37 10 639 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/4225266dc5af1bed3d4bdf6087707263.pdf bf16f58d48269c03bd6ef790bae96667 PDF Text Text THE COMICAL H I S T O R Y OP THE K M AND THE GOBBLER; M M' Mr CONTAINING The Entertaining and Merry Tricks, and Droll Frolics, played by the Cobbler.—How he got acquainted with the King, became a great man, and lived at Court ever after. » A ars M M i " M SMS || li GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE i 56 BOOKSELLERS. �I' A - •<r"; ' 3JIT Y,GOTaiH JAOIMOO %I If' £ )1 E C 10 E 1 D7IXUTK0O HoiCIfrees,*jfcihT v/noM f ir ; ijiaijjif . i'u ! oiiT £ ^ ' k . j m ' <S • > £ 7 M. iw / 40a Oil woli .-f9ki<h') . Mil vij h >f nlq ,^>ii'oV»I Jr V, -m m Jatrig # mi ; ,£fli>l <h!j lisiw .fo-jtcw-v-p^R 'wto n m ' l in ha/ii Lou fete 1 • ' C; I 1 \ t ... ! t v> $I * •i'i m *« . # % • * T W I f;' T | j M: . Sh * : W008A J O .a a a j a a ? a o o « a n t h o a a a t k i a *i ? H ! • �THB COMICAL HISTORY OF THB KING AND THE COBBLER. How King Henry V I I I , used to visit the watches in the city, and how he became acquainted with a merry jovial Cobbler. IT was the custom of King Henry the Eight, to walk late in the night into the city disguised, to observe and take notice how the constables and watch performed their duty, not only in guarding the city gates, but also in diligently watching th,e inner parts of the city, that so they might, in a great measure, prevent those disturbances and casualties which too often happen in great and populous cities in the night; and this he did oftentimes, without the least discovery who he was, returning home to Whitehall early in the morningNow, on his return home through the Strand, be took notice of a certain cobbler who was constantly up at work, whistling and singing every �4 morning. The king was resolved to see him, and he acquainted with him, in order to which he immediately knocks the heel of his shoe by hitting it against a stone, and having so done, he bounced at the cobbler's stall. Who's there ? cries the cobbler. Here's one, cries the king. With that the cobbler opened the stall door, and the king asked him if he could put the heel on his shoe. Yes, that I can, says the cobbler: come in, honest fellow, and sit thee down by me, and I will do it for thee straight, the cobbler scraping his awls and old shoes to one side to make room for the king to sit down. The king being hardly able to forbear laughing at the kindness of the cobbler, asked him if there was not a house hard by that sold a cup of ale, and the people up ? Yes said the cobbler, there is an inn over the way, where I believe the folks are up, for the carriers go from thence very early in the morning With that the king borrowed an old shoe of the cobbler, and went over to the inn, desired the �5 cobbler would bring his shoe to him thither as soon as he had put on the heel again. The cobbler promised he would; so making what haste he could to put on the heel, he carries it over to the king, saying, honest blade, here is thy shoe again, and I warrant thee it will not come off in such haste again. Very well, says the king, what must you have for your pains ? A couple of pence, replied the cobbler. Well, said the king, seeing thou art an honest merry fellow, there is a tester for thee; come, sit down by me, I will drink a full pot with thee; come, here's a good health to the king. With all my heart, said the cobbler, I'll pledge thee were it in water. So the cobbler sat down by the king and was very merry, and drank off his liquor very freely; he likewise sung some of his merry songs and catches, whereat the king laughed heartily, and was very jocund and pleasant with the cobbler, telling him withal that his name was Harry Tudor, that he belonged to the court, and that if he �6 would come and see him there, he would make him very welcome, because he was a merry companion, and charged him not to forget his name, and to ask auy one for him about the court, and they would soon bring him to him; for, said the sing, I am very well known there. Now the cobbler little dreamt that he was the king that spake to him, much less that the king's name was Harry Tudor. Therefore, with a great deal of confidence, he stands up and puts off his hat, m&kes two or three scrapes with his foot, and gives the king many thanks, also telling him that he was one of the most honest fellows he ever met with in all his life time, and although he never had been at court, yet he should not be long before he would make a holy day to come and see him. Whereupon the king, paying for what they had drunk, would have taken his leave of the cobble? j but he, not being willing to part with him, took hold of his hand, and said, by my faith you must not go, you shall not go, you shall first go and see my poor habitation, I have there a tub of good brown ale that was never tapped yet, and you must go and taste it, for you are the most honest blade I ever met withal, and I �7 an honest merry companion with all my heart. C H A P . II. How the Cobbler entertained the King in las cellar, and of the disturbance they had like to hare had by his wife Joan. So the cobbler took the king with him over the way, where he had his cellar adjoining the stall, which was handsomely and neatly furnished for a man of his profession. Into the cellar he took the k i n g ; there, said he, sit down, you are welcome; but I must desire you to speak softly, for fear of waking my wife Joan, who lies hard by, (shewing the king a close bed. made neatly tij> at one corner of the cellar, much like a closet,) for if she should wake she will make our ears ring again. A t which speech of the cobbler's the king laughed, and told him he would be mindful and follow Ms directions. Whereupon the cobbler kindled up a fire, and �8 fetched out a brown loaf, from which, he cut a lusty toast, which he sat baking at the fire; then, he brought out his Chesire cheese. Now, says he, there is as much fellowship in eating as in drinking. Which made the king admire the honest freedom of the cobbler. So having eaten a bit the cobbler began. A health to all true hearts and merry companions; at which the king smiled, saying, friend I'll pledge thee. In this manner they ate and drank together till it was almost break of day ; the cobbler being very free with his liquor, and delighting the king with several of his old stories, insomuch that he was highly pleased with the manner of his entertainment; when, 011 a sudden, the cobblers wife Joan began to awake. I'faith, says the cobbler, you must begone, my wife Joan begings to grumble, she'll awake presently, and I would not for half the shoes in my shop she should find you here. Then taking the king by the hand, he led him up the stairs, saying, farewell honest friend, it shan't be long before I make a holyday to come and see thee at court. �9 Thou shalt be kindly welcome, replied the king, So they parted the king on his way to Whitehall, and the cobbler to his cellar, and there putting all things to rights before bis wife Joan got up, he went to work again, whistling and singing as merry as he used to be, being much satisfied that he happened on so good and jovial a companion, still pleasing himself in his thoughts how merry he should be when he came to court. C H A P . III. How the Cobbler prepared himself to go to court, and how he was set out in the best manner by his wife Joan. Now as soon as the king came home, he sent out orders about the court, that if any one enquired for him by the name of Harry Tudor, they should immediately bring him before him, whatever he was, without any further examination. The cobbler thought every day a month till �10 he had been at court to see his new acfqudhitkiiee, and was troubled how he should get leave of H& i wife Joan, for he could not get without her knowledge, by reason he did respite to make himself as fine as he could, for his wife always keeped the keys of his holyday clothes; whereupon one evening, as they sat at supper finding her iii a very good humour, he N egan to lay open his mind to her, telling her the whol£ story of their acquaintance, repeating it ovefr and Over Again, that he was the most honest fellow that ever he met withal. Husband, quoth she, because you have been so ingenious to tell me the whole truth, I will give you leave to make a holyday, for this once you shall g6 tb court, and I will make you as fine as I can. fefr it M s agreed that he should go to court the next day; whereupon Joan rose betime the next morning to brush up her husband's holyday clothes, and made him as fine as she could. She washed and ironed the lace-band, and made his shoes shine that he might see his face in them ; having done this she made her husband rise and pull of his shirtl Then she washed him with warm water from head to foot, putting on him a clean shirt; afterwards she dressed him in his holyday clothes, pinning his laced band in prim. �11 CHAP. IV. The Cobbler's reception at court, with the manner of his behaviour before the King. The Cobbler being thus set forth, he strutted through the street like crow in a gutter, thinking himself as fine as the best of them all. In this manner he came to the court, staring on this body and that body as he walked up and down, and not knowing how to ask for Harry Tudor. A t last he espied one, as he thought, in the habit of a servant-man, to whom he made his address, saying. Dost thou hear, honest fellow, do you know onfe Harry Tudor who belongs to the court. Yes, said the man, follow me, and I will bring you to him. With that he had him presently up into the guard chamber, telling one of the yeomen of the guard there was one that enquired for Harry Tudor. �12 The yeoman replied; I kwow liirn very well; If you please to go along with me9 Til bring you to him immediately, So the cobbler followed the yeoman, admiring very much the prodigious fmery of the rooms which he carried him through. He thought within himself, that the yeoman was mistaken in the person whom he inquired for; for, said he, he whom I look for is a plain, merry, honest fellow, his name is Harry Tudor; we drank two pots together not long since. I suppose he may belong to some lord or other about the court. I tell you, friend, replied the yoeman, I know him very well, do you but follow me, and I shall bring you to him instanly. So going forward, he came into the room where the king v,as accompanied by several of his nobles, who attended him. As soon as the yeoman had put up by the arras, he spoke aloud, may it please your Majesty, here is one that inquires for Harry Tudor. The cobbler hearing this, thought he had committed no less than treason ; therefore he up with �13 his heels and ran for i t : but not being acquaint ted with the several turning and rooms through which he came, lie was soon overtaken and brought before the king, whom the cobbler little thought to be the person he inquired alter, therefore in a trembling condition, he fell down on his knees, saying. May it please your Grace, may it please your Highness, I am a poor cobbler, who inquired for one Harry Tudor, who is a very honest fellow, I mended the heel of his shoe not long since, and for which he paid me nobly, and gave me two pots to boot: but I had him afterwards to my cellar, where we drank part of a cup of nappy ale, and were very merry, till my wife Joan began to grumble which put an end to our merriment, for that time, but I told him I would come to the court and see him, as soon as conveniently I could. Well, said the king, don't be troubled, would you know this honest fellow again, if you could see him. The cobbler replied, Yes, that I will among a thousand. Then said the king, s*.and up, and be not �14 afraid, but look well about you, peradventure you may find the fellow in this company. Whereupon the cobbler arose, and looked wishfully upon the king and the rest of the nobles, but it was to little or no purpose : for though he saw something in the king's face which he thought he had seen before, yet he could not be Harry Tudor, the lieel of whose shoe he had mended, and who had been so nlerry a companion with him at the inn, and at his own cellar. He therefore told the king he did not expect to find Harry Tudor among such fine folks as he saw there, but that the person he looked for was a plain honest fellow. Adding withal, that he was sure that did Harry Tudor but know he was come to court, he would make him very Weleome: for, says the cobbler, when we parted he charged me to come to court soon and see him, which I promised I would, and accordingly I have made a holy day ;6n purpose to have a glass with hifci. A t which speech of the cobbler's the king had much ado to forbear laughing out, but keeping his countenance as steady as he could before the cobbfer, he spoke to the yeoman of the guard. �15 Here, iaid he, take this honest cobbler down into toy Cellar, and let him drink my health: amj I will give orders that Harry Tudor shall come to him presently. JlKt 4' Mi'ih!hi /•*oftll£ if m i l w 5 f j ij.t d'iot So away they went, the cobbler being fit to leap out of his skin for joy, not only that he had come off so well, but that he should see his friend Harry Tudor. C H A P . V. The CbbblerY enter tainmetat in the K i n g s 'Cellar. The cobbler had not been long in the king's cellar, before the king camfc 46- him in the same habit that he had on when the cobbler mended hisfehoe; whereupon the cobbler knew him immediately, and ran and kissed him$ saying, honest Harrys I have made an holyday on purpose to see yoti, but I had much ado to get leave of my wife Jdari, who was loath to loose so much time from my work; but I was Resolved to see you, and therefore I made myself as fine as I^oUld. But I'll tell thee, Harry, when I came to court �16 I was in a peck of troubles how to find you out; but at last I met with a man who told me he knew you very well, and that he would bring me to you, but instead of doing so, he brought me before the king which almost frightened me out of my seven senses; but faith I'm resolved to be merry with you now, since I have met you al last. Aye, that we shall replied the king, we shall oo as merry as princes. Now after the cobbler had drunk about four or five good healths, he began to be merry, and fell a-singing his old songs and catches, which pleased the king very much, and made him laugh heartily. When on a sudden several ot the nobles came into the cellar, extraordinary rich in apparel, and all stood uncovered before Harry Tudor, which put the cobbler into a great amazement at first, but presently recovering himself, he looked more wishfully upon Harry Tudor, and soon knowing him to be the king, whom he saw in his presence chamber, though in another habit, he immediately fell upon his knees saying. May it please your Grace, may it please your �17 Highness, I am a poor honest cobbler and mean mo harm. No, no, said the king, nor shall receive any here, I assure you. He commanded him therefore to rise, and be as merry as he was before; and though he knew him to be the king, yet he should use the same freedom with him as he did before, when he mended the heel of his shoe. This kind speech of the kings and three or four glasses of wine, made the cobbler be in as good humour as before, telling the king several of his old stories and singing some of his best songs, very much to the satisfaction of the king m i all hh nobles. C O B B L E R ' S SONG IN T J i E KING'S CELLAR. Come let us drink the other pot, our sorrows to confound; �18 We'll laugh and sing before the King* so let his health go round; For I am as bold as bold can be, no cobbler e'er was ruder ; Then here good fellow here's to thee, (remembering Harry Tudor.) MP l i ' M < J f if.ml in<<,*> < l > When I'm at work within my stall, upon him I will think ; His kindness I to mind will cail, whene'er I eat or drink ; His kindness was to me so great, 'the like was never known, His kindness I shall still repeat, and so shall my wife Joan. yil laugh when I sit in my stall, and merrily will sing. That I with my poor last and awl, am fellow with the king. But it is more I must confess, than I at first did know, But Harry Tudor ne'ertheless, resolves it shall be so. And now farewell unto Whitehall, I homeward must retire, �19 T o sing and whistle in my stall, my Joan will me desire; I do but think how she shall laugh, when she hears of this thing* That h£ that drank her nut-brown ale, Was England's Royal King. CHAP. VI. How the Cobbler became a Courtier* Now the king considering the pleasant humour of the cobbler, how innocently merry he was, and free from any design; that he was a person that laboured very hard, and took a great deal of pains for a small livelihood, was pleased, out of his princely grac*7 and favour, to allow him a liberal annuity of fo'^y merks a year, for the better support of his jo-viy humour, and the maintenance of his wife Joai- and that he should be admitted one of hifc courtiers, and that he might have the freedom of his cellar whenever he pleased. Which being so much ! eyond expectation, did highly exalt the cobbler'^ humour, much to the satisfaction of the king. �20 So after a great many legs and scrapes, he returned home to his wife Joan, with the joyful news of his deception at court; which so well pleased her, that she did not think much at the great pains she took in decking him for the journey. * ANECDOTE. When Charles I I was on a progress through his dominions, lie was waited upon by the magistracy of a certain city in the north of England. The Mayor had prepared with 110 little study a splendid oration for so memorable an occasion. Kneeling down to deliver his address the worthy Magistrate (who was excessively fat) commenced by a feu dejoy of rather a singular nature: whether he deemed an expression of loyalty tantamount to a royal salute of the present day, history is silent: certain it is, lie felt greatly embarrassed, and blundered his oration most woefully. " 1 have, please your Majesty, begun at the wrong end/' cried the good Mayor, endeavouring to apologize for the incoherency of his speech. " So I remarked," replied the facetious monarch, but I fear the mistake can't now be corrected llise up, Sir Walter Cannon." �21 THE TWO BEARS. Two very intimate friends, one a painter, the other a goldsmith, travelling together, were benighted near a convent of religious christians* where they were entertained with great humanity. As those travellers wanted money to continue their journey, the painter, who was a proficient in his art, offered to work for the monastery. He soon possessed his hosts with a high opinion of his talents, and even inspired them with a confidence, which they had soon too much reason to repent. The monks having one night left the sacristy of their church open* the painter and his friend the goldsmith went in ; and,after taking out all the vessels of gold and silver which they found there, they ran away as fast as possible. Possessed of so great a booty, they determined to return to their own country. When they arrived there, fearing lest the robbery should be discovered, they put all their riches into a chest, and made an agreement that neither should take any out, without informing the other. Soon after the goldsmith married, and became the father of two children. T o supply his expences, which increased with his family, he appropriated the greatest part of the treasure iathe �22 chest to his own use. The painter'perceived his treachery, and reproached him with it. The other absolutely denied the fact. The painter, provoked at his perfidy, determined to punish him for it; but, to be more certain of his revenge, he pretended to believe every thing his associate swore. With this view he applied to a huntsman, a friend of his, to procure him two young bears alive. When he had them in his possession, he ordered a wooden statue to be made so much resembling the goldsmith in every respect j that the eye was deceived. After having thus prepared every thing necessary to his design, he accustomed the bears to eat out of the hands of the statue. He led them every morning