A ROYAL ARBOR OF LOYAL POESY, Consisting of Poems and Songs. Digested into TRIUMPH, ELEGY, satire, LOVE & DROLLERY. Composed by Tho. jordan.  
— Mediocribus esse Poets  
〈◊〉 Homines, non Dii, non concessero Column.  Horac●, de Arte Poetica. 
London, Printed by R. W. for Eliz. Andrews, at the White Lion near Pie-corner▪   

To the most liberal Lover of Sciential Industry and Native Ingenuity, the truly Noble, Mr. JOHN BENCE MERCHANT  
Much honoured Sir,  
WHen you shall please to make a review of your own serene Merits, and peruse with pausing Curiosity these Poetical Imperfections, my fears are that you will condemn my Confidence; but my hopes are as great, that you will commend my Prudence: from whence I extract this presumption, that though all Critics should comply to cry down my Wit in composing my Poems, they shall applaud my Judgement in the choice of my Patron. Sir, Your own deservings declare You to be no less than a Palace of Honour, if these Poems like a Vine, or Woodbine, may support themselves upon your Edifice, they shall, by this fortunate transplantation, grow more fragrant, and gratify your Indulgence. The business of the whole World is but folly diversified, nor can I make a better Apology for my Poetry, but that it is Vanity in variety; yet no less innocent than those Actions which the noblest Persons in the worthiest Times have esteemed their clearest Recreations. I must confess that the multiplicity of reasonless Rhymers and i●●●gular Readers, have very much deface the Majesty of Poesy, but one beam of Your favour will reinthrone it. Sir, you will find some pieces in this promiscuous Gallery very plainly dressed, but withal very properly; for my aims were always rather at aptitude then altitude, and to make my Compositions more genuine than gorgeous, it is no more proper in Poets then in Painters, to cloth a Tinker in Tissue: Sir, (in one word) Your Candour hath compelled me to make these Poetical Addresses, if any thing in them may either provoke Your praise, or pardon, I shall congratulate that happy means, which hath safely conducted me to so splendid a sphere of Love and Ingenuity, and be always studious to deserve (what I have been ever ambitious to desire) a seat in Your memory, and liberty to subscribe,  
Sir, The humblest of all your faithful Servants and the devoutest of your Honourers, Tho. jordan   

To all Noble, Learned, and Ingenious Lovers, of Poets, and Poetry.  
Most Royal, Honourable, and truly Worthy.  
ALthough Poets and Poetry (which the best ages formerly had in an exalted Estimation) are, in these loose latter times so discrowned and discouraged, that the very Name is made but a Title of Infamy, and their inspired Persons considered but in the needless number of metrical Mendicants; (because Poverty and Poetry are such Correlatives) yet I hope those Persons to whom I direct my Endeavours, and would only select to be my Supervisors, are qualified with diviner Inspection. It hath been frequently observable amongst Historians, when Times did grow degenerate, and declined into Barbarism, Poetry did wane into contempt and contumely, but (è contrario) in flourishing, well modelled and orderly guided Republics it advanced to Honour and admiration. I am not so extravagant as once a presented Poetaster (in a good Comedy) said, Who loves not Verse is damned: nor so rapt with a vainglorious humour and self-admiration as old Ben was when he made this Distich, the Theme being Poets. 
When God begins to do some excellent thing,  
He makes a Poet or, at least, a King.  But I am persuaded that the Priests of Apollo are very much better than the squint-eyed souls of rustic capacities render them.  
I remember (very opportunely) that I once presented a Manual of Meeter to a very popular Physician of this City in Oliver's time, who made me no better return, then that He hated Poetry; after which words such a judgement fell upon him, that he hath lain sweeting under the heavy displeasure of Venus ever since. I could tell you more and worse punishments that have fallen upon such Heretics, but I should then make my Epistle exceed the length of my Book, and your patience; which I fear I shall preserve to suffer more by the Saw of my rude Compositions, although never the intent of  
Your Servant, Tho. Jordan.   

An Induction.  
WHen eighteen years had crucified our Pleasure,  
With Civil Swords, by wasting Blood and Treasure;  
When by the Power of a Schismatic brood  
Religion's glorious face was in a Cloud;  
After the mildest King the Sun e'er saw  
Was murdered by imaginary Law:  
When Covenants made to God, Angels, and Men  
Were broke by those who fain would do't again;  
After they did the Bloody Corpse Inter,  
Of Praying, preaching, Perjured Oliver;  
When Parliaments were worn unto the stump,  
And England's Head was ruled by a Rump;  
When (blind with sorrow) we began to grope,  
When all were out of heart, and out of hope:  
Then MONCK, the King of Generals came forth  
In a mysterious March out of the North,  
To London City; where he and his Men  
Pulled down the Gates, but set them up again:  
When by his smiles he put hope in us all,  
This Speech was spoken to him in this Hall.  

A Speech made to his Excellency the Lord General Monck, and the Council of State, at Skinners-Hall on Wednesday, being the Fourth of April, 1660. At which time he was nobly entertained by that Honourable Company.  
I Can forbear no longer, out it must  
If I shall prove ingenious or just,  
I have with wary eyes observed your steps,  
Your Stands, your Turns, your Pauses and your Leaps,  
And find, however you may mask your brow,  
You are a Statesman, and ambitious too:  
A right self-ended Person, for be't known,  
Yours and the Public Safety are all one;  
You are ambitious to be good, that feat  
Our Statesmen missed, for they were to be great:  
But yet (as Solomon made that choice which  
Commanded all) Wisdom will make you rich,  
And great, and glorious; and these shall last  
As long as time, and after time is past:  
When such as have their Country's Rights botrayed,  
Shall receive pay in Lucifer's Brigade.  
My Lord, I scorn to ●latter, I'll be true t'ye,  
All the good Deeds y'have done, are but your Duty;  
But yet your hand stretched in Jehovahs' Name  
Hath snatched three burning Kingdoms from the Flame;  
Our Laws, our Liberties, or what to us,  
And all mankind may be held precious,  
Were at the Stake, this Action hath outrun  
All thought▪ we cannot tell you what y'have done,  
Nor you yourself, it may not be expressed  
Till divers years have made▪ it manifest:  
Those ravenous beasts that our destruction wrought,  
When Church and State were to the Bare-bone brought,  
(Praise God) you ransomed, and without a Club,  
Beat down the daring Doctrine of the Tub;  
The sinking Pulpit to you did restore,  
Our Apron-Prelates must come there no more;  
And now the Iron-Monger will not rush in,  
But cease to make an Anvil of the Cushion:  
This you have done, quite unknown to the silly  
Prognostications of Booker and Lilly,  
Who know not (with all help their Arts can do)  
What 'tis guides Charles his Wain so well as you.  
But I forget my Message, Sir! by me  
This faithful Hospitable Company  
Doth bid you welcome; welcome as the Spring,  
As you yourself would welcome home— the thing  
We all expect, without the which, each Nation  
Subsisteth only by Anticipation:  
These ten or twelve years our three Kingdoms have  
Lived in a darkness equal to the Grave,  
Sti●led for want of breath until the bright  
Beams of your Presence gave a little light:  
'Tis yet but twilight, could we gain the Sun,  
And the clear wholesome air, the work were done▪  
You can dispel these mists and make all fair,  
We sue for nothing but the Sun and Air    

Continuation of the Induction.  
THe wary General whose Art did lie  
Much in the soul of business, secrecy,  
Was so obscure in all his postures we  
Could not discover his dark Loyalty;  
So silent was his tongue, secret his face,  
We could by neither find he did embrace  
Our royal hints; but when the upshot came,  
Swi●ter then powder, put into a flame,  
Through an obscuring Cloud before he speaks,  
Even as a hand Granado e'er it breaks,  
He fired us all, for (with a true consent)  
The Kingdom calls a full Free Parliament,  
That he by lawful consequence might bring  
The suffering Sovereignty of our Dread King  
Home to his glories, which no time could do  
But this, 'cause Providence would have it so:  
And now the Scene is changed, for what before  
The people did so hatefully abhor,  
They heartily embrace: no other thing  
Can prove so great a Cordial as the King:  
Nothing but He can cure them, for the Devil  
Had overrun the Land with the Kings Evil.  
Now he's Proclaimed the Bells joyfully ring, 
Ma● 10.   
The Bonfires blaze, all cry, God save the King;  
'T will make all Ages study and admire on't,  
Him whom they called the Son of the late Tyrant,  
Is now a God; and no where can be had  
(To heal their Wounds) the Balm of Gilead,  
But in King Charles; whole Troops of glittering Men  
Contend by thousands who shall fetch him in:  
The City sends forth acclamations high,  
No Prayers are made but for his Majesty.  
Thus do they guard him to Whitehall, 
May 29.  where we  
Will pray for him and his Posterity,  
That when the worst of State-Distempers spring,  
We may be cured by praying for the King.  

Another Speech at Goldsmiths-Hall to the General, April, 9 1660.  After a Song concluding with a Chorus of Amity. Enter a Sea Captain, he divideth the Singers and speaketh. 
LEt me make one too; Are ye grown so stout  
To contrive Peace, and leave the Seaman out;  
Have you in these large bowls which Plenty gave ye  
Drank off the Ocean, and swallowed the Navy?  
You never think upon our Rocks and Shelves,  
So you may snudge in safety by yourselves;  
Are not you Britain's? is not Navigation  
The only guard, and glory of a Nation:  
Can ye have Treasure brought without a Fleet,  
What is it gilds Cheapside and Lumbard-streer,  
But our Sea Trade? by our cutting the curled  
Ocean, ye hold Commerce with all the world;  
Whence come your costly Carpetings and Works,  
That grace the Chambers of Triumphant Turks,  
But from beyond Sea? and wise men of trust  
Believe if we have peace again, it must  
Come from beyond Sea, and d'ye go about  
To make a Peace and leave the Main Mast out.  
But where's my Admiral? Oh! I have spied him,  
His merits are so clear, no Clouds can hide him;  
I must go droll with him though, what cheer! hay?  
Up to the ears in Custard, here's a fray  
Compounded without bloodshed, these would be  
Good bits upon a March, George, or at Sea;  
When in the fury of tempestuous Wether  
We and our meat are pickled up together:  
Here are pure Quarters, Plenty keeps her Spring  
In London, 'tis a City for a King.  
I came just now ashore to speak with you,  
Directly up to Goldsmiths-Hall, I knew  
Where I should find you out, you love to settle  
With honest hearts, and men of the best mettle;  
They love Saint George, and yet do highly set  
A value on Saint Dunston, they're well met,  
Both of them put the Devil in a dump▪  
One had him by the nose, another's the Rump,  
And thereby hangs a tail: when I came hither,  
My business and my boldness mixed together  
Made me thrust in; where crowd ye cried they all,  
Quoth I to speak with my Lord General,  
I'm one of his Sea Captains; presently  
The Master, and the generous Company  
All bad me welcome, and did strongly woe  
Me to bid you so, and this Council too;  
In these or such like words they bade me say,  
The Sun's not welcomer to a dark day  
Than you are to this City; for you are  
Temperate in undertake, stout in War.  
Prudent in Councils, quick when dangers call,  
Secret in great designs, honest in all;  
'T would make the rudest Rebel quite renounce ill,  
To see but such a Soldier, such a Council,  
God prosper both, and may you never cease  
Till you have brought home the bright Prince's peace,  
That long lost Lady, could we make a Crown  
As rich as that was worn by Solomon,  
Rather than we would lose her, or displease her  
(I mean fair Peace) we'd give that Crown to seize her.   

A Speech spoken to the General and Council, when he was feasted at Fishmongers-Hall.  After a Song of difference betwixt the Lawyer, the Soldier, the Citizen, and the Countryman: The Chorus being end●l, Enter the Speaker habited properly for the Ghost of Massiancello Fisherman of Naples. 
IS your Peace just? what Rock stands it upon?  
Conscience and Law make the best union;  
If you gain Birthrights here by Blood and Slaughter,  
Though you sing now, you'll cry for ever after;  
Trust my experience one that can unfold  
The strangest truest tale that e'er was told:  
In my degree, few men shall overtake me,  
I was as great as wickedness could make me:  
This heart, this habit, and this tongue to boot  
Commanded forty thousand Horse and Foot:  
In three day's time, my fortune grew so high  
I could have matched my Fisher's family  
With the best blood in Naples; right and wrong,  
And life and death attended on my tongue;  
Till by a quick verticity of fate,  
I find too soon what I repent too late;  
And though a Rebel in a righteous clothing,  
My glow-worm-glories glimmered into nothing:  
Thus fell that Fisherman that had no fellow,  
I am the wand'ring shade of Massianello;  
Who since I was in this perdition hurled,  
Am come to preach this Doctrine to the world.  
Rebels, though backed with power and seeming reason,  
Time and success shall feel the fate of Treason.  
But stay! what Picture's this hangs in my sight?  
'Tis noble W●lworth the King-saving Knight,  
That stabbed jack-straw; had Walworth lived within  
These four Months, where had jack the Cobbler been?  
It was a bold brave deed, an act in season,  
Whilst he was on the top-branch of his Treason;  
But from that shadow dropping down my eye,  
I see a substance of like Loyalty.  
If long renowned Walworth had the fate  
To save a King, you have to save a State.  
And who knows what by consequence, the Knight  
By that brave deed, gained every man his right;  
And you by this, may give each Man his due,  
Not only Trusty hearts, but Traitors too:  
He drew Blood, you did not, 'tis all o●e sense,  
There's but a Straw's breadth in the difference:  
He saved the Town from being burnt, and you  
Have rescued it from Fire and Plunder too:  
He was this company's good Benesactor,  
And you have been their Liberties Protector;  
For which I heard them say they would engage  
Their States and Bloods, and Lives against all rage  
That should oppose your just Design; and that  
You are the welcomest Guest ever came at  
This Table: they say all they can exhibit,  
Is not so much a Treatment as a Tribute.  
They call you the first step to England's Peace,  
The right forerunner of our happiness.  
And joined with these great Councillors, you are  
Our best preservatives in Peace and War.  
You have a Loyal Heart, a lucky hand  
Elected for the Cure of this sick Land;  
Who (by Protectors and unjust trusties)  
Hath been enslaved, and brought upon her knees:  
We humbly pray this may be thought upon,  
Before the Kingdom's Treasure be quite gone,  
And hope you will (though envy look a squint)  
When all is sit, put a Just STEWARD in't.   

Chorus of ten Voices.  
THen may your Fame outlive all story  
And prove a Monument of Glory,  
Kings and Queens (as Tribute due)  
On their knees shall pray for you,  
Whilst all true hearts confess with Tongue and Pen  
A Loyal Subject is the best of Men.   

A Speech Composed to Welcome to the English Shore, the most Sacred and Inimitable Majesty of Charles the Second, personated by the Genius of England.  
Mirror of Majesty, bright Rising Sun,  
The virtues of all Kings comprised in one;  
How sha●l I look on thee Great Lord of Light,  
Lay by thy Beams, or fortify my sight;  
Thou art so frequent at the Throne of Grace,  
That God's reflective Glory gilds thy Face:  
Shall I make bare my Feet, as I am bound,  
Or shall I kneel, for sure 'tis Holy Ground?  
I will do so, England behold and blush.  
Here's the best Emblem of the burning Bush:  
I need not paraphrase, but wi●h this Nation  
May come to Use as well as Application.  
Remember Worcester, that escape may well  
Match the dimensions of a Miracle;  
Had I been Rebel of the worst degree,  
That very Fate would have converted me;  
Who saw not that, saw nothing.— But I come  
Dread Majesty to bid you welcome home,  
So doth the Kingdom too, and all about ye;  
For (in plain terms) we could not live without ye.  
The Law and Gospel too bade us good night,  
All had been wrong if you had lost your right.  
Till Lot came out, great Sodoms lofty Towers  
Could not take fire, this very case is ours.  
The Land ere this had all in ashes been  
But that, as theirs went out our Lot came in;  
Each individual person in this Nation,  
May bid you welcome next to their salvation:  
The very Schismatics, and such as are  
The manifest incendiaries of ● are  
May bid you welcome; for their Lives and Lands  
Had else been ravished by each others hands:  
You have a Kingdom here in order put,  
So out of frame, Chaos was nothing to'●;  
Your very presence doth at once dispense  
Light, heat, life, growth, and Godlike influence:  
You gained commission from the King of Kings,  
To bring us our Redemption in your Wings.  
Therefore may all the Joys that Kingdoms want,  
All that good men can beg, or God can grant,  
All kinds of happiness past and to come  
From the Creation▪ till the day of Doom,  
Fall on your Majesty; may every thing  
Contribute to the comforts of the King.  
And when the bea●ties of a Royal Bride  
Shall by your Sacred Arms be sanctified;  
May the pure power of Union to inflame ye,  
That married Pairs may prosper when they name ye.  
And may your Princely Progeny outvie  
The Stars for Light and Multiplicity.  
You are a man, Sir, a●ter Gods own Heart,  
May Stuarts Name, and England's Crown ne'er pair;  
But may it prove our Comfort and our Cure,  
So long as either Sun or Moon endure;  
May you have faithful Counsellors. and all  
As just as George your Loyal General:  
May Peace Crown all, and if there ever sprung  
A Prophet's Spirit in a Poet's Tongue,  
May mine hit right, and all my days I'll sing  
Upon no theme but this, God and the King.   

A Prologue to the King.  
LOng live the King in your Celestial Eyes  
The virtue of our late Creation lies;  
Our Re-Creation, for on English Earth,  
You are to every thing a second birth:  
We must acknowledge Liberty nor Lands  
Could come more grateful than your Dread Commands,  
Did to our very souls; but we are sorry  
We should this Night attend on so much glory,  
With such weak worth; or your clear sight engage  
To view the remnants of a ruin'd Stage;  
For doubting we should never play again,  
We have played all our Women into Men,  
That are of such large size for flesh and bones,  
They'll rather be taken for Amazons  
Then tender Maids; but your mercy doth please,  
Daily to pass by as great faults as these:  
If this be pardoned we shall henceforth bring  
Better oblations to my Lord the King.   

Epilogue to the King.  
WE have all done, if we have given distaste,  
It were much better we had done our last;  
But mighty Monarch, in your power it lies,  
And only yours to save or sacrifice:  
What we do want in playing, it shall be  
Supplied in praying for your Majesty.   

