SONG I.
GOod your Worship, cast your Eye
Upon a Souldiers misery,
And let not these lean Cheeks (I pray)
Your Bounty from a Souldier fray.
But like a noble Friend,
Some Silver lend,
And
Jove shall pay you in the End.
And I will pray to Fate
To make you Fortunate
In Heavenly and in Earthly State.
II.
I never was wont to beg (Good Sir)
Which makes me Blush to keep this Stir,
I never went from place to place,
For to make known my woful Case:
A Roguing goes,
And Maundring shew their Drunken-Blows,
Which they have only got,
By banging of the Pot,
And Quarelling to pay the Shot.
III.
But I who Limp thus Wars have seen,
And in brave Battles have I been;
Still where the Cannons Us'd to Roar,
My proper Sphear was Evermore.
Once at a Barricado,
In Bravado
Tossing of the Hand-Granado,
Death was very near,
For it took away mine Ear,
And yet (thank God) Ch'am here, Ch'am here.
IV.
I have at least a dozen times
Been blown up by these Roguish mines,
Thrice through the head I have been shot
My Brains have boyl'd up like a Pot,
And being left for Dead
When all were Fled,
They sent me back again to Bed.
Those dangers I have past
From First to Last
Would make your Worship sore agast.
V.
At push of Pike I lost this Eye,
At
Bergen Seig I broke my Thigh:
At
Brussels, (though a very Lad)
I laid about as I were Mad.
Oh little would you Ween
That I have been
Such an old Souldier of the Queen;
But if Sr.
Francis Vere
Were living now and here
He'd tell you how I Slash'd them there.
VI.
The
Zealanders my Fury know,
Lost with them have Chang'd a blow,
From whence we led a Warlike dance
Out of
Spain and into
France,
Where we have spent a Flood
Of very noble Blood,
And did but very little Good;
And now I am come Home
With Rags about my Bum,
To beg of you for this small Sum.
VII.
And now my case you Understand,
Good Sir lend me your helping Hand:
A little thing would pleasure me,
To keep in Ure your Charity,
Or Barly leese
Or any such like Scraps as these
That I do ask of you,
But Shillings one or two,
Therefore your purse-strings straight undo.
SONG II.
I.
DAme Fortune if thou want'st a guide,
I'le tell thee how thou maist divide,
Distribute unto each his due,
Justice is Blind and so are you.
II.
To the Usurer this doom impart,
May's Scrivener break, and then his Heart▪
His Debtors unto beggary fall,
Or what's as bad turn Courtiers all.
III.
Unto Tradesmen that sell too dear,
A long vacation all the Year!
Revenge us thus on their deceits,
And send them Wives, light, as their Weights.
IV.
And lest the Players should grow poor,
Send them Aglaura's more and more,
Unto the Puritans more Ears,
Then
Ceres in her Garland wears.
V.
But Fortune how canst recompence,
The French mens daily insolence?
For them I know no greater pain,
Then to be sent to
France again.
VI.
To the Physician (if you please)
Send him another new disease,
And give to Scholars (if thou canst do't)
A Benefice without a suit.
VII.
To Court Lords great Monopolies,
And to their Wives Communities,
So Fortune shalt thou please them all,
When Lords do rise and Ladies fall.
VIII.
Unto the Lawyers (I beseech)
As much for silence as for speech▪
To Ladies Ushers strength of Back
And to my self a cup of Sack.
SONG III.
I.
SIT thee down by me (mine own) Joy
Thou'lt quite kill me should'st thou prove Coy,
Should'st be Coy, and have none of me,
Where should I have such another Lass as thee.
II.
I've been at Wake, and I've been at Fair,
Yet saw not one, with thee to Compare.
Long have I sought, but ne're could I find,
One like to thee, if thou prove kind.
III.
Thou shalt have gay things to make the fine,
Thou shalt have all things if thou'lt be mine;
Thy head with the choicest Flowers shall be crown'd,
And thy pink-petty-coat shall be Laced round.
IV.
We'l go early to the brook side,
To catch Fishes as they do glide;
And ev'ry Fish thy Captive shall be,
Thou catching them as thou hast caught me.
V.
When the scrip's full then what shall we do?
But gang to the little house on the hill brow.
There will we sit and eat up our Fish,
But sure 'tis thy self must make the best dish.
VI
Come let me kiss thy cherry lips, and trace
All o're the wonders of thy sweet face;
Thy breasts, that so white, and roundly do rise,
Thy ruddy-Cheeks, and thy black Eyes.
VII.
I'le ly by thee, all the cold night,
Thou shalt have all things for thy delight.
Thou shalt have any thing, thou shalt have me,
Sure I have some thing, that will please thee.
SONG V.
I.
DIana, Penelope, Lucrece,
Were sullen, and Idle Queans,
There is ne're a Countess or Dutchess,
Like one that will use the means:
They give their minds unto't,
And ply you, Tooth and Nail,
And when you set in't they'l do't
As Devil were in their Tail.
II.
They look for no tedious-Woing,
or whispering this and that,
without any further-a-Doing,
They know what you would be at▪
To Dead-Lifts they'l not fail,
And handle your matter so,
But wy-he. They'l wag the tail,
And buckle unto your bow.
III.
Then Pox o'that pittiful Sinner,
That whines at a Ladyes dore,
Hee'l find less of pleasantness in her,
Then in a
Whetston-Whore:
There you must cring, and crouch,
To purchas a kiss o'th Hand,
When here, you may take a touch,
She's ever at your Command.
