Newes out of the West

Newes out of the West:
Character of a Mountebank,
[...] Hodge Leather-Pelch, and Tym
[...] Sir Harry Hart-hole their Land-lord,
and his Friend Sir Clement Councell:
Also of their Travels from Taunton to LONDON,
Their Arrivall at their Physitians Pallace,
The Description of it,
His Sick and Brain-sick followers, Person and Family,
A full Relation of the Medicines hee commonly administers,
of their Operation and Danger Represented by them.

[...] of their Abuses now suffered and
[...] by Authority: With a Remedy set downe,
to the Encouragement of Physitians, illustra-
tion of the Honour'd Art, and generall
Good of the Re-publicque
A well willer to PHYSICK and CHIRURGERIE,
and Deplorer of the now too common [...]
of them.
Printed in the yeare of Grace. M.D C [...] VII


The Argument.

HOdge-Lether-pelch, for some small paine in's thighes
Seekes, help, Tym Hob-nayle do's the same for's eyes.
They trudge to London, where they heare of one
Famous for both to make them good; or none
Hodge gets two Crutches, a helpe which before
He had not : Tym one Eye out, t'other sore.
In this sad plight Returning to their home,
Their hearty Land-lord, bids them both welcome.
Merry Sir Henry Heart-whole, stayes his Friend
Sir Clement Councell, do's his tale Commend
Unto his hearing : though loth (his affaires
Calling him thence) attentively hee heares
The story of their Travels, which sets forth
Desperate Dangers, in some Scaenes of mirth.
Sir Henry Heart-whole and his friend Sir Clement,
The strange Abuses of these Times lament.
Discourse a remedy, and it commend
Unto Authority, and if that lend
A hand; ther's thousands would be sav'd; now goe:
Thrust out o'th World, cum Privilegio.
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1. The

Sir Harry-Heart-hole the Land-lord, and Sir Clement
Councell his Friend, Hodge-Lether-pelch, and
Sir Har.
YOur occasions Sir I know are not so regent
But you may loyter one day more with me.
The mirth perhaps you'le heare, may present something
To excuse your truant stay from your affaires
And somwhat benefit. From such course History
Is often Gather'd sweet, and queint conclusions;
Which figure forth our Follies in a fayrer
Text, then the subtiller sort will give their Errors
And thereby prove Examples, to weane from us
The will's wee have to stayne our pregnant Fancies
With some absurd escapes, which cannot passe
The Generall Censure without blemish,
Sir Clem.
I cannot expect such peeces from that Couple
You mentioned lately.
Come they're Miracles
Which in them have not ended.
Sir, your Tennants
Wayt your Commands.
Sir Harry.
Oh that's well you cannot
Now thinke of any speed; goe bid 'um enter
[Page 3]
Welcome tennants, what Hodge ar't Lame? And you Tym
Blind too, How comes these evils to you.

— By hab, nab Sir, as the Doctor Cures 'um all, Tym tell how thou camst blind a' one Eye, like my Land-lords old Dungill Cock.

Tym Hob-nayle.

— Marry, I tooke a long journey to put it out, e'ne up to London, where che heard of one was par-lous good at the businesse.


And I Land lord, to change for these Crutches, good wholsome limbes, and I ga' money to boote, but I hope Land-lord, you will be still mercilesse to us, and though wee are not able to you any Knightservice in the Wars, Tym holding his blindnesse in Capite, and my lamenesse is Copie hold-fast betweene two Ashen stilts, and Beggery copied (in them) out to mee which I must learn having alienated my bones into Crutches; yet we can do you Yeomans service at the Powdringtub, and shall never want stout Stomacks to maintaine by tooth and nayle your hospitality, with all Commers; Therefore good Land-lord be mercilesse to us —

Mercy-foole, you Logger-head — You spokesman.

I say mercilesse yee Jobber-noll; for if his Purse be full o'money and hee gon's none, e'ut it full still ye Dolt? if hee gon's all in't, eu't his Purse penny-lesse? And is it not so we mercy in his heart yee Dunce? and therefore mercy-lesse Land-lord.

Sir Clem.

Well disputed Hodge : I must bee Sir, a suiter to you for them, goe on good Hodge Lether-pelch.


But Land-lord you will before this honest Gen-tleman, be mercilesse to us?

Sir Har.

Doubt not Hodge, that I'le be harsh or cruell, and before this my friend I'le take but half the Rent, and Tym shall pay no more.


Now Land-lord wee shall pray for your limbes and Eyes, that Age may neither put you into Crutches nor Spec-tacles but that you may see to go many a mile to such charity.

I must be spokes-man must I?
[Page 4]
Sir Har.
But Hodge, goe on, you remember your Travels?

Ch'ave cause I thinke, being Crost with a paine in one thigh and to crosse my wife; c'he went crosse the water, o're the Bridge, and crosse the Country, the nyer way, and then c'he went crosse another water, where there were many wooden houses wit' Guns ah midst on't, lay crosse one ano-ther, with great wooden crosses one above another, upon beacons; and Flags a top o' all, as bigge as our Wake strea-mers, wi'red Crosses in um.

Sir Har.
What meanes he Sir by these?
Sir Clem.
The Ships in Thames, I thinke.

I, che call'd um Sheepe, but che had another Faith, to goe to heaven by; I'me sure che look't like Oaken Castles ith' water.

Sir Clem.
Did any of them give fire to the Guns?

Give Fire co' ye who the d'ile w'ud ha't but them-selves, and che sed they sp ke well, marry 'twas in thunder: Then che askt him what language 'twas che spoke, I'me sure 'twas we' breath, as if't had bin out of a Furnace; — Then che landed at Black-wall, — Well Land-lord, that's a nooke i'th world, tels nothing but lyes; for che sed 'twas Black-wall, and as I'me a Cursend Cripple che saw neither Black-wall, nor any thing 'r was black, but durt, and black-Men, eating a' black Puddings, and some a fleaing one o' those Great black-sheepe, (as they told us) for che puld off the wooll, skin and all.

Sir Cle.
The Carpenters were unsheathing some ships sure?

I, I, Shearing che sed, if wee w'ud a beleev'd um in a dry Ditch 'twas, I think they were clad in Budget-lether with the hayre side inward.


Then, che met with a Sea-Country-man, and che sed a w'ud lead's to a Doctor sh'ud mends all, Then che went many a Crosse way, till che thought che had bin on's way as Tyms Eye is, quite out; Then che sed wee must take a little whirly gig, was not Tym, at a Cursned shore, call Dieks.

Sir Clem.
'Twas a Wherry at Dick-shore Hodge?
[Page 5]

But what heathen people are these to Curson such durty places? And the Whirly-gig-man sed, a must ha' a Groat to carry us to Trig-stayres.


