Rump, or, An exact collection of the choycest poems and songs relating to the late times by the most eminent wits from anno 1639 to anno 1661.

RUMP SONGS. The Second Part. (Book 2)

The Re-resurrection of the RUMP. Or, Rebellion and Tyranny revived.

To the Tune of the Blacksmith.

IF none be offended with the scent, Though I foul my mouth, I'le be content, To sing of the Rump of a Parliament. Which no body can deny.

I have sometimes fed on a Rump in Sowse, And a man may imagine the Rump of a Lowse; But till now was ne're heard of the Rump of a House. Which no body can deny.

There's a Rump of Beef, and the Rump of a Goose, And a Rump whose neck was hang'd in a Noose; But ours is a Rump can play fast and loose. Which no body can deny.

A Rump had Jane Shore, and a Rump Messaleen, And a Rump had Antonies resolute Queen; But such a Rump as ours is, never was seen, Which no body can deny.

Two short years together we English have scarce Been rid of thy Rampant Nose (Old Mars) But now thou hast got a prodigious Arse. Which no body can deny

When the parts of the Body did all fall out, Some Votes it is like did pass for the Snout; But that the Rump should be King was never a doubt. Which no body can deny.

A Cat has a Rump, and a Cat has nine Lives, Yet when her Head's off, her Rump never strives; But our Rump from the Grave hath made two Retrives. Which no body can deny.

That the Rump may all their Enemies quail, They'll borrow the Devills Coat of Mayl, And all to defend their Estate in Tayl. Which no body can deny.

But though their scale now seems to be th'upper, There's no need of the charge of a Thanksgiving, supper, For if they be the Rump, the Armi's their Crupper. Which no body can deny.

There's a Saying belongs to the Rump, Which is good although it be worn to the stump, That on the Buttocks I'le give thee a Thump. Which no body can deny.

There's a Proverb in w^ch the Rump claims a part, Which hath in it more of Sence than of Art, That for all you can do I care not a Fart. Which no body can deny.

There's another Proverb gives the Rump for his Crest, But Alderman Atkins made it a Jest, That of all kind of Lucks, shitten Luck is the best. Which no body can deny.

There's another Proverb that never will fail, That the good the Rump will do when they pre∣vail Is to give us a Flop with a Fox-tail. Which no body can deny.

There is a Saying which is made by no Fools, I never can hear on't, but my heart it cools, That the Rump will spend all we have in Close-stools. Which no body can deny.

There's an Observation wise and deep, Which without an Onion will make me to weep, That Flyes will blow Maggots in the Rump of a Sheep. Which no body can deny.

And some that can see the wood from the trees, Say, this sanctified Rump in time we may leese; For the Cooks do challenge the Rumps for their Fees. Which no body can deny.

When the Rump do sit wee'l make it our Moan, That a Reason be enacted if there be not one, Why a Fart hath a tongue, and a Fyest hath none. Which no body can deny.

And whilst within the Walls they lurk, To satisfie us, will be a good work, Who hath most Religion, the Rump or the Turk. Which no body can deny.

A Rump's a Fag-end, like the baulk of a Furrow, And is to the whole like the Jail to the Burrough, 'Tis the Bran that is left when the Meal is run thorough. Which no body can deny.

Consider the VVorld, the Heav'n is the Head on't, The Earth is the middle, and we men are fed on't; But Hell is the Rump, and no more can be sed on't. Which no body can deny.

Flectere si nequeunt Superos Acharonta movebunt.

A New-Years-Gift for the RUMP.

YOu may have heard of the Politick Snout, Or a tale of a Tub with the bottom out, But scarce of a Parliament in a shitten Clout. Whih no body can deny.

'Twas Atkins first serv'd this Rump in with Mustard, The sawce was a compound of Courage and Custard, Sir Vane bless'd the Creature: Nol snufled & blusterd. Which no body can deny.

The Right was then in Old Olivers Nose, But when the Devil of that did dispose,

It descended from thence to the Rump in the cloze. Which no body can deny.

Nor is it likely there to stay long, The Retentive Faculties being gone, The Juggle is stale, and Mony there's none. Which no body can deny.

The Secluded Members made a Tryal To Enter, but them the Rump did defie all By the Ordinance of Self-denyal. Which no body can deny.

Our Politique Doctors do us Teach, That a Blood-sucking Red-coat's as good as a Leech, To Relieve the Head, if applyed to the Breech. Which no body can deny.

But never was such a Worm as Vane; When the State scour'd last, it voided him then, Yet now he's crept into the Rump again. Which no body can deny.

Ludlow's Fart, was a Prophetique Trump: (There was never any thing so Jump) Twas the very Type, of a Vote of this Rump. Which no body can deny.

They say 'tis good Luck, when a Body rises With the Rump upward; but he that advises To Live in that Posture is none of the wisest. Which no body can deny.

The Reason is worse, though the rime be untoward,

When things proceed with the wrong end forward; But they talk of sad news to the Rump from the Norward. VVhich no body can deny.

'Twas a wonderfull thing the strength of that Part, At a Blast, it will take you a Team from a Cart; And Blow a Man's Head away with a Fart. VVhich no body can deny.

When our Brains are Sunck below the Middle, And our Consciences steer'd by the hey down-diddle, Then things will go round without a Fiddle. VVhich no body can deny.

You may order the City with a Hand-Granado, Or the General with a Bastonado, But no way for a Rump like a Carbonado. VVhich no body can deny.

To make us as famous in Counsel, as VVars, Here's Lenthal, a Speaker for mine— And Fleetwood is a Man of Mars. VVhich no body can deny.

'Tis pitty that Nedhams Fall'n into Disgrace, For he orders a Bum with a marvailous Grace, And ought to attend the Rump by his Place. VVhich no body can deny.

Yet this in despight of all Disasters, Although he hath Broken the Heads of his Masters, 'Tis still his Profession, to give 'em all Plasters. VVhich no body can deny.

Let 'em cry down the Pope, till their Throats are sore, Their Design was to bring him in at the back door, For the Rump has a mind to the Scarlet-whore. VVhich no body can deny.

And this is a truth at all hands confest, However unskillfull in any of the rest; The Rump speaks the Language of the Beast. VVhich no body can deny.

They talk that Lambert is like to be try'd For Treason, and Buggery beside, Because that he did the Rump bestride. VVhich no body can deny.

The Rump's an old Story, if well understood 'Tis a thing dress'd up in a Parliaments Hood, And lik't; but the Taile stands where the Head should. VVhich no body can deny.

'Twould make a man scratch where it does not itch, To see forty Fools heads in one Politick breech, And that —hugging the Nation as the Devil did the VVitch. VVhich no body can deny.

From rotten Members preserve our VVives: From the mercy of a Rump, our Estates and our Lives, For they must needs go, whom the Devil drives. Which no body can deny.

A New Ballad.

To an Old Tune, Tom of Bedlam.

Make room for an honest Red-coat, (And that you'l say's a wonder) The Gun, and the Blade, Are his Tools, — and his Trade, Is for Pay, to Kill and Plunder. Then away with the Laws, And the Good Old Cause, Ne'r talk o' the Rump or the Charter, 'Tis the Cash does the feat, All the rest's but a Cheat, VVithout That, there's no Faith nor Quarter.

'Tis the Mark of our Coin, GOD WITH US, And the Grace of the Lord go along with't, When the Georges are flown, Then the Cause goes down, For the Lord is departed from it. Then away, &c.

For Rome, or for Geneva, For the Table, or the Altar, This spawn of a Vote, He cares not a Groat — For the Pence, hee's your dog in a Halter. Then away, &c.

Tho' the Name of King or Bishop,

To Nostrils pure may be Loathsom, Yet many there are, That agree with the Maior, That their Lands are wondrous toothsom. Then away, &c.

When our Masters are Poor, we Leave 'em, 'Tis the Golden Calf we bow too; VVe kill, and we slay, Not for Conscience, but Pay; Give us That, wee'l fight for you too: Then away, &c.

'Twas That first turned the King out; The Lords, next: then, the Commons: 'Twas that kept up Nol, Till the Devil fetch'd his Soul; And then it set the Bum on's. Then away, &c.

Drunken Dick was a Lame Protector, And Fleetwood a Backslider: These we served as the rest, But the City's the Beast That will never cast her Rider. Then away, &c:

When the Maior holds the Stirrop, And the Shreeves cry, God speed your Honours: Then 'tis but a Jump, And up goes the Rump, That will spur to the Devil upon us. Then away, &c.

And now for a fling at your Thimbles, Your Bodkins, Rings, and VVhistles,

In truck for your Toyes, We'll fit you with Boyes: ('Tis the doctrine of Hugh's Epistles.) Then away, &c.

When your Plate is gone, and your Jewells, You must next be entreated To part with your Bags, And strip you to Rags, And yet not think y'are cheated. Then away, &c.

The truth is, the Town deserves it; 'Tis a Brainless, Heartless Monster: At a Clubb they may Bawl, Or Declare at their Hall, And yet at a push, not one stir. Then away, &c.

Sir Arthur vows he'll treat 'em, Far worse than the Men of Chester, He's Bold, now they're Cow'd, But was nothing so Lowd When he lay in the ditch at Lester. Then away, &c.

The Lord hath left John Lambert, And the Spirit, Feaks Anointed, But why oh Lord, Hast thou sheathed thy Sword? Lo, thy Saints are disappointed. Then away, &c.

Tho' Sir Henry be departed:

Sir John makes good the place now, And to help on the work Of the Glorious Kirk, Our Brethren march apace too. Then away, &c.

While Divines, and States-men wrangle, Let the Rump-ridden Nation bite on't, There are none but we That are sure to go free, For the Souldier's still in the right on't. Then away, &c.

If our Masters won't supply us, With Mony, Food, and Clothing: Let the State look to't, We'll ha' one that will do't, Let him live,— we'll not damn for nothing Then away with the Laws, And the Good Old Cause, Ne'r talk o' the Rump or the Charter 'Tis the Cash does the Feat, All the rest's but a Cheat, Without That there's no Faith, nor Quarter.

The Breech wash'd by a Friend to the RUMP.

To the Tune of Old Simon the King.

IN an humour of late I was, Yeleped a dolefull dump.

Thought I—we're at a fine pass; Not a man stands up for the Rump: But lets be lashed o'r and o'r. While it lies like a senceless Fop. — 'Twould make a man a Whore, To see a Tail tew'd like a Top. Though a Rump be a dangerous bit, And many a Knave runs mad on't, Yet verily as it may hit, An honest man may be glad on't.

To abuse a poor, Blind Creature— I had like to have said and a Dumb; But now it has gotten a Speaker, And Say is the Mouth of the Bum, When Besse rul'd the Land there was no man Complain'd, and yet now they rail: I beseech you what differs a Woman From a thing that's all Tongue, and Tayle? Though a Rump, &c.

The Charter we've sworn to defend, And propagate the Cause. What call ye those of the Rump-end But Fundamental Laws? The Case is as clear as the Day, There had been no Reformation, If the Rump had claw'd it away, You had had no Propagation. Though a Rump, &c.

As a Bodie's the better for a Purge, Tho' the Guts may be troubled with Gripes: So the Nation will mend with a Scourge,

Tho' the Tayle may be sick of the Stripes. Ill humours to conveigh, When the State hath taken a Looseness, (Who can hold what will away? The Rump must do the Business. Though a Rump, &c.

The bold Cavalier, in the Field, That laughs at your Sword, and Gun-shot, An Ord'nance makes him to yield, And he's glad to turn Tail to Bum-shot. Old Oliver was a Teazer, And waged warr with the Stump; But Alexander, and Caesar Did both submit to the Rump. Though a Rump, &c.

Let no man be further misled By an Errour, past Debate; For Sedgwick has prov'd it the Head, As well of the Church as the State; Honest Hugh; that still turns up the Tippets, When he Kneels to Administer; Sayes — a Rump, with Skippons sippets, Is a Dish for a Holy Sister. Though a Rump, &c.

We're all the better for't, 'Tis the Fountain of Love, and of Life. 'Tis that makes the sport, Keeps the peace betwixt Man, and Wife. Oh; — happy all they that have spent Their Bloud, and Estates on the Breech,

For they're sure, at last to Repent; And they'd better dye Honest than Rich! Though a Rump, &c.

Through Pride of Flesh, or State, Poor Souls are overthrown: How happy then is our Fate? VVe've a Rump to take us down: In matters of Faith 'tis true, Some differings there may be, But give the Saints their due, In the Rump they all agree. Though a Rump, &c.

'Tis good at Bed, and at Bord; It gives us Pleasure and Ease, Will you have the rest in a word? 'Tis good for the new disease, (The Tumult of the Guts;) 'Tis a Recipe for the Kings Evill, Wash the Members as sweet as Nuts, And then throw them all to the Devil. Though a Rump be a dangerous Bit, And many a Knave runs mad on't, Yet, verily, as it may hit, An honest man may be glad on't.

Chipps of the Old Block; or, Hercules Cleansing the Augaean Stable.

To the Tune of The Sword.

1.

NOw by your good leave Sirs, Shall see the Rump can cleave Sirs, And what Chips from this Treacherous Block Will come you may conceive Sirs.

2.

Lenthall's the first o' the Lump sure, A Fart and he may jump sure, For both do stink, and both we know Are Speakers of the Rump sure.

3.

That Mine of Fraud Sir Arthur, His Soul for Lands will barter, And if you'd ride to Hell in a Wayn Hee's fit to make your Carter,

4.

Sir Harry Vane, God blesse us, To Popery he would press us, And for the Devils Dinner he, The Romane way would dress us.

5.

Harry Martin never mist-a To love the wanton Twist-a, And lustfull Aretines bawdy Leaves Are his Evangelist-a.

6.

Harry Nevill's no Wigeon, His Practise truly stygian Makes it a Master-piece of wit To be of no Religion.

7.

But my good Lord Glyn Man, Pride is a deadly sin Man, Cots plultera nails few Traytors be Like you of all your kin Man.

8.

If Saint-John be a Saint Sir, He hath a devilish Taynt Sir, While Straffords blood in Heavens High Court Of Justice makes complaint Sir.

9.

Doctor Palmers all day sleeping, And into his Heart ne're peeping, 'Tis ill he that neglects his own, Should have All-souls in keeping

10.

VVill Bruertons a sinner, And, Croyden knows, a Winner, But O take heed least he do eat The Rump all at one Dinner.

11.

Robin Andrews is a Miser, Of Coblers no despiser, And could they vamp him a new head, Perhaps he would be Wiser.

12.

But Baron VVild come out here, Shew your Ferret Face and Snout here, For you being both a Fool and Knave Are a Monster in the Rout here.

13.

Nick Lechmere Loyalty needs still, And on Weather-Cocks he feeds still, If Heathen, Turk or Jew should come, So he would change his Creed still.

14.

There's half-witted VVill Say too, A right fool in the Play too, That would make a perfect Asse, If he could learn to Bray too.

15.

Cornelius thou wert a Link-boy, And born 'tis like, in a Sink boy, Ide tell thy Knavery to the World, But thy pitch sticks in my ink boy.

16.

Baron Hill was but a Valley, And born scarce to an Alley, But now is Lord of Taunton Dean And thousands he can Ralley.

17.

But if you ask the Nation, Whence came his Elevation? They'll say he was not raised by God, But by our inundation.

18.

Lord Fines he will not Mall men, For he likes not death of all men, And his heart doth go to Pit to Pat, When to Battle he should call men.

19.

Perfideous VVhitlock ever, Hath mischiefs under's Beaver, And for his ends will put the World Into a burning Feavour.

20.

Ashley Cowper knew a Reason, That Treachery was in season, When at the first he turned his coat From Loyalty to Treason.

21.

And gouty Master Wallop, Now thinks he hath the Ballop, But though he trotted to the Rump, Hee'l run away a Gallop.

22.

There's Carew Rawleigh by him, All good men do defie him, And they that think him not a Knave, I wish they would but try him.

23.

Luke Robinson that Clownado, Though his heart be a Granado, Yet a High-shooe with his hands in his Poke, Is his most perfect shadow.

24.

Salloway with Tobacco, Inspired, turn'd State Quacko; And got more by his feigned zeal, Then by his What de'e lack ho.

25.

But Lisle is half forgotten, Who oft is over-shotten, For just like Harp and Gridiron His brains with Law do Gotten.

26.

Lord Monson's next the Bencher, Who waited with a Trencher, Now his tail is jerk'd at home and abroad, For he's a feeble Wencher.

27.

We hear from Sir John Lenthall, Though his gouty Lord hath spent all, His Rump's plac'd wrong, but 'tis his face That is right Fundamental▪

28.

What Knaves are more to be vext, Sirs, You'l hear when I sing next, Sirs, For now my Muse is tir'd with this Abominable text, Sirs. Ridentem dicere verum, Quid vetat?

Rump Rampant, or the Sweet Old Cause in Sippets.

To the Tune of, Last Parliament sat as snug as a Cat.

IN the name of the fiend, What the Rump up agin, The Delk, and the Good Old Cause, If they settle agin, Which to think were a sin, Good night to Religion and Laws.

First Tithes must go down Like a sprig of the Crown, Although J. Presbyter grumble; Already they tell's Our Lead and our Bells They'll sell, next our Churches must tumble▪

This poor English Nation, By this Generation, Hath been grieved 11. years and more, But in that season, And not without reason, They ha' thrice been turn'd out of door.

Which they please to call force, Yet themselves can do worse, For this Parcel of a House Dare keep out of door, Thrice as many more, And value the Law not a Louse.

First by Owl-light they met, And by that light they set, The reason of it mark, Their Acts and the light, Do differ quite, Their deeds do best with the dark.

Esquire Lenthall had swore, He'd fit there no more, Unless in with Oxen they drew him, That he once might speak true, They pick'd him out two, Sent Pembrook and Salisbury to him.

When these Gamesters were pack'd, The first gracious act Was for pence for their friends of the Army, Who for any side fight, Except't be the right; Sixscore thousand a month won't harm ye.

Yet many there be, Say the House is not free, When I am sure of that, T' one another they're so free, That the Nation do see, They're too free for us to be fat.

Religion they wav'd, Now they had us enslav'd, And got us sure in their Claw, They pull'd off their mask, And set us our task, Which is next to make Brick without straw.

The next Act they made Was for helping of Trade, So they setled again the Excise, Which the City must pay, For ever and aye, Yet might have chose had they been wise.

To pull down their King, Their plate they could bring, And other precious things, So that Sedgwick and Peters, Were no small getters By their Bodkins, thimbles and rings.

But when for the good Of the Nation 'twas stood Half ruined and forlorn, Though't lay in their power, To redeem't in an hour, Not a Citizen put out his horn.

They had manacled their hands With King and Bishops Lands, And ruined the whole Nation, So that no body cares Though they and their Heirs, Be cornute to the third Generation.

May their wives on them frown, But laugh and lie down, To any one else turn up Trump; To mend the breed, As I think there is need, Be rid like their men by the Rump.

And may these wise Sophees, Pay again for their Trophees, For I hope the Parliament means (Now they ha' been at the costs To set up the posts) To make them pay well for the Chains.

Fortunate Rising: or, The Rump Upward.

GOod people, and you that have been undone By Guns, and Drums and the Trumpets tone, And new hard words since Forty and One. Which no body can deny▪

Here is a word that will plague you more Then any that ever went before, 'Tis the Rump of Harry Martins Whore, VVhich, &c.

The Cause was at first a pretty conceit To create a durty Rebel great; But now that has left th'imperial Seat, Which, &c.

A General was a glorious Name, Till Essex his Member spoilt his fame; For a Souldier ought to be good at the Game, Which, &c.

The Communication Line was a Jigg, And as good as the Bath to make women big, Who never were so, till they learnt to digg, Which, &c.

Artillery was a thundring word, Where many appear'd with Musket and Sword, To fright poor Atkins out of a turd, Which, &c.

Cavalier was a name of as great a Force, As Centaure, that is both Man and Horse, And for Ravishing suffered many a curse, Which, &c.

Yet every Woman that had this fear, Although in her heart a Roundhead she were, In her belly she wisht a Cavalier, Which, &c.

Sequestration scar'd Men out of their Plate, Excise drew potent Ale out of date, And the Corps de Gard broke many of pate, Which, &c.

The Plunderers made men hide their money, And women their jewels, if they had any; And one there was, hid Gold in her Cunny, Which, &c.

A Commonwealth is a Citizens trust, And by his wife ador'd it must, As a Topique to prove adultery just, Which, &c.

The Protector storm'd with all mankind, Made Kings, and Princes walk behind, Till the Divel out-ranted him in a wind, Which, &c.

The Committee of Safety threw the Dye; But some body spit in his face from on high, And made the valiant Fleetwood cry, Which, &c.

But the Rump is a word of such a power, Pronounc'd, your beer, like thunder, 'twill sowr, And after make you squitter an howr, Which, &c.

The squirting at Epsom's not worth a louse, Rump out-does all, that comes there to carouse; For it shit from Portsmouth to Wallingford house, Which, &c.

If Booth were no Knave, a Fool let him be, To keep such a stir for Liberty, When the Rump sets all it's Tenants Free, Which, &c.

He that could imitate sounds in a fart, And speak from behind with a wondrous Art, Were he living now, should take Lenthals part, Which, &c.

