Loyal poems and satyrs upon the times since the beginning of the Salamanca plot written by several hands ; collected by M.T.

1685

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Loyal Poems AND SATYRS Upon the TIMES, Since the beginning of the Salamanca Plot. Written by several Hands.

Collected by M. T.

Absolom and Achitophel.

Plots true or false are necessary things

To set up Common-Wealths, and Ruin Kings.

LONDON, Printed for John Smith Bookseller in Russel-Street near Covent-Garden, 1685.

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To the most Illustrious, most Honourable, & most Loyal, THE LORDS and GENTLEMEN OF THE Loyal Club, At the Dog in Drury-Lane.

Most Honourable, and most Loyal.

THis Collection of LOYAL POEMS rescu'd from the Flames (when our Illium was almost a second time on Fire) present themselves an humble Offering at your Feet. It is the Poets Loyalty and Religion, asserting those Rights with their Pens, which you have avouch'd to maintain with your Swords; The Defence of which was the first Foundation of this Illustrious Society. A most Noble Institution, and destin'd to as glorious ends, When Factious Caballs began to prevail, and Rebellion under the disguise of Liberty began to invade on [Page]the Prerogative, then was't the Royal Party began to meet with generous Resolution, and stand up as one Man for the Interest of the Crown and Government. When Absolom had Conspir'd with Achitophel against the envy'd Life and Peaceful Reign of Injur'd David, what less could engage in his Defence than the Princes and Chiefs of Israel? This was that Royal Assembly which like you kept the Aspiring Rebells in awe, and the Monarch against all their Conspiracies safe upon his Throne. Where then can these Innocent Loyal Truths rather fly for Protection, than to You the most Eminent Patrons of Truth and Loyalty?

I fear it will be counted Arogance in me to devote so mean a Trifle to the whole Body Politick, the least Member of which is worthy of a far Richer Oblation, but our whole Artillery being level'd against the Factions, what Hercules Arm can guard me against the Multitude? Against the Imps of Rebellion, there is no Power to invoke, but the Sons of Loyalty, nor a spell against the Witchcraft of the Murmuring Cabals, but the Musical Charms of the ROYAL CLƲB. That Club so nobly founded, and so amicably carry'd on with unanimity of Heart and Voice for the long Life and Preservation of his Majesty and Loyal Brother in the Lawful Succession against all Opposers.

I dare not venture after the manner of Dedications to enter on Encomium, or Launce out into the boundless praise of so many Illustrious and Eminent Heroes, the meanest of whom is a Theme sufficient for the most Celebrated Pen; but being threatned before on the like [Page]occasion (for my Collection of Loyal Songs Dedicated to his R. Highness) I only implore your gracious Protection, and acceptance, that under that Influence being guarded from all the Treacherous Assaults of my Enemies, Whigs and Trimmers, I may walk abroad in safety under the Character of

Your Honours Most Obedient, and Most Devoted Humble Servant, Mat. Taubman.

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THE Loyal Club.

HAil, Royal Synod! Sons of Loyalty:
That Parliament whose Hearts and Tongues a­gree:
With one consent the Loyal Health goes round,
And Universal Harmony is found:
The Crowns Defence, the Beauty of the Field,
The Peoples Safe-guard, and the Prince's Shield:
The Pride o'th' Court, the Glory of the Camp,
The Sterling Ore that bears the Royal Stamp:
That Touch-stone where no Counterfeit can pass,
But soon discovers all its secret Brass;
Trimmer and Whig, like Copper fac'd with Tin,
Currant without, and Counterfeit within;
The Bitt and Bridle of the Factious Bands,
That checks their stubborn Necks, and binds their Hands:
The Rebels Dread and Fear, that gives them Law;
The Rabbles Curb, that keeps the Beast in awe.

Whilist every night You your bright beams display,
The Factions, like gross Vapours, waste away.
YOU, like the Stars, fix'd constant to your Sphere,
To CHARLES his Wain pay Homage all the year;
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Whil'st Whig-Cabals, like Exhalations drawn
From all the poys'nous Treason-Sinks in Town,
From their aspiring Heights come tumbling down;
The grosser Bubbles mounting up too far,
Like Light'ning fall, shot from an angry Star.
No Whig nor Trimmer can inhabit there;
They're Exhalations cannot reach Your Sphere.
Those Wills i'th' Wisp that lead Men from the Road,
To see a Sun more bright, revile their God:
The Sun which gave them Being they dis-own,
And fall to Earth, who cannot mount his Throne.
When e're that Fiery-Comet does appear
Within the Center of our Hemisphere,
The Fate-portending Tail does still pronounce,
The fall of Kingdoms and the date of Crowns.
That Monstrous Tyrant with his Gorgon face,
VVhose looks are Death, this late had been our Case,
Had not the LOYAL CLUB retriev'd our Fate,
And stood the Atlas of the Throne and State.
That Throne Heaven guard, and HIM that sits thereon,
And YOU, next Heaven, the Pillars of that Throne;
May Loyalty with Friendship link for ever,
No Tyrants force that Gordian Knot dissever.
May never Discord in this CLUB be found,
But Ecchoing Huzza's from th' Skies rebound,
And ev'ry Glass with Caesar's Health be crown'd.

