







 
   
     
       
         A dog's elegy, or, Rvpert's tears, for the late defeat given him at Marstonmoore, neer York, by the three renowned generalls; Alexander Earl of Leven, general of the Scottish forces, Fardinando, Lord Fairefax, and the Earle of Manchester generalls of the English Forces in the North. Where his beloved dog, named Boy, was killed by a valiant souldier, who had skill in necromancy. Likewise the strange breed of this shagg'd cavalier, whelp'd of a malignant water-witch; with all his tricks, and feats. Sad Cavaliers, Rupert invites you all that does survive, to his dogs funerall. Close-mourners are the witch, Pope, & devill, that much lament ye'r late befallen evill.
      
       
         This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A81604 of text R3732 in the  English Short Title Catalog (Thomason E3_17). 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 
       Approx. 17 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 5 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images.
       
         EarlyPrint Project
         Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO
         2017
         A81604
         Wing D1830
         Thomason E3_17
         ESTC R3732
         99872477
         99872477
         154679
         
           
            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. A81604)
         Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 154679)
         Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 1:E3[17])
      
       
         
           
             A dog's elegy, or, Rvpert's tears, for the late defeat given him at Marstonmoore, neer York, by the three renowned generalls; Alexander Earl of Leven, general of the Scottish forces, Fardinando, Lord Fairefax, and the Earle of Manchester generalls of the English Forces in the North. Where his beloved dog, named Boy, was killed by a valiant souldier, who had skill in necromancy. Likewise the strange breed of this shagg'd cavalier, whelp'd of a malignant water-witch; with all his tricks, and feats. Sad Cavaliers, Rupert invites you all that does survive, to his dogs funerall. Close-mourners are the witch, Pope, & devill, that much lament ye'r late befallen evill.
             Taylor, John, 1580-1653.
          
           [8] p.
           
             for G. B.,
             Printed at London, :
             July 27. 1644.
          
           
             Perhaps by John Taylor, the water poet. cf. NUC pre-1956.
             Reproduction of the original in the British Library.
             In verse.
          
        
      
    
     
       
         eng
      
       
         
           Rupert, -- Prince, Count Palatine, 1619-1682 -- Early works to 1800.
           Leven, Alexander Leslie, -- Earl of, 1580?-1661 -- Early works to 1800.
           Fairfax, Ferdinando Fairfax, -- Baron, 1584-1648 -- Early works to 1800.
           Manchester, Edward Montagu, -- Earl of, 1602-1671 -- Early works to 1800.
           Royalists -- England -- History -- 17th century -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800.
        
      
    
       A81604  R3732  (Thomason E3_17).  civilwar no A dog's elegy, or, Rvpert's tears,:  for the late defeat given him at Marstonmoore, neer York, by the three renowned generalls; Alexander Ea Taylor, John 1644    2453 10 0 0 0 0 0 41 D  The  rate of 41 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 
        2008-03 TCP
        Assigned for keying and markup
      
        2008-05 SPi Global
        Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images
      
        2008-07 Mona Logarbo
        Sampled and proofread
      
        2008-07 Mona Logarbo
        Text and markup reviewed and edited
      
        2008-09 pfs
        Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
      
    
  
   
     
       
       
         
           A
           DOGS
           ELEGY
           ,
           OR
           RVPERTS
           TEARS
           ,
           For
           the
           late
           Defeat
           given
           him
           at
           
             Marston-moore
             ,
          
           neer
           
             York
             ,
          
           by
           the
           Three
           Renowned
           Generalls
           ;
           
             Alexander
             Earl
             of
          
           Leven
           ,
           
             Generall
             of
             the
             Scottish
             Forces
             ,
          
           Fardinando
           
             Lord
          
           Fairefax
           ,
           
             and
             the
             Earle
             of
          
           Manchester
           
             Generalls
             of
             the
          
           English
           
             Forces
             in
             the
             North
             .
          
        
         
           Where
           his
           beloved
           Dog
           ,
           named
           
             BOY
             ,
          
           was
           killed
           by
           a
           Valliant
           Souldier
           ,
           who
           had
           skill
           in
           
             Necromancy
             .
          
