Basely BUTCHERED by those who are,

Omne nefas proni patare pudoris inanes
Crudeles, violenti, Importunique tyranni
Mendaces, falsi, perversi, perfidiosi,
Faedifragi, falsis verbis infunda loquentes.

IN WHICH IS INCLUDED, The several Combinations and machinations that brought that incomparable PRINCE to the Block, the overtures hapning at the famous Seige of Col­chester, the Tragicall fals of Sir Charls Lucas and Sir George Lisle, the just reward of the Level­ler Rainsborough, Hamilton and Bailies Treche­ries, In delivering the late Scottish Army into the hands of Cromwell, and the designe the Rebels have, to destroy the ROYAL POSTERITY.

Printed in the Year, 1649.

To the Sacred MAJESTIE OF Great Britain, France and Ireland, KING CHARLS II.

May it please Your Majesty,
STerne Fates permitted, Your Great Syre to fall
By those (who at the first) disguiz'd their ends
With specious showes, and have procur'd our thrall
Like holy miscreants, and Religious Fiends,
By a most pious trick, have slav'd us all
To Death, an Hell, till Jove his mission sends
By Michal's hand, to Thee Great Charls His Heire
To Redeeme us, and fill the Regall Chaire.
The depth of their Designe, was hatch'd in Hell
From the first houre, Your Father warm'd his Seate;
So that even Infants now can prattle well
Twenty years since (in thought they were as great
As now they are) and (O most strange) to tell
Had taken Oathes, their Machine, to compleat
Or sinke in the attempt, though to the Nation
It seem'd, they nothing sought, but Reformation.
O Reformation dire, that kils our King,
Doth both invert, and subvert, Discipline;
Vacates all Law, each private man doth bring
(For fear) to countenance, their damn'd Designe.
Propriety, Great Britains Gimiel KING
Taken away, while Treason in a line
Like the plague takes, and the damn'd Faction grows
Great in that Tribe, in which at first it rose.
Our Goods and Lives, we forfeit at their wils
Our Noble Heros, do by dozens fall;
The Loyall Gentry, grief, or Prisons kils;
The People each day rob'd and spoil'd of all,
While those Plebeians, who procure our ills
Feed high, sleep soft, have Kingdomes at their cals.
Strange revolution, O accurst mutation
That appoints Coblers for to rule a Nation.
But sure (Great Prince) thou oft hast laugh'd aloud
To cogitate, what their ambition
Hath brought them to, who now are grown so proud
As (fearlesse of thy strength, and their condition)
As to proclaime Thee Traytor, midst the crowd
And to divulge, their Trayterous prohibition
If thou returne, for to regaine thy right
Thou must expect to perish by their spight.
Summon all Nations, to thy speedy aide,
Search from the Orient to the Occident,
The Gets, and Parthians, Switzers, (who are swaid
By fierce Camillas second) Tartars bent
To bloud and horrour, those whose God is said
To hang twixt Heaven and Earth, the Truculent;
Fastidious Moore, take all, except 'gainst none,
For many hands, must lead Thee to Thy Throne.
So let this most unhospitable Land
Smart for her Treasons till all kneele to Thee
Offering themselves as Slaves to Thy Command
Whom Jove hath sworn, an Earthly Deitie
That by Thy heavy, and Victorious hand
Those Monsters who doom'd Thy great Syre to die
May receive treble vengeance, and so perish,
Ensuing times, may fear their thoughts to cherish.
That having gain'd thine own, appeas'd the Rabble,
Silenc'd Thy foes, by Counsels or by Death,
Purg'd that accursed fowle Augaean stable
At Westminster, by Thy vindictive breath
Like Thy Great Ancestors, Thou maist be able
To weare in Peace, Great Britaines glorious Wreath,
While all Thy Subjects for to serve Thee Joy
Singing allowd with me, Vive le Roy.

To the Author, on his Tragedy.

WIth a sowre aspect, and a Critick eye
I have perus'd, thy well writ Tragedie;
My ravisht soul, grew sicker then the Age
When as I hastned, to the latter page:
Wrapt in a sweet amazement such an one
As dreaming men, sometimes, do thinke upon
Who when they wake, are wroth and vexed sore
They of that sweet delusion taste no more.
I wisht thy Play had been more largely writ
Or I had ne're seene, or perused it.
In which Apollo, and the three times three
Sweet Thespian Ladies, chaunt (though dolefully)
Such stately layes, that famous Sophocles
Would write his Plaies a new, saw he but these:
Melpomene, girt in a purple Robe
Her hand in Heaven, her foot upon Earths Globe
Is taught by thee, to chaunt forth Tragick notes
Such as do damn the Rebels and their Votes.
He that can read thy Play, and yet forbear
For his late Murthered Lord, to shed a tear,
Hath an heart fram'd of Adamant and may
Passe for an Atheist the Reformed way.
But to conclude, thy raptures I admire
As those are sung, even to Apollo's lyre,
E. D.


THough Johnson, Shakespeare, Goffe, and Devenant,
Brave Sucklin, Beaumont, Fletcher, Shurley want
The life of action, and their learned lines
Are loathed, by the Monsters of the times;
Yet your refined Soules, can penetrate
Their depth of merit, and excuse their Fate:
With this position those rude Elves that dare
'Gainst all Divine, and humane Laws, make War;
Who count it treble glory, to transgresse
Perfect in nothing, but imperfectnesse.
Can finde no better engine to advance
Their Thrones, then vile, and beastly Ignorance:
Their bloudy Myrmidons, o'th' Table round
Project, to raze, our Theaters to the ground:
No marvell they lap bloud as milke and glory
To be recorded, villaines, upon Story.
"For having kill'd their KING, where will they stay
"That thorow GOD, and MAJESTIE, make way,
"Throwing the Nobles, and the Gentry downe
"Levelling, all distinctions, to the Crowne.
So that (which Heaven forbid) should they reduce
Our English world, to their confused use,
'Twill be admir'd, more then a prodegie
To hear an Herald, state a prodigee;
An 'twill be thought, a sharpe, and bitter blur
To salute any, by the title (Sir.)
We here present you, his deplored fall
Whose Death will prove a ruine generall,
(If Fates forbid not) and we hold to view
What the world knows, is not more strange then true:
Anotomizing Treason, damning them
Who Murther'd Charls, to share His Diadem,
And to preserve their Soules in flesh, whose ends
Unto the ruine, of all Europe tends:
But Joves all potent thunder shall divide
Their plots, and sinke them, in their height of pride.

The Persons.

  • Fairfax.
  • Ireton.
  • Rainsborough.
  • Peters.
  • Bosvill.
  • Cromwell.
  • Pride.
  • Sir Charls Lucas.
  • Sir George Lisle.
  • Blackburne.
  • Lord Capell.
  • Lord Goring.
  • Treason, Ambition, Lust, Perjury, Sacri­ledge, Revenge, Parlia­ment-men, Messengers. Mrs. Lambert.
  • Mutes.
    • Souldiers
    • Servants.



Enter Hugh Peters, and Oliver Cromwwell.

MY fine facetious Devill, who wear'st the Liverie of the Stygian God, as the white Embleme of thy innocence; Hast thou prepar'd a pithie formall Speech against the essence and the Power of KINGS? that when to morrow all my Myrmi­dons doe meet on Onslow-heath, like the Greek Exorcist, renowned Calchas, when with his Magicke numbers he incouraged great Alreus Sonne and martiall Diomed to prosecute their Siege 'gainst Priam's Towne, by thy in­sinuating perswasive art, their hearts may move, like Reeds, when Boreas breath smites the huge Oakes, that on Mount Pelion grow, I know that Nectar hangs upon thy lippes, and that the most absurd Syllogisme, or care-deceiving paradox, maintain'd by thee, shall seem [Page 2]oraculous, more dangerous to question than the Sacred Writ:

Sing then (my Hugh) and so thy Numbers sing,
All those that heare, may joyntly curse their King.