into the room where he kept i t ; and, as soon as they saw it, they always ran and eat the victuals, which had been put in its hands. The painter employed many weeks in teaching them this exercise every day. As soon as he saw the two bears were perfect in their parts, he invited the goldsmith and his two children to Supper. Th& feast being prolonged till midnight, the goldsmith and his two children lay at their host's'. A t day-break the painter dexterously conveyed away the two children, and in their p|ace substituted the two bears. How much was the father, on waking, sun �23 prfeed to find them in his room instead of, hit children I He cried out most dreadfully* The painter ran to him, and appeared greatly astonished : " Perhaps," said he, " you have deserved so great a punishment as this metamorphosis from heaven, for some very extraordinary crime." The goldsmith was not to be deceived by what his friend said; but being convinced that he was the author of the metamorphosis, he obliged him to appear before the cadi; ancl there accused him of having stolen his children. " My lord," said the painter, " It is very easy for you to know the truth; order the two bears to be brought here; and if, by their gestures and caresses, they distinguish the goldsmith from the rest of the company, you cannot doubt their being really his children." The cadi consented to make this trial. As soon as the two little bears, wThom the painter had made to fast two days before, saw the goldsmith, they ran to him, and licked liis hands. So extraordinary a sight astonished the cadi, who was so embarassed that he durst not pronounce sentence. The goldsmith confused, returned to the painter, and on his knees confessed his treachery, conjuring him to pray to God to restore his children to their natural form. The painter pretending �24 to be affected with what he said, passed the night with him in prayers. He had before taken away the two bears, and in their place conveyed the two children, whom he had hid till then. The painter conducted their father into the room where they were; and returning them to him, said, " God has heard my feeble prayers, learn from thi3 time to keep strictly to your engagements." � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/baa9eb367c60723687e8e321af0705db.jpg dfaceaadc57b9b7d066b704b1643b9f8 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3255 Width 2004 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The comical history of the king and the cobbler; containing the entertaining and merry tricks, and droll frolics, played by the cobbler. - How he got acquainted with the King, became a great man, and lived at court ever after Subject The topic of the resource Crime Religion and Morals Wit and Humor Fairy Tales & Folklore Alcohol Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Henry VIII, King of England, 1491-1547 Description An account of the resource '56' is printed at the bottom of the title page Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival &amp; Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923288573505154">s0136b10</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Whitehall, London, England Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages Abstract A summary of the resource. In this tale, Henry VIII meets a jovial cobbler while exploring the city one night, in disguise. He is so pleased with the humour, songs, and stories of the cobbler that he spends the night drinking with him and invites him to visit him at court and to inquire after a Harry Tudor there. The cobbler takes him up on the offer – still unaware of his new friend’s status – and sets out to court dressed in his Sunday best. When he arrives, he is brought before the king, who he still does not recognize. Henry sends him to the cellar and meets him there again, this time in his disguise, where the cobbler recognizes him, and they drink together until the king’s identity is unmasked, whereupon the cobbler is rewarded with an annuity and by becoming a popular figure at court. The tale includes the drinking song of the cobbler, and is followed by an anecdote on Charles II, and a short (and ironic) moral story (The Two Bears) about two friends who steal a hoard of treasure from a monastery, and the trickery of one of the friends in temporarily replacing his companion’s children with bears as punishment for taking the greater share of the treasure. Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <span><a href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/"><span>http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</span></a></span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9b275b4c56f5582406bdd230f1262057.jpg cffdc11aa5bce1173d93e8a7c88441c6 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3308 Width 1890 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut on title-page portraying a young man wearing hat. He is standing in a field sharpening a scythe https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/fc29e9f5d0a14ca495f111f702fa7cd3.pdf d3547247af5ffe12c8882fcddc443066 PDF Text Text THE COMICAL SAYINGS OF i WITH HIS Coat B u t t o n e d Behind. BEING AN ELEGANT CONFERENCE BETWEEN E H 0 L I S H TOM KED I R I S H TEAGTJE; WITH PADDY'S CATECHISM, And his Supplication when a Mountain Sailor. PRINTED 8•t GLASGOW; FOR THE B O O K S E L E R S . 21. #### # W �« *' . x. ' • I . * ' - • n — ' 4'f . '• 3HT . ?d C' s ; • J i '• ' . in.iiTIT/ | JhiIIIoI! •' X • - -?H - < . ' H, 1 . H B I S I <!'= f I .. 1 - : £ rcftfiw ' t € t ' fconcmitf • J . L- f; t MM1 J1103 # . ' v- - fO | * im f»« A • & ^C JI 1 • • * . ; ; Tf-O .rood s Vv .1.A r n o i /o < .IS i 1 �i : v.-! "'1 COMICAL PADDY •! *' hW I • 1 FROM '•! - - ft S A Y I N G S CORK, • • ' U P A R T I, Tom. GOOD morrow, Sir, this is a very cold day. Teag. A IT a, dear honey, yesternight was a very cafat Tozra. Teag. Torn. Teag. Well brother traveller of what nation art thou: Arra clear shoy, I came from my own kingdom. Why, I know that, but where is thy kingdom ? Allelieu dear hnriey, don't you know Cork in Tom* You fool, Cork is not a kingdom but a city. Teag. Then dear shoy, I'm sure it is in a kingdom, Tom. And what is the reason you have come and left your own dear country ? </ - 4 Teag. Arra dear honey, by shaint Patrick, they have got such comical laws in our country, that they will put a man to death in perfect health; so to be free and plain with you, neighbour, I was obliged to come away, for I did not choose to stay among such a people that can hang a poor man when they please, if he either steals, robs, or kills a man, Tom. Ay, but I take you to be more of an i man, than to steal, rob, or kill a man. a child, my mother would have trusted me with a 1 full of Tom. What was the matter, was you guilty of nothing, Teag. Arra, dear honey, I did harm to nobody, but fancied an old guitieman's gun, and afterwards made it my ewi, �Tom. Very well boy, and did you keep it so ? Teag. Keep it, I would have kept it with ail my heart while I lived, death itself could not have parted us, but fcha old rogue, the gentleman, being a justice of peace himself, had in? tried for the rights of it, and how I came by it, and so took rt again. Tom. And how did you clear yourself without punishment ? Teag. Arra dear shoy, I told him a parcel of lies, but they would not believe me ; for I said that I got it from my father when it was a little pistol, and I had kept it till it had grown a gun, and was designed to use it well until it had grown a a big cannon, and then sell it to the military. They all fell a laughing at me as I had been a fool, and bade me go home to my mother ana clean the potatoes. lorn. How long is it since you left your own country ? Teag. Arra, dear honey, I do not mind whether it be a fortnight or four months, but I think myself, it is a long time; they tell me my mother is dead since, but I wont believe it until 1 get a letter from her own hand, for she is a very good scholar, suppose she can neither write nor read. Tom. Was you ever in England before ? Teag. A y , that I was, and in Scotland too. Tom. And were they kind to you when you was La Scotland ? Teag. They were that kind that they kick't my arse for me, and the reason was because I would not pay the whole of the liquor that was drunk in the company, though the landlord and his two sons got mouthful about of & all, and I told them it was a trick upon travellers, first to drink his liquor, and then to kick him out of doors. Tom. I really think they have used you badly, but could you not beat them ? Teag. That's what I did, beat them all to their own c«Hitentment, but there was one of them stronger than me, who would have killed me, if the other two had not pulled �5 me away, and I had to run for it, till his passion was over, then they made us drink and gree again ; we shook hands, and made a bargain, never to harm other more ; but this bargain did not last long, for, as I was kissing his mouth, by shaint Patrick, I bit his nose, which caused him to beat me very sore for my pains. Tom. Well Paddy, what calling was you when in Scotland. Teag. Why sir, I was no business at all, but what do you call the green tree that's like a whin bush, people makes a thing to sweep the house of it 1 Tom. 0 yes, Paddy, they call it the broom. Teag. A y , ay, you have it, I was a gentleman's broom, only waited on his horses, and washed the dishes for the cook : and when my master rode a hunting, I went behind with the dogs. Tom. O yes, Paddy, it was the groom you mean. But I fancy you was cook's mate, or kitchen boy. Teag. No, no, it was the broom that I was, and if I had staid there till now, I might have been advanced as high as my master, for the ladies loved me so well, that they laughed at me. Tom. They might admire you for a fool. Teag. What sir, do you imagine that I am not a fool ? no, no, my master asked counsel of me in all his matters, and I always give him a reason for every thing: I told him one morning, that he went too soon to the hunting, that the hairs were not got out of their beds, and neither the barking of horns, nor the blowing of dogs could make them rise, it was such a cold morning that night; so they all ran away that we catched, when we did not see them. Then my master told my words to several gentlemen that were at dinner with him, and they admired me for want of judgment, for my head was all of a lump: adding, they were going a-fishing along with my master and me in the afternoon ; but I told them that it was a very unhappy thing for any man to go a hunting in the morning, and afishingiri the afternoon ; they wouH try it, but they had better staid at horiie^ �6 for it CSQ16 ust a most terrible fine night of south west rain, and even down wind; so the fishes got all below the water to keep themselves dry from'the shower, and we catched them all but got none. Tom. How long did you serve that gentleman, Paddy. Teag. A n a , dear honey, I was with him six weeks, and he beat me seven times. Tom. For what did he beat you P was it for your madness and foolish tricks ? Teag. Dear shoy, it was not; but for being too inquisitive, and going sharply about business. First, he sent me to the post-office to enquire if there were any letters for him ; so when I came there, said I, is tliere any letters here for my master to-day ? Then tliey asked who was my master; sir, said I, it is very bad manners in you to ask any gentleman's name ; at this they laughed, mocking me, and said they could give me none, if I would not tell my master's name; so I returned to my master and told him the impudence of the fellow, who would give me no letters unless I would tell him your name, master. M y master at this flew in a passion, aad kicked me down stairs, saying, go you rogue, and tell my name directly, how can the gentleman give letters whea he knows not who is asking for them. Then I returned and told m j master's, name, so they told me there was one for him. I looked at % being very small, and asking the price of it, they told me it was sixpence: sixpence,'said I, wi$ you take sixpence for that small thing, and selling bigger ones for twopence; faith I am not such # big fool; you think to cheat me now, this is not a conscionable way of dealing, I'll acquaint my master with it first; so I came and told my master how tliey would have sixpence for his letter, and was selling bigger ones for twopence ; he took up my head and broke his cane with it, calling me a thousand fools, saying, the man was more just than to take any thing but the right for it; but I was sure there was none of them right, buying and selling such dear penny-worths. So I came again for my dear sixpence �7 letter ; and as the fellow wus shuffling through a parcel of them, seeking for it again, to make the best of a dear market, I pict up two, and home I comas to my master, thinking he would be pleased with what I had done ; now, said I, master, 1 think I have put a trick upon them fellows, for selling the letter to you. What have you done P I have only taken other two letters : here's one for you master, to help your dear penny-worth,'''and I'll send the other to my mother to see whet/ier she be dead or alive, for she's always angry I don't write to her. I had not the word well spoken, till he got up his stick and beat me heartily for it, and sent me habk to the fellows again with the two. I had a very ill will to go, but nobody would buy them of me. Tom. Well, Paddy, I think you was to blame, and your master too, for he ought to have taught you how to go about these affairs, and not beat you so. Teag. Arra dear honey, I had too much wit of my own to be teached by him, cr any body else ; he began to instruct me after that how I should serve the table, and such nasty things as those : one night I took ben a roasted fish in one hand, and a piece of bread in the other; the old gentleman whi so saucy he woiilc! not take it, and told me I should bring nothing to him without a trencher below it. The same night as he was going to bed, he called for his slippers and pish-pot, so I clapt a trencher below the pish-pot, and another below the slippers, and ben I goes, one in every hand; no sooner did I enter the room than he threw the pish-pot at me, which broke both my head and the pish-pot at one blow ; now, said I, the devil is in my master altogether, for what he commands at one time he countermands at another. Next day I went with him to the market to buy a sack of potatoes, I went to the potatoemonger, and asked what he took for the full of a Scot's cog, he weighed them in, he asked no less than fourpence ; fourpence, said I, if I were but in Dublin, I could got the double of that for nothing, and in Cork and Linsale far cheaper ; them is but small things like �8 pease, said I, but the potatoes in my country is as big as your head, fine meat, all made up in blessed mouthful? ; the potatoe-merchant called me a liar, and my master called me a fool, so the one fell a-kicking me, and the other a cuffing me, I was in such bad bread among them, that I called myself both a liar and a fool to get oil alive. Tom. And how did you carry your potatoes home from the market. Teag. Arra dear shoy, I carried the horse and them both, besides a big loaf, and two bottles of wine ; for I put the old horse on my back, and drove the potatoes before me, and when I tied the load to the loaf, I had nothing to do but to carry the bottle in my hand : but bad luck to the way as I came home, for a nail out of the heal of my foot sprung a leak in my brogue, which pricked the very bone, bruised the skin, and made my brogue itself to blood, and I having no hammer by me, but a hatchet I left at home, I had to beat down the nail with the bottom of the bottle: and by the book, dear shoy, it broke to pieces, and scattered the wine in my mouth. Tom. And how did you recompense your master for the loss of the bottle of wine ? Teag. Arra dear shoy, I had a mind to cheat him and myself too, for I took the bottle to a blacksmith, and desired him to mend it that I might go to the butcher and get it full of bloody water, but he told me he could not work in any thing but steel and iron. Arra, said I, if 1 were in my own kingdom, I could get a blacksmith who would make a bottle out of a stone, and a stOne out of nothing. Tom. And how did you trick your master out of it ? Teag. Why the old rogue began to chide me, asking me what way I broke it, then I held up the other as high as my head, and let it fall to the ground on a stone, which broke it all in pieces likewise : now said I, master, that's the way, and he beat me very heartily until I had to shout out mercy and murder all at once. �9 Tbm. W h y did you not leave him when he used yon so badly. Teag. Arra, dear shov, I could never think to leav<i him while I could eat, he gave me soT many good victuals, and promised to prefer me to be his own bonepicker. But by shaint Patrick, I had to run away with my life or all was done, else I had lost rny dear shoul and body too by him, and then come home much poorer than I went away. The great big bitch dog, which was my master's best beloved, put his head into a pitcher, to lick out some milk, and when it was in he could not get it out; and I to save the pitcher got the hatchet and cut off the dog's head, and then I had to break the pitcher to get out the head; by this I lost both the dog and the pitcher. M y master hearing of this swore he would cut the head off me, for the poor dog was made useless, and could not see to follow any body for want of his eyes. And when I heard of this, I ran away with my own head, for if I had wanted it I had lost my eyes too, then I wTould not have seen the road to Port Patrick, through Glen-nap; but by shaint Patrick I came home alive in spite of them. Tom. O larely done, Paddy, you behaved like a man! but what is the reason that you Irish people swear always by saint Patrick? Teag. Arra dear honey, he was the best shaint in the world, the father of all good people in the kingdom, he lias a great kindness for an Irishman, when he hears hiin calling on his name. Tom. But, Paddy, is saint Patrick yet alive ? Teag, Arra dear honey, I dont know whether he be dead or alive, but it is a long time since they killed .him; the people all turned heathens, but he would not change his profession, and was going to run the country with it, and for taking the gospel away to England, so the barbarous tories of Dublin cutted off his head ; and he swimmed over to England, and carried his head in his teeth, �10 P A R T XI tbm. H o w did you get safe out of Scotland P Teag. By the law dear honey, when I came to Peart Patrick, and saw my own kingdom* I knew I was safe at home, but I was clean dead, and almost drowned before I could get riding over the water; for I with nine passengers more, leapt into a little young boat, having • Silt four mei dwelling in a little house, in the one end of it, which was all thacked with deals: and after they had pulled up her tether-stick, and laid her long halter oVeibjber mane, they pulled up a long sheet, like three oair bf blankets, to the riggen of the house, and the wind • blew in that, which made her gallop up one hill and down another, till I thought she would have run to the • world's end.. Tom. Well Paddy, and where did you go when you camd to Ireland again ? Tmg* Arra dear honey, and where did I go but to triy own dear cousin, who was now become very rich by the death of the old buck his father; who died but a few weeks before I went over, and the parish had to bury him out of pity, it did not ,cost him a farthing. Tpm. And what entertainment, did you get there ? Teag. 0 my dear slioy, I was kindly used as another gendeman, and would have staid there long enough, but when a man is poor his friends think little of him: I told him I was going to see my brother Harry: Harry, said he, Harry is dead; dead said and who killed him? W h y , said he, death : Allelieu, dear honey, and where did he kill him ? said I. In his bed, says he. Arra dear honey, said I , if he had been upon Newry mountains with his brogues on, and his