Then Hodge told him hee was a Lazy harlot, to ask a Dayes toyle at Plough and Cart, for a little Padling in the water with two Ovens-Peeles.


And the currish rascall go mee crosse words, and sed a'wud lay me crosse the pate, if I did not the sooner get out o'ns wooden trough. Then my Sea-Country man sed wee'le goe by Land.


And Hodge sed farewell, c'hem glad to h'ear't and that che came not to that purpose, to buy Land ! C'he was not so rich or so thrifty.


And the giglets laught at me so much, as c'he had byn clad in motley with a muckender, that che began to suspect my selfe for a foole, but my Sea-Country-man sed there was a Spurge-maker w'ud dou's good, then che past by many a young trifle, every one with white flaggs, o truce before 'um, and sitting at doore, buying o blacke wither'd Plums and apples on a fellow, with a three legg'd flasket on's head, that sed 'a had the Pip-in's mouth, I think then che came to Rattle-crosse, and a little further, my Sea-Country-man, poynted to 'a painted Shop: full o white pots, and sed there was the Pot-carryer wu'd dou's good.


and Hodge went and make leggs and Cursies to an ill-favoured out-landish Gentleman, in 'a Clay-coloured hayre-gowne, and a black long Vizard scrubing o'ns arse, and my Sea-Country-man tolds'a was a Jew, and that 'a chatter'd Ebrew: but 'a made mouths at Hodge, as if 'a had bin a May-game, then 'a go Hodge his hand to kisse, and we'tother snatch't away the Pome-water Hodge was craunching to quench his thirst.


Che cal'd him Mr. Baboone,o'th Doctors Complexion, but that he e'ut so like a dry-fat. Then out came a fellow with a culour in's nose, as if a' had byn smugg'd ore we red Oker, and che askt which o those two was the Spurge-maker.

[Page 6]

And the fellow with the Brickstain'd face,go' Hodge with a Colt-staffe, such a knock crosse the Coxecombe, made him ree'le two or three Crosse legs to him, but had it not bin for our Sea-Country-man, wee had bin swadled e'saith.


Then che went many a Crosse way call'd — as you may see by Tym's Chalke-booke, go' my Land-lord your membrance booke Tym — and che came to another Spurgemaker a depper fellow and a Saminer of Gudgeons that makes lob-lolly, and spleces broken leggs at Sea —.


Che sed 'a had a Pulpit on's house, made of an old Hogs-head and a what wast Hodge a baudy filthy name t'had?

Sir. Cle.
A Conventicle.

And his name was the name of a weed c'have had it oft e'my porridge :what wast Tym.

They were Elenanders, and his t'other name was — .

Eat-um ye lob-cocke, and I had a mighty stomach to be dealing with him, — well Land-Lord, I pass't so many Crosses that I left nere a Crosse 'e my pocket, and now I am come to bee a crosse to all my friends.

Sir Har.

Well Tenants, your Sea-Country-man, as you terme him, hath done you the honour, as to bring you safe through the trouble and dangerous passages (as I read in your wooden journall) of Black-Wall, Lyme-house, Red-cliffe, Shad-well, over the Rocks of Execution-Docke, by the Land-markes of Wapping the Cloudy Armitage, whereas you say you smel't nothing but Sulpher and Burley vapour, and past, that Cursned place St. Katherines.


I, I, my Kates own name— I thinke they were Cursned both at a Font, for that en't so crooked but shee's as Crosse so God mend's all one, yet that's a Saint, and my Kate's a Divel.

Sir Har.

Well Tym, you are alwayes busie with your sentences, to put houres to the story; but Hodge proceed, being at the Doctors doore do us the favour as to enter.


Nay 'troth surs, soft and faire, che must looke abou her first, But looking up, O'my Conscience Tym, [Page 7] knowst what a wonderment, it was , that the Doctors house should be covered with a Bishops flat cornerd Cap.


And Land-lord, the measel Hodge said, twas a dan-gerous thing, for a Doctors housetop, to weare a Bishops Cap, because Bishops are put down, and if the City Matrums should take it as in contempt, and petition that his house might be pul'd down too, what a case w'ud the great measled Porke be in.

Sir Clem.

Marry in none but his out-side, for his Stye pul'd down, 'a must ene grunt in his naturall place, in rubbish and among the dunghils, but go on, good Ho ge.


Why then che lookt upon the out-side, and Tymm what said I too't?


Marry knavishly enough; Hodge said it lookt as if it had bynn plastered ore we Posset-Curd, which his Patients sav'd for him; with the Over-plus, and a little Pepper; hee dyeted his Mad Wife, and his Man to save charges.


I Tym, but thou hast not told all; when I askt the mans boy over the way that makes great Course browne sheets, hemm'd about with black ropes; I thinke for the huge Doctor to snort and scrub his skales off in, at midnight, the Crack-rope, sed a had feed all — the what did a call um Tym.


Old Beldames o'th Hospitals, to save their Curds on Physicke dayes to wether-boord his Pallace.


I, I, wether-boord so t'was, and that he had caused three thousand Possets to bee made in 5 dayes, for the advan-tage of the Curds.


There was an old woman look't on't 'we Spectacles and said a' was a prophene but cherly fellow to wether-boord his house wee white Lamb-skinns, and wisht the French Rot might thaw his fat sides, and said, t'was no marle her husband could buy none to make gloves, when hee must have the out-side on's kennell clad in'um.

Sir Har.

What say you to this newes my friend? Has it not relish? Dos it not smacke in your fancy?

Sir Cle.
Good Hodge Lether-Pelch go on.
[Page 8]
I would not want one tittle of thy story
For Volumes of Tu quoques.
You Coakses; why so Gentlemen?
Sir Cle.

Prethee Hodge don't mistake me, Tu quoques I said.


And we say we are not such beasts or Coaks'es, to be bought and sold in Latin, or to be Coaks'es in any other language then our own naturall speech.

Sir Har.

Nay Hodge, what captious, go on I say, you had almost spoil'd all.


Well Land-lord in hope you'le ever be an honest man, and be mercilesse to us — But looking a little lower, what said I Tym? Prethee turne o're my membrances in thy Chalk-booke.


First Hodge tel's what the old begger sed that with his tow wooden leggs wayted like a Groome-porter at his doore.


The begger laughing at the Posset Curd, said his house look't more like a — what wast Tym?


Faith, c'has forgot, c'ham such a loblivious measell, the can under-com-sang , nothing but my bum — what say you Gentlemen, when a hor e hath to do with a Mare.

Sir Clem.
Why 'a do's leap her Tym.

Udds niggs, Tym right, che sed his house lookt like a Leaper, and che sed t'was all his Grannam le t his Father as a Pattent to beg by, which inheritance was left him in his tow wooden leggs.


