The Invitation.

FIrst I would have my Guests understand this point of Modesty, not to presume to come unto my Feast without bidding, except they bring stooles with them (as un­bidden Guests should do.

Secondly, I observe a Rule of the Italian (which is now of late in great use in England) which is to invite a man most earnestly to Dinner or Supper, hoping hee or [Page 2] they that are so invited, will have more manners then to come: But if they do come, then the Inviters doe esteeme the Guests unmannerly, and that they want good and gentile breeding.

Thirdly, I would have none but such as have the gift of Ab­stinence and Fasting to come to my Feast, for my House stands (as other Gentlemens houses do) in a very wholesome and hungry Ayre, that shall not take away any mans Appetite, but allow­ing every man to depart with a good stomacke to his meate, (when he hath it) which is an ap­parant and infallible signe of health.

Lastly, as many as please to come over my House any Mor­ning, shall be very welcome to breake their Faces before they goe: Or if the greatest enemy I [Page 3] have doe ride within a Mile or two of my Dwelling, let him or they make bold to stay there a Moneth (if they please) and take such as they finde and welcome, for I will be but at ordinary or small charge in providing.

Now Gentlemen Readers, or all of what degree so ever, that doe read this, I pray you all to take notice that you are my Guests, for the entertainement and Dyet you are like to have, I pray takeit in good part, washing is costly, and Soape is deare, therefore I will not have any Ta­ble-cloath, or Napkin fould, for you shall have no occasion to wash your hands, licke your lipps or fingers, nor shall you neede to make use of a Tooth­picke, you shall have no cause to draw Knives, neither shall here be any carving of either the wing [Page 4] of a Coney, or the fore-legge of a Capon: heere is no trouble­some shifting of Trenchers or Platters, nor exception for the highest place at the Board, for the Dyet is a like in all places of the Table, (and to avoyde Pride and emulation) I have caused it to be made and fram'd, neither long or short, or middle size, square, round, or ovall; and so you are all welcome unto my Tantalian Feast, which is drest without Kettle, Pot, or Spit, Dripping­pan, Frying-pan, Ladle, Scum­mer, Cooke, Scullion, Jacke, or Turne-broach: So now at the first sight you may perceive bread and salt, which is first placed upon every mans table, and so likewise at my Feast, and so in good order you shall finde the rest of the Feast follow in their due course and order.

2. Bread and Salt.

BRead and Salt are the first Ushers to the Feast. The Ana­gram of Bread, is Beard or Bared, and though Salt come in with the first, yet Salt Anagrammatiz'd is Last; which signifies that Bread and Salt should be the first broght in to a Table, and last Bared and carried away. But my Bread is not for every mans tooth, it not being made of Wheate, Rie, Bar­ley, Oates, Mescellin, Beanes, Pease, or any Graine, Pulse, or Roote whatsoever. It is neither dough Baked, Baked dough, or burnt in the Oven, neither leave­ned or unleavened, nor any yeast, [Page 6] Barme, or Rising put into it, (for it might fill my Guests with wind in stead of puffing them up with vaine glory.) It hath neyther Crust or Crum, nor is it chip'd or unchip'd; for the colour and finenesse of it is neyther White, Wheaten, Raunged, or Browne: it is neither in the shape of Loafe, Rowle, Cake, bunne, Wig, Manchet, Ruske, Bannock, Jannock, Symnell, or bread-pye, nor is it Cheat-bread, for it shall satisfie every man as much as hee lookes for: if it bee distastfull unto any, let him dippe it in the Salt, and it will be savoury presently.

3. Great and small Oysters.

MY Bawdy Boy, having thus procur'd Faggots, yet hee'l not be idle, but for your better content, the same Tyde hee will fit you with two Bushels of great and small Oysters; for before hee had rowed foure miles, he over­tooke a Katch that was swiming up towards London loaden with Oysters. Well overtaken Katch-man sayes one, Gramer­cy Water-man said the other; wilt thou buy 100. of Faggots, said Bawdy Boy? I know not what to doe with them said the other; but yet I care not if I give thee a Crowne for them: Bawdy boy re­ply'd, I was glad (quoth hee) to take them for part of a desperate Debt, for where I had them, I could get no money, and my [Page 8] house is little, so that I want roome to lay them in, which is the cause that makes me to sell them to thee at so cheape a rate. The match being thus made, the Faggots were delivered into the Katch, and the five shillings was paid to the Water-man, who pre­sently demanded of the Katch­man if his Oysters were good? who answer'd, that his great ones were at sixe shillings the Bushell, (water-measure) and his small ones at two shillings the Bushell: Bawdy Boy said, thou hast be­stowed thy money with me for Faggots, and I will leave it a­gaine with thee for Oysters; I will give thee a Crowne for a Bushell of the great, and two shillings for the small: all parties being agreed, the Oysters were measur'd, and throwne into the Boate: I pray thee Katch-man [Page 9] said Bawdy Boy, give me one great Oyster or two into the bargaine, which whil'st the Katch-man was reaching, the other put off his Boate, and rowed away: The one call'd ho Water-man, thou hast not payd me for my Oysters, the other said, you lye Katchman, you have Faggots for your Oysters; the other reply'd, thou hast mo­ney for thy Faggots, the other answer'd, thou hast Faggots for thy Oysters, and for thy money both, and thou art an ignorant fellow, that know'st not how to reckon right: So away rowed he, and I pray Gentlemen fall to your Oysters.

