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66

Epig. 43. On the probable continuance of these Civill Warrs, the Scot, and Irish not reduced.

Oh now after a little ease
We must againe our weapons weild,
Bee't so, since war must purchase Peace
Lets take the Field.
But see (oh wretched Land) how thinne
And barren thou of Natives art,
Thy much presumption is thy sinne,
Thou need's must smart.
Money the nerv's of War is wanting,
Yet thou another Shock must stand,
Thy wounded heart full sore lies panting,
Oh dying Land.
The fleering Hollander, and France,
Rejoyce to see Ærynnis reigne,
That thou must lead a second dance,
To thy own bane.

67

Yee Heavens, must Marius once more rise
From the Minturnian lake,
And Scilla horrid death devise
His ire to slake.
Pharsalias fields our eyes have seene,
And must Philippie's battaile end
The Harvest, the corn yet but greene,
Oh Heaven defend.
 

Naseby.