Most valiant, and invincible Commander, whose Name's as terrible to the Royallists as e're was Huniades to the Turkes, or Talbot to the French; thy Nose, like a bright Beacon, sparkling still (the Aetna, that doth fame our English world) hangs like a Comet o're thy dreadfull face, denouncing death & vengeance; the Ancients fam'd Alcides for his Acts, thou hast not slaine, but tane the Kingly Lyon, and like great Tamber­laine with his Bajazet, canst render him within an Iron-Cage a spectacle of mirth, when e're thou pleasest. Had the Snake-footed, earth-borne Sons of old but had thy ayde, Imponere pelion ossae, old Saturne might have laugh'd to see his Sonne sit sadly by him in the Cime­rian shades, while thou didst sway the Empire of the Skies; Englands best Patriot, and my noble Patron, a Sermon (such as Ignatius Loyalla himselfe, were he to morrow to supply my place, for dangerous Doctrine, direfull Use, and dreadfull Application, would glory to name his) I have provided such an one,

As shall confirme our Faction ten times more
Then all that they have known, or heard before:

In it I'le prove Kings (ab origine) have been the Peoples plague, given them by the angry Gods in wrath, the meer exuberance of their crimes, the sordid Vulgar be­ing delighted much to honour those dull Images which themselves erect, and dread those Anticks which them­selves depaint, themselves affording both the hornes and nailes which make them either dangerous or ugly, I will [Page 3]assert, that Regall power is Devilish, and inconsistent with the Peoples Freedome: I will make it good, the Tyrant now in hold, (whom some yet call, their Lord King CHARLES) doth merit violent death, as guilty of the many thousand horrours committed in the late most bitter Warre, I will demonstratively—


Enough, enough, (my dearest Hugh) thou art my better Genius, thy advice, I will relie on with more sure respect, then on a Sybils words or Delphian Oracle, drink the Elixar of that pretious mettall,

[he gives him Gold]

'tis soveraign 'gainst that perilous disease, call'd Speaking truth, 'twill prove an animation to thy mind, for to pro­ceed in thy audacious practise (I meane, against the King and's House of Peers) thou'lt find it a most precious An­tidote against the poyson, wavering fame shall spit, and to conclude, a perfect supplement of all defects that Time, or Fate, shall by harsh doome appoint,

But what will please the best (my dearest Hugh)
'Twill purvey for thee, Wine, and Wenches too.

Sir, you are pleased to make my faults your mirth, I doe confesse the luscious Paphian sinne, hath ever van­quish'd all my virtuous powers, the Cyprian Queene (in full aspect of Mars) being predominant solely at my birth, besides the constitution of my body made up of moisture and venerable humors (though some great La­dies say, leane men doe best) may help for to extenuate my crime of being too often prov'd beneath the Navell: But Noble Sir, this Colloquie is too poor, if we consi­der our most high resolves, our language should be like those Lawes we meane to give, awfull and to be won­der'd at by mortals, sable-brow'd Saturne, and bloud-thirsty [Page 4] Mars must seem sole Rectors over us abroad, though Venus and her soft Sonne the sightlesse Boy, challenge our utmost faculties in private.


Thou art that Load-stone, which shall draw my sense to any part of policy i'the Machiavilian world, we two (like Mahomet and his pliant Monke) will frame an English Alchoran, which shall be written with the self-same pensil great Draco grav'd his Lawes; but first, we must subdue the testie Scot, and send the Beggars home, as lowsie, though not so propt with limbs, or so well shap'd as when they chose the politique Hamilton to be their Generall: meane time if those auspicious starres of sinne, whose influence hath prosper'd Treason hither­to, shall still continue gracious to our villany, Tom Fair­fax may take in the Towne of Colchester, and force those stubborn truly-valiant Heroes (for in my thoughts I doe esteem them so who have tane shelter in that antient City at least for to comply on remisse tearms; my next work then is to new-mould our Army, and give a strong pur­gation to those Punies who act for me, and may be cal­led my Parliament, whose great worke yet remaines to do (my Hugh) the King shall die, and they shal Father the most damned act upon the power of justice; that done, all Earles and Lords shall downe for to make way for me and those I favour,

Then thee and I, and those whom we create
Will Reigne like Princes, and the Lords of Fate.

I knew before the scope of your intents, and doe applaud them as magnanimous, and the sole way left to preserve our lives; in order unto which your deare de­signe, it shall be my taske, both at Presse and Pulpit, to [Page 5]render Kingly Government obnoxious and incompa­tible with the Peoples Rights; to prove the imprisoned King a truculent Tyrant, whose bloud alone can expiate Heavens wrath, and purchase an atonement with the Deities; expect me all I may (renowned Sir) for pro­mulgation of our well-fixt Cause, from which no feare of paine, or hope of profit shall be of force to draw me.

For he that dares attempt, and goes not on,
Doth leap for safety into Phlegeton.

Our conference here must end, some three daies hence I march towards the cold North to meet the Ban­nock feeding fierry Scots: they have (I heard) already worsted Lambert, and puff'd up with the pride of victory come on like Lyons, flush'd in humane gore, I shall not need to pray your readinesse.


Command me as your Creature; Sir, you were pleased to impose a taske upon me (which, by the ayde of some one amongst the Nine, I know not which to thanke for the good turne) I have performed, after a te­dious pumping: the Theame you gave me, Sir, you know was this, ‘The Peoples right transcends the power of Kings.’ Sir, I have done my best to justifie your learned Axiome in this scroule.

gives him a Paper.

Your love to my requests makes your perfor­mance of them swift and punctuall by the great Genius of this Land (o're which I hope to Reigne) I had forgot what late I urg'd you to, this shall oblige my love—What's here — I am an ill Versefier or Verse­maker, (what doe you call your Trimeter-men?) and [Page 6]none but those have sipt of Hellicon (I've heard) can grace a Verse i'th' reading it —pray sing them your selfe.

gives the Scroule backe to Peters.

How Sir? sing them!


Sing them, or say them, all's one; thinke not I I take you for a Ballet-Poet, but I want tearmes of art.


At your pleasure Sir.

Peters reads
Even till this Age the People durst not see
The pride of pompe in formall Tyrannie,
The People who raise Kings unto the Crowne
Are ladders, standing still, to let them downe.

The Peoples backs is the worst paire of staires a man can possibly adventure upon; they are strong, but slippery; firme, but false: You are an excellent Simi­list (my Hugh) 'tis an apt comparison to similize the People to a Ladder; but I pray Heaven thee and I have not ascended so high upon this tall Ladder that we shall never have an opportunity to descend without hazar­ding our necks.


I beseech you Sir, either heare me, without pa­raphrasing, or command me read no more—


Nay, now I see thou art a pettish Poet; read on, I'le be as silent as a Statue—

Abolish these false Oracles of might,
'Cause we were once blind, shal we now hate light?
Why, like the wood that yeilds helves to the Axe
Should we upon our selves lay heavy taxe,
[Page 7]
Setting up Kings our freedome to confound
With our own strength, exhausting our own ground?

So, so, enough of this, I'le heare the rest in in private, let it suffice (deare Hugh) that I accept your Verses with all love, and do assigne you (if Apollo please) a Grove of Bay to shade your learned skull from his all-piercing Beames; wing'd-Time hath sent one of his Sonnes to warne me hasten hence; my fate moves swift, and I must move with it (my Hugh) Farewell, faile not to offer up strict Orisons unto our swarthy Patron if now I prove victorious:

A King and Kingdome is my valours prize,
By both their ruines, I intend to rise.
manet Peters.
exit Cromwell.

This fellow (sure) was born (as the Third Richard, who once rul'd this Land) with his mouth full of teeth, Nature hath given him an iron soule, able and active limbs, a politique braine which is indeed a store-house of politique stratagems, as if she meant him for the fall & ruine of all mankind; his stout Confederates work their ends amaine, but he outworks 'em all; the very mine they've plac'd for to blow up their pious Soveraigne, shall countermine by Him ruine to themselves, and I saile with them to the invisible Land (my Hugh) the King must die, those were his words: Oh sad and fatall project! when they have serv'd their utmost ends upon Him, and on their knees tooke Oathes to re-instate Him, must a black Coffin be His Throne, and a cold Vault His garnished Pavillion? Let the fam'd Villaines of all former times have their dire deeds razed out of Fames black Booke as triviall accidents and neglected dreams, [Page 8]that these may take up all the roome on Record for the most glorious Miscreants e're Rebell'd; but what strange fancy lurks within my braine, which makes me tax their waies with whom I act, whose deeds I doe applaud as meritorious, deserving honour, and the best repute? what vile sinister fate governs my life? I loath the ills I doe, yet hugge them next my heart. Pardon great Jove and my most gracious Prince, whose virtues doe deprive thee of a being; I must goe on, though Orcus yawne upon me, and Demogorgon (with his damned crew) di­ctates in person what I preach or write. Cromwell I come with a disguised face, with as reserv'd a cunning as that Greek that broughe in Pallas's Horse to halfe-raz'd Troy; thy craft I wil repell with double care, resting as jealous as I lay perdue behind a potent Foe; thy guilt is great, so mine and all of us; 'tis policy that must protect my life, and place me a degree above you all.