4. A Coller of Brawne.

WIll Baxted, a late well knowne fine Comedi­an, went in a Mor­ning, on one of the Twenlve dayes in Christmas time, upon occasion of businesse to speake with an old rich miserable House-keeper, and having done what he came for, hee tooke his leave, leaving the old man in his Chamber: but as hee was going out of the doores, he said to the Fellow that let him out, My Friend, is not this Christmas time? Yes that it is said the other; [Page 11] then sayd Baxted, will not your Master bee angry if I doe goe a­way and not drinke? the Fellow said, no sure, I thinke he will not be offended at all for such a small fault: O but (quot Baxted) it is good to be sure, and I am loth you should have any ill will for my sake, therefore I pray you, aske your Master if he will not be angry with you, if I doe goe a­way before I drinke: Sir sayd the fellow, I will not aske him such a question, but I will make you drinke without his knowledge. So into a Celler they went, and strong Beere was drawne in a Horne-cup, and as Baxted was drinking, the Master of the house knockt, and call'd, and whistl'd for his man as if hee had beene mad, so that the fellow was faine to leave Baxted in the Celler, and run upstaires in haste to his Ma­ster, [Page 12] who angryly said, (Sirrha) where have you beene? and what is the reason that I have knock't, and bounc'd so long for you? Sir (sayd the servant) I was giving a cup of Beere in the Celler to the Player that was with you: How, said the Master, thou idle wastfull knave, doe I keepe a Tap-house or Ordinary for every compani­on to tipple in? I'le make thee know it is not my Disposition, nor is it for my Reputation or profit: Truely Sir, said the Fel­low, I could not chuse but make him drinke for shame, hee spake such words that mov'd me so; and with that he told his Master what Baxted said, and that he had left him in the Celler alone: A Rope on him said the Old man, I will goe to him, and bid him welcome, (though but with an ill will) the mad knave will jeere [Page 13] me else. So he went to the Cel­ler, where finding Baxted, hee said, you are welcome, and I thanke my man for having so much manners as to entertaine you; for my head was full of bu­sinesse, and so I drinke to you good Mr. Baxted, and I pray you what say you to a slice of a Coller of Brawne and Mustard this Morning? O sir, sayd hee, I would not say any thing at all to it, but I would doe somewhat to it if I had it; truely Mr. Baxted (said he) and you shall have it; so with an ill will he sent his man for it, who brought into the Celler a goodly Coller of Brawne, whole and uncut, Baxted knowing the Riches of the man, and the mi­serable poverty of his minde, drew forth his knife, with a full resolution to take the Coller lo­wer, though the anger were ray­sed [Page 14] the higher, so with a despe­rate acute stomacke hee cut out a peece as bigge as a Penny-loafe on the top of the Brawne, which he presently consumed, and more for roagery than hunger: in the meane space the sight of the Brawnes demollishing vext the Old man: But Baxted persisting twixt Jeast and Coller, gave it the second cut in the other side on the top, so that it look'd forked like the Signe of the Myter; at which the Old man could no lon­ger hold, or contayne himselfe from speaking, saying, Master Baxted, are you marryed sir? No sir quoth he, I am single, and I keepe no house; the other said, I thought so by your cutting of Brawne, for I doe thinke you doe neither know the price of such a Coller, or what belongs [...] it. Baxted answered him, [Page 15] Sir, indeed for the price I neither know, nor care for, but yet I doe know what belongs to it, which is a cup of Muskadell, if I could get it. So the old Mizer was faine to send his man to the Ta­verne for halfe a Pinte of Muska­dell, to wash downe Baxteds Brawne, who was no sooner gone, but the old man in a rage gave his man warning to provide him another Master, for hee would keepe no such riotting knaves that would entertaine such bold Guests.

5. Powderd Beefe and Cabbage, and a messe of Mustard.

A Water-man (now living) na­med Gilford, dwelt on the Bank-side, and comming home to his Dinner, which was Beefe and Cabbage, of which hee had [Page 16] made pottage, hee prayed his wife to make haste, and take it off the Fire, that hee might quickly dine, and bee gone; and whilst the woman was reaching a Porrenger and Platter, a Cur-dog came into the house, lifted up his legge, and pist in the Porridge­pot amongst the meare and Cab­bage, which the man perceiving told his Wife, and catch'd the dogge, and almost beate him to death: but the woman intreated her Husband to eate his Dinner, for it should bee never the worse, when shee had strayned the Pot­tage through a cleane cloath, but all her perswasions could not make him eate.

6. A Chyne of Beefe roasted.

AFaire Chyne of Beefe was once given to Mr. Iohn Flet­cher, (the Poet) he pray'd his Ho­stesse, (being an old woman neere the Bank-side, where he lodged) to salt it well seven or eight daies, [Page 19] and he would invite some friends to the eating of it: the day be­ing come, and the Chine at the Fire, the Woman had not playd the Huswife so well in salting of it, but that it had taken Ayre, and entertain'd more Tenants than were wel­come: but after it had beene three houres at the fire, Ma­ster Fletcher had a minde to have a slice hot from the spit, and for that purpose came downe from his Chamber, drew his Knife, and cut; and as hee cut, hee espyed Mag­gots drop out, at which hee was angry, but suffering the Spit to goe about, hee cut on the other side, and found it worse: Whereupon Fletcher being alone, (for the Woman was gone forth, and left the Jacke to looke to the Spit) [Page 20] was so enraged, that hee tooke the spit up, and setting his foot against the meate, footed it off, and threw it into a muddy ditch on the other side of the way, and putting the Spit into the Jacke­rope againe, went up to his Chamber againe in a chafe: the old woman suddainly comming in, and seeing the meate gone, was amazed, and stept into the streete, and asked some of her neighbours, if they saw any body goe into her house? one made answer, that Mr. Fletcher went over to the Ditch, and backe a­gaine, but he saw no body else; then the woman went to see, and shee perceived the mudde was newly inclosed over something that had beene cast there in late­ly: so she fetcht a Rake, and ra­ked the Beefe out of the ditch, put it under a Pumpe, and with a [Page 21] wispe, ashes, and sand, wash'd and scower'd it, so that all the Gen­tiles in it were confounded, then to the Spit shee put it againe, winds up the Jacke, which made a noise in his language whir, whir; which Mr. Fletcher hearing, mu­sed what was provided for Din­ner for his Guests and himselfe; the old woman being gone into her back-side, Fletcher stole soft­ly downe the stayres, and pee­ping towards the fire, saw the Chine a roasting the second time, at which amazement hee biest himselfe, saying, Art thou crawl'd thither againe, thou shalt never be remov'd for me againe: so it was roasted, and gave good content to the Guests, but some of them said, it had taken winde.

Gentlemen, I doubt you have sate too long over your Beefe, and therefore a cup of Beere is not a­misse, [Page 22] and then you shall be fur­nish'd with some other Viands.

7. Strong Beere.

TWo Souldiers of old ac­quaintance, having beene long asunder, chanced to meete, and after salutations they agree'd to enter an Ale-house, where a formall fashionable Tapster fill'd them as much nicke and froath with Petars of Tobacco, as made them (in his estimation) to bee reckoned at two shil­lings; they fell to the discourse of their severall Fortunes and Services, the one of Russia and Poland, the other of Germany and Sweaden; they talk't of hun­ger and thirst, cold, and na­kednesse, sieges, and assaults, Artillery, Ammunition, Guns, and Drummes, wounds, scarres, [Page 23] death, and all the perils incident to men of the Sword.

