THE Royal Voyage. OR THE IRISH EXPEDITION: A Tragicomedy, Acted in the Years 1689 and 90.

Regis ad Exemplum


LONDON; Printed for Richard Baldwin, in the Old-Baley, A. D. 1690.


NOT to cheat thee with a Preface instead of a Book, nor make this Brat of my own Brain such a Rickety Crea­ture, as to have its Head bigger than all the rest of the Body, both middle and t'other end; I'll only dispatch a little ne­cessary business, and then Gentlemen step in and take your Places: Or to be a little more Heroical, the Musick has played the last time, the Candles are all Snuffed, and the Curtain is just about to be drawn up.—Know ye, first and foremost, that the Name of this following Play relates to another part yet to come, which will more signally fill the Title; though this has enough of the Royal Voyage in it to make that good and proper in this, as well as the other. The Con­quest of Granada is only begun in the first part, nay, no more than the Siege on't, yet the propriety of the Title none ever questioned to that part as well as the other.

The next thing I'm to do you, to wit, is, that the End of this Play is chiefly to expose the Perfidious, Base, Cowardly, Bloody Na­ture of the Irish, both in this and all past Ages, especially to give as lively a Scheme as will consist with what's past, so far of the worse than Heathenish Barbarities committed by them on their Peaceable British Neighbours, in that Bloody and Detestable Massacre and Rebellion of Forty One, which will make the Nation stink as long as there's one Bog or Bog-trotter left in it.

Wherein, though every one knows this way of Writing al­lows great Liberty; I protest 'twas impossible to invent more dread­ful things than I found ready to my Hand; nay scarce could a single circumstance be any where added to set their Murders in a better [Page]Light,—the Instances themselves, as History gives 'em, being such glaring ones, that Hell-Fire itself could scarce make 'em brighter. Nor even here have I taken any thing for granted, though there's so much abundant Evidence of the truth of all here asserted, even from the acknowledgment of some more ingenuous among 'em, Beling, Walsh, &c. of their own Writers, and from the Pride and glory which others of them take in relating what then happened, instead of those few Hundred Thousands Murder'd, only wishing that All had gon the same way; but dropping that advantage, have confined my self even to the Chastness of an Historian, examining as the Reader will find, all the material Objections those wicked People can make to our Accusations, and all those thin Excuses where­with they generally impose upon the Ignorant, and in vain en­deavour to palliate their unheard of Inhumanities. I am confident I have herein done 'em Justice, and urged their Arguments as far and as home, perhaps closer, than any of them could have done for themselves. And if I have made one Exception from the general Rule, and introduced one Irishman amongst 'em all, brave and ho­nest (as far as his Cause would let him be,) to foil the rest; if I have gone a little beyond the Pale, and left Truth behind me, 'tis a pardonable fault, and the more easily, because perhaps it mayn't be so common to err on the side of Good-nature. In his Character it's indeed designed to shew that there may possibly be some Individuals among 'em better than the rest of the Nation.—In that of all the rest, that if such a thing happens, 'tis but a chance, and won't often be brought into Example by the others. After all, let any Man take the pains but to read the Irish Histories, Foreigners as well as others, nay their own too, if he has any patience, into the bargain, and if he does not confess that I have not, nay cannot misrepresent the Irish, when I speak any thing ill of 'em, I'll be content to be sent over in­to that blessed Island, and live there 'till I've forgot my Mother Tongue, and grow as Irish as O Hanlan's, &c) as their mannerly Proverb has it.)

Tho on t'other side, so far is this piece from any Reflection on the British there, that one main end thereof is to give 'em their due En­comiums, and just Honour.

In order whereunto, the principal brave Actions performed by them at the wonder of the World, and confusion of their Enemies, under all apparent disadvantages imaginable, Treachery of some, Cowar­dise of others, want of Necessaries, a numerous well-provided Ar­my pressing against 'em, are not (as many as could be handsomly brought in here) neglected, tho' the Historical order, unnecessary here, perhaps not observed.

For the manner in which those actions are introduced, 'tis done the most inoffensively that could be possibly contrived; —'tis out of choice that I have named no Persons, unless of the Enemies side. —As all shared in the Danger, so let 'em all in the Glory,—what­ever parties there might then be, or are since, there shall be none in this Play, but English and Irish.

That the desirable work of their entire Conquest may soon be ac­complished, which all Europe as well as England groans for, the Second part of this Drama really acted, and our glorious King William there conquering all our Enemies, I am sure every honest Man wishes as heartily as I do; — for those who hope the contrary, tho' their own Countries, Europe's, and Religion's implacable Enemies, I'd wish 'em no greater plague, than possessed with all the Rage, Ma­lice, and defeated desperate Wickedness of an Irish-man, to stand by and see our great victorious Prince enter Triumphantly into his Royal City of Dublin, — which a few Weeks may in all fair pro­bability produce, and a few more the Second Part of the Royal Voyage, or Irish Expedition.


  • Tyrconnel,
  • Primate,
  • Archbishop of Cashel,
  • Nugent,
  • Neagle,
  • Irish Lords,
  • Hamilton,
  • Macarty,
  • Talbot,
  • Butler,
  • Clancarty,
  • Macdonald,
  • Irish Soldiers, Messengers, Officers, &c.
  • Governor of Inniskilling,
  • Collonels, Souldiers, &c.
  • Governor of Derry,
  • Collonels, Souldiers,
  • English Captains with Relief to Derry,
  • English General,
  • Souldiers, Officers, &c.

THE ROYAL VOYAGE: OR, THE Irish Expedition.


[Enter Tyrconnel, Nugent, Neagle, Mac-carty, Hamilton, the titula Archbishop of Cashell, and Primate; Irish Lords.
THus far the CAƲSE has with Success been crown'd;
And Great St. Patrick blest his sacred Ground;
Has been his own lov'd Country-men's Defence,
And chac'd the English Toads and Serpents hence.
Again shall Ireland her old Name renew;
'Tis now a Land of Saints and Heroes too;
Th' Asylum long before design'd for those
Sent into Exile by their faithless Foes;
That safe, that happy Sanctuary, where
By our great Faith's Defenders pious Care,
The Church it self can now glad Refuge find,
Leaving her cheated desperate Foes behind.
Cash Like Arethusas's Stream, her Fountain clear
Dives under Earth, and Sea, and rises here:
[Page 2]
But never shall we her fair Spring restore,
As pure and limpid as it was before,
Unless we hollow the polluted Flood,
And purge out Heretick-Stains with Hereticks Blood.
The very thought does my chill Age renew,
And almost make Armagh a Souldier too.
O Portendown! that happy Day is past;
Grief stays too long, and Pleasure runs too fast:
I saw, and 'twas a wisht, a welcome sight
As e'er was shewn: By Heavens bright burning Light,
I saw the wandring Flood new-blacken'd o'er,
And shoals of Bodies washed down the shore,
Whilst fresh Supplies still o'er the Breach were thrown,
'Till there at last was hardly room to drown.
And thinks your Grace this was a sight so proper,
For one whose Character shou'd be Compassion,
Pity, and Love, all like our mighty Maker?
I, though long steel'd in Camps, and drench'd in War,
To Execution us'd, and Blood, and Carnage,
(Fatal Effects of necessary Cruelty)
I rather shou'd have wish'd to have given the Lives
To all those Wretches, though at the expence
Even of my own.
—Are you a Catholick?
Yes, and will die one. —But cou'd I believe
That my Religion taught the same that you do,
I rather wou'd turn Heretick, Turk, or Pagan,
Than be so one hour longer.
Scarce can the stupid Ignorance excuse you;
A Heretick himself could say no more.
Hath not the sacred Lateran Council made it
An Article as needful to Salvation,
As any of the Creed, That this curst Fry,
Rebels to Holy Church, shou'd be destroy'd
By Fire and Sword, or any other way,
Where-e'er they'r found, like other Beasts of Prey?
[Page 3]
While that of Constance makes this other easie,
And bids us keep no Faith with those that have none:
A pious, necessary, useful, comfortable Doctrine!
You are a Souldier—'Tis a Stratagem:
Those still in War are lawful —And I'll tell you
Once more, If this you know not, Sir, you'r guilty
Of Ignorance inexcusable—. Why 'tis
The very Cement of the CAƲSE, the Blood, the Life
Of Holy Mother: (Yet you are to learn
Your Catechise.) —'Tis what her eldest Son
Has practised many Years. See how he's blest,
How all succeeds. and he speaks Fate in Europe.
If this you know, as how can you be ignorant
Of what each Catholick, especially
Each IRISH-Man sucks with his first-drawn Milk.
(Whoever here of all your Country-men,
Besides that false Apostate Wretch Clanrickard,
Was guilty known, of such an easie Meanness)
Repent, or else expect the Church's CURSE.
The heavy Doom that waits; for by her Laws
Your ipso facto Excommunicate.
My Lord, 'tis not a time for these Discourses:
Though his weak Conscience cannot yet digest
Such manly Food, we know he's firm to th' Cause;
Brave! and wou'd freely lose a Life i'th' Quarrel:
Rather let's think, and, with united Councels,
Consider what we've done, and where we are.
Think? What have we to think of? First let's act;
'Tis time enough to think when that is done:
'Tis a plain Imposition on our Natives.
To fall on such unnecessary Work:
We have an Hundred Thousand Men in Arms;
None but the wretched Relies of Rebellion,
That dare withstand us here: Let's o'er to England,
That golden Land, where Palms and Laurels wait us,
Delicious Murthers, and sweet Massacres:
[Page 4]
Hang, Drown, Stab, Burn, B [...]oil, Eat, Damn our proud Conquerors.
That will do well; 'tis excellently motion'd;
What brave Milesan wou'd not stake his Soul
On the Design? But first let's clear our own,
Ere we attempt on others Lands. Those Relies
You talk of, are like Vipers Spawn, if not
Crusht speedily, in time they'll grow too sturdy,
And send their Venome hissing o'er the Island:
First send fair Words, good Terms, sweet-honied Proffers,
(Which we know how to keep) clear once the North,
Derry, and Inniskilling, all's our own:
Give 'em what Articles they please themselves,
Promises cost not much; they may believe;
The English all are kind-believing FOOLS,
Or now had been our Masters: If this takes,
We have our Men, and vain Expence of Blood,
For better Purposes.
1. Irish Lord.
Wou'd that were over;
I'd be content, cou'd we secure our own;
Nor ever much ambition'd Foreign Conquests:
The English sooner Cheated are, than Beaten;
We must expect a formidable Army
Shortly in our Bowels: Though their Hands
Are raising long, they generally fall heavy.
2. Lord.
My Lord, I must entirely join with you;
We owe our Safety to their Easiness:
Had they not kindly thought we wou'd come over,
And yield the Sword, entreating they'd accept
That, and our Lives; we scarec had now been talking
How we shou'd conquer them: And, to say truth,
That was a Master-piece of Irish Cunning,
To drill 'em on with Promises and Oaths
Of free submission, when they'd please to take it,
Till we were able to laugh at 'em, and
Despise their Threatnings. I own 'twas justly managed,
[Page 5]
And very pleasantly was that fine Fool
Entrapt, who promis'd England such Success,
Such Mountains of Foreign Hopes from Secret Treaties,
The end too crown'd the Work: When he perceiv'd
We were not quite so good to keep our Words
The Generous Fool dispatch'd himself for Shame,
To be out-witted by an Irish Man:
And heartily I wish, as any here,
The Frolick would go round, till we possess'd
Their Vacant Hives, without the toyl of Firing
The Drones away; (tho' then we lost the Pleasure
Of Killing, and the Lechery of Murder;)
But Since they won't go on in a good Work,
We must take Care to keep secure, by force,
What we by Art have won; First, clear those Garrisons;
(Talk'd of, perhaps, more easily then done;)
Secure the Country next from Rapparees,
Who else will soon destroy the breed of Cattle,
And bring a Famine, spite of all our plenty,
That done, a Magazeen of Arms sufficient,
Provision too, against what casually
May happen, and that certain Desolation
Armies and War bring with 'em; then we may
Think on the other Projects.
A Curse on this Luke-warmness, in the Cause,
It ruines all; Was't not these Noble Lords,
These Valiant Heroes, who (in Council) pressed
To have the Prince Proclaim'd?
1st. L.
Yes, and we judged,
We then had Reason; had not first the King
Both quitted England, and obliged his Subjects,
Armies, Commanders, Officers and Garrisons,
To yield to Orange? Did not a sure Friend
(As some we still have there) send us a Pacquet,
Advising this, and his departure following,
[Page 5]
We knew not where? Shou'd all have been exposed
To a Head-strong, Wild, Ungovernable Rabble?
No more my Lords, the Case is alter'd since,
And we have Arms from France, whose generous Prince,
Delight of all Mankind, with pious Care,
Our Royal Refuge has welcom'd there:
Strong Succours thence we wait, nor shall we fail,
The Catholick Cause, with them, must needs prevail;
The while, my Lords, we all must rest content,
The Fate of War there's nothing can prevent;
Disorders make the Souldiers brave and bold,
You break him if too close the Reins you hold;
Besides, our Troops on nothing else can live;
But what our vanquish'd Slaves Estates can give;
When they are humbled, and their stock brought low;
For theirs, we need not doubt, the first will go,
'Twill then, be time, my Lords! to think on you.
Be you, and your Estates, our chiefest Care,
On pain of Death they shall your Fields forbear;
But first, the Northern Rebels let's subdue,
At Derry, and at Inniskilling too;
The First your Lot
[to Hamilt.]
The Second fall to you,
[to Mac.]
My Lord I doubt not, speedily to give
A better Account of them, then ere to England
Of my Wise Errand hither; nor was ought
Lost, by my not returning, but my Word,
A few loose Vows, perhap an Oath or Two,
And Airy Honour pawn'd; let 'em make much on't,
And seize those precious Pledges for my stay,
While with this Sword, I th'Obligation pay;
And hasten to my welcome Charge, away.
Exit Hamilton.
I cannot promise much, our Troops are raw,
Have seen no Enemy, if Disciplin'd
For a few Months, yet grown by their late Freedom
Glaggard and Wild, Unruly, Careless, Vain;
[Page 7]
The Enemy Desperate, Numerous, Firm and Hearty,
But what I can perform, in Act or Council,
Whether by Expedition or Surprize,
If they too heedless, as they often are;
Or by fair fighting, if they stand the Field;
Or formal Siege, if they still keep the Town,
I will attempt, and do, if Fate play fair,
Or leave my Life behind.
We know you Sir,
Your Courage and your Conduct, take the best
Of all our Troops; proceed, success attend you,
While we go order your Dispatch, and send
Once more to th' Rebels, if fair means avail,
And save our Troubles, and their own Destruction.
Exeunt Omnes.


