the Best of KINGS These things I did observe and many more But Tyr'd with the Relation I 'll give o'er True Loyalty in its Colours Or a Survey of the Laudable Address of the young Men and Apprentices of the City of London to His MAJESTY NO Name because you can't write well a Fist Is a Good Hand that can write Loyalist Go on Brave Youths and let your Paper show What Love what Service to your King you ow. How well Now London must be Judge of Thee When in thy Sons we find such Loyalty What Though the Jesuits a brooding lye To hatch for us a Mortal Enemy Loyal Addresses shall like thunder kill The Poison-gathering Viper in the Shell And quickly make the Factious Gang leave off To Lace their Coffee with Seditious Stuff The Roul contains most Trades who Swear they 'l be One Man t' oppose their Princes Enemy Th' Ingenuous Pothecary makes up a Pill And Swears it knows both how to Salve and Kill The Keen edg'd Barber with his Razor votes Instead of Cutting Beards to Cut their Throats The Shooe-Maker protests he 'd rather choose To wind Cord for their Necks than for their Shooes The Cobler too wou'd meddle with the Fools And wou'd instead of Soles Translate their Souls The Nimble Taylor swears each Finger itches To cut their Coats more than to sow their Breeches The brisk Vpholsterer swears by his Feather Their Souls and Bodies he will Quilt together The Damming Vintner Vows next time to bring Confounded wine to them that hate his King The Greasy Butcher Swears by 's Oxe's Head That at one Blow he 'll strike Sedition Dead Then Cut it open Quarter it and Treat The Devil with a Dainty Dish of Meat The Cockt-up Haberdasher briskly debates For Brushing of their Coats instead of Hats The Artificial Surgeon fain would Box 'em And send them all to Hell with a Pox to ' em The Cook cries cram 'em in my Pot 's Belly And I will stew their Rump-Beef to a Jelly A Carpenter comes in with a few Cringes And fain wou'd have 'em Hang'd upon new Hinges Then a Hot Bell-Founder cryes out of Spite They dead my Trade let them be hang'd outright But the slye Broaker Vows he dos not dare Venter his Coyn on such deceitful Ware Next unto him comes the ruff Brick-layer And he 's for Building up the Common Prayer The Loyal Coach-man this Sentence Broaches I am for making Plotters draw my Coaches The Brazier is for Burning them to see What Mettle afterwards they 'l prove to be The Strong-Water-Man would be at Stilling Of their ill Humours not at Killing Then comes the Lawyer hatching of some Evil And fain would bring him into Bond with th' Devil But says the Attorney Let 'em make uds luds An Execution t' me of Body and Goods The Rare-loyal Weaver makes a pother To have 'em Kickt from th' one side to the other The Gold-smith likes 'em best for well he knows Such Mettle both for Gold and Silver goes They 'l take what stamp we please they are such Witches A Caesar's Head as well as Oliver's Breeches Last comes a Printer and sayes Let me Dye If I don't brand 'em to Eternity I will transfer to future Age their Plot And what Reward their cunning Coleman got I will Transprint King Charles his Death and bid The Children Weep for what their Fathers did Papists and Factious both shall go to Pot While the True Loyally Draws a better Lot Loyalty Triumphant Or a Poem on the Numerous Loyal Addresses to His MAJESTY ROuse up my Muse For how in such a Cause Canst thou be Lazy or admit a Pause Why do not Words flow faster then thy Ink Or forward Verse scarce give the leave to think Thy Pen in such a Cause should Pregnant be To Write thy Fellow-Subjects Loyalty Subjects that dare in spight of Faction show How much they to the best of Princes owe That dare in spight of all the Politick Crew Who would the People and their KING subdue Be truly Loyal Honest Just and Good Four things the Others never understood Or if they ever did have long forgot Since first Sedition in their Hearts took Root Their Leaders Soul as well as Eyes do squint And could we search the Heart the Devil 's in 't He seems in shew as Loyal as the best But a full Fury Lodges in his Breast Ambition that Curst Fiend that fain would Tread Once more upon his Royal Masters Head Nor are his Followers behind in Zeal T' advance the Good Old Cause and Common-weal Reading the Votes of Parliament I found The KING with honest Men encoâ—â—ast round Who for the Publick Good did Wisely Vote That He for Tangier should not have a Groat At His own Charge He must the War maintain Or Tangier might be Lost for He in vain Assistance sought from them unless He 'ed give In Pawn for it His own Prerogative And against Nature's Laws cease to Defend An only Brother and a faithful Friend He must Exclude Him from the English Crown That when Great York they once had tumbled down They might set up an Idol of their own Whom if they cannot manage to their wills And make him Authorise unheard of Ills They 'l without scruple hurle them head-long down And tearing from his Brows the totter'd Crown Each will be King and set it on his own Amongst five Hundred Men some few there were That durst for Loyalty and Truth declare That durst the King's Prerogative Maintain ' Gainst Mighty Matchivel and all his Train But once discover'd they like common Foes Or Spies upon the Actions of the House Are first made Kneel before the Bar and then Our Loyalists such Principles despise Are still contriving how their King may rise How they may make Him Powerful and Great And in full Splendour keep his Royal Seat Still acting what their chearful words express Whilst each of them performs a whole Address Oh! may they still persist in doing well Till there be no Tongue left their Deeds to tell That they who did in This their King regard May in the other world meet their Reward The Club of Royalists COme Ganemede and fill each Glass with Wine Let each Muse Drink her share then fill up mine I with the Nine will Revel all this night Till Charles his Health bring back the Morning Light But hold a little Whither am I gone What need I run so far as Helicon Whilst Riding on each Beam the Sun doth bear As Loyal Drinkers as the Muses are For they I fear have caught th' infection too Since their own Sons bravely themselves undo For one who formerly stood Candidate For Wit and Sense with Men of highest Rate Apostatizes from his former Acts And from his own Cambyses Fame detracts No more in Verse his Mighty Talent shows But Libels Princes with Malitious Prose This Man in Cornhill if you chance to meet Or near the Middle of Threadneedle-street Know 't is to pay his Homage
to the Sun Or rather to the Hot-brain'd Phaeton Whom Ovid blames but he does more commend Advising straight the Chariot to Ascend What Though the world once more were set on Fire Shall his Young Heroe bawk his great Desire No let the Head-strong Youth his Steeds drive on Tread on his Fathers Counsels and his Throne I envy not those happy Men that Ride With him in 's Guilded Coach my humble Pride Desires no Courser but a Hoggs-heads Back Where mounted with a Bowl of Sparkling Sack With Russel Capel Cooper and the rest I 'le Drink Confusion to each Caballist Damn their Sun-Tavern Clubbs but hold my Rage Condemns the only Honest Men of th' Age The truest Patriots England ' ere did breed Who Viper-like on their own Mother feed Tear up their Bowels with a base pretence Of feigned Piety and Conscience Good Gentlemen how careful are they grown To suppress Papists and subvert the Throne They for Religion strive but wise men know From whence their greatest Discontents do flow Zeal for the Good Old Cause enflames their breast But the chief Fuell's Private Interest The Dissenter truly Described WHat shall a glorious Nation be o'rthrown By Troops of Sneaking Rascals of our own Must Civil and Ecclesiastick Laws Once Truckle more under the good Old Cause Shall these Ungrateful Varlets think to Live Only to Clip Royal Prerogative Shall all our Blood turn Whey whilst we do see Men both Affront and Stab the Monarchy I 'm all inflam'd with a Poetick Rage And will Chastise the Follies of the Age. Thoughts crowd so fast upon me I must write Till I 've display'd the Gaudy Hypocrite He 's one that scarcely can be call'd a Man And yet 's a Pious Holy Christian. He 's big with Saving Faith he says yet He Has not one spark of common Charity ' Gainst Reason he perpetually whines Because it Contradicts his Black Designs He dis-esteems dull Morals for a Saint My well-beloved Brethren must not want Soul-warming Thoughts so warm that they did dwell First in the Womb then at the Breasts of Hell He Flouts the Common Prayers yet the poor Fool Himself not Them does turn to Ridicule He hates a Form yet loves his dear Non-sense Nauseats his God with his Impertinence With Eyes turn'd up Mouth screw'd and Monky-Face He lowdly bawls to God for Saving Grace With Meen so base and scurvy as if even His Apish Postures only would please Heaven And then his Sniv'ling Tone to the most High He does conclude is Curious Melody If Things succeed not as his Humour wou'd He strait grows Angry and he Huffs his God And this as if God knew not what to do And that wou'd have been for thy Glory too Then Muffl'd in his Cloak Roger begins In 's Sermon to dawb forth Soul-killing-sins Murder and Theft and Pride and Gluttony c. Which in their Lives none more Applauds than He. Yet if you do survey the List with care You 'l quickly find Rebellion is hid there And when he 's prest to Duties for some Hours He ne'r puts in The Higher Powers At Surplice and Lawn-sleeves he takes offence Because they are the Types of Innocence For that he hates and with It men of Sense The Reverend Prelates he still vilifies ' Cause they detect his cursed Villanies Hang them they bark come let us pull them down For this same Mitre does support the Crown They 'r the King's truest Friends yet thought it good To drown his Kingdoms in a Sea of Blood They the King's Person would protect they said Yes yes forsooth by Cutting off his Head And this they did inspir'd by Zeal alone To fasten Christ in his Triumphant Throne As if Damn'd Lyes False Oaths and base Deceit Propt up his Throne and made him truly Great As if the Devil himself that acted them Did bring the Luster to His Diadem Nay they go on yet with the same Intents By moulding to their Minds New Parliaments Some of the Great they by their whimseys guide To like their Treason and to stem their Pride In other things like methods they pursue For even the Shrieves must be Fanaticks too The Judges too they 'd to their Party gain Did they want either Honesty or Brain And when their Wheedling Tricks do fail on these They poison soon some Countrey Justices Then had they once the dear Militia They 'd mount the Saddle and make Charles obey Thus first they 'd make Him but a very Straw And then at List controll and give Him Law In fine they are the Foes of Royal State Order is the great Object of their Hate Nor God nor Men these Furies seek to please They 'd bruise the Crown and tear our Surplices They'd Undermine the Churches Harmony And Ride a full Carier to Popery They all Mankind except Themselves Despise Chiefly the Great for being Good and Wise Some Subtile have and some have Giddy Souls Some Fools some Knaves and some are Knaves and Fools These Vermine would even the best things command And suck all the Sweetness of the Land The Loyal LETANY FRom a new model'd Jesuit in a Scotch Bonnet With a Mass under 's sleeve and a Covenant on it From Irish Sedition blown out of French Sonnet Libera nos Dom. From Conspiring at Joe's and Caballing at Mews From Sr. Gutts holy Tub of Uncircumcis'd Jews From Gibbet and Halter which will be their dues Lib. c. From a Parliament-man rak'd out of thâ— Embers From Knights that haunt Counters and Lunatick Members From Presbyt Januaries and Papists Novembers Lib. c. From hugging a Witch and consulting the Devil From Welch Reprimands which are something uncivil From the Touch of a Scot to cure the King's-evil Lib. c. From the mutinous Clamours of such as raise fears From those that wou'd set us together by the Ears Who still for the Shipwrack of Monarchy steers Lib. c. From Rebellion wrapt up in a Humble Petition From the Crafty Intrigues of a Suttle Politician From a Geneva Divine and a Staffords Physician Lib. c. From serving Great Charles as his Father before And Dis-inheriting of York without why or wherefore And from such as Absalom has been or more Lib. c. From Libelling the Government and Actions of Kings From Vindicating Sectaries in Illegal Things From Encouraging Faction which Rebell brings Lib. c. From Murmuring for sending the Parliament home From choosing Fanaticks to sit in their Room That the Actions of Forty may not be our doom Lib. c. From late Irish Massacres by Paptsts done From Seditious Cut-troats which thing is all one From murthering the Father and banishing the Son Lib. c From putting three Towns to the Sword in Cool Blood From robbing and spoiling the Land for its Good From Cloaking their Crimes by a Warrant from God Lib. c. From shrouding all Villanies under the Cause From making us happy by giving Sword Laws From Trampling o' th Mitre and Crown with Applause Lib.
