In truth this ruffle put the town in great disorder,
Some knaves (in office) smiled, expecting ’twould go furder;
But at the last, “My life on’t! George is no Rumper,” said the Recorder,
“For there never was either honest man or monk of that order.”
From a Rump, etc.
And so it proved; for, “Gentlemen,” says the general, “I’ll make you amends;
Our greeting was a little untoward, but we’ll part friends;
A little time shall show you which way my design tends,
And that, besides the good of Church and State, I have no other ends.”
From a Rump, etc.
His Excellence had no sooner pass’d this declaration and promise,
But in steps Secretary Scot, the Rump’s man Thomas,
With Luke, their lame evangelist (the Devil keep ’um from us!) [55]
To shew Monk what precious members of Church and State the Bumm has.
From a Rump, etc.
And now comes the supplication of the members under the rod:
“Nay, my Lord!” cryes the brewer’s clerk; “good, my Lord, for the love of God!
Consider yourself, us, and this poor nation, and that tyrant abroad;
Don’t leave us:”—but George gave him a shrugg instead of a nodd.
From a Rump, etc.
This mortal silence was followed with a most hideous noyse,
Of free Parliament bells and Rump-confounding boyes,
Crying, “Cut the rogues! singe their tayles!” when, with a low voyce,
“Fire and sword! by this light,” cryes Tom, “Lets look to our toyes!”
From a Rump, etc.
Never were wretched members in so sad a plight;
Some were broyl’d, some toasted, others burnt outright; [56]
Nay against Rumps so pittylesse was their rage and spite,
That not a citizen would kisse his wife that night.
From a Rump, etc.
By this time death and hell appear’d in the ghastly looks
Of Scot and Robinson (those legislative rooks);
And it must needs put the Rump most damnably off the hooks
To see that when God has sent meat the Devil should send cooks.
From a Rump, etc.
But Providence, their old friend, brought these saints off at last,
And through the pikes and the flames undismember’d they past,
Although (God wet) with many struglings and much hast,—
For, members, or no members, was but a measuring cast.
From a Rump, etc.
Being come to Whitehall, there’s the dismal mone,
“Let Monk be damn’d!” cries Arthur in a terrible tone [57]—
“That traytor, and those cuckoldy rogues that set him on!”
(But tho’ the knight spits blood, ’tis observed that he draws none.)
From a Rump, etc.
“The plague bawle you!” cries Harry Martin, “you have brought us to this condition, [58]
You must be canting and be plagued, with your Barebones petition, [59]
And take in that bull-headed, splay-footed member of the circumcision,
That bacon-faced Jew, Corbet, [60] that son of perdition!”
From a Rump, etc.