We mounted again, and full soberly riding,
Three miles we had rid e'er we met with a biding;
But there (having over night plied the tap well)
We now must needs water at place call'd Holmes
Chapel :
[the house?"

"A hay!" quoth the foremost, "ho! who keeps
Which said, out an host comes as brisk as a louse;
His hair comb'd as sleek as a barber he'd been,
A cravat with black ribbon ty'd under his chin;
Tho' by what I saw in him, I straight 'gan to fear
That knot would be one day slipp'd under his ear.
Quoth he, (with low congee) "What lack you,
[afford."

my lord:"

"The best liquor," quoth I," that the house will "You shall straight," quoth he; and then calls

out, "Mary,

Come quickly, and bring us a quart of Canary." "Hold, hold, my spruce host! for i' th' morning

so early,

I never drink liquor but what's made of barley." Which words were scarce out, but, which made me admire,

My lordship was presently turn'd into 'squire: Ale, 'squire, you mean?" quoth he nimbly again, "What, must it be purl'd ?"-" No, I love it best plain." [advice,

"Why, if you'll drink ale, sir, pray take my Here's the best ale i' th' land, if you'll go to the price;

Better, I sure am, ne'er blew out a stopple;
But then, in plain truth, it is sixpence a bottle."
Why, faith," quoth I, "friend, if your liquor
be such,

For the best ale in England, it is not too much : Let's have it, and quickly.""" O sir! you may

stay;

A pot in your pate is a mile in your way:
Come, bring out a bottle here presently, wife,

Of the best Cheshire hum he e'er drank in his life." Straight out comes the mistress in waistcoat of silk,

As clear as a milkmaid, and white as her milk,
With visage as oval and sleek as an egg,

As straight as an arrow, as right as my leg :
A curtsey she made, as demure as a sister,
I could not forbear, but alighted and kiss her:
Then ducking another with most modest mien,
The first word she said, was, "Will't please you

walk in ?"

I thank'd her; but told her, I then could not stay,
For the haste of my bus'ness did call me away.
She said, she was sorry it fell out so odd,
But if, when again I should travel that road,
I would stay there a night, she assur'd me the
nation

Should no where afford better accommodation:
Meanwhile my spruce landlord has broken the cork,
And call'd for a bodkin, though he had a fork;
But I show'd him a screw, which I told my brisk
gull

A trepan was for bottles had broken their scull;
Which, as it was true, he believ'd without doubt,
But 'twas I that apply'd it, and pull'd the cork out.
Bounce, quoth the bottle, the work being done,
It roar'd, and it smok'd, like a new fir'd gun;
But the shot miss'd us all, or else we'd been routed,
Which yet was a wonder, we were so about it.
Mine host pour'd and fill'd, till he could fill no
fuller:
[for colour,
"Look here, sir," quoth he, "both for nap and

And have drank so much liquor has made me a In my days, that I know of, I never drank better: We found it so good, and we drank so profoundly, That four good round shillings were whipt away roundly;

And then I conceiv'd it was time to be jogging, For our work had been done, had we staid t'other noggin,

From thence we set forth with more mettle and spright,

Our horses were empty, our coxcombs were light; O'er Dellamore forest we, tantivy, posted,

Till our horses were basted as if they were roasted:
In truth, we pursu'd might have been by our haste,
And I think sir George Booth did not gallop so fast,
Till about two o'clock after noon, God be blest,
We came, safe and sound, all to Chester i' th' west.
And now in high time 'twas to call for some meat,
Though drinking does well, yet some time we
must eat;

And i'faith we had victuals both plenty and good,
Where we all laid about us as if we were wood:
Go thy ways, mistress Anderton, for a good wo-
[mon;
Thy guests shall by thee ne'er be turn'd to a com-
And whoever of thy entertainment complains,
Let him lie with a drab, and be pox'd for his pains.

man,

And here I must stop the career of my Muse, The poor jade is weary, 'las! how should she choose!

