The Downfall of Cheapside-Crosse

What hast thou done poor Crosse, that this hard doome

Is laid upon thee? what is now become

Of all the gilded Images? for behold,

That now is Stone and Brick, which once seeni’d Gold,

The City-Rulers, in their Graver wit,

And late got Power, have now thought it fit,

That thou shouldst be demolisht, and pluckt down

By th’ warrant of Lord Isaack Pennington;

London’s chief (ut vis) who thinks store of good

He doth, in prisoning, hanging, shedding blood,

In robbing, plundering each that’s good to’s King,

Because no Plate, nor Mony, they will bring

Into Guildhall: nay then it is no wonder,

If by his Order thou art pluckt asunder,

When first the top of thee with many a knock

They did beat down, (Lord) how the silly flock

Of Round-heads shouted, looking up to th’ Skies,

Giving God thanks for the great Victories

They had got ’gainst thee, whilst the Drums did beat,

And Trumpets sounding; truly it was meet:

They threw their Hatts up, and their Muskets shot,

They shook their Heads, and clapt their Hands, what not?

And thus when any Picture, Legge, or Arme

Was thrown to th’ Ground, the Roundheads all did swarme,

And sundry heaps tumbling one on another,

Striving who first should see it, then a Brother

A long Prayer made for thanks, that now they might,

Doe what they list, be it nor Just, nor Right;

For now they keep the whole City in awe,

With wrong-expounded, and misconstrued Law,

Doing what they think fit, what’s good i’th eyes

Of them, being led even as their Spirits rise.

But for their Misdemeanours let this Curse

Light upon them, or a ten-times far worse:

May they no Silver have, nor yet no Gold,

Because there’s Crosses in’t: and, to be bold,

May they lead Lives so crost with grief and care,

That, at the last, may bring them to despair,

May they no good thing quietly enjoy,

May they even perish as they walk, and dye,

And may they still crost be, and crost again,

May Crosses mixt with Losses be their pain,

Nay, because Crosses they desire none,

May they have ever Crosses two for one,

May all their Noses rot, that we may know

Them, may their Eares as long as Asses grow,

May their Hair nere be long, and may their hands

Even pine away, may they stink as they stand:

And to conclude, may they all lead crosse Lives,

Nay, which is worse, be troubled with crosse Wives.