To trim the town, great care before
Was tane by th' lord vice-chancellor ;
Both morn and even he cleans'd the way,
The streets he gravelled thrice a day :
One strike of March-dust for to see

No proverb would give more than he.

Their colledges were new be-painted,
Their founders eke were new be-sainted;
Nothing escap'd, nor post, nor door,

Nor gate, nor rail, nor bawd, nor whore:
You could not know (Oh strange mishap!)
Whether you saw the town or map.

But the pure house of Emanuel
Would not be like proud Jesabel,
Nor shew her self before the king
An hypocrite, or painted thing:

6 "A bushel of March dust is worth a king's ransom.' 7 Coll. Eman. abundat puritanis.

But, that the ways might all prove fair, Conceiv'd a tedious mile of prayer.

Upon the look'd-for seventh of March,
Outwent the townsmen all in starch,
Both band and beard, into the field,
Where one a speech could hardly wield;
For needs he would begin his stile,
The king being from him half a mile.

They gave the king a piece of plate,
Which they hop'd never came too late;
But cry'd, Oh! look not in, great king,
For there is in it just nothing:

And so prefer'd with tune and gate,
A speech as empty as their plate.

Now, as the king came neer the town, Each one ran crying up and down,

The king entered Cambr. 7 Mar. 1614-5.

Alas poor Oxford, thou 'rt undone,
For now the king's past Trompington,

And rides upon his brave gray dapple,
Seeing the top of Kings-Colledge chappel.

Next rode his lordship9 on a nag,

Whose coat was blue', whose ruff was shag,

And then began his reverence

To speak most eloquent non-sense:

See how (quoth he) most mighty prince,

For very joy my horse doth wince.

What cryes the town? What we? (said he)

What cryes the University?

What cry the boys? What ev'ry thing?

Behold, behold, yon comes the king:

And ev'ry period he bedecks

With En & Ecce venit Rex.

9 Samuel Harsnett, then bp. of Chichester.
1 Vestis indicat virum.

Oft have I warn'd (quoth he) our dirt
That no silk stockings should be hurt;

But we in vain strive to be fine,
Unless your graces sun doth shine;
And with the beams of your bright eye,
You will be pleas'd our streets to dry.

Now come we to the wonderment

Of Christendom, and eke of Kent,

The Trinity; which to surpass,

2

Doth deck her spokesman by a glass:
Who, clad in gay and silken weeds,

Thus opes

his mouth, hark how he speeds.

I wonder what your grace doth here,
Who have expected been twelve year,
And this your son, fair Carolus,

That is so Jacobissimus3¿

2 Nethersoli Cant. orator, qui per speculum seipsum solet ornari.

3 Orator hoc usus est vocabulo in oratione ad regem.

Here's none, of all, your grace refuses,

You are most welcome to our Muses.

Although we have no bells to jangle,
Yet can we shew a fair quadrangle,

Which, though it ne're was grac'd with king,

Yet sure it is a goodly thing:

My warning's short, no more I'le say,
Soon you shall see a gallant play.

But nothing was so much admir'd,
As were their plays so well attir'd; ·
Nothing did win more praise of mine,
Then did their actors most divine*:
So did they drink their healths divinely;
So did they dance and skip so finely.

Their plays had sundry grave wise factors, A perfect diocess of actors

4 Actores omnes fuere theologi.