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 propofitions daily they enchant

My people's ears, fuch as do reason daunt,
And the Almighty will not let me grant.

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

But for refufal they devour my thrones,

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Distress my children, and destroy my bones;

I fear they'll force me to make bread of stones.

My life they prize at fuch a flender rate,

That in my abfence they draw bills of hate,

To prove the king a traytor to the state.

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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, facred Saviour, with thy words I woo

Thee to forgive, and not be bitter to

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Such, as thou know'ft do not know what they do.

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

Augment my patience, nullifie my hate,

Preferve my iffue, and in pire my mate,

Yet, though we perish, BLESS THIS CHURCH and STATS,

XIV.

THE SALE OF REBELLIOUS HOUSHOLD-STUFF.

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

Rebellion hath broken up house,

And hath left me old lumber to fell;
Come hither, and take your choice,

I'll promife to use you well:
Will you buy the old fpeaker's chair?

Which was warm and eafie to fit in,
And oft hath been clean'd I declare,
When as it was fouler than fitting.
Says old Simon the king, &c.

5

Will you buy any bacon-flitches,
The fattet, that ever were spent?
They're the fides 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 prefbyters lungs,
To blow up the coals of rebellion.
Says old Simon, &c.

'um;

I had thought to have given them once
To fome black-fmith for his forge;
But now I have confidered on't,

They are confecrate to the church:
So I'll give them unto fome quire,
They will make the big organs roar,
And the little pipes to fqueeke higher,
Than ever they could before.
Says old Simon, &c.

Here's a couple of ftools for fale,

One's fquare, and t'other is round;

Here's the beefom of Reformation,

Which should have made clean the floor,
But it swept the wealth out of the nation,

And left us dirt good store.

Will you buy the states spinning-wheel,
Which spun for the ropers trade ?

But better it had stood still,

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For now it has fpun a fair thread.

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Says old Simon, &c.

Here's a glyfter-pipe well try'd,

Which was made of a butcher's stump *,
And has been fafely apply'd,

To cure the colds of the rump.

Here's a lump of Pilgrims-Salve,
Which once was a justice of peace,

Who Noll and the Devil did ferve;

But now it is come to this.

Says old Simon, &c.

Here's a roll of the states tobacco,
If any good fellow will take it;

No Virginia had e'er fuch a fmack-o,

And I'll tell you how they did make it :

Alluding probably to Major-General Harrifon a butcher's fox, zuho affifted Cromwell in turning out the long parliament, April 20, 1653.

'Tis th' Engagement, and Covenant cookt
Up with the Abjuration oath;
And many of them, that have took't,
Complain it was foul in the mouth.
Says old Simon, &c.

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Yet the ashes may happily ferve

To cure the scab of the nation,
Whene'er 't has an itch to swerve

To Rebellion by innovation.
A Lanthorn here is to be bought,
The like was scarce ever gotten,
For many plots it has found out
Before they ever were thought on.
Says old Simon, &c.

Will you buy the RUMP's great faddle,

With which it jocky'd the nation ? And here is the bitt, and the bridle,

And curb of Diffimulation:

And here's the trunk-hofe of the RUMP,

And their fair diffembling cloak,

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And a Prefbyterian jump,

With an Independent smock.

Says old Simon, &c.

Will you buy a Confcience oft turn'd,
Which serv'd the high-court of justice,
And stretch'd until England it mourn'd:

But Hell will buy that if the worst is.

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