The Jovialists’ Coronation

From the Loyal Garland.

Since it must be so, why then so let it go,
Let the giddy-brain’d times turn round;
Now we have our King, let the goblets be crowned,
And our monarchy thus we recover;
Whilst the pottles are weeping
      We’ll drench our sad souls
      In big-belly’d bowls,
And our sorrows in wine shall lie steeping.
And we’ll drink till our eyes do run over,
      And prove it by reason,
      It can be no treason
To drink or to sing
A mournifal of healths to our new-crowned King.

Let us all stand bare in the presence we are,
Let our noses like bonfires shine;
Instead of the conduits, let pottles run wine,
To perfect this true coronation;
And we that are loyal, in drink shall be peers;
      For that face that wears claret
      Can traytors defie all,
And out-stares the bores of our nation;
      In sign of obedience
      Our oaths of allegiance
Beer glasses shall be,
And he that tipples tends to jollitry.

But if in this reign a halberdly train,
Or a constable, chance to revel,
And would with his twyvels maliciously swell,
And against the King’s party raise arms:
Then the drawers, like yeomen o’ the guard,
      With quart-pots
      Shall fuddle the sots,
Till they make ’um both cuckolds and freemen,
And on their wives beat up alarms,
      Thus as the health passes,
      We’ll triple our glasses,
And count it no sin
To drink and be loyal in defence of our King.