A SALT TEARE: OR, The VVeeping Onion, AT THE Lamentable Funerall of Dr. DORISLAUS.
WHat though
Lamented? Curs'd; & the High Tree
Of Fifty Cubits was
Just Destiny
(Though a
Deplor'd one) of that
Agent drew
The
Articles against the Holy Jew,
Good
Mordicai; which by queint-curious Art,
Should have contriv'd the
Queen Her share oth' smart.
But
Providence said, No; And HESTER taught,
Proud HAMAN to a Bloody Banquet brought.
Our upstart
Hamans had a
Feast: Who'll bring
Them, for Digestions fake, to take a swing.
2.
DORISLAUS! Art' Lamented? So was Hee
Who was more
Dives▪ then the
State made thee.
If thou chance meet with Him; Lift up thine eyes,
And see where CHARLES in
Abrahams bosome lies.
O for a Messenger the House to tell
And all the merry Commoners, of Hell.
How LENTHAL looks! How WHITLOCK pales his face,
Who caught one
Seale, and lost that
Seale of
Grace!
O how damn'd BRADSHAW quivers as he comes!
And FAIRFAX groanes! And CRUMWELL bites his thumbs!
3
Egypt, no doubt, was hid in
double blacke,
When that last Wonder, and grand
Land-Sea wrack
Was powr'd on
Pharao and his Host; when
Waves
Reveng'd the Insolence of Murderous
Slaves,
Pharao must drown; so it doth Providence Please.
We have a MOSES too, is
Heire oth' Seas
Heavens will a Party in that Element make:
Your KING-SALE Projects doe not alwayes take.
4
The Wife of SISERA did no doubt bewaile,
Sisera's Face; yet the
Canoniz'd Nayle
And
Hammer of stout
Jael and the
Song
Of
Deborah shew'd Heaven smil'd, and went along.
A
Kenite did the fact: it was not Lot
For Perjur'd
English, But a gallant
Scot.
'Tis a good Omen: That, as
They Pul'd down
The FIRST, they shal set on the SECOND'S Crown
Let our deluded Citizens invite,
Hugge, Kisse, and Licke the Cursed
Canaanite:
What though their Chariots be of Iron? we may
See them lye Groveling, like lost
Sisera.
5
Now Pray observe the Pompe, the Persons, State
That did attend This
Alien Reprobate:
Here, went
Lieutenant Generall Crocodile,
And's
Cubbs, bred of the Slime of our Rich
Nile:
Who weep before they kill, and whose False Teares
Trickle from Blood-shed eyes of Murderers.
Poor
Island! they have made a
Nile of Thee,
We cannot find thy HEAD, which faine wee'd see.
6.
Next march a train of Ravenous
wolves, whose jaws
Yet
owze with th' blood of slaughter'd
King and
Laws:
These are close Mourners; These the Kingdomes gull:
True Wolves, that never Howl, till they are full.
These are the Beasts of Prey, whose sharp Fang Tears
Not
Cavies now, but th' Harmlesse
Levellers;
By whom they rose unto this Greatnes: We,
We are distasted, well as
Monarchy.
7.
Close unto these, in grave Deportment March
The
City Changelings in
Thanksgiving starch,
A sort of
Whelps, Taught by that Woolvish kind;
Who if one Howl'd, strait the whole Kennell whin'd.
These, at the
Whip of cunning
oliver,
Do
Feast, or else drop a dissembling
Tear.
All these attend their AGENTS Funerall;
This Honor'
s but a Trap, the States fly call,
To get another
throat cut, but in vain;
Dorislaw cryes from Hell;
'TWILL BE NO GAIN.
Printed in the Yeare. 1649: ⟨June 18th.⟩