Now Hodge, thou mayst pull down the pride of thy eyes, and look a little lower, what spye'st thou there Hodge-Lether-Pelch?


Marry Tym Hob-nayle Gulleries and ball'd Cunies as they call'um.

Sir Har.
How Hodge what wast? Galleries and bell Conyes?

A path way in the ayre round about his Charnell-house; its like an old churles Ruffe in crinckle cranckles, daub'd ore' we blew Starch, and stifned, to purpose, but what said I to the begger, Tym?

[Page 9]

Like any arrant Cursned Carter living; Land-lord, a told the beggar that there were spokes for his knees in that Gullery and ready turn'd to his hand, if his stumps flood in need of any fresh legs.


The Neighbours say, the great lump o tallow, whose outside lookes like the inside of a Cavalere-but, wast not so Tym?

Sir Cle.
A Cavyare but, Hodge it was.

That he is rowling up and down in that Gullery in a hot day to swelter himselfe in the shade and the coole ayre, but Land-lord, mercilesse Land-lord as you have faithfully promised me, I am now with my eyes betwixt the two Logger-headed posts at his dore, clad in blew-Jackets, like your good Grand-fathers old pow-der-beefe men, and they stand too't as stifly as ift he divell were within u'm.

Sir Har.
Precious Pelch proceed.

The Porch was strongly guarded with the blind and lame.

Sir Cle.
How strongly guardedHodge with such Watch-men?

And Watch-woemen too Sir, or I'me a very shoobuckle, there was such a strong sent among 'um, none durst approach u'm, they smelt like our old persons 6 holes in his armes, leggs, and ankles; that hee dayly feeds we' dry Peas, and Cole-wort leaves instead o Sallads, to keepe low the French Gugawes in his bones or the great blue blotches our Sextons wife hath in both her shin-bones, which she dawbes ore, we' Candles grease and white Chalke, and gives it a nick-name as shee does her husband Nickles, and cals it an Attonement.

Puppy, tis an odd-sent she cals it.
Sir Clem.
An Oyntment, eu't it Hodge.

I, I, an Appointment, but Land-lord ne're a cup Ale, I grow hoarse a little.

Sir Har.

You shall have much adoe to wash your b downe, some drinke there.

Hold Hodge, thou drinkst like a horse.

I may thanke my mercilesse Land-lord Tym, for che can tast no Mault in the water, wn't carouse Tym.

[Page 10]
Sir. Clem.
The Southerne Ayre?
Hath breath'd a nimble finenesse Hodge into
Your home-spunn noddle, but good Pelch go on,
I thirst to heare the sequell.

Doe you thirst to drinke o my Land lords Wel too? Hee is very free of his Bucket — but having knockt, there ap-pear'd an old thing of whit-lether and bads come in, where Tym, thou knowst what a rabble there was too?


I and a stench too Hodge, w'ud 'a poysned a Pole-cat, Land-lord there was complexions of all sorts, The old story i'th Arras hangings hath not halfe so many, far worse then Jacobs and his twelve sonnes faces crowded together in old painted cloth. But Hodge looke back a little and tel's what thou saydst to the two old Gentlewomen in ancient loose gownes and french-hoods that the Carman on a throne, brought softly thither in a black Calves-skin study we lether windowes, on wheeles, with a payre 'a jades yoakt together, and a Pole, set between 'um, that che askt whether they meant to run a Til't.


And a begger woman said we' her whole brood o sons and daughters, at her backe and in her armes, that they were a payre of old Court-whoores, wast not Tym?

Sir Clem.
Courtiers Hodge Courtiers, sure.

I Court whoores Gentleman, that had the Cricke in their thumbes, or their bums, or gums, look Tym in thy scroule.


Crinck-ums ye dolt, and then the begger said t'was a French Commodity, and that they payd deere for their Commodities, and now they hurryed to the Doctors to be rid out, and wish't the Doctor wud stew um in a tub like harlots, that had nothing for her generation at her back, that stuncke o pisse and scraps - what was the name o'th tub Hodge. —


Why a tubb — a tubb, faith c'have forgot, but twas Cursned in Holland i'me sure, A tub — a cur-hellish tub — is there ere such a tub in Christendome Gentleman?

Sir Clem.
A Cornelius tub there is.

I, I, a Cadwallader tub t'was, then che askt the old fellow, [Page 11] with the whip, whether his jades did not understand their own naturall speech of hoy, G woe, [...] but that a must carry such a tormentor in' hands for their [...] pummel'd buttocks.


And che swore, che w'ud [...] Hodge to purpose if 'a talkt so but what wast the trap whoo ed at Hodge?


Why they sed the fellow in the [...] that drove um had brought's horses to the Doctor, to be Cur'd of their leane Consumption, and sed, their had the , and that they were hide-bound, that their ribbs were like hoopes, to keepe in th i guts, they had rotten Cough, the snekup, clubb-feere, blind eyes and the snevill.


But, O my Consci nce Land-lord c'he thought at first, all the red Petty-coates in Taun on had bin tu n'd into red wast-coates; every one had an egg-basket in her hand, with a long ill favoured glasse in't full o todge, looke'd like grounds of Ale, and stu cke like a Brewers sinke, what wast they cal'd them Hodge?

Curr-can alls wast not Tym?
Sir Clem.
Urinals you meane,

I Sir you are a good 'Spositor, wee block-head; shu spoyle all else — there was an old fellow lookt as if he had bin stew'd in Kitchin-stuffe, and 'a had a belly like a Grannum we child, che sed a was hytopsyturvy, the deale mend um, they ha, such names for 'um.

Sir Clem.
You meane Hydroppicke.

I, I, Hy trap-stick Land-lord, and another, puft and blowd, as if 'a had bin broken-winded, or newly run up a hill, a' hawkt such buttermilke spawle up, lookt like the snout-ro-pings of my old yexing jade that has the Glaunders: — there were a great many slung in Crutches, and some that had the very same cough our Priest is troubled with when hee's out in's Sermon. — There were many pretty she parcels of the City in black Maskes, and ruffling in silkes, to know if they were we' child, or how they might bee, the Doctor has one med'cine for um all, or hee's belyed.


And others that made me weake stomack't, they had [Page 12] Scales on their fore-heads, lookt like the halfe dryed durt o my Cart wheeles, or Cow-dung crusted i'th Sunne, and cover'd ore we'yellow Waspes and blew flesh-flies.


And if ever there were need o painting, those Faces lookt so pittifully as if they begg'd for't.


But Land-lord, passing that Golgotha, we were usher'd by a thin fellow, whose bare buttocks peept through his trunke breeches, into the presence of the Gog and Magog, well furs 'a sat stradling foure ells wide, and lookt like a Gyant that had bin knockt into crumples, with a great club.

