The Beggars Wedding: Or The Jovial Crew.
Printed with Allowance, Octob. 19. 1676.
WHilome there Liv'd an aged Beggar old,
That in his Life full fourscore years had told;
His head all frozen, beard long, white as Snow,
With a Staffs prop, on nought else might he go;
With bleared Ey'n, all parched, dry and cold,
Shaking with Palsie, little could he hold;
His cloaths so tatter'd, for they were so worn,
Older than he, in many pieces Torn:
The prying'st Eye, and subtil'st brain, though seen,
Could never guess what stuff they e're had been:
On's Cloak more several patches there did stick,
Then labouring
Algebra's Arithmerick
Could once tell how to number; and was fuller,
Then is the Rain-bow of each various colour,
But not so fresh; so faded they were seen,
None could guess which was Blue, or Red, or Green.
His Turf house lean'd on an old stump of Oak,
A hole a Top, there to avoid the Smoak
Of sticks and scatter'd bones. He still was fed
By daily begging of his daily bread.
There on a little Bench I'le leave him then,
Within a while I'le speak of him agen.
A wither'd Begger-woman, little sundred
From him, whom all the Town said was a hundred:
Toothless she was, nay, had worn out her gums,
And all her Fingers now were worn to Thumbs:
Rinckles like Graves, to bury all delight,
Eyes once, now holes, little she had of sight;
Little could speak, as little could she smell,
She seldom heard, sometimes the great Town bell.
A long forgetfulness her leggs had seiz'd,
For many years her Crutches them had eas'd;
Cloaths, thousand Raggs, torn with the wind and weather,
Her houswifry long since had tackt together.
No livelihood, but Charity grown cold
As she was, more by cares than years made old.
In a hot Summers day they out did creep,
Enliven'd just like Flies, for else they sleep.
Creeping along at last, each other met,
And lousing near each other, closely get.
Apollo's Masterpiece shining, did aim
To light dead Ashes, sparks to make a flame,
Musters up Nature, in them now so cold,
Tries whether
Cupid dwells with those are Old.
His heat and kindness made him try to kiss her,
Her Palsied head so shook, he still did miss her.
He thought it modesty, she 'gainst her will
(Striving to please him) could not hold it still.
She mumbled, but he could not understand her,
And cry'd, Sweet
Hero I'le be thy
Leander,
And said,
Before we met, as cold as Stone is
I was, But now am Venus,
thou Adonis.
Such heights of passionate Love utter'd these two,
As youngest Lovers when they 'gin to Woe.
For
Cupid power o're Mankind still will have,
He governs from the Cradle to the Grave:
There Love is such, they can no longer tarry,
They Vow a Contract, and Resolve to Marry.
This Marriage was divulged every where
Among the beggars, beggars far and near;
The day appointed, and the Marriage set,
The lame, the blind, the deaf, they all were met,
Such throngs of beggars, Women, Children, seen
Muster'd upon the Towns fair Grassie Green.
The Bridegroom led between two Lame men so,
Because our Bridegroom single could not go:
The Bride was led by blind Men, him behind,
Because you know that Love was always blind.
The
Hedg-Priest then was call'd, Fame did him bring,
Married they were with an old Curtain Ring;
No Father there was found, nor could be ever,
She was so old, no man was fit to give her;
With Acclamations now of louder joy,
They pray
Priapus to send 'um a Boy,
And shew a Miracle. In vows most deep,
The Parish swore their Children all to keep.
Then
Tom a Bedlam winds his
Horn at best,
Their Trumpet 'twas to bring away their Feast;
Pickt Marybones they had, found in the Street,
Carrots kickt out of Kennels with their Feet;
Crusts gathered up for bisket, twice so dry'd,
Alms-Tubs and
Olla Podrida's, beside
Many such Dishes more; but it would cumber
Any to Name them, more then I can number.
Then comes the Banquet, which must never fail,
That the Town gave, of whitebread and strong Ale.
All were so Tipsie, that they could not go,
And yet would Dance, and cry'd for
Musick Hoe:
With Tonges snd Gridirons they were play'd unto,
And blind Men Sung, as they are us'd to do.
Some whistled, and some hollow sticks did sound,
And so melodiously they play around:
Lame men, lame women, manfully cry Advance,
And so all limping, Jovially did Dance;
Nay, and the Deaf-men too, could not forbear
At what they saw, although they did not hear,
VVhich was their happiness. Then to the house
The bridegroom brought the bride, all drink a bowse.
No Room for any but them two they saw,
So laid them both to bed, on freshest Straw,
Then took their leaves, put out the Rushen light,
But they themselves did Revel all the Night.
The bridegroom russels now, kist, and said
friend,
But when he kist, he thought 'twas t'other end,
And cry'd her Mercy, said,
he could not look,
It was so dark he thought he bad mistook.
No, said the Bride most sweetly,
You are right,
As if your Taper now was burning bright.
He now at Loves
Hesperides does aim,
That
Place, O Place, which
Place no Tongue should name.
She gentle Dame, did strive to help his need,
But there was nothing but a broken Reed.
Their brains being soakt in Ale, having drank deep,
Our Lovers Arm in Arm fell fast asleep.
Thus for the
Will, though nothing for the deed,
To
Love these
Beggars built a
Pyramide.
LONDON, Printed for R. C. Anno Dom. 1676.