[Enter Irish Rabble, Men, Woman and Children; the Men with Swords and Clubs, the Women with Skenes, the Children with wooden Swords and Knives. A Piper before 'em (as was their usual Custom) with a Prey of Black and small Cattle, which they had robbed the English of.)
[1st o'th' Rabble.]

Rare times, by Saint Patrick; the best that Ire­land ever saw, by my Soul Joy; why who wou'd be at the Trouble to raise and breed Cattle of their own, when the Heretick Dogs can do't to our Hands, without any pain?

2. —

Right Neighbour Teague; and besides they are all our Te­nants, not we Theirs; for I heard Father Dominick, our Priest, make a Swear, that this was all our Country, Five Thousand Years before the New-Moon was made, and the English Thieves never came hither to rob us of our own till the next Year after the Flood was over.

3. —

Well, See what 'tis to have Learning; they must talk what they will, but if I know any thing, there's ne'r a Clergy, in Christendom to compare with the Irish; only the Truth is, they do lead a stray a Cheese, or a Flitch of Bacon, now and then; and sometimes the Bottle of Ʋsquebagh straggles after it. But all that's as easily forgiven as they do us, since they have so kindly prov'd the Lawfulness and Necessity of our plundering the English, their Snacks always reserved and reason good.

4. —

But to see how stubborn and impudent some of these Pro­testant Devils are; I went to one of 'em that had been once my Ma­ster, (tho' now the Case is alter'd), and bid him give me a Cow; the impudent Pascal denied it to my Face, which so much provok'd me, as well it might, I had stuck my Skene in his Guts, had not some other of his Crew hindred me. who are all since fled together, to the Northern Rebels, where I hope, shortly, to have the hanging of Two or Three Dozen of 'em.

1. —

They are e'n too kindly used, that makes 'em so malepert, what would they be Angels? Would they have more than their Lives? Unconscionable Dogs; their Brains deserved to be knock'd out if 'twere for no other Reason.

2 —

Ay, That's the only way, after all. Ah Neighbours! had you seen, but what I ha' seen; we have made some sport on't for­merly, but now this Foolish pity spoils all. If you had but heard how the Hereticks yelp'd, when we burnt a Hundred of them in a House together. Oh! I cou'd have humour'd it to the Life then; but now I grow hoarse, and have almost forgot it; I remember there was one sprawling Brat, of a Year or Two Old, that the Mother on't, or some body, had thrust out to save its Life; but how we all laugh'd when one of our Company stuck it a top of his Pike, to see the little Bastard sprawl about with his Legs and Arms, till he pitch'd it over again into the Fire, and made an end on't.

3. —

What's that to the Invention of my Old Grand-Mother, rest her Soul, tho her Body was hang'd for't: My Father had ripp'd up Two or Three fat Persons Bellies, and the good saving Creature, finding they tallowed well, took out their Grease, and made Can­dles of it: But never was a pleasanter sight, than to see how it dripp'd [Page 9]in the Candle-stick, as if they had been sweating at it in their Pul­pit agen.

5 —

That was nothing neither, to what work we made with one of 'em; we ripp'd up his Belly, and tied one end of his small Guts to a Tree, driving him round till he had pull'd 'em all out, and then knock'd him o'th' Head, and with our common Farewel, tho' to good for 'em, sent his Soul to the Devil.

2. —

Ha, ha, ha! That was pretty well; but I think our Town was even with you; we had kill'd about Twenty, or some such small Business, of English Whores, and afterwards finding one of their Brats, in a Cradle, bawling for Meat, took it out, and put it to the Breast of the dead Jade his Mother, bidding the young Bastard suck if't had any mind to't, and there left it for the Dogs to eat them to­gether.

4. —

All in good time, we may yet serve 'em the same sawce. In the mean while, let's be reveng'd on any thing that belongs to their Country. Their Lubberly Breed of Black-Cattle here, what shall we do with 'em all? We'll find some way or other to torment, as well as get rid of 'em, and they'll have little Cause to complain, that are used as well as their Masters.

2. —

Let's serve 'em as we did the Fellow, I told you of, Tie 'em to a Stake, and cut off pieces of their Flesh alive; by this we shall have the double Pleasure of tormenting 'em, and seeing how finely they'll dance and roar to make us Musick.

1. —

By Saint Pautrick, but that be a very good way, Joy! Agreed; all Hands to work here. What, Do these hang an Arse, and pretend to be Refractory, as well as their Masters? There, — this is fast enough: Come, — First let's have a Song, and then fall on, at the Word of Gommand.

[They Sing an Irish Song, Dancing round a fat English Ox, ti­ed to a Stake; and as soon as that was over, fall all together upon it, cutting out pieces of them alive, and broiling it upon the Coals. In the mean while, a small Party of English, surprize, and fall upon 'em; on which, all the Rabble set up the Irish yell, and run away without striking a stroke.]
1. Englishman.
A Soul-less heap of Animals! that Nobler Beast
They here torment, has infinite more Valour,
Than all their Rascal Nation, piled together.
2. —
Are these the Champions, these the Stil-Cow Heroes,
Must Conquer England? Sure 'twould be a Problem
Well worth resolving; How many of 'em
Must go to killing one of us: I shou'd
Be flatter'd to esteem my Self immortal,
Had I a Lease of Life, till they cou'd take it.
3. —
Slaves! long-worn Slaves, and Ten times baffled Rebels,
Were one poor English-man (design'd by Fate,
By Courage, Earth, and Heaven it self their Master)
Tied to a Post, as this poor Beast before us,
Among a Thousand of those Cut-Throat Monsters
Were but his Face uncover'd, cou'd they see him
See but their Master, sure they scarce dar'd stab him.
I question'd if the Cowards would not tremble,
Until their bloody Baggonets forsook
Their Guilty Hands.
4. —
No Sir, you are mistaken,
Then is their very time; or then or never;
Unless, when loaded with base Multitude;
And rather press'd to Death, than fairly kill'd.
They can't so much as Murder one of ours.
O they are bold as Lions, rather Wolves,
When they on helpless Women light, or Children,
Or Men unarm'd, helpless, and weak, as they.
2. —
But lest we meet, the Fate which oft has happen'd
To our brave Countrymen, and fall a Prey,
Born down and trodden with inglorious Numbers;
Let's cut our way to Derry, for this part
O'th' Country's all their own; but there 'tis said
They stem the Fide, already shut the Gate
Against their Troops.
1. —
Fair Fortune still attend 'em,
And Crown their Courage with well purchased Lawrels,
[Page 11]
Whilst to their Succour, and our own we flie,
And bravely conquer, or as bravely die.
[Exeunt Omnes.]