Sir Clem.
Now we may expect
The Monsters learned discourse; Sir, I have heard
A murmur of him 'mongst the common Rabble,
As if that Curses and more Charitable breath,
Had mixt to speak his name, indeed, a sound
Uncharitable enough, if an inbred goodnesse
Dwelt somewhat darkly in him, which the eye
That viewes at randome could not guesse, it there,
Yet in it selfe it would breake into'th ayre,
And rayse a harmony would please the eare,
Of the more knowing tribe; but when all mouths
That have discreet and modest owners must
Swell with a Language sutable to's actions,
Of pestilent relish, it must carry in't
A jealousie the stench that lives in's brest
Must be as murdering in the wiser thought
As are his mixtures to that wretched crew,
That dare assault his dore to purchase them,
But on good Hodge and Tym.

I marry Tym, heer's a Gentleman w'ud tell a tale to purpose, as God mends, 'a has spoke very wisely, dost understand him Tym?


As much as thou dost Hodge, but o my Conscience I know not what to make on't.

Sir Har.

Well Tenants you speake the truth, and that will shame the Divell.

[Page 13]

The Doctor you meane Landlord, but the first word a spoke to us, a did grunt out and we were faine to speake a whole bottle a hay, to scoure his throat cleerer.


'A then sed we we're full o grosse humors, and that we must take a Sturgeon : but che told him c'had no skill in Fisherman-ship.

Thou lyest Owle, t'was a Stargation
Sir Clem.
A Purgation sure, wast not?

I, I, and the Pickrell, go my [...] one first and emptyed it of eight Groates, and a spick and span new towpence, the deale throttle his weasand with't.

But what wast 'a go thee Hodge?

The d'eale in a Powder, 'che sed it was the d'eales Grid-Iron and a Scummer.

Sir Clem.
How? Stay good Hodge. —

I tell you 'che could not stay one minute when 'che had it in my paunch, the very thought o'nt makes mee clow-nish, 'che must go and untrusse a point, and —

Sir Cle.
Sir! I have read with some delight the hystory of simples,
But what this should bee tis too difficult,
For mee to guesse at.

Faith Sir, the Simple was e'ne Lether-Pelch himselfe ten't worth your anger to study for't.

Sir Clem.
Wast not Tym, Dy gredium and Scamonye.

O my Conscience Gentleman, y'have bin a Doctor too, but y'are nothing like him.

Sir Clem.
Prethee Tym describe him.
Describe him what's that?
Sir Clem.
Paint him forth.

Oh is that all, then on a smoakt wall, with a little smallcole, I will scratch out a great fat Divell though it looke like a Beare, it's but your worships scrowling under, This is a Divell, and there's nere a May-pole blade i'th Town but will understand it, without go'ng to our old Curate.

Sir Clem.
Come Hodge, wee must desire
Your wit in Figuring this peece, I know
[Page 14]
That there is somewhat carries worth within thee,
And thy invention, come then lets survay
The Doctor and each Limbe in its due colour
Lay out, that when we have numbred all, we may
Wonder at's true Dimensions.

Well though I could (when I had my limbes) better hold the Plough then a Pensill, yet I will scrawle him out we my tongue and tell you what a bundle of mortality he is — did you ever see a Romane Nose in a Ballado Country love, ene such a snout has he, dappled with pockholes, and colour'd like Wainscot in Joyners varnish, with a payre of Sachell-cheekes o'th same complexion and hony-comb'd like a course sive, a has a Chin that's mask't in sweat and pox-scarres with heere and there a Brisle stuck in spite on's Nose.


His Joule is curl'd and tufted like a Negroes, and ith' shape of a Mole-hill, nitted we' Vermine as that's we' Pisse-myres — They say he is as brazenfac't as Pitts Cannons on Tower-wharfe, but I don't beleeve't the Mungrell lookes more like in countenance one of the old IronGuns on Tower-hill, that lye in Ambush to cheate some Sea novice or other, as the Doctor does, with the appearance of their greatnesse more then their service, and roare (as he does in his own behalfe) till they split and murder all about 'um.


And Land-lord, hee's larded with Porkes-grease i'th Brisket, and 'a has a flanke like an Oxe hee's buttockt like an Elephant, and Udder'd like a Cow, 'a has a payre of Pumpkinns instead of leggs, and a foot as large as a Bucking-beetle, with a paunch like a brewingfat; A shud be no Gentleman by his armes, for they are almost buryed in their own pits, and from thence there reakes a borish streame, as ranke as an old Gally-slaves, or the slymy Groynes of a wither'd witch, 'a makes a noyse when he walkes as if 'a were threshing or beating Hempe.

Sir Har.
Didst see his Wife Hodge?

Che did see a bundle 'a carrion 'che call'd one, shee lookes like a Beares whelpe, and hee must licke her into shape [Page 15] 'ere she have any, the D'eale send him a Stomack too't.


'Che dances a Morice e'ry Mid-sommer-Moone, we' the Queene a' Fayries, and loves the Dog-starre abominably, and hopes to have whelps by him, 'che sayes that Charles-wayn has eight wheeles, and feares nothing more then that she shall bee hurryed in that Cart, to Bed-lame.


And talkes of a Pedigree, longer then ever was hammer'd out a' South-Wales, che sweares Venus is her granchild, if she bee, and like her, God Scarce might as well a bin enammell'd of a Witch, and the Cuckold Pul-can might a found somewhat else to a done, then to a bin angry.

Sir Clem.

Gramercy Hodge, thou hast honest smooth browes, the Feminine evils are not enoculated 'on 'um.

'Che had some pimpling there 'o late.

Then che sed. U-bi-ther, was an arrant Whore-Master, and the man in the Moone was his Baude, and that a had woed her, and sent Mercury, with a bottle ons water, to sweep the Scales and dand-riffe from her Physiognomy, and Pouch-mouth:and that's Aturne should be the next good thing a' w'ud present her, that she might bee Plannet struck, and bring forth another Sunne, which with A pottle Waterings might make the Stubble on her sweet Pugs chaps, grow a lit-tle faster.

Sir Har.
Well set out Tym : she is mad it seemes?

Mad co ye, che was wedded to the Doctor for the same purpose , and he tooke her for better for worse, to the same end; well Land-lord, shee's a notable Straw-lug-ger, and Vowes the 12 Sines are her owne proper goods, and that she was deliver'd of Gemini at a Gossips feast; when the old mid-wife, had it in Aries, which was a Sine then perboyl'd mum-ble-crust had a mighty mind to 'a bin Leo, and 'a roar'd like one, when Aquarius, had bin fitter for her then the toss-pot.


Che sed her husbands Armes was Taurus, and that she was well skil'd in Harlotry, and that she had added gulls to 'um?

Sir Clem.
Geules Geules.

