Merrie England in the Olden Time. George Daniel
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Название: Merrie England in the Olden Time
Автор: George Daniel
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Документальная литература
isbn: 4064066389666
isbn:
We are not a penny cost;
Nor are we called into town
To be troubled with a gown;
Nor will any go to law
With a beggar for a straw.
All which happiness he brags
He doth owe unto his rags!”
Of all the mad rascals that belong to this fraternity, the
Abraham-Man is the most fantastic. He calls himself by the name of Poor Tom, and, coming near to any one, cries out “Poor Tom's a-cold!” Some are exceedingly merry, and do nothing but sing songs, fashioned out of their own brains; some will dance; others will do nothing but laugh or weep; others are dogged, and so sullen, both in look and speech, that, spying but small company in a house, they boldly enter, compelling the servants, through fear, to give them what they demand, which is commonly something that will yield ready money. The “Upright Man” (who in ancient times was, next to the king and those “o' th' blood,” in dignity,) is not a more terrible enemy to the farmer's poultry than Poor Tom. How finely has Shakspeare spiritualized this strange character in the part of Edgar in King Lear! The middle aisle of old St. Paul's was a great resort for beggars. “In Paul's Church, by a pillar, Sometimes ye have me stand, sir, With a writ that shews What care and woes I pass by sea and land, sir. With a seeming bursten belly, I look like one half dead, sir, Or else I beg With a wooden leg, And with a night-cap on my head, sir.” Blind Beggars Song. Wit and Drollery. Jovial Poems. 1682.
Mendicity is a monarchy; it is governed by peculiar laws, and has a language of its own. Reform has waged war to the knife with it. The soap-eater, whose ingenious calling was practised in the streets of London as far back as Henry the Eighth and Edward the Sixth, is admonished to apply the raw material of his trade to an exterior use; * and the tatterdemalions of the Beggar's Opera no longer enjoy the privileges that belonged to their ancestors three centuries ago, when the Barbican, Turnmill Street, and Houndsditch, rang with their nocturnal orgies; and where not unfrequently “an alderman hung in chains” gratified their delicate appetites; as in more recent times,
* Like the Dutchman, who being desired to rub his rheumatic
limb with brandy, improved upon the prescription. “I dosh
better as dat,” roared Mynheer, “I drinks de prandy, and den
I rubs mine leg wit de pottle!”
the happy but bygone days of Dusty Bob and Billy Waters. * The well- known mendicants of St. Paul's churchyard, Waithman's crossing, and Par- liament-Street have, by a sweeping act of the
* The Sons of Carew Made a mighty ado—
The news was a terrible damper;
The blind, in their fright,
Soon recovered their sight,
And the lame thought it prudent to scamper.
They summon'd the nobs of their nation,
St. Giles's was all consternation;
The street they call Dyott
Portended a riot,
Belligerents all botheration!
Mendicity Bill,
Who for prowess and skill
Was dubb'd the bold Ajax of Drury,
With a whistle and stride
Flung his fiddle aside,
And his sky-scraper cock'd in a fury!
“While a drop's to be had to get queer-a,
I'll ne'er go a-begging for beer-a:
Our ducks and green peas
Shall the constable seize—
Our sherry, our port, and Madeira?”
But Law the bold heroes did floor, O!
On dainty fine morsels no more,
O! They merrily sup:
Dusty Bob's doubled up—
Poor Bill's occupation is o'er, O!
legislature, been compelled to brush; their brooms are laid up in ordinary, to make rods for their backs, till the very stones they once swept are ready to rise and mutiny. Well might Epicurus say, 6 Poverty, when cheerful, ceases to be poverty.'”
“Suppose, gentlemen, as the day is closing in, we each of us take our wallet and staff, trudge forth, and levy contribution! I am in a valiant humour to cry 'stand!' to a too powerfully refreshed citizen of light weight and heavy purse.” And Mr. Bosky suited the action to the word.
“Sit down, soul of a grasshopper! The very ghost of his wife's tweezers would snuff out thy small courage. Thou hast slandered the beggars' craft, and, like greater rogues, shalt be condemned to live by thine own! Thou 'gibier de potence!' Thou a prigger! Why thou art only a simple prig, turned out by thy tailor! Steal if thou canst into our good graces; redeem thy turpitude by emulating at least one part of the beggars' calling, ballad-singing. Manifest thy deep contrition by a song.”
“A bargain, Uncle Timothy. If thou wilt rake from a sly corner of that old curiosity shop, thy brain, some pageant of the ancient brethren of Bull-Feathers-Hall. What place more fitting for such pleasant chronicle, than the Horns at Highgate?”
This proposal being assented to by the middle-aged gentleman, Mr. Bosky “rosined,” (swallowed a bumper) and sounded a musical flourish as a preludio.
“But gentlemen, you have not said what I shall sing.”
“Beggars, Mr. Bosky, must not be choosers!”
“Something heroic?
Wonderful General Wolfe,
Uncommon brave; partic'lar!
Swam over the Persian Gulf,
And climb'd rocks perpendic'lar!
Sentimental and tender?
'The mealy potato it grows
In your garden, Miss Maddison cries;
'So I cannot walk there, for I knows,
Like love—that potatoes have eyes!'”
“No buffoonery, if you please, Benjamin Bosky,” cried Uncle Tim.
“Or furiously funny—eh?”
My pipe at your peeper I'll light,
So pop out your jazey so curly;
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