their King For the Brewer had the world in a sling Which no body can deny He scorneth all Laws and Martial stops But whips an Army as round as tops And cuts off his foes as thick as hops Which no body can deny He dives for Riches down to the bottom And cryes my Masters when he had got um Let every tub stand upon his own bottom Which no body can deny In War-like acts he scorns to stoop For when his Army begins to droop He draws them up us round as a hoop Which no body can deny The Jewish Scots that scorns to eat The flesh of Swine and Brewers beat 'T was the sight of this hogs-head made 'um retreat Which no body can deny Poor Jockie and his basket hilt Was beaten and much blood was spilt And their bodies like barrels did run a tilt Which no body can deny Though Jemy gave the first assault The Brewer at last made them to halt And left them what the Cat left in the Mault Which no body can deny They cry'd that Antichrist came to settle Religion in a Cooler and a Kettle For his Nose and Copper were both of one mettle Which no body can deny Some Christian King began to quake And said with the Brewer no quarrels we 'll make We 'll let him alone as he Brews let him Bake Which no body can deny He hath a strong and very stout heart And thought to be made an Emperor for 't But the Devil put a spoke in his Cart Which no body can deny If any intended to do him disgrace His fury would take off his head in the place He alway did carry his Furnesse in his face Which no body can deny But yet by the way you must understand He kept his foes so under command That Pride could never get the upper hand Which no body can deny He was a stout Brewer of whom we may brag But now he is hurried away with a hag He brew'd in a bottle and bak'd in a bag Which no body can deny And now may all stout Souldiers say Farewell the glory of the day For the Brewer himself is turn'd to clay Which no body can deny Thus fell the brave Brewer the bold son of slaughter We need not to fear what shall follow after For he dealt all his life time in fire and water Which no body can deny And if his Successor had had but his might We had not been in a pittifull plight But he was found many grains too light Which no body can deny Let 's leave off singing and drink off our Bub Wee 'll call for a Reckoning and every man Club For I think I have told you a Tale of a Tub. Which no body can deny In imitation of Come my Daphne a Dialogue between Pluto and Oliver Pluto COme Imp Royal come away Into black night we will turn bright day Oliver 'T is Pluto calls what would my Syre Pluto Come follow to the Stygian fire Where Ireton doth wait To welcome thee in state Oliver Were I in bed with Lamberts wife I 'de quit those joyes for such a life Pluto My Princely Nol make hast For thee we keep a Fast Oliver In these dismal shades will I Unto thee unfold my Villany Pluto In my bosome I 'll thee lay For thy sake wee 'l all keep holyday Chorus Wee 'l rage and roar and fry in flames And Charles himself shall see How damn'dly we agree Yet scorn to change our Chains For his eternal diety A Quarrel betwixt Tower-hill and Tyburn I 'LE tell you a Story that never was told A tale that hath both head and heel And though by no Recorder inroll'd I know you will find it as true as steel When General Monck was come to the Town A little time after the Rump had the rout When Loyalty rose and Rebellion fell down They say that Tower-hill and Tyburne fell out Qâ—oth terrible Tyburne to lofty Tower-hill Thy longed-for daies are come at last And now thou wilt dayly thy belly fulfill With King-killers bloud whilst I must fast The High Court of Justice will come to the Bar There to be cooked and dressed for thee Whilst I that live out of Town so far Must only be fed by Fellony If Treason be counted the foulest fact And dying be a Traytor 's due Then why should you all the glory exact You know they are sitter for me than you To speak the plain truth I have groan'd for them long For when they had routed the Royal Root And done the Kingdom so much wrong I knew at the last they would come to 't When Titchburne sate upon the Benâ—h Twirling his Chain in high degree With a Beardless Chin like a withered Wench Thought I the Bar is fitter for thee But then with stately composed face Tower-hill to Tyburne made reply Do not complain in such a Case Thou shalt have thy share as well as I. There are a sort of Mongrils which My Lordly Scaffold will disgrace I know Hugh Peters his fingers itch To make a Pulpit of the place But tâ—ke him Tyburn he is thine own Divide his quarterâ— with thy â—â—ife Who did pollute with fâ—â—sh and â—e The quarters of the Butchers wife The next among these Petticoat-Peers Is Harry Martin take him thither But he hath been addle so many years That I fear he will