Chapter 30

THE GRAND SOLEMNITY OF THE TAYLOR’S FUNERAL.

Leper[109]in his life-time desired, That all those who came to attend his funeral, might be handsomely entertained with a half-penny-roll, and a pint of ale;[110]in memory of the many breakfasts he had made in his life-time: And furthermore desired, That those who were his former[111]relations and chief mourners, instead of a mourning ring, might be presented with a Taylor’s Thimble, in memory of his own trade, and round the rim to have this motto engraved:

Be sure you Feed Hell.

Round the room hung divers remnants of black-cloth, of the Taylor’s own cabbaging, for he was very honest that way, and never cabbaged but a quarter[112]out of a yard. At the four corners of the room stood four woolen-drapers, lamenting the loss of so good a customer, with each of them a white wand in his hand, just a yard long and a parchment label hanging on their shoulders, with this motto:

The Taylor has finished his work,And now he is gone to receive his wages.

The Taylor has finished his work,

And now he is gone to receive his wages.

At the head of the Taylor’s coffin, stood the goose triumphant, the cabbage blazoned, and the cucumber argent. On the lid of his coffin was engraven, on a brass plate, this applicable motto:

Hell is beneath me.

At the foot of the coffin was the sheers pendent, the bodkin rampant, and the thimble enclosed in three ermins.

When the Corpse was conveyed down stairs, each person was served decently round with a leaf of red cabbage, instead of a sprig of rosemary. Then the Corpse was hoisted on the shoulders of six piece-brokers, having each of them this motto:

The Taylor steals, we buy.

The pall was supported by those who sold stay-tape, buckram, and canvas.

The Corpse was followed down Cloth-fair by thirty-six master-taylors, each having a yard in his right-hand, with a parchment streamer at the end of it, with this motto:

We Taylors by our art and tradeDo often mend what God hath made.

We Taylors by our art and trade

Do often mend what God hath made.

Next followed twenty-four[113]woolen-drapers, two-by-two, bearing on their breasts this motto:

We deal in wool, but can’t forbearTo deal, alas! some times in hair.

We deal in wool, but can’t forbear

To deal, alas! some times in hair.

Then followed the like number of button-makers, wringing their hands with this motto:

Man’s but a Button, by my soul!The very Grave’s a Button-hole.

Man’s but a Button, by my soul!

The very Grave’s a Button-hole.

After these, followed a vast number of city ricketty hopper-arsed beaux, who had been padded up, and made into a complete gentlemen, by the deceased limb-trimmer, drying their watery eyes, with cambrick hankerchiefs, and having this motto engraved on their watch cases:

He’s gone who made us human shapes,And now we must again turn apes.

He’s gone who made us human shapes,

And now we must again turn apes.

But to conclude the procession: Last of all, followed a numerous croud of journeymen taylors, who were all slip-shoed, their stockings about their heels, their hats off, a skeinof thread hung carelessly about their necks; and their shirt collars were open, that they might have liberty to disturb their bosom friends. On their left sleeve was a cushion, whereon stuck abundance of Spanish and Whitchapel needles. The tails of their wigs were matted like horses’ manes, just as if they had come off the shop-board from work. On their left shoulders each had a long strip of parchment, whereon was written this motto:

The lice bite us, ’tis not deny’d,}We bite our masters when employ’d;}And they bite all the world beside.}

The lice bite us, ’tis not deny’d,}

We bite our masters when employ’d;}

And they bite all the world beside.}

At the bottom of Cloth-fair, the Corpse was arrested at the suit of an old herb-woman for elevenpence halfpenny,[114]which had been due a long time to the hag, for cabbages and cucumbers, which the deceased had in his life-time: However the journeymen-taylors manfully released the Corpse,[115]and afterwards marched on in ample procession to the house of one Ned Kemp, an honest piece-broker, where there was a spacious grave dug, between a large cabbage and a cucumber plant.

The FUNERAL SERMON was preached by Obadiah Backstitch, and the words of the text were these:

A remnant of all shall be saved.[116]

After which, the journeymen taylors were admitted into the house,[117]and each of them served with a halfpenny-roll, and a pint of ale, and so went weeping home, for the loss of so good a master.

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