The Braggadocia Souldier: and the Civill Citizen.
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SEe how the Sectists bustle now,
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The Independants sturre.
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London is tam'd say they; as once
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Prince Rupert with his Curre.
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See how they prick their eares; and cry,
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Wee'l knock down all our foes,
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But spare the Divell pray; for hee
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Doe's not your side oppose.
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Brave Sparkes indeed, brave cocks o'th game,
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Gramercy Gun and Sword,
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They throw down all, and yet pretend,
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To advance the purer word.
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On Sectists, on, and do your best,
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To vindicate the Divell,
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Away with Reformation now,
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And call her dirty snivell.
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Up Prince of darknesse; come and raigne,
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Thy Loyall Subjects wayt,
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Then call them Satan round about,
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And sit again in State.
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Brave sparkes indeed, etc.
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Come hither Pope, we give thee leave,
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Thou hast no cause to feare;
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Jingle thy Keyes in England now,
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The Divell raigneth here.
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Religion's to the block condemn'd,
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But none comes to relieve it;
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Whilst hell unloads its gorge, and wee
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Stand ready to receive it.
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Brave sparkes indeed, etc.
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The Sectists now are jolly men,
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They'ave brought about their Plot;
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They say they will confute us now,
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With powder and with shot.
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But stay, their Cannons may bee crack'd,
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Their shot cashier'd; and then,
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Their Argument I feare will faile,
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And lye i'th dust agen.
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Brave sparkes indeed, etc.
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The Pope and Divell have engag'd,
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The Independant too;
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For what I know not; 't may bee this,
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Our Kingdome to undoe.
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Heav'ns keep our Sov'raigne King Charles,
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From being rul'd by them,
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Mee thinks the Helmet is too neere
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The Princely Diadem.
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Brave sparkes indeed when they may thus,
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With Canon and with Sword,
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Un-King our State, un-Church us too,
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And yet advance the word.
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But whither doth our Kingdome run,
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With such precipitation,
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As if it would go visit faine,
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The Pit of desolation?
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Heav'ns stop it quick; and heale our sicke,
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Forlorne, distracted City,
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Then give us hearts, to play our parts,
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And sing a gratefull ditty.
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Would Heav'ns throw down these cocks o'th game,
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That cry gramercy Sword;
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Then should wee hope to see againe,
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The purity o'the word.
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