And then a Fart for the Cities forces, For Monk that's coming with all his Horses, And a T — for Fairfax too, that worse is, Which, &c.

A Parson once in a frolick Divine, Exhausted Glasses, twenty and nine, For Turkey's Rump in Canary wine, Which, &c.

And sure he received a Revelation, When to preach he left his first Vocation, That a Rump in time should rule the Nation, Which, &c.

Montelions Diall's a drolling Mock, With a stick in the Countrey Fellows dock, And fitter now than the Pallace clock, VVhich, &c.

Morlay a joynt of the Rump grew bigg, And swelling; but politick Haslerigg, Ha's sent him for Physick to Doctor Trigg, Which, &c.

Mad Vane was Anointed King, and said, He received a Crown that burden'd his Head, For which the Rump sent him home to Bed, Which, &c.

The Abjuring Oath made the Speaker Sick, Which Haslerigg taking in the Nick, For his fain'd one show'd him a real Trick, VVhich, &c.

Thus, what for aliment is unfit, The Tail by a vertue guiding it, Excludes, and leaves it self beshit, VVhich, &c.

Let no man pretend any Cause, Against the Rump to open his Jawes, For it rules by the Fundamental Laws, VVhich no body can deny.

A proper New Ballad on the Old Parlia∣ament, or the Second Part of Knave out of Doors.

To the Tune of

Hei ho my hony, My heart shall never rue, Four and twenty now for your Mony, And yet a hard pennyworth too.

GOod morrow my Neighbours all, What news is this I heard tell? As I past through VVestminster-hall, By the house that's near to Hell: They told me John Lambert was there,

With his Bears, and deeply did swear: (As Cromwell had done before) Those Vermine should fit there no more. Sing hi ho Will. Lenthall, VVho shall our General be? For the House to the Devil is sent all, And follow gid faith mun ye. Sing hi ho, &c.

Then Muse strike up a Sonnet, Come piper and play us a spring; For now I think upon it, These Rs turn'd out their King. But now it must come about, That once again they must turn out: And not without Justice and Reason, That every one home to his Prison. Sing hi ho Harry Martin, A Burgess of the Bench, There's nothing here is certain, You must back and leave your VVench. Sing hi ho, &c.

He there with the buffle head, Is called Lord, and of the same house, Who (as I have heard it said) Was chastis'd by his Lady-Spouse. Because he run at sheep, She and her Maid gave him the Whip; And beat his head so addle; You'd think he had a knock in the Cradle, Sing hi ho Lord Mounson, You ha' got a park of the Kings, One day you'l hang like a hounson,

For this and other things. Sing hi ho, &c.

It was by their Masters order At first together they met, Whom piously they did murder, And since by their own they did set. The cause of this Disaster, Is 'cause they were false to their Master. Nor can their Gensd'armes blame, For serving them the same. Sing hi ho Sir Arthur, No more in the house you shall prate; For all you kept such a quarter, You are out of the Councell of State. Sing hi ho, &c.

Old Noll gave them once a purge (Forgetting Occidisti,) (The Furies be his scourge) So of the cure mist he. And yet the drug he well knew it, For he gave it to Dr. Huit. Had he given it them he had done it, And they had not turn'd out his son yet. Sing hi ho brave Dick, L. Hall and Lady Joan, Who did against Loyalty kick, Is now for a New-years-gift gone. Sing hi ho, &c.

For had old Noll been alive, He had pull'd them out by the ears. Or else had fired their Hive,

And kickt him down the stairs; Because they were so bold, To vex his righteous soul. When he so deeply had swore, That there they should never fit more. But hi ho Nol's dead, And stunk long since above ground, Though lapt in spices and lead, That cost us many a pound. Sing hi ho, &c.

Indeed Brother Burgess your Ling Did never stink half so bad; Nor did your Habberdin, When it no Pease-straw had. Ye were both chose together, 'Cause ye wore stuff-cloaks in hard weather. And Cambridge needs would have A Burgess, Fool, and Knave. Sing hi ho J. Lowry, Concerning Abberdine, No Member spake before ye, Yet ye neer spoke again. Sing hi ho my hony, My heart shall never rue, Here's all pickt ware for your mony, And yet a hard penyworth too.

Ned Prideaux he went post To tell the Protector the news, That Fleetwood ruled the rost, Having tane off Dicks shooes. And that he did believe, Lambert would him deceive;

As he his brother had gull'd, And Cromwell Fairfax bull'd. Sing hi ho the Attorney Was still at your command, In flames together burn ye, Still dancing hand in hand. Sing hi ho, &c.

Who's that that would hide his face? And his neck from the coller pull? He must appear in his place, If his Cap be made of Wool. Who is it with a vengeance? It is the good Lord Saint Johns! Who made Gods House to fall, To build his own withall. Sing hi ho who comes there? Who 'tis I must not say; But by this dark-lanthorn I swear He's as good in the night as day. Sing hi ho, &c.

Edge Brethren, room for one, That looks as big as the best; 'Tis pitty to leave him alone, For he is as good as the rest. No Picklock of the Laws, He builds among the Daws. If you ha' any more Kings to murder, For a President look no further. Sing hi ho J. Bradshaw, In blood none further engages; The Devil from whom he had's law, Will shortly pay him his wages. Sing hi ho, &c.

Next Peagoose Wild come in, To shew your weezle face, And tell us Burleys sin, Whose blood bought you your place. When Loyalty was a crime, He liv'd in a dangerous time, Was forc'd to pay his neck, To make you Baron of the Cheque. Sing hi ho Jack Straw, We'l put it in the Margent, 'Twas not for Justice or Law That you were made a Sergeant. Sing hi ho, &c.

Noll serv'd not Satan faster, Nor with him did better accord; For he was my good Master, And the devil was his good Lord. Both Slingsby, Gerrard, and Hewit, Were sure enough to go to it, According to his intent, That chose me President. Sing hi ho Lord Lisle, Sure Law had got a wrench, And where was Justice the while, When you sate on the Bench? Sing hi ho, &c.

Next comes the good Lord Keble, Of the triumvirate Of the seal, in Law but feeble, Though on the Bench he sate. For when one puts him a case, I wish him out of the place;

And if it were not a sin, An abler Lawyer in. Sing give the seal about, I'de have it so the rather, Because we might get out, The Knave my Lord my Father. Sing hi ho, &c.

Pull out the other there, It is Nathaniel Fines, (Who Bristol lost for fear) We'l not leave him behind's; 'Tis a Chip of that good old block, Who to Loyalty gave the first knock. Then stole away to Lundey, Whence the foul fiend fetches him one day. Sing hi ho Canting Fines, You and the rest to mend 'um, Would you were served in your kinds, With an ense rescidendum. Sing hi ho, &c.

He that comes now down stairs, Is Lord Chief Justice Glin. If no man for him cares, He cares as little again. The reason too I know't, He help to cut Straffords throat, And take away his life, Though with a cleaner knife. Sing hi ho Britain bold, Straight to the bar you get, Where it is not so cold As where your Justice set. Sing hi ho, &c.

He that shall next come in, Was long of the Council of State; Though hardly a hair on his chin, When first in the Council he sate: He was sometime in Italy, And learned their fashions prettily Then came back to's own Nation To help up Reformation. Sing hi ho Harry Nevil, I prethee be not too rash, With Atheism to court the Devil, You'r too bold to be his Bardash. Sing hi ho, &c.

He there with ingratitude blackt, Is one Cornelius Holland: Who but for the Kings house lackt, Wherewith to appease his Colon. The case is well amended, Since that time, as I think, When at Court gate he tended, With a little stick and a short link. Sing hi ho Cornelius, Your zeal cannot delude us, The reason pray now tell us, Why thus you plaid the Judas? Sing hi ho, &c.

At first he was a Grocer, Who now we Major call: Although you would think no sir, If you saw him in White-hall. Where he has great command, And looks for cap in hand;

And if our eggs be not addle, Shall be of the next new Moddle. Sing hi ho Mr. Saloway, The Lord in Heaven doth know When that from Heaven you shall away, Where to the Devil you'll go. Sing hi ho, &c.

Little Hill since set in the House, Is to a Mountain grown: Nor that which brought forth the Mouse, But thousands the year of his own, The purchase that I mean, Where else but at Taunton Dean? Five thousand pound per annum, A sum not known to his Granam. Sing hi the Good Old Cause, 'Tis old although not true, You have got more by that then the Laws, So a Good Old Cause to you. Sing hi ho, &c.

Master Cecil pray come behind, Because on your own accord The other House you declin'd, You shall be no longer a Lord. The reason as I guesse You silently did confesse, Such Lords deserved ill, The other House to fill. Sing hi ho Mr. Cecil, Your honour now is gone, Such Lords are not worth a whistle, We made better Lords of our own. Sing hi ho, &c.

Luke Robinson shall go before ye, That snarling Northern tike, Be sure he'll not adore ye, For honour he doth not like. He cannot honour inherit, And he knows he can never merit: And therefore he cannot bear it, That any one else should wear it: Sing hi ho envious lown, You're of the Beagles kind, Who alwayes barked at the Moon, Because in the dark it shin'd. Sing hi ho, &c.

'Tis this that vengeance rouses, That while you make long prayers, You eat up widdows houses, And drank the Orphans tears. Long time you kept a great noise, Of God and the Good Old Cause; But if God to you be so kind, Then I am of the Indians mind, Sing hi ho Sir Harry, We see by your demeanor, If longer here you tarry, You'll be Sir Harry Vane Senior. Sing hi ho, &c.

Now, if your zeal do warm ye, Pray loud for fairer weather, Swear to live and die with the Army, For these Birds are flown together. The House is turned out a door, (And I think it was no sin too)

If we take them there any more, We'll throw the House out of the window. Bing hi ho Tom Scot, You lent the Devil your hand: I wonder he helpt you not, But suffer'd you to be trapand. Sing hi ho, &c.

They're once again conduced, And we freed from the evil To which we long were used, God bless us next from the Devil! If they had not been outed, The Army had been routed, And then this rotten Rump, Had sat untill the last trump. ••ut hi ho Lambert's here, The Protectors Instrument bore: And many there be that swear His Lady had done it before. Sing hi ho, &c.

Come here then honest Peters, Say Grace for the second course: So long as these your betters, Must patience have upon force. Long time ye kept a great noise, With God and the Good Old Cause, But if God own such as these, Then where's the Devils fees. Sing hi ho Hugo, I hear thou art not dead, Where now to the Devil will you go, Your Patrons being fled.

Sing hi ho my hony, My heart shall never rue: Four and twenty now for a penny, And into the bargain HUGH.

A City Ballad.

To the Tune of Down in a Bottom.

1

SInce the Realm lost its head All our trading is dead, And our Money and Credit is flown; We have try'd many new, But find it too true, That no Head fits so well as our own.

2.

The Drum and the Trump Devour'd all to the Rump, And then they drank healths for that, But that yielding no grease, They next came to squeeze The City because it was fat.

3.

The City declar'd That they were afeard, And they their Militia would settle; But, except the Boyes, They made only a noyse, Their Votes were in dock out nettle.

4.

The Mayor and his Peers Durst not for their ears Assert the Militia's power: Though once he seem'd for it, He does now abhor it, And Revolted in lesse then an hour.

5.

'Tis that cursed wedge That took off his edge, For he looks like a jolly Clubber; If he had but the life And spirit of his Wife, He would not lye still like a Lubber.

6.

Our pair of new Sheriffs Hang by them like sleeves, Their valour will ne're be their sin; So they be high and rich They do not care which Side looses, if they may but win.

7.

That Earwigg that doth write Himself Lord and Knight, (And is one as much as the other) Doth so still undermine, That he spoyles our design, By the help of old Besse his Brother.

8.

He cares not a pin, So as he may get in, Who ere he keep out of his right, He'll turn and return, But be hang'd ere he'll burn, For he dares neither suffer nor fight.

9.

His Ambition him thrust Into a Pageant at first, And up to the Pulpit next; And then into the Chair Of our City Lord Mayor, Which he better improv'd then his Text.

10.

O there did he squeeze Out the Fines and the Fees, Nor the Church nor the Laity 'scapes, Had he staid another Year, At which he did lear, He had prest us like Canaans Grapes.

11.

There's just such another May well be call'd Brother, A Collonel stout, and a Knight, And an Alderman too, As now Aldermen go, That will neither take wrong nor do right.

12.

We ne're yet did know That he durst meet a foe, And his pale colour speaks him afraid Yet in story we read He did one valiant deed, Which was to his Masters Maid.

13.

Then to get an Estate, He found out a Mate, Which was an old Ʋsurers Daughter, Supplanted the Son, And then he begun To be Wealthy, and Worshipfull after.

14.

There are more besides him Stands for the back Limb, A crue of such Harlotry tools, That who's not more blind Then Fortune, may find That he raises some besides Fools.

15

Some are wary grave Sirs, In their Chains and their Furs, That dare not declare their opinion, If hang'd they were all, One tear would not fall Without the help of an Onion.

16.

There's one kin to a Miter, That's no Presbyter, But loyal and honest and free, Had we took down the Mayor, And plac'd him in the Chair, Up some body had gone and we.

17.

There's another, a Wit, Was for all he could get, But now wheels about and is true; He may win all our hearts Would he use his best parts With our foes as he did with the Jew.

18.

The rest of the Court Are a mixt colourd sort, Rank Presbyter, rank Independent, They do still so prevail For the Westminster tayle, 'Tis feard we shall ne're have an end on't.

19.

But our Counsel of Commons Are valiant old Romans, And stand for our peace and freedom, If that Dog that sells Leather, And the Salesman together Would either be honest or be dumb.

20.

But yet we cann't see Any reason why we Should all be so much at their becks, If we chains must forbear, Pray why should they wear A Militia about their necks?

21

Our Town Clerk we took, Has a serious look, And his silence did shew him a wit, But we discern him no more Than the Court heretofore Did that sullen Mask which he writ.

22.

The late Petticoat Squire From his shop mounted higher To the Sword, and from that he did start By his mony and grace To a Remembrances place Now reports when the Rump let a fart.

23.

Their Chaplain that praid Now recants what he said, And walks by a perfecter light: The cause why he straid Was he wincked when he praid, Now his eyes are open he's right.

24.

What ere the Cause be We clearly may see, No good thing propos'd for the City's, But mens policy bends It to their private ends, That 'tis spoyl'd by the close Committee.

25.

And it needs must be so, For we all do well know 'Tis for wealth men are put into office; And he that has store Domineers or'e the poor, Whether Fool, Knave, Elder, or Novice.

26.

We our Members have sent, But the quick Parliament Had first sent their Members we find, Yet no body knows, With which side Monk will close Or will stand for before, or behind.

27.

Hee's a Souldier no doubt Both skilfull and stout But had need be more than a Stalian, If his love should extend To the hindermost end, And use us like Italian.

28.

A thousand a year If he could but tell where, They thought would have made him to mind 'em; But they promise still, As Diego made his will,

Great things, but none knows where to find 'em.

29.

In this prodigal trick They have out-done old Nick, For what he did give he did show. Their title's the same, And so is their aime For ought any man doth know.

30.

Let it go as it will, We are Citizens still, And free to this side, or that We may prate, and may Vote, But when it comes to't, We'l be true to no body knows what.

31.

But this we see plain 'Twas for honour and gain That we at the first did fall out, And were not publick lands Got in private mens hands The times would soon turn about.

33.

And now we do find, These Saints in their kind, Those are mad that to aid them in flocks come, And he that will fight To keep us all from our right Shall be chronicled for a Coxcomb.

The RUMP Dockt.

TIll it be understood What is under Monck's Hood, The City dare not shew his horns: Till ten dayes be out, The Speaker's sick of the Gout, And the Rump doth sit upon thorns.

If Monck be turn'd Scot, The Rump goes to pot, And the Good Old Cause will miscarry; Like coals out of embers, Revive the Old Members: Off goes the Rump, like Dick and Harry.

Then In come the Lords, Who drew Parliament Swords, With Robes lined through with Ermin; But Peers without Kings Are very useless things, And their Lordships counted but Vermin.

Now Morley and Fagg May be put in a bagg, And that doughty Man Sir Arthur, In despair of his Foil, With Alderman Hoyle, Will become a Knight of the Garter.

That Knave in Grain Sir Harry Vane

His Case then most mens is sadder; There is little hope He can scape the rope, For the Rump turned him o're the Ladder.

That precious Saint Scot Shall not be forgot, According to his own desires; Instead of Neck-verse Shall have it writ on his Herse, Here hangs one of the Kings Tryers.

Those nine sons of Mars, That whipt the Rumps Arse, I mean the Commanders War-lick; If the Rump smell strong With hanging too long, Shall serve to stuff it with Garlick.

That parcel of man In length but a span, Whose wifes Eggs alwaies are addle Must quit the Life-guard, As he did when scar'd By Lambert out of the saddle.

Lambert may now turn Florist, Being come off the poorest That ever did Man of the Sword: The Rump let a Fart Which took away his heart, And made him a Equire of a Lord.

His Cheshire glory Is a pitifull story, There the Saints triumpht without battle; But now Monck and his Friers Have driven him into the Briers, As he did Booth and his Cattle.

For the rest of the Rump, Together in a Lump, 'Tis too late to cry, Peccavi; Ye have sinn'd all or most Against the Holy Ghost, And therefore the Devil must have ye.

But now valiant City, Whether must thy Ditty Be sung in Verse, or in Prose, For till the Rump stunk For fear of Monck, Thy Militia durst not shew its Nose.

Base Cowards and Knaves, That first made us Slaves, Very Rascals from the beginning; Onely unto Moncks Sword The Nation must afford The honour of bringing the King in.

Arsy Versy, or The Second Martyrdom of the RUMP.

To the Tune of The Blind Beggar of Bednall-green.

1.

MY Muse, to prevent lest an after-clap come, If the winde should once more turn about for the Bum, As a preface of honour, and not as a frump, First with a Sirreverence ushers the Rump,

2.

I shall not dispute whether Long-tails of Kent, Or Papist this name of disgrace did invent; Whose Legend of lies, do defame us the more, Hath entail'd on us Rumps ne're heard on before.

3.

But now on its Pedigree longer to think, (For the more it is stir'd the more it will stink) 'Tis agreed the Rumps first report in the Town Did arise from the wooden invention of Brown.

4.

Old Oliver's nose had taken in snuff, When it sate long ago, some unsavoury puff; Then up went the Rump, and was ferkt to the quick, But it setled in spight of the teeth of poor Dick.

5.

Then the Knight of the Pestle, King Lambert, and Vane,

With a Scepter of Iron did over it reign: But the Rump soon re-setled, and to their dis∣grace, Like Excrements voided them out of the place.

6.

It did now, like a Truant's well-disciplin'd Bum, With the rod of affliction harder become; Or else like the Image in Daniel it was, Whose Head was of Gold, but whose Tayl was of brass.

7.

It endured the first heat, and proved no starter, But sung in the midst of the flames like a Martyr, And whisk'd the Tayl like a terrible Farter, And sounded most chearfully, Vive Sir Arthur.

8.

But the next fire Ordeal put into a dump, Sir Orlando the furious chief joynt of the Rump, That he looked like the picture of Richard the Third▪ Or like an ejected and frost-bitten T—

9

'Tis said that his Durindana he drew, And a Wight on the Road most manfully slew? But, pardon'd by Charles, made good what they tell us, How ill 'tis to save a thief from the Gallows.

10.

Being now to be burn'd, he soon did expire, For he was but a flash, and would quickly take fire, So that their fewel upon him to spend, What was it but Coals to Newcastle to send?

11.

To bring 'em to th' stake as in order they lye, Harry Martyn the next place must occupy;

'Twas expected in vain he should blaze, for he swore, That he had been burnt to the stumps before.

12.

Tom Scot for the Bum most stifly did stand▪ Though once by a Bum he was fouly trapand; But time and his office of Secretary Had learnt him his Business more private to car∣ry

13.

Some thought he arriv'd at his dignity first, By being so well in iniquity verst, The mystery of which he hath practis'd of late In his Function, which was, to be Baud to the State.

14.

Hob Morley in silence did suffer the losse Of his Rump, and with patience took up the Crosse, That to see him so sing'd and so scorcht you would swear No Camel more meekly his burden could bear.

15.

The Speaker was thought to the Rump to be true, Because like a Fart at first he burnt blew; But streight he was cunningly seen to retire, For ••ear to endanger the Rolls in the fire.

16.

St. John a mortal of flesh and of blood, Swore by St. * 1.1 Peter the example was good: So facing about and shifting his station, He turn'd o're a new leaf in St. Johns Revelations.

17.

Harry Nevil that looks like a Mahomets pigeon, Accused to be of a State-mans Religion, Is left to his choyce what processe hee'll have, To be burnt for an Atheist, or hang'd for a Knave.

18.

Now stop thy Nose reader, for Atkins doth come, That shame to the Breeches as well as the Bum. To wish he was burnt were an idle desire, For he comes provided to shit out the fire.

19.

But least he without a Companion should be, Here's Lisle that comes next stinks worser then he; So fouly corrupt, you may plac't in your Creed, Such a Rump could alone such a Fistula breed.

20.

Poor Ludlow was bogg'd in Ireland of late, And to purge himself came to the Rump of the State; But gravely they told him he had acted amiss, When he sought to betray the Rump with a kiss.