SONG. VI.
I.
BY the Charms of his
Phillis, lead with vigorous power,
The Shepheard arriv'd, and rush'd in at the dore.
[Page 20]All his hopes, and his fears, were Confirm'd by this Chance,
For he found her at work with herself in a Trance.
II.
On her back she was laid, with her legs spread a sunder,
Nor had she omitted the Pillow laid under:
With only her hand, and her fancy opprest,
She panted and heav'd, you may guess at the rest.
III.
Before he cou'ld come to succor her Flame,
The Nymph was so quick, she had plaid out her Game:
With that she lookt up, and saw him in the place,
Oh wretched! she cry'd, how comes this to pass?
IV.
'Tis the fate of our Sex to lye under this Curse,
If we lye not with yours, we do what is Worse,
We languish in Love, look Pale, and Wan,
Whilst this is the Vertue, resists thee oh Man.
V.
With that the bold Shepherd began to draw near,
And the Nymph started back, with her usual fear.
[Page 22]He closely persu'd, oh! gently she Cry'd,
Oh! Fool that I was, that so long I Deny'd.
VI.
She gave him her hand which she sealed with a Kiss,
And swore 'till that minute she never knew bliss
She smil'd, then Laugh'd out, and about him still hung,
And cry'd (my dear
Damon) I hope you han't done.
VII.
The Shepherd then rallying to charge her again,
With a courage as feirce as at first he began,
By ill sate awaked, and then found it was all
But a Dream, though he look'd upon it as a call.
VIII.
To the Nimph he ador'd, away straight he Ran,
And before an hower past, what he Fancy'd got done,
From that time he swore, he'd believe Revelation
Since to him it had prov'd the best Baud in the Nation.
SONG. IX.
I.
SWeet! let me now this evening dye!
Oh smile not to prevent it,
But use this oppertunity,
Lest that we both repent it;
Frown quickly then, and break my Heart,
That so my way of Dying
May, (though my life be ful of smart,)
Be worth the World's Envying.
II.
Some striving knowledg to refine,
Consume themselves with thinking
Others who freindship seal in Wine,
Are kindly kill'd by Drinking,
And some are Wreck'd on the
Indian Coast,
Thither by gain invited,
Others in smoke of Battel lost,
Whom Drums not Lutes Delighted.
III
Alas! how poorly these Depart!
Their Graves still unattended,
Who Dye not with a broken Heart,
Are not in love Commended.
All praise and pitty moveing,
Who bravely at his mistress Feet,
Can Dye with over Loving.
IV.
And now thou frown'st and now I Dye,
My Corps by lovers Follow'd,
Which straight shall by Dead lovers Lye,
For that ground's only Hallow'd.
If Priests take't ill I have a Grave,
My Death not well approving,
The Poets mine Estate shall have,
To teach the art of Loving.
V.
Then every where they'le ring the Bells,
For thy poor youth Departed,
Who every other else Excells
That is not broken Hearted:
Virgins on me their Flowers shall strew,
But if thy teares Fall near them,
They'le so excell in scent, and shew,
Thy self will shortly wear them.
VI.
Such Flowers how much will
Flora Prise,
Which near a Lover growing,
Will watered be by Mistres Eyes,
With Pitty overflowing?
[Page 34]A Grave thus deckt will (though thou art,
Yet fearful to come nigh me,)
Invite thee straight to break thine Heart,
And ly down boldly by me.
VII.
Then every where the Bells shall Ring,
Whilst all to black is Turning,
And every where all Quires shall Sing,
As natures self were Mourning.
Yet we hereafter shall be Found,
By Destinyes night Placeing,
Making (like Flowers) love under Ground,
Whose Roots are still Embracing.
SONG XIV.
I.
I Am a cunning Constable,
And a bag of Warrants I have here,
To press sufficient Men, and able,
At
Horn-Castle to appear;
But now-a-days they're grown so cunning,
That hearing of this Martial strife,
They all away from hence are running;
Where I miss the Man, I'll press the Wife.
II.
Ho! who's at home? Lo! here am I!
Good morrow, Neighbour.
Welcom, Sir.
Where is your Husband?
Why truly
He's gone abroad, a Journey far.
Do you not know when he comes back?
See how these Cowards fly for life!
[Page 50]The King for Souldiers must not lack;
If I miss the Man, I'll take the Wife.
III.
Shew me by what Authority
You do it? Pray, Sir, let me know.
It is sufficient for to see,
The Warrant hangs in bag below.
Then pull it out, if it be strong,
With you I will not stand at strife.
My Warrant is as broad as long;
If I miss the Man, I'll press the Wife.
IV.
Now you have prest me, and are gone,
Please you, but let me know your name,
That when my Husband he comes home,
I may declare to him the same.
My name is Captain
Ward, I say,
I ne'r fear'd man in all my life:
The King for Souldiers must not stay;
Missing the Man, I'll press the Wife.
SONG XIX.
I.
A Pretty Jest I will you tell,
O'th' guelding of the Devil of Hell.
There was a Baker of
Mansfield Town,
To
Nottingham Market he was bound;
And riding under a Willow there,
The Baker sung with a lusty cheer.
II.
The Baker's Horse was plump and sound,
And worth, in judgment, full five pound;
His skin was smooth, his flesh was fat,
His Master was well pleas'd thereat,
And therefore sings so merrily,
As he was riding on the way.
III.
But as he rode over the Hill,
There meeting with the Devil of Hell
Oh Baker, Baker! then cry'd he,
How came thy Horse so fat to be?