Enter Tyrconnel, the Primate, Cashel, Nugent, Neagle.
How tame the harmless Sheep convey'd himself
To a safe Prison! O 'twas a wise Message,
To ask leave to bestow so large a Kingdom,
Almost for less than asking. Thoughtless Mountjoy,
Whose Embassy, no doubt, is kindly taken;
Thy self for more Magnificence and Grandeur,
In highest State art lodg'd at the Bastile.
Chiefly to you we owe that piece of Policy,
Nor shall it fail Reward: He need not fear
A kind Reception, when so true a Friend
As Rice goes with him; but we must have News,
The Wind stands fair from Brest, and they must needs
Be long ere this arriv'd.
Sure the very Thoughts of our admired, adored, true Cath. K.
Thus honouring this lov'd Country, with his Presence,
Will make us all invincible.
Then shall the Rebels know what 'tis to affront him;
'Tis their turn now. The English are the Rebels,
And we their Rightful, Loyal, conquering Masters.
And have a Title that's uncontroverted,
A Hundred Thousand Men besides the King;
And who dares call him Rebel that has either
Of these Two Glorious Helpers to his Cause?
The very Name of one so much belov'd,
So long desired by all our Country-men,
[Page 12]
And justly, for as much he honours them
With his kind Thoughts,—his single Name wou'd do,
Without an Army, and inspire new Courage
If any wanted it—'twas he alone,
Who thro' the last false dangerous Trimming Reign,
Screen'd off the fury of the Rebels from us;
Got that proud Heretick, imperious Ormond,
Oftner than once remov'd. 'Twas he who found
The Treacherous Essex, who buoyed up the English,
And their decaying Interests against us.
He found him out at last, spite of his Policy,
And did reward him in due time and place.
—But when kind Fate, or of her own accord;
Or jogg'd by some Officious Catholick Hand,
Broke Charles his Linsy-Woolsey Line of Life,
When our bright Star ascended his Meridian,
And shot his Beams from London to our Isle,
What Loyal Face was seen without a smile?
Scarce will our Joy, or Juster, be or more,
When with his Royal Feet, he treads our Shore.
Be it our Care, the while t' amuse the People,
Persuade 'em he's arriv'd already her;
This will affright the English, if they'd stir,
And raise the Courage of our Country-men.
Were we not Politicians, things exempt
From the dull common road of Just and Right,
In which the World drudge on; yet our Religion
Permits, nay, does encourage such a Lye
As serves the Church, and that no doubt's wrapt up
Together, with our Cause, and stands or falls,
As we do here.
[Enter Servants.] A Courier wants Admittance to your Excellency.
Go fetch him in.
These from Versailles, my Lord, some few days since.
[Delivers Letters.] From the King's Royal Hand I did receive 'em.
Say, How was his Reception and Attendance
In that great Court?
Magnificent and Royal;
Shou'd he return a Conqueror to London,
Scarce cou'd the Pomp be greater. Guards were sent
To attend him on the Road; a fair Retinue
Of young Nobility soon found to wait him:
And when he came, we scarce knew which was King.
were any Preparations going forward
For his appearing here?
All that was possible;
And the Great LEWIS swore to all his Court,
If any wou'd almost Oblige their Prince,
'Twou'd be by waiting on the ROYAL EXILE,
Vent'ring their Lives on one joint Stock with HIS.
A Squadron was equipp'd at Brest, as I
Came through the Harbour, all prepared, and ready
To attend him thither.
His Letter speaks as much;
Having read the Pacqu [...]
Ere this time he's embarked, the Wind stands fair;
And large Supplies of Money, and of Men,
Will with him soon be here, (if it were possible)
To inspire more Life into our vigorous Cause.
And shall we be too merciful and tender,
And ruine all agen, as once before?
Then we deserve to fall unpitied too,
Pointed and laugh'd by each zealous Catholick,
The Scorn of every Heretick in Europe:
No; had good Counsel been but follow'd, when
We last appeared for the same noble Cause.
Had those who safely then advised Kill All.
Been hearken'd to, we'd long ere this been Masters,
And Ireland full as Catholick as Spain.
But O this easie, foolish, cruel Pity!
This Ague of Mankind, far worse than Fear!
This Palsie of the Soul, which makes it tremble,
[Page 14]
When ought that's Daring calls ir out to act!
Others there were, forsooth, for gentler Methods
For Speeding; none but such as die resist:
And thus the Matter hung, 'till 'twas resolv'd
All shou'd be left at liberty; Or kill,
Or save alive, as Bravery or Weakness
Shou'd prompt 'em; and we since have felt the Event;
We did Our Business by not doing Theirs:
The safer wiser, much more Catholick Way,
Had been on highest pain of Church's Thunder,
Incurring greater Excommunication
As after; though too late we did at James-Town,
And soon blew Mighty Ormond from the Kingdom;
Nor valu'd his Commission from his Master,
Since both were Hereticks: On all the Pains
Of this and t'other World, (for both do well together)
To have forbid all Quarter; Children, Women,
And all their cursed Brood one Sacrifice.
We now have one Throw more; if that we lose,
Farewel for ever.
Stay for the Bear's Skin;
Secure the Dam, or we ne'er get the Cubs:
Derry and Inniskilling once our own,
All is so; then we may have all our Wishes.
(Enter Courier.)
Here comes a Face of News; let's have it speedily.
The King is safely landed at Kingsale,
And comes directly hither: All the Country
Roll after him: We ne'er cou'd want Arms,
Had we none Listed.
Ring the Bells; let Bonfires,
Illuminations, all the Expressions possible
Of Joy be made; the Conduit fill with Claret,
(Another Liquor, though of the same Colour
Much nobler were) Draw up the the Guards in readiness;
Let th' Aldermen be ready in their Robes.
'Tis done already; all is freely done,
[Page 15]
And more, as I came by and told the News:
For very Joy, the English Dogs are plunder'd
Of all they have; their Houses Bonfires made;
Well if they 'scape Themselves.
'Tis rarely well—O this dear pious Rabble!
Honest plain-hearted People! How I love 'em!
My very Soul seems of a piece with theirs:
Here's no Dissimulation; that I hate;
No mincing o'er the Business; but plain-dealing,
Without the curst Disguise of Policy,
The odious luke-warm Temper dresses in.
As he in highest Pomp past through Killkenny,
The Elegant Recorder made a Speech,
Which Tully could not mend; scarce equal it:
I have a Copy here.
Let's see it immediately.
Cashel Reads.

May it please Your most sacred Majesty,

If ever Rain was welcome to the thirsty Earth, the Sun to fro­zen Greenland, or Bonny-clabber to the gaping Jaws of an hungry Irish-man, your Majesty is welcome, trebly welcome, to this your LOYAL Kingdom. 'Twould be time vainly spent, to inform a Person so well read, so deeply skill'd in Books and History, as your Majesty, how many thousand thousand Years your Majesty's Royal Ancestors have Sway'd the Scepter of this Blessed Island. In the thirty three thousandth Year, it was precisely of Plato's great Circle, when your Progenitors first landed here, as we find atte­sted in the most Authentick Chronicles of this our ancient Nation: Nor was it many Thousands after, ere we made a Descent into Scotland, routed the heretical Kirk there, planted by Cain's great Grandson, and establish'd the primitive Catholick Religion, which has remain'd unto this day, among the civil Highlanders there, as [Page 16]well as in this your no less Accomplished Kingdom. We must take leave to protest, We can hardly be sorry that the rebellious Here­ticks of your Neighbour-Nation, have given us so splendid an oc­casion of letting your Majesty see our Loyalty, and they feel our our Valour. Now is the time, or very near is it approaching, when your rebellious Exeter, your fanatical Bristol, your treache­rous York, and your ungrateful London, and all the other little Hamlets there, shall fly before the conquering Arms of your Loyal Dublin, and ever-renowned Kilkenny, when in the midst of the loud Acclamations of the heroical Irish, and Curses of your grovling Rebels, we re-seat you in the ancient Throne, with as much Glory as ever you left it.

Who now dares say our Country-men are Blockheads?
Here is a Speech almost worth Paradise.
Turning to Nugent.
Scace that, my Lord, you spake at Council-Table,
When one of our Embassadors at London,
So highly admired, that as I oft have heard,
The very Boys, though Spawn of Hereticks,
Ran by your Coach, and clapt you as you went;
Scarce that cou'd this exceed.
My Lord I own it:
And more, he has himself out-done, as well
As we; and were it possible, done right
Unto the great Occasion.
We've now to time to spend in such Discourses;
The King himself in a few hours sees Dublin:
Each moment I expect a Post from the North;
And cou'd we but present him with the News,
As I much hope, that those two stubborn Towns,
Are in our hands, 'twou'd be a grateful Welcome.
More grateful News that Messenger would tell,
Who brought Advice,
That they and all within 'em sunk to Hell.


