“_Col. Roscarrock_.—Go off to Boscobel the nearest road, And one that fewest folks do travel by. Tell William Penderell to hasten hither, Without a minute’s stopping, And should he ask thee why and wherefore, Tell him Good Master Giffard wants him here Without delay, and see thou com’st back with him; And shouldst thou meet or pass folks on the road, Say nought unto them as to where thou’rt going Or what thy errand is. Haste, and some coin Shall warm thy pocket if thou mind’st my words. “_Boy_.—Aye, aye, sir, humble boys have sharpish wits. Because their simple food keeps them in health; I’se warrant the Squire’s son, though so well fed, Cannot leap gates like I, or ride a horse Barebacked across the hedges of our farm. Aye, aye, sir, I can keep my counsel, too; I know a hay-fork from a noble’s sword, And I do feel that with my harvest fork I could defend a king as stoutly As those who carry golden-handled swords. I go, and no man, no, nor woman either, Shall coax one word from off my faithful tongue. [_Exit_. “_Col. Roscarrock_.—See now, how this young varlet guesses all, His eye alone told all I thought unknown; Well, trusty friends dwell oft in rustic hearts With more sincerity than in the breasts Of those who fill the highest offices.” Boscobel was selected upon the suggestion of the Earl of Derby, who, defeated and wounded on the 25th of August, 1651, at the battle of Wigan, by the Parliamentary forces under Colonel Lilburn, found his way hither whilst seeking to join Charles at Worcester, and who, after four or five days rest here, went on, and reached Worcester on the eve of the famous battle. Boscobel, so named, as we have seen, by Sir Basil Brooke, of the Court House, Madeley, on account of its beautiful and well-wooded situation, and built ostensibly as a hunting-lodge, but in reality as a hiding-place for priests, amid the sombre forest of Brewood, was often used for the purpose for which it was designed, as well as a shelter for distressed Cavaliers. The story of the disfigurement of Charles, and his crouching wet and weary in the woods, has been often told in prose and verse. We quote Griffiths again:— “_W. Penderell_ (to the King).—Sire, disguise is your first need, henceforth your title must not pass Our lips; here in this chimney rub your hands And then transfer the blackness to your face. We must in, and clothe you in a rustic suit Of green, with leathern doublet and a noggain shirt For we have heard that troops have come to Codsall But three miles off, under the traitor Ashenhurst. Haste! Haste! and when your rough disguise is donned We must take shelter in the thick Spring Coppice, The darkest covert Boscobel doth claim.