No fooner was he fit to trudge,
But both made ready to diflodge;
The Spirit hors'd him like a Sack,
Upon the Vehicle, his Back.
And bore him headlong into th' Hall,
With fome few Rubs against the Wall.
Where finding th' outer Poftern lock'd,
And th' Avenues as ftrongly block'd,
H' attack'd the Window,ftorm'd the Glafs,
And in a moment gain'd the Pafs;
Thro' which he dragg'd the worfted Soldier's
Fore-quarters out by th' Head and Shoulders
And cautiously began to fcout,
To find their Fellow-Cattel out.
Nor was it half a Minute's Queft,
E'er he retriev'd the Champion's Beaft,
Ty'd to a Pale instead of Rack,
But ne'er a saddle on his Back,
Nor Pistols at the Saddle bow,
Convey'd away the Lord knows how,
He thought it was no time to ftay,
And let the Night to steal away;
But in a trice advanc'd the Knight
Upon the Bare Ridge bolt upright.
And groping out for Ralpha's Jade,
He found the Saddle too was stray'd,
And in the place a Lump of Soap,
On which he speedily leap'd up;
And turning to the Gate the Rein,
He kick'd and cudgell'd on amain.
While Hudibras, with equal hafte,
On both fides laid about as faft,
And fpurr'd as Jockies ufe, to break,
Or Padders to fecure, a Neck.
Where let us leave 'em for a time,
And to their Churches turn our Rhyme;
To hold forth their declining State,
Which now come near an even Rate.
The Saints engage in fierce Contests,
About their Carnal Interefts;
Tofbare their Sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to Reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm:
Till in th' Effigie of RUMPS, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.
HE Learned write, An Infect Breese Is but a Mungrel Prince of Bees That falls,before a Storm,onCows, And ftings the Founders of his Houfe; From whose corrupted Flesh that Breedi Of Vermine did at firft proceed.
So, e'er the Storm of War broke out,' : yd ol Religion spawn'd a various Rout, rooted
Of Petulant Capricious Sects,
The Maggots of Corrupted Texts,
That first run all Religion down,
And after every Swarm its own.
For as the Perfian Magi once
Upon their Mothers got their Sons,
Who were incapable t' enjoy
That Empire, any other way:
So Presbyter begot the other
Upon the Good Old Caufe, his Mother,
That bore them like the Devils Dam,
Whofe Son and Husband are the fame.
And yet no natʼral Tie of Blood,
Nor Int'reft for their Common Good,
Could, when their Profits interfer'd,
Get Quarter for each other's Beard.
For when they thriv'd they never fadg'd,
But only by the Ears engagid:
Like Dogs that fnarl about a Bone,
And play together when they've none.
As by their trueft Characters,...
Their conftant Actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of Zeal and Plunder, to grow flack;
The Caufe and Covenant to leffen.
And Providence to b' out of Seafon :
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Church's,
But all divided, fhar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on.
Which forcid the Stubborn'ft for the Caufe
To cross the Cudgels to the Laws, I y O
That what by breaking them 't had gain'd, [[
By their Support might be maintain'din of
Like Thieves, that in a Hemp-plot lie, t
Secur'd against the Hue-and-Cry.lun,U
For Presbyter and Independant
Were now turn'd Plaintiff and Defendant, dict Laid out their Apoftolick Functions,
On Carnal Orders and Injunctions ;
And all their precious Gifts and Graces
On Outlawries and Scire facias;
At Michael's Term had many a Trial, rá
Worfe than the Dragon and St. Michael,
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