        
         
           
             Likewise
             the
             strange
             breed
             of
             this
             Shagg'd
          
           Cavalier
           ,
           
             whelp'd
             of
             a
             Malignant
          
           Water-witch
           ;
           
             With
             all
             his
             Tricks
             ,
             and
             Feats
             .
          
        
         
         
           
             Sad
             Cavaliers
             ,
             
               Rupert
            
             invites
             you
             all
          
           
             That
             doe
             survive
             ,
             to
             his
             Dogs
             Funerall
             .
          
           
             Close-mourners
             are
             the
             Witch
             ,
             Pope
             ,
             &
             devill
             ,
          
           
             That
             much
             lament
             yo'r
             late
             befallen
             evill
             .
          
        
         
           Printed
           at
           
             London
             ,
          
           for
           
             G.
             B.
          
           July
           27.
           1644.
           
        
      
    
     
       
       
       
         
           
             A
             Dogg's
             Elegie
             ,
          
           OR
           
             RVPERTS
          
           Tears
           .
        
         
           
             LAment
             poor
             
               Caevaliers
               ,
            
             cry
             ,
             howl
             and
             yelp
          
           
             For
             the
             great
             losse
             of
             your
             
               Malignant
               Whelp
               ,
            
          
           
             Hee
             's
             dead
             !
             Hee
             's
             dead
             ?
             No
             more
             alas
             can
             he
          
           
             Protect
             you
             
               Dammes
               ,
            
             or
             get
             Victorie
             .
          
        
         
           
             How
             sad
             that
             
               Son
            
             of
             
               Blood
            
             did
             look
             to
             hear
          
           
             One
             tell
             the
             death
             of
             this
             shagg'd
             
               Cavalier
               ,
            
             
          
           
             Hee
             rav'd
             ,
             he
             tore
             his
             Perriwigg
             ,
             and
             swore
             ,
          
           
             Against
             the
             Round-heads
             that
             hee
             'd
             ne're
             fight
             more
             :
          
           
             Close
             couch'd
             ,
             as
             in
             a
             field
             of
             
               Beanes
            
             he
             lay
             ,
             
          
           
             Cursing
             and
             banning
             all
             that
             live-long
             day
             ;
          
           
             Thousands
             of
             Devills
             Ramme
             me
             into
             Hell
             ,
          
           
             Or
             may
             I
             live
             and
             die
             an
             Infidell
             ,
          
           
             The
             Day
             's
             quite
             lost
             ,
             wee
             are
             all
             confounded
             ,
          
           
             And
             made
             a
             prey
             to
             ev'ry
             paltry
             
               Roundhead
               ;
            
          
        
         
           
             Just
             Heav'n
             had
             so
             Decreed
             ,
             as
             it
             fell
             out
             ,
          
           
             The
             
               Cavaliers
            
             receiv'd
             a
             finall
             Rout.
          
           
             
               Manchester
               ,
               Leslie
               ,
               Fairefax
            
             weares
             the
             
               Bay
               .
            
             
          
           
             And
             
               Crumwell
            
             crown'd
             chief
             Victor
             of
             the
             Day
             ;
          
           
             VVhile
             thousands
             weltring
             in
             their
             blood
             ,
             did
             lie
          
           
             VVeary
             of
             life
             ,
             and
             yet
             afraid
             to
             die
             .
          
        
         
           
             But
             for
             to
             tell
             of
             this
             Bl●ck
             
               Water-witch
               ,
            
             
          
           
             That
             puppy'd
             was
             of
             a
             Malignant
             
               Bitch
               ,
            
          
           
             Or
             
               Hagge
               ,
            
             so
             cunning
             in
             her
             Art
             ,
             that
             shee
          
           
             VValk'd
             under
             earth
             〈◊〉
             in
             the
             aire
             〈◊〉
             flie
             ,
             
          
           
             Sell
             windes
             she
             could
             ,
             command
             the
             Ebb
             or
             Tide
             ,
          
           
             Raise
             Foggs
             ,
             give
             Spells
             or
             on
             the
             Clowds
             could
             ride
             ,
          
           
             For
             Magick
             ,
             Sorcery
             ,
             Charme
             or
             Evill
             ,
          
           
             She
             well
             ,
             
               might
            
             〈…〉
             to
             th'
             Devill
             .
          
