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         T. A., Sir, perfumer to his late Highnesse.
      
       
         This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A25585 of text R746 in the  English Short Title Catalog (Wing A34). Textual changes  and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more  computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life.  The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with  MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish.  This text has not been fully proofread 
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         EarlyPrint Project
         Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO
         2017
         A25585
         Wing A34
         ESTC R746
         12880440
         ocm 12880440
         94922
         
           
            This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of
             Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal
            . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
          
        
      
       
         Early English books online.
      
       
         (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A25585)
         Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 94922)
         Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1:7 or 21241:191)
      
       
         
           
             Rump rampant, or, The sweet old cause in sippits set out by Sir T.A., perfumer to His late Highnesse, to the tune of, Last Parliament sat as snugg as a cat.
             T. A., Sir, perfumer to his late Highnesse.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.)
           
             s.n.,
             [London :
             1660]
          
           
             Place and date of publication from BM.
             Reproductions of originals in Harvard University Libraries and British Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
         eng
      
       
         
           Political ballads and songs -- England -- Texts.
           English poetry -- 17th century.
           Political poetry, English.
           Broadsides -- England -- 17th century.
        
      
    
       A25585  R746  (Wing A34).  civilwar no Rump rampant, or the sweet old cause in sippits: set out by Sir T.A. perfumer to his late Highnesse. To the tune of, Last Parliament sat as T. A., Sir, perfumer to his late Highnesse 1660    613 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text  has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription.  
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           RUMP
           RAMPANT
           ,
           OR
           THE
           Sweet
           Old
           Cause
           in
           sippits
           :
           Set
           out
           by
           Sir
           T.
           A.
           Perfumer
           to
           his
           late
           Highnesse
           .
        
         
           To
           the
           Tune
           of
           ,
           Last
           Parliament
           sat
           as
           snugg
           as
           a
           Cat
           .
        
         
           
             IN
             the
             name
             of
             the
             fiend
             ,
             what
             the
             Rump
             up
             agin
             ,
          
           
             The
             Delk
             ,
             and
             the
             good
             old
             cause
             ,
          
           
             If
             they
             settle
             agin
             ,
             which
             to
             think
             were
             a
             sin
             ,
          
           
             Good-night
             to
             Religion
             and
             Laws
             .
          
        
         
           
             First
             Tithes
             must
             go
             down
             like
             a
             sprig
             of
             the
             Crown
             ,
          
           
             Although
             J.
             Presbiter
             grumble
             ;
          
           
             Already
             they
             tell
             's
             our
             Lead
             and
             our
             Bells
          
           
             They
             'l
             sell
             ,
             next
             our
             Churches
             must
             tumble
             .
          
        
         
           
             This
             poor
             
               English
            
             Nation
             ,
             by
             this
             Generation
          
           
             Hath
             been
             grieved
             11.
             years
             and
             more
             ,
          
           
             But
             in
             that
             season
             ,
             and
             not
             without
             reason
             ,
          
           
             They
             ha'thrice
             been
             turnd
             out
             of
             door
             .
          
        
         
           
             Which
             they
             please
             to
             call
             force
             ,
             yet
             themselves
             can
             do
             worse
             ,
          
           
             For
             this
             Piercel
             of
             a
             House
          
           
             Dare
             keep
             out
             of
             door
             ,
             thrice
             as
             many
             more
             ,
          
           
             And
             value
             the
             Law
             not
             a
             Louse
             .
          
        
         
           
             First
             by
             Owl-light
             they
             met
             ,
             and
             by
             that
             light
             they
             set
             ,
          
           
             The
             reason
             of
             it
             mark
             ,
          
           
             Their
             acts
             and
             the
             light
             ,
             do
             differ
             quite
             ,
          
           
             Their
             deeds
             do
             best
             with
             the
             dark
             .
          
