what 
 you raeane to do. I see now you are Falconers 
 indeed, but by the (and then he swore a dam- 
 nable oth) unlesse you teach me to shoote in 
 this Birding-peece^ I will raise the Village, send 
 for the knight whome you boast you have guldy 
 and so disgrace you : for your money I care not. 
 The two Free-booters seeing themselves 
 smoakd, told their third Brother, he seemd to 
 be a gentleman and a boone companion : they 
 prayed him therefore to sit downe with silence, 
 and sithence dinner was not yet ready, hee 
 should heare all. 
 
 This new kinde of Uawking (qd. one of 
 them) which you see us use, can afford no name 
 unles 5. be at it, vix. 
 
 1. He that casts up the Lure is called the 
 Falconer, 
 
 2. The Lure that is cast up is an idle Pamphlet. 
 
 3. The Tercel Gentle that comes to the Lure, 
 is some knight or some gentleman of like qualitie. 
 
 4. The Bird that is preied upon, is Money. 
 
 5. Hee that walkes the horses, and hunts dry 
 foote, is cald a MongrelL 
 
 Tie Falconer and his B panic II. 
 The Falconer having scraped together certame
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 223 
 
 small paringes of witte, he first cuttes them han- The 
 somely in pretty peeces, and of those peeces falconer 
 does he patch uppe a booke. This booke he ^"^ ^^^ 
 prints at his own charge, the Mongrell running "^°"S^^ 
 uppe and downe to look to the workemen, and 
 bearing likewise some parte of the cost, (for 
 which he enters upon his halfe share). When 
 it is fully finished, the Falconer and his Mongrell, 
 (or it may bee two Falconers joyne in one,) but 
 howsoever, it is by them devised what Shire in 
 England it is best to forrage next : that / beeing 
 set downe, the Falconers deale either with a 
 Herauld for a note of all the Knights and 
 Gentlemens names of worth that dwell in that 
 circuity which they meane to ride, or els by 
 inquiry get the chiefest of them, printing of so 
 many Epistles as they have names ; ye epistles 
 Dedicatory being all one, and vary in nothing 
 but in the titles of their patrons. 
 
 Having thus furnished themselves and packed 
 up their wares, away they trudge like tinckers, 
 with a budget at one of their backes, or it may 
 be the circle they meane to conjure in shall not 
 be out of London, especially if it be Tearme- 
 time, or when a Parliament is holden (for then 
 they have choise of sweete-meats to feed uppon.) 
 If a gentleman seeing one of these bookes Dedi- 
 cated onely to his name, suspect it to be a 
 bastard, that hath more fathers besides himselfe, 
 and to try that, does deferre the Presenter for a 
 day or two, sending in the meane time (as some 
 have done) into Paules Church-yard amongst 
 the stationers, to inquire if any such worke be 
 come forth, and \i the^ cannot tell, then to steppe
 
 224 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Swind- to the Printers : Yet have the Falconers a tricke 
 
 ling dedi- j-q gQg beyond such Hawkes too, for all they 
 
 cations ^y^ g^ j^j^_ p^^^ ^y^^^ jg ^^.g . rpj^^ bookes lye 
 
 all at the Printers, but not one line of an epistle 
 to any of them (those bug-bears lurke in Jene- 
 bris) : if then the Spy that is sent by his Maister, 
 ask why they have no dedications to them, 
 Mounsier Printer tels him, the author would 
 not venture to adde any to them all, (saving 
 onely to that which was given to his Maister,) 
 untill it was knowne whether he could accept of 
 it or no. 
 
 This satisfies the Patron, this fetches money 
 from him : and this Cozens five hundred besides. 
 Nay there bee othere Bird catchers that use 
 stranger Quaile-pipes : you shal have fellowes, 
 foure or five in a contry, that buying up any old 
 Booke (especially a Sermon, or any other 
 matter of Divinity) that lies for wast paper, and 
 is clean forgotten, and a new-printed Epistle to 
 it, and with an Alphabet of letters which they 
 cary about them, being able to / print any mans 
 names (for a Dedication) on the suddaine, 
 travaile up and downe moste Shires in England, 
 and live by this Hawking. 
 
 Are we not excellent Falconers now ? 
 (quoth three half shares) : excellent villaines 
 cryed the devils Deputy : by this the meate 
 for dinner came smoaking in, upon which they 
 fell most tirannically, yet (for maners sake) 
 offring first, to the Balif of Beelzebub the upper 
 end of the table ; but he fearing they would 
 make a Hauhe or a Buzzard of him too, and 
 report they had ridden him like an i\sse, as
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 225 
 
 they had done others, out a doores hee flung Prostitu- 
 with a vengeance as he came. tion of 
 
 O sacred Learning ! why doost thou suffer ^^^^"^"S 
 thy seaven leaved tree, to be plucked by 
 barbarous and most unhallowed handes ? Why 
 is thy beatifull Maiden-body, polluted like a 
 strumpets, and prostituted to beastly and slavish 
 Ignorance ? O thou Base-hroode^ that make the 
 Muses harlots, yet say they are your Mothers ? 
 You Theeves of Wit^ Cheators of Arte, traitors 
 of schooles of Learning : murderers of Schollers, 
 More worthy you are, to undergoe the Romane 
 Furca like slaves, and to be branded in the fore- 
 head deeper then they that forge testaments to 
 undoe Orphans : Such doe but rob children of 
 goods that may be lost : but you rob Schollers 
 of their Fame, which is deerer then life. You 
 are not worth an Invective, not worthy to have 
 your names dropp out of a deserving pen, you 
 shall onely bee executed in Picture : (as they 
 use to handle Malefactors in France,) and the 
 picture (though it were drawne to be hung up in 
 another place) shal leave yoa impudently-arrogant 
 to your selves, and ignominiously-ridiculous to 
 after ages : in these collours, are you drawne. 
 
 The true picture of these Falconers. 
 
 There be Fe Howes 
 
 Of course and common hloaud ; Mechan'ick 
 
 knaves y 
 Whose wits lye deeper buried then in graves^ 
 And indeede smell more earthy ; whose ambition
 
 226 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 "f®^ ^^^^ I ^^^ ^^ S^^'^ ^ Boote or Shoe good fashion. 
 
 tions a^e "^^^ ^^^^^ (throwing by the Apron and the Awle) 
 
 worked ^^ii^g drunk with their own zvit, cast up their 
 
 gall^ 
 Onely ofinke: and in patched, beggeriy Rimes, 
 (As full of fowle corruption, as the Times) 
 From towne to tozone they strowle in soule, as 
 
 poore 
 As th^ are in clothes : yet these at every doore. 
 Their labors Dedicate. But (as at F aires) 
 Like Pedlars, they shew still one sort of wares 
 Unto all commers (with some fide oration) 
 And thus to give bookes, now' s an occupation. 
 One booke hath seaven score patrons : thus 
 
 desart 
 Is cheated of her due : thus noble art 
 Gives Ignorance (that common strumpet) place. 
 Thus the true schollers name growes cheap and 
 
 base, l5 c. 
 
 Jacks of the Clocke-house. 
 
 A miv and cunning drawing of money from 
 Gentlemen. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 There is another Fraternitie of wandring 
 Pilgrims who merrily call themselves Jackes oj 
 the Clocke-house, and are verry neere allied to 
 the Falconers that went a Hawking before. 
 The Clerk of Erebus set downe their names
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 227 
 
 too in his Tables, with certain breefe notes of Do noth- 
 their practises : and these they are. ing: but 
 
 The Jacke of a Clocke-house goes uppon ^ " ^ 
 Screws, and his office is to do nothing but 
 strike : so does this noise, (for they walke up 
 and downe like Fidlers) travaile with Motions ; 
 and whatsoever their Motions get them, is 
 called striking. 
 
 Those Motions are certaine Collections^ or 
 wittie Inventions, some times of one thing, and 
 then of an other (there is a new one now in 
 rime, in praise of the Union). And these are 
 fairely written and engrossed in Vellum, 
 Parchment, or Royall paper, richly adorned 
 with / compartments, and set out with letters 
 both in gold and in various coullours. 
 
 This labour being taken, the Maister of the 
 Motion hearkens where such a Nobleman, such 
 a Lord, or such a Knight lyes, that is liberall : 
 having found one to his liking. The Motion 
 (with his Patrons name fairely texted out, in 
 manner of a Dedication,) is presented before 
 him : he receives it, and thinking it to be a 
 work onely undertaken for his sake, is bounteous 
 to the giver, esteeming him a Scholler, and 
 knowing that not without great travaile, hee 
 hath drawne so many little stragling streames 
 into so faire and smoothe a River : whereas the 
 Worke is the labour of some other (copied out 
 by stealth), he an impudent ignorant fellow, 
 that runnes up and downe with the Transcripts ; 
 and every Ale-house may have one of them 
 (hanging in the basest drinking roome) if they 
 will bee but at the charges of writing it out.
 
 228 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 How inn- Thus the liberallitie of a Nobleman, or of a 
 
 keepers Qentleman is abused : thus learning is brought 
 
 masters ^^^^ scorne and contempt : Thus men are 
 
 are cheated of their bountie, giving much for that 
 
 abused (out of their free mindes) which is common 
 
 abroad, and put away for base prices. Thus 
 
 villanie sometimes walkes alone, as if it were 
 
 given to Melancholly, and some-times knaves 
 
 tie themselves in a knot, because thev may be 
 
 more merry, as by a mad sort of Comrades 
 
 whome I see leaping into the Saddle, anon it 
 
 will apeare. 
 
 Rank-Riders. 
 
 The manner of Cozening Inn-keeper s^ 
 Post-maisters and Hackney-men. 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 There is a troope of Horsemen, that runne 
 up and downe the whole kingdome : they are 
 ever in a gallop, their businesse is weightie, 
 their journies many, their / expences greate, 
 their Innes everie where, their lands no where : 
 they have onely a certaine Free-holde cald 
 Tyburne (situate neere London, and many a 
 faire paire of Gallowes in other Countries 
 besides,) uppon which they live verie poorely till 
 they dye, and dye for the moste part wickedly, 
 because their lives are villanous and desperate. 
 But what race so ever they runne, there they
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 229 
 
 end it, there they set up their rest, there is their The 
 last hake, whether soever their journey lyes, company 
 And these horsemen have no other names but ^}^^^^' 
 Rank- Riders. 
 
 To furnish whome foorth for any journey, 
 they must have Riding sutes cut out of these 
 foure peeces. 
 
 1. The Inne-kceper or Hackney-man, of 
 whome they have horses, is cald A Co/t. 
 
 2. He that never alights ofFa rich Farmer or 
 country Gentleman, till he have drawne money 
 from him, is called T6e Snaffle. 
 
 3. The m.oney so gotten, is The Ring. 
 
 4. He that feedes them with money is called 
 The provander. 
 
 These Rank- Riders (like Butchers to Rumford 
 Market) sildome goe under sixe or seaven in a 
 company, and these Careeres they fetch. 
 Their pursses being warmly lined with some 
 purchase gotten before, and they themselves well 
 booted and spur'd, and in reasonable good 
 outsides, arrive at the fairest Inne they can 
 choose, either in Westminster, the Strand, the 
 Cittie, or the Suburbes. 
 
 Two of them who have cloathes of purpose 
 to fitte the play, carrying the shew of Gentle- 
 men : the other act their partes in blew coates, 
 as they were their Servingmen, though indeede 
 they be all fellowes. They enter all durted or 
 dustied (according as it shall please the high 
 way to use them) and the first bridle they put 
 into the Colts mouth (thats to say the Inkeepers) 
 is at their comming in to aske alowde if the 
 footeman be gone backe with the horses ? tis
 
 230 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Their answered yes. Heere, the Ranck-riders lye 
 initial pro- t^j-ge or foure daies, spending moderately enough, 
 * yet abating / not a penny of any reckoning to 
 shew of what house they come : in which space 
 their counterfeit followers learne what country- 
 man the maister of the house is, where the 
 Hostlars and Chamberlaines were borne, and 
 what other countrie Gentlemen are guests to the 
 Inne ? which lessons being presently gotten by 
 heart, they fal in studdy with the Generall rules 
 of their knaverie : and those are, first to give 
 out, that their Maister is a Gentleman of such 
 and such meanes, in such a shire (which shall be 
 sure to stand farre enough from those places 
 where any of the house, or of other guests were 
 borne,) that bee is come to receive so many 
 hundred poundes uppon land which he hath 
 solde, and that bee meanes to Inne there some 
 quarter of a yeare at least. 
 
 This Brasse money passing for currant through 
 the house, hee is more observed and better 
 attended, is worshipped at everie word : and the 
 easier to breake and bridle the Colt^ his Worship 
 will not sit downe to Dinner or supper, till the 
 Maister of the house be placed at the upper end 
 of the boord by him. 
 
 In the middle of Supper, or else verie earely 
 in the following morning, comes in a counterfeit 
 footeman, sweatingly, delivering a message that 
 such a Knight hath sent for the head-Maister of 
 these Rank-ryders, and that hee must bee 
 with him by such an houre, the journey being 
 not above twelve or foureteene miles. Upon 
 deliveiie of this message, (from so deere and
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 231 
 
 noble a friend) he sweares and chafes, because The 
 all his horses are out of Towne, curseth the second 
 sending of them backe, offers any money to have ^^^P 
 have himselfe, his couzen with him, and his men 
 but reasonably horst. Mine host being a 
 credulous Asse, suffers them all to get uppe 
 upon him, for hee provides them horses either 
 of his owne (thinking his Guest to be a man of 
 great accompte, and beeing loath to loose him, 
 because hee spends well) or else sendes out to 
 hire them of his neighbours, passing his word 
 for their forthcomming / with in a day or two. 
 Up they get and away Gallop our Rank-riders, 
 as far as the poore Jades can carry them. 
 
 The two daies being ambled out of the 
 worlde, and perhaps three more after them, yet 
 neither a supply of Horse-men or Foote-men, 
 (as was promised) to be set eye uppon. The 
 lamentable In-keeper (or Hackney man, if he 
 chance to be Sadled for this journey too) loose 
 their Colts teeth, and finde that they are made 
 olde arrant Jades : Search, then runnes up and 
 downe like a Constable halfe out of his wittes 
 (uppon a Shrove-tuesday) and hue and cry 
 followes after, some twelve or foureteene miles 
 off, (round about London) ; which was the 
 farthest of their journey as they gave out. But 
 (alas !) the horses are at pasture foure score or 
 a hundred miles from their olde mangers : they 
 were sould at some blinde drunken theevish faire, 
 (there beeing enow of them in company to save 
 themselves, by their Toll-booke,) the Serving- 
 men cast off their blew coates, and cried All 
 fellowes : the money is spent upon wine, upon
 
 232 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 How the whores, upon fidlers, upon fooles (by whom they 
 proceeds wil loose nothing) and the tyde beeing at an 
 ^^^^ ebbe, they are as ready to practise their skill in 
 horse-manship to bring Cokes to the saddle in 
 that Towne, and to make Nags run a race of 
 three-score or a hundred miles of from that 
 place, as before they did from London. 
 