        
         
         
           
             This
             Witch
             one
             night
             ,
             late
             ,
             picking
             banefull
             Drugs
             ,
          
           
             
             Meeting
             grim
             
               Brenno
               ,
            
             us'd
             to
             suck
             her
             duggs
             ,
          
           
             In
             shape
             of
             a
             young
             stripling
             
               Dammy
               Blade
               ,
            
          
           
             For
             Whoredome
             ,
             Murder
             ,
             and
             for
             Rapine
             made
             ,
          
           
             For
             all
             the
             world
             ,
             some
             say
             ,
             just
             such
             another
          
           
             That
             used
             to
             call
             Prince
             
               Maurice
            
             brother
             :
          
           
             Thus
             shee
             Accoasted
             him
             ,
             What
             Forme
             is
             this
          
           
             Thou
             hast
             assum'd
             
               Brenno
               ?
            
             By
             the
             
               Abysse
               ,
            
          
           
             My
             blood
             rebells
             more
             powerfull
             then
             my
             
               Charmes
               ,
            
          
           
             Till
             I
             doe
             lodge
             thee
             in
             my
             twined
             armes
             .
          
        
         
           
             
             No
             sooner
             had
             shee
             spake
             ,
             but
             a
             black
             clowde
          
           
             VVith
             duskie
             curtains
             did
             them
             both
             enshrowde
             ,
          
           
             VVhere
             was
             begotten
             this
             Malignant
             Curr
             ,
          
           
             VVho
             in
             this
             
               Iland
            
             hath
             made
             all
             this
             stirre
             .
          
        
         
           
             Full
             thrice
             three
             yeears
             within
             her
             cursed
             wombe
             ,
          
           
             He
             did
             remaine
             ,
             ere
             he
             to
             light
             did
             come
             :
          
           
             The
             long'd
             for
             houre
             is
             come
             ,
             most
             strange
             to
             tell
             ,
          
           
             The
             
               Furies
            
             straight
             about
             their
             businesse
             fell
             ;
          
           
             
               Megera
            
             midwife
             was
             to
             this
             strange
             Fiend
             ,
          
           
             For
             whose
             delivery
             all
             the
             
               Haggs
            
             attend
             :
          
           
             Thunder
             and
             Earth
             quakes
             such
             a
             noise
             did
             make
             ,
          
           
             As
             if
             Heavens
             
               Axletree
            
             in
             sunder
             brake
             ,
          
           
             And
             either
             
               Poles
               ,
            
             their
             heads
             together
             pash'd
             ,
          
           
             As
             all
             againe
             they
             had
             to
             
               Chaos
            
             dash'd
             :
          
           
             Then
             was
             a
             noise
             ,
             as
             if
             the
             Garden
             Beares
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             the
             Doggs
             together
             by
             the
             Eares
             ,
          
           
             And
             those
             in
             
               Bedlam
            
             had
             inlarged
             been
             ,
          
           
             And
             to
             behold
             the
             bayting
             had
             come
             in
             .
          
        
         
           
             
             About
             by
             noon
             flew
             the
             affrighted
             
               Owls
               ,
            
          
           
             And
             
               Dogs
            
             in
             corners
             set
             them
             down
             to
             howle
             ,
          
           
             
               Bitches
            
             and
             
               Wolves
            
             these
             fatall
             signes
             among
             ,
          
           
             Brought
             forth
             most
             monstrous
             ,
             and
             prodigious
             young
             :
          
           
             And
             from
             his
             height
             ,
             the
             earth-refreshing
             Sun
             ,
          
           
             Before
             his
             houre
             his
             golden
             beams
             doth
             run
          
           
             Farre
             under
             us
             ,
             in
             doubt
             his
             glorious
             Eye
          
           
             Should
             be
             polluted
             with
             this
             Progedy
             .
          
