And teach my tongue, that ever did confine
Its faculties in truth's seraphick line,
To track the treasons of thy foes and mine.

5

Nature and law, by thy divine decree, (The only root of righteous royaltie) With this dim diadem invelted me :

10

With it, the sacred scepter, purple robe,
The holy unction, and the royal globe:
Yet am i levell’d with the life of Job.

The fiercest furies, that do daily tread
Upon my grief, my grey discrowned head,
Are those that owe my bounty for their bread.

15

They raise a war, and christen it THE CAUSE,
While facrilegious hands have best applause,
Plunder and murder are the kingdom's laws ;

Tyranny bears the title of taxation,
Revenge and robbery are reformation,
Oppression gains the name of sequestration.

My loyal subjects, who in this bad season
Attend me (by the law of God and reason),
They dare impeach, and punish for high treason,

Next at the clergy do their furies frown,
Pious episcopacy must go down,
They will destroy the crosier and the crown.

25

Churchmen are chain'd, and schismaticks are freed,
Mechanicks preach, and holy fathers bleed,
The crown is crucified with the creed.

30

The church of England doth all factions foster,
The pulpit is usurpt by each impostor,
Extempore excludes the Paternoster,

The Presbyter, and Independent seed
Springs with broad blades. To make religion bleed 35
Herod and Pontius Pilate are agreed.

The corner stone's misplac'd by every pavier :
With such a bloody method and behaviour
Their ancestors did crucifie our Saviour.

My royal confort, from whose fruitful womb
So many princes legally have come,
Is forc'd in pilgrimage to seek a tomb,

Great Britain's heir is forced into France,
Whilft on his father's head his foes advance :
Poor shild! he weeps out his inheritanon

With

With my own power my majesty they wound,
In the king's name the king himself's uncrown'd:
So doth the dust destroy the diamond.

With propositions daily they enchant
My people's ears, such as do reason daunt,
And the Almighty will not let me grant.

50

They promise to erect my royal item,
To make me great, t'advance my diadem,
If I will first fall down, and worship them!

55

But for refusal they devour my thrones,
Distress my children, and destroy my bones ;
I fear they'll force me to make bread of stones.

My life they prize at such a slender rate,
That in my absence they draw bills of hate,
To prove the king a traytor to the state.

60

Felons obtain more privilege than I,
They are allow'd to answer ere they die ;
'Tis death for me to ask the reason, why.

But, sacred Saviour, with thy words I woo
Thee to forgive, and not be bitter to
Such, as thou know'ít do not know what they do.

65

For since they from their lord are fo disjointed,
As to contemn those edicts he appointed,
How can they prize the power of his anointed?

Augment my patience, nullifie my hate,
Preserve my iflue, and inspire my mate,
Yet, though we perish, BLESS THIS CHURCH and STATS.

XIV. THE SALE OF REBELLIOUS HOUSHOLD-STUFF.

This sarcastic exultation of triumphant loyalty, is printed from an old black-letter copy in the Pepys collection, corrected by two others, one of which is preserved in “ A choice collection of 120 loyal songs, &c.” 1684, 12mo.—To the tune of Old Simon the king.

R

Ebellion hath broken up house,

And hath left ine old lumber to sell;
Come hither, and take your choice,

I'll promise to use you well :
Will you buy the old speaker's chair?

Which was warm and easie to fit in,
And oft hath been clean'd I declare,
When as it was fouler than fitting.

Says old Simon the king, &c.

10

Will you buy any bacon-flitches,

The fatteit, that ever were spent ? They're the Gides of the old committees,

Fed up in the long parliament. Here's a pair of bellows, and tongs, And for a small matter I'll fell

ye They are made of the presbyters lungs, To blow up the coals of rebellion,

Says old Simon, &c.

'um ;

I had thought to have given them once

To some black-smith for his forge ; But now I have considered on't,

They are consecrate to the church : So I'll give them unto fome quire,

They will make the big organs roar, And the little pipes to squeeke higher, Than ever they could before.

Says old Simon, &c.

Here's a couple of stools for sale,

One's square, and t'other is round; Betwixt them both the tail

30 Of the Rump fell down to the ground. Will you buy the states council-table,

Which was made of the good wain Scot?
The frame was a tottering Babel
To uphold the Independent plot,

35
Says old Simon, &c.
24

Here's