CAPTAIN COX

Room, room, for my Horse will wince, If he come within so many yards of a Prince, And though he have not on his wings, He will do strange things. He is the Pegasus that uses To wait on Warwick Muses; And on gaudy-days he paces Before the Coventry Graces; For to tell you true, and in rhyme, He was foaled in Q. Elizabeths time, When the great Earl of Lester In this Castle did feast her. Now, I am not so stupid To think, you think me a Cupid; Or a Mercury, that fit him: Though these Cocks here would fit him. But a spirit very civil, Neither Poets God, nor Devil, And old Kenilworth Fox, The Ghost of Captain Cox, For which I am the bolder, To wear a Cock on each shoulder. This Captain Cox, by St. Marry, Was at Bullen with King Hary; And (if some do not vary) Had a goodly library, By which he was discerned To be one of the learned To entertain the Queen here, When last she was seen here. And for the Town of Coventry To act to her sovereignty. But so his lot fell out, That serving then afoot, And being a little man; When the skirmish began betwixt the Saxon, and the Dane, (For thence the story was taken) He was not so well seen As he would have been o'the Queen. Though this sword were twice so long As any men else in the throng And for his sake, the Play Was called for the second day. But he made a vow (And he performs it now) That were he alive, or dead, Hereafter, it should never be said But Cap. Cox would serve on horse For better or for worse, If any Prince came hither. And his horse should have a feather Nay, such a Prince it might be Perhaps he should have three. Now, Sir (in your approach The rumbling of your Coach Awaking me, (his Ghost) I come to play your Host; And feast your eyes and ears, Neither with Dogs, nor Bears, Though that have been a fit Of our maine-shire wit, In times heretofore, But now, we have God a little more. These then that we present With a most loyal intent And (as the Author says) No ill meaning to the Catholic faith, Are not so much beasts, as Fowls, But a very Nest of Owls, And natural, so thrive I, I found them in the Ivy, A thing, that though I blundered at, It may in time be wondered at, If the place but affords Any store of lucky birds, As I make'em to flush Each Owl out of his bush. Now, these Owls (some say) were men, And they may be so again, If once they endure the light Of your highness sighed: For Bankrupts, we have known Rise to more then their own. With a little-little savour Of the Princes favour, But, as you Like their tricks, I'll spring'em, they are but six. Heigh, Owl first. This Bird is London bred As you may see by his horned head. And had Like to have been taken At his shop in Jvy-lane, Where he sold by the peney Tobacco, as good as any; But, whither it did provoke His conscience, he sold smoke; Or some other toy he took, Towards his calling to look: He fled by Moonshine thence; And broke for sixteen pence. Heigh, Owl second. This too, the more is the pity Is of the breed, of the same City, A true Owl of London That gives out he is undone, Being a Cheesemonger, By trusting two of the younger Captains, for the hunger Of their half-starved number; Whom since they have shipped away: And left him God to pay, With those ears for a badge Of their dealing with his Madge. Heigh, Owl third. A pure native Bird This, and though his hue Be not Coventry -blue, Yet is he undone By the thread he has spun, For since the wise town Has let the sports down Of May-games, and Morris, For which he right sorry is: Where their Maids, and their Makes, At dancings, and Wakes, Had their Napkins, and poses, And the wipers for their noses. And their smocks all-be-wrought With his thread which they bought, It now lies on his hands, And having neither wit, nor lands, Is ready to hang, or choke him, In a skein of that, that broke him. Heigh, Owl fourth. Was once a Bankrupt of worth; And having run a shifting raze At last by money, and grace, God him a Sergeants place, And to be one of Chase. A full so rtnight was not spent, But out comes the Parliament, Takes away the use of his Mace, And left him in a worse, then his first case. Heigh, Owl the fifth. But here was a defeat, Never any so great, Of a Done, a Spanish Reader, Who had thought to have been the Leader (Had the Match gone on) Of our Ladies one by one, And triumphed our whole Nation, In his Rodomant fashion: But now since the breach, He has not a Scholar to teach. Heigh, Owl sixth. The Bird-bringer up is a Knight, But a passionate wight, Who, since the Act against swearing, (The tale's worth your hearing) In this short times growth Hath at twelve pence and oath; For that (I take it) is the rate Sworn himself out of his estate. The third varied. A Crop-eared Scrivener, this, Who when he herd but the whis per of moneys to come down, Fright God him out of Town With all the Bills and Bans Of other men's in his hands, And cried, who will drive the trade, Since such a Law they had made: It was not he that broke. Two i'the hundred spoke. Nor cared he for the curse, He could not hear much worse, He had his ears in his purse.