Guilty and to shew 't was well done The People gave a Shout for Victory won The truth c. IX 'T is strange how these Jesuits so subtle and wise Should all by the Pope be so basely trepann'd To hang with much comfort when he shall advise And go to the Devil too at his command He may give them leave To lye and deceive But what when the Rope does of Life them bereave Can his Holiness think you dispense with that pain Or by his Indulgence raise them again The truth c. X. Yet like Mad-men of Life a Contempt they express And of their own happiness careless appear For Life or for Money not one wou'd confess They 'd rather be Damn'd than be Rich and live here But surely they rav'd When God they out-brav'd And thought to renounce him the way to be sav'd And with Lies in their mouths go to Heav'n in a string So prosper all Traytors and God save the King The truth of my Story if any one doubt We have Witnesses ready to swear it all out Concordat cum Recordo Cl. Par. The third Part. Written by a Lady of Quality The Plot is vanish'd like to a bashful Sprite Which with false flashes â—ools could only fright The wise whose clearer Souls can penetrate Find's shadows drawn before Intrigues of State God bless our King the Church and Nation too Whilst perjur'd Villains have what is their due I. THe Presbyter has been so active of late To twist himself into the Myster of State Giving Birth to a Plot to amuse the dark World 'Till into Confusion three Kingdoms are hurl'd It is so long since He Murther'd his Prince That the unwary Rabble he hopes to convince With Jingling words that bears little sence Deluding them with Religious pretence II. Their Scribling Poet is such a dull Sot To blame the poor Devil for hatching the Plot The Murther o' th' King with many things more He falsly would put on the Jesuits score When all that have Eyes Be they foolish or wise May see the sly Presbyter through his disguise Their brethren in Scotland has made it well known By Murthering their Bishop what sins are their own III. The Poet whose sences are somewhat decay'd Takes Joan for a Jesuit in Masquerade His Muse ran so fast she ne'er look'd behind her Or else to a Woman she would have prov'd kinder His fury 's so hot To Hunt out the Plot That fain he would find it where it is not Although I 've expos'd it to all that are wise He has stifled his Reason and blinded his Eyes IIII. An old Ignis fatuus who leads men astray And leaves them i' th the Ditch yet still keeps his way In politique head first framed this Plot From whence it descended to Presbyter Scot Who quickly took Fire And assoon did expire Having grave sactious fools their zeal to admire Who for the same cause would freely fly out But Plotting's more safer to bring it about V. Here 's one for Religion is ready to fight That believes not in Christ yet swear's he 's i' th right If our English Church as he says be a Whore We 're sure 't was Jack Presbyter did her deflowr He 'd fain pull her down As well as the Crown And prostitute her to every dull Clown To bring in Religion that 's fit for the Rabble Whilst Atheism serves himself that 's more able VI. A Pestilent Peer of a levelling Spirit Who only the Sins of his Sire doth inherit With an unsteady mind and Chymerical brain Which his broken Fortune doth weakly sustain He lodg'd i' th' City Like Alderman brave Being fed up with Faction to which he 's a slave He never durst fight but once for his Whore Which his feeble Courage attempted no more VII Another with Preaching and Praying wore out Inspir'd by th' Covenant is grown very stout Th' old Cause to revive it is his design Though the fabrick of Monarchy he undermine He tortur'd his Pate Both early and late I' th' Tower where this Mischief he hop'd to create But to Countrey dwelling he now doth retire To Preach to Domesticks whilst they do admire VIII Another with Head both empty and light For the good Old Cause is willing to fight I' th' Choice of fit Members for th' next Parliament He spit out his zeal to the Rabbles content Whilst his wife in great State Chose a Duke for her Mate For whose sake a Combustion he needs would create For since his Indulgence allows her a Friend He 'd make him as great as his Wish can extend IX There 's one whose fierce Courage is fal'n to decay At Geneva inspir'd he 's much led away He would set up a Cypher instead of a King From Presbyter zeal such folly doth spring He once did betray A whole Town in a day And since did at Sea fly fairly away He had better spin out the rest of his Thread In making Pot-Guns which disturb not his Head X. Some others of Fortunes both disperst and Low With big swelling Titles do's make a great show A flexible Prince they would willingly have That to Presbyter Subjects should be a meer slav They'd set him on 's Throne To tumble him down They scorn to submit to Scepter and Crown And into Confusion or Commonwealth turn A People that hastens to be undone If such busy heads that would us confound Were all advanc'd high or plac'd under ground W'd honour our King and live at our ease And make the dull Presbyter do what we please Who has cheated our Eyes With borrow'd disguise Till of all our Reason they 'd taken Excise But let 's from their slavery strive to be free And no People can e'er be so happy as we Upon the Popish PLOT Written by a Lady of Quality Whether you will like my Song or like it not It is the down fall of the Popish Plot With Characters of Plotters here I sing Who would destroy our good and gracious King Whom God preserve and give us cause to hope His Foes will be rewarded with a Rope I. SInce Counterfeit Plots has affected this Age. Being acted by Fools and contriv'd by the Sage In City nor Suburbs no man can be found But frighted with Fire-balls their heads turned round From Pulpit to Pot They talk'd of a Plot Till their Brains were enslav'd and each man turn'd Sot But let 's to Reason and Justice repair And this Popish Bugbear will fly into Air. II. A Politick States-man of Body unsound Who once in a Tree with the Rabble set round Run Monarchy down with Fanatick Rage And preach'd up Rebellion i'th at credulous age He now is at work With the Devil and Turk Pretending a Plot under which he doth lurk To humble the Mitre while he squints at the Crown Till fairly and squarely he pulls them both down III. He had sound out an Instrument fit for the Devil Whose mind had been train'd up to all that was Evil His Fortune sunk low
a while ago Us'd by Cantarogax Your Agent then To th' same Realms tho' but in vain since when Others with like Effects have us'd it I Us'd the experienc'd Rule Presbytery This was the method Mighty Lucifer That brought ten thousand Rebel Souls a year For twenty years together to this place For Python's part an 't please your Grace He hatch'd a Plot I must confess but what Effects did this his so much talkt of Plot Produce VVhy 'faith he e'en sent here no more Than those who were Your Grace's own before For my own part I to the House will give Of all my Actions a short Narrative In grave and comly Hypocritick Dress Bearing the outward form of Godliness I cloath'd my self and to Vtopia went Haunted the City Court and Parliament And in short time pick'd up a numerous Crew Of all Religions every Sect a few I made all those my own who took great pains To make their seeming Godliness their gains All those who use Religion for a fashion Or seem to thrive by th' ruine of the Nation All who 'd at Court their expectations crost Or by ill manners had Preferments lost All those who were engag'd in the late Broils In the King's Death and the three Nations Spoils And had this King 's late Act of Grace abus'd By their unnatural Ingratitudes All who had lost their Games and now would fain For their own turn have the Cards dealt again I found one fit at last to steer these right A Favourite of theirs a much fam'd VVight Capricio call'd and thereby hangs a Tale Meager his Visage is his Face as pale As his Deeds black Dame Nature sure design'd That by his out-side men might know his mind Hell 's in his Body and his shrivl'd Skin Seems dropping from his rotten Bones within His Corrupt Tortur'd Body does convey Fresh spleen and rancour to his Heart each day Which lest it shou'd o'reflow or by mishap Be over-charg'd from Sun or Fleece a Tap Is in his Body fixt with curious Art Which from his double Envy-canker'd heart By pumping does exhaust th' exundant Juice Reserving still enough for 's daily use With this half Fiend I many Consults had And we at last this Resolution made Almanzor's due Succession to oppose Among his many unprovoked Foes We chose young Marcion not for any love But to undo the Youth as time will prove Poor easie Prince he littte thinks that we Prostitute this his weak Credulity To our own use to Anarchize the State And hasten his two soon intended Fate Disgusted Lords we got some two or three To put their helping hands to Anarchy Amongst the rest one Libertino nam'd Of him I must confess I was asham'd His vicious Life did much disgrace the Cause But 't was enough his hate to King Church Laws And Goverment in general drew the rude Unthinking Jealous Headlong Multitude To esteem him so that he this Title bears One of the Protestant Utopian Peers With these in close Cabals sometimes I past And forg'd a feasible Design at last 'T was thought without some provocation 't were Not fit our Cause in publick should appear I pitch'd upon a Rogue the truth to tell Has not his Fellow even here in Hell Among our Crew we forg'd a Plot which he First brought to light A Re-discovery He made as soon swore to and was believ'd Then our good Party found themseves aggriev'd And cry'd aloud These Tories Brethen see Behold we say the Lords Delivery This was some Bishop sure or Masquerader Soon after this a Son accus'd his Father Forward and backward swears at last he vows Sir He was subborn'd by that same Papist Towzer Things went on well now they thought 't was time The Ladder of Rebellion they should clime The Senate sate High for the Good Old Cause Magna Charta and Fundamental Laws No Arbitrary Power but we must give Necessary Limits to Prerogative Tho' the King mayn't yet We may break the Laws Punish at pleasure though without a Cause Then must Almanzor be excluded He Has too much Spirit too much bravery They must and will have presently Redress Of a long Bead-roll of Grievances And these are such as the K. won't nor can't Nature and Conscience will not let him grant If not no Money Sirs what e're come on 't A Fig for Foreign Foes so the K. want Councellors must be tax'd and most of all Hali whom they had nought to charge withal But only ' cause he could discern the weather And judge when Elements would clash together They do not think it safe that any Lord That has but sense should sit at Council-Board Those that sit there should in their Foreheads have Their Beast-ships mark of either Fool or Knave Who lov'd the K. was Voted straight to be Betrayer of the Subjects Liberty And their old long-lov'd Darling Property Capricio tells them next they want a Prince Fit to be trusted with the Rule and since The present King 's not such they think 't were fit That they be trusted both with Him and It. In short I 've brought that Kingdom now of late In all Conformity so near our State That whosoever sees both will surely Swear 'T is an exact true Pattern of This here Then such loud shouts from all the Senate came That I awak'd and found it but a Dream SEJANUS Or the Popular Favorite now in his solitude and Sufferings IS this thy Glory now is this thy Pride Of sticking to the Saints and Godly side Religious bugbear words that fright from hence From Subject all their Loyalty to Prince Make black Rebellion seem white Innocence Entitle Heaven to the vilest Crimes Make Deity like th' Rabble blame the Times Mad Zealots so Atheistically civil Baspheme the Gods to Complement the Devil The mightiest of the inspir'd Saints is come To Crown himself with fancy'd Martyrdom Geneva Whig that still cries out at Rome But raises still Domestick Broils at home How quietly Great Charles might end his Reign Which all in troubles the poor Prince began Now vext by Ghost meer shadow of a Man The cunning Hypocrite that still can spy The smallest Mote in his kind Prince's eye By Zeal and Nature made so double blind That in his own the Beam he cannot find Some say but one vast Luminary stands In 's surrow'd brow and watches all the Land But sunk into its hole crept out of sight As if it were afraid to see the Light His Skull 's too narrow Circle can't contain His Tow'ring thought vast Gygantick brain Blinded again with hopes of Reformation Poor little Poliphemus of the Nation That mighty Monster brav'd the rising Floud And this can wade thro' a whole Sea of Blood How hath this wretched Isle been chang'd and curst Since thou wert born and since it knew thee first How did its Tributary Rivers pay A bloody dreadful Homage to the Sea VVhilst on the Purpl'd Ocean thou didst ride And tack about still with the Wind and
Undertook Till K. was kill'd and th'Son the Land forsook And then the Scepter fell in Traitours Hands And I was ready to assist Commands Then I was made a Minister of State And found a way the Church to Extirpate Then I helpt Noll to set up Presbyters And pull'd the Bishops Surplice o're their ears And made the Clergy look like Privateers As they went down Tub-Preachers they did rise Preach'd Order Altar down and Sacrifice I made him know through States great Policy Those were the men to maintain Tirany Noll being safe by what I had done for him Suspected me ' cause I Betray'd my King Then to our Tribe he openly Proclaims He 'd never Trust a man that had three Names He Smoak'd my Soul from its Minority Still to be Opposite to all Authority Then I was forc'd new Measures for to take With the Kings Friends some small Contracts did make I Beg'd they wou'd with Patience be contented For the Kings Return a means was just invented But this was done when I could not prevent it I put my self i' th Front o' th Sufferers Tho' like to them I had neither Wounds not Scars When he arriv'd with glorious Acclamations And fill'd with Joys the Longing Expectations All Loyal Hearted Souls of these three Nations And every heart that had been Musket Proof For K. and Country under Fortunes Roof Had Broke the Fatal Spells of Slaveries With Joys did meet the King upon their Knees I like a Spaniel-whelp did lurk a Loof And Squint quite through the Opticks of my Hoof. Expecting when the K. on me would Call And cry my Merits up above them All. But when I found He did mind me no more Just to His Feet I Crept upon all Four Then Clutch'd his Royal Hand between my Paws As if I 'd never been for Good Old Cause Then His Clemency remitted what was past With Place and Title he my Honour Grac'd Which I improv'd till I was grown so High That I again did envy Monarchy Which being smelt by York I was Degraded And out of all my Dignities Defeated And ever since my Brain has been a working For Sweet Revenge my Soul hath still been lurking To several Attempts I did aspire E're I could pitch on one that would take Fire Till I had got this Fatal-Plot well grounded With Seconds and with sham-plots to surround it Which serves as Paint upon an old Bawds Face To fill up Furrows and to give a Grace As Painters always Imperfection Blaze And here we 'l make Friendly Fair Conclusion I prithee Doctor give me Absolution D. Nay hold a while your Crimes but now begin Sir These were but Virtues to your latter Sins Sir You must rub up your Brains and Face about We have the Plot-Mystick yet to Hammer out B. G Dam your Reverence let that go by You are as deep i' th dirt in that as I D. Pox rot your Honour that 's a Plaguy Lie You have confest you were the Engeneer That draw'd the Lines which way the Plot would Bear That who shou'd keep the Front and who the Rear B. And had not your Impudence still over acted Our Purpose long ere this had been Perfected D. 'Zounds 't was for that that I by you was chosen ' Cause I could Out-face all the Truth in Heaven B. But not to Snap the Council up like Peasants And call them Rascals in the Royal Presence Nor yet to call the Life-Guards Popish Traitors As if we were their Makers and Creators Nor to throw an Odium on them at their Inns. When you saw our party totter like Nine-pinns Too late to make the world esteem us Kings Nor to call Inn-keepers Rogues for entertaining The King's Life-Guards those things â—ivulg'd our meaning Nor to call your self the Saviour of the Nation As if there had been Oats from the Creation D. 'S death Have you not acted worse than this You vex me so I scarce have time to Pâ—sâ— You have these seven years made it your study To draw disgussed Parties to a Body You held Communion with Tub-Preachers juggling And draw'd their Brethren altogether smuggling Their holy Siscers with whom they Ingender And bring forth Brood that 's light with th' same Tinder Who are bred up in â—ears and Jealousies Wherewith you daily blind their pur-blind eyes And thus you draw the hearts of silly Subjects From their own Sovereign to be odious Objects For this Impression in their Infancy Deprives them of the sence of Loyalty Thus you seduce the Land for future Ages To be a Den of Bruits for wild out-rages Worse than wild Beasts who still own some Supreme Both Infidels and Indians do the same B. Had you this Doctrine from Salamanka Where you ne're were I know well Sir I thank ye You need not instance these most biting twinges Since our Designs are all slung off the hinges You 're ten times worse were your faults sum'd together Tho' thou pretend'st to be my Ghostly Father For thou art neither Prot ' Byter nor Papist Best thou canst boast of is Inhumane Atheist D. You cross old Cur resolve me these few Questions And I 'le importune you for no more Confessions Who was the cause of Scotlands late Rebellions Who promis'd to assist their Force with Millions Who was 't draw'd Perkin from his Royal Father To be cajoll'd into the Peoples Favour Who was 't contriv'd the drawing of Petitions To gull the Nation into blind Seditions Who was 't contriv'd Cabballing in the City And to school Evidence chose a Committee Who first contriv'd to Peach both Peers and Judges And make them scape before the Bar like drudges All those in eminent Places and great Favour Yet never could be brought in guilty neither Who told the Commons that ' gainst every Trial They must seclude all Members that were Loyal That none might ever pass for due Elected Unless approv'd on by the disaffected Who was it first that cursed Maxim mov'd That every Act for Money be 〈◊〉 Unless Prerogative were squeez'd â—â— shov'd Who was 't contriv'd to have the Guâ—â—ds indicted When we our selves the Citâ—-Guards united Who was it cry'd No Money for the King Till Kingly Powers into â—our hands we bring Who was it cry'd The King must not be trusted With his own Life while we are thus disgusted And that the People they were still in danger Of Native Papists and of Popish Stranger Till th' Militia Cinque-ports Navy and the rest Were all expos'd unto our Care and Trust Who was 't that writ the Address for Shire As if all had been Subscribers that were there A voting for the Members and had lear'd on 't Tho' ten in all the Number never heard on 't Who was it first invented the Black Box And the Black Bills which were to give such knocks Who was made privy unto Godfrey's Death For which three men already lost their breath Who was 't converted Law into a Cloak To shelter Knaves and Innocents to Choak Who was 't that
and detested by many Kick't out at St. Omers not pity'd by any Some Whisperers fix'd him Upon this Design And with promis'd Reward did him countermine Though his Tale was ill told it serv'd to give fire Despis'd by the wise whilst fools did admire IV. The next that appear'd was a Fool-hardy Knave Who had ply'd the High-ways and to Vice was a Slave Being fed out of Bask in Prison forlorn No wonder that Money should make him forsworn He boldly dares swear What men tremble to hear And learns a false Lession without any fear For when he is out there 's one that 's in 's place Relieves his invention and quickens his Pace V. In a Country Prison another was found Who had cheated his Lord of One 1000 pound He was free'd from 's Fetters to swear and inform Which very couragiously he did perform To avoid future strife He takes away Life To save poor Protestants from Popish Knife Which only has Edge to cut a Rogues Ears For abusing the People with needless fears VI. Another starts up and tells a false Tale Which straight he rovoked his Courage being frail But to fortifie one that needeth his aid Being tempted with Money which much doth perswade He swore he knew all That contrived the fall Of one who that day was seen near to White hall Where he by the Treasurers powerful Breath More likely by far received his Death VII A Gown-man most grave with Fanatical form With his scribbling wit doth blow up this storm For Moth-eaten Records he worships the Devil Being now lodg'd at Court he must become civil He hunts all about And makes a great Rout To find some old Prophecy to help him out But his friend that was hous'd with him at Fox-hall Being joyn'd with his Master still strengthens 'em all VIII Then comes a crack'd Merchant with his shallow Brain Who first did lead up his stigmatiz'd Train He since is grown useless his Skill being small Yet at a dead lift he 's still at their call He has pester'd the Press In ridiculous dress In this scribling Age he could not do less But to so little purpose as plainly appears With pen he had as good sate picking his Ears IX To end with a Prayer as now 't is my Lot Confounded be Plotters with their Popish Plot God bless and preserve our gracious good King That he may ne'er feel the Presbyters sting As they brought his Father With rage to the Block So would they extirpate all the whole Stock But with their false Plots I hope they will end At Tyburn where the Rabble will surely attend The great Despair of the London-Whigs for the Loss of the Charter THen is our Charter Polexfin quite lost Is there no Aid from the new sainted Post Are our Sham-plots and Perjuries all in vain If not we 'll summon Patience back again Saints Prayers to Heaven w'have found will not prevail But more propitious Hell will never fail Then let Almighty TITVS for you know He needs must be a Magick Doctor too For how do you think at Salamancha he Could take such an Invisible Degree Unknown to all the University Let him raise up the once great Tapski's Ghost With his Retinue all that num'rous Host Of brave Heroick Spirits who could dye For Treason and Rebellion juctifie Amongst those Steven condemn'd by wicked Laws The Proto-Martyr for the last Good CAVSE Advance you brave Arch-Trait from the Grave Who made Slaves Princes and your Prince a Slave Bradshaw and Cromwel those two Glorious Names That raise dull Treason up to Active Flames Let these Infernal Worthies then be backt By Zimri and the Jury that he pactt With all the fiery Zealots of the Town But chiefly our great Patriot of Renown To whom we 'll give some pretty Polish Crown Not that we promiâ—'d him for all our Zeal Is only how to raise a Common weal. With this Cabal weâ—ll fool all Equity And gain what Law has lost by Polity Here God-like Tapskie once shall speak again And what he speaks Fates shall oppose in vain For if Alive he Treason taught so well What a vast Traytor now he 's school'd in Hell Could Cromwel once by force assume the Crown And sha'n't this angry Ghost relieve one Town Sha'n't Ignoramus who with no ado Could save great Tapski save our Charter too But what are only Councels now The Course That we would take in this Distress is Force But the Militia now alas is gone 'T is odds to what we had in Forty One The Saints are all sequester'd of their Right The City govern'd by a Jebusite What then should we distressed Rebels do Is it too late can't we for Pardon sue Why Good King Charles's Clemency may spare Despair Tho' we in two Reb. had our share Nor need we hang our selves like Judas for But let 's like Origen since other hopes are past Hope the poor Devil may be sav'd at last A Panegyrick to His Royal Highness upon His Majesties late Declaration especially dravvn from Unio Dissidentium Pag. 2. Part 14. Pag. 3. Part 3. Pag. 4. Part. 3. and 4. OF a Just King the Pow'rful Words declare Great James presumptive and apparent Heir The words betoken one and self-same Thing Though some Them would under distinction bring Such Declaration Henry Third of France Wisely made use of when some 'gan advance Pretensive Heirs Fourth Henry to displace A lawful Heir though much remote in Race Such Declaration by both Kings must be An Act impulsed by Divine Decree What good effects from first of these did flow The Gallick Chronicles at large do show Check'd Henry after Care and War became Eternally Great in his Fame and Name Great Duke in this Declarement acquiesce In sweet Repose and Rest thy self possess This heavenly opening of thy Brothers Breast With all due Reverence be it exprest Hath likeness unto that in Sacred Text. Save that a Brother's own'd in stead of Son What more than this can in the Case be done Who dare henceforth this Kingly Act gainsay Who dare against Thy Royal Highness bray Surely the Mouths of the tumultuous Crew Are stopt or else to means we bid adiew Where a King's Word is There is Power so saith The Sacred Writ on which we ground our Faith Henceforth of just necessity must cease Those clamors which so much disturb thy peace Henceforth no Voyage over British Seas Or cold Retirement under Scotch Degrees Need'st thou to take but still abide where Birth Thou first receiv'dst passing time in Mirth By Sovereign belov'd by Friends carest Rever'd by all and by the Heavens blest Exactly making good that Expectation Of being mighty Pillar to this Nation A Stay of State a strong supporting Prop Ordain'd to Scale the Point of Honours top Long since foretold of thee as we may see At large exprest in day Fatality Nor can'st be spar'd from Serene Charles his side Being active vigilant helpful to Guide Affairs of State by Land as well as Sea
Note in Sorrow for our King Whom to the worth no Poet can bemoan Though all the Seas were turn'd to Helicon But there 's no need our Sorrow to Infuse Or strain Elogiums from a Mournful Muse In 〈◊〉 Hearts the cause of our sad Grief 〈◊〉 â—loods of Tears though in the end Relief Great Charles is Dead who was Great Britains King 〈◊〉 â—n Exploits who Trophies great did bring 〈…〉 and â—lenty to His own three Realms â—â—rough storms of State which he did turn to Calms Our by-past Prophesies did point Him forth Preceding Kings were Shadows of His worth Then cast up Virtues to one total sum Perfections Product will be found in Him We will Engrave His Name in Marble Pure With Diamond of the Black Rock to endure Till after Ages that our Children may Pay Tears for Tribute to His Sacred Clay Could men in Arms our Sorrows stroak assail Or floods of Tears with Cruel Death prevail We'd Muster all our Forces then with speed And Weeping Eyes should overflow the Tweed But sure the King of Kings hath giv'n the stroak And Mortals cannot Destiny revoke We 'll kiss the Rod though we the smart regrate Submitting though unto our rigid Fate Yet we 'll breath doleful Sighs to His sad Herse That 's dipt in Tears and Elegiack Verse T'immortalize Great Charles His Royal Name And be Memento's on the Wings of Fame Then rest dear Saint though dead yet still alive Though laid in dust Times Age thou shalt survive Thour' t mounted high above the Worlds renown With Kings and Priests to wear a Cross-less-Crown And though our Grief cannot our loss prevent Let this sad Verse but give our Passion vent EPITAPH HEre lyes Grave Majestick Dust Which when alive was Good and Just Great Charles the second Britain's King Whose valour makes us Weep and Sing His Crown environ'd was with Thorn Which makes His Subjects double Mourn By Land and Sea he did our Work The Fear and Terrour of the Turk He Peace to Europe did restore When other Kings had given it o'r Defender of the Faith that 's true Vntil he had the World adieu Let Princes Eternize His Name And make his worth their Diadem Now since the Sighs that did Eclipse our Skie By His Successors Light begins to flye O're Tears we 'll Triumph since our sore doth bring The surest Salve which is a Lawful King We 'll pâ—â— Allegiance due on Charles his score To JAMES the VII and many Millions more P. K. An Elegy on the Deplorable and never enough to be Lamented Death of the Illustrious and Serene CHARLES the Second KING of Great-Britain France and Ireland c. Who departed this Life February the 6th 1685. HAng all the Streets with Sable Sad and call The Royal Palace Black and not White-Hall Weep Sacred Beads of Loyal Tears and true Of Orient Pearl but Occidental Hew Since Britains Phoebus hath forsook the Stage Before he reach'd the Tropick of his Age. The interval betwixt our Setting Sun And Rising Soveraign ' ere his Light begun Was short yet till our Sorrow soung Relief We were near delug'd in the Seas of Grief Yet tho' our Soveraign doth our Mourning ' swage And gives our joy of Grief the Weather-gage We 'll make no Bonesires for it were in vain Our flowing Eyes would Weep them out again All Israel when good Hezekiah dy'd To his last Bâ—â—ath true â—â—oyal Honour pay'd Where 's then the Boldest Critick â—n deny 〈…〉 CHARLES his worth a Dâ—leful ELâ—GY 〈◊〉 Worth to Times last â—riod shall Endure In 〈◊〉 of Envy oâ— the Grave Secure And Children yet 〈◊〉 with Tears shall pay A 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 use â—o his sacred Clay He from His Child-hood was of great Renown He bore his Cross before he wore his Crown Brancht in the stock of Trouble 't is well known His Fruit was Ripe the Blossom yet unblown Great Britains Bane and Blush Eclips'd his Skie E'r England knew his Soveraignty But as his Sun ascended the Noon-day Aâ— Clouds like Vapours vanish'd quite away 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 â—right Calms of Peace did still remain â—â—â—ough the whole Circle of his Halcyon Reign Then Rest dear Saint tho' now Intomb'd in Dust Unâ—il the Resurrection of the Just And let our Mourners mitigate their Grief Because our Sorrow doth admit Relief The Vail of Death no Christian needs dismay The King of Kings Himself did guide the Way And since our Sore a Salve along doth bring God save Great JAMES our Second Soveraign King Let his Dâ—minions preface Black and White Since Rising Phoebus dissipates our Night Let Loyal Subjects all both cry and Sing Like Birdâ— Reviv d in the returning Spring Let Court and City raise their joyful Voice And Loyal Sighs still Eccho back Rejoyce Till Plotters all Conspiracies lay by And Treason turn to purest Loyalty Hence thâ—n projecting Traytors stand aloof His Loyal Throne is sure and Treason-Proof Lest sit on Edâ—e by old Seditious Smâ—â— Your Treasâ—ns Trapturn round upon your Neck His Presence may no 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Resort Nor base 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 his Court But Reign in Peace whil'st we have in our Eye CHARLES still live in JAMES'S Royalty But since he 's Dead and gone let this sad Verse Tho' undeserving yet attend his Herse EPITAPH HEre lyes Great Charles the Just the Good As ever came of Royal Bloâ—d To Troubles Born he Early knew What Kings as Men are subject to His Morning Glâ—ries were â—'recast And by some Fatal Star Opprest But as his Sun ascended Noon The cruel Comet did fall Down In Peace he Liv'd in Peace he Dy'd The Kingdom and the Churches Guiâ—e The Guardian of the swelling Main The Terrour of the DUTCH and DANE At his Command all war did Cease And Europe Owes to him her Peace Diseases at his Power did Crouch And own the Virtue of his Touch. Let KINGS and PRINCES in him Glory And make his Reign their Directâ—ry To His Sacred Majesty King JAMES II. ALL Hail Great Prince whom â—â—'â—y Miracle Preserv'd for Vniversal Ruâ—â— When Time Your Wondrous Story shall unsold Your Gloriâ—us Deeds in Arms when â—â—â— but Young Your strange â—scapes and Dangerâ— shall be told Your Battles Fâ—â—ghâ— Your Guildâ—◠〈◊〉 is â—â—â— When yet the Elder Generals not in Fame Your Perils dar'st noâ— share Alone the raging Torrent You wou'd stem And bear before You the fierce Tide of War How Spain Records Your Glorious Name And how when Danger call'd for Britains good You paid the lavish Ransom of Your Blood When the Ingrates shall Blushing read How far great Souls the Vulgar can exceed In Patience Suffering and Humility Your Condescention and Your Banishment Then let the Obstinate convinc'd agree You only were preserv'd and fit for Sacred Government Come listen all whom needless fears possess And hear how Heav'n confirms Your Happiness Behold the Sacred Promis'd Prince Whom wond'rous Prophets Ages since Told When the Mystick figures of the Year To such a Number should Amount As sill this Lucky Years Account O're England
291 An account of an Apparition that appeared to Titus Oates 311 A Paradox against Liberty Written by the Lords during their Imprisonment in the Tower 314 The last Speech of Sir Edmondbury Godfrey's Ghost 322 Advice to the Painter's Adviser 323 The Hypocritical Christian or the Conventicle Citizen 326 On the Kings most Happy and Miraculous Deliverance at Newmarket 334 A Pastoral upon the Death of her Grace the Dutchess of Ormond 336 Funeral Tears to the Sacred Memory of our late Soveraign King Charles the Second 341 Scotlands Loyalty or Sorrowful Sighs on the Death of our late Sovereign His Sacred Majesty 344 An Elegy on the Deplorable and never enough to be Lamented Charles II. 347 To his Sacred Majesty King James II. 349 Ireland's Tears A Pindarique Poem upon the Death of our late Soveraign Charles the II. and the Peaceful and Happy Succession and Inauguration of our present Great Monarch King James the II. 351 An Heroick Poem most humbly Dedicated to the Sacred Majesty of Katharine Queen Dowager 362 The Description of the Coronation 369 A Poem on the Coronation 388 BOOKS Printed by Nath. Thompson at the Entrance into the Old-Spring-Garden near Charing-Cross A Choice Collection of 180 Loyal Songs with the Musical Notes Composed by the best Masters of that Art All of them written unce the two late PLOTS viz. The Horrid Salamanca Plot in 1678. and the Fanatical Conspiracy in 1683. Intermixt with some New Love Songs With a Table to find every Song To which is added an Anagram and an Accrostick on the Salamanca Doctor The Third Addition with the Addition of 40 New Songs never before in Print With the Musical Notes to each Song price bound 2 s. 6 d. The Lawyer Out-law'd or a Brief Answer to Mr. Hâ—nt's defence of the Charter With some useful Remarks on the Commons Proceedings in the last Parliament at Westminster in a Letter to a Friend Price 6 s. The Genealogies of the High-born Prince and Princess George and Anne of Denmark c. shewing the Lineal Descent of these two Noble and Illustrious Families with their Matches Issues Times of Death Place of Sepulchre Impresses and Devices c. From the year of Grace M. to this present year 1685. Extracted from the most Authentick Testimonies of the best Historians and Antiquaries of their times Price bound 1 â— Janua Scientiarum Or a Compendious Introduction to Geography Chronology Government History Phylosophy And all Gentile sorts of Literature Price â—ound 1 â— POEMS THE VVAKING VISION OR REALITY in a Fancy AS I was walking reading in a Book Of all the Plots that Hell had undertook Methought I heard a sudden murmuring Rout And cuâ—ious to behold I fac'd about When soon the Croud did to my sight appear With a young Hero stalking in the Rear Their Leader was an old man known too well By that false traiterous name Achitophel He fac'd about and waving round his Wand The cringing Rout stood still upon 's command Lieutenant Absolom forsook the Rear And strutting forward did i' th' Front appear Thus fixt in their Array the first that broke The silence was Achitophel who spoke With roaring voice and visage most austere When to his Eccho all the Rout gave ear All big with expectations till the bold Snake-like Achitophel this story told I need not tell you of the case betwixt ye If you remember Forty eight and Sixty How happy were we in the first of those When no man durst our Laws and Wills oppose Wills as obliging as the Persian Laws We fought and prosper'd in the good old Cause None durst oppose our Faction or appear In vindication of a Cavalier Then all our Party in one humour stood To bleed the Nation tap the Royal Blood Till envious Death at last did basely trip Old Noll up with his short Protectorship Then turn'd the Game and Monk began to sing In Loyal tone Now Boys a King a King Against our wills he did by force restore The King to that which was His Right before Then all those plaguy Rogues call'd Cavaliers Began to peep abroad and shake their Ears Each one expecting from the King to be Rewarded for his Truth and Loyalty When thus we saw our Plots go down the wind We chang'd our Note and spake in other kind And made the World believe 't was only We Restor'd the King to Crown and Dignity When if we could but still have been obey'd No Stuart e're had Englands Scepter sway'd But since what 's done can't be undone again Why stand we idle gazing here in vain Let 's try our wits and Plot for to obtain And play the Old Game over once again Do as our Fathers did come play our parts And let the people know you're English hearts That are not given to change Eighty one offers us a mark as fair As ever Forty did come strike prepare Take Oaths of Secresie and Covenant To ease the Nation of her groans and want Right and Religion Liberties and Laws Will make the Rout quickly espouse our Cause Tell 'em if they don't stir they 're quite undone Religion 's ruin'd Liberties are gone Perswade 'em that the Pope and Popish Train Are just returning to the Land again That 's a pretence ne're fails but always takes And of a Bad Old Cause a Good One makes Now now 's the time strike up for if you miss You 'l never meet a time so pat as this Here 's Popish Plots discover'd and found out With Fears and Jealousies to charm the Rout And soon perswades them all their Lives are lost That they must burn like Martyrs at a Post Unless they get the Popish Party quell'd That are by Evil Counsellors upheld Here 's Grievance upon Grievance these are Knaves And those would make the free born Subjects Slaves Tell them the King 's a Tyrant and Oppressor And that we have a damn'd Popish Successor The Parliament's Disolv'd and we must be Govern'd by Arbitrary Tyrany But yet be sure to keep you in the shade And do what e're you do in Masquerade If any Senator against you sit Be sure to call him Papist Jesuit Mac-Tory Protestant in Masquerade That would your Liberties and Rights invade Now one word more and I have spoke enough Go fall to work for I have found you stuff Which having spoke the Rout were jogging home But soon return'd at voice of Absolom Who with andacious tone cry'd hark my friends Come side with me if you 'l attain your ends Achitophel shall change and take the Rear And I my self will in the Front appear And good old David soon shall know that I VVill be his Heir or else I 'll bravely die VVhat though my Mother was his Concubine The fault was hers I 'm sure it was not mine I am his Son and from his Loins did spring I am of Royal Blood and will be King Do you but help me to obtain the Crown I 'll rule by Law and all your Foes put down I 'le part the
short a stay Ungrateful Countrey Barbarous Holland Shoar Cou'd the Battavian Climate do no more Her Shaftsbury's dear Life no longer save What a Republick Air and yet so quick a Oh! all ye scatter'd Sons of Titan weep This dismal day with solemn Mournings keep Like Isral's Molten-Calf your Medals burn And into Tears your Great Letemur turn Oh! wail in Dust to think how Fates dire frown Has thrown your dear Herculean Column down Oh Charon waft thy Load of Honour o'er And land Him safely on the Stygian Shoar At His Approach Fames loudest Trumpet call Cromwel Cook Ireton Bradshaw Hewson all From all the Courts below each well pleas'd All the Republick Legions numerous Host Swarm thick to see your Mighty Heroe land Crowd up the Shoar and blacken all the Strand And what'ere Chance on Earth or Pow'rs accurst Broke all your Bonds your Holy Leagues all burst This Union of the Saints no Storm shall sever This Last ASSOCIATION holds for ever Dagon's Fall Or Sir William Waller turn'd out of Commission GOod GOD what means this sudden Alteration The Fop that has so long disturb'd the Nation By 's Pride and Pomp and Pow'r is now Turn'd out And hardly pity'd by the silly Rout. He was as stout and lofty as old Hector Usurp'd the Power of our damn'd Protector As Fierce and Cruel as a Tyger's whelp He wanted neither strength nor art nor help To do and undo he was grown so great That the Creation was amaz'd to see 't He had his Coach and Horses Footmen too And into th' City rode to make a shew But little thought when drawn by Whitaker His fatal downfal it had been so near To put a Sword into a Madmans hand It may make Bloody Work within the Land Papists and Protestants were all alike Both sent to lodge with Church and thin-jaw'd Dyke No Day scarce pass'd without some mischief done Into all Companies the Fool did run The Goaler sure gave him a snack of Fees For Prisoners flock'd even like a Swarm of Bees Here Ten were sent him for a Popish Plot There Two more to please a Buggering Sot Then a New Plot is feign'd and more secur'd ' Uds flesh my Friends this cannot be endur'd Printers Apprentices and many more In all I do believe near twice two score They all are Plotters yet by Jove not one Can tell you what was said or what was done The Gate-house is become a Babel now Confusions came upon us none knew how But he that wrought the Mischief now is found 'T will puzzle any man to prove him sound He 's rotten at the Heart I 'll lay my Life No wonder he begot us all this Strife Well now the Cause is gone the effect will cease I hope we shall enjoy our former Peace This Leaven leaven'd the whole Lump And made us fear another sawcy Rump He study'd out new Plots and for what ends Only to please his Presbyterian Friends Ah but my Friend thou thy last Dice hast thrown For which the Presbyters begin to groan Thy buisie active Soul I do not jest Had lately sent it a Quietus est And that which doth thy Grief and Sorrow double Thou art not Rich for all thy needless trouble Soul take thine ease thou very well mai'st sing For thou hast got a Writ of ease from th' King Thou hast much Goods laid up for many years Say that and I will give thee both my Eâ—â—s Leave but the Factious out go through the City Thou wilt not find a Man enclin'd to pity Hang him cries one he was a buisie Knave He shew'd no Mercy nor he none shall have Mischief was all his aim and his design When he brought Hickey to a glass of Wine The mischief which so eagerly he sought For others he himself too dearly bought But I am almost weary of my Rhimes For I consider these are Trayterous Times Had but this buisie Fool his late Commission This wou'd have cost me a devout Submission I had been surely sent to Goal for Treason As Thompson was and had a greater Reason But God be thanked curst-Cows have short Horns He must and shall endure our Flouts and Scorns We may go boldly on and fear no fall No painted Staff will answer at his Call Now he is down down with him now 's the Season For if he rise he 'l Goal us all for TREASON A Dialogue betwixt the Devil and the Ignoramus Salamanca Doctor Devil Bâ—hold from the Infernal Lake I 'm come To fright thy Soul to it's Eternal Doom To tell thee Villain that thy Reign 's expir'd And now be sure thou shalt no longer hir'd â—e by Me no nor any of the Damn'd To drench in Innocent Blood this mournful Land Hence then begone and do no more pursue Villanies Hell could ne'er act but by you Now Heaven stops my Power and I thy Hand And now I tell thee Doctor Thou art damn'd Doctor O Spectre spare a while my dreadful Doom Go back and tell the Damn'd I come I come Only let me compleat the Ills I 've begun Then Heaven farewel and unto You I come Devil The Blood o' th' Innocent aloud does cry Revenge Revenge on cursed Doctor Ti No more o' th' Innocent shall bleed nor die Doctor Well the time 's come the fatal day 's at hand That I for ever ever must be damn'd O curs'd Revenge what Mischiefs have I done Abjur'd the Father and blasphem'd the Son The Sacred Spirit of Truth at once have I Banish'd and that my vengeance I might buy I 've caus'd the best of Innocents to dye See where their Ghosts appear in Purple ray'd afresh Victims by Perjury alone betray'd See how they shake their Heads and bleed Their wounds gape wide in their new murder'd flesh And these most frightful Visions come cause I Th' bloody Villanous Murderer stand by 'T is true that I the cruel Murderer am And thousands more by Perjury to trepan I solemnly did vow and often swear And none t' escape from the Peasant to the Peer Nay Sacred Prelates Princes Queens and Kings Should have made up my Bloody Offerings Ten Thousand more of Innocents had dy'd ' Cause I King Queen and Duke had Sacrific'd Cities and Towns I 'd Fir'd if not withstood And quench'd the flames with Innocent Blood Let me but live in this world three years more This Island then shall swim in Christian gore I 'le subvert Governments and murder Kings Sow discord among Friends I 'le do such things Shall make the World believe there is not that Villanous thing I have not power to act I 'le make the World believe let me but stay That Light is Darkness and that Night is Day That I the Saviour of the Nation am And that CHRIST was of no avail to Man Then I the Sacred Gospels will destroy Swear they 'r but fictious Stories and a Lye Perswade them that the Bible's but a Farce No more to be esteem'd than is my A So I 'le improve the
thousand more To thee young G y I 'll some small Toy present For you with any thing may be content Then take the Knife with which I cut my Corns 'T will serve to pare and sharp your Lordsh Horns That you may rampant M push and gore Till he shall leave your House and change his Whore On top of Monument let my Head stand It self a Monument where first began The Flame that has endanger'd all the Land But first to Titus let my Ears be thrown For he 't is thought will shortly have his own I leave old Baxter my invenom'd Teeth To bite and poison all the Bishops with Item I leave my Tongue to wise Lord N To help him bring his what-de-call-ums forth 'T will make his Lordship utter Treason clear And he in time may speak like Noble Peer My Squinting Eyes let Ignoramus wear That they may this way look and that way swear Let the Cits take my Nose because 't is sed That by the Nose I them have always led But for their Wives I nothing now can spare For all my Live's time they have had their share Let not my Quarters stand on City Gate Lest they new Sects and â—actions do create For certainly the Presbyterian Wenches In Dirt will fall to Idolize my Haunches But that I may to my old Friend be Civil Let some Witch make them Mummy for the Dev. To good King Charles I leave though faith 't is pity A pois'ned Nation and deluded City Seditions Clamours Murmures Jealousies False Oaths Sham-Stories and Religious Lies There 's one thing still which I had quite forgot To him I leave the Carcass of my Plot In a Consumption the poor thing doth lie And when I 'm gone t will pine away and die Let Jenkins in a Tub my worth declare And let my Life be writ by Harry Care And if my Bowels in the Earth find room Then let these Lines be writ upon their Tomb. An Epitaph upon his Bowels YE Mortal Whigs for Death prepare For mighty Tapski's Guts lie here Will his great Name keep sweet d'y ' think For certainly his Intrals stink Alas 't is but a foolish pride To out-sin all mankind beside When such Illustrious Garbage must Be mingled with the Common dust False Nature That could thus delude The Cheater of the Multitude That put his Toughts upon the Wing And egg'd him on to be a King See now to what an use She puts His Noble great and little Guts Tapski who was a man of Wit Had Guts for other uses fit Though Fiddle strings they might not be Because he hated Harmony Yet for Black puddings they were good Their Master did delight in Blood Of this they should have drank their fill King Cyrus did not fare so ill Poor Guts could this have been your hap Sheriff Bethel might have got a snap But now at York his Guts must rumble Since you into a hole did tumble The Case is Alter'd now Or the Conversion of Anthony King of Poland published for satisfaction of the Sanctified Brethren EV'n as a Lyon with his Paws up-rear'd As he would tear in pieces all the Herd So of late days you Whigs as Rampant were An honest Tory scarce to speak did dare Nay it was almost an offensive thing The Bell-man scarce dar'd cry God save the King Thou my dear Titus and the Popish Plot Did'st fire my Zeal and make my Head so hot That then I whisper'd loud unto the Nation Now now 's the Nick of Time for Reformation You hufft and hector'd at a mighty rate When Parliaments of your own Mettle sate As if you had o're-grown the King and Laws And were beginning a New Good Old Cause But Remedy in Season did appear And stop't the Fury of your hot Carrear Thus for a while I danc'd to my own Pipe Till I was grown Association ripe But then Addresses from each County came And Loyalty did soon put out the Flame Then was the time that Tyburn claim'd his due But had it not for want of such as You Yet it had some small satisfaction giv'n By the deserved Death of Traitor Stephen Cabals and Factious Clubs so rife were grown And old Rebellious Seed so thick were â—own I hop'd e'er this the day would be my own In Coffe Houses you did domineer Aud pratled Treason without Wit or Fear Reason and Loyalty you over-rul'd And settled Nations whilst your Coffee cool'd The point you argued with a surly Face And he that did not yield and give you Place Was term'd by you a Tory void of Grace One House one Town one Kingdom scarce could hold Tory and Whig Sir Whig was grown so bold For this Recital Sirs pray do not blame us We ne'er baulk't Justice by our Ignoramus No no you meant no Harm I oft was told No more did your Rebelling Sires of old Thus for a while with Factious Rage you burn'd But Heav'n be thank'd the Scales at last are turn'd The Wheel at length is mov'd a little round And its worst Pieces lowest to the Ground The State has found a way to cool our Feavors Quench our new Lights and curb our strong Endeavours And we are taught Complyance with more ease To What and When and how the King shall please We to your Private Meetings now can come And seize your Holder forth and send you home Meet You at Guild-hall or elsewhere and then Help You make Choice of Loyal Honest Men. The Memory and Name of Moor be blest That Loyal President for all the rest Let Faction cease and Loyalty get Ground Till not one Whig be in the Nation found Then we'el rejoice as in the Days of Yore And Salamancka's shall be known no more The King of Poland's Last Speech to his Countrey-men I Know you hope all once to be Great Men of Note and Majesty For this our now Supremacy Is Nonsence Why should one Man for ever sway A Scepter who 's but made of Clay Why may not we our selves obey In Conscience But now 't is come Alas we see That all our Fame turns Infamy Ah! such a thing is Policy With Tories The buzzing Jealousies and Fears Into the Peoples list'ning Ears For all those many busie years Are Stories Since in late Plots w'have gone astray 'T is time to look another way And not in such a Case delay 'T will harm us No doubt y'have heard of Forty One Of all the Prancks that then were done And of the happy Conquest won Let 's arm us And play those very Cards agen For all those Antients were but Men Five Israelites may well beat ten Philistines Let 's cry Oppression through the Town Oppression of the Court and Gown And raise in Tumult every Clown To Listings We 'll first expose the Laws to Shame And next the Loyal Part defame If Good or Bad they 'r all the same No odds make Yet let Religion be the Word To shade Rebellion and the Sword Then play the Divel under board For God's
sake Then be not wanting in your Lies In Plots and Shams and Forgeries To blind the weak and gazing eyes With Fables But if you wou'd enjoy the Land Let the dark Roman joyn his Hand He Force and Councel can command In Caballs Which though it seem as strange as Nile 'T is Lawful to unite in Guile Our Intrest's ne're the worse that while But further For all their Principles are mine Their Tricks to guild a black Design Their Warrant 's to unite and joyn In Murther What if you were not born to Land Or to be Persons in Command 'T is ne'er the worse at second Hand But fashion Is it not base a Curse to see When we should live equally Such odds and such Majority's I' th' Nation And though we find no fault in State Or any other Potentate Yet those great Names will raise debate And wrath Sirs Since then 't will be so good a Feat Let 's once for all the Work compleat For nothing else can make us Great In troth Sirs My Opticks Friends almost can see A new form'd Lump of Anarchy Whilst under foot lies Monarchy And hated Methinks I see those very Men I hate and envy once agen From many thousands unto Ten Abated Ah! sweet Revenge and bold Ambition Infects both Us and half the Nation The Cause of Wise Association So lately And well't may plague us all to see Some though no better Men than We To live in Pomp for Loyalty So stately I knew when once the Good Old Cause Was nam'd aloud with great Applause Blest times for Liberty no Laws To fright all Therefore if once it come to Test And we again with Lawrel blest The stronger side must be the best At Whitehall And if all Lords you chance to be Who knows what Hell designs for me We 'l make our Lives one Jubilee And wonder So being out of Breath and spent Alas said he much more is meant At last with Pox he hurrying went Like Thunder Fitz-Harris his Farewel to the World or a Traytors Just Revvard FArewel great Villain and unpitied Lye Instead of Tears drawn from a tender Eye Ten thousand Traytors like Fitz-Harris dye Unhumane Monster to the World ingrate An Enemy to the King the Church and State Had'st thou been starv'd 't had been too kind a Fate His Crimes were horrid Infamous and base Deserves a total extinct of his Race Banish his Name unto some dismal place What 's worse than injuring Sacred Majesty For which he suffered on the Fatal Tree May all Men suffer when Rob'd of Loyalry England may then be glad with Triumph sing When all her Foes are vanisht with a string The Golden Age from Halcion-days will spring Those Wolves that Plot Protestant Lambs to Gull May Heaven obstruct the Engines of their Scull Give them of Tyburn good Lord their Belly full Giddy-headed Youths have been seduc'd of late Beyond their Wits talk of the Affairs of State Obedience learn to avoid Fitz-Harris Fate Those publick Libellers with Zeal and Heat With some unheard of Novelty daily treat If they write falsly tie them from their Meat Tell th' Ambitious they 're Fools and strive in vain To undermine a Crown King Charles will Raign To be true and honest is the safest Gain I hope to see Justice at Tyburn done If so some hundreds may have cause to run Give them what they deserve their Thread is spun Bid proud Petitioners good Advice approve Make an Address and in one Body move With all Humility t'gain their Prince's Love I 'de sooner lose a Limb from th' Monument fly Endure the worst of Torments till I dye Than willingly deserve my King 's displeasing eye London on thee all flourishing joys descend Heav'ns bless the Government and Governours to the end Unanimous to agree your Soveraign to defend The Man that burnt Diana's Temple down Did it on purpose a Villain to be Crown'd ' Mongst Rogues Damn'd Rogues he got Renown How many thousands are there in the Nation Meer Knaves but Saints in private Congregation Love Monarchy with mental Reservation The Gods rebuke the Error of the Age Let Moderation Tumultuous men asswage But hang all those against their King engage Let all Dissenting Brothers love the King To the Church Unite 't is a goodly thing With Brethren to agree and with Te Deum sing Heav'ns bless his Majecty with Plenty Joy and Peace To all that love the King Heavens give increase Confound his Foes to pray I ne'er will cease Non est Lex justior ulla Quam Necis Artificis Arte perire sua The last and truest Discovery of the Popish-Plot by Rumsey West and other great Patriots of their Countrey BUt Oh! This late Conspiracy so Dire By Providence prevented by a FIRE No Age can parallel so Black Design The fiercest Furies could not place a Mine From their dark Caves to give so great a blow And at one Burst Three Kingdoms overthrow Merciless Flames we 'll now Innocent call Since Fire's allarm hath preserv'd Us all Thrice happy Fire of Providence whose Good Was Bon-fire for the saving Royal Blood Heav'n forc'd their Safety drove them from that place That they might live to see a longer Race What desperate despairing damned Crew Would Fell the Royal Oaks plant cursed â—ew Did Shaftsbury descend into the Pit And Pluto's President of War doth fit Are Sheriffs Juries and his perjur'd Slaves All silent Now as they were in their Graves No Thou retain'st thy Counsel at the Bar And Good-enough to make a Civil War Tho thou canst not return hast none to send Murder and Treason thou hast left thy Friend Thy Breath O British Scylla still remains Whose Poyson stagnates your ill Livers Veins Thou damn'd Achitophel counseledst a Vote If the KING dy'd to cut the Tapisis Throat Nay if a House by accident was fir'd From Them must Reparation be requir'd Imposture Hypocrites invent a â—lot Deceive the Mobilâ—e and League the Scot Then Loyal Innocents they guilty bring Reserve the Honour yet to Kill the KING The Comets blaze and the Portents you know Did signifie the Nations Overthrow And You the Ministers of Fate must be The Hang-men-Murderers of ROYALTY No Paracides though you pervert the sence Heaven is not pleas'd till you are hang'd from hence The Stars discover your dark Plots below Your Malice would make Heav'n Guilty too Just like old Satan when he did Rebel He once was good You never mend in Hell Since none but You could ever claim a Right By horrid Murder to Eternal Night Had you succeeded Oh what Seas of Blood Had drown'd the World and made a second Flood The Horrible Events no Man can think Blood-thirsty men with drinking thirst for drink Nothing but Death can quench their Furious Zeal No Plot nor Parliament his Acts repeal Those Lies confirm'd by Oaths and Impudence Were once believ'd by Men of soundest sence This the deciding Plot 'twixt Heav'n and Hell Though you repent not shall confess you fell Lucifer-like
little Yatch and Squadron as they ride Swell to a Fleet and Admiral with Pride Lift up their Flags like Piramids on high And with their Rain-bow Colours brave the sky Th' Egyptian Gallies were not half so proud When Cleopatra was o'er Nilus row'd Thus gentle Neptune guard her o'er your Sea From faithless Albion to glad Albany Commit her safely to the longing Shore To her first Father's ancient Fergus Tower There as in Heav'n her wishes to obtain Till she return and thou art blest again Islington WATERS EArly by Four on Friday Morn Ere Phebus did the Skies adorn I started up from where I lay And look'd what Weather 't was that day It prov'd Serene it prov'd all Clear No sullen Foggs obscured the Air In haste my Cloaths I hurry'd on Intending streight for Islington My Stomach first with Mugg of Stout I brib'd to skreen the Vapours out With Fringe and Sword then jogging went T' observe not drink was my Intent For faith I 've us'd this Paunch of mine So long to Noble Claret Wine In troth I dreaded the Events 'Twixt two such differing Elements For should they fight by Jove I fear Each other to outrival there In the Hot and rumbling Fray My feeble Soul wou'd sneak away Now to the ready Road I draw And Troops of flocking fools I saw One Gang in Chief observing there To them apace I hasted near In Plush a Doctor then espy'd A long Goun Priest did hand his Bride Th' Apothecary big and fat With Neighbour Cit held serious Chat Streight I draw up that trodden way And walk and hearken all they say Good Sir says Cit what do you think Of this new Metaphysick Drink Then stopt could hold no longer out With that prodigious Phrase ev'n choakt The Doctor pausing nothing said But looking Grave hung down his Head And walking thus demur a while At length Began with leering Smile What brooks it me an answer make I know you 'l censure what I speak Impute it Intrest or Design I thus direct this Speech of mine For Vulgar Errours who can mend He seems their Foe who is their Friend Themselves the Giddy Rabble cheat They make all Fish that comes to Net What 's now receiving with Applause Not minding the Effect or Cause The brackish Water swallowing up As if 't were Nectar in the Cup. No consequential ills they fear It must be good cause Popular Perhaps they 'l find altho' too late The Hugg and Wanton with their sate As to my own Respect and Gain I find no reason to complain For truly I observe this thing Since Fame in vogue the Wells did bring My Practice doubl'd with my Fee And if they hold they 'l treble be They cause such dire Mortality This said he stopt and said no more But sneering stalkt along before Th' Apothecary in mean while Applauding did devoutly smile In token too of his Consent With the Remains thus on he went And I admire as th' Doctor says The head-strong Madness of the days That men so wise so learn'd in sense Are lur'd with such Impertinence They boast that mighty Cures are done The Scurvy Strangury and Stone Gripes and Histerick Passions too Green Sicknesses in not a few The Dropsy and Obstructions all They 'll make 'em Epidemical But above all that has been said They can retrive a Maidenhead Oh! wondrous Virtues wondrous things That flow from those important Springs Fate give 'em good success said I The empty'd bowls with more Supply Since publick thus I daily pile And heap with Bills my loaded File I mind your drift the Cit reply'd And Screw'd his Grinning Teeth aside Your Interest faith I cannot blame Were I engag'd I 'd say the same But Friends observe you speak too late Experience proves the Virtues great Your early Care at first was shown By your applause you made 'em known In hopes the undigested Spring To you might crowding Patients bring Then closely did your Interest hide Now find your selves ' o th' loosing side And by your subtile slighting Arts Cou'd win from them the Peoples hearts But faith I find wondrous ease Since I began it 's seven days The Soveraign Dose relax'd my Greif And daily does afford Relief That Physick here the Spring Instills Effects more good than scores of Pills My Three-pence here will farther go Than Pounds I in your Fees bestow What needs there this Intestine striâ—e Returns the Learned Doctors Wife Love let 'em ungain said go on They 'l find before the Summer 's done Their Errour vainly was pursu'd The Wells their Senses did delude And by this rash unruly Trick We'est reap th' advantage when they 'r Sick The Parsons Tongue began to start He argu'd the Defensive part That th' Waters must unquestion'd be In terms of High Phylosophy That Heav'n in Mercy had design'd These Soveraign Springs to heal mankind Impatient now of longer stay I slunk in silence strait away And to the Waters sailing near A harsh confused noise I hear Two Cavalier stifâ— Toryes came Each Hand on Hilt Face on a Flame Damn me says one on Honour Draw My Sword shall give your boldness Law At this I wisely stept away Nor stay'd the Issue of the Fray But to the flowing Pump I came Promiscuous Crowds buzz'd round the same Full Bowls by turns were empty'd out Healths to the King there bounc'd about They gorg'd it down like Claret-Wine Like Florence or like Muscadine From thence I closely thronged out And ranged all the walks about Here Tradesman's Wife stood big with Cully Her Daughter with a Bouncing Bully Whilst behind all the Footmen play'd And wanton'd with the Chamber-Maid A Taudry Jilt as I past by Glouted around with wishing Eye With Breasts thrust out and vaunting pace With Pockey Ar and Painted Face With Hair in Crisp and Fuz o' th' Brow Scudded and jogged to and fro A Gaudy Fop whose Pregnant store Scarce paid his entrance at the door Prepar'd to accost the Rutting Whore By Heav'ns Madam how you shine Be pleas'd t' accept a Glass of Wine Damn me how Happy shou'd I be Blessed with your Charming Company With Mouth screw'd up and winking Eye Just opening with a sweet reply Turning with speed I tack'd about And thrust into the Whiggish Rout Here State affairs advanc'd the Stage With every circumstance o' th' Age Some in soft Silence gave their Votes And pitty'd suffering Titus Oates Whilst some more solid knowing Men Curst down the Observators Pen And others who as wisely meant Made Martyr'd Russel Innocent Essex Murder'd that Armstrong dy'd Condemn'd unjustly and not Try'd Some there in private had decreed Who shou'd the envy'd Charles succeed But Tyr'd with the stuff I turn'd aside And Loyal Tory Gamesters spy'd Then towards the lower walk I drew An Object there my Stout o'rethrew And I began to Purge and Spew Weary and Sick with nasty sight With Cuckholds made by morning Light With Whores pick'd up which Treason talk'd With Fops who to the Waters talk'd
shall be But one Long Jubilee Whilst Thou our Dearer Greater Jove The Greater tho' less Thundering Name Thy Lightning all but Lambent Flame Crown'd with Miraculous Mercy Sits above And all Beneath Thee LOVE Mercy more Wondrous far Then thy own Native Noon-day STAR A Mercy so prodigious as t' excel All but thy RESTAURATION Miracle Mercy that even Heavens hardest Toyl FANATICISM shall reconcile Soften th'invet'rate Hate of Church and Crown And all the Iron Hearts melt down Mercy and Charles all this Stupendious work shall do Nay move without a Pang the Mighty Labour through IV. But whil'st this Faithful Band 's unshaken Loyalty For Charles dares Fight and for Him dye 'T is as the GODS Devotion treats With precious Odours all no more Than Heaps from their own Store The Gums which their own Sun creates 'T is all but a Creation of thy own Whil'st Charles is his own Guard alone Inspires that Loyalty protects his Throne Nor is alone this Loyal Host Th' Auxiliary thy Cause can boast For let 'em cover all the spacious Plain Nay add ten Thousands more to fill the Gloririous Train Great Charles not half thy Guards are here Heavens kindest Angels in that List appear They lead the Mighty Van and These bring up the Rear The Melancholly Complaint of Doctor TITUS OATES WHat could a curst ungrateful Age do more Impostor-like to punish him so sore Whom for a Saviour they ador'd before I was the man Oh! cruel change of Fate Once the Pillar of the sinking State Am now become the very Jayl-birds hate Out of a pallace into a Dungeon thrust From six good Dishes to snap at one brown Crust By God and man like Cain mark't out and curst Is this the end of all my promis'd Joys I that once made such bussle and such Noise Puft up with Triumphs of the shouting Boys With what applause was I receiv'd by