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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1030-0.txt b/1030-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..323fb07 --- /dev/null +++ b/1030-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11250 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Cavalier Songs and Ballads of England, by +Various, Edited by Charles Mackay + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: The Cavalier Songs and Ballads of England + from 1642 to 1684 + + +Author: Various + +Editor: Charles Mackay + +Release Date: February 22, 2015 [eBook #1030] +[This file was first posted on September 2, 1997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAVALIER SONGS AND BALLADS OF +ENGLAND*** + + +Transcribed from the 1863 Griffin Bohn and Co. edition by David Price, +email ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + + The + CAVALIER SONGS AND BALLADS + OF ENGLAND + + + FROM 1642 TO 1684 + + * * * * * + + EDITED BY + CHARLES MACKAY + LL.D. + + * * * * * + + LONDON + GRIFFIN BOHN AND CO + STATIONERS’ HALL COURT + 1863. + + * * * * * + + JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. + + * * * * * + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +THE Cavalier Ballads of England, like the Jacobite Ballads of England and +Scotland at a later period, are mines of wealth for the student of the +history and social manners of our ancestors. The rude but often +beautiful political lyrics of the early days of the Stuarts were far more +interesting and important to the people who heard or repeated them, than +any similar compositions can be in our time. When the printing press was +the mere vehicle of polemics for the educated minority, and when the +daily journal was neither a luxury of the poor, a necessity of the rich, +nor an appreciable power in the formation and guidance of public opinion, +the song and the ballad appealed to the passion, if not to the intellect +of the masses, and instructed them in all the leading events of the time. +In our day the people need no information of the kind, for they procure +it from the more readily available and more copious if not more reliable, +source of the daily and weekly press. The song and ballad have ceased to +deal with public affairs. No new ones of the kind are made except as +miserable parodies and burlesques that may amuse sober costermongers and +half-drunken men about town, who frequent music saloons at midnight, but +which are offensive to every one else. Such genuine old ballads as +remain in the popular memory are either fast dying out, or relate +exclusively to the never-to-be-superseded topics of love, war, and wine. +The people of our day have little heart or appreciation for song, except +in Scotland and Ireland. England and America are too prosaic and too +busy, and the masses, notwithstanding all their supposed advantages in +education, are much too vulgar to delight in either song or ballad that +rises to the dignity of poetry. They appreciate the buffooneries of the +“Negro Minstrelsy,” and the inanities and the vapidities of sentimental +love songs, but the elegance of such writers as Thomas Moore, and the +force of such vigorous thinkers and tender lyrists as Robert Burns, are +above their sphere, and are left to scholars in their closets and ladies +in their drawing-rooms. The case was different among our ancestors in +the memorable period of the struggle for liberty that commenced in the +reign of Charles I. The Puritans had the pulpit on their side, and found +it a powerful instrument. The Cavaliers had the song writers on theirs, +and found them equally effective. And the song and ballad writers of +that day were not always illiterate versifiers. Some of them were the +choicest wits and most accomplished gentlemen of the nation. As they +could not reach the ears of their countrymen by the printed book, the +pamphlet, or the newspaper, nor mount the pulpit and dispute with +Puritanism on its own ground and in its own precincts, they found the +song, the ballad, and the epigram more available among a musical and +song-loving people such as the English then were, and trusted to these to +keep up the spirit of loyalty in the evil days of the royal cause, to +teach courage in adversity, and cheerfulness in all circumstances, and to +ridicule the hypocrites whom they could not shame, and the tyrants whom +they could not overthrow. Though many thousands of these have been +preserved in the King’s Pamphlets in the British Museum, and in other +collections which have been freely ransacked for the materials of the +following pages, as many thousands more have undoubtedly perished. +Originally printed as broadsides, and sold for a halfpenny at country +fairs, it used to be the fashion of the peasantry to paste them up in +cupboards, or on the backs of doors, and farmers’ wives, as well as +servant girls and farm labourers, who were able to read, would often +paste them on the lids of their trunks, as the best means of preserving +them. This is one reason why so many of them have been lost without +recovery. To Sir W. C. Trevelyan literature is indebted for the +restoration of a few of these waifs and strays, which he found pasted in +an old trunk of the days of Cromwell, and which he carefully detached and +presented to the British Museum. But a sufficient number of these flying +leaves of satire, sentiment, and loyalty have reached our time, to throw +a curious and instructive light upon the feelings of the men who resisted +the progress of the English Revolution; and who made loyalty to the +person of the monarch, even when the monarch was wrong, the first of the +civic virtues. In the superabundance of the materials at command, as +will be seen from the appended list of books and MSS. which have been +consulted and drawn upon to form this collection, the difficulty was to +keep within bounds, and to select only such specimens as merited a place +in a volume necessarily limited, by their celebrity, their wit, their +beauty, their historical interest, or the light they might happen to +throw on the obscure biography of the most remarkable actors in the +scenes which they describe. It would be too much to claim for these +ballads the exalted title of poetry. They are not poetical in the +highest sense of the word, and possibly would not have been so effective +for the purpose which they were intended to serve, if their writers had +been more fanciful and imaginative, or less intent upon what they had to +say than upon the manner of saying it. But if not extremely poetical, +they are extremely national, and racy of the soil; and some of them are +certain to live as long as the language which produced them. For the +convenience of reference and consultation they have been arranged +chronologically; beginning with the discontents that inaugurated the +reign of Charles I., and following regularly to the final, though +short-lived, triumph of the Cavalier cause, in the accession of James II. +After his ill-omened advent to the throne, the Cavalier became the +Jacobite. In this collection no Jacobite songs, properly so called, are +included, it being the intention of the publishers to issue a companion +volume, of the Jacobite Ballads of England, from the accession of James +II. to the battle of Culloden, should the public receive the present +volume with sufficient favour to justify the venture. + +The Editor cannot, in justice to previous fellow-labourers, omit to +record his obligation to the interesting volume, with its learned +annotations, contributed by Mr Thomas Wright to the Percy Society; or to +another and equally valuable collection, edited by Mr J. O. Halliwell. + +_December_, 1862. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + PAGE +When the King enjoys his own again 1 +,, comes home in Peace again 4 +I love my King and Country well 6 +The Commoners 8 +The Royalist 10 +The New Courtier 11 +Upon the Cavaliers departing out of London 13 +A Mad World, my Masters 14 +The Man O’ The Moon 16 +The Tub-Preacher 18 +The New Litany 20 +The Old Protestant’s Litany 23 +Vive Le Roy 27 +The Cavalier 28 +A Caveat to the Roundheads 31 +Hey, then, up go we 32 +The Clean Contrary Way, or, Colonel Venne’s Encouragement 35 +to his Soldiers +The Cameronian Cat 37 +The Royal Feast 39 +Upon His Majesty’s coming to Holmby 50 +I thank you twice 51 +The Cities Loyaltie to the King 52 +The Lawyers’ Lamentation for the Loss of Charing-Cross 55 +The Downfal of Charing-Cross 56 +The Long Parliament 58 +The Puritan 61 +The Roundhead 64 +Prattle your pleasure under the rose 65 +The Dominion of the Sword 67 +The State’s New Coin 70 +The Anarchie, or the Blest Reformation since 1640 71 +A Coffin for King Charles, a Crown For Cromwell, And A Pit 76 +For The People +A Short Litany For The Year 1649 81 +The Sale of Rebellion’s Household Stuff 82 +The Cavalier’s Farewell to his Mistress, being called to 86 +the Wars +The Last News from France 87 +Song to the Figure Two 91 +The Reformation 94 +Upon the General Pardon passed by the Rump 98 +An Old Song on Oliver’s Court 100 +The Parliament Routed, or Here’s a House to be Let 102 +A Christmas Song, when the Rump was first dissolved 107 +A Free Parliament Litany 110 +The Mock Song 114 +The Answer 116 +As close as a Goose 118 +The Prisoners 120 +The Protecting Brewer 122 +The Arraignment of the Devil for stealing away President 124 +Bradshaw +A New Ballad to an Old Tune, “Tom Of Bedlam” 130 +Saint George and the Dragon, Anglice Mercurius Poeticus 133 +The Second Part of St George for England 143 +A New-year’s Gift for the Rump 147 +A Proper New Ballad on the Old Parliament; or, the Second 151 +Part of Knave Out of Doors +The Tale of the Cobbler and the Vicar of Bray 166 +The Geneva Ballad 191 +The Devil’s Progress on Earth, or Huggle Duggle, etc. 194 +A Bottle Definition of that Fallen Angel, called a Whig 196 +The Desponding Whig 197 +Phanatick Zeal, or a Looking-glass for the Whigs 199 +A New Game at Cards: or, Win at First and Lose at Last 202 +The Cavaleers Litany 205 +The Cavalier’s Complaint 209 +An Echo to the Cavalier’s Complaint 211 +A Relation 213 +The Glory of these Nations 217 +The Noble Progress, or, a True Relation of the Lord General 223 +Monk’s Political Proceedings +On the King’s Return 227 +The Brave Barbary 228 +A Catch 229 +The Turn-coat 231 +The Claret-drinker’s Song, or, the Good Fellow’s Design 233 +The Loyal Subjects’ Hearty Wishes to King Charles II. 236 +King Charles the Second’s Restoration, 29th May 243 +The Jubilee, or the Coronation Day 246 +The King enjoys his own again 247 +A Country Song, intituled the Restoration 248 +Here’s a Health unto His Majesty 251 +The Whigs drowned in an Honest Tory health 251 +The Cavalier 253 +The Lamentation of a Bad Market, or the Disbanded Souldier 255 +The Courtier’s Health; or, The Merry Boys of the Times 260 +The Loyal Tories’ Delight; or A Pill for Fanaticks 262 +The Royal Admiral 265 +The Unfortunate Whigs 266 +The Downfall of the Good Old Cause 268 +Old Jemmy 271 +The Cloak’s Knavery 274 +The Time-server, or a Medley 278 +The Soldier’s Delight 280 +The Loyal Soldier 281 +The Polititian 283 +A New Droll 285 +The Royalist 287 +The Royalist’s Resolve 288 +Loyalty turned up Trump, or the Danger over 290 +The Loyalist’s Encouragement 290 +The Trouper 292 +On the Times, or The Good Subject’s Wish 293 +The Jovialists’ Coronation 294 +The Loyal Prisoner 295 +Canary’s Coronation 297 +The Mournful Subjects, or, The Whole Nation’s Lamination, 299 +from the highest to the lowest +Memento Mori 303 +Accession of James II. 305 +On the Most High and Mighty Monarch King James 307 +In a Summer’s Day 309 + + + + +LIST OF +BALLAD AND SONG BOOKS +AND +MSS. QUOTED IN THIS COLLECTION. + + +Ashmolean Collection. + +Antidote to Melancholy, 1682. + +Apollo’s Banquet, 1690. + +Additional MSS. + +Aviary, 1740–1745. + +Broadsides, in the reign of Charles II. + +„ „ „ _Roxburghe ballads_. + +Butler’s, Samuel, Posthumous Works, 1732. + +Burney’s, Dr, Collection of Songs. + +Ballads, six, of the time of Charles II., in the British Museum. + +Bagford’s Collection [qu. date]. + +Brome’s, Alex., Songs [qu. date]. + +Banquet of Music, 1689. + +Bull’s, Dr, Collection of Songs [qu. date]. + +* Collection of State Songs that have been published since the Rebellion, +and sung at the several Mug-houses in the Cities of London and +Westminster, 1716. + +* Collection of Loyal Songs, 1750 [Jacobites]. + +Complete Collection of Old and New English and Scotch Songs, 1735. + +Craig’s Collection, 1730. + +Convivial Songster, 1782. + +Crown Garlands of Golden Roses. + +Carey’s, Henry, Musical Centus, 1740. + +* D’Urfey’s Songs (4 volumes,) or Pills to Purge Melancholy. + +Douce’s Collection, Oxford. + +Delightful Companion for the Recorder, 1686. + +Dixon’s Ballads of the Peasants of England. + +English Political Songs and Ballads of the 17th and 18th Centuries, by +Walker Wilkins. + +Evans’ Old Ballads, 1810. + +England under the House of Hanover, by Thos. Wright. + +Folly in Print, or a Book of Rhymes, 1667. + +Golden Garlands of Princely delights, 1620. + +Harleian MSS. + +Halifax’s Songs, 1694. + +Halliwell’s Collection of Ballads, “Cheetham Library.” + +Hogg’s Jacobite Relics of Scotland. + +Jordan’s, Thomas, London Triumphant, 1672. + +King’s Library. + +„ Pamphlets—Collection of Political Songs, from 1640 to the Restoration +of Charles II. + +Kitchener, Dr, Loyal and National Songs. + +Loyal Songs, 120, 1684, by N. Thompson. + +,, 180, 1685 to 1694. + +Loyal Songs, 1731. + +* Loyal Songs written against the Rump Parliament, between 1639 and 1661. + +Loyal Garland, containing choice Songs, &c., of our late Revolution, +1761, and 5th Edition, 1686, Percy Society. + +Merry Drollery, complete, 1670. + +Muses’ Merriment, 1656. _See_ “Sportive Wit.” + +Musical MSS., British Museum. + +Musical Miscellany, Watts. + +Muse’s Delight, 1757, or “Apollo’s Cabinet.” + +Old Ballads, 1723, British Museum. + +Playford’s Music and Mirth—“Douce’s Collection.” + +„ Choice Songs, &c. + +Playford’s Theatre of Music, 1685. + +,, Pleasant Music Companion. + +,, Catch that Catch can. + +„ Antidote against Melancholy, 1669. + +Political Merriment. + +* Pills to Purge Melancholy, 1661. + +Parker’s, Martin, Ballads, Roxburghe Collection. + +Political Ballads, Percy Society, Wright’s Collection. + +Pepys’ Collection, British Museum. + +Rats rhymed to Death, 1660; King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. + +* Roxburghe Ballads, 3 vols. + +Rump Collection of Songs, 1639 to 1661. _See_ Loyal Songs. + +Ritson’s Ancient Songs, 1790. + +,, English ,, + +Ramsay, Allan, Tea-table Miscellany, 1724. + +Rome rhymed to Death [qu. date]. + +Sportive Wit; the Muse’s Merriment [qu. date]. + +Skene MSS. + +Suckling’s, Sir John, Works [qu. date]. + +Second Tale of a Tub, 1715. + +Satirical Songs on Costume. + +True Loyalist, or Chevalier’s Favourite, 1779. + +Triumph of Wit, or Ingenuity Displayed. + +Taubman’s, Mat., Heroic and Choice Songs on the Times, 1682. + +Westminster Drollery, 1671. + +* Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Purge Melancholy. + +Wit restored, 1658. + +Wit’s Recreation, 1654 + +Williams’, Sir Charles Hanbury, Political Songs. + +Wood’s, Anthony, Collection at Oxford [Ashmolean]. + +Withers, George, Songs. + +Wade’s, John, Ballads [qu. date]. + + + + +CAVALIER SONGS AND BALLADS. + + +WHEN THE KING ENJOYS HIS OWN AGAIN. + + +This is perhaps the most popular of all the Cavalier songs—a favour which +it partly owes to the excellent melody with which it is associated. The +song, says Mr Chappell, is ascertained to be by Martin Parker, by the +following extract from the _Gossips’ Feast_, or Moral Tales, 1647. “By +my faith, Martin Parker never got a fairer treat: no, not when he indited +that sweet ballad, When the King enjoys his own again.” In the poet’s +Blind Man’s Bough (or Buff), 1641, Martin Parker says, + + “Whatever yet was published by me + Was known as Martin Parker, or M. P.;” + +but this song was printed without his name or initials, at a time when it +would have been dangerous to give either his own name or that of his +publisher. Ritson calls it the most famous song of any time or country. +Invented to support the declining interest of Charles I., it served +afterwards with more success to keep up the spirits of the Cavaliers, and +promote the restoration of his son; an event which it was employed to +celebrate all over the kingdom. At the Revolution of 1688, it of course +became an adherent of the exiled King, whose cause it never deserted. It +did equal service in 1715 and 1745. The tune appears to have been +originally known as _Marry me_, _marry me_, _quoth he_, _bonnie lass_. +Booker, Pond, Hammond, Rivers, Swallow, Dade, and “The Man in the Moon,” +were all astrologers and Almanac makers in the early days of the civil +war. “The Man in the Moon” appears to have been a loyalist in his +predictions. Hammond’s Almanac is called “bloody” because the compiler +always took care to note the anniversary of the death, execution, or +downfall of a Royalist. + + WHAT _Booker_ doth prognosticate + Concerning kings’ or kingdoms’ fate? + I think myself to be as wise + As he that gazeth on the skies; + My skill goes beyond the depth of a _Pond_, + Or _Rivers_ in the greatest rain, + Thereby I can tell all things will be well + When the King enjoys his own again. + + There’s neither _Swallow_, _Dove_, nor _Dade_, + Can soar more high, or deeper wade, + Nor show a reason from the stars + What causeth peace or civil wars; + The Man in the Moon may wear out his shoon + By running after Charles his wain: + But all’s to no end, for the times will not mend + Till the King enjoys his own again. + + Though for a time we see Whitehall + With cobwebs hanging on the wall + Instead of silk and silver brave, + Which formerly it used to have, + With rich perfume in every room,— + Delightful to that princely train, + Which again you shall see, when the time it shall be, + That the King enjoys his own again. + + Full forty years the royal crown + Hath been his father’s and his own; + And is there any one but he + That in the same should sharer be? + For who better may the sceptre sway + Than he that hath such right to reign? + Then let’s hope for a peace, for the wars will not cease + Till the King enjoys his own again. + + [Did _Walker_ no predictions lack + In Hammond’s bloody almanack? + Foretelling things that would ensue, + That all proves right, if lies be true; + But why should not he the pillory foresee, + Wherein poor Toby once was ta’en? + And also foreknow to the gallows he must go + When the King enjoys his own again?] {1} + + Till then upon Ararat’s hill + My hope shall cast her anchor still, + Until I see some peaceful dove + Bring home the branch I dearly love; + Then will I wait till the waters abate + Which now disturb my troubled brain, + Else never rejoice till I hear the voice + That the King enjoys his own again. + + + +WHEN THE KING COMES HOME IN PEACE AGAIN. + + +From a broadside in the Roxburghe Collection of Ballads. It appears to +have been written shortly after Martin Parker’s original ballad obtained +popularity among the Royalists, and to be by another hand. It bears +neither date nor printer’s name; and has “God save the King, Amen,” in +large letters at the end. + + OXFORD and Cambridge shall agree, + With honour crown’d, and dignity; + For learned men shall then take place, + And bad be silenced with disgrace: + They’ll know it to be but a casualty + That hath so long disturb’d their brain; + For I can surely tell that all things will go well + When the King comes home in peace again. + + Church government shall settled be, + And then I hope we shall agree + Without their help, whose high-brain’d zeal + Hath long disturb’d the common weal; + Greed out of date, and cobblers that do prate + Of wars that still disturb their brain; + The which you will see, when the time it shall be + That the King comes home in peace again. + + Though many now are much in debt, + And many shops are to be let, + A golden time is drawing near, + Men shops shall take to hold their ware; + And then all our trade shall flourishing be made, + To which ere long we shall attain; + For still I can tell all things will be well + When the King comes home in peace again. + + Maidens shall enjoy their mates, + And honest men their lost estates; + Women shall have what they do lack, + Their husbands, who are coming back. + When the wars have an end, then I and my friend + All subjects’ freedom shall obtain; + By which I can tell all things will be well + When we enjoy sweet peace again. + + Though people now walk in great fear + Along the country everywhere, + Thieves shall then tremble at the law, + And justice shall keep them in awe: + The Frenchies shall flee with their treacherie, + And the foes of the King ashamed remain: + The which you shall see when the time it shall be + That the King comes home in peace again. + + The Parliament must willing be + That all the world may plainly see + How they do labour still for peace, + That now these bloody wars may cease; + For they will gladly spend their lives to defend + The King in all his right to reign: + So then I can tell all things will be well + When we enjoy sweet peace again. + + When all these things to pass shall come + Then farewell Musket, Pick, and Drum, + The Lamb shall with the Lion feed, + Which were a happy time indeed. + O let us pray we may all see the day + That peace may govern in his name, + For then I can tell all things will be well + When the King comes home in peace again. + + + +I LOVE MY KING AND COUNTRY WELL. + + +From Songs and other Poems by Alex. Brome, Gent. Published London 1664; +written 1645. + + I LOVE my King and country well, + Religion and the laws; + Which I’m mad at the heart that e’er we did sell + To buy the good old cause. + These unnatural wars + And brotherly jars + Are no delight or joy to me; + But it is my desire + That the wars should expire, + And the King and his realms agree. + + I never yet did take up arms, + And yet I dare to dye; + But I’ll not be seduced by phanatical charms + Till I know a reason why. + Why the King and the state + Should fall to debate + I ne’er could yet a reason see, + But I find many one + Why the wars should be done, + And the King and his realms agree. + + I love the King and the Parliament, + But I love them both together: + And when they by division asunder are rent, + I know ’tis good for neither. + Whichsoe’er of those + Be victorious, + I’m sure for us no good ’twill be, + For our plagues will increase + Unless we have peace, + And the King and his realms agree. + + The King without them can’t long stand, + Nor they without the King; + ’Tis they must advise, and ’tis he must command, + For their power from his must spring. + ’Tis a comfortless sway + When none will obey; + If the King han’t his right, which way shall we? + They may vote and make laws, + But no good they will cause + Till the King and his realm agree. + + A pure religion I would have, + Not mixt with human wit; + And I cannot endure that each ignorant knave + Should dare to meddle with it. + The tricks of the law + I would fain withdraw, + That it may be alike to each degree: + And I fain would have such + As do meddle so much, + With the King and the church agree. + + We have pray’d and pray’d that the wars might cease, + And we be free men made; + I would fight, if my fighting would bring any peace, + But war is become a trade. + Our servants did ride + With swords by their side, + And made their masters footmen be; + But we’ll be no more slaves + To the beggars and knaves + Now the King and the realms do agree. + + + +THE COMMONERS. + + + Written in 1645 to the Club-men, by Alex. Brome. + + COME your ways, + Bonny boys + Of the town, + For now is your time or never: + Shall your fears + Or your cares + Cast you down? + Hang your wealth + And your health, + Get renown. + We are all undone for ever, + Now the King and the crown + Are tumbling down, + And the realm doth groan with disasters; + And the scum of the land + Are the men that command, + And our slaves are become our masters. + + Now our lives, + Children, wives, + And estate, + Are a prey to the lust and plunder, + To the rage + Of our age; + And the fate + Of our land + Is at hand; + ’Tis too late + To tread these usurpers under. + First down goes the crown, + Then follows the gown, + Thus levell’d are we by the Roundhead; + While Church and State must + Feed their pride and their lust, + And the kingdom and king be confounded. + + Shall we still + Suffer ill + And be dumb, + And let every varlet undo us? + Shall we doubt + Of each lout + That doth come, + With a voice + Like the noise + Of a drum, + And a sword or a buff-coat, to us? + Shall we lose our estates + By plunder and rates, + To bedeck those proud upstarts that swagger? + Rather fight for your meat + Which those locusts do eat, + Now every man’s a beggar. + + + +THE ROYALIST. + + + By Alex. Brome. Written 1646. + + COME pass about the bowl to me, + A health to our distressed King; + Though we’re in hold let cups go free, + Birds in a cage may freely sing. + The ground does tipple healths afar + When storms do fall, and shall not we? + A sorrow dares not show its face + When we are ships, and sack’s the sea. + + Pox on this grief, hang wealth, let’s sing; + Shall’s kill ourselves for fear of death? + We’ll live by th’ air which songs do bring, + Our sighing does but waste our breath. + Then let us not be discontent, + Nor drink a glass the less of wine; + In vain they’ll think their plagues are spent + When once they see we don’t repine. + + We do not suffer here alone, + Though we are beggar’d, so’s the King; + ’Tis sin t’ have wealth when he has none, + Tush! poverty’s a royal thing! + When we are larded well with drink, + Our head shall turn as round as theirs, + Our feet shall rise, our bodies sink + Clean down the wind like Cavaliers. + + Fill this unnatural quart with sack, + Nature all vacuums doth decline; + Ourselves will be a zodiac, + And every mouth shall be a sign. + Methinks the travels of the glass + Are circular, like Plato’s year; + Where everything is as it was + Let’s tipple round: and so ’tis here. + + + +THE NEW COURTIER. + + + By Alex. Brome. 1648. + + SINCE it must be so + Then so let it go, + Let the giddy-brain’d times turn round; + Since we have no king let the goblet be crown’d, + Our monarchy thus will recover: + While the pottles are weeping + We’ll drench our sad souls + In big-bellied bowls; + Our sorrows in sack shall lie steeping, + And we’ll drink till our eyes do run over; + And prove it by reason + That it can be no treason + To drink and to sing + A mournival of healths to our new-crown’d King. + + Let us all stand bare;— + In the presence we are, + Let our noses like bonfires shine; + Instead of the conduits, let the pottles run wine, + To perfect this new coronation; + And we that are loyal + In drink shall be peers, + While that face that wears + Pure claret, looks like the blood-royal, + And outstares the bones of the nation: + In sign of obedience, + Our oath of allegiance + Beer-glasses shall be, + And he that tipples ten is of the nobility. + + But if in this reign + The halberted train + Or the constable should rebel, + And should make their turbill’d militia to swell, + And against the King’s party raise arms; + Then the drawers, like yeomen + Of the guards, with quart pots + Shall fuddle the sots, + While we make ’em both cuckolds and freemen; + And on their wives beat up alarums. + Thus as each health passes + We’ll triple the glasses, + And hold it no sin + To be loyal and drink in defence of our King. + + + +UPON THE CAVALIERS DEPARTING OUT OF LONDON. + + + By Alex. Brome. + + NOW fare thee well, London, + Thou next must be undone, + ’Cause thou hast undone us before; + This cause and this tyrant + Had never play’d this high rant + Were’t not for thy _argent d’or_. + + Now we must desert thee, + With the lines that begirt thee, + And the red-coated saints domineer; + Who with liberty fool thee, + While a monster doth rule thee, + And thou feel’st what before thou didst fear. + + Now justice and freedom, + With the laws that did breed ’em, + Are sent to Jamaica for gold, + And those that upheld ’em + Have power but seldom, + For justice is barter’d and sold. + + Now the Christian religion + Must seek a new region, + And the old saints give way to the new; + And we that are loyal + Vail to those that destroy all, + When the Christian gives place to the Jew. + + But this is our glory, + In this wretched story + Calamities fall on the best; + And those that destroy us + Do better employ us, + To sing till they are supprest. + + + +A MAD WORLD, MY MASTERS. + + + From the King’s pamphlets, British Museum. + + WE have a King, and yet no King, + For he hath lost his power; + For ’gainst his will his subjects are + Imprison’d in the Tower. + + We had some laws (but now no laws) + By which he held his crown; + And we had estates and liberties, + But now they’re voted down. + + We had religion, but of late + That’s beaten down with clubs; + Whilst that profaneness authorized + Is belched forth in tubs. + + We were free subjects born, but now + We are by force made slaves, + By some whom we did count our friends, + But in the end proved knaves. + + And now to such a grievous height + Are our misfortunes grown, + That our estates are took away + By tricks before ne’er known. + + For there are agents sent abroad + Most humbly for to crave + Our alms; but if they are denied, + And of us nothing have, + + Then by a vote _ex tempore_ + We are to prison sent, + Mark’d with the name of enemy, + To King and Parliament: + + And during our imprisonment, + Their lawless bulls do plunder + A license to their soldiers, + Our houses for to plunder. + + And if their hounds do chance to smell + A man whose fortunes are + Of some account, whose purse is full, + Which now is somewhat rare; + + A _monster_ now, _delinquent_ term’d, + He is declared to be, + And that his lands, as well as goods, + Sequester’d ought to be. + + As if our prisons were too good, + He is to Yarmouth sent, + By virtue of a warrant from + The King and Parliament. + + Thus in our royal sovereign’s name, + And eke his power infused, + And by the virtue of the same, + He and all his abused. + + For by this means his castles now + Are in the power of those + Who treach’rously, with might and main, + Do strive him to depose. + + Arise, therefore, brave British men, + Fight for your King and State, + Against those trait’rous men that strive + This realm to ruinate. + + ’Tis Pym, ’tis Pym and his colleagues, + That did our woe engender; + Nought but their lives can end our woes, + And us in safety render. + + + +THE MAN O’ THE MOON. + + +Hogg, in his second series of Jacobite Relics, states that he “got this +song among some old papers belonging to Mr Orr of Alloa,” and that he +never met with it elsewhere. In his first series he printed a Scottish +song beginning,— + + “Then was a man came fron the moon + And landed in our town, sir, + And he has sworn a solemn oath + That all but knaves must down, sir.” + +In Martin Parker’s foregoing ballad, “When the King enjoys his own +again,” there is also an allusion to the man in the moon:— + + “The Man in the Moon + May wear out his shoon + By running after Charles his wain;” + +as it would appear that the “Man in the Moon,” was the title assumed by +an almanack-maker of the time of the Commonwealth, who, like other +astronomers and astrologers, predicted the King’s restoration. In this +song the “Man o’ the Moon” clearly signifies King Charles. + + The man o’ the moon for ever! + The man o’ the moon for ever! + We’ll drink to him still + In a merry cup of ale,— + Here’s the man o’ the moon for ever! + + The man o’ the moon, here’s to him! + How few there be that know him! + But we’ll drink to him still + In a merry cup of ale,— + The man o’ the moon, here’s to him! + + Brave man o’ the moon, we hail thee, + The true heart ne’er shall fail thee; + For the day that’s gone + And the day that’s our own— + Brave man o’ the moon, we hail thee. + + We have seen the bear bestride thee, + And the clouds of winter hide thee, + But the moon is changed + And here we are ranged,— + Brave man o’ the moon, we bide thee. + + The man o’ the moon for ever! + The man o’ the moon for ever! + We’ll drink to him still + In a merry cup of ale,— + Here’s the man o’ the moon for ever! + + We have grieved the land should shun thee, + And have never ceased to mourn thee, + But for all our grief + There was no relief,— + Now, man o’ the moon, return thee. + + There’s Orion with his golden belt, + And Mars, that burning mover, + But of all the lights + That rule the nights, + The man o’ the moon for ever! + + + +THE TUB-PREACHER. + + + By Samuel Butler (Author of Hudibras). + To the tune of “The Old Courtier of the Queen’s.” + + WITH face and fashion to be known, + With eyes all white, and many a groan, + With neck awry and snivelling tone, + And handkerchief from nose new-blown, + And loving cant to sister Joan; + ’Tis a new teacher about the town, + Oh! the town’s new teacher! + + With cozening laugh, and hollow cheek, + To get new gatherings every week, + With paltry sense as man can speak, + With some small Hebrew, and no Greek, + With hums and haws when stuff’s to seek; + ’Tis a new teacher, etc. + + With hair cut shorter than the brow, + With little band, as you know how, + With cloak like Paul, no coat I trow, + With surplice none, nor girdle now, + With hands to thump, nor knees to bow; + ’Tis a new teacher, etc. + + With shop-board breeding and intrusion, + By some outlandish institution, + With Calvin’s method and conclusion, + To bring all things into confusion, + And far-stretched sighs for mere illusion; + ’Tis a new teacher, etc. + + With threats of absolute damnation, + But certainty of some salvation + To his new sect, not every nation, + With election and reprobation, + And with some use of consolation; + ’Tis a new teacher, etc. + + With troops expecting him at door + To hear a sermon and no more, + And women follow him good store, + And with great Bibles to turn o’er, + Whilst Tom writes notes, as bar-boys score, + ’Tis a new teacher, etc. + + With double cap to put his head in, + That looks like a black pot tipp’d with tin; + While with antic gestures he doth gape and grin; + The sisters admire, and he wheedles them in, + Who to cheat their husbands think no sin; + ’Tis a new teacher, etc. + + With great pretended spiritual motions, + And many fine whimsical notions, + With blind zeal and large devotions, + With broaching rebellion and raising commotions, + And poisoning the people with Geneva potions; + ’Tis a new teacher, etc. + + + +THE NEW LITANY. + + +From the King’s pamphlets, British Museum. Satires in the form of a +litany were common from 1646 to 1746, and even later. + + FROM an extempore prayer and a godly ditty, + From the churlish government of a city, + From the power of a country committee, + Libera nos, Domine. + + From the Turk, the Pope, and the Scottish nation, + From being govern’d by proclamation, + And from an old Protestant, quite out of fashion, + Libera, etc. + + From meddling with those that are out of our reaches, + From a fighting priest, and a soldier that preaches, + From an ignoramus that writes, and a woman that teaches, + Libera, etc. + + From the doctrine of deposing of a king, + From the _Directory_, {2} or any such thing, + From a fine new marriage without a ring, + Libera, etc. + + From a city that yields at the first summons, + From plundering goods, either man or woman’s, + Or having to do with the House of Commons, + Libera, etc. + + From a stumbling horse that tumbles o’er and o’er, + From ushering a lady, or walking before, + From an English-Irish rebel, newly come o’er, {3} + Libera, etc. + + From compounding, or hanging in a silken altar, + From oaths and covenants, and being pounded in a mortar, + From contributions, or free-quarter, + Libera, etc. + + From mouldy bread, and musty beer, + From a holiday’s fast, and a Friday’s cheer, + From a brother-hood, and a she-cavalier, + Libera, etc. + + From Nick Neuter, for you, and for you, + From Thomas Turn-coat, that will never prove true, + From a reverend Rabbi that’s worse than a Jew, + Libera, etc. + + From a country justice that still looks big, + From swallowing up the Italian fig, + Or learning of the Scottish jig, + Libera, etc. + + From being taken in a disguise, + From believing of the printed lies, + From the Devil and from the Excise, {4} + Libera, etc. + + From a broken pate with a pint pot, + For fighting for I know not what, + And from a friend as false as a Scot, + Libera, etc. + + From one that speaks no sense, yet talks all that he can, + From an old woman and a Parliament man, + From an Anabaptist and a Presbyter man, + Libera, etc. + + From Irish rebels and Welsh hubbub-men, + From Independents and their tub-men, + From sheriffs’ bailiffs, and their club-men, + Libera, etc. + + From one that cares not what he saith, + From trusting one that never payeth, + From a private preacher and a public faith, + Libera, etc. + + From a vapouring horse and a Roundhead in buff, + From roaring Jack Cavee, with money little enough, + From beads and such idolatrous stuff, + Libera, etc. + + From holydays, and all that’s holy, + From May-poles and fiddlers, and all that’s jolly + From Latin or learning, since that is folly, + Libera, etc. + + And now to make an end of all, + I wish the Roundheads had a fall, + Or else were hanged in Goldsmith’s Hall. + Amen. + + Benedicat Dominus. + + + +THE OLD PROTESTANT’S LITANY. + + + Against all sectaries + And their defendants, + Both Presbyterians + And Independents. + +Mr Walter Wilkins, in his Political Ballads of the Seventeenth and +Eighteenth Centuries, says, the imprint of this broadside intimates that +it was published in “the year of Hope, 1647,” and Thomson, the collector, +added the precise date, the 7th of September. + + THAT thou wilt be pleased to grant our requests, + And quite destroy all the vipers’ nests, + That England and her true religion molests, + Te rogamus audi nos. + + That thou wilt be pleased to censure with pity + The present estate of our once famous city; + Let her still be govern’d by men just and witty, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That thou wilt be pleased to consider the Tower, + And all other prisons in the Parliament’s power, + Where King Charles his friends find their welcome but sour, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That thou wilt be pleased to look on the grief + Of the King’s old servants, and send them relief, + Restore to the yeomen o’ th’ Guard chines of beef, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That thou wilt be pleased very quickly to bring + Unto his just rights our so much-wrong’d King, + That he may be happy in everything, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That Whitehall may shine in its pristine lustre, + That the Parliament may make a general muster, + That knaves may be punish’d by men who are juster, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That now the dog-days are fully expired, + That those cursed curs, which our patience have tired, + May suffer what is by true justice required, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That thou wilt be pleased to incline conquering Thomas + (Who now hath both city and Tower gotten from us), + That he may be just in performing his promise, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That our hopeful Prince and our gracious Queen + (Whom we here in England long time have not seen) + May soon be restored to what they have been, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That the rest of the royal issue may be + From their Parliamentary guardians set free, + And be kept according to their high degree, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That our ancient Liturgy may be restored, + That the organs (by sectaries so much abhorr’d) + May sound divine praises, according to the word, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That the ring in marriage, the cross at the font, + Which the devil and the Roundheads so much affront, + May be used again, as before they were wont, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That Episcopacy, used in its right kind, + In England once more entertainment may find, + That Scots and lewd factions may go down the wind, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That thou wilt be pleased again to restore + All things in due order, as they were before, + That the Church and the State may be vex’d no more, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That all the King’s friends may enjoy their estates, + And not be kept, as they have been, at low rates, + That the poor may find comfort again at their gates, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That thou wilt all our oppressions remove, + And grant us firm faith and hope, join’d with true love, + Convert or confound all which virtue reprove, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That all peevish sects that would live uncontroll’d, + And will not be govern’d, as all subjects should, + To New England may pack, or live quiet i’ th’ Old, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That gracious King Charles, with his children and wife, + Who long time have suffer’d through this civil strife, + May end with high honour their natural life, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That they who have seized on honest men’s treasure, + Only for their loyalty to God and to Cæsar, + May in time convenient find measure for measure, + Te rogamus, etc. + + That thou all these blessings upon us wilt send, + We are no _Independents_, on Thee we depend, + And as we believe, from all harm us defend; + Te rogamus, etc. + + + +VIVE LE ROY. + + +From a collection of songs, 1640 to 1660. It is also to be found in the +additional MSS., No. 11, 608, p. 54, in the collection in the British +Museum. It was sung to the air of Love lies bleeding,—and was, says Mr +Chappell, “the God save the King” of Charles I., Charles II., and James +II. + + WHAT though the zealots pull down the prelates, + Push at the pulpit, and kick at the crown, + Shall we not never once more endeavour, + Strive to purchase our royall renown? + Shall not the Roundhead first be confounded? + Sa, sa, sa, say, boys, ha, ha, ha, ha, boys, + Then we’ll return with triumph and joy. + Then we’ll be merry, drink white wine and sherry, + Then we will sing, boys, God bless the King, boys, + Cast up our caps, and cry, _Vive le Roy_. + + What though the wise make Alderman Isaac + Put us in prison and steal our estates, + Though we be forced to be unhorsed, + And walk on foot as it pleaseth the fates; + In the King’s army no man shall harm ye. + Then come along, boys, valiant and strong, boys, + Fight for your goods, which the Roundheads enjoy; + And when you venture London to enter, + And when you come, boys, with fife and drum, boys, + Isaac himself shall cry, _Vive le Roy_. + + If you will choose them, do not refuse them, + Since honest Parliament never made thieves, + Charles will not further have rogues dipt in murder, + Neither by leases, long lives, nor reprieves. + ’Tis the conditions and propositions + Will not be granted, then be not daunted, + We will our honest old customs enjoy; + Paul’s not rejected, will be respected, + And in the quier voices rise higher, + Thanks to the heavens, and (cry), _Vive le Roy_. + + + +THE CAVALIER. + + +By Samuel Butler. From his Posthumous Works. A somewhat different +version appears in Chappell’s Popular Music of the Olden Time. + + HE that is a clear + Cavalier + Will not repine, + Although + His pocket grow + So very low + He cannot get wine. + + Fortune is a lass + Will embrace, + But soon destroy; + Born free, + In liberty + We’ll always be, + Singing _Vive le Roy_. + + Virtue is its own reward, + And Fortune is a whore; + There’s none but knaves and fools regard her, + Or her power implore. + But he that is a trusty _Roger_, + And will serve the King; + Altho’ he be a tatter’d soldier, + Yet may skip and sing: + Whilst we that fight for love, + May in the way of honour prove + That they who make sport of us + May come short of us; + Fate will flatter them, + And will scatter them; + Whilst our loyalty + Looks upon royalty, + We that live peacefully, + May be successfully + Crown’d with a crown at last. + + Tho’ a real honest man + May be quite undone, + He’ll show his allegiance, + Love, and obedience; + Those will raise him up, + Honour stays him up, + Virtue keeps him up, + And we praise him up. + Whilst the vain courtiers dine, + With their bottles full of wine, + Honour will make him fast. + Freely then + Let’s be honest men + And kick at fate, + For we may live to see + Our loyalty + Valued at a higher rate. + He that bears a sword + Or a word against the throne, + And does profanely prate + To abuse the state, + Hath no kindness for his own. + + What tho’ painted plumes and prayers + Are the prosp’rous men, + Yet we’ll attend our own affairs + ’Till they come to ’t agen; + Treachery may be faced with light, + And letchery lined with furr; + A cuckold may be made a knight, + Sing _Fortune de la Guerre_. + But what’s that to us, brave boys, + That are right honest men? + We’ll conquer and come again, + Beat up the drum again; + Hey for _Cavaliers_, + Hoe for _Cavaliers_, + Drink for _Cavaliers_, + Fight for _Cavaliers_, + Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, + Have at Old _Beelzebub_, + _Oliver_ stinks for fear. + + _Fifth Monarchy-men_ must down, boys, + With bulleys of every sect in town, boys; + We’ll rally and to ’t again, + Give ’em the rout again; + Fly like light about, + Face to the right-about, + Charge them home again + When they come on again; + _Sing Tantara rara_, _boys_, + _Tantara rara_, _boys_, + This is the life of an Old Cavalier. + + + +A CAVEAT TO THE ROUNDHEADS. + + + From the Posthumous Works of Samuel Butler. + + I COME to charge ye + That fight the clergy, + And pull the mitre from the prelate’s head, + That you will be wary + Lest you miscarry + In all those factious humours you have bred; + But as for _Brownists_ we’ll have none, + But take them all and hang them one by one. + + Your wicked actions + Join’d in factions + Are all but aims to rob the King of his due; + Then give this reason + For your treason, + That you’ll be ruled, if he’ll be ruled by you. + Then leave these factions, zealous brother, + Lest you be hanged one against another. + + + +HEY, THEN, UP GO WE. + + +This song, says Mr Chappell, in his Popular Music of the Olden Time, +which describes with some humour the taste of the Puritans, might pass +for a Puritan song, if it were not contained in the “Shepherds’ Oracles,” +by Francis Quarles, 1646. He was cup-bearer to Elizabeth, Queen of +Bohemia, daughter of James I., and afterwards chronologer to the city of +London. He died in 1644, and his Shepherds’ Oracles were a posthumous +publication. It was often reprinted during the Restoration, and +reproduced and slightly altered by Thomas Durfey, in his “Pills to Purge +Melancholy,” where the burthen is, “Hey, boys, up go we.” + + KNOW this, my brethren, heaven is clear, + And all the clouds are gone; + The righteous man shall flourish now, + Good days are coming on. + Then come, my brethren, and be glad, + And eke rejoyce with me; + Lawn sleeves and rochets shall go down, + And hey, then, up go we. + + We’ll break the windows which the whore + Of Babylon hath painted, + And when the popish saints are down + Then Barrow shall be sainted; + There’s neither cross nor crucifix + Shall stand for men to see, + Rome’s trash and trumpery shall go down, + And hey, then, up go we. + + Whate’er the Popish hands have built + Our hammers shall undo; + We’ll break their pipes and burn their copes, + And pull down churches too; + We’ll exercise within the groves, + And teach beneath a tree; + We’ll make a pulpit of a cask, + And hey, then, up go we. + + We’ll put down Universities, + Where learning is profest, + Because they practise and maintain + The language of the Beast; + We’ll drive the doctors out of doors, + And all that learned be; + We’ll cry all arts and learning down, + And hey, then, up go we. + + We’ll down with deans and prebends, too, + And I rejoyce to tell ye + We then shall get our fill of pig, + And capons for the belly. + We’ll burn the Fathers’ weighty tomes, + And make the School-men flee; + We’ll down with all that smells of wit, + And hey, then, up go we. + + If once the Antichristian crew + Be crush’d and overthrown, + We’ll teach the nobles how to stoop, + And keep the gentry down: + Good manners have an ill report, + And turn to pride, we see, + We’ll therefore put good manners down, + And hey, then, up go we. + + The name of lords shall be abhorr’d, + For every man’s a brother; + No reason why in Church and State + One man should rule another; + But when the change of government + Shall set our fingers free, + We’ll make these wanton sisters stoop, + And hey, then, up go we. + + What though the King and Parliament + Do not accord together, + We have more cause to be content, + This is our sunshine weather: + For if that reason should take place, + And they should once agree, + Who would be in a Roundhead’s case, + For hey, then, up go we. + + What should we do, then, in this case? + Let’s put it to a venture; + If that we hold out seven years’ space + We’ll sue out our indenture. + A time may come to make us rue, + And time may set us free, + Except the gallows claim his due, + And hey, then, up go we. + + + +THE CLEAN CONTRARY WAY, +OR, +COLONEL VENNE’S ENCOURAGEMENT TO HIS SOLDIERS. + + + To the air of “Hey, then, up go we.” + From a Collection of Loyal Songs written against the Rump Parliament. + + FIGHT on, brave soldiers, for the cause, + Fear not the Cavaliers; + Their threat’nings are as senseless as + Our jealousies and fears. + Tis you must perfect this great work, + And all malignants slay; + You must bring back the King again + The clean contrary way. + + ’Tis for religion that you fight, + And for the kingdom’s good; + By robbing churches, plundering them, + And shedding guiltless blood. + Down with the orthodoxal train, + All loyal subjects slay; + When these are gone, we shall be blest + The clean contrary way. + + When _Charles_ we have made bankrupt, + Of power and crown bereft him, + And all his loyal subjects slain, + And none but rebels left him; + When we have beggar’d all the land, + And sent our trunks away, + We’ll make him then a glorious prince + The clean contrary way. + + ’Tis to preserve his Majesty + That we against him fight, + Nor ever are we beaten back, + Because our cause is right: + If any make a scruple at + Our Declarations, say,— + Who fight for us, fight for the King + The clean contrary way. + + At _Keinton_, _Brainsford_, _Plymouth_, _York_, + And divers places more, + What victories we saints obtain, + The like ne’er seen before: + How often we Prince _Rupert_ kill’d, + And bravely won the day, + The wicked Cavaliers did run + The clean contrary way. + + The true religion we maintain, + The kingdom’s peace and plenty; + The privilege of Parliament + Not known to one and twenty; + The ancient fundamental laws, + And teach men to obey + Their lawful sovereign, and all these + The clean contrary way. + + We subjects’ liberties preserve + By imprisonment and plunder, + And do enrich ourselves and state + By keeping th’ wicked under. + We must preserve mechanicks now + To lectorize and pray; + By them the gospel is advanced + The clean contrary way. + + And though the King be much misled + By that malignant crew, + He’ll find us honest at the last, + Give all of us our due. + For we do wisely plot, and plot + Rebellion to alloy, + He sees we stand for peace and truth + The clean contrary way. + + The publick faith shall save our souls + And our good works together; + And ships shall save our lives, that stay + Only for wind and weather: + But when our faith and works fall down + And all our hopes decay, + Our acts will bear us up to heaven + The clean contrary way. + + + +THE CAMERONIAN CAT. + + +A well-known song from Hogg’s Jacobite Relics; and popular among the +Cavaliers both of England and Scotland in the days of the Commonwealth. +It was usually sung to a psalm tune; the singers imitating the style and +manner of a precentor at a Presbyterian church. + + THERE was a Cameronian cat + Was hunting for a prey, + And in the house she catch’d a mouse + Upon the Sabbath-day. + + The Whig, being offended + At such an act profane, + Laid by his book, the cat he took, + And bound her in a chain. + + Thou damn’d, thou cursed creature, + This deed so dark with thee, + Think’st thou to bring to hell below + My holy wife and me? + + Assure thyself that for the deed + Thou blood for blood shalt pay, + For killing of the Lord’s own mouse + Upon the Sabbath-day. + + The presbyter laid by the book, + And earnestly he pray’d + That the great sin the cat had done + Might not on him be laid. + + And straight to execution + Poor pussy she was drawn, + And high hang’d up upon a tree— + The preacher sung a psalm. + + And when the work was ended, + They thought the cat near dead, + She gave a paw, and then a mew, + And stretched out her head. + + Thy name, said he, shall certainly + A beacon still remain, + A terror unto evil ones + For evermore, Amen. + + + +THE ROYAL FEAST. + + +A Loyall Song of the Royall Feast kept by the Prisoners in the Towre, +August last, with the Names, Titles, and Characters of every Prisoner. +By Sir F. W., Knight and Baronet, Prisoner. (Sept. 16th, 1647.) + +“In the negotiations between the King and the Parliament during the +summer and autumn of this year,” says Mr Thomas Wright in his Political +Ballads of the Commonwealth, published for the Percy Society, “the case +of the royalist prisoners in the Tower was frequently brought into +question. The latter seized the occasion of complaining against the +rigours (complaints apparently exaggerated) which were exerted against +them, and on the 16th June, 1647, was published ‘A True Relation of the +cruell and unparallel’d Oppression which hath been illegally imposed upon +the Gentlemen Prisoners in the Tower of London.’ The several petitions +contained in this tract have the signatures of Francis Howard, Henry +Bedingfield, Walter Blount, Giles Strangwaies, Francis Butler, Henry +Vaughan, Thomas Lunsford, Richard Gibson, Tho. Violet, John Morley, +Francis Wortley, Edw. Bishop, John Hewet, Wingfield Bodenham, Henry +Warren, W. Morton, John Slaughter, Gilbert Swinhow.” + +On the 19th of August (according to the MODERATE INTELLIGENCER of that +date) the King sent to the royal prisoners in the Tower two fat bucks for +a feast. This circumstance was the origin of the present ballad. It was +written by Sir Francis Wortley, one of the prisoners. This ballad, as we +learn by the concluding lines, was to be sung to the popular tune of +“Chevy Chace.” + + GOD save the best of kings, King Charles! + The best of queens, Queen Mary! + The ladies all, Gloster and Yorke, + Prince Charles, so like old harry! {5} + + God send the King his own again, + His towre and all his coyners! + And blesse all kings who are to reigne, + From traytors and purloyners! + The King sent us poor traytors here + (But you may guesse the reason) + Two brace of bucks to mend the cheere, + Is’t not to eat them treason? + + Let Selden search Cotton’s records, + And Rowley in the Towre, + They cannot match the president, + It is not in their power. + Old Collet would have joy’d to ’ve seen + This president recorded; + For all the papers he ere saw + Scarce such an one afforded. + The King sent us, etc. + + But that you may these traytors know, + I’ll be so bold to name them; + That if they ever traytors prove + Then this record may shame them: + But these are well-try’d loyal blades + (If England ere had any), + Search both the Houses through and through + You’ld scarcely finde so many. + The King sent us, etc. + + The first and chiefe a marquesse {6} is, + Long with the State did wrestle; + Had Ogle {7} done as much as he, + Th’ad spoyl’d Will Waller’s castle. + Ogle had wealth and title got, + So layd down his commissions; + The noble marquesse would not yield, + But scorn’d all base conditions. + The King sent us, etc. + + The next a worthy bishop {8} is, + Of schismaticks was hated; + But I the cause could never know, + Nor see the reason stated. + The cryes were loud, God knowes the cause, + They had a strange committee, + Which was a-foot well neere a yeare, + Who would have had small pitty. + The King sent us, etc. + + The next to him is a Welsh Judge, {9} + Durst tell them what was treason; + Old honest David durst be good + When it was out of season; + He durst discover all the tricks + The lawyers use, and knavery, + And show the subtile plots they use + To enthrall us into slavery. + The King sent us, etc. + + Frank Wortley {10} hath a jovial soule, + Yet never was good club-man; + He’s for the bishops and the church, + But can endure no tub-man. + He told Sir Thomas in the Towre, + Though he by him was undone, + It pleased him that he lost more men + In taking him then London. + The King sent us, etc. + + Sir Edward Hayles {11} was wond’rous rich, + No flower in Kent yields honey + In more abundance to the bee + Then they from him suck money; + Yet hee’s as chearfull as the best— + Judge Jenkins sees no reason + That honest men for wealth should be + Accused of high treason. + The King sent us, etc. + + Old Sir George Strangways {12} he came in, + Though he himself submitted, + Yet as a traytor he must be + Excepted and committed: + Yet they th’ exception now take off, + But not the sequestrations, + Hee must forsooth to Goldsmith’s-hall, + The place of desolation. + The King sent us, etc. + + Honest Sir Berr’s a reall man, + As ere was lapt in leather; + But he (God blesse us) loves the King, + And therefore was sent hither. + He durst be sheriff, and durst make + The Parliament acquainted + What he intended for to doe, + And for this was attainted. + The King sent us, etc. + + Sir Benefield, {13} Sir Walter Blunt, + Are Romishly affected, + So’s honest Frank of Howard’s race, + And slaughter is suspected. {14} + But how the devill comes this about, + That Papists are so loyall, + And those that call themselves God’s saints + Like devils do destroy all? + The King sent us, etc. + + Jack Hewet {15} will have wholesome meat, + And drink good wine, if any; + His entertainment’s free and neat, + His choyce of friends not many; + Jack is a loyall-hearted man, + Well parted and a scholar; + He’ll grumble if things please him not, + But never grows to choller. + The King sent us, etc. + + Gallant Sir Thomas, {16} bold and stout + (Brave Lunsford), children eateth; + But he takes care, where he eats one, + There he a hundred getteth; + When Harlow’s wife brings her long bills, + He wishes she were blinded; + When shee speaks loud, as loud he swears + The woman’s earthly-minded. + The King sent us, etc. + + Sir Lewis {17} hath an able pen, + Can cudgell a committee; + He makes them doe him reason, though + They others do not pitty. + Brave Cleaveland had a willing minde, + Frank Wortley was not able, + But Lewis got foure pound per weeke + For’s children and his table. + The King sent us, etc. + + Giles Strangwayes {18} has a gallant soul, + A brain infatigable; + What study he ere undertakes + To master it hee’s able: + He studies on his theoremes, + And logarithmes for number; + He loves to speake of Lewis Dives, {19} + And they are ne’er asunder. + The King sent us, etc. + + Sir John Marlow’s {20} a loyall man + (If England ere bred any), + He bang’d the pedlar back and side, + Of Scots he killed many. + Had General King {21} done what he should, + And given the blew-caps battail, + Wee’d make them all run into Tweed + By droves, like sommer cattell. + The King sent us, etc. + + Will Morton’s {22} of that Cardinal’s race, + Who made that blessed maryage; + He is most loyall to his King, + In action, word, and carryage; + His sword and pen defends the cause, + If King Charles thinke not on him, + Will is amongst the rest undone,— + The Lord have mercy on him! + The King sent us, etc. + + Tom Conisby {23} is stout and stern, + Yet of a sweet condition; + To them he loves his crime was great, + He read the King’s commission, + And required Cranborn to assist; + He charged, but should have pray’d him; + Tom was so bold he did require + All for the King should aid him. + The King sent us, etc. + + But I Win. Bodnam {24} had forgot, + Had suffer’d so much hardship; + There’s no man in the Towre had left + The King so young a wardship; + He’s firme both to the church and crowne, + The crown law and the canon; + The Houses put him to his shifts, + And his wife’s father Mammon. + The King sent us, etc. + + Sir Henry Vaughan {25} looks as grave + As any beard can make him; + Those come poore prisoners for to see + Doe for our patriarke take him. + Old Harry is a right true-blue, + As valiant as Pendraggon; + And would be loyall to his King, + Had King Charles ne’er a rag on. + The King sent us, etc. + + John Lilburne {26} is a stirring blade, + And understands the matter; + He neither will king, bishops, lords, + Nor th’ House of Commons flatter: + John loves no power prerogative, + But that derived from Sion; + As for the mitre and the crown, + Those two he looks awry on. + The King sent us, etc. + + Tom Violet {27} swears his injuries + Are scarcely to be numbred; + He was close prisoner to the State + These score dayes and nine hundred; + For Tom does set down all the dayes, + And hopes he has good debters; + ’Twould be no treason (Jenkin sayes) + To bring them peaceful letters. + The King sent us, etc. + + Poore Hudson {28} of all was the last, + For it was his disaster, + He met a turncoat swore that he + Was once King Charles his master; + So he to London soon was brought, + But came in such a season, + Their martial court was then cry’d down, + They could not try his treason. + The king sent us, etc. + + Else Hudson had gone to the pot, + Who is he can abide him? + For he was master to the King, + And (which is more) did guide him. + Had Hudson done (as Judas did), + Most loyally betray’d him, + The Houses are so noble, they + As bravely would have paid him. + The King sent us, etc. + + We’ll then conclude with hearty healths + To King Charles and Queen Mary; + To the black lad in buff (the Prince), + So like his grandsire Harry; + To York, to Glo’ster; may we not + Send Turk and Pope defiance, + Since we such gallant seconds have + To strengthen our alliance? + Wee’l drink them o’re and o’re again, + Else we’re unthankfull creatures; + Since Charles, the wise, the valiant King, + Takes us for loyall traytors. + + This if you will rhyme dogrell call, + (That you please you may name it,) + One of the loyal traytors here + Did for a ballad frame it: + Old Chevy Chace was in his minde; + If any suit it better, + All those concerned in the song + Will kindly thank the setter. + + + +UPON HIS MAJESTY’S COMING TO HOLMBY. + + +Charles I., after his surrender to the English Commissioners by the +Scotch, was conveyed to Holmby House, Northamptonshire, 16th February, +1647. + + HOLD out, brave Charles, and thou shaft win the field; + Thou canst not lose thyself, unless thou yield + On such conditions as will force thy hand + To give away thy sceptre, crown, and land. + And what is worse, to hazard by thy fall, + To lose a greater crown, more worth than all. + + Thy poor distressed Cavaliers rejoyced + To hear thy royal resolution voiced, + And are content far more poor to be + Than yet they are, so it reflects from thee. + Thou art our sovereign still, in spite of hate; + Our zeal is to thy _person_, not thy _state_. + + We are not so ambitious to desire + Our drooping fortunes to be mounted higher, + And thou so great a monarch, to our grief, + Must sue unto thy subjects for relief: + And when they sit and long debate about it, + Must either stay their time, or go without it. + + No, sacred prince, thy friends esteem thee more + In thy distresses than ere they did before; + And though their wings be clipt, their wishes fly + To heaven by millions, for a fresh supply. + That as thy cause was so betray’d by _men_, + It may by _angels_ be restored agen. + + + +I THANK YOU TWICE; + + + OR + + The city courting their own ruin, + Thank the Parliament twice for their treble undoing. + + A street ballad. From a broadside, 1647. + + THE hierarchy is out of date, + Our monarchy was sick of late, + But now ’tis grown an excellent state: + Oh, God a-mercy, Parliament! + + The teachers knew not what to say, + The ’prentices have leave to play, + The people have all forgotten to pray; + Still, God a-mercy, Parliament! + + The Roundhead and the Cavalier + Have fought it out almost seven year, + And yet, methinks, they are never the near: + Oh, God, etc. + + The gentry are sequester’d all; + Our wives you find at Goldsmith Hall, + For there they meet with the devil and all; + Still, God, etc. + + The Parliament are grown to that height + They care not a pin what his Majesty saith; + And they pay all their debts with the public faith. + Oh, God, etc. + + Though all we have here is brought to nought, + In Ireland we have whole lordships bought, + There we shall one day be rich, ’tis thought: + Still, God, etc. + + We must forsake our father and mother, + And for the State undo our own brother + And never leave murthering one another: + Oh, God, etc. + + Now the King is caught and the devil is dead; + Fairfax must be disbanded, + Or else he may chance be Hotham-ed. + Still, God, etc. + + They have made King Charles a glorious king, + He was told, long ago, of such a thing; + Now he and his subjects have reason to sing, + Oh, God, etc. + + + +THE CITIES LOYALTIE TO THE KING. + + + (Aug. 13th, 1647.) + +The city of London made several demonstrations this year to support the +Presbyterian party in the Parliament against the Independents and the +army. In the latter end of September, after the army had marched to +London, and the Parliament acted under its influence, the lord mayor and +a large part of the aldermen were committed to the Tower on the charge of +high treason; and a new mayor for the rest of the year was appointed by +the Parliament. + + To the tune of “London is a fine town and a gallant city.” + + WHY kept your train-bands such a stirre? + Why sent you them by clusters? + Then went into Saint James’s Parke? + Why took you then their musters? + Why rode my Lord up Fleet-street + With coaches at least twenty, + And fill’d they say with aldermen, + As good they had been empty? + London is a brave towne, + Yet I their cases pitty; + Their mayor and some few aldermen + Have cleane undone the city. + + The ’prentices are gallant blades, + And to the king are clifty; + But the lord mayor and aldermen + Are scarce so wise as thrifty. + I’le pay for the apprentices, + They to the King were hearty; + For they have done all that they can + To advance their soveraignes party. + London, etc. + + What’s now become of your brave Poyntz? + And of your Generall Massey? {29} + If you petition for a peace, + These gallants they will slash yee. + Where now are your reformadoes? + To Scotland gone together: + ’Twere better they were fairly trusst + Then they should bring them thither. + London, etc. + + But if your aldermen were false, + Or Glyn, that’s your recorder! {30} + Let them never betray you more, + But hang them up in order. + All these men may be coach’t as well + As any other sinner + Up Holborne, and ride forwarde still, + To Tyburne to their dinner. + London, &c. + + God send the valiant General may + Restore the King to glory! {31} + Then that name I have honour’d so + Will famous be in story; + While if he doe not, I much feare + The ruine of the nation, + And (that I should be loth to see) + His house’s desolation. + London, etc. + + + +THE LAWYERS’ LAMENTATION FOR THE LOSS OF CHARING-CROSS. + + + From a Collection of Loyal Songs, 1610 to 1660. + + UNDONE! undone! the lawyers cry, + They ramble up and down; + We know not the way to _Westminster_ + Now _Charing-Cross_ is down. + Now fare thee well, old Charing-Cross, + Then fare thee well, old stump; + It was a thing set up by a King, + And so pull’d down by the _Rump_. + + And when they came to the bottom of the Strand + They were all at a loss: + This is not the way to _Westminster_, + We must go by _Charing-Cross_. + Then fare thee well, etc. + + The Parliament did vote it down + As a thing they thought most fitting, + For fear it should fall, and so kill ’em all + In the House as they were sitting. + Then fare thee well, etc. + + Some letters about this _Cross_ were found, + Or else it might been freed; + But I dare say, and safely swear, + It could neither write nor read. + Then fare thee well, etc. + + The _Whigs_ they do affirm and say + To _Popery_ it was bent; + For what I know it might be so, + For to church it never went, + Then fare thee well, etc. + + This cursed _Rump-Rebellious Crew_, + They were so damn’d hard-hearted; + They pass’d a vote that _Charing-Cross_ + Should be taken down and carted: + Then fare thee well, etc. + + Now, _Whigs_, I would advise you all, + ’Tis what I’d have you do; + For fear the King should come again, + Pray pull down _Tyburn_ too. + Then fare thee well, etc. + + + +THE DOWNFAL OF CHARING-CROSS. + + +Charing-Cross, as it stood before the civil wars, was one of those +beautiful Gothic obelisks, erected to conjugal affection by Edward I., +who built such a one wherever the hearse of his beloved Eleanor rested in +its way from Lincolnshire to Westminster. But neither its ornamental +situation, the beauty of its structure, nor the noble design of its +erection (which did honour to humanity), could preserve it from the +merciless zeal of the times; for in 1647 it was demolished by order of +the House of Commons, as Popish and superstitious. This occasioned the +following not unhumorous sarcasm, which has been often printed among the +popular sonnets of those times. + +The plot referred to in ver. 3 was that entered into by Mr Waller the +poet, and others, with a view to reduce the city and Tower to the service +of the King; for which two of them, Nath. Tomkins and Richard Chaloner, +suffered death, July 5, 1643. Vid. Ath. Ox. 11. 24.—_Percy’s Reliques of +Ancient English Poetry_. + + UNDONE! undone! the lawyers are, + They wander about the towne, + Nor can find the way to Westminster + Now Charing-Cross is downe: + At the end of the Strand they make a stand, + Swearing they are at a loss, + And chaffing say, that’s not the way, + They must go by Charing-Cross. + + The Parliament to vote it down + Conceived it very fitting, + For fear it should fall, and kill them all + In the House as they were sitting. + They were told god-wot, it had a plot, + Which made them so hard-hearted, + To give command it should not stand, + But be taken down and carted. + + Men talk of plots, this might have been worse, + For anything I know, + Than that _Tomkins_ and _Chaloner_ + Were hang’d for long agoe. + Our Parliament did that prevent, + And wisely them defended, + For plots they will discover still + Before they were intended. + + But neither man, woman, nor child + Will say, I’m confident, + They ever heard it speak one word + Against the Parliament. + An informer swore it letters bore, + Or else it had been freed; + In troth I’ll take my Bible oath + It could neither write nor read. + + The Committee said that verify + To Popery it was bent: + For ought I know, it might be so, + For to church it never went. + What with excise, and such device, + The kingdom doth begin + To think you’ll leave them ne’er a cross + Without doors nor within. + + Methinks the Common-council should + Of it have taken pity, + ’Cause, good old cross, it always stood + So firmly to the city. + Since crosses you so much disdain, + Faith, if I were as you, + For fear the King should rule again + I’d pull down Tiburn too. + +Whitlocke says, “May 3rd, 1643, Cheapside Cross and other crosses were +voted down,” &c. When this vote was put in execution does not appear; +probably not till many mouths after Tomkins and Chaloner had suffered. + +We had a very curious account of the pulling down of Cheapside Cross +lately published in one of the Numbers of the _Gentlemen’s Magazine_, +1766.—_Percy’s Reliques_. + + + +THE LONG PARLIAMENT. + + + By John Cleveland. + + MOST gracious and omnipotent, + And everlasting Parliament, + Whose power and majesty + Are greater than all kings by odds; + And to account you less than gods + Must needs be blasphemy. + + Mosses and Aaron ne’er did do + More wonder than is wrought by you + For England’s Israel; + But though the Red Sea we have past, + If you to Canaan bring’s at last, + Is’t not a miracle—? + + In six years’ space you have done more + Than all the parliaments before; + You have quite done the work. + The King, the Cavalier, and Pope, + You have o’erthrown, and next we hope + You will confound the Turk. + + By you we have deliverance + From the design of Spain and France, + Ormond, Montrose, the Danes; + You, aided by our brethren Scots, + Defeated have malignant plots, + And brought your sword to Cain’s. + + What wholesome laws you have ordain’d, + Whereby our property’s maintain’d, + ’Gainst those would us undo; + So that our fortunes and our lives, + Nay, what is dearer, our own wives, + Are wholly kept by you. + + Oh! what a flourishing Church and State + Have we enjoy’d e’er since you sate, + With a glorious King (God save him!): + Have you not made his Majesty, + Had he the grace but to comply, + And do as you would have him! + + Your _Directory_ how to pray + By the spirit shows the perfect way; + In real you have abolisht + The Dagon of the _Common Prayer_, + And next we see you will take care + That churches be demolisht. + + A multitude in every trade + Of painful preachers you have made, + Learned by revelation; + Cambridge and Oxford made poor preachers, + Each shop affordeth better teachers,— + O blessed reformation! + + Your godly wisdom hath found out + The true religion, without doubt; + For sure among so many + We have five hundred at the least; + Is not the gospel much increast? + All must be pure, if any. + + Could you have done more piously + Than sell church lands the King to buy, + And stop the city’s plaints? + Paying the Scots church-militant, + That the new gospel helpt to plant; + God knows they are poor saints! + + Because th’ Apostles’ Creed is lame, + Th’ Assembly doth a better frame, + Which saves us all with ease; + Provided still we have the grace + To believe th’ House in the first place, + Our works be what they please. + + ’Tis strange your power and holiness + Can’t the Irish devils dispossess, + His end is very stout: + But tho’ you do so often pray, + And ev’ry month keep fasting-day, + You cannot cast them out. + + + +THE PURITAN. + + + By John Cleveland. + To the tune of “An old Courtier of the Queen’s.” + + WITH face and fashion to be known, + For one of sure election; + With eyes all white, and many a groan, + With neck aside to draw in tone, + With harp in’s nose, or he is none: + See a new teacher of the town, + Oh the town, oh the town’s new teacher! + + With pate cut shorter than the brow, + With little ruff starch’d, you know how, + With cloak like Paul, no cape I trow, + With surplice none; but lately now + With hands to thump, no knees to bow: + See a new teacher, etc. + + With coz’ning cough, and hollow cheek, + To get new gatherings every week, + With paltry change of _and_ to _eke_, + With some small Hebrew, and no Greek, + To find out words, when stuff’s to seek: + See a new teacher, etc. + + With shop-board breeding and intrusion, + With some outlandish institution, + With Ursine’s catechism to muse on, + With system’s method for confusion, + With grounds strong laid of mere illusion: + See a new teacher, etc. + + With rites indifferent all damned, + And made unlawful, if commanded; + Good works of Popery down banded, + And moral laws from him estranged, + Except the sabbath still unchanged: + See a new teacher, etc. + + With speech unthought, quick revelation, + With boldness in predestination, + With threats of absolute damnation + Yet _yea_ and _nay_ hath some salvation + For his own tribe, not every nation: + See a new teacher, etc. + + With after license cast a crown, + When Bishop new had put him down; + With tricks call’d repetition, + And doctrine newly brought to town + Of teaching men to hang and drown: + See a new teacher, etc. + + With flesh-provision to keep Lent, + With shelves of sweetmeats often spent, + Which new maid bought, old lady sent, + Though, to be saved, a poor present, + Yet legacies assure to event: + See a new teacher, etc. + + With troops expecting him at th’ door, + That would hear sermons, and no more; + With noting tools, and sighs great store, + With Bibles great to turn them o’er, + While he wrests places by the score: + See a new teacher, etc. + + With running text, the named forsaken, + With _for_ and _but_, both by sense shaken, + Cheap doctrines forced, wild uses taken, + Both sometimes one by mark mistaken; + With anything to any shapen: + See a new teacher, etc. + + With new-wrought caps, against the canon, + For taking cold, tho’ sure he have none; + A sermon’s end, where he began one, + A new hour long, when’s glass had run one, + New use, new points, new notes to stand on: + See a new teacher, etc. + + + +THE ROUNDHEAD. + + + From Samuel Butler’s Posthumous Works. + + WHAT creature’s that, with his short hairs, + His little band, and huge long ears, + That this new faith hath founded? + The saints themselves were never such, + The prelates ne’er ruled half so much; + Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead. + + What’s he that doth the bishops hate, + And counts their calling reprobate, + ’Cause by the Pope propounded; + And thinks a zealous cobbler better + Than learned Usher in ev’ry letter? + Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead. + + What’s he that doth _high treason_ say, + As often as his _yea_ and _nay_, + And wish the King confounded; + And dares maintain that Mr Pim + Is fitter for a crown than him? + Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead. + + What’s he that if he chance to hear + A little piece of _Common Prayer_, + Doth think his conscience wounded; + Will go five miles to preach and pray, + And meet a sister by the way? + Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead. + + What’s he that met a holy sister + And in a haycock gently kiss’d her? + Oh! then his zeal abounded: + ’Twas underneath a shady willow, + Her Bible served her for a pillow, + And there he got a Roundhead. + + + +PRATTLE YOUR PLEASURE UNDER THE ROSE. + + + From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. + + THERE is an old proverb which all the world knows, + Anything may be spoke, if ’t be under the rose: + Then now let us speak, whilst we are in the hint, + Of the state of the land, and th’ enormities in’t. + + Under the rose be it spoke, there is a number of knaves, + More than ever were known in a State before; + But I hope that their mischiefs have digg’d their own graves, + And we’ll never trust knaves for their sakes any more. + + Under the rose be it spoken, the city’s an ass + So long to the public to let their gold run, + To keep the King out; but ’tis now come to pass, + I am sure they will lose, whosoever has won. + + Under the rose be it spoken, there’s a company of men, + Trainbands they are called—a plague confound ’em:— + And when they are waiting at Westminster Hall, + May their wives be beguiled and begat with child all! + + Under the rose be it spoken, there’s a damn’d committee + Sits in hell (Goldsmiths’ Hall), in the midst of the city, + Only to sequester the poor Cavaliers— + The devil take their souls, and the hangman their ears. + + Under the rose be it spoken, if you do not repent + Of that horrible sin, your pure Parliament, + Pray stay till Sir Thomas doth bring in the King, + Then Derrick {32} may chance have ’em all in a string. + + Under the rose be it spoken, let the synod now leave + To wrest the whole Scripture, how souls to deceive; + For all they have spoken or taught will ne’er save ’em, + Unless they will leave that fault, hell’s sure to have ’em! + + + +THE DOMINION OF THE SWORD. + + + A song made in the Rebellion. + + From the Loyal Garland, 1686. + To the tune of “Love lies a bleeding.” + + LAY by your pleading, + Law lies a bleeding; + Burn all your studies down, and + Throw away your reading. + + Small pow’r the word has, + And can afford us + Not half so much privilege as + The sword does. + + It fosters your masters, + It plaisters disasters, + It makes the servants quickly greater + Than their masters. + + It venters, it enters, + It seeks and it centers, + It makes a’prentice free in spite + Of his indentures. + + It talks of small things, + But it sets up all things; + This masters money, though money + Masters all things. + + It is not season + To talk of reason, + Nor call it loyalty, when the sword + Will have it treason. + + It conquers the crown, too, + The grave and the gown, too, + First it sets up a presbyter, and + Then it pulls him down too. + + This subtle disaster + Turns bonnet to beaver; + Down goes a bishop, sirs, and up + Starts a weaver. + + This makes a layman + To preach and to pray, man; + And makes a lord of him that + Was but a drayman. + + Far from the gulpit + Of Saxby’s pulpit, + This brought an Hebrew ironmonger + To the pulpit. + + Such pitiful things be + More happy than kings be; + They get the upper hand of Thimblebee + And Slingsbee. + + No gospel can guide it, + No law can decide it, + In Church or State, till the sword + Has sanctified it. + + Down goes your law-tricks, + Far from the matricks, + Sprung up holy Hewson’s power, + And pull’d down St Patrick’s. + + This sword it prevails, too, + So highly in Wales, too, + Shenkin ap Powel swears + “Cots-splutterer nails, too.” + + In Scotland this faster + Did make such disaster, + That they sent their money back + For which they sold their master. + + It batter’d their Gunkirk, + And so it did their Spainkirk, + That he is fled, and swears the devil + Is in Dunkirk. + + He that can tower, + Or he that is lower, + Would be judged a fool to put + Away his power. + + Take books and rent ’em, + Who can invent ’em, + When that the sword replies, + _Negatur argumentum_. + + Your brave college-butlers + Must stoop to the sutlers; + There’s ne’er a library + Like to the cutlers’. + + The blood that was spilt, sir, + Hath gain’d all the gilt, sir; + Thus have you seen me run my + Sword up to the hilt, sir. + + + +THE STATE’S NEW COIN. + + +The coinage issued during the Protectorate of Cromwell, consisted of +pieces having on the obverse side a shield with St George’s cross, +encircled by a laurel and palm branch, and the words, “The Commonwealth +of England.” On the reverse side was the legend, “God with us,” and two +shields, bearing the arms of England and Ireland. + + SAW you the State’s money new come from the Mint? + Some people do say it is wonderous fine; + And that you may read a great mystery in’t, + Of mighty King Nol, the lord of the coin. + + They have quite omitted his politic head, + His worshipful face, and his excellent nose; + But the better to show the life he had led, + They have fix’d upon it the print of his hose. + + For, if they had set up his picture there, + They needs must ha’ crown’d him in Charles’s stead; + But ’twas cunningly done, that they did forbear, + And rather would set up aught else than his head. + + ’Tis monstrous strange, and yet it is true, + In this reformation we should have such luck; + That crosses were always disdain’d by you, + Who before pull’d them down, should now set them up. + + On this side they have circumscribed “God with us,” + And in this stamp and coin they confide; + _Common-Wealth_ on the other, by which we may guess + That God and the States were not both of a side. + + On this side they have cross and harp, + And only a cross on the other set forth; + By which we may learn, it falls to our part + Two crosses to have for one fit of mirth! + + + +THE ANARCHIE, OR THE BLEST REFORMATION SINCE 1640. + + +Being a new song, wherein the people expresse their thankes and pray for +the reformers. + +To be said or sung of all the well-affected of the kingdome of England, +and dominion of Wales, before the breaking up of this unhappy Parliament. + +[From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. It is printed but +incorrectly in the “Rump Songs,” ed. 1665, under the title of “The +Rebellion.”] + + To a rare new Tune. + (Oct. 24, 1648.) + + NOW that, thankes to the powers below! + We have e’ne done out our doe, + The mitre is downe, and so is the crowne, + And with them the coronet too; + Come clownes, and come boyes, come hober-de-hoyes, + Come females of each degree; + Stretch your throats, bring in your votes, + And make good the anarchy. + And “thus it shall goe,” sayes Alice; + “Nay, thus it shall goe,” sayes Amy; + “Nay, thus it shall goe,” sayes Taffie, “I trow;” + “Nay, thus it shall goe,” sayes Jamy. + + Ah! but the truth, good people all, + The truth is such a thing; + For it wou’d undoe both Church and State too, + And cut the throat of our King. + Yet not the spirit, nor the new light, + Can make this point so cleare, + But thou must bring out, thou deified rout, + What thing this truth is, and where. + Speak Abraham, speak Kester, speak Judith, speak Hester, + Speak tag and rag, short coat and long; + Truth’s the spell made us rebell, + And murther and plunder, ding-dong. + “Sure I have the truth,” sayes Numph; + “Nay, I ha’ the truth,” sayes Clemme; + “Nay, I ha’ the truth,” sayes Reverend Ruth; + “Nay, I ha’ the truth,” sayes Nem. + + Well, let the truth be where it will, + We’re sure all else is ours; + Yet these divisions in our religions + May chance abate our powers. + Then let’s agree on some one way, + It skills not much how true; + Take Pryn and his clubs; or Say and his tubs, {33} + Or any sect old or new; + The devil’s i’ th’ pack, if choyce you can lack, + We’re fourscore religions strong; + Take your choyce, the major voyce + Shall carry it, right or wrong. + “Then wee’le be of this,” sayes Megg; + “Nay, wee’le be of that,” sayes Tibb; + “Nay, wee’le be of all,” sayes pitifull Paul; + “Nay, wee’le be of none,” sayes Gibb. + + Neighbours and friends, pray one word more, + There’s something yet behinde; + And wise though you be, you doe not well see + In which doore sits the winde. + As for religion to speake right, + And in the Houses sence, + The matter’s all one to have any or none, + If ’twere not for the pretence. + But herein doth lurke the key of the worke, + Even to dispose of the crowne, + Dexteriously, and as may be, + For your behoofe and your owne. + “Then let’s ha’ King Charles,” sayes George; + “Nay, let’s have his son,” sayes Hugh; + “Nay, let’s have none,” sayes Jabbering Jone; + “Nay, let’s be all kings,” sayes Prue. + + Oh we shall have (if we go on + In plunder, excise, and blood) + But few folke and poore to domineere ore, + And that will not be so good; + Then let’s resolve on some new way, + Some new and happy course, + The country’s growne sad, the city horne-mad, + And both the Houses are worse. + The synod hath writ, the generall hath spit, + And both to like purposes too; + Religion, lawes, the truth, the cause, + Are talk’t of, but nothing we doe. + “Come, come, shal’s ha’ peace?” sayes Nell; + “No, no, but we won’t,” sayes Madge; + “But I say we will,” sayes firy-faced Phill; + “We will and we won’t,” sayes Hodge. + + Thus from the rout who can expect + Ought but division? + Since unity doth with monarchy + Begin and end in one. + If then when all is thought their owne, + And lyes at their behest, + These popular pates reap nought but debates, + From that many round-headed beast; + Come, Royalists, then, doe you play the men, + And Cavaliers give the word; + Now let us see at what you would be, + And whether you can accord. + “A health to King Charles!” sayes Tom; + “Up with it,” sayes Ralph, like a man; + “God blesse him,” sayes Doll; “and raise him,” sayes Moll; + “And send him his owne!” sayes Nan. + + Now for these prudent things that sit + Without end and to none, + And their committees, that townes and cities + Fill with confusion; + For the bold troopes of sectaries, + The Scots and their partakers, + Our new British states, Col. Burges and his mates, + The covenant and its makers; + For all these wee’le pray, and in such a way, + As if it might granted be, + Jack and Gill, Mat and Will, + And all the world would agree. + “A plague take them all!” sayes Besse; + “And a pestilence too!” sayes Margery, + “The devill!” sayes Dick; “And his dam, {34} too!” sayes Nick; + “Amen! and Amen!” say I. + +It is desired that the knights and burgesses would take especial care to +send down full numbers hereof to their respective counties and burroughs, +for which they have served apprenticeship, that all the people may +rejoyce as one man for their freedom. + + + +A COFFIN FOR KING CHARLES, +A CROWN FOR CROMWELL, +AND A PIT FOR THE PEOPLE. + + +From a broadside in the King’s Pamphlets, vol. viii. in the British +Museum, with the direction, “You may sing this to the tune of ‘Faine I +would.’” The tune sometimes called “Parthenia,” and “The King’s +Complaint,” is to be found in Mr Chappell’s Popular Music of the Olden +Time. The King was beheaded in January, 1649. This Ballad is dated the +23rd of April in the same year. + + CROMWELL ON THE THRONE. + + SO, so, the deed is done, + The royal head is sever’d, + As I meant when I first begun, + And strongly have endeavour’d. + Now Charles the First is tumbled down, + The Second I do not fear; + I grasp the sceptre, wear the crown, + Nor for Jehovah care. + + KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN. + + Think’st thou, base slave, though in my grave + Like other men I lie, + My sparkling fame and royal name + Can (as thou wishest) die? + Know, caitif, in my son I live + (The Black Prince call’d by some), + And he shall ample vengeance give + To those that did my doom. + + THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT. + + Supprest, deprest, involved in woes, + Great Charles, thy people be + Basely deceived with specious shows + By those that murther’d thee. + We are enslaved to tyrants’ hests, + Who have our freedom won: + Our fainting hope now only rests + On thy succeeding son. + + CROMWELL ON THE THRONE. + + Base vulgar! know, the more you stir, + The more your woes increase, + Your rashness will your hopes deter, + ’Tis we must give you peace. + Black Charles a traitor is proclaim’d + Unto our dignity; + He dies (if e’er by us he’s gain’d) + Without all remedy. + + KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN. + + Thrice perjured villain! didst not thou + And thy degenerate train, + By mankind’s Saviour’s body vow + To me thy sovereign, + To make me the most glorious king + That e’er o’er England reign’d; + That me and mine in everything + By you should be maintain’d? + + THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT. + + Sweet prince! O let us pardon crave + Of thy beloved shade; + ’Tis we that brought thee to the grave, + Thou wert by us betray’d. + We did believe ’twas reformation + These monsters did desire; + Not knowing that thy degradation + And death should be our hire. + + CROMWELL ON THE THRONE. + + Ye sick-brain’d fools! whose wit does lie + In your small guts; could you + Imagine our conspiracy + Did claim no other due, + But for to spend our dearest bloods + To make rascallions flee? + No, we sought for your lives and goods, + And for a monarchy. + + KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN. + + But there’s a Thunderer above, + Who, though he winks awhile, + Is not with your black deeds in love, + He hates your damned guile. + And though a time you perch upon + The top of Fortune’s wheel, + You shortly unto Acharon + (Drunk with your crimes) shall reel. + + THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT. + + Meanwhile (thou glory of the earth) + We languishing do die: + _Excise_ doth give free-quarters birth, + While soldiers multiply. + Our lives we forfeit every day, + Our money cuts our throats; + The laws are taken clean away, + Or shrunk to traitor’s votes. + + CROMWELL ON THE THRONE. + + Like patient mules resolve to bear + Whate’er we shall impose; + Your lives and goods you need not fear, + We’ll prove your friends, not foes. + We (the _elected_ ones) must guide + A thousand years this land; + You must be props unto our pride, + And slaves to our command. + + KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN. + + But you may fail of your fair hopes, + If fates propitious be; + And yield your loathed lives in ropes + To vengeance and to me. + When as the Swedes and Irish join, + The Cumbrian and the Scot + Do with the Danes and French combine, + Then look unto your lot. + + THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT. + + Our wrongs have arm’d us with such strength, + So sad is our condition, + That could we hope that now at length + We might find intermission, + And had but half we had before, + Ere these mechanics sway’d; + To our revenge, knee-deep in gore, + We would not fear to wade. + + CROMWELL ON THE THRONE. + + In vain (fond people) do you grutch + And tacitly repine. + For why? my skill and strength are such + Both poles of heaven are mine. + Your hands and purses both cohered + To raise us to this height: + You must protect those you have rear’d, + Or sink beneath their weight. + + KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN. + + Singing with angels near the throne + Of the Almighty Three + I sit, and know perdition + (Base Cromwell) waits on thee, + And on thy vile associates: + Twelve months {35} shall full conclude + Your power—thus speak the powerful fates, + Then _vades_ your interlude. + + THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT. + + Yea, powerful fates, haste, haste the time, + The most auspicious day, + On which these monsters of our time + To hell must post away. + Meanwhile, so pare their sharpen’d claws, + And so impair their stings, + We may no more fight for the Cause + Or other _novel_ things! + + + +A SHORT LITANY FOR THE YEAR 1649. + + + By Samuel Butler. (From his Posthumous Works.) + + FROM all the mischiefs that I mention here, + Preserve us, Heaven, in this approaching year: + From civil wars and those uncivil things + That hate the race of all our queens and kings; + From those who for self-ends would all betray, + From saints that curse and flatter when they pray; + From those that hold it merit to rebel, + In treason, murthers, and in theft excel; + From those new teachers have destroy’d the old, + And those that turn the gospel into gold; + From a High-Court, and that rebellious crew + That did their hands in royal blood imbrue,— + Defend us, Heaven, and to the throne restore + The rightful heir, and we will ask no more. + + + +THE SALE OF REBELLION’S HOUSE-HOLD STUFF. + + +Printed in “Percy’s Reliques,” from an old black-letter copy in Mr Pepys’ +collection, corrected by two others, one of which is preserved in a +Choice Collection of 120 Loyal Songs—1684 + + To the tune of “Old Sir Simon the King.” + + REBELLION hath broken up house, + And hath left me old lumber to sell; + Come hither and take your choice, + I’ll promise to use you well. + Will you buy the old Speaker’s chair? + Which was warm and easy to sit in, + And oft has been clean’d, I declare, + Whereas it was fouler than fitting. + Says old Simon the King, + Says old Simon the King, + With his ale-dropt hose, and his Malmsey nose, + Sing, hey ding, ding-a-ding, ding. + + Will you buy any bacon flitches, + The fattest that ever were spent? + They’re the sides of the old committees + Fed up in the Long Parliament. + Here’s a pair of bellows and tongs, + And for a small matter I’ll sell ye ’um, + They are made of the presbyter’s lungs, + To blow up the coals of rebellion. + Says old Simon, etc. + + I had thought to have given them once + To some blacksmith for his forge; + But now I have consider’d on’t, + They are consecrate to the Church: + So I’ll give them unto some quire, + They will make the big organs roar, + And the little pipes to squeak higher + Than ever they could before. + Says old Simon, etc. + + Here’s a couple of stools for sale, + One’s square, and t’other is round; + Betwixt them both, the tail + Of the Rump fell down to the ground. + Will you buy the State’s council-table, + Which was made of the good wain-Scot? + The frame was a tottering Babel, + To uphold th’ Independent plot. + Says old Simon, etc. + + Here’s the besom of Reformation, + Which should have made clean the floor; + But it swept the wealth out of the nation, + And left us dirt good store. + Will you buy the state’s spinning-wheel, + Which spun for the roper’s trade? + But better it had stood still, + For now it has spun a fair thread. + Says old Simon, etc. + + Here’s a glyster-pipe well tried, + Which was made of a butcher’s stump, + And has been safely applied + To cure the colds of the Rump. + Here’s a lump of pilgrim’s-salve, + Which once was a justice of peace, + Who Noll and the devil did serve, + But now it is come to this, + Says old Simon, etc. + + Here’s a roll of the State’s tobacco, + If any good fellow will take it; + No Virginia had e’er such a Smack-o, + And I’ll tell you how they did make it: + ’Tis th’ Engagement and Covenant cook’t + Up with the abjuration oath, + And many of them that have took’t + Complain it was foul in the mouth. + Says old Simon, etc. + + Yet the ashes may happily serve + To cure the scab of the nation, + Whene’er’t has an itch to swerve + To rebellion by innovation. + A lanthorn here is to be bought, + The like was scarce ever gotten, + For many plots it has found out + Before they ever were thought on. + Says old Simon, etc. + + Will you buy the Rump’s great saddle, + With which it jockey’d the nation? + And here is the bit and the bridle, + And curb of dissimulation; + And here’s the trunk-hose of the Rump, + And their fair dissembling cloak; + And a Presbyterian jump, + With an Independent smock. + Says old Simon, etc. + + Will you buy a conscience oft turn’d, + Which served the High-Court of justice, + And stretch’d until England it mourn’d, + But hell will buy that if the worst is. + Here’s Joan Cromwell’s kitchen-stuff tub, + Wherein is the fat of the Rumpers, + With which old Noll’s horns she did rub, + When he was got drunk with false bumbers. + Says old Simon, etc. + + Here’s the purse of the public faith; + Here’s the model of the Sequestration, + When the old wives upon their good troth + Lent thimbles to ruin the nation. + Here’s Dick Cromwell’s Protectorship, + And here are Lambert’s commissions, + And here is Hugh Peters his scrip, + Cramm’d with tumultuous petitions. + Says old Simon, etc. + + And here are old Noll’s brewing vessels, + And here are his dray and his flings; + Here are Hewson’s {36} awl and his bristles, + With diverse other odd things: + And what is the price doth belong + To all these matters before ye? + I’ll sell them all for an old song, + And so I do end my story. + Says old Simon, etc. + + + +THE CAVALIER’S FAREWELL TO HIS MISTRESS, BEING CALLED TO THE WARRS. + + +The following song was extracted from the MS. Diary of the Rev. John +Adamson (afterwards Rector of Burton Coggles, Lincolnshire), commencing +in 1658; by a correspondent of Notes and Queries, First Series, Jan. 18, +1851. + + FAIR Fidelia, tempt no more, + I may no more thy deity adore + Nor offer to thy shrine, + I serve one more divine + And farr more great than you: + I must goe, + Lest the foe + Gaine the cause and win the day. + Let’s march bravely on, + Charge ym in the van, + Our cause God’s is, + Though their odds is + Ten to one. + + Tempt no more, I may not yeeld + Altho’ thine eyes + A kingdome may surprize: + Leave off thy wanton toiles, + The high-borne Prince of Wales + Is mounted in the field, + Where the royall gentry flocke. + Though alone + Nobly borne + Of a ne’re decaying stocke. + Cavaliers, be bold, + Bravely keep your hold, + He that loyters + Is by traytors + Bought and sold. + + One kisse more, and then farewell; + Oh no, no more, + I prithee give me o’er,— + Why cloudest thou thy beames? + I see by these extreames + A woman’s heaven or hell. + Pray the King may have his owne, + And the Queen + May be seen + With her babes on England’s throne. + Rally up your men, + One shall vanquish ten, + Victory, we + Come to try thee + Once agen. + + + +THE LAST NEWS FROM FRANCE. + + + [From vol. iii. of the Roxburgh Ballads, in the British Museum.] + +The last news from France, being a true relation of the escape of the +King of Scots from Worcester to London and from London to France,—who was +conveyed away by a young gentleman in woman’s apparel; the King of Scots +attending on this supposed gentlewoman in manner of a serving-man. + + Tune, “When the King enjoys his own again.” + + ALL you that do desire to know + What is become of the King o’ Scots, + I unto you will truly show + After the fight of Northern Rats. + ’Twas I did convey + His Highness away, + And from all dangers set him free;— + In woman attire, + As reason did require, + And the King himself did wait on me. + + He of me a service did crave, + And oftentimes to me stood bare; + In woman’s apparel he was most brave, + And on his chin he had no hare; + Wherever I came + My speeches did frame + So well my waiting-man to free, + The like was never known + I think by any I one, + For the King himself did wait on me. + + My waiting-man a jewel had, + Which I for want of money sold; + Because my fortune was so bad + We turn’d our jewel into gold. + A good shift indeed, + In time of our need, + Then glad was I and glad was he; + Our cause it did advance + Until we came to France, + And the King himself did wait on me. + + We walked through Westminster Hall, + Where law and justice doth take place + Our grief was great, our comfort small, + We lookt grim death all in the face. + I lookt round about, + And made no other doubt + But I and my man should taken be; + The people little knew, + As I may tell to you, + The King himself did wait on me. + + From thence we went to the fatal place + Where his father lost his life; + And then my man did weep apace, + And sorrow with him then was rife. + I bid him peace, + Let sorrow cease, + For fear that we should taken be. + The gallants in Whitehall + Did little know at all + That the King himself did wait on me. + + The King he was my serving-man, + And thus the plot we did contrive: + I went by the name of Mistress Anne + When we took water at Queenhythe. + A boat there we took, + And London forsook, + And now in France arrived are we. + We got away by stealth, + And the King is in good health, + And he shall no longer wait on me. + + The King of Denmark’s dead, they say, + Then Charles is like to rule the land; + In France he will no longer stay, + As I do rightly understand. + That land is his due, + If they be but true, + And he with them do well agree: + I heard a bird sing + If he once be their king, + My man will then my master be. + + Now Heaven grant them better success + With their young king than England had; + Free from war and from distress, + Their fortune may not be so bad; + Since the case thus stands, + Let neighbouring lands + Lay down their arms and at quiet be; + But as for my part, + I am glad with all my heart + That my King must now my master be. + + And thus I have declared to you + By what means we escaped away; + Now we bid our cares adieu, + Though the King did lose the day. + To him I was true, + And that he well knew; + ’Tis God that must his comfort be, + Else all our policy + Had been but foolery, + For the King no longer waits on me. + + + +SONG TO THE FIGURE TWO. + + + From vol. ii. of the Roxburgh Ballads, in the British Museum. + + A merry new song wherein you may view + The drinking healths of a joviall crew, + To t’ happie return of the figure of TWO. + + The figure of TWO is a palpable allusion to Charles II. Tune, “Ragged, + and torn, and true.” + + I HAVE been a traveller long, + And seen the conditions of all; + I see how each other they wrong, + And the weakest still goes to the wall. + And here I’ll begin to relate + The crosse condition of those + That hinder our happy fate, + And now are turned our foes. + Here’s a health to the figure of TWO, + To the rest of the issue renown’d; + We’ll bid all our sorrows adieu, + When the figure of TWO shall be crown’d. + + I crossed the ocean of late, + And there I did meet with a crosse, + But having a pretty estate, + I never lamented my losse: + I never lamented my harmes, + And yet I was wondrous sad; + I found all the land up in arms, + And I thought all the folke had bin mad. + Here’s a health, etc. + + Kind countrymen, how fell ye out? + I left you all quiet and still; + But things are now brought so about, + You nothing but plunder and kill; + Some doe seem seemingly holy, + And would be reformers of men, + But wisdom doth laugh at their folly, + And sayes they’ll be children agen, + Here’s a health, etc. + + But woe to the figure of One! + King Solomon telleth us so; + But he shall be wronged by none + That hath two strings to his bow. + How I love this figure of TWO + Among all the figures that be, + I’ll make it appear unto you + If that you will listen to me. + Here’s a health, etc. + + Observe when the weather is cold + I wear a cap on my head, + But wish, if I may be so bold, + The figure of TWO in my bed. + TWO in my bed I do crave, + And that is myself and my mate; + But pray do not think I would have + TWO large great hornes on my pate. + Here’s a health, etc. + + Since Nature hath given two hands, + But when they are foul I might scorn them; + Yet people thus much understands, + TWO fine white gloves will adorn them. + TWO feet for to bear up my body, + No more had the knight of the sun; + But people would think me a noddy + If two shoes I would not put on. + Here’s a health, etc. + + The figure of TWO is a thing + That we cannot well live without, + No more than without a good king, + Though we be never so stout; + And thus we may well understand, + If ever our troubles should cease, + Two needful things in a land + Is a king and a justice of peace. + Here’s a health, etc. + + And now for to draw to an end, + I wish a good happy conclusion, + The State would so much stand our friend, + To end this unhappy confusion; + The which might be done in a trice, + In giving of Cæsar his due; + If we were so honest and wise + As to think of the figure of TWO. + Here’s a health, etc. + + If any desire to know, + This riddle I now will unfold, + It is a man wrapped in woe, + Whose father is wrapped in mould: + So now to conclude my song, + I mention him so much the rather + Because he hath suffer’d some wrong, + And bears up the name of his father. + Here’s a health, etc. + + + +THE REFORMATION. + + + Written in the year 1652, by Samuel Butler. From his Posthumous Works. + + TELL me not of Lords and laws, + Rules or reformation; + All that’s done not worth two straws + To the welfare of the nation; + If men in power do rant it still, + And give no reason but their will + For all their domination; + Or if they do an act that’s just, + ’Tis not because they would, but must, + To gratify some party’s lust. + + All our expense of blood and purse + Has yet produced no profit; + Men are still as bad or worse, + And will whate’er comes of it. + We’ve shuffled out and shuffled in + The person, but retain the sin, + To make our game the surer; + Yet spight of all our pains and skill, + The knaves all in the pack are still, + And ever were, and ever will, + Though something now demurer. + + And it can never be so, + Since knaves are still in fashion; + Men of souls so base and low, + Meer bigots of the nation; + Whose designs are power and wealth, + At which by rapine, power, and stealth, + Audaciously they vent’re ye; + They lay their consciences aside, + And turn with every wind and tide, + Puff’d on by ignorance and pride, + And all to look like gentry. + + Crimes are not punish’d ’cause they’re crimes, + But cause they’re low and little: + Mean men for mean faults in these times + Make satisfaction to tittle; + While those in office and in power + Boldly the underlings devour, + Our cobweb laws can’t hold ’em; + They sell for many a thousand crown + Things which were never yet their own, + And this is law and custom grown, + ’Cause those do judge who sold ’em. + + Brothers still with brothers brawl, + And for trifles sue ’em; + For two pronouns that spoil all + Contentious _meum_ and _tuum_. + The wary lawyer buys and builds + While the client sells his fields + To sacrifice his fury; + And when he thinks t’ obtain his right, + He’s baffled off or beaten quite + By the judge’s will, or lawyer’s slight, + Or ignorance of the jury. + + See the tradesman how he thrives + With perpetual trouble: + How he cheats and how he strives, + His estate t’ enlarge and double; + Extort, oppress, grind and encroach, + To be a squire and keep a coach, + And to be one o’ th’ quorum; + Who may with’s brother-worships sit, + And judge without law, fear, or wit, + Poor petty thieves, that nothing get, + And yet are brought before ’em. + + And his way to get all this + Is mere dissimulation; + No factious lecture does he miss, + And ’scape no schism that’s in fashion: + But with short hair and shining shoes, + He with two pens and note-book goes, + And winks and writes at random; + Thence with short meal and tedious grace, + In a loud tone and public place, + Sings wisdom’s hymns, that trot and pace + As if Goliah scann’d ’em. + + But when Death begins his threats, + And his conscience struggles + To call to mind his former cheats, + Then at Heaven he turns and juggles: + And out of all’s ill-gotten store + He gives a dribbling to the poor; + An hospital or school-house; + And the suborn’d priest for his hire + Quite frees him from th’ infernal fire, + And places him in th’ angel’s quire: + Thus these Jack-puddings fool us! + + All he gets by’s pains i’ th’ close, + Is, that he dy’d worth so much; + Which he on’s doubtful seed bestows, + That neither care nor know much: + Then fortune’s favourite, his heir, + Bred base and ignorant and bare, + Is blown up like a bubble: + Who wondering at’s own sudden rise, + By pride, simplicity, and vice, + Falls to his sports, drink, drabs, and dice, + And make all fly like stubble. + + And the Church, the other twin, + Whose mad zeal enraged us, + Is not purified a pin + By all those broils in which th’ engaged us: + We our wives turn’d out of doors, + And took in concubines and whores, + To make an alteration; + Our pulpitors are proud and bold, + They their own wills and factions hold, + And sell salvation still for gold, + And here’s our _reformation_! + + ’Tis a madness then to make + Thriving our employment, + And lucre love for lucre’s sake, + Since we’ve possession, not enjoyment: + Let the times run on their course, + For oppression makes them worse, + We ne’er shall better find ’em; + Let grandees wealth and power engross, + And honour, too, while we sit close, + And laugh and take our plenteous dose + Of sack, and never mind ’em. + + + +UPON THE GENERAL PARDON PASSED BY THE RUMP. + + +From a broadside in the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. After +Cromwell’s victory at Worcester, he prevailed on the Parliament to pass a +general, or quasi-general, amnesty for all political offences committed +prior to that time. + + REJOICE, rejoice, ye Cavaliers, + For here comes that dispels your fears; + A general pardon is now past, + What was long look’d for, comes at last. + + It pardons all that are undone; + The Pope ne’er granted such a one: + So long, so large, so full, so free, + Oh what a glorious State have we! + + Yet do not joy too much, my friends, + First see how well this pardon ends; + For though it hath a glorious face, + I fear there’s in’t but little grace. + + ’Tis said the mountains once brought forth,— + And what brought they? a mouse, in troth; + Our States have done the like, I doubt, + In this their pardon now set out. + + We’ll look it o’er, then, if you please, + And see wherein it brings us ease: + And first, it pardons words, I find, + Against our State—words are but wind. + + Hath any pray’d for th’ King of late, + And wish’d confusion to our State? + And call’d them rebels? He may come in + And plead this pardon for that sin. + + Has any call’d King Charles that’s dead + A martyr—he that lost his head? + And villains those that did the fact? + That man is pardon’d by this Act. + + Hath any said our Parliament + I such a one as God ne’er sent? + Or hath he writ, and put in print, + That he believes the devil’s in’t? + + Or hath he said there never were + Such tyrants anywhere as here? + Though this offence of his be high, + He’s pardon’d for his blasphemy. + + You see how large this pardon is, + It pardons all our _Mercuries_, {37} + And poets too, for you know they + Are poor, and have not aught to pay. + + For where there’s money to be got, + I find this pardon pardons not; + Malignants that were rich before, + Shall not be pardon’d till they’re poor. + + Hath any one been true to th’ Crown, + And for that paid his money down, + By this new Act he shall be free, + And pardon’d for his loyalty. + + Who have their lands confiscate quite, + For not compounding when they might; + If that they know not how to dig, + This pardon gives them leave to beg. + + Before this Act came out in print, + We thought there had been comfort in’t; + We drank some healths to the higher powers, + But now we’ve seen’t they’d need drink ours. + + For by this Act it is thought fit + That no man shall have benefit, + Unless he first engage to be + A rebel to eternity. + + Thus, in this pardon it is clear + That nothing’s here and nothing’s there: + I think our States do mean to choke us + With this new Act of _hocus pocus_. + + Well, since this Act’s not worth a pin, + We’ll pray our States to call it in, + For most men think it ought to be + Burnt by the hand of Gregory. + + Then, to conclude, here’s little joy + For those that pray _Vive le Roy_! + But since they’ll not forget our crimes, + We’ll keep our mirth till better times. + + + +AN OLD SONG ON OLIVER’S COURT. + + + Written in the year 1654, by Samuel Butler. + + HE that would a new courtier be + And of the late coyn’d gentry; + A brother of the prick-eared crew, + Half a presbyter, half a Jew, + When he is dipp’d in Jordan’s flood, + And wash’d his hands in royal blood, + Let him to our court repair, + Where all trades and religions are. + + If he can devoutly pray, + Feast upon a fasting day, + Be longer blessing a warm bit + Than the cook was dressing it; + With covenants and oaths dispense, + Betray his lord for forty pence, + Let him, etc. + + If he be one of the eating tribe, + Both a Pharisee and a Scribe, + And hath learn’d the snivelling tone + Of a flux’d devotion; + Cursing from his sweating tub + The Cavaliers to Beelzebub, + Let him, etc. + + Who sickler than the city ruff, + Can change his brewer’s coat to buff, + His dray-cart to a coach, the beast + Into Flanders mares at least; + Nay, hath the art to murder kings, + Like David, only with his slings, + Let him, etc. + + If he can invert the word, + Turning his ploughshare to a sword, + His cassock to a coat of mail; + ’Gainst bishops and the clergy rail; + Convert Paul’s church into the mews; + Make a new colonel of old shoes, + Let him, etc. + + Who hath commission to convey + Both sexes to _Jamaica_, + There to beget new babes of grace + On wenches hotter than the place, + Who carry in their tails a fire + Will rather scorch than quench desire, + Let him, etc. + + + +THE PARLIAMENT ROUTED, +OR +HERE’S A HOUSE TO BE LET. + + + I hope that England, after many jarres, + Shall be at peace, and give no way to warres: + O Lord, protect the generall, that he + May be the agent of our unitie. + +Written upon the dissolution of the Long Parliament by Cromwell, on the +20th April, 1653, and extracted from the King’s Pamphlets, British +Museum. June 3rd, 1653. + + To the tune of “Lucina, or, Merrily and Cherrily.” + + CHEARE up, kind countrymen, be not dismay’d, + True news I can tell ye concerning the nation; + Hot spirits are quench’d, the tempest is layd, + (And now we may hope for a good reformation). + The Parliament bold and the counsell of state + Doe wish them beyond sea, or else at Virginie; + For now all their orders are quite out of date, + Twelve Parliament men shall be sold for peny. + + Full twelve years and more these rooks they have sat, + To gull and to cozen all true-hearted people; + Our gold and our silver has made them so fat, + That they lookt more big and mighty than Paul’s steeple. + The freedome of subject they much did pretend, + But since they bore sway we never had any; + For every member promoted self-end, + Twelve Parliament men are now sold for one peny. + + Their acts and their orders which they have contrived, + Was still in conclusion to multiply riches: + The Common-wealth sweetly by these men have thrived, + As Lancashire did with the juncto of witches. {38} + Oh! our freedome was chain’d to the Egyptian yoak, + As it hath been felt and endured by many, + Still making religion their author and cloak, + Twelve Parliament men shall be sold for a peny. + + Both citie and countrey are almost undone + By these caterpillars, which swarm’d in the nation; + Their imps and their goblins did up and downe run, + Excise-men, I meane, all knaves of a fashion: + For all the great treasure that dayly came in, + The souldier wants pay, ’tis well knowne by a many; + To cheat and to cozen they held it no sinne, + Twelve Parliament men shall be sold for a peny. + + The land and the livings which these men have had, + ’Twould make one admire what use they’ve made of it, + With plate and with jewels they have bin well clad, + The souldier fared hard whilst they got the profit. + Our gold and our silver to Holland they sent, + But being found out, this is knowne by a many, + That no one would owne it for feare of a shent, + Twelve Parliament men are sold for a peny. + + ’Tis judged by most people that they were the cause + Of England and Holland, their warring together, {39} + Both friends and dear lovers to break civill lawes, + And in cruell manner to kill one another. + What cared they how many did lose their dear lives, + So they by the bargain did get people’s money, + Sitting secure like bees in their hives? + But twelve Parliament men are now sold for a peny. + + +THE SECOND PART + + + To the same tune. + + THEY voted, unvoted, as fancy did guide, + To passe away time, but increasing their treasure + (When Jack is on cock-horse hee’l galloping ride, + But falling at last, hee’l repent it at leisure). + The widow, the fatherlesse, gentry and poore, + The tradesman and citizen, with a great many, + Have suffer’d full dearly to heap up their store; + But twelve Parliament men shall be sold for a peny. + + These burdens and grievances England hath felt, + So long and so heavy, our hearts are e’en broken, + Our plate, gold and silver, to themselves they’ve dealt + (All this is too true, in good time be it spoken). + For a man to rise high and at last to fall low, + It is a discredit: this lot fals to many, + But ’tis no great matter these men to serve so, + Twelve Parliament men now are sold for a peny. + + The generall {40} perceiving their lustfull desire + To covet more treasure, being puft with ambition, + By their acts and their orders to set all on fire, + Pretending religion to rout superstition: + He bravely commanded the souldiers to goe + In the Parliament-house, in defiance of any; + To which they consented, and now you doe know + That twelve Parliament men may be sold for a peny. + + The souldiers undaunted laid hold on the mace, + And out of the chaire they removed the speaker: + The great ones was then in a pittifull case, + And Tavee cryd out, All her cold must forsake her. {41} + Thus they were routed, pluckt out by the eares, + The House was soone empty and rid of a many + Usurpers, that sate there this thirteen long yeares; + Twelve Parliament men may be sold for a peny. + + To the Tower of London away they were sent, + As they have sent others by them captivated; + Oh what will become of this old Parliament + And all their compeers, that were royally stated. + What they have deserved I wish they may have, + And ’tis the desire I know of a many; + For us to have freedome, oh that will be brave! + But twelve Parliament men may be sold for a peny. + + Let’s pray for the generall and all his brave traine, + He may be an instrument for England’s blessing, + Appointed in heaven to free us againe,— + For this is the way of our burdens redressing: + For England to be in glory once more, + It would satisfy, I know, a great many; + But ending I say, as I said before, + Twelve Parliament men now are sold for a peny. + + + +A CHRISTMAS SONG WHEN THE RUMP WAS FIRST DISSOLVED. + + +From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. The Rump Parliament, in an +excess of Puritanic acerbity, had abolished the observance of Christmas, +and forbidden the eating of puddings and pies, as savouring of Popery. + + Tune—“I tell thee, Dick.” + + THIS Christmas time ’tis fit that we + Should feast, and sing, and merry be. + It is a time of mirth; + For never since the world began + More joyful news was brought to man + Than at our Saviour’s birth. + + But such have been these times of late, + That holidays are out of date, + And holiness to boot; + For they that do despise and scorn + To keep the day that Christ was born, + Want holiness no doubt. + + That Parliament that took away + The observation of that day, + We know it was not free; + For if it had, such acts as those + Had ne’er been seen in verse or prose, + You may conclude with me. + + ’Twas that Assembly did maintain + ’Twas law to kill their sovereign, + Who by that law must die; + Though God’s anointed ones are such, + Which subjects should not dare to touch, + Much less to crucify. + + ’Twas that which turn’d our bishops out + Of house and home, both branch and root, + And gave no reason why; + And all our clergy did expel, + That would not do like that rebel— + This no man can deny. + + It was that Parliament that took + Out of our churches our _Service book_, + A book without compare; + And made God’s house (to all our griefs), + That house of prayer, a den of thiefs’ + Both here and everywhere. + + They had no head for many years, + Nor heart (I mean the House of Peers), + And yet it did not die; + Of these long since it was bereft, + And nothing but the tail was left, + You know as well as I. + + And in this tail was a tongue, + Lenthal {42} I mean, whose fame hath rung + In country and in city; + Not for his worth or eloquence, + But for a rebel to his prince, + And neither wise nor witty. + + This Speaker’s words must needs be wind, + Since they proceeded from behind; + Besides, you way remember, + From thence no act could be discreet, + Nor could the sense o’ the House be sweet + Where Atkins was a member. + + This tale’s now done, the Speaker’s dumb, + Thanks to the trumpet and the drum; + And now I hope to see + A Parliament that will restore + All things that were undone before, + That we may Christians be. + + + +A FREE PARLIAMENT LITANY. + + + From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum.—(A. D. 1655.) + To the tune of “An Old Courtier of the Queen’s.” + + MORE ballads!—here’s a spick and span new supplication, + By order of a Committee for the Reformation, + To be read in all churches and chapels of this nation, + Upon pain of slavery and sequestration. + From fools and knaves in our Parliament free, + _Libera nos_, _Domine_. + + From those that ha’ more religion and less conscience than their + fellows; + From a representative that’s fearful and zealous; + From a starting jadish people that is troubled with the yellows, + And a priest that blows the coal (a crack in his bellows); + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From shepherds that lead their flocks into the briars, + And then fleece ’em; from vow-breakers and king-tryers; + Of Church and Crown lands, from both sellers and buyers; + From the children of him that is the father of liars; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From the doctrine and discipline of _now and anon_, + Preserve us and our wives from John T. and Saint John, + Like master like man, every way but one,— + The master has a large conscience, and the man has none; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From major-generals, army officers, and that phanatique crew; + From the parboil’d pimp Scot, and from Good-face the Jew; + From old Mildmay, that in Cheapside mistook his queu, + And from him that won’t pledge—Give the devil his due; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From long-winded speeches, and not a wise word; + From a gospel ministry settled by the sword; + From the act of a Rump, that stinks when ’tis stirr’d; + From a knight of the post, and a cobbling lord; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From all the rich people that ha’ made us poor; + From a Speaker that creeps to the House by a back-door; + From that badger, Robinson (that limps and bites sore); + And that dog in a doublet, Arthur—that will do so no more; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From a certain sly knave with a beastly name; + From a Parliament that’s wild, and a people that’s tame; + From Skippon, Titchbourne, Ireton,—and another of the same; + From a dung-hill cock, and a hen of the game; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From all those that sat in the High Court of Justice; + From usurpers that style themselves the people’s trustees; + From an old Rump, in which neither profit nor gust is, + And from the recovery of that which now in the dust is; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From a backsliding saint that pretend t’ acquiesce; + From crossing of proverbs (let ’um hang that confess); + From a sniveling cause, in a pontificall dress, + And two lawyers, with the devil and his dam in a mess; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From those that trouble the waters to mend the fishing, + And fight the Lord’s battles under the devil’s commission, + Such as eat up the nation, whilst the government’s a-dishing; + And from a people when it should be doing, stands wishing; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From an everlasting mock-parliament—and from _none_; + From Strafford’s old friends—Harry, Jack, and John; + From our solicitor’s wolf-law deliver our King’s son; + And from the resurrection of the Rump that is dead and gone; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From foreign invasion and commotions at home; + From our present distraction, and from work to come; + From the same hand again Smectymnus, or the bum, + And from taking Geneva in our way to Rome; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From a hundred thousand pound tax to keep knaves by the score + (But it is well given to these that turn’d those out of door); + From undoing ourselves in plaistering old sores; + He that set them a-work, let him pay their scores; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From saints and tender consciences in buff; + From Mounson in a foam, and Haslerig in a huff; + From both men and women that think they never have enough; + And from a fool’s head that looks through a chain and a duff; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From those that would divide the gen’ral and the city; + From Harry Martin’s girl, that was neither sweet nor pretty; + From a faction that has neither brain nor pity: + From the mercy of a phanatique committee; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + Preserve us, good Heaven, from entrusting those + That ha’ much to get and little to lose; + That murther’d the father, and the son would depose + (Sure they can’t be our friends that are their country’s foes); + From fools and knaves, etc. + + From Bradshaw’s presumption, and from Hoyle’s despairs; + From rotten members, blind guides, preaching aldermen, and false + may’rs; + From long knives, long ears, long parliaments, and long pray’rs; + In mercy to this nation—Deliver us and our heirs; + From fools and knaves, etc. + + + +THE MOCK SONG. + + + By T. J. With a reply by Alex. Brome.—(A.D. 1657.) + + HOLD, hold, quaff no more, + But restore + If you can what you’ve lost by your drinking: + Three kingdoms and crowns, + With their cities and towns, + While the King and his progeny’s sinking. + The studs in your cheeks have obscured his star, boys, + Your drinking miscarriages in the late war, boys, + Have brought his prerogative now to the war, boys. + + Throw, throw down the glass! + He’s an ass + That extracts all his worth from Canary; + That valour will shrink + That’s only good in drink; + ’Twas the cup made the camp to miscarry. + You thought in the world there’s no power could tame ye, + You tippled and whored till the foe overcame ye; + God’s nigs and Ne’er stir, sirs, has vanquish’d God damn me. + + Fly, fly from the coast, + Or you’re lost, + And the water will run where the drink went; + From hence you must slink, + If you have no chink, + ’Tis the course of the royal delinquent; + You love to see beer-bowls turn’d over the thumb well, + You like three fair gamesters, four dice, and a drum well, + But you’d as lief see the devil as Fairfax or Cromwell. + + Drink, drink not the round, + You’ll be drown’d + In the source of your sack and your sonnets; + Try once more your fate + For the King against the State, + And go barter your beavers for bonnets. + You see how they’re charm’d by the King’s enchanters, + And therefore pack hence to Virginia for planters, + For an act and two red-coats will rout all the ranters. + + + +THE ANSWER. + + + By Alex. Brome. + + STAY, stay, prate no more, + Lest thy brain, like thy purse, run the score, + Though thou strain’st it; + Those are traitors in grain + That of sack do complain, + And rail by its own power against it. + Those kingdoms and crowns which your poetry pities, + Are fall’n by the pride and hypocrisy of cities, + And not by those brains that love sack and good ditties; + The K. and his progeny had kept them from sinking, + Had they had no worse foes than the lads that love drinking, + We that tipple ha’ no leisure for plotting or thinking. + + He is an ass + That doth throw down himself with a glass + Of Canary; + He that’s quiet will think + Much the better of drink, + ’Cause the cups made the camp to miscarry. + You whore while we tipple, and there, my friend, you lie, + Your sports did determine in the month of July; + There’s less fraud in plain damme than your sly by my truly; + ’Tis sack makes our bloods both purer and warmer, + We need not your priest or the feminine charmer, + For a bowl of Canary’s a whole suit of armour. + + Hold, hold, not so fast, + Tipple on, for there is no such haste + To be going; + We drowning may fear, + But your end will be there + Where there is neither swimming nor rowing. + We were gamesters alike, and our stakes were both down, boys, + But Fortune did favour you, being her own, boys; + And who would not venture a cast for a crown, boys? + Since we wear the right colours, he the worst of our foes is + That goes to traduce, and fondly supposes + That Cromwell’s an enemy to sack and red noses. + + Then, then, quaff it round, + No deceit in a brimmer is found; + Here’s no swearing: + Beer and ale makes you prate + Of the Church and the State, + Wanting other discourse worth the hearing. + This strumpet your muse is, to ballad or flatter, + Or rail, and your betters with froth to bespatter, + And your talk’s all dismals and gunpowder matter; + But we, while old sack does divinely inspire us, + Are active to do what our rulers require us, + And attempt such exploits as the world shall admire us. + + + +AS CLOSE AS A GOOSE. + + +By Samuel Butler.—(A.D. 1657.) This ballad ridicules the tender of the +Crown of England to Oliver Cromwell by Alderman Pack, M.P. for London. + + AS close as a goose + Sat the Parliament-house, + To hatch the royal gull; + After much fiddle-faddle + The egg proved addle, + And Oliver came forth _Noll_. + + Yet old Queen Madge, {43} + Though things do not fadge, + Will serve to be queen of a May-pole; + Two Princes of Wales, {44} + For Whitsun-ales, + And her grace, Maid Marion Claypole. {45} + + In a robe of cow hide + Sat yeasty Pride, {46} + With his dagger and his sling; + He was the pertinenst peer + Of all that were there, + T’ advise with such a king. + + A great philosopher + Had a goose for his lover + That follow’d him day and night: + If it be a true story, + Or but an allegory, + It may be both ways right. + + Strickland {47} and his son, + Both cast into one, + Were meant for a single baron; + But when they came to sit, + There was not wit + Enough in them both to serve for one. + + Wherefore ’twas thought good + To add Honeywood, + But when they came to trial + Each one proved a fool, + Yet three knaves in the whole, + And that made up a _pair-royal_. + + + +THE PRISONERS. + + + Written when O. C. attempted to be King. By Alex. Brome. + + COME, a brimmer (my bullies), drink whole ones or nothing, + Now healths have been voted down; + ’Tis sack that can heat us, we care not for clothing, + A gallon’s as warm as a gown; + ’Cause the Parliament sees + Nor the former nor these + Could engage us to drink their health, + They may vote that we shall + Drink no healths at all, + Not to King nor to Commonwealth, + So that now we must venture to drink ’em by stealth. + + But we’ve found out a way that’s beyond all their thinking; + To keep up good fellowship still, + We’ll drink their destruction that would destroy drinking,— + Let ’um vote _that_ a health if they will. + Those men that did fight, + And did pray day and night + For the Parliament and its attendant, + Did make all that bustle + The King out to justle, + And bring in the Independent, + But now we all clearly see what was the end on’t. + + Now their idols thrown down with their sooter-kin also, + About which they did make such a pother; + And tho’ their contrivance did make one thing to fall so, + We have drank ourselves into another; + And now (my lads) we + May still Cavaliers be, + In spite of the Committee’s frown; + We will drink and we’ll sing, + And each health to our King + Shall be loyally drunk in the ‘_Crown_,’ + Which shall be the standard in every town. + + Their politick would-be’s do but show themselves asses + That other men’s calling invade; + We only converse with pots and with glasses, + Let the rulers alone with their trade; + The Lyon of the Tower + There estates does devour, + Without showing law for’t or reason; + Into prison we get + For the crime called debt, + Where our bodies and brains we do season, + And that is ne’er taken for murder or treason. + + Where our ditties still be, Give’s more drink, give’s more drink, + boys. + Let those that are frugal take care; + Our gaolers and we will live by our chink, boys, + While our creditors live by the air; + Here we live at our ease, + And get craft and grease, + ’Till we’ve merrily spent all our store; + Then, as drink brought us in, + ’Twill redeem us agen; + We got in because we were poor, + And swear ourselves out on the very same score. + + + +THE PROTECTING BREWER. + + +This was apparently written as a parody on the Brewer, in Pills to purge +Melancholy, 1682. The original was too complimentary to Oliver Cromwell, +asserted by the Royalists to have been a brewer in early life, to suit +the taste of the Cavaliers, and hence the alteration made in it. Such +compliments as the following must have proceeded from a writer of the +opposite party. + + Some Christian kings began to quake, + And said With the brewer no quarrel we’ll make, + We’ll let him alone; as he brews let him bake; + Which nobody can deny. + + He had a strong and a very stout heart, + And thought to be made an Emperor for’t, + * * * * * + Which nobody can deny. + + A BREWER may be a burgess grave, + And carry the matter so fine and so brave, + That he the better may play the knave, + Which nobody can deny. + + A brewer may put on a Nabal face, + And march to the wars with such a grace + That he may get a captain’s place; + Which nobody, etc. + + A brewer may speak so wondrous well + That he may rise (strange things to tell), + And so be made a colonel; + Which nobody, etc. + + A brewer may make his foes to flee, + And rise his fortunes, so that he + Lieutenant-general may be; + Which nobody, etc. + + A brewer may be all in all, + And raise his powers, both great and small, + That he may be a lord general; + Which nobody, etc. + + A brewer may be like a fox in a cub, + And teach a lecture out of a tub, + And give the wicked world a rub; + Which nobody, etc. + + A brewer, by’s excise and rate, + Will promise his army he knows what, + And set upon the college-gate; + Which nobody, etc. + + Methinks I hear one say to me, + Pray why may not a brewer be + Lord Chancellor o’ the University? + Which nobody, etc. + + A brewer may be as bold as Hector, + When as he had drank his cup o’ Nectar, + And a brewer may be a Lord Protector; + Which nobody, etc. + + Now here remains the strangest thing, + How this brewer about his liquor did bring + To be an emperor or a king; + Which nobody, etc. + + A brewer may do what he will, + And rob the Church and State, to sell + His soul unto the devil in hell; + Which nobody, etc. + + + +THE ARRAIGNMENT OF THE DEVIL FOR STEALING AWAY PRESIDENT BRADSHAW. + + +John Bradshaw, who had presided over the court of justice which condemned +Charles I. to the scaffold, and who by his extreme republican principles +had rendered himself obnoxious to Cromwell, began again to be +distinguished in public affairs after the Protector’s death, and was +elected President of the Council of State. He did not live long to enjoy +this honour, but died, according to some authorities, on the 31st +October, 1659. Chalmers places his death on the 22nd of November in that +year. + + To the tune of “Well-a-day, well-a-day.” + + IF you’ll hear news that’s ill, + Gentlemen, gentlemen, + Against the devil, I will + Be the relator; + Arraigned he must be, + For that feloniously, + ’Thout due solemnity, + He took a traitor. + + John Bradshaw was his name, + How it stinks! how it stinks! + Who’ll make with blacker fame + Pilate unknown. + This worse than worse of things + Condemn’d the best of kings, + And, what more guilt yet brings, + Knew ’twas his own. + + Virtue in Charles did seem + Eagerly, eagerly, + And villainy in him + To vye for glory. + Majesty so compleat + And impudence so great + Till that time never met:— + But to my story. + + Accusers there will be, + Bitter ones, bitter ones, + More than one, two, or three, + All full of spight; + Hangman and tree so tall, + Bridge, tower, and city-wall, + Kite and crow, which were all + Robb’d of their right. + + But judges none are fit, + Shame it is, shame it is, + That twice seven years did sit + To give hemp-string dome; + The friend they would befriend, + That he might in the end + To them like favour lend, + In his own kingdome. + + Sword-men, it must be you, + Boldly to’t, boldly to’t, + Must give the diver his due; + Do it not faintly, + But as you raised by spell + Last Parliament from hell, + And it again did quell + Omnipotently. + + The charge they wisely frame + (On with it, on with it) + In that yet unknown name + Of supream power; + While six weeks hence by vote + Shall be or it shall not, + When Monk’s to London got {48} + In a good hour. + + But twelve good men and true, + Caveliers, Caveliers, + He excepts against you; + Justice he fears. + From bar and pulpit hee + Craves such as do for fee + Serve all turns, for he’l be + Try’d by his peers. + + Satan, y’ are guilty found + By your peers, by your peers, + And must die above ground! + Look for no pity; + Some of our ministry, + Whose spir’ts with yours comply, + As Owen, Caryl, Nye, {49} + For death shall fit ’ee. + + Dread judges, mine own limb + I but took, I but took, + I was forced without him + To use a crutch; + Some of the robe can tell + How to supply full well + His place here, but in hell + I had none such. + + Divel, you are an asse, + Plain it is, plain it is, + And weakly plead the case; + Your wits are lost. + Some lawyers will outdo’t, + When shortly they come to’t; + Your craft, our gold to boot, + They have ingross’d. + + Should all men take their right, + Well-a-day, well-a-day, + We were in a sad plight, + O’ th’ holy party! + Such practise hath a scent + Of kingly government, + Against it we are bent, + Out of home char’ty. + + But if I die, who am + King of hell, King of hell, + You will not quench its flame, + But find it worse: + Confused anarchy + Will a new torment be; + Ne’r did these kingdoms three + Feel such a curse. + + To our promotion, sir, + There as here, there as here, + Through some confused stir + Doth the high-road lie; + In hell we need not fear + Nor King nor Cavalier, + Who then shall dominere + But we the godly? + + Truth, then, sirs, which of old + Was my shame, was my shame, + Shall now to yours be told: + You caused his death; + The house being broken by + Yourselves (there’s burglary), + Wrath enter’d forcibly, + And stopt his breath. + + Sir, as our president, + Taught by you, taught by you, + ’Gainst the King away went + Most strange and new; + Charging him with the guilt + Of all the blond we spilt, + With swords up to the hilt, + So we’le serve you. + + For mercy then I call, + Good my lords, good my lords, + And traytors I’le leave all + Duly to end it; + Sir, sir, ’tis frivolous, + As well for you as us, + To beg for mercy thus,— + Our crimes transcend it. + + You must die out of hand, + Satanas, Satanas: + This our decree shall stand + Without controll; + And we for you will pray, + Because the Scriptures say, + When some men curse you, they + Curse their own soul. + + The fiend to Tiburn’s gone, + There to die, there to die; + Black is the north, anon + Great storms will be; + Therefore together now + I leave him and th’ gallow,— + So, newes-man, take ’em now, + Soon they’l take thee. + + Finis, Fustis, Funis. + + + +A NEW BALLAD TO AN OLD TUNE,—TOM OF BEDLAM. + + + January 17th, 1659.