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Most sacred Soveraigne, honour of this Age,
Thy Justice wee appeale, brought on the Stage
By close Camelions; (foes who friendes appeare)
Abusing our indulgence and thine Eare,
Deserving on the parchment of their backe,
The hang-man's whips, should in characters blacke
Draw out each passage of those wicked arts,
They us'd to wound thy grievous Subjects' hearts,
And kindle in thy royall Breast a fire
Which never can be quench'd, till thy just ire
Their bloud doe expiate; till vengeance fall
And, from the heavens, confound those fire-brands all.
Lo! braine-sicke Cherelus dare brave our State,
As at his fancie thy displeasure's spaite
Were readie to breake forth. Darre hee repine
That Light, throughout this glorious Yle doth shine,
For which, too narrow Europ shall be found,
Before the worke bee with the issue crown'd.
Base lies now vents hee, now with malice stings
Those honour'd Heraulds of the King of Kings;
Chaifes, that from 'mongst our honey-bees wee drive
Those Wasps, whose venome had infect'd the hyve.
That wee, those limbs of Antichrist abjure,
Unmitring monsters that did court the Whorre
Of Rome, this Land adventuring to defile,
And make, through their abominations, vile.
Now, to our charge disloyaltie is laide,
That (Parricids) wee dare the throne invade,

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Rob Caesar of his due, disclaime our head,
And limits of alleadgeance doe exceed.
O hight of hate! O hellish impudence!
To thinke, that men of honour could dispence
With conscience, with their duetie to a King,
So good, so just, so wisely governing.
Whose Love, as of a Father's, found we have,
As of a Master wee his favour crave,
His Aide as of a Lord; since Father's love,
And Son's obedience, hand in hand doe move
To homage and protection, mutually,
Since true relation Prince and people tye.