These be the words the Baker did say
Because his Stones are cut away.
IV.
Then, quoth the Devil, if it be so,
Thou shalt gueld me before thou go:
First, tie thy Horse to yonder Tree,
And be thou ready to gueld me.
The Baker had a knife for th' nones,
Wherewith to cut out th'Devils stones.
V.
The Baker, as it came to pass,
In hast alighted from his Horse;
And as the Devil on's back did lay,
The Baker cut his Stones away;
Which put the Devil to great pain,
And made him to cry out amain.
VI.
Oh! quoth the Devil, beshrew thy heart!
Thou dost not feel how I do smart;
And for the Deed that thou hast done,
I will revenged be agen;
And underneath this Green-wood-Tree
Next Market-day I will gueld thee.
VII.
The Baker then but little said,
But at his heart was sore afraid,
And longer there he would not stay,
But he rode home another way,
And coming to his Wife, did tell
How he had guelt the Devil of Hell.
VIII.
Moreover, to his Wife he told
A thing which made her heart full cold:
A grievous word as he did say,
That he'd gueld me next Market-day:
To whom quoth Goodwife, without doubt,
I'd rather both your eyes were out.
IX.
For then all people far and near
That knows thee will both mock and jeer,
And good Wives they will sooff and brawl,
And stoneless Guelding will thee call:
Then hold content, and be thou wise,
And I'll some pretty trick devise.
X.
I'll make the Devil change his Note,
Do thou but lend to me thy Coat,
Thy Hose and Doublet eke also,
And I like to thy self will go,
And warrant thee next Market-day
To fright the Devil quite away.
XI.
The Bakers Wife thus being drest,
With Market-Bread upon her Beast,
She goes to
N
[...]tti
[...]ham brave Town,
To sell her Bread, both white and brown;
And as she rode over the Hill,
She met there with two Devils of Hell.
XII.
A little Devil and another,
As they played both together:
Oh! quoth one of them, right fain,
Here comes the Baker on amain;
And be thou well, or be thou wo,
I will gueld thee before thou go.
XIII.
The Bakers Wife to th' Devil did say,
Sir, I was guelded yesterday.
Oh! quoth the Devil, I mean to see,
Pulling her Coats up to the knee:
So looking upward from the ground,
Oh! there he spy'd a terrible wound.
XIV.
Ah! quoth the Devil, now I see
He was not cunning guelded thee;
For when he had cut out thy Stones,
He should have closed up the wounds:
But if thou'lt stay a little space,
I'll fetch some Salve to cure the place.
XV.
He had gone but a little way,
When up her Belly creept a Flea:
The little Devil seeing that,
He with his paw did giv't a pat:
Which made the Goodwife for to start,
And out she let a rowzing Fart.
XVI.
O! quoth the Devil, thy life's not long,
Thy breath it smells so wondrous strong;
Then go thy way, and make thy will,
This wound is past all humane skill:
Be gone, be gone, make no delay,
For here no longer shalt thou stay.
XVII.
The Goodwife at this News was glad,
And left the Devil almost mad;
And when she to her Husband came,
She gladly told to him the same,
How she had couzen'd the Devil of Hell,
So for to make a Jest full well.
SONG XX.
I.
YOu Rural Goddesses,
That Woods and Fields possess,
Assist me with your skill,
That may direct my Quill
More jocundly to express
The mirth and delight,
Both morning and night,
On Mountain, or in Dale,
Of them who choose
This Trade to use,
Do never refuse
To carry the Milking Pail.
II.
The bravest Lasses gay,
Live not so merry as they;
In honest civil sort
They make each other sport,
As they trudge on the way:
Come fair or foul weather,
They're fearful of neither,
Their Courages never quail:
In wet and dry,
Though winds be high,
And dark the Sky,
They ne'r deny
To carry the Milking Pail.
III.
Their hearts are free from care;
They never do despair,
Whatever do befal,
They bravely bear out all,
And Fortunes frowns out-dare.
They pleasantly sing
To welcom the Spring,
'Gainst Heav'n they never rail.
If Grass will grow,
Their thanks they shew,
And Frost or Snow,
They merrily go
Along with the Milking Pail.
IV.
Base idleness they do scorn,
They rise very early i'th' morn,
And walk into the Fields,
Where pretty Birds do yield
Brave Musick on ev'ry Thorn:
The Linnet and Thrush
Do sing on each Bush,
And the dulcid Nightingale
Her Note doth strain,
In a jocund vain
To entertain
That worthy Train
Which carry the Milking Pail.
V.
Their labour doth health preserve,
No Doctors rules they observe,
While others too nice
In taking their advice,
Look always as if they would starve:
Their meat is digested,
They ne'r are molested,
No sickness doth them assail;
Their time is spent
In merriment,
While Limbs are lent
They are content,
To carry the Milking Pail.
VI.
Those Lasses nice and strange,
That keep shops in the
Change,
Sit pricking of Clouts,
And giving of flouts,
They seldom abroad do range:
Then comes the Green-sickness,
And changeth their likeness,
All this is for want of good sale;
But 'tis not so,
As proof doth show,
By them that go
In Frost and Snow
To carry the Milking Pail.
VII.
If they any Sweethearts have
That do their affections crave,
Their priviledge is this,
Which many others miss,
They can give them welcom brave:
With them they walk,
And pleasantly talk,
With a Bottle of Wine or Ale;
The gentle Cow
Doth them allow,
As they know how,
God speed the Plough,
And bless the Milking Pail.
