's a good health to Black-smiths all And let it goe round as round as a ball Wee 'l drink it all off though it cost us a fall Which no body c. Loyalty confin'd BEat on proud Billowes Bore as Blow Swell curled Waves high as Joves roof Your incivility doth shew That innocence is tempest proof Though surly Nereus frown my thoughts are calme Then strike affliction for thy wounds are balm That which the world miscalls a Gaole A private Closet is to me Whilst a good Conscience is my Baile And Innocence my Liberty Locks Barres and solitude together met Make me no Prisoner but an Anchorit I whil'st I wish'd to be retir'd Into this private room was turn'd As if their wisdomes had conspir'd The Salamander should be burn'd Or like those sophies who would drown a Fish So I am condemn'd to suffer what I wish The Cynick hugs his poverty The Pelican her wildernesse And 't is the Indians pride to be Naked on frozen Caucasus Contentment cannot smart Stoicks we see Make torments easie to their Apathy These Mannacles upon my Arme I as my Mistris's favours weare And for to keep my Ankles warme I have some Iron Shackles there These walls are but my Garrison this Cell Which men call Goal doth prove my Cittadel So he that strook at Jasons ' life Thinking he had his purpose sure By a malitious friendly-knife Did onely wound him to a cure Malice I see wants wit for what is meant Mischief oft-times proves favour by th' event I 'm in this Cabinet lockt up Like some high-prized Margaret Or like some great Mogol or Pope Are cloyftered up from publick sight Retirement is a piece of Majesty And thus proud Sultan I 'me as great as thee Here sin for want of food must starve Where tempting objects are not seen And these strong Walls doe onely serve To keep Vice out and keep me in Malice of late's growen charitable sure I 'm not Committed but I 'm kept secure When once my Prince affliction hath Prosperity doth Treason seeme And for to smooth so rough a Path I can learne Patience from him Now not to suffer shews no Loyall heart When Kings want ease Subjects must learne to smart Have you not seeen the Nightingale A Pilgrim koopt into a Cage How doth she chant her wonted tale In that her narrow hermitage Even then her charming melody doth prove That all her boughs are trees her Cage a grove My Soule is free as the Ambient aire Although my bafer part 's immur'd Whilest Loyall thoughts doe still repaire To accompany my Solitude And though immur'd yet I can chirp sing Disgrace to Rebels is glory to my King What though I cannot see my King Either in his Person or his Coyne Yet contemplation is a thing That renders what I have not mine My King from me what Adamant can part Whom I doe weare engraven on my heart I am that Bird whom they combine Thus to deprive of Liberty But though they doe my Corps confine Yet maugre hate my soul is free Although Rebellion doe my body binde My King can onely captivate my minde On Ben Johnsons Play called Magnetick Lady Parturiunt montes nascetur ridiculus Mus. IS this your Loadstone then that must attract Applause and Laughter at each Scene Act Is this the child of thy bed-ridden wit And none but the Blackfriers foster it If to the Fortune thou hadst sent thy Lady ' Mongst Prentices and Applewives it may be Thy Rossy fool might have some sport begot With his strange habit and Indefinite not But when as Plush and Silke and all the wits Are called to see and censure as befits And if thy folly take not then perchance Must heare themselves styl'd gentle ignorance Foh how it stinkes what generall offence Gives thy prophanesse and grosse Impudence O how your friend Nat Butter ' gan to melt When as the poorenesse of the plot he smelt And Inigo with laughter there grew fat That there was nothing worth the laughing at And yet thou crazy wretch art confident Belching out full-mouth'd oaths with foul intent Calling us Fools and Rogues unletter'd men Poor narrow souls that canot judge of Ben. Yet which is worse of three shamefull foyles The Printers must be put to farther toyles Whereas indeed to vindicate thy fame Thou hadst better giv'n thy Pamphlet to the flame Oh what a strange prodigious yeare 't will be If this Play doe come forth in thirty three Let dooomsday rather come on New-years Eve And of your paper-plague the world bereave Which plague I feare worse then a Serjeants bit Worse then Infection or an Ague fit Worse then Astronomers denying lips Worse then three Suns a Comet or Ecclipse Or if thy learned Brother Allestre Who 's an Homer unto thee in Poetry Should tell