Enter the Governour, two Collonels, Captains, &c.
NOw for our Honour, Country, and our Lives,
And more than all, the Protestant Religion.
All beckon out the brave — this World and t'other,
Courage and Nature, all that's dear and sacred,
Both warrant and oblige Resistance here.
Be Slaves to th' Irish, such as have been ours,
Almost beyond the reach of Chronicle;
So long 'till 'tis at last as much their Nature,
As Falshood, Cowardice and Cruelty!
So long, they dare not sure be otherwise;
And 'twas indeed their choice, their backs were made for't,
Their Souls just of a size and bore that spoke 'em
What they have spoke themselves — yet when we found 'em,
(Call'd over by themselves under our Henry)
Bruitishly base as Nature made or Hell
Reform'd 'em, sunk in sins too black to name,
Murders as common as Adulteries,
Incests or Rapes — no sence of just or right,
No Law, no Faith, no Truth, no Manners left.
When thus we found 'em, only at first content
With some few Castles there, we those reliev'd,
Who begg'd our aid, and peaceably still liv'd,
'Till what so fair we bought they'd have retain:
With Treachery, Perj [...]ry, Blood-shed, they began,
Nor have degenerated — when our own Defence
Forc'd us to Arms, when Strong bow, Courcy, Lacy,
(Only two mighty Names) i'th' Chance of War,
Obtain'd whole Counties from 'em, or indeed
From Wolves and Bogs, and Fastnesses and Woods;
And our great Henry with a Royal Army
The Conquest perfected — we found 'em savage,
But left 'em Men — or wou'd at least have done it,
Had they consented, as they feign'd to do.
They flunk and ran, and truckled to their Conqu'ror,
They kneel'd, and crouch'd, and fawn'd, and lickt his Feet.
He gave 'em Life, and more, he gave 'em Laws,
Redeem'd 'em from themselves and one another,
Whose only rule before was Brutal Force,
And when they all had sworn perpetual Fealty,
Restor'd their Countrey better than before.
1. Coll.
Oft have we read the Story, oft have wonder'd
At this repeated Treachery and Blood;
Until so oft repeated, 'twas no wonder
They never injur'd us, but when we trusted
To their good Nature, Vows, or slight-spun Oaths,
Snapt easily as weak Arachne's thred.
2. Coll.
'Tis hard that these at last must be our Masters —
Nor shall they be, while we have Hands or Swords,
Nay, Teeth or Nails — (weapons to fight with Beasts)
O 'tis transporting Pleasure thus to dye,
Rather than live Slaves to the insulting Irish.
Live Slaves to th' Irish! if some Angel bid us,
I shou'd make bold to question his Commission;
Whom by so many hundred Skirmishes,
So many Battels and almost new Conquests,
After their vain, their fruitless kind Rebellions,
By which their Title they so justly lost
To what remain'd— whom we so oft have broke,
And trod their stubborn necks so oft in dust
At vast expence of English Coin and Blood,
Infinitely more than e're the Island's worth,
— Yet still our fatal Goodness ruin'd all,
Forgiving faster than they could offend,
'Till now we feel our Kindness and their Gratitude,
Almost too late —
1 Coll.
And yet 'tis not so strange for Brutes to act
As Nature prompts 'em, bite, and snarl, and struggle,
And gnaw their Chain — but that a humane Creature,
A Man should Brutifie so much,
To learn their Manners, eat and drink like they,
And yell, and rove, and sport, nay couple with 'em,
Till they descend, and creep in the same manner;
'Tis strange indeed — Yet thus and worse do those
Who have so long bin conversant among 'em,
'Till what by Meetings, Intermarriages
And Gossippings, they grow as errand Irish,
Stark bruitish, mad, wild things as ever howl'd
O're a dead Carkass — For the Wolves and they
With the same Order, self-same Ceremony
And Note, and Tune, over the Dead lament.
What Death, what Punishment is equal to
This Sin, this Crime, this worse than bestiality?
— But 'tis too soon or late for such a Question,
This one effort they make, and have pusht home,
To clear the land of their not wish'd Instructors,
And be as barbarous as they were before.
If this they gain not, they are lost for ever,
If this we gain, henceforth 'tis ours for ever.
'Tis true, there's little left, but that's worth keeping.
England is still our own, and that brave Prince
Who holds the Crown with strong and rightful hand,
Will not forsake our Interest and his own.
Then happy they who bravely stem the Wave,
'Till he holds out his Hand our sinking Bark to save.
2. Coll.
We shall have Storms — the Sea works hard and loud,
The gathering Floods look big, and scowl along
Rolling far off — from all hands we've advice
Macarty with the Flower of all their Forces
Approaches hither, and has vow'd to lay
His Bones here, or subdue us.
That may be —
For he has Honour, and 'tis not unlikely,
He will do one or t'other — which o'th two
Lies yet in Fates dark womb — Do Heaven its pleasure;
Let's act like Men, and either live or dye so.
2. Coll.
They say indeed that Gentleman you named
Is a meer Prodigy of an Irish man,
A stranger thing than Toad or Serpent were,
That he's both brave and honest in despite
Of his curst Country, and as curst Religion.
And his good natural temper has workt out
The Venom of 'em both — In brief he wants
Only a better Cause and better Master:
Grant him but that and better Souldiers too,
I'd not desire a braver Enemy.
Captain. What e're he is, you'll have him quickly here,
As o're the Neighbouring Hills I scowr'd this Morn,
We saw some Troops, which sure cou'd be no other
Than advanc'd Guards to his Army.
When he please —
We wou'd not willingly be unprepared
Of kind reception for so great a Stranger.
— Go draw your Forces up under the Walls,
We'll meet, not wait 'em — Captain! be't your care
With a smart flying Party to discover
Once more what Face they bear, and of what number;
(Thô that's the least, we'll fight 'em, thô a Million)
Beware of Ambushes, the Graves o'th' English,
Which there have bury'd ten times more than e're
They in fair Battle lost. — Each Man to his Charge.
Exeunt Omnes


Enter Macarty, Officers, Souldiers, — Exercising.
ARe these the Men design'd to conquer Kingdoms?
The miserable Props of bleeding Ireland:
Simplicity and Cowardice mixt in
Such just proportion, none knows which surpasses.
Why must I blame my Countrey-men, yet why
Do they deserve 't? — Were any Cause besides
My King's concern'd, I'd never trust my self
At the Head of 'em — These the best, cull'd Men!
Sure they ne're handled Musquet, Pike or Sword
Before this Expedition — Let's however
See what we must expect — Serjeant, draw out
A File or two, and exercise 'em here.
The Officer draws 'em out, and after the other usu­al words of Command, bids 'em
Face to the Right!
They all fall into Confusion, some facing one way, some t'other.
O stupid, worse than Beasts — I'll teach my Horse
What is too high for them!
Officer sets 'em in order agen, and then Commands.
To the left!
They fall into the same Confusion they were in before.
I never knew 'em constant but in Mischief,
And there they never fail —
Once more they are reduced, and the Word given.
To the left about!
They all throw down their Arms and run quite away.
There only did they not at all deceive
My Expectations—Shall I rave or pity 'em?
Are these fit men to face well-order'd Troops,
Flesht with Success and a long Train of Victories?
Well Gentlemen,—We must be Sacrific'd,
And that's the worst—We die for a good Master,
For such we ever ought to think our King;
But yet I can't without regret resign
A Life which might with yours have done some Service,
If not Encumber'd with a useless Rabble
Miscall'd an Army.
1. Officer.
Twas perhaps chance,
Those Raw, Rude-Fellows lately were drawn out,
The others sure are better, — 'Tis impossible
They shou'd be all so.
One and all I fear,
However, order forth another Party,
And see what they'll do.
The Officer draws out others —Gives the words — They do all well enough till he bids 'em Fire, — one half never does it at all, the other one after another, and most of them wink, and shoot just in one anothers Faces, — at which concluding themselves kill'd, one part drops down, and t'other runs away.
The very Emblem of a Battle this!
And this I expect — they n'ere shall cheat me more.
2. Officer.
Tho' they are somewhat inexpert, my Lord,
They may be brave and faithfull when they meet
The Enemy — whom yet they never saw.
There stands a little Castle not far off,
Man'd by some fifty Foot — 'tis Old and Weak,
They've little Ammunition — If on this
We flesht 'em, t'wou'd do well, they'd rowze their Courage,
Which yet has drowsie lain for want of Action.
Tho' but too easily I guess th' Event,
I'll not forebode — and seeing fight we must,
As good begin — Detach 500 Foot,
A Company of Granadeers may joyn 'em;
Sure those will carry't, or the Army won't.
Mean time the rest to Council to resolve,
How we must manage this unlucky business,
And where to most advantage aly our Bones.
Exeunt Omnes


Enter 3 or 4 Souldiers — Mac-Shane, O Donnel, Teigue, &c.

BY my Shoul now if ever poor Teigue saw the like in my Life. Why my Gossip ty'd a Red Ribon about my left hand that I might be sure to know it from my right,— and the Ugly-Dog Rogue of an English Serjeant bid me turn to the Right, and put me quite out.


But was n't mine Stranger than that too?—may they maak haung upon my Mothers Son if I did did not turn the same way both times, and yet the Churl said I was right the first, and wrong the second time.

O Donnel.

And when he bid us Face about, I thought t'had bin to charge the Enemy — so daring not be out of my Ranks at such a dangerous time, ran back agen to the main Body whence I was drawn.


Upon my Shaulvaashion but so did we too — but had the Rebels bin coming in earnest — wee'd have cut the pittiful Rascals all to pieces. — So, so, — Teigue wou'd have ript up the Guts of the Hereticks. —

Puls out his Sword and Fences in the Air.

So he would have out his Head off. — and just so, —

Clubs his Musquet.

Just so when he cry for mercy — No English Dog you — I'll knock out your Brains.

While they are Vaporing and Laughing, Enter the Detach­ment that went to Storm the Castle, beat in by the English, [Page 29] who Sally'd upon 'em.]
They Fought like Devils, and Ours not like men;
Like Women, nay a Child, an English Boy
Might kill 'em had he but the strength, for they
Make no resistance — once more if you're men
Stand and save all — do but look back and see
Your Enemy. —
[The English Enter. The Officer and several Souldiers fall. O Donnel tumbles among the Slain, and pretends himself Dead. Mac Shane creeps into a Bush, and Teigue being the nimblest Footman, runs away (the English following the Chase,) and Re-enters breathless at the Generals Tent.
Enter Macarty, Officers, Teigue looking fearfully over his Shoulder.
O Sir — my Lord—we're lost — St. Patrick save us!
The Army — oh — the English Army.
VVhat of them Coward? are they more than men?

Than men Sir — O yes Sir — They have every one of 'em Eyes as big as Sawcers, and spit Fire like Dragons — twenty thousand, O they're here just at the Door, and I'm Dead.


VVhat are they come Incognito? — VVe must have seen or heard some News what ever 'tis.

