Mris. RUMP brought to Bed of a MONSTER, with her terrible pangs, bitter Teming, hard Labour, and lamentable Travel from Portsmouth to Westminster, and the great misery she hath endured by this ugly, deformed, ill-shapen, base begotten Babe, or Monster of Reformation, with the great care of Nurse Haslerig, and Mistress London the Midwife.  

The Prologue.  

Let merry Bells with Musiick backwards Ring,  
Whilst we the praise of Mistress Rump do sing,  
Let all her friends at Portsmouth Bonfires make  
Of purest Straw they from Pised Beds can take;  
With Eccoes' loud like shrieking of a Cart,  
And with shrill noise more sweeter than a F—  
For now she's safe from danger brought a bed,  
Behold the Monster of her Maidenhead;  
The Nurse is paid, not by imagination,  
But by the new found Coin called Sequestration.  
'Tis strange a Rump that's roasted, boiled, and broyed,  
Should die, and yet produce a Monstrous Child;  
But yet Spectators now with patience view  
This Scene, 'tis called, a false Rump never true.    

Enter Mistress Haslerig an old dry Nurse, and chief Matron to the Rump.  
GAllop, Ride, Trot, Amble, Go, Run amain, with all agility, dexterity, alacrity and celertty, call Mrs. London the Midwife, and tell her the Mistress Rump desires her to come away presently, for she's in strong labour and endures miserable pangs and throws that comes upon her by playing the Whore at Portsmouth; pray Heavens she hath not tajen some fright at the exclamations of the people against the Fag-end of a Parliament! I'll be sworn it's enough to galley a Gentlewoman of her quality and breeding to be despised by every idle boy that makes verses, rhymes and Songs of her, making no better of her then a common Camp or Ammunition M— turning up her Tail to every lousy ill-dependant, besides Martin the Town Bull. Well she is not the first that hath done amiss, these are but slips occasioned by the weakness of her Sex. I'll in and make her a spiritual Caudle, I doubt she'll have an ill bargain on't. Mistress Rump, how do you? I say Mistress Rump Will you have a little Strong Water of Mistress Scots distellation, or a Caudle of Sequestration to comfort your putrifyd Bum?  Mistress Rump. 
Oh sick, sick, I must Spew Nurse pray reach the Boul, Haw— awe— awe—.  Nurse. 
Well said Mistress, fetch it up: up with it: Heaven bless us! What's this looks so red Mistress?  Mrs. Rump. 
Oh 'tis blood, innocent blood, that hath lay in congealed clods in my Stomach a 11 years; Hark how loud it cries for vengeance! I never felt it before I was overpowred by my Secluded Gossips, only once at Portsmouth, when I was frighted by my Gossip Fleetwoods' party and the London Apprentices Oh the death of my King, his blood and the fear of his Sons coming, causes me pain to increase, I understand too late he suffered by my Tyranny, an innocent and untimely end.  Nurse. 
'Tis well 'tis up, Mistress cast again.  Mistress Sump. 
Aw—, awe—, awe— Oh my heart is almost burst!  Nurse, 
Lord, Mistress, what is that looks so yellow, Is it Cholier?  Mistress Rump. 
No Nurse 'tis Gold, accursed Gold, for love of which I sold my God, murdered my King, gave away my Soul, and pulled down the gates, Posts, Percullisses, nay Nurse through thy instigation had like to have fired the habitation of Mistress London my Midwife, and that for a small sum of one hundred thousand pounds Aw—, awe—, awe—.  Nurse. 
What's this looks like Paper?  Mistress Rump, 
These are Votes, and Ordinances of my own creating, contrary to Law or Reason, made only to Keep out my King contrary to my Oath of Allegiance, and for sequestering my friends to enlarge my own Coffers. Pray hold my back hard Nurse, else my heart will shiver in pieces.  Nurse. 
What's this that comes so strongly up? Foh foh, now it stinks all the Kingdom over, but I cannot help it.  Mistress Rump. 
Oh Nurse it's too late now. This is that damnable Declaration you caused to be leapt up in an Oath of Abjuration against my Sovereign the King, aspersing him and his whole Line with scandalous lys: calling him tyrant who was the most Virtuous mild and loving Prince to his Subjects in the World; Pray flng some hot embers on it, and make haste for Mistress Murder, Mistress Rapine, and my good neighbour Mrs. Perjury.  Nurse. 
I'm gone, here's the Midwife, Mistress London is come forsooth.  Mistress London. 
Mistress Rump how do you I pray?  Mistress Rump. 
Oh Mistress London, help me now or I die, never did Rump endure so much sorrow, with bitter pangs, sobs and sighs. Oh, oh I am ready to die, you need not have stayed so long; there was no Gates, Portculliss or Posts to hinder you, Oh I'm ready to departed!  Mrs London. 
Go, and the Devil go with you, I came but to laugh at thy misery, thou hast had too much of my help already, which hath emboldened thee to play the Strumpet.  
As soon as she had made an end of speaking, in came rushing Mrs. Privilege, Mrs. Ordinance, Mrs. Schism, Mrs. Sedition, and Mrs. Toleration, who presently fell about their business: one held her hands, another her back, and a third her members, she being in this grievous agony (having no hopes to scape with life, desired Mrs. Haslerig to indite a bill to have her prayed for) and that it be speedily sent by the Lord Mayor to the several Congregations within every their respective Parishes for her safe Deliverance; which most accurately she penned in form of a Declaration, in these words following.   