21.

Ned Harby was sure an herb John in the pot, Yet could he not scape the disasterous lot: Scarce Church'd of the Gout was the trusty old Squire, But he hopt from the F••ying-pan into the fire.

22

Robin Andrews was laid on last as they tell us, For a log to keep down the rest of his fellows; Though he spent on the City, like one of the Roysters, Each morning his * 1.2 two pence in Sack and in Oysters.

23

Next Praise-God, although of the Rump he was none, Was for his Petition burnt to the Bare-bone: So Praise-God & Rump, like true Josephs together, Did suffer; but Praise-God lost the more * 1.3 leather:

24

There's Lawson another dag-lock of the tayle, That the water to avoid, to the water did sayle; And in Godly simplicity means (as they say) To manage the Stern, though the Rump's out of play.

25.

But Overton most with wonder doth seize us, By securing of Hull for no lesse than Christ Jesus, Hoping (as it by the story appears) To be there his Lieutenant for one thousand years.

26.

Lord Mounson? Oh Venus! what do you here? I little thought you were a Rumper I swear: But an impotent Lord will thus far avail, He will serve for a Cloak to cover the tail.

27.

To burnish his Star Mr. Salisburie's come, With the Atmos of gold that fall from the Bum; Sure 'twas but a Meteor, for I must tell ye, It smelt as 'twere turning to th' Aldermans jelly.

28.

Brother Pembroke comes last, and does not disdain Tho' despis'd by the world, to bear up the train: But after New-lights so long he did run, That they brought him to * 1.4 Bethlehem before they had done.

29.

Thus the Foxes of Sampson that carried a brand In their tails, to destroy and to burn up the land; In the flames they had kindled themselves to expire, And the Dee'l give them Brimstone unto their fire.

A Christmass Song, when the RUMP was first dissolved.

To the Tune of I tell the Dick.

THis Christmass time, 'tis fit that we Should Feast and Sing and merry be It is a time of mirth; For never since the world began, More joyfull news was brought to man, Then at our Saviours birth.

But such have been these times of late, That Holy dayes are out of date, And holynesse to boot; For they that do despise, and scorn To keep the day that Christ was born, Want holynesse no doubt.

That Parliament that took away The observation of that day, We know it was not free; For if it had, such Acts as those Had ne're been seen in verse or prose, You may conclude with me.

'Twas that Assembly did maintain 'Twas Law to kill their Soveraign, Who by that Law must dye, Though Gods anointed ones are such, Which Subjects should not dare to touch, Much lesse to Crucifie.

'Twas that which turn'd our Bishops out Of house and home both branch and root, And gave no reason why▪ And all our Clergy did expell, That would not do like that Rebell. This no man can deny.

It was that Parliament that took Out of our Churches our Service Book, A Book without compare; And made Gods house, (to all our griefs) That house of Prayer, a Deu of Thiefs, Both here and every where.

They had no head for many years Nor heart (I mean the House of Peers) And yet it did not dyes Of these long since it was bereft, And nothing but the Tayle was left, You know't as well as I.

And in this Tayle there was a tongue, Lenthall I mean, whose fame hath wrung In Country and in City; Not for his worth or eloquence, ••t for a Rebell to his Prince, And neither wise nor witty.

This Speakers words must needs be winde, Since they proceeded from behind; Besides, you may remember, From thence no Act could be discreet, Nor could the sense o'th' House be sweet, Where Atkins was a Member.

This tale's now done, the Speakers dumb, Thanks to the Trumpet and the Drum; And now I hope to see A Parliament that will restore All things that were undone before, That we may Christians be.

Bum-Fodder: or, Waste-Paper, proper to wipe the Nations RUMP with▪ or your Own.

FRee Quarter in the North is grown so scarce, That Lambert with all his men of Mars, Have submitted to kiss the Parliaments Arse, Which no body can deny.

If this should prove true (as we do suppose) 'Tis such a wipe as the RƲMP and all's Foes Could never give to Old Olivers Nose, Wich no body can deny.

There's a Proverb come to my mind not unfit, When the Head shall see the RƲMP all be-shit, Sure this must prove a most lucky hit, Which, &c.

There is another proverb which every Noddy, Will jeer the RƲMP with, and cry Hoddy-doddy Here's a Parliament all Arse and no Body, Which, &c.

Tis a likely matter the World will mend When so much blood and Treasure we spend, And yet begin at the wrong end, VVhich, &c.

We have been round, and round about twirl'd And through much sad confusion hurl'd, And now we are got into the Arse of the World, Which, &c.

But 'tis not all this our courage will quail, Or make the brave Sea-men to the RƲMP strike sail, If we can have no head we will have no tail, Which, &c.

Then let a Free Parliament be turn'd trump, And ne're think any longer the Nation to mump With your pocky, perjur'd, damn'd old RƲMP, Which, &c.

But what doth Rebell RƲMP make here, When their proper place (as W— P— doth swear) ••t the Devils Arse in Derb••shire. Which, &c.

Then thither let us send them a tilt, For if they stay longer, they will us beguilt With a Government that is loose in the hilt, Which, &c.

You'l find it set down in the Harrington's Moddle Whose Brains a Commonwealth doth so coddle, That 't has made a Rotation in his Noddle, Which, &c.

'Tis a pittifull passe you men of the Sword Have brought your selves to, that the Rum••'s your Lord, And Arsie Ʋersie must be the word, Which, &c.

Our Powder and Shot you did freely spend, That the Head you might from the Body rend, And now you are at Wars with the But-end, Which, &c.

Old Martin and Scot have all such an itch, That they will with the Rump try t'other twitch, And Lenthal can grease a fat Sow in the Britch, Which, &c.

That's a thing would please the Butchers and Cooks, To see this stinking Rump quite off the hooks, And Jackdaw go to pot with the Rooks, Which, &c.

This froward Sir John (who the Rump did ne're fail) Against Charles Stuart in a Speech did rail,

But men say it was without head or tayl, Which, &c.

Just such is the Government we live under, Of a Parliament thrice cut in sunder; And this hath made us the Worlds wonder, Which, &c.

Old Noll when we talkt of Magna Charta, Did prophesie well we should all smart-a; And now we have found his Rump's Magna Fart-a, Which, &c.

But I cannot think Monck (though a Souldier and Sloven) To be kin to the Fiend whose feet are cloven, Nor will creep i' th' Rumps Arse to bake in their Oven, Which, &c.

Then since he is coming, e'ne let him come From the North to the South, with Sword and Drum, To beat up the Quarters of this lewd Bum, Which, &c.

And now of this Rump I'le say no more, Nor had I begun, but upon this score, There was something behind, which was not be∣fore. Which, &c.

A Vindication of the RUMP: or The RUMP Re-advanced.

To the Tune of Ʋp tails all.

FUll many a Ballad hath been Penn'd, And scoffing Poem writ Against the RUMP; but I intend To speak in Praise of it. Come Jove and Apollo, come Venu•• and Mars, And lend your assistance: to speak of the A — Will require a prodigious wit,

There's scarce a Lady to be found That loves either Pear or Plum One half so well, if she be sound, As tabering at her B — It may be, you'l say, I'm wide of the Case, Since that Musick's made in a distant place: I answer the bredth of your Thumb.

When Alderman Atkins did bemar His Hose through a Panick fear, And Captain Rea that man of War, Oh! what a Hogo was there? If you ask me, what praise is in this? at a word, The Captain so senced himself by a T— That his Enemies could not come near.

There is not a Lawyer in Country or Town, Whose Rhetorick doth prevail, Although he hath purchas'd Fee simple by th' Gown,

But loves to be dealing in Tail; And I may well swear by Apollo or Mars, That at a Place called, the Oven's Arse, Oft times I have drunk good Ale.

And when you are dallying with a young Maid, Would you not her Buttocks bethump? And I have been often well apaid With a Goose both fat and plump: The Body being eaten, we strive for the Tayl, Each man with his Kan'kn of nappy brown Ale, Doth box it about for the RƲMP.

The RƲMP of a Coney I often have seen Most piteously claw'd by a Ferret, And a Capons Rump is a bit for a Queen, Although she's a Person of merit. In preaching and praying who spends the whole day, At night keeps a Rump wherewithall for to play, Be he never so full of the spirit.

I wonder who first call'd the Parliament RƲMP, Some say, that it was Jack Hobby, And some, fiery P — good wits will jump; Now I write not this to bob ye, But only to tell ye that good Mr. P — For all that he's cropt, yet he could not get in, But was fain to remain in the Lobby▪

The other day I was going in haste, (To think on't it grieves my heart) I saw a poor Fellow all nak'd to the waste, And whipt at the Arse of a Cart:

His Rump ('tis true) suffer'd the Rout. But I would Fain know who it was, that durst be so hold, As to call Mr. Speaker Sir F —

He might as well have stiled him Anus, Since he was the mouth of the RƲMP. As cunning a Fox as Romes Sejanus: But I do not love for to frump; Or else I could tell ye, my Friends, to an Ace, What good can acrew to the Land by a Mace, As long as the Knave's the great'st Trump,

Our zealous sticklers for Reformation Will edifie on the Rump of a Sister, And it will never grow out of fashion To Physick the Tayl with a Glister. But beware that Monk doth not come with a bit∣ter Purge to the Rump which will make her beshit her For she hath already bepist her.

The RUMP roughly but righteously hand∣led: In a New Ballad.

To the Tune of Cook Laurel.

1.

MOre Sacks to the Mill, here comes a fresh Wit, That means without Mittens (as you shall see) To handle a RUMP that's all to beshit, Sirreverence of the Company.

2.

And let other sinners that love a whole skin, Keep out of my reach for fear of a Stone; For I'm like the Hang-man, who (when's hand was in) Said he had as good truss up forty as one.

3.

First I'le tell you whence this Rump-regnant came, When England to Faction and Schism was bent, By means of long peace to settle the same, Our noble King summon'd a Parliament.

4.

A Parliament which may make old men grieve, And Children that ne're shall be born com∣plain; I mean such as dy'd before they did live, Like Harrington's Rota or th' Engin of Vane.

5.

This Parliament, like a wilde skitish Tit, Unman'd and unback'd, and unapt to obey, Would let neither Prince, Peer, nor Prelate sit, Yet stammel'd nos'd OLIVER smelt out a way.

6.

With Pistol and Musquet he brought the Beast under, And aw'd it so much, and so far did prevail, That tamely he dockt it, and (to all mens won∣der) He cast off the Colt and sadled the Tayl:

7

Which shortly began to kick at's Command, And restive it grew, and left its true pacing,

Which made him resolve on his own Leggs to stand, And turn the RUMP out of the stable a gra∣sing.

8.

The Red-coats, with breath like my Lady's Bumblast, This Parliament-snuff blew twice out and in; But North and West-winds will so out it at last, That nought but Hell fire shall light it agen.

9.

Though now they tempt Monk with a 1000. per annum, In hopes that to worship, his face hee'l fall flat on; Yet he's wise enough to resist and disdain 'em, And cry, Get behind me, thou Bob-tail of Satan.

10.

Right pat with St. George's this Story will jump, Poor England's the Damsel appointed for slaugh∣ter, And Monk the St. George to kill Dragon RƲMP, And safely restore to the King his fair Daugh∣ter.

11.

The Rump thus in grosse no more shall be plaid on, But now I will whet my Pen (if it please ye) To joynt it, & shew what foul parts it is made on, God grant that our Stomachs prove not over-queasie.

12.

Here's Lenthal once Mouth to the Parliaments mind,

Though he at length acted the Fundament's part, Whose Speech was not breaking of Silence but Winde, And's giving the Thanks of the House, but a Fart.

13.

But many I find this Opinion are firm in, That he has no real distemper at all, But feigns it; and like a Prophetical Vermin, Runs from an old House that is ready to fall.

14.

If Ludlow the state of Grace he had been in, And kept himself safe fro' th' Committee of Safety, For's Fathers sake, Deputy Fart he had been, Instead of the Frost, they call Say the crafty.

15.

Next comes the Rump's Gad-fly, the Jehu-like driver, King-abjuring ARTHƲR; Sir, you (if I ken you) O' th' Bishop's Vriah-like fall were Contriver, To get the fair Bersheba of their Revenue.

16.

But 'twas a more carnal concupiscence, That at Bristol-Vicaridge set you a neighing, Which you enjoy'd and occupy'd in the sence Which puts pretty Maids to pishing and fying.

17.

Nay you like the Trojan-Adulterer swore, To those that once saved you from the King's Fury, That rather than Helen of Duresm restore, Their Troynovant in its own ashes you'd bury.

18.

But I dare no farther his passion provoke For fear of a prejudice which it may do me For with his own Choller should he chance to choke, The Hang-man in Action of Trespasse might sue me.

19.

Then have at Sir Harry the Int'rest Refiner, Who's not of the Church, but Society of JE∣SUS, And can make Divinity's Self-Diviner, And model new Heavens, and new Earths to please us.

20.

'Twas he that injected the sublimd matter To late Lady Lambert, and she to th' Squire, Which made him Protector, and Parliament-ha∣ter, And to be Fift Monarch devoutly aspire.

21.

Like Grub from Sheeps tails, since the Rump doth him throw, He'll creep to some placket of Sanctification, And come forth a Flesh-flye next Summer, and blow New Maggots in's Church, of more whimsical fashion.

22.

Me••hinks in his eyes the waters do gather, As if the Lord Straffords Death troubled his sight; Perhaps he repents and means (like his Father) Ev'n in his own Garter to do his Ghost right.

23.

There goes the twice treacherous Banquerout Salloway

From Westminster Wolves, to Tow'r Lions bound, Cause he from one Treason to another did fall away, And will fall again, but not quite to the ground.

24.

The next is a Politick Pen-man that got-land By's Knavery more then his Birth, and 'tis his-hope That Lambeth shall ever and ever be Scot-land, And seat of an Arch-one, but not of a Bishop.

25.

Here's Nevil (who to be made in Scot's stead A State-Secretary) did practise a New art, To th' Office, (by Letters unto the House read) He courted himself in the name of Charles Stuart▪

26.

Now see with a POX, where Martin comes on, The seed of corrupt and sinfull Loyns, Who a worthy had been, if as near Solomon In Wisdome, as number of Concubines.

27.

If in utter darknesse there should be a failing Of Horror, the Rump may furnish it with Squire Fleetwood to help out the weeping and wailing, And Sir William Brereton for gnashing of teeth.

28.

Now Mildmay, and Whitlock, and Lisle I might call in, And Master Lord Salisbury (from Noble house Who seems not descended, so much as down faln) And others, which well may serve a fresh Muse.

29.

And now the Rump's set in the Salt, and Monck Hath offer'd full fairly his own for to make it, But finding himself by the Devil out-drunk, He honestly cryes, Nay then let him take it.

30.

But for 'em when hence they go, (such were their follies) Above nor beneath, there no quiet place is, King Charles in Heaven, in Hell Tyrant NOL is, Who (as God us'd Fleetwood) will spit in their faces.

31.

Now mark what sweet Morsells Hell swallowed of late, There's Cromwell, and Prideaux, and Bradshaw, and theres He that made Old Nick (when he enter'd his Gate) Cry, Oh my Bon Pride, are you there with your Bears?

32.

And now I no longer will rake in this sink, But shortly the RƲMP is for Tyburn, and then I'le tell you more of it; but you (as I think) Do now stop your Noses, and I'le stop my Pen.

The She-Citizens Delight.

To the Tune of Cuckolds all a Row.

YOu Cow-hearted Citizens What is your damn'd pretence, To keep your selves within your beds▪

And not fight for your Prince; Whose Majesty should you behold, Your shame will breed your woe, And then like fools you will cry out▪ Cuckolds all a row.

There's some of you whose Bishops Lands Do so much clog their heels, That now they cannot stir, whereas Else would they run on wheels: But yet I hope a time will come When you shall be made know, And told unto their faces that You'r Cuckolds all a row.

But yet for one most reverent Act You are to be commended, That through your Rams-Head zeal you have Your Brother Rump Befriended, To seat them in the Parliament House, Their wisdomes forth to show, But they and you are all alike Cuckolds all a row.

But I advise you set this RUMP In salt for fear of stinking, 'Twill fall unto the Devils share, Because 'tis his by drinking; In spight of all their Acts and Laws Hee'l car' them down below, Then Hell and City all alike Cuckolds all a row.

Alas poor Lambert is undone, And now he may go Preach, Since 'tis the English Al-a-mode For every Rogue to Teach; He'le nose it bravely in a Tub, And let his Brethren know That they are Damn'd unlesse they dip Cuckolds all a row.

But where's your mighty Fleetwood now, His honor'•• worn to th' stump, He'le serve Ambassador to hell To make room for the Rump, And thus King-killers one by one Shall to the Devil goe Upon the City Asses pack Cuckolds all a row.

And now Cow-hearts look to your shops, The Red-coats will you fright, And plunder you because they know Your hornes hang in your light; Not matter, for you have been the cause Of all the Kingdoms woe, And do deserve still to be call'd Cuckolds all a row.

But if that you would honest grow, And do a glorious thing, Which is to rouse and take your Armes, And fight for Charles our King; Which Act your Credits will regain, And all the World shall know That you shall then no more be call'd Cuckolds all a row.

The RUMP Carbonado'd: or A New BALLAD.

To the Tune of the Black-smith.

LEnd me your ears, not cropt, and I'le sing Of an hideous Monster, or Parliament thing, That City and Country doth wofully wring, VVhich no body can deny.

Take care that no Sectary be in this place, For if you offend the least Babe of Grace, The Rump will be ready to fly in your face, VVhich, &c.

They fram'd a Remonstrance, to set all on fire, Which took with the People, as they did desire, And forc'd them to Covenant that they would conspire, VVhich, &c.

No sooner exalted was Essex his horn, But God's law, and man's too the Cuckold did scorn, To ruine our Country this Rebel was born, Which, &c.

Take Warwick along, if company you lack, No Admiral like an old Puritan Jack, A verier Knave you cann't find in the Pack, Which, &c.

These arm'd with Commissions by Sea and by Land,

Did send forth their forces the King to with∣stand, Till of all that was good they had soon made an hand, Which, &c.

In glory and wealth, we once so abounded, And were in Religion so thoroughly grounded, That none could have shatter'd us thus but the Roundhead, Which, &c.

Which pluck'd down the King, the Church and the Laws, To set up an Idol, then Nick-nam'd the Cause, Like Bell and Dragon to gorge their own Maws, Which, &c.

They banisht all Royallists out of the Line, And scarce would endure to hear any Divine, That would not for company cogge, lye, and whine, Which, &c.

So frantickly zealous they were at that season, That the five rotten Members impeacht of High Treason, They guarded against all Right, Law and Reason, Which, &c.

Will fool was counted the worst of the twain, Till Tom fool Lord F—the Cause to maintain, His Honor and Conscience did fearfully stain, Which, &c.

Sir William at Run-away-downs had a bout, Which him and his Lobsters did totally rout,

And his Lady the Conqueror could not help him out, Which, &c.

Though General B— do now fawn and be∣seech, The Cavaliers found him a blood-sucking Leech, He would seem a Convert, but he stinks of the Breech, Which, &c.

All will confesse that Saint Oliver Cromwell Had learn'd in his Reign the three Nations to cumwell, Although it be true that he did love a Bum-well, Which, &c.

But young Dick and Harry, not his Heirs but his Brats: As if they had lesse wit and grace than Gib-Cats, Slunk from their Commands like a pair of drown'd Rats, Which, &c.

The sound of a Rump nere heard of before, In their addle pates did so whistle and roar, That streight they betook themselves to the back door, Which, &c.

When Haslerig of the Rump brought up the rear, The Army was in such a bodily fear, That no one commander durst ever appear, Which, &c.

Down goes the Publick, when Knaves usurp Power, The Rump by one Ordinance can more men de∣vour,

Than all the great Guns shot from the Tower, Which, &c.

Pennington long since was broken to fitters, Yet fits with the Rump of Sects to Pig-litters; And such as come near him, he all to besquitters, Which, &c.

If Alderman Atkins you keep not in minde, Hee'l take it so ill, that hee'l fly out behinde, And make you remember with every winde, Which, &c.

Titchborn could preach, pray and prate by the Spirit, And Ireton little better, who rang'd like a Ferret•• And Tyburn thinks long to give them their merit, Which, &c.

Lord Gourney was right, whom the City betraid; Now the City would be right, were the Maior not a Jade: Till such as he be made examples, nere look for better Trade, Which, &c.

Ne're did any Nation so court their own good, As we have all offers of mercy withstood, God's judgement on our rapine, and shedding of blood, Which, &c.

All wise men and good, say it is a mischievous fate, A Kingdome to turn to a Popular State; Yet wee'l take no warning untill it be too late: Which, &c.

A desperate crew of self-seeking Elves, Do wilfully force us on quicklands and shelves; This we see, yet we seek not to safeguard our selves, Which, &c.

For when the poor Cits are plunder'd by force, Their grievances find as little remorse I'th' man-beast, the Maior as in his great horse, Which, &c.

The Rump yet fits brooding upon their close stool In labour to bring forth a Knave or a Fool; Begotten by a new Legislative Tool, Which, &c.