We 3 singes more Gudgeons for Piss-us, and Capring-horne, which Fur-goe to in-belly-suit

[Page 16]
Sir Clem.
Embellesh it good Tym.

A mad drab tis, and then suddenly cryed out, and sed, che had a Scorpion betwixt her leggs, a Canker in her brest, and Rovers in her Thighs, that put her to many flights, — And so ran away from's.


Then came his Servingman, a fellow in motley that look't as if hee had not slept since the Conquest; hee's a wal-king shadow that grumbles out yes, and no, to all commers, sucks his pawes and the wet nurses, come we' Pis-pots very eagerly, 'a has a begging countenance, and a breath that stinks like a stone Chamber-pot, surr'd white with age, and stale, or a Jurden that has scap't many a scowring both wayes, in an Inne.

Sir Har.
But how did your Physicke worke Hodge?

Worke co ye, it plaid at Tennis e'my guts, I thought the Varlet, had conjur'd a couple a Sawyers into my guts to Saw my puddings e peeces, or a Smiths Vice and pincers, they did so gripe me.


'A Roar'd out, and sed there was a Shambles in's arse a shit red gobbits, and blood, as if it had powred through the sinkehole of a slaughter-house.


Then 'a go me a Cord-an-all enough to a throtled a mangy-dog a blacke drench of soote and bul's gall, w'ud a caus'd a leane spur-galld jade to 'a had the Chyn_cough: well Land-lord, I have heard of a cold sweat (at Plough and Cart c'have had many a hot one) and che could a whistled it a-way with a little Sully-bub; but a cold-sweat do you call it? Tis a medicine for a dead horse, it made my head and my heart ake : it renc't my Maw e'faith : c'had Cricks and Crampes, from my back to my toes : c'he thought a cold-sweat, w'ud a thrust me out o'th world by neck and shoulders : if ever shep-ards wud scare a Nation o Foxes from their Lambes,let them catch one and put him into a cold-sweat, and send him among his tribe agen, and if ever any come neere'um, i'le be cut into trypes and broyld o'th Coales: Why, che was wrung and twisted with it like a course hempen-sheet out o'th cold water

[Page 17]

And the malmsey nos'd chap-fal'n jade, my Landlady sed 'a was a beast to pisse abed and bath in't, when poore Hodge he was in a cold sweat, and did grinne at it, like the deaths head, set in a Jewell o mortality, ore the Church-yard portall, c'he was faigne to wring his mothers milke out on's nose to fetch him againe.

A cold sweat do ye call it ?
Sir Cle-
You are mistaken Hodge,
T 'was not by order but by accident.

How Sir, mistaken! Pray do you go and intreat him we' 8 shillings to put you into a cold-sweat,you'd part with all you have to be out on't; you may lay your life on't, for tis as much as tis worth if you be once in't. — Why? Man, my bum stood where my belly was, and my nose was plac't like a Hawkes at Roost, i'th nape o'my neck : my golls were writh'd like Hoby-de-boodies, or the arrantst Fayry innocent ever slaver'd.


By'th Masse, che thought c'had lost Hodge, and the D'eale had left a changeling, in's roome, as God mends a did so squint and make mouths: and his Oagles did so witter, c'he thought, that c'had, had a Moricedancer in's noddle, his joynts did so twitch, and his chaps did so taber, c'he was ene wishing for a nosegay, bels, and a blue handkercher.

Sir Har.
Thou hadst Convulsion fits Hodge.

Fits co ye? Che was fitted e'faith; but how fit so ere t'was c'ham sure they were Compulsions, — But pray Sir! Goe and buy a cold-sweat on him, make your Will first; bespeake the Cakes and Ale, and take leave of all your friends; forgive your Enemies, and especially your Butcher, the Doc-tor, and if ever you bee at Peace (when you are once in't,) till you are at Peace we' God, Ile make a trough o my hide and serve the Hoggs in't, mistaken co ye?


Yes goe, such a cold sweat as poore Hodge Lether-pelch had, i'le warrant you speed, you'le make such speede, to be out on't, you may chance to breake your neck by't.


Necke co ye, c'he thought the Doctors Hob-goblins [Page 18] bin wringing my necke a peeces, che saw no body and yet che was pull'd and hall'd, like a Traytour o'th wracke, che talkes of the nightmare, but che thought a thousand on 'um had bin tearing my limbes asunder: Then che thought strangely that c'had bin in a Cloud for c'had mists and Fegaries before my eyes, and capring little divels, as if c'had bin at a Puppit-play.


Che wonders, so many will run the hazard to hang or drownd themselves, when they may have some hope o' hea-ven by a cold-sweat, more haste, and better speed: if the Lord Major w'ud but send one Cart full of execution flesh to him, and let him but kill 'um with a cold-sweat, it would so scare the cut-purses, the markets w'ud bee swept cleere o'um for 7 yeeres after.

Sir Har.

I beleeve thee Hodge, and New-gate want much of its revenue, to the making leane of the under Copper-nos'd Jaylors; the Hang-man w'ud fall into a deepe Consumption by it,Long-lane want many a Tiburne bargaine, and the Brokers in Hounds-Ditch translate themselves into absolute Wolves, the more ravenously to feed upon the innocent poor.


O my Conscience Land-lord, you a bin in a cold-sweat too.

Sir Har.

No Pelch, but thy tale has made me have a deepe apprehension of it.


A deep what do you call't co ye, c'ham sure it had almost thrust me as deepe into the ground as c'ham long, c'he thinkes if a Witch were put out o'th World by a cold-sweat instead o burning: all the hellish brood w'ud be so frighted, they w'ud deny their Covenant, bid defiance to the divel, fall to Prayers and bee converted again; but Tym take thy memer-drandums out o thy pouch, and tel's what the man sed that bor'd the Elme-trees rightore agon him.


Why che sed they were Pumpes you puppy: for the Abygale Lucy, Elizabeth, Mary, plaine Joane, Robert, Harry William and Ralph.


I, I, Pumpes, and che sed they wore 'um out faster, then c'he c'ud make 'um and thou askt him Tym: what wast Tym ? [Page 19]


Why, che askt him whether they were all rogues and whores he nam'd that came to the great fat Doctor or no?


I, I, che sed, and laught, and sed they were to pumpe 'um, and then wee sneakt away, and Tym said what a payre o rogues are we to endanger a Pumping.


Twas a merry Piper 'saith, and sed if there had bin a Pumpe ready we must a gon too't too.

Sir Clem.
Some Pumpes for ships they meane.

A sed che had a Brother, w'ud set up a shed next dore to the Doctor and sell nothing but Crutches, Wooden leggs, glasse-eyes, and trotter-bone Teeth, and hop't to bee as grosse as an Alderman in Purse, and the Doctor in Carcase in two Moones: but Land-lord, nere a scrap o' pudding, or messe o Bacon porridge.

