A pretty well dressed Dish of Petites, cooked at Westminster, with great charge at the cost of three Kingdoms: Also here are other Delicates, which may be well tasted and digested in the Palates and Punches of Royalists and Loyalists.  

Pretty Parliament, has it voted?  
Pretty Preachers have you throated,  
Charles 〈…〉 ●…wne.  
We hope e'er long the time w●… 〈◊〉  
Your Donships shall receive your doom,  
And the Devil his own.  
Pretty Ashburnham and Barkley,  
If fame (of you) tell not a stark lie,  
You make one Traitor  
Betwixt you at least, and have out done;  
The Devil and the Devil's son  
The Agitator.  
Pretty Synod, does it sit,  
Void of grace as well of wit?  
And make no Cannons;  
But such as Ordinance are called,  
Which hath the very souls enthralld  
of every Manon's.  
Now from black Tom, and blacker Noll,  
That kill and slay without control,  
Thereby to end us  

Thos. jolley Esqr. F. S. A.   
From the Synods nonsense, and their Treason,  
And from their Catechistick reason,  
Good Heaven defend us.    

Thanks to the Right Honourable, the Earl of Northumberland, for his late Vote in behalf of his MAJESTY.  

ALL Hail (brave Percy) once Great Admiral!  
We thought thee a fixed star till thou didst fall;  
And 〈…〉  
 
Or dire revenge did through thee from thy Sphere.  
And) of an Angel) make a Lucifer,  
Till thou to bleating Warwick didst resign  
Thy Trident, thou wert th' Ocean's God, and mine;  
For till that time my 〈◊〉 thoughts with thee  
Committed serious Idolatry,  
And my esteem of thee, was then as high  
As were thy merits, or thy dignity;  
But thou wast Mortal Percy, and we find  
Tall Ceadars oft borne down by popular wind  
Thus (hurried with the crowd) thou didst withdraw,  
(As the most did) thy Fealty, and Awe  
From thy dear● Ma●ter, who to thine and thee  
Showed always more of Love then Majesty:  
Which doth improove thy guilt, and makes it far  
More legible, in too great a Character;  
But if thy conscience hath given thee the cheeck,  
And Israel hath conquered Amalec;  
If God will not, thou shouldst be carried on,  
I' the common nutry of damnation;  
Welcome Blest Convert to thy King, and God  
Thy pardon's signed, if thou'lt but kiss the Rod,  
Take these impressions then (my Lord) let none  
Betray the Honour twice of Algernone:  
Care not what poyson-whispering Say suggests,  
Who (for his ends) both Law and Scripture wrists:  
Who plays a most religious Devil's part;  
A Saint in speech, a Satan in his heart:  
An Hypocrite in grain, makes ill seem well,  
To whom old Nick, surnamed Machiavelli,  
Achitophel, or cursed Iscariot,  
These (paralleled with him) were each a sot,  
Be deaf to that Damcced Siron, here permit  
Him to your secrets, or soul's Cabinet;  
Be not afraid of that confused Yell,  
Which belches out Rebellion, as Hell  
Doth Surphurs': Nor dread th' usurped power  
Can vote 3 Kingdom's ruin in one hour;  
Care not for what they do, or what they say  
What Pembroke, or your Brother Sarum Bray,  
That fine wise Acre, who does value more  
His Acres then his honour, does adore  
Mammon for's God, or's King, though 'tis well known  
What the Cecillians own to England's Crown.  
Be true to thy own Charles, and by this feat  
Make good thy true descent from Charles the Great;  
Put on thy Loyal Robes, and we will Saint thee,  
A Loyal Percy is not each days dainty.    

The State of England, or Lilburnes Parliament.  
WHEREIN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS ARE THE SUPREME POWER.  

THey the supremest power (O how good John!)  
Whence sprung this pretty new Dominion?  
From revelation or from ecstasy,  
This upstart mushroom foist supremacy.  
Call in the Heralds (John) for ere we part,  
I will rip up the bowels of their Art;  
But I will know how, and when those Daws,  
Grew Masters of our King, our Lives, our Laws.  
Are they not English, Yes: Not Subjects, No?  
Nay then I leave 'em Gentiles, yet not so.  
Can a hoarse Cobbler, or a Weavers Votes  
Create you Kings? do Crowns grow in their throats?  
(I wish they would in my purse) can they carry't  
Upon the strength of Roast Beef, and burnt Claret▪  
If these two be th' ingredients of a King,  
He eat him all myself, or Marriot bring.    

