A CURSE Against Parliament-Ale.
With a Blessing to the JƲNCTO; a Thanksgiving to the Councel of STATE; and a Psalm to OLIVER.
Tom Randal did once, in a merry Tale,
Write the Commendations of a Pot of Good Ale:
Revealing what Cures, and Griefs it did ease,
And all sorts of People comfort and please:
But now our Damn'd Juncto, to adde Sorrow to Grief,
Have Robbed us all, of our best Relief:
That Causes my Muse at the Rebels to Raile,
That Eight Yeers have Sate, to Reform our Ale.
We praying this Curse may soon on them fall,
Their Wives, and their Children; A pox take them all.
NOD-NOL: Printed for the good of the State. 1649.
A CURSE Against Parliament-Ale.
BAse Miscreants, Rebells, could ye not invent
Some other Plague in your damn'd PARLIAMENT
To vex good-fellows, but you must put down
Strong-Ale, the chief upholder of the Crown?
Sure, sure you fear'd (since you have mischief wrought)
That we should curse you every Mornings draught;
Talk of your usurp'd Power, and in conclusion
Turn off a Double Pott to your confusion.
What made ye else to Act against our good,
And put down ALE, the nourisher of blood?
Alas, I knew your hellish PLOTT before,
'Cause you shed blood, you'd have us breed no more.
Or does your tainted souls in reason think
'Cause we want Meat, to keep us from our Drink:
Now against winter too, in snow and Frost,
Basely to rob us of our POTT and TOST!
The ancient DRINK of England to forbid!
The cursedst Act the Juncto ever did:
'Twas all our TRADING now, to tell a Tale,
And repeat wrongs over a Pott of ALE:
Tell the sad Story of Good CHARLES his Fate,
How you have Reform'd Monarchy to State:
How fruitfull since your time the Church is grown,
That hath a Thousand Heresyes for one.
What Acts and Laws ye make; and what observe,
What ye have done: and what your Deeds deserve;
What Rule ye Rule by; By what Pow'r ye sway,
And seek our good, the clean contrary way;
[...] by Oppressing you doe ease oppression,
And of the Deadly sins Vote no Transgression.
How you doe thrive by Theft, and live by murder;
Goe on in Fraud, till you can goe no further;
And when on top of all your haughty pride
Make your selves Saints by acting Regicide.
With such Discourse the time we did beguile,
Whilst every one club'd round his Pott the while,
To season grief, and banish base dispaire,
And ease our mindes of Poverty and Care.
But since Strong ALE is now departed hence,
Thus will we CURSE his Small-beer Excellence.
The Juncto, Army, that procure our woe,
My Curse light on them, and the Peoples too.
A Blessing to the Juncto.
MAY Tom of the North, with Pryde and his froath, his Yest-Tubb, Hoggs-heads, Barrel;
be filled with Small-Beer, that never yet was Cleer, that the Rebels may drink till they Quarrel.
May Noll Cromwels Grace, with his Copper in his Face, drink what a Bogge invites him:
let his Nose stick in Mudde, as his hands are brew'd in Bloud, and a guilty Conscience affright him.
May his Life-guard Conspire, and his Nose loose the fire, Strong-Ale at first infused:
may he all Curses have, till he comes to his Grave, that hath a whole Kingdom abused.
May Ireton that Rebel, march quickly to Hell, and for Thirst like Dives complain:
may Noll and he, and all their Progeny, never drink strong-Ale again.
May perpetual Thirst, make them al still Accurst, in hunger let them pine:
and never let them drink, but water that doth stink, or the dreggs of some poysonous Wine.
May their Food be Hopps and Grayns, and all end their Reigns, at Tyburn take their Degrees:
like to Absalom, let them come still short home, and end all their lives on Trees.
Let Bradshaw take a Bribe, to betray all the Tribe, as he hath done his King:
and after he hath done, into Perdition run, and end his life with a Swing.
Let Sir Harry Mildmay; like Iudas betray; their Cause in his whimsy-fitt:
and when with his Maid, he hath often plaid, be tane in the Gravel-pitt.
Let Steel, Cooke, and Wylde, that have so often beguild, the Kingdom of their Right:
do Justice at last, and all the Rebels Cast, that against their Soveraign fight.
Let Pryde with his Sling, that Reigns like a King, be sod in his own Fatt:
his Children and Wife, live at variance and strife, and his Cattel die all of the Rott.
Let Hewson fight his Last, and in his Ends be still crost, with clean and pleasant weather:
may his Knife and Threads break, and his Soul spring a leak, and his skin be tan'd to make Leather.
May Whitlock have his Due, that yet was never True, to Gospel, Law, or Reason:
and when he doth depart, I wish with all my heart, he may Suffer for High Treason.
May Martin and his Punk, be every day Drunk, until a Surfeit speed them:
and when they be poor, run still on the Score, and the Chyrurgion deny to Bleed them.
May Peters Preach and Fight, and in Sedition delight, till his Tongue do set all on Fire:
and in the conclusion, some sudden Confusion, frustrate the Rebels desire.
May Corbet the Jew, that yet was never true, be stoned through Loathbury:
and like Doctor Lambe, be sent from whence he came, or be Chained in Charons Ferry.
May Okey and his Rout, of Dragoons face about, and once again brew Small-Beer:
may they wait for the Day, and alwayes miss their Pay, or be Rowted twice in a yeer.