Sir Har.

Yes, go in, Hodge and Tym: ther's the carcase of a Goose and a stale Wood-cock.


I'le ha the carcase Tym 'cause it has no leggs, but che hopes, it has other gets Pynions then mine are.


What thy Crutches Hodge? And c'heele make an asse o the Woodcock.


C'heele swing my selfe betwixt Heaven and Earth o my Crutches again to London, and be Pumpe, if thou can'st make an Asse of a Wood-cock Tym: Though it fall to your share, youle sooner make nothing on't Tym, if you have a good stomack too't, but bones good Tym.

Sir Har.
At my last being at London where I lodg'd
In a friends house, we had discourse about
This ranke of people we call Mountebanks
Of whom that vast place do's receive such swarmes,
And of all Sexes, nay of Nations too,
Made out of all trades, (when mis-fortunes, either
Of Vice or Ignorance has beat them out
Of their own Countries, or their Manuall Arts,
That tis a pitty ther's no Law nor power
Ordayn'd to bridle them.
Sir Clem.
Oh Sir, did you know,
[Page 20]
How th'venime of the times hath bloch't the face
Of Justice, and made Vertue hang the head,
You w'ud deplore the miseries of this Country,
That more grone under these base burthens, then
The Sword or Pestilence, with all the Ruines
That waite on Heavens wrath or the brow of Warre,
If there be any loose peece that has lost
Himselfe in Cobling Shooes or botching Stockings
Straight he retires to Phisicke or Divinity,
And so dos mend, and patch himselfe agen,
To underlay his fortunes with his Cosenage,
And botch himselfe up by hypocrisie,
Into a Pulpit Cassock.
Sir Har.
Most ridiculous.
What hath the breath of English-men infected,
The Ayre it can give life and being too
Such Mungrill Serpents?
Sir Clem.
Tis most true, but wort
Not! An heroyick act to cleuse the Common
Wealth, of such dunghills, and i'th hurly burly,
Never abuse the knowing pining Braine,
That sits halfe starv'd with riches in his Pate,
W'ud weigh the wealth of India down if valew'd
To their just worth, nay, pollish them, and set
Them as rich Jewels to the publick eye,
And purchase to our Nation, the reverence
All forraigne clymates owe too't in due debt,
W'ud it not leave unto Posterity?
A Chronicle, but of the date and yeere,
The fulnesse of all yeeres would not wipe out,
Oh I could wake in such a noble passion
And give it breath but to dispute this cause,
Untill the coldnesse of the grave had cast
The night and sleepe it holds in its possession
Over my flesh and Spirit.
Sir Har.
Twere a worke
[Page 21]
W'ud be eternall and as everlasting
In the great benefits it carries with it,
But how perform'd? That question dashes out
All Policies and not unworthily,
Since th'Law hath shar'd a liberty to all
To live.
Sir Clem.
So it be honestly, but what
Faith or credit can a base Imposture
Challenge unto himselfe, or by what Law,
Can he determine Physicke, or Divinity
His own Inheritance? When in neither hee
Is so farre letter'd, as to read the title
And branch the Etymologie: all the right
Hee hath unto those Sacred mysteries,
Is the contemn'd applauses of dry Nurs'es
Porters, and Carre-men; with a heape of Rubbish,
(Tumbled into a multitude) of that making
And some odd scriblings of a learned Jew,
On purpose call'd so, and reduc't into
A darke dispensatory of Receipts,
Treasur'd i'th harlot Library of their Noddles,
And what can this stuffe, by a dangerous hand
(Rashly administer'd) promise but destruction,
To those that dare attempt their use?
Sir Harry.
I see,
You have a smart sence of th'abuse.
Sir Clem.
And must,
Out of a Pious duty to my Country
Their common way of publishing their trumperies,
Under the Pye-ball'd title of elixers,
Makes Vertue such a bastar'd unto those
Barely conceive that truth they read on posts,
To bring them Cheese and Garlicke; when they close
Their wise opinions (in the cursed tryall)
That all the blessings of that noble mistery
Must be o'th same mould and mortall.
[Page 22]
Sir Har.
I confesse, in these Relations goe integrity:
And must lament the cause; yet I have knowne
Some eminent in Office an in Garbe
(It seemes more then in judgement) has proclaym'd
Great miracles of these Monsters. —
Sir Clem.
And enforc't
Their visits to their best friends, who have soone
Curst them and their beleefe, i'th sad conclusion,
But for a remedy?
Sir Har.
It would wipe off the teares
The common Cheeke is every day bedew'd with,
And quit the score, before Heaven which they rashly
Swell to an accompt of murder of themselves
And neerest Allyes, turn'e the grey Beard in Plush
(That's Coacht and hurryed to some queint destruction.)
Into a wiser habit, that at least
Hee may in's wit seeme sutable to's Clothes
And titles; though those gay Materials
Were left him by his Grandsire in his Will
Such silken guls there are, but for a remedy.
Sir Clem.
Wert not a peece of Piety next too
The quenching of infectious Heresie,
Might have a place and call'd the worke of Heaven,
Thus to Reforme these evils.
Sir Har.
Pray discourse it.
Sir Clem.
That none should dare.
To practise Physicke but such as can give
A faire description of their knowledge in't
In some sound worke of theirs; which would put many
True labourers into the Vineyard.
Sir Har.
An excellent way, and those workes. —
Sir Clem.
Publisht by th'common purse.
Sir Har.
I conceive you. And thereby Physick would here only grow,
With its sweet odour and most glorious Tincture,
And set all Nations such fresh Copies of
[Page 23]
The yet but dreamt of mistery, — that they
Would next to their Devotions thinke upon
The honourable thankes they owe and must
Pay to this Northerne Nursery.
Sir Clem.
Then what
By the strick't hand of such Authority
(In th'execution) durty heepes of Maggots,
Would be swept up together all the Dung-Carts
Must for a Moneth fo sake the stifled kennels
And stinking dust tubs, to convey those Mountaines,
Of more infectious carrion out o'th City,
The Gold-finders much change their houres and trade
And hurry out i'th day those loathsome lakes,
And purchase by th'employment fields to lay
Their filth in; and not need, the common gist
To'th necessary worke.
Sir Harry.
What Troopes of Plush
Must trudge; and old chins fether'd white with Age,
With daggled Petty-coates that were lately spew'd
Out of some Hospitall; Taylors drabs, and whores,
Of a most impudent making: with some blasted
Copper-nos'dCrack-brain'd Med'cine makers: what
A killing sunke, the allyes w'ud bee clens'd of
And the streetes emptyed.
Sir Clem.
Nay Sir! Some fine Pageants
That sit i'th chayre of Justice must then pack too,
And if the English want a murdering Army,
To shed among the Irish, that like famine
Would eate them up and make large Valleyes but
One grave untill they swell'd up to the Mountaynes,
Let them but Muster these, and if they don't
Depopulate their Country in five Months,
Mauger their Boggs and Nutio; I'le be stew'd
In Barrowes grease, & serv'd to the Divels Table,
When he to'th Pope Communicates a Morsell
At the Renewing of their league.
[Page 22]
Sir Har.
Where would
Hodge, his Physitian bee then?
Sir Clem.
In a Dung-Cart,
A Chariot that becomes him.
Sir Harry.
Well Hodge what newes now?

