[1] Elizabeth Cromwell.—A contemporary writes, “How many of the Royalist prisoners got she not freed? How many did she not save from death whom the Laws had condemned? How many persecuted Christians hath she not snatched out of the hands of the tormentors; quite contrary unto that [daughter of] Herodias who could do anything with her [step] father? She imployed her Prayers even with Tears to spare such men whose ill fortune had designed them to suffer,” &c. (S. Carrington’s History of the Life and Death of His most Serene Highness OLIVER, Late Lord Protector. 1659. p. 264.)

Elizabeth Cromwell, here contrasted with Salome, more resembled the Celia of As you Like It, in that she, through prizing truth and justice, showed loving care of those whom her father treated as enemies.

By the way, our initial-letter W. on opening page 11 (representing Salome receiving from the Spe?????t??, sent by Herod, the head of S. John the Baptist)—is copied from the Address to the Reader prefixed to Part II. of Merry Drollery, 1661. Vide postea, p. 232.

Our initial letters in M. D., C., pp. 3, 5, are in fac simile of the original.

[2] Cromwell “seemed much afflicted at the death of his Friend the Earl of Warwick; with whom he had a fast friendship, though neither their humours, nor their natures, were like. And the Heir of that House, who had married his youngest Daughter [Frances], died about the same time [or, rather, two months earlier]; so that all his relation to, or confidence in that Family was at an end; the other branches of it abhorring his Alliance. His domestick delights were lessened every day; he plainly discovered that his son [in-law, who had married Mary Cromwell,] Falconbridge’s heart was set upon an Interest destructive to his, and grew to hate him perfectly. But that which chiefly broke his Peace was the death of his daughter [Elizabeth] Claypole; who had been always his greatest joy, and who, in her sickness, which was of a nature the Physicians knew not how to deal with, had several Conferences with him, which exceedingly perplexed him. Though no body was near enough to hear the particulars, yet her often mentioning, in the pains she endured, the blood her Father had spilt, made people conclude, that she had presented his worst Actions to his consideration. And though he never made the least show of remorse for any of those Actions, it is very certain, that either what she said, or her death, affected him wonderfully.” (Clarendon’s Hist. of the Rebellion. Book xv., p. 647, edit. 1720.)

[3] John Cleveland wrote a satirical address to Mr. Hammond, the Puritan preacher of Beudley, who had exerted himself “for the Pulling down of the Maypole.” It begins, in mock praise, “The mighty zeal which thou hast put on,” &c.; and is printed in Parnassus Biceps, 1656, p. 18; and among “J. Cleveland Revived: Poems,” 1662, p. 96.

[4] Here the thought is enveloped amid tender fancies. Compare the more passionate and solemn earnestness of the loyal churchman, Henry King, Bishop of Chichester, in his poem of The Exequy, addressed “To his never-to-be-forgotten Friend,” wherein he says:—

[5] For special reasons, the Editor felt it nearly impossible to avoid the omission of a few letters in one of the most objectionable of these pieces, the twelfth in order, of Choyce Drollery. He mentions this at once, because he holds to his confirmed opinion that in Reprints of scarce and valuable historical memorials no tampering with the original is permissible. (But see Appendix, Part IV. and pp. 230, 288.) He incurs blame from judicious antiquaries by even this small and acknowledged violation of exactitude. Probably, he might have given pleasure to the general public if he had omitted much more, not thirty letters only, but entire poems or songs; as the books deserved in punishment. But he leaves others to produce expurgated editions, suitable for unlearned triflers. Any reader can here erase from the Reprint what offends his individual taste (as we know that Ann, Countess of Strafford, cut out the poem of “Woman” from our copy of Dryden’s Miscellany Poems, Pt. 6, 1709). No Editor has any business to thus mutilate every printed copy.

[6] Haut goust.

[7] Prefixed to “The Ex-Ale-tation of Ale” is given a Table of Contents (on page 112), enlarged from the one in the original “Antidote against Melancholy, made up in Pills,” 1661, by references to such pages of “Merry Drollery, Compleat,” 1670, 1691, as bear songs or poems in common with the “Antidote.”

