[portrait of Oliver Cromwell]
[portrait of Lady Cromwell]

The Case is Altered.

OR, Dreadful news from Hell.

In a discourse between the Ghost of this grand Traytor and Tyrant Oliver Croomwel, and Sir reve­rence my Lady Joan his wife, at their late meeting neer the Scaffold on Tower-hill.

WITH His Epitaph written in hell, on all the grand Traytors, now in the Tower.

London Printed, for John Andrews at the white Lyon near Pie-Corner.

[...]

The Case is altered, OR, Dreadful news from Hell. In a discourse between the Ghost of that grand Tyrant and Traytor Oliver Cromwel, and Sir Reverence my La­dy Joan his wife.

Joan.

WAlking over Tower-hill near about the place where Sendercome was buri­ed, I saw an apparition appear, Lord quoth I what is here!

Noll.
[Page 6]

Thy Lord, sweet heart, and Queen Joan, the Old Dragon late Lord Protector.

Joan.

What Oliver my dear friend, In the name of the twelve grand jury Traytors, what comes thou here for.

Noll.

Why truely I come about seve­ral accounts now, the first was to know what strange alterations have been here, since I departed my late reprobate vale of Tyranny; And another thing was to know what was become of my dear Imps, the two Princes Richard and Henry.

Joan.

As for the two Princes I shall relate their fall, proceeding of their mis­fortune, by and by, but the product will prove as sad a story, as the fall of Jehew, or Bal­shazar, but pray tell me first what is the reason of this your solentary walking here.

Noll.

Why truly part is in regard of decensions, which is always rising be­tween the Devil and I, whereupon I do intend for to streak out and appoint a place where Hasterigs bones, Scot, and Vanes, shall be intered, for absolutely if they would dispatch and come away, with their advice and my own, we could usurp a power from the Devil, and live [Page 7] in a corner by our selves, without inter­ruption.

Joan.

Why cannot you deal with him now?

Noll.

No, no, Bradshaw and I cannot, for all we have dealt with him so much as we have.

Joan.

Well I shall tell them what you say, for I think I shall go to the Tower ere long.

Noll.

Ah, but not to continue there, poor Joan, must ye?

Joan.

Yes, truely, there I believe, or else in Bride-well.

Noll.

Why? you were never accessary to any of my horrid Vilanies, were ye.

Joan.

No thats true, but part of your venom lighted upon my tongue, and twas never wipt of yet, nor never will to my dy­ing day.

Noll.

Why what hast thou said to any of them all.

Joan.

Nothing but true honest presumpti­ous words. That your son King Richard the fourth, had most right to wear the Crown of these three Kingdomes.

Noll.

Wear a Crown, wear a halter, I know he was never capable out.

Joan.

Why did you think so, had not he a great many of your devilish parts in him.

Noll.
[Page 8]

No, no, nor develish braines neither, for if hee'd had, he might a run the destruction of City and Country, as well as I did, and a lived like a Tyrant, though he had dyd like a dog.

Joan.

Aye truly Noll, had he but a took your course, we had all lived in a brave, sweet, diabolical condition; so long as we had three captivitated Kingdomes to rob and impoverish, whom you left him heir of, and General of all the Armies, though I must confesse he knew no more how to grovern them then did a dog.

Noll.

Aye thou sayst true, Jug he had more mind to his Dogs and his Haucks, then he had to be a Tyrannical Protector, like me.

Joan.

But indeed Noll he was led by the nose, like an ape in a string, by that Schis­matick Judas fact Fleetwood, who run his own ruine by it, taking so much rope, that he hangd himself at last; and thus were we poor reprobates dasht out of counte­nance, scoft, scornd, and derided, and even stunck in the nostrils of all sober mind­ed people, worse then your wretched corps, did at the inbalming.

Noll.

O but how did I roar at the [Page 9] news, when I heard that righteousness should take place, it pierced my eares worse then an augor, that even Hell gates did tremble.

Joan.

But how came the news thither so soon.

Noll.

Why had not they evil spirits enough about them to carry it.

Joan.

But what would you have done Noll, had you been there then at that time.

Noll.

I would have paved my way to the house, with their sculs.

Joan.

Alas poor dog of Epypt.

Noll.

But who ruld the sword of ven­geance then, when my Imps was dis­carded?

Joan.

O the Rump came tumbling in like mad, and sat in the night times a great while.

Noll.

Why did they sit in the night?

Joan.

Because they were ashamed to sit in the day.

Noll.

Who brought them into their former rebellion?

Joan.

O twas Lambert running headlong as if he would break his neck.

Noll.

Altogether had been no great [Page 11] matter, but did they continue long there.

Joan.

No, no he presently turnd them out again, and began to set up for himself.

