The CAVALIER's Genius: Being a Proper New Ballad.
To the Tune of, bodikins chill work no more, and forty other good Tunes.
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CH'ill tell thee Wat, ch'ave bin at Court,
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Where I ch'ave seen most monstrous sport,
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like to break my Guts ;
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For it did make me laugh full sore,
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Che thought I ne'r should give o're ,
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better var than Nuts.
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But like the Parson of our Town,
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(Although cham call'd a very Clown)
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In order I'le proceed,
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To let thee know, there is Vorme in't,
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And many a very pretty hint,
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May do some good at need.
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When virst into the Court I came,
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A sight did make mine Eyne grow lame,
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Vor there I saw much people,
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Vamping upon the pitched Walk,
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With Chitter Chatter and much talk,
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Like Daws upon a Steeple.
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But as I star'd and gap't about
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To ken a v'rend amongst the Rout;
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Prethee think who I voune!
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Why faith and trigs I'le tell thee truly,
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Thou maist believe it to be no lie,
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the Biter of our Town.
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I mean the Mon cropt like a Freyer,
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That would not read the Common Preyer,
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Nor vorme unto the Church,
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Such as thou knowest God bless us all,
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Do gape for Reverend Bishops fall,
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And lie like Dogs at lurch.
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As soon as he did me espie,
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(For Rochet I had in mine Eye)
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He came and did salout me:
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With Sparrow Mouth and hanging Ears,
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And Countenance made up of Flears,
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I thought the Beast did flout me.
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He ask't me what I did make there,
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To come the Court about to stare,
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He vound it by my looks;
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Think what a twitter I was in,
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I thought a Courtier he had bin,
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And kin unto our Rooks.
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But taking heart a Grass I spake
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To him whose Neck was long as Snake,
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And eak his Ears also:
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Good Zur I hope it is no zin:
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I came to zee and to be zeen,
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And wou'd before I go.
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Why then quoth he pray understand,
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And mark the motion of my Hand,
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For here I do begin:
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And first these Walking Statues are
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Men quite undone by the late War,
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And brought so low for sin.
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Their constant Walk is in this place,
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With Ragged Coats and Meagre Face,
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To get imployment here;
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But faith quoth he they are mistaken,
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For by our selves the Vish is taken,
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And then he gan to flear.
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Why, Goodman Parson, then quoth I,
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(And then I drew to him full nigh)
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Pray what d'y call these men?
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Why then quoth he they're Cavaliers,
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That fain would get their old Arreers,
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(And then he fleer'd agen.)
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Why Mon (quoth I) me-thinks that you
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Their company should much eschew,
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Chave heard you do not love 'em;
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No, no, quoth he, although do spiren,
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Their discontents I strive to heighten,
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And hope one day to prove 'em.
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Why (Goodman Parson) then quoth I,
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This is not right most verely,
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You should to Peace afford:
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Indeed, quoth he, I hate the same,
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I love to see all in a flame,
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And Men fall by the Sword.
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It is the way to redeem the Cause,
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And set up Covenanting Laws,
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Destroy the King and People;
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To turn the Bishops out of doors,
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To bring in any (nay the Moors)
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And pluck down Church and Steeple.
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For leisure now to us is given
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To make our scores with these men even,
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We walk in Sheep's disguise:
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We neither Preach, nor Pray, nor Fight,
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But Plot as silent as the night,
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And turn up White o' th' Eyes.
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If that we chance to break a Law,
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We value it not worth a straw,
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Our Party is most daring:
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If that we're into Prison put,
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We neither want for Purse or Gut,
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The Sisters are not sparing.
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For Instance I will to thee tell
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What to a Brother late befell,
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For holding forth in sport:
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He was in Newgate put indeed,
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From thence releas'd with as much speed,
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And went and din'd at Court.
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If thou hast Mony to bestow,
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Let me but thy desires know,
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Much can be done by me:
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For Brethren I have plenty here,
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Who makes for me most excellent Cheer,
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As I will let thee see.
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At last I saw a Man come in,
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Me-thought he looked very thin,
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And he portended haste
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I ask'd him what this Man might be,
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Who seem'd as busie as a Bee,
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With Sword about his waste.
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That Man, quoth he, serv'd the late King,
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And acted many a gallant thing
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Against his Foes so fell;
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But now it seems that all is spent,
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And he doth stink like Fish in Lent,
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And cannot eat at Hell.
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Another presently I saw,
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That many to himself did draw,
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And eager was in's talk:
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Pray Zur, quo I, what is that Man
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With Papers many in his han,
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Who stately there doth stalk?
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Quoth he, he was a Man of late
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Of Wealth sufficient, and much State,
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But all was spent i'th'Wars;
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And now a Patent he hath got
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Old Shoos and Boots for to Transport,
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A Reward for all his Scars.