And if I should farther here spur on my course,
I should, questionless, tire both my wits and my
horse:

To night let us rest, for 'tis good Sunday's even,
To morrow to church, and ask pardon of Heaven,
Thus far we our time spent, as here I have penn'd it,
An odd kind of life, and 'tis well if we mend it:
But to morrow (God willing) we'll have t'other

bout,

When having twelve ounces, he bound up my arm, And I gave him two Georges, which did him no harm:

But after my bleeding, I soon understood
It had cool'd my devotion as well as my blood;
For I had no more mind to look on my psalter,
Than (saving your presence) I had to a halter;
But, like a most wicked and obstinate sinner,
Then sat in my chamber till folks came to dinner:
I din'd with good stomach, and very good cheer,
With a very fine woman, and good ale and beer;
When myself having stuff'd than a bag-pipe
more full,

I fell to my smoking until I grew dull;
And, therefore, to take a fine nap thought it best,
For when belly full is, bones would be at rest:
I tumbled me down on my ted like a swad,
Where, O! the delicious dream that I had!
Till the bells, that had been my morning mo-
lesters,

Now wak'd me again, chiming all in to vespers;
With that starting up, for my man I did whistle,
And comb'd out and powder'd my locks that were
grizle;

Had my clothes neatly brush'd, and then put on my sword,

Resolv'd now to go and attend on the word.

Thus trick'd, and thus trim, to set forth I begin, Neat and cleanly without, but scarce cleanly within;

For why, Heaven knows it, I long time had been
A most humble obedient servant to sin:
And now in devotion was even so proud,

I scorned (forsooth) to join pray'r with the crowd;
For though courted by all the bells as I went,
I was deaf, and regarded not the compliment,
But to the cathedral still held on my pace,
As 'twere, scorning to kneel but in the best place.
I there made myself sure of good music at least,
But was something deceiv'd, for 'twas none of

the best:

But, however, I staid at the church's commanding Till we came to the peace passes all understanding, Which no sooner was ended, but whir and away, Like boys in a school when they've leave got to play;

All save master mayor, who still gravely stays Till the rest had left room for his worship and's

mace:

Then he and his brethren in order appcar,
I out of my stall, and fell into his rear;
For why, 'tis much safer appearing, no doubt,
In authority's tail, than the head of a rout.

In this rev'rend order we marched from pray'r;
The mace before me bone as well as the may'r;
Who looking behind him, aud seeing most plain
A glorious gold belt in the rear of his train,
Made such a low congé, forgetting his place,
I was never so honour'd before in my days:
But then off went my scalp case, and down went
my fist,
[kist;
Till the pavement, too hard, by my knuckles was
By which, though thick-scull'd, he must under-
stand this,

That I was a most humble servant of his; Which also so wonderful kindly he took, (As I well perceiv'd both b' his gesture and look) That to have me dogg'd home he straightway appointed,

Resolving, it seems, to be better acquainted.

I was scarce in my quarters, and set down on crupper, [per:

But his man was there too, to invite me to sup I start up, and after most respective fashion Gave his worship much thanks for his kind invitation;

But begg'd his excuse, for my stomach was small,
And I never did eat any supper at all;
But that after supper I would kiss his hands,
And would come to receive his worship's com
mands.

Sure no one will say, but a patron of slander,
That this was not pretty well for a Moorlander:
And since on such reasons to sup I refus'd,
I nothing did doubt to be holden excus'd;
But my quaint repartée bad his worship possest
With so wonderful good a conceit of the rest,
That with mere impatience he hop'd in his
breeches
[speeches
To see the fine fellow that made such fine
Go, sirrah!" quoth he, "get you to him again,
And will and require, in his majesty's name,
That he come; and tell him, obey he were best, or
I'll teach him to know that he's now in West-
Chester."

