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THE COPIE OF A LETTER SENT FROM The Roaring Boyes in ELIZIUM; To the two arrant Knights of the Grape, in Limbo, Alder­man Abel and M. Kilvert, the two great Projectorfor wine: And to the reſt of the worſhipfull Brotherhood of that Patent.

Brought over lately by Quart-pot, an ancient ſervant to Bacchus, whom for a long time they had moſt cruelly Rackt, but hope ſhortly to be reſto­red to his ancient liberties.

Whereunto is added, the Oration which Bacchus made to his ſubjects, in the lower World: publiſhed for the ſa­tisfaction and benefit of his ſubjects here.


Brought over by the ſame Meſſenger 1641.


BAcchus into Elizium tooke his way,
And to his crew proclaym'd a holy day
And taking up his Horne that held a Tonne
Of right Canary, drunk't off, and begunne
To wind it ſo loud that Elizium
Rang with the Noyes, and every Blade did come:
Firſt came the Poets, of each land, and tooke
Their place in order, learned Virgill ſtruck
In for the firſt, Ben Iohnſon caſt a glout,
And ſwore a mighty oath hee'd pluck him out,
And wallowing towards him, with a cup of Wine,
He did ſo rattle him with Catiline,
That had not Horace him appeas'd, 'tis ſaid
He had throwne great Sejanus at his head.
Next to theſe marcht a band of corpulent ghoſts
In ſcarlet faces furr'd with blew, brave hoſts,
With each his ſigne, and but they were ſo ſwarmy
They might have been gheſt ancients o' the Army.
Next after theſe in wrathfull haſt did puffe
A band in ſcarlet hoſe, and coates of buffe,
With baſtinadoes waving with their plumes
And ſtay they cry'd; that Raſcall that preſumes
To ſtirre a foot Dyes, Damme us ſhall we be thus
Abus'd when we doe carry Bacchus with us?
In this troop Bacchus was; and none need doubt him,
Becauſe they never went to th' field without him.
Then ſtrutted forward men of lofty gates,
And gallant, trayling after em, their eſtates
Like broken pikes, which they in toſſing had
Made ſhorter, and in handling them grew mad.
From theſe, a pretty diſtance, ſneaking follow'd
Some of the Clergy, not ſo truly hallow'd
But that they might entreated be to take
A ſmall refection for their learnings ſake,
And leſt they ſhould be brought (for due contrition
Of their faults) unto that Low-high-Commiſſion
They caſt away their coates leſt any gull
Should find holes in em, cauſe they were ſo full:
But then lep't in a noble Citty crew
That ſpent all one day what they got in two,
Who having ask't ſo long what doe you lack
Had loſt their words, and had receiv'd a crack.
The laſt that came of all theſe warlike Soemen
Was a huge band of ſargeants with their Yoemen,
But a mad Poet did begin to rayle
That they would bring Mace when there was no Ale;
And were condemn'd as moſt pernicious ſtinkers
Cauſe in their lives they were but taplaſh drinkers,
They ſtorm'd; but one of them (being a mounter
Told them they car'd not for em of a counter;
At which great Bacchus laught; and bad the ſinner
He and his fellowes ſhould goe fetch up dinner.
Neates tongues by thouſands came; but moſt were taken
With a ſalt gamon of Weſtphalia baken:
The Poets and the Soldiers flaſhing ſtood,
And great Ben: Iohnſon ſwore that it was good,
Anchovies ſwom in oyle; but to be briefe
Moſt of the Soldiers fell to powder'd-beefe
And (as an Hoſt was talking like a Parrat)
One ſnatch't his beard, and eate it for carret:
Bacchus drank round a health, and each one pledg'd it
And after, with another cup he wedg'd it
Untill their braines, by their cups often chiming
Left off their ſack and forthwith fell to ryming,
And one amongſt the reſt, amidſt his mirth
Talk't of the dearth of wines upon the earth,
A ſargeant that was thither late departed
For griefe, for 'las they ever were kind hearted,
Told them, that now amongſt the worlds great vices
Its authors were ſhrowd ſcar'd with their complices
And certifi'd em all, with good aſſurance
Two of the greateſt of them were in durance,
At which there ſuch a ſhout aroſe, for joy
That on a ſuddain it awaken'd Ny;
Who coming thither, in amongſt 'em cram'd
And asked if the Shipmoney were dam'd,
They anſwer no, but thoſe that did ware Sattin
And ſtood on Pantofles have loſt their Patten,
Whereat he laugh't, and his old jeſts did uſe
Why then, quoth he, they will be over ſhoes,
Then at the bord there grew a diſputation
If they ſhould ſend a letter of conſolation,
Unto theſe two late Priſoners, 'twas agreed
And thus with maturjudgement they proceed.