 Running at the Ring, 
 
 Thus, so long as Horseflesh can make them 
 fat, they never leave feeding. But when they 
 have beaten so many high-waies in severall 
 countries, that they feare to be over taken by 
 Tracers^ then (like Soldiers comming from a 
 Breach) they march faire and softly on foot, lying 
 in garrison as it were, close in some out townes, 
 til the foule Rumor of their Villanies (like a 
 stormy durty winter) be blown over : In which 
 time of lurking in that shel, they are not idle 
 neither, but like snailes they venture abroad tho 
 the / law hath threatned to rain downe never so 
 much punishment upon them: and what do they ? 
 they are not bees, to live by their owne painiull 
 labors, but Drones that must eat up the sweet- 
 nesse, and be fedde with the earnings of others : 
 This therefore is their worke. They carelesly 
 inquire what gentleman of worth, or what rich 
 Farmers dwell within five, six or seaven miles 
 of the Fort where they are insconc'd (which 
 they may do without suspition) and having gotte 
 their names, they single out themselves in a 
 morning, and each man takes a severall path to 
 himselfe : one goes East, one JVest^ one North,
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 233 
 
 and the other South : walking either in bootes Strollers 
 with wandes in their handes, or other wise, for 
 it is all to one purpose. And note this by the 
 way, that when they travell thus on foot, they 
 are no more call'd Rank-riders hnX. Strozvlers ; 
 a proper name given to Country platers, that 
 (without Socks) trotte from towne to towne upon 
 the hard hoofe. 
 
 Being arriv'd at the Gate where the Gentleman 
 or Farmer dwelleth, he boldly knocks, inquiring 
 for him by name, and steppes in to speake with 
 him : the servant seeing a fashionable person, 
 tells his Maister there is a Gentleman desires to 
 speake with him : the maister comes and salutes 
 him, but eying him well, saies he does not know 
 him : No Sir, replies the other (with a face 
 bolde ynough) it may be so, but I pray you. Sir, 
 will you walke a turne or two in your Orchard 
 or Garden, I would there conferre : Having got 
 him thether, to this tune he plaies uppon him. 
 
 How the snaffle is put on. 
 
 Sir, I am a Gentleman, borne to better meanes 
 then my present fortunes doe allow me : I 
 served in the field, and had commaunde there, 
 but long peace (you knowe Sir) is the Cancker 
 that eates up Souldiers, and so it hath mee. I 
 lie heere not far oif, in the Country at mine 
 Inne, where staying uppon the dispatch / of 
 some businesse, I am indebted to the house in 
 moneys, so that I cannot with the credit of a 
 Gentleman leave the house till I have paide 
 them. Make mee, sir, so much beholden to your
 
 234 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Obtain- love as to lend me fortye or fiftie shilings to 
 
 ^"S beare my horse and my selfe to London ; from 
 
 on false whence within a day or two, I shall send you 
 
 pretences many thanks with a faithful repayment of your 
 
 curtesie. 
 
 The honest Gentleman, or the good natur'd 
 Farmer beholding a personable man, fashionably 
 attir'd, and not carrying in outward coullors, the 
 face of a cogging knave, gives credit to his words, 
 is sorry that they are not at this present time so 
 well furnished as they could wish, but if a matter 
 of twenty shillings can stead him, he shall com- 
 maund it, because it were pittie any honest 
 Gentleman should for so small a matter miscarry. 
 Happilye they meete with some Chap-men that 
 give them their owne asking ; but howsoever, 
 all is fish that comes to net ; they are the most 
 conscionable market folkes that ever rode be- 
 tweene two paniers, for from fortie they will fall 
 to twentie, from twenty to ten, from ten to five: 
 nay these mountibanckes are so base, that they 
 are not ashamed to take two shillings of a plaine 
 husbandman, and sometimes sixe pence (which 
 the other gives simply and honestly) of whome 
 they demaunded a whole fifteene. 
 
 In this manner doe they digge silver out of 
 mens purses, all the day, and at night meet to- 
 gether at the appointed Rendevoux ; where all 
 these Snaffles are loosed to their full length, the 
 Ringes which that day they have made are 
 worne. The Provender is praised or dispraised, 
 as they finde it in goodnesse, but it goes downe 
 all, whilst they laugh at all. 
 
 And thus does a Common-wealth bring up
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 235 
 
 children, that care not how they discredit her, The end 
 or undoe her : who would imagine that Birdes of the 
 so faire in shewe, and so sweete in voice, should ^^ 
 be so dangerous in condition ? but Ravens thinke 
 carryon the daintiest meate, and villains / 
 esteeme most of that money which is purchast 
 by basenes. 
 
 The Under SherifFe for the county of the 
 Cacodemons, knowing into what arrearages these 
 Rank-riders were runne for horse-flesh to his 
 maister, (of whome he farmed the office) sent 
 out his writs to attach them, and so narrowly 
 pursued them, that for all they were wel horst, 
 some he sent post to the gallowes, and the rest 
 to severall jayles : After which, making all the 
 hast he posibly could to get to London againe, 
 he was way-layd by an army of a strange and new 
 found people. 
 
 Moonmen. 
 
 A discovery of a strange wild people^ very 
 dangerous to townes and country villages. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A Moonman signifies in English, a mad-man, 
 because the Moone hath greatest domination 
 (above any other Planet) over the bodies of 
 Frantick persons. But these Moon-men (whose 
 Images are now to be carved) are neither ab- 
 solutely mad, not yet perfectly in their wits.
 
 236 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 How Their name they borrow from the Moon, be- 
 
 moon- (,^^gg 2g ^.^jg Moon is never in one shape two 
 
 their nights together, but wanders up and downe 
 
 name Heaven, like an Anticke, so these changeable- 
 
 stufFe-companions never tary one day in a place, 
 
 but are the onely, and the onely base Ronnagats 
 
 upon earth. And as in the Moon there is a 
 
 man, that never stirres without a bush of thornes 
 
 at his backe, so these Moon-men lie under bushes, 
 
 and are indeed no better then Hedge creepers. 
 
 They are a people more scattred then Jewes, 
 and more hated : beggerly in apparell, barbarous 
 in condition, beastly in behavior : and bloudy 
 if they meete advantage. A man that sees them 
 would sweare they had all the yellow jawndis, 
 or that they were Tawny Moores bastardes, for 
 no Red-oaker man caries a face of a more filthy 
 / complexion ; yet are they not borne so, 
 neither has the Sunne burnt them so, but they 
 are painted so : yet they are not good painters 
 neither, for they do not make faces, but marre 
 faces. By a by-name they are called Gipsies, 
 they call themselves Egiptians, others in mockery 
 call them Moon-men. 
 
 If they be Egiptians, sure I am they never 
 discended from the tribes of any of those people 
 that came out of the land of Egypt : Ptolomy 
 (King of the Egiptians) I warrant never called 
 them his Subjects : no nor Pharaoh before him. 
 Looke what difference there is betwcene a civell 
 cittizen of Dunlin and a wilde Irish Kerne, so 
 much difference there is betweene one of these 
 counterfeit Egiptians and a true English Begger. 
 An English Roague is just of the same livery.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 237 
 
 They are commonly an army about foure- How they 
 score strong, yet they never march with all their travel 
 bagges and baggages together, but (like boot- 
 halers) they forrage up and downe countries, 4. 
 5. or 6. in a company. As the Swizer has his 
 wench and his Cocke with him when he goes to 
 the warres, so these vagabonds have their harlots, 
 with a number of litle children following at their 
 heeles : which young brood of Beggers, are 
 sometimes cartied (like so many greene geese 
 alive to a market) in payres of panieres, or in 
 dossers like fresh-fish from Rye that comes on 
 horsebacke, (if they be but infants.) But if 
 they can stradle once, then aswell the shee- 
 roagues as the hee-roagues are horst, seaven or 
 eight upon one jade, strongly pineond, and 
 strangely tyed together. 
 
 One Shire alone and no more is sure stil at one 
 time, to have these Egiptian lice swarming 
 within it, for like flockes of wild-geese, they 
 will evermore fly one after another : let them be 
 scattred worse then the quarters of a traitor are 
 after hees hang'd drawne and quartred, yet they 
 have a tricke (like water cut with a swoord) to 
 come together instantly and easily againe : and 
 this is their pollicy, which way soever the 
 formost rauckes lead, they / sticke up small 
 boughes in severall places, to every village 
 where they passe ; which serve as ensignes to 
 waft on the rest. 
 
 Their apparell is odd, and phantasticke, tho it 
 be never so full of rents : the men weare scarfes 
 of Callico, or any other base stuife, hanging their 
 bodies like Morris-dancers, with bels, and other
 
 238 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Gipsy toyes, to intice the countrey people to flocke about 
 women them, and to wounder at their fooleries or rather 
 rancke knaveryes. The women as ridiculously 
 attire themselves, and (like one that plaies the 
 Roague on a stage) weare rags, and patched 
 filthy mantles upermost, when the under garments 
 are hansome and in fashion. 
 
 The battailes these Out-Iawes make, are many 
 and very bloudy. Whosoever falles into their 
 hands never escapes alive, and so cruell they are 
 in these murders, that nothing can satisfie them 
 but the very heart-bloud of those whom they 
 kill. And who are they (thinke you) that thus 
 go to the pot ? Alas ! Innocent Lambs, 
 Sheep, Calves, Pigges, &c. Poultrie-ware are 
 more churlishly handled by them, then poore 
 prisoners are by keepers in the counter i'the 
 Poultry. A goose comming amongst them 
 learnes to be wise, that hee never wil be Goose 
 any more. The bloudy tragedies of al these, 
 are only acted by the Women, who carrying long 
 knives or Skeanes under their mantles, do thus 
 play their parts : The stage is some large Heath : 
 or a Firre bush Common, far from any houses : 
 Upon which casting them-selves into a Ring, 
 they inclose the Murdered, till the Massacre be 
 finished. If any passenger come by, and 
 wondring to see such a conjuring circle kept by 
 Hel-houndes, demaund what spirits they raise 
 there : one of the Murderers steps to him, 
 poysons him with sweete wordes and shifts hiro 
 off, with this lye, that one of the women is falne 
 in labour. But if any mad Hamlet hearing this, 
 smell villanie, and rush in by violence to
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 239 
 
 see what the tawny Divels are dooing, then Gipsy 
 they excuse the fact, lay the blame on those lodgings 
 that are the Actors, and perhaps (if they see 
 / no remedie) deliver them to an officer, to be 
 had to punishment : But by the way a rescue 
 is surely laid ; and very valiantly (tho very 
 villanously) do they fetch them off, and guard 
 them. 
 
 The Cabbines where these Land-pyrates lodge 
 in the night, are the Out-barnes of Farmers and 
 Husbandmen, (in some poore Village or other) 
 who dare not deny them, for fear they should 
 ere morning have their thatched houses burning 
 about their eares ; in these Barnes, are both their 
 Cooke-roomes, their Supping Parlors, and their 
 Bed-chambers : for there they dresse after a 
 beastly manner, what soever they purchast after 
 a theevish fashion : sometimes they eate Venison, 
 and have Greyhoundes that kill it for them, but if 
 they had not, they are Houndes them-selves and 
 are damnable Hu?iters2.hQY: flesh : Which appeares 
 by their ugly-fac'd queanes that follow them : 
 with whom in these barnes they lie, as Swine do 
 together in Hogsties. 
 
 These Barnes are the beds of Incests, Whore- 
 domes, Adulteries, and of all other blacke and 
 deadly-damned Impieties ; here growesthe cursed 
 Tree of Bast ar die ^ that is so fruitfull : here are 
 written the Bookes of al Blasphemies, Szveari?igs 
 and Curses, that are so dreadful 1 to be read. That 
 the simple country-people will come running out of 
 their houses to gaze upon them, whilst in the 
 meane time one steales into the next Roome, and 
 brings away whatsoever hee can lay hold on.
 
 240 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Gipsy Upon dales of pastime and libeitie, they Spred 
 triCKS them-selves in smal companies amongst the 
 Villages : and when young maids and batchelers 
 (yea sometimes old doting fooles, that should be 
 beaten to this world of villanies, and forewarn 
 others) do flock about them : they then professe 
 skil in Palmestry, and (forsooth) can tel fortunes : 
 which for the most part are infallibly true, by 
 reason that they worke uppon rules, which are 
 grounded upon certainty : for one of them wil 
 tel you that you shal shortly have some evill 
 luck fal upon you, and within halfe an houre after 
 you shal find your pocket pick'd, or your purse 
 / cut. These are those Egiptian Grashoppers 
 that eate up the fruites of the Earth, and destroy 
 the poore corne fieldes : to sweepe whose swarmes 
 out of this kingdome, there are no other means 
 but the sharpnes of the most infamous and basest 
 kinds of punishment. For if the ugly body of 
 this Monster be suffred to grow and fatten it selfe 
 with mischiefs and disorder, it will have a neck 
 so Sinewy and so brawny, that the arm of the law 
 will have much ado to strike of the Head, sithence 
 every day the members of it increase, and it gather 
 new joints and new forces by P riggers. Anglers y 
 Cheat ors., Morts, Yeomens Daughters (that have 
 taken some by blowes, and to avoid shame, fall 
 into their Sinnes:) and other Servants both men 
 and maides that have bcene pilferers, with si the 
 rest of that Damned Regiment, marching together 
 in the first Army of the Bell-man, who running 
 away from theyr own Coulours (which are bad 
 ynough) serve under these, being the worst. 
 Lucifers Lansprizado that stood aloof to behold
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 241 
 
 the mustrings of these Hell-hounds, took delight The 
 to see them Double their Fyles so nimbly, but "ends 
 held it no pollicy to come neere them (for the gender in 
 Divell him-selfe durst scarce have done that. ) the city 
 Away therefore hee gallops, knowing that at 
 one time or other they would all come to fetch 
 their pay in Hell, 
 
 The Infection. 
 
 Of the Suburbs. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Infernall Promoter beeing wearied with 
 riding up and downe the Country, was glad when 
 he had gotten the Citty over his head, but the 
 Citty being not able to hold him within the 
 freedome, because he was a Forreiner, the gates 
 were sette wide open for him to passe through, 
 and into the Suburbes hee went. And what saw 
 hee there? More Ale-houses than there are 
 Tavernes in all Spayne and France. Are they so 
 dry in the Suburbs ? Yes, pockily dry. What 
 saw he besides ? 
 