—From the King’s Ballads, British Museum. + + MAKE room for an honest red-coat + (And that you’ll say’s a wonder), + The gun and the blade + Are the tools, and his trade + Is, for _pay_, to _kill_ and _plunder_. + Then away with the laws, + And the “Good old Cause;” + Ne’er talk of the Rump or the Charter; + ’Tis the cash does the feat, + All the rest’s but a cheat, + Without _that_ there’s no faith nor quarter. + + ’Tis the mark of our coin “_God with us_,” + And the grace of the Lord goes along with’t. + When the _Georges_ are flown + Then the Cause goes down, + For the Lord has departed from it. + Then away, etc. + + For Rome, or for Geneva, + For the table or the altar, + This spawn of a vote, + He cares not a groat— + For the _pence_ he’s your dog in a halter, + Then away, etc. + + Tho’ the name of King or Bishop + To nostrils pure may be loathsome, + Yet many there are + That agree with the May’r, + That their lands are wondrous toothsome. + Then away, etc. + + When our masters are poor we leave ’em, + ’Tis the Golden Calf we bow to; + We kill and we slay + Not for conscience, but pay; + Give us _that_, we’ll fight for you too. + Then away, etc. + + ’Twas _that_ first turn’d the King out; + The Lords next; then the Commons: + ’Twas that kept up Noll, + Till the Devil fetch’d his soul, + And then it set the _Rump_ on’s. + Then away, etc. + + Drunken Dick was a lame Protector, + And Fleetwood a back-slider; + These we served as the rest, + But the City’s the beast + That will never cast her rider. + Then away, etc. + + When the Mayor holds the stirrup + And the Shrieves cry, God save your honours; + Then ’tis but a jump + And up goes the Rump, + That will spur to the Devil upon us. + Then away, etc. + + And now for fling at your thimbles, + Your bodkins, rings, and whistles; + In truck for your toys + We’ll fit you with boys + (’Tis the doctrine of Hugh’s _Epistles_). + Then away, etc. + + When your plate is gone, and your jewels, + You must be next entreated + To part with your bags, + And to strip you to rags, + And yet not think you’re cheated. + Then away, etc. + + The truth is, the town deserves it, + ’Tis a brainless, heartless monster: + At a club they may bawl, + Or declare at their hall, + And yet at a push not one stir. + Then away, etc. + + Sir Arthur vow’d he’ll treat ’em + Far worse than the men of Chester; + He’s bold now they’re cow’d, + But he was nothing so loud + When he lay in the ditch at Lester. + Then away, etc. + + The Lord has left John Lambert, + And the spirit, Feak’s anointed; + But why, O Lord, + Hast thou sheath’d thy sword? + Lo! thy saints are disappointed. + Then away, etc. + + Though Sir Henry be departed, + Sir John makes good the place now; + And to help out the work + Of the glorious Kirk, + Our brethren march apace too. + Then away, etc. + + Whilst divines and statesmen wrangle, + Let the Rump-ridden nation bite on’t; + There are none but we + That are sure to go free, + For the soldier’s still in the right on’t. + Then away, etc. + + If our masters won’t supply us + With money, food, and clothing, + Let the State look to’t, + We’ll find one that will do’t, + Let him live—we will not damn. + Then away, etc. + + + +SAINT GEORGE AND THE DRAGON, +ANGLICE MERCURIUS POETICUS. + + +“The following ballad,” says Mr Wright in the Political Ballads of the +Commonwealth, published for the Percy Society, “was written on the +occasion of the overthrow of the Rump by Monck. He arrived in London on +the third of February, and professed himself a determined supporter of +the party then uppermost. On the ninth and tenth he executed their +orders against the city; but suddenly on the eleventh he joined the city +and the Presbyterian party, and demanded the readmission of the members +who were secluded formerly from the Long Parliament. This measure put an +end to the reign of the Rump, and immediately afterwards the Parliament +dissolved itself, and a new one was called.—(February 28th, 1659.)”—All +the notes to this Ballad are from the pen of Mr Wright. + + To the tune of “The Old Courtier of the Queen’s,” etc. + + NEWS! news! here’s the occurrences and a new Mercurius, + A dialogue betwixt Haselrigg the baffled and Arthur the furious; + With Ireton’s {50} readings upon legitimate and spurious, + Proving that a saint may be the son of a whore, for the satisfaction + of the curious. + From a Rump insatiate as the sea, + Libera nos, Domine. + + Here’s the true reason of the citie’s infatuation, + Ireton has made it drunk with the cup of abomination; + That is, the cup of the whore, after the Geneva Interpretation, + Which with the juyce of Titchburn’s grapes {51} must needs cause + intoxication. + From a Rump, etc. + + Here’s the Whipper whipt by a friend to George, that whipp’d Jack, + {52} that whipp’d the breech, + That whipp’d the nation as long as it could stand over it—after which + It was itself re-jerk’d by the sage author of this speech: + “Methinks a Rump should go as well with a Scotch spur as with a + switch.” + From a Rump, etc. + + This Rump hath many a rotten and unruly member; + “Give the generall the oath!” cries one (but his conscience being a + little tender); + “I’ll abjure you with a pestilence!” quoth George, “and make you + remember + The ’leaventh of February {53} longer than the fifth of November!” + From a Rump, etc. + + With that, Monk leaves (in Rump assembled) the three estates, + But oh! how the citizens hugg’d him for breaking down their gates, + For tearing up their posts and chaynes, and for clapping up their + mates {54} + (When they saw that he brought them plasters for their broken pates). + From a Rump, etc. + + In truth this ruffle put the town in great disorder, + Some knaves (in office) smiled, expecting ’twould go furder; + But at the last, “My life on’t! George is no Rumper,” said the + Recorder, + “For there never was either honest man or monk of that order.” + From a Rump, etc. + + And so it proved; for, “Gentlemen,” says the general, “I’ll make you + amends; + Our greeting was a little untoward, but we’ll part friends; + A little time shall show you which way my design tends, + And that, besides the good of Church and State, I have no other ends.” + From a Rump, etc. + + His Excellence had no sooner pass’d this declaration and promise, + But in steps Secretary Scot, the Rump’s man Thomas, + With Luke, their lame evangelist (the Devil keep ’um from us!) {55} + To shew Monk what precious members of Church and State the Bumm has. + From a Rump, etc. + + And now comes the supplication of the members under the rod: + “Nay, my Lord!” cryes the brewer’s clerk; “good, my Lord, for the love + of God! + Consider yourself, us, and this poor nation, and that tyrant abroad; + Don’t leave us:”—but George gave him a shrugg instead of a nodd. + From a Rump, etc. + + This mortal silence was followed with a most hideous noyse, + Of free Parliament bells and Rump-confounding boyes, + Crying, “Cut the rogues! singe their tayles!” when, with a low voyce, + “Fire and sword! by this light,” cryes Tom, “Lets look to our toyes!” + From a Rump, etc. + + Never were wretched members in so sad a plight; + Some were broyl’d, some toasted, others burnt outright; {56} + Nay against Rumps so pittylesse was their rage and spite, + That not a citizen would kisse his wife that night. + From a Rump, etc. + + By this time death and hell appear’d in the ghastly looks + Of Scot and Robinson (those legislative rooks); + And it must needs put the Rump most damnably off the hooks + To see that when God has sent meat the Devil should send cooks. + From a Rump, etc. + + But Providence, their old friend, brought these saints off at last, + And through the pikes and the flames undismember’d they past, + Although (God wet) with many struglings and much hast,— + For, members, or no members, was but a measuring cast. + From a Rump, etc. + + Being come to Whitehall, there’s the dismal mone, + “Let Monk be damn’d!” cries Arthur in a terrible tone {57}— + “That traytor, and those cuckoldy rogues that set him on!” + (But tho’ the knight spits blood, ’tis observed that he draws none.) + From a Rump, etc. + + “The plague bawle you!” cries Harry Martin, “you have brought us to + this condition, {58} + You must be canting and be plagued, with your Barebones petition, {59} + And take in that bull-headed, splay-footed member of the circumcision, + That bacon-faced Jew, Corbet, {60} that son of perdition!” + From a Rump, etc. + + Then in steps driv’ling Mounson to take up the squabble, + That lord which first taught the use of the woodden dagger and ladle: + {61} + He that out-does Jack Pudding {62} at a custard or a caudle, + And were the best foole in Europe but that he wants a bauble. + From a Rump, etc. + + More was said to little purpose,—the next news is, a declaration + From the Rump, for a free state according to the covenant of the + nation, + And a free Parliament under oath and qualification, + Where none shall be elect but members of reprobation. + From a Rump, &c. + + Here’s the tail firk’d, a piece acted lately with great applause, + With a plea for the prerogative breech and the Good old Cause, + Proving that Rumps and members are antienter than laws, + And that a bumme divided is never the worse for the flawes. + From a Rump, etc. + + But all things have their period and fate, + An Act of Parliament dissolves a Rump of state, + Members grow weak, and tayles themselves run out of date, + And yet thou shalt not dye (dear breech), thy fame I’ll celebrate. + From a Rump, etc. + + Here lies a pack of saints that did their souls and country sell + For dirt, the Devil was their good lord, him they served well; + By his advice they stood and acted, and by his president they fell + (Like Lucifer), making but one step betwixt heaven and hell. + From a Rump insatiate as the sea + Liberasti nos, Domine. + + + +THE SECOND PART OF ST GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. + + + To the tune of “To drive the cold winter away.” + (March 7, 1659.) + + NOW the Rump is confounded + There’s an end of the Roundhead, + Who hath been such a bane to our nation; + He hath now play’d his part, + And’s gone out like a f—, + Together with his reformation; + For by his good favour + He hath left a bad savour; + But’s no matter, we’ll trust him no more. + Kings and queens may appear + Once again in our sphere, + Now the knaves are turn’d out of door, + And drive the cold winter away. + + Scot, Nevil, and Vane, + With the rest of that train, + Are into Oceana {63} fled; + Sir Arthur the brave, + That’s as arrant a knave, + Has Harrington’s Rota in’s head; {64} + But hee’s now full of cares + For his foals and his mares, + As when he was routed before; + But I think he despairs, + By his arms or his prayers, + To set up the Rump any more, + And drive the cold winter away. + + I should never have thought + That a monk could have wrought + Such a reformation so soon; + That House which of late + Was the jakes of our state + Will ere long be a house of renown. + How good wits did jump + In abusing the Rump, + Whilst the House was prest by the rabble; + But our Hercules, Monk, + Though it grievously stunk, + Now hath cleansed that Augean stable, + And drive the cold winter away. + + And now Mr Prynne {65} + With the rest may come in, + And take their places again; + For the House is made sweet + For those members to meet, + Though part of the Rump yet remain; + Nor need they to fear, + Though his breeches be there, + Which were wrong’d both behind and before; + For he saith ’twas a chance, + And forgive him this once, + And he swears he will do so no more, + And drive the cold winter away. + + ’Tis true there are some + Who are still for the Bum; + Such tares will grow up with the wheat; + And there they will be, till a Parliament come + That can give them a total defeat. + But yet I am told + That the Rumpers do hold + That the saints may swim with the tyde; + Nor can it be treason, + But Scripture and reason, + Still to close with the stronger side, + And drive the cold winter away. + + Those lawyers o’ th’ House— + As Baron Wild-goose, {66} + With Treason Hill, Whitlock, and Say— + Were the bane of our laws + And our Good old Cause, + And ’twere well if such were away. + Some more there are to blame, + Whom I care not to name, + That are men of the very same ranks; + ’Mongst whom there is one, + That to Devil Barebone + For his ugly petition gave thanks, + And drive the cold winter away. + + But I hope by this time + He’ll confess ’twas a crime + To abet such a damnable crew; + Whose petition was drawn + By Alcoran Vane, + Or else by Corbet the Jew. {67} + By it you may know + What the Rump meant to do, + And what a religion to frame; + So ’twas time for St George + That Rump to disgorge, + And to send it from whence it first came; + Then drive the cold winter away. + + + +A NEW-YEAR’S GIFT FOR THE RUMP. + + + (January 1659–60.)—From a broadside, vol. xv. in the King’s Pamphlets. + + “The condition of the State was thus: viz. the Rump, after being + disturbed by my Lord Lambert, was lately returned to sit again. The + officers of the army all forced to yield. Lawson lies still in the + river, and Monk is with his army in Scotland. Only my Lord Lambert + is not yet come in to the Parliament, nor is it expected that he will + without being forced to it. The new Common Council of the city do + speak very high; and had sent to Monk their sword-bearer to acquaint + him with their desires for a free and full Parliament, which is at + present the desires, and the hopes, and the expectations of all. + Twenty-two of the old secluded members having been at the House-door + the last week to demand entrance, but it was denied them; and it is + believed that neither they nor the people will be satisfied till the + House be filled.” Pepys’ Diary, January, 1660. + + YOU may have heard of the politique snout, + Or a tale of a tub with the bottom out, + But scarce of a Parliament in a dirty clout, + Which no body can deny. + + ’Twas Atkins {68} first served this Rump in with mustard— + The sauce was a compound of courage and custard; + Sir Vane bless’d the creature, Noll snuffled and bluster’d, + Which no body can deny. + + The right was as then in old Oliver’s nose; + But when the Devil of that did dispose, + It descended from thence to the Rump in the close, + Which no body can deny. + + Nor is it likely there to stay long, + The retentive faculties being gone, + The juggle is stale, and money there’s none, + Which no body can deny. + + The secluded members made a trial + To enter, but them the Rump did defy all + By the ordinance of self-denial, + Which no body can deny. + + Our politique doctors do us teach + That a blood-sucking red-coat’s as good as a leech + To relieve the head, if applied to the breech, + Which no body can deny. + + But never was such a worm as Vane; + When the State scour’d last, it voided him then, + Yet now he’s crept into the Rump again, + Which no body can deny. + + Ludlow’s f— was a prophetique trump {69} + (There never was anything so jump), + ’Twas the very type of a vote of this Rump, + Which no body can deny. + + They say ’tis good luck when a body rises + With the rump upward, but he that advises + To live in that posture is none of the wisest, + Which no body can deny. + + The reason is worse, though the rime be untoward, + When things proceed with the wrong end forward; + But they say there’s sad news to the Rump from the Nor’ward; {70} + Which no body can deny. + + ’Tis a wonderfull thing, the strength of that part; + At a blast it will take you a team from a cart, + And blow a man’s head away with a f—, + Which no body can deny. + + When our brains are sunck below the middle, + And our consciences steer’d by the hey-down-diddle, + Then things will go round without a fiddle, + Which no body can deny. + + You may order the city with hand-granado, + Or the generall with a bastonado,— + But no way for a Rump like a carbonado, + Which no body can deny. + + To make us as famous in council as wars, + Here’s Lenthal a speaker for mine— + And Fleetwood is a man of Mars, + Which no body can deny. + + ’Tis pitty that Nedham’s {71} fall’n into disgrace, + For he orders a bum with a marvellous grace, + And ought to attend the Rump by his place, + Which no body can deny. + + Yet this in spight of all disasters, + Although he hath broken the heads of his masters, + ’Tis still his profession to give ’em all plasters, + Which no body can deny. + + The Rump’s an old story, if well understood; + ’Tis a thing dress’d up in a Parliament’s hood, + And like ’t, but the tayl stands where the head should, + Which no body can deny. + + ’Twould make a man scratch where it does not itch, + To see forty fools’ heads in one politique breech, + And that, hugging the nation, as the devil did the witch; + Which no body can deny. + + From rotten members preserve our wives! + From the mercy of a Rump, our estates and our lives! + For they must needs go whom the Devil drives, + Which no body can deny. + + + +A PROPER NEW BALLAD ON THE OLD PARLIAMENT; +OR, +THE SECOND PART OF KNAVE OUT OF DOORS. + + + To the tune of + + “Hei ho, my honey, my heart shall never rue, + Four-and-twenty now for your mony, and yet a hard penny-worth too.” + + (Dec. 11th, 1659.)—From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. + + “The events which gave occasion to the following ballad,” says Mr T. + Wright in his Political Ballads, published for the Percy Society, + “may be summed up in a few words. After the death of Cromwell, his + son Richard was without opposition raised to the Protectorate; but + his weak and easy character gave an opening to the intrigues of the + Royalists, and the factious movement of the Republican party. + Fleetwood, who had been named commander-in-chief of the army under + the Protector, plotted to gain the chief power in the State, and was + joined by Lambert, Desborough, and others. The Republicans were + strengthened by the return of Vane, Ludlow, and Bradshaw, to the + Parliament called by the new Protector. Lambert, the Protector’s + brother-in-law, was the ostensible head of a party, and seems to have + aimed at obtaining the power which had been held by Oliver. They + formed a council of officers, who met at Wallingford House; and on + the 20th April, 1659, having gained the upper hand, and having + obtained the dissolution of the Parliament, they determined to + restore the old Long Parliament, which they said had only been + interrupted, and not legally dissolved, and to set aside the + Protector, who soon afterwards resigned. On the 21st April, + Lenthall, the old Speaker, with as many members of the Long + Parliament as could be brought together, met in the House, and opened + their session. The Parliament thus formed, as being the fag-end of + the old Long Parliament, obtained the name of the Rump Parliament. + Lambert’s hopes and aims were raised by his success against Sir + George Booth in the August following, and jealousies soon arose + between his party in the army and the Rump. The Parliament would + have dismissed him, and the chief officers in the cabal with him, but + Lambert with the army in October hindered their free meeting, and + took the management of the government into the hands of a council of + officers, whom they called the Committee of Safety. Towards the + latter end of the year, the tide began to be changed in favour of the + Parliament, by the declaration of Monk in Scotland, Henry Cromwell + with the army in Ireland, and Hazelrigge and the officers at + Portsmouth, in favour of the freedom of the Parliament. This ballad + was written at the period when Lambert’s party was uppermost.” + +The tune of “Hei ho, my honey,” may be found in Playford’s edition of +“The English Dancing Master,” printed in 1686, but in no earlier edition +of the same work. + + GOOD-MORROW, my neighbours all, what news is this I heard tell + As I past through Westminster-hall by the House that’s neck to hell? + They told John Lambert {72} was there with his bears, and deeply he + swore + (As Cromwell had done before) those vermin should sit there no more. + Sing hi ho, Wil. Lenthall, {73} who shall our general be? + For the House to the Devil is sent all, and follow, good faith, mun + ye! + Sing hi ho, my honey, my heart shall never rue, + Here’s all pickt ware for the money, and yet a hard pennyworth too. + + Then, Muse, strike up a sonnet, come, piper, and play us a spring, + For now I think upon it, these R’s turn’d out their King; + But now is come about, that once again they must turn out, + And not without justice and reason, that every one home to his prison. + Sing hi ho, Harry Martin, {74} a burgess of the bench, + There’s nothing here is certain, you must back and leave your + wench. + Sing, hi ho, etc. + + He there with the buffle head is called lord and of the same House, + Who (as I have heard it said) was chastised by his ladye spouse; + Because he ran at sheep, she and her maid gave him the whip, + And beat his head so addle, you’d think he had a knock in the cradle. + Sing hi ho, Lord Munson, {75} you ha’ got a park of the King’s; + One day you’l hang like a hounson, for this and other things, + Sing hi, ho, etc. + + It was by their master’s orders at first together they met, + Whom piously they did murder, and since by their own they did set. + The cause of this disaster is ’cause they were false to their master; + Nor can they their gens-d’armes blame for serving them the same. + Sing hi ho, Sir Arthur, {76} no more in the House you shall prate; + For all you kept such a quarter, {77} you are out of the councell + of state. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Old Noll once gave them a purge (forgetting OCCIDISTI), + (The furies be his scourge!) so of the cure must he; + And yet the drug he well knew it, for he gave it to Dr Huit; {78} + Had he given it them, he had done it, and they had not turn’d out his + son yet; + Sing hi ho, brave Dick, Lenthall, and Lady Joane, + Who did against lovalty kick is now for a new-year’s gift gone. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + For had Old Noll been alive, he had pull’d them out by the ears, + Or else had fired their hive, and kickt them down the staires; + Because they were so bold to vex his righteous soul, + When he so deeply had swore that there they should never sit more. + But hi ho, Noll’s dead, and stunk long since above ground, + Though lapt in spices and lead that cost us many a pound. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Indeed, brother burgess, your ling did never stink half so bad, + Nor did your habberdin when it no pease-straw had; + Ye both were chose together, ’cause ye wore stuff cloaks in hard + weather, + And Cambridge needs would have a burgess fool and knave. + Sing hi ho, John Lowry, {79} concerning habberdin, + No member spake before ye, yet you ne’re spoke againe. + Sing hi, ho, etc. + + Ned Prideaux {80} he went post to tell the Protector the news, + That Fleetwood ruld the rost, having tane off Dicke’s shoes. + And that he did believe, Lambert would him deceive + As he his brother had gull’d, and Cromwell Fairfax bull’d. + Sing hi ho, the attorney was still at your command; + In flames together burn ye, still dancing hand in hand! + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Who’s that would hide his face, and his neck from the collar pull? + He must appear in this place, if his cap be made of wool. + Who is it? with a vengeance! it is the good Lord St Johns, {81} + Who made God’s house to fall, to build his own withall. + Sing hi ho, who comes there? who ’tis I must not say; + But by his dark lanthorn, I sweare he’s as good in the night as + day. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Edge, brethren, room for one that looks as big as the best; + ’Tis pity to leave him alone, for he is as good as the rest; + No picklock of the laws, he builds among the daws, + If you ha’ any more kings to murder, for a President look no further. + Sing hi ho, John Bradshaw, in blood none further engages; + The Devil from whom he had’s law, will shortly pay him his wages. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Next, Peagoose Wild, {82} come in to show your weesle face, + And tell us Burley’s sin, whose blood bought you your place; + When loyalty was a crime, he lived in a dangerous time, + Was forced to pay his neck to make you baron of the cheque. + Sing hi ho, Jack Straw, we’ll put it in the margent, + ’Twas not for justice or law that you were made a sergeant. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Noll served not Satan faster, nor with him did better accord; + For he was my good master, and the Devil was his good lord. + Both Slingsby, Gerard, and Hewet, {83} were sure enough to go to it, + According to his intent, that chose me President. + Sing hi ho, Lord Lisle, {84} sure law had got a wrench, + And where was justice the while, when you sate on the bench. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Next comes the good Lord Keble, of the Triumvirate, + Of the seal in the law but feeble, though on the bench he sate; + For when one puts him a case, I wish him out of the place, + And, if it were not a sin, an able lawyer in. + Sing, give the seal about, I’de have it so the rather, + Because we might get out the knave, my lord, my father. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Pull out the other three, it is Nathaniel Fines {85} + (Who Bristol lost for fear), we’ll not leave him behind’s; + ’Tis a chip of that good old block, who to loyalty gave the first + knock, + Then stole away to Lundey, whence the foul fiend fetches him one day. + Sing hi ho, canting Fines, you and the rest to mend ’um, + Would ye were served in your kinds with an _ense rescidendum_. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + He that comes down-stairs, is Lord Chief Justice Glin; {86} + If no man for him cares, he cares as little again: + The reason too I know’t, he helpt cut Strafford’s throat, + And take away his life, though with a cleaner knife. + Sing hi ho, Britain bold, straight to the bar you get, + Where it is not so cold as where your justice set. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + He that will next come in, was long of the Council of State, + Though hardly a hair on his chin when first in the council he sate; + He was sometime in Italy, and learned their fashions prettily, + Then came back to’s own nation, to help up reformation. + Sing hi ho, Harry Nevil, {87} I prythee be not too rash + With atheism to court the Divel, you’re too bold to be his bardash. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + He there with ingratitude blackt is one Cornelius Holland, {88} + Who, but for the King’s house, lackt wherewith to appease his colon; + The case is well amended since that time, as I think, + When at court gate he tended with a little stick and a short link. + Sing hi ho, Cornelius, your zeal cannot delude us; + The reason pray now tell ye us why thus you play’d the Judas. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + At first he was a grocer who now we Major call, + Although you would think no, Sir, if you saw him in Whitehall, + Where he has great command, and looks for cap in hand, + And if our eggs be not addle, shall be of the next new moddel. + Sing hi ho, Mr Salloway, {89} the Lord in heaven doth know + When that from hence you shall away, where to the Devil you’l go. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Little Hill, {90} since set in the House, is to a mountain grown; + Not that which brought forth the mouse, but thousands the year of his + own. + The purchase that I mean, where else but at Taunton Dean; + Five thousand pounds per annum, a sum not known to his grannam. + Sing hi, the Good old Cause, {91} ’tis old enough not true + You got more by that then the laws, so a good old cause to you. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Master Cecil, {92} pray come behind, because on your own accord + The other House you declined, you shall be no longer a lord; + The reason, as I guess, you silently did confess, + Such lords deserved ill the other House to fill. + Sing hi ho, Mr Cecil, your honour now is gone; + Such lords are not worth a whistle, we have made better lords of + our own. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Luke Robinson {93} shall go before ye, that snarling northern tyke; + Be sure he’ll not adore ye, for honour he doth not like; + He cannot honour inherit, and he knows he can never merit, + And therefore he cannot bear it that any one else should wear it. + Sing hi ho, envious lown, you’re of the beagle’s kind, + Who always bark’d at the moon, because in the dark it shined. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + ’Tis this that vengeance rouses, that, while you make long prayers, + You eat up widows’ houses, and drink the orphan’s tears; + Long time you kept a great noise, of God and the Good old Cause; + But if God to you be so kind, then I’me of the Indian’s mind. + Sing hi ho, Sir Harry, {94} we see, by your demeanour, + If longer here you tarry, you’ll be Sir Harry Vane, Senior. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Now if your zeal do warme ye, pray loud for fairer weather; + Swear to live and die with the army, for these birds are flown + together; + The House is turn’d out a doe, (and I think it was no sin, too); + If we take them there any more, we’ll throw the House out of the + window. + Sing hi ho, Tom Scot, {95} you lent the Devil your hand; + I wonder he helpt you not, but suffred you t’ be trapand. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + They’re once again conduced, and we freed from the evil + To which we long were used; God blesse us next from the Devil! + If they had not been outed the array had been routed, + And then this rotten Rump had sat until the last trump. + But, hi ho, Lambert’s here, the Protector’s instrument bore, + And many there be who swear that he will do it no more. + Sing hi ho, etc. + + Come here, then, honest Peters, {96} say grace for the second course, + So long as these your betters must patience have upon force, + Long time he kept a great noise with God and the Good old Cause, + But if God own such as these, then where’s the Devil’s fees? + Sing hi ho, Hugo, I hear thou art not dead; + Where now to the Devil will you go, your patrons being fled? + Sing hi ho, my honey, my heart shall never rue, + Four-and-twenty now for a penny, and into the bargain Hugh. + + + +THE TALE OF THE COBBLER AND THE VICAR OF BRAY. + + + Rara est concordia fratrum. Ovid. + + By Samuel Butler. + +The “Sir Samuel” of this Ballad is the same person—Sir Samuel Luke of +Bedfordshire—who is supposed to have been the unconscious model of the +portrait which is drawn so much more fully in the inimitable Hudibras. +Ralph is also the well-known Squire in the same poem. The Ballad, though +published in Butler’s “Posthumous Works,” 1724, was rejected by Thyer in +the edition of 1784, and is not included in the “Genuine Remains,” +published from the original manuscripts, formerly in the possession of +William Longueville, Esq. If not by Butler, it is a successful imitation +of his style, and abounds in phrases of sturdy colloquial English, and is +of a date long anterior to the popular song, “The Vicar of Bray.” + + IN Bedfordshire there dwelt a knight, + Sir Samuel by name, + Who by his feats in civil broils + Obtain’d a mighty fame. + + Nor was he much less wise and stout, + But fit in both respects + To humble sturdy Cavaliers, + And to support the sects. + + This worthy knight was one that swore + He would not cut his beard + Till this ungodly nation was + From kings and bishops clear’d: + + Which holy vow he firmly kept, + And most devoutly wore + A grizly meteor on his face + Till they were both no more. + + His worship was, in short, a man + Of such exceeding worth, + No pen or pencil can describe, + Or rhyming bard set forth. + + Many and mighty things he did + Both sober and in liquor,— + Witness the mortal fray between + The Cobbler and the Vicar; + + Which by his wisdom and his power + He wisely did prevent, + And both the combatants at once + In wooden durance pent. + + The manner how these two fell out + And quarrell’d in their ale, + I shall attempt at large to show + In the succeeding tale. + + A strolling cobbler, who was wont + To trudge from town to town, + Happen’d upon his walk to meet + A vicar in his gown. + + And as they forward jogg’d along, + The vicar, growing hot, + First asked the cobbler if he knew + Where they might take a pot? + + Yes, marry that I do, quoth he; + Here is a house hard by, + That far exceeds all Bedfordshire + For ale and landlady. + + Thither let’s go, the vicar said; + And when they thither came, + He liked the liquor wondrous well, + But better far the dame. + + And she, who, like a cunning jilt, + Knew how to please her guest, + Used all her little tricks and arts + To entertain the priest. + + The cobbler too, who quickly saw + The landlady’s design, + Did all that in his power was + To manage the divine. + + With smutty jests and merry songs + They charm’d the vicar so, + That he determined for that night + No further he would go. + + And being fixt, the cobbler thought + ’Twas proper to go try + If he could get a job or two + His charges to supply. + + So going out into the street, + He bawls with all his might,— + If any of you tread awry + I’m here to set you right. + + I can repair your leaky boots, + And underlay your soles; + Backsliders, I can underprop + And patch up all your holes. + + The vicar, who unluckily + The cobbler’s outcry heard, + From off the bench on which he sat + With mighty fury rear’d. + + Quoth he, What priest, what holy priest + Can hear this bawling slave, + But must, in justice to his coat, + Chastise the saucy knave? + + What has this wretch to do with souls, + Or with backsliders either, + Whose business only is his awls, + His lasts, his thread, and leather? + + I lose my patience to be made + This strolling varlet’s sport; + Nor could I think this saucy rogue + Could serve me in such sort. + + The cobbler, who had no design + The vicar to displease, + Unluckily repeats again,— + I’m come your soals to ease: + + The inward and the outward too + I can repair and mend; + And all that my assistance want, + I’ll use them like a friend. + + The country folk no sooner heard + The honest cobbler’s tongue, + But from the village far and near + They round about him throng. + + Some bring their boots, and some their shoes, + And some their buskins bring: + The cobbler sits him down to work, + And then begins to sing. + + Death often at the cobbler’s stall + Was wont to make a stand, + But found the cobbler singing still, + And on the mending hand; + + Until at length he met old Time, + And then they both together + Quite tear the cobbler’s aged sole + From off the upper leather. + + Even so a while I may old shoes + By care and art maintain, + But when the leather’s rotten grown + All art and care is vain. + + And thus the cobbler stitched and sung, + Not thinking any harm; + Till out the angry vicar came + With ale and passion warm. + + Dost thou not know, vile slave! quoth he, + How impious ’tis to jest + With sacred things, and to profane + The office of a priest? + + How dar’st thou, most audacious wretch! + Those vile expressions use, + Which make the souls of men as cheap + As soals of boots and shoes? + + Such reprobates as you betray + Our character and gown, + And would, if you had once the power, + The Church itself pull down. + + The cobbler, not aware that he + Had done or said amiss, + Reply’d, I do not understand + What you can mean by this. + + Tho’ I but a poor cobbler be, + And stroll about for bread, + None better loves the Church than I + That ever wore a head. + + But since you are so good at names, + And make so loud a pother, + I’ll tell you plainly I’m afraid + You’re but some cobbling brother. + + Come, vicar, tho’ you talk so big, + Our trades are near akin; + I patch and cobble outward soals + As you do those within. + + And I’ll appeal to any man + That understands the nation, + If I han’t done more good than you + In my respective station. + + Old leather, I must needs confess, + I’ve sometimes used as new, + And often pared the soal so near + That I have spoil’d the shoe. + + You vicars, by a different way, + Have done the very same; + For you have pared your doctrines so + You made religion lame. + + Your principles you’ve quite disown’d, + And old ones changed for new, + That no man can distinguish right + Which are the false or true. + + I dare be bold, you’re one of those + Have took the Covenant; + With Cavaliers are Cavalier, + And with the saints a saint. + + The vicar at this sharp rebuke + Begins to storm and swear; + Quoth he, Thou vile apostate wretch! + Dost thou with me compare? + + I that have care of many souls, + And power to damn or save, + Dar’st thou thyself compare with me, + Thou vile, ungodly knave! + + I wish I had thee somewhere else, + I’d quickly make thee know + What ’tis to make comparisons, + And to revile me so. + + Thou art an enemy to the State, + Some priest in masquerade, + That, to promote the Pope’s designs, + Has learnt the cobbling trade: + + Or else some spy to Cavaliers, + And art by them sent out + To carry false intelligence, + And scatter lies about. + + But whilst the vicar full of ire + Was railing at this rate, + His worship, good Sir Samuel, + O’erlighted at the gate. + + And asking of the landlady + Th’ occasion of the stir; + Quoth she, If you will give me leave + I will inform you, Sir. + + 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. + + Go, seize them, Ralph, and bring them in, + That I may know the cause, + That first induced them to this rage, + And thus to break the laws. + + Ralph, who was both his squire and clerk, + And constable withal, + I’ th’ name o’ th’ Commonwealth aloud + Did for assistance bawl. + + The words had hardly pass’d his mouth + But they secure them both; + And Ralph, to show his furious zeal + And hatred to the cloth, + + Runs to the vicar through the crowd, + And takes him by the throat: + How ill, says he, doth this become + Your character and coat! + + Was it for this not long ago + You took the Covenant, + And in most solemn manner swore + That you’d become a saint? + + And here he gave him such a pinch + That made the vicar shout,— + Good people, I shall murder’d be + By this ungodly lout. + + He gripes my throat to that degree + I can’t his talons bear; + And if you do not hold his hands, + He’ll throttle me, I fear. + + At this a butcher of the town + Steps up to Ralph in ire,— + What, will you squeeze his gullet through, + You son of blood and fire? + + You are the Devil’s instrument + To execute the laws; + What, will you murther the poor man + With your phanatick claws? + + At which the squire quits his hold, + And lugging out his blade, + Full at the sturdy butcher’s pate + A furious stroke he made. + + A dismal outcry then began + Among the country folk; + Who all conclude the butcher slain + By such a mortal stroke. + + But here good fortune, that has still + A friendship for the brave, + I’ th’ nick misguides the fatal blow, + And does the butcher save. + + The knight, who heard the noise within, + Runs out with might and main, + And seeing Ralph amidst the crowd + In danger to be slain, + + Without regard to age or sex + Old basket-hilt so ply’d, + That in an instant three or four + Lay bleeding at his side. + + And greater mischiefs in his rage + This furious knight had done, + If he had not prevented been + By Dick, the blacksmith’s son, + + Who catch’d his worship on the hip, + And gave him such a squelch, + That he some moments breathless lay + Ere he was heard to belch. + + Nor was the squire in better case, + By sturdy butcher ply’d, + Who from the shoulder to the flank + Had soundly swinged his hide. + + Whilst things in this confusion stood, + And knight and squire disarm’d, + Up comes a neighbouring gentleman + The outcry had alarm’d; + + Who riding up among the crowd, + The vicar first he spy’d, + With sleeveless gown and bloody band + And hands behind him ty’d. + + Bless me, says he, what means all this? + Then turning round his eyes, + In the same plight, or in a worse, + The cobbler bleeding spies. + + And looking further round he saw, + Like one in doleful dump, + The knight, amidst a gaping mob, + Sit pensive on his rump. + + And by his side lay Ralph his squire, + Whom butcher fell had maul’d; + Who bitterly bemoan’d his fate, + And for a surgeon call’d. + + Surprised at first he paused awhile, + And then accosts the knight,— + What makes you here, Sir Samuel, + In this unhappy plight? + + At this the knight gave’s breast a thump, + And stretching out his hand,— + If you will pull me up, he cried, + I’ll try if I can stand. + + And then I’ll let you know the cause; + But first take care of Ralph, + Who in my good or ill success + Doth always stand my half. + + In short, he got his worship up + And led him in the door; + Where he at length relates the tale + As I have told before. + + When he had heard the story out, + The gentleman replies,— + It is not in my province, sir, + Your worship to advise. + + But were I in your worship’s place, + The only thing I’d do, + Was first to reprimand the fools, + And then to let them go. + + I think it first advisable + To take them from the rabble, + And let them come and both set forth + The occasion of the squabble. + + This is the Vicar, Sir, of Bray, + A man of no repute, + The scorn and scandal of his tribe, + A loose, ill-manner’d brute. + + The cobbler’s a poor strolling wretch + That mends my servants’ shoes; + And often calls as he goes by + To bring me country news. + + At this his worship grip’d his beard, + And in an angry mood, + Swore by the laws of chivalry + That blood required blood. + + Besides, I’m by the Commonwealth + Entrusted to chastise + All knaves that straggle up and down + To raise such mutinies. + + However, since ’tis your request, + They shall be call’d and heard; + But neither Ralph nor I can grant + Such rascals should be clear’d. + + And so, to wind the tale up short, + They were call’d in together; + And by the gentlemen were ask’d + What wind ’twas blew them thither. + + Good ale and handsome landladies + You might have nearer home; + And therefore ’tis for something more + That you so far are come. + + To which the vicar answer’d first,— + My living is so small, + That I am forced to stroll about + To try and get a call. + + And, quoth the cobbler, I am forced + To leave my wife and dwelling, + T’ escape the danger of being press’d + To go a colonelling. + + There’s many an honest jovial lad + Unwarily drawn in, + That I have reason to suspect + Will scarce get out again. + + The proverb says, _Harm watch harm catch_, + I’ll out of danger keep, + For he that sleeps in a whole skin + Doth most securely sleep. + + My business is to mend bad soals + And stitch up broken quarters: + A cobbler’s name would look but odd + Among a list of martyrs. + + Faith, cobbler, quoth the gentleman, + And that shall be my case; + I will neither party join, + Let what will come to pass. + + No importunities or threats + My fixt resolves shall rest; + Come here, Sir Samuel, where’s his health + That loves old England best. + + I pity those unhappy fools + Who, ere they were aware, + Designing and ambitious men + Have drawn into a snare. + + But, vicar, to come to the case,— + Amidst a senseless crowd, + What urged you to such violence, + And made you talk so loud? + + Passion I’m sure does ill become + Your character and cloath, + And, tho’ the cause be ne’er so just, + Brings scandal upon both. + + Vicar, I speak it with regret, + An inadvertent priest + Renders himself ridiculous, + And every body’s jest. + + The vicar to be thus rebuked + A little time stood mute; + But having gulp’d his passion down, + Replies,—That cobbling brute + + Has treated me with such contempt, + Such vile expressions used, + That I no longer could forbear + To hear myself abused. + + The rascal had the insolence + To give himself the lie, + And to aver h’ had done more good + And saved more soals than I. + + Nay, further, Sir, this miscreant + To tell me was so bold, + Our trades were very near of kin, + But his was the more old. + + Now, Sir, I will to you appeal + On such a provocation, + If there was not sufficient cause + To use a little passion? + + Now, quoth the cobbler, with your leave, + I’ll prove it to his face, + All this is mere suggestion, + And foreign to the case. + + And since he calls so many names + And talks so very loud, + I will be bound to make it plain + ’Twas he that raised the crowd. + + Nay, further, I will make ’t appear + He and the priests have done + More mischief than the cobblers far + All over Christendom. + + All Europe groans beneath their yoke, + And poor Great Britain owes + To them her present miseries, + And dread of future woes. + + The priests of all religions are + And will be still the same, + And all, tho’ in a different way, + Are playing the same game. + + At this the gentleman stood up,— + Cobbler, you run too fast; + By thus condemning all the tribe + You go beyond your last. + + Much mischief has by priests been done, + And more is doing still; + But then to censure all alike + Must be exceeding ill. + + Too many, I must needs confess, + Are mightily to blame, + Who by their wicked practices + Disgrace the very name. + + But, cobbler, still the major part + The minor should conclude; + To argue at another rate’s + Impertinent and rude. + + By this time all the neighbours round + Were flock’d about the door, + And some were on the vicar’s side, + But on the cobbler’s more. + + Among the rest a grazier, who + Had lately been at town + To sell his oxen and his sheep, + Brim-full of news came down. + + Quoth he, The priests have preach’d and pray’d, + And made so damn’d a pother, + That all the people are run mad + To murther one another. + + By their contrivances and arts + They’ve play’d their game so long, + That no man knows which side is right, + Or which is in the wrong. + + I’m sure I’ve Smithfield market used + For more than twenty year, + But never did such murmurings + And dreadful outcries hear. + + Some for a church, and some a tub, + And some for both together; + And some, perhaps the greater part, + Have no regard for either. + + Some for a king, and some for none; + And some have hankerings + To mend the Commonwealth, and make + An empire of all kings. + + What’s worse, old Noll is marching off, + And Dick, his heir-apparent, + Succeeds him in the government, + A very lame vicegerent. + + He’ll reign but little time, poor fool, + But sink beneath the State, + That will not fail to ride the fool + ’Bove common horseman’s weight. + + And rulers, when they lose the power, + Like horses overweigh’d, + Must either fall and break their knees, + Or else turn perfect jade. + + The vicar to be twice rebuked + No longer could contain; + But thus replies,—To knaves like you + All arguments are vain. + + The Church must use her arm of flesh, + The other will not do; + The clergy waste their breath and time + On miscreants like you. + + You are so stubborn and so proud, + So dull and prepossest, + That no instructions can prevail + How well soe’er addrest. + + Who would reform such reprobates, + Must drub them soundly first; + I know no other way but that + To make them wise or just. + + Fie, vicar, fie, his patron said, + Sure that is not the way; + You should instruct your auditors + To suffer or obey. + + Those were the doctrines that of old + The learned fathers taught; + And ’twas by them the Church at first + Was to perfection brought. + + Come, vicar, lay your feuds aside, + And calmly take your cup; + And let us try in friendly wise + To make the matter up. + + That’s certainly the wiser course, + And better too by far; + All men of prudence strive to quench + The sparks of civil war. + + By furious heats and ill advice + Our neighbours are undone, + Then let us timely caution take + From their destruction. + + If we would turn our heads about, + And look towards forty-one, + We soon should see what little jars + Those cruel wars begun. + + A one-eyed cobbler then was one + Of that rebellious crew, + That did in Charles the martyr’s blood + Their wicked hands imbrue. + + I mention this not to deface + This cobbler’s reputation, + Whom I have always honest found, + And useful in his station. + + But this I urge to let you see + The danger of a fight + Between a cobbler and a priest, + Though he were ne’er so right. + + The vicars are a numerous tribe, + So are the cobblers too; + And if a general quarrel rise, + What must the country do? + + Our outward and our inward soals + Must quickly want repair; + And all the neighbourhood around + Would the misfortune share. + + Sir, quoth the grazier, I believe + Our outward soals indeed + May quickly want the cobbler’s help + To be from leakings freed. + + But for our inward souls, I think + They’re of a worth too great + To be committed to the care + Of any holy cheat, + + Who only serves his God for gain, + Religion is his trade; + And ’tis by such as these our Church + So scandalous is made. + + Why should I trust my soul with one + That preaches, swears, and prays, + And the next moment contradicts + Himself in all he says? + + His solemn oaths he looks upon + As only words of course! + Which like their wives our fathers took + For better or for worse. + + But he takes oaths as some take w—s, + Only to serve his ease; + And rogues and w—s, it is well known, + May part whene’er they please. + + At this the cobbler bolder grew, + And stoutly thus reply’d,— + If you’re so good at drubbing, Sir, + Your manhood shall be try’d. + + What I have said I will maintain, + And further prove withal— + I daily do more good than you + In my respective call. + + I know your character, quoth he, + You proud insulting vicar, + Who only huff and domineer + And quarrel in your liquor. + + The honest gentleman, who saw + ’Twould come again to blows, + Commands the cobbler to forbear, + And to the vicar goes. + + Vicar, says he, for shame give o’er + And mitigate your rage; + You scandalize your cloth too much + A cobbler to engage. + + All people’s eyes are on your tribe, + And every little ill + They multiply and aggravate + And will because they will. + + But now let’s call another cause, + So let this health go round; + Be peace and plenty, truth and right, + In good old England found. + + Quoth Ralph, All this is empty talk + And only tends to laughter; + If these two varlets should be spared, + Who’d pity us hereafter? + + Your worship may do what you please, + But I’ll have satisfaction + For drubbing and for damages + In this ungodly action. + + I think that you can do no less + Than send them to the stocks; + And I’ll assist the constable + In fixing in their hocks. + + There let ’em sit and fight it out, + Or scold till they are friends; + Or, what is better much than both, + Till I am made amends. + + Ralph, quoth the knight, that’s well advised, + Let them both hither go, + And you and the sub-magistrate + Take care that it be so. + + Let them be lock’d in face to face, + Bare buttocks on the ground; + And let them in that posture sit + Till they with us compound. + + Thus fixt, well leave them for a time, + Whilst we with grief relate, + How at a wake this knight and squire + Got each a broken pate. + + + +THE GENEVA BALLAD. + + + From Samuel Butler’s Posthumous Works. + + OF all the factions in the town + Moved by French springs or Flemish wheels, + None turns religion upside down, + Or tears pretences out at heels, + Like _Splaymouth_ with his brace of caps, + Whose conscience might be scann’d perhaps + By the dimensions of his chaps; + + He whom the sisters do adore, + Counting his actions all divine, + Who when the spirit hints can roar, + And, if occasion serves, can whine; + Nay, he can bellow, bray, or bark; + Was ever _sike a Beauk-learn’d_ clerk + That speaks all linguas of the ark? + + To draw the hornets in like bees, + With pleasing twangs he tones his prose; + He gives his handkerchief a squeeze, + And draws John Calvin thro’ his nose; + Motive on motive he obtrudes, + With slip-stocking similitudes, + Eight uses more, and so concludes. + + When monarchy began to bleed, + And treason had a fine new name; + When Thames was balderdash’d with Tweed, + And pulpits did like beacons flame; + When Jeroboam’s calves were rear’d, + And Laud was neither loved nor fear’d, + This gospel-comet first appear’d. + + Soon his unhallow’d fingers stript + His sovereign-liege of power and land; + And, having smote his master, slipt + His sword into his fellow’s hand; + But he that wears his eyes may note + Oft-times the butcher binds a goat, + And leaves his boy to cut her throat. + + Poor England felt his fury then + Outweigh’d Queen Mary’s many grains; + His very preaching slew more men + Than Bonnar’s faggots, stakes, and chains: + With dog-star zeal, and lungs like Boreas, + He fought, and taught, and, what’s notorious, + Destroy’d his Lord to make him glorious. + + Yet drew for King and Parliament, + As if the wind could stand north-south; + Broke Moses’ law with blest intent, + Murther’d, and then he wiped his mouth: + Oblivion alters not his case, + Nor clemency nor acts of grace + Can blanch an Ethiopian’s face. + + Ripe for rebellion, he begins + To rally up the saints in swarms; + He bawls aloud, Sir, leave your sins, + But whispers, Boys, stand to your arms: + Thus he’s grown insolently rude, + Thinking his gods can’t be subdued— + _Money_, I mean, and _multitude_. + + Magistrates he regards no more + Than St George or the King of Colon, + Vowing he’ll not conform before + The old wives wind their dead in woollen: + He calls the bishop gray-hair’d coff, + And makes his power as mere a scoff + As Dagon when his hands were off. + + Hark! how he opens with full cry, + Halloo, my hearts, beware of Rome! + Cowards that are afraid to die + Thus make domestic brawls at home. + How quietly great Charles might reign, + Would all these Hotspurs cross the main + And preach down Popery in Spain. + + The starry rule of Heaven is fixt, + There’s no dissension in the sky; + And can there be a mean betwixt, + Confusion and conformity? + A place divided never thrives, + ’Tis bad when hornets dwell in hives, + But worse when children play with knives. + + I would as soon turn back to mass, + Or change my praise to _Thee_ and _Thou_; + Let the Pope ride me like an ass, + And his priests milk me like a cow! + As buckle to Smectymnian laws, + The bad effects o’ th’ Good old Cause, + That have dove’s plumes, but vulture’s claws. + + For ’twas the holy Kirk that nursed, + The Brownists and the ranters’ crew; + Foul error’s motley vesture first + Was oaded {98} in a northern blue; + And what’s th’ enthusiastick breed, + Or men of Knipperdolin’s creed, + But Cov’nanters run up to seed! + + Yet they all cry they love the King, + And make boast of their innocence: + There cannot be so vile a thing + But may be cover’d with pretence; + Yet when all’s said, one thing I’ll swear, + No subject like th’ old Cavalier, + No traytor like _Jack-Presbyter_. + + + +THE DEVIL’S PROGRESS ON EARTH, +OR +HUGGLE DUGGLE. + + + From Durfey’s “Pills to Purge Melancholy.” + + _Frier Bacon_ walks again, + And Doctor _Forster_ {99} too; + _Prosperine_ and _Pluto_, + And many a goblin crew: + With that a merry devil, + To make the _Airing_, vow’d; + Huggle Duggle, Ha! ha! ha! + The Devil laugh’d aloud. + + Why think you that he laugh’d? + Forsooth he came from court; + And there amongst the gallants + Had spy’d such pretty sport; + There was such cunning jugling, + And ladys gon so proud; + Huggle Duggle, etc. + + With that into the city + Away the Devil went; + To view the merchants’ dealings + It was his full intent: + And there along the brave Exchange + He crept into the croud. + Huggle Duggle, etc. + + He went into the city + To see all there was well; + Their scales were false, their weights were light, + Their conscience fit for hell; + And _Panders_ chosen magistrates, + And _Puritans_ allow’d. + Huggle Duggle, etc. + + With that unto the country + Away the Devil goeth; + For there is all plain dealing, + For that the Devil knoweth: + But the rich man reaps the gains + For which the poor man plough’d. + Huggle Duggle, etc. + + With that the Devil in haste + Took post away to hell, + And call’d his fellow furies, + And told them all on earth was well: + That falsehood there did flourish, + Plain dealing was in a cloud. + Huggle Duggle, Ha! ha! ha! + The devils laugh’d aloud. + + + +A BOTTLE DEFINITION OF THAT FALLEN ANGEL, CALLED A WHIG. + + +From a collection of Historical and State Poems, Satyrs, Songs, and +Epigrams, by Ned Ward, A. D. 1717. + + WHAT is a Whig? A cunning rogue + That once was in, now out of vogue: + A rebel to the Church and throne, + Of Lucifer the very spawn. + + A tyrant, who is ne’er at rest + In power, or when he’s dispossess’d; + A knave, who foolishly has lost + What so much blood and treasure cost. + + A lying, bouncing desperado, + A bomb, a stink-pot, a granado; + That’s ready primed, and charged to break, + And mischief do for mischief’s sake: + + A comet, whose portending phiz + Appears more dreadful than it is; + But now propitious stars repel + Those ills it lastly did fortel. + + ’Twill burst with unregarded spight, + And, since the Parliament proves right, + Will turn to smoke, which shone of late + So bright and flaming in the State. + + + +THE DESPONDING WHIG. + + + From Ned Ward’s Works, vol. iv. 1709. + + WHEN owles are strip’d of their disguise, + And wolves of shepherd’s cloathing, + Those birds and beasts that please our eyes + Will then beget our loathing; + When foxes tremble in their holes + At dangers that they see, + And those we think so wise prove fools, + Then low, boys, down go we. + + If those designs abortive prove + We’ve been so long in hatching, + And cunning knaves are forced to move + From home for fear of catching; + The rabble soon will change their tone + When our intrigues they see, + And cry God save the Church and Throne, + Then low, boys, down go we. + + The weaver then no more must leave + His loom and turn a preacher, + Nor with his cant poor fools deceive + To make himself the richer. + Our leaders soon would disappear + If such a change should be, + Our scriblers too would stink for fear, + Then low, boys, down go we. + + No canvisars would dare to shew + Their postures and grimaces, + Or proph’sy what they never knew, + By dint of ugly faces. + But shove the tumbler through the town, + And quickly banish’d be, + For none must teach without a gown, + Then low, boys, down go we. + + If such unhappy days should come, + Our virtue, moderation, + Would surely be repaid us home + With double compensation; + For as we never could forgive, + I fear we then should see + That what we lent we must receive, + Then low, boys, down go we. + + Should honest brethren once discern + Our knaveries, they’d disown us, + And bubbl’d fools more wit should learn, + The Lord have mercy on us; + Let’s guard against that evil day, + Least such a time should be, + And tackers should come into play, + Then low, boys, down go we. + + Tho’ hitherto we’ve play’d our parts + Like wary cunning foxes, + And gain’d the common people’s hearts + By broaching het’rodoxes,— + But they’re as fickle as the winds, + With nothing long agree, + And when they change their wav’ring minds, + Then low, boys, down go we. + + Let’s preach and pray, but spit our gall + On those that do oppose us, + And cant of grace, in spite of all + The shame the Devil owes us: + The just, the loyal, and the wise + With us shall Papists be, + For if the _High Church_ once should rise, + Then, _Low Church_, down go we. + + + +PHANATICK ZEAL, +OR +A LOOKING-GLASS FOR THE WHIGS. + + + From a Collection of 180 Loyal Songs. + Tune, “A Swearing we will go.” + + WHO would not be a Tory + When the loyal are call’d so: + And a Whig now is known + To be the nation’s foe? + So a Tory I will be, will be, + And a Tory I will be. + + With little band precise, + Hair Presbyterian cut, + Whig turns up hands and eyes + Though smoking hot from slut. + So a Tory I will be, etc. + + Black cap turn’d up with white, + With wolfish neck and face, + And mouth with nonsense stuft, + Speaks Whig a man of grace, + And a Tory I will be, etc. + + The sisters go to meetings + To meet their gallants there; + And oft mistake for my Lord, + And snivel out my dear. + And a Tory I will be, etc. + + Example, we do own, + Than precept better is; + For Creswell she was safe, + When she lived a private Miss. + And a Tory I will be, etc. + + The Whigs, though ne’er so proud, + Sometimes have been as low, + For there are some of note + Have long a raree-show. + And a Tory I will be, etc. + + These mushrooms now have got + Their champion turn-coat hick; + But if the naked truth were known + They’re assisted by old Nick. + And a Tory I will be, etc. + + To be and to be not + At once is in their power; + For when they’re in, they’re guilty, + But clear when out o’ the tower. + And a Tory I will be, etc. + + To carry their designs, + Though ’t contradicts their sense; + They’re clear a Whiggish traytor + Against clear evidence. + And a Tory I will be, etc. + + The old proverb doth us tell, + Each dog will have his day; + And Whig has had his too, + For which he’ll soundly pay; + And a Tory I will be, etc. + + For bodkins and for thimbles + Now let your tubsters cant; + Their confounded tired cause + Had never yet more want. + So a Tory I will be, etc. + + For ignoramus Toney + Has left you in the lurch; + And you have spent your money, + So, faith, e’en come to Church; + For a Tory I will be, etc. + + They are of no religion, + Be it spoken to their glories, + For St Peter and St Paul + With them both are Tories; + And a Tory I will be, etc. + + They’re excellent contrivers, + I wonder what they’re not, + For something they can make + Of nothing and a plot. + And a Tory I will be, etc. + + But now your holy cheat + Is known throughout the nation; + And a Whig is known to be + A thing quite out of fashion. + And a Tory I will be, etc. + + + +A NEW GAME AT CARDS: +OR, +WIN AT FIRST AND LOSE AT LAST. + + +A popular ballad, written immediately after the restoration of Charles +II.; and in which the victorious Cavaliers render honour to General Monk, +Duke of Albemarle. + + Tune, “Ye gallants that delight to play.” + + YE merry hearts that love to play + At cards, see who hath won the day; + You that once did sadly sing + The knave of clubs hath won the king; + Now more happy times we have, + The king hath overcome the knave. + + Not long ago a game was play’d, + When three crowns at the stakes were laid; + England had no cause to boast, + Knaves won that which kings had lost: + Coaches gave the way to carts, + And clubs were better cards than hearts. + + Old Noll was the knave o’ clubs, + And dad of such as preach in tubs; + Bradshaw, Ireton, and Pride + Were three other knaves beside; + And they play’d with half the pack, + Throwing out all cards but black. + + But the just Fates threw these four out, + Which made the loyal party shout; + The Pope would fain have had the stock, + And with these cards have whipt his dock. + But soon the Devil these cards snatches + To dip in brimstone, and make matches. + + But still the sport for to maintain, + Bold Lambert, Haslerigg, and Vane, + With one-eyed Hewson, took their places, + Knaves were better cards than aces; + But Fleetwood he himself did save, + Because he was more fool than knave. + + Cromwell, though he so much had won, + Yet he had an unlucky son; + He sits still, and not regards, + Whilst cunning gamesters set the cards; + And thus, alas! poor silly Dick, + He play’d awhile, and lost his trick. + + The Rumpers that had won whole towns, + The spoils of martyrs and of crowns, + Were not contented, but grew rough, + As though they had not won enough; + They kept the cards still in their hands, + To play for tithes and college lands. + + The Presbyters began to fret + That they were like to lose the sett; + Unto the Rump they did appeal, + And said it was their turn to deal; + Then dealt with Presbyterians, but + The army swore that they would cut. + + The foreign lands began to wonder, + To see what gallants we lived under, + That they, which Christians did forswear, + Should follow gaming all the year,— + Nay more, which was the strangest thing, + To play so long without a king. + + The bold phanatics present were, + Like butlers with their boxes there, + Not doubting but that every game + Some profit would redound to them; + Because they were the gamesters’ minions, + And every day broach’d new opinions. + + But Cheshire men (as stories say) + Began to show them gamester’s play; + Brave Booth and all his army strives + To save the stakes, or lose their lives; + But, oh sad fate! they were undone + By playing of their cards too soon. + + Thus all the while a club was trump, + There’s none could ever beat the Rump, + Until a noble general came, + And gave the cheaters a clear slam; + His finger did outwit their noddy, + And screw’d up poor Jack Lambert’s body. + + Then Haslerigg began to scowl, + And said the general play’d foul. + Look to him, partners, for I tell ye, + This Monk has got a king in’s belly. + Not so, quoth Monk, but I believe + Sir Arthur has a knave in’s sleeve. + + When General Monk did understand + The Rump were peeping into’s hand, + He wisely kept his cards from sight, + Which put the Rump into a fright; + He saw how many were betray’d + That show’d their cards before they play’d. + + At length, quoth he, some cards we lack, + I will not play with half a pack; + What you cast out I will bring in, + And a new game we will begin: + With that the standers-by did say + They never yet saw fairer play. + + But presently this game was past, + And for a second knaves were cast; + All new cards, not stain’d with spots, + As was the Rumpers and the Scots,— + Here good gamesters play’d their parts + And turn’d up the king of hearts. + + After this game was done, I think + The standers-by had cause to drink, + And all loyal subjects sing, + Farewell knaves, and welcome King; + For, till we saw the King return’d, + We wish’d the cards had all been burn’d. + + + +THE CAVALEERS LITANY. + + + (March 25th, 1660.)—From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. + + FROM pardons which extend to woods, + Entitle thieves to keep our goods, + Forgive our rents as well as bloods, + God bless, etc. + + From judges who award that none + Of our oppressours should attone + (The losses sure were not their own), + God bless, etc. + + From Christians which can soon forget + Our injuries, but not one bit + Of self-concernment would remit, + God bless, etc. + + From duresse, and their dolefull tale, + Who, famisht by a lawless sale, + Compounded it for cakes and ale, + God bless, etc. + + From persons still to tread the stage, + Who did the drudgeries of our age + (Such counsells are, I fear, too sage), + God bless, etc. + + From maximes which (to make all sure) + With great rewards the bad allure, + ’Cause of the good they are secure, + God bless, etc. + + From cunning gamesters, who, they say, + Are sure to winne, what-e’re they play; + In April Lambert, Charles in May, + God bless, etc. + + From neuters and their leven’d lump, + Who name the King and mean the Rump, + Or care not much what card is trump, + God bless, etc. + + From midnight-birds, who lye at catch + Some plume from monarchy to snatch, + And from fond youths that cannot watch, + God bless, etc. + + From brethren who must still dissent, + Whose froward gospell brooks no Lent, + And who recant, but ne’er repent, + God bless, etc. + + From Levites void of truth and shame, + Who to the time their pulpits frame, + And keep the style but change the name, + God bless, etc. + + From men by heynous crimes made rich, + Who (though their hopes are in the ditch) + Have still th’ old fornicatours itch, + God bless, etc. + + From such as freely paid th’ arrears + Of the State-troops for many years, + But grudge one tax for Cavaleers, + God bless, etc. + + + +THE SECOND PART. + + + A CROWN of gold without allay, + Not here provided for one day, + But framed above to last for aye! + God send, etc. + + A Queen to fill the empty place, + And multiply his noble race, + Wee all beseech the throne of grace + To send, etc. + + A people still as true and kind + As late (when for their King they pin’d), + Not fickle as the tide or wild, + God send, etc. + + A fleet like that in fifty-three, + To re-assert our power at sea, + And make proud Flemings bend their knee, + God send, etc. + + Full magazines and cash in store, + That such as wrought his fate before + May hope to do the same no more, + God send, etc. + + A searching judgement to divine, + Of persons whether they do joyn + For love, for fear, or for design, + God send, etc. + + A well-complexion’d Parliament, + That shall (like Englishmen) resent + What loyall subjects underwent, + God send, etc. + + Review of statutes lately past, + Made in such heat, pen’d in such hast, + That all events were not forecast, + God send, etc. + + Dispatch of businesse, lawes upright, + And favour where it stands with right, + (Be their purses ne’er so light), + God send, etc. + + A raven to supply their need, + Whose martyrdom (like noble seed) + Sprung up at length and choak’t the weed, + God send, etc. + + The King and kingdom’s debts defray’d, + And those of honest men well pay’d, + To which their vertue them betray’d, + God send, etc. + + Increase of customes to the King + May our increase of traffick bring, + ’Tis that will make the people sing + Long live, etc. + +London, printed for Robert Crofts, at the Crown, in Chancery Lane, 1661. + + + +THE CAVALIER’S COMPLAINT. + + +This and the following ballad, from the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum, +express the discontent of the Cavaliers at the ingratitude of King +Charles to the old supporters of the fortunes of his family.—(March 15th, +1660.) + + To the tune of “I tell thee, Dick.” + + COME, Jack, let’s drink a pot of ale, + And I shall tell thee such a tale + Will make thine ears to ring; + My coyne is spent, my time is lost, + And I this only fruit can boast, + That once I saw my King. + + But this doth most afflict my mind: + I went to Court in hope to find + Some of my friends in place; + And walking there, I had a sight + Of all the crew, but, by this light! + I hardly knew one face. + + ’S’life! of so many noble sparkes, + Who on their bodies bear the markes + Of their integritie; + And suffer’d ruine of estate, + It was my damn’d unhappy fate + That I not one could see. + + Not one, upon my life, among + My old acquaintance all along + At Truro and before; + And I suppose the place can show + As few of those whom thou didst know + At Yorke or Marston-moore. + + But truly there are swarmes of those + Who lately were our chiefest foes, + Of pantaloons and muffes; + Whilst the old rusty Cavaleer + Retires, or dares not once appear, + For want of coyne and cuffes. + + When none of these I could descry, + Who better far deserv’d then I, + Calmely I did reflect; + “Old services (by rule of State) + Like almanacks grow out of date,— + What then can I expect?” + + Troth! in contempt of Fortune’s frown, + I’ll get me fairly out of town, + And in a cloyster pray; + That since the starres are yet unkind + To Royalists, the King may find + More faithfull friends than they. + + + +AN ECHO TO THE CAVALIER’S COMPLAINT. + + + I MARVEL, Dick, that having been + So long abroad, and having seen + The world as thou hast done, + Thou should’st acquaint mee with a tale + As old as Nestor, and as stale + As that of Priest and Nunne. {100} + + Are we to learn what is a Court? + A pageant made for fortune’s sport, + Where merits scarce appear; + For bashfull merit only dwells + In camps, in villages, and cells; + Alas! it dwells not there. + + Desert is nice in its addresse, + And merit ofttimes doth oppresse + Beyond what guilt would do; + But they are sure of their demands + That come to Court with golden hands, + And brazen faces, too. + + The King, they say, doth still professe + To give his party some redresse, + And cherish honestie; + But his good wishes prove in vain, + Whose service with his servants’ gain + Not alwayes doth agree. + + All princes (be they ne’er so wise) + Are fain to see with others’ eyes, + But seldom hear at all; + And courtiers find their interest + In time to feather well their nest, + Providing for their fall. + + Our comfort doth on time depend, + Things when they are at worst will mend; + And let us but reflect + On our condition th’ other day, + When none but tyrants bore the sway, + What did we then expect? + + Meanwhile a calm retreat is best, + But discontent (if not supprest) + Will breed disloyaltie; + This is the constant note I sing, + I have been faithful to the King, + And so shall ever be. + +London, printed for Robert Crofts, at the Crown, in Chancery Lane, 1661. + + + +A RELATION. + + +Of Ten grand infamous Traytors, who, for their horrid murder and +detestable villany against our late soveraigne Lord King Charles the +First, that ever blessed martyr, were arraigned, tryed, and executed in +the moneth of October, 1660, which in perpetuity will be had in +remembrance unto the world’s end. + +This is one of the Six Ballads of the Restoration found in a trunk, and +sent by Sir W. C. Trevelyan to the British Museum. “No measure threw +more disgrace on the Restoration,” says Mr Wright, “than the prosecution +of the regicides; and the heartless and sanguinary manner in which it was +conducted tended more than any other circumstance to open the eyes of the +people to the real character of the government to which they had been +betrayed.” Pepys observes on the 20th Oct., “A bloody week this and the +last have been; there being ten hanged, drawn, and quartered.” + + The tune is “Come let us drinke, the time invites.” + + HEE that can impose a thing, + And shew forth a reason + For what was done against the King, + From the palace to the prison; + Let him here with me recite, + For my pen is bent to write + The horrid facts of treason. + + Since there is no learned scribe + Nor arithmaticion + Ever able to decide + The usurp’d base ambition, + Which in truth I shall declare, + Traytors here which lately were, + Who wanted a phisitian. + + For the grand disease that bred + Nature could not weane it; + From the foot unto the head, + Was putrefacted treason in it; + Doctors could no cure give, + Which made the squire then beleeve + That he must first begin it. + + And the phisick did compose, + Within a pound of reason; + First to take away the cause, + Then to purge away the treason, + With a dosse of hemp made up, + Wrought as thickly as a rope, + And given them in due season. + + The doctors did prescribe at last + To give ’um this potation, + A vomit or a single cast, + Well deserved, in purgation; + After that to lay them downe, + And bleed a veine in every one, + As traytors of the nation. + + So when first the physicke wrought, + The thirteenth of October, {101} + The patient on a sledge was brought, + Like a rebell and a rover, + To the execution tree; + Where with much dexterity + Was gently turned over. + + +THE SECOND PART. + + + To the same tune. + + MONDAY was the fifteenth day, + As Carew then did follow, {102} + Of whom all men I thinke might say + In tyranny did deeply wallow; + Traytor proved unto the King, + Which made him on the gallowes swing, + And all the people hallow. + + Tuesday, after Peters, Cooke, {103} + Two notorious traytors, + That brought our soveraigne to the blocke, + For which were hang’d and cut in quarters; + ’Twas Cooke which wrought the bloody thing + To draw the charge against our King, + That ever blessed martyr. + + Next, on Wednesday, foure came, + For murthur all imputed, + There to answer for the same, + Which in judgement were confuted. + Gregorie Clement, Jones, and Scot, + And Scroop together, for a plot, {104} + Likewise were executed. + + Thursday past, and Friday then, + To end the full conclusion, + And make the traytors just up ten, + That day were brought to execution, + Hacker and proud Axtell he, {105} + At Tyburne for their treachery + Received their absolution. + + Being against the King and States, + The Commons all condemn’d ’um, + And their quarters on the gates + Hangeth for a memorandum + ’Twixt the heavens and the earth; + Traytors are so little worth, + To dust and smoake wee’l send ’um. + + Let now October warning make + To bloody-minded traytors, + That never phisicke more they take, + For in this moneth they lost their quarters; + Being so against the King, + Which to murther they did bring, + The ever blessed martyr. + +London, printed for Fr. Coles, T. Vere, M. Wright, and W. Gilbertson. + + + +THE GLORY OF THESE NATIONS; + + +OR, KING AND PEOPLES HAPPINESSE. BEING A BRIEF RELATION OF KING +CHARLES’S ROYALL PROGRESSE FROM DOVER TO LONDON, HOW THE LORD GENERALL +AND THE LORD MAYOR, WITH ALL THE NOBILITY AND GENTRY OF THE LAND, BROUGHT +HIM THOROW THE FAMOUS CITY OF LONDON TO HIS PALLACE AT WESTMINSTER, THE +29TH OF MAY LAST, BEING HIS MAJESTIES BIRTH-DAY, TO THE GREAT COMFORT OF +HIS LOYALL SUBJECTS. + +One of the six curious broadsides found by Sir W. C. Trevelyan in the +lining of a trunk, and now in the British Museum. + +The new Parliament met on the twenty-fifth of April, and on the first of +May the King’s letter from Breda was read, and the Restoration determined +by a vote of the House. The King immediately repaired to the coast, and, +after meeting with some obstruction from the roughness of the weather, +went on board the _Nazeby_ on the 23rd of May. On the 25th he landed at +Dover. He made his entry into London on the 29th. + + To the tune of “When the King enjoys his own again.” + + WHERE’S those that did prognosticate, + And did envy fair England’s state, + And said King Charles no more should reign? + Their predictions were but in vain, + For the King is now return’d, + For whom fair England mourn’d; + His nobles royally him entertain. + Now blessed be the day! + Thus do his subjects say, + That God hath brought him home again. + + The twenty-second of lovely May + At Dover arrived, fame doth say, + Where our most noble generall + Did on his knees before him fall, + Craving to kiss his hand, + So soon as he did land. + Royally they did him entertain, + With all their pow’r and might, + To bring him to his right, + And place him in his own again. + + Then the King, I understand, + Did kindly take him by the hand + And lovingly did him embrace, + Rejoycing for to see his face. + Hee lift him from the ground + With joy that did abound, + And graciously did him entertain; + Rejoycing that once more + He was o’ th’ English shore, + To enjoy his own in peace again. + + From Dover to Canterbury they past, + And so to Cobham-hall at last; + From thence to London march amain, + With a triumphant and glorious train, + Where he was received with joy, + His sorrow to destroy, + In England once more for to raign; + Now all men do sing, + God save Charles our King, + That now enjoyes his own again. + + At Deptford the maidens they + Stood all in white by the high-way + Their loyalty to Charles to show, + They with sweet flowers his way to strew. + Each wore a ribbin blew, + They were of comely hue, + With joy they did him entertain, + With acclamations to the skye + As the King passed by, + For joy that he receives his own again. + + In Wallworth-fields a gallant band + Of London ’prentices did stand, + All in white dublets very gay, + To entertain King Charles that day, + With muskets, swords, and pike; + I never saw the like, + Nor a more youthfull gallant train; + They up their hats did fling, + And cry, “God save the King! + Now he enjoys his own again.” + + At Newington-Buts the Lord Mayor willed + A famous booth for to be builded, + Where King Charles did make a stand, + And received the sword into his hand; + Which his Majesty did take, + And then returned back + Unto the Mayor with love again. + A banquet they him make, + He doth thereof partake, + Then marcht his triumphant train. + + The King with all his noblemen, + Through Southwark they marched then; + First marched Major Generall Brown, {106} + Then Norwich Earle of great renown, {107} + With many a valiant knight + And gallant men of might, + Richly attired, marching amain, + There Lords Mordin, Gerard, and + The good Earle of Cleavland, {108} + To bring the King to his own again. + + Near sixty flags and streamers then + Was born before a thousand men, + In plush coats and chaines of gold, + These were most rich for to behold; + With every man his page, + The glory of his age; + With courage bold they marcht amain, + Then with gladnesse they + Brought the King on his way + For to enjoy his own again. + + Then Lichfields and Darbyes Earles, {109} + Two of fair England’s royall pearles; + Major Generall Massey then + Commanded the life guard of men, + The King for to defend, + If any should contend, + Or seem his comming to restrain; + But also joyfull were + That no such durst appear, + Now the King enjoyes his own again. + + Four rich maces before them went, + And many heralds well content; + The Lord Mayor and the generall + Did march before the King withall. + His brothers on each side + Along by him did ride; + The Southwark-waits did play amain, + Which made them all to smile + And to stand still awhile, + And then they marched on again. + + Then with drawn swords all men did side, + And flourishing the same, then cryed, + “Charles the Second now God save, + That he his lawfull right may have! + And we all on him attend, + From dangers him to defend, + And all that with him doth remain. + Blessed be God that we + Did live these days to see, + That the King enjoyes his own again!” + + The bells likewise did loudly ring, + Bonefires did burn and people sing; + London conduits did run with wine, + And all men do to Charles incline; + Hoping now that all + Unto their trades may fall, + Their famylies for to maintain, + And from wrong be free, + ’Cause we have liv’d to see + The King enjoy his own again. + + London, printed for Charles Tyns, on London Bridge. + + + +THE NOBLE PROGRESS, +OR, +A TRUE RELATION OF THE LORD +GENERAL MONK’S POLITICAL +PROCEEDINGS. + + +The Noble Progresse, or a True Relation of the Lord General Monk’s +Political Proceedings with the Rump, the calling in the secluded Members, +their transcendant vote for his sacred Majesty, with his reception at +Dover, and royal conduct through the City of London to his famous Palace +at Whitehall. One of the broadsides in the British Museum, found in the +lining of an old trunk by Sir W. C. Trevelyan. + + Tune—“When first the Scottish wars began.” + + GOOD people, hearken to my call, + I’le tell you all what did befall + And hapned of late; + Our noble valiant General Monk + Came to the Rump, who lately stunk + With their council of state. + Admiring what this man would doe, + His secret mind there’s none could know, + They div’d into him as much as they could,— + George would not be won with their silver nor gold: + The sectarian saints at this lookt blew, + With all the rest of the factious crew, + They vapour’d awhile, and were in good hope, + But now they have nothing left but the rope. + + Another invention then they sought, + Which long they wrought for to be brought + To claspe him with they; + Quoth Vane and Scot, I’le tell you what, + Wee’l have a plot and he shall not, + Wee’l carry the sway: + Let’s vote him a thousand pound a yeare, + And Hampton Court for him and his Heire. + Indeed, quoth George, ye’re Free Parliament men + To cut a thong out of another man’s skin. + The sectarian, etc. + + They sent him then with all his hosts + To break our posts and raise our ghosts, + Which was their intent; + To cut our gates and chain all downe + Unto the ground—this trick they found + To make him be shent: + This plot the Rump did so accord + To cast an odium on my lord, + But in the task he was hard put untoo’t, + ’Twas enough to infect both his horse and his foot, + The sectarian, etc. + + But when my lord perceived that night + What was their spight, he brought to light + Their knaveries all; + This Parliament of forty-eight, + Which long did wait, came to him straight, + To give them a fall, + And some phanatical people knew + That George would give them their fatall due; + Indeed he did requite them agen, + For he pul’d the Monster out of his den. + The sectarian, etc. + + To the House our worthy Parliament + With good intent they boldly went + To vote home the King, + And many hundred people more + Stood at the doore, and waited for + Good tidings to bring; + Yet some in the House had their hands much in blood, + And in great opposition like traytors they stood; + But yet I believe it is very well known + That those that were for him were twenty to one. + But the sectarian, etc. + + They call’d the League and Covenant in + To read again to every man; + But what comes next? + All sequestrations null be void, + The people said none should be paid, + For this was the text. + For, as I heard all the people say, + They voted King Charles the first of May; + Bonfires burning, bells did ring, + And our streets did echo with God bless ye King. + At this the sectarian, etc. + + Our general then to Dover goes, + In spite of foes or deadly blowes, + Saying Vive le Roy; + And all the glories of the land, + At his command they there did stand + In triumph and joy. + Good Lord, what a sumptuous sight ’twas to see + Our good Lord General fall on his knee + To welcome home his Majestie, + And own his sacred sovereignty. + But the sectarian, etc. + + When all the worthy noble train + Came back again with Charlemain, + Our sovereign great: + The Lord Mayor in his scarlet gown, + His chain so long, went through the town + In pompe and state. + The livery-men each line the way + Upon this great triumphant day; + Five rich maces carried before, + And my Lord himselfe the sword he bore. + Then Vive le Roy the gentry did sing, + For General Monk rode next to the King; + With acclamations, shouts, and cryes, + I thought they would have rent the skyes. + + The conduits, ravished with joy, + As I may say, did run all day + Great plenty of wine; + And every gentleman of note + In’s velvet coat that could be got + In glory did shine. + There were all the peeres and barrons bold, + Richly clad in silver and gold, + Marched through the street so brave, + No greater pompe a king could have. + At this, the sacristan, etc. + + And thus conducted all along + Throughout the throng, still he did come + Unto White Hall; + Attended by those noble-men, + Bold heroes’ kin that brought him in + With the geneall; + Who was the man that brought him home + And placed him on his royal throne;— + ’Twas General Monk did doe the thing, + So God preserve our gracious King, + Now the sacristan, etc. + + + +ON THE KING’S RETURN. + + + By Alex. Brome. + + LONG have we waited for a happy end + Of all our miseries and strife;— + But still in vain;—the swordmen did intend + To make them hold for term of life: + That our distempers might be made + Their everlasting livelihood and trade. + + They entail their swords and guns, + And pay, which wounded more, + Upon their daughters and their sons, + Thereby to keep us ever poor. + + But when the Civil Wars were past, + They civil government invade, + To make our taxes and our slavery last, + Both to their titles and their trade. + + But now we are redeem’d from all + By our indulgent King, + Whose coming does prevent our fall, + With loyal and with joyful hearts we’ll sing: + + CHORUS, + + Welcome, welcome, royal May, + Welcome, long-desired Spring. + Many Springs and Mays we’ve seen, + Have brought forth what’s gay and green; + But none is like this glorious day, + Which brings forth our gracious King. + + + +THE BRAVE BARBARY. + + + A Ballad by Alex. Brome. + + OLD England is now a brave Barbary made, + And every one has an ambition to ride her; + King Charles was a horseman that long used the trade, + But he rode in a snaffle, and that could not guide her. + + Then the hungry Scot comes with spur and with switch, + And would teach her to run a Geneva career; + His grooms were all Puritan, Traytor, and Witch, + But she soon threw them down with their pedlary geer. + + The Long Parliament next came all to the block, + And they this untameable palfrey would ride; + But she would not bear all that numerous flock, + At which they were fain themselves to divide. + + Jack Presbyter first gets the steed by the head, + While the reverend Bishops had hold of the bridle; + Jack said through the nose they their flockes did not feed, + But sat still on the beast and grew aged and idle. + + And then comes the Rout, with broom-sticks inspired, + And pull’d down their graces, their sleeves, and their train; + And sets up Sir Jack, who the beast quickly tyr’d + With a journey to Scotland and thence back again. + + Jack rode in a doublet, with a yoke of prick-ears, + A cursed splay-mouth and a Covenant spur, + Rides switching and spurring with jealousies and fears, + Till the poor famish’d beast was not able to stir. + + Next came th’ Independent—a dev’lish designer, + And got himself call’d by a holier name— + Makes Jack to unhorse, for he was diviner, + And would make her travel as far’s Amsterdam. + + But Nol, a rank-rider, gets first in the saddle, + And made her show tricks, and curvate, and rebound; + She quickly perceived that he rode widdle waddle, + And like his coach-horses threw his Highness to ground. + + Then Dick, being lame, rode holding by the pummel, + Not having the wit to get hold of the rein; + But the jade did so snort at the sight of a Cromwell, + That poor Dick and his kindred turn’d footmen again. + + Next Fleetwood and Vane with their rascally pack, + Would every one put their feet in the stirrup; + But they pull’d the saddle quite off of her back, + And were all got under her before they were up. + + At last the King mounts her, and then she stood still; + As his Bucephalus, proud of this rider, + She cheerfully yields to his power and skill + Who is careful to feed her, and skilful to guide her. + + + +A CATCH. + + + By Alex. Brome. A.D. 1660. + + LET’S leave off our labour, and now let’s go play, + For this is our time to be jolly; + Our plagues and our plaguers are both fled away, + To nourish our griefs is but folly: + He that won’t drink and sing + Is a traytor to’s King, + And so he that does not look twenty years younger; + We’ll look blythe and trim + With rejoicing at him + That is the restorer and will be the prolonger + Of all our felicity and health, + The joy of our hearts, and increase of our wealth. + ’Tis he brings our trading, our trading brings riches, + Our riches brings honour, at which every mind itches, + And our riches bring sack, and our sack brings us joy, + And our joy makes us leap and sing, + Vive le Roy! + + + +THE TURN-COAT. + + + By Samuel Butler. 1661. + +Several lines in this song were incorporated in the better-known ballad +of the Vicar of Bray, said by Nichols in his Select Poems to have been +written by a soldier in Colonel Fuller’s troop of dragoons, in the reign +of George I. Butler’s ballad, though unpublished, must therefore have +been known at the time. + + To the tune of “London is a fine town.” + + I LOVED no King since forty-one, + When Prelacy went down; + A cloak and band I then put on + And preach’d against the crown. + A turn-coat is a cunning man + That cants to admiration, + And prays for any king to gain + The people’s approbation. + + I show’d the paths to heaven untrod, + From Popery to refine ’em, + And taught the people to serve God, + As if the Devil were in ’em. + A turn-coat, etc. + + When Charles return’d into our land, + The English Church supporter, + I shifted off my cloak and band, + And so became a courtier. + A turn-coat, etc. + + The King’s religion I profest, + And found there was no harm in ’t; + I cogg’d and flatter’d like the rest, + Till I had got preferment. + A turn-coat, etc. + + I taught my conscience how to cope + With honesty or evil; + And when I rail’d against the Pope + I sided with the Devil. + A turn-coat, etc. + + + +THE CLARET DRINKER’S SONG, +OR +THE GOOD FELLOW’S DESIGN. + + +Being a pleasant song of the times, written by a person of quality.—From +the Roxburgh Ballads, Vol. iii. + + Wine the most powerfull’st of all things on earth, + Which stifles cares and sorrows in their birth; + No treason in it harbours, nor can hate + Creep in when it bears away, to hurt the State. + Though storms grow high, so wine is to be got, + We are secure, their rage we value not; + The Muses cherish’d up such nectar, sing + Eternal joy to him that loves the King. + + To the tune of “Let Cæsar live long.” + + A POX of the fooling and plotting of late, + What a pudder and stir has it kept in the State! + Let the rabble run mad with suspicions and fears, + Let ’em scuffle and rail till they go by the ears,— + Their grievances never shall trouble my pate, + So I but enjoy my dear bottle at quiet. + + What coxcombs were those that would ruin their case + And their necks for a toy, a thin wafer, and mass! + For at Tyburn they never had needed to swing + Had they been but true subjects to drink and their King: + A friend and a bottle is all my design,— + He’s no room for treason that’s top-full of wine. + + I mind not the members and makers of laws, + Let them sit or prorogue as his Majesty please; + Let ’em damn us to Woolen, I’le never repine + At my usage when dead, so alive I have wine; + Yet oft in my drink I can hardly forbear + To blame them for making my claret so dear. + + I mind not grave allies who idly debate + About rights and successions, the trifles of State; + We’ve a good King already, and he deserves laughter + That will trouble his head with who shall come after: + Come, here’s to his health! and I wish he may be + As free from all cares and all troubles as we. + + SECOND PART. + + WHAT care I how leagues with Hollanders go, + Or intrigues ’twist Mounsieurs or Dons for to? + What concerns it my drinking if cities be sold, + If the conqueror takes them by storming or gold? + From whence claret comes is the place that I mind, + And when the fleet’s coming I pray for a wind. + + The bully of France that aspires to renown + By dull cutting of throats, and by venturing his own; + Let him fight till he’s ruined, make matches, and treat, + To afford us still news, the dull coffee-house cheat: + He’s but a brave wretch, whilst that I am more free, + More safe, and a thousand times happier than he. + + In spite of him, or the Pope, or the Devil, + Or faggot, or fire, or the worst of hell’s evil, + I still will drink healths to the lovers of wine, + Those jovial, brisk blades that do never repine; + I’ll drink in defiance of napkin or halter, + Tho’ religion turn round still, yet mine shall ne’er alter. + + But a health to good fellows shall still be my care, + And whilst wine it holds out, no bumpers we’ll spare. + I’ll subscribe to petitions for nothing but claret, + That that may be cheap, here’s both my hands for it; + ’Tis my province, and with it I only am pleased, + With the rest, scolding wives let poor cuckolds appease. + + No doubt ’tis the best of all drinks, or so soon + It ne’er had been chose by the Man in the Moon, {110} + Who drinks nothing else, both by night and by day + But claret, brisk claret, and most people say, + Whilst glasses brimful to the stars they go round, + Which makes them shine brighter with red juice still crown’d. + + For all things in Nature doe live by good drinking, + And he’s a dull fool, and not worthy my thinking, + That does not prefer it before all the treasure + The Indies contain, or the sea without measure; + ’Tis the life of good fellows, for without it they pine, + When nought can revive them but brimmers of wine. + + I know the refreshments that still it does bring, + Which have oftentimes made us as great as a king + In the midst of his armies where’er he is found, + Whilst the bottles and glasses I’ve muster’d round; + Who are Bacchus’ warriors a conquest will gain + Without the least bloodshed, or wounded, or slain. + + Then here’s a good health to all those that love peace, + Let plotters be damn’d and all quarrels now cease + Let me but have wine and I care for no more, + ’Tis a treasure sufficient; there’s none can be poor + That has Bacchus to’s friend, for he laughs at all harm, + Whilst with high-proofed claret he does himself arm. + + Printed for J. Jordan, at the Angel, Giltspur Street. + + + +THE LOYAL SUBJECTS’ HEARTY WISHES TO KING CHARLES II. + + + From Sir W. C. Trevelyan’s Broadsides in the British Museum. + + He that write these verses certainly + Did serve his royal father faithfully, + Likewise himself he served at Worcester fight, + And for his loyalty was put to flight. + + But had he a haid of hair like Absolom, + And every hair as strong as was Samson, + I’d venture all for Charles the Second’s sake, + And for his Majesty my life forsake. + + To the tune “When Cannons are roaring.” + + FIRST PART. + + TRUE subjects, all rejoice + After long sadness, + And now with heart and voice + Show forth your gladness. + That to King Charles were true + And rebels hated, + This song only to you + Is dedicated; + For Charles our sovereign dear + Is safe returned + True subjects’ hearts to cheer, + That long have mourned: + Then let us give God praise + That doth defend him, + And pray with heart and voice, + Angels, attend him. + + The dangers he hath past + From vile usurpers + Now bring him joy at last, + Although some lurkers + Did seek his blood to spill + By actions evil; + But God we see is still + Above the Devil: + Though many serpents hiss + Him to devour, + God his defender is + By His strong power: + Then let us give him praise + That doth defend him, + And sing with heart and voice, + Angels, defend him. + + The joy that he doth bring, + If true confessed, + The tongues of mortal men + Cannot confess it; + He cures our drooping fears, + Being long tormented, + And his true Cavaliers + Are well contented; + For now the Protestant + Again shall flourish; + The King our nursing father + He will us cherish: + Then let us give God praise + That did defend him, + And sing with heart and voice, + Angels, attend him. + + Like Moses, he is meek + And tender-hearted; + And by all means doth seek + To have foes converted; + But, like the Israelites, + There are a number + That for his love to them + ’Gainst him doth murmur: + Read Exodus,—’tis true + The Israelites rather + Yield to the Egyptian crew + Than Moses their father: + So many phanaticks, + With hearts disloyal, + Their hearts and minds do fix + ’Gainst our King royal. + + SECOND PART. + + LIKE holy David, he + Past many troubles, + And by his constancy + His joys redoubles; + For now he doth bear sway + By God appointed, + For Holy Writ doth say, + Touch not mine Anointed. + He is God’s anointed sure, + Who still doth guide him + In all his wayes most pure, + Though some divide him. + Then let us give God praise + That doth defend him, + And sing with heart and voice, + Angels, attend him. + + Many there are, we know, + Within this nation, + Lip-love to him do show + In ’simulation; + Of such vile hereticks + There are a number, + Whose hearts and tongues, we know, + Are far asunder; + Some do pray for the King + Being constrained; + Who lately against him + Greatly complained; + They turn both seat and seam + To cheat poor tailors, + But the fit place for them + Is under strong jailors. + + Let the King’s foes admire + Who do reject him; + Seeing God doth him inspire, + And still direct him, + To heal those evil sores, + And them to cure + By his most gracious hand + And prayers pure. + Though simple people say + Doctors do as much, + None but our lawful King + Can cure with a touch; + As plainly hath been seen + Since he returned,— + Many have cured been + Which long have mourned. + + The poorest wretch that hath + This evil, sure + May have ease from the King + And perfect cure; + His Grace is meek and wise, + Loving and civil, + And to his enemies + Doth good for evil; + For some that were his foes + Were by him healed; + His liberal cause to bless + Is not concealed; + He heals both poor and rich + By God’s great power, + And his most gracious touch + Doth them all cure. + + Then blush, you infidels, + That late did scorn him; + And you that did rebel, + Crave pardon of him; + With speed turn a new leaf + For your transgresses; + Hear what the preacher sayes + In Ecclesiastes,— + The Scripture’s true, and shall + Ever be taught; + Curse not the King at all, + No, not in thy thought: + And holy Peter + Two commandments doth bring,— + Is first for to fear God, + And then honour the King. + + When that we had no King + To guide the nation, + Opinions up did spring + By toleration; + And many heresies + Were then advanced, + And cruel liberties + By old Noll granted. + Even able ministers + Were not esteemed; + Many false prophets + Good preachers were deemed. + The Church some hated; + A barn, house, or stable + Would serve the Quakers, + With their wicked rabble. + + And now for to conclude: + The God of power + Preserve and guide our King + Both day and hour; + That he may rule and reign + Our hearts to cherish; + And on his head, good Lord, + Let his crown flourish. + Let his true subjects sing + With hearts most loyal, + God bless and prosper still + Charles our King royal. + So now let’s give God praise + That doth defend him, + And sing with heart and voice, + Angels defend him. + +London, printed for John Andrews, at the White Lion, near Pye-Court. + + + +KING CHARLES THE SECOND’S RESTORATION, 29TH MAY. + + + Tune, “Where have you been, my lovely sailor bold?” + + YOU brave loyal Churchmen, + That ever stood by the crown, + Have you forgot that noble prince + Great Charles of high renown, + That from his rights was banish’d + By Presbyterians, who + Most cruelty his father kill’d?— + O cursed, damned crew! + So let the bells in steeples ring, + And music sweetly play, + That loyal Tories mayn’t forget + The twenty-ninth of May. + + Twelve years was he banish’d + From what was his just due, + And forced to hide in fields and woods + From Presbyterian crew; + But God did preserve him, + As plainly you do see, + The blood-hounds did surround the oak + While he was in the tree. + So let, etc. + + As Providence would have it, + The hounds did lose their scent; + To spill the blood of this brave prince + It was their whole intent. + While that he was in exile, + The Church they pull’d down, + The Common-prayer they burnt, sir, + And trampled on the crown. + So let, etc. + + They plunder’d at their pleasure, + On lords’ estates they seiz’d, + The bishops they did send away, + They did just as they pleas’d. + But General Monk at last rose up, + With valiant heart so bold, + Saying, that he no longer + By them would be controul’d. + So let, etc. + + So in great splendour + At last he did bring in, + Unto every Torie’s joy, + Great Charles our sovereign. + Then loyal hearts so merry + The royal oak did wear, + While balconies with tapestry hung— + Nothing but joy was there. + So let, etc. + + The conduits they with wine did run, + The bonfires did blaze, + In every street likewise the skies + Did ring with loud huzzas,— + Saying, God bless our sovereign, + And send him long to reign, + Hoping the P—n crew + May never rule again. + So let, etc. + + Soon as great Charles + Our royal King was crown’d, + He built the Church up again, + The meetings were pull’d down. + No canting then was in the land, + The subjects were at peace, + The Church again did flourish, + And joy did then increase. + So let, etc. + + The cursed Presbyterian crew + Was then put to the flight, + Some did fly by day, + And others run by night. + In barns and stables they did cant, + And every place they could; + He made them remember + The spilling royal blood. + So let, etc. + + May God for ever + Bless the Church and Crown, + And never let any subject strive + The King for to dethrone. + May Churchmen ever flourish, + And peace increase again; + God for ever bless the King, + And send him long to reign. + So let, etc. + + + +THE JUBILEE, +OR +THE CORONATION DAY. + + +From Thomas Jordan’s “_Royal Arbor of Loyal Poesie_,” 12mo, 1664. Mr +Chappell states—“As this consists of only two stanzas, and the copy of +the book, which is now in the possession of Mr Payne Collier, is probably +unique, they are here subjoined.” + + LET every man with tongue and pen + Rejoice that Charles is come agen, + To gain his sceptre and his throne, + And give to every man his own; + Let all men that be + Together agree, + And freely now express their joy; + Let your sweetest voices bring + Pleasant songs unto the King, + To crown his Coronation Day. + + All that do thread on English earth + Shall live in freedom, peace, and mirth; + The golden times are come that we + Did one day think we ne’er should see; + Protector and Rump + Did put us in a dump, + When they their colours did display; + But the time is come about, + We are in, and they are out, + By King Charles his Coronation Day. + + + +THE KING ENJOYS HIS OWN AGAIN. + + + (1661.)—From Hogg’s Jacobite Relics. + + WHIGS are now such precious things, + We see there’s not one to be found; + All roar “God bless and save the King!” + And his health goes briskly all day round. + To the soldier, cap in hand, the sneaking rascals stand, + And would put in for honest men; + But the King he well knows his friends from his foes, + And now he enjoys his own again. + + From this plot’s first taking air, + Like lightning all the Whigs have run; + Nay, they’ve left their topping square, + To march off with our eldest son: + They’ve left their ’states and wives to save their precious lives, + Yet who can blame their flying, when + ’Twas plain to them all, the great and the small, + That the King would have his own again? + + This may chance a warning be + (If e’er the saints will warning take) + To leave off hatching villany, + Since they’ve seen their brother at the stake: + And more must mounted be (which God grant we may see), + Since juries now are honest men: + And the King lets them swing with a hey ding a ding, + Great James enjoys his own again. + + Since they have voted that his Guards + A nuisance were, which now they find, + Since they stand between the King + And the treason that such dogs design’d; + ’Tis they will you maul, though it cost them a fall, + In spight of your most mighty men; + For now they are alarm’d, and all Loyalists well arm’d, + Since the King enjoys his own again. + + To the King, come, bumpers round, + Let’s drink, my boys, while life doth last: + He that at the core’s not sound + Shall be kick’d out without a taste. + We’ll fear no disgrace, but look traitors in the face, + Since we’re case-harden’d, honest men; + Which makes their crew mad, but us loyal hearts full glad, + That the King enjoys his own again. + + + +A COUNTRY SONG, INTITULED THE RESTORATION. + + + (May, 1661.)—From the twentieth volume of the folio broadsides, King’s + Pamphlets. + + COME, come away + To the temple, and pray, + And sing with a pleasant strain; + The schismatick’s dead, + The liturgy’s read, + And the King enjoyes his own again. + + The vicar is glad, + The clerk is not sad, + And the parish cannot refrain + To leap and rejoyce + And lift up their voyce, + That the King enjoyes his own again. + + The country doth bow + To old justices now, + That long aside have been lain; + The bishop’s restored, + God is rightly adored, + And the King enjoyes his own again. + + Committee-men fall, + And majors-generall, + No more doe those tyrants reign; + There’s no sequestration, + Nor new decimation, + For the King enjoyes the sword again. + + The scholar doth look + With joy on his book, + Tom whistles and plows amain; + Soldiers plunder no more + As they did heretofore, + For the King enjoyes the sword again. + + The citizens trade, + The merchants do lade, + And send their ships into Spain; + No pirates at sea + To make them a prey, + For the King enjoyes the sword again. + + The old man and boy, + The clergy and lay, + Their joyes cannot contain; + ’Tis better than of late + With the Church and the State, + Now the King enjoyes the sword again. + + Let’s render our praise + For these happy dayes + To God and our sovereign; + Your drinking give ore, + Swear not as before, + For the King bears not the sword in vain. + + Fanaticks, be quiet, + And keep a good diet, + To cure your crazy brain; + Throw off your disguise, + Go to church and be wise, + For the King bears not the sword in vain. + + Let faction and pride + Be now laid aside, + That truth and peace may reign; + Let every one mend, + And there is an end, + For the King bears not the sword in vain. + + + +HERE’S A HEALTH UNTO HIS MAJESTY. + + +There is only one verse to this Song. The music is arranged for three +voices in “Playford’s Musical Companion, 1667.” + + HERE’S a health unto his Majesty, + With a fal la la la la la la, + Confusion to his enemies, + With a fal lal la la la la la la. + And he that will not drink his health, + I wish him neither wit nor wealth, + Nor but a rope to hang himself. + With a fal lal la la la la la la la la, + With a fal lal la la la la la. + + + +THE WHIGS DROWNED IN AN HONEST TORY HEALTH. + + + From Col. 180 Loyal Songs. + + Tune, “Hark, the thundering canons roar.” + + WEALTH breeds care, love, hope, and fear; + What does love or bus’ness here? + While Bacchus’ navy doth appear, + Fight on and fear not sinking; + Fill it briskly to the brim, + Till the flying top-sails swim, + We owe the first discovery to him + Of this great world of drinking. + + Brave Cabals, who states refine, + Mingle their debates with wine, + Ceres and the god o’ th’ vine + Make every great commander; + Let sober Scots small beer subdue, + The wise and valiant wine do woo, + The Stagerite had the horrors too, + To be drunk with Alexander. + + _Stand to your arms_! and now advance, + A health to the English King of France; + And to the next of boon esperance, + By Bacchus and Apollo; + Thus in state I lead the van, + Fall in your place by the right-hand man, + Beat drum! march on! dub a dub, ran dan! + He’s a Whig that will not follow. + + Face about to the right again, + Britain’s admiral of the main, + York and his illustrious train + Crown the day’s conclusion; + Let a halter stop his throat + Who brought in the foremost vote, + And of all that did promote + The mystery of exclusion. + + Next to Denmark’s warlike prince + Let the following health commence, + To the nymph whose influence + That brought the hero hither;— + May their race the tribe annoy, + Who the Grandsire would destroy, + And get every year a boy + Whilst they live together. + + To the royal family + Let us close in bumpers three, + May the ax and halter be + The pledge of every Roundhead; + To all loyal hearts pursue, + Who to the monarch dare prove true; + But for him they call True Blue, + Let him be confounded. + + + +THE CAVALIER. + + + By Alex. Brome.—(1661–2.) + + WE have ventured our estates, + And our liberties and lives, + For our master and his mates, + And been toss’d by cruel fates + Where the rebellious Devil drives, + So that not one of ten survives; + We have laid all at stake + For his Majesty’s sake; + We have fought, we have paid, + We’ve been sold and betray’d, + And tumbled from nation to nation; + But now those are thrown down + That usurped the Crown, + Our hopes were that we + All rewarded should be, + But we’re paid with a Proclamation. + + Now the times are turn’d about, + And the rebels’ race is run; + That many-headed beast the Rout, + That did turn the Father out, + When they saw they were undone, + Were for bringing in the son. + That phanatical crew, + Which made us all rue, + Have got so much wealth + By their plunder and stealth + That they creep into profit and power: + And so come what will, + They’ll be uppermost still; + And we that are low + Shall still be kept so, + While those domineer and devour. + + Yet we will be loyal still, + And serve without reward or hire: + To be redeem’d from so much ill, + May stay our stomachs, though not still, + And if our patience do not tire, + We may in time have our desire. + + + +THE LAMENTATION OF A BAD MARKET, +OR +THE DISBANDED SOULDIER. + + + (July 17th, 1660.)—From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. + +This ballad relates to the disbanding of the Parliamentary army. +Contrary, however, to what is pretended in it, says Mr. Wright, in his +volume printed for the Percy Society, the writers of the time mention +with admiration the good conduct of the soldiers after they were +disbanded, each betaking himself to some honest trade or calling, with as +much readiness as if he had never been employed in any other way. Not +many weeks before the date of the present ballad, a prose tract had been +published, with the same title, “The Lamentation of a Bad Market, or +Knaves and Fools foully foyled, and fallen into a Pit of their own +digging,” &c. March 21st, 1659–60. + + IN red-coat raggs attired, + I wander up and down, + Since fate and foes conspired, + Thus to array me, + Or betray me + To the harsh censure of the town. + My buffe doth make me boots, my velvet coat and scarlet, + Which used to do me credit with many a wicked harlot, + Have bid me all adieu, most despicable varlet! + Alas, poor souldier, whither wilt thou march? + + I’ve been in France and Holland, + Guided by my starrs; + I’ve been in Spain and Poland, + I’ve been in Hungarie, + In Greece and Italy, + And served them in all their wars. + Britain these eighteen years has known my desperate slaughter, + I’ve killed ten at one blow, even in a fit of laughter, + Gone home again and smiled, and kiss’d my landlor’s daughter; + Alas! poor souldier, etc. + + My valour prevailed, + Meeting with my foes, + Which strongly we assailed; + Oh! strange I wondred, + They were a hundred; + Yet I routed them with few blowes. + This fauchion by my side has kind more men, I’ll swear it, + Than Ajax ever did, alas! he ne’er came near it, + Yea, more than Priam’s boy, or all that ere did hear it. + Alas! poor souldier, etc. + + For King and Parliament + I was Prester John. + Devout was my intent; + I haunted meetings, + Used zealous greetings, + Crept full of devotion; + Smectymnuus won me first, then holy Nye prevail, {111} + Then Captain Kiffin {112} slops me with John of Leyden’s tail, + Then Fox and Naylor bangs me with Jacob Beamond’s flail. {113} + Alas! poor souldier, etc. + + I did about this nation + Hold forth my gifts and teach, + Maintained the tolleration + The common story + And Directory + I damn’d with the word “preach.” + Time was when all trades failed, men counterfeitly zealous + Turn’d whining, snievling praters, or kept a country ale-house, + Got handsome wives, turn’d cuckolds, howe’er were very jealous. + Alas! poor souldier, etc. + + The world doth know me well, + I ne’re did peace desire, + Because I could not tell + Of what behaviour + I should savour + In a field of thundring fire. + When we had murdered King, confounded Church and State, + Divided parks and forests, houses, money, plate, + We then did peace desire, to keep what he had gat. + Alas! poor souldier, etc. + + Surplice was surplisage, + We voted right or wrong, + Within that furious age, + Of the painted glass, + Or pictured brass, + And liturgie we made a song. + Bishops, and bishops’ lands, were superstitious words, + Until in souldiers’ hands, and so were kings and lords, + But in fashion now again in spight of all our swords. + Alas! poor souldier, etc. + + Some say I am forsaken + By the great men of these times, + And they’re no whit mistaken; + It is my fate + To be out of date, + My masters most are guilty of such crimes. + Like an old Almanack, I now but represent + How long since Edge-Hill fight, or the rising was in Kent, + Or since the dissolution of the first Long Parliament. + Alas! poor souldier, etc. + + Good sirs, what shall I fancie, + Amidst these gloomy dayes? + Shall I goe court brown Nancy? + In a countrey town + They’l call me clown, + If I sing them my outlandish playes. + Let me inform their nodle with my heroick spirit, + My language and worth besides transcend unto merit; + They’l not believe one word, what mortal flesh can bear it? + Alas! poor souldier, etc. + + Into the countrey places + I resolve to goe, + Amongst those sun-burnt faces + I’le goe to plough + Or keep a cow, + ’Tis that my masters now again must do. + Souldiers ye see will be of each religion, + They’re but like stars, which when the true sun rise they’re gon. + I’le to the countrey goe, and there I’le serve Sir John; + Aye, aye, ’tis thither, and thither will I goe. + + London, printed for Charles Gustavus, 1660. + + + +THE COURTIER’S HEALTH; +OR, +THE MERRY BOYS OF THE TIMES. + + + (A.D. 1672.)—From the Roxburgh Ballads, Vol. ii. + To the tune of “Come, Boys, fill us a Bumper.” + + COME, boys, fill us a bumper, + Wee’l make the nation roar, + She’s grown sick of a _Rumper_, + That sticks on the old score. + Pox on phanaticks, rout ’um, + They thirst for our blood; + Wee’l taxes raise without ’um, + And drink for the nation’s good. + Fill the pottles and the gallons, + And bring the hogshead in, + Wee’l begin with a tallen, + A brimmer to the King. + + Round, around, fill a fresh one, + Let no man bawk his wine, + Wee’l drink to the next in succession, + And keep it in the right line. + Bring us ten thousand glasses, + The more we drink we’re dry; + We mind not the beautiful lasses, + Whose conquest lyes all in the eye. + Fill the pottles, etc. + + We boys are truly loyal, + For Charles wee’l venture all, + We know his blood is royal, + His name shall never fall. + But those that seek his ruine + May chance to dye before him, + While we that sacks are woeing + For ever will adore him. + Fill the pottles, etc. + + I hate those strange dissenters + That strives to hawk a glass, + He that at all adventures + Will see what comes to pass: + And let the Popish nation + Disturb us if they can, + They ne’er shall breed distraction + In a true-hearted man. + Fill the pottles, etc. + + Let the fanatics grumble + To see things cross their grain, + Wee’l make them now more humble + Or ease them of their pain: + They shall drink sack amain too, + Or they shall be choak’t; + Wee’l tell ’um ’tis in vain too + For us to be provok’t. + Fill the pottles, etc. + + He that denyes the brimmer + Shall banish’d be in this isle, + And we will look more grimmer + Till he begins to smile: + Wee’l drown him in Canary, + And make him all our own, + And when his heart is merry + Hee’l drink to Charles on’s throne. + Fill the pottles, etc. + + Quakers and Anabaptists, + Wee’l sink them in a glass; + He deals most plain and flattest + That sayes he loves a lass: + Then tumble down Canary, + And let our brains go round, + For he that won’t be merry + He can’t at heart be sound. + Fill the pottles, etc. + + Printed for P. Brooksly, at the Golden Ball in West Smithfield, 1672. + + + +THE LOYAL TORIES’ DELIGHT; +OR, +A PILL FOR FANATICKS. + + + Being a most pleasant and new song. + + 1680.—From the Roxburgh Ballads, Vol. iii., fol. 911. + + To the tune of “Great York has been debar’d of late, etc.” + + GREAT York has been debar’d of late + From Court by some accursed fate; + But ere long, we do not fear, + We shall have him, have him here, + We shall have him, have him here. + + The makers of the plot we see, + By damn’d old _Tony’s_ treachery, + How they would have brought it about, + To have given great York the rout, + To have given, etc. + + God preserve our gracious King, + And safe tydings to us bring, + Defend us from the _sham black box_, {114} + And all damn’d fanatick plots, + And all damn’d, etc. + + Here Charles’s health I drink to thee, + And with him all prosperity; + God grant that he long time may reign, + To bring us home great York again, + To bring us home, etc. + + That he, in spight of all his foes + Who loyalty and laws oppose, + May long remain in health and peace, + Whilst plots and plotters all shall cease, + Whilst plots, etc. + + Let Whigs go down to Erebus, + And not stay here to trouble us + With noisy cant and needless fear, + Of ills to come they know not where, + Of ills to come, etc. + + When our chief trouble they create, + For plain we see what they’d be at; + Could they but push great York once down + They’d next attempt to snatch the crown, + They’d next attempt, etc. + + But Heaven preserve our gracious King, + May all good subjects loudly sing; + And Royal James preserve likewise, + From such as do against him rise, + From such as do, etc. + + Then come, again fill round our glass, + And, loyal Tories, less it pass, + Fill up, fill up unto the brim, + And let each boule with necture swim, + And let each boule, etc. + + Though _cloakmen_, that seem much precise, + ’Gainst wine exclaim with turn’d-up eyes; + Yet in a corner they’l be drunk, + With drinking healths unto the Rump, + With drinking, etc. + + In hopes that once more they shall tear + Both Church and State, which is their prayer; + But Heaven does yet protect the throne, + Whilst Tyburn for such slaves does groan, + Whilst Tyburn, etc. + + For now ’tis plain, most men abhor, + What some so strongly voted for; + Great York in favour does remain, + In spight of all the Whiggish train, + In spight of all, etc. + + And now the _Old Cause_ goes to wrack, + Sedition mauger cloath in black + Do greatly dread the triple tree, + Whilst we rejoyce in loyalty, + Whilst we rejoyce, etc. + + Then come, let’s take another round, + And still in loyalty abound, + And wish our King he long may reign + To bring us home great York again, + To bring us home great York again. + + + +THE ROYAL ADMIRAL. + + +Miss Strickland quotes this ballad in her Lives of the Queens of England, +and states that this was the first Jacobite song that was written and set +to music. + + LET Titus {115} and Patience {116} stir up a commotion, + Their plotting and swearing shall prosper no more; + Now gallant old Jamie commands on the ocean, + And mighty Charles keeps them in awe on the shore. + + Jamie the Valiant, the Champion Royal, + His own and the monarchy’s rival withstood; + The bane and the terror of those the disloyal, + Who slew his loved father and thirst for his blood. + + York, the great admiral,—Ocean’s defender, + The joy of our navy, the dread of its foes, + The lawful successor,—what upstart pretender + Shall dare, in our isle, the true heir to oppose? + + Jamie quelled the proud foe on the ocean, + And rode the sole conqueror over the main; + To this gallant hero let all pay devotion, + For England her admiral sees him again. + + + +THE UNFORTUNATE WHIGS. + + + 1682.—From the Roxburgh Ballads. + + To the tune of “The King enjoys his own,” &c. + + THE Whigs are but small, and of no good race, + And are beloved by very few; + Old _Tony_ broach’d his tap in every place, + To encourage all his factious crew. + At some great houses in this town, + The Whigs of high renown, + And all with a true blue was their stain; + For since it is so, + They have wrought their overthrow, + Old Tony _will ne’r enjoy his own_, _again_. + + They all owne duty to their lawful prince, + And loyal subjects should have been; + But their duty is worn out long since, + By the _Association_ seen. + But these are the Whigs, + That have cut off some legs, + And fain would be at that sport amain; + For since it is so, + They have wrought their overthrow, + Old Tony _will ne’r enjoy his own again_. + + And yet they are sham-pretenders, + And they swear they’ll support our laws; + These be the great defenders of + _Ignoramus_ and the _Old Cause_: + They’ll defend the King + By swearing of the thing, + These are the cursed rogues in grain; + For since it is so, + They have wrought their overthrow, + Old Tony _will ne’r enjoy his own again_. + + The true religion that shall down, + Which so long has won the day, + And _Common-prayer_ i’th’ church of ev’ry town, + If that the Whigs could but bear the sway: + For Oates he does begin + Now for to bring them in, + As when he came mumping from Spain; + For since it is so, + They have wrought their overthrow, + Old Tony _will ne’r enjoy his own again_. + + How all their shamming plots they would hide, + Yet they are ignorant, they say, + When as Old _Tony_ he was try’d + And brought off with _Ignoramus_ sway: + When Oates he was dumb + And could not use his tongue, + This is the shamming rogues in grain; + For since it is so, + They have wrought their overthrow, + Old Tony _will ne’r enjoy his own again_. + + Then let all true subjects sing, + And damn the power of all those + That won’t show loyalty to their King, + And assist him against his Whiggish foes. + Then in this our happy state, + In spight of traytors’ hate, + We will all loyal still remain; + For since it is so, + They have wrought their overthrow, + Old Tony _will ne’r enjoy his own again_. + + God preserve our gracious King, + With the Royal Consort of his bed, + And let all loyal subjects sing + That the crown may remain on Charles’s head; + For we will drink his health + In spight of _Common-wealth_, + And his lawful rights we will maintain; + For since it is so, + They have wrought their overthrow, + Old Tony _will ne’r enjoy his own again_. + + Printed for S. Maurel, in the year 1682. + + + +THE DOWNFALL OF THE GOOD OLD CAUSE. + + +From a “Collection of One Hundred and Eighty Loyal Songs, all written +since 1678,” and published London, 1694. [Fourth Edition.] + + Tune,—“Hey, Boys, up go we.” + + NOW the Bad Old Cause is tapt, + And the vessel standeth stoop’d; + The cooper may starve for want of work, + For the cask shall never be hoop’d;— + We will burn the Association, + The Covenant and vow, + The public cheat of the nation, + Anthony, now, now, now + + No fanatick shall bear the sway + In court, city, or town, + These good kingdoms to betray, + And cry the right line down;— + Let them cry they love the King, + Yet if they hate his brother, + Remember Charles they murdered, + And so they would the other. + + Weavers and such like fellows + In pulpit daily prate, + Like the Covenanters, + Against the Church and State: + Yet they cry they love the King, + But their baseness will discover; + Charles the First they murdered, + And so they would the other. + + When these fellows go to drink, + In city or in town, + They vilify the bishops + And they cry the Stuarts down: + Still they cry they love the King, + But their baseness I’ll discover; + Charles the First they murdered, + And so they would the other. + + When the King wanted money, + Poor Tangier to relieve, + They cry’d down his revenue, + Not a penny they would give: + Still they cry’d they loved the King, + But their baseness I’ll discover; + Charles the First they murdered, + And so they would the other. + + The noble Marquis of Worcester, + And many such brave lord, + By the King-killing crew + They daily are abhor’d, + And called evil councellors, + When the truth they did discover; + And Charles the First they murdered, + And so they would the other. + + The Papists they would kill the King, + But the Phanaticks did; + Their perjuries and treacheries + Aren’t to be parallel’d: + Let them cry they love the King, + Their faults I will discover; + Charles the First they murdered, + And so they would the other. + + Charles the Second stands on’s guard, + Like a good politick King; + The Phanaticks ought to be abhor’d + For all their flattering: + Let them cry they love the King, + Their faults I will discover; + Charles the First they murdered, + And so they would the other. + + Now let us all good subjects be, + That bear a loyal heart; + Stand fast for the King + And each man act his part; + And to support his Sovereign, + Religion, and the laws, + That formerly were established, + And down with the cursed cause. + + + +OLD JEMMY. + + +From a “Collection of 180 Loyal Songs,” written since 1678. This is a +parody on the Whig song, “Young Jemmy is a lad that’s royally descended,” +written in celebration of the Duke of Monmouth. Old Jemmy is the Duke of +York, afterwards James II. + + To the tune of “Young Jemmy.” + + OLD Jemmy is a lad + Right lawfully descended; + No bastard born nor bred, + Nor for a Whig suspended; + The true and lawful heir to th’ crown + By right of birth and laws, + And bravely will maintain his own + In spight of all his foes. + + Old Jemmy is the top + And chief among the princes; + No _Mobile_ gay fop, + With Birmingham pretences; + A heart and soul so wondrous great, + And such a conquering eye, + That every loyal lad fears not + In Jemmy’s cause to die. + + Old Jemmy is a prince + Of noble resolutions, + Whose powerful influence + Can order our confusions; + But oh! he fights with such a grace + No force can him withstand, + No god of war but must give place + When Jemmy leads the van. + + To Jemmy every swain + Does pay due veneration, + And Scotland does maintain + His title to the nation; + The pride of all the court he stands, + The patron of his cause, + The joy and hope of all his friends, + And terror of his foes. + + Maliciously they vote + To work Old Jemmy’s ruin, + And zealously promote + A Bill for his undoing; + Both Lords and Commons most agree + To pull his Highness down, + But (spight of all their policy) + Old Jemmy’s heir to th’ crown. + + The schismatick and saint, + The Baptist and the Atheist, + Swear by the Covenant, + Old Jemmy is a Papist: + Whilst all the holy crew did plot + To pull his Highness down, + Great Albany, a noble Scot + Did raise unto a crown. + + Great Albany, they swear, + He before any other + Shall be immediate heir + Unto his royal brother; + Who will, in spight of all his foes, + His lawful rights maintain, + And all the fops that interpose + Old Jemmy’s York again. + + The Whigs and zealots plot + To banish him the nation, + But the renowned Scot + Hath wrought his restoration: + With high respects they treat his Grace, + His royal cause maintain; + Brave Albany (to Scotland’s praise) + Is mighty York again. + + Against his envious fates + The Kirk hath taught a lesson, + A blessing on the States, + To settle the succession; + They real were, both knight and lord, + And will his right maintain, + By royal Parliament restored, + Old Jemmy’s come again. + + And now he’s come again, + In spight of all Pretenders; + Great Albany shall reign, + Amongst the Faith’s defenders. + Let Whig and Birmingham repine, + They show their teeth in vain, + The glory of the British line, + Old Jemmy’s come again. + + + +THE CLOAK’S KNAVERY. + + +From “Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Purge Melancholy; being a Collection of +the best merry Ballads and Songs, old and new.” London, 1714. + + COME buy my new ballad, + I have’t in my wallet, + But ’twill not I fear please every pallate; + Then mark what ensu’th, + I swear by my youth + That every line in my ballad is truth. + A ballad of wit, a ballad of worth, + ’Tis newly printed and newly come forth; + ’Twas made of a cloak that fell out with a gown, + That cramp’d all the kingdom and crippled the crown. + + I’ll tell you in brief + A story of grief, + Which happen’d when Cloak was Commander-in-chief; + It tore common prayers, + Imprison’d lord mayors, + In one day it voted down prelates and prayers; + It made people perjured in point of obedience, + And the Covenant did cut off the oath of allegiance. + Then let us endeavour to pull the Cloak down + That cramp’d all the kingdom and crippled the crown. + + It was a black Cloke, + In good time be it spoke, + That kill’d many thousands but never struck stroke; + With hatchet and rope + The forlorn hope + Did join with the Devil to pull down the Pope; + It set all the sects in the city to work, + And rather than fail ’twould have brought in the Turk. + Then let us endeavour, etc. + + It seized on the tower-guns, + Those fierce demi-gorgons, + It brought in the bag-pipes, and brought in the organs; + The pulpits did smoke, + The churches did choke, + And all our religion was turn’d to a cloak. + It brought in lay-elders could not write nor read, + It set public faith up and pull’d down the creed. + Then let us endeavour, etc. + + This pious impostor + Such fury did foster, + It left us no penny nor no _pater-noster_; + It threw to the ground + The commandments down, + And set up twice twenty times ten of its own; + It routed the King and villains elected, + To plunder all those whom they thought disaffected. + Then let us endeavour, etc. + + To blind people’s eyes + This Cloak was so wise, + It took off ship-money, but set up excise; + Men brought in their plate + For reasons of state, + And gave it to Tom Trumpeter and his mate. + In pamphlets it writ many specious epistles, + To cozen poor wenches of bodkins and whistles. + Then let us endeavour, etc. + + In pulpits it moved, + And was much approved + For crying out, _Fight The Lord’s battles_, _beloved_; + It bob-tayled the gown, + Put Prelacy down, + It trod on the mitre to reach at the crown; + And into the field it an army did bring, + To aim at the council but shoot at the King. + Then let us endeavour, etc. + + It raised up States + Whose politic fates + Do now keep their quarters on the city gates. + To father and mother, + To sister and brother, + It gave a commission to kill one another. + It took up men’s horses at very low rates, + And plunder’d our goods to secure our estates. + Then let us endeavour, etc. + + This Cloak did proceed + To damnable deed, + It made the best mirror of majesty bleed; + Tho’ Cloak did not do’t, + He set it on foot, + By rallying and calling his journeymen to’t. + For never had come such a bloody disaster, + If Cloak had not first drawn a sword at his master. + Then let us endeavour, etc. + + Tho’ some of them went hence + By sorrowful sentence, + This lofty long Cloak is not moved to repentance; + But he and his men, + Twenty thousand times ten, + Are plotting to do their tricks over again. + But let this proud Cloak to authority stoop, + Or DUN will provide him a button and loop. + Then let us endeavour to pull the Cloak down + That basely did sever the head from the crown. + + Let’s pray that the King + And his Parliament + In sacred and secular things may consent; + So righteously firm, + And religiously free, + That Papists and Atheists suppressed may be. + And as there’s one Deity does over-reign us, + One faith and one form and one Church may contain us. + Then peace, truth, and plenty our kingdom will crown, + And all Popish plots and their plotters shall down. + + + +THE TIME-SERVER, +OR +A MEDLEY. + + +From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society, and +edited by J. O. Halliwell. + + ROOM for a gamester that plays at all he sees, + Whose fickle fancy suits such times as these, + One that says Amen to every factious prayer, + From Hugh Peters’ pulpit to St Peter’s chair; + One that doth defy the Crozier and the Crown, + But yet can house with blades that carouse, + Whilst pottle pots tumble down, derry down, + One that can comply with surplice and with cloak, + Yet for his end can independ + Whilst Presbyterian broke Brittain’s yoke. + + This is the way to trample without trembling, + ’Tis the sycophant’s only secure. + Covenants and oaths are badges of dissembling, + ’Tis the politick pulls down the pure. + To profess and betray, to plunder and pray, + Is the only ready way to be great; + Flattery doth the feat; + Ne’er go, ne’er stir, sir—will venture further + Than the greatest dons in the town, + From a coffer to a crown. + + I’m in a temperate humour now to think well, + Now I’m in another humour for to drink well, + Then fill us up a beer-bowl, boys, that we + May drink it, drink it merrily; + No knavish spy shall understand, + For, if it should be known, + ’Tis ten to one we shall be trepanned. + + I’ll drink to them a brace of quarts, + Whose anagram is call’d true hearts; + If all were well, as I would ha’t, + And Britain cured of its tumour, + I should very well like my fate, + And drink my sack at a cheaper rate, + Without any noise or rumour, + Oh then I should fix my humour. + + But since ’tis no such matter, change your hue, + I may cog and flatter, so may you; + Religion is a widgeon, and reason is treason, + And he that hath a loyal heart may bid the world adieu. + + We must be like the Scottish man, + Who, with intent to beat down schism, + Brought in the Presbyterian + With canon and with catechism. + If beuk wont do’t, then Jockey shoot, + For the Church of Scotland doth command; + And what hath been since they came in + I think we have cause to understand. + + + +THE SOLDIER’S DELIGHT. + + + (Made in the late times.) + +From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society, and +edited by J. O. Halliwell. + + FAIR Phydelia, tempt no more, + I may not now thy beauty so adore, + Nor offer to thy shrine; + I serve one more divine + And greater far than you: + Hark! the trumpet calls away, + We must go, lest the foe + Get the field and win the day; + Then march bravely on, + Charge them in the van, + Our cause God’s is, though the odds is + Ten times ten to one. + + Tempt no more, I may not yield, + Although thine eyes a kingdom may surprise; + Leave off thy wanton tales, + The high-born Prince of Wales + Is mounted in the field, + Where the loyal gentry flock, + Though forlorn, nobly born, + Of a ne’er-decaying stock; + Cavaliers, be bold, ne’er let go your hold, + Those that loiters are by traitors + Dearly bought and sold. + + _Phydelia_.—One kiss more, and so farewell. + _Soldier_.