Cavalier Songs and Ballads of England from 1642 to 1684 Part 30

A pox of the fooling and plotting of late, What a pudder and stir has it kept in the State!

Let the rabble run mad with suspicions and fears, Let 'em scuffle and rail till they go by the ears, - Their grievances never shall trouble my pate, So I but enjoy my dear bottle at quiet.

What c.o.xcombs were those that would ruin their case And their necks for a toy, a thin wafer, and ma.s.s!

For at Tyburn they never had needed to swing Had they been but true subjects to drink and their King: A friend and a bottle is all my design, - He's no room for treason that's top-full of wine.

I mind not the members and makers of laws, Let them sit or prorogue as his Majesty please; Let 'em d.a.m.n us to Woolen, I'le never repine At my usage when dead, so alive I have wine; Yet oft in my drink I can hardly forbear To blame them for making my claret so dear.

I mind not grave allies who idly debate About rights and successions, the trifles of State; We've a good King already, and he deserves laughter That will trouble his head with who shall come after: Come, here's to his health! and I wish he may be As free from all cares and all troubles as we.

SECOND PART

What care I how leagues with Hollanders go, Or intrigues 'twist Mounsieurs or Dons for to?

What concerns it my drinking if cities be sold, If the conqueror takes them by storming or gold?

From whence claret comes is the place that I mind, And when the fleet's coming I pray for a wind.

The bully of France that aspires to renown By dull cutting of throats, and by venturing his own; Let him fight till he's ruined, make matches, and treat, To afford us still news, the dull coffee-house cheat: He's but a brave wretch, whilst that I am more free, More safe, and a thousand times happier than he.

In spite of him, or the Pope, or the Devil, Or f.a.ggot, or fire, or the worst of h.e.l.l's evil, I still will drink healths to the lovers of wine, Those jovial, brisk blades that do never repine; I'll drink in defiance of napkin or halter, Tho' religion turn round still, yet mine shall ne'er alter.

But a health to good fellows shall still be my care, And whilst wine it holds out, no b.u.mpers we'll spare.

I'll subscribe to pet.i.tions for nothing but claret, That that may be cheap, here's both my hands for it; 'Tis my province, and with it I only am pleased, With the rest, scolding wives let poor cuckolds appease.

No doubt 'tis the best of all drinks, or so soon It ne'er had been chose by the Man in the Moon, (110) Who drinks nothing else, both by night and by day But claret, brisk claret, and most people say, Whilst gla.s.ses brimful to the stars they go round, Which makes them shine brighter with red juice still crown'd.

For all things in Nature doe live by good drinking, And he's a dull fool, and not worthy my thinking, That does not prefer it before all the treasure The Indies contain, or the sea without measure; 'Tis the life of good fellows, for without it they pine, When nought can revive them but brimmers of wine.

I know the refreshments that still it does bring, Which have oftentimes made us as great as a king In the midst of his armies where'er he is found, Whilst the bottles and gla.s.ses I've muster'd round; Who are Bacchus' warriors a conquest will gain Without the least bloodshed, or wounded, or slain.

Then here's a good health to all those that love peace, Let plotters be d.a.m.n'd and all quarrels now cease Let me but have wine and I care for no more, 'Tis a treasure sufficient; there's none can be poor That has Bacchus to's friend, for he laughs at all harm, Whilst with high-proofed claret he does himself arm.

Printed for J. Jordan, at the Angel, Giltspur Street.

Ballad: The Loyal Subjects' Hearty Wishes To King Charles II.

From Sir W. C. Trevelyan's Broadsides in the British Museum.

He that write these verses certainly Did serve his royal father faithfully, Likewise himself he served at Worcester fight, And for his loyalty was put to flight.

But had he a haid of hair like Absolom, And every hair as strong as was Samson, I'd venture all for Charles the Second's sake, And for his Majesty my life forsake.

To the tune "When Cannons are roaring."

FIRST PART.

