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EBBA 20138

Magdalene College - Pepys
Ballad XSLT Template
Hockley in the hole: To the tune of
the Fidler in the Stockes.

There was a poore Scholler who loved a Lasse,
Whose father in London an Userer was,
The Schollers father in Hockley did dwell,
The Lasses in London as many knowes well:
the Scholler he loved her,
and often proved her,
At last with good wordes he obtained the goale:
with promises fed,
a plot he hath laide,
To carry the mayd to Hockley the hole.

Many good bargaines her father did bring her,
But serpent-like golde had no power to sting her,
She scorn'd such olde reffuge for all they were rich,
The Scholler though poore did content her much:
olde pieces of health,
did woo with there wealth,
But she did reject them, because they were olde:
the Scholler did woo her,
and closly came to her,
And at the last carryed her to the Hockley the hole.

Her father perceiving she did not regard,
Such olde wealthy Husbands that he had prepar'd,
But seeing her love, set all on a Scholler,
Whose whole revenues were scarce worth a doller:
hee sought to change her,
and banish the stranger,
And so lockt her up, cause she should not be stole:
but he was deceived,
and of her bereaved.
The Scholler her carryed to Hockley the hole.

No man was admitted this Mayden to see,
But such as were rich and of worthy degree,
Five olde toothlesse suiters each day did come to her.
In fine mumping manner with money to woo her:
she could not love them,
but did reprove them,
Her sinister[r] fortune, she did condole:
another she loved,
as after proved,
By him she was carryed to Hockley the hole.

The Scholler at last did devise a fine flight.
To steale her away in the dead of the night,
And boldly to dare he doth come in great hast,
And being come thither he knocketh a pace:
the Usurer wise,
loath for to rise,
Commanded his daughter to see who did call:
and being come downe,
her true loue she found,
Ready to carry her to Hockley the hole.

Which when she espyed full merry was she,
For now she was certaine she should beset free,
From fine doting suiters, and from a curst father,
Before she would stay she would run away rather:
fogetting her clothes,
to be rid from her foes,
Her fathers cramd bags she away with her stole,
who little thought all this while,
that they did him beguile,
And carry it away to Hockley the hole.

Hockley in the hole: The second part,
To the same tune.

THus was he deceived of much by his childe,
The Scholler the Usurer thus did beguile,
He wiped the noses of all the Rich five,
And by this adventure is likely to thrive:
onward hees going,
in riches flowing,
In every towne for Wine hee doth call,
thus being wise,
he got a prize,
The best that was brought to Hockley the hole.

Through Barnet he rides with his beautious lasse,
And thorow Saint Albons he freely doth passe,
A long unto Dunstable swiftly he goes,
Where hee is made welcome of all he knowes:
he did not delay,
nor long did stay,
But onward to Hockley without controle:
where having [stayd h]er,
his wife he made her,
And they were maryed at Hockley the hole.

Her father having mist her, grew heavy and sad,
But the losse of his money did make him stark mad
Like to Jeronimo, raging he goes,
The losse of his gelde was the cause of his woes:
that wrapped in care,
and urgd to dispaire,
up to his garret secretly he stole:
and for losse of his pelfe,
he hanged him selfe,
his daughter being maryed at Hockley the hole.

The mony these couple beare with them away,
was five thousand pounds, as the Country doth say
Wherewith he did live contentedly,
And with a part, a great farme did buy.
he helped the poore
with a part of his store,
And gave at this doore full many a dole:
thus liv'd they in joy,
and had a faire boy,
which prooved a rich man at Hockley the hole.

You Userers all be warned by this thing,
Gad not your fortunes nor life in a string.
Dispayre not for golde, for that cannot save yee,
And if you dispayre, the devil's ready to have yee.
give women their minde,
for Cupid is blinde,
And then you shall finde, contentment in all:
thus doe I end,
and to you commend,
this song that I have pend, from Hockley the hole.

Finis. W.H.
Imprinted at London for T.L.

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