broad sword by his side, all the death's in Ireland had not have killed him: O that impudent fellow death, if he had let him alone till he died for want of butter milk and potatoes, I am sure he had lived all the days of his life. Torn. In all your travels when abroad, did you a*mi �I1 see none of your countrymen to inform you of what happened at home concerning your relations ? Teag. Arra, dear shoy, I saw none but Tom Jack, one day in the street; but when I came to him, it was not him, but one just like him. Tom. On what account did you go a travelling ? Teag. W h y a recruiting sergeant listed me to be a captain, and after all advanced me no higher than a soldier itself, but only he called me his dear countryman recruit; for I did not know what the regiment was when I saw them. I thought they were all gentlemen's sons, and coilegioners, when I saw a box like a bible upon their bellies; until I saw G for King George upon it, and R for God bless him: ho, ho, said I , I shan't be long here. Tom. O then Paddy you deserted from them ? Teag. That's what I did, and ran to the mountains like a buck, and ever since when I see any soldiers I close my eyes, lest they should look and know me. Tom. And what exploits did you when you was a soldier ? Teag. Arra, dear honey, I killed a man. Tom. And how did you do that ? Teag, Arra, dear honey, when he dropt his sword I drew mine, and advanced boldly to him, and then cutted off his foot. Tom. O then what a big fool was you; for you ought first to have cut off his head. Teag. Arra, dear shoy, his head was cutted off before I engaged him, else I had not done it. ffim. O then Paddy you acted like a fool: but you are not such a big fool as many take you to be, you might pass for a philosopher. Teag. A fulusipher, my father was a fulusipher, besides he was a man under great authority by law, condemning the just and clearing the guilty. Do you know how they call the horse's mother ? Tom. W h y they call her a mare. �12 Teag. A mare, ay, very well minded, my fathei was a mare in Cork. Tom. And what riches was left you by the death of your mother ? Teag. A. bad luck to her own bairen belly, fur she lived in great plenty, and died in great poverty; devoured tip all or she died but two hens, and a pockful of potatoes, a poor estate for an Irish gentleman, in faith. Tom. And what did you make of the hens, and potatoes, did you sow them ? Teag. A n a , dear shoy, I sowed them in my belly, and sold the hens to a cadger. Tom. What business did your mother follow after ? Teag. Greatly in the merchant way. Tom. And what sort of goods did she deal in P Teag. Dear honey, she went through the country and sold small fishes, onion's and apples, bought hens and eggs and then hatched them herself. I remember of a long-necked cock she had, of an oversea brood, that stood on the midden and picked all the stars out of the north-west, so they were never so thick there since. Tom. Now Paddy, that's a bull surpasses all: but is there none of that cock's offspring alive now. Teag. Arra, dear shoy, I don't think there are, but it is a pity but they had, for they would fly with people above the sea, which would put the use of ships out of fashion, and nobody be drowned at all. Tom,, Very well. Paddy, but in all your travels did you ever get a wife ? Teag. A y , that's what I did, and a wicked wife too, and my dear shoy, I can't tell whether she is gone to Purgatory, or the parish of Pig-trantrum; for she told me she should certainly die the first opportunity she could get, as tins present evil world wTas not worth the waiting on, so she would go and see what good tilings is in the world to come; so when that old rover called the Fever came raging over the whole kingdom, she went away and died out of spite, leaving me nothing but two motherless children. �13 Tom. 0 but Paddy, you ought to have gone to a doctor, and got some pills and physic for her. Teag. By shaint Patrick, I had as good a pill of my own as any doctor in the kingdom could give her. Tom. O you fool, that is not what I mean; you ought to have brought the doctor to feel her pulse, and let blood of her if he thought it needful. Teag. Yes that's what I did, for I ran to the doctor whenever she died, and sought something for a dead 01 dying woman; the old foolish devil was at his dinner, and began to ask me some dirty questions, which I answered distinctly. Tom. And what did he ask Paddy ? Teag. W h y , he asked me, How did my wife go to stool ? to which I answered, the same way that other people go to a chair: no, said he, thfet's not what I mean, how does she purge ? Arra, Mr. Doctor, said I, all the fire in Purgatory wont purge her clean; for she has both a cold and stinking breath. Sir, said he, that is not what I ask you ; whether does she shit thick or thin P Arra, Mr. Doctor, said I, it is sometimes so thick and hard, that you may take it in your hand, and cut it like a piece of cheese, or pudding, and at other times you may drink it, or sup it with a spoon. A t this he flew into a most terrible rage, and kicked me down stairs, and would give me nothing to her, but called me a dirty vagabond for speaking of shit before ladies. Tom. And in what good order did you bury your wife when she died. Teag. O my dear shoy she was buried in all manner of pomp, pride, and splendour: a fine coffin with cords in it, and within the coffin along with herself, she got a pair of new brogues, a penny candle, a good hard-headed old hammer, with an Irish sixpenny piece, to pay her passage at the gate, and what more could she look for. Tom. I really think you gave her enough along with her, but you ought to have cried for her, if it was no more but to be in the fashion. �14 And why should I cry without sorrow ? whm d two criers to cry all the way before her to keep her in the fashion. Tom. And what do they cry before a dead woman? Teag* Why they cry the common cry, or funeral lament that is used in our Irish country. Tom. And what manner of cry is that Paddy ? Teag* Dear Tom, if yen don't know Til tell you, when v my person dies, there is a number of criers goes before, saying, Luff, fuff, fou, allelieu, dear honey, what aileth ihee to die ! it was not for want oF good buttermilk and potatoes, P A R T III. .te*. WELL Paddy, and what did you do wheri youi Wife died ? * Teag. Dear honey, what would I do? do you think 1 Was such a big fdol as to die too, I am lure if I had I would not have got fair play when I to not so old yet as my father was when he died. Tomi No, Paddy/ it is not that I mean, Was fifty sorry, or did you weep for her ? Teag. Weep for her, by shaint Patrick I would not weep, nor yet be sorry, suppose my own mother and all the women in Ireland had died seven years before I was bom. ' Tom. What did you do with your children when sh# died? Teag. Do you imagine I was "such a big fool as bury my children alive along with a dead woman; Arra, dear honey, We always commonly give nothing along with a dead person, but an old shirt, a winding sheet, a big hathiner, with a long candle, and an Irish silver threepenny piece ? Tom. Dear Paddy, and what do they make of all these things ? Teag. Then Tom, since you are so inquisitive, you mu^t go ask the Priest. Ihm, What did you make of your children Paddy f �li Teag. And what should I make of them, do you Imagine that I should give them into the hands of the butchers, as they had been a parcel of young hogs : by shaint Patrick' I had more unnaturality in me, than to put them in an hospital as others do. Tom. No, I suppose you woul<Heave them with your friends ? Teag. Ay, ay, a poor man's friends is sometimes worse Ihan a profest enemy, the best friend I ever had in the Vorld was my own pocket while my money lasted j but 1 left two babes betweeii the priest's door and the parish church, because I thought it was a place of mercy, and then set out for England in quest of another fortune. Tpm. I fancy, Paddy, you came off with what they call a moon-shine flitting. Teag. You lie like a thief now, for I did not see sun, moon, nor stars, all the night then: for I set out from Cork at the dawn of night, and I had travelled twenty miles all but twelve, before gloaming in the morning. Tom. And where did you go to take shipping? Teag. Arra, dear honey, I came to a country village called Dublin, as big a city ^s any market-town in all England, where I got myself aboard of a little young boat, with a parcel of fellows, and a long leather bag. I supposed them to be tinklers, until I asked what they carried in that leather sack; they told me it was the English mail they were going over with; then said I , is the milns so scant in England, that they must send over their com to Ireland to grind it, the comical cunning fellows persuaded me it was so: then I went down to a little house below the water, hard by the rigg-back of the boat, and laid xm down on their leather sack, where I slept myself almost to death with hunger. And dear Tom to tell you plainly when I waked I did not know where I was, but thought I was dead and buried, for I found nothing all round me but wooden walls and timber above. Tom. And how did ye, to yourself to know where you w*s at last. �16 Teag. By tfie law* dear shoy, I scratched my head m a hundred parts, and then set rne down to think upon it, so I minded it was my wife that was dead and not me, and that I was alive in the young boat, with the fellows that carries over the English meal from the Irish milns. Tom. O then Paddy, I am sure you was glad when you found yourself alive ? Teag. Arra, dear shoy, I was very sure I was alive, but I did not think to live long, so I thought it was better for me to steal and be hanged, than to live all my days and die directly with hunger at last. Tom. Had you no meat nor money along with you ? Teag. Arra, dear shoy, I gave all the money to the captain of the house, or gudeman of the ship, to take me into the sea or over to England, and when I was like to eat my old brogues for want of victuals I drew my hanger and cut the lock of the leather sack to get a lick of their meal; but allelieu, dear shoy, I found neither meal nor seeds, but a parcel of papers and letters—a poor morsel for a hungry man. Tom. 0 then paddy you laid down your honesty foi nothing. Teag. A y , ay, I was a great theif but got nothing to steal. Tom. And how did you get victuals at last ? Teag. Allelieu, dear honey, the thoughts of meat and drink, death and life, and every thing else was out of mind, I had not a thought but one. Tom. And what was that Paddy ? Teag. To go down among the fishes and become a whale; then I would have lived at ease all my days, having nothing to do but to drink salt water, and eat caller oysters. Tom. What was you like to be drowned again ? Teag. A y , ay, drowned, as cleanly drowned as a fish, £>r the sea blew very loud, and the wind ran so high, that we were all cast safe on shore, and not one of us drowned at all. �17 Tom. Where did you go when you came on shore ? Teag. Arra, dear honey, I was not able to go any where* you might cast a knot on my belly, I was so hollow in the middle, so I went into a gentleman's house and told him the bad fortune I had of being drowned between Ireland and the foot of his garden; where we came all safe ashore. But all the comfort I got from him was a word of truth. Tom. And what was that Paddy ? Teag. W h y he told me, if I had been a good boy at home, I needed not to have gone so far to push my fortune with an empty pocket; to which I answered, and what magnifies that, as long as I am a good workman at no trade at all. Tom. I suppose, Paddy, the gentleman would make you dine with him ? Teag. I really thought I was, when I saw them roasting and skinning so many black chickens which was nothing but a few dead crows they were going to eat; ho, ho, said I , them is but dry meat at the best, of all the fowls that flee, commend me to the wing of an o x : but all that came to my share was a piece of boiled herring and a roasted potatoe, that was the first bit of bread I ever eat in England. Tom. Well, Paddy, what business did you follow after in England when you was so poor. Teag. What sir, do you imagine I was poor when I came over on such an honourable occasion as to list, and bring myself to no preferment at all. As I was an able bodied man in the face, I thought to be made a brigadeer, a grandedeer, or a fuzeleer, or even one of them blew gowns that holds the flerry stick to the bung-hole of the big cannons, when they let them off, to fright away the French; I was as sure as no man alive ere I came from Cork, the least preferment I could get, was to be riding-master to a regiment of marines, or one of the black horse itself. Tom. And where in England was it you listed ? Teag. Arra, dear shoy, I was going through that �18 little country village, the famous city of Chester, the streets were very sore by reason of the hardness of my feet, and lameness of my brogues, so I went but very slowly across the streets, from port to port is a pretty long way, but I being weary thought nothing of it; then the people came all crowding to me as I had been a world's wonder, or the wandering jew; for the rain blew In my face, and the wind wetted all my belly, which caused me to turn the backside of my coat before, and my buttons behind, which was a good safegaurd to iny body, and the starvation of my naked body, for I had not a good shirt. Tom. I am sure then, Paddy, they would take you for a fool ? Teag. No, no, sir, they admired me for my wisdom, for I always turned my buttons before, when the wind blew behind, but ;! wondered how the people knew my name and where I came from: for every one told another, that was Paddy from Cork: I suppose they knew my fece by seeing my name in the newspapers* Tom, Well,. Paddy, what business did you follow in Chester ?, ' Teag,. To be sure I was not idle, working at nothing at all, till a decruiting seargeant came to town with two or three fellows along with him, one beating on a fiddle, and another playing on a drum, tossing-their airs thro' the streets, as if they were going to be married, I saw them courting none but young men; so to bring mysell to no preferment at all, I listed for a soldier,—I was too big for a grandedeer. Tom. What listing money did you get, Paddy ? Teag. Arra, dear shoy, I got five thirteens and a pah of English brogues ; the guinea and the rest of the gold was sent to London, to the King, my master, to buy me new shirts, a cockade, and common treasing for my hat, they made me swear the malicious oath of devilrie against the King, the colours, and my captain, telling me if ever I desert, and not run away, that I should be -hot, find then whipt to death through the regiment �If Tom. No Faddy: it is first whipt and then shot yon mean. Teag. Arra, dear shoy, it is all one thing at last, but it is best to be shot and then whipt, the cleverest way to die I'll warrant you. Tom. How much pay did you get, Paddy ? Teag. Do you know the little tall fat seargeant that feed me to be a soldier ? Tom. And how should I know them I never saw you fool Teag. Dear shoy, you may know him whether you see him or not, his face is all Jjored in holes with the small pox, his no«a is the colour of a lobster-toe, and Ids chin like a well washen potatoe, he's the biggest rogue in our kingdom, you'll know him when you meet him again : the rogue height me sixpence a day, kill or no kill: and when I laid Sunday and Saturday both together, and all the days in one day, I can't make 8 penny above fivepence of it. Tom. You should have kept an account, and asked your arrears once a month. Teag. That's what I did, but he reads a paternoster out of his prayer book, wherein all our names are written; so much for a stop-hold to my gun, to bucklers, to a pair of comical ham-hose, with leather buttons from top to toe ; and worst of all, he would have no less than a penny a week, to a doctor; arra, said I, I never had a sore finger, nor yet a sick toe, all the days of my life, then what have 1 to do with the doctor, or the doctor to do with me. Tom. And did he make you pay all these things ? Teag. A y , ay, pay and better pay: he took me before his captain, who made me pay all was in his book. Arra, master captain, said I, you are a comical sort of a fellow now, you might as well make me pay for my coffin before I be dead, as to pay for a doctor before I be sick; to which he answered in a passion, sir, said he, I have seen many a better man buried without a coffin; sir, said I, then I'll have a coffin, die when I will, if �20 there be as much wood in all the world, or I shall not be buried at all. Then he called for the sergeant, saying, you sir, go and buy that man's coffin, and put it in the store till he die, and stop sixpence a week of his pay for it: No, no, sir, said I, I'll rather die without a coffin, and seek none when I'm dead, but if you are for clipping another sixpence off my pay, keep it all to yourself, and I'll swear all your oaths of agreement we had back again, and then seek soldiers where you will. Tom. O then Paddy, how did you end tke matter ? Teag. Arra, dear shoy, by the nights of shaint Patrick and help of my brogues, J both ended it, and mended it, for the next night before that, I gave them leg bail foi my fidelity, and went about the country a fortune-teller, dumb and deaf as I was not. Tom. How old was vou Paddy when you was a soldiei last ? Teag. Arra, dear honey, I was three dozen all but two, and it is only two years since, so I want only foui years of three dozen yet, and when I live six dozen more, I'll be older than I am, I'll warrant you. Tom. O but Paddy, by your account, you are three dozen of years old already. Teag. O what for a big fool are you now Tom, when you count the years I lay sick; which time I count no time at all. A N E W C A T E C H I S M , &c. Tom. OF all the opinions professed in religion tell me now, Paddy, of what profession art thou P Teag. Arra, dear shoy, my religion was too weighty a matter to carry out of mine own country: I was afraid that you English Presbyterians should pluck it away from me. Tom. What, Paddy, was your religion «uch a load that you could not carry it along with you ? Teaq* Yes, that it was, but I carried it always about With me when at home my sweet cross upon my deai breast, bonnd to my dear button hole. �21 Tom. and what manner of worship viid you perform by that ? Teag. Why I adored the cross, the pope, and the priest, cursed Oliver as black as crow, and swears myself a cut throat against all Protestants and church of Englandmen. Tom. And what is the matter but you would be a church of Englandman, or a Scotch Presbyterian yourself, Paddy ? Teag. Because it is unnatural for an Irishman: but had shaint Patrick been a Presbyterian, I had been the same. Tom. And for what reason would you be a Presby* terian then, Paddy? Teag. Because they have liberty to eat flesh in lent* and every thing that's fit for the belly. * Tom. What, Paddy, are you such a lover of flesh that you would change your profession for it ? Teag. O yes, that's what I would, I love flesh of all kinds, sheep's beef, swine's mutton, hare's flesh, and hen's venison; but our religion is one of the hungriest in all the world, ah J but it makes my teeth to weep, and my belly to water, when I see the Scotch Presbyterians, and English churchmen, in time of lent, feeding upon bulls' bastards, and sheep's young children. Tom. Why Paddy, do you say the bull is a fornicator and gets bastards ? Teag. Arra, dear shoy, I never saw the cow and her husband all the days of my life, nor before I was born, going to the church to be married, and what then can his sons and daughters be but bastards ? Tom. What reward will you get when you are dead, for punishing your belly so while you are alive ? Teag. By shaint Patrick I'll live like a king when I'm dead, for I will neither pay for meat nor drink. Tom. What, Paddy, do you think that you are fcc come alive again when you are dead ? Teag. O yes, we that are true Roman Catholicswill live a long time after we are dead; when we d» �m k lore with the Priests, and the good