A whole belly full. Tym sed c'had a weake stomack and if c'had not a cantle o Cheese a two pounds, a Rye Loafe o sixe pence, and a blacke Jacke, o Sir a shad not beleeve a had a Woodcock in's belly.

Sir Clem.
But what's worse
The Varlets with confronting impudence
Leaves on the bosome of Authority
Murder as t'were by Patent, and makes poore,
The Hospitall Charity, when it shares to numbers;
For what by'th Benefactors, was judg'd sufficient.
To ease a Cities maymed: now'es too little
But for one Precinct.
Sir Harry.
I pitty the abuse.
Sir Clem.
I'st not strange
The loosenesse of some Gentlewomans belly,
Waites on some ancient Lady, heal'd by accident,
Or bawdry, not by Art, or honest actions,
Should be sufficient warrant for these — Mungrils
Halfe men, halfe Monsters to stand in defyance
Of a whole Colledge, all Sage honest men,
As Reverent in their Art, as thei'r in yeeres,
As white in all their undertakings, as
The curled Snow sits on their heads, and browes,
The true somenters of their noble mystery,
And rare examples to all Posterity.
In whose chaste [...] our Progenitours
Planted a full power, to examine, and
Punish these Vultures, now by bribes and filth,
Corrupting the Republicke brest so much
That they Cu Privilegis act their basenesse
In dangerous mixtures, and so either fully
[Page 23]
Eclipse their rights, or weaken those brave men,
They are of no use to the common Good,
Sir Har.
What do's the Law set down, gainst these abuses
In their restraint.
Sir Clem
As they now interpret
The Law; it do's support 'um and break downe,
The ancient priviledges we are planted in,
The Society of Physitians; and
Under pretence of Freedome to all people
In honest wayes to make provision
For their owne Families, and to keepe out
Want: and other irksome Guests attending on't
They let in all, for Ruine.
Sir Har.
Judge of the Law
And Ministers of it charitably.
Sir Clem.
They may as well admit a dabbled Barato
Made out of a hobling Botcher by necessity
And Common quarrels, and dubd Solicitor
By Fish-wives, and such tag-rag-squabling pieces
Into the Throne of Justice, and have borne
The Mace before him to their Courts, As bee
The Champions of these Pisse-pot prodigies,
In consideration of their Golden sees:
And by a Power deriv'd, I know n't from whence
Devest the Colledge of those limits which
Our Predecessours gave them, and made Law
As high and equall, in such Cases, As
Their owne professings?
Sir Har.
Bee not passionate,
Indeed, I cannot discerne, how they can by
True sympathie, determine it, but as
The Colledge may usurpe unto themselves
A number, and, for their owne private ends
Never admit beyond such scopes, which would
Make Physick barren, if from thence they onely
[Page 26]
Must issue, when, from other Countries, wee
Are furnisht with rich Jewels for the Common
Sir Clem.
And from thence flock many varnisht ore,
With title more then knowledge: being the purchase
Of their fuull purses, not their Braines; Theyr empty,
And sicke of Inanition; neither doe I
So fortifie my selfe against all reason,
But if these fellowes that professe so much
Are but endew'd with what is publisht of 'um
Why don't they publish some brave worke of theirs
To be a Testament unto these minutes,
And after ages of their admir'd, and known
Worth in their Arts? W'ud it not clinch the mouth
Of all, and set them off full, and supported
By'th generall voice and hand? from all oppression?
W'ud it not put a Palsey into'th chaps,
(A dead one) of the common brute, and scandall?
That it should fall and trembl but to mention
One syllable of dishonour, if such worth
Could but appeare out of'um.
Sir Harry.
You speake reason.
Sir Clem.
And if not, to force 'um
Into their proper channels for a lively-hood,
Tinker to Tinkering, botcher to his botching.
Their Truls to scowring and their seaventh hee Bastard
To Weaving, Ditching, Delving and such Workes
Nature did fit them Lymbes for, as big and monstrous
As Corineus, or his huge foe Colbrous,
That guard the Shreeves Courts, from flesh flyes that swarme
Out of the Compters Ordnary, where theres
Dyet and place more fit for such thrum'd Yeomen
Then that these times allow'um.
Sir Harry.
Indeed Carts and Cages better suites.
Sir Clem.
With their foule cosenage,
Then private Chambers and Coaches.
[Page 27]
Tym, I hope a' don't meane us.
Sir Clem.
No honest Hodge thou sufferd'd
Under these blazing Commets that portend.
Nothing but death and slaughter when they shine
Brightest.— But i'le collect my selfe.
Sir Harry.
Nobly utter'd Sir,
There is no fraud or flattery in your words.
Well Tym, what was your Physicke?
Why c'had first a Stir-up.
Sir Clem.
A Sirrope Tym, a Sirrope.

I say, t'was a stirrup, it so stirr'd up my Maw, che spew'd up all c'had eaten in five dayes, besides great gobbets of very worshipfull fleame.

Sir Clem.
How Worshipfull?

I, Right Worshipfull and't please you, such as the Major a' Taunton pleased to give his dog out on's owne belly after supper, instead of a Posset.

Sir Clem.
What wast call'd Tym.

Why, che call'd it an Ox-in meale and a Skillet on we simples.

Sir Clem.
Oximel sciliticum simplex, twas Tym.

I, I, sir you must pardon my loblivion, such hard words they are.


Then che gon him a Trough a trough, a Pellet beaten into powder.

Sir Clem.

A Trosicke, honest Hodge, I must help your memo-ry still.


I, I, sicke, che remembers che made me as sick as a dog wee't, I wish't it in's tripes and a tenter hook i'th middle ont.

Che call'd it a Trough-sicke, of All-hands.
Sir Clem.
All-Handulus, Tym.

Dandle us co ye, che dandled my bum so, che c'ud scarce squat in sixe dayes after.

Then che go him a powder che sed it was a Trollop.
Sir Clem.
Ye pose me to unfold this Riddle, a Trollop?

T'was the powder of his old wifesshinbone, for o my Conscience shee's a Trollop.

[Page 28]
Sir Clem.
'Twas called Jallop.