hardly hang together There 's Hacker zealous Tom Harrison too That boldly defends the bloudy deed He practizeth what the Jesuites do To murder his King as a part of his Creed There 's single-eyed Hewson the Cobler of Fate Translated into Buff and Feather But bootless are all his seams of State When the soul is unript from the upper-leather Is this prophane mechanical Brood For me that have been dignfy'd With loyal Land and Straffords blood And holy Hewet who lately dy'd Do thou contrive with deadly Dun To send them to the River of Stix 'T is pitty since those Saints are gone That Martyrs and Murtherers bloud should mix Then do not fear me that I will Deprive thee of that fatal Day 'T is fit those that their King did kill Sould hang up in the Kings high-way My Priviledge though I know it is large Into thy hand I 'le freely give it For there is Cook that read the Kings Charge Is only fit for the Devils tribute Then taunting Tyburn in great scorn Did make Tower-hill this rude reply So much rank bloud my stomack will turn And thou shalt be sick as well as I. These Traytors made those Martyrs bleed Upon the Block that thou dost bear And there it is fit they should dye for the deed But Tower-hill cryed they shall not come there With that grim Tyburn began to fret And Tower-hill did look very grim And sure as a Club they both would have met But that the City did step between The Bloody Bed-roll or Treason displayed in its Colours Triumphing News for Cavaliers The Rump smells strong cast out by th' Peers OLd OLIVER's
Like a Scotch Mark where the more modest sense Checks the loud phrase and shrinks to 13. pence Like to an Ignis fatuus whose flame Though sometimes tripartite joynes in the same Like to nine Taylors who if rightly spell'd Into one man are Monosyllabel'd Short-handed zeal in one hath cramped many Like to the Decalogue in a single penny See see how close the curs hunt under sheet As if they spent in Quire and scann'd their feet One Cure and five Incumbents leap a truss The title sure must be litigious The Sadduces would raise a question Who must be Smec at th' Resurrection Who coop'd them up together were to blame Had they but wire-drawn spun out their name 'T would make another Prentices Petition Against the Bishops and their Superstition Robson and French that count from five to five As far as nature fingers did contrive She saw they would be sessors that 's the cause She cleft her hoof into so many claws May tire their Carret-bunch yet ne're agree To rate Smectymnuus for Pole-money Caligula whose pride was mankinds bail As who disdain'd to murther by retail Wishing the world had but one general neck His glutton blade might have found game in Smec No eccho can improve the Author more Whose lungs pay use on use to half a score No Felon is more letter'd though the brand Both superscribes his shoulder and his hand Some Welsh-man was his Godfather for he Wears in his name his Genealogy The Banes are ask'd would but the time give way Beewixt Smectymnuus and Et caetera The Guests invited by a friendly Summons Should be the Convocation and the Commons The Priest to tye the Foxes tayles together Mosely or Sancta Clara chuse you whether See what off-spring every one expects What strange pluralities of men and sects One sayes hee 'l get a Vestery another Is for a Synod But upon the Mother Faith cry St. George let them go to 't and stickle Whether a Conclave or a Conventicle Thus might Religions catterwaul and spight Which uses to divorce might once unite But their crosse Fortunes interdict their trade The Groom is Rampant but the Bride displaid My task is done all my Hee-Goats are milkt So many Cards i' th' stock and yet be bilkt I could by Letters now untwist the Rabble Whip Smec from Constable to Constable But there I leave you to another dressing Only kneel down and take your Fathers blessing May the Queen Mother justifie your fears And stretch her Patent to your leather ears A Lenten Letany Composed for a confiding Brother for the benefit and edification of the Faithfull Ones FRom Villany drest in the Doublet of Zeal From three Kingdomes bak'd in one Common weal From a gleek of Lord Keepers of one poor Seal Libera nos c. From a Chancery-writ and a whip and a bell From a Justice of Peace that never could spell From Collonel P. and the Vicar of Hell Libera nos c. From Neat's feet without socks and three-peny Pyes From a new sprung Light that will put out ones eyes From Goldsmiths-hall the Devil and Excise Libera nos c. From two hours talk without one word of sense From Liberty still in the future tense From a Parliament long-wasted Conscience Libera nos c. From a Coppid Crown-tenent prick'd up by a Brother From damnable Members and fits of the Mother From Ears like Oysters that grin at