The Tapster over-hearing them, said, that they were the better welcome for being Souldi­ers, and that hee had beene one of that Martiall Traine himselfe in the Low-countries, where (hee thank'd God) hee neither did harme, nor tooke any; the best was, that hee had learn'd so much wit that no man could couzen him: the Souldiers an­swer'd him, that his labour was worth his travell, in learning so much cunning, and so they paid their reckoning, and departed. They had not gone farre, but they met with another of their old ac­quaintance, (a cunning shark) to whom they told the bragging confidence of the Tapster: How said he, will he not be couzned? Tell mee where hee dwells, [Page 24] and goe you two and stay at a Taverne that's next him; and I will first be with him, and then come quickly to you.

The place being told, and the Taverne appointed, the witty Soldier went to the Tapster, and call'd for two Gunnes of Beere; Guns quoth the Tapster? Canns you would say; the other reply'd, I doe meane Cannes, but I have beene so us'd to Cunnes in the Warres, that I forget my selfe, and call every thing a Gunne: So the Beere was fill'd in, and drank, and the Tapster fill'd his Gunnes or Cannes by couples, which they dranke betweene them; then the Souldier said that hee saw a Tapster winne a Wager lately be­yond beleefe; for he brought sixe Cannes of Beere from the Tap all full, in one hand, and set them on the Table, not spilling one drop; [Page 25] Sir, said the Tapster, I dare to lay a Crowne that I can doe that, I will lay as much that you doe it not said the other; so the Wager was layd on the Boord, but whilst the Tapster was filling the Cannes, the Souldier ran away with the money, and straight perceived for all his wit and cun­ning, yet was able to be couzned.

8. Venison and Wine.

A Gentleman dwelt two miles from a Market-towne, where (at a Taverne) hee caused some bottles of Wine to be fill'd to car­ry home, because he had invited some friends to his house to eate a Venison Pasty with him the next day: but his man and him­selfe dranke so hard, that they forgot their Liquor, (I meane the Bottles.) The next day being [Page 26] come, and Dinner ready to bee laid on the Table, they remem­bred the Wine; so the Gentle­man commanded his man to take a Horse, (which was sadled in the Stable) and to ride for the Wine with all speed. Well, to Dinner they went, and the Ser­ving-man to the Stable, the Pa­fry was opened, and to't they fell, and after an Houres time expecting the Wine, now sayd the Gentleman, methinks my man is riding hither in post, I heare the Horse dash; at which words the fellow entred: Hah well said, art thou come said the Master? we have stay'd long, and thou hast made but slow speed; a poxe on't said the Fellow, if I should bee hang'd I cannot finde the bridle.

10. Puddings and Sawsadges.

THe Pudding and the Sawsa­ges will bee cold Gentlemen, if you doe not fall to, and then they will not be worth a sir-reve­rence; and methinks it is an easie peece of Logick, to prove a Pud­ding to bee a perpetuall motion, for it is alwayes moving.

SImon Wadle, a Vintner, (that once kept the Taverne neere the Temple-barre, at the Signe of Saint Dunstane) with some other Vintners, had beene to taste and buy Wines at the Merchants, and having done their occasions, hap­pened [Page 28] into the three Tunnes at Garlike- [...]ithe, where all the meate they could have on the suddaine, was a pound of Saw­sadges; Wadlo being hungry, had no great stomacke to have so ma­ny partners in so small a dish, and having an old rotten Tooth in his pocket, (which a Barbar in Fleet-streete had drawne from him the day before) hee secretly convey'd, and thrust the said Tooth into one of the Sawsages, which he himselfe first tooke into his hand; and after his associates had each one tasted a little, and began to bee quicke and nimble, Wadlo snap'd his old tooth in his chaps, and pulling it forth, shew­ed it to the company; upon the sight whereof they were all struck with feare and amazement, be­leeving by the Tooth, that the Sawsages had beene made of [Page 29] Mans flesh: so they call'd for Sacke and Sallet-oyle, supposing they had beene poysoned; but Wadlo fell to with a good sto­macke, saying that hee could be no worse poysoned with them than hee was: The man of the house vowed that the murde­rous Jade that made the Sawsa­ges, should be burnt. But after Wadlo had eaten up all, hee sent for the Barbar that drew the Tooth, and every man was pre­sently cured, and the Sawsage­woman escaped burning.

11. A Pigge.

A Collier, neere Croyden, ha­ving loaden his Cart with Coales for London, a woman that dwelt neare him that was Nurse to a Marchants child of the City, desired the Collier to remember [Page 30] her humble service to her Maister and Mistresse, and to tell them (God be thanked) their Childe was well; and withall she intrea­ted the Collier to carry them a live Pigge, (which she had put in a bag before the Colliers face:) the Collier tooke the bagge and made it fast upon the top of his Cart, and away came he. When hee came into London where hee should deliver his Coales, hee tooke the bagge with the Pigge, and tyed it under the Cart to one of the spoakes of the Wheele, and when hee had almost unloa­den, a couple of Porters stood and perceived something moove in the bagge, did suppose it was a Pigge or a Goose, or some such creature, which they had borrowed upon some Common or high way, as they came by night: And whilst the Colliers [Page 31] were busied, & absent in carriage, and empting their Sackes, the Porters stole the Pigge out of the bagge, and put in a little cur dogge of their owne, making it fast as they found it, and away go they: The dogge impatient of his bondage, began to frig and fling, as he had bin mad, that the Colliers said, the Divell was new­ly entred into the Pigge; or else the Pig did presage that hee was neare his owne death. Wel, the Cart being empty, the Collier takes the dog-pigge, and carried it to the Marchant, delivering his Message (which was welcome) saying that he must carry the bag backe agen; so hee went to a side Table, and opened it, and putting in his hand for a Pigge, the dogge bit him by the fingers; a pox on yee dee bite, quoth he: what doth he bite: quoth the Marchant, it [Page 32] can not be, I will take him out my selfe, then the Marchant put his hand into the bag, and the dogge snapt him so currishly that hee fetcht blood of his fingers, at which hee was angry, and bid the Divell take the Collier and the Pigge both. At which the Marchants wife laughed, and cald them both fooles, and with that she tooke the bagge by the bottome, and shooke out the dogge: the dogge being amazed, (not knowing where hee was) turn'd round twice or thrice, and leapt over a Hatch, and away ran he home to pick the bones of the Pigge: the Collier hang'd down his Head all ashamed to looke upon the Marchant. The Mar­chant (standing with his fingers bleeding) very angerly asked the Collier that if hee had no bo­dy but hee to abuse, and play the [Page 33] knave withall, to bring him a dog instead of a Pigge: to whom the Collier replyd, and also affirm'd with an oath, that his intent was free from abusing him or any man else, and that it was a Pig in the morning. The Marchant swore it was a dogge, the Collier swore it was a Pig; and so much good may it doe you with your Pig.

