%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Hunting of the HARE, / WITH / Her last Will and Testament: / As 'twas perform'd on BANSTEAD-DOWNS, / By CONEY-CATCHERS and their Hounds University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/30/2014 33446

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R178323 1 To a most pleasant new Tune, &c. UNKNOWN To a most pleasant new Tune, &c. OF all Delights that Earth doth yield, / Give me a Pack of Hounds in field; Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 945 The Hunting of the HARE, / WITH / Her last Will and Testament: / As 'twas perform'd on BANSTEAD-DOWNS, / By CONEY-CATCHERS and their Hounds The Hunting of the HARE, WITH Her last Will and Testament: As 'twas performed on BANSTEAD DOWNS, By CONEY CATCHERS and their Hounds Printer W.O. ?-? W.O.

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family Featured folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 6/30/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America animals/ nature death entertainments mythology/ Classical Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/30/2014 2:40:02 PM XBallad Bell, Erik Created XML Version of Ballad 6/30/2014 2:40:02 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/30/2014 2:40:02 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Doran, Thomas Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/30/2014 2:40:02 PM Transcriptionist Two Aulakh, Pavneet Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/30/2014 2:40:02 PM Transcriptionist One Gutierrez-Jones, Natalia Transcription of ballad manuscript 2/26/2013 Checker William Hildalgo Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/5/2013 Checker Christopher Foley Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/6/2012 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Hunting of the HARE,</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">WITH</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left">Her last Will and Testament:</seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">As 'twas perform'd on <hi rend="bold">BANSTEAD-DOWNS,</hi> By CONEY-CATCHERS and their Hounds</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">To a most pleasant new Tune,</hi> etc.</hi></seg>
Of all Delights that Earth doth yield, Give me a Pack of Hounds in field; Whose Eccho shall throughout the Sky, Make Jove admire our Harmony, And wish that he a Mortal were, To view the Pastime we have here. I will tell you of a rare Scent, Where many a gallant Horse was spent, On Banstead-Downs a Hare we found, Which led us all a smoaking Round, O're hedge and ditch away she goes, Admiring her approaching Foes.
But when she found her strength to wast, She parly'd with the Hounds at last: Kind Hounds (quoth she) forbear to kill A harmless Hare that ne'r thought ill; And if your Master Sport do crave, I'll lead a Scent as he would have. Huntsman. Away, away, thou art alone, Make hast, I say, and get thee gone; We'll give thee Law for half a Mile, To see if thou can'st us beguile; But then expect a thundring Cry, Made by us and our Harmony.
Hare. Now since you set my life so light, I'll make Black-slowen turn to white, And Yorkshire Gray that runs at all, I'll make him wish he were in stall; And Sorrel he that seems to flye, I'll make him supple e're I dye. And Barnard-bay, do what he can, Or Baron's Bay, that now and then Did inturrupt me in my way, I'll make him neither jet nor play; Or constant Robin, though he lye At his advantage, what care I.
Will. Hatton he hath done me wrong, He struck me as I ran along, And with one pat made me so sore, That I ran reeling two and fro; But if I dye, his Master tell, That Fool shall ring my Passing-bell. Hound. Alas, poor Hare, it is our nature, To kill thee and no other Creature; For our Master wants a Bit, And thou wilt well become the Spit, He'll eat thy Flesh, we'll pick thy Bone; This is thy Doom, so get thee gone. Hare. Your Master may have better Chear, For I am dry, and Butter's dear; But if he please to make a Friend, He'd better give a Pudding's End: For being kill'd he Sport will lack, And I must hang o'th' Huntsman's back. Hound. Alas, poor Hare, we pity thee, If with our nature 'twould agree; But all thy Doubling-shifts we fear, Will not prevail, thy Death's so near: Then make thy Will, it may be that May save thee, or we know not what. Hare. Then I bequeath my Body free, Unto your Master's Courtesie; And if he please my Life to grant, I'll be his Game when Sport is scant; But if I dye, each greedy Hound, Divides my Entrails on the ground: Imprimis, I bequeath my Head, To him that a fair Fool doth wed, Who hath before her Maiden-head lost; I would not have the Proverb crost, Which i've heard 'mongst many Quiblets, Set the Hare's Head 'gainst the Goose-giblets. Item, I do give and bequeath, To Men in debt, (after my death) My subtle Scent, that so they may Beware of such as would betray Them to a miserable Fate, By Blood-hounds from the Compter-gate.
Item, I to a Turn-coat give, (That he may more obscurely live,) My swift and sudden Doublings, which Will make him pollitick and rich; Though at the last, with many wounds, I wish him kill'd by his own Houndst. Item, I give into their hands, That purchase Dean and Chapter's Land[s,] My wretched Jealousies and Fears, Mixt with the Salt of Orphants Tears, That long Vexations may persevere, To plague them and their Heirs forever Before I dye, (for Life is scant,) I would supply Mens proper want; And therefore I bequeath unto The Scrivener (give the Devil his due) That forgeth, swears, and then forsmes (To save his Credit) both my Ears. I give to some Sequestred Man, My Skin to make a Jacket on; And I bequeath my Feet to they That shortly mean to run away: When Truth is Speaker, Falshood's dum[b,] Foxes must flye when Lyons come. To Fidlers, for all Trades must live, (To serve for Strings) my Guts I give For Gamesters that do play at Rut, And love the Sport, I give my Skut: But last of all in this sad Dump, To Tower-hill I bequeath my Rump. Hound. Was ever Hounds so basely crost? Our Masters calls us off so fast, That we the Scent have almost lost, And they themselves must rule the roast: Therefore, kind Hare, we'll pardon you, Thanks, gentle Hounds, and so adieu. Hare And since your Master hath pardon'd me I'll lead you all to Banbury, Where John Turner hath a large Room, To entertain all Guest that come; To laugh and quaff in Wine and Beer, A fully Carouse to your Galleer.
Licensed and Enter'd according to Order. LONDON: Printed by and for W.O. and are to be sold by the Booksellers.