           
             A
             trembling
             fear
             straight
             on
             the
             people
             grew
             ,
          
           
             But
             for
             what
             cause
             there
             was
             not
             one
             that
             knew
             ,
          
        
         
           
             Th'
             
               Destinies
               ,
               Furyes
               ,
               Fates
               ,
            
             and
             all
             hells
             Crew
          
           
             Came
             trembling
             in
             ,
             and
             would
             this
             Monster
             view
             ,
          
           
           
             And
             long
             it
             was
             not
             ere
             there
             came
             to
             light
             .
          
           
             The
             most
             abhorred
             ,
             and
             most
             fearfull
             sight
          
           
             That
             ever
             eye
             beheld
             ,
             a
             birth
             so
             strange
             ,
          
           
             That
             at
             the
             view
             it
             made
             their
             looks
             to
             change
             :
          
           
             VVomen
             stand
             off
             (
             quoth
             one
             )
             and
             come
             not
             neer
             it
             ,
             
          
           
             The
             Devill
             ,
             if
             he
             saw
             it
             ,
             sure
             would
             fear
             it
             ,
          
           
             For
             by
             it's
             shape
             ,
             for
             ought
             that
             I
             can
             gather
             ,
          
           
             The
             Childe
             is
             able
             to
             affright
             the
             Father
             :
          
           
             'T
             was
             like
             a
             
               Dog
               ,
            
             yet
             there
             was
             none
             did
             know
          
           
             VVhether
             it
             Devill
             was
             ,
             or
             Dog
             ,
             or
             no
             .
          
        
         
           
             Scarce
             twice
             two
             yeers
             past
             o're
             ,
             
             but
             quickly
             hee
          
           
             Excell'd
             his
             Mother
             in
             her
             VVitcherie
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             his
             black
             and
             gloomy
             Arts
             so
             skill'd
             ,
          
           
             That
             he
             even
             Hell
             in
             his
             subjection
             held
             ;
          
           
             Hee
             could
             command
             the
             Spirits
             up
             from
             below
             ,
          
           
             And
             binde
             them
             strongly
             ,
             till
             they
             let
             him
             know
          
           
             All
             the
             dread
             secrets
             that
             belong
             them
             to
             ,
          
           
             And
             what
             those
             did
             ,
             with
             whom
             they
             had
             to
             doe
             .
          
        
         
           
             This
             VVizard
             in
             his
             knowledge
             most
             profound
             ,
             
          
           
             Sate
             on
             a
             day
             the
             depths
             of
             things
             to
             sound
             ,
          
           
             For
             that
             the
             VVorld
             was
             brought
             to
             such
             a
             passe
             ,
          
           
             That
             it
             well
             nere
             in
             a
             confusion
             was
             ,
          
           
             For
             things
             set
             right
             ,
             ran
             quickly
             out
             of
             frame
             ,
          
           
             And
             those
             awrie
             ,
             to
             rare
             perfection
             came
             ,
          
           
             And
             matters
             in
             such
             sort
             about
             were
             brought
             ,
          
           
             That
             
               States
            
             were
             puzzl'd
             almost
             beyond
             thought
             ,
          
           
             VVhich
             made
             him
             thinke
             as
             he
             might
             very
             well
             ,
          
           
             There
             were
             more
             Devills
             then
             he
             knew
             in
             hell
             .
          
        
         
           
             Now
             for
             to
             Act
             his
             part
             he
             doth
             beginne
             ,
          
           
             And
             tempt's
             the
             VVorld
             to
             all
             abhorred
             sinne
             :
          
        
         
           
             To
             
               Rome
            
             he
             first
             resolves
             his
             course
             to
             steere
             ,
             
          
           
             And
             quickly
             leaps
             into
             the
             Prelates
             Chaire
             ,
          
           
             Just
             'bout
             the
             time
             some
             think
             when
             as
             Pope
             
               Jone
            
          
           
             VVas
             head
             o'
             the
             Church
             ,
             and
             troubled
             with
             the
             stone
             ,
          