Sir Henry Vane Prince of the last modell'd rout, Was known as a Traytor, both cunning and stout, Yet for being too rampant the Rump shit him out, Which, &c.

James Harrington Knight or Knave, choose you whether, For in the Rump still Knight and Knave go toge∣ther, The times cannot mend till hee's tyed to his te∣ther, Which, &c.

Harry Martin and Scot with some thirty eight more Are resolved on the question to keep us all poor, Whilest they have the power to Plunder and Whore, Which, &c.

Who can gain-say that it was a strong fart,

Which blew the Lord Disborough back to his Cart, And taught silly Fleetwood of crying the Art, Which, &c.

'Tis pity that Hewson the Lord should have died For piercing his Brother, the Cobler's Hide, Since the word of Command came from his blind side, Which, &c.

Luke Robinson wants both his Bristles and Aule To stitch up his lame Legge, and help him to craule, Who down-right hath halted betwixt God and Baal, Which, &c.

The Prentices once put the Troupers to flight, And the Red-coats for fear then were ready to shite, When Lambert the Atheist marcht Northward to fight, Which, &c.

The Greeks that sack Troy from the Belly did come Of Epriis his Horse; but with Musket and Drum The War among us is carried on by the Bum, VVhich, &c.

Jack Presbyter struts up and down in a jump, Curtail'd on purpose for fear least the Rump Should sit on his skirts and give him a thump, Which, &c.

Instead of an Use of divine Consolation,

The Hypocrite publisht a late Exhortation, To trapan this poor City, and beggar the Nation, Which, &c.

For what is call'd Christian, it is no great matter, So they may but gather, they care not who scatter; They cannot be gifted unless they do flatter, Which, &c.

Since Charles was beheaded we have backward gone, And now are brought ev'n to the bare Rump-bone, Which speaks in no other but Atkins his tone, Which, &c.

'Tis hard to say, how much these Arse-wormes do urge us, We now need no Quack but these Jacks for to purge us, For resisting our Head the Tayle now doth scourge us, Which, &c.

Lenthal now Lords it though the Rabble him mock, In calling him Speaker, and Speaker to the Dock, For an hundred pound more hee'l kiss their very Nock, Which, &c▪

And now if we crave but a Parliament Free, We are sure to feel Plunder, or Prison to see; They'l gore us, and bore us, & slaves we must be, Which, &c.

We are sensible now, that there is no one thing, Can full satisfaction to all Interest bring, Till in spite of all Traytors, we fetch in the King, Which, &c.

Monk like the Oracle playes fast and loose; We know not yet, whether hee's a Fox or a Goose, He had need look about him, for his neck's in a noose, Which, &c.

Then to conclude this innocent Song, Least the Rump should infect you, which smelleth so strong: Old Old Nick bless them all, and take them e're long, Which no body can deny.

A Psalm sung by the People before the Bone-fires, made in and about the City of London, Febr: 11.

To the Tune of Vp tails all.

COme let's take the Rump And wash it at the Pump, For 'tis now in a shitten Case: Nay if it hang an Arse, Wee'l pluck it down the stares, And rost it at Hell for its grease.

Let the Devil be the Cook, And the roast overlook, And lick his own fingers apace; For that may be born, (if he take it not in scorn To lick such a privy place.)

Though we are bereft Of our Armes, Spits are left, Whereon the Rump we will roast; Wee'l prick it in the Tayl, And bast it with a Flayl, Till it stink like a Cole-burnt Toast.

It hath lain long in brine, Made by the Peoples eyne, So 'tis salt through unsavoury meat; Wee'l draw it round about With Welsh Parsley, and no doubt It will choak Pluto's great Dog to eat.

We will not be mockt, This Rump hath been dockt, And if our skill doth not fail; To fear it is good, Or else all the blood In the Body, will leak out at the Tail.

Then down in your Ire, With this Rump to the fire, Get Harrington's Rota to turn it; If Paper be lackt, The Assessment Act You may stick upon'•• lest ye burn it.

But see there my Masters It rises in blisters, And looks very big on the matter; Like a roasting Pigs ear; It sings, do ye hear? 'Tis enough, come quickly the Platter.

Lay Trenchers and Cloth, And away bring the Erot••, Did the Devil o' th' Fag-end make none; But hold, by your leave Napkins we must have To wipe our mouths when we have done.

Come Ladies pray where? Will you none of our Chear? Are ye of such a squeamish nature? Pray what is the reason? Are Rumps out of season? But 'tis an abuse to the Creature.

Come wee'l fall on, Pray cut me a Bone, The Meat may be healthfull and sound; Fogh! come let us bury••t, To th' hole we must carry't, This Rump it stinks above ground.

This Fire wee'l stile The Funeral pile, The Grave shall be under the Gallows; The Vane shall be th' Scull Of some Trayterous Fool, And the Epitaph shall be as follows;

Ʋnderneath the Stones A Rump-Corporate's bones, Are laid full low in a sink, And we do implore ye Let them rest, for the more ye Do stir them, the more they will stink.

A Display of the Headpiece and Codpiece Valour, of the most Renowned Collonel Ro∣bert Jermy, late of Bafield in the County of Norfolk, Esq with his Son Captain Toll by his side; now on their way for New-Eng∣land. Or, the lively description of a dead-hearted fellow.

To the Tune of a Turd, or the Black-smith.

DId you ne're hear of the Baby of Mars, That charg'd Fox's wife with a Tars, For his valour lies all in his Arse, Which needs must be very strong.

A sanctify'd Colonel in beaten Buff, With a Scarlet Jump that's (1) 1.5 Cudgel-proof; And his Son (2) 1.6 Crowland Coward of the self-same stuff, Who got the Wench bigg with young. Proba∣tum est.

He's a Journey-man Soldier to the States Army, And 'tis in his terms, When you fight you must spare me: So runs the Commission of Colonel Jermy, If I be informed true.

Upon a Mock-Larm he's sure in the Van, Where he takes none, and does no more hurt than he can. He's a pittifull Souldier, though a cruel man, Let's give the Devil his due,

To sacrifice to his fears and his pride, He caus'd a (1) 1.7 Church-Champion be mur∣der'd and try'd By the Judge of his name, and the Rope on his side; 'Tis Pity they ever were parted.

Yet you cannot but say 'twas very well meant, When he went to the House of Parliament, In love to his Country before he was sent, In a Coach, when he might have been Carted.

You must alwayes take the good-will for the deed, Though at (2) 1.8 Pisen he had not the luck to speed; Yet some other place may have very great need, If the Devil release but his hire.

So dear was his love that he (1) 1.9 purchas'd a throng Of Sea-men, in Lice and Lungs very strong. Sure he will be some body ere it be long, If he be not laid in the mire.

How the Sailers did hollow and throw up their Hats, And the men with wide mouths that us'd to cry Sprats; But the brave Spark of Arundel made them look like drown'd Rats, When he (2) 1.10 humbled Tom T••ll for his sin.

That high-born Hero had cudgell'd their Swords, Had they not almost expir'd at his words; But the whole design was not worth two half-Turds, Though you throw the (3) 1.11 three Justices in.

In his last good service he (4) 1.12 took the City, By an Order from the mistaken Committee, Where he scap'd a scowring, the more was the pitty; For 'twas foul when you've said what you can.

He march'd into the Gates with an hundred more, O brave! he ne're did the like before; For he us'd to sneak in at the (5) 1.13 back dore,

As becomes a right modest man.

When they entred the Town they beleagur'd the Maior, And with wonderfull courage they stormed the Chair; But they soon were all soul, and ran very fair, As if they'd been bred for the Course.

For the (1) 1.14 Bells were rung backward, as he sayes his Prayers, And his head went forward with his haste down the stairs, Like a man of dispatch in the State-affairs, Thank Fortune it was no worse.

'Tis much to be wondred he should leave the Rump, Though his love to that end has receiv'd a Law frump, But that is his god whatever is Trump; Yet his Spirit now was blind.

Had the Rump but once fizl'd, 'twas the strongest side, But a Fart has so routed his Troop in their pride, Though infallible (2) 1.15 Butler was his guide, That they are both blown down the winde.

Yet that would be thought a true (1) 1.16 English∣man, Let him make true Latine if he can; Yet learned mens lives this Rascal will scan, And when he has done it deny it.

This is Jermy's Forlorn when brave Jacks appear; He has little of wit, and lesse of fear, And swears for his Collonel by the year; And when he is in, he will ply it.

When the Nation was Jaded with a (2) 1.17 Quaker, This Jipp••e forsooth was a great Undertaker, And amongst other Trades a Justice-maker, (3) 1.18 Brewer, Tirrell, and Gaffer Life.

We're made and created by his stinking breath, To sit on the Bench upon Life and Death. We'd as good have had a Turd in our teeth, Without any further strife,

I thought this Collonel would fail, When he was upon his Codpiece-bail, He got such a flap with a Fox tail, As more at large in your (4) 1.19 Box, Sir.

But now if we may believe common fame. At present they say he's fled for the same,

How poorly this Fellow has plaid his Game! But let him not scape without knocks, Sir.

Yet he is such a Coward that I dare say, He neither dares fight nor yet run away, And yet he'd be glad to stand at a stay, If he might but have his Quietus.

For tell him his baseness but once to his face, Y'are sure enough he dies on the place, If he hangs not himself upon this disgrace, 'Tis one to a Thousand he'l beat us.

A Letany for the New-year.

FRom all and more than I have written here, I wish you well protected this New-year; From Civil war, and such uncivil things As ruine Law and Gospel, Priests and Kings; From those who for self-ends would all betray, From such new Saints that Pistol when they pray, From flattering Faces with infernal Souls, From new Reformers, such as pull down Pauls, From L••nsy woolsy Lords, from Town betrayers, From Apron Preachers, and extempore Prayers, From Pulpit-blasphemy & bold Rebellion, From Bloud and—somethings else that I could tell ye on, From new false Teachers which destroy the old, From those that turn the Gospel into Gold, From that black Pack where Clu••s are alwayes, Trump From Bodies Politique and from the Rump, From those that ruine when they should repair, From such as cut off Heads instead of Hair,

From twelve Months Taxes and abortive Votes, From chargeable Nurse-Children in red Coats, From such as sell their Souls to save their Sums, From City Charters that make Heads for Drums, From Magistrates which have no truth or know∣ledge, From the red Students now in Gresham Colledge, From Governments erected by the Rabble, From sweet Sir Arthurs Knights of the round Table, From City-Saints whose Anagram is Stains, From Plots and being choak'd with our own Chains, From these, and ten times more which may en∣sue, The Poet prays, Good Lord deliver you.

The New State described.

LO here a Glorious Realm subverted stands, Just Tumbler-like upon the Feet and Hands: Once Europes Pride and Envy, now their Scoff, Since the base Entrayles cut the Head on't off, The Body lost its form, and's turn'd a Lump; Now all the Limbs are Vassals to the Rump, Which all the Nutriture devour'd and spent, Yields nothing back but stink and excrement, And all returns that ever this doth send us, Serves only to defile us and offend us; 'Tis by much pamparing grown a strange Disease, Which all receives, and gives nor food nor ease To th' pining Body, but is craving still; And we by feeding it our selves do kill;

Which nothing lives by that has any worth, But those base vermin which its stink brought forth. If every Member in this Body would Withdraw its strength and influence, as they should, This nasty Highness quickly must abate, And yield to th' Head which only saves the State.

The Devills Arse a Peake: or, Satans beastly part, or in plain terms, Of the Posteriors and Fag-end of a Long Parliament.

To be said or sung very comfortably. To the Tune of Cook Laurel.

O Foolish Brittanicks, where are your hearts fled? What fiend doth the Nation bewitch; That since you like Rogues cut off your own Head, Your Noses close in with the Britch?

The Britch! such a bit, Nolls paunch could never brook, For it put him still to his dumps; And though full meals of Hell-broth he oft took, Yet alwaies he spew'd out the Rumps.

Till Lambert the Knave and Fleetwood the fool (Though Dick perswaded them from it) Did overturn the Devils Close stool, And like Dogs return to their Vomit.

No sooner the Councel Table was spread With many a vomited gull But the Army turn'd squeazie and turned their Head, For they soon had their Belly full.

The Red-coats could never this Rumbling digest, Till advis'd by Old nick and his train, (Who good unwittingly oft may suggest) They spew'd up their Vomit again.

Their Surreverence was for a while out of sight, Till Whettam began to deplore 'um, And Arthur the Knight of the Spur a bold wight, The Rump of a Rump did restore 'um.

Then a pox light on the pittifull Rump, That a third time above board vapers, Which Old Nick blew out; but now turns up Trump, As Jone farted in and out Tapers.

The House by this Legion was long time possest, But at last they were cast out of dore; Yet finding it swept, returned a new guest Seven-times more a fiend than before.

Away then ye pittifull Citizen slaves, Who let such enormities pass, Were you but true men or but errant Knaves, Fools durst not you ride like an Ass.

Then dare to be Honest, and beat up your Drum, For when the Rogues hear of your power, You'll smell what a scent proceeds from the Bum, From Whitehall, at least to the Tower.

S' foot! what if these Ars-worms with gifts of our gold Great George to defend them should move Our goods & our Liberties, then would be sold, And the Devil a Monk would he prove.

Then pluck up your Spirits, and draw out your Swords, 'Tis force that must only prevail, We have long enough stood out in bare Words, Let's now make a stod for their Tayl.

Then Vive le Roy let's merrily Sing, Can any Man well in his Wits, Think worser of Charles our Noble good KING, Than those who do govern by Fits?

Search round the great City what ill you can see, Which the Rascally Rump hath not done, And then you will wish with the Nation and me, That CHARLES had his Heritage won

For Swearing, Sacriledge, Murther, and Lyes, KING-Killing, Hypocrisy, Cheats, They make no more of these Sins, then of Flies, HELL is almost out-damn'd by their Feats.

Then fight ye like men for the good of the Nation As ye hope to be civilly Drunk, On free cost at blessed CHARLES Corona∣tion, Pray hard for the trunesse of Monk.

Heaven bless our good Soveraign, the best of all Men, Let the King of our Hearts be Trump, That Peace and Prosperity may come agen, Squire Dun and Old Nick take the Rump.

Then let the Knaves shuffle three Kingdoms a∣while Till each Curr at his Fellow snarles, Ere long they will Cut, and after the Broyle The Dealing must fall to KING Charles.

This Flap with a Fox-tail shall have the same lot, That unhorst his Tumble-down Highness, For since the rest of the Members are not, The Rump must shortly have FINIS.

The Committee of Safety.

HEard ye not of the Phanatick Committee Of Safety, whom London that stiff-necked Citty Profanely disturbed, and was not that pitty? Oh blessed Reformation.

This gallant Committee made up of a crue Of three and twenty bad men and untrue, Would have made both our Church & our State for to rue. Still blessed Reformation.

Charles Fleetwood is first and leads up the Van, Whose counterfeit Zeal turns Cat in the pan, And dame Sankey will swear he's a valiant man. Oh, &c.

John Lambert at Oliver's Chair doth roare, And thinks it but reason upon this score,

That Cromwell had sitten in his before. Still, &c.

Desborough's a Clown, of whom it is sed, That to be a States-man he never was bred, For his Shoulders are far better proof than his Head. Oh, &c.

But whatever he wants is soundly made up By subtle Sir Vane, who would bring us to sup Large draughts from the whore of Babylon's cup. Still, &c.

And under the arm of that masked Turk Little Bennet creeps in to help on the good work, And by voting down Tithes to reform the proud Kirk. Oh, &c.

The Tobacco-man Salway with a heart full of gall Puff-down Bells, Steeples, Priests, Churches, & all As old superstitious Relicks of Baal. Still, &c.

Holland the Link-boy's a worshipfull Wight, For he must stand by to hold them a Light While they do their works of darkness and night. Oh, &c.

Next Steel the Recorder, whose politick Noddle With Out-landish Notions of State doth still quoddle, Would here introduce the Venetian Moddle. Still, &c.

Brandriffe a harmless and innocent Pigeon Most zealously moves, that each ignorant Wigeon May have leave to profess and own any Religion. Oh, &c.

Wat Strickland him second's that furious Ram, And swears that when first to Holland he came, All Sects were permitted in Amsterdam. Still, &c.

Whitlock that mischievous dangerous Elf Never sticks to turn sides to promote his own Wealth, And hath Wit enough, Law enough to damne himself. Oh, &c.

Ludlow's a Saint of the Levelling mold, And of courage undaunted, for Faith makes him bold, Since the fort at Duncannon is his strong hold. Still, &c.

Thompson a Person of noted affection, Though suspected as guilty of much circum∣spection, Yet is one of this Gang for the Peoples correcti∣on. Oh, &c.

Jesuitical Berry can hardly afford A Gown-man to preach, but will make us accord, That Mars hath best right to the two-edged sword. Still, &c.

Poor Sidenham would preach and pray too if he could, But finding he cannot perform what he would,

He is bent and resolv'd ne're to do what he should Oh, &c.

At President Laurence let none dare to scoff Or abuse his grave Sermons, to call them riff raff, Hee's a Father of England, and the Horse-men thereof. Still, &c.

Lord Hughson the Cobler's teeth greedily chatter To carve up a Prentice's Head in a Platter, For he will go through-stitch with the whole matter. Oh, &c.

John Clark in his hast is all lightning and thunder, To break all Demuries and weak Scruples asun∣der, While his fingers do itch at the Cities rich plun∣der. Still, &c.

No marvel that Lilburn is one of this Train, As frantick as any, and as crosse in the grain, For Robin inherits his Brothers mad Brain. Oh, &c.

The Mountain did travel and bring forth of late, What was't but a Mouse? and Sir Harrington's pate Is pregnant with formes of the Utopian State. Still, &c.

What? A Scotch Rook among all these English Jack-dawes, The Laird Warriston's in for the Gude Old Cause, To subvert all Proprieties, Charters and Laws. Oh, &c.

A brace of sage Aldermen act in the Play, Ireton and Titchburn who faithlesly may, The Londoners Counsells and Plottings betray, Still, &c.

So here's a Committee of Safety compounded Of Knave and of Fool, of Papist and Roundhead, On Base's of Treason and Tyranny grounded. Oh, &c.

These did their Protestant Soveraign kill, These glory'd the bloud of the Nobles to spill, And trampled on Parliaments at their own will. Still, &c.

These were the Carbuncles of Oliver's Nose, And the Rump's stinking excrements as we sup∣pose Bound up in the linings of Atkins's Hose. Oh, &c.

Tredeskin himself never had such a Show As this Knack, which would all our Rights o∣verthrow, And Caligula-like slay three Lands at a blow. Still, &c.

What Resolves and what Orders were past I shan't tell, Nor will any longer on this Subject dwell, E're now an Account is given in Hell, Where they'l make a new Reformation.

For Monck charm'd the Goblin, and packt it a∣way

To its properest Place, with black Pluto to stay, For which let true English-men joyfully say St. George wrought the true Reformation.

The GANG or the Nine Worthies and Champions, Lambert, &c.

To the Tune of Robinhood.

IT was at the Birth of a Winters morn, With a Hey down down a down down, Before the Crow had pist, That nine Hero's in scorn Of a Parliament forlorn, Walkt out with Sword in fist.

Johnne Lambert was first a dapper Squire, With a Hey down, &c. A mickler man of might Was nere in York-shire; And he did conspire With Vane Sir Harry a Knight.

Desborough was such a Country Swain, With a Hey down, &c. An Easter Sun nere see; He drove on a main Without any brain, Such a jolt-head Knave was he.

Kelsey was a brave Button-maker; With a Hey down, &c. As ever set mould upon Skewer;

And this Wise-aker Was a great pain-taker, T' make Lambert's Nose look blewer.

The devout and Holy Major Creed, With a Hey down, &c. I known't of what Faith or Sect, Had mounted a ••teed, And vow'd he would bleed 'Fore Lambert should be checkt.

Duckenfi••ld (Steel was nere so true,) With a Hey down, &c. And as wise as ever was Toby. Lay in the Pu••lew, The Cock-pit Av••nue, To hinder the Speakers Go-by.

A man of Stomack in the next Deal, With a Hey down, &c. Was hungry Colonel Cobbet, He would eat at a Meale A whole Common-weale, And make a Joynt but a Gobbet.

The following Champion is Barrow, With a Hey down, &c. An Ominous name for a Swine-Herd, He flew like an Arrow, Thither whence Lord Harry But durst not draw his Whinyard.

Room for Packer a toyling Ditcher, With a Hey down, &c.

He had set his Spade an edge, He hop't to be Richer By being a Bricher And Lambert his Stake in the hedge.

For Nobilities sake we may not forget, With a Hey down, &c. That Valiant Mars his true Son, His Cobling Feat Lackt a Parliament Seat That Marks-man one-eyed Hewson.

These being aided with Red Coat and Creepers, With a Hey down, &c. After a short Dispute The Liberty Keepers, Were made Boo-peepers, And the Speaker strucken Mute.

But well said Sir Arthur, what time of the day? With a Hey down, &c. The Parliament's now in the Prime They stand at a Bay, And have mist their Prey, And Cowardly curse the time.

The Second Part.

NOw Johnne is gone to the North Countrey, With a Hey down, &c. And glad he is to retire, He cryes Cramme O Cree, Have mercy on me 〈…〉〈…〉 set a-Fire.