A Gentleman loved the sole of a Goose more than any part else, but his Cooke having a Wench that long'd for it, hee adventred to give it her: when the Goose was carved, and brought to the Table, the Gen­tleman mist the sole, and de­manded the Cooke for it; the Cooke made answer, Sir, this was no Goose, it was a Gander, and and he lost his sole with treading his Sister. This Goose deserves some sawce, but I can swimme no more than a Goose, therefore I'le wade no further: much good may it doe you Gen­tlemen.

13. A cup of Sacke.

NOw it is but folly to offer a little Sacke to my Readers, for it is not a little or small Sack that can hold them; yet for all that they may hold or contayne a little Sacke, (when they have it.) A roaring Gallant having dranke so much Sacke, that his head and belly were full, and empty of E­briety and Sobriety, and his purse and brayne discharg'd of Wit and Money, was inforced to cast up his Sacke with more haste than he receiv'd it, which being done, and his stomacke somewhat eas'd, hee threw the Pottle-pot downe the staires, say­ing, Drawers, you Rogues, bring more Sacke, for all this is gone.

14. A couple of fat Ducks roasted.

NEere the Citty of Gaunt in Flanders, in a small Village there was lately a Priest that prea­ched, or rayled most bitterly a­gainst the Protestants, calling them Reprobates, Cast-awayes, Hugonats, and Hereticks, good for nothing but to feed fire, flame, and faggots; for which constant way of invective talking the Priest was mightily followed by abundance of ignorant peo­ple, (the most part women) as the like troupes doe into many places haunt Schismaticall Sepe­ratists, that willingly would dis­locate the Conformity and Unity of the Church. Amongst the rest of this Priests Auditorie, there was one man and his wife that seldome failed to heare him; [Page 41] but it hapned that the Woman was to give her mayd-servant leave to goe to a Wedding at Gaunt, (where she had a kinswo­man to bee married) so that her Mistris was forc'd to stay at home that Sunday, and dresse Dinner for her Husband and family. The Sermon being done, the Good­man came home, and told his Wife that their Priest had made an extraordinary piece of worke, that the like was never spoken, and that hee thought all the Pro­testants were knock'd downe with his words, and that he was griev'd at the heart shee was not at Church to heare him.

At which report the woman was so full of griefe, (for her be­ing absent from so rare a matter) that shee could eate no meate to Dinner, but fed upon sorrow; her Husband began to comfort [Page 42] her, and told her, that if shee would bee merry, and eate her meate, hee would procure the Priest to come to their house on the Wednesday following, and there, (in their Parlour) he should repeate the same Sermon to them privately. The woman was well contented with the motion, and said, that shee would bestow a couple of as good Ducks roafted on him as ever hee eate in his life. (Now you must understand, that the Woman was hard and mise­rable, and did seldome use to feede her Husband, or any other with Ducks: and the Priest on the other side, did love a Ducke so well, that hee would run over the Parish after them.) Well, the Wednesday was come, the Priest came, the Ducks were on the Spit roasted, the Sermon was re­peated, and Dinner was expected: [Page 43] The Woman arising from her seate, made a low courtesie to the Priest, saying, Sir, I will goe in­to the Kitchin, and make haste with your meate, the while I will leave you with my Husband to discourse. in the Parlour: So the good wife went to her Maid, say­ing, In faith Wench our Priest hath made a good Declaration, but I would my Ducks were a­live againe, for it grieves me to remember how the pretty fooles would quacke, quacke, about the backsides; but troubles my mind more, to thinke how, like Wolves, the Priest and thy Ma­ster will devoure them. The Maid answer'd her Dame, that if she pleased, that we two here will eate up the Ducks in the Kitchin, the whilst the Priest and hee are prating in the Parlour. The wo­man reply'd, that she could finde [Page 44] in her heart to doe it, but shee could not answer the matter with credit. Then said the Maide, Dame, let us eate the Ducks, and I will lay my Quarters wages a­gainst them, that wee will come off with fame and credit.

The match was agreed upon, the Ducks were taken from the Spit, and betwixt them one was eaten, and the other dismem­ber'd, and spoil'd: What must be done now said the Dame? I pray you (quoth the Maid) to lay the cloath, with Bread, and Salt, and Trenchers; which she did, (her Husband bidding her make haste with Dinner) then shee came to her Maid againe, and asked what must further be done? Then said the Maid, you see our Knives are foule and blunt, I pray you whif­per our Master in the eare, and tell him you will turne the grind­stone [Page 45] whilst hee doth sharpen them: Then the woman did as her Maid bid her, and as her hus­band and shee were grinding in the back-side, the Maid went in­to the Parlour to the Priest, and told him that he was in great and suddaine danger, for her Master and Dame were much de­fam'd by reason of too much fa­miliarity which was suspected be­tweene her Dame and his good father-hood, and therefore they had sent for him, with a trick to abuse him, to make him relate a Sermon, (which they regard not:) and as for the Ducks which he expected, shee swore truely there was not a Ducke in the house: The maine plot was, that they did purpose to gueld him, and therefore were sharp­ning their Knives; which if hee pleas'd but to looke out at the [Page 46] Hall-window, he might plainely see. The Priest was all amazed at this newes, and looking, (as the Maid said) hee spied the man and his wise grinding and turning, at which sight he took his heeles, and ran away as if hee had beene two stone lighter than hee was. Then the Maid went to her Ma­ster, and said, that shee thought the Priest was mad, or the Devill was in him; for he came suddain­ly into the Kitchin, and was run away with both the Ducks. Whereat the hungry man was angry, and in haste (with one of the naked Knives in his hand) he ran after the Priest; so they both ran, the one for feare, and the other for hunger: the man calling to the Priest, bad him for shame not to carry them both a­way, but to let his wife have one of them: the Priest made answer [Page 47] (as he ran) that thy wife and thee are a couple of Rogues, and they should both bee hang'd before they had one of them, and that he would keepe them both whilst he had them. Thus the Sermon was said, the Priest was affraid, his hunger unstay'd, the Jest well laid, the Wages paid, Gramer­cy Maid.