The man, upon this, comes me running again,
But yet mine'd his message, and was not so plain;
Saying to me only, "Good sir, I am sorry
To tell you my master has sent again for you;
And has such a longing to have you his guest,
That I, with these ears, heard him swear and
protest,

[bum,
He would neither say grace, nor sit down on his
Nor open his napkin, until you do come."
With that I perceiv'd no excuse would avail,
And, seeing there was no defence for a flail,
I said I was ready master may'r to obey,
And therefore desir'd him to lead me the way.
We went, and ere Malkin could well lick her car,
(For it but the next door was, forsooth) we were

there;

[stairs, Where lights being brought me, I mounted the The worst I e'er saw in my life at a mayor's; But every thing else must be highly commended. I there found his worship most nobly attended, Besides such a supper as well did convince, A may'r in his province to be a great prince: As he sat in his chair, he did not much vary, In state nor in face, from our eighth English

Harry;

But whether his face was swell'd up with fat,
Or puff'd up with glory, I cannot tell that.
Being enter'd the chamber half length of a pike,
And cutting of faces exceedingly like (Indies,
One of those little gentlemen brought from the
And screwing myself into congees and cringes,
By then I was half way advanc'd in the room,
His worship most rev'rendly rose from his bum,
And with the more honour to grace and to greet

me,

Advanc'd a whole step and an half for to meet me;
Where leisurely doffing a hat worth a tester,
He bade me most heartily welcome to Chester.
I thank'd him in language the best I was able,
And so we forthwith sat us all down to table.

By which you may note, that either the m was mistaken, or the mayor was not so good as his word, when he said he would not sit down till I

came.

Now here you must note, and 'tis worth observation,

That as his chair at one end o' th' table had station; So sweet mistress may'ress, in just such another, Like the fair queen of hearts, sat in state at the other;

By which I perceiv'd, though it seemed a riddle, The lower end of this must be just in the middle: But perhaps 'tis a rule there, and one that would mind it

Amongst the town-statutes 'tis likely might find it. But now into th' pottage each deep his spoon claps, As in truth one might safely for burning one's chaps,

When straight, with the look and the tone of a scold, [cold;

Mistress may'ress complain'd that the pottage was
"And all long of your fiddle-faddle," quoth she.
"Why, what then, Goody Two-shoes, what if it
be?
[he.
Hold you, if you can, your tittle-tattle," queth
I was glad she was snapp'd thus, and guess'd by
th' discourse,

The may'r, not the gray mare, was the better horse.
And yet for all that, there is reason to fear,
She submitted but out of respect to his year:
However, 'twas well she had now so much grace,
Though not to the man, to submit to his place;
For had she proceeded, I verily thought
My turn would the next be, for I was in fault:
But this brush being past, we fell to our diet,
And ev'ry one there fill'd his belly in quiet.

Supper being ended, and things away taken, Master mayor's curiosity 'gan to awaken; Wherefore making me draw something nearer his chair,

He will'd and requir'd me there to declare My country, my birth, my estate, and my parts, And whether I was not a master of arts;

And eke what the bus'ness was had brought me thither,

With what I was going about now, and whither:
Giving me caution, no lie should escape me,
For if I should trip, he should certainly trap me.
I answer'd, my country was fam'd Staffordshire;
That in deeds, bills, and bonds, I was ever writ
squire;

That of land, I had both sorts, some good, and
some evil,
[Devil;

But that a great part on't was pawn'd to the That as for my parts, they were such as he saw; That, indeed, I had a small smatt'ring of law, Which I lately had got more by practice than reading, [ing; By sitting o' th' bench, whilst others were pleadBut that arms I had ever more study'd than arts, And was now to a captain rais'd by my deserts; That the bus'ness which led me through Palatine ground

Into Ireland was, whither now I was bound; Where his worship's great favour I loud will proclain,

And in all other places wherever I came.
He said, as to that, I might do what I list,
But that I was welcome, and gave me his fist;
When having my fingers made crack with his