of raine upon St. Swithins day And that should wash our harvest all away As for the Press if this Play must joyne to it Let Thomas Purfoot or John Trundle doe it In such dull Characters as for reliefes Of Fires and Wrecks we finde in begging briefs And in Cap paper let it printed be Indeed Brown paper is too good for thee But let it be so Apocryphall As not to dare to venture on a stall Unlesse of Drugsters Grocers Chandlers Cooks Victuallers Tobacco-men and such like Rooks. From Bucklersbury let it not be bar'd But think not of Duck-lane or Pauls yard Church But to advise thee Ben in this strict age A Brick-kil's better for thee then a Stage Thou better knowst a groundsill for to lay Then lay the plot or ground work of a Play And better canst direct to Cap a Chimney Then to converse with Clio or Polyhimnye Fall then to worke in thy old age agen Take up thy Trug and Trowell gentle Ben Let Playes alone or if thou needs wilt write And thrust thy feeble Muse into the light Let Lowen cease and Taylor scorne to touch The loathed Stage for thou hast made it such Ben Johnson's Answer to Dr. Gill. SHall the prosperity of a pardon still Secure thy rayling Rhymes infamous Gill At libelling shall no Star-Chamber Peers Pillory nor Whip nor want of Eares All which thou hast deservedly Nor degradation from the Ministry To be the Dionesse of thy Fathers Schoole Keep in thy barking wit thou bauling foole Thinking to stir me thou hast lost thy end I 'le laugh at thee poor wretched Tike goe send Thy blotant muse abroad and teach it rather A tune to drown the Ballads of thy Father For thou hast nought to cure his fame But tune and noyse the Ecchoes of his shame A Rogue by statute censured to be Whipt Cropt branded slit neck-stockt go you are stript Mr. Townsends Verses to Ben Johnsons in answer to an Abusive Copie crying down his Magnetick Lady IT cannot move thy friend firm Ben that he Whom the Star-Chamber censur'd times at thee I gratulate the method of thy fate That joyn'd thee next in malice to the State So
hire If your businesse be hasty I 'le lend you my Masty To carry you out of the mire 'T is a dainty fine cur You need not him spur If you his conditions but knew For hee 'l prance and hee 'l gape When he carries my Ape Much more when he carries you A Song 1. THere was an old Lad rode on an old pad Unto an old punk a woing He laid the old punk upon an old trunk Oh there was good old doing 2. There was an old maid scarce sweet as they said In a place I dare not make mention She in an old humour lay with a Perfumer Oh there was a sweet invention 3. The Punk and the Maid they swear they said That Marriage was servillity If Marry you must for changing of Lust Oh well fare a trick of nullity 4. There was a mad man did study to frame a Device to draw up a prespuce She drew up so narrow a Car might go through Oh there was a slender sluce 5. Her Earle did appoint her she said such a Jointhre As was of no validity Above twise in a night he did her no right Oh there was a strange frigidity 6. But when as her Earle had another girle His wimble did pierce her flanke His Nag prov'd able by changing of stable O there was a quod ad hanc 7. This dame was inspected by fraud interjected A maid of more perfection Whom the Midwives did handle while the K nt held the candle Oh there was a clear inspection 8. Now as forraign writers cry out of their miters That allow this for a virginity And talke of Election and waul of Election Oh there was a sound Divinity 9. There was a young Lord assumed on his word That he would be a Parliament maker But see how things alter he assumed a halter Oh there was an undertaker 10. He had a sweet friend which he did commend To the keeping of sweet Sir Jarvis They gave him a Clister made his Belly to blister Oh there was a sweet piece of service 11. This friend he denied and would not abide A Marriage that so would shame us Between the sweet Matron this grave patron Oh patron of Ignoramus 12. Now Weston and Horn and Turner doe turne And say that this plot was fraude These may say their pleasure some thinke hard measure Oh Knaves and Punks and Bawds A Song To the Tune of Packingtons Pound 1. MY Masters and friends and good people draw near And look to your Purses for that I doe say And though little money in them you doe wear It cost more to get than to lose in a day You oft have been told Both the young and the old And bidden beware of the Cutpurse so bold Then if you take heed not free me from this curse VVho both give you warning for and the Cutpurse Youth