A salutation to the Londoners.  

THe City Lantern, quickly; I'd feign see,  
Where is the Kings or Subjects Liberty;  
The one in care, in Caresborough captived,  
The other tongue-tied, manacled, and gyv'de  
In sundry Prisons. O most rare and base!  
This is the Parliaments especial Grace.  
Free men of London, 'tis a lie; you're slaves  
To Westminster, and (worse) to your own knaves,  
Which in the mother Saxon signifies  
A Servant; so you all are Gregory's:  
And like to be so still, unless the fear  
Of plunder (more than God) your souls do rear  
Into a posture of defence; and rouse  
Your craft-falne spirits; and cast off the drowze  
And lethargy has seized you; O is night  
So heavy on you, and this weight so light?  
Do ye hug your fetters, and court slavery?  
Then take them for your pains: 'tis fit that ye  
Should Still be pleased, the Cooks o'th' Parliament  
Know well your Diet; both what you resent  
And what you like, but see they serve not in  
(For the last dish) Damnation for your sin.  
Has God (to pay your base and groundless fears)  
Made Idols of you, not idolaters?  
You stand like statues all; you gape and mope,  
As if you begged massacre, or the rope:  
Which you (poor souls) had reason long to fear,  
(Know you one Tompkins? and one chaloner?)  
But is it not prodigious that one man  
Should strike and drag this great Leviathan?  
Speed him to Green-land quickly, or he'll spoil  
The Towns whole store, both of the Ribs, and Oil:  
Thou boughtst thy slavery with thy coin and plate,  
And shalt beg slavish bread from gate to gate,  
Except thou stand up bravely and prevent it,  
You and your Heirs forever will repent it;  
You shall be common Rogues, and know no King  
That might protect you from a ruining;  
You have been Parliament all Hackney Naggs,  
Treason hath been supported by your bags,  
Knaves, Fools, and Mad men, that so swift did run  
To mischief, and desired to be undone;  
Yet for all this take courage, now's the time,  
Allegiance expiates all former crime,  
Be wise and Loyal now, or else thy doom  
Is fixed in Heaven, this thy day is come.    

Shelton junior, or the second part of Collen Cloute, a warning piece to the City of London.  

O Cives, Cives, look well to your Wives,  
And to your God Mammon,  
Or he that rules Hammond  
And all England to boot,  
Will shortly put you to't,  
And for all you great brags  
He will crumble your bags,  
And for all your great hopes  
Will plunder your shops,  
And make a new fair  
Of pure London ware,  
And of the Religion  
Will make a mere Widgion;  
Then poor Jack Presbyter  
Must fall with the Mitre:  
And in the conclusion  
Cry welcome confusion.    

A Prophecy.  

When Mounseir Noll, that Pass Partout  
Shall mount his Pass Vent,  
Attended with his Rebel Rout,  
Then London shall be shent.    

A Prayer for all Lay-Elders.  

LET them be grave, and solid, as are blocks,  
And let them take Nonsense for Orthodox;  
Let jealousies possess them day and night,  
Let them be heavy, and their Wives be light;  
O let there always Sects and brabbling be  
To Vex and trouble the Presbytery:  
Let all their sons (at one and twenty years)  
Prove arrant fools, and have extended ears,  
As large as Ceres ever gave to Corns,  
And be more noted than their Father's horns;  
O let no spark of modesty be scene  
In any of their Daughters at foreteene;  
But let the threshold of their Father's door  
Be evermore bestriden with a Whore,  
And least (there should want Vice) to correct all,  
Let all their Families to lewdness fall  
And let them all appear before the King  
Receive their sentence, face about and swing.    

A Prayer for our Friends at Westminster.  

YOU Mountebanks of State, long may you live  
To take such Physic as yourselves did give;  
May you have war, and may the sword destroy  
Your Families, and may you ne'er enjoy  
The benefits of Peace; may ye feel the Rod  
And till ye have peace with'e King, have none with God.  
FINIS.