15. A cup of small Beere.

MY Reader perhaps may bee thirsty or dry with relating this long Tale of the Ducks, therefore it cannot be amisse to give him a Bowle of small Beere for a cooler.

A Gentleman that dwelt tenne miles from London, sent his Foot­man in all haste to the Citty, to tell a Merchant welcome newes of a rich Unkle of his lately dead, [Page 48] that had left him somewhat to make him merry for his Death, with an out-side mourning in Blacke, and an in-side laughing with Sacke. The Foot-man ha­ving his Message, with a Letter, made as much speed as hee could, in hope of Reward for his good tidings, so that he seem'd by his pace to have wings on his heeles, and by the fogge or sweate hee was in, you would have suppos'd him to have beene bloated or stewed body and bones.

Being come to the Merchant, hee deliver'd the Letter, which after he had halfe read, the Con­tents contented him so, that hee call'd his Maid, commanding her to fill a Bowle of Beere, and give it to the Foot-man, (who stood dropping with sweate as if he had newly beene duck'd) but hee setting it to his mouth, swal­lowed [Page 49] it with extreame eager­nesse, and finding by the taste that it was a poore mortified Li­quor, having no vivacity left in it, but meerely cold, comfortlesse, and at the best, a poore decayed single-soal'd drinke, although it were dead, and a deceased rem­nant of humidious Aquacity, nay though it had not upou the death or departure from its Cinnicall or Diogenicall habitation given so much as a good rellish, a smacke, or a taste to the poore Foot-man, that ever any Malt had beene drown'd, drench'd, or imbrew'd into it, yet hee (as a man of a milde temper) amidst his heate, unwilling to speake ill of the dead, did plainely tell the Merchant thus: Sir, I doe thinke that your Beere hath ran as fast as I have ran, and faster. Why sayst thou so? (quoth the Merchant) [Page 50] because said the other, it sweates more then I do: it cannot be said the Marchant: the foote-man re­plied that if it did not sweate, he was much deceived, for hee was sure it was in a cold sweate, or all of a water.

16. Twelve Woodcockes in a Dish.

ABout sixe or seaven new mol­ded Gallants, (whose out­sides were silke and slashes, and their insides jeeres and flashes) were invited to a worthy Citti­zens House to dinner, where a­mongst a great deale of other good cheare, there was brought to the Board a Jury of Wood­cockes in one Dish, laid Head to Head in the center of the platter, as fantastick Travailers and their Wives doe lie feete to feet in the great Bed of Ware, sometimes by dozens. These Guests (beeing loath to conceale their small Tal­lents [Page 64] of wit) had an especiall Art to breake ten good jeasts of other mens, before they were able to make one good one of their own: they began to jybe at the Wood­cockes, and said they were a Jury Empanell'd; another sayd, it was hard to judge whether they were a petty, or a Grand-Jury: a third said, that he thought that those twelve were an Embleme of the twelve Companies. The Citi­zen (being a Gentleman of place and eminence) not thinking their eering worthy of his anger, would not set his gravity against their foppery; yet thus mildly he answered them. You are wel­come Gentlemen, and I do wish that my entertainment were bet­ter for you: I see there is one dish that distastes you, but it shall be taken away; for I do assure you, that I never had so many Wood­cockes [Page 65] at my Table at one time in all my life; but I thinke the fault is not in my Cater, for here are at least halfe a dozen more then he provided. So hee com­maunded one that waited on, to take away the roasted Wood­cockes from the rest.

17. A Loyne of Veale.

ALthough the bodies of men are all (or the greatest num­ber) of one forme or a like frame, all compacted and composed of the foure Elements and Humors: yet those Elementary Humours are so variously mixed in men, that it makes them different in their Appetites, Affections, Incli­nations, Constitutions and Acti­ons: For example, some wil gape and make water at the sight of a hot roasted pigge; some wil run [Page 66] from an Eele; some dce hate Cheese so, that they will not han­dle a knife that hath cut it: some will sweat at the sight of a messe of Musrard. Mr. Anthony Mun­day (sometimes a Writer to the City of London) would run from the Table at the sight of a fore­quarter of Lambe roasted: And a reverend grave Judge of this Kingdome, did abhorre a Ducke as it had bin a Divell. Another Gentleman did love Salt, but by no meanes could indure to see it about the sides of a dish, but would swound at the sight of it. A Schoole-master in this Citty cannot indure to smell Apples. A­mongst all these, I my selfe did know one Thomas Vincent that was a Book-keeper or prompter at the Globe play-house neere the Banck-end in Maid-lane: As also I did know Iohn Singer, who [Page 67] playd the Clownes part at the Fortune-play-house in Golding­Lane, these two men had such strange and different humours, that Vincent could not endure the sight or scent of a hot Loyne of Veale, and Singer did abhorre the smell of Aquavitae: But it hapned that both these were in­vited to Dinner by a Widdow, (that did not well know their dyets) and as they sate at the Boord, a hot Loyne of Veale was set before Vincent, who present­ly began to change colour, and looke pale, and in a trembling manner hee drop'd in a swowne under the Table; the Widdow (being in a great amazement) made haste for an Aquavitae bot­tle to revive him, which was no sooner opened, but the very scent sent Singer after Vincent in the like foolish traunce. But when [Page 68] the Veale and Aqua vitae were taken away, after a little time the men recover'd: Vincent went in­to another Roome, and dranke, and Singer call'd for the Veale, and din'd well with it.