On a Picture of the Kings Escape in the Oak.  
BEhold the King, to avoid danger's stroke  
Confines his Royal Body in an Oak,  
Which lived until his Father's Li●e was done,  
Then died to prove a safety for the Son:  
And to us all this well-tried truth imparts,  
Better trust hollow Trees then hollow Hearts.   

On the King and Mistress Lane on Horseback.  
BEhold a Lady who had once the honour  
Of having a great King to wait upon her;  
A Matchless Madam, Piety's restorer,  
For in one man four Kingdoms rides before her;  
The great Defender (as true Story saith)  
Of him that is Defender of the Faith.   

On the Picture of the King on Horseback in Parliament Robes.  
BEhold King Charles the second doth present  
In Royal Robes both King and Parliament;  
Which signifies, that in thought, word, and deed,  
The King and Parliament are both agreed,  
Whilst Traitors Heads are mounted on that Hall  
Where Charles the first did find his final fall  
By an High Court of Justice, who consent  
At once to ruin King and Parliament:  
Long live the King, and God (in whom his trust is)  
Preserve his life from such High Courts of Justice.   

On Pictures of the King and Queen.  
TWo of the brightest Stars that have been seen  
Shine in this glorious King and virtuous Queen,  
In whose fair souls all that is good and great  
In England, (or in Portugal) are met;  
And may the Heirs of Charles and Katherine be  
The stems of all succeeding Sovereignty.   

On Pictures of the Duke and Duchess of York.  
BEhold Yorks Duke and Duchess too, whose lives  
Are patterns for good Husbands and chaste Wives,  
Good nature and good nurture too in them  
Make Love appear the greatest Diadem;  
May they all ne'er more see (as sad beholders)  
Religions head upon Rebellions shoulders.   

A Prologue to the King, August 16. 1660.  
SUre such a glory so serene, so bright,  
Started from Chaos when God called for light,  
For (like that glittering birth of Beams) you do  
Transluminate this Western world from you  
Our Saint, our Soul, our Sovereign, our King,  
We live and grow as the Sun brood's the Spring:  
Then (as in Loyalty obliged) 'tis fit  
We render part of our small stock, our Wit  
Which hath so long been cramped under their rage  
Who durst not see their actions on the stage,  
That numbed with a stupidity we fear  
We shall assault the softness of your ear;  
We have been so perplexed with Gun and Drum,  
Look to your Hats and Cloaks, the Redcoats come.  
D' Ambois is routed, Hotspur quits the Field,  
Falstass' out-filched, all in confusion yield;  
Even Auditor and Actor, what before  
Did make the Red-Bull laugh, now makes it roar:  
We curse the misery in which our Trade is,  
And are secured, but our magnific Ladies  
(Thinking to escape them) are torn by the Throats  
And (like Wine Porters) put in Petticoats,  
Dragged to the Muse for Plotters; but your presence  
Nullifies them, and gives us a new Essence,  
Till you came hither all was so forlorn  
We wished we had been buried, or unborn;  
All things were retrograde, the night and day  
Were shrinking to Prima Materia:  
We lived in such a strange distorted age  
Men durst not see their Figures on the stage;  
But furious as the deformed Lady was,  
Who for revenge broke her own Looking-glass;  
They cracked our mirror, and now none but you,  
Dread Majesty, can Mend or make us New.   

●A Prologue to a Play called The Florentine Ladies, played in the Night by Gentlemen.  
YOu're welcome to our Ladies, and I know  
Most courteous Gallants, Ladies will please you;  
Though at this hour, or midnight, else I'll swear  
Most of our Knights are lost with the last year:  
These creatures are of Florence, and not scorn  
To let you know they are Italians born;  
Your Ladies, worthy Gentlemen, 'tis thought  
Love things that are far fetch't and dearly bought:  
Why should not they who of this opinion are  
Let you love Ladies that are come so far;  
It is a question, and they may mistake  
Our Ladies to be Ladies of the Lake;  
Which in our English broadness is a Whore,  
Then what are we, nay they that keep the door;  
What are you too, my Masters? something 'tis  
That make your Wives thus follow you to this.  
A shrewd suspicion when our wand'ring Knights  
Arrest strange Ladies, and so late at nights;  
But there's no hurt, for if they please but you,  
We doubt not they'll content your Ladies too.  
Pray take't as 'tis, the best we can afford,  
If we do please, why so. Hab nab's the word.   

The Epilogue, on New-Years-Day at Night.  
WIth the New Year these Marriages begin, (in,  
Which will be broke ere the next year come  
Unless your hands do give us, all our pains  
In Love is lost, if you forbid the banes:  
But if you grant us Licence, and appear  
Each day to see us thorough the whole year;  
Come to our Wedding, to requite your loves,  
Show us your hands we'll fit you all with Gloves.   

A Prologue to a Play of mine, called, Love hath found his eyes; or Distractions.  
I Know ye did expect me, but for what,  
To say we have a Play, the Bills show that;  
Why let's begin then, Sound— But some will say  
Are there no faults in th' Actors, or the Play  
To beg your patience for? Yes faith, there's store,  
Yet all we crave is you'll not make 'em more.  
A very just petition, and 'tis ●it  
I think, we bear no more than we commit;  
Yet there are some, wise judges, that do seek  
To raise their laughter on what you dislike:  
The errors of the Actors, and they be  
The witty tribe of our own Quality;  
Why let them laugh, they paid for't, why should we  
Deprive a man of that felicity,  
That cannot help nor hurt us; and I pray  
How ere it prove, don't call't a Pretty Play:  
Let it be good or bad, that slight word pretty  
Shows the Play naught, and the depraver witty.  
The language is but low, and the invention  
No higher than a common apprehension,  
And (in a word) the Authors wish is such  
You'll not despair, nor yet expect too much.   

The Epilogue spoken by Cupid.  
I Hope these mutual Marriages express  
My optics are restored for each distress  
The Lovers once supposed they had by me,  
I have converted to a Jubilee.  
All's happy but myself, for I poor I  
That figure an eternal Deity,  
Must quit my glorious supremacy  
To stand the censure of mortality:  
Be courteous to a God, than whose high laws  
Commands all hearts, yet now must beg applause;  
For if you censure me like rigorous men,  
You spoil the plot and strike me blind again:  
All our distractions now are out of date,  
I would they were so too in Church and State,  
That England's King and People were at rest  
Without confounding either's interest;  
That jealousies and fears may never more  
Let loyal hearts lie weltering in their gore;  
That so the God of Love may often view  
This Island and present himself to you.   

A Speech by the way of Epilogue to those that would rise out of the Pit at the Red-Bull in the last Scene, and disturb the Conclusion, by going on the Stage, June 23. 1660.  
PRay keep your places Gentlemen, don't rise,  
Stay and take t'other Glass, as Peter's cries,  
'Tis the Catastrophe crowns all the sport,  
I warrant if you had places at Court  
You would not part with them so soon, pray stay  
Till Grace be said, and we have took away;  
You wrong your Ladies in the nick of pleasure,  
They would see't out, women love London measure●  
Pray keep your seats, let us be your advisers,  
You see (of late) what comes of early Risers;  
But if your fancy to this custom tends,  
Henceforth we'll study Plays that have no ends:   

A Prologue to the Comedy called The Tamer tamed, june 24. 1660.  Enter reading of the Bill. 
THe Tamer Tamed, what do the Players mean?  
Shall we have Rump and Rebel in the Scene?  
Iuncto's of Safety with the righteous rabble  
Of Apron-Peers, Knights of Sir Arthur's Table?  
Shall Baxter, Hewson, Scot, and Fox be named?  
These were our Tamer's, but I hope they're tamed;  
For those were men, who (in their holy rage)  
Did things too horrid for a civil Stage,  
Unless our company should all comply  
To leave good language and speak Blasphemy.  
This Play, the Tamer tamed, is Fletcher's wit,  
A man that pleased all palates, therefore sit  
And see the last Scene out; pray do not run  
Into confusion, till the Play be done:  
Should strangers see you mix among us thus,  
They would be apt to think you some of Vs.  
Pray keep your seats, you do not sit in fear  
As in the dangerous days of Oliver;  
It is not now (in good time be it spoke)  
Enter the Red-Coats, Exit Hat and Cloak.  
But such a prosperous change doth now attend ye,  
That those who did affront ye, shall defend ye.   

The Epilogue, spoken by the Tamer, a Woman.  
With licence of my Husband, I apply  
Myself to this honoured society,  
I fear I have offended the good Laws  
Of household government, and given cause  
By my example (in this wild assay)  
For some to put in practice what we play;  
And 'cause the Breeches now come near the make  
Of Petticoats, may willingly mistake:  
These are old quarrels, and no doubt came in  
When Adam digged and Madam Eve did spin.  
They're ne'er the honester for that, the crime  
Of bold Rebellion is older than Time.  
The breach of trust is old▪ the breach of Laws,  
Murder of Kings, witness the good Old Cause.  
But we exhibit to your Approbation,  
Not the Rebellion but the Reformation.   

A Prologue to introduce the first Woman that came to Act on the Stage in the Tragedy, called The Moor of Venice.  
I Come, unknown to any of the rest  
To tell you news; I saw the Lady dressed;  
The Woman plays to day; mistake me not,  
No Man in Gown, or Page in Pettycoat;  
A Woman to my knowledge, yet I can't  
(If I should die) make Affidavit on't.  
Do you not twitter Gentlemen? I know  
You will be censuring; do't fairly though;  
'Tis possible a virtuous woman may  
Abhor all sorts of looseness, and yet play;  
Play on the Stage, where all eyes are upon her;—  
Shall we count that a crime France calls an honour?  
In other Kingdom's Husbands safely trust '●m,  
The difference lies only in the custom;  
And let it be our custom I advise;  
I'm sure this Custom's better than th' Excise,  
And may procure us custom: hearts of flint  
Will melt in passion when a woman's in't.  
But Gentlemen you that as judges sit  
In the Star-Chamber of the house, the Pit;  
Have modest thoughts of her; pray do not run  
To give her visits when the Play is done,  
With dam me, your most humble Servant, Lady;  
She knows these things as well as you, it may be:  
Not a bit there, dear Gallants, she doth know  
Her own deserts, and your temptations too.  
But to the point in this reforming age  
We have intents to civilize the Stage.  
Our women are defective, and so sized  
You'd think they were some of the Guard disguised;  
For (to speak truth) men act, that are between  
Forty and fifty, Wenches of fifteen;  
With bone so large, and nerve so incomplyant,  
When you call Desdemona, enter Giant▪  
We shall purge every thing that is unclean,  
Lascivious, scurrilous, impious or obscene;  
And when we've put all things in this fair way  
Barebones himself may come to see a Play.   

Epilogue.  
ANd how d'ye like her▪ come, what is't ye drive at▪  
She's the same thing in public as in private;  
As far from being what you call a Whore,  
As Desdemona injured by the Moor▪  
Then he that censures her in such a case  
Hath a soul blacker than Othello's face:  
But Ladies what think you? for if you tax  
Her freedom with dishonour to your Sex,  
She means to act no more, and this shall be  
No other Play but her own Tragedy;  
She will submit to none but your commands,  
And take Commission only from your hands.   

A Prologue to the Poor man's Comfort.  Enter reading the Title, May 28. 1661. 
THe Poor man's comfort, this Title some will say  
Is fitter for a Pray'r-book then a Play;  
And some may censure who are Democraticks,  
The times will change, Players are turned fanatics.  
And the Red Bull where sports were wont to be,  
Is now a Meetinghouse, would 'twere for me  
A good full Meetinghouse, we should not be  
Contrivers of a new Fifth-Monarchy,  
And charge up for King judas: no, the very  
Plain truth is this, we meet but to be merry;  
Then do you judge what pity 'tis that we  
Should every day want merry company?  
Surely the fault is ours, or yours, or both,  
Let us consider where it lies: in troth  
You will appear most guilty I'm afraid,  
'Tis a full house that makes a Play well played:  
A numerous presence doth at once inspire  
Actor and Auditor with mutual fire:  
Therefore pray meet, come as you do to t'other,  
If not for us, yet to meet one another.  
But let me see? what was I going to say?  
O! 'tis about the Title of the Play.  
The great man's Comfort is above my thought,  
The Merchant's Comfort is a Ship full fraught,  
The Blow man's Comfort is a Field well tilled,  
Our Poor man's Comfort is a House well filled,   

March 16. 1661. An Advent to the King's Coronation.  
LEt all your hearts be filled with joy,  
King Charles his Coronation Day  
Is coming on, let every thing  
That fears God and Honours the King,  
Advance their spirits, and express  
A Royal loyal Thankfulness:  
That man that was by dangers tossed  
From place to place, and almost lost.  
He that did escape an Army's stroke,  
And made a Kingdom of an Oak,  
The Royal ORPHAN that was fed  
With sorrow, and with borrowed bread:  
He whom his Subjects would confound  
And crucify, shall now be Crowned.  
Then let all souls for such salvation.  
Cry up King Charles his Coronation.   

On the Day.  
THe happy day (long wished by some)  
By God's appointment, now is come,  
In which our joyful eyes shall see  
King Charles adorned with Majesty,  
And He who lived a life like job  
shall now with Crown, Sceptre, and Globe,  
With peaceful seed ascend his Throne,  
And every man shall have his own:  
The juncto, Oliver, and Rump  
That turned up all the Knaves for Trump,  
Are totally dissolved, and we  
Are Subjects to true Majesty.  
Then let us all with one consent  
Pray for the good Old Government,  
Under whose power we may increase  
In Truth and Treasure, Ease and Peace;  
And Children yet unborn shall live to say,  
This was the happy Coronation Day.   

After the Coronation.  
THe joyful days are come, and We  
Obtain our ancient Liberty,  
Religion rules, Rebellion rots,  
We sleep securely without plots;  
Our Lives are safe, our Laws are free,  
White-Hall's a Court or Equity.  
We are secured from Tyrant's Swords▪  
Malignant, and such Canting words  
Are out of date, Fanatic broods  
That preached away your Lands and Goods,  
Are put to silence, and we fear  
No forgeries at Westminster.  
Would you know how all this comes round,  
Take't in four words, King Charles is Crowned;  
Since it is so, let every thing  
Praise God, and say, Long live the King.   

A Let any delivered, Jan. 1. 1659. to a Friend as a New-Years Gi●t.  

From All, and more than I have written here,  
I wish protection to you this New Year.   

FRom those who for self-ends would All betray,  
From those new Saints that pistol when they pray;  
From flattering features with infernal souls,  
From Reformation, such as pulled down Paul's;  
From Churchland purchasers, from Town betrayers,  
From Weaving Preachers, and Extemp're Prayers;  
From blood, and something else that I could tell ye on,  
From Pulpit blasphemy and bold Rebellion;  
From new false Teachers which betray the old,  
From those that turn the Gospel into Gold:  
From that black Pack where Clubs are always trump,  
From bodies Politic, and from the Rump;  
From those that ruin where they should repair,  
From those that cut off heads instead of hair;  
From twelve month's Taxes and abortive Votes,  
From chargeable Nurse children in Red Coats;  
From such as sell their souls to save their Sums,  
From City Charters that make heads for Drums;  
From City Saints whose Annagram is Stains,  
From plots, and being choked with our own chains;  
From zeal that wants both Piety and Knowledge,  
From the hot Disputants in Gresham College;  
From Cobblers which ascend to Council Tables,  
From dens of thiefs, from Churches turned to Stables;  
From these and ten times more like to ensue,  
We humbly pray, Good Lord deliver you.    

On a view of the Rebels Arms.  
CRosses are crucified, the Organ which  
In bright Cathedrals soared a lofty pitch,  
Are now Demolished by such men (strange Riddle)  
Who in the room set up the Cross and Fiddle.   

On Independency.  
AN Independent is a Maggot bred  
In flyblown brains of Presbyterian head   

On the Act against Cock-matches, the next succeeding, their putting down of Church-Marriages.  
WHen Wedlock was pulled down by powerful hand,  
We might well guests Cock-matches would not not stand.   

On the jesuit and Puritan.  
THe Jesuit and Puritan prevail  
In spoil, like Sampson's Foxes tail to tail.   

Another.  
THe Jesuit and Puritan are two,  
Who under the best names most mischief do:    

Representations in Parts to be Habited, Sung, and Acted, as they have been often times with great applause performed before the Lord Major and the Sheriffs of London.  