—Fie, no more! I prithee fool give o’er; + Why cloud’st thou thus thy beams? + I see by these extremes, + A woman’s heaven or hell. + Pray the King may have his own, + That the Queen may be seen + With her babes on England’s throne; + Rally up your men, one shall vanquish ten, + Victory, we come to try our valour once again. + + + +THE LOYAL SOLDIER. + + + From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society, and + edited by J. O. Halliwell. + + WHEN in the field of Mars we lie, + Amongst those martial wights, + Who, never daunted, are to dye + For King and countrie’s rights; + As on Belona’s god I wait, + And her attendant be, + Yet, being absent from my mate, + I live in misery. + + When lofty winds aloud do blow, + It snoweth, hail, or rain, + And Charon in his boat doth row, + Yet stedfast I’ll remain; + And for my shelter in some barn creep, + Or under some hedge lye; + Whilst such as do now strong castles keep + Knows no such misery. + + When down in straw we tumbling lye, + With Morpheus’ charms asleep, + My heavy, sad, and mournful eye + In security so deep; + Then do I dream within my arms + With thee I sleeping lye, + Then do I dread or fear no harms, + Nor feel no misery. + + When all my joys are thus compleat, + The canons loud do play, + The drums alarum straight do beat, + Trumpet sounds, horse, away! + Awake I then, and nought can find + But death attending me, + And all my joys are vanisht quite,— + This is my misery. + + When hunger oftentimes I feel, + And water cold do drink, + Yet from my colours I’le not steal, + Nor from my King will shrink; + No traytor base shall make me yield, + But for the cause I’le be: + This is my love, pray Heaven to shield, + And farewell misery. + + Then to our arms we straight do fly, + And forthwith march away; + Few towns or cities we come nigh + Good liquor us deny; + In Lethe deep our woes we steep— + Our loves forgotten be, + Amongst the jovialst we sing, + Hang up all misery. + + Propitious fate, then be more kind, + Grim death, lend me thy dart, + O sun and moon, and eke the wind, + Great Jove, take thou our part; + That of these Roundheads and these wars + An end that we may see, + And thy great name we’ll all applaud, + And hang all misery. + + + +THE POLITITIAN. + + + Upon an act of Treason made by the Rebels, etc. + + From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society, and + edited by J. O. Halliwell. + + BUT since it was lately enacted high treason + For a man to speak truth ’gainst the head of a state, + Let every wise man make a use of his reason + To think what he will, but take heed what he prate; + For the proverb doth learn us, + He that stays from the battel sleeps in a whole skin, + And our words are our own if we keep them within, + What fools are we then that to prattle do begin + Of things that do not concern us! + + ’Tis no matter to me whoe’er gets the battle, + The rubs or the crosses, ’tis all one to me; + It neither increaseth my goods nor my cattle; + A beggar’s a beggar, and so he shall be + Unless he turn traitor. + Let misers take courses to hoard up their treasure, + Whose bounds have no limits, whose minds have no measure, + Let me be but quiet and take a little pleasure, + A little contents my own nature. + + But what if the kingdom returns to the prime ones? + My mind is a kingdom, and so it shall be; + I’ll make it appear, if I had but the time once, + He’s as happy in one as they are in three, + If he might but enjoy it. + He that’s mounted aloft is a mark for the fate, + And an envy to every pragmatical pate, + Whilst he that is low is safe in his estate, + And the great ones do scorn to annoy him. + + I count him no wit that is gifted in rayling + And flurting at those that above him do sit; + Whilst they do outwit him with whipping and jailing, + His purse and his person must pay for his wit. + But ’tis better to be drinking; + If sack were reform’d to twelve-pence a quart + I’d study for money to merchandise for’t, + With a friend that is willing in mirth we would sport; + Not a word, but we’d pay it with thinking. + + My petition shall be that Canary be cheaper, + Without either custom or cursed excise; + That the wits may have freedom to drink deeper and deeper, + And not be undone whilst our noses we baptize; + But we’ll liquor them and drench them. + If this were but granted, who would not desire + To dub himself one of Apollo’s own quire? + And then we will drink whilst our noses are on fire, + And the quart pots shall be buckets to quench them. + + + +A NEW DROLL. + + + From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Edited by J. O. Halliwell. + + COME let’s drink, the time invites, + Winter and cold weather; + For to spend away long nights, + And to keep good wits together. + Better far than cards or dice, + Isaac’s balls are quaint device, + Made up with fan and feather. + + Of strange actions on the seas + Why should we be jealous? + Bring us liquor that will please, + And will make us braver fellows + Than the bold Venetian fleet, + When the Turks and they do meet + Within their Dardanellos. + + Valentian, that famous town, + Stood the French man’s wonder; + Water they employ’d to drown, + So to cut their troops assunder; + Turein gave a helpless look, + While the lofty Spaniard took + La Ferta and his plunder. + + As for water, we disclaim + Mankind’s adversary; + Once it caused the world’s whole frame + In the deluge to miscarry; + And that enemy of joy + Which sought our freedom to destroy + And murder good Canary. + + We that drink have no such thoughts, + Black and void of reason: + We take care to fill our vaults + With good wine of every season; + And with many a chirping cup + We blow one another up, + And that’s our only treason. + + Hear the squibs and mind the bells, + The fifth of November; + The parson a sad story tells, + And with horror doth remember + How some hot-brain’d traitor wrought + Plots that would have ruin brought + To King and every member. + + + +THE ROYALIST. + + + A song made in the Rebellion. + + From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society, and + edited by J. O. Halliwell. + + STAY, shut the gate! + T’other quart, boys, ’tis not so late + As you are thinking; + The stars which you see in the hemisphere be + Are but studs in your cheeks by good drinking; + The sun’s gone to tipple all night in the sea, boys, + To-morrow he’ll blush that he’s paler than we, boys; + Drink wine, give him water, + ’Tis sack makes us the boys. + + Fill up the glass, + To the next merry lad let it pass; + Come, away wi’t; + Let’s set foot to foot and but give our minds to’t, + ’Tis heretical sir, that doth slay wit; + Then hang up good faces, let’s drink till our noses + Give’s freedom to speak what our fancy disposes, + Beneath whose protection now under the rose is. + + Drink off your bowl, + ’Twill enrich both your head and your soul with Canary; + For a carbuncled face saves a tedious race, + And the Indies about us we carry; + No Helicon like to the juice of good wine is, + For Phoebus had never had wit that divine is, + Had his face not been bow-dy’d as thine is and mine is. + + This must go round, + Off with your hats till the pavement be crown’d with your beavers; + A red-coated face frights a sergeant and his mace, + Whilst the constables tremble to shivers. + In state march our faces like some of that quorum, + While the . . . do fall down and the vulgar adore ’um, + And our noses like link-boys run shining before ’um. + + + +THE ROYALIST’S RESOLVE. + + + From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society. + + COME, drawer, some wine, + Or we’ll pull down the sign, + For we are all jovial compounders; + We’ll make the house ring + With healths to our King, + And confusion light on his confounders. + + Since former committee + Afforded no pity, + Our sorrows in wine we will steep ’um; + They force us to take + Two oaths, but we’ll make + A third, that we ne’er mean to keep ’um. + + And next, whoe’er sees, + We’ll drink on our knees + To the King; may he thirst that repines: + A fig for those traytors + That look to our waters, + They have nothing to do with our wines. + + And next here’s three bowls + To all gallant souls + That for the King did and will venture; + May they flourish when those + That are his and our foes + Are hang’d, and ram’d down to the center. + + And may they be found + In all to abound, + Both with Heaven and the country’s anger; + May they never want fractions, + Doubts, fears, and distractions, + Till the gallows-tree frees them from danger. + + + +LOYALTY TURNED UP TRUMP, +OR +THE DANGER OVER. + + +From the Loyal Garland, reprinted from a Black-Letter copy, printed 1686. +Reprinted for the Percy society, 1850. + + IN vain ill men attempt us, + Their day is out of date; + The fates do now exempt us + From what we felt of late. + The nation is grown wiser + Than to believe their shame; + He that was the deviser + Themselves begin to blame. + + They thought the trumps would ever + Turn on rebellion’s side, + But kinder power deliver + Us from their foolish pride; + For see, they are deceived, + And can no more prevail; + Those who the Rump believed, + Ashamed are of the tale. + + + +THE LOYALIST’S ENCOURAGEMENT. + + + From the Loyal Garland. + To the tune of “Now, now the fight’s done.” + + YOU Royalists all, now rejoice and be glad, + The day is our own, there’s no cause to be sad, + The tumult of faction is crush’d in its pride, + And the grand promoters their noddles all hide, + For fear of a swing, which does make it appear + Though treason they loved yet for hemp they don’t care. + + Then let us be bold still, and baffle their plots, + That they in the end may prove impotent sots; + And find both their wit and their malice defeated, + Nay, find how themselves and their pupils they cheated, + By heaping and thrusting to unhinge a State, + Of which Heaven’s guardian fixt is by fate. + + Though once they the rabble bewitch’d with their cant, + Whilst cobler and weaver set up for a saint; + Yet now the stale cheat they can fasten no more, + The juggle’s discover’d and they must give o’er; + Yet give them their due that such mischief did work, + Who revile Christian princes and pray for the Turk. + + Oh! give them their due, and let none of ’em want + A cup of Geneva or Turkish turbant, + That, clad in their colours, they may not deceive + The vulgar, too prone and too apt to believe + The fears they suggest on a groundless pretence, + On purpose to make ’em repine or their prince. + + + +THE TROUPER. + + + From the Loyal Garland. A pleasant song revived. + + COME, come, let us drink, + ’Tis vain to think + Like fools of grief or sadness; + Let our money fly + And our sorrows dye, + All worldly care is madness; + But wine and good cheer + Will, in spite of our fear, + Inspire us all with gladness. + + Let the greedy clowns, + That do live like hounds, + They know neither bound nor measure, + Lament every loss, + For their wealth is their cross, + Whose delight is in their treasure; + Whilst we with our own + Do go merrily on, + And spend it at our leisure. + + Then trout about the bowl + To every loyal soul, + And to his hand commend it. + A fig for chink, + ’Twas made to buy drink, + Before we depart we’ll end it. + When we’ve spent our store, + The nation yields no more, + And merrily we will spend it. + + + +ON THE TIMES, +OR +THE GOOD SUBJECT’S WISH. + + + From the Loyal Garland. + To the tune of “Young Phaon.” + + GOOD days we see, let us rejoice, + In peace and loyalty, + And still despise the factious noise + Of those that vainly try + To undermine our happiness, + That they may by it get; + Knavery has great increase + When honesty does set. + + But let us baffle all their tricks, + Our King and country serve; + And may he never thrive that likes + Sedition in reserve: + Then let each in his station rest, + As all good subjects should; + And he that otherwise designs, + May he remain unblest. + + May traytors ever be deceived + In all they undertake, + And never by good men believed; + May all the plots they make + Fall heavy on themselves, and may + They see themselves undone, + And never have a happy day, + That would the King dethrone. + + + +THE JOVIALISTS’ CORONATION. + + + From the Loyal Garland. + + SINCE it must be so, why then so let it go, + Let the giddy-brain’d times turn round; + Now we have our King, let the goblets be crowned, + And our monarchy thus we recover; + Whilst the pottles are weeping + We’ll drench our sad souls + In big-belly’d bowls, + And our sorrows in wine shall lie steeping. + And we’ll drink till our eyes do run over, + And prove it by reason, + It can be no treason + To drink or to sing + A mournifal of healths to our new-crowned King. + + Let us all stand bare in the presence we are, + Let our noses like bonfires shine; + Instead of the conduits, let pottles run wine, + To perfect this true coronation; + And we that are loyal, in drink shall be peers; + For that face that wears claret + Can traytors defie all, + And out-stares the bores of our nation; + In sign of obedience + Our oaths of allegiance + Beer glasses shall be, + And he that tipples tends to jollitry. + + But if in this reign a halberdly train, + Or a constable, chance to revel, + And would with his twyvels maliciously swell, + And against the King’s party raise arms: + Then the drawers, like yeomen o’ the guard, + With quart-pots + Shall fuddle the sots, + Till they make ’um both cuckolds and freemen, + And on their wives beat up alarms, + Thus as the health passes, + We’ll triple our glasses, + And count it no sin + To drink and be loyal in defence of our King. + + + +THE LOYAL PRISONER. + + + From the Loyal Garland. + + HOW happy’s that pris’ner that conquers his fate + With silence, and ne’er on bad fortune complains, + But carelessly plays with keys on his grate, + And he makes a sweet concert with them and his chains! + He drowns care in sack, while his thoughts are opprest, + And he makes his heart float like a cork in his breast. + Then since we are slaves, and all islanders be, + And our land a large prison enclosed by the sea, + We’ll drink off the ocean, and set ourselves free, + For man is the world’s epitomy. + + Let tyrants wear purple, deep-dy’d in the blood + Of those they have slain, their scepters to sway, + If our conscience be clear, and our title be good, + With the rags that hang on us we are richer than they; + We’ll drink down at night what we beg or can borrow, + And sleep without plotting for more the next morrow. + Then since, etc. + + Let the usurer watch o’er his bags and his house, + To keep that from robbers he rak’d from his debtors, + Which at midnight cries thieves at the noise of a mouse, + And he looks if his trunks are fast bound to their fetters; + When once he’s grown rich enough for a State’s plot, + But in one hour plunders what threescore years got. + Then since, etc. + + Come, drawer, fill each man a peck of old sherry, + This brimmer shall bid all our senses good-night; + When old Aristotle was frolic and merry, + By the juice of the grape, he stagger’d out-right; + Copernicus once, in a drunken fit, found + By the course of’s brains that the world did turn round. + Then since, etc. + + ’Tis sack makes our faces like comets to shine, + And gives tincture beyond a complexion mask. + Diogenes fell so in love with his wine, + That when ’twas all out he dwelt in the cask, + And being shut up within a close room, + He, dying, requested a tub for his tomb. + Then since, etc. + + Let him never so privately muster his gold, + His angels will their intelligence be; + How closely they’re prest in their canvas hold, + And they want the State-souldier to set them all free: + Let them pine and be hanged, we’ll merrily sing, + Who hath nothing to lose, may cry, God bless the King. + Then since, etc. + + + +CANARY’S CORONATION. + + + From the Loyal Garland. + + COME, let’s purge our brains + From ale and grains, + That do smell of anarchy; + Let’s chuse a King + From whose blood may spring + Such a sparkling progeny; + It will be fit, strew mine in it, + Whose flames are bright and clear; + We’ll not bind our hands with drayman’s bands, + When as we may be freer; + Why should we droop, or basely stoop + To popular ale or beer? + + Who shall be King? how comes the thing + For which we all are met? + Claret is a prince that hath long since + In the royal order set: + His face is spread with a warlike seed, + And so he loves to see men; + When he bears the sway, his subjects they + Shall be as good as freemen; + But here’s the plot, almost forgot, + ’Tis too much burnt with women. + + By the river of Rhine is a valiant wine + That can all other replenish; + Let’s then consent to the government + And the royal rule of Rhenish: + The German wine will warm the chine, + And frisk in every vein; + ’Twill make the bride forget to chide, + And call him to’t again: + But that’s not all, he is too small + To be our sovereign. + + Let us never think of a noble drink, + But with notes advance on high, + Let’s proclaim good Canary’s name,— + Heaven bless his Majesty! + He is a King in everything, + Whose nature doth renounce all, + He’ll make us skip and nimbly trip + From ceiling to the groundsil; + Especially when poets be + Lords of the Privy Council. + + But a vintner will his taster be, + Here’s nothing that can him let; + A drawer that hath a good palat + Shall be squire of the gimblet. + The bar-boys shall be pages all, + A tavern well-prepared, + And nothing shall be spared; + In jovial sort shall be the court, + Wine-porters that are soldiers tall + Be yeomen of the guard. + + But if a cooper we with a red nose see + In any part of the town; + The cooper shall, with his aids-royal, + Bear the sceptre of the crown; + Young wits that wash away their cash + In wine and recreation, + Who hates ale and beer, shall be welcome here + To give their approbation; + So shall all you that will allow + Canary’s recreation. + + + +THE MOURNFUL SUBJECTS, +OR +THE WHOLE NATION’S LAMENTATION, +FROM THE HIGHEST TO THE LOWEST. + + +The Mournful Subjects, or the Whole Nation’s Lamentation, from the +Highest to the Lowest; who did with brinish tears (the true signs of +sorrow) bewail the death of their most gracious Soveraign King Charles +the Second, who departed this life Feb. 6th, 1684, and was interred in +Westminster Abbey, in King Henry the Seventh’s Chapel, on Saturday night +last, being the 14th day of the said month; to the sollid grief and +sorrow of all his loving subjects. + + From vol. i. of the Roxburgh Ballads in Brit. Mus. + + Tune, “Troy Town, or the Duchess of Suffolk.” + + TRUE subjects mourn, and well they may, + Of each degree, both lords and earls, + Which did behold that dismal day, + The death of princely pious Charles; + Some thousand weeping tears did fall + At his most sollid funeral. + + He was a prince of clemency, + Whose love and mercy did abound; + His death may well lamented be + Through all the nations Europe round; + Unto the ears of Christian kings + His death unwelcome tidings brings. + + All those that ever thought him ill, + And did disturb him in his reign,— + Let horrour now their conscience fill, + And strive such actions to restrain; + For sure they know not what they do, + The time will come when they shall rue. + + How often villains did design + By cruelty his blood to spill, + Yet by the Providence divine + God would not let them have their will, + But did preserve our gracious King, + Under the shadow of his wing. + + We grieved his soul while he was here, + When we would not his laws obey; + Therefore the Lord he was severe, + And took our gracious prince away: + We were not worthy to enjoy + The prince whom subjects would annoy. + + In peace he did lay down his head, + The sceptre and the royal crown; + His soul is now to heaven fled, + Above the reach of mortal frown, + Where joy and glory will not cease, + In presence with the King of Peace. + + Alas! we had our liberty, + He never sought for to devour + By a usurping tyranny, + To rule by arbitrary power; + No, no, in all his blessed reign + We had no cause for to complain. + + Let mourners now lament the loss + Of him that did the scepter sway, + And look upon it as a cross + That he from us is snatch’d away; + Though he is free from care or woe, + Yet we cannot forget him so. + + But since it was thy blessed will + To call him from a sinful land, + Oh let us all be thankful still + That it was done by thine own hand: + No pitch of honour can be free + From Death’s usurping tyranny. + + The fourteen day of February + They did interr our gracious Charles; + His funeral solemnity, + Accompanied with lords and earls, + Four Dukes, I, and Prince George by name, + Went next the King with all his train. + + And thus they to the Abbey went + To lay him in his silent tomb, + Where many inward sighs were spent + To think upon their dismal doom. + Whole showers of tears afresh then fell + When they beheld his last farewell. + + Since it is so, that all must die, + And must before our God appear, + Oh let us have a watchful eye, + Over our conversation here; + That like great Charles, our King and friend, + We all may have a happy end. + + Let England by their loyalty + Repair the breach which they did make; + And let us all united be + To gracious James, for Charles his sake; + And let there be no more discord, + But love the King and fear the Lord. + + Printed for F. Deacon in Guilt-Spur Street. + + + +“MEMENTO MORI.” + + + AN ELOGY ON THE DEATH OF HIS SACRED + MAJESTY KING CHARLES II., OF + BLESSED MEMORY. + + From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. + + UNWELCOME news! Whitehall its sable wears, + And each good subject lies dissolved in tears! + Justly indeed; for Charles is dead, the great, + (Who can so much as such great griefs repeat?) + King Charles the good, in whom that day there fell + More than one tribe in this our Israel! + Ah! cruel Death! we find thy fatal sting + In losing him who was so good a King,— + A King so wise, so just, and he’d great part + In Solomon’s wisdom and in David’s heart; + A King! whose virtues only to rehearse + Rather requires a volume than a verse. + Sprung from the loyns of Charles of blessed fame, + A worthy son of his great father’s name, + His parent’s and his grandsire’s virtues he, + As h’ did their crown, enjoy’d _ex traduce_, + Of th’ best and greatest of Kings the epitome. + His justice such as him none could affright + From doing t’all to God and subjects right. + Punish he could, but, like Heaven’s Majesty, + Would that a traitor should repent, not die. + His prudence to the laws due vigour gave, + He saved others and himself did save. + His valour and his courage, write who can? + Being a good souldier ere he was a man. + Wrestling with sorrows in a land unknown, + Whilst Herod did usurp his royal throne, + Banish’d his native country, every day, + Like Moses, at the brink of death he lay. + But that storm’s over, and blest be that hand + That gave him conduct to his peaceful land; + Where this great King the Gordian knot unties, + Of Heaven’s, the kingdom’s, and his enemies; + Not with the sword, but with his grace and love, + Giving to those their lives that for his strove: + Never did person so much mercy breath + Since our blest Saviour’s and his father’s death. + In fine, his actions may our pattern be, + His godly life, the Christian diary; + But now he’s dead, alas! our David’s gone, + And having served his generation, + Is fall’n asleep; that glorious star’s no more + That English wise men led unto the shore + Of peace, where gospel-truth’s protest + Cherished within our pious mother’s breast, + And with protection of such Kings still blest; + Blest with his piety and the nation too, + Happy in’s reign, with milk and honey flew; + Yea, blest so much with peace and nature’s store + Heaven could scarce give or we desire he more; + But yet, alas! he’s dead! Mourn, England, mourn, + And all your scarlet into black cloth turn; + Let dust and ashes with your tears comply. + To weep, not sing, his mournful elegy; + And let your love to Charles be shown hereby + In rendering James your prayers and loyalty. + Long may Great James these kingdoms’ sceptre sway, + And may his subjects lovingly obey, + Whilst with joint comfort all agree to sing, + Heaven bless these kingdoms and “God save the King!” + +London: printed by F. Millet for W. Thackeray, at the sign of the Angel +in Duck Lane, 1685. + + + +ACCESSION OF JAMES II. + + +From “Read’s Weekly Journal, or British Gazetteer.” Saturday, May 15th, +1731. This was a Jacobite Journal, and this song was reproduced at the +time, from an earlier period. The allusions are evidently to the death +of Charles II. and the succession of James II. + + WHAT means, honest shepherd, this cloud on thy brow? + Say, where is thy mirth and thy melody now? + Thy pipe thrown aside, and thy looks full of thought, + As silent and sad as a bird newly caught. + Has any misfortune befallen thy flocks, + Some lamb been betray’d by the craft of the fox; + Or murrain, more fatal, just seized on thy herd; + Or has thy dear Phyllis let slip a cross word? + + The season indeed may to musing incline, + Now that grey-bearded Winter makes Autumn resign; + The hills all around us their russet put on, + And the skies seem in mourning for loss of the sun. + The winds make the tree, where thou sitt’st, shake its head; + Yet tho’ with dry leaves mother earth’s lap is spread, + Her bosom, to cheer it, is verdant with wheat, + And the woods can supply us with pastime and meat. + + Oh! no, says the shepherd, I mourn none of these, + Content with such changes as Heaven shall please; + Tho’ now we have got the wrong side of the year, + ’Twill turn up again, and fresh beauties appear: + But the loss that I grieve for no time can restore; + Our master that lov’d us so well is no more; + That oak which we hop’d wou’d long shelter us all, + Is fallen; then well may we shake at its fall. + + Where find we a pastor so kind and so good, + So careful to feed us with wholesomest food, + To watch for our safety, and drive far away + The sly prouling fox that would make us his prey? + Oh! may his remembrance for ever remain + To shame those hard shepherds who, mindful of gain, + Only look at their sheep with an eye to the fleece, + And watch ’em but so as the fox watch’d the geese. + + Whom now shall I choose for the theme of my song? + Or must my poor pipe on the willow be hung? + No more to commend that good nature and sense, + Which always cou’d please, but ne’er once gave offence. + What honour directed he firmly pursu’d, + Yet would not his judgment on others intrude; + Still ready to help with his service and vote, + But ne’er to thrust oar in another man’s boat. + + No more, honest shepherd, these sorrows resound, + The virtues thou praisest, so hard to be found, + Are yet not all fled, for the swain who succeeds + To his fields and his herds is true heir to his deeds; + His pattern he’ll follow, his gentleness use, + Take care of the shepherds and cherish the muse: + Then cease for the dead thy impertinent care, + Rejoice, he survives in his brother and heir. + + + +ON THE MOST HIGH AND MIGHTY MONARCH +KING JAMES, +ON HIS EXALTATION ON THE THRONE OF ENGLAND. + + +Being an excellent new song. From a “Collection of One Hundred and +Eighty Loyal Songs, written since 1678.” + + To the tune of “Hark! the Thundering Cannons roar.” + + HARK! the bells and steeples ring! + A health to James our royal King; + Heaven approves the offering, + Resounding in chorus; + Let our sacrifice aspire, + Richest gems perfume the fire, + Angels and the sacred quire + Have led the way before us. + + Thro’ loud storms and tempests driven, + This wrong’d prince to us was given, + The mighty James, preserved by Heaven + To be a future blessing; + The anointed instrument, + Good great Charles to represent, + And fill our souls with that content + Which we are now possessing. + + Justice, plenty, wealth, and peace, + With the fruitful land’s increase, + All the treasures of the seas, + With him to us are given; + As the brother, just and good, + From whose royal father’s blood + Clemency runs like a flood, + A legacy from Heaven. + + Summon’d young to fierce alarms, + Born a man in midst of arms, + His good angels kept from harms— + The people’s joy and wonder; + Early laurels crown’d his brow, + And the crowd did praise allow, + Whilst against the Belgick foe + Great Jove implored his thunder. + + Like him none e’er fill’d the throne, + Never courage yet was known + With so much conduct met in one, + To claim our due devotion; + Who made the Belgick lion roar, + Drove ’em back to their own shore, + To humble and encroach no more + Upon the British ocean. + + When poor Holland first grew proud, + Saucy, insolent, and loud, + Great James subdued the boisterous crowd, + The foaming ocean stemming; + His country’s glory and its good + He valued dearer than his blood, + And rid sole sovereign o’er his flood, + In spight of French or Fleming. + + When he the foe had overcome, + Brought them peace and conquest home, + Exiled in foreign parts to roam, + Ungrateful rebels vote him; + But spite of all their insolence, + Inspired with god-like patience, + The rightful heir, kind Providence + Did to a throne promote him. + + May justice at his elbow wait + To defend the Church and State, + The subject and this monarch’s date + May no storm e’er dissever: + May he long adorn this place + With his royal brother’s grace, + His mercy and his tenderness, + To rule this land for ever. + + + +IN A SUMMER’S DAY. + + + From Hogg’s Jacobite Relics. + + IN a summer’s day when all was gay + The lads and lasses met + In a flowery mead, when each lovely maid + Was by her true love set. + Dick took the glass, and drank to his lass, + And _Jamie’s_ health around did pass; + Huzza! they cried; Huzza! they all replied, + God bless our noble King. + + To the Queen, quothiwell; Drink it off, says Nell, + They say she is wondrous pretty; + And the prince, says Hugh; That’s right, says Sue; + God send him home, says Katy; + May the powers above this tribe remove, + And send us back the man we love. + Huzza! they cried; Huzza! they all replied, + God bless our noble King. + + The liquor spent, they to dancing went, + Each gamester took his mate; + Ralph bow’d to Moll, and Hodge to Doll, + Hal took out black-eyed Kate. + Name your dance, quoth John; Bid him, says Anne, + Play, The King shall enjoy his own again. + Huzza! they cried; Huzza! they all replied, + God bless our noble King. + + * * * * * + + THE END. + + * * * * * + + JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. + + * * * * * + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +{1} This stanza is omitted in most collections. Walker was a colonel in +the parliamentary army; and afterwards a member of the Committee of +Safety. + +{2} The Directory for the Public Worship of God, ordered by the Assembly +of Divines at Westminster in 1644, to supersede the Book of Common +Prayer. + +{3} The Earl of Thomond. + +{4} The Excise, first introduced by the Long Parliament, was +particularly obnoxious to the Tory party. Dr Johnson more than a hundred +years later shared all the antipathy of his party to it, and in his +Dictionary defined it to be “a hateful tax levied upon commodities, and +adjudged not by the common judges of property, but by wretches hired by +those to whom excise is paid.” + +{5} Henry the Eighth. The comparison is made in other ballads of the +age. To play old Harry with any one is a phrase that seems to have +originated with those who suffered by the confiscation of church +property. + +{6} The Marquis of Winchester, the brave defender of his house at +Basing, had been made prisoner by Cromwell at the storming of that house +in 1645. Waller had been foiled in his attempt on this place in the year +preceding.—T. W. + +{7} Sir John Ogle, one of the Royalist commanders, who was intrusted +with the defence of Winchester Castle, which he surrendered on conditions +just before the siege of Basing House.—T. W. + +{8} Wren, bishop of Ely, was committed to the Tower in 1641, accused +with high “misdemeanours” in his diocese. + +{9} David Jenkins, a Welsh Judge, who had been made prisoner at the +taking of Hereford, and committed first to Newgate and afterwards to the +Tower. He refused to acknowledge the authority of the Parliament, and +was the author of several tracts published during the year (while he was +prisoner in the Tower), which made a great noise.—T. W. + +{10} Sir Francis Wortley, Bart., was made a prisoner in 1644, at the +taking of Walton House, near Wakefield, by Sir Thomas Fairfax. + +{11} Sir Edward Hales, Bart., of Woodchurch, in Kent, had been member +for Queenborough in the Isle of Sheppey. He was not a Royalist. + +{12} Sir George Strangways, Bart., according to the marginal note in the +original. Another of the name, Sir John Strangways, was taken at the +surrender of Sherborne Castle. + +{13} Sir Henry Bedingfield, Bart., of Norfolk; Sir Walter Blount, Bart., +of Worcester; and Sir Francis Howard, Bart., of the North, were committed +to the Tower on the 22nd of January, 1646. + +{14} The horrible barbarities committed by the Irish rebels had made the +Catholics so much abhorred in England, that every English member of that +community was suspected of plotting the same massacres in England.—T. W. + +{15} Sir John Hewet, of Huntingdonshire, was committed to the Tower on +the 28th of January, 1645(–6). + +{16} Sir Thomas Lunsford, Bart., the celebrated Royalist officer, was +committed to the Tower on the 22nd of January, 1646. The violence and +barbarities which he and his troop were said to have perpetrated led to +the popular belief that he was in the habit of eating children. + + From Fielding and from Vavasour, + Both ill-affected men; + From Lunsford eke dilver us, + That eateth up children. + Loyal Songs, ed. 1731, i. 38. + + T. W. + +{17} Sir William Lewis, one of the eleven members who had been impeached +by the army. + +{18} Col. Giles Strangwaies, of Dorsetshire, taken with Sir Lewis Dives, +at the surrender of Sherborne, was committed to the Tower on the 28th +August, 1645. He was member for Bridport in the Long Parliament, and was +one of those who attended Charles’s “Mongrel” Parliament at Oxford. + +{19} Sir Lewis Dives, an active Royalist, was governor of Sherborne +Castle for the King, and had been made a prisoner by Fairfax in August, +1645, when that fortress was taken by storm. He was brother-in-law to +Lord Digby. + +{20} Sir John Morley, of Newcastle, committed to the Tower on the 18th +of July, 1645. + +{21} King was a Royalist general, in the north, who was slain July, +1643. + +{22} Sir William Morton, of Gloucestershire, committed to the Tower on +the 17th August, 1644. Cardinal Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury, +brought about the marriage between King Henry VII. and the daughter of +Edward IV., and thus effected the unison of the rival houses of York and +Lancaster. + +{23} Thomas Coningsby, Esq., of Northmyus in Hertfordshire, committed to +the Tower in November, 1642, for reading the King’s commission of array +in that county. + +{24} Sir Wingfield Bodenham, of the county of Rutland, committed to the +Tower on the 31st of July, 1643. + +{25} Sir Henry Vaughan, a Welsh knight, committed to the Tower on the +18th July, 1645. + +{26} Lilburn was, as has been observed, in the Tower for his practices +against the present order of things, he being an advocate of extreme +democratic principles; and he was there instructed in knotty points of +law by Judge Jenkins, to enable him to torment and baffle the party in +power. It was Jenkins who said of Lilburne that “If the world were +emptied of all but John Lilburne, Lilburne would quarrel with John, and +John with Lilburne.”—T. W. + +{27} Mr Thomas Violet, of London, goldsmith, committed to the Tower +January 6th, 1643(–4), for carrying a letter from the King to the mayor +and common council of London. + +{28} Dr Hudson had been concerned in the King’s transactions with the +Scots, previous to his delivering himself up to them, and he and +Ashburnham had been his sole attendants in his flight from Oxford for +that purpose.—T. W. + +{29} Poyntz and Massey were staunch Presbyterians, and their party +counted on their assistance in opposing the army: but they withdrew, when +the quarrel seemed to be near coming to extremities. + +{30} Glynn was one of the eleven members impeached by the army. + +{31} It was believed at this time that Fairfax was favourable to the +restoration of the King. + +{32} The “Jack Ketch” of the day. + +{33} The copy in the “Rump Songs” has “Smee and his tub.” + +{34} The old proverbial expression of “the devil and his dam” was +founded on an article of popular superstition which is now obsolete. In +1598, a Welshman, or borderer, writes to Lord Burghley for leave “to +drive the devill and his dam” from the castle of Skenfrith, where they +were said to watch over hidden treasure: “The voyce of the countrey goeth +there is a dyvell and his dame, one sitts upon a hogshed of gold, the +other upon a hogshed of silver.” (Queen Elizabeth and her Times, ii. +397.) The expression is common in our earlier dramatic poets: thus +Shakespeare,— + + —“I’ll have a bout with thee; + Devil, or devil’s dam, I’ll conjure thee: + Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch.” + + (Hen. V. Part I. Act I. sc. 5.) + T. W. + +{35} The prediction was not _quite_ so speedily verified. + +{36} Colonel Hewson, originally a shoemaker. + +{37} Newspapers. + +{38} In the seventeenth century Lancashire enjoyed an unhappy +pre-eminence in the annals of superstition, and it was regarded +especially as a land of witches. This fame appears to have originated +partly in the execution of a number of persons in 1612, who were +pretended to have been associated together in the crime of witchcraft, +and who held their unearthly meetings at the Malkin Tower, in the forest +of Pendle. In 1613 was published an account of the trials, in a thick +pamphlet, entitled “The Wonderful Discoverie of Witches in the Countie of +Lancaster. With the Arraignment and Triall of nineteene notorious +Witches, at the Assizes and general Goale Deliverie, holden in the Castle +of Lancaster, on Monday, the seventeenth of August last, 1612. Published +and set forth by commandment of his Majesties Justices of Assize in the +North Parts, by Thomas Potts, Esquier.” “The famous History of the +Lancashire Witches” continued to be popular as a chap-book up to the +beginning of the nineteenth century.—T. WRIGHT. + +{39} An allusion to the Dutch War of 1651 and 1652. + +{40} Oliver Cromwell. + +{41} The Welsh were frequently the subject of satirical allusions during +the civil wars and the Commonwealth. + +{42} Speaker of the Long Parliament. + +{43} Cromwell’s wife. + +{44} Cromwell’s two sons, Richard and Henry. + +{45} Cromwell’s daughter. + +{46} Col. Pride, originally a brewer’s drayman. + +{47} Walter Strickland, M.P. for a Cornish borough. + +{48} Monk was with his troops in Scotland, but had declared himself an +approver of the proceedings of the Parliament. + +{49} Dr John Owen, Joseph Caryl, and Philip Nye, were three of the most +eminent divines of this eventful age. Caryl, who was a moderate +independent, was the author of the well-known “Commentary on Job.” Dr +Owen enjoyed the especial favour of Cromwell, who made him Dean of +Christchurch, Oxford; in his youth he had shown an inclination to +Presbyterianism, but early in the war he embraced the party of the +Independents. He was a most prolific writer. Nye was also an eminent +writer: previous to 1647 he had been a zealous Presbyterian, but on the +rise of Cromwell’s influence he joined the Independents, and was employed +on several occasions by that party.—T. W. + +{50} Col. John Ireton was the brother of the more celebrated Henry +Ireton, and was an alderman of London. He appears to have been clerk of +the Council of Officers at Wallingford House. + +{51} Col. Robert Tichbourne was also an alderman, and had been Lord +Mayor in 1658. He was an enthusiast in religion of the Independent +party, and published several books, among which one was very celebrated, +and is often referred to in the tracts of this period, entitled, “A +Cluster of Canaan’s Grapes. Being severall experimented truths received +through private communion with God by his Spirit, grounded on Scripture, +and presented to open view for publique edification.” London, 4to, Feb. +16, 1649. In a satirical tract of the year 1660 he is made to say, “I +made my mother, the city, drunk with the clusters which I brought from +Canaan, and she in her drink made me a colonel.” After the return of the +secluded members to the House, and the triumph of the city and the +Presbyterian party, Ireton and Tichbourne were committed to the Tower, +charged with aiming at the overthrow of the liberties of the city, and +other grave misdemeanours. There are in the British Museum two satirical +tracts relating to their imprisonment: 1. “The Apology of Robert Tichborn +and John Ireton. Being a serious Vindication of themselves and the Good +old Cause, from the imputations cast upon them and it by the triumphing +city and nation in this their day of desertion. Printed for everybody +but the light-heeled apprentices and head-strong masters of this wincing +city of London.” (March 12, 1659–60.) 2. “Brethren in Iniquity: or, a +Beardless Pair; held forth in a Dialogue betwixt Tichburn and Ireton, +Prisoners in the Tower of London.” 4to. (April 30, 1660.) + +{52} George Monk and John Lambert. + +{53} The eleventh of February was the day on which Monck overthrew the +Rump, by declaring for the admission of the secluded members. + +{54} On the tenth of February Monk, by order of the Parliament, had +entered the city in a hostile manner. “Mr Fage told me,” says Pepys, +“what Monck had done in the city, how he had pulled down the most parts +of the gates and chains that he could break down, and that he was now +gone back to Whitehall. The city look mighty blank, and cannot tell what +in the world to do.” The next day he turned from the Parliament, and +took part with the city. + +{55} Thomas Scot and Luke Robinson were sent by the Parliament to +expostulate with Monk, but without effect. + +{56} Pepys gives the following description of the rejoicings in the city +on the evening of the eleventh of February:—“In Cheapside there were a +great many bonfires, and Bow bells and all the bells in all the churches +as we went home were a-ringing. Hence we went homewards, it being about +ten at night. But the common joy that was everywhere to be seen! The +number of bonfires! there being fourteen between St Dunstan’s and Temple +Bar, and at Strand Bridge I could at one time tell thirty-one fires. In +King-street seven or eight; and all along burning, and roasting, and +drinking for Rumps, there being rumps tied upon sticks and carried up and +down. The butchers at the May Pole in the Strand rang a peal with their +knives when they were going to sacrifice their rump. On Ludgate Hill +there was one turning of a spit that had a rump tied upon it, and another +basting of it. Indeed it was past imagination, both the greatness and +the suddenness of it. At one end of the street you would think there was +a whole lane of fire, and so hot that we were fain to keep on the further +side.” + +{57} In a satirical tract, entitled “Free Parliament Quæries,” 4to, +April 10, 1660, it is inquired “Whether Sir Arthur did not act the Raging +Turk in Westminster Hall, when he saw the admission of the secluded +members?” Pepys gives the following account of the reception of Monck’s +letter from the city on the 11th of February:—“So I went up to the lobby, +where I saw the Speaker reading of the letter; and after it was read Sir +A. Haselrigge came out very angry, and Billing, standing by the door, +took him by the arm and cried, ‘Thou man, will thy beast carry thee no +longer? thou must fall!’” + +{58} Haselrigge was accused of having been a dupe to Monck’s cunning +intrigues. + +{59} The celebrated Praise-God Barebone, at the head of a body of +fanatics, had (February 9th) presented a strong petition to the House in +support of the Good old Cause, which gave great offence to the +Presbyterian party and the citizens, although it was received with +thanks. According to Pepys, one of Monck’s complaints against the +Parliament was, “That the late petition of the fanatique people presented +by Barebone, for the imposing of an oath upon all sorts of people, was +received by the House with thanks.” The citizens did not omit to show +their hostility against the presenter of the petition. On the 12th, +Pepys says, “Charles Glascocke . . . told me the boys had last night +broke Barebone’s windows.” And again, on the 22nd, “I observed this day +how abominably Barebone’s windows are broke again last night.” + +{60} Miles Corbet, as well as Tichbourn, had sat upon the King in +judgment. In a satirical tract, published about the same time as the +present ballad, Tichbourn is made to say, “They say I am as notorious as +Miles Corbet the Jew.” In another, entitled “The Private Debates, etc., +of the Rump,” 4to, April 2, 1660, we read, “Call in the Jews, cryes +Corbet, there is a certain sympathy (quoth he), methinks, between them +and me. Those wandering pedlers and I were doubtless made of the same +mould; they have all such blote-herring faces as myself, and the devil +himself is in ’um for cruelty.” He was one of those who fled on the +Restoration, but he was afterwards taken treacherously in Holland, and, +being brought to London, was executed as a regicide. In another +satirical tract, entitled “A Continuation of the Acts and Monuments of +our late Parliament” (Dec. 1659), it is stated that, “July 1, This very +day the House made two serjeants-at-law, William Steele and Miles Corbet, +and that was work enough for one day.” And, in a fourth, “Resolved, That +Miles Corbet and Robert Goodwin be freed from the trouble of the Chief +Register Office in Chancery.” _Mercurius Honestus_, No. 1. (March 21, +1659–60.) + +{61} William Lord Monson, Viscount Castlemaine, was member for Ryegate +in the Long Parliament. He was degraded from his honour at the +Restoration, and was condemned to be drawn on a sledge with a rope round +his neck from the Tower to Tyburn, and back again, and to be imprisoned +there for life. It appears, by the satirical tracts of the day, that he +was chiefly famous for being beaten by his wife. In one, entitled “Your +Servant, Gentlemen,” 4to, 1659, it is asked, “Whether that member who +lives nearest the church ought not to ride Skimmington next time my Lady +Mounson cudgels her husband?” And in another (“The Rump Despairing,” +4to, London, March 26, 1660) we find the following passage:—“To my Lord +Monson. A sceptre is one thing, and a ladle is another, and though his +wife can tell how to use one, yet he is not fit to hold the other.” + +{62} Pudding John, or Jack Pudding, was a proverbial expression of the +times for a Merry Andrew. In an old English-German Dictionary it is +explained thus:—“_Jack-Pudding_, un buffon de theatre, deliciæ populi, +ein Hanswurst, Pickelhering.” The term was applied as a soubriquet to +any man who played the fool to serve another person’s ends. “And first +Sir Thomas Wrothe (_Jack Pudding_ to Prideaux the post-master) had his +cue to go high, and feele the pulse of the hous.” History of +Independency, p. 69 (4to, 1648). + +{63} An allusion to James Harrington’s “Oceana.” + +{64} James Harrington, a remarkable political writer of this time, had +founded a club called the Rota, in 1659, for the debating of political +questions. This club met at Miles’s Coffee-house, in Old Palace Yard, +and lasted a few mouths. At the beginning of the present year was +published the result of their deliberations, under the title of “The +Rota: or, a Model of a Free State, or Equall Commonwealth; once proposed +and debated in brief, and to be again more at large proposed to, and +debated by, a free and open Society of ingenious Gentlemen.” 4to, +London, 1660 (Jan. 9). + +{65} William Prynne, the lawyer, who had been so active a member of the +Long Parliament when the Presbyterians were in power, was one of the +secluded members. He returned to the House on the 21st of January, this +year. Pepys says, “Mr Prin came with an old basket-hilt sword on, and +had a great many shouts upon his going into the hall.” + +{66} John Wilde was one of the members for Worcestershire in the Long +Parliament. In Cromwell’s last Parliament he represented Droitwich, and +was made by the Protector “Lord Chief Baron of the publick Exchequer.” +In a satirical pamphlet, contemporary with the present ballad, he is +spoken of as “Sarjeant Wilde, best known by the name of the Wilde +Serjeant.” Another old song describes his personal appearance: + + “But, Baron Wild, come out here, + Show your ferret face and snout here, + For you, being both a fool and a knave, + Are a monster in the rout here.” + + Loyal songs II. 55. + +{67} See footnote {60}. + +{68} Alderman Atkins. + +{69} Ludlow was well known as a staunch Republican. The incident +alluded to was a subject of much merriment, and exercised the pen of some +of the choicest poets of the latter half of the seventeenth century.—T. +W. + +{70} Lambert, with his army, was in the North, and amid the +contradictory intelligence which daily came in, we find some people who, +according to Pepys, spread reports that Lambert was gaining strength.—T. +W. + +{71} Marchamont Nedham. + +{72} Lambert and “his bears” are frequently mentioned in the satirical +writings of this period. Cromwell is said to have sworn “by the living +God,” when he dissolved the Long Parliament.—T. W. + +{73} Speaker of the Long Parliament. + +{74} Harry Marten, member for Berkshire, a man of equivocal private +character. In the heat of the civil wars he had been committed to the +Tower for a short time by the Parliament, for speaking too openly against +the person of the King. When he attempted to speak against the violent +dissolution of the Long Parliament by Cromwell, the latter reproached him +with the licentiousness of his life.—T. W. + +{75} William Lord Monson, Viscount Castlemaine, was member for Ryegate. +He was degraded from his honours at the Restoration, and was condemned to +be drawn on a sledge with a rope round his neck from the Tower to Tyburn, +and back again, and to be imprisoned there for life. It appears, by the +satirical tracts of the day, that he was chiefly famous for being beaten +by his wife.—T. W. + +{76} Sir Arthur Haselrigge, member for Leicestershire. + +{77} Noise or disturbance. + +{78} Dr John Hewit, an episcopal clergyman, executed for high treason in +1658, for having held an active correspondence with the Royalists abroad, +and having zealously contributed to the insurrection headed by +Penruddock. + +{79} John Lowry, member for Cambridge. + +{80} Sir Edmund Prideaux, Bart., member for Lyme Regis. He was +Cromwell’s Attorney-General. + +{81} Oliver St John, member for Totness, and Lord Chief Justice of the +Common Pleas. + +{82} John Wilde, one of the members for Worcestershire. In Cromwell’s +last Parliament he represented Droitwich, and was made by the Protector +“Lord Chief Baron of the Public Exchequer.” + +{83} Sir Henry Slingsby and Dr Hewet were executed for treason against +the government of Oliver Cromwell in 1658. Colonel John Gerard was +brought to the block at the beginning of the Protectorate, in 1654, for +being engaged in a plot to assassinate Cromwell. + +{84} John Lord Lisle represented Yarmouth in the Long Parliament. He +sat for Kent in the Parliament of 1653, and was afterwards a member of +Cromwell’s “other House,” and held the office of Lord Commissioner of the +Great Seal. He was president of the High Courts of Justice which tried +Gerard, Slingsby, and Hewet. + +{85} Nathaniel Fiennes, member for Banbury. In the Parliament of 1654 +he represented Oxfordshire. He was afterwards, as Nathaniel Lord +Fiennes, a member of Cromwell’s “other House.” Fiennes was accused of +cowardice in surrendering Bristol (of which he was governor) to Prince +Rupert, somewhat hastily, in 1643. His father, Lord Say and Sele, +opposing Cromwell, was obliged to retire to the Isle of Lundy. + +{86} John Lord Glynn, member of Cromwell’s “other House,” was “Chief +Justice assigned to hold pleas in the Upper Bench.” He was engaged in +the prosecution of the Earl of Strafford. He was one of the eleven +members impeached by the army in 1647. In the Long Parliament, as well +as in Cromwell’s Parliaments, he was member for Carnarvon.—T. W. + +{87} Henry Nevil, member for Abingdon. In Cromwell’s last Parliament he +represented Reading. In a satirical tract, he is spoken of as “religious +Harry Nevill;” and we find in Burton’s Diary, that some months before the +date of the present song (on the 16th Feb. 1658–9) there was “a great +debate” on a charge of atheism and blasphemy which had been brought +against him.—T. W. + +{88} In the satirical tract entitled “England’s Confusion,” this member +is described as “hastily rich Cornelius Holland.” He appears to have +risen from a low station, and is characterized in the songs of the day as +having been a link-bearer.—T. W. + +{89} Major Salwey was an officer in the Parliamentary array. On the +17th January, 1660, he incurred the displeasure of the House, and was +sequestered from his seat and sent to the Tower. He is described as “a +smart, prating apprentice, newly set for himself.” He appears to have +been originally a grocer and tobacconist; a ballad of the time speaks of +him as, + + “Salloway with tobacco + Inspired, turned State quack-o; + And got more by his feigned zeal + Then by his, _What d’ye lack-o_?” + +In another he is introduced thus, + + “The tobacco-man Salway, with a heart tall of gall + Puffs down bells, steeples, priests, churches and all, + As old superstitions relicks of Baal.” + +A third ballad, alluding to his attitude in the House, couples together + + “Mr William Lilly’s astrological lyes, + And the meditations of Salloway biting his thumbs.”—T. W. + +{90} Roger Hill was member for Bridport, in Dorsetshire. He bought a +grant of the Bishop of Winchester’s manor of Taunton Dean, valued at 1200 +pounds a year. A ballad written towards the end of 1659 says of him, + + “Baron Hill was but a valley, + And born scarce to an alley; + But now is lord of Taunton Dean, + And thousands he can rally.” + +{91} With the revival of the Long Parliament, the old Republican +feelings arose again under the denomination of the “Good old Cause.” +Innumerable pamphlets were published for and against “The Cause.” Even +Prynne, the fierce old Presbyterian, who was now turning against the +patriots, lifted up his pen against it, and published “The Republicans +and others spurious Good old Cause briefly and truly Anatomized,” 4to, +May 13, 1659. + +{92} Robert Cecil, Esq., was one of the members of the Old Long +Parliament who were now brought together to form the Rump. He +represented Old Sarum, Wilts. + +{93} Luke Robinson, of Pickering Lyth, in Yorkshire, was member for +Scarborough. An old ballad says of him, + + “Luke Robinson, that clownado, + Though his heart be a granado, + Yet a high shoe with his hand in his poke + Is his most perfect shadow.” + +{94} Sir Harry Vane. + +{95} Thomas Scott was member for Aylesbury, in Buckinghamshire, in the +Long Parliament. + +{96} Hugh Peters, the celebrated fanatic. In the margin of the +original, opposite to the words “the Devil’s fees,” is the following +note—“His numps and his kidneys.”—T. W. + +{97} To save his tithe pig:—probably the origin of the well known slang +phrase of the present day. + +{98} Coloured, or dyed. + +{99} Faustus. + +{100} An allusion to a popular old story and song. A copy of the words +and tune of “The Fryar and the Nun” is preserved in the valuable +collection of ballads in the possession of Mr Thorpe of Piccadilly.—T. +W. + +{101} “October 13th. I went out to Charing Cross to see Major-General +Harrison hanged, drawn, and quartered, which was done there, he looking +as cheerful as any man could do in that condition.”—Pepys. Thomas +Harrison was the son of a butcher at Newcastle-under-Line; he conveyed +Charles I. from Windsor to Whitehall to his trial, and afterwards sat as +one of the judges. + +{102} “October 15th. This morning Mr Carew was hanged and quartered at +Charing Cross; but his quarters, by a great favour, are not to be hanged +up.”—Pepys. Colonel John Carew, like Harrison, was one of the +Fifth-monarchy men, a violent and visionary but honest enthusiast. + +{103} Hugh Peters, for his zeal in encouraging the Commonwealth +soldiery, was particularly hated by the Royalists. John Coke, the able +lawyer, conducted the prosecution of the King. + +{104} Gregory Clement, John Jones, Thomas Scott, and Adrian Scrope, were +charged with sitting in the High Court of Justice which tried the King. +Scott was further charged with having, during the sitting of the Rump +Parliament, expressed his approbation of the sentence against the King. +Colonel Scrope, although he had been admitted to pardon, was selected as +one of the objects of vengeance, and was condemned chiefly on a reported +conversation, in which, when one person had strongly blamed what he +called the “murder” of the King, Scrope observed, “Some are of one +opinion, and some of another.” + +{105} “October 19th. This morning Hacker and Axtell were hanged and +quartered, as the rest are.”—Pepys. Colonel Francis Hacker commanded the +guards at the King’s execution. Axtell was captain of the guard of the +High Court of Justice at which the King was tried. + +{106} Richard Brown, one of Cromwell’s Major-generals, Governor of +Abingdon, and member for London in the Long Parliament. He had been +imprisoned by the Rump. + +{107} The Earl of Norwich was George Lord Goring, who, with his son, +acted a prominent part in the Civil Wars. He was created Earl of Norwich +in 1644. + +{108} John Mordaunt, son of the Earl of Peterborough, celebrated for his +exertions to raise insurrections for the King during the Protectorate, +was one of the bearers of the letters of the King to Monck. He was +created Baron Mordaunt, July 10, 1659. Charles Lord Gerard, afterwards +created Earl of Macclesfield, was a very distinguished Royalist officer. +Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Cleveland, who had suffered much for his +loyalty to Charles I., headed a body of three hundred noblemen and +gentlemen in the triumphal procession of Charles II. into London. + +{109} Charles Stuart, a gallant Royalist officer, who had been created +Earl of Litchfield by Charles I. in 1645, and who immediately after the +Restoration succeeded his cousin Esme Stuart as Duke of Richmond. +Charles Stanley, Earl of Derby, was son of the Earl of Derby who was +beheaded after the battle of Worcester, and of the Countess who so +gallantly defended Latham House in 1644. + +{110} The Nursery Rhyme, “The Man in the Moon drinks claret.” + +{111} Philip Nye. + +{112} William Kiffin was a celebrated preacher of this time, and had +been an officer in the Parliamentary army. A little before the +publication of the present ballad a tract had appeared, with the title, +“The Life and Approaching Death of William Kiffin. Extracted out of the +Visitation Book by a Church Member.” 4to, London, March 13, 1659–60. He +is here said to have been originally ’prentice to a glover, and to have +been in good credit with Cromwell, who made him a lieutenant-colonel. He +appears to have been busy among the sectaries at the period of the +Restoration. He is thus mentioned in a satirical pamphlet of that time, +entitled “Select City Quæries:”—“Whether the Anabaptists’ late manifesto +can be said to be forged, false, and scandalous (as Politicus terms it), +it being well known to be writ by one of Kiffin’s disciples; and whether +the author thereof or Politicus may be accounted the greater +incendiary?”—T. W. + +{113} Fox and Naylor were the founders of the sect of Quakers. Naylor, +in particular, was celebrated as an enthusiast. Jacob Boehmen, or +Behmen, was a celebrated German visionary and enthusiast, who lived at +the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth centuries, and +the founder of a sect. + +{114} There was a story that Charles II. was really married to Lucy +Walters, the mother of the Duke of Monmouth, and that the contract of +marriage was in existence in a “black box,” in the custody of the Bishop +of Durham, suggested apparently by the endeavours of that Bishop to +change the succession to the crown in favour of the Duke of Monmouth, to +the exclusion of James II. + +{115} Titus Oates, the inventor of the Popish plot. + +{116} Patience Ward, the alderman. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAVALIER SONGS AND BALLADS OF +ENGLAND*** + + +******* This file should be named 1030-0.txt or 1030-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/3/1030 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: The Cavalier Songs and Ballads of England + from 1642 to 1684 + + +Author: Various + +Editor: Charles Mackay + +Release Date: February 22, 2015 [eBook #1030] +[This file was first posted on September 2, 1997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAVALIER SONGS AND BALLADS OF +ENGLAND*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1863 Griffin Bohn and Co. edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>The<br /> +CAVALIER SONGS AND BALLADS<br /> +OF ENGLAND</h1> +<p style="text-align: center">FROM 1642 TO 1684</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">EDITED +BY</span><br /> +CHARLES MACKAY<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">LL.D.</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON<br /> +GRIFFIN BOHN AND CO<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">STATIONERS’ HALL COURT</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">1863.</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="pageii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. ii</span><span class="GutSmall">JOHN CHILDS +AND SON, PRINTERS.</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<h2><a name="pageiii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +iii</span>INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Cavalier Ballads of England, +like the Jacobite Ballads of England and Scotland at a later +period, are mines of wealth for the student of the history and +social manners of our ancestors. The rude but often +beautiful political lyrics of the early days of the Stuarts were +far more interesting and important to the people who heard or +repeated them, than any similar compositions can be in our +time. When the printing press was the mere vehicle of +polemics for the educated minority, and when the daily journal +was neither a luxury of the poor, a necessity of the rich, nor an +appreciable power in the formation and guidance of public +opinion, the song and the ballad appealed to the passion, if not +to the intellect of the masses, and instructed them in all the +leading events of the time. In our day the people need no +information <a name="pageiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +iv</span>of the kind, for they procure it from the more readily +available and more copious if not more reliable, source of the +daily and weekly press. The song and ballad have ceased to +deal with public affairs. No new ones of the kind are made +except as miserable parodies and burlesques that may amuse sober +costermongers and half-drunken men about town, who frequent music +saloons at midnight, but which are offensive to every one +else. Such genuine old ballads as remain in the popular +memory are either fast dying out, or relate exclusively to the +never-to-be-superseded topics of love, war, and wine. The +people of our day have little heart or appreciation for song, +except in Scotland and Ireland. England and America are too +prosaic and too busy, and the masses, notwithstanding all their +supposed advantages in education, are much too vulgar to delight +in either song or ballad that rises to the dignity of +poetry. They appreciate the buffooneries of the +“Negro Minstrelsy,” and the inanities and the +vapidities of sentimental love songs, but the elegance of such +writers as Thomas Moore, and the force of such vigorous thinkers +and tender lyrists as Robert Burns, are above their sphere, and +are left to scholars in their closets and ladies in their +drawing-rooms. The case was different among our ancestors +<a name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. v</span>in the +memorable period of the struggle for liberty that commenced in +the reign of Charles I. The Puritans had the pulpit on +their side, and found it a powerful instrument. The +Cavaliers had the song writers on theirs, and found them equally +effective. And the song and ballad writers of that day were +not always illiterate versifiers. Some of them were the +choicest wits and most accomplished gentlemen of the +nation. As they could not reach the ears of their +countrymen by the printed book, the pamphlet, or the newspaper, +nor mount the pulpit and dispute with Puritanism on its own +ground and in its own precincts, they found the song, the ballad, +and the epigram more available among a musical and song-loving +people such as the English then were, and trusted to these to +keep up the spirit of loyalty in the evil days of the royal +cause, to teach courage in adversity, and cheerfulness in all +circumstances, and to ridicule the hypocrites whom they could not +shame, and the tyrants whom they could not overthrow. +Though many thousands of these have been preserved in the +King’s Pamphlets in the British Museum, and in other +collections which have been freely ransacked for the materials of +the following pages, as many thousands more have undoubtedly +perished. <a name="pagevi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +vi</span>Originally printed as broadsides, and sold for a +halfpenny at country fairs, it used to be the fashion of the +peasantry to paste them up in cupboards, or on the backs of +doors, and farmers’ wives, as well as servant girls and +farm labourers, who were able to read, would often paste them on +the lids of their trunks, as the best means of preserving +them. This is one reason why so many of them have been lost +without recovery. To Sir W. C. Trevelyan literature is +indebted for the restoration of a few of these waifs and strays, +which he found pasted in an old trunk of the days of Cromwell, +and which he carefully detached and presented to the British +Museum. But a sufficient number of these flying leaves of +satire, sentiment, and loyalty have reached our time, to throw a +curious and instructive light upon the feelings of the men who +resisted the progress of the English Revolution; and who made +loyalty to the person of the monarch, even when the monarch was +wrong, the first of the civic virtues. In the +superabundance of the materials at command, as will be seen from +the appended list of books and MSS. which have been consulted and +drawn upon to form this collection, the difficulty was to keep +within bounds, and to select only such specimens as merited a +place in a volume necessarily limited, by <a +name="pagevii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. vii</span>their +celebrity, their wit, their beauty, their historical interest, or +the light they might happen to throw on the obscure biography of +the most remarkable actors in the scenes which they +describe. It would be too much to claim for these ballads +the exalted title of poetry. They are not poetical in the +highest sense of the word, and possibly would not have been so +effective for the purpose which they were intended to serve, if +their writers had been more fanciful and imaginative, or less +intent upon what they had to say than upon the manner of saying +it. But if not extremely poetical, they are extremely +national, and racy of the soil; and some of them are certain to +live as long as the language which produced them. For the +convenience of reference and consultation they have been arranged +chronologically; beginning with the discontents that inaugurated +the reign of Charles I., and following regularly to the final, +though short-lived, triumph of the Cavalier cause, in the +accession of James II. After his ill-omened advent to the +throne, the Cavalier became the Jacobite. In this +collection no Jacobite songs, properly so called, are included, +it being the intention of the publishers to issue a companion +volume, of the Jacobite Ballads of England, from the accession of +James II. to the battle of <a name="pageviii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. viii</span>Culloden, should the public receive +the present volume with sufficient favour to justify the +venture.</p> +<p>The Editor cannot, in justice to previous fellow-labourers, +omit to record his obligation to the interesting volume, with its +learned annotations, contributed by Mr Thomas Wright to the Percy +Society; or to another and equally valuable collection, edited by +Mr J. O. Halliwell.</p> +<p><i>December</i>, 1862.</p> +<h2><a name="pagexi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xi</span>CONTENTS.</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>When the King enjoys his own again</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>,, comes home in Peace again</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page4">4</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>I love my King and Country well</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page6">6</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Commoners</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page8">8</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Royalist</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page10">10</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The New Courtier</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page11">11</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Upon the Cavaliers departing out of London</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page13">13</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Mad World, my Masters</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page14">14</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Man O’ The Moon</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page16">16</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Tub-Preacher</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page18">18</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The New Litany</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page20">20</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Old Protestant’s Litany</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page23">23</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Vive Le Roy</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page27">27</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Cavalier</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page28">28</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Caveat to the Roundheads</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page31">31</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Hey, then, up go we</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page32">32</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Clean Contrary Way, or, Colonel Venne’s +Encouragement to his Soldiers</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page35">35</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Cameronian Cat</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page37">37</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Royal Feast</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page39">39</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Upon His Majesty’s coming to Holmby</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page50">50</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>I thank you twice</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page51">51</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Cities Loyaltie to the King</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page52">52</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><a name="pagexii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xii</span>The Lawyers’ Lamentation for the Loss of +Charing-Cross</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page55">55</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Downfal of Charing-Cross</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page56">56</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Long Parliament</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page58">58</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Puritan</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page61">61</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Roundhead</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page64">64</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Prattle your pleasure under the rose</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page65">65</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Dominion of the Sword</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page67">67</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The State’s New Coin</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page70">70</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Anarchie, or the Blest Reformation since 1640</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page71">71</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Coffin for King Charles, a Crown For Cromwell, And A Pit +For The People</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page76">76</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Short Litany For The Year 1649</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page81">81</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Sale of Rebellion’s Household Stuff</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page82">82</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Cavalier’s Farewell to his Mistress, being +called to the Wars</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page86">86</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Last News from France</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page87">87</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Song to the Figure Two</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page91">91</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Reformation</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page94">94</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Upon the General Pardon passed by the Rump</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page98">98</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>An Old Song on Oliver’s Court</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page100">100</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Parliament Routed, or Here’s a House to be +Let</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page102">102</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Christmas Song, when the Rump was first dissolved</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page107">107</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Free Parliament Litany</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page110">110</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Mock Song</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page114">114</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Answer</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page116">116</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>As close as a Goose</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page118">118</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Prisoners</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page120">120</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Protecting Brewer</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page122">122</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Arraignment of the Devil for stealing away President +Bradshaw</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page124">124</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A New Ballad to an Old Tune, “Tom Of +Bedlam”</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page130">130</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><a name="pagexiii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xiii</span>Saint George and the Dragon, Anglice Mercurius +Poeticus</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page133">133</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Second Part of St George for England</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page143">143</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A New-year’s Gift for the Rump</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page147">147</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Proper New Ballad on the Old Parliament; or, the Second +Part of Knave Out of Doors</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page151">151</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Tale of the Cobbler and the Vicar of Bray</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page166">166</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Geneva Ballad</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page191">191</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Devil’s Progress on Earth, or Huggle Duggle, +etc.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page194">194</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Bottle Definition of that Fallen Angel, called a +Whig</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page196">196</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Desponding Whig</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page197">197</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Phanatick Zeal, or a Looking-glass for the Whigs</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page199">199</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A New Game at Cards: or, Win at First and Lose at Last</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page202">202</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Cavaleers Litany</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page205">205</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Cavalier’s Complaint</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page209">209</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>An Echo to the Cavalier’s Complaint</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page211">211</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Relation</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page213">213</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Glory of these Nations</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page217">217</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Noble Progress, or, a True Relation of the Lord +General Monk’s Political Proceedings</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page223">223</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>On the King’s Return</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page227">227</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Brave Barbary</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page228">228</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Catch</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page229">229</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Turn-coat</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page231">231</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Claret-drinker’s Song, or, the Good +Fellow’s Design</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page233">233</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Loyal Subjects’ Hearty Wishes to King Charles +II.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page236">236</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>King Charles the Second’s Restoration, 29th May</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page243">243</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Jubilee, or the Coronation Day</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page246">246</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The King enjoys his own again</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page247">247</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A Country Song, intituled the Restoration</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page248">248</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><a name="pagexiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xiv</span>Here’s a Health unto His Majesty</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page251">251</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Whigs drowned in an Honest Tory health</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page251">251</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Cavalier</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page253">253</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Lamentation of a Bad Market, or the Disbanded +Souldier</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page255">255</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Courtier’s Health; or, The Merry Boys of the +Times</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page260">260</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Loyal Tories’ Delight; or A Pill for +Fanaticks</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page262">262</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Royal Admiral</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page265">265</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Unfortunate Whigs</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page266">266</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Downfall of the Good Old Cause</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page268">268</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Old Jemmy</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page271">271</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Cloak’s Knavery</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page274">274</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Time-server, or a Medley</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page278">278</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Soldier’s Delight</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page280">280</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Loyal Soldier</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page281">281</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Polititian</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page283">283</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A New Droll</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page285">285</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Royalist</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page287">287</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Royalist’s Resolve</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page288">288</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Loyalty turned up Trump, or the Danger over</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page290">290</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Loyalist’s Encouragement</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page290">290</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Trouper</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page292">292</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>On the Times, or The Good Subject’s Wish</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page293">293</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Jovialists’ Coronation</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page294">294</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Loyal Prisoner</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page295">295</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Canary’s Coronation</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page297">297</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>The Mournful Subjects, or, The Whole Nation’s +Lamination, from the highest to the lowest</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page299">299</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Memento Mori</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page303">303</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Accession of James II.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page305">305</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>On the Most High and Mighty Monarch King James</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page307">307</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>In a Summer’s Day</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page309">309</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="pagexv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xv</span><span +class="GutSmall">LIST OF</span><br /> +BALLAD AND SONG BOOKS<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AND</span><br /> +MSS. QUOTED IN THIS COLLECTION.</h2> +<p>Ashmolean Collection.</p> +<p>Antidote to Melancholy, 1682.</p> +<p>Apollo’s Banquet, 1690.</p> +<p>Additional MSS.</p> +<p>Aviary, 1740–1745.</p> +<p>Broadsides, in the reign of Charles II.</p> +<p>„ „ „ <i>Roxburghe ballads</i>.</p> +<p>Butler’s, Samuel, Posthumous Works, 1732.</p> +<p>Burney’s, Dr, Collection of Songs.</p> +<p>Ballads, six, of the time of Charles II., in the British +Museum.</p> +<p>Bagford’s Collection [qu. date].</p> +<p>Brome’s, Alex., Songs [qu. date].</p> +<p>Banquet of Music, 1689.</p> +<p>Bull’s, Dr, Collection of Songs [qu. date].</p> +<p>* Collection of State Songs that have been published since the +Rebellion, and sung at the several Mug-houses in the Cities of +London and Westminster, 1716.</p> +<p>* Collection of Loyal Songs, 1750 [Jacobites].</p> +<p>Complete Collection of Old and New English and Scotch Songs, +1735.</p> +<p>Craig’s Collection, 1730.</p> +<p>Convivial Songster, 1782.</p> +<p>Crown Garlands of Golden Roses.</p> +<p>Carey’s, Henry, Musical Centus, 1740.</p> +<p><a name="pagexvi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xvi</span>* +D’Urfey’s Songs (4 volumes,) or Pills to Purge +Melancholy.</p> +<p>Douce’s Collection, Oxford.</p> +<p>Delightful Companion for the Recorder, 1686.</p> +<p>Dixon’s Ballads of the Peasants of England.</p> +<p>English Political Songs and Ballads of the 17th and 18th +Centuries, by Walker Wilkins.</p> +<p>Evans’ Old Ballads, 1810.</p> +<p>England under the House of Hanover, by Thos. Wright.</p> +<p>Folly in Print, or a Book of Rhymes, 1667.</p> +<p>Golden Garlands of Princely delights, 1620.</p> +<p>Harleian MSS.</p> +<p>Halifax’s Songs, 1694.</p> +<p>Halliwell’s Collection of Ballads, “Cheetham +Library.”</p> +<p>Hogg’s Jacobite Relics of Scotland.</p> +<p>Jordan’s, Thomas, London Triumphant, 1672.</p> +<p>King’s Library.</p> +<p>„ Pamphlets—Collection of Political Songs, from +1640 to the Restoration of Charles II.</p> +<p>Kitchener, Dr, Loyal and National Songs.</p> +<p>Loyal Songs, 120, 1684, by N. Thompson.</p> +<p>,, 180, 1685 to 1694.</p> +<p>Loyal Songs, 1731.</p> +<p>* Loyal Songs written against the Rump Parliament, between +1639 and 1661.</p> +<p>Loyal Garland, containing choice Songs, &c., of our late +Revolution, 1761, and 5th Edition, 1686, Percy Society.</p> +<p>Merry Drollery, complete, 1670.</p> +<p>Muses’ Merriment, 1656. <i>See</i> “Sportive +Wit.”</p> +<p>Musical MSS., British Museum.</p> +<p>Musical Miscellany, Watts.</p> +<p>Muse’s Delight, 1757, or “Apollo’s +Cabinet.”</p> +<p>Old Ballads, 1723, British Museum.</p> +<p>Playford’s Music and Mirth—“Douce’s +Collection.”</p> +<p>„ Choice Songs, &c.</p> +<p><a name="pagexvii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +xvii</span>Playford’s Theatre of Music, 1685.</p> +<p>,, Pleasant Music Companion.</p> +<p>,, Catch that Catch can.</p> +<p>„ Antidote against Melancholy, 1669.</p> +<p>Political Merriment.</p> +<p>* Pills to Purge Melancholy, 1661.</p> +<p>Parker’s, Martin, Ballads, Roxburghe Collection.</p> +<p>Political Ballads, Percy Society, Wright’s +Collection.</p> +<p>Pepys’ Collection, British Museum.</p> +<p>Rats rhymed to Death, 1660; King’s Pamphlets, British +Museum.</p> +<p>* Roxburghe Ballads, 3 vols.</p> +<p>Rump Collection of Songs, 1639 to 1661. <i>See</i> Loyal +Songs.</p> +<p>Ritson’s Ancient Songs, 1790.</p> +<p>,, English ,,</p> +<p>Ramsay, Allan, Tea-table Miscellany, 1724.</p> +<p>Rome rhymed to Death [qu. date].</p> +<p>Sportive Wit; the Muse’s Merriment [qu. date].</p> +<p>Skene MSS.</p> +<p>Suckling’s, Sir John, Works [qu. date].</p> +<p>Second Tale of a Tub, 1715.</p> +<p>Satirical Songs on Costume.</p> +<p>True Loyalist, or Chevalier’s Favourite, 1779.</p> +<p>Triumph of Wit, or Ingenuity Displayed.</p> +<p>Taubman’s, Mat., Heroic and Choice Songs on the Times, +1682.</p> +<p>Westminster Drollery, 1671.</p> +<p>* Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Purge Melancholy.</p> +<p>Wit restored, 1658.</p> +<p>Wit’s Recreation, 1654</p> +<p>Williams’, Sir Charles Hanbury, Political Songs.</p> +<p>Wood’s, Anthony, Collection at Oxford [Ashmolean].</p> +<p>Withers, George, Songs.</p> +<p>Wade’s, John, Ballads [qu. date].</p> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>CAVALIER +SONGS AND BALLADS.</h2> +<h3>WHEN THE KING ENJOYS HIS OWN AGAIN.</h3> +<p>This is perhaps the most popular of all the Cavalier +songs—a favour which it partly owes to the excellent melody +with which it is associated. The song, says Mr Chappell, is +ascertained to be by Martin Parker, by the following extract from +the <i>Gossips’ Feast</i>, or Moral Tales, 1647. +“By my faith, Martin Parker never got a fairer treat: no, +not when he indited that sweet ballad, When the King enjoys his +own again.” In the poet’s Blind Man’s +Bough (or Buff), 1641, Martin Parker says,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Whatever yet was published by me<br /> +Was known as Martin Parker, or M. P.;”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>but this song was printed without his name or initials, at a +time when it would have been dangerous to give either his own +name or that of his publisher. Ritson calls it the most +famous song of any time or country. Invented to support the +declining interest of Charles I., it served afterwards with more +success to keep up the spirits of the Cavaliers, and promote the +restoration of his son; an event which it was employed to +celebrate all over the kingdom. At the Revolution of 1688, +it of course became an adherent of the exiled King, whose cause +it never deserted. It did equal service in 1715 and +1745. The tune appears to have been originally known as +<i>Marry me</i>, <a name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +2</span><i>marry me</i>, <i>quoth he</i>, <i>bonnie +lass</i>. Booker, Pond, Hammond, Rivers, Swallow, Dade, and +“The Man in the Moon,” were all astrologers and +Almanac makers in the early days of the civil war. +“The Man in the Moon” appears to have been a loyalist +in his predictions. Hammond’s Almanac is called +“bloody” because the compiler always took care to +note the anniversary of the death, execution, or downfall of a +Royalist.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">What</span> <i>Booker</i> doth prognosticate<br /> + Concerning kings’ or kingdoms’ fate?<br +/> + I think myself to be as wise<br /> + As he that gazeth on the skies;<br /> +My skill goes beyond the depth of a <i>Pond</i>,<br /> + Or <i>Rivers</i> in the greatest rain,<br /> +Thereby I can tell all things will be well<br /> + When the King enjoys his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> There’s neither +<i>Swallow</i>, <i>Dove</i>, nor <i>Dade</i>,<br /> + Can soar more high, or deeper wade,<br /> + Nor show a reason from the stars<br /> + What causeth peace or civil wars;<br /> +The Man in the Moon may wear out his shoon<br /> + By running after Charles his wain:<br /> +But all’s to no end, for the times will not mend<br /> + Till the King enjoys his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Though for a time we see +Whitehall<br /> + With cobwebs hanging on the wall<br /> + Instead of silk and silver brave,<br /> + Which formerly it used to have,<br /> +With rich perfume in every room,—<br /> + Delightful to that princely train,<br /> +Which again you shall see, when the time it shall be,<br /> + That the King enjoys his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <a name="page3"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 3</span>Full forty years the royal crown<br /> + Hath been his father’s and his own;<br /> + And is there any one but he<br /> + That in the same should sharer be?<br /> +For who better may the sceptre sway<br /> + Than he that hath such right to reign?<br /> +Then let’s hope for a peace, for the wars will not cease<br +/> + Till the King enjoys his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> [Did <i>Walker</i> no +predictions lack<br /> + In Hammond’s bloody almanack?<br /> + Foretelling things that would ensue,<br /> + That all proves right, if lies be true;<br /> +But why should not he the pillory foresee,<br /> + Wherein poor Toby once was ta’en?<br /> +And also foreknow to the gallows he must go<br /> + When the King enjoys his own again?] <a +name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1" +class="citation">[1]</a></p> +<p class="poetry"> Till then upon Ararat’s +hill<br /> + My hope shall cast her anchor still,<br /> + Until I see some peaceful dove<br /> + Bring home the branch I dearly love;<br /> +Then will I wait till the waters abate<br /> + Which now disturb my troubled brain,<br /> +Else never rejoice till I hear the voice<br /> + That the King enjoys his own again.</p> +<h3><a name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 4</span>WHEN THE +KING COMES HOME IN PEACE AGAIN.</h3> +<p>From a broadside in the Roxburghe Collection of Ballads. +It appears to have been written shortly after Martin +Parker’s original ballad obtained popularity among the +Royalists, and to be by another hand. It bears neither date +nor printer’s name; and has “God save the King, +Amen,” in large letters at the end.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Oxford</span> and Cambridge shall agree,<br /> + With honour crown’d, and dignity;<br /> + For learned men shall then take place,<br /> + And bad be silenced with disgrace:<br /> +They’ll know it to be but a casualty<br /> + That hath so long disturb’d their brain;<br /> +For I can surely tell that all things will go well<br /> + When the King comes home in peace again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Church government shall +settled be,<br /> + And then I hope we shall agree<br /> + Without their help, whose high-brain’d zeal<br +/> + Hath long disturb’d the common weal;<br /> +Greed out of date, and cobblers that do prate<br /> + Of wars that still disturb their brain;<br /> +The which you will see, when the time it shall be<br /> + That the King comes home in peace again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Though many now are much in +debt,<br /> + And many shops are to be let,<br /> + A golden time is drawing near,<br /> + Men shops shall take to hold their ware;<br /> +And then all our trade shall flourishing be made,<br /> + To which ere long we shall attain;<br /> +For still I can tell all things will be well<br /> + When the King comes home in peace again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <a name="page5"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 5</span>Maidens shall enjoy their mates,<br /> + And honest men their lost estates;<br /> + Women shall have what they do lack,<br /> + Their husbands, who are coming back.<br /> +When the wars have an end, then I and my friend<br /> + All subjects’ freedom shall obtain;<br /> +By which I can tell all things will be well<br /> + When we enjoy sweet peace again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Though people now walk in +great fear<br /> + Along the country everywhere,<br /> + Thieves shall then tremble at the law,<br /> + And justice shall keep them in awe:<br /> +The Frenchies shall flee with their treacherie,<br /> + And the foes of the King ashamed remain:<br /> +The which you shall see when the time it shall be<br /> + That the King comes home in peace again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> The Parliament must willing +be<br /> + That all the world may plainly see<br /> + How they do labour still for peace,<br /> + That now these bloody wars may cease;<br /> +For they will gladly spend their lives to defend<br /> + The King in all his right to reign:<br /> +So then I can tell all things will be well<br /> + When we enjoy sweet peace again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> When all these things to pass +shall come<br /> + Then farewell Musket, Pick, and Drum,<br /> + The Lamb shall with the Lion feed,<br /> + Which were a happy time indeed.<br /> +<a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 6</span>O let us +pray we may all see the day<br /> + That peace may govern in his name,<br /> +For then I can tell all things will be well<br /> + When the King comes home in peace again.</p> +<h3>I LOVE MY KING AND COUNTRY WELL.</h3> +<p>From Songs and other Poems by Alex. Brome, Gent. +Published London 1664; written 1645.</p> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">love</span> my King and +country well,<br /> + Religion and the laws;<br /> +Which I’m mad at the heart that e’er we did sell<br +/> + To buy the good old cause.<br /> + These unnatural +wars<br /> + And brotherly +jars<br /> + Are no delight or joy to me;<br /> + But it is my +desire<br /> + That the wars +should expire,<br /> + And the King and his realms +agree.</p> +<p class="poetry">I never yet did take up arms,<br /> + And yet I dare to dye;<br /> +But I’ll not be seduced by phanatical charms<br /> + Till I know a reason why.<br /> + Why the King and +the state<br /> + Should fall to +debate<br /> + I ne’er could yet a reason +see,<br /> + But I find many +one<br /> + Why the wars +should be done,<br /> + And the King and his realms +agree.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +7</span>I love the King and the Parliament,<br /> + But I love them both together:<br +/> +And when they by division asunder are rent,<br /> + I know ’tis good for +neither.<br /> + +Whichsoe’er of those<br /> + Be +victorious,<br /> + I’m sure for us no good +’twill be,<br /> + For our plagues +will increase<br /> + Unless we have +peace,<br /> + And the King and his realms +agree.</p> +<p class="poetry">The King without them can’t long +stand,<br /> + Nor they without the King;<br /> +’Tis they must advise, and ’tis he must command,<br +/> + For their power from his must +spring.<br /> + ’Tis a +comfortless sway<br /> + When none will +obey;<br /> + If the King han’t his right, +which way shall we?<br /> + They may vote +and make laws,<br /> + But no good they +will cause<br /> + Till the King and his realm +agree.</p> +<p class="poetry">A pure religion I would have,<br /> + Not mixt with human wit;<br /> +And I cannot endure that each ignorant knave<br /> + Should dare to meddle with it.<br +/> + The tricks of +the law<br /> + I would fain +withdraw,<br /> + That it may be alike to each +degree:<br /> + And I fain would +have such<br /> + As do meddle so +much,<br /> + With the King and the church +agree.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +8</span>We have pray’d and pray’d that the wars might +cease,<br /> + And we be free men made;<br /> +I would fight, if my fighting would bring any peace,<br /> + But war is become a trade.<br /> + Our servants did +ride<br /> + With swords by +their side,<br /> + And made their masters footmen +be;<br /> + But we’ll +be no more slaves<br /> + To the beggars +and knaves<br /> + Now the King and the realms do +agree.</p> +<h3>THE COMMONERS.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">Written in 1645 to the Club-men, by +Alex. Brome.</p> +<p +class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Come</span> your ways,<br /> + Bonny boys<br /> + + +Of the town,<br /> + For now is your time or never:<br +/> + Shall your +fears<br /> + Or your cares<br +/> + + +Cast you down?<br /> + Hang your +wealth<br /> + And your +health,<br /> + + +Get renown.<br /> + We are all undone for ever,<br /> + Now the King and the crown<br /> + Are tumbling down,<br /> +<a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 9</span>And the +realm doth groan with disasters;<br /> + And the scum of the land<br /> + Are the men that command,<br /> +And our slaves are become our masters.</p> +<p +class="poetry"> Now +our lives,<br /> + Children, +wives,<br /> + + +And estate,<br /> + Are a prey to the lust and +plunder,<br /> + To the rage<br +/> + Of our age;<br +/> + + +And the fate<br /> + Of our land<br +/> + Is at hand;<br +/> + + +’Tis too late<br /> + To tread these usurpers under.<br +/> + First down goes the crown,<br /> + Then follows the gown,<br /> +Thus levell’d are we by the Roundhead;<br /> + While Church and State must<br /> + Feed their pride and their +lust,<br /> +And the kingdom and king be confounded.</p> +<p +class="poetry"> Shall +we still<br /> + Suffer ill<br /> + + +And be dumb,<br /> + And let every varlet undo us?<br +/> + Shall we +doubt<br /> + Of each lout<br +/> + + +That doth come,<br /> + With a voice<br +/> + Like the +noise<br /> + + +Of a drum,<br /> + And a sword or a buff-coat, to +us?<br /> + <a name="page10"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 10</span>Shall we lose our estates<br /> + By plunder and rates,<br /> +To bedeck those proud upstarts that swagger?<br /> + Rather fight for your meat<br /> + Which those locusts do eat,<br /> +Now every man’s a beggar.</p> +<h3>THE ROYALIST.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By Alex. Brome. Written +1646.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span> pass about the +bowl to me,<br /> + A health to our distressed King;<br /> +Though we’re in hold let cups go free,<br /> + Birds in a cage may freely sing.<br /> +The ground does tipple healths afar<br /> + When storms do fall, and shall not we?<br /> +A sorrow dares not show its face<br /> + When we are ships, and sack’s the sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">Pox on this grief, hang wealth, let’s +sing;<br /> + Shall’s kill ourselves for fear of death?<br +/> +We’ll live by th’ air which songs do bring,<br /> + Our sighing does but waste our breath.<br /> +Then let us not be discontent,<br /> + Nor drink a glass the less of wine;<br /> +In vain they’ll think their plagues are spent<br /> + When once they see we don’t repine.</p> +<p class="poetry">We do not suffer here alone,<br /> + Though we are beggar’d, so’s the +King;<br /> +’Tis sin t’ have wealth when he has none,<br /> + Tush! poverty’s a royal thing!<br /> +<a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>When we +are larded well with drink,<br /> + Our head shall turn as round as theirs,<br /> +Our feet shall rise, our bodies sink<br /> + Clean down the wind like Cavaliers.</p> +<p class="poetry">Fill this unnatural quart with sack,<br /> + Nature all vacuums doth decline;<br /> +Ourselves will be a zodiac,<br /> + And every mouth shall be a sign.<br /> +Methinks the travels of the glass<br /> + Are circular, like Plato’s year;<br /> +Where everything is as it was<br /> + Let’s tipple round: and so ’tis +here.</p> +<h3>THE NEW COURTIER.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By Alex. Brome. 1648.</p> +<p +class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Since</span> it must be so<br /> + + +Then so let it go,<br /> +Let the giddy-brain’d times turn round;<br /> +Since we have no king let the goblet be crown’d,<br /> + Our monarchy thus will recover:<br /> + While the pottles are weeping<br +/> + + +We’ll drench our sad souls<br /> + + +In big-bellied bowls;<br /> + Our sorrows in sack shall lie +steeping,<br /> + And we’ll drink till our eyes do run over;<br +/> + + +And prove it by reason<br /> + + +That it can be no treason<br /> +To drink and to sing<br /> +A mournival of healths to our new-crown’d King.</p> +<p +class="poetry"> <a +name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 12</span>Let us all +stand bare;—<br /> + + +In the presence we are,<br /> +Let our noses like bonfires shine;<br /> +Instead of the conduits, let the pottles run wine,<br /> + To perfect this new coronation;<br /> + And we that are loyal<br /> + + +In drink shall be peers,<br /> + + +While that face that wears<br /> + Pure claret, looks like the +blood-royal,<br /> + And outstares the bones of the nation:<br /> + + +In sign of obedience,<br /> + + +Our oath of allegiance<br /> +Beer-glasses shall be,<br /> +And he that tipples ten is of the nobility.</p> +<p +class="poetry"> But +if in this reign<br /> + + +The halberted train<br /> +Or the constable should rebel,<br /> +And should make their turbill’d militia to swell,<br /> + And against the King’s party raise arms;<br /> + Then the drawers, like yeomen<br +/> + + +Of the guards, with quart pots<br /> + + +Shall fuddle the sots,<br /> + While we make ’em both +cuckolds and freemen;<br /> + And on their wives beat up alarums.<br /> + + +Thus as each health passes<br /> + + +We’ll triple the glasses,<br /> +And hold it no sin<br /> +To be loyal and drink in defence of our King.</p> +<h3><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 13</span>UPON +THE CAVALIERS DEPARTING OUT OF LONDON.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By Alex. Brome.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Now</span> fare thee well, +London,<br /> +Thou next must be undone,<br /> + ’Cause thou hast undone us before;<br /> +This cause and this tyrant<br /> +Had never play’d this high rant<br /> + Were’t not for thy <i>argent +d’or</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now we must desert thee,<br /> +With the lines that begirt thee,<br /> + And the red-coated saints domineer;<br /> +Who with liberty fool thee,<br /> +While a monster doth rule thee,<br /> + And thou feel’st what before thou didst +fear.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now justice and freedom,<br /> +With the laws that did breed ’em,<br /> + Are sent to Jamaica for gold,<br /> +And those that upheld ’em<br /> +Have power but seldom,<br /> + For justice is barter’d and sold.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now the Christian religion<br /> +Must seek a new region,<br /> + And the old saints give way to the new;<br /> +And we that are loyal<br /> +Vail to those that destroy all,<br /> + When the Christian gives place to the Jew.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +14</span>But this is our glory,<br /> +In this wretched story<br /> + Calamities fall on the best;<br /> +And those that destroy us<br /> +Do better employ us,<br /> + To sing till they are supprest.</p> +<h3>A MAD WORLD, MY MASTERS.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the King’s pamphlets, +British Museum.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">We</span> have a King, and +yet no King,<br /> + For he hath lost his power;<br /> +For ’gainst his will his subjects are<br /> + Imprison’d in the Tower.</p> +<p class="poetry">We had some laws (but now no laws)<br /> + By which he held his crown;<br /> +And we had estates and liberties,<br /> + But now they’re voted down.</p> +<p class="poetry">We had religion, but of late<br /> + That’s beaten down with clubs;<br /> +Whilst that profaneness authorized<br /> + Is belched forth in tubs.</p> +<p class="poetry">We were free subjects born, but now<br /> + We are by force made slaves,<br /> +By some whom we did count our friends,<br /> + But in the end proved knaves.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +15</span>And now to such a grievous height<br /> + Are our misfortunes grown,<br /> +That our estates are took away<br /> + By tricks before ne’er known.</p> +<p class="poetry">For there are agents sent abroad<br /> + Most humbly for to crave<br /> +Our alms; but if they are denied,<br /> + And of us nothing have,</p> +<p class="poetry">Then by a vote <i>ex tempore</i><br /> + We are to prison sent,<br /> +Mark’d with the name of enemy,<br /> + To King and Parliament:</p> +<p class="poetry">And during our imprisonment,<br /> + Their lawless bulls do plunder<br /> +A license to their soldiers,<br /> + Our houses for to plunder.</p> +<p class="poetry">And if their hounds do chance to smell<br /> + A man whose fortunes are<br /> +Of some account, whose purse is full,<br /> + Which now is somewhat rare;</p> +<p class="poetry">A <i>monster</i> now, <i>delinquent</i> +term’d,<br /> + He is declared to be,<br /> +And that his lands, as well as goods,<br /> + Sequester’d ought to be.</p> +<p class="poetry">As if our prisons were too good,<br /> + He is to Yarmouth sent,<br /> +By virtue of a warrant from<br /> + The King and Parliament.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +16</span>Thus in our royal sovereign’s name,<br /> + And eke his power infused,<br /> +And by the virtue of the same,<br /> + He and all his abused.</p> +<p class="poetry">For by this means his castles now<br /> + Are in the power of those<br /> +Who treach’rously, with might and main,<br /> + Do strive him to depose.</p> +<p class="poetry">Arise, therefore, brave British men,<br /> + Fight for your King and State,<br /> +Against those trait’rous men that strive<br /> + This realm to ruinate.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis Pym, ’tis Pym and his +colleagues,<br /> + That did our woe engender;<br /> +Nought but their lives can end our woes,<br /> + And us in safety render.</p> +<h3>THE MAN O’ THE MOON.</h3> +<p>Hogg, in his second series of Jacobite Relics, states that he +“got this song among some old papers belonging to Mr Orr of +Alloa,” and that he never met with it elsewhere. In +his first series he printed a Scottish song beginning,—</p> +<p class="poetry">“Then was a man came fron the moon<br /> + And landed in our town, sir,<br /> +And he has sworn a solemn oath<br /> + That all but knaves must down, sir.”</p> +<p>In Martin Parker’s foregoing ballad, “When the +King enjoys his own again,” there is also an allusion to +the man in the moon:—</p> +<p class="poetry"> <a name="page17"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 17</span>“The Man in the Moon<br /> + May wear out his shoon<br /> +By running after Charles his wain;”</p> +<p>as it would appear that the “Man in the Moon,” was +the title assumed by an almanack-maker of the time of the +Commonwealth, who, like other astronomers and astrologers, +predicted the King’s restoration. In this song the +“Man o’ the Moon” clearly signifies King +Charles.</p> +<p class="poetry">The man o’ the moon for ever!<br /> +The man o’ the moon for ever!<br /> + We’ll drink to him still<br /> + In a merry cup of ale,—<br /> +Here’s the man o’ the moon for ever!</p> +<p class="poetry">The man o’ the moon, here’s to +him!<br /> +How few there be that know him!<br /> + But we’ll drink to him still<br /> + In a merry cup of ale,—<br /> +The man o’ the moon, here’s to him!</p> +<p class="poetry">Brave man o’ the moon, we hail thee,<br +/> +The true heart ne’er shall fail thee;<br /> + For the day that’s gone<br /> + And the day that’s our own—<br /> +Brave man o’ the moon, we hail thee.</p> +<p class="poetry">We have seen the bear bestride thee,<br /> +And the clouds of winter hide thee,<br /> + But the moon is changed<br /> + And here we are ranged,—<br /> +Brave man o’ the moon, we bide thee.</p> +<p class="poetry">The man o’ the moon for ever!<br /> +The man o’ the moon for ever!<br /> + <a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +18</span>We’ll drink to him still<br /> + In a merry cup of ale,—<br /> +Here’s the man o’ the moon for ever!</p> +<p class="poetry">We have grieved the land should shun thee,<br +/> +And have never ceased to mourn thee,<br /> + But for all our grief<br /> + There was no relief,—<br /> +Now, man o’ the moon, return thee.</p> +<p class="poetry">There’s Orion with his golden belt,<br /> +And Mars, that burning mover,<br /> + But of all the lights<br /> + That rule the nights,<br /> +The man o’ the moon for ever!</p> +<h3>THE TUB-PREACHER.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By Samuel Butler (Author of +Hudibras).<br /> +To the tune of “The Old Courtier of the +Queen’s.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">With</span> face and +fashion to be known,<br /> +With eyes all white, and many a groan,<br /> +With neck awry and snivelling tone,<br /> +And handkerchief from nose new-blown,<br /> +And loving cant to sister Joan;<br /> + ’Tis a new teacher about the town,<br /> + Oh! the town’s new teacher!</p> +<p class="poetry">With cozening laugh, and hollow cheek,<br /> +To get new gatherings every week,<br /> +With paltry sense as man can speak,<br /> +<a name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 19</span>With some +small Hebrew, and no Greek,<br /> +With hums and haws when stuff’s to seek;<br /> + ’Tis a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With hair cut shorter than the brow,<br /> +With little band, as you know how,<br /> +With cloak like Paul, no coat I trow,<br /> +With surplice none, nor girdle now,<br /> +With hands to thump, nor knees to bow;<br /> + ’Tis a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With shop-board breeding and intrusion,<br /> +By some outlandish institution,<br /> +With Calvin’s method and conclusion,<br /> +To bring all things into confusion,<br /> +And far-stretched sighs for mere illusion;<br /> + ’Tis a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With threats of absolute damnation,<br /> +But certainty of some salvation<br /> +To his new sect, not every nation,<br /> +With election and reprobation,<br /> +And with some use of consolation;<br /> + ’Tis a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With troops expecting him at door<br /> +To hear a sermon and no more,<br /> +And women follow him good store,<br /> +And with great Bibles to turn o’er,<br /> +Whilst Tom writes notes, as bar-boys score,<br /> + ’Tis a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +20</span>With double cap to put his head in,<br /> +That looks like a black pot tipp’d with tin;<br /> +While with antic gestures he doth gape and grin;<br /> +The sisters admire, and he wheedles them in,<br /> +Who to cheat their husbands think no sin;<br /> + ’Tis a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With great pretended spiritual motions,<br /> +And many fine whimsical notions,<br /> +With blind zeal and large devotions,<br /> +With broaching rebellion and raising commotions,<br /> +And poisoning the people with Geneva potions;<br /> + ’Tis a new teacher, etc.</p> +<h3>THE NEW LITANY.</h3> +<p>From the King’s pamphlets, British Museum. Satires +in the form of a litany were common from 1646 to 1746, and even +later.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">From</span> an extempore +prayer and a godly ditty,<br /> +From the churlish government of a city,<br /> +From the power of a country committee,<br /> + + +Libera nos, Domine.</p> +<p class="poetry">From the Turk, the Pope, and the Scottish +nation,<br /> +From being govern’d by proclamation,<br /> +And from an old Protestant, quite out of fashion,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +21</span>From meddling with those that are out of our reaches,<br +/> +From a fighting priest, and a soldier that preaches,<br /> +From an ignoramus that writes, and a woman that teaches,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From the doctrine of deposing of a king,<br /> +From the <i>Directory</i>, <a name="citation2"></a><a +href="#footnote2" class="citation">[2]</a> or any such thing,<br +/> +From a fine new marriage without a ring,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From a city that yields at the first +summons,<br /> +From plundering goods, either man or woman’s,<br /> +Or having to do with the House of Commons,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From a stumbling horse that tumbles o’er +and o’er,<br /> +From ushering a lady, or walking before,<br /> +From an English-Irish rebel, newly come o’er, <a +name="citation3"></a><a href="#footnote3" +class="citation">[3]</a><br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From compounding, or hanging in a silken +altar,<br /> +From oaths and covenants, and being pounded in a mortar,<br /> +From contributions, or free-quarter,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +22</span>From mouldy bread, and musty beer,<br /> +From a holiday’s fast, and a Friday’s cheer,<br /> +From a brother-hood, and a she-cavalier,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From Nick Neuter, for you, and for you,<br /> +From Thomas Turn-coat, that will never prove true,<br /> +From a reverend Rabbi that’s worse than a Jew,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From a country justice that still looks big,<br +/> +From swallowing up the Italian fig,<br /> +Or learning of the Scottish jig,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From being taken in a disguise,<br /> +From believing of the printed lies,<br /> +From the Devil and from the Excise, <a name="citation4"></a><a +href="#footnote4" class="citation">[4]</a><br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From a broken pate with a pint pot,<br /> +For fighting for I know not what,<br /> +And from a friend as false as a Scot,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From one that speaks no sense, yet talks all +that he can,<br /> +From an old woman and a Parliament man,<br /> +From an Anabaptist and a Presbyter man,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +23</span>From Irish rebels and Welsh hubbub-men,<br /> +From Independents and their tub-men,<br /> +From sheriffs’ bailiffs, and their club-men,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From one that cares not what he saith,<br /> +From trusting one that never payeth,<br /> +From a private preacher and a public faith,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From a vapouring horse and a Roundhead in +buff,<br /> +From roaring Jack Cavee, with money little enough,<br /> +From beads and such idolatrous stuff,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From holydays, and all that’s holy,<br /> +From May-poles and fiddlers, and all that’s jolly<br /> +From Latin or learning, since that is folly,<br /> + + +Libera, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">And now to make an end of all,<br /> +I wish the Roundheads had a fall,<br /> +Or else were hanged in Goldsmith’s Hall.<br /> + + +Amen.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Benedicat Dominus.</p> +<h3>THE OLD PROTESTANT’S LITANY.</h3> +<p class="poetry">Against all sectaries<br /> + And their defendants,<br /> +Both Presbyterians<br /> + And Independents.</p> +<p>Mr Walter Wilkins, in his Political Ballads of the Seventeenth +and Eighteenth Centuries, says, the imprint of this broadside <a +name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 24</span>intimates +that it was published in “the year of Hope, 1647,” +and Thomson, the collector, added the precise date, the 7th of +September.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">That</span> thou wilt be +pleased to grant our requests,<br /> +And quite destroy all the vipers’ nests,<br /> +That England and her true religion molests,<br /> + + +Te rogamus audi nos.</p> +<p class="poetry">That thou wilt be pleased to censure with +pity<br /> +The present estate of our once famous city;<br /> +Let her still be govern’d by men just and witty,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That thou wilt be pleased to consider the +Tower,<br /> +And all other prisons in the Parliament’s power,<br /> +Where King Charles his friends find their welcome but sour,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That thou wilt be pleased to look on the +grief<br /> +Of the King’s old servants, and send them relief,<br /> +Restore to the yeomen o’ th’ Guard chines of beef,<br +/> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That thou wilt be pleased very quickly to +bring<br /> +Unto his just rights our so much-wrong’d King,<br /> +That he may be happy in everything,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That Whitehall may shine in its pristine +lustre,<br /> +That the Parliament may make a general muster,<br /> +That knaves may be punish’d by men who are juster,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +25</span>That now the dog-days are fully expired,<br /> +That those cursed curs, which our patience have tired,<br /> +May suffer what is by true justice required,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That thou wilt be pleased to incline conquering +Thomas<br /> +(Who now hath both city and Tower gotten from us),<br /> +That he may be just in performing his promise,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That our hopeful Prince and our gracious +Queen<br /> +(Whom we here in England long time have not seen)<br /> +May soon be restored to what they have been,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That the rest of the royal issue may be<br /> +From their Parliamentary guardians set free,<br /> +And be kept according to their high degree,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That our ancient Liturgy may be restored,<br /> +That the organs (by sectaries so much abhorr’d)<br /> +May sound divine praises, according to the word,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That the ring in marriage, the cross at the +font,<br /> +Which the devil and the Roundheads so much affront,<br /> +May be used again, as before they were wont,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +26</span>That Episcopacy, used in its right kind,<br /> +In England once more entertainment may find,<br /> +That Scots and lewd factions may go down the wind,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That thou wilt be pleased again to restore<br +/> +All things in due order, as they were before,<br /> +That the Church and the State may be vex’d no more,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That all the King’s friends may enjoy +their estates,<br /> +And not be kept, as they have been, at low rates,<br /> +That the poor may find comfort again at their gates,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That thou wilt all our oppressions remove,<br +/> +And grant us firm faith and hope, join’d with true love,<br +/> +Convert or confound all which virtue reprove,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That all peevish sects that would live +uncontroll’d,<br /> +And will not be govern’d, as all subjects should,<br /> +To New England may pack, or live quiet i’ th’ Old,<br +/> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That gracious King Charles, with his children +and wife,<br /> +Who long time have suffer’d through this civil strife,<br +/> +May end with high honour their natural life,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +27</span>That they who have seized on honest men’s +treasure,<br /> +Only for their loyalty to God and to Cæsar,<br /> +May in time convenient find measure for measure,<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That thou all these blessings upon us wilt +send,<br /> +We are no <i>Independents</i>, on Thee we depend,<br /> +And as we believe, from all harm us defend;<br /> + + +Te rogamus, etc.</p> +<h3>VIVE LE ROY.</h3> +<p>From a collection of songs, 1640 to 1660. It is also to +be found in the additional MSS., No. 11, 608, p. 54, in the +collection in the British Museum. It was sung to the air of +Love lies bleeding,—and was, says Mr Chappell, “the +God save the King” of Charles I., Charles II., and James +II.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">What</span> though the +zealots pull down the prelates,<br /> +Push at the pulpit, and kick at the crown,<br /> +Shall we not never once more endeavour,<br /> +Strive to purchase our royall renown?<br /> +Shall not the Roundhead first be confounded?<br /> +Sa, sa, sa, say, boys, ha, ha, ha, ha, boys,<br /> +Then we’ll return with triumph and joy.<br /> +Then we’ll be merry, drink white wine and sherry,<br /> +Then we will sing, boys, God bless the King, boys,<br /> +Cast up our caps, and cry, <i>Vive le Roy</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">What though the wise make Alderman Isaac<br /> +Put us in prison and steal our estates,<br /> +Though we be forced to be unhorsed,<br /> +And walk on foot as it pleaseth the fates;<br /> +<a name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 28</span>In the +King’s army no man shall harm ye.<br /> +Then come along, boys, valiant and strong, boys,<br /> +Fight for your goods, which the Roundheads enjoy;<br /> +And when you venture London to enter,<br /> +And when you come, boys, with fife and drum, boys,<br /> +Isaac himself shall cry, <i>Vive le Roy</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">If you will choose them, do not refuse them,<br +/> +Since honest Parliament never made thieves,<br /> +Charles will not further have rogues dipt in murder,<br /> +Neither by leases, long lives, nor reprieves.<br /> +’Tis the conditions and propositions<br /> +Will not be granted, then be not daunted,<br /> +We will our honest old customs enjoy;<br /> +Paul’s not rejected, will be respected,<br /> +And in the quier voices rise higher,<br /> +Thanks to the heavens, and (cry), <i>Vive le Roy</i>.</p> +<h3>THE CAVALIER.</h3> +<p>By Samuel Butler. From his Posthumous Works. A +somewhat different version appears in Chappell’s Popular +Music of the Olden Time.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">He</span> that is a +clear<br /> + + +Cavalier<br /> +Will not repine,<br /> + + +Although<br /> +His pocket grow<br /> + + +So very low<br /> +He cannot get wine.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +29</span>Fortune is a lass<br /> + + +Will embrace,<br /> +But soon destroy;<br /> + + +Born free,<br /> +In liberty<br /> + + +We’ll always be,<br /> +Singing <i>Vive le Roy</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Virtue is its own reward,<br /> + And Fortune is a whore;<br /> +There’s none but knaves and fools regard her,<br /> + Or her power implore.<br /> +But he that is a trusty <i>Roger</i>,<br /> + And will serve the King;<br /> +Altho’ he be a tatter’d soldier,<br /> + Yet may skip and sing:<br /> +Whilst we that fight for love,<br /> +May in the way of honour prove<br /> +That they who make sport of us<br /> +May come short of us;<br /> +Fate will flatter them,<br /> +And will scatter them;<br /> +Whilst our loyalty<br /> +Looks upon royalty,<br /> +We that live peacefully,<br /> +May be successfully<br /> +Crown’d with a crown at last.</p> +<p class="poetry">Tho’ a real honest man<br /> +May be quite undone,<br /> +He’ll show his allegiance,<br /> +Love, and obedience;<br /> +Those will raise him up,<br /> +Honour stays him up,<br /> +<a name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>Virtue +keeps him up,<br /> +And we praise him up.<br /> +Whilst the vain courtiers dine,<br /> +With their bottles full of wine,<br /> +Honour will make him fast.<br /> +Freely then<br /> +Let’s be honest men<br /> + And kick at fate,<br /> +For we may live to see<br /> +Our loyalty<br /> + Valued at a higher rate.<br /> +He that bears a sword<br /> + Or a word against the throne,<br /> +And does profanely prate<br /> +To abuse the state,<br /> + Hath no kindness for his own.</p> +<p class="poetry">What tho’ painted plumes and prayers<br +/> + Are the prosp’rous men,<br /> +Yet we’ll attend our own affairs<br /> + ’Till they come to ’t agen;<br /> +Treachery may be faced with light,<br /> + And letchery lined with furr;<br /> +A cuckold may be made a knight,<br /> + Sing <i>Fortune de la Guerre</i>.<br /> +But what’s that to us, brave boys,<br /> +That are right honest men?<br /> +We’ll conquer and come again,<br /> +Beat up the drum again;<br /> + Hey for <i>Cavaliers</i>,<br /> + Hoe for <i>Cavaliers</i>,<br /> + Drink for <i>Cavaliers</i>,<br /> + Fight for <i>Cavaliers</i>,<br /> + <a name="page31"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 31</span>Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub,<br /> + Have at Old <i>Beelzebub</i>,<br +/> + <i>Oliver</i> stinks for fear.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Fifth Monarchy-men</i> must down, boys,<br +/> +With bulleys of every sect in town, boys;<br /> +We’ll rally and to ’t again,<br /> +Give ’em the rout again;<br /> +Fly like light about,<br /> +Face to the right-about,<br /> +Charge them home again<br /> +When they come on again;<br /> +<i>Sing Tantara rara</i>, <i>boys</i>,<br /> +<i>Tantara rara</i>, <i>boys</i>,<br /> +This is the life of an Old Cavalier.</p> +<h3>A CAVEAT TO THE ROUNDHEADS.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Posthumous Works of Samuel +Butler.</p> +<p class="poetry"> I <span +class="smcap">come</span> to charge ye<br /> + That fight the clergy,<br /> +And pull the mitre from the prelate’s head,<br /> + That you will be wary<br /> + Lest you miscarry<br /> +In all those factious humours you have bred;<br /> +But as for <i>Brownists</i> we’ll have none,<br /> +But take them all and hang them one by one.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Your wicked +actions<br /> + Join’d in factions<br /> +Are all but aims to rob the King of his due;<br /> + <a name="page32"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 32</span>Then give this reason<br /> + For your treason,<br /> +That you’ll be ruled, if he’ll be ruled by you.<br /> +Then leave these factions, zealous brother,<br /> +Lest you be hanged one against another.</p> +<h3>HEY, THEN, UP GO WE.</h3> +<p>This song, says Mr Chappell, in his Popular Music of the Olden +Time, which describes with some humour the taste of the Puritans, +might pass for a Puritan song, if it were not contained in the +“Shepherds’ Oracles,” by Francis Quarles, +1646. He was cup-bearer to Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, +daughter of James I., and afterwards chronologer to the city of +London. He died in 1644, and his Shepherds’ Oracles +were a posthumous publication. It was often reprinted +during the Restoration, and reproduced and slightly altered by +Thomas Durfey, in his “Pills to Purge Melancholy,” +where the burthen is, “Hey, boys, up go we.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Know</span> this, my +brethren, heaven is clear,<br /> + And all the clouds are gone;<br /> +The righteous man shall flourish now,<br /> + Good days are coming on.<br /> +Then come, my brethren, and be glad,<br /> + And eke rejoyce with me;<br /> +Lawn sleeves and rochets shall go down,<br /> + And hey, then, up go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">We’ll break the windows which the +whore<br /> + Of Babylon hath painted,<br /> +And when the popish saints are down<br /> + Then Barrow shall be sainted;<br /> +<a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +33</span>There’s neither cross nor crucifix<br /> + Shall stand for men to see,<br /> +Rome’s trash and trumpery shall go down,<br /> + And hey, then, up go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">Whate’er the Popish hands have built<br +/> + Our hammers shall undo;<br /> +We’ll break their pipes and burn their copes,<br /> + And pull down churches too;<br /> +We’ll exercise within the groves,<br /> + And teach beneath a tree;<br /> +We’ll make a pulpit of a cask,<br /> + And hey, then, up go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">We’ll put down Universities,<br /> + Where learning is profest,<br /> +Because they practise and maintain<br /> + The language of the Beast;<br /> +We’ll drive the doctors out of doors,<br /> + And all that learned be;<br /> +We’ll cry all arts and learning down,<br /> + And hey, then, up go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">We’ll down with deans and prebends, +too,<br /> + And I rejoyce to tell ye<br /> +We then shall get our fill of pig,<br /> + And capons for the belly.<br /> +We’ll burn the Fathers’ weighty tomes,<br /> + And make the School-men flee;<br /> +We’ll down with all that smells of wit,<br /> + And hey, then, up go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">If once the Antichristian crew<br /> + Be crush’d and overthrown,<br /> +<a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +34</span>We’ll teach the nobles how to stoop,<br /> + And keep the gentry down:<br /> +Good manners have an ill report,<br /> + And turn to pride, we see,<br /> +We’ll therefore put good manners down,<br /> + And hey, then, up go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">The name of lords shall be abhorr’d,<br +/> + For every man’s a brother;<br /> +No reason why in Church and State<br /> + One man should rule another;<br /> +But when the change of government<br /> + Shall set our fingers free,<br /> +We’ll make these wanton sisters stoop,<br /> + And hey, then, up go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">What though the King and Parliament<br /> + Do not accord together,<br /> +We have more cause to be content,<br /> + This is our sunshine weather:<br /> +For if that reason should take place,<br /> + And they should once agree,<br /> +Who would be in a Roundhead’s case,<br /> + For hey, then, up go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">What should we do, then, in this case?<br /> + Let’s put it to a venture;<br /> +If that we hold out seven years’ space<br /> + We’ll sue out our indenture.<br /> +A time may come to make us rue,<br /> + And time may set us free,<br /> +Except the gallows claim his due,<br /> + And hey, then, up go we.</p> +<h3><a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 35</span>THE +CLEAN CONTRARY WAY,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR,</span><br /> +COLONEL VENNE’S ENCOURAGEMENT TO HIS SOLDIERS.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">To the air of “Hey, then, up +go we.”<br /> +From a Collection of Loyal Songs written against the Rump +Parliament.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Fight</span> on, brave +soldiers, for the cause,<br /> + Fear not the Cavaliers;<br /> +Their threat’nings are as senseless as<br /> + Our jealousies and fears.<br /> +Tis you must perfect this great work,<br /> + And all malignants slay;<br /> +You must bring back the King again<br /> + The clean contrary way.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis for religion that you fight,<br /> + And for the kingdom’s good;<br /> +By robbing churches, plundering them,<br /> + And shedding guiltless blood.<br /> +Down with the orthodoxal train,<br /> + All loyal subjects slay;<br /> +When these are gone, we shall be blest<br /> + The clean contrary way.</p> +<p class="poetry">When <i>Charles</i> we have made bankrupt,<br +/> + Of power and crown bereft him,<br /> +And all his loyal subjects slain,<br /> + And none but rebels left him;<br /> +When we have beggar’d all the land,<br /> + And sent our trunks away,<br /> +We’ll make him then a glorious prince<br /> + The clean contrary way.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +36</span>’Tis to preserve his Majesty<br /> + That we against him fight,<br /> +Nor ever are we beaten back,<br /> + Because our cause is right:<br /> +If any make a scruple at<br /> + Our Declarations, say,—<br /> +Who fight for us, fight for the King<br /> + The clean contrary way.</p> +<p class="poetry">At <i>Keinton</i>, <i>Brainsford</i>, +<i>Plymouth</i>, <i>York</i>,<br /> + And divers places more,<br /> +What victories we saints obtain,<br /> + The like ne’er seen before:<br /> +How often we Prince <i>Rupert</i> kill’d,<br /> + And bravely won the day,<br /> +The wicked Cavaliers did run<br /> + The clean contrary way.</p> +<p class="poetry">The true religion we maintain,<br /> + The kingdom’s peace and plenty;<br /> +The privilege of Parliament<br /> + Not known to one and twenty;<br /> +The ancient fundamental laws,<br /> + And teach men to obey<br /> +Their lawful sovereign, and all these<br /> + The clean contrary way.</p> +<p class="poetry">We subjects’ liberties preserve<br /> + By imprisonment and plunder,<br /> +And do enrich ourselves and state<br /> + By keeping th’ wicked under.<br /> +We must preserve mechanicks now<br /> + To lectorize and pray;<br /> +By them the gospel is advanced<br /> + The clean contrary way.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +37</span>And though the King be much misled<br /> + By that malignant crew,<br /> +He’ll find us honest at the last,<br /> + Give all of us our due.<br /> +For we do wisely plot, and plot<br /> + Rebellion to alloy,<br /> +He sees we stand for peace and truth<br /> + The clean contrary way.</p> +<p class="poetry">The publick faith shall save our souls<br /> + And our good works together;<br /> +And ships shall save our lives, that stay<br /> + Only for wind and weather:<br /> +But when our faith and works fall down<br /> + And all our hopes decay,<br /> +Our acts will bear us up to heaven<br /> + The clean contrary way.</p> +<h3>THE CAMERONIAN CAT.</h3> +<p>A well-known song from Hogg’s Jacobite Relics; and +popular among the Cavaliers both of England and Scotland in the +days of the Commonwealth. It was usually sung to a psalm +tune; the singers imitating the style and manner of a precentor +at a Presbyterian church.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">There</span> was a +Cameronian cat<br /> + Was hunting for a prey,<br /> +And in the house she catch’d a mouse<br /> + Upon the Sabbath-day.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +38</span>The Whig, being offended<br /> + At such an act profane,<br /> +Laid by his book, the cat he took,<br /> + And bound her in a chain.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou damn’d, thou cursed creature,<br /> + This deed so dark with thee,<br /> +Think’st thou to bring to hell below<br /> + My holy wife and me?</p> +<p class="poetry">Assure thyself that for the deed<br /> + Thou blood for blood shalt pay,<br /> +For killing of the Lord’s own mouse<br /> + Upon the Sabbath-day.</p> +<p class="poetry">The presbyter laid by the book,<br /> + And earnestly he pray’d<br /> +That the great sin the cat had done<br /> + Might not on him be laid.</p> +<p class="poetry">And straight to execution<br /> + Poor pussy she was drawn,<br /> +And high hang’d up upon a tree—<br /> + The preacher sung a psalm.</p> +<p class="poetry">And when the work was ended,<br /> + They thought the cat near dead,<br /> +She gave a paw, and then a mew,<br /> + And stretched out her head.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thy name, said he, shall certainly<br /> + A beacon still remain,<br /> +A terror unto evil ones<br /> + For evermore, Amen.</p> +<h3><a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 39</span>THE +ROYAL FEAST.</h3> +<p>A Loyall Song of the Royall Feast kept by the Prisoners in the +Towre, August last, with the Names, Titles, and Characters of +every Prisoner. By Sir F. W., Knight and Baronet, +Prisoner. (Sept. 16th, 1647.)</p> +<p>“In the negotiations between the King and the Parliament +during the summer and autumn of this year,” says Mr Thomas +Wright in his Political Ballads of the Commonwealth, published +for the Percy Society, “the case of the royalist prisoners +in the Tower was frequently brought into question. The +latter seized the occasion of complaining against the rigours +(complaints apparently exaggerated) which were exerted against +them, and on the 16th June, 1647, was published ‘A True +Relation of the cruell and unparallel’d Oppression which +hath been illegally imposed upon the Gentlemen Prisoners in the +Tower of London.’ The several petitions contained in +this tract have the signatures of Francis Howard, Henry +Bedingfield, Walter Blount, Giles Strangwaies, Francis Butler, +Henry Vaughan, Thomas Lunsford, Richard Gibson, Tho. Violet, John +Morley, Francis Wortley, Edw. Bishop, John Hewet, Wingfield +Bodenham, Henry Warren, W. Morton, John Slaughter, Gilbert +Swinhow.”</p> +<p>On the 19th of August (according to the <span +class="smcap">Moderate Intelligencer</span> of that date) the +King sent to the royal prisoners in the Tower two fat bucks for a +feast. This circumstance was the origin of the present +ballad. It was written by Sir Francis Wortley, one of the +prisoners. This ballad, as we learn by the concluding +lines, was to be sung to the popular tune of “Chevy +Chace.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">God</span> save the best of +kings, King Charles!<br /> + The best of queens, Queen Mary!<br /> +The ladies all, Gloster and Yorke,<br /> + Prince Charles, so like old harry! <a +name="citation5"></a><a href="#footnote5" +class="citation">[5]</a></p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +40</span>God send the King his own again,<br /> + His towre and all his coyners!<br /> +And blesse all kings who are to reigne,<br /> + From traytors and purloyners!<br /> + The King sent us poor traytors here<br /> + (But you may guesse the reason)<br +/> + Two brace of bucks to mend the cheere,<br /> + Is’t not to eat them +treason?</p> +<p class="poetry">Let Selden search Cotton’s records,<br /> + And Rowley in the Towre,<br /> +They cannot match the president,<br /> + It is not in their power.<br /> +Old Collet would have joy’d to ’ve seen<br /> + This president recorded;<br /> +For all the papers he ere saw<br /> + Scarce such an one afforded.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">But that you may these traytors know,<br /> + I’ll be so bold to name them;<br /> +That if they ever traytors prove<br /> + Then this record may shame them:<br /> +But these are well-try’d loyal blades<br /> + (If England ere had any),<br /> +Search both the Houses through and through<br /> + You’ld scarcely finde so many.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The first and chiefe a marquesse <a +name="citation6"></a><a href="#footnote6" +class="citation">[6]</a> is,<br /> + Long with the State did wrestle;<br /> +<a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 41</span>Had Ogle +<a name="citation7"></a><a href="#footnote7" +class="citation">[7]</a> done as much as he,<br /> + Th’ad spoyl’d Will Waller’s +castle.<br /> +Ogle had wealth and title got,<br /> + So layd down his commissions;<br /> +The noble marquesse would not yield,<br /> + But scorn’d all base conditions.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The next a worthy bishop <a +name="citation8"></a><a href="#footnote8" +class="citation">[8]</a> is,<br /> + Of schismaticks was hated;<br /> +But I the cause could never know,<br /> + Nor see the reason stated.<br /> +The cryes were loud, God knowes the cause,<br /> + They had a strange committee,<br /> +Which was a-foot well neere a yeare,<br /> + Who would have had small pitty.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The next to him is a Welsh Judge, <a +name="citation9"></a><a href="#footnote9" +class="citation">[9]</a><br /> + Durst tell them what was treason;<br /> +<a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 42</span>Old honest +David durst be good<br /> + When it was out of season;<br /> +He durst discover all the tricks<br /> + The lawyers use, and knavery,<br /> +And show the subtile plots they use<br /> + To enthrall us into slavery.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Frank Wortley <a name="citation10"></a><a +href="#footnote10" class="citation">[10]</a> hath a jovial +soule,<br /> + Yet never was good club-man;<br /> +He’s for the bishops and the church,<br /> + But can endure no tub-man.<br /> +He told Sir Thomas in the Towre,<br /> + Though he by him was undone,<br /> +It pleased him that he lost more men<br /> + In taking him then London.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sir Edward Hayles <a name="citation11"></a><a +href="#footnote11" class="citation">[11]</a> was wond’rous +rich,<br /> + No flower in Kent yields honey<br /> +In more abundance to the bee<br /> + Then they from him suck money;<br /> +Yet hee’s as chearfull as the best—<br /> + Judge Jenkins sees no reason<br /> +That honest men for wealth should be<br /> + Accused of high treason.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +43</span>Old Sir George Strangways <a name="citation12"></a><a +href="#footnote12" class="citation">[12]</a> he came in,<br /> + Though he himself submitted,<br /> +Yet as a traytor he must be<br /> + Excepted and committed:<br /> +Yet they th’ exception now take off,<br /> + But not the sequestrations,<br /> +Hee must forsooth to Goldsmith’s-hall,<br /> + The place of desolation.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Honest Sir Berr’s a reall man,<br /> + As ere was lapt in leather;<br /> +But he (God blesse us) loves the King,<br /> + And therefore was sent hither.<br /> +He durst be sheriff, and durst make<br /> + The Parliament acquainted<br /> +What he intended for to doe,<br /> + And for this was attainted.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sir Benefield, <a name="citation13"></a><a +href="#footnote13" class="citation">[13]</a> Sir Walter Blunt,<br +/> + Are Romishly affected,<br /> +So’s honest Frank of Howard’s race,<br /> + And slaughter is suspected. <a +name="citation14"></a><a href="#footnote14" +class="citation">[14]</a><br /> +<a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 44</span>But how +the devill comes this about,<br /> + That Papists are so loyall,<br /> +And those that call themselves God’s saints<br /> + Like devils do destroy all?<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Jack Hewet <a name="citation15"></a><a +href="#footnote15" class="citation">[15]</a> will have wholesome +meat,<br /> + And drink good wine, if any;<br /> +His entertainment’s free and neat,<br /> + His choyce of friends not many;<br /> +Jack is a loyall-hearted man,<br /> + Well parted and a scholar;<br /> +He’ll grumble if things please him not,<br /> + But never grows to choller.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Gallant Sir Thomas, <a name="citation16"></a><a +href="#footnote16" class="citation">[16]</a> bold and stout<br /> + (Brave Lunsford), children eateth;<br /> +But he takes care, where he eats one,<br /> + There he a hundred getteth;<br /> +When Harlow’s wife brings her long bills,<br /> + He wishes she were blinded;<br /> +When shee speaks loud, as loud he swears<br /> + The woman’s earthly-minded.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +45</span>Sir Lewis <a name="citation17"></a><a href="#footnote17" +class="citation">[17]</a> hath an able pen,<br /> + Can cudgell a committee;<br /> +He makes them doe him reason, though<br /> + They others do not pitty.<br /> +Brave Cleaveland had a willing minde,<br /> + Frank Wortley was not able,<br /> +But Lewis got foure pound per weeke<br /> + For’s children and his table.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Giles Strangwayes <a name="citation18"></a><a +href="#footnote18" class="citation">[18]</a> has a gallant +soul,<br /> + A brain infatigable;<br /> +What study he ere undertakes<br /> + To master it hee’s able:<br /> +He studies on his theoremes,<br /> + And logarithmes for number;<br /> +He loves to speake of Lewis Dives, <a name="citation19"></a><a +href="#footnote19" class="citation">[19]</a><br /> + And they are ne’er asunder.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sir John Marlow’s <a +name="citation20"></a><a href="#footnote20" +class="citation">[20]</a> a loyall man<br /> + (If England ere bred any),<br /> +<a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 46</span>He +bang’d the pedlar back and side,<br /> + Of Scots he killed many.