Popish Nat's Lamentation, IN A DIALOGUE BETWEEN Nat. Thompson, the Popish Printer, and The Popish Midwife, upon his arrival in Newgate April 5. 1682.
Mid.
ALas! dear Nat, art thou feat hither too,
After that thou hast kept so much adoe?
When we did hope by thee and thy two Tools
T'have seen the silly Protestants made Fools?
How comes it Nat, that it thus comes to pass:
That thou hast prov'd thy self the silly Ass?
Nat.
Dear Mother Midnight, I was now mistaken,
For I believ'd I could have sav'd my Bacon;
Some men there were did Promise, Swear and Vow,
And by the Mass they did confirm it too,
That what they wrot, to print I should not doubt,
And at a pinch that they would bear me out.
Mid.
So say'd they once to me, yet here I ly,
The very men who once let Coleman die.
But yet to comfort thee, whilst thou art here,
Thou shalt have wine, and money, and good cheer:
For I have reason' who have found it so,
To think them the best Keepers I do know.
Nat.
But what will the Curst Whigs now do and say,
Janeway will rant now he has won the day:
Lampoons and Songs, upon me will be made
Laught at by every Fool and huffing Blade,
I shall the talk be now of the whole Town,
And Whigs will boast how they have run me down.
Mid.
Dear Nat 'twas boldly Ventur'd at, to make
The Council prove what you did undertake,
When you declar'd that honorable board.
Would put you into a method proofs, to afford:
Did'st think they would believe our forged stories,
Or that they all were such as we, false Tories.
Nat.
My Impudence which all the world doth know
Has dar'd at that which punies durst not do:
I thought to me it would a safegard prov'd
With those, who I believ'd the Tories lov'd.
But han't they now made good what I did say,
And how to prove it put me in a way?
From Newgate at the first our project flew,
Council we here may get and Witness too.
Mid.
Could'st thou indeed have made the world such Ninnies
As to believe thee, thou had'st got the Guinnies,
Thou had'st been rich, and wallowed in thy pelf,
Could'st thou have prov'd Sir. Godfry kill'd himself:
Thou fairly proferd'st at it, and for that,
They'l write thee in the Calendar St. Nat,
Nat.
Sir. W —whom I have often Curst▪
Will laugh at me until his Buttons Burst,
[Page] [...][Page]Indeed it is a great unhappy Chance,
That my great friend is lately gone to France.
Had she been here, I could have made a shift,
She would have helpt me at so Dead a lift.
Mid.
Chear up thy drooping heart let it not sink,
Here you'l have leasure for to plot and think,
Fear not the Cause dear Nat, tho' thou art here,
Nor do not droop, because the Whigs will jeer.
There's Heraclitus his forces up will muster,
And the Observator twice a week will bluster.
Nat.
But now I'm got into the wicked City,
I know that they of me will have no pitty:
I have abus'd them so they'l now me pay,
Action, on Action, on my back they'l lay
So that, dear Midwife, I begin to doubt,
I from this place shall never more get out,
Mid.
No Ignoramus Juries you will find.
For you to them have always prov'd unkind.
So many in this City given offence,
By putting them in your Intelligence.
That you must now look for no mercy here,
Yet droop not Nat. for we will make good Cheer.
Nat.
I don't the Citisens nor City love,
And shortly did from them intend to move,
I was about some hundreds out to lay,
Had I but come this job and won the day:
I did intend to herd among your crew,
And with my press my gainful Trade pursue.
Mid.
Come Nat, fear not, we shall be rich and great,
The Tories at the last the Whigs shall beat:
The turning Tide begins to flow a pace,
And shortly you will see another face.
My friend th' Astrologer has drawn a Scheme,
He tells me so and I dare Credit him.
Nat.
Unlikely 'tis that Popery should advance,
In England, when 'tis going down in France.
The Whigs of late begin to grin and sneer,
They have more hopes than we do know I fear:
I now may think of all my sins are past,
If they prevail I shall be hang'd at last.
Mid.
Ne'r fear thy Neck, but save thee if we can't,
Dear Nat. thou shalt be made a Tiburn Saint.
And all of us will thy black Sautus sing,
Whil'st thou art going to Heav'n in astring.
At least thou then shalt die with great applause,
And the honour have to suffer for our Cause.
Nat.
Die like a sullen Dog, and ne'r confess,
That I a gainst my Conscience did transgress;
That I was wheadled by the Jesuits train,
And that I turn'd for the ungodly Gain.
Tell me of Saint-ship, and a Religious gere?
I look'd for Gold, and to be Knighted here.
I fear I did not well my Measures cast.
If I at Tiburn should be hang'd at last.
Mid.
I see you'r Melanchollic, let's go in,
And with good Sack, we'l wash away thy sin:
Our hopes are great, our turn will come again,
A Fig for France if we can England Win.
LONDON Prin [...]ed for J. Smith.