For he that will the Devils Master be,
Must have a mind, more mischievous then he.
The end of the first Act.


Enter Fairfax, Ireton, Rainsborow, in Armes, Drums beating, Colours flying, with Soldiers as before the Towne of Colchester.

THus having tam'd our Enemies in Kent, quieted Cornwall, and secured Devonshire; what now remaines, but with accustomed courage to take in this strong Town of Colchester? with­in whose Walls doe lodge divers of note, who are pro­fess'd and open Enemies unto the State we serve.


The fate was just, that with delusive hopes hath led them to a receptacle of ruine, from whence they cannot budge without our knowledge.


They're taken in our Toyles, and must not scape with life; quickly let us draw out our Line, and raise our Batteries, girting the Towne with a close Siege, and let the Canons dreadfull voice proclaime to them their certaine ruine.


First let us Summon them to yeild on Termes; if they prove so Fool-hardy as to refuse, then let our Iron-balls in smoake and sulphur sing a sad Requiem in their fearfull eares, sound loud the Summons, that the Foe may heare & know we wish a Parlee.

A Parlee sounded.
Sir Charles Lucas, Sir George Lisle, Lord Capell, Lord Goring, &c. appeares as upon the Walls.
Sir Charles.

Who gives this hasty Summons?


Know Sir, the Generall & the Army rais'd for the preservation of the State of England, for to sup­port [Page 10]and vindicate their Priviledges; in their Names doth demand, that you yeild up your selves, and all are under your Command, together with this Towne, unto their use.

Sir Charles.

Traytour to God, and to thy gracious Prince (for whom I hold this City) chosen thereto by the Essexianists; know, I and these my loyall valiant Cohorts will hold this Towne while twenty doe survive, and rather then yeild up the Towne to you we'l blow our selves (with it) into the Ayre.

Sir George.

Fairfax, thou and thy trayterous Asso­ciates shall find, this Towne harbours such Men as dare meet thee ingyrt with all thy Myrmidons, one to a hun­dred, and a hundred to a thousand; Fortune hath fa­vour'd thee I doe confesse (thou hast triumph'd thou bloudy Marius, and shalt descend unto Hels shades like him) but that proves not the justnesse of thy cause:

For, by the same rule Ottaman may boast,
The partiall Deities favour him the most.

By that God whom I serve thou Tray­tour Lisle, I'le see thee hewne to pieces, and thy curst Body throwne unto the Dogs.

Sir George.

Avaunt thou home-bred Mungrel, who art (in truth) meerly a valiant Voice, an hollow Cask in wch some rumbling wind delights to sport it selfe; Thersites thus, durst menace Agamemnon, Know Fellow, I have been victorious even against a multitude, have trod the thorny path of cragged Warre, my Body naked and my Feet unshood, have view'd those horrors of a purple Field untroubled and untouch'd, which but-to heare summ'd up, would fright thy Coward-soule from forth her dirty Dog-hole.


Why spend we time in Dialogue with [Page 11]these Miscreants, these cautiffe Elves, who fight for Yoakes and Fetters, with as much zeale as half-starv'd Wretches beg a boone to sate their hungers, and wish profusely for to spend their blouds to please a Tyrants lust?

Lord Capell.

Away, Mechanick Slave, what sawcy Devill prompts thee so to prate, when to the meanest here thou ought'st to stoop with all obsequious duty? thou sordid Groome, whom of a Skippers Boy, the Westminsterian Rebels made thee their Admiral, whom even the dullest Sea-man so despis'd, they scorn'd to hale an Anchor at thy bidding, and at last (tyr'd with thy loathed company) intending to have sowz'd thee in the deep (mov'd with thy tricling teares, and pitious plaints) set thee on shore to foot it backe to Westminster; how dares thy perjur'd tongue to challenge us, serving our dread Lord, His sacred Majesty, Him whom all Europe wonders at, as the best of all the Christian Kings, who for his discreet valour Rivals Scipio, for prudence Salo­mon, for temperance without parallel, as are his suffe­rings, and griping griefs by you (base Traytours) each day heap'd upon Him, having immur'd His Royall Per­son up in a strong Den fit for untamed Lyons, banish'd His loyall and Imperiall Lady, and with Her the two eldest of His Issue, bereaved Him of His Navie and Re­venue, and what e're truth called His; know perjur'd Rebels, e're this Summer end, (perhaps e're Sol doth hunt the Nemean Lyon) we shall have strong relief, you a just punishment; if not,

Our comfort is, though we be left i'th' lurch,
We Martyrs, fall, for God, the King, and Church.

You'l not accept then of our profer'd Sum­mons, or come to composition.

L. Goring.

Compound! confound we may (perhaps) some thousands of you.

Sir Charles.

I am resolv'd ye Traytors, and so I know are these my honoured Friends, which is the sense of all within the Towne, to hold this place even to the utmost hazard; nor are we destitute of much Provision, enough for to supply us many Months; when that failes, we have Horses many hundreds, of Dogs and Cats even a multitude: Zeno, and Chrisippus, the two maine pillars of the Stoicks Sect, pronounce such meats as usefull to Mankind as the best Sheep or Neat: the antient Al­maines held the self-same doctrine: We'l be their Imi­tators, and that you may know 'tis our resolution, for­sake your station, e're we leave the Walls, or the hot breath that lightens from an angry Canons throat, shall trie to waft you thence, away, away, we'l meet you in plaine Field:

Thou true Jehovah, now owne thine owne Cause,
Thou know'st we fight for thee, our King, & Lawes.
Draw up our Troups, we'l make these Boasters feel
The potent rigour of our strong-edg'd steel.
Alarum, excursions, a shout within, and crying, Open the Gates, On, on, on.
Fairfax cum suis Exit.
Enter Sr C. Lucas, Sr G. Lisle, & Ld Capel, their Party: At the other dore, Fairfax, Ireton, Rainsborow, with their Party, they charge three to three, while the Souldiers on both sides in­counter, the Roundheads are beaten off, a Re­treat sounded.
Sir Charles.

The Power superior to the God of War hath grac'd our first attempt with victory; the Rebels (with exceeding losse) are fled, whom the most valiant [Page 13] Capel hath in pursuit; see how they scut over the neigh­bouring Plaines like flocks of Sheep before an hungry Lyon; so for the future, let Almighty Jove infatuate their proud hearts with panick feare who strike at him himselfe in his Vicegerent:

Kings are Earths Gods, and those that menace them
(Were't in their power) would share His Diadem.
He speaks this looking upon some Roundheads lying dead on the ground.

Alas deluded self-destroying Men! whose erring Soules by this winged Hermes, hath usher'd unto the depth of Barathrum, in blew flames, for evermore to howle, cursing your selves for your impieties! Oh erring Vul­gar! oh besotted People, that take such paines to be­come miserable, who (with the Phrygian Fabulators Dog) catch at vaine shadowes, and lose the substance! So the Athenians courted thirty Tyrants to be the Par­tie that should gall their heart-strings; and the fond Sy­racusians laboured sore to have the Dionisii be their Consuls: Was ever any Nation bless'd with so good a Prince (as CHARLES our King) that so opprobriously deserted Him? succeeding Ages cannot chuse but say,

Nations have suffer'd cause their Kings were ill,
But Britains CHARLES, His Peoples sinnes did kill.

But let it hap as God shall appoint, if it be written in the Booke of Fate the Rebels shall dissolve the English Mo­narchy, with the life-bloud of their most gracious Prince, yet let us hinder that dire ominous day, (while we have being) with our utmost might, and e're we fall and be commixt with new and stranger earth, by hard atchievements and heroick acts (perform'd for Charles, and for our Countries sake) let us provide us fame when we are dead, that the next Age, when they shall read the Story of this unnaturall, uncivill Warre, and amongst [Page 14]a crowd of Warriours find our Names filed with those that durst passe through all horrors by death and ven­geance for their KING and Soveraigne:

They may sing Peans to our valiant Acts,
And yeild us a kind plaudit for our facts.
Sir George.

If we defend this Towne against the Re­bels furie but one Month longer, the Hamiltonian Duke (who now hath passed Tweed with a numerous Army, full Twenty thousand Scots, Ten thousand English com­manded by the truly-valiant and invincible Knight, re­nowned Langdale, we shall have honourable and sure re­liefe; meane time by frequent Sallies we'l indeavour to breake in pieces Fairfax his guilty Forces; the Prince of Wales is now upon the Downes, and with Him most part of the Royall Navie; the Londoners speake high against the Junto, and every day are fear'd to rise against them; the loyall Welch continue strong in Armes, and eke in every Angle of the Land the People wish for a­ction; the face of things at present promise fairly:

But should all faile (by force of Destinie)
Our comfort is, we (when we list) can die.
Sir Charles.