Noll.

O brave Lambert the Devil play his part bravely in him, to be for um and gainst um too, but who rul'd the mischief after Lambert.

Joan.

O a Committee of safety all-wea­thers.

Noll.

Ha boyes, they were a safe Com­mitte indeed.

Joan.

No not so safe neither, for they were presently turned out agen.

Noll.

Then it seems the Devil plaid his part, amongst my brethren bravely.

Joan.

Aye truely Noll, and amongst your Children too as I my self.

Noll.

But where was your den of sedi­tion then all that while, the honest hypo­crits were hatching vilanies.

Joan.

O I was at home at my own joyn­ture at the Cock-pit.

Noll.

And why did you not continue their?

Joan.

Truely so I would Noll, but the Secluded Members came in, and they told me twas none of my own, and turned me clearly out of doors at last, neither did they [Page 10] give me as much homage as they might have given to an ordinary Dutchess.

Noll.

Alas poor Queen, but what did the Rump do when they went to Ports­mouth?

Joan.

O they stole up presently agen, and sate agen.

Noll.

O fie talk no more, talk no more of this, for I think I hear my bones crackle in the old chest, to think I had not been amongst them in such a fine vi­lenous sport.

Joan.

O Oliver you had a good turn out, that the Devil fetcht you away so soon as he did, before these sad dayes had come to pass.

Noll.

Aye truly Jugg and if a had fetcht thee too, it had not been a hapeth of harme, then thou shouldst a been rid from this calamity, but prethee whether be all those reverence, discreet Rumpers gone, the Devils Compeitdors.

Joan.

Alass most of them be tabled in the Tower, and each of them have a cupple of Musket-teares honorably to attend them at their Chamber doors, secuer enough Ile warrant ye.

Noll.

Pray who are the capitals of them.

Joan.
[Page 12]

Why truly tis Arguile, Antrim. Hasslerig and Vane.

Noll.

O brave politickcal worthy Tray­tors, all fitting to live in a Common-wealth, and able to destroy it in one half year.

Joan.

Nay they did intend to do it in less then a month, for had they set the three Kingdoms together in another war, under pretence of Religion, their designes had been accomplisht.

Noll.

And why were they not?

Joan.

Because the devil brought out their designes so speedily.

Noll.

The reason was because he could stay no longer without their company.

Joan.

But who would you have now to Preach their Funeral Sermons.

Noll.

O Person Peters my own Di­vine, that sent me headlong to the De­vil, and can he not as well send them? yes faith Ile warrant ye.

Joan.

Nay truely I verily believe that hees a comming along with them.

Noll.

Not unlikely truely, for he doth deserve the place as well as the best of them.

Joan.
[Page 13]

But where will you appoint a place to bury their corps in.

Noll.

One the middle of little Tower­hill.

Joan.

And why there, on Tower hill?

Noll.

Because they shall not anoy any other good people in the Church-yard.

Joan.

Pray will ye ordain the Epitapht which are most meet and suitable for such a brave, prophane, ireligious honorable so­ciety.

Noll.

Yes that I will, for my consci­ence within me commands me to assist any of my reprobated sons of perdition, and they shall be these as followeth.

THE EPITAPHS.

HEre lyes the body of Arguile a Scot
Whose Tyranny will never be for­got,
Murthered his fellow Marquess of Muntross,
Thirty foot high this Vilan built his cross,
Its too long to tell of all his acts that's past,
But in the end, the Gallows was his last
Here lyes the Earl of Antrim whose tongue,
Have bloody grand conspiraces begun,
Brought up in Ireland but was born a Scot,
Whose hands perpetually contrved plots,
For all his acts and horrid Villany,
A shameful death in this same place did dye.
Here lyes the body of Haslerig the late
Grand Traytor to his King, both Church and State.
Most impirous Vilane Tyranised ore,
Three stately Kingdomes twenty years and more:
Murthered his Prince and all his ho­nours blast,
For which due recompence will hang at last.
Here lyes the body of Henry Vane we know,
Proud Traytor to his King and Coun­try too,
The Rumpships title lately did invent,
But term'd themselves a stately Par­liament.
Reproach and baseness heel bring to his grave,
Who liv'd like a Tyrant and dyd like a Knave.
Now I old Oliver have got such fame,
That Rolls of Infamy records my name,
I do desire both with heart and tongue
Beseeching that you would not stay too long,
And do desire you all your friends to tell,
Old Olivers become house-keeper in Hell.
FINIS.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. Searching, reading, printing, or downloading EEBO-TCP texts is reserved for the authorized users of these project partner institutions. Permission must be granted for subsequent distribution, in print or electronically, of this EEBO-TCP Phase II text, in whole or in part.