January 17th, 1659.—From the King’s Ballads, British Museum.
MAKE room for an honest red-coat
(And that you’ll say’s a wonder),
The gun and the blade
Are the tools, and his trade
Is, for _pay_, to _kill_ and _plunder_.
Then away with the laws,
And the “Good old Cause;”
Ne’er talk of the Rump or the Charter;
’Tis the cash does the feat,
All the rest’s but a cheat,
Without _that_ there’s no faith nor quarter.
’Tis the mark of our coin “_God with us_,”
And the grace of the Lord goes along with’t.
When the _Georges_ are flown
Then the Cause goes down,
For the Lord has departed from it.
Then away, etc.
For Rome, or for Geneva,
For the table or the altar,
This spawn of a vote,
He cares not a groat—
For the _pence_ he’s your dog in a halter,
Then away, etc.
Tho’ the name of King or Bishop
To nostrils pure may be loathsome,
Yet many there are
That agree with the May’r,
That their lands are wondrous toothsome.
Then away, etc.
When our masters are poor we leave ’em,
’Tis the Golden Calf we bow to;
We kill and we slay
Not for conscience, but pay;
Give us _that_, we’ll fight for you too.
Then away, etc.
’Twas _that_ first turn’d the King out;
The Lords next; then the Commons:
’Twas that kept up Noll,
Till the Devil fetch’d his soul,
And then it set the _Rump_ on’s.
Then away, etc.
Drunken Dick was a lame Protector,
And Fleetwood a back-slider;
These we served as the rest,
But the City’s the beast
That will never cast her rider.
Then away, etc.
When the Mayor holds the stirrup
And the Shrieves cry, God save your honours;
Then ’tis but a jump
And up goes the Rump,
That will spur to the Devil upon us.
Then away, etc.
And now for fling at your thimbles,
Your bodkins, rings, and whistles;
In truck for your toys
We’ll fit you with boys
(’Tis the doctrine of Hugh’s _Epistles_).
Then away, etc.
When your plate is gone, and your jewels,
You must be next entreated
To part with your bags,
And to strip you to rags,
And yet not think you’re cheated.
Then away, etc.
The truth is, the town deserves it,
’Tis a brainless, heartless monster:
At a club they may bawl,
Or declare at their hall,
And yet at a push not one stir.
Then away, etc.
Sir Arthur vow’d he’ll treat ’em
Far worse than the men of Chester;
He’s bold now they’re cow’d,
But he was nothing so loud
When he lay in the ditch at Lester.
Then away, etc.
The Lord has left John Lambert,
And the spirit, Feak’s anointed;
But why, O Lord,
Hast thou sheath’d thy sword?
Lo! thy saints are disappointed.
Then away, etc.
Though Sir Henry be departed,
Sir John makes good the place now;
And to help out the work
Of the glorious Kirk,
Our brethren march apace too.
Then away, etc.
Whilst divines and statesmen wrangle,
Let the Rump-ridden nation bite on’t;
There are none but we
That are sure to go free,
For the soldier’s still in the right on’t.
Then away, etc.
If our masters won’t supply us
With money, food, and clothing,
Let the State look to’t,
We’ll find one that will do’t,
Let him live—we will not damn.
Then away, etc.
SAINT GEORGE AND THE DRAGON,
ANGLICE MERCURIUS POETICUS.
“The following ballad,” says Mr Wright in the Political Ballads of the
Commonwealth, published for the Percy Society, “was written on the
occasion of the overthrow of the Rump by Monck. He arrived in London on
the third of February, and professed himself a determined supporter of
the party then uppermost. On the ninth and tenth he executed their
orders against the city; but suddenly on the eleventh he joined the city
and the Presbyterian party, and demanded the readmission of the members
who were secluded formerly from the Long Parliament. This measure put an
end to the reign of the Rump, and immediately afterwards the Parliament
dissolved itself, and a new one was called.—(February 28th, 1659.)”—All
the notes to this Ballad are from the pen of Mr Wright.
To the tune of “The Old Courtier of the Queen’s,” etc.
NEWS! news! here’s the occurrences and a new Mercurius,
A dialogue betwixt Haselrigg the baffled and Arthur the furious;
With Ireton’s {50} readings upon legitimate and spurious,
Proving that a saint may be the son of a whore, for the satisfaction
of the curious.
From a Rump insatiate as the sea,
Libera nos, Domine.
Here’s the true reason of the citie’s infatuation,
Ireton has made it drunk with the cup of abomination;
That is, the cup of the whore, after the Geneva Interpretation,
Which with the juyce of Titchburn’s grapes {51} must needs cause
intoxication.
From a Rump, etc.
