THE Polititian's Downfall; OR POTAPSKI's ARRIVAL AT THE NETHERLANDS: And the Congratulation of the Protestant Joyner At their Meeting.
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 2] 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 3] 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 4] 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.
London, Printed for Walter Davis in Amen-Corner. 1684.