THE
Lord RUSSELS
Last Farewel to the World.
A SONG.
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FArewel, farewel to Mortal Powers,
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and fond Ambitious Fools;
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Now guiltless Blood requireth ours,
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from Providence that Rules.
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Farewel to Monmouth, Horned Grey,
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who are from Justice fled;
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And left me to this fatal Day,
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to loose my Plotting Head.
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II.
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Of all the Lords of our Caballs,
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I am the first that dyes
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Byth' hand of Justice, which foretells
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a Counter-Sacrifice:
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That Blazing-Star at Staffords Death,
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foretold a fatal Change;
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Now I declare, with my last breath,
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it is but just Revenge.
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III.
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Farewel to our late Parliaments,
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which made Three Kingdoms shake;
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Our Lawless Votes (my Soul torments)
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was for Rebellions sake:
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Th'Exclusive Bill I did promote
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with vigour, spleen, and power;
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Thereby to cut a Monarchs Throat,
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that caus'd this Bleeding Hour.
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IV.
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The best of Kings I sought to Kill,
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and draw'd in Thousands more;
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Who neither wanted Wealth nor Will,
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and Traytors long before:
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Besides the Peasants and the poor,
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for Insurrection bent;
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To lay the Kingdom all in gore,
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to please a Parliament.
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V.
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We neither feared Law nor Right,
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Perogative nor Fate;
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Impeached Queen and Duke for spight,
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to make the King afraid:
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We thought he durst not call to 'count
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our great Conspiring Heads;
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But now, like me, they all must mount,
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and fall into the Shades.
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VI.
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If we had Hang'd Tonny and Tom,
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when first the Plot begun;
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Then I to this had never come,
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nor James from Justice run:
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Denying of the Plot's in vain,
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since Essex cut's own Throat:
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Both Rouse and Walcot owns the same,
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and all the rest must do't.
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VII.
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For my Confession I commit
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toth' Groaning-Boards Divine;
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'Tis his desire to Word it fit,
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I hope for no design:
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If Whiggish Cant, he puts upon't,
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with 'quivocating Shamms;
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The score him up on our account,
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his Lybell to the Flames.
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