And Desborough gotten into his Farm, With a Hey down, &c. Untill they do him need, 'Meant the House no harm, But took it for a Barn, His Lord and hee's not agreed.

Kelsey is praying for the Dole, With a Hey down, &c. Of the Hospital that's Suttons; He is out of the Roll, And hath ne're a Loop-Hole, And now his Arse makes Buttons.

And Creed will now believe Sir Arthur, With a Hey down, &c. His Steed is Chopt for a Jade, He will be a Carter Before a Martyr, And is turned Regenade.

Duckenfield's in a pittifull Case, With a Hey down, &c. The Speakers Horses and Coach, Were at stake with the Mace, And he's thrown Aums Ace, Tyburn owes him a reproach.

By being too greedy Colonel Cobbet, With a Hey down, &c. Ha's got a Bone in his throat, He hath sighed and sobbed And grievously throbbed, But it will not help the Choak.

Pray take your turn too Mr. Barrow, With a Hey down, &c. What think you of your Plot? Your Sow will not Farrow, The Hang-man's Harrow, That Hurdle will be your Lot.

Tye him up DƲN, 'tis Goodman Packer, With a Hey down, &c. That would set up another Nose, Had he been a Backer As Colonel Hacker, H'ad liv'd in spight of his Foes.

H••••son's Companions as scabby a•• Coots, With a Hey down down a down down. Have infected him with the mange, They have pist in his boots, He must cry roots, And TƲRN OƲT to Turnup must change.

Vanity of Vanities, or Sir Harry Vane's Picture.

To the Tune of the JEWS Corant

HAve you not seen a Barthol'mew Baby, A Pageant of policy as fine as may be, That's gone to be Shown at the Mannor of Raby, Which no body can deny.

There was never such a prostitute Sight, That e're profan'd this purer Light, A Hocus Pocus juggling Knight, Which, &c.

He was taken for a Delphick Tripus, Another doubt-solving Oedipus, But the Parliament made him a very Quibus, Which, &c.

His cunning State tricks and Oracles, His lying Wonders and Miracles, Are turned into Parliament Shackles, Which, &c.

Goodly great Sir Onesimus VANE, The Annointed King of Saints not Reign? I see all Godlyness is not Gain, Which, &c.

John a Leyden that Munster's Jing, Was a Fool and an Asse to this pretty Thing, But the Parliament hated the name of a King, Which, &c.

This holy Saint hath pray'd till he wept, Prophesied and Divin'd while he slept, But fell in a T — when aside he stept, VVhich, &c.

He sate late in the House so discontent, With his Arms folded and his Brows bent, Like Achitophel to the Parliament, Which, &c.

He durst not speak of a Concubine, Nor gave more Councel to any Design, But was musing on a Hempen Line, Which, &c.

He see Mr. P — take a great deal of Pain, To get in with the rest as Members Again, But they were Voted as use-less as VANE▪ Which, &c.

They gave him a Conge with such a Vote; 'Twas thought they had learned it by Rote, Ever since he went down to Graves-end by Bote. Which, &c.

For all his Ceremonious Cringing, He shall undergo a notable Swinging, There is now no more need of his Engine, Which, &c.

When first the English War began His Father was a Court Trepan, And 'rose to be a Parliament Man, Which, &c.

So from the Father came unto the Son, Whom wo and Mis'ry now do wait upon, For Counselling Protector John, Which, &c.

A Gemini they were, Pollux and Castor, One was a Teacher, the other a Pastor, And both like R — betrayed their Master, Which, &c.

The Devil ne're see such two Sir Harry's, Such a pest'lent pair nor near nor far is, No not at the Jesuites Sorbon of Paris, Which, &c.

They talkt of his having a Cardinals Hat, They'd send him as soon an old Nun's Twat; For turning in pan there was nere such a Cat, Which, &c.

His dainty project of a Select Senate, Is Damned for a blasphemous Tenet, 'Twas found in the budget ('tis said) of Monk Bennet, Which, &c.

Of this State and Kingdom he is the Bane, He shall have the reward of Judas and Cain, And 'twas he that overthrew Charles his Wain, Which, &c.

Should he sit where he did with his mischievous brain, Or if any his Councels behind do remain, The house may be called the Labour in Vain, Which no body can deny.

The Glory of the WEST, or, The Tenth Renowned WORTHY, and most Heroick CHAMPION of this BRITISH ISLAND. Being an unparallel'd Com∣memoration of General MONK'S coming towards the City of LONDON.

TO unperplex the Riddles of our State, And to discover t'us our hidden part, Welcome (we cry) Welcome to George the Great, A joyfull sight to see.

Not like the Macedon's impatient sword, That solv'd the doubt tyed in the Gordian Cord, Great George doth time proportion due afford, A joyfull, &c.

Wisdoms great pattern bred at Bellonaes Brest, Prudence and Valour joyned in one Rest▪ No more St. George shall be but George the Blest, A joyfull, &c.

As Caesar did the affrighted Boat-man learn, When he sate trembling at the stinking stern, My fates Embarqued that do's the world con∣cern, A joyfull, &c.

So the wrackt Vessel of the state distrest, With Heav'ns angry blasts, now seeks for rest, From the Favonian Gales of George o'th' West, A joyfull, &c.

His great excelling merits in the Scale, Of our rais'd hope, nor shall the angry Taile, Of any Comet 'gainst our peace prevail, A joyfull, &c.

Another Fabius, whose wise delayes (Like a misty morn, guilt with the Suns noon'd rayes) Have Crown'd him with the Glorious Bayes, A joyfull, &c.

He that has marched quite three Kingdoms o're, Subdu'd his great mind for to make them four, The signs to bring peace and plenty to our door. A joyfull, &c.

Let all antient Glory then be a Romance, Let old Fame, and craz'd Time, lye in a Trance, Nothing new but Hony Soit qui maly pense, A joyfull, &c.

This is the Noble Champion of the Garter, The Great Defender of the Magna Charter, The Soveraign Good came from the Northerne Quarter, A joyfull, &c.

To settle a Nation without any Blowes, To break down the Bridge of another Nose, To do what all wish, but no body Knows, A joyfull, &c.

To compleat a Design without any Noyse, To amuse the Loud cry of Vive le Roys, And sport all along with your Common wealth toys, A joyfull, &c.

But all the grand Hero's and wise ones together, None had such advantage of Wine and Weather, 'Tis true he's sprung of a Princely Feather, A joyfull, &c.

Where shall we begin his Trophees to raise? Or when shall we make an end of his praise? The blessing and honour and joy of these dayes. A joyfull, &c.

The untam'd Scot (before his glorious time) Has made t'expiate their treacherous crime, They own him sole Conqueror of their Clime, A joyfull, &c.

His great and most powerfull Influence. Ha's restrain'd them in their Obedience, As if they own'd the Vice-roy of their Prince, A joyfull, &c.

The shifting Irish 'bey'd his great command, The slaughtered Dutch, yet rowling on the sand, Crave a reflux, to keep them from his hand, A joyfull, &c.

Thrice did he Victory over them repeat, And the almost wearied State were forc'd to treat To save them from a final last defeat, A joyfull, &c.

Whether we conquer'd are, or we must submit, By his all-powerfull hand to them that sit, We are sure to be eas'd of our present fit, A joyfull, &c.

What if great George should come to the City, And in all your good humours should presently fit ye, And I hope he will do; else more is the pity. A joyfull sight, to see.

The City of LONDON'S New Letany.

To the Tune of the Black-Smith.

FRom Rumps that do Rule against Customes and Laws, From a fardle of Fancies stil'd a Good Old Cause, From Wives that have nails which are sharper than Claws, Good Jove deliver us all.

From men who seek Right where it's not to be had, From such who seek good where all things are bad, From wise men far worse than fools or men mad. Good Jove, &c.

From Soldiers that wrack the poor out of dores, From Rumps that stuff Coffers to pleasure their Whores, Which they secretly squeeze from Comm••••∣wealth scores, Good Jove, &c.

From Ingrossers of wealth to lye by their walls, Which they force from poor women for keeping of Stalls, And choose for to rise by other mens falls. Good Jove, &c.

From Knaves that doe pocket good Subjects E∣states, From such that give Plaisters when they've bro∣ken our Pates, From Rumps that do Vote down our Postes, Chaines and Gates, Good Jove, &c

From States-men that Court the Thing that they hate, From wofull Repentance that comes too late, From those that delight in making of bate, Good Jove, &c

From Souldiers who mutiny for want of their pay, And at last go sneeking without it away, Crying, they hope for a far better day, Good Jove, &c.

From one who brought Forces to fill up the Town, That when Rumps were at highest he might pull them down, Because he himself doth aim at the Crown, Good Jove, &c.

From Commanders who never drew swords but in Schools,

Which were button-pointed to favour such fools, Who in vapouring words do threaten Joynt stools, Good Jove, &c.

Who to loose drop of blood would faint at the heart, And in dread of a Gun are scar'd at a Fart, If one blows but his Nose it makes them to start. Good Jove, &c.

Who think every brush of wind an Alarm, To which they make ready and cry out Arm, Arm, Yet secretly pray that there may be no harm, Good Jove, &c.

From a City that lyes on its back to be Gelt, From those that won't stir till famine be felt, From the Pike, the Gun, the Sword, and the Belt, Good Jove, &c.

From a simple Maior not fit to Rule Hoggs, From such as obey him like Spannel Doggs, From Summers heat and from winters Foggs, Good Jove, &c.

From Country Petitions and Declarations, That will not be drawn one inch from thei•• sta∣tions, But triumph in words for old Reformations. Good Jove, &c.

From Apprentices valour and threats from the City, Which would Act great Wonders, yet forbear in pitty,

From Fools that conceit themselves very witty, Good Jove, &c.

From Oaths and Engagements imposed by force, And broken as fast without any remorse, Alleadging them Ceremonies of course, Good Jove, &c.

From those whose damn'd actions with Treason are Crown'd From such that would Law and Gospel con∣found, And vow that the City they'l burn to the ground, Good Jove, &c.

From People that murmur with Swords in their hand. And keep an entreating when they may command, Yet had rather loose all than Knaves to withstand, Good Jove, &c.

From Rumps that the Kingdoms Revenue have spent, From an everlasting Parliament, And from an Army full of discontent, Good Jove, &c.

From such who do courtesies with a long pause, From those who condemn before they hear the Cause, And from Trades that are worse than picking of straws, Good Jove, &c.

From a Foes mercy when one lyes in his power, From a Friends anger in an ill hour,

And from a Fool that's Lieutenant of the Tower. Good Jove, &c.

From men who make use of their Friends in the nick, And when the Brunt's over against them do kick, The thoughts of such Varlets do make my Muse sick. Good night good people all.

The RUMP serv'd in with a Grand Sallet: or, A New Ballad.

To the Tune of the Black-smith.

1.

POetical Muses have fallen heavy as a Mallet, Upon the poor Rump for disgusting their Pallet, To cure the disrellish take now a Grand Sallet, Which no body can deny.

2.

This RƲMP is deriv'd by lineal descent, As the undoubted Heir, and excrement, Of the yet perpetual Parliament, Which, &c.

3.

This was such an Idol, as the Z••alots did strain Their Purses and Consciences for to maintain, Though it prov'd both of Church and Kingdom the bane. Which, &c.

4.

The tail of the Dragon's not so bad as this Rump, Which hath three such Kingdoms worn to the very stump, And must leave them for the time a confused Lump, Which, &c.

5.

Our Lawes, Lives, Lands, Liberties, were upon sale, By this everlasting Rump, Fag-end or tail, Yea to save our very Souls they refus'd to take bail. Which, &c.

6.

A Tail which was eaten up almost of the Pox, That stunk more like Carrion, than ever did Fox, Or that which was rosted of late at the stocks. Which, &c.

7.

A Rump that the People did hate, scorn, and curse▪ As a Devil incarnate, or of something that's worse, Of Schism and Rebellion both Mother and Nurse, Which, &c.

8.

The Othodox Cler••y was forc'd for to fly, They were plundred and sequestred without reason why, But only because they would not comply, Which, &c.

9.

Then as guilty of Popery the Common-prayer-book was damn'd, And with all kind of News-books the Churches were cram'd,

Venting lyes, non-sence, blasphemy, and what's not to be nam'd. Which, &c

10.

Then the Antient Order of Bishops went down, Which in the Church Christian was ever of Re∣nown, The Proverb proves true, No Miter, No Crown, Which, &c.

11.

In whose stead we planted Elders and Presbyters, Which impowr'd, brake Princes and People in fitters, And with their Classes and Asses them all to be∣squitters, Which, &c.

12.

They call'd then a Synod which scarce could a∣gree. I'th' space of three years whether there be a TRI∣NI••Y, From such pur-pure-blind Levites God bless you and me, Which, &c.

13.

That Assembly was just like the Members that chose it, Without Learning and Honesty, all the World knows it, Fit Jakes-farmers for the Rump, they could twang and nose it,

14.

They combin'd with the Scots to bring in a Direc∣tory, Tending neither to our Good, nor yet to Gods Glory;

'Tis a shame that Tom Fuller should name't in Church-story, Which, &c.

15.

For whereas a Christian should be taught how to pray, And both rightly to believe, and humbly to obey, Nor Lords prayer, nor Creed, nor Decalogue have they, Which, &c.

16.

Then curse ye Meroz, in each Pulpit did thunder, To perplex the poor people and keep them in wonder, Till all the Reins of Government were broken quite asunder, Which, &c.

17.

Then St. Pauls the Mother-Church of this City and Nation, Was turn'd to a Stable, O strange Profanation! Yet this was one of their best fruits of Reforma∣tion.

18.

Of all that is Christan they make no great matter, So they may but gather they care not who scat∣ter; Their Tryers would approve none but such as bribe and flatter, Which, &c.

19.

Instead of an Ʋse of Divine Consolation, These Hypocrites publisht a late Exhortation, To trepan and beggar this City and Nation, Which, &c.

20.

If they be establish•• bid England farewell, And rather than dwell here i'th' Suburbs of Hell,

Choose Turkey, or Tartary, or any where to dwell, Which, &c.

21.

This form will ne're suit with the English Com∣plection, Which is free and too Heroick to yield base Sub∣jection, Or to take from a Pope in each Parish correction, Which, &c.

22.

Who ever did Lord it like these self-seeking Elves, Which have forc'd us on covenants, vows, oaths, and other shelves, That should warn us for the future to look to our selves, VVhich, &c.

23.

All sober men know that 'tis a mischievous fate, A Kingdom to turn into a popular State, And Episcopy into a Presbyterate, VVhich, &c.

24.

Yet the Parliament set 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the pure Members five Both of Church and ••ngdom, the downfall to contrive, That by the Ruines o•• our Sion this their Babel might thrive, VVhich, &c.

25.

The Presbyters 3. years were long since expir'd, And yet, as if they had not our patience quite tir'd, To spur-gall us still afresh they have conspir'd, VVhich, &c.

26.

Then why so many Bonfires of late in this City? Why such ringing of Bells, and rejoycing? 'Tis pity That ye should be so gull'd by the Rump, that does out-wit ye, Which, &c.

27.

For the House is like Hydra, if one head ye kill, Another starts up, another full as ill; So, though one Rump is gone, yet another fits still, Which, &c.

28.

They have altered the scean, the people to please, Because in commotions they must them appease, We have thus chang'd our bed, but not our dis∣ease, VVhich, &c.

29.

Their shifting and shuffling is but to decoy us, While Spiders do spin, their Cobwebs annoy us, If the House ben't swept clean, ere long they'l de∣stroy us, Which, &c.

30.

If they mean as they talk of a Parliament free, How comes it that such Qualifications we see, That no one known Royalist can chosen be? Which, &c.

31.

The best things corrupted do ever prove worst, Then that the next Parliament make amends for the first, Let's choose no more Zealots, le••t in pieces we burst, Which, &c.

32.

For when as the Schismaticks i'th' House do prevail

Then the head and all the Members are led by the tail, So that all parts in doing their duty needs must fail, Which, &c.

33.

Let the Militia be setled e're you part with your Money, Else you'l find them gall and wormwood whom you took for honey, And the Souldiers will insult 'ore as soon as they've undone ye, VVhich, &c.

34.

'Tis believed the 3. Generals, Fairfax, VValler, and Brown, Are sorry now for what they once helpt to pull down, And 'tis hopt they'l redeem it by deeds of Re∣nown, Which, &c.

35.

We are sensible now that there is no one thing Can full satisfaction to all Interests bring But onely Charles the second, our known lawfull King, Which, &c.

36.

Let's dally no longer, but like Britains let's stand, For GOD and KING CHARLES, and the Laws of the Land; Let's up and be doing, let's do't out of hand. Which no body can deny.

Saint George for England.

To the Tune of Cook Laurell.

THe VVestminster Rump hath been little at ease, Of which you have heard enough one would think, And therefore wee'l lay it aside if you please, For the more we do stir in't the more it will stink.

These County resolves for a Parliament fre••, Makes the Rump smell worse than it did of late, For now it runs down their heels you may see, You may call them our Privy-Members of State.

But why should this Rump deal so roughly with Kent? When England was conquer'd they were scot-free, Must they for declaring of all men be shent? But long-tail and bob-tail can never agree.

'Tis much disputed who Antichrist is, I think 'tis the Rump, nor am I in jest, For indeed, although of the number it miss, Of this I am sure 'thas the mark of the Beast.

I cannot believe that our General Monck Intends to protect it, hee's not such a Fool; For if he were rightly inform'd how it stunk, He never would joyn with such Grooms of the Stool.

Though't be not whole Antichrist, 'tis the worst part, By it both the Pope and the Turk are out-done, If it be not the head, nor the feet, nor the heart, 'Tis the Rump of the VVhore of Babylon.

So pocky, so stinking, so cheating to boot, That he that has got but an eye or a nose, Would never bestride it; Then why should he do't? And make the poor Devil his stallionship lose;

If I might advise him, he should not come near it, The scent of that house is naught for his Gout, And for his Army too; he might well fear it, 'Tis enough to infect both his horse and his foot.

Nor would I wish him to come to VVhitehall, For that hath been an unfortunate place, From thence Noll was fetch'd, and Dick had his fall: And George may take heed that it be not his Case.

I remember the time when he fought for the King, And the Cause was good though he did not pre∣vail: O let not the Boyes in the streets now sing, He was once for the Head, but now for the Tail.

Then George for England strike up thy Drum, And do they devoir this Rump to destroy, That Noble King Charles the second may come, And our Streets may eccho with Vive le Roy.

••nd if He should come by thy Valour and Might, In that brave exploit thou'lt have more to brag on,

Than e're had Saint George that valiant Knight, Who rescued the Maid by killing the Dragon.

Then lay by the thought of a Parliament free, But first bring the King in if you be wise, For without Kings & Lords theres none can be; 'Twill be but a Rump of a bigger sise.

You know how to do it, and needs not much schooling, All that you need to say is, let it be done, Then why should you stand delaying and fooling, You fought for the Father, why not for the Son?

If you do not do't, much honour you'l lose, Which He and We mean you, for this We do know, That in spight of the Rump, and all other his Foes, He will be brought in whether you will or no.

The History of the Second Death of the RUMP.

To the Tune of The Parliament sate as sung as a Cat.

1.

COme buy my fine Ditty Of News from the Citty, As it was told in Devonshire;

The Pimp that whips weekly Your Breech Politickly Sells not so much truth in a quire.

2.

Tom Kings-man; near undone With long stay in London, Last week to the Country did gallop; Where he took Cavaliers With his News by the ears, As they did the Pot to drink all—up.

3.

Quoth he, I once went To th' late Parliament, Whose Members (when I had seen 'em) Made me think of a Rat, That was caught by a Cat, And eat up the tail, that is venom.

4.

But yet to the stump Of that Poysonous Rump, Th' Old Mouth did soder in season; And when that was done, Like a Lay-elder Gun, It stunk at both ends of High Treason.

5.

The Monster did come Of mere Mouth and Bum, Most cunningly thus compacted, That if question'd it were, For mischief done there, It might swear, 'twas by no body acted.

6.

O' the nature and name Of each Member that came

Should I give a full relation, Youl'd guesse by the stink, That I rak't in the sink, And common-shore of the whole Nation.

7.

Religions you might Find all there, but the right; For through the same Sieve they ran, Which Noll us'd before To sift the House o're, Till nothing was left but the Bran.

8.

But of those they had, Divisions being made By Fortune's hand, (which is uncertain) Some Members got many, Some few, some not any, As Nevill complained, and Martin.

9.

Indeed from Usurpers They freed us and our Purse, And praise of thanks had been their hire, For taking us thean Out o'th' Frying-pan, Had they not cast us into the fire.

19.

For Cromwell they voted A Tyrant, though rotted, 'Cause when they first footed their Game, Hee'd not let them carry To prey on the Q••arry, But gorg'd himself on the same.

11.

And King Olivers Sons, (Like Prince-playing Whore-Sons, That on too high parts had ventur'd) They strip't with a hiss Of their State-properties, And exeunt two Fools as they enter'd.

12.

What else they do, By our Purses we knew, As well as that scribling Knave Nedham; Some good Laws they un-did, And some bad they founded, And shortned our Chain for our Freedom.

13.