An Eclogue, or Representation in four Parts, composed for the Lord Major, Sir Tho. Allen, and Sung by the City Music, Decemb. 18th. 1659.  The Presenters, Love, Plenty, Truth, and Courage. Love. 
MY honoured Lord and Lady,  
May that great hand that made ye  
Supply this cheer  
From year to year,  
And may no strength degrade ye.  Truth. 
I am a bold intruder,  
Which makes me seem the ruder;  
But the City is  
Much used to this  
Since civil War subdued her.  Plenty. 
We are no Lance-presadoes,  
No Basket-hilt Bravadoes;  
When you know our Names  
You'll love our fames,  
We deal not in Granades.  Love. 
We come not to invade ye,  
Or subtly to persuade ye;  Truth. 
I am Truth (in a word)  Plenty. 
I am Plenty, my Lord,  Love. 
And I am Love my Lady.  Chorus. 1. 
Let Buffcoat and Feather  2. 
Go drumming together:  All. 
We fear not the force of Invasion.  3. 
The Voice and the Lute  1. 
Makes a better dispute,  All. 
Love hath the best art of persuasion.  Plenty. 
But stay, methinks our Melody is dull,  
We want a voice to fill the Chorus full.  Love. 
Truth, where is Peace, (Truth) her absence is no wonder,  
For Peace and Truth have been long time asunder:  
Where is she gone? we'll hawl her in with Cables.  Love. 
Peace seldom goes where Churches are made Stables.  Truth. 
Peace never comes amongst those sad disasters,  
Into that Land where Servants beat their Masters:  Plenty. 
Peace seldom into such confusion comes  
Where City Charters are made heads for Drums.  Love. 
Peace loves good men, that profess what they'll die for,  
Not such as make Covenants stand for a Cipher.  Truth. 
Peace ne'er comes where Brother doth fight against Brother,  
Nor where Protestations drive out one another.  Plenty, 
Peace knows that the Sword men will ne'er be true friends,  
For Colonels like Cobblers are awl for their ends;  
She never appears, (though she very much pity)  
Where a bunch of Bandoleers are the keys of a City.  Love. 
When wisdom's wanting,  Truth. 
And zeal is canting,  Plenty. 
Then rage is ranting,  All. 
And Peace lies panting.  Chorus together. 
Then blame not the words of our Tongue or our Pen,  
We shall ne'er hold our peace till we get her again:  
For Love, Truth, and Plenty must quickly decay,  
As experience will tell us when Peace is away.  Love. 
But now Peace is gone  
And hath left us alone,  
What other foundation can we build upon  Truth. 
Let courage come rule.  Plen. 
I fear he's too cool.  Love. 
If he leave Love and Plenty, and Truth, he's a fool.  Truth. 
Can fury outbrave him?  
'Tis Truth that must save him;  
Go call him: (Plen.) I can not, the Prentices have him.  Love. 
Go tell him our need,  
Our Liberties bleed,  
And say that my Lord doth command him with speed.  
Plen At that word he comes.  Enter Courage. Courage. 
Boys beat up your drums,  
Are Swordmen abroad, and we picking of crumbs?  
Have we the bold Valour, the Wealth, and the Wit,.  
And shall we be shallowly cheated of it?  
Truth, Plenty, and Love, you all are well met,  
In honester Causes ye ne'er ventured yet,  
We serve a brave Master, who for public good  
Will hazard his Fortune, his Fame, and his Blood:  
Let Love, Truth, and Courage, and Plenty endeavour  
To wait on his person, and serve him for ever.  
Then let every voice like a well skilled Musician  
Discover the progress of Pride and Ambition.  Courage. 
The basest condition  
Is Pride and Ambition,  
It rifles and stifles  
True love and Allegiance.  
'Tis never contented  
Till Time hath consented  
To take off and shake off  
The bonds of Obedience▪  Truth. 
It was a shrewd weed in  
The Garden of Eden.  
It drew out and threw out  
Poor Eve and her Adam.  
'Twas one of the strange ills  
That cast down the Angels  
So steep and so deep  
That no measure can fathom.  Plenty. 
It is but a sad sort of sinning  
And ends with a terrible taste,  
It shows like a Saint in beginning,  
But looks like a Devil at last.  Love. 
Ambition strikes every thing dumb  
That dams up the way of her hope▪  
It often doth aim at a Kingdom,  
And frequently ends in a Rope.  Chorus. All. 
Then since bold ambition doth work such disasters,  
Why should we be Monsters in hope to be Masters;  
That City shall hold out in spite of all weather,  
Where Conscience and Courage are coupled togethers   

The Cheaters Cheated. A Representation in four parts to be Sung, Nim. Filcher, Wat, and Moll, made for the Sheriffs of London.  Enter Nim. a Cheat at one door, and Filcher his fellow at the other. Nim. 

GOod morrow fellow Filcher,  
What, do we sink or swim?  
Thou look'st so like a Pilchard?   Filch. 

Good morrow fellow Nim,  
The Devil's in our destiny,  
I cannot get a pluck.   Nim. 

No, surely if the Devil were in't  
We should have better luck.   Fil. 

2.  
What Star is my director,  
I am in such a state?   Nim. 

Nay, prithee brother Hector  
Do not fall out with Fate;  
For we are fortunes Minions,  
And sight under her banner,  
'Tis she is Queen of all the world.   Fil. 

A mischief light upon her.   

3.  
No money is revealed yet,  
I wonder where it lingers?   Nim. 

The Soldier hath concealed it,  
'Tis fast in iron fingers;  
From whence if we could get it  
By fury or by fraud:  
We had as good attempt to pick  
The Pocket of a Bawd,   Filch. 

4.  
Your roaring Cavalier  
Who when he had the Chink,  
Would bravely domineer  
In dicing, drabs and drink:  
Go ask him now for money  
And he hath none at all,  
Bur cries 'tis in my Compting-house  
In Haberdashers-Hall.   Nim. 

5.  
Our sly Trappanning trade  
Maintained with so much fury,  
Is openly bewrayed  
Both by the Judge and Jury;  
For Lawyers have so many quirks,  
And are such curious skanners,  
That they grow cunninger than we,  
And do trappan Trappanners.   Fil. 

6.  
Our dyceing Trade is down too,  
For when we do begin  
By drilling ways to draw  
A younger Brother in  
The Soldier falls upon us  
And proves the best Projector.   Nim. 

Faith every Red-coat now can make  
A puppy of a Hector.   Enter Wat, a West Countryman. Fil. 

7.  
Stay prithee who comes here,   Nim. 

A gaping Country Clown.   Fil. 

Look how the slave doth stare;   Nim. 

He's newly come to town.   Filch. 

He gazeth in the air as if  
The sky were full of Rockets;  
Let's fleece him.   Nim. 

But how shall we get  
His hands out of his pockets?   Fil. 

8.  
Let me alone for that: I lately bought a glass,  
Wherein all several colours may  
Be seen that ever was,  
If held up thus with both hands.   Nim. 

A pretty new design,  
This trick will fetch his fingers out;   Filch. 

And hay then in go mine.   Tune changeth. Wat. 

9  
Our Taunton den is a dungeon,  
And ●aith I'm glad I'm here,  
This vamous zitty of Lungeon  
Is worth all Zomerzet-zhere:  
In Wagons, in Carts, and in Coaches  
I never did yet see more horse,  
The Wenches do zhine like Roches,  
And as proud as my father's vore horse.   

10.  
I never zince i was able  
To keep my vathers voulds,  
Did ever see such a stable  
As thick a thing called powl's:  
A Mezle in a red Jacket  
Had like to have knack me down,  
Because cheed undertake it  
Held all the beast in the Town   

11.  
Ch'am come to see my Lord Major,  
And thick as do hang the Thiefs,  
Ch've forgot what vine neames they are;  
(A meazle on them) the zhreeves,  
They zay they wear Chains and Scarlets,  
And vollowed by many Guardiants,  
Ch'ave lost the neams of the Varlets,  
A mischief on them, the Sergeants.   

12.  
And now chill walk-my stations  
To every place in Town,  
I mean to buy new vashons,  
Iche have above fifty pound;  
I took't away from father  
When he was gone a vield:  
I'm come away the rather  
'Cause ch'ave got a wench with child.   Filch. 

13.  
The Rainbow never knew  
Such Colours as are here,   Tune change. Filcher and Nim. looking in the glass. Nim. 

Here's Purple, Green and Blue,   Wat. 

Zooks what have they got there.  
Good morrow Master, what d'ye call't,   Filch. 

Good morrow good man clot.   Wat. 

Nay vaith vine Gallant there y'are out  
My Neame is honest Wat.   Fil. 

14.  
I'll show thee such a slight that  
Thou ne'er saw'st honest Wat,  
Neither by day nor night yet.   Wat. 

Yvaith ch'ud laugh at that.   Fil. 

Here take this glass into thy hand  
And hold it to thy eyes,  
Thou there wilt see more colours than  
A Dyar can devise.   Wat. 

15.  
I cannot see a colour yet,   Nim. 

Thou dost not hold it high,   Wat. 

I have't, i have't, ch'av got it now,   Nim. 

I faith and so have I.   Picks his Pocket. Wat. 

Here's black, and blue, and grey, and green,  
And orange-tauny, white;  
And now Ich have lost all again.   Filch. picks t'other Pocket. Fil. 

In troth y'are in the right,   

16.  
Now prithee tell me honest Wat,  
How dost thou like my glass   Wat. 

It is the vittest veat yvaith  
That e'er was brought to pass  
And if that thou wilt spare it  
I'll give thee money down.   Fil. 

I will have nothing for it feels in'● pocket.  
I'll give thee half a Crown.   

17.  
Yvaith cham very willing.   Nim. 

You shall not do it now,  
To give thee vour zhilling,   Filch. Aside. 

'Tis more than you can do.   Nim. 

Farewell good Wat, thou shalt not pay,  
Good morrow Gentlemen;   Wat. 

I'll get me gone for vear that they  
Zhould get my glass again.   Exit Wat. Tune changes Fil. 

18.  
Quick let us share  
For fear of apprehension.   Nim. 

Gusman could ne'er  
Compare with this invention.   Fil. 

That rustic Clown  
Hath brought a happy harvest.   Nim. 

Lay your Money down.   Fil. 

My purse is at your service  
Crown for Crown.   Nim. 

19  
Open the Purse,  
Our Ship of Fortune sail's in't.   Open it. Fil. 

Oh heavy curse  
It hath nothing but nails in't.   Nim. 

ne'er mwn till now  
Were gulled by such a Costard;   Fil. 

If we meet I vow  
we'll bang the bacon bastard  
black and blue.   

20.  
Unlock that font Open the ●ther.  
Let's enter by degrees in't.   Nim. 

A pox upon't,  
There's nought but bread and cheese in't.   Fil. 

Come let's depart  
And drink a Saxon Rumkin.   Nim. 

I am vexed at heart,  
But if I spare the Bomkin,  
Hang me for't.   Exeunt. Enter Moll Medlar Sola, with a Basket. Tune changeth. 

Soldier's fight and Hector's rant on  
Whilst poor Wenches go to rack,  
Who would be a wicked wanton  
Only for Suppers, Songs, and Sack,  
To endure the alteration  
Of these times that are so dead;  
Thus to lead a long vacation  
Without Money, Beer, or Bread.   

22.  
Farewell Bloomsberry and Sodom,  
Lukeners-lane and Turnbull-street,  
Woe was me when first I trod 'em  
With my wild unwary feet.  
I was bred a Gentlewoman,  
But our family did fall  
When the Gentry's coin grew common,  
And the Soldiers shared it all.   

23.  
I was sure unto a Hector  
Who hath basely broke his vow,  
Would I had a good projector  
That would well support me now.  
Who comes here? what simple Thumkin, Ent. Wat.  
Oh! I guess him by his coat,  
This is sure some Country Bumkin,  
Now 'tis time to change my note.   

24.  
Tune changeth, she singeth and danceth. I can dance, and I can sing  
I am good at either,  
And I can do the t'other thing  
When we get together.   

25.  
I have lately lost my dear,  
'Twas a holy Brother;  
If he do not meet me here  
I faith I'll get another.   

26.  
I can nimbly come above,  
I can tumble under,  
And If I do but like my Love,   Wat. 

What Varies that is yonder?   

27.  
'Tis a dainty dancing Girl,  
Zhee would make me gladder,  
Her face doth zyne like mother of Pearl,  
chould choose no more and chad her.   Mol. 

28.  
A Dutchman loves his Pipe and Can,  
A Jew doth like a Turk well,  
But I could hug a Countryman,  
For he will do his work well.   

29.  
Citizens are full of slight,  
They will cog and flatter;  
But a Countryman will do me right.   Wat. 

I long now to be at her.   

30.  
Good morrow Mistress Trip and go,   Mol. 

My Countryman I take it,  
I love you Sir,   Wat 

I'll love thee to,  
And vayth chil veze thy Jacket.   Mol. 

31.  
What's thy name, come tell me that  
Thou shalt be my Jewel?   Wat. 

Why zom vorzooth do call me Wat,  
But my neame is Water-Gruel.   

32.  
Prithee zay, and bened aurayd▪  
Art not thou a Pedlar▪   Mol. 

I live close by in Tickle Yard,  
My name is Mary Medlar.   Wat. 

33.  
Then zweet Moll come buss thy Wat,  
Let us twain be merry:   Mol. 

I could nimbly dance, but that  
My Basket makes we weary.   Wat. 

Give it me, I'll dance a Spring,  
I have no veaver Lurden? He takes her Basket.   Mol. 

If thou wilt dance, than I will sing,  
And thou shalt bear the Burden.   Wat. 

35.  
A match, a match, it's well a vine, Both dance to their own singing.  
We both zhall make some ztuff on't.   Mol. 

Unless thy feet keep pace with mine  
Thou'lt quickly have enough on't.   Wat. 

36.  
Well done Moll,   Moll 

'tis well done Wat,   Wat. 

I'll do it to a tittle,   Mol. 

But I have too much strained my throat,  
I prithee sing a little,   She doth dance off. Wat. 

37.  
Fa la la la liera lo  
This is pretty prancing,  
We will go to Tickle Yard  
When we have done dancing.   

38.  
Now i think ch'av vetcht it up  
Zing a little Mary,  
We will gulge a merry zup,  
Zhuggar and Canary.   

39  
Thou dost dance and make no noise  
Zhall I turn and kiss thee? Turns about and misseth her.  
Prithee let me hear thy voice.  
Hoop where the Devil is she?   

40.  
Zhe hath left me all alone  
Here to mum and mask it,  
But yvaith if zhe be gone  
Ich chill keep her Basket.   

41.  
Here's good vortune come to me  
In a merry minuit,  
Now I'll puttne down and see  
What zhee have gotten in it.   

42.  
Oh! woe, woe, what zhall chee do, Tune changeth, he sets down the Basket and looks in it.  
Che con no know which way to go  
With thick whore here and her vine zong,  
I have a bore her burden too long;  
I may curse the occasion that e'er i came here,  
Would i were again in Zomerzet-zhere.   

43.  
Pulls a Child out of the Basket. O! Lungeon Ich cham undone  
Ch'ave a brungeon a daughter or a zon,  
Thick a jewel hath me beguiled,  
Water Gruel must now veed the child,  
Ich chud never be zorry, but vind it a place  
If i had now but good store of Larzhant;  
It looks Tory rory, and zmells so of Mace,  
That a zure it was got by zome zarzhant. Hushes it, carries it to the men, then to the women.   

44.  
Goodman zhreeve ze, look on the face  
Vor a believe me it may be your own case,  
Honest uree men Ich cham basely begeld,  
Good a woman hold but the cheld,  
I'll but step here hard by, 'tis but home to Taunden,  
And I'll bring ye zom gold in a Casket,  
Thick all are hard hearted both women and men,  
I must march with my youth in a Basket,   Puts it in again to the Basket and Exit. Tune change. Enter Filcher and Nim. Fil. 

45.  
We shall ne'er have lucky minuit,  
None of our designs will hit;   Nim. 

Some ill Planet sure is in it,  
Fortune makes a fool of wit:  
All our feats  
Are simple cheats,  
And destiny will have it so.   Fil. 

There's nothing hits  
But with those wits  
That cheat Cum Privilegio.   Nim. 

The holy drum  
And godly gun  
Are now the only Engines that  
Make Pimp and Whore  
And Hector poor,  
And wise men do they know not what.   Fil. 

46.  
All our joyful days do leave us,   Nim. 

Never were such times as these,   Fil. 

Every Bumkin can deceive us   Nim. 

With hobnails   Fil. 

and with bread and cheese.   Nil. 

Though we missed it  
He confessed it  
That he brought up fifty pound,   Nim. 

Where he did it  
How he hid it  
Is the plot that may be found.   Filch. 

If we meet him  
We will fit him.   Nim. 

Hark I here one coming in  
Very pleasant They retreat to several corners.  
'Tis the Peasant   Filch. 

Now let's to our guards again.   Tune changeth. Enter Wat with a little Trunk on a stick banging at his back. [Wat] 

47.  
Now farawel Lungeon Iche may zing,  
I'll no more here until the next spring,  
C have put in security vor the thing,  
Which no body can deny.   

48.  
I did a veat in Zomerzet-Zhere  
Which vorst me at virst to zee vashons here,  
Ich cham out of the urying pan into the vere,  
I either must burn or urye.   

49.  
In plush and in zatten a vynely wrought,  
Ich c have laid out forty pound every groat,   Fil. 

I want a silk Waistcoat,   Nim. 

I lack a plush Coat,   Wat. 

Ch' have puttne all in the Trunk.   

50.  
Here's zilk and gold, and zilver strings,  
Fil. comes alone to Wat. Here's Gloves, silk Hozen, Points, and Rings.   Fil. 

Stand   Wat. 

what are you   Fil. 

Lay down your things.  
Why zure the Meazle is drunk.   

51.  
What would ye do to a poor Country man,   Nim. 

First lay down your Trunk, you shall know more anon:   Wat. 

And a very vine way to have my Trunk gone:   Filch. 

Do so or I'll knock thee down.   Wat. 

52.  
Nay vaith good man Gentle since ch' have zeen it man  
I'll lay it down there, and if i can win it  
Thou zhalt have my Trunk and all that is in it:  
'Twill cost above forty pound.   Fil. 

53.  
I'll have as much blood as thy heart can afford. Filch. dra● and fights.   Wat. 

Thou cowardly knave, wilt thou vight with▪ zword;  
But since 'tis but one, Ich che care not a Twoord,  
And what do you think of another.   Nim. draw● Nim. 

54.  
This Rapier I thorough thy body will run,   Wat. 

Ud zooks there's no vighting with two again one,  
Ich che rather will trust to my legs and be gone.   Exit. Wat. Fil. 

Why now gramercy brother.   Nim. 

55.  
The rascal already is run out of sight,   Fil. 

His hands are vile heavy.   Nim. 

His legs are 〈◊〉 light,  
The Plush for a Jacket, I claim as my right,   Fil. 

Which really I deny.  
For was it not I that proved the Projector.   Nim. 

But if this good sword had not been your Protector,  
The clown would have made you a pitiful Hector,  
And beaten you.   Fil. 

Sirrah ye lie.   

57  
My force hath been tried against Castles and Towers▪  
The prize as it lies is equally ours,  
Let victory make it out mine or yours,   Nim. 
I grant it with all my heart.  They fight. Enter Mol. Mol. 

58.  
What mad men are these! pray what do you mean,  
I never did see such a sorrowful scene;  
Nay sweet Mr. Filcher   Fi. 

stand further ye Quean,  
I'll make the proud Rascal smart.   Mol. 

59  
You always were friends, what makes ye fall out?  
Pray tell me true, what is the quarrel about?   Nim. 

This duel will suddenly end all the doubt:   Mol. 

I'll suffer between your swords. They make passes. Moll is between.   

60.  
ere such a kind couple of Hector's as ye  
Shall squabble and quarrel for Paddington-tree.  
jack Filcher, Tom Nim, be counselled by me,  
Deliver your Cause in words,   

61.  
You know that the Law against Duels is high▪   Nim. 

That Rodomont ado there gave me the lie,   Mol. 

Pray do but consider that Tyburn is nigh;   Nim. 

That very word cools my wrath.   

62.  
For my own part I only would live by my Trade,   Fil. 

The Bargain betwixt us must end by the blade;   Mol. 

