Pimlyco. Or, Runne Red-cap Tis a mad world at Hogsdon.

Pimlyco . TRees that of late ( like wasted Heyres , Description of the Spring . Or like old men , dryed vp with cares , ) Stood poorely , now looke fresh & gréene , As Banck-rupts new set vp agen . Medowes that whilome barren lay , ( More naked than the trodden way , ) Weare garments now , wouen all of Flowers , And waite on Flora in her Bowers , Shepheards that durst not , ( for the cold , ) The Snowie heads of Hills behold , Now ( deftly piping ) from coole Fountaines , Lead Lambes and Kiddes vp to the Mountaines . The Day , when all Birdes hold their Weddings , ( Dauncing Loue-measures in soft Treddings , ) Is past : The Yeare did it resigne , In honour of Saint Valentine . And now his Fethered Couples sing , Their Nuptiall Songs before the Spring . The Vernall Gates are set wide open , And strew'd with Flowers and Herbes , in token That May ( Loues Queene ) is comming in , Who 12. full Moones hath absent bin . In this Swéet Season , from my bed , I earely rose , being wakened By 'th beating of a Golden-flame , Which ( to me ) in at window came . For from his Pallace in the East , Description of the Sun-rising . The King of Light in Purple drest , ( Set thicke with Gold and precious Stone , Which like a Rocke of Diamond shonne , ) Was drawne along heav'ns Siluer way , By the 4. Horses of the Day . And as the Chariot mounted higher , The Sun-god seem'd to ride in fire , Forth came he in this braue adorning , To court his Loue ( the Rosio Morning . ) The Chaines of Pearle about her necke , He tooke from her himselfe to decke , They were her fauours and he wore them Till night , and did agen restore them . The wonders ( of vn-valued worth , ) Which these two wrought , intic'd mee forth ; Weary with walking , downe I threw My bodie , on a bancke where grew The pretty Dazie , ( Eye of Day , ) The Prime-Rose which does first display Her youthfull coloors , and first dies ; Beautie and Death are Enemies . Cowslips sprung likewise here and there , Each blade of grasse ( stiffe as a Speare ) Standing vpright to guard the Flowers , As if they had been their Paramoures . Anon a Yonker and his Lasse , Might I see wrastling on the Grasse , Shee swore shee would not fall , and yet Shee fell , and did a Greene-Gowne get , ( A Greene-gowne , but no Gownè of Greene . . ) At length ( in Couples ) more were séene : Som ran , some walked , and some sat kissing , Nothing was lost , but what was missing . So close they ioynd in their Delights , That they all seemd Hermaphrodites , Or rather Mermaides on the land , Because the Shee s had th' vpper hand . They grac'd the fields , the fields them grac'd , For tho none were in order plac'de , But sat ( as Flowers in Gardens grow ) Thinly , which makes the brauer show . Yet ( like so many in one Roome , ) All seem'd to weaue within a loome , Some curious piece whose beautie stands , on the rare Skill of sundry hands . As thus they sat , and I them saw , A Frame ( as rare ) mine eies did draw ( With wonder ) to 〈◊〉 a farre , The brightnes of the Kingdomes * * London . Starre ; A thousand Stéeples , Turrets , Towers , ( Lodgings , all fit for Emperours . ) Lifted their proud heads boue the Skie , As if they had sole - Soueraigntie , Or'e all the Buildings in the Land , And séem'd on Hilles of Gould to stand , For the Suns Beames on them being shed , They shewed like Mynes new burnished . Upon the Left hand and the Right , Two * * Islington , & Hogsdon . Townes ( like Citties ) fed the Sight , With pleasure and with admiration , For ( as they stand ) they beare proportion , As to an Armie doe the Wings , ( The maine Battalion led by Kings . ) Mine eye his obiects could not vary , Yet tooke delight here still to tarry , But not knowing how to weare out time , By chance I found a Booke in Ryme , Skelton . Writ in an age when few wryt well , ( Pans Pipe ( where none is ) does excell . ) O learned Gower ! It was not thine , Nor Chaucer , ( thou art more Diuine . ) To Lydgates graue I should do wrong , To call him vp by such a Song . No , It was One , that ( boue his Fate , ) Would be Styl'd Poet Laureate ; Much like to Some in these our daies , That ( as bold Prologues do to Players , ) With Garlonds haue their Fore-heads bound , Yet onely empty Sculles are crownde : Neuer stopping , But euer dropping . Her Skin loose and