To quell this fierce Monster, A Knight did anon-stir, Who wanted Arms; yet from a Waggon O' th' Popes hee'd take none, But from Prester-John, And so St. George fell by the Dragon.

14.

Then Lambert's Wife chid him, And (like Cromwell) bid him Confound it, and mount the Throne Royal, Your Weapons are long Quoth she, and as strong, My self of 'em both have made tryal.

15.

He finds the Anabaptist For his purpose aptist, And treads the steps of Knipper Dolin, He fasts, and he prayes,

I'th' new canting phrase, As if Heaven were taken with drolling.

16▪

Some Packs he inveagles, O'th' blood-coated Beagles, To's party, the Rump-men did so to, And victualled so well, The adjacent fort Hell, As if they no other would go to.

17.

Little John thus did draw, 'Gainst th' Out-law, (Good King) to try who should have thy Deer, And thus for both poysons, A quarrel did rise once Betwixt the foul Toad and the Spider

18.

Bold Lambert advanced, He picquier'd and pranced, And's Party with speeches did urge on. But though he and Morley Did snarle and look surly, They cheated the Devil and the Chirurgion.

19.

For soon the Red-coat, (Who'l not fight, but vote) When Lamberts side stronger was found, By (at least) two foot, And a Trooper to boot, Did let the Rump fall to the ground.

20.

And with General Lent hall, The House they o're w••natall,

Religion and Laws they n'ere stood on, But sought still to hold, Ill got Land and Gold, Which first made the Old Cause a Good One.

21.

So fell the aged sway, Of five Months and a Day, We yet see no Heir apparent, But from Scabberd pregnant, Expect Posthume regnant, If Midwife Monck kindly take care on't.

22.

The Sword-men address to's, Pleas, and Manifesto's, Which shew 'em less honest than crafty, Whilst a Tyrannous crew, Our dangers renew, That's call'd a Committee of Safety.

23.

But Fleetwood and Whitlock, (The Laws cunning Pick-lock) With Salloway and Vane, two prime Praters, Loved Treason so well, That again to't they fell, And betray'd ev'n their own Fellow-traytors,

24.

In's villany Bradshaw, Of constancy made shew, For scorning Repentance as fickle, His life he soon ended, And to hell descended, This of my Faith is an Article.

25.

Yet Politicus. (The Devil's Succubus, To teem for his Commendation) Advizes us all To mourn, and we shall, Whilst that Hell-hound yelps in our Nation.

26.

And now Lambert's Cohorts, And Monks (which makes wo hearts) Do seem to contest, but anon, We ship-wrack't shall be, When they can agree From what coast the storm shall fall on.

27.

Whilst Buff and Red-coats Are sanctified notes Of Christ's and his Gospel's Protectors, But 'mong themselves solely, Do they pass for holy, As Bessus and's Sword-men for Hectors.

28.

They that heard this story, First ••ighed, and were sorry To hear of poor Englands confusion, Then drank a full Bowl To that Royal soul That must settle all in conclusion.* 1.20

The Arraignment of the DEVIL for steal∣ing away President Bradshaw.

To the Tune of, Well-a-day, well-a-day.

2

IF you'l hear news that's ill, Gentlemen, Gentlemen, Against the Devil: I will Be the Relator. Arraigned he must be, For that felloniously, 'thout due solemnity, He took a Traytor.

2.

John Bradshaw was his name. How it stinks, how it stinks, Who'l make with blacker fame, Pilate unknown. This worse than worst of things Condemn'd the best of Kings, And what more guilt yet brings, Know 'twas his own.

3.

Vertue in Charles did seem, Eagerly, eagerly, And villainy in him To vye for glory; Majesty so compleat, And impudence so great Till that time never met, But to my Story,

4.

Accusers there will be Bitter ones, bitter ones, More than one, two, or three, All full of spight. Hang-man and Tree so tall, Bridge, Tower, and City-wall, Kite and Crow, which were all Robb'd of their right.

5.

But Judges none are fit, Shame it is, shame it is, That twice seven years did sit To give Hemp-string dome; The fiend they would befriend, That he might in the end To them like favour lend In his own Kingdom.

6.

Sword-men it must be you, Boldly to't, boldly to't, Must give the Devil his due, Do it not faintly; But as you rais'd by spell Last Parliament from hell Omnipotently.

7.

The Charge they wisely frame (On with it, on with it,) In that yet unknown name Of Supreme power. Which six weeks hence by Vote Shall be or it shall not, When Monk's to London got In a good hour▪

8.

But twelve good men and true, Cavaliers, Cavaliers, He excepts against you, Justice he fears. From Bar and and Pulpit he Craves such as do for see Serve all turnes: for hee'l be Tryed by his Peers.

2.

Satan, y'are guilty found By your Peers, by your Peers. And must dye above ground, Look for no pitty. Some of our Ministry, Whose Spirits with yours comply, As Owen, Caryl, Nye, For death shall fit 'ee.

10.

Dread Judges; mine own limb I but took, I but took. I was forced without him To use a Crutch. Some of the Robe can tell How to supply full well His place here, but in hell. I had none such.

11.

Devil, you are an Asse, Plain it is, plain it is, And weakly plead the case; Your wits are lost. Some Lawyers will out-do't, When shortly they come to't, Your craft, our gold to boot▪ They have ingross'd.

12.

Should all men take their right, Well-a-day, well-aday, We were in a sad plight, O'th' Holy Party. Such practise hath a scent Of Kingly government; Against it we are bent, Out of home-Char'ty.

13.

But if I dye, who am King of Hell, King of Hell, You will not quench its flame, But find it worse: Confused Anarchy Will a new torment be; Ne're did these Kingdoms three Feel such a curse.

14.

To our promotion Sir, There are here, there are here, Through some confused stir Doth the high-road lye. In hell we need not fear Nor King, nor Cavalier, Who then shall dominere But we the Godly?

15.

Truth then, Sirs, which of old Was my shame, was my shame, Shall now to yours be told, You caused his death. The House being broken by Your selves (there's Burglary) W••ath entered forcibly, And stopt his breath.

16.

Sir, as our President Taught by you, taught by you, 'Gainst the King a way went Most strange and new: Charging him with the Guilt Of all the blood we spilt, With Swords up to the ••ilt, So wee'l serve you.

17.

For mercy then I call, Good my Lords, good my Lords, And Traytors I'le leave all Duly to end it. Sir, Sir, 'tis frivolous, As well for you as us, To beg for mercy thus, Our crimes transcend it.

18.

You must dye out of hand, Satanas, Satanas, This our Decree shall stand, Without controll, And we for you will pray, Because the Scriptures say, When some men curse you, they Curse their own soul.

19.

The fiend to Tyburn's gone, There to dye, there to dye. Black is the North anon, Great storms will be, Therefore together now I leave him and th' Gallow: So News-man take 'em thou, Soon they'l take thee.

The Rota: Or

News from the Common-wealths-Mens-Club, Written by Mr. Henry Stub; 'Tis better than a Syllybub.

1.

AT Westminster where we take boat, There on the left hand you may note The sign of the Turks Head and Throat.

2.

What Heads and Thoats therein there be, If you'l have patience to see, These few lines here shall notifie.

3.

Here Harrington breeds up his youth To the discover of no Truth, All Common-wealths-men in good sooth.

4.

A question here, though nere so rude, Is so belabour'd, and so rew'd, And into sundry pieces hew'd.

5.

If un-resolved by I, or Not, It must be put to the Ballot. 'Tis Mr. Harringtons own plot.

6.

The finest thing that ere was seen, The one side white the other green, And there you must put in a Bean.

7.

First Harrington doth hawk and hum, And tells a story of old Rome, Which from his own store never come.

8.

He cites Sigonius and Lampridius, Authors which to the Club are hideous, And he in quoting most perfideous.

9▪

But there a sad mishap befell, Which much doth grieve me for to tell, But I am glad it was so well.

10.

The learned man stood up and spoke, That by two Losses he was broke, His Reputation and his Cloke.

11.

Quoth he, my Reputation I hear is tumbled up and down Much like a Foot-ball through the Town.

12.

And for my Cloak, by this good light, This Rascal Miles but yester-night With Coffee did it all bedite.

13.

Next Polixfen, that Politician, Yet surely he is no Hebrician, And (as I take it) a worse Grecian.

14.

Whom 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 did so fright, He was not himself again that night, 'Twas thought he did himself beshite.

15.

There's Poultney too that man of Law,

In Politicks he is but raw, But prattles more than a Jack-daw▪

16.

Who speaking once of Injustice, Made a distinction somewhat nice, It was between a Sin and Vice.

17.

Next comes in Gold that brazen-face, If blushing be a sign of grace, The Youth is in a wofull case.

18.

Whilst he should give us Sol's and Ob's, He brings us in some simple bobs, And fathers them on Mr. Hobs.

19.

Nay, he hath got the prettiest feat, Monarchs out of the world to beat, Thus proves they're all a tacite Cheat.

20.

If man in state of nature be, And one imparts his right to me, I cheat him of his property.

21.

The like, if many men possest, To one gives all their interest; He must be deem'd a Cheat at best.

22.

We want not an Attorney hight, Lame Collins (if I name him right) Oh! 'tis a very learned Wight.

23.

The subtlest man that ere I saw, Did arguments from Scripture draw, Religion was before the Law.

24.

If so Sir Harrington's mistane, Religion doth the Law sustain, Law property, it is most plain.

35.

A Parson too, of no small note, His sense as thred-bare are his coat; And neither of them worth a groat.

26.

The man doth hope in time to be Chaplain to the Academy; Hee's fit, for he can scarce tell three.

27.

Morley, who thought to have been one Of the Committee, but was none; For had he, they'd been all undone.

28.

'Twas well foreseen, for the wise Knot Thought that the man might have a Plot, For to have dipped their Ballot.

29.

One in a speech he did reherse, 'Gainst the Popes land, he was so fierce▪ He cut it off at least in a teirce.

30.

He said he'd quote Authority, That the full lengsh of Italy Contain'd but threescore miles and three▪

31.

A Cambrobritain here god-wot, Must needs make one of this learned Knot, But 'twere as good if he were not.

32.

Taf•• Morgan, God he•• Worship save,

Doth shit among them very grave, He's no great States-man, but great K—

33.

Last, Skinner of his Chair grown proud, Doth gravely weild the busie croud, And still to Orders cries aloud.

34.

To tell you more of Mr. Skinner, He'd rather talk than eat his Dinner; Tis that which makes him look the thinner.

35.

But whilst the Man to Strafford cry'd, Sir you to Orders must be ty'd, Or else you must not here abide.

26.

For our course here, is not to prate Of things that do too near relate To the Affairs of present state▪

37.

Speak to the question, it is sound, In what of Government the Ground, Or the foundation may be found.

38.

Strafford with that did lowly bow, Good Mr. Speaker calm your brow, And of my Argument allow.

39.

For had your Question any sense, I should not take the confidence To give your Worship ought offence.

40.

But since for non-sense it may passe, To speak to you in Country-Phasse, Your Worship is a learned Asse.

41.

Which words he took in so much scorn, That nothing else would serve his turn, But presently he must adjourn.

42.

Adjourn, quoth Strafford, in a fright, Are you a Burgesse or a Knight? Sure I shall to the Tower to night.

43.

But loe, the worst of all disasters, A Youth stood up, My learned Masters, All Governments are much like plasters,

44.

Plaisters, quoth Strafford, let me dye; If not this poor Academy, H••ve not some grand infirmity.

45.

And since it happens to be so, I may chance be infected too; Therefore my Masters all, adieu.

Exit.

The Cobler's last Will and Testament: or, the Lord Hewson's translation.

1.

TO Christians all I greeting send, That they may learn their souls to amend By viewing of my Coblers end.

2.

First, to the new Lords I would give all, But that (like me) they're like to fall, Though heartless Fleetwood has no gall.

3.

Yet he deserves this Legacy, ROPE take you all, well may I cry, Hou're Murderers as well as I.

4.

And will thus (wry-neck) end your race, Since wilfulful Murther hath no place In the late Parliaments Act of Grace.

5.

My Paring-Knife I'le Lambert give, He may have use on't if he live, For's throat as well as his brow I believe.

6.

But Richard and Harry I have forgot, Shall I give them my Hammers? No, I will not, For they did not strike while th' Iron was hot.

7.

Vane take my Bends, and Wilks my Clue, Atkins my Hose of Safforn Hue, But Gregory saith my Clothes are his due.

8.

My Cushion will fit Q. Dowager Cromwell, Whilst Shipton wifes Prophesie she doth thumb well, In Chair of State 'twill ease her Bum well.

8.

For Oliver thou didst set me on high, I aim'd not at it, though I winkt of an eye, Yet I wish not now to come thee nigh.

10.

For sure ere this thou'lt burn with thy Nose, Which out of thy Nostrils Brimstone throwes, Would thou wert here to singe my Foes.

11.

There is another Lord, that's Rich,

To cure the City whose fingers did itch: But only I went thorough stitch.

12.

And yet they say I was out of my Trade When as Phlebotomy I Made, Some Chyrurgion to do't I'de better have paid.

13▪

Ill-looking death turn back thy shaft, If Charon me over Styx should waft, It would disgrace our Gentle-craft.

14.

I'th' Good Old Cause I traded st••ll, But in't my Lordship smelt some ill, To mend it though, prov'd past my skill.

15.

Therefore to Tyburn I must ride, Although it cannot be deny'd, But that I have lived single ey'd.

16.

And if my Foes will do me right, They'l say, I've set the crooked streight, Why then I am a Man upright.

17.

I wish the Jury find it so, John Lilburns Jury would say no, Stitch up the Lord, let the Cobler go.

18.

But 'tis no jesting matter I trow? For I can't laugh although you do; Yet may make a wry-mouth, or so.

19

Before, when we debaucht the Nation, We could have vouch'd our Reformation, By a day or two of Humiliation.

20.

Now 'tis not currant Pay, for I Have wail'd my sins, and yet they cry, Hang him, he weeps but with one eye.

The Hangman's last Will and Testament, with his Legacy to the Nine Worthies viz. Col. Lambert, Creed, &c.

I Have lived to see such wretchednesse, When none but Honesty are Crimes, That my Ropes are turned into Rimes. I and my Gallows groan.

Things are so carried I can't tell how, There's as many above still as are below, I have hang'd such in shirts as white as snow. I and my Gallows groan.

Oliver he lived by a Plot, The Parliament sits still, and why not? And I fared well by a bow-knot. I and my Gallows groan.

All my delight was in a Jayl, My estate was got at a Carts tayl, I know not what these people ayle. I and my Gallows groan.

Oliver he a Coach would drive,

And was honey in the Parliaments Bee-hive, Neither he nor I lov'd a reprive. I and my Gallows groan.

I wish I had had his Protectors rest, I'de have laid it an earnest for a jest, But Sir Harry Vane's worth all the rest, I and my Gallows groan.

I have chopt off many a worthy Head, And thanks to the Sheriffs have been well fed. But that I can dock must never be sed. I and my Gallows groan.

Lambert I knew was troubl'd with the yellows, And more perplexed with his fellows. Had I liv'd I'de cur'd him at the Gallows: I and my Gallows groan.

Never was any so bad as my Trade, The Nine Worthies would have made, As a Drudge before something a Jade, I and my Gallows groan.

But I had got nothing by the thing, There's indempnity against the string, But my heir may get by a forward Spring, I and my Gallows groan.

I see John Lilburn at a bar, And Sir George Booth that man of war, But could get neither in my Car. I and my Gallows groan

I think the Ordinaries long Prayer, Hath spoyl'd frequenting of my fair. Till all long-winded R — are there. I and my Gallows groan.

For half thirteen pence half penny wages I would have cleared all the Town cages, And you should have been rid of all the Sages. I and my Gallows groan.

There was much climbing among the Grandees, Yet they all I see know the wood from the trees, And all to cousin me of my fees. I and my Gallows groan.

The High Court of Justice was out of use. The Thieves and the Bench had made a Truce, For want of Authority, a lean excuse. I and my Gallows groan.

'Twould vex any body to keep an Axe As long as there are any Alderman Packs, Or Deshorough eke with his wide Sacks. I and my Gallows groan.

That Duckenfield, Packer, and Major Creed, Of my helping hand should have such need, When I am not able to do the deed, I and my Gallows groan.

Lambert would also borrow the Block, As well as my Lady did Olivers Cock, But like him I must patiently bear this mock. I and my Gallows groan.

Fleetwood also lacks some of my skill, And that I can't do't Folks take it ill, I'de hang um all, if I could have my will. I and my Gallows groan.

'Tis vain to look for old mens shooes, Else I had had Hewson in a noose, But my Successor won't him loose. I and my Gallows groan.

Tyburn was once in mourning clad, For a great Man, and I also very sad, A full bunch will make you all glad. I and my Gallows groan

A Hymne to the Gen••le Craft: or Hew∣son's Lamentation.

To the Tune of the Blind Beggar.

LIsten a while to what I shall say Of a blind Cobler that's gone astray Out of the Parliaments High way, Good people pity the blind.

His name you wot well is Sir John Hewson Whom I intend to set my Muse on, As great a Warriour as Sir Miles Lewson, Good people, &c.

Hee'd now give all the shooes in his shop The Parliaments fury for to stop,

Whip Cobler like any Town-top, Good people, &c.

He hath been in many a bloody field, And a successfull sword did wield, But now at last is forced to yield, Good people, &c.

Oliver made him a famous Lord That he forgot his Cutting Bord, But now his Thred's twisted to a Cord, Good people, &c.

Crispin and he were nere of kin, The gentle Craft have a noble Twin, But he'd give Sir Hughs bones to save his skin, Good people, &c.

Abroad and at home he hath cut many a Hide, A Dog and a Bell must now be his Guide, They'l lash him smartly on the blind side, Good people, &c.

Of all his War-like valiant Feats, Of his Calves leather and his Neats, Let him speak um himself when he repeats, Good people, &c.

I'le only mention one exploit, For which when he begs, I'le give him a Doit, How he did the City vex and annoy't, Good people, &c.

He marcht into London with Red-coat and Drum During the time we had no Bum,

Being right for an Army as a Cows Thum, Good p••ople, &c.

And there he did the Prentices meet, Who jeered him as he went through the street, But he did them very well-favouredly greet, Good people, &c.

Bears do agree with their own kind, But he was of such a cruel mind, He kill'd his Brother Cob. before he had din'd. Good people, &c.

He strutted then like a Crow in a Gutter, That no body durst once more Mutter The Capon-Citizens, 'gan to Flutter, Good people, &c.

After he had them thus defeated, To his old Quarters he retreated, And was by Fleetwood notably treated, Good people, &c.

He is for this I hear Indited, Though the Week before by them Invited, But Wise Men say they had as good as Shited, Good people, &c.

He cares not for the Sessions a Lowse, They reach not a Peer of the other House, He's frighted to see that he is a Parliament chouse, Good people, &c.

And now hee's gone the Lord knows whether, He and this Winter go together,

If he be caught he will loose his Leather, Good people, &c.

H'ad best get him in some Countrey Town, And companie keep with Desbrow the Clown, You see how the World goes up and down. Good people, &c.

His Coach and his Horses are gone to be lost, He must vamp it and cart it and thank thee mine host, There's no more to be said of an old Toast, Good people, &c.

Sing Hi Ho Hewson, the State nere went upright, Since Coblers could Pray, Preach, Govern and Fight, We shall see what they'l do now y'are out of sight, Good people pity the blind.

The Rump Ululant: or Penitence per force. Being the Recantation of the Old Rusty-roguy-rebellious-rampant, and now ruinous rotten-rosted RUMP.

To the Tune of Gerrards Mistriss.

FArewell False Honors, and usurped Powers farewell, For the Great Bell Of Justice rings in our affrighted ears. The Gripes Or wounded Conscience far exceed all stripes,

Yet are small types, Of those sharp pains Rebellion justly fears. See how Th' unmasked people hiss us out of doors, And call us Knave. Because though We, their Servants be, We made them but our Slaves. For since We laid the Country wast like ravenous Boor••, They seek our bloods, Our Hands Because they prize their Liberties, But to devour their Goods. We dip'd in Royal blood, to take his Lands At our Commands, And made 3. Kingdoms headless at one blow. The strife We caus'd was chiefly to cut off his life, With cursed Knife; He that was Vertues Friend, must be our foe made Religion do our Drudgery to base Ends. But now we find, They that do sow pretences, mow A Harvest of the wind. And now When clamorous vengeance calling for amends Begins our grief, Our Friend the Devil, with his Evill, Can give us no relief. Go search All Lands beneath the Suns Star-spangled perch,

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You'l find no Church Like ours, while reverend Bishops held the chair. But those We know with our designs would never close; And therefore chose In their steads to set up Extempore prayer. Poached Eyes, And words twang'd through a whining Lectu∣rers Nose Did fill our Purses, That many have Rings, and better things, Which now give only curses. And thus Hell was our Text, though Heav'n were our Gloze And Will our Reason, Religion we made free of Hocus trade, And voted Loyalty Treason. Since we With wicked Armes have made the Crosier flee, Errour is free To lay her nets, to make weak minds her prize, All Sects, Schismes cursed Heresies with stubborn necks, Corrupt our Texts, And crane up Scripture to maintain their lyes. You see The crop-ear'd Anabaptist sowing Tares In every ground, Though the Plagues of War, wherever they are The Church and State confound. So do The Roman Noses vend their Popish wares, By twylight still; And the Quaker half mad, though he looks so sad, Grinds in the Jesuites Mill.

