Militia too, they needs must gain, Thus Royal Charles lets to lease, Give me the dragon's gall for ink, To blast the Scot, and make him stink, See now the reformation-wirk,' Let them with Egypt's plagues be crost, And, since I have Job's patience lost, At home and hell may they e'er dwell; Let me be Turk, or any thing, But a Scotch calvinist; First he damn'd bishops; next his king; Gode faith, sir, they the pulpit bang. But let their gospel down; For the old saviour needs must gang, The saints, whom once their mouths did curse, Which proves their zeal a stalking-horse For knavish-godly ends. Then rail no more at antichrist, But learn ye to be c.vil; And, since ye have king Cromwell kiss'd, Since they have damn'd all saints of old, Like Jews, they worship Gods of gold, Were he the king of kings, his crown Like Turks, their Heav'n lies all in sense, All this, and more, by Jove, is true, No lord, no knight, no gentleman, Brave days, when Adam was a king Princes with ploughmen rank shall pass; Must spin, or else be turn'd to grass, Now all things are in common. Thus cov'nanting and levelling Three kingdoms have o'erthrown, Tell me, thou presbyterian ass, The first ground of the war. Next, to thy shame, thou didst combine With the sectarian routs ; Our Charles should be no king of thine, Or but a king of clouts. Both king and bishops thus exil'd, The saints, not yet content, Now with fresh flames of zeal grow wild, And cry, No parliament. Well may we then this maxim prove, Treason no end can know, But levels at the Gods above, As well as those below. Hark, how for peace the kingdom groans, Yield then, or else the Will out against you cry. For shame, ye bastard-saints, give o'er, The state's grown fat with orphans tears, Return, hard hearts, the treaty ends, Nor king, nor parliament, will please, Nay, they'll remonstrate against peace, Pluto, beware, (to thee they come, When here their work is done :) Then John-a-Leyden, Nell, and all (Brave rebel saints triumphant) shall Begin their second reign. Brave reformation! now I see, London's a blessed place, To find the saints chearful and free, Let yellow boys ne'er tempt their sight Of valour with the sources, For the tame slaves will never fight, Come then, ye lousy, wanton wags Of sainted chivalry, And free their poor condemned bags That groan for liberty. March on, boon blades, here's store of cash, Their king they will not pity: Then spur them on, and soundly lash These dull-men of the city. Dull cuckolds! we are dainty slaves, When thirty fools, and twenty knaves, They banish all men in their wits, Of our long-sword state-menders. Fine Journey Junto! pretty knack! Shut shop; for, now the godly pack Now, when the king of kings was born, They strive to crucify in scorn His viceroy, and their king. Since th' ancient feast they have put down, No new one will suffice e; But the choice dainties of a crown, Princes in sacrifice. No powers are safe, treason's a tilt, And the mad sainted-elves Boast, when the royal blood is spilt, Now for a no-king, or a new ; For th' old, they say, shall pack; The new may serve a year to view New houses, new; for th' old ones dote, The saints do vote, and act by rote, And are a nine-days wonder. Then let us chear, this merry new-year; For CHARLES shall wear the crown: 'Tis a damn'd cause, that damns the laws, And turns all upside down. A VISION, CONCERNING HIS LATE PRETENDED HIGHNESS Containing a Discourse in Vindication of him, by a pretended Angel, and the BY THE AUTHOR, ABRAHAM COWLEY. Sua cuique Deus fit dira Libido. VIRGIL. London: Printed for Henry Herringman, at the Anchor in the Lower-walk in the New-exchange, 1661. Twelves, containing ninety Pages. ADVERTISEMENT. THIS discourse was written in the time of the late protector, Richard the Little; and was but the first book of three, that were designed by the author. The second was to be a discourse with the guardian angel of England, concerning all the late confusions and misfortunes of it. The third, to denounce heavy judgments against the three kingdoms, and several places and parties in them, unless they prevented them speedily by serious repentance, and that greatest and hardest work of it, restitution. There was to be upon this subject the burden of England, the burden of Scotland, the burden of Ireland, the burden of London, the burden of the army, the burden of the divines, the burden of the lawyers, and many others, after the manner of prophetical threatenings in the Old Testament: But, by the extraordinary mercy of God (for which we had no pretence of merit, nor the least glimpse of hope) in the sudden restoration of reason, and right, and happiness to us, it became not only unnecessary, but unseasonable and impertinent to prosecute the work. However, it feemed not so to the author to publish this first part, because, though no man can justify or approve the actions of Cromwell, without having all the seeds and principles of wickedness in his heart, yet many there are, even honest and and well-meaning people, who, without wading into any depth of confideration in the matter, and purely deceived by splendid words, and the outward appearances of vanity, are apt to admire him as a great and eminent person; which is a fallacy, that extraordinary, and, especially, successful villainies impose upon the world. It is the corruption and depravation of human nature, that is the root of this opinion, though it lie sometimes so deep under ground, that we ourselves are not able to perceive it; and, when we account any man great, or brave, or wise, or of good parts, who advances himself and his family, by any other ways, but those of virtue, we are certainly biassed to that judgment by a secret impulse, or, at least, inclination of the viciousness of our own spirit. It is so necessary for the good and peace of mankind, that this error (which grows almost every where, and is spontaneously generated by the rankness of the soil, should be weeded out, and for ever extirpated, that the author was content not to fuppress this discourse, because it may contribute somewhat to that end, though it be but a small piece of that which was his original design. IT T was the funeral-day of the late man who made himself to be called protector, and though I bore but little affection, either to the memory of him, or to the trouble and folly of all publick pageantry; yet I was forced, by the importunity of my company, to go along with them, and be a spectator of that solemnity, the expectation of which had been so great, that it was said to have brought some very curious persons, and no doubt singular virtuoso's, as far as from the Mount in Cornwall, and from the Or |