They were shot over times one, two, three, or four, ’Tis thought one might ’heard th’ bounce to th’ Tower, Folk report, the din made the Buttermilk sower, Which no body can deny. 23. Had old Goodman _Lenthal_ or _Allen_ but heard ’um, The noise worse than _Olivers_ voice would ’fear’d ’um, And out of their small wits would have scar’d ’um. Which no body can deny. 24. Sommerset House, where once did the Queen lye, And afterwards _Ireton_ in black, and not green, by, The Canon clattered the Windows really, Which no body can deny. 25. The _Savoys_ mortified spittled Crew, If I lye, as _Falstaffe_ saies, I am a Jew, Gave the Hearse such a look it would make a man spew, Which no body can deny. 26. The House of S—— that Fool and Knave, [p. 60.] Had so much wit left lamentation to save From accompanying a traytorly Rogue to his grave, Which no body can deny. 27. The Exchange, and the ruines of _Durham_ House eke, Wish’d such sights might be seen each day i’ th’ week, A Generals Carkass without a Cheek, Which no body can deny. 28. The House that lately Great _Buckinghams_ was, Which now Sir _Thomas Fairfax_ has, Wish’d it might be Sir _Thomas’s_ fate so to pass, Which no body can deny. 29. _Howards_ House, _Suffolks_ great Duke of Yore, Sent him one single sad wish, and no more, He might flote by _Whitehall_ in purple gore, Which no body can deny. 30. Something I should of _Whitehall_ say, But the Story is so sad, and so bad, by my fay, That it turns my wits another way, Which no body can deny. 31. To _Westminster_, to the Bridge of the Kings, The water the Barge, and the Barge-men[,] brings The small remain of the worst of things, Which no body can deny. 32. They interr’d him in triumph, like _Lewis_ the eleven, In the famous Chappel of _Henry_ the seven, But his soul is scarce gone the right way to heaven, Which no body can deny. [p. 64.] _A merrie Journey to ~France~._ I went from _England_ into _France_, Not for to learn to sing nor dance, To ride, nor yet to fence, But for to see strange sights, as those That have return’d without a nose They carried away from hence. As I to _Paris_ rode along, Like to _John Dory_ in the Song, Upon a holy Tyde, Where I an ambling Nag did get, I hope he is not paid for yet, I spurr’d him on each side. First, to Saint _Dennis_ then I came, To see the sights at _Nostredame_, The man that shews them snaffles: That who so list, may there believe To see the Virgin _Maries_ Sleeve, And eke her odd Pantafles. [? old]