18. A Custard.

A Prating fellow, that dwelt in a Citty that had in former times beene governe by Bay­liffes, and was newly made a Majoralty, did brag that their first Majors feast was most sumptuous, and in price and value beyond the Lord Majors of York or London, for besides other Dishes and provision, there was sent in by the Gentlemen of the Countrey, Fourteene brace of Bucks; I demanded of him at what time of the Yeere their Major was chosen? He answer'd [Page 69] me, that about the Twentieth of October hee tokee his Oath, and kept his Feast: I reply'd, that I thought hee was mistaken, for the Season for Buckes doth not hold or continue till the Moneth of October; then hee said, that if they were not Bucks, they were Does: To which I seemed to grant; but withall I told him, that if they had beene Bucks, all had beene too short of our London Feast; for wee were able on that day to drowne such a towne as theirs with sixteene Tunne of Custard.

19. A Sturgeon like an old Colt.

THere is a Market-town (which I will not name in Print) in the roade betwixt Lond­on and Yorke, which hath a [Page 70] pretty River or Brooke rnnnes by it, up which Brooke it did chance that a Sturgeon did swim or shoote, (somewhat neere the Towne) the which a Gentleman that dwelt neere, espied, and caused a small Rope to bee put through the gills of the Fish, and fastened it to a stumpe of a Wil­low, intending to take it as a wafte or stray, that fell into the limits of his owne Bounds or Royalty: but as hee was gone to make provision for the carriage of it, and to call his servants for that purpose, the newes of the Sturgeon was brought to the Towne, and the Recorder told the Major, that it was taken in their Liberty, and that they were better to spend or give an Hun­dred pound, than to lose or ha­zard the losse of so much ground as the Sturgeon was within their [Page 71] Liberty and Lordship: and ther­fore it were their best course to goe speedily and fetch it away in­to the Towne perforce.

This counsell was lik'd and ap­prov'd, and so with one consent, the Major with his Brethren, the Recorder, and Officers, with the whole Drove or Heard of the Townsmen, went out to bring in the Sturgeon. And as they went, Master Major said, that he had eaten part of such a Fish ma­ny times, but in all his life hee had never seene a whole Sturge­on, and therfore he did not know of what shape or proportion it was: to whom one of the Alder­men said, Sir, in my youth I did use to goe to Sea, and then I did now and then see one, and I can compare or liken him to nothing more than to an old ragged Colt; 'tis like enough to bee so (quoth [Page 72] the Major) and for any thing I know he may be like a Goose, a Cocke, or a Bull: Thus as they walk'd and talk'd many words to small purpose, they espy'd a fellow leading a young Colt with aslip from the Brooke thwart o­ver the field, which caused one of the Aldermen to say to the Major, Sir, yonder man (be like) hath had some warning of our comming, and you may see he is about to prevent us, for he is leading away the Sturgeon from us; with that the Major cal­led aloud, saying, Hallow, thou fellow, I charge and command thee, that thou bring hither our Sturgeon before me: The fellow (wondring) answer'd, what zay Zur? Marry I say Sir, I charge thee bring hither our Sturgeon; What doe you meane, my Colt said hee? Sirrah, sirrah, said the [Page 73] Major, doe not you offer to put your knavish Colts tricks upon me, for if you doe, I'le lay you by the Heeles: Do'st thou thinke that I am such an Asse that I doe not know a Colt from a Sturge­on? Yfaith quoth the fellow, you are a merry Gentleman, and with that hee led the Colt away. Then the Major commanded men to pursue him, and take a­way the Sturgeon: Well, the fel­low ran, the Townsmen ran, the Colt slip'd his Halter, and was encompast round, and hunting him into the Towne, was met by men, women, and children, as a rare and admirable sight, and had like to have beene kill'd, and cut out into Jolles and Rands, and made up into Keggs in pickle, but that a knowing understanding Shooe-maker most luckily pre­vented it.

[Page 74]In the meane time, the Gentle­man that first found the Sturge­on, caused it to be taken up out of the Brooke, and carried Home unto his House and there it was drest as was fitting. The Major perceiving his errour, let the man have his Colt againe, with a full determination that at the com­mon charge with the Towne­purse to trie an Action with the Gentleman for the Sturgeon.

20. A fresh Salmon.

THe good, old, and truely right Honourable Charles Earle of Nottingham, Lord High Admirall of England, whose re­nowned memory shall never bee forgotten untill his bounteous Houskeeping bee generally imi­tated. He being at his House at Chelsey, and looking upon cer­taine [Page 75] Fishermen that were fishing in the Thames with their Salmon­Net, his Lordship call'd to them, and said, My friends, if you take a Salmon, and bring him a shoare living, that I may see it move, and live, I will give you your price for it: The Fisherman an­swer'd, (My good Lord) I hope wee shall bee able to present your Honour with such a Fish as you desire; so they drew their Net to Land, and caught a very faire Salmon. (My Lord standing on the Land looking on them) To whom the Fisherman said, my Lord, I have him, and you shall have him straite: So the poore man tooke off his leather-girdle, which had fastned to it a little Pouch, with ten pence in money in it, and as he had put the girdle through the gill of the Salmon to hold it the faster, the Fish being [Page 76] a strong lively fish, gave a sud­daine flirt or spring out of the mans armes into the River againe with the girdle in the gill, and the Pouch with ten-pence; which Salmon did shoote up the River the same Tide, from Chelsey to Hammersmith, and there it was taken by another Fisherman, and the Girdle with the pouch with it, which was restor'd to the right owner, and the Fisherman contentedly rewarded for the same by the bounteous Noble­man afore-named.

21. Sixe six penny Mutton-pyes to make up the Feast.

MEthinks a Feast is not well set forth if there bee no Pies or bak'd meates, and instead of Deere, I pray Gentlemen take in good part such Venison as Smith­penns [Page 77] affoord. There was a Chyrurgian, or corruptly a Sur­geon, whose name was well knowne to me, and many more by Land, but especially and tru­ly by Walter, and by shortning it an L, by Water, or briefly, Wat; (the helpe of a Priest would declare the rest) This Walters sto­macke did water for a Six-penny Mutton-pye, at a Cookes named T. S. at Westminster, almost over against the 3. Tunnes Taverne, and having eaten one Pie, he lik'd the rellish so well, that hee call'd for five pies more of the same price, and valiantly consum'd them both crust and meate, out­sides and linings: Which being done, he heard Westminster clock strike, and demanding of one of the Cookes servants what time of day it was? who answer'd him, that the Clocke strooke E­leaven; [Page 78] Oh (quoth he) I pray you bring me a reckoning quick­ly, or else I shall lose my Dinner at my Lord Maynards.

