The Pennyles Pilgrimage Part 1

The Pennyles Pilgrimage.

by John Taylor.

TO ALL MY LOVING ADVENTURERS, BY WHAT NAME OR t.i.tLE SOEVER, MY GENERAL SALUTATION.

_Reader, these Travels of mine into_ Scotland, _were not undertaken, neither in imitation, or emulation of any man, but only devised by myself, on purpose to make trial of my friends both in this Kingdom of_ England, _and that of_ Scotland, _and because I would be an eye-witness of divers things which I had heard of that Country; and whereas many shallow-brained Critics, do lay an aspersion on me, that I was set on by others, or that I did undergo this project, either in malice, or mockage of Master_ Benjamin Jonson, _I vow by the faith of a Christian, that their imaginations are all wide, for he is a gentleman, to whom I am so much obliged for many undeserved courtesies that I have received from him, and from others by his favour, that I durst never to be so impudent or ungrateful, as either to suffer any man's persuasions, or mine own instigation, to incite me, to make so bad a requital, for so much goodness formerly received; so much for that, and now Reader, if you expect_

That I should write of cities' situations, Or that of countries I should make relations: Of brooks, crooks, nooks; of rivers, bournes and rills, Of mountains, fountains, castles, towers and hills, Of s.h.i.+res, and piers, and memorable things, Of lives and deaths of great commanding kings, I touch not those, they not belong to me; But if such things as these you long to see, Lay down my book, and but vouchsafe to read The learned _Camden_, or laborious _Speed_.

_And so G.o.d speed you and me, whilst I rest

Yours in all thankfulness:_

JOHN TAYLOR.

[Decorative thought break]

TAYLOR'S PENNILESS PILGRIMAGE.

List Lordlings, list (if you have l.u.s.t to list) I write not here a tale of had I wist: But you shall hear of travels, and relations, Descriptions of strange (yet English) fas.h.i.+ons.

And he that not believes what here is writ, Let him (as I have done) make proof of it.

The year of grace, accounted (as I ween) One thousand twice three hundred and eighteen, And to relate all things in order duly, 'Twas Tuesday last, the fourteenth day of July, Saint _Revels_ day, the almanack will tell ye The sign in _Virgo_ was, or near the belly: The moon full three days old, the wind full south; At these times I began this trick of youth.

I speak not of the tide, for understand, My legs I made my oars, and rowed by land, Though in the morning I began to go Good fellows trooping, flocked me so, That make what haste I could, the sun was set, E're from the gates of _London_ I could get.

At last I took my latest leave thus late, At the Bell Inn, that's _extra Aldersgate_.

There stood a horse that my provant[1] should carry, From that place to the end of my fegary,[2]

My horse no horse, or mare, but gelded nag, That with good understanding bore my bag: And of good carriage he himself did show, These things are excellent in a beast you know.

There in my knapsack, (to pay hunger's fees) I had good bacon, biscuit, neat's-tongue, cheese With roses, barberries, of each conserves, And mithridate, that vigorous health perserves: And I entreat you take these words for no-lies, I had good _Aqua vitae, Rosa_ so-lies: With sweet _Ambrosia_, (the G.o.ds' own drink) Most excellent gear for mortals, as I think, Besides, I had both vinegar and oil, That could a daring saucy stomach foil.

This foresaid Tuesday night 'twixt eight and nine, Well rigged and ballasted, both with beer and wine, I stumbling forward, thus my jaunt begun, And went that night as far as _Islington_.

There did I find (I dare affirm it bold) A Maidenhead of twenty-five years old, But surely it was painted, like a wh.o.r.e, And for a sign, or wonder, hanged at door, Which shows a Maidenhead, that's kept so long, May be hanged up, and yet sustain no wrong.

There did my loving friendly host begin To entertain me freely to his inn: And there my friends, and good a.s.sociates, Each one to mirth himself accommodates.

