THE CITY'S Warning-piece, IN The MALIGNANT'S description and Conversion: OR, The ROUND-HEAD turned POET.  
Where a Feast of Prose and Verse invites Curiosity to be nibbling.  

Written long since, but Printed in the Year  
That every knave and fool turned Cavaleere.    

The City's Warning-piece: IN The MALIGNANT'S Description and Conversion.  Cic. 
GOod morrow Sir.  Gloc. 
Good morrow.  Cic. 
Do not you know me?  Glo. 
No, What art thou?  Ci. 
A Rascal, any thing that may deserve the name of fool or knave, or thief, or murderer; I'm justly liable to all the scornthat truth can cast upon ignorance and malice, I am a slave, abeggar.  Gl. 
Hold I pray thee, whither wilt thou run?  Cic. 
Why, I'll run my country, and glad I may scape so, for I have neither friends, nor means, nor honesty, nor any thing that is good left, neither within or without me, I am indeed a Malignant, an enemy to God, my King, my Country, nay to myself, my wife, my children, every body.  Gl. 
And why art thou so?  Cic. 
Faith 'tis a curse that God hath laid upon me for my sins, that's all I can see in't. Sir I perceive you know not what it is to be a malignant,  Gl. 
No.  Ci. 
Why 'tis to be a devil in the shape of a man, one that despiseth all manner of goodness, cries down all that speak well, and hates all that do well, he cannot abide Parliamen, lest a reformation should force him to amendment of life, and so save his soul, he loves not the Laws because he loves to do that for which the Laws would hang him: He lives every where and takes all shapes upon him. I have heard it credibly reported that there is not a parish in the City clear of him, and he hath so dispersed his poison in the Suburbs, that but few have escaped the infection. He is sometimes a Gallant, sometimes a Merchant, sometimes a Mecanich, but always a Rascal.  Gl. 
It seems you hate your own condition and repent.  Ci. 
Yes, I do repent now 'tis too late.  Gl. 
Too late, that cannot be.  Ci. 
Yes yes, all's gone, I am robbed, undone, plundered, pillaged, the Cavaliers, the Thiefs, the Rogues, the Rebbels have taken all away, and left me nothing but too late repentance.  Gl. 
Pray open a little the story of your miseries, that I may know how to pity you.  Ci. 
Sir your pity I neither deserve nor desire, but if you please I'll tell you that shall make you hate me, I was of late a Cycesterian where I had good means, & lived in the best fashion, but my honest neighbours could never persuade me to the truth, I loved pleasure and folly, feared nothing more than to be godly, delighted most in the basest company, for none could ever give me such content, as those that have now undone me, he that would swear loudly, & drink stoutly I called my associate, and he that talked of piety or Prayer my enemy: Thus when I might have lived well I neglected it, and now I must live ill because I cannot help it.  Gl. 
Then you were in the Town when 'twas lost.  Ci. 
Yes I was one of them.  Gl. 
And how came you off?  Ci. 
Why by running away, the truth is, I built so much upon mineown malignant merit, that having holp the Rogues to rob many of my neighbours, at length I was forced to do the like by myself; I stood off a while and pleaded malignancy, gave as good words as I could, that my bad actions might prosper, I told them that I was as bad as they, and swore it, railed upon the Parliament, cursed all Roundheads and Puritans, rapt out 5. or 6. oaths with as much grace as was possible for such agracelesse villain, all would not do, they answered that they were accustomed to that kind of cozenage and made me work on, so when I had laboured to load all my goods for Oxford, I watched my opportunity, and never any man parted so joyfully from that he loved so dear.  Gl. 
It seems then you were faulty in this business.  Ci. 
yes, and deserve to be hanged for't. Sir shall I tell you, had there been in our Town of Cicester, half so many Roundheads as there were Malignants the Town had never been taken, for they used all possible means they could to defend it, and we that were the major part (out of mere malice to them) did what we could to betray it: How we were betwitcht I know not, but for my part I find myself so changed, that I am confident I was either enchanted then, or am inspired now.  Gl. 
How mean you by that?  Ci. 
I see with other eyes me thinks, my affections & thoughts are changed, I hate that I loved, and I love that I hated, Justice and truth appear fair and amiable, and vice and villainy odious. In brief I like so well the name of a Christian, that (for all my lost wealth) I would not be again an Egyptian.  Gl. 
A good change, and now you begin to know yourself, I shall begin to know you, be resolute in this, and your gain exceeds your loss.  