each other Libera nos c. From a Preacher in buff and a Quarter-staff-steeple From th' unlimited Soveraigne Power of the People From a Kingdom that crawles on its knees like a Creeple Libera nos c. From a vinegar Priest on a Crab-tree stock From a foddering of Prayer four hours by the Clock From a holy Sister with a pittifull Smock Libera nos c. From a hunger-starv'd Sequestrators maw From Revelations and Visions that never man saw From Religion without either Gospel or Law Libera nos c. From the Nick and Froth of a Peny Pot-house From the Fiddle and Crosse and a great Scotch Louse From Committees that chop up a Man like a Mouse Libera nos c. From broken shins and the blood of a Martyr From the Titles of Lords and Knights of the Garter From the teeth of mad-dogs and a Country mans quarter Libera nos c. From the Publique Faith and an Egg Butter From the Irish Purchasers and all their clutter From Omega's nose when he fettles to sputter Libera nos c From the zeal of Old Harry lock'd up with a Whore From waiting with Plaints at the Parliament dore From the death of a King without why or wherefore Libera nos c. From the French disease and the Puritan fry From such as nere swear but devoutly can lye From cutting of capers full three story high Libera nos c. From Painted glass and Idolatrous cringes From a Presbyter's Oath that turns upon hinges From Westminster Jews with Levitical fringes Libera nos c. From all that is said and a thousand times more From a Saint and his Charity to the Poor From the Plagues that are kept for a Rebel in store Libera nos c. The Second Part. THat if it please thee to assist Our Agitators and their List And Hemp them with a gentle twist Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to suppose Our actions are as good as those That gull the People through the Nose Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee here to enter And fix the rumbling of our center For we live all at peradventure Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to unite The flesh and bones unto the sprite Else Faith and literature good night Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee O that wee May each man know his Pedigree And save that plague of Heraldry Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee in each Shire Cities of refuge Lord to rear That failing Brethren may know where Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to abhor us Of any such dear favour for us That thus have wrought thy peoples sorrows Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to embrace Our dayes of thanks and fasting face For robbing of thy holy place Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to adjourn The day of judgement least we burn For lo it is not for our turn Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to admit A close Committee there to sit No Devil to a Humane wit Quaesumus te c. That it may please to dispence A little for convenience Or let us play upon the sense Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to embalm The Saints in Robin Wisdom's Psalm And make them musical and calm Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee since 't is doubt Satan cannot throw Satan out Unite us and the Highland rout Quaesumus te c AN
Court ' cause time is short Does rage like Devils from Hell Let 's mark the fate and course of State Who rises when t'other is sinking And beleive when this is past 'T will be our turn at last To bring the Good Old Cause by drinking First red nos'd Nol he swallowed all His colour shew'd he lov'd it But Dick his Son as he were none Gav 't off and hath reprov'd it But that his foes made bridge of 's nose And cry'd him down for a Protector Proving him to be a fool that would undertake to rule And not drink and fight like Hector The Grecian Lad he drank like mad Minding no work above it And Sans question kill'd Ephestion Because he 'd not approve it He got command where God had land And like a Maudlin Yonker When he tippled all and wept he laid him down to sleep Having no more Worlds to conquer Rump-Parliament would needs invent An Oath of Abjuration But Obedience and Allegiance are now come into fashion Then here 's a boul with a heart and soul To Charles and let all men say Amen to 't Though they brought the Father down From a triple Kingdom Crown Wee 'l drink the Son up agen to 't The Protecting Brewer A Brewer may be a Burgess grave And carry the matter so fine and so brave That he the better may play the Knave Which no body can deny A Brewer may be a Parliament-man For there the Knavery first began And brew most cunning Plots he can Which no body c. A Brewer may put on a Nabal face And march to the Wars with such a grace That he may get a Captains place Which no body c. A Brewer may speak so