Part 7

But twelve good men and true, Caveliers, Caveliers, He excepts against you; Justice he fears. From bar and pulpit hee Craves such as do for fee Serve all turns, for he’l be Try’d by his peers.

Satan, y’ are guilty found By your peers, by your peers, And must die above ground! Look for no pity; Some of our ministry, Whose spir’ts with yours comply, As Owen, Caryl, Nye, {49} For death shall fit ’ee.

Dread judges, mine own limb I but took, I but took, I was forced without him To use a crutch; Some of the robe can tell How to supply full well His place here, but in hell I had none such.

Divel, you are an asse, Plain it is, plain it is, And weakly plead the case; Your wits are lost. Some lawyers will outdo’t, When shortly they come to’t; Your craft, our gold to boot, They have ingross’d.

Should all men take their right, Well-a-day, well-a-day, We were in a sad plight, O’ th’ holy party! Such practise hath a scent Of kingly government, Against it we are bent, Out of home char’ty.

But if I die, who am King of hell, King of hell, You will not quench its flame, But find it worse: Confused anarchy Will a new torment be; Ne’r did these kingdoms three Feel such a curse.

To our promotion, sir, There as here, there as here, Through some confused stir Doth the high-road lie; In hell we need not fear Nor King nor Cavalier, Who then shall dominere But we the godly?

Truth, then, sirs, which of old Was my shame, was my shame, Shall now to yours be told: You caused his death; The house being broken by Yourselves (there’s burglary), Wrath enter’d forcibly, And stopt his breath.

Sir, as our president, Taught by you, taught by you, ’Gainst the King away went Most strange and new; Charging him with the guilt Of all the blond we spilt, With swords up to the hilt, So we’le serve you.

For mercy then I call, Good my lords, good my lords, And traytors I’le leave all Duly to end it; Sir, sir, ’tis frivolous, As well for you as us, To beg for mercy thus,— Our crimes transcend it.

You must die out of hand, Satanas, Satanas: This our decree shall stand Without controll; And we for you will pray, Because the Scriptures say, When some men curse you, they Curse their own soul.

The fiend to Tiburn’s gone, There to die, there to die; Black is the north, anon Great storms will be; Therefore together now I leave him and th’ gallow,— So, newes-man, take ’em now, Soon they’l take thee.

Finis, Fustis, Funis.

A NEW BALLAD TO AN OLD TUNE,—TOM OF BEDLAM.

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.

THE SECOND PART OF ST GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.

To the tune of “To drive the cold winter away.” (March 7, 1659.)

NOW the Rump is confounded There’s an end of the Roundhead, Who hath been such a bane to our nation; He hath now play’d his part, And’s gone out like a f—, Together with his reformation; For by his good favour He hath left a bad savour; But’s no matter, we’ll trust him no more. Kings and queens may appear Once again in our sphere, Now the knaves are turn’d out of door, And drive the cold winter away.

Scot, Nevil, and Vane, With the rest of that train, Are into Oceana {63} fled; Sir Arthur the brave, That’s as arrant a knave, Has Harrington’s Rota in’s head; {64} But hee’s now full of cares For his foals and his mares, As when he was routed before; But I think he despairs, By his arms or his prayers, To set up the Rump any more, And drive the cold winter away.

I should never have thought That a monk could have wrought Such a reformation so soon; That House which of late Was the jakes of our state Will ere long be a house of renown. How good wits did jump In abusing the Rump, Whilst the House was prest by the rabble; But our Hercules, Monk, Though it grievously stunk, Now hath cleansed that Augean stable, And drive the cold winter away.

And now Mr Prynne {65} With the rest may come in, And take their places again; For the House is made sweet For those members to meet, Though part of the Rump yet remain; Nor need they to fear, Though his breeches be there, Which were wrong’d both behind and before; For he saith ’twas a chance, And forgive him this once, And he swears he will do so no more, And drive the cold winter away.

’Tis true there are some Who are still for the Bum; Such tares will grow up with the wheat; And there they will be, till a Parliament come That can give them a total defeat. But yet I am told That the Rumpers do hold That the saints may swim with the tyde; Nor can it be treason, But Scripture and reason, Still to close with the stronger side, And drive the cold winter away.

Those lawyers o’ th’ House— As Baron Wild-goose, {66} With Treason Hill, Whitlock, and Say— Were the bane of our laws And our Good old Cause, And ’twere well if such were away. Some more there are to blame, Whom I care not to name, That are men of the very same ranks; ’Mongst whom there is one, That to Devil Barebone For his ugly petition gave thanks, And drive the cold winter away.

But I hope by this time He’ll confess ’twas a crime To abet such a damnable crew; Whose petition was drawn By Alcoran Vane, Or else by Corbet the Jew. {67} By it you may know What the Rump meant to do, And what a religion to frame; So ’twas time for St George That Rump to disgorge, And to send it from whence it first came; Then drive the cold winter away.

A NEW-YEAR’S GIFT FOR THE RUMP.

(January 1659–60.)—From a broadside, vol. xv. in the King’s Pamphlets.