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The CONTENTS.

THE Poets Address to the King. 1
The Excellency of Monarchy. a Panegyrick. 4
On his Majesties Recovery at Winsor. 7
The Succession. 10
A Paradox against Liberty, Writen by the Lords, during their Imprisonment in the Tower. 13
The last Speech of Sr. Edmundbury Godfrye's Ghost. 21
On the Death of the Protestant Joyner. 24
Innocence Ʋnveil'd; or, a Poem on the Acquittal of the Lord Chief Justice Scrogs. 28
Advice to the Painter's Adviser. 30
The Hypocritical Christian: or the Conventicling Citizen. 34
On the Loyal Apprentices Feast. 40
On old Doctor Wild's new Poem to his old Friend upon the new Parliament. 44
Scanda! Proof, or an Heroick Poem on the Renowned Champions of the good old Cause, Impudent Dick Janeway, and the rest of the Factious Tribe. 48
Fitz—Harris his Farwell to the World, or a Traytors Just Reward. 52
The Meal Tubb Plot. 55
A Dialogue between the Ghosts of the two last Parliaments at their Interview Fuimur Troes Westminster Ghost's Advice. 57
Nitimur in Vetitum Oxford Ghost. 60
Westminster Ghost. 61
Tom Think Ghost. 74
Sejanus, or the Popular Favourite. 70
The Whig Caball. 75
The Presbyterian Club. 77
The true Presbyterian without Disguise. 80
The Dissenter. 87
The Sollicitous Citizen. 90
Iter Boreale. 94
The Mad-mens Hospital, or Presbyterian Itch 96
State Cases put to Jack Presbyter. 99
The Geneva Litany. 102
The Norwich Litany. 105
The Loyall Litany. 108
The last will and Testament of Anthony King of Poland. 111
A Codecil to the Former Will. 115
Shaftsburys farewell, or the Association. 120
The Recovery. 123
On the Kings Deliverance at Newmarket. 127

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THE Poets Address TO THE KING.

THO Scribling Factions are so sawcy grown,
To dart curst Libels at your Sacred Throne,
To strive to pre-depose your Royal Heirs,
And seek your Life who frankly gave them theirs,
Yet (Mighty Sir) the Poets are your own,
Their Lives and Pens (for Fortunes they have none)
Reason, and Wit are faithful to their Prince,
Nay he that Writes against you can't Write Sense,
The Sacred Nine Elected you Supreme,
And Swore Allegiance to your Diadem;
And all the Jobbers of the Rhiming Crew
Are Rebels e'en to them when so to You.

Th' Old Loyal Bloud when your kind Beams with­drew,
Unmurmuring Slept till they return'd anew;
Then (like the Lust of Plants) its Automs strong
To deck th' old Branches, & to shoot forth young.
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Westminster was an Autumn to our Lays,
But th' Oxford Nipping Spring had kill'd our Bays,
Had not your Mercy and Dissolving Skill
Stopt both their Doing, and our Suffering Ill.
Had we th' Hesperian Fruit, you shou'd not pull,
We'd freely drop you a whole Checquer full,
(But equal Heaven has given it to the Dull.)
Wit by Camelion Nourishment conceives,
And was Decreed only to put forth Leaves.

Hail (Sacred Sir) altho we have no Banks
Yet we can pay (what none can give You) thanks
Thanks for the Numerous Blessings which you shed
Like the Impartial Sun on every Head.
Thanks for the Factious Deluge you put by,
And thanks for th' humble stoop to tell us why
But thanks above all thinking for your Care
To stop that Tap which wou'd have drown'd your Heir

Illustrious James thou cou'dst not bear such thing
Wert thou not Son and Brother to such Kings;
How cou'd we think from Justice thou shou'dst fly
A Land which does it to their King deny?

