_As it was presented in Latine by Divines and others before His Majesty in Cambridge, by way of Enterlude, styled ~Liber novus de Adventu Regis ad Cantabrigiam~. Faithfully done into English, with some liberal Additions. Made rather to be sunge than read, to the Tune of Bonny Nell._
(The Notes are from a MS. copy in the Editor’s possession.)
It is not yet a fortnight since Lutetia[39] entertain’d our prince, And vented hath a studied toy As long[40] as was the siege of Troy: And spent herself for full five days In speeches, exercise, and plays.
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[41] 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_[42] Would not be like proud _Jesabel_, Nor shew her self before the king An hypocrite, or _painted_ thing: But, that the ways might all prove fair, Conceiv’d a tedious mile of prayer.
Upon the look’d-for seventh[43] 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, 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 lordship[44] on a nag, Whose coat was blue[45], 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_.