Part 31

This cobbler happening to o’ertake The vicar in his walk, In friendly sort they forward march, And to each other talk.

Until the parson first proposed To stop and take a whet; So cheek by jole they hither came Like travellers well met.

A world of healths and jests went round, Sometimes a merry tale; Till they resolved to stay all night, So well they liked my ale.

Thus all things lovingly went on, And who so great as they; Before an ugly accident Began this mortal fray.

The case I take it to be this,— The vicar being fixt, The cobbler chanced to cry his trade, And in his cry he mixt

Some harmless words, which I suppose The vicar falsely thought Might be design’d to banter him, And scandalize his coat.

If that be all, quoth he, go out And bid them both come in; A dozen of your nappy ale Will set ’em right again.

And if the ale should chance to fail, For so perhaps it may, I have it in my powers to try A more effectual way.

These vicars are a wilful tribe, A restless, stubborn crew; And if they are not humbled quite, The State they will undo.

The cobbler is a cunning knave, That goes about by stealth, And would, instead of mending shoes, Repair the Commonwealth.

However, bid ’em both come in, This fray must have an end; Such little feuds as these do oft To greater mischiefs tend.

Without more bidding out she goes And told them, by her troth, There was a magistrate within That needs must see ’em both.

But, gentlemen, pray distance keep, And don’t too testy be; Ill words good manners still corrupt And spoil good company.

To this the vicar first replies, I fear no magistrate; For let ’em make what laws they will, I’ll still obey the State.

Whatever I can say or do, I’m sure not much avails; I stall still be Vicar of Bray Whichever side prevails.

My conscience, thanks to Heaven, is come To such a happy pass, That I can take the Covenant And never hang an ass.

I’ve took so many oaths before, That now without remorse I take all oaths the State can make, As meerly things of course.

Go therefore, dame, the justice tell His summons I’ll obey; And further you may let him know I Vicar am of Bray.

I find indeed, the cobbler said, I am not much mistaken; This vicar knows the ready way To save his reverend bacon. {97}

This is a hopeful priest indeed, And well deserves a rope; Rather than lose his vicarage He’d swear to Turk or Pope.

For gain he would his God deny, His country and his King; Swear and forswear, recant and lye, Do any wicked thing.

At this the vicar set his teeth, And to the cobbler flew; And with his sacerdotal fist Gave him a box or two.

The cobbler soon return’d the blows, And with both head and heel So manfully behaved himself, He made the vicar reel.

Great was the outcry that was made, And in the woman ran To tell his worship that the fight Betwixt them was began.

And is it so indeed? quoth he; I’ll make the slaves repent: Then up he took his basket hilt, And out enraged he went.

The country folk no sooner saw The knight with naked blade, But for his worship instantly An open lane was made;

Who with a stern and angry look Cry’d out, What knaves are these That in the face of justice dare Disturb the public peace?

Vile rascals! I will make you know I am a magistrate, And that as such I bear about The vengeance of the State.