True subjects, all rejoice After long sadness, And now with heart and voice Show forth your gladness.

That to King Charles were true And rebels hated, This song only to you Is dedicated; For Charles our sovereign dear Is safe returned True subjects' hearts to cheer, That long have mourned: Then let us give G.o.d praise That doth defend him, And pray with heart and voice, Angels, attend him.

The dangers he hath past From vile usurpers Now bring him joy at last, Although some lurkers Did seek his blood to spill By actions evil; But G.o.d we see is still Above the Devil: Though many serpents hiss Him to devour, G.o.d his defender is By His strong power: Then let us give him praise That doth defend him, And sing with heart and voice, Angels, defend him.

The joy that he doth bring, If true confessed, The tongues of mortal men Cannot confess it; He cures our drooping fears, Being long tormented, And his true Cavaliers Are well contented; For now the Protestant Again shall flourish; The King our nursing father He will us cherish: Then let us give G.o.d praise That did defend him, And sing with heart and voice, Angels, attend him.

Like Moses, he is meek And tender-hearted; And by all means doth seek To have foes converted; But, like the Israelites, There are a number That for his love to them 'Gainst him doth murmur: Read Exodus, - 'tis true The Israelites rather Yield to the Egyptian crew Than Moses their father: So many phanaticks, With hearts disloyal, Their hearts and minds do fix 'Gainst our King royal.

SECOND PART.

Like holy David, he Past many troubles, And by his constancy His joys redoubles; For now he doth bear sway By G.o.d appointed, For Holy Writ doth say, Touch not mine Anointed.

He is G.o.d's anointed sure, Who still doth guide him In all his wayes most pure, Though some divide him.

Then let us give G.o.d praise That doth defend him, And sing with heart and voice, Angels, attend him.

Many there are, we know, Within this nation, Lip-love to him do show In 'simulation; Of such vile hereticks There are a number, Whose hearts and tongues, we know, Are far asunder; Some do pray for the King Being constrained; Who lately against him Greatly complained; They turn both seat and seam To cheat poor tailors, But the fit place for them Is under strong jailors.

Let the King's foes admire Who do reject him; Seeing G.o.d doth him inspire, And still direct him, To heal those evil sores, And them to cure By his most gracious hand And prayers pure.

Though simple people say Doctors do as much, None but our lawful King Can cure with a touch; As plainly hath been seen Since he returned, - Many have cured been Which long have mourned.

The poorest wretch that hath This evil, sure May have ease from the King And perfect cure; His Grace is meek and wise, Loving and civil, And to his enemies Doth good for evil; For some that were his foes Were by him healed; His liberal cause to bless Is not concealed; He heals both poor and rich By G.o.d's great power, And his most gracious touch Doth them all cure.

Then blush, you infidels, That late did scorn him; And you that did rebel, Crave pardon of him; With speed turn a new leaf For your transgresses; Hear what the preacher sayes In Ecclesiastes, - The Scripture's true, and shall Ever be taught; Curse not the King at all, No, not in thy thought: And holy Peter Two commandments doth bring, - Is first for to fear G.o.d, And then honour the King.

When that we had no King To guide the nation, Opinions up did spring By toleration; And many heresies Were then advanced, And cruel liberties By old Noll granted.

Even able ministers Were not esteemed; Many false prophets Good preachers were deemed.

The Church some hated; A barn, house, or stable Would serve the Quakers, With their wicked rabble.

And now for to conclude: The G.o.d of power Preserve and guide our King Both day and hour; That he may rule and reign Our hearts to cherish; And on his head, good Lord, Let his crown flourish.

Let his true subjects sing With hearts most loyal, G.o.d bless and prosper still Charles our King royal.

So now let's give G.o.d praise That doth defend him, And sing with heart and voice, Angels defend him.

London, printed for John Andrews, at the White Lion, near Pye- Court.

Ballad: King Charles The Second's Restoration, 29th May.

Tune, "Where have you been, my lovely sailor bold?"