Pray let me but know the conditions ye made,  
I'll judge it between ye both.   Fil. 

63.  
I'll tell you then how the quarrel did rise,  
This fellow and I have took a rich prize,   Nim. 

And now he denies me my share in't.   Fil. 

he lies,  
We agreed that the sword should decide it.   

64  
This Trunk is well furnished as e'er it can hold,  
With silk and with velvet, with silver and gold.   Mol. 

Turned all into money, and when it is sold,  
You equally may divide it.   

65.  
But first what assurance have you when you win it,  
'Tis worth all this danger   Nim. 

We yet have not see▪   [Mol.] 

Why then let us open't and see what is in it,  
That every thing may be shown.   Nim. 

66.  
A match, let her break the Trunk open and see   Mol. 

It may be by this means you'll sooner agree.   Fil. 

Faith open't or shut it 'tis all one to me, Moll opens The trunk.  
I vow I'll have all or none.   Mol. 

67.  
Then look on your bargain, you both are beguiled, Moll tak● out th● child▪  
Pray tell me if this be the velvet three piled,  
Is this figured satin?   Nim. 

I vow 'tis a child.  
You swore you'd have all or none.   Fil. 

68  
I'll stand to my bargain, for I will have none.   Nim. 

What? can you so suddenly alter your tone.   Mol. 

Come kiss it and love it, for faith 'tis your own.  
Remember when we were alone.   

69.  
For this pretty Babe I have shed many showers,  
And suffered a thousand disconsolate hours,  
As sure as 'tis mine, I'm certain it's yours,  
I never knew Man but you.   Fil. 

70.  
These Projects to me are Riddles and Charms,  
How came the child hither?   Mol. 

For fear of worse harms,  
I left it even now in a Countreymans' arms,  
A fellow that I never knew.   

71.  
'Twas left to be lost though the plot would not hit▪  
I never could see you to tell you of it,  
A Countryman brought it.   Fil. 

A pox of his wit,  
I would I were rid of my life.   Mol. 

72.  
Before I knew Filcher, I was a pure Maid,  
Pray do but Remember the Contract we made;  
You said you would wed me, and live by your trade,   Fil. 

I'll presently make thee My Wife.   Mol. 

73.  
For all the world's wealth I will ne'er be a whore.   Fil. 

I'll purchase new Credit upon an old score.   Nim. 

I'll deal in these damnable courses no more.   All. 

We every one will mend.   Fil. 

74.  
I never will quarrel, or swagger and roar,   Nim. 

Then make the poor Simpletons pay all the score.   Mol. 

I never will do as I have done before.   All. 

We every one will mend.   Enter Wat Solus. [Watchman] Tune chang● 

75.  
Ch' have overcome my voes,  
And Watty now is uree;  
It is no zin to cozen those,  
That would have cheated me:   

76.  
Had i but met with one,  
I had not been o'remastered;  
Ich i wonder what they thought upon,  
when they did vind the Bastard.   

77.  
Did ever vellow vinde  
Zuch zimple zots as these,  
To leave my fifty pounds behind,  
And steal my Bread and Cheese:   

78.  
These zitty thiefs are fooled,  
That meant to do me hurt,  
The Measles could not vind my gold,  
i knittne in my zhurt;   

79.  
Ich i cannot choose but zmile,  
That men who can talk latin,  
Zhould be zuch fools to take a Child  
Vor velvet, zilk, and zatten:   

80.  
But Pride will have a fall,  
The Proverb zaith as much;  
Now how do you my Measters all,  
Ich cham come to laugh a touch.   

81.  
God bless my Lady Zhreeve,  
And all that noble pack;  
Ch'am almost dead with grief,  
I want a cup a sack.   

82.  
God zave my master too,  
And zend him to live long;  
Vayth now ch'a nothing else to do,  
I'll zing a merry zong.   

A Song on the twelve Companies.  

83.  
THe other day among many papers,  
I vowned a vine zong of the Merchants and  
Drapers.  
The Grocers, the Goldsmiths, the Tailors and Skinners,  
And many zuch vinical zinners.   

1 Mercers. 84.  
The Mercer virst a vine dapper blade is,  
He zells ye zoft zattin, and very well paid is;  
He makes his Commodity cover the Ladies,  
So zoft and zweet his Trade is.   

2. Grocers. 85.  
The Grocer lays his zhuggered baits,  
He loves to have his zhip zail in the Straits;  
He deals for sweet Almonds, Prunelloes, and Dates,  
With Ladies as light as his weights.   

3. Drapers. 86.  
The Draper's next in my fancy doth hover.  
It is the best Trade betwixt Barwick and Dover;  
But when his zhort Yard the women discover,  
They will have a handful over.   

4. Fishmongers. 87.  
And now have at the Fishmonger's jacket▪  
It proves a good trade as the Taverns do make it:  
But of all the vish in the zoea I'll undertake it,  
He'd rather have a virgin naked.   

5. Goldsmiths. 88  
The Goldsmith's stall will make me to stop,  
For Goldsmiths-Hall hath been a great prop;  
Of all the rich mysteries this is the top,  
The Tower was a Goldsmith's zhop.   

6. Merchant-Taylors. 89.  
The Merchant-Taylors may not be outed,  
His Calling hath been ere zince Adam was routed:  
A zuit makes a Gallants wealth not to be doubted,  
That is but a Beggar without it.   

7. Skinners. 90.  
The Skinner's hate Ich i must not incur,  
He covers the Corpse of your Worshipful Zur,  
And cleaves to your Alderman's back like a burr,  
Whose lining is Voxes vur.   

8. Haberdashers. 91.  
Your Haberdasher's Art i may call,  
The only fine trade that doth cover us all;  
But woe to the Cavalier that did fall  
Into Haberdashers-Hall.   

9 Salter's. 92.  
The Zalters' trade we zhall not omit,  
The Scholars zay Zalt is an Emblem of Wit;  
But vaith I believe they love a uresh bit,  
When Mutton and Capers meet.   

10. Iron-mongers. 93.  
The fame of Iron-mongers do ring,  
The strength of the Mettle can conquer a King;  
The Helmet, Musket, and Gauntlet can bring  
A Sceptre out of a Sling.   

11. Vintners. 94.  
The Vintner's Art but view men do know,  
Vor it is a zience too zuttle to zhow;  
The Devil and he a Conjuring go,  
When both are a brewing below.   

12. Clothworkers. 95.  
The Clothworkers trade is a very vine thing,  
And of all the Trades may be counted the King;  
But yet he will merrily tipple and zing,  
Till his wits go a Woolgathering.   

96.  
And now I● i hope no Tradesman will take  
Exzeptions at me for my merriment sake;  
Their Trades are all good, but the Vintner's the bonniest,  
God bless them and make them all honest.   

97.  
Ic che now will go home to Zomerzetzheere,  
And tell all the 〈◊〉 what vine things are here;  
I'll jog to my 〈◊〉 and see what God hath zent her,  
And I'll come here again next Winter.    
End of the Representations.    



Acrostiches,  
Annagrams,  
Epigrams,  
Elegies, AND Epitaphs.    

Acrostiches.  

An Acrostich on Mrs. Hester Noy.  

How much I am obliged to your worth,  
Each faculty I have cannot set forth;  
Sure I shall die in debt, unless you please  
To bind me more by granting a Release:  
Excellent Lady, may the Powers above  
Reward you with those joys which Angels love.   

Nothing that hath affinity with ill  
Oppose your understanding or your will,  
Your Virtues, which so copiously extend,  
Eternity can only comprehend.    

A double Acrostich on Mrs. Susanna Blunt.  
Sweet Soul of goodness, in whose Saintlike breast  
Virtue Vows dwelling to make Beauty blest;  
Sure Sighing Cytherea sits, your Eyes  
Are Altars whereon she might sacrifice:  
Now None will of the Paphean Order be,  
nature's New work transcends a Deity;  
Arabia's Aromaticks court your scent,  
Bright Beauty makes your Gazer's eloquent;  
Let Little Cupid his lost eyes obtain,  
Veiled, Viewing you, would strike him blind again.  
Nay, Never think I flatter, If you be  
Thus To none else, by Love, you are to Me.   

An Acrostic on two pairs of inseparable Friend's who were Married in one Day● A fourfold Acrostic.  
jove I oyn these Pairs, and May each blessed Bride  
Obtain A guard of Angels for A Guide.  
Heaven, Nature, Virtue, Reason in communion,  
Nobilitate every, and Love Your union:  
Grace Faith and Knowledge Bind ye, may you be  
Each Others bliss, No evil Injure ye.  
Let nothing Re-divide; Eternal Rest,  
Love, Dwell and Last in each Diviner Breast.   

A cross Acrostic on two Crossed Lovers.  
Though crossed in our Affections, still the flames  
Of Honour shall secure our noble Names;  
Nor shall Our fate divorce our faith, Or cause  
The least Mislike of love's Diviner laws.  
Crosses sometimes Are cures, Now let us prove,  
That no strength Shall Abate the power of love:  
Honour, Wit, Beauty, Riches wise men call,  
Frail Fortune's Badges, In true love lies all.  
Therefore to him we Yield, our Vows shall be  
Paid;— Read and written in Eternity:  
That All may know when men grant no Redress,  
Much love can sweeten the unhappiness S.   

An Epithalamium in a double Acrostic, written on the noble Names and sacred Nuptials of the worthily honoured EWDWARD MARROW Esquire, and the most truly virtuous Mrs. ANNE GRANTHAM.  
Eminent Pair! what ever Sidney saw in Argalus and his PARTHENIA  
Doth figure out your Excellence; how then shall I depict ye with so poor a Pen  
What powers shall I implore? Apollo's gone, for whom my Muse lies drenched in HelicoN  
Arts are malignant, Poems out of date, the Layman calls Learning a ReprobatE  
Reason is banished, and what e'er did spring from those fair banks where peace was flourishinG  
Divinest pair, whose bright perfections are more luminary than the morning Star  
May all the pleasures Phoebus ever saw in Europe, Asia, or AMERICA  
Attend your genial joys; what Nature can contribute to the excellence of maN  
Redouble your felicity; may night and day contend which shall yield most delighT  
Riches and honour, virtue (the best wealth) beauty, with all the circumstance of healtH  
Obey your wish: and he that will not pray as I have done, is Love's AnathemA  
War never fright ye, wherefoe're you come may bright Apollo's harp drown Mars his druM   

Intemperance.  
A Fancy upon Words.  

HE that's devoted to the— GLASS,  
The Dice or a lascivious— LASS,  
At his own price is made an— ASS.   

He that is greedy of the— GRAPE,  
On Reason doth commit a— RAPE,  
And changeth habit with an— APE.   

The Lover whose Devotion— FLIES  
Up to the Sphere where Beauty— LIES,  
Makes Burning-glasses of his— EIES.   

If long he to that Idol— PRAY,  
His sight, by Love's inflaming— RAY,  
Is lost for ever and for— AY.    

An Epitaph in a double Acrostich, composed and fixed on the Stone of Mrs. Joan Ward.  
In this plain piece of humble earth lies one  
Whom no unworthy feet should tread upon,  
One whose chaste life did very much improve  
ADaughters duty and a Sister's love;  
Almighty God was still her Contemplation,  
Religion was her daily recreation:  
Nothing came in her maiden thoughts that could  
Denle the fountain of her Virgin blood;  
Eternal joys contain her now, let's then  
Mourn all until we meet with her again.    

ANNAGRAMS.  

CHARLES' STUART: Annagram, AS CLEAR AS TRUTH.  
Exposition.  
CHARLES' STUART makes it out in age and youth,  
His Name and Nature are as CLEAR AS TRUTH.   

CHARLES' STUART: Annagr. CALLS TRUE HEARTS.  
Expo.  
What man who either doth love Arms or Arts,  
That goes not when Charles Stuart, calls true hearts.   

PARLIAMENT: Annagr. I TRAP ALL MEN.  
Expo.  
When the Long Parliament was sitting, than  
This Annagram was right, I TRAP ALL MEN.   

OLIVER CROMWELL: Annagr. RULE WELL OR I COM.  
Expo.  
RULE WELL OR I COM cried the red nosed Jew,  
'Tis just (since you trap all men) I trap you.   

ROUND— HEADS: Annagr. HEAVEN'S ROD.  
Expo.  
When Cavaliers by sin offended God,  
The bloody Roundheads were made HEAVEN'S ROD.   

TEACHERS: Annagram. CHEATERS. SAINTS: An. STAINS.  
Ex.  
When Heresy creeps into factious Brains,  
TEACHERS are CHEATERS, and such SAINTS are STAINS.   

MINISTER: An. MENTIRIS.  
Ex.  
When Presbyter inflamed with a false fire is,  
A man may tell him, MINISTER, MENTIRIS.   

LOST: An. STOLE.  
Ex.  
This Annagram mysterious sense may boast,  
For what is STOLE is found in what was LOST.   

TOAST: An. A SOT.  
Ex.  
A TOAST is like A SOT, or what is most,  
Comparative, A Sot is like a Toast;  
For when their substances in liquor sink,  
Both properly are said to be in Drink.  
End of the Annagrams.    

Epigrams.  

1. Epigram.  
A Knight and's Man, both being at an Inn,  
The Knight having well eaten, did begin  
To say to's Servant, john I have supped well,  
Have our horse done so too? I cannot tell,  
Replied the Man, for aught I know they may,  
I'm sure I saw the Oastler take away.   

2. Epigr.  
One said Paul's Church looked with the Steeple on it,  
Just like a Trunk with a hat-case upon it;  
No, quoth another, 'tis not likeed at all,  
I'll tell you what 'tis like, 'tis like to fall.   

3. Epigr.  
Sim seeing Harry have a broken head,  
Asked against what he broke it; Harry said,  
Against a thing that often doth me ill,  
To tell you true, I brokeed against my will.   

4. Epigr.  
Three Scholars having barely dined, and growing  
A little wanton after it; were throwing  
Their bones at one another, a fourth Man,  
Who had with plenty dined himself, began  
To tell them that their sport was very dull,  
Which did declare their bellies were not full,  
And in a word his meaning thus expressed,  
If they were full, your bones would be at rest.   

5. Epigram.  
A Knave and Whore of modesty bereft,  
Being at that Sport which will ne'er be left,  
Against a Gate, in a place very wide,  
Was questioned of a friend, by whom they were 'spi'd,  
Why he would deal with such a dirty Slut  
In a wide field, against a Gate too? but  
The other made reply, pray do not prate,  
The Slut is good enough to prop-a-gate.   

6. Epigr.  
A Sergeant sitting at the Compter-gate,  
Fell fast asleep, which made another straight  
Grow something witty, and to break a jest,  
This fellow, says he, sure hath none to arrest;  
And, in mere spightfulness, this envious Elf  
(The Sergeant) is Arresting of himself.   

7. Epigr.  
On Mr. Garret, and Mr. Chambers.  
Garret and his Friend Chambers, having done  
Their City business, went to Paddington,  
And coming near that fatal place where men  
(I mean Offenders) ne'er return again;  
Looking on Tyburn in a merriment,  
Quoth Chambers, here's a pretty Tenement,  
Had it a Garret: Garret hearing that,  
Replied, Friend Chambers, I do wonder at  
Your simple censure, you prate like a Parrot,  
There must be Chambers e'er there be a Garret.   

8. Epigram.  
On a Lady whose name was Mrs. Brown.  
We praise the fair, and our Inventions wrack,  
In pleasing Sonnets to applaud the Black;  
We court this Lady's Eye, that Mistress Hair,  
The fair love black, the black affect the fair;  
Yet neither sort I court, I dote upon  
Nor fair nor black, but a complexion  
More rare then either, she that is the Crown  
Of my entire affection is Brown.  
And yet she's fair, 'tis strange, how can it be,  
That two Complexions can in one agree;  
Do I love Brown, my Love can please my eye,  
And sat my narrowest Curiosity:  
If I like fa●r, she hath so sweet a grace,  
A man might leave an Angel for her face.  
Let any judge then which Complexion's rarest,  
In my opinion she is Brown that's fairest.   

9 Epigram.  
On a little Gentleman, and Mr. Story a tall man.  
This little Blade (by th'other man's vain glory  
It seems was roughly used, (so says the Story)  
But being strongly heated, and high flown,  
In rage he flies on Story, pulls him down:  
But when they ris, I know not how it fated,  
One got the worst, the Story was translated  
From white to red, but e'er the fight was ended,  
It seems one, whom the little man befriended,  
Came in and parted them; the little Blade  
There's no man could entreat, nor yet persuade,  
But he would fight still, till another came,  
And with persuasions counselled against the same,  
'Twas in this manner, Friend, you shall not fight  
With one that's so unequal to your height.  
Story is tall; the other made reply,  
I'd pluck him down, were he three Stories high.   

10. Epigram.  
On Maypoles.  
Hypocrites are like those Maypoles they mock,  
Rootless and fruitless, with a Weathercock.   

11. Epigram.  
On a red nosed Parson.  
A jolly Parson of a comely grace,  
Who partly carried his hot zeal in's face,  
Being at's Inn, and sitting by the fire,  
A pipe of good Tobacco doth require;  
The boy strait brings it him, and to his hand  
Commits it with a kindled firebrand;  
But as he was at lighting on't, some small  
Sparks from the coal upon his hand did fall:  
The witty boy perceiving these mishaps,  
Cries, Mr. Parson, hold Sir, your nose drops.   

12. Epigram.  
There was a time a difference began  
Betwixt a Welshman and an English man,  
Each praising of his Country, did express  
How much they did abound in fruitfulness;  
The Englishman did tell the Welshman, that  
There was a piece of ground he had been at,  
In York shire, which so fruitful was of grass,  
That when a staff was thrown into't, it was  
In one night's time so overgrown, they could  
Not see't next day: The Welshman cries out, hold,  
That was not worth the praising, In our Land,  
Quoth Taffie, I would have you understand,  
We have such grass, that turn your horse i' th' ground▪  
And before morning come, he shan't be found.  
End of the Epigrams▪    

Elegies and Epitaphs of two sorts, woeful and witty.  

An Elegy and Epitaph composed acrostichally on two names occasioned by the Death of Mrs. MARY KETTLE, Wife to Mr. HUMPHREY KETTLE of Hollow-way beyond Islington; she died in Childbed.  

