Then, then, quaff it round,
No deceit in a brimmer is found;
Here’s no swearing:
Beer and ale makes you prate
Of the Church and the State,
Wanting other discourse worth the hearing.
This strumpet your muse is, to ballad or flatter,
Or rail, and your betters with froth to bespatter,
And your talk’s all dismals and gunpowder matter;
But we, while old sack does divinely inspire us,
Are active to do what our rulers require us,
And attempt such exploits as the world shall admire us.
AS CLOSE AS A GOOSE.
By Samuel Butler.—(A.D. 1657.) This ballad ridicules the tender of the Crown of England to Oliver Cromwell by Alderman Pack, M.P. for London.
As close as a goose
Sat the Parliament-house,
To hatch the royal gull;
After much fiddle-faddle
The egg proved addle,
And Oliver came forth Noll.
Yet old Queen Madge, [43]
Though things do not fadge,
Will serve to be queen of a May-pole;
Two Princes of Wales, [44]
For Whitsun-ales,
And her grace, Maid Marion Claypole. [45]
In a robe of cow hide
Sat yeasty Pride, [46]
With his dagger and his sling;
He was the pertinenst peer
Of all that were there,
T’ advise with such a king.
A great philosopher
Had a goose for his lover
That follow’d him day and night:
If it be a true story,
Or but an allegory,
It may be both ways right.
Strickland [47] and his son,
Both cast into one,
Were meant for a single baron;
But when they came to sit,
There was not wit
Enough in them both to serve for one.
Wherefore ’twas thought good
To add Honeywood,
But when they came to trial
Each one proved a fool,
Yet three knaves in the whole,
And that made up a pair-royal.