A Craver my Father,'

A Maunder my Mother,

A Filer my Sister, a Filcher my Brother,
A Cauter my Unckle

That car'd not for Pelfe;

a Lifter my Aunt, a Begger my selfe;

[read Canter]

in white wheaten-straw, when their bellies were full, Then I was begot, between Tinker & Trul:

And therefore a Begger, a Begger I'le be,
For none hath a spirit so jocond as he.

When Boyes do come to us,

And that their intent is

to follow our Calling, we nere bind them Prentice : Soon as they come too't,

We teach them to doo't,

and give them a staff, & a Wallet to boo't,

We teach them their Lingua, to crave and to Cant,2

The devil is in them, if then they can want.

If any are here, that Beggers will bee,

We without Indentures will make them free.

15

20

25

30

Evidently the singer is a Clapperdogeon (i.e. beggar born and bred). His family is variously distinguished.

Craver: a fluent pertinacious beggar, telling a pitiful tale at house-doors.
Maunder: also a beggar, generally plying on highways.

Filer: this term has reference to a pocket-picker. File-cly or Bungnipper is a pick-pocket. A Bulk accompanied the File, ready to jostle the person whom the File was robbing.

Filcher (fylche was to rob, of course): technically, a Filch was a staff that had a hook and a spike at opposite ends, used to pluck clothes off hedges and snatch at articles inside houses through an open window.

Canter: a palaverer in the rogues' lingua; probably here it means especially a chaunter of street ditties, hanging-verses of criminals (such as Bagford Coll., i. 47; ii. 73, 74, 163 verso, &c.), to the tune of Fortune my Foe," or "Essex's Farewell." But Canters, or the Canting Crew, were, generally, thieves, beggars, and gipsies, who used the canting slang.

Lifter: a thief who, on pretence of being a purchaser, enters shops or booths and inspects goods on the counter, taking the opportunity of secreting some and stealing them. We still keep the term in use, as, e.g. a shop-lifter. The pal who was ready to receive the swag at once, in case of pursuit and search, was called a Bob.

2.e. Teach them the Canting patois, so that they may professionally beg "with a moving tale," and be able to "patter flash": the thieves' talk unintelligible to the yokels or sweet culls.

We begg for our bread,

But sometimes it happens,

we feast it with Pigg, Pullet, Conny and Capons, For Churches Affairs

We are no Men-slayers;

we have no Religion, yet live by our Prayers.

But if when we begg, Men will not draw their Purses,
We charge & give fire, with a vally of curses:

The Devil confound your good worship, we cry,
And such a bold brazen-fac'd Begger am I.

35

[i.e. volley.]

40

we raise no Rebellion, nor never talk Treason.

We Billet our mates

At very low Rates,

45

whilst some keepe their Quarters as high as the Gates. With Shinkin ap Morgan, with Blew-cap or Tege, [Teague.] We enter into no Covenant, nor League:

And therefore a bonney bold Begger I'le be;

For none lives a life so happy as he.

We never do prate,

In matters of State,

For fear we should come to Hugh Peters his Fate;
Whilst Scripture unfolders,

And Treason upholders,

Have lost their heads, we keep ours on our shoulders.

Our Plots & our Projects, are never so tall

To reach to the Top-mast of Westminster-hall,
And therefore a merry brave Begger I'le be,
For none wears his Nodle so safely as he.

BAGFORD.

59

50

P

For such petty Pledges,

As shirts from the Hedges,

we are not in fear to be drawn upon Sledges; But sometimes the Whip,

Doth make us to skip,

65

And then we from Tything to Tything do trip,

For when in a poor bousing-ken we do bib it,

We stand more in awe of the Stocks then the Gibbet:

And therefore a merry mad Begger I'le be,
For when it is night, to the Barn goes he.