Go bid my Regiment advance.
They're here — and even just there's the Enemy.
Enter the English, beating in the Irish —
Is this the dreadful Army? one poor Company!
VVell-Charge 'em — See if they are all immortal.
They Charge the English, who still Fighting retreat in good Order, till they regain their Fort.
Farewell Temper! 'Tis beyond the Patience
Not only of a Souldier but a Saint
Patrick himself, of whom our holy Fryers
Tell us such holy Lies, wou'd swear to see it;
This half a-handfull to outbrave our Army!
Come on, go off, beat, kill, do what they please! —
O Fate — thou'st cheated me — sure I was mouldie,
To lead such men as those who Conquer mine,
Yes rather had I head one single Troop
Of such as they, than all this Soulless rout!
This Pageant of a War — this Pastbord Army,
Scarce those in musty Arras wove look worse,
Or stand more patient to be cut in pieces:
No, there I wrong'd 'em first — they will not stand,
So fast they run, that Death can scarce o'retake 'em,
Almost outstrip a Bullet in his March,
With Fate and Vengeance wing'd and red Destruction.
VVhy must I bear so many thousand Deaths,
Before the last kind true one gives me Ease,
And sends this rage and shame a passage hence,
Quite crusted round my heart — I'll stay no longer,
If there's a Purgatory sure 'tis here,
Quick, quick, I'll thro' it all and reach my Heaven,
To the Officers.
Go bid the Army March, if they'll obey you,
Mistake not wilfully and run away,
I'll be for Inniskilling or my Tomb;
—Here call a Drummer, — Speed him quickly thither,
Carry this Summons to the Governour,
Were not my Soveraigns Honour in't concern'd,
Shame wou'd not let me make a proposition
To such as those, to yield to such as ours.
This will, unless I much mistake his temper,
Quickly bring him, and Victory or Death,
Either of which wou'd be so welcome now,
I scarce know which to chuse.
As the Drummer is going out, Enter one from the Out-Guards.
My Lord, we saw the Enemy advancing
On yonder Hill, — and move so fast they must
Be very soon upon us.
Labour saved —
I see there's men of Honour and Civility.
[Page 30]
We've yet as much advantage as we'd wish for,
There's not a better spot of Ground in Europe
To cool their Courage, — On this little rise
We'll place our Canon, and our last Reserve.
(Speaks to an Officer.)
You Colonel, Take the Horse, and keep the Causway,
Between the Bogs — And you the Foot dispose
(Speaks to another.)
On either Wing, — Thus planted if they will
But hold their Swords before 'em, 'tis impossible
To lose at least: — And when their Troops are tired,
We may at pleasure fall upon and break 'em,
And once bid fair for Fame. —
[Exeunt Officers.]
Tho' yet I hope not —
Not hope it, — Yes, the man who bravely dies,
In the discharge of whatsoever Post
He's fix'd at, Fames his everlasting portion
What e're he lose, then lets be all — Macarty.
— My Soul my thinks expands its self, and greatens
With prospect of near Immortality.
Look down you Holy Forms! who reign above
Where no Contentions dwell, but those of Love.
You Saints, you Heroes all, of whom we're told
You flourish'd here, — And might perhaps of old!
If 'ere Macarty did an act was base,
Dart all your Thunders in his perjur'd Face;
But if he Vertue and fair Fame pursu'd,
And Ill n'ere chose, unless ith' shape of Good:
If ne're, unless deceiv'd, his Sword was known
To own a Cause which you wou'd blush to own;
Then either aid him with success to day,
Or take at once his Shame and Life away.
His Soul, a Stranger there, a place provide
Among those shining few who bravely dy'd;
Open the Gates, and your kind arms prepare,
They come, they come, you soon will find him there.
Exit to the Battle.


Both Armies, the Irish as before, the English advancing up to the Causway — the Canons play, Trumpets, Drums, Fifes sounding.
THere's the Enemy! —
Enough — there needs no Word—
The English fall on desperately at the Causway — the Irish receive 'em, and a warm dispute follows.
Macarty from the Hill.
They stand! they stand! — Nor yet — nay then I'll hope —
And if they run not, now e'ne beg their Pardon,
And give my self the Lye — There is no way for Foot,
Those Boggs are inaccessible — Let's bring
The Canon once to bear, the Day's our own.
Governour to his Soldiers.
How Gentlemen — not Conquer? These are Irish,
All errand Irish — whom as oft yo've baffled
As seen — I know you'll beat, but what's the Reason
You stay so long? — Charge home with the Pikes,
Now — Now or Never —
The Foot receive all the Enemy's Fire, and pass the Boggs to meet 'em, who on the Inniskilling Mens first Fire retreat in Disorder.
St. George! we've past the Boggs — they run, they run,
And these too bend —
A whole half-hour — 'tis fair,
And more than I in Conscience cou'd expect.
I'll charge my self — the Battel totters,
These may restor't —
To a Collonel and Officers about him.
We wait you with our Lives — if not too late,
For the Horse break — and see my Lord — the Devils
Come rolling on in Smoak, and Fire, and Blood,
We yet may fly —
When dead if I get off
That's soon enough — come follow you that Love
Your King or me —
They endeavour to rally the broken Army, the English come on, take the Cannon, and turn it on the Irish; some throw themselves into the Bogg, and are knockt on the Head there; others ask Quarter, and throw down their Arms, &c.
Rally behind me — once — stand once — but 'till
I've met the Torrent — and then run to Perdition —
'Tis vain — they are as deaf as fighting Winds,
A Drove of Sheep as soon will stop their running,
When one leaps first — The Torrent bears us down,
And hurrys us too with 'em to the Wood.
All's lost — yet will your Lordship save your self?
For what — or where — this Army was my Life,
My Spirits — my Blood — 'tis lost, and I'm dead with it,
Let's turn and fall like what we've lived.
We cannot, —
Unless we over them or under pass;
And see — already to the Wood we're born,
Driven with the edge of the Multitude
Out of the Tide of Death —
Then let's return to't,
Now 'tis worth stemming — I have lived too long
By half an hour.
We'll follow and dye with you.
They make up to a Party of the Inniskilling-men, at whom Macarty discharges his Pistol, at which they all fire at him, and shoot him down; a Souldier comes up, and Clubs his Musquet to knock out his Brains.
They have done kindly, but thou'lt yet do better,
Quick — kill me Villain — or I'll rise and kill thee.
Irish Officers.
English Capt.
Spare his Life! and 'tis a noble Pris'ner!
Give him fair usage, thô you keep him safe.
O cruel Wretches — now I'll call you base
Cowards — to take a shott and not return it.
Loose my Arm — yet — you shall have t'other — No
I need you not —
Drops into a swound with his Wounds, they carry him off, and the Scene closes.


Enter Governour, three Collonels, Captains, &c.
'TWas a bold Act, but just and necessary,
Which made us Masters of our Lives and Derry.
'Tis now too late to shrink, and who wou'd do't,
Thô twere not so? We yet are strong enough,
Althô almost on every side betray'd,
Bandon, Dungannon, quitted all and lost,
Our Passes forc'd meerly for want of fighting,
Relief refused, when half within our Walls.
The English Troops, Provision, Ammunition,
And all our most experienced Officers,
All gone, and little left but Walls and Hearts,
Yet hold they fast, and favour us kind Heaven,
We need not yet despair — A happy riddance
Of some we've made, whose Presence if still with us
Had done more harm than good: We have Provisions,
And while the Countrey's clear may yet bring more;
A Garrison, strong, numerous, and vigorous;
We've newly sent agen for aid to England,
If we succeed, History will record
Our Actions louder than Ostend or Troy;
And if we fall, never a braver Cause,
Nor can it more be worth the while to dye.
1. Collonel.
The Enemy apace are drawing hither,
Headed by Hamilton, who falsify'd
His Word and Trust with England — they are numerous,
But yet all Irish, save some Officers
Sent o're from France, both Nations we have conquer'd,
[Page 34]
And may agen — unless by Famine press'd,
More than the Enemy — which, to avoid,
Twere necessary every private House
Were searcht immediately, and all things brought
To th' general Magazine, thence given out
By just proportion as our number is.
You Counsel well — about it instantly;
But what's of more concern, if possible,
Than that it self, — Let's all promote a Union
In different Parties here — if that once break,
We're lost inevitably, and become
The scorn and triumph of our Enemies.
What was't destroy'd the fam'd Jerusalem,
But Faction within, more deadly and more fatal
Than all the Roman Army at the Gates?
And batter'd down their Walls with more success
Within, than did the Engines from abroad.
2. Coll.
So well I hope our Interest is seen,
That thô their Heads being gone, most left behind
Seem little better than a Rabble now;
Yet even they can Feel as well as others,
Thô not much used to think — Besides we've Officers
Remaining still behind, as brave as those
Who quitted Derry, and as signaliz'd
In bold Defence o'th' English Int'rest here;
These have the Hearts of all the common sort,
And both wou'd rather Dye, nay, Starve, than yield;
They'd make it Death to think as well as speak on't,
Cou'd one as well as t'other be discover'd.
3. Coll.
Already their Fidelity we've try'd,
And quickly shall their Valour, thô opprest
With numbers at the Fords, and wanting all
Was necessary for their own Defence:
But now they're satisfy'd their Leaders are
Firm as themselves, ready to share their danger.
In a few hours we easily shall guess
Their future Carriage, for the Enemy
[Page 35]
Comes on a pace, already part encampt
Upon the neighb'ring Hills — the whole consists
Of twenty-thousand men effectively;
The best of bad, cull'd out of all the rest,
Canon they have, and Bombs and Engineers,
We must expect smart Entertainment with 'em.
Let's to the Walls, and see what Face they bear,
Tho' probaby we shortly may meet nearer.
Exeunt omnes.

SCENE II. The Irish CAMP, — and General's Tent.

Hamilton, Mamow, Pusignan, Clancarty, Butler, Fitz-gerald, and other Officers.
WHat mean these sturdy Rebels, that they yet
Delay surrendring? Can they think to stand
Our Royal Army? will those ragged Walls
Which scarce will bear the shock of their own Canon,
How then of ours, secure 'em from our Arms?
Begar me vill batter 'em down with 1, 2, 3, Potgun.
Vat the Diable do they mean? do they not know
My great Maistre send his Lieutenant General Mamow
To pull down all de Walls, and burn, kill, kill,
De Man, Woman, and shucking Shild dat fight vid his
Brother King of England?
They only kindly stay 'till we attack 'em,
That we may have the pleasure
Of Military Execution on 'em;
For 'tis impossible they shou'd sustain
The least assault of such a puissant Army.
Perhaps they question if we're yet in earnest;
Were but a Battery rais'd, and some few Bombs
Thrown in, 'twou'd make 'em tremble and submit,
If not infatuated.
The Experiment is quickly try'd upon 'em:
Call th' Engineers, and let some shot be play'd
[Page 36]
Against the Market-house — perhaps 'twill stagger 'em,
To see the Stones rattle about their Ears.
A tedious way — and wer't not far more brave
To scale it instantly, and put to th' Sword
Whoe're resist? I'd be the first should lead 'em.
My Lord, none e're could doubt Clancarty's Valour,
But the Kings Subjects must not be exposed
To causeless hazards — time enough for that
If this succeed not — as I'd hope it may;
— For see — already they set ope the Gates,
And hurry in disorder hitherward;
Their wisest way, to yield upon Discretion.
They rather seem to bear the face of Men
Desperately bent to ruine — see already
They charge our careless Out-Guards, and have beat 'em
Home to the Trenches.
They are Impudent —
But shall be cooler — To your Charges strait;
Draw out a Party of Horse and face the Rebels;
Remember 'tis the first Attempt, on that
May very much of our Success depend.
They've taken a long Sally from their Town,
Nor shall return in hast —
Exeunt omnes.
Enter a Party of the Derry men. Collonels, Captains, &c.
So — we begin to rouze 'em — who wou'd think
To see how briskly they at first advance;
They were resolv'd to play an Irish-trick,
And run away; but that 'tis the Beasts Nature,
Since one o'th two must run, he'll be so civil
To save the other side the Labour.
Enter Irish, Mamow, Fitz girald, &c.
Yield Rebels!
Yes! —
Shoots him dead, the Parties joyn, the English beat the Irish off, and fight behind the Scenes.