VIII.
Upon the first of
May,
With Garland fresh and gay,
With Mirth and Musick sweet,
For such a season meet,
They pass their time away:
They dance away sorrow,
And all the day thorow
Their legs do never fail;
Yet they nimbly
Their feet do ply,
And bravely try
The Victory,
In honour o'th' Milking Pail.
IX.
If any think that I
Do practice Flattery,
In seeking thus to raise
The merry Milk-maids praise,
I'll to them thus reply,
It is their Desert
Inviteth my Art
To study this pleasant Tale,
In their defence,
Whose Innocence
And Providence
Gets honest Pence
Out of the Milking Pail.
SONG XXI. CHEVY-CHASE. By Order of the Bishop of
London.
I.
GOD prosper long our Noble King,
our lives and safeties all,
A woful hunting once there did
in
Chevy-Chase befal.
II.
To drive the Deer with Hound & Horn
Earl
Piercy took his way;
The child may rue that is unborn
the hunting of that day.
III.
The stout Earl of
Northumberland
a vow to God did make,
His pleasure in the
Scottish Woods
three Summers days to take.
IV.
The chiefest Harts in
Chevy-Case
to kill and bear away;
These tidings to Earl
Douglas came,
in
Scotland, where he lay.
V.
Who sent Earl
Piercy present word,
he would prevent his Sport:
The
English Earl, not fearing this,
did to the Woods resort.
VI.
With fifteen hundred Bowe-men bold,
all chosen men of might,
Who knew full well in time of need
to aim their Shafts aright.
III.
The gallant Grey-hounds swiftly ran,
to chase the fallow Deer;
On
Monday they began to hunt,
when day-light did appear.
VIII.
And long before high-noon they had
an hundred fat Bucks slain:
Then having din'd, the Drovers went
to rouze them up again.
IX.
The Bowe-men mustred on the Hills,
well able to endure;
Their back-sides all with special care
that day were guarded sure.
X.
The Hounds ran swiftly through the Woods,
the nimble Deer to take;
And with their cries the hills and dales
an Eccho shrill did make.
XI.
Lord
Piercy to the Quarry went,
to view the tender Deer:
Quoth he, Earl
Douglas promised
this day to meet me here.
XII.
But if I thought he would not come,
no longer would I stay.
With that a brave young Gentleman
thus to the Earl did say.
XIII.
Lo, yonder doth Earl
Douglas come,
his men in Armour bright,
Full twenty hundred
Scotish Spears,
all marching in our sight.
XIV.
All men of pleasant
Tividale,
fast by the River
Tweed.
Then cease your sport, E.
Piercy said,
and take your Bowes with speed.
XV.
And now with me, my Countrey-men,
your courage forth advance;
For never was there Champion yet
in
Scotland or in
France,
XVI.
That ever did on Horse-back come,
but if my hap it were,
I durst encounter man for man,
with him to break a Spear.
XVII.
Earl
Douglas on a milk-white Steed,
most like a Baron bold,
Rode foremost of the Company,
whose Armour shone like Gold.
XVIII.
Shew me, he said, whose men you be
that hunt so boldly here,
That without my consent do chase
and kill my fallow Deer.
XIXI.
The man that first did answer make
was Noble
Piercy, he,
Who said, We list not to declare,
Nor shew whose men we be.
XX.
Yet we will spend our dearest blood,
the chiefest Harts to slay.
Then
Douglas swore a solemn Oath,
and thus in rage did say;
XXI.
E'r thus I will out-braved be,
one of us two shall die:
I know thee well, an Earl thou art,
Lord
Piercy, so am I.
XXII.
But, trust me
Piercy, pity it were,
and great offence, to kill
Any of these our harmless men,
for they have done no ill.
XXIII.
Let thou and I the Battle try,
and set our men aside:
Accurst be he, Lord
Piercy said,
by whom it is deny'd.
XXIV.
Then stept a gallant 'Squire forth,
Witherington was his name,
Who said, he would not have it told
to
Henry our King, for shame,
XXV.
That e'r my Captain fought on foot,
and I stood looking on:
You be two Earls, said
Witherington,
and I a'Squire alone.
XXVI.
I'll do the best that do I may,
while I have power to stand;
While I have pow'r to weild my Sword
I'll fight with heart and hand.
XXVII.
Our
English Archers bent their Bowes,
their hearts were good and true;
At the first flight of Arrows sent,
full threescore
Scots they slew.
XXVIII.
To drive the Deer with hound & horn
Earl
Douglas bad the bent;
A Captain mov'd with mickle pride,
the Spears to shivers sent.
XXIX.
They clos'd full fast on ev'ry side,
no slackness there was found,
And many a gallant Gentleman
lay gasping on the ground.
XXX.
O Christ! it was great grief to see,
and likewise for to hear,
The cries of men lying in their gore,
and scattered here and there.
XXXI.
At last these two stout Earls did meet,
like Captains of great might;
Like Lions mov'd they laid on load,
and made a cruel fight.
XXXII.
They fought until they both did sweat
with Swords of tempered steel,
Until the blood, like drops of Rain,
they trickling down did feel.
XXXIII.
Yield thee, Lord
Piercy, Douglas said,
in faith I will thee bring
Where thou shalt high advanced be
by
James our
Scotish King.
XXXIV.
Thy Ransom I will freely give,
and thus report of thee,
Thou art the most couragious Knight
that ever I did see.
XXXV.
