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              The Merry Andrew: or, the Humours of a Fair.

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                                  THE

                             MERRY ANDREW:

                                OR, THE

                          _Humours of a Fair._

                                 GIVING

                            A Description of

                       AMUSEMENTS IN EARLY LIFE.

                             [Illustration]

                          _Adorned with Cuts._

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                              WELLINGTON:

               _Printed and sold by F. Houlston and Son._

                            PRICE TWO-PENCE.




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                                  THE

                             MERRY ANDREW:

                                OR, THE

                           HUMOURS OF A FAIR.

    _Which begins in a Manner not at all wonderful._


HALLOO Boys, halloo Boys, Huzza! Huzza! Huzza!

Come, Tom, make haste, the Fair is begun. Here is Jack Pudding, with the
gridiron on his back, and all the boys hallooing.

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Make haste, make haste, but don’t get into the crowd: for little boys
are often trod upon, and even crushed to death by mixing with the mob.
If you would be safe, by all means avoid a crowd. Look yonder, Dick
Wilson there has done the very thing I cautioned you against. He has got
into the middle of that great mob. A silly chit; that boy is always
thrusting his nose into difficulties: surely there never was such an
impertinent little monkey. How shall we get him out? See how the rogue
scuffles and roars. He deserves all the squeezing he has got, because he
will never take advice; and yet I am sorry for him. Who tapped me on the
shoulder? O Sam, what are you come puffing and blowing! Why you look as
busy as a fool in the fair. Well, what news do you bring from the region
of nonsense? I have not seen it, and should be glad to know what is
done, without the trouble of attending.

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                               CHAP. II.

    _Sam Gooseberry’s Account of the wonderful Things of the
        Fair._


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WHY there is such a mobbing at the other side of the fair, says Sam, as
you never saw in your life, and one fat fellow has got among them that
has made me laugh immoderately—Stand further, good folks, says he, what
a mob is here! Who raked all this filthy crowd together? Honest friend,
take away your elbow. What a beastly crew am I got among! What a smell!
Oh, and such squeezing. Why, you overgrown sloven, says a footman, that
stood by, who makes half so much noise and crowding as you? reduce your
own fat paunch to a reasonable compass, sirrah, and there will be room
enough for us all. Upon this, the whole company set up a shout, and
crowding around my friend Tunbelly, so left an opening, through which I
made my escape, and have brought off Dick Wilson with me, who, by being
heartily squeezed, and having twelve of his ten toes trod off, is now
cured of his impertinent curiosity. But you desire an account of the
fair, and I mean to gratify you. The first thing I saw which gave me
pleasure, was old Gaffer Gingerbread’s stall.—See him, see

           Here’s gingerbread, gingerbread here of the best.
           Come buy all I have, and I’ll give you the rest.

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The man of the world for gingerbread. What do you buy, what do you buy?
says the old gentleman; please to buy a gingerbread wife, sir; here’s a
very delicate one. Indeed there is too much gold on the nose; but that
is no objection to those who drive Smithfield bargains, and marry their
wives by weight. Will you please to have a gingerbread husband, madam; I
assure you, you may have a worse; or a watch, madam; here are watches
for belles, beaux, bucks, and blockheads. But here comes Master Punch.
See, there he is, with his hunch at his back. The crowd that came with
him obliged us to leave the place: but just as we were going, Giles
called out, Gentlemen, buy a house before you go. ’Tis better to buy
than to build. You have heard of the Cock that crowed in the morn, that
waked the Priest all shaven and shorn, that married the Man all tattered
and torn, that kissed the Maiden all forlorn, that milked the Cow with
the crumpled horn, that tossed the Dog, that worried the Cat, that
killed the Rat, that ate the Malt, that lay in the House that Jack
built. If there is any part you do not like, you may eat it; buy,
gentlemen, buy, and don’t build. Many of my friends have ruined
themselves by building. The insufferable folly of building a fine house,
has obliged many a man to lie in the street. Observe what the poet says
on the subject:

                  The man who builds the finest place,
                    And cannot for it pay,
                  Is sure to feel his wretched case,
                    While others in it lay.