people of em profession. Tom. And what assurance can your priest give von of that? Tmg. Arra, dear shoy, our priest is a great shaint, a good shoul, who can repeat a pater-noster and Ave Maria, which will fright the very horned devil himself, and make him run for it, until he be like to fall and break his neck. Tom. And what does he give you when you are dying that makes you come alive again ? rTeag. Why he writes a letter upon our tongues, sealed with a wafer, gives us a sacrament in our mouth, with a pardon, and direction in our right hand, who to call for at the ports of Purgatory. Tom. And what money design you to give the priest for your pardon ? Teag. Dear shoy 1 wish I had first the money he would take for it, I would rather drink it myself, and then give him both my bill and my honest word, payable in the other world. Tom. And how then are you to get a passage to the other world, or who is to carry you there ? Teag. 0 my dear shoy, Tom, you know nothing of the matter: for when I dies they will bury my body, flesh, blood, dirt, and bones, only my skin will be blown up full of wind and spirit, my dear shoul I mean; and then I will be blown over to the other world on the wings of the wind ; and after that I'll never be lolled, hanged nor drowned, nor yet die in my bed, for when hxiy hits rne a blow, my new body will play buff upon it Lke a bladder. Tom. But what way will you go to the new world, or where is it P Teag. Arra, dear shoy, the-priest knows where it is but I do not, but the Pope of Rome keeps the outerport, shaint Patrick the inner-port, and gives us a direction of the way to shaint Patrick's palace, which sstands �m th* head of the SfcaHan loch, where Pi) have rs© mere to ito but chap at the gate, Tom. What is the need for chapping at the gate, is it not always open ? Teag. Dear shoy, you know little about it, for there is none can enter but red hot Irishmen, for when I call Alieh'eu, dear honey, shaint Patrick countenance your own dear countryman if you will, then the gates will be opened directly for me, for lie knows and loves an Irishman's voice, as he loves his own heart. Tom. And what entertainment will you get when you are in ? Teag. 0 my dear, we are all kept there untill a general review, which is commonly once in the week; and then we are drawn up like as many young recruits, and all the blackgaurd scoundrels is pict out of the ranks, and one half of them is sent away to the Elysian fields, to curry the weeds from among the potatoes, the other half of them to the River sticks, to catch fishes for shaint Patricks table, and them that is owing the priests any money is put in the black-hole, and then given to the hands of a great black bitch of a de?il, which is keeped for a hangman, who whips them up and down the smoky dungeon every morning for six months. Toift, Well Paddy, are you to do as much justice to a Protestant as a Papist ? Teag. 0 my dear shoy, the most justice we are commanded to do a Protestant, is to whip and torment them until, they confess themselves in the Romish faith ; and then cut their throats that they may die believers. Tom. What business do you follow after at present ? Teag. Arra, dear shoy, I am a mountain sailor and my supplication is as follows. PADDY'S HUMBLE PETITION, OR SUPPLICATION. Christian people, behold me a man ! who has com'd through a world of wonders, a hell full of hardships, dangers by sea, and dangers by land, and yet I am alive; you may see my hand crooked like a fowl's foot, and GOOD �that is no wonder at all considering my sufferings and sorrows. Oh! oh ! oh ! good people. I was a man in my time who had plenty of the gold, plenty of the silver, plenty of the clothes, plenty of the butter, the beer, beef, and biscuit. And now I have nothing: being taken by the Turks and relieved by the Spaniards, lay sixty-six days at the siege of Gibralter, and got nothing to eat but sea wreck and raw mussels ; put to sea for our safety, cast upon the Barbarian coast, among the wicked Algerines, where we were taken and tied with tugs and tadders, horse-locks, and cow-chains: then cut and castcate yard and testicle quite away, put in your hand and feel how every female's made smooth by the sheer bone, where nothing is to be seen but what is natural. Then made our escape to the desart wild wilderness of Arabia; where we lived among the wild asses, upon wind, sand, and sapless ling. Afterwards put to sea in the hull of an old house, where we were tossed above and below the clouds, being driven through thickets and groves by fierce, coarse, calm, and contrary winds: at last, was cast upon Salisbury plains, where our vessel was dashed to pieces against a cabbage stock. And now my humble petition to you, good Christian people is, for one hundred of your beef, one hundred of your butter, another of your cheese, a cask of your biscuit, a tun of your beer, a keg of your rum, with a pipe of your wine, a lump of your gold, a piece of your silver, a few of your half-pence or farthings, a waught of your butter-milk, a pair of your old breeches, stockings, m shoes, even a chaw of tobacco for charity's sake. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Full .pdf reproduction of the item. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 001: Title-page illustration of a young farmer sharpening a scythe in a field. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Comical Sayings of Paddy From Cork, with his Coat Buttoned Behind. Being An Elegant Conference Between English Tom and Irish Teague; With Paddy's Catechism, And his Suplication when a Mountain Sailor. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1850? per National Library of Scotland Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934228423505154">s0585b37</a> Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <p><span>University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks </span></p> <p><a href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/"><span>http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</span></a></p> Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Travel Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Cork, Ireland Type The nature or genre of the resource wit & humor Description An account of the resource Woodcut #01: Illustration on title-page of a young farmer sharpening a scythe in a field. # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Genre: wit & humor Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Fashion (Clothing): bonnet Fashion (Clothing): jacket Fashion (Clothing): pants Fashion (Clothing): working class Gender: man/men Occupation: farmer Outdoor Scene Tools: scythe(s) https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/3cc4624a2abdff7af969251002f0dea5.jpg 57c1c1b9e1252db49cfb7160d9ce9a0b Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut on title-page portraying a young man wearing a straw hat and coat standing in front of a large box of tobacco in a tropical climate https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/a986574d595e19cdb5942ea65a1caa5f.pdf 12fe3bdef0d080a129571c45504c4c95 PDF Text Text THE COMICAL STORY OF T H f t U H i l Y CAP AND THE GHAIST TO WHICH IS ADDED THE HIGHLAND STORY OF DONALD& HIS DOG. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS �0 I Y30T8- .UlDIMOO © 3 H T T 81A H O a a a a A si HDIHW OT iftIVi u /AAWVUl^ 'MVV .OOfl filli MLI./../KXI : WO03V TO 3HT JHH <MTKIJIr �THRUMMY CAP. A TALE. IN ancient times, far i' the north, A hunder miles ayont the forth, Upon a stormy winter day, Twa men forgather'd oc the way, Ane was a sturdy bardoch chiel An' frae the weather happit weel, Wi« a mill'd plaiding jockey-coat And eke he on his head had got A thrummy cap baith large and gtout, Wi< flaps ahind, as weel's a snout, Whilk button'd close aneath his chin, To keep the cauld frae getting in : Upon his legs he had gammashes, Whilk sodgers term their spatterdashes An' on his hands, instead o' gloves. Large doddy mittens, whilk he'd roo*«t Tor warm ness, an4 an aiken stick Nae verra lang, but unco thick, Intill his nieve—he drave awa', But car d tor neither frost nor suaw, The ither was just the reverse, (J- claes and courage baith was scarce, Sae in our tale, ; s we go on, 1 think we'll ca' him cowVldy John. Sae on they gade at a gnde scowe'r, 'Cause that they saw a gathering shower,- �4 Grow verra thick upon tlie wind, Whilk to their wae they soon did find 5 A mighty show'r o' snaw and drift, As ever dang down frae the lift ! Right wild and boist'rous Boreas roar'd, Preserves! quoth John, we'll baith be smor'd* Our trystic end we'll ne'er make o u t ; Chear up, says Thrummy, never d o u t . But I'm some fly'd we've tint our way, Howe'er at the neist house we'll stay, Until we see gif it grow fair, Gin no, a' night we'll tarry there. Weel, weel, says Johnny, we shall try ? Syne they a mansion house did spy, Upo' the road a piece afore, Sae up they gade unto the door, W here Thrummy chappit wi' his stick, Syne to the door came verra quick, A meikle dog, wha barked fair, But Thrummy for him didna c a r e ; H e handled weel his aikeu staff, An' spite o*s teeth he kept him aff Until the Landlord came to see, And ken fat might the matter be ; Then verra soon the dog did cease The Landlord then did spear the case Quoth Thrummy, Sir, we ha'e gane rill ; we thought we'd ne'er a house get till, W e near were smor'd amo' the drift, And sae gudeman, ye ll mak' a shift To gi'e us quarters a' this night, For now we dinnaha'e the light, Farer to gang, tho' it were fair, See gin ye hae a bed to spare. �5 Whatever ye charge we cauna grudge. But satisfy ye, ere we budge T o gang awa - - a n d fan 'tis day, We'll pack out all, and tak the way. T h e Landlord said, O 6 beds I've nane, O u r ain fowks they will scarce contain, But gin ye'll gang but twa miles foret Aside the Kirk dwalls Robbie Dorret, W h a keeps a Change-house, sells guide drink, H i s house ye may mak out I think. Quoth Thrnmmy, th t's owre far awa', T h e roads are sae blawn up wi' snaw, To mak it is na in our power; For, look ye, there's a gathering shower Just coming on— you'll let us bide, T h o ' we should sit by the fire side. The Landlord said to him, Na, na, I canna let you bide ava, Chap aff, for 'tis iia worth your while T o bide, when ye hae scrimp twa mile To g a n g - - s a e quickly aff you'll steer, F o r faith, 1 doubt ye'll na be here. T ^ a mile! quo' Thrummy, deil speed me, If frae your house this night 1 jee, A r e we to starve in Christian land ? As lang's my stick bides in my hand, A n ' siller plenty in my pouch, T o nane about your house I'll crouch, Landlord, ye needna be sae rude, For faith we'll mak our quarters good. Come, John, let's in, we'll tak a sate, F a t sorrow gars yon look so blate ? Sae in he gangs, and sets him down, -Says lie, there's nae about your town. �6 Sill put flie out till a ne>v day. Lang as I've silier for to pay, The Landlord said., Ye'r<' rather rash, To turn you out I carina fash, Since ye're so positive to hide, But troth. vese sit by the fire-side; [ tald ye else of beds I've name, Unoccupied, except bareane; In it. 1 fear, ye winna Iy ; lu>r stoutest heart has aft,been shy To venture in wjthin the room, After the night begins to gloom; For in it they can ne'er get rest, k l is haunted by a frightful ghaist; Oursels are terrified a' night, Sae ye may chance to get a sight, Like that which some o' our fowk saw, } (ilar better still ye gang awa', Or else ye'll maybe rue the day, Guide faith quo' John, I'm thinking sae ; Better into the neuk to sit, Than fla'd, Gude keep's, out o' out wit; Preserve us ever frae all evil, I widna like to seethe devel! Whisht gowk, quo1 Thrummy, baud your peace That sanna gar me quit this place ; Nor great nor sma' 1 ne'er did ill, The ghaist nor deil my rest shall spill. I will defy the meikle deil, And a' his warks I wat fu' weel; What the sorrow then maks you sae erry ? Fling by your fears, and come he cheery, Landlord gin ye'll mak up that bed, J promise I'll he verra glad, 4 �7 W i t h i n the same a' night to lie, If t h a t the room be warm and dry, T h e Lanlord says, Ye'se get a tire, And candle too gin ye desire, W i ' beuks to r e a d ; and for your bed, I'll orders gie, to g e t it made. J o h n says, as I'm a Christian man, W h o never likes to curse nor ban, N o r steal, nor lie, nor drink, nor roar, I'll never gang within its door, But sit by the fireside a' nighit, And gang awa' where'er 'tis light. Says Thrummy till him, wi' a glow'tr, Y e cowardly gowk I 11 mak ye cow r * Come up the stair alang wi' me, A n d I shall cautiou for ye be. Then J o n n y faintly gaed consent. Sine up the stairs to the room they went, W h e r e soon they gat baith fire and light, T o haud them hearty a' the n i g h t ; T h e Landlord likewise gae them m e a t ; Meikle as they baith could eat • Shew'd then their bed and bade them gang T o it, whene'er they did think l a n g : Sae wishing them a gude repose Straight syne to his ain bed he goes. O u r travelers now being left alane,. 'Cause that the frost was nipping keen, Coost aff their shoon, and warme d their feet, T h e n syne gaed to their bed to sleep. B u t cowardly J o h n wi' fear was quaking, He coudna sleep but still lay waking, Sae troubled with his panic fright, W h e n near the twalt hour o l night, �8 That Thrummy waken'd, arid thus spoke, Preserv's ! quoth he, I rn like to chock Wi' thirst, arid I maun hae a drink, I will gang down the stair, I think, And grapple for the water-pail, 0 for a waught o' caller ale I Johnny grips till him, and says, Na, 1 winna let you gang awa': W o w will you gang and leave'me here A3ane to die wi perfect fear ? Rise and gae wi me then, quoth Thrumm Ye senseless gude-for-naething bummy, I'm only gaen to seek some water, i will he back just in a clatter. Na na says J o h n I'll rather He But as I'm likewise something dry G if ye can get a jug or cap Fesh up to me a little drap. Av ay quoth Thrummy that I will Aitho ye shonldna get a gill. Sae dow n he goes to seek a drink, But then he sees a little blink O' light that shone upon the floor, Out throngh the lock-hole o' the door, Which wasna fast but stood a-gee, Whatever's there he thinks he'll see: Sae bauldly o'er the threshold ventures. Then in within the door he enteis. But reader judge of the surprise T h a t there he saw with wondering eyes A spacious vault well stored wi' casks (T reaming ale and some big flasks, And stride-legs o'er a cask o' ale He saw the likeness oi himsel'. �9 J u s t in the dress that he coost aff, A thrummy and an aiken staff, Gammashes and the jockey coat; And in its hand the Ghaist had got A big* four-legged timber bicker, Fill'd to the brim wi' nappy liquor, Our hero at the spectre stared, But neither daunted was not car'd, lint to the Ghaist stright up did step, AU' says, dear brother, Thrummy Cap, T h e warst ye surely dinna drink, So I wi' you will taste 1 t h i n k ; Syne took a jug, pou'd out the pail, A id fill d it up wi' the same ale, Frae under where the spectre sat, And then up stairs wi' it he g a t ; Took a gude drink, gae John auither, Bnt never tald him o' his brither That he inta the cellar saw, Mair t h a n he'd naething seen ava, Light brown and nappy was the beer : W h a r did you get it ? John did speir, S iys Thrummy, sure ye ncedna tare, I'll gae and try and get some mair, Sae down the stair again he goes, T o get o' drink anlther dose. Being positive to hae some mair But still he fand the Ghaist was there, Now on a butt behind the door: Says he, ye didri* ill before, Dear brother Thrummy, sae I'll try You ance again, because I'm dry. H e tills his jug stright out below, An up the stair again does go. �10 J o h n marvelled sair, but didna speir Again w here he did get the beer, F o r it was stronger then the first, Sa^ they baith drank till like to burst, Syne did compose themsels to rest, T o sleep a while they thought it best. One hour in bed they hadna been, They scarcely weel had closed their een, When j u s t into the neighbouring c h a n c e r T h e y heard a dreadfu' din and clamour. Beneath the bed-claes J o h n did cow'r, B u t T h r u m m y jump'd upon the floor, Him by the sark tail J o h n did baud ; L y e still, quoth he, fat are ye mad ? T h r u m m y then gaed hasty j u m p , Syne took J o h n on the ribs a thump, Till oti the bed he tumbled down, In little better then a swoon, W h i l e T h r u m m y fast as he could rin, Sets aff to see what made the din. T h e chamber seem'd to him as light, G i f a s t h e sun where shining bright, T h e Ghaist was stanen at the door ; In the same' dress he had afore ; And o'er a n e n t i t , at the wa', W e r e ither apparitions twa. T h r u m m y beheld them for a-wee, B u t deil a word as yet spake he T h e spirits seerne'd to kick a ba f , T h e Ghaist against the other twa ; Whilk close they drave baith back and fore, Atween the chimney and the door. H e stops a while and sees the play, Syne, riiinin up, he this did say^ �11 Ane for ane may weel compare. B u t twa for ane is rather sair ; T h e play's nae equal, say I vow, Dear brother T h r u m m y , I'll help you* T h e n wi' his fit he kicked the ba<, G a r d it play stot against the wa'; Quick then, as lightning f r a the sy, T h e spectres with a horrid cry, a' vanished in a clap oc thun'er. while T h r u m m y at the same did won'er. T h e room WT?S quiet now aud dar&, An4 T h r u m m y striping in his sark; Glauming the gate back to his bed, H e thinks he hears a parson tread, An' ere he gat without the door, T h e Ghaist again stood him before, And in his face did staring stand, Wi4 a big candle in its hand. Q u o t h T h m m m y , Friend, I want to know w h a t brings you frae the shades below, 1 in goodness 4 name command Y o u tell your story just aff hand ? F a t wad ye h a e ? — M l do my best F o r you, to let you be at rest. T h e n says the Ghaist, ' T i s thirty year Sinse I've been doorn'd to wander here ; I n all that time there has been none Behave ( d sae bold as ye have d o n e : S ae if you'll do a j o b for me, Disturbance mair I'll never gie. Sae on your tale, quoth T h r u m m y T o do ye justice sure will try. T h e n mark me weel, the Ghaist replied A n d ye shall soon be satisfied: �12 E£r<ae this aback near forty year, I of this place was overseer, When this L a n d ' s father had the land r A' thin^ was then at my command, W i ' power to do as 1 thought tic, In ilka cause I chief did s i t : T h e Laird paid great respect for me But I an ill return did ^ie, T h e Title-Deeds of his Estate (Jut of the sajue I did hitu cheat, And stale them frae whare they did lie Some days before the Laird did die His son at that time was in France, And sae I thought I'd liae a chance, (xif he sud never come agaiu, T h a t the Estate would be my ain. But scarcely three bare weeks were past, When death did come and grip me fast, Sae sudden that I hadna pow'r The charter back for to restore, Soon after that hame came the heir, And syne got up the reefu rair, W h a t sorrow was come o' the Rights? Thev sought them several days and nights But never yet hae they been seen, As 1 aneath a inuckle stane Did hide them i' this cham'er wa\ Weel sew'd up in a leather ba'; But 1 was ne'er allow'd to rest Untill that I the same confest; But this to do i hadna power, F r a e yon time to this verra hour T h a t I've revealed it a to you, And now I'll tell you what to do. �13 Till nae langsyne nae mony kenfc, That this same laird the rights did w a n t ; But now they hae him at the law, And the neist week the laird maun shaw, Before the court the rights o's land, This put him to an unco stand, For if he didna shaw them there, O a4 his lands he'll be striped bare ; Nae hopes has he to save his state, This makes him sour and unco blate: He canna think whar's rights may be^ And ne're expects them mair to see, But now my friend mark what I tell And ye'll get something to yoursel. Tak out the stane there in the wa', And there ye'll get the leather ba', Tis just ihe same that you did see, W h e n you said that you would help m e ; T h e rights are sewed up in its