M r. Hampdens Speech, occasioned upon the Londoners Petition for PEACE.
BUt will you now to peace encline,
And languish in the maine designe,
and leave us in the lurch.
I would not Monarchy destroy,
But onely as the way t'enjoy,
the ruines of the Church.
Is not the Bishops Bill deni'd,
And we still threatned to be tri'd?
you see the King imbraces
Those counsels he approv'd before,
Nor does he promise which is more
that we shall have their places.
Did I for this bring in the Scot,
(For 'tis no secret now) the plot
was
Say's and mine together;
Did I for this returne againe?
And spent a winter then in vaine
once more t'invite them hither.
Though more our money then our cause
Their brotherly assistance drawes,
my labour was not lost;
At my returne I brought you thence
Necessity my strong pretence,
and this shall quit your cost.
Did I for this my Country bring,
To helpe their Knight against their King,
and raise the first division;
Yet I the businesse did decline
Though I contriv'd the whole designe,
and taught them to petition.
So many nights spent in the City
In that invisible Committee,
the wheele that governs all;
From thence the change in Church & State
And all the mischiefes beares their date
from Haberdashers Hall.
Did we force Ireland to despaire?
Upon the King to cast the war,
to make the world abhor him;
Because the Rebels used his name,
Though we our selves can doe the same,
while both alike are for him.
Then the same fire we kindle here
Whilst we pretend to quench that there,
and wisely lost that Nation;
To doe as crafty beggars use
To maine themselves only t'abuse
the simple mans compassion.
Have I so often past betweene
Winsor and Westminster unseene?
and did my selfe divide,
To keep his Excellence in awe,
And give the Parliament the Law,
for they knew none beside.
Did I for this take paines to teach
Our zealous ignorance to preach,
and did their lungs inspire;
Read'em their texts, shew'd them their parts
And taught them all their little arts
to fling abroad the sire.
Sometimes to beg, sometimes to threaten,
Then say the Cavaleers are beaten,
and stroake the peoples eares.
And streight when victories grow cheap,
And will no more advance the heap,
to raise the price of feares.
And now the books, and now the bells,
And now our arts the Preacher tells
to edifie the people;
All our Divinity is newes,
And we have made of equall use
the Pulpit and the Steeple.
And shall we kindle all this flame,
Onely to put it out againe,
and must we now give ore.
And onely end where we begun,
In vaine this mischiefe we have done,
if we can do no more.
If men in peace may have their right,
Where is this necessity to fight,
and break both law and oath?
Who say that they fight for the cause,
[...] to defend the King and Laws,
But 'ti
[...]
[...]them both.
Either the cause at fir
[...]
[...]
Or[?] being good it is so still,
and thence they will in
[...]erre;
That either now, or at the first
They were deceived, or which is worst
that we our selves may erre.
But plague and famine will come in,
For they and we are near of kin,
and cannot goe asunder;
For while the wicked starve indeed,
The Saints have ready at their need
Gods providence and plunder.
Princes we are if we prevaile,
And gallant villaines if we faile,
when to our fame 'tis told,
It will not be our least of praise,
When our new state we could not raise,
we have destroy'd the old.
Then let us slay, fight, and vote
Till London be not worth a groat,
oh 'tis a patient Beast,
When we have gal'd and tir'd that mule,
And can no longer have the rule,
weele have our spoyle at least.
FINIS.