A Song

Farewel, farewel to Mortal Powers,
and fond Ambitious Fools;
Now guiltless Blood requireth ours,
from Providence that Rules.
Farewel to Monmouth, Horned Grey,
who are from Justice fled;
And left me to this fatal Day,
to loose my Plotting Head.
Of all the Lords of our Caballs,
I am the first that dyes
By th'hand of Justice, which foretells
a Counter-Sacrifice
That Blazing-Star at Stafford's Death,
foretold a fatal Change;
Now I declare, with my last breath,
it is but just Revenge.
Farewel to our late Parliaments,
which made Three Kingdoms shake;
Our Lawless Votes (my Soul torments)
was for Rebellions sake
Th'Exclusive Bill I did promote
with vigour, spleen, and power;
Thereby to cut a Monarchs Throat,
that caus'd this Bleeding Hour.
The best of Kings I sought to Kill,
and draw'd in Thousands more;
Who neither wanted Wealth nor Will,
and Traytors long before
Besides the Peasants and the poor,
for Insurrection bent;
To lay the Kingdom all in gore,
to please a Parliament.
We neither feared Law nor Right,
Prerogative nor Fate;
Impeached Queen and Duke for spight,
to make the King afraid
We thought he durst not call to 'count
our great Conspiring Heads;
But now, like me, they all must mount,
and fall into the Shades.
If we had Hang'd Tonny and Tom,
when first the Plot begun;
Then I to this had never come,
nor James from Justice run
Denying of the Plot's in vain,
since Essex cut's own Throat
Both Rouse and Walcot owns the same,
and all the rest must do't.
For my Confession I commit
to th'Groaning-Board's Divine;
'Tis his desire to Word it fit,
I hope for no design
If Whiggish Cant, he puts upon't,
with 'quivocating Shamms;
Then score him up, on our account,
his Lybell to the Flames.