I heed not Hamilton or his Resolves, knowing him to be ambitious, treacherous, a Proteus that can shift into all shapes, a slie insinuating Sicophant, who by his most falacious machinations hath been the ruine of the KING and us; 'twas he that instigated first the KING to raise a Warre against the Covenanters, (yet underhand incited them against Him) 'twas he that gave His Majesty advice to go in Person to the Senate-house, there to demand the five seditious Members (yet secretly sent them word of His intentions) 'twas he (how e're he seemed in show averse) that when His Majesty scap'd to the Scots, when Fairfax wholly had subdued [Page 15]His Forces, procured the damned sallary of his Master, for Twenty thousand pounds; and, I much feare, 'tis he, and onely he, that will betray the Army he now leads, (knowst thou not George) he ever did aspire to be the King of Scots.

'Tis he that hath made England all on flame,
Blasted its beauty, burnt its goodly frame;
And the Armilla, which his zeale doth twist
Is to be Cataline, yet a Calvanist.
Sir George.

Let him be damn'd and sinke to Hell with all his Sinnes about him, let us doe our parts, and leave the rest to Heaven (Faith Sir Charles) since we have beat the Foe, while swarthy Tom flies with his timerous Troups, here let us frollick one halfe houre, Mars and Thalia sometimes doe accord, onely a Health or two unto our Royall Master.

Sir Charles.

George, I am easily led by thy advice, al­though it suite not with our present state to play at Barly-breake in a Golgatha, or drinke downe sorrow 'mongst a heap of Trunks as livelesse as those Clods they lie upon; I prithee doe thy pleasure: but, say that Ireton (who stands facing us) should in the midst of our intended mirth come up and turne our triumph into purple teares, and in our Goblets mix our sanguine gore.

Sir George.

Why? 'twill be rare, I'de wish no other sport; we Lapethites should soon repell those Centaures, the scuffle (sure) would be as strange and famous as that wherein all Ixion's Horse-hoof'd race, were sent to Hell (swift Nessus onely scaping) who was reserv'd for a more dreadfull Fate, they shal have nought to boast of (come they here) but Iron in their Fesh, and Gun-powder in their Noses.

Sir Charles.

Be it as thou dost wish, I'le strive to be [Page 16]as mery as Democritus, and laugh at warre and damages.

Sir George.

You highly honour us (most noble Go­vernour) My fellow Soldiers, have all

Speaking to the Soldiers.

your Armes in readinesse as you were now to Charge the surly Foe, we will not jest away our lives, or give the Roundheads cause to boast a triumph in their Cathe­drated Conventicles; two of you fetch

Sends two Soldiers.

that Runlet of old Sherrie that's placed behind the dore of the Towne Hall, bring also store of Pots, for we shall use 'em here (as the Trojans, when by Atreus Sons they were beleaguer'd close for Hellens rape, Hector, Sarpedon, Troyolus, and old Priam, beneath faire Illion's Walls (gyrt in bright Armes) sate banqueting before the black-hayr'd Greeks, we'l sit securely and pledge full-crown'd Cups, (perhaps) 'twill mad the Rebels:

Which if I know, I shall grow fat with laughter,
And I will use to drinke them downe hereafter.
Sir Charles.

The same good-fellow (George) thou ever wert; see how the Rebels grin and gape upon us.

Sir George.

They should participate of our flowing Cups would they take but the paines to come amongst us, such as the Roman Cateline did provide for those he had drawne in to his Confederacy, Wine mixt with bloud (an horrid Sacacrament) by which they swore to level Romes proud battlements,

The Soldiers returne with the Wine.

So, set it downe (my Friends) and quickly pierce it, and then draw out with as inlarg'd a mind as Princes give Gratuities— 'tis rich and lusty liquor, such as would make Heraclitus to laugh, and dull Diogenes daunce, even in his Tub; Here noble Governour, this Bowle brimfull unto the happinesse of Him whom fame of all the European Kings doth call the best.

Sir Charles.

With as much willingnesse as one half-spent [Page 17]with a contagious Feaver, receives a Dose he hopes may bring him health, will

All kneele, they drinke the Health round while the Chambers are shot, and Trum­pets perpètually sound.

I solemnize it upon my knees.

Sir George.

So, this was well perform'd, about again with't.

Sir Charles.

Once more receive it Soldiers, and that done, let us retire unto our Garrison, believe me (George) we play with lightning too securely; you know I dare as much, as him dares most, but dare not to be too con­fidently rash.

Sir George.

By heaven (Sir Charles) we will not part so tamely; we'l have one Catch e're we forsake this ground, if you please but to ayde me with your voyce, (for't must be sung in parts) You (Soldiers) all joyne voices in the close, what saith Sir Charles?

Sir Charles.

You may command my suffrage (wor­thy Lisle) I know the Song you fancie; begin—


Sir George.
Plump cheek'd Bacchus, we to thee
Will yeild all honour, as befits,
For sure thou art a Deity
That canst refine the dullest wits,
The liquour of thy Vine
Is pretious and divine,
It makes even Cowards fight.
Sir Charles.
It prompts our tongues to talke,
Though not our feet to walke,
And dictates what to write.
Drinke then (Boyes) and drown all sorrow,
Who knows if we shall drink to morrow?
Sir George.
Even in the midst of danger
When safetie is a stranger
And no hope of reliefe,
Take a bowle full of Canary,
We of our woes grow weary,
And crie a figge for griefe.
Sir Charles.
Drinke each a hearty draught
Till by the braines y'are caught,
'Twill quite expell all humours;
Crie, God preserve the King,
And shield him with his wing;
And a—for the Roundheads rumors.

Drinke, &c.

Sir George.

Judge you Gentlemen, is not this better than to be alwaies moyling in Sand and Salt-peter, con­tinually imployed in raising Rampires, throwing up Sconces, and inventing Stratagems, to foile that Foe who feares to looke upon us? hath not this added to your former vigour? we must not alwaies fight, lest we become all but one wound; nor ever tipple, lest the Circaean liquor do metamorphose us into swinish shapes: he that's a true Soldier

Will undertake all horrors, for his chinke;
And no lesse venture, for a Wench and drinke.
Sir Charles.

This doctrine (my friend Lisle) is dan­gerous, yet too much preach'd and practis'd in all Ar­mies; Souldiers doe dim their glory, and detract from their owne worth that love to drinke and drab; he onely may be term'd truely valiant that can repulse and van­quish his own passions; but this Dish I perceive (my Sol­diers) is too much stuff'd with Sage, for you to palliate—I wonder Noble Capel stayes so long, I feare he hath in­gag'd [Page 19]himselfe too farre after the flying Foe; he knowes not which way back for to retreate.

Sir George.

He's an experienc'd Souldier, and so in­ur'd unto the severall Stratagems of warre, that 'twere a sinne Mars would severely plague, but for to doubt his fortune.

Sir Charles.

I would not be too confident, or too carelesse, Heavens bring him off with safety, and with honour—let's now re-enter our invincible Fort, and there consult for safety; we must expect the Rebels will once more make their approaches to our Walls (per­haps) with new Supplies; we will prepare a Tempest 'gainst they Storme.

But if great Jove remember whose we are,
His ponderous thunder will their Onset marre.
The end of the second Act.


Enter Cromwell, solus.

THus farre my policies run smooth and cur­rant, deep Rivers glide as silent as the night when shallow Brooks fall with a troubled noise; wherefore was Man created like the Gods, but that like them he should dispose his acts to the great dread of some, envie of others, easily deluded the King [Page 20]my Master, I have led on with hopes of re-establishment so long, that now He doubts my feign'd reallity; and a strong Partie in the Junto sit, who without me, are now in Treatie with Him, but I shall breake the necke of their Designe (perhaps) before they thinke it, the severall Commanders of the Army are now all of my Faction, while Fairfax (silly Foole) sits like a Statue, as if he nothing knew, or nothing durst, I have propo­sed unto the severall Officers to forsake the King, and yeild Him up (as one not fit to live) unto the block; I have informed them, (and it takes exceedingly, so for­ward are the Fooles to worke my ends and their owne certaine ruine) that the King is a Man of bloud, by no meanes to be trusted, being of a rigid and implacable Spirit, hating (even to the death) all have opposed Him, and that should He regaine his former Power, He quick­ly would make use on't to their ruine, that therefore they should make a retreat in time, nor yeild their necks unto a Tyrants mercy, that they having declar'd so highly for Him, might the more easily (by farre) entrap Him; nor was it a discredit so to doe, since in all Ages such a poli­tick course hath been thought just and safe: they (sna­red with my words) resolve to doe so, for to remove the King by violent death, and to set up a Military Power; now my plots worke, the Stage growes great with hor­ror, the English Monarchy growes sick to death, its very Basis hath an Ague-fit, which wil not cease to shake it, till it be Levell'd to the humble earth.