_At Well-head_ both for welcome, and for cheer, Having a good _New ton_, of good stale beer: There did we _Trundle_[3] down health, after health, (Which oftentimes impairs both health and wealth.) Till everyone had filled his mortal trunk, And only _No-body_[3] was three parts drunk.

The morrow next, Wednesday Saint _Swithin's_ day, From ancient _Islington_ I took my way.

At _Holywell_ I was enforced carouse, Ale high, and mighty, at the Blindman's House.

But there's a help to make amends for all, That though the ale be great, the pots be small.

At _Highgate_ Hill to a strange house I went, And saw the people were to eating bent, In either borrowed, craved, asked, begged, or bought, But most laborious with my teeth I wrought.

I did not this, 'cause meat or drink was scant, But I did practise thus before my want; Like to a Tilter that would win the prize, Before the day he'll often exercise.

So I began to put in use, at first These principles 'gainst hunger, 'gainst thirst.

Close to the Gate,[4] there dwelt a worthy man, That well could take his whiff, and quaff his can, Right Robin Good-fellow, but humours evil, Do call him _Robin Pluto_, or the devil.

But finding him a devil, freely hearted, With friendly farewells I took leave and parted, And as alongst I did my journey take, I drank at _Broom's well_, for pure fas.h.i.+on's sake, Two miles I travelled then without a bait, The Saracen's Head at _Whetstone_ entering straight, I found an host, that might lead an host of men, Exceeding fat, yet named _Lean_, and _Fen_.[5]

And though we make small reckoning of him here, He's known to be a very great man there.

There I took leave of all my company, Bade all farewell, yet spake to _No-body_.

Good reader think not strange, what I compile, For _No-body_ was with me all this while.

And _No-body_ did drink, and, wink, and scink, And on occasion freely spent his c.h.i.n.k.

If anyone desire to know the man, Walk, stumble, _Trundle_, but in _Barbican_.

There's as good beer and ale as ever tw.a.n.g'd, And in that street kind _No-body_[6] is hanged.

But leaving him unto his matchless fame, I to St. _Albans_ in the evening came, Where Master _Taylor_, at the Saracen's Head, Unasked (unpaid for) me both lodged and fed.

The tapsters, hostlers, chamberlains, and all, Saved me a labour, that I need not call, The jugs were filled and filled, the cups went round, And in a word great kindness there I found, For which both to my cousin, and his men, I'll still be thankful in word, deed, and pen.

Till Thursday morning there I made my stay, And then I went plain _Dunstable_ highway.

My very heart with drought methought did shrink, I went twelve miles, and no one bade me drink.

Which made me call to mind, that instant time, That drunkenness was a most sinful crime.

When _Puddle-hill_ I footed down, and past A mile from thence, I found a hedge at last.

There stroke we sail, our bacon, cheese, and bread, We drew like fiddlers, and like farmers fed.

And whilst two hours we there did take our ease, My nag made s.h.i.+ft to mump green pulse[7] and peas.

Thus we our hungry stomachs did supply, And drank the water of a brook hard by.

Away toward _Hockley_ in the Hole, we make, When straight a horseman did me overtake, Who knew me, and would fain have given me coin, I said, my bonds did me from coin enjoin, I thanked and prayed him to put up his c.h.i.n.k, And willingly I wished it drowned in drink.

Away rode he, but like an honest man, I found at _Hockley_ standing at the Swan, A formal tapster, with a jug and gla.s.s, Who did arrest me: I most willing was To try the action, and straight put in bail, My fees were paid before, with sixpence ale, To quit this kindness, I most willing am, The man that paid for all, his name is _Dam_, At the Green Dragon, against _Grays-Inn_ gate, He lives in good repute, and honest state.

I forward went in this my roving race, To _Stony Stratford_ I toward night did pace, My mind was fixed through the town to pa.s.s, To find some lodging in the hay or gra.s.s, But at the _Queen's Arms_, from the window there, A comfortable voice I chanced to hear, Call _Taylor, Taylor_, and be hanged come hither, I looked for small entreaty and went thither, There were some friends, which I was glad to see, Who knew my journey; lodged, and boarded me.