Enter Governour; to him a Captain from the Field.
'Twas a tough bout—, the Irish cheated us
And fought awhile like men.
We from the Walls
Cou'd not distinctly see what happened there.
From the brave Colonel I'm sent on purpose,
Who charg'd i'th' head o'th' Horse to give account
Of this days action—, who is now retired
Under the Walls where still he'll face the Enemy.
Cure my impatience quick, and let me hear't.
He in two Squadrons first the Horse divides
The Enemy did the same; they met us briskly,
And head to head we fought, and breast to breast;
No way appear'd but thro', or o're each other
Each close t'his Friend, as close t'his Enemy,
Two Iron Bodies hacking one another
As Smiths on Anvils beat— while smoke and Fire
And sparks as thick as theirs flew from each Helmet,
Long thus we tugg'd till our impatient Colonel
Grown angry beyond suffrance when they grew
Unconscionably tedious e're they ran,
With his broad Sword clove one o'th' foremost down
Almost to th' Girdle-sted, then should'ring in
Charg'd thro' the whole Brigade—, we follow'd him
And glean'd the Deaths behind him. Twice he met
And hand to hand grappled their bold Commander
The French Mamau, who fought and curs'd as heartily
As possible—, as oft agen was sundred
By droves of either Party rushing in
Betwixt their lifted Swords— the third wish'd time
[Page 34]
They met, and Monsieur at the first Encounter
Fell dead, blaspheming on the dusty [...] plain
And dying bit the ground—. His Brother came
Madder than he and swore a quick Revenge
Or else to follow him —, he had the last
From the same hand, who sent him groveling after
On the same spot, so soon, their Souls and blood
Met as they parted, these upon the Sand,
And those i'th' airy regions—. All the rest
Were fairly following them—, till a new party
Came from the Camp, who with their very weight
Forc'd a Retreat—, they eagerly prest on
And met their Fate behind, our Foot stood ready
Who all the Ditches lined, and gave 'em such
Warm Entertainment very few return'd
To tell the News—. At least two hundred left
Upon the spot, their Standard we have won
And store of spoil, nor lost above some Ten
In all the Action.
Like true Brittains done
—And see they here return loaden with spoils
And fairly purchase Lawrels—. —Welcom here
Enter from the Walls, the Colonel, Officers, Souldiers, &c.
Thrice welcom to my Breast! dread Sons of War
My Heart beats quick, and something feels abroad
Kin to its own—, 'twou'd fain get out and meet it
O how I envy you so great an Action
(Or were you any else shou'd envy you)
You've let 'em know what they must look for from Derry
What Edge your Courages and Swords do bear.
[Embraces the Colonel, &c]
We've bid 'm welcom— somewhat heartily
And as they like it, let 'em come agen
Tho' they'l perhaps be wiser—.
No they will not
We certainly shall have 'em quickly with us
Rashness and Cowardice make up their Nature,
Prompt to attempt, mad, eager on destruction
Like other Beasts they'l run on Sword and Fire.
The Bores will stake themselves, hold but the Spear
Direct against 'em—, but when once they feel
The warm blood trickle down and stain the Earth
Unlike a generous Beast, like Curs they whine
Clap up their Tails and run, nor will they stop
Till death reach them, or they some place of safety.
—Howe're we are prepar'd—, fresh men to th' Walls
I'le speed away, and others to the works:
While all your honourable wounds are dress't,
And you from your long Toyl and Labours rest.
Exeunt omnes.

SCENE IV. The Irish Camp.

Enter Hamilton, Butler, Clancarty, Talbot, Nettervile, &c.
Well—, 'tis the chance of War— always unequal,
Sometimes they must suffer—, but Revenge
Sweet dear Revenge will soon set all things right
And almost make 'em live agen— we must
Repay their visit, home and speedily.
Col. Talbot.
If there be God or Devil, let both stand Neuter
Or side with Rebels now as oft before
'Tis the same thing—, I neither fear their Anger
Nor hope their Aid—, this sword and Arm's my God
I have and do Decree to Conquer them.
Still wicked Will! But yet he's resolute
And firm to th' Cause—, small faults are soon pass't over.
But we've no room for talk—, swift action calls
The English will be here with strong Relief
Unless we're speedy—, Let's with Expedition
The Life of every noble Enterprize.
[Page 36]
Begin th' attaque upon their Lines, Works, Town.
Last time they met you unprovided, now
Prepar'd you come they ne're can think to stand.
What men can do, resolved to beat or dye
What Loyal Subjects against hated Rebels,
And Catholicks against a faithless Crew
Of cursed Heretical Dogs, we promise, swear,
And Vow, ne're to return unless with Conquest.
Success attend you, equal to your valour.
Exeunt Omnes.

SCENE. V. Derry. The Walls.

Governour, Several Captains, Officers, &c.
I find I took em right, the Camps in motion
And some great thing in hand, see, there they come
And swarm along as if they'd cover us,
Three parties Horse, two other Foot appear.
Captain; I need not order you to your charges
Who are already eager to be there.
1 Capt.
The Feasts so good there needs small invita­tion.
Wer'e gone—
Exeunt Omnes.
Manent Governour and a Colonel.
Hark— from the Irish Camp a dismal yell
Loud as the Midnight Wolves when met in Troops
To assault the Folds, their parties are come up,
The Horse have top'd our Line, with loud Huzza's
And Fagots all before 'em.
Trust their welcome.
See, are our men behind hand in returns
They scorn to keep the Forts, but meet them fairly
Tho' theirs the disadvantage, on the Strand.
See how they mow 'em! Sure they are grown hoarse
We here no more Huzzah's. Pykes, Musquets, Scythes
Have spoiled their Musick.— Into th [...] Lough they run,
And by one Death another vainly shun.
Who should that be that fights when all the rest
Are broke and shatter'd—; I cou'd wish his Life
He is so brave
Unless my Eyes mistake
As easily they may at such a distance
'Tis young Montgarret—, see— his Horse is kill'd
And he takes Quarter—, all his Party routed.
'Tis well—, where are the rest—? ha— at what distance,
How reverendly the Cowards gaze upon
Their Fellows Fate—, the other two bold Squadrons
Who with thick bellowings lately tore the Air
Stand still as Statues.
But their Foot come on
And warmly too—, those Granadeers fight well
Ours bend a little—
Haste your Regiment
To their Relief.
The work is done without it
They've beat 'em off—, and fire still on their Rear.
—Ha! are they immortal— that none drop,
With all our Shot?
O! Pleasant Cowards—, see how witty Fear is!
As they go off they bear the dead behind 'em
Who do more service now than while alive
And guard the rest from all our shot secure.
—But ours return, and almost every man
His Prisoner brings.
Enter the Derry Men, with Talbot, Nettervile, Butler, &c. Prisoners.
To the Prisoners.
Gentlemen— 'tis the Fate of War—, we use not
What e're your Countrymen return us for it,
To violate our Word and Quarter given.
To the Captains,
See they are lodg'd as handsomly as our
Convenience and Security permits 'em.
Exeunt omnes.

SCENE. VI. The Irish Camp.

Enter An Irish Funeral, of one of their Commanders kill'd in the last Action. Tapers, Crosses, Dirges. Two fat Friars singing—, and praying for his Soul.

Song by the Priests.

REst thy Soul in Bliss dear Friend!
Now beginning, n'ere to end:
At Purgatory be not scar'd
Its Flame shall never singe thy Beard.
Mount to rights to Heav'n, nor stay
To call at the Half-way-house by th'way.
On thy Soul, while here below,
If some little spots did grow:
Murder, Perjury, or Rape
Or some such other small Escape:
By thy meritorious Fall
Thou hast o're atton'd 'em all.
Innocent as Child unborn
On the golden wings of morn
Mount to bliss, and pray for those
Strugling with their faithless Foes:
Aid thy Friends who thee adore
As thou other Saints before.

[They put him into the Grave, and the Irish kneel down by him, tear their Hair, throw up the Dirt, and lament his death with unsufferable Howlings, as their manner is, singing this Song over his Grave.]

Irish SONG.

AH Brother Teague! Why didst thou go?
Whillilla lilla lilla lilla lilla lilla loo!
And leave thy Friends in grief and wo,
Aboo aboo aboo aboo aboo aboo aboo!
Hadst thou not store of Houshold-stuff
Whillilla &c.
Potates and Usquebagh enough
Aboo &c.
Three Sheep, one Garroon, and a Cow
Whillilla &c.
A Garden, Cabin and a Plough
Aboo &c.
Hadst thou not Bonny-clabbar store
Whillilla &c.
If not enough wee'd giv'n thee more.
Aboo &c.
Why wouldst thou Teague! Ah tell me why
Whillilla &c.
Thus play the Fool and maake a dy
Aboo &c.
Why didst thou touch the fatal shore
Whillilla &c.
Where we shall never see thee more
Aboo aboo aboo aboo aboo aboo aboo!

[While they are in the midst of their Harmony comes a Shot from the Town, and kills the two Fryars and several others—, all the rest start up and run away.]


