THE COFFEE HOUSE OR NEWS-MONGERS HALL.
A POEM.
In which is shewn their several sorts of Passions,
Containing News from all our Neighbour
Nations.
YOu that delight in Wit and Mirth,
And long to hear such News,
As comes from all Parts of the
Earth,
Dutch, Danes, and
Turks, and
Jews,
I'le send yee to a Rendezvous,
Where it is smoaking new;
Go hear it at a
Coffe-house,
It cannot but be true.
There Battles and Sea-Fights are Fought,
And bloody Plots display'd;
They know more Things then ere was thought,
Or ever was betray'd:
No Money in the Minting-house
Is half so Bright and New;
And coming from a
Coffe-house,
It cannot but be true.
Before the
Navyes fall to Work.
They know who shall be Winner,
They there can tell ye what the
Turk
Last Sunday had to Dinner;
Who last did Cut
de Ruyters Corns,
Amongst his jovial Crew;
Or who first gave the
Devil Horns,
This sounds as if' twere true.
A
Fisherman did boldly tell,
And strongly did avouch,
He Caught a Shoal of Mackarel,
That Parley'd all in
Dutch,
And cry'd out
Yaw, Yaw, Yaw myn Heer;
But as the Draught they drew,
They stunk for fear, our Fleet being near,
Which cannot but be true.
There's nothing done in all the World,
From
Monarch to the
Mouse,
But every Day or Night 'tis hurld
Into the
Coffe-house.
What
Lillie or what
Booker can
By Art, not bring about,
At
Coffe-house you'l find a Man,
Can quickly find it out.
They'l tell ye there, what Lady-ware,
Of late is grown too light;
What Wise-man shall from Favour fall,
What Fool shall be a Knight;
They'l tell ye when our fayling Trade,
Shall rise again, and Florish,
And when
Jack Adams first was made
Church-Warden of the Parish.
They know who shall in Times to come,
Be either made, or undone,
From great St.
Peters-street in
Rome,
To
Turnbul-street in
London;
And likewise tell, at
Clerkenwell,
What
Whore hath greatest Gain;
And in that place, what Brazen-face
Doth wear a Golden Chain.
At Sea their Knowledge is so much,
They know all Rocks and Shelves,
They know all Councils of the
Dutch,
More then they know themselves;
Who 'tis shall get the best at last,
They perfectly can shew
At
Coffe-house, when they are plac'd,
You'd scarce believe it true.
They know all that is Good, or Hurt,
To Dam ye, or to Save ye;
There is the
Colledge, and the
Court,
The
Countrey, Camp, and
Navie;
So great a
Ʋniversitie.
I think there ne're was any;
In which you may a Schoolar be
For spending of a Penny.
A
Merchants Prentice there shall show
You all and every thing,
What hath been done, and is to do,
'Twixt
Holland and the
King;
What
Articles of
Peace will bee,
He can precizely show;
What will be good for
Them or
Wee,
He perfectly doth know.
Here Men do talk of every Thing,
With large and liberal Lungs,
Like Women at a Gossiping,
With double tyre of Tongues;
They'l give a Broad-side presently,
Soon as you are in view,
With Stories that, you'l wonder at,
Which they will swear are true.
The Drinking there of
Chochalat,
Can make a
Fool a
Sophie:
'Tis thought the
Turkish Mahomet
Was first Inspir'd with
Coffe,
By which his Powers did Over-flow
The Land of
Palestine:
Then let us to, the
Coffe-house go,
'Tis Cheaper far then Wine.
You shall know there, what Fashions are;
How Perrywiggs are Curl'd;
And for a Penny you shall heare,
All Novels in the World,
Both Old and Young, and Great and Small,
And Rich, and Poor, you'l see:
Therefore let's to the
Coffe All,
Come All away with Mee.