which when he heard, he could not but laugh at the first: yet in pitty of the poore Barber, he gave him twenty shillings towards his losse. The Barber, sighing, tooke it, and towards Brainford home he goes, and whereas hee came from thence in a new Cloake and a faire Hat, hee went home weeping in an old Hat, and a greene Jerken. The accompanying illustration is taken from a tract, in itself of no literary merit or humour, but the picture is amusing, representing a "Brown[F. 177] Dozen of Drunkards, ali-ass Drink-haros, Jocoseriously descanted to our wine drunk, wrath drunk, and zeale drunk staggering times." [99.] [Illustration] [Footnote 176: This lane was between Snow Hill and Fleet Lane.] [Footnote 177: Most probably meant for a _round_ dozen, or baker's dozen, as there are thirteen depicted and thirteen characters in the tract.] [94.] A drunken fellow returning home towards evening, found his wife hard at her spinning; she reproving him for his ill husbandry, and commending herself for her good huswifery, he told her that she had no great cause to chide, for as she had been spinning, he came home all the way reeling. There was a man bespake a thing, [91.] Which when the owner home did bring, He that made it did refuse it, And he that bought it would not use it, And he that hath it doth not know, Whether he hath it, I, or no. _Resolution_ A Coffin bought by another for a dead man. [86.] One affirmed that he had been in a certain Country, where their Bees were as big as our Sheep. This impudent lye one began to examine, and therefore said, sure then the Bee-hives must be of a huge bignesse; No, saith the other, they are no bigger than ours; How then can they get in? said one. This bogled[F. 178] the lyar like a Mouse in pitch; at last he answered, let them whom it concerns look to that. [Footnote 178: Puzzled, bothered.] A Health to all Good-Fellowes: or The good Companions Arithmaticke. To the Tune of, _To drive the cold Winter away_. Be merry my hearts, and call for your quarts, and let no liquor be lacking, We have gold in store, we purpose to roare, untill we set care a packing. Then Hostis make haste, and let no time waste, let every man have his due, To save shooes and trouble, bring in the pots double, for he that made one made two. I'le drink up my drinke, and speak what I thinke, strong drinke will make us speake truely, We cannot be termed all drunkards confirmed, so long as we are not unruly. Wee'le drinke and be civill, intending no evill, if none be offended at me, As I did before, so I'le adde one more, and he that made two made three. [Illustration]