 Hee / saw the dores of notorious Carted 
 Bawdes, (like Hell-gates) stand night and day 
 wide open, with a paire of Harlots in Taffata 
 gownes (like two painted posts) garnishing out 
 those dores, beeing better to the house then a 
 Double signe : when the dore of a poore Artificer 
 (if his child had died but with one Token of death 
 about him) was close ram'd up and Guarded for 
 Q
 
 242 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The evils feare others should have beene infected : Yet the 
 ^ !^^ plague that a Whore-house layes upon a Citty is 
 worse, yet is laughed at : if not laughed at, yet 
 not look'd into, or if look'd into, W'lncked at. 
 
 The Tradesman having his house lockd up, 
 looseth his customers, is put from worke and 
 undone ; whilst in the meane time the strumpet 
 is set on worke and maintain'd (perhaps) by 
 those that undoe the other : give thankes O 
 wide mouth'd Hell ! laugh Lucifer at this. 
 Dance for joy all you Divells. 
 
 Belxebub keepes the Register booke, of al ye 
 Bawdes, Panders and Curtizans : and hee knowes, 
 that these Suburb sinners have no landes to live 
 upon but their legges : every prentice passing by 
 them, can say. There sits a zvhore : Without 
 putting them to their booke they will sweare so 
 much themselves : if so, are not Counstables, 
 Churchwardens, Bayliffes, Beadels and other 
 OiHcers, Pillars and Pillowes to all the villanies, 
 that are by these committed ? Are they not 
 parcell-Bawdes to winck at such damned abuses, 
 considering they have whippes in their owne 
 handes, and may draw bloud if they please ? Is 
 not the Land-lord of such rentes the Graund- 
 Bawde ? and the Dore Keeping mistresse of such 
 a house of sinne, but his Under-Bawd ? sithence 
 hee takes twenty pounds rent every yeare, for a 
 vaulting schoole (which from no Artificer living 
 by the hardnesse of the hand could bee worth five 
 pound.) And that twenty pound rent, hee 
 knowes must bee prest out of petticoates : his 
 money smells of sin : the very silver lookes pale, 
 because it was earned by lust.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 243 
 
 How happy therefore were Citties if they had The 
 no Suburbes, sithence they serve but as caves, ^^^"^"^8^ 
 where monsters are / bred up to devo wre the Citties 3^^ 
 them-selves i Would the Divell hire a villaine 
 to spil bloud ? there he shall linde him. One 
 to blaspheme ? there he hath choice. A Pandar 
 that would court a matron at her praiers ? hes 
 there. A cheator that would turne his owne 
 father a begging ? He's there too : A harlot 
 that would murder her new-borne Infant ? 
 Shee lies in there. 
 
 What a wretched wombe hath a strumpet, 
 which being (for the most) barren of Children, 
 is notwithstanding the onely Bedde that breedes 
 up these serpents ? upon that one stalke grow all 
 these mischiefes. Shee is the Cockatrice that 
 hatcheth all these egges of evills. When the 
 Divell takes the Anatomy of all damnable 
 sinnes, he lookes onely upon her body. When 
 she dies, he sits as her Coroner. When her 
 soule comes to hell, all shunne that there, as 
 they flie from a body struck with the plague 
 here. She hath her dore-keeper, ^xAske herselfe 
 is the Divells chamber-maide. And yet for all 
 this, that shee's so dangerous and detestable, 
 when she hath croak'd like a Raven on the Eves, 
 then comes she into the house like a Dove. 
 When her villanies (like the mote about a 
 castle) are rancke, thicke, and muddy, with 
 standing long together, then (to purge her- 
 self) is she dreined out of the Suburbes (as 
 though her corruption were there left behind 
 her) and as a cleere streame is let into the 
 Citty.
 
 244 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The What armor a harlot iveares comm'tng out of the 
 
 poison Suburbes to bes'ieg-e the Citty within the wals. 
 brought ^ -^ 
 
 city Upon what perch then does she sit ? what 
 part plaies she then ? onely the Puritane. If 
 before she ruffled in silkes, now is she more 
 civilly attird then a Mid-wife. If before she 
 swaggred in Tavernes, now with the Snaile she 
 stirreth not out of dores. And where must her 
 lodging be taken up, but in the house of some 
 cittizen, whose known reputation, she borrowes 
 (or rather steales) putting it on as a cloake to 
 cover her deformities ? Yet even in that, hath 
 she an art too, for he shalbe of such a profession, 
 that all commers / may enter, without the danger 
 of any eyes to watch them. As for example 
 she wil lie in some Scriveners house^ and so under 
 the collour of comming to have a Bond made, 
 she herself may write Noverint unwersi. And 
 tho the law threaten to hit her never so often, 
 yet hath she subtile defences to ward off the 
 blowes. For, if Gallants haunt the house, then 
 spreds she these collours ; she is a captaine or a 
 lieutenants wife in the Lonv-countries^ and they 
 come with letters, from the souldier her husband. 
 If Marchants resort to her, then hoistes she up 
 these say Its, she is wife to the Maister of a shippe, 
 and they bring newes that her husband put in 
 at the Straytes, or at Venice, at Aleppo, 
 Alexandria, or Scanderoon, &c. If shop keepers 
 come to her, with 'what do you lack, in their 
 mouthes, then she takes up such and such 
 commodities, to send them to Rye, to Bristow, 
 to Yorke, &c. where her husband dwells. But
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 245 
 
 if the streame of her fortunes runne low, and that How a 
 none but Apronmen lanch forth there then woman 
 keepes she a poUitick tempsters shop, or she ^^^^"^^ 
 starches them. constable 
 
 Perhaps shee is so pollitick, that none shalbe 
 noted to board her : if so, then she sailes upon 
 these points of the compasse : so soone as ever 
 she is rig'd, and al her furniture on, forth she 
 lancheth into those streetes that are most fre- 
 quented : where the first man that she meetes of 
 her acquaintance, shal (without much pulling) 
 get her into a Taverne : out of him she kisses a 
 breakefast and then leaves him : the next she 
 meetes, does upon as easie pullies, draw her to 
 a Taverne againe ; out of him she cogs a dinner, 
 and then leaves him : the third man, squires her 
 to a play, which being ended, and the wine offred 
 and taken (for she's no Recusant, to refuse any 
 thing) him she leaves too : and being set upon 
 by a fourth, him she answers at his own weapon, 
 sups with him, and drincks Upsie Freeze, til the 
 clok striking Twelve, and the Drawers being 
 drowzy, away they march arme in arme, being 
 at every footstep fearful to be set upon by the 
 Band of Halberdiers, that lie scowling in rug 
 gownes to cut of such mid-night straglers. But 
 the word / being given, and ivho goes there, with 
 come before the Constable, being shot at them, 
 they vaile presently and come, she taking upon 
 her to answer al the Bil-men and their Leader, 
 betweene whome and her, suppose you heare this 
 sleepy Dialogue : where have you bin so late ? 
 at supper forsooth with my uncle here {if he be 
 wel bearded) or with my brother {if the haire bee
 
 246 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 London's l;ut budding forth) and he is bringing me home. 
 external ^j.^ ^q^ married ? yes forsooth : whats your 
 g^jj^ husband ? such a Noble-mans man, or such a 
 internal "Justices clarke, (And then name some Alderman 
 iniquity of London, to whome she pers wades herselfe, 
 one or other of the bench of browne billes are 
 beholding) where lye you ? At such a mans 
 house : Sic tenues evanescit in Auras : and thus 
 by stopping the Constables mouth with sugar- 
 plummes (thats to say,) whilst she poisons him 
 with sweete wordes, the punck vanisheth. O 
 Lanthorne and Candle-light^ how art thou made 
 a blinde Asse ? because thou hast but one eye to 
 see withall : Be not so guld, bee not so dull in 
 understanding : do thou but follow aloofe those 
 two tame Pigeons, and thou shalt finde that her 
 new Uncle lies by it al that night, to make his 
 kinse- woman one of mine Aunts : or if she bee 
 not in travel! all night, they spend some halfe an 
 houre together : but what doe they ? marry, 
 they doe that, which the Constable should have 
 done for them both in the streetes, thats to say 
 commit, commit. 
 
 You Guardians over so great a Princesse as 
 the eldest daughter of King Brutus : you twice 
 twelve fathers and governours over the Noblest 
 Cittie, why are you so careful to plant Trees 
 to beautifie your outward walks, yet suffer the 
 goodliest garden (within) to be over-run with 
 stincking wcedes ? You are the proining knives 
 that should loppe off such idle, such unprofitable 
 and such destroying branches from the Vine : 
 The beames of your Authoritie should purge the 
 ayre of such infection : your breath of Justice
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 247 
 
 should scatter those foggy vapors, and drive The 
 
 them out of your gates as chaffe tossed abroad practices 
 
 by the windes. o^ ^o''^^- 
 
 Ti . I . • II • • . coursers 
 
 ISut / stay : is our walking spirit become an 
 
 Orator to perswade ? no, but the Bel-man of 
 
 London with whom he met in his perambulation 
 
 of his, and to whom hce betraied himselfe and 
 
 opened his very bosome, (As hereafter you shall 
 
 heare,) is bould to take upon him that speakers 
 
 Office. 
 
 Of Ginglers. 
 
 Or the knavery of Horse-Coursers in 
 Smith-field discovered. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 At the end of fierce battailes, the onely Ren- 
 devoux for lame souldiers to retire unto, is an 
 Hospitall : and at the end of a long Progresse, 
 the onely ground for a tyred Jade to runne in, 
 is some blind country faire, where he may be 
 sure to be sold. To these Markets of unwhole- 
 some Horse-flesh, (like so many Kites to feede 
 upon Carion) doe all the Horse-coursers (that 
 roost about the Citty) flie one after another. 
 And whereas in buying all other commodities, 
 men strive to have the best, how great so ever 
 the price be, onely the Horse-courser is of a 
 baser minde, for the woorst hors-flesh (so it be 
 cheape) does best goe downe with him. He 
 cares for nothing but a fayre out-side, and a
 
 248 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 How to hansome shape (like those that hyre whores, 
 discover though there be a hundred diseases within) : he 
 (as the other) ventures upon them all. 
 
 The first lesson, therefore, that a Horse- 
 courser takes out, when he comes to one of these 
 Markets, is to make choyce of such Nags, 
 Geldings, or Mares, especially, as are fatte, fayre, 
 and well-favor'd to the eye : and because men 
 delight to behold beautifull coullors, and that 
 some coulours are more delicate (even in beasts) 
 then others are, he will so neere as he can, 
 bargaine for those horses that have the daintiest 
 complexion : as the Milke-white, the Gray, the 
 Dapple-Gray, the Cole blacke with his proper 
 markes (as the white starre in the forehead, the 
 white / heele, &c.) or the bright Bay, with the 
 like proper markes also. And the goodlier pro- 
 portion ye beast carries or the fayrer markes or 
 coulour that hee beares, are or ought to bee 
 watch-words as it were to him that afterwards 
 buyes him of the horse-courser, that he bee not 
 cozend with an over-price for a bad peny- 
 worth : because such Horses (belonging for the 
 most part to Gentlemen) are seldome or never 
 sold away, but upon some foule quality, or 
 some incurable disease, which the Beast is falne 
 into. The Be^t coulours are therefore the best 
 Cloakes to hide those faults that most disfigure 
 a Horse : and next unto coulour, his Pace doth 
 often-times deceive and goe beyond a very quick 
 Judgement. 
 
 Some of these Horse-hunters^ are as nimble 
 Knaves in finding out the infirmities of a Jade, 
 as a Barber is in drawing of teeth : and albeit
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 249 
 
 (without casting his water) hee does more readily The 
 reckon up all the Aches, Crampes, Crickes, and honour of 
 whatsoever disease else lyes in his bones, and "orse- 
 r . J- 1 J- II u- courser 
 
 for those diseases seemes utterly to dislike him ; 
 
 yet if by looking upon the Dyall within his 
 mouth, he finde that his yeares have struck but 
 five, sixe, or seaven, and that he prooves but 
 young, or that his diseases are but newly grow- 
 ing upon him, if they be outward ; or have but 
 hayre and skin to hide them, if they bee 
 inward ; let him sweare never so damnably that 
 it is but a Jade, yet he will be sure to fasten 
 upon him. 
 
 So then, a Horse-courser to the Merchant^ 
 (that out of his sound judgement buyes the 
 fairest, the best-bred, and the noblest Horses, 
 selling them againe for breede or service, with 
 plainnesse and honesty,) is as the Cheatorto the 
 faire Gamester: hee is indeed a meere Jadish 
 Nonopolitaney and deales for none but tyred, 
 tainted, dull, and diseased horses. By which 
 meanes, if his picture bee drawne to the life, 
 you shall finde every Horse-courser for the most 
 part to bee in quality a coozener, by profession a 
 knave, by his cunning a Varlet, in fayres a 
 Hagling Chapman, in the Citty a Cogging 
 dissembler, and / in Smith-field a common 
 forsworne Villaine. Hee will sweare any thing, 
 but the faster hee sweares, the more danger tis 
 to beleeve him : In one forenoone, and in selling 
 a Jade not worth five Nobles, will hee forsweare 
 himselfe fifteene times, and that forswearing too 
 shall bee by Equivocation. As for example, if 
 an ignorant Chapman comming to beate the
 
 250 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 1 ^.^ price, say to the Horse-courser, your nagge is 
 ^ can^be ^^^^^ °^^^' — °^ ^^^^ many yeares olde, and 
 concealed reckon ten or twelve : hee claps his hand 
 presently on the buttocke of the beast, and 
 praies he may bee damb'd if the Horse be not 
 under five, meaning not that the horse is under 
 five yeares of age, but that he standes under five 
 of his fingers, when his hand is clap'd uppon 
 him. These Horse-coursers are called Jynglers^ 
 and these Jynglers having laide out their money 
 on a company of Jades at some drunken fayre, 
 up to London they drive them, and uppon the 
 Market day into Smithfield bravely come they 
 prauncing. But least their Jades should shew 
 too many horse trickes in Smith-field, before so 
 greate an Audience as commonly resort thither, 
 their maisters doe therefore Schoole them at 
 home after this manner. 
 
 H'j'W a Horse-courser workes upon a yade 
 
 in his own Stal'U\ to make him serviceable 
 
 for a cozening Race in S?nith-field. 
 
 The Glanders in a horse is so filthy a disease, 
 that he who is troubled with it, can never keep his 
 nose cleane : so that when such a foule-nosed 
 Jade happens to serve a Horse-courser, hee 
 hath more strange pils (then a Pothecarie 
 makes) for the purging of his head: he knowes 
 that a horse with such a qualitie, is but a beastly 
 companion to travell uppon the high way with 
 anye Gentleman. 
 