The Sh'riffs of late such Naturalists are grown
They'l turn no streams back to the Fountain, Throne
And those grand Jews that Ignoramus bring
For Barabbas wou'd Crucifie their King.

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The Polish Prince is Charm'd, he scorns weak Buff,
His Conscience of Impenitrable stuff
Arms the small Patriot, Plot, and Witness Proof;
'Tis such a Knot as wants the Gordian Knife,
For some Conspire his Death, and some his Life,
And Nineteen Unbelievers Damn to Save
That Head so lately Destin'd to a Grave.

Once more Hail Sacred Monarch, may kind Stars
Prosper your Peace, and Guard you in your Wars.
Let God arise, who your Avenger is,
And Scatter both Your Enemies and His;
May Heav'n attend your Councils and Dispose
Success to all that's Yours except your Foes.

Long may you Rule this Island with your Nod,
And let the stubborn feel your angry Rod,
Exceed your Father, and be like Your God.

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The Excellency of MONARCHY. A Panegyrick,

I.IF wanting wings one may ascend the Skys,
And Phaebus view without an Eagles Eyes,
Then rouse up, (Muse) from thy Lethargick strains.
And having first invok'd the God of brains,
Let the grand Subject of thy Measures be,
No rule to England like a Monarchy.

II.It is the Image of that Domination,
By which Jehova rules the whole Creation,
Angels nor Saints do in his Kingdom share,
God is sole Monarch, they but Subjects are,
Whose Laws are such as when they did Rebell,
Sequester'd not, but sent 'em straight to Hell.

III.As old as that paternal Soveraignty,
God plac'd in Adam, Rul'd his People by,
Disown'd by none, but them whose minds aspire,
And Envy One shou'd have what All desire,
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For be't a Few or Many we live under,
Such shall Repine, still whilst not of the Number.

IV.The Ancients did a Monarchy prefer,
Made all their Gods Submit to Jvpiter,
And (where Affairs, and Nations first began)
Princes Decrees were th' only Laws of Man.
Experience will avow it where ther's Any,
One Honest Man is sooner found then Many.

V.The Rational Soul performs a Princes Part,
She rules the Body by Monarchick Art,
Poor Cranes and little Bees with shivering Wings,
Observe their Leaders and obey their Kings.
Nature her self disdains a crowded Throne,
The Body's Monstrous, has more Heads then One.

VI.A Monarchy's that Politick simple State,
Consists in Unity (Inseprate,
Pure and Intire) A Government that stands,
When others fall, touch'd but with Levelling hands.
So natural and with such skill Endu'd,
It makes one Body of a Multitude.

VII.In order wherein later things Depend,
On former, that's most perfect doth Attend
On Unity: But this can never be,
The Pop'lar state nor Aristocrasy:
For where, or All, or Many bear the sway,
Such Order to Confusion leads the Way.

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VIII.A Monarchy more quickly doth attain
The end propos'd, for tis the single Brain
That ripens Councel, and Concealeth best
Princely designs, 'tis deeds proclaim em blest.
Whilst numerous Heads are rarely of one Mind,
Slow in their Motion, louder then the Wind.

IX.Treason nor Fear so suddenly divides
Th' united strength that in a Crown resides:
Sedition prospers not, it seldom here,
Results the Object of a Prince's fear.
Then when an Empire Rome was nere so strong,
Nor Triumph'd under other Rule so long.

X.A Monarchy abates those Feverish fits,
Of Emulation, a free state begets;
A Prince cannot his Reins so quickly slack,
Or throw his burthen on anothers back:
But where so many Rulers have Command,
The works Transfer'd, and tost from Hand to Hand.

XI.The People or the Nobles to Debate
The deep Concernments of a troubled state,
Set Times and Places have assign'd them, they
First Meet, and then Adjourn from Day to Day.
Whereas a Monarch who by Natures one,
Deliberat's allways, never's off his Throne.

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On His Majesties Recovery AT WINDSOR.

I.THanks High and Mighty one by whom Kings Reign,
We now return unto our selves again,
The Head affected cou'd the Members all
Lye otherwise then Apoplectical?
So when a Spring Head has not passage clear,
The Brooks subside, and Gasping Fish appear.

II.WINDSOR whose lofty Top Mounts to the Sky,
WINDSOR that Writers do so Magnifie?
How had thy name sneak'd under ground and fail'd
Had the Blood-thirsty-Traytor PLOT prevail'd?
Or had so good a Prince by Nature dy'd,
Nature and Thou (as guilty) had been Try'd.