TO him whoſe name (I now directed am)
Has the firſt Letter of an Alderman,
Which is A what you pleaſe, I crav'd to bee
Unto that hand deliver'd ſpeedily,
Whom all doe hope has hither been preſerv'd
To be deliver'd to what 'has deſerv'd,
And to his brother likewiſe I would be
Becauſe he hath as great a ſhare as he.


MOſt worthy Sirs to be what you deſerve
Our ancient loves to you cannot ſo ſwerve,
From you, but that wee joyous ſhould be't ſee
Your ſudden coming to our company,
We have good Sack here for you where, you may
Drink a full Quart, and when you come to pay,
Not breake two ſhillings, but alas we know
Y'ave ſwallow'd Wine ſo long you cannot goe,
And it is ſaid, by ſome who wiſh your paine
You'l never ſtand on your owne leggs againe.
Indeed we ſtagger at it, for 'tis pitty
That two ſuch worthy members of the Citty,
Are ſo neere gelding of ſo many pounds
Of your eſtate, for ſure it much confounds,
Uhere below; that that ſhould be a crime
You did t'abate the Luxury of the Time,
For when wine is pull'd downe, ſure youth will rage
And then no doubt 'twill prove a drunken age.
Indeed you in our pints of Sack did ſtrip's
And made our purſes ſerve apprentiſhips,
Of ſev'n pence to the Drawer, which yet bred
This care and thrift to keep't unforfeited,
When oft we would have venturd, and truly
This ſmells of Cardinall Wolſye's policy.
But Sirs we pray you in great Bacchus name
Be carefull of your ſelves, and to your name,
Add mettle; for if you ſhould ſuffer in this traine
It would be but much wine caſt up againe,
And let it come, tis better it were out
Then choake you, and let ſilly people flout,
Yet good Phyſicians of the ſtate have ſ 'd
Caſting of coyne doth cure the paine ith head,
And take my word; Empſon and Dudley here
Say ſuch a Purge had ſav'd their lives then cheere,
Your drooping ſpirits, we ſpeake this to confirme
Your fortitude which ſince the Candel-mas terme,
Hath been aſſaulted, and y'have borne it out
Courageouſly, and like tall men and ſtoute,
Yt one thing, as your friends, (and we could wiſh
We could not lay it now within your diſh,)
It was not well done of you to undoe
So many poore men, of your owne trade too.
And yet ſome might deſerv'd; for they might bee
(As we doe very well know) ſawcy as wee,
And then (our worthy Cittizen) wee hope yee
Might very well undoe them by your copie,
And make em free of Beggers-Hall. This may
Be true; yet you doe not heare me ſay,
〈1 page missing〉
It is; No; we, that here doe feare no ſcore,
Have found your Citizens honeſty heretofore,
And will not now ſuſpect it. 'Tis our prayers
That we may heare ſometimes of your affaires
Wee heard how ready all your brethren were
To lay their Patents downe when they did heare
O'th Parliament, and ſome, in time agreed
With thoſe th' had injur'd, ere they did proceed,
And we admire to ſee you ſo are ſhot
To thinke your caskes would hold when theirs would not.
Your former courſes, queſtion'd now, may be
Compar'd to Sack, which when at libertie,
Stirres not; but being ſtopt as you are now
It burſts the caske, as your owne wine, has you.
And one thing wee'l adviſe you; that you feed
As happily as you can, and ſleepe at need;
For you are ſo much hated here by thoſe
That dy'd for griefe when prices of Wines roſe,
That they doe ſweare it ever as they drinke
You ſhall not eate a bit? nor ſleep a winck,
When you come hither; this upon our oath
They oft proteſted have againſt you both.
This is All that time gives us leave to write
Which we conjecture is no warning ſlight
And therefore thinke of it, and uſe as they
That wiſh your welfare; and doe laſtly pray
Theſe Letters may be read to informe you all,
That we below rejoyce at no mans fall;
And therefore tell thoſe fellowes that employ
Their idle quills for to bely our joy,
They doe amiſſe in laying of their tricks
On Charons boat, and Acheron and Stixs,
And ſo we bid farewell, and ſee you doe
Make much of Juſtice, ſhee'l make much of you.
This ſea'd, was ſtraight deliver'd to Quart-pot
To beare away; when Bacchus with a hot,
And fiery looke gap't thrice, and gave two knocks
Made 'em all ſhake and ſtand like ſenſeles ſtocks
Whilſt with a gravity he did reherſe,
This ſhort Oration (as it is) in verſe.


