Our loyaltyValued at a higher rate.
He that bears a sword
Or a word against the throne,
And does profanely prate
To abuse the state,
Hath no kindness for his own.
What tho’ painted plumes and prayers
Are the prosp’rous men,
Yet we’ll attend our own affairs
’Till they come to ’t agen;
Treachery may be faced with light,
And letchery lined with furr;
A cuckold may be made a knight,
Sing Fortune de la Guerre. But what’s that to us, brave boys, That are right honest men? We’ll conquer and come again, Beat up the drum again; Hey for Cavaliers, Hoe for Cavaliers, Drink for Cavaliers, Fight for Cavaliers, Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, Have at Old Beelzebub, Oliver stinks for fear.
Fifth Monarchy-men must down, boys, With bulleys of every sect in town, boys; We’ll rally and to ’t again, Give ’em the rout again; Fly like light about, Face to the right-about, Charge them home again When they come on again; Sing Tantara rara, boys, Tantara rara, boys, This is the life of an Old Cavalier.
A CAVEAT TO THE ROUNDHEADS.
From the Posthumous Works of Samuel Butler.
I come to charge ye
That fight the clergy,
And pull the mitre from the prelate’s head,
That you will be wary
Lest you miscarry
In all those factious humours you have bred;
But as for Brownists we’ll have none, But take them all and hang them one by one.
Your wicked actions
Join’d in factions
Are all but aims to rob the King of his due;
Then give this reason
For your treason,
That you’ll be ruled, if he’ll be ruled by you.
Then leave these factions, zealous brother,
Lest you be hanged one against another.
HEY, THEN, UP GO WE.
This song, says Mr. Chappell, in his Popular Music of the Olden Time, which describes with some humour the taste of the Puritans, might pass for a Puritan song, if it were not contained in the “Shepherds’ Oracles,” by Francis Quarles, 1646. He was cup-bearer to Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, daughter of James I., and afterwards chronologer to the city of London. He died in 1644, and his Shepherds’ Oracles were a posthumous publication. It was often reprinted during the Restoration, and reproduced and slightly altered by Thomas Durfey, in his “Pills to Purge Melancholy,” where the burthen is, “Hey, boys, up go we.”
Know this, my brethren, heaven is clear,
And all the clouds are gone;
The righteous man shall flourish now,
Good days are coming on.
Then come, my brethren, and be glad,
And eke rejoyce with me;
Lawn sleeves and rochets shall go down,
And hey, then, up go we.
We’ll break the windows which the whore
Of Babylon hath painted,
And when the popish saints are down
Then Barrow shall be sainted;
There’s neither cross nor crucifix
Shall stand for men to see,
Rome’s trash and trumpery shall go down,
And hey, then, up go we.
Whate’er the Popish hands have built
Our hammers shall undo;
We’ll break their pipes and burn their copes,
And pull down churches too;
We’ll exercise within the groves,
And teach beneath a tree;
We’ll make a pulpit of a cask,
And hey, then, up go we.
We’ll put down Universities,
Where learning is profest,
Because they practise and maintain
The language of the Beast;
We’ll drive the doctors out of doors,
And all that learned be;
We’ll cry all arts and learning down,
And hey, then, up go we.
We’ll down with deans and prebends, too,
And I rejoyce to tell ye
We then shall get our fill of pig,
And capons for the belly.
We’ll burn the Fathers’ weighty tomes,
And make the School-men flee;
We’ll down with all that smells of wit,
And hey, then, up go we.
If once the Antichristian crew
Be crush’d and overthrown,
We’ll teach the nobles how to stoop,
And keep the gentry down:
Good manners have an ill report,
And turn to pride, we see,
We’ll therefore put good manners down,