<br /> +Had General King <a name="citation21"></a><a href="#footnote21" +class="citation">[21]</a> done what he should,<br /> + And given the blew-caps battail,<br /> +Wee’d make them all run into Tweed<br /> + By droves, like sommer cattell.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Will Morton’s <a name="citation22"></a><a +href="#footnote22" class="citation">[22]</a> of that +Cardinal’s race,<br /> + Who made that blessed maryage;<br /> +He is most loyall to his King,<br /> + In action, word, and carryage;<br /> +His sword and pen defends the cause,<br /> + If King Charles thinke not on him,<br /> +Will is amongst the rest undone,—<br /> + The Lord have mercy on him!<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Tom Conisby <a name="citation23"></a><a +href="#footnote23" class="citation">[23]</a> is stout and +stern,<br /> + Yet of a sweet condition;<br /> +To them he loves his crime was great,<br /> + He read the King’s commission,<br /> +And required Cranborn to assist;<br /> + He charged, but should have pray’d him;<br /> +<a name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 47</span>Tom was so +bold he did require<br /> + All for the King should aid him.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">But I Win. Bodnam <a name="citation24"></a><a +href="#footnote24" class="citation">[24]</a> had forgot,<br /> + Had suffer’d so much hardship;<br /> +There’s no man in the Towre had left<br /> + The King so young a wardship;<br /> +He’s firme both to the church and crowne,<br /> + The crown law and the canon;<br /> +The Houses put him to his shifts,<br /> + And his wife’s father Mammon.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sir Henry Vaughan <a name="citation25"></a><a +href="#footnote25" class="citation">[25]</a> looks as grave<br /> + As any beard can make him;<br /> +Those come poore prisoners for to see<br /> + Doe for our patriarke take him.<br /> +Old Harry is a right true-blue,<br /> + As valiant as Pendraggon;<br /> +And would be loyall to his King,<br /> + Had King Charles ne’er a rag on.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">John Lilburne <a name="citation26"></a><a +href="#footnote26" class="citation">[26]</a> is a stirring +blade,<br /> + And understands the matter;<br /> +<a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 48</span>He neither +will king, bishops, lords,<br /> + Nor th’ House of Commons flatter:<br /> +John loves no power prerogative,<br /> + But that derived from Sion;<br /> +As for the mitre and the crown,<br /> + Those two he looks awry on.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Tom Violet <a name="citation27"></a><a +href="#footnote27" class="citation">[27]</a> swears his +injuries<br /> + Are scarcely to be numbred;<br /> +He was close prisoner to the State<br /> + These score dayes and nine hundred;<br /> +For Tom does set down all the dayes,<br /> + And hopes he has good debters;<br /> +’Twould be no treason (Jenkin sayes)<br /> + To bring them peaceful letters.<br /> + The King sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Poore Hudson <a name="citation28"></a><a +href="#footnote28" class="citation">[28]</a> of all was the +last,<br /> + For it was his disaster,<br /> +He met a turncoat swore that he<br /> + Was once King Charles his master;<br /> +<a name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 49</span>So he to +London soon was brought,<br /> + But came in such a season,<br /> +Their martial court was then cry’d down,<br /> + They could not try his treason.<br /> + The king sent +us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Else Hudson had gone to the pot,<br /> + Who is he can abide him?<br /> +For he was master to the King,<br /> + And (which is more) did guide him.<br /> +Had Hudson done (as Judas did),<br /> + Most loyally betray’d him,<br /> +The Houses are so noble, they<br /> + As bravely would have paid him.<br /> + The King sent us, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">We’ll then conclude with hearty +healths<br /> + To King Charles and Queen Mary;<br /> +To the black lad in buff (the Prince),<br /> + So like his grandsire Harry;<br /> +To York, to Glo’ster; may we not<br /> + Send Turk and Pope defiance,<br /> +Since we such gallant seconds have<br /> + To strengthen our alliance?<br /> +Wee’l drink them o’re and o’re again,<br /> + Else we’re unthankfull creatures;<br /> +Since Charles, the wise, the valiant King,<br /> + Takes us for loyall traytors.</p> +<p class="poetry">This if you will rhyme dogrell call,<br /> + (That you please you may name it,)<br /> +One of the loyal traytors here<br /> + Did for a ballad frame it:<br /> +<a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 50</span>Old Chevy +Chace was in his minde;<br /> + If any suit it better,<br /> +All those concerned in the song<br /> + Will kindly thank the setter.</p> +<h3>UPON HIS MAJESTY’S COMING TO HOLMBY.</h3> +<p>Charles I., after his surrender to the English Commissioners +by the Scotch, was conveyed to Holmby House, Northamptonshire, +16th February, 1647.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Hold</span> out, brave +Charles, and thou shaft win the field;<br /> +Thou canst not lose thyself, unless thou yield<br /> +On such conditions as will force thy hand<br /> +To give away thy sceptre, crown, and land.<br /> +And what is worse, to hazard by thy fall,<br /> + To lose a greater crown, more worth than all.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thy poor distressed Cavaliers rejoyced<br /> +To hear thy royal resolution voiced,<br /> +And are content far more poor to be<br /> +Than yet they are, so it reflects from thee.<br /> +Thou art our sovereign still, in spite of hate;<br /> + Our zeal is to thy <i>person</i>, not thy +<i>state</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">We are not so ambitious to desire<br /> +Our drooping fortunes to be mounted higher,<br /> +And thou so great a monarch, to our grief,<br /> +Must sue unto thy subjects for relief:<br /> +And when they sit and long debate about it,<br /> + Must either stay their time, or go without it.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +51</span>No, sacred prince, thy friends esteem thee more<br /> +In thy distresses than ere they did before;<br /> +And though their wings be clipt, their wishes fly<br /> +To heaven by millions, for a fresh supply.<br /> +That as thy cause was so betray’d by <i>men</i>,<br /> + It may by <i>angels</i> be restored agen.</p> +<h3>I THANK YOU TWICE;</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">OR</span></p> +<blockquote><p>The city courting their own ruin,<br /> +Thank the Parliament twice for their treble undoing.</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: center">A street ballad. From a +broadside, 1647.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> hierarchy is out +of date,<br /> +Our monarchy was sick of late,<br /> +But now ’tis grown an excellent state:<br /> + Oh, God a-mercy, +Parliament!</p> +<p class="poetry">The teachers knew not what to say,<br /> +The ’prentices have leave to play,<br /> +The people have all forgotten to pray;<br /> + Still, God +a-mercy, Parliament!</p> +<p class="poetry">The Roundhead and the Cavalier<br /> +Have fought it out almost seven year,<br /> +And yet, methinks, they are never the near:<br /> + Oh, God, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The gentry are sequester’d all;<br /> +Our wives you find at Goldsmith Hall,<br /> +For there they meet with the devil and all;<br /> + Still, God, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +52</span>The Parliament are grown to that height<br /> +They care not a pin what his Majesty saith;<br /> +And they pay all their debts with the public faith.<br /> + Oh, God, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though all we have here is brought to +nought,<br /> +In Ireland we have whole lordships bought,<br /> +There we shall one day be rich, ’tis thought:<br /> + Still, God, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">We must forsake our father and mother,<br /> +And for the State undo our own brother<br /> +And never leave murthering one another:<br /> + Oh, God, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now the King is caught and the devil is +dead;<br /> +Fairfax must be disbanded,<br /> +Or else he may chance be Hotham-ed.<br /> + Still, God, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">They have made King Charles a glorious king,<br +/> +He was told, long ago, of such a thing;<br /> +Now he and his subjects have reason to sing,<br /> + Oh, God, +etc.</p> +<h3>THE CITIES LOYALTIE TO THE KING.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">(Aug. 13th, 1647.)</p> +<p>The city of London made several demonstrations this year to +support the Presbyterian party in the Parliament against the +Independents and the army. In the latter end of September, +after the army had marched to London, and the Parliament <a +name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 53</span>acted under +its influence, the lord mayor and a large part of the aldermen +were committed to the Tower on the charge of high treason; and a +new mayor for the rest of the year was appointed by the +Parliament.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “London is a +fine town and a gallant city.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Why</span> kept your +train-bands such a stirre?<br /> + Why sent you them by clusters?<br /> +Then went into Saint James’s Parke?<br /> + Why took you then their musters?<br /> +Why rode my Lord up Fleet-street<br /> + With coaches at least twenty,<br /> +And fill’d they say with aldermen,<br /> + As good they had been empty?<br /> +London is a brave towne,<br /> + Yet I their cases pitty;<br /> +Their mayor and some few aldermen<br /> + Have cleane undone the city.</p> +<p class="poetry">The ’prentices are gallant blades,<br /> + And to the king are clifty;<br /> +But the lord mayor and aldermen<br /> + Are scarce so wise as thrifty.<br /> +I’le pay for the apprentices,<br /> + They to the King were hearty;<br /> +For they have done all that they can<br /> + To advance their soveraignes party.<br /> + London, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">What’s now become of your brave +Poyntz?<br /> + And of your Generall Massey? <a +name="citation29"></a><a href="#footnote29" +class="citation">[29]</a><br /> +<a name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 54</span>If you +petition for a peace,<br /> + These gallants they will slash yee.<br /> +Where now are your reformadoes?<br /> + To Scotland gone together:<br /> +’Twere better they were fairly trusst<br /> + Then they should bring them thither.<br /> + London, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">But if your aldermen were false,<br /> + Or Glyn, that’s your recorder! <a +name="citation30"></a><a href="#footnote30" +class="citation">[30]</a><br /> +Let them never betray you more,<br /> + But hang them up in order.<br /> +All these men may be coach’t as well<br /> + As any other sinner<br /> +Up Holborne, and ride forwarde still,<br /> + To Tyburne to their dinner.<br /> + London, +&c.</p> +<p class="poetry">God send the valiant General may<br /> + Restore the King to glory! <a +name="citation31"></a><a href="#footnote31" +class="citation">[31]</a><br /> +Then that name I have honour’d so<br /> + Will famous be in story;<br /> +While if he doe not, I much feare<br /> + The ruine of the nation,<br /> +And (that I should be loth to see)<br /> + His house’s desolation.<br /> + London, etc.</p> +<h3><a name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 55</span>THE +LAWYERS’ LAMENTATION FOR THE LOSS OF CHARING-CROSS.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From a Collection of Loyal Songs, +1610 to 1660.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Undone</span>! undone! the +lawyers cry,<br /> + They ramble up and down;<br /> +We know not the way to <i>Westminster</i><br /> + Now <i>Charing-Cross</i> is down.<br /> +Now fare thee well, old Charing-Cross,<br /> + Then fare thee well, old stump;<br /> +It was a thing set up by a King,<br /> + And so pull’d down by the <i>Rump</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">And when they came to the bottom of the +Strand<br /> + They were all at a loss:<br /> +This is not the way to <i>Westminster</i>,<br /> + We must go by <i>Charing-Cross</i>.<br /> + Then fare thee well, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Parliament did vote it down<br /> + As a thing they thought most fitting,<br /> +For fear it should fall, and so kill ’em all<br /> + In the House as they were sitting.<br /> + Then fare thee well, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Some letters about this <i>Cross</i> were +found,<br /> + Or else it might been freed;<br /> +But I dare say, and safely swear,<br /> + It could neither write nor read.<br /> + Then fare thee well, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The <i>Whigs</i> they do affirm and say<br /> + To <i>Popery</i> it was bent;<br /> +<a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 56</span>For what I +know it might be so,<br /> + For to church it never went,<br /> + Then fare thee well, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">This cursed <i>Rump-Rebellious Crew</i>,<br /> + They were so damn’d hard-hearted;<br /> +They pass’d a vote that <i>Charing-Cross</i><br /> + Should be taken down and carted:<br /> + Then fare thee well, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now, <i>Whigs</i>, I would advise you all,<br +/> + ’Tis what I’d have you do;<br /> +For fear the King should come again,<br /> + Pray pull down <i>Tyburn</i> too.<br /> + Then fare thee well, etc.</p> +<h3>THE DOWNFAL OF CHARING-CROSS.</h3> +<p>Charing-Cross, as it stood before the civil wars, was one of +those beautiful Gothic obelisks, erected to conjugal affection by +Edward I., who built such a one wherever the hearse of his +beloved Eleanor rested in its way from Lincolnshire to +Westminster. But neither its ornamental situation, the +beauty of its structure, nor the noble design of its erection +(which did honour to humanity), could preserve it from the +merciless zeal of the times; for in 1647 it was demolished by +order of the House of Commons, as Popish and superstitious. +This occasioned the following not unhumorous sarcasm, which has +been often printed among the popular sonnets of those times.</p> +<p>The plot referred to in ver. 3 was that entered into by Mr +Waller the poet, and others, with a view to reduce the city and +Tower to the service of the King; for which two of them, Nath. +Tomkins and Richard Chaloner, suffered death, July 5, 1643. +Vid. Ath. Ox. 11. 24.—<i>Percy’s Reliques of Ancient +English Poetry</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +57</span><span class="smcap">Undone</span>! undone! the lawyers +are,<br /> + They wander about the towne,<br /> +Nor can find the way to Westminster<br /> + Now Charing-Cross is downe:<br /> +At the end of the Strand they make a stand,<br /> + Swearing they are at a loss,<br /> +And chaffing say, that’s not the way,<br /> + They must go by Charing-Cross.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Parliament to vote it down<br /> + Conceived it very fitting,<br /> +For fear it should fall, and kill them all<br /> + In the House as they were sitting.<br /> +They were told god-wot, it had a plot,<br /> + Which made them so hard-hearted,<br /> +To give command it should not stand,<br /> + But be taken down and carted.</p> +<p class="poetry">Men talk of plots, this might have been +worse,<br /> + For anything I know,<br /> +Than that <i>Tomkins</i> and <i>Chaloner</i><br /> + Were hang’d for long agoe.<br /> +Our Parliament did that prevent,<br /> + And wisely them defended,<br /> +For plots they will discover still<br /> + Before they were intended.</p> +<p class="poetry">But neither man, woman, nor child<br /> + Will say, I’m confident,<br /> +They ever heard it speak one word<br /> + Against the Parliament.<br /> +An informer swore it letters bore,<br /> + Or else it had been freed;<br /> +In troth I’ll take my Bible oath<br /> + It could neither write nor read.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +58</span>The Committee said that verify<br /> + To Popery it was bent:<br /> +For ought I know, it might be so,<br /> + For to church it never went.<br /> +What with excise, and such device,<br /> + The kingdom doth begin<br /> +To think you’ll leave them ne’er a cross<br /> + Without doors nor within.</p> +<p class="poetry">Methinks the Common-council should<br /> + Of it have taken pity,<br /> +’Cause, good old cross, it always stood<br /> + So firmly to the city.<br /> +Since crosses you so much disdain,<br /> + Faith, if I were as you,<br /> +For fear the King should rule again<br /> + I’d pull down Tiburn too.</p> +<p>Whitlocke says, “May 3rd, 1643, Cheapside Cross and +other crosses were voted down,” &c. When this +vote was put in execution does not appear; probably not till many +mouths after Tomkins and Chaloner had suffered.</p> +<p>We had a very curious account of the pulling down of Cheapside +Cross lately published in one of the Numbers of the +<i>Gentlemen’s Magazine</i>, 1766.—<i>Percy’s +Reliques</i>.</p> +<h3>THE LONG PARLIAMENT.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By John Cleveland.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Most</span> gracious and +omnipotent,<br /> +And everlasting Parliament,<br /> + Whose power and majesty<br /> +<a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 59</span>Are +greater than all kings by odds;<br /> +And to account you less than gods<br /> + Must needs be blasphemy.</p> +<p class="poetry">Mosses and Aaron ne’er did do<br /> +More wonder than is wrought by you<br /> + For England’s Israel;<br /> +But though the Red Sea we have past,<br /> +If you to Canaan bring’s at last,<br /> + Is’t not a miracle—?</p> +<p class="poetry">In six years’ space you have done more<br +/> +Than all the parliaments before;<br /> + You have quite done the work.<br /> +The King, the Cavalier, and Pope,<br /> +You have o’erthrown, and next we hope<br /> + You will confound the Turk.</p> +<p class="poetry">By you we have deliverance<br /> +From the design of Spain and France,<br /> + Ormond, Montrose, the Danes;<br /> +You, aided by our brethren Scots,<br /> +Defeated have malignant plots,<br /> + And brought your sword to Cain’s.</p> +<p class="poetry">What wholesome laws you have ordain’d,<br +/> +Whereby our property’s maintain’d,<br /> + ’Gainst those would us undo;<br /> +So that our fortunes and our lives,<br /> +Nay, what is dearer, our own wives,<br /> + Are wholly kept by you.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh! what a flourishing Church and State<br /> +Have we enjoy’d e’er since you sate,<br /> + With a glorious King (God save him!):<br /> +<a name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 60</span>Have you +not made his Majesty,<br /> +Had he the grace but to comply,<br /> + And do as you would have him!</p> +<p class="poetry">Your <i>Directory</i> how to pray<br /> +By the spirit shows the perfect way;<br /> + In real you have abolisht<br /> +The Dagon of the <i>Common Prayer</i>,<br /> +And next we see you will take care<br /> + That churches be demolisht.</p> +<p class="poetry">A multitude in every trade<br /> +Of painful preachers you have made,<br /> + Learned by revelation;<br /> +Cambridge and Oxford made poor preachers,<br /> +Each shop affordeth better teachers,—<br /> + O blessed reformation!</p> +<p class="poetry">Your godly wisdom hath found out<br /> +The true religion, without doubt;<br /> + For sure among so many<br /> +We have five hundred at the least;<br /> +Is not the gospel much increast?<br /> + All must be pure, if any.</p> +<p class="poetry">Could you have done more piously<br /> +Than sell church lands the King to buy,<br /> + And stop the city’s plaints?<br /> +Paying the Scots church-militant,<br /> +That the new gospel helpt to plant;<br /> + God knows they are poor saints!</p> +<p class="poetry">Because th’ Apostles’ Creed is +lame,<br /> +Th’ Assembly doth a better frame,<br /> + Which saves us all with ease;<br /> +<a name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 61</span>Provided +still we have the grace<br /> +To believe th’ House in the first place,<br /> + Our works be what they please.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis strange your power and holiness<br +/> +Can’t the Irish devils dispossess,<br /> + His end is very stout:<br /> +But tho’ you do so often pray,<br /> +And ev’ry month keep fasting-day,<br /> + You cannot cast them out.</p> +<h3>THE PURITAN.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By John Cleveland.<br /> +To the tune of “An old Courtier of the +Queen’s.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">With</span> face and +fashion to be known,<br /> +For one of sure election;<br /> +With eyes all white, and many a groan,<br /> +With neck aside to draw in tone,<br /> +With harp in’s nose, or he is none:<br /> + See a new teacher of the town,<br /> + Oh the town, oh the town’s new teacher!</p> +<p class="poetry">With pate cut shorter than the brow,<br /> +With little ruff starch’d, you know how,<br /> +With cloak like Paul, no cape I trow,<br /> +With surplice none; but lately now<br /> +With hands to thump, no knees to bow:<br /> + See a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +62</span>With coz’ning cough, and hollow cheek,<br /> +To get new gatherings every week,<br /> +With paltry change of <i>and</i> to <i>eke</i>,<br /> +With some small Hebrew, and no Greek,<br /> +To find out words, when stuff’s to seek:<br /> + See a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With shop-board breeding and intrusion,<br /> +With some outlandish institution,<br /> +With Ursine’s catechism to muse on,<br /> +With system’s method for confusion,<br /> +With grounds strong laid of mere illusion:<br /> + See a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With rites indifferent all damned,<br /> +And made unlawful, if commanded;<br /> +Good works of Popery down banded,<br /> +And moral laws from him estranged,<br /> +Except the sabbath still unchanged:<br /> + See a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With speech unthought, quick revelation,<br /> +With boldness in predestination,<br /> +With threats of absolute damnation<br /> +Yet <i>yea</i> and <i>nay</i> hath some salvation<br /> +For his own tribe, not every nation:<br /> + See a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With after license cast a crown,<br /> +When Bishop new had put him down;<br /> +With tricks call’d repetition,<br /> +And doctrine newly brought to town<br /> +Of teaching men to hang and drown:<br /> + See a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +63</span>With flesh-provision to keep Lent,<br /> +With shelves of sweetmeats often spent,<br /> +Which new maid bought, old lady sent,<br /> +Though, to be saved, a poor present,<br /> +Yet legacies assure to event:<br /> + See a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With troops expecting him at th’ door,<br +/> +That would hear sermons, and no more;<br /> +With noting tools, and sighs great store,<br /> +With Bibles great to turn them o’er,<br /> +While he wrests places by the score:<br /> + See a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With running text, the named forsaken,<br /> +With <i>for</i> and <i>but</i>, both by sense shaken,<br /> +Cheap doctrines forced, wild uses taken,<br /> +Both sometimes one by mark mistaken;<br /> +With anything to any shapen:<br /> + See a new teacher, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With new-wrought caps, against the canon,<br /> +For taking cold, tho’ sure he have none;<br /> +A sermon’s end, where he began one,<br /> +A new hour long, when’s glass had run one,<br /> +New use, new points, new notes to stand on:<br /> + See a new teacher, etc.</p> +<h3><a name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 64</span>THE +ROUNDHEAD.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From Samuel Butler’s +Posthumous Works.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">What</span> +creature’s that, with his short hairs,<br /> +His little band, and huge long ears,<br /> + That this new faith hath founded?<br /> +The saints themselves were never such,<br /> +The prelates ne’er ruled half so much;<br /> + Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead.</p> +<p class="poetry">What’s he that doth the bishops hate,<br +/> +And counts their calling reprobate,<br /> + ’Cause by the Pope propounded;<br /> +And thinks a zealous cobbler better<br /> +Than learned Usher in ev’ry letter?<br /> + Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead.</p> +<p class="poetry">What’s he that doth <i>high treason</i> +say,<br /> +As often as his <i>yea</i> and <i>nay</i>,<br /> + And wish the King confounded;<br /> +And dares maintain that Mr Pim<br /> +Is fitter for a crown than him?<br /> + Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead.</p> +<p class="poetry">What’s he that if he chance to hear<br /> +A little piece of <i>Common Prayer</i>,<br /> + Doth think his conscience wounded;<br /> +Will go five miles to preach and pray,<br /> +And meet a sister by the way?<br /> + Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead.</p> +<p class="poetry">What’s he that met a holy sister<br /> +And in a haycock gently kiss’d her?<br /> + Oh! then his zeal abounded:<br /> +<a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +65</span>’Twas underneath a shady willow,<br /> +Her Bible served her for a pillow,<br /> + And there he got a Roundhead.</p> +<h3>PRATTLE YOUR PLEASURE UNDER THE ROSE.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the King’s Pamphlets, +British Museum.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">There</span> is an old +proverb which all the world knows,<br /> +Anything may be spoke, if ’t be under the rose:<br /> +Then now let us speak, whilst we are in the hint,<br /> +Of the state of the land, and th’ enormities +in’t.</p> +<p class="poetry">Under the rose be it spoke, there is a number +of knaves,<br /> +More than ever were known in a State before;<br /> +But I hope that their mischiefs have digg’d their own +graves,<br /> +And we’ll never trust knaves for their sakes any more.</p> +<p class="poetry">Under the rose be it spoken, the city’s +an ass<br /> +So long to the public to let their gold run,<br /> +To keep the King out; but ’tis now come to pass,<br /> +I am sure they will lose, whosoever has won.</p> +<p class="poetry">Under the rose be it spoken, there’s a +company of men,<br /> +Trainbands they are called—a plague confound +’em:—<br /> +<a name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 66</span>And when +they are waiting at Westminster Hall,<br /> +May their wives be beguiled and begat with child all!</p> +<p class="poetry">Under the rose be it spoken, there’s a +damn’d committee<br /> +Sits in hell (Goldsmiths’ Hall), in the midst of the +city,<br /> +Only to sequester the poor Cavaliers—<br /> +The devil take their souls, and the hangman their ears.</p> +<p class="poetry">Under the rose be it spoken, if you do not +repent<br /> +Of that horrible sin, your pure Parliament,<br /> +Pray stay till Sir Thomas doth bring in the King,<br /> +Then Derrick <a name="citation32"></a><a href="#footnote32" +class="citation">[32]</a> may chance have ’em all in a +string.</p> +<p class="poetry">Under the rose be it spoken, let the synod now +leave<br /> +To wrest the whole Scripture, how souls to deceive;<br /> +For all they have spoken or taught will ne’er save +’em,<br /> +Unless they will leave that fault, hell’s sure to have +’em!</p> +<h3><a name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 67</span>THE +DOMINION OF THE SWORD.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">A song made in the Rebellion.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Loyal Garland, 1686.<br /> +To the tune of “Love lies a bleeding.”</p> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Lay</span> by your pleading,<br /> + Law lies a bleeding;<br /> +Burn all your studies down, and<br /> + Throw away your reading.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Small pow’r the word +has,<br /> + And can afford us<br /> +Not half so much privilege as<br /> + The sword does.</p> +<p class="poetry"> It fosters your masters,<br +/> + It plaisters disasters,<br /> +It makes the servants quickly greater<br /> + Than their masters.</p> +<p class="poetry"> It venters, it enters,<br /> + It seeks and it centers,<br /> +It makes a’prentice free in spite<br /> + Of his indentures.</p> +<p class="poetry"> It talks of small things,<br +/> + But it sets up all things;<br /> +This masters money, though money<br /> + Masters all things.</p> +<p class="poetry"> It is not season<br /> + To talk of reason,<br /> +Nor call it loyalty, when the sword<br /> + Will have it treason.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <a name="page68"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 68</span>It conquers the crown, too,<br /> + The grave and the gown, too,<br /> +First it sets up a presbyter, and<br /> + Then it pulls him down too.</p> +<p class="poetry"> This subtle disaster<br /> + Turns bonnet to beaver;<br /> +Down goes a bishop, sirs, and up<br /> + Starts a weaver.</p> +<p class="poetry"> This makes a layman<br /> + To preach and to pray, man;<br /> +And makes a lord of him that<br /> + Was but a drayman.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Far from the gulpit<br /> + Of Saxby’s pulpit,<br /> +This brought an Hebrew ironmonger<br /> + To the pulpit.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Such pitiful things be<br /> + More happy than kings be;<br /> +They get the upper hand of Thimblebee<br /> + And Slingsbee.</p> +<p class="poetry"> No gospel can guide it,<br /> + No law can decide it,<br /> +In Church or State, till the sword<br /> + Has sanctified it.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Down goes your law-tricks,<br +/> + Far from the matricks,<br /> +Sprung up holy Hewson’s power,<br /> + And pull’d down St Patrick’s.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <a name="page69"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 69</span>This sword it prevails, too,<br /> + So highly in Wales, too,<br /> +Shenkin ap Powel swears<br /> + “Cots-splutterer nails, too.”</p> +<p class="poetry"> In Scotland this faster<br /> + Did make such disaster,<br /> +That they sent their money back<br /> + For which they sold their master.</p> +<p class="poetry"> It batter’d their +Gunkirk,<br /> + And so it did their Spainkirk,<br /> +That he is fled, and swears the devil<br /> + Is in Dunkirk.</p> +<p class="poetry"> He that can tower,<br /> + Or he that is lower,<br /> +Would be judged a fool to put<br /> + Away his power.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Take books and rent +’em,<br /> + Who can invent ’em,<br /> +When that the sword replies,<br /> + <i>Negatur argumentum</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Your brave college-butlers<br +/> + Must stoop to the sutlers;<br /> +There’s ne’er a library<br /> + Like to the cutlers’.</p> +<p class="poetry"> The blood that was spilt, +sir,<br /> + Hath gain’d all the gilt, sir;<br /> +Thus have you seen me run my<br /> + Sword up to the hilt, sir.</p> +<h3><a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 70</span>THE +STATE’S NEW COIN.</h3> +<p>The coinage issued during the Protectorate of Cromwell, +consisted of pieces having on the obverse side a shield with St +George’s cross, encircled by a laurel and palm branch, and +the words, “The Commonwealth of England.” On +the reverse side was the legend, “God with us,” and +two shields, bearing the arms of England and Ireland.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Saw</span> you the +State’s money new come from the Mint?<br /> + Some people do say it is wonderous fine;<br /> +And that you may read a great mystery in’t,<br /> + Of mighty King Nol, the lord of the coin.</p> +<p class="poetry">They have quite omitted his politic head,<br /> + His worshipful face, and his excellent nose;<br /> +But the better to show the life he had led,<br /> + They have fix’d upon it the print of his +hose.</p> +<p class="poetry">For, if they had set up his picture there,<br +/> + They needs must ha’ crown’d him in +Charles’s stead;<br /> +But ’twas cunningly done, that they did forbear,<br /> + And rather would set up aught else than his +head.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis monstrous strange, and yet it is +true,<br /> + In this reformation we should have such luck;<br /> +That crosses were always disdain’d by you,<br /> + Who before pull’d them down, should now set +them up.</p> +<p class="poetry">On this side they have circumscribed “God +with us,”<br /> + And in this stamp and coin they confide;<br /> +<a name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +71</span><i>Common-Wealth</i> on the other, by which we may +guess<br /> + That God and the States were not both of a side.</p> +<p class="poetry">On this side they have cross and harp,<br /> + And only a cross on the other set forth;<br /> +By which we may learn, it falls to our part<br /> + Two crosses to have for one fit of mirth!</p> +<h3>THE ANARCHIE, OR THE BLEST REFORMATION SINCE 1640.</h3> +<p>Being a new song, wherein the people expresse their thankes +and pray for the reformers.</p> +<p>To be said or sung of all the well-affected of the kingdome of +England, and dominion of Wales, before the breaking up of this +unhappy Parliament.</p> +<p>[From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. It is +printed but incorrectly in the “Rump Songs,” ed. +1665, under the title of “The Rebellion.”]</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To a rare new Tune.<br /> +(Oct. 24, 1648.)</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Now</span> that, thankes to +the powers below!<br /> + We have e’ne done out our doe,<br /> +The mitre is downe, and so is the crowne,<br /> + And with them the coronet too;<br /> +Come clownes, and come boyes, come hober-de-hoyes,<br /> + Come females of each degree;<br /> +<a name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 72</span>Stretch +your throats, bring in your votes,<br /> + And make good the anarchy.<br /> +And “thus it shall goe,” sayes Alice;<br /> + “Nay, thus it shall goe,” sayes Amy;<br +/> +“Nay, thus it shall goe,” sayes Taffie, “I +trow;”<br /> + “Nay, thus it shall goe,” sayes +Jamy.</p> +<p class="poetry">Ah! but the truth, good people all,<br /> + The truth is such a thing;<br /> +For it wou’d undoe both Church and State too,<br /> + And cut the throat of our King.<br /> +Yet not the spirit, nor the new light,<br /> + Can make this point so cleare,<br /> +But thou must bring out, thou deified rout,<br /> + What thing this truth is, and where.<br /> +Speak Abraham, speak Kester, speak Judith, speak Hester,<br /> + Speak tag and rag, short coat and long;<br /> +Truth’s the spell made us rebell,<br /> + And murther and plunder, ding-dong.<br /> +“Sure I have the truth,” sayes Numph;<br /> + “Nay, I ha’ the truth,” sayes +Clemme;<br /> +“Nay, I ha’ the truth,” sayes Reverend Ruth;<br +/> + “Nay, I ha’ the truth,” sayes +Nem.</p> +<p class="poetry">Well, let the truth be where it will,<br /> + We’re sure all else is ours;<br /> +Yet these divisions in our religions<br /> + May chance abate our powers.<br /> +Then let’s agree on some one way,<br /> + It skills not much how true;<br /> +Take Pryn and his clubs; or Say and his tubs, <a +name="citation33"></a><a href="#footnote33" +class="citation">[33]</a><br /> + Or any sect old or new;<br /> +<a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 73</span>The +devil’s i’ th’ pack, if choyce you can lack,<br +/> + We’re fourscore religions strong;<br /> +Take your choyce, the major voyce<br /> + Shall carry it, right or wrong.<br /> +“Then wee’le be of this,” sayes Megg;<br /> + “Nay, wee’le be of that,” sayes +Tibb;<br /> +“Nay, wee’le be of all,” sayes pitifull +Paul;<br /> + “Nay, wee’le be of none,” sayes +Gibb.</p> +<p class="poetry">Neighbours and friends, pray one word more,<br +/> + There’s something yet behinde;<br /> +And wise though you be, you doe not well see<br /> + In which doore sits the winde.<br /> +As for religion to speake right,<br /> + And in the Houses sence,<br /> +The matter’s all one to have any or none,<br /> + If ’twere not for the pretence.<br /> +But herein doth lurke the key of the worke,<br /> + Even to dispose of the crowne,<br /> +Dexteriously, and as may be,<br /> + For your behoofe and your owne.<br /> +“Then let’s ha’ King Charles,” sayes +George;<br /> + “Nay, let’s have his son,” sayes +Hugh;<br /> +“Nay, let’s have none,” sayes Jabbering +Jone;<br /> + “Nay, let’s be all kings,” sayes +Prue.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh we shall have (if we go on<br /> + In plunder, excise, and blood)<br /> +But few folke and poore to domineere ore,<br /> + And that will not be so good;<br /> +Then let’s resolve on some new way,<br /> + Some new and happy course,<br /> +<a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 74</span>The +country’s growne sad, the city horne-mad,<br /> + And both the Houses are worse.<br /> +The synod hath writ, the generall hath spit,<br /> + And both to like purposes too;<br /> +Religion, lawes, the truth, the cause,<br /> + Are talk’t of, but nothing we doe.<br /> +“Come, come, shal’s ha’ peace?” sayes +Nell;<br /> + “No, no, but we won’t,” sayes +Madge;<br /> +“But I say we will,” sayes firy-faced Phill;<br /> + “We will and we won’t,” sayes +Hodge.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thus from the rout who can expect<br /> + Ought but division?<br /> +Since unity doth with monarchy<br /> + Begin and end in one.<br /> +If then when all is thought their owne,<br /> + And lyes at their behest,<br /> +These popular pates reap nought but debates,<br /> + From that many round-headed beast;<br /> +Come, Royalists, then, doe you play the men,<br /> + And Cavaliers give the word;<br /> +Now let us see at what you would be,<br /> + And whether you can accord.<br /> +“A health to King Charles!” sayes Tom;<br /> + “Up with it,” sayes Ralph, like a +man;<br /> +“God blesse him,” sayes Doll; “and raise +him,” sayes Moll;<br /> + “And send him his owne!” sayes Nan.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now for these prudent things that sit<br /> + Without end and to none,<br /> +And their committees, that townes and cities<br /> + Fill with confusion;<br /> +<a name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 75</span>For the +bold troopes of sectaries,<br /> + The Scots and their partakers,<br /> +Our new British states, Col. Burges and his mates,<br /> + The covenant and its makers;<br /> +For all these wee’le pray, and in such a way,<br /> + As if it might granted be,<br /> +Jack and Gill, Mat and Will,<br /> + And all the world would agree.<br /> +“A plague take them all!” sayes Besse;<br /> + “And a pestilence too!” sayes +Margery,<br /> +“The devill!” sayes Dick; “And his dam, <a +name="citation34"></a><a href="#footnote34" +class="citation">[34]</a> too!” sayes Nick;<br /> + “Amen! and Amen!” say I.</p> +<p>It is desired that the knights and burgesses would take +especial care to send down full numbers hereof to their +respective counties and burroughs, for which they have served +apprenticeship, that all the people may rejoyce as one man for +their freedom.</p> +<h3><a name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 76</span>A +COFFIN FOR KING CHARLES,<br /> +A CROWN FOR CROMWELL,<br /> +AND A PIT FOR THE PEOPLE.</h3> +<p>From a broadside in the King’s Pamphlets, vol. viii. in +the British Museum, with the direction, “You may sing this +to the tune of ‘Faine I would.’” The tune +sometimes called “Parthenia,” and “The +King’s Complaint,” is to be found in Mr +Chappell’s Popular Music of the Olden Time. The King +was beheaded in January, 1649. This Ballad is dated the +23rd of April in the same year.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">CROMWELL ON +THE THRONE.</span></p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">So</span>, so, the deed is +done,<br /> + The royal head is sever’d,<br /> +As I meant when I first begun,<br /> + And strongly have endeavour’d.<br /> +Now Charles the First is tumbled down,<br /> + The Second I do not fear;<br /> +I grasp the sceptre, wear the crown,<br /> + Nor for Jehovah care.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">KING CHARLES +IN HIS COFFIN.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Think’st thou, base slave, though in my +grave<br /> + Like other men I lie,<br /> +My sparkling fame and royal name<br /> + Can (as thou wishest) die?<br /> +Know, caitif, in my son I live<br /> + (The Black Prince call’d by some),<br /> +And he shall ample vengeance give<br /> + To those that did my doom.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page77"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 77</span><span class="GutSmall">THE PEOPLE IN +THE PIT.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Supprest, deprest, involved in woes,<br /> + Great Charles, thy people be<br /> +Basely deceived with specious shows<br /> + By those that murther’d thee.<br /> +We are enslaved to tyrants’ hests,<br /> + Who have our freedom won:<br /> +Our fainting hope now only rests<br /> + On thy succeeding son.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">CROMWELL ON +THE THRONE.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Base vulgar! know, the more you stir,<br /> + The more your woes increase,<br /> +Your rashness will your hopes deter,<br /> + ’Tis we must give you peace.<br /> +Black Charles a traitor is proclaim’d<br /> + Unto our dignity;<br /> +He dies (if e’er by us he’s gain’d)<br /> + Without all remedy.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">KING CHARLES +IN HIS COFFIN.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Thrice perjured villain! didst not thou<br /> + And thy degenerate train,<br /> +By mankind’s Saviour’s body vow<br /> + To me thy sovereign,<br /> +To make me the most glorious king<br /> + That e’er o’er England reign’d;<br +/> +That me and mine in everything<br /> + By you should be maintain’d?</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page78"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 78</span><span class="GutSmall">THE PEOPLE IN +THE PIT.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Sweet prince! O let us pardon crave<br /> + Of thy beloved shade;<br /> +’Tis we that brought thee to the grave,<br /> + Thou wert by us betray’d.<br /> +We did believe ’twas reformation<br /> + These monsters did desire;<br /> +Not knowing that thy degradation<br /> + And death should be our hire.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">CROMWELL ON +THE THRONE.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Ye sick-brain’d fools! whose wit does +lie<br /> + In your small guts; could you<br /> +Imagine our conspiracy<br /> + Did claim no other due,<br /> +But for to spend our dearest bloods<br /> + To make rascallions flee?<br /> +No, we sought for your lives and goods,<br /> + And for a monarchy.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">KING CHARLES +IN HIS COFFIN.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">But there’s a Thunderer above,<br /> + Who, though he winks awhile,<br /> +Is not with your black deeds in love,<br /> + He hates your damned guile.<br /> +And though a time you perch upon<br /> + The top of Fortune’s wheel,<br /> +You shortly unto Acharon<br /> + (Drunk with your crimes) shall reel.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page79"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 79</span><span class="GutSmall">THE PEOPLE IN +THE PIT.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Meanwhile (thou glory of the earth)<br /> + We languishing do die:<br /> +<i>Excise</i> doth give free-quarters birth,<br /> + While soldiers multiply.<br /> +Our lives we forfeit every day,<br /> + Our money cuts our throats;<br /> +The laws are taken clean away,<br /> + Or shrunk to traitor’s votes.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">CROMWELL ON +THE THRONE.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Like patient mules resolve to bear<br /> + Whate’er we shall impose;<br /> +Your lives and goods you need not fear,<br /> + We’ll prove your friends, not foes.<br /> +We (the <i>elected</i> ones) must guide<br /> + A thousand years this land;<br /> +You must be props unto our pride,<br /> + And slaves to our command.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">KING CHARLES +IN HIS COFFIN.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">But you may fail of your fair hopes,<br /> + If fates propitious be;<br /> +And yield your loathed lives in ropes<br /> + To vengeance and to me.<br /> +When as the Swedes and Irish join,<br /> + The Cumbrian and the Scot<br /> +Do with the Danes and French combine,<br /> + Then look unto your lot.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page80"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 80</span><span class="GutSmall">THE PEOPLE IN +THE PIT.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Our wrongs have arm’d us with such +strength,<br /> + So sad is our condition,<br /> +That could we hope that now at length<br /> + We might find intermission,<br /> +And had but half we had before,<br /> + Ere these mechanics sway’d;<br /> +To our revenge, knee-deep in gore,<br /> + We would not fear to wade.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">CROMWELL ON +THE THRONE.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">In vain (fond people) do you grutch<br /> + And tacitly repine.<br /> +For why? my skill and strength are such<br /> + Both poles of heaven are mine.<br /> +Your hands and purses both cohered<br /> + To raise us to this height:<br /> +You must protect those you have rear’d,<br /> + Or sink beneath their weight.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">KING CHARLES +IN HIS COFFIN.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Singing with angels near the throne<br /> + Of the Almighty Three<br /> +I sit, and know perdition<br /> + (Base Cromwell) waits on thee,<br /> +And on thy vile associates:<br /> + Twelve months <a name="citation35"></a><a +href="#footnote35" class="citation">[35]</a> shall full +conclude<br /> +Your power—thus speak the powerful fates,<br /> + Then <i>vades</i> your interlude.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page81"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 81</span><span class="GutSmall">THE PEOPLE IN +THE PIT.</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Yea, powerful fates, haste, haste the time,<br +/> + The most auspicious day,<br /> +On which these monsters of our time<br /> + To hell must post away.<br /> +Meanwhile, so pare their sharpen’d claws,<br /> + And so impair their stings,<br /> +We may no more fight for the Cause<br /> + Or other <i>novel</i> things!</p> +<h3>A SHORT LITANY FOR THE YEAR 1649.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By Samuel Butler. (From his +Posthumous Works.)</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">From</span> all the +mischiefs that I mention here,<br /> +Preserve us, Heaven, in this approaching year:<br /> +From civil wars and those uncivil things<br /> +That hate the race of all our queens and kings;<br /> +From those who for self-ends would all betray,<br /> +From saints that curse and flatter when they pray;<br /> +From those that hold it merit to rebel,<br /> +In treason, murthers, and in theft excel;<br /> +From those new teachers have destroy’d the old,<br /> +And those that turn the gospel into gold;<br /> +From a High-Court, and that rebellious crew<br /> +That did their hands in royal blood imbrue,—<br /> +Defend us, Heaven, and to the throne restore<br /> +The rightful heir, and we will ask no more.</p> +<h3><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 82</span>THE +SALE OF REBELLION’S HOUSE-HOLD STUFF.</h3> +<p>Printed in “Percy’s Reliques,” from an old +black-letter copy in Mr Pepys’ collection, corrected by two +others, one of which is preserved in a Choice Collection of 120 +Loyal Songs—1684</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “Old Sir Simon +the King.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Rebellion</span> hath +broken up house,<br /> + And hath left me old lumber to sell;<br /> +Come hither and take your choice,<br /> + I’ll promise to use you well.<br /> +Will you buy the old Speaker’s chair?<br /> + Which was warm and easy to sit in,<br /> +And oft has been clean’d, I declare,<br /> + Whereas it was fouler than fitting.<br /> + Says old Simon the King,<br /> + Says old Simon the King,<br /> +With his ale-dropt hose, and his Malmsey nose,<br /> + Sing, hey ding, ding-a-ding, +ding.</p> +<p class="poetry">Will you buy any bacon flitches,<br /> + The fattest that ever were spent?<br /> +They’re the sides of the old committees<br /> + Fed up in the Long Parliament.<br /> +Here’s a pair of bellows and tongs,<br /> + And for a small matter I’ll sell ye +’um,<br /> +They are made of the presbyter’s lungs,<br /> + To blow up the coals of rebellion.<br /> + Says old Simon, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +83</span>I had thought to have given them once<br /> + To some blacksmith for his forge;<br /> +But now I have consider’d on’t,<br /> + They are consecrate to the Church:<br /> +So I’ll give them unto some quire,<br /> + They will make the big organs roar,<br /> +And the little pipes to squeak higher<br /> + Than ever they could before.<br /> + Says old Simon, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Here’s a couple of stools for sale,<br /> + One’s square, and t’other is round;<br +/> +Betwixt them both, the tail<br /> + Of the Rump fell down to the ground.<br /> +Will you buy the State’s council-table,<br /> + Which was made of the good wain-Scot?<br /> +The frame was a tottering Babel,<br /> + To uphold th’ Independent plot.<br /> + Says old Simon, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Here’s the besom of Reformation,<br /> + Which should have made clean the floor;<br /> +But it swept the wealth out of the nation,<br /> + And left us dirt good store.<br /> +Will you buy the state’s spinning-wheel,<br /> + Which spun for the roper’s trade?<br /> +But better it had stood still,<br /> + For now it has spun a fair thread.<br /> + Says old Simon, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Here’s a glyster-pipe well tried,<br /> + Which was made of a butcher’s stump,<br /> +And has been safely applied<br /> + To cure the colds of the Rump.<br /> +<a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +84</span>Here’s a lump of pilgrim’s-salve,<br /> + Which once was a justice of peace,<br /> +Who Noll and the devil did serve,<br /> + But now it is come to this,<br /> + Says old Simon, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Here’s a roll of the State’s +tobacco,<br /> + If any good fellow will take it;<br /> +No Virginia had e’er such a Smack-o,<br /> + And I’ll tell you how they did make it:<br /> +’Tis th’ Engagement and Covenant cook’t<br /> + Up with the abjuration oath,<br /> +And many of them that have took’t<br /> + Complain it was foul in the mouth.<br /> + Says old Simon, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet the ashes may happily serve<br /> + To cure the scab of the nation,<br /> +Whene’er’t has an itch to swerve<br /> + To rebellion by innovation.<br /> +A lanthorn here is to be bought,<br /> + The like was scarce ever gotten,<br /> +For many plots it has found out<br /> + Before they ever were thought on.<br /> + Says old Simon, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Will you buy the Rump’s great saddle,<br +/> + With which it jockey’d the nation?<br /> +And here is the bit and the bridle,<br /> + And curb of dissimulation;<br /> +And here’s the trunk-hose of the Rump,<br /> + And their fair dissembling cloak;<br /> +<a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 85</span>And a +Presbyterian jump,<br /> + With an Independent smock.<br /> + Says old Simon, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Will you buy a conscience oft turn’d,<br +/> + Which served the High-Court of justice,<br /> +And stretch’d until England it mourn’d,<br /> + But hell will buy that if the worst is.<br /> +Here’s Joan Cromwell’s kitchen-stuff tub,<br /> + Wherein is the fat of the Rumpers,<br /> +With which old Noll’s horns she did rub,<br /> + When he was got drunk with false bumbers.<br /> + Says old Simon, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Here’s the purse of the public faith;<br +/> + Here’s the model of the Sequestration,<br /> +When the old wives upon their good troth<br /> + Lent thimbles to ruin the nation.<br /> +Here’s Dick Cromwell’s Protectorship,<br /> + And here are Lambert’s commissions,<br /> +And here is Hugh Peters his scrip,<br /> + Cramm’d with tumultuous petitions.<br /> + Says old Simon, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">And here are old Noll’s brewing +vessels,<br /> + And here are his dray and his flings;<br /> +Here are Hewson’s <a name="citation36"></a><a +href="#footnote36" class="citation">[36]</a> awl and his +bristles,<br /> + With diverse other odd things:<br /> +And what is the price doth belong<br /> + To all these matters before ye?<br /> +I’ll sell them all for an old song,<br /> + And so I do end my story.<br /> + Says old Simon, etc.</p> +<h3><a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 86</span>THE +CAVALIER’S FAREWELL TO HIS MISTRESS, BEING CALLED TO THE +WARRS.</h3> +<p>The following song was extracted from the MS. Diary of the +Rev. John Adamson (afterwards Rector of Burton Coggles, +Lincolnshire), commencing in 1658; by a correspondent of Notes +and Queries, First Series, Jan. 18, 1851.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Fair</span> Fidelia, tempt +no more,<br /> +I may no more thy deity adore<br /> +Nor offer to thy shrine,<br /> +I serve one more divine<br /> +And farr more great than you:<br /> + I must goe,<br /> + Lest the foe<br /> +Gaine the cause and win the day.<br /> +Let’s march bravely on,<br /> +Charge ym in the van,<br /> +Our cause God’s is,<br /> +Though their odds is<br /> + Ten to one.</p> +<p class="poetry">Tempt no more, I may not yeeld<br /> + Altho’ thine eyes<br /> + A kingdome may surprize:<br /> + Leave off thy wanton toiles,<br /> + The high-borne Prince of Wales<br +/> +Is mounted in the field,<br /> + Where the royall gentry flocke.<br +/> + Though alone<br +/> + Nobly borne<br +/> + Of a ne’re decaying +stocke.<br /> + <a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +87</span>Cavaliers, be bold,<br /> + Bravely keep your hold,<br /> + He that loyters<br /> + Is by traytors<br /> + + +Bought and sold.</p> +<p class="poetry">One kisse more, and then farewell;<br /> + Oh no, no +more,<br /> + I prithee give +me o’er,—<br /> + Why cloudest thou thy beames?<br /> + I see by these extreames<br /> +A woman’s heaven or hell.<br /> + Pray the King may have his owne,<br /> + And the Queen<br +/> + May be seen<br +/> + With her babes on England’s throne.<br /> + Rally up your men,<br /> + One shall vanquish ten,<br /> + Victory, we<br /> + Come to try thee<br /> + + +Once agen.</p> +<h3>THE LAST NEWS FROM FRANCE.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">[From vol. iii. of the Roxburgh +Ballads, in the British Museum.]</p> +<p>The last news from France, being a true relation of the escape +of the King of Scots from Worcester to London and from London to +France,—who was conveyed away by a young gentleman in +woman’s apparel; the King of Scots attending on this +supposed gentlewoman in manner of a serving-man.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page88"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 88</span>Tune, “When the King enjoys his +own again.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">All</span> you that do +desire to know<br /> + What is become of the King o’ Scots,<br /> +I unto you will truly show<br /> + After the fight of Northern Rats.<br /> + ’Twas I +did convey<br /> + His Highness +away,<br /> +And from all dangers set him free;—<br /> + In woman +attire,<br /> + As reason did +require,<br /> +And the King himself did wait on me.</p> +<p class="poetry">He of me a service did crave,<br /> + And oftentimes to me stood bare;<br /> +In woman’s apparel he was most brave,<br /> + And on his chin he had no hare;<br /> + Wherever I +came<br /> + My speeches did +frame<br /> +So well my waiting-man to free,<br /> + The like was +never known<br /> + I think by any I +one,<br /> +For the King himself did wait on me.</p> +<p class="poetry">My waiting-man a jewel had,<br /> + Which I for want of money sold;<br /> +Because my fortune was so bad<br /> + We turn’d our jewel into gold.<br /> + A good shift +indeed,<br /> + In time of our +need,<br /> +Then glad was I and glad was he;<br /> + Our cause it did +advance<br /> + Until we came to +France,<br /> +And the King himself did wait on me.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +89</span>We walked through Westminster Hall,<br /> + Where law and justice doth take place<br /> +Our grief was great, our comfort small,<br /> + We lookt grim death all in the face.<br /> + I lookt round +about,<br /> + And made no +other doubt<br /> +But I and my man should taken be;<br /> + The people +little knew,<br /> + As I may tell to +you,<br /> +The King himself did wait on me.</p> +<p class="poetry">From thence we went to the fatal place<br /> + Where his father lost his life;<br /> +And then my man did weep apace,<br /> + And sorrow with him then was rife.<br /> + I bid him +peace,<br /> + Let sorrow +cease,<br /> +For fear that we should taken be.<br /> + The gallants in +Whitehall<br /> + Did little know +at all<br /> +That the King himself did wait on me.</p> +<p class="poetry">The King he was my serving-man,<br /> + And thus the plot we did contrive:<br /> +I went by the name of Mistress Anne<br /> + When we took water at Queenhythe.<br /> + A boat there we +took,<br /> + And London +forsook,<br /> +And now in France arrived are we.<br /> + We got away by +stealth,<br /> + And the King is +in good health,<br /> +And he shall no longer wait on me.</p> +<p class="poetry">The King of Denmark’s dead, they say,<br +/> + Then Charles is like to rule the land;<br /> +<a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 90</span>In France +he will no longer stay,<br /> + As I do rightly understand.<br /> + That land is his +due,<br /> + If they be but +true,<br /> +And he with them do well agree:<br /> + I heard a bird +sing<br /> + If he once be +their king,<br /> +My man will then my master be.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now Heaven grant them better success<br /> + With their young king than England had;<br /> +Free from war and from distress,<br /> + Their fortune may not be so bad;<br /> + Since the case +thus stands,<br /> + Let neighbouring +lands<br /> +Lay down their arms and at quiet be;<br /> + But as for my +part,<br /> + I am glad with +all my heart<br /> +That my King must now my master be.</p> +<p class="poetry">And thus I have declared to you<br /> + By what means we escaped away;<br /> +Now we bid our cares adieu,<br /> + Though the King did lose the day.<br /> + To him I was +true,<br /> + And that he well +knew;<br /> +’Tis God that must his comfort be,<br /> + Else all our +policy<br /> + Had been but +foolery,<br /> +For the King no longer waits on me.</p> +<h3><a name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 91</span>SONG +TO THE FIGURE TWO.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From vol. ii. of the Roxburgh +Ballads, in the British Museum.</p> +<p class="poetry">A merry new song wherein you may view<br /> +The drinking healths of a joviall crew,<br /> +To t’ happie return of the figure of <span +class="GutSmall">TWO</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">The figure of <span +class="smcap">Two</span> is a palpable allusion to Charles +II. Tune, “Ragged, and torn, and true.”</p> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">have</span> been a +traveller long,<br /> + And seen the conditions of all;<br /> +I see how each other they wrong,<br /> + And the weakest still goes to the wall.<br /> +And here I’ll begin to relate<br /> + The crosse condition of those<br /> +That hinder our happy fate,<br /> + And now are turned our foes.<br /> +Here’s a health to the figure of <span +class="smcap">Two</span>,<br /> + To the rest of the issue renown’d;<br /> +We’ll bid all our sorrows adieu,<br /> + When the figure of <span class="smcap">Two</span> +shall be crown’d.</p> +<p class="poetry">I crossed the ocean of late,<br /> + And there I did meet with a crosse,<br /> +But having a pretty estate,<br /> + I never lamented my losse:<br /> +I never lamented my harmes,<br /> + And yet I was wondrous sad;<br /> +I found all the land up in arms,<br /> + And I thought all the folke had bin mad.<br /> + Here’s a health, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Kind countrymen, how fell ye out?<br /> + I left you all quiet and still;<br /> +But things are now brought so about,<br /> + You nothing but plunder and kill;<br /> +<a name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 92</span>Some doe +seem seemingly holy,<br /> + And would be reformers of men,<br /> +But wisdom doth laugh at their folly,<br /> + And sayes they’ll be children agen,<br /> + Here’s a health, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">But woe to the figure of One!<br /> + King Solomon telleth us so;<br /> +But he shall be wronged by none<br /> + That hath two strings to his bow.<br /> +How I love this figure of <span class="smcap">Two</span><br /> + Among all the figures that be,<br /> +I’ll make it appear unto you<br /> + If that you will listen to me.<br /> + Here’s a health, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Observe when the weather is cold<br /> + I wear a cap on my head,<br /> +But wish, if I may be so bold,<br /> + The figure of <span class="smcap">Two</span> in my +bed.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Two</span> in my bed I do crave,<br /> + And that is myself and my mate;<br /> +But pray do not think I would have<br /> + <span class="smcap">Two</span> large great hornes on +my pate.<br /> + Here’s a health, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Since Nature hath given two hands,<br /> + But when they are foul I might scorn them;<br /> +Yet people thus much understands,<br /> + <span class="smcap">Two</span> fine white gloves +will adorn them.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Two</span> feet for to bear up my body,<br /> + No more had the knight of the sun;<br /> +But people would think me a noddy<br /> + If two shoes I would not put on.<br /> + Here’s a health, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +93</span>The figure of <span class="smcap">Two</span> is a +thing<br /> + That we cannot well live without,<br /> +No more than without a good king,<br /> + Though we be never so stout;<br /> +And thus we may well understand,<br /> + If ever our troubles should cease,<br /> +Two needful things in a land<br /> + Is a king and a justice of peace.<br /> + Here’s a health, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">And now for to draw to an end,<br /> + I wish a good happy conclusion,<br /> +The State would so much stand our friend,<br /> + To end this unhappy confusion;<br /> +The which might be done in a trice,<br /> + In giving of Cæsar his due;<br /> +If we were so honest and wise<br /> + As to think of the figure of <span +class="smcap">Two</span>.<br /> + Here’s a health, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">If any desire to know,<br /> + This riddle I now will unfold,<br /> +It is a man wrapped in woe,<br /> + Whose father is wrapped in mould:<br /> +So now to conclude my song,<br /> + I mention him so much the rather<br /> +Because he hath suffer’d some wrong,<br /> + And bears up the name of his father.<br /> + Here’s a health, etc.</p> +<h3><a name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 94</span>THE +REFORMATION.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">Written in the year 1652, by Samuel +Butler. From his Posthumous Works.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Tell</span> me not of Lords +and laws,<br /> + Rules or reformation;<br /> +All that’s done not worth two straws<br /> + To the welfare of the nation;<br /> +If men in power do rant it still,<br /> +And give no reason but their will<br /> + For all their domination;<br /> +Or if they do an act that’s just,<br /> +’Tis not because they would, but must,<br /> +To gratify some party’s lust.</p> +<p class="poetry">All our expense of blood and purse<br /> + Has yet produced no profit;<br /> +Men are still as bad or worse,<br /> + And will whate’er comes of it.<br /> +We’ve shuffled out and shuffled in<br /> +The person, but retain the sin,<br /> + To make our game the surer;<br /> +Yet spight of all our pains and skill,<br /> +The knaves all in the pack are still,<br /> +And ever were, and ever will,<br /> + Though something now demurer.</p> +<p class="poetry">And it can never be so,<br /> + Since knaves are still in fashion;<br /> +Men of souls so base and low,<br /> + Meer bigots of the nation;<br /> +<a name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 95</span>Whose +designs are power and wealth,<br /> +At which by rapine, power, and stealth,<br /> + Audaciously they vent’re ye;<br /> +They lay their consciences aside,<br /> +And turn with every wind and tide,<br /> +Puff’d on by ignorance and pride,<br /> + And all to look like gentry.</p> +<p class="poetry">Crimes are not punish’d ’cause +they’re crimes,<br /> + But cause they’re low and little:<br /> +Mean men for mean faults in these times<br /> + Make satisfaction to tittle;<br /> +While those in office and in power<br /> +Boldly the underlings devour,<br /> + Our cobweb laws can’t hold ’em;<br /> +They sell for many a thousand crown<br /> +Things which were never yet their own,<br /> +And this is law and custom grown,<br /> + ’Cause those do judge who sold ’em.</p> +<p class="poetry">Brothers still with brothers brawl,<br /> + And for trifles sue ’em;<br /> +For two pronouns that spoil all<br /> + Contentious <i>meum</i> and <i>tuum</i>.<br /> +The wary lawyer buys and builds<br /> +While the client sells his fields<br /> + To sacrifice his fury;<br /> +And when he thinks t’ obtain his right,<br /> +He’s baffled off or beaten quite<br /> +By the judge’s will, or lawyer’s slight,<br /> + Or ignorance of the jury.</p> +<p class="poetry">See the tradesman how he thrives<br /> + With perpetual trouble:<br /> +How he cheats and how he strives,<br /> + His estate t’ enlarge and double;<br /> +<a name="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 96</span>Extort, +oppress, grind and encroach,<br /> +To be a squire and keep a coach,<br /> + And to be one o’ th’ quorum;<br /> +Who may with’s brother-worships sit,<br /> +And judge without law, fear, or wit,<br /> +Poor petty thieves, that nothing get,<br /> + And yet are brought before ’em.</p> +<p class="poetry">And his way to get all this<br /> + Is mere dissimulation;<br /> +No factious lecture does he miss,<br /> + And ’scape no schism that’s in +fashion:<br /> +But with short hair and shining shoes,<br /> +He with two pens and note-book goes,<br /> + And winks and writes at random;<br /> +Thence with short meal and tedious grace,<br /> +In a loud tone and public place,<br /> +Sings wisdom’s hymns, that trot and pace<br /> + As if Goliah scann’d ’em.</p> +<p class="poetry">But when Death begins his threats,<br /> + And his conscience struggles<br /> +To call to mind his former cheats,<br /> + Then at Heaven he turns and juggles:<br /> +And out of all’s ill-gotten store<br /> +He gives a dribbling to the poor;<br /> + An hospital or school-house;<br /> +And the suborn’d priest for his hire<br /> +Quite frees him from th’ infernal fire,<br /> +And places him in th’ angel’s quire:<br /> + Thus these Jack-puddings fool us!</p> +<p class="poetry">All he gets by’s pains i’ th’ +close,<br /> + Is, that he dy’d worth so much;<br /> +Which he on’s doubtful seed bestows,<br /> + That neither care nor know much:<br /> +<a name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>Then +fortune’s favourite, his heir,<br /> +Bred base and ignorant and bare,<br /> + Is blown up like a bubble:<br /> +Who wondering at’s own sudden rise,<br /> +By pride, simplicity, and vice,<br /> +Falls to his sports, drink, drabs, and dice,<br /> + And make all fly like stubble.</p> +<p class="poetry">And the Church, the other twin,<br /> + Whose mad zeal enraged us,<br /> +Is not purified a pin<br /> + By all those broils in which th’ engaged +us:<br /> +We our wives turn’d out of doors,<br /> +And took in concubines and whores,<br /> + To make an alteration;<br /> +Our pulpitors are proud and bold,<br /> +They their own wills and factions hold,<br /> +And sell salvation still for gold,<br /> + And here’s our <i>reformation</i>!</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis a madness then to make<br /> + Thriving our employment,<br /> +And lucre love for lucre’s sake,<br /> + Since we’ve possession, not enjoyment:<br /> +Let the times run on their course,<br /> +For oppression makes them worse,<br /> + We ne’er shall better find ’em;<br /> +Let grandees wealth and power engross,<br /> +And honour, too, while we sit close,<br /> +And laugh and take our plenteous dose<br /> + Of sack, and never mind ’em.</p> +<h3><a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 98</span>UPON +THE GENERAL PARDON PASSED BY THE RUMP.</h3> +<p>From a broadside in the King’s Pamphlets, British +Museum. After Cromwell’s victory at Worcester, he +prevailed on the Parliament to pass a general, or quasi-general, +amnesty for all political offences committed prior to that +time.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Rejoice</span>, rejoice, ye +Cavaliers,<br /> +For here comes that dispels your fears;<br /> +A general pardon is now past,<br /> +What was long look’d for, comes at last.</p> +<p class="poetry">It pardons all that are undone;<br /> +The Pope ne’er granted such a one:<br /> +So long, so large, so full, so free,<br /> +Oh what a glorious State have we!</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet do not joy too much, my friends,<br /> +First see how well this pardon ends;<br /> +For though it hath a glorious face,<br /> +I fear there’s in’t but little grace.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis said the mountains once brought +forth,—<br /> +And what brought they? a mouse, in troth;<br /> +Our States have done the like, I doubt,<br /> +In this their pardon now set out.</p> +<p class="poetry">We’ll look it o’er, then, if you +please,<br /> +And see wherein it brings us ease:<br /> +And first, it pardons words, I find,<br /> +Against our State—words are but wind.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hath any pray’d for th’ King of +late,<br /> +And wish’d confusion to our State?<br /> +And call’d them rebels? He may come in<br /> +And plead this pardon for that sin.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +99</span>Has any call’d King Charles that’s dead<br +/> +A martyr—he that lost his head?<br /> +And villains those that did the fact?<br /> +That man is pardon’d by this Act.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hath any said our Parliament<br /> +I such a one as God ne’er sent?<br /> +Or hath he writ, and put in print,<br /> +That he believes the devil’s in’t?</p> +<p class="poetry">Or hath he said there never were<br /> +Such tyrants anywhere as here?<br /> +Though this offence of his be high,<br /> +He’s pardon’d for his blasphemy.</p> +<p class="poetry">You see how large this pardon is,<br /> +It pardons all our <i>Mercuries</i>, <a name="citation37"></a><a +href="#footnote37" class="citation">[37]</a><br /> +And poets too, for you know they<br /> +Are poor, and have not aught to pay.</p> +<p class="poetry">For where there’s money to be got,<br /> +I find this pardon pardons not;<br /> +Malignants that were rich before,<br /> +Shall not be pardon’d till they’re poor.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hath any one been true to th’ Crown,<br +/> +And for that paid his money down,<br /> +By this new Act he shall be free,<br /> +And pardon’d for his loyalty.</p> +<p class="poetry">Who have their lands confiscate quite,<br /> +For not compounding when they might;<br /> +If that they know not how to dig,<br /> +This pardon gives them leave to beg.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +100</span>Before this Act came out in print,<br /> +We thought there had been comfort in’t;<br /> +We drank some healths to the higher powers,<br /> +But now we’ve seen’t they’d need drink +ours.</p> +<p class="poetry">For by this Act it is thought fit<br /> +That no man shall have benefit,<br /> +Unless he first engage to be<br /> +A rebel to eternity.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thus, in this pardon it is clear<br /> +That nothing’s here and nothing’s there:<br /> +I think our States do mean to choke us<br /> +With this new Act of <i>hocus pocus</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Well, since this Act’s not worth a +pin,<br /> +We’ll pray our States to call it in,<br /> +For most men think it ought to be<br /> +Burnt by the hand of Gregory.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then, to conclude, here’s little joy<br +/> +For those that pray <i>Vive le Roy</i>!<br /> +But since they’ll not forget our crimes,<br /> +We’ll keep our mirth till better times.</p> +<h3>AN OLD SONG ON OLIVER’S COURT.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">Written in the year 1654, by Samuel +Butler.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">He</span> that would a new +courtier be<br /> +And of the late coyn’d gentry;<br /> +A brother of the prick-eared crew,<br /> +Half a presbyter, half a Jew,<br /> +<a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 101</span>When he +is dipp’d in Jordan’s flood,<br /> +And wash’d his hands in royal blood,<br /> + Let him to our court repair,<br /> + Where all trades and religions are.</p> +<p class="poetry">If he can devoutly pray,<br /> +Feast upon a fasting day,<br /> +Be longer blessing a warm bit<br /> +Than the cook was dressing it;<br /> +With covenants and oaths dispense,<br /> +Betray his lord for forty pence,<br /> + Let him, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">If he be one of the eating tribe,<br /> +Both a Pharisee and a Scribe,<br /> +And hath learn’d the snivelling tone<br /> +Of a flux’d devotion;<br /> +Cursing from his sweating tub<br /> +The Cavaliers to Beelzebub,<br /> + Let him, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Who sickler than the city ruff,<br /> +Can change his brewer’s coat to buff,<br /> +His dray-cart to a coach, the beast<br /> +Into Flanders mares at least;<br /> +Nay, hath the art to murder kings,<br /> +Like David, only with his slings,<br /> + Let him, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">If he can invert the word,<br /> +Turning his ploughshare to a sword,<br /> +His cassock to a coat of mail;<br /> +’Gainst bishops and the clergy rail;<br /> +<a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 102</span>Convert +Paul’s church into the mews;<br /> +Make a new colonel of old shoes,<br /> + Let him, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Who hath commission to convey<br /> +Both sexes to <i>Jamaica</i>,<br /> +There to beget new babes of grace<br /> +On wenches hotter than the place,<br /> +Who carry in their tails a fire<br /> +Will rather scorch than quench desire,<br /> + Let him, etc.</p> +<h3>THE PARLIAMENT ROUTED,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR</span><br /> +HERE’S A HOUSE TO BE LET.</h3> +<p class="poetry">I hope that England, after many jarres,<br /> +Shall be at peace, and give no way to warres:<br /> +O Lord, protect the generall, that he<br /> +May be the agent of our unitie.</p> +<p>Written upon the dissolution of the Long Parliament by +Cromwell, on the 20th April, 1653, and extracted from the +King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. June 3rd, 1653.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “Lucina, or, +Merrily and Cherrily.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Cheare</span> up, kind +countrymen, be not dismay’d,<br /> + True news I can tell ye concerning the nation;<br /> +Hot spirits are quench’d, the tempest is layd,<br /> + (And now we may hope for a good reformation).<br /> +<a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 103</span>The +Parliament bold and the counsell of state<br /> + Doe wish them beyond sea, or else at Virginie;<br /> +For now all their orders are quite out of date,<br /> + Twelve Parliament men shall be sold for peny.</p> +<p class="poetry">Full twelve years and more these rooks they +have sat,<br /> + To gull and to cozen all true-hearted people;<br /> +Our gold and our silver has made them so fat,<br /> + That they lookt more big and mighty than +Paul’s steeple.<br /> +The freedome of subject they much did pretend,<br /> + But since they bore sway we never had any;<br /> +For every member promoted self-end,<br /> + Twelve Parliament men are now sold for one peny.</p> +<p class="poetry">Their acts and their orders which they have +contrived,<br /> + Was still in conclusion to multiply riches:<br /> +The Common-wealth sweetly by these men have thrived,<br /> + As Lancashire did with the juncto of witches. <a +name="citation38"></a><a href="#footnote38" +class="citation">[38]</a><br /> +<a name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 104</span>Oh! our +freedome was chain’d to the Egyptian yoak,<br /> + As it hath been felt and endured by many,<br /> +Still making religion their author and cloak,<br /> + Twelve Parliament men shall be sold for a peny.</p> +<p class="poetry">Both citie and countrey are almost undone<br /> + By these caterpillars, which swarm’d in the +nation;<br /> +Their imps and their goblins did up and downe run,<br /> + Excise-men, I meane, all knaves of a fashion:<br /> +For all the great treasure that dayly came in,<br /> + The souldier wants pay, ’tis well knowne by a +many;<br /> +To cheat and to cozen they held it no sinne,<br /> + Twelve Parliament men shall be sold for a peny.</p> +<p class="poetry">The land and the livings which these men have +had,<br /> + ’Twould make one admire what use they’ve +made of it,<br /> +With plate and with jewels they have bin well clad,<br /> + The souldier fared hard whilst they got the +profit.<br /> +<a name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 105</span>Our gold +and our silver to Holland they sent,<br /> + But being found out, this is knowne by a many,<br /> +That no one would owne it for feare of a shent,<br /> + Twelve Parliament men are sold for a peny.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis judged by most people that they were +the cause<br /> + Of England and Holland, their warring together, <a +name="citation39"></a><a href="#footnote39" +class="citation">[39]</a><br /> +Both friends and dear lovers to break civill lawes,<br /> + And in cruell manner to kill one another.<br /> +What cared they how many did lose their dear lives,<br /> + So they by the bargain did get people’s +money,<br /> +Sitting secure like bees in their hives?<br /> + But twelve Parliament men are now sold for a +peny.</p> +<h4>THE SECOND PART</h4> +<p style="text-align: center">To the same tune.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">They</span> voted, unvoted, +as fancy did guide,<br /> + To passe away time, but increasing their treasure<br +/> +(When Jack is on cock-horse hee’l galloping ride,<br /> + But falling at last, hee’l repent it at +leisure).<br /> +The widow, the fatherlesse, gentry and poore,<br /> + The tradesman and citizen, with a great many,<br /> +Have suffer’d full dearly to heap up their store;<br /> + But twelve Parliament men shall be sold for a +peny.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +106</span>These burdens and grievances England hath felt,<br /> + So long and so heavy, our hearts are e’en +broken,<br /> +Our plate, gold and silver, to themselves they’ve dealt<br +/> + (All this is too true, in good time be it +spoken).<br /> +For a man to rise high and at last to fall low,<br /> + It is a discredit: this lot fals to many,<br /> +But ’tis no great matter these men to serve so,<br /> + Twelve Parliament men now are sold for a peny.</p> +<p class="poetry">The generall <a name="citation40"></a><a +href="#footnote40" class="citation">[40]</a> perceiving their +lustfull desire<br /> + To covet more treasure, being puft with ambition,<br +/> +By their acts and their orders to set all on fire,<br /> + Pretending religion to rout superstition:<br /> +He bravely commanded the souldiers to goe<br /> + In the Parliament-house, in defiance of any;<br /> +To which they consented, and now you doe know<br /> + That twelve Parliament men may be sold for a +peny.</p> +<p class="poetry">The souldiers undaunted laid hold on the +mace,<br /> + And out of the chaire they removed the speaker:<br +/> +The great ones was then in a pittifull case,<br /> + And Tavee cryd out, All her cold must forsake her. +<a name="citation41"></a><a href="#footnote41" +class="citation">[41]</a><br /> +Thus they were routed, pluckt out by the eares,<br /> + The House was soone empty and rid of a many<br /> +Usurpers, that sate there this thirteen long yeares;<br /> + Twelve Parliament men may be sold for a peny.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +107</span>To the Tower of London away they were sent,<br /> + As they have sent others by them captivated;<br /> +Oh what will become of this old Parliament<br /> + And all their compeers, that were royally stated.<br +/> +What they have deserved I wish they may have,<br /> + And ’tis the desire I know of a many;<br /> +For us to have freedome, oh that will be brave!<br /> + But twelve Parliament men may be sold for a +peny.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let’s pray for the generall and all his +brave traine,<br /> + He may be an instrument for England’s +blessing,<br /> +Appointed in heaven to free us againe,—<br /> + For this is the way of our burdens redressing:<br /> +For England to be in glory once more,<br /> + It would satisfy, I know, a great many;<br /> +But ending I say, as I said before,<br /> + Twelve Parliament men now are sold for a peny.</p> +<h3>A CHRISTMAS SONG WHEN THE RUMP WAS FIRST DISSOLVED.</h3> +<p>From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. The +Rump Parliament, in an excess of Puritanic acerbity, had +abolished the observance of Christmas, and forbidden the eating +of puddings and pies, as savouring of Popery.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Tune—“I tell thee, +Dick.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">This</span> Christmas time +’tis fit that we<br /> +Should feast, and sing, and merry be.<br /> + It is a time of mirth;<br /> +<a name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 108</span>For +never since the world began<br /> +More joyful news was brought to man<br /> + Than at our Saviour’s +birth.</p> +<p class="poetry">But such have been these times of late,<br /> +That holidays are out of date,<br /> + And holiness to boot;<br /> +For they that do despise and scorn<br /> +To keep the day that Christ was born,<br /> + Want holiness no doubt.</p> +<p class="poetry">That Parliament that took away<br /> +The observation of that day,<br /> + We know it was not free;<br /> +For if it had, such acts as those<br /> +Had ne’er been seen in verse or prose,<br /> + You may conclude with me.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Twas that Assembly did maintain<br /> +’Twas law to kill their sovereign,<br /> + Who by that law must die;<br /> +Though God’s anointed ones are such,<br /> +Which subjects should not dare to touch,<br /> + Much less to crucify.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Twas that which turn’d our bishops +out<br /> +Of house and home, both branch and root,<br /> + And gave no reason why;<br /> +And all our clergy did expel,<br /> +That would not do like that rebel—<br /> + This no man can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">It was that Parliament that took<br /> +Out of our churches our <i>Service book</i>,<br /> + A book without compare;<br /> +<a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 109</span>And made +God’s house (to all our griefs),<br /> +That house of prayer, a den of thiefs’<br /> + Both here and everywhere.</p> +<p class="poetry">They had no head for many years,<br /> +Nor heart (I mean the House of Peers),<br /> + And yet it did not die;<br /> +Of these long since it was bereft,<br /> +And nothing but the tail was left,<br /> + You know as well as I.</p> +<p class="poetry">And in this tail was a tongue,<br /> +Lenthal <a name="citation42"></a><a href="#footnote42" +class="citation">[42]</a> I mean, whose fame hath rung<br /> + In country and in city;<br /> +Not for his worth or eloquence,<br /> +But for a rebel to his prince,<br /> + And neither wise nor witty.</p> +<p class="poetry">This Speaker’s words must needs be +wind,<br /> +Since they proceeded from behind;<br /> + Besides, you way remember,<br /> +From thence no act could be discreet,<br /> +Nor could the sense o’ the House be sweet<br /> + Where Atkins was a member.</p> +<p class="poetry">This tale’s now done, the Speaker’s +dumb,<br /> +Thanks to the trumpet and the drum;<br /> + And now I hope to see<br /> +A Parliament that will restore<br /> +All things that were undone before,<br /> + That we may Christians be.</p> +<h3><a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 110</span>A +FREE PARLIAMENT LITANY.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the King’s Pamphlets, +British Museum.—(A. D. 1655.)<br /> +To the tune of “An Old Courtier of the +Queen’s.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">More</span> +ballads!—here’s a spick and span new supplication,<br +/> +By order of a Committee for the Reformation,<br /> +To be read in all churches and chapels of this nation,<br /> +Upon pain of slavery and sequestration.<br /> + From fools and knaves in our Parliament free,<br /> + + +<i>Libera nos</i>, <i>Domine</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">From those that ha’ more religion and +less conscience than their fellows;<br /> +From a representative that’s fearful and zealous;<br /> +From a starting jadish people that is troubled with the +yellows,<br /> +And a priest that blows the coal (a crack in his bellows);<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From shepherds that lead their flocks into the +briars,<br /> +And then fleece ’em; from vow-breakers and king-tryers;<br +/> +Of Church and Crown lands, from both sellers and buyers;<br /> +From the children of him that is the father of liars;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From the doctrine and discipline of <i>now and +anon</i>,<br /> +Preserve us and our wives from John T. and Saint John,<br /> +<a name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 111</span>Like +master like man, every way but one,—<br /> +The master has a large conscience, and the man has none;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From major-generals, army officers, and that +phanatique crew;<br /> +From the parboil’d pimp Scot, and from Good-face the +Jew;<br /> +From old Mildmay, that in Cheapside mistook his queu,<br /> +And from him that won’t pledge—Give the devil his +due;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From long-winded speeches, and not a wise +word;<br /> +From a gospel ministry settled by the sword;<br /> +From the act of a Rump, that stinks when ’tis +stirr’d;<br /> +From a knight of the post, and a cobbling lord;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From all the rich people that ha’ made us +poor;<br /> +From a Speaker that creeps to the House by a back-door;<br /> +From that badger, Robinson (that limps and bites sore);<br /> +And that dog in a doublet, Arthur—that will do so no +more;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From a certain sly knave with a beastly +name;<br /> +From a Parliament that’s wild, and a people that’s +tame;<br /> +<a name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 112</span>From +Skippon, Titchbourne, Ireton,—and another of the same;<br +/> +From a dung-hill cock, and a hen of the game;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From all those that sat in the High Court of +Justice;<br /> +From usurpers that style themselves the people’s +trustees;<br /> +From an old Rump, in which neither profit nor gust is,<br /> +And from the recovery of that which now in the dust is;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From a backsliding saint that pretend t’ +acquiesce;<br /> +From crossing of proverbs (let ’um hang that confess);<br +/> +From a sniveling cause, in a pontificall dress,<br /> +And two lawyers, with the devil and his dam in a mess;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From those that trouble the waters to mend the +fishing,<br /> +And fight the Lord’s battles under the devil’s +commission,<br /> +Such as eat up the nation, whilst the government’s +a-dishing;<br /> +And from a people when it should be doing, stands wishing;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +113</span>From an everlasting mock-parliament—and from +<i>none</i>;<br /> +From Strafford’s old friends—Harry, Jack, and +John;<br /> +From our solicitor’s wolf-law deliver our King’s +son;<br /> +And from the resurrection of the Rump that is dead and gone;<br +/> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From foreign invasion and commotions at +home;<br /> +From our present distraction, and from work to come;<br /> +From the same hand again Smectymnus, or the bum,<br /> +And from taking Geneva in our way to Rome;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From a hundred thousand pound tax to keep +knaves by the score<br /> +(But it is well given to these that turn’d those out of +door);<br /> +From undoing ourselves in plaistering old sores;<br /> +He that set them a-work, let him pay their scores;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From saints and tender consciences in buff;<br +/> +From Mounson in a foam, and Haslerig in a huff;<br /> +From both men and women that think they never have enough;<br /> +And from a fool’s head that looks through a chain and a +duff;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +114</span>From those that would divide the gen’ral and the +city;<br /> +From Harry Martin’s girl, that was neither sweet nor +pretty;<br /> +From a faction that has neither brain nor pity:<br /> +From the mercy of a phanatique committee;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Preserve us, good Heaven, from entrusting +those<br /> +That ha’ much to get and little to lose;<br /> +That murther’d the father, and the son would depose<br /> +(Sure they can’t be our friends that are their +country’s foes);<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From Bradshaw’s presumption, and from +Hoyle’s despairs;<br /> +From rotten members, blind guides, preaching aldermen, and false +may’rs;<br /> +From long knives, long ears, long parliaments, and long +pray’rs;<br /> +In mercy to this nation—Deliver us and our heirs;<br /> + + +From fools and knaves, etc.</p> +<h3>THE MOCK SONG.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By T. J. With a reply by +Alex. Brome.—(A.D. 1657.)</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Hold</span>, hold, quaff no +more,<br /> + But restore<br /> +If you can what you’ve lost by your drinking:<br /> + <a name="page115"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 115</span>Three kingdoms and crowns,<br /> + With their cities and towns,<br /> + While the King and his progeny’s sinking.<br +/> +The studs in your cheeks have obscured his star, boys,<br /> +Your drinking miscarriages in the late war, boys,<br /> +Have brought his prerogative now to the war, boys.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Throw, throw down the +glass!<br /> + He’s an ass<br /> + That extracts all his worth from Canary;<br /> + That valour will shrink<br /> + That’s only good in +drink;<br /> + ’Twas the cup made the camp to miscarry.<br /> +You thought in the world there’s no power could tame ye,<br +/> +You tippled and whored till the foe overcame ye;<br /> +God’s nigs and Ne’er stir, sirs, has vanquish’d +God damn me.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Fly, fly from the coast,<br +/> + Or you’re lost,<br /> + And the water will run where the drink went;<br /> + From hence you must slink,<br /> + If you have no chink,<br /> + ’Tis the course of the royal delinquent;<br /> +You love to see beer-bowls turn’d over the thumb well,<br +/> +You like three fair gamesters, four dice, and a drum well,<br /> +But you’d as lief see the devil as Fairfax or Cromwell.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Drink, drink not the +round,<br /> + You’ll be drown’d<br +/> + In the source of your sack and your sonnets;<br /> + <a name="page116"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 116</span>Try once more your fate<br /> + For the King against the State,<br +/> + And go barter your beavers for bonnets.<br /> +You see how they’re charm’d by the King’s +enchanters,<br /> +And therefore pack hence to Virginia for planters,<br /> +For an act and two red-coats will rout all the ranters.</p> +<h3>THE ANSWER.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By Alex. Brome.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Stay</span>, stay, prate no more,<br /> + Lest thy brain, like thy purse, run the score,<br /> + Though thou +strain’st it;<br /> + Those are traitors in grain<br /> + That of sack do complain,<br /> + And rail by its +own power against it.<br /> +Those kingdoms and crowns which your poetry pities,<br /> +Are fall’n by the pride and hypocrisy of cities,<br /> +And not by those brains that love sack and good ditties;<br /> +The K. and his progeny had kept them from sinking,<br /> +Had they had no worse foes than the lads that love drinking,<br +/> +We that tipple ha’ no leisure for plotting or thinking.</p> +<p class="poetry"> He is an ass<br /> + That doth throw down himself with a glass<br /> + <a +name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 117</span>Of +Canary;<br /> + He that’s quiet will think<br /> + Much the better of drink,<br /> + ’Cause the +cups made the camp to miscarry.<br /> +You whore while we tipple, and there, my friend, you lie,<br /> +Your sports did determine in the month of July;<br /> +There’s less fraud in plain damme than your sly by my +truly;<br /> +’Tis sack makes our bloods both purer and warmer,<br /> +We need not your priest or the feminine charmer,<br /> +For a bowl of Canary’s a whole suit of armour.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Hold, hold, not so fast,<br +/> + Tipple on, for there is no such haste<br /> + To be going;<br +/> + We drowning may fear,<br /> + But your end will be there<br /> + Where there is +neither swimming nor rowing.<br /> +We were gamesters alike, and our stakes were both down, boys,<br +/> +But Fortune did favour you, being her own, boys;<br /> +And who would not venture a cast for a crown, boys?<br /> +Since we wear the right colours, he the worst of our foes is<br +/> +That goes to traduce, and fondly supposes<br /> +That Cromwell’s an enemy to sack and red noses.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Then, then, quaff it +round,<br /> + No deceit in a brimmer is found;<br /> + Here’s no +swearing:<br /> + Beer and ale makes you prate<br /> + Of the Church and the State,<br /> + Wanting other +discourse worth the hearing.<br /> +<a name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 118</span>This +strumpet your muse is, to ballad or flatter,<br /> +Or rail, and your betters with froth to bespatter,<br /> +And your talk’s all dismals and gunpowder matter;<br /> +But we, while old sack does divinely inspire us,<br /> +Are active to do what our rulers require us,<br /> +And attempt such exploits as the world shall admire us.</p> +<h3>AS CLOSE AS A GOOSE.</h3> +<p>By Samuel Butler.—(A.D. 1657.) This ballad +ridicules the tender of the Crown of England to Oliver Cromwell +by Alderman Pack, M.P. for London.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">As</span> close as a +goose<br /> +Sat the Parliament-house,<br /> + To hatch the royal gull;<br /> +After much fiddle-faddle<br /> +The egg proved addle,<br /> + And Oliver came forth <i>Noll</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet old Queen Madge, <a +name="citation43"></a><a href="#footnote43" +class="citation">[43]</a><br /> +Though things do not fadge,<br /> + Will serve to be queen of a May-pole;<br /> +Two Princes of Wales, <a name="citation44"></a><a +href="#footnote44" class="citation">[44]</a><br /> +For Whitsun-ales,<br /> + And her grace, Maid Marion Claypole. <a +name="citation45"></a><a href="#footnote45" +class="citation">[45]</a></p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +119</span>In a robe of cow hide<br /> +Sat yeasty Pride, <a name="citation46"></a><a href="#footnote46" +class="citation">[46]</a><br /> + With his dagger and his sling;<br /> +He was the pertinenst peer<br /> +Of all that were there,<br /> + T’ advise with such a king.</p> +<p class="poetry">A great philosopher<br /> +Had a goose for his lover<br /> + That follow’d him day and night:<br /> +If it be a true story,<br /> +Or but an allegory,<br /> + It may be both ways right.</p> +<p class="poetry">Strickland <a name="citation47"></a><a +href="#footnote47" class="citation">[47]</a> and his son,<br /> +Both cast into one,<br /> + Were meant for a single baron;<br /> +But when they came to sit,<br /> +There was not wit<br /> + Enough in them both to serve for one.</p> +<p class="poetry">Wherefore ’twas thought good<br /> +To add Honeywood,<br /> + But when they came to trial<br /> +Each one proved a fool,<br /> +Yet three knaves in the whole,<br /> + And that made up a <i>pair-royal</i>.</p> +<h3><a name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 120</span>THE +PRISONERS.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">Written when O. C. attempted to be +King. By Alex. Brome.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span>, a brimmer (my +bullies), drink whole ones or nothing,<br /> + Now healths have been voted down;<br /> +’Tis sack that can heat us, we care not for clothing,<br /> + A gallon’s as warm as a gown;<br /> + ’Cause the +Parliament sees<br /> + Nor the former +nor these<br /> +Could engage us to drink their health,<br /> + They may vote +that we shall<br /> + Drink no healths +at all,<br /> +Not to King nor to Commonwealth,<br /> +So that now we must venture to drink ’em by stealth.</p> +<p class="poetry">But we’ve found out a way that’s +beyond all their thinking;<br /> + To keep up good fellowship still,<br /> +We’ll drink their destruction that would destroy +drinking,—<br /> + Let ’um vote <i>that</i> a health if they +will.<br /> + Those men that +did fight,<br /> + And did pray day +and night<br /> +For the Parliament and its attendant,<br /> + Did make all +that bustle<br /> + The King out to +justle,<br /> +And bring in the Independent,<br /> +But now we all clearly see what was the end on’t.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +121</span>Now their idols thrown down with their sooter-kin +also,<br /> + About which they did make such a pother;<br /> +And tho’ their contrivance did make one thing to fall +so,<br /> + We have drank ourselves into another;<br /> + And now (my +lads) we<br /> + May still +Cavaliers be,<br /> +In spite of the Committee’s frown;<br /> + We will drink +and we’ll sing,<br /> + And each health +to our King<br /> +Shall be loyally drunk in the ‘<i>Crown</i>,’<br /> +Which shall be the standard in every town.</p> +<p class="poetry">Their politick would-be’s do but show +themselves asses<br /> + That other men’s calling invade;<br /> +We only converse with pots and with glasses,<br /> + Let the rulers alone with their trade;<br /> + The Lyon of the +Tower<br /> + There estates +does devour,<br /> +Without showing law for’t or reason;<br /> + Into prison we +get<br /> + For the crime +called debt,<br /> +Where our bodies and brains we do season,<br /> +And that is ne’er taken for murder or treason.</p> +<p class="poetry">Where our ditties still be, Give’s more +drink, give’s more drink, boys.<br /> + Let those that are frugal take care;<br /> +Our gaolers and we will live by our chink, boys,<br /> + While our creditors live by the air;<br /> + Here we live at +our ease,<br /> + And get craft +and grease,<br /> +<a name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +122</span>’Till we’ve merrily spent all our store;<br +/> + Then, as drink +brought us in,<br /> + ’Twill +redeem us agen;<br /> +We got in because we were poor,<br /> +And swear ourselves out on the very same score.</p> +<h3>THE PROTECTING BREWER.</h3> +<p>This was apparently written as a parody on the Brewer, in +Pills to purge Melancholy, 1682. The original was too +complimentary to Oliver Cromwell, asserted by the Royalists to +have been a brewer in early life, to suit the taste of the +Cavaliers, and hence the alteration made in it. Such +compliments as the following must have proceeded from a writer of +the opposite party.</p> +<p class="poetry">Some Christian kings began to quake,<br /> +And said With the brewer no quarrel we’ll make,<br /> +We’ll let him alone; as he brews let him bake;<br /> + + +Which nobody can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">He had a strong and a very stout heart,<br /> +And thought to be made an Emperor for’t,<br /> + + +* * * * *<br /> + + +Which nobody can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">A <span class="smcap">Brewer</span> may be a +burgess grave,<br /> +And carry the matter so fine and so brave,<br /> +That he the better may play the knave,<br /> + + +Which nobody can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">A brewer may put on a Nabal face,<br /> +And march to the wars with such a grace<br /> +That he may get a captain’s place;<br /> + + +Which nobody, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">A brewer may speak so wondrous well<br /> +That he may rise (strange things to tell),<br /> +And so be made a colonel;<br /> + + +Which nobody, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +123</span>A brewer may make his foes to flee,<br /> +And rise his fortunes, so that he<br /> +Lieutenant-general may be;<br /> + + +Which nobody, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">A brewer may be all in all,<br /> +And raise his powers, both great and small,<br /> +That he may be a lord general;<br /> + + +Which nobody, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">A brewer may be like a fox in a cub,<br /> +And teach a lecture out of a tub,<br /> +And give the wicked world a rub;<br /> + + +Which nobody, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">A brewer, by’s excise and rate,<br /> +Will promise his army he knows what,<br /> +And set upon the college-gate;<br /> + + +Which nobody, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Methinks I hear one say to me,<br /> +Pray why may not a brewer be<br /> +Lord Chancellor o’ the University?<br /> + + +Which nobody, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">A brewer may be as bold as Hector,<br /> +When as he had drank his cup o’ Nectar,<br /> +And a brewer may be a Lord Protector;<br /> + + +Which nobody, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now here remains the strangest thing,<br /> +How this brewer about his liquor did bring<br /> +To be an emperor or a king;<br /> + + +Which nobody, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +124</span>A brewer may do what he will,<br /> +And rob the Church and State, to sell<br /> +His soul unto the devil in hell;<br /> + + +Which nobody, etc.</p> +<h3>THE ARRAIGNMENT OF THE DEVIL FOR STEALING AWAY PRESIDENT +BRADSHAW.</h3> +<p>John Bradshaw, who had presided over the court of justice +which condemned Charles I. to the scaffold, and who by his +extreme republican principles had rendered himself obnoxious to +Cromwell, began again to be distinguished in public affairs after +the Protector’s death, and was elected President of the +Council of State. He did not live long to enjoy this +honour, but died, according to some authorities, on the 31st +October, 1659. Chalmers places his death on the 22nd of +November in that year.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “Well-a-day, +well-a-day.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">If</span> you’ll hear +news that’s ill,<br /> + Gentlemen, gentlemen,<br /> +Against the devil, I will<br /> + Be the relator;<br /> +Arraigned he must be,<br /> +For that feloniously,<br /> +’Thout due solemnity,<br /> + He took a traitor.</p> +<p class="poetry">John Bradshaw was his name,<br /> + How it stinks! how it stinks!<br /> +Who’ll make with blacker fame<br /> + Pilate unknown.<br /> +<a name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 125</span>This +worse than worse of things<br /> +Condemn’d the best of kings,<br /> +And, what more guilt yet brings,<br /> + Knew ’twas his own.</p> +<p class="poetry">Virtue in Charles did seem<br /> + Eagerly, eagerly,<br /> +And villainy in him<br /> + To vye for glory.<br /> +Majesty so compleat<br /> +And impudence so great<br /> +Till that time never met:—<br /> + But to my story.</p> +<p class="poetry">Accusers there will be,<br /> + Bitter ones, bitter ones,<br /> +More than one, two, or three,<br /> + All full of spight;<br /> +Hangman and tree so tall,<br /> +Bridge, tower, and city-wall,<br /> +Kite and crow, which were all<br /> + Robb’d of their right.</p> +<p class="poetry">But judges none are fit,<br /> + Shame it is, shame it is,<br /> +That twice seven years did sit<br /> + To give hemp-string dome;<br /> +The friend they would befriend,<br /> +That he might in the end<br /> +To them like favour lend,<br /> + In his own kingdome.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sword-men, it must be you,<br /> + Boldly to’t, boldly to’t,<br /> +<a name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 126</span>Must +give the diver his due;<br /> + Do it not faintly,<br /> +But as you raised by spell<br /> +Last Parliament from hell,<br /> +And it again did quell<br /> + Omnipotently.</p> +<p class="poetry">The charge they wisely frame<br /> + (On with it, on with it)<br /> +In that yet unknown name<br /> + Of supream power;<br /> +While six weeks hence by vote<br /> +Shall be or it shall not,<br /> +When Monk’s to London got <a name="citation48"></a><a +href="#footnote48" class="citation">[48]</a><br /> + In a good hour.</p> +<p class="poetry">But twelve good men and true,<br /> + Caveliers, Caveliers,<br /> +He excepts against you;<br /> + Justice he fears.<br /> +From bar and pulpit hee<br /> +Craves such as do for fee<br /> +Serve all turns, for he’l be<br /> + Try’d by his peers.</p> +<p class="poetry">Satan, y’ are guilty found<br /> + By your peers, by your peers,<br /> +And must die above ground!<br /> + Look for no pity;<br /> +Some of our ministry,<br /> +Whose spir’ts with yours comply,<br /> +<a name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 127</span>As Owen, +Caryl, Nye, <a name="citation49"></a><a href="#footnote49" +class="citation">[49]</a><br /> + For death shall fit ’ee.</p> +<p class="poetry">Dread judges, mine own limb<br /> + I but took, I but took,<br /> +I was forced without him<br /> + To use a crutch;<br /> +Some of the robe can tell<br /> +How to supply full well<br /> +His place here, but in hell<br /> + I had none such.</p> +<p class="poetry">Divel, you are an asse,<br /> + Plain it is, plain it is,<br /> +And weakly plead the case;<br /> + Your wits are lost.<br /> +Some lawyers will outdo’t,<br /> +When shortly they come to’t;<br /> +Your craft, our gold to boot,<br /> + They have ingross’d.</p> +<p class="poetry">Should all men take their right,<br /> + Well-a-day, well-a-day,<br /> +We were in a sad plight,<br /> + O’ th’ holy party!<br /> +<a name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 128</span>Such +practise hath a scent<br /> +Of kingly government,<br /> +Against it we are bent,<br /> + Out of home char’ty.</p> +<p class="poetry">But if I die, who am<br /> + King of hell, King of hell,<br /> +You will not quench its flame,<br /> + But find it worse:<br /> +Confused anarchy<br /> +Will a new torment be;<br /> +Ne’r did these kingdoms three<br /> + Feel such a curse.</p> +<p class="poetry">To our promotion, sir,<br /> + There as here, there as here,<br /> +Through some confused stir<br /> + Doth the high-road lie;<br /> +In hell we need not fear<br /> +Nor King nor Cavalier,<br /> +Who then shall dominere<br /> + But we the godly?</p> +<p class="poetry">Truth, then, sirs, which of old<br /> + Was my shame, was my shame,<br /> +Shall now to yours be told:<br /> + You caused his death;<br /> +The house being broken by<br /> +Yourselves (there’s burglary),<br /> +Wrath enter’d forcibly,<br /> + And stopt his breath.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sir, as our president,<br /> + Taught by you, taught by you,<br /> +’Gainst the King away went<br /> + Most strange and new;<br /> +<a name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 129</span>Charging +him with the guilt<br /> +Of all the blond we spilt,<br /> +With swords up to the hilt,<br /> + So we’le serve you.</p> +<p class="poetry">For mercy then I call,<br /> + Good my lords, good my lords,<br /> +And traytors I’le leave all<br /> + Duly to end it;<br /> +Sir, sir, ’tis frivolous,<br /> +As well for you as us,<br /> +To beg for mercy thus,—<br /> + Our crimes transcend it.</p> +<p class="poetry">You must die out of hand,<br /> + Satanas, Satanas:<br /> +This our decree shall stand<br /> + Without controll;<br /> +And we for you will pray,<br /> +Because the Scriptures say,<br /> +When some men curse you, they<br /> + Curse their own soul.</p> +<p class="poetry">The fiend to Tiburn’s gone,<br /> + There to die, there to die;<br /> +Black is the north, anon<br /> + Great storms will be;<br /> +Therefore together now<br /> +I leave him and th’ gallow,—<br /> +So, newes-man, take ’em now,<br /> + Soon they’l take thee.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Finis, Fustis, Funis.</p> +<h3><a name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 130</span>A +NEW BALLAD TO AN OLD TUNE,—TOM OF BEDLAM.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">January 17th, 1659.—From the +King’s Ballads, British Museum.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Make</span> room for an +honest red-coat<br /> + (And that you’ll say’s a wonder),<br /> + The gun and the blade<br /> + Are the tools, and his trade<br /> + Is, for <i>pay</i>, to <i>kill</i> and +<i>plunder</i>.<br /> + Then away with the laws,<br /> + And the “Good old +Cause;”<br /> + Ne’er talk of the Rump or the Charter;<br /> + ’Tis the cash does the +feat,<br /> + All the rest’s but a +cheat,<br /> +Without <i>that</i> there’s no faith nor quarter.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis the mark of our coin “<i>God +with us</i>,”<br /> + And the grace of the Lord goes along +with’t.<br /> + When the <i>Georges</i> are +flown<br /> + Then the Cause goes down,<br /> + For the Lord has departed from it.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">For Rome, or for Geneva,<br /> + For the table or the altar,<br /> + This spawn of a vote,<br /> + He cares not a groat—<br /> + For the <i>pence</i> he’s your dog in a +halter,<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +131</span>Tho’ the name of King or Bishop<br /> + To nostrils pure may be loathsome,<br /> + Yet many there are<br /> + That agree with the +May’r,<br /> + That their lands are wondrous toothsome.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">When our masters are poor we leave +’em,<br /> + ’Tis the Golden Calf we bow to;<br /> + We kill and we slay<br /> + Not for conscience, but pay;<br /> + Give us <i>that</i>, we’ll fight for you +too.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Twas <i>that</i> first turn’d the +King out;<br /> + The Lords next; then the Commons:<br /> + ’Twas that kept up Noll,<br +/> + Till the Devil fetch’d his +soul,<br /> + And then it set the <i>Rump</i> on’s.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Drunken Dick was a lame Protector,<br /> + And Fleetwood a back-slider;<br /> + These we served as the rest,<br /> + But the City’s the beast<br +/> + That will never cast her rider.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">When the Mayor holds the stirrup<br /> + And the Shrieves cry, God save your honours;<br /> + Then ’tis but a jump<br /> + And up goes the Rump,<br /> + That will spur to the Devil upon us.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +132</span>And now for fling at your thimbles,<br /> + Your bodkins, rings, and whistles;<br /> + In truck for your toys<br /> + We’ll fit you with boys<br +/> + (’Tis the doctrine of Hugh’s +<i>Epistles</i>).<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">When your plate is gone, and your jewels,<br /> + You must be next entreated<br /> + To part with your bags,<br /> + And to strip you to rags,<br /> + And yet not think you’re cheated.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The truth is, the town deserves it,<br /> + ’Tis a brainless, heartless monster:<br /> + At a club they may bawl,<br /> + Or declare at their hall,<br /> + And yet at a push not one stir.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sir Arthur vow’d he’ll treat +’em<br /> + Far worse than the men of Chester;<br /> + He’s bold now they’re +cow’d,<br /> + But he was nothing so loud<br /> + When he lay in the ditch at Lester.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Lord has left John Lambert,<br /> + And the spirit, Feak’s anointed;<br /> + But why, O Lord,<br /> + Hast thou sheath’d thy +sword?<br /> + Lo! thy saints are disappointed.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +133</span>Though Sir Henry be departed,<br /> + Sir John makes good the place now;<br /> + And to help out the work<br /> + Of the glorious Kirk,<br /> + Our brethren march apace too.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Whilst divines and statesmen wrangle,<br /> + Let the Rump-ridden nation bite on’t;<br /> + There are none but we<br /> + That are sure to go free,<br /> + For the soldier’s still in the right +on’t.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">If our masters won’t supply us<br /> + With money, food, and clothing,<br /> + Let the State look to’t,<br +/> + We’ll find one that will +do’t,<br /> + Let him live—we will not damn.<br /> + + +Then away, etc.</p> +<h3>SAINT GEORGE AND THE DRAGON,<br /> +ANGLICE MERCURIUS POETICUS.</h3> +<p>“The following ballad,” says Mr Wright in the +Political Ballads of the Commonwealth, published for the Percy +Society, “was written on the occasion of the overthrow of +the Rump by Monck. He arrived in London on the third of +February, and professed himself a determined supporter of the +party then uppermost. On the ninth and tenth he executed +their orders against the city; but suddenly on the eleventh he +joined the city and the Presbyterian party, and demanded the +readmission <a name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +134</span>of the members who were secluded formerly from the Long +Parliament. This measure put an end to the reign of the +Rump, and immediately afterwards the Parliament dissolved itself, +and a new one was called.—(February 28th, +1659.)”—All the notes to this Ballad are from the pen +of Mr Wright.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “The Old +Courtier of the Queen’s,” etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">News</span>! news! +here’s the occurrences and a new Mercurius,<br /> +A dialogue betwixt Haselrigg the baffled and Arthur the +furious;<br /> +With Ireton’s <a name="citation50"></a><a +href="#footnote50" class="citation">[50]</a> readings upon +legitimate and spurious,<br /> +Proving that a saint may be the son of a whore, for the +satisfaction of the curious.<br /> + From a Rump +insatiate as the sea,<br /> + Libera nos, +Domine.</p> +<p class="poetry">Here’s the true reason of the +citie’s infatuation,<br /> +Ireton has made it drunk with the cup of abomination;<br /> +That is, the cup of the whore, after the Geneva +Interpretation,<br /> +Which with the juyce of Titchburn’s grapes <a +name="citation51"></a><a href="#footnote51" +class="citation">[51]</a> must needs cause intoxication.<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +135</span>Here’s the Whipper whipt by a friend to George, +that whipp’d Jack, <a name="citation52"></a><a +href="#footnote52" class="citation">[52]</a> that whipp’d +the breech,<br /> +That whipp’d the nation as long as it could stand over +it—after which<br /> +It was itself re-jerk’d by the sage author of this +speech:<br /> +“Methinks a Rump should go as well with a Scotch spur as +with a switch.”<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">This Rump hath many a rotten and unruly +member;<br /> +“Give the generall the oath!” cries one (but his +conscience being a little tender);<br /> +<a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +136</span>“I’ll abjure you with a pestilence!” +quoth George, “and make you remember<br /> +The ’leaventh of February <a name="citation53"></a><a +href="#footnote53" class="citation">[53]</a> longer than the +fifth of November!”<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With that, Monk leaves (in Rump assembled) the +three estates,<br /> +But oh! how the citizens hugg’d him for breaking down their +gates,<br /> +For tearing up their posts and chaynes, and for clapping up their +mates <a name="citation54"></a><a href="#footnote54" +class="citation">[54]</a><br /> +(When they saw that he brought them plasters for their broken +pates).<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">In truth this ruffle put the town in great +disorder,<br /> +Some knaves (in office) smiled, expecting ’twould go +furder;<br /> +But at the last, “My life on’t! George is no +Rumper,” said the Recorder,<br /> +“For there never was either honest man or monk of that +order.”<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +137</span>And so it proved; for, “Gentlemen,” says +the general, “I’ll make you amends;<br /> +Our greeting was a little untoward, but we’ll part +friends;<br /> +A little time shall show you which way my design tends,<br /> +And that, besides the good of Church and State, I have no other +ends.”<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">His Excellence had no sooner pass’d this +declaration and promise,<br /> +But in steps Secretary Scot, the Rump’s man Thomas,<br /> +With Luke, their lame evangelist (the Devil keep ’um from +us!) <a name="citation55"></a><a href="#footnote55" +class="citation">[55]</a><br /> +To shew Monk what precious members of Church and State the Bumm +has.<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">And now comes the supplication of the members +under the rod:<br /> +“Nay, my Lord!” cryes the brewer’s clerk; +“good, my Lord, for the love of God!<br /> +Consider yourself, us, and this poor nation, and that tyrant +abroad;<br /> +Don’t leave us:”—but George gave him a shrugg +instead of a nodd.<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +138</span>This mortal silence was followed with a most hideous +noyse,<br /> +Of free Parliament bells and Rump-confounding boyes,<br /> +Crying, “Cut the rogues! singe their tayles!” when, +with a low voyce,<br /> +“Fire and sword! by this light,” cryes Tom, +“Lets look to our toyes!”<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Never were wretched members in so sad a +plight;<br /> +Some were broyl’d, some toasted, others burnt outright; <a +name="citation56"></a><a href="#footnote56" +class="citation">[56]</a><br /> +Nay against Rumps so pittylesse was their rage and spite,<br /> +That not a citizen would kisse his wife that night.<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +139</span>By this time death and hell appear’d in the +ghastly looks<br /> +Of Scot and Robinson (those legislative rooks);<br /> +And it must needs put the Rump most damnably off the hooks<br /> +To see that when God has sent meat the Devil should send +cooks.<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">But Providence, their old friend, brought these +saints off at last,<br /> +And through the pikes and the flames undismember’d they +past,<br /> +Although (God wet) with many struglings and much hast,—<br +/> +For, members, or no members, was but a measuring cast.<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Being come to Whitehall, there’s the +dismal mone,<br /> +“Let Monk be damn’d!” cries Arthur in a +terrible tone <a name="citation57"></a><a href="#footnote57" +class="citation">[57]</a>—<br /> +“That traytor, and those cuckoldy rogues that set him +on!”<br /> +(But tho’ the knight spits blood, ’tis observed that +he draws none.)<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +140</span>“The plague bawle you!” cries Harry Martin, +“you have brought us to this condition, <a +name="citation58"></a><a href="#footnote58" +class="citation">[58]</a><br /> +You must be canting and be plagued, with your Barebones petition, +<a name="citation59"></a><a href="#footnote59" +class="citation">[59]</a><br /> +And take in that bull-headed, splay-footed member of the +circumcision,<br /> +That bacon-faced Jew, Corbet, <a name="citation60"></a><a +href="#footnote60" class="citation">[60]</a> that son of +perdition!”<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +141</span>Then in steps driv’ling Mounson to take up the +squabble,<br /> +That lord which first taught the use of the woodden dagger and +ladle: <a name="citation61"></a><a href="#footnote61" +class="citation">[61]</a><br /> +He that out-does Jack Pudding <a name="citation62"></a><a +href="#footnote62" class="citation">[62]</a> at a custard or a +caudle,<br /> +And were the best foole in Europe but that he wants a bauble.<br +/> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +142</span>More was said to little purpose,—the next news +is, a declaration<br /> +From the Rump, for a free state according to the covenant of the +nation,<br /> +And a free Parliament under oath and qualification,<br /> +Where none shall be elect but members of reprobation.<br /> + From a Rump, +&c.</p> +<p class="poetry">Here’s the tail firk’d, a piece +acted lately with great applause,<br /> +With a plea for the prerogative breech and the Good old Cause,<br +/> +Proving that Rumps and members are antienter than laws,<br /> +And that a bumme divided is never the worse for the flawes.<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">But all things have their period and fate,<br +/> +An Act of Parliament dissolves a Rump of state,<br /> +Members grow weak, and tayles themselves run out of date,<br /> +And yet thou shalt not dye (dear breech), thy fame I’ll +celebrate.<br /> + From a Rump, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +143</span>Here lies a pack of saints that did their souls and +country sell<br /> +For dirt, the Devil was their good lord, him they served well;<br +/> +By his advice they stood and acted, and by his president they +fell<br /> +(Like Lucifer), making but one step betwixt heaven and hell.<br +/> + From a Rump +insatiate as the sea<br /> + Liberasti nos, +Domine.</p> +<h3>THE SECOND PART OF ST GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “To drive the +cold winter away.”<br /> +(March 7, 1659.)</p> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Now</span> the Rump is confounded<br /> + There’s an end of the Roundhead,<br /> +Who hath been such a bane to our nation;<br /> + He hath now play’d his part,<br /> + And’s gone out like a f—,<br /> +Together with his reformation;<br /> + For by his good favour<br /> + He hath left a bad savour;<br /> +But’s no matter, we’ll trust him no more.<br /> + Kings and queens may appear<br /> + Once again in our sphere,<br /> +Now the knaves are turn’d out of door,<br /> + And drive the cold winter away.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <a name="page144"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 144</span>Scot, Nevil, and Vane,<br /> + With the rest of that train,<br /> +Are into Oceana <a name="citation63"></a><a href="#footnote63" +class="citation">[63]</a> fled;<br /> + Sir Arthur the brave,<br /> + That’s as arrant a knave,<br /> +Has Harrington’s Rota in’s head; <a +name="citation64"></a><a href="#footnote64" +class="citation">[64]</a><br /> + But hee’s now full of cares<br /> + For his foals and his mares,<br /> +As when he was routed before;<br /> + But I think he despairs,<br /> + By his arms or his prayers,<br /> +To set up the Rump any more,<br /> + And drive the cold winter away.</p> +<p class="poetry"> I should never have +thought<br /> + That a monk could have wrought<br /> +Such a reformation so soon;<br /> + That House which of late<br /> + Was the jakes of our state<br /> +Will ere long be a house of renown.<br /> + How good wits did jump<br /> + In abusing the Rump,<br /> +Whilst the House was prest by the rabble;<br /> + <a name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +145</span>But our Hercules, Monk,<br /> + Though it grievously stunk,<br /> +Now hath cleansed that Augean stable,<br /> + And drive the cold winter away.</p> +<p class="poetry"> And now Mr Prynne <a +name="citation65"></a><a href="#footnote65" +class="citation">[65]</a><br /> + With the rest may come in,<br /> +And take their places again;<br /> + For the House is made sweet<br /> + For those members to meet,<br /> +Though part of the Rump yet remain;<br /> + Nor need they to fear,<br /> + Though his breeches be there,<br /> +Which were wrong’d both behind and before;<br /> + For he saith ’twas a chance,<br /> + And forgive him this once,<br /> +And he swears he will do so no more,<br /> + And drive the cold winter away.</p> +<p class="poetry"> ’Tis true there are +some<br /> + Who are still for the Bum;<br /> +Such tares will grow up with the wheat;<br /> + And there they will be, till a Parliament come<br /> + That can give them a total defeat.<br /> +But yet I am told<br /> + That the Rumpers do hold<br /> + That the saints may swim with the tyde;<br /> + <a name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +146</span>Nor can it be treason,<br /> + But Scripture and reason,<br /> +Still to close with the stronger side,<br /> + And drive the cold winter away.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Those lawyers o’ +th’ House—<br /> + As Baron Wild-goose, <a name="citation66"></a><a +href="#footnote66" class="citation">[66]</a><br /> +With Treason Hill, Whitlock, and Say—<br /> + Were the bane of our laws<br /> + And our Good old Cause,<br /> +And ’twere well if such were away.<br /> + Some more there are to blame,<br /> + Whom I care not to name,<br /> +That are men of the very same ranks;<br /> + ’Mongst whom there is one,<br /> + That to Devil Barebone<br /> +For his ugly petition gave thanks,<br /> + And drive the cold winter +away.</p> +<p class="poetry"> But I hope by this time<br /> + He’ll confess ’twas a crime<br /> +To abet such a damnable crew;<br /> + <a name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +147</span>Whose petition was drawn<br /> + By Alcoran Vane,<br /> +Or else by Corbet the Jew. <a name="citation67"></a><a +href="#footnote67" class="citation">[67]</a><br /> + By it you may know<br /> + What the Rump meant to do,<br /> +And what a religion to frame;<br /> + So ’twas time for St George<br /> + That Rump to disgorge,<br /> +And to send it from whence it first came;<br /> + Then drive the cold winter +away.</p> +<h3>A NEW-YEAR’S GIFT FOR THE RUMP.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">(January 1659–60.)—From +a broadside, vol. xv. in the King’s Pamphlets.</p> +<blockquote><p>“The condition of the State was thus: viz. +the Rump, after being disturbed by my Lord Lambert, was lately +returned to sit again. The officers of the army all forced +to yield. Lawson lies still in the river, and Monk is with +his army in Scotland. Only my Lord Lambert is not yet come +in to the Parliament, nor is it expected that he will without +being forced to it. The new Common Council of the city do +speak very high; and had sent to Monk their sword-bearer to +acquaint him with their desires for a free and full Parliament, +which is at present the desires, and the hopes, and the +expectations of all. Twenty-two of the old secluded members +having been at the House-door the last week to demand entrance, +but it was denied them; and it is believed that neither they nor +the people will be satisfied till the House be +filled.” Pepys’ Diary, January, 1660.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +148</span><span class="smcap">You</span> may have heard of the +politique snout,<br /> +Or a tale of a tub with the bottom out,<br /> +But scarce of a Parliament in a dirty clout,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Twas Atkins <a name="citation68"></a><a +href="#footnote68" class="citation">[68]</a> first served this +Rump in with mustard—<br /> +The sauce was a compound of courage and custard;<br /> +Sir Vane bless’d the creature, Noll snuffled and +bluster’d,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">The right was as then in old Oliver’s +nose;<br /> +But when the Devil of that did dispose,<br /> +It descended from thence to the Rump in the close,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">Nor is it likely there to stay long,<br /> +The retentive faculties being gone,<br /> +The juggle is stale, and money there’s none,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">The secluded members made a trial<br /> +To enter, but them the Rump did defy all<br /> +By the ordinance of self-denial,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">Our politique doctors do us teach<br /> +That a blood-sucking red-coat’s as good as a leech<br /> +To relieve the head, if applied to the breech,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">But never was such a worm as Vane;<br /> +When the State scour’d last, it voided him then,<br /> +Yet now he’s crept into the Rump again,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +149</span>Ludlow’s f— was a prophetique trump <a +name="citation69"></a><a href="#footnote69" +class="citation">[69]</a><br /> +(There never was anything so jump),<br /> +’Twas the very type of a vote of this Rump,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">They say ’tis good luck when a body +rises<br /> +With the rump upward, but he that advises<br /> +To live in that posture is none of the wisest,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">The reason is worse, though the rime be +untoward,<br /> +When things proceed with the wrong end forward;<br /> +But they say there’s sad news to the Rump from the +Nor’ward; <a name="citation70"></a><a href="#footnote70" +class="citation">[70]</a><br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis a wonderfull thing, the strength of +that part;<br /> +At a blast it will take you a team from a cart,<br /> +And blow a man’s head away with a f—,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">When our brains are sunck below the middle,<br +/> +And our consciences steer’d by the hey-down-diddle,<br /> +Then things will go round without a fiddle,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +150</span>You may order the city with hand-granado,<br /> +Or the generall with a bastonado,—<br /> +But no way for a Rump like a carbonado,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">To make us as famous in council as wars,<br /> +Here’s Lenthal a speaker for mine—<br /> +And Fleetwood is a man of Mars,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis pitty that Nedham’s <a +name="citation71"></a><a href="#footnote71" +class="citation">[71]</a> fall’n into disgrace,<br /> +For he orders a bum with a marvellous grace,<br /> +And ought to attend the Rump by his place,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet this in spight of all disasters,<br /> +Although he hath broken the heads of his masters,<br /> +’Tis still his profession to give ’em all +plasters,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Rump’s an old story, if well +understood;<br /> +’Tis a thing dress’d up in a Parliament’s +hood,<br /> +And like ’t, but the tayl stands where the head should,<br +/> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Twould make a man scratch where it does +not itch,<br /> +To see forty fools’ heads in one politique breech,<br /> +And that, hugging the nation, as the devil did the witch;<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page151"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +151</span>From rotten members preserve our wives!<br /> +From the mercy of a Rump, our estates and our lives!<br /> +For they must needs go whom the Devil drives,<br /> + Which no body can deny.</p> +<h3>A PROPER NEW BALLAD ON THE OLD PARLIAMENT;<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR,</span><br /> +THE SECOND PART OF KNAVE OUT OF DOORS.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of</p> +<blockquote><p>“Hei ho, my honey, my heart shall never +rue,<br /> +Four-and-twenty now for your mony, and yet a hard penny-worth +too.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: center">(Dec. 11th, 1659.)—From the +King’s Pamphlets, British Museum.</p> +<blockquote><p>“The events which gave occasion to the +following ballad,” says Mr T. Wright in his Political +Ballads, published for the Percy Society, “may be summed up +in a few words. After the death of Cromwell, his son +Richard was without opposition raised to the Protectorate; but +his weak and easy character gave an opening to the intrigues of +the Royalists, and the factious movement of the Republican +party. Fleetwood, who had been named commander-in-chief of +the army under the Protector, plotted to gain the chief power in +the State, and was joined by Lambert, Desborough, and +others. The Republicans were strengthened by the return of +Vane, Ludlow, and Bradshaw, to the Parliament called by the new +Protector. Lambert, the Protector’s brother-in-law, +was the ostensible head of a party, and seems to have aimed at +obtaining the power which had been held by Oliver. They +formed a council of officers, who met at Wallingford House; and +on the 20th April, 1659, having <a name="page152"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 152</span>gained the upper hand, and having +obtained the dissolution of the Parliament, they determined to +restore the old Long Parliament, which they said had only been +interrupted, and not legally dissolved, and to set aside the +Protector, who soon afterwards resigned. On the 21st April, +Lenthall, the old Speaker, with as many members of the Long +Parliament as could be brought together, met in the House, and +opened their session. The Parliament thus formed, as being +the fag-end of the old Long Parliament, obtained the name of the +Rump Parliament. Lambert’s hopes and aims were raised +by his success against Sir George Booth in the August following, +and jealousies soon arose between his party in the army and the +Rump. The Parliament would have dismissed him, and the +chief officers in the cabal with him, but Lambert with the army +in October hindered their free meeting, and took the management +of the government into the hands of a council of officers, whom +they called the Committee of Safety. Towards the latter end +of the year, the tide began to be changed in favour of the +Parliament, by the declaration of Monk in Scotland, Henry +Cromwell with the army in Ireland, and Hazelrigge and the +officers at Portsmouth, in favour of the freedom of the +Parliament. This ballad was written at the period when +Lambert’s party was uppermost.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The tune of “Hei ho, my honey,” may be found in +Playford’s edition of “The English Dancing +Master,” printed in 1686, but in no earlier edition of the +same work.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Good-morrow</span>, my +neighbours all, what news is this I heard tell<br /> +As I past through Westminster-hall by the House that’s neck +to hell?<br /> +They told John Lambert <a name="citation72"></a><a +href="#footnote72" class="citation">[72]</a> was there with his +bears, and deeply he swore<br /> +(As Cromwell had done before) those vermin should sit there no +more.<br /> + <a name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +153</span>Sing hi ho, Wil. Lenthall, <a name="citation73"></a><a +href="#footnote73" class="citation">[73]</a> who shall our +general be?<br /> + For the House to the Devil is sent all, and follow, +good faith, mun ye!<br /> + Sing hi ho, my honey, my heart shall never rue,<br +/> + Here’s all pickt ware for the money, and yet a +hard pennyworth too.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then, Muse, strike up a sonnet, come, piper, +and play us a spring,<br /> +For now I think upon it, these R’s turn’d out their +King;<br /> +But now is come about, that once again they must turn out,<br /> +And not without justice and reason, that every one home to his +prison.<br /> + Sing hi ho, Harry Martin, <a +name="citation74"></a><a href="#footnote74" +class="citation">[74]</a> a burgess of the bench,<br /> + There’s nothing here is certain, you must back +and leave your wench.<br /> + Sing, hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">He there with the buffle head is called lord +and of the same House,<br /> +Who (as I have heard it said) was chastised by his ladye +spouse;<br /> +<a name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 154</span>Because +he ran at sheep, she and her maid gave him the whip,<br /> +And beat his head so addle, you’d think he had a knock in +the cradle.<br /> + Sing hi ho, Lord Munson, <a name="citation75"></a><a +href="#footnote75" class="citation">[75]</a> you ha’ got a +park of the King’s;<br /> + One day you’l hang like a hounson, for this +and other things,<br /> + Sing hi, ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">It was by their master’s orders at first +together they met,<br /> +Whom piously they did murder, and since by their own they did +set.<br /> +The cause of this disaster is ’cause they were false to +their master;<br /> +Nor can they their gens-d’armes blame for serving them the +same.<br /> + Sing hi ho, Sir Arthur, <a name="citation76"></a><a +href="#footnote76" class="citation">[76]</a> no more in the House +you shall prate;<br /> + For all you kept such a quarter, <a +name="citation77"></a><a href="#footnote77" +class="citation">[77]</a> you are out of the councell of +state.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Old Noll once gave them a purge (forgetting +OCCIDISTI),<br /> +(The furies be his scourge!) so of the cure must he;<br /> +<a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 155</span>And yet +the drug he well knew it, for he gave it to Dr Huit; <a +name="citation78"></a><a href="#footnote78" +class="citation">[78]</a><br /> +Had he given it them, he had done it, and they had not +turn’d out his son yet;<br /> + Sing hi ho, brave Dick, Lenthall, and Lady Joane,<br +/> + Who did against lovalty kick is now for a +new-year’s gift gone.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">For had Old Noll been alive, he had +pull’d them out by the ears,<br /> +Or else had fired their hive, and kickt them down the staires;<br +/> +Because they were so bold to vex his righteous soul,<br /> +When he so deeply had swore that there they should never sit +more.<br /> + But hi ho, Noll’s dead, and stunk long since +above ground,<br /> + Though lapt in spices and lead that cost us many a +pound.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Indeed, brother burgess, your ling did never +stink half so bad,<br /> +Nor did your habberdin when it no pease-straw had;<br /> +Ye both were chose together, ’cause ye wore stuff cloaks in +hard weather,<br /> +And Cambridge needs would have a burgess fool and knave.<br /> + <a name="page156"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +156</span>Sing hi ho, John Lowry, <a name="citation79"></a><a +href="#footnote79" class="citation">[79]</a> concerning +habberdin,<br /> + No member spake before ye, yet you ne’re spoke +againe.<br /> + Sing hi, ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Ned Prideaux <a name="citation80"></a><a +href="#footnote80" class="citation">[80]</a> he went post to tell +the Protector the news,<br /> +That Fleetwood ruld the rost, having tane off Dicke’s +shoes.<br /> +And that he did believe, Lambert would him deceive<br /> +As he his brother had gull’d, and Cromwell Fairfax +bull’d.<br /> + Sing hi ho, the attorney was still at your +command;<br /> + In flames together burn ye, still dancing hand in +hand!<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Who’s that would hide his face, and his +neck from the collar pull?<br /> +He must appear in this place, if his cap be made of wool.<br /> +Who is it? with a vengeance! it is the good Lord St Johns, <a +name="citation81"></a><a href="#footnote81" +class="citation">[81]</a><br /> +Who made God’s house to fall, to build his own withall.<br +/> + <a name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +157</span>Sing hi ho, who comes there? who ’tis I must not +say;<br /> + But by his dark lanthorn, I sweare he’s as +good in the night as day.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Edge, brethren, room for one that looks as big +as the best;<br /> +’Tis pity to leave him alone, for he is as good as the +rest;<br /> +No picklock of the laws, he builds among the daws,<br /> +If you ha’ any more kings to murder, for a President look +no further.