The politician's downfall, or, Potapski's arrival at the Netherlands, and the congratulation of the Protestant Joyner at their meeting

The politician's downfall, or, Potapski's arrival at the Netherlands, and the congratulation of the Protestant Joyner at their meeting

Table of contents

THE Polititian's Downfall; OR POTAPSKI's ARRIVAL AT THE NETHERLANDS: And the Congratulation of the Proteſtant Joyner At their Meeting.

§

THE Polititian's Downfall; OR POTAPSKI's ARRIVAL AT THE NETHERLANDS: And the Congratulation of the Proteſtant Joyner At their Meeting.

[Page]

Flectere ſi nequeo ſuperos Acheronta movebo.

Virg.

IS Tapski Dead? Why then the Stateſ-man ly'd,

Who wou'd Immortal be and Deify'd.

Strange Pride! th' exalted Lucifer is hurl'd

By ſtrong impulſe of Fate from th' Belgic World.

The Burgomaſter's baffl'd in's intent,

Deſcends from Watry t' a Fiery Element.

But ſtay! could his vaſt Soul retire from hence?

And quit the ruins of decayed ſence,

Without ſome prodigy in Nature ſhown?

No ſwinging Thunderbolt from Heaven thrown?

No diſmal Harbingers of Fate come down?

Sure Nature ſlept, when Fate did ſtrike the blow;

No Earthquakes; no Convulſion-Fits below?

No Star or Fiery Comet in the Sky

To Uſher in this Mans Mortality?

'Tis ſtrange, that thus in Bed he took his Nap!

Could all the Putrid Excrements o' th' Tap

Support the hollow Cask no longer here?

Was't ſo infirm the Lees it could not bear?

Bleſs me! thus free from both th' extreams,

From Tower-hill Sledge and Smithfield Flames,

Serenely did he moulder into Duſt,

And Monſieur Ketch he diſappointed moſt.

His buſie, active Soul (that long was pent

Within a Putrid, ill contrived Tenement)

[Page] Is quietly retir'd; but clog'd with Sin,

And Treaſon, in Elyſium can't get in.

Deny'd his reſt thus in the Seat of Bliſs,

He ſinks below into the damn'd Abyſs:

There he roves now, and reſtleſs, till he find

Some black mouth'd Villain ſuted to his mind.

Bleſs'd be his Fate! in a Dark Priſon nigh,

Old Tapski does St. Stephen there eſpy.

What Salutations paſt the Devil can tell,

The loud report has circulated Hell,

Of this great Man's Arrival here to Dwell.

And here he ſhews State-Gambols and his Tricks,

(For Hell and Holland love good Politicks)

The Livery Men now meet with one intent

To Chuſe this Feind-like Tapski Preſident

The Carpenter tranſported laughs to ſee

His Patron brought in Hell to this degree.

He grins with his extorted ill-look't Face,

And makes now Devil-like a damn'd grimmace,

To ſee Old Tapski mounted in this Place.

Brave Fortune ſure! [...] if it ſtill run even

Farewel our Saint, it will be Captain Stephen.

The new State-Puppet does now Act with care,

With damn'd Old wheedling Tricks grows Popular.

He at the Helm ſits, ſays all things ſure,

No diſmal fear of Arbitrary Power.

Puff't and exalted thus he hates thoſe near

Th' affections of his Maſter Lucifer.

His Soul is like as 'twas when pent in clay

Still forming black Deſigns for Anarchy,

To Stab Hells well compacted Monarchy.

He Swears by Styx and Acheron to ſee,

That Hell like Holland a republick be,

To this the diſcontented damn'd agree.

In order to't this Peſt of every Nation,

Does ſneakingly produce th' Aſſociation.

The damn'd themſelves ſtart at the bold Adventure,

Do there deny to Seal the Indenture.

He frets at this, yet Swears he'l-uſe more Tricks,

He'l win 'em with his City Politicks.

He'l buz the Ignorant Rabble in the Ear,

And them with's Rhetorick poſſeſs with fear:

Tell 'em of Jeſuits Plots and Plots forſouth,

All which theſe credulous Hell-hounds ſnap for truth.

He bawls that Property may be ſecur'd,

Without it all theſe Flames can't be endur'd.

Their ſtench ſays he will Vex us when confin'd;

We're doubly damn'd if once it be deſign'd,

That we ſhould loſe the Freedom of our mind.

The Fundamental Laws of Subjects gone,

When we can't range for ſatisfaction.

[Page] When Chain'd in Dungeons we are paſt relief,

Reſolv'd by ſtratagem I'le be Hell's Chief:

The Joyner with his Two Foot Rule draws near,

Shews his fine Raree-ſhow 'gainſt Lucifer.

To hear his Wit about him they do throng,

And in a Lord's Appartment there 'twas Sung.

The Joyner Swears he came to this intent,

To Square and Plain this Form of Government.

They all Applaud this Man, a Man of parts,

Well skill'd in State, as in Mechanick Arts.

Next him a Bull-fac't Lawyer here approaches,

And with extended Lungs the matter Broaches.

He there pleads high, makes tedious Speeches,

Which pleas'd the miſcreant Authors of the Breaches.