 Albeit therefore that the Glanders have
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 251 
 
 played with his Nose so long, that hee knowes How the 
 
 not how to mend himselfe, / but that the glanders 
 
 disease beeing suffered to runne uppon him ^^" ^^, , 
 , • . . ^^, , concealed 
 
 many yeares together, is grown mvmcible, yet 
 
 hath our Jingling Mountibanke Smithfield- 
 rider a tricke to cure him, live or sixe waies, and 
 this is one of them. 
 
 In the verie morning when hee is to bee 
 rifled away amongst the Gamesters in Smithfield, 
 before hee thrust his head out of his Maisters 
 Stable, the Horse-courser tickles his nose (not 
 with a Pipe of Tobacco) but with a good 
 quantitie of the best Neesing powder that can 
 bee gotten : which with a quil being blown up 
 into the Nostrills, to make it worke the better, 
 he stands poaking there up and downe with 
 two long feathers plucked from the wing of a 
 Goose, they beeing dipt in the juice of Garlick, 
 or in any strong oyle, and thrust up to the verie 
 top of his head, so farre as possibly they can 
 reach, to make the pore dumbe beast avoide the 
 filth from his nostrils ; which hee will doe in 
 great aboundance : this being done, he comes to 
 him with a new medicine for a sicke horse, and 
 mingling the juyce of Bruized Garlike, sharpe 
 biting Mustard, and strong Ale together, into 
 both the Nostrils (with a Home) is powred a 
 good quantitie of this filthy Broth ; which by 
 the hand being held in by stopping the nostrils 
 close together, at length with a little neezing 
 more, his nose will be cleaner then his Maisters 
 the Horse-courser, and the filth bee so Arti- 
 ficially stop'd that for eight or ten houres a Jade 
 will holde up his head with the prowdest
 
 252 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 How to Gelding that gallops scornefully by him, and 
 discover never have neede of wiping, 
 the trick m • • r o 
 
 This is one of the Comedies a Common 
 
 horse-courser playes by himsehe at home, but if 
 when hee comes to act the second part abroad, 
 you would disgrace him, and have him hissd at 
 for not playing the Knave well, then handle him 
 thus : If you suspect that the Nagge which he 
 would Jade you with, bee troubled with that or 
 any other such like disease, gripe him hard 
 about the wesand pipe, close toward the roofe 
 of the tongue, and holding him / there so long 
 and so forcibly, that he cough twice or thrice, 
 if then (after you let goe your holde) his chappes 
 begin to walke as if he were chewing downe a 
 Horse-loafe, shake hands with old Mounsier 
 Cavaliero Horse-Courser^ but clap no bargain 
 upon it, for his Jade is as full of infirmitie, as 
 the maister of Villanie. 
 
 Other Gambals that Horse-coursers practise 
 
 upon Foundred Horses, 
 
 olde Jades, i^c. 
 
 Smithfield is the stage upon which the Mounti- 
 hank English Horse-courser advancing his banner, 
 defies any disease that dares touch his Prancer : 
 Insomuch that if a horse be so olde, as that 
 foure legs can but carry him, yet shall he beare 
 the markes of an Nag not above sixe or seaven 
 yeares of age ; and that counterfeit badge of 
 youth, he weares thus : The Horse-courser with 
 a smal round yron made very hot, burnes two 
 black holes in the top of the two out- most teeth
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 253 
 
 of each side the out-side of the Horses mouth Pricking 
 
 upon the nether teeth, and so likewise of the teeth the mouth 
 
 of the upper chap, which stand opposite to ye 
 
 nether, the qualitie of which marks is to shew 
 
 that a horse is but yong : but if the jade be so 
 
 old that those teeth are dropt out of his head, 
 
 then is there a tricke still to be fumbling about 
 
 his olde chaps, and in that stroaking his chin, to 
 
 pricke his lips closely with a pin or a naile, till 
 
 they be so tender, that albeit he were a given 
 
 horse none could bee suffered to looke him in 
 
 the mouth (which is one of the best Calenders 
 
 to tell his age) but a reasonable sighted eie 
 
 (without helpe of spectacles) may easily discover 
 
 this Jugling, because it is grosse and common. 
 
 If now a Horse (having beene a fore Travailer) 
 happen by falling into a colde sweate to bee 
 Foundred, so that (as if hee were drunck or had 
 the staggers) hee can scarce stand on his legges, 
 then will his maister, before hee enter into the 
 lists of the field against all commers, put him 
 into a villanous chasing, by ryding him up and 
 downe / a quarter or halfe an houre, till his 
 limbes bee thoroughly heated ; and this hee 
 does, because so long as hee can discharge that 
 false fire, or that (being so collerickly hotte) 
 hee tramples onely uppon soft ground, a very 
 cunning Horseman shal hardly find where his 
 shoo wrings him, or that hee is Foundred. And 
 (to blinde the eyes of the Chapman) the Horse- 
 courser will bee ever tickling of him with his 
 wand, because hee may not by standing still like 
 an Asse, shew of what house hee comes. 
 
 If a Horse come into the fielde (like a lame
 
 254 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The halt- soldier) Halting, hee has not Crutches made for 
 ing horse hjm^ ^s the soldier hath, but because you shall 
 thinke the Horses shooemaker hath serv'd him 
 like a Jade, by not fitting his foote well, the 
 shooe shall bee taken off purposely from that 
 foote which halts, as though it had beene lost by 
 chance : And to prove this, witnesses shall 
 come in, if at least twenty or thirty damnable 
 oathes can be taken, that the want of the Shooe 
 is onely the cause of his Halting. But if a 
 Horse cannot be lustie at legges, by reason that 
 either his hoofes bee not good, or that there be 
 Splents, or any other Eyesore about the nether 
 Joynt, the Hors-courser uses him then as Cheat- 
 ing Sivaggerers handle Novices : what they 
 cannot winne by the Dyce, they will have by 
 Foule play : and in that fouie manner deales hee 
 with the poore horse, ryding him up and downe 
 in the thickest and the durtiest places, till that 
 durt, like a ruffled boote drawne uppon an ill- 
 favor'd gowtie legge, cover the Jades infirmitie 
 from the eyes of the Buyer. 
 
 Hoiv a Horse-courser makes a Jade that 
 
 has no stomachy to eate 
 
 Lamb'Pye. 
 
 Albeit Lamh-pie be good meat upon a table, yet 
 it is so offensive to a horses stomach, yt he had 
 rather be fed a moneth together with mustie 
 oates, than to taste it : Yet are not all Horses 
 bidden to his Lamb-pie- B reakefasts but / onely 
 such as . are dyeted with no other meate : and 
 those are Dull, Blockish, Sullen ; and heavie
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 255 
 
 footed Jades. When-soever therefore a Horse- Other 
 courser hath such a Dead commodities as a Lumpish t>rutal 
 slow Jade, that goes more heavily then a Cow "^^^^ 
 when shee trots, and that neither by a sharpe 
 bitte nor a tickling spurre he can put him out of 
 his lazie and dogged pace, what does hee with 
 him then ? Onelye he gives him Lamb-pie. 
 That is to say, every morning when the Horse- 
 courser comes into the Stable, he takes up a 
 tough round cudgell, and never leaves fencing 
 with his Quarter staffe at the poore Horses sides 
 and buttockes, till with blowes hee hath made 
 them so tender, that the verry shaking of a 
 bough will be able to make the horse ready to 
 runne out of his wittes. And to keep the horse 
 still in this mad mood, because he shall not for- 
 get his lesson, his maister will never come neer 
 him, but he will have a fling at him : If he doe 
 touch him, hee strikes him : if he speakes to 
 him, there is but a worde and a blow : if he doe 
 but looke upon him, the Horse flings and takes 
 on, as though he would breake through the 
 walles, or had bene a i/orj-^ bredde up in Bedlam 
 amongst mad-folkes. Having thus gotten this 
 hard lesson by heart, forth comes he into Smith- 
 field lo repeat it, where the Rider ^hdW no sooner 
 leap into the saddle but the Horse-courser giving 
 the Jade (that is halfe scarred out of his wits 
 already) three or foure good bangs, away flies 
 Bucephalus as if yong Alexander wer upon his 
 backe. No ground can holde him, no bridle 
 raine him in ; he gallops away as if the Devill 
 had hired him of some Hackney-man, and scuds 
 through thicke and thinne, as if crackers had
 
 256 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The hung at his heeles. If his taile play the wag, 
 
 horse- and happen to whiske up and downe (which is a 
 
 methods ^'8"^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ feates of Activitie like a 
 
 of trade Tumblers prentice by compulsion and without 
 
 taking pleasure in them) then shall you see the 
 
 Horse-courser laie about him like a thrasher, till 
 
 with blowes he made him carry his taile to his 
 
 Bottocks : which / in a Horse (contrary to the 
 
 nature of a Dog) is an argument that he hath 
 
 mettall in him and Spirrit, as in the other it is 
 
 the note of cowardise. 
 
 These and such other base juglings are put in 
 practise, by the Horse-courser ; in this maner 
 comes he arm'd into the field : with such bad 
 and deceiptfull commodities does he furnish the 
 markets. Neither steps he upon the divels stage 
 alone, but others are likewise Actors in the 
 selfe-same Scene, and sharers with him : for no 
 sooner shall money be ofFred for a Horse, but 
 presently one Snake thrusts out his head and 
 stings the buyer with false praises of the Horses 
 goodnesse : An other throwes out his poisoned 
 hooke and whispers in the Chapmans eare, that 
 upon his knowledge so much or so much hath 
 bene offred by foure or five, and would not be 
 taken : and of these Ravens there be sundry 
 nests, but all of them as blacke in soule as the 
 Horse-courser (with whome they are yoaked) is 
 in conscience. This Regiment of Horsemen is 
 therefore devided into foure Squadrons, z'i'z.. 
 
 1. When Horse-coursers travaile to country 
 faires, they are cdWedJynglers. 
 
 2. When they have the leading of the Horst 
 and serve in Smithfield, they are Drovers.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 257 
 
 3. They that stand by and conycatche the A new 
 Chapman either with Out- biddings false-praises^ )^\n^ of 
 &c. are called GW« "^^^^^^ 
 
 4. The boyes, striplings, &c., that have the 
 ryding of the Jades up and downe are called 
 Skip-jacks. 
 
 Jacke / in a Boxe. 
 
 Or a new kinde of Cheating, teaching how to 
 change golde into Silver^ unto which is added a 
 Map, by which a man may learn how to travell 
 all over England and have his charges borne, 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 How many Trees of Ev'tll are growing in this 
 countrie ? how tall they are ? how Mellow is 
 their fruit l and how greedily gathered ? so 
 much ground doe they take up, and so thickly 
 doe they stand together, that it seemeth a king- 
 dom can bring forth no more of their nature : 
 yes, yes, there are not halfe so many Rivers in 
 Hell, in which a soule may saile to damnation, 
 as there are Black Streames of Mischiefe and 
 Villany (besides all those which in our Now-two 
 Voyages we have ventured so many leagues up, 
 for discoverie) in which thousandes of people are 
 continually swimming, and everie minute in 
 danger utterly to be cast away. 
 . The Horse-courser of hell, after he had 
 durtyed himselfe with ryding up and downe 
 Smithfield, and having his beast under him,
 
 258 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Lectures gallopped away amaine to beholde a race of five 
 on public my les by a couple of Rmining- Horses^ uppon 
 aDuses ^fjQse swiftnesse great summes of money were 
 laide in wagers. In which Schoole of Horse- 
 munshippe (wherein for the moste part none but 
 Gallants are the Studients) hee construed but 
 strange Lectures of Abuses: he could make 
 large Comments uppon those that are the Runners 
 of those Races, and could teach others how to 
 lose fortie or fiftie pound pollitickly in the fore- 
 noone, and in the after noone (with the selfe- 
 same Gelding) to winne a thousand markes 
 in five or sixe miles riding. He could tell 
 how Gentlemen are fetch'd in and made 
 younger brothers, and how your Jiezv Knight 
 comes to be a Couzen of this Race. He 
 could drawe the true pictures of some fellowes, 
 that dyet these Running Horses^ / who for 
 a bribe of fortie or fiftie shillings can by a false 
 Dye make their owne Maisters loose a hundred 
 pound a race. He could shew more craftie 
 Foxes in this wild-goose chase then there are 
 white foxes in Russia, and more strange Horse 
 trickes plaide by such Riders, then Bankes his 
 curtail did ever practise (whose Gamballs of 
 the two, were the honester.) 
 
 But because this sort of Birdes have many 
 feathers to loose, before they can feele any 
 colde, he suffers them to make their owne flight, 
 knowing that prodigalls doe but jest at the 
 stripes which other mens rods give them, and 
 never complaine of smarting till they are whip'd 
 with their owne. 
 
 In everie Corner did he finde Serpents in-
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 259 
 
 gendering : under everie roofe, some impyetie Descrip 
 or other lay breeding : but at last perceiving tion of 
 that the most part of men were by the forcerie P^Jf^ck- 
 of their own divelish conditions transformed 
 into Wolves, and being so changed, were more 
 brutish and bloody, then those that were Wolves 
 by nature : his spleene leap'd against his ribbes 
 with laughter, and in the height of that joy 
 resolved to write the villanies of the world in 
 Folio, and to dedicate them in private to his 
 Lord and Maister, because hee knew him to 
 bee an open-handed patron, albeit he was no 
 great lover of schollers. 
 
 But having begun one picture of a certaine 
 strange Beast, [cdWtd Jack in a Boxe) thatonely 
 (because the Cittie had given money already to 
 see it) hee finished : and in these colours was 
 Jack in a Boxe drawn. It hath the head of a 
 man (the face well bearded) the eyes of a 
 Hawke, the tongue of a Lap-wing^ which saies 
 heere it is, when the nest is a good way off: it 
 hath the stomacke of an Estrich, and can disgest 
 silver as easily, as that Bird dooth Yron. It 
 hath the pawes of a Beare instead of handes, 
 for whatsoever it fastneth uppon, it holdes : 
 From the middle downe-wardes, it is made 
 like a Grey-hound, and is so swift of foote, 
 that if it once get the Start of you, a whole 
 Kennel of Hounds cannot / overtake it. It 
 loves to hunt dry-foote, and can Scent a Traine 
 in no ground so well as the Cittie, and yet not 
 in all places of the Cittie. But he is best in 
 Scenting betweene Ludgate and Temple-barre : 
 and tis thought that his next hunting shall bee
 
 26o LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The trick betweene Lumbard-streete and the Gold-smithes 
 of ring- JiQ^g in Chsape-side : Thus much for his out- 
 ch^e-es ^^^^ parts, now you shall have him unrip'd, and 
 see his inward. 
 