I, I, Gallop, che had it no sooner e'my maw, but it set spurres to my sides, it did swinge me under the short Ribs, and did Gallop through my Guts as if a troope o Horse had been Routed e' my crop; a noose choke him, che had a Troo-per out o'my pocket for't.


A sed che must have a racke o' Mutton, to make broth, but a set Tym on such a wracke, that che was faine to eate the Porridge, they w'ud a bin cold else; but Land-lord, mercilesse Land-lord, as you have promised mee before sufficient witnesse; Tym had no more colour in's face then I had, when you told me you w'ud Rack my rent, mercilesse Land-lord —.

Then che sed I must ha a Coller for mine eyes.

A horse Coller 'twas, conjur'd into a little Glasse: but Tym a sed your Trollop-powder, w'ud spurge thy head but I thinke it powdered your Muggets, and your Coller put you into choller I thinke, it made him stampe and stare like one o your Roring boyes, my Landlady brought up a dozen o' Cans and askt if the Measell were mad to knock for so much Beere, when poore Tym had a Coller in's eyes wrought as dangerou-sly as a Halter almost.

Sir Clem.
'Twas call'd a Collerium?

I good Gentleman, a Colliers. Thumbe che call'd it, as soone as che had thrust it into my eyes, it made me blub-ber like a great-Cow-baby, and put one quite out, che was e'ne bethinking my selfe of a Dog and a Bell, with a begging piece o' Scripture to a howling tone, That 'tis a long Night that never his day, or blind Besses trade, of Repeating a chap-ter o' John with her hands in her placket, and churning o' Pleas with her buttocks, and miscalling the waggish strip-lings, that mockt and slockt about her.

Sir Clem.
Enough good Tym, it growes late Sir Harry?
The Song, the song, Land-lord pray slay and heart.
Sir Har.
By all meanes Hodge?

'Tis to a new tune Land-lord, of old Thomas you cannot.

[Page 29]


COme come away
Why make you any stay:
Me thinkes you doe not flock
To purchase these Elixers:
E'n faith I doe not mock
But is your sweet-hearts quick Sirs?
Her's Sirrope will devour
What ever's Threatned your.


Doe not smother
The truth, though sick o'th Mother,
Here's in this little Pill
A Bawd will surely doo't
Without the Midwife's skill
Let it but once come too't
And if that you are willing
It will not blench at killing.


Or hath a touch
Of the French-man too much
Ceas'd on your scoling bones,
Or does your Griefe nor spare
With midnights Gripes and Grones,
To Tanne the scalpe from haire:
Here's in this Dulcie potion
A Surgeon's boy with Lotion.


Come make tryall,
Here's in this little Vyoll
An Hospitall of Cures,
There's none that ever took't,
Now any paine endures,
Or after e' to forsook't:
'Tis Physick for the Gout,
The Stone, and those look out.


Here's a Gelly
For the Hydropicke belly,
The Wind and water it
With power Conjures forth,
And Cures the Phrenzie sit,
It quickens the Dead birth:
It Cooles a babling tongue,
And makes a Mid-wie young.


Heere is no fraud
In Doctor or in Bawd,
The troubles of this world
From persons of each Gender,
They sundenly have hurl'd
Till Doomesday, Peace they Render:
Fame no Accompt will have
Of them, but from the Grave.
Sir Har.
Come 'tis Dinner time:
And Sir, I hope, this day I shall enjoy
Your company, to morrow morning choose
What early houre you please to take your journey
We will put downe these merry Scaenes, with a
Fresh bowle of Sucke, shall warme our appetites
Unto a competent meale of homely fare
I will not bee denyed.
Sir Clem.
Sir you are
Too poorefull o're mee, and your Goodnesse doth
Extend in bounty, beyond my deservings,
[Page 30]
Your liberall table is not furnisht more
With excellent Vyands, then your free, and noble
Heart is with honest wishes to your Friends;
Which end in faire performances, and Sir
That is the Crowne of all, without which all
Hospitality were but vilde and Counterfeit.
Sir Har.
No more — nay Hodge and Tym you are my loving Guests too
The Doctor has dealt favourably with you
For though your journey, do's returne you shame,
A has left you so, The Blind may lead the Lame.

2. Epigrams.


THus Hodge and Tym how course so e're they seeme
In language, may, for truth bee in esteeme.


In tatters, they, their Dialogue have sent
Abroad, but why? 'Cause truth still naked went.


And though some may Conclude their tale but froth,
Beleev't they are a kinne to Tom-tell-troth.


But if they brand them, with Imposturie,
Tell'um from mee they give themselves the lye.
Though.course, in Tatters, and but froth, they may
Winne, (without Lawyers, or fat bribes) the Day.
The End.
This is the full version of the original text


authority, crown, famine, flood, physiognomy, poor, travel, vice

Source text

Title: Newes out of the West: OR, THE Character of a Mountebank, BEING A DISCOURSE Hodge Leather-Pelch, and Tym Sir Harry Hart-hole their Land-lord, and his Friend Sir Clement Councell: Also of their Travels from Taunton to LONDON, Their Arrivall at their Physitians Pallace, The Description of it, His Sick and Brain-sick followers, Person and Family, WITH A full Relation of the Medicines hee commonly administers, of their Operation and Danger Represented by them. ALSO, of their Abuses now suffered and by Authority: With a Remedy set downe, to the Encouragement of Physitians, illustra- tion of the Honour'd Art, and generall Good of the Re-publicque BY A well willer to PHYSICK and CHIRURGERIE, and Deplorer of the now too common of them. Printed in the yeare of Grace. M.D C VII

Author: A well willer to physick and chirurgerie, deplorer of the now too common neglect of them.

Publication date: 1647

Provenance/location: This text was transcribed from images available at Early English Books Online: Bibliographic name / number: Wing / N1036A Physical description: [2], 30 div. Copy from: Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery Reel position: Wing / 872:30

Digital edition

Original author(s): A well willer to physick and chirurgerie, deplorer of the now too common neglect of them.

Language: English

Selection used:

  • 1 ) whole


Texts collected by: Ayesha Mukherjee, Amlan Das Gupta, Azarmi Dukht Safavi

Texts transcribed by: Muhammad Irshad Alam, Bonisha Bhattacharya, Arshdeep Singh Brar, Muhammad Ehteshamuddin, Kahkashan Khalil, Sarbajit Mitra

Texts encoded by: Bonisha Bhattacharya, Shreya Bose, Lucy Corley, Kinshuk Das, Bedbyas Datta, Arshdeep Singh Brar, Sarbajit Mitra, Josh Monk, Reesoom Pal

Encoding checking by: Hannah Petrie, Gary Stringer, Charlotte Tupman

Genre: Britain > plays

For more information about the project, contact Dr Ayesha Mukherjee at the University of Exeter.