<br /> + Sing hi ho, John Bradshaw, in blood none further +engages;<br /> + The Devil from whom he had’s law, will shortly +pay him his wages.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Next, Peagoose Wild, <a +name="citation82"></a><a href="#footnote82" +class="citation">[82]</a> come in to show your weesle face,<br /> +And tell us Burley’s sin, whose blood bought you your +place;<br /> +When loyalty was a crime, he lived in a dangerous time,<br /> +Was forced to pay his neck to make you baron of the cheque.<br /> + <a name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +158</span>Sing hi ho, Jack Straw, we’ll put it in the +margent,<br /> + ’Twas not for justice or law that you were +made a sergeant.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Noll served not Satan faster, nor with him did +better accord;<br /> +For he was my good master, and the Devil was his good lord.<br /> +Both Slingsby, Gerard, and Hewet, <a name="citation83"></a><a +href="#footnote83" class="citation">[83]</a> were sure enough to +go to it,<br /> +According to his intent, that chose me President.<br /> + Sing hi ho, Lord Lisle, <a name="citation84"></a><a +href="#footnote84" class="citation">[84]</a> sure law had got a +wrench,<br /> + And where was justice the while, when you sate on +the bench.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Next comes the good Lord Keble, of the +Triumvirate,<br /> +Of the seal in the law but feeble, though on the bench he +sate;<br /> +<a name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 159</span>For when +one puts him a case, I wish him out of the place,<br /> +And, if it were not a sin, an able lawyer in.<br /> + Sing, give the seal about, I’de have it so the +rather,<br /> + Because we might get out the knave, my lord, my +father.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Pull out the other three, it is Nathaniel Fines +<a name="citation85"></a><a href="#footnote85" +class="citation">[85]</a><br /> +(Who Bristol lost for fear), we’ll not leave him +behind’s;<br /> +’Tis a chip of that good old block, who to loyalty gave the +first knock,<br /> +Then stole away to Lundey, whence the foul fiend fetches him one +day.<br /> + Sing hi ho, canting Fines, you and the rest to mend +’um,<br /> + Would ye were served in your kinds with an <i>ense +rescidendum</i>.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">He that comes down-stairs, is Lord Chief +Justice Glin; <a name="citation86"></a><a href="#footnote86" +class="citation">[86]</a><br /> +If no man for him cares, he cares as little again:<br /> +<a name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 160</span>The +reason too I know’t, he helpt cut Strafford’s +throat,<br /> +And take away his life, though with a cleaner knife.<br /> + Sing hi ho, Britain bold, straight to the bar you +get,<br /> + Where it is not so cold as where your justice +set.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">He that will next come in, was long of the +Council of State,<br /> +Though hardly a hair on his chin when first in the council he +sate;<br /> +He was sometime in Italy, and learned their fashions prettily,<br +/> +Then came back to’s own nation, to help up reformation.<br +/> + Sing hi ho, Harry Nevil, <a name="citation87"></a><a +href="#footnote87" class="citation">[87]</a> I prythee be not too +rash<br /> + With atheism to court the Divel, you’re too +bold to be his bardash.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +161</span>He there with ingratitude blackt is one Cornelius +Holland, <a name="citation88"></a><a href="#footnote88" +class="citation">[88]</a><br /> +Who, but for the King’s house, lackt wherewith to appease +his colon;<br /> +The case is well amended since that time, as I think,<br /> +When at court gate he tended with a little stick and a short +link.<br /> + Sing hi ho, Cornelius, your zeal cannot delude +us;<br /> + The reason pray now tell ye us why thus you +play’d the Judas.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">At first he was a grocer who now we Major +call,<br /> +Although you would think no, Sir, if you saw him in Whitehall,<br +/> +Where he has great command, and looks for cap in hand,<br /> +And if our eggs be not addle, shall be of the next new moddel.<br +/> + Sing hi ho, Mr Salloway, <a name="citation89"></a><a +href="#footnote89" class="citation">[89]</a> the Lord in heaven +doth know<br /> + When that from hence you shall away, where to the +Devil you’l go.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page162"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +162</span>Little Hill, <a name="citation90"></a><a +href="#footnote90" class="citation">[90]</a> since set in the +House, is to a mountain grown;<br /> +Not that which brought forth the mouse, but thousands the year of +his own.<br /> +The purchase that I mean, where else but at Taunton Dean;<br /> +Five thousand pounds per annum, a sum not known to his +grannam.<br /> + Sing hi, the Good old Cause, <a +name="citation91"></a><a href="#footnote91" +class="citation">[91]</a> ’tis old enough not true<br /> + You got more by that then the laws, so a good old +cause to you.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +163</span>Master Cecil, <a name="citation92"></a><a +href="#footnote92" class="citation">[92]</a> pray come behind, +because on your own accord<br /> +The other House you declined, you shall be no longer a lord;<br +/> +The reason, as I guess, you silently did confess,<br /> +Such lords deserved ill the other House to fill.<br /> + Sing hi ho, Mr Cecil, your honour now is gone;<br /> + Such lords are not worth a whistle, we have made +better lords of our own.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Luke Robinson <a name="citation93"></a><a +href="#footnote93" class="citation">[93]</a> shall go before ye, +that snarling northern tyke;<br /> +Be sure he’ll not adore ye, for honour he doth not like;<br +/> +He cannot honour inherit, and he knows he can never merit,<br /> +And therefore he cannot bear it that any one else should wear +it.<br /> + <a name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +164</span>Sing hi ho, envious lown, you’re of the +beagle’s kind,<br /> + Who always bark’d at the moon, because in the +dark it shined.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis this that vengeance rouses, that, +while you make long prayers,<br /> +You eat up widows’ houses, and drink the orphan’s +tears;<br /> +Long time you kept a great noise, of God and the Good old +Cause;<br /> +But if God to you be so kind, then I’me of the +Indian’s mind.<br /> + Sing hi ho, Sir Harry, <a name="citation94"></a><a +href="#footnote94" class="citation">[94]</a> we see, by your +demeanour,<br /> + If longer here you tarry, you’ll be Sir Harry +Vane, Senior.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now if your zeal do warme ye, pray loud for +fairer weather;<br /> +Swear to live and die with the army, for these birds are flown +together;<br /> +The House is turn’d out a doe, (and I think it was no sin, +too);<br /> +If we take them there any more, we’ll throw the House out +of the window.<br /> + Sing hi ho, Tom Scot, <a name="citation95"></a><a +href="#footnote95" class="citation">[95]</a> you lent the Devil +your hand;<br /> + <a name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +165</span>I wonder he helpt you not, but suffred you t’ be +trapand.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">They’re once again conduced, and we freed +from the evil<br /> +To which we long were used; God blesse us next from the Devil!<br +/> +If they had not been outed the array had been routed,<br /> +And then this rotten Rump had sat until the last trump.<br /> + But, hi ho, Lambert’s here, the +Protector’s instrument bore,<br /> + And many there be who swear that he will do it no +more.<br /> + Sing hi ho, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Come here, then, honest Peters, <a +name="citation96"></a><a href="#footnote96" +class="citation">[96]</a> say grace for the second course,<br /> +So long as these your betters must patience have upon force,<br +/> +Long time he kept a great noise with God and the Good old +Cause,<br /> +But if God own such as these, then where’s the +Devil’s fees?<br /> + Sing hi ho, Hugo, I hear thou art not dead;<br /> + Where now to the Devil will you go, your patrons +being fled?<br /> + Sing hi ho, my honey, my heart shall never rue,<br +/> + Four-and-twenty now for a penny, and into the +bargain Hugh.</p> +<h3><a name="page166"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 166</span>THE +TALE OF THE COBBLER AND THE VICAR OF BRAY.</h3> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">Rara est concordia +fratrum. Ovid.</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: center">By Samuel Butler.</p> +<p>The “Sir Samuel” of this Ballad is the same +person—Sir Samuel Luke of Bedfordshire—who is +supposed to have been the unconscious model of the portrait which +is drawn so much more fully in the inimitable Hudibras. +Ralph is also the well-known Squire in the same poem. The +Ballad, though published in Butler’s “Posthumous +Works,” 1724, was rejected by Thyer in the edition of 1784, +and is not included in the “Genuine Remains,” +published from the original manuscripts, formerly in the +possession of William Longueville, Esq. If not by Butler, +it is a successful imitation of his style, and abounds in phrases +of sturdy colloquial English, and is of a date long anterior to +the popular song, “The Vicar of Bray.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">In</span> Bedfordshire +there dwelt a knight,<br /> + Sir Samuel by name,<br /> +Who by his feats in civil broils<br /> + Obtain’d a mighty fame.</p> +<p class="poetry">Nor was he much less wise and stout,<br /> + But fit in both respects<br /> +To humble sturdy Cavaliers,<br /> + And to support the sects.</p> +<p class="poetry">This worthy knight was one that swore<br /> + He would not cut his beard<br /> +Till this ungodly nation was<br /> + From kings and bishops clear’d:</p> +<p class="poetry">Which holy vow he firmly kept,<br /> + And most devoutly wore<br /> +<a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 167</span>A grizly +meteor on his face<br /> + Till they were both no more.</p> +<p class="poetry">His worship was, in short, a man<br /> + Of such exceeding worth,<br /> +No pen or pencil can describe,<br /> + Or rhyming bard set forth.</p> +<p class="poetry">Many and mighty things he did<br /> + Both sober and in liquor,—<br /> +Witness the mortal fray between<br /> + The Cobbler and the Vicar;</p> +<p class="poetry">Which by his wisdom and his power<br /> + He wisely did prevent,<br /> +And both the combatants at once<br /> + In wooden durance pent.</p> +<p class="poetry">The manner how these two fell out<br /> + And quarrell’d in their ale,<br /> +I shall attempt at large to show<br /> + In the succeeding tale.</p> +<p class="poetry">A strolling cobbler, who was wont<br /> + To trudge from town to town,<br /> +Happen’d upon his walk to meet<br /> + A vicar in his gown.</p> +<p class="poetry">And as they forward jogg’d along,<br /> + The vicar, growing hot,<br /> +First asked the cobbler if he knew<br /> + Where they might take a pot?</p> +<p class="poetry">Yes, marry that I do, quoth he;<br /> + Here is a house hard by,<br /> +That far exceeds all Bedfordshire<br /> + For ale and landlady.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +168</span>Thither let’s go, the vicar said;<br /> + And when they thither came,<br /> +He liked the liquor wondrous well,<br /> + But better far the dame.</p> +<p class="poetry">And she, who, like a cunning jilt,<br /> + Knew how to please her guest,<br /> +Used all her little tricks and arts<br /> + To entertain the priest.</p> +<p class="poetry">The cobbler too, who quickly saw<br /> + The landlady’s design,<br /> +Did all that in his power was<br /> + To manage the divine.</p> +<p class="poetry">With smutty jests and merry songs<br /> + They charm’d the vicar so,<br /> +That he determined for that night<br /> + No further he would go.</p> +<p class="poetry">And being fixt, the cobbler thought<br /> + ’Twas proper to go try<br /> +If he could get a job or two<br /> + His charges to supply.</p> +<p class="poetry">So going out into the street,<br /> + He bawls with all his might,—<br /> +If any of you tread awry<br /> + I’m here to set you right.</p> +<p class="poetry">I can repair your leaky boots,<br /> + And underlay your soles;<br /> +Backsliders, I can underprop<br /> + And patch up all your holes.</p> +<p class="poetry">The vicar, who unluckily<br /> + The cobbler’s outcry heard,<br /> +<a name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 169</span>From off +the bench on which he sat<br /> + With mighty fury rear’d.</p> +<p class="poetry">Quoth he, What priest, what holy priest<br /> + Can hear this bawling slave,<br /> +But must, in justice to his coat,<br /> + Chastise the saucy knave?</p> +<p class="poetry">What has this wretch to do with souls,<br /> + Or with backsliders either,<br /> +Whose business only is his awls,<br /> + His lasts, his thread, and leather?</p> +<p class="poetry">I lose my patience to be made<br /> + This strolling varlet’s sport;<br /> +Nor could I think this saucy rogue<br /> + Could serve me in such sort.</p> +<p class="poetry">The cobbler, who had no design<br /> + The vicar to displease,<br /> +Unluckily repeats again,—<br /> + I’m come your soals to ease:</p> +<p class="poetry">The inward and the outward too<br /> + I can repair and mend;<br /> +And all that my assistance want,<br /> + I’ll use them like a friend.</p> +<p class="poetry">The country folk no sooner heard<br /> + The honest cobbler’s tongue,<br /> +But from the village far and near<br /> + They round about him throng.</p> +<p class="poetry">Some bring their boots, and some their +shoes,<br /> + And some their buskins bring:<br /> +The cobbler sits him down to work,<br /> + And then begins to sing.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page170"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +170</span>Death often at the cobbler’s stall<br /> + Was wont to make a stand,<br /> +But found the cobbler singing still,<br /> + And on the mending hand;</p> +<p class="poetry">Until at length he met old Time,<br /> + And then they both together<br /> +Quite tear the cobbler’s aged sole<br /> + From off the upper leather.</p> +<p class="poetry">Even so a while I may old shoes<br /> + By care and art maintain,<br /> +But when the leather’s rotten grown<br /> + All art and care is vain.</p> +<p class="poetry">And thus the cobbler stitched and sung,<br /> + Not thinking any harm;<br /> +Till out the angry vicar came<br /> + With ale and passion warm.</p> +<p class="poetry">Dost thou not know, vile slave! quoth he,<br /> + How impious ’tis to jest<br /> +With sacred things, and to profane<br /> + The office of a priest?</p> +<p class="poetry">How dar’st thou, most audacious +wretch!<br /> + Those vile expressions use,<br /> +Which make the souls of men as cheap<br /> + As soals of boots and shoes?</p> +<p class="poetry">Such reprobates as you betray<br /> + Our character and gown,<br /> +And would, if you had once the power,<br /> + The Church itself pull down.</p> +<p class="poetry">The cobbler, not aware that he<br /> + Had done or said amiss,<br /> +<a name="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +171</span>Reply’d, I do not understand<br /> + What you can mean by this.</p> +<p class="poetry">Tho’ I but a poor cobbler be,<br /> + And stroll about for bread,<br /> +None better loves the Church than I<br /> + That ever wore a head.</p> +<p class="poetry">But since you are so good at names,<br /> + And make so loud a pother,<br /> +I’ll tell you plainly I’m afraid<br /> + You’re but some cobbling brother.</p> +<p class="poetry">Come, vicar, tho’ you talk so big,<br /> + Our trades are near akin;<br /> +I patch and cobble outward soals<br /> + As you do those within.</p> +<p class="poetry">And I’ll appeal to any man<br /> + That understands the nation,<br /> +If I han’t done more good than you<br /> + In my respective station.</p> +<p class="poetry">Old leather, I must needs confess,<br /> + I’ve sometimes used as new,<br /> +And often pared the soal so near<br /> + That I have spoil’d the shoe.</p> +<p class="poetry">You vicars, by a different way,<br /> + Have done the very same;<br /> +For you have pared your doctrines so<br /> + You made religion lame.</p> +<p class="poetry">Your principles you’ve quite +disown’d,<br /> + And old ones changed for new,<br /> +That no man can distinguish right<br /> + Which are the false or true.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +172</span>I dare be bold, you’re one of those<br /> + Have took the Covenant;<br /> +With Cavaliers are Cavalier,<br /> + And with the saints a saint.</p> +<p class="poetry">The vicar at this sharp rebuke<br /> + Begins to storm and swear;<br /> +Quoth he, Thou vile apostate wretch!<br /> + Dost thou with me compare?</p> +<p class="poetry">I that have care of many souls,<br /> + And power to damn or save,<br /> +Dar’st thou thyself compare with me,<br /> + Thou vile, ungodly knave!</p> +<p class="poetry">I wish I had thee somewhere else,<br /> + I’d quickly make thee know<br /> +What ’tis to make comparisons,<br /> + And to revile me so.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thou art an enemy to the State,<br /> + Some priest in masquerade,<br /> +That, to promote the Pope’s designs,<br /> + Has learnt the cobbling trade:</p> +<p class="poetry">Or else some spy to Cavaliers,<br /> + And art by them sent out<br /> +To carry false intelligence,<br /> + And scatter lies about.</p> +<p class="poetry">But whilst the vicar full of ire<br /> + Was railing at this rate,<br /> +His worship, good Sir Samuel,<br /> + O’erlighted at the gate.</p> +<p class="poetry">And asking of the landlady<br /> + Th’ occasion of the stir;<br /> +<a name="page173"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 173</span>Quoth +she, If you will give me leave<br /> + I will inform you, Sir.</p> +<p class="poetry">This cobbler happening to o’ertake<br /> + The vicar in his walk,<br /> +In friendly sort they forward march,<br /> + And to each other talk.</p> +<p class="poetry">Until the parson first proposed<br /> + To stop and take a whet;<br /> +So cheek by jole they hither came<br /> + Like travellers well met.</p> +<p class="poetry">A world of healths and jests went round,<br /> + Sometimes a merry tale;<br /> +Till they resolved to stay all night,<br /> + So well they liked my ale.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thus all things lovingly went on,<br /> + And who so great as they;<br /> +Before an ugly accident<br /> + Began this mortal fray.</p> +<p class="poetry">The case I take it to be this,—<br /> + The vicar being fixt,<br /> +The cobbler chanced to cry his trade,<br /> + And in his cry he mixt</p> +<p class="poetry">Some harmless words, which I suppose<br /> + The vicar falsely thought<br /> +Might be design’d to banter him,<br /> + And scandalize his coat.</p> +<p class="poetry">If that be all, quoth he, go out<br /> + And bid them both come in;<br /> +A dozen of your nappy ale<br /> + Will set ’em right again.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page174"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +174</span>And if the ale should chance to fail,<br /> + For so perhaps it may,<br /> +I have it in my powers to try<br /> + A more effectual way.</p> +<p class="poetry">These vicars are a wilful tribe,<br /> + A restless, stubborn crew;<br /> +And if they are not humbled quite,<br /> + The State they will undo.</p> +<p class="poetry">The cobbler is a cunning knave,<br /> + That goes about by stealth,<br /> +And would, instead of mending shoes,<br /> + Repair the Commonwealth.</p> +<p class="poetry">However, bid ’em both come in,<br /> + This fray must have an end;<br /> +Such little feuds as these do oft<br /> + To greater mischiefs tend.</p> +<p class="poetry">Without more bidding out she goes<br /> + And told them, by her troth,<br /> +There was a magistrate within<br /> + That needs must see ’em both.</p> +<p class="poetry">But, gentlemen, pray distance keep,<br /> + And don’t too testy be;<br /> +Ill words good manners still corrupt<br /> + And spoil good company.</p> +<p class="poetry">To this the vicar first replies,<br /> + I fear no magistrate;<br /> +For let ’em make what laws they will,<br /> + I’ll still obey the State.</p> +<p class="poetry">Whatever I can say or do,<br /> + I’m sure not much avails;<br /> +<a name="page175"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 175</span>I stall +still be Vicar of Bray<br /> + Whichever side prevails.</p> +<p class="poetry">My conscience, thanks to Heaven, is come<br /> + To such a happy pass,<br /> +That I can take the Covenant<br /> + And never hang an ass.</p> +<p class="poetry">I’ve took so many oaths before,<br /> + That now without remorse<br /> +I take all oaths the State can make,<br /> + As meerly things of course.</p> +<p class="poetry">Go therefore, dame, the justice tell<br /> + His summons I’ll obey;<br /> +And further you may let him know<br /> + I Vicar am of Bray.</p> +<p class="poetry">I find indeed, the cobbler said,<br /> + I am not much mistaken;<br /> +This vicar knows the ready way<br /> + To save his reverend bacon. <a +name="citation97"></a><a href="#footnote97" +class="citation">[97]</a></p> +<p class="poetry">This is a hopeful priest indeed,<br /> + And well deserves a rope;<br /> +Rather than lose his vicarage<br /> + He’d swear to Turk or Pope.</p> +<p class="poetry">For gain he would his God deny,<br /> + His country and his King;<br /> +Swear and forswear, recant and lye,<br /> + Do any wicked thing.</p> +<p class="poetry">At this the vicar set his teeth,<br /> + And to the cobbler flew;<br /> +<a name="page176"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 176</span>And with +his sacerdotal fist<br /> + Gave him a box or two.</p> +<p class="poetry">The cobbler soon return’d the blows,<br +/> + And with both head and heel<br /> +So manfully behaved himself,<br /> + He made the vicar reel.</p> +<p class="poetry">Great was the outcry that was made,<br /> + And in the woman ran<br /> +To tell his worship that the fight<br /> + Betwixt them was began.</p> +<p class="poetry">And is it so indeed? quoth he;<br /> + I’ll make the slaves repent:<br /> +Then up he took his basket hilt,<br /> + And out enraged he went.</p> +<p class="poetry">The country folk no sooner saw<br /> + The knight with naked blade,<br /> +But for his worship instantly<br /> + An open lane was made;</p> +<p class="poetry">Who with a stern and angry look<br /> + Cry’d out, What knaves are these<br /> +That in the face of justice dare<br /> + Disturb the public peace?</p> +<p class="poetry">Vile rascals! I will make you know<br /> + I am a magistrate,<br /> +And that as such I bear about<br /> + The vengeance of the State.</p> +<p class="poetry">Go, seize them, Ralph, and bring them in,<br /> + That I may know the cause,<br /> +That first induced them to this rage,<br /> + And thus to break the laws.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +177</span>Ralph, who was both his squire and clerk,<br /> + And constable withal,<br /> +I’ th’ name o’ th’ Commonwealth aloud<br +/> + Did for assistance bawl.</p> +<p class="poetry">The words had hardly pass’d his mouth<br +/> + But they secure them both;<br /> +And Ralph, to show his furious zeal<br /> + And hatred to the cloth,</p> +<p class="poetry">Runs to the vicar through the crowd,<br /> + And takes him by the throat:<br /> +How ill, says he, doth this become<br /> + Your character and coat!</p> +<p class="poetry">Was it for this not long ago<br /> + You took the Covenant,<br /> +And in most solemn manner swore<br /> + That you’d become a saint?</p> +<p class="poetry">And here he gave him such a pinch<br /> + That made the vicar shout,—<br /> +Good people, I shall murder’d be<br /> + By this ungodly lout.</p> +<p class="poetry">He gripes my throat to that degree<br /> + I can’t his talons bear;<br /> +And if you do not hold his hands,<br /> + He’ll throttle me, I fear.</p> +<p class="poetry">At this a butcher of the town<br /> + Steps up to Ralph in ire,—<br /> +What, will you squeeze his gullet through,<br /> + You son of blood and fire?</p> +<p class="poetry">You are the Devil’s instrument<br /> + To execute the laws;<br /> +<a name="page178"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 178</span>What, +will you murther the poor man<br /> + With your phanatick claws?</p> +<p class="poetry">At which the squire quits his hold,<br /> + And lugging out his blade,<br /> +Full at the sturdy butcher’s pate<br /> + A furious stroke he made.</p> +<p class="poetry">A dismal outcry then began<br /> + Among the country folk;<br /> +Who all conclude the butcher slain<br /> + By such a mortal stroke.</p> +<p class="poetry">But here good fortune, that has still<br /> + A friendship for the brave,<br /> +I’ th’ nick misguides the fatal blow,<br /> + And does the butcher save.</p> +<p class="poetry">The knight, who heard the noise within,<br /> + Runs out with might and main,<br /> +And seeing Ralph amidst the crowd<br /> + In danger to be slain,</p> +<p class="poetry">Without regard to age or sex<br /> + Old basket-hilt so ply’d,<br /> +That in an instant three or four<br /> + Lay bleeding at his side.</p> +<p class="poetry">And greater mischiefs in his rage<br /> + This furious knight had done,<br /> +If he had not prevented been<br /> + By Dick, the blacksmith’s son,</p> +<p class="poetry">Who catch’d his worship on the hip,<br /> + And gave him such a squelch,<br /> +That he some moments breathless lay<br /> + Ere he was heard to belch.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page179"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +179</span>Nor was the squire in better case,<br /> + By sturdy butcher ply’d,<br /> +Who from the shoulder to the flank<br /> + Had soundly swinged his hide.</p> +<p class="poetry">Whilst things in this confusion stood,<br /> + And knight and squire disarm’d,<br /> +Up comes a neighbouring gentleman<br /> + The outcry had alarm’d;</p> +<p class="poetry">Who riding up among the crowd,<br /> + The vicar first he spy’d,<br /> +With sleeveless gown and bloody band<br /> + And hands behind him ty’d.</p> +<p class="poetry">Bless me, says he, what means all this?<br /> + Then turning round his eyes,<br /> +In the same plight, or in a worse,<br /> + The cobbler bleeding spies.</p> +<p class="poetry">And looking further round he saw,<br /> + Like one in doleful dump,<br /> +The knight, amidst a gaping mob,<br /> + Sit pensive on his rump.</p> +<p class="poetry">And by his side lay Ralph his squire,<br /> + Whom butcher fell had maul’d;<br /> +Who bitterly bemoan’d his fate,<br /> + And for a surgeon call’d.</p> +<p class="poetry">Surprised at first he paused awhile,<br /> + And then accosts the knight,—<br /> +What makes you here, Sir Samuel,<br /> + In this unhappy plight?</p> +<p class="poetry">At this the knight gave’s breast a +thump,<br /> + And stretching out his hand,—<br /> +<a name="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 180</span>If you +will pull me up, he cried,<br /> + I’ll try if I can stand.</p> +<p class="poetry">And then I’ll let you know the cause;<br +/> + But first take care of Ralph,<br /> +Who in my good or ill success<br /> + Doth always stand my half.</p> +<p class="poetry">In short, he got his worship up<br /> + And led him in the door;<br /> +Where he at length relates the tale<br /> + As I have told before.</p> +<p class="poetry">When he had heard the story out,<br /> + The gentleman replies,—<br /> +It is not in my province, sir,<br /> + Your worship to advise.</p> +<p class="poetry">But were I in your worship’s place,<br /> + The only thing I’d do,<br /> +Was first to reprimand the fools,<br /> + And then to let them go.</p> +<p class="poetry">I think it first advisable<br /> + To take them from the rabble,<br /> +And let them come and both set forth<br /> + The occasion of the squabble.</p> +<p class="poetry">This is the Vicar, Sir, of Bray,<br /> + A man of no repute,<br /> +The scorn and scandal of his tribe,<br /> + A loose, ill-manner’d brute.</p> +<p class="poetry">The cobbler’s a poor strolling wretch<br +/> + That mends my servants’ shoes;<br /> +And often calls as he goes by<br /> + To bring me country news.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page181"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +181</span>At this his worship grip’d his beard,<br /> + And in an angry mood,<br /> +Swore by the laws of chivalry<br /> + That blood required blood.</p> +<p class="poetry">Besides, I’m by the Commonwealth<br /> + Entrusted to chastise<br /> +All knaves that straggle up and down<br /> + To raise such mutinies.</p> +<p class="poetry">However, since ’tis your request,<br /> + They shall be call’d and heard;<br /> +But neither Ralph nor I can grant<br /> + Such rascals should be clear’d.</p> +<p class="poetry">And so, to wind the tale up short,<br /> + They were call’d in together;<br /> +And by the gentlemen were ask’d<br /> + What wind ’twas blew them thither.</p> +<p class="poetry">Good ale and handsome landladies<br /> + You might have nearer home;<br /> +And therefore ’tis for something more<br /> + That you so far are come.</p> +<p class="poetry">To which the vicar answer’d +first,—<br /> + My living is so small,<br /> +That I am forced to stroll about<br /> + To try and get a call.</p> +<p class="poetry">And, quoth the cobbler, I am forced<br /> + To leave my wife and dwelling,<br /> +T’ escape the danger of being press’d<br /> + To go a colonelling.</p> +<p class="poetry">There’s many an honest jovial lad<br /> + Unwarily drawn in,<br /> +<a name="page182"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 182</span>That I +have reason to suspect<br /> + Will scarce get out again.</p> +<p class="poetry">The proverb says, <i>Harm watch harm +catch</i>,<br /> + I’ll out of danger keep,<br /> +For he that sleeps in a whole skin<br /> + Doth most securely sleep.</p> +<p class="poetry">My business is to mend bad soals<br /> + And stitch up broken quarters:<br /> +A cobbler’s name would look but odd<br /> + Among a list of martyrs.</p> +<p class="poetry">Faith, cobbler, quoth the gentleman,<br /> + And that shall be my case;<br /> +I will neither party join,<br /> + Let what will come to pass.</p> +<p class="poetry">No importunities or threats<br /> + My fixt resolves shall rest;<br /> +Come here, Sir Samuel, where’s his health<br /> + That loves old England best.</p> +<p class="poetry">I pity those unhappy fools<br /> + Who, ere they were aware,<br /> +Designing and ambitious men<br /> + Have drawn into a snare.</p> +<p class="poetry">But, vicar, to come to the case,—<br /> + Amidst a senseless crowd,<br /> +What urged you to such violence,<br /> + And made you talk so loud?</p> +<p class="poetry">Passion I’m sure does ill become<br /> + Your character and cloath,<br /> +And, tho’ the cause be ne’er so just,<br /> + Brings scandal upon both.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +183</span>Vicar, I speak it with regret,<br /> + An inadvertent priest<br /> +Renders himself ridiculous,<br /> + And every body’s jest.</p> +<p class="poetry">The vicar to be thus rebuked<br /> + A little time stood mute;<br /> +But having gulp’d his passion down,<br /> + Replies,—That cobbling brute</p> +<p class="poetry">Has treated me with such contempt,<br /> + Such vile expressions used,<br /> +That I no longer could forbear<br /> + To hear myself abused.</p> +<p class="poetry">The rascal had the insolence<br /> + To give himself the lie,<br /> +And to aver h’ had done more good<br /> + And saved more soals than I.</p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, further, Sir, this miscreant<br /> + To tell me was so bold,<br /> +Our trades were very near of kin,<br /> + But his was the more old.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now, Sir, I will to you appeal<br /> + On such a provocation,<br /> +If there was not sufficient cause<br /> + To use a little passion?</p> +<p class="poetry">Now, quoth the cobbler, with your leave,<br /> + I’ll prove it to his face,<br /> +All this is mere suggestion,<br /> + And foreign to the case.</p> +<p class="poetry">And since he calls so many names<br /> + And talks so very loud,<br /> +<a name="page184"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 184</span>I will +be bound to make it plain<br /> + ’Twas he that raised the crowd.</p> +<p class="poetry">Nay, further, I will make ’t appear<br /> + He and the priests have done<br /> +More mischief than the cobblers far<br /> + All over Christendom.</p> +<p class="poetry">All Europe groans beneath their yoke,<br /> + And poor Great Britain owes<br /> +To them her present miseries,<br /> + And dread of future woes.</p> +<p class="poetry">The priests of all religions are<br /> + And will be still the same,<br /> +And all, tho’ in a different way,<br /> + Are playing the same game.</p> +<p class="poetry">At this the gentleman stood up,—<br /> + Cobbler, you run too fast;<br /> +By thus condemning all the tribe<br /> + You go beyond your last.</p> +<p class="poetry">Much mischief has by priests been done,<br /> + And more is doing still;<br /> +But then to censure all alike<br /> + Must be exceeding ill.</p> +<p class="poetry">Too many, I must needs confess,<br /> + Are mightily to blame,<br /> +Who by their wicked practices<br /> + Disgrace the very name.</p> +<p class="poetry">But, cobbler, still the major part<br /> + The minor should conclude;<br /> +To argue at another rate’s<br /> + Impertinent and rude.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +185</span>By this time all the neighbours round<br /> + Were flock’d about the door,<br /> +And some were on the vicar’s side,<br /> + But on the cobbler’s more.</p> +<p class="poetry">Among the rest a grazier, who<br /> + Had lately been at town<br /> +To sell his oxen and his sheep,<br /> + Brim-full of news came down.</p> +<p class="poetry">Quoth he, The priests have preach’d and +pray’d,<br /> + And made so damn’d a pother,<br /> +That all the people are run mad<br /> + To murther one another.</p> +<p class="poetry">By their contrivances and arts<br /> + They’ve play’d their game so long,<br /> +That no man knows which side is right,<br /> + Or which is in the wrong.</p> +<p class="poetry">I’m sure I’ve Smithfield market +used<br /> + For more than twenty year,<br /> +But never did such murmurings<br /> + And dreadful outcries hear.</p> +<p class="poetry">Some for a church, and some a tub,<br /> + And some for both together;<br /> +And some, perhaps the greater part,<br /> + Have no regard for either.</p> +<p class="poetry">Some for a king, and some for none;<br /> + And some have hankerings<br /> +To mend the Commonwealth, and make<br /> + An empire of all kings.</p> +<p class="poetry">What’s worse, old Noll is marching +off,<br /> + And Dick, his heir-apparent,<br /> +<a name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 186</span>Succeeds +him in the government,<br /> + A very lame vicegerent.</p> +<p class="poetry">He’ll reign but little time, poor +fool,<br /> + But sink beneath the State,<br /> +That will not fail to ride the fool<br /> + ’Bove common horseman’s weight.</p> +<p class="poetry">And rulers, when they lose the power,<br /> + Like horses overweigh’d,<br /> +Must either fall and break their knees,<br /> + Or else turn perfect jade.</p> +<p class="poetry">The vicar to be twice rebuked<br /> + No longer could contain;<br /> +But thus replies,—To knaves like you<br /> + All arguments are vain.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Church must use her arm of flesh,<br /> + The other will not do;<br /> +The clergy waste their breath and time<br /> + On miscreants like you.</p> +<p class="poetry">You are so stubborn and so proud,<br /> + So dull and prepossest,<br /> +That no instructions can prevail<br /> + How well soe’er addrest.</p> +<p class="poetry">Who would reform such reprobates,<br /> + Must drub them soundly first;<br /> +I know no other way but that<br /> + To make them wise or just.</p> +<p class="poetry">Fie, vicar, fie, his patron said,<br /> + Sure that is not the way;<br /> +You should instruct your auditors<br /> + To suffer or obey.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +187</span>Those were the doctrines that of old<br /> + The learned fathers taught;<br /> +And ’twas by them the Church at first<br /> + Was to perfection brought.</p> +<p class="poetry">Come, vicar, lay your feuds aside,<br /> + And calmly take your cup;<br /> +And let us try in friendly wise<br /> + To make the matter up.</p> +<p class="poetry">That’s certainly the wiser course,<br /> + And better too by far;<br /> +All men of prudence strive to quench<br /> + The sparks of civil war.</p> +<p class="poetry">By furious heats and ill advice<br /> + Our neighbours are undone,<br /> +Then let us timely caution take<br /> + From their destruction.</p> +<p class="poetry">If we would turn our heads about,<br /> + And look towards forty-one,<br /> +We soon should see what little jars<br /> + Those cruel wars begun.</p> +<p class="poetry">A one-eyed cobbler then was one<br /> + Of that rebellious crew,<br /> +That did in Charles the martyr’s blood<br /> + Their wicked hands imbrue.</p> +<p class="poetry">I mention this not to deface<br /> + This cobbler’s reputation,<br /> +Whom I have always honest found,<br /> + And useful in his station.</p> +<p class="poetry">But this I urge to let you see<br /> + The danger of a fight<br /> +<a name="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 188</span>Between +a cobbler and a priest,<br /> + Though he were ne’er so right.</p> +<p class="poetry">The vicars are a numerous tribe,<br /> + So are the cobblers too;<br /> +And if a general quarrel rise,<br /> + What must the country do?</p> +<p class="poetry">Our outward and our inward soals<br /> + Must quickly want repair;<br /> +And all the neighbourhood around<br /> + Would the misfortune share.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sir, quoth the grazier, I believe<br /> + Our outward soals indeed<br /> +May quickly want the cobbler’s help<br /> + To be from leakings freed.</p> +<p class="poetry">But for our inward souls, I think<br /> + They’re of a worth too great<br /> +To be committed to the care<br /> + Of any holy cheat,</p> +<p class="poetry">Who only serves his God for gain,<br /> + Religion is his trade;<br /> +And ’tis by such as these our Church<br /> + So scandalous is made.</p> +<p class="poetry">Why should I trust my soul with one<br /> + That preaches, swears, and prays,<br /> +And the next moment contradicts<br /> + Himself in all he says?</p> +<p class="poetry">His solemn oaths he looks upon<br /> + As only words of course!<br /> +Which like their wives our fathers took<br /> + For better or for worse.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +189</span>But he takes oaths as some take w—s,<br /> + Only to serve his ease;<br /> +And rogues and w—s, it is well known,<br /> + May part whene’er they please.</p> +<p class="poetry">At this the cobbler bolder grew,<br /> + And stoutly thus reply’d,—<br /> +If you’re so good at drubbing, Sir,<br /> + Your manhood shall be try’d.</p> +<p class="poetry">What I have said I will maintain,<br /> + And further prove withal—<br /> +I daily do more good than you<br /> + In my respective call.</p> +<p class="poetry">I know your character, quoth he,<br /> + You proud insulting vicar,<br /> +Who only huff and domineer<br /> + And quarrel in your liquor.</p> +<p class="poetry">The honest gentleman, who saw<br /> + ’Twould come again to blows,<br /> +Commands the cobbler to forbear,<br /> + And to the vicar goes.</p> +<p class="poetry">Vicar, says he, for shame give o’er<br /> + And mitigate your rage;<br /> +You scandalize your cloth too much<br /> + A cobbler to engage.</p> +<p class="poetry">All people’s eyes are on your tribe,<br +/> + And every little ill<br /> +They multiply and aggravate<br /> + And will because they will.</p> +<p class="poetry">But now let’s call another cause,<br /> + So let this health go round;<br /> +<a name="page190"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 190</span>Be peace +and plenty, truth and right,<br /> + In good old England found.</p> +<p class="poetry">Quoth Ralph, All this is empty talk<br /> + And only tends to laughter;<br /> +If these two varlets should be spared,<br /> + Who’d pity us hereafter?</p> +<p class="poetry">Your worship may do what you please,<br /> + But I’ll have satisfaction<br /> +For drubbing and for damages<br /> + In this ungodly action.</p> +<p class="poetry">I think that you can do no less<br /> + Than send them to the stocks;<br /> +And I’ll assist the constable<br /> + In fixing in their hocks.</p> +<p class="poetry">There let ’em sit and fight it out,<br /> + Or scold till they are friends;<br /> +Or, what is better much than both,<br /> + Till I am made amends.</p> +<p class="poetry">Ralph, quoth the knight, that’s well +advised,<br /> + Let them both hither go,<br /> +And you and the sub-magistrate<br /> + Take care that it be so.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let them be lock’d in face to face,<br /> + Bare buttocks on the ground;<br /> +And let them in that posture sit<br /> + Till they with us compound.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thus fixt, well leave them for a time,<br /> + Whilst we with grief relate,<br /> +How at a wake this knight and squire<br /> + Got each a broken pate.</p> +<h3><a name="page191"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 191</span>THE +GENEVA BALLAD.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From Samuel Butler’s +Posthumous Works.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Of</span> all the factions +in the town<br /> + Moved by French springs or Flemish wheels,<br /> +None turns religion upside down,<br /> + Or tears pretences out at heels,<br /> +Like <i>Splaymouth</i> with his brace of caps,<br /> +Whose conscience might be scann’d perhaps<br /> +By the dimensions of his chaps;</p> +<p class="poetry">He whom the sisters do adore,<br /> + Counting his actions all divine,<br /> +Who when the spirit hints can roar,<br /> + And, if occasion serves, can whine;<br /> +Nay, he can bellow, bray, or bark;<br /> +Was ever <i>sike a Beauk-learn’d</i> clerk<br /> +That speaks all linguas of the ark?</p> +<p class="poetry">To draw the hornets in like bees,<br /> + With pleasing twangs he tones his prose;<br /> +He gives his handkerchief a squeeze,<br /> + And draws John Calvin thro’ his nose;<br /> +Motive on motive he obtrudes,<br /> +With slip-stocking similitudes,<br /> +Eight uses more, and so concludes.</p> +<p class="poetry">When monarchy began to bleed,<br /> + And treason had a fine new name;<br /> +When Thames was balderdash’d with Tweed,<br /> + And pulpits did like beacons flame;<br /> +<a name="page192"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 192</span>When +Jeroboam’s calves were rear’d,<br /> +And Laud was neither loved nor fear’d,<br /> +This gospel-comet first appear’d.</p> +<p class="poetry">Soon his unhallow’d fingers stript<br /> + His sovereign-liege of power and land;<br /> +And, having smote his master, slipt<br /> + His sword into his fellow’s hand;<br /> +But he that wears his eyes may note<br /> +Oft-times the butcher binds a goat,<br /> +And leaves his boy to cut her throat.</p> +<p class="poetry">Poor England felt his fury then<br /> + Outweigh’d Queen Mary’s many grains;<br +/> +His very preaching slew more men<br /> + Than Bonnar’s faggots, stakes, and chains:<br +/> +With dog-star zeal, and lungs like Boreas,<br /> +He fought, and taught, and, what’s notorious,<br /> +Destroy’d his Lord to make him glorious.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet drew for King and Parliament,<br /> + As if the wind could stand north-south;<br /> +Broke Moses’ law with blest intent,<br /> + Murther’d, and then he wiped his mouth:<br /> +Oblivion alters not his case,<br /> +Nor clemency nor acts of grace<br /> +Can blanch an Ethiopian’s face.</p> +<p class="poetry">Ripe for rebellion, he begins<br /> + To rally up the saints in swarms;<br /> +He bawls aloud, Sir, leave your sins,<br /> + But whispers, Boys, stand to your arms:<br /> +Thus he’s grown insolently rude,<br /> +Thinking his gods can’t be subdued—<br /> +<i>Money</i>, I mean, and <i>multitude</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page193"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +193</span>Magistrates he regards no more<br /> + Than St George or the King of Colon,<br /> +Vowing he’ll not conform before<br /> + The old wives wind their dead in woollen:<br /> +He calls the bishop gray-hair’d coff,<br /> +And makes his power as mere a scoff<br /> +As Dagon when his hands were off.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hark! how he opens with full cry,<br /> + Halloo, my hearts, beware of Rome!<br /> +Cowards that are afraid to die<br /> + Thus make domestic brawls at home.<br /> +How quietly great Charles might reign,<br /> +Would all these Hotspurs cross the main<br /> +And preach down Popery in Spain.</p> +<p class="poetry">The starry rule of Heaven is fixt,<br /> + There’s no dissension in the sky;<br /> +And can there be a mean betwixt,<br /> + Confusion and conformity?<br /> +A place divided never thrives,<br /> +’Tis bad when hornets dwell in hives,<br /> +But worse when children play with knives.</p> +<p class="poetry">I would as soon turn back to mass,<br /> + Or change my praise to <i>Thee</i> and +<i>Thou</i>;<br /> +Let the Pope ride me like an ass,<br /> + And his priests milk me like a cow!<br /> +As buckle to Smectymnian laws,<br /> +The bad effects o’ th’ Good old Cause,<br /> +That have dove’s plumes, but vulture’s claws.</p> +<p class="poetry">For ’twas the holy Kirk that nursed,<br +/> + The Brownists and the ranters’ crew;<br /> +<a name="page194"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 194</span>Foul +error’s motley vesture first<br /> + Was oaded <a name="citation98"></a><a +href="#footnote98" class="citation">[98]</a> in a northern +blue;<br /> +And what’s th’ enthusiastick breed,<br /> +Or men of Knipperdolin’s creed,<br /> +But Cov’nanters run up to seed!</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet they all cry they love the King,<br /> + And make boast of their innocence:<br /> +There cannot be so vile a thing<br /> + But may be cover’d with pretence;<br /> +Yet when all’s said, one thing I’ll swear,<br /> +No subject like th’ old Cavalier,<br /> +No traytor like <i>Jack-Presbyter</i>.</p> +<h3>THE DEVIL’S PROGRESS ON EARTH,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR</span><br /> +HUGGLE DUGGLE.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From Durfey’s “Pills to +Purge Melancholy.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Frier Bacon</i> walks again,<br /> + And Doctor <i>Forster</i> <a +name="citation99"></a><a href="#footnote99" +class="citation">[99]</a> too;<br /> +<i>Prosperine</i> and <i>Pluto</i>,<br /> + And many a goblin crew:<br /> +With that a merry devil,<br /> + To make the <i>Airing</i>, vow’d;<br /> + Huggle Duggle, Ha! ha! ha!<br /> + The Devil laugh’d aloud.</p> +<p class="poetry">Why think you that he laugh’d?<br /> + Forsooth he came from court;<br /> +<a name="page195"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 195</span>And +there amongst the gallants<br /> + Had spy’d such pretty sport;<br /> +There was such cunning jugling,<br /> + And ladys gon so proud;<br /> + Huggle Duggle, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With that into the city<br /> + Away the Devil went;<br /> +To view the merchants’ dealings<br /> + It was his full intent:<br /> +And there along the brave Exchange<br /> + He crept into the croud.<br /> + Huggle Duggle, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">He went into the city<br /> + To see all there was well;<br /> +Their scales were false, their weights were light,<br /> + Their conscience fit for hell;<br /> +And <i>Panders</i> chosen magistrates,<br /> + And <i>Puritans</i> allow’d.<br /> + Huggle Duggle, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With that unto the country<br /> + Away the Devil goeth;<br /> +For there is all plain dealing,<br /> + For that the Devil knoweth:<br /> +But the rich man reaps the gains<br /> + For which the poor man plough’d.<br /> + Huggle Duggle, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">With that the Devil in haste<br /> + Took post away to hell,<br /> +And call’d his fellow furies,<br /> + And told them all on earth was well:<br /> +<a name="page196"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 196</span>That +falsehood there did flourish,<br /> + Plain dealing was in a cloud.<br /> + Huggle Duggle, Ha! ha! ha!<br /> + The devils laugh’d aloud.</p> +<h3>A BOTTLE DEFINITION OF THAT FALLEN ANGEL, CALLED A WHIG.</h3> +<p>From a collection of Historical and State Poems, Satyrs, +Songs, and Epigrams, by Ned Ward, <span class="GutSmall">A. +D.</span> 1717.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">What</span> is a +Whig? A cunning rogue<br /> +That once was in, now out of vogue:<br /> +A rebel to the Church and throne,<br /> +Of Lucifer the very spawn.</p> +<p class="poetry">A tyrant, who is ne’er at rest<br /> +In power, or when he’s dispossess’d;<br /> +A knave, who foolishly has lost<br /> +What so much blood and treasure cost.</p> +<p class="poetry">A lying, bouncing desperado,<br /> +A bomb, a stink-pot, a granado;<br /> +That’s ready primed, and charged to break,<br /> +And mischief do for mischief’s sake:</p> +<p class="poetry">A comet, whose portending phiz<br /> +Appears more dreadful than it is;<br /> +But now propitious stars repel<br /> +Those ills it lastly did fortel.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Twill burst with unregarded spight,<br +/> +And, since the Parliament proves right,<br /> +Will turn to smoke, which shone of late<br /> +So bright and flaming in the State.</p> +<h3><a name="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 197</span>THE +DESPONDING WHIG.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From Ned Ward’s Works, vol. +iv. 1709.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">When</span> owles are +strip’d of their disguise,<br /> + And wolves of shepherd’s cloathing,<br /> +Those birds and beasts that please our eyes<br /> + Will then beget our loathing;<br /> +When foxes tremble in their holes<br /> + At dangers that they see,<br /> +And those we think so wise prove fools,<br /> + Then low, boys, down go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">If those designs abortive prove<br /> + We’ve been so long in hatching,<br /> +And cunning knaves are forced to move<br /> + From home for fear of catching;<br /> +The rabble soon will change their tone<br /> + When our intrigues they see,<br /> +And cry God save the Church and Throne,<br /> + Then low, boys, down go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">The weaver then no more must leave<br /> + His loom and turn a preacher,<br /> +Nor with his cant poor fools deceive<br /> + To make himself the richer.<br /> +Our leaders soon would disappear<br /> + If such a change should be,<br /> +Our scriblers too would stink for fear,<br /> + Then low, boys, down go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">No canvisars would dare to shew<br /> + Their postures and grimaces,<br /> +Or proph’sy what they never knew,<br /> + By dint of ugly faces.<br /> +<a name="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 198</span>But +shove the tumbler through the town,<br /> + And quickly banish’d be,<br /> +For none must teach without a gown,<br /> + Then low, boys, down go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">If such unhappy days should come,<br /> + Our virtue, moderation,<br /> +Would surely be repaid us home<br /> + With double compensation;<br /> +For as we never could forgive,<br /> + I fear we then should see<br /> +That what we lent we must receive,<br /> + Then low, boys, down go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">Should honest brethren once discern<br /> + Our knaveries, they’d disown us,<br /> +And bubbl’d fools more wit should learn,<br /> + The Lord have mercy on us;<br /> +Let’s guard against that evil day,<br /> + Least such a time should be,<br /> +And tackers should come into play,<br /> + Then low, boys, down go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">Tho’ hitherto we’ve play’d +our parts<br /> + Like wary cunning foxes,<br /> +And gain’d the common people’s hearts<br /> + By broaching het’rodoxes,—<br /> +But they’re as fickle as the winds,<br /> + With nothing long agree,<br /> +And when they change their wav’ring minds,<br /> + Then low, boys, down go we.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let’s preach and pray, but spit our +gall<br /> + On those that do oppose us,<br /> +And cant of grace, in spite of all<br /> + The shame the Devil owes us:<br /> +<a name="page199"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 199</span>The +just, the loyal, and the wise<br /> + With us shall Papists be,<br /> +For if the <i>High Church</i> once should rise,<br /> + Then, <i>Low Church</i>, down go we.</p> +<h3>PHANATICK ZEAL,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR</span><br /> +A LOOKING-GLASS FOR THE WHIGS.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From a Collection of 180 Loyal +Songs.<br /> +Tune, “A Swearing we will go.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Who</span> would not be a +Tory<br /> + When the loyal are call’d so:<br /> +And a Whig now is known<br /> + To be the nation’s foe?<br /> + So a Tory I will be, will be,<br +/> + And a Tory I will be.</p> +<p class="poetry">With little band precise,<br /> + Hair Presbyterian cut,<br /> +Whig turns up hands and eyes<br /> + Though smoking hot from slut.<br /> + So a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Black cap turn’d up with white,<br /> + With wolfish neck and face,<br /> +And mouth with nonsense stuft,<br /> + Speaks Whig a man of grace,<br /> + And a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page200"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +200</span>The sisters go to meetings<br /> + To meet their gallants there;<br /> +And oft mistake for my Lord,<br /> + And snivel out my dear.<br /> + And a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Example, we do own,<br /> + Than precept better is;<br /> +For Creswell she was safe,<br /> + When she lived a private Miss.<br /> + And a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Whigs, though ne’er so proud,<br /> + Sometimes have been as low,<br /> +For there are some of note<br /> + Have long a raree-show.<br /> + And a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">These mushrooms now have got<br /> + Their champion turn-coat hick;<br /> +But if the naked truth were known<br /> + They’re assisted by old Nick.<br /> + And a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">To be and to be not<br /> + At once is in their power;<br /> +For when they’re in, they’re guilty,<br /> + But clear when out o’ the tower.<br /> + And a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">To carry their designs,<br /> + Though ’t contradicts their sense;<br /> +They’re clear a Whiggish traytor<br /> + Against clear evidence.<br /> + And a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page201"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +201</span>The old proverb doth us tell,<br /> + Each dog will have his day;<br /> +And Whig has had his too,<br /> + For which he’ll soundly pay;<br /> + And a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">For bodkins and for thimbles<br /> + Now let your tubsters cant;<br /> +Their confounded tired cause<br /> + Had never yet more want.<br /> + So a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">For ignoramus Toney<br /> + Has left you in the lurch;<br /> +And you have spent your money,<br /> + So, faith, e’en come to Church;<br /> + For a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">They are of no religion,<br /> + Be it spoken to their glories,<br /> +For St Peter and St Paul<br /> + With them both are Tories;<br /> + And a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">They’re excellent contrivers,<br /> + I wonder what they’re not,<br /> +For something they can make<br /> + Of nothing and a plot.<br /> + And a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">But now your holy cheat<br /> + Is known throughout the nation;<br /> +And a Whig is known to be<br /> + A thing quite out of fashion.<br /> + And a Tory I will be, etc.</p> +<h3><a name="page202"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 202</span>A +NEW GAME AT CARDS:<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR,</span><br /> +WIN AT FIRST AND LOSE AT LAST.</h3> +<p>A popular ballad, written immediately after the restoration of +Charles II.; and in which the victorious Cavaliers render honour +to General Monk, Duke of Albemarle.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Tune, “Ye gallants that +delight to play.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Ye</span> merry hearts that +love to play<br /> +At cards, see who hath won the day;<br /> +You that once did sadly sing<br /> +The knave of clubs hath won the king;<br /> +Now more happy times we have,<br /> +The king hath overcome the knave.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not long ago a game was play’d,<br /> +When three crowns at the stakes were laid;<br /> +England had no cause to boast,<br /> +Knaves won that which kings had lost:<br /> +Coaches gave the way to carts,<br /> +And clubs were better cards than hearts.</p> +<p class="poetry">Old Noll was the knave o’ clubs,<br /> +And dad of such as preach in tubs;<br /> +Bradshaw, Ireton, and Pride<br /> +Were three other knaves beside;<br /> +And they play’d with half the pack,<br /> +Throwing out all cards but black.</p> +<p class="poetry">But the just Fates threw these four out,<br /> +Which made the loyal party shout;<br /> +The Pope would fain have had the stock,<br /> +And with these cards have whipt his dock.<br /> +But soon the Devil these cards snatches<br /> +To dip in brimstone, and make matches.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page203"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +203</span>But still the sport for to maintain,<br /> +Bold Lambert, Haslerigg, and Vane,<br /> +With one-eyed Hewson, took their places,<br /> +Knaves were better cards than aces;<br /> +But Fleetwood he himself did save,<br /> +Because he was more fool than knave.</p> +<p class="poetry">Cromwell, though he so much had won,<br /> +Yet he had an unlucky son;<br /> +He sits still, and not regards,<br /> +Whilst cunning gamesters set the cards;<br /> +And thus, alas! poor silly Dick,<br /> +He play’d awhile, and lost his trick.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Rumpers that had won whole towns,<br /> +The spoils of martyrs and of crowns,<br /> +Were not contented, but grew rough,<br /> +As though they had not won enough;<br /> +They kept the cards still in their hands,<br /> +To play for tithes and college lands.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Presbyters began to fret<br /> +That they were like to lose the sett;<br /> +Unto the Rump they did appeal,<br /> +And said it was their turn to deal;<br /> +Then dealt with Presbyterians, but<br /> +The army swore that they would cut.</p> +<p class="poetry">The foreign lands began to wonder,<br /> +To see what gallants we lived under,<br /> +That they, which Christians did forswear,<br /> +Should follow gaming all the year,—<br /> +Nay more, which was the strangest thing,<br /> +To play so long without a king.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page204"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +204</span>The bold phanatics present were,<br /> +Like butlers with their boxes there,<br /> +Not doubting but that every game<br /> +Some profit would redound to them;<br /> +Because they were the gamesters’ minions,<br /> +And every day broach’d new opinions.</p> +<p class="poetry">But Cheshire men (as stories say)<br /> +Began to show them gamester’s play;<br /> +Brave Booth and all his army strives<br /> +To save the stakes, or lose their lives;<br /> +But, oh sad fate! they were undone<br /> +By playing of their cards too soon.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thus all the while a club was trump,<br /> +There’s none could ever beat the Rump,<br /> +Until a noble general came,<br /> +And gave the cheaters a clear slam;<br /> +His finger did outwit their noddy,<br /> +And screw’d up poor Jack Lambert’s body.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then Haslerigg began to scowl,<br /> +And said the general play’d foul.<br /> +Look to him, partners, for I tell ye,<br /> +This Monk has got a king in’s belly.<br /> +Not so, quoth Monk, but I believe<br /> +Sir Arthur has a knave in’s sleeve.</p> +<p class="poetry">When General Monk did understand<br /> +The Rump were peeping into’s hand,<br /> +He wisely kept his cards from sight,<br /> +Which put the Rump into a fright;<br /> +He saw how many were betray’d<br /> +That show’d their cards before they play’d.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +205</span>At length, quoth he, some cards we lack,<br /> +I will not play with half a pack;<br /> +What you cast out I will bring in,<br /> +And a new game we will begin:<br /> +With that the standers-by did say<br /> +They never yet saw fairer play.</p> +<p class="poetry">But presently this game was past,<br /> +And for a second knaves were cast;<br /> +All new cards, not stain’d with spots,<br /> +As was the Rumpers and the Scots,—<br /> +Here good gamesters play’d their parts<br /> +And turn’d up the king of hearts.</p> +<p class="poetry">After this game was done, I think<br /> +The standers-by had cause to drink,<br /> +And all loyal subjects sing,<br /> +Farewell knaves, and welcome King;<br /> +For, till we saw the King return’d,<br /> +We wish’d the cards had all been burn’d.</p> +<h3>THE CAVALEERS LITANY.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">(March 25th, 1660.)—From the +King’s Pamphlets, British Museum.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">From</span> pardons which +extend to woods,<br /> +Entitle thieves to keep our goods,<br /> +Forgive our rents as well as bloods,<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page206"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +206</span>From judges who award that none<br /> +Of our oppressours should attone<br /> +(The losses sure were not their own),<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From Christians which can soon forget<br /> +Our injuries, but not one bit<br /> +Of self-concernment would remit,<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From duresse, and their dolefull tale,<br /> +Who, famisht by a lawless sale,<br /> +Compounded it for cakes and ale,<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From persons still to tread the stage,<br /> +Who did the drudgeries of our age<br /> +(Such counsells are, I fear, too sage),<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From maximes which (to make all sure)<br /> +With great rewards the bad allure,<br /> +’Cause of the good they are secure,<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From cunning gamesters, who, they say,<br /> +Are sure to winne, what-e’re they play;<br /> +In April Lambert, Charles in May,<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From neuters and their leven’d lump,<br +/> +Who name the King and mean the Rump,<br /> +Or care not much what card is trump,<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page207"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +207</span>From midnight-birds, who lye at catch<br /> +Some plume from monarchy to snatch,<br /> +And from fond youths that cannot watch,<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From brethren who must still dissent,<br /> +Whose froward gospell brooks no Lent,<br /> +And who recant, but ne’er repent,<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From Levites void of truth and shame,<br /> +Who to the time their pulpits frame,<br /> +And keep the style but change the name,<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From men by heynous crimes made rich,<br /> +Who (though their hopes are in the ditch)<br /> +Have still th’ old fornicatours itch,<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">From such as freely paid th’ arrears<br +/> +Of the State-troops for many years,<br /> +But grudge one tax for Cavaleers,<br /> + + +God bless, etc.</p> +<h3>THE SECOND PART.</h3> +<p class="poetry">A <span class="smcap">crown</span> of gold +without allay,<br /> +Not here provided for one day,<br /> +But framed above to last for aye!<br /> + + +God send, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +208</span>A Queen to fill the empty place,<br /> +And multiply his noble race,<br /> +Wee all beseech the throne of grace<br /> + + +To send, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">A people still as true and kind<br /> +As late (when for their King they pin’d),<br /> +Not fickle as the tide or wild,<br /> + + +God send, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">A fleet like that in fifty-three,<br /> +To re-assert our power at sea,<br /> +And make proud Flemings bend their knee,<br /> + + +God send, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Full magazines and cash in store,<br /> +That such as wrought his fate before<br /> +May hope to do the same no more,<br /> + + +God send, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">A searching judgement to divine,<br /> +Of persons whether they do joyn<br /> +For love, for fear, or for design,<br /> + + +God send, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">A well-complexion’d Parliament,<br /> +That shall (like Englishmen) resent<br /> +What loyall subjects underwent,<br /> + + +God send, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Review of statutes lately past,<br /> +Made in such heat, pen’d in such hast,<br /> +That all events were not forecast,<br /> + + +God send, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page209"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +209</span>Dispatch of businesse, lawes upright,<br /> +And favour where it stands with right,<br /> +(Be their purses ne’er so light),<br /> + + +God send, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">A raven to supply their need,<br /> +Whose martyrdom (like noble seed)<br /> +Sprung up at length and choak’t the weed,<br /> + + +God send, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The King and kingdom’s debts +defray’d,<br /> +And those of honest men well pay’d,<br /> +To which their vertue them betray’d,<br /> + + +God send, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Increase of customes to the King<br /> +May our increase of traffick bring,<br /> +’Tis that will make the people sing<br /> + + +Long live, etc.</p> +<p>London, printed for Robert Crofts, at the Crown, in Chancery +Lane, 1661.</p> +<h3>THE CAVALIER’S COMPLAINT.</h3> +<p>This and the following ballad, from the King’s +Pamphlets, British Museum, express the discontent of the +Cavaliers at the ingratitude of King Charles to the old +supporters of the fortunes of his family.—(March 15th, +1660.)</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “I tell thee, +Dick.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span>, Jack, +let’s drink a pot of ale,<br /> +And I shall tell thee such a tale<br /> + Will make thine ears to ring;<br /> +<a name="page210"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 210</span>My coyne +is spent, my time is lost,<br /> +And I this only fruit can boast,<br /> + That once I saw my King.</p> +<p class="poetry">But this doth most afflict my mind:<br /> +I went to Court in hope to find<br /> + Some of my friends in place;<br /> +And walking there, I had a sight<br /> +Of all the crew, but, by this light!<br /> + I hardly knew one face.</p> +<p class="poetry">’S’life! of so many noble +sparkes,<br /> +Who on their bodies bear the markes<br /> + Of their integritie;<br /> +And suffer’d ruine of estate,<br /> +It was my damn’d unhappy fate<br /> + That I not one could see.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not one, upon my life, among<br /> +My old acquaintance all along<br /> + At Truro and before;<br /> +And I suppose the place can show<br /> +As few of those whom thou didst know<br /> + At Yorke or Marston-moore.</p> +<p class="poetry">But truly there are swarmes of those<br /> +Who lately were our chiefest foes,<br /> + Of pantaloons and muffes;<br /> +Whilst the old rusty Cavaleer<br /> +Retires, or dares not once appear,<br /> + For want of coyne and cuffes.</p> +<p class="poetry">When none of these I could descry,<br /> +Who better far deserv’d then I,<br /> + Calmely I did reflect;<br /> +<a name="page211"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +211</span>“Old services (by rule of State)<br /> +Like almanacks grow out of date,—<br /> + What then can I expect?”</p> +<p class="poetry">Troth! in contempt of Fortune’s frown,<br +/> +I’ll get me fairly out of town,<br /> + And in a cloyster pray;<br /> +That since the starres are yet unkind<br /> +To Royalists, the King may find<br /> + More faithfull friends than they.</p> +<h3>AN ECHO TO THE CAVALIER’S COMPLAINT.</h3> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">marvel</span>, Dick, that +having been<br /> +So long abroad, and having seen<br /> + The world as thou hast done,<br /> +Thou should’st acquaint mee with a tale<br /> +As old as Nestor, and as stale<br /> + As that of Priest and Nunne. <a +name="citation100"></a><a href="#footnote100" +class="citation">[100]</a></p> +<p class="poetry">Are we to learn what is a Court?<br /> +A pageant made for fortune’s sport,<br /> + Where merits scarce appear;<br /> +For bashfull merit only dwells<br /> +In camps, in villages, and cells;<br /> + Alas! it dwells not there.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page212"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +212</span>Desert is nice in its addresse,<br /> +And merit ofttimes doth oppresse<br /> + Beyond what guilt would do;<br /> +But they are sure of their demands<br /> +That come to Court with golden hands,<br /> + And brazen faces, too.</p> +<p class="poetry">The King, they say, doth still professe<br /> +To give his party some redresse,<br /> + And cherish honestie;<br /> +But his good wishes prove in vain,<br /> +Whose service with his servants’ gain<br /> + Not alwayes doth agree.</p> +<p class="poetry">All princes (be they ne’er so wise)<br /> +Are fain to see with others’ eyes,<br /> + But seldom hear at all;<br /> +And courtiers find their interest<br /> +In time to feather well their nest,<br /> + Providing for their fall.</p> +<p class="poetry">Our comfort doth on time depend,<br /> +Things when they are at worst will mend;<br /> + And let us but reflect<br /> +On our condition th’ other day,<br /> +When none but tyrants bore the sway,<br /> + What did we then expect?</p> +<p class="poetry">Meanwhile a calm retreat is best,<br /> +But discontent (if not supprest)<br /> + Will breed disloyaltie;<br /> +This is the constant note I sing,<br /> +I have been faithful to the King,<br /> + And so shall ever be.</p> +<p>London, printed for Robert Crofts, at the Crown, in Chancery +Lane, 1661.</p> +<h3><a name="page213"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 213</span>A +RELATION.</h3> +<p>Of Ten grand infamous Traytors, who, for their horrid murder +and detestable villany against our late soveraigne Lord King +Charles the First, that ever blessed martyr, were arraigned, +tryed, and executed in the moneth of October, 1660, which in +perpetuity will be had in remembrance unto the world’s +end.</p> +<p>This is one of the Six Ballads of the Restoration found in a +trunk, and sent by Sir W. C. Trevelyan to the British +Museum. “No measure threw more disgrace on the +Restoration,” says Mr Wright, “than the prosecution +of the regicides; and the heartless and sanguinary manner in +which it was conducted tended more than any other circumstance to +open the eyes of the people to the real character of the +government to which they had been betrayed.” Pepys +observes on the 20th Oct., “A bloody week this and the last +have been; there being ten hanged, drawn, and +quartered.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">The tune is “Come let us +drinke, the time invites.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Hee</span> that can impose +a thing,<br /> + And shew forth a reason<br /> +For what was done against the King,<br /> + From the palace to the prison;<br /> +Let him here with me recite,<br /> +For my pen is bent to write<br /> + The horrid facts of treason.</p> +<p class="poetry">Since there is no learned scribe<br /> + Nor arithmaticion<br /> +Ever able to decide<br /> + The usurp’d base ambition,<br /> +Which in truth I shall declare,<br /> +Traytors here which lately were,<br /> + Who wanted a phisitian.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page214"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +214</span>For the grand disease that bred<br /> + Nature could not weane it;<br /> +From the foot unto the head,<br /> + Was putrefacted treason in it;<br /> +Doctors could no cure give,<br /> +Which made the squire then beleeve<br /> + That he must first begin it.</p> +<p class="poetry">And the phisick did compose,<br /> + Within a pound of reason;<br /> +First to take away the cause,<br /> + Then to purge away the treason,<br /> +With a dosse of hemp made up,<br /> +Wrought as thickly as a rope,<br /> + And given them in due season.</p> +<p class="poetry">The doctors did prescribe at last<br /> + To give ’um this potation,<br /> +A vomit or a single cast,<br /> + Well deserved, in purgation;<br /> +After that to lay them downe,<br /> +And bleed a veine in every one,<br /> + As traytors of the nation.</p> +<p class="poetry">So when first the physicke wrought,<br /> + The thirteenth of October, <a +name="citation101"></a><a href="#footnote101" +class="citation">[101]</a><br /> +The patient on a sledge was brought,<br /> + Like a rebell and a rover,<br /> +<a name="page215"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 215</span>To the +execution tree;<br /> +Where with much dexterity<br /> + Was gently turned over.</p> +<h4>THE SECOND PART.</h4> +<p style="text-align: center">To the same tune.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Monday</span> was the +fifteenth day,<br /> + As Carew then did follow, <a +name="citation102"></a><a href="#footnote102" +class="citation">[102]</a><br /> +Of whom all men I thinke might say<br /> + In tyranny did deeply wallow;<br /> +Traytor proved unto the King,<br /> +Which made him on the gallowes swing,<br /> + And all the people hallow.</p> +<p class="poetry">Tuesday, after Peters, Cooke, <a +name="citation103"></a><a href="#footnote103" +class="citation">[103]</a><br /> + Two notorious traytors,<br /> +That brought our soveraigne to the blocke,<br /> + For which were hang’d and cut in quarters;<br +/> +’Twas Cooke which wrought the bloody thing<br /> +To draw the charge against our King,<br /> + That ever blessed martyr.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page216"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +216</span>Next, on Wednesday, foure came,<br /> + For murthur all imputed,<br /> +There to answer for the same,<br /> + Which in judgement were confuted.<br /> +Gregorie Clement, Jones, and Scot,<br /> +And Scroop together, for a plot, <a name="citation104"></a><a +href="#footnote104" class="citation">[104]</a><br /> + Likewise were executed.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thursday past, and Friday then,<br /> + To end the full conclusion,<br /> +And make the traytors just up ten,<br /> + That day were brought to execution,<br /> +Hacker and proud Axtell he, <a name="citation105"></a><a +href="#footnote105" class="citation">[105]</a><br /> +At Tyburne for their treachery<br /> + Received their absolution.</p> +<p class="poetry">Being against the King and States,<br /> + The Commons all condemn’d ’um,<br /> +And their quarters on the gates<br /> + Hangeth for a memorandum<br /> +<a name="page217"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +217</span>’Twixt the heavens and the earth;<br /> +Traytors are so little worth,<br /> + To dust and smoake wee’l send ’um.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let now October warning make<br /> + To bloody-minded traytors,<br /> +That never phisicke more they take,<br /> + For in this moneth they lost their quarters;<br /> +Being so against the King,<br /> +Which to murther they did bring,<br /> + The ever blessed martyr.</p> +<p>London, printed for Fr. Coles, T. Vere, M. Wright, and W. +Gilbertson.</p> +<h3>THE GLORY OF THESE NATIONS;</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Or, King and peoples happinesse. +Being a brief relation of King Charles’s royall progresse +from Dover to London, how the Lord Generall and the Lord Mayor, +with all the nobility and gentry of the land, brought him thorow +the famous city of London to his pallace at Westminster, the 29th +of May last, being his Majesties birth-day, to the great comfort +of his loyall subjects</span>.</p> +<p>One of the six curious broadsides found by Sir W. C. Trevelyan +in the lining of a trunk, and now in the British Museum.</p> +<p>The new Parliament met on the twenty-fifth of April, and on +the first of May the King’s letter from Breda was read, and +the Restoration determined by a vote of the House. The King +immediately repaired to the coast, and, after meeting with some +obstruction from the roughness of the weather, went on <a +name="page218"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 218</span>board the +<i>Nazeby</i> on the 23rd of May. On the 25th he landed at +Dover. He made his entry into London on the 29th.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “When the King +enjoys his own again.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Where’s</span> those +that did prognosticate,<br /> +And did envy fair England’s state,<br /> +And said King Charles no more should reign?<br /> +Their predictions were but in vain,<br /> + For the King is now return’d,<br /> + For whom fair England mourn’d;<br /> +His nobles royally him entertain.<br /> + Now blessed be the day!<br /> + Thus do his subjects say,<br /> +That God hath brought him home again.</p> +<p class="poetry">The twenty-second of lovely May<br /> +At Dover arrived, fame doth say,<br /> +Where our most noble generall<br /> +Did on his knees before him fall,<br /> + Craving to kiss his hand,<br /> + So soon as he did land.<br /> +Royally they did him entertain,<br /> + With all their pow’r and might,<br /> + To bring him to his right,<br /> +And place him in his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then the King, I understand,<br /> +Did kindly take him by the hand<br /> +And lovingly did him embrace,<br /> +Rejoycing for to see his face.<br /> + Hee lift him from the ground<br /> + With joy that did abound,<br /> +And graciously did him entertain;<br /> + Rejoycing that once more<br /> + He was o’ th’ English shore,<br /> +To enjoy his own in peace again.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page219"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +219</span>From Dover to Canterbury they past,<br /> +And so to Cobham-hall at last;<br /> +From thence to London march amain,<br /> +With a triumphant and glorious train,<br /> + Where he was received with joy,<br /> + His sorrow to destroy,<br /> +In England once more for to raign;<br /> + Now all men do sing,<br /> + God save Charles our King,<br /> +That now enjoyes his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry">At Deptford the maidens they<br /> +Stood all in white by the high-way<br /> +Their loyalty to Charles to show,<br /> +They with sweet flowers his way to strew.<br /> + Each wore a ribbin blew,<br /> + They were of comely hue,<br /> +With joy they did him entertain,<br /> + With acclamations to the skye<br /> + As the King passed by,<br /> +For joy that he receives his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry">In Wallworth-fields a gallant band<br /> +Of London ’prentices did stand,<br /> +All in white dublets very gay,<br /> +To entertain King Charles that day,<br /> + With muskets, swords, and pike;<br /> + I never saw the like,<br /> +Nor a more youthfull gallant train;<br /> + They up their hats did fling,<br /> + And cry, “God save the King!<br /> +Now he enjoys his own again.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page220"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +220</span>At Newington-Buts the Lord Mayor willed<br /> +A famous booth for to be builded,<br /> +Where King Charles did make a stand,<br /> +And received the sword into his hand;<br /> + Which his Majesty did take,<br /> + And then returned back<br /> +Unto the Mayor with love again.<br /> + A banquet they him make,<br /> + He doth thereof partake,<br /> +Then marcht his triumphant train.</p> +<p class="poetry">The King with all his noblemen,<br /> +Through Southwark they marched then;<br /> +First marched Major Generall Brown, <a name="citation106"></a><a +href="#footnote106" class="citation">[106]</a><br /> +Then Norwich Earle of great renown, <a name="citation107"></a><a +href="#footnote107" class="citation">[107]</a><br /> + With many a valiant knight<br /> + And gallant men of might,<br /> +Richly attired, marching amain,<br /> + There Lords Mordin, Gerard, and<br /> + The good Earle of Cleavland, <a +name="citation108"></a><a href="#footnote108" +class="citation">[108]</a><br /> +To bring the King to his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page221"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +221</span>Near sixty flags and streamers then<br /> +Was born before a thousand men,<br /> +In plush coats and chaines of gold,<br /> +These were most rich for to behold;<br /> + With every man his page,<br /> + The glory of his age;<br /> +With courage bold they marcht amain,<br /> + Then with gladnesse they<br /> + Brought the King on his way<br /> +For to enjoy his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then Lichfields and Darbyes Earles, <a +name="citation109"></a><a href="#footnote109" +class="citation">[109]</a><br /> +Two of fair England’s royall pearles;<br /> +Major Generall Massey then<br /> +Commanded the life guard of men,<br /> + The King for to defend,<br /> + If any should contend,<br /> +Or seem his comming to restrain;<br /> + But also joyfull were<br /> + That no such durst appear,<br /> +Now the King enjoyes his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry">Four rich maces before them went,<br /> +And many heralds well content;<br /> +The Lord Mayor and the generall<br /> +Did march before the King withall.<br /> + <a name="page222"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +222</span>His brothers on each side<br /> + Along by him did ride;<br /> +The Southwark-waits did play amain,<br /> + Which made them all to smile<br /> + And to stand still awhile,<br /> +And then they marched on again.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then with drawn swords all men did side,<br /> +And flourishing the same, then cryed,<br /> +“Charles the Second now God save,<br /> +That he his lawfull right may have!<br /> + And we all on him attend,<br /> + From dangers him to defend,<br /> +And all that with him doth remain.<br /> + Blessed be God that we<br /> + Did live these days to see,<br /> +That the King enjoyes his own again!”</p> +<p class="poetry">The bells likewise did loudly ring,<br /> +Bonefires did burn and people sing;<br /> +London conduits did run with wine,<br /> +And all men do to Charles incline;<br /> + Hoping now that all<br /> + Unto their trades may fall,<br /> +Their famylies for to maintain,<br /> + And from wrong be free,<br /> + ’Cause we have liv’d to see<br /> +The King enjoy his own again.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">London, printed for Charles Tyns, +on London Bridge.</p> +<h3><a name="page223"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 223</span>THE +NOBLE PROGRESS,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR,</span><br /> +A TRUE RELATION OF THE LORD<br /> +GENERAL MONK’S POLITICAL<br /> +PROCEEDINGS.</h3> +<p>The Noble Progresse, or a True Relation of the Lord General +Monk’s Political Proceedings with the Rump, the calling in +the secluded Members, their transcendant vote for his sacred +Majesty, with his reception at Dover, and royal conduct through +the City of London to his famous Palace at Whitehall. One +of the broadsides in the British Museum, found in the lining of +an old trunk by Sir W. C. Trevelyan.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Tune—“When first the +Scottish wars began.”</p> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Good</span> people, hearken to my call,<br /> + I’le tell you all what did befall<br /> + And hapned of late;<br /> + Our noble valiant General Monk<br /> + Came to the Rump, who lately stunk<br /> + With their council of state.<br /> +Admiring what this man would doe,<br /> +His secret mind there’s none could know,<br /> +They div’d into him as much as they could,—<br /> +George would not be won with their silver nor gold:<br /> +The sectarian saints at this lookt blew,<br /> +With all the rest of the factious crew,<br /> +They vapour’d awhile, and were in good hope,<br /> +But now they have nothing left but the rope.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Another invention then they +sought,<br /> + Which long they wrought for to be brought<br /> + To claspe him with they;<br /> + Quoth Vane and Scot, I’le tell you what,<br /> + Wee’l have a plot and he shall not,<br /> + Wee’l carry the sway:<br /> +<a name="page224"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +224</span>Let’s vote him a thousand pound a yeare,<br /> +And Hampton Court for him and his Heire.<br /> +Indeed, quoth George, ye’re Free Parliament men<br /> +To cut a thong out of another man’s skin.<br /> + The sectarian, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> They sent him then with all +his hosts<br /> + To break our posts and raise our ghosts,<br /> + Which was their intent;<br /> + To cut our gates and chain all downe<br /> + Unto the ground—this trick they found<br /> + To make him be shent:<br /> +This plot the Rump did so accord<br /> +To cast an odium on my lord,<br /> +But in the task he was hard put untoo’t,<br /> +’Twas enough to infect both his horse and his foot,<br /> + The sectarian, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> But when my lord perceived +that night<br /> + What was their spight, he brought to light<br /> + Their knaveries all;<br /> + This Parliament of forty-eight,<br /> + Which long did wait, came to him straight,<br /> + To give them a fall,<br /> +And some phanatical people knew<br /> +That George would give them their fatall due;<br /> +Indeed he did requite them agen,<br /> +For he pul’d the Monster out of his den.<br /> + The sectarian, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> To the House our worthy +Parliament<br /> + With good intent they boldly went<br /> + To vote home the King,<br /> + <a name="page225"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +225</span>And many hundred people more<br /> + Stood at the doore, and waited for<br /> + Good tidings to bring;<br /> +Yet some in the House had their hands much in blood,<br /> +And in great opposition like traytors they stood;<br /> +But yet I believe it is very well known<br /> +That those that were for him were twenty to one.<br /> + But the sectarian, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> They call’d the League +and Covenant in<br /> + To read again to every man;<br /> + But what comes next?<br /> + All sequestrations null be void,<br /> + The people said none should be paid,<br /> + For this was the text.<br /> +For, as I heard all the people say,<br /> +They voted King Charles the first of May;<br /> +Bonfires burning, bells did ring,<br /> +And our streets did echo with God bless ye King.<br /> + At this the sectarian, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Our general then to Dover +goes,<br /> + In spite of foes or deadly blowes,<br /> + Saying Vive le Roy;<br /> + And all the glories of the land,<br /> + At his command they there did stand<br /> + In triumph and joy.<br /> +Good Lord, what a sumptuous sight ’twas to see<br /> +Our good Lord General fall on his knee<br /> +To welcome home his Majestie,<br /> +And own his sacred sovereignty.<br /> + But the sectarian, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <a name="page226"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 226</span>When all the worthy noble train<br +/> + Came back again with Charlemain,<br /> + Our sovereign great:<br /> + The Lord Mayor in his scarlet gown,<br /> + His chain so long, went through the town<br /> + In pompe and state.<br /> +The livery-men each line the way<br /> +Upon this great triumphant day;<br /> +Five rich maces carried before,<br /> +And my Lord himselfe the sword he bore.<br /> +Then Vive le Roy the gentry did sing,<br /> +For General Monk rode next to the King;<br /> +With acclamations, shouts, and cryes,<br /> +I thought they would have rent the skyes.</p> +<p class="poetry"> The conduits, ravished with +joy,<br /> + As I may say, did run all day<br /> + Great plenty of wine;<br /> + And every gentleman of note<br /> + In’s velvet coat that could be got<br /> + In glory did shine.<br /> +There were all the peeres and barrons bold,<br /> +Richly clad in silver and gold,<br /> +Marched through the street so brave,<br /> +No greater pompe a king could have.<br /> + At this, the sacristan, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> And thus conducted all +along<br /> + Throughout the throng, still he did come<br /> + Unto White Hall;<br /> + Attended by those noble-men,<br /> + Bold heroes’ kin that brought him in<br /> + With the geneall;<br /> +Who was the man that brought him home<br /> +And placed him on his royal throne;—<br /> +<a name="page227"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +227</span>’Twas General Monk did doe the thing,<br /> +So God preserve our gracious King,<br /> + Now the sacristan, etc.</p> +<h3>ON THE KING’S RETURN.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By Alex. Brome.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Long</span> have we waited +for a happy end<br /> + Of all our miseries and strife;—<br /> +But still in vain;—the swordmen did intend<br /> + To make them hold for term of life:<br /> +That our distempers might be made<br /> +Their everlasting livelihood and trade.</p> +<p class="poetry">They entail their swords and guns,<br /> + And pay, which wounded more,<br /> +Upon their daughters and their sons,<br /> + Thereby to keep us ever poor.</p> +<p class="poetry">But when the Civil Wars were past,<br /> + They civil government invade,<br /> +To make our taxes and our slavery last,<br /> + Both to their titles and their trade.</p> +<p class="poetry">But now we are redeem’d from all<br /> + By our indulgent King,<br /> +Whose coming does prevent our fall,<br /> + With loyal and with joyful hearts we’ll +sing:</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><a name="page228"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 228</span><span +class="GutSmall">CHORUS,</span></p> +<p class="poetry">Welcome, welcome, royal May,<br /> + Welcome, long-desired Spring.<br /> + Many Springs and Mays we’ve seen,<br /> + Have brought forth what’s gay and green;<br /> +But none is like this glorious day,<br /> + Which brings forth our gracious King.</p> +<h3>THE BRAVE BARBARY.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">A Ballad by Alex. Brome.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Old</span> England is now a +brave Barbary made,<br /> + And every one has an ambition to ride her;<br /> +King Charles was a horseman that long used the trade,<br /> + But he rode in a snaffle, and that could not guide +her.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then the hungry Scot comes with spur and with +switch,<br /> + And would teach her to run a Geneva career;<br /> +His grooms were all Puritan, Traytor, and Witch,<br /> + But she soon threw them down with their pedlary +geer.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Long Parliament next came all to the +block,<br /> + And they this untameable palfrey would ride;<br /> +<a name="page229"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 229</span>But she +would not bear all that numerous flock,<br /> + At which they were fain themselves to divide.</p> +<p class="poetry">Jack Presbyter first gets the steed by the +head,<br /> + While the reverend Bishops had hold of the +bridle;<br /> +Jack said through the nose they their flockes did not feed,<br /> + But sat still on the beast and grew aged and +idle.</p> +<p class="poetry">And then comes the Rout, with broom-sticks +inspired,<br /> + And pull’d down their graces, their sleeves, +and their train;<br /> +And sets up Sir Jack, who the beast quickly tyr’d<br /> + With a journey to Scotland and thence back +again.</p> +<p class="poetry">Jack rode in a doublet, with a yoke of +prick-ears,<br /> + A cursed splay-mouth and a Covenant spur,<br /> +Rides switching and spurring with jealousies and fears,<br /> + Till the poor famish’d beast was not able to +stir.</p> +<p class="poetry">Next came th’ Independent—a +dev’lish designer,<br /> + And got himself call’d by a holier +name—<br /> +Makes Jack to unhorse, for he was diviner,<br /> + And would make her travel as far’s +Amsterdam.</p> +<p class="poetry">But Nol, a rank-rider, gets first in the +saddle,<br /> + And made her show tricks, and curvate, and +rebound;<br /> +<a name="page230"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 230</span>She +quickly perceived that he rode widdle waddle,<br /> + And like his coach-horses threw his Highness to +ground.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then Dick, being lame, rode holding by the +pummel,<br /> + Not having the wit to get hold of the rein;<br /> +But the jade did so snort at the sight of a Cromwell,<br /> + That poor Dick and his kindred turn’d footmen +again.</p> +<p class="poetry">Next Fleetwood and Vane with their rascally +pack,<br /> + Would every one put their feet in the stirrup;<br /> +But they pull’d the saddle quite off of her back,<br /> + And were all got under her before they were up.</p> +<p class="poetry">At last the King mounts her, and then she stood +still;<br /> + As his Bucephalus, proud of this rider,<br /> +She cheerfully yields to his power and skill<br /> + Who is careful to feed her, and skilful to guide +her.</p> +<h3>A CATCH.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By Alex. Brome. A.D. +1660.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Let’s</span> leave +off our labour, and now let’s go play,<br /> + For this is our time to be jolly;<br /> +Our plagues and our plaguers are both fled away,<br /> + To nourish our griefs is but folly:<br /> + He that +won’t drink and sing<br /> + Is a traytor +to’s King,<br /> +And so he that does not look twenty years younger;<br /> + We’ll look +blythe and trim<br /> + With rejoicing +at him<br /> +That is the restorer and will be the prolonger<br /> +Of all our felicity and health,<br /> +The joy of our hearts, and increase of our wealth.<br /> +’Tis he brings our trading, our trading brings riches,<br +/> +<a name="page231"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 231</span>Our +riches brings honour, at which every mind itches,<br /> +And our riches bring sack, and our sack brings us joy,<br /> +And our joy makes us leap and sing,<br /> + + +Vive le Roy!</p> +<h3>THE TURN-COAT.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By Samuel Butler. 1661.</p> +<p>Several lines in this song were incorporated in the +better-known ballad of the Vicar of Bray, said by Nichols in his +Select Poems to have been written by a soldier in Colonel +Fuller’s troop of dragoons, in the reign of George I. +Butler’s ballad, though unpublished, must therefore have +been known at the time.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “London is a +fine town.”</p> +<p class="poetry">I <span class="smcap">loved</span> no King +since forty-one,<br /> + When Prelacy went down;<br /> +A cloak and band I then put on<br /> + And preach’d against the crown.<br /> +<a name="page232"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 232</span>A +turn-coat is a cunning man<br /> + That cants to admiration,<br /> +And prays for any king to gain<br /> + The people’s approbation.</p> +<p class="poetry">I show’d the paths to heaven untrod,<br +/> + From Popery to refine ’em,<br /> +And taught the people to serve God,<br /> + As if the Devil were in ’em.<br /> + A turn-coat, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">When Charles return’d into our land,<br +/> + The English Church supporter,<br /> +I shifted off my cloak and band,<br /> + And so became a courtier.<br /> + A turn-coat, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The King’s religion I profest,<br /> + And found there was no harm in ’t;<br /> +I cogg’d and flatter’d like the rest,<br /> + Till I had got preferment.<br /> + A turn-coat, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">I taught my conscience how to cope<br /> + With honesty or evil;<br /> +And when I rail’d against the Pope<br /> + I sided with the Devil.<br /> + A turn-coat, etc.</p> +<h3><a name="page233"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 233</span>THE +CLARET DRINKER’S SONG,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR</span><br /> +THE GOOD FELLOW’S DESIGN.</h3> +<p>Being a pleasant song of the times, written by a person of +quality.—From the Roxburgh Ballads, Vol. iii.</p> +<p class="poetry">Wine the most powerfull’st of all things +on earth,<br /> +Which stifles cares and sorrows in their birth;<br /> +No treason in it harbours, nor can hate<br /> +Creep in when it bears away, to hurt the State.<br /> +Though storms grow high, so wine is to be got,<br /> +We are secure, their rage we value not;<br /> +The Muses cherish’d up such nectar, sing<br /> +Eternal joy to him that loves the King.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “Let +Cæsar live long.”</p> +<p class="poetry">A <span class="smcap">pox</span> of the fooling +and plotting of late,<br /> +What a pudder and stir has it kept in the State!<br /> +Let the rabble run mad with suspicions and fears,<br /> +Let ’em scuffle and rail till they go by the +ears,—<br /> +Their grievances never shall trouble my pate,<br /> +So I but enjoy my dear bottle at quiet.</p> +<p class="poetry">What coxcombs were those that would ruin their +case<br /> +And their necks for a toy, a thin wafer, and mass!<br /> +For at Tyburn they never had needed to swing<br /> +Had they been but true subjects to drink and their King:<br /> +A friend and a bottle is all my design,—<br /> +He’s no room for treason that’s top-full of wine.</p> +<p class="poetry">I mind not the members and makers of laws,<br +/> +Let them sit or prorogue as his Majesty please;<br /> +Let ’em damn us to Woolen, I’le never repine<br /> +At my usage when dead, so alive I have wine;<br /> +<a name="page234"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 234</span>Yet oft +in my drink I can hardly forbear<br /> +To blame them for making my claret so dear.</p> +<p class="poetry">I mind not grave allies who idly debate<br /> +About rights and successions, the trifles of State;<br /> +We’ve a good King already, and he deserves laughter<br /> +That will trouble his head with who shall come after:<br /> +Come, here’s to his health! and I wish he may be<br /> +As free from all cares and all troubles as we.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">SECOND +PART.</span></p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">What</span> care I how +leagues with Hollanders go,<br /> +Or intrigues ’twist Mounsieurs or Dons for to?<br /> +What concerns it my drinking if cities be sold,<br /> +If the conqueror takes them by storming or gold?<br /> +From whence claret comes is the place that I mind,<br /> +And when the fleet’s coming I pray for a wind.</p> +<p class="poetry">The bully of France that aspires to renown<br +/> +By dull cutting of throats, and by venturing his own;<br /> +Let him fight till he’s ruined, make matches, and treat,<br +/> +To afford us still news, the dull coffee-house cheat:<br /> +He’s but a brave wretch, whilst that I am more free,<br /> +More safe, and a thousand times happier than he.</p> +<p class="poetry">In spite of him, or the Pope, or the Devil,<br +/> +Or faggot, or fire, or the worst of hell’s evil,<br /> +<a name="page235"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 235</span>I still +will drink healths to the lovers of wine,<br /> +Those jovial, brisk blades that do never repine;<br /> +I’ll drink in defiance of napkin or halter,<br /> +Tho’ religion turn round still, yet mine shall ne’er +alter.</p> +<p class="poetry">But a health to good fellows shall still be my +care,<br /> +And whilst wine it holds out, no bumpers we’ll spare.<br /> +I’ll subscribe to petitions for nothing but claret,<br /> +That that may be cheap, here’s both my hands for it;<br /> +’Tis my province, and with it I only am pleased,<br /> +With the rest, scolding wives let poor cuckolds appease.</p> +<p class="poetry">No doubt ’tis the best of all drinks, or +so soon<br /> +It ne’er had been chose by the Man in the Moon, <a +name="citation110"></a><a href="#footnote110" +class="citation">[110]</a><br /> +Who drinks nothing else, both by night and by day<br /> +But claret, brisk claret, and most people say,<br /> +Whilst glasses brimful to the stars they go round,<br /> +Which makes them shine brighter with red juice still +crown’d.</p> +<p class="poetry">For all things in Nature doe live by good +drinking,<br /> +And he’s a dull fool, and not worthy my thinking, <br /> +That does not prefer it before all the treasure<br /> +The Indies contain, or the sea without measure;<br /> +’Tis the life of good fellows, for without it they pine,<br +/> +When nought can revive them but brimmers of wine.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page236"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +236</span>I know the refreshments that still it does bring,<br /> +Which have oftentimes made us as great as a king<br /> +In the midst of his armies where’er he is found,<br /> +Whilst the bottles and glasses I’ve muster’d +round;<br /> +Who are Bacchus’ warriors a conquest will gain<br /> +Without the least bloodshed, or wounded, or slain.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then here’s a good health to all those +that love peace,<br /> +Let plotters be damn’d and all quarrels now cease<br /> +Let me but have wine and I care for no more,<br /> +’Tis a treasure sufficient; there’s none can be +poor<br /> +That has Bacchus to’s friend, for he laughs at all harm,<br +/> +Whilst with high-proofed claret he does himself arm.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Printed for J. Jordan, at the +Angel, Giltspur Street.</p> +<h3>THE LOYAL SUBJECTS’ HEARTY WISHES TO KING CHARLES +II.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From Sir W. C. Trevelyan’s +Broadsides in the British Museum.</p> +<p class="poetry">He that write these verses certainly<br /> +Did serve his royal father faithfully,<br /> +Likewise himself he served at Worcester fight,<br /> +And for his loyalty was put to flight.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page237"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +237</span>But had he a haid of hair like Absolom,<br /> +And every hair as strong as was Samson,<br /> +I’d venture all for Charles the Second’s sake,<br /> +And for his Majesty my life forsake.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune “When Cannons are +roaring.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">FIRST +PART.</span></p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">True</span> subjects, all +rejoice<br /> + After long sadness,<br /> +And now with heart and voice<br /> + Show forth your gladness.<br /> +That to King Charles were true<br /> + And rebels hated,<br /> +This song only to you<br /> + Is dedicated;<br /> +For Charles our sovereign dear<br /> + Is safe returned<br /> +True subjects’ hearts to cheer,<br /> + That long have mourned:<br /> +Then let us give God praise<br /> + That doth defend him,<br /> +And pray with heart and voice,<br /> + Angels, attend him.</p> +<p class="poetry">The dangers he hath past<br /> + From vile usurpers<br /> +Now bring him joy at last,<br /> + Although some lurkers<br /> +Did seek his blood to spill<br /> + By actions evil;<br /> +But God we see is still<br /> + Above the Devil:<br /> +Though many serpents hiss<br /> + Him to devour,<br /> +God his defender is<br /> + By His strong power:<br /> +<a name="page238"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 238</span>Then let +us give him praise<br /> + That doth defend him,<br /> +And sing with heart and voice,<br /> + Angels, defend him.</p> +<p class="poetry">The joy that he doth bring,<br /> + If true confessed,<br /> +The tongues of mortal men<br /> + Cannot confess it;<br /> +He cures our drooping fears,<br /> + Being long tormented,<br /> +And his true Cavaliers<br /> + Are well contented;<br /> +For now the Protestant<br /> + Again shall flourish;<br /> +The King our nursing father<br /> + He will us cherish:<br /> +Then let us give God praise<br /> + That did defend him,<br /> +And sing with heart and voice,<br /> + Angels, attend him.</p> +<p class="poetry">Like Moses, he is meek<br /> + And tender-hearted;<br /> +And by all means doth seek<br /> + To have foes converted;<br /> +But, like the Israelites,<br /> + There are a number<br /> +That for his love to them<br /> + ’Gainst him doth murmur:<br /> +Read Exodus,—’tis true<br /> + The Israelites rather<br /> +Yield to the Egyptian crew<br /> + Than Moses their father:<br /> +<a name="page239"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 239</span>So many +phanaticks,<br /> + With hearts disloyal,<br /> +Their hearts and minds do fix<br /> + ’Gainst our King royal.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">SECOND +PART.</span></p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Like</span> holy David, +he<br /> + Past many troubles,<br /> +And by his constancy<br /> + His joys redoubles;<br /> +For now he doth bear sway<br /> + By God appointed,<br /> +For Holy Writ doth say,<br /> + Touch not mine Anointed.<br /> +He is God’s anointed sure,<br /> + Who still doth guide him<br /> +In all his wayes most pure,<br /> + Though some divide him.<br /> +Then let us give God praise<br /> + That doth defend him,<br /> +And sing with heart and voice,<br /> + Angels, attend him.</p> +<p class="poetry">Many there are, we know,<br /> + Within this nation,<br /> +Lip-love to him do show<br /> + In ’simulation;<br /> +Of such vile hereticks<br /> + There are a number,<br /> +Whose hearts and tongues, we know,<br /> + Are far asunder;<br /> +<a name="page240"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 240</span>Some do +pray for the King<br /> + Being constrained;<br /> +Who lately against him<br /> + Greatly complained;<br /> +They turn both seat and seam<br /> + To cheat poor tailors,<br /> +But the fit place for them<br /> + Is under strong jailors.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let the King’s foes admire<br /> + Who do reject him;<br /> +Seeing God doth him inspire,<br /> + And still direct him,<br /> +To heal those evil sores,<br /> + And them to cure<br /> +By his most gracious hand<br /> + And prayers pure.<br /> +Though simple people say<br /> + Doctors do as much,<br /> +None but our lawful King<br /> + Can cure with a touch;<br /> +As plainly hath been seen<br /> + Since he returned,—<br /> +Many have cured been<br /> + Which long have mourned.</p> +<p class="poetry">The poorest wretch that hath<br /> + This evil, sure<br /> +May have ease from the King<br /> + And perfect cure;<br /> +His Grace is meek and wise,<br /> + Loving and civil,<br /> +And to his enemies<br /> + Doth good for evil;<br /> +<a name="page241"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 241</span>For some +that were his foes<br /> + Were by him healed;<br /> +His liberal cause to bless<br /> + Is not concealed;<br /> +He heals both poor and rich<br /> + By God’s great power,<br /> +And his most gracious touch<br /> + Doth them all cure.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then blush, you infidels,<br /> + That late did scorn him;<br /> +And you that did rebel,<br /> + Crave pardon of him;<br /> +With speed turn a new leaf<br /> + For your transgresses;<br /> +Hear what the preacher sayes<br /> + In Ecclesiastes,—<br /> +The Scripture’s true, and shall<br /> + Ever be taught;<br /> +Curse not the King at all,<br /> + No, not in thy thought:<br /> +And holy Peter<br /> + Two commandments doth bring,—<br /> +Is first for to fear God,<br /> + And then honour the King.</p> +<p class="poetry">When that we had no King<br /> + To guide the nation,<br /> +Opinions up did spring<br /> + By toleration;<br /> +And many heresies<br /> + Were then advanced,<br /> +And cruel liberties<br /> + By old Noll granted.<br /> +<a name="page242"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 242</span>Even +able ministers<br /> + Were not esteemed;<br /> +Many false prophets<br /> + Good preachers were deemed.<br /> +The Church some hated;<br /> + A barn, house, or stable<br /> +Would serve the Quakers,<br /> + With their wicked rabble.</p> +<p class="poetry">And now for to conclude:<br /> + The God of power<br /> +Preserve and guide our King<br /> + Both day and hour;<br /> +That he may rule and reign<br /> + Our hearts to cherish;<br /> +And on his head, good Lord,<br /> + Let his crown flourish.<br /> +Let his true subjects sing<br /> + With hearts most loyal,<br /> +God bless and prosper still<br /> + Charles our King royal.<br /> +So now let’s give God praise<br /> + That doth defend him,<br /> +And sing with heart and voice,<br /> + Angels defend him.</p> +<p>London, printed for John Andrews, at the White Lion, near +Pye-Court.</p> +<h3><a name="page243"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 243</span>KING +CHARLES THE SECOND’S RESTORATION, 29<span +class="GutSmall">TH</span> MAY.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">Tune, “Where have you been, +my lovely sailor bold?”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">You</span> brave loyal +Churchmen,<br /> + That ever stood by the crown,<br /> +Have you forgot that noble prince<br /> + Great Charles of high renown,<br /> +That from his rights was banish’d<br /> + By Presbyterians, who<br /> +Most cruelty his father kill’d?—<br /> + O cursed, damned crew!<br /> + So let the bells in steeples +ring,<br /> + And music +sweetly play,<br /> + That loyal Tories mayn’t +forget<br /> + The twenty-ninth +of May.</p> +<p class="poetry">Twelve years was he banish’d<br /> + From what was his just due,<br /> +And forced to hide in fields and woods<br /> + From Presbyterian crew;<br /> +But God did preserve him,<br /> + As plainly you do see,<br /> +The blood-hounds did surround the oak<br /> + While he was in the tree.<br /> + So let, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">As Providence would have it,<br /> + The hounds did lose their scent;<br /> +<a name="page244"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 244</span>To spill +the blood of this brave prince<br /> + It was their whole intent.<br /> +While that he was in exile,<br /> + The Church they pull’d down,<br /> +The Common-prayer they burnt, sir,<br /> + And trampled on the crown.<br /> + So let, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">They plunder’d at their pleasure,<br /> + On lords’ estates they seiz’d,<br /> +The bishops they did send away,<br /> + They did just as they pleas’d.<br /> +But General Monk at last rose up,<br /> + With valiant heart so bold,<br /> +Saying, that he no longer<br /> + By them would be controul’d.<br /> + So let, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">So in great splendour<br /> + At last he did bring in,<br /> +Unto every Torie’s joy,<br /> + Great Charles our sovereign.<br /> +Then loyal hearts so merry<br /> + The royal oak did wear,<br /> +While balconies with tapestry hung—<br /> + Nothing but joy was there.<br /> + So let, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The conduits they with wine did run,<br /> + The bonfires did blaze,<br /> +In every street likewise the skies<br /> + Did ring with loud huzzas,—<br /> +Saying, God bless our sovereign,<br /> + And send him long to reign,<br /> +<a name="page245"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 245</span>Hoping +the P—n crew<br /> + May never rule again.<br /> + So let, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Soon as great Charles<br /> + Our royal King was crown’d,<br /> +He built the Church up again,<br /> + The meetings were pull’d down.<br /> +No canting then was in the land,<br /> + The subjects were at peace,<br /> +The Church again did flourish,<br /> + And joy did then increase.<br /> + So let, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">The cursed Presbyterian crew<br /> + Was then put to the flight,<br /> +Some did fly by day,<br /> + And others run by night.<br /> +In barns and stables they did cant,<br /> + And every place they could;<br /> +He made them remember<br /> + The spilling royal blood.<br /> + So let, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">May God for ever<br /> + Bless the Church and Crown,<br /> +And never let any subject strive<br /> + The King for to dethrone.<br /> +May Churchmen ever flourish,<br /> + And peace increase again;<br /> +God for ever bless the King,<br /> + And send him long to reign.<br /> + So let, etc.</p> +<h3><a name="page246"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 246</span>THE +JUBILEE,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR</span><br /> +THE CORONATION DAY.</h3> +<p>From Thomas Jordan’s “<i>Royal Arbor of Loyal +Poesie</i>,” 12mo, 1664. Mr Chappell +states—“As this consists of only two stanzas, and the +copy of the book, which is now in the possession of Mr Payne +Collier, is probably unique, they are here subjoined.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Let</span> every man with +tongue and pen<br /> +Rejoice that Charles is come agen,<br /> +To gain his sceptre and his throne,<br /> +And give to every man his own;<br /> + Let all men that be<br /> + Together agree,<br /> +And freely now express their joy;<br /> + Let your sweetest voices bring<br +/> + Pleasant songs unto the King,<br +/> +To crown his Coronation Day.</p> +<p class="poetry">All that do thread on English earth<br /> +Shall live in freedom, peace, and mirth;<br /> +The golden times are come that we<br /> +Did one day think we ne’er should see;<br /> + Protector and Rump<br /> + Did put us in a dump,<br /> +When they their colours did display;<br /> + But the time is come about,<br /> + We are in, and they are out,<br /> +By King Charles his Coronation Day.</p> +<h3><a name="page247"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 247</span>THE +KING ENJOYS HIS OWN AGAIN.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">(1661.)—From Hogg’s +Jacobite Relics.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Whigs</span> are now such +precious things,<br /> + We see there’s not one to be found;<br /> +All roar “God bless and save the King!”<br /> + And his health goes briskly all day round.<br /> +To the soldier, cap in hand, the sneaking rascals stand,<br /> + And would put in for honest men;<br /> +But the King he well knows his friends from his foes,<br /> + And now he enjoys his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry">From this plot’s first taking air,<br /> + Like lightning all the Whigs have run;<br /> +Nay, they’ve left their topping square,<br /> + To march off with our eldest son:<br /> +They’ve left their ’states and wives to save their +precious lives,<br /> + Yet who can blame their flying, when<br /> +’Twas plain to them all, the great and the small,<br /> + That the King would have his own again?</p> +<p class="poetry">This may chance a warning be<br /> + (If e’er the saints will warning take)<br /> +To leave off hatching villany,<br /> + Since they’ve seen their brother at the +stake:<br /> +And more must mounted be (which God grant we may see),<br /> + Since juries now are honest men:<br /> +And the King lets them swing with a hey ding a ding,<br /> + Great James enjoys his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page248"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +248</span>Since they have voted that his Guards<br /> + A nuisance were, which now they find,<br /> +Since they stand between the King<br /> + And the treason that such dogs design’d;<br /> +’Tis they will you maul, though it cost them a fall,<br /> + In spight of your most mighty men;<br /> +For now they are alarm’d, and all Loyalists well +arm’d,<br /> + Since the King enjoys his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry">To the King, come, bumpers round,<br /> + Let’s drink, my boys, while life doth last:<br +/> +He that at the core’s not sound<br /> + Shall be kick’d out without a taste.<br /> +We’ll fear no disgrace, but look traitors in the face,<br +/> + Since we’re case-harden’d, honest +men;<br /> +Which makes their crew mad, but us loyal hearts full glad,<br /> + That the King enjoys his own again.</p> +<h3>A COUNTRY SONG, INTITULED THE RESTORATION.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">(May, 1661.)—From the +twentieth volume of the folio broadsides, King’s +Pamphlets.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Come</span>, come away<br /> + To the temple, and pray,<br /> +And sing with a pleasant strain;<br /> + The schismatick’s dead,<br /> + The liturgy’s read,<br /> +And the King enjoyes his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <a name="page249"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 249</span>The vicar is glad,<br /> + The clerk is not sad,<br /> +And the parish cannot refrain<br /> + To leap and rejoyce<br /> + And lift up their voyce,<br /> +That the King enjoyes his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> The country doth bow<br /> + To old justices now,<br /> +That long aside have been lain;<br /> + The bishop’s restored,<br /> + God is rightly adored,<br /> +And the King enjoyes his own again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Committee-men fall,<br /> + And majors-generall,<br /> +No more doe those tyrants reign;<br /> + There’s no sequestration,<br /> + Nor new decimation,<br /> +For the King enjoyes the sword again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> The scholar doth look<br /> + With joy on his book,<br /> +Tom whistles and plows amain;<br /> + Soldiers plunder no more<br /> + As they did heretofore,<br /> +For the King enjoyes the sword again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> The citizens trade,<br /> + The merchants do lade,<br /> +And send their ships into Spain;<br /> + No pirates at sea<br /> + To make them a prey,<br /> +For the King enjoyes the sword again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <a name="page250"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 250</span>The old man and boy,<br /> + The clergy and lay,<br /> +Their joyes cannot contain;<br /> + ’Tis better than of late<br /> + With the Church and the State,<br /> +Now the King enjoyes the sword again.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Let’s render our +praise<br /> + For these happy dayes<br /> +To God and our sovereign;<br /> + Your drinking give ore,<br /> + Swear not as before,<br /> +For the King bears not the sword in vain.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Fanaticks, be quiet,<br /> + And keep a good diet,<br /> +To cure your crazy brain;<br /> + Throw off your disguise,<br /> + Go to church and be wise,<br /> +For the King bears not the sword in vain.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Let faction and pride<br /> + Be now laid aside,<br /> +That truth and peace may reign;<br /> + Let every one mend,<br /> + And there is an end,<br /> +For the King bears not the sword in vain.</p> +<h3><a name="page251"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +251</span>HERE’S A HEALTH UNTO HIS MAJESTY.</h3> +<p>There is only one verse to this Song. The music is +arranged for three voices in “Playford’s Musical +Companion, 1667.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Here’s</span> a +health unto his Majesty,<br /> + With a fal la la la la la la,<br /> +Confusion to his enemies,<br /> + With a fal lal la la la la la la.<br /> +And he that will not drink his health,<br /> + I wish him neither wit nor wealth,<br /> +Nor but a rope to hang himself.<br /> + With a fal lal la la la la la la la la,<br /> + With a fal lal la la la la la.</p> +<h3>THE WHIGS DROWNED IN AN HONEST TORY HEALTH.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From Col. 180 Loyal Songs.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Tune, “Hark, the thundering +canons roar.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Wealth</span> breeds care, +love, hope, and fear;<br /> +What does love or bus’ness here?<br /> +While Bacchus’ navy doth appear,<br /> + Fight on and fear not sinking;<br /> +Fill it briskly to the brim,<br /> +Till the flying top-sails swim,<br /> +We owe the first discovery to him<br /> + Of this great world of drinking.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page252"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +252</span>Brave Cabals, who states refine,<br /> +Mingle their debates with wine,<br /> +Ceres and the god o’ th’ vine<br /> + Make every great commander;<br /> +Let sober Scots small beer subdue,<br /> +The wise and valiant wine do woo,<br /> +The Stagerite had the horrors too,<br /> + To be drunk with Alexander.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Stand to your arms</i>! and now advance,<br +/> +A health to the English King of France;<br /> +And to the next of boon esperance,<br /> + By Bacchus and Apollo;<br /> +Thus in state I lead the van,<br /> +Fall in your place by the right-hand man,<br /> +Beat drum! march on! dub a dub, ran dan!<br /> + He’s a Whig that will not follow.</p> +<p class="poetry">Face about to the right again,<br /> +Britain’s admiral of the main,<br /> +York and his illustrious train<br /> + Crown the day’s conclusion;<br /> +Let a halter stop his throat<br /> +Who brought in the foremost vote,<br /> +And of all that did promote<br /> + The mystery of exclusion.</p> +<p class="poetry">Next to Denmark’s warlike prince<br /> +Let the following health commence,<br /> +To the nymph whose influence<br /> + That brought the hero hither;—<br /> +<a name="page253"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 253</span>May +their race the tribe annoy,<br /> +Who the Grandsire would destroy,<br /> +And get every year a boy<br /> + Whilst they live together.</p> +<p class="poetry">To the royal family<br /> +Let us close in bumpers three,<br /> +May the ax and halter be<br /> + The pledge of every Roundhead;<br /> +To all loyal hearts pursue,<br /> +Who to the monarch dare prove true;<br /> +But for him they call True Blue,<br /> + Let him be confounded.</p> +<h3>THE CAVALIER.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">By Alex. +Brome.—(1661–2.)</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">We</span> have ventured our +estates,<br /> + And our liberties and lives,<br /> +For our master and his mates,<br /> +And been toss’d by cruel fates<br /> + Where the rebellious Devil drives,<br /> + So that not one of ten survives;<br /> + We have laid all at stake<br /> + For his Majesty’s sake;<br +/> + We have fought, we have paid,<br +/> + We’ve been sold and +betray’d,<br /> +And tumbled from nation to nation;<br /> + But now those are thrown down<br +/> + That usurped the Crown,<br /> + <a name="page254"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 254</span>Our hopes were that we<br /> + All rewarded should be,<br /> +But we’re paid with a Proclamation.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now the times are turn’d about,<br /> + And the rebels’ race is run;<br /> +That many-headed beast the Rout,<br /> +That did turn the Father out,<br /> + When they saw they were undone,<br +/> + Were for bringing in the son.<br +/> + That phanatical +crew,<br /> + Which made us +all rue,<br /> + Have got so much +wealth<br /> + By their plunder +and stealth<br /> +That they creep into profit and power:<br /> + And so come what +will,<br /> + They’ll be +uppermost still;<br /> + And we that are +low<br /> + Shall still be +kept so,<br /> +While those domineer and devour.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet we will be loyal still,<br /> + And serve without reward or hire:<br /> +To be redeem’d from so much ill,<br /> +May stay our stomachs, though not still,<br /> + And if our patience do not tire,<br /> + We may in time have our desire.</p> +<h3><a name="page255"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 255</span>THE +LAMENTATION OF A BAD MARKET,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR</span><br /> +THE DISBANDED SOULDIER.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">(July 17th, 1660.)—From the +King’s Pamphlets, British Museum.</p> +<p>This ballad relates to the disbanding of the Parliamentary +army. Contrary, however, to what is pretended in it, says +Mr. Wright, in his volume printed for the Percy Society, the +writers of the time mention with admiration the good conduct of +the soldiers after they were disbanded, each betaking himself to +some honest trade or calling, with as much readiness as if he had +never been employed in any other way. Not many weeks before +the date of the present ballad, a prose tract had been published, +with the same title, “The Lamentation of a Bad Market, or +Knaves and Fools foully foyled, and fallen into a Pit of their +own digging,” &c. March 21st, 1659–60.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <span class="smcap">In</span> +red-coat raggs attired,<br /> + I wander up and down,<br /> + Since fate and foes conspired,<br /> + + +Thus to array me,<br /> + Or betray me<br +/> + To the harsh censure of the +town.<br /> +My buffe doth make me boots, my velvet coat and scarlet,<br /> +Which used to do me credit with many a wicked harlot,<br /> +Have bid me all adieu, most despicable varlet!<br /> + Alas, poor souldier, whither wilt thou march?</p> +<p class="poetry"> I’ve been in France and +Holland,<br /> + Guided by my starrs;<br /> + I’ve been in Spain and Poland,<br /> + + +<a name="page256"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +256</span>I’ve been in Hungarie,<br /> + In Greece and +Italy,<br /> + And served them in all their +wars.<br /> +Britain these eighteen years has known my desperate slaughter,<br +/> +I’ve killed ten at one blow, even in a fit of laughter,<br +/> +Gone home again and smiled, and kiss’d my landlor’s +daughter;<br /> + Alas! poor souldier, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> My valour prevailed,<br /> + Meeting with my foes,<br /> + Which strongly we assailed;<br /> + + +Oh! strange I wondred,<br /> + They were a +hundred;<br /> + Yet I routed them with few +blowes.<br /> +This fauchion by my side has kind more men, I’ll swear +it,<br /> +Than Ajax ever did, alas! he ne’er came near it,<br /> +Yea, more than Priam’s boy, or all that ere did hear it.<br +/> + Alas! poor souldier, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> For King and Parliament<br /> + I was Prester John.<br /> + Devout was my intent;<br /> + + +I haunted meetings,<br /> + Used zealous +greetings,<br /> + Crept full of devotion;<br /> +Smectymnuus won me first, then holy Nye prevail, <a +name="citation111"></a><a href="#footnote111" +class="citation">[111]</a><br /> +<a name="page257"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 257</span>Then +Captain Kiffin <a name="citation112"></a><a href="#footnote112" +class="citation">[112]</a> slops me with John of Leyden’s +tail,<br /> +Then Fox and Naylor bangs me with Jacob Beamond’s flail. <a +name="citation113"></a><a href="#footnote113" +class="citation">[113]</a><br /> + Alas! poor souldier, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> I did about this nation<br /> + Hold forth my gifts and teach,<br +/> + Maintained the tolleration<br /> + + +The common story<br /> + And Directory<br +/> + I damn’d with the word +“preach.”<br /> +Time was when all trades failed, men counterfeitly zealous<br /> +<a name="page258"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +258</span>Turn’d whining, snievling praters, or kept a +country ale-house,<br /> +Got handsome wives, turn’d cuckolds, howe’er were +very jealous.<br /> + Alas! poor souldier, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> The world doth know me +well,<br /> + I ne’re did peace desire,<br +/> + Because I could not tell<br /> + + +Of what behaviour<br /> + I should +savour<br /> + In a field of thundring fire.<br +/> +When we had murdered King, confounded Church and State,<br /> +Divided parks and forests, houses, money, plate,<br /> +We then did peace desire, to keep what he had gat.<br /> + Alas! poor souldier, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Surplice was surplisage,<br +/> + We voted right or wrong,<br /> + Within that furious age,<br /> + + +Of the painted glass,<br /> + Or pictured +brass,<br /> + And liturgie we made a song.<br /> +Bishops, and bishops’ lands, were superstitious words,<br +/> +Until in souldiers’ hands, and so were kings and lords,<br +/> +But in fashion now again in spight of all our swords.<br /> + Alas! poor souldier, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Some say I am forsaken<br /> + By the great men of these +times,<br /> + And they’re no whit mistaken;<br /> + + +<a name="page259"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 259</span>It is my +fate<br /> + To be out of +date,<br /> + My masters most are guilty of such +crimes.<br /> +Like an old Almanack, I now but represent<br /> +How long since Edge-Hill fight, or the rising was in Kent,<br /> +Or since the dissolution of the first Long Parliament.<br /> + Alas! poor souldier, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Good sirs, what shall I +fancie,<br /> + Amidst these gloomy dayes?<br /> + Shall I goe court brown Nancy?<br /> + + +In a countrey town<br /> + They’l +call me clown,<br /> + If I sing them my outlandish +playes.<br /> +Let me inform their nodle with my heroick spirit,<br /> +My language and worth besides transcend unto merit;<br /> +They’l not believe one word, what mortal flesh can bear +it?<br /> + Alas! poor souldier, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Into the countrey places<br +/> + I resolve to goe,<br /> + Amongst those sun-burnt faces<br /> + + +I’le goe to plough<br /> + Or keep a +cow,<br /> + ’Tis that my masters now +again must do.<br /> +Souldiers ye see will be of each religion,<br /> +They’re but like stars, which when the true sun rise +they’re gon.<br /> +I’le to the countrey goe, and there I’le serve Sir +John;<br /> + Aye, aye, ’tis thither, and thither will I +goe.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">London, printed for Charles +Gustavus, 1660.</p> +<h3><a name="page260"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 260</span>THE +COURTIER’S HEALTH;<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR,</span><br /> +THE MERRY BOYS OF THE TIMES.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">(A.D. 1672.)—From the +Roxburgh Ballads, Vol. ii.<br /> +To the tune of “Come, Boys, fill us a Bumper.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span>, boys, fill us +a bumper,<br /> + Wee’l make the nation roar,<br /> +She’s grown sick of a <i>Rumper</i>,<br /> + That sticks on the old score.<br /> +Pox on phanaticks, rout ’um,<br /> + They thirst for our blood;<br /> +Wee’l taxes raise without ’um,<br /> + And drink for the nation’s good.<br /> +Fill the pottles and the gallons,<br /> + And bring the hogshead in,<br /> +Wee’l begin with a tallen,<br /> + A brimmer to the King.</p> +<p class="poetry">Round, around, fill a fresh one,<br /> + Let no man bawk his wine,<br /> +Wee’l drink to the next in succession,<br /> + And keep it in the right line.<br /> +Bring us ten thousand glasses,<br /> + The more we drink we’re dry;<br /> +We mind not the beautiful lasses,<br /> + Whose conquest lyes all in the eye.<br /> + Fill the pottles, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">We boys are truly loyal,<br /> + For Charles wee’l venture all,<br /> +We know his blood is royal,<br /> + His name shall never fall.<br /> +<a name="page261"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 261</span>But +those that seek his ruine<br /> + May chance to dye before him,<br /> +While we that sacks are woeing<br /> + For ever will adore him.<br /> + Fill the pottles, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">I hate those strange dissenters<br /> + That strives to hawk a glass,<br /> +He that at all adventures<br /> + Will see what comes to pass:<br /> +And let the Popish nation<br /> + Disturb us if they can,<br /> +They ne’er shall breed distraction<br /> + In a true-hearted man.<br /> + Fill the pottles, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let the fanatics grumble<br /> + To see things cross their grain,<br /> +Wee’l make them now more humble<br /> + Or ease them of their pain:<br /> +They shall drink sack amain too,<br /> + Or they shall be choak’t;<br /> +Wee’l tell ’um ’tis in vain too<br /> + For us to be provok’t.<br /> + Fill the pottles, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">He that denyes the brimmer<br /> + Shall banish’d be in this isle,<br /> +And we will look more grimmer<br /> + Till he begins to smile:<br /> +Wee’l drown him in Canary,<br /> + And make him all our own,<br /> +And when his heart is merry<br /> + Hee’l drink to Charles on’s throne.<br +/> + Fill the pottles, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page262"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +262</span>Quakers and Anabaptists,<br /> + Wee’l sink them in a glass;<br /> +He deals most plain and flattest<br /> + That sayes he loves a lass:<br /> +Then tumble down Canary,<br /> + And let our brains go round,<br /> +For he that won’t be merry<br /> + He can’t at heart be sound.<br /> + Fill the pottles, etc.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Printed for P. Brooksly, at the +Golden Ball in West Smithfield, 1672.</p> +<h3>THE LOYAL TORIES’ DELIGHT;<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR,</span><br /> +A PILL FOR FANATICKS.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">Being a most pleasant and new +song.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">1680.—From the Roxburgh +Ballads, Vol. iii., fol. 911.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “Great York +has been debar’d of late, etc.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Great</span> York has been +debar’d of late<br /> +From Court by some accursed fate;<br /> +But ere long, we do not fear,<br /> +We shall have him, have him here,<br /> + We shall have +him, have him here.</p> +<p class="poetry">The makers of the plot we see,<br /> +By damn’d old <i>Tony’s</i> treachery,<br /> +How they would have brought it about,<br /> +To have given great York the rout,<br /> + To have given, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page263"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +263</span>God preserve our gracious King,<br /> +And safe tydings to us bring,<br /> +Defend us from the <i>sham black box</i>, <a +name="citation114"></a><a href="#footnote114" +class="citation">[114]</a><br /> +And all damn’d fanatick plots,<br /> + And all +damn’d, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Here Charles’s health I drink to thee,<br +/> +And with him all prosperity;<br /> +God grant that he long time may reign,<br /> +To bring us home great York again,<br /> + To bring us +home, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">That he, in spight of all his foes<br /> +Who loyalty and laws oppose,<br /> +May long remain in health and peace,<br /> +Whilst plots and plotters all shall cease,<br /> + Whilst plots, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let Whigs go down to Erebus,<br /> +And not stay here to trouble us<br /> +With noisy cant and needless fear,<br /> +Of ills to come they know not where,<br /> + Of ills to come, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">When our chief trouble they create,<br /> +For plain we see what they’d be at;<br /> +Could they but push great York once down<br /> +They’d next attempt to snatch the crown,<br /> + They’d +next attempt, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page264"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +264</span>But Heaven preserve our gracious King,<br /> +May all good subjects loudly sing;<br /> +And Royal James preserve likewise,<br /> +From such as do against him rise,<br /> + From such as do, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then come, again fill round our glass,<br /> +And, loyal Tories, less it pass,<br /> +Fill up, fill up unto the brim,<br /> +And let each boule with necture swim,<br /> + And let each +boule, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though <i>cloakmen</i>, that seem much +precise,<br /> +’Gainst wine exclaim with turn’d-up eyes;<br /> +Yet in a corner they’l be drunk,<br /> +With drinking healths unto the Rump,<br /> + With drinking, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">In hopes that once more they shall tear<br /> +Both Church and State, which is their prayer;<br /> +But Heaven does yet protect the throne,<br /> +Whilst Tyburn for such slaves does groan,<br /> + Whilst Tyburn, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">For now ’tis plain, most men abhor,<br /> +What some so strongly voted for;<br /> +Great York in favour does remain,<br /> +In spight of all the Whiggish train,<br /> + In spight of +all, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">And now the <i>Old Cause</i> goes to wrack,<br +/> +Sedition mauger cloath in black<br /> +Do greatly dread the triple tree,<br /> +Whilst we rejoyce in loyalty,<br /> + Whilst we +rejoyce, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page265"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +265</span>Then come, let’s take another round,<br /> +And still in loyalty abound,<br /> +And wish our King he long may reign<br /> +To bring us home great York again,<br /> + To bring us home +great York again.</p> +<h3>THE ROYAL ADMIRAL.</h3> +<p>Miss Strickland quotes this ballad in her Lives of the Queens +of England, and states that this was the first Jacobite song that +was written and set to music.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Let</span> Titus <a +name="citation115"></a><a href="#footnote115" +class="citation">[115]</a> and Patience <a +name="citation116"></a><a href="#footnote116" +class="citation">[116]</a> stir up a commotion,<br /> + Their plotting and swearing shall prosper no +more;<br /> +Now gallant old Jamie commands on the ocean,<br /> + And mighty Charles keeps them in awe on the +shore.</p> +<p class="poetry">Jamie the Valiant, the Champion Royal,<br /> + His own and the monarchy’s rival withstood;<br +/> +The bane and the terror of those the disloyal,<br /> + Who slew his loved father and thirst for his +blood.</p> +<p class="poetry">York, the great admiral,—Ocean’s +defender,<br /> + The joy of our navy, the dread of its foes,<br /> +The lawful successor,—what upstart pretender<br /> + Shall dare, in our isle, the true heir to +oppose?</p> +<p class="poetry">Jamie quelled the proud foe on the ocean,<br /> + And rode the sole conqueror over the main;<br /> +To this gallant hero let all pay devotion,<br /> + For England her admiral sees him again.</p> +<h3><a name="page266"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 266</span>THE +UNFORTUNATE WHIGS.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">1682.—From the Roxburgh +Ballads.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “The King +enjoys his own,” &c.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> Whigs are but +small, and of no good race,<br /> + And are beloved by very few;<br /> +Old <i>Tony</i> broach’d his tap in every place,<br /> + To encourage all his factious crew.<br /> + At some great houses in this +town,<br /> + The Whigs of high renown,<br /> +And all with a true blue was their stain;<br /> + For since it is so,<br /> + They have wrought their +overthrow,<br /> +Old Tony <i>will ne’r enjoy his own</i>, <i>again</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">They all owne duty to their lawful prince,<br +/> + And loyal subjects should have been;<br /> +But their duty is worn out long since,<br /> + By the <i>Association</i> seen.