heart, But see you dinna wi4 them part, Until the laird shall pay you down ,I ust fifty guineas and a crown, Wliilk at my death was due to me, This for thy trouble I'll give thee ; And I'll disturb this house nae mair, 'Cause 1 11 be free frae all my care. This Thrummy promised to do, And syne the Ghaist bid him adieu And vanished with a pleasant sound Down through the laft and thro' the ground. Thrummy gaed back sine to his bed, And cowardly John was verra glad, That he his neibour sawance mair, For of his life he did despair. �14 Wow man, quo' John, whare hae you been. Come tell rne a4 fat ye hae seen. Na, bide, says Thrummy, till day-light, And syne I'll tell you hale and right. Sae baith lay still arid took a nap, Until the ninth hour it did chap. Thrummy syne raise, put on his claes, And to the chamber quick he gaes, Taks out the stane into the wa'. And soon he found the leathern h a ' ; Took out the Rights, replac'd the stane, Ere J o h n did ken vvhar he had been : Then baith came stappingdown the stair, The morning now was calm and fair. Weel, quoth the Laird, my trusty frien', Hae ye ought in our chamber seen ? Quoth Thrummy, Sir, I naething saw T h a t did me ony ill ava. Weel, qnoth the Laird, ye now may gang, Ye ken the day's verra lang ; In the meantime its calm and clear, Y e lose your time in bidiug here. Quoth Thrummy, Sir, mind what 1 tell, I've mair right here than you yoursel. Sae till I like I here shall bide, The Laird at this began to chide: Says he, my friend, you're turning rude. Quoth Thrummy, I'll my claim make good, F o r here I just before you a*, T h e Rights o' this Estate can shaw, And that is mair than ye can do. W h a t ! quo' the Laird, can that he true ? T i s true, quoth Thrummy, look and see, D'ye think that I would tell a lie. �The Parchments frae his pouch then drew, And down upon the table threw. The Laird at this up to him ran, And cried, Whar did you get them, man ? Syne Thrummy taid him a4 the tale As I've taid you, baith clear and hale. T h e Laird at this was fidgin Tain, T h a t he had gat his Rights again: And fifty guineas down did tell, Besides a present fra\» himsel. Thrummy thanked him, an' syne his gowd Intil a muckle purse he stow'd. And cramm'd it in his oxter-pouch, And syne sought out his aiken crutch : And fare-ye-weel, I maun awa, And see gin I get thro' the sna'; Weel, fare-ye-weel, replied the Laird : But how comes it ye hanna' s h a r d Or gien your neibor o( the money? Na, by my saul I, Sir, quo' Thrummy, ' When I the siller, Sir, did win, ( T o ha'e done this wad be a sin.) Before that- I the Ghaist had laid, T h e nasty beast had the bed.. And sae my tale 1 here do eud, I hope no one it will offend : My muse wil! na assist, me linger, T h e dorty jade sometimes does anger, I thought tier ance a gay sm irt lass, But now she's come to sic a pass, That a* my cudgeli lg ond weeping, Will hardly wake her out o' sleeping: To plague her 1 winna try, But dight my pen and lay it by. �DON AL AND D HIS DOG. Atween twa hills that tower'd up to the clouds, Clad o'er with heather, bent, and wuds ; 'Mang rocks, and steeps, and waters falling, W a s Highland Donald's humble dwelliug. Aroun' his hut, beneath his eye, Fed bout a score o' stirks and key, Whiik, wi- his wife and family, were His pleasure aud pecular care : A mang sic barren heights and howes, W h a r grain for food but scanty grows, His family were but sparely fed— Right coarse, and barely were they clad; l or he had wi' the laird for years Had, 4 aginst his will been in arrears For whiik he had to thole the snarl And threats o' the tyrannic carl Till Donald's independent spirit �17 Nae langer was resolved to bear it, And hardships was resolved to scorn— As the saying is, 4 to inak' a spoon or spoil a horn.' He shrewd and clever was, I t r o w ; Spak 4 Gaelic weel, and Lawlan's, too ; And, as he was an honest chiel, By a4 his neighbours liket weel. Ae day—contrivin' what to dae To keep hiinsel' aboon the brae— A plan he modell'd in his head, And thus it down before them laid :— That twa weeks hence in England, there W a d be a great black cattle fair, Wliar kye as he learnt frae men o' dealings Gied double price gi'en in the Highlands. Now if, wi' what he could himsel Spare safely frae his flock to sell, They wad mak' up a drove amang them, He pledged his word he wadna wrang them, But render, at his 0011™' back, A just account 0' ilka plack; Allowing him for recompense Some sma' commission a n d ' s expense.' On this they quickly greed to gie �Itf Out o' their flocks some twa, some three Till a handsome drove colleckit, x\nd to the south his way direckit. H e mounted was upon a pony, A dog his servant was, and crony; And by his side, like ony lord, There hung a braid sheep-headed s w o r d No as a wcaqon o' offence; But, in case o' need, for self-defeijee ; For they wlia liket, rich or poor, Might wear a sword in days b1 yore. Baith ear' and late—baith wat and dry—r The dog and Donald drave the kye : And, after muckle toil and care A* safe and sound they reached the fair. The kye were said—the price was paid— 'Twas down in yellow guineas laid; The guineas in his purse was sneckit— The price was mare than he expeckit. Whilk raised his heart—and I wat weel H e thought himsel' a clever chiel. Instead o' Donald longin' careless About the fair, to keek at fairlies, Or bonze wi limmers, or to gamble, Or spend his cash in ony ramble^ �19 He wisely mounts Highland sheltv, And took the roful on heltv skeftyv As he rode on and cracked his wimp, y gentleman came riding up, Wha bade' Good day/ wi friendly air, And spiered • if he'd been at the fair?' When Donald; without vain parade, Returned him thanks, and said 4 he had f And a his business; tap and tail o't, When at the fair, he la ni l the hale o't. Right crotise they grew wi' ane anither. And mony stories tanfd to ither, Rout kings ain' priests an' great commanders, The wars in Britain, France, and Flanders. When mony niHeVthey'd rode in league," They in a hollow reached a brig Across a burn, that ran wi' ease Down through a glen adorned wi' trees. Now 'twas a bonnie summer's day, When a' the fields were clothed and gay, They stopped, and dropped there tales and jokin', Their horses'lowing drouth to slokeri, And greed some little time to pass, To let them rest and eat some grass. �20 Now, as Donald and his comrade sat Upon the green, they resumed their c h a t : And Donald's dog before their teet Lay stretched, and panting wi' the heat — And Donald's sword, which he did carry Beneath his hodden-grey havarry, The Englishman's attention seized, He begged a sight o% if he pleased Whilk Donald drew and frankly gave him, In confidence he'd not deceive him. The billy thanked him for the sight o't, Then praised the size the mak, an weight o't. And asked at Donald, on his word, If maist he trusted to the dog or sword, Supposing the case, that any pad Should demand the money that he had ? ' The sword,' quoth Donald, * I can wield, And should sic wretch, by road or field, E'er daur demand frae me a shilling, I'd plunged with freedom in the villain ; Yet ne'ertheless, for a' my cracks o't, 1 wadna gie the dog for sax o't. W i ' this the fellow, at the word, Chapped aff the dog's head with the sword ; Syne pointed it to Donald's heart, �21 And swore he with his cash should part, Or instantly, with stabs and cuts, He'd pierce his heart and rip his guts. * 0 1 ' says Donald, * spare my life, F o r sake o' my poor weans and wife! Hae, there's the cash; but wi< what shame And grief maun I face friends at hame ! They'll no believe a word o't neither— Lord help's, we're ruined a thegitker 24 ' Stop,' says the fellow, ? cease your crying Your friends will not suppose you lying; They will believe what you say to them. By evidence which you shall give them From ever man I rob I've credit, By giving me his hand I did i t ; My comrades ami I together This token give to one another ; So one of your hands must go with me So take your choice, which shall it be, < My dog is gane and darling purge, And now my hand - s t i l l worse and worse Hae mercy on me " Donald prays, I'll be a beggar a' my days.' 'No mercy for you, ' cried the wretch ; ^pme, down wi t—I'll make quick dispatek �22 < Weel-then,' says Donald, 4 I submit, But ae repuest grant, if it's f i t ; That is, since my left hand must go, Drive't aff at ae most desperate blow • N o on the saft green, there perhaps Ye'll pine me sair by several chaps, But ye'll at ance mair siocar do t On yonder smooth tree's spreading root.* P u i r Donald's prayer was heard, he then Made bare his left hand shackle-bane, And on the tree root laid it quaking ; The robber now his aim was taking— Baith hands raised the vengfV whittle, And, as he drew with awful ettle, Sly Donald slipped his arm a-jee. W h e n firm the sword stuck in the tree. 4 Have at ye now, ye cruel wretch,' Quoth Donald, 4 I am now your match V that he caught him by the collar, G i e d h i m a jerk that garred him gollar; Donald's blood boiled in a passion, H e gied his face a horrid bashin, His cravate Donald squeesed sae tight, T h a t faith he strangled him maisfc outright. By this means Donald manned to mak �23 His hands secure ahint his back* Syne on the horse he put the billy, His feet he tied beneath his belly; T h e dog, whom Donald mourned full sore, A frightfu' sight of reeling gore, H e on ahint the fellow placed Across the hurdies of the beast. Syne, Donald's triumph to evince, H e mounts his horse proud as a prince—Brandished the sword, and dared the blade To move his hands, feet, tongue, or head; T h a t if he did, he warned him now Up to the hilt he'd run him through. Sae on t h e road they moved alang, And Donald crooned a Highland sang; They reache'd the town, folks were surpris'd T h e rober soon was recognized; The magistrates they brawly kent him, F o r mair nor arice he'd been f o m e n t them, F o r mony years his deeds of horror H a d kept baith far and near in terror, F o r whilk, whae'er wad apprehend him, And to the nearest prison send him, W a d he entitled to regard, And twenty guineas of reward, �24 Whilk Donald got in word a«d deed, With honours heaped upon his head. T h e rober, too got his reward— Stern Justice at him awfu' stared; (3 u lt and remorse his bosom stung, Hence he was tried, condemned, and hung. Bauld Donald soon arrived at ha me, Paid aff his laird and ilka claim ; Mair o' him ye'd tire to hear me tell, But he was soon a laird himsel , Yet ne'er forgot the awfu* shock, When his left hand lay on the block E N D OF DONALD AND HIS DO0 � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 033:Title-page illustration of a young man in casual dress standing in front of a large box of tobacco in a tropical climate. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The comical story of Thrummy Cap and the Ghaist. To which is added The Highland story of Donald &amp; his dog. Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The Highland story of Donald &amp; his dog Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 15 cm Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923288593505154">s0488b16</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Type The nature or genre of the resource poetry Subject The topic of the resource Wit and Humor Supernatural Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow # of Woodcuts: 1 Architecture: hut Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1831-1840 Chapbook Date: 1841-1850 Chapbook Genre: fairytale/folk tale Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Fashion (Clothing): working class Gender: man/men Nature: flower(s) Nature: tree(s) Object: crate/barrel(s) Object: tobacco Outdoor Scene https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/652a66323089c43277b20b91701c0bb2.pdf 1a52b84642d9183b8c841e455bc731ba https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/c9464adbffdb7f77debd28edac47ed91.jpg 81424348a1f287cadb748d0c9d629673 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/1390de5055e3eb8247d9ba936b6fefbc.jpg 35352b8ae5177dd90c2fb506aee9a392 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/f5f77e6a40447f31388ce0cd90d015be.jpg 99e3df8d79580dc118263fd9eae06eb1 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/b1802fabc54802121e2e65c31fa76854.jpg 7554bc433dac93b0f382264a507d94f1 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/d35fc917f57a777443de9ac351e2888d.jpg 513b7185a6fadc3dc06399c53279ed01 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/4870ae49e44b19786f0f5fffb8c29ba1.jpg ebe5c204902ecac0e27371f562eb4897 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/b10f40a0f6fdb8aae20375bb520d760b.jpg 94ac220b75c039c02b4d4fea78291366 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/daa59f49e6888a807c9afc1a56f09242.jpg 423528934bf356d08bcdcde47d7c02f2 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/35503ac4d29fedcbf5188e8ce6f42716.jpg a8d099072eae21cebc45d62a8e52ed79 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/190b060d0755c3820218cf9b573b6d55.jpg bb4bae707566e29686f321759398327a https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/766e4d75d61bde6e8afd4f3847e7bfa7.jpg a89c43ee0058a2bd224c74068ee31831 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/0f9e80893dfb482d9af3cb5904e1e00a.jpg d0b84dd2d606f3832cb1227e39a40247 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/6a98586c6113fad5280698a81d81b9fa.jpg 5cf96750f9a2818cb9de7abcbb26b565 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/af50323502244148e5a21bad70bbce99.jpg 4bb89c1a86ce9d1a8fa2a6526d87d0f7 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ced05fc0a06006132ac326ff80a37970.jpg ce179c317db517dbeb95e82fd86a7eb8 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/c6088d40c77d87311894ff1873b45353.jpg 3d812c64b754201e10d5938523caf776 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/31e5d4597f811b5e5b66b9ee1e5f8557.jpg 926b7b8ca5d29302b1b717d2818a1997 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/eb37147afa2ed9e5e5af116539f589e6.jpg b0908f95471559d242b027f82062347b https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/3c3bad0a7b0e5cd4a2db4da37a55c919.jpg deac63245e40d292e7212273bf905e92 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/291624ed195ac94a6fdf3c80ee1bf861.jpg 40af94bb39d5afc20a9bf8def5ddb661 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/1cb69a49863511e4d9a15e8800d274ce.jpg 3b9a2eda3fabefd38162736fbd1ce1d3 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/b247a1b146db9594ba436476010160c8.jpg 50195f4b79d9c50135e30c753430d08a https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/963b7927a2e28598506b250fbe1da9f3.jpg 6c71d42c32025c4afd94bdc80afaa8d7 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/38110bc4ace8d94e98bbf591eb8e79d1.jpg 6eb8df76196f91589e77c6c36f266553 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Comical Tricks of Lothian Tom with a Selection of Anecdotes Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923288603505154">s0006Cb12</a> Abstract A summary of the resource. A humorous story of the many pranks, tricks, and cheatings of Lothian Tom, from boyhood to adulthood. Featuring many other quirky side characters, Tom always looking for new ways to aggravate his fellows or to con them into giving him what he wants. For the most part, Tom always seems to get away with his tricks with no major consequences. Also, a few humorous anecdotes are appended. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 15 cm Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 ? per National Library of Scotland Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. National Library of Scotland Catalogue Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. March of Intellect How to Read a Sign Board Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Subject The topic of the resource Courtship and Marriage Crime Religion and Ethics Wit and Humor Fairy Tales & Folklore Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/6da60147b51e2fbdb125df57c1ea85c3.jpg 56adbeaa40ee1767ee1a0535d43ec687 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3308 Width 1950 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut on title-page portraying Group of 3 men wearing feathered caps and wearing plaid (1 playing bagpipes, 1 playing drums, 1 holding a sword) standing next to a gentleman wearing a hat and holding a walking stick https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/1d4c045c31b23bd295733198ac9159b7.pdf 88df24f3ce8dcfe89f8e8f2fc47df574 PDF Text Text r ranee T o % b c are added, v |h The PARSON'S FAT WEDDEIi T h e ' C A R E S OF A M A R R I E D T H E V I R G I N ' S LIFft Vv A L K. G L A S G- O W, E D B Y J. & M. R O B E R T S O 3, - L T M A U K E T , SSC*. �C ft ) K I N G H E N R Y V , bis Conqtieft o f F R A N C E , if | in Revenge for the Affront offered by the I F R E N C H K I N G : in f e n d i n g h i m ( i n f t e a d < of ten t O W S of G O L D , the Tribute) three T E N N I S B A L L S , 5 A • S our King lay mujing on his bed* he•-bethought Ivimfeif upon, a xmz f O f a tribute that was due from France, * fcad not; hern paid for lb long a time. Fa! lal, &c* 1 ', G.fae culled for his lovely Page, . • his lovely Page then, called he j » -Sayings Y w r a u f t go to the King in France, to the King m Fance, blr, ride (pcedty. T ^ m went sway this lovely Page, ibis lovely ' the a .away (lev he ? Whea bc ca^e to the King in Fraotfe, he "fell low down.upba his knee* I\\f IvMcr pMti yvu, v;orthj Sir, TEN TON -OF' gold thit IS dm'to he, ''That yoti would Tend turn ho^e, or in ^refcch land you . koxx thJl him fee* » Your Matter's yo; ng zm of tender years, ~ rot fit to come 'ump my degree : 1 will fend him three TENNIS-BALLS> 1 hat .with them ht may learn to play. \ �M4 . < 3 ) ; , 0 ' t h f B fmrned thi\ lovely Pager, th\6 lovely P'ige then retortt$j he. ' And'when he c&mi 10 our'gracious. King, he fell low down or, his beaded * W h a t news? what ntml my trait y Page, what is the news you've b r i g h t t4 naef I've brough i (uch news f ro m t he Kiagia France. < that he aud you -willfce'er agree* H e fays, You're o f young t o i l e r ye^rS* not fit to come' to h k ^ e g r e e i, And he WILL fend j L u t h i e e T E N N I S ^ A L L G ^ / that with them you may leani toplayc Aecftfit me Cheshire and Lsacalhire,-and Derby Wills that are fo f r e e : N o marry M man, nor widow's foe : for no widow's- curfc. fcall go with me» They recraitcd Ch^hire and L^ncalhirc, aad Derby Hills that are fo free : N o marry'd mm, nor widow's f o i l : yet there was a jovial hold company* O then he/march'd into the French land, with aad trumpets fo merrily, And then befpoke the King ra France, lo, f c aiter comes proud X i n g Heary* T h e urH: i l m that the-Frenchmen gave, they kiif'd our ^BAglifttnen fo free \ kilPd m i d e f e n d of the French, the reft o f ihcro tbey \. �( 4- ) ^ Livl^Ylitn we marched to ^ans gates, W|th drums and trmupcts fo i i m i l y , O in-err hcfpoke the Kiog in France, TS^tve mercy Lmxl^n my mea and me, O 1 will fend k m hh tribute koine* • ten tun of gold th^t .was due to he, A n d the'bed Slower that is in all France,, to the Rofe in England 1 will give f i f e , T H E P E O N ' S F a t WE'DBER.. S ) ,f A R; T i N M A S i - 'W come on, • j [ V I ard Chriftrnas Is drawing near : Asv. buve nothing in fhc houfe. ' % to ji^ke.good•:C iitiifhnas cheer., FaL&Cr The little ^ee boy h t V f t ^ d i o g . h y , - • fearing what his father did fay, lather, y e ' l i kill, the Minster's Wedder, _ and • have nnutoa withdtit delay* The PiieS ire has'a. good fat Wedder, Sis €*er fed corn or gr^fs: 1'TC gpfc'fome crumbs of bread in kif pockety PiVwyk 'the Weddfer into ihs h W e * . • W e will pi2t on- the jnelklo ktttl^" \ • and ftuks .helow't. to brake it befi; Arid we will H i the Minuter'a Wedicr,- ' and wVH feve "muno:n';\vithcat afo4toiI* •The.little wee boy 'sjccs.ta the v*ecd*\ add ay fae msrrnV-as- lie fang f ' \ M y i t & z - : t m liH'd the M i s t e r * * W e l d e r , 'N nve^tl thh to; any man. �The Minifier being ia ihe woo.i, leading hts hark agaioft an oak.: If you'llfingthr. longmthe elmreh reborrow I'll* give yea a crown bat and a new coat The morrow It being Ohri&mas iky, the Miniftix hp imlft be die re T h e people all fbckM to the chore V jiift A rfi%*d been gotog to a 1W. S The Manlier** goae to the chursh* the congregation fcr to virw ; Therc'll he a"hoy V ^ will iing foug lhat Will lie true- , The'little V/ee boy camera the' church, ^ and ay fae merrily as he I -catch'd the Prieit ift bed vfith my mother, I woiii-i not tell dm to any man. You are a liar, fays the a$ iurc's in the pulpit 1 i*ever was in bed with nor yet fo sigh as VJ Prieft I do fiancf | your mother, touch her ha\uL Then you are a liar, fays the boy, \ as fare's la the pulpit you do kneel j \ I catclicd you • in. bed with -my mother, \ ' your breeches hanging dowa to your The Miiiifter being quite a limned, . \ \V the people. a loud huzza $ . Running all mad-out. or the ciinvch, • • crying inch a Prieft wc never faw. �( 6 v * •/• But you W:\rxld ha?e hr^hl if yon knf but feeff, how the litre wee boy kept up the joke? Ruiieiag out after the mkifter* crying^ give me my crown Sir ami my new coat, The Paribn has- run quit<? opt. of, the pari(h5 left hshmd him;his c h u r c h . h p wealth; T h e bey & hh mother fed-well on the Wv*dd6i% ar every meal :h$y 'dm.uk hh health THE C M E S OF A* MLAHKiEU .Lll 7 £, ' Tk M Y gown w ^ of tae. London Mack, j L i ' t . and many a yard about; M y petticoat was a fc&xiet red, and lae'd about my f o o t : Chor. Chen mm i i maid, a maid, arid joy\fkmc to me then* Both meal and drink and rich clothing-, Fin fore i wanted mm* My ftockbgf, they were tightly wrought, made of the fiacft fiik, My (hoes v/ere of the Spanifli leather, my hur kles were of the gilt, jThen, My foork was of the white bleachM linen, as w&ite' as the driven fnaw, T h e b4k that was about my middle* was {ilk and filver a\ The Wads hang black about my neck, ar!d:many a ring therein, l i e cap ot fawn was. on my head, was.