The Turne of Time,
OR,
The Period of Rebellion Dedicated, to the infamous Members late
Sitting at Westminster.
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1.
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NOw now, your gone I vow,
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and all your treasons blasted.
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[V]engeance no longer will allow
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what seaven yeares hath lasted.
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[Th]en shut up shop, and take your heeles,
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and with all speed away.
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[Pr]ide, totters, and Rebellion reeles;
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hey for Utopia.
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2.
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Your damned plots, and jealousies,
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your Schismes, and your feares,
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Your Oaths and your conspiracies
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apparantly appeares.
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Then put to Sea, avoid delay
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for CHARLES, must once more Reigne.
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You are but dead if that you stay,
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or ere returne againe.
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3.
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Ther's some that say; you went away
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because a stinking vault,
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Beneath your House of mischiefe lay;
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O privie! much in fault,
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To drive away so rare a crew
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by thy most noisome smell.
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In Pilgrims weeds we will thee view,
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no lakes, but holy Cell;
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4.
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But fie no, it is not so,
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no execrement could drive
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The Saints from their Seraglio,
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who for a crowne durst strive.
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It was the feare, of CHARLES returne,
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that sent the Members packing.
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The tripple tree, they fear'd to see;
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they hate the thought of racking.
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5.
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Since you intend; ne're to depend,
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a Presbeterian mule;
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Bridled, and Saddled doth attend,
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a bonny blew Capt Fule.
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Will lackey by you, till you come,
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within the sight of* Scone,
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Where Mahomets Elizium,
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you shall possesse, alone.
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* a City
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in the
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heart of
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Scotland.
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6.
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O rare! meethinks, the Devill winks,
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and all the powers below;
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Are puzel'd, Machavill he thinks,
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his sonnes, doe stupid grow.
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And Cattaline is angry much,
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that traytors worse then he:
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Should fall when as, their hopes were such;
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with Nimrod, great to be.
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7.
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Now all your plots, joyn'd with the Scots,
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doe not the least availe you;
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For why, these hardy Northen sots,
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meane shortly to assaile you.
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Their high Sanhedrim angry are,
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their Coblers, and Sow-gelders,
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Must not the sweets of England share;
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and be adopted Elders.
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8.
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Nor is this all, like to befall;
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beave Poyer's Myrmidons,
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Resolved are, for buriall,
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like Mars, his dearest sonnes.
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And to the death for to oppose,
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your trayterous commands
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They sweare 'tis fit, you should not sit
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while Pembroke, Castle stands.
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9.
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Your most adulterated Church
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the Synods prostitute,
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You now alas leave in the lurch,
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for Marshall, is growne mute;
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Her vitiation, we deplore,
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her sorrow is our truth.
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But shortly we will her restore,
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to her first forme, and truth.
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10.
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This most unexpiated sin,
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will sure your ruine be;
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And sincke you all for what hath bin,
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to hells profundity.
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Medea like to cure our ill,
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our age for to renew.
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You did our ancient order kill,
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and yet we want, a new.
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11.
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While you your Babell doe erect,
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in one hand ther's a sword;
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Your enterprise for to protect,
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by all men so abhord.
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And in the other hand you beare
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a trowell stones to lay;
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But now the Walles, you never reare,
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your workmen want their pay.
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12.
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While that the King, was governing,
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ere your damn'd treasons was.
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Loyalty was a golden thing,
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and England walled with brasse.
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But we are now, of nothing sure,
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but Blasphemies and errors.
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And are in nothing now secure,
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but that we know, our terrors.
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13.
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Cheare up againe, dread Soveraigne,
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now lockt up in a cage.
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Behold to set thee up againe,
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in Warlike equipage.
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All England ready are to rise;
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the Scots too, needs will fight.
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And for the time to come be wise,
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ner'e more resigne thy right.
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14.
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And Hammond, thou AEgyptian Dog;
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thou monster of mankind,
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Thou worse then a Molossian Hog,
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who bearest a Judas mind.
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Prepare thy selfe, to die a death,
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no traytor ever knew.
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By tortures to resign thy breath,
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in all the peoples view.
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15.
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His Majestie, thy livery,
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upon his eye doth weare;
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Both black and blew, beaten by thee,
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O Devill! void of feare,
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His fare is poore, two varlets base,
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doe only on him wait.
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O direfull execrable case!
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is this King CHARLES his Fate.
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16.
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But Harry Martin laughs at this,
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and Say doth say 'tis well.
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Cromwell, esteemes it his chiefe blisse,
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of Hammonds guize, to tell.
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Tom Fairfax, sweares this makes for him.
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Rainsborow skips for joy.
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And Barkstead, drinks bowels to the brim
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healthes, to the Kings anoy.
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17.
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But Martin now, thy fate I vow,
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is very neare at hand.
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What strength, the pocks will thee alow
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which hath eate up thy land.
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And shortly, will thy body too;
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now summon up to save thee.
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Else Gregory, will claime his due
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and then the Devill have thee.
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18.
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And Nol, thy end, is ne're at hand,
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thy Kingdome is departed.
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Thou must no longer rule the land,
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but as a Rogue be Carted.
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And by a Carmans blessed guide,
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visit the fatall tree.
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Then there's an end of all thy pride,
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and thy base treacherie.
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19.
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Ye twins in mischiefe Say, and Tom,
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two Rebells, chief'st in action;
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To pluck King CHARLES, his glory [from,]
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and so support your faction.
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Behold a Sledge, an Axe, and fire,
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a hangman, ready too.
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Stands ready to give you your hire,
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who all Ils, durst to doe.
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20.
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And Rainsborow, thy Reigne is out,
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great Admirall at Sea.
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It were a sinne thy fall to doubt,
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O Skipper! of Degree.
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And Barkstead, thou ere long alas;
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White-hall, must yield perforce[.]
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Great Kings ner'e built that stately Ma[sse,]
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to shelter foot, and horse.
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21.
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The turne of time, we now have seen
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Rebellion's, on the ground;
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While we crie God save King and Que[ene;]
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let Drums, and Trumpets sound[.]
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Let all the people now sing loud
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in mirthfull joyous sort.
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Hang all the Parliants bas[e crow'd]
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but God preserve th[e Court.]
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