Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ON THE LORD MAYOR ... PRESENTING THE LATE KING AND DUKE, by ANDREW MARVELL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ON THE LORD MAYOR ... PRESENTING THE LATE KING AND DUKE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: The londoners gent to their king do present
Last Line: Until you burn again, burn again.
Variant Title(s): Upon The Citye's Going In A Body To Whitehall


The Londoners Gent to the King do present
In a Box the City Maggot;
'Tis a thing full of weight, that requires the Might
Of whole Guild-Hall Team to drag it.
Whilst their Church's unbuilt, and their Houses undwelt,
And their Orphans want Bread to feed 'em;
Themselves they've bereft of the little Wealth they had left,
To make an Offering of their Freedom.
O ye Addle brain'd Cits who henceforth in their Wits
Would intrust their Youth to your heading;
When in Diamonds and Gold you have him thus enroll'd,
You know both his Friends and his Breeding?
Beyond Sea he began, where such a Riot he ran,
That every one there did leave him;
And now he's come O'er ten times worse than before,
When none but such Fools would receive him.
He ne'er knew, not he, how to serve or be free,
Though he has past through so many Adventures;
But e'er since he was bound, (that is he was crown'd)
He has every Day broke his Indentures.
He spends all his Days in running to Plays,
When he should in the Shop be poring:
And he wasts all his Nights in his constant Delights,
Of Revelling, Drinking and Whoring.
Thro' out Lumbard street each Man he did meet,
He would run on the Score and borrow,
When they'd ask'd for their own, he was broke and gone,
And his Creditors left to Sorrow.
Though oft bound to the Peace, yet he never would cease,
To vex his poor Neighbours with Quarrels,
And when he was beat, he still made his Retreat,
To his Cleavelands, his Nels, and his Carwels.
Nay, his Company lewd, were twice grown so rude,
That had not Fear taught him Sobriety,
And the House been well barr'd with Guard upon Guard,
They had robb'd us of all our Propriety.
Such a Plot was laid, had not Ashley betray'd,
As had cancell'd all Former Disasters;
And your Wives had been Strumpets to his Highnesses Trumpet,
And Foot Boys had all been your Masters.
So many are the Debts, and the Bastards he gets,
Which must all be defray'd by London,
That notwithstanding the Care of Sir Thomas Player,
The Chamber must needs be undone.
His Words nor his Oath cannot bind him to Troth,
And he values not Credit or History;
And though he has serv'd through two Prentships now,
He knows not his Trade nor his Mystery.
Then London Rejoyce in thy fortunate Choice,
To have made him free of thy Spices;
And do not mistrust he may once grow more just,
When he's worn of his Follies and Vices.
And what little thing is that which you bring
To the Duke, the Kingdom's Darling;
Ye hug it and draw like Ants at a Straw,
Tho' too small for the Gristle of Starling.
Is it a Box of Pills to cure the Kings Ills?
(He is too far gone to begin it)
Or that your fine Show in Processioning go,
With the Pix and the Host within It.
The very first Head of the Oath you him read,
Shews you all how fit he's to Govern,
When in Heart (you all knew) he ne'er was nor will be true,
To his Country or to his Soveraign.
And who could swear, that he would forbear
To cull out the good of an Alien,
Who still doth advance the Government of France,
With a Wife and Religion Italian?
And now, Worshipful Sirs, go fold up your Furrs,
And Vyners turn again, turn again!
I see who e'ers freed, you for Slaves are decreed
Until you burn again, burn again.






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