Mount, mount my thoughts, unite like scatter'd springs,
'Tis a strong Torrent that must beare downe Kings.

Here I appointed my deare Buffone Pe­ters,

Enter Peters, Bos­will, Pride, with Soldiers.

and Coll. Boswill, Pride, and my whole Army to meet about this houre— [Page 21]See, they come; Welcome deare Friends, you have ob­serv'd your time: My Hugh, how thrives our Counsell in the Army that our great Generall the Lord Fairfax guides? I am sure these gallant Soules serve under me are all unanimous to shake off Kings, and while the I­ron's hot to strike that blow which shall for ever free the English Nation from Tyrants, and their awfull power.


Heroick Sir, they all (even as one Man) ap­plaud even to the skies your rare projection, both Offi­cers and Souldiers covetous for to accomplish what's by you propos'd, and as a signall of their Resolutions, see here, the more part of a queint Remonstrance, which must by us be brought unto a period, wherein we will divulge unto the world, the reasons and grounds of our intents.


As I would wish, never till now could Eng­land hope a happinesse; why, how now Boswill, why art thou so sad? the noble Pride stands—like a man a­stonish'd, or like a marble Statue whose aged feet are wrapt in wither'd mosse, what's the matter?


Nothing (deare Sir) but an excessive joy which hath surpriz'd my faculties, and craz'd upon the organs of my speech, my mind is busied 'bout the Kingdomes fate, my Soule in a deep conference with my sense about mature affaires.


The constitution of my Soule agrees with thine in each degree of temper, (most honoured Crom­well) from our late-sworne Principles I'le not recede though Heaven rain'd down fire upon me, though Earth yawn'd wide, and Hell gorg'd balls of Sulphure, the King (that Man of bloud) shall lose His Head, and all His prime Adherents wait on Him unto the other world; the People we will Rule by the Sword's power, their [Page 22]lives and goods, (by Conquest) we have gain'd, our sway must be maintain'd by Strength, not Law.

The Sword that cut a passage to our Sphere
'Tis that alone must secure us there.

Oh let me put thee in my bosome (Boswill) henceforth let us converse more neerly, and like the Zo­diacks Gemini mix our loves, we'l be a second Pylades and Orestes, and never part till death (my Hugh) let's hear some part of that Remonstrance, 'twill highly spurre us on to action.


You shall, the most material Clauses (Sir) are these, which take with this exordium I penn'd late yester­night:

He Reads.
Absolute power of necessity must subsist and keep above water, though all else be assur'd of drowning, to the losse of all (or at least many) branches of universall Freedome, and therefore the Fox did not conclude amisse when he saw his fellowes steps march towards the Lyons Den, Nos vesti­gia terrent, if we enter into a strict scrutinie, we shall find that our choice and our nature gave us Kings, the dignity conferr'd upon a single Man, was (sure) intended for the good of all, but where one drawes from all, can that be plea­sing or fortunate? or to leave this one, can that be injury? and therefore in order theretowe declare, That we will call King CHARLES to an account as the prime Promoter, Abettor, and sole Occasioner of all the murthers, and out­rages, committed this many yeares, during the Warre, and bring Him to a Tryall for His life; That with Him we will bring to judgement all those of His Partie, who (in order to His Arbitrary Commands) have murthered, spoyled, and impoverished the Free-borne People of England—’

Hold, I have heard enough, why this is done to purpose, and shewes all gallantry did not die with [Page 23] Brutus and his Confederate Consulls; now Lawrell wreathes commixt with Myrtle branches shall deck our fortunate brows as the true Patriots of our native Coun­trey, (We'l give the whole world cause for to remember us) aside the ensuing Ages when they read our Acts shall blesse our memory with devout respect, but flying Phoe­bus now hath left our Hemisphere, black night hath now put on her ebbon robe and wrapt the Welkin in a sable shrowd, we must away now towards the frozen North, (my fellow Souldiers) we must direct our march to jerke the Scots back to their Sedgie Cottages; malevolent Sa­turne, oh be thou propitious, prosper thy Agent in his deeds of death,

Which are so grim and horrid, full of ire,
Some will suspect, the Devill, was my Sire.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Fairfax, Ireton, Rainsborow, cum aliis, as in a Tent, a Table, and Tapers.

How goes the night?


About the howre of twelve.


Now then, while all the worl'ds involv'd in silence, and man and beast takes their repose and rest, let us determine 'bout these captive Heroes, who, with this Towne of Colchester to morrow must yeild themselves unto our mercy.


Renowned Generall, under whose con­duct we have been fortunate and victorious, I need not now recite, since you well know what vast expence of bloud, of toyle, and treasure, we have been at since we besieg'd this Towne, the third part of our Army quite consum'd by the immured Enemies frequent Sallies, by our unfruitfull Onsets, and hard Duty, and how mercy­lesse [Page 24]they have shewn themselves to those (of ours) whom Fortune gave them Prisoners; all which considered, I doe give my vote (and justice speaks the same) that Ca­pel, Goring, Lucas, and stout Lisle, die without mercy, even that very day which we receive the Towne.


Which is to morrow.


The Law of Armes will not allow of that, they yeild themselves on Quarter, and for the Peers (I meane Goring and Capel) our power doth not extend to question them, they must be order'd as our States de­cree: the auncient onely Captaines of the world, Ha­nibal, Scipio, and Themistocles, esteem'd it farre more glorious, having conquer'd their proud Antagonists, to preserve their lives (given them as their boone) then to inflict an ugly censure on them: I love an Enemy that is truely valiant, these have exceeded story in their Acts,

And have repell'd a Siege, such as Breda
Never beheld, nor famous Ravena.

Then let them live to be a terror to us, and once more to ingage the Land in broyles, (know Sir) we are not safe whilst these subsist; and should your clement mind so sway your sense, as not to take their lives, who have sought ours, we shall have cause to dis­esteem your Person and your Power, as him, whose easie nature and sost temper is incompatible with our persons safety, our honour and repute:

Since, if by you, mercy to them is showne
You seek our ruine, and project your owne.



Though in a rough unpollish'd phrase (he ut­ters truth) most noble General, let not his seeming rude­nesse raise your anger, since time hath taught you he is truly faithfull, no lesse magnanimous in active war; Sir, it [Page 25]concernes you neerly not to permit your innate love to valour, so graile the wings of just deserved fury, you must not tollerate these men to escape with life:

For 'twill be thought if you remisly doe,
You love their actions, and applaud them too.

You then are Generals of the Hoste, not I; but be it as you councell, share you betwixt the brave Spirits of Two that (if Pithagor as transmigration were) would make a Thersites, or Thraso valiant, (Rainsborow) see them shot to death as Souldiers destin'd by fortune to a noble end; some two houres hence I shall expect to heare you say, they are dead.

My Soule (I feele) is wondrously perplext,
Who knowes but mine or your turne may be next?

He's much distemper'd, sure they have bought his mercy; how stoutly did he argue to preserve them, with what reluctancy, denounce their doome.


An ardent love to worth and honour moves him (without all doubt) to pitty their sad fate, for though mountaines may meet, and generate e're they, and we, enter firme union, yet we must needs acknowledge they are Men of most approved valour; but see the cheerfull Lady of the light appeares i'the Horizon deck'd in her saffron robe, having forsook old Tithons chill imbraces, she summons every young and sprightly Sol to wrap her in his odoriferous bosome—harke, they

A shout within.

shout; What may this portend?

[Enter a Souldier.]

What newes doth thy tongue labour with?


The Towne of Colchester is just now surren­dred unto the Generals hands, the Governour Sr Charles Lucas, his lov'd associate Sir George Lisle, with the L. Ca­pel, [Page 26]old Goring, and a number more of Gentlemen are cried up as Prisoners.


Be it thy charge forthwith to certifie Lu­cas and Lisle, that they prepare themselves two howers hence to travaile toward the Empire of the Skies, or to the shades of Dis, I meane, to die.


I shall, Sir.