youth thou hadst better been starv'd by thy Nurse Then live to be hanged for cutting a purse 2. It hath been upbraided to men of my Trade That oft-times we are the cause of this crime Alack and for pitty why should it be said As if they regarded or places or time Examples have been Of some that were seen In Westminster Hall yea the Pleaders between Then why should the Judges be free from this curse More then my poor selfe for cutting the purse Youth youth c. 3. At Worcester 't is known well and even i'th'Jayl A Kt. of good worth did there shew his face Against the fraile sinner in rage for to raile And lost ipso facte his purse in the place Nay ev'n from the seat Of Judgement so great A Judge there did lose a faire Purse of Velvet O Lord for thy mercy how wicked or worse Are those that so venter their necks for a Purse I Youth youth c. 4. At Playes and at Sermons and at the Sessions 'T is daily their practice such booty to make Yea under the Gallowes at Executions They stick not they stare about Purses to take Nay one without Grace At a better place At Court and in Christmas before the Kings face Alack then for pitty must I bear the curse That onely belong to the cunning Cut-purse Youth youth c. 5. But O you vile Nation of Cutpurses all Relent and repent and amend and be sound And know that you ought not by honest menâ— fall To advance your owne fortunes to dye above ground And though you goe gay In Silkes as you may It is not the highway to Heaven as they say Repent then repent you for better for worse And kisse not the Gallowes for cutting a Purse Youth youth thou hadst better been sterv'd by thy nurse Then live to be hanged for cutting a purse To the Tune of I waile in woe I plunge in paine OR LABANDOLA shot Verse 1. IN Cheapside famous for Gold and Plate Quicksilver I did dwell of late I had a Master good and kinde That would have wrought me to his minde He bade me still work upon that But alas I wrought I knew not what He was a Touch stone black but true And told me still what would ensue Yet woe is me I would not learne I saw alas but could not discerne Verse 2. I cast my Coat and Cap away I went in Silkes and Sattins gay False mettall of good manners I Did daily Coyne unlawfully I scorn'd my Master being drunke I kept my Gelding and my Punk And with a Knight Sir Flash by name Who now is sorry for the same Verse 3. Still Eastward Hoe was all my word But Westward I had no regard Nor never thought what would come after As did alas his youngest Daughter At last the black Oxe trod on my foot I saw then what belong'd unto 't Now cry I Touch-stone touch me still And make me current by thy skill Verse 4. O Manington thy stories show Thou cut'st a Horst head off at a blow But I confesse I have not the force For to cut off the head of a Horse Yet I desire this grace to win That I may cut off the Horse head of sin And leave his body in the dust Of sinnes high way and bogges of lust Whereby I may take vertues purse And live with her for better for worse Verse 5. Farewell Cheapside farewell sweet Trade Of Goldsmiths all that never shall fade Farewell deare fellow-prentices all And be you warned by my fall Shun Usurers bonds and Dice and Drabs Avoid them as you would French fcabs Seek not to goe beyond your teacher And cut your thongs unto your leather So shall you thrive by little and little Scape Tyborne Counters and the Spittle A Song 1. LAdyes here I doe present you With a dainty dish of fruit The first it was a Poplin peare 'T was all the fruit the tree did beare You need not pare it any whit But put it all in at a bit And being let a while to lye 'T will melt 't will melt t will melt most pleasantly 2. The next
in order you shall have A rich Potata and a brave Which being laid unto the fire God Cupid kindels to desire For when 't is baste with little cost 'T will baste it selfe when it is rost It needs no Sugar nor no Spice 'T will please a stomach nere so nice 'T will make a Maid at midnight cry It comes it comes it comes it comes most pleasantly 3. The next by lot as doth befall Is two handfuls of Roundsefalls Which Priamus the garden God Made Venus eate within the God You must not prune too much at first For if you doe teares out will burst And being let a while to lye 'T will drop 't will drop 't will drop 't will drop most prettily 4. The best of things in all the land You shall have Mars his onely wand Protecting of that pretty flower Which comes and goes in halfe an houre The flowers of Vertue that doe grow Because they 'l please all women so But when