Part 8

From a city that yields at the first summons, From plundering goods, either man or woman’s, Or having to do with the House of Commons, Libera, etc.

From a stumbling horse that tumbles o’er and o’er, From ushering a lady, or walking before, From an English-Irish rebel, newly come o’er, {3} Libera, etc.

From compounding, or hanging in a silken altar, From oaths and covenants, and being pounded in a mortar, From contributions, or free-quarter, Libera, etc.

From mouldy bread, and musty beer, From a holiday’s fast, and a Friday’s cheer, From a brother-hood, and a she-cavalier, Libera, etc.

From Nick Neuter, for you, and for you, From Thomas Turn-coat, that will never prove true, From a reverend Rabbi that’s worse than a Jew, Libera, etc.

From a country justice that still looks big, From swallowing up the Italian fig, Or learning of the Scottish jig, Libera, etc.

From being taken in a disguise, From believing of the printed lies, From the Devil and from the Excise, {4} Libera, etc.

From a broken pate with a pint pot, For fighting for I know not what, And from a friend as false as a Scot, Libera, etc.

From one that speaks no sense, yet talks all that he can, From an old woman and a Parliament man, From an Anabaptist and a Presbyter man, Libera, etc.

From Irish rebels and Welsh hubbub-men, From Independents and their tub-men, From sheriffs’ bailiffs, and their club-men, Libera, etc.

From one that cares not what he saith, From trusting one that never payeth, From a private preacher and a public faith, Libera, etc.

From a vapouring horse and a Roundhead in buff, From roaring Jack Cavee, with money little enough, From beads and such idolatrous stuff, Libera, etc.

From holydays, and all that’s holy, From May-poles and fiddlers, and all that’s jolly From Latin or learning, since that is folly, Libera, etc.

And now to make an end of all, I wish the Roundheads had a fall, Or else were hanged in Goldsmith’s Hall. Amen.

Benedicat Dominus.

THE OLD PROTESTANT’S LITANY.

Against all sectaries And their defendants, Both Presbyterians And Independents.

Mr Walter Wilkins, in his Political Ballads of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, says, the imprint of this broadside intimates that it was published in “the year of Hope, 1647,” and Thomson, the collector, added the precise date, the 7th of September.

THAT thou wilt be pleased to grant our requests, And quite destroy all the vipers’ nests, That England and her true religion molests, Te rogamus audi nos.

That thou wilt be pleased to censure with pity The present estate of our once famous city; Let her still be govern’d by men just and witty, Te rogamus, etc.

That thou wilt be pleased to consider the Tower, And all other prisons in the Parliament’s power, Where King Charles his friends find their welcome but sour, Te rogamus, etc.

That thou wilt be pleased to look on the grief Of the King’s old servants, and send them relief, Restore to the yeomen o’ th’ Guard chines of beef, Te rogamus, etc.

That thou wilt be pleased very quickly to bring Unto his just rights our so much-wrong’d King, That he may be happy in everything, Te rogamus, etc.

That Whitehall may shine in its pristine lustre, That the Parliament may make a general muster, That knaves may be punish’d by men who are juster, Te rogamus, etc.

That now the dog-days are fully expired, That those cursed curs, which our patience have tired, May suffer what is by true justice required, Te rogamus, etc.

That thou wilt be pleased to incline conquering Thomas (Who now hath both city and Tower gotten from us), That he may be just in performing his promise, Te rogamus, etc.

That our hopeful Prince and our gracious Queen (Whom we here in England long time have not seen) May soon be restored to what they have been, Te rogamus, etc.

That the rest of the royal issue may be From their Parliamentary guardians set free, And be kept according to their high degree, Te rogamus, etc.