Perhaps would be tedious; I'll therefore remit ye
Even to the most rev'rend records of the city,
Where, doubtless, the acts of the may'rs are
recorded,

And if not more truly, yet much better worded.
In short, then, we pip'd, and we tippled Canary,
Till my watch pointed one in the circle horary;
When thinking it now was high time to depart,
His worship I thank'd with a most grateful heart;
And because to great men presents are acceptable,
I presented the may'r, ere I rose from the table,
With a certain fantastical box and a stopper;
And he having kindly accepted my offer,
I took my fair leave, such my visage adorning,
And to bed, for I was to rise early i' th' morning.

CANTO III.

THE Sun in the morning disclosed his light,
With complexion as ruddy as mine over night;
And o'er th' eastern mountains peeping up's head,
The casement being open, espy'd me in bed;
With his rays he so tickled my lids that I wak'd,
And was half asham'd, for I found myself nak'd;
But up I soon start, and was dress'd in a trice,
And call'd for a draught of ale, sugar, and spice;
Which having turn'd off, then call to pay,
And packing my nawls, whipp'd to horse, and
away.

A guide I had got, who demanded great vails,
For conducting me over the mountains of Wales:
Twenty good shillings, which sure very large is;
Yet that would not serve, but I must bear his

The one for a horse, and the other an ass. But now with our horses, what sound and what rotten, [gotten; Down to the shore, you must know, we were And there we were told, it concern'd us to ride, Unless we did mean to encounter the tide ; And then my guide lab'ring with heels and with bands, [sands, With two up and one down, hopp'd over the Till his horse, finding th' labour for three legs too

sore,

Fol'd out a new leg, and then he had four:

said,

But we, by good luck, before him got thither, He else would have carried us, no man knows whither.

And now her in Wales is, saint Taph be her speed, [need; Gott splutter her taste, some Welch ale her had For her ride in great haste, and was like shit her breeches,

For fear of her being catch'd up by the fishes: But the lord of Flint castie's no lord worth a louse, [house;

For he keeps ne'er a drop of good drink in his But in a small house near unto't there was store Of such ale as (thank God) I ne'er tasted before; And surely the Welch are not wise of their fuddle, For this had the taste and complexion of puddle From thence then we march'd, full as dry as we

came,

My guide before prancing, his steed no more lame, O'er hills and o'er vallies uncouth and uneven, Until 'twixt the hours of twelve and eleven,

And 'tis true, for I heard folks' teeth hack in their head; [whores For you are to know, that the rogues and the Are not let to pollute the spring-head with their

sores.

But one thing I chiefly admir'd in the place,
That a saint, and a virgin, endu'd with such grace,
Should yet be so wonderful kind a well-willer
To that whoring and filching trade of a miller,
As within a few paces to furnish the wheels
Of I cannot tell how many water-mills:
I've study'd that point much, you cannot guess
why,
[than L
But the virgin was, doubtless, more righteous
And now for my welcome, four, five, or six lasses,
With as many crystalline liberal glasses,
Did all importune me to drink of the water
Of saint Winifreda, good Thewith's fair daughter.
A while I was doubtful, and stood in a muse,
Not knowing, amidst all that choice, where to
choose,

Till a pair of black eyes, darting full in my sight,
From the rest o' th' fair maidens did carry me quite;
I took the glass from her, and, whip, off it went,
I half doubt I fancy'd a health to the saint:

I saw,

By the cripples lay there; but I went to my inn
To speak for some meat, for so stomach did motion,
Before I did farther proceed in devotion:
I went into th' kitchen, where victuals I
Both beef, veal, and mutton, but all on't was raw;
And some on't alive, but it soon went to slaughter,
For four chickens were slain by my dame and her
daughter;

Of which to saint Win. ere my vows I had paid,
They said I should find a rare fricasée made:
I thank'd them, and straight to the well did repair,
Where some I found cursing, and others at
pray'r;

Some dressing, some stripping, some out and some
in,
[seen;
Some naked, where botches and boils might be
Of which some were fevers of Venus I'm sure,
And therefore unfit for the virgin to cure:
But the fountain, in truth, is well worth the sight,
The beautiful virgin's own tears not more bright;
Nay, none but she ever shed such a tear,
Her conscience, her name, nor herself, were more
clear.