Come Commissary, let's goe view the Towne to cheare our Friends, and doome our scornfull Foes:

It glads my Soule, and is the onely good
That I delight in, for to spill their bloud.
Exeunt ambo.
[Enter Sr. Ch: Lucas, & Sr. George Lisle, as in Prison.]
Sir Charles.

The iron hand of Jove lies heavy on us, (oh George) the proud Rebellious crew prevaile, Loyalty sinks with plumets at his heeles, while curst Rebellion rides on the Sun beams, justles Jove from his seat, and fathomes Clouds.

Sir George.

They may thanke that invincible Cham­pion, Hunger, had not he help'd, the Towne had yet been ours, the wofull cries of Women, and of Children imploring Bread to staunch their pining stomacks, their guts almost congeal'd to stone within them, their faces black with famine, stalking the streets like (magicke summon'd) Ghosts, together with our owne dire need, inforc'd us to surrender to those Rebels, but Joves dread vengeance (sure) will seize on them that mought (but would not) have prevented this; degenerate London, who hast shaken hands with thine Allegiance, thy aspi­ring Fabricks ere long must lie—What speaks thy haste?

[Enter a Souldier.]

From the Commanders, Col. Rainsborow, and Cōmissary Ireton, I have in trust to let you know, some minutes hence you are to die.

Sr Charls.

Oh perjur'd Miscreants! is this your mercy? this my prophetick Soule still whisper'd to me; I knew they in our blouds would bathe their guilt, and sacrifice our lives to their God Treason, these Victims befit Mo­lech, not Messiah, whom these professed Saints, but reall Devils, seem to make the umpire of their deeds.

Angry Rhamnusia, though we fall to dust,
Punish these Traytors, for their acts unjust.
Sir George.

Then 'tis decreed, we must take leave of day light, and tread the paths of immortality.

Jove, art thou just, hast thou reward for those
Who unto pious acts their lives difpose?
And hast thou lost thy vengeance, can it be
That these aspiring Titans, scape Scot-free?
Where are thy dire Cyclopean balles, the same
That mudling Mulciber, doth in Lemnos frame?
'Tis thy Olympick vigour can alone
Ding downe these Rebels unto Phlegeton.
[Enter three Souldiers armed.]

Ha, what are you?


Your Executioners.

Sir Charles.

You are our welcomest friends; who is allotted to make his exit first?

1. Sould.

Your selfe must lead the dance of death.

Sir Charles.

Here then I bid farewell, unto this Stage of misery, my life hath been but one continued Scene, wovenwith perturbations and anxieties—but stay, whither must now my fleeting Soul take wing? into you Starry mansion, or steep Tartarus, up to the Milkie way, she'l take her flight

[Page 28]
Where Soules of Heroes doe enjoy their blisse,
Where all Celestiall comforts, meet, and kisse;
Mankinds Redeemer, oh Emanuel!

Who in Mans shape on Earth were pleas'd to dwell, Receive my better part—are you prepar'd—


We are.

Sir Charles.

Charge me then home, I love to chew those Winter-plums, they are those Cordiall comfits I accept, as sick men do great Gallens Antidotes; methinks the Earth goes round Copernicus: thou didst relate a truth, that Tellus ever hath an Ague fit; Sol wrap thy glorious head within a Cloud, or if thou needs wilt view my Destinie, put on a maske of bloud, Death is but Som­nus Harbinger, we visit his all-peacefull Monarchy, e're we arive at Heavens golden gates, where such as knock with a religious hand, doe never misse of entrance; Let me imbrace thee (George) e're I part hence,

They imbrace.

Thou wilt not long survive me—Shoot, shoot.

Incomparable Strafford (see) I come
To wait on thee in blest Elizium.
They shoot.

So, you have done it bravely, you are good Marks-men, I applaud you for't even in Death—so many pas­sages are allow'd my Soule, she knowes not which to issue out at, this fabricke of my flesh now 'gins to totter, like to some City (for it's Peoples finnes) rock'd by the humerous winds; what a fierce combate is there now maintain'd betwixt my wounded heart & mighty Mors, who grasps it 'twixt his hands, squeezing it like a spunge; so furious Boreas smites the solid Oakes that on Mount Pelion grow, making them nod like unto feeble Reeds, (George) thy hand, my twins of light, have lost their wonted property, death with his icie-fingers seals them up: Farewell, great CHARLES, I die thy loyall Ser­vant. [Page 29] George, we shal meet some minutes hence (I doubt not) in a place where all joyes injoy one center; the worlds great Architectresse never saw two of her Sonnes murther'd so barbarously after faire Quarter promised:

Therefore great Jove, if thou lov'st loyall breath,
Take vengeance on the Authors of my death.
Sir George.

There crack'd the cords of life,

He dies.

Oh noble Lucas! let me breathe out my Soule,

Kisses him.

upon thy azure lips: so brave a compleat man no Mon­sters (these excepted) would have butcher'd; my turne is next, is it not?


It is.

Sir George.

Nor would I purchase life with one In­treaty, this object so inflames me I am growne weary of this fleshly weed, and faine would put it off, exchanging it for an immortall robe, invelloped with Carbuncles, and Saphires— I, but to have our live bereft by a sharp violent death to sleep in a thin shrowd, involv'd in feign'd earth, our Nerves and Arteries shrunke up like sing'd Lute-strings, or the wither'd Wreath of some fam'd Heroe, made away i'th' darke for to converse with Wormes, and half-form'd creatures, such as the slime of Seven headed Nile produceth by the aide of Phoebus beames: Oh! there's a contemplation that would stag­ger the most resolved Spirit, but destiny must be obey'd, Death is still death though diversly inflicted: to have ones Throat sluc'd with a golden Knife, or to be thrust through with a silver Sword, mitigates not the wound, more than the sufferance. But, oh ye vengefull Furies of darke Hell! ye three-fell Sisters of steep Erebus, aw­full Aenyo, all ye dreaded Hags ominous to mortalls, forsake your black Cimerian Cells, and with your steely Whips ascend the Earth, Lash, lash these Traytours to [Page 30]despaire and obloquie; Let strife, contention, fraud, guile and deep horror seize on great CHARLES his Foes, seve­ring their strength, and frustrating their hopes till they sinke lower, underneath their Treasons, then plumets cast into the Baltick Sea: Now doe your office,

They shoot.

I am prepar'd; Oh! you have put Balls of wild-fire in my Bowels, I am but all one Aetna; Farewell, base gloomie world, in which deluded Man, ravish'd with toyes, hunts after bubbles; till them he breake and va­nisheth as he had never been, I sinke beneath the burthen of my owne weight, would with my fall, the Machinie of the world might be unriveted and shooke to pieces, the Ayre, cōmixt with Earth, the humid with the tumid Element, and active fire contesting gainst them both, re­ducing all to the Originall Chaos; but I contend in vaine, the Gods created Man but for their sport, and its fit I should fulfill their ends, wishing but not prevailing; I spie the pure immaculate Soule of Lucas, travailing through the Ayre to find a residence: Stay gentle Spi­rit, company is good, when tedious journies are pre­scribed, we'l both fix in one Sphere, when looking downe, we will behold and smile,

To see these seeming Saints, but reall Friends
Fall by their devilishly devised ends.
He dies.
1. Souldier.

The Traytors both are dead.

2. Souldier.

Traytors, those are Traytors, whose most rigorous doome, we have obey'd, in murthering these brave Men.

3. Souldier.

How's this? let's seize upon him.

1. Souldier.

Doe, and make hast to most assur'd dam­nation.

2. Souldier.

I am no longer of your base so­cietie;


Heaven pardon what is past, my future deeds [Page 31]shall amply expiate my former crimes, the bloud of noble Lucas and brave Lifle,

On Rainsborow's base head, I will requite,
And send his Soule unto eternall night.
1. Souldier.

Let us remove the Bodies, and make af­ter him.

Exeunt, bearing the Bodies.
The end of the third Act.


[Enter Peters with Mrs Lambert.]

THis he impos'd as a command, it hath not been my practice to solicite in causes of this kind for other men.

Mrs. Lambert.

Too soon you have made triall of your skill; doth your grave habit suite with such course im­ployment, reverend Sir?


Faith Mistresse, amongst Friends, the outward garbe ought not to cause a nicety; He is my honoured Patron, tooke me halfe frozen from the foodfull Earth, and warm'd me in his bosome; and 'twere a dull ingra­titude in me not to reward his bounty with my service: the radiant lustre of your Star-like eyes makes him to bow as your obsequious Vassall, whom thousands count it honour to obey; so great an influence hath your ex­cellent beauty upon his manly faculties: He's now re­turn'd, deck'd with triumphant Wreaths, from chasing the Blew Bonnets to their Mountaines, having taught [Page 32]that stubborne People, his Name can make the Genius of their Country tremble, the politick Hamilton is his Prisoner, all knees bow to him, as Great Caesars Rivall; nothing doth want for to compleat his Conquest, but your assent to love him.