slacke , Grayned like a Sacke , With a crooked backe . Her eyen gowndy , Are full , vnlowndy , For they are bleared , And shee gray heared , Iawed like a Ietty , A man would haue pitty , To see how shee s gummed , Fingerd and thumbed ; Gentlye Ioynted , Greased and annointed , Up to the knuckles , The bones her buckles , Together made fast , Her youth is far past : Footed like a Plane , Legges like a Crane , And yet shee will Iet , Like a Iolly Set , In her fur'd flocket And gray russet rocket , With Simper the cocket . Her Huke of Lincolne greene , It had beene hers I weene , More than fortie yeare , And so it doth appeare : And the greene bare threds Looke like Sere weedes , Withered like hay . The wooll worne away , And yet I dare say , Shee thinks herselfe gay Upon the holliday , When shee doth her array , And girdeth in her getes , Stitched & prancked with pletes : Her Kirtle Bristow red , With cloaths vppon her head , That they wey a sowe of lead , Writhen in a wonder wise , After the Sarazens gise , With a whim wham , Knit with a trim tram , Upon her braine pan Like an Egiptian , Capped about , When shee goeth out , Her selfe for to shew , Shee draweth downe the dew , With a paire of heeles , As broad as two wheeles , Shee hobbles as shee goes , With her blancket hose , Her sboone smeard with tallow , Greased vppon dirt , That danbeth the Skirt .

Primus Passus . And this comely Dame , I vnderstand her name Is Elynor Rumming , At home in her wonning : And as men say Shee dwelt in Sothray , In a certen stede Beside Lederhede , Shee is a tonnish gib , The Deuill and shee be Sib. I Red and smilde , but at the last , As toward the towne mine eye I cast , In mingled troopes I might beholde Women and men ( some yong , some olde ) Like to a Spring-tide , strongly flowing To Hogsdon , not one backward going . Out of the Citty rush'd the streame , A while ( me thought ) I did but dreame , That I saw people , till at last , Hogsdon ore-flowde , it swel'd so fast . I musde that from the Citty venturde Such heapes : for tho the Spring was enterde , They flock'd not thus to heare the Tune Of that bird who sings best in Iune , ( Yclip'd the Cuckoe ) as yet her note Shee had not perfect , but by rote : Ne durst shee sing yet , being not able In English , but in — to gabble . Nor was it like they made these througs , To heare the Nightingals sad songs , For Lust ( in these dayes ) beares such price , They are but mock'd that checke that Vice . Still more and more this Sea brake in , Yet ebb'd in one halfe houre agen , The Voyagers that first did Vaile , ( Hauing their Lading ) homeward saile . But with a side-winde were they driuen , Yet all cast anchor in one Hauen . Up went my sailes . With much adoo , In the same Port I anchorde too . Being landed there , all I could finde Was this , They came to hunt the Hinde . Into their Parke I forthwith wente , Being entred , all the ayre was rent With a most strange confused noyse , That sounded nothing but meere voyce . Amazde I stood to sée a Crowd Of Ciuill Throats stretchd out so lowd : ( As at a New-play ) all the Roomes Did swarme with Gentiles mix'd with Groomes . So that I truly thought , all These Came to sée Shore , or Pericles , And that ( to haue themselues well plac'd ) Thus brought they victualls ( they fed so fast ) But then ( agen mee thought ) This shoale Swom thither for Bakers doale Or Brewers , and that for their soules sakes , They thus were seru'd with Ale and cakes : For Iugs of Ale came réeling in , As if the Pots had drunkards bin . A sayler ( that had narrow eyes Through fumes that vp to his brainess did rize ) Got I by th' arme , ( children they say , And Fooles and Dronkerds , truth bewray ) Him therefore I desirde to show Why all these met . — T is Pimlyco — My Friend , T is Pimlyco ( hee cryde ) And no worde could I get beside . This made me madder then before , I ask'd another , and hee swore Zoundes — I 'me ten strong in Pimlyco — What 's that saide I ? — stowt Pimlyco — And backe , at least three yardes hée réeles , — Pimlyco trips vp good mens heeles ( Lisping ) he cryes , and downe he falls , Yet for more Pimlyco — still he calls . What Pimlyco should meane I wondred , Because so lowd , that word still thundred From all their throats through all their eares , At length , a reuerend man ( whose yeares Had tourn'd his head and