Mars drawes back his wand It lyes it lyes it lyes and cries and cannot stand Vpon the burning of a Petty School WHat heat of learning kindled your desire You cursed sons to set your house on fire What love of honour in your brests did turn Those sparks of fury into flames to burn Or was 't some higher cause were the hot gods Phoebus Vulcan cold friends now at ods What er'e the Cause was surely ill was th' intent When all the Muses justly may lament But above all for names sake Polyhymy Bewails the downfal of that learned Chimny Where you might see without or wit or sense Lay the sad ashes of an Accidence What numbers here of Nowns to wrack did go As Domus Liber and as many moe In woful case no sexe the flames did spare Each gender in this losse had common share There might you see the Ruful declinations Of 15 Pronouns and 4 Conjugations Some Gerunds Die but some Do overcome strook dumb And some with heat and smoak are quite Supines lay gasping upwards void of fences The moods were mad to see imperfect tences Adverbs of place threw down their lofty stories As ubi ibi illic intus foris Conjugations to disjoyn as you would wonder Nor coupling scarce but it was burnt asunder The Praepositions know not where to be Each Interjection cry'd Heu I woe is me For the due joyning of the things again A Neighbour call'd qui mihi comes amain Else sure the fire had into flames so turnd Gods Men Months Rivers Winds and all had burn'd Now'gan the flames to Heteroclites to number And poor supellex lost his plural number Of verbs scarce had escaped one of twenty Had there not been by chance As in presenti T. R. Vpon the fall of Wisbech Bridge HElpe helpe you undertakers all Whose purses are the stronger Our bridge the falling-sicknesse hath For it can stand no longer And come you cruel Watermen And lend your help to 'th town ' Its you I doubt that shot the bridge And so have thrown it down What was the cause of this mischance There is a great confusion I saw by the water that he was Of a Crazy constitution Some say the enlarging of the streames Strook up the bridges heels It was to much strong water sure That made him drunk and reale And some do say he fell because His feet had no good landing I rather think the block head fell For want of understanding Although our Country suffer losse And at this downfal grudges It was the upstart-sluce that put Our aged bridge to 's Crutches The Lords will have it built again Much longer then the other Introth I think it will be long Ere we have such another But who shall build this stately peice There 's no man can suppose The Dutch man doubts the Lords do mean To make a bridge of 's noses And some doe say that Master Day Will give to it ten pound But he reply'd by 〈◊〉 they lyed He had rather see them drown'd But let not Wisbech be dismaid Nor at this losse complain For though our bridge a Bankrupt be We 'll set him up Again T. R. Vpon the fall of the Miter in Cambridge LAment Lament you schollers all Each wear his blackest gowne The Miter that upheld your wits Is now it selfe fallen down The dismal fire on London bridge Can move no heart of mine For that but ore the water stood But this stood ore the Wine It needs must melt each Chirstians heart That this sad newes but hears To see how the poor hogs heads wept Good Sack and Claret teares The zealous students of that place Change of Religion fear That this mischance may soon bring in The Heresie of Beer Vnhappy Miter I would know The cause of thy sad hap Was it for making leggs to low To Pembrokes Cardinals cap Then know thy self cringe no more Since Popery went down That cap should vaile to thee for now The Miter's next the Crown Or was 't because our company Did not frequent the Cell As we were wont to drown these cares Thou fox'd thy self and fell No sure the Devil was adry And caus'd this fatal blow T was he that made this Celler sink That he might drink below And some do say the Devil did it Cause he would drink up all I rather think the Pope was drunk And let his Miter fall Poor Commoners to your great disgrace Your want of skill acknowledge To let a Tavern fall that stood o th walls of your own Colledge Rose now withers Falcon moults White Sam enjoyes his wishes The Dolphin now must cast his Crown Wine was not made for fishes This sign a Tavern best becomes To shew who loves it best The Miter is the onely signe For 't is the Schollers Crest Thou Sam drink Sack and cheer thy selfe Be not dismai'd at all For we will drink it up again Though we do catch the fall Wee l be thy workmen