Hang all the Rooms with Black, let none appear  
Unless he can dissolve into a tear,  
Modesty, Loyalty, and Love are all  
Put in this Cos●in, 'tis their Funeral  
Heaven hath took more good than 'twill (I fear)  
Return the world again these hundred year:  
Every Grace that makes a happy life  
You might have found in this dead virtuous Wife.   

Knowledge and true Humility were met  
Exactly in this curious Cabinet;  
Truth was her guide, for she (we'll boldly say)  
Travelled from Hollow-way the Holy way:  
Let all therefore that wish their own souls safe  
Endeavour to deserve her Epitaph.    

The Epitaph on her Name.  

Mourn good Reader, here lies one  
As chaste in life as this cold stone;  
Religion, Grace, and so much good  
Yet ne'er dwelled in flesh and blood.   

Kind as Saints, no sweeter Bride  
Ever blest a Husband's side,  
That in Childbed sheet was driven  
To be truly Churched in Heaven,  
Led by Angels, where the King  
Eternal Crowns the gossiping.    

An Elegy and Epitaph on the Death of William Barckley, Esquire, one of the Aldermen of the City of London.  
STay and release my wonder you that can  
Resolve what may complete a perfect man,  
So absolute that future times may well  
Admire at, but shall never parallel;  
Let him be wise, and learned, his better part  
Be richly furnished with transcendent Art;  
Let nature be his friend, and in his mind  
Let Virtues choice endowments be refined:  
He will come short of him, whose body lies  
At this time ●loating in his Mourners eyes;  
For in this Monument is one in whom  
Faith, Hope, and Charity took up their room:  
One who hath gathered Virtues since his Birth,  
Enough to crown a man in Heaven and Earth;  
When Acts of Equity were in his trust  
He ever was both merciful and just:  
The Poor he pitied, but his soul was ne'er  
To wicked greatness an Idolater;  
He had indeed a heart which the worst times  
Could never tempt to profitable Crimes,  
His thoughts were pure, his actions free, his store  
Was made a good Exchequer for the Poor:  
Though Envy oft on Envy doth attend,  
He forced Envy's self to be his friend.  
Forbear more words (my fant'sie) thou'rt too weak,  
Great griefs are silent when small sorrows speak;  
Although his body sleep till the day come  
That shall unite him to his ancient home;  
His soul is mounted on Seraphic Wings,  
Unto the Mansion of the King of Kings.   

The Epitaph.  

Weep Reader, weep, for if we see  
Thy Fountains dry, no man will be  
Persuaded to relent for thee.   

In this Monumental clay  
Lies pious dust till it obey  
The Summons of the latter day.   

You that ransack Earth and Skies  
For all worth which good men prize,  
Look no further, Here it lies.   

But (to sum up all in brief)  
He whose eyes are void of grief  
Hath a heart without belief.   

He whose soul doth not desire  
To weep before it do retire  
Would laugh were all the world on fire.    

An Epitaph on a Child.  

Ladies that are young and wise  
Shall I tell you of a prize,  
Here a box of beauty lies.   

A Jewel hid from vulgar view,  
Whose excellency if you knew,  
Your eyes would drop like morning dew.   

Dame Nature's Diamond which when  
She saw it was too high for men,  
Showed it, and shut it up again.    

An Epitaph supposed to be written by A Gentleman 〈◊〉 himself, who died of a Disease, called by the nam● of a Bad Wife.  

Nay tread and spare not Passenger,  
My sense is now past feeling,  
Who to my grave a wound did bear  
Within, past Physics healing.   

But do not (if thou be to wed)  
To read my story tarry,  
Lest thou creep into my cold bed  
rather than live to marry.   

For a long strife with a lewd wife  
Worst of all ill beside,  
Made me grow weary of my life,  
So I fell sick and died.    

An Epitaph on Mr. John Kirk, Merchant.  
Reader, within this Dormitory lies  
The wet Memento of a Widow's Eyes,  
A Kirk, though not of Scotland, one in whom  
Loyalty lived, and Faction found no room.  
No Conventicle-Christian, but he died  
A Kirk of England by the Mother's side:  
In brief, (to let you know what you have lost,  
Kirk was a Temple of the Holy Ghost.  
An end of the Elegies and Epitaphs.   

A Canting Rogue Paralleled with a Fanatic.  
IS the world's running Ulcer, an unfixed  
Piece of mortality, begot betwixt  
A Tinker and his Doxy in a Den  
Of Filchers, which they call the bowzing ken:  
Nursed by a maunding Mort, whose Mother tongue  
Directs him first the way to Nipp a Bung,  
And mill the lower from him whose gazing eyes  
Are fixed upon London's varieties,  
That the sad Country man is forced to score  
At's lodging, till he be supplied with more,  
Whilst the impatient Lawyer makes a pause,  
Pernicious enough to spoil his Cause:  
Nor can the ablest Council tell him when,  
Or by what trick to gain his purse again.  
Thus is poor Colter poisoned with a drench,  
Made of Law Latin, and low Pedlars French.  
A Language which admits no derivation  
But is entire and had its generation,  
Without dispute, from Babel Tower's conclusion,  
For it is used in nothing but confusion,  
As Prigging Prancers, Tipping Nabs, and such  
Phrases as make the slovenly Low Dutch  
A polite Dialect; he is one whose bane  
Doth much participate with that of Cain,  
The Brother-killing Precedent, whose fate  
Gives him the title of a Runagate;  
His body is his land, and every louse  
Upon't, are Cattle, the next hedge, his house;  
He pretends Palmistry, and as he passes,  
Through Villages, the gamesome Country Lasses  
Do get about him, and do much importune  
The Rogue with meat, to tell them a good fortune;  
Or else they'll give him nothing, and (to ease 'em  
In their desires) the Knave knows how to please 'em;  
He and the Annabaptists were in season,  
One canted Felony, and another's Treason:  
And if his Mort with a French Coltstaff strike,  
'Tis ten to one they snuffle both alike;  
Both preach in Barns, and teach in the same tones,  
One storms a Hen-roost, another's strikes at Thrones,  
Both hate Authority, for they be often crossed,  
One with the Noose, t'other the Whipping-poast.  
In point of Baptism, for aught I know,  
The Rogue's the better Christian of the two:  
The Annabaptist in his teaching tone  
Defies Godfathers, he'll have twelve or none;  
In Marriages the Rogue and He accords,  
For man and wife take one another's words,  
And very fruitful in their spawn they be,  
Both deal in liberty and Lechery:  
To conclude all, they are a brace of men  
That are so like, they are the worse again;  
Whose dispositions could a Limner paint,  
You'd not know which is Rogue, or which is Saint.   

On the Ordinance prohibiting Cavaliers to wear Swords, April, 1646.  
YOu of the Royalty, attend your Summons,  
'Tis this day Ordered by the Lords and Commons  
Assembled in that sacred place which we  
Must look upon as England's destiny,  
That all such dreadful men whose fame doth ring  
For active Loyalty to God and King,  
Laws and their native Liberties, shall be  
Disarmed and made a Swordless Cavalry;  
For some such cause as formerly was given  
When men were levied against Charles and Heaven,  
At that time when the Public Faith withstood  
The Creed and Plate was melted into Blood,  
When Subjects sought their Master to betray  
At the old rate of thirty pence a day;  
When Prentices against all Rules of Reason  
Were early Freemen in the Trade of Treason,  
When by the Factious Commons wise forecasting,  
Triaenial was a word for Everlasting;  
When the Mad Shires did with Petitions run,  
Humbly desiring they may be undone;  
Not dreaming that our English Inquisitions  
Did only sit to answer such Petitions;  
When statesmen's Trunks were filled up to the brim,  
In Anno Primo Regni johannis Pym:  
With more such reasons which are yet unknown,  
You are to lay your Bloody Bilbo's down,  
And march disbladed, since the House of Lords  
Have voted Honest men must wear no Swords.  
And shall this daunt your Royal Spirits that  
Have gained a Fame time cannot ruinate;  
Your Enemies, though with a wrong pretence,  
Have done you right, and put your Innocence  
In the true garb, when did you ever see  
Innocence figured with Artillery?  
What need you Weapons since there is not one  
Of worth enough to draw your Sword upon  
That's not your Sovereign's Friend, and is't not pity,  
On the sinister spawn of a Committee,  
To vent your valiant wrath, calm your high passion,  
They dare as well do that deserves damnation  
In such an Act that's pardon proof as see  
You wear your Swords, it is their jealousy,  
Of you, their King, nay even of their God,  
When have you known Children delight the Rod?  
So Cowards when their paler fears increase,  
Take blows, and subtly bind men to the Peace:  
What need you mutter that your Swords are gone,  
Since you may see justice herself hath none;  
Your Valour is not questioned, 'tis for that  
You are disarmed, nor do they wonder at  
Your swordless side, for all that justly owe  
Allegiance to Valour, truly know,  
A bladeless Cavalier can more afford,  
Then he whose thigh is branded with a Sword;  
Be not dismayed (and you in time shall see)  
The King's Cause hath an occult Quality;  
Your Swords are needless, sing, be merry, and  
Pray for the King, 'tis fit you understand,  
Man's ineffectual aid is vain and light,  
When He that made the hand intends to fight;  
For you will find when Rebels Race is run  
They shall be conquered without Sword or Gun.   

On a view of London and Westminster on t'other side the Water. 1658.  
THis pair of sinful Cities, we, with sorrow,  
May parallel with Sodom and Gomorrah,  
Though one Crime greater than they durst do there,  
(Never to be forgot) was acted here;  
Cities so pampered up with prosperous sins,  
That (if they could) they'd ravish Cherubins,  
Cramp their Creator, and with popular stings  
Destroy him 'cause he is the King of Kings.  
A Perjured Pair, who to secure their own  
Will Pimp whilst Fornication tups the Throne,  
Prostitute sacred Places, keep the Door  
Where each Lay-Lecher makes the Church a Whore▪  
They swallow Oaths and wicked Protestations,  
And, with their Axe, cut off (God grant me patience)  
The Head of— Peace, therefore they are, be 't known,  
A Decolated Corporation.  
In brief he ne'er shall be who, sides with them,  
A Citizen of New Jerusalem.   

The Players Petition to the Long Parliament, after being long Silenced, that they might Play again, 1642.  
HEroick Sirs, you glorious nine or ten,  
That can dispose the King or the King's men,  
Who by sublimer Rhetoric agree  
That Prisons are the Subjects Liberty;  
And though we brought in Silver at low rates,  
Ye plunder to secure us our Estates,  
Your serious subtlety is born so grave,  
We dare not tell you how much Power ye have;  
Or else you dare not hear us, how ye frown  
If we but say King Pym wears Charles his Crown:  
Such a word's Treason, and you must not hear it,  
Treason to speak it, and yet none to wear it.  
Oh! wise mysterious what shall we  
Do for such men as you e'er forty three  
Be quite expired, and an unlucky season  
Shall put a period to Triaenial Treason?  
When Master Pym your wise judicious Scholar  
Ascends his Throne, and takes his Crown in Collar:  
When the Fields pitched, and some (for all their skill)  
Shall fight a fearful Battle on Tower-hill,  
When Canterbury coming forth, shall wonder  
You have so long secured him from the thunder  
Of your King-hunting Prentices, and the Major  
Shall justle zealous Isaac from his Chair;  
Then Cheapside Cross shall be new guilt, new painted,  
Gregory be made a Sheriff, and Tyburn sainted:  
Foreknowing Brooks, thou drewest a happy lot,  
'Twas a wise bolt although it was soon shot.  
But whilst you reign, our low Petition craves  
That we, the King's true Subjects, and your Slaves  
May in our Comic Mirth and Tragic Rage  
Set open the Theatre and show the Stage;  
The Shop of Truth and Fancy, where we vow  
Not to act any thing you'll disallow;  
We will not dare at your strange Votes to jeer,  
Or personate King Pym with his State fleer:  
Aspiring Catiline shall be forgot,  
Bloody Sejanus, or who ere could plot  
Confusion against a State, the War betwixt  
The Parliament and just Harry the sixth,  
Shall have no thought or mention, 'cause their power  
Not only placed, but lost him in the Tower;  
Nor will we parallel with least suspicion,  
Your Synod with the Spanish Inquisition,  
Or like the grave advice of learned Pym,  
Make a Malignant, and then Plunder Him.  
All these and such like actions that may mar  
Your soaring plots, or show you what you are,  
We shall omit, lest our inventions shake 'em,  
Why should the men be wiser than you'll make 'em:  
Methinks there ●hould not such a difference be  
●Twixt your Professions and our Quality.  
You Meet, Plot, Act, talk high with minds immense,  
The like with us, but only we speak sense  
Inferior unto yours, we can tell how  
To depose Kings, there we know more than you;  
Although not more than what ye would, so we  
Do in our vaster Priv'ledges agree;  
But that yours are the larger, and controls,  
Not only Lives and Fortunes, but men's souls;  
Declaring by an Enigmatick sense,  
A privilege on each man's Conscience;  
As if the Trinity could not consent  
To save a Soul, but by the Parliament:  
We make the people laugh at some vain show,  
And, as they laugh at us, they do at you,  
Only i'th' contrary we disagree,  
For you can make them cry faster than we▪  
Your Tragedies more real are expressed,  
You murder men in earnest, we in jest;  
There we come short, but if you follow't thus,  
Some wise men fear you will come short of us.  
As humbly as we did begin, we pray,  
Dear Schoolmasters, you'll give us leave to Play,  
Quickly before the King comes, for we would  
Be glad to say, y''ve done a little good  
Since ye have sat, your play is almost done,  
As well as ours, would 't had ne'er been begun;  
But we shall find, ere the last Act be spent,  
Enter the King, Exit the Parliament,  
And hay then up go we, who by the frown  
Of guilty Members have been voted down.  
Yet you may still remain, and sit, and vote,  
And through your own beam see your brother's mote,  
Until a legal trial show how  
Y'ave used the King, and hay then up go you.  
So pray your humble slaves (with all their powers)  
That when they have their due you may have yours.     

SONGS.  
The Royal Vision.  

The Tune of Greece and Troy.  

1.  
LAte being tired out in a tedious march,  
I stretched my wearied limbs  
Under a Willow Arch;  
In such a shade by passion hurled,  
Men crossed in love elect,  
That fain would leave the world  
At such a season, when the sweet choir of fowls  
Had left the neighbouring thickets  
To the rule of Bats and Owls:  
Close by the flowery fringed verge of a stream,  
Sleeping ceizing all my senses  
Strait I thus began to dream.   

2.  
To my afflicted faith appeared▪  
A Princely person that  
Was all in blood besmeared;  
The ruin'd raiments that she wore,  
Were Kingly mourning Purple,  
All besprinkled with gore;  
From her exuberous eyes troops of tears trickled down  
Her head did wear a Church,  
Invested with a battered Crown;  
Many a woeful wound her body did bear,  
Like one fled from the furious hands  
Of some salt Ravisher.   

3.  
On her Imperial Front she wears  
ENGLAND  
In golden Characters;  
But so demolished now they show,  
As monumental letters made  
A thousand years ago:  
Then as a torrent whose swift course was restrained,  
Her floodgates all flew open,  
And with woe she thus complained:  
Oh whither bear you all my bees thus in swarms!  
What fury so affrights ye,  
That ye beat these loud alarms?   

4.  
Oh you whom Peace and Plenty swayed,  
Why in these wicked warlike Arms  
Are you arrayed?  
Where is the foe? or having none,  
What wonder works this wildness▪  
That you needs will prove your own?  
You that when as you were united m●ght  
Have vanquished Turk and Pagan,  
Or put Antichrist to flight;  
But from what unredeemed spirit did spring  
The plot of all your plagues,  
To quarrel with a peaceful King.   

5.  
What Itch of Innovation wrought  
Your factious humours, when the Clergy  
To the Block ye brought?  
Or why my Pastors do you keep  
In Prisons, whilst the Wolf abroad  
Doth only guard the Sheep?  
But why (in brief▪ do you such strange crimes commit,  
That want a proper name,  
Or ever man was damned for yet?  
Oh! woeful Island, flow in tears to the Main,  
Thy sheep are lost i'th' pasture,  
For their plenty proves their pain.   

6.  
Why with pretence of righteous Cause,  
Do you destroy the ancient  
●iberties and Laws?  
Or clad in Arms a furious fry,  
●o fight against the guide  
Of God like Monarchy?  
How can a wild  
Divided power do as much,  
●s One that is Anointed,  
Whom its terrible to touch?  
ere such a strange misguided Crew  
Granted be  
Resolve to know the sad event  
Of this short Prophecy.   

7.  
This great and glorious  
Liberal Land  
Seedless shall lie,  
Alas! the Blow will want a hand;  
And when the Field  
No fruit affords,  
Sickles shall be converted  
Into life depriving swords;  
Strangers from far  
This fertile soil shall devour  
Your Wives and modest Matrons,  
Lust and Rapine shall deflower;  
Famine and Plague  
Shall both at once walk the Round,  
Then Swords shall be Physicians,  
And by kill cure the wound.   

8.  
Churches and Towns,  
With parallels spires,  
Shall vanish in the furious flames  
Of unconfined fires,  
Such shrieks from earth  
To heaven shall fly,  
That death will be less torment,  
Then to hear each other die.  
Who ever famine 'scapes,  
the sword shall destroy,  
A story sad and truer  
Than the dreadful tale of Troy.  
Frighted I waked  
And on my knee did implore,  
Some mercy for my former crimes,  
And vowed to fight no more.    

The Farewell.  

1.  
FAir Fidelia leave me now,  
I may no more  
Thy Deity adore,  
Nor offer to thy shrine,  
I serve one more divine,  
And greater far than you;  
Hark, the trumpets call away,  
I must go,  
Lest the foe  
Lose the King and win the day.  
Let's march bravely on,  
Charge them in the Van,  
Our Cause Gods is,  
Though the odds is  
Ten times ten to one.   

2.  
Tempt no more, I may not yield,  
Although thy eyes  
A Kingdom might surprise;  
Leave off thy wanton tales,  
The highborn Prince of Wales  
Is mounted in the Field,  
Where the loyal Gentry flock,  
Though forlorn,  
Nobly born,  
Of a near decaying stock,  
Cornish boys be bold,  
Never lose your hold,  
He that loiters,  
Is by Traitors  
Basely bought and sold.   

3.  
One kiss more, and then farewell,  
Nay now give o'er,  
I prithee fool no more;  
Why cloud'st thou so 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 thy  
Favour once again.    

The Resolution. 1642.  