Seek heavenly treasure, and you need no more,  
He that God hates for sin is only poor.   Ci. 
How long have you been a poet?  Gl. 
As long as you have been a convert, you see this age is full of changes, but indeed this whimsy took me at the first discovery of the black clouds that have bred all these Tempests, when I saw distraction in the face of the Kingdom, I could no longer contain myself, but grew mad too, and fell to making verses.  Ci. 
Sir shall I be beholding to you?  Gl. 
For what?  Ci. 
If your leisure will serve you, I pray repeat some of them.  Gl. 
That I dare do to you, because I fear not your censure, besides, though they were made two or three years since, yet because they have some affinity with the times, you shall hear them.  

NOw is the net laid, and the tempting bait  
disperct with Jesuitical deceit:  
The Pope (o'erjoyed) of victory doth vaunt,  
and the cry goes, Down with the Protestant:  
'Tis a brave world, the Soldier domineers,  
Neighbours and friends, together by the ears  
Are set, to rape and murder is the way  
Laid open, goodness doth become a prey  
As well as goods to policy, that dives  
Both into good men's pockets and their lives:  
Ignorance plays the Ass, bears all, and ties  
His tongue to silence, Reformation dies  
By innovations council in his youth,  
for fear he should yet strength and maintain truth.  
Why what an age is this? who shall we trust?  
When we to oneanother prove unjust?  
Why should we damn the Spaniard and the Turk,  
When homebred malice strives to take the work  
Out of their hands? nay to exceed them far,  
For private plots are worse than open War.   Ci. 
Now in my mind these are admirable good lines, and as fit for the times, as if they had been made but yesterday, another of these good Sir.  Gl. 
I confess I have another or two, but they are somewhat further off, yet since they are not altogether impertinent, and that I perceive such toys are effectual to revive your melancholy and drooping spirits, you shall have them.  

The Spanish Fleet in the Downs.  
BRave Dons or DonZelles, welcome, now we find  
That ye are far beyond our merits kind:  
Else had ye not thus spent five months and more  
At Sea, in hope to hug us on the Shore  
At last, and find an entertainment meet  
For the Commanders of so brave a Fleet.  
You know our hearts, we yours, no odds appears,  
Since there doth only run a pair of shears  
Twixt our Religions, Rome, and Spain, and we  
Put all together, make but one of three:  
And shall you fear us, or shall we fear you?  
Tush, Spain is England, England is Spain now:  
Our harbours are your own, and the next Spring  
A fresh supply will make us any thing.  
Paul's for your sakes is almost newly built,  
And 'tis not long since Cheapside-crosse was gilded.  
Old Charing shall be now re-edified  
That lost his glory when old Chaucer died:  
And the brave western buildings, that for sight  
Put down their neighbour City London quite,  
Are at your service, Fate ordained they should  
' Tincrease the reverend Roman neighbourhood,  
For for Saint Peter's sake  almost all  
Forsook our dwellings, near decayed Saint Paul,  
And our Religions too, as you would wish,  
And like yourselves keep days of flesh and fish,  
Though we are neither; 
Witness the Book of sports & Sunday no Sabbath.  we are in the way  
Of giving over quite our Sabbath day:  
Not knowing (till of late) that 'twas more fit  
To sanctify an Holy day than it;  
And lest we should be still incredulous  
Of Purgatory, they have tricks with us  
To make us feel it living: but no doubt  
Your presence and your prayers will help us out.   Gl. 
So what do you think of this, are you satisfied now?  Ci. 
Sir I am pleased but not satisfied, of that I like best, I always desire most, but Sir by your favour me thinks 'tis strange that there is nothing in these lines touching the confusion of this Spanish Fleet.  Gl. 
If that will give you such content you shall have it by and by, for the truth is, these were made (such as they are), at the Fleets first coming into the Downs.  
O how I long to hear of the confusion of those that plot and endeavour the destruction of this poor Kingdom!  

