_But take away the Brutes, and clear the Stage; Enter those mighty Nimrods of the Age: That cursed Crew that hunted for a Throne, And made a Babel in Religion. Lo here they come, that_ England _did express To be more brutish than a Wilderness: A Wide-mouth’d-yelping-cur, with a long ear, Of a Scotch brood, they call’d him ----: Cerberus was his Syre, and for his dam A Beast to whom_ Adam _never gave name. The solemn Covenant which he did take, Hung like a pair of Couples on his neck: The which he soon shook off; nay more, the Dog Threw by his conscience, 'twas a tedious Clog. And then began the game: Actæons hounds Ne'er gave their Master half so many wounds, As these their King: it was a hellish brood That took the sent of none but Royal blood. Loud was their Cry, and nimble was their Race; A sadder hunting far than_ Chevy Chase. _But at the length, the Royal Hart they take, Nor would they spare his life for_ Cæsars _sake; But he must dye, yet Noble ---- scorns His share, ---- onely got the Horns. But like the Lyon,_ Cromwel, _that great man, Made of_ Behemoth _and_ Leviathan, _Thus speaks; And do you think, my friends, to share That Prize in Peace, which I obtain’d in War? Divide the spoil, and then as General I Claim the first part due for my Excellency. A second part our able strength demands; A third is mine, 'cause these victorious hands In all those fights wherein we had to do, Were the most painful and most prosperous too. Thus our activity, and strength, and worth, Have won three parts, there onely rests a fourth; Which we’ll with love accept, but if deny’d, Our sword shall teach you better to divide. Thus, as our Saviours Vesture, which might not Be cut in pieces, was obtain’d by lot: So our great_ Charles _his power, which could not be Dissolv’d into an Aristocracie, Was Tyrant_ Cromwels _share; and now our whips Were turn’d to Scorpions: Now the grand Eclipse Began; we saw no Sun for twice seven years, Onely two fatal Stars by turns appears: Protectorship, and Rumpship did prevail:_ Nol _was the_ Dragons _head, and they the tail. But welcome_ Charles _the Second, happy are we, That_ Britain_’s Monarchy’s restor’d in thee; If_ Cromwels _life had put a period to't, It’d both begun and ended in a Brute._