IRELANDS Complaint of the Armies hypocrisie. With his Excellencies entring unconquerd LONDON:
In a Discourse between two friends Donatus and Perigrin. With the slighting of the Communicable Line.
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Donat. WEll met friend Perigrin, from whence camst thou,
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Perig. From wretched Ireland, I landed now;
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Donat. How stands the state of that distressed Nation,
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Perig. Tis almost lost, a powerfull inundation
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Hath overwhelmd it in a Sea of wo?
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And I am hither come to let you know
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How much they thank you for each fast and prayer
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In their behalf, if they could live by aire
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Without the help of money or of men,
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They would requite your breath with breath agen.
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Donat. We have been ever ready to relieve them
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In words not having other aid to give them.
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Perig. Tis true indeed, but give me leave to tell ye
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Words are to weak to fill an empty belly
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Donat. We ment our Army should their losse restore
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Perig. When the Steeds stoln, youl shut the stable door.
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Donat. The trumpet sounds, stand by my friend heres one,
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Whose conquest must through London streets be known.
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Perig. Whos this that comes in triumph, is the war
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Donat. Now finisht. Tis that famous Conquerour
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Sir Thomas Fairfax, Whose victorious hand
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Makes England stoop to his supream command,
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Perig. Is he a King or Pope, or can there be
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Another that dares own supremacy,
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Donat. He is neither King nor Pope, yet he is one
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That alters government, puls Bishops down,
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And Elders to, the hated Presbyters,
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Seem now as odious as the Bishops were.
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He sets up a new light which doth arise
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Beyond the apprehension of weak eyes
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For these are a peculiar people grown,
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A reall Priesthood, these are they alone
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Which are of all believers, truly sainted
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And every preaching souldier is acquainted
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With Jesus Christ, who offers grace to all
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Yet none may come unlesse the Father call,
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Who fils them with the Spirit in such measure
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That they may fall, and rise at their own pleasure.
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Repentance is a superstitious thing
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And tis as frivolous to have a King,
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One musters legions of foule crimes within
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And makes discovery of each secret sin:
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The other doth not bear the sword in vain
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Whereby he should his Regall power maintain,
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It was not given him to be a scourge
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To good men, but the wicked land to purge
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From cruell humours, which they understand
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Who wrested it by force out of his hand,
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Not knowing who resisteth power shall
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Procure themselves damnation sad withall,
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The Kings word is with power, then who may
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Tax him with what he please to do or say:
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Suppose the King were wicked is it fit
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To tell him so, Gods Word doth not permit
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Such insolence, but doth enforce us rather
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To yield obedience to our Kingly Father
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But now that holy Writ is of no force,
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Our government is changd from bad to worse.
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Perig. Pray what became of that strict Covenant,
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Betwixt the Brethren and your Parliament.
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Donat. (Alasse) they made so many Oaths before,
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And broke them all, tis but one trespasse more,
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Theyll add yet to the former, for where sin
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Aboundeth most, there grace must needs begin,
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Perig. But do your Londoners not blush to see
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A plain discovery of their perjury.
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How shall a stranger trust their word or oath
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When for advantage they will forfet both?
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Donat. Know they have trusted in so many gods,
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Which in the end will prove revengfull rods
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For whosoever doth too much rely
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One any humane help, doth deifie
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The means, wherein they trust to finde redresse,
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Seeth none but God can free us in distresse:
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Poor England was opprest, and therefore went
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To seek deliverance in a Parliament
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The which pretended a true Reformation;
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Which was begun with a deep Protestation:
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But Oaths are words, and words are all but winde,
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Soon after they themselves in Covnant bind,
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To aid the Parliament against their King;
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And to that end they Plate and Money bring
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Wherewith great Forts and Bulworks were erected
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The whilst poore Ireland was quite neglected,
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The tithe of what they one their Rampiers spend
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Might free some thousand wretched souls, and end
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Their cruell sufferings, but tis too late,
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Pray God their fall prove not proud Englands fate.
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Perig. But when this conquering Army had subdude,
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The King and that malignant multitude,
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They might have gone and set that Nation free,
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And there be crownd with glorious victory.
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Donat. Why, these are they, which are our faiths directors,
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To seek out Heaven, these are our Kings protectors.
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Whose meaning is to fix him on his Throne,
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In time, but first they will be paid their own
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Areares, nor do they purpose to disband
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Whilst all the Law remayneth in their hand,
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The States are as unwilling to restore
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The power they have usurpd six years or more,
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Besides some inward guilt doth whisper this
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And tels them they have done some things amisse,
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And if they should be lesser, then they are
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There is a retribution day I feare,
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Wherein they shall be summond to make good
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By satisfaction those sad streams of bloud
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The which by their commission was exhausted,
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And those huge sums of money vainly wasted,
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The Londoners have now the only cause,
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(Who must be subject to new Lords, new Laws)
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To fetch their King, but they were over-ruled,
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And now begin to fear they have been fooled
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Betwixt Sir Thomas, and the Parliament;
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Nor do they now their doings well resent.
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The Forts and Guards are in the Amies power,
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And so is the Militia and the Tower:
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And yet the King remayns no better still
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Then a poor prisner to the Armies will.
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And thus we see no comfort can be given
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But what proceeds from the great King of Heaven,
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Who doth mans extremity fore-see,
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By which he works his opportunity:
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And will I hope, when things are at the worst,
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Restore them better then they were at first.
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Nulla dies sine linea.
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Or the
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Slighting of the Works.
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ANd must the hedge be pulled down?
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Of this blest Reformation?
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And may the Maids to Islington,
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Passe free without invasion?
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Now (Noddles) to your Cels again
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Breeds vermin to be idle:
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Black Tom will teach you another strain,
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Heel make yon champe the bridle.
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And hey let us sing, and the bels merry ring
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The King of the Line is abolisht
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Edwards is sped, the Birds they are fled
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The Cage must be demolisht.
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Home Sutlers to your holes again
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Pack to your nasty allies:
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Your Summer-houses long enough
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dYouve had, go try your talleys.
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The Excize-man frighted quite away,
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Butchers you need not prize them;
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You need not lift sheep ore the Works,
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For fear they should Excize them.
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And hey?
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Manwring is fast enough in hold,
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A sad and true presagement
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That against the old decrepit Line
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There was some strong ingagement.
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You Citizens you need not feare
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While you are in your quarter:
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Your Journeymen should ware for ware
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With your Madonnas barter.
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And hey let us sing, and the Bels merry ring,
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The King of the Line is abolisht:
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Edward is sped, the Birds they are fled,
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The Cage must be demolisht.
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