[8] George Thomason. It was in 1640 that this bookseller commenced systematically to preserve a copy of every pamphlet, broadside, and printed book connected with the political disturbances. Until after the Restoration in 1660, he continued his valuable collection, so far as possible without omission, but not without danger and interruption. In his will he speaks of it as “not to be paralleled,” and it was intact at Oxford when he died in 1666. Charles II. had too many feminine claimants on his money and time to allow him to purchase the invaluable series of printed documents, as it had been desired that he should do. The sum of £4,000 was refused for this collection of 30,000 pamphlets, bound in 2,000 volumes; but, after several changes of ownership, they were ultimately purchased by King George the Third, for only three or four hundred pounds, and were presented by him to the nation. They are in the British Museum, known as the King’s Pamphlets, and the Antidote against Melancholy is among the small quartos. See Isaac D’Israeli’s Amenities of Literature, for an interesting account of the difficulties and perils attending their collection: article Pamphlets, pp. 685-691, edition 1868.

[9] J. P. Collier, in his invaluable “Bibliographical and Critical Account of the Rarest Books in the English Language,” 1865, acknowledges, in reference to “An Antidote against Melancholy,” that “We are without information by whom this collection of Poems, Ballads, Songs, and Catches was made; but Thomas Durfey, about sixty years afterwards, imitated the title, when he called his six volumes ‘Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Purge Melancholy,’ 8vo., 1719-20.” (Bibliog. & Crit. Account, vol. i. p. 26.) Again, “If N. D., whose initials are at the end of the rhyming address ‘to the Reader,’ were the person who made the selection, we are without any other clue to his name. There is no ground for imputing it to Thomas Jordan, excepting that he was accustomed to deal in productions of this class; but the songs and ballads he printed were usually of his own composition, and not the works of anterior versifyers.” (Ibid., i. 27.)

[10] It was a week of supreme rejoicing and frollic, being five days before the Coronation of Charles II. in Westminster Abbey, April 23rd. On the 19th were the ceremonies of the Knights of the Bath, at the Painted Chamber, and in the Chapel at Whitehall. On the 22nd, Charles went from the Tower to Whitehall, through well-built triumphal arches, and amid enthusiasm.

[11] These are the Blacksmith, the Brewer, Suckling’s Parley between two West Countrymen concerning a Wedding, St. George and the Dragon, the Gelding of the Devil, the Old and Young Courtier, the Welchman’s Praise of Wales, Ben Jonson’s Cook Lorrel, “Fetch me Ben Jonson’s scull,” a Combat of Cocks, “Am I mad, O noble Festus?” “Old Poets Hypocrin admire,” and “’Tis Wine that inspires.” The Catches are “Drink, drink, all you that think;” “If any so wise is,” “What are we met?” and “The thirsty earth drinks up the rain.”

[12] Ball at Court.—“31st. [December, 1662.] Mr. Povy and I to White Hall; he taking me thither on purpose to carry me into the ball this night before the King. He brought me first to the Duke [of York]’s chamber, where I saw him and the Duchesse at supper; and thence into the room where the ball was to be; crammed with fine ladies, the greatest of the Court. By and by, comes the King and Queene, the Duke and Duchesse, and all the great ones; and after seating themselves, the King takes out the Duchesse of York; and the Duke, the Duchesse of Buckingham; the Duke of Monmouth, my Lady Castlemaine; and so other lords other ladies: and they danced the Brantle [? Braule]. After that the King led a lady a single Coranto; and then the rest of the lords, one after another, other ladies: very noble it was, and great pleasure to see. Then to country dances; the King leading the first, which he called for, which was, says he, ‘Cuckolds all awry [a-row],’ the old dance of England. Of the ladies that danced, the Duke of Monmouth’s mistress, and my Lady Castlemaine, and a daughter of Sir Harry de Vicke’s, were the best. The manner was, when the King dances, all the ladies in the room, and the Queene herself, stand up: and indeed he dances rarely, and much better than the Duke of York. Having staid here as long as I thought fit, to my infinite content, it being the greatest pleasure I could wish now to see at Court, I went home, leaving them dancing.”—(Diary of Samuel Pepys, Esq., F.R.S., Secretary to the Admiralty, &c.)

[13] [In margin, a later-inserted line reads: