Epistle LIII. Upon the Kings imprisonment

Imprison me you Traytors? must I be
Your fetter'd slave, while you're at liberty
T'usurp my Scepter, and to make my power
Gnaw its own bowels, and it self devour?
You glorious villains! Treasons that have been
Done in all ages, are done o'r agen;
Expert proficients, that have far out-done
Your Tutors Presidents, and have out-run
The practise of all times, whose acts will be
Thought Legendary by Posterity.
Was't not enough you made me bear the wrong
of a rebellious sword, and viprous tongue,
To lose my State, my Children, Crown, and Wife;
But must you take my liberty and life?
Subjects can find no fortress but their graves,
When servants sway, and Soveraigns are slaves:
'Cause I'll not sign, nor give consent unto
Those lawless actions that you've done and do,
Nor yet betray my Subjects, and so be
As treacherous to them, as you to me:
Is this the way to mould me to your wills,
To expiate former crimes by greater ills?
Mistaken fools to think my soul can be
Grasp'd or infring'd by such low things as ye!
Alas though I'm immur'd, my mind is free,
I'll make your very Gaol my liberty.
Plot, do your worst, I safely shall deride
In my Crown'd soul, vour base inferiour pride,
And stand unmov'd, though all your plagues you (bring,
I'll dye a Martyr, or I'll live a King.