Law lies a Bleeding (1659)

For other versions of this work, see Law lies a Bleeding.
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Law lies a Bleeding.

Since the Sword hath so much prevail’d of late,What troubles and discentions do befall the State.

The Tune is, Love lies a Bleeding.

Left: standing man looking right, with his left hand on heart, carrying a sword in his right hand, wearing a shoulder-belt, bandoleer, and spurs. Right: standing man looking right, wearing a coat and cape and holding a contract of sale.
   Lay by your Pleading,   Law lies a bleeding;Burn all your Studdies down, and throw away your reading;   Small power the word has,   And doth afford usNot so many Priviledges, halfe as the Sword does;   It fopsters your Masters,   And plasters Dissasters,And makes the Servants quickly greater then their Masters;   It venters, it enters,   It circles, it centers,And makes an Aprentice Free in spite of his Indenters.
   This takes down tall things,   And sets up small things;This masters mony too, though mony masters all things.   It is not in season   For to talk of reason,Or call it Loyal, when the Sword will have it Treason;   It conquers the Crown, too,   The Cloak and the Gown, too:This sets up a Prisbiter, and pulls him downe too.   The subtle Deceiver,   Turnes Bonnet into Beaver,Down drops a Bishop and up starts a Weaver.

The second part to the same tune.

Left: man standing with hand on hip, wearing a sword, shoulder-belt, and bandoleer, labeled "Hewson". Right: Standing man wearing coat, cape, and gloves, and carrying a gun.
   THis makes a Lay-man   To Preach and to Pray manThis will make a Lord of him that was but a Dray-man.   Forth from the dull-pit,   Of Follies full-pit,This brought an Hebrew Iron- monger into the Pulpit:   Such pitifull things be,   Happier than Kings be;Here comes in the Haraldrie of Thimble and Slingsby:   No Gospel can guide it,   No Law can decide it,Either in the Church or State, till the Sword hath Saintifi’d it.
   Down go your Law-tricks,   Forth from the MatrixSprung holy Hussons power and tumbled down Saint Patrick:   This Sword did prevail so   Mightily in Wales, too,Shinkin ap Powel cries and swears Cods-plu-ter-nails, too.
   In Scotland this faster   Did breed such disaster.That they brought their money back, for which they sold their Master;   They battered my Gun-dork,   And so they did my Dum-sorkThat he is fled, and swears that the Devil is in Dunkerk.
   He that can tower,   Over him that is lower;Would be thought a Foole to give away his power.   Take Bokes and rent them,   Who would Invent them,When as the Sword replies Negatur argumentum:   The Grand-Coledge Butlers   Must hail to the Sutlers;There’s not a Library like unto the Cutlers.   The blood that was spilt sir,   Is turned into guilt sir:Thus have you seen me run my Sword up to þe hilts sir.

London, Printed Anno Domini. 1659. Finis.

This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.

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