Our Drums Did drown our Process, and our Writs; our Plums Bid kiss our Bums, We sent our Laws and Persons to the Tower; From whence To be deliver'd, 'twas in vain to sence By talking sense; No Habeas Corpus in the Court of Power. The Gown Did stoop the Reverend Velvet to a crew In short Red-coats, Who many a day, have made you pay, For cutting your own throats. VVe rob'd The whole of Food to pamper out the few, Exciz'd your Wares, And tax'd you round, sixpence the pound, And massacred your Bears. But now Despairs black clouds do hang upon our brow, For all do bow Their hearts to their true Shepheard, Charles their King. And we, The Wolfish Rulers now must Subjects be To destiny, And end our Juncto in a fatal string. Then learn All future Traytors by our Tragick doom, E're 'tis too late, Lest when you make Kingdoms to shake, You copy out your fate.

VVe know Our high affronts to Church and State make Room For us in Hell; But yet we'l hope, till the sad Rope Sayes bid the VVorld farewell. Facit indignatio versum.

The Holy Sisters.

SIx of the Femal sex, and purer sect, Had conference of late to this effect, How they might change the Popish Name of Preaching? Then quoth the first it shall be called Teaching. The second newly warm'd with heavenly Nectar, Fell to commend the sacred name of Lecture. The third not half so learned, yet full as wise, Said, she like it best to call't The Exercise. Nay, quoth the fourth, the Brethren, as I hear, Do term it Speaking in Northampton-shire. The fifth with none of these yet did accord, But term'd it purely handling of the Word. Then, quoth the sixth (Standing) a name most fit; For Preachers in the Pulpit seldome sit. For Application then, quoth they, we fear Our selves not sufficient th'use to bear, Nor to conceive the meaning of some man; Some able Brethren we must have, who can, Being full of Spirit, Minister supply, And help 'gainst our Carnal infirmity;

Repeat the Business, and all faults redresse; Such, who with zeal and heat can fully presse The Point home, that so the Cas•• being clear, We may remember't sweetly many a year. And though in Concord Frailties we oft fall, The help of such good men will raise us all, By putting in New strength and life, whereby Being edified, We grow and fructifie. Thus the Six Sisters did at last consent, And so departed thence Incontinent.

The Second Part of Saint George for England.

To the Tune of To drive the cold Winter away.

NOw the Rump is confounded, There's an end of the Roundhead, Who hath been such a bane to our Nation, He hath now plaid his part, And's gone out, like a fart, Together with his reformation, For by his good favour, He hath left a bad savour, But's no matter, wee'l trust him no more; Kings and Queens may appear Once again in our Sphere, Now the Knaves are turned out of door. And drive the cold Winter away.

Se••, Nevil, and Vane, With the rest of that train,

Are into Oceana fled, Sir Arthur the brave, That's as arrant a Knave, Has Harrington's Rota in's Head, But hee's now full of cares For his Foals, and his Mares, As when he was routed before: But I think he despairs, By his Armes, or his Prayers, To set up the Rump any more. And drive the cold Winter away.

I should never have thought, That a Monk could have wrought Such a Reformation so soon; That House, which of late Was the Jaques of our State, Will ere long be a House of Renown; How good wits did jump, In abusing the Rump, Whilst the House was press'd by the Rabble; But our Hercules Monk, Though it grievously stunk, Now hath cleans'd that Augaean stable. And drive the cold Winter away.

And now Mr. Prynne, With the rest may come in, And take their Places again, For the House is made sweet, For those Members to meet, Though part of the Rump yet remain; Nor need they to fear, Though the Breeches be there,

Which were wrong'd both behind and before, For he saith, 'twas a chance, And forgive him this once, And He swears he will do so no more. And drive the cold Winter away.

'Tis true there are some, Who are still for the Bum, Such Tares will grow up with the Wheat, And there they will be, till a Parliament come That can give them a total defeat: But yet I am told, That the Rumpers do hold, That the Saints may swim with the tyde: Nor can it be Treason, But Scripture and Reason, Still to close with the stronger side. And drive the cold Winter away.

Those Lawyers o'th' House, As Baron Wild-goose With treason Hill, Whitlock, and Say, Were the bane of Laws, And our Good Old Cause, And 'twere well if such were away: Some more there are to blame, Whom I care not to name, That are Men of the very same ranks, 'Mongst whom there is one, That to Devil Barebone, For his ugly Petition gave thanks. And drive the cold Winter away.

But I hope by this time, Hee'l confess 'twas a crime, To abet such a damnable crew, Whose Petition was drawn By Alcoran Vane, Or else by Corbet the Jew: By it you may know, What the Rump meant to do, And what Religion to frame; So 'twas time for St. George, That Rump to disgorge, And to send it from whence it first came, &c. And drive the cold Winter away.

A New Kickshaw for the queasie Stomack of Sathan and all those that fight under his Banner.

To the Tune of Cook Laurell.

YOu pitifull Rimers now be you all dumb; Let no Dames of the Dunghill sing Ditties a∣bout St. George and the Dragon, and little Tom Thumb, With Wallingford House and the Rump are worn out. Here's an Ola Polidra so pleasant and new, The Tayle of the State had n'ere such a Hogooe. With a hey down down, &c.

Come listen you Cooks and learn my new Dish, 'Tis that that will fill your Guests bellyes with laughter,

'Tis a meat neither made of flesh nor fish, But will make all that tast it to lick their lips af∣ter. Here's an Ola, &c.

First take you three Farts from the Parliament-Breech, The head of an Onion to rubb on your Platter, The Hums and the Ha's of Mr. Scot's speech, Spoke twice to no purpose, and mince not the matter, Here's an Ola, &c.

Take the Linings of Alderman Atkins his Hose, Some oth' cobling Collonel's Shooe-makers wax, The juyce of Tichburn's and ••reton's Toes, 'Twill settle your Stomacks, and strengthen your Backs. Here's an Ola, &c.

If an Independent Sermon you hear, Be sure you take all that is spoke to the Text, Some of my Lord Pride his Zeal for a Fear, And a Prayer by the Spirit made by that Part comes next. Here's an Ola, &c.

Take Munson's chaste motions towards a Wench, The Sword of the Spirit handled by Gough, The fear of the Judges that sate on the Bench When the Head of this Isle by the Tayle was lopt off. Here's an Ola, &c.

Take all the old Speaker's Honesty whole; For if it be lessen'd 'twill prove little or none; And, if you have room, you may stop up the hole With the Knighthood and Wisedom of Sir John his Son. Here's an Ola, &c.

Take one of Sir Arthur's passionate dumps, Sir Harry Vane's Harry Vane's hearty Prayers for Monck, The froth of the Good Old Cause worne to the stumps. And modest Harry Martins discourse for a Punk. Here's an Ola, &c.

Of Publick Faith an Ounce if you can get it, Stew'd well in an Honest Committee-mans skull, Then with the Coales of Hugh Peter's Devotion beat it, 'Twill give all the Devills in Hell Belly full. Here's an Ola, &c.

Take the Whites of a Puritans lifted-up eyes, And the Saffron engendred on a Presbyters gums, Mr William ••illye's Astrogolical Lyes, And the meditations of Salloway biting his thumbs. Here's an Ola, &c.

Of Lam••ert's Religion as much as a Nut, And of his Wive's Honesty much thereabout, With the spirit that moveth holy Brethren to rut, And maketh the holy Sisters hold out. Here's an Ola, &c.

Sow it in an Excise-man's Conscience well fear'd, And in a French-man's Codpiece 2. hours let it stew, Then strow it o're with a Puritan's beard; 'Tis a Dish for the Devil and for his Dam too. Here's Ola, &c.

But then if it want a Man to say grace, It must be done by one that's a Sinner, An Independent Doctor just turn'd out on's place, Must needs be most fit to give thanks for this Din∣ner.

England's Triumph: or, The Rump Routed by a true Assertor of Englands Interest, General George Monk.

A SONNET. To the Tune of, Fill up the Parliament full.

WHat makes the Souldiers To stand to their Arms? 'Tis for what they profest, To keep us from harmes, The Members secluded Comes in by fwarmes To fill up the Parliament full, full, full, To fill up the Parliament full.

You know that the City Gates Late were thrown down The Walls too were order'd By Parliament frown: But General M••nk has pleas'd Souldier and Gown. And fill'd up the Parliament full, full, full, And fill up the Parliament full.

A dispute there was had By the Members secluded, Brave Monk was the Umpire And found them deluded, But Englands great joy Is now wholly concluded: For he's fill'd up the Parl. full, full, full, For hee's fill'd up the Parl. full.

Sir Arthur the Valiant Must make his Speech large, Left the Members Excluded Lay Treason to's Charge. Hee'd better have dealt With his New-castle Barge, Than to s••e the Old P. full, full, full, Than to see the old P. full.

The Aldermen Grave, And the Commons o'th' City Imprisoned were, The more is the pity, But General Monk said, That I will acquit ye, For the P. now shall be full, full, full, For the P. now shall be full.

Have you not seen Fresh Flowers in the Spring; And bave you not heard A Cage-bird to sing? But if the Cage-Members Would bring in the King.— It would fill up the Parl. full, full, full, It would fill up the Parl. full.

The Parliament now will Come into their Geers, For Secluded P— (That once lost his Ears) Marcht in with his Rapier For Commons and Peers, To fill up the Parliament full, full, full, To fill up the Parliament full.

Whose often Declaring Has furnisht the Nation With Parliament Arguments Of the old Fashion, And would have both King, Lords and Peers in this Nation To fill up the Parliament full, full, full, To fill up the Parliament full.

Our brave General Monk We bound are to thank, The Honest Lord Fairfax Has plaid (too) his prank, No thanks to be given To the Rump nor the Shank To fill up the Parliament full, full, full, To fill up the Parliament full.

Had the City ne're mov'd, Nor the Prentices strove, They'd lost their Old Charter: But MONK had a love To challenge the Grand Ones Which Mischiefs did move; And so fill'd up the Parl full, full, full, And so fill'd up the Parliament full.

The Parliament-Complment: or, the Re-admission of the Secluded Mem∣bers to the Discharge of their long retar∣ded Trust.

SInce sixteen hundred forty and odd, We have soundly been lashed with our own rod And we have bowed our selves down at a Ty∣rants nod, Which no body can deny.

Whe have seen a new thing call'd a Council of State, U••held by a Power that's now out of date, Put to th•• Q••estion, by th' Members of Forty eight, Which, &c▪

We have seen what we hope we shall ne'r see agin Now Lambert and Desbrow are snar'd in the gin, The tayl cunningly pieced unto the skin. Which, &c.

A sword that has frighted our Laws out of door, A Back sword I wot, that must cut so no more, By the honou•• of Monk now quitting that score, Which, &c.

A Vote lately called the Judgement o' th' House, To be esteemed and reputed not worth a Louse,

And the Grandee of Portsmouth made a fine chouse Which, &c.

We have seen an Assessment, a thing for Taxes, Though the Common-wealth wane the private Waxes: Swords into Plowshares, and such Bills into Axes, Which, &c.

Another new story of Qualification, That belong'd to no honest man of the Nation, Like the ill contrived Authors, quite out of Fa∣shion. Which, &c.

Original sin was damn'd by that Law, The Son of a Cavalier made a Jack-straw, To be chewed again by their ravenous Jaw, Which, &c.

To fill up the House, and to shuffle the deal, New Writs issued out, for their new Common∣weal, But it's not worth asking who is't payes the Seal, Which, &c.

I wonder who payes the late Parliament Printers, That Place they may hold as many Summers as Winters, And wish their Presses were broken in splinters, Which, &c.

A great many Traytors by them lately made, Makes Treason be thought a Common trade,

Sir George Booth and Jack Lambert a while in the shade, Which, &c.

We shall now sure give over that word sequester, Now the tail is cured of that rankling fester, The twentieth of April is much about Easter, Which, &c.

How many thanks of the House ha' been idely spent Upon people that still have been Male-content, But they must fall from those dainties in this shriving Lent, Which, &c▪

That honourable favour no more shall be given To the factious merit of a Party Hell-driven, For now our twenty years odds will be even, Which, &c.

Then room for our Prisoners detain'd in the Tower, And away with the new Lieutenants power, Who's minting the widdowed Good Old Causes Dower, Which, &c.

Sir George Booth shall not think this a hit of sate, Nor Excuse his Keeper whose Warrant's out 'f date, We shall see them all cry Peccavi too late, Which, &c.

Eleven years Mischief, tumults and rage, Are the onely Memorials of this Common-wealths age, And all to be thankt by Hasl••rigg the sage, Which, &c.

Let our Liberty-keepers be chang'd to Restorer, Let our Peace carry Truth and Duty before her, Hee's a Fool and a Knave that else will adore, Which, &c.

This Janus-like freedom, though it please not all, And aversly doth look on the Scepter and Ball, Will shut up his Temple at next Common-hall, Which, &c.

Then let's pray to Great Jove, that made Monk so kind To our desperate estate, to put him in mind, With the rest of our Worthies of the Great Thing behind, Which no body can deny.

The Cock-Crowing at the Approach of a Free-Parliament: Or,

Good news in a Ballot, More sweet to your Pallat Than Fig, Raison, or stewed Prune is: A Countrey wit made it Who ne'r got the Trade yet; And Mad Tom of Bedlam the Tune is.

1.

MOre Wine Boy; to be sober Is sottish in my Opinion,

When so near we do see The day that will free Three Kingdoms and a Dominion.

CHORUS. Then off with your Pots, English, Irish and Scots, And loyal Cambro-Britains, From Lobster-like jump And the Head-playing Rump You'l soon have an Acquittance.

2.

Though Monk's mind lyes not open To every mind that's busie, A Free Parliament Is his intent, No Noll, nor Lambert is he. Cho. Then off with, &c.

3.

A Parliament untainted, (Away with secluded Members: New flame it might make, Again to untake, And stir up rebellious Embers.) Cho. Then off with, &c.

4.

A Parliament of Members That in Blood and Estate are no small Boyes•• The devilish Rump-elves Are for none but themselves, Those will be (like God) for us all boyes. Cho. Then off with, &c.

5.

Such a Parliament more happy Then Fishes will create you,

Though no trade you do drive But to tipple and swive, You'l be plump in flesh and estate too. Cho. Then off with, &c.

6.

A Hound and a Hawk no longer Shall be tokens of disaffection, A Cock-fight shall cease To be breach of the Peace, And an Horse-race an Insurrection. Cho. Then off with, &c.

7.

The Stages to their Freedom Shall be restored soon after, And Poets like Lictors Shall scourge our Afflictors, And make our old Suff'rings our Laughter, Cho Then off with, &c.

8.

W — P — shall be the Master O'th' Revells (for's contrition,) His Histrio-mastyx Was one of his rash tricks, E'r his early circumcision. Cho. Then off with, &c.

9.

We'l preach and pray 'thout canting, In a Language Heaven knows better▪ Than ah Lord repeating, And Hum and Ha bleating With calves of the Lips in the Letter•• Cho. Then off with, &c.

10.

Wee'l no more to enslave us Wear Chains, but to boast our Riches, We Lobsters will eat, And not be their meat, When the right Rump wear•• the Breache••. Cho. Then off with, &c.

11.

All Nations shall adore us, Stiff Don at our foot shall tumble, The Dutch-men shall fear us, And all to M••jn Here us; And French cry votre tres-humble. Cho. Then off with, &c.

12.

The Citizens shall flourish, Lord Maiors, when the office expires, Shall a Knight-hood obtein, If they're not of the strain Of Excise, nor Church-land Buyers. Cho. Then off with, &c.

13.

This London had effected E'r now, and honour had got so, But for Knaves Ireton And Titchburn were known, When the Drugster's Son was not so. Cho. Then off with, &c.

14.

Each year shall bring a harvest To th' Plough-man, who was vext ill When but every fourth year By the Tax-Calendar It came like the Bissextile. Cho. Then off with, &c.

15.

His Rent he shall pay duly, Nor to spend shall he want his groate'r; His Landlord shall be Of his Beer to him free, And of's flesh to his Wife and his Daughter. Cho. Then off with, &c.

16.

But now my furious fancy A Project is concocting When God shall have sent A true Parliament, What a Rope shall we do with this mocking? Cho. Then off with, &c.

17.

Like Mare with dock to th' Manger, To shew it no cheat at all is It like one doth appear, But it is none, and where The head should have been, the tail is: Cho. Then off with, &c.

19.

Or we'l send for the Ghost of Lorrell, Who choakt so neatly the Peak-feast, And hee'l Carbonado It with little a-doe, To make the Devil a Breakfast. Cho. Then off with, &c.

20.

We read of a Rump in St. Austin, That (before this of ours) out-went all, Which sounds did let ••ly As articularly, As if it had a Lenthal Cho. Then off with, &c.

20.

But nere poor Rump was firked Like this by wits, and no wits. Nor ever was game So fit as this same To enter and flesh young Poets. Cho. Then off with, &c.

21.

More good things I could utter, But now I find by a token, That the play will begin, And good fortune come in E'r the Prologue be quite spoken. Cho. Then off with, &c.

22.

Charls Wanes's 'ore the new Chimney, The Suns near our Horizon, The Fowles of the night Are taking their flight, Ere Cheshire prey they seize on. Cho. Then off with, &c.

23.

Wee'l drink and pray no longer For the King in mystical fashions: But with Trumpets sound His Health shall go round, And our Prayers be Proclamations. Cho. Then off with, &c.

24.

Now Iockey, Teag, and Shenken, Shall boast no more of St. Andrew, St. Patrick, or St. Davie, But St George, who, to save 'ee, 'Gainst Dragon-Rump like a man drew.

Chorus. Then off with your Pots, English Irish and Scots, And loyal Cambro-Britains, From Lobster-like jump, And the Headplaying Rump You'l soon have an Acquittance.

Saint George and the Dragon.

To the Tune of, Old Souldjour of the Queens, &c.

NEws, News: — Here's the Occurrences, and a new Mercurius: A Dialogue betwixt Haslerigg the bafled, and Ar∣thur the furious: With Iretons readings upon Legitimate and Spu∣rious, Proving that a Saint may be the Son of a Whore; for the satisfaction of the curious. From a Rump insatiate as the Sea, Libera nos Domine.

Here's the true reason of the Cities infatuation: Ireton has made it drunk with the cup of abomina∣tion: That is, — the Cup of the Whore, after the Geneva interpretation: Which, with the Juyce of Tichburn's Grapes, must needs cause Intoxication. From a Rump, &c.

Here's the Whipper whipt—by a friend to George, that whipt Iack, that whipt the Breech, That whipt the Nation, as long as he could stand over it: — After which It was it self Re—jerk'd, by the sage Author of this Speech: Methinks a Rump should go as well with a Scotch spur, as with a Switch. From a Rump, &c.

This Rump hath many a Rotten and unruly Member, Give the General the Oath, cryes one; — (but his Conscience being a little tender,) I'll Abjure you, with a Horse-pox, quoth George,— and make you remember The 'Leaventh of February, longer than the Fifth of November. From a Rump, &c.

With that — Monk leaves (in Rump assembled) — the three Estates. But oh, —how the Citizens hugg'd him for break∣ing down their Gates, For tearing up their Postes and Chaines, and for clapping-up their Mates, (When they saw, that he brought them Plasters for their broken Pates.) From a Rump, &c.

In truth, this ruflle put the Town in great disor∣der, Some Knaves (in Office) smil'd, —expecting 'Twould go furder;

But at the last—my life on't, George is no Rumper —said the Recorder: For there never was either Honest man, or M••nck of that Order. From a Rump, &c.

And so it prov'd, for Gentlemen, sayes the General, I'll make you amends; Our Greeting was a little untoward, but we'll part Friends, A little time shall shew you which way my Design tends, And that, besides the good of Church and State, I have no other ends. From a Rump, &c.

His Excellence had no sooner pass'd this Declara∣tion and Promise, But in steps Secretary Scot, — the Rumps man Thomas, With Luke, their lame Evangelist — (the De∣vil keep 'um from us,) To shew Monk what precious Members of Church and State the Bummha's. From a Rump, &c.

And now comes the Supplication of the Mem¦bers under the Rod, Nay, My Lord, (cryes the Brewers Clerk) good my Lord, — for the love of God, Consider yourself, us, — and this poor Nation, and that Tyrant abroad;

Don't leave us:—but George gave him a Shrugg, instead of a Nodd. From a Rump, &c.

This mortal Silence was followed with a most hi∣deous Noyse Of Free-Parliament Bells, and Rump-confounding Boyes: Crying, Gueld the Rogues, Singe their Tayles — when with a low Voyce; Fire and Sword, by this Light, cryes Tom, let's look to our Toyes. From a Rump, &c.

Never were wretched Members in so sad a Plight: Some were Broyl'd, — some Toasted, others burnt out-right. Nay against Rumps so Pittylesse was their Rage and Spite, That not a Citizen would kiss his Wife that Night. From a Rump, &c.

