 | A royal arbor (1663) |  |
Rebels Market. 1646.
1
Now that the holy Wars are doneBetween the Father and the Son,
And that we have by righteous fate
Distrest a Monarch and his Mate,
Forcing their Heir flye into France,
To weep out his Inheritance.
2
Let's set open all our Packs,Which contain ten thousand wracks,
Cast away on the Red Sea,
At Naseby and at Newberry;
11
We dwell
Close by Hell,
Where we sell
What you will,
That is ill;
For Charity there is cold.
3
If by thee a Murther came,We can give't another Name;
But alwayes provided thus,
That thou hast been one of us,
Gold is the God shall pardon the guilt;
We have
What shall save
Thee from Grave,
For the Law
We can awe,
Though a Princes blood be spilt.
4
If a Church thou hav'st bereftOf its Plate, 'tis holy theft;
Or for zeal-sake if thou beest
Prompted on to spoil a Priest,
Gold's a prevailing advocate:
Then come,
Bring a summe,
Law is dumb,
And submits
To our wits,
For Policy guides a State.
| A royal arbor (1663) | |