Were he the king of kings, his crown Like Turks, their Heav'n lies all in sense, No hell they fear, when parted hence; 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, Thus cov'nanting and levelling Three kingdoms have o'erthrown, And made all fellows, with their king, A foot-ball of the crown. Tell me, thou presbyterian ass, Thy peevish plea, No bishops, was 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, For shame, ye bastard-saints, give o'er, The state's grown fat with orphans tears, Return, hard hearts, the treaty ends, Nor Gods above, nor Gods below, Treason to wear a crown. Nor king, nor parliament, will please, Nay, they'll remonstrate against peace, Pluto, beware, (to thee they come, Then John-a-Leyden, Nell, and all (Brave rebel saints triumphant) shall Begin their second reign. Brave reformation! now I see, To find the saints chearful and free, And nurse the babe of grace. Let yellow boys ne'er tempt their sight Of valour with the sources, For the tame slaves will never fight, Till they have empty purses. 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, And well may be content, When thirty fools, and twenty knaves, They banish all men in their wits, Of our long-sword state-menders. Fine Journey Junto! pretty knack! 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; But the choice dainties of a crown, Princes in sacrifice. No powers are safe, treason's a tilt, Boast, when the royal blood is spilt, year Now for a no-king, or a new ; For th' old, they say, shall pack; The new may serve a year to view Like an old almanack. 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 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 speedil by serious repentance, and that greatest and hardest work of it, restitution. There was to be upon this subject the burden of Eng land, 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 seemed 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 honeft 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 corrup tion 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 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 cades. I found there had been much more cost bestowed than either the dead man, or indeed death itself could deserve. There was a mighty train of black assistants, among which too divers princes in the persons of their ambassadors, being infinitely afflicted for the loss of their brother, were pleased to attend; the herse was magnificent, the idol crowned, and, not to mention all other ceremonies which are practised at royal interments, and therefore by no means could be omitted here, the vast multitude of spectators made up, as it uses to do, no small part of the spectacle itself. But yet, I know not how, the whole was so managed, that, methought, it somewhat represented the life of him for whom it was made; much noise, much tumult, much expence, much magnificence, much vain-glory; briefly, a great show, and yet, after all this, but an ill sight. At last, for it seemed long to me, and, like his short reign too, very tedious, the whole scene passed by, and I retired back to my chamber, weary, and, I think, more melancholy than any of the mourners. Where I began to reflect upon the whole life of this prodigious man; and sometimes I was filled with horror and detestation of his actions, and sometimes I inclined a little to reverence and admiration of his courage, conduct, and success; till, by these different motions and agitations of mind, rocked, as it were asleep, I fell at last into this vision, or, if you please to call it but a dream, I shall not take it ill, because the father of poets tells us, even dreams too are from God. But sure it was no dream; for I was suddenly transported afar off, whether in the body, or out of the body, like St. Paul, I know not, and found myself upon the top of that famous hill in the Island Mona, which has the prospect of three great, and, notlong-since, most happy kingdoms: As soon as ever I looked upon them, the not-long-since struck upon my memory, and called forth the sad representation of all the sins, and all the miseries that had overwhelmed them these twenty years. And I wept bitterly for two or three hours; and, when my present stock of moisture was all wasted, I fell a sighing for an hour more; and as soon as I recovered, from my passion, the use of speech and reason, I broke forth, as I remember, looking upon England, inte this complaint: I. Ah, happy isle, how art thou chang'd and curst, When peace, which had forsook the world around, And a secure retirement chose Wherein to build her Halcyon nest; No wind durst stir abroad the air to discompose. II. When all the riches of the globe beside Flow'd in to thee with every tide; |