The Bloody beadroll: Or, Treason displayed in its Scarlet colours.  
Being a Discovery of the most notorious Plotters, and Grand Conspirators, of a company of Rebellious Subjects, not to be paralleled in all Ages. With a list of the Names of the chief Actors; And the Sentence of terror Pronounced against them for their TREASONABLE DESIGNS.  

OLd OLIVER's gone to the dogs,  
Oh! No I do mistake,  
He's gone in a Wherry  
Over the Ferry,  
Is called the Stygian Lake.  
But Cerberus that Great Porter  
Did read him such a Lecture,  
That made him to roar  
When he came a shore  
For being Lord Protector.  

News, news, news,  
Brave Cavaliers be merry,  
cheer up your sad souls  
With Bacchus' Bowls,  
Of Claret, White, and Sherry.    

Where is that Cursed Crew  
That far on the King's grand Jury,  
By thy damned soul  
Go fetch them N●l  
Quoth Pluto in his fury.  
Where is old Joan thy wife,  
Her Highness I would see,  
Come let her in  
She shall be my Queen,  
For a Cuckold thou shalt be.  

News, news, &c.    

Make room for a Ramping Lady  
One of the devil's race,  
This ugly Witch,  
And nasty Bitch,  
Spot in the King's sweet face.  
I'll make her a Lady of honour,  
Quoth Pluto let her in,  
And open the door  
For this old Whore  
Shall wait upon my Queen.  

News, news, &c.    

Here comes Sr. HENRY MARTIN  
As good as ever pissed,  
This wenching beast,  
Had Whores at least  
A thousand at his list:  
This made the Devils laugh,  
So good a friend to see,  
At Pluto's Court  
There's better sport,  
Come thou shalt dwell with me.  

News, news, &c.    

Bid Charon bring his boat,  
Here comes a man of fame,  
Who hath waited here  
Above a year,  
JACK BRADSHAW is his name.  
O ho quoth Pluto then,  
As loud as he could yawl,  
By Oliver's Nose  
I did suppose  
Thou hadst been at White-Hall.  

News, news, &c.    

Thou'rt welcome to my Court,  
Here on my scroll I find,  
I have in store  
A thousand more  
As Arrant rogues behind.  
Why art thou sad quoth Pluto,  
My servants must appear,  
Then do not grudge  
I'll make thee Judge  
Of all my subjects here.  

News, news, &c.    

Here comes a Friend of mine,  
Make room for the Lord LISLE,  
His guests at last  
Did come so fast  
That made old Pluto smile.  
Thou must along with me,  
Now 'tis too late to rue it,  
Thy damned soul  
Is on my scroll  
Remember Doctor Hewet.  

News, news, news,  
Brave Cavaliers be merry,  
cheer up your sad souls  
With Bacchus' Bowls  
Of Claret, White, and Sherry.    

What is the cause Sir ARTHUR  
Your Pulses go so quick?  
'Tis Bishop's Lands  
That's in your hands  
Which makes them beat so thick.  
The Oath of Abjuration  
Was for a worser thing,  
For the Devil and thou  
Did study how  
We should abjure the KING.  

New, news, &c.    

Next comes Sir HENRY MILDMAY  
As good as ever twanged,  
What Laws had we  
When he scaped free  
And honest men were hanged?  
Perhaps the KING's good grace  
May pardon what is past,  
But that's all one  
At Pluto's Court,  
Thou must appear at last.  

News, news, &c.    

Shall traitors be concealed?  
Oh! no Sir HENRY VANE,  
'Tis a pitiful thing  
That our good KING  
That traitors are in grain.  
If thou wilt take the pains,  
Then pray thee go and look,  
For I am told,  
Thou art enroled  
In Pluto's bloody Book,  

News, news, &c.    

Here comes the Learned SPEAKER,  
Whose bags of Gold do rust,  
Who would not hear  
A Cavalier  
Though his cause were ne'er so just,  
Corruption bears the sway  
Where Justice is denied,  
The Devil take him,  
And Mr. PIM,  
And likewise Colonel PRIDE.  

News, news, &c.    

Make room for Sir JOHN HEWSON  
A Lord of good account,  
'Twas a pretty Jest  
That such a Beast  
Should to such honour mount.  
When cobblers were in fashion,  
And Pigherds in such grace,  
'Twas sport to see  
How PRIDE and he  
Did justle for the place.  

News, news, &c.    

What dreadful show is this?  
'Tis PRIDEAUX or his Ghost,  
He makes such haste,  
And comes so fast,  
I think He's riding Post.  
A Lawyer if thou art,  
Amongst the damned souls,  
At Pluto's bar  
'Tis better far  
Then pleading at the rolls,  

News, news, &c.    

Make room for Dr. Peter's,  
And Cornet JOYCE also,  
One of these twain  
The worst that came  
Was he that gave the blow:  
One of these Cursed Rogues  
Was he that did the feat,  
But some men say  
'Twas the Lord Grey  
That made the work complete.  

News, news, &c.    

A Boat for this Old Doctor  
To cross the River Styx,  
For Pluto he  
Desires to see  
Some of his antic tricks.  
My Chaplain thou shalt be,  
What more can be desired?  
Oh! no quoth be  
That cannot be  
My Lease is not expired.  

News, news, &c.    

Oh! my Rump, my Rump, my Rump,  
My Rump smells wondrous strong,  
The blisters rise  
About my Thighs  
With voting here so long,  
My Rump is grown so sore,  
I can no longer sit,  
Hold up thy Bum,  
The Devil is come  
With a plaster to cure it.  

News, news, &c.    

Whea Pluto keeps his feast,  
His servants must appear,  
And Mr. SCOT  
I had forgot,  
Must taste of his good cheer.  
Find out the man quoth Pluto,  
That is the greatest sinner,  
If COOK be he  
Then COOK shall be  
The Cook to Cook my dinner,  

News, news, &c.    

God bless the King's good grace,  
And keep him from his foes,  
I wish the rather  
Because his Father,  
Had too too many of those.  
God bless the Duke of YORK,  
His Sister and another,  
Accurst be those  
That do oppose  
The welfare of his Mother.  

News, news, news,  
Brave Cavaliers be merry,  
cheer up your sad souls  
With Bacchus' Bowls,  
Of Claret, White, and Sherry.     

Printed at Oxford by L. Litchfield; And reprinted at London, for general satisfaction.