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A CURSE Againſt Parliament-Ale.

With a Bleſſing to the JƲNCTO; a Thanksgiving to the Councel of STATE; and a Pſalm to OLIVER.

Tom Randal did once, in a merry Tale,
 Write the Commendations of a Pot of Good Ale:
 Revealing what Cures, and Griefs it did eaſe,
 And all ſorts of People comfort and pleaſe:
 But now our Damn'd Juncto, to adde Sorrow to Grief,
 Have Robbed us all, of our beſt Relief:
 That Cauſes my Muſe at the Rebels to Raile,
 That Eight Yeers have Sate, to Reform our Ale. 
We praying this Curſe may ſoon on them fall,
 Their Wives, and their Children; A pox take them all. 

NOD-NOL: Printed for the good of the State. 1649.

A CURSE Againſt Parliament-Ale.

BAſe Miſcreants, Rebells, could ye not invent
 Some other Plague in your damn'd PARLIAMENT
 To vex good-fellows, but you muſt put down
 Strong-Ale, the chief upholder of the Crown? 
Sure, ſure you fear'd (ſince you have miſchief wrought)
 That we ſhould curſe you every Mornings draught;
 Talk of your uſurp'd Power, and in concluſion
 Turn off a Double Pott to your confuſion. 

What made ye elſe to Act againſt our good,
 And put down ALE, the nouriſher of blood? 
Alas, I knew your helliſh PLOTT before,
 'Cauſe you ſhed blood, you'd have us breed no more. 
Or does your tainted ſouls in reaſon think
' Cauſe we want Meat, to keep us from our Drink:
 Now againſt winter too, in ſnow and Froſt,
 Baſely to rob us of our POTT and TOST! 
The ancient DRINK of England to forbid! 
The curſedſt Act the Juncto ever did:
4 'Twas all our TRADING now, to tell a Tale,
 And repeat wrongs over a Pott of ALE:
 Tell the ſad Story of Good CHARLES his Fate,
 How you have Reform'd Monarchy to State:
 How fruitfull ſince your time the Church is grown,
 That hath a Thouſand Hereſyes for one. 
What Acts and Laws ye make; and what obſerve,
 What ye have done: and what your Deeds deſerve;
 What Rule ye Rule by; By what Pow'r ye ſway,
 And ſeek our good, the clean contrary way;
〈◊〉by Oppreſſing you doe eaſe oppreſſion,
 And of the Deadly ſins Vote no Tranſgreſſion. 
How you doe thrive by Theft, and live by murder;
 Goe on in Fraud, till you can goe no further;
 And when on top of all your haughty pride
 Make your ſelves Saints by acting Regicide. 

With ſuch Diſcourſe the time we did beguile,
 Whilſt every one club'd round his Pott the while,
 To ſeaſon grief, and baniſh baſe diſpaire,
 And eaſe our mindes of Poverty and Care. 
But ſince Strong ALE is now departed hence,
 Thus will we CURSE his Small-beer Excellence. 
The Juncto, Army, that procure our woe,
 My Curſe light on them, and the Peoples too. 

A Bleſſing to the Juncto.