 This Jacke in a Boxe, or this Devill in mans 
 shape, wearing (like a player on a Stage) good 
 cloathes on his backe, comes to a Golde-s?nithes 
 Stall, to a Drapers^ a Haberdashers, or into any 
 other shop where he knows good store of silver 
 faces are to be scene. And there drawing 
 foorth a faire new box, hammered all out of 
 Silver Plate, hee opens it, and powres foorth 
 twentie or forty Twentie-shiUing-peeces in 
 Nezu-golde. To which heape of Worldly- 
 Jemptation, thus much hee addes in words, that 
 either he him-selfe, or such a Gentleman (to 
 whom he belongs) hath an occasion for foure or 
 five dales to use fortie pound. But because he 
 is verie shortly, (nay he knowes not how 
 suddenly) to travaile to Venice, to Jerusalem or 
 so, and would not willingly be disfurnished of 
 Golde^ he dooth therefore request the Cittizen 
 to lend (upon those Forty tzventy shilling peeces) 
 so much in white money (but for foure, five or 
 sixe daies at most) and for his good-will he 
 shall receive any reasonable satisfaction. The 
 Cittizen (knowing the pawne to be better then 
 a Bond) powres downe fortie pound in silver; 
 the other drawes it, and leaving so much golde 
 in Hostage, marcheth away with Bag and 
 Baggage. 
 
 Five daies being expired, Jacke in a box, 
 (according to his Bargaine) being a man ot his 
 word comes againe to the Shop or stall (at
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 261 
 
 which hee angles for fresh Fish) and there Ringing 
 casting out his line with the silver hooke, thats the 
 to say, pouring out the forty pound which hee <^"^"&6S 
 borrowed, The Citizen sends in, or steps him- 
 selfe for the Boxe with the Golden devill in it : 
 it is opened, and the army of angels / being 
 mustred together, they are all found to bee there. 
 The Box is shut agon and set on the Stall, 
 whilst the Cittizen is telling of his money : But 
 whilst this musicke is sounding, Jacke in a Boxe 
 acres his part in a dumb shew thus ; hee shifts 
 out of his fingers another Boxe of the same mettall 
 and making, that the former beares, which second 
 Boxe is filled onely with shillings and being 
 poized in the hand, shall seeme to cary the 
 weight of the former, and is clap'd down in 
 place of the first. The Citizen in the meane 
 time (whilst this Pit-fall is made for him) telling 
 the fortie poundes, misseth thirtie or fortie 
 shillings in the whole summe, at which the 
 Jacke in a Boxe starting backe (as if it were a 
 matter strange unto him) at last making a 
 gathering within himselfe, for his wits, hee 
 remembers (he saies) that hee laid by so much 
 money as is wanting (of the fortie poundes) to 
 dispatch some businesse or other, and forgot to 
 put it into the Bag againe ; notwithstanding, 
 hee intreates the Citizen to keepe his golde still, 
 hee will take the white money home to fetch 
 the rest, and make up the Summe, his absence 
 shall not bee above an houre or two : before 
 which time he shall bee sure to heare of him ; and 
 with this the little Divell vanisheth, carrying 
 that away with him, which in the end will send
 
 262 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Trim- him to the Gallowes, (thats to say his owne 
 "ling golde) and fortie pound besides ot the Shop- 
 keepers, which hee borrowed, the other beeing 
 giad to take forty shilHngs for the whole debt, 
 and yet is soundly box'd for his labour. 
 
 This Jacke in a boxe^ is yet but a Chicken, 
 and hath laide verie few Egges : if the Hang- 
 man doe not spoyle it with treading, it will proove 
 an excellent Henne of the Game. It is a knot 
 of Cheators but newly tyed, they are not yet a 
 company. They liie not like Wilde-Geese (in 
 flockes) but like Kites (single) as loath that 
 any should share in their pray. They have two 
 or three names, (yet they are no Romaines, but 
 errant Rogues) for some-times they call them- 
 selves Jacke in a boxe, but / now that their 
 infantrie growes strong, and that it is knowne 
 abroad, that they carrie the Philosophers stone 
 about them, and are able of fortie shillings to 
 make fortie pound, they therefore use a deade 
 March, and the better to cloake their villanies, 
 doe put on these Masking suites : viz. 
 
 1. This art or sleight of changing golde into 
 silver, is called Trimming. 
 
 2. They that practise it, terme them-selves 
 Sheepe-shearers. 
 
 3. The Gold which they bring to the Cittizen, 
 is cald Jasons Fleece. 
 
 4. The silver which they pick up by this 
 wand ring, is White-zvooll. 
 
 5. Thev that are Cheated by Jacke in a Boxe^ 
 are called Bleaters. 
 
 Oh Fleete-streete ! Fleete-streete ! how hast 
 thou bene trimd, washed, Shaven and Polde by
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 263 
 
 these deere and damnable Barbers ? how often How to 
 hast thou mette with these Sheep-shearers F how travel at 
 many warme flakes of wooll have they pulled ^^^^^^ ^°^^ 
 from thy Back ? yet if thy Bleating can make 
 the flockes that graze nere unto thee and round 
 about thee, to lift up their eyes, and to shunne 
 such Wolves and Foxes, when they are ap- 
 proaching, or to have them worryed to death 
 before they sucke the blood of others, thy 
 misfortunes are the lesse, because thy neighbours 
 by them shall be warned from danger. 
 
 Many of thy Gallants (O Fleete-streete) have 
 spent hundreds of poundes in thy presence, and 
 yet never were so much as drunke for it ; but 
 for everie fortye pound that thou layest out in 
 this Indian commoditie (of gold) thou hast a 
 Silver Boxe bestowed upon thee, to carry thy 
 Tobacco in, because thou hast ever loved that 
 costlye and Gentleman-like Smoak. Jacke in a 
 Boxe hath thus plaide his part. There is yet 
 another Actor to step upon the stage, and he 
 seemes to have good skil in Cosmography, for 
 he holdes in his hand a Map, wherein hee hath 
 layde downe / a number of Shires in England, 
 and with small pricks hath beaten out a path, 
 teaching how a man may easily, (tho not verry 
 honestly) travell from Country to Country, and 
 have his charges borne ; and thus it is. 
 
 He that under-takes this strange journey, 
 layes his first plotte how to be turned into a 
 Brave man, which he findes can be done by 
 none better then by a trusty Jailor: working 
 therefore hard with him, till his suite be granted. 
 Out of the Cittie, beeing mounted on a good
 
 264 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The gelding, he rides upon his owne bare credit, not 
 pretended caring whether he travell to meete the Sunne at 
 Jobber* his Rysing or at his going downe. He knowes 
 his Kitchin smokes in every Countie, and his 
 table covered in every Shire. For when he 
 comes within a mile ot the Towne where hee 
 meanes to catche Quailes, setting Spurres to his 
 horse, away he gallops, with his cloake off (for 
 in these Beseigings of Townes hee goes not 
 armd with any, his Hatte thrust into his Hose, as 
 if it were lost, and onely an emptie paire of 
 Hangers by his side, to shew that hee has bene 
 disarmed. And you must note, that this Hot- 
 spurre does never set uppon any places but onely 
 such, where hee knowes (by intelligence) there 
 are store of Gentlemen, or wealthy Farmers at 
 the least. Amongst whome when hee is come, 
 hee tels with distracted lookes, and a voice 
 almoste breathlesse, how many Villans ijet 
 uppon him, what golde and silver they tooke from 
 him, what woods they are fled into, from what 
 part of England he is come, to what place he is 
 going, how farre he is from home, how farre 
 from his jornies end, or from any Gentleman of 
 his acquaintance, and so lively personates the 
 lying Greek (Synon) in telling a lamentable tale : 
 that the mad Trojanes (the Gentlemen of the 
 towne), beleeving him, and the rather because he 
 carries the shape of an honest man in shew, and 
 of a Gentleman in his apparrell, are liberall of 
 their purses, lending him money to beare him on 
 his journey : to pay which he offers either his 
 bill or bond (naming his lodging / in London) 
 or gives his word (as hces a Gentleman), which
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 265 
 
 they rather take, knowing the like misfortune False 
 may be theirs at any time. letters of 
 
 And thus with the feathers of other birdes, is recom- 
 this Monster stuck, making wings of sundry j^^"^^- 
 fashions, with which he thus basely flies over a 
 whole kingdom. Thus doth he ride from 
 Towne to Towne, from Citty to Citty as if he 
 were a Land-lord in every shire, and that he 
 were to gather Rent up of none but Gentlemen. 
 
 There is a Twin-brother to this False-galloper^ 
 and hee cheats Inne-keepers onely, or their 
 Tapsters, by learning first what Country-men 
 they are, and of what kindred : and then bring- 
 ing counterfeit letters of commendations from 
 such an Uncle, or such a Coozen (wherein is 
 requested, that the Bearer thereof may bee used 
 kindely) hee lyes in the Inne till he have fetcht 
 over the Maister or Servant for some mony (to 
 draw whome to him he hath many hookes) and 
 when they hang fast enough by the Gills, under 
 water Our Sharke dives, and is never scene to 
 swimme againe in that River. 
 
 Uppon this scaffold, also might be mounted a 
 number of Quack-salving Empiricks,, who ariving 
 in some Country towne clappe up their Terrible 
 Btlles, in the Market-place, and filling the Paper 
 with such horrible names of diseases, as if every 
 disease were a Divell, and that they could conjure 
 them out of any Towne at their pleasure. Yet 
 these Beggerly Mountibanks are meare Cozeners, 
 and have not so much skill as Horseleeches. The 
 poore people not giving money to them to be 
 cured of any infirmities, but rather with their 
 money buying worse infirmities of them.
 
 266 LAN THORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 Blowing Uppon the same post, doe certaine stragling 
 onesown Scribiing Writers deserve to have both tneir 
 names and themselves hung up, insteed of those 
 fah'e tables which they hang up in Townes, as 
 gay picturees to intice Schollers to them : the 
 Tables are w \j~\ itten with sundry kindes of hands, 
 but not one finger of those hands (not one letter 
 there) / drops from the Penne of such a false 
 wandering Scribe. He bu^es other mens cunning 
 good cheape in London, and sels it deere in the 
 Country. These Swallowes bragge of no qualitie 
 in them so much as o{ siviftnesse, lufoure and 
 twenty houres, they will work foure and twenty 
 wonders, and promise to teach those, that know 
 no more what belongs to an A. then an Asse, to 
 bee able (in that narrow compasse) to write as 
 /aire and as fast as a country Vicar, who 
 commonly reads all the Townes Letters. 
 
 But wherefore doe these counterfeit Maisters 
 of that Noble scie?ice of Writings kcepe such a 
 florishing with the borrowed weapons of other 
 Mens Pennes ? onely for this to gette halfe the 
 Birdes (which they strive to catch) into their 
 hands, thats to say, to bee payde halfe the money 
 which is agreed upon for the Scholler, and his 
 nest being halfe fild with such Gold-finches, he 
 never stayes till the rest be fledged, but suffers him 
 that comes next, to beate the bush for the other 
 halfe. At this Careere the Ryder that set 
 out last from Smith-field, stop'd : and alighting 
 from Pacolet (the horse that carried him) his 
 next journey was made on foote.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 267 
 
 The Bel-mans second 
 Night-walke. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Sir Lancebt of the infernall Lake, or the Knight The 
 Errant of Hell, having thus (like a yong country "^nigfht- 
 gentleman) gone round about the Citty, to see ^e^if " ° 
 the sights not onely within the walles but those 
 also in the Subburbes, was glad when hee sawe 
 night having put on the vizard that Hell lends 
 her (cald darkenes) to leape in to her Coach, 
 because now he knew he should meete with other 
 strange birdes and / beasts fluttring from their 
 nests, and crawling out of their dennes. His 
 prognostication held currant, and the foule 
 weather (which hee foretold,) fell out accord- 
 ingly. For Candle-light had scarce opend his 
 eye (to looke at the Citty like a gunner shooting 
 at a marke), but fearefully (their feet trembling 
 under them) their eyes suspitiously rouling from 
 every nooke to nooke round about them, and their 
 heads (as if they stood uppon oyled skrewes) still 
 turning back behinde them, came creeping out of 
 hollow-trees, where they lay hidden ; a number 
 of couzning Bankrupts in the shapes of Owles, 
 who when the Marshall of H.ght, the sunne, went 
 up and downe to search the Citty, durst not stir 
 abroad, for feare of beeing houted at and followed 
 by whole flockes of undon creditors.
 
 268 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The But now when the stage of the world was hung 
 terrors of in blacke, they jetted uppe and dovvne like proud 
 ^ ^S t 'Tragedians. O what thankes they gave to 
 Darknesse ! what * songes they balladed out in 
 praise of Night, for bestowing upon them so 
 excellent a cloake wherein they might so safely 
 walke muffled ! Now durst they, as if they had 
 beene Constables, rappe alowd at the dores of 
 those to whom they owed most money, and brave 
 them with hie wordes, tho they payd them not a 
 penny. 
 
 Now did they boldly step into some priviledged 
 Taverne, and there drinke healthes, dance with 
 Harlots, and pay both Drawers and Fidlers after 
 mid-night with other mens money, and then march 
 home againe fearelessse of the blowes that any 
 showUer - clapper durst give them. Out of 
 another Ne^t flew certaine Murderers and Theeves 
 m the shapes of Skreech-owles. who, being set on 
 by the Night, did beate with their bold and 
 venturous fatall wings at the very dores, whereas, 
 in former times, their villanies had entred. 
 
 Not farre from These^ came crawling out of 
 their bushes a company of grave and wealthy 
 Lechers in the shapes of Glozve-zvormes, who 
 with gold, Jvngling in their pockets, / made such 
 a shew in the night, that the dores of Common 
 Brothlryes flew upon to receive them, tho in the 
 day time they durst not passe that way, for fear 
 that noted Curttza?is should challenge them of 
 acquaintance, or that others should laugh at them 
 to see luhite heades growing upon greene stalkes, 
 
 * Nox "vercnda, i-ercnda, &c.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 269 
 
 Then came forth certaine infamous earthy Snails 
 minded Creatures in the shapes of Snailes, who 
 all the day time hyding their heads in their shells, 
 least boies should with two fingers point at them 
 for livmg basely upon the prostitution of their 
 wives bodies, cared not now, before candle-light^ 
 to shoote out their largest and longest Homes. 
 
 A number of other monsters, like These, were 
 scene (as the sunne went downe) to venture from 
 their dennes, only to ingender with Darknesse : 
 but candle lights eyesight growing dimmer and 
 dimmer, and he at last falling starke blind, 
 Lucifers Watchman went strumbling up and down 
 in the darke. 
 
