This and the following ballad, from the King's Pamphlets, British Museum, express the discontent of the Cavaliers at the ingrat.i.tude of King Charles to the old supporters of the fortunes of his family. - (March 15th, 1660.)

To the tune of "I tell thee, d.i.c.k."

Come, Jack, let's drink a pot of ale, And I shall tell thee such a tale Will make thine ears to ring; My coyne is spent, my time is lost, And I this only fruit can boast, That once I saw my King.

But this doth most afflict my mind: I went to Court in hope to find Some of my friends in place; And walking there, I had a sight Of all the crew, but, by this light!

I hardly knew one face.

'S'life! of so many n.o.ble sparkes, Who on their bodies bear the markes Of their integritie; And suffer'd ruine of estate, It was my d.a.m.n'd unhappy fate That I not one could see.

Not one, upon my life, among My old acquaintance all along At Truro and before; And I suppose the place can show As few of those whom thou didst know At Yorke or Marston-moore.

But truly there are swarmes of those Who lately were our chiefest foes, Of pantaloons and m.u.f.fes; Whilst the old rusty Cavaleer Retires, or dares not once appear, For want of coyne and cuffes.

When none of these I could descry, Who better far deserv'd then I, Calmely I did reflect; "Old services (by rule of State) Like almanacks grow out of date, - What then can I expect?"

Troth! in contempt of Fortune's frown, I'll get me fairly out of town, And in a cloyster pray; That since the starres are yet unkind To Royalists, the King may find More faithfull friends than they.

Ballad: An Echo To The Cavalier's Complaint

I marvel, d.i.c.k, that having been So long abroad, and having seen The world as thou hast done, Thou should'st acquaint mee with a tale As old as Nestor, and as stale As that of Priest and Nunne. (100)

Are we to learn what is a Court?

A pageant made for fortune's sport, Where merits scarce appear; For bashfull merit only dwells In camps, in villages, and cells; Alas! it dwells not there.

Desert is nice in its addresse, And merit ofttimes doth oppresse Beyond what guilt would do; But they are sure of their demands That come to Court with golden hands, And brazen faces, too.

The King, they say, doth still professe To give his party some redresse, And cherish honestie; But his good wishes prove in vain, Whose service with his servants' gain Not alwayes doth agree.

All princes (be they ne'er so wise) Are fain to see with others' eyes, But seldom hear at all; And courtiers find their interest In time to feather well their nest, Providing for their fall.

Our comfort doth on time depend, Things when they are at worst will mend; And let us but reflect On our condition th' other day, When none but tyrants bore the sway, What did we then expect?

Meanwhile a calm retreat is best, But discontent (if not supprest) Will breed disloyaltie; This is the constant note I sing, I have been faithful to the King, And so shall ever be.

London, printed for Robert Crofts, at the Crown, in Chancery Lane, 1661.

Ballad: A Relation

Of Ten grand infamous Traytors, who, for their horrid murder and detestable villany against our late soveraigne Lord King Charles the First, that ever blessed martyr, were arraigned, tryed, and executed in the moneth of October, 1660, which in perpetuity will be had in remembrance unto the world's end.

This is one of the Six Ballads of the Restoration found in a trunk, and sent by Sir W. C. Trevelyan to the British Museum. "No measure threw more disgrace on the Restoration," says Mr Wright, "than the prosecution of the regicides; and the heartless and sanguinary manner in which it was conducted tended more than any other circ.u.mstance to open the eyes of the people to the real character of the government to which they had been betrayed." Pepys observes on the 20th Oct., "A b.l.o.o.d.y week this and the last have been; there being ten hanged, drawn, and quartered."

The tune is "Come let us drinke, the time invites."

Hee that can impose a thing, And shew forth a reason For what was done against the King, From the palace to the prison; Let him here with me recite, For my pen is bent to write The horrid facts of treason.

Since there is no learned scribe Nor arithmaticion Ever able to decide The usurp'd base ambition, Which in truth I shall declare, Traytors here which lately were, Who wanted a phisitian.

For the grand disease that bred Nature could not weane it; From the foot unto the head, Was putrefacted treason in it; Doctors could no cure give, Which made the squire then beleeve That he must first begin it.

And the phisick did compose, Within a pound of reason; First to take away the cause, Then to purge away the treason, With a dosse of hemp made up, Wrought as thickly as a rope, And given them in due season.

The doctors did prescribe at last To give 'um this potation, A vomit or a single cast, Well deserved, in purgation; After that to lay them downe, And bleed a veine in every one, As traytors of the nation.

So when first the physicke wrought, The thirteenth of October, (101) The patient on a sledge was brought, Like a rebell and a rover, To the execution tree; Where with much dexterity Was gently turned over.

THE SECOND PART - To the same tune.

Monday was the fifteenth day, As Carew then did follow, (102) Of whom all men I thinke might say In tyranny did deeply wallow; Traytor proved unto the King, Which made him on the gallowes swing, And all the people hallow.

Tuesday, after Peters, Cooke, (103) Two notorious traytors, That brought our soveraigne to the blocke, For which were hang'd and cut in quarters; 'Twas Cooke which wrought the b.l.o.o.d.y thing To draw the charge against our King, That ever blessed martyr.

Next, on Wednesday, foure came, For murthur all imputed, There to answer for the same, Which in judgement were confuted.

Gregorie Clement, Jones, and Scot, And Scroop together, for a plot, (104) Likewise were executed.

Thursday past, and Friday then, To end the full conclusion, And make the traytors just up ten, That day were brought to execution, Hacker and proud Axtell he, (105) At Tyburne for their treachery Received their absolution.

Being against the King and States, The Commons all condemn'd 'um, And their quarters on the gates Hangeth for a memorandum 'Twixt the heavens and the earth; Traytors are so little worth, To dust and smoake wee'l send 'um.

Let now October warning make To b.l.o.o.d.y-minded traytors, That never phisicke more they take, For in this moneth they lost their quarters; Being so against the King, Which to murther they did bring, The ever blessed martyr.

London, printed for Fr. Coles, T. Vere, M. Wright, and W.

Gilbertson.

Ballad: The Glory Of These Nations

Or, King and peoples happinesse. Being a brief relation of King Charles's royall progresse from Dover to London, how the Lord Generall and the Lord Mayor, with all the n.o.bility and gentry of the land, brought him thorow the famous city of London to his pallace at Westminster, the 29th of May last, being his Majesties birth-day, to the great comfort of his loyall subjects.

One of the six curious broadsides found by Sir W. C. Trevelyan in the lining of a trunk, and now in the British Museum.