Almost all of these _Merry Drollery_ Extra Songs were written before the Restoration; of a few we know the precise date, as of 1653, 1650, 1623, &c. These are chiefly on political events, viz. the Funeral of Admiral Dean, so blithely commented on, with forgetfulness of the man’s courage and skill while remembering him only as an associate of rebels; the story of England’s Woe (certainly published before the close of 1648), with scorn against the cant of Prynne and Burton; the noisy, insensate revel of the song on the Goldsmith’s Committee (1647, p. 237), where we can see in the singers such unruly cavaliers as those who brought discredit and ruin; as also in the coarser “Letany” (on our page 241); and in the still earlier description of New England (before 1643), which forms a most important addition to the already rich material gathered from these contemporary records, shewing the views entertained of the nonconforming and irreconcileable zealots who held close connection with the discontented Dutchmen. Although caricatured and maliciously derisive, it is impossible to doubt that we have here a group of portraits sufficiently life-like to satisfy those who beheld the originals. As to the miscellaneous pieces, the Sham-Tinker, who comes to “Clout the Cauldron,” has genuine mirth to redeem the naughtiness. Dr. Corbet’s(?) “Merrie Journey into France” is crammed full of pleasantry, and while giving a record of sights that met the traveller, enlivens it with airy gaiety that makes us willing companions. This, with variations, may be met with elsewhere in print; but not so the delightfully sportive invitation of The Insatiate Lover to his Sweetheart, “Come hither, my own Sweet Duck” (p. 247). To us it appears among the best of these thirty-five additions: musical and fervent, without coarseness, the song of an ardent lover, who fears nothing, and is ripe for any adventure that war may offer. One of Rupert’s reckless Cavaliers may have sung this to his Mistress. Of course it would be unfair to blame him for not being awake to the higher beauty of such a sentiment as Montrose felt and inspired:— But if thou wilt prove faithful, then, And constant of thy word, I’ll make thee glorious by my pen, And famous by my sword: I’ll serve thee in such noble ways Was never heard before; I’ll crown and deck thee all with bays, And love thee more and more. Or, as Lovelace nobly sings:— Tell me not, sweet, I am unkinde, That from the nunnerie Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde To warre and armes I flie. True: a new Mistresse now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Lov’d I not Honour more.