 How to zveane Horses, 
 
 Every dore on a sudden was shut, not a candle 
 stood peeping through any window, not a Vintner 
 was to be scene brewing in his Cellor, not a 
 drunkerd to be met reeling, not a Mouse to be 
 heard stirring : al ye Citty shewed like one Bed, 
 for all in that Bed were soundly cast into a slcepe. 
 Noyse made no noise, for every one that wrought 
 with the hammer was put to silence. Yet not- 
 withstanding when even the Divel himselfe could 
 have beene contented to take a nap, there were 
 few Innkeepers about ye towne but had their 
 spirits walking. To watch which spirits what 
 they did, our Spy, that came lately out of ye 
 Lower Countries, stole into one of their Circles 
 where lurking very closely, hee perceived yt when 
 all the guests were profoundly sleeping, when 
 Cariers, were soundly snorting, and not so much
 
 270 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 The as the Chamberlaine of the house but was layd up, 
 tricks of sucicienly out of his bed started an Hostler^ who 
 ®^ ^'' having no apparell on but his shirt, a paire of 
 slip-shooes on his / feete, and a Candle burning 
 in his hand Hke olde Jeronimo step'd into the 
 stable amongst a number of poore hungry Jades, 
 as if that night he had beene to ride poast to ye 
 Divell. But his jorney not lying that way till 
 some other time, he neither bridled nor sadled 
 any of his foure-footed guests that stood there at 
 racke and manger, but seeing them so late at 
 supper, and knowingthat to over-eatethem-selves 
 would lill them full of diseases, (they being 
 subject to above a hundred and thirty already) 
 hee first (without a voyder) after a most 
 unmanerly fashion tooke away, not onely all 
 the Provander that was set before them, but 
 also all the hay, at which before they were glad 
 to lick their lippes. The poore Horses looked 
 very rufully upon him for this, but hee rubbing 
 their teeth onely wiin the end of a Candle (in 
 steed of a Corrall) told them, that for their 
 Jadish trickes it was now time to weane them : 
 And so wishing them not to bee angry if they lay 
 upon the hard boards, considering all the beddes 
 in the house were full, back againe hee stole to his 
 Coach, till breake of day : yet fearing least the 
 sunne should rise to discover his knavery, up hee 
 started, and intothestablehestumbled, scarce halfe 
 awake, giving to every Jade a bottle of hay for his 
 breake-fast ; but al of them being troubled with 
 thegreazy tooth-ach could eate none, which their 
 maisters in the morning espying swore they were 
 either sullen or els that provender pricked them.
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 271 
 
 This Hostler for this peece of service was What 
 
 afterwards preferred to be one of the Groomes in Plutos 
 
 Beizebubs stable. ^^^^^^ 
 
 saw 
 
 Another Night-peece drawne in 
 sundry collours. 
 
 Shall I shew you what other bottomes of 
 mischiefe, Plutos Beadle saw wound upon the 
 blacke spindels of the Night, in this his privy 
 search ? In some streetes he met Mid-wives 
 running, till they sweat, and following them close 
 at heeles, he spied them to be let in, at the backe 
 dores of houses, seated either in blind lanes, or in 
 by-gardens : / which houses had roomes builded 
 for the purpose, where young Maides, being 
 bigge with childe by unlawful Fathers, or voung 
 wives (in their husbands abscence at sea, or in the 
 warres) having wrastled with batchilers or 
 maried men, til they caught falls, lay safely til 
 they wer delivered of them. And for reason- 
 able summes of mony, the bastards that at these 
 windows crept into the world, were as closely 
 now and then sent presently out of the * world, 
 or else were so unmannerly brought up, that they 
 never spake to their owne parents that Ijegot them. 
 
 In some streetes he met servants in whose brest 
 albeit the arrowes of the plague Ltuck halfe way, 
 yet by cruell maisters were they driven out of dores 
 at mid-night and convaid to Garden-houses, where 
 they either died before next morning, or else were 
 carried thither dead in their coffins, as tho they 
 had lien sicke there before and there had dyed. 
 
 Now and then at the corner of a turning hee 
 
 • Pectora tent'n cbsessa ma/is.
 
 272 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 What spyed servants purloyning fardels of their 
 Pluto s rnaisters goods, and delivering them to the 
 beadle , j r . 
 
 -g^^ hands or common strumpets. 
 
 This dore opend, and Lust with Prodigality 
 were heard to stand closely kissing : and (wring- 
 ing one another by the hand) softly to whisper 
 out foure or five good-nights, till they met 
 abroad the next morning. 
 
 A thousand of these comedies were acted in 
 dumb shew, and onely in the privat houses : at 
 which the Divells messenger laught so loud that 
 He// heard him, and for joy range foorth loude 
 and lustie P/auditicS. But beeing driven into 
 wonder why the night would fall in labour, and 
 bring foorth so many Villanies, whose births she 
 practised to cover (as she had reason) because 
 so many watchmeJi were continually called and 
 charged to have an eye to her dooings, at length 
 he perceived that Bats (more ugly and more in 
 number then these) might flye up and downe in 
 darkenesse: fortho with their Letherne Wings they 
 should strike the verry billes out of those Watch- 
 mens handes, such leaden plummets were com- 
 monly / hung by sleepe at all their eyelids, that 
 hardly they could be awakned to strike them agen. 
 
 On therefore he walkes, with intent to hasten 
 home, as having fil'd his Table Bookes with 
 sutTicient notes of intelligence. But, at the last, 
 meeting with the Be//-man^ and not knowing 
 what he was because he went without his Lan- 
 thorne and some other implements : for the man 
 in the Moone was up the most part of the night 
 and lighted him which way soever he turned . 
 he tooke him for some churlish Hobgob/in^
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 273 
 
 seeing a long staffe on his necke, and therefore The 
 to be one of his owne fellowes. The Bel-ringer belhnan's 
 Smelling what strong scent he had in his nose, f^^^^^ 
 soothed him up, and questioning with him how 
 he had spent his time in the citty, and what 
 discovery of Land-villanies he had made in this 
 Hand voiage : ye Mariner of hell, opened his 
 chart, which he had lined with all abuses lying 
 either East, West, North, or South : he shewed 
 how he had pricked it, upon what points he had 
 saild, where he put in : under what height he 
 kept him-selfe : where he went a shore, what 
 strange people he met : what land he had dis- 
 covered, and what commodities he was laden 
 with from thence. Of all which the Bell-man 
 drawing forth a perfect Map, they parted : 
 which Map he hath set out in such collors as 
 you see, tho not with such cunning as he could 
 wish : the paines are his owne, the pleasure, 
 if this can yeelde any pleasure, onely yours, 
 on whome he bestowcs it : to him that em- 
 braceth his labours, he dedicats both them and 
 his love : with him that either knowes not how, 
 or cares not to entertaine them, he will not be 
 angry, but onely to Him sayes thus much for a 
 farretvell. 
 
 'Si quid Novisti rectius istis. 
 
 Candidus imperii : Si non, his utere mecum, 
 FINIS./
 
 \ 
 
 The present edition of the Gul's Hornbook, The Belmaa 
 of London, and Lanthorne and Candlelight, has been 
 carefully collated ivith the earliest editions by Mr. Oliphant 
 Smeaton, M.A. , who has added the Marginalia and the 
 Notes, and also appended an Index of Subjects. 
 
 29 Bedford Street, 
 
 London, December, 1 904.
 
 Notes 
 
 \^TAe numbers at the beginning of paragraph refer to iht 
 pages and Hnes.~\ 
 
 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 Dedication, line lo : thirty in the hundred. — The 
 usual rate of interest for the loan of money was thirty 
 per cent. 
 
 21. Poivles is your IValke. — St Paul's; in Elizabethan 
 days old St Paul's was the rendezvous of all the 
 gulls, sharpers and indifferent characters in the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 To THE Reader, line 9 : Gro^/j«»OTf.— Rudeness, 
 boorishness — from the German grab, coarse. 
 
 7 : I. cuckooe in fune. — The cuckoo is so seldom 
 heard in June that it has given rise to the idea that it 
 leaves the country then ; this is not the case, but it 
 is absolutely silent after the middle of June has been 
 reached. There is an old Gloucestershire rhyme : — 
 
 " The cuckoo comes in April, 
 Sings a song in May, 
 Then in June another tune 
 And then she flies away. " 
 
 Oftentimes before it stops singing its note becomes 
 cracked and harsh. Cf. Bruce's Ode to the Cuckoo. 
 
 8 : 14. fVill Sommer his ivardrobe. — In fool's cap and 
 motley coat. See Nash's Summer s Last Will and Testa- 
 ment^ Prologue, 11. 1-22. 
 
 8: 33. table-men. — The men used in playing at 
 " tables " or backgammon, but Dekker here uses it as a 
 
 S2 '"
 
 276 THE GULS HORN BOOKE 
 
 name of contempt for affected coxcombs sitting at a 
 table. 
 
 9 : 2. Kelly. — Edward Kelly, an unprincipled 
 alchemist of the period who deceived many of his con- 
 temporaries. Born at Worcester about the middle of 
 the sixteenth century and bred an apothecary, he ac- 
 quired a smattering of chemistry and boasted he was in 
 possession of the Philosopher's Stone. He was taken 
 under the patronage of Dr John Dee, the conjurer, 
 mathematician, spy and cheat, and the two travelled 
 over a great part of Europe. Kelly visited the 
 Emperor Rudolph II. at Prague, got into trouble there, 
 was imprisoned as a rogue, and died of a broken leg 
 received uhile attempting to escape from prison. Cf. 
 Ben Jonson's Alchemist, IV i, *'A man the Emperor 
 has courted above Kelly." 
 
 9 : lo. tivelve-fenny roome next the Uage. — This was 
 the best private box in the theatre, which was generally 
 reserved for some well-known nobleman. 
 
 9: 15. Zo'ilus. — A sophist and grammarian of 
 Amphipolis who flourished about B.C. 260. He became 
 famous for his severe criticisms on Plato, Isocrates and 
 Homer, whence he was called Homeromastix. He was 
 reported to have been stoned to death, or as some say 
 crucified by order of Ptolemy Philadelphus for his 
 criticisms on Homer. His name has become typical for 
 critics who are unduly severe. 
 
 9 : 16. Momus. — The God of jesting and mirth. He 
 was continually engaged in satirising and ridiculing the 
 other gods until he was driven from heaven. Cf. Hesiod's 
 Theogony. 
 
 9 : 29. Dutch cryer. — In Holland the town criers 
 always used a drum in place of a bell. 
 
 9: 32. Lord or Lozvne. — Corresponding to " gentle or 
 simple." The word *'Ioon" comes from this. 
 
 10 : 28. lie at . , . on a truckle-bed. — The truckle- 
 bed was a small bed made to run under a large one. It 
 was generally appropriated to a servant or attendant of 
 some kind, also to pupils. In the statutes of Corpus 
 Christi College, Oxford, given in 15 16, the scholars are 
 ordered to sleep under the beds of the Fellows in a truckle- 
 bed. Also in those of Magdalen College, given in 1459,
 
 NOTES 
 
 277 
 
 we read, " Sint duo lecti, principales, et duo lecti rotales, 
 ' trookyll beddys' vulgariter nuncrepati." While in 
 those of Trinity College (1556) it is called "a trocele- 
 bed," also a trundle-bed, whence we can ascertain the 
 etymology. Cf. Rcturne from Parnassus^ II. vi. 43, 
 where Amorctte says, " When I was at Cambridge and 
 lay in a trundle-bed under my tutor." 
 
 11 : II. Tarleton, Kemp, Singer. — The names of famous 
 actors in the Elizabethan days. The first-named, a 
 broad comedian, is noted for his "Jig of the Horseload 
 of Fools." Kemp bought notoriety by dancing the 
 Morris dance from London to Norwich. Singer was also 
 a comedian of repute. They were all contemporaries of 
 Shakespeare. See Memoirs of the Principal Actors of 
 the Plays of Shakespeare among the publications of the Old 
 Shakespeare Society. 
 
 12 ; 18. Comus. — The god of revelry and feasting, 
 usually represented as a young man, much intoxicated, 
 holding a torch which is slipping from his grasp. 
 
 13 : I. Roivle Trinidado, Leaf, and Pudding — Rolled 
 Trinidad, Virginia Leaf, and Pudding — were all various 
 kmds of tobacco affected by the exquisites of the time. 
 
 13 : 15. penny galleries. — The part of the theatre 
 corresponding in Dekker's time to our " gods." The 
 penny galleries, however, in the later Elizabethan theatres, 
 such as the Globe, were not the cheapest parts of the 
 theatre. In reality twopence was paid for accommoda- 
 tion there. Every spectator paid one penny on enrering 
 the theatre, and this also admitted him to the "yard," 
 where he stood among the " groundlings " or " stinkards." 
 If he desired better accommodation he paid additional 
 charges, to the "penny gallery," to the "twopenny 
 room," and so forth. 
 
 14 : 2. Grout-noivles. — A reference to the woollen or 
 hairy nightcaps worn by Dutchmen ; an instance of 
 metonymy, where peculiar and distinguishing articles of 
 attire are employed to designate the persons wearing them. 
 
 14: 2. Moames = momes, i.e., dolts and blockheads. 
 Cf. Comedy of Errors, when Dromio of Syracuse answers 
 his brother of Ephesus's call of " Maud, Bridget, 
 Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Jin," with *' Mome, malt- 
 horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch."
 
 27S THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 14 : 14. eringo-roote. — (Sometimes "eryngo ") a genus of 
 evergreen plants resembling thistle, the young leaves of 
 which (^Eringo maritimum, or sea-holly) are sometimes 
 eaten as a salad and esteemed a dainty. Lat. eryngicn. 
 Gr. epvyyos. 
 
 14: I >,. Jim baches., and fat bellyei. . . iCfen deadly sins 
 — Cf. Dunbar's Dance oj the Set-en Deadly Sins., 
 Dekker must surely have seen Dunbar's poem for the re- 
 semblances are more than accidental. 
 
 14 : 26. Galionius. — A luxurious Roman who, as 
 Cicero says, never dined well because he was never 
 hungry. Cf. Cicero de Finibui Bk. II. chaps, viii. and 
 zxviii. 
 
 15:3. Burchin or Byrchin Lane. — An alley in old 
 London where canes and rods were sold ; whence came 
 the phrase to send one to Birchen Lane, i.e., to whip 
 them. See also note on 1. 27 of p. 200. 
 