*'well worth tea f i l i n g * �T!lere cime a young man to n?y bed-fide, • tidk\l mt i f C would'wdt* " He was* fa fall of roarkfis, f agreed to 'What-be faid Cher Pbfcn i a wife, a aB'd'-loVKIW came t*> shofc* Both care and ii'rile ana n Wearied life, I W'ftite"" - t "' M y gown- it was of' the 'Mack, and Bever a y a r d about; M y peuicoat of the courfeft grky. ' . ail rags ii&trv the Then, &c t My (lockings '^ere the prim-rofe caiTd, , aH clooted roiim! about,;. My t>f Alt Sjpkjoifti I w theft, tiae/b3't6mt> of ihem-wi-re out, fheb', My frnock was of the unbkach'd hard, and many a hole therein ; - The belt that wes about ray middle, was a. goo3 toat&rea firing. Then, &e# The beads bang black about my neck, said ntver a ring therein : ' ' ' The cap cf Bwtt; was on my head, was fearce worth one' farthing. C f i O R U 3: \a;ifc, f y And -hen v/a* I a. w m f . fontnv camc io'san'then, . - Both care at?d ftriFc, ..an^d a, w a r y life*' Tm fare I . , �( T H E 8 ) V I R G I N ' S W A L K* % T O U N G Ccelia in her tender years, 1 .the rofe bur on its ftaliy Fili'd with the VirginVmodeft fears, [lepp'd /forth one cv'n to walk. She oft had heard of Love's blind Bcy ? sad Xvifh'd to find him cat, Fxpe&iiig lor to find the joy, of which fhe'd been in doubt, A plrafant fhady grove fhe fpy*d, wher trembling afpbns fivook. Clofe to it's flow'ry verge did glide, a murm'riog limpid brook. A mentor fishing there fhe founds fhe heard l|fm talk of love, . His crook lay by him on the ground, ^ while thus he prayM to jove. « Grant, mighty Pow*c l that f mjy find, fome eafe within this'bread: ; Grant ilM my Cselia bay be, ldr>d3 and make Amyator b k f u • Cram her to know the force of love, snd to her fwain's ddire, Grant but of me the may approve* a«d ^iore Flf ne'er require, ^ Giafgow, rrintecl by J; 5 M. llobeitfro, S ait market, iSosc � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 009: Title-page illustration in double-ruled rectangular borderof a group of 3 soldiers wearing feathered caps and kilts: two are playing a bagpipe, one is playing a drum, and one is holding a sword. They are standing in a row next to a well dressed man. who is wearing a hat and long coat. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Conquest of France by King Henry Vth. To which are added, The Parson's Fat Wedder. The Cares of a Married Life. The Virgin's Walk. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1802 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923290913505154">s0488b26</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The Parson's Fat Wedder. The Cares of a Married Life. The Virgin's Walk. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut #<span>09: Illustration on title-page of a group of 3 soldiers wearing feathered caps and kilts (1 playing bagpipes, 1 playing drums, 1 holding a sword) standing next to a gentleman wearing a hat and holding a walking stick.</span> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks&nbsp;</a> <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland&nbsp;</a> Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: J. & M. Robertson Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs Subject The topic of the resource War Courtship and Marriage Henry V, King of England, 1386-1422 Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1801-1810 Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: J. & M. Robertson Fashion (Clothing): bonnet (military) Fashion (Clothing): coat Fashion (Clothing): feather bonnet Fashion (Clothing): Highland attire Fashion (Clothing): jacket Fashion (Clothing): kilt Fashion (Clothing): knee breeches Fashion (Clothing): military Fashion (Clothing): sporran Fashion (Clothing): upper class Gender: man/men Musical Instruments: bagpipe(s) Musical Instruments: drum(s) Occupation: soldier Outdoor Scene Weapons: sword(s) https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/c7939eb28486fc07bce3bda06f76d7f9.pdf 782c8e0edd617040a91f071e9ebcc640 PDF Text Text T H E CONSTANT LOVERS; JEMMY AND NANCY OF YARMOUTH. PART 1. Shewing how beautiful Nancy of Yarmouth fell in love with young Jemmy the Sailor.—2. How the Father conveyed a letter to destroy young Jeminy, his daughter's sweetheart.—3. Shewing how the Ghost of young Jemmy the Sailor appeared to beautiful Nancy of Yarmouth.—4. How the Ghosts of these two unfortunate Lovers appeared to the boatswain, and he, having his trial, wag hanged at the yard's arm. THE BLOODY GARDENER. L I K E W I S E A BRIEF HISTORY OP THE EARL OF ESSEX, A GREAT FAVOURITE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH; WITH A LAMENTABLE BALLAD 0R HIS DEATH. TO W I H IS A D D H C DE, DAFT WATTY'S RAMBLE TO CARLISLE. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 95 iSt gs �§ rKAT8KO0 ' f K T • HTU0MH/.7 10 e > o i . ?ri ifo'l is bzrrmoj I'^'omfflY • v' :-f to . <KA 7MM31 I t / i n i f f or' o»lt w«»i> iofi.;^ -wor! f>i!1 J nm-ol K ^ftiroT dltrr O - w o r i ^ . 8 — . J i r u H o i r w a a'l&tifyu/sij «tii , 7 m u i ) l s i m j o / x o i J a a f c o J fo-tt^I ££ IjrtlJussd o ) bstifidqqA i o i i r . 8 orf» y . n i n i 3 t 3 * 0 / 0 7 ^ ^ eititwHo'Uw offi M9dt Jfitt* 8i ' 3 ^ t o a* woH li .Oil •/' ,r':< „ )o 7 J -.diuoansl »1 it;-: » .ariu "u1. a'bifi - -oJt in Jm iitnd io! W, §8 oj, 3 IVdVWUU.V) £K 0 Y d O O J H I " TKOTBIH f • ? i -HTK-AASIJK § /Q* j*orf*> od-i r-orf , Ty j H r i() 19 1 0 M H T J H / M 3TIFL'J07AL 1 joi A SAI^RNXI. TASK?) H T A- *fH KO «A J i A a I J I M I t S l i J 8i>0 s HTi? I.i.jai/ujr i a - Y T T A w n / . a j e u H A O OT a i Se §3 £3 A o< S3 : WO 0 3 Ad D f iia r j a « H 0 0 a a m n o t B^ - a m c c f f i r r f ' ccm. n - i i A i a t i 1 �T H E CONSTANT LOVERfif; 9 .boid iiftsnr o« -f ifn- f quo rftivr bow rror K OR, TRAGICAL LOVES OF ,8iUKhoi XaOT;: ,> 'Jim V Y ! O gnuo^ i>ii», gmccnu&tfa Jutrunv^'f uo^ sodissu ^ JEMMy AND NANCY OF YARMOUTH PART I. Shewing how beautiful Nancy-of Yarmouth fell in lovo with young iemniy the Sailor. :v ' TUNE—" The Yarmouth Tragedy LOVERS, I pray, lend an ear to my story, Take an example by this constant pair ; How love a Ypung virgin did blast in her g w y , .Naaicy of Yarmouth we hear. Slie was a merchant's only daughter, Heir unto fifteen hundred a-year ; A young man who courted her call'd her Li - j vrel, Jhe son of a gentleman who lived near. j W f H'J f f : T Ik*-: 1 r Many long y'fcars the fair maid he admir'd When they were infants in love they agr; • ' : And when at age this young couple arrrv'd, Cupid an arriow between them displayed. Their tender hearts were linked together— But when her parents the same they did hear, They to their charming young beautiful daughte? Acted a "part that was hard and severe. �4 Daughter, they said, give o'er your proceeding; If that against our. consent you do wed, For evermore we resolve to disown you, If you wed with one that is so mean bred. Her mother said, you have a great fortune, Besides you are beautiful, charming and young; You are a match, dear child, that-is fitting For any Lord that is in Christendom. Then did reply the young beautiful virgin, Riches and honours I both do defy, If that I'm denied of my dearest lover, Then farewell, world! which is all vanity. Jemmy's the man that I do admire, He is the riches that I do adore ; For to be greater I never desire, My heart is fix'd, never to love more. Then, said her father, 'tis my resolution, Although I have no more daughters but theo, If that with him you resolve for to marry, Banish'd for ever from me thou shalt be. Well, cruel father, but this I desire, Grant me that Jemmy once more I may sea, Though you do us part I still will be loyal, For none in the world I admire but he. For the young man he sent in a passion, Saying, for ever, Sir, now take your leave ; I have a match more fit for my daughter, Therefore it is but a folly to grieve. Honoured father, then said the young lady, Promis'd we are by the powers above * �« Why of all comforts will you bereave me, Our love is fix'd never to be removed. Then said her father a trip to the ocean, You first shall go in a ship of my own, And 111 consent you shall have my daughter, When to Yarmouth again you return. Honoured Sir, then said the two lovers, Since 'tis your will we are bound to obey, Our constant hearts can never be parted, But our eager desires no longer can stay. Then said kind Nancy, behold, dearest Jemmy, Here take this ring, the pledge of our vows, With it my heart, keep it safe in your bosom, Carry it with you wherever you go. Then in his arms he close did enfold her, While chrystal tears like a fountain did flow ; Crying, my heart in return I do give you, And you shall be present wherever I go. When on the ocean, my dear, I am sailing, The thoughts of my jewel the compass shall steer ; These tedious long days speedily time will devour, And bring me home again safe to my dear. Therefore be constant, my dear lovely jewel, For, by the Heavens! if you are untrue, My troubled ghost shall torment you for ever, Dead or alive, I will have none but you. Her lovely arms round his neck then she twined, And saying, my dear, when you are on the seas, If the fates unto us should prove cruel. That we each other no more ever see �6 No man alive shall ever <$ijoy me— Soon as t^e, tidings of rea«h myrear* Then, like a poor unfortunate lover, Down to the grave I will go to my dear. - -. r » i. — i t' i J! Kfrs Then with a sorrowful sigh fie departed, The wind next morning blew a pleasant gale All things being-ready, the fam'd Mary Galley, Then for Birbadoes sho straightway set sail j m o Off bnnod oxa f t U i W UJOY atf aonitf How the Father conveyed a letter to destroy young Jemmy hi<? daughter's sweetheart.-,. •r ' * j t ,TIIIfQ9t J89169B .DKM'Ju DIUA J}I£3 JBU I JEMMY was floating upon t&E wide ocean* And har cruel parents were pktttskig! i$m whiles How that the heart of-tfeeir beautiful? dfaUgfym/ With cursed gold should strive to beguile. Many a Lord of fame, birth, and breeding, Came to court this young beautiful maid ; But their rich presents and proffers vshe slighted* Constant I'll be to my jewel, she said. Now for a while we will leave this fair maiden, And toll how things with, her did go ; In fair J^arba^qes the sftip fairly arrived, But now observe tliis lover's overthrow. fewoi vloyol yra liifi^noa aiotwsiIT Young Je;mny: Wci3 SWH? m Mature, , riglish She dressed herself in gallant, attire, With costly diamonds she plaited her hair, S3 V Of �And a hundred slaves well dressed to attend her, She sent for this young man to come to her. Come, noble sailaiy she cry'd, can you fancy A lady whose riches are very great, A hundred slaves you shall have to attend you, And music to charfti ypu iii your .silent sleep. In robes of gold, my dear, I will deck you, Pearls and rich jewels I'll lay at your feet, In a pharioi of gold you shall ride for your pleasure If you can fancy me, answer ine straight. Amazed with wonder, awhile he stood gazing, Forbear, noble lady, at length he replied, In flourishing England I've voAv'd to a lady, At my return for to make her my bride. She is a charming, young, beautiful creature, She has my heart, and I can love no tiiore; I bear in my eye her sweet lovely feature, No other creature in earth I'll adore. ovoI'aM oi teb'rfg ftttbort ail-I tt*SKbih Hearing of this she did rave in distraction, Crying,' unfortunate maid, thus to love One that does basely slight all my glory, And of my person he will not approve. Loifds of renown, I their favours have slightod, Nx)W I must die for a sailor so bold :' 'T' I must not blame him because he is constant, True love, I know, is far better than gold. A costly jewel she instantly gave him, Tfeen in her trembling hand took a knife, One fatal stroke, before they could save her, . Qurckly^ dift put an end to her • life. �8 Great lamentation was made for this lady— Jemmy on board the ship he did steer; And then to England he homeward came sailing, With a longing desire to meet with his dear. But when her father found he was returning, A letter he wrote to the boatswain, his friend, Saying, a handsome reward I will give you, If you the life of young Jemmy will end. Void of all grace, and for sake of the money, The cruel boatswain the same did complete, As they on the deck were lovingly walking, He suddenly tumbled him into the deep. P A R T III. Shewing how the Ghost of young Jemmy the Sailor appeared to beautiful Nancy of Yarmouth. IN dead of the night, when all were asleep, His troubled ghost to his love did appear, Crying, Arise, you beautiful Nancy, Perform the vow you made to your dear. You are my own, therefore tarry no longer, Seven long years for your sake did I stay ; Hymen does wait for to crown us with pleasure, The bride guests are ready, then come away. She cry'd, Who is there under my window ? Surely it is the voice of my dear: Lifting her head off her downy pillow, Straight to the casement she then did repair. By light of the moon, which brightly was shining, She espied her lover, who to her did say, �Your parents are sleeping, before they awaken, Stir, my dear creature, and straight come away, 0 Jemmy, slie cried, if my father should hear the We shall be ruin'd, pray therefore repair, At the sea-side I will instantly meet you, With my two maids I will conie to you there". Her night-gown, embroidered with gold anu Carelessly round her body she throws, With the two maidens who did attend her. To meet her true-love she instantly goes. Close in his arms the spirit did enfold her, Jemmy, she said, you are colder than clay ; Sure you can never be the man I admire, Paler than death you appear unto me. Yes, fairest creature, I am your true lover, Dead or alive, you know you are mine : 1 come for my vow, my dear, you must follow My body now to a cold watery tomb. I for your sake refus'd gold and silver, Beauty and riches for you I despis'd, A charming young lady for ine did expire, For thinking of you I was deaf to her cries. Your cruel parents have been my undoing, And I do sleep in a watery tomb, Now for your promise, my dear, I am suing, Dead or alive, love, you are my own. \ �1*0 7sffr • = >- j-1fj>m: ^e'fwifi^'f) PART vm IV. B«w the Ghosts of these two unfortunate Lovers appeared to llie Boatswain, and he, having his trial, was hanged at the-yard'a arm, THE trembling lady was sorely affrighted, Amazed, she stood near the brink of the sea, With eyes lift to heayeri, ,she cried, Cruel parents, Heaven requite you for j o u r cruelty. Indeed I prolnis'd, my dbarest creature, Dead or alive, I would be his -own ; Now to perform my solemn vow I am ready, And to follow him to his watery tomb. The maids they heard the sad lamentation, But the apparition indeed could not see : Thinking the lady was fallen into distraction, They strove to persuade her contented to be, , j : Q I K O'lfi iK)7 woiisf i; )V ,0'fils 10 b£9(l UC But still she cried, My dear, X am comings And in thy bosom I'll soon fall; asleep : When she had spoke, this unfortunate lady Suddenly plunged herself into, the deep. ! « .-"f hi i. VtlWjyH •• ' But when to her father the maids told maker, He wrung his hands, crying, What have i J.done ? Uli! dearest child, it was thy cruel fattier That did provide thee a watery tomb. Two or three days then being expir'cl, These two unfortunate lovers were seen, in each others arms they together were floating, By the side of a ship, on the watery main. The cruel boatswain was stricken with horror, Straight did confess the sad deed he had done— \ �11 Shewing the letter that came from her father Which was the cause of these true-lovers' doom. On hoard the ship lie was tried for the murder, At the yard's arm wfsfs^ing'd for the same, Her father he soon broke his heart for his daughter, Before the ship into the harbour then came. The cursed gold has^used destruction, Why should the rich covet after gain ? I hope this story it will be a warning, That cruel parents may ne'er do the same. True love is better .than jewels and treasure, Riches can never buy true love, I know ; But this young couple,the^ measure, Love was the occasion of their overthrow. .woiiiiiovo i-jii ovoiq i X ->voI out? *meIo m l died ^Jnaod fo a&w od& \ 9*0^ behuoo erfa biol oldon ji y d baA Jbinl ow .^nnov ooi znvr ot 070f bnol JOY ?./ fhcifn .siAazne % e o i f t c . L v- bib wo:t Jissd itejd isd v-iov biquD -n-nr .-hill ajnewi ,n>H &i3( .iWtem on u ivAz , vM <bi.es ^oifT /JTAif ^iri^old I O b'nov >] U > 4©brri o w icdw tu-J ?.u J r u n : * Hah ow modw ot :.:J onuri.fcsv gnunifiiio & 3«orio sv'I tno?. yen <tfoy IOI ; obiasd Mitoasd Luis ,ffoh bus ^nnoy , <cml bnn bnri v>qmo*10\ . ~~~ooiii iol opcode I ii:>xj3ai airfT �THE )iii w, »«rrl 'ioi jj, or! tiiUdmd n- ; ed 'i , !.>f?t iof BLOODY GARDENER'S TRAGEDY. You constant lovers all, pray lend an ear To this relation which I bring you here ? 'Tis of a maiden fair, A Shepherd's daughter dear, True loye did prove her overthrow. She was of beauty bright, both fair and clear, And by a noble lord she courted were; She was too young, we find, As yet fond love to mind, But little Cupid her heart did ensnare. His parents were very high now in degree, They said, My son, she is no mattfi for thee: If you'd our blessing have, Grant us but what we crave, Pray wed.none but to whom we shall agree. For you, my son, IVe chose a charming bride, She's young, and rich, and beautiful beside; Of temper kind and free, This match I choose for thee— A shepherd's daughter of so menu degree! �13 If that by us you 11 not be rul'd or led, From our presence you shall be banished 5 No more we will you own, For to be our son ; O! let our will be done, or we'll end the strife. Madam, if I a begging witli you should go, Contented should I be in doing so, So that I could but have The girl that I crave— No cursed gold should part my dear and me. Was she as poor as Job, and I of royal line, And lord of all the globe, she should be mine ; His mother said, in scorn, My son is noble born, And with a beggar's brat shall ne'er be join'd. He hearing of his mother saying so Tears from his eyes in fountains did flow ; A promise I have made, Her heart I have betray'd, No other for my bride you e'er shall see. A snare then for her precious life she laid, And for to act the thing which she then did With her gardener she agreed, To do this bloody deed, Her butcher for to be and dig her grave. To the bloody gardner, she gave eighty pound, To murder her, and lay her under ground ; All in a grave so deep, In everlasting sleep, That her fair body never might be found. He wrote a letter, and sent it with speed, Saying, My dearest love, with h?ste proceed, �14 b'hn^d ioa il ooy su iv dear Meet me to niglit, my .dea Something I will declare: Poor soul! she little thinking of tho deed. She threw the fetter down and run with speed, Thinking to mqet her own trpe love iiadeet}; She search^ the garden round, But no true lovc; she found : At length the bloocjy gardener did appear. What business have you here, madam, I pray ? 