A royal arbor (1663) :: :: University of Virginia Library

A Cavalier
May appear,
And shall be
Well rewarded for Loyalty
Royally,
Because he hath been true to
Sinking Sovereignty
Drink Wine freely my hearts,
For your high deserts,
So lately drown'd,
Shall be crown'd,
Cloth of gold
Will your wounded bodies infold;
Bags untold
You every day shall in your
Treasuries behold;
All Places of Profit and Renown
In the Town,
Sword or Gown,
Your suff'rings shall crown.
Therefore let us laugh,
And quaff,
And drink all off,
A merry go down,
The Kingdom's all our own:
But hark what ill news abroad is told,
Places sold
Are for Gold,
And I by my troat
Have not up to London brought

Above a groat,
For which my throat
Must sing another note.

[_]

Tune alter'd to the Seribrand.

2.

I am a Cavalier,
It sadly doth appear,
My shirt's a clout,
My elbow's out,
And never a Cloak to wear;
But I am grown so poor,
'Cause Fortune is a Whore,
She deals her Boons
To Pantaloons,
That pimp and keep the door.
In Feather and Muff
Is merit enough
For Gesemine-butter'd Squires;
The lofty affairs
Of Plackets and Players
Do keep us still in the bryers;
Yet others I see
Of better degree,
Or Truth is turn'd a Liar,
Whose heads though they be
Advanc'd very high,
Deserve to be set up higher.

3.

The Devil's in them still,
Let times be what they will,
When Fortune's in
The minde to spin,
The Devil guides the wheel;
Meer Politiques are but
Knaves in a several cut,
'Tis good or naught,
As they will ha't,
For Conscience door is shut:
Religion and Laws
Gild every Cause,
And make it shew resplendent;
They carry the Name
Ith' beginning oth' Game,
But nothing to do with the end on't:
We never did doubt
When first we went out,
And had no cause to fear,
When merit began
To march in the Van,
That Ingratitude was in the Rear.

4.

Tis Fortune's purblinde power
That doth us all devour,
She sets up slaves,
She pardons Knaves
And Rebels every hour;
Whilst Loyal hearts are fed

With begg'd and borrow'd bread,
They in Perfumes
And plunder'd Plumes
Are daily worshipped;
But these are the men,
I speak it agen,
Which lately I did tell you on,
Whose fancies are fit
With weapons and wit
To raise up a new Rebellion;
Yet true Loyalty
In my heart shall be
An everlasting lodger;
In my Rags I will sing,
God save our good King,
And send him no need of a Souldier.