On Friday morn, as I would take my way, My friendly host entreated me to stay, Because it rained, he told me I should have Meat, drink, and horse-meat and not pay or crave.

I thanked him, and for his love remain his debtor, But if I live, I will requite him better.

(From _Stony Stratford_) the way hard with stones, Did founder me, and vex me to the bones.

In bl.u.s.tering weather, both for wind and rain, Through _Towcester_ I trotted with much pain, Two miles from thence, we sat us down and dined, Well bulwarked by a hedge, from rain and wind.

We having fed, away incontinent, With weary pace toward _Daventry_ we went.

Four miles short of it, one o'ertook me there, And told me he would leave a jug of beer, At _Daventry_ at the Horse-shoe for my use.

I thought it no good manners to refuse, But thanked him, for his kind unasked gift, Whilst I was lame as scarce a leg could lift, Came limping after to that stony town, Whose hard streets made me almost halt right down.

There had my friend performed the words he said, And at the door a jug of liquor staid, The folks were all informed, before I came, How, and wherefore my journey I did frame, Which caused mine hostess from her door come out, (Having a great wart rampant on her snout.) The tapsters, hostlers, one another call, The chamberlains with admiration all, Were filled with wonder, more than wonderful, As if some monster sent from the _Mogul_, Some elephant from _Africa_, I had been, Or some strange beast from the _Amazonian_ Queen.

As buzzards, widgeons, woodc.o.c.ks, and such fowl, Do gaze and wonder at the broad-faced owl, So did these brainless a.s.ses, all amazed, With admirable _Nonsense_ talked and gazed, They knew my state (although not told by me) That I could scarcely go, they all could see, They drank of my beer, that to me was given, But gave me not a drop to make all even, And that which in my mind was most amiss, My hostess she stood by and saw all this, Had she but said, come near the house my friend, For this day here shall be your journey's end.

Then had she done the thing which [she] did not, And I in kinder words had paid the shot.

I do entreat my friends, (as I have some) If they to _Daventry_ do chance to come, That they will baulk that inn; or if by chance, Or accident into that house they glance, Kind gentlemen, as they by you reap profit, My hostess care of me, pray tell her of it,[8]

Yet do not neither; lodge there when you will, You for your money shall be welcome still.

From thence that night, although my bones were sore, I made a s.h.i.+ft to hobble seven miles more: The way to _Dunchurch_, foul with dirt and mire, Able, I think, both man and horse to tire.

On _Dunsmoor_ Heath, a hedge doth there enclose Grounds, on the right hand, there I did repose.

Wit's whetstone, Want, there made us quickly learn, With knives to cut down rushes, and green fern, Of which we made a field-bed in the field, Which sleep, and rest, and much content did yield.

There with my mother earth, I thought it fit To lodge, and yet no incest did commit: My bed was curtained with good wholesome airs, And being weary, I went up no stairs: The sky my canopy, bright _Phoebe_ s.h.i.+ned Sweet bawling _Zephyrus_ breathed gentle wind, In heaven's star-chamber I did lodge that night, Ten thousand stars, me to my bed did light; There barricadoed with a bank lay we Below the lofty branches of a tree, There my bed-fellows and companions were, My man, my horse, a bull, four cows, two steer: But yet for all this most confused rout, We had no bed-staves, yet we fell not out.

Thus nature, like an ancient free upholster, Did furnish us with bedstead, bed, and bolster; And the kind skies, (for which high heaven be thanked,) Allowed us a large covering and a blanket; _Auroras_ face 'gan light our lodging dark, We arose and mounted, with the mounting lark, Through plashes, puddles, thick, thin, wet and dry, I travelled to the city _Coventry_.

There Master Doctor _Holland_[9] caused me stay The day of _Saturn_ and the Sabbath day.

