%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A / SPEECH / MADE TO THE / Lord General MONCK, / AT / Clotheworkers Hall in London / The 13. of March, 1659. at which time he was there entertained / by that VVorthie Companie. Jordan, Thomas University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/25/2014 33271

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R211603 NAy, then let me come too with my Addresse, / Why mayn't a Rustick promise, or professe Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 806 A / SPEECH / MADE TO THE / Lord General MONCK, / AT / Clotheworkers Hall in London / The 13. of March, 1659. at which time he was there entertained / by that VVorthie Companie. A SPEECH MADE TO THE Lord General MONCK, AT Clotheworkers Hall in London The 13. of March, 1659. at which time he was there entertained by that Worthie Companie. A SPEECH MADE TO THE Lord General Monck, AT Clotheworkers Hall in London The 13. of March, 1659. at which time he was there entertained by that Worthy Company. Jordan, Thomas ?-?

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family Featured folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 6/25/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America nobility/ court politics/ government Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/25/2014 3:56:51 PM XBallad Jaworski, Cheryl Created XML Version of Ballad 6/25/2014 3:56:51 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/25/2014 3:56:51 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Palmer Browne, Megan Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/25/2014 3:56:51 PM Transcriptionist Two Gotsman, Jessica Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/25/2014 3:56:51 PM Transcriptionist One Boltz, Michele Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/17/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/14/2014 Checker Erik Bell Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/5/2012 Checker Elizabeth Aguilar Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/31/2012 Bibliographer Elizabeth Aguilar Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/31/2012 Checker Elizabeth Aguilar Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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NAy, then let me come too with my Addresse, Why mayn't a Rustick promise, or professe His good Affection t' you? Why not declare His Wants? How many, and how great they are? And how you may supply them? Since you may See our Hearts mourn, although our Clothes be gray. Great Hero of three Nations! Whose Bloud springs From pious and from pow'rfull Grandsire Kings; With whose Bloud-Royal you've enrich'd your veyns, And by continu'd Policy and Pains Have equall'd all their Glory; So that now Three Kingless Scepters to your Feet do bow, And court Protection, and Allyance too; And what Great men still reach'd at stoups to you. But you're too truly Noble to aspire By Fraud or Force to Greatness; or t'acquire Scepters and Crowns by Robbery, or base And wilfull breach of Trusts, and Oaths, nor place Your Happinesse in ravished Dominion, Whose Glory's only founded in opinion; Attended still with danger, fear, and doubt, And fears within, worse than all those without. You must still watch and fear, and think, and must Lose all Content to gratifie one Lust, Should you invade the Throne, or aym at Pelf, Throw down three Nations to set up yourself; Kings are but royal Slaves, and Prisoners too, They alwaies toyl, and alwaies guarded go. You are for making Princes, and can find No work proportion'd to your Pow'r, and mind, But Atlas-like to bear the World, and be The great Restorer of the Liberty Of three long captiv'd Kingdoms who were thrown By others strong Delusions, and their own Misguided zeal, to do and suffer what Their very Souls now grieve and tremble at, D bauch'd by those they thought would teach & rule'um, Who now, they find did ruine and befool'um. Our meanings still were honest, for alas! We never dream't of what's since come to pass; 'Twas never our intent to violate The setled Orders of the Church or State, To throw down Rulers from their lawfull Seat, Merely to make ambitious small things great, Or to subvert the Laws; but we thought then
The Laws were good if manag'd by good men; And so we do think still, and find it true, Old Laws did more good, and less harm than New; And 'twas the Plague of Countries and of Cities, When that great-belly'd House did spawn Committees. We fought not for Religion, for 'tis known, Poor men have little, and some great Ones none; Those few that love it truly, do well know, None can take 't from us, where we will or no. Nor did we fight for Laws, nor had we need, For if we had but Gold enough to feed Our taking Lawyers, we had Laws enough, Without addressing to the Sword, or Buff. Nor yet for Liberties; for those are things Have cost us more in Keepers, than in Kings. Nor yet for Peace; for if we had done so, The Souldiers would have beat us long ago; Yet we did fight, and now we see for what, To shufle mens Estates; those Owners that Before these wars, could call Estates their own, Are beaten out by others, that had none. Both Law and Gospel overthrown together, By those who ne're believ'd in, or lov'd either. Our truth, our trade, our peace, our wealth, our freedom, And our full Parliaments, that did get, and breed 'um, Are all devour'd, and by a Monster fell, Whom none, but you, could satisfie, or quell. You're great, you're good, you're valiant, & you're wise. You have Briarius hands, and Argus eyes; You are our English Champion, you're the true St. George for England, and for Scotland too. And though his Stories question'd much by some, Where true, or false, this Age, and those to come, Shall for the future find it so far true, That all was but a Prophecy of you; And all his great and high Atchievements be Explain'd by you in this Mythologie. Herein you've far outdone him, he did fight But with one single Dragon: but by your might A Legion have been tam'd, and made to serve The People, whom they meant t' undo and starve. In this you may do higher, and make fame, Immortalize your celebrated name, This Ages glory, wonder of all after, If you would free the Son, as he the Daughter.
FINIS.