<br /> + But these are the Whigs,<br /> + That have cut off some legs,<br /> +And fain would be at that sport amain;<br /> + For since it is so,<br /> + They have wrought their +overthrow,<br /> +Old Tony <i>will ne’r enjoy his own again</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">And yet they are sham-pretenders,<br /> + And they swear they’ll support our laws;<br /> +These be the great defenders of<br /> + <i>Ignoramus</i> and the <i>Old Cause</i>:<br /> + They’ll defend the King<br +/> + By swearing of the thing,<br /> +<a name="page267"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 267</span>These +are the cursed rogues in grain;<br /> + For since it is so,<br /> + They have wrought their +overthrow,<br /> +Old Tony <i>will ne’r enjoy his own again</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">The true religion that shall down,<br /> + Which so long has won the day,<br /> +And <i>Common-prayer</i> i’th’ church of ev’ry +town,<br /> + If that the Whigs could but bear the sway:<br /> + For Oates he does begin<br /> + Now for to bring them in,<br /> +As when he came mumping from Spain;<br /> + For since it is so,<br /> + They have wrought their +overthrow,<br /> +Old Tony <i>will ne’r enjoy his own again</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">How all their shamming plots they would +hide,<br /> + Yet they are ignorant, they say,<br /> +When as Old <i>Tony</i> he was try’d<br /> + And brought off with <i>Ignoramus</i> sway:<br /> + When Oates he was dumb<br /> + And could not use his tongue,<br +/> +This is the shamming rogues in grain;<br /> + For since it is so,<br /> + They have wrought their +overthrow,<br /> +Old Tony <i>will ne’r enjoy his own again</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then let all true subjects sing,<br /> + And damn the power of all those<br /> +That won’t show loyalty to their King,<br /> + And assist him against his Whiggish foes.<br /> + Then in this our happy state,<br +/> + In spight of traytors’ +hate,<br /> +<a name="page268"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 268</span>We will +all loyal still remain;<br /> + For since it is so,<br /> + They have wrought their +overthrow,<br /> +Old Tony <i>will ne’r enjoy his own again</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">God preserve our gracious King,<br /> + With the Royal Consort of his bed,<br /> +And let all loyal subjects sing<br /> + That the crown may remain on Charles’s +head;<br /> + For we will drink his health<br /> + In spight of +<i>Common-wealth</i>,<br /> +And his lawful rights we will maintain;<br /> + For since it is so,<br /> + They have wrought their +overthrow,<br /> +Old Tony <i>will ne’r enjoy his own again</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Printed for S. Maurel, in the year +1682.</p> +<h3>THE DOWNFALL OF THE GOOD OLD CAUSE.</h3> +<p>From a “Collection of One Hundred and Eighty Loyal +Songs, all written since 1678,” and published London, +1694. [Fourth Edition.]</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Tune,—“Hey, Boys, up go +we.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Now</span> the Bad Old +Cause is tapt,<br /> + And the vessel standeth stoop’d;<br /> +The cooper may starve for want of work,<br /> + For the cask shall never be hoop’d;—<br +/> +<a name="page269"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 269</span>We will +burn the Association,<br /> + The Covenant and vow,<br /> +The public cheat of the nation,<br /> + Anthony, now, now, now</p> +<p class="poetry">No fanatick shall bear the sway<br /> + In court, city, or town,<br /> +These good kingdoms to betray,<br /> + And cry the right line down;—<br /> +Let them cry they love the King,<br /> + Yet if they hate his brother,<br /> +Remember Charles they murdered,<br /> + And so they would the other.</p> +<p class="poetry">Weavers and such like fellows<br /> + In pulpit daily prate,<br /> +Like the Covenanters,<br /> + Against the Church and State:<br /> +Yet they cry they love the King,<br /> + But their baseness will discover;<br /> +Charles the First they murdered,<br /> + And so they would the other.</p> +<p class="poetry">When these fellows go to drink,<br /> + In city or in town,<br /> +They vilify the bishops<br /> + And they cry the Stuarts down:<br /> +Still they cry they love the King,<br /> + But their baseness I’ll discover;<br /> +Charles the First they murdered,<br /> + And so they would the other.</p> +<p class="poetry">When the King wanted money,<br /> + Poor Tangier to relieve,<br /> +<a name="page270"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 270</span>They +cry’d down his revenue,<br /> + Not a penny they would give:<br /> +Still they cry’d they loved the King,<br /> + But their baseness I’ll discover;<br /> +Charles the First they murdered,<br /> + And so they would the other.</p> +<p class="poetry">The noble Marquis of Worcester,<br /> + And many such brave lord,<br /> +By the King-killing crew<br /> + They daily are abhor’d,<br /> +And called evil councellors,<br /> + When the truth they did discover;<br /> +And Charles the First they murdered,<br /> + And so they would the other.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Papists they would kill the King,<br /> + But the Phanaticks did;<br /> +Their perjuries and treacheries<br /> + Aren’t to be parallel’d:<br /> +Let them cry they love the King,<br /> + Their faults I will discover;<br /> +Charles the First they murdered,<br /> + And so they would the other.</p> +<p class="poetry">Charles the Second stands on’s guard,<br +/> + Like a good politick King;<br /> +The Phanaticks ought to be abhor’d<br /> + For all their flattering:<br /> +Let them cry they love the King,<br /> + Their faults I will discover;<br /> +Charles the First they murdered,<br /> + And so they would the other.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page271"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +271</span>Now let us all good subjects be,<br /> + That bear a loyal heart;<br /> +Stand fast for the King<br /> + And each man act his part;<br /> +And to support his Sovereign,<br /> + Religion, and the laws,<br /> +That formerly were established,<br /> + And down with the cursed cause.</p> +<h3>OLD JEMMY.</h3> +<p>From a “Collection of 180 Loyal Songs,” written +since 1678. This is a parody on the Whig song, “Young +Jemmy is a lad that’s royally descended,” written in +celebration of the Duke of Monmouth. Old Jemmy is the Duke +of York, afterwards James II.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “Young +Jemmy.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Old</span> Jemmy is a +lad<br /> + Right lawfully descended;<br /> +No bastard born nor bred,<br /> + Nor for a Whig suspended;<br /> +The true and lawful heir to th’ crown<br /> + By right of birth and laws,<br /> +And bravely will maintain his own<br /> + In spight of all his foes.</p> +<p class="poetry">Old Jemmy is the top<br /> + And chief among the princes;<br /> +No <i>Mobile</i> gay fop,<br /> + With Birmingham pretences;<br /> +<a name="page272"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 272</span>A heart +and soul so wondrous great,<br /> + And such a conquering eye,<br /> +That every loyal lad fears not<br /> + In Jemmy’s cause to die.</p> +<p class="poetry">Old Jemmy is a prince<br /> + Of noble resolutions,<br /> +Whose powerful influence<br /> + Can order our confusions;<br /> +But oh! he fights with such a grace<br /> + No force can him withstand,<br /> +No god of war but must give place<br /> + When Jemmy leads the van.</p> +<p class="poetry">To Jemmy every swain<br /> + Does pay due veneration,<br /> +And Scotland does maintain<br /> + His title to the nation;<br /> +The pride of all the court he stands,<br /> + The patron of his cause,<br /> +The joy and hope of all his friends,<br /> + And terror of his foes.</p> +<p class="poetry">Maliciously they vote<br /> + To work Old Jemmy’s ruin,<br /> +And zealously promote<br /> + A Bill for his undoing;<br /> +Both Lords and Commons most agree<br /> + To pull his Highness down,<br /> +But (spight of all their policy)<br /> + Old Jemmy’s heir to th’ crown.</p> +<p class="poetry">The schismatick and saint,<br /> + The Baptist and the Atheist,<br /> +<a name="page273"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 273</span>Swear by +the Covenant,<br /> + Old Jemmy is a Papist:<br /> +Whilst all the holy crew did plot<br /> + To pull his Highness down,<br /> +Great Albany, a noble Scot<br /> + Did raise unto a crown.</p> +<p class="poetry">Great Albany, they swear,<br /> + He before any other<br /> +Shall be immediate heir<br /> + Unto his royal brother;<br /> +Who will, in spight of all his foes,<br /> + His lawful rights maintain,<br /> +And all the fops that interpose<br /> + Old Jemmy’s York again.</p> +<p class="poetry">The Whigs and zealots plot<br /> + To banish him the nation,<br /> +But the renowned Scot<br /> + Hath wrought his restoration:<br /> +With high respects they treat his Grace,<br /> + His royal cause maintain;<br /> +Brave Albany (to Scotland’s praise)<br /> + Is mighty York again.</p> +<p class="poetry">Against his envious fates<br /> + The Kirk hath taught a lesson,<br /> +A blessing on the States,<br /> + To settle the succession;<br /> +They real were, both knight and lord,<br /> + And will his right maintain,<br /> +By royal Parliament restored,<br /> + Old Jemmy’s come again.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page274"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +274</span>And now he’s come again,<br /> + In spight of all Pretenders;<br /> +Great Albany shall reign,<br /> + Amongst the Faith’s defenders.<br /> +Let Whig and Birmingham repine,<br /> + They show their teeth in vain,<br /> +The glory of the British line,<br /> + Old Jemmy’s come again.</p> +<h3>THE CLOAK’S KNAVERY.</h3> +<p>From “Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Purge Melancholy; being +a Collection of the best merry Ballads and Songs, old and +new.” London, 1714.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Come</span> buy my new ballad,<br /> + I have’t in my wallet,<br /> + But ’twill not I fear please every pallate;<br +/> + Then mark what ensu’th,<br +/> + I swear by my youth<br /> + That every line in my ballad is truth.<br /> +A ballad of wit, a ballad of worth,<br /> +’Tis newly printed and newly come forth;<br /> +’Twas made of a cloak that fell out with a gown,<br /> +That cramp’d all the kingdom and crippled the crown.</p> +<p class="poetry"> I’ll +tell you in brief<br /> + A story of grief,<br /> + Which happen’d when Cloak was +Commander-in-chief;<br /> + <a name="page275"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 275</span>It tore common prayers,<br /> + Imprison’d lord mayors,<br +/> + In one day it voted down prelates and prayers;<br /> +It made people perjured in point of obedience,<br /> +And the Covenant did cut off the oath of allegiance.<br /> +Then let us endeavour to pull the Cloak down<br /> +That cramp’d all the kingdom and crippled the crown.</p> +<p class="poetry"> It was a +black Cloke,<br /> + In good time be it spoke,<br /> + That kill’d many thousands but never struck +stroke;<br /> + With hatchet and rope<br /> + The forlorn hope<br /> + Did join with the Devil to pull down the Pope;<br /> +It set all the sects in the city to work,<br /> +And rather than fail ’twould have brought in the Turk.<br +/> + Then let us endeavour, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> It seized +on the tower-guns,<br /> + Those fierce demi-gorgons,<br /> + It brought in the bag-pipes, and brought in the +organs;<br /> + The pulpits did smoke,<br /> + The churches did choke,<br /> + And all our religion was turn’d to a cloak.<br +/> +It brought in lay-elders could not write nor read,<br /> +It set public faith up and pull’d down the creed.<br /> + Then let us endeavour, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> This pious +impostor<br /> + Such fury did foster,<br /> + It left us no penny nor no <i>pater-noster</i>;<br +/> + <a name="page276"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 276</span>It threw to the ground<br /> + The commandments down,<br /> + And set up twice twenty times ten of its own;<br /> +It routed the King and villains elected,<br /> +To plunder all those whom they thought disaffected.<br /> + Then let us endeavour, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> To blind +people’s eyes<br /> + This Cloak was so wise,<br /> + It took off ship-money, but set up excise;<br /> + Men brought in their plate<br /> + For reasons of state,<br /> + And gave it to Tom Trumpeter and his mate.<br /> +In pamphlets it writ many specious epistles,<br /> +To cozen poor wenches of bodkins and whistles.<br /> + Then let us endeavour, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> In pulpits +it moved,<br /> + And was much approved<br /> + For crying out, <i>Fight The Lord’s +battles</i>, <i>beloved</i>;<br /> + It bob-tayled the gown,<br /> + Put Prelacy down,<br /> + It trod on the mitre to reach at the crown;<br /> +And into the field it an army did bring,<br /> +To aim at the council but shoot at the King.<br /> + Then let us endeavour, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> It raised +up States<br /> + Whose politic fates<br /> + Do now keep their quarters on the city gates.<br /> + To father and mother,<br /> + To sister and brother,<br /> + It gave a commission to kill one another.<br /> +<a name="page277"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 277</span>It took +up men’s horses at very low rates,<br /> +And plunder’d our goods to secure our estates.<br /> + Then let us endeavour, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> This Cloak +did proceed<br /> + To damnable deed,<br /> + It made the best mirror of majesty bleed;<br /> + Tho’ Cloak did not +do’t,<br /> + He set it on foot,<br /> + By rallying and calling his journeymen +to’t.<br /> +For never had come such a bloody disaster,<br /> +If Cloak had not first drawn a sword at his master.<br /> + Then let us endeavour, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Tho’ +some of them went hence<br /> + By sorrowful sentence,<br /> + This lofty long Cloak is not moved to repentance;<br +/> + But he and his men,<br /> + Twenty thousand times ten,<br /> + Are plotting to do their tricks over again.<br /> +But let this proud Cloak to authority stoop,<br /> +Or <span class="smcap">Dun</span> will provide him a button and +loop.<br /> +Then let us endeavour to pull the Cloak down<br /> +That basely did sever the head from the crown.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Let’s +pray that the King<br /> + And his Parliament<br /> + In sacred and secular things may consent;<br /> + So righteously firm,<br /> + And religiously free,<br /> + That Papists and Atheists suppressed may be.<br /> +<a name="page278"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 278</span>And as +there’s one Deity does over-reign us,<br /> +One faith and one form and one Church may contain us.<br /> +Then peace, truth, and plenty our kingdom will crown,<br /> +And all Popish plots and their plotters shall down.</p> +<h3>THE TIME-SERVER,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR</span><br /> +A MEDLEY.</h3> +<p>From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy +Society, and edited by J. O. Halliwell.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Room</span> for a gamester +that plays at all he sees,<br /> +Whose fickle fancy suits such times as these,<br /> +One that says Amen to every factious prayer,<br /> +From Hugh Peters’ pulpit to St Peter’s chair;<br /> +One that doth defy the Crozier and the Crown,<br /> + But yet can house with blades that carouse,<br /> +Whilst pottle pots tumble down, derry down,<br /> +One that can comply with surplice and with cloak,<br /> + Yet for his end can independ<br /> +Whilst Presbyterian broke Brittain’s yoke.</p> +<p class="poetry">This is the way to trample without +trembling,<br /> + ’Tis the sycophant’s only secure.<br /> +<a name="page279"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +279</span>Covenants and oaths are badges of dissembling,<br /> + ’Tis the politick pulls down the pure.<br /> +To profess and betray, to plunder and pray,<br /> +Is the only ready way to be great;<br /> + Flattery doth the feat;<br /> +Ne’er go, ne’er stir, sir—will venture +further<br /> +Than the greatest dons in the town,<br /> + From a coffer to a crown.</p> +<p class="poetry">I’m in a temperate humour now to think +well,<br /> +Now I’m in another humour for to drink well,<br /> +Then fill us up a beer-bowl, boys, that we<br /> +May drink it, drink it merrily;<br /> +No knavish spy shall understand,<br /> + For, if it should be known,<br /> +’Tis ten to one we shall be trepanned.</p> +<p class="poetry">I’ll drink to them a brace of quarts,<br +/> +Whose anagram is call’d true hearts;<br /> +If all were well, as I would ha’t,<br /> + And Britain cured of its tumour,<br /> +I should very well like my fate,<br /> +And drink my sack at a cheaper rate,<br /> + Without any noise or rumour,<br /> + Oh then I should fix my humour.</p> +<p class="poetry">But since ’tis no such matter, change +your hue,<br /> +I may cog and flatter, so may you;<br /> + Religion is a widgeon, and reason is treason,<br /> +And he that hath a loyal heart may bid the world adieu.</p> +<p class="poetry">We must be like the Scottish man,<br /> + Who, with intent to beat down schism,<br /> +<a name="page280"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 280</span>Brought +in the Presbyterian<br /> + With canon and with catechism.<br /> +If beuk wont do’t, then Jockey shoot,<br /> + For the Church of Scotland doth command;<br /> +And what hath been since they came in<br /> + I think we have cause to understand.</p> +<h3>THE SOLDIER’S DELIGHT.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">(Made in the late times.)</p> +<p>From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy +Society, and edited by J. O. Halliwell.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Fair</span> Phydelia, tempt +no more,<br /> +I may not now thy beauty so adore,<br /> +Nor offer to thy shrine;<br /> +I serve one more divine<br /> + And greater far than you:<br /> +Hark! the trumpet calls away,<br /> + We must go, lest the foe<br /> +Get the field and win the day;<br /> + Then march bravely on,<br /> + Charge them in the van,<br /> +Our cause God’s is, though the odds is<br /> + Ten times ten to one.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Tempt no more, I may not +yield,<br /> +Although thine eyes a kingdom may surprise;<br /> +Leave off thy wanton tales,<br /> +The high-born Prince of Wales<br /> + Is mounted in the field,<br /> +<a name="page281"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 281</span>Where +the loyal gentry flock,<br /> + Though forlorn, nobly born,<br /> +Of a ne’er-decaying stock;<br /> + Cavaliers, be bold, ne’er let go your hold,<br +/> +Those that loiters are by traitors<br /> + Dearly bought and sold.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Phydelia</i>.—One kiss more, and so +farewell.<br /> +<i>Soldier</i>.—Fie, no more! I prithee fool give +o’er;<br /> +Why cloud’st thou thus thy beams?<br /> +I see by these extremes,<br /> + A woman’s heaven or hell.<br /> +Pray the King may have his own,<br /> + That the Queen may be seen<br /> +With her babes on England’s throne;<br /> + Rally up your men, one shall vanquish ten,<br /> +Victory, we come to try our valour once again.</p> +<h3>THE LOYAL SOLDIER.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Loyal Garland, 1686. +Reprinted for the Percy Society, and edited by J. O. +Halliwell.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">When</span> in the field of +Mars we lie,<br /> + Amongst those martial wights,<br /> +Who, never daunted, are to dye<br /> + For King and countrie’s rights;<br /> +As on Belona’s god I wait,<br /> + And her attendant be,<br /> +<a name="page282"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 282</span>Yet, +being absent from my mate,<br /> + I live in misery.</p> +<p class="poetry">When lofty winds aloud do blow,<br /> + It snoweth, hail, or rain,<br /> +And Charon in his boat doth row,<br /> + Yet stedfast I’ll remain;<br /> +And for my shelter in some barn creep,<br /> + Or under some hedge lye;<br /> +Whilst such as do now strong castles keep<br /> + Knows no such misery.</p> +<p class="poetry">When down in straw we tumbling lye,<br /> + With Morpheus’ charms asleep,<br /> +My heavy, sad, and mournful eye<br /> + In security so deep;<br /> +Then do I dream within my arms<br /> + With thee I sleeping lye,<br /> +Then do I dread or fear no harms,<br /> + Nor feel no misery.</p> +<p class="poetry">When all my joys are thus compleat,<br /> + The canons loud do play,<br /> +The drums alarum straight do beat,<br /> + Trumpet sounds, horse, away!<br /> +Awake I then, and nought can find<br /> + But death attending me,<br /> +And all my joys are vanisht quite,—<br /> + This is my misery.</p> +<p class="poetry">When hunger oftentimes I feel,<br /> + And water cold do drink,<br /> +Yet from my colours I’le not steal,<br /> + Nor from my King will shrink;<br /> +<a name="page283"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 283</span>No +traytor base shall make me yield,<br /> + But for the cause I’le be:<br /> +This is my love, pray Heaven to shield,<br /> + And farewell misery.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then to our arms we straight do fly,<br /> + And forthwith march away;<br /> +Few towns or cities we come nigh<br /> + Good liquor us deny;<br /> +In Lethe deep our woes we steep—<br /> + Our loves forgotten be,<br /> +Amongst the jovialst we sing,<br /> + Hang up all misery.</p> +<p class="poetry">Propitious fate, then be more kind,<br /> + Grim death, lend me thy dart,<br /> +O sun and moon, and eke the wind,<br /> + Great Jove, take thou our part;<br /> +That of these Roundheads and these wars<br /> + An end that we may see,<br /> +And thy great name we’ll all applaud,<br /> + And hang all misery.</p> +<h3>THE POLITITIAN.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">Upon an act of Treason made by the +Rebels, etc.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Loyal Garland, 1686. +Reprinted for the Percy Society, and edited by J. O. +Halliwell.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">But</span> since it was +lately enacted high treason<br /> + For a man to speak truth ’gainst the head of a +state,<br /> +<a name="page284"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 284</span>Let +every wise man make a use of his reason<br /> + To think what he will, but take heed what he +prate;<br /> +For the proverb doth learn us,<br /> + He that stays from the battel sleeps in a whole +skin,<br /> + And our words are our own if we keep them within,<br +/> + What fools are we then that to prattle do begin<br +/> +Of things that do not concern us!</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis no matter to me whoe’er gets +the battle,<br /> + The rubs or the crosses, ’tis all one to +me;<br /> +It neither increaseth my goods nor my cattle;<br /> + A beggar’s a beggar, and so he shall be<br /> +Unless he turn traitor.<br /> + Let misers take courses to hoard up their +treasure,<br /> + Whose bounds have no limits, whose minds have no +measure,<br /> + Let me be but quiet and take a little pleasure,<br +/> +A little contents my own nature.</p> +<p class="poetry">But what if the kingdom returns to the prime +ones?<br /> + My mind is a kingdom, and so it shall be;<br /> +I’ll make it appear, if I had but the time once,<br /> + He’s as happy in one as they are in three,<br +/> +If he might but enjoy it.<br /> + He that’s mounted aloft is a mark for the +fate,<br /> + And an envy to every pragmatical pate,<br /> + Whilst he that is low is safe in his estate,<br /> +And the great ones do scorn to annoy him.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page285"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +285</span>I count him no wit that is gifted in rayling<br /> + And flurting at those that above him do sit;<br /> +Whilst they do outwit him with whipping and jailing,<br /> + His purse and his person must pay for his wit.<br /> +But ’tis better to be drinking;<br /> + If sack were reform’d to twelve-pence a +quart<br /> + I’d study for money to merchandise +for’t,<br /> + With a friend that is willing in mirth we would +sport;<br /> +Not a word, but we’d pay it with thinking.</p> +<p class="poetry">My petition shall be that Canary be cheaper,<br +/> + Without either custom or cursed excise;<br /> +That the wits may have freedom to drink deeper and deeper,<br /> + And not be undone whilst our noses we baptize;<br /> +But we’ll liquor them and drench them.<br /> + If this were but granted, who would not desire<br /> + To dub himself one of Apollo’s own quire?<br +/> + And then we will drink whilst our noses are on +fire,<br /> +And the quart pots shall be buckets to quench them.</p> +<h3>A NEW DROLL.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Loyal Garland, 1686. +Edited by J. O. Halliwell.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span> let’s +drink, the time invites,<br /> + Winter and cold weather;<br /> +<a name="page286"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 286</span>For to +spend away long nights,<br /> + And to keep good wits together.<br /> +Better far than cards or dice,<br /> +Isaac’s balls are quaint device,<br /> + Made up with fan and feather.</p> +<p class="poetry">Of strange actions on the seas<br /> + Why should we be jealous?<br /> +Bring us liquor that will please,<br /> + And will make us braver fellows<br /> +Than the bold Venetian fleet,<br /> +When the Turks and they do meet<br /> + Within their Dardanellos.</p> +<p class="poetry">Valentian, that famous town,<br /> + Stood the French man’s wonder;<br /> +Water they employ’d to drown,<br /> + So to cut their troops assunder;<br /> +Turein gave a helpless look,<br /> +While the lofty Spaniard took<br /> + La Ferta and his plunder.</p> +<p class="poetry">As for water, we disclaim<br /> + Mankind’s adversary;<br /> +Once it caused the world’s whole frame<br /> + In the deluge to miscarry;<br /> +And that enemy of joy<br /> +Which sought our freedom to destroy<br /> + And murder good Canary.</p> +<p class="poetry">We that drink have no such thoughts,<br /> + Black and void of reason:<br /> +We take care to fill our vaults<br /> + With good wine of every season;<br /> +<a name="page287"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 287</span>And with +many a chirping cup<br /> +We blow one another up,<br /> + And that’s our only treason.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hear the squibs and mind the bells,<br /> + The fifth of November;<br /> +The parson a sad story tells,<br /> + And with horror doth remember<br /> +How some hot-brain’d traitor wrought<br /> +Plots that would have ruin brought<br /> + To King and every member.</p> +<h3>THE ROYALIST.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">A song made in the Rebellion.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Loyal Garland, 1686. +Reprinted for the Percy Society, and edited by J. O. +Halliwell.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Stay</span>, shut the +gate!<br /> +T’other quart, boys, ’tis not so late<br /> + As you are thinking;<br /> +The stars which you see in the hemisphere be<br /> + Are but studs in your cheeks by good drinking;<br /> +The sun’s gone to tipple all night in the sea, boys,<br /> +To-morrow he’ll blush that he’s paler than we, +boys;<br /> + Drink wine, give him water,<br /> + ’Tis sack makes us the boys.</p> +<p class="poetry">Fill up the glass,<br /> +To the next merry lad let it pass;<br /> + Come, away wi’t;<br /> +Let’s set foot to foot and but give our minds +to’t,<br /> + ’Tis heretical sir, that doth slay wit;<br /> +<a name="page288"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 288</span>Then +hang up good faces, let’s drink till our noses<br /> +Give’s freedom to speak what our fancy disposes,<br /> +Beneath whose protection now under the rose is.</p> +<p class="poetry">Drink off your bowl,<br /> + ’Twill enrich both your head and your soul +with Canary;<br /> +For a carbuncled face saves a tedious race,<br /> + And the Indies about us we carry;<br /> +No Helicon like to the juice of good wine is,<br /> +For Phoebus had never had wit that divine is,<br /> +Had his face not been bow-dy’d as thine is and mine is.</p> +<p class="poetry">This must go round,<br /> + Off with your hats till the pavement be +crown’d with your beavers;<br /> +A red-coated face frights a sergeant and his mace,<br /> + Whilst the constables tremble to shivers.<br /> +In state march our faces like some of that quorum,<br /> +While the . . . do fall down and the vulgar adore ’um,<br +/> +And our noses like link-boys run shining before ’um.</p> +<h3>THE ROYALIST’S RESOLVE.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Loyal Garland, 1686. +Reprinted for the Percy Society.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span>, drawer, some +wine,<br /> +Or we’ll pull down the sign,<br /> + For we are all jovial compounders;<br /> +<a name="page289"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +289</span>We’ll make the house ring<br /> +With healths to our King,<br /> + And confusion light on his confounders.</p> +<p class="poetry">Since former committee<br /> +Afforded no pity,<br /> + Our sorrows in wine we will steep ’um;<br /> +They force us to take<br /> +Two oaths, but we’ll make<br /> + A third, that we ne’er mean to keep +’um.</p> +<p class="poetry">And next, whoe’er sees,<br /> +We’ll drink on our knees<br /> + To the King; may he thirst that repines:<br /> +A fig for those traytors<br /> +That look to our waters,<br /> + They have nothing to do with our wines.</p> +<p class="poetry">And next here’s three bowls<br /> +To all gallant souls<br /> + That for the King did and will venture;<br /> +May they flourish when those<br /> +That are his and our foes<br /> + Are hang’d, and ram’d down to the +center.</p> +<p class="poetry">And may they be found<br /> +In all to abound,<br /> + Both with Heaven and the country’s anger;<br +/> +May they never want fractions,<br /> +Doubts, fears, and distractions,<br /> + Till the gallows-tree frees them from danger.</p> +<h3><a name="page290"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +290</span>LOYALTY TURNED UP TRUMP,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR</span><br /> +THE DANGER OVER.</h3> +<p>From the Loyal Garland, reprinted from a Black-Letter copy, +printed 1686. Reprinted for the Percy society, 1850.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">In</span> vain ill men +attempt us,<br /> + Their day is out of date;<br /> +The fates do now exempt us<br /> + From what we felt of late.<br /> +The nation is grown wiser<br /> + Than to believe their shame;<br /> +He that was the deviser<br /> + Themselves begin to blame.</p> +<p class="poetry">They thought the trumps would ever<br /> + Turn on rebellion’s side,<br /> +But kinder power deliver<br /> + Us from their foolish pride;<br /> +For see, they are deceived,<br /> + And can no more prevail;<br /> +Those who the Rump believed,<br /> + Ashamed are of the tale.</p> +<h3>THE LOYALIST’S ENCOURAGEMENT.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Loyal Garland.<br /> +To the tune of “Now, now the fight’s done.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">You</span> Royalists all, +now rejoice and be glad,<br /> +The day is our own, there’s no cause to be sad,<br /> +<a name="page291"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 291</span>The +tumult of faction is crush’d in its pride,<br /> +And the grand promoters their noddles all hide,<br /> +For fear of a swing, which does make it appear<br /> +Though treason they loved yet for hemp they don’t care.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then let us be bold still, and baffle their +plots,<br /> +That they in the end may prove impotent sots;<br /> +And find both their wit and their malice defeated,<br /> +Nay, find how themselves and their pupils they cheated,<br /> +By heaping and thrusting to unhinge a State,<br /> +Of which Heaven’s guardian fixt is by fate.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though once they the rabble bewitch’d +with their cant,<br /> +Whilst cobler and weaver set up for a saint;<br /> +Yet now the stale cheat they can fasten no more,<br /> +The juggle’s discover’d and they must give +o’er;<br /> +Yet give them their due that such mischief did work,<br /> +Who revile Christian princes and pray for the Turk.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh! give them their due, and let none of +’em want<br /> +A cup of Geneva or Turkish turbant,<br /> +That, clad in their colours, they may not deceive<br /> +The vulgar, too prone and too apt to believe<br /> +The fears they suggest on a groundless pretence,<br /> +On purpose to make ’em repine or their prince.</p> +<h3><a name="page292"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 292</span>THE +TROUPER.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Loyal Garland. A +pleasant song revived.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <span +class="smcap">Come</span>, come, let us drink,<br /> + ’Tis vain to think<br /> +Like fools of grief or sadness;<br /> + Let our money fly<br /> + And our sorrows dye,<br /> +All worldly care is madness;<br /> + But wine and good cheer<br /> + Will, in spite of our fear,<br /> +Inspire us all with gladness.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Let the greedy clowns,<br /> + That do live like hounds,<br /> +They know neither bound nor measure,<br /> + Lament every loss,<br /> + For their wealth is their cross,<br /> +Whose delight is in their treasure;<br /> + Whilst we with our own<br /> + Do go merrily on,<br /> +And spend it at our leisure.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Then trout about the bowl<br +/> + To every loyal soul,<br /> +And to his hand commend it.<br /> + A fig for chink,<br /> + ’Twas made to buy drink,<br /> +Before we depart we’ll end it.<br /> + When we’ve spent our store,<br /> + The nation yields no more,<br /> +And merrily we will spend it.</p> +<h3><a name="page293"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 293</span>ON +THE TIMES,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR</span><br /> +THE GOOD SUBJECT’S WISH.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Loyal Garland.<br /> +To the tune of “Young Phaon.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Good</span> days we see, +let us rejoice,<br /> + In peace and loyalty,<br /> +And still despise the factious noise<br /> + Of those that vainly try<br /> +To undermine our happiness,<br /> + That they may by it get;<br /> +Knavery has great increase<br /> + When honesty does set.</p> +<p class="poetry">But let us baffle all their tricks,<br /> + Our King and country serve;<br /> +And may he never thrive that likes<br /> + Sedition in reserve:<br /> +Then let each in his station rest,<br /> + As all good subjects should;<br /> +And he that otherwise designs,<br /> + May he remain unblest.</p> +<p class="poetry">May traytors ever be deceived<br /> + In all they undertake,<br /> +And never by good men believed;<br /> + May all the plots they make<br /> +Fall heavy on themselves, and may<br /> + They see themselves undone,<br /> +And never have a happy day,<br /> + That would the King dethrone.</p> +<h3><a name="page294"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 294</span>THE +JOVIALISTS’ CORONATION.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Loyal Garland.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Since</span> it must be so, +why then so let it go,<br /> +Let the giddy-brain’d times turn round;<br /> +Now we have our King, let the goblets be crowned,<br /> +And our monarchy thus we recover;<br /> +Whilst the pottles are weeping<br /> + We’ll drench our sad +souls<br /> + In big-belly’d bowls,<br /> +And our sorrows in wine shall lie steeping.<br /> +And we’ll drink till our eyes do run over,<br /> + And prove it by reason,<br /> + It can be no treason<br /> +To drink or to sing<br /> +A mournifal of healths to our new-crowned King.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let us all stand bare in the presence we +are,<br /> +Let our noses like bonfires shine;<br /> +Instead of the conduits, let pottles run wine,<br /> +To perfect this true coronation;<br /> +And we that are loyal, in drink shall be peers;<br /> + For that face that wears claret<br +/> + Can traytors defie all,<br /> +And out-stares the bores of our nation;<br /> + In sign of obedience<br /> + Our oaths of allegiance<br /> +Beer glasses shall be,<br /> +And he that tipples tends to jollitry.</p> +<p class="poetry">But if in this reign a halberdly train,<br /> +Or a constable, chance to revel,<br /> +And would with his twyvels maliciously swell,<br /> +<a name="page295"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 295</span>And +against the King’s party raise arms:<br /> +Then the drawers, like yeomen o’ the guard,<br /> + With quart-pots<br /> + Shall fuddle the sots,<br /> +Till they make ’um both cuckolds and freemen,<br /> +And on their wives beat up alarms,<br /> + Thus as the health passes,<br /> + We’ll triple our glasses,<br +/> +And count it no sin<br /> +To drink and be loyal in defence of our King.</p> +<h3>THE LOYAL PRISONER.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Loyal Garland.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">How</span> happy’s +that pris’ner that conquers his fate<br /> + With silence, and ne’er on bad fortune +complains,<br /> +But carelessly plays with keys on his grate,<br /> + And he makes a sweet concert with them and his +chains!<br /> +He drowns care in sack, while his thoughts are opprest,<br /> +And he makes his heart float like a cork in his breast.<br /> +Then since we are slaves, and all islanders be,<br /> +And our land a large prison enclosed by the sea,<br /> +We’ll drink off the ocean, and set ourselves free,<br /> +For man is the world’s epitomy.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let tyrants wear purple, deep-dy’d in the +blood<br /> + Of those they have slain, their scepters to sway,<br +/> +<a name="page296"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 296</span>If our +conscience be clear, and our title be good,<br /> + With the rags that hang on us we are richer than +they;<br /> +We’ll drink down at night what we beg or can borrow,<br /> +And sleep without plotting for more the next morrow.<br /> + Then since, etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let the usurer watch o’er his bags and +his house,<br /> + To keep that from robbers he rak’d from his +debtors,<br /> +Which at midnight cries thieves at the noise of a mouse,<br /> + And he looks if his trunks are fast bound to their +fetters;<br /> +When once he’s grown rich enough for a State’s +plot,<br /> +But in one hour plunders what threescore years got.<br /> + Then since, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Come, drawer, fill each man a peck of old +sherry,<br /> + This brimmer shall bid all our senses good-night;<br +/> +When old Aristotle was frolic and merry,<br /> + By the juice of the grape, he stagger’d +out-right;<br /> +Copernicus once, in a drunken fit, found<br /> +By the course of’s brains that the world did turn round.<br +/> + Then since, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis sack makes our faces like comets to +shine,<br /> + And gives tincture beyond a complexion mask.<br /> +<a name="page297"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 297</span>Diogenes +fell so in love with his wine,<br /> + That when ’twas all out he dwelt in the +cask,<br /> +And being shut up within a close room,<br /> +He, dying, requested a tub for his tomb.<br /> + Then since, +etc.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let him never so privately muster his gold,<br +/> + His angels will their intelligence be;<br /> +How closely they’re prest in their canvas hold,<br /> + And they want the State-souldier to set them all +free:<br /> +Let them pine and be hanged, we’ll merrily sing,<br /> +Who hath nothing to lose, may cry, God bless the King.<br /> + Then since, +etc.</p> +<h3>CANARY’S CORONATION.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From the Loyal Garland.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Come</span>, let’s +purge our brains<br /> +From ale and grains,<br /> + That do smell of anarchy;<br /> +Let’s chuse a King<br /> +From whose blood may spring<br /> + Such a sparkling progeny;<br /> +It will be fit, strew mine in it,<br /> + Whose flames are bright and clear;<br /> +We’ll not bind our hands with drayman’s bands,<br /> + When as we may be freer;<br /> +Why should we droop, or basely stoop<br /> + To popular ale or beer?</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page298"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +298</span>Who shall be King? how comes the thing<br /> + For which we all are met?<br /> +Claret is a prince that hath long since<br /> + In the royal order set:<br /> +His face is spread with a warlike seed,<br /> + And so he loves to see men;<br /> +When he bears the sway, his subjects they<br /> + Shall be as good as freemen;<br /> +But here’s the plot, almost forgot,<br /> + ’Tis too much burnt with women.</p> +<p class="poetry">By the river of Rhine is a valiant wine<br /> + That can all other replenish;<br /> +Let’s then consent to the government<br /> + And the royal rule of Rhenish:<br /> +The German wine will warm the chine,<br /> + And frisk in every vein;<br /> +’Twill make the bride forget to chide,<br /> + And call him to’t again:<br /> +But that’s not all, he is too small<br /> + To be our sovereign.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let us never think of a noble drink,<br /> + But with notes advance on high,<br /> +Let’s proclaim good Canary’s name,—<br /> + Heaven bless his Majesty!<br /> +He is a King in everything,<br /> + Whose nature doth renounce all,<br /> +He’ll make us skip and nimbly trip<br /> + From ceiling to the groundsil;<br /> +Especially when poets be<br /> + Lords of the Privy Council.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page299"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +299</span>But a vintner will his taster be,<br /> + Here’s nothing that can him let;<br /> +A drawer that hath a good palat<br /> + Shall be squire of the gimblet.<br /> +The bar-boys shall be pages all,<br /> + A tavern well-prepared,<br /> +And nothing shall be spared;<br /> + In jovial sort shall be the court,<br /> +Wine-porters that are soldiers tall<br /> + Be yeomen of the guard.</p> +<p class="poetry">But if a cooper we with a red nose see<br /> + In any part of the town;<br /> +The cooper shall, with his aids-royal,<br /> + Bear the sceptre of the crown;<br /> +Young wits that wash away their cash<br /> + In wine and recreation,<br /> +Who hates ale and beer, shall be welcome here<br /> + To give their approbation;<br /> +So shall all you that will allow<br /> + Canary’s recreation.</p> +<h3>THE MOURNFUL SUBJECTS,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR</span><br /> +THE WHOLE NATION’S LAMENTATION,<br /> +FROM THE HIGHEST TO THE LOWEST.</h3> +<p>The Mournful Subjects, or the Whole Nation’s +Lamentation, from the Highest to the Lowest; who did with brinish +tears (the true signs of sorrow) bewail the death of their most +gracious <a name="page300"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +300</span>Soveraign King Charles the Second, who departed this +life Feb. 6th, 1684, and was interred in Westminster Abbey, in +King Henry the Seventh’s Chapel, on Saturday night last, +being the 14th day of the said month; to the sollid grief and +sorrow of all his loving subjects.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">From vol. i. of the Roxburgh +Ballads in Brit. Mus.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Tune, “Troy Town, or the +Duchess of Suffolk.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">True</span> subjects mourn, +and well they may,<br /> + Of each degree, both lords and earls,<br /> +Which did behold that dismal day,<br /> + The death of princely pious Charles;<br /> +Some thousand weeping tears did fall<br /> +At his most sollid funeral.</p> +<p class="poetry">He was a prince of clemency,<br /> + Whose love and mercy did abound;<br /> +His death may well lamented be<br /> + Through all the nations Europe round;<br /> +Unto the ears of Christian kings<br /> +His death unwelcome tidings brings.</p> +<p class="poetry">All those that ever thought him ill,<br /> + And did disturb him in his reign,—<br /> +Let horrour now their conscience fill,<br /> + And strive such actions to restrain;<br /> +For sure they know not what they do,<br /> +The time will come when they shall rue.</p> +<p class="poetry">How often villains did design<br /> + By cruelty his blood to spill,<br /> +Yet by the Providence divine<br /> + God would not let them have their will,<br /> +But did preserve our gracious King,<br /> +Under the shadow of his wing.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page301"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +301</span>We grieved his soul while he was here,<br /> + When we would not his laws obey;<br /> +Therefore the Lord he was severe,<br /> + And took our gracious prince away:<br /> +We were not worthy to enjoy<br /> +The prince whom subjects would annoy.</p> +<p class="poetry">In peace he did lay down his head,<br /> + The sceptre and the royal crown;<br /> +His soul is now to heaven fled,<br /> + Above the reach of mortal frown,<br /> +Where joy and glory will not cease,<br /> +In presence with the King of Peace.</p> +<p class="poetry">Alas! we had our liberty,<br /> + He never sought for to devour<br /> +By a usurping tyranny,<br /> + To rule by arbitrary power;<br /> +No, no, in all his blessed reign<br /> +We had no cause for to complain.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let mourners now lament the loss<br /> + Of him that did the scepter sway,<br /> +And look upon it as a cross<br /> + That he from us is snatch’d away;<br /> +Though he is free from care or woe,<br /> +Yet we cannot forget him so.</p> +<p class="poetry">But since it was thy blessed will<br /> + To call him from a sinful land,<br /> +Oh let us all be thankful still<br /> + That it was done by thine own hand:<br /> +No pitch of honour can be free<br /> +From Death’s usurping tyranny.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page302"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +302</span>The fourteen day of February<br /> + They did interr our gracious Charles;<br /> +His funeral solemnity,<br /> + Accompanied with lords and earls,<br /> +Four Dukes, I, and Prince George by name,<br /> +Went next the King with all his train.</p> +<p class="poetry">And thus they to the Abbey went<br /> + To lay him in his silent tomb,<br /> +Where many inward sighs were spent<br /> + To think upon their dismal doom.<br /> +Whole showers of tears afresh then fell<br /> +When they beheld his last farewell.</p> +<p class="poetry">Since it is so, that all must die,<br /> + And must before our God appear,<br /> +Oh let us have a watchful eye,<br /> + Over our conversation here;<br /> +That like great Charles, our King and friend,<br /> +We all may have a happy end.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let England by their loyalty<br /> + Repair the breach which they did make;<br /> +And let us all united be<br /> + To gracious James, for Charles his sake;<br /> +And let there be no more discord,<br /> +But love the King and fear the Lord.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Printed for F. Deacon in Guilt-Spur +Street.</p> +<h3><a name="page303"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +303</span>“MEMENTO MORI.”</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">AN ELOGY ON THE DEATH OF HIS +SACRED<br /> +MAJESTY KING CHARLES II., OF<br /> +BLESSED MEMORY.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">From the King’s Pamphlets, +British Museum.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Unwelcome</span> +news! Whitehall its sable wears,<br /> +And each good subject lies dissolved in tears!<br /> +Justly indeed; for Charles is dead, the great,<br /> +(Who can so much as such great griefs repeat?)<br /> +King Charles the good, in whom that day there fell<br /> +More than one tribe in this our Israel!<br /> +Ah! cruel Death! we find thy fatal sting<br /> +In losing him who was so good a King,—<br /> +A King so wise, so just, and he’d great part<br /> +In Solomon’s wisdom and in David’s heart;<br /> +A King! whose virtues only to rehearse<br /> +Rather requires a volume than a verse.<br /> +Sprung from the loyns of Charles of blessed fame,<br /> +A worthy son of his great father’s name,<br /> +His parent’s and his grandsire’s virtues he,<br /> +As h’ did their crown, enjoy’d <i>ex traduce</i>,<br +/> +Of th’ best and greatest of Kings the epitome.<br /> +His justice such as him none could affright<br /> +From doing t’all to God and subjects right.<br /> +Punish he could, but, like Heaven’s Majesty,<br /> +Would that a traitor should repent, not die.<br /> +His prudence to the laws due vigour gave,<br /> +He saved others and himself did save.<br /> +His valour and his courage, write who can?<br /> +Being a good souldier ere he was a man.<br /> +<a name="page304"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +304</span>Wrestling with sorrows in a land unknown,<br /> +Whilst Herod did usurp his royal throne,<br /> +Banish’d his native country, every day,<br /> +Like Moses, at the brink of death he lay.<br /> +But that storm’s over, and blest be that hand<br /> +That gave him conduct to his peaceful land;<br /> +Where this great King the Gordian knot unties,<br /> +Of Heaven’s, the kingdom’s, and his enemies;<br /> +Not with the sword, but with his grace and love,<br /> +Giving to those their lives that for his strove:<br /> +Never did person so much mercy breath<br /> +Since our blest Saviour’s and his father’s death.<br +/> +In fine, his actions may our pattern be,<br /> +His godly life, the Christian diary;<br /> +But now he’s dead, alas! our David’s gone,<br /> +And having served his generation,<br /> +Is fall’n asleep; that glorious star’s no more<br /> +That English wise men led unto the shore<br /> +Of peace, where gospel-truth’s protest<br /> +Cherished within our pious mother’s breast,<br /> +And with protection of such Kings still blest;<br /> +Blest with his piety and the nation too,<br /> +Happy in’s reign, with milk and honey flew;<br /> +Yea, blest so much with peace and nature’s store<br /> +Heaven could scarce give or we desire he more;<br /> +But yet, alas! he’s dead! Mourn, England, mourn,<br +/> +And all your scarlet into black cloth turn;<br /> +Let dust and ashes with your tears comply.<br /> +To weep, not sing, his mournful elegy;<br /> +And let your love to Charles be shown hereby<br /> +In rendering James your prayers and loyalty.<br /> +Long may Great James these kingdoms’ sceptre sway,<br /> +And may his subjects lovingly obey,<br /> +<a name="page305"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 305</span>Whilst +with joint comfort all agree to sing,<br /> +Heaven bless these kingdoms and “God save the +King!”</p> +<p>London: printed by F. Millet for W. Thackeray, at the sign of +the Angel in Duck Lane, 1685.</p> +<h3>ACCESSION OF JAMES II.</h3> +<p>From “Read’s Weekly Journal, or British +Gazetteer.” Saturday, May 15th, 1731. This was +a Jacobite Journal, and this song was reproduced at the time, +from an earlier period. The allusions are evidently to the +death of Charles II. and the succession of James II.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">What</span> means, honest +shepherd, this cloud on thy brow?<br /> +Say, where is thy mirth and thy melody now?<br /> +Thy pipe thrown aside, and thy looks full of thought,<br /> +As silent and sad as a bird newly caught.<br /> +Has any misfortune befallen thy flocks,<br /> +Some lamb been betray’d by the craft of the fox;<br /> +Or murrain, more fatal, just seized on thy herd;<br /> +Or has thy dear Phyllis let slip a cross word?</p> +<p class="poetry">The season indeed may to musing incline,<br /> +Now that grey-bearded Winter makes Autumn resign;<br /> +The hills all around us their russet put on,<br /> +And the skies seem in mourning for loss of the sun.<br /> +<a name="page306"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 306</span>The +winds make the tree, where thou sitt’st, shake its head;<br +/> +Yet tho’ with dry leaves mother earth’s lap is +spread,<br /> +Her bosom, to cheer it, is verdant with wheat,<br /> +And the woods can supply us with pastime and meat.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh! no, says the shepherd, I mourn none of +these,<br /> +Content with such changes as Heaven shall please;<br /> +Tho’ now we have got the wrong side of the year,<br /> +’Twill turn up again, and fresh beauties appear:<br /> +But the loss that I grieve for no time can restore;<br /> +Our master that lov’d us so well is no more;<br /> +That oak which we hop’d wou’d long shelter us all,<br +/> +Is fallen; then well may we shake at its fall.</p> +<p class="poetry">Where find we a pastor so kind and so good,<br +/> +So careful to feed us with wholesomest food,<br /> +To watch for our safety, and drive far away<br /> +The sly prouling fox that would make us his prey?<br /> +Oh! may his remembrance for ever remain<br /> +To shame those hard shepherds who, mindful of gain,<br /> +Only look at their sheep with an eye to the fleece,<br /> +And watch ’em but so as the fox watch’d the +geese.</p> +<p class="poetry">Whom now shall I choose for the theme of my +song?<br /> +Or must my poor pipe on the willow be hung?<br /> +No more to commend that good nature and sense,<br /> +Which always cou’d please, but ne’er once gave +offence.<br /> +What honour directed he firmly pursu’d,<br /> +Yet would not his judgment on others intrude;<br /> +<a name="page307"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 307</span>Still +ready to help with his service and vote,<br /> +But ne’er to thrust oar in another man’s boat.</p> +<p class="poetry">No more, honest shepherd, these sorrows +resound,<br /> +The virtues thou praisest, so hard to be found,<br /> +Are yet not all fled, for the swain who succeeds<br /> +To his fields and his herds is true heir to his deeds;<br /> +His pattern he’ll follow, his gentleness use,<br /> +Take care of the shepherds and cherish the muse:<br /> +Then cease for the dead thy impertinent care,<br /> +Rejoice, he survives in his brother and heir.</p> +<h3><span class="GutSmall">ON THE MOST HIGH AND MIGHTY +MONARCH</span><br /> +KING JAMES,<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ON HIS EXALTATION ON THE THRONE OF +ENGLAND.</span></h3> +<p>Being an excellent new song. From a “Collection of +One Hundred and Eighty Loyal Songs, written since +1678.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">To the tune of “Hark! the +Thundering Cannons roar.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Hark</span>! the bells and +steeples ring!<br /> +A health to James our royal King;<br /> +Heaven approves the offering,<br /> + Resounding in chorus;<br /> +Let our sacrifice aspire,<br /> +Richest gems perfume the fire,<br /> +Angels and the sacred quire<br /> + Have led the way before us.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page308"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +308</span>Thro’ loud storms and tempests driven,<br /> +This wrong’d prince to us was given,<br /> +The mighty James, preserved by Heaven<br /> + To be a future blessing;<br /> +The anointed instrument,<br /> +Good great Charles to represent,<br /> +And fill our souls with that content<br /> + Which we are now possessing.</p> +<p class="poetry">Justice, plenty, wealth, and peace,<br /> +With the fruitful land’s increase,<br /> +All the treasures of the seas,<br /> + With him to us are given;<br /> +As the brother, just and good,<br /> +From whose royal father’s blood<br /> +Clemency runs like a flood,<br /> + A legacy from Heaven.</p> +<p class="poetry">Summon’d young to fierce alarms,<br /> +Born a man in midst of arms,<br /> +His good angels kept from harms—<br /> + The people’s joy and wonder;<br /> +Early laurels crown’d his brow,<br /> +And the crowd did praise allow,<br /> +Whilst against the Belgick foe<br /> + Great Jove implored his thunder.</p> +<p class="poetry">Like him none e’er fill’d the +throne,<br /> +Never courage yet was known<br /> +With so much conduct met in one,<br /> + To claim our due devotion;<br /> +Who made the Belgick lion roar,<br /> +Drove ’em back to their own shore,<br /> +To humble and encroach no more<br /> + Upon the British ocean.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page309"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +309</span>When poor Holland first grew proud,<br /> +Saucy, insolent, and loud,<br /> +Great James subdued the boisterous crowd,<br /> + The foaming ocean stemming;<br /> +His country’s glory and its good<br /> +He valued dearer than his blood,<br /> +And rid sole sovereign o’er his flood,<br /> + In spight of French or Fleming.</p> +<p class="poetry">When he the foe had overcome,<br /> +Brought them peace and conquest home,<br /> +Exiled in foreign parts to roam,<br /> + Ungrateful rebels vote him;<br /> +But spite of all their insolence,<br /> +Inspired with god-like patience,<br /> +The rightful heir, kind Providence<br /> + Did to a throne promote him.</p> +<p class="poetry">May justice at his elbow wait<br /> +To defend the Church and State,<br /> +The subject and this monarch’s date<br /> + May no storm e’er dissever:<br /> +May he long adorn this place<br /> +With his royal brother’s grace,<br /> +His mercy and his tenderness,<br /> + To rule this land for ever.</p> +<h3>IN A SUMMER’S DAY.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">From Hogg’s Jacobite +Relics.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">In</span> a summer’s +day when all was gay<br /> + The lads and lasses met<br /> +<a name="page310"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 310</span>In a +flowery mead, when each lovely maid<br /> + Was by her true love set.<br /> +Dick took the glass, and drank to his lass,<br /> +And <i>Jamie’s</i> health around did pass;<br /> +Huzza! they cried; Huzza! they all replied,<br /> + God bless our noble King.</p> +<p class="poetry">To the Queen, quothiwell; Drink it off, says +Nell,<br /> + They say she is wondrous pretty;<br /> +And the prince, says Hugh; That’s right, says Sue;<br /> + God send him home, says Katy;<br /> +May the powers above this tribe remove,<br /> +And send us back the man we love.<br /> +Huzza! they cried; Huzza! they all replied,<br /> + God bless our noble King.</p> +<p class="poetry">The liquor spent, they to dancing went,<br /> + Each gamester took his mate;<br /> +Ralph bow’d to Moll, and Hodge to Doll,<br /> + Hal took out black-eyed Kate.<br /> +Name your dance, quoth John; Bid him, says Anne,<br /> +Play, The King shall enjoy his own again.<br /> +Huzza! they cried; Huzza! they all replied,<br /> + God bless our noble King.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">THE END.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">JOHN CHILDS +AND SON, PRINTERS.</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1" +class="footnote">[1]</a> This stanza is omitted in most +collections. Walker was a colonel in the parliamentary +army; and afterwards a member of the Committee of Safety.</p> +<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2" +class="footnote">[2]</a> The Directory for the Public +Worship of God, ordered by the Assembly of Divines at Westminster +in 1644, to supersede the Book of Common Prayer.</p> +<p><a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3" +class="footnote">[3]</a> The Earl of Thomond.</p> +<p><a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4" +class="footnote">[4]</a> The Excise, first introduced by +the Long Parliament, was particularly obnoxious to the Tory +party. Dr Johnson more than a hundred years later shared +all the antipathy of his party to it, and in his Dictionary +defined it to be “a hateful tax levied upon commodities, +and adjudged not by the common judges of property, but by +wretches hired by those to whom excise is paid.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote5"></a><a href="#citation5" +class="footnote">[5]</a> Henry the Eighth. The +comparison is made in other ballads of the age. To play old +Harry with any one is a phrase that seems to have originated with +those who suffered by the confiscation of church property.</p> +<p><a name="footnote6"></a><a href="#citation6" +class="footnote">[6]</a> The Marquis of Winchester, the +brave defender of his house at Basing, had been made prisoner by +Cromwell at the storming of that house in 1645. Waller had +been foiled in his attempt on this place in the year +preceding.—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7" +class="footnote">[7]</a> Sir John Ogle, one of the Royalist +commanders, who was intrusted with the defence of Winchester +Castle, which he surrendered on conditions just before the siege +of Basing House.—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote8"></a><a href="#citation8" +class="footnote">[8]</a> Wren, bishop of Ely, was committed +to the Tower in 1641, accused with high +“misdemeanours” in his diocese.</p> +<p><a name="footnote9"></a><a href="#citation9" +class="footnote">[9]</a> David Jenkins, a Welsh Judge, who +had been made prisoner at the taking of Hereford, and committed +first to Newgate and afterwards to the Tower. He refused to +acknowledge the authority of the Parliament, and was the author +of several tracts published during the year (while he was +prisoner in the Tower), which made a great noise.—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote10"></a><a href="#citation10" +class="footnote">[10]</a> Sir Francis Wortley, Bart., was +made a prisoner in 1644, at the taking of Walton House, near +Wakefield, by Sir Thomas Fairfax.</p> +<p><a name="footnote11"></a><a href="#citation11" +class="footnote">[11]</a> Sir Edward Hales, Bart., of +Woodchurch, in Kent, had been member for Queenborough in the Isle +of Sheppey. He was not a Royalist.</p> +<p><a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12" +class="footnote">[12]</a> Sir George Strangways, Bart., +according to the marginal note in the original. Another of +the name, Sir John Strangways, was taken at the surrender of +Sherborne Castle.</p> +<p><a name="footnote13"></a><a href="#citation13" +class="footnote">[13]</a> Sir Henry Bedingfield, Bart., of +Norfolk; Sir Walter Blount, Bart., of Worcester; and Sir Francis +Howard, Bart., of the North, were committed to the Tower on the +22nd of January, 1646.</p> +<p><a name="footnote14"></a><a href="#citation14" +class="footnote">[14]</a> The horrible barbarities +committed by the Irish rebels had made the Catholics so much +abhorred in England, that every English member of that community +was suspected of plotting the same massacres in England.—T. +W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote15"></a><a href="#citation15" +class="footnote">[15]</a> Sir John Hewet, of +Huntingdonshire, was committed to the Tower on the 28th of +January, 1645(–6).</p> +<p><a name="footnote16"></a><a href="#citation16" +class="footnote">[16]</a> Sir Thomas Lunsford, Bart., the +celebrated Royalist officer, was committed to the Tower on the +22nd of January, 1646. The violence and barbarities which +he and his troop were said to have perpetrated led to the popular +belief that he was in the habit of eating children.</p> +<blockquote><p>From Fielding and from Vavasour,<br /> + Both ill-affected men;<br /> +From Lunsford eke dilver us,<br /> + That eateth up children.<br /> + + +Loyal Songs, ed. 1731, i. 38.</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right">T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote17"></a><a href="#citation17" +class="footnote">[17]</a> Sir William Lewis, one of the +eleven members who had been impeached by the army.</p> +<p><a name="footnote18"></a><a href="#citation18" +class="footnote">[18]</a> Col. Giles Strangwaies, of +Dorsetshire, taken with Sir Lewis Dives, at the surrender of +Sherborne, was committed to the Tower on the 28th August, +1645. He was member for Bridport in the Long Parliament, +and was one of those who attended Charles’s +“Mongrel” Parliament at Oxford.</p> +<p><a name="footnote19"></a><a href="#citation19" +class="footnote">[19]</a> Sir Lewis Dives, an active +Royalist, was governor of Sherborne Castle for the King, and had +been made a prisoner by Fairfax in August, 1645, when that +fortress was taken by storm. He was brother-in-law to Lord +Digby.</p> +<p><a name="footnote20"></a><a href="#citation20" +class="footnote">[20]</a> Sir John Morley, of Newcastle, +committed to the Tower on the 18th of July, 1645.</p> +<p><a name="footnote21"></a><a href="#citation21" +class="footnote">[21]</a> King was a Royalist general, in +the north, who was slain July, 1643.</p> +<p><a name="footnote22"></a><a href="#citation22" +class="footnote">[22]</a> Sir William Morton, of +Gloucestershire, committed to the Tower on the 17th August, +1644. Cardinal Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury, brought +about the marriage between King Henry VII. and the daughter of +Edward IV., and thus effected the unison of the rival houses of +York and Lancaster.</p> +<p><a name="footnote23"></a><a href="#citation23" +class="footnote">[23]</a> Thomas Coningsby, Esq., of +Northmyus in Hertfordshire, committed to the Tower in November, +1642, for reading the King’s commission of array in that +county.</p> +<p><a name="footnote24"></a><a href="#citation24" +class="footnote">[24]</a> Sir Wingfield Bodenham, of the +county of Rutland, committed to the Tower on the 31st of July, +1643.</p> +<p><a name="footnote25"></a><a href="#citation25" +class="footnote">[25]</a> Sir Henry Vaughan, a Welsh +knight, committed to the Tower on the 18th July, 1645.</p> +<p><a name="footnote26"></a><a href="#citation26" +class="footnote">[26]</a> Lilburn was, as has been +observed, in the Tower for his practices against the present +order of things, he being an advocate of extreme democratic +principles; and he was there instructed in knotty points of law +by Judge Jenkins, to enable him to torment and baffle the party +in power. It was Jenkins who said of Lilburne that +“If the world were emptied of all but John Lilburne, +Lilburne would quarrel with John, and John with +Lilburne.”—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote27"></a><a href="#citation27" +class="footnote">[27]</a> Mr Thomas Violet, of London, +goldsmith, committed to the Tower January 6th, 1643(–4), +for carrying a letter from the King to the mayor and common +council of London.</p> +<p><a name="footnote28"></a><a href="#citation28" +class="footnote">[28]</a> Dr Hudson had been concerned in +the King’s transactions with the Scots, previous to his +delivering himself up to them, and he and Ashburnham had been his +sole attendants in his flight from Oxford for that +purpose.—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote29"></a><a href="#citation29" +class="footnote">[29]</a> Poyntz and Massey were staunch +Presbyterians, and their party counted on their assistance in +opposing the army: but they withdrew, when the quarrel seemed to +be near coming to extremities.</p> +<p><a name="footnote30"></a><a href="#citation30" +class="footnote">[30]</a> Glynn was one of the eleven +members impeached by the army.</p> +<p><a name="footnote31"></a><a href="#citation31" +class="footnote">[31]</a> It was believed at this time that +Fairfax was favourable to the restoration of the King.</p> +<p><a name="footnote32"></a><a href="#citation32" +class="footnote">[32]</a> The “Jack Ketch” of +the day.</p> +<p><a name="footnote33"></a><a href="#citation33" +class="footnote">[33]</a> The copy in the “Rump +Songs” has “Smee and his tub.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote34"></a><a href="#citation34" +class="footnote">[34]</a> The old proverbial expression of +“the devil and his dam” was founded on an article of +popular superstition which is now obsolete. In 1598, a +Welshman, or borderer, writes to Lord Burghley for leave +“to drive the devill and his dam” from the castle of +Skenfrith, where they were said to watch over hidden treasure: +“The voyce of the countrey goeth there is a dyvell and his +dame, one sitts upon a hogshed of gold, the other upon a hogshed +of silver.” (Queen Elizabeth and her Times, ii. +397.) The expression is common in our earlier dramatic +poets: thus Shakespeare,—</p> +<blockquote><p>—“I’ll have a bout with thee;<br +/> +Devil, or devil’s dam, I’ll conjure thee:<br /> +Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right">(Hen. V. Part I. Act I. sc. +5.)<br /> +T. W.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote35"></a><a href="#citation35" +class="footnote">[35]</a> The prediction was not +<i>quite</i> so speedily verified.</p> +<p><a name="footnote36"></a><a href="#citation36" +class="footnote">[36]</a> Colonel Hewson, originally a +shoemaker.</p> +<p><a name="footnote37"></a><a href="#citation37" +class="footnote">[37]</a> Newspapers.</p> +<p><a name="footnote38"></a><a href="#citation38" +class="footnote">[38]</a> In the seventeenth century +Lancashire enjoyed an unhappy pre-eminence in the annals of +superstition, and it was regarded especially as a land of +witches. This fame appears to have originated partly in the +execution of a number of persons in 1612, who were pretended to +have been associated together in the crime of witchcraft, and who +held their unearthly meetings at the Malkin Tower, in the forest +of Pendle. In 1613 was published an account of the trials, +in a thick pamphlet, entitled “The Wonderful Discoverie of +Witches in the Countie of Lancaster. With the Arraignment +and Triall of nineteene notorious Witches, at the Assizes and +general Goale Deliverie, holden in the Castle of Lancaster, on +Monday, the seventeenth of August last, 1612. Published and +set forth by commandment of his Majesties Justices of Assize in +the North Parts, by Thomas Potts, Esquier.” +“The famous History of the Lancashire Witches” +continued to be popular as a chap-book up to the beginning of the +nineteenth century.—T. <span +class="smcap">Wright</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote39"></a><a href="#citation39" +class="footnote">[39]</a> An allusion to the Dutch War of +1651 and 1652.</p> +<p><a name="footnote40"></a><a href="#citation40" +class="footnote">[40]</a> Oliver Cromwell.</p> +<p><a name="footnote41"></a><a href="#citation41" +class="footnote">[41]</a> The Welsh were frequently the +subject of satirical allusions during the civil wars and the +Commonwealth.</p> +<p><a name="footnote42"></a><a href="#citation42" +class="footnote">[42]</a> Speaker of the Long +Parliament.</p> +<p><a name="footnote43"></a><a href="#citation43" +class="footnote">[43]</a> Cromwell’s wife.</p> +<p><a name="footnote44"></a><a href="#citation44" +class="footnote">[44]</a> Cromwell’s two sons, +Richard and Henry.</p> +<p><a name="footnote45"></a><a href="#citation45" +class="footnote">[45]</a> Cromwell’s daughter.</p> +<p><a name="footnote46"></a><a href="#citation46" +class="footnote">[46]</a> Col. Pride, originally a +brewer’s drayman.</p> +<p><a name="footnote47"></a><a href="#citation47" +class="footnote">[47]</a> Walter Strickland, M.P. for a +Cornish borough.</p> +<p><a name="footnote48"></a><a href="#citation48" +class="footnote">[48]</a> Monk was with his troops in +Scotland, but had declared himself an approver of the proceedings +of the Parliament.</p> +<p><a name="footnote49"></a><a href="#citation49" +class="footnote">[49]</a> Dr John Owen, Joseph Caryl, and +Philip Nye, were three of the most eminent divines of this +eventful age. Caryl, who was a moderate independent, was +the author of the well-known “Commentary on +Job.” Dr Owen enjoyed the especial favour of +Cromwell, who made him Dean of Christchurch, Oxford; in his youth +he had shown an inclination to Presbyterianism, but early in the +war he embraced the party of the Independents. He was a +most prolific writer. Nye was also an eminent writer: +previous to 1647 he had been a zealous Presbyterian, but on the +rise of Cromwell’s influence he joined the Independents, +and was employed on several occasions by that party.—T. +W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote50"></a><a href="#citation50" +class="footnote">[50]</a> Col. John Ireton was the brother +of the more celebrated Henry Ireton, and was an alderman of +London. He appears to have been clerk of the Council of +Officers at Wallingford House.</p> +<p><a name="footnote51"></a><a href="#citation51" +class="footnote">[51]</a> Col. Robert Tichbourne was also +an alderman, and had been Lord Mayor in 1658. He was an +enthusiast in religion of the Independent party, and published +several books, among which one was very celebrated, and is often +referred to in the tracts of this period, entitled, “A +Cluster of Canaan’s Grapes. Being severall +experimented truths received through private communion with God +by his Spirit, grounded on Scripture, and presented to open view +for publique edification.” London, 4to, Feb. 16, +1649. In a satirical tract of the year 1660 he is made to +say, “I made my mother, the city, drunk with the clusters +which I brought from Canaan, and she in her drink made me a +colonel.” After the return of the secluded members to +the House, and the triumph of the city and the Presbyterian +party, Ireton and Tichbourne were committed to the Tower, charged +with aiming at the overthrow of the liberties of the city, and +other grave misdemeanours. There are in the British Museum +two satirical tracts relating to their imprisonment: 1. +“The Apology of Robert Tichborn and John Ireton. +Being a serious Vindication of themselves and the Good old Cause, +from the imputations cast upon them and it by the triumphing city +and nation in this their day of desertion. Printed for +everybody but the light-heeled apprentices and head-strong +masters of this wincing city of London.” (March 12, +1659–60.) 2. “Brethren in Iniquity: or, a +Beardless Pair; held forth in a Dialogue betwixt Tichburn and +Ireton, Prisoners in the Tower of London.” 4to. +(April 30, 1660.)</p> +<p><a name="footnote52"></a><a href="#citation52" +class="footnote">[52]</a> George Monk and John Lambert.</p> +<p><a name="footnote53"></a><a href="#citation53" +class="footnote">[53]</a> The eleventh of February was the +day on which Monck overthrew the Rump, by declaring for the +admission of the secluded members.</p> +<p><a name="footnote54"></a><a href="#citation54" +class="footnote">[54]</a> On the tenth of February Monk, by +order of the Parliament, had entered the city in a hostile +manner. “Mr Fage told me,” says Pepys, +“what Monck had done in the city, how he had pulled down +the most parts of the gates and chains that he could break down, +and that he was now gone back to Whitehall. The city look +mighty blank, and cannot tell what in the world to +do.” The next day he turned from the Parliament, and +took part with the city.</p> +<p><a name="footnote55"></a><a href="#citation55" +class="footnote">[55]</a> Thomas Scot and Luke Robinson +were sent by the Parliament to expostulate with Monk, but without +effect.</p> +<p><a name="footnote56"></a><a href="#citation56" +class="footnote">[56]</a> Pepys gives the following +description of the rejoicings in the city on the evening of the +eleventh of February:—“In Cheapside there were a +great many bonfires, and Bow bells and all the bells in all the +churches as we went home were a-ringing. Hence we went +homewards, it being about ten at night. But the common joy +that was everywhere to be seen! The number of bonfires! +there being fourteen between St Dunstan’s and Temple Bar, +and at Strand Bridge I could at one time tell thirty-one +fires. In King-street seven or eight; and all along +burning, and roasting, and drinking for Rumps, there being rumps +tied upon sticks and carried up and down. The butchers at +the May Pole in the Strand rang a peal with their knives when +they were going to sacrifice their rump. On Ludgate Hill +there was one turning of a spit that had a rump tied upon it, and +another basting of it. Indeed it was past imagination, both +the greatness and the suddenness of it. At one end of the +street you would think there was a whole lane of fire, and so hot +that we were fain to keep on the further side.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote57"></a><a href="#citation57" +class="footnote">[57]</a> In a satirical tract, entitled +“Free Parliament Quæries,” 4to, April 10, 1660, +it is inquired “Whether Sir Arthur did not act the Raging +Turk in Westminster Hall, when he saw the admission of the +secluded members?” Pepys gives the following account +of the reception of Monck’s letter from the city on the +11th of February:—“So I went up to the lobby, where I +saw the Speaker reading of the letter; and after it was read Sir +A. Haselrigge came out very angry, and Billing, standing by the +door, took him by the arm and cried, ‘Thou man, will thy +beast carry thee no longer? thou must fall!’”</p> +<p><a name="footnote58"></a><a href="#citation58" +class="footnote">[58]</a> Haselrigge was accused of having +been a dupe to Monck’s cunning intrigues.</p> +<p><a name="footnote59"></a><a href="#citation59" +class="footnote">[59]</a> The celebrated Praise-God +Barebone, at the head of a body of fanatics, had (February 9th) +presented a strong petition to the House in support of the Good +old Cause, which gave great offence to the Presbyterian party and +the citizens, although it was received with thanks. +According to Pepys, one of Monck’s complaints against the +Parliament was, “That the late petition of the fanatique +people presented by Barebone, for the imposing of an oath upon +all sorts of people, was received by the House with +thanks.” The citizens did not omit to show their +hostility against the presenter of the petition. On the +12th, Pepys says, “Charles Glascocke . . . told me the boys +had last night broke Barebone’s windows.” And +again, on the 22nd, “I observed this day how abominably +Barebone’s windows are broke again last night.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote60"></a><a href="#citation60" +class="footnote">[60]</a> Miles Corbet, as well as +Tichbourn, had sat upon the King in judgment. In a +satirical tract, published about the same time as the present +ballad, Tichbourn is made to say, “They say I am as +notorious as Miles Corbet the Jew.” In another, +entitled “The Private Debates, etc., of the Rump,” +4to, April 2, 1660, we read, “Call in the Jews, cryes +Corbet, there is a certain sympathy (quoth he), methinks, between +them and me. Those wandering pedlers and I were doubtless +made of the same mould; they have all such blote-herring faces as +myself, and the devil himself is in ’um for +cruelty.” He was one of those who fled on the +Restoration, but he was afterwards taken treacherously in +Holland, and, being brought to London, was executed as a +regicide. In another satirical tract, entitled “A +Continuation of the Acts and Monuments of our late +Parliament” (Dec. 1659), it is stated that, “July 1, +This very day the House made two serjeants-at-law, William Steele +and Miles Corbet, and that was work enough for one +day.” And, in a fourth, “Resolved, That Miles +Corbet and Robert Goodwin be freed from the trouble of the Chief +Register Office in Chancery.” <i>Mercurius +Honestus</i>, No. 1. (March 21, 1659–60.)</p> +<p><a name="footnote61"></a><a href="#citation61" +class="footnote">[61]</a> William Lord Monson, Viscount +Castlemaine, was member for Ryegate in the Long Parliament. +He was degraded from his honour at the Restoration, and was +condemned to be drawn on a sledge with a rope round his neck from +the Tower to Tyburn, and back again, and to be imprisoned there +for life. It appears, by the satirical tracts of the day, +that he was chiefly famous for being beaten by his wife. In +one, entitled “Your Servant, Gentlemen,” 4to, 1659, +it is asked, “Whether that member who lives nearest the +church ought not to ride Skimmington next time my Lady Mounson +cudgels her husband?” And in another (“The Rump +Despairing,” 4to, London, March 26, 1660) we find the +following passage:—“To my Lord Monson. A +sceptre is one thing, and a ladle is another, and though his wife +can tell how to use one, yet he is not fit to hold the +other.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote62"></a><a href="#citation62" +class="footnote">[62]</a> Pudding John, or Jack Pudding, +was a proverbial expression of the times for a Merry +Andrew. In an old English-German Dictionary it is explained +thus:—“<i>Jack-Pudding</i>, un buffon de theatre, +deliciæ populi, ein Hanswurst, Pickelhering.” +The term was applied as a soubriquet to any man who played the +fool to serve another person’s ends. “And first +Sir Thomas Wrothe (<i>Jack Pudding</i> to Prideaux the +post-master) had his cue to go high, and feele the pulse of the +hous.” History of Independency, p. 69 (4to, +1648).</p> +<p><a name="footnote63"></a><a href="#citation63" +class="footnote">[63]</a> An allusion to James +Harrington’s “Oceana.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote64"></a><a href="#citation64" +class="footnote">[64]</a> James Harrington, a remarkable +political writer of this time, had founded a club called the +Rota, in 1659, for the debating of political questions. +This club met at Miles’s Coffee-house, in Old Palace Yard, +and lasted a few mouths. At the beginning of the present +year was published the result of their deliberations, under the +title of “The Rota: or, a Model of a Free State, or Equall +Commonwealth; once proposed and debated in brief, and to be again +more at large proposed to, and debated by, a free and open +Society of ingenious Gentlemen.” 4to, London, 1660 +(Jan. 9).</p> +<p><a name="footnote65"></a><a href="#citation65" +class="footnote">[65]</a> William Prynne, the lawyer, who +had been so active a member of the Long Parliament when the +Presbyterians were in power, was one of the secluded +members. He returned to the House on the 21st of January, +this year. Pepys says, “Mr Prin came with an old +basket-hilt sword on, and had a great many shouts upon his going +into the hall.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote66"></a><a href="#citation66" +class="footnote">[66]</a> John Wilde was one of the members +for Worcestershire in the Long Parliament. In +Cromwell’s last Parliament he represented Droitwich, and +was made by the Protector “Lord Chief Baron of the publick +Exchequer.” In a satirical pamphlet, contemporary +with the present ballad, he is spoken of as “Sarjeant +Wilde, best known by the name of the Wilde Serjeant.” +Another old song describes his personal appearance:</p> +<blockquote><p>“But, Baron Wild, come out here,<br /> +Show your ferret face and snout here,<br /> +For you, being both a fool and a knave,<br /> +Are a monster in the rout here.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right">Loyal songs II. 55.</p> +<p><a name="footnote67"></a><a href="#citation67" +class="footnote">[67]</a> See footnote <a +name="citation60"></a><a href="#footnote60" +class="citation">[60]</a>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote68"></a><a href="#citation68" +class="footnote">[68]</a> Alderman Atkins.</p> +<p><a name="footnote69"></a><a href="#citation69" +class="footnote">[69]</a> Ludlow was well known as a +staunch Republican. The incident alluded to was a subject +of much merriment, and exercised the pen of some of the choicest +poets of the latter half of the seventeenth century.—T. +W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote70"></a><a href="#citation70" +class="footnote">[70]</a> Lambert, with his army, was in +the North, and amid the contradictory intelligence which daily +came in, we find some people who, according to Pepys, spread +reports that Lambert was gaining strength.—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote71"></a><a href="#citation71" +class="footnote">[71]</a> Marchamont Nedham.</p> +<p><a name="footnote72"></a><a href="#citation72" +class="footnote">[72]</a> Lambert and “his +bears” are frequently mentioned in the satirical writings +of this period. Cromwell is said to have sworn “by +the living God,” when he dissolved the Long +Parliament.—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote73"></a><a href="#citation73" +class="footnote">[73]</a> Speaker of the Long +Parliament.</p> +<p><a name="footnote74"></a><a href="#citation74" +class="footnote">[74]</a> Harry Marten, member for +Berkshire, a man of equivocal private character. In the +heat of the civil wars he had been committed to the Tower for a +short time by the Parliament, for speaking too openly against the +person of the King. When he attempted to speak against the +violent dissolution of the Long Parliament by Cromwell, the +latter reproached him with the licentiousness of his +life.—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote75"></a><a href="#citation75" +class="footnote">[75]</a> William Lord Monson, Viscount +Castlemaine, was member for Ryegate. He was degraded from +his honours at the Restoration, and was condemned to be drawn on +a sledge with a rope round his neck from the Tower to Tyburn, and +back again, and to be imprisoned there for life. It +appears, by the satirical tracts of the day, that he was chiefly +famous for being beaten by his wife.—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote76"></a><a href="#citation76" +class="footnote">[76]</a> Sir Arthur Haselrigge, member for +Leicestershire.</p> +<p><a name="footnote77"></a><a href="#citation77" +class="footnote">[77]</a> Noise or disturbance.</p> +<p><a name="footnote78"></a><a href="#citation78" +class="footnote">[78]</a> Dr John Hewit, an episcopal +clergyman, executed for high treason in 1658, for having held an +active correspondence with the Royalists abroad, and having +zealously contributed to the insurrection headed by +Penruddock.</p> +<p><a name="footnote79"></a><a href="#citation79" +class="footnote">[79]</a> John Lowry, member for +Cambridge.</p> +<p><a name="footnote80"></a><a href="#citation80" +class="footnote">[80]</a> Sir Edmund Prideaux, Bart., +member for Lyme Regis. He was Cromwell’s +Attorney-General.</p> +<p><a name="footnote81"></a><a href="#citation81" +class="footnote">[81]</a> Oliver St John, member for +Totness, and Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas.</p> +<p><a name="footnote82"></a><a href="#citation82" +class="footnote">[82]</a> John Wilde, one of the members +for Worcestershire. In Cromwell’s last Parliament he +represented Droitwich, and was made by the Protector “Lord +Chief Baron of the Public Exchequer.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote83"></a><a href="#citation83" +class="footnote">[83]</a> Sir Henry Slingsby and Dr Hewet +were executed for treason against the government of Oliver +Cromwell in 1658. Colonel John Gerard was brought to the +block at the beginning of the Protectorate, in 1654, for being +engaged in a plot to assassinate Cromwell.</p> +<p><a name="footnote84"></a><a href="#citation84" +class="footnote">[84]</a> John Lord Lisle represented +Yarmouth in the Long Parliament. He sat for Kent in the +Parliament of 1653, and was afterwards a member of +Cromwell’s “other House,” and held the office +of Lord Commissioner of the Great Seal. He was president of +the High Courts of Justice which tried Gerard, Slingsby, and +Hewet.</p> +<p><a name="footnote85"></a><a href="#citation85" +class="footnote">[85]</a> Nathaniel Fiennes, member for +Banbury. In the Parliament of 1654 he represented +Oxfordshire. He was afterwards, as Nathaniel Lord Fiennes, +a member of Cromwell’s “other House.” +Fiennes was accused of cowardice in surrendering Bristol (of +which he was governor) to Prince Rupert, somewhat hastily, in +1643. His father, Lord Say and Sele, opposing Cromwell, was +obliged to retire to the Isle of Lundy.</p> +<p><a name="footnote86"></a><a href="#citation86" +class="footnote">[86]</a> John Lord Glynn, member of +Cromwell’s “other House,” was “Chief +Justice assigned to hold pleas in the Upper Bench.” +He was engaged in the prosecution of the Earl of Strafford. +He was one of the eleven members impeached by the army in +1647. In the Long Parliament, as well as in +Cromwell’s Parliaments, he was member for +Carnarvon.—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote87"></a><a href="#citation87" +class="footnote">[87]</a> Henry Nevil, member for +Abingdon. In Cromwell’s last Parliament he +represented Reading. In a satirical tract, he is spoken of +as “religious Harry Nevill;” and we find in +Burton’s Diary, that some months before the date of the +present song (on the 16th Feb. 1658–9) there was “a +great debate” on a charge of atheism and blasphemy which +had been brought against him.—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote88"></a><a href="#citation88" +class="footnote">[88]</a> In the satirical tract entitled +“England’s Confusion,” this member is described +as “hastily rich Cornelius Holland.” He appears +to have risen from a low station, and is characterized in the +songs of the day as having been a link-bearer.—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote89"></a><a href="#citation89" +class="footnote">[89]</a> Major Salwey was an officer in +the Parliamentary array. On the 17th January, 1660, he +incurred the displeasure of the House, and was sequestered from +his seat and sent to the Tower. He is described as “a +smart, prating apprentice, newly set for himself.” He +appears to have been originally a grocer and tobacconist; a +ballad of the time speaks of him as,</p> +<p class="poetry">“Salloway with tobacco<br /> +Inspired, turned State quack-o;<br /> +And got more by his feigned zeal<br /> +Then by his, <i>What d’ye lack-o</i>?”</p> +<p>In another he is introduced thus,</p> +<p class="poetry">“The tobacco-man Salway, with a heart +tall of gall<br /> +Puffs down bells, steeples, priests, churches and all,<br /> +As old superstitions relicks of Baal.”</p> +<p>A third ballad, alluding to his attitude in the House, couples +together</p> +<p class="poetry">“Mr William Lilly’s astrological +lyes,<br /> +And the meditations of Salloway biting his +thumbs.”—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote90"></a><a href="#citation90" +class="footnote">[90]</a> Roger Hill was member for +Bridport, in Dorsetshire. He bought a grant of the Bishop +of Winchester’s manor of Taunton Dean, valued at 1200 +pounds a year. A ballad written towards the end of 1659 +says of him,</p> +<p class="poetry"> “Baron Hill was but a +valley,<br /> + And born scarce to an alley;<br /> +But now is lord of Taunton Dean,<br /> + And thousands he can rally.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote91"></a><a href="#citation91" +class="footnote">[91]</a> With the revival of the Long +Parliament, the old Republican feelings arose again under the +denomination of the “Good old Cause.” +Innumerable pamphlets were published for and against “The +Cause.” Even Prynne, the fierce old Presbyterian, who +was now turning against the patriots, lifted up his pen against +it, and published “The Republicans and others spurious Good +old Cause briefly and truly Anatomized,” 4to, May 13, +1659.</p> +<p><a name="footnote92"></a><a href="#citation92" +class="footnote">[92]</a> Robert Cecil, Esq., was one of +the members of the Old Long Parliament who were now brought +together to form the Rump. He represented Old Sarum, +Wilts.</p> +<p><a name="footnote93"></a><a href="#citation93" +class="footnote">[93]</a> Luke Robinson, of Pickering Lyth, +in Yorkshire, was member for Scarborough. An old ballad +says of him,</p> +<p class="poetry"> “Luke Robinson, that +clownado,<br /> + Though his heart be a granado,<br /> +Yet a high shoe with his hand in his poke<br /> + Is his most perfect shadow.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote94"></a><a href="#citation94" +class="footnote">[94]</a> Sir Harry Vane.</p> +<p><a name="footnote95"></a><a href="#citation95" +class="footnote">[95]</a> Thomas Scott was member for +Aylesbury, in Buckinghamshire, in the Long Parliament.</p> +<p><a name="footnote96"></a><a href="#citation96" +class="footnote">[96]</a> Hugh Peters, the celebrated +fanatic. In the margin of the original, opposite to the +words “the Devil’s fees,” is the following +note—“His numps and his kidneys.”—T. +W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote97"></a><a href="#citation97" +class="footnote">[97]</a> To save his tithe +pig:—probably the origin of the well known slang phrase of +the present day.</p> +<p><a name="footnote98"></a><a href="#citation98" +class="footnote">[98]</a> Coloured, or dyed.</p> +<p><a name="footnote99"></a><a href="#citation99" +class="footnote">[99]</a> Faustus.</p> +<p><a name="footnote100"></a><a href="#citation100" +class="footnote">[100]</a> An allusion to a popular old +story and song. A copy of the words and tune of “The +Fryar and the Nun” is preserved in the valuable collection +of ballads in the possession of Mr Thorpe of +Piccadilly.—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote101"></a><a href="#citation101" +class="footnote">[101]</a> “October 13th. I +went out to Charing Cross to see Major-General Harrison hanged, +drawn, and quartered, which was done there, he looking as +cheerful as any man could do in that +condition.”—Pepys. Thomas Harrison was the son +of a butcher at Newcastle-under-Line; he conveyed Charles I. from +Windsor to Whitehall to his trial, and afterwards sat as one of +the judges.</p> +<p><a name="footnote102"></a><a href="#citation102" +class="footnote">[102]</a> “October 15th. This +morning Mr Carew was hanged and quartered at Charing Cross; but +his quarters, by a great favour, are not to be hanged +up.”—Pepys. Colonel John Carew, like Harrison, +was one of the Fifth-monarchy men, a violent and visionary but +honest enthusiast.</p> +<p><a name="footnote103"></a><a href="#citation103" +class="footnote">[103]</a> Hugh Peters, for his zeal in +encouraging the Commonwealth soldiery, was particularly hated by +the Royalists. John Coke, the able lawyer, conducted the +prosecution of the King.</p> +<p><a name="footnote104"></a><a href="#citation104" +class="footnote">[104]</a> Gregory Clement, John Jones, +Thomas Scott, and Adrian Scrope, were charged with sitting in the +High Court of Justice which tried the King. Scott was +further charged with having, during the sitting of the Rump +Parliament, expressed his approbation of the sentence against the +King. Colonel Scrope, although he had been admitted to +pardon, was selected as one of the objects of vengeance, and was +condemned chiefly on a reported conversation, in which, when one +person had strongly blamed what he called the +“murder” of the King, Scrope observed, “Some +are of one opinion, and some of another.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote105"></a><a href="#citation105" +class="footnote">[105]</a> “October 19th. This +morning Hacker and Axtell were hanged and quartered, as the rest +are.”—Pepys. Colonel Francis Hacker commanded +the guards at the King’s execution. Axtell was +captain of the guard of the High Court of Justice at which the +King was tried.</p> +<p><a name="footnote106"></a><a href="#citation106" +class="footnote">[106]</a> Richard Brown, one of +Cromwell’s Major-generals, Governor of Abingdon, and member +for London in the Long Parliament. He had been imprisoned +by the Rump.</p> +<p><a name="footnote107"></a><a href="#citation107" +class="footnote">[107]</a> The Earl of Norwich was George +Lord Goring, who, with his son, acted a prominent part in the +Civil Wars. He was created Earl of Norwich in 1644.</p> +<p><a name="footnote108"></a><a href="#citation108" +class="footnote">[108]</a> John Mordaunt, son of the Earl +of Peterborough, celebrated for his exertions to raise +insurrections for the King during the Protectorate, was one of +the bearers of the letters of the King to Monck. He was +created Baron Mordaunt, July 10, 1659. Charles Lord Gerard, +afterwards created Earl of Macclesfield, was a very distinguished +Royalist officer. Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Cleveland, who +had suffered much for his loyalty to Charles I., headed a body of +three hundred noblemen and gentlemen in the triumphal procession +of Charles II. into London.</p> +<p><a name="footnote109"></a><a href="#citation109" +class="footnote">[109]</a> Charles Stuart, a gallant +Royalist officer, who had been created Earl of Litchfield by +Charles I. in 1645, and who immediately after the Restoration +succeeded his cousin Esme Stuart as Duke of Richmond. +Charles Stanley, Earl of Derby, was son of the Earl of Derby who +was beheaded after the battle of Worcester, and of the Countess +who so gallantly defended Latham House in 1644.</p> +<p><a name="footnote110"></a><a href="#citation110" +class="footnote">[110]</a> The Nursery Rhyme, “The +Man in the Moon drinks claret.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote111"></a><a href="#citation111" +class="footnote">[111]</a> Philip Nye.</p> +<p><a name="footnote112"></a><a href="#citation112" +class="footnote">[112]</a> William Kiffin was a celebrated +preacher of this time, and had been an officer in the +Parliamentary army. A little before the publication of the +present ballad a tract had appeared, with the title, “The +Life and Approaching Death of William Kiffin. Extracted out +of the Visitation Book by a Church Member.” 4to, +London, March 13, 1659–60. He is here said to have +been originally ’prentice to a glover, and to have been in +good credit with Cromwell, who made him a +lieutenant-colonel. He appears to have been busy among the +sectaries at the period of the Restoration. He is thus +mentioned in a satirical pamphlet of that time, entitled +“Select City Quæries:”—“Whether the +Anabaptists’ late manifesto can be said to be forged, +false, and scandalous (as Politicus terms it), it being well +known to be writ by one of Kiffin’s disciples; and whether +the author thereof or Politicus may be accounted the greater +incendiary?”—T. W.</p> +<p><a name="footnote113"></a><a href="#citation113" +class="footnote">[113]</a> Fox and Naylor were the founders +of the sect of Quakers. Naylor, in particular, was +celebrated as an enthusiast. Jacob Boehmen, or Behmen, was +a celebrated German visionary and enthusiast, who lived at the +end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth centuries, +and the founder of a sect.</p> +<p><a name="footnote114"></a><a href="#citation114" +class="footnote">[114]</a> There was a story that Charles +II. was really married to Lucy Walters, the mother of the Duke of +Monmouth, and that the contract of marriage was in existence in a +“black box,” in the custody of the Bishop of Durham, +suggested apparently by the endeavours of that Bishop to change +the succession to the crown in favour of the Duke of Monmouth, to +the exclusion of James II.</p> +<p><a name="footnote115"></a><a href="#citation115" +class="footnote">[115]</a> Titus Oates, the inventor of the +Popish plot.</p> +<p><a name="footnote116"></a><a href="#citation116" +class="footnote">[116]</a> Patience Ward, the alderman.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CAVALIER SONGS AND BALLADS OF +ENGLAND***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 1030-h.htm or 1030-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/3/1030 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Scanned and proofed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + + +The Cavalier Songs and Ballads of England from 1642 to 1684 +Edited by Charles Mackay + + + + + +The Cavalier Songs and Ballads of England from 1642 to 1684 + + + + +Contents: + +When The King Enjoys His Own Again +When The King Comes Home In Peace Again +I Love My King And Country Well +The Commoners +The Royalist +The New Courtier +Upon The Cavaliers Departing Out Of London +A Mad World, My Masters +The Man O' The Moon +The Tub-Preacher +The New Litany +The Old Protestant's Litany +Vive Le Roy +The Cavalier +A Caveat To The Roundheads +Hey, Then, Up Go We +The Clean Contrary Way, Or, Colonel Venne's Encouragement To His +Soldiers +The Cameronian Cat +The Royal Feast +Upon His Majesty's Coming To Holmby +I Thank You Twice +The Cities Loyaltie To The King +The Lawyers' Lamentation For The Loss Of Charing-Cross +The Downfal Of Charing-Cross +The Long Parliament +The Puritan +The Roundhead +Prattle Your Pleasure Under The Rose +The Dominion Of The Sword +The State's New Coin +The Anarchie, Or The Blest Reformation Since 1640 +A Coffin For King Charles, A Crown For Cromwell, And A Pit For The +People +A Short Litany For The Year 1649 +The Sale Of Rebellion's House-Hold Stuff +The Cavalier's Farewell To His Mistress, Being Called To The Warrs +The Last News From France +Song To The Figure Two +The Reformation +Upon The General Pardon Passed By The Rump +An Old Song On Oliver's Court +The Parliament Routed, Or Here's A House To Be Let +A Christmas Song When The Rump Was First Dissolved +A Free Parliament Litany +The Mock Song +As Close As A Goose +The Prisoners +The Protecting Brewer +The Arraignment Of The Devil For Stealing Away President Bradshaw +A New Ballad To An Old Tune, - Tom Of Bedlam +Saint George And The Dragon, Anglice Mercurius Poeticus +The Second Part Of St George For England +A New-Year's Gift For The Rump +A Proper New Ballad On The Old Parliament; Or, The Second Part Of +Knave Out Of Doors +The Tale Of The Cobbler And The Vicar Of Bray +The Geneva Ballad +The Devil's Progress On Earth, Or Huggle Duggle +A Bottle Definition Of That Fallen Angel, Called A Whig +The Desponding Whig +Phanatick Zeal, Or A Looking-glass For The Whigs +A New Game At Cards: Or, Win At First And Lose At Last +The Cavaleers Litany +The Cavalier's Complaint +An Echo To The Cavalier's Complaint +A Relation +The Glory Of These Nations +The Noble Progress +On The King's Return +The Brave Barbary +A Catch +The Turn-Coat +The Claret Drinker's Song +The Loyal Subjects' Hearty Wishes To King Charles II. +King Charles The Second's Restoration, 29th May. +The Jubilee, Or The Coronation Day +The King Enjoys His Own Again +A Country Song, Intituled The Restoration +Here's A Health Unto His Majesty +The Whigs Drowned In An Honest Tory Health +The Cavalier +The Lamentation Of A Bad Market, Or The Disbanded Souldier +The Courtier's Health; Or, The Merry Boys Of The Times +The Loyal Tories' Delight; Or A Pill For Fanaticks +The Royal Admiral +The Unfortunate Whigs +The Downfall Of The Good Old Cause +Old Jemmy +The Cloak's Knavery +The Time-Server, Or A Medley +The Soldier's Delight +The Loyal Soldier +The Polititian +A New Droll +The Royalist +The Royalist's Resolve +Loyalty Turned Up Trump, Or The Danger Over +The Loyalist's Encouragement +The Trouper +On The Times, Or The Good Subject's Wish +The Jovialists' Coronation +The Loyal Prisoner +Canary's Coronation +The Mournful Subjects +"Memento Mori" +Accession Of James II +On The Most High And Mighty Monarch King James +In A Summer's Day + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + + +The Cavalier Ballads of England, like the Jacobite Ballads of +England and Scotland at a later period, are mines of wealth for the +student of the history and social manners of our ancestors. The +rude but often beautiful political lyrics of the early days of the +Stuarts were far more interesting and important to the people who +heard or repeated them, than any similar compositions can be in our +time. When the printing press was the mere vehicle of polemics for +the educated minority, and when the daily journal was neither a +luxury of the poor, a necessity of the rich, nor an appreciable +power in the formation and guidance of public opinion, the song and +the ballad appealed to the passion, if not to the intellect of the +masses, and instructed them in all the leading events of the time. +In our day the people need no information of the kind, for they +procure it from the more readily available and more copious if not +more reliable, source of the daily and weekly press. The song and +ballad have ceased to deal with public affairs. No new ones of the +kind are made except as miserable parodies and burlesques that may +amuse sober costermongers and half-drunken men about town, who +frequent music saloons at midnight, but which are offensive to +every one else. Such genuine old ballads as remain in the popular +memory are either fast dying out, or relate exclusively to the +never-to-be-superseded topics of love, war, and wine. The people +of our day have little heart or appreciation for song, except in +Scotland and Ireland. England and America are too prosaic and too +busy, and the masses, notwithstanding all their supposed advantages +in education, are much too vulgar to delight in either song or +ballad that rises to the dignity of poetry. They appreciate the +buffooneries of the "Negro Minstrelsy," and the inanities and the +vapidities of sentimental love songs, but the elegance of such +writers as Thomas Moore, and the force of such vigorous thinkers +and tender lyrists as Robert Burns, are above their sphere, and are +left to scholars in their closets and ladies in their drawing- +rooms. The case was different among our ancestors in the memorable +period of the struggle for liberty that commenced in the reign of +Charles I. The Puritans had the pulpit on their side, and found it +a powerful instrument. The Cavaliers had the song writers on +theirs, and found them equally effective. And the song and ballad +writers of that day were not always illiterate versifiers. Some of +them were the choicest wits and most accomplished gentlemen of the +nation. As they could not reach the ears of their countrymen by +the printed book, the pamphlet, or the newspaper, nor mount the +pulpit and dispute with Puritanism on its own ground and in its own +precincts, they found the song, the ballad, and the epigram more +available among a musical and song-loving people such as the +English then were, and trusted to these to keep up the spirit of +loyalty in the evil days of the royal cause, to teach courage in +adversity, and cheerfulness in all circumstances, and to ridicule +the hypocrites whom they could not shame, and the tyrants whom they +could not overthrow. Though many thousands of these have been +preserved in the King's Pamphlets in the British Museum, and in +other collections which have been freely ransacked for the +materials of the following pages, as many thousands more have +undoubtedly perished. Originally printed as broadsides, and sold +for a halfpenny at country fairs, it used to be the fashion of the +peasantry to paste them up in cupboards, or on the backs of doors, +and farmers' wives, as well as servant girls and farm labourers, +who were able to read, would often paste them on the lids of their +trunks, as the best means of preserving them. This is one reason +why so many of them have been lost without recovery. To Sir W. C. +Trevelyan literature is indebted for the restoration of a few of +these waifs and strays, which he found pasted in an old trunk of +the days of Cromwell, and which he carefully detached and presented +to the British Museum. But a sufficient number of these flying +leaves of satire, sentiment, and loyalty have reached our time, to +throw a curious and instructive light upon the feelings of the men +who resisted the progress of the English Revolution; and who made +loyalty to the person of the monarch, even when the monarch was +wrong, the first of the civic virtues. In the superabundance of +the materials at command, as will be seen from the appended list of +books and MSS. which have been consulted and drawn upon to form +this collection, the difficulty was to keep within bounds, and to +select only such specimens as merited a place in a volume +necessarily limited, by their celebrity, their wit, their beauty, +their historical interest, or the light they might happen to throw +on the obscure biography of the most remarkable actors in the +scenes which they describe. It would be too much to claim for +these ballads the exalted title of poetry. They are not poetical +in the highest sense of the word, and possibly would not have been +so effective for the purpose which they were intended to serve, if +their writers had been more fanciful and imaginative, or less +intent upon what they had to say than upon the manner of saying it. +But if not extremely poetical, they are extremely national, and +racy of the soil; and some of them are certain to live as long as +the language which produced them. For the convenience of reference +and consultation they have been arranged chronologically; beginning +with the discontents that inaugurated the reign of Charles I., and +following regularly to the final, though short-lived, triumph of +the Cavalier cause, in the accession of James II. After his ill- +omened advent to the throne, the Cavalier became the Jacobite. In +this collection no Jacobite songs, properly so called, are +included, it being the intention of the publishers to issue a +companion volume, of the Jacobite Ballads of England, from the +accession of James II. to the battle of Culloden, should the public +receive the present volume with sufficient favour to justify the +venture. + +The Editor cannot, in justice to previous fellow-labourers, omit to +record his obligation to the interesting volume, with its learned +annotations, contributed by Mr Thomas Wright to the Percy Society; +or to another and equally valuable collection, edited by Mr J. O. +Halliwell. + +December, 1862. + + + +Ballad: When The King Enjoys His Own Again + + + +This is perhaps the most popular of all the Cavalier songs - a +favour which it partly owes to the excellent melody with which it +is associated. The song, says Mr Chappell, is ascertained to be by +Martin Parker, by the following extract from the GOSSIPS' FEAST, or +Moral Tales, 1647. "By my faith, Martin Parker never got a fairer +treat: no, not when he indited that sweet ballad, When the King +enjoys his own again." In the poet's Blind Man's Bough (or Buff), +1641, Martin Parker says, + + +"Whatever yet was published by me +Was known as Martin Parker, or M. P.;" + + +but this song was printed without his name or initials, at a time +when it would have been dangerous to give either his own name or +that of his publisher. Ritson calls it the most famous song of any +time or country. Invented to support the declining interest of +Charles I., it served afterwards with more success to keep up the +spirits of the Cavaliers, and promote the restoration of his son; +an event which it was employed to celebrate all over the kingdom. +At the Revolution of 1688, it of course became an adherent of the +exiled King, whose cause it never deserted. It did equal service +in 1715 and 1745. The tune appears to have been originally known +as MARRY ME, MARRY ME, QUOTH THE BONNIE LASS. Booker, Pond, +Hammond, Rivers, Swallow, Dade, and "The Man in the Moon," were all +astrologers and Almanac makers in the early days of the civil war. +"The Man in the Moon" appears to have been a loyalist in his +predictions. Hammond's Almanac is called "bloody" because the +compiler always took care to note the anniversary of the death, +execution, or downfall of a Royalist. + + +What BOOKER doth prognosticate +Concerning kings' or kingdoms' fate? +I think myself to be as wise +As he that gazeth on the skies; +My skill goes beyond the depth of a POND, +Or RIVERS in the greatest rain, +Thereby I can tell all things will be well +When the King enjoys his own again. + +There's neither SWALLOW, DOVE, nor DADE, +Can soar more high, or deeper wade, +Nor show a reason from the stars +What causeth peace or civil wars; +The Man in the Moon may wear out his shoon +By running after Charles his wain: +But all's to no end, for the times will not mend +Till the King enjoys his own again. + +Though for a time we see Whitehall +With cobwebs hanging on the wall +Instead of silk and silver brave, +Which formerly it used to have, +With rich perfume in every room, - +Delightful to that princely train, +Which again you shall see, when the time it shall be, +That the King enjoys his own again. + +Full forty years the royal crown +Hath been his father's and his own; +And is there any one but he +That in the same should sharer be? +For who better may the sceptre sway +Than he that hath such right to reign? +Then let's hope for a peace, for the wars will not cease +Till the King enjoys his own again. + +[Did WALKER no predictions lack +In Hammond's bloody almanack? +Foretelling things that would ensue, +That all proves right, if lies be true; +But why should not he the pillory foresee, +Wherein poor Toby once was ta'en? +And also foreknow to the gallows he must go +When the King enjoys his own again?] (1) + +Till then upon Ararat's hill +My hope shall cast her anchor still, +Until I see some peaceful dove +Bring home the branch I dearly love; +Then will I wait till the waters abate +Which now disturb my troubled brain, +Else never rejoice till I hear the voice +That the King enjoys his own again. + + + +Ballad: When The King Comes Home In Peace Again + + + +From a broadside in the Roxburghe Collection of Ballads. It +appears to have been written shortly after Martin Parker's original +ballad obtained popularity among the Royalists, and to be by +another hand. It bears neither date nor printer's name; and has +"God save the King, Amen," in large letters at the end. + + +Oxford and Cambridge shall agree, +With honour crown'd, and dignity; +For learned men shall then take place, +And bad be silenced with disgrace: +They'll know it to be but a casualty +That hath so long disturb'd their brain; +For I can surely tell that all things will go well +When the King comes home in peace again. + +Church government shall settled be, +And then I hope we shall agree +Without their help, whose high-brain'd zeal +Hath long disturb'd the common weal; +Greed out of date, and cobblers that do prate +Of wars that still disturb their brain; +The which you will see, when the time it shall be +That the King comes home in peace again. + +Though many now are much in debt, +And many shops are to be let, +A golden time is drawing near, +Men shops shall take to hold their ware; +And then all our trade shall flourishing be made, +To which ere long we shall attain; +For still I can tell all things will be well +When the King comes home in peace again. + +Maidens shall enjoy their mates, +And honest men their lost estates; +Women shall have what they do lack, +Their husbands, who are coming back. +When the wars have an end, then I and my friend +All subjects' freedom shall obtain; +By which I can tell all things will be well +When we enjoy sweet peace again. + +Though people now walk in great fear +Along the country everywhere, +Thieves shall then tremble at the law, +And justice shall keep them in awe: +The Frenchies shall flee with their treacherie, +And the foes of the King ashamed remain: +The which you shall see when the time it shall be +That the King comes home in peace again. + +The Parliament must willing be +That all the world may plainly see +How they do labour still for peace, +That now these bloody wars may cease; +For they will gladly spend their lives to defend +The King in all his right to reign: +So then I can tell all things will be well +When we enjoy sweet peace again. + +When all these things to pass shall come +Then farewell Musket, Pick, and Drum, +The Lamb shall with the Lion feed, +Which were a happy time indeed. +O let us pray we may all see the day +That peace may govern in his name, +For then I can tell all things will be well +When the King comes home in peace again. + + + +Ballad: I Love My King And Country Well + + + +From Songs and other Poems by Alex. Brome, Gent. Published London +1664; written 1645. + + +I love my King and country well, +Religion and the laws; +Which I'm mad at the heart that e'er we did sell +To buy the good old cause. +These unnatural wars +And brotherly jars +Are no delight or joy to me; +But it is my desire +That the wars should expire, +And the King and his realms agree. + +I never yet did take up arms, +And yet I dare to dye; +But I'll not be seduced by phanatical charms +Till I know a reason why. +Why the King and the state +Should fall to debate +I ne'er could yet a reason see, +But I find many one +Why the wars should be done, +And the King and his realms agree. + +I love the King and the Parliament, +But I love them both together: +And when they by division asunder are rent, +I know 'tis good for neither. +Whichsoe'er of those +Be victorious, +I'm sure for us no good 'twill be, +For our plagues will increase +Unless we have peace, +And the King and his realms agree. + +The King without them can't long stand, +Nor they without the King; +'Tis they must advise, and 'tis he must command, +For their power from his must spring. +'Tis a comfortless sway +When none will obey; +If the King han't his right, which way shall we? +They may vote and make laws, +But no good they will cause +Till the King and his realm agree. + +A pure religion I would have, +Not mixt with human wit; +And I cannot endure that each ignorant knave +Should dare to meddle with it. +The tricks of the law +I would fain withdraw, +That it may be alike to each degree: +And I fain would have such +As do meddle so much, +With the King and the church agree. + +We have pray'd and pray'd that the wars might cease, +And we be free men made; +I would fight, if my fighting would bring any peace, +But war is become a trade. +Our servants did ride +With swords by their side, +And made their masters footmen be; +But we'll be no more slaves +To the beggars and knaves +Now the King and the realms do agree. + + + +Ballad: The Commoners + + + +Written in 1645 to the Club-men, by Alex. Brome. + + +Come your ways, +Bonny boys +Of the town, +For now is your time or never: +Shall your fears +Or your cares +Cast you down? +Hang your wealth +And your health, +Get renown. +We are all undone for ever, +Now the King and the crown +Are tumbling down, +And the realm doth groan with disasters; +And the scum of the land +Are the men that command, +And our slaves are become our masters. + +Now our lives, +Children, wives, +And estate, +Are a prey to the lust and plunder, +To the rage +Of our age; +And the fate +Of our land +Is at hand; +'Tis too late +To tread these usurpers under. +First down goes the crown, +Then follows the gown, +Thus levell'd are we by the Roundhead; +While Church and State must +Feed their pride and their lust, +And the kingdom and king be confounded. + +Shall we still +Suffer ill +And be dumb, +And let every varlet undo us? +Shall we doubt +Of each lout +That doth come, +With a voice +Like the noise +Of a drum, +And a sword or a buff-coat, to us? +Shall we lose our estates +By plunder and rates, +To bedeck those proud upstarts that swagger? +Rather fight for your meat +Which those locusts do eat, +Now every man's a beggar. + + + +Ballad: The Royalist + + + +By Alex. Brome. Written 1646. + + +Come pass about the bowl to me, +A health to our distressed King; +Though we're in hold let cups go free, +Birds in a cage may freely sing. +The ground does tipple healths afar +When storms do fall, and shall not we? +A sorrow dares not show its face +When we are ships, and sack's the sea. + +Pox on this grief, hang wealth, let's sing; +Shall's kill ourselves for fear of death? +We'll live by th' air which songs do bring, +Our sighing does but waste our breath. +Then let us not be discontent, +Nor drink a glass the less of wine; +In vain they'll think their plagues are spent +When once they see we don't repine. + +We do not suffer here alone, +Though we are beggar'd, so's the King; +'Tis sin t' have wealth when he has none, +Tush! poverty's a royal thing! +When we are larded well with drink, +Our head shall turn as round as theirs, +Our feet shall rise, our bodies sink +Clean down the wind like Cavaliers. + +Fill this unnatural quart with sack, +Nature all vacuums doth decline; +Ourselves will be a zodiac, +And every mouth shall be a sign. +Methinks the travels of the glass +Are circular, like Plato's year; +Where everything is as it was +Let's tipple round: and so 'tis here. + + + +Ballad: The New Courtier + + + +By Alex. Brome. 1648. + + +Since it must be so +Then so let it go, +Let the giddy-brain'd times turn round; +Since we have no king let the goblet be crown'd, +Our monarchy thus will recover: +While the pottles are weeping +We'll drench our sad souls +In big-bellied bowls; +Our sorrows in sack shall lie steeping, +And we'll drink till our eyes do run over; +And prove it by reason +That it can be no treason +To drink and to sing +A mournival of healths to our new-crown'd King. + +Let us all stand bare; - +In the presence we are, +Let our noses like bonfires shine; +Instead of the conduits, let the pottles run wine, +To perfect this new coronation; +And we that are loyal +In drink shall be peers, +While that face that wears +Pure claret, looks like the blood-royal, +And outstares the bones of the nation: +In sign of obedience, +Our oath of allegiance +Beer-glasses shall be, +And he that tipples ten is of the nobility. + +But if in this reign +The halberted train +Or the constable should rebel, +And should make their turbill'd militia to swell, +And against the King's party raise arms; +Then the drawers, like yeomen +Of the guards, with quart pots +Shall fuddle the sots, +While we make 'em both cuckolds and freemen; +And on their wives beat up alarums. +Thus as each health passes +We'll triple the glasses, +And hold it no sin +To be loyal and drink in defence of our King. + + + +Ballad: Upon The Cavaliers Departing Out Of London + + + +By Alex. Brome. + + +Now fare thee well, London, +Thou next must be undone, +'Cause thou hast undone us before; +This cause and this tyrant +Had never play'd this high rant +Were't not for thy ARGENT D'OR. + +Now we must desert thee, +With the lines that begirt thee, +And the red-coated saints domineer; +Who with liberty fool thee, +While a monster doth rule thee, +And thou feel'st what before thou didst fear. + +Now justice and freedom, +With the laws that did breed 'em, +Are sent to Jamaica for gold, +And those that upheld 'em +Have power but seldom, +For justice is barter'd and sold. + +Now the Christian religion +Must seek a new region, +And the old saints give way to the new; +And we that are loyal +Vail to those that destroy all, +When the Christian gives place to the Jew. + +But this is our glory, +In this wretched story +Calamities fall on the best; +And those that destroy us +Do better employ us, +To sing till they are supprest. + + + +Ballad: A Mad World, My Masters + + + +From the King's pamphlets, British Museum. + + +We have a King, and yet no King, +For he hath lost his power; +For 'gainst his will his subjects are +Imprison'd in the Tower. + +We had some laws (but now no laws) +By which he held his crown; +And we had estates and liberties, +But now they're voted down. + +We had religion, but of late +That's beaten down with clubs; +Whilst that profaneness authorized +Is belched forth in tubs. + +We were free subjects born, but now +We are by force made slaves, +By some whom we did count our friends, +But in the end proved knaves. + +And now to such a grievous height +Are our misfortunes grown, +That our estates are took away +By tricks before ne'er known. + +For there are agents sent abroad +Most humbly for to crave +Our alms; but if they are denied, +And of us nothing have, + +Then by a vote EX TEMPORE +We are to prison sent, +Mark'd with the name of enemy, +To King and Parliament: + +And during our imprisonment, +Their lawless bulls do plunder +A license to their soldiers, +Our houses for to plunder. + +And if their hounds do chance to smell +A man whose fortunes are +Of some account, whose purse is full, +Which now is somewhat rare; + +A MONSTER now, DELINQUENT term'd, +He is declared to be, +And that his lands, as well as goods, +Sequester'd ought to be. + +As if our prisons were too good, +He is to Yarmouth sent, +By virtue of a warrant from +The King and Parliament. + +Thus in our royal sovereign's name, +And eke his power infused, +And by the virtue of the same, +He and all his abused. + +For by this means his castles now +Are in the power of those +Who treach'rously, with might and main, +Do strive him to depose. + +Arise, therefore, brave British men, +Fight for your King and State, +Against those trait'rous men that strive +This realm to ruinate. + +'Tis Pym, 'tis Pym and his colleagues, +That did our woe engender; +Nought but their lives can end our woes, +And us in safety render. + + + +Ballad: The Man O' The Moon + + + +Hogg, in his second series of Jacobite Relics, states that he "got +this song among some old papers belonging to Mr Orr of Alloa," and +that he never met with it elsewhere. In his first series he +printed a Scottish song beginning, - + +"Then was a man came fron the moon +And landed in our town, sir, +And he has sworn a solemn oath +That all but knaves must down, sir." + +In Martin Parker's foregoing ballad, "When the King enjoys his own +again," there is also an allusion to the man in the moon:- + +"The Man in the Moon +May wear out his shoon +By running after Charles his wain;" + +as it would appear that the "Man in the Moon," was the title +assumed by an almanack-maker of the time of the Commonwealth, who, +like other astronomers and astrologers, predicted the King's +restoration. In this song the "Man o' the Moon" clearly signifies +King Charles. + + +The man o' the moon for ever! +The man o' the moon for ever! +We'll drink to him still +In a merry cup of ale, - +Here's the man o' the moon for ever! + +The man o' the moon, here's to him! +How few there be that know him! +But we'll drink to him still +In a merry cup of ale, - +The man o' the moon, here's to him! + +Brave man o' the moon, we hail thee, +The true heart ne'er shall fail thee; +For the day that's gone +And the day that's our own - +Brave man o' the moon, we hail thee. + +We have seen the bear bestride thee, +And the clouds of winter hide thee, +But the moon is changed +And here we are ranged, - +Brave man o' the moon, we bide thee. + +The man o' the moon for ever! +The man o' the moon for ever! +We'll drink to him still +In a merry cup of ale, - +Here's the man o' the moon for ever! + +We have grieved the land should shun thee, +And have never ceased to mourn thee, +But for all our grief +There was no relief, - +Now, man o' the moon, return thee. + +There's Orion with his golden belt, +And Mars, that burning mover, +But of all the lights +That rule the nights, +The man o' the moon for ever! + + + +Ballad: The Tub-Preacher + + + +By Samuel Butler (Author of Hudibras). To the tune of "The Old +Courtier of the Queen's." + + +With face and fashion to be known, +With eyes all white, and many a groan, +With neck awry and snivelling tone, +And handkerchief from nose new-blown, +And loving cant to sister Joan; +'Tis a new teacher about the town, +Oh! the town's new teacher! + +With cozening laugh, and hollow cheek, +To get new gatherings every week, +With paltry sense as man can speak, +With some small Hebrew, and no Greek, +With hums and haws when stuff's to seek; +'Tis a new teacher, etc. + +With hair cut shorter than the brow, +With little band, as you know how, +With cloak like Paul, no coat I trow, +With surplice none, nor girdle now, +With hands to thump, nor knees to bow; +'Tis a new teacher, etc. + +With shop-board breeding and intrusion, +By some outlandish institution, +With Calvin's method and conclusion, +To bring all things into confusion, +And far-stretched sighs for mere illusion; +'Tis a new teacher, etc. + +With threats of absolute damnation, +But certainty of some salvation +To his new sect, not every nation, +With election and reprobation, +And with some use of consolation; +'Tis a new teacher, etc. + +With troops expecting him at door +To hear a sermon and no more, +And women follow him good store, +And with great Bibles to turn o'er, +Whilst Tom writes notes, as bar-boys score, +'Tis a new teacher, etc. + +With double cap to put his head in, +That looks like a black pot tipp'd with tin; +While with antic gestures he doth gape and grin; +The sisters admire, and he wheedles them in, +Who to cheat their husbands think no sin; +'Tis a new teacher, etc. + +With great pretended spiritual motions, +And many fine whimsical notions, +With blind zeal and large devotions, +With broaching rebellion and raising commotions, +And poisoning the people with Geneva potions; +'Tis a new teacher, etc. + + + +Ballad: The New Litany + + + +From the King's pamphlets, British Museum. Satires in the form of +a litany were common from 1646 to 1746, and even later. + + +From an extempore prayer and a godly ditty, +From the churlish government of a city, +From the power of a country committee, +Libera nos, Domine. + +From the Turk, the Pope, and the Scottish nation, +From being govern'd by proclamation, +And from an old Protestant, quite out of fashion, +Libera, etc. + +From meddling with those that are out of our reaches, +From a fighting priest, and a soldier that preaches, +From an ignoramus that writes, and a woman that teaches, +Libera, etc. + +From the doctrine of deposing of a king, +From the DIRECTORY, (2) or any such thing, +From a fine new marriage without a ring, +Libera, etc. + +From a city that yields at the first summons, +From plundering goods, either man or woman's, +Or having to do with the House of Commons, +Libera, etc. + +From a stumbling horse that tumbles o'er and o'er, +From ushering a lady, or walking before, +From an English-Irish rebel, newly come o'er, (3) +Libera, etc. + +From compounding, or hanging in a silken altar, +From oaths and covenants, and being pounded in a mortar, +From contributions, or free-quarter, +Libera, etc. + +From mouldy bread, and musty beer, +From a holiday's fast, and a Friday's cheer, +From a brother-hood, and a she-cavalier, +Libera, etc. + +From Nick Neuter, for you, and for you, +From Thomas Turn-coat, that will never prove true, +From a reverend Rabbi that's worse than a Jew, +Libera, etc. + +From a country justice that still looks big, +From swallowing up the Italian fig, +Or learning of the Scottish jig, +Libera, etc. + +From being taken in a disguise, +From believing of the printed lies, +From the Devil and from the Excise, (4) +Libera, etc. + +From a broken pate with a pint pot, +For fighting for I know not what, +And from a friend as false as a Scot, +Libera, etc. + +From one that speaks no sense, yet talks all that he can, +From an old woman and a Parliament man, +From an Anabaptist and a Presbyter man, +Libera, etc. + +From Irish rebels and Welsh hubbub-men, +From Independents and their tub-men, +From sheriffs' bailiffs, and their club-men, +Libera, etc. + +From one that cares not what he saith, +From trusting one that never payeth, +From a private preacher and a public faith, +Libera, etc. + +From a vapouring horse and a Roundhead in buff, +From roaring Jack Cavee, with money little enough, +From beads and such idolatrous stuff, +Libera, etc. + +From holydays, and all that's holy, +From May-poles and fiddlers, and all that's jolly +From Latin or learning, since that is folly, +Libera, etc. + +And now to make an end of all, +I wish the Roundheads had a fall, +Or else were hanged in Goldsmith's Hall. +Amen. + +Benedicat Dominus. + + + +Ballad: The Old Protestant's Litany + + + +Against all sectaries +And their defendants, +Both Presbyterians +And Independents. + +Mr Walter Wilkins, in his Political Ballads of the Seventeenth and +Eighteenth Centuries, says, the imprint of this broadside intimates +that it was published in "the year of Hope, 1647," and Thomson, the +collector, added the precise date, the 7th of September. + + +That thou wilt be pleased to grant our requests, +And quite destroy all the vipers' nests, +That England and her true religion molests, +Te rogamus audi nos. + +That thou wilt be pleased to censure with pity +The present estate of our once famous city; +Let her still be govern'd by men just and witty, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That thou wilt be pleased to consider the Tower, +And all other prisons in the Parliament's power, +Where King Charles his friends find their welcome but sour, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That thou wilt be pleased to look on the grief +Of the King's old servants, and send them relief, +Restore to the yeomen o' th' Guard chines of beef, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That thou wilt be pleased very quickly to bring +Unto his just rights our so much-wrong'd King, +That he may be happy in everything, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That Whitehall may shine in its pristine lustre, +That the Parliament may make a general muster, +That knaves may be punish'd by men who are juster, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That now the dog-days are fully expired, +That those cursed curs, which our patience have tired, +May suffer what is by true justice required, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That thou wilt be pleased to incline conquering Thomas +(Who now hath both city and Tower gotten from us), +That he may be just in performing his promise, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That our hopeful Prince and our gracious Queen +(Whom we here in England long time have not seen) +May soon be restored to what they have been, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That the rest of the royal issue may be +From their Parliamentary guardians set free, +And be kept according to their high degree, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That our ancient Liturgy may be restored, +That the organs (by sectaries so much abhorr'd) +May sound divine praises, according to the word, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That the ring in marriage, the cross at the font, +Which the devil and the Roundheads so much affront, +May be used again, as before they were wont, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That Episcopacy, used in its right kind, +In England once more entertainment may find, +That Scots and lewd factions may go down the wind, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That thou wilt be pleased again to restore +All things in due order, as they were before, +That the Church and the State may be vex'd no more, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That all the King's friends may enjoy their estates, +And not be kept, as they have been, at low rates, +That the poor may find comfort again at their gates, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That thou wilt all our oppressions remove, +And grant us firm faith and hope, join'd with true love, +Convert or confound all which virtue reprove, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That all peevish sects that would live uncontroll'd, +And will not be govern'd, as all subjects should, +To New England may pack, or live quiet i' th' Old, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That gracious King Charles, with his children and wife, +Who long time have suffer'd through this civil strife, +May end with high honour their natural life, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That they who have seized on honest men's treasure, +Only for their loyalty to God and to Caesar, +May in time convenient find measure for measure, +Te rogamus, etc. + +That thou all these blessings upon us wilt send, +We are no INDEPENDENTS, on Thee we depend, +And as we believe, from all harm us defend; +Te rogamus, etc. + + + +Ballad: Vive Le Roy + + + +From a collection of songs, 1640 to 1660. It is also to be found +in the additional MSS., No. 11, 608, p. 54, in the collection in +the British Museum. It was sung to the air of Love lies bleeding, +- and was, says Mr Chappell, "the God save the King" of Charles I., +Charles II., and James II. + + +What though the zealots pull down the prelates, +Push at the pulpit, and kick at the crown, +Shall we not never once more endeavour, +Strive to purchase our royall renown? +Shall not the Roundhead first be confounded? +Sa, sa, sa, say, boys, ha, ha, ha, ha, boys, +Then we'll return with triumph and joy. +Then we'll be merry, drink white wine and sherry, +Then we will sing, boys, God bless the King, boys, +Cast up our caps, and cry, VIVE LE ROY. + +What though the wise make Alderman Isaac +Put us in prison and steal our estates, +Though we be forced to be unhorsed, +And walk on foot as it pleaseth the fates; +In the King's army no man shall harm ye. +Then come along, boys, valiant and strong, boys, +Fight for your goods, which the Roundheads enjoy; +And when you venture London to enter, +And when you come, boys, with fife and drum, boys, +Isaac himself shall cry, VIVE LE ROY. + +If you will choose them, do not refuse them, +Since honest Parliament never made thieves, +Charles will not further have rogues dipt in murder, +Neither by leases, long lives, nor reprieves. +'Tis the conditions and propositions +Will not be granted, then be not daunted, +We will our honest old customs enjoy; +Paul's not rejected, will be respected, +And in the quier voices rise higher, +Thanks to the heavens, and (cry), VIVE LE ROY. + + + +Ballad: The Cavalier + + + +By Samuel Butler. From his Posthumous Works. A somewhat different +version appears in Chappell's Popular Music of the Olden Time. + + +He that is a clear +Cavalier +Will not repine, +Although +His pocket grow +So very low +He cannot get wine. + +Fortune is a lass +Will embrace, +But soon destroy; +Born free, +In liberty +We'll always be, +Singing VIVE LE ROY. + +Virtue is its own reward, +And Fortune is a whore; +There's none but knaves and fools regard her, +Or her power implore. +But he that is a trusty ROGER, +And will serve the King; +Altho' he be a tatter'd soldier, +Yet may skip and sing: +Whilst we that fight for love, +May in the way of honour prove +That they who make sport of us +May come short of us; +Fate will flatter them, +And will scatter them; +Whilst our loyalty +Looks upon royalty, +We that live peacefully, +May be successfully +Crown'd with a crown at last. + +Tho' a real honest man +May be quite undone, +He'll show his allegiance, +Love, and obedience; +Those will raise him up, +Honour stays him up, +Virtue keeps him up, +And we praise him up. +Whilst the vain courtiers dine, +With their bottles full of wine, +Honour will make him fast. +Freely then +Let's be honest men +And kick at fate, +For we may live to see +Our loyalty +Valued at a higher rate. +He that bears a sword +Or a word against the throne, +And does profanely prate +To abuse the state, +Hath no kindness for his own. + +What tho' painted plumes and prayers +Are the prosp'rous men, +Yet we'll attend our own affairs +'Till they come to 't agen; +Treachery may be faced with light, +And letchery lined with furr; +A cuckold may be made a knight, +Sing FORTUNE DE LA GUERRE. +But what's that to us, brave boys, +That are right honest men? +We'll conquer and come again, +Beat up the drum again; +Hey for CAVALIERS, +Hoe for CAVALIERS, +Drink for CAVALIERS, +Fight for CAVALIERS, +Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, +Have at Old BEELZEBUB, +OLIVER stinks for fear. + +FIFTH MONARCHY-MEN must down, boys, +With bulleys of every sect in town, boys; +We'll rally and to 't again, +Give 'em the rout again; +Fly like light about, +Face to the right-about, +Charge them home again +When they come on again; +SING TANTARA RARA, BOYS, +TANTARA RARA, BOYS, +This is the life of an Old Cavalier. + + + +Ballad: A Caveat To The Roundheads + + + +From the Posthumous Works of Samuel Butler. + + +I come to charge ye +That fight the clergy, +And pull the mitre from the prelate's head, +That you will be wary +Lest you miscarry +In all those factious humours you have bred; +But as for BROWNISTS we'll have none, +But take them all and hang them one by one. + +Your wicked actions +Join'd in factions +Are all but aims to rob the King of his due; +Then give this reason +For your treason, +That you'll be ruled, if he'll be ruled by you. +Then leave these factions, zealous brother, +Lest you be hanged one against another. + + + +Ballad: Hey, Then, Up Go We + + + +This song, says Mr Chappell, in his Popular Music of the Olden +Time, which describes with some humour the taste of the Puritans, +might pass for a Puritan song, if it were not contained in the +"Shepherds' Oracles," by Francis Quarles, 1646. He was cup-bearer +to Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, daughter of James I., and +afterwards chronologer to the city of London. He died in 1644, and +his Shepherds' Oracles were a posthumous publication. It was often +reprinted during the Restoration, and reproduced and slightly +altered by Thomas Durfey, in his "Pills to Purge Melancholy," where +the burthen is, "Hey, boys, up go we." + + +Know this, my brethren, heaven is clear, +And all the clouds are gone; +The righteous man shall flourish now, +Good days are coming on. +Then come, my brethren, and be glad, +And eke rejoyce with me; +Lawn sleeves and rochets shall go down, +And hey, then, up go we. + +We'll break the windows which the whore +Of Babylon hath painted, +And when the popish saints are down +Then Barrow shall be sainted; +There's neither cross nor crucifix +Shall stand for men to see, +Rome's trash and trumpery shall go down, +And hey, then, up go we. + +Whate'er the Popish hands have built +Our hammers shall undo; +We'll break their pipes and burn their copes, +And pull down churches too; +We'll exercise within the groves, +And teach beneath a tree; +We'll make a pulpit of a cask, +And hey, then, up go we. + +We'll put down Universities, +Where learning is profest, +Because they practise and maintain +The language of the Beast; +We'll drive the doctors out of doors, +And all that learned be; +We'll cry all arts and learning down, +And hey, then, up go we. + +We'll down with deans and prebends, too, +And I rejoyce to tell ye +We then shall get our fill of pig, +And capons for the belly. +We'll burn the Fathers' weighty tomes, +And make the School-men flee; +We'll down with all that smells of wit, +And hey, then, up go we. + +If once the Antichristian crew +Be crush'd and overthrown, +We'll teach the nobles how to stoop, +And keep the gentry down: +Good manners have an ill report, +And turn to pride, we see, +We'll therefore put good manners down, +And hey, then, up go we. + +The name of lords shall be abhorr'd, +For every man's a brother; +No reason why in Church and State +One man should rule another; +But when the change of government +Shall set our fingers free, +We'll make these wanton sisters stoop, +And hey, then, up go we. + +What though the King and Parliament +Do not accord together, +We have more cause to be content, +This is our sunshine weather: +For if that reason should take place, +And they should once agree, +Who would be in a Roundhead's case, +For hey, then, up go we. + +What should we do, then, in this case? +Let's put it to a venture; +If that