Old Bradſhaw with's Black Catalogue there ſtood,

Of Rebel Whelps bedaub'd with Monarch's Blood;

Tho twing'd with pains, tormented with deſpair,

Yet ſmile to ſee their Brother Tapski there.

Theſe Quondam Judges, Lawyers, Clerks combine

To alter Government, and the State refine,

To Purge the Court from Councellors that are Evil.

They're ſeeming kind to their Old Chief the Devil.

Thus Tapski well ſurrounded with his Friends

Republick Daemons and ſtinking ſulphurous Feinds,

Slyly purſues his Intereſt and by ends▪

At this the Helliſh Brood begin to frown,

They ſee this damn'd Committee're Factious grown,

Their Principles and Practices they diſown.

But Tapski's cunning, ſtill he laughs and leers,

No diſappointment in the matter fears.

Infernal Government his ſquint Eyes view,

But Beelzebub its Charter will renew,

Leſt Tapski look and find a flaw in't too.

Suſpicious Members of the lower Houſe,

By ſtrong reſolves the Stateſ-man indiſpoſe

From bearing Office in their Black Cabal.

(Green-Ribbon Clubs are Epidemical▪)

Tapski degraded thus! What now remains;

What is the conſequence but Links and Chains?

A draught of liquid Brimſtone 'mongſt the Flames?

Strange fate! He's ſeiz'd and hurri'd off th' Stage,

And can't eſcape the Daemon's Popular Rage.

Infernal Officers do rant and tear,

And drag him into Dungeons of deſpair,

'Mongſt Croaking Toads and Adders he's confin'd▪

Which is but ſad diverſion to his mind;

Their diſmal noiſe can't lull the Feind aſleep,

They are but frightful comforts in the Deep.

Now Tapski racks his Brains for a releaſe,

And tries all methods which he thinks may Pleaſe.

He Flatters and Collogues in hopes to gain

Some Intervals of eaſe from lingring pain:

But ſtill his ſly attempts are all in vain.

[Page] Baffl'd by this his Kind, Perſwaſive way

He'll vindicate himſelf by force of Law;

The Helliſh Preſidents and Cuſtoms reads,

And Bradſhaw on his ſide profoundly pleads,

To have an Habeas Corpus this they gueſs,

Will Tapski's Wicked Grievances redreſs.

But Pox! the Learned Sophiſters of Hell

Theſe Artificial Cheats do know full well.

The things deny'd; caſt out, and in the ſence

Of Learned Men its deem'd an high offence.

Tapski a mild recanting Paper brings;

(He fawns ſtill after diſobliging Kings:)

His flatt'ring ſtile they joyntly do refuſe,

His Treaſonous Crimes admit of no excuſe.

He is impeach't, to Tryal he muſt come,

But Tapski hopes for to divert his doom.

If Bethel's Friends in lower Regions be,

He doubts not but the Law will ſet him free.

He'l laugh at Malice and Infernal Furies,

If there he finds his Ignoramus Juries.

And there's one pick't to Tapski well affected,

But they fail now, becauſe not well directed;

The Pilkingtonian Sneaking Trick's detected.

Laſt thus; Old Tapski's Tongue begins to faulter;

And tho by Knaves he hath ſcap't th' Ax and Halter,

Yet now lies mute, dejected and forſaken,

And all the Accomplices of th' Treaſon taken.

In deepeſt Dungeons are theſe Traitors pent,

For thus conſpiring 'gainſt the Government.

A Fury Engines new and ſtrange provides,

To clapperclaw and thwack his Leach'rous ſides,

They're whip't with Rods well ſoak't in Devils Piſs:

(That's worſe then Mother Creſwells flogging is.)

They lowdly roar, and grunt like Hogs in Stye,

Have burning Sulph'rous Flames to drink when dry.

They feel the ſtrange variety of Evils

What's worſe, they're piſs't upon by Tiny Devils,

No Habeas Corpus can theſe Imps remove

From diſmal Bonefires or from burning Stove,

For ever muſt they be confin'd to Chains

No intermiſſion from their horrid pains.

Farewel Old Tapski, curſed at thy Birth,

Thou publick ſcorn of Hell, as well as Earth:

Farewel Old Treaſon, ſince the Traytor now

Is gone a Pilgrimage to Hell below.

Written by a Gentleman of Quality.

§

London, Printed for Walter Davis in Amen-Corner. 1684.

Information about this book

Title statement

The politician's downfall, or, Potapski's arrival at the Netherlands, and the congratulation of the Protestant Joyner at their meeting

Gentleman of quality.

Edition statement

1684

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Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

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Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2008-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A55317

ID [STC]

Wing P2768

ID [STC]

ESTC R8523

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

13736418

ID [OCLC]

ocm 13736418

ID [VID]

101627

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A55317)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 101627)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 847:9)

Source

— The politician's downfall, or, Potapski's arrival at the Netherlands, and the congratulation of the Protestant Joyner at their meeting, Gentleman of quality..

Extent

4 p.

Printed for Walter Davis ...,. London :: 1684.. (In verse.) (Caption title.) (Signed at end: Written by a gentleman of quality.) (Imprint from colophon.) (Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.)

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