0, are you come to rob ; p y garden gay ? She said, 110 thief I am, 1 wait for a young man, Who did appoint this night to meet mp here. He iiotliiiig more did say, but took a knife, And bade her straight prepare to lose her ljJfec She on iier knees did fall, Ancl to heaven did call, 0 ! welcome, welcomo cloatli, my fatal stroke ! Was this done, my dear, by your cresign ? it by y<j)ur jmr^jitsy most uj^nd, My .life is thus betray d? Farewell! fQiicUove, she, said, I hope in lie&ven I a p^ace shallfimd\ The bloody gardener found her life was gone, Dead in the ground hq laid her body down ; T^ith flowers fine and gay, The grave did overlay, Thinking her fair boay never might be found. This youthful lord, indeed, did little know, Next day jjo sero ^is own true love did go ; No shepherdess was there, M l rourici the vallies fair, The pretty lambs were wand'ring to and fro, �15 Lamenting for £he*r tender shepherdess, Then he laid him down upon the grass, T™ Heavens lie did implore, That he might see her once moye,; 0 ! then ye gods, sa^s he, t.sliiall be biessU. . dlftfoob of) I ovoi» £ :i0ri Where shall I go to find that jangeL ,hnght ? She is the pleasure of my heart's delight ; Oh ! i f alive she be, Once. moi^e lot me her .. • ^ j, 0n t [: Or else my soul shall quickly take its flight. i:[{[ ^ • ' '»' i n VjioiVujnt^ ni orfB The woods and groves with him did seemio mourn, The small birds they did sing a mournful tune Saying! Your true love is gone, And-y(pu are left alone : . . ,, Then on a mossy bank lie laid him down. II 1 1 I ' l T ' lie had no sooner clos d lus to resit, / But a milk-white dove did hover on his breast^ r j The fiuttring wings did bear Which wak'jcl him. .fejn his sJcej^,, • T And then the dove took flight, and lie was left. Now wailing for his love,, in sad despair,, To his mother's garden li^j^en (li^kep^ii^ "Whe#etfi'6"dove again he 3id see Sitting on a myrtle tree, With drooping wings it did sorrowful appear. Thou Dove so innocent, Why did you come, 0 have you lost your mate, as I have done ? No shepherdess was there, All round the vallies fair, The pretty lamb3 were wand'ring to and fro. And on the virgin did seem to go, Out of her milk-white breast the blood did flow; �16 To the place it did repair, But no true-love was there ; Then frightened to his mother he did g o : And told what unto him there did appear, Saying, I fear you have kill'd my dear ; For a dove I do declare, Did all in blood appear, And if she is dead, I'll have my share. His mother hearing of what he did say, Did turn as pale as death, and swoon'd away She in distraction run, And told him what she'd done, And where the virgin's body it was laid. He nothing more did say, but took a knife, Farewell the joy and pleasure of my life: He unto the garden flew, And pierc'd his body through ; It was cursed gold that caus'd the strife! These lovers in one silent tomb were laid, And many a briny tear for them was paid: The gardener, as we hear, Was apprehended there, And now all three are in their silent grave. �17 A B R I E F H I S T O R Y Of R O B E R T D E V E R A U I , E A R L OF ESSEX. A GREAT FAVOURITE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH ; With a Lamentable Ballad on his Death. ROBERT DEVEREAUX, Earl of Essex, was in every respect qualified for a soldier, but the most unfit man in the world for a courtier. He was very young when his father died; and was not taken notice of till the year 1589, a twelvemonth after the destruction of the Armada, at which time he hired some ships, and bore Drake company in an expedition he was going upon.—In 1591 he began to grow into favour, and was that year sent to the assistance of the king of France, with some forces under his command, and acquired much fame, so that in 1597 he was sent admiral of an expedition into America. On his return he grew high in the queen's favour, and grew so insolent upon it as often to contradict her ; but this never so arrogantly as in the year 1598, when the queen consulted with three or four counsellors about sending a superintendant of the affairs of Ireland into that kingdom. The queen had thoughts of Sir William �18 Knowles, uncle to Essex; but he as strenuously stood up for Sir George Carew; but with this the queen would not comply, when he, in a^contemptuous manner, turned Ins back upon her, which she immediately msente^'Hy'hiitMg'hW^a box on the ear. The earl now laid his hand upon his sword, but the others interposing, he was obliged to retreat. Essex afterwards made submission, and W^-again rMeij^LiHto foyour. At ihifs timp ihe ^Mficm in IrefaM wa^grown to a 'greaii height, and the lord-deputy being dead, several were proposed .to be sent thither? when Essex hinted he should be glad of that command, to which the queen consented. lie accordingly went with a large army, and an unlimited generahcommisAion, and soon appointed the Earl of Southampton as acting general. The intention of the government was, that Tir-Owen, the most formidable of the rebels, should be immediately attacked ; but the whole summer was spent in the pursuit of some robels of little note.—This conduct obliged the queen to send him some very sharp' lettefe, which lie highly Resented. At' lerigtfft lid ordered the army to march against Tir-OweA ; but ihsteM1 of eom*ng; to' a battle, lie held" a' private parlby• with that tfebel, and' concluded a ttarce wfthMn M six Weokfe,' -renewable dt the end of tliat'time for six we&ks mbr£; and*so oil. But finding his cortdtifct disliked1 in Etiglaivd, he h&stened thither, lfeayirigf Ireland witltout orders ; upon which he was put jftto etasfcody- at tile Itfrd keeper's house. Aftei4J moiitfte':confinement he was suffered to go to his The- qtieeh now ffcoceed^d agaiftst feftn}k>WW)uWhm' sUfteF Kim itnpeaclied in tite sta^chft*liHer,fest thoy'r should accuse him of high treason, or fine him "considerably. She apjloii<t§4:a s^lefetreMVnnteibii!try him at tfie'lordkeepers, where, after a long hearing, they determim AMpW lo tlffoffoifjfiirfimtfp9AT . .mob �19 edhe should lose his places, and remain in confinement dining the queen's pleasure. Had iria behaviour, : during his confinement, answer^- the mildness with which ha was treated, no (foivbt would soon have been restored to- fawu'iirl^tt I © n wa§ too hot-headed, and those about kiin piNt Him wrong counsel; they told him the lmi^i^ti'i^ his enemies, and since he could noi/byfeir imam; he ought to endeavour to remove tdiem biyfrfoimEssex and his colleagues, ,now formed a (teign of seizing upon the palace, and in ift tke queen and her • counsel, and also* upon the Towner ami the city of' London ; but being suspeoted,»he^ wa* summon*' od. before the council, and refused /to appear un<tep a pretence of indisposition. Finding- Iris measure* entirely broken, 011 the 8th of February,: l#0fli W> ing Sunday, , and early in the mdfn^igi h r hadnsofc some noblemen and about 300 wifb liiuj, Thp news- of this beingj brought t£)--thie. queen, sent the lord keeper, with three more of thcf < O W JH : cilj'to learn the meaning of so> tumultuous .fa > > > wnv,ention; but instead of Answering them, iwjfc Uiean into custody, till lie' could-.-'gtft nito ilio tviaq^ expecting to find every body there would jonfci)i#f:fc but in this he was entirely deceived, as not one per son would take up arms. He was now proclaimed a traitor, and a party of- tW-queen's meeting him near St Paul's, there was a skirmish, in which some few were killed, and Essex was obliged to* retreat by watfcri lie /w*iit IW fills own Jious(\ which he fortified in some measure, but in vain. The great ordnance. was -brought against hirm/,and, after a > short defence; iu which some livds were < lost, he surrendered and was brb light to trial, with Southampton, before his peers, impeached <of high treason, convicted, and condemned. Southairripton was saved; but Essex, on the 2&th> .(being AshWednesday) was. priyajbely• ORAEGLITBIK in- the- Tower. .*rf2'ff f'^t? t>r.f *?{{ >(ooi ^Ft �20 ' .-'J Some writers have asserted, that of all the queen's paramours, Essex was her greatest favourite ; that on a certain occasion she presented him with a diamond ring, as a token of her love and esteem, and told him, that if at any time he should be placed in difficult circumstances, on sending her this ring, she would do her utmost to relieve him. But unfortunately for him, in the time of his greatest need, he possessed not this token of her affection—a beautiful lady of quality, whom he loved more than the queen, having previously got it from him. Some time after the death of Essex, the queen was informed of the lady who had the ring, when she hastened to her house, where she found her in bed, in a dying state, and dragged her from thence on to the floor by the hair of the head, uttering bitter reflections and imprecations on her for her conduct.—The queen never recovered her wonted cheerfulness after this affair, but was more retired, and less attentive to public business. Her spirits became more and more depressed, till the spring of 1603, when death put a period to her sufferings. THE BALLAD. ALL you that cry 0 llone! 0 Hone! Come now and.sing 0 Hone with me, For why, our Jewel is from us gone, The valiant Knight of Chivalry : Of rich and poor belov'd was he, In time an honourable Knight, When by our laws condemn'd to die, He lately took his last good night. �si Count him not like to Champion, Those traiterous men of Babington, Nor like the Earl of Westmoreland, By whom a number were undone: He never yet hurt mother's son— His quarrel still maintain'd the right, The salt, salt tears my face run down, When I think on his last good night. The Portugals can witness be, His dagger at Lisbon-gate he flung, And, like a Knight of Chivalry, His chain upon the gates he hung: I would to God that he would come, To fetch them back in order right, Which thing was by his honour done, Yet lately took his last good night. The Frenchmen they can testify, The town of Gournay he took in, And march'd to Rome immediately, Not caring for his foes a pin: With bullets then he pierc'd their skin, And made them fly before his sight; He then that time did credit win, And now hath ta'en his last good night Would God he ne'er had Ireland kti'otav. Nor set one foot on Flanders grounJ, Then might we well enjoy our own, But oh, our jewel can not be found— Which makes our trickling tears abound, • Washing our cheeks—a mournful sight; 7 Still, still his name in our ears doth sound, But now he's ta'en his last good night! •>RIT r jva * ,?LF> * "FR �or 0"Iff ion HU'l HittoO >o nem osoiIT .bnsbiom^o/A lo h*EE ortt oiil to>! DAFT W A T T Y ' S RAMBLE TO i n o d i !7 <frf-jni«rrrlM?TT( m c r t p S f H • .. vol; mrr ' rl . h " l ^ r r h r r r rn:?; ^ i.h I o.<(T IF J U ax me where I come frae, I say the fell syde, O Where ladder and mudcler, aiid honest fVok;beyde, And my sweetheart, 0 bless her! she thoji^ht nyen like me, » H _ For when slid shiilk lipids, the tears tiish^d frae her e'e, U Says I * I itiun e'en get a spot if 1 can, But whafflkH betMe mo, I'll thii& o ' t M , Nan!" Nan was a perfect |)eauty, wi' twee cheeks like codlin blossoms-; tip yerra s^t. on her j£$de my mouth a# water, " Fares-te-weel, Watty!" says she ; " tou's a wag amang lasses, and 111 snje thee nae mair!''—Nay, dun net growl, Nan, says I— ,nrw jiboio bib oixiii todi norft eH " For, mappen, er lang, I'se be jnais&n* mysel';' Sae we buss'd, and I tuik a last luik at the fell; On I whussl'd and wander*d ; my bundle I flung O'er my shoulder* wheai Cow\ey he efter me sprung, And howl'd, silly, follow! aad fawri'd at myrfit, As if to say, Watty, we mu»net part yet !? At Carol I staid wi' a &trae i' my mouthy And they tuik me, nae doubt, for a promis1' .bum j r fen ! Mgfrr bcog t >'.f Aifi :vj s ' r on tuE The weyves com round me in clusters—" What weage dus te ax, canny lad ?" says yen. " Wey, i , �?3, three pun and a crown : wunnet beate & hair 0* mi b M 9 * « f # h » m r. « Dui—wey I cufi ploughs sow, "mow, shear;ffinish, dlkfy ftiilk, ktirh, W c k i M , fcife ar'^Mfffleiid cargear, dance a whompype, nick a n?tg\s tail, hunt a brock, or feight iror a yen o' mv wefeht in 10 aw Croglin parish.'"/'' * * An a u m i b e a ^ ^ ^ y ^ ^ c d f ^ W ^ e ^ taw&T* But that day, I may say't, aw my sorrow began. ol]>k>t ivy '3 i n <o?>mqqirt bite rfiwg oowi iw .wo/ Furst, Cowley, peur fellow! they h&rtgM i' the -r(f.G->nstreet,,Y jj^//' elnfw a 6f W m J w Awi sMnn'dj eod' fdrgie them! 'for ehooil W tlrefr isii*tffT»ftt voIwoO tooq mtblhi I flriW 1 cry'd, and they caw'd me poor half witted clown, And' banter'd and follow'd me all up and dowri i Neist my deam she e'en starv'd me tliattWter liv'd j-fweei^ifv/ >[iii'>;'il an oi b'irrirtoi n i l 00?. o f Her. ha*d words; and luiks wad hae frecten'd tfie : oudetfiLnisbrt eoimra o^IH moostau^IGW She had a lang beard, for aw t'warl' like a billygoat, wV a kiln-dried frosty face, and then the smawest leg 0' mutton in aw Carel market sarvcd the cat, me and her for a week. The bairnS meade sec gam 011 us,' and thundered at the tapper, as if to waken a corp ; when I opened the duir, they threw stour i' my caw'd me daft Watty; Sae I pack'dri4pmy duds S^lien niv quarter was out, A i i ^ w f ^ w e a ^ r riiy ^clM', Suin my reet hand breek pocket they pick'd in a fray* , Aim ART And wi' fifteen white shillings they slipp d clean away, Forby my twee letters frae mudder and Nan, Where they said Carel lasses wad Watty trapan ; �24 *o m i l ft Jonnnw B bflfl nirq oojffa Ay, there were some forgery chaps had me just sign my neame. " Nay," says I, " you've getten a wrang pig by the lug, for I cannot write!" Then a fellow like a lobster, aw leac'd and feathered, ax't me, " Watty, wull te list ? thou s either be a general or gomeral." Nay, I winnet, that's plain ; I's content wi' a cwot a' mudder's spinnin laxg&S wonoa y rrr vrn J r M %Am I terfi JpH Now, wi' twee groats and tuppence, I'll e'en toddle heame, But ne'er be a swodger, while Watty's my neame, Now my mudder '11 gowel, and my fadder 11 stare, When I tell them poor Cowley they'll never see mair; Then they'll bring me a stuil; as for Nan she'll be fain, To see I'm returned to my friends yence again ;— The barn and the byer, and the auld hollow tree, Will just seem like cronies yen's fidgin to see ; The sheep aw ken Watty's voice now. The peat-stack we used to lake round 'ill be burnt ere this! As fo* Nan, she'll be owther married or broken-hearted ere now. An' aw be weel, we'll hae sic fun, sic fiddlin, dancin, drinkin, singin, and smeukin, till aw's blue with us— Amang aw our neybors sec wonders I'll tell, And never mair leave my auld friends or the fell. • U - OT^m M l THE END. Y ' i j t d eavrt T i n ^d'lO i isQ b ru '/'nit ©loriW � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/a71f3d72321459fdfc223b410cbf56de.jpg c33f6ad688c5c2ee9b26537231df9057 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Constant Lovers; or Jemmy and Nancy of Yarmouth. Also, The Bloody Gardner. Likewise a brief history of The Earl of Essex, a great favourite of Queen Elizabeth; with a lamentable ballad on his death. To which is added, Daft Watty's Ramble to Carlisle. Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The Bloody Gardner Brief History of The Earl of Essex, a great favourite of Queen Elizabeth; with a lamentable ballad on his death Daft Watty's Ramble to Carlisle Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923291353505154">s0488b29</a> Description An account of the resource 95 printed at foot of title page Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Essex, Robert Devereux, Earl of, 1565-160 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/868a63828e40c732c41c06ee07c7a23b.pdf f789250ceb01b940e3c6fe1c98e3e254 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/0c96be058e81268ba24db8a04e8cc0ac.jpg 9db8729bc61f26a3e8bee9892de89b41 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Contented Old Couple; and Tune Your Fiddles: Two Favourite Scots Songs. Composed by the Reverend John Skinner, Minister at Linshart, Author of Tullochgorum, &amp;c, To which is added, Tibby I Hae seen the day: A favourite Scots Song. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133953505154">s0141b34</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Tune Your Fiddles Tibby I Hae seen the day: A favourite Scots Song. Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Chapbook #28 in a bound collection of 54 chapbooks Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1798?} per National Library of Scotland Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of musical instruments on the title-page. Subject The topic of the resource Ballads and songs Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a> ESTC#: T34006 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Language A language of the resource Scots Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Brash & Reid # of Woodcuts: 1 Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1791-1800 Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Brash & Reid Musical Instrument: harp(s) Musical Instrument: horn(s) Nature: flower(s) https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/2b02a47083f1bda832dbc08fcab998ac.jpg f2b71d2e64ca2ce91dbc360e7070df50 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3238 Width 1902 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/b720ceddfe2fcf50eef7b59373f0bd38.pdf 6f50e0e1ee420fa01c7c70c154a70e0e PDF Text Text AFTY MILLER MI'S TAKEN BATCHELQR TO WHICH ARE A3 DEI?. F A R E W E L T O THUNDERING ROARING B E A.O T I F U L S P R L A S G O W, G, GU.N5. N ,A N A FA y o u RIT E H U N T I N G G I N G Y. S O N G. 1 - 1. & M , R O B E R T S O N , Sdtmarkei, '-lH®?. - �•T H E C R A F T ON, M I S T A K E N Y M I L FT H & B A T C H L E FU . EL OR. ¥ CIT7 gallant! pf'Britain, I pray now draw near, Trie tricks of a mijlec you quickly fhall bezr> h ^ffitlemar; had a fine water mill, .And m it this poor honqft milter d|d dwell, But fortune did frown as it. doth appear, f ie could pay ho tent -for the fprase of'two rear.' Fal lal de r a ) , k . d e , etc. T h e Landlord re£o!v\l he would make no t r i f e t T h o ' greatly itrfUni d with the poor Miller's wife, ITnrj e$ M j i k r , he cry\i, I beg vou'llnot moan. For i t you catj't pay me, piuv let it a 1 one, Come, come to the tavern* it h niy dedgn, T o givf yo?i tire thare of a bottle c£ wine. Fal lal de ral, etc. Bring mellow wine, as we af- may fup^ofe i Landlord cries Ms-Ikf, my mm4 I'll fe > ? T]f true, I'm in lore '^-irh your And if you'll confen!y I ft} all ly by her SSJ^ I ft&sui furrtnder with r he£rt •Ths rent drat you cwemjs a/*d give the , • FaMa! dc r a i / e r c v . ^ "* • c Kind Sir, fays the- Miller, I grant, your defire, T V wife Vat your will ?y you pieafe to iy by her -I freely cunfent, you JhaH &a?e your will, Init now lei's hate writings concur rsi&g the mSI 5 W i t h aM nay. heart the Landlord diq fay, We'll have them dr£wWl#fs without fe'^re delay* Fal lal de raV- �I 3 i / • duotn the Miller, Jfc will be a jeer, • If that we in public do B r i t app«ur ; T o Uvc. both our credits, aaad bring k to I have tn the meadow ^ d.