Mrs. Lambert.

Why so I doe, and all Men else that doe retaine his temper.


Your love admits of a too vast extent, I mean, can you affect him so, as to admit him to your Bed?

Mrs Lambert.

St Winifrid forbid it; you know (Sir) that I have a Lord and Husband, a Man made up of magnanimity, whose love is mixt with an indulgent care, should he but doubt of such an Injury, your Master, I my selfe, and all by him suspected, had better enter a Phalarian Bull, or stand the thunders shock— alas! I dare not.


These are but Womanish feares, incident unto all your Sex; come, you must yeild to love him, how should your Husband know of your day Banquets, your nightly Revels, and sweet Paphian sports? he's now in Lancashire, Disbanding Troups of Horse: or should some wayward Feind convey the knowledge of your stolne Imbraces unto his jealous eare, my Masters great­nesse countermands his furie, circled within his armes, should heaven, earth, and hell conspire to wrong you, 'twere sinne to doubt a danger: Consider (Lady) what a potent Friend, what treasure, honour, and content you'l gaine (if mundane glories doe affect you) by yeilding love for love to him, whom other Dames of highest bloud and fortune would sue for such a favour.

Mrs Lambert.

Although my inward thoughts doe tax my levitie, yet won with your most sugred eloquence; I here yeild all of mine, Lambert calls his, unto your Ma­sters bosome.


I accept it (Lady) nor

Enter Cromwell, having been seen to peep through the hang­ings, during the Colloquie 'twixt Pet. & Mrs. Lambert

shall my most delicious Parragon ever have cause for to repent her favour, my selfe, my Sword, all under my Command, the spoiles of Nations, all that Earth can boast, shall at thy becke be prov'd for to be summon'd (Popea-like) bathe thou thy delicate body in Asses milke, commixt with Almond flower, (with Cleopatra) dissolve inesti­mable precious Stones in every glasse of luscious Wine thou drink'st, tread thou on Tyrian Silks and Ermins skins, let Art and Nature both industriously conspire to sate thy lavish wishes, my Treasurie is inexhaustible; Three Kingdomes (Deare) I graspe thus— in this palme, their Riches and their glories all are mine, the Goddess of the world my Patroness Fortune hath given all into my hands; as for the Man (they call the KING) He hath not foure and twenty howers to live, I've hyr'd a dapper Lad, a neat-tongu'd (but inexorable Fellow) for fifteene hundred pounds, to ease Him of the burthen of His cares, (good King, he's fitter farre for to converse with Saints and Seraphims, than with erronious and am­bitious Mortalls, and 'twere a sinne (a grand one) for to deterre the hopes Celestialls have for to enjoy His pre­sence) my Bradshaws braines doe brood, and hath dis­cover'd a line of Law that never yet was talkt on, which saith, If Kings doe not obey their Subjects, they may chastise them with Imprisonment, Banishment, or Death; with him a Crew (whom I have eke in pay) doe fit as Judges to make good this Maxime: my Bradshaw is growne proud of his great Office, I've Order'd him for to be cloathed in Purple, all Heads for to stand bare on every shoulder when the Lord President (for so I have created him) shall be in presence, his Co-adjutors all [Page 34]have honour too; and when assembled, have no worse a title then the High Court of Justice: these all are sworne for to fulfill my ends, and Doome their KING to die; which once perform'd, then I am Lord alone, though not a King by Title, yet by Power, and thou (my Dea­rest) shalt share glories with me, thy lovely browes deckt with a Coronet of Ophir Gold, inchas'd with Onix Stones; nor doe thou dread thy Husbands anger, his open violence, or his clandestine plots, he is my Vassell meerly at my pleasure; and if I heare he but repines at our Imbraces, I'le spurne his Soule out with my foot. (My Hugh) this businesse was well manag'd, thou art a fluent Orator, when Cypryan Venus, and her wing'd Sonne, waits at thy elbow, this service hath oblig'd me more unto thee then all thy former industries.


I am your humblest Creature.


But why (my dearest Mistresse) is that face of yours (which even the Gods gaze at with greedy long­ing) obscur'd with sullen mists? what sorrow claimes a superiority o're your harmonious senses? oh let not care plow furrowes in that forehead! is (now) more smooth than polish'd Ivory, or the true Turtles feather; give but your grief a name, and if it lie in humane power to ease you, resolve, a speedy and a pleasing remedy hasts to your comfort.

Mrs Lambert.

Sir, can you thinke my heart is so ob­durate? or that I can so soone be lost unto a feminine temper, as not to cogitate with what hasty rashnesse I have extinguisht Hymens Tapers, which (some howers since) rivald Sols beames in lustre, with what a forward zeale I have infring'd my Marriage Vow, and given a­way that which is none of mine? oh Heaven!


'sfoot Sir, she's falne into a relapse; kisse her [Page 35]Sir, (quickly) or shee'l coole so fast, and her heart freeze into so hard a lumpe, not all your future Courtship or activity, shall be of force to melt her to your wishes.


How stupid am I in these amorous Arts deare Mistresse! let not penitentiall fancies (the spurious issues of dull Melancholly) gaine the least power over your fa­culties: what can you feare, while I dare be your friend? think on the glories that I late proposed; all which shall be made yours, with eminent safety.

Mrs Lambert.

I shall endeavour, Sir, to beare my selfe as her that loves and honours you.


Now thou sing'st sweetly, in a farre more melifluous tone than Quires of Nightingals, and that this temper never may forsake thee, our time we'l spend in various delights, such as Caligula, were he againe on earth would covet to enjoy; enter ye six prime West­minsterian Senators:

Musick, strike hie, our Spirits to advance,
While we doe mingle in an active Dance.
Enter six Masquers, habited for ambition, trea­son, lust, revenge, perjury, sacriledge, musick; they daunce with them, joyne Cromwell and Mistresse Lambert, Peters singing out last, they daunce together by themselves.


Let these joyes ever be in prime,
Nought but virtue is a crime;
Maugre the wise,
Meane men must rise,
Every Olympiad of time.
[Page 36]
Taste then boldly, terrene pleasures,
Yours is the Earth, and all its Treasures;
Rifle, Plunder,
And keep all under,
Let Murmurers waite your leisures.
Exeunt Masquers.

This was perform'd as I would wish, now Sweet let's in for to compleat our happinesse, and taste those joyes which Jove himselfe will envie, knowing Agenors Daughter, or Calisto, Inachian Io, or his blasted Semele, were not indu'd with beauty so immense as thee (my dearest happinesse)

Set on unto the Chamber of delight,
Doe not dream (Lambert) thou art horn'd to night.
[Enter Fairfax, Ireton, Rainsborow. &c.]

I need not advertise you Col. Rainsborow, not to be implacably severe, against the refractory Chom­ley; or when you are sate downe before that most im­pregnable Pontefract. Castle to storme more oft than faire advantages calls you to action: Mars go along with you, I am for London with my Prisoners.


My Lord, your humble Servant, victory and triumph ever waite upon you.


Farewell noble Colonel.


Adieu, sweet Commissary,

Exeunt Fairfax and Ireton.

Alone, and in all haste to take my journey, to so remote an Angle of the Land, there to take charge of those I never saw, discard their Generall, and make my selfe their Leader, this is a strange injunction, but I must doe it:

[Enter his Servant]

Hast thou delivered what I gave in charge?


I have Sir; he will not faile punctually to [Page 37]performe it, and sent you, the true and exact relation (as neer as he can gather) who were the prime Promoters (of your unlookt-for) Journey.


Let's to Horse, I'le ride twelve miles this night, they shall have no cause to blame my tardinesse, away.

Enter Blackburne (being the Souldier that esca­ped from amongst the Fairfaxians, with an in­tent to kill Rainsborow, Act. 3.) with him, three Souldiers, their Pistols and Swords.

Hist, this way the Villaine posted, onely his Man and he together; I hope the divine justice will not suffer him, for to escape our hands; that way, that way,

[Enter Rainsborow and his Servant.]

We have quite lost the beaten roade—there let our Horses grase awhile; I feele strange thoughts fighting about my heart, either my guilty fancy did de­lude me, or I beheld the Ghosts of Lucas and of Lisle, all full of wounds staring just now upon me, there, there, dost thou see nothing?