           
             He
             cur'd
             her
             
               Holinesse
               ,
            
             brought
             her
             abed
             ,
          
           
             And
             shew'd
             the
             
               Romish
               Church
            
             her
             Maiden
             head
             :
          
        
         
           
             But
             finding
             
               Rome
            
             already
             prone
             to
             Vice
             ,
          
           
             To
             
               Pride
               ,
               Vain-glory
               ,
               Lust
            
             and
             
               Avarice
               ,
            
          
           
             To
             
               Murder
               ,
               Rape
               ,
               Idolatry
            
             and
             more
          
           
             Then
             he
             (
             though
             Devill
             )
             ever
             knew
             before
             ,
          
           
           
             For
             
               Spaine
            
             hee
             comes
             ,
             just
             about
             Eighty
             Eight
             ,
          
           
             And
             there
             a
             Fleet
             he
             Rigg'd
             for
             
               England
            
             streight
             ,
          
           
             
             There
             did
             hee
             play
             his
             Water-prize
             with
             
               Dr●ke
               ,
            
          
           
             Who
             with
             Earth's
             thunder
             ,
             made
             proud
             
               Neptune
            
             quake
             ;
          
           
             He
             taught
             this
             
               Dog
            
             to
             Duck
             ,
             to
             swim
             ,
             and
             dive
             ,
          
           
             Till
             scarce
             a
             
               Spaniard
            
             he
             had
             left
             alive
             ;
          
           
             But
             being
             vex'd
             ,
             missing
             his
             aime
             at
             Sea
             ,
          
           
             He
             vow'd
             on
             Land
             revenged
             he
             would
             be
             ,
          
        
         
           
             
             But
             Heav'n
             which
             ever
             did
             Protect
             that
             
               Queene
               ,
            
          
           
             Debarr'd
             his
             malice
             ,
             and
             repell'd
             his
             spleene
             ;
          
           
             Till
             
               Jove
            
             fetching
             her
             hence
             ,
             gave
             her
             a
             Crowne
             ,
          
           
             More
             bright
             ,
             more
             glorious
             ,
             and
             of
             more
             renowne
             ,
          
           
             Who
             Reignes
             till
             
               Time
            
             hath
             date
             ,
             or
             
               Fame
            
             hath
             breath
             ,
          
           
             Queen
             of
             true
             
               English
            
             hearts
             in
             life
             and
             death
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Aurora's
            
             gone
             :
             Bright
             
               Sol
            
             is
             in
             his
             Throne
             ,
          
           
             Then
             dry
             your
             eyes
             ,
             and
             cease
             for
             her
             to
             mourne
             :
          
           
             This
             
               Dogge
            
             now
             casts
             about
             ,
             tries
             all
             his
             skill
             ,
          
           
             To
             poyson
             ,
             stab
             ,
             or
             some
             new
             way
             to
             kill
          
           
             Never
             yet
             heard
             of
             ;
             The
             
               Master-piece
            
             of
             hell
          
           
             
             Is
             now
             contriv'd
             that
             wants
             a
             Paralell
             ,
          
           
             The
             
               Powder-Plot
               ,
            
             that
             would
             in
             one
             half
             houre
             ,
          
           
             King
             ,
             Prince
             ,
             Peers
             ,
             Commons
             ,
             at
             one
             blow
             devower
             ,
          
           
             But
             then
             he
             failed
             too
             ,
             the
             Eye
             of
             Heav'n
          
           
             Descri'd
             the
             Plot
             ,
             and
             Justice
             with
             an
             even
          
           
             Impartiall
             hand
             ,
             by
             the
             Decree
             of
             
               Jove
               ,
            
          
           
             Set
             free
             our
             Kingdom
             ,
             and
             did
             them
             remove
             ,
          
           
             Gave
             them
             their
             just
             reward
             ,
             sent
             them
             to
             Hell
             ,
          
           
             Mongst
             better
             Devills
             then
             themselves
             and
             well
             .
          
