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For as a fly that goes to bed,
Rests with his tail above his head,

So, in this mongrel state of ours,
The rabble are the supreme powers,
That hors'd us on their backs, to show us
A jadish trick at last, and throw us.
The learned rabbins of the jews

Write, there's a bone, which they call luez,
I'th' rump of man, of such a virtue,
No force in nature can do hurt to ;
And therefore, at the last great day,
All th' other members shall, they say, 1620
Spring out of this, as from a feed
All sorts of vegetals proceed :
From whence the learned fons of art,
Os sacrum justly style that part :
Then what can better represent,

1625 Than this rump-bone, the parliament?

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That after sev’ral rude ejections,
And as prodigious resurrections,
With new reversions of nine lives,
Start up, and, like a cat, revives?
But now, alas ! they ’re all expir’d,
And th' house, as well as members, fir'd;
Consum'd in kennels by the rout,
With which they other fires put out;
Condemn'd tungoverning distress ;
And paltry private wretchedness ;
Worse than the devil to privation,
Beyond all hopes of restoration ;
And parted, like the body and soul,
From all dominion and control.
We who could lately, with a look,
Enact, establish, or revoke,
Whose arbitrary nods gave law,
And frowns kept multitudes in awe ;

16 30





Before the bluster of whose huff,
All hats, as in a storm, few off;
Ador'd and bow'd to by the great,
Down to the footman and valet;
Had more bent knees than chapel mats,
And prayers than the crowns of hats,
Shall now be scorn'd as wretchedly :
For ruin 's just as low as high ;
Which might be suffer'd, were it all
The horror that attends our fall
For some of us have scores more large
Than heads and quarters can discharge ;
And others, who, by restless scraping,
With public frauds, and private rapine,
Have mighty heaps of wealth amass’d,
Would gladly lay down all at last;
And, to be but undone, entail
Their vessels on perpetual jail,

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And bless the devil to let them farms
Of forfeit soul, on no worse terms.

This said, a near and louder shout 1665
Put all th' assembly to the rout,
Who now began t'outrun their fear,
As horses do, from those they bear ;
But crowded on with so much hafte,
Until they ’d block'd the passage fast, 1670
And barricado'd it with haunches
Of outward men, and bulks and paunches,
That with their shoulders (trove to squeeze,
And rather save a crippled piece
Of all their crush'd and broken members, 1675
Than have them grilly'd on the embers;
Still pressing on with heavy packs
Of one another on their backs,
The vanguard could no longer bear
The charges of the forlorn rear,


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But, borne down headlong by the rout,
Were trampled forely under foot;
Yet nothing prov'd so formidable,
As th’ horrid cook’ry of the rabble :
And fear, that keeps all feelings out,
As lefser pains are by the gout,
Reliev'd 'em with a fresh supply
Of rally'd force, enough to fly,
And beat a Tuscan running horse,
Whose jockey-rider is all spurs.

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