ANd yet, my Prudent Councell, let me tell 'ee
I ſee my bounty here doth too much ſwell yee,
Tis ſtrange that you ſhould favour ſuch a cauſe
And men that have ſo deep tranſgreſs't my lawes,
As theſe have; and to gives 'em ſuch kind words
In their juſt puniſhment, their crime affords,
No mercy; for the naked truth to tell
I well could wiſh there were a whip at Abel,
To jerke em, and to firke em, and to raiſe
Their memory as they rais'd wine of late dayes,
When like to Bakers (they the world to cozen
Did ſift wine, making foureteen pence to th'dozen,
Which is an innovation, for their good
To hoiſt up wine above the price of blood;
For their ten pence; you know, throughout all ages
Hath ever been, and is, the Hangman's wages.
Conſider of it: England, ſome of you
Nay I my ſelfe have been abuſed too,
How many of my ſubjects have refrain'd
The Taverne, my deere temple, cauſe 'twas ſtain'd,
With ſuch extorſion? and were faine
For want of two pence to goe home againe?
Two pence? why I will tell you, tis no leſſe
Then halfe a groat, and boldly I profeſſe,
For two pence more, a man might fully dine
Or purchaſe three parts of a pint of Wine,
Claret I meanwhite: how many here
Now in this place have kill'd themſelves with Beere,
Ev'n for this cauſe? Beſides we well may gather
That men oft times gave oe, when they had rather,
Have ſerv'd mee ſtill, I ſpeake it from my heart
In ſeven pints th'are cheated of a quart,
O injury! and yeyou wiſh theſe men
Here, that they might revive their trade agen,
That by their cunning having wrong'd you too
You then might curſe em as the Citty doe,
Write me a letter that may fully cruſh em
And not ſuch tickling lines as onely bruſh em,
Can you that are the Poets thinke upon
This ſad reſtraint upon your Helicon,
And not revenge it? can you ſtay
And ſee a weeks pay drunke out in a day,
By ſuperarogation? you that are
The luſty cap and feather-men of warre?
Can you my worthy hoſts fit and ſee thoſe
That make you weare od money in your noſe,
Under your noſe triumphing? can you men
You little lecturers that have but ten,
A yeare endure it; no, it ſhall not be
Weel have 'em downe, and now me thinks I ſee,
Your mind bent too't, drinke deep my ſubjects all
That wines ifaith ſhall with a ding-dong fall.

About this transcription

TextThe copie of a letter sent from the roaring boyes in Elizium; to the two arrant knights of the grape, in limbo, Alderman Abel and M. Kilvert, the two great projectors for wine: and to the rest of the worshipfull brotherhood of that patent. Brought over lately by Quart-pot, an ancient servant to Bacchus, whom for a long time they had most cruelly rackt, but hope shortly to be restored to his ancient liberties. Whereunto is added, the oration which Bacchus made to his subjects, in the lower world: published for the satisfaction and benefit of his subjects here.
Extent Approx. 14 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 5 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images.
SeriesEarly English books online text creation partnership.
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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A80488)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 156871)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 28:E156[8])

About the source text

Bibliographic informationThe copie of a letter sent from the roaring boyes in Elizium; to the two arrant knights of the grape, in limbo, Alderman Abel and M. Kilvert, the two great projectors for wine: and to the rest of the worshipfull brotherhood of that patent. Brought over lately by Quart-pot, an ancient servant to Bacchus, whom for a long time they had most cruelly rackt, but hope shortly to be restored to his ancient liberties. Whereunto is added, the oration which Bacchus made to his subjects, in the lower world: published for the satisfaction and benefit of his subjects here. [8] p. : ill. s.n.]Brought over by the same messenger,[London :1641.. (With a title page woodcut.) (In verse.) (Place of publication from Wing.) (Reproduction of the original in the British Library.)
  • Abell, William, fl. 1640 -- Early works to 1800.
  • Kilvert, Richard, d. 1649 -- Early works to 1800.
  • Great Britain -- History -- Charles I, 1625-1649 -- Sources -- Early works to 1800.

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  • Text Creation Partnership,
ImprintAnn Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2014-11 (EEBO-TCP Phase 2).
  • DLPS A80488
  • STC Wing C6153
  • STC Thomason E156_8
  • STC ESTC R22174
  • EEBO-CITATION 99871638
  • PROQUEST 99871638
  • VID 156871

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