A light heart's a jewel; Or,
The honest good blade who a free heart doth carry,
And cares for nothing but to have 's owne vagary.
TO THE TUNE OF Jacke Pudding's vagary
All you that merry lives doe lead although
your meanes bee little,
That seldome are o'erseene in bread, nor
take much thought for vittle:
Attend while Ile exemplyfie the mind that
I doe carry,
I take delight both morne and night to
have mine owne vagary.
Though fortune have not lent me wealth, as
shee hath done to many,
Yet while I've liberty and health, I'le be
as blith as any:
I'le beare an honest upright heart, there's
none shall prove contrary,
Yet now and then abroud I'le start, and
have my owne vagary.
No base profession I will chuse, therby to
get my living,
No Kent-street maunding will I use, my mind's
more bent to giving:
I will not say I'm this and that, with bug-beare
boasts to scare ye,
Let coxcombes prate they know not what, I'le
have my own vagary.
I am no Graves-end travailour -- no teller
of strange storyes;
No forger of Corantos, nor a man that evermore
is
Extolling of his owne deserts, and with proud
words will dare ye;
Let such as these are act their parts, I'le
have my owne vagary.
I am no haunter of the playes to picke poore
people's purses,
Nor one that, every word he saies, doth coyne
new oathes and curses:
If I doe runne on tapsters' scores to pay
them I am wary,
Let others spend their means on whoors, I
love mine owne vagary.
I am no blade nor roaring boy aboading in
the city,
No whiske, no lift, nor no decoy, nor one
that asks for pitty:
My education's not the best, yet such a heart
I carry
That what my humour ca'nt digest, it fits
not my vagary.
No city shuffler, scarce of age to have what
fate hath left me,
No haire-braind asse that's full of rage;
reason hath not bereft me:
No great bum-bayly that may fright my fearefull
adversary,
But one that loves and takes delight to
have his owne vagary.
No usurer that hords up trash, nor yet a
noted spender,
No borrowing sharke that never payes, but
to a friend a lender:
No petyfog, nor common-bayle, for no such
fellowes care I,
In honest sort I'le never faile to have
mine owne vagary.
The Second Part, to the same tune.
No bowling-alley rooke am I that sweareth
all by "dam mee,"
By such I'le not o'er-reached bee -- in this
there's none can blame mee;
No swaggering pimp, that champion is to Doll,
to Kate, and Sary,
I hate such slavish offices, those fit
not my vagary.
I care not to weare Gallant raggs, and owe
the taylour for them,
I care not for those vaunting brags, I ever
did abhore them:
What to the world I seeme to bee no man shall
prove contrary,
My suites shall suite to my degree, O
that fits my vagary.
I care not for those scarre-crowe blades
whose valour lyes in speeches,
That in discourse of manhood wades oft-times
above their reaches:
If I have not a minde to fight I'le urge
no adversary,
When word and deed both jump aright, O
that fits my vagary.
I care not for the broaker's booke, my name's
not there inrouled;
I nothing owe, therefore I looke by none
to be controuled:
I doe not feare the sergeant's mace, walke
by the counter dare I
And looke at bayliffe in the face, O this
is my vagary.
I care not much in company to spend what
is allotted;
I'le drinke but for sufficency, I'le never
be besotted:
When I doe feele my spirits dull, a cup of
old Canary
Will fill my heart with courage full, and
this is my vagary.
I care not for sad malcontent that is the
bane of nature;
I love good honest merryment, and I'le despise
no creature
That's for my use and sustinence; and still
I will bee wary
Least I exceed in my expence; that fits
not my vagary.
Still will I have an honest care that none
lyes wronged by mee,
I'le not build castles in the ayre, whoever
lists to try me
Shall find in all that's promis'd heere not
any word contrary,
I envious cesure doe not feare, I'le have
my owne vagary.
Printed at London for J. Wright, dwelling
in Gilt-spur street.
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