 15 : 4. Heliogabalus. — Roman Emperor elected to the 
 purple when only fourteen years of age. He was a 
 monster of folly, licentiousness and cruelty, raised his 
 horse to the honours of the Consulship, married four 
 wives, and was himself married to one of his officers 
 named Hierocles. He was finally murdered by his 
 soldiers in his eighteenth year (a.d. 222). His luxury 
 and gluttony were incredible, and he lived principally on 
 pies made out of the tongues of the rarest birds. 
 
 15 : 14. King Stephen's breeches. — An allusion to the 
 seventh verse in the old song, "Take thy Old Cloak 
 about thee" : — 
 
 •• King Stephen was a worthy peere, 
 His breeches cost him but a crowne. 
 He held them sixpence all too deare, 
 Therefore he called the tailor Lowne. 
 He was a wight of high renowne, 
 But thouse but of a low degree, 
 It's pride that putts this countrye downe, 
 Man, take thine old cloake about thee." 
 
 See Othello, III. lii, 92, where the first stanza is given : 
 also The Tempest, IV. i. 221, where Trinculo cries, "O 
 King Stephano ! O peer ! O worthy Stephano I look 
 what a wardrobe is here for thee !"
 
 NOTES 279 
 
 15 : 22. Dorp. — A village. Cf. English "thorp." 
 15 : 27. slops. — Wide breeches worn by the Dutch 
 and also by the Spanish. " The great Dutch slop " was 
 mentioned as early as Chaucer, and frequently during 
 Elizabethan times, as for example in Dekker and 
 Middleton's Roaring Girl', "You'll say you'll have the 
 great Dutch slop." 
 
 15 : 28. ^fl///^flj^/« = gally-gascoyne3 ; wide hose worn 
 by the Gascons from Navarre. Cf. Nash's Pierce Peni- 
 lesse^s Supplication to the Dc'vil : "Of the vesture of 
 salvation make some of us babies and apes coats, others 
 straight trusses and divell's breeches, some gally-gascoyns 
 or a shipman's hose like the Anabaptists." Even as 
 late as the end of the eighteenth century, Canning, in the 
 Anti-Jacobin, says in " The Needy Knife-grinder" : — 
 
 " His galligaskens were of corderoy, 
 And garters he had none." 
 
 15 : 29. sagging doivn^hzngm^ down. 
 
 15: 31. standing coller.^-Cf. Hall's Satires: "his 
 linen collar labyrinthian set" (Bk. III. Sat. vii. 1. 39). 
 
 15 : 32 ruffes. — The fashion of wearing collars or ruffs 
 of lawn or fine linen set into intricate plaits by means of 
 an implement called a poking-stick, was then prevalent 
 with the beaux as well as the belles of the time. To 
 " set " a ruff required no mean skill, so much so that it 
 was thought to be the invention of the devil. Cf. 
 Greene's Tu S^uoque : " The woman that had her ruff 
 poked by the devil is a Puritan to her." 
 
 15 : 32. rebatoes. — Ornaments for the neck; a collar 
 band or kind of ruff, in some cases being merely the collar 
 of the shirt turned back. Dekker, in Satiromastix, speaks 
 of a rebate worn out with pinning too often, while in 
 Marston's Satires we read : — 
 
 " Her soul struts round about her neck, 
 Her seat of sense is her rebato set." 
 
 Also in Day's Laiv Tricks, II., the reference occurs ; — 
 
 " And broke broad jests upon her narrow heele, 
 Poked her rebatoes and surveyed her Steele."
 
 28o THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 The original form of the word was rabato, and as such it 
 occurs in Much Ado about Nothing, III. iv. 6 : "Troth I 
 think your other rabato were better." 
 
 i6 : 7. Saturnian age. — The Golden Age, when Arcadia 
 was supposed to be the type of country life. 
 
 16 : 14. Crookes his ordinary. — A famous tavern and 
 dining-house in Cheapside. 
 
 16 : 25. Paris garden, or, as it ought to be written, 
 " Parish Garden," situated on the south side of the 
 Thames, was an ancient manor which in the 12th century 
 had been bestowed on the Knights Templars, and by them 
 assigned to the Church. After the Reformation it was the 
 property of Francis Langley and became public gardens 
 and bear-baiting yards ; finally the theatre called the Swan 
 was built within its bounds. See Mr Fairman Ordish's 
 invaluable work, Early London Theatres. 
 
 24 : 12. Platoes cocke. — Plato having defined man as a 
 featherless biped, Diogenes plucked the feathers from a 
 cock and sent it into Plato's lecture-room with the inscrip- 
 tion round its neck, ''Plato's Man." 
 
 24 : 27. bahioivnes. — Baboons. 
 
 24 : 29. mandilion. — A loose coat worn upon a doublet 
 either buttoned or open. It had no sleeves, but two 
 broad wings on the shoulders and hanging sleeves at the 
 back with side skirts or laps. 
 
 25 : 17. nimble "Jackes of a paire of Virginals. — The 
 virginals were one of the most popular musical instru- 
 ments of the Elizabethan era, and may be described in the 
 words of Mr Louis C. Elson in his excellent volume, 
 Shakespeare in Music, as ** a tiny and primitive piano on 
 which the strings were plucked by little pieces of quill." 
 The tone of the virginals was faint ; shading was im- 
 possible upon it ; and the player produced a constant and 
 irritating pizzicato. Cf. Shakespeare, ^ ^^wrfr'j Tale, I. 
 ii., where Leontes cries angrily: "Still virginalling upon 
 his palm " ; and in Sonnet 128 he makes a reference not 
 unlike that of Dekker : — 
 
 " Do I envy those Jacks that nimble leap. 
 To kiss the tender inward of thy hand.' 
 
 Nay, Dekker himself in Satiromastix says : " Lord ha
 
 NOTES 281 
 
 mercy upon us ! We women fall and fall still ; and 
 when we have our husbands we play upon them like 
 virginal-jacks, they must rise and fall to our humours." 
 
 27 : 3. Jobbernoivlei. — Thick-headed dolts, from Flem. 
 jobbe^ dull, and Sax. no/, head. Cf. Marston's Satires, Bk. 
 II. vi. : *'His guts are in his brains, huge jobbernoule." 
 
 28 : 25. Conies. — The Elizabethan name for sharpers 
 and thieves. See Greene's pamphlets on " Coney- 
 catching." 
 
 28 : 30. May-mornings. — For an analogous passage see 
 Chaucer's Canterbury Ta/esy "Knight's Tale," 11. 1034- 
 1048. 
 
 32 : 22. Will Clark was a famous bell-ringer of St 
 Paul's, who for many years was chief of the staff of ringers 
 that on special occasions were called on to ring the 
 chimes of the old cathedral. 
 
 33: II. Ser'ving-mans log. — Seat for servants while 
 waiting on their masters. 
 
 34 : I. Poivles Jacks. — A figure made in old public 
 clocks to strike the bell on the outside ; but Halliwell 
 considered from this passage that the "Jacks" of old St 
 Paul's only struck the quarters. Cf. infra (p. 227, 1. 3), 
 where Dekker describes the mechanism of these "Jacks of 
 the clock-house." He there says, "The jack of a clock- 
 house goes upon screws and his office is to do nothing 
 but strike." Cf. also Beaumont and Fletcher's Coa:co»j^, 
 I. y. 3 :- 
 
 " How is the night, boy? 
 Drawer. Faith, sir, 'tis very late. 
 Uberto. Faith, sir, you lie ! Is this your Jack i' the clockhouse ? " 
 
 35:1. the Dukes Tomb. — The supposititious tomb of 
 Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, who really was buried 
 at St Albans. He probably had a monument in St Paul's, 
 which gave the name to one of the aisles — Duke 
 Humphrey's Walk. In this aisle those who had no 
 means of procuring a dinner were wont to walk during the 
 dinner hour, whence arose the euphemism for going 
 dinnerless that one had been "dining with Duke 
 Humphrey." Cf. Hall's Satires, Bk. III. chap vii. :— 
 
 •' 'Tis Ruffio, trow'st thou where he dined to-day ? 
 In truth, I saw him sit with Duke Humfray."
 
 282 THE GULS HORN-BOOKE 
 
 Also Nash's Wonderful^ Strange and Miraculous Prognosti- 
 cations for this T^ar (1591) : "Sundry fellows in their 
 silks shall be appointed to keep Duke Humfray company 
 in Powles because they know not where to get their 
 dinners abroad." 
 
 35 : 22. quoyt silver. — To cast silver into the hands of 
 the boys in much the same way as one does in playing at 
 quoits. Cf. 2 Henry IV.^ II. iv. 206, " Quoit him down, 
 Bardolph, like a shove groat shilling." 
 
 35 : 32. Put off to none. — Raise thy hat to no one. 
 
 37 : I. Si qjiis doore. — "Si quis = if anyone" was the 
 common beginning of a public announcement, whence 
 such bills took the name, "Siquises. " They were 
 usually posted on a particular door. Cf. Hall's Satires, 
 Bk. 11. V. :— 
 
 " Saw'st thou ere si quis patch'd on Paal's Church dore, 
 To gain some vacant vicarage before." 
 
 Also in Marston's What you Will^ III. i. : "I say my end 
 is to paste up a si quis.'^ Here serving-men intimated 
 that they were open to engagement. 
 
 38: 4. Sir Phillip Sydney {i'^^:^-\!^%e).—nt had died 
 of wounds received at the battle of Zutphen only a few 
 years previous, but his memory was still green as one of 
 the greatest of English heroes. 
 
 40 : 8. Gra've Maurice. — Maurice, Prince of Orange 
 and Count of Nassau, was the son of William the 
 Silent, and became one of the greatest generals of 
 his age, completely defeating the Spaniards in such 
 desperately-contested fields as Turnhout in Brabant 
 (1597) and Nieuwpoort (1600), and for three years 
 baffled and defied all the power of Spain by his defence 
 of Ostend (1601 -1604), until Spain was in 1609 com- 
 pelled to recognise the Netherlands as a free republic. 
 
 48 : 9. Lords roome. — The best box, immediately ad- 
 joining the stage. 
 
 48 : 18. Camhises. — A popular play by Thomas 
 Preston, which was produced as early as 1569-1570. 
 
 48 : 19. Estridge. — Ostrich. 
 
 50 : I. daivcocke. — Literally the male daw or jack- 
 daw, and metaphorically an empty, chattering fellow.
 
 NOTES 283 
 
 Cf. Hospital of Incurable Fools (1600), "Who with new 
 magic will hereafter represent unto you the Castle of 
 Atlas full of dawcocks." 
 
 50 : 24. Tripos or three-footed stoole. — The gallants sat 
 on the stage on tripods, or stools with three legs, for 
 which they paid sixpence for the performance. 
 
 51 : 9. never lin snuffing. — Never stop snuffing. 
 
 54 : 4. Arcadian and Euphuized gentleivomen. — Gentle- 
 women who have formed their manners upon Sir Philip 
 Sidney's Arcadia and Lyly's Euphues. 
 
 54 : 6. shittlecocke. — Our modern shuttlecock. 
 
 56 : 29. Pentecost. — The day of the descent of the 
 Holy Ghost upon the Apostles, now called in England 
 Whit-Sunday, because, being the season when the sacra- 
 ment of baptism was administered, the newly-baptised 
 were clad in white robes. 
 
 62 : 20. Inghle. — A male favourite of a disreputable 
 kind. Cf. Dekker's Satiromastix, where it is continually 
 usedintheform "ningle,"anabbreviation of "mine ingle"} 
 also Massinger's City Madam, IV. i. 4, *' Coming as we 
 do from his quondam patrons his dear ingles now." 
 
 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 78 : 16. Baucis and Philemon, — The names of a happy 
 old pair who, having entertained Jupiter and Mercury, 
 found their humble cottage changed into a magnificent 
 temple and they appointed as the keepers of it. After a 
 long life they died on the same day and hour, that the one 
 might not have the pain of lamenting the other. Cf. 
 Ovid's Metam., Bk. VIIL 631. 
 
 78 : 27. Pedlar's French, or canting language, or the 
 thieves' patter, which has in many respects preserved its 
 identity down to the present day. 
 
 85 : 5. Tom of Bedlam. — Bedlam is a contraction of 
 Bethlehem, from the Priory of St Mary of Bethlehem. 
 This was not converted into an hospital for lunatics until 
 about 1546. Cf. 2 Henry VI., V. i., "To Bedlam with 
 him ! Is the man grown mad ?" 
 
 85 : 10. Abraham-men, or Tom of Bedlam's men, or 
 Bedlam beggars. — A set of vagabonds who wandered
 
 284 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 about the country soon after the dissolution of those 
 
 religious houses, where the poor had been wont to 
 
 receive relief. Cf. Beaumont and Fletcher's Beggars^ 
 Buih, II. i. :— 
 
 " And these what name or title e'er they bear, 
 Jarkeman or Patrice, Crank or Clapperdudgeoa, 
 Frater or Abraham-man ; I speak to all 
 That stand in fair election for the title 
 Of ' King of Beggars.' " 
 
 In the play of the Beggars' Bush, as also in Greene's 
 pamphlets upon " coney-catching," the facts which 
 Dekker in this peculiar volume details, receive ample 
 confirmation. 
 
 92 : 16. they professe Artnes^ etc. — Cf. in connection 
 with this passage the description of FalstafFs " Ragged 
 Regiment" (1 Ucnry IV., IV. ii. 11-49). 
 
 98; 2. Hoipital or Spittle house. — The former usually 
 devoted to the purposes of treating disease; the latter 
 being almost wholly devoted to the segregation of lepers. 
 Ci. Henry V. ,11. i. :— 
 
 " No, to the 'spittle go 
 And from the powdering tub of infamy 
 Fetch forth the lazar kite o»'Cressid's kind." 
 
 104 : 10. Doxye. — Is an instance of a word taken 
 from the thieves' " patter " and introduced into English 
 speech. It originally meant a prostitute, then a mistress, 
 and finally a woman in the lower ranks of life. Cf. 
 A Winter i Tale., where Autolycus in his song introduces 
 it: — 
 
 " When daffodils begin to peer 
 With heigh 1 the doxy over the dale." 
 
 Also in Beaumont and Fletcher's JVomans Prize, III. 
 ii. : — 
 
 " She has studied 
 A way to beggar us both, and by thb hand 
 She shall be, if I live, a doxy." 
 
 Also in their Beggars^ Bush, II. i., " Prostitute doxies 
 are neither wives, maids nor widdows."
 
 NOTES 285 
 
 107 : 8-28. St S^uintens . . . Knapsburie ; also from 
 Middlesex . . . mere Blackheath. — These places can 
 still be recognised, such as Kingsbarns and Ketbrook, 
 
 Ii8 : 27. — St Martin was the patron saint of gamesters. 
 