1.  
ASk me no more why there appears  
Daily such troops of Dragoneers,  
Since it is requisite you know  
They rob cum Privilegio.   

2.  
Ask me not why the Gaol confines  
Our Hierarchy of best Divines,  
Since 'twas allowed by full consent,  
The Privilege of Parliament.   

3.  
Ask me no more why from Blackwall  
Such tumults come unto Whitehall,  
Since some in Parliament agree,  
●Tis for the Subjects Liberty.   

4.  
Ask me not why to London comes  
So many Muskets, Pikes, and Drums,  
So that we fear they'll never cease,  
'Tis to procure the Kingdom's Peace.   

5.  
Ask me no more why little Finch  
From Parliament began to flinch,  
Since such as dare to Hawk and Kings,  
May easily clip a Finches wings.   

6.  
Ask me no more why Strafford's dead,  
Or why they aimed so at his head;  
Faith all the reason I can give,  
'Tis thought he was too wise to live.   

7.  
Ask me no more where's all the Plate  
Brought in at such an easy rate,  
It to the owners back they'll bring,  
In case it fall not to the King.   

8.  
Ask me no● why the House delights  
Not in our two wise Kentish Knights,  
Their Counsels never were thought good,  
Because they were not understood.   

9  
Ask me no more why Livesey goes  
To cease all rich men as his foes,  
Whilst Country Farmer's sigh and sob,  
Yeomen may beg when Knights do rob▪   

10.  
Ask me no more by what strange slight  
London's Lord Major was made a Knight,  
Since there's a strength sprung out of war,  
That can at once both make and mar.   

11.  
Ask me no more why in this age  
I sing so free without a cage,  
My answer is, I need not fear,  
All England doth the burden bear.   

12.  
Ask me no more (for I grow dull)  
Why Hotham keeps the Town of Hull,  
I'll answer ye one word for all,  
All things are thus when Kings do fault.    

The Kingly Complaint.  
The King Imprisoned at Holmby.  

The Tune, 1. In faith I cannot keep my sheep.  
I Am a poor and patient King,  
Though some are pleased to call me Pope,  
But yet I have a holy hope,  
God will relieve my suffering,  
By letting Peace and Plenty spring,  
That every man may have his own,  
Then I shall sit again upon my Throne.   

2.  
The Royal Consort of my age,  
That hath so oft my Cradles crowned,  
With false aspersions, they do wound  
According to their holy rage  
My simple Subjects they engage,  
And arm them with a proud pretence,  
To bring me home in beating me from thence.   

3.  
A Reformation next is sought,  
Episcopacy must go down,  
A Tinker's art must mend the Crown,  
By Weavers we may well be taught,  
But now at last they have us brought  
O'er many rigid Rocks and Shelves,  
They are contending what to be themselves.   

4.  
My Countrymen I most commend,  
For they have made the most of me,  
Alas! it was their poverty;  
They did it to no other end,  
But they have too much valued Me,  
And over-prized my Innoncence,  
They could demand no more than thirty pence.   

5.  
A rout of Rebels ring me round,  
Such is the King of England's Court,  
Who but to please their Pride, in sport  
Have brought my Peers unto the ground,  
They chase me like an Infidel.  
Or one that Christian Blood betray'th,  
Although I write, Defender of the Faith.    

Rebel's Market. 1646.  

1.  
NOw that the holy Wars are done  
Between the Father and the Son,  
And that we have by righteous fate  
Distressed a Monarch and his Mate,  
Forcing their Heir fly into France,  
To weep out his Inheritance.   

2.  
Let's set open all our Packs,  
Which contain ten thousand wracks,  
Cast away on the Red Sea,  
At Naseby and at Newberry;  
If then you'll come provided with gold:  
We dwell  
Close by Hell,  
Where we ●ell  
What you will,  
That is ill▪  
For Charity there is cold.   

3.  
If by thee a Murder came,  
We can give't another Name;  
But always provided thus,  
That thou hast been one of us,  
Gold is the God shall pardon the guilt;  
We have  
What shall save  
Thee from Grave,  
For the Law  
We can awe,  
Though a Prince's blood be spilt.   

4.  
If a Church thou hav'st bereft  
Of its Plate, 'tis holy theft;  
Or for zeal-sake if thou be'st  
Prompted on to spoil a Priest,  
Gold's a prevailing advocate:  
Then come,  
Bring a sum,  
Law is dumb,  
And submits  
To our wits,  
For Policy guides a State.    

The Leaguer.  

1.  
Join thy enamelled cheek to mine,  
I'll bring thee where is rasie Wine,  
And where a loving Leaguer's kept,  
Where many tankard tears are wept  
For the Cash  
That is gone, that is here,  
Joy and grief in a tear  
We will wash:  
There we study Revenges,  
Make Plots without hinges,  
More Black than the fifth of Novembers;  
In our Pipe and our Cup  
Our Estates are raked up,  
Till our eyes twinkle like to the embers.   

2.  
There with a sack-incensed face,  
In speckled state and flaming grace,  
With dabbled doublet doth appear  
The coral front of Cayalier,  
With a bowl  
Full of sack, such as can  
In the most dying man  
Raise a soul;  
And forbids any venture,  
The Leaguer to enter,  
Or near it commit such a trespass,  
If his cheeks do not shine  
With the blood of the Vine,  
And his Nostrils appear like a Respass.   

3.  
In Fletcher's Wit, and Johnson's style  
There will we sit and fret a while,  
Cursing the puddle of their brains,  
That pulled down grapes, and put up grains;  
They are foes,  
Who Bagpipes for Shawms  
Deal in small Bear and Psalms  
Through the Nose:  
May want of drink grieve'm,  
And no man relieve'm,  
Till scorching inform them what hell is,  
May Hounds-ditch and Towerditch,  
With Moor-ditch and Shoreditch,  
Be emptied to fill up their bellies.   

4.  
May all the ills that can be thought  
Either too heavy or too hot  
Light on his belly and his back,  
That envies us the joys of Sack;  
Let him die,  
Or let him live with so much strife,  
That he may beg to lose his life,  
Till he cry,  
Good-fellows forgive me,  
If you dare believe me,  
By the soul and the sword of a Layman;  
I'll draw out my Whinyard,  
And set up the Vineyard,  
In spite of the Devil and Dray-man.    

The Discovery.  
A Pastoral Song in two parts, being a Dialogue betwixt Alexis and Eliza, a Shepherd and Shepherdess.  

1.  Eliza. 
SHepherd I will tell thee news,  
That I fear will scarce delight thee;  Alexis. 
Let me hear the worst ensues,  
Spoke by thee it cannot fright me,  
Angels voices ne'er abuse.   

2.  Eliza. 
Walking late on yonder Plain,  
A Shepherd at our meeting grumbled;  Alexis. 
Tush, 'twas but a Rural Swain,  
For his pains he shall be humbled,  
If we ever meet again.   

3.  Eliza. 
'Tis reported thou and I  
Are entwined in Love's embraces:  Alexis. 
'Tis because that we do fly,  
From those Lads and sunburnt Lasses,  
Which were once our Company.   

4.  Alexis. 
But what ever they surmise,  
Let not your own tongue betray you;  
Their suspicions have no eyes,  
Do not let your fears bewray you  
To the traps which they devise.   

5.  Eliza. 
But if they to me should go,  
And their true suspicions mutter,  Alexis. 
Be you so wise to answer no,  
When they imaginations utter,  
Do you imagine 'tis not so.   

6.  Both. 
Let us keep our Love's entire,  
Like two Turtles of a feather;  
In the heat of our desire  
Let us live and die together,  
Flaming still in amorous fire.    

A Chirping Cup.  

1.  
DIng dung ding  
Let the Bells ring,  
Leave off your caring;  
He is fooled,  
That thinks his gold  
Is safe by sparing;  
Who doth know,  
As times go,  
Who shall have the sharing:  
Then to prevent all  
Let's merrily quaff our Wine  
To the King and his Consort divine;  
I prithee fill it as much as 'twill hold,  
We'll swagger home,  
Stagger home,  
When we are filled,  
And reel away misfortune.   

2.  
More joys bring,  
Let the Boys sing,  
And Fiddlers rant it,  
We'll drink Wine,  
Though the fine▪  
Presbyters vaunt it;  
They that thus  
Drink like us,  
Never can be daunted:  
Then with Canary  
Let every man's Coblet be crowned,  
In Sack let our sorrows be drowned,  
It is the right way our foes to confound;  
We'll bang the Rogues,  
Hang the Rogues,  
For Charles his glory,  
And that will end the story.    

The Occasion.  
How the War began.  

1.  
I'll tell you how the War began,  
The holy ones assembled,  
For so they called their Party than,  
Whose Consciences so trembled;  
They pulled the Bishops from their seats,  
And set up every Widgeon;  
The Scotch were sent for to do feats  
With Oat-cakes and Religion.   

2.  
They plucked Communion-tables down,  
And broke our painted glasses;  
They threw our Altars to the ground,  
And tumbled down the Crosses;  
They set up Cromwell and his Heir,  
The Lord and Lady Claypole,  
Because they hated Common-Prayer,  
The Organ and the Maypole.    

The Roundheads Revolt▪  
Tune, Soldier's Life▪  

1.  
THen farewell say to a Soldier's life,  
And welcome the Trowel and Spade;  
●or he that doth lie with another man's wife,  
Shall a Cuckold himself be made:   

2.  
●o he that purloins the Commonweal,  
And takes from other men  
〈◊〉 Plunder, which is in plain English to steal,  
Let him look to be plundered again.   

3.  
Farewell to the trade of Musket and Blade,  
Which nothing but mischiefs procures;  
For by the endeavours of Cobblers and Weavers,  
The Land hath been governed by Brewers.   

4.  
And now my Comrades, fall close to your trades,  
Leave Sceptres to men that are highborn,  
Though Treachery wins, when first it begins,  
It commonly endeth at Tyburn.   

5.  
Let every thing conform to the King,  
To England's Church I'll be a true Son;  
The way to be banged, and at last to be hanged,  
Is to mingle with Baxter and Hewson.   

6.  
The stars in their courses have routed our horses,  
And made our King-murtherers Martyrs;  
They are forced to yield the fort and the field,  
Whilst Ravens do beat up their quarters.   

7.  
Those zealots that d●d Baptism forbid,  
And likewise Godfathers denied,  
Who raised a War, in conclusion they are  
Themselves by twelve Godfathers tried.   

8.  
Then let the Bells ring, and pray for the king,  
Let every one practise Obedience;  
And let them all starve, who will not observe,  
And take the good Oath of Allegiance.    

A Catch Royal, 1641.  
LEt the Drawer run down,  
We'll sit and drink the Sun down,  
Here's a jolly Health to the King;  
Let him be confounded,  
And hanged up for a Roundhead,  
That will not pledge me a spring;  
Next to the Lady Mary  
This beer-bowl of Canary,  
I'll pledged a Carouse were it ten:  
When Charles his thoughts are eased,  
And his great heart appeased,  
We'll drink the Sun up again.   

The Change: After the Death of Oliver, November 3. 1659.  
The Air composed by Mr. Lock.  

1.  
TO what Idol now  
Must our hallowed hamstrings bow?  
The devil and we  
Can never agree,  
We know not to who or how;  
Religion and Laws  
Are crucified by his paws,  
Our liberty  
Is routed truly,  
And so is the good old Cause:  
The Rule of Right  
Hath bid us good night,  
'Tis Power is the only Prevailer;  
We dare not be known  
To ask for our own,  
For fear of Gibbet and Gaoler:  
For King we went  
And Parliament,  
By gunning to get them together;  
But now well a day!  
They are gunned quite away,  
And we must be governed by neither.   

2.  
Old Noll's Noddle now  
Were he living would tell us how  
The Camp and Crown,  
The Gun and the Gown  
Might quickly make one of two;  
King Dick the third,  
Or Harry with his broad sword,  
(Though men amiss)  
Had taught us ere this  
To quarrel about a word:  
Their Lance and Laws  
Had cudgelled our Cause,  
And made us submit to their Empire;  
But Richard the fourth,  
And Harry the ninth  
Are men of genteeler temper:  
The Church and State  
Are governed by Fate,  
'Tis Power hath the People's applauses;  
Our Courts are too tall,  
Our Lawyers must fall,  
The Sword's the best splitter of Causes.   

3.  
'Tis not Majesty  
Did make us to disagree,  
'Twas an humble fire  
Blown up by desire,  
To be but as high as he;  
The Prelate and King,  
Who caused our quarrelling,  
Were much to blame,  
We hated the Name,  
But fain we would have the thing:  
Our Drum, our Gun,  
Our Copper and Tun,  
Which newly of so much renown is,  
Can fitly declare  
What spirits we are,  
And what a bright Idol a Crown is:  
But now let's cast  
What's left us at last  
By Presbyter and Independent;  
The People's foresworn,  
The Land is forlorn,  
And this is the blessed end on't.    

The Soldiers last Farewell.  
Tune, Hollow my Fancy.  

1.  
FArewell Fife, Drum and Trumpet,  
Fortune is grown  
A very lazy Strumpet;  
She hath left us,  
And bereft us  
Of a Kingdom and a Throne;  
We that were once  
As fat as any mullet,  
By picking of the bones  
Of Plundered Pig and Pullet,  
May throw away our Guns,  
Our Powder, Match and Bullet;  
Alas poor Soldier, whither wilt thou go?   

2.  
I that did lead up the Vanguard,  
And with my Sword  
Did many a valiant man guard,  
Now am routed,  
And am flouted,  
Never a man will take my word;  
Lame Soldiers may  
Seek Hospitals and Spitals,  
And (well a day!)  
We must throw off our whittles,  
Instead of taking Pay,  
We shall go beg our Victuals.  
Alas, etc.   

3.  
We fought for our Religion  
Many a bloody day,  
And killed many a widgeon;  
Law we sought for,  
And we fought for,  
Till we fought it quite away:  
We cut down men  
As Coneys crop up Mallows;  
Our Masters then  
Did call us valiant fellows,  
'Twas time to leave them when  
They brought us to the Gallows.  
Alas, etc.   

4.  
In Red-coat rags attired  
I wander up and down,  
Since Fortune so conspired  
To array me,  
And betray me  
To the Censure of the town:  
My Buff doth make me boots,  
My Velvet Coat and Scarlet  
Must turn to Canvas Suits;  
For Fortune is a Harlot,  
These are the rotten fruits  
That attend a fight Varlet.  
Alas, etc.   

5.  
I have been in France and in Holland,  
Guided by my stars,  
I have been in Spain and Poland,  
Ireland, Scotland,  
And what not Land,  
Britain you know  
Hath felt my desperate slaughter,  
I killed ten at a blow,  
Even in a fit of laughter;  
Gone home and made no show,  
But kissed my Landlord's Daughter.  
Alas poor Soldier, etc.   

6.  
My Valour so highly prevailed,  
Meeting with my foes,  
Who strongly me assailed;  
Though an hundred  
Them I plundered,  
And received not many blows;  
This Falchion by my side  
Hath killed more men I'll swear it,  
Then Guy of Warwick did,  
For he could ne'er come near it;  
And now I shall be chid  
In time, if I do wear it.  
Alas poor Soldier, etc.   

7.  
For the King and the Kingdom  
I was the man  
That did strike every thing dumb;  
I made Meetings,  
Zealous greetings,  
When the War at first began:  
jack Lilb●rn first,  
Then holy Nye prevailed,  
And I was nursed  
By such as often railed,  
And pious Preachers cursed,  
Who were to Prison haled.  
Alas poor Soldier, etc.   

8.  
I did about this Nation  
Hold forth my gifts, and teach  
The ways of toleration,  
In that season  
I spoke treason,  
And any thing within my reach;  
Then every trade  
Was counterfeitly zealous,  
Preachers were made  
Of such as kept an Alehouse,  
The Pulpit fitted them  
Who were fitter for the Gallows.  
Alas poor Soldier, whither wilt thou go?   

9  
Surplice was Superstition  
Voted right or wrong,  
By our Inquisition  
Down went Crosses,  
Tombs and Glasses,  
The Liturgy we made a Song;  
The mitre and the Crown  
Gave way to private Metres,  
The Riches and Renown  
Unto the zealous Greeters,  
Paul's Church was tumbled down,  
To supply the wants of Peter.  
But now poor Soldier, whither wilt thou go?   

10.  
I will go to the Village  
Where I was bred and born,  
And deal no more in pillage;  
I'll go borrow  
Plough and Harrow,  
And sow the fruitful fields with Corn:  
I'll leave off all  
My Quartering and Billets;  
I'll never fall  
Into the traps of Zealots;  
But with my Sword I shall  
Defend both Prince and Prelates:  
Into my Country I resolve to go.    

The discontented Cavalier, Jan. 4. 1661. In two Airs, an Alman and S●ribran: Composed by Mr. Taylor.  

1.  
AWay now with the Drum  
For the time is come  
A Cavalier  
May appear,  
And shall be  
Well rewarded for Loyalty  
Royally,  
Because he hath been true to  
Sinking Sovereignty  
Drink Wine freely my hearts,  
For your high deserts,  
So lately drowned,  
Shall be crowned,  
Cloth of gold  
Will your wounded bodies enfold;  
Bags untold  
You every day shall in your  
Treasuries behold;  
All Places of Profit and Renown  
In the Town,  
Sword or Gown,  
Your sufferings shall crown.  
Therefore let us laugh,  
And quaff,  
And drink all off,  
A merry go down,  
The Kingdom's all our own:  
But hark what ill news abroad is told,  
Places sold  
Are for Gold,  
And I by my throat  
Have not up to London brought  
Above a groat,  
For which my throat  
Must sing another note.    

Tune altered to the S●ribrand.  

2.  
I am a Cavalier,  
It sadly doth appear,  
My shirt's a clout,  
My elbow's out,  
And never a Cloak to wear;  
But I am grown so poor,  
'Cause Fortune is a Whore,  
She deals her Boons  
To Pantaloons,  
That pimp and keep the door.  
In Feather and Muff  
Is merit enough  
For Gesemine-buttered Squires;  
The lofty affairs  
Of Plackets and Players  
Do keep us still in the briers;  
Yet others I see  
Of better degree,  
Or Truth is turned a Liar,  
Whose heads though they be  
Advanced very high,  
Deserve to be set up higher.   