22. A Pudding-pye.

AN old rich Tanner, with a beggerly minde, did use Hartfourd Market constantly e­very Weeke, for the time of 28. Yeeres, to buy and sell Hides; in all which space hee never chan­ged his Inne or Hosresse, nor al­tered his price for diet or expen­ces, either for his Horse or him­selfe; whose Horse-meate was to be tied up to an empty Racke, for which one pennie paid for his [Page 79] standing, and another penny the Tanner spent upon himselfe in a Pinte of Beere, and a halfe-penny loafe; so two pence in the Totall was his constant expences every Market-day for so long a time: till at last as hee passed alongst the Streete, he espied a Wench that sold hot Pudding-pies, and presently his chapps began to water, so that his quicke Eye and liquorish Tooth made him turne prodigall so farre as to waste a pennie upon himselfe for a Pudding-pie, which he put in his Handkerchiefe, and carried to his Inne, with a purpose to feast his carkasse. So being set a­lone in a Roome, hee call'd for a whole pot of Beere, which the Maide drew, and was carrying it to him: but meeting her Dame or Mistris by the way, shee as­ked her to whom that Beere was [Page 80] fill'd? for the old Tanner said the Maide, whereat the Mistris call'd her forgetfull Baggage, that had forgotten his usuall Diet, to bee but a pinte of Beere, and a Halfe-pennie loafe: The Maide reply'd, that hee had bought a Pudding-pie, and would make that serve instead of Bread, and therefore hee would spend a whole pennie in Drinke. So it was carried to the Tanner, who sate (repentingly) looking up­on his Pie; the whilst the Ho­stesse went into another roome, where there were some merry fel­lows drinking, to whom shee told how the Tanner had altered his custome and diet, and that hee was in such a Roome alone with his Pot and his Pudding­pie before him: whereat one of the fellows start up, and swore, the old miserable Hound should [Page 81] have small joy of it; so away went he to the Tanner, (who as yet had neither touch'd Pie or Pot) to whom hee said, by your leave Father, I am bold to looke in­to your Roome, for my selfe with some friends are basely us'd in this House, for they fill us such scurvy dead drinke, as a man would bee asham'd to wash his Boots with it: Now you be­ing an old Guest of the House, I would taste if your Beere bee better, and with that hee tooke up the Pot, and dranke all off, set it on the Boord againe, saying, I thought (old man) that you were in favour with mine Ho­stesse, and I perceive it now by the goodnesse of the Liquor: Oh but said the Tanner, you have drunk up all, then call for more said the other; but who shall pay (quoth the Tanner?) hee that's [Page 82] best able quoth the fellow; Thou art a sawcy fellow (said the Tan­ner) and little better than a Cheater, to come into my roome and drinke up my drinke thus basely, and therefore tell me thy Name: The fellow told him, his Name was Gurley; Gur­ley said the Tanner? there was a Rascall of thy Name that stole a Mare from me three yeere agoe, that I could have hang'd him for it if I would: With that the fel­low clap'd his hand on the boord, and said, Old man, that Gurley was my Cousin, and hee was the most despe­rate Fellow that England bred, and did care no more for stea­ling your Mare, than I doe at this time for eating your Pudding-pie, and with those words hee suddainly snach'd up the Old Tanners Pie, and [Page 83] greedily (knavishly) devoured it at two or three mouthfulls, leaving the miserable Tanner in a mad, hungry, and thirsty anger, without either Beere or Pudding-pie for his two-pence. So Gentlemen, much good may it doe you with your Pud­ding-pie: Now there remaines behind onely some light meate for the closure of the stomack, which I pray fall to, and wel­come; and that is a Foole, being made like a Custard, and when that is done, pray give eare to the Musick.

23. A Foole.

TO furnish a Feast compleat­ly, there must be Tarts, Cu­stards, Flawnes, Flap-jackes, and by al meanes a Foole or two: and at a Feast it so hapned, that a Counsellour at Law (or of Law) being at the table, amongst other dishes that stood before him, hee fell to feeding most heartily up­on a Foole, and lovingly likeing it so well, demaunded of the Mi­stresse of the House, what good name that most excellent dish of meate had: shee answered him, that the name of it was a Foole. The Lawyer replied, hat hee had often tasted the goodnesse of a [Page 85] Terme Foole, but for a Table Foole hee never smatch'd one that pleas'd his pallate better, and therefore hee desired her to let him have a note of the ingredi­ents that appertained to the ma­king of such a composition, that his Wife might put it in her booke of Cookery. To which request of his, the Gentle-wo­man condescended: so after Sup­per was ended, the Counsellors man drew his pen and inke, and as the Gentle-woman directed him, hee wrot. Item, so much clouted Creame, so much Sugar, so much Rose-water, so many Egges, such and such Spices, with other Simples that are pertinent to Foole-making, which I am not perfit in: But after hee had writ­ten all, he knew that his Mi­stresse would insert it into her Booke, and therefore he thought [Page 86] it fit to give it a title or directi­ons above it, to distinguish it from other receites, wherefore thus he intituled it: A receite to shew my Mistresse, how to make my Master a Foole.

24. Cheese.

ONe brag'd and boasted that when he was married, that he had at the least two hundred Cookes to dresse his Wedding Dinner: Another answered him that hee believed him not, be­cause he knew that he had not so much as a House to put his Head in, but lodged in a Garret, and therefore he could not have use or roome for so many Cookes: He replied, that as hee with his friends came from Church, they went to a drie Hedge, and set it on fire, (every man having a [Page 90] piece of Cheese in his pocket,) and dividing themselves, the one halfe halfe of them on one side of the Hedge, and the other halfe on the other, and so toast­ing their Cheese, being two hun­dred in number, they were all Cookes, and drest the Wed­ding dinner.

25. A Posset.

THe Kings-Head Taverne in Fleet-streete, at Chancery­lane end, hath a long time bin a contenting well-custom'd House, and if the Travailes of some of the Drawers up and downe the staires could be mea­sured, [Page 91] it may be reckoned a day­ly journey of Forty miles a day in a Terme-time.