III.In thee too long for shame without a Tomb.
The best of Kings lay after Martyrdom,
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Regardlesly full Thirty Years were spent,
'Twas well his Vertues stood his Monument,
Whence let Contrivers do well or amiss,
MOƲSOLƲS never had the like to His.

IV.His Sacred Urn disturb'd who cou'd have heard,
Without Convulsive Fits what good Men fear'd?
The Perfume of whose Ashes clear'd the Air,
More then Arabian Spices cou'd by far,
So that the Paroxism had Remedy,
Not from dull Phisick, but by Sympathy.

V.Ask the Physician what an Ague means,
He'l talk of Ebollition in the Veins,
Ferment and Circulation stopt, and Chat,
What Baker knows, and Brewer from his Fat,
Take him aside and smile him in the Face,
Indeed quoth he, an Agu's our Disgrace.

VI.And so it had been with a Witness sure,
Had Providence not found a Soveraign Cure,
That Providence that slumbers not nor sleeps,
But his Anoynted still in Safety keeps,
Vouchsafeing Combinations to Reveal,
When the Foundation's laid as deep as Hell.

VII.Whether the Breathing of a Vain gave ease,
And did the Preternatural Heat appease,
In Royal Blood (whose Spirits are so fine,
They of themselves might to give ease incline)
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We argue not, but I dare promise it,
'Twas not the Jesuits Powder checkd the fit.

VIII.Summon Apothecaries, let them tell
How oft our Oaken Bark for it they sell,
And this as well as that has prov'd a spell.
Sacred to Jove, how cou'd her Boughs do less,
Then yield a MONARCH shelter in distress?
For which the Powers above we ever bless.

IX.There lyes our Fort, our Rock of firm Defence,
'Gainst Forreign and Domestick Violence,
Those signal Demonstrations have been given,
Of Preservation (Maugre spite) from Heaven,
Prove CHARLES on Earth Immortal whose Remove
May it be late, then let him Reign above.

X.(Welcome Great Sir) to your Majestick Seat,
To Whitehall Royal and your Chair of State,
From whence let Tamasis the Tydings send,
To Tyber that our Tears are at an End,
Then let the Consistory meet again,
Fret, and lay Cap aside to cool the Brain.

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THE SUCCESSION.

THE precious Gem call'd Loyalty grows scarce,
The Saints pretending, turns it into Farce,
Whilst Englands great Prerogative does grow
Into Contempt by the Tumultuous Foe,
Whose subtile secret Hypocritick gins,
Wou'd turn the Frame of Nature off its pins
A Painted Zeal must back what they Decree,
And while the Cheat pretends to Loyalty,
Heaven must be mock'd t' uphold their Treachery.

Blush then Disloyal Mortals, let your shame
All wild Attempts against your Reason Tame,
Nor think your selves who are but Subjects, Kings,
You know Religion teaches better things,
Late reeling times sufficiently have shown
The Effects of Masquerade Religion,
When Charles the Great whose Memory shall Live,
Cou'd not their Loyal Principles Survive,
And those who dare oppose Succession
Wou'd play the same Game over with the Son,
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This Speaks your trust, the VVounds continue green
Since that Blest Martyr was the Bloudy Scene
Of their Impieties; This Land was wrack'd,
Its Bowels Torn, Natures chief Fabrick Crack'd,
Into Confusion hurld, till in the End
(As each thing does unto its Center tend,)
The Clouds dispers'd, and drove away Despair
VVhen in the Throne appear'd the much wrong'd Heir

VVhom Heaven preserve, and may he ever be
Secure from all pretending Loyalty,
Princes are Gods Anoynted and the Crown,
None can detain but Heavens great Prince alone,
When Natures Law hath been Impeach'd such things
Are wrought by Pow'r Divine, the King of Kings,
By that great Pow'r they Rule, and by no less,
And he who only rais'd them can depress.

All Officers whether of Sword or Gown
Are sworn t'uphold the Rights of Englands Crown
The Commons too before they Voice can claim
Are duly Sworn ith' House to Right the same,
How can we Judg of this but as a Plot
When such a Solemn Oath can be forgot?
It's a high Crime to let a Papist Reign,
But Perjury wee'l Piously maintain,
For a great Vertue when self-interest
In Whispers tells us all goes for the Best,
That Monster Faction evermore did range
In these three Kingdoms to promote a Change,
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Which being upheld by Frenzy, Pride and Scorn,
Of Monarcy, 'tis that's the wounding Thorn,
To publick Peace, and makes the greatest Scars
That fills Mens Mouths with Armys, Bloud and Wars,
'Tis that Deposes Princes, blackens Fame
Whitens the Negro, makes the sound Man Lame,
A Prince oth' the Bloud is a Regardless thing
And if we durst wee'd tell you so's a KING,
Vertues bright Lustre can't her self protect
From base Ingratitude and Disrespect,
It once hath been admir'd in that great Prince
And still may't be his Glorious Defence,
Against the Tongue of everysenseless Brute
That dare Succession to the Crown Dispute.