th'Rabble When I gave hopes for to re-build their Babel But now they 'l hang me ' cause I was not able With watring Chops I call to mind the cheer That oft I made with many a Noble Peer Now in good time may snack the Basket here I do remember too how tumbling Pence Came rowling in when I did first commence Master of th' Art and Doctor Evidence For want of which I never shall get hence 'T is strange that Bolts and Bars and Iron Grates The just reward of perjur'd Rogues and Cheats Should prove the Praemimum of my Glorious feats Ungrateful Slaves What! have ye quite forgot How for your sakes strange Kingdoms I did trot Brought nothing but th' wonder of my Plot Though many shifts abroad I have been put too Scarce able to provide for Back and Gut too And often-times was forc'd to pad a foot too Nay many times I 've lain all day in Bed Because abroad I durst not shew my head But when 't grew dark stole out to beg my bread What I have suffer'd for the Kingdom 's sake In wants and dangers what I did partake And now to fear the Gibbet or the Stake Brethren 't will cause your tender hearts to ake I curst my Country and deny'd my Credo And for the Nations good turn'd Renegado Receiv'd Cruel Whitebread's Bastinado I worship't Idols that were false I knew And when I 'd done swore they were Gods most true And play'd the Devil for the sakes of you I pray'd to Saints in time of need with cryes Till they had granted my necessities My Almes obtain'd their Saint-ships I 'd despise I chang'd Religion often as my Name Spew'd out and hated whatso'ere I came Haunted by th' Devil Beggary and shame Through the wild Sects and Tribes I made a Ramble And to them all did lye swear and dissemble Enough to make the very Devils tremble Thus by me were the silly Jesuits sham'd When as with tears I swore I should be damn'd If not receiv'd into their Holy Band. I made them think Religion was the Tye That did engage me when I came to Spye Since 't is well known the Devil a bit had I. I made his Holiness believe the Pope That in his Pardons I conceived such hope That for his cause I 'd suffer Fire or Rope But when I 'd got my foot out of his door I Rail'd and call'd him Babylonian Whore And many Horrid things against him swore For why I ne're yet valued Faith or Troth Or ever made more scruple of an Oath Then of a blast of breath to cool my Broth. I quickly kill'd the worm within that gnaws And made the Gospel Prophets and the Laws Come truckle Brethren to your good Old Cause I laught at all Religion and its Baubles Such as Evangelists and holy Tables Esteeming them no more then Aesops Fables Like merry Lucian look'd on 't as a Tale A dull insipid thing grown Old and Stale Serves me to joak on o're a pot of Ale I scost't scorn'd but ne're would cringe or bow To those grave fools that do such tales allow And would have judg'd them to the Cart or Plow That with you I might gain repute and fame I laught at Conscience as a Bug-bear name And shook off quite all modesty and shame In hopes once more you'd come to rule the Roast I made my self Knight-errant of the Post Of which I take the vanity to boast For good of Commonwealth without repine I franckly Dedicated me and mine Contemning Laws both humane and divine Vast Sums I in the publick service spent Much Money to the needy Jesuite Lent When at that time I 'd neither Land nor Rent The corresponding Charges I did own When to the Lords my just accounts were shown Besides some By-ones more than e're were known The many painful journeys to and fro Embassador 'twixt Devil and Turk to go To all the World my vast Expences show Besides for Flying-Horses which would scour To France or Spain and back in half an hour With Old Nicks Fees for granting me this power I morgag'd all my Heritage and Lands To purchase from the Roman General 's hands Commissions for my new rais'd secret Bands But Oh! the Devil poor man was ne're so crost When God knows what those Roman Bulls had cost Lo suddenly they vanisht and were lost To Mulciber for strange and curious Arms Made with such cunning magick spells charms To fright and fear and do no further harms Procuring of rich Cordials for the King The which I judg'd the safest and surest thing Him to his bed of longest rest to bring For Blunderbuss or Cross-bow I count nought Because for secret services they were bought Besides were not well manag'd as they ought At many other charges I have been For preservation of the Duke and Queen And swearing things were never heard nor seen For Doctor-shipand Salamanca Fees Where Pistoles flew away as thick as Bees Pox on their University degrees For Ancient Books that I in Aegypt bought From the fam'd Ptolemaeus Study brought No Gypsie gibberish ones as some
c. From Hunting the King and abjuring his Race From Cleansers of Bung holes usurping his place From Preachers in Tubbs that are void of all Grace Lib. c. From Vulcan's Treasons late forg'd by the Fan From starving of Mice to be Parliament-man From his Copper Face thet outface all things can Lib. c. From Unbridling the Faction the King to dismount From giving for each thing to Subjects account From letting P's Domineere as they were wont Lib. c. From Voting Lords useless and dangerously Ill From hanging of Bishops up for dropping the Bill From letting Fanaticks have too much of their Will Lib. c. From purging the House to obstruct our free choice From Resolving the King to Oppose with one Voice From such that at Mischief do daily rejoyce Lib. c. From all the Seditious that love not the King From such as a Civil War once more would bring Deliver us good Lord let each true Subject sing Lib. c. The Fanatick Rampant Or an Election at Cambridge ONE day I heard a zealous shout I then look'd up and lo the Rout Of Saints were come to Town Who by their Hats right gravely set And Collar-bands I guess were met To cry the Bishops down But see how grosly I did err For they came only to prepare Against that Codly bustle And therefore did most fervently With Carnal Throats extended cry A Russel yea a Russel Some cry'd a Russel some again Mistook the Name and cry'd Amen Some with erected Fist Cry'd O we find by Revelation That this is He must heal the Nation And hamstring Antichrist At length there comes me a Free-holder With Head inclin'd to the Left Sholder And Circumcised Hair Who with his Snout all wet with Snivel And looks enough to scare a Devil Did thus begin his Prayer Lord if thou dost thy Saints regard Look on the Keepers of thy Heard Even on thy chosen Russel See but what honour we have done him And then thou needs must poure upon him Thy blessings by the Bushel Thy tender Flock Lord he 'll not pound But doth regard the Poor Lord he hath done more for my Wife Than e're I did in all my Life O blessed Senatour Do thou in time his Worship bring To be to be a Lordish thing As was his Noble Kin Thou seest how He alone doth stand And hates the great ones of the Land O well doth he begin Then give him Grace Lord not to cease Till he hath broke the Cord of Peace That Girdle of the Whore That we again may see that day In which we all may preach and pray And then I 'le ask no more With rhat I spy'd an Image fair High mounted in his stately Chair I think to mock the Pope Down Brethren to the Gallows gang Said I he shall not burn but hang. Though I pay for the Rope Poor Robin's Dream Or the Visions of Hell WHen th'charming News had passed Charing Cross And they depos'd that would dismount that Horse The Senatours their hated patience forc't As Thames once for Sempronia stopt her course Like Boys that were just from a Vineyard scar'd All stood amaz'd but ne'er a word was heard But when they found they were pursu'd by none But th' Master stood only to keep his own They then unto their wonted Passion flew And swore they 'd prove those Grapes to be their due Next time they came they 'd have their Master too I' th City All their steady-Heads they tost Like Wives at Billingsgate when a good Bargain 's lost Ballads of grief about the Town they sent As if they lost a Loyal Parliament Such clam'rous Consternations with safe Cryes Enough to tear great Jove down from the Skies None daring to confront those Factious Athiests Dreading the scand'lous Name they call Church-Papists Then I e'ne laid me down upon my Bed Where sundry Contemplations seiz'd my troubled Head In a trembling Trance I on a sudden fell Wherein I saw that damned Den call'd Hell Where ten thousand Sons with Legions of black Fiends Of burning Reb. there they made their Skreens Old Noll and Bradshaw Ireton and Pride Burning like Beacons on the other side Then perjur'd Rogues drawn up in arched Rings Their Tongues like Serpents shew'd their flaming Stings Thought I is this the fruit of killing Kings When that Scene chang'd methought I clearly saw A solemn Conventicle groan out yells of woe Their Hats pinn'd to their heads with siery nails Their Ears drawn out as large as Spanish Frails Their Eyes like oval Lanthorns glowing Rouls Or flaming â—lambois from their treach'rous Souls Their Mouths unto their ugly Ears were drawn Spirits froth'd out like poison'd foul Frog-spawn Upon their Backs was writ in Blood I see Damn'd for Rebellion and Hypocrisie ' Mongst this prodigious and confused Throng The Holder forth was called Dr. Tonge Who so excell'd Hugh Peters being there That he was forc'd to fall into the Reer Till interposed by a Champion stout With flaming Sword made way through th' hellish Rout. Bedlow And cry'd to Tongue thou damn'd Orator Thou art the cause of my Soul burning here Tonge Why what wast thou when first I did thee know But one condemn'd for Robbery by the Law Bedlow Why what wast thou poor Fool in Forty one But a poor Weaver just leapt from thy Loom Then stept into a Tub to preach Sedition And tookst the Covenant for thy Commission Which thou pursu'dst till all the Rump was ruin'd And Charles return'd and to his Right resum'd And then thou mad'st a Breech of thy own Mouth Sworst back again but never preachedst Truth And in thy Age more treach'rous than in youth Tonge That cannot be imputed Perjury To swear for those that rule by Tyranny Or for any else as Times may turn by fits That 's but a Knack of living by ones Wits But I ne'er Rob'd upon the King's High-way Nor boasted on 't unto my Friends next day Nor I ne'er feign'd my self to be a Lord Nor pilfer'd Coyn without the help of Sword Nor ne'er was proved perjur'd by Record Bedlow Thou damned Hell-hound hast thou now forgot Who was so active in the Popish Plot 'T was Thou that patch't up our Depositions And then deliver'd them without Commissions Which thou madst him pretend he had disperst Then thou thy self turn'd Tail and was releast Yet still thou didst persevere in thy Sin Taught Tony and the rest to bring me in To meet you at Cabals and Foxes-Hall Where I receiv'd my Lessons from you all You taught me what to speak who to impeach All Loyalists you brought within my reach Both Queen and Duke â— to the Block must bring Nay had I'liv'd I must have peacht the K Now who 's the cause of my Soul's suffering Tonge All this I own was Truth and ten times more But thy black Soul was damned long before Thou had'st committed Murther Theft and Rape So 't was impossible thy Soul shou'd ' scape For had'st thou liv'd till each