3.  
The Devil's in them still,  
Let times be what they will,  
When Fortune's in  
The mind to spin,  
The Devil guides the wheel;  
Mere Politics are but  
Knaves in a several cut,  
'Tis good or naught,  
As they will have't,  
For Conscience door is shut:  
Religion and Laws  
Gilled every Cause,  
And make it show resplendent;  
They carry the Name  
Ith' beginning o'th' Game,  
But nothing to do with the end on't:  
We never did doubt  
When first we went out,  
And had no cause to fear,  
When merit began  
To march in the Van,  
That Ingratitude was in the Rear.   

4.  
'tis Fortune's purblind power  
That doth us all devour,  
She sets up slaves,  
She pardons Knaves  
And Rebels every hour;  
Whilst Loyal hearts are fed  
With begged and borrowed bread,  
They in Perfumes  
And plundered Plumes  
Are daily worshipped;  
But these are the men,  
I speak it again,  
Which lately I did tell you on,  
Whose fancies are fit  
With weapons and wit  
To raise up a new Rebellion;  
Yet true Loyalty  
In my heart shall be  
An everlasting lodger;  
In my Rags I will sing,  
God save our good King,  
And send him no need of a Soldier.    

The Secret.  
The Air composed by Mr. Taylor.  

1.  
WOuld I reveal my mind▪  
I could declare,  
And tell you why  
That I  
Come not nigh  
You where you are,  
But must conceal my mind  
'Twixt love and fear;  
Dumb Melancholy,  
Nothing more strong,  
You and my folly  
Have done me wrong,  
To give me love and grief and ne'er a tongue.   

2.  
How my heart loved thee  
My soul shall conceal,  
And by what sign  
That thine  
Then was mine,  
Faith I'll never tell;  
Though thou hast moved me  
Enough to reveal:  
Where shall we find her  
That faithful is,  
All women kind are  
Like thee in this.  
And do as thou hast done, kill where they kiss.   

3.  
Now I enjoined am  
To live apart,  
Lest by desire  
My fire  
Do conspire  
To consume my heart;  
I am confined to  
Smile when I smart,  
Unless I take her,  
Within my bounds,  
I must forsake her,  
Since Fortune frowns,  
As Kings are forced to lay down their Crowns.    

The Repulse writ by a Lady.  
The Air composed by Mr. William Laws, Servant to his late Majesty.  

1.  
YOur Love if virtuous will show forth  
Some fruits of Devotion,  
There's no Religion can warrant  
A dishonest motion;  
Would you entice me to give you respect,  
You would not seek then my honour to infect  
With poisoned potions:  
If I ever did affect you,  
'Twas in honour, but in ill ends  
I must needs neglect you.   

2.  
That fort is feeble that words can subdue  
With their battery,  
'Tis better stop our ears, than set them  
Open to flattery;  
Shall I count that true which cannot be just,  
Your sighs and sad silence I may not trust  
With eyes so watery:  
Take a Lover from a passion,  
Like an image out of date  
He stands quite out of fashion.    

The Reply, by the Author.  

1.  
MY Love's as virtuous as yours is  
Where you frame affection,  
For so inflamed Religion  
You keep in subjection,  
I cannot tempt ye to give me respect,  
'Tis not the crime but the man you reject  
With words so zealous:  
This same trifle called Honour  
Is a pretty witty cover  
To conceal a Lover●   

2.  
What need a battery be,  
When as the fort is resigning,  
You will ne'er stop your ear  
At your own servants repining;  
Where we affect we do never mistrust,  
If you would spell Love, and chance to write Lust  
No interlining:  
Take a Lady in the humour,  
When the Love-fit is upon her,  
She'll ne'er think of Honour,    

The Courtier.  

BE not afraid  
Thou rarest  
The fairest  
That ever was Maid,  
Deny me not a kiss,  
No man shall see  
The measure  
Of pleasure  
That I have from thee,  
What hurt is there in this?  
Then let's embrace, let all pleasures be free,  
The world shall ne'er have knowledge  
How delightful we be.   

2.  
I know that spies  
Both creeping and peeping  
In each corner lies  
To hinder all our joy;  
Cupid shall see,  
And find 'em to blind 'em  
That hindrance be  
To the getting of a boy.  
Then let's embrace, etc.   

3.  
Venus invites,  
Fair Creature, Dame Nature  
Made you for delights,  
But yet to none but I;  
Then I'll embrace,  
And ri●le a trifle  
Leave a jewel i'th' place,  
You'll keep until you die.  
Then let's embrace, etc.    

The Lady's Answer.  

1.  
NAy pish, nay fie  
You venture to enter  
A trespass so high,  
You'll wish it were undone;  
Should any spy,  
They'd wonder, look yonder,  
I see you'll not fly  
The chase you have begun:  
●ince then y'ave won me,  
And all things are tree;  
●saith you will undo me,  
If a tell-tale you be.   

2.  
Now y'have enjoyed  
That measure of pleasure,  
●●deed I'm destroyed,  
If I hear of it again;  
●omen do prove  
Neglected, rejected,  
●hen freedom of Love  
Is told to other men:  
〈◊〉 then, etc.   

3.  
〈◊〉 take my heart,  
I'll ever endeavour  
〈◊〉 we never part  
Till death assign the time;  
Were't not to you,  
Believe me 'twould grieve me  
To do what I do:  
O that Love should prove a crime,  
Yet 'tis a fault  
Of so sweet a degree,  
I surely am persuaded,  
Court not Country goes free.    

The Forfeiture: A Romance.  
Tune, Dear let me now this evening die.  

1.  
YOu that do look with Christian hue  
attend unto my Sonnet,  
I'll tell you of as vild a Jew  
as ever wore a Bonnet;  
No Jew of Scotland I intent,  
My story not so mean is,  
This Jew in wealth did much transcend  
Under the States of Venice.   

2.  
Where he by usury and trade  
did much exceed in Riches;  
His beard was red, his face was made  
Not much unlike a Witches;  
His habit was a Jewish Gown,  
That would defend all weather;  
His chin turned up, his nose hung down,  
And both ends met together.   

3.  
Yet this deformed Father had  
A daughter and a wise one,  
So sweet a Virgin never Lad  
Did ever set his eyes on;  
He that could call this Lady foul  
Must be a purblind Noddy,  
But yet she had a Christian soul  
Lodged in a Jewish body.   

4.  
Within the City there did live,  
If you the truth will search on't,  
One whose ill fate will made you grieve,  
A gallant Christian Merchant,  
Who did abound in wealth and wit,  
In youth and comely feature;  
Whose love unto a friend was knit,  
As strong as bonds of Nature.   

5.  
A Gentleman of good renown,  
But of a sinking fortune,  
Who having no estate of's own  
Doth thus his friend importune;  
Friend lend me but one thousand pound,  
It shall again be paid ye;  
For I have very lately found  
A fair and wealthy Lady.   

6.  
The Merchant than makes this reply,  
Friend, I am out of treasure;  
But I will make my credit fly,  
To do my friend a pleasure:  
There is a Jew in town (quoth he)  
Who though he deadly hate me,  
Yet 'cause my wealth is strong at sea,  
This favour will not bate me.   

7.  
When they were come unto the Jew,  
He did demand their pleasure;  
The Merchant answers, I of you  
Would borrow so much treasure:  
The Jew replies, you shall not have't,  
If such a sum would save ye,  
Unless in three month's you will paid,  
Or forfeit what I'd have you.   

8.  
If at the three month's end you do,  
As you shall seal and sign to'●,  
Not pay the money which is due,  
Where e'er I have a mind to't  
I'll cut a pound out of your flesh;  
The Merchant is contented,  
Because he knew in half that time,  
his shipping would prevent it.   

9  
Ill news by every ship comes in,  
His ships are drowned and fired;  
The Jew his forfeiture doth win,  
For three months are expired,  
He is arrested for the debt,  
The Court must now decide it;  
The flesh is due, and now the Jew  
Is ready to divide it.   

10.  
The Merchant's Friend that had the gold  
Now being richly married,  
Offered the sum down three times told  
To have his friend's life spared,  
'T would not be took, but straight steps in  
One in Doctor's apparel;  
Who though but young doth now begin  
Thus to decide the quarrel.   

11.  
Jew, we do grant, that by the Law  
A pound of flesh your due is,  
But if one drop of blood you draw,  
We'll show you what a Jew is;  
Take but a pound, as 'twas agreed,  
Be sure you cut no further,  
And cut no less, lest for the deed  
You be arraigned for murder.   

12.  
The Jew enraged doth tear the Bond,  
And dare● not do the slaughter,  
He quits the Court, and than 'twas found  
The Doctor proves his Daughter;  
Who for the love she long time bore,  
From a true heart derived  
To be his wife, and save his life,  
This subtle slight contrived.   

13.  
The Court consent, and they are wed,  
For hatching of this slaughter  
The Jews estate is forfeited,  
And given to his Daughter;  
She is baptised in Christendom,  
The Jew cries out he's undone:  
I wish such Jews may never come  
To England nor to London.    

Love in Languishment.  
Tune, Have I not loved thee much and long.  

1.  
YOu to whom melting hearts belong,  
That Lovers woes bewail,  
And would not have true love take wrong,  
Attend unto my tale.  
The like to this is seldom known,  
'Twill make your very souls to groan,  
As if the case were all your own,   

2.  
A great man late a Daughtet had,  
Which now may not be named,  
She had two Suitors, good and bad,  
Both by her eyes inflamed;  
But young Philaster was his Name,  
A Gentleman of noble fame,  
That her affections overcame.   

3.  
The tother was her father's choice,  
Antonio he was called,  
Who with her feature, youth and voice  
Was very much enthralled;  
And though her Father bid her sh●  
Should to Antonio's suit agree:  
She cries, Philaster is for me.   

4.  
One day Philaster having walked  
Close by a River side,  
He found a pretty boy that talked  
Unto himself, and cried;  
Could I but now a master view,  
To give my tender youth its due,  
I would appear a Servant true.   

8.  
Philaster entertained him strait,  
And sent him to his Love,  
That he with her might live and wait,  
And 'twixt each other move;  
His pretty face did so engage,  
She looked upon his tender age.  
More like a Brother then a Page.   

6.  
Betwixt them he so often went  
With letters to and fro,  
That it gave cause of discontent  
To young Antonio;  
Who cause he could not have his swinge,  
But all his love was off the hinge,  
He secretly doth vow revenge.   

7.  
Phylaster and the Lady now  
By Cupid's great command,  
Are by the Priest with holy vow  
united hand in hand;  
But when the bonds of love were sealed,  
And that their fears were quite expelled,  
Their marriage joys were all revealed,   

8.  
Her Father apprehends him straight  
For stealing of his Heir,  
He's hurried to the prison-gate,  
And she left in despair;  
Antonio makes false witness swear,  
That fornication did appear  
One day betwixt the boy and her.   

9  
For which they both by course of law  
Are to the prison sent,  
Her father which did thither draw  
Her love doth now lament;  
Phylaster hearing this, quoth he,  
Must I thus lose my life for she  
That's taken in Adultery?   

10.  
The Lady's tears not guilty prove,  
Each eye so overflows,  
To think her Honour and her Love  
She in one hour should lose;  
Justice against them doth proceed,  
Two must be punished, t'other bleed,  
Love lies a bleeding now indeed.   

11.  
The Boy cries out you do amiss,  
For you do all mistake,  
I am a Virgin, and did this  
For young Antonio's sake;  
This Suit which now you see me wear,  
And all the course which I did steer,  
Was 'cause he should not marry her.   

12.  
Antonio knows her, and doth vow  
He'll marry none but she;  
Phylaster takes his Love, and now  
The Father doth agree:  
Their lives were near the push of pike,  
But now embrace, and soft hands strike,  
May all true Lovers do the like.    

The Revolution: A Love-story.  
Tune, No man loves fiery passions.  

1.  
YOu that are crossed in love, and fain would see  
Some crosses like your own, give ear to me;  
I have a story which doth plainly tell,  
That Lovers hearts are tossed 'twixt heaven and hell:  
Therefore let him or her this place forbear,  
That cannot vent a sigh, or shed a tear.   

2.  
A virtuous Lady, innocent and fair,  
Who to a noble Knight was only Heir,  
Was to a Gentleman with quick dispatch  
Contracted, but his brother scorned the match,  
And therefore privately did plot to be  
An enemy unto their amity.   

3.  
The costly garments, and the wedding cheer  
Provided is, for now the day draws near;  
The Bridemen and the Bridemaids are made fit  
To wait upon their virtue and their wit:  
And till the day, long looked for, doth appear,  
Each hour's a day, and every day a year.   

4.  
The brother that was hatefully inclined,  
Did yet appear to bear a better mind,  
And seemed as much to like the Match as they  
That every hour did wish the wedding day;  
But mark what follows, and you'll quickly be  
Assured 'twas nothing but hypocrisy.   

5.  
He hires a knave, whose love was closely tied  
Unto the Chambermaid that served the Bride,  
And bids him in the evening go unto her,  
And in her Mistress chamber seem to woo her;  
Desire her for your humour to put on  
One of her Mistress Gowns that well was known.   

6.  
The fellow goes to her whom he did know  
Could not to any thing he craved cry no,  
The Brother to the Bridegroom quickly hies,  
To fill his brother's soul with jealousies;  
Quoth he, if you this strumpet Lady marry,  
You and our Family will all miscarry.   

7.  
If you with two or three with me will go,  
At night I'll show you what you ne'er did know;  
That Lady which hath locked your love in charms,  
I'll show you tumbling in another's arms:  
For though till now I ne'er did tell you on them,  
These three nights I have cast my eyes upon them.   

8.  
The Bridegroom though he loved her well before,  
Hating to be the Husband of a Whore,  
Doth with his brother go, (who was his guide)  
To see (as he supposed) his wanton bride;  
Where in her Mistress nightgown she was toying,  
And with her plotting Sweetheart closely playing.   

9  
The marriage day is come, and now they go,  
As some surmise, to make but one of two;  
But when the Bridegroom took her by the hand,  
He gave the people all to understand,  
That she was known a most notorious whore,  
And vowed from that time ne'er to see her more.   

10.  
The Bride fell in a swound, the father cried,  
Alack for me! I would my child had died  
Before this time had come, for much I fear  
My sorrow will become my murderer;  
He caused her in this fit to be conveyed  
Home to his house, and in her chamber laid.   

11.  
The Chambermaid much fearing some mistake,  
Desired her Sweetheart that for her dear sake  
He would disclose, or him she'd never own,  
Why he would have her wear her Mistress Gown?  
And after many subtle tricks of youth,  
He did confess, and tell the naked truth.   

12.  
She tells her master how they had been used,  
And by the Bridegroom's Brother thus abused;  
Which when the Bride & Bridegroom knew, they then  
With joint consent go to the Church ageh:  
Where they did knit a knot until they die,  
Which Men and Angels never shall untie.    

The jealous Duke, and the injured Duchess: A story▪  
Tune, The Dream.  

1.  
OF all the wedlock plagues that be,  
None are so fierce  
As Jealousy,  
As you shall see drawn to the life  
Between a Duke.  
And's virtuous Wife;  
He was a Duke of Parma in Italy,  
His Lady great with child  
Was wronged by his jealousy:  
He sends her unto prison guiltless of crime▪  
And in that sickly season,  
When as she was near her time.   

2.  
Where afterward it came to pass,  
She of a Child  
Delivered was,  
A lovely Daughter, which they took  
And brought it to  
The Jealous Duke;  
Who in a fury did protest as before,  
The Infant was a Bastard,  
And its Mother was a Whore:  
The noble Lady that did bring it did cry,  
The virtuous Duchess suffered  
Only for his Jealousy.   

3.  
The Lady being much reviled,  
She goes away  
And leaves the Child;  
He strait by oath enjoins a Lord  
Who made a conscience  
Of his word:  
Then quoth the Duke, you must perform my command  
Take shipping straight,  
And bear this Brat into a foreign Land;  
Leave it in any wilderness you can find,  
And let it there be nourished  
Only by the rain and wind.   

4.  
The Nobleman is grieved to do't,  
But that his Oath  
enjoins him to't;  
The Duchess hearing that her Child  
Was sent away  
To Country's wild,  
Falls in a swound, (her spirits all being fled)  
The word was brought unto the Duke,  
His wife was newly dead;  
And that her last words were, (her eyes waxing dim)  
Commend me to the Duke,  
I ne'er knew any man but him.   

5.  
Her dying words the Duke believes▪  
And now alack  
Too late he grieves;  
For now the Lord (by his command)  
Is in the Duke  
Of Padua's Land;  
Where he the pretty Infant lays down (as he Had sworn to the Duke)  
And now returns again to sea:  
But (by good fate) a shepherd that lost a sheep  
Was searching up and down that way,  
And heard the Infant weep.   

6.  
The Mantle which the Child did hold  
Was rich embroidered  
Cloth of Gold;  
But when it was undressed; he found  
The value of  
Two thousand pound,  
Besides a paper where was writ down the Name▪  
This treasure made the Shepherd strait  
To grow in wealth and fame;  
He bred the Child as decently as he could,  
But in its disposition one  
Might find the parent's blood.   

7.  
At sixteen years of age she was  
The prettiest Nymph  
That trod on grass;  
Once on a day when she did keep  
(As she supposed) Her father's sheep,  
A Gentleman which her fair face looked upon▪  
Was strucken strait in love,  
And 'twas the Duke of Padua's Son;  
Who from that hour would every day come to se●  
His Mistress whom he loved like life,  
Though of a low degree.   

8.  
Much love there was betwixt them both,  
Till they contracted were by oath;  
Which when his father came to know,  
Then did begin  
The Lover's woe;  
For with extreme outrageous words he begun  
To bid him leave her,  
Or he'd never own him as a son;  
The Prince did vow his love he ne'er would withdraw  
Although he lost his father,  
And the Crown of Milan.   

9  
But having got much treasure, he  
Doth with this Virgin  
Put to sea;  
After a while there was report,  
They're in the Duke  
Of Parma's Court;  
The Duke of Milan then for fear they should wed,  
Will follow, if he find it true,  
His son shall lose his head:  
But the old Shepherd fearing wrong should befall,  
His pretty witty Daughter  
Doth resolve to find them all.   