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Another then he shew'd to me,
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And bid me earnestly to see,
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And note him for a Wight;
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He told me 'twas a strong Projector,
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One that had serv'd the late Protector,
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But now was made a Knight.
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A pale-fac'd Fellow then came in,
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That look'd like one of our lean Kine,
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And stutter'd like a Prater:
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He told me that that zealous Trunk
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Did curse the coming in of Monk,
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For h[e] stood vor Sequestrator.
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But he [di]d tell me, he had got
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His feeding in a fatted Plot,
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And had no cause to grudge:
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And nimbly shifted had his Veil,
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And had abandoned the Tail,
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And now did serve a Judge.
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He told me then he could relate
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To me, of many in the State,
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That had crept into place;
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And that they were the Bretherns Men,
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That long'd to see the time as when
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Old Lenthal kept the Mace.
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And thus you see our Cause does thrive,
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And we are Men yet still alive,
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And swell in Court and City:
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And can on good occasion call
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Our Congregators to White-hall,
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And cut throats without pity.
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At length the Clock struck Twelve, and I
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Immediately the Men did spie
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Walking out of the Gate:
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(Quoth I) me-thinks these Men should eat
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At Court (if there be any Meat)
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For Cheeks me-thinks do bate.
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No, no, (quoth he) th'are well apaid,
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When they their Congies all have made
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Unto the ominous Dial,
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No Provender her's to be got,
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For English, Irish, or for Scot,
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Unless they pay th'Espial.
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And that's impossible to doe,
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When to four Feet they han't one Shoe,
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Or penny 'mongst them all:
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Let 'em go dine at Humphreys Table,
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And pick their Teeth (if they are able)
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No meat is at White-hall.
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Thinking my self as bad as they,
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That nothing had for meat to pay;
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I made my Country Scrape;
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With full intent to go from Court,
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But he to me did streight resort,
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And thus to me did Gape;
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Gee ho! (old Neighbour) pray come back,
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And drink with me a cup of Sack,
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And eat with me also:
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For though I'm from your Parish put,
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This House my Purse doth fill, and Gut;
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Sing Biters all arow.
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Immediately he led me in,
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And through his Chamber, like an Inn.
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Vor store of meat was there;
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Of Meat of all sorts, and of Vishes
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Well drest and laid in Zilvern dishes;
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digs 'twas Christmas Vare.
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After that he a Grace had seid
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As long as is from hence to Head-
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lebourgh's Church or Steeple:
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He bid us to sit down and eat
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With plenty of that excellent meat
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Prepared for Good's People.
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And I among the rest sat down
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To Table that was very roun,
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Well Vurnished with meat;
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With Needle-teeth, and Post-boys speed,
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We claw'd it all away indeed,
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Good God how we did eat!
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At length we paus'd a while, and then
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One of those Crop-ear'd silenc'd men
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Begun a health about;
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And 'twas unto the Brethren all,
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That for the Cause did lately fall,
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And now were turned out.
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Much more was going to be seid:
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But one amongst 'em jowl'd his head
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To them was going to say it;
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Hist, Brethren, hist, your mouth's up close,
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Though we won't talk under the Rose,
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With thinking let us pay it.
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The Cups flew merrily about
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Among the Zealous Prick-ear'd Rout,
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They star'd and glow'd like Bulls:
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If any were by drink o'rtaken,
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(I swear by the Head of Friar Bacon)
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They were all as drunk as Trulls.
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When I perceiv'd their Zeal at height,
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And they began to utter spight-
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-ful things against the King:
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I bid their Saintships all adieu,
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And trotted from that Rebel Crew,
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And out of Gates did Ding.
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And walking down the Street call'd Kings,
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From Chandlers shop I spi'd some Vrends
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That Stout and Loyal was:
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Before them Herrings stood and Ale,
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And Loaf half-penny worth full pale,
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They fed like Cow at Grass.
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Good-natur'd men! they call'd me in
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Thinking that belly-starv'd I'd been,
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And spake to me to eat;
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I told them Presbyterian Vare
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Was vat, and Commons there were bare,
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I came from better meat.
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Good souls! they griev'd my very heart,
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And made my very entrails smart,
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To see them brought so low;
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With them I spent a round old Shilling,
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They did receive it (though unwilling)
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And from them streight did go.
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But now to you Presbyting Johns,
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With Bloody Souls, and Lilly Hands,
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Chill never love you more;
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Vor I do think the Pope's good Grace,
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In all that's good, of you takes place,
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Although you call him Whore.
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Vor he refus'd to fight 'gainst King,
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When Pulpits did Rebellion Ring,
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Though offer'd Tolleration:
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And you, 'tis known, with purer zeal,
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Do hate the King and Common-weal,
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Unless of your own fashion.
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Now Wat, I think chave told thee All
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That in my Journey did befall,
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Chave nothing more to say.
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But pray to bless the King and Queen,
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And that in England may be seen
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A Princely Bonny Boy.
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