MAY Tom of the North, with Pryde and his froath, his Yeſt-Tubb, Hoggs-heads, Barrel;
 be filled with Small-Beer, that never yet was Cleer, that the Rebels may drink till they Quarrel. 
May Noll Cromwels Grace, with his Copper in his Face, drink what a Bogge invites him:
 let his Noſe ſtick in Mudde, as his hands are brew'd in Bloud, and a guilty Con­ſcience affright him. 
May his Life-guard Conſpire, and his Noſe looſe the fire, Strong-Ale at firſt infuſed:
 may he all Cur­ſes have, till he comes to his Grave, that hath a whole King­dom abuſed. 
May Ireton that Rebel, march quickly to Hell, and for Thirſt like Dives complain:
 may Noll and he, and all their Progeny, never drink ſtrong-Ale again. 
May perpetual Thirſt, make them al ſtill Accurſt, in hunger let them pine:
5 and never let them drink, but water that doth ſtink, or the dreggs of ſome poyſonous Wine. 
May their Food be Hopps and Grayns, and all end their Reigns, at Tyburn take their Degrees:
 like to Abſalom, let them come ſtill ſhort home, and end all their lives on Trees. 
Let Bradſhaw take a Bribe, to be­tray all the Tribe, as he hath done his King:
 and after he hath done, into Perdition run, and end his life with a Swing. 
Let Sir Harry Mildmay; like Iudas betray; their Cauſe in his whim­ſy-fitt:
 and when with his Maid, he hath often plaid, be tane in the Gravel-pitt. 
Let Steel, Cooke, and Wylde, that have ſo often beguild, the Kingdom of their Right:
 do Juſtice at laſt, and all the Rebels Caſt, that againſt their Soveraign fight. 
Let Pryde with his Sling, that Reigns like a King, be ſod in his own Fatt:
 his Children and Wife, live at variance and ſtrife, and his Cattel die all of the Rott. 
Let Hewſon fight his Laſt, and in his Ends be ſtill croſt, with clean and pleaſant weather:
 may his Knife and Threads break, and his Soul ſpring a leak, and his skin be tan'd to make Leather. 
May Whitlock have his Due, that yet was never True, to Goſpel, Law, or Reaſon:
 and when he doth depart, I wiſh with all my heart, he may Suffer for High Treaſon. 
May Martin and his Punk, be e­very day Drunk, until a Surfeit ſpeed them:
 and when they be poor, run ſtill on the Score, and the Chyrurgion deny to Bleed them. 
May Peters Preach and Fight, and in Sedition delight, till his Tongue do ſet all on Fire:
 and in the conclu­ſion, ſome ſudden Confuſion, fruſtrate the Rebels deſire. 
May Corbet the Jew, that yet was never true, be ſtoned through Loathbury:
 and like Doctor Lambe, be ſent from whence he came, or be Chained in Charons Ferry. 
May Okey and his Rout, of Dragoons face about, and once again brew Small-Beer:
 may they wait for the Day, and alwayes miſs their Pay, or be Rowted twice in a yeer. 
May Lenthall that Athieſt, turn Alcymiſt, and Cheat the State of their Coyn:
 that he may Buy Land, and Cole have Command, of all he doth Pur­loyn. 
May Whalley and Rich, and Barksteed and ſuch, baſe ſcums, as Deſhury, Sanders:
 when theſe Wars do ceaſe, and once we have a Peace, be hang'd for High-way-ſtanders. 
May Lilburn from the Tower, overthrow all their Power, and his
6 Levellers Riſe and prevaile:
 may they hang up Committees, that undo Towns and Cities, and lay all Excize-men in Jayle. 
May the old doting Mayor, fall into Diſpair, and the wiſe Al­dermen of the City:
 like Perjur'd Elves, fall mad and hang themſelves, and their Caſe let no man pitty. 
May the Com­mon-Councel ſit, without Money or Wit, to Raiſe a new Sum for the Army:
 then let Noll Return, and your City Sack and Burn, and the Juncto the whilſt diſ-arm yee. 
May Alderman Byde, get the uper hand of Pryde, and Scarlet ſtill adorn him:
 and when he doth fail, to Brew more Strong Ale, pray Vul­can his Wife may Horn him. 
May all Countries Riſe, and Pay no Excize, till King CHARLES be ſet on His Throne:
 may they Raiſe new Force, of Money, Men, and Horſe, and ſeek to ſecure their own. 
May their Navie all Sail, by ſome unlucky Gale, to Dunkirk or Oaſtend:
 when their Saylors be drunk, let their Ships be all ſunk, and their Piracy come to an end. 
May the Blood they have ſhed, and their King Mur­dered, aloud for vengeance Cry:
 till the Heavens do ſend, ſome Plague for their end, that have deſtroyed Monarchy. 
May the Church-Lands, lie ſtill on their Hands, and he be Curs'd that Buys them:
 'gainſt the will of the Dead, when themſelves are Buried, juſt Heaven will ſure deny them. 
May all the Kings Goods, His Parks, Chaſes, Woods, His Chil­dren now diſtreſſed:
 be delivered from their Paws, that will obſerve no Laws, and the People that do it Bleſſed. 
May their ſeveral Vows, that no breaking allows, their Oaths and Per­juries:
 beſides their murder and ſtealth, and the wronged Common-wealth, procure their Miſeries. 
May their Pitts, Nets, and Traps, made for others Miſhaps, procure their ſud­den woe:
 and when they be Dead, lie Unburied, and their Souls to the Devil go. 
May their Wives turn all Jades, and live on their Trades, and their Children be marked like Cain:
 may they never have a day, of Comfort or Joy, till CHARLS the Second do Reign. 

Amen.

A Thanks-giving to the Army.

MOſt Powerful, and Puiſſant Conquerers, that by your Might in Wickedneſs, have overcome and cut off our7 moſt Rightful and Gracious King, ſubdued our Laws, filled our Land with Schiſme, Hereſie, Prophanneſs, Murders, Lies, Robberies, &c. We bleſs you, we magnifie you, we adore you, and acknowledge all we have to be at the mercy of your Swords, from this time forward, Parliament everlaſting, world without end. Amen.