By this time, Death, and Hell appear'd in the ghast∣ly Looks Of Scot, and Robinson; (those Legislative Rooks) And it must needs put the Rump most damnably off the Hooks, To see, that when God has sent Meat, the Devil should send Cooks. From a Rump, &c.

But Providence, their old Friend, brought these Saints off, at Last,

And through the Pikes and the Flames, un-dismem∣bred they past, Although (God wot) with many struglings, and much Hast. (For — Members, — or no Members was but a measuring Cast) From a Rump, &c.

Being come to Whitehall; — there's the dismal mone: Let Monk be Damn'd, cryes Arthur, in a terrible tone: That Traytor: —and those Cukoldly Rogues that set him on. (But, tho' the Knight Spits blood, 'tis observ'd that he Draws none. From a Rump, &c.

The Plague Bawle you, cryes Harry Martyn, you have brought us to this Condition, You must be canting, and be Pox'd, — with your Bare-bones Petition, And take in that Bull-headed, splay-footed Member of Circumcision, That Bacon-fac'd Jew, Corbet: that Son of Perdition. From a Rump, &c.

Then in steps Driv'ling Mounson, to take up the Squabble: That Lord; which first taught the use of the Wood∣den Dagger, and Laddle, He, —that out-does Jack Pudding, at a Custard, or a Caudle.

And were the Best Fool in Europe, but that he wants a Bauble. From a Rump, &c.

More was said, to little Purpose; the next News, is a Declaration From the Rump; for a Free-State, according to the Covenant of the Nation, And a Free-Parliament, under Oath, and Qua∣lification, Where none shall be Elect, but Members of Repro∣bation. From a Rump, &c.

Here's the Tail Firk'd; a Piece acted lately with great applause, With a Plea for the Prerogative Breech, and the Good Old Cause: Proving, that Rumps, and Members are antienter than Laws: And that a Bumme Divided, is never the worse for the Flawes. From a Rump, &c.

But all things have their Period, and Fate, An Act of Parliament dissolves a Rump of State: Members grow weak; and Tayles themselves runs out of Date: And yet thou shalt not Dye; (Dear Breech) thy Fame I'll celebrate. From a Rump, &c.

Here lies a Pack of Cheats, that did their Souls, and Country Sell.

For Dirt: The Devil was their good Lord; him they serv'd well; By his Advice, they Stood, and Acted; and by his President they fell, (Like Lucifer) making but one step betwixt Hea∣ven, and Hell. From a Rump insatiate as the Sea, Libera nos Domine.

A Free-Parliament Letany.

To the Tune of, An old Souldier of the Queens.

1.

MOre Ballads; — here's a spick—and—span new Supplication; By Order of a Committee for the Reformation, To be read in all Churches and Chappels of this Nation, Upon pain of Slavery, and Sequestration. From Fools and Knaves, in our Parliament-free Libera nos Domine.

2.

From those that ha' more Religion, and lesse Conscience than their Fellows; From a Representative, that's fearfull, and jealous; From a starting Jadish People, that is troubled with the yellows, And a Priest that blows the Cole— (a Turd in the Bellows.) From Fools and Knaves, &c.

3.

From Shepheards, that leade their Flocks into the Briers; And then, Fleece 'um. — F••om Vow-breakers, and King-tryers: Of Church and Crown-lands from both Sellers and Buyers: From the Children of him, that's the Father of Lyers. From Fools and Knaves, &c.

4.

From the Doctrine and Discipline of * 1.21 now, and anon; Preserve us, and our wives: from ‖ 1.22 John T & Saint † 1.23 John Like Master, like Man, every way but one: The Master has a large Conscience and the Man has none. From Fools and Knaves, &c.

5.

From Major Generals, — Army—Officers; and that Phanatique Crew: From the Parboyl'd Pimp Scot; and from Good-face the Jew: From old Mildmay, that in Cheapside mistook his * 1.24 Que••e, And from him that wont Pledge— give the Devil his due. From Fools and Knaves, &c.

6.

From long-winded Speeches, and not a wise word, From a Gospel-Ministry setled by th' Sword,

From the Act of a Rump, that stinks when 'tis stir'd; From a Knight of the Post, and a Cobling Lord, From Fools and Knaves, &c.

7▪

From all the Rich People that ha' made us Poor; From a Speaker that creeps to the House by a Back-dore: From that Badger Robinson, (that limps, and bites sore:) And that dog in a doublet Arthur,—that will do so no more From Fools and Knaves, &c.

8.

From a certain Sly Knave with a Beastly name: From a Parl'ment that's wilde, and a People that's tame. From Skippon, Titchbourne, Ireton, — and a∣nother of the Same; From a Dunghill Cock, and a Hen of the Game. From Fools and Knaves, &c.

9.

From all those that sate in the High Court of Justice; From Usurpers, that stile themselves the Peoples Trustees; From an old Rump, in which neither Profit nor Gust is; And from the recov'ry of that which now in the Dust is. From Fools and Knaves, &c.

10.

From a back-sliding Saint, that pretends t' Ac∣quiesce;

From crossing of Proverbs (let 'um Hang that confess) From a Sniveli••g Cause in a Pontifical dress: And two ‖ 1.25 Lawyer's, with the Devil, And his Damm in a mess. From Fools and Knaves, &c.

11.

From those that trouble the Waters to mend the Fishing; And fight the Lord's Battels, under the Devill's Commission: Such as eat up the Nation, while the Govern∣ment's a Dishing, And from a People when it should be Doing stands Wishing. From Fools and Knaves, &c.

12.

From an everlasting Mock-Parliament;— and from none; From Straffords Old friends, — Harry, Jack and John. From the Sollicitor's Wolfe Law, deliver our King's Sonne: And from the Resurrection of the Rump that is dead and gone. From Fools and Knaves, &c.

13.

From Foreigne Invasion and Commotions at Home, From our present Distraction, and from worse to come: From the same hand again, Smectymnuus or the Bumme:

And from taking Geneva in our way to Rome. From Fools and Knaves, &c.

14.

From a Hundred thousand pound Tax, to main∣tain Knaves and Whores: (But it is well given to These, that turn'd Those out of Dores) From undoing our Selves, in plastring old Sores: He that set them a work, let him pay their Scores. From Fools and Knaves, &c.

15.

From Saints, and Tender-Consciences in ••uff; From Mounson in a Fome; and Haslerig in a Huff; From both Men and Women that think they ne∣ver have Enough. And from a Fools Head that looks through a Chain and a Ruff. From Fools and Knaves, &c.

16.

From those that would divide the Gen'ral and the Citty; From Harry Martins Whore, that was neither Sound nor Pretty; From a Faction, that ha's neither Brain nor Pitty; From the Mercy of a Phanatique Committee▪ From Fools and Knaves, &c.

17.

Preserve us good Heaven from intrusting those, That ha' Much to Get, and Little to Loose; That Murther'd the Father, and the Son would Depose. (Sure they cann't be Our Friends, that are their Countrey's Foes,) From Fools and Knaves, &c.

18.

From Bradshaw••'s Presumption, and from Hoyle's Despairs; From rotten Members; blinde Guides; Preaching Aldermen; and false May'rs; From Long Knives, Long Eares, Long Parlia∣ments, and Long Pray'rs, In mercy to this Nation, — Deliver us and our Heirs. From Fools and Knaves, &c. Libera nos Domine.

A Dialogue betwixt TOM and DICK: the former a Country-man, the other a Citizen•• Presented to his Excellency and the Council of State, at Dra∣pers-Hall in London, March 28. 1660.

To the Tune of I'le never love thee more.

Tom.

NOw would I give my life to see This wondrous Man of might.

Dick.

Dost see that Jolly Lad? That's he; I'le warrant him hee's Right. There's a true Trojan in his face: Observe him o're and o're.

Dick.

Come Tom; If ever George be base,

Chorus

Ne'r trust good-fellow more.

Hee's none of that Phantastique Brood, That Murther while they Pray; That Trusse and Cheat us for our Good; (All in a Godly way,) He drinks no Blood, and They no Sack Into their Guts will poure. But if George does not do the Knack,

Cho.

Ne'r trust good-fellow more. His quiet Conscience needs no Guard; Hee's Brave, but full of Pitty.

Tom.

Yet by your leave he knock'd so hard, H'ad like t' awak'd the City.

Dick

Fool, 'Twas the Rump that let a Fart, The Chaines and Gates it tore, But if George bears not a true heart,

Cho.

Ne'r trust good-fellow more.

Tom.

Your City blades are cunning Rooks; How rarely you collog••e him? But when your Gates flew off the Hooks, You did as much be-rogue him.

Dick.

Pug'h— 'Twas the Rump did only feel The blows the City bore. But if George ben't as true as Steel,

Cho.

Ne'r trust good-fellow more.

Tom.

Come, by this Hand, wee'l crack a quart, Thou'lt pledge his health, I trow.

Tom.

Tope boy, Dick— A lusty dish my heart, Away w'ot; Tom— Let it go. Drench me you slave in a full Bowl, I'll take't and 'twere a score.

Dick.

Nay, if George be'nt a hearty soul,

Cho.

Ne'r trust Good-fellow more.

Tom.

But hark you, Sirrah, we're too loud, Hee'l Hang us by and by. Me'thinks; he should be vengeance Proud?

Dick.

No more than Theee or I.

Tom.

Why then I'le give him the best Blade That e're the Bilbo wore.

Dick.

If George prove not a Bonny Lad,

Cho.

Ne're trust Good-fellow more.

Tom.

'Twas well he came, we'd mawl'd the Tail. — We've all thrown up our Farms, And from the Musket to the Flayl, Put all our Men in Arms. The Girles had ta'ne the Members down, Ne're saw such things before.

Dick.

If George speak not the Town our own,

Cho.

Ne're trust Good-fellow more.

Dick.

But prethee, are the Folk so mad?

Tom.

So mad say'st? — They're undone, There's not a Penny to be had, And ev'ry Mothers Son M••st fight, if he intend to eat, Grow Valiant now he is Poor.

Dick.

Come—yet if Geore don't do the feat,

Cho.

Ne're trust Good-fellow more.

Tom.

Why Richard, 'tis a Devilish thing, We're not left worth a Groat. My Doll has sold her Wedding-ring, And Sue has pawn'd her Coat.

The Sniv'ling Rogues abus'd our Squire, And called our Mistriss Whore.

Dick.

Yet— if George don't what we require, Ne're trust Good-fellow more.

Tom.

By this good day; I did but Speak, They took my Py-ball'd Mare; And put the Carri'on Wench to th'squeak: (Things go against the Hair.) Our Prick-ear'd Cor'nel looks as bigg Still, as he did before.

Dick.

And yet if George don't hum his Gigg,

Ch.

Ne're trust Good-fellow more. 'Faith, Tom our Case is much at one; We're broke for want of Trade; Our City's baffled and undone, Betwixt the Rump and Blade. We've emptied both our Veins & Baggs Upon a F••ctious Score. If George compassion not our Raggs

Cho.

Ne're trust Good-fellow more.

Tom.

But what dost thou think should be the Cause Whence all these Mischiefs spring?

Dick

Our damned breach of Oaths and Laws; Our Murther of the King. We have been Slaves since Charls his reign▪ We liv'd like Lords before. If George don't set all right again,

Cho.

Ne're trust Good-fellow more.

Tom.

Our Ʋicar—(And hee's one that knows) Told me once, — I know what▪ —

(And yet the Thief is woundy Close)

Dick.

'Tis all the better;—That H'as too much Honesty and Wit, To let his Tongue run o're; If this prove not a luchy hit,

Chorus.

Ne're trust Good-fellow more. Shall's ask him, what he means to do?

Tom.

—'Good faith, with all my heart; Thou mak'st the better Leg o'th' Two: Take Thou the Better part: Il'e follow, if thoul't lead the Van.

Dick.

Content; — I'le march before. If George prove not a gallant man,

Chor.

Ne're trust Good-fellow more. My Lord;— in Ʋs the Nation craves But what you're bound to do.

Tom.

—We have liv'd Drudges: Ric.—And we:

Both.

We would not dye so too. Restore us but our Laws agen;

Chorus

Th' unborn shall thee adore; If George denies us his Amen, Ne're trust Good-fellow more.

A Psalm of Mercy. Usula, (who cry's Ends of Gold and Sil∣ver) reads, and all the Sisters sing.

To the Tune of, Now thanks to the Powers below▪ Sing it in the Nose.

WHat a Reprobate crew is here, Who will not have Jesus Reign? But send all our Saints To Bonds and Restraint, And kill 'um again and again? Let's rise in a holy fear, And fight for our heavenly King▪ We will ha' no power But Vane in the Tower To rule us in any thing! Come Sister, and sing An Hymne to our King, Who sitteth on high Degree; The Men at Whitehall, And the wicked shall fall, And hey, then up go We. A Match, quoth my sister Joyce; Contented, quoth Rachel too; Quoth Abigaile, yea, and Faith, verily, And Charity, let 't be so.

Our Monarchy is the Fift, Shall last for a thousand years; O'th' wicked on earth There shall be a dearth, When Jesus himself appears! And we are the Babes of Grace, The fruits of an holy Seed; For old Father Cann (That Reverend man) Begat us in Word and Deed. The earth is our own, For Title there's none, But in the right Heirs of Sion; Then let us be free, For verily we No King ha' but Judah's Lion. 'Tis verity, quoth old Joane, And Sooth, quoth my sister Prue, 'Tis manifest truth, quoth mortified Ruth, And the Gospel is so, say's Su.

The Bishops and Bells shall down, For we have an holy Call; The Saints are beyond All Order and Bond Of duty to Priests of Baal. Their Pipes and Organs too, Their Superstitious Shirt, Their Canons and Bulls, (To cozen poor Gulls,) Wee'le trample 'um in the Dirt. No Ordinance shall Command us all,

For we are above their thrall. We care not a Straw For Reason or Law; For Conscience is all in all. Ay marry, quoth Agatha, And Temperance, eke also, Quoth Hanna, it's just, and Mary it must And shall be, quoth Grace, I trow.

The Steeple-house Lands are ours, Kings, Queens, Delinquents too, And James's and all The Court at White-hall, And Somerset-house also. For The'balds it is our right, And Marrow-bone-Park to boot, And Eltham's our own. At Endfield there's none, But our selves that shall grub a root. And Greenwich shall be For Tenements, free For Saint to possess Pell-mell. And where all the Sport Is at Hampton Court, Shall be for our selves to dwell. 'Tis blessed, quoth Bathsheba, And Clemence, w' ar' all agreed; 'Tis right, quoth Gartrude, and fit say's sweet Jude. And Th••m••sine yea indeed.

For Husbands we shall have have none, But Brothers in purity;

We will not be Wives And tye up our Lives To Villanous slavery; But couple in love and fear; When mov'd by the spirit to't; For there is no sin To let a Saint in, When he has the grace to do't. And thus are we taught, No folly is wrought, When Brothers will execise▪ Both Kiffin and Hills (No Printer of Bills) Have prov'd it in ample wise. 'Tis true, quoth Elizabeth, And 'tis very good, quoth Pris, And Aquila too will have it be so, And so will my Sister Si••.

What though the King Proclaim's Our Meetings no more shall be; In private we may Hold forth the right way, And be, as we should be, free, Our Husbands wee'l make believe, We go but to take the aire, Or visit a Nurse, And lighten their Purse With a little dissembling Prayer. Or if they be crosse, (Let um stand to the losse) We'l tempt our Apprentices, (By writing a Dash, To cozen the Cash,)

And make 'um meer Novices. Oh very well said, quoth Con, And so will I do, say's Franck. And Mercy cry's I, and Mat, really, And I'm o' that mind, quoth Thank.

Wee'l cut off the wicked Rout, And bath us all in their Blouds; Their Houses and Land Wee'l have at Command. And common upon their Good••s No mortal King nor Priest, No Lord, nor Duke wee'l have, Wee'l grind 'um to Grist, And live as we lift, And we will do wonders brave; Come Dor••as and Cloe, With Lois and Zoe, Young Letice and Beterice and Jane, Phill, Dorothy, Mawd, Come troup it abroad, For now is our time to reign. Sa, sa, quoth my sister Bab, And Kill 'um, quoth Margery; Spare none, cry's old Tib, nor quarter say's Sib. And hey! for our Monarchy.

Let's all take the Sacrament, That we to each other be true, And kill without pity In Country and City, The wicked ungodly Crew. We'l favour no Sex, nor Age,

No Quality, nor Degree; But all shall to Pot, Both English and Scot, That hinder our Liberty. The Maior of the Town, (That terrible Brown,) And Cox and the Captains all, Wee'l torture and slay In a merciless way, And mince 'um, like herbs, as small. Ay, that is the way, quoth Emm, Quoth Phoebe, we conquer shall; Say's Lucy, 'tis well; quoth Jylian and Nell, 'Twill make us amend for all.

A Loyal Wish.

What Faith, Hope, and Charity, Fanaticks in Truth profess, By Germanie's Woe, And our Rebels ‖ 1.26 here too, Well may we do more than guess Th' ar' just like Gadarens Swine, Which the Devils did drive and bewitch! An Herd, set on evil, Will run to the Devil, And's Dam, when their * 1.27 Tails do itch: The let 'um run on! Say's Ned, Tom, and Iohn: Ay! let 'um be hang'd, quoth Mun! Th'ar' mine quoth old Nick,

And take 'um sayes Dick, And well come! quoth worshipfull D••. And God bless King Charles, quoth George, And save him, say's Simon and Sill, I, I, quoth old Cole, and each loyal Soul▪ And Amen, and Amen, cry's Will.

The Honest Mens Resolution.

But what, shall we doe with our Wives, That fi••k up and down the Town? And one is for Bowles, And t'other for Knowles, But all against Cox and Brown? They cheat us all with their looks, And snivell and snot by roate! And nothing but sqeak, For Venner and Feake, And for a Lac'd Morning-Coat, For such a Bell-dam, Sayes Sylas and Sam, Let's have an Italian Lock! No, no! It's far better, Quoth Robin and Peter, To take 'um all down ith' Dock! But that will not do, sayes Nump, Then nothing, sayes Roger and Raph! Let's lay 'um, sayes Nat, and splay 'um, sayes Wat, And then we shall make 'um safe.

But, Faith, y'are all out oth' way! The Sisters have such a Trick! No Instrument will Seclude 'um from ill, But still against P—'s, they'l kick. What shall we do then? quoth Hall, Let's cope up their Lecherie! Sayes Rowland we may, Be Masters, that way. But will not last long, quoth * 1.28 The. What shall we do then, Quoth Cutbert and Ben. Let's do 'um like men, quoth Dan, Let's fill up their Chincks, Sayes Mystical Sphynx. Quoth Taffie, then I'm your man! And I am as cut, quoth Cad, And She••kin, Me ••at-a-whe. Ap Howel, It's true, and Morgan & Hug•• Y Cambrie, Dieu, Dal••h-a-whe.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 1.1

  H•• hath a great kindnesse for that Saint, not because of his Keys, (which he knew he should never make use of) but in reference to Pe∣terborough Minster, the stones of which built his new house
• * 1.2

  Some Authors hold that it was but three half pence, but Poetry will not admit broken number.
• * 1.3

  Courteous Reader, he is a Leather seller.
• * 1.4

  Not Bethlehem in Juda (for he is none of the Magi)
• (1) 1.5

  Cudgell'd by Mr. Armiger at Wells in Norfolk, Novemb. 4. 1654.
• (2) 1.6

  Ran away six miles at Crowland Siege, and ne're lockt be∣hind him.
• (1) 1.7

  He caused Parson Cooper to be ha••••'d by Judge Iermy, for fear he should beat him.
• (2) 1.8

  He corrupted twenty free Burgherr at Risen, to give their Votes for h••m in the last Election for Parliament.
• (1) 1.9

  He hired 100. men to come with him to LYN with swords and guns, for fear Mr. HOWARD, and his two men should beat him.
• (2) 1.10

  Mr. Howard gave him a box on the ear with the back of his hand, and he fell to the ground with fear.
• (3) 1.11

  Justice Cremar, Justice Peddar, and Justice Life.
• (4) 1.12

  He took the City of Norwich when the Gates were open, and no opposition.
• (5) 1.13

  Mrs. Foxe's back door.
• (1) 1.14

  The Bells were rung backward, which alarm'd the City, wh•• came in and had beat him, if he had not run away upon the noise of it.
• (2) 1.15

  Iermy's Chaplain that prayes, and swears, and fights, and lyes for him in ordinary.
• (1) 1.16

  Let us shew our selves true English men, is his usual saying
• (2) 1.17

  He that drank so much Asses milk, as, without the Parlia∣ment's mercy, he is like to be a Fool for ever.
• (3) 1.18

  Two Iustices in Norfolk.
• (4) 1.19

  Master Armiger hath the exemplification of a Verdict in a Box, wherein Iermy's Baude••y with Foxes wife is set forth.
• * 1.20

  Vivat.
• * 1.21

  Sedgewick
• ‖ 1.22

  Iohn a Nokes.
• † 1.23

  Iohn a Styles.
• * 1.24

  Repulsed by a Citizens wife.
• ‖ 1.25

  Jacks both.
• ‖ 1.26

  or, Sisters, Ʋtrum, horum, harum.
• * 1.27

  Brains
• * 1.28

  Theophilus.