Jack of Lent’s Ballat
[On the welcoming of Queen Henrietta Maria, 1625].
1.
List you Nobles, and attend,
For here’s a Ballat newly penn’d
I took it up in Kent,
If any ask who made the same,
To him I say the authors name
Is honest Jack of Lent.
2.
But ere I farther passe along,
Or let you know more of my Song,
I wish the doores were lockt,
For if there be so base a Groom,
As one informes me in this room,
The Fidlers may be knockt.
3.
Tis true, he had, I dare protest,
No kind of malice in his brest,
But Knaves are dangerous things;
And they of late are grown so bold,
They dare appeare in cloth of Gold,
Even in the roomes of Kings.
4.
But hit or misse I will declare
The speeches at London and elsewhere,
Concerning this design,
Amongst the Drunkards it is said,
They hope her dowry shall be paid
In nought but Clarret wine.
5.
The Country Clowns when they repaire
Either to Market or to Faire,
No sooner get their pots,
But straight they swear the time is come
That England must be over-run
Betwixt the French and Scots.
6.
The Puritans that never fayle
’Gainst Kings and Magistrates to rayle,
With impudence aver,
That verily, and in good sooth,
Some Antichrist, or pretty youth,
Shall doubtlesse get of her.
7.
A holy Sister having hemm’d
And blown her nose, will say she dream’d,
Or else a Spirit told her,
That they and all these holy seed,
To Amsterdam must go to breed,
Ere they were twelve months older.
8.
And might but Jack Alent advise,
Those dreams of theirs should not prove lies,
For as he greatly feares,
They will be prating night and day,
Till verily, by yea, and nay,
They set’s together by th’ ears.
9.
The Romish Catholiques proclaim,
That Gundemore, though he be lame,
Yet can he do some tricks;
At Paris, he the King shall show
A pre-contract made, as I know,
Five hundred twenty six.
10.
But sure the State of France is wise,
And knowes that Spain vents naught but lies,
For such is their Religion;
The Jesuits can with ease disgorge
From that their damn’d and hellish forge,
Foule falshood by the Legion.
11.
But be it so, we will admit,
The State of Spain hath no more wit,
Then to invent such tales,
Yet as great Alexander drew,
And cut the Gorgon Knot in two,
So shall the Prince of Wales.
12.
The reverend Bishops whisper too,
That now they shall have much adoe
With Friers and with Monks,
And eke their wives do greatly feare
Those bald pate knaves will mak’t appeare
They are Canonical punks.
13.
At Cambridge and at Oxford eke,
They of this match like Schollers speak
By figures and by tropes,
But as for the Supremacy,
The Body may King James’s be,
But sure the Head’s the Pope’s.
14.
A Puritan stept up and cries,
That he the major part denies,
And though he Logick scorns,
Yet he by revelation knows
The Pope no part o’ th’ head-piece ows
Except it be the horns.
15.
The learned in Astrologie,
That wander up and down the sky,
And their discourse with stars, [there]
Foresee that some of this brave rout
That now goes faire and soundly out,
Shall back return with scars.
16.
Professors of Astronomy,
That all the world knows, dare not lie
With the Mathematicians,
Prognosticate this Somer shall
Bring with the pox the Devil and all,
To Surgeons and Physitians.
17.
The Civil Lawyer laughs in’s sleeve,
For he doth verily believe
That after all these sports,
The Cit[i]zens will horn and grow,
And their ill-gotten goods will throw
About their bawdy Courts.
18.
And those that do Apollo court,
And with the wanton Muses sport,
Believe the time is come,
That Gallants will themselves addresse
To Masques & Playes, & Wantonnesse,
More than to fife and drum.
19.
Such as in musique spend their dayes,
And study Songs and Roundelayes,
Begin to cleare their throats,
For by some signes they do presage,
That this will prove a fidling age
Fit for men of their coats.
20.
But leaving Colleges and Schools,
To all those Clerks and learned Fools,
Lets through the city range,
For there are Sconces made of Horn,
Foresee things long ere they be born,
Which you’l perhaps think strange.
21.
The Major and Aldermen being met, [Mayor]
And at a Custard closely set
Each in their rank and order,
The Major a question doth propound,
And that unanswer’d must go round,
Till it comes to th’ Recorder.
22.