beard all gray , And came but to beholde That Play , And not to act himselfe The Vice ) Tolde all the Dronken Misteries . And that the Ale got such high Fame , Only by that fond , senceleffe Name . I laugh'd to see a World ( so wise , So subtile in all villanies , So scorning to be laugh'd to scorne ) Should be so drownde with Ale in Corne . Yet since in Hogsdon all ran mad , I playde the Mad-man too , and had My Iug brought in ; a draught or twaine Made such hot boyling in my braine , That ( faster then their Pots were filde ) From my Inuention were distilde Verses in Pimlyco's high prayse , Pimlyco crownde my head with bayes . For straight I felt my selfe a Poet , And ( like some fooles ) in Rime must show it . Yet first I tournde o're Skeltons Rimes With those mad times to weigh out Times , And try how Elynor Rummings Ale , Was Brew'd ; and Drawne , and set to Sale , What Guests drunk there , and what Drinke heere , In this wilde Lantskip shall appeare . BUt to make vp my tale , She brueth nappy Ale , And maketh thereof poort sale , To trauaylers , to tynkers , To sweaters , to swinkers , And all good Ale drinkers , That will nothing spare , But drinke till they stare , And bring them selues bare , With now away the Mare , And let vs flay care , As wife as an hare . Come who so will To Elynor on the hill , With fill the Cup fill , And sit thereby still . Early and late , Thither commeth Kate , Cisley and Sare , With their legges bare , And also their feet , Hardly full vnsweet , With their heeles dagged , Their kirtles all to iagged , Their smockes all to ragged , With titters and tatters , Bring dishes and platters , With all their might running , To Elynor Rumming , To haue of her Tunning , Shee leaueth them of the hame , And thus beginneth the game . Some wenches come vnbraced , With their naked pappes , That flippes and flappes , It wigges and it wagges , Like tawney saffron bagges , A sort of fowle drabbes , All scuruy with scabbes , Some be fly bitten , Some skewd as a kitten , Some with a shooe clowte , Binde their heads about , Some haue no haire lace , Their lockes about their face , Their tresses vntrust , All ful of vnlust . Some looke strawry , Some cawry mawry , Full vntidy tegges , Like rotten egges , Such a lewd sort , To Elinor resort , From tyde to tyde ; Abide , abide , And to you shal be told , How her Ale is sold , To mawt and to molde .

Secundus Passus . Some haue no monney , That thither commy , For their Ale to pay , That is a shrewd aray . Elinour sweared , nay Yee shall not beare away My Ale for nought By him that me bought . With hey dog hay , Haue these dogges away , With get me a staffe , The swine eate my draffe , Strike the hogs with a club , They haue drunke vp my swilling tub , For be there neuer so much prease , These swine goe to the hye dese , The sow with her pigges , The Bore his taile wrigges Against the hye bench , With fo , there is a stench , Gather vp thou wench , Seest thou not what is fall , Take vp drit and all , And beare out-of the hall , God giue it ill preuing , Clenly as euill cheuing . But let vs turne playne , There wee left agayne , For as ill a patch as that , The hennes run in the mash fat , For they goe to roust , Strayt ouer the Ale ioust , And dong when it comes In the Ale tonnes , Then Elinor taketh The mash boll , and shaketh The hennes dong away , And skommeth it in a tray Where as the Yest is , With her maungy fistis : And sometimes she blens , The dong of her hennes And the Ale together , And saith Gossip come hither , This Ale shall be thicker , And floure the more quicker , For I may tell you , I learned it of a Iew , When I began to brew , Drinke now while it is new . And yee may it brooke , It shall make you looke Yonger than you bee Yeeres two or three . For yee may proue it by me , Behold she said , and see , How bright I am of blee , Ich am not cast away , That can my husband say , When wee kisse and play , In lust and in liking , He calleth me his whyting , His Mulling , and his Nittine His Nobbes and his Cunny , His sweeting and his honny , With basse my pretty bonny , Thou art worth good and monny , This make I my falyre fanny , Till that he dreame and dronny . For after all our sport , Than will hee ront and snort , Then sweetly together we lye , As two Pigges in a stye . But we will turne playne , Where we left agayne .

