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But plague and famine will come in,
For they and we are near of kin,
And cannot go asunder :
But while the wicked starve, indeed,
The saints have ready at their need
God's providence and plunder.
Princes we are if we prevail,“
And gallant villains if we fail.
When to our fame 'tis told,
It will not be our least of praise,
Since a new state we could not raise
To have destroy'd the old.
Then let us stay, and fight, and vote,
Till London is not worth a groat;
Oh ! 'tis a patient beast?
When we have gall'd and tir'd the mule,
And can no longer have the rule,
We'll have the spoil at least.
THE HUMBLE PETITION OF THE POLTS.
After so many concurring petitions
From all ages and sexes, and all conditions,
We come in the rear to present our follies
To Pym, Stroude, Haslerig, Hampden, and Holles.
Tho' set form of prayer be an abomination, 5
Set forms of petition find great approbation ;
Therefore as others from th' bottom of their souls,
So we from the depth and bottom of our bowls,
According unto the bless’d form you have taught us,
We thank you first for the ills you have brought us :
For the good we receive we thank him that gave it,
for the confidence only to crave it. | Next, in course, we complain of the great violation
Of privilege ; (like the rest of our nation)
But 'tis none of yours of which we have spoken, 15
Which never had being until they were broken ;
But ours is a privilege ancient and native,
Hangs not on an ordinance or pow'r legislative.
And, first 'tis to speak whatever we please,
Without fear of a prison or pursuivants' fees. 20
Next, that we only may lie by authority ;
But in that also you have got the prority.
Next, an old custom, our fathers did name it
Poetical License, and always did claim it.
By this we have pow'r to change age into youth, 25
Turn nonsense to sense, and falsehood to truth :
In brief, to make good whatsoever is faulty ;
This art some poet, or the devil has taught ye :
And this our property you have invaded,
And a privilege of both Houses have made it.
But that trust above all in poets reposed,
That kings by them only are made and deposed :
This tho' you cannot do, yet you are willing ;
But when we undertake deposing or killing,
They're tyrants and monsters; and yet then the poet.
Takes full revenge on the villains that do it. 36
And when we resume a sceptre or crown,
We are modest, and seek not to make it our own.
But is't not presumption to write verses to you,
Who make better poems by far of the two ? 40
For all those pretty knacks you compose,
Alas ! what are they but poems in prose ?
And between those and ours there's no difference,
But that yours want the rhyme, the wit, and the sense.
But for lying (the most noble part of a poet) 45
You have it abundantly, and yourselves know it ;
And tho' you are modest, and seem to abhor it,
It has done yon good service, and thank Hell for it,
Altho' the old maxim remains still in force,
That a sanctify'd cause musthave a sanctify'dcourse,
If poverty be a part of our trade,
SI So far the whole kingdom poets you have made ;
Nay, even so far as undoing will do it,
You have made King Charles himself a poet :
But provoke not his Muse, for all the world knows
Already you have had too much of his prose. 56
A WESTERN WONDER.
you not know, not a fortnight ago,
How they bragg'd of a Western Wonder?
When a hundred and ten slew five thousand men
With the help of lightning and thunder?
There Hopeton was slain again and again,
Or else my author did lie;
With a new Thanksgiving for the dead who areliving,
To God and his servant Chidleigh.
But now on which side was this miracle try'd?
I hope we at last are even;
For SirRalph and his knaves are risenfromtheirgraves
To cudgel the clowns of Devon.
And there Stamford came, for his honour was lame Of the gout three months together;
But it prov'd, when they fought, but a running gout, For his heels were lighter than ever.
For now he outruns his arms and his guns,
And leaves all his money behind him.
But they follow after; unless he takes water,
At Plymouth again they will find him.
What Reading hath cost, and Stamford hath lost, Goes deep in the Sequestrations;
These wounds will not heal with your new great seal, Nor Jepson's declarations.
Now Peters and Case, in your pray'r and grace, 25
Remember the new Thanksgiving;
Isaac and his wife, now dig for your life,
Or shortly you'll dig for your living,
O what a damp it struck thro' the camp!
But as for honest Sir Ralph,
You heard of that Wonder, of the lightning and
Which made the lie so much the louder: [thunder,
Now list to another, that miracle's brother,
Which was done with a firkin of powder.
It blew him to the Vies without beard or eyes,
But at least three heads and a half.