HA, ha, ha, Hoop, what comes here, a Brat of my own bringing forth?

Zounds thou lyest, I am no Monster like thee, I scorn to loose the least title of my usurped Honour. Am not I the powerfull mighty and invincible stamp of Tyranny, to whose shaddow all must and shall bow, or else expect the terrour of my Thundring Ordinances, Votes, and De­clarations, how darest thou to question my impregnable Force to whose Com­mand Armies were subject.

What force hast thou? Wilt thou deny me, thy own Mother from whence thou hadst thy first Birth, breath, life and being was not I the first Arse, or stump from whence all misery befell man, did not I seduce the Woman to the destruction of all men? and am thy own creator?

No my name is beyond thy stinking Pedigree, is not Rump an Honour­able name.

And is not my name the very same, but one of better narure.

What! dost thou spit at me?

Would it were mortal poison for thy sake.

Oh cursed Varlet, the very scent of thy stinking Salliport would infect a Toad.

Out of my sight, thy very breath infects my eyes.

Some dismall Fiend confound the substance of thy Hellish shape.

Art thou like bloody Nero to murder me thy own mother? who didst thou learn this cruelty of.

None but thy self?

It is true I caused Cain to murder a fourth part of the whole would, I his own Brother.

And with these bloody Pawes I murthered my own King; And world do my Gen. Monck too, were I in place again.

Out Devil murther thy King?

I and would murther thee too, wert thou a King.

I had rather be a Pedlar, far be the thought of it from me; but where is thy Conscience?

In the Exchequer, had it not been so, I had never embrewed my hands in blood for cursed gold. But is there no more Murtherers but I?

Here comes many more of your Comrades:

I murthered my Soveraign Lord and King Constance, and many more besides.

Etheldred, I murthered mine own Brother Edward to possesse his Crown, and subtily caused all the Danes in one general banquet to be slain,

And I murthered my King Edmond Iron-sides.

Did not I go before you all? I can scarce number the Catalogue of my murthers plots and treacheries; I murthered Hewet, Love, Slingsby, and many more, besides I causd Sindercomb to be poysond, and to clear my pre­tended innocency layd it on himself. And I gave Tythes to the Priests to make all amends. I alwaies stool a Goose and stuck down a Feather. Nay rather then leave my old Trade of Murder, I hangd many of my ow Souldiers, as I did a Drummer in Ireland, for taking a Mutton from the enemy, and two at Eden­burgh in Scotland.

And I (through thy perswasion after I had swore fealty) murthe­red Thompson and many of the Burfordians.

And I because the blood of men could not satisfie me murthered the harmless Bears on the Bankside.

And I think thou art well requited?

Indeed I find so for I did not only murder the Bears, but pinch the poor of measure while on earth, but have it large enough in Hell.

I and good reason too, you have your firing free Noble Colonel.

I but though firing be cheap, water is dear, there's never a Tankard-bearer in Hell; therefore I have little hope of helpe.

What pratling's here? Did not I teach you all to murder?

And what have you all done that I have not been forward in, I have destroyed all Laws, Break Oaths, Covenants, committed, Sacriledge, murders, Plunderings, and would have done more, had not I been prevented, by a company of Secluded Malignants of my own creating. And shall not I be received to sit in Council among you.

I But first setting by all Ceremonies, Mrs. Rump, is not my name more Ancient, and I more Honourable, art not thou a brat of my own Hatching?

No, I come of noble blood; which I have gained by noble mur­ther, the Scarlet die of which lies still in my stained Conscience; But yet not thy Brat.

Grim fiend thou lyests for the very substance of thy deformed shape, was fram'd in Hell, by Mulciber Blacksmith, who Anvell'd thee out of my horrid, Black, and putrifi'd, Excrements.

I charge thee be gone, If not I shall force thee to an Oath of Abjuration, and if that be performed thou maist by thy perjury become one of my Counsel.

What dost thou intend to swallow up my blood as thou didst the blood of thy Soveraign Lord and King?

I do so, my delights in nothing more then Martyrings Kings, and to have my hands smoaking in the blood of Princes; Oh the Son of him, who was the sacrifice of my youth! his escape is the chiefest of my torment, who now is like to be advanced to my destruction.

Thou Dam'd Hedgehock, what repent now its too late for that. Thou maist now travel with thy late born Babe of Reformation at thy back in a blancket like an old Irish Bennoot: but whose there Mulciber.

I come, I come, I come, Whats here to be done, a piece of my own work, Ile finish it? come away thou lowsie Rump, now will I have thee to my Anvel; and beat thee into a better form that thou maist seem some what.

Oh good Sir, where shall I go?

To Hell the fittest place for thee, Earth is not to be pestered up with such, combersome bundles of basenesse, I shall Anvill the into some better form quickly.

Will no dungeon serve turn, but that ugly loathsome and mise­rable place of torment?

No place but one?

What place dost thou mean.

I mean that stinking poysonous place called the Ile of Jaqueses, where the black horrid excrements of all sinners may Float upon thy loathsome Soul, and smother thy loathsome Brat of cursed, Usurping and Tyrrannical Reformation to Eternity, as a Revenge on thee for thy cruelty committed on thy Right and Lawful Soveraign Lord the King.