Whitehall fair: OR, Who buys good pennyworths OF BARKSTEAD.  
THE fair proclaimed.  

O Yes, come all who do intend to buy  
Good pennyworths; do you want Treachery,  
schism, Sedition, Votes, both pro and con,  
do you want bane, to kill a Nation:  
do you want Orders, Questions, Proclamations,  
Covenants, Contracts, Compacts, Protestations.  
Here you may furnished be, with sives of air:  
O yes , come all then, unto White-hall-fair.   
Printed for A. P. 1648.   

Whitehall fair, &c.  Spectator. 
HEre's a fair well furnished? what Colonel Barkstead, art thou turned Pedlar, what rarities, make thy pack look with so full a countenance; thou art laden with other Commodities (sure) than Thimbles, and silver spoons.  Pedlar. 
Sir I entrusted am, by our high States,  
Who are the kingdom's Rulers, yea their Fates,  
To put to sale, those paper Ordinances  
Who broke ere they were charged by sad mischances;  
For to make money of those rotten laws  
Which shrunk, and durst not to support the Cause.  
I am authorised to present to view  
The state's Quodiblits, and I have a few  
Of their strange wild projections, hard to see,  
To kill the King, and all his progeny.  Spectator. 
prithee discover some of those envied Objects. What's that thou art so shy to bring out, rip up the belly of thy Bag, and let me take a view of all.  Pedlar. 
Here is a Fairing, dangerous to reveal,  
'Tis the late counterfeited, new Great seal:  
With which the Commons ratify their Acts,  
And do confirm, their treasonable Facts.  
Nor is this to be thought, a grand deceit;  
For they each one, even Kings do counterfeit.  
The King's Power virtually, is in them  
They say, and therefore share his Diadem:  
And though against all Reason, Law, and Right,  
They keep him Prisoner, in the Isle of Wight.  
By consequence, He doth amongst them sit,  
If you will please Sir, for to credit it.  Spectator. 
Their principles are altogether Paradoxes; but prithee, what's that hath so fair an outside, yet is so black within.  Pedlar. 
O Sir! this able is, all Hell to daunt,  
This is the solemn league, and Covenant;  
A damned projection, such as Knox found out  
When he, and Andrew Melvill went about  
For to reform the Scottish Kirk, and draw  
All to embrace, the Presbyterian law.  
When the Earth sweat, for to behold their acts,  
And Hell was ploughed up, with their hellish facts.  
This is the Gordian-knot, that once did tie  
Two kingdoms, in a traitorous amity.  
This thrust them forward, Bishops to pull down;  
And after that, to cease on CHARLES his crown:  
While the poor Commons, of this baleful Isle  
Were forced for to be perjured, and mean while  
Exposed to all calamity, and woe;  
Their Persons slain, their Chattels ceased on too▪  
But now the Members, having gained their ends,  
They kick the Scots off, once their only Friends▪  
The Covenant no longer, they regard;  
They fought for fame, their Brethren for reward.  
And Oliver, even by his Sword hath vowed  
Their Government, shall never, be allowed,  Spectator. 
What's that, that is so patched and pieced there, with many Cuts and slices in't, as if some Sword had been eating out a passage, through and through it.  Pedlar. 
This is an Ordinance, o'the purest kind;  
That maimed Soldiers, may some succour find;  
Those that have lost, a joint, an arm, a Leg,  
Must now no longer, be constrained to beg.  
They shall have a relief, the day is set,  
From those Delinquents states, not found out yet;  
Their service is summed up, and this is all  
That must be their reward, an hospital:  
Threepences a day, clean Straw, contempt and scorn,  
This is the badge, that must their arms adorn.  Spectator. 
Was any other to be expected, but that those who have ruinated others for gain, should in the end perish themselves by want; but what more hast thou there, prithee make a full and free discovery?  Pedlar. 
Here's a Declaration shows  
The Members, do repent the woes  
They have upon, the kingdom brought;  
While they goodmen, its welfare sought:  
Therefore to blear the Commons eyes,  
And for to stint their heavy cries  
This doth declare; they will appoint  
Those men, who to put all in joint,  
Shall hear, their heavy plaints; redress  
All grievances, that them oppress:  
Though no such thing, they do intend;  
Or that their Pressures, e'er should end.  Spectator. 
Enough of that, but what is that other scroll there, thou hast bound up so surely?  Pedlar. 