In the bottom there lie certain stones that look
white,
[light,
But streak'd with pure red, as the morning with
Which they say is her blood, and so it may be,
But for that, let who shed it look to it for me.
Over the fountain a chapel there stands,
Which I wonder has 'scap'd master Oliver's hands;
The floor's not ill par'd, and the margin o' th'
spring

Is enclos'd with a certain octagonal ring
From each angle of which a pillar does rise,
Of strength and of thickness enough to suffice
To support and uphold from falling to ground
A cupola where with the virgin is crown'd.
Now 'twixt the two angles, that fork to the north,
And where the cold nymph does her bason pour
forth,

For St. Winifred made most delicate water.
I slipp'd a hard shilling into her soft hand,
Which had like to have made me the place have

profan'd;

And giving two more to the poor that were there, Did, sharp as a hawk, to my quarters repair.

My dinner was ready, and to it I fell,

I never ate better meat that I can tell,
When having half din'd, there comes in my host,
A catholic good, and a rare drunken toast:
This man, by his drinking, inflamed the Scot,
And told me strange stories, which I have forgot;
But this I remember, 'twas much on's own life,
And one thing, that he had converted his wife.

But now my guide told me, it time was to go, For that to cur beds we must both ride and row; Wherefore calling to pay, and having accounted, I soon was down stairs, and as suddenly mounted: On then we travell'd, our guide still before, Sometimes on three legs and sometimes on four, Coasting the sea, and over hills crawling, Sometimes on all four, for fear we should fall in; For underneath Neptune lay skulking to watch

us,

And, had we but slipp'd once, was ready to catch us.
Thus in places of danger taking more heed,
And in safer travelling mending our speed:
Redland Castle and Abergoney we past,
And o'er against Connaway came at the last:
Just over against a castle there stood,

O' th' right hand the town, and o' th' left hand a
wood;
[water
'Twixt the wood and the castle they see at high
The storm, the place makes it a dangerous matter;
And besides, upon such a steep rock it is founded,
As would break a man's neck, should he 'scape
being drowned:

Perhaps tho' in time one may make them to yield, But 'tis pretti'st Cob-castle e'er I beheld.

The Sun now was going t'unharness his steeds, When the ferry-boat brasking her sides 'gainst the weeds,

Came in as good time, as good time could be,
To give us a cast o'er an arm of the sea;
And bestowing our horses before and abaft,
O'er god Neptune's wide cod-piece gave us a waft;
Where scurvily landing at foot of the fort,
Within very few paces we enter'd the port,
Where another King's Head invited me down,
For indeed I have ever been true to the crown.

THE STORM.

TO THE EARL OF

How with ill nature does this world abound!
When I, who ever thought myself most sound,
And free from that infection, now must choose
Out you, (my lord) whom least I should abuse
To trouble with a tempest, who have none
In your firm breast t' afflict you of your own:
Bot since of friendship it the nature is,
In any accident that falls amiss,

Whether of sorrow, terrour, loss, or pain,
Caus'd or by men or fortune, to complain
To those who of our ills have deepest sense,
And in whose favour we've most confidence,
Pardon, if in a storm I here engage
Your calmer thoughts, and on a sea, whose rage,
When but a little mov'd, as far outbraves
The tamer mutinies of Adria's waves,
As they, when worst for Neptune to appease,
The softest curls of most pacific seas;
And though I'm vain enough half to believe
My danger will some little trouble give,
I yet more vainly fancy 'twill advance
Your pleasure too, for my deliverance.

