Then forth he came as one half lame, All very faint and tired, Betwixt her legs he hung his head, As heavy heart desired; My dogs then being refresht again, And she of sleep bereaved, She dreamt she had me in her arms, And she was not deceived. _The good Old Cause._ Now _Lambert’s_ sunk, and valiant M—— [_Monk_] Does ape his General _Cromwel_, And _Arthur’s_ Court, cause time is short, Does rage like devils from hell; Let’s mark the fate and course of State, Who rises when t’other is sinking, And believe when this is past ’Twill be our turn at last To bring the Good Old Cause by drinking. First, red nos’d _Nol_ he swallowed all, His colour shew’d he lov’d it: But _Dick_ his Son, as he were none, Gav’t off, and hath reprov’d it; But that his foes made bridge of’s nose, And cry’d him down for a Protector, Proving him to be a fool that would undertake to rule And not drink and fight like _Hector_. The Grecian lad he drank like mad, [p. 13.] Minding no work above it; And _Sans question_ kill’d _Ephestion_ Because he’d not approve it; He got command where God had land, And like a _Maudlin_ Yonker, When he tippled all and wept, he laid him down to sleep, Having no more Worlds to conquer. Rump-Parliament would needs invent An Oath of abjuration, But Obedience and Allegiance are now come into fashion: Then here’s a boul with heart and soul To _Charles_, and let all say Amen to ’t; Though they brought the Father down From a triple Kingdom Crown, We’ll drink the Son up again to ’t. [p. 14.] _A Song._ Riding to _London_, on _Dunstable_ way I met with a Maid on _Midsummer_ day, Her Eyes they did sparkle like Stars in the sky, Her face it was fair, and her forehead was high: The more I came to her, the more I did view her, The better I lik’d her pretty sweet face, [p. 15.] I could not forbear her, but still I drew near her, And then I began to tell her my case: Whither walk’st thou, my pretty sweet soul? She modestly answer’d to _Hockley-i’th’-hole_. I ask’d her her business; she had a red cheek, She told me, she went a poor service to seek; I said, it was pitty she should leave the City, And settle her self in a Country Town; She said it was certain it was her hard fortune To go up a maiden, and so to come down. With that I alighted, and to her I stept, I took her by th’ hand, and this pretty maid wept; Sweet[,] weep not, quoth I: I kist her soft lip; I wrung her by th’ hand, and my finger she nipt; So long there I woo’d her, such reasons I shew’d her, That she my speeches could not controul, But cursied finely, and got up behind me, And back she rode with me to _Hockley-i’-th’-hole_.