May Lenthall that Athiest, turn Alcymist, and Cheat the State of their Coyn:
that he may Buy Land, and Cole have Command, of all he doth Purloyn.
May Whalley and Rich, and Barksteed and such, base scums, as Deshury, Sanders:
when these Wars do cease, and once we have a Peace, be hang'd for High-way-standers.
May Lilburn from the Tower, overthrow all their Power, and his
Levellers Rise and prevaile:
may they hang up Committees, that undo Towns and Cities, and lay all Excize-men in Jayle.
May the old doting Mayor, fall into Dispair, and the wise Aldermen of the City:
like Perjur'd Elves, fall mad and hang themselves, and their Case let no man pitty.
May the Common-Councel sit, without Money or Wit, to Raise a new Sum for the Army:
then let Noll Return, and your City Sack and Burn, and the Juncto the whilst dis-arm yee.
May Alderman Byde, get the uper hand of Pryde, and Scarlet still adorn him:
and when he doth fail, to Brew more Strong Ale, pray Vulcan his Wife may Horn him.
May all Countries Rise, and Pay no Excize, till King CHARLES be set on His Throne:
may they Raise new Force, of Money, Men, and Horse, and seek to secure their own.
May their Navie all Sail, by some unlucky Gale, to Dunkirk or Oastend:
when their Saylors be drunk, let their Ships be all sunk, and their Piracy come to an end.
May the Blood they have shed, and their King Murdered, aloud for vengeance Cry:
till the Heavens do send, some Plague for their end, that have destroyed Monarchy.
May the Church-Lands, lie still on their Hands, and he be Curs'd that Buys them:
'gainst the will of the Dead, when themselves are Buried, just Heaven will sure deny them.
May all the Kings Goods, His Parks, Chases, Woods, His Children now distressed:
be delivered from their Paws, that will observe no Laws, and the People that do it Blessed.
May their several Vows, that no breaking allows, their Oaths and Perjuries:
besides their murder and stealth, and the wronged Common-wealth, procure their Miseries.
May their Pitts, Nets, and Traps, made for others Mishaps, procure their sudden woe:
and when they be Dead, lie Unburied, and their Souls to the Devil go.
May their Wives turn all Jades, and live on their Trades, and their Children be marked like Cain:
may they never have a day, of Comfort or Joy, till CHARLS the Second do Reign.
Amen.
A Thanks-giving to the Army.
MOst Powerful, and Puissant Conquerers, that by your Might in Wickedness, have overcome and cut off our [Page 7]most Rightful and Gracious King, subdued our Laws, filled our Land with Schisme, Heresie, Prophanness, Murders, Lies, Robberies, &c. We bless you, we magnifie you, we adore you, and acknowledge all we have to be at the mercy of your Swords, from this time forward, Parliament everlasting, world without end. Amen.
To the Councel of State.
MAy it please you Right Horrible, Damnable, &c. The taking down the Councel-Board, Star-chamber, and High-Commission, was because they were Tyrannical, and Obnoxious to the good and well-being of the people; And finding you to be more Tyrannical and Wicked then ever those Courts were, We desire to know from whence you derive your Power; And are Resolved (God willing) to Down with you next, notwithstanding your immuring your selves in White-hall, placing a Guard upon you, till you Commit wickedness with a high hand.
Let Juncto, Army, Devil, do what they can,
Your Ends shall be like Buckingham and Lambe.
A Hymne to CROMWEL.
To the Tune of, Let Cromwels Nose alone.
SING old Noll the Brewer, sing old Noll the Brewer,
With his Copper-face, and Ruby-Nose, now is Routed sure:
Let Cromwels nose still reign, let Cromwels nose still reign,
Tis no disgrace to his Copper-face, to Brew strong Ale again.
Tredagh he took by Storm, and there he got much Riches;
But Ards and Inchiquin, has made him wrong his Breeches.
Let Cromwels Nose still Reign, &c.
Trim and Dundalk was quit, and Noll did forward go,
Before he at Killkenny came, A lack and alasse for wo.
Let Cromwels Nose still reign, let Cromwels Nose still reign,
Tis no disgrace to his Copper-face, to Brew strong Ale again.
Ormond with Irish stout, did Charge him in the Van,
And gave him there a Rowt, that kill'd both Horse and Man.
Let Cromwels Nose still Reign, &c.
Tredagh is now Regain'd, the Mount was never tane,
Most People now do think, that he will end his Reign.
Let Cromwels Nose still reign, &c.
Hugh Peters lay for dead, and said he was not well,
One striping him, he said, He new came out of Hell.
Let Cromwels Nose still reign, &c.
Ireton was found dead, Jones had his deadly-blow,
Which made the Ely Bull to Roar, Bellow, and Loe.
Let Cromwels Nose still reign, &c.
Sure Lilly was a Witch, that did perswade his stay,
But he without his Breech, to Ireland would away.
Let Cromwels Nose still reign, &c.
Now they have hem'd him up, within a Castle sure,
The Iuncto little think, what's Lordship doth endure.
Let Cromwells nose still reign, &c.
They now doe say the Lawrd, did their great Cause betray
And sent them all to heaven —the clean contrary way.
Let Cromwells nose still reign, &c.
Thus every Tyrant thrives, and every Traytor shall
Ayming to reach a Crowne, into Perdition fall.
Let Cromwells Nose still reign, let Cromwels Nose still reign,
Tis no disgrace to his Copper-face, to Brew strong Ale again.
FINIS.