        
         
           
             Esquire
             
               Lenthall
            
             had
             swore
             ,
             he
             'd
             sit
             there
             no
             more
             ,
          
           
             Unlesse
             in
             with
             Oxen
             they
             drew
             him
             ,
          
           
             That
             he
             once
             might
             speak
             true
             ,
             they
             pick'd
             him
             out
             two
             ,
          
           
             Sent
             
               Pembrook
            
             and
             
               Salisbury
            
             to
             him
             .
          
        
         
           
             When
             these
             Gamsters
             were
             pack'd
             ,
             the
             first
             gracious
             act
          
           
             Was
             for
             pence
             for
             their
             friends
             of
             the
             Army
             ,
          
           
             Who
             for
             any
             side
             fight
             ,
             except't
             be
             the
             right
             ;
          
           
             Sixscore
             thousand
             a
             month
             won't
             harm
             ye
             .
          
        
         
           
             Yet
             many
             there
             be
             ,
             say
             the
             House
             is
             not
             free
             ,
          
           
             When
             I
             am
             sure
             of
             that
             ,
          
           
             
             T'one
             another
             they
             are
             so
             free
             ,
             that
             the
             Nation
             do
             see
             ,
          
           
             Their
             too
             free
             for
             us
             to
             be
             fat
             .
          
        
         
           
             Religion
             they
             wav'd
             ,
             now
             they
             had
             us
             enslav'd
          
           
             And
             got
             us
             sure
             in
             their
             Claw
             ,
          
           
             They
             puld
             of
             their
             mask
             ,
             and
             set
             us
             our
             task
             ,
          
           
             Which
             is
             next
             to
             make
             Brick
             without
             Straw
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             next
             act
             they
             made
             ,
             was
             for
             helping
             of
             Trade
             ,
          
           
             So
             they
             settled
             again
             the
             Excise
             ,
          
           
             Which
             the
             City
             must
             pay
             ,
             for
             ever
             and
             aye
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             might
             have
             chose
             had
             they
             been
             wise
             .
          
        
         
           
             To
             pull
             down
             their
             K.
             their
             plate
             they
             could
             bring
             ,
          
           
             And
             other
             precious
             things
             ,
          
           
             So
             that
             
               Segwick
            
             and
             
               Peters
               ,
            
             were
             no
             small
             getters
          
           
             By
             their
             bodkins
             ,
             thimbles
             and
             rings
             .
          
        
         
           
             But
             when
             for
             the
             good
             of
             the
             Nation
             't
             was
             stood
          
           
             Half
             ruined
             and
             forlorne
             ,
          
           
             Though
             't
             lay
             in
             their
             power
             ,
             to
             redeem
             't
             in
             an
             hour
             ,
          
           
             Not
             a
             Citizen
             put
             out
             his
             horn
             .
          
        
         
           
             They
             had
             manacled
             their
             hands
             ,
             with
             Kings
             &
             Bishops
             Lands
             ,
          
           
             And
             ruin'd
             the
             whole
             Nation
             ,
          
           
             So
             that
             no body
             cares
             ,
             though
             they
             and
             their
             heirs
             ,
          
           
             Be
             Cornute
             to
             the
             third
             generation
             .
          
        
         
           
             May
             their
             wives
             on
             them
             frown
             ,
             but
             laugh
             and
             lie
             down
             ,
          
           
             To
             any
             one
             else
             turn
             up
             Trump
             ,
          
           
             To
             mend
             the
             breed
             ,
             as
             I
             think
             there
             is
             need
          
           
             Be
             rid
             like
             their
             men
             by
             the
             Rump
             .
          
        
         
           
             And
             may
             these
             wise
             Sophees
             ,
             pay
             again
             for
             their
             Trophees
             ,
          
           
             For
             I
             hope
             the
             Parliament
             means
          
           
             (
             Now
             they
             ha'
             been
             at
             the
             costs
             ,
             to
             set
             up
             the
             posts
             )
          
           
             To
             make
             them
             pay
             well
             for
             the
             Chains
             .
          
        
         
           THE
           RUMP
        
      
    
    