To the Councel of State.

MAy it pleaſe you Right Horrible, Damnable, &c. The taking down the Councel-Board, Star-chamber, and High-Commiſſion, was becauſe they were Tyrannical, and Obnoxious to the good and well-being of the people; And finding you to be more Tyrannical and Wicked then ever thoſe Courts were, We deſire to know from whence you derive your Power; And are Reſolved (God willing) to Down with you next, notwithſtanding your immuring your ſelves in White-hall, placing a Guard upon you, till you Commit wickedneſs with a high hand.

Let Juncto, Army, Devil, do what they can,

Your Ends ſhall be like Buckingham and Lambe.

A Hymne to CROMWEL.

To the Tune of, Let Cromwels Noſe alone.

SING old Noll the Brewer, ſing old Noll the Brewer,
 With his Copper-face, and Ruby-Noſe, now is Routed ſure:
 Let Cromwels noſe ſtill reign, let Cromwels noſe ſtill reign,
 Tis no diſgrace to his Copper-face, to Brew ſtrong Ale again. 

Tredagh he took by Storm, and there he got much Riches;
 But Ards and Inchiquin, has made him wrong his Breeches. 
Let Cromwels Noſe ſtill Reign, &c. 

Trim and Dundalk was quit, and Noll did forward go,
 Before he at Killkenny came, A lack and alaſſe for wo. 
Let Cromwels Noſe ſtill reign, let Cromwels Noſe ſtill reign,
 Tis no diſgrace to his Copper-face, to Brew ſtrong Ale again. 

Ormond with Iriſh ſtout, did Charge him in the Van,
 And gave him there a Rowt, that kill'd both Horſe and Man. 
Let Cromwels Noſe ſtill Reign, &c. 

Tredagh is now Regain'd, the Mount was never tane,
 Moſt People now do think, that he will end his Reign. 
Let Cromwels Noſe ſtill reign, &c. 

Hugh Peters lay for dead, and ſaid he was not well,
 One ſtriping him, he ſaid, He new came out of Hell. 
Let Cromwels Noſe ſtill reign, &c. 

Ireton was found dead, Jones had his deadly-blow,
 Which made the Ely Bull to Roar, Bellow, and Loe. 
Let Cromwels Noſe ſtill reign, &c. 

Sure Lilly was a Witch, that did perſwade his ſtay,
 But he without his Breech, to Ireland would away. 
Let Cromwels Noſe ſtill reign, &c. 

Now they have hem'd him up, within a Caſtle ſure,
 The Iuncto little think, what's Lordſhip doth endure. 
Let Cromwells noſe ſtill reign, &c. 

They now doe ſay the Lawrd, did their great Cauſe betray
 And ſent them all to heaven — the clean contrary way. 
Let Cromwells noſe ſtill reign, &c. 

Thus every Tyrant thrives, and every Traytor ſhall
 Ayming to reach a Crowne, into Perdition fall. 
Let Cromwells Noſe ſtill reign, let Cromwels Noſe ſtill reign,
 Tis no diſgrace to his Copper-face, to Brew ſtrong Ale again. 

FINIS.

About this transcription

TextA curse against Parliament-ale. With a blessing to the juncto; a thanksgiving to the councel of state; and psalm to Oliver.

Author[unknown]

Extent Approx. 14 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 5 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images.

Edition1649

SeriesEarly English books online.

Additional notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A81193)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 165457)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 88:E575[33])

About the source text

Bibliographic informationA curse against Parliament-ale. With a blessing to the juncto; a thanksgiving to the councel of state; and psalm to Oliver. 8 p. Printed for the good of the state,Nod-nol [i.e. London] :1649.. (In verse.) (Annotation on Thomason copy: "Octob: 25".) (Reproduction of the original in the British Library.)

Languageeng

Classification

Cromwell, Oliver -- 1599-1658 -- Humor -- Early works to 1800.
England and Wales. -- Parliament -- Humor -- Early works to 1800.
Political satire, English -- 17th Century.
Great Britain -- Politics and government -- 1649-1660 -- Humor -- Early works to 1800.
Great Britain -- History -- Commonwealth and Protectorate, 1649-1660 -- Early works to 1800.

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ImprintAnn Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2013-12 (EEBO-TCP Phase 2).

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DLPS A81193
STC Wing C7685
STC Thomason E575_33
STC ESTC R206352
EEBO-CITATION 99865516
PROQUEST 99865516
VID 165457

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