day and night In spite of Bug bear Proctors We drank like Freshmen all before But now wee 'll drink like Doctors T. R. A match at Cock-fighting GOe you same Gallants you that have the name And would accounted be cocks of the game That have brave spurs to shew for 't and can crow And count al dunghil breed that cannot shew vice Such painted plumes as yours that think no Coy cock-like lust to tread your cockatrice you be Though Peacocks Woodkocks Weathercoks If y'aer no fighting cocks y' are not for me I of two feathered combatants will write He that to 'th life means to express their fight Must make his Ink their blood which they did spill And from his dying wings borrow his quill No sooner was the doubtful people set The match's made and all that would had bet But straight the skilful Judges of the play Bring forth their sharpe-heeld warriours and they Were both in linnen bags as if 't was meet Before their day to have had their winding sheet With that 'i th pitt they 're
a cleer night nor could I get To satisfie poor nature one small bit It would have turn'd the stomack of a cook With griefe to see how piteous I did look The little animals did skip and trice About my musty Cell yelped mice Alas thought they will no one us befriend So much as with a Christ mas Candles end Well fare the Chandlers wife may she bear Each year a Chub we pray thee nature where The Midwife leapes to see about the house A Groaning-Cheese delivered of a mouse These in my Conscience if they could have spake Had sung the lamentations for my sake Though I deserv'd no love for for my part I could have eaten them with all my heart I wish'd my selfe a prisoner in the Tower For its alowance sake for halfe an hour A Judges tongue sopt in his greasy hand ' Had been the choicest morsel in the Land The picking of his teeth too had been rare But that so often lick'd with lyes they are A tender Courtier though scarce sound withal I could have swallowed up cloaths legs all But for a fear grant pumpt storme wind This roguish bit I 'de eat and had combinde His carcasle still swallowed whole the evil Sending his soule the back-way to the devil I do believe such was my hungers force I could have eaten my L. Maiors great horse Thus well nigh famish'd with conceit I lay Sriving to sleep and so forget the day But I no sooner halfe asleep could be But straight my entrails crok'd wakend me Silence quoth I you chimes of Christmasnoon And be content to fast with me till soone It may be we shall sup if not I le fill My belly with a dreame good guts be still But fortune unexpected to prevent Despaire aforded me a limbe of Lent Sure she had some strang reason in preferring Before all meats a reverent red Hering I 'm loath to tell thee plainely what it was For fear your mouth should water as you pass And wrong this harmelesse paper by its side Lay a neglected crust forth roughly dry'd That it had been sometime mistook by one That rub'd his bootes with 't for a pumystone Hard fare be witnesse heaven and my jawes That ak'd and bled most freely through the flawes The crust had made upon my tender gumes It scowr'd I thought 't was sand not white bread crumes This if you will beleeve a virtuous sinner Was my best fare for my last Christmas diner I wish not having known the like before I may fare better next or nere know more Sir since my muse can make no better shift My Christmas dinner be your next years gift Song I Prethee sweet heart grant me my desire For I 'm thrown as the old Proverb goes Out of the frying-pan into the fire And there is none that will pitty my woes Then hang or drown'd thy selfe my muse For there is not a T. to chuse Most maides prove coy of late though they seem holyer Yet I beleeve they are all of a kinde Like will to like quoth the Devil to the Collier They will prove true when the devil is blind Let no man yeild to their desire For the burnt childe still dreads the fire What though my love as white as a Dove is Yet you would say if you knew all within That shitten come shites the beginning of Love is And for her favour I care not a pin No love of mine she ere shall be Sirreverence of your company Though her disdainfulnesse my heart hath cloven Yet I am of so stately a minde Nere to creep into her arse to bake in her oven 'T is an old Proverbe that cat will to kinde No I will say untill I die Farewel and be hanged that 's twice god buy Alas no rejoycing or comfort I can take In her that regards not the worth of a lover A T. is as good for a sow as a pancake Swallow this Gudging I le fish