No,
Douglas, quoth Earl
Piercy then,
thy proffer I do scorn;
I will not yield to any
Scot
that ever yet was born.
XXXVI.
With that there came an Arrow keen
out of an
English Bowe,
Which struck Earl
Douglas to the heart,
a deep and deadly blow.
XXXVII.
Who never spoke more words than these
fight on my merry men all;
For why my life is at an end,
Lord
Piercy sees my fall.
XXXVIII.
Then leaving life, Earl
Piercy took
the dead man by the hand,
And said, Earl
Douglas, for thy life
would I had lost my land.
XXXIX
O Christ! my very heart doth bleed
with sorrow for thy sake;
For sure a more renowned Knight
Such mischance did ever take.
XL.
A Knight amongst the
Scots there was,
which saw Earl
Douglas die,
And in his wrath did vow revenge
upon the Earl
Piercy.
XLI.
Sir
Hugh Montgomery was he call'd,
who with a Spear most bright,
Well mounted on a gallant Steed,
ran fiercely through the fight:
XLII.
And past the
English Archers all,
without all dread or fear,
And through Earl
Piercy's body then
he thrust his hateful Spear,
XLIII.
With such a vehement force & might
he did his body gore,
The Spear went through the other side
a large Cloth-yard and more.
XLIV.
So thus did both these Nobles die,
whose courage none could stain.
An
English Archer then perceiv'd
the Noble Earl was slain:
XLV.
He had a Bowe bent in his hand,
made of a trusty Tree;
An Arrow of a Cloth-yard long
up to the head drew he:
XLVI.
Against Sir
Hugh Montgomery
so right his shaft he set,
The grey-goose-wing that was thereon
in his heart blood was wet.
XLVII.
This fight did last from break of day,
till setting of the Sun;
For when they rung the evening Bell,
the battle scarce was done.
XLVIII.
With the Earl
Piercy there was slain
Sir
John of
Ogerton,
Sir
Robert Ratcliff, and Sir
John,
Sir
James that bold Baron.
XLIX.
And with Sir
George and good Sir
James
both Knights of good account,
Good Sir
Ralph Rabby there was slain,
whose prowess did surmount.
L.
For
Witherington needs must I wail,
as one in doleful dumps;
For when his legs were smitten off,
he fought upon his stumps.
LI.
And with Earl
Douglas there was slain
Sir
Hugh Montgomery,
Sir
Charles Currel, that from the field
one foot would never flie.
LII.
Sir
Charles Murrel of
Ratcliff too,
his Sisters Son was he;
Sir
David Lamb so well esteem'd,
Yet saved could not be.
LIII.
And the Lord
Markwel in likewise
did with Earl
Douglas die:
Of twenty hundred
Scotish Spears,
scarce fifty five did fly.
LIV
Of fifteen hundred English men,
went home but fifty three,
The rest were slain in
Chevy-Chase
under the Green-Wood tree.
LV.
Next day did many widdows come,
their Husbands to bewail,
They washt their wounds in brinish tears,
but all would not prevail.
LVI.
Their bodies bath'd in purple blood,
they bore with them away,
They kist them dead a thousand times,
when they were clad in clay.
LVII.
This news was brought to
Edenburg,
Where Scotlands King did reign,
That brave Earl
Dowglas suddenly,
was with an Arrow slain,
LVIII.
O heavy news King
James did say,
Scotland can witness be,
I have not any Captain more,
of such account as he.
LIX.
Like tidings to King
Henry came,
within as short a space,
That
Peircy of
Northumberland,
was slain in
Chevy-Chase.
LX.
Now God be with him said our King,
sith't will no better be,
I trust I have within my Realm,
five hundred as good as he.
LXI.
Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say,
but I will vengeance take,
And be revenged on them all,
for brave Earl
Pircies sake.
LXII.
This vow full well the K. perform'd,
after an
Humble Down,
In one day fifty Knights were slain
with Lords of great renown.
LXIII.
And of the rest of small account
did many hundreds dye,
Thus ended the hunting of
Chevy-Chase
made by the Earl
Piercy.
LXIV.
God save the King and bless the Land
in plenty, joy, and Peace,
And grant henceforth that foul debate,
'twixt Noble men may cease.
SONG XXIII.
I.
I'Le tell you all, both great and small,
I tell you all truly,
That we have cause, and very great cause,
For to Lament and Cry,
Fy, Oh! fy, oh! fy, oh! fy!
Fy on thee Cruel Death!
For thou hast ta'ne away from us!
Our Queen
Elizabeth.
II.
Thou mayst have taken other folks,
That better might be mist,
And have let our Queen alone,
Who lov'd no Popish Priest,
In Peace she rul'd all this Land,
Beholding unto no Man,
And did the Pope of
Rome withstand,
And yet was but a Woman.
III.
A Woman said I? nay that is more,
Then any one can tell,
So fair she was, so chast she was,
That no one knew it well,
With that, from
France came
Monsier o're,
A purpose for to woe her,
Yet still she liv'd, and Dy'd a Maid,
Do what they could unto her.
IV.
She never acted any ill thing,
That made her Conscience prick her,
Nor never would submit to him,
That called is Christs Vicar,
But rather chose couragiously,
To Fight under Christs Banner
'Gainst
Pope and
Turk and King of
Spain,
And all that durst withstand her.
V.
But if that I had
Argus Eyes,
They were to few to weep,
For our Queen
Elizabeth,
That now is fal'n a sleep,
A sleep indeed where she shall rest,
Until the day of Doom,
And then shall rise unto the shame
Of the great Pope of
Rome.