        
         
           
             Our
             
               Dog
            
             is
             masterlesse
             ;
             Could
             he
             but
             frame
          
           
             Himself
             to
             serve
             the
             Fav'rite
             
               Buckingham
               ,
            
          
           
             
             This
             cunning
             ,
             slie
             ,
             insinuating
             Elfe
             ,
          
           
             By
             him
             would
             work
             strange
             wonders
             for
             himself
             ,
          
           
             Then
             doth
             he
             Plot
             ,
             contrive
             and
             cast
             
               about
            
             ▪
          
           
             And
             Hell
             it self
             doth
             search
             ,
             for
             to
             finde
             out
             ,
          
           
             If
             any
             way
             were
             left
             ,
             he
             vow'd
             to
             〈…〉
          
           
             Once
             more
             to
             bring
             this
             land
             to
             〈…〉
             .
          
        
         
           
             
             Now
             dies
             that
             Noble
             
               Scot
               ,
            
             who
             〈…〉
             s
             tell
             ,
          
           
             'T
             was
             thy
             Ambition
             made
             his
             carcasse
             swell
             .
          
           
             
             Next
             ,
             Prince
             
               Henry
            
             —
             But
             here
             my
             
               Muse
            
             strikes
             saile
             ,
          
           
             A
             damp
             glide
             through
             〈…〉
          
           
           
             I
             know
             not
             ,
             unlesse
             some
             powerfull
             Spell
          
           
             Hath
             charm'd
             my
             head
             into
             a
             watery
             VVell
             :
          
        
         
           
             
               "
               Eyes
               weep
               out
               tears
               ,
               tears
               weep
               out
               eyes
               in
               kindnesse
               ,
            
          
           
             
               "
               Since
               he
               is
               dead
               ,
               how
               best
               of
               all
               is
               blindnesse
               .
            
          
           
             A
             Match
             with
             
               Spaine
            
             must
             now
             be
             practised
             ,
          
           
             VVhich
             soon
             will
             strike
             the
             nayle
             up
             to
             the
             head
             :
          
           
             Oh
             ,
             now
             it
             works
             ,
             which
             makes
             his
             
               Holinesse
               ,
            
             
          
           
             Salute
             his
             hopefull
             
               Sonne
            
             with
             an
             
               Expresse
               ,
            
          
           
             Answer'd
             with
             so
             much
             
               Candor
            
             to
             the
             
               Chaire
               ,
            
          
           
             As
             if
             Himself
             of
             it
             did
             stand
             in
             feare
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             Match
             broak
             off
             with
             
               Spaine
               ,
            
             our
             Noble
             
               BOY
            
          
           
             Is
             yet
             to
             seek
             ,
             and
             must
             finde
             out
             a
             way
          
           
             By
             Poyson
             still
             ,
             how
             that
             (
             O
             monstrous
             !
             )
             Hee
          
           
             More
             home
             may
             strike
             at
             Sacred
             
               Majestie
               ,
            
          
           
             
               Great
               Brittains
               KING
               ,
            
             and
             
               Europs
            
             chiefest
             glory
             ,
             
          
           
             Scarce
             parallel'd
             in
             any
             
               English
            
             Story
             ,
          
           
             Must
             with
             
               White
               Powder
            
             given
             him
             in
             his
             drinke
             ,
          
           
             Cry
             out
             on
             him
             that
             made
             his
             Carcasse
             sinke
             .
          
        
         
           
             O
             for
             a
             Bishop
             now
             ,
             Come
             Little
             
               Land
               ,
            
             
          
           
             And
             usher
             in
             the
             
               Babylonish
               Baud
               ,
            
          
           
             This
             made
             him
             
               Metropolitan
               ,
            
             when
             hee
          
           
             Did
             move
             the
             
               Duke
            
             to
             goe
             toth'
             Ile
             of
             
               Ree
               ,
            
             
          
           
             Poore
             
               Rochell
               Ru'd
            
             it
             ,
             where
             by
             more
             then
             Chance
             ,
          
           
             
               England
            
             was
             made
             the
             scorne
             of
             conquer'd
             
               France
               :
            
          
           
             But
             heaven
             by
             
               Felton's
            
             hand
             had
             so
             decreed
             ,
          
           
             He
             that
             shed
             all
             this
             blood
             ,
             himself
             should
             bleed
             .
          