for another She nought regards my aking heart Tell a Mare a tale and she 'l let a fart I am as sure as my shooes are made of leather Without good advice or fortunate helpes We two shall never set our horses together This is so like a Beare that is rob'd of her whelps Therefore of me it shall nere be said I have brought an old house upon my head Fall back fall edge I never will bounded be To make a match with tag rag or longtale Best is best cheap if I misse not the naile Shall I toile gratis in their durt First they shall do as doth my shâ—rte Solicitation to a married Woman THou dost deny me cause thou art a wife Know she that 's married lives a single life That loves but one abhor the nuptial curse Ty'd thee to him for better and for worse Variety delights the active blood And women the more comon the more good As all goods are their 's no Adultery And marriage is the worst monopoly The learned Roman Clergy admits none Of theirs to marry they love all not one And every Nun can teach you t is as meet To chang your bed-fellow as smock or sheet Say would you be content onely to eat Mutton or beefe and taft no other meat It would grow loathsome to you I know You have two pallets and the best below Tom of Bedlam FRom forth the Elizian feilds A place of restlesse soules Mad Maudlin is come to seek her naked Tom Hells fury she controules The damned laugh to see her Grim Pluto scolds and frets Caren is glad to see poor Maudlin mad And away his boate he gets Through the Earth through the Sea through unknown iles Through the lofty skies Have I sought with sobs and cryes For my hungry mad Tom and my naked sad Tom Yet I know not whether he lives or dies My plaints makes Satyrs civil The Nimphs forget their singing The Fairies have left their gambal and their theft The plants and the trees their springing Mighty Leviathan took a consumption Triton broke his organ Neptune despis'd the Ocean Flouds did leave their flowing Churlish winds their blowing And all to see poor Maudlins action The Torrid Zone left burning The deities stood a striving Dispised Jove from Juno took a glove And strooke down Pan from whistling Mars for feare lay couching Apolloes Cap was fire'd Poor Charles his waine was thrown into the maâ—n The nimble Post lay tir'd Saturn Damas Vulcan Venus All lay husht and drunk Hells fire through heaven was rim Fates and men remorslesse hated our greif horness And yet not one could tell of Tom. Now whether shall I wander Or whether shall I flie The heavens do weep the earth the aire the deepe Are wearied with my cry Let me up and steal the Trumpet That summons all to doome At one poor blast the Elements shall cast All creatures from her wombe Dyon with his Heptune Death with destruction Stormy clouds and weather Shall call all soules together Against I
parch'd Matron Sweare to the Church they owe. These if I can preach pray too on a sudden And confute the Pope at adventures without studying Then ten pounds a year beside a sunday pudding Alas c. All the Arts I have skill in Divine and humane Are not worth a shilling When the women heare me They do but jeere me And say I am profane Once I remember I preached with a weaver I quoted Austine he quoted Dod Cleaver I nothing got he got a cloake and beaver Alas c. Ships ships ships I discover Crossing the maine Shall I in and over Turne Jew or Atheist Turke or Papist To Geneva or Amsterdame Bishopricks are voiding Scotland shall I thither Or follow Windebank or Finch to see if either Do want a Priest to shrieve them O no t is blustring weather Alas c. Ho Ho Ho I have hit it Peace goodman foole Thou hast a trade will fit it Draw thy Indenture Be bound at adventure An aprentise to a free-schoole There thou mayst command by William Lillys Charter Their thou mayst whip strip hang and draw and quarter And commit to the red rod both Tom and Will and Arthur I I t is thither thither will I goe The Townsmen's Petition to the King that Cambridge might be made a City NOw Scholers looke unto it For you will all be undone For the last weeke you know it The Townsmen rid to London The Maior if that he thrives Ha's promis'd on his word The King a paire of knives If he 'l grant him a sword That he may put the Beadles down And walke in worship here And kill all Schollers in the Town That thus do domineere And then unto the Court They do themselves repaire To make the King some sport And all his Nobles there He down upon his knee Both he and they together A sword he cryes good King give me That I may cut a feather There 's none at all I