“The condition of the State was thus: viz. the Rump, after being disturbed by my Lord Lambert, was lately returned to sit again. The officers of the army all forced to yield. Lawson lies still in the river, and Monk is with his army in Scotland. Only my Lord Lambert is not yet come in to the Parliament, nor is it expected that he will without being forced to it. The new Common Council of the city do speak very high; and had sent to Monk their sword-bearer to acquaint him with their desires for a free and full Parliament, which is at present the desires, and the hopes, and the expectations of all. Twenty-two of the old secluded members having been at the House-door the last week to demand entrance, but it was denied them; and it is believed that neither they nor the people will be satisfied till the House be filled.” Pepys’ Diary, January, 1660.

YOU may have heard of the politique snout, Or a tale of a tub with the bottom out, But scarce of a Parliament in a dirty clout, Which no body can deny.

’Twas Atkins {68} first served this Rump in with mustard— The sauce was a compound of courage and custard; Sir Vane bless’d the creature, Noll snuffled and bluster’d, Which no body can deny.

The right was as then in old Oliver’s nose; But when the Devil of that did dispose, It descended from thence to the Rump in the close, Which no body can deny.

Nor is it likely there to stay long, The retentive faculties being gone, The juggle is stale, and money there’s none, Which no body can deny.

The secluded members made a trial To enter, but them the Rump did defy all By the ordinance of self-denial, Which no body can deny.

Our politique doctors do us teach That a blood-sucking red-coat’s as good as a leech To relieve the head, if applied to the breech, Which no body can deny.

But never was such a worm as Vane; When the State scour’d last, it voided him then, Yet now he’s crept into the Rump again, Which no body can deny.

Ludlow’s f— was a prophetique trump {69} (There never was anything so jump), ’Twas the very type of a vote of this Rump, Which no body can deny.

They say ’tis good luck when a body rises With the rump upward, but he that advises To live in that posture is none of the wisest, Which no body can deny.

The reason is worse, though the rime be untoward, When things proceed with the wrong end forward; But they say there’s sad news to the Rump from the Nor’ward; {70} Which no body can deny.

’Tis a wonderfull thing, the strength of that part; At a blast it will take you a team from a cart, And blow a man’s head away with a f—, Which no body can deny.

When our brains are sunck below the middle, And our consciences steer’d by the hey-down-diddle, Then things will go round without a fiddle, Which no body can deny.

You may order the city with hand-granado, Or the generall with a bastonado,— But no way for a Rump like a carbonado, Which no body can deny.

To make us as famous in council as wars, Here’s Lenthal a speaker for mine— And Fleetwood is a man of Mars, Which no body can deny.

’Tis pitty that Nedham’s {71} fall’n into disgrace, For he orders a bum with a marvellous grace, And ought to attend the Rump by his place, Which no body can deny.

Yet this in spight of all disasters, Although he hath broken the heads of his masters, ’Tis still his profession to give ’em all plasters, Which no body can deny.

The Rump’s an old story, if well understood; ’Tis a thing dress’d up in a Parliament’s hood, And like ’t, but the tayl stands where the head should, Which no body can deny.

’Twould make a man scratch where it does not itch, To see forty fools’ heads in one politique breech, And that, hugging the nation, as the devil did the witch; Which no body can deny.

From rotten members preserve our wives! From the mercy of a Rump, our estates and our lives! For they must needs go whom the Devil drives, Which no body can deny.

A PROPER NEW BALLAD ON THE OLD PARLIAMENT; OR, THE SECOND PART OF KNAVE OUT OF DOORS.

To the tune of

“Hei ho, my honey, my heart shall never rue, Four-and-twenty now for your mony, and yet a hard penny-worth too.”

(Dec. 11th, 1659.)—From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum.

“The events which gave occasion to the following ballad,” says Mr T. Wright in his Political Ballads, published for the Percy Society, “may be summed up in a few words. After the death of Cromwell, his son Richard was without opposition raised to the Protectorate; but his weak and easy character gave an opening to the intrigues of the Royalists, and the factious movement of the Republican party. Fleetwood, who had been named commander-in-chief of the army under the Protector, plotted to gain the chief power in the State, and was joined by Lambert, Desborough, and others. The Republicans were strengthened by the return of Vane, Ludlow, and Bradshaw, to the Parliament called by the new Protector. Lambert, the Protector’s brother-in-law, was the ostensible head of a party, and seems to have aimed at obtaining the power which had been held by Oliver. They formed a council of officers, who met at Wallingford House; and on the 20th April, 1659, having gained the upper hand, and having obtained the dissolution of the Parliament, they determined to restore the old Long Parliament, which they said had only been interrupted, and not legally dissolved, and to set aside the Protector, who soon afterwards resigned. On the 21st April, Lenthall, the old Speaker, with as many members of the Long Parliament as could be brought together, met in the House, and opened their session. The Parliament thus formed, as being the fag-end of the old Long Parliament, obtained the name of the Rump Parliament. Lambert’s hopes and aims were raised by his success against Sir George Booth in the August following, and jealousies soon arose between his party in the army and the Rump. The Parliament would have dismissed him, and the chief officers in the cabal with him, but Lambert with the army in October hindered their free meeting, and took the management of the government into the hands of a council of officers, whom they called the Committee of Safety. Towards the latter end of the year, the tide began to be changed in favour of the Parliament, by the declaration of Monk in Scotland, Henry Cromwell with the army in Ireland, and Hazelrigge and the officers at Portsmouth, in favour of the freedom of the Parliament. This ballad was written at the period when Lambert’s party was uppermost.”

The tune of “Hei ho, my honey,” may be found in Playford’s edition of “The English Dancing Master,” printed in 1686, but in no earlier edition of the same work.