The DORSETSHIRE GARLAND,
Or, The BEGGAR's WEDDING.
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PnRT I.
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ALL you that delight in a jest that is true,
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Give ear to these lines I unfold unto you;
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I'm sure you will smile when the same you hear,
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This frolic was acted in fair Dorsetshire.
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Now a nuble knight of renown lived there,
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Who had a daughter of beauty most clear;
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Hard by liv'd a merchant who had riches store,
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Who had but one son, whom he did much adore.
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This knight and merchant being neighbours near,
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In friendship they liv'd, and lov'd each other dear.
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Now they had agreed, these infants so dear,
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Should ba man and wife when come to riper year.
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The merchant fell sick, and the lady likewise,
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They sent for the knight with tears in their eyes,
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Saying, From the world we soon must part,
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And leave our baby the joy of our heart.
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I hope if we leave our dear child to your care,
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With all our estate and worldly affair,
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You'll take care of him when we're laid in the grave,
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Nay furthermore grant us the thing that we crave.
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Thet you do not break your promise to me,
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But give your fair daughter his bride to be.
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But if he should die 'ere he to age doth come,
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Then all that I leave him is to be your own.
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To the church of England I'd have him brought,
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And to serve his maker let him be taught;
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That we may meet together in heaven above,
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Dear sir, said the knight, for the friendship and love
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That has pass'd betwixt us. I'll take special care,
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How I do bring up your young son and heir,
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Now if that the Lord so long gives me life,
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My daughter shall be your son's sweet wife.
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So then for the babies they sent for with speed,
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And the merchant said, Now my heart does bleed,
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For to leave them behind, but it must be done,
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Death calls me hence, and my glass is run.
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His will being made, I'm content, he did say,
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And kissed the babes with lips cold as clay.
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So both in one minuet did yield up their breath,
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The happiest couple that lived on earth.
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The merchant and his wife both laid in one grave,
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He takes home the child, and kept it most brave;
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So the knight's daughter and the merchant's son,
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Became the public talk around the town.
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These children loved each other so dear,
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As this covetous knight began to fear.
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His promise he now accounts but a jest,
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How he must perform, which disturbed his rest.
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My daughter, said he, is a beauty must bright,
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She will be fit for a lord or a knight.
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But ten thousand pounds is left to the boy,
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I must find means his life to destroy.
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PART II.
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HE hired a beggar the child to kill,
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So the innocent babe thinking no ill,
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As they both at sport were busy at play,
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The treacherous knight with a false laugh did say,
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Come, Jemmy, will you go and take the air?
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And I! worthy sir, said the daughter so fair,
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For to gather daiz[i]es with Jemmy will go.
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But her father answere'd, It must not be so.
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You must stay at home till he comes back again.
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So this innocent child like a lamb to be slain,
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Did go with the beggar many a long mile,
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Who at length to him did speak with a smile:
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Pray where are you going, sir, tell unto me,
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Must I go no more pretty Susan to see?
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So his innocent talk made the beggar relent,
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So home to his wife with the ch[i]ld away went,
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And told her the story, the woman then said,
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Lo! he's a fine creature and a well-favour'd babe.
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So a-begging with us I pray let him go,
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We'll call him our son, let us order it so.
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But five years of age was this merchant's son,
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Yet he for the loss of his Susan did mourn.
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So the beggarman's wife to her husband did say,
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Come, let us contrive to steal Susan away.
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It is but justice to cheat the cruel man,
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That wants this innocent for to trapan;
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So the beggar to Dorset then instantly went,
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For to steal young Susan was resolute bent.
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He brought her ten miles, 'till they came to a town,
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And stript off her cloaths as she mightn't be known.
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Ank over a hedge he threw them indeed,
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And homewards at night did hasten with speed.
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In two or three hours he arriv'd at his cell,
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Where a noble legion of beggrrs did dwel,
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Where now I must leave those beggars so young,
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And return to the knight who did bitterly mourn.
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An hue and cry he scnds to every town,
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For finding his daughter there's five hundred pound.
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They brought him the cloaths as found in the field,
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Which made him believe his daughter was kill'd.
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Now, heavens! he said, I see in is just,
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This innocent babe whom I had in trust,
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His blood cries for vengeance, I have my desert,
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I have lost my daughter, the joy of my heart.