        
         
           
             Now
             
               Bishops
               ,
               Coaps
               ,
               Caps
               ,
               Surplices
            
             and
             
               Crosses
               ,
            
          
           
             Must
             needs
             
               Religion-o're
            
             these
             fattall
             
               Losses
               :
            
          
           
             
               GODS
            
             Day
             must
             be
             Profan'd
             with
             
               Sports
            
             profane
             ,
             
          
           
             
               Laud
               ,
               White
               ,
            
             and
             
               Wren
               ,
            
             like
             Tyrant-Kings
             must
             Reign
             :
          
           
             
               Monopolies
            
             impos'd
             ,
             and
             none
             goe
             free
             ,
          
           
             But
             those
             that
             lou'd
             the
             
               Masse
               ,
            
             and
             
               Popery
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Now
             
               Tips
            
             of
             
               Ears
               ,
            
             and
             burning
             fiery
             scarres
             ,
             
          
           
             VVere
             all
             sad
             Symptoms
             of
             insuing
             VVarres
             !
          
        
         
           
             That
             
               Masse-Book
            
             unto
             
               Scotland
            
             now
             must
             trace
             ,
             
          
           
             Or
             else
             a
             
               Bloody
               Sword
            
             supplies
             the
             place
             .
          
        
         
           
             Now
             doth
             that
             sur-Reverend
             Piece
             of
             
               Lust
               ,
            
             
          
           
             That
             
               Madam
               Pole
               cat
               ,
            
             that
             was
             never
             just
             ,
          
           
             Contrive
             and
             Plot
             ,
             and
             wrack
             her
             whoary
             scull
             ,
          
           
             Urging
             her
             Daughter
             to
             make
             mischief
             full
             .
          
        
         
         
           
             Now
             
               Strafford's
            
             on
             the
             dismall
             Stage
             :
             't
             is
             hee
          
           
             Must
             Act
             chief
             part
             in
             this
             red
             Tragedie
             :
          
        
         
           
             
             Now
             
               Harry
               Jemin
               ,
               Bristoll
               ,
               Digby
               ,
               Cott.
            
             —
          
           
             Must
             all
             to
             work
             ,
             and
             see
             what
             they
             can
             Plot
             :
          
        
         
           
             Now
             
               Bleeding
               Ireland
            
             hath
             by
             Commission
             ,
          
           
             Brought
             th'
             Prot'stants
             to
             a
             sad
             condition
             :
          
           
             Two
             hundred
             thousand
             of
             them
             lately
             slaine
             ,
          
           
             The
             
               Protestant
               Religion
            
             to
             maintaine
             .
          
        
         
           
             'T
             is
             time
             the
             King
             now
             leave
             his
             Parliament
             ,
          
           
             Let
             
               Digby
            
             weare
             his
             Crown
             ,
             and
             give
             consent
          
           
             To
             raise
             an
             Army
             Traytors
             to
             protect
             ,
          
           
             And
             his
             
               Great
               Counsell
            
             utterly
             reject
             .
          
        
         
           
             
             Now
             Prince
             of
             
               Robbers
               ,
            
             Duke
             of
             
               Plunderland
               ,
            
          
           
             This
             Dogs
             great
             Master
             ,
             hath
             receiv'd
             command
          
           
             To
             kill
             ,
             burne
             ,
             steale
             ,
             Ravish
             ,
             nay
             ,
             any
             thing
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             the
             end
             to
             make
             himself
             a
             King
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Newcastle
            
             next
             ,
             
               Capell
            
             the
             
               Cow
               stealer
               ,
            
          
           
             
             And
             
               Hastings
            
             alias
             
               Rob-Carrier
               ,
            
          
           
             
               Hopton
               ,
               Hurry
               ,
               Lunsford
               ,
            
             that
             all
             doe
             Fight
          
           
             For
             the
             true
             
               Gospel
               ,
            
             and
             the
             
               Subjects
               Right
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             On
             
               Ashton
               ,
               Legge
               ,
            
             and
             such
             as
             these
             doe
             stand
          
           
             The
             Priviledge
             of
             Parliament
             and
             Land
             !
          
