The Golden Age: Or, An Age of plaine-dealing.
To a pleasant new Court tune:
Or, Whoope doe me no harme good man.
COme grant me, come lend me
your listning eares:
The golden Age now again
[...]
plainely appeares,
Carowse away sorrow,
and fling away feares,
Leaue your wife wealthy,
Shee'l neuer shead teares:
Oh this is a golden Age,
Oh this is a Iouiall Age,
The bountifull Lawyer
that neuer doth wrong,
To plead poore mens cases
for price of a song,
Who is by bright Angels
still guided along,
For twenty two shillings,
Hee'le lend you his tongue,
To plead in this golden Age,
Oh this is a Iouiall Age.
The Ladies haue put away
painting and pride,
The foolish French fashion
they cannot abide,
Without Maske or Caroches,
they ciuilly ride,
And to the poore people
Their purses ope wide:
Oh this is a bountifull Age,
Oh this is a liberall Age.
Base dealing is banisht,
and women growne chaste,
And by their owne Husbands
will scarce be imbrac'd,
And will not their times
in idlenesse waste,
For feare in their carriage
Thou should be disgrac
[...]d:
Oh this is an honest Age,
Oh this is a hopefull Age.
Your Cittizens bounty
is growne now of late,
To raise a poore Gallants
decayed estate,
Hee'l vtter his wares
at a reasonable rate,
And vnto all commers
Keepe open his gate:
Oh this is a bountifull Age,
Oh this is a liberall Age.
The valourous Souldiers
stout manhood is spred▪
With armes on his backe,
and Helmet on's head,
With Pike and with Musket▪
to the field they tread,
While the base Coward
Lyes sleeping in bed:
Oh this is a valourous Age,
Oh this is a warlike Age▪
The Courtier, his Taylor
doth pay with good will,
The Taylor he thinketh,
his payment is ill.
But yet if he yeerely,
doe cancell his Bill,
His onely desire is
To deale with him still:
Oh this is a ventering Age,
Oh this is a trusting Age.
The Usurer that lent out
his money before,
Hath burned his Bonds,
and lendeth no more,
Because his broad conscience
oppresseth him sore,
The Diuell still for him,
[...]
Oh this is a m
[...]nd
[...]ng Age▪
Oh this is
[...] Age.
The second Part.
To the same Tune.
THe couetous aged,
doe sore bruise their braines,
To make their yong Gallants,
sole Lords of their gaines:
But being once buried,
full little remaines,
But idle consuming
The fruit of their paines:
Oh this is a wasting Age.
Oh this is a spending Age.
The prodigall spender
consumeth his wit,
With foolish deuices,
his humours to fit,
At Ale and Tobacco,
if he can sit,
Like to a braue Gallant,
Taketh he it:
Oh this is a smoking Age,
Oh this is a fiery Age.
Dull Drunkards sit drinking,
and neuer giue o're.
Till they haue runne freely
on the Uintners score,
Brasse farthings in charitie,
fly to the poore,
While many gold pieces
Are spent on a W —:
Oh this is a dissembling Age,
Oh this is a wanton Age.
Old Robin Russet coat
walkes without Cloake,
Amongst our braue Gallants,
with pictures in's poake,
And learnes the new fashion,
to feede vpon smoake,
A foode farre more fitting,
The Diuell to choake:
Oh this is a burning Age,
Oh this is a smoking Age.
Grim the blacke Collier,
brings Coales to the towne,
In Sacks more then measure,
yet spends he his crowne,
From the broad Pillory,
to keepe himselfe downe.
Amongst the blue Beadles,
To purchase renowne,
Oh this is an honest Age,
Oh this is a mending Age.
The Baker, the Brewer,
doe both mend their size,
And with their plaine dealing,
base falshood defies,
Poore naked conscience,
well cloathed now lyes,
In their warme Bake-house,
Still held in great prize:
Oh this is a changing Age,
Oh this is a bettering Age.
The Weauer, Miller and Tailor
leaue off for to steale,
And with their worke-masters
more honestly deale,
In stead of dry browne-bread,
they make a good meale,
Or else to the Tapsters
We must here appeale▪
Oh this is an eating Age,
Oh this is a drinking Age.
All Trades-men grow weary,
of liuing by wrong.
The Punke and the Cutpurse
haue thriued too long,
The Hangman hath haltred
these Raskals vp strong:
And so for one penny,
I sell you my Song.
Oh this is a tottring Age,
Oh this is a hanging Age.
At London printed for I. T.