A SPEECH TO THE Lord General Monck AT SKINNER SHALL April the fourth, 1660.
A Countryman-Cornish strives to come in, and is Obstructed by one of the Company.
Cornish-man.
CHe tell thee, Che will come in, and zee the gay volk; ch'ave zome loquent Pistle to speak.
Fidler.
Thou a Speech!
Cornish-man.
A zimple Trifle, better then your Zongs and Zonnets, Chill zay that, and a vart vort. Iche beseech your Lordships Pardon; this zame Vellow is zawcy, Iche a tolden zo zundry times.
And vor Iche know by sperience.
Vine volk will a vine things and zense,
Chill zee what Iche can do▪
Chintend to let your Honour know,
Bum Vaith, Iche will no vurther go,
Chill now speak English too.
MY
Lord, I have receiv'd Command from those
I this day do attend upon, to close
Your Stomach with a Welcome.
Ed. 3. R. 1. H. 4. H 5. H. 6. Ed. 4 &c. made free of the Company.
'Thas been longSince that this Hall was grac'd with such a throng
Kings, heretofore, have not disdain'd to be
Made Free of this Ancient Fraternity:
'Tell that this most Unhappy Nation did
Break forth into a Flame, from Fire long hid,
Kindl'd by th' Sulpherous breath of furious
Johns,
And Subjects became desp'rate
Phaetons:
Whose dire Prodigious Rage, like
Pelops brood,
Thirsted and hunted after Royal blood.
The Peoples Faith abus'd, who onely lent
Their Aid to j
[...]yn the King and Parliament:
In stead of which, the Miscreants subtilty
Laid violent hands on Sacred Majesty,
I
[...]ea
[...]y at the Isle of Wight
Ev'n when it came to the* Concluding point,
They did our Hope and Happiness disjoynt.
"We finde our Fundamentals then begin
"To stagger, when King-killing's thought no Sin,
Nor was their Monstrous Malice satisfy'd
When as the Peoples Martyr, Great
Charles, dy'd;
From whence (unto their horror) this Truth springs,
"
The worst of Subjects
kill'd the best of Kings.
Thus were we drawn near to destruction
By that White Devil, feign'd Devotion;
That Loyalty was held Malignity,
And pure Religion counted Heresie;
And
Parliaments, we did so highly prize,
Made but the subject for their Mockeries.
So that this forlorn hapless Continent,
Hath been the Sepulchre of Government:
Since
Charles he suffer'd, no man durst complain,
But held it mercy that he might be slain.
It was a riddance from that Slavery
Attended on a Tyrants Cruelty;
Whose Usurpations left us with the Wind,
Though (like the Snail) h'as left a slime behind.
Kings were held
Nursing Fathers: Great Sir, then
Grant us to see those Blessings once agen.
Next unto God, the Power is in your hand,
To make this Fertile, or a Barren Land.
The old
Arcadians, that did mourn all Night
At the Suns-setting, and dispair'd of Light,
Were next day comforted, when in his Sphere
He on his splendid Chariot did appear:
So Our great Loss admits of a Repair,
In the succeeding hopes of
Charles his Heir;
That all men cry, and all Cries meet in one,
For th'Pious Father's God-like Patient Son.
London, Printed for John Towers 1660.