O Sir, this Ordinance commands  
The speedy sale, of Bishop's lands;  
For since the Church is quite defaced:  
Why with Revenues, is it graced.  
This lovely pawn, is laid to pledge  
To Satan, Prince of sacrilege.  
Since now no Learning's requisite  
But what, the Spirit doth indite.  
Since cobblers, Tinkers, Weavers, tailors,  
Rope-makers, Chandlers, Pedlars, sailors  
Can Preach, and lovely well can Pray,  
When as the Spirit bids them say.  
Since now each Dolt, although in jest,  
Can put on black, and be a Priest;  
And with his staff in hand can trace  
All o'er the Land from place to place.  
And 'mongst the Rurals pick up pence;  
Terming it supreme providence.  
What should we do, with Learned men;  
No, let the Chaos, come again.  
For since no lands the Church doth merit,  
We all will live, upon the Spirit.  Spectator. 
Church Lands are worth a million an Acre, and yet whoseever buys one for a penny, will lose by the bargain, but those Sacrilegious thieves at Westminster, are so fleshed in wickedness, that were it in their power, they would make sale of the Golden gates of Heaven, and traffic for the emeralds and Saphires that pave it, but what other conceits hast thou?  Pedlar. 
Sir, here's an Ordinance, that doth command,  
That all the royal party, out of hand  
Depart the City, and for preservation  
Of those good Members, that now rule our Nation.  
Not come, within ten furlongs of the city  
Lest they be snapped, by a Select Committee.  
Jerusalem, the holy city none  
But Saints, must have their habitation  
In thee; and therefore, now away profane,  
And come, when you are sent for in again.  
None must in London, take up their abode,  
But the blessed roundheads, the Elect of God.  
Whom he hath blessed, with a pure Reformation,  
To trample on the ruins, of a Nation.  
Bow, bow your backs, stoop, stoop and let them ride  
Ye Cavaliers, your Fate you must abide.  Spectator. 
They are immeasurally happy whose occasions will permit them, to keep out of that great but wicked City, who was the first fementer of the late rebellious war, and will be the last that so arts the greatest for its treachery? but what's that i'the black box there?  Pedlar. 
Sir, this some call, hell's masterpiece, the core  
And heart of all those Ills, that went before.  
A vile projection, grim, and dangerous  
Deformed, defunct, destructive Hazordaus.  
The Epitome, and extract of all crimes,  
That have these seven years, abused the Times.  
'tis called an Ordinance, that none shall dare  
Lest they gain death, as those that traitors are.  
From their liege Lord, a letter to receive  
Or, any letter writ from him to give  
Into their hands; hark, hark, ye Nations near,  
Ye Tartars, who do only Demons fear.  
It is high Treason now, for us to do,  
That which the Law of God enjoins us to.  
Yea and all human Statutes, were they scanned  
Command us to obey, our King's command.  
Ring the Bells backward, now let all things jar,  
As when the furious Element managed war.  
All things go quite contrary, blacks called white,  
White black, right is called wrong wrong called right.  Spectator. 
Thou hast shown me very strange ware, such as never no Pedlar before thee could produce; but is this all?  Pedlar. 
No Sir I'ave one thing more, and this is it,  
And let swift Fame, for aye remember it:  
Pray shut your eyes, for that which now I show,  
Once forced Sol back, when he the lines did view.  
As when Thyestes' Banquet, stayed his course,  
Or Joshua's Prayers, did unyoake his horse.  
This I do want a name for, 'tis a thing  
Some call a Declaration, 'gainst the King;  
Taxing him for his Life; this if you buy,  
You have the masterpiece of treachery.  
This, this alone, discovers their false hearts,  
And that they ever, acted traitors parts.  
Since now for to support, their tottering state  
They'll purchase Hell, sell sin, at any rate.  
They would persuade the world, the King's command  
Did send his Father, to the Stygian strand.  
O damned contrivers of a Nations woe,  
The Ruiners of Prince, and People too.  
Come who buys this, that he may read and see  
What vipers our brave Westminsterians be.  

But now 'tis night, and Sol is gone,  
darkness ore-spreads the Horizon:  
All you, who to Whitehall repair  
Pray enter, and behold the fair.  
For such a fair was never known,  
Nor ne'er will be, when this is gone.   
FINIS.