SONG XXXI.
Dialogue.
Strephon.
COme my
Daphne! come away!
We do wast the Christal day:
Daphne.
'Tis
Strephon call's, what would my love?
Strephon.
Come follow to the myrtle Grove,
Where
Venus shall prepare,
Fresh Chaplets for thine hair.
Daphne.
Were I shut up within a tree,
I'd rend my bark to follow thee.
Strephon.
My Shepardess make hast,
The Minutes slide too fast.
In those Cooler shades will I,
Blind as
Cupid kiss thine eye,
In such warm Snow who will not lose his way.
Chorus.
We'l laugh and leave this world behind,
And God's themselves that see,
Shall Envy thee and me,
But never know such Joyes,
When they Embrace a Deity.
SONG XXXVIII.
I.
MY Dearest sweet ly down by me,
With thine Enamell'd ckeek to mine,
While I my Soul breath into thee,
And every kiss returns me thine.
II.
Our Bodies we'l in Pleasures lull,
And active Dalliances prove;
For why? th' face is not more full,
Of Beauty than I am of Love.
III.
My willing Armes and Thighs shall clip,
And Ivy-like thy limbs entwine,
A sure restoring Medicine.
IV.
And in the Respites of our sport,
Thou shalt be-pearl thy Diamond Eye
Cause Nature made her sweet so short,
And shame me to a fresh supply.
V.
My busy hand and lips shall rove,
O're all the sweets thy beauties wear
And in thine Hony-suckle-grove,
I'le distill what I gather'd there,
VI.
Thy bold, and thy provoking touch,
Shall Loves Alimbeck so apply,
And shew thy Chymick skill is such,
That I must melt in Love and Dy.
VII
And being thus bereft of breath,
Lovers shall at my Tomb appear,
Wishing themselves no worse a Death,
Nor better life, then I had here.
VIII.
Ladies shall sighing drop a Tear,
As with pure Love and Pity mov'd,
That such a constant Servant (here,)
Should dy because he over Lov'd.
POEM XXXIX. On the Market in St.
Pauls Church-Yard, set up by
Tichborn, and Removed by Sir
Rich. Browne Kt. and B. Lord Mayor of
London.
Sacer hic locus est, procul hinc procul ite prophani.
THe House of Prayer was made a Den of Thieves,
Heavens forgive us! lets amend our Lives!
A Scourge befal that Mony-changing Crew,
Where neither God, nor
Caesar has his due!
Defiling sacred ground with Market stuff,
As if the Streets had not been broad enough,
To make a Burial-Place, a place of Trade,
It is a kind of Living by the Dead,
Me thinks the grave should open, & the sprights,
Of such as sin'd by measure & by Weights,
Should fright these Sons of Traffick from their bound
Who with unhallow'd feet profan'd their ground,
Tis well their Spirits are laid:
Tichburn's a Guest,
Like an ill Conscience, ner'e would let them rest,
What could we hope for, when we could not have,
Quiet, within a solitary grave?
[Page 121]But oh! how just is Heaven! his doom is red,
No place among the Living, or the Dead;
Perch with thy Brethren in Iniquity!
A just Reward for all thy Simony!
Whilst Pious
Browne deserves our thanks at least,
That when we are dead, our bones shall be at Rest.
SONG XL.
I.
LEt's wet the whistle of the Muse,
That sings the praise of every Juice,
This House affords for Mortals use,
Which no Body can Deny.
II.
Heres Ale of
Hull which 'tis well known
Kept King and Keyser out of Town,
Now in, will never hurt the Crown,
Which no body, &c.
III.
Here's
Lambeth Ale to cool the Maw,
And Beer as Spruce as e're you saw,
But Mum as good as Man can draw,
Which no, &c.
IV.
If Reins be loose as some mens Lives,
Whereat the Purling Female grieves,
Here's stitch-back that will please your Wives,
Which, &c.
V.
Here's Cyder too, you little wot,
How oft 'twill make you go to pot,
Tis Red-streak all or it is not,
Which, &c.
VI.
Here's Scholar that has dost his Gown,
And donn'd his Cloak & came to Town,
Till all's up drink his Colledg down,
Which, &c.
VII.
Here's
North-down, which in many a Case,
Pulls all the Bloud into the face,
Which blushing is a sign of Grace,
Which, &c.
VIII.
If belly full of Ale doth grow,
And Women runs in head, you know,
Old
Pharoh will not let you go,
Which, &c.
XI.
Here's that by some bold Brandy hight,
Which
Dutch men use in Case of fright,
Will make a Coward for to fight,
Which, &c.
X.
Here's China Ale surpasseth far,
What munden vents at Temple Bar,
Tis good for Lords and Ladies ware,
Which, &c.
XI.
Here's of Epsam will not fox
You, more then whats drawn out of Cocks
Of
Middleton, yet cures th'Pox,
Which, &c.
XXII:
For ease of heart here's that will do't,
A Liquor you may have to boot,
Invites you or the Devil to't,
Which, &c.
XIII.
For Bottle Ale though it be windy,
Whereof I cannot choose but mind yee,
I would not have it left behind yee,
Which, &c.
XIV.
Take Scurvy Grass or Raddish Ale,
Twill make you like an Horse to stale,
And cures whatsoever you Ail,
Which, &c.
XV.
For County Ales as that of Chess,
Or of
Darby you'l confess,
The more you drink, you'l need the less,
Which, &c.
XVI.
