From a broken pate with a pint pot,
For fighting for I know not what,
And from a friend as false as a Scot,
Libera, etc.
From one that speaks no sense, yet talks all that he can,
From an old woman and a Parliament man,
From an Anabaptist and a Presbyter man,
Libera, etc.
From Irish rebels and Welsh hubbub-men,
From Independents and their tub-men,
From sheriffs’ bailiffs, and their club-men,
Libera, etc.
From one that cares not what he saith,
From trusting one that never payeth,
From a private preacher and a public faith,
Libera, etc.
From a vapouring horse and a Roundhead in buff,
From roaring Jack Cavee, with money little enough,
From beads and such idolatrous stuff,
Libera, etc.
From holydays, and all that’s holy,
From May-poles and fiddlers, and all that’s jolly
From Latin or learning, since that is folly,
Libera, etc.
And now to make an end of all,
I wish the Roundheads had a fall,
Or else were hanged in Goldsmith’s Hall.
Amen.
Benedicat Dominus.
THE OLD PROTESTANT’S LITANY.
Against all sectaries
And their defendants,
Both Presbyterians
And Independents.