Tertius passus . In stead of coyne and monny , Some bring her a conny , And some a pot with honny , Some a salt , and some a spoone , Some their hose , some their shoon . Some ran a good trot , With a skillet or a pot , &c.

Cum multis alijs , quae nunc perscribere longum est .

Hoc est Skeltonicum , Incipit Pimlyconicum . OF Pimlyco now let vs sing , Rich Pimlyco , the new-found Spring , Where men and women both together , To warme their vaines in frosty weather , Where men and women hot blouds coole , By drincking Pimlycoes boyled poole . Strong Pimlyco , the nourishing foode To make men fat , and bréed pure blood ; Deepe Pimlyco , the Well of Glee , That drawes vp merry company . Bewitching Pimlyco , that tyes The Rich and Poore , the Foole and Wise , All in one knot . Of that we write ; Inspire your Poet to indite , You Barlie Muses Pimlyconian , He scornes the Muses Helyconian ; ( Poore Soules ! ) they none but water drincke , But Pimlyco dropt into his yncke , His lines shall flye with merry gale , No Muse is like to Pimlyco Ale . Not the neat Wine De Orleans ; Nor of Hebrian , ( best in France ; ) Not Gascoigne , nor the Burdeux Vine , Nor that which flowes from swift-foote Rhyne ; Not Sheerys S●cks , nor Charnico , Peter Semine , nor Mallago , Nor th' Amber-colored Candie grape , Which druncke with Egges makes men to — Ape . Nor can the Greekish Vintage show A liquor matching Pimlyco . Not Hipocras ( the drinke of women . ) Nor Bastards ( that are déere , but common , ) Nor the fat lecherous Alligant , Whose Iuice repaires what Backes doe want . Nor Waters drawne by Distillations , With medcinable Operations , As Rosa Solis , Aqua Vitae , And Nugs of Balme , so quicke , and sprighty ; No , nor the Irish Vsquebagh , Of which , the Kerne whole pyntes will quaffe , Strong Vsquebagh ! that hotlier burnes Than Sackes , and white the Entrailes turnes . Nor welsh M●theglyn , ( browne as berry ) Lancashier Syder , Werstershier Perry , Nor yet a draught of Darby Ale , Nor mother Bunch , ( long since growne stale , ) Nor that old two-peny Ale of Pynder , That many a Porter oft did hinder From carrying Burdens , for ( alacke ! ) The Ale had strength to breake his backe . Nor all those Drinkes of Northren Climes , Whose Brewings shall fill vp our Rimes , Brant , Rensque , and the cleere Romayne , The Belo , Crasno , and Patisane , Peeua ( to them as is our Béere , ) With spiced Meades ( wholsome , but déere ) As Meade Obarne , and Meade Cherunck , And the base Quasse by Pesants drunck . With all the rest that whet the sprites Of Ruffes and cold Muscouytes . Not all these Drinkes , nor thowsand moe , Can reach the fame of Pimlyco . To prooue ( ô Pimylco ) these thine honors , Armies each day spread Crimson benners , And with h●e Colours , and quicke shot , Fight stifly till the field be got . All Sexes , all Degrées , all Nations , All men of Arts or Occupations , ( As if for gayne to some great Fayre , ) Onely for Ale to thee repayre . The English , Scottish , Dutch and French , Sit whistling here vpon one bench : If but of Pimlyco they drinke hard , Betwixt them falls not one foule word , They kisse like brothers , Dutch , French , Scot , Are all One in a Pimlyco Pot. Hither come Sergeants with their Maces , Hither come Bailiffes with red faces , Hither come Lads and greaste Lownes , Hither come pockets full of Crownes , Hither come those can scarce find Baile For sixe pence , yet spend eight in Ale . Usurers battle ( here ) their pence , The Diuell can scarce kéepe Brokers hence , The Lawyer that in Terme-time takes Fat fées , pleades here for Ale and Cakes . Doctors , Proctors , Clarkes ; Atturneis , To Pimlyco make sweattie iourneis , And ( being well Arm'd with Buckram bags , ) Fight vnder Hogsdons skarlet flags . The Winde our Merchants this way driues , Whilst their men take vp for their wiues Roomes before hand : and oft it hits , Not farre from them some Fish-wife sits . For ( here ) of manners none take héed , First come , first seru'd , first seru'd first féed . Citizens , Souldiers , Sea-men , Schollers , Gentlemen , Clownes , Millers , Colliers , Mercers , Taylors , Poets , Booke-bynders , Grocers , Curriers , Goldsmiths , goldfiners , Silkemen , Botchets , Drapers , Dray-men , Courtiers . Carters , Church-men , Lay-men , Midwiues , Apple-wiues , Cheape-fide Ladies , Old Beldames , and yong Tiffany Babies , Scotch-bums , red Wast-coats , fine Pawne-wenches , In the same roomes , on selfe same benches , Crown'd All together : All Drincke , All Pay , Why then should any giue the way ? Roomes here are by Reuersion got , As Offices , so men win the Pot. Both Pray and Pay , and wait , and wooe , That Foure may buy , what goes for two , Yet t is refusde . The Sexton scornes To budge to a Br●ght . All stay their Tourns As at the Conduit or the Mill , And nothing s s heard , but Fill , Fill , Fill , Bespeaking one anothers Cups . As men do Chayres in Barbors shops On Christmasse Geues . A hundred laps Held vp for cakes ; As many caps Put off for Ale , whose iuice embalmes Their Browes 't is beg'd , as t' were an almes , Yet all hold Siluer vp , and cry Take mine , ( as at the Lottery . ) Drawer , néed not baule Anon , Anon , Each Guest for his owne Drinck does run , Braue men turne Tapsters , Women Caters , For Ten that sit , there 's Forty Waiters , French-Hooes , and Veluet Caps being prowd Sometimes , i' th Henroost close to crowd . O strange ! what makes the Cripple heere ? When strongest legs can hardly beare Those that stand on them , if they stand But stiffly too 't in Pimlyco Land : Yet euen that Wretch , ( that halts on wood ) All hoe fiue furlongs off it stood , Sweares he le lympe too 't , and too 't hée goes , And being there , his false legs does lose . After him , gropes the Blind , and cries , Pimlyco drincks not out mine Eyes . Pimlyco does so please the Mouth , They come from East , West , North , South . O Thou , ( the Pimlyconian Host , ) Had thy Head bin but like that Post , Which Scores what Ale and Cakes come in , Of greater Reckoning hadst thou bin . Hadst thou had Braines , but like to some , To know what Wether was to come By 'th Almanacke ; thou hadst changde thy lucke , Thy Hynde ere this had prou'de a Bucke . Alacke ! thy wits are lost in Brewings ; Th' art growne starke mad with too good Doings Thou , onely cryest , Who payes the Shot ? ( When the Maine Matters are forgot . ) Thou Barmy Foole , at last grow wise , Build thy House round with Galleries , Like to a Play-house ; for thy Ale ( Bee 't bad , bee 't good , bé et new , bee 't Stale ) Brings thée good Audience : from each shore , Ships of Fooles lanch , to séeke thy Dore ; Ere prodigall Gulls saile backe agen , Thei le pay thée money to come in : Kéepe then thy wife and thou , the dores , Let those within wipe out the Scores . Yet ( O vile counsell ! ) why do I labour To haue a Christian wrong his neighboure Each afternoone thy House being full , Makes Fortune blind , or Gelds The Bull. No , no , ( thou Pimlyconian Brewer ) Thy Castle of Comfort stands so sure , ( Moated with Ale , and wal'd with cakes ) Tho whirle-winds blow , it neuer shakes ; Therefore it needs no reparations , No Rampyres , no Fortifications , But onely Shot : Charge them Pell Mell , Let Pimlyco Ordinance go off well ; And Hogsdon séemes a Towne of warre , Where Constables the Captaines are , Leading to Stocks ( with Bils and Stanes ) Whole troopes of druncken Whores and Knaues , Who ( tho they cannot stand ) yet go , Swearing , Zounds hey braue Pimlyco . You therefore that do trade in Cans , ( Virginians , or Cracouians , ) You that in whole pots drinke your bane , Lying dead-druncke at The Labor in vaine : You Apron-men , that wéekely get By your hard labour and your sweat , Siluer ( earn'd deare , but honestly ) Enough to find your Family , Now leaue those places ( nam'd before ) Or if you 'le Drinke , maintaine a Score , But let your Wages ( in one Summe ) Be wisely sau'd till Sunday come , But ( with it ) buy , nor bread , nor broth , Nor house , nor hose , nor shooe , nor cloth , For food let wife and children Die , Sucke Pimlyco downe merrily , There dance and spend the day in laughter , T' is meat and drinke a whole wéeke after . You Ballad-Singers , that doe liue On halfe penny almes that Ideots giue , In euery Street ( to druncken Notes ) Set out your villanous yelping throates , That through all eares your Tunes may flow , With praises of Browne Pimlyco . You Poets that of Helicon boast , Whose mornings draught without a toast You alwayes take , but ne're 〈◊〉 so , Comming to tipple Pimlyco , ) O be more wise , and scorne that licquor , Drincke this , which makes your Muses quicker , Of This , thrée full Pots ( I assure yee ) Leaues you starke drunke with brauer furie . You that plough vp the salt Sea-flood , To fetch from farre , the Grapes deare blood . And with Out-landish drinks confound And mad the Brayne that is most sound : Your very Ships going neuer so steddy , ( With that moist Freight ) but euer giddy And réeling ( as an ominous Signe , That Those must réele , who Trade in Wine , From Shore to Shore what néed you saile , When Pimlyco breeds such Dragon-Ale ? You that of men déere recknings make , Yet at the Barre ( for what they Take ) Arraigne them , Charging them to Stand , Till they haue all held vp The Hand : Downe with your Bushes , and your Grates , Draw your selues thorow the Citie Gates , To Sacke the Walls of Pimlyco , Which day by day more strong do grow , And will in time ( to their owne Trench ) Driue backe both Spanish Wines and French : Or if no Shot can batter downe This Pimlyco Fort ; then , in the Towne , And in the fields and Common way , Pitch Tents , and openly display Your Banners ( drawne with Red and White ) Vnder those cullors Men will fight Till they can stand , else All are lost , And cut off by the Pimlyco Host . Here therefore sownd , Anon , Anon , For the mayne Army here coms on . O you that ( euery Moone ) hold Feasts , ( And in the True-loue-knot are Guests ) And doe with Wreathes your Temples crowne , ( At Lothbury , and at Horsey-downe , ) Let those Deare Fleshly-Meetings go , And Bath your Braynes in Pimlyco . You that by Engine no Whéeles can force Tydes to run backe and turne their Course , Whose wits in water still do Diue , ( O , if you wish that Trades should thriue , ) With lowd voyce to the Citie speake , That she her Conduit-Heads would breake , And onely build One Conduite-Head . At Pimlyco , that through pipes of Lead . The pretious Streame may be connayd , And Crafts-men so at home be stayd . You Bawds , you Pandars , Puncks and whores . That are chalk'd vpon Ale-house scores , You that lay Petticoats , Gownes , and Smocks To pawne for drincks to cure the Poxe , At Pimlyco some will take them from you , To drinke there then , shall best become you . Of Aley-Ilands there are more , ( Some new discouered , some before ) But neither th' Old nor New of name , Can equall Pimlyco in fame . Of these strange Ilands , Malta is one , Malta does Border close vpon The Continent of Pimlyco , And by her Streames more rich does grow , On Pimlyco Seas when t is fowle weather , That no Ship can get in ; then hither , ( To Malta ) flie they with swolne Saile , To buy the Iew of Malta's Ale . Thy Knights ( O Malta ) now do flourish , Pimlyco their renowne does nourish , All fealty therefore they doowe And Seruice to guard Pimlyco . Tripoly from the Turke was taken , But Tripoly is againe forsaken ; What Newes from Tripoly ? Would you know ? Christians flye thence to Pimlyco . Eye-bright , ( so fam'd of late for Beere ) Although thy Name be numbred hiere , Thine ancient Honors now runne low ; Thou art struck blind by Pimlyco . The New-found Land , is now growen stale . Few to Terceras Ilands sayie ; The once well-mand , 〈◊〉 Ship of Hull , That spred a sayle , proud , stiffe , and full , Leakes oft , and does at Anchor lye : Nay , euen St. Christopher walkes dry . Not halfe so many Christians ( now ) Their knées before his White-crosse bow . Run , ( Red-cap ) Run , amongst the Rest , Thou art nam'd last , that once wert best , But ( Red-cap ) now thy Wool is worne , By Pimlyco is Red-cap shorne . Our weary Muse ( here ) leapes to Shore , On these rough Seas she Sayles no more , This Voyage made shèe ( for your sakes , ) Spending thus much in Ale and Cakes . FINIS .