10.  
The Bride and Bridegroom now in state  
Are going to  
The Temple-gate,  
The Duke of Milan with his trains  
Doth stop them,  
And forbids the Banes;  
And to the Duke of Parma plainly says, that  
His son did fly from him  
To marry with a Shepherd's brat;  
The Bride and Bridegroom by both Dukes in a breath  
Commanded are to separate,  
Or they shall meet in death.   

11.  
Both are content, and are led on  
Unto their  
Execution.  
They were to suffer both alike,  
The Headsmans' Axe  
Was up to strike:  
Hold quoth the Shepherd, I bring strange news to town;  
The Dukes were both amazed,  
And the Axe was strait laid down,  
This Lady sixteen years ago did I find,  
This paper and these Jewels,  
For the Child is none of mine.   

12.  
The Lord that bore the Child away  
Seeing the Name,  
Did boldly say,  
Great Duke of Parma, this is she  
Which you did send away by me;  
'Tis your own Daughter: then the Duke full of tears  
Embrace them both, and now  
Another Marriage day appears;  
Bonfires and Bells, the Conduits all run with wine:  
By this we see there's nothing can  
Prevent the Powers divine.    

The Double Marriage: A sad Story.  
Tune, Amidst the Myrtles as I walked.  

1.  
AMongst all woes that ever we  
Have felt, or else in story read,  
There is no greater misery,  
Then an enforced Marriagebed.   

2.  
As I will sadly make appear,  
When I my story shall unfold,  
You will confess that you do hear  
The saddest tale that e'er was told.   

3.  
A Gentleman of good renown  
Did die, and left his Heir in ward  
Unto the mercy or the frown  
Of a most proud imperious Lord.   

4.  
This Gallant was a youth of worth,  
His feature might affection move,  
Who travelling into the North,  
It was his fate to fall in Love,   

5.  
With a fair Lady of good fame,  
And being on both sides agreed,  
They in one Contract mix their flame,  
And seal it as their act and deed.   

6.  
No sooner did their souls accord  
In tears and kisses, oaths and vows,  
But he is sent for by his Lord  
To London; now comes all the woes.   

7.  
The Lord his Guardian doth prefer  
Him to a Lady of his kin,  
The Gallant cries, should I take her,  
I might commit a grievous sin.   

8.  
I am contracted, Sir, quoth he,  
To one I love no less than life;  
And you know, Sir, that Contracts be  
The greatest bonds 'twixt man and wife.   

9  
The Guardian by his power compels  
The woeful Ward to break his oath,  
And (which all misery excels)  
Unto another plight his troth.   

10  
He sends into the North with speed,  
To her whom he by right should wed;  
Only one line which she doth read,  
Forgive me, I am married.   

11.  
This broke her heart, but she indites  
An answer which much sorrow bred;  
For in one fatal line she writes,  
My Dear, Forgive me I am dead.   

12.  
Then with her knife she made it good.  
And by a desperate stroke did prove,  
Sealing it with her flowing blood,  
That Life is nothing without Love.   

13.  
The Gentleman forsakes his Wife,  
Such misery this Marriage bred;  
Quoth he, I'll never lead a life  
With thee in an adulterous Bed.   

14.  
I'th' wicked ways he now begins  
To riot all his vast estate,  
His wife was brought to bed of twins,  
The Mother's grief, the Father's hate.   

15.  
His wife and children full of woe  
And want unto their father come,  
Who now in England doth not know  
A place that he can call his home.   

16.  
His breach of Contract in his thought  
Doth now (at last) so fiercely fall,  
That by the devil he is wrought.  
To kill his wi●e and children small:   

17.  
He draws his sword, but by good fate  
A messenger comes running in,  
And bids him read a letter strait;  
Which done, my Gallant doth begin   

18.  
To be more temperate in his mind,  
For thus it seems the letter said,  
Your Guardian that was so unkind,  
Much grieved for you, is lately dead;   

19  
He hath bequeathed his whole Estate  
To be only at your dispose,  
And doth confess, though now too late,  
He was the cause of all your woes.   

20.  
He bids you likewise, since you are  
The Husband of another Wife,  
That you will take her to your care,  
And lead a loving peaceful life.   

21.  
This counsel he resolves to take,  
And loving to his wife appears;  
Though often for his Contracts sake  
He venteth penitential tears.   

22.  
Thus have you seen the misery  
Which inforc'd Marriage doth procure;  
Therefore let all forewarned be  
Never to break that are made sure.    

The Broken Contract.  
Tune, Cloris farewell, I needs must go.  

1.  
YOu that are safe and sound in soul,  
Whose minds are well, and hearts are whole,  
Attend my tale, for I impart  
The sorrows of a broken heart;  
So sad it is, that much I fear,  
'Twill break your very hearts to hear.   

2.  
A Lady (as my story saith)  
Was bound within the bonds of faith  
As fast as Contract could unite  
Unto a youthful noble Knight;  
But by her powerful Brother she  
Was forced to break this unity.   

3.  
She now is married to a rich  
And very jealous Old man, which  
Doth in her love take much delight,  
But she must ne'er stir out of sight;  
By all that look upon her he  
Doth fear he shall cornuted be.   

4.  
The old man breaks his heart with fears,  
The Knight doth waste his soul in cares;  
The Lady spends her time in tears,  
Her Brother courts a friend of hers:  
And being now a Lover strong,  
Reputes he did his Sister wrong.   

5.  
Her Brother and his Love are now  
United by a lasting vow,  
The gallant Bridegroom and his Bride  
Do for the Nuptial day provide;  
The Knight's revenge was grown so great,  
He could not make it to retreat.   

6.  
But she that should have been his wife  
Doth grow so weary of her life,  
That she resolves to eat no food  
Or sustenance to do her good,  
Till famine seize on all her parts;  
Thus broken vows make broken hearts.   

7.  
The Knight a challenge sends to him,  
Who now in seas of joys do swim,  
And bids him meet without delay  
The morning of his wedding day;  
Or else he vowed for all his harms  
To kill him in his Lady's arms.   

8.  
The Bridegroom meets him, and they fight,  
But the undaunted daring Knight  
Filled with revenge doth charge him so,  
That he in his own blood doth flow;  
Thus in a moment here you have  
A Bridebed turned into a Grave.   

9  
When this report abroad was blazed,  
The woeful Bride being much amazed,  
Tears off the wedding garment, which  
Her body lately did enrich;  
Her heart o'ercharged with grief, she cried,  
We'll meet above, and so she died.   

10.  
The Bridegroom's sister which before  
Had made a vow to feed no more,  
Being in seas of sorrows drowned,  
She throws herself upon the ground;  
Saying it cannot be withstood,  
But broken vows must end in blood.   

11.  
These words she had no sooner spoke,  
But instantly her heart was broke;  
The Knight with hands in blood imbrued  
Is now by Officers pursued,  
And in his Chamber they at last  
Do find him with his door locked fast.   

12.  
They break it open, and there find,  
The saddest sight is left behind;  
For when they in the Chamber come,  
They find him naked in the room,  
Where every vein from head to foot  
He with his knife had newly cut.   

13.  
Much like a fountain there he stood,  
For all his limbs were spouts of blood;  
But when his veins did cease to swell,  
He died, and down the fountain fell;  
Thus doth one broken vow devour  
The lives and precious blood of four.   

14.  
May this a warning prove to all,  
Whose Vows are Matrimonial;  
Look e'er you leap, for having vowed,  
The breach can never be allowed;  
For you may well discern by this,  
A Contract broke, like Murder is.    

A merry Marriage: A Stratagem.  
Tune, Do but view this glass of Claret.  

1.  
THis new Song that I would sell you  
Some suppose is very true,  
Where 'twas done I may not tell you,  
Time will bring it to your view;  
What I mean now to reveal you,  
Is both witty, quaint, and new.   

2.  
In a place as yet unplundered  
An old Usurer did dwell,  
Who took fifty in the hundred,  
Some can by experience tell;  
But his son in Taverns thundered,  
And did strewed abroad as well:   

3.  
Young and handsome, bred a Scholar,  
Never free from Tavern scores,  
But his Father full of dolour  
Turns my Gallant out of doors;  
Swearing in a cruel choler,  
That he spent his means with whores.   

4.  
He besides him had a Daughter,  
Young and lovely, fair and bright,  
She was worth the looking after,  
For her Portion was not light;  
But the trick that's worth your laughter.  
Will appear anon at night.   

5.  
Not far off a Widow dwelled that  
Was both pretty, young and wise,  
This old fellow quickly smelled that  
She would prove a golden prize;  
In his clean Ruff, and his Felt Hat  
He to her a wooing hies.   

6.  
Such good entertainment she made,  
That he thought she was his own;  
But the wanton son that he had  
Came as soon as he was gone,  
Told her plainly he should be mad,  
If she would not hear his moan.   

7.  
When she saw his youth and feature  
To be confident and kind,  
She did covet much the creature,  
But his wildeness changed her mind;  
And contrary to her nature  
Said he should no favour find.   

8.  
This did quite confound the Lover,  
But her kinsman was his friend:  
Who unto him did discover  
What a plot he did intend;  
I know what (quoth he) shall move her,  
And shall gain her in the end.   

9  
Soon at night do you come hither▪  
If you will the Widow wed,  
You shall all night lie beneath her,  
Close conveyed under her bed;  
When you are so near together,  
Ten to one you will be sped:   

10.  
But before you come I'll swear you,  
Though you lie upon the lurch,  
That you honestly will bear you,  
Till you both have been at Church,  
Else revenge I vow shall tear you  
Ten times more than brine and birch.   

11.  
To this plot they both consented,  
But another plot's in hand,  
A poor Knight is discontented  
For the mortgage of his Land;  
For it seems the devil sent it  
Unto this old Miser's hand.   

12.  
This Knight with money doth desire it,  
But because the day is past,  
This Curmudgeon doth require it  
As a forfeiture at last▪  
But his Daughter doth admire  
The patience of the Knight so crossed.   

13.  
She's in love and dares not show it,  
By her Brother she was betrayed;  
For by him the Knight doth know it,  
Who with love salutes the Maid;  
She doth well consent unto it,  
The Match at midnight must be made.   

14.  
Therefore he doth thus advise her,  
To the widows you shall go,  
For your Brother will surprise her,  
ere the morning comes I know;  
Bring my Mortgage, lest your wiser  
Father plot our overthrow.   

15.  
All is done, and now the morning  
Through the widow's window peeps,  
He provided against all scorning,  
Out into her Chamber creeps;  
She cries out, whilst he is turning  
To her to secure her lips:   

16.  
There he vows if she will marry,  
He'll become a civil man,  
But if not, she shall miscarry  
In her reputation;  
For he swears he there will tarry,  
Till her credit's quite undone.   

17.  
He calls up his Friend and Sister  
To be witness to the Match,  
Who but for this trick had missed her,  
For he caught her on the Catch;  
There before them all he kissed her,  
To the Church they all dispatch.   

18.  
When the Usurer did hear that  
He was cheated of his wife,  
And his Daughter, he did swear that  
He would straight reform his life;  
Then he bids them joy, and prays that  
Their midnight Match may know no strife.    

The happy Adventure, or the witty Lady: A story.  
Tune, Wert thou much fairer than thou art.  

1.  
ALL you that Wit and Beauty know,  
Give ear to me, and I will show  
A Witty Fair-one that can fit  
Your minds with Beauty and with Wit;  
She was a Virgin not enthralled,  
And commonly Maria called.   

2.  
Fair Isabel was one that she  
Had loved even from her infancy,  
Which was betrothed to a quick  
And nimble youth, called Frederick;  
Who for a chance which often doth  
Befall, refused to keep his oath.   

3.  
Her Brother was a Merchant, and  
Had all her portion in his hand,  
A man of judgement, wealth and wit,  
And went himself to sea with it;  
But certain news came in a day,  
He and his ship was east away.   

4.  
Her portion by mischance thus gone;  
She must no more be looked upon,  
For Frederick will make't appear,  
He loved her money more than her;  
Thus in one day she must forego  
A Brother and a Husband too.   

5.  
He doth begin to love each grace  
That dwells in fair Maria's face,  
Her wit and beauty (both combined)  
So strangely captivate his mind;  
That he solicits night and day  
The Lady in a lustful way.   

6.  
His last request she answers thus,  
Sir, what will people speak of us,  
If't should be known, as 'twill (quoth she)  
If I at last with child should be?  
He answers strait (to quit all fear)  
ere that be known he'll marry her.   

7.  
She bids him come at night, and she  
Will entertain him secretly;  
Quoth she, if just at ten you'll wait,  
You shall come through the garden gate:  
One pair of stairs you cannot miss,  
Next to the Bower my Chamber is.   

8.  
There we in darkness both must lie,  
You'll find no other light but I;  
And in the morning when the day  
Appears you must make haste away,  
Lest Vis●●ants do come to me,  
And make a sad discovery.   

9  
He takes his leave of her, but then  
Each hour is twenty until ten;  
No other thoughts come in his head,  
But fair Maria and the bed,  
And she as busy is in thought,  
How this to pass may well be brought.   

10.  
Her purest linen she does spread,  
Perfumed and pleasant for the bed;  
The night grows dark, that none can see▪  
The hour is come, and so is he:  
Now what they do I dare not tell,  
I fear you all can guests too well.   

11.  
In silence all the night was past,  
And both do fall asleep at last;  
The morning's come, the sun doth rise,  
And now he views his Mistress eyes;  
But when he had surveyed her well,  
'Twas his contracted Isabel:   

12.  
This was the witty fair ones plot,  
He swore and cursed, and up he got;  
Maria doth the Music guide,  
To bid good morrow to the Bride;  
And every part o'th' Town doth tell,  
That he hath married Izabel.   

13.  
He finds himself thus catcht, and he  
In silence suffers it to be;  
Maria with good news doth come,  
Her Brother is come richly home;  
And that the rumour of the wrack  
(As it appears) was a mistake.   

14.  
This proves great joy to Izabel,  
Maria likes the news as well;  
For 'twas well known that he and she  
Were Lovers ere he went to sea:  
His coming home hath raised them all,  
Who did in desperation fall.   

15.  
They meet, kiss, and salute their loves,  
One's soul in tother's body moves;  
The joys they have no tongue can tell,  
But only they that love as well;  
The Marriage-day appointed is,  
The first step to a Lover's bliss.   

16.  
You witty fair ones that are here,  
Is not this project chaste and clear?  
And was it not a noble end,  
To pleasure a contracted friend?  
Of all that Poets e'er expressed,  
The witty fair one is the best.    

The Royal Rant:  
A Medley in Oliver's time.  

Bar-boy cease to roar,  
We shall quaff no more,  
When we think upon the days  
Of Love and Music Loyalty and Plays;  
When Law and Reason  
Were not high Treason,  
'Twas a good season than;  
ere Parliaments  
Brought these events,  
'Twas fame enough to be an Englishman:  
But Legislators,  
And Regis-haters  
Have brought such slaughters since;  
The Gentry  
In prisons lie,  
And find it crime enough to be a Prince.   

2.  
In a dungeon deep we lie,  
Cramped with cold Captivity,  
Where the bedless bottom owns  
Nothing to relieve our bones;  
Yet such is the sacred scope of the soul,  
That we never think  
Of the stink,  
When cold water we drink,  
For Conscience crowns the bowl.   

3.  
Thus the ship of Reformation,  
That was lately launched in blood,  
Floats in floods of lamentation;  
Let us now behold the wood,  
Where the Royal Oak once growing,  
Made it a perpetual spring▪  
There sedition now is sowing,  
Hark what Philomela doth sing.   

4.  
The Nightingale so quick,  
Is now grown sick, sick, sick,  
To see the Royal vocal Wood,  
So bonny and good, good good,  
Where each bonny Bird did meet  
With concord sweet, sweet sweet,  
Is defiled by Rebels, where they hug  
Their Leaguer Lady,  
jug jug, jug jug jug jug jug jug jug.   

5.  
Thus you see how tides are turning,  
No condition's lasting,  
In a moment mirth and mourning,  
Blowing buds are blasting;  
Fortune is  
A coy Mistress,  
No man ever kept her;  
She'll (by power)  
In an hour  
Make a Sword a Sceptre.   

6.  
Yet let us wait upon her wheel,  
And not with fury fret her;  
For she that turned from well to ill,  
May turn from bad to better.   

7  
Therefore Bar-boy roar again,  
We will drink like Englishmen,  
For every Pottle bring up ten;  
I hope this is no Treason:  
He that is  
In a Land like this,  
Must lay aside his Reaso●.   

8.  
Then let us drink a Health to his fame,  
Who for our tongues we dare not name,  
Who for a Throne we dare not own;  
But we'll devise a curse likewise  
Upon the State-Hector, the People's Pro-jector,  
May all they have done come home to their own  
Drawer! Bring up your Wine, and fill up your Pots,  
For we are the Men that have no Plots.    

The Frolic.  
A Medley of three Airs.  

1.  
A Qualm comes over me, Drawer bring  
Up a Quart of Canary;  
We will drink till our eyes  
Out-sparkle the Skies,  
And make the full Moon miscarry;  
For since Canary will be a King,  
This Room shall be a Star-Chamber,  
'Cause the Glass in the close  
At every man's Nose,  
Reflects on his Brow like Amber:  
But where are the Moon and Stars,  
Alas! they have lost their light;  
We'll drink them up  
Tother Cup,  
Canary can fix 'em right:  
Canary can conquer Mars,  
And tumble his Target down;  
What he can do  
Who doth know,  
Till he gets in the Crown.   

2.  
Why should we heartless ●e,  
But look up unto  
Wine, and the wonders Canary can do;  
Let us dance after chance  
Like fairy Elves,  
Drink down misfortune, and drink up ourselves;  
Drink till the hogsheads reel  
One against tother,  
Then like right Statesmen we'll  
Drink one another:  
All the chink  
That we drink  
Springs in our Meadow●,  
We ne'er quaff  
The tears of  
Orphans and Widows.   

3.  
'Tis but folly  
To be formal holy,  
Let's be jolly,  
Hang up melancholy;  
They that reprove us  
Did never love us,  
But would remove us,  
That they might be above us:  
Then let us tarry,  
Lest we miscarry,  
If we but vary  
Our Principle Canary;  
Although they scant us,  
This shall not daunt us,  
Though they out-vaunt us,  
They never shall out-rant us.    

The jubilee, on the Coronation day.  
Tune, The King enjoys his own again.  

1.  
LEt every man with tongue and pen  
Rejoice that Charles is come again,  
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.   

2.  
All that do tread 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.   
FINIS.