CITY HUNTING

THIS ferret hunting hath his seasons as other games have, and is followed at such a time of year, when the gentry of our kingdom, by riots, having chased themselves out of the fair revenues 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 windless, by running after sensual pleasures too fiercely, they are glad (for keeping themselves in breath so long as they can) to fall to ferret hunting, that is to say, to take up commodities.

No warrant can be granted for a buck in this forest, but it must pass under these five hands.

1. He that hunts up and down to find game, is called the tumbler.

2. The commodities that are taken up are called purse-nets. 3. The citizen that sells them is the ferret.

4. They that take up are the rabbit-suckers.

5. He upon whose credit these rabbit-suckers run, is called the

warren.

HOW THE WARREN IS MADE

AFTER a rain, conies use to come out of their holes and to sit nibbling on weeds or anything in the cool of the evening, and after a revelling 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 will take up any commodity whatsoever, but their names stand in too many texted letters already in mercers' and scriveners' books: upon a hundred pounds worth of roasted beef they could find in

their hearts to venture, for that would away in turning of a hand: but where shall they find a butcher or a cook that will let any man run so much upon the score for flesh only?

Suppose therefore that four of such loose-fortuned gallants were tied in one knot, and knew not how to fasten themselves upon some wealthy citizen. At the length it runs into their heads that such a young novice (who daily serves to fill up their company) was never entangled in any city lime-bush: they know his present means to be good, and those to come to be great: him therefore they lay upon the anvil of their wits, till they have wrought him like wax, for himself as well as for them to do anything in wax, or indeed till they have won him to slide upon this ice, (because he knows not the danger) is he easily drawn: for he considers within himself that they are all gentlemen well descended, they have rich fathers, they wear good clothes, have been gallant spenders, and do now and then (still) let it fly freely: he is to venture upon no more rocks than all they, what then should he fear? he therefore resolves to do it, and the rather because his own exhibition runs low, and that there lack a great many weeks to the quarter day; at which time he shall be refurnished from his father.

The match being agreed upon, one of them that has been an old ferret-monger, and knows all the tricks of such hunting seeks out a tumbler, that is to say a fellow, who beats the bush for them till they catch the birds, he himself being contented (as he protests and swears) only with a few feathers.

THE TUMBLER'S HUNTING DRY-FOOT

THIS tumbler being let loose runs snuffing up and down close to the ground, in the shops either of mercers, goldsmiths, drapers, haberdashers, or of any other trade, where he thinks he may meet with a ferret and though upon his very first course he can find his game, yet to make his gallants more hungry, and to think he wearies himself in hunting the more, he comes to them sweating and swearing that the city ferrets are so coaped (that is to say, have their lips stitched up so close) that he can hardly get them open to so great a sum as five hundred pounds which they desire,

This herb being chewed down by the rabbit-suckers almost kills their hearts, and is worse to them than nabbing on the necks to conies. They bid him if he cannot fasten his teeth upon plate or cloth, or silks, to lay hold on brown paper or tobacco, Bartholomew babies, lute-strings, or hob-nails, or two hundred pounds in Saint Thomas onions, and the rest in money; the onions they could get wenches enough to cry and sell them by the rope, and what remains should serve them with mutton. Upon this, their tumbler trots up and down again, and at last lighting on a citizen that will deal, the names are received, and delivered to a scrivener, who enquiring whether they be good men and true that are to pass upon the life and death of five hundred pounds, finds that four of the five are wind-shaken, and ready to fall into the Lord's hands. Marry the fifth man is an oak and there is hope that he cannot be hewed down in haste. Upon him therefore the citizen builds so much as comes to five hundred pounds, yet takes in the other four to make them serve as scaffolding, till the farm be furnished, and if then it hold, he cares not greatly who takes them down. In all haste are the bonds sealed, and the commodities delivered. And then does the tumbler fetch his second career, and that's this.

