PRATTLE YOUR PLEASURE UNDER THE ROSE.
From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum.
There is an old proverb which all the world knows,
Anything may be spoke, if ’t be under the rose:
Then now let us speak, whilst we are in the hint,
Of the state of the land, and th’ enormities in’t.
Under the rose be it spoke, there is a number of knaves,
More than ever were known in a State before;
But I hope that their mischiefs have digg’d their own graves,
And we’ll never trust knaves for their sakes any more.
Under the rose be it spoken, the city’s an ass
So long to the public to let their gold run,
To keep the King out; but ’tis now come to pass,
I am sure they will lose, whosoever has won.
Under the rose be it spoken, there’s a company of men,
Trainbands they are called—a plague confound ’em:—
And when they are waiting at Westminster Hall,
May their wives be beguiled and begat with child all!
Under the rose be it spoken, there’s a damn’d committee
Sits in hell (Goldsmiths’ Hall), in the midst of the city,
Only to sequester the poor Cavaliers—
The devil take their souls, and the hangman their ears.
Under the rose be it spoken, if you do not repent
Of that horrible sin, your pure Parliament,
Pray stay till Sir Thomas doth bring in the King,
Then Derrick [32] may chance have ’em all in a string.
Under the rose be it spoken, let the synod now leave
To wrest the whole Scripture, how souls to deceive;
For all they have spoken or taught will ne’er save ’em,
Unless they will leave that fault, hell’s sure to have ’em!
THE DOMINION OF THE SWORD.
A song made in the Rebellion.
From the Loyal Garland, 1686.
To the tune of “Love lies a bleeding.”
Lay by your pleading,
Law lies a bleeding;
Burn all your studies down, and
Throw away your reading.
Small pow’r the word has,
And can afford us
Not half so much privilege as
The sword does.
It fosters your masters,
It plaisters disasters,
It makes the servants quickly greater
Than their masters.
It venters, it enters,
It seeks and it centers,
It makes a’prentice free in spite
Of his indentures.
It talks of small things,
But it sets up all things;
This masters money, though money
Masters all things.
It is not season
To talk of reason,
Nor call it loyalty, when the sword
Will have it treason.
It conquers the crown, too,
The grave and the gown, too,
First it sets up a presbyter, and
Then it pulls him down too.
This subtle disaster
Turns bonnet to beaver;
Down goes a bishop, sirs, and up
Starts a weaver.
This makes a layman
To preach and to pray, man;
And makes a lord of him that
Was but a drayman.
Far from the gulpit
Of Saxby’s pulpit,
This brought an Hebrew ironmonger
To the pulpit.
Such pitiful things be
More happy than kings be;
They get the upper hand of Thimblebee
And Slingsbee.
No gospel can guide it,
No law can decide it,
In Church or State, till the sword
Has sanctified it.
Down goes your law-tricks,
Far from the matricks,
Sprung up holy Hewson’s power,
And pull’d down St Patrick’s.
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!