[Page 13]

A PARADOX Against Liberty, Written by the Lords, during their Imprisonment in the Tower.

A Prison, or the Isle, are much the same;
They onely differ in Conceit and Name.
As Art the first, Nature Immures the last;
Onely i'th' larger Mold her Figure's cast.
All Islanders are in a Prison pent,
And none at large, not those o'th' Continent.
Each Mariner's a Prisoner in his Bark.
The living World was prison'd in the Ark.
And though it be abroad adays; the Light
Still lodges in the Prison of black Night.
The Sea it self, is to its bounds confin'd,
And Aeolus in Caves shuts up the wind:
Nothing in nature has such vast Extent,
But is imprison'd in its Element.
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The Fish in watry Dungeons are inclos'd;
Men, Beasts, and Birds, to Earth and Ayr dispos'd.
If to enlarge their narrow bounds, they strive,
The fatal freedom rarely they survive.
And as with them, we hope with Us 'twill be,
When from their Prisons took, Death sets them free,
Man can no more a native freedome boast;
That Jewel ne're was found, since first 'twas lost.
'Twas then transported to the Stygian Coast.
But still there's something which we do esteem,
Onely because 'tis like the polisht Gem,
And this we Feedome call; its credit grows
From a false stamp, the guilded outside shows:
Which avaritious Man attempts to get,
Cheated and ruin'd with the Counterfeit.
Like Children, Soapy-Bubbles they pursue,
And the santastick Vision, take for true;
But whilst they think bright forms they do enmbrace
Ixion-like, they find a cloud i'th' place.
Consent of Crowds, exceeding credit brings,
And seems to slamp Truths Image on false thing
Not what's a real good, but what does seem,
Still shares the blind and popular esteem.
Whilst Sense and sancy over-rule their choice,
And Reason in th' Election has no voice.
But Souls in vain have Reasons Attribute,
If to the Rule, they cannot Sense submit.
Hence the Heriock mind make; no complaint,
But freedom does Enjoy, even in restraint.
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When Chains and Fetters do his Body bind,
He then appears more free, and less confin'd.
Discord and Care, which do distract him here,
In durance take their leave and come not there.
Falfe Friends and Flatt'rers, then, take last adieu,
Who often swore how faithful and how true,
Things their dishonest bosoms never knew.
These, like the Swallows, in cold weather flye;
A Summers fortune onely draws them nigh.
Elatt'rers a sort of fatal Suckers be,
Which draw the Sap 'till they destroy the Tree.
Fair Vertue to their Obticks when they bring,
Seems a deform'd and antiquated thing.
Vice they commend, whilst Vertue is despis'd;
The blackest by these Negroes most are pris'd.
These slaves to Vice, do hug so hard and long,
Till like the o'refond Ape, they kill their Young.
Ambition in the Mind's a Feverish Thirst,
Which is by drinking dryer than at First;
And these will feed the humour till it burst.
When Parasites the Arbiters are made,
They'l place the Garland on a Beadlam's head.
Riot, Exces, and Pleasure car' the Day,
And Lust (the worst of Tyrants) bears the sway,
At whose black Throne they blind Allegiance pay.
Morose and dull they do account the Grave;
And the Meek-man, fit only for a Slave:
The Humble of a Nature poor and base;
The Chast, sprung from a dull insipid Race;
And Temperance, a Gallant's cheif disgrace.
[Page 16]
In Vertues garb, the great Mans Vice they dress,
Giving it Names which sound of Worthiness.
They call his Pride the Grandeur of his mind,
And for his lust the Name they have design'd
Is a complaisant Ayr, that makes men kind.
Profaneness is his Wit; and his Excess
By a Gay janty Humour they express;
All his Debauches too must be no less.
Thus they lap ruin up, and guild our Crimes;
But Vice destroys, like Ivy, where it climbs.
In us the dangrous state th' Ambitious see
Of Greatness, Avarice, and Flatterie.
Gifts, Honour, Office, Greatness, Grace of Kings,
Raise the Ambitious upon treach'rous wings.
Till from the mighty heights they giddy grow,
And fall into the Ruin lyes below