PEMBROKES Enaration, a little before his Death, or, his Remonstrance to all his fellow Rebells, with his Caution to the City of LONDON.
DAm me what shall I doe? me thinkes I find,
The Pangs of Hell, all in a troubled mind;
Blood cryes for Blood; nay, 'tis the K. blood too,
That gripes my Soul, and speaks my fatall woe:
Zounds, I did Covenant, to maintaine his Right,
And to defend him, with my utmost might,
Plague take the Foole, 'twas I, with many more,
Like Lordly Fooles, that did his Death implore,
Cause was (Gods Blood) because he was too wise,
Too good for's all, and would not Sympathise;
Or to speake home, God dam me give consent.
For to subscribe our Acts of PARLIAMENT.
When We a headlesse Number, oft did meet,
For to subject the Head, unto the Feet;
Vnder pretence, that We, were joyntly bent,
To give to him, and all; all just content.
Confusion take me, I was fool'd to this,
Vnder the motion that We all were his;
But now unto my hearts great griefe I find,
That I was led, just like a man was blind.
With thousands more, who all did then combine,
To shorten him, who to us gave the Line;
Shewed us the way how we might prevent,
Ensuing Evills, and speake full content,
God dam me, to us all: curst be the houre,
That I did ere rebell, (against his Power)
A Catalogue I could name of those,
God dam my Soule, that were this mortall Foes;
Some Brewers, Tinkers, and some other were
Broome-men and Coblers, and I dare to sweare,
Some of unknowne Birth; the best but base,
And yet we all shooke hands, to runne one Race.
I like a Lordly Foole, had no more wit,
But as the Commons bid me, stand or sit;
And now (Gods Blood) I know not what to doe,
Death sweares he'le have me, and some others too:
Though made of Steele, or Iron, 'tis all one,
The State must fall too, when he cryes come, come,
Zounds, whether shall we goe, Dam me old
Nick.
I feare will shew us all, a plaguy Trick.
Gods Blood in Heaven, there cannot be a place,
For any of us Round-Heads, the Royall Race,
Such as for
God, and
King, did manly fight,
Will keepe us out, protesting 'tis their Right.
Why, whether then (Gods Zounds) must
Pembroke goe,
With all the rest,
Pluto doth onely know.
Ah, how Death haules me to some fatall Place,
Where I obscur'd must be for want of grace;
Sinke me, my Councell, to the next shall be,
By flying somewhere, to gaine Libertie;
For when young
Charles (Gods Blood) shall hither come,
Dam me, I feare they will be all undone,
Gods Plague hangs o're them, and the Cities curse,
Attends them all; who at the first did Nurse
This Brat, Rebellion; but now they see,
They were but bull'd, to fight for Libertie,
For all the Liberty to them that's left,
Is, that they are, of all their Wealth bereft:
When that the Commons please to vote it so,
These silly Cowards dare not to say no;
Pride doth attend them menacing their fall.
If they withstand, when he for ought should call.
God dam me (if they'l be advis'd by me)
Ile tell them how to gaine their Libertie:
Aud's blood (in some time) how they may obtaine,
The Honour once they had, unto their fame.
Submit to
Caesar, give King
Charles his Due,
Next under
God, his Right must come from you.
But if you doe withstand, and bow to the State,
God dam me (you will all repent too late
For why Gods Zounds) his Fathers blood doth call,
For speedy Vengeance to light on you all,
All I doe meane, who durst to enterprise,
Against their Soveraigne (the least Armes to raise)
The blood of Nobles, Gentry, and all those,
Who in mad fury you did once oppose,
Zounds, cryes for Vengeance, and svre you must,
If not repent in time, prove all accurst;
Gods blood (I've said enough) be wise in time,
Least you the Triple-Tree (Gods Zounds) doe clime.
FINIS.
Printed at LONDON, 1650.