Chipps of the Old Block (1659)

by anon

For other versions of this work, see Chips of the Old Block.

Chipps of the Old Block;
Or,
Hercules
Cleansing the
Augæan Stable.

To the Tune of, The Sword.

I.
  Now you by your good leave Sirs,
  Shall see the Rump can cleave Sirs,
And what Chips from this Treacherous Block will come you may conceive Sirs.

II.
  Lenthal’s the first of the Lump sure,
  A Fart, and he may jump sure,
For both do stink, and both we know are Speakers of the Rump sure.

III.
  That Mine of fraud Sir Arthur,
  His Soul for Lands will barter,
And if you’d ride to Hell in a Wayne, He’s fit to make your Carter.

IIII.
  Sir Harry Vane, God blesse us,
  To Popery he would presse us,
And for the Devil’s dinner he, the Romane way would dresse us.

V.
  Harry Martin never mist-a,
  To love the wanton Twist-a,
And lustfull Aretine’s bawdy Leaves are his Evangelist-a.

VI.
  Harry Nevill’s no Wigeon,
  His Practise truly stygian,
Makes it a Master-piece of wit to be of no Religion.

VII.
  But my good Lord Glyn Man,
  Pride is a deadly sinne Man,
Cots pluttera nails few Traitors be like you of all your kin Man.

VIII.
  If Saint-John be a Saint Sir,
  He hath a Devilish Taynt Sir,
While Strafford’s blood in Heavens High Court of Justice makes complaint Sir.

IX.
  Doctor Palmer’s all day sleeping,
  And into his Heart ne’re peeping;
’Tis ill he that neglects his own, should have All-souls in keeping.

X.
  Will Bruerton’s a sinner,
  And, Croyden knowes, a Winner,
But O take heed least he do eat the Rump all at one Dinner.

XI.
  Robin Andrews is a Miser,
  Of Coblers no despiser,
And could they vamp him a new Head, perhaps he would be Wiser.

XII.
  *But Baron Wild come out here,
  Shew your Ferret face and Snout here,
For you being both a Fool and Knave Are a Monster in the Rout here.

XIII.
  Nick Lechmere Loyalty needs still,
  And on Weather-cocks he feeds still,
If Heathen, Turk, or Jew should come, so he would change his Creed still.

XIIII.
  There’s half-witted Will Say too,
  A right fool in the Play too,
That would make a perfect Asse, if he could learn to Bray too.

XV.
  Cornelius thou wer’t a Link-boy,
  And born, ’tis like, in a Sink boy,
Ide tell thy Knavery to the World, but thy Pitch sticks in my ink Boy.

XVI.
  Baron Hill was but a Valley,
  And born scarce to an Alley,
But now is Lord of Taunton-Deane and thousands he can Ralley.

XVII.
  Lord Fines he will not Mall men,
  For he likes not Death of all men,
And his Heart doth go to Pit to Pat, When to Battle he should call men.

XVIII.
  Perfidious Whitlock Ever,
  Hath mischief under’s Beaver,
And for his ends will put the World into a burning Feavour.

XIX.
  Ashely Cowper knew a Reason,
  That Treachery was in Season,
When at the first he turn’d his Coat from Loyalty to Treason.

XX.
  And gouty Master Wallop,
  Now thinks he hath the Ballop,
But though he trotted to the Rump, hee’l run away a Gallop.

XXI.
  There’s Carew Rawleigh by him,
  All good Men do defie him,
And they that think him not a Knave, I wish they would but try him.

XXII.
  Luke Robinson that Clownado,
  Though his heart be a Granado,
Yet a High-Shooe with his hands in’s Poke, is his most perfect shadow.

XXIII.
  Soloway with Tobacco,
  Inspired, turnd State Quacko;
And got more by his feigned zeal, then by his What de’e Lack ho.

XXIIII.
  But Widdrington how came you there?
  A wise man and a true there!
You are an Athanasius among a Knavish Crew there.

XXV.
  But Lisle is half forgotten,
  Who oft is over shotten,
For just like Harp and Gridiron his Brains with Law do Cotten.

XXVI.
  What Knaves are more to be vext Sirs,
  You’l hear when I sing next sirs,
For now my Muse is tir’d with this abominable Text Sirs,

Ridentem dicere verum, Quid vetat?

Printed at the Hague, for S. Browne, 1659.