wonderous well That he may raise strange things to tell And so to be made a Collonel Which no body c. A Brewer may make his foes to flee And raise his Fortunes so that he Lieutenant-General may be Which no body c. A Brewer he may be all in all And raise his Powers both great and small That he may be a Lord General Which no body c. A Brewer may be like a Fox in a Cub And teach a Lecture out of a Tub And give the wicked world a rub Which no body c. A Brewer by 's Excize and Rate Will promise his Army he knows what And set it upon the Colledge-gate Which no body c. Methinks I hear one say to me Pray why may not a Brewer be Lord-Chancellor o' th' University Which no body c. A Brewer may be as bold as Hector When as he has drunk off his cup of Nectar And a Brewer may be a Lord Protector Which no body c. Now here remans the strangest thing How this Brewer about his Liquor did bring To be an Emperour or a King Which no body c. A Brewer may do what he will And rob the Church and State to sell His soul unto the devil of hell Which no body can deny The Power of the Sword LAY by your Pleading Law lyes a bleeding Burn all your Studies down and throw away your Reading Small power the Word has and can afford us Not half so many Priviledges as the Sword has It fosters your Masters it plasters Disasters And makes your Servants quickly greater than their Masters It venters it enters it circles it centers And makes a Prentice free in spight of his Indentures This takes off tall things and sets up small things This masters Money though Money masters all things 'T is not in season to talk of Reason Or call it Legal when the Sword will have it Treason It conquers the Crown too the Furres and the Gown too This set up a Presbyter and this pull'd him down too This subtil Deceiver turn'd Bonnet to Beaver Down drops a Bishop and up starts a Weaver This fits a Lay-man to preach and pray man 'T is this can make a Lord of him that was a Dray-man Forth from the dull pit of Follies full pit This brought an Hebrew Iron-monger to the Pulpit Such pittifull things be more happier than Kings be This got the Herauldry of Thimblebee and Slingsbee No Gospel can guide it no Law can decide it In Church or State untill the Sword hath sanctify'd it Down goes the Law-tricks for from that Matrix Sprung holy Hewson's power and tumbled down St. Patricks The Sword prevails so highly in Wales too Shinkin ap Powel cryes and swears Cuts-plutteranails too In Scotland this Waster did make such disaster They sent their Money back for which they sold their Master It batter'd so their Dunkirke and did so the Don firke That he is fled and swears the Devil is in Dunkirke He that can tower o'er him that is lower Would be but thought a Fool to put away his Power Take Books and rent 'um who would invent 'um When as the Sword replyes Negatur argumentum Your grand Colledge Butlers must stoop to your Sutlers There 's not a Library living like the Cutlers The bloud that is spilt Sir hath gain'd all the gilt Sir Thus have you seen me run the Sword up to the hilt Sir Cromwell's Coronation OLiver Oliver take up thy Crown For now thou hast made three Kingdoms thine own Call thee a Conclave of thy own creation To ride us to ruine who dare thee oppose Whilst we thy good people are at thy Devotion To fall down and worship thy terrible Nose To thee and thy Mermydons Oliver we Do tender our homage as fits thy degree We 'll pay the Excise and Taxes God blesse us With fear and contrition as penitents should Whilst you great Sir vouchsafe to oppresse us Not daring so much as in private to soold We bow down as cow'd down to thee and thy Sword For now thou hast made thy self Englands sole Lord By Mandate of Scripture and Heavenly warrant The Oath of Allegiance and Covenant too To Charles and his Kingdoms thou art Heir apparent And born to rule over the Turk and the Jew Then Oliver Oliver get up and ride Whilst Lords Knights and Gentry do run by thy side The Maulsters and Brewers account it their glory Great God of the Grain-tub's compared to thee All Rebells of old are lost in their story Till thou plod'st along to the Padington-tree The BREWER To the Tune of the Black-smith THere many a Clinching Verse is made In honour of the Black-smiths trade But more of the Brewer may be said Which no body can deny I need not much of this repeat The Black-smith cannot be compleat Unlesse the Brewer do give him a heat Which no body can deny When Smug unto the forge doth come Unlesse the Brewâ—r doth liquor him home He 'll never strike thy pot and my pot Tom. Which no body can deny Of all professions in the town The Brewers trade hath gain'd renown His liquor reacheth up to the Crown Which no body can deny Many new Lords from him there did spring Of all the trades he still was