we hold out seven years' space +We'll sue out our indenture. +A time may come to make us rue, +And time may set us free, +Except the gallows claim his due, +And hey, then, up go we. + + + +Ballad: The Clean Contrary Way, Or, Colonel Venne's Encouragement +To His Soldiers + + + +To the air of "Hey, then, up go we." From a Collection of Loyal +Songs written against the Rump Parliament. + + +Fight on, brave soldiers, for the cause, +Fear not the Cavaliers; +Their threat'nings are as senseless as +Our jealousies and fears. +Tis you must perfect this great work, +And all malignants slay; +You must bring back the King again +The clean contrary way. + +'Tis for religion that you fight, +And for the kingdom's good; +By robbing churches, plundering them, +And shedding guiltless blood. +Down with the orthodoxal train, +All loyal subjects slay; +When these are gone, we shall be blest +The clean contrary way. + +When CHARLES we have made bankrupt, +Of power and crown bereft him, +And all his loyal subjects slain, +And none but rebels left him; +When we have beggar'd all the land, +And sent our trunks away, +We'll make him then a glorious prince +The clean contrary way. + +'Tis to preserve his Majesty +That we against him fight, +Nor ever are we beaten back, +Because our cause is right: +If any make a scruple at +Our Declarations, say, - +Who fight for us, fight for the King +The clean contrary way. + +At KEINTON, BRAINSFORD, PLYMOUTH, YORK, +And divers places more, +What victories we saints obtain, +The like ne'er seen before: +How often we Prince RUPERT kill'd, +And bravely won the day, +The wicked Cavaliers did run +The clean contrary way. + +The true religion we maintain, +The kingdom's peace and plenty; +The privilege of Parliament +Not known to one and twenty; +The ancient fundamental laws, +And teach men to obey +Their lawful sovereign, and all these +The clean contrary way. + +We subjects' liberties preserve +By imprisonment and plunder, +And do enrich ourselves and state +By keeping th' wicked under. +We must preserve mechanicks now +To lectorize and pray; +By them the gospel is advanced +The clean contrary way. + +And though the King be much misled +By that malignant crew, +He'll find us honest at the last, +Give all of us our due. +For we do wisely plot, and plot +Rebellion to alloy, +He sees we stand for peace and truth +The clean contrary way. + +The publick faith shall save our souls +And our good works together; +And ships shall save our lives, that stay +Only for wind and weather: +But when our faith and works fall down +And all our hopes decay, +Our acts will bear us up to heaven +The clean contrary way. + + + +Ballad: The Cameronian Cat + + + +A well-known song from Hogg's Jacobite Relics; and popular among +the Cavaliers both of England and Scotland in the days of the +Commonwealth. It was usually sung to a psalm tune; the singers +imitating the style and manner of a precentor at a Presbyterian +church. + + +There was a Cameronian cat +Was hunting for a prey, +And in the house she catch'd a mouse +Upon the Sabbath-day. + +The Whig, being offended +At such an act profane, +Laid by his book, the cat he took, +And bound her in a chain. + +Thou damn'd, thou cursed creature, +This deed so dark with thee, +Think'st thou to bring to hell below +My holy wife and me? + +Assure thyself that for the deed +Thou blood for blood shalt pay, +For killing of the Lord's own mouse +Upon the Sabbath-day. + +The presbyter laid by the book, +And earnestly he pray'd +That the great sin the cat had done +Might not on him be laid. + +And straight to execution +Poor pussy she was drawn, +And high hang'd up upon a tree - +The preacher sung a psalm. + +And when the work was ended, +They thought the cat near dead, +She gave a paw, and then a mew, +And stretched out her head. + +Thy name, said he, shall certainly +A beacon still remain, +A terror unto evil ones +For evermore, Amen. + + + +Ballad: The Royal Feast + + + +A Loyall Song of the Royall Feast kept by the Prisoners in the +Towre, August last, with the Names, Titles, and Characters of every +Prisoner. By Sir F. W., Knight and Baronet, Prisoner. (Sept. +16th, 1647.) + +"In the negotiations between the King and the Parliament during the +summer and autumn of this year," says Mr Thomas Wright in his +Political Ballads of the Commonwealth, published for the Percy +Society, "the case of the royalist prisoners in the Tower was +frequently brought into question. The latter seized the occasion +of complaining against the rigours (complaints apparently +exaggerated) which were exerted against them, and on the 16th June, +1647, was published 'A True Relation of the cruell and unparallel'd +Oppression which hath been illegally imposed upon the Gentlemen +Prisoners in the Tower of London.' The several petitions contained +in this tract have the signatures of Francis Howard, Henry +Bedingfield, Walter Blount, Giles Strangwaies, Francis Butler, +Henry Vaughan, Thomas Lunsford, Richard Gibson, Tho. Violet, John +Morley, Francis Wortley, Edw. Bishop, John Hewet, Wingfield +Bodenham, Henry Warren, W. Morton, John Slaughter, Gilbert +Swinhow." + +On the 19th of August (according to the MODERATE INTELLIGENCER of +that date) the King sent to the royal prisoners in the Tower two +fat bucks for a feast. This circumstance was the origin of the +present ballad. It was written by Sir Francis Wortley, one of the +prisoners. This ballad, as we learn by the concluding lines, was +to be sung to the popular tune of "Chevy Chace." + + +God save the best of kings, King Charles! +The best of queens, Queen Mary! +The ladies all, Gloster and Yorke, +Prince Charles, so like old harry! (5) + +God send the King his own again, +His towre and all his coyners! +And blesse all kings who are to reigne, +From traytors and purloyners! +The King sent us poor traytors here +(But you may guesse the reason) +Two brace of bucks to mend the cheere, +Is't not to eat them treason? + +Let Selden search Cotton's records, +And Rowley in the Towre, +They cannot match the president, +It is not in their power. +Old Collet would have joy'd to 've seen +This president recorded; +For all the papers he ere saw +Scarce such an one afforded. +The King sent us, etc. + +But that you may these traytors know, +I'll be so bold to name them; +That if they ever traytors prove +Then this record may shame them: +But these are well-try'd loyal blades +(If England ere had any), +Search both the Houses through and through +You'ld scarcely finde so many. +The King sent us, etc. + +The first and chiefe a marquesse (6) is, +Long with the State did wrestle; +Had Ogle (7) done as much as he, +Th'ad spoyl'd Will Waller's castle. +Ogle had wealth and title got, +So layd down his commissions; +The noble marquesse would not yield, +But scorn'd all base conditions. +The King sent us, etc. + +The next a worthy bishop (8) is, +Of schismaticks was hated; +But I the cause could never know, +Nor see the reason stated. +The cryes were loud, God knowes the cause, +They had a strange committee, +Which was a-foot well neere a yeare, +Who would have had small pitty. +The King sent us, etc. + +The next to him is a Welsh Judge, (9) +Durst tell them what was treason; +Old honest David durst be good +When it was out of season; +He durst discover all the tricks +The lawyers use, and knavery, +And show the subtile plots they use +To enthrall us into slavery. +The King sent us, etc. + +Frank Wortley (10) hath a jovial soule, +Yet never was good club-man; +He's for the bishops and the church, +But can endure no tub-man. +He told Sir Thomas in the Towre, +Though he by him was undone, +It pleased him that he lost more men +In taking him then London. +The King sent us, etc. + +Sir Edward Hayles (11) was wond'rous rich, +No flower in Kent yields honey +In more abundance to the bee +Then they from him suck money; +Yet hee's as chearfull as the best - +Judge Jenkins sees no reason +That honest men for wealth should be +Accused of high treason. +The King sent us, etc. + +Old Sir George Strangways (12) he came in, +Though he himself submitted, +Yet as a traytor he must be +Excepted and committed: +Yet they th' exception now take off, +But not the sequestrations, +Hee must forsooth to Goldsmith's-hall, +The place of desolation. +The King sent us, etc. + +Honest Sir Berr's a reall man, +As ere was lapt in leather; +But he (God blesse us) loves the King, +And therefore was sent hither. +He durst be sheriff, and durst make +The Parliament acquainted +What he intended for to doe, +And for this was attainted. +The King sent us, etc. + +Sir Benefield, (13) Sir Walter Blunt, +Are Romishly affected, +So's honest Frank of Howard's race, +And slaughter is suspected. (14) +But how the devill comes this about, +That Papists are so loyall, +And those that call themselves God's saints +Like devils do destroy all? +The King sent us, etc. + +Jack Hewet (15) will have wholesome meat, +And drink good wine, if any; +His entertainment's free and neat, +His choyce of friends not many; +Jack is a loyall-hearted man, +Well parted and a scholar; +He'll grumble if things please him not, +But never grows to choller. +The King sent us, etc. + +Gallant Sir Thomas, (16) bold and stout +(Brave Lunsford), children eateth; +But he takes care, where he eats one, +There he a hundred getteth; +When Harlow's wife brings her long bills, +He wishes she were blinded; +When shee speaks loud, as loud he swears +The woman's earthly-minded. +The King sent us, etc. + +Sir Lewis (17) hath an able pen, +Can cudgell a committee; +He makes them doe him reason, though +They others do not pitty. +Brave Cleaveland had a willing minde, +Frank Wortley was not able, +But Lewis got foure pound per weeke +For's children and his table. +The King sent us, etc. + +Giles Strangwayes (18) has a gallant soul, +A brain infatigable; +What study he ere undertakes +To master it hee's able: +He studies on his theoremes, +And logarithmes for number; +He loves to speake of Lewis Dives, (19) +And they are ne'er asunder. +The King sent us, etc. + +Sir John Marlow's (20) a loyall man +(If England ere bred any), +He bang'd the pedlar back and side, +Of Scots he killed many. +Had General King (21) done what he should, +And given the blew-caps battail, +Wee'd make them all run into Tweed +By droves, like sommer cattell. +The King sent us, etc. + +Will Morton's (22) of that Cardinal's race, +Who made that blessed maryage; +He is most loyall to his King, +In action, word, and carryage; +His sword and pen defends the cause, +If King Charles thinke not on him, +Will is amongst the rest undone, - +The Lord have mercy on him! +The King sent us, etc. + +Tom Conisby (23) is stout and stern, +Yet of a sweet condition; +To them he loves his crime was great, +He read the King's commission, +And required Cranborn to assist; +He charged, but should have pray'd him; +Tom was so bold he did require +All for the King should aid him. +The King sent us, etc. + +But I Win. Bodnam (24) had forgot, +Had suffer'd so much hardship; +There's no man in the Towre had left +The King so young a wardship; +He's firme both to the church and crowne, +The crown law and the canon; +The Houses put him to his shifts, +And his wife's father Mammon. +The King sent us, etc. + +Sir Henry Vaughan (25) looks as grave +As any beard can make him; +Those come poore prisoners for to see +Doe for our patriarke take him. +Old Harry is a right true-blue, +As valiant as Pendraggon; +And would be loyall to his King, +Had King Charles ne'er a rag on. +The King sent us, etc. + +John Lilburne (26) is a stirring blade, +And understands the matter; +He neither will king, bishops, lords, +Nor th' House of Commons flatter: +John loves no power prerogative, +But that derived from Sion; +As for the mitre and the crown, +Those two he looks awry on. +The King sent us, etc. + +Tom Violet (27) swears his injuries +Are scarcely to be numbred; +He was close prisoner to the State +These score dayes and nine hundred; +For Tom does set down all the dayes, +And hopes he has good debters; +'Twould be no treason (Jenkin sayes) +To bring them peaceful letters. +The King sent us, etc. + +Poore Hudson (28) of all was the last, +For it was his disaster, +He met a turncoat swore that he +Was once King Charles his master; +So he to London soon was brought, +But came in such a season, +Their martial court was then cry'd down, +They could not try his treason. +The king sent us, etc. + +Else Hudson had gone to the pot, +Who is he can abide him? +For he was master to the King, +And (which is more) did guide him. +Had Hudson done (as Judas did), +Most loyally betray'd him, +The Houses are so noble, they +As bravely would have paid him. +The King sent us, etc. + +We'll then conclude with hearty healths +To King Charles and Queen Mary; +To the black lad in buff (the Prince), +So like his grandsire Harry; +To York, to Glo'ster; may we not +Send Turk and Pope defiance, +Since we such gallant seconds have +To strengthen our alliance? +Wee'l drink them o're and o're again, +Else we're unthankfull creatures; +Since Charles, the wise, the valiant King, +Takes us for loyall traytors. + +This if you will rhyme dogrell call, +(That you please you may name it,) +One of the loyal traytors here +Did for a ballad frame it: +Old Chevy Chace was in his minde; +If any suit it better, +All those concerned in the song +Will kindly thank the setter. + + + +Ballad: Upon His Majesty's Coming To Holmby + + + +Charles I., after his surrender to the English Commissioners by the +Scotch, was conveyed to Holmby House, Northamptonshire, 16th +February, 1647. + + +Hold out, brave Charles, and thou shaft win the field; +Thou canst not lose thyself, unless thou yield +On such conditions as will force thy hand +To give away thy sceptre, crown, and land. +And what is worse, to hazard by thy fall, +To lose a greater crown, more worth than all. + +Thy poor distressed Cavaliers rejoyced +To hear thy royal resolution voiced, +And are content far more poor to be +Than yet they are, so it reflects from thee. +Thou art our sovereign still, in spite of hate; +Our zeal is to thy PERSON, not thy STATE. + +We are not so ambitious to desire +Our drooping fortunes to be mounted higher, +And thou so great a monarch, to our grief, +Must sue unto thy subjects for relief: +And when they sit and long debate about it, +Must either stay their time, or go without it. + +No, sacred prince, thy friends esteem thee more +In thy distresses than ere they did before; +And though their wings be clipt, their wishes fly +To heaven by millions, for a fresh supply. +That as thy cause was so betray'd by MEN, +It may by ANGELS be restored agen. + + + +Ballad: I Thank You Twice + + + +Or + +The city courting their own ruin, +Thank the Parliament twice for their treble undoing. +A street ballad. From a broadside, 1647. + + +The hierarchy is out of date, +Our monarchy was sick of late, +But now 'tis grown an excellent state: +Oh, God a-mercy, Parliament! + +The teachers knew not what to say, +The 'prentices have leave to play, +The people have all forgotten to pray; +Still, God a-mercy, Parliament! + +The Roundhead and the Cavalier +Have fought it out almost seven year, +And yet, methinks, they are never the near: +Oh, God, etc. + +The gentry are sequester'd all; +Our wives you find at Goldsmith Hall, +For there they meet with the devil and all; +Still, God, etc. + +The Parliament are grown to that height +They care not a pin what his Majesty saith; +And they pay all their debts with the public faith. +Oh, God, etc. + +Though all we have here is brought to nought, +In Ireland we have whole lordships bought, +There we shall one day be rich, 'tis thought: +Still, God, etc. + +We must forsake our father and mother, +And for the State undo our own brother +And never leave murthering one another: +Oh, God, etc. + +Now the King is caught and the devil is dead; +Fairfax must be disbanded, +Or else he may chance be Hotham-ed. +Still, God, etc. + +They have made King Charles a glorious king, +He was told, long ago, of such a thing; +Now he and his subjects have reason to sing, +Oh, God, etc. + + + +Ballad: The Cities Loyaltie To The King + + + +(Aug. 13th, 1647.) + +The city of London made several demonstrations this year to support +the Presbyterian party in the Parliament against the Independents +and the army. In the latter end of September, after the army had +marched to London, and the Parliament acted under its influence, +the lord mayor and a large part of the aldermen were committed to +the Tower on the charge of high treason; and a new mayor for the +rest of the year was appointed by the Parliament. + +To the tune of "London is a fine town and a gallant city." + + +Why kept your train-bands such a stirre? +Why sent you them by clusters? +Then went into Saint James's Parke? +Why took you then their musters? +Why rode my Lord up Fleet-street +With coaches at least twenty, +And fill'd they say with aldermen, +As good they had been empty? +London is a brave towne, +Yet I their cases pitty; +Their mayor and some few aldermen +Have cleane undone the city. + +The 'prentices are gallant blades, +And to the king are clifty; +But the lord mayor and aldermen +Are scarce so wise as thrifty. +I'le pay for the apprentices, +They to the King were hearty; +For they have done all that they can +To advance their soveraignes party. +London, etc. + +What's now become of your brave Poyntz? +And of your Generall Massey? (29) +If you petition for a peace, +These gallants they will slash yee. +Where now are your reformadoes? +To Scotland gone together: +'Twere better they were fairly trusst +Then they should bring them thither. +London, etc. + +But if your aldermen were false, +Or Glyn, that's your recorder! (30) +Let them never betray you more, +But hang them up in order. +All these men may be coach't as well +As any other sinner +Up Holborne, and ride forwarde still, +To Tyburne to their dinner. +London, &c. + +God send the valiant General may +Restore the King to glory! (31) +Then that name I have honour'd so +Will famous be in story; +While if he doe not, I much feare +The ruine of the nation, +And (that I should be loth to see) +His house's desolation. +London, etc. + + + +Ballad: The Lawyers' Lamentation For The Loss Of Charing-Cross + + + +From a Collection of Loyal Songs, 1610 to 1660. + + +Undone! undone! the lawyers cry, +They ramble up and down; +We know not the way to WESTMINSTER +Now CHARING-CROSS is down. +Now fare thee well, old Charing-Cross, +Then fare thee well, old stump; +It was a thing set up by a King, +And so pull'd down by the RUMP. + +And when they came to the bottom of the Strand +They were all at a loss: +This is not the way to WESTMINSTER, +We must go by CHARING-CROSS. +Then fare thee well, etc. + +The Parliament did vote it down +As a thing they thought most fitting, +For fear it should fall, and so kill 'em all +In the House as they were sitting. +Then fare thee well, etc. + +Some letters about this CROSS were found, +Or else it might been freed; +But I dare say, and safely swear, +It could neither write nor read. +Then fare thee well, etc. + +The WHIGs they do affirm and say +To POPERY it was bent; +For what I know it might be so, +For to church it never went, +Then fare thee well, etc. + +This cursed RUMP-REBELLIOUS CREW, +They were so damn'd hard-hearted; +They pass'd a vote that CHARING-CROSS +Should be taken down and carted: +Then fare thee well, etc. + +Now, WHIGS, I would advise you all, +'Tis what I'd have you do; +For fear the King should come again, +Pray pull down TYBURN too. +Then fare thee well, etc. + + + +Ballad: The Downfal Of Charing-Cross + + + +Charing-Cross, as it stood before the civil wars, was one of those +beautiful Gothic obelisks, erected to conjugal affection by Edward +I., who built such a one wherever the hearse of his beloved Eleanor +rested in its way from Lincolnshire to Westminster. But neither +its ornamental situation, the beauty of its structure, nor the +noble design of its erection (which did honour to humanity), could +preserve it from the merciless zeal of the times; for in 1647 it +was demolished by order of the House of Commons, as Popish and +superstitious. This occasioned the following not unhumorous +sarcasm, which has been often printed among the popular sonnets of +those times. + +The plot referred to in ver. 3 was that entered into by Mr Waller +the poet, and others, with a view to reduce the city and Tower to +the service of the King; for which two of them, Nath. Tomkins and +Richard Chaloner, suffered death, July 5, 1643. Vid. Ath. Ox. 11. +24. - PERCY'S RELIQUES OF ANCIENT ENGLISH POETRY. + + +Undone! undone! the lawyers are, +They wander about the towne, +Nor can find the way to Westminster +Now Charing-Cross is downe: +At the end of the Strand they make a stand, +Swearing they are at a loss, +And chaffing say, that's not the way, +They must go by Charing-Cross. + +The Parliament to vote it down +Conceived it very fitting, +For fear it should fall, and kill them all +In the House as they were sitting. +They were told god-wot, it had a plot, +Which made them so hard-hearted, +To give command it should not stand, +But be taken down and carted. + +Men talk of plots, this might have been worse, +For anything I know, +Than that TOMKINS and CHALONER +Were hang'd for long agoe. +Our Parliament did that prevent, +And wisely them defended, +For plots they will discover still +Before they were intended. + +But neither man, woman, nor child +Will say, I'm confident, +They ever heard it speak one word +Against the Parliament. +An informer swore it letters bore, +Or else it had been freed; +In troth I'll take my Bible oath +It could neither write nor read. + +The Committee said that verify +To Popery it was bent: +For ought I know, it might be so, +For to church it never went. +What with excise, and such device, +The kingdom doth begin +To think you'll leave them ne'er a cross +Without doors nor within. + +Methinks the Common-council should +Of it have taken pity, +'Cause, good old cross, it always stood +So firmly to the city. +Since crosses you so much disdain, +Faith, if I were as you, +For fear the King should rule again +I'd pull down Tiburn too. + + +Whitlocke says, "May 3rd, 1643, Cheapside Cross and other crosses +were voted down," &c. When this vote was put in execution does not +appear; probably not till many mouths after Tomkins and Chaloner +had suffered. + +We had a very curious account of the pulling down of Cheapside +Cross lately published in one of the Numbers of the GENTLEMEN'S +MAGAZINE, 1766. - PERCY'S RELIQUES. + + + +Ballad: The Long Parliament + + + +By John Cleveland. + + +Most gracious and omnipotent, +And everlasting Parliament, +Whose power and majesty +Are greater than all kings by odds; +And to account you less than gods +Must needs be blasphemy. + +Mosses and Aaron ne'er did do +More wonder than is wrought by you +For England's Israel; +But though the Red Sea we have past, +If you to Canaan bring's at last, +Is't not a miracle - ? + +In six years' space you have done more +Than all the parliaments before; +You have quite done the work. +The King, the Cavalier, and Pope, +You have o'erthrown, and next we hope +You will confound the Turk. + +By you we have deliverance +From the design of Spain and France, +Ormond, Montrose, the Danes; +You, aided by our brethren Scots, +Defeated have malignant plots, +And brought your sword to Cain's. + +What wholesome laws you have ordain'd, +Whereby our property's maintain'd, +'Gainst those would us undo; +So that our fortunes and our lives, +Nay, what is dearer, our own wives, +Are wholly kept by you. + +Oh! what a flourishing Church and State +Have we enjoy'd e'er since you sate, +With a glorious King (God save him!): +Have you not made his Majesty, +Had he the grace but to comply, +And do as you would have him! + +Your DIRECTORY how to pray +By the spirit shows the perfect way; +In real you have abolisht +The Dagon of the COMMON PRAYER, +And next we see you will take care +That churches be demolisht. + +A multitude in every trade +Of painful preachers you have made, +Learned by revelation; +Cambridge and Oxford made poor preachers, +Each shop affordeth better teachers, - +O blessed reformation! + +Your godly wisdom hath found out +The true religion, without doubt; +For sure among so many +We have five hundred at the least; +Is not the gospel much increast? +All must be pure, if any. + +Could you have done more piously +Than sell church lands the King to buy, +And stop the city's plaints? +Paying the Scots church-militant, +That the new gospel helpt to plant; +God knows they are poor saints! + +Because th' Apostles' Creed is lame, +Th' Assembly doth a better frame, +Which saves us all with ease; +Provided still we have the grace +To believe th' House in the first place, +Our works be what they please. + +'Tis strange your power and holiness +Can't the Irish devils dispossess, +His end is very stout: +But tho' you do so often pray, +And ev'ry month keep fasting-day, +You cannot cast them out. + + + +Ballad: The Puritan + + + +By John Cleveland. To the tune of "An old Courtier of the +Queen's." + + +With face and fashion to be known, +For one of sure election; +With eyes all white, and many a groan, +With neck aside to draw in tone, +With harp in's nose, or he is none: +See a new teacher of the town, +Oh the town, oh the town's new teacher! + +With pate cut shorter than the brow, +With little ruff starch'd, you know how, +With cloak like Paul, no cape I trow, +With surplice none; but lately now +With hands to thump, no knees to bow: +See a new teacher, etc. + +With coz'ning cough, and hollow cheek, +To get new gatherings every week, +With paltry change of AND to EKE, +With some small Hebrew, and no Greek, +To find out words, when stuff's to seek: +See a new teacher, etc. + +With shop-board breeding and intrusion, +With some outlandish institution, +With Ursine's catechism to muse on, +With system's method for confusion, +With grounds strong laid of mere illusion: +See a new teacher, etc. + +With rites indifferent all damned, +And made unlawful, if commanded; +Good works of Popery down banded, +And moral laws from him estranged, +Except the sabbath still unchanged: +See a new teacher, etc. + +With speech unthought, quick revelation, +With boldness in predestination, +With threats of absolute damnation +Yet YEA and NAY hath some salvation +For his own tribe, not every nation: +See a new teacher, etc. + +With after license cast a crown, +When Bishop new had put him down; +With tricks call'd repetition, +And doctrine newly brought to town +Of teaching men to hang and drown: +See a new teacher, etc. + +With flesh-provision to keep Lent, +With shelves of sweetmeats often spent, +Which new maid bought, old lady sent, +Though, to be saved, a poor present, +Yet legacies assure to event: +See a new teacher, etc. + +With troops expecting him at th' door, +That would hear sermons, and no more; +With noting tools, and sighs great store, +With Bibles great to turn them o'er, +While he wrests places by the score: +See a new teacher, etc. + +With running text, the named forsaken, +With FOR and BUT, both by sense shaken, +Cheap doctrines forced, wild uses taken, +Both sometimes one by mark mistaken; +With anything to any shapen: +See a new teacher, etc. + +With new-wrought caps, against the canon, +For taking cold, tho' sure he have none; +A sermon's end, where he began one, +A new hour long, when's glass had run one, +New use, new points, new notes to stand on: +See a new teacher, etc. + + + +Ballad: The Roundhead + + + +From Samuel Butler's Posthumous Works. + + +What creature's that, with his short hairs, +His little band, and huge long ears, +That this new faith hath founded? +The saints themselves were never such, +The prelates ne'er ruled half so much; +Oh! such a rogue's a Roundhead. + +What's he that doth the bishops hate, +And counts their calling reprobate, +'Cause by the Pope propounded; +And thinks a zealous cobbler better +Than learned Usher in ev'ry letter? +Oh! such a rogue's a Roundhead. + +What's he that doth HIGH TREASON say, +As often as his YEA and NAY, +And wish the King confounded; +And dares maintain that Mr Pim +Is fitter for a crown than him? +Oh! such a rogue's a Roundhead. + +What's he that if he chance to hear +A little piece of COMMON PRAYER, +Doth think his conscience wounded; +Will go five miles to preach and pray, +And meet a sister by the way? +Oh! such a rogue's a Roundhead. + +What's he that met a holy sister +And in a haycock gently kiss'd her? +Oh! then his zeal abounded: +'Twas underneath a shady willow, +Her Bible served her for a pillow, +And there he got a Roundhead. + + + +Ballad: Prattle Your Pleasure Under The Rose + + + +From the King's Pamphlets, British Museum. + + +There is an old proverb which all the world knows, +Anything may be spoke, if 't be under the rose: +Then now let us speak, whilst we are in the hint, +Of the state of the land, and th' enormities in't. + +Under the rose be it spoke, there is a number of knaves, +More than ever were known in a State before; +But I hope that their mischiefs have digg'd their own graves, +And we'll never trust knaves for their sakes any more. + +Under the rose be it spoken, the city's an ass +So long to the public to let their gold run, +To keep the King out; but 'tis now come to pass, +I am sure they will lose, whosoever has won. + +Under the rose be it spoken, there's a company of men, +Trainbands they are called - a plague confound 'em:- +And when they are waiting at Westminster Hall, +May their wives be beguiled and begat with child all! + +Under the rose be it spoken, there's a damn'd committee +Sits in hell (Goldsmiths' Hall), in the midst of the city, +Only to sequester the poor Cavaliers - +The devil take their souls, and the hangman their ears. + +Under the rose be it spoken, if you do not repent +Of that horrible sin, your pure Parliament, +Pray stay till Sir Thomas doth bring in the King, +Then Derrick (32) may chance have 'em all in a string. + +Under the rose be it spoken, let the synod now leave +To wrest the whole Scripture, how souls to deceive; +For all they have spoken or taught will ne'er save 'em, +Unless they will leave that fault, hell's sure to have 'em! + + + +Ballad: The Dominion Of The Sword + + + +A song made in the Rebellion. + +From the Loyal Garland, 1686. To the tune of "Love lies a +bleeding." + + +Lay by your pleading, +Law lies a bleeding; +Burn all your studies down, and +Throw away your reading. + +Small pow'r the word has, +And can afford us +Not half so much privilege as +The sword does. + +It fosters your masters, +It plaisters disasters, +It makes the servants quickly greater +Than their masters. + +It venters, it enters, +It seeks and it centers, +It makes a'prentice free in spite +Of his indentures. + +It talks of small things, +But it sets up all things; +This masters money, though money +Masters all things. + +It is not season +To talk of reason, +Nor call it loyalty, when the sword +Will have it treason. + +It conquers the crown, too, +The grave and the gown, too, +First it sets up a presbyter, and +Then it pulls him down too. + +This subtle disaster +Turns bonnet to beaver; +Down goes a bishop, sirs, and up +Starts a weaver. + +This makes a layman +To preach and to pray, man; +And makes a lord of him that +Was but a drayman. + +Far from the gulpit +Of Saxby's pulpit, +This brought an Hebrew ironmonger +To the pulpit. + +Such pitiful things be +More happy than kings be; +They get the upper hand of Thimblebee +And Slingsbee. + +No gospel can guide it, +No law can decide it, +In Church or State, till the sword +Has sanctified it. + +Down goes your law-tricks, +Far from the matricks, +Sprung up holy Hewson's power, +And pull'd down St Patrick's. + +This sword it prevails, too, +So highly in Wales, too, +Shenkin ap Powel swears +"Cots-splutterer nails, too." + +In Scotland this faster +Did make such disaster, +That they sent their money back +For which they sold their master. + +It batter'd their Gunkirk, +And so it did their Spainkirk, +That he is fled, and swears the devil +Is in Dunkirk. + +He that can tower, +Or he that is lower, +Would be judged a fool to put +Away his power. + +Take books and rent 'em, +Who can invent 'em, +When that the sword replies, +NEGATUR ARGUMENTUM. + +Your brave college-butlers +Must stoop to the sutlers; +There's ne'er a library +Like to the cutlers'. + +The blood that was spilt, sir, +Hath gain'd all the gilt, sir; +Thus have you seen me run my +Sword up to the hilt, sir. + + + +Ballad: The State's New Coin + + + +The coinage issued during the Protectorate of Cromwell, consisted +of pieces having on the obverse side a shield with St George's +cross, encircled by a laurel and palm branch, and the words, "The +Commonwealth of England." On the reverse side was the legend, "God +with us," and two shields, bearing the arms of England and Ireland. + + +Saw you the State's money new come from the Mint? +Some people do say it is wonderous fine; +And that you may read a great mystery in't, +Of mighty King Nol, the lord of the coin. + +They have quite omitted his politic head, +His worshipful face, and his excellent nose; +But the better to show the life he had led, +They have fix'd upon it the print of his hose. + +For, if they had set up his picture there, +They needs must ha' crown'd him in Charles's stead; +But 'twas cunningly done, that they did forbear, +And rather would set up aught else than his head. + +'Tis monstrous strange, and yet it is true, +In this reformation we should have such luck; +That crosses were always disdain'd by you, +Who before pull'd them down, should now set them up. + +On this side they have circumscribed "God with us," +And in this stamp and coin they confide; +COMMON-WEALTH on the other, by which we may guess +That God and the States were not both of a side. + +On this side they have cross and harp, +And only a cross on the other set forth; +By which we may learn, it falls to our part +Two crosses to have for one fit of mirth! + + + +Ballad: The Anarchie, Or The Blest Reformation Since 1640 + + + +Being a new song, wherein the people expresse their thankes and +pray for the reformers. + +To be said or sung of all the well-affected of the kingdome of +England, and dominion of Wales, before the breaking up of this +unhappy Parliament. + +[From the King's Pamphlets, British Museum. It is printed but +incorrectly in the "Rump Songs," ed. 1665, under the title of "The +Rebellion."] + +To a rare new Tune. (Oct. 24, 1648.) + + +Now that, thankes to the powers below! +We have e'ne done out our doe, +The mitre is downe, and so is the crowne, +And with them the coronet too; +Come clownes, and come boyes, come hober-de-hoyes, +Come females of each degree; +Stretch your throats, bring in your votes, +And make good the anarchy. +And "thus it shall goe," sayes Alice; +"Nay, thus it shall goe," sayes Amy; +"Nay, thus it shall goe," sayes Taffie, "I trow;" +"Nay, thus it shall goe," sayes Jamy. + +Ah! but the truth, good people all, +The truth is such a thing; +For it wou'd undoe both Church and State too, +And cut the throat of our King. +Yet not the spirit, nor the new light, +Can make this point so cleare, +But thou must bring out, thou deified rout, +What thing this truth is, and where. +Speak Abraham, speak Kester, speak Judith, speak Hester, +Speak tag and rag, short coat and long; +Truth's the spell made us rebell, +And murther and plunder, ding-dong. +"Sure I have the truth," sayes Numph; +"Nay, I ha' the truth," sayes Clemme; +"Nay, I ha' the truth," sayes Reverend Ruth; +"Nay, I ha' the truth," sayes Nem. + +Well, let the truth be where it will, +We're sure all else is ours; +Yet these divisions in our religions +May chance abate our powers. +Then let's agree on some one way, +It skills not much how true; +Take Pryn and his clubs; or Say and his tubs, (33) +Or any sect old or new; +The devil's i' th' pack, if choyce you can lack, +We're fourscore religions strong; +Take your choyce, the major voyce +Shall carry it, right or wrong. +"Then wee'le be of this," sayes Megg; +"Nay, wee'le be of that," sayes Tibb; +"Nay, wee'le be of all," sayes pitifull Paul; +"Nay, wee'le be of none," sayes Gibb. + +Neighbours and friends, pray one word more, +There's something yet behinde; +And wise though you be, you doe not well see +In which doore sits the winde. +As for religion to speake right, +And in the Houses sence, +The matter's all one to have any or none, +If 'twere not for the pretence. +But herein doth lurke the key of the worke, +Even to dispose of the crowne, +Dexteriously, and as may be, +For your behoofe and your owne. +"Then let's ha' King Charles," sayes George; +"Nay, let's have his son," sayes Hugh; +"Nay, let's have none," sayes Jabbering Jone; +"Nay, let's be all kings," sayes Prue. + +Oh we shall have (if we go on +In plunder, excise, and blood) +But few folke and poore to domineere ore, +And that will not be so good; +Then let's resolve on some new way, +Some new and happy course, +The country's growne sad, the city horne-mad, +And both the Houses are worse. +The synod hath writ, the generall hath spit, +And both to like purposes too; +Religion, lawes, the truth, the cause, +Are talk't of, but nothing we doe. +"Come, come, shal's ha' peace?" sayes Nell; +"No, no, but we won't," sayes Madge; +"But I say we will," sayes firy-faced Phill; +"We will and we won't," sayes Hodge. + +Thus from the rout who can expect +Ought but division? +Since unity doth with monarchy +Begin and end in one. +If then when all is thought their owne, +And lyes at their behest, +These popular pates reap nought but debates, +From that many round-headed beast; +Come, Royalists, then, doe you play the men, +And Cavaliers give the word; +Now let us see at what you would be, +And whether you can accord. +"A health to King Charles!" sayes Tom; +"Up with it," sayes Ralph, like a man; +"God blesse him," sayes Doll; "and raise him," sayes Moll; +"And send him his owne!" sayes Nan. + +Now for these prudent things that sit +Without end and to none, +And their committees, that townes and cities +Fill with confusion; +For the bold troopes of sectaries, +The Scots and their partakers, +Our new British states, Col. Burges and his mates, +The covenant and its makers; +For all these wee'le pray, and in such a way, +As if it might granted be, +Jack and Gill, Mat and Will, +And all the world would agree. +"A plague take them all!" sayes Besse; +"And a pestilence too!" sayes Margery, +"The devill!" sayes Dick; "And his dam, (34) too!" sayes Nick; +"Amen! and Amen!" say I. + + +It is desired that the knights and burgesses would take especial +care to send down full numbers hereof to their respective counties +and burroughs, for which they have served apprenticeship, that all +the people may rejoyce as one man for their freedom. + + + +Ballad: A Coffin For King Charles, A Crown For Cromwell, And A Pit +For The People + + + +From a broadside in the King's Pamphlets, vol. viii. in the British +Museum, with the direction, "You may sing this to the tune of +'Faine I would.'" The tune sometimes called "Parthenia," and "The +King's Complaint," is to be found in Mr Chappell's Popular Music of +the Olden Time. The King was beheaded in January, 1649. This +Ballad is dated the 23rd of April in the same year. + + +CROMWELL ON THE THRONE. + +So, so, the deed is done, +The royal head is sever'd, +As I meant when I first begun, +And strongly have endeavour'd. +Now Charles the First is tumbled down, +The Second I do not fear; +I grasp the sceptre, wear the crown, +Nor for Jehovah care. + +KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN. + +Think'st thou, base slave, though in my grave +Like other men I lie, +My sparkling fame and royal name +Can (as thou wishest) die? +Know, caitif, in my son I live +(The Black Prince call'd by some), +And he shall ample vengeance give +To those that did my doom. + +THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT. + +Supprest, deprest, involved in woes, +Great Charles, thy people be +Basely deceived with specious shows +By those that murther'd thee. +We are enslaved to tyrants' hests, +Who have our freedom won: +Our fainting hope now only rests +On thy succeeding son. + +CROMWELL ON THE THRONE. + +Base vulgar! know, the more you stir, +The more your woes increase, +Your rashness will your hopes deter, +'Tis we must give you peace. +Black Charles a traitor is proclaim'd +Unto our dignity; +He dies (if e'er by us he's gain'd) +Without all remedy. + +KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN. + +Thrice perjured villain! didst not thou +And thy degenerate train, +By mankind's Saviour's body vow +To me thy sovereign, +To make me the most glorious king +That e'er o'er England reign'd; +That me and mine in everything +By you should be maintain'd? + +THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT. + +Sweet prince! O let us pardon crave +Of thy beloved shade; +'Tis we that brought thee to the grave, +Thou wert by us betray'd. +We did believe 'twas reformation +These monsters did desire; +Not knowing that thy degradation +And death should be our hire. + +CROMWELL ON THE THRONE. + +Ye sick-brain'd fools! whose wit does lie +In your small guts; could you +Imagine our conspiracy +Did claim no other due, +But for to spend our dearest bloods +To make rascallions flee? +No, we sought for your lives and goods, +And for a monarchy. + +KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN. + +But there's a Thunderer above, +Who, though he winks awhile, +Is not with your black deeds in love, +He hates your damned guile. +And though a time you perch upon +The top of Fortune's wheel, +You shortly unto Acharon +(Drunk with your crimes) shall reel. + +THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT. + +Meanwhile (thou glory of the earth) +We languishing do die: +EXCISE doth give free-quarters birth, +While soldiers multiply. +Our lives we forfeit every day, +Our money cuts our throats; +The laws are taken clean away, +Or shrunk to traitor's votes. + +CROMWELL ON THE THRONE. + +Like patient mules resolve to bear +Whate'er we shall impose; +Your lives and goods you need not fear, +We'll prove your friends, not foes. +We (the ELECTED ones) must guide +A thousand years this land; +You must be props unto our pride, +And slaves to our command. + +KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN. + +But you may fail of your fair hopes, +If fates propitious be; +And yield your loathed lives in ropes +To vengeance and to me. +When as the Swedes and Irish join, +The Cumbrian and the Scot +Do with the Danes and French combine, +Then look unto your lot. + +THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT. + +Our wrongs have arm'd us with such strength, +So sad is our condition, +That could we hope that now at length +We might find intermission, +And had but half we had before, +Ere these mechanics sway'd; +To our revenge, knee-deep in gore, +We would not fear to wade. + +CROMWELL ON THE THRONE. + +In vain (fond people) do you grutch +And tacitly repine. +For why? my skill and strength are such +Both poles of heaven are mine. +Your hands and purses both cohered +To raise us to this height: +You must protect those you have rear'd, +Or sink beneath their weight. + +KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN. + +Singing with angels near the throne +Of the Almighty Three +I sit, and know perdition +(Base Cromwell) waits on thee, +And on thy vile associates: +Twelve months (35) shall full conclude +Your power - thus speak the powerful fates, +Then VADES your interlude. + +THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT. + +Yea, powerful fates, haste, haste the time, +The most auspicious day, +On which these monsters of our time +To hell must post away. +Meanwhile, so pare their sharpen'd claws, +And so impair their stings, +We may no more fight for the Cause +Or other NOVEL things! + + + +Ballad: A Short Litany For The Year 1649 + + + +By Samuel Butler. (From his Posthumous Works.) + + +From all the mischiefs that I mention here, +Preserve us, Heaven, in this approaching year: +From civil wars and those uncivil things +That hate the race of all our queens and kings; +From those who for self-ends would all betray, +From saints that curse and flatter when they pray; +From those that hold it merit to rebel, +In treason, murthers, and in theft excel; +From those new teachers have destroy'd the old, +And those that turn the gospel into gold; +From a High-Court, and that rebellious crew +That did their hands in royal blood imbrue, - +Defend us, Heaven, and to the throne restore +The rightful heir, and we will ask no more. + + + +Ballad: The Sale Of Rebellion's House-Hold Stuff + + + +Printed in "Percy's Reliques," from an old black-letter copy in Mr +Pepys' collection, corrected by two others, one of which is +preserved in a Choice Collection of 120 Loyal Songs - 1684 + +To the tune of "Old Sir Simon the King." + + +Rebellion hath broken up house, +And hath left me old lumber to sell; +Come hither and take your choice, +I'll promise to use you well. +Will you buy the old Speaker's chair? +Which was warm and easy to sit in, +And oft has been clean'd, I declare, +Whereas it was fouler than fitting. +Says old Simon the King, +Says old Simon the King, +With his ale-dropt hose, and his Malmsey nose, +Sing, hey ding, ding-a-ding, ding. + +Will you buy any bacon flitches, +The fattest that ever were spent? +They're the sides of the old committees +Fed up in the Long Parliament. +Here's a pair of bellows and tongs, +And for a small matter I'll sell ye 'um, +They are made of the presbyter's lungs, +To blow up the coals of rebellion. +Says old Simon, etc. + +I had thought to have given them once +To some blacksmith for his forge; +But now I have consider'd on't, +They are consecrate to the Church: +So I'll give them unto some quire, +They will make the big organs roar, +And the little pipes to squeak higher +Than ever they could before. +Says old Simon, etc. + +Here's a couple of stools for sale, +One's square, and t'other is round; +Betwixt them both, the tail +Of the Rump fell down to the ground. +Will you buy the State's council-table, +Which was made of the good wain-Scot? +The frame was a tottering Babel, +To uphold th' Independent plot. +Says old Simon, etc. + +Here's the besom of Reformation, +Which should have made clean the floor; +But it swept the wealth out of the nation, +And left us dirt good store. +Will you buy the state's spinning-wheel, +Which spun for the roper's trade? +But better it had stood still, +For now it has spun a fair thread. +Says old Simon, etc. + +Here's a glyster-pipe well tried, +Which was made of a butcher's stump, +And has been safely applied +To cure the colds of the Rump. +Here's a lump of pilgrim's-salve, +Which once was a justice of peace, +Who Noll and the devil did serve, +But now it is come to this, +Says old Simon, etc. + +Here's a roll of the State's tobacco, +If any good fellow will take it; +No Virginia had e'er such a Smack-o, +And I'll tell you how they did make it: +'Tis th' Engagement and Covenant cook't +Up with the abjuration oath, +And many of them that have took't +Complain it was foul in the mouth. +Says old Simon, etc. + +Yet the ashes may happily serve +To cure the scab of the nation, +Whene'er't has an itch to swerve +To rebellion by innovation. +A lanthorn here is to be bought, +The like was scarce ever gotten, +For many plots it has found out +Before they ever were thought on. +Says old Simon, etc. + +Will you buy the Rump's great saddle, +With which it jockey'd the nation? +And here is the bit and the bridle, +And curb of dissimulation; +And here's the trunk-hose of the Rump, +And their fair dissembling cloak; +And a Presbyterian jump, +With an Independent smock. +Says old Simon, etc. + +Will you buy a conscience oft turn'd, +Which served the High-Court of justice, +And stretch'd until England it mourn'd, +But hell will buy that if the worst is. +Here's Joan Cromwell's kitchen-stuff tub, +Wherein is the fat of the Rumpers, +With which old Noll's horns she did rub, +When he was got drunk with false bumbers. +Says old Simon, etc. + +Here's the purse of the public faith; +Here's the model of the Sequestration, +When the old wives upon their good troth +Lent thimbles to ruin the nation. +Here's Dick Cromwell's Protectorship, +And here are Lambert's commissions, +And here is Hugh Peters his scrip, +Cramm'd with tumultuous petitions. +Says old Simon, etc. + +And here are old Noll's brewing vessels, +And here are his dray and his flings; +Here are Hewson's (36) awl and his bristles, +With diverse other odd things: +And what is the price doth belong +To all these matters before ye? +I'll sell them all for an old song, +And so I do end my story. +Says old Simon, etc. + + + +Ballad: The Cavalier's Farewell To His Mistress, Being Called To +The Warrs + + + +The following song was extracted from the MS. Diary of the Rev. +John Adamson (afterwards Rector of Burton Coggles, Lincolnshire), +commencing in 1658; by a correspondent of Notes and Queries, First +Series, Jan. 18, 1851. + + +Fair Fidelia, tempt no more, +I may no more thy deity adore +Nor offer to thy shrine, +I serve one more divine +And farr more great than you: +I must goe, +Lest the foe +Gaine the cause and win the day. +Let's march bravely on, +Charge ym in the van, +Our cause God's is, +Though their odds is +Ten to one. + +Tempt no more, I may not yeeld +Altho' thine eyes +A kingdome may surprize: +Leave off thy wanton toiles, +The high-borne Prince of Wales +Is mounted in the field, +Where the royall gentry flocke. +Though alone +Nobly borne +Of a ne're decaying stocke. +Cavaliers, be bold, +Bravely keep your hold, +He that loyters +Is by traytors +Bought and sold. + +One kisse more, and then farewell; +Oh no, no more, +I prithee give me o'er, - +Why cloudest thou thy beames? +I see by these extreames +A woman's heaven or hell. +Pray the King may have his owne, +And the Queen +May be seen +With her babes on England's throne. +Rally up your men, +One shall vanquish ten, +Victory, we +Come to try thee +Once agen. + + + +Ballad: The Last News From France + + + +[From vol. iii. of the Roxburgh Ballads, in the British Museum.] + +The last news from France, being a true relation of the escape of +the King of Scots from Worcester to London and from London to +France, - who was conveyed away by a young gentleman in woman's +apparel; the King of Scots attending on this supposed gentlewoman +in manner of a serving-man. + +Tune, "When the King enjoys his own again." + + +All you that do desire to know +What is become of the King o' Scots, +I unto you will truly show +After the fight of Northern Rats. +'Twas I did convey +His Highness away, +And from all dangers set him free; - +In woman attire, +As reason did require, +And the King himself did wait on me. + +He of me a service did crave, +And oftentimes to me stood bare; +In woman's apparel he was most brave, +And on his chin he had no hare; +Wherever I came +My speeches did frame +So well my waiting-man to free, +The like was never known +I think by any I one, +For the King himself did wait on me. + +My waiting-man a jewel had, +Which I for want of money sold; +Because my fortune was so bad +We turn'd our jewel into gold. +A good shift indeed, +In time of our need, +Then glad was I and glad was he; +Our cause it did advance +Until we came to France, +And the King himself did wait on me. + +We walked through Westminster Hall, +Where law and justice doth take place +Our grief was great, our comfort small, +We lookt grim death all in the face. +I lookt round about, +And made no other doubt +But I and my man should taken be; +The people little knew, +As I may tell to you, +The King himself did wait on me. + +From thence we went to the fatal place +Where his father lost his life; +And then my man did weep apace, +And sorrow with him then was rife. +I bid him peace, +Let sorrow cease, +For fear that we should taken be. +The gallants in Whitehall +Did little know at all +That the King himself did wait on me. + +The King he was my serving-man, +And thus the plot we did contrive: +I went by the name of Mistress Anne +When we took water at Queenhythe. +A boat there we took, +And London forsook, +And now in France arrived are we. +We got away by stealth, +And the King is in good health, +And he shall no longer wait on me. + +The King of Denmark's dead, they say, +Then Charles is like to rule the land; +In France he will no longer stay, +As I do rightly understand. +That land is his due, +If they be but true, +And he with them do well agree: +I heard a bird sing +If he once be their king, +My man will then my master be. + +Now Heaven grant them better success +With their young king than England had; +Free from war and from distress, +Their fortune may not be so bad; +Since the case thus stands, +Let neighbouring lands +Lay down their arms and at quiet be; +But as for my part, +I am glad with all my heart +That my King must now my master be. + +And thus I have declared to you +By what means we escaped away; +Now we bid our cares adieu, +Though the King did lose the day. +To him I was true, +And that he well knew; +'Tis God that must his comfort be, +Else all our policy +Had been but foolery, +For the King no longer waits on me. + + + +Ballad: Song To The Figure Two + + + +From vol. ii. of the Roxburgh Ballads, in the British Museum. + +A merry new song wherein you may view +The drinking healths of a joviall crew, +To t' happie return of the figure of TWO. + +The figure of TWO is a palpable allusion to Charles II. Tune, +"Ragged, and torn, and true." + + +I have been a traveller long, +And seen the conditions of all; +I see how each other they wrong, +And the weakest still goes to the wall. +And here I'll begin to relate +The crosse condition of those +That hinder our happy fate, +And now are turned our foes. +Here's a health to the figure of TWO, +To the rest of the issue renown'd; +We'll bid all our sorrows adieu, +When the figure of TWO shall be crown'd. + +I crossed the ocean of late, +And there I did meet with a crosse, +But having a pretty estate, +I never lamented my losse: +I never lamented my harmes, +And yet I was wondrous sad; +I found all the land up in arms, +And I thought all the folke had bin mad. +Here's a health, etc. + +Kind countrymen, how fell ye out? +I left you all quiet and still; +But things are now brought so about, +You nothing but plunder and kill; +Some doe seem seemingly holy, +And would be reformers of men, +But wisdom doth laugh at their folly, +And sayes they'll be children agen, +Here's a health, etc. + +But woe to the figure of One! +King Solomon telleth us so; +But he shall be wronged by none +That hath two strings to his bow. +How I love this figure of TWO +Among all the figures that be, +I'll make it appear unto you +If that you will listen to me. +Here's a health, etc. + +Observe when the weather is cold +I wear a cap on my head, +But wish, if I may be so bold, +The figure of TWO in my bed. +TWO in my bed I do crave, +And that is myself and my mate; +But pray do not think I would have +TWO large great hornes on my pate. +Here's a health, etc. + +Since Nature hath given two hands, +But when they are foul I might scorn them; +Yet people thus much understands, +TWO fine white gloves will adorn them. +TWO feet for to bear up my body, +No more had the knight of the sun; +But people would think me a noddy +If two shoes I would not put on. +Here's a health, etc. + +The figure of TWO is a thing +That we cannot well live without, +No more than without a good king, +Though we be never so stout; +And thus we may well understand, +If ever our troubles should cease, +Two needful things in a land +Is a king and a justice of peace. +Here's a health, etc. + +And now for to draw to an end, +I wish a good happy conclusion, +The State would so much stand our friend, +To end this unhappy confusion; +The which might be done in a trice, +In giving of Caesar his due; +If we were so honest and wise +As to think of the figure of TWO. +Here's a health, etc. + +If any desire to know, +This riddle I now will unfold, +It is a man wrapped in woe, +Whose father is wrapped in mould: +So now to conclude my song, +I mention him so much the rather +Because he hath suffer'd some wrong, +And bears up the name of his father. +Here's a health, etc. + + + +Ballad: The Reformation + + + +Written in the year 1652, by Samuel Butler. From his Posthumous +Works. + + +Tell me not of Lords and laws, +Rules or reformation; +All that's done not worth two straws +To the welfare of the nation; +If men in power do rant it still, +And give no reason but their will +For all their domination; +Or if they do an act that's just, +'Tis not because they would, but must, +To gratify some party's lust. + +All our expense of blood and purse +Has yet produced no profit; +Men are still as bad or worse, +And will whate'er comes of it. +We've shuffled out and shuffled in +The person, but retain the sin, +To make our game the surer; +Yet spight of all our pains and skill, +The knaves all in the pack are still, +And ever were, and ever will, +Though something now demurer. + +And it can never be so, +Since knaves are still in fashion; +Men of souls so base and low, +Meer bigots of the nation; +Whose designs are power and wealth, +At which by rapine, power, and stealth, +Audaciously they vent're ye; +They lay their consciences aside, +And turn with every wind and tide, +Puff'd on by ignorance and pride, +And all to look like gentry. + +Crimes are not punish'd 'cause they're crimes, +But cause they're low and little: +Mean men for mean faults in these times +Make satisfaction to tittle; +While those in office and in power +Boldly the underlings devour, +Our cobweb laws can't hold 'em; +They sell for many a thousand crown +Things which were never yet their own, +And this is law and custom grown, +'Cause those do judge who sold 'em. + +Brothers still with brothers brawl, +And for trifles sue 'em; +For two pronouns that spoil all +Contentious MEUM and TUUM. +The wary lawyer buys and builds +While the client sells his fields +To sacrifice his fury; +And when he thinks t' obtain his right, +He's baffled off or beaten quite +By the judge's will, or lawyer's slight, +Or ignorance of the jury. + +See the tradesman how he thrives +With perpetual trouble: +How he cheats and how he strives, +His estate t' enlarge and double; +Extort, oppress, grind and encroach, +To be a squire and keep a coach, +And to be one o' th' quorum; +Who may with's brother-worships sit, +And judge without law, fear, or wit, +Poor petty thieves, that nothing get, +And yet are brought before 'em. + +And his way to get all this +Is mere dissimulation; +No factious lecture does he miss, +And 'scape no schism that's in fashion: +But with short hair and shining shoes, +He with two pens and note-book goes, +And winks and writes at random; +Thence with short meal and tedious grace, +In a loud tone and public place, +Sings wisdom's hymns, that trot and pace +As if Goliah scann'd 'em. + +But when Death begins his threats, +And his conscience struggles +To call to mind his former cheats, +Then at Heaven he turns and juggles: +And out of all's ill-gotten store +He gives a dribbling to the poor; +An hospital or school-house; +And the suborn'd priest for his hire +Quite frees him from th' infernal fire, +And places him in th' angel's quire: +Thus these Jack-puddings fool us! + +All he gets by's pains i' th' close, +Is, that he dy'd worth so much; +Which he on's doubtful seed bestows, +That neither care nor know much: +Then fortune's favourite, his heir, +Bred base and ignorant and bare, +Is blown up like a bubble: +Who wondering at's own sudden rise, +By pride, simplicity, and vice, +Falls to his sports, drink, drabs, and dice, +And make all fly like stubble. + +And the Church, the other twin, +Whose mad zeal enraged us, +Is not purified a pin +By all those broils in which th' engaged us: +We our wives turn'd out of doors, +And took in concubines and whores, +To make an alteration; +Our pulpitors are proud and bold, +They their own wills and factions hold, +And sell salvation still for gold, +And here's our REFORMATION! + +'Tis a madness then to make +Thriving our employment, +And lucre love for lucre's sake, +Since we've possession, not enjoyment: +Let the times run on their course, +For oppression makes them worse, +We ne'er shall better find 'em; +Let grandees wealth and power engross, +And honour, too, while we sit close, +And laugh and take our plenteous dose +Of sack, and never mind 'em. + + + +Ballad: Upon The General Pardon Passed By The Rump + + + +From a broadside in the King's Pamphlets, British Museum. After +Cromwell's victory at Worcester, he prevailed on the Parliament to +pass a general, or quasi-general, amnesty for all political +offences committed prior to that time. + + +Rejoice, rejoice, ye Cavaliers, +For here comes that dispels your fears; +A general pardon is now past, +What was long look'd for, comes at last. + +It pardons all that are undone; +The Pope ne'er granted such a one: +So long, so large, so full, so free, +Oh what a glorious State have we! + +Yet do not joy too much, my friends, +First see how well this pardon ends; +For though it hath a glorious face, +I fear there's in't but little grace. + +'Tis said the mountains once brought forth, - +And what brought they? a mouse, in troth; +Our States have done the like, I doubt, +In this their pardon now set out. + +We'll look it o'er, then, if you please, +And see wherein it brings us ease: +And first, it pardons words, I find, +Against our State - words are but wind. + +Hath any pray'd for th' King of late, +And wish'd confusion to our State? +And call'd them rebels? He may come in +And plead this pardon for that sin. + +Has any call'd King Charles that's dead +A martyr - he that lost his head? +And villains those that did the fact? +That man is pardon'd by this Act. + +Hath any said our Parliament +I such a one as God ne'er sent? +Or hath he writ, and put in print, +That he believes the devil's in't? + +Or hath he said there never were +Such tyrants anywhere as here? +Though this offence of his be high, +He's pardon'd for his blasphemy. + +You see how large this pardon is, +It pardons all our MERCURIES, (37) +And poets too, for you know they +Are poor, and have not aught to pay. + +For where there's money to be got, +I find this pardon pardons not; +Malignants that were rich before, +Shall not be pardon'd till they're poor. + +Hath any one been true to th' Crown, +And for that paid his money down, +By this new Act he shall be free, +And pardon'd for his loyalty. + +Who have their lands confiscate quite, +For not compounding when they might; +If that they know not how to dig, +This pardon gives them leave to beg. + +Before this Act came out in print, +We thought there had been comfort in't; +We drank some healths to the higher powers, +But now we've seen't they'd need drink ours. + +For by this Act it is thought fit +That no man shall have benefit, +Unless he first engage to be +A rebel to eternity. + +Thus, in this pardon it is clear +That nothing's here and nothing's there: +I think our States do mean to choke us +With this new Act of HOCUS POCUS. + +Well, since this Act's not worth a pin, +We'll pray our States to call it in, +For most men think it ought to be +Burnt by the hand of Gregory. + +Then, to conclude, here's little joy +For those that pray VIVE LE ROY! +But since they'll not forget our crimes, +We'll keep our mirth till better times. + + + +Ballad: An Old Song On Oliver's Court + + + +Written in the year 1654, by Samuel Butler. + + +He that would a new courtier be +And of the late coyn'd gentry; +A brother of the prick-eared crew, +Half a presbyter, half a Jew, +When he is dipp'd in Jordan's flood, +And wash'd his hands in royal blood, +Let him to our court repair, +Where all trades and religions are. + +If he can devoutly pray, +Feast upon a fasting day, +Be longer blessing a warm bit +Than the cook was dressing it; +With covenants and oaths dispense, +Betray his lord for forty pence, +Let him, etc. + +If he be one of the eating tribe, +Both a Pharisee and a Scribe, +And hath learn'd the snivelling tone +Of a flux'd devotion; +Cursing from his sweating tub +The Cavaliers to Beelzebub, +Let him, etc. + +Who sickler than the city ruff, +Can change his brewer's coat to buff, +His dray-cart to a coach, the beast +Into Flanders mares at least; +Nay, hath the art to murder kings, +Like David, only with his slings, +Let him, etc. + +If he can invert the word, +Turning his ploughshare to a sword, +His cassock to a coat of mail; +'Gainst bishops and the clergy rail; +Convert Paul's church into the mews; +Make a new colonel of old shoes, +Let him, etc. + +Who hath commission to convey +Both sexes to JAMAICA, +There to beget new babes of grace +On wenches hotter than the place, +Who carry in their tails a fire +Will rather scorch than quench desire, +Let him, etc. + + + +Ballad: The Parliament Routed, Or Here's A House To Be Let + + + +I hope that England, after many jarres, +Shall be at peace, and give no way to warres: +O Lord, protect the generall, that he +May be the agent of our unitie. + +Written upon the dissolution of the Long Parliament by Cromwell, on +the 20th April, 1653, and extracted from the King's Pamphlets, +British Museum. June 3rd, 1653. + +To the tune of "Lucina, or, Merrily and Cherrily." + + +Cheare up, kind countrymen, be not dismay'd, +True news I can tell ye concerning the nation; +Hot spirits are quench'd, the tempest is layd, +(And now we may hope for a good reformation). +The Parliament bold and the counsell of state +Doe wish them beyond sea, or else at Virginie; +For now all their orders are quite out of date, +Twelve Parliament men shall be sold for peny. + +Full twelve years and more these rooks they have sat, +To gull and to cozen all true-hearted people; +Our gold and our silver has made them so fat, +That they lookt more big and mighty than Paul's steeple. +The freedome of subject they much did pretend, +But since they bore sway we never had any; +For every member promoted self-end, +Twelve Parliament men are now sold for one peny. + +Their acts and their orders which they have contrived, +Was still in conclusion to multiply riches: +The Common-wealth sweetly by these men have thrived, +As Lancashire did with the juncto of witches. (38) +Oh! our freedome was chain'd to the Egyptian yoak, +As it hath been felt and endured by many, +Still making religion their author and cloak, +Twelve Parliament men shall be sold for a peny. + +Both citie and countrey are almost undone +By these caterpillars, which swarm'd in the nation; +Their imps and their goblins did up and downe run, +Excise-men, I meane, all knaves of a fashion: +For all the great treasure that dayly came in, +The souldier wants pay, 'tis well knowne by a many; +To cheat and to cozen they held it no sinne, +Twelve Parliament men shall be sold for a peny. + +The land and the livings which these men have had, +'Twould make one admire what use they've made of it, +With plate and with jewels they have bin well clad, +The souldier fared hard whilst they got the profit. +Our gold and our silver to Holland they sent, +But being found out, this is knowne by a many, +That no one would owne it for feare of a shent, +Twelve Parliament men are sold for a peny. + +'Tis judged by most people that they were the cause +Of England and Holland, their warring together, (39) +Both friends and dear lovers to break civill lawes, +And in cruell manner to kill one another. +What cared they how many did lose their dear lives, +So they by the bargain did get people's money, +Sitting secure like bees in their hives? +But twelve Parliament men are now sold for a peny. + + +THE SECOND PART + + +To the same tune. + +They voted, unvoted, as fancy did guide, +To passe away time, but increasing their treasure +(When Jack is on cock-horse hee'l galloping ride, +But falling at last, hee'l repent it at leisure). +The widow, the fatherlesse, gentry and poore, +The tradesman and citizen, with a great many, +Have suffer'd full dearly to heap up their store; +But twelve Parliament men shall be sold for a peny. + +These burdens and grievances England hath felt, +So long and so heavy, our hearts are e'en broken, +Our plate, gold and silver, to themselves they've dealt +(All this is too true, in good time be it spoken). +For a man to rise high and at last to fall low, +It is a discredit: this lot fals to many, +But 'tis no great matter these men to serve so, +Twelve Parliament men now are sold for a peny. + +The generall (40) perceiving their lustfull desire +To covet more treasure, being puft with ambition, +By their acts and their orders to set all on fire, +Pretending religion to rout superstition: +He bravely commanded the souldiers to goe +In the Parliament-house, in defiance of any; +To which they consented, and now you doe know +That twelve Parliament men may be sold for a peny. + +The souldiers undaunted laid hold on the mace, +And out of the chaire they removed the speaker: +The great ones was then in a pittifull case, +And Tavee cryd out, All her cold must forsake her. (41) +Thus they were routed, pluckt out by the eares, +The House was soone empty and rid of a many +Usurpers, that sate there this thirteen long yeares; +Twelve Parliament men may be sold for a peny. + +To the Tower of London away they were sent, +As they have sent others by them captivated; +Oh what will become of this old Parliament +And all their compeers, that were royally stated. +What they have deserved I wish they may have, +And 'tis the desire I know of a many; +For us to have freedome, oh that will be brave! +But twelve Parliament men may be sold for a peny. + +Let's pray for the generall and all his brave traine, +He may be an instrument for England's blessing, +Appointed in heaven to free us againe, - +For this is the way of our burdens redressing: +For England to be in glory once more, +It would satisfy, I know, a great many; +But ending I say, as I said before, +Twelve Parliament men now are sold for a peny. + + + +Ballad: A Christmas Song When The Rump Was First Dissolved + + + +From the King's Pamphlets, British Museum. The Rump Parliament, in +an excess of Puritanic acerbity, had abolished the observance of +Christmas, and forbidden the eating of puddings and pies, as +savouring of Popery. + +Tune - "I tell thee, Dick." + + +This Christmas time 'tis fit that we +Should feast, and sing, and merry be. +It is a time of mirth; +For never since the world began +More joyful news was brought to man +Than at our Saviour's birth. + +But such have been these times of late, +That holidays are out of date, +And holiness to boot; +For they that do despise and scorn +To keep the day that Christ was born, +Want holiness no doubt. + +That Parliament that took away +The observation of that day, +We know it was not free; +For if it had, such acts as those +Had ne'er been seen in verse or prose, +You may conclude with me. + +'Twas that Assembly did maintain +'Twas law to kill their sovereign, +Who by that law must die; +Though God's anointed ones are such, +Which subjects should not dare to touch, +Much less to crucify. + +'Twas that which turn'd our bishops out +Of house and home, both branch and root, +And gave no reason why; +And all our clergy did expel, +That would not do like that rebel - +This no man can deny. + +It was that Parliament that took +Out of our churches our SERVICE BOOK, +A book without compare; +And made God's house (to all our griefs), +That house of prayer, a den of thiefs' +Both here and everywhere. + +They had no head for many years, +Nor heart (I mean the House of Peers), +And yet it did not die; +Of these long since it was bereft, +And nothing but the tail was left, +You know as well as I. + +And in this tail was a tongue, +Lenthal (42) I mean, whose fame hath rung +In country and in city; +Not for his worth or eloquence, +But for a rebel to his prince, +And neither wise nor witty. + +This Speaker's words must needs be wind, +Since they proceeded from behind; +Besides, you way remember, +From thence no act could be discreet, +Nor could the sense o' the House be sweet +Where Atkins was a member. + +This tale's now done, the Speaker's dumb, +Thanks to the trumpet and the drum; +And now I hope to see +A Parliament that will restore +All things that were undone before, +That we may Christians be. + + + +Ballad: A Free Parliament Litany + + + +From the King's Pamphlets, British Museum. - (A. D. 1655.) To the +tune of "An Old Courtier of the Queen's." + +More ballads! - here's a spick and span new supplication, +By order of a Committee for the Reformation, +To be read in all churches and chapels of this nation, +Upon pain of slavery and sequestration. +From fools and knaves in our Parliament free, +LIBERA NOS, DOMINE. + +From those that ha' more religion and less conscience than their +fellows; +From a representative that's fearful and zealous; +From a starting jadish people that is troubled with the yellows, +And a priest that blows the coal (a crack in his bellows); +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From shepherds that lead their flocks into the briars, +And then fleece 'em; from vow-breakers and king-tryers; +Of Church and Crown lands, from both sellers and buyers; +From the children of him that is the father of liars; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From the doctrine and discipline of NOW AND ANON, +Preserve us and our wives from John T. and Saint John, +Like master like man, every way but one, - +The master has a large conscience, and the man has none; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From major-generals, army officers, and that phanatique crew; +From the parboil'd pimp Scot, and from Good-face the Jew; +From old Mildmay, that in Cheapside mistook his queu, +And from him that won't pledge - Give the devil his due; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From long-winded speeches, and not a wise word; +From a gospel ministry settled by the sword; +From the act of a Rump, that stinks when 'tis stirr'd; +From a knight of the post, and a cobbling lord; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From all the rich people that ha' made us poor; +From a Speaker that creeps to the House by a back-door; +From that badger, Robinson (that limps and bites sore); +And that dog in a doublet, Arthur - that will do so no more; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From a certain sly knave with a beastly name; +From a Parliament that's wild, and a people that's tame; +From Skippon, Titchbourne, Ireton, - and another of the same; +From a dung-hill cock, and a hen of the game; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From all those that sat in the High Court of Justice; +From usurpers that style themselves the people's trustees; +From an old Rump, in which neither profit nor gust is, +And from the recovery of that which now in the dust is; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From a backsliding saint that pretend t' acquiesce; +From crossing of proverbs (let 'um hang that confess); +From a sniveling cause, in a pontificall dress, +And two lawyers, with the devil and his dam in a mess; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From those that trouble the waters to mend the fishing, +And fight the Lord's battles under the devil's commission, +Such as eat up the nation, whilst the government's a-dishing; +And from a people when it should be doing, stands wishing; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From an everlasting mock-parliament - and from NONE; +From Strafford's old friends - Harry, Jack, and John; +From our solicitor's wolf-law deliver our King's son; +And from the resurrection of the Rump that is dead and gone; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From foreign invasion and commotions at home; +From our present distraction, and from work to come; +From the same hand again Smectymnus, or the bum, +And from taking Geneva in our way to Rome; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From a hundred thousand pound tax to keep knaves by the score +(But it is well given to these that turn'd those out of door); +From undoing ourselves in plaistering old sores; +He that set them a-work, let him pay their scores; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From saints and tender consciences in buff; +From Mounson in a foam, and Haslerig in a huff; +From both men and women that think they never have enough; +And from a fool's head that looks through a chain and a duff; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From those that would divide the gen'ral and the city; +From Harry Martin's girl, that was neither sweet nor pretty; +From a faction that has neither brain nor pity: +From the mercy of a phanatique committee; +From fools and knaves, etc. + +Preserve us, good Heaven, from entrusting those +That ha' much to get and little to lose; +That murther'd the father, and the son would depose +(Sure they can't be our friends that are their country's foes); +From fools and knaves, etc. + +From Bradshaw's presumption, and from Hoyle's despairs; +From rotten members, blind guides, preaching aldermen, and false +may'rs; +From long knives, long ears, long parliaments, and long pray'rs; +In mercy to this nation - Deliver us and our heirs; +From fools and knaves, etc. + + + +Ballad: The Mock Song + + + +By T. J. With a reply by Alex. Brome. - (A.D. 1657.) + + +Hold, hold, quaff no more, +But restore +If you can what you've lost by your drinking: +Three kingdoms and crowns, +With their cities and towns, +While the King and his progeny's sinking. +The studs in your cheeks have obscured his star, boys, +Your drinking miscarriages in the late war, boys, +Have brought his prerogative now to the war, boys. + +Throw, throw down the glass! +He's an ass +That extracts all his worth from Canary; +That valour will shrink +That's only good in drink; +'Twas the cup made the camp to miscarry. +You thought in the world there's no power could tame ye, +You tippled and whored till the foe overcame ye; +God's nigs and Ne'er stir, sirs, has vanquish'd God damn me. + +Fly, fly from the coast, +Or you're lost, +And the water will run where the drink went; +From hence you must slink, +If you have no chink, +'Tis the course of the royal delinquent; +You love to see beer-bowls turn'd over the thumb well, +You like three fair gamesters, four dice, and a drum well, +But you'd as lief see the devil as Fairfax or Cromwell. + +Drink, drink not the round, +You'll be drown'd +In the source of your sack and your sonnets; +Try once more your fate +For the King against the State, +And go barter your beavers for bonnets. +You see how they're charm'd by the King's enchanters, +And therefore pack hence to Virginia for planters, +For an act and two red-coats will rout all the ranters. + + +THE ANSWER + + +By Alex. Brome. + +Stay, stay, prate no more, +Lest thy brain, like thy purse, run the score, +Though thou strain'st it; +Those are traitors in grain +That of sack do complain, +And rail by its own power against it. +Those kingdoms and crowns which your poetry pities, +Are fall'n by the pride and hypocrisy of cities, +And not by those brains that love sack and good ditties; +The K. and his progeny had kept them from sinking, +Had they had no worse foes than the lads that love drinking, +We that tipple ha' no leisure for plotting or thinking. + +He is an ass +That doth throw down himself with a glass +Of Canary; +He that's quiet will think +Much the better of drink, +'Cause the cups made the camp to miscarry. +You whore while we tipple, and there, my friend, you lie, +Your sports did determine in the month of July; +There's less fraud in plain damme than your sly by my truly; +'Tis sack makes our bloods both purer and warmer, +We need not your priest or the feminine charmer, +For a bowl of Canary's a whole suit of armour. + +Hold, hold, not so fast, +Tipple on, for there is no such haste +To be going; +We drowning may fear, +But your end will be there +Where there is neither swimming nor rowing. +We were gamesters alike, and our stakes were both down, boys, +But Fortune did favour you, being her own, boys; +And who would not venture a cast for a crown, boys? +Since we wear the right colours, he the worst of our foes is +That goes to traduce, and fondly supposes +That Cromwell's an enemy to sack and red noses. + +Then, then, quaff it round, +No deceit in a brimmer is found; +Here's no swearing: +Beer and ale makes you prate +Of the Church and the State, +Wanting other discourse worth the hearing. + +This strumpet your muse is, to ballad or flatter, +Or rail, and your betters with froth to bespatter, +And your talk's all dismals and gunpowder matter; +But we, while old sack does divinely inspire us, +Are active to do what our rulers require us, +And attempt such exploits as the world shall admire us. + + + +Ballad: As Close As A Goose + + + +By Samuel Butler. - (A.D. 1657.) This ballad ridicules the tender +of the Crown of England to Oliver Cromwell by Alderman Pack, M.P. +for London. + + +As close as a goose +Sat the Parliament-house, +To hatch the royal gull; +After much fiddle-faddle +The egg proved addle, +And Oliver came forth NOLL. + +Yet old Queen Madge, (43) +Though things do not fadge, +Will serve to be queen of a May-pole; +Two Princes of Wales, (44) +For Whitsun-ales, +And her grace, Maid Marion Claypole. (45) + +In a robe of cow hide +Sat yeasty Pride, (46) +With his dagger and his sling; +He was the pertinenst peer +Of all that were there, +T' advise with such a king. + +A great philosopher +Had a goose for his lover +That follow'd him day and night: +If it be a true story, +Or but an allegory, +It may be both ways right. + +Strickland (47) and his son, +Both cast into one, +Were meant for a single baron; +But when they came to sit, +There was not wit +Enough in them both to serve for one. + +Wherefore 'twas thought good +To add Honeywood, +But when they came to trial +Each one proved a fool, +Yet three knaves in the whole, +And that made up a PAIR-ROYAL. + + + +Ballad: The Prisoners + + + +Written when O. C. attempted to be King. By Alex. Brome. + + +Come, a brimmer (my bullies), drink whole ones or nothing, +Now healths have been voted down; +'Tis sack that can heat us, we care not for clothing, +A gallon's as warm as a gown; +'Cause the Parliament sees +Nor the former nor these +Could engage us to drink their health, +They may vote that we shall +Drink no healths at all, +Not to King nor to Commonwealth, +So that now we must venture to drink 'em by stealth. + +But we've found out a way that's beyond all their thinking; +To keep up good fellowship still, +We'll drink their destruction that would destroy drinking, - +Let 'um vote THAT a health if they will. +Those men that did fight, +And did pray day and night +For the Parliament and its attendant, +Did make all that bustle +The King out to justle, +And bring in the Independent, +But now we all clearly see what was the end on't. + +Now their idols thrown down with their sooter-kin also, +About which they did make such a pother; +And tho' their contrivance did make one thing to fall so, +We have drank ourselves into another; +And now (my lads) we +May still Cavaliers be, +In spite of the Committee's frown; +We will drink and we'll sing, +And each health to our King +Shall be loyally drunk in the 'CROWN,' +Which shall be the standard in every town. + +Their politick would-be's do but show themselves asses +That other men's calling invade; +We only converse with pots and with glasses, +Let the rulers alone with their trade; +The Lyon of the Tower +There estates does devour, +Without showing law for't or reason; +Into prison we get +For the crime called debt, +Where our bodies and brains we do season, +And that is ne'er taken for murder or treason. + +Where our ditties still be, Give's more drink, give's more drink, +boys. +Let those that are frugal take care; +Our gaolers and we will live by our chink, boys, +While our creditors live by the air; +Here we live at our ease, +And get craft and grease, +'Till we've merrily spent all our store; +Then, as drink brought us in, +'Twill redeem us agen; +We got in because we were poor, +And swear ourselves out on the very same score. + + + +Ballad: The Protecting Brewer + + + +This was apparently written as a parody on the Brewer, in Pills to +purge Melancholy, 1682. The original was too complimentary to +Oliver Cromwell, asserted by the Royalists to have been a brewer in +early life, to suit the taste of the Cavaliers, and hence the +alteration made in it. Such compliments as the following must have +proceeded from a writer of the opposite party. + + +Some Christian kings began to quake, +And said With the brewer no quarrel we'll make, +We'll let him alone; as he brews let him bake; +Which nobody can deny. + +He had a strong and a very stout heart, +And thought to be made an Emperor for't, +* * * * * +Which nobody can deny. + + +A Brewer may be a burgess grave, +And carry the matter so fine and so brave, +That he the better may play the knave, +Which nobody can deny. + +A brewer may put on a Nabal face, +And march to the wars with such a grace +That he may get a captain's place; +Which nobody, etc. + +A brewer may speak so wondrous well +That he may rise (strange things to tell), +And so be made a colonel; +Which nobody, etc. + +A brewer may make his foes to flee, +And rise his fortunes, so that he +Lieutenant-general may be; +Which nobody, etc. + +A brewer may be all in all, +And raise his powers, both great and small, +That he may be a lord general; +Which nobody, etc. + +A brewer may be like a fox in a cub, +And teach a lecture out of a tub, +And give the wicked world a rub; +Which nobody, etc. + +A brewer, by's excise and rate, +Will promise his army he knows what, +And set upon the college-gate; +Which nobody, etc. + +Methinks I hear one say to me, +Pray why may not a brewer be +Lord Chancellor o' the University? +Which nobody, etc. + +A brewer may be as bold as Hector, +When as he had drank his cup o' Nectar, +And a brewer may be a Lord Protector; +Which nobody, etc. + +Now here remains the strangest thing, +How this brewer about his liquor did bring +To be an emperor or a king; +Which nobody, etc. + +A brewer may do what he will, +And rob the Church and State, to sell +His soul unto the devil in hell; +Which nobody, etc. + + + +Ballad: The Arraignment Of The Devil For Stealing Away President +Bradshaw + + + +John Bradshaw, who had presided over the court of justice which +condemned Charles I. to the scaffold, and who by his extreme +republican principles had rendered himself obnoxious to Cromwell, +began again to be distinguished in public affairs after the +Protector's death, and was elected President of the Council of +State. He did not live long to enjoy this honour, but died, +according to some authorities, on the 31st October, 1659. Chalmers +places his death on the 22nd of November in that year. + +To the tune of "Well-a-day, well-a-day." + + +If you'll hear news that's ill, +Gentlemen, gentlemen, +Against the devil, I will +Be the relator; +Arraigned he must be, +For that feloniously, +'Thout due solemnity, +He took a traitor. + +John Bradshaw was his name, +How it stinks! how it stinks! +Who'll make with blacker fame +Pilate unknown. +This worse than worse of things +Condemn'd the best of kings, +And, what more guilt yet brings, +Knew 'twas his own. + +Virtue in Charles did seem +Eagerly, eagerly, +And villainy in him +To vye for glory. +Majesty so compleat +And impudence so great +Till that time never met:- +But to my story. + +Accusers there will be, +Bitter ones, bitter ones, +More than one, two, or three, +All full of spight; +Hangman and tree so tall, +Bridge, tower, and city-wall, +Kite and crow, which were all +Robb'd of their right. + +But judges none are fit, +Shame it is, shame it is, +That twice seven years did sit +To give hemp-string dome; +The friend they would befriend, +That he might in the end +To them like favour lend, +In his own kingdome. + +Sword-men, it must be you, +Boldly to't, boldly to't, +Must give the diver his due; +Do it not faintly, +But as you raised by spell +Last Parliament from hell, +And it again did quell +Omnipotently. + +The charge they wisely frame +(On with it, on with it) +In that yet unknown name +Of supream power; +While six weeks hence by vote +Shall be or it shall not, +When Monk's to London got (48) +In a good hour. + +But twelve good men and true, +Caveliers, Caveliers, +He excepts against you; +Justice he fears. +From bar and pulpit hee +Craves such as do for fee +Serve all turns, for he'l be +Try'd by his peers. + +Satan, y' are guilty found +By your peers, by your peers, +And must die above ground! +Look for no pity; +Some of our ministry, +Whose spir'ts with yours comply, +As Owen, Caryl, Nye, (49) +For death shall fit 'ee. + +Dread judges, mine own limb +I but took, I but took, +I was forced without him +To use a crutch; +Some of the robe can tell +How to supply full well +His place here, but in hell +I had none such. + +Divel, you are an asse, +Plain it is, plain it is, +And weakly plead the case; +Your wits are lost. +Some lawyers will outdo't, +When shortly they come to't; +Your craft, our gold to boot, +They have ingross'd. + +Should all men take their right, +Well-a-day, well-a-day, +We were in a sad plight, +O' th' holy party! +Such practise hath a scent +Of kingly government, +Against it we are bent, +Out of home char'ty. + +But if I die, who am +King of hell, King of hell, +You will not quench its flame, +But find it worse: +Confused anarchy +Will a new torment be; +Ne'r did these kingdoms three +Feel such a curse. + +To our promotion, sir, +There as here, there as here, +Through some confused stir +Doth the high-road lie; +In hell we need not fear +Nor King nor Cavalier, +Who then shall dominere +But we the godly? + +Truth, then, sirs, which of old +Was my shame, was my shame, +Shall now to yours be told: +You caused his death; +The house being broken by +Yourselves (there's burglary), +Wrath enter'd forcibly, +And stopt his breath. + +Sir, as our president, +Taught by you, taught by you, +'Gainst the King away went +Most strange and new; +Charging him with the guilt +Of all the blond we spilt, +With swords up to the hilt, +So we'le serve you. + +For mercy then I call, +Good my lords, good my lords, +And traytors I'le leave all +Duly to end it; +Sir, sir, 'tis frivolous, +As well for you as us, +To beg for mercy thus, - +Our crimes transcend it. + +You must die out of hand, +Satanas, Satanas: +This our decree shall stand +Without controll; +And we for you will pray, +Because the Scriptures say, +When some men curse you, they +Curse their own soul. + +The fiend to Tiburn's gone, +There to die, there to die; +Black is the north, anon +Great storms will be; +Therefore together now +I leave him and th' gallow, - +So, newes-man, take 'em now, +Soon they'l take thee. + +Finis, Fustis, Funis. + + + +Ballad: A New Ballad To An Old Tune, - Tom Of Bedlam + + + +January 17th, 1659. - From the King's Ballads, British Museum. + + +Make room for an honest red-coat +(And that you'll say's a wonder), +The gun and the blade +Are the tools, and his trade +Is, for PAY, to KILL and PLUNDER. +Then away with the laws, +And the "Good old Cause;" +Ne'er talk of the Rump or the Charter; +'Tis the cash does the feat, +All the rest's but a cheat, +Without THAT there's no faith nor quarter. + +'Tis the mark of our coin "GOD WITH US," +And the grace of the Lord goes along with't. +When the GEORGES are flown +Then the Cause goes down, +For the Lord has departed from it. +Then away, etc. + +For Rome, or for Geneva, +For the table or the altar, +This spawn of a vote, +He cares not a groat - +For the PENCE he's your dog in a halter, +Then away, etc. + +Tho' the name of King or Bishop +To nostrils pure may be loathsome, +Yet many there are +That agree with the May'r, +That their lands are wondrous toothsome. +Then away, etc. + +When our masters are poor we leave 'em, +'Tis the Golden Calf we bow to; +We kill and we slay +Not for conscience, but pay; +Give us THAT, we'll fight for you too. +Then away, etc. + +'Twas THAT first turn'd the King out; +The Lords next; then the Commons: +'Twas that kept up Noll, +Till the Devil fetch'd his soul, +And then it set the RUMP on's. +Then away, etc. + +Drunken Dick was a lame Protector, +And Fleetwood a back-slider; +These we served as the rest, +But the City's the beast +That will never cast her rider. +Then away, etc. + +When the Mayor holds the stirrup +And the Shrieves cry, God save your honours; +Then 'tis but a jump +And up goes the Rump, +That will spur to the Devil upon us. +Then away, etc. + +And now for fling at your thimbles, +Your bodkins, rings, and whistles; +In truck for your toys +We'll fit you with boys +('Tis the doctrine of Hugh's EPISTLES). +Then away, etc. + +When your plate is gone, and your jewels, +You must be next entreated +To part with your bags, +And to strip you to rags, +And yet not think you're cheated. +Then away, etc. + +The truth is, the town deserves it, +'Tis a brainless, heartless monster: +At a club they may bawl, +Or declare at their hall, +And yet at a push not one stir. +Then away, etc. + +Sir Arthur vow'd he'll treat 'em +Far worse than the men of Chester; +He's bold now they're cow'd, +But he was nothing so loud +When he lay in the ditch at Lester. +Then away, etc. + +The Lord has left John Lambert, +And the spirit, Feak's anointed; +But why, O Lord, +Hast thou sheath'd thy sword? +Lo! thy saints are disappointed. +Then away, etc. + +Though Sir Henry be departed, +Sir John makes good the place now; +And to help out the work +Of the glorious Kirk, +Our brethren march apace too. +Then away, etc. + +Whilst divines and statesmen wrangle, +Let the Rump-ridden nation bite on't; +There are none but we +That are sure to go free, +For the soldier's still in the right on't. +Then away, etc. + +If our masters won't supply us +With money, food, and clothing, +Let the State look to't, +We'll find one that will do't, +Let him live - we will not damn. +Then away, etc. + + + +Ballad: Saint George And The Dragon, Anglice Mercurius Poeticus + + + +"The following ballad," says Mr Wright in the Political Ballads of +the Commonwealth, published for the Percy Society, "was written on +the occasion of the overthrow of the Rump by Monck. He arrived in +London on the third of February, and professed himself a determined +supporter of the party then uppermost. On the ninth and tenth he +executed their orders against the city; but suddenly on the +eleventh he joined the city and the Presbyterian party, and +demanded the readmission of the members who were secluded formerly +from the Long Parliament. This measure put an end to the reign of +the Rump, and immediately afterwards the Parliament dissolved +itself, and a new one was called. - (February 28th, 1659.)" - All +the notes to this Ballad are from the pen of Mr Wright. + +To the tune of "The Old Courtier of the Queen's," etc. + + +News! news! here's the occurrences and a new Mercurius, +A dialogue betwixt Haselrigg the baffled and Arthur the furious; +With Ireton's (50) readings upon legitimate and spurious, +Proving that a saint may be the son of a whore, for the +satisfaction of the curious. +From a Rump insatiate as the sea, +Libera nos, Domine. + +Here's the true reason of the citie's infatuation, +Ireton has made it drunk with the cup of abomination; +That is, the cup of the whore, after the Geneva Interpretation, +Which with the juyce of Titchburn's grapes (51) must needs cause +intoxication. +From a Rump, etc. + +Here's the Whipper whipt by a friend to George, that whipp'd Jack, +(52) that whipp'd the breech, +That whipp'd the nation as long as it could stand over it - after +which +It was itself re-jerk'd by the sage author of this speech: +"Methinks a Rump should go as well with a Scotch spur as with a +switch." +From a Rump, etc. + +This Rump hath many a rotten and unruly member; +"Give the generall the oath!" cries one (but his conscience being a +little tender); +"I'll abjure you with a pestilence!" quoth George, "and make you +remember +The 'leaventh of February (53) longer than the fifth of November!" +From a Rump, etc. + +With that, Monk leaves (in Rump assembled) the three estates, +But oh! how the citizens hugg'd him for breaking down their gates, +For tearing up their posts and chaynes, and for clapping up their +mates (54) +(When they saw that he brought them plasters for their broken +pates). +From a Rump, etc. + +In truth this ruffle put the town in great disorder, +Some knaves (in office) smiled, expecting 'twould go furder; +But at the last, "My life on't! George is no Rumper," said the +Recorder, +"For there never was either honest man or monk of that order." +From a Rump, etc. + +And so it proved; for, "Gentlemen," says the general, "I'll make +you amends; +Our greeting was a little untoward, but we'll part friends; +A little time shall show you which way my design tends, +And that, besides the good of Church and State, I have no other +ends." +From a Rump, etc. + +His Excellence had no sooner pass'd this declaration and promise, +But in steps Secretary Scot, the Rump's man Thomas, +With Luke, their lame evangelist (the Devil keep 'um from us!) (55) +To shew Monk what precious members of Church and State the Bumm +has. +From a Rump, etc. + +And now comes the supplication of the members under the rod: +"Nay, my Lord!" cryes the brewer's clerk; "good, my Lord, for the +love of God! +Consider yourself, us, and this poor nation, and that tyrant +abroad; +Don't leave us:" - but George gave him a shrugg instead of a nodd. +From a Rump, etc. + +This mortal silence was followed with a most hideous noyse, +Of free Parliament bells and Rump-confounding boyes, +Crying, "Cut the rogues! singe their tayles!" when, with a low +voyce, +"Fire and sword! by this light," cryes Tom, "Lets look to our +toyes!" +From a Rump, etc. + +Never were wretched members in so sad a plight; +Some were broyl'd, some toasted, others burnt outright; (56) +Nay against Rumps so pittylesse was their rage and spite, +That not a citizen would kisse his wife that night. +From a Rump, etc. + +By this time death and hell appear'd in the ghastly looks +Of Scot and Robinson (those legislative rooks); +And it must needs put the Rump most damnably off the hooks +To see that when God has sent meat the Devil should send cooks. +From a Rump, etc. + +But Providence, their old friend, brought these saints off at last, +And through the pikes and the flames undismember'd they past, +Although (God wet) with many struglings and much hast, - +For, members, or no members, was but a measuring cast. +From a Rump, etc. + +Being come to Whitehall, there's the dismal mone, +"Let Monk be damn'd!" cries Arthur in a terrible tone (57) - +"That traytor, and those cuckoldy rogues that set him on!" +(But tho' the knight spits blood, 'tis observed that he draws +none.) +From a Rump, etc. + +"The plague bawle you!" cries Harry Martin, "you have brought us to +this condition, (58) +You must be canting and be plagued, with your Barebones petition, +(59) +And take in that bull-headed, splay-footed member of the +circumcision, +That bacon-faced Jew, Corbet, (60) that son of perdition!" +From a Rump, etc. + +Then in steps driv'ling Mounson to take up the squabble, +That lord which first taught the use of the woodden dagger and +ladle: (61) +He that out-does Jack Pudding (62) at a custard or a caudle, +And were the best foole in Europe but that he wants a bauble. +From a Rump, etc. + +More was said to little purpose, - the next news is, a declaration +From the Rump, for a free state according to the covenant of the +nation, +And a free Parliament under oath and qualification, +Where none shall be elect but members of reprobation. +From a Rump, &c. + +Here's the tail firk'd, a piece acted lately with great applause, +With a plea for the prerogative breech and the Good old Cause, +Proving that Rumps and members are antienter than laws, +And that a bumme divided is never the worse for the flawes. +From a Rump, etc. + +But all things have their period and fate, +An Act of Parliament dissolves a Rump of state, +Members grow weak, and tayles themselves run out of date, +And yet thou shalt not dye (dear breech), thy fame I'll celebrate. +From a Rump, etc. + +Here lies a pack of saints that did their souls and country sell +For dirt, the Devil was their good lord, him they served well; +By his advice they stood and acted, and by his president they fell +(Like Lucifer), making but one step betwixt heaven and hell. +From a Rump insatiate as the sea +Liberasti nos, Domine. + + + +Ballad: The Second Part Of St George For England + + + +To the tune of "To drive the cold winter away." (March 7, 1659.) + + +Now the Rump is confounded +There's an end of the Roundhead, +Who hath been such a bane to our nation; +He hath now play'd his part, +And's gone out like a f-, +Together with his reformation; +For by his good favour +He hath left a bad savour; +But's no matter, we'll trust him no more. +Kings and queens may appear +Once again in our sphere, +Now the knaves are turn'd out of door, +And drive the cold winter away. + +Scot, Nevil, and Vane, +With the rest of that train, +Are into Oceana (63) fled; +Sir Arthur the brave, +That's as arrant a knave, +Has Harrington's Rota in's head; (64) +But hee's now full of cares +For his foals and his mares, +As when he was routed before; +But I think he despairs, +By his arms or his prayers, +To set up the Rump any more, +And drive the cold winter away. + +I should never have thought +That a monk could have wrought +Such a reformation so soon; +That House which of late +Was the jakes of our state +Will ere long be a house of renown. +How good wits did jump +In abusing the Rump, +Whilst the House was prest by the rabble; +But our Hercules, Monk, +Though it grievously stunk, +Now hath cleansed that Augean stable, +And drive the cold winter away. + +And now Mr Prynne (65) +With the rest may come in, +And take their places again; +For the House is made sweet +For those members to meet, +Though part of the Rump yet remain; +Nor need they to fear, +Though his breeches be there, +Which were wrong'd both behind and before; +For he saith 'twas a chance, +And forgive him this once, +And he swears he will do so no more, +And drive the cold winter away. + +'Tis true there are some +Who are still for the Bum; +Such tares will grow up with the wheat; +And there they will be, till a Parliament come +That can give them a total defeat. +But yet I am told +That the Rumpers do hold +That the saints may swim with the tyde; +Nor can it be treason, +But Scripture and reason, +Still to close with the stronger side, +And drive the cold winter away. + +Those lawyers o' th' House - +As Baron Wild-goose, (66) +With Treason Hill, Whitlock, and Say - +Were the bane of our laws +And our Good old Cause, +And 'twere well if such were away. +Some more there are to blame, +Whom I care not to name, +That are men of the very same ranks; +'Mongst whom there is one, +That to Devil Barebone +For his ugly petition gave thanks, +And drive the cold winter away. + +But I hope by this time +He'll confess 'twas a crime +To abet such a damnable crew; +Whose petition was drawn +By Alcoran Vane, +Or else by Corbet the Jew. (67) +By it you may know +What the Rump meant to do, +And what a religion to frame; +So 'twas time for St George +That Rump to disgorge, +And to send it from whence it first came; +Then drive the cold winter away. + + + +Ballad: A New-Year's Gift For The Rump + + + +(January 1659-60.) - From a broadside, vol. xv. in the King's +Pamphlets. + +"The condition of the State was thus: viz. the Rump, after being +disturbed by my Lord Lambert, was lately returned to sit again. +The officers of the army all forced to yield. Lawson lies still in +the river, and Monk is with his army in Scotland. Only my Lord +Lambert is not yet come in to the Parliament, nor is it expected +that he will without being forced to it. The new Common Council of +the city do speak very high; and had sent to Monk their sword- +bearer to acquaint him with their desires for a free and full +Parliament, which is at present the desires, and the hopes, and the +expectations of all. Twenty-two of the old secluded members having +been at the House-door the last week to demand entrance, but it was +denied them; and it is believed that neither they nor the people +will be satisfied till the House be filled." Pepys' Diary, +January, 1660. + +You may have heard of the politique snout, +Or a tale of a tub with the bottom out, +But scarce of a Parliament in a dirty clout, +Which no body can deny. + +'Twas Atkins (68) first served this Rump in with mustard - +The sauce was a compound of courage and custard; +Sir Vane bless'd the creature, Noll snuffled and bluster'd, +Which no body can deny. + +The right was as then in old Oliver's nose; +But when the Devil of that did dispose, +It descended from thence to the Rump in the close, +Which no body can deny. + +Nor is it likely there to stay long, +The retentive faculties being gone, +The juggle is stale, and money there's none, +Which no body can deny. + +The secluded members made a trial +To enter, but them the Rump did defy all +By the ordinance of self-denial, +Which no body can deny. + +Our politique doctors do us teach +That a blood-sucking red-coat's as good as a leech +To relieve the head, if applied to the breech, +Which no body can deny. + +But never was such a worm as Vane; +When the State scour'd last, it voided him then, +Yet now he's crept into the Rump again, +Which no body can deny. + +Ludlow's f- was a prophetique trump (69) +(There never was anything so jump), +'Twas the very type of a vote of this Rump, +Which no body can deny. + +They say 'tis good luck when a body rises +With the rump upward, but he that advises +To live in that posture is none of the wisest, +Which no body can deny. + +The reason is worse, though the rime be untoward, +When things proceed with the wrong end forward; +But they say there's sad news to the Rump from the Nor'ward; (70) +Which no body can deny. + +'Tis a wonderfull thing, the strength of that part; +At a blast it will take you a team from a cart, +And blow a man's head away with a f-, +Which no body can deny. + +When our brains are sunck below the middle, +And our consciences steer'd by the hey-down-diddle, +Then things will go round without a fiddle, +Which no body can deny. + +You may order the city with hand-granado, +Or the generall with a bastonado, - +But no way for a Rump like a carbonado, +Which no body can deny. + +To make us as famous in council as wars, +Here's Lenthal a speaker for mine - +And Fleetwood is a man of Mars, +Which no body can deny. + +'Tis pitty that Nedham's (71) fall'n into disgrace, +For he orders a bum with a marvellous grace, +And ought to attend the Rump by his place, +Which no body can deny. + +Yet this in spight of all disasters, +Although he hath broken the heads of his masters, +'Tis still his profession to give 'em all plasters, +Which no body can deny. + +The Rump's an old story, if well understood; +'Tis a thing dress'd up in a Parliament's hood, +And like 't, but the tayl stands where the head should, +Which no body can deny. + +'Twould make a man scratch where it does not itch, +To see forty fools' heads in one politique breech, +And that, hugging the nation, as the devil did the witch; +Which no body can deny. + +From rotten members preserve our wives! +From the mercy of a Rump, our estates and our lives! +For they must needs go whom the Devil drives, +Which no body can deny. + + + +Ballad: A Proper New Ballad On The Old Parliament; Or, The Second +Part Of Knave Out Of Doors + + + +To the tune of + +"Hei ho, my honey, my heart shall never rue, +Four-and-twenty now for your mony, and yet a hard penny-worth too." + +(Dec. 11th, 1659.) - From the King's Pamphlets, British Museum. + +"The events which gave occasion to the following ballad," says Mr +T. Wright in his Political Ballads, published for the Percy +Society, "may be summed up in a few words. After the death of +Cromwell, his son Richard was without opposition raised to the +Protectorate; but his weak and easy character gave an opening to +the intrigues of the Royalists, and the factious movement of the +Republican party. Fleetwood, who had been named commander-in-chief +of the army under the Protector, plotted to gain the chief power in +the State, and was joined by Lambert, Desborough, and others. The +Republicans were strengthened by the return of Vane, Ludlow, and +Bradshaw, to the Parliament called by the new Protector. Lambert, +the Protector's brother-in-law, was the ostensible head of a party, +and seems to have aimed at obtaining the power which had been held +by Oliver. They formed a council of officers, who met at +Wallingford House; and on the 20th April, 1659, having gained the +upper hand, and having obtained the dissolution of the Parliament, +they determined to restore the old Long Parliament, which they said +had only been interrupted, and not legally dissolved, and to set +aside the Protector, who soon afterwards resigned. On the 21st +April, Lenthall, the old Speaker, with as many members of the Long +Parliament as could be brought together, met in the House, and +opened their session. The Parliament thus formed, as being the +fag-end of the old Long Parliament, obtained the name of the Rump +Parliament. Lambert's hopes and aims were raised by his success +against Sir George Booth in the August following, and jealousies +soon arose between his party in the army and the Rump. The +Parliament would have dismissed him, and the chief officers in the +cabal with him, but Lambert with the army in October hindered their +free meeting, and took the management of the government into the +hands of a council of officers, whom they called the Committee of +Safety. Towards the latter end of the year, the tide began to be +changed in favour of the Parliament, by the declaration of Monk in +Scotland, Henry Cromwell with the army in Ireland, and Hazelrigge +and the officers at Portsmouth, in favour of the freedom of the +Parliament. This ballad was written at the period when Lambert's +party was uppermost." + +The tune of "Hei ho, my honey," may be found in Playford's edition +of "The English Dancing Master," printed in 1686, but in no earlier +edition of the same work. + + +Good-morrow, my neighbours all, what news is this I heard tell +As I past through Westminster-hall by the House that's neck to +hell? +They told John Lambert (72) was there with his bears, and deeply he +swore +(As Cromwell had done before) those vermin should sit there no +more. +Sing hi ho, Wil. Lenthall, (73) who shall our general be? +For the House to the Devil is sent all, and follow, good faith, mun +ye! +Sing hi ho, my honey, my heart shall never rue, +Here's all pickt ware for the money, and yet a hard pennyworth too. + +Then, Muse, strike up a sonnet, come, piper, and play us a spring, +For now I think upon it, these R's turn'd out their King; +But now is come about, that once again they must turn out, +And not without justice and reason, that every one home to his +prison. +Sing hi ho, Harry Martin, (74) a burgess of the bench, +There's nothing here is certain, you must back and leave your +wench. +Sing, hi ho, etc. + +He there with the buffle head is called lord and of the same House, +Who (as I have heard it said) was chastised by his ladye spouse; +Because he ran at sheep, she and her maid gave him the whip, +And beat his head so addle, you'd think he had a knock in the +cradle. +Sing hi ho, Lord Munson, (75) you ha' got a park of the King's; +One day you'l hang like a hounson, for this and other things, +Sing hi, ho, etc. + +It was by their master's orders at first together they met, +Whom piously they did murder, and since by their own they did set. +The cause of this disaster is 'cause they were false to their +master; +Nor can they their gens-d'armes blame for serving them the same. +Sing hi ho, Sir Arthur, (76) no more in the House you shall prate; +For all you kept such a quarter, (77) you are out of the councell +of state. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Old Noll once gave them a purge (forgetting OCCIDISTI), +(The furies be his scourge!) so of the cure must he; +And yet the drug he well knew it, for he gave it to Dr Huit; (78) +Had he given it them, he had done it, and they had not turn'd out +his son yet; +Sing hi ho, brave Dick, Lenthall, and Lady Joane, +Who did against lovalty kick is now for a new-year's gift gone. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +For had Old Noll been alive, he had pull'd them out by the ears, +Or else had fired their hive, and kickt them down the staires; +Because they were so bold to vex his righteous soul, +When he so deeply had swore that there they should never sit more. +But hi ho, Noll's dead, and stunk long since above ground, +Though lapt in spices and lead that cost us many a pound. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Indeed, brother burgess, your ling did never stink half so bad, +Nor did your habberdin when it no pease-straw had; +Ye both were chose together, 'cause ye wore stuff cloaks in hard +weather, +And Cambridge needs would have a burgess fool and knave. +Sing hi ho, John Lowry, (79) concerning habberdin, +No member spake before ye, yet you ne're spoke againe. +Sing hi, ho, etc. + +Ned Prideaux (80) he went post to tell the Protector the news, +That Fleetwood ruld the rost, having tane off Dicke's shoes. +And that he did believe, Lambert would him deceive +As he his brother had gull'd, and Cromwell Fair fax bull'd. +Sing hi ho, the attorney was still at your command; +In flames together burn ye, still dancing hand in hand! +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Who's that would hide his face, and his neck from the collar pull? +He must appear in this place, if his cap be made of wool. +Who is it? with a vengeance! it is the good Lord St Johns, (81) +Who made God's house to fall, to build his own withall. +Sing hi ho, who comes there? who 'tis I must not say; +But by his dark lanthorn, I sweare he's as good in the night as +day. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Edge, brethren, room for one that looks as big as the best; +'Tis pity to leave him alone, for he is as good as the rest; +No picklock of the laws, he builds among the daws, +If you ha' any more kings to murder, for a President look no +further. +Sing hi ho, John Bradshaw, in blood none further engages; +The Devil from whom he had's law, will shortly pay him his wages. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Next, Peagoose Wild, (82) come in to show your weesle face, +And tell us Burley's sin, whose blood bought you your place; +When loyalty was a crime, he lived in a dangerous time, +Was forced to pay his neck to make you baron of the cheque. +Sing hi ho, Jack Straw, we'll put it in the margent, +'Twas not for justice or law that you were made a sergeant. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Noll served not Satan faster, nor with him did better accord; +For he was my good master, and the Devil was his good lord. +Both Slingsby, Gerard, and Hewet, (83) were sure enough to go to +it, +According to his intent, that chose me President. +Sing hi ho, Lord Lisle, (84) sure law had got a wrench, +And where was justice the while, when you sate on the bench. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Next comes the good Lord Keble, of the Triumvirate, +Of the seal in the law but feeble, though on the bench he sate; +For when one puts him a case, I wish him out of the place, +And, if it were not a sin, an able lawyer in. +Sing, give the seal about, I'de have it so the rather, +Because we might get out the knave, my lord, my father. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Pull out the other three, it is Nathaniel Fines (85) +(Who Bristol lost for fear), we'll not leave him behind's; +'Tis a chip of that good old block, who to loyalty gave the first +knock, +Then stole away to Lundey, whence the foul fiend fetches him one +day. +Sing hi ho, canting Fines, you and the rest to mend 'um, +Would ye were served in your kinds with an ENSE RESCIDENDUM. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +He that comes down-stairs, is Lord Chief Justice Glin; (86) +If no man for him cares, he cares as little again: +The reason too I know't, he helpt cut Strafford's throat, +And take away his life, though with a cleaner knife. +Sing hi ho, Britain bold, straight to the bar you get, +Where it is not so cold as where your justice set. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +He that will next come in, was long of the Council of State, +Though hardly a hair on his chin when first in the council he sate; +He was sometime in Italy, and learned their fashions prettily, +Then came back to's own nation, to help up reformation. +Sing hi ho, Harry Nevil, (87) I prythee be not too rash +With atheism to court the Divel, you're too bold to be his bardash. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +He there with ingratitude blackt is one Cornelius Holland, (88) +Who, but for the King's house, lackt wherewith to appease his +colon; +The case is well amended since that time, as I think, +When at court gate he tended with a little stick and a short link. +Sing hi ho, Cornelius, your zeal cannot delude us; +The reason pray now tell ye us why thus you play'd the Judas. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +At first he was a grocer who now we Major call, +Although you would think no, Sir, if you saw him in Whitehall, +Where he has great command, and looks for cap in hand, +And if our eggs be not addle, shall be of the next new moddel. +Sing hi ho, Mr Salloway, (89) the Lord in heaven doth know +When that from hence you shall away, where to the Devil you'l go. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Little Hill, (90) since set in the House, is to a mountain grown; +Not that which brought forth the mouse, but thousands the year of +his own. +The purchase that I mean, where else but at Taunton Dean; +Five thousand pounds per annum, a sum not known to his grannam. +Sing hi, the Good old Cause, (91) 'tis old enough not true +You got more by that then the laws, so a good old cause to you. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Master Cecil, (92) pray come behind, because on your own accord +The other House you declined, you shall be no longer a lord; +The reason, as I guess, you silently did confess, +Such lords deserved ill the other House to fill. +Sing hi ho, Mr Cecil, your honour now is gone; +Such lords are not worth a whistle, we have made better lords of +our own. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Luke Robinson (93) shall go before ye, that snarling northern tyke; +Be sure he'll not adore ye, for honour he doth not like; +He cannot honour inherit, and he knows he can never merit, +And therefore he cannot bear it that any one else should wear it. +Sing hi ho, envious lown, you're of the beagle's kind, +Who always bark'd at the moon, because in the dark it shined. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +'Tis this that vengeance rouses, that, while you make long prayers, +You eat up widows' houses, and drink the orphan's tears; +Long time you kept a great noise, of God and the Good old Cause; +But if God to you be so kind, then I'me of the Indian's mind. +Sing hi ho, Sir Harry, (94) we see, by your demeanour, +If longer here you tarry, you'll be Sir Harry Vane, Senior. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Now if your zeal do warme ye, pray loud for fairer weather; +Swear to live and die with the army, for these birds are flown +together; +The House is turn'd out a doe, (and I think it was no sin, too); +If we take them there any more, we'll throw the House out of the +window. +Sing hi ho, Tom Scot, (95) you lent the Devil your hand; +I wonder he helpt you not, but suffred you t' be trapand. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +They're once again conduced, and we freed from the evil +To which we long were used; God blesse us next from the Devil! +If they had not been outed the array had been routed, +And then this rotten Rump had sat until the last trump. +But, hi ho, Lambert's here, the Protector's instrument bore, +And many there be who swear that he will do it no more. +Sing hi ho, etc. + +Come here, then, honest Peters, (96) say grace for the second +course, +So long as these your betters must patience have upon force, +Long time he kept a great noise with God and the Good old Cause, +But if God own such as these, then where's the Devil's fees? +Sing hi ho, Hugo, I hear thou art not dead; +Where now to the Devil will you go, your patrons being fled? +Sing hi ho, my honey, my heart shall never rue, +Four-and-twenty now for a penny, and into the bargain Hugh. + + + +Ballad: The Tale Of The Cobbler And The Vicar Of Bray + + + +Rara est concordia fratrum. Ovid. + +By Samuel Butler. + +The "Sir Samuel" of this Ballad is the same person - Sir Samuel +Luke of Bedfordshire - who is supposed to have been the unconscious +model of the portrait which is drawn so much more fully in the +inimitable Hudibras. Ralph is also the well-known Squire in the +same poem. The Ballad, though published in Butler's "Posthumous +Works," 1724, was rejected by Thyer in the edition of 1784, and is +not included in the "Genuine Remains," published from the original +manuscripts, formerly in the possession of William Longueville, +Esq. If not by Butler, it is a successful imitation of his style, +and abounds in phrases of sturdy colloquial English, and is of a +date long anterior to the popular song, "The Vicar of Bray." + + +In Bedfordshire there dwelt a knight, +Sir Samuel by name, +Who by his feats in civil broils +Obtain'd a mighty fame. + +Nor was he much less wise and stout, +But fit in both respects +To humble sturdy Cavaliers, +And to support the sects. + +This worthy knight was one that swore +He would not cut his beard +Till this ungodly nation was +From kings and bishops clear'd: + +Which holy vow he firmly kept, +And most devoutly wore +A grizly meteor on his face +Till they were both no more. + +His worship was, in short, a man +Of such exceeding worth, +No pen or pencil can describe, +Or rhyming bard set forth. + +Many and mighty things he did +Both sober and in liquor, - +Witness the mortal fray between +The Cobbler and the Vicar; + +Which by his wisdom and his power +He wisely did prevent, +And both the combatants at once +In wooden durance pent. + +The manner how these two fell out +And quarrell'd in their ale, +I shall attempt at large to show +In the succeeding tale. + +A strolling cobbler, who was wont +To trudge from town to town, +Happen'd upon his walk to meet +A vicar in his gown. + +And as they forward jogg'd along, +The vicar, growing hot, +First asked the cobbler if he knew +Where they might take a pot? + +Yes, marry that I do, quoth he; +Here is a house hard by, +That far exceeds all Bedfordshire +For ale and landlady. + +Thither let's go, the vicar said; +And when they thither came, +He liked the liquor wondrous well, +But better far the dame. + +And she, who, like a cunning jilt, +Knew how to please her guest, +Used all her little tricks and arts +To entertain the priest. + +The cobbler too, who quickly saw +The landlady's design, +Did all that in his power was +To manage the divine. + +With smutty jests and merry songs +They charm'd the vicar so, +That he determined for that night +No further he would go. + +And being fixt, the cobbler thought +'Twas proper to go try +If he could get a job or two +His charges to supply. + +So going out into the street, +He bawls with all his might, - +If any of you tread awry +I'm here to set you right. + +I can repair your leaky boots, +And underlay your soles; +Backsliders, I can underprop +And patch up all your holes. + +The vicar, who unluckily +The cobbler's outcry heard, +From off the bench on which he sat +With mighty fury rear'd. + +Quoth he, What priest, what holy priest +Can hear this bawling slave, +But must, in justice to his coat, +Chastise the saucy knave? + +What has this wretch to do with souls, +Or with backsliders either, +Whose business only is his awls, +His lasts, his thread, and leather? + +I lose my patience to be made +This strolling varlet's sport; +Nor could I think this saucy rogue +Could serve me in such sort. + +The cobbler, who had no design +The vicar to displease, +Unluckily repeats again, - +I'm come your soals to ease: + +The inward and the outward too +I can repair and mend; +And all that my assistance want, +I'll use them like a friend. + +The country folk no sooner heard +The honest cobbler's tongue, +But from the village far and near +They round about him throng. + +Some bring their boots, and some their shoes, +And some their buskins bring: +The cobbler sits him down to work, +And then begins to sing. + +Death often at the cobbler's stall +Was wont to make a stand, +But found the cobbler singing still, +And on the mending hand; + +Until at length he met old Time, +And then they both together +Quite tear the cobbler's aged sole +From off the upper leather. + +Even so a while I may old shoes +By care and art maintain, +But when the leather's rotten grown +All art and care is vain. + +And thus the cobbler stitched and sung, +Not thinking any harm; +Till out the angry vicar came +With ale and passion warm. + +Dost thou not know, vile slave! quoth he, +How impious 'tis to jest +With sacred things, and to profane +The office of a priest? + +How dar'st thou, most audacious wretch! +Those vile expressions use, +Which make the souls of men as cheap +As soals of boots and shoes? + +Such reprobates as you betray +Our character and gown, +And would, if you had once the power, +The Church itself pull down. + +The cobbler, not aware that he +Had done or said amiss, +Reply'd, I do not understand +What you can mean by this. + +Tho' I but a poor cobbler be, +And stroll about for bread, +None better loves the Church than I +That ever wore a head. + +But since you are so good at names, +And make so loud a pother, +I'll tell you plainly I'm afraid +You're but some cobbling brother. + +Come, vicar, tho' you talk so big, +Our trades are near akin; +I patch and cobble outward soals +As you do those within. + +And I'll appeal to any man +That understands the nation, +If I han't done more good than you +In my respective station. + +Old leather, I must needs confess, +I've sometimes used as new, +And often pared the soal so near +That I have spoil'd the shoe. + +You vicars, by a different way, +Have done the very same; +For you have pared your doctrines so +You made religion lame. + +Your principles you've quite disown'd, +And old ones changed for new, +That no man can distinguish right +Which are the false or true. + +I dare be bold, you're one of those +Have took the Covenant; +With Cavaliers are Cavalier, +And with the saints a saint. + +The vicar at this sharp rebuke +Begins to storm and swear; +Quoth he, Thou vile apostate wretch! +Dost thou with me compare? + +I that have care of many souls, +And power to damn or save, +Dar'st thou thyself compare with me, +Thou vile, ungodly knave! + +I wish I had thee somewhere else, +I'd quickly make thee know +What 'tis to make comparisons, +And to revile me so. + +Thou art an enemy to the State, +Some priest in masquerade, +That, to promote the Pope's designs, +Has learnt the cobbling trade: + +Or else some spy to Cavaliers, +And art by them sent out +To carry false intelligence, +And scatter lies about. + +But whilst the vicar full of ire +Was railing at this rate, +His worship, good Sir Samuel, +O'erlighted at the gate. + +And asking of the landlady +Th' occasion of the stir; +Quoth she, If you will give me leave +I will inform you, Sir. + +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. + +Go, seize them, Ralph, and bring them in, +That I may know the cause, +That first induced them to this rage, +And thus to break the laws. + +Ralph, who was both his squire and clerk, +And constable withal, +I' th' name o' th' Commonwealth aloud +Did for assistance bawl. + +The words had hardly pass'd his mouth +But they secure them both; +And Ralph, to show his furious zeal +And hatred to the cloth, + +Runs to the vicar through the crowd, +And takes him by the throat: +How ill, says he, doth this become +Your character and coat! + +Was it for this not long ago +You took the Covenant, +And in most solemn manner swore +That you'd become a saint? + +And here he gave him such a pinch +That made the vicar shout, - +Good people, I shall murder'd be +By this ungodly lout. + +He gripes my throat to that degree +I can't his talons bear; +And if you do not hold his hands, +He'll throttle me, I fear. + +At this a butcher of the town +Steps up to Ralph in ire, - +What, will you squeeze his gullet through, +You son of blood and fire? + +You are the Devil's instrument +To execute the laws; +What, will you murther the poor man +With your phanatick claws? + +At which the squire quits his hold, +And lugging out his blade, +Full at the sturdy butcher's pate +A furious stroke he made. + +A dismal outcry then began +Among the country folk; +Who all conclude the butcher slain +By such a mortal stroke. + +But here good fortune, that has still +A friendship for the brave, +I' th' nick misguides the fatal blow, +And does the butcher save. + +The knight, who heard the noise within, +Runs out with might and main, +And seeing Ralph amidst the crowd +In danger to be slain, + +Without regard to age or sex +Old basket-hilt so ply'd, +That in an instant three or four +Lay bleeding at his side. + +And greater mischiefs in his rage +This furious knight had done, +If he had not prevented been +By Dick, the blacksmith's son, + +Who catch'd his worship on the hip, +And gave him such a squelch, +That he some moments breathless lay +Ere he was heard to belch. + +Nor was the squire in better case, +By sturdy butcher ply'd, +Who from the shoulder to the flank +Had soundly swinged his hide. + +Whilst things in this confusion stood, +And knight and squire disarm'd, +Up comes a neighbouring gentleman +The outcry had alarm'd; + +Who riding up among the crowd, +The vicar first he spy'd, +With sleeveless gown and bloody band +And hands behind him ty'd. + +Bless me, says he, what means all this? +Then turning round his eyes, +In the same plight, or in a worse, +The cobbler bleeding spies. + +And looking further round he saw, +Like one in doleful dump, +The knight, amidst a gaping mob, +Sit pensive on his rump. + +And by his side lay Ralph his squire, +Whom butcher fell had maul'd; +Who bitterly bemoan'd his fate, +And for a surgeon call'd. + +Surprised at first he paused awhile, +And then accosts the knight, - +What makes you here, Sir Samuel, +In this unhappy plight? + +At this the knight gave's breast a thump, +And stretching out his hand, - +If you will pull me up, he cried, +I'll try if I can stand. + +And then I'll let you know the cause; +But first take care of Ralph, +Who in my good or ill success +Doth always stand my half. + +In short, he got his worship up +And led him in the door; +Where he at length relates the tale +As I have told before. + +When he had heard the story out, +The gentleman replies, - +It is not in my province, sir, +Your worship to advise. + +But were I in your worship's place, +The only thing I'd do, +Was first to reprimand the fools, +And then to let them go. + +I think it first advisable +To take them from the rabble, +And let them come and both set forth +The occasion of the squabble. + +This is the Vicar, Sir, of Bray, +A man of no repute, +The scorn and scandal of his tribe, +A loose, ill-manner'd brute. + +The cobbler's a poor strolling wretch +That mends my servants' shoes; +And often calls as he goes by +To bring me country news. + +At this his worship grip'd his beard, +And in an angry mood, +Swore by the laws of chivalry +That blood required blood. + +Besides, I'm by the Commonwealth +Entrusted to chastise +All knaves that straggle up and down +To raise such mutinies. + +However, since 'tis your request, +They shall be call'd and heard; +But neither Ralph nor I can grant +Such rascals should be clear'd. + +And so, to wind the tale up short, +They were call'd in together; +And by the gentlemen were ask'd +What wind 'twas blew them thither. + +Good ale and handsome landladies +You might have nearer home; +And therefore 'tis for something more +That you so far are come. + +To which the vicar answer'd first, - +My living is so small, +That I am forced to stroll about +To try and get a call. + +And, quoth the cobbler, I am forced +To leave my wife and dwelling, +T' escape the danger of being press'd +To go a colonelling. + +There's many an honest jovial lad +Unwarily drawn in, +That I have reason to suspect +Will scarce get out again. + +The proverb says, HARM WATCH HARM CATCH, +I'll out of danger keep, +For he that sleeps in a whole skin +Doth most securely sleep. + +My business is to mend bad soals +And stitch up broken quarters: +A cobbler's name would look but odd +Among a list of martyrs. + +Faith, cobbler, quoth the gentleman, +And that shall be my case; +I will neither party join, +Let what will come to pass. + +No importunities or threats +My fixt resolves shall rest; +Come here, Sir Samuel, where's his health +That loves old England best. + +I pity those unhappy fools +Who, ere they were aware, +Designing and ambitious men +Have drawn into a snare. + +But, vicar, to come to the case, - +Amidst a senseless crowd, +What urged you to such violence, +And made you talk so loud? + +Passion I'm sure does ill become +Your character and cloath, +And, tho' the cause be ne'er so just, +Brings scandal upon both. + +Vicar, I speak it with regret, +An inadvertent priest +Renders himself ridiculous, +And every body's jest. + +The vicar to be thus rebuked +A little time stood mute; +But having gulp'd his passion down, +Replies, - That cobbling brute + +Has treated me with such contempt, +Such vile expressions used, +That I no longer could forbear +To hear myself abused. + +The rascal had the insolence +To give himself the lie, +And to aver h' had done more good +And saved more soals than I. + +Nay, further, Sir, this miscreant +To tell me was so bold, +Our trades were very near of kin, +But his was the more old. + +Now, Sir, I will to you appeal +On such a provocation, +If there was not sufficient cause +To use a little passion? + +Now, quoth the cobbler, with your leave, +I'll prove it to his face, +All this is mere suggestion, +And foreign to the case. + +And since he calls so many names +And talks so very loud, +I will be bound to make it plain +'Twas he that raised the crowd. + +Nay, further, I will make 't appear +He and the priests have done +More mischief than the cobblers far +All over Christendom. + +All Europe groans beneath their yoke, +And poor Great Britain owes +To them her present miseries, +And dread of future woes. + +The priests of all religions are +And will be still the same, +And all, tho' in a different way, +Are playing the same game. + +At this the gentleman stood up, - +Cobbler, you run too fast; +By thus condemning all the tribe +You go beyond your last. + +Much mischief has by priests been done, +And more is doing still; +But then to censure all alike +Must be exceeding ill. + +Too many, I must needs confess, +Are mightily to blame, +Who by their wicked practices +Disgrace the very name. + +But, cobbler, still the major part +The minor should conclude; +To argue at another rate's +Impertinent and rude. + +By this time all the neighbours round +Were flock'd about the door, +And some were on the vicar's side, +But on the cobbler's more. + +Among the rest a grazier, who +Had lately been at town +To sell his oxen and his sheep, +Brim-full of news came down. + +Quoth he, The priests have preach'd and pray'd, +And made so damn'd a pother, +That all the people are run mad +To murther one another. + +By their contrivances and arts +They've play'd their game so long, +That no man knows which side is right, +Or which is in the wrong. + +I'm sure I've Smithfield market used +For more than twenty year, +But never did such murmurings +And dreadful outcries hear. + +Some for a church, and some a tub, +And some for both together; +And some, perhaps the greater part, +Have no regard for either. + +Some for a king, and some for none; +And some have hankerings +To mend the Commonwealth, and make +An empire of all kings. + +What's worse, old Noll is marching off, +And Dick, his heir-apparent, +Succeeds him in the government, +A very lame vicegerent. + +He'll reign but little time, poor fool, +But sink beneath the State, +That will not fail to ride the fool +'Bove common horseman's weight. + +And rulers, when they lose the power, +Like horses overweigh'd, +Must either fall and break their knees, +Or else turn perfect jade. + +The vicar to be twice rebuked +No longer could contain; +But thus replies, - To knaves like you +All arguments are vain. + +The Church must use her arm of flesh, +The other will not do; +The clergy waste their breath and time +On miscreants like you. + +You are so stubborn and so proud, +So dull and prepossest, +That no instructions can prevail +How well soe'er addrest. + +Who would reform such reprobates, +Must drub them soundly first; +I know no other way but that +To make them wise or just. + +Fie, vicar, fie, his patron said, +Sure that is not the way; +You should instruct your auditors +To suffer or obey. + +Those were the doctrines that of old +The learned fathers taught; +And 'twas by them the Church at first +Was to perfection brought. + +Come, vicar, lay your feuds aside, +And calmly take your cup; +And let us try in friendly wise +To make the matter up. + +That's certainly the wiser course, +And better too by far; +All men of prudence strive to quench +The sparks of civil war. + +By furious heats and ill advice +Our neighbours are undone, +Then let us timely caution take +From their destruction. + +If we would turn our heads about, +And look towards forty-one, +We soon should see what little jars +Those cruel wars begun. + +A one-eyed cobbler then was one +Of that rebellious crew, +That did in Charles the martyr's blood +Their wicked hands imbrue. + +I mention this not to deface +This cobbler's reputation, +Whom I have always honest found, +And useful in his station. + +But this I urge to let you see +The danger of a fight +Between a cobbler and a priest, +Though he were ne'er so right. + +The vicars are a numerous tribe, +So are the cobblers too; +And if a general quarrel rise, +What must the country do? + +Our outward and our inward soals +Must quickly want repair; +And all the neighbourhood around +Would the misfortune share. + +Sir, quoth the grazier, I believe +Our outward soals indeed +May quickly want the cobbler's help +To be from leakings freed. + +But for our inward souls, I think +They're of a worth too great +To be committed to the care +Of any holy cheat, + +Who only serves his God for gain, +Religion is his trade; +And 'tis by such as these our Church +So scandalous is made. + +Why should I trust my soul with one +That preaches, swears, and prays, +And the next moment contradicts +Himself in all he says? + +His solemn oaths he looks upon +As only words of course! +Which like their wives our fathers took +For better or for worse. + +But he takes oaths as some take w-s, +Only to serve his ease; +And rogues and w-s, it is well known, +May part whene'er they please. + +At this the cobbler bolder grew, +And stoutly thus reply'd, - +If you're so good at drubbing, Sir, +Your manhood shall be try'd. + +What I have said I will maintain, +And further prove withal - +I daily do more good than you +In my respective call. + +I know your character, quoth he, +You proud insulting vicar, +Who only huff and domineer +And quarrel in your liquor. + +The honest gentleman, who saw +'Twould come again to blows, +Commands the cobbler to forbear, +And to the vicar goes. + +Vicar, says he, for shame give o'er +And mitigate your rage; +You scandalize your cloth too much +A cobbler to engage. + +All people's eyes are on your tribe, +And every little ill +They multiply and aggravate +And will because they will. + +But now let's call another cause, +So let this health go round; +Be peace and plenty, truth and right, +In good old England found. + +Quoth Ralph, All this is empty talk +And only tends to laughter; +If these two varlets should be spared, +Who'd pity us hereafter? + +Your worship may do what you please, +But I'll have satisfaction +For drubbing and for damages +In this ungodly action. + +I think that you can do no less +Than send them to the stocks; +And I'll assist the constable +In fixing in their hocks. + +There let 'em sit and fight it out, +Or scold till they are friends; +Or, what is better much than both, +Till I am made amends. + +Ralph, quoth the knight, that's well advised, +Let them both hither go, +And you and the sub-magistrate +Take care that it be so. + +Let them be lock'd in face to face, +Bare buttocks on the ground; +And let them in that posture sit +Till they with us compound. + +Thus fixt, well leave them for a time, +Whilst we with grief relate, +How at a wake this knight and squire +Got each a broken pate. + + + +Ballad: The Geneva Ballad + + + +From Samuel Butler's Posthumous Works. + + +Of all the factions in the town +Moved by French springs or Flemish wheels, +None turns religion upside down, +Or tears pretences out at heels, +Like SPLAYMOUTH with his brace of caps, +Whose conscience might be scann'd perhaps +By the dimensions of his chaps; + +He whom the sisters do adore, +Counting his actions all divine, +Who when the spirit hints can roar, +And, if occasion serves, can whine; +Nay, he can bellow, bray, or bark; +Was ever SIKE A BEAUK-LEARN'D clerk +That speaks all linguas of the ark? + +To draw the hornets in like bees, +With pleasing twangs he tones his prose; +He gives his handkerchief a squeeze, +And draws John Calvin thro' his nose; +Motive on motive he obtrudes, +With slip-stocking similitudes, +Eight uses more, and so concludes. + +When monarchy began to bleed, +And treason had a fine new name; +When Thames was balderdash'd with Tweed, +And pulpits did like beacons flame; +When Jeroboam's calves were rear'd, +And Laud was neither loved nor fear'd, +This gospel-comet first appear'd. + +Soon his unhallow'd fingers stript +His sovereign-liege of power and land; +And, having smote his master, slipt +His sword into his fellow's hand; +But he that wears his eyes may note +Oft-times the butcher binds a goat, +And leaves his boy to cut her throat. + +Poor England felt his fury then +Outweigh'd Queen Mary's many grains; +His very preaching slew more men +Than Bonnar's faggots, stakes, and chains: +With dog-star zeal, and lungs like Boreas, +He fought, and taught, and, what's notorious, +Destroy'd his Lord to make him glorious. + +Yet drew for King and Parliament, +As if the wind could stand