About 30. Yeeres since there was a man that kept the said Ta­verne, whose Name was Gent, who was an honest fat man, (as most fat men be) who being in bed, about mid-night the Draw­ers and the Maids were up merry in the Kitchin, to have a little re­creation after their long dayes toyle: for which purpose the Maides had made a great and a good Posset, which exceeding hot, and well sack'd, sugar'd, and spic'd, was put into a broad­brim'd pewter Bason: Mr. Gent being suddainly taken with an occasion to rise, (for the keeping of his bed cleane) put on his slippers, and as he was comming downe the staires, his servants hearing him, were in doubt they [Page 92] were discovered by their Master, whom to prevent, they put out the light, and one of them took the Bason with the hot Posset, and (to hide it) laid it upon the seat in the House of office, Ma­ster Gent suspecting no harme, went thither in the darke, and set himselfe in the Posset, which hee found so scalding, that hee cried out Helpe, helpe, the devil's in the Privie: thus was the Ser­vants deceiv'd, the Good-man scar'd and scalded, and the Posset most unluckily spoyl'd and de­fil'd.

26. Musicke.

THree or foure Gentlemen be­ing merry with drinke and [Page 93] discourse in a Taverne, a Musi­tian proffer'd them Musicke, which was deny'd; within a little time after another ask'd the same question, Gentlemen, will you have any Muficke? The Gentle­men began to bee angry, saying, they were Musick to themselves, and of themselves, and bad the Fidler get him gone; but it was not long before the third Fidler opened their doore, and peep'd into the Roome, with the old note, Gentlemen, will you have any Musicke, a new Song, or a fine Lesson? The Gentlemen perceiving that no deniall would satisfie their intruding importu­nacy, said, do'st thou heare fel­low, how many are you? Wee are foure said the Musitian; Can you dance said the Gentlemen? Yes sir said the other; tha [...]'s well quoth the Gentlemen: so with­out [Page 94] any more bidding, the Musi­tians entred, and two of them plaid, and the other two danc'd foure or five Dances; in conclu­sion the Gentlemen call'd for a Reckoning, and paid it; but as they were going away, one of the Fidlers said, Gentlemen, I pray you to remember the Musick, you have given us nothing yet; to whom one of the Gentlemen an­swer'd, nor will we give you a­ny thing, for we never knew any Reason to the contrary, But al­wayes those that dance must pay the Musicke.

27. One hundred of Faggots.

GEntlemen, the aire is raw and cold, therefore 'tis not a­misse to have some Faggots, as [Page 95] well to warme you, as to dresse your meate; and first how the Faggots were gotten.

There dwelt a Water-man at Greenewitch, who for his meri­torious and notorious Vertues, had justly purchas'd the Nicke­name of Bawdy-boy, by which name hee was generally knowne, and called, and will thereby bee many yeeres to come, had in re­membrance. It happened that this Fellow (working with Oares) had a Gentleman at Lon­don in his Boate, whom hee carri­ed to Gravesend; it being in a Winter-night, and Eleaven of the Clocke at the time of their landing, the Moone shining in her full brightnesse, and so calme and still was the winde, that it would not move the smoake of a Chimney, or flame of a Candle. When Bawdy-boy had landed the [Page 96] Gentleman, and tooke his fare, (which was sixe shillings) hee told his fellow what hee had re­ceiv'd, and withall the Tide be­ing an houre flood, and no pas­sengers left, hee thought it best to swim up emptie-boated with the streame from Gravesend to Greenewich, rather than to stay there, and spend their money; and that hee doubted not, but to make some profitable purchase on the river before he gat home: In which resolve they put off their Boate, and after one houres Rowing, betweene Greene-hithe and Purfleete they overtooke an Hoy, or great Boate, loaden with as good Kentish faggots as Chri­stendome could yeeld: the Hoy­man driving and whistling up in the calme streame, and the light Moone-shine, to whom Bawdy­boy call'd, and ask'd him if hee [Page 97] would sell him one Hundred of Faggots? The Hoy-man an­swer'd, saying, they are not mine to sell, I am but hired to bring them to London for a Wood­monger that dwells there. My Friend (quoth Bawdy-boy) what though they are none of thine to sell, yet thou may'st let me have one Hundred of them, and make thy Master beleeve they were mis-told to thee; or else thou may'st mis-tell one Hundred in the delivery of them; 'tis twenty to one they will never bee mist a­mongst so many.

This gentle and grave counsell began to worke upon the tender conscience of the Faggot-man, insomuch that the bargaine was strooke, that for Five Shillings Bawdy-boy should have one Hun­dred of Faggots. In briefe, the Faggots were taken into the [Page 98] Wherrie, and the Faggot-seller expected Five shillings; to whom Bawdy-boy said, (Friend) I doe see a Faggot with a crooked stick in it, which sticke will be to me of more worth than three Fag­gots, for a use that I would put it to: I pray thee let me have it, and I wil give thee one of my faggots backe againe for it; the other re­ply'd, that he would doe him that kindnesse, though it were trou­blesome to him to remove a do­zen or twenty Faggots that lay a­bout it: So whilst the fellow was busie to get the crooked-sticke­faggot, Bawdy-boy thrust him­selfe off with his Boate and one Hundred of Faggots: At the last the Hoy-man came to the Hoyes side, and perceiving his Mer­chant to be gone, hee called to him, saying, Hoe friend, com [...] hither, here is the Faggot with [Page 99] the crooked sticke: To whom Bawdy-boy reply'd, saying, it is no matter, I have better bethought my selfe, I will make a shift without it: the other call'd a­gaine, and said, thou hast nor paid me for my Faggots, I know it well quoth the other, nor will I pay thee any thing; thou art a Theefe, and a notable Rogue, and I will pay thy Master, who is an honest Gentleman, and hee shall know what a Rogue you are, and so I leave you.

Courteous Reader, I would intreate you to read this pleasant discourse of One hundred of Fag­gots, before that of Great and small Oysters, for so it should be placed.

Thus Gentlemen, you have seene your Cheere, and you [Page 100] know you are welcome; I am perswaded that you could not have had so good diet (as is be­fore related) at any six-penny Or­dinary, though it were in the North, where Victuals are chea­pest: Heere hath beene variety without Ebriety, I promis'd you at first, that I would not take your stomacks from you, and that you should goe away as so­ber as you came, wherein I hope I have kept my word, and so you are welcome Gentlemen: Onely here is a Bill of Fare to satisfie your mindes, or to bee a Presi­dent fo you, when you have oc­casion to make a Feast, and how to provide for every mans Palate.