70

We throw down no Alter,

Nor ever do falter

So much as to change a Gold-Chain, for a Halter :
Though some men do flout us;

And others do doubt us,

we nere go without forty peices about us;

But

many brave fellows are fine and look fiercer

That owe for their Cloaths to the Taylor and Mercer:
And if from the Stocks I can keep out my feet,
I fear not the Compter, Kings-bench nor the Fleet.

Sometimes I do frame,

80

My self to be lame;

and when a coach comes, I do hop to my game:

We seldome miscarry,

Yet never do Marry,

85

By the Gowns Common Prayer, nor the Cloak-Directory,

But Harry & Mary (like birds of a feather)

do nothing but kiss, laugh, & lye down together: Like Piggs in the pease-straw, intangld they lie, Till there they beget such a bold Rogue as I.

90

To summe all in brief,

We live by relief,

And pray for King Charles, our Commander in chief:

God bless all the Peers,

The wise Over-seers,

that they may consider the poore Cavaliers,

75

For if they let them but lower to fall,
The[y]'l take our profession & begger us all :
And then it will be but a folly for me,

A merry soul'd, bonny bold Begger to be.

London, Printed for W. Thackeray, T. Passenger, and W. Whitwood.

100

[In Black-letter. Date of appearing in print, certainly before 1672: probably written between Oct. 1660 and the end of 1663.]

FOR

Answer to the Cook-Maid's Tragedy.

OR the present, it remains doubtful, whether the so-called "Cook-Maid's Tragedy," and our Bagford "Chamberlain's Tragedy; or, The Cook-Maid's Cruelty," were one and the same production. If the same, they probably would have gone to the same tune.

Despite the announcement of the following being the Answer to a ballad of "The Cook-Maid's Tragedy," we can scarcely overcome our suspicion that the two stories are disconnected. The absence of all reference to the Cookmaid's cruel murder of the Chamberlain seems to indicate a different sort of "Mary" altogether.

We have already given the earlier part of this lugubrious ballad (if it be the earlier part) on pp. 174 (Bagford Coll., ii. 52 verso). The copy of this "Answer," as well as of the "Tragedy," has been mutilated by the collector, or his book-binder, who "dressed the edges" and "trimmed" the ballads after the fashion employed by Demetrius and Chiron, against Lavinia, in Titus Andronicus. Another copy is found in the Pepys Collection, v. 318. It goes to the same tune, "If Love's a sweet Passion;" already recorded on our p. 179, ante.

[Bagford Coll. II. 59, verso; and II. 97, verso.]

An Answer to the

Cook-Maid's Tragedy;

Dr, The

Lamentation of Thomas the Coach-man, for Marp the Cook-Maid, in Covent Garden; who Popson'd herself in Dispair for his Sake.

TO THE TUNE OF, If Love's a sweet Passion, &c.

Assist, all you Muses, to make my sad moan,

Who am left in a otion of sorrows alone,

When alas! I am shipwreck'd on Rocks of dispair,
For my passion I now am not able to bear:

[Line pared away.]

[Not] an hour or minute [of joy] I have,
When I think how dear Mary was sent to the Grave.

I see mine own folly, now, now 'tis too late,
And lament for dear Mary's sad desperate state,
Who was wounded, I know, by the Arrows of Love,
When she took that strong Poyson her grief to remove:
In my conscience no comfort or quiet I have,

When I think how dear Mary was sent to the Grave.

Her fancy young Cupid was pleas'd to confine,
That her heart could not wander, 'twas constantly mine;
Yet I needs must acknowledge I slighted her so,
That it proved her ruin and sad overthrow:
In my conscience no comfort or quiet I have,

6

12

When I think how dear Mary was sent to the Grave.

Whatever between us in private had past,
Was unknown to the World, therefore clearly at last,
I endeavour to smother and stoutly deny;

Was there ever Young-man so ungrateful as I?
In my conscience no comfort or quiet I have,

18

When I think how dear Mary was sent to the Grave.

24

I did my endeavour the same to conceal,
But I now sad passionate torment do feel,