Here’s the Whipper whipt by a friend to George, that whipp’d Jack,
{52} that whipp’d the breech,
That whipp’d the nation as long as it could stand over it—after which
It was itself re-jerk’d by the sage author of this speech:
“Methinks a Rump should go as well with a Scotch spur as with a
switch.”
From a Rump, etc.
This Rump hath many a rotten and unruly member;
“Give the generall the oath!” cries one (but his conscience being a
little tender);
“I’ll abjure you with a pestilence!” quoth George, “and make you
remember
The ’leaventh of February {53} longer than the fifth of November!”
From a Rump, etc.
With that, Monk leaves (in Rump assembled) the three estates,
But oh! how the citizens hugg’d him for breaking down their gates,
For tearing up their posts and chaynes, and for clapping up their
mates {54}
(When they saw that he brought them plasters for their broken pates).
From a Rump, etc.
In truth this ruffle put the town in great disorder,
Some knaves (in office) smiled, expecting ’twould go furder;
But at the last, “My life on’t! George is no Rumper,” said the
Recorder,
“For there never was either honest man or monk of that order.”
From a Rump, etc.
And so it proved; for, “Gentlemen,” says the general, “I’ll make you
amends;
Our greeting was a little untoward, but we’ll part friends;
A little time shall show you which way my design tends,
And that, besides the good of Church and State, I have no other ends.”
From a Rump, etc.
His Excellence had no sooner pass’d this declaration and promise,
But in steps Secretary Scot, the Rump’s man Thomas,
With Luke, their lame evangelist (the Devil keep ’um from us!) {55}
To shew Monk what precious members of Church and State the Bumm has.
From a Rump, etc.
And now comes the supplication of the members under the rod:
“Nay, my Lord!” cryes the brewer’s clerk; “good, my Lord, for the love
of God!
Consider yourself, us, and this poor nation, and that tyrant abroad;
Don’t leave us:”—but George gave him a shrugg instead of a nodd.
From a Rump, etc.
This mortal silence was followed with a most hideous noyse,
Of free Parliament bells and Rump-confounding boyes,
Crying, “Cut the rogues! singe their tayles!” when, with a low voyce,
“Fire and sword! by this light,” cryes Tom, “Lets look to our toyes!”
From a Rump, etc.
Never were wretched members in so sad a plight;
Some were broyl’d, some toasted, others burnt outright; {56}
Nay against Rumps so pittylesse was their rage and spite,
That not a citizen would kisse his wife that night.
From a Rump, etc.
By this time death and hell appear’d in the ghastly looks
Of Scot and Robinson (those legislative rooks);
And it must needs put the Rump most damnably off the hooks
To see that when God has sent meat the Devil should send cooks.
From a Rump, etc.
But Providence, their old friend, brought these saints off at last,
And through the pikes and the flames undismember’d they past,
Although (God wet) with many struglings and much hast,—
For, members, or no members, was but a measuring cast.
From a Rump, etc.
Being come to Whitehall, there’s the dismal mone,
“Let Monk be damn’d!” cries Arthur in a terrible tone {57}—
“That traytor, and those cuckoldy rogues that set him on!”
(But tho’ the knight spits blood, ’tis observed that he draws none.)
From a Rump, etc.
“The plague bawle you!” cries Harry Martin, “you have brought us to
this condition, {58}
You must be canting and be plagued, with your Barebones petition, {59}
And take in that bull-headed, splay-footed member of the circumcision,
That bacon-faced Jew, Corbet, {60} that son of perdition!”
From a Rump, etc.
Then in steps driv’ling Mounson to take up the squabble,
That lord which first taught the use of the woodden dagger and ladle:
{61}
He that out-does Jack Pudding {62} at a custard or a caudle,
And were the best foole in Europe but that he wants a bauble.
From a Rump, etc.
More was said to little purpose,—the next news is, a declaration
From the Rump, for a free state according to the covenant of the
nation,
And a free Parliament under oath and qualification,
Where none shall be elect but members of reprobation.
From a Rump, &c.
Here’s the tail firk’d, a piece acted lately with great applause,
With a plea for the prerogative breech and the Good old Cause,
Proving that Rumps and members are antienter than laws,
And that a bumme divided is never the worse for the flawes.
From a Rump, etc.
But all things have their period and fate,
An Act of Parliament dissolves a Rump of state,
Members grow weak, and tayles themselves run out of date,
And yet thou shalt not dye (dear breech), thy fame I’ll celebrate.
From a Rump, etc.
Here lies a pack of saints that did their souls and country sell
For dirt, the Devil was their good lord, him they served well;
By his advice they stood and acted, and by his president they fell
(Like Lucifer), making but one step betwixt heaven and hell.
From a Rump insatiate as the sea
Liberasti nos, Domine.