A strange Sight to be seen at Westminster.  

Within this House is to be seen  
Such a Monster as hath not been  
At any time in England, nay  
In Europe, Africa, Asia:  
'Tis a round body without a head  
Almost these three years, yet not dead.  
'Tis like that beast I once did see  
Whose tail stood where the head should be:  
And (which was never known before)  
Though't want a head, it has horns good store  
It has very little hair, and yet  
(You'll say) it has far more hair than wit:  
'Thas many eyes and many ears,  
'Tis full of jealousies and fears;  
'Thas many mouths, and many hands,  
'Tis full of questions and commands;  
'Tis armed with muskets, pikes, it fears  
Nought in the world, but Cavaliers.  
'Twas born in England, but begot  
Betwix● the English and the Scot;  
Though some are of opinion ●ather  
That the devil was its father;  
And the City (which is worse)  
Was its mother, and its nurse.  
Some say (though perhaps in scorn)  
That it was a Cretian borne;  
But not unlike, for it has the fashion  
Just as may be of that Nation;  
For 'tis a liar, none o'th' least,  
A slow belly, an evil beast;  
Of what Religion none can tell,  
It much resembles that in hell:  
Some say it is a Jew disguised,  
And why? because 'tis circumcised;  
For't was deprived long ago  
Of many a Member we all know.  
In some points▪ is a Jesuited Priest,  
In some it is a Calvinist;  
For 'tis not justified (it saith)  
By good works, but public Faith.  
Some c●…l't an Anabaptist, some  
Think now that Antichrist is come.  
'Tis a creature of an uncouth kind  
Both for its body and its mind;  
Make haste to see't, or'twill be gone,  
For now 'tis sick, and drawing on.    

The State mountebank.  

IF any body-politic  
Of plenty, or of peace be sick,  
there's a physician come to town  
Of far stretched fame, and high renown;  
Though called a mountebank, 'tis meant  
(Both words being French) a Parliament.  
Who from Geneva, and Amsterdam,  
From Germany and Scotland came;  
Now lies in London, but the place  
(If men say true) is in his face.  
His Scaffold stands on Tower hill,  
Where he on Strafford tried his skill;  
Off went his head, you'll think him slain,  
But straight 'twas voted on again.  
Diurnals are his weekly bills  
Which show how many he cures and kills;  
But of th'Errata we'll advise,  
For cure read kill, for truth read lies.  
If any Traitor be diseased  
With a sore neck, and would be eased,  
Here is a pill he calls a Vote,  
Take it extempore, 'twill do't.  
If any conscience be too strict,  
Here's several bills from Lectures picked,  
Which swallowed down, will stretch it full  
As far as 'tis from hence to hull.  
Is any by Religion bound,  
Or Law? and would be looser found,  
Here is a clyster which we call  
His privilege o'er topping all.  
Is any money left or plate,  
Or goods? bring't in at any rate;  
he'll melt three shillings into one,  
And in a minute leave you none.  
Here's powder to inspire your lungs,  
Here's water that unties your tongues;  
(Spite of he Law) 'twill set you free,  
To speak reason only lispingly.  
Here's Leetches, which if well applied,  
And fed, stick closely to your side,  
Till your superfluous blood de●ay,  
Than they will break and drop away.  
But here's a sovereign Antidote  
(Be sure your sovereign never know't)  
Apply it as your Doctor pleases,  
'Twill cure all wounds, and all diseases.  
A drug none (but himself e'er saw.  
'Tis called a Fundamental Law.  
Here's glasses to delude the sight,  
Dark lanterns, here bastard light;  
This (if you conquer) trebles men,  
(If loose▪ an hundred seems but ten.  
Here's Opium to lull asleep,  
And heresy dangerous plots in steep.  
Here stands the safety of the City,  
There hangs the invisible Committee.  
Plundring's the new philosopher's stone,  
Turns wares to gold, and gold to none.  
And here's an Ordinance that shall  
At one full shot enrich us all.  
He's skilled in the mathematics,  
And with his circles can do tricks,  
By raising spirits that can smell  
Plots that are hatched as deep as hell;  
Which only to themselves are known,  
(The devil's ever kind to's own.)  
All this he gratis doth, and saith  
he'll only take the public faith.  
Flock to him then, make no delay,  
The next fair wind he must away.   
Finis.   

Oxford, Printed for Wil. Web. 1643.