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A little further we saw one with the Wheel of Fortune before him,
playing with children for oranges. What do you say? Twenty may play as
well as one. Ay, and all may lose I suppose. Go away, sirrah, what, do
you teach, children to game!—Gaming is a scandalous practice. The
gamester, the liar, the thief, and the pickpocket, are first cousins,
and ought all to be turned out of company.

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At this instant up came _Dick Sadbury_, crying. And what do you think he
cries for? Why he has been at the gaming table, or in other words at the
Wheel of Fortune, and lost all the money that was given him by his
father and mother, and the fairings that he received from Mr. Long, Mr.
Williams, and Mrs. Goodenough. At first he won an orange, put it into
his pocket, and was pleased; and then he won a knife, whipt it up, and
was happy; after this he won many other things, till at last Fortune
turned against him, as at one time or other she always does against
those that come to her wheel and seek her favours, and he was choused
out of all his money, and brought nothing away but a half-penny
jew’s-harp. Why do you bellow so, you monkey? Go away, and learn more
sense for the future.

                Would you be wealthy, honest _Dick_,
                  Ne’er seek success at Fortune’s Wheel;
                For she does all her votaries trick,
                  And you’ll her disappointment feel.
                For wealth, _in virtue_ put your trust,
                Be _faithful_, _vigilant_, and _just_.

Never game, or if you do, never play for money. Avoid a gamester as you
would a mad dog, or as a wolf that comes to devour you.

Hey day! who comes here? O, this is the Mountebank.

                             [Illustration]

                   He talks of curing every sore,
                   But makes you twice as many more.

But hear him! hear his speech, and observe the Merry Andrew.

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                         _The Doctor’s Speech._

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Gentlemen and Ladies, I am the doctor of all doctors, the great doctor
of doctors, who can doctor you all. I ease your pains gratis, cure you
for nothing, and sell you my packets that you may never be sick again.
(Enter Andrew blowing on a scrubbing-broom.) Sirrah, where have you been
this morning?

_Andrew._ Been, sir! why I have been on my travels, sir, with my knife,
sir; I have travelled round this great apple. Besides this, I have
travelled through the fair, sir, and bought all these gingerbread books
at a man’s stall, who sells learning by weight and measure, arithmetic
by the gross, geometry by the square, and physic and philosophy by the
pound. So I bought the philosophy: and left the physic for you, master.

_Doctor._ Why, sirrah, do you never take physic?

_Andrew._ Yes, master, sometimes.

_Doctor._ What sort do you take?

_Andrew._ Any sort, no matter what; ’tis all one to me.

_Doctor._ And how do you take it?

_Andrew._ Why I take it—I take it—and put it upon a shelf: and if I
don’t get well, I take it down again, and work it off with good strong
ale. But you shall hear me read in my golden books, master.

             He that can dance with a bag at his back,
             Need swallow no physic, for none he doth lack,
             He who is healthy, and cheerful, and cool,
             Yet squanders his money on physic’s a _fool_.
             Fool, master, fool, master, fool, fool.

_Doctor._ Sirrah, you blockhead. I’ll break your head.

_Andrew._ What, for reading my book, sir?

_Doctor._ No; for your impudence, puppy. But come, good people, throw up
your handkerchiefs, you lose time by attending to that blundering booby;
and by and by you’ll be in a hurry, and we shall not be able to serve
you. Consider, gentlemen and ladies, in one of these packets is
deposited a curious gold ring, which the purchaser, whoever he may
happen to be, will have for a shilling, together with all the packet of
medicines; and every other adventurer will have a packet for one
shilling, which he may sell for ten times that sum.

_Andrew._ Master, master, I’ll tell you how to get this ring, and a
great deal of money into the bargain.

_Doctor._ How, sirrah?

_Andrew._ Why, buy up all of them yourself, and you will be sure of the
ring, and have the packets to sell for ten shillings a-piece.

_Doctor._ That’s true; but you are covetous, sirrah: you are covetous,
and want to get money.

_Andrew._ And, master, I believe you don’t want to get physic.

_Doctor._ Yes I do.

_Andrew._ Then ’tis to get rid of it. But,

             He that can dance with a bag at his back,
