With which old Noll's horns she did rub, Says old Simon, &e. Here's the purse of the publique faith ; Here's the model of the Sequestration, Lent thimbles to ruine the nation. And here are Lambert's commiflions, Says old Simon, &c. 95 100 And here are old Noll's brewing vessels, And here are his dray, and his flings ; With diverse other odd things : To all these matters before ye? Says old Simon, &c. XIX. OLD Yor. 94. See Grey's Hudibras Pt. 1. Cant. 2. ver. 570. &c. Ver. 100. 102. Cromwell had in his younger years followed the brewing trade at Huntingdon. Col. Hewson is said to bave been griginally a cobler. XIX. OLD TOM OF B E D L A M. MAD SONG THE FIRST. It is worth attention, that the English have more songs and ballads on the subject of madness, than any of their neighbours. Whether it is that we are more liable to this calamity than other nations, or whether our native gloominess hath peculiarly recommended subjects of this caft to our writers, the fact is incontestible, as any one may be satisfied, who will compare the printed collections of French, Italian Songs, &c. with those in our language. Out of a much larger quantity, we have selected half a dozen MAD Songs for these volumes. The three first are originals in their respective kinds : the merit of the three laft is chiefly that of imitation. They were written as considerable intervals of time, but we have here grouped them togegether, that the reader may the better examine their comparative merits. He may consider them as so many trials of skill in a very peculiar subject, as the contest of so many rivals to shoot in the bow of Ulysses. The two first were probably written about the beginning of the last century ; the third about the middle of it; the fourth towards the end; and the two laft within this present century. This is given from the editor's folio MS. compared with. two or three old printed copies. PORTH from my fad and darksome cell, Or from the deepe abyffe of hell, 5 Feares and cares oppresse my soule : Through the world I wander night and day To seeke my ftraggling fenfes, With his pentarchye of tenses : 25 Come, Vulcan, with tools and with tackles, 30 Last night I heard the dog-star bark ; Mars with his weapon laid about, 35 Harke, I hear Acteons horne! The huntsmen whoop and hallowe : All the chase do followe. The man in the moone drinkes clarret, cup of old Malaga facke a was written about the beginning of the seventeenth century by the witty bishop Corbet, and is printed from the 3d edition of his poems, 12mo. 1672, compared with a more ancient copy in the editor's folio MS. A M I mad, O noble Feftus, When zeal and godly knowledge pope, Boldly I preach, hate a cross, hate a surplice, Miters, copes, and rochets ; your |