VVit and drollery,: joviall poems. Never before printed. / By Sir J.M. Ja:S. Sir W.D. J.D. and other admirable wits.

Sir John Suckling's Answer.

1.

I'Le tell thee foole who e're thou be, That mad'st this fine song of me, Thou art a riming Sot; These very lines doe thee betray, Their barren wit makes all men say, 'Twas some rebellious Scot.

2.

But 'tis no wonder if you sing, Such songs of me that am no King, When every Blow-cap swears; Hee'l not obey King James his barne, That hugs a Bishop under his Arm, And hangs him in his Ears.

3.

Had I been of your Covenant, You▪d call me Son of John Agant, And give me great renown: But now I am John for the King, You say I am a poor Suckling, And thus you cry me down.

4.

Well 'tis no matter what you say, Of me, or mine, that ran away, I hold it no good fashion: A Loyall Subjects blood to spill, When we have knaves enough to kill, By force of Proclamation.

5.

Commend me unto Lashly stout, And his fellow Pedlars round about, Tell them without remorse; That I will plunder all the packs, Which they have got with stolne knick knacks, With these my hundred horse.

6.

This holy Warre, this zealous firk, Against the Bishop and the Kirk, Is a pretended bravery: Religion all the world can tell, Amongst Highlandlers ne'r did dwell. It's but to cloak their knavery.

7.

Such desperate gamesters as you be, I cannot blame for tutoring me, Since all you have is down: And every boor forsakes his Plow, And swears that heel turn gamester now, To venture for a Crowne.