have at home Will fit my hand I sweare But one of yours will best become A sword to domineere These schollers keep such reaks As makes us all afraid For if to them a Townsman speake They will pull off his beard But if your Grace such licence gives Then let us all be dead If each of us had not as lieve He should pull of his head They call us silly Dunkirks too We know not why nor where All this they do and more then this Cause they will domineere A speech if I do make That has much learning im't A scholler comes and takes't And sets it out in print We dare not touch them for our lives Good King have pitty on us For first they play upon our wives And then make Songs upon us Would we had power to put And turne on them the jeere Then we 'd do the best we could But we would domineere They stand much on their wit We know not what it is But surely had we like it We had got some ere this But since it will no better be we are constrain'd to frame Petitions to your Majesty These witty ones to tame A sword would seare them all I say And put them in great feare A sword therefore good King we pray That we may domineere Which if your Grace permits We 'l make them look about'um But yet they are such pleasant wits We cannot live without'um They have such pretty arguments To run upon our score They say faire words good intents Are worth twice as much more And that a Clown is highly grac'd To sit a scholler neer And thus we are like fooles out fac'd And they do domineere Now if you will renew To us your Graces Charter We 'l give a ribbond blew To some Knight of the Garter A cap also we want And maintenance much more And yet these schollers brag vaunt As if they had good store But not a peny we can see Save once in twice seven yeare They say it is no policy Dunkerks should domineere Now reason reason cryes alas Good Lordlings mark it well A scholler told me that it was A perfect paralell There case and ours so equal stands As in a way-scale true A pound of Candles in each hand Will neither higher shew Then prethee listen to my speech As thou shalt after heare And then I doubt it not my Liege But we shall domineere Vice-chancellours they have And we have Maiors wise With Proctours and with Taskers grave Our Baliffes we may seize Their silver staves keep much adoe Much more our silver Maces And so methinks our Sergeants too Their Beadle-squires out faces And if we had a sword I thinke Along the street to beare T' would make the proudest of 'em shrink And we should domineere They have Patrons of Nobility And we have our pertakers They 'ave Doctors of Divinity And we our basket-makers Their heads our Brethren deare Their Fellowes our housholders Shall match them we think to bear Them down by head and shoulders A Sword therefore good King we pray That we may â—…p them there Since every dog must have his day Let us once domineere When they had made the King to laugh And see one kiss his hand Then little mirth they make as if His minde they understand Avoid the roome an Usher cryes The King would private sup And so they al came down like fools As they before went up They cry'd God blesse his Majesty And then no doubt they sweare They 'le have the Town made a City And there to domineere But wot you what the King did think And what his meaning was I vow unto you by this drinke A rare device he has His Majesty has pen'd it That they 'le be ne're the better And so he meanes to send it All in a Latin letter Which when it comes for to be read It plainly will appeare The Townsmen they must hang the head And the schollers must domineere The draining of the Fennes THe up-land people are full of thoughts And do despaire of after-raine Now the sun is robb'd of his mornings draughts They 're afraid they shall never have shower againe Then apace apace drink drink deep drink deep Whilst t is to be had lets the liquor ply The drainers are up and a coile they keep And threaten to draine the Kingdome dry Our smaller rivers are now dry land The eles are turn'd to serpents there And if old father Thames play not the man Then farewel to all good English beere Then apace apace drink c. The Dutchman hath a thirsty soul Our Cellars are subject to his call Let every man then lay hold on his boul T is pitty the German-Sea should have al. Then apace apace drink c. Our new Philosophers rob us of fire And by reason do strive to maintaine that theft And now that the water begins to retire VVe shall shortly have never an Element left Then apace apace drink c. VVhy should we stay here then and perish with thirst