But one thing must be thought upon,
For mornings draught when all is done
A Pot of Purle for
Harrison,
Which no body can deny.
SONG XLI.
I.
LEts sing as one may say the Fate
Of those that meddle with this and that,
And more then comes to their shares do prate,
Which no body can deny.
II.
Such who their Wine and Coffee Sip,
And let fall words 'twixt Cup and Lip,
To scandal of good fellowship,
Which no body, &c.
III.
Those Clubbers who when met & sate,
Where every Seat is Chair of State,
As if they only knew whats what.
VVhich, &c.
IV
Dam me says one, were I so and so,
Or as the King I know what I know,
The Devil too wood with the
French should go,
Which, &c.
V.
Would the King Comission grant
To me, were
Lewis John of Gant,
I'de beat him or know why I shant,
Which no, &c,
VI.
I'de undertake bring scores to ten
Of mine at hours-warning-men,
To make
France tremble once again▪
Which, &c.
VII.
The Claret takes, yet e're he drinks,
Cries Pox o'th'
French-man, but me thinks
It must go round to my brothe-
Which, &c.
VIII.
He's the only Citizen of Sence,
And Liberty is his pretence,
And has enough of Conscience,
Which, &c.
IX.
The Bully that next to him sate,
With a green Livery in his Hat,
Cry'd what a plague would the
French be at,
Which, &c.
X.
Zounds had the King without Offence,
Been Rul'd by me, you'd seen long since,
Chastisement for their Insolence,
Which, &c.
XI.
They take our Ships, do what they please,
VVere ever play'd such Pranks as these,
As if we were not Lord o'th' Seas,
Which, &c.
XII.
I told the King on't th'ther day.
And how th' Intreagues o'th' matter lay,
But Princes will have their one way,
Which, &c.
XIII.
The next Man that did widen throat
Was wight in half pil'd Velvet Coat,
But he and that not worth a Groat,
Which, &c.
XIV.
VVho being planted next the Dore,
(Pox on him for a Son of Whore)
Inveighs against the Embassador,
XV
Had the King (quoth he) put me upon't,
You should have found how I had don't,
But now you see what is come on't,
Which, &c.
XVI.
Quoth he if such an Act had stood,
That was design'd for publick good,
'Thad pass'd more then is understood,
Which, &c.
XVII.
But now forsooth our strictest Laws,
Are 'gainst the Friends o'th' good old Cause,
And if one hangs the other draws,
Which, &c.
XVIII.
But had
I but so worthy been,
To sit in place that some are in,
I better had advis'd therein,
Which, &c.
XIX.
I am one that firm doth stand
For Manefactures of the Land,
Then Cyder takes in, out of hand,
Which, &c.
XX.
This English Wine (quoth he) & Ale,
Our Fathers drank before the Sale
Of Sack on Pothecaries Stall,
Which, &c.
XXI.
These Outlandish drinks quoth he,
The
French, and
Spanish Foppery,
They tast too much of Popery,
Which, &c.
XXII.
And having thus their Verdicts spent,
Concerning King and Parliament,
They Scandalize a Government,
Which, &c.
XXIII.
An Hierarchy by such a Prince,
As may be said without offence,
None e're could boast more Excellence,
Which, &c.
XXIV.
God bless the King, the Queen & Peers,
Our Parliament and Overseres,
And rid us of such Mutineers,
Which no body can deny.
SONNET XLII.
I.
REproach me not heretofore,
I only freedome did adore,
And bragg'd that none tho kind and fair,
My loss of heart could er'e repair
Since I most willingly do yield
To
Cloris beauty all the feild
II.
With greater joy I now resign,
My freedome then thou yet keep'st thine.
And am resolv'd constant to prove
Though thy neglect transcend my love.
Strange charmes they are that make me burn,
VVithout the hope of a return.
III.
Thine eyes the greatest heart out braves,
And at once pleases and enslaves,
Thou wouldst not sure else see in them,
An Act which now thou dost Condemn.
Who then shall that assault abide,
When fate doth strike on either side.
IV.
Thy Charming voice is much more free,
Then after it thy hearers be.
Nay thy voice is so firm and Clear
That it inspires love through the Ear.
VVho then can hope for a defence,
Since thou hast chrams for every sence.
V.
I must confess a while I strove
With reasons to resist my love.
As Saints sometimes 'gainst death do pray,
Though't be to heaven the only way.
'Tis
Cloris only hath the skill,
To make me blest against my will.
VI.
Nor will I so much as indure,
To think inconstancy a Cure.
For were I to that sin but bent,
Here would it prove my punishment.
Where to adore I must Confess,
Is better then elswhere success.
VII.
To see thee and not be in love
A wonder like thy self would prove.
Thy charmes by vertue and by Art,
Do each of them deserve an Heart,
So that my sorrow is not small,
I have but one to pay them all.
POEM LXIII. The new Year. To the ever Honored Mrs.
M. H.
WHen I perceive the lease bund tenants prove,
Their
vn-mal'd Foules, fit Emblems of their love.
(Which they Coop up, like the Tyth-Pig I mean,
Not to approve in fat, but keep them lean.)
(A single offering, not an Hecatombe.)
And starvling verses on your Alter lay,
In lieu of what the
Indyes cannot pay;
That in a just dislike, as of that Crew,
You will conclude that I'me ill guisted too.
But I assume the Complement they make.,
—
Madam, I wish 'twere better for your sake
But as it is—
Live long and Happy! that your Age may be,
As a Continual lasting Jubilee!