THE TUMBLER'S HUNTING COUNTER

THE wares which they fished for being in the hand of the five sharers, do now more trouble their wits how to turn those wares into ready money, than before they were troubled to turn their credits into wares. The tree being once more to be shaken, they know it must lose fruit, and therefore their factor must barter away their merchandise, though it be with loss: abroad is into the city he sails for that purpose, and deals with him that sold, to buy his own commodities again for ready money. He will not do it under £30 loss in the hundred other archers' bows are tried at the same mark, but all keep much about one scantling: back therefore comes their carrier with this news, that no man will disburse so much present money upon any wares whatsoever, Only he met by good fortune with one friend (and that friend is himself) who for £10 will procure them a chapman: marry, that chapman will not buy unless he may have them at £30 loss in the

hundred. Fuh, cry all the sharers, a plague on these fox-furred curmudgeons, give that fellow, your friend, £10 for his pains, and fetch the rest of his money. Within an hour after, it is brought and poured down in one heap upon a tavern table; where making a goodly show as if it could never be spent, all of them consult what fee the tumbler is to have for hunting so well, and conclude that less than £10 they cannot give him, which 10 is the first money told out. Now let us cast up: in every hundred pounds is lost thirty which being five times £30 makes £150: that sum the ferret puts up clear besides his over-pricing the wares; unto which £150 lost, add £10 more, which the tumbler gulls them of, and other £10 which he hath for his voyage, all which makes £170; which deducted from £500 there remaineth only £330 to be divided amongst five, so that every one of the partners shall have but £66. Yet this they all put up merrily, washing down their losses with sack and sugar, whereof they drink that night profoundly.

(From Lanthorne and Candle Light.)

THE DOVE

THE dove was the first bird that being sent out of Noah his ark, brought comfort to Noah: so prayer being sent out of the ark of our bodies, is the only and first bringer of comfort to us from Heaven. The dove went out twice ere it could find an olive branch (which was the ensign of peace): so our prayers must fly up again and again, and never leave beating at the doors of Heaven, till they fetch from thence the olive branch of God's mercy, in sign that we are at peace with Him, and that He hath pardoned our sins. The dove no sooner brought that bough of good tidings into the ark, but the universal flood fell, and sunk into the bowels of the deep so no sooner do our hearty prayers pierce the bosom of the Lord Almighty, but the waters of His indignation shrink away, melting to nothing like hills of snow, and the universal deluge of sin that floweth forty days and nights together (that is to say, every hour, or all our life time) to drown both soul and body, is driven back, and ebbs into the bottomless gulf of hell. The dove is said to be without gall: our prayers must be without bitterness, and not to the hurt of our neighbour (for such prayers are curses) lest we pull down vengeance on our

heads. Such was the dove that Noah sent out of the ark; with such wings let our prayers carry up our messages to Heaven. (From Four Birds of Noah's Ark.)

THE PELICAN

The

THE third bird that I call out of Noah's ark, is the pelican. The nature of the pelican is to peck her own bosom, and with the drops of her blood to feed her young ones; so in our prayers we must (in the love that we bear to God) beat at our breasts till (with the bleeding drops of a contrite and repentant heart) we have fed our souls with the nourishment of everlasting life. pelican is content to yield up her own life to save others: so in our prayers, we must be willing to yield up all the pleasures of the world, and to kill all the desires of the body for the preservation of the soul. As Christ therefore suffered abuses before His death, and agonies at the time of His death (both of them being to the number principally of ten) so (because our pelican is a figure of Him in His passion) doth this third bird take ten flights; at every flight her wings bearing up a prayer, to defend us from those sins for which Christ died. The abuses and agonies which Christ put up and suffered (being in number ten) are these : First, the betraying of Him by one of His own servants : Secondly, the buffeting of Him, and scourging Him in the open hall by His own nation Thirdly, His arraignment and condemnation, when nothing could be proved against Him: Fourthly, the compelling of Him to carry His own cross, when already He had undertaken to carry on His back all our sins: Fifthly, the nailing of Him to the tree of shame: Sixthly, the crowning of Him in scorn, with a crown of thorns: Seventhly, the hanging of two common thieves in His company: Eighthly, the giving of vinegar and gall to Him when He was thirsty: Ninthly, the sorrows of hell, which He felt when in the unspeakable anguish of His soul He was forced to cry, Eli, Eli, Lama Sabacthani. And lastly, the piercing of His glorious side with a spear. These are the ten wings with which Christ (our pelican) flew to His death. Now cast up your eyes and behold, and listen with your ears and hear, what ten notes our pelican maketh coming out of Noah's ark.

(From the Same.)