        
         
           
             And
             the
             
               Known
               Laws
               ,
            
             that
             should
             good
             men
             protect
             ,
          
           
             Upheld
             by
             Rebells
             ,
             that
             good
             men
             reiect
             ,
          
        
         
           
             O
             
               durum
               hoc
               !
            
             —
             Mine
             eyes
             burst
             out
             to
             thinke
          
           
             How
             blinde
             he
             is
             ,
             that
             can
             at
             these
             things
             winke
             .
          
        
         
           
             To
             tell
             you
             all
             the
             pranks
             this
             
               Dogge
            
             hath
             wrought
             ,
          
           
             That
             lov'd
             his
             Master
             ,
             and
             him
             Bullets
             brought
             ,
          
           
             VVould
             but
             make
             laughter
             ,
             in
             these
             times
             of
             woe
             ,
          
           
             Or
             how
             this
             Curr
             came
             by
             his
             fatall
             blow
             ,
          
           
             Look
             on
             the
             Title
             page
             ,
             and
             there
             behold
             ,
          
           
             The
             Emblem
             will
             all
             this
             to
             you
             unfold
             .
          
        
         
           
             MORRALL
             .
          
           
             
               The
            
             VVorld's
             
               the
            
             VVitch
             ,
             
               the
            
             Dogge
             ,
             
               is
               the
            
             Devill
             ,
          
           
             
               And
            
             men
             
               th'
               Actors
               ,
               that
               have
               wrought
               this
               evill
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             EPILOGUE
             .
          
           
             
               He
               that
               can't
               get
               a
               peny
               me
               to
               buy
               ,
            
          
           
             
               May
               want
               a
               Pound
               ,
               and
               a
            
             Malignant
             
               die
               .
            
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
      
    
     
       
         Notes, typically marginal, from the original text
         
           Notes for div A81604e-310
           
             P.
             
               Ruperts
            
             sorrow
             .
          
           
             His
             policie
             .
          
           
             His
             Army
             Routed
             .
          
           
             His
             
               Dogs
            
             Progeny
             .
          
           
             The
             property
             of
             
               Witches
               .
            
          
           
             Her
             Spirit
             .
          
           
             The
             dog
             begotten
             .
          
           
             Signs
             of
             prodigious
             births
             .
          
           
             The
             dogges
             birth
             .
          
           
             His
             cunning
             .
          
           
             His
             depth
             of
             skill
             ▪
             
          
           
             His
             first
             trick
             .
          
           
             The
             great
             Armado
             .
          
           
             Queen
             
               Elizabeth
            
             many
             times
             miraculously
             delivered
             .
          
           
             The
             Popish
             Powder-plot
             .
          
           
             The
             Dog
             turns
             Courtier
             .
          
           
             Duke
             of
             
               Lenox
               .
            
          
           
             Prince
             
               Henry
               .
            
          
           
             The
             Popes
             letter
             .
          
           
             K.
             
               James
            
             his
             death
             .
          
           
             
               Canterbury
            
             ushers
             in
             popery
             .
          
           
             The
             I
             le
             of
             
               Rue
            
             voyage
             .
          
           
             The
             
               Declaration
            
             for
             Sports
             on
             the
             Sabbath-day
             .
          
           
             Mr.
             Burton
             ,
             Mr.
             Prynne
             ,
             
               and
            
             Dr.
             Bastwick
             .
          
           
             
               Scotlands
            
             piety
             .
          
           
             Queen
             mother
             .
          
           
             Traytors
             ,
             and
             papists
             ,
             Whe●ps
             of
             the
             same
             litter
             .
          
           
             The
             Dogs
             Master
             .
          
           
             These
             and
             Irish
             Rebells
             ,
             his
             Maiesties
             
               best
               Subjects
               .
            
          
        
      
      
  