*stit j ilie ai'a, That will appear better the torn Ufa: ta ft!!t For- the lend of the a.fe you mail give rnv t h e tpir. Fal h i de ral, etc. Well faid,(ajstWLafidtor4»^3t will tf^heftrife, But y ou know that my meaning's to I y with your wif*. Indeed, fays the^Miiler, yoifivaliti 3 ve your delight* Bur who ChaU we get this bond for to write ; As fortune would have it tke Parfon came by, T h e Landlord he faw him, and, to him did cry* Fal lal do ral, etc. Kind Sir, hecers a bond I beg you will fill, T h a t 1 fiive to t h i s Miller a good water ni|U t And quit him the rent (o* two years And all for the lending t o \ q e bift the afe. That h a foad the Parfoti "did fay, T h e bond i will fill without mere <feUy« Fal lal de ral* etc. W h e n the Miller the bond irt his pocket had go: Took leave of his l a n d l o r d , & homeward trot. H e whirled and fung, hugh'd in his lie eve. T o think how , I s l l a n d b r d he m i i n t ' t o deceive* T h e bond is fecure* the bargain is faft, w In Head of my wife he (hall my ihe Fal lal de ral, etc, T h e Gentleman he was as briflc as an ee!5 And foon the iffeatt morning feme1 courage did fee!i H e callM to his man, and he gave him a glafs, Bay lug, Go to the Miiier arid fetch h h fht afs, ! ' l \ W mind that you get your ilory qmte pvcs Hell-know what you tp$aOj but—^vum k Fai-'.lALde raf, etc, �Jtt—iMBiwiiiMiiiiMii m •»•••• i [ 4 m iniMii»fi !•• m\ m J T h e fervant he-down to the Miller dic>haffe, A n d told him b i ^ M a t t e r trnili have his Ihe aft. T h e Miller he fmil'd, but noihin&he faid, But taking a halter, goes Sown to the m e a d ; f h z b leading tVs, afs u p j aftd :wht« he- b / d o n e > / T h e fervant -fa-id Miller, fJrc- this k high• rcn. . •. N Fal l a i d e fal A etc, . My IvliikrV, Commands TO quickly obey, T h e n taking the a(s|ve led hci: p , : ^ ' As the Mailer'b-adui^r'd, he fw^^p cl out the hall, • And fobn it became'a-Qie a'Va iiaii ! But the wine and the foWls he, kepi for hh pains., For the&fs it was dumb, .and couid not connphnn. Fa] iai de raJ, etc, W h e n her came"to his Maftr-r, be wbifpering-fud, Sir, I've-brought home that rn^rdefomc j'*de, T h a t ' s well* iaid>the Muter^ my cdunfel now keep, I far-cy by this time ilie want3 for to fleep, Go tell thehoiiftk&iper to put her to bed, ~ W i t h ci/an hoi land (heels, and the beft coverlid, v Fvil lal de ral, e t a ' . Ti:e h'oufekeeper <? fervants they h u g h M amain, 3 T o hear that the a is in bed ipuft be late. > ' T h e n madam v.vs.djefv^, m her pimiers fo, ne? t, «Aftd ; 'they;-pusher to bed* Eiid* covered h&r fcetfT h e y bid her ly dill} fo they all went to r i f t . But upw comes. the end and cream'of., the jeft; Fal lal.de raL etc. K\ v U j i . ' T : c Maftq* c i i t c home quite p ! ea^d to the life. And. thought• t&>err/yf*ce the Mil!:-;^ fair wife aiking'his'u^i'i if his dear, w w atleep, . 'Ami.into .the r£bik ^ f a f t i y dtd-sreepl .. J a c k lau&ht till he pilU and cn.^t up for to fee* V]t»v his and Jenny d u N e - i / t o **grec. £>•&{ tic/' N �->.. • ' i s ! \ > ' - He, fat down on; the bed, a ad the afe gave \ •groan % f i e f|id,raVLj dear I beg yoiu'iU)£»t nvaxi j" I long have Vdiftired^'ju/ b e ^ u . t i m ! \ . And r e w I l u r e hoa£ht-ydu, ' will you embrace, 8 / then into be a he tu nhWd Smziti,' . , But to his furpdfc he was iic.k'd oitf afvip. Fal ial ,de rai, <tc» ; 4 •x • f , , , W h a t frhe de vii is this my c h a x h h i d he. Said Jacfe> ptIs tHt afs that cfte'MiHe/ I'v/irmt. That jo^tfe o f a IVliiler has t r c k ' d me a: lift, in Read of hi? ^ e has fent, his ibe'afs. T h e n hc'faid to his k r v m t s , my ^oimfel pr^.y keep, And turn this dam n'd ^fs ktta. the ftftzti • FaUal He- ralf etc. • .• . T h e afs flic was.found the tirxt day at a fair, W h i ch m ad e a]! the con m r y ga (Ter s to ft $ re» T h e 'pinners and fbvoci they tuok from her hide, And h d d it convenient the-afc fhouid be ery'd* X-he Miilef he came, arid the afs he did own, And thro' cHry village the fiery was known. Fal h i de ral 3 etc, F A R E W E L TO S F R I N G . TJ* A H E W E L to fpfing* virgins and ww*,, JL Blithe bfcom when f;f?ron grows chifk. O u r haf>/cflis'c^me, come lads W yearceapfag> T o u r fickies aYe keen, come lads to your r e a p i n g Corns iailt* to glean, piotfghj aud^fo'v* T h e f u u peepe fo broad, and rhe tve-ylighi^isfl^n* T h e dawn :crf the morning throws o i f ^ e grey gown. Come lads lo youf labour, welcome the day* < YQWX hearty r e a l ' s meat shall .yjaw; l a b o u r . » y . �r. *;> Hocgr crbfs his fnculder from the b?jh hcir$ a fl; W|ni(l Nell crofFes the (tile, on her head afuUp^il, Our Cattle well fodder'd, to the cottage hafte, No other piins take, on brown bread make a fen ft. Neither courtly nor colliy nor hook-learnt we ftiow* Plain drdiing." plain dealing is all that we kvow, No cares run acrofs us, but thofe loves we find,. Thofe cared If your fweetheart ptoves but .kitfd. ttMieafli T H U N D E R IN G R O A R I N G GUNS. « G ^ t i e m c n all come liftem to ray merry f o n g v ! i s o f t h enob 1 e H o r n fi d o s 3: U) i d Fe u d r o y a n 15 T h e braved engagement that ever was fee a , "Was by a Brititii fliip in the bay of Carthagcne. C-Ho'r.' Where was thundering and roaring, RaUFing and roaring, Where was thundering and rearing gut]£, Thundering and roaring-guns, So clear was the morning and glorious the day,,} As we were & cruifmg in Carthagene bay> Five fail cf the French \ve ch*iWU for iosaeet, Came bearing down diredly upon the Biitifti With their thundering and roaring, etc. T h e n our admiral gave the % n a l for t& chac?f "When courage appeai'd in each Briton's lace ; T h e Monmouth got up with the b t i v - Foudrdyabt/ And fo fell to firing with their Key ding-o-dpng With thiir thuiidwnng and roaring, etc. At fix ik the evening we faw them e n g a g e T h e Pou drey ant and Monmouth were fp enragVifl They itrovt-ior vldory, but all was ;n vain, p e t iiritons Will always'he lotds of the main, Whfc t b e i r ' t f a i n d i i i t g ^ ^ r c i r f e ^ , �; [ j ] ftrar^hr 0 Cymmons difj>atcV4 by pa-Is deafh, When brave caltn^l Gwd'nzr f&rrender'd his breath, F[&tit on my brave heroes, 'tis 'all I require, Then H^e a Bntirh ^ilor fp bravely did expire ^ By his thundering and roaring* etc. Then Ufce a Ktile dgvil the Monmouth did fight, AgainS the great Odliah in the dead of night, W i t h broadnd« for broadfi d e t a c h other alike. And after Jihirtecn glaiTes compelPd them to ftrike* By our t*anderitig and roaring, etc. B £ A U T I F U L N A N C Y. * " ^ p Was down in a vllley, by the ficjeof a grore, I By a clear chry fta! fountain I faw my true love% T h e bitds were * fingiri**, $he lambs were at play, O n a bank of fweet violets ITK car itlly lay. When kr ft I beheld h*:r my heart wa^ furprizM* By the bloom of her cheeks, and her fp^rkling ^yes j >cungtJt<pid ^afi era?!, he dir^flcd his dart, For the fake of my Nancy the wounded my heart. Now here in this torment f flill do remain, L i t e a thi-^f t hat's fent ene'd,I'm bound i n love's chain, N o peace night or d^y can my heart ever find, Thvr thoughrs of my Nancy fo trouble my mind. Bring me pen, ink, $nd paper* ail tor to write, T© my beautiful Nancy, my joy and delight, SWscharming, beautiful^ fhe';? pretty & fair, There's jigne in the country c«m with her compare. Small bir^s the brandies stc hie (With a mate, T h e dove is a mourning for my bagkfs fate, T h s 4 a r k with h&rfirfe •rimes" atbg ihe air, ' 8;i«gs m*? no ghd tidings from t^y dea:<:£ jjear. �C O • 'Farewcl <3tared Nancy, ttnec we mini psrted be, 111 to.tbv mountsms whtre ncme fhal! me fee, T h e rocks Chafl bide tne, lie bring m e t a my gra^e. So fere we I Naucy, fince 1 cannot you have* A FAVOURITE H U N T I N G S O N G . H A rk ! the Imntfman's be$un to ffmn-d the fhrill coiif>e quickly unkennel the hounds, (horn, ' T f t & beautiful f l i t t e r i n g golden ey'd morn, 'we'llcbace the fox over the grounds See yonder Hts Reynard fo crafty and fly, come fiddle your couriers apape, 1 he hounds have s fcent, and are ;n\ In full cry, they ioirg to be giving him ehace. r T h e \v>rfcirtn are mounted; & fteeds feel the fpur* and fwiftly they fepur i? along, Rjpi;T after the fox runs each muiicsl cur f follow, follow, my boys, is the fonV. Over mountain? and valises they fkina it away, now fleyriard*s aimed ou! of fight, But Tooner than'Iofe him we'll fpen'd all the day in hunting, for that's their delight. By eager piirfuirg they have him at he's fo tii'd, poor rogue, down he lies Now darts up afrefh, young Siiap hm him fafl:, ^ he trembles, kicks, ftruggtes, m d 'dies. G L A S G a w, Printed by }, & M. Robertfon., Sahitiarket, idotn ft � Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Crafty Miller; or, The Mistaken Batchelor, To which are added, Farewel to Spring. Thundering Roaring Guns. Beautiful Nancy. A Favourite Hunting Song. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1802 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923293393505154">s0482b17</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The Mistaken Batchelor, Farewel to Spring. Thundering Roaring Guns. Beautiful Nancy. A Favourite Hunting Song. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of a man, woman, and child selling chapbooks, on the title-page. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks&nbsp;</a> <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland&nbsp;</a> Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/028f830142a6861ae382e941a658dca8.pdf e4ac8c6af51bfe440710f688b0acf8f2 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/714a274eb8b0b65222e0148e3181a34a.jpg a152edf5507f333194dd18f7fcc217e4 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Illustration on title-page of two men and a bull in stable. https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/1e781dcecf65fcee5a21efb974d0ff4a.jpg 07996aebbee23fc58b65b6b193dcc0b5 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/0a54ac150c15f837611d1a937e0d9386.jpg b1a79dd9181507b5fa40fe4dc14af5c6 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/200e764eeb3ad1b9fa9ed191e4af46a4.jpg 72b4e52d638e2d0d6ec1ae6854d8ed3d https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/9432b91c748644d2a947c90c0de95065.jpg 851856db6ea662657cdf9b61e47b71c6 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/50ab44f00e03f2bed89a3b6c3c99456a.jpg 7009515c40becb24f5c1ccca14f850ee https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/24097788892907ba23e9efa1517d5969.jpg 94289e12b130bb52761e5f386cbdf9c1 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/c4b5f3998c06aba78d3b6a56c418e23e.jpg e332ebcc8a776369fd2ccd4a33c4825e Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 085: Title-page illustration in a single ruled border of two men and a bull in stable. Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The crafty princess, or the golden bull in four parts Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1801 Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923293403505154">s0094b21</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The golden bull in four parts Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Courtship and Marriage Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks&nbsp;</a> <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Abstract A summary of the resource. A fairy tale in which a King is resolved to marry his own daughter due to her extraordinary beauty. When her protests are ignored, the Princess tricks her father into having a golden bull made for her, which she hides in when her father comes for her. Thinking his daughter escaped, the king sends the bull, with the princess still inside, to a Prince whom the Princess had fallen in love with. When she emerges in his chambers, the Prince vows to marry her, but keeps her hidden inside the bull until he can return. While he is gone, she is discovered by ladies of the court who throw her into the river. She survives and ultimately is returned to the Prince by a gentleman who finds her, whereupon the ladies are punished, the Prince marries the Princess, and they rule both their countries after the death of her father. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: J. & M. Robertson Type The nature or genre of the resource fairytale/folk lore Description An account of the resource Woodcut #85: Illustration on title-page of two men and a bull in stable. # of Woodcuts: 1 Animal: bull(s) Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1801-1810 Chapbook Genre: crime Chapbook Genre: fairytale/folk tale Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed by J. & M. Robertson Fashion (Clothing): working class Gender: man/men Outdoor Scene https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/e872f3246abd804e3fc9b5381f9815b9.pdf 37b379ecfef4a01cbd6064ffbd793c84 PDF Text Text O R T H E Loyal Lover's Down fat TO WHICH T H E ADBHpj ROY A L O E O R G E> T H E -ML L K I N G - P A I L . S H O R T MY R E P O S E . S T U B B O R N H E A R T, �T H E CRUEL FATHER. Lady's daughter in the weft, about the age of twenty, Acd Ihe had fweet hearts of the beft, both Lords and 'Squires in plenty a But fhe a ^ r ' d her father's cterk* above airmen of honour, But fhe ador'd her father's clerjf, 00 honour dkl;> require* Her father oft-time^ to her Uid, when he aloae (Humect her, Do you mean to difg? ace our Mood, ypu feed sud foolith creature ? To go and marry \vith a flaye, that; has neither birth nor breeding, Sure I no portion will you gi?e> if this be your proceeding. Q then honoured father, fiie revty'd, 1 pray yea ufe ycur p^fUrc* f For 1 adore my d e l e f t joy; above all worldly treaiare. With him I mean to live au^oie, to him I hav^ contented Piiii heaven will pur \Y*ct$ fapplf, T/ith iir^t .w*f4 be cepteutecK �t* * > Her. lather in a , and rhreat'ned to dcdioy her s If that her foify ihc'd purfue, no cicrk fhoiild e'er enjoy her# O then, - (he faid; He muft and wiOg although-you be offended» When from a i j foiemu few I fallt pray let my life be cadetL Upon the table iu the toordf a fowling piece did lf > fler father in a paffioa ftew r and ftr sight at her let .fly* it lighted on her youthful bread* ; and.fli-efell down before him, Thcfe were the lafl words that fee {poke for ever Vil adore hum When he had teen what he hnd d<mes whpr? have I fhiiimy daughter? His rapier then he drew oat forth* utid.flew himfeif fooa after. Iler r a t h e r came into the room§ and both Ore flood a viewing, Widi grief her tender heart did break, ambiticii was their tu:n. Her ioy^er came amongfi the reft, with han^s in (orrow fringing* ftinxi her fair youthful bjcall, - the DioQil then faw ing. ' �How could tier father be h ftyere! why, fo fcvere and craeL ? Could he not laid the fault pn me, and fpir'd my deareit jewel! The beauty of all wfterji, parts* who daily di.! adore me ; Nay, I itkay fay the bed of hearts. hcs bleeding now before me. O how can I prefome to \hc f all in this world behind kee!* No, no? one fatal (trolie I'll give, perhaps then, I may fed her Down hi the fibnt fhadea bdow, where Weeding lovers wander s ' Infill pouring out fad grief Had woe, they daily did ly uaden : A fwprd he from his fide drew out, and ilnv.hinifdf foon after* _ ; like* tw.Mo"p] lovers fair, t«sey died bath together, They both were buried in one grave, jolt like two lovers loyal; ' Jrlay God prcferre att yon that lovfe, and fend y011 bo Jfuch trials T H E R O Y A Is GE O R G E . The fad and difmal rtory, V , / which proceeds from dpi*head coaft The Roy a! George and ail Uer'gfcry* �( 5 ) * TliiVicell hundred fouls there psruli'd i - melancholy for to hear!' Many iatherlefe.aad widow's, mourn for the-r r&Jaiic&S' dear- • It was the tv/catj-auith of A^giift, that did prove, the fatal day . That good Ihip was there repairing} before they did fee out for iea»" But a (qua! of wipd ariilag, great's our cauie for to lament* In throe nuawes, moli larpniingi - fliip and crew to bottom weo-u Such a difmai (cem of horror, never mortal eyas did fcc r This brave ihip which was a rerrosv to the dariog euemy* She was the pride of .all the navy, for her fuccch and courage br&wy Pity 'tis for the brave bailors* who have got a wat'ry grave i Keicpeafeh that brave commander, the youogeft admiral wc have. But ah l both he and his,brave failars, alfhaVe ptrifti'd ui the waves! in battles he was ftil! vi&oriosis, he did govern his fleer with fkill j tiis actions were ciWii'3 with foecefs* lm death with, grief our lie^ns do-fill �This mo ft melancholy /ubjeci, from each eye mull draw a tear! Such ad? final u en£ of hon or, . near to Spkiiex! did appear The beach ami hopSts at the point, were all filled wish, the dead * In each look nothing but dejection, each human heart for them did bleed Children creeping for their parents ; widows for their h-nfbands dear ; The difmal cries of thofe were finking, did pierce th-e heart of all did hear. But none could give the leafl afliftance, to this brave and goodly (hip, Now in the Wav.s without refinance, (he lies fourteen fathom deep. What a lofs is it to Britain, id fo critical a time, f o r io 1ole fact) brave marauders, and gal km fadois in their prime: Whofe flout asid urdaunted courage, French and Spaniards both have felt Onr enemies were made to tremble at iht name cf Kempeafelt May- Heaven fupport our Briiilh Heroe aad from danger keep them free* J ad fend m ot-t into his ftatian, as .he, - �Heaven preferve cur Royal 5ovV<*igo, long m*y he tft&.*csptrp iwaiy,' ? B?s fleets and arrSie's be vi&orioos, over e^ery enemy. [ T H E MILKING : . x P A I L. 5 R the biufiimg D Eher half thelky had fpreaft,' ^• purple veil When izll) crofsM th£ dewy lawn, with ) • . Oil her hea l m Her brow >s month of fWet, her cheeks were rofy ted / •Her drcU was white ar.d lovely neat, xas upik-;>ai) orr her he id. While ntmphs who breath the city air* > their moi mag§ \tafte in bed j \ p m z sa!!v fing* as &v4ark clear, with milk-pall on her head. Her floe-black eyes their luftre take, train virttfs only bre3 i Her hofoni ne'er felt coafcious ache, fince im!k-pai! graced her head. For courtly dames * ne*er fliali fret* but ah I would Sally 'we'd, •Fd blcfo the (pot we*R2cr with miik»pJl on; her h$adJ - - �( 8 ) S H O R T R E P G S E, ELow on foft winds, defcend loft rais* • <' to foothe my tender woes \ . ' Ycur fofemn mafic lulls my pain, • and gives me llwtt repofe. The fr/n that makes all jptuare .gay, diftyrbs my wearied *;yes, And in dark Andes t Watte the day, where echo Helping lies. The & pity mr, O gentle lo?e ! and come to my relief, 'Let innocence and virtue prove, a fsicrificc to grief. MY S r U Q B O R N H E A R t r r EN years5 lilce T roy, ray ftfl&hgrn heart, .4 wkhftoocl the u flank of fond ddire : Bui now, aht:;! I feel the fmarf, poor L like 'Troy, lam fet on fire. With care we may a pile fee ere* , and from all; common fpark? deft ad ; But, Oh ! who can a houfe feore. when the celefttel flames defcemh 11.lis was I fafe? til! from your eyes definitive fire are brightly .given ; Ah I who can rtuin the warm lurpnie, when Printed by lightning comesSaltcisrket, x8o;lo! t.fte J.%. M. Bob*nfe*, from heaven* ��� https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/d1719417220b3f342267238a055c7694.jpg e263156cc07ab7d872053577950ce794 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3248 Width 2009 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Cruel Father. Or, The Loyal Lover's Downfal. To which are added, The Royal George. The Milking-Pail. Short Repose. My Stubborn Heart. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1802 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923293953505154">s0479b75</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The Loyal Lover's Downfal. The Royal George. The Milking-Pail. Short Repose. My Stubborn Heart. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of a man, woman, and child selling chapbooks, on the title-page. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Glasgow Royal George (ship) Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. <a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks&nbsp;</a> <a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland&nbsp;</a> Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed by J. & M. Robertson