'Twas now the time of year, of all the rest, For slow but certain navigation best ;

The Earth had dress'd herself so fine and gay,
That all the world, our little world, was May;
The Sea, too, had put on his smoothest face,
Clear, sleek, and even as a looking-glass;
The rugged winds were lock'd up in their jails,
And were but Zephyrs whisper'd in the sails;
All nature seem'd to court us to our woe;
Good God! can elements dissemble too?
Whilst we, secure, consider'd not the whiles
That greatest treasons lie conceal'd in smiles.
Aboard we went, and soon were under sail,
But with so small an over-modest gale,
And to our virgin canvass so unkind,
As not to swell their laps with so much wind,
As common courtship would in breeding pay
To maids less buxom and less trim than they.
But of this calm we could not long complain,
For scarcely were we got out to the main
From the still harbour but a league, no more,
When the false wind (that seem'd so chaste before)
The ship's lac'd smock began to stretch and tear,
Not like a suitor, but a ravisher;

As if delight were lessen'd by consent,
And tasted worse for being innocent.
A sable curtain, in a little space,

Of thick wove clouds, was drawn o'er Phoebus' face,
He might not see the horrour of the fight,
Nor we the comfort of his heav'nly light:
Then, as this darkness had the signal been,
At which the furious storm was to begin,

Heaven's loud artillery began to play,
And with pale flashes made a dreadful day:
The centre shook by these, the ocean
In hills of brine to swell and heave began;
Which growing mountains, as they rolling hit,
To surge and foam, each other broke and split,
Like men, who, in intesti e storms of state,
Strike any they nor know, nor yet for what;
But with the stream of fury headlong run
To war, they know not how nor why begun.
In this disorder straight the winds forlorn,
Which had lain ambush d all the flatt'ring morn,
With unexpected fury rushes in,

The ruffing skirmish rudely to begin;
The sea with thunder-claps alarm'd before,
Assaulted thus anew, began to roar

In waves, that striving which should fastest run,
Crouded themselves into contusion.

At which advantage Eolus brought on
His large spread wings, and main battalion,
When by opposing shores the flying foe
Fore'd back against the enemy to flow,
So great a conflict follow'd, as if here
Th enraged enemies embattled were ;
Not only one another to subdue,

But to destroy themselves and nature too.
To paint this horrour to the life, weak art
Must want a band, humanity a heart;
And I, the bare relation whilst I make,
Methinks am brave, my hand still does not shake;
For surely since men first in planks of wood
Themselves committed to the faithless flood,
Men born and bred at sea, did ne'er behold
Neptune in such prodigious furrows roll'd;
Those winds, which with the lou est terrour

roar,

Never so stretch'd their lungs and cheeks before;
Nor on this floating stage has ever been
So black a scene of dreadful ruin seen.

Poor yacht! in such a sea how canst thou live?
What ransom would not thy pale tenants give
To be set down on the most desp'rate shore,
Where serpents hiss, tigers and lions roar?
And where the men, inhuman savages,
Are yet worse vermin, greater brutes, than these!
Who would not for a danger that may be
Exchange a certain ruin that they see?
For such, unto our reason, or our fear,
Ours did in truth most manifest appear;
And how could we expect a better end,
When winds and seas seem'd only to contend,
Not which should conquer other in this war,
But in our wreck which should have greatest
share?

The winds were all let loose upon the main,
And every wind that blew a hurricane,
Nereus' whole pow'r too muster'd seem'd to be,
Wave rode on wave, and every wave a sea.

Of our small bark gusts rush'd the trembling

sides

Against vast billows that contain'd whole tides,
Which in disdainful fury beat her back
With such a force, as made her stout sides crack,
'Gainst others that in crowds came rolling in,
As if they meant their liquid walls between
T'engage the wretched hulk, and crush her flat,
And make her squeeze to death her dying freight.
Sometimes she on a mountain's ridge would ride,
And from that height her gliding keel then slid