Part 16

This sword it prevails, too, So highly in Wales, too, Shenkin ap Powel swears “Cots-splutterer nails, too.”

In Scotland this faster Did make such disaster, That they sent their money back For which they sold their master.

It batter’d their Gunkirk, And so it did their Spainkirk, That he is fled, and swears the devil Is in Dunkirk.

He that can tower, Or he that is lower, Would be judged a fool to put Away his power.

Take books and rent ’em, Who can invent ’em, When that the sword replies, Negatur argumentum.

Your brave college-butlers Must stoop to the sutlers; There’s ne’er a library Like to the cutlers’.

The blood that was spilt, sir, Hath gain’d all the gilt, sir; Thus have you seen me run my Sword up to the hilt, sir.

THE STATE’S NEW COIN.

The coinage issued during the Protectorate of Cromwell, consisted of pieces having on the obverse side a shield with St George’s cross, encircled by a laurel and palm branch, and the words, “The Commonwealth of England.” On the reverse side was the legend, “God with us,” and two shields, bearing the arms of England and Ireland.

SAW you the State’s money new come from the Mint? Some people do say it is wonderous fine; And that you may read a great mystery in’t, Of mighty King Nol, the lord of the coin.

They have quite omitted his politic head, His worshipful face, and his excellent nose; But the better to show the life he had led, They have fix’d upon it the print of his hose.

For, if they had set up his picture there, They needs must ha’ crown’d him in Charles’s stead; But ’twas cunningly done, that they did forbear, And rather would set up aught else than his head.

’Tis monstrous strange, and yet it is true, In this reformation we should have such luck; That crosses were always disdain’d by you, Who before pull’d them down, should now set them up.

On this side they have circumscribed “God with us,” And in this stamp and coin they confide; Common-Wealth on the other, by which we may guess That God and the States were not both of a side.

On this side they have cross and harp, And only a cross on the other set forth; By which we may learn, it falls to our part Two crosses to have for one fit of mirth!

THE ANARCHIE, OR THE BLEST REFORMATION SINCE 1640.

Being a new song, wherein the people expresse their thankes and pray for the reformers.

To be said or sung of all the well-affected of the kingdome of England, and dominion of Wales, before the breaking up of this unhappy Parliament.

To a rare new Tune. (Oct. 24, 1648.)

NOW that, thankes to the powers below! We have e’ne done out our doe, The mitre is downe, and so is the crowne, And with them the coronet too; Come clownes, and come boyes, come hober-de-hoyes, Come females of each degree; Stretch your throats, bring in your votes, And make good the anarchy. And “thus it shall goe,” sayes Alice; “Nay, thus it shall goe,” sayes Amy; “Nay, thus it shall goe,” sayes Taffie, “I trow;” “Nay, thus it shall goe,” sayes Jamy.

Ah! but the truth, good people all, The truth is such a thing; For it wou’d undoe both Church and State too, And cut the throat of our King. Yet not the spirit, nor the new light, Can make this point so cleare, But thou must bring out, thou deified rout, What thing this truth is, and where. Speak Abraham, speak Kester, speak Judith, speak Hester, Speak tag and rag, short coat and long; Truth’s the spell made us rebell, And murther and plunder, ding-dong. “Sure I have the truth,” sayes Numph; “Nay, I ha’ the truth,” sayes Clemme; “Nay, I ha’ the truth,” sayes Reverend Ruth; “Nay, I ha’ the truth,” sayes Nem.

Well, let the truth be where it will, We’re sure all else is ours; Yet these divisions in our religions May chance abate our powers. Then let’s agree on some one way, It skills not much how true; Take Pryn and his clubs; or Say and his tubs, {33} Or any sect old or new; The devil’s i’ th’ pack, if choyce you can lack, We’re fourscore religions strong; Take your choyce, the major voyce Shall carry it, right or wrong. “Then wee’le be of this,” sayes Megg; “Nay, wee’le be of that,” sayes Tibb; “Nay, wee’le be of all,” sayes pitifull Paul; “Nay, wee’le be of none,” sayes Gibb.

Neighbours and friends, pray one word more, There’s something yet behinde; And wise though you be, you doe not well see In which doore sits the winde. As for religion to speake right, And in the Houses sence, The matter’s all one to have any or none, If ’twere not for the pretence. But herein doth lurke the key of the worke, Even to dispose of the crowne, Dexteriously, and as may be, For your behoofe and your owne. “Then let’s ha’ King Charles,” sayes George; “Nay, let’s have his son,” sayes Hugh; “Nay, let’s have none,” sayes Jabbering Jone; “Nay, let’s be all kings,” sayes Prue.

Oh we shall have (if we go on In plunder, excise, and blood) But few folke and poore to domineere ore, And that will not be so good; Then let’s resolve on some new way, Some new and happy course, The country’s growne sad, the city horne-mad, And both the Houses are worse. The synod hath writ, the generall hath spit, And both to like purposes too; Religion, lawes, the truth, the cause, Are talk’t of, but nothing we doe. “Come, come, shal’s ha’ peace?” sayes Nell; “No, no, but we won’t,” sayes Madge; “But I say we will,” sayes firy-faced Phill; “We will and we won’t,” sayes Hodge.

Thus from the rout who can expect Ought but division? Since unity doth with monarchy Begin and end in one. If then when all is thought their owne, And lyes at their behest, These popular pates reap nought but debates, From that many round-headed beast; Come, Royalists, then, doe you play the men, And Cavaliers give the word; Now let us see at what you would be, And whether you can accord. “A health to King Charles!” sayes Tom; “Up with it,” sayes Ralph, like a man; “God blesse him,” sayes Doll; “and raise him,” sayes Moll; “And send him his owne!” sayes Nan.

Now for these prudent things that sit Without end and to none, And their committees, that townes and cities Fill with confusion; For the bold troopes of sectaries, The Scots and their partakers, Our new British states, Col. Burges and his mates, The covenant and its makers; For all these wee’le pray, and in such a way, As if it might granted be, Jack and Gill, Mat and Will, And all the world would agree. “A plague take them all!” sayes Besse; “And a pestilence too!” sayes Margery, “The devill!” sayes Dick; “And his dam, {34} too!” sayes Nick; “Amen! and Amen!” say I.

It is desired that the knights and burgesses would take especial care to send down full numbers hereof to their respective counties and burroughs, for which they have served apprenticeship, that all the people may rejoyce as one man for their freedom.

A COFFIN FOR KING CHARLES, A CROWN FOR CROMWELL, AND A PIT FOR THE PEOPLE.