The New Courtier:
The Tune is, Cloris, since thou art fled away, etc.
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UPon the Change where Merchants meet
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Twixt Cornhill and Thredneedle-street:
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Where Wits of every size is hurld,
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To treat of all things in the World:
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I saw a folded Paper fall,
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And upon it, these words were writ,
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Have at all.
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Thought I, if Have at All it be,
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For ought I know, tis have at Me:
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And (if the consequence be true)
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It may as well be Have at You:
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Then listen pray to what I shall,
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In brief declare, whats written there:
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Have at all.
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SONG.
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I Am a Courtier, who in sport,
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Do come from the Utopian Court,
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To whisper softly in your Ear,
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How high we are, and what we were:
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To tell you all would be too much,
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But here and there a little touch,
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Have at all.
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I was not many years agoe,
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In taterd trim from top to toe:
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But now my ruind Robes are burnd,
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My Rags are all to Ribbons turnd:
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My Patches into Peeces fall,
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I cogg a Dye, Swagger and Lye,
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Have at all.
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Upon my Pantelonian Pate
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I wear a Milleners Estate:
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But when he Duns me at the Court,
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I shew him a Protection fort:
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Whilst he doth to Protesting fall,
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I cry, Dam me, Sir, you lye,
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Have at all.
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Since Venus shavd off my Hair,
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A powdred Perewig I wear,
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Which brings me in the Golden Girls,
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Game-Royal for Dukes, Lords and Earls:
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When Love doth for a cooler call,
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My fancy drives, at maids & wives,
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Have at all.
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The Second Part, to the same Tune.
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MY Lodgings never are at quiet,
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Another Duns me for my Diet,
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I had of him in Fifty three,
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Which I forgot, so did not he:
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I call him saucy Fellow, sirrah,
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And draw my Sword to run him thorough
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Have at all.
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Yet once a Friend that savd my Life,
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Who had a witty wanton wife,
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I did in (courtesie) requite,
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Made him a Cuckold, and a Knight:
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Which makes him mount like Tennis ball,
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Whilst she & I, together cry:
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Have at all.
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But yet these Citts are subtile Slaves,
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Most of them Wits, and knowing Knaves;
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We get their Children, and they do,
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From us get Lands, and Lordships too:
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And tis most fit in those affairs
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The Lands should go to the right hairs
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Have at all.
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A Souldier I directly hate:
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A Cavelier once broke my Pate
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With Cane in hand he overcome me
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And took away my Mistress from me:
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For I confess I love a Wench
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Be she English, Irish, Dutch, or French
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Have at all.
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A Souldiers life is not like mine
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I will be Plump when he shall Pine?
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My Projects carry stronger force
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Then all their Armed Foot and Horse:
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What though his morter-peeces roar
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My Chimney-peeces shall do more:
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Have at all.
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Thus I have given you in short
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A Courtier of Utopian Court.
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I Write not of Religion,
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For (to tell truly) we have none.
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If any me to Question call,
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With pen or Sword, Hab Nabs the Word
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Have at all.
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