O happy treason! see how wealth
Is made their heaven! they swell
With pride; and live by blood and stealth,
As if there were no hell!

No Sadducees but must confess,
Those monsters, which are told,
In story, are risen now no less
Prodigious, than of old.

Both Cain and Judas back are come,
In wizards most divine;
God bless us from a pulpit-drum,
And a preaching Catiline.

They feed upon a kingdom's curse,
And prey upon a king!

The dev❜l provide a second course,
And then a voider bring.

Now, Charles, thy conquest is, compleat,
And all the world shall see,

That God, which guides the royal, Scot,
Will thy avenger be.

O House of Commons, House of Lords,
Amend before, September:

For 'tis decreed, your soldiers swords,
Shall then you all dismember.

But like fair chapmen, 'twas well done,
To give you time and day

To cast accompts; for, one by one,
They will you soundly pay..

The kingdom, all in pieces torn!
Your time is fairly spent ;
To make yourselves a very scorn,
Your king but Jack-a-Lent.

Now, now, we see 'twas for the crown
The houses both did fight:

For, since the cavaliers are down,
They put the king to flight.

The adjutators, stern and proud,
Said, he should have no quarter,
Because he is a king; and vow'd

To make the saint a martyr.*,

* See the Dissenting Ministers vindication of themselves from the Borrid and detestable mur-der of king Charles the First, in Vol. VI. p. 129.

Their officers cry'd, Hall, O king;
The rest made mocks and scorns;
The houses vinegar did bring,

And all did plat the thorns.

Thus crucify'd, great Charles did live
As dead, is gone away:

For resurrection, God will give

A new cor'nation-day.

Rouse up! king Charles hath miss'd the snare
Laid on his royal feet;
Let th' adjutators now take care

Each for his winding-sheet.

The army rendezvoused are,

And do they know not what;
The Scots and they are like to jár,
Let us thank God for that.

The houses know not what to think ;
The cits horn-madded be:

They must be whipt, until they stink,
A joyful sight to see!

Thus, Cavaliers, cast up your caps,
And tell the rebels plain,

That Charles, in spight of all their traps,

Shall shortly rule again.

For liberty, and privilege,
Religion, and the king,

We fought; but O! the golden wedge!

That is the only thing.

There lies the cream of all the cause;

Religion is but whig;

Pure privilege eats up the laws,

And cries, For kings a fig.

The houses may a Christmas keep,
The countrymen a Lent;
The citizens (like silly sheep)
Must fast, and be content.

Then where is Liberty (I pray)
With Justice, Truth, and Right?
Sure they and Conscience fled away
With Charles, to th' Isle of Wight.

Gape, gape for peace, poor countrymen;
The members mean to treat:
And we shall see fair play agen,
When they no more can cheat.

The king shall come to Westminster,
It be to his grave;
may

Or, of a glorious prince, must there
Be made a royal slave.

But 'twere more wise to let him reign
Out of his people's sight,

For fear he should bring peace again,
And put them in a fright.

Sure Martin lay in of a clap,
And Say himself did dote;
The Devil too wore a sick cap,

When th' houses past this vote.

Come, let us live, and laugh away
The follies of this age;

Treason breeds care; we'll sing and play
Like birds within a cage.

Fetters are th' only favours now
The houses give (we see:)

And, since the king them wears, I vow, 'Twere baseness to be free.

Then let us all our sorrows drown
In sack and merry glee:
Ye citizens of London town,
What jolly slaves are we!

For common-prayer, ye have excise,
Free-quarter too is coming
To pay you for your mutinies,
Feasts, covenants, and drumming.

No Puritan, no Popish priest,

Nor Protestant now shall be ; Nor Law, but to live as we list, 'Tis heaven thus to be free.

Could Babylon's great king now sit
In council with our nation,
He were the only man to fit
Us with a reformation.

The glorious golden idol then

Might shine in each dominion; Both factions and their brethren Would soon be one opinion.

Away, thou Pagan cavalier,

This God must not be thine;
But, for the Saints at Westminster,
Whose souls are more divine.

Live, drink, and laugh, our worthies may,
And kindly take their fills;

The subjects must their reckonings pay,
The king must pass their bills.

No princes now, but they; the crown
Is vanish'd with our quiet;

Nor will they let us use our own
Devotions and diet.

All plums the prophets sons defy,
And spice-broths are too hot;
Treason's in a December-pye,
And death within the pot.

Christmas, farewel; thy day (I fear)
And merry days are done:
So they may keep feasts all the year,
Our Saviour shall have none.

O happy nation heretofore,

When seas our walls have been;
Unhappy now we see no shore,
But are all sea within.

Factions, like billows, rage and toss,
And death mounts ev'ry wave;
Yet in this storm we are so cross,
We will no pilot have.

Just such a tempest seiz'd upon

Bless'd Paul, the scripture says,
When he had seen no sun nor moon,
Nor stars, for many days.

Our sun and moon no beams create,
Our stars dispers'd we see:
Such as was his, will be our fate,
We must all shipwreck'd be.

A glorious prince this parliament,
The king should be, did swear;
But now we understand they meant
In heaven, and not here.

Let them invade the throne, and part
His crown, and vote his fate;
Yet know, in each true noble heart,
He keeps his chair of state.

Princes may be, like other men,
Imprison'd, and kept under
A while, as fire in clouds, but then
At length appear in thunder.

And, as in hidden caves the wind
Sad tremblings doth create,
So monarchs, by their own confin'd,
Cause earthquakes in the state.

Farewel the glory of our land;
For, now, the free-born blades
Our lives and our estates command,
And ride us all like jades.
Faith and religion bleeding lie,
And liberty grows faint;
No gospel, but pure treachery
And treason make the saint.

Oh! 'tis a heayonly cause (I trow)
Which first baptiz'd the Round-head
In noble Strafford's blood! but now
Must on the king's be founded.

Yet know, that kings are gods on earth;
And those, that pull them down,
Shall find it is no less than death

To tamper with a Crown..

'Tis true, as Harry Martin said,
The Scots away must pack;
The cov'nant shall aside be laid,
Like an old almanack.

Come then, and buy my new, true, new,

New almanack most true,

Such accidents of state to shew,

The like no age e'er knew.

Since that we lost our king and laws,
Since jealousies and fears,

Since peace, pure truth, and this foul cause,
It is full seven years.

Poor Charles pursu'd in forty-one,
Unking'd in forty-seven;

The eighth will place him on his throne,
In earth, or else in heaven.

Three kingdoms brought to a fine pass,

Whilst that our Saviours rule,

The country is become an ass,
The city but a mule.

Each university now pines,

The church may hang and rot;

They banish all our true divines,

The lawyers too must trot.