north-south; +Broke Moses' law with blest intent, +Murther'd, and then he wiped his mouth: +Oblivion alters not his case, +Nor clemency nor acts of grace +Can blanch an Ethiopian's face. + +Ripe for rebellion, he begins +To rally up the saints in swarms; +He bawls aloud, Sir, leave your sins, +But whispers, Boys, stand to your arms: +Thus he's grown insolently rude, +Thinking his gods can't be subdued - +MONEY, I mean, and MULTITUDE. + +Magistrates he regards no more +Than St George or the King of Colon, +Vowing he'll not conform before +The old wives wind their dead in woollen: +He calls the bishop gray-hair'd coff, +And makes his power as mere a scoff +As Dagon when his hands were off. + +Hark! how he opens with full cry, +Halloo, my hearts, beware of Rome! +Cowards that are afraid to die +Thus make domestic brawls at home. +How quietly great Charles might reign, +Would all these Hotspurs cross the main +And preach down Popery in Spain. + +The starry rule of Heaven is fixt, +There's no dissension in the sky; +And can there be a mean betwixt, +Confusion and conformity? +A place divided never thrives, +'Tis bad when hornets dwell in hives, +But worse when children play with knives. + +I would as soon turn back to mass, +Or change my praise to THEE and THOU; +Let the Pope ride me like an ass, +And his priests milk me like a cow! +As buckle to Smectymnian laws, +The bad effects o' th' Good old Cause, +That have dove's plumes, but vulture's claws. + +For 'twas the holy Kirk that nursed, +The Brownists and the ranters' crew; +Foul error's motley vesture first +Was oaded (98) in a northern blue; +And what's th' enthusiastick breed, +Or men of Knipperdolin's creed, +But Cov'nanters run up to seed! + +Yet they all cry they love the King, +And make boast of their innocence: +There cannot be so vile a thing +But may be cover'd with pretence; +Yet when all's said, one thing I'll swear, +No subject like th' old Cavalier, +No traytor like JACK-PRESBYTER. + + + +Ballad: The Devil's Progress On Earth, Or Huggle Duggle + + + +From Durfey's "Pills to Purge Melancholy." + + +FRIER BACON walks again, +And Doctor FORSTER (99) too; +PROSPERINE and PLUTO, +And many a goblin crew: +With that a merry devil, +To make the AIRING, vow'd; +Huggle Duggle, Ha! ha! ha! +The Devil laugh'd aloud. + +Why think you that he laugh'd? +Forsooth he came from court; +And there amongst the gallants +Had spy'd such pretty sport; +There was such cunning jugling, +And ladys gon so proud; +Huggle Duggle, etc. + +With that into the city +Away the Devil went; +To view the merchants' dealings +It was his full intent: +And there along the brave Exchange +He crept into the croud. +Huggle Duggle, etc. + +He went into the city +To see all there was well; +Their scales were false, their weights were light, +Their conscience fit for hell; +And PANDERS chosen magistrates, +And PURITANS allow'd. +Huggle Duggle, etc. + +With that unto the country +Away the Devil goeth; +For there is all plain dealing, +For that the Devil knoweth: +But the rich man reaps the gains +For which the poor man plough'd. +Huggle Duggle, etc. + +With that the Devil in haste +Took post away to hell, +And call'd his fellow furies, +And told them all on earth was well: +That falsehood there did flourish, +Plain dealing was in a cloud. +Huggle Duggle, Ha! ha! ha! +The devils laugh'd aloud. + + + +Ballad: A Bottle Definition Of That Fallen Angel, Called A Whig + + + +From a collection of Historical and State Poems, Satyrs, Songs, and +Epigrams, by Ned Ward, A. D. 1717. + + +What is a Whig? A cunning rogue +That once was in, now out of vogue: +A rebel to the Church and throne, +Of Lucifer the very spawn. + +A tyrant, who is ne'er at rest +In power, or when he's dispossess'd; +A knave, who foolishly has lost +What so much blood and treasure cost. + +A lying, bouncing desperado, +A bomb, a stink-pot, a granado; +That's ready primed, and charged to break, +And mischief do for mischief's sake: + +A comet, whose portending phiz +Appears more dreadful than it is; +But now propitious stars repel +Those ills it lastly did fortel. + +'Twill burst with unregarded spight, +And, since the Parliament proves right, +Will turn to smoke, which shone of late +So bright and flaming in the State. + + + +Ballad: The Desponding Whig + + + +From Ned Ward's Works, vol. iv. 1709. + + +When owles are strip'd of their disguise, +And wolves of shepherd's cloathing, +Those birds and beasts that please our eyes +Will then beget our loathing; +When foxes tremble in their holes +At dangers that they see, +And those we think so wise prove fools, +Then low, boys, down go we. + +If those designs abortive prove +We've been so long in hatching, +And cunning knaves are forced to move +From home for fear of catching; +The rabble soon will change their tone +When our intrigues they see, +And cry God save the Church and Throne, +Then low, boys, down go we. + +The weaver then no more must leave +His loom and turn a preacher, +Nor with his cant poor fools deceive +To make himself the richer. +Our leaders soon would disappear +If such a change should be, +Our scriblers too would stink for fear, +Then low, boys, down go we. + +No canvisars would dare to shew +Their postures and grimaces, +Or proph'sy what they never knew, +By dint of ugly faces. +But shove the tumbler through the town, +And quickly banish'd be, +For none must teach without a gown, +Then low, boys, down go we. + +If such unhappy days should come, +Our virtue, moderation, +Would surely be repaid us home +With double compensation; +For as we never could forgive, +I fear we then should see +That what we lent we must receive, +Then low, boys, down go we. + +Should honest brethren once discern +Our knaveries, they'd disown us, +And bubbl'd fools more wit should learn, +The Lord have mercy on us; +Let's guard against that evil day, +Least such a time should be, +And tackers should come into play, +Then low, boys, down go we. + +Tho' hitherto we've play'd our parts +Like wary cunning foxes, +And gain'd the common people's hearts +By broaching het'rodoxes, - +But they're as fickle as the winds, +With nothing long agree, +And when they change their wav'ring minds, +Then low, boys, down go we. + +Let's preach and pray, but spit our gall +On those that do oppose us, +And cant of grace, in spite of all +The shame the Devil owes us: +The just, the loyal, and the wise +With us shall Papists be, +For if the HIGH CHURCH once should rise, +Then, LOW CHURCH, down go we. + + + +Ballad: Phanatick Zeal, Or A Looking-glass For The Whigs + + + +From a Collection of 180 Loyal Songs. Tune, "A Swearing we will +go." + + +Who would not be a Tory +When the loyal are call'd so: +And a Whig now is known +To be the nation's foe? +So a Tory I will be, will be, +And a Tory I will be. + +With little band precise, +Hair Presbyterian cut, +Whig turns up hands and eyes +Though smoking hot from slut. +So a Tory I will be, etc. + +Black cap turn'd up with white, +With wolfish neck and face, +And mouth with nonsense stuft, +Speaks Whig a man of grace, +And a Tory I will be, etc. + +The sisters go to meetings +To meet their gallants there; +And oft mistake for my Lord, +And snivel out my dear. +And a Tory I will be, etc. + +Example, we do own, +Than precept better is; +For Creswell she was safe, +When she lived a private Miss. +And a Tory I will be, etc. + +The Whigs, though ne'er so proud, +Sometimes have been as low, +For there are some of note +Have long a raree-show. +And a Tory I will be, etc. + +These mushrooms now have got +Their champion turn-coat hick; +But if the naked truth were known +They're assisted by old Nick. +And a Tory I will be, etc. + +To be and to be not +At once is in their power; +For when they're in, they're guilty, +But clear when out o' the tower. +And a Tory I will be, etc. + +To carry their designs, +Though 't contradicts their sense; +They're clear a Whiggish traytor +Against clear evidence. +And a Tory I will be, etc. + +The old proverb doth us tell, +Each dog will have his day; +And Whig has had his too, +For which he'll soundly pay; +And a Tory I will be, etc. + +For bodkins and for thimbles +Now let your tubsters cant; +Their confounded tired cause +Had never yet more want. +So a Tory I will be, etc. + +For ignoramus Toney +Has left you in the lurch; +And you have spent your money, +So, faith, e'en come to Church; +For a Tory I will be, etc. + +They are of no religion, +Be it spoken to their glories, +For St Peter and St Paul +With them both are Tories; +And a Tory I will be, etc. + +They're excellent contrivers, +I wonder what they're not, +For something they can make +Of nothing and a plot. +And a Tory I will be, etc. + +But now your holy cheat +Is known throughout the nation; +And a Whig is known to be +A thing quite out of fashion. +And a Tory I will be, etc. + + + +Ballad: A New Game At Cards: Or, Win At First And Lose At Last + + + +A popular ballad, written immediately after the restoration of +Charles II.; and in which the victorious Cavaliers render honour to +General Monk, Duke of Albemarle. + +Tune, "Ye gallants that delight to play." + + +Ye merry hearts that love to play +At cards, see who hath won the day; +You that once did sadly sing +The knave of clubs hath won the king; +Now more happy times we have, +The king hath overcome the knave. + +Not long ago a game was play'd, +When three crowns at the stakes were laid; +England had no cause to boast, +Knaves won that which kings had lost: +Coaches gave the way to carts, +And clubs were better cards than hearts. + +Old Noll was the knave o' clubs, +And dad of such as preach in tubs; +Bradshaw, Ireton, and Pride +Were three other knaves beside; +And they play'd with half the pack, +Throwing out all cards but black. + +But the just Fates threw these four out, +Which made the loyal party shout; +The Pope would fain have had the stock, +And with these cards have whipt his dock. +But soon the Devil these cards snatches +To dip in brimstone, and make matches. + +But still the sport for to maintain, +Bold Lambert, Haslerigg, and Vane, +With one-eyed Hewson, took their places, +Knaves were better cards than aces; +But Fleetwood he himself did save, +Because he was more fool than knave. + +Cromwell, though he so much had won, +Yet he had an unlucky son; +He sits still, and not regards, +Whilst cunning gamesters set the cards; +And thus, alas! poor silly Dick, +He play'd awhile, and lost his trick. + +The Rumpers that had won whole towns, +The spoils of martyrs and of crowns, +Were not contented, but grew rough, +As though they had not won enough; +They kept the cards still in their hands, +To play for tithes and college lands. + +The Presbyters began to fret +That they were like to lose the sett; +Unto the Rump they did appeal, +And said it was their turn to deal; +Then dealt with Presbyterians, but +The army swore that they would cut. + +The foreign lands began to wonder, +To see what gallants we lived under, +That they, which Christians did forswear, +Should follow gaming all the year, - +Nay more, which was the strangest thing, +To play so long without a king. + +The bold phanatics present were, +Like butlers with their boxes there, +Not doubting but that every game +Some profit would redound to them; +Because they were the gamesters' minions, +And every day broach'd new opinions. + +But Cheshire men (as stories say) +Began to show them gamester's play; +Brave Booth and all his army strives +To save the stakes, or lose their lives; +But, oh sad fate! they were undone +By playing of their cards too soon. + +Thus all the while a club was trump, +There's none could ever beat the Rump, +Until a noble general came, +And gave the cheaters a clear slam; +His finger did outwit their noddy, +And screw'd up poor Jack Lambert's body. + +Then Haslerigg began to scowl, +And said the general play'd foul. +Look to him, partners, for I tell ye, +This Monk has got a king in's belly. +Not so, quoth Monk, but I believe +Sir Arthur has a knave in's sleeve. + +When General Monk did understand +The Rump were peeping into's hand, +He wisely kept his cards from sight, +Which put the Rump into a fright; +He saw how many were betray'd +That show'd their cards before they play'd. + +At length, quoth he, some cards we lack, +I will not play with half a pack; +What you cast out I will bring in, +And a new game we will begin: +With that the standers-by did say +They never yet saw fairer play. + +But presently this game was past, +And for a second knaves were cast; +All new cards, not stain'd with spots, +As was the Rumpers and the Scots, - +Here good gamesters play'd their parts +And turn'd up the king of hearts. + +After this game was done, I think +The standers-by had cause to drink, +And all loyal subjects sing, +Farewell knaves, and welcome King; +For, till we saw the King return'd, +We wish'd the cards had all been burn'd. + + + +Ballad: The Cavaleers Litany + + + +(March 25th, 1660.) - From the King's Pamphlets, British Museum. + + +From pardons which extend to woods, +Entitle thieves to keep our goods, +Forgive our rents as well as bloods, +God bless, etc. + +From judges who award that none +Of our oppressours should attone +(The losses sure were not their own), +God bless, etc. + +From Christians which can soon forget +Our injuries, but not one bit +Of self-concernment would remit, +God bless, etc. + +From duresse, and their dolefull tale, +Who, famisht by a lawless sale, +Compounded it for cakes and ale, +God bless, etc. + +From persons still to tread the stage, +Who did the drudgeries of our age +(Such counsells are, I fear, too sage), +God bless, etc. + +From maximes which (to make all sure) +With great rewards the bad allure, +'Cause of the good they are secure, +God bless, etc. + +From cunning gamesters, who, they say, +Are sure to winne, what-e're they play; +In April Lambert, Charles in May, +God bless, etc. + +From neuters and their leven'd lump, +Who name the King and mean the Rump, +Or care not much what card is trump, +God bless, etc. + +From midnight-birds, who lye at catch +Some plume from monarchy to snatch, +And from fond youths that cannot watch, +God bless, etc. + +From brethren who must still dissent, +Whose froward gospell brooks no Lent, +And who recant, but ne'er repent, +God bless, etc. + +From Levites void of truth and shame, +Who to the time their pulpits frame, +And keep the style but change the name, +God bless, etc. + +From men by heynous crimes made rich, +Who (though their hopes are in the ditch) +Have still th' old fornicatours itch, +God bless, etc. + +From such as freely paid th' arrears +Of the State-troops for many years, +But grudge one tax for Cavaleers, +God bless, etc. + + +THE SECOND PART. + + +A crown of gold without allay, +Not here provided for one day, +But framed above to last for aye! +God send, etc. + +A Queen to fill the empty place, +And multiply his noble race, +Wee all beseech the throne of grace +To send, etc. + +A people still as true and kind +As late (when for their King they pin'd), +Not fickle as the tide or wild, +God send, etc. + +A fleet like that in fifty-three, +To re-assert our power at sea, +And make proud Flemings bend their knee, +God send, etc. + +Full magazines and cash in store, +That such as wrought his fate before +May hope to do the same no more, +God send, etc. + +A searching judgement to divine, +Of persons whether they do joyn +For love, for fear, or for design, +God send, etc. + +A well-complexion'd Parliament, +That shall (like Englishmen) resent +What loyall subjects underwent, +God send, etc. + +Review of statutes lately past, +Made in such heat, pen'd in such hast, +That all events were not forecast, +God send, etc. + +Dispatch of businesse, lawes upright, +And favour where it stands with right, +(Be their purses ne'er so light), +God send, etc. + +A raven to supply their need, +Whose martyrdom (like noble seed) +Sprung up at length and choak't the weed, +God send, etc. + +The King and kingdom's debts defray'd, +And those of honest men well pay'd, +To which their vertue them betray'd, +God send, etc. + +Increase of customes to the King +May our increase of traffick bring, +'Tis that will make the people sing +Long live, etc. + + +London, printed for Robert Crofts, at the Crown, in Chancery Lane, +1661. + + + +Ballad: The Cavalier's Complaint + + + +This and the following ballad, from the King's Pamphlets, British +Museum, express the discontent of the Cavaliers at the ingratitude +of King Charles to the old supporters of the fortunes of his +family. - (March 15th, 1660.) + +To the tune of "I tell thee, Dick." + + +Come, Jack, let's drink a pot of ale, +And I shall tell thee such a tale +Will make thine ears to ring; +My coyne is spent, my time is lost, +And I this only fruit can boast, +That once I saw my King. + +But this doth most afflict my mind: +I went to Court in hope to find +Some of my friends in place; +And walking there, I had a sight +Of all the crew, but, by this light! +I hardly knew one face. + +'S'life! of so many noble sparkes, +Who on their bodies bear the markes +Of their integritie; +And suffer'd ruine of estate, +It was my damn'd unhappy fate +That I not one could see. + +Not one, upon my life, among +My old acquaintance all along +At Truro and before; +And I suppose the place can show +As few of those whom thou didst know +At Yorke or Marston-moore. + +But truly there are swarmes of those +Who lately were our chiefest foes, +Of pantaloons and muffes; +Whilst the old rusty Cavaleer +Retires, or dares not once appear, +For want of coyne and cuffes. + +When none of these I could descry, +Who better far deserv'd then I, +Calmely I did reflect; +"Old services (by rule of State) +Like almanacks grow out of date, - +What then can I expect?" + +Troth! in contempt of Fortune's frown, +I'll get me fairly out of town, +And in a cloyster pray; +That since the starres are yet unkind +To Royalists, the King may find +More faithfull friends than they. + + + +Ballad: An Echo To The Cavalier's Complaint + + + +I marvel, Dick, that having been +So long abroad, and having seen +The world as thou hast done, +Thou should'st acquaint mee with a tale +As old as Nestor, and as stale +As that of Priest and Nunne. (100) + +Are we to learn what is a Court? +A pageant made for fortune's sport, +Where merits scarce appear; +For bashfull merit only dwells +In camps, in villages, and cells; +Alas! it dwells not there. + +Desert is nice in its addresse, +And merit ofttimes doth oppresse +Beyond what guilt would do; +But they are sure of their demands +That come to Court with golden hands, +And brazen faces, too. + +The King, they say, doth still professe +To give his party some redresse, +And cherish honestie; +But his good wishes prove in vain, +Whose service with his servants' gain +Not alwayes doth agree. + +All princes (be they ne'er so wise) +Are fain to see with others' eyes, +But seldom hear at all; +And courtiers find their interest +In time to feather well their nest, +Providing for their fall. + +Our comfort doth on time depend, +Things when they are at worst will mend; +And let us but reflect +On our condition th' other day, +When none but tyrants bore the sway, +What did we then expect? + +Meanwhile a calm retreat is best, +But discontent (if not supprest) +Will breed disloyaltie; +This is the constant note I sing, +I have been faithful to the King, +And so shall ever be. + +London, printed for Robert Crofts, at the Crown, in Chancery Lane, +1661. + + + +Ballad: A Relation + + + +Of Ten grand infamous Traytors, who, for their horrid murder and +detestable villany against our late soveraigne Lord King Charles +the First, that ever blessed martyr, were arraigned, tryed, and +executed in the moneth of October, 1660, which in perpetuity will +be had in remembrance unto the world's end. + +This is one of the Six Ballads of the Restoration found in a trunk, +and sent by Sir W. C. Trevelyan to the British Museum. "No measure +threw more disgrace on the Restoration," says Mr Wright, "than the +prosecution of the regicides; and the heartless and sanguinary +manner in which it was conducted tended more than any other +circumstance to open the eyes of the people to the real character +of the government to which they had been betrayed." Pepys observes +on the 20th Oct., "A bloody week this and the last have been; there +being ten hanged, drawn, and quartered." + +The tune is "Come let us drinke, the time invites." + +Hee that can impose a thing, +And shew forth a reason +For what was done against the King, +From the palace to the prison; +Let him here with me recite, +For my pen is bent to write +The horrid facts of treason. + +Since there is no learned scribe +Nor arithmaticion +Ever able to decide +The usurp'd base ambition, +Which in truth I shall declare, +Traytors here which lately were, +Who wanted a phisitian. + +For the grand disease that bred +Nature could not weane it; +From the foot unto the head, +Was putrefacted treason in it; +Doctors could no cure give, +Which made the squire then beleeve +That he must first begin it. + +And the phisick did compose, +Within a pound of reason; +First to take away the cause, +Then to purge away the treason, +With a dosse of hemp made up, +Wrought as thickly as a rope, +And given them in due season. + +The doctors did prescribe at last +To give 'um this potation, +A vomit or a single cast, +Well deserved, in purgation; +After that to lay them downe, +And bleed a veine in every one, +As traytors of the nation. + +So when first the physicke wrought, +The thirteenth of October, (101) +The patient on a sledge was brought, +Like a rebell and a rover, +To the execution tree; +Where with much dexterity +Was gently turned over. + + +THE SECOND PART - To the same tune. + + +Monday was the fifteenth day, +As Carew then did follow, (102) +Of whom all men I thinke might say +In tyranny did deeply wallow; +Traytor proved unto the King, +Which made him on the gallowes swing, +And all the people hallow. + +Tuesday, after Peters, Cooke, (103) +Two notorious traytors, +That brought our soveraigne to the blocke, +For which were hang'd and cut in quarters; +'Twas Cooke which wrought the bloody thing +To draw the charge against our King, +That ever blessed martyr. + +Next, on Wednesday, foure came, +For murthur all imputed, +There to answer for the same, +Which in judgement were confuted. +Gregorie Clement, Jones, and Scot, +And Scroop together, for a plot, (104) +Likewise were executed. + +Thursday past, and Friday then, +To end the full conclusion, +And make the traytors just up ten, +That day were brought to execution, +Hacker and proud Axtell he, (105) +At Tyburne for their treachery +Received their absolution. + +Being against the King and States, +The Commons all condemn'd 'um, +And their quarters on the gates +Hangeth for a memorandum +'Twixt the heavens and the earth; +Traytors are so little worth, +To dust and smoake wee'l send 'um. + +Let now October warning make +To bloody-minded traytors, +That never phisicke more they take, +For in this moneth they lost their quarters; +Being so against the King, +Which to murther they did bring, +The ever blessed martyr. + + +London, printed for Fr. Coles, T. Vere, M. Wright, and W. +Gilbertson. + + + +Ballad: The Glory Of These Nations + + + +Or, King and peoples happinesse. Being a brief relation of King +Charles's royall progresse from Dover to London, how the Lord +Generall and the Lord Mayor, with all the nobility and gentry of +the land, brought him thorow the famous city of London to his +pallace at Westminster, the 29th of May last, being his Majesties +birth-day, to the great comfort of his loyall subjects. + +One of the six curious broadsides found by Sir W. C. Trevelyan in +the lining of a trunk, and now in the British Museum. + +The new Parliament met on the twenty-fifth of April, and on the +first of May the King's letter from Breda was read, and the +Restoration determined by a vote of the House. The King +immediately repaired to the coast, and, after meeting with some +obstruction from the roughness of the weather, went on board the +NAZEBY on the 23rd of May. On the 25th he landed at Dover. He +made his entry into London on the 29th. + +To the tune of "When the King enjoys his own again." + + +Where's those that did prognosticate, +And did envy fair England's state, +And said King Charles no more should reign? +Their predictions were but in vain, +For the King is now return'd, +For whom fair England mourn'd; +His nobles royally him entertain. +Now blessed be the day! +Thus do his subjects say, +That God hath brought him home again. + +The twenty-second of lovely May +At Dover arrived, fame doth say, +Where our most noble generall +Did on his knees before him fall, +Craving to kiss his hand, +So soon as he did land. +Royally they did him entertain, +With all their pow'r and might, +To bring him to his right, +And place him in his own again. + +Then the King, I understand, +Did kindly take him by the hand +And lovingly did him embrace, +Rejoycing for to see his face. +Hee lift him from the ground +With joy that did abound, +And graciously did him entertain; +Rejoycing that once more +He was o' th' English shore, +To enjoy his own in peace again. + +From Dover to Canterbury they past, +And so to Cobham-hall at last; +From thence to London march amain, +With a triumphant and glorious train, +Where he was received with joy, +His sorrow to destroy, +In England once more for to raign; +Now all men do sing, +God save Charles our King, +That now enjoyes his own again. + +At Deptford the maidens they +Stood all in white by the high-way +Their loyalty to Charles to show, +They with sweet flowers his way to strew. +Each wore a ribbin blew, +They were of comely hue, +With joy they did him entertain, +With acclamations to the skye +As the King passed by, +For joy that he receives his own again. + +In Wallworth-fields a gallant band +Of London 'prentices did stand, +All in white dublets very gay, +To entertain King Charles that day, +With muskets, swords, and pike; +I never saw the like, +Nor a more youthfull gallant train; +They up their hats did fling, +And cry, "God save the King! +Now he enjoys his own again." + +At Newington-Buts the Lord Mayor willed +A famous booth for to be builded, +Where King Charles did make a stand, +And received the sword into his hand; +Which his Majesty did take, +And then returned back +Unto the Mayor with love again. +A banquet they him make, +He doth thereof partake, +Then marcht his triumphant train. + +The King with all his noblemen, +Through Southwark they marched then; +First marched Major Generall Brown, (106) +Then Norwich Earle of great renown, (107) +With many a valiant knight +And gallant men of might, +Richly attired, marching amain, +There Lords Mordin, Gerard, and +The good Earle of Cleavland, (108) +To bring the King to his own again. + +Near sixty flags and streamers then +Was born before a thousand men, +In plush coats and chaines of gold, +These were most rich for to behold; +With every man his page, +The glory of his age; +With courage bold they marcht amain, +Then with gladnesse they +Brought the King on his way +For to enjoy his own again. + +Then Lichfields and Darbyes Earles, (109) +Two of fair England's royall pearles; +Major Generall Massey then +Commanded the life guard of men, +The King for to defend, +If any should contend, +Or seem his comming to restrain; +But also joyfull were +That no such durst appear, +Now the King enjoyes his own again. + +Four rich maces before them went, +And many heralds well content; +The Lord Mayor and the generall +Did march before the King withall. +His brothers on each side +Along by him did ride; +The Southwark-waits did play amain, +Which made them all to smile +And to stand still awhile, +And then they marched on again. + +Then with drawn swords all men did side, +And flourishing the same, then cryed, +"Charles the Second now God save, +That he his lawfull right may have! +And we all on him attend, +From dangers him to defend, +And all that with him doth remain. +Blessed be God that we +Did live these days to see, +That the King enjoyes his own again!" + +The bells likewise did loudly ring, +Bonefires did burn and people sing; +London conduits did run with wine, +And all men do to Charles incline; +Hoping now that all +Unto their trades may fall, +Their famylies for to maintain, +And from wrong be free, +'Cause we have liv'd to see +The King enjoy his own again. + + +London, printed for Charles Tyns, on London Bridge. + + + +Ballad: The Noble Progress + + + +Or, A True Relation Of The Lord General Monk's Political +Proceedings. + +The Noble Progresse, or a True Relation of the Lord General Monk's +Political Proceedings with the Rump, the calling in the secluded +Members, their transcendant vote for his sacred Majesty, with his +reception at Dover, and royal conduct through the City of London to +his famous Palace at Whitehall. One of the broadsides in the +British Museum, found in the lining of an old trunk by Sir W. C. +Trevelyan. + +Tune - "When first the Scottish wars began." + + +Good people, hearken to my call, +I'le tell you all what did befall +And hapned of late; +Our noble valiant General Monk +Came to the Rump, who lately stunk +With their council of state. +Admiring what this man would doe, +His secret mind there's none could know, +They div'd into him as much as they could, - +George would not be won with their silver nor gold: +The sectarian saints at this lookt blew, +With all the rest of the factious crew, +They vapour'd awhile, and were in good hope, +But now they have nothing left but the rope. + +Another invention then they sought, +Which long they wrought for to be brought +To claspe him with they; +Quoth Vane and Scot, I'le tell you what, +Wee'l have a plot and he shall not, +Wee'l carry the sway: +Let's vote him a thousand pound a yeare, +And Hampton Court for him and his Heire. +Indeed, quoth George, ye're Free Parliament men +To cut a thong out of another man's skin. +The sectarian, etc. + +They sent him then with all his hosts +To break our posts and raise our ghosts, +Which was their intent; +To cut our gates and chain all downe +Unto the ground - this trick they found +To make him be shent: +This plot the Rump did so accord +To cast an odium on my lord, +But in the task he was hard put untoo't, +'Twas enough to infect both his horse and his foot, +The sectarian, etc. + +But when my lord perceived that night +What was their spight, he brought to light +Their knaveries all; +This Parliament of forty-eight, +Which long did wait, came to him straight, +To give them a fall, +And some phanatical people knew +That George would give them their fatall due; +Indeed he did requite them agen, +For he pul'd the Monster out of his den. +The sectarian, etc. + +To the House our worthy Parliament +With good intent they boldly went +To vote home the King, +And many hundred people more +Stood at the doore, and waited for +Good tidings to bring; +Yet some in the House had their hands much in blood, +And in great opposition like traytors they stood; +But yet I believe it is very well known +That those that were for him were twenty to one. +But the sectarian, etc. + +They call'd the League and Covenant in +To read again to every man; +But what comes next? +All sequestrations null be void, +The people said none should be paid, +For this was the text. +For, as I heard all the people say, +They voted King Charles the first of May; +Bonfires burning, bells did ring, +And our streets did echo with God bless ye King. +At this the sectarian, etc. + +Our general then to Dover goes, +In spite of foes or deadly blowes, +Saying Vive le Roy; +And all the glories of the land, +At his command they there did stand +In triumph and joy. +Good Lord, what a sumptuous sight 'twas to see +Our good Lord General fall on his knee +To welcome home his Majestie, +And own his sacred sovereignty. +But the sectarian, etc. + +When all the worthy noble train +Came back again with Charlemain, +Our sovereign great: +The Lord Mayor in his scarlet gown, +His chain so long, went through the town +In pompe and state. +The livery-men each line the way +Upon this great triumphant day; +Five rich maces carried before, +And my Lord himselfe the sword he bore. +Then Vive le Roy the gentry did sing, +For General Monk rode next to the King; +With acclamations, shouts, and cryes, +I thought they would have rent the skyes. + +The conduits, ravished with joy, +As I may say, did run all day +Great plenty of wine; +And every gentleman of note +In's velvet coat that could be got +In glory did shine. +There were all the peeres and barrons bold, +Richly clad in silver and gold, +Marched through the street so brave, +No greater pompe a king could have. +At this, the sacristan, etc. + +And thus conducted all along +Throughout the throng, still he did come +Unto White Hall; +Attended by those noble-men, +Bold heroes' kin that brought him in +With the geneall; +Who was the man that brought him home +And placed him on his royal throne; - +'Twas General Monk did doe the thing, +So God preserve our gracious King, +Now the sacristan, etc. + + + +Ballad: On The King's Return + + + +By Alex. Brome. + + +Long have we waited for a happy end +Of all our miseries and strife; - +But still in vain; - the swordmen did intend +To make them hold for term of life: +That our distempers might be made +Their everlasting livelihood and trade. + +They entail their swords and guns, +And pay, which wounded more, +Upon their daughters and their sons, +Thereby to keep us ever poor. + +But when the Civil Wars were past, +They civil government invade, +To make our taxes and our slavery last, +Both to their titles and their trade. + +But now we are redeem'd from all +By our indulgent King, +Whose coming does prevent our fall, +With loyal and with joyful hearts we'll sing: + +CHORUS + +Welcome, welcome, royal May, +Welcome, long-desired Spring. +Many Springs and Mays we've seen, +Have brought forth what's gay and green; +But none is like this glorious day, +Which brings forth our gracious King. + + + +Ballad: The Brave Barbary + + + +A Ballad by Alex. Brome. + + +Old England is now a brave Barbary made, +And every one has an ambition to ride her; +King Charles was a horseman that long used the trade, +But he rode in a snaffle, and that could not guide her. + +Then the hungry Scot comes with spur and with switch, +And would teach her to run a Geneva career; +His grooms were all Puritan, Traytor, and Witch, +But she soon threw them down with their pedlary geer. + +The Long Parliament next came all to the block, +And they this untameable palfrey would ride; +But she would not bear all that numerous flock, +At which they were fain themselves to divide. + +Jack Presbyter first gets the steed by the head, +While the reverend Bishops had hold of the bridle; +Jack said through the nose they their flockes did not feed, +But sat still on the beast and grew aged and idle. + +And then comes the Rout, with broom-sticks inspired, +And pull'd down their graces, their sleeves, and their train; +And sets up Sir Jack, who the beast quickly tyr'd +With a journey to Scotland and thence back again. + +Jack rode in a doublet, with a yoke of prick-ears, +A cursed splay-mouth and a Covenant spur, +Rides switching and spurring with jealousies and fears, +Till the poor famish'd beast was not able to stir. + +Next came th' Independent - a dev'lish designer, +And got himself call'd by a holier name - +Makes Jack to unhorse, for he was diviner, +And would make her travel as far's Amsterdam. + +But Nol, a rank-rider, gets first in the saddle, +And made her show tricks, and curvate, and rebound; +She quickly perceived that he rode widdle waddle, +And like his coach-horses threw his Highness to ground. + +Then Dick, being lame, rode holding by the pummel, +Not having the wit to get hold of the rein; +But the jade did so snort at the sight of a Cromwell, +That poor Dick and his kindred turn'd footmen again. + +Next Fleetwood and Vane with their rascally pack, +Would every one put their feet in the stirrup; +But they pull'd the saddle quite off of her back, +And were all got under her before they were up. + +At last the King mounts her, and then she stood still; +As his Bucephalus, proud of this rider, +She cheerfully yields to his power and skill +Who is careful to feed her, and skilful to guide her. + + + +Ballad: A Catch + + + +By Alex. Brome. A.D. 1660. + + +Let's leave off our labour, and now let's go play, +For this is our time to be jolly; +Our plagues and our plaguers are both fled away, +To nourish our griefs is but folly: +He that won't drink and sing +Is a traytor to's King, +And so he that does not look twenty years younger; +We'll look blythe and trim +With rejoicing at him +That is the restorer and will be the prolonger +Of all our felicity and health, +The joy of our hearts, and increase of our wealth. +'Tis he brings our trading, our trading brings riches, +Our riches brings honour, at which every mind itches, +And our riches bring sack, and our sack brings us joy, +And our joy makes us leap and sing, +Vive le Roy! + + + +Ballad: The Turn-Coat + + + +By Samuel Butler. 1661. + +Several lines in this song were incorporated in the better-known +ballad of the Vicar of Bray, said by Nichols in his Select Poems to +have been written by a soldier in Colonel Fuller's troop of +dragoons, in the reign of George I. Butler's ballad, though +unpublished, must therefore have been known at the time. + +To the tune of "London is a fine town." + + +I loved no King since forty-one, +When Prelacy went down; +A cloak and band I then put on +And preach'd against the crown. +A turn-coat is a cunning man +That cants to admiration, +And prays for any king to gain +The people's approbation. + +I show'd the paths to heaven untrod, +From Popery to refine 'em, +And taught the people to serve God, +As if the Devil were in 'em. +A turn-coat, etc. + +When Charles return'd into our land, +The English Church supporter, +I shifted off my cloak and band, +And so became a courtier. +A turn-coat, etc. + +The King's religion I profest, +And found there was no harm in 't; +I cogg'd and flatter'd like the rest, +Till I had got preferment. +A turn-coat, etc. + +I taught my conscience how to cope +With honesty or evil; +And when I rail'd against the Pope +I sided with the Devil. +A turn-coat, etc. + + + +Ballad: The Claret Drinker's Song + + + +Or The Good Fellow's Design. Being a pleasant song of the times, +written by a person of quality. - From the Roxburgh Ballads, Vol. +iii. + +Wine the most powerfull'st of all things on earth, +Which stifles cares and sorrows in their birth; +No treason in it harbours, nor can hate +Creep in when it bears away, to hurt the State. +Though storms grow high, so wine is to be got, +We are secure, their rage we value not; +The Muses cherish'd up such nectar, sing +Eternal joy to him that loves the King. + +To the tune of "Let Caesar live long." + + +A pox of the fooling and plotting of late, +What a pudder and stir has it kept in the State! +Let the rabble run mad with suspicions and fears, +Let 'em scuffle and rail till they go by the ears, - +Their grievances never shall trouble my pate, +So I but enjoy my dear bottle at quiet. + +What coxcombs were those that would ruin their case +And their necks for a toy, a thin wafer, and mass! +For at Tyburn they never had needed to swing +Had they been but true subjects to drink and their King: +A friend and a bottle is all my design, - +He's no room for treason that's top-full of wine. + +I mind not the members and makers of laws, +Let them sit or prorogue as his Majesty please; +Let 'em damn us to Woolen, I'le never repine +At my usage when dead, so alive I have wine; +Yet oft in my drink I can hardly forbear +To blame them for making my claret so dear. + +I mind not grave allies who idly debate +About rights and successions, the trifles of State; +We've a good King already, and he deserves laughter +That will trouble his head with who shall come after: +Come, here's to his health! and I wish he may be +As free from all cares and all troubles as we. + + +SECOND PART + + +What care I how leagues with Hollanders go, +Or intrigues 'twist Mounsieurs or Dons for to? +What concerns it my drinking if cities be sold, +If the conqueror takes them by storming or gold? +From whence claret comes is the place that I mind, +And when the fleet's coming I pray for a wind. + +The bully of France that aspires to renown +By dull cutting of throats, and by venturing his own; +Let him fight till he's ruined, make matches, and treat, +To afford us still news, the dull coffee-house cheat: +He's but a brave wretch, whilst that I am more free, +More safe, and a thousand times happier than he. + +In spite of him, or the Pope, or the Devil, +Or faggot, or fire, or the worst of hell's evil, +I still will drink healths to the lovers of wine, +Those jovial, brisk blades that do never repine; +I'll drink in defiance of napkin or halter, +Tho' religion turn round still, yet mine shall ne'er alter. + +But a health to good fellows shall still be my care, +And whilst wine it holds out, no bumpers we'll spare. +I'll subscribe to petitions for nothing but claret, +That that may be cheap, here's both my hands for it; +'Tis my province, and with it I only am pleased, +With the rest, scolding wives let poor cuckolds appease. + +No doubt 'tis the best of all drinks, or so soon +It ne'er had been chose by the Man in the Moon, (110) +Who drinks nothing else, both by night and by day +But claret, brisk claret, and most people say, +Whilst glasses brimful to the stars they go round, +Which makes them shine brighter with red juice still crown'd. + +For all things in Nature doe live by good drinking, +And he's a dull fool, and not worthy my thinking, +That does not prefer it before all the treasure +The Indies contain, or the sea without measure; +'Tis the life of good fellows, for without it they pine, +When nought can revive them but brimmers of wine. + +I know the refreshments that still it does bring, +Which have oftentimes made us as great as a king +In the midst of his armies where'er he is found, +Whilst the bottles and glasses I've muster'd round; +Who are Bacchus' warriors a conquest will gain +Without the least bloodshed, or wounded, or slain. + +Then here's a good health to all those that love peace, +Let plotters be damn'd and all quarrels now cease +Let me but have wine and I care for no more, +'Tis a treasure sufficient; there's none can be poor +That has Bacchus to's friend, for he laughs at all harm, +Whilst with high-proofed claret he does himself arm. + + +Printed for J. Jordan, at the Angel, Giltspur Street. + + + +Ballad: The Loyal Subjects' Hearty Wishes To King Charles II. + + + +From Sir W. C. Trevelyan's Broadsides in the British Museum. + +He that write these verses certainly +Did serve his royal father faithfully, +Likewise himself he served at Worcester fight, +And for his loyalty was put to flight. + +But had he a haid of hair like Absolom, +And every hair as strong as was Samson, +I'd venture all for Charles the Second's sake, +And for his Majesty my life forsake. + +To the tune "When Cannons are roaring." + + +FIRST PART. + + +True subjects, all rejoice +After long sadness, +And now with heart and voice +Show forth your gladness. +That to King Charles were true +And rebels hated, +This song only to you +Is dedicated; +For Charles our sovereign dear +Is safe returned +True subjects' hearts to cheer, +That long have mourned: +Then let us give God praise +That doth defend him, +And pray with heart and voice, +Angels, attend him. + +The dangers he hath past +From vile usurpers +Now bring him joy at last, +Although some lurkers +Did seek his blood to spill +By actions evil; +But God we see is still +Above the Devil: +Though many serpents hiss +Him to devour, +God his defender is +By His strong power: +Then let us give him praise +That doth defend him, +And sing with heart and voice, +Angels, defend him. + +The joy that he doth bring, +If true confessed, +The tongues of mortal men +Cannot confess it; +He cures our drooping fears, +Being long tormented, +And his true Cavaliers +Are well contented; +For now the Protestant +Again shall flourish; +The King our nursing father +He will us cherish: +Then let us give God praise +That did defend him, +And sing with heart and voice, +Angels, attend him. + +Like Moses, he is meek +And tender-hearted; +And by all means doth seek +To have foes converted; +But, like the Israelites, +There are a number +That for his love to them +'Gainst him doth murmur: +Read Exodus, - 'tis true +The Israelites rather +Yield to the Egyptian crew +Than Moses their father: +So many phanaticks, +With hearts disloyal, +Their hearts and minds do fix +'Gainst our King royal. + + +SECOND PART. + + +Like holy David, he +Past many troubles, +And by his constancy +His joys redoubles; +For now he doth bear sway +By God appointed, +For Holy Writ doth say, +Touch not mine Anointed. +He is God's anointed sure, +Who still doth guide him +In all his wayes most pure, +Though some divide him. +Then let us give God praise +That doth defend him, +And sing with heart and voice, +Angels, attend him. + +Many there are, we know, +Within this nation, +Lip-love to him do show +In 'simulation; +Of such vile hereticks +There are a number, +Whose hearts and tongues, we know, +Are far asunder; +Some do pray for the King +Being constrained; +Who lately against him +Greatly complained; +They turn both seat and seam +To cheat poor tailors, +But the fit place for them +Is under strong jailors. + +Let the King's foes admire +Who do reject him; +Seeing God doth him inspire, +And still direct him, +To heal those evil sores, +And them to cure +By his most gracious hand +And prayers pure. +Though simple people say +Doctors do as much, +None but our lawful King +Can cure with a touch; +As plainly hath been seen +Since he returned, - +Many have cured been +Which long have mourned. + +The poorest wretch that hath +This evil, sure +May have ease from the King +And perfect cure; +His Grace is meek and wise, +Loving and civil, +And to his enemies +Doth good for evil; +For some that were his foes +Were by him healed; +His liberal cause to bless +Is not concealed; +He heals both poor and rich +By God's great power, +And his most gracious touch +Doth them all cure. + +Then blush, you infidels, +That late did scorn him; +And you that did rebel, +Crave pardon of him; +With speed turn a new leaf +For your transgresses; +Hear what the preacher sayes +In Ecclesiastes, - +The Scripture's true, and shall +Ever be taught; +Curse not the King at all, +No, not in thy thought: +And holy Peter +Two commandments doth bring, - +Is first for to fear God, +And then honour the King. + +When that we had no King +To guide the nation, +Opinions up did spring +By toleration; +And many heresies +Were then advanced, +And cruel liberties +By old Noll granted. +Even able ministers +Were not esteemed; +Many false prophets +Good preachers were deemed. +The Church some hated; +A barn, house, or stable +Would serve the Quakers, +With their wicked rabble. + +And now for to conclude: +The God of power +Preserve and guide our King +Both day and hour; +That he may rule and reign +Our hearts to cherish; +And on his head, good Lord, +Let his crown flourish. +Let his true subjects sing +With hearts most loyal, +God bless and prosper still +Charles our King royal. +So now let's give God praise +That doth defend him, +And sing with heart and voice, +Angels defend him. + + +London, printed for John Andrews, at the White Lion, near Pye- +Court. + + + +Ballad: King Charles The Second's Restoration, 29th May. + + + +Tune, "Where have you been, my lovely sailor bold?" + + +You brave loyal Churchmen, +That ever stood by the crown, +Have you forgot that noble prince +Great Charles of high renown, +That from his rights was banish'd +By Presbyterians, who +Most cruelty his father kill'd? - +O cursed, damned crew! +So let the bells in steeples ring, +And music sweetly play, +That loyal Tories mayn't forget +The twenty-ninth of May. + +Twelve years was he banish'd +From what was his just due, +And forced to hide in fields and woods +From Presbyterian crew; +But God did preserve him, +As plainly you do see, +The blood-hounds did surround the oak +While he was in the tree. +So let, etc. + +As Providence would have it, +The hounds did lose their scent; +To spill the blood of this brave prince +It was their whole intent. +While that he was in exile, +The Church they pull'd down, +The Common-prayer they burnt, sir, +And trampled on the crown. +So let, etc. + +They plunder'd at their pleasure, +On lords' estates they seiz'd, +The bishops they did send away, +They did just as they pleas'd. +But General Monk at last rose up, +With valiant heart so bold, +Saying, that he no longer +By them would be controul'd. +So let, etc. + +So in great splendour +At last he did bring in, +Unto every Torie's joy, +Great Charles our sovereign. +Then loyal hearts so merry +The royal oak did wear, +While balconies with tapestry hung - +Nothing but joy was there. +So let, etc. + +The conduits they with wine did run, +The bonfires did blaze, +In every street likewise the skies +Did ring with loud huzzas, - +Saying, God bless our sovereign, +And send him long to reign, +Hoping the P-n crew +May never rule again. +So let, etc. + +Soon as great Charles +Our royal King was crown'd, +He built the Church up again, +The meetings were pull'd down. +No canting then was in the land, +The subjects were at peace, +The Church again did flourish, +And joy did then increase. +So let, etc. + +The cursed Presbyterian crew +Was then put to the flight, +Some did fly by day, +And others run by night. +In barns and stables they did cant, +And every place they could; +He made them remember +The spilling royal blood. +So let, etc. + +May God for ever +Bless the Church and Crown, +And never let any subject strive +The King for to dethrone. +May Churchmen ever flourish, +And peace increase again; +God for ever bless the King, +And send him long to reign. +So let, etc. + + + +Ballad: The Jubilee, Or The Coronation Day + + + +From Thomas Jordan's "ROYAL ARBOR OF LOYAL POESIE," 12mo, 1664. Mr +Chappell states - "As this consists of only two stanzas, and the +copy of the book, which is now in the possession of Mr Payne +Collier, is probably unique, they are here subjoined." + + +Let every man with tongue and pen +Rejoice that Charles is come agen, +To gain his sceptre and his throne, +And give to every man his own; +Let all men that be +Together agree, +And freely now express their joy; +Let your sweetest voices bring +Pleasant songs unto the King, +To crown his Coronation Day. + +All that do thread on English earth +Shall live in freedom, peace, and mirth; +The golden times are come that we +Did one day think we ne'er should see; +Protector and Rump +Did put us in a dump, +When they their colours did display; +But the time is come about, +We are in, and they are out, +By King Charles his Coronation Day. + + + +Ballad: The King Enjoys His Own Again + + + +(1661.) - From Hogg's Jacobite Relics. + + +Whigs are now such precious things, +We see there's not one to be found; +All roar "God bless and save the King!" +And his health goes briskly all day round. +To the soldier, cap in hand, the sneaking rascals stand, +And would put in for honest men; +But the King he well knows his friends from his foes, +And now he enjoys his own again. + +From this plot's first taking air, +Like lightning all the Whigs have run; +Nay, they've left their topping square, +To march off with our eldest son: +They've left their 'states and wives to save their precious lives, +Yet who can blame their flying, when +'Twas plain to them all, the great and the small, +That the King would have his own again? + +This may chance a warning be +(If e'er the saints will warning take) +To leave off hatching villany, +Since they've seen their brother at the stake: +And more must mounted be (which God grant we may see), +Since juries now are honest men: +And the King lets them swing with a hey ding a ding, +Great James enjoys his own again. + +Since they have voted that his Guards +A nuisance were, which now they find, +Since they stand between the King +And the treason that such dogs design'd; +'Tis they will you maul, though it cost them a fall, +In spight of your most mighty men; +For now they are alarm'd, and all Loyalists well arm'd, +Since the King enjoys his own again. + +To the King, come, bumpers round, +Let's drink, my boys, while life doth last: +He that at the core's not sound +Shall be kick'd out without a taste. +We'll fear no disgrace, but look traitors in the face, +Since we're case-harden'd, honest men; +Which makes their crew mad, but us loyal hearts full glad, +That the King enjoys his own again. + + + +Ballad: A Country Song, Intituled The Restoration + + + +(May, 1661.) - From the twentieth volume of the folio broadsides, +King's Pamphlets. + + +Come, come away +To the temple, and pray, +And sing with a pleasant strain; +The schismatick's dead, +The liturgy's read, +And the King enjoyes his own again. + +The vicar is glad, +The clerk is not sad, +And the parish cannot refrain +To leap and rejoyce +And lift up their voyce, +That the King enjoyes his own again. + +The country doth bow +To old justices now, +That long aside have been lain; +The bishop's restored, +God is rightly adored, +And the King enjoyes his own again. + +Committee-men fall, +And majors-generall, +No more doe those tyrants reign; +There's no sequestration, +Nor new decimation, +For the King enjoyes the sword again. + +The scholar doth look +With joy on his book, +Tom whistles and plows amain; +Soldiers plunder no more +As they did heretofore, +For the King enjoyes the sword again. + +The citizens trade, +The merchants do lade, +And send their ships into Spain; +No pirates at sea +To make them a prey, +For the King enjoyes the sword again. + +The old man and boy, +The clergy and lay, +Their joyes cannot contain; +'Tis better than of late +With the Church and the State, +Now the King enjoyes the sword again. + +Let's render our praise +For these happy dayes +To God and our sovereign; +Your drinking give ore, +Swear not as before, +For the King bears not the sword in vain. + +Fanaticks, be quiet, +And keep a good diet, +To cure your crazy brain; +Throw off your disguise, +Go to church and be wise, +For the King bears not the sword in vain. + +Let faction and pride +Be now laid aside, +That truth and peace may reign; +Let every one mend, +And there is an end, +For the King bears not the sword in vain. + + + +Ballad: Here's A Health Unto His Majesty + + + +There is only one verse to this Song. The music is arranged for +three voices in "Playford's Musical Companion, 1667." + + +Here's a health unto his Majesty, +With a fal la la la la la la, +Confusion to his enemies, +With a fal lal la la la la la la. +And he that will not drink his health, +I wish him neither wit nor wealth, +Nor but a rope to hang himself. +With a fal lal la la la la la la la la, +With a fal lal la la la la la. + + + +Ballad: The Whigs Drowned In An Honest Tory Health + + + +From Col. 180 Loyal Songs. + +Tune, "Hark, the thundering canons roar." + + +Wealth breeds care, love, hope, and fear; +What does love or bus'ness here? +While Bacchus' navy doth appear, +Fight on and fear not sinking; +Fill it briskly to the brim, +Till the flying top-sails swim, +We owe the first discovery to him +Of this great world of drinking. + +Brave Cabals, who states refine, +Mingle their debates with wine, +Ceres and the god o' th' vine +Make every great commander; +Let sober Scots small beer subdue, +The wise and valiant wine do woo, +The Stagerite had the horrors too, +To be drunk with Alexander. + +STAND TO YOUR ARMS! and now advance, +A health to the English King of France; +And to the next of boon esperance, +By Bacchus and Apollo; +Thus in state I lead the van, +Fall in your place by the right-hand man, +Beat drum! march on! dub a dub, ran dan! +He's a Whig that will not follow. + +Face about to the right again, +Britain's admiral of the main, +York and his illustrious train +Crown the day's conclusion; +Let a halter stop his throat +Who brought in the foremost vote, +And of all that did promote +The mystery of exclusion. + +Next to Denmark's warlike prince +Let the following health commence, +To the nymph whose influence +That brought the hero hither; - +May their race the tribe annoy, +Who the Grandsire would destroy, +And get every year a boy +Whilst they live together. + +To the royal family +Let us close in bumpers three, +May the ax and halter be +The pledge of every Roundhead; +To all loyal hearts pursue, +Who to the monarch dare prove true; +But for him they call True Blue, +Let him be confounded. + + + +Ballad: The Cavalier + + + +By Alex. Brome. - (1661-2.) + + +We have ventured our estates, +And our liberties and lives, +For our master and his mates, +And been toss'd by cruel fates +Where the rebellious Devil drives, +So that not one of ten survives; +We have laid all at stake +For his Majesty's sake; +We have fought, we have paid, +We've been sold and betray'd, +And tumbled from nation to nation; +But now those are thrown down +That usurped the Crown, +Our hopes were that we +All rewarded should be, +But we're paid with a Proclamation. + +Now the times are turn'd about, +And the rebels' race is run; +That many-headed beast the Rout, +That did turn the Father out, +When they saw they were undone, +Were for bringing in the son. +That phanatical crew, +Which made us all rue, +Have got so much wealth +By their plunder and stealth +That they creep into profit and power: +And so come what will, +They'll be uppermost still; +And we that are low +Shall still be kept so, +While those domineer and devour. + +Yet we will be loyal still, +And serve without reward or hire: +To be redeem'd from so much ill, +May stay our stomachs, though not still, +And if our patience do not tire, +We may in time have our desire. + + + +Ballad: The Lamentation Of A Bad Market, Or The Disbanded Souldier + + + +(July 17th, 1660.) - From the King's Pamphlets, British Museum. + +This ballad relates to the disbanding of the Parliamentary army. +Contrary, however, to what is pretended in it, says Mr. Wright, in +his volume printed for the Percy Society, the writers of the time +mention with admiration the good conduct of the soldiers after they +were disbanded, each betaking himself to some honest trade or +calling, with as much readiness as if he had never been employed in +any other way. Not many weeks before the date of the present +ballad, a prose tract had been published, with the same title, "The +Lamentation of a Bad Market, or Knaves and Fools foully foyled, and +fallen into a Pit of their own digging," &c. March 21st, 1659-60. + + +In red-coat raggs attired, +I wander up and down, +Since fate and foes conspired, +Thus to array me, +Or betray me +To the harsh censure of the town. +My buffe doth make me boots, my velvet coat and scarlet, +Which used to do me credit with many a wicked harlot, +Have bid me all adieu, most despicable varlet! +Alas, poor souldier, whither wilt thou march? + +I've been in France and Holland, +Guided by my starrs; +I've been in Spain and Poland, +I've been in Hungarie, +In Greece and Italy, +And served them in all their wars. +Britain these eighteen years has known my desperate slaughter, +I've killed ten at one blow, even in a fit of laughter, +Gone home again and smiled, and kiss'd my landlor's daughter; +Alas! poor souldier, etc. + +My valour prevailed, +Meeting with my foes, +Which strongly we assailed; +Oh! strange I wondred, +They were a hundred; +Yet I routed them with few blowes. +This fauchion by my side has kind more men, I'll swear it, +Than Ajax ever did, alas! he ne'er came near it, +Yea, more than Priam's boy, or all that ere did hear it. +Alas! poor souldier, etc. + +For King and Parliament +I was Prester John. +Devout was my intent; +I haunted meetings, +Used zealous greetings, +Crept full of devotion; +Smectymnuus won me first, then holy Nye prevail, (111) +Then Captain Kiffin (112) slops me with John of Leyden's tail, +Then Fox and Naylor bangs me with Jacob Beamond's flail. (113) +Alas! poor souldier, etc. + +I did about this nation +Hold forth my gifts and teach, +Maintained the tolleration +The common story +And Directory +I damn'd with the word "preach." +Time was when all trades failed, men counterfeitly zealous +Turn'd whining, snievling praters, or kept a country ale-house, +Got handsome wives, turn'd cuckolds, howe'er were very jealous. +Alas! poor souldier, etc. + +The world doth know me well, +I ne're did peace desire, +Because I could not tell +Of what behaviour +I should savour +In a field of thundring fire. +When we had murdered King, confounded Church and State, +Divided parks and forests, houses, money, plate, +We then did peace desire, to keep what he had gat. +Alas! poor souldier, etc. + +Surplice was surplisage, +We voted right or wrong, +Within that furious age, +Of the painted glass, +Or pictured brass, +And liturgie we made a song. +Bishops, and bishops' lands, were superstitious words, +Until in souldiers' hands, and so were kings and lords, +But in fashion now again in spight of all our swords. +Alas! poor souldier, etc. + +Some say I am forsaken +By the great men of these times, +And they're no whit mistaken; +It is my fate +To be out of date, +My masters most are guilty of such crimes. +Like an old Almanack, I now but represent +How long since Edge-Hill fight, or the rising was in Kent, +Or since the dissolution of the first Long Parliament. +Alas! poor souldier, etc. + +Good sirs, what shall I fancie, +Amidst these gloomy dayes? +Shall I goe court brown Nancy? +In a countrey town +They'l call me clown, +If I sing them my outlandish playes. +Let me inform their nodle with my heroick spirit, +My language and worth besides transcend unto merit; +They'l not believe one word, what mortal flesh can bear it? +Alas! poor souldier, etc. + +Into the countrey places +I resolve to goe, +Amongst those sun-burnt faces +I'le goe to plough +Or keep a cow, +'Tis that my masters now again must do. +Souldiers ye see will be of each religion, +They're but like stars, which when the true sun rise they're gon. +I'le to the countrey goe, and there I'le serve Sir John; +Aye, aye, 'tis thither, and thither will I goe. + + +London, printed for Charles Gustavus, 1660. + + + +Ballad: The Courtier's Health; Or, The Merry Boys Of The Times + + + +(A.D. 1672.) - From the Roxburgh Ballads, Vol. ii. To the tune of +"Come, Boys, fill us a Bumper." + + +Come, boys, fill us a bumper, +Wee'l make the nation roar, +She's grown sick of a RUMPER, +That sticks on the old score. +Pox on phanaticks, rout 'um, +They thirst for our blood; +Wee'l taxes raise without 'um, +And drink for the nation's good. +Fill the pottles and the gallons, +And bring the hogshead in, +Wee'l begin with a tallen, +A brimmer to the King. + +Round, around, fill a fresh one, +Let no man bawk his wine, +Wee'l drink to the next in succession, +And keep it in the right line. +Bring us ten thousand glasses, +The more we drink we're dry; +We mind not the beautiful lasses, +Whose conquest lyes all in the eye. +Fill the pottles, etc. + +We boys are truly loyal, +For Charles wee'l venture all, +We know his blood is royal, +His name shall never fall. +But those that seek his ruine +May chance to dye before him, +While we that sacks are woeing +For ever will adore him. +Fill the pottles, etc. + +I hate those strange dissenters +That strives to hawk a glass, +He that at all adventures +Will see what comes to pass: +And let the Popish nation +Disturb us if they can, +They ne'er shall breed distraction +In a true-hearted man. +Fill the pottles, etc. + +Let the fanatics grumble +To see things cross their grain, +Wee'l make them now more humble +Or ease them of their pain: +They shall drink sack amain too, +Or they shall be choak't; +Wee'l tell 'um 'tis in vain too +For us to be provok't. +Fill the pottles, etc. + +He that denyes the brimmer +Shall banish'd be in this isle, +And we will look more grimmer +Till he begins to smile: +Wee'l drown him in Canary, +And make him all our own, +And when his heart is merry +Hee'l drink to Charles on's throne. +Fill the pottles, etc. + +Quakers and Anabaptists, +Wee'l sink them in a glass; +He deals most plain and flattest +That sayes he loves a lass: +Then tumble down Canary, +And let our brains go round, +For he that won't be merry +He can't at heart be sound. +Fill the pottles, etc. + + +Printed for P. Brooksly, at the Golden Ball in West Smithfield, +1672. + + + +Ballad: The Loyal Tories' Delight; Or A Pill For Fanaticks + + + +Being a most pleasant and new song. + +1680. - From the Roxburgh Ballads, Vol. iii., fol. 911. + +To the tune of "Great York has been debar'd of late, etc." + + +Great York has been debar'd of late +From Court by some accursed fate; +But ere long, we do not fear, +We shall have him, have him here, +We shall have him, have him here. + +The makers of the plot we see, +By damn'd old TONY'S treachery, +How they would have brought it about, +To have given great York the rout, +To have given, etc. + +God preserve our gracious King, +And safe tydings to us bring, +Defend us from the SHAM BLACK BOX, (114) +And all damn'd fanatick plots, +And all damn'd, etc. + +Here Charles's health I drink to thee, +And with him all prosperity; +God grant that he long time may reign, +To bring us home great York again, +To bring us home, etc. + +That he, in spight of all his foes +Who loyalty and laws oppose, +May long remain in health and peace, +Whilst plots and plotters all shall cease, +Whilst plots, etc. + +Let Whigs go down to Erebus, +And not stay here to trouble us +With noisy cant and needless fear, +Of ills to come they know not where, +Of ills to come, etc. + +When our chief trouble they create, +For plain we see what they'd be at; +Could they but push great York once down +They'd next attempt to snatch the crown, +They'd next attempt, etc. + +But Heaven preserve our gracious King, +May all good subjects loudly sing; +And Royal James preserve likewise, +From such as do against him rise, +From such as do, etc. + +Then come, again fill round our glass, +And, loyal Tories, less it pass, +Fill up, fill up unto the brim, +And let each boule with necture swim, +And let each boule, etc. + +Though CLOAKMEN, that seem much precise, +'Gainst wine exclaim with turn'd-up eyes; +Yet in a corner they'l be drunk, +With drinking healths unto the Rump, +With drinking, etc. + +In hopes that once more they shall tear +Both Church and State, which is their prayer; +But Heaven does yet protect the throne, +Whilst Tyburn for such slaves does groan, +Whilst Tyburn, etc. + +For now 'tis plain, most men abhor, +What some so strongly voted for; +Great York in favour does remain, +In spight of all the Whiggish train, +In spight of all, etc. + +And now the OLD CAUSE goes to wrack, +Sedition mauger cloath in black +Do greatly dread the triple tree, +Whilst we rejoyce in loyalty, +Whilst we rejoyce, etc. + +Then come, let's take another round, +And still in loyalty abound, +And wish our King he long may reign +To bring us home great York again, +To bring us home great York again. + + + +Ballad: The Royal Admiral + + + +Miss Strickland quotes this ballad in her Lives of the Queens of +England, and states that this was the first Jacobite song that was +written and set to music. + + +Let Titus (115) and Patience (116) stir up a commotion, +Their plotting and swearing shall prosper no more; +Now gallant old Jamie commands on the ocean, +And mighty Charles keeps them in awe on the shore. + +Jamie the Valiant, the Champion Royal, +His own and the monarchy's rival withstood; +The bane and the terror of those the disloyal, +Who slew his loved father and thirst for his blood. + +York, the great admiral, - Ocean's defender, +The joy of our navy, the dread of its foes, +The lawful successor, - what upstart pretender +Shall dare, in our isle, the true heir to oppose? + +Jamie quelled the proud foe on the ocean, +And rode the sole conqueror over the main; +To this gallant hero let all pay devotion, +For England her admiral sees him again. + + + +Ballad: The Unfortunate Whigs + + + +1682. - From the Roxburgh Ballads. + +To the tune of "The King enjoys his own," &c. + + +The Whigs are but small, and of no good race, +And are beloved by very few; +Old TONY broach'd his tap in every place, +To encourage all his factious crew. +At some great houses in this town, +The Whigs of high renown, +And all with a true blue was their stain; +For since it is so, +They have wrought their overthrow, +Old Tony WILL NE'R ENJOY HIS OWN, AGAIN. + +They all owne duty to their lawful prince, +And loyal subjects should have been; +But their duty is worn out long since, +By the ASSOCIATION seen. +But these are the Whigs, +That have cut off some legs, +And fain would be at that sport amain; +For since it is so, +They have wrought their overthrow, +Old Tony WILL NE'R ENJOY HIS OWN AGAIN. + +And yet they are sham-pretenders, +And they swear they'll support our laws; +These be the great defenders of +IGNORAMUS and the OLD CAUSE: +They'll defend the King +By swearing of the thing, +These are the cursed rogues in grain; +For since it is so, +They have wrought their overthrow, +Old Tony WILL NE'R ENJOY HIS OWN AGAIN. + +The true religion that shall down, +Which so long has won the day, +And COMMON-PRAYER i'th' church of ev'ry town, +If that the Whigs could but bear the sway: +For Oates he does begin +Now for to bring them in, +As when he came mumping from Spain; +For since it is so, +They have wrought their overthrow, +Old Tony WILL NE'R ENJOY HIS OWN AGAIN. + +How all their shamming plots they would hide, +Yet they are ignorant, they say, +When as Old TONY he was try'd +And brought off with IGNORAMUS sway: +When Oates he was dumb +And could not use his tongue, +This is the shamming rogues in grain; +For since it is so, +They have wrought their overthrow, +Old Tony WILL NE'R ENJOY HIS OWN AGAIN. + +Then let all true subjects sing, +And damn the power of all those +That won't show loyalty to their King, +And assist him against his Whiggish foes. +Then in this our happy state, +In spight of traytors' hate, +We will all loyal still remain; +For since it is so, +They have wrought their overthrow, +Old Tony WILL NE'R ENJOY HIS OWN AGAIN. + +God preserve our gracious King, +With the Royal Consort of his bed, +And let all loyal subjects sing +That the crown may remain on Charles's head; +For we will drink his health +In spight of COMMON-WEALTH, +And his lawful rights we will maintain; +For since it is so, +They have wrought their overthrow, +Old Tony WILL NE'R ENJOY HIS OWN AGAIN. + + +Printed for S. Maurel, in the year 1682. + + + +Ballad: The Downfall Of The Good Old Cause + + + +From a "Collection of One Hundred and Eighty Loyal Songs, all +written since 1678," and published London, 1694. [Fourth Edition.] + +Tune, - "Hey, Boys, up go we." + + +Now the Bad Old Cause is tapt, +And the vessel standeth stoop'd; +The cooper may starve for want of work, +For the cask shall never be hoop'd; - +We will burn the Association, +The Covenant and vow, +The public cheat of the nation, +Anthony, now, now, now + +No fanatick shall bear the sway +In court, city, or town, +These good kingdoms to betray, +And cry the right line down; - +Let them cry they love the King, +Yet if they hate his brother, +Remember Charles they murdered, +And so they would the other. + +Weavers and such like fellows +In pulpit daily prate, +Like the Covenanters, +Against the Church and State: +Yet they cry they love the King, +But their baseness will discover; +Charles the First they murdered, +And so they would the other. + +When these fellows go to drink, +In city or in town, +They vilify the bishops +And they cry the Stuarts down: +Still they cry they love the King, +But their baseness I'll discover; +Charles the First they murdered, +And so they would the other. + +When the King wanted money, +Poor Tangier to relieve, +They cry'd down his revenue, +Not a penny they would give: +Still they cry'd they loved the King, +But their baseness I'll discover; +Charles the First they murdered, +And so they would the other. + +The noble Marquis of Worcester, +And many such brave lord, +By the King-killing crew +They daily are abhor'd, +And called evil councellors, +When the truth they did discover; +And Charles the First they murdered, +And so they would the other. + +The Papists they would kill the King, +But the Phanaticks did; +Their perjuries and treacheries +Aren't to be parallel'd: +Let them cry they love the King, +Their faults I will discover; +Charles the First they murdered, +And so they would the other. + +Charles the Second stands on's guard, +Like a good politick King; +The Phanaticks ought to be abhor'd +For all their flattering: +Let them cry they love the King, +Their faults I will discover; +Charles the First they murdered, +And so they would the other. + +Now let us all good subjects be, +That bear a loyal heart; +Stand fast for the King +And each man act his part; +And to support his Sovereign, +Religion, and the laws, +That formerly were established, +And down with the cursed cause. + + + +Ballad: Old Jemmy + + + +From a "Collection of 180 Loyal Songs," written since 1678. This +is a parody on the Whig song, "Young Jemmy is a lad that's royally +descended," written in celebration of the Duke of Monmouth. Old +Jemmy is the Duke of York, afterwards James II. + +To the tune of "Young Jemmy." + + +Old Jemmy is a lad +Right lawfully descended; +No bastard born nor bred, +Nor for a Whig suspended; +The true and lawful heir to th' crown +By right of birth and laws, +And bravely will maintain his own +In spight of all his foes. + +Old Jemmy is the top +And chief among the princes; +No MOBILE gay fop, +With Birmingham pretences; +A heart and soul so wondrous great, +And such a conquering eye, +That every loyal lad fears not +In Jemmy's cause to die. + +Old Jemmy is a prince +Of noble resolutions, +Whose powerful influence +Can order our confusions; +But oh! he fights with such a grace +No force can him withstand, +No god of war but must give place +When Jemmy leads the van. + +To Jemmy every swain +Does pay due veneration, +And Scotland does maintain +His title to the nation; +The pride of all the court he stands, +The patron of his cause, +The joy and hope of all his friends, +And terror of his foes. + +Maliciously they vote +To work Old Jemmy's ruin, +And zealously promote +A Bill for his undoing; +Both Lords and Commons most agree +To pull his Highness down, +But (spight of all their policy) +Old Jemmy's heir to th' crown. + +The schismatick and saint, +The Baptist and the Atheist, +Swear by the Covenant, +Old Jemmy is a Papist: +Whilst all the holy crew did plot +To pull his Highness down, +Great Albany, a noble Scot +Did raise unto a crown. + +Great Albany, they swear, +He before any other +Shall be immediate heir +Unto his royal brother; +Who will, in spight of all his foes, +His lawful rights maintain, +And all the fops that interpose +Old Jemmy's York again. + +The Whigs and zealots plot +To banish him the nation, +But the renowned Scot +Hath wrought his restoration: +With high respects they treat his Grace, +His royal cause maintain; +Brave Albany (to Scotland's praise) +Is mighty York again. + +Against his envious fates +The Kirk hath taught a lesson, +A blessing on the States, +To settle the succession; +They real were, both knight and lord, +And will his right maintain, +By royal Parliament restored, +Old Jemmy's come again. + +And now he's come again, +In spight of all Pretenders; +Great Albany shall reign, +Amongst the Faith's defenders. +Let Whig and Birmingham repine, +They show their teeth in vain, +The glory of the British line, +Old Jemmy's come again. + + + +Ballad: The Cloak's Knavery + + + +From "Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Purge Melancholy; being a +Collection of the best merry Ballads and Songs, old and new." +London, 1714. + + +Come buy my new ballad, +I have't in my wallet, +But 'twill not I fear please every pallate; +Then mark what ensu'th, +I swear by my youth +That every line in my ballad is truth. +A ballad of wit, a ballad of worth, +'Tis newly printed and newly come forth; +'Twas made of a cloak that fell out with a gown, +That cramp'd all the kingdom and crippled the crown. + +I'll tell you in brief +A story of grief, +Which happen'd when Cloak was Commander-in-chief; +It tore common prayers, +Imprison'd lord mayors, +In one day it voted down prelates and prayers; +It made people perjured in point of obedience, +And the Covenant did cut off the oath of allegiance. +Then let us endeavour to pull the Cloak down +That cramp'd all the kingdom and crippled the crown. + +It was a black Cloke, +In good time be it spoke, +That kill'd many thousands but never struck stroke; +With hatchet and rope +The forlorn hope +Did join with the Devil to pull down the Pope; +It set all the sects in the city to work, +And rather than fail 'twould have brought in the Turk. +Then let us endeavour, etc. + +It seized on the tower-guns, +Those fierce demi-gorgons, +It brought in the bag-pipes, and brought in the organs; +The pulpits did smoke, +The churches did choke, +And all our religion was turn'd to a cloak. +It brought in lay-elders could not write nor read, +It set public faith up and pull'd down the creed. +Then let us endeavour, etc. + +This pious impostor +Such fury did foster, +It left us no penny nor no PATER-NOSTER; +It threw to the ground +The commandments down, +And set up twice twenty times ten of its own; +It routed the King and villains elected, +To plunder all those whom they thought disaffected. +Then let us endeavour, etc. + +To blind people's eyes +This Cloak was so wise, +It took off ship-money, but set up excise; +Men brought in their plate +For reasons of state, +And gave it to Tom Trumpeter and his mate. +In pamphlets it writ many specious epistles, +To cozen poor wenches of bodkins and whistles. +Then let us endeavour, etc. + +In pulpits it moved, +And was much approved +For crying out, FIGHT THE LORD'S BATTLES, BELOVED; +It bob-tayled the gown, +Put Prelacy down, +It trod on the mitre to reach at the crown; +And into the field it an army did bring, +To aim at the council but shoot at the King. +Then let us endeavour, etc. + +It raised up States +Whose politic fates +Do now keep their quarters on the city gates. +To father and mother, +To sister and brother, +It gave a commission to kill one another. +It took up men's horses at very low rates, +And plunder'd our goods to secure our estates. +Then let us endeavour, etc. + +This Cloak did proceed +To damnable deed, +It made the best mirror of majesty bleed; +Tho' Cloak did not do't, +He set it on foot, +By rallying and calling his journeymen to't. +For never had come such a bloody disaster, +If Cloak had not first drawn a sword at his master. +Then let us endeavour, etc. + +Tho' some of them went hence +By sorrowful sentence, +This lofty long Cloak is not moved to repentance; +But he and his men, +Twenty thousand times ten, +Are plotting to do their tricks over again. +But let this proud Cloak to authority stoop, +Or DUN will provide him a button and loop. +Then let us endeavour to pull the Cloak down +That basely did sever the head from the crown. + +Let's pray that the King +And his Parliament +In sacred and secular things may consent; +So righteously firm, +And religiously free, +That Papists and Atheists suppressed may be. +And as there's one Deity does over-reign us, +One faith and one form and one Church may contain us. +Then peace, truth, and plenty our kingdom will crown, +And all Popish plots and their plotters shall down. + + + +Ballad: The Time-Server, Or A Medley + + + +From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society, and +edited by J. O. Halliwell. + + +Room for a gamester that plays at all he sees, +Whose fickle fancy suits such times as these, +One that says Amen to every factious prayer, +From Hugh Peters' pulpit to St Peter's chair; +One that doth defy the Crozier and the Crown, +But yet can house with blades that carouse, +Whilst pottle pots tumble down, derry down, +One that can comply with surplice and with cloak, +Yet for his end can independ +Whilst Presbyterian broke Brittain's yoke. + +This is the way to trample without trembling, +Tis the sycophant's only secure. +Covenants and oaths are badges of dissembling, +'Tis the politick pulls down the pure. +To profess and betray, to plunder and pray, +Is the only ready way to be great; +Flattery doth the feat; +Ne'er go, ne'er stir, sir - will venture further +Than the greatest dons in the town, +From a coffer to a crown. + +I'm in a temperate humour now to think well, +Now I'm in another humour for to drink well, +Then fill us up a beer-bowl, boys, that we +May drink it, drink it merrily; +No knavish spy shall understand, +For, if it should be known, +'Tis ten to one we shall be trepanned. + +I'll drink to them a brace of quarts, +Whose anagram is call'd true hearts; +If all were well, as I would ha't, +And Britain cured of its tumour, +I should very well like my fate, +And drink my sack at a cheaper rate, +Without any noise or rumour, +Oh then I should fix my humour. + +But since 'tis no such matter, change your hue, +I may cog and flatter, so may you; +Religion is a widgeon, and reason is treason, +And he that hath a loyal heart may bid the world adieu. + +We must be like the Scottish man, +Who, with intent to beat down schism, +Brought in the Presbyterian +With canon and with catechism. +If beuk wont do't, then Jockey shoot, +For the Church of Scotland doth command; +And what hath been since they came in +I think we have cause to understand. + + + +Ballad: The Soldier's Delight + + + +(Made in the late times.) + +From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society, and +edited by J. O. Halliwell. + + +Fair Phydelia, tempt no more, +I may not now thy beauty so adore, +Nor offer to thy shrine; +I serve one more divine +And greater far than you: +Hark! the trumpet calls away, +We must go, lest the foe +Get the field and win the day; +Then march bravely on, +Charge them in the van, +Our cause God's is, though the odds is +Ten times ten to one. + +Tempt no more, I may not yield, +Although thine eyes a kingdom may surprise; +Leave off thy wanton tales, +The high-born Prince of Wales +Is mounted in the field, +Where the loyal gentry flock, +Though forlorn, nobly born, +Of a ne'er-decaying stock; +Cavaliers, be bold, ne'er let go your hold, +Those that loiters are by traitors +Dearly bought and sold. + +PHYDELIA. - One kiss more, and so farewell. +SOLDIER. - Fie, no more! I prithee fool give o'er; +Why cloud'st thou thus thy beams? +I see by these extremes, +A woman's heaven or hell. +Pray the King may have his own, +That the Queen may be seen +With her babes on England's throne; +Rally up your men, one shall vanquish ten, +Victory, we come to try our valour once again. + + + +Ballad: The Loyal Soldier + + + +From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society, and +edited by J. O. Halliwell. + + +When in the field of Mars we lie, +Amongst those martial wights, +Who, never daunted, are to dye +For King and countrie's rights; +As on Belona's god I wait, +And her attendant be, +Yet, being absent from my mate, +I live in misery. + +When lofty winds aloud do blow, +It snoweth, hail, or rain, +And Charon in his boat doth row, +Yet stedfast I'll remain; +And for my shelter in some barn creep, +Or under some hedge lye; +Whilst such as do now strong castles keep +Knows no such misery. + +When down in straw we tumbling lye, +With Morpheus' charms asleep, +My heavy, sad, and mournful eye +In security so deep; +Then do I dream within my arms +With thee I sleeping lye, +Then do I dread or fear no harms, +Nor feel no misery. + +When all my joys are thus compleat, +The canons loud do play, +The drums alarum straight do beat, +Trumpet sounds, horse, away! +Awake I then, and nought can find +But death attending me, +And all my joys are vanisht quite, - +This is my misery. + +When hunger oftentimes I feel, +And water cold do drink, +Yet from my colours I'le not steal, +Nor from my King will shrink; +No traytor base shall make me yield, +But for the cause I'le be: +This is my love, pray Heaven to shield, +And farewell misery. + +Then to our arms we straight do fly, +And forthwith march away; +Few towns or cities we come nigh +Good liquor us deny; +In Lethe deep our woes we steep - +Our loves forgotten be, +Amongst the jovialst we sing, +Hang up all misery. + +Propitious fate, then be more kind, +Grim death, lend me thy dart, +O sun and moon, and eke the wind, +Great Jove, take thou our part; +That of these Roundheads and these wars +An end that we may see, +And thy great name we'll all applaud, +And hang all misery. + + + +Ballad: The Polititian + + + +Upon an act of Treason made by the Rebels, etc. + +From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society, and +edited by J. O. Halliwell. + + +But since it was lately enacted high treason +For a man to speak truth 'gainst the head of a state, +Let every wise man make a use of his reason +To think what he will, but take heed what he prate; +For the proverb doth learn us, +He that stays from the battel sleeps in a whole skin, +And our words are our own if we keep them within, +What fools are we then that to prattle do begin +Of things that do not concern us! + +'Tis no matter to me whoe'er gets the battle, +The rubs or the crosses, 'tis all one to me; +It neither increaseth my goods nor my cattle; +A beggar's a beggar, and so he shall be +Unless he turn traitor. +Let misers take courses to hoard up their treasure, +Whose bounds have no limits, whose minds have no measure, +Let me be but quiet and take a little pleasure, +A little contents my own nature. + +But what if the kingdom returns to the prime ones? +My mind is a kingdom, and so it shall be; +I'll make it appear, if I had but the time once, +He's as happy in one as they are in three, +If he might but enjoy it. +He that's mounted aloft is a mark for the fate, +And an envy to every pragmatical pate, +Whilst he that is low is safe in his estate, +And the great ones do scorn to annoy him. + +I count him no wit that is gifted in rayling +And flurting at those that above him do sit; +Whilst they do outwit him with whipping and jailing, +His purse and his person must pay for his wit. +But 'tis better to be drinking; +If sack were reform'd to twelve-pence a quart +I'd study for money to merchandise for't, +With a friend that is willing in mirth we would sport; +Not a word, but we'd pay it with thinking. + +My petition shall be that Canary be cheaper, +Without either custom or cursed excise; +That the wits may have freedom to drink deeper and deeper, +And not be undone whilst our noses we baptize; +But we'll liquor them and drench them. +If this were but granted, who would not desire +To dub himself one of Apollo's own quire? +And then we will drink whilst our noses are on fire, +And the quart pots shall be buckets to quench them. + + + +Ballad: A New Droll + + + +From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Edited by J. O. Halliwell. + + +Come let's drink, the time invites, +Winter and cold weather; +For to spend away long nights, +And to keep good wits together. +Better far than cards or dice, +Isaac's balls are quaint device, +Made up with fan and feather. + +Of strange actions on the seas +Why should we be jealous? +Bring us liquor that will please, +And will make us braver fellows +Than the bold Venetian fleet, +When the Turks and they do meet +Within their Dardanellos. + +Valentian, that famous town, +Stood the French man's wonder; +Water they employ'd to drown, +So to cut their troops assunder; +Turein gave a helpless look, +While the lofty Spaniard took +La Ferta and his plunder. + +As for water, we disclaim +Mankind's adversary; +Once it caused the world's whole frame +In the deluge to miscarry; +And that enemy of joy +Which sought our freedom to destroy +And murder good Canary. + +We that drink have no such thoughts, +Black and void of reason: +We take care to fill our vaults +With good wine of every season; +And with many a chirping cup +We blow one another up, +And that's our only treason. + +Hear the squibs and mind the bells, +The fifth of November; +The parson a sad story tells, +And with horror doth remember +How some hot-brain'd traitor wrought +Plots that would have ruin brought +To King and every member. + + + +Ballad: The Royalist + + + +A song made in the Rebellion. + +From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society, and +edited by J. O. Halliwell. + + +Stay, shut the gate! +T'other quart, boys, 'tis not so late +As you are thinking; +The stars which you see in the hemisphere be +Are but studs in your cheeks by good drinking; +The sun's gone to tipple all night in the sea, boys, +To-morrow he'll blush that he's paler than we, boys; +Drink wine, give him water, +'Tis sack makes us the boys. + +Fill up the glass, +To the next merry lad let it pass; +Come, away wi't; +Let's set foot to foot and but give our minds to't, +'Tis heretical sir, that doth slay wit; +Then hang up good faces, let's drink till our noses +Give's freedom to speak what our fancy disposes, +Beneath whose protection now under the rose is. + +Drink off your bowl, +'Twill enrich both your head and your soul with Canary; +For a carbuncled face saves a tedious race, +And the Indies about us we carry; +No Helicon like to the juice of good wine is, +For Phoebus had never had wit that divine is, +Had his face not been bow-dy'd as thine is and mine is. + +This must go round, +Off with your hats till the pavement be crown'd with your beavers; +A red-coated face frights a sergeant and his mace, +Whilst the constables tremble to shivers. +In state march our faces like some of that quorum, +While the. . . . do fall down and the vulgar adore 'um, +And our noses like link-boys run shining before 'um. + + + +Ballad: The Royalist's Resolve + + + +From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society. + + +Come, drawer, some wine, +Or we'll pull down the sign, +For we are all jovial compounders; +We'll make the house ring +With healths to our King, +And confusion light on his confounders. + +Since former committee +Afforded no pity, +Our sorrows in wine we will steep 'um; +They force us to take +Two oaths, but we'll make +A third, that we ne'er mean to keep 'um. + +And next, whoe'er sees, +We'll drink on our knees +To the King; may he thirst that repines: +A fig for those traytors +That look to our waters, +They have nothing to do with our wines. + +And next here's three bowls +To all gallant souls +That for the King did and will venture; +May they flourish when those +That are his and our foes +Are hang'd, and ram'd down to the center. + +And may they be found +In all to abound, +Both with Heaven and the country's anger; +May they never want fractions, +Doubts, fears, and distractions, +Till the gallows-tree frees them from danger. + + + +Ballad: Loyalty Turned Up Trump, Or The Danger Over + + + +From the Loyal Garland, reprinted from a Black-Letter copy, printed +1686. Reprinted for the Percy society, 1850. + + +In vain ill men attempt us, +Their day is out of date; +The fates do now exempt us +From what we felt of late. +The nation is grown wiser +Than to believe their shame; +He that was the deviser +Themselves begin to blame. + +They thought the trumps would ever +Turn on rebellion's side, +But kinder power deliver +Us from their foolish pride; +For see, they are deceived, +And can no more prevail; +Those who the Rump believed, +Ashamed are of the tale. + + + +Ballad: The Loyalist's Encouragement + + + +From the Loyal Garland. To the tune of "Now, now the fight's +done." + + +You Royalists all, now rejoice and be glad, +The day is our own, there's no cause to be sad, +The tumult of faction is crush'd in its pride, +And the grand promoters their noddles all hide, +For fear of a swing, which does make it appear +Though treason they loved yet for hemp they don't care. + +Then let us be bold still, and baffle their plots, +That they in the end may prove impotent sots; +And find both their wit and their malice defeated, +Nay, find how themselves and their pupils they cheated, +By heaping and thrusting to unhinge a State, +Of which Heaven's guardian fixt is by fate. + +Though once they the rabble bewitch'd with their cant, +Whilst cobler and weaver set up for a saint; +Yet now the stale cheat they can fasten no more, +The juggle's discover'd and they must give o'er; +Yet give them their due that such mischief did work, +Who revile Christian princes and pray for the Turk. + +Oh! give them their due, and let none of 'em want +A cup of Geneva or Turkish turbant, +That, clad in their colours, they may not deceive +The vulgar, too prone and too apt to believe +The fears they suggest on a groundless pretence, +On purpose to make 'em repine or their prince. + + + +Ballad: The Trouper + + + +From the Loyal Garland. A pleasant song revived. + + +Come, come, let us drink, +'Tis vain to think +Like fools of grief or sadness; +Let our money fly +And our sorrows dye, +All worldly care is madness; +But wine and good cheer +Will, in spite of our fear, +Inspire us all with gladness. + +Let the greedy clowns, +That do live like hounds, +They know neither bound nor measure, +Lament every loss, +For their wealth is their cross, +Whose delight is in their treasure; +Whilst we with our own +Do go merrily on, +And spend it at our leisure. + +Then trout about the bowl +To every loyal soul, +And to his hand commend it. +A fig for chink, +'Twas made to buy drink, +Before we depart we'll end it. +When we've spent our store, +The nation yields no more, +And merrily we will spend it. + + + +Ballad: On The Times, Or The Good Subject's Wish + + + +From the Loyal Garland. To the tune of "Young Phaon." + + +Good days we see, let us rejoice, +In peace and loyalty, +And still despise the factious noise +Of those that vainly try +To undermine our happiness, +That they may by it get; +Knavery has great increase +When honesty does set. + +But let us baffle all their tricks, +Our King and country serve; +And may he never thrive that likes +Sedition in reserve: +Then let each in his station rest, +As all good subjects should; +And he that otherwise designs, +May he remain unblest. + +May traytors ever be deceived +In all they undertake, +And never by good men believed; +May all the plots they make +Fall heavy on themselves, and may +They see themselves undone, +And never have a happy day, +That would the King dethrone. + + + +Ballad: The Jovialists' Coronation + + + +From the Loyal Garland. + + +Since it must be so, why then so let it go, +Let the giddy-brain'd times turn round; +Now we have our King, let the goblets be crowned, +And our monarchy thus we recover; +Whilst the pottles are weeping +We'll drench our sad souls +In big-belly'd bowls, +And our sorrows in wine shall lie steeping. +And we'll drink till our eyes do run over, +And prove it by reason, +It can be no treason +To drink or to sing +A mournifal of healths to our new-crowned King. + +Let us all stand bare in the presence we are, +Let our noses like bonfires shine; +Instead of the conduits, let pottles run wine, +To perfect this true coronation; +And we that are loyal, in drink shall be peers; +For that face that wears claret +Can traytors defie all, +And out-stares the bores of our nation; +In sign of obedience +Our oaths of allegiance +Beer glasses shall be, +And he that tipples tends to jollitry. + +But if in this reign a halberdly train, +Or a constable, chance to revel, +And would with his twyvels maliciously swell, +And against the King's party raise arms: +Then the drawers, like yeomen o' the guard, +With quart-pots +Shall fuddle the sots, +Till they make 'um both cuckolds and freemen, +And on their wives beat up alarms, +Thus as the health passes, +We'll triple our glasses, +And count it no sin +To drink and be loyal in defence of our King. + + + +Ballad: The Loyal Prisoner + + + +From the Loyal Garland. + + +How happy's that pris'ner that conquers his fate +With silence, and ne'er on bad fortune complains, +But carelessly plays with keys on his grate, +And he makes a sweet concert with them and his chains! +He drowns care in sack, while his thoughts are opprest, +And he makes his heart float like a cork in his breast. +Then since we are slaves, and all islanders be, +And our land a large prison enclosed by the sea, +We'll drink off the ocean, and set ourselves free, +For man is the world's epitomy. + +Let tyrants wear purple, deep-dy'd in the blood +Of those they have slain, their scepters to sway, +If our conscience be clear, and our title be good, +With the rags that hang on us we are richer than they; +We'll drink down at night what we beg or can borrow, +And sleep without plotting for more the next morrow. +Then since, etc. + +Let the usurer watch o'er his bags and his house, +To keep that from robbers he rak'd from his debtors, +Which at midnight cries thieves at the noise of a mouse, +And he looks if his trunks are fast bound to their fetters; +When once he's grown rich enough for a State's plot, +But in one hour plunders what threescore years got. +Then since, etc. + +Come, drawer, fill each man a peck of old sherry, +This brimmer shall bid all our senses good-night; +When old Aristotle was frolic and merry, +By the juice of the grape, he stagger'd out-right; +Copernicus once, in a drunken fit, found +By the course of's brains that the world did turn round. +Then since, etc. + +'Tis sack makes our faces like comets to shine, +And gives tincture beyond a complexion mask. +Diogenes fell so in love with his wine, +That when 'twas all out he dwelt in the cask, +And being shut up within a close room, +He, dying, requested a tub for his tomb. +Then since, etc. + +Let him never so privately muster his gold, +His angels will their intelligence be; +How closely they're prest in their canvas hold, +And they want the State-souldier to set them all free: +Let them pine and be hanged, we'll merrily sing, +Who hath nothing to lose, may cry, God bless the King. +Then since, etc. + + + +Ballad: Canary's Coronation + + + +From the Loyal Garland. + + +Come, let's purge our brains +From ale and grains, +That do smell of anarchy; +Let's chuse a King +From whose blood may spring +Such a sparkling progeny; +It will be fit, strew mine in it, +Whose flames are bright and clear; +We'll not bind our hands with drayman's bands, +When as we may be freer; +Why should we droop, or basely stoop +To popular ale or beer? + +Who shall be King? how comes the thing +For which we all are met? +Claret is a prince that hath long since +In the royal order set: +His face is spread with a warlike seed, +And so he loves to see men; +When he bears the sway, his subjects they +Shall be as good as freemen; +But here's the plot, almost forgot, +'Tis too much burnt with women. + +By the river of Rhine is a valiant wine +That can all other replenish; +Let's then consent to the government +And the royal rule of Rhenish: +The German wine will warm the chine, +And frisk in every vein; +'Twill make the bride forget to chide, +And call him to't again: +But that's not all, he is too small +To be our sovereign. + +Let us never think of a noble drink, +But with notes advance on high, +Let's proclaim good Canary's name, - +Heaven bless his Majesty! +He is a King in everything, +Whose nature doth renounce all, +He'll make us skip and nimbly trip +From ceiling to the groundsil; +Especially when poets be +Lords of the Privy Council. + +But a vintner will his taster be, +Here's nothing that can him let; +A drawer that hath a good palat +Shall be squire of the gimblet. +The bar-boys shall be pages all, +A tavern well-prepared, +And nothing shall be spared; +In jovial sort shall be the court, +Wine-porters that are soldiers tall +Be yeomen of the guard. + +But if a cooper we with a red nose see +In any part of the town; +The cooper shall, with his aids-royal, +Bear the sceptre of the crown; +Young wits that wash away their cash +In wine and recreation, +Who hates ale and beer, shall be welcome here +To give their approbation; +So shall all you that will allow +Canary's recreation. + + + +Ballad: The Mournful Subjects, + + + +Or The Whole Nation's Lamentation, From The Highest To The Lowest. + +The Mournful Subjects, or the Whole Nation's Lamentation, from the +Highest to the Lowest; who did with brinish tears (the true signs +of sorrow) bewail the death of their most gracious Soveraign King +Charles the Second, who departed this life Feb. 6th, 1684, and was +interred in Westminster Abbey, in King Henry the Seventh's Chapel, +on Saturday night last, being the 14th day of the said month; to +the sollid grief and sorrow of all his loving subjects. + +From vol. i. of the Roxburgh Ballads in Brit. Mus. + +Tune, "Troy Town, or the Duchess of Suffolk." + + +True subjects mourn, and well they may, +Of each degree, both lords and earls, +Which did behold that dismal day, +The death of princely pious Charles; +Some thousand weeping tears did fall +At his most sollid funeral. + +He was a prince of clemency, +Whose love and mercy did abound; +His death may well lamented be +Through all the nations Europe round; +Unto the ears of Christian kings +His death unwelcome tidings brings. + +All those that ever thought him ill, +And did disturb him in his reign, - +Let horrour now their conscience fill, +And strive such actions to restrain; +For sure they know not what they do, +The time will come when they shall rue. + +How often villains did design +By cruelty his blood to spill, +Yet by the Providence divine +God would not let them have their will, +But did preserve our gracious King, +Under the shadow of his wing. + +We grieved his soul while he was here, +When we would not his laws obey; +Therefore the Lord he was severe, +And took our gracious prince away: +We were not worthy to enjoy +The prince whom subjects would annoy. + +In peace he did lay down his head, +The sceptre and the royal crown; +His soul is now to heaven fled, +Above the reach of mortal frown, +Where joy and glory will not cease, +In presence with the King of Peace. + +Alas! we had our liberty, +He never sought for to devour +By a usurping tyranny, +To rule by arbitrary power; +No, no, in all his blessed reign +We had no cause for to complain. + +Let mourners now lament the loss +Of him that did the scepter sway, +And look upon it as a cross +That he from us is snatch'd away; +Though he is free from care or woe, +Yet we cannot forget him so. + +But since it was thy blessed will +To call him from a sinful land, +Oh let us all be thankful still +That it was done by thine own hand: +No pitch of honour can be free +From Death's usurping tyranny. + +The fourteen day of February +They did interr our gracious Charles; +His funeral solemnity, +Accompanied with lords and earls, +Four Dukes, I, and Prince George by name, +Went next the King with all his train. + +And thus they to the Abbey went +To lay him in his silent tomb, +Where many inward sighs were spent +To think upon their dismal doom. +Whole showers of tears afresh then fell +When they beheld his last farewell. + +Since it is so, that all must die, +And must before our God appear, +Oh let us have a watchful eye, +Over our conversation here; +That like great Charles, our King and friend, +We all may have a happy end. + +Let England by their loyalty +Repair the breach which they did make; +And let us all united be +To gracious James, for Charles his sake; +And let there be no more discord, +But love the King and fear the Lord. + + +Printed for F. Deacon in Guilt-Spur Street. + + + +Ballad: "Memento Mori" + + + +An elogy on the death of his sacred Majesty King Charles II., of +blessed memory. + +From the King's Pamphlets, British Museum. + + +Unwelcome news! Whitehall its sable wears, +And each good subject lies dissolved in tears! +Justly indeed; for Charles is dead, the great, +(Who can so much as such great griefs repeat?) +King Charles the good, in whom that day there fell +More than one tribe in this our Israel! +Ah! cruel Death! we find thy fatal sting +In losing him who was so good a King, - +A King so wise, so just, and he'd great part +In Solomon's wisdom and in David's heart; +A King! whose virtues only to rehearse +Rather requires a volume than a verse. +Sprung from the loyns of Charles of blessed fame, +A worthy son of his great father's name, +His parent's and his grandsire's virtues he, +As h' did their crown, enjoy'd EX TRADUCE, +Of th' best and greatest of Kings the epitome. +His justice such as him none could affright +From doing t'all to God and subjects right. +Punish he could, but, like Heaven's Majesty, +Would that a traitor should repent, not die. +His prudence to the laws due vigour gave, +He saved others and himself did save. +His valour and his courage, write who can? +Being a good souldier ere he was a man. +Wrestling with sorrows in a land unknown, +Whilst Herod did usurp his royal throne, +Banish'd his native country, every day, +Like Moses, at the brink of death he lay. +But that storm's over, and blest be that hand +That gave him conduct to his peaceful land; +Where this great King the Gordian knot unties, +Of Heaven's, the kingdom's, and his enemies; +Not with the sword, but with his grace and love, +Giving to those their lives that for his strove: +Never did person so much mercy breath +Since our blest Saviour's and his father's death. +In fine, his actions may our pattern be, +His godly life, the Christian diary; +But now he's dead, alas! our David's gone, +And having served his generation, +Is fall'n asleep; that glorious star's no more +That English wise men led unto the shore +Of peace, where gospel-truth's protest +Cherished within our pious mother's breast, +And with protection of such Kings still blest; +Blest with his piety and the nation too, +Happy in's reign, with milk and honey flew; +Yea, blest so much with peace and nature's store +Heaven could scarce give or we desire he more; +But yet, alas! he's dead! Mourn, England, mourn, +And all your scarlet into black cloth turn; +Let dust and ashes with your tears comply. +To weep, not sing, his mournful elegy; +And let your love to Charles be shown hereby +In rendering James your prayers and loyalty. +Long may Great James these kingdoms' sceptre sway, +And may his subjects lovingly obey, +Whilst with joint comfort all agree to sing, +Heaven bless these kingdoms and "God save the King!" + + +London: printed by F. Millet for W. Thackeray, at the sign of the +Angel in Duck Lane, 1685. + + + +Ballad: Accession Of James II + + + +From "Read's 'Weekly Journal, or British Gazetteer." Saturday, May +15th, 1731. This was a Jacobite Journal, and this song was +reproduced at the time, from an earlier period. The allusions are +evidently to the death of Charles II. and the succession of James +II. + + +What means, honest shepherd, this cloud on thy brow? +Say, where is thy mirth and thy melody now? +Thy pipe thrown aside, and thy looks full of thought, +As silent and sad as a bird newly caught. +Has any misfortune befallen thy flocks, +Some lamb been betray'd by the craft of the fox; +Or murrain, more fatal, just seized on thy herd; +Or has thy dear Phyllis let slip a cross word? + +The season indeed may to musing incline, +Now that grey-bearded Winter makes Autumn resign; +The hills all around us their russet put on, +And the skies seem in mourning for loss of the sun. +The winds make the tree, where thou sitt'st, shake its head; +Yet tho' with dry leaves mother earth's lap is spread, +Her bosom, to cheer it, is verdant with wheat, +And the woods can supply us with pastime and meat. + +Oh! no, says the shepherd, I mourn none of these, +Content with such changes as Heaven shall please; +Tho' now we have got the wrong side of the year, +'Twill turn up again, and fresh beauties appear: +But the loss that I grieve for no time can restore; +Our master that lov'd us so well is no more; +That oak which we hop'd wou'd long shelter us all, +Is fallen; then well may we shake at its fall. + +Where find we a pastor so kind and so good, +So careful to feed us with wholesomest food, +To watch for our safety, and drive far away +The sly prouling fox that would make us his prey? +Oh! may his remembrance for ever remain +To shame those hard shepherds who, mindful of gain, +Only look at their sheep with an eye to the fleece, +And watch 'em but so as the fox watch'd the geese. + +Whom now shall I choose for the theme of my song? +Or must my poor pipe on the willow be hung? +No more to commend that good nature and sense, +Which always cou'd please, but ne'er once gave offence. +What honour directed he firmly pursu'd, +Yet would not his judgment on others intrude; +Still ready to help with his service and vote, +But ne'er to thrust oar in another man's boat. + +No more, honest shepherd, these sorrows resound, +The virtues thou praisest, so hard to be found, +Are yet not all fled, for the swain who succeeds +To his fields and his herds is true heir to his deeds; +His pattern he'll follow, his gentleness use, +Take care of the shepherds and cherish the muse: +Then cease for the dead thy impertinent care, +Rejoice, he survives in his brother and heir. + + + +Ballad: On The Most High And Mighty Monarch King James + + + +On his exaltation on the throne of England. + +Being an excellent new song. From a "Collection of One Hundred and +Eighty Loyal Songs, written since 1678." + +To the tune of "Hark! the Thundering Cannons roar." + + +Hark! the bells and steeples ring! +A health to James our royal King; +Heaven approves the offering, +Resounding in chorus; +Let our sacrifice aspire, +Richest gems perfume the fire, +Angels and the sacred quire +Have led the way before us. + +Thro' loud storms and tempests driven, +This wrong'd prince to us was given, +The mighty James, preserved by Heaven +To be a future blessing; +The anointed instrument, +Good great Charles to represent, +And fill our souls with that content +Which we are now possessing. + +Justice, plenty, wealth, and peace, +With the fruitful land's increase, +All the treasures of the seas, +With him to us are given; +As the brother, just and good, +From whose royal father's blood +Clemency runs like a flood, +A legacy from Heaven. + +Summon'd young to fierce alarms, +Born a man in midst of arms, +His good angels kept from harms - +The people's joy and wonder; +Early laurels crown'd his brow, +And the crowd did praise allow, +Whilst against the Belgick foe +Great Jove implored his thunder. + +Like him none e'er fill'd the throne, +Never courage yet was known +With so much conduct met in one, +To claim our due devotion; +Who made the Belgick lion roar, +Drove 'em back to their own shore, +To humble and encroach no more +Upon the British ocean. + +When poor Holland first grew proud, +Saucy, insolent, and loud, +Great James subdued the boisterous crowd, +The foaming ocean stemming; +His country's glory and its good +He valued dearer than his blood, +And rid sole sovereign o'er his flood, +In spight of French or Fleming. + +When he the foe had overcome, +Brought them peace and conquest home, +Exiled in foreign parts to roam, +Ungrateful rebels vote him; +But spite of all their insolence, +Inspired with god-like patience, +The rightful heir, kind Providence +Did to a throne promote him. + +May justice at his elbow wait +To defend the Church and State, +The subject and this monarch's date +May no storm e'er dissever: +May he long adorn this place +With his royal brother's grace, +His mercy and his tenderness, +To rule this land for ever. + + + +Ballad: In A Summer's Day + + + +From Hogg's Jacobite Relics. + + +In a summer's day when all was gay +The lads and lasses met +In a flowery mead, when each lovely maid +Was by her true love set. +Dick took the glass, and drank to his lass, +And JAMIE'S health around did pass; +Huzza! they cried; Huzza! they all replied, +God bless our noble King. + +To the Queen, quothiwell; Drink it off, says Nell, +They say she is wondrous pretty; +And the prince, says Hugh; That's right, says Sue; +God send him home, says Katy; +May the powers above this tribe remove, +And send us back the man we love. +Huzza! they cried; Huzza! they all replied, +God bless our noble King. + +The liquor spent, they to dancing went, +Each gamester took his mate; +Ralph bow'd to Moll, and Hodge to Doll, +Hal took out black-eyed Kate. +Name your dance, quoth John; Bid him, says Anne, +Play, The King shall enjoy his own again. +Huzza! they cried; Huzza! they all replied, +God bless our noble King. + + + + +Footnotes: + +(1) This stanza is omitted in most collections. Walker was a +colonel in the parliamentary army; and afterwards a member of the +Committee of Safety. + +(2) The Directory for the Public Worship of God, ordered by the +Assembly of Divines at Westminster in 1644, to supersede the Book +of Common Prayer. + +(3) The Earl of Thomond. + +(4) The Excise, first introduced by the Long Parliament, was +particularly obnoxious to the Tory party. Dr Johnson more than a +hundred years later shared all the antipathy of his party to it, +and in his Dictionary defined it to be "a hateful tax levied upon +commodities, and adjudged not by the common judges of property, but +by wretches hired by those to whom excise is paid." + +(5) Henry the Eighth. The comparison is made in other ballads of +the age. To play old Harry with any one is a phrase that seems to +have originated with those who suffered by the confiscation of +church property. + +(6) The Marquis of Winchester, the brave defender of his house at +Basing, had been made prisoner by Cromwell at the storming of that +house in 1645. Waller had been foiled in his attempt on this place +in the year preceding. - T. W. + +(7) Sir John Ogle, one of the Royalist commanders, who was +intrusted with the defence of Winchester Castle, which he +surrendered on conditions just before the siege of Basing House. - +T. W. + +(8) Wren, bishop of Ely, was committed to the Tower in 1641, +accused with high "misdemeanours" in his diocese. + +(9) David Jenkins, a Welsh Judge, who had been made prisoner at +the taking of Hereford, and committed first to Newgate and +afterwards to the Tower. He refused to acknowledge the authority +of the Parliament, and was the author of several tracts published +during the year (while he was prisoner in the Tower), which made a +great noise. - T. W. + +(10) Sir Francis Wortley, Bart., was made a prisoner in 1644, at +the taking of Walton House, near Wakefield, by Sir Thomas Fairfax. + +(11) Sir Edward Hales, Bart., of Woodchurch, in Kent, had been +member for Queenborough in the Isle of Sheppey. He was not a +Royalist. + +(12) Sir George Strangways, Bart., according to the marginal note +in the original. Another of the name, Sir John Strangways, was +taken at the surrender of Sherborne Castle. + +(13) Sir Henry Bedingfield, Bart., of Norfolk; Sir Walter Blount, +Bart., of Worcester; and Sir Francis Howard, Bart., of the North, +were committed to the Tower on the 22nd of January, 1646. + +(14) The horrible barbarities committed by the Irish rebels had +made the Catholics so much abhorred in England, that every English +member of that community was suspected of plotting the same +massacres in England. - T. W. + +(15) Sir John Hewet, of Huntingdonshire, was committed to the +Tower on the 28th of January, 1645(-6). + +(16) Sir Thomas Lunsford, Bart., the celebrated Royalist officer, +was committed to the Tower on the 22nd of January, 1646. The +violence and barbarities which he and his troop were said to have +perpetrated led to the popular belief that he was in the habit of +eating children. + +From Fielding and from Vavasour, +Both ill-affected men; +From Lunsford eke dilver us, +That eateth up children. +Loyal Songs, ed. 1731, i. 38. +T. W. + +(17) Sir William Lewis, one of the eleven members who had been +impeached by the army. + +(18) Col. Giles Strangwaies, of Dorsetshire, taken with Sir Lewis +Dives, at the surrender of Sherborne, was committed to the Tower on +the 28th August, 1645. He was member for Bridport in the Long +Parliament, and was one of those who attended Charles's "Mongrel" +Parliament at Oxford. + +(19) Sir Lewis Dives, an active Royalist, was governor of +Sherborne Castle for the King, and had been made a prisoner by +Fairfax in August, 1645, when that fortress was taken by storm. He +was brother-in-law to Lord Digby. + +(20) Sir John Morley, of Newcastle, committed to the Tower on the +18th of July, 1645. + +(21) King was a Royalist general, in the north, who was slain +July, 1643. + +(22) Sir William Morton, of Gloucestershire, committed to the +Tower on the 17th August, 1644. Cardinal Morton, Archbishop of +Canterbury, brought about the marriage between King Henry VII. and +the daughter of Edward IV., and thus effected the unison of the +rival houses of York and Lancaster. + +(23) Thomas Coningsby, Esq., of Northmyus in Hertfordshire, +committed to the Tower in November, 1642, for reading the King's +commission of array in that county. + +(24) Sir Wingfield Bodenham, of the county of Rutland, committed +to the Tower on the 31st of July, 1643. + +(25) Sir Henry Vaughan, a Welsh knight, committed to the Tower on +the 18th July, 1645. + +(26) Lilburn was, as has been observed, in the Tower for his +practices against the present order of things, he being an advocate +of extreme democratic principles; and he was there instructed in +knotty points of law by Judge Jenkins, to enable him to torment and +baffle the party in power. It was Jenkins who said of Lilburne +that "If the world were emptied of all but John Lilburne, Lilburne +would quarrel with John, and John with Lilburne." - T. W. + +(27) Mr Thomas Violet, of London, goldsmith, committed to the +Tower January 6th, 1643(-4), for carrying a letter from the King to +the mayor and common council of London. + +(28) Dr Hudson had been concerned in the King's transactions with +the Scots, previous to his delivering himself up to them, and he +and Ashburnham had been his sole attendants in his flight from +Oxford for that purpose. - T. W. + +(29) Poyntz and Massey were staunch Presbyterians, and their party +counted on their assistance in opposing the army: but they +withdrew, when the quarrel seemed to be near coming to extremities. + +(30) Glynn was one of the eleven members impeached by the army. + +(31) It was believed at this time that Fairfax was favourable to +the restoration of the King. + +(32) The "Jack Ketch" of the day. + +(33) The copy in the "Rump Songs" has "Smee and his tub." + +(34) The old proverbial expression of "the devil and his dam" was +founded on an article of popular superstition which is now +obsolete. In 1598, a Welshman, or borderer, writes to Lord +Burghley for leave "to drive the devill and his dam" from the +castle of Skenfrith, where they were said to watch over hidden +treasure: "The voyce of the countrey goeth there is a dyvell and +his dame, one sitts upon a hogshed of gold, the other upon a +hogshed of silver." (Queen Elizabeth and her Times, ii. 397.) The +expression is common in our earlier dramatic poets: thus +Shakespeare, - + +- "I'll have a bout with thee; +Devil, or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee: +Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch." +(Hen. V. Part I. Act I. sc. 5.) +T. W. + +(35) The prediction was not QUITE so speedily verified. + +(36) Colonel Hewson, originally a shoemaker. + +(37) Newspapers. + +(38) In the seventeenth century Lancashire enjoyed an unhappy pre- +eminence in the annals of superstition, and it was regarded +especially as a land of witches. This fame appears to have +originated partly in the execution of a number of persons in 1612, +who were pretended to have been associated together in the crime of +witchcraft, and who held their unearthly meetings at the Malkin +Tower, in the forest of Pendle. In 1613 was published an account +of the trials, in a thick pamphlet, entitled "The Wonderful +Discoverie of Witches in the Countie of Lancaster. With the +Arraignment and Triall of nineteene notorious Witches, at the +Assizes and general Goale Deliverie, holden in the Castle of +Lancaster, on Monday, the seventeenth of August last, 1612. +Published and set forth by commandment of his Majesties Justices of +Assize in the North Parts, by Thomas Potts, Esquier." "The famous +History of the Lancashire Witches" continued to be popular as a +chap-book up to the beginning of the nineteenth century. - T. +WRIGHT. + +(39) An allusion to the Dutch War of 1651 and 1652. + +(40) Oliver Cromwell. + +(41) The Welsh were frequently the subject of satirical allusions +during the civil wars and the Commonwealth. + +(42) Speaker of the Long Parliament. + +(43) Cromwell's wife. + +(44) Cromwell's two sons, Richard and Henry. + +(45) Cromwell's daughter. + +(46) Col. Pride, originally a brewer's drayman. + +(47) Walter Strickland, M.P. for a Cornish borough. + +(48) Monk was with his troops in Scotland, but had declared +himself an approver of the proceedings of the Parliament. + +(49) Dr John Owen, Joseph Caryl, and Philip Nye, were three of the +most eminent divines of this eventful age. Caryl, who was a +moderate independent, was the author of the well-known "Commentary +on Job." Dr Owen enjoyed the especial favour of Cromwell, who made +him Dean of Christchurch, Oxford; in his youth he had shown an +inclination to Presbyterianism, but early in the war he embraced +the party of the Independents. He was a most prolific writer. Nye +was also an eminent writer: previous to 1647 he had been a zealous +Presbyterian, but on the rise of Cromwell's influence he joined the +Independents, and was employed on several occasions by that party. +- T. W. + +(50) Col. John Ireton was the brother of the more celebrated Henry +Ireton, and was an alderman of London. He appears to have been +clerk of the Council of Officers at Wallingford House. + +(51) Col. Robert Tichbourne was also an alderman, and had been +Lord Mayor in 1658. He was an enthusiast in religion of the +Independent party, and published several books, among which one was +very celebrated, and is often referred to in the tracts of this +period, entitled, "A Cluster of Canaan's Grapes. Being severall +experimented truths received through private communion with God by +his Spirit, grounded on Scripture, and presented to open view for +publique edification." London, 4to, Feb. 16, 1649. In a satirical +tract of the year 1660 he is made to say, "I made my mother, the +city, drunk with the clusters which I brought from Canaan, and she +in her drink made me a colonel." After the return of the secluded +members to the House, and the triumph of the city and the +Presbyterian party, Ireton and Tichbourne were committed to the +Tower, charged with aiming at the overthrow of the liberties of the +city, and other grave misdemeanours. There are in the British +Museum two satirical tracts relating to their imprisonment: 1. +"The Apology of Robert Tichborn and John Ireton. Being a serious +Vindication of themselves and the Good old Cause, from the +imputations cast upon them and it by the triumphing city and nation +in this their day of desertion. Printed for everybody but the +light-heeled apprentices and head-strong masters of this wincing +city of London." (March 12, 1659-60.) 2. "Brethren in Iniquity: +or, a Beardless Pair; held forth in a Dialogue betwixt Tichburn and +Ireton, Prisoners in the Tower of London." 4to. (April 30, 1660.) + +(52) George Monk and John Lambert. + +(53) The eleventh of February was the day on which Monck overthrew +the Rump, by declaring for the admission of the secluded members. + +(54) On the tenth of February Monk, by order of the Parliament, +had entered the city in a hostile manner. "Mr Fage told me," says +Pepys, "what Monck had done in the city, how he had pulled down the +most parts of the gates and chains that he could break down, and +that he was now gone back to Whitehall. The city look mighty +blank, and cannot tell what in the world to do." The next day he +turned from the Parliament, and took part with the city. + +(55) Thomas Scot and Luke Robinson were sent by the Parliament to +expostulate with Monk, but without effect. + +(56) Pepys gives the following description of the rejoicings in +the city on the evening of the eleventh of February:- "In Cheapside +there were a great many bonfires, and Bow bells and all the bells +in all the churches as we went home were a-ringing. Hence we went +homewards, it being about ten at night. But the common joy that +was everywhere to be seen! The number of bonfires! there being +fourteen between St Dunstan's and Temple Bar, and at Strand Bridge +I could at one time tell thirty-one fires. In King-street seven or +eight; and all along burning, and roasting, and drinking for Rumps, +there being rumps tied upon sticks and carried up and down. The +butchers at the May Pole in the Strand rang a peal with their +knives when they were going to sacrifice their rump. On Ludgate +Hill there was one turning of a spit that had a rump tied upon it, +and another basting of it. Indeed it was past imagination, both +the greatness and the suddenness of it. At one end of the street +you would think there was a whole lane of fire, and so hot that we +were fain to keep on the further side." + +(57) In a satirical tract, entitled "Free Parliament Quaeries," +4to, April 10, 1660, it is inquired "Whether Sir Arthur did not act +the Raging Turk in Westminster Hall, when he saw the admission of +the secluded members?" Pepys gives the following account of the +reception of Monck's letter from the city on the 11th of February:- +"So I went up to the lobby, where I saw the Speaker reading of the +letter; and after it was read Sir A. Haselrigge came out very +angry, and Billing, standing by the door, took him by the arm and +cried, 'Thou man, will thy beast carry thee no longer? thou must +fall!'" + +(58) Haselrigge was accused of having been a dupe to Monck's +cunning intrigues. + +(59) The celebrated Praise-God Barebone, at the head of a body of +fanatics, had (February 9th) presented a strong petition to the +House in support of the Good old Cause, which gave great offence to +the Presbyterian party and the citizens, although it was received +with thanks. According to Pepys, one of Monck's complaints against +the Parliament was, "That the late petition of the fanatique people +presented by Barebone, for the imposing of an oath upon all sorts +of people, was received by the House with thanks." The citizens +did not omit to show their hostility against the presenter of the +petition. On the 12th, Pepys says, "Charles Glascocke. . . told me +the boys had last night broke Barebone's windows." And again, on +the 22nd, "I observed this day how abominably Barebone's windows +are broke again last night." + +(60) Miles Corbet, as well as Tichbourn, had sat upon the King in +judgment. In a satirical tract, published about the same time as +the present ballad, Tichbourn is made to say, "They say I am as +notorious as Miles Corbet the Jew." In another, entitled "The +Private Debates, etc., of the Rump," 4to, April 2, 1660, we read, +"Call in the Jews, cryes Corbet, there is a certain sympathy (quoth +he), methinks, between them and me. Those wandering pedlers and I +were doubtless made of the same mould; they have all such blote- +herring faces as myself, and the devil himself is in 'um for +cruelty." He was one of those who fled on the Restoration, but he +was afterwards taken treacherously in Holland, and, being brought +to London, was executed as a regicide. In another satirical tract, +entitled "A Continuation of the Acts and Monuments of our late +Parliament" (Dec. 1659), it is stated that, "July 1, This very day +the House made two serjeants-at-law, William Steele and Miles +Corbet, and that was work enough for one day." And, in a fourth, +"Resolved, That Miles Corbet and Robert Goodwin be freed from the +trouble of the Chief Register Office in Chancery." MERCURIUS +HONESTUS, No. 1. (March 21, 1659-60.) + +(61) William Lord Monson, Viscount Castlemaine, was member for +Ryegate in the Long Parliament. He was degraded from his honour at +the Restoration, and was condemned to be drawn on a sledge with a +rope round his neck from the Tower to Tyburn, and back again, and +to be imprisoned there for life. It appears, by the satirical +tracts of the day, that he was chiefly famous for being beaten by +his wife. In one, entitled "Your Servant, Gentlemen," 4to, 1659, +it is asked, "Whether that member who lives nearest the church +ought not to ride Skimmington next time my Lady Mounson cudgels her +husband?" And in another ("The Rump Despairing," 4to, London, +March 26, 1660) we find the following passage:- "To my Lord Monson. +A sceptre is one thing, and a ladle is another, and though his wife +can tell how to use one, yet he is not fit to hold the other." + +(62) Pudding John, or Jack Pudding, was a proverbial expression of +the times for a Merry Andrew. In an old English-German Dictionary +it is explained thus:- "JACK-PUDDING, un buffon de theatre, +deliciae populi, ein Hanswurst, Pickelhering." The term was +applied as a soubriquet to any man who played the fool to serve +another person's ends. "And first Sir Thomas Wrothe (JACK PUDDING +to Prideaux the post-master) had his cue to go high, and feele the +pulse of the hous." History of Independency, p. 69 (4to, 1648). + +(63) An allusion to James Harrington's "Oceana." + +(64) James Harrington, a remarkable political writer of this time, +had founded a club called the Rota, in 1659, for the debating of +political questions. This club met at Miles's Coffee-house, in Old +Palace Yard, and lasted a few mouths. At the beginning of the +present year was published the result of their deliberations, under +the title of "The Rota: or, a Model of a Free State, or Equall +Commonwealth; once proposed and debated in brief, and to be again +more at large proposed to, and debated by, a free and open Society +of ingenious Gentlemen." 4to, London, 1660 (Jan. 9). + +(65) William Prynne, the lawyer, who had been so active a member +of the Long Parliament when the Presbyterians were in power, was +one of the secluded members. He returned to the House on the 21st +of January, this year. Pepys says, "Mr Prin came with an old +basket-hilt sword on, and had a great many shouts upon his going +into the hall." + +(66) John Wilde was one of the members for Worcestershire in the +Long Parliament. In Cromwell's last Parliament he represented +Droitwich, and was made by the Protector "Lord Chief Baron of the +publick Exchequer." In a satirical pamphlet, contemporary with the +present ballad, he is spoken of as "Sarjeant Wilde, best known by +the name of the Wilde Serjeant." Another old song describes his +personal appearance: + +"But, Baron Wild, come out here, +Show your ferret face and snout here, +For you, being both a fool and a knave, +Are a monster in the rout here." +Loyal songs II. 55. + +(67) See footnote (60). + +(68) Alderman Atkins. + +(69) Ludlow was well known as a staunch Republican. The incident +alluded to was a subject of much merriment, and exercised the pen +of some of the choicest poets of the latter half of the seventeenth +century. - T. W. + +(70) Lambert, with his army, was in the North, and amid the +contradictory intelligence which daily came in, we find some people +who, according to Pepys, spread reports that Lambert was gaining +strength. - T. W. + +(71) Marchamont Nedham. + +(72) Lambert and "his bears" are frequently mentioned in the +satirical writings of this period. Cromwell is said to have sworn +"by the living God," when he dissolved the Long Parliament. - T. W. + +(73) Speaker of the Long Parliament. + +(74) Harry Marten, member for Berkshire, a man of equivocal +private character. In the heat of the civil wars he had been +committed to the Tower for a short time by the Parliament, for +speaking too openly against the person of the King. When he +attempted to speak against the violent dissolution of the Long +Parliament by Cromwell, the latter reproached him with the +licentiousness of his life. - T. W. + +(75) William Lord Monson, Viscount Castlemaine, was member for +Ryegate. He was degraded from his honours at the Restoration, and +was condemned to be drawn on a sledge with a rope round his neck +from the Tower to Tyburn, and back again, and to be imprisoned +there for life. It appears, by the satirical tracts of the day, +that he was chiefly famous for being beaten by his wife. - T. W. + +(76) Sir Arthur Haselrigge, member for Leicestershire. + +(77) Noise or disturbance. + +(78) Dr John Hewit, an episcopal clergyman, executed for high +treason in 1658, for having held an active correspondence with the +Royalists abroad, and having zealously contributed to the +insurrection headed by Penruddock. + +(79) John Lowry, member for Cambridge. + +(80) Sir Edmund Prideaux, Bart., member for Lyme Regis. He was +Cromwell's Attorney-General. + +(81) Oliver St John, member for Totness, and Lord Chief Justice of +the Common Pleas. + +(82) John Wilde, one of the members for Worcestershire. In +Cromwell's last Parliament he represented Droitwich, and was made +by the Protector "Lord Chief Baron of the Public Exchequer." + +(83) Sir Henry Slingsby and Dr Hewet were executed for treason +against the government of Oliver Cromwell in 1658. Colonel John +Gerard was brought to the block at the beginning of the +Protectorate, in 1654, for being engaged in a plot to assassinate +Cromwell. + +(84) John Lord Lisle represented Yarmouth in the Long Parliament. +He sat for Kent in the Parliament of 1653, and was afterwards a +member of Cromwell's "other House," and held the office of Lord +Commissioner of the Great Seal. He was president of the High +Courts of Justice which tried Gerard, Slingsby, and Hewet. + +(85) Nathaniel Fiennes, member for Banbury. In the Parliament of +1654 he represented Oxfordshire. He was afterwards, as Nathaniel +Lord Fiennes, a member of Cromwell's "other House." Fiennes was +accused of cowardice in surrendering Bristol (of which he was +governor) to Prince Rupert, somewhat hastily, in 1643. His father, +Lord Say and Sele, opposing Cromwell, was obliged to retire to the +Isle of Lundy. + +(86) John Lord Glynn, member of Cromwell's "other House," was +"Chief Justice assigned to hold pleas in the Upper Bench." He was +engaged in the prosecution of the Earl of Strafford. He was one of +the eleven members impeached by the army in 1647. In the Long +Parliament, as well as in Cromwell's Parliaments, he was member for +Carnarvon. - T. W. + +(87) Henry Nevil, member for Abingdon. In Cromwell's last +Parliament he represented Reading. In a satirical tract, he is +spoken of as "religious Harry Nevill;" and we find in Burton's +Diary, that some months before the date of the present song (on the +16th Feb. 1658-9) there was "a great debate" on a charge of atheism +and blasphemy which had been brought against him. - T. W. + +(88) In the satirical tract entitled "England's Confusion," this +member is described as "hastily rich Cornelius Holland." He +appears to have risen from a low station, and is characterized in +the songs of the day as having been a link-bearer. - T. W. + +(89) Major Salwey was an officer in the Parliamentary array. On +the 17th January, 1660, he incurred the displeasure of the House, +and was sequestered from his seat and sent to the Tower. He is +described as "a smart, prating apprentice, newly set for himself." +He appears to have been originally a grocer and tobacconist; a +ballad of the time speaks of him as, + +"Salloway with tobacco +Inspired, turned State quack-o; +And got more by his feigned zeal +Then by his, WHAT D'YE LACK-O?" + +In another he is introduced thus, + +"The tobacco-man Salway, with a heart tall of gall +Puffs down bells, steeples, priests, churches and all, +As old superstitions relicks of Baal." + +A third ballad, alluding to his attitude in the House, couples +together + +"Mr William Lilly's astrological lyes, +And the meditations of Salloway biting his thumbs." - T. W. + +(90) Roger Hill was member for Bridport, in Dorsetshire. He +bought a grant of the Bishop of Winchester's manor of Taunton Dean, +valued at 1200 pounds a year. A ballad written towards the end of +1659 says of him, + +"Baron Hill was but a valley, +And born scarce to an alley; +But now is lord of Taunton Dean, +And thousands he can rally." + +(91) With the revival of the Long Parliament, the old Republican +feelings arose again under the denomination of the "Good old +Cause." Innumerable pamphlets were published for and against "The +Cause." Even Prynne, the fierce old Presbyterian, who was now +turning against the patriots, lifted up his pen against it, and +published "The Republicans and others spurious Good old Cause +briefly and truly Anatomized," 4to, May 13, 1659. + +(92) Robert Cecil, Esq., was one of the members of the Old Long +Parliament who were now brought together to form the Rump. He +represented Old Sarum, Wilts. + +(93) Luke Robinson, of Pickering Lyth, in Yorkshire, was member +for Scarborough. An old ballad says of him, + +"Luke Robinson, that clownado, +Though his heart be a granado, +Yet a high shoe with his hand in his poke +Is his most perfect shadow." + +(94) Sir Harry Vane. + +(95) Thomas Scott was member for Aylesbury, in Buckinghamshire, in +the Long Parliament. + +(96) Hugh Peters, the celebrated fanatic. In the margin of the +original, opposite to the words "the Devil's fees," is the +following note - "His numps and his kidneys." - T. W. + +(97) To save his tithe pig: - probably the origin of the well +known slang phrase of the present day. + +(98) Coloured, or dyed. + +(99) Faustus. + +(100) An allusion to a popular old story and song. A copy of the +words and tune of "The Fryar and the Nun" is preserved in the +valuable collection of ballads in the possession of Mr Thorpe of +Piccadilly. - T. W. + +(101) "October 13th. I went out to Charing Cross to see Major- +General Harrison hanged, drawn, and quartered, which was done +there, he looking as cheerful as any man could do in that +condition." - Pepys. Thomas Harrison was the son of a butcher at +Newcastle-under-Line; he conveyed Charles I. from Windsor to +Whitehall to his trial, and afterwards sat as one of the judges. + +(102) "October 15th. This morning Mr Carew was hanged and +quartered at Charing Cross; but his quarters, by a great favour, +are not to be hanged up." - Pepys. Colonel John Carew, like +Harrison, was one of the Fifth-monarchy men, a violent and +visionary but honest enthusiast. + +(103) Hugh Peters, for his zeal in encouraging the Commonwealth +soldiery, was particularly hated by the Royalists. John Coke, the +able lawyer, conducted the prosecution of the King. + +(104) Gregory Clement, John Jones, Thomas Scott, and Adrian +Scrope, were charged with sitting in the High Court of Justice +which tried the King. Scott was further charged with having, +during the sitting of the Rump Parliament, expressed his +approbation of the sentence against the King. Colonel Scrope, +although he had been admitted to pardon, was selected as one of the +objects of vengeance, and was condemned chiefly on a reported +conversation, in which, when one person had strongly blamed what he +called the "murder" of the King, Scrope observed, "Some are of one +opinion, and some of another." + +(105) "October 19th. This morning Hacker and Axtell were hanged +and quartered, as the rest are." - Pepys. Colonel Francis Hacker +commanded the guards at the King's execution. Axtell was captain +of the guard of the High Court of Justice at which the King was +tried. + +(106) Richard Brown, one of Cromwell's Major-generals, Governor of +Abingdon, and member for London in the Long Parliament. He had +been imprisoned by the Rump. + +(107) The Earl of Norwich was George Lord Goring, who, with his +son, acted a prominent part in the Civil Wars. He was created Earl +of Norwich in 1644. + +(108) John Mordaunt, son of the Earl of Peterborough, celebrated +for his exertions to raise insurrections for the King during the +Protectorate, was one of the bearers of the letters of the King to +Monck. He was created Baron Mordaunt, July 10, 1659. Charles Lord +Gerard, afterwards created Earl of Macclesfield, was a very +distinguished Royalist officer. Thomas Wentworth, Earl of +Cleveland, who had suffered much for his loyalty to Charles I., +headed a body of three hundred noblemen and gentlemen in the +triumphal procession of Charles II. into London. + +(109) Charles Stuart, a gallant Royalist officer, who had been +created Earl of Litchfield by Charles I. in 1645, and who +immediately after the Restoration succeeded his cousin Esme Stuart +as Duke of Richmond. Charles Stanley, Earl of Derby, was son of +the Earl of Derby who was beheaded after the battle of Worcester, +and of the Countess who so gallantly defended Latham House in 1644. + +(110) The Nursery Rhyme, "The Man in the Moon drinks claret." + +(111) Philip Nye. + +(112) William Kiffin was a celebrated preacher of this time, and +had been an officer in the Parliamentary army. A little before the +publication of the present ballad a tract had appeared, with the +title, "The Life and Approaching Death of William Kiffin. +Extracted out of the Visitation Book by a Church Member." 4to, +London, March 13, 1659-60. He is here said to have been originally +'prentice to a glover, and to have been in good credit with +Cromwell, who made him a lieutenant-colonel. He appears to have +been busy among the sectaries at the period of the Restoration. He +is thus mentioned in a satirical pamphlet of that time, entitled +"Select City Quaeries:" - "Whether the Anabaptists' late manifesto +can be said to be forged, false, and scandalous (as Politicus terms +it), it being well known to be writ by one of Kiffin's disciples; +and whether the author thereof or Politicus may be accounted the +greater incendiary?" - T. W. + +(113) Fox and Naylor were the founders of the sect of Quakers. +Naylor, in particular, was celebrated as an enthusiast. Jacob +Boehmen, or Behmen, was a celebrated German visionary and +enthusiast, who lived at the end of the sixteenth and beginning of +the seventeenth centuries, and the founder of a sect. + +(114) There was a story that Charles II. was really married to +Lucy Walters, the mother of the Duke of Monmouth, and that the +contract of marriage was in existence in a "black box," in the +custody of the Bishop of Durham, suggested apparently by the +endeavours of that Bishop to change the succession to the crown in +favour of the Duke of Monmouth, to the exclusion of James II. + +(115) Titus Oates, the inventor of the Popish plot. + +(116) Patience Ward, the alderman. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Cavalier Songs 1642-1684 + diff --git a/old/csboe10.zip b/old/csboe10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef25911 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/csboe10.zip |