The Declaration of Mrs. Rump, lying very weak, and in most grievous Pangs of Childbearing; and cannot be DELIVERED.  
WHatsoever dangers are threatened or feared, either by the great perplexity I am at this present in (or by reason of my manifold sins that now in my weakness lie heavy upon my Conscience,) yet I have assurance, that if I confess and forsake them (as I have no such intention) I shall find mercy.  
Therefore I confess and acknowledge (but not from the bottom of my heart) that for the space of these eveven years I have been a most cruel Murderer, not only of Bodies, but of Souls; that I have perjured myself, First by my Oath of Allegiance, and secondly by my Solemn Covenant, wherein (as in Hos. 1. 9) I have spoken words, swearing falsely in making a Covenant; springeth up against me) like Hemlock in the furrows of the field: That I have most Traitorously betrayed, and murdered my lawful King, the Anointed of the Lord, that I have made God's House and the King's House a Den of Thiefs: that I have loved wickedness, and practised it; that no fear hath dehorted me from doing any thing, (but Justice) that I have Rob both God and the King, and have not feared the one, nor honoured the other: that I have used all manner of juggle, Cozenage, contradictions and Equivocations, that my Religion hath been Railing, Blasphemy; Treason and Tautalogies.  
And that I have not only Coveted but by the instigation of the Devil, and against the Laws of our Sovereign Lord King Charles, forceably taken, stole and carried away the Goods and Chattels of many thousands of His Majesty's Loyal and obedient Subjects; that I have made this Canaan of all happiness, a Golgatha, and Field of Blood; and have yoked my fellow Subjects to the Pride, Tyranny and Oppression of my own Lust and Ambition; instead of Reforming I have Deformed, and instead of repairing I have pulled down; Which hath occasioned all these miseries to fall upon me; My greatest grief of all being, that I know I have Committed all this, and much more, but cannot Repent for the same; therefore the several Ministers within the Cities of London and Westminster, and the late Lines of Communications, are desired upon next Good Friday if I shall not be Delivered before, to keep a day of feigned Humiliation, and Prating; that the heavy judgements that so inevitably threaten me, may be diverted: That so I may come in again to Rule, Reign, and Tyrannize over you, Rump everlasting, Impositions, Assessments and Taxations without end, Amen.  
Your despised Friend, Rump.  
While this was writing Mrs. Rump grew worse and worse, and the good Wives made account she had been drawing on: therefore Mrs. Privilege stepped to her and spoke as followeth, viz.  
Mrs. Privilege. Dear Daughter I perceive by thy Pulses beating, and so much blood springing out of thy Conscience into thy Face, that thou art almost already as it were dead, and its a question whether the Child thou now art in labour with may come to perfection or no? or live to receive its Christendom, and though I have upheld thee in all thy Actions, and safely brought thee from Portsmouth to London; yet thy sins and abominations have been so great I cannot deliver thee so as to restore thee to thy former power, I advise thee therefore restore what is taken by thy cruel Ptws from thy God, thy King, thy Neighbour, and repent of thy perjuryy.  
Whilst thus she speak the Room was filled with smoke, over spread clear with darkness, the Candles went out, and terrible thundaing were heard, intermixed with wawling of Cats, howling of Dogs, and barking of Wolves, which struck a great terror in all her Gossips; In the mean time Mrs. Rump brought forth an ugly deformed Monster without a Head, goggleeyed, bloody hands, growing out on both sides of its devouring paunch, under the Belly hung a great Bag, and the Feet were like the Feet of a Bear; those that will see it may repair to the Plantation of Fumigosus called Slavonia, where this Brat is gone to be nursed with her Cousin Jermine, Nrs. Sequestration, who no sooner departed, but in comes the secluded Nurses.  
Enter Secluded Nurses; What's here to do? Is no Room left for us, if not, we'll make Room by force.  
Nurse Lenthall. Pray sit down, you're all Welcome.  
Secluded Nurses? Nurse Lenthall pray read over the Manuscript of Mrs. Rump.  
Nurse Lenthall. Here's an Act again the line of King James; an Act for sequestering Booth and Lambert's parties.  
Secluded Nurses. Those Acts we Vote as Null and Void, we clear the Road; let the next go on where we have left; and right will take place, the putrified Rump be in a weak Condition, though it's supposed we fatt'ed them.  
we'll make them Lean, and all for sorrow sing  
Themselves to Hell; England shall have a King.   

Epilogue.  

Rejoice Great Britain now, for King there's none  
Shall Govern thee, but Charles, and he alone  
Will piece and plenty to this Nation bring,  
Who is the Son of Charles thy Martyrd King.  
The Rump of Traitors, that did sore so high  
To spill the blood of sacred Majesty,  
Are now defunct, Poor Whore, she's brought a Bed  
Of a long tail, but neither Brains or Head.     

Printed by Portcullis Damgate for Theod. Microcos●●●, 1660.