THE ARRAIGNMENT Of the devil, for stealing away PRESIDENT BRADSHAW.  
To the Tune of, welladay, welladay,  

IF you'll hear news that's ill,  
Gentlemen, Gentlemen,  
Against the devil: I will  
be the Relator.  
Arraigned he must be,  
For that feloniously,  
'thout due solemnity,  
he took a traitor.   

2  
John Bradshaw was his name,  
how it stinks, how it stinks,  
Who'll make with blacker fame,  
Pilate unknown.  
This worse than worst of things  
Condemned the best of kings,  
And what more guilt yet brings,  
knew 'twas his own.   

3  
Virtue in Charles did seem,  
eagerly, eagerly,  
And villainy in him  
to vie for glory;  
Majesty so complete,  
And impudence so great  
Till that time never met.  
But to my Story.   

4  
Accusers there will be  
bitter ones, bitter ones,  
More than one, two, or three,  
all full of spite.  
Hangman, and Tree so tall,  
Bridge, tower, and City-wall,  
Kite and Crow, which were all  
Robbed of their right.   

5  
But Judges none are fit,  
shame it is, shame it is,  
That twice seven years did sit  
to give hemp-stringdom;  
The fiend they would befriend,  
That he might in the end  
To them like favour lend  
in his own kingdom.   

6  
Swordmen it must be you,  
boldly to't, boldly to't,  
Must give the devil his due,  
do it not faintly;  
But as you raised by spell  
Last Parliament from Hell,  
And it again did quell  
omnipotently.   

7  
The charge they wisely frame  
(on with it, on with it)  
In that yet unknown name  
of supreme power.  
Which six weeks hence by vote  
Shall be, or it shall not,  
When Monk's to London got  
In a good hour.   

8  
But twelve good men and true,  
Cavaliers, cavaliers,  
He excepts against you,  
Justice he fears.  
From Bar and Pulpit he  
Craves such as do for fee  
Serve all turns: for he'll be  
Tried by his Peers.   

9  
Satan, y'are guilty found  
by your Peers, by your Peers,  
And must die above ground,  
Look for no pity.  
Some of our Ministry,  
Whose spirits with yours comply,  
As Owen, Caryl, Nye,  
For death shall fit 'ee   

10  
Dread Judges; mine own limb  
I but took, I but took.  
I was forced without him  
to use a Crutch.  
Some of the Robe can tell  
How to supply full well  
His place here but in hell  
I had none such.   

11  
Devil, you are an ass,  
Plain it is, plain it is,  
And weakly plead the case;  
Your wits are lost.  
Some Lawyers will out-doed,  
When shortly they come to't,  
Your craft, our gold to boot,  
They have engrossed   

12  
Should all men take their right,  
Welladay, welladay,  
We were in a sad plight,  
O'th' Holy Party.  
Such practice hath a scent  
Of Kingly government;  
Against it we are bent,  
Out of home-charity.   

13  
But if I die, who am  
King of Hell, King of Hell,  
You will not quench its flame,  
But find it worse;  
Confused Anarchy  
Will a new torment be;  
Ne'er did these Kingdoms three  
Feel such a curse.   

14  
To our promotion Sir,  
there as here, there as here,  
Through some confused stir  
doth the high Road lie.  
In hell we need not fear  
Nor King, nor Cavalier,  
Who then shall domineer  
But we the Godly.   

15  
Truth then, Sirs, which of old  
Was my shame, was my shame,  
shall now to yours be told,  
You caused his death.  
The House being broken by  
Yourselves (there's Burglary)  
Wrath interred forcibly,  
And stopped his breath.   

16  
Sir, as our precedent  
taught by you, taught by you,  
'Gainst the King away went,  
most strange and new:  
Charging him with the guilt  
Of all the blood we spilt,  
With swords up to the hilt,  
so we'll serve you.   

17  
For mercy than I call,  
Good my Lords, good my Lords,  
And traitors I'll leave all  
duly to end it.  
Sir, Sir, 'tis frivolous,  
As well for you as us,  
To beg for mercy thus,  
Our crimes transcend it.   

18  
You must die out of hand,  
Satanas, Satanas,  
This our Decree shall stand,  
without control,  
And we for you will pray,  
Because the Scriptures say,  
When some men curse you, they  
curse their own soul.   

19  
The Fiend to Tiburn's gone,  
There to die, there to die,  
Black is the North anon,  
great storms will be:  
Therefore together now  
I leave him and th' Gallow:  
So news-man take 'em thou,  
Soon they'll take thee.   
Finis, Fustis, Funis.