IS this the upshot then? We that have spent
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Our best of Fortunes for a PARLIAMENT?
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We that have sweat in bloud, march't o're the Land,
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And where our feet did tread, our Swords command?
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We that like burning Comets did appeare,
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Striking astonishment with pallid feare,
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Upon the daring aspect of our Foes,
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Forcing even Death, under our dreadfull blowes
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To flagg his fatall Standard? We that have
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Been (as of Banquets) greedy of a grave?
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When through the rivlets of our purple gore
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Flow'd streames of Victory unto the doore
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Of our high palmed STATE, made GODS: no lesse;
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And only happy through our wretchednesse.
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When in our calmed postures we draw neare
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Creeping addresses to that Lofty SPHEAR
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In naked Bodies, broken Leggs, and Armes,
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In carved Limbs, which were erewhile as Charmes
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To quiet Death, and make the Furies husht,
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That we should suffer? that we should be crusht
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With those iron hands (though guilded with our bloud,
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Not seeking others, but their owne selfe-good)
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We have upheld? when we make humble plea
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With empty entrailes, for our deare earn'd pay,
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(Whilest your enlarded guts, and brawny sides
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Swine it with Epicurus, stretch your hydes
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With glorry morsells) are we kickt away,
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As if each Wight had turn'd Apostata?
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Is this true Vallors pay? coyn'd out of ayre
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And envy? Tyranny? that doth out-dare
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The very front of Hell. What, Souldiers? and thus slighted?
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The best of actions are the worst requited.
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'Tis thought, and fear'd, your eyes that pitty want,
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Ere long will turne the world all Adamant:
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And every object by reflection,
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Be turned into, what you are, a Stone;
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Should but your curious, wanton pallats share
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As formerly our Fortunes, now our fare,
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(Who once lay lugging at that Ladyes Papp
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As full of plenty then, as now, mishap)
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A two daies sad experience, would condemne
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Your great ingratitude; make you contemne
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Your cruelties; and bring home to your Gate
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As much of love, as hitherto of hate.
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