And be it made the business of your life,
To prove the Joyes of a Beloved Wife.
Yet never know the same! and may all those,
Sorrows Contriv'd for you, befall your Foes!
And let your Marriage Computation run,
With even Feet, for every year a Sun,
And what we do in other Children call,
A Dutious-Love, in them be Naturall!
Last having left a fair posterity,
To stock the Earth, ascend unto the Skye!
Where you shall reap the Joyes of Heavens store,
When years shall cease, and time shall be no more.
SONG XLIV: Mock.
I.
FUll twenty times over and twenty to that,
I musing have wondred what tis you'd be at,
You pine and look pale like the liquors that's flat.
For he's a cold Drinker,
That now will turn skinker.
Since thus runs the play,
Since thus runs the play,
If you sit up all night you are ready next day,
Since thus runs the play,
If you sit up all night you are ready next day.
II.
There's a Pipe ready Broach'd that would not be shut,
With Legions of bottles prepar'd for the gut,
If you give but your mind to't you'l swallow a But.
Then stand not so dully
But laver the Gully,
VVith beer-bowl in fist,
VVith beer-bowl in fist,
If you charge him but well you may hit whom you ist.
VVith beer-bowl in fist,
III.
Some idle Companions when with them you sit,
Will talk and fly high as if they had all the wit
But alas it appears there the Devil a bit.
Their Bisket Jests after
They've steept in their laughter,
VVith their pipes being broke,
VVith their pipes being broke.
And their Tobacco once out, they will vanish in smoak
VVith their pipes
&c.
IV.
Some stately proud high Boys will rant it & call
As if they would tipple the devil and all,
But stand to them stiffly they will easily fall.
Then to it nere fear them
Set foot and come near them
By drinking about,
By drinking about.
Be their heads ne're so empty they can ne're hold it out,
By drinking about,
Be there heads ne're so empty they can nere hold it out.
V.
Some Punyes whose Cheekes are with blushes o're laid
To fuddle a gallon will not be afraid,
Put them to't and but tell them they drink like a maid
Then cry but have at it,
Lads will you be at it.
If e're they refuse,
If e're they refuse,
To water as thou dost or I let them chuse,
If e're they refuse
To water as thou dost or I let them chuse.
SONG XLV. Mock.
I.
GOod Gaffer stand a loofe
With your tinder-box hoof,
That strikes fire at each stroak
VVith a fume that choake
One sooner then the vapour of matc
[...]
Your stamps and your shrugs,
Your claps and your hugs,
Your salute with a stroak,
That would fell down an Oak;
VVith Zounds Rogue how dost,
And such clouted accost.
You may keep for the Clods and the Thatch,
You'r a Creature below us to bondage accurst,
When the beasts vnto
Adam were subjected first.
II.
Titles are but a sign,
To that which is within
To let you Clounes know,
What duty you owe,
To their vertue and birth that do bear them,
Else would you gape wider
On the Horse then the Rider,
Dick the Constable more.
VVhen with state he doth sit,
VVith Rug gown and no wit.
Then Robes or the nobles that wear them,
A tough back's the best Herauld you peasants can have,
And the heigth of your title a lusty stout Knave.
No clothes can controule,
A Gentlemans Soul
But still hee'l appear,
All glorious and Clear.
Through the Clouds of blew breeches and patching.
VVhile you though daub'd o're,
VVith that you adore,
Gold lace cannot hide
Or change your inside,
But that we may know
Though glittering go,
You've a Soule that is scarce worth the thatching.
A lord though in rags still looks like the Law,
VVrit in worme eaten bookes that strikes terrour and Awe.
IV.
VVe all are but dust
Yet differ we must.
For if you can say
Bacon broth and sowr whey
[Page 136]With which the Veins of you Bores swolne be,
Is the same or as good
As that generous Bloud,
Which flows from the Springs
Of Princes and Kings,
The way to be forgot,
Were to be Valiant and stout,
Since our deeds Live no longer then we,
Our Children the Gout and our Acres inherit,
And why not what's our own too, our Titles and Merit.
V.
Then in your thatch sit
And drink Ale as 'tis fit,
And if you aspire,
Be it but to drink higher,
Call for sack and let State things alone,
Or if you do look
Into a News Book,
Be it but to advise
How your Rents may arise,
And new Cesses and Rates,
To Genteelize your Estates,
And inable you by being undone,
So may you gain Honour while your no Cares afford
You leasure to tipple, and be as drunk's a Lord.
SONG XLIX.
I.
LOve! let me have my Mistress such
(If I must need have one,
Whose mettal will indure the touch,
Whose touch will try the stone!
Let her have sence I ask no more
A Womans reason I abhor!
II.
Her noon like Eyes should shine as clear;
And be so fixt on mine,
The Salamander babe there,
Should kindle and entwine,
Then look me dead, that men may swear
There is no Basilisk but her.
III.
If th' upper manna-lips distill,
The sweets of every food,
To sauce the Appetite (not fill)
The Lover
Limbeck's good:
To relish which▪ let Love invent,
Away to crane his Instrument.
IV.
The shrillows of the Siren noise,
Should charm an
Adders Ear;
And where she Eccho'd all to voice,
I'de be in Love with her▪
So he might Juncat on such Air.
V.
I'de have her panther in her breath;
And
Phaenix in her breast,
The vallies that are underneath,
The Spicery of the East.
I'de have her without much ado,
But lo! I'de have her naked too:
In spight of Fate, thus would I lye
Mandrake to all Eternity.