For he’s the Citys Oracle,
And which you’l think a Miracle,
He hath their brains in keeping,
For when a Cause should be decreed,
He cries the bench are all agreed,
When most of them are sleeping.
23.
A Sheriff at lower end o’ th’ board
Cries Masters all hear me a word,
A bolt Ile onely shoot,
We shall have Executions store
Against some gallants now gone o’re,
Wherefore good brethren look to’t.
24.
The rascall Sergeants fleering stand,
Wishing their Charter reacht the Strand,
That they might there intrude;
But since they are not yet content,
I wish that it to Tyburn went,
So they might there conclude.
25.
An Alderman both grave and wise
Cries brethren all let me advise,
Whilst wit is to be had,
That like good husbands we provide
Some speeches for the Lady bride,
Before all men go mad.
26.
For by my faith if we may guesse
Of greater mischiefs by the lesse,
I pray let this suffice,
If we but on men’s backs do look,
And look into each tradesmans book
You’l swear few men are wise.
27.
Some thred-bare Poet we will presse,
And for that day we will him dresse,
At least in beaten Sattin,
And he shall tell her from this bench,
That though we understand no French,
At Pauls she may hear Lattin.
28.
But on this point they all demurre,
And each takes counsell of his furre
That smells of Fox and Cony,
At last a Mayor in high disdain,
Swears he much scorns that in his reign
Wit should be bought for mony.
29.
For by this Sack I mean to drink,
I would not have my Soveraign think
for twenty thousand Crownes,
That I his Lord Lieutenant here,
And you my brethren should appear
Such errant witlesse Clownes.
30.
No, no, I have it in my head,
Devises that shall strike it dead,
And make proud Paris say
That little London hath a Mayor
Can entertain their Lady faire,
As well as ere did they.
31.
S. Georges Church shall be the place
Where first I mean to meet her grace,
And there St. George shall be
Mounted upon a dapple gray,
And gaping wide shall seem to say,
Welcome St. Dennis to me.
32.
From thence in order two by two
As we to Pauls are us’d to goe,
To th’ Bridge we will convey her,
And there upon the top o’ th’ gate,
Where now stands many a Rascal’s pate,
I mean to place a player.
33.
And to the Princess he shall cry,
May’t please your Grace, cast up your eye
And see these heads of Traytors;
Thus will the city serve all those
That to your Highnesse shall prove foes,
For they to Knaves are haters.
34.
Down Fishstreet hill a Whale shall shoot,
And meet her at the Bridges foot,
And forth of his mouth so wide a
Shall Jonas peep, and say, for fish,
As good as your sweet-heart can wish,
You shall have hence each Friday.
35.
At Grace-church corner there shall stand
A troop of Graces hand in hand,
And they to her shall say,
Your Grace of France is welcome hither,
’Tis merry when Graces meet together,
I pray keep on your way.
36.
At the Exchange shall placed be,
In ugly shapes those sisters three
That give to each their fate,
And Spaine’s Infanta shall stand by
Wringing their hands, and thus shall cry,
I do repent too late.
37.
There we a paire of gloves will give,
And pray her Highnesse long may live
On her white hands to wear them;
And though they have a Spanish scent,
The givers have no ill intent,
Wherefore she need not feare them.
38.
Nor shall the Conduits now run Claret,
Perhaps the Frenchman cares not for it,
They have at home so much,
No, I will make the boy to pisse
No worse then purest Hypocris,
Her Grace ne’re tasted such.
39.
About the Standard I think fit
Your wives, my brethren, all should sit,
And eke our Lady Mayris,
Who shall present a cup of gold,
And say if we might be bold,
We’l drink to all in Paris.
40.
In Pauls Church-yard we breath may take,
For they such huge long speeches make,
Would tire any horse;
But there I’le put her grace in minde,
To cast her Princely head behind
And view S. Paul’s Crosse.
41.
Our Sergeants they shall go their way,
And for us at the Devil stay,
I mean at Temple-barre,
And there of her we leave will take,
And say ’twas for King Charls his sake
We went with her so farre.
42.
But fearing I have tir’d the eares,
Both of the Duke and all these Peeres,
Ile be no more uncivill,
Ile leave the Mayor with both the Sheriffs,
With Sergeants, hanging at their sleeves,
For this time at the Devill.