The English Irish souldier with his new discipline, new armes, old stomacke, and new taken pillage: who had rather eate than fight. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A84017 of text R211832 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.6[12]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A84017 Wing E3093 Thomason 669.f.6[12] ESTC R211832 99870524 99870524 160873 2248507569

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A84017) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 160873) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 245:669f6[12]) The English Irish souldier with his new discipline, new armes, old stomacke, and new taken pillage: who had rather eate than fight. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. for R. Wood, and A. Coe, Printed at London : 1642. Verse - "If any souldate think I do appeare,". In two colums with a woodcut of the English Irish Souldier set between them. Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Political satire, English -- 17th century -- Early works to 1800. Ireland -- History -- 1625-1649 -- Humor -- Early works to 1800. Great Britain -- History, Military -- 17th century -- Humor -- Early works to 1800. A84017 R211832 (Thomason 669.f.6[12]). civilwar no The English Irish souldier with his new discipline, new armes, old stomacke, and new taken pillage: who had rather eate than fight. anon. 1642 1 491 2 0 0 0 0 0 41 D The rate of 41 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-09 Assigned for keying and markup 2007-10 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-12 Sampled and proofread 2007-12 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
THE ENGLISH IRISH SOVLDIER With his new Discipline , new Armes , Old Stomacke , and new taken pillage : who had rather Eate than Fight . IF any Souldate think I do appeare , In this strange Armes and posture , as a jeere , Let him advance up to me he shall see , I le stop his mouth , and we wil both agree . Our Skirmish ended , our Enemies fled or slain Pillage wee cry then , for the Souldiers gaine , And this compleat Artillery I have got , The best of Souldiers , I think , hateth not . My Martiall Armes dealt I amongst my foes , With ▪ this I charged stand 'gainst hungers blowes ; This is Munition if a Souldier lacke , He fights like Iohn a dreams , or Lents thin Jacke . All safe and cleare , my true Arms rest a while , And welcome pillage , you have foes to foile ; This Pot , my Helmet , must not be forsaken , For loe I seiz'd it full of Hens and Bacon . Rebels for Rebels drest it , but our hot rost , Made them to flye , and now they kisse the post And better that to kisse , then stay for Pullits , And have their bellies cram'd with leaden bullets . This fowle my Feather is , who wins most fame , To weare a pretty Duck , he need not shame : This Spit my well charg'd Musket , with a Goose , Now cryes come eate me , let your stomacks loose .

This Dripping pan 's my target , and this Hartichoke My Basket-hilted blade , can make 'em smoake , And make them slash & cut , who most Home puts , I le most my fury sheath into his guts . This Forke my Rest is , and my Bandaleers Canary Bottles , that can quell base feares , And make us quaffe downe danger , if this not doe , What is it then ? can raise a spirit into fearfull men . This Match are linkes to light down to my belly Wherin are darksom chinks as I may tell yee , Or Sassages , or Puddings , choose you which , An excellent Needle , Hungers wounds to stitch . These my Supporters , garter'd with black pots , Can steele the nose , & purg the brain of plots ; These tosts my shooestrings , steept in this strong fog , Is abl● of themselves to foxe a Dog . These Armes being vanisht , once againe appeare A true and faithful Souldier As you were ; But if this wants , and that we have no biting In our best Armours we make sorry fighting . FINIS .

Printed at London for R. Wood , and A. Coe . 1642.