 119: 3. Barnards Laiv. — Note the explanation of 
 the term in lines 30-32 : "Travelling up and down the 
 whole land, sometimes in the habit of gentlemen, some- 
 times in that of serving-men, sometimes of graziers, 
 farmers and plain fellows, maintaining themselves only 
 by the cozenage they use in carde playing, which kind of 
 play of theirs they call 'The Barnards Law.'" Dekker 
 then goes on to state on page 120 the Ji-ve persons re- 
 quired to carry out this piece of rascality, viz., the Taker, 
 the Cozen, the Verser, the Barnard and the Rutter. 
 Greene, in the preface to his pamphlet, A Notable Dis- 
 co-very of Cczenage, seems to have anticipated Dekker, for 
 he says, " There was before this many years agoe a 
 practice put in use by such shifting companions, which 
 was called the Barnard's Law, wherein, as in the Art of 
 Coney-catching, four persons were required to perform 
 then coosning commodity — the Taker-up, the Verser, the 
 Barnard and the Rutter." Dekker rather unnecessarily 
 introduced the cozen, otherwise the dupe, which reminds 
 one of Meg Dods's first sentence in the recipe for " Hare 
 Soup " in her inimitable Cookery Book : *' first catch your 
 hare." 
 
 121 : I ff. The Stage on luh'tch he playes . . . such 
 like places. — A passage like this shows us how little 
 change topographically and in the nomenclature of the 
 streets has come over London since the days of Elizabeth, 
 especially those parts of it which abut on the river. The 
 Strand, Fleet Street, Chancery Lane, Holborn, St Paul's 
 were the names of the principal thoroughfares then as 
 now. Greene writes in almost identical terms in The 
 Arte of Coney-catching: "The coney-catchers, apparelled 
 like honest civil gentlemen or good fellows, with a 
 smooth face, as if butter would not melt in their mouths, 
 after dinner when the chents are come from Westminstei 
 Hall and are at leasurc to walke upp and downe Paule's, 
 Fleet Street, Holborn, the Strond and such common 
 haunted places where these cosening companions attend 
 only to spie out a praie."
 
 286 THE BEL-MAN OF LONDON 
 
 124: 9. Brainfordy Kingston^ Croydon^ Rumford^ etc. 
 — Names familiar to us to-day, and for the same reason, 
 viz., being the great sources of supply for the London 
 markets. It is interesting to note how Greene in his 
 preface seems to have anticipated much of Dekker's in- 
 formation. There can be little doubt that the latter 
 owed a great deal to his elder fellow-dramatist. 
 
 125 : 24. Vincents Lauo. — With regard to this section, 
 Greene and Dekker absolutely agree in the terminology 
 used — the Bankars, the Gripe, the Vincent and the 
 Terraage, But Dekker has again appropriated a con- 
 siderable portion of Greene's matter wholly without 
 acknowledgment. For example, Greene writes (Grosart's 
 Edition, Vol. X. p. 82): "The bankers, for so are the 
 common hanters of the Alley termed, apparelled, like 
 very honest and substantial citizens, come to bowle, as 
 though rather they did it for sport than gains and under 
 that colour of carelessness doe shadow forth their pre- 
 tended knavery." Dekker states the same facts in the 
 following terms: *'The bankers are commonly men 
 apparelled like honest and substanciall citizens, who 
 come into the Bowling Allies, for a rubber or so, as 
 though it were rather for sport than for any gaines, pro- 
 testing they care not whether they win or lose, which 
 carelessness of theirs is but a shadow to their pretended 
 knaverie." And so on all through the book. Dekker 
 owed much to Greene, though of course, on the other 
 hand, he has introauced an immense number of new facts 
 of which seemingly Greene was in ignorance. The same 
 indifference to the rights of meum and tuum appears on 
 pages 134, 135, where the matter is almost identical 
 with that on pages 76, "^"j of Greene's Second Part tf 
 Coney-catching, 
 
 143 : 17. Westminster and Holborn, as being then 
 beyond the bounds of the city proper, would be without 
 the jurisdiction of the Mayor and Aldermen. 
 
 145 : 8. The Figging La%v. — This is simply the trade 
 of the cut-purse and the pickpocket. 
 
 148: 3-18. Exchequer chamber . . . Borough in South- 
 luarke. — Places still familiar to every Londoner. East- 
 cheap received its name from the market there, in 
 contradistinction to the market at Cheapside known as
 
 NOTES 287 
 
 Westcheap. Eastcheap is familiar to us from the 
 immortal scenes in Shakespeare's Henry IV. at the 
 Boar's Head Tavern. As it was surrounded by markets 
 (says Mr Ordish), the grassmarket on the north, the 
 fishmarket on the south, the meat market on the nest — 
 open to the receipt of all commodities from the Wards of 
 Billingsgate eastward of the bridge, tlie Boar's Head 
 Tavern was in the way to afford excellent entertainment 
 for man and beast. 
 
 148: 18. both Fishstreetei. — One called New Fish 
 Street and the other Fish Street Hill. " In New Fish 
 Street" (says Stow) " be fishmongers and fair taverns; on 
 Fish Street Hill and Grass Street men of divers trades, 
 grocers and haberdashers." 
 
 148 : 30. the Beare-garden. — At Paris Gardens. 
 
 153: 9. Magnijico in pomp. — A Venetian senator in 
 State or official garb. 
 
 LANTHORNE AND CANDLELIGHT 
 
 174: 4. no Germaine . , . Dutch. — Dekker, being of 
 Dutch extraction, naturally attributed the Low German 
 dialect as the speech of the whole of Germany. 
 
 189: I. The suggestion of this scene seems to have 
 been taken from Machiavelli's Marriage of Belphlegor. 
 
 190, 191. In these two pages Dekker is satirising the 
 condition of the English Law Courts of his age, which 
 was disgraceful in the extreme. His description, abating 
 a little for the exaggeration of satire, may be taken as not 
 far from the truth. The passage 11. 3-15 of page 191 
 was said to be aimed at Francis Bacon. 
 
 193: 9. Minos, Eacus and Rhadamanthus were the 
 three Judges of Hell appointed to try the souls of the 
 departed. 
 
 197 : 30. Grand Sophy. — A title of the Shah of Persia, 
 from the Persian sufi, wise. 
 
 199 : 5. Ride up and dotvn Smith-field. — Where so 
 much would be done among country farmers come to 
 town for the markets. 
 
 199: 23. London and Sainte Albones = St A\hzns. 
 
 200: 27. Burchin-lane. — The locality in Elizabethan 
 London where tailors congregated, and ready-made
 
 288 LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT 
 
 clothes dealers. Cf. Return from Parnassus, IV. ii. 193 : 
 "It's fine when that puppet-player, Fortune, must put 
 such a Birchen Lane in so good a suit, such an ass in so 
 good a fortune." Cf. Overbury's Characters ("Of a Fine 
 Gentleman") : '* If all men were of his mind, all honesty 
 would be out of fashion ; he withers his clothes on the 
 •tage as a salesman is forced to do his suits in Birchen 
 Lane." Also in fVits' Recreations : — 
 
 •• 'Tis like apparel! made in Birchen-lane 
 If any please to suit themselves and wear it." 
 
 206: 31. Tobacco-shop in Fleet-street . . . afternoone- 
 — Tobacconists in Dekker's time provided the pipe and 
 tobacco at so much a pipeful. 
 
 209: 17. Some hunt the Unicorne for the treasure on his 
 head. — The fabled beast, the Unicorn, was said to have a 
 rare jewel at the root of his horn. 
 
 217 : 225. Falconers. — This is doubtless a true picture 
 of the manner in which many of the dedications upon 
 Elizabethan volumes were worked up. Names of most 
 obscure country knights and squires were puffed up to 
 the skies as being those of men who were nothing short 
 of latter-day Maecenases. 
 
 218 : 2. Djctcr Doddipols. — This is an allusion to the 
 farcical comedy of The Wisdom of Dr Doddipol^ entered on 
 the Stationers' Registers, October 7, 1600, and played by 
 the children of St. Paul's soon after. Dekker refers to 
 the play in Satiromastix and Old Fortunatus. In the 
 latter Andelocia says, "Whilst thou art commencing thy 
 knavery there, I'll precede Dr Doudipoll here." 
 
 227: '^. J acke f the Clocke-hcuse. — Seea/:rf,p. 34,1. i,and 
 cf. Cotgrave, who, under the term " Fretillion," defines 
 it as "a little nimble dwarfe, or hop o' my thumb, a 
 Jacke of the Clocke-house." 
 
 236 : 22. Gipsies. — This is one of the earliest de- 
 scriptions extant in literature of the Gipsies. In Scot- 
 land, a year or two later, the twentieth Parliament of 
 James VI. had to deal with the nuisance caused by their 
 presence in the country, and accordingly ordained 
 (Cap. 13) that "the vagabounds, sorners and common 
 thiefes, commonlie called Egiptians, should pass furth of
 
 NOTES 289 
 
 this kingdom and remaine perpetuallie furth thereof, and 
 never to returne within ye samcn un der the pain of 
 death, and that ye samen have force and execution after 
 ye first day of August next to come (1609)." The gipsies 
 were always a trouble in Scotland. Cf- Sir Walter 
 Scott's novel of Guy Mannering, with the notes thereon. 
 
 238 : 32. any mad Hamlet. — Another tribute to the 
 undying popularity of Shakespeare's masterpiece. Dekker 
 was writing in 1608, while Hamlet had been produced 
 seven years before. 
 
 244 : 28. the Straytes. — The Straits of Gibraltar. 
 
 244: 29. Scanderoon = tht Port of Aleppo in the ex- 
 treme N.E. of the Levant. 
 
 244 : 32. Bristow. — Bristol. Cf. the ballad of the 
 Bristowe merchant. 
 
 258 : 24. Sanies his curtail. — Banks and his calcu- 
 lating or reasoning horse, which created great interest at 
 this time. 
 
 270 : 5. olde Jeronimo. — A reference to the popular 
 tragedy of the period called Jeronimo^ with a second part 
 or sequel entitled The Spanish Tragedy. Old Jeronimo, 
 Marshal of Spain, hearing an outcry at midnight in his 
 garden, rises from bed, and proceeding to the place whence 
 the noise seemed to come, finns his son Horatio murdered. 
 The murderers were friends of his own, who desired that 
 the lady Belimperia, who was in love with Horatio, 
 should marry Balthazar, son of the Viceroy of Portugal. 
 The author of the play was Thomas Kyd, a well-known 
 dramatist of the time. 
 
 272 : I. fardels. — This word suggests the question in 
 
 Hamlet's famous soliloquy, " Who would fardels bear ?' 
 
 272 : 27. Table Bookes. — Tablets or note-books. Cf. 
 
 Hamlet, II. ii. 136, where that arch courtier, Polonius, 
 
 says : — 
 
 "... What might you, 
 Or my dear majesty your queen here, think 
 If I had played the desk or table-book. "
 
 Index 
 
 Abraham Men, 98 
 
 Adam and Eve s clothing, 15, 23 
 
 Anglers, 93 
 
 Autem Morts, 105 
 
 Barnard's Law, 119 
 Beggary, Oration in praise of, 87 
 Bellman, the, of London, 109 
 Black Art, 129 
 
 Cheaters, 113 
 
 Clapperdudgeons or Palliards, 97 
 Cocknies, 58 
 Cooks, 14 
 
 Counterfeit Cranks, 100 
 Country-life, advantages of, 72 
 Courbing Law, 131 
 Courtiers, 8 
 
 Dells and Dopers, 103 
 
 Dice, false, 114 
 
 Dicing, 44 
 
 Diet of the Satumian Age, 16 
 
 Doxies, 104 
 
 Dressing, manner of, 25 
 
 Duke Humfrey's Walk, 36 
 
 Dummerars, loi 
 
 Figging Law, 145 
 Fraters, 97 
 
 Gallant, the, at Paul's, 34 ; at 
 the Ordinary, 41 ; at the Play- 
 house, 47 ; at the Tavern, 54 ; 
 in the street, 60 ; in Paul's 
 Churchyard, 63 
 
 Ginglers, 247 
 
 Gipsies, 236 
 
 Glymmering Morts, 106 
 Gul-Groping, 199, 203 
 
 Hair-dressing, 27 
 Head, th;, and its organs, 27 
 High Law, 141 
 Horse Coursers, 250. 
 
 Jacke-in-a-Boxe, 257 
 Jacks of the Clock-house, 226 
 Jack-men, 101 
 
 KiNCHiNG Morts, 103 
 Kinchyn Goes, 103 
 Kit Woodroffe, 37 
 
 Late rising, the benefit of, 2x 
 Lifting Law, 137 
 
 Manners, 23 
 Moon-men, 235 
 
 Ordinary, how to swagger in an, 
 41 ; fashions of the, 201 
 
 Palliards or Clapperdudgeons, 
 
 97. 
 Patnccs, loi 
 Paul's Steeple, 37 _ 
 Phj-sic, Ars homicidiarum, 20 
 Playhouse, the Gallant at the, 47 
 Priggers, 134 
 Pnggers of Prancers, 96 
 Prigging Law, 133 
 
 Quire birds, 98 
 
 Ragged Regiment, 81 
 
 290
 
 INDEX 
 
 291 
 
 Rank Riders, 2a8 
 
 Rogues, 94 
 
 Rogues, Orders of, 177 
 Rufflers, 92 
 Rusticity, 13 
 
 Sacking Law, 143 
 Salutation, manner of, 34 
 Sanctuary in Paul's, 35 
 Slang terms, 84, 85 
 Sleep, 19 
 Swigmen, 102 
 
 TAViiRN, the Gallant at the, 54, 59 
 
 J aylors, 14 
 Thieves' slang, 145, i 
 
 322, 229, 262 
 Thieves' tricks 151, 2 
 Tobacco, 12, 33, 43 
 Tower of Babel, 175 
 Toyles, Irish, 102 
 
 Upright Men, 90 
 
 Vincent's Law, 125 
 
 Whip-Jacks, 99 
 Woodpeckers, 205 
 
 THE END 
 
 Maoi At Thb ^. 
 
 TeMPLS PR6S5 1, / LCTCnvfORTM 
 
 -^-^if-^^^-H Great Britaui
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY, LOS ANGEL 
 
 COLLEGE LIBRARY 
 
 . - , This book is due on the last date stamped below. 
 
 jok i5lip-lU?/t-5,'58 (3727 !i4) 4260
 
 Un^efsity ot Calitotn.a 
 
 .OS Angeies 
 
 „ Jlllll , 
 
 ■ 005 441 078 2 
 
 college 
 Library 
 
 PR 
 22h3 
 
 copo3 
 
 B 000 011 742 4
 
 « 
 
 
 IS^