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So now let us leave this base traytor to mourn,
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Who wander'd about like one that's forlorn;
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And turn to young Jemmy and Susan also,
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Who along with the rest now a-mumping did go.
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Now the beggar them for his children did own,
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And most dutiful children that ever was known,
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Which pleas'd him so well, to Doll he did say,
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The money that was gave me this babe to slay,
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He shall have for his portion, and twice as much more.
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And since that each other they do so adore,
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If they do live to the age of eighteen,
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We'll have the best wedding that ever was seen.
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For Jemmy and Susan in marriage shall join,
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Do not me controul for this frolic of mine,
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A score of bold suitors I swear shall be there,
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We will keep this wedding in fair Dorsetshire.
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We will give it out upon such a day,
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A brave beggar's wedding there is to be.
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The gentry will be eager to see such a sight,
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And if he is living, that base perjur'd knlght.
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When that this wedding is done and all o'er,
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I'll take this young couple unto their own door,
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And make him a present of his daughter fair,
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And take to him Jemmy his son and heir.
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Old Doll she was pleased to hear him say so,
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So merrily out they a-cruisidg did go.
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For thirteen long years they at this rate did run,
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At length the fix'd time for the wedding was come.
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PART III.
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THE richest attire that ever was bought,
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With silver ond gold it was richly wrought,
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For the bridegroom and bride they then did prepare
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And so took their journey into Dorsetshire.
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A score of the best that belong'd to the tribe,
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They took along with them to credit the bride,
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The lame with their crutches, the halt and the blind
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Were plac'd in great order to follow behind.
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And having been two or three days in the town,
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The fame of this wedding it spread up and down.
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The rich and the poor were all curious to see,
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And many resolv'd the bride's guest to be.
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They hired the noblest hall in th town,
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That rich and the poor might get room to sit down.
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But Jemmy and Susan we[r]e both kept secure,
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'Till they in their splendor appear'd at the door.
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Some hundreds of people stood by for to gaze,
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At the sight of the couple were struck in amaze;
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For she did appear like an angel divine,
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And he did the rest of his sex far outshine.
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Old Doll and her husband did follow the bride,
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With a budget of good bread and cheese by her side.
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And after came hoping the blind and the lame,
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Such a wedding in England was ne'er before seen.
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This couple were not asham'd of their guest,
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Because they nothing did know of their birth,
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But joined in marriage, they back did return,
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And now for the pastime they had, sir, at home.
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They furnish'd the table with good wedding cheer
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They mump'd on the road to fair Dorchester.
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Good rhine of fat bacon, and old musty cheese,
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And noggins of ale as much as you please.
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Dinner being over, starts up one of the gbest,
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And pull'd out his bagpipes, add play'd up the best,
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The lame and the blind went to dancing the hay,
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And the gentry flock'd as they would to a play.
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Amongst the rest came this treacherous knight,
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Fixing his eyes on his daughter so bright.
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His heart did flutter and throb in his breast,
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His spirits were seiz'd, and his mind opprest.
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Old Doll cry'd, We must have a jig of the bride,
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Come, play up a merry hornpipe she cry'd,
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Which Susan performed with so much grace,
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That she won the praise of every one in the place.
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Nay come, said the old man, 'tis a child of my own
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Come, jovial piper, strike up t'other tune:
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A health to the bridegroom let pass round the room,
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Tho a beggar brought up he's a merchant's son born.
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The knight hearing this stept up to the bride,
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Let me speak to you, fair creature, he cry'd;
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If you have the mark of a rose on your breast,
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Then you are my daughter I vow and protest.
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She shew'd him the mark: he immediately cry'd,
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Take home the bridegroom and the sweet bride,
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For this is my joy that's been missing so long,
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And her dear joy the merchant's young son.
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Bring the guests with you unto my home,
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I'll kindly receive you, and when I have done,
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I'll inform the world of my treacherous deed.
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Who can deny what the heavens decreed?
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The cripples snatch'd up their crutches and run,
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To see what great miracles there had been done,
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Her father confess'd the whole matter that night,
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All praised the beggar that sav'd the babe's life.
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All people upbraided him for his base crime,
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With grief he dy'd within a short time,
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And left this young couple six thousand a year,
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Who are stiled the beggars of fair Dorsetshire.
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Old Doll and her husband in splendor did dwell,
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This couple they loved them very well,
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You misers that are of a coveteous mind,
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Strive not to prevent what the powers design'd
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