Not I Sir; good Sir let us forsake this gloomie glade, it presents horror, and besides the night is neer halfe spent.


A grim, but supine terror clogs my soule; Morpheus with's leaden Mace arrests my senses, I needs must sleep awhile.

Lies downe.
[Enter Blackburne, and his Mates.]

Kind Fates, I thank you; this is that cruell Ty­ger (my Fellowes) who contriv'd the much lamented deaths of generous Lucas, and the valiant Lisle.


Ha, who sent thee hither?

He rises up.

Thy sinnes; I come to kill thee.


It is no easie taske that thou hast undertaken, I have an arme as vigorous as thine, a Pistoll that will lighten e're it thunders, a Sword too that ne'r yet for­sooke his Master in time of danger.


If thou but call to mind thy damned Treasons, thy Charnell plots, and vile Conspiracies, thy murthers, rapines, and fell outrages, a Child of seven yeares old may quell thy force and lead thee captive in a string; if thou dar'st thinke thy numerous crimes have not barr'd up the dore of Heav'n 'gainst thee, pray be but speedy in thy orisons, I have no mind to kill thy Soule.


Saucie Slave, thinke on thy owne sad end; and either at my feet implore remission of thy rash attempt, or thou art dead.


So brave, have at you Sir.


This is honour beyond

They charge with their Pi­stols, Rainsborow's Man falls; also one of Black­burne's Confederates.

thought to fall, or to survive my Ma­sters second.


Come on, Sir.


Though thou hast scap'd my scalding lead, my cooler steele shall find a passage to thy heart.

They sight.

Thou art not (sure) invulnerable, even Thetis Sonne was slaine by Phrigian Paris— but, oh my guilt hangs heavie on my Arme! and impedes the vio­lence of my blowes—there.

They sight.

Will you not sink, or have you many Souls that take their reigne by turnes? if it be so, I have so good a Cause I cannot shrinke beneath the Trenchant blade, till by my single force, I have dismiss'd them all; there Dogge—


Injurious Destinies, have you inrich'd my fame with many victories over whole Troups of men, for to permit my fall in the Catastrophe, by a most despicable [Page 39]Knapsack-bearer, why carves my flesh as Butchers doe their meat, and bores me till I grow transparent— Oh! my bloud drils like to some prodigall spout which Huswifes set a tilt to cleanse their linnen— but, shall I fall without revenge—

He falls.

Oh! are you measuring out your length in clay? Ye Twins of valour Lucas and brave Lisle,

Your heads, up from your earthly pillowes reare,
And see your Murtherer lie weltering here.

My spirit's faint, my heart is sick to death, I hold the panting lumpe betwixt my teeth, But 'twill not brooke to stay; Let all those that have sought their Soveraignes ruine looke upon me and my deserved de­stiny, I would invoke the powers above, but them I have so much exasperated, they'l stop their eares to my com­plaints: Oh! I die—

Thou King of flames, let me in Sulphure swim
Neare to that Caudron, holds my Patron, Pim.
He dies.

Oh dire and dreadfull end! he's gone to his owne home, (the cursed Dungeon) with as much willingnesse as holy Anchorites surrender their white Soules to holy Angels, his Body we will throw in yon­der ditch for Beasts and Birds, to prey on:

They remove him.

I have some wounds, but none (I think) are mortall. Come, fellow Souldier, let us hast to shelter, this deed, when once divulg'd, will be examin'd strictly—

Beyond the Seas, for safety I will flie,
Till England once more be a Monarchie.
The end of the fourth Act.


[Ent. Cromwell with Mrs Lambert, in their night Robes.]

APollo is too hasty in his rise, and emulates my happinesse; had Jupiter injoy'd so rare a Creature as thy selfe (my Deare) in his lascivious armes, he would have charm'd bright Phoebus to the East, and have united day & night in one, as when he revell'd 'twixt Amphitrios sheets; how likes my love of her new Bed-fellow?

Mrs Lambert.

You are as valiant Sir, in those soft skir­mishes Venus expects in her pavillion, as in those deeds of death Mars doth approve of in his Tent of Warre.

[Enter Peters.]

Good morrow to the most renowned Cromwell, & his most excellent Mistresse; Sir, I this morning have receiv'd a Letter directed unto you, I thinke it comes from Commissary Ireton.


Some newes of more than ordinary conse­quence if it beare date from him:

He opens and reads the Letter.
Lieutenant Generall,

THe deed is done, (which either ever makes, or marres us all) the King (according to the doome of our High Court of Justice) this morning lost His Head, thousands of people being Spectators of His Tragedy; His Body we have given to the Duke of Richmond, to be dispos'd of as he thinks fit: the Vulgar (generally) are much inraged at it, [Page 41]and say (having proceeded so farre in our Treasons against him, that we despaired of pardon to preserve our own lives, and to make our selves Master over them) we have mur­thered the most virtuous Prince in Europe at his owne dore, but we shall muzell the mouthes of that many-headed Hydra ere it be long; and in the meane time must resolve to keep what we have got by fraud and force, by oppression and vio­lence: we have Outlawed the Eldest and Second Sonne of the dead King, and proclaimed, That if ever they be taken on English ground, they shall die without mercy: we are now modelizing the Common-wealth, in the prosecution of which, both Souldiers and Senators, desire your aide; this I was commanded to certifie you: and had I not been com­manded, it had been done of his owne accord by

Your assured Friend to serve you, IRETON.

Then now I am above the reach of fate, prepare (my Hugh) though not to be a Bishop, yet to dispose of a whole Diocesse: you Lady (the sole Mistresse of my hopes) are yet untainted in your Husbands thoughts, let him againe repose his horned head betwixt your deli­cate paps, I must with speed to London, whence I will send thee thy lap-full of Gold (my Danae) and Jewels rich and sparkling, for to adorne thy onely eminent beauty; nor shalt be long ere I in person visit thee.

Mrs Lambert.

Sir, you have robb'd me both of ho­nour, and my heart at once; so strange a Fate doth sway me, that whatsoe're you judge to be convenient, I must not contradict.


Thou art as wise as beautious, rest confident of my fidelity, Farewell Star of the North.

Kisses her, she goes off.
[Page 42]
Come (Hugh) lets poste unto the famous Cittie
To sit in Councell with the State Committee.
[Enter Chorus.]
Now all is lost to humane sense,
The King is murther'd on pretence
He was a Tyrant, and in Him
Our Lawes and Rights to laethe swim,
Buried forever in His death,
Since they subsisted by His Breath,
1. See here, what would make Indians weep,
These 14 Ver­see are spoken wholly in re­lation to the Kings Mur­ther.
2. And force the Monsters of the deep;
3. Shed teares into the brinie maine,
4. And after drinke them up againe;
5. That which forc'd Sol to hide his head
6. Pierc'd into Graves, and wak'd the dead;
He discovers be­hind the travers the dead body of the King; also the Bodies of the Lord Capel, Hamilton & Holland.
7. And that which made the Angels hide
8. Their faces (deep in scarlet di'de)
9. With their soft wings, and doth compell
10. The Catholick to turne Infidel,
11. And to believe Presbyter Johns,
12. And strictest Solifidians,
13. Are damn'd (even from their Cradle) since
14. They murther'd so divine a Prince.
This body, when possest of life
Pointing to Hamilton.
Was the sole Causer of the strife
And breach (which so our Land hath rent)
Betwixt the King and Parliament;
'Twas he, that by his Hell-bred plots
decoyd the King amongst the Scots;
Yet afterward (his owne to hold)
Sold Him to Traytors for their Gold;
All this in hopes to win that Crowne,
Desire of which, hath brought him downe
Unto the earth, slaine (even by them)
From whom he hop'd a Diadem;
His Soule the Furies meane to ply
With tortures to eternity.
This Body when it us'd to walke,
Pointing to Holland.
Knew better how to Drab and talke,
To weare gay Cloathes, and Complement,
Then to be wisely eminent;
For loyalty unto his King
His folly not, his faith did bring
Him to the Block. But here lies one,
Pointing to the L. Capel.
The glory of his Nation,
A man for valour, virtue, wit,
Who learning lov'd, and cherisht it
Without compare; his Charity
Extended unto each degree,
Ages and Sex, (had they no more
But this one Devilish Act in store
Of murthering him) the Rebels (sure)
Could not, yet eight yeare more procure,
To Reigne by bloud, by rapines, horrors,
Treason, inexplicable terrors;
But what the Fates allot we must
Submit to, and in them we trust
To see these Monsters fall and rot,
By God and virtuous men forgot.

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