The Cavaliers Complaint.
To the tune of,
I'le tell thee Dick. etc.
This is the Constant note I'le sing,
I have been Faithfull to the KING,
And so, shall Live and Dye.
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COme Jack, let's drinke a Pot of Ale,
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And I shall tell thee such a Tale,
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Will make thine Eares to ring:
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My Coyne is spent, my Time is lost,
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And I this only Fruit can boast,
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That once I saw my King.
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I'le tell thee 'Dick etc.
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But this doth most afflict my Mind;
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I went to Court, in hope to find
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Some of my Friends in place:
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And walking there, I had a sight
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Of all the Crew, but by this light
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I hardly knew one Face.
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Ile tell thee Dick etc.
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S'life, of so many Noble Sparkes,
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Who on their Bodies, beare the markes
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Of their Integrity:
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And suffred ruine of Estate,
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It was my base unhappy Fate,
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That I not one could see.
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Ile tell thee Dick etc.
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Not one, upon my Life among
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My old acquaintance all along,
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At Truro, and before:
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And I suppose, the Place can shew,
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As few of those, whom thou didst know
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At Yorke, or Marston Moore.
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Ile tell thee Dick etc.
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But truly, there are Swarmes of those,
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Whose Chins are beardlesse, yet their Hose
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And backsides, still weare Muffes:
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Whil'st the old rusty Cavaliers,
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Retires, or dares not once Appeare
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For want of Coyne, and Cuffes.
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Ile tell thee Dick etc.
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When none of those, I could descry,
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Who better farre deserv'd, then I,
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I calmely did reflect:
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Old Servants by rule of State
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Like Almanacks, grow out of date,
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What then can I expect?
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Ile tell thee Dick, etc.
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Troth in contempt, of Fortunes frowne,
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I'le get me fairely out of Towne,
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And in a Cloyster pray:
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That since the Starres, are yet unkind
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To Royalists, the King may find,
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More faithfull Friends then they.
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Ile tell thee Dick, etc.
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An Echo, in Answer to
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the CAVALIERS
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Complaint.
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I Marvaile Dick, that having beene,
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So long abroad, and having seene
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The World, as thou hast done:
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Thou shouldst acquaint me with a Tale,
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As old as Nestor, and as stale,
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As that of Priest and Nunne.
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Ile tell thee Dick etc.
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Are we to learne what is a Court
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A Pageant made, for Fortunes sport
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Where Merits scarce appeare:
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For bashfull merits, only dwels
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In Camps, in Villages, and Cels,
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Alas, it comes not there.
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Ile tell thee Dick etc.
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Desert is nice, in it's addresse,
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And Merit oft times doth oppresse,
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Beyond what guilt would doe:
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But they are sure, of their Demands
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That come to Court, with Golden hands,
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And brazen Faces too.
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Ile tell thee Dick etc.
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The King indeed, doth still professe,
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To give his Party soone Redresse,
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And cherish Honesty:
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But his good Wishes prove in vaine
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Whose service, with his Servants gaine,
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Not alwayes doth agree.
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Ile tell thee Dick etc.
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All Princes (be they ne're so Wise)
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Are faine to See with other eyes,
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But seldome Heare at all:
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And Courtiers find their Interest
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In time to Feather well their Nest,
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Providing for their Fall.
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Ile tell thee Dick etc.
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Our Comfort doth on Time depend,
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Things when they are at worst; will mend,
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And let us but reflect
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On our Condition, 'tother day,
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When none but Tyrants bore the sway,
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What did we then Expect?
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Ile tell thee Dick etc.
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Meanewhile, a calme Retreat is best,
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But Discontent if not supprest,
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Will breed D[i]sloyalty:
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This is the constant note I'le sing,
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I have been Faithfull to the King,
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And so, shall live and dye.
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Ile tell thee Dick etc.
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