1

With which old Noll's horns fhe did rub,

When he was got drunk with falfe bumpers.
Says old Simon, &e.

Here's the purfe of the publique faith;

Here's the model of the Sequeftration,

When the old wives upon their good troth,
Lent thimbles to ruine the nation.
Here's Dick Cromwell's Protectorship,
And here are Lambert's commiffions,

And here is Hugh Peters his fcrip

Cramm'd with the tumultuous Petitions.
Says old Simon, &c.

And here are old Noll's brewing veffels,
And here are his dray, and his flings;
Here are Hewfon's awl, and his bristles;
With diverse other odd things:

And what is the price doth belong

To all these matters before ye
I'll fell them all for an old fong,
And fo I do end my ftory.
Says old Simon, &c.

?

99

95

100

195

XIX. OLD

Yer. 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 faid to have been griginally a cobler.

XIX.

OLD TOM OF BEDLAM.

MAD SONG THE FIRST.

It is worth attention, that the English have more fongs 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 fubjects of this caft to our writers, the fact is inconteftible, 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 felected 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 confiderable intervals of time, but we have here grouped them togegether, that the reader may the better examine their comparative merits. He may confider them as fo many trials of Skill in a very peculiar fubject, as the conteft of fo many rivals to fhoot in the bow of Ulyffes. The two firft 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 prefent century.

This is given from the editor's folio MS. compared with two or three old printed copies.

ORTH from my fad and darkfome cell,
Or from the deepe abyffe of hell,

Mad Tom is come into the world againe
To see if he can cure his diftempered braine.

Feares and cares oppreffe my foule :
Harke, howe the angrye furyes houle !
Pluto laughes, and Proferpine is gladd
To fee poore naked Tom of Bedlam madd.

Through the world I wander night and day
To feeke my ftraggling fenfes,

In an angrye moode I mett old Time,

With his pentarchye of tenses :

When me he spyed,

Away he hyed,

For time will stay for no man :

In vaine with cryes

I rent the fkyes,

For pity is not common.

.Cold and comfortless I lye :

Helpe, oh helpe or elfe dye!

20

Harke! I heare Apollo's teame,
The carman 'gins to whistle;
Chaft Diana bends her bowe,

The boare begins to bristle.

Come,

Come, Vulcan, with tools and with tackles,
To knocke off my troublesome shackles ;
Bid Charles make ready his waine

To fetch me my fenfes againe.

Laft night I heard the dog-ftar bark; Mars met Venus in the darke

;

Limping Vulcan het an iron barr,

And furiouslye made at the god of war :

25

30

Mars with his weapon laid about,

But Vulcan's temples had the gout,

For his broad horns did fo hang in his light,

35

He could not fee to aim his blowes aright:

Harke, I hear Acteons horne!

The huntsmen whoop and hallowe:
Ringwood, Royfter, Bowman, Jowler,
All the chafe do followe.

The man in the moone drinkes clarret,
Eates powder'd beefe, turnip, and carret,
But a cup of old Malaga facke

Will fire the bufhe at his backe.

55

XX.

THE DISTRACTED PURITAN,

MAD

SONG THE

SECOND,

was written about the beginning of the ferventeenth 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, Ọ noble Feftus,

When zeal and godly knowledge

Have put me in hope

To deal with the pope,

As well as the best in the college?

Boldly I preach, hate a cross, hate a furplice,

Miters, copes, and rochets ;

Come hear me pray nine times a day,

And fill your heads with crotchets.