The Walls—, Captains, Souldiers, &c.
1 Sol.
We've spoil'd their howling, why 'twas more unsufferable
Then all their Canon—, there was a yell
Fearful enough to've frighted him almost
From his long sleep agen.
2 Sol.
But Oh! those holy Cheats—, those goodly Friars
How they both caper'd when the Chain-shot came
And Circumciz'd 'em just i'th' middle!
By this time if their Souls are not so gross
Pursy and unwieldy as their Carcasses,
They may have reach'd their Friend who went before 'em.
1. Capt.
Never insult over an Enemy
Conquer'd or slain—, if either, that's enough
The rest is base—, 'Tis true o're you they wou'd
But even there o'recome 'em as in Battle.
—Come Captain—, Let's to our Charge— the Irish Prisoners
See how they brook confinement here.
2. Capt.
[They open a Door, and the Prisoners come forth—, Talbot, Macdonald, &c. discontented and gloomy.]
1. Capt.
to Talbot. You're Melancholy Colonel—, we are come
To give you some diversion— not insult you
What's now your Fate, to morrow may be ours.
Such Rebels merit not so good—.
2. Capt.
We Scorn
The name and thing—, nor wou'd, nor ever did
Yet take it in the Field—.
Can you deny it?
To reason calmly—, took you not up Arms
Against your Kings Lieutenant here at first,
And since even he himself in Person's come
Continue in your stubborn disobedience?
1. Capt.
For our first taking Arms, 'twas on advice
Of Massacres intended—, and as some
Of you acknowledge, actually proposed
To th' Deputy—. Those barbarous attempts
All Nations own 'tis lawful to repel
With utmost Force, since that's the only Law
Can either authorize or from 'em shield.
The last is not forgot—. For our remaining
In such a posture, 'tis for Englands King
And Ireland's too we fight—. This ever was
Since Conquer'd, a Dependant held inseparable
From th' English Crown, when quitted, thrown away
And slighted by that Bigot Prince who wore it
Placed on two Royal Heads, the next in blood
And brightest pair in Europe—, those we own
Our rightful King and Queen, and you no better
Than that foul name with which you've branded us.
The Massacre you talk of with such dread
Was no more real than that common place
Of cruelty—, the bloody Forty one—
When, after infinite insufferable
And odious provocations the poor Natives
Took for themselves and their Religion both
Just necessary Arms, Commission'd by
The King himself—. The Murthers buzz'd so loud
Were Executions which in War will ever
Be more or less—, and those you first begun
How many Thousands in the Isle Magee;
Before a stroke was struck by ours— and then
We offer'd Murtherers on either side
Shou'd have fair Trial—, this you ne're accepted
Because you dared not.
2. Capt.
Only there you're right.
We dared not be indeed such hardy Fools
To trust our Lives with Irish Consciences
Judges and Jury all your Countrymen
[Page 42]
Who do notorious Justice when they meet us,
And before such you did propose a Tryal
Of which there was no need, for all the Irish
Had been acquitted, all the English guilty.
That of Magee was a full year at least
After your horrid Massacre begun,
And only warm revenge for many Murthers.
Which you began er'e any provocation
The hour, the day prefixt all o're the Kingdom
Own'd by your own, and not by you denyed;
Who only say you were provoked to what
You did— but how— had you not your Estates,
Liberties, Lives, although a conquer'd Nation;
Were not your Lawyers, nay some Judges Irish,
Was it Religion then? But was not that
Which you call so, allowed more bare then ever,
Convents and Nunneries every where connived at,
No man molested, Mass in publick said
All o're the Kingdom, spite of all the Laws
Point-blank against it— as for your Commissions
Your great Oneal himself, and Lord Mac-guire
Own'd at their death 'twas all a Forgery.
Well Gentlemen, which ever part went wrong
Or this or that can never now recall it.
But one things certain, and you've treated us
So generously we cannot but in kindness
Advise you on't— You see no succours yet
From England come, or if they are in vain
Kilmore is ours, and we a Boom have fastned
Across the Lough that 'tis impossible
By that way to releive you; —your Provisions
I see come short, you may have yet fair Terms;
If you stand out there's not a man escapes,
Yield then and let not such brave men be ruin'd.
1 Capt.
Captain we thank you for your kind advice
But should the Souldiers hear you'd not be safe
[Page 43]
From worrying, nor shou'd we propose it.
We're one and all— There's not a private Centinel
But willingly wou'd eat the Flesh from one arm
And fight with t'other, ere they wou'd surrender,
—Besides for yet a while we're richly stored
Tallow and Starch, —why 'tis luxurious diet.
And when that fails, and all besides, the Garrison
Sir, we have heard e'm swear't, and do believe it
Will first eat you, and then themselves, e're yield.
Tho' every hour we expect releif
And know the English are ith' Lough already.
And will be here—
(A shout without) But we must to our Charges.
For business calls, we wish you well to bear
What can't he mended.
Exeunt Omnes.

SCENE VIII. Derry-Walls

Enter Governour, Colonels, Captains.
Too well appears the reason of that shout
I'th' Irish Camp— See in the Lough below
The English Ships attempting our relief,
The first is stranded, while the barbarous Enemy,
Runs down in Sholes to Fire, or kill, or take 'em,
While with insulting Flowts they call t'our Guards,
And bid us send our Carpenters to help 'em.
1 Col.
Some of their mirth is spoiled with that broad­side,
Full in the midst o'th' Rabble— nay the shock
Unless— I see as many, what they wish.
Has floated her again.
2 Col.
'T has done it really
Not only in your fancy, now Salvation!
The Boom is broke, with Wind and Tide they come,
And scatter storms of Fire and Death about 'em
[Page 44]
Till Kilmore rattles, and the bloody strand
Lies spread with Carcasses, and Legs and Arms,
Bodies and Heads and Men alive and dead,
Fly every where so fast as if they strove
Which shou'd outrun the other.
They have reached the Key, relief & life comes with 'em.
Enter English Captains.
Brave Countreymen there's little need to tell you,
You're welcome here, for all that's left of Derry
Confesses it, those living Carcasses
You see remaining fain wou'd smile, had they
But flesh enough to do it, not great Orange,
Our now great King was with more joy received,
In gasping England when he came to save it
From the same Enemy, then you are here.
C. Nor with less Joy we bring you this relief
Then wee'd our selves receive it, but what news
From th' Enemies Camp, must we go visit them,
Or won't they be so civil to attend us.
They do what they were born to run away.
Fire all their very Tents and Huts, and worse,
The Countrey too least we should make advantage.
Whole waggon-loads of Arms thrown into th' River.
Bursting their largest Guns, as too unweieldy
For thir light March, O had we but some Horse
To give 'em one kind Farewell, 'tis so strange
For those who have been Neighbours now so long
To part abruptly.
Capt. We again shall find 'em,
For Schombergh speedily is here designed
With twenty thousand men to march for Dublin.
And end the War.
Impatiently we wait,
Till that wish day when we agen may meet,
Those who so often grovelled at our Feet. Ex. Omn.

ACT. IV. SCENE. First. Dublin.

Tyrconnel, Rice, Nugent, &c. Neagle.
Derry reliev'd, and Inniskilling lost,
Sure destiny mistakes, or we do so.
Macarty Prisoner, Hamilton baffled, English landed
And more still coming! What will next be done.
Were all my Goods aboard, as once before
And I there too, I scarcely shou'd look back
To be Lieutenant, Or indeed a something
Which bears some lesser name, (the King's scarce more
The glorious Cause we now are all embarkt in
Is firm enough to stand in spite of all
Th'attempts against it of weak Hereticks,
What are two Towns? they yet have won no more
Nay only kept 'em, and for the disgrace
Incurred by missing them, there are excuses
Sound plausibly enough, which wee'l transmit
To our Friends in England, as our selves wee'l use 'em.
—Alas, 'twas place, a little mean
And worthless Town, we only lay before it
For Recreation, might have taken it
When e're we pleased, at an hours warning had we
But strained our Forees there, 'tis true wee'd some,
Some few perhaps of note who dy'd in th' Army,
But there are many ways of death besides
[Page 46]
The Sword and Cannon, several brought Diseases
That left 'em there, tho' lives and all went with 'em.
The usual chance of War, not to be avoided.
—For what's to come we've still a numerous Army,
A noble body of Horse as are in Europe,
Ten Thousand with the least— with these wee'l tug.
At least this Summer ore, the fickle English
By then perhaps will tired and weary grow
Of their new King, or France will be at leisure
To give their Arms a powerful diversion
And us assistance here. His Privateers
Will scowr our Seas, and pick each Vessel up
That peeps abroad, this will breed Discontents
In those enough inclin'd to't without Cause,
Besides we still have a strong party there
Desperate and Resolute—, they may produce
Something themselves thats not contemptible,
But come the worst, 'tis but to Fire the Countrey,
Kill all the Heretics, and run away
By th' Light their Houses make.
But still for Money
The Life oth' cause—, That must be got or all
Yet done or counselled will be lost and nothing.
We shall have shortly large supplies from France
Some we already have.
All far too little
But our Invention must supply what's wanting,
Money there is ith' Kingdom, and good store
This i'le contrive, and speciously, to bring
Each Cob into th' Exchequer.
That would half
Restore my hopes, but 'tis impossible.
First hear it. I propose new pieces should
Be Coyned, of Copper, or some pretty mettal
That may look well, their value as we please
Let all be obliged to take this Royal money,
[Page 47]
From Souldiers or the King; but when they pay
Custom or Subsidy, or ought beside
Be that in the old Coyn—
The only fear
Is least they murmur at the imposition.
How, murmur at their Prince, d'ye think they'r Rebels
If he demands their their Throats, are they not his,
Their heads, all at his service, and shou'd tumble
Themselves oth' floor for him to tread and spurn 'em,
Not yet so high to run the supposition
The Natives never were much used to Money
To them 'tis all the same— alas they're scarce
So subtle to distinguish one and to'ther
And they're ith' right on't, every thing is worth
Its settled value, if this buys a Cow
And Silver did no more, 'tis the same thing.
To say but truth, the less we are engaged
To insulting France the better, they begin
To scorn, affront, abuse the Native Irish
Which we sure cannot bear.
Nor need we long—
When once they'v done their business that they came for
We easily can turn 'em home agen.
Mean while all may be fair, dissemble what
We can't digest, nor can we er'e be greater
The King, good man, is old, and minds his Beads,
His Priests and Hounds share all his time between 'em.
Sometimes wee'l bring him out, and let him walk
A turn or two, as the Chinese their Emperors,
To let the people know he's still alive.
And make all preparation necessary
To oppose the English, if they shou'd descend
On any part o'th' Island.
Enter Messenger with a Rope about his neck.
Post from the North I bear the dreadful news
The Sea's all covered with the English Fleet,
A thousand Sail I think, for there's no end,
And bore directly in for Bangor Bay.
—'Tis well enough, I doubted they wou'd bid
For Dublin, we have time and ground and men,
Sufficient for 'em, come they when they will.
Enter another Messenger as the former.
The Enemies landed all in Bangor Bay.
Belfast already's yielded, Carrick-fergus
Invested round, and gone by this, the Countrey
Roll in amain, the English drive along
And none or can or dare resist the Torrent.
Time enough yet, they will be out of breath
And 'twill be our turns then to march and meet 'em.
Already we are rendevouzed betwixt
Dundalk and famed Tredagh, when they come thither
(But first they have the Newry to get through,
A Pass that none can force but bulls or Devils)
We may speak with 'em.
When we know their numbers,
For Fame still greatens as it farther goes.
Till then lets take what measures now are needful,
We've all the Arms already of the Hereticks.
If there are any persons yet whose power
May injure us, let them too be secured,
And to amuse the people, set the Priests
To Prayer for good success.
If this blow over,
Or we but keep 'em there at a due distance
Wee'l have a Parliament to attaint the Estates
Of all that joyn the English, or absent,
And tare in pieces those faint Nun-spun Acts,
[Page 25]
Made to the prejudice oth' Loyal Irish,
Unsettle and unhinge their Settlements,
Law or the Sword wou'd do it, best by both;
Dominion to our Country we'l restore,
And to proud Conquerers be Slaves no more.
Exeunt Omnes.