Here's no dissimulation, not a jot:  
We shall be Protestants still, shall we not?  
Yes, yes, be confident the Bishop's doom  
Will shift Religion but from room to Rome.  
The Protestant and Papist shall not vary,  
But love together, go to Church and marry  
At the high Altar, unto which they bow  
With equal show of Superstition now.  
The vulgar voice derived from vulgar fears,  
Ready to set together by the ears  
Those that have any left, affright the sage  
With rumour of an Innovating Age.  
Old 88 (for sooth) is not for got,  
Nor yet (alas) the failing powder-plot:  
And now to mend the matter, they defcrie  
Twixt Spain and England other knavery  
Made manifest (as they conceive) of late,  
By agreat Fleet that met a grievous Fate.  
The Scots rebel, the English murmur, why?  
It seems they see and hate Idolatry  
Now crept into the Church. The Papists cry  
With voice exalted, Rome and Victory.  
Civil dissension with the noise she makes,  
Startles the valiant, Britain now partakes  
The fears of Germany, and just Heaven knows,  
It merits to participate her woes.  
This MaZerunnes rumour, these fantasmas fright  
Those that profess the Gospel, and delight  
To be styled Heretics, but they are vain  
And idle fancies, we are friends with Spain,  
And Spain with us, there's no confederacy,  
Nor private contract (more than ought to be)  
Betwixt the great ones: or suppose there should,  
Dare we not trust God if our cause be good?  
This huge Fleet came to sport upon the Main,  
And for no other purpose sent from Spain,  
But to become a Royal Offering,  
At Neptune's Altar, the great Ocean's King.  
Their business is dispatched with all content,  
(Though per adventure better than they meant)  
From what they seem to us, things differ far,  
God makes the end show truly what they are.   
What think you of this?  Ci. 
Good, excellent good.  Gl. 
So I have that I looked for.  

Poet's must needs grow rich with their vast gains,  
When they can purchase praise for all their pains.   
But now I have done this at your entreaty, I'll make bold to entreat you to hear a little further: I have yet a few other lines that were written in almost as mad a fit as you were when I met you, here they are.  

Why how now Muse, confounded by the times,  
Whose manners mar the manner of thy rhymes?  
Is all in a combustion, that thy vain  
Discovers the distemper of a brain,  
So suitable? why what have we to do.  
With commonwealths, not yet invited to  
The meanest office, fie let eminence  
Regard the good, that hopes the recompense.  
What if the Pope prevail, the State decline?  
Mines not the fault, make not the mischief mine.  
How should the soldier thrive if sweet content  
Were to be purchased by a Parliament?  
How should long Robes still flourish as they do,  
If bad Church Government were looked into?  
How should the Lawyer purchase, if a bribe  
Were held infectious in the thrifty tribe?  
Come, Come, great men have privilege to draw  
From their own wills decrees above the law.  
The poor must suffer, and not dare to grudge  
At the false sentence of a wicked judge.  
Religion, justice, Truth, all out of use,  
May now go whistle, there's no such abuse  
Among so great, so many, as to know  
From whence these miser able mischiefs grow,  
Still lives the cause, and still the grief survives,  
Malice more potent grows, though knowledge thrives;  
Endeavours prosper not, the hate to sin  
Is not of force sufficient to bring in  
Neglected piety, vice i'the head  
Keeps virtue under foot, as good as dead:  
Ignorance only hath the fate to be  
From grief and fear, but not from danger free.   
I am sorry I have nothing but thanks to give you for so large an expression of love to me, but if my service may in any thing be acceptable I shall for this free favour be ever willing to be commanded by you.  

Be your own friend hereafter, understand  
The Truth, and fight for't, this is my command.   
FINIS.