Most friendly welcome, he me did afford, I was so entertained at bed and board, Which as I dare not brag how much it was, I dare not be ingrate and let it pa.s.s, But with thanks many I remember it, (Instead of his good deeds) in words and writ, He used me like his son, more than a friend, And he on Monday his commends did send To _Newhall_, where a gentleman did dwell, Who by his name is hight _Sacheverell_.

The Tuesday _July's_ one and twentieth day, I to the city _Lichfield_ took my way, At _Sutton Coldfield_ with some friends I met, And much ado I had from thence to get, There I was almost put unto my trumps, My horse's shoes were worn as thin as pumps; But n.o.ble _Vulcan_, a mad smuggy smith, All reparations me did furnish with.

The shoes were well removed, my palfrey shod, And he referred the payment unto G.o.d.

I found a friend, when I to _Lichfield_ came, A joiner, and _John Piddock_ is his name.

He made me welcome, for he knew my jaunt, And he did furnish me with good provant: He offered me some money, I refused it, And so I took my leave, with thanks excused it, That Wednesday, I a weary way did pa.s.s, Rain, wind, stones, dirt, and dabbling dewy gra.s.s, With here and there a pelting scattered village, Which yielded me no charity, or pillage: For all the day, nor yet the night that followed.

One drop of drink I'm sure my gullet swallowed.

At night I came to a stony town called _Stone_.

Where I knew none, nor was I known of none: I therefore through the streets held on my pace, Some two miles farther to some resting place: At last I spied a meadow newly mowed, The hay was rotten, the ground half o'erflowed: We made a breach, and entered horse and man, There our pavilion, we to pitch began, Which we erected with green broom and hay, To expel the cold, and keep the rain away; The sky all m.u.f.fled in a cloud 'gan lower, And presently there fell a mighty shower, Which without intermission down did pour, From ten a night, until the morning's four.

We all that time close in our couch did lie, Which being well compacted kept us dry.

The worst was, we did neither sup nor sleep, And so a temperate diet we did keep.

The morning all enrobed in drifting fogs, We being as ready as we had been dogs: We need not stand upon long ready making, But gaping, stretching, and our ears well shaking: And for I found my host and hostess kind, I like a true man left my sheets behind.

That Thursday morn, my weary course I framed, Unto a town that is _Newcastle_ named.

(Not that _Newcastle_ standing upon _Tyne_) But this town situation doth confine Near _Ches.h.i.+re_, in the famous county _Stafford_, And for their love, I owe them not a straw for't; But now my versing muse craves some repose, And whilst she sleeps I'll spout a little prose.

In this town of _Newcastle_, I overtook an hostler, and I asked him what the next town was called, that was in my way toward _Lancaster_, he holding the end of a riding rod in his mouth, as if it had been a flute, piped me this answer, and said, _Talk-on-the-Hill_; I asked him again what he said _Talk-on-the-Hill_: I demanded the third time, and the third time he answered me as he did before, _Talk-on-the-Hill_. I began to grow choleric, and asked him why he could not talk, or tell me my way as well there as on the hill; at last I was resolved, that the next town was four miles off me, and that the name of it was, _Talk-on-the-Hill_: I had not travelled above two miles farther: but my last night's supper (which was as much as nothing) my mind being informed of it by my stomach. I made a virtue of necessity, and went to breakfast in the Sun: I have fared better at three Suns many times before now, in _Aldersgate Street_, _Cripplegate_, and new _Fish Street_; but here is the odds, at those Suns they will come upon a man with a tavern bill as sharp cutting as a tailor's bill of items: a watchman's-bill, or a welsh-hook falls not half so heavy upon a man; besides, most of the vintners have the law in their own hands, and have all their actions, cases, bills of debt, and such reckonings tried at their own bars; from whence there is no appeal. But leaving these impertinences, in the material Suns.h.i.+ne, we eat a substantial dinner, and like miserable guests we did budget up the reversions.