Scene II. The Newry. Schombergs Army. The Inniskilling Men, &c.

Thus far we've only marcht, not fought our way.
Here will be occasion for your Valour, if
They've but a spark of Courage, and tough work
Must needs ensue. The Pass is strong, but must
Be won, or we stay here.
No, rather in our Graves; we only wait
Orders to charge, as they our doing that,
Unless they're strangely changed, to run away.
Go take a Party then and try th' event.
The Irish appear posted advantagiously. The English throw themselves upon 'em, who after two or three Fires, fling their Arms into the River, and shift for themselves.
Both sides I see are very expeditious.
Next for Dundalk.

Scene III. Dublin.

Tyrconnel, Nugent, Neagle, Irish Lords. To 'em a Messenger.
The Newry's lost; and on the Plain before
Dundalk I saw the English Troops advance
Er'e I came thence. By this they must be there.
Sure they fly.
I doubt tis ours do so. But are our Army
Ready to meet 'em there?
They'r all prepared.
We know their formidable Numbers too;
Some twenty thousand only at the most:
We thrice out-number 'em; and when they know
Our force, will sure retire faster than they
March'd forward— but my Lords, I'll to the Army,
The King will do no hurt, what's yet left of him:
If hee's there too, perhaps some of the Rebels
Will yield at his approach. Besides already
We've many Friends in Schomberg's Camp, from whence
We nere shall want intelligence at least,
Perhaps do something more.
Success attend your Excellency thither.

Scene IV. Dundalk.

English Army, General, Council of War, Officers, &c.
I know the English Genius and their Fire,
My Country-men have ofte felt 'em both.
[Page 27]
And now, tis granted they'll but fight their Slaves.
— But then the disproportion is so huge,
Our Horse so few and weak, their's strong and numerous,
Their Foot four times at least more than the English,
'Twou'd be too great hazard to attempt;
Too great a price, ev'n Victory to gain
By breaking all our Army, ere more Force
Arrive to joyn us, or advantage offers.
We've here firm footing, whence they nere can beat us;
If they attempt, they fight at disadvantage;
And only come to meet prepared Destruction.
We must submit, tho 'tis a thing looks strange
To Englishmen thus coopt, to wait the Enemy,
Who always used to seek 'em, and dy here
By sickness, closeness, and thick foggy Air,
Who bravely might for a good purchase sell
Our Lives, and get eternal Fame by losing 'em.
Which ever way they'r lost; if in defence
Tis of your Country, and obedience to
So good a King, you never cou'd fall braver.
— But to that reason I before advance
Against Engagement, there's perhaps a greater,
A secret kept till now — I have Intelligence
There's a design form'd to betray the Camp
To th' Enemy — We shall hear more on't speedily;
The Guards are doubled, and I wait each minute
Some false Deserters making to the Enemy,
Who are so strictly watcht they can't escape.
And here they come—
Enter Souldiers, with a Deserter, his Hands tied, &c.
Mercy, my Lord, and I'll discover all.
We've seiz'd his Papers which have don't already,
A draught of all the Camp, and each weak place
Described that's in it— A List of several Officers
[Page 28]
And Souldiers, who design to joyn the Enemy,
When we engage; or when they'r on the Guard:
Deliver up the Gates.
Now Gentlemen,
You see my Reason— Go and hang him instantly,
As soon as his Confederates are seiz'd:
Proclaim immediate Death to every Papist,
Who owns not his Religion publickly.
Guard well the Avenues. To night my self
I'll walk the Rounds to see you do your Duties,
And shall severely punish negligence.
Exeunt Omnes.

Scene V. Irish Camp.

Enter Tyrconel, Hamilton, Clancarty, Monsieur de Rozen, &c.
Tho' our designs are on their Camp discovered,
And that sly Fox their General, posts himself,
Where none can touch him— 'tis full out as well;
Distempers will their business do, and save
Our Swords the Labour— They already drop,
Provision comes but slowly, our thick Fogs
Please not their queasy Stomachs; they'll begin
To wish for home. What if our own fall with 'em,
As hundreds do each week? — 'Tis a fair change
And we can spare 'em. What's a Subjects Life,
A hundreds, thousands, or a millions to
A great mans Interest?— The next News we hear,
They leave Dundalk, and then — beware their Rear.
Exeunt Omnes.

Scene VI. Dundalk, as before.

Most of the Souldiers sick, many dead, the rest pining.
Enter a Collonel and two Captains.
1. Capt.
Ah Collonel! — Was't for this we hither came,
To lay our bones in this accursed Country
Without a blow— The Land of Want and Famine,
Sickness and Misery, and Grief and Death.—
2. Capt.
Death Captain! and d'ye reckon that among the Grievances
And cou'd you have the Conscience to ask more?
Had we but that, and honestly and fairly
Had these two Arms bin torn with Chain-shot from me,
Not pined away with dull dull lingring torments
Twou'd nere have made me sigh.
I own t'is hard.
Nor have you only suffered, — None can blame
Our prudent General, who moved at last,
With the Condition of this Skeleton,
Of what was once an Army, has gi'en Orders.
To quit this fatal place, and march agen
Beyond the Newry, there to quarter till
Recruits and better Seasons call for Action.
Nay, then there's hope we yet may pay our Land-Lords;
And thank them for their courteous Entertainment.
Dundalk adieu: Had but the Traytors doom
Bin changed, we died, they guarded in our Room,
They'd had the worse, we the far better choice,
And shou'd at such a wish'd exchange rejoice.
V [...]lleys of Curses be thy last Farewell,
Thou Map of Ireland, and thou Map of Hell.
Exeunt Omnes.


Scene I. Irish Army at Dundalk.

Tyrconnel, Lazune, Hamilton, Clancarty, &c.
ONce more we're here agen — tis a kind Omen,
May all the rest return as does Dundalk.
Quick — after with the Horse, cut off their Rear,
And drive the Rebels back into the Sea.
— Nor shall that save 'em, thither and beyond
We'll follow—
First discover in what order
They march, and where they stand — tis probable
They'll keep the Newry-Pass and in that Country
Endeavour to secure their Winter Quarters.
Then we must force it instantly, nor suffer
Their harbring there— They'r on the run already,
And soon will quit it when our Troops approach,
Who so much Valour have already shown
Let it be done, and Ireland's all our own.
Exeunt Omnes.

Scene II. The Newry.

A Party of Irish — Officers, Souldiers, &c.
March quick and close— They take not yet th' Alarm.
The Town's already ours— The Prisoner whom
We lately took, informs there's scrarce a hundred
Yet left alive, and those half sick and languishing;
The rest or careless are or desperate,
Nor dream of that warm visit we shall make 'em.
The Centry discovers 'em, and fires three times, retiring.
Discovered— But too late for their prevention;
In— and we're Conquerers—
They enter the Town— Several Officers come out in their shirts, and are knockt oth' head. A Drummer beats an Alarm, and a few of the English gather in the Streets.
Eng. Offic.
Ha— are you come so far to hinder us
From dying now in quiet— Fellow Souldiers,
You see 'em— Rally here behind this Cart,
And give one Charge— if they march not back
At their accustomed pace— I'll e'ne run for 'em.
[The English charge— The Irish run]
Enter several English Souldiers crawling upon their Hands and Feet with their Musquets in their Hands.
Poor Wretches—What d'ye mean— You'r fitter for
Your Beds or th' Hospital, than War and Action.
1 Sould.
Noble Captain — Let me have but shot at 'em,
And then I'll dy contented.
2. Sould.
Now we're their Matches, 'twere not fair to fight 'em,
If strong and well as they.
They both get up to a Bank, fire their Pieces at the Irish, and fall dead themselves.
'Twas done like Englishmen— Their Courage did
Almost outlast their Breath— but were too weak
To follow these — who, lest agen they rally
And come more numerous— Souldiers, post away
For speedy Succour.
Exeunt Omnes.

Scene III. Belfast.

General, Several Officers.
Heaven smiles agen— The Sun has drest the Air
With fragrant blooms — nor is the Earth less fair,
[Page 32]
Supplies from England every day appear
And more— the King himself will soon be here.
Who wou'd not fight when such a General leads
Who in the Steps of Ancient Heroes treads,
Despises Danger, and himself can meet,
What wou'd make meaner Souls dissolve to fee't?
Each hour we him expect, and when he comes;
Then for the Field and Fame, for Palms or Tombs.

Scene IV. The Royal Fleet at the Bay of Bangor— The Mary Yacht with the Standard— All the Shore enlightned with Bonfires. Belfast.

The General, Officers, Messenger.
From Carick-sergus Garrison I bring
News of the safe Arrival of the King.
Five hundred Sail attend him — such a sight
As glads the Shore more than each Festal Light
Kindled at his approach.
A joyful sound!
Go fire the Train, and send the News around:
Let all our Quarters the blest Tidings hear,
And all the Bogs in Ireland quake for fear.
Their Fate is come — The Pageant King must run;
And once agen fly from the conscious Sun.
And in some Monastery hide his Head
Midst lonely Tombs, and the polluted Dead.
While that bright Hero who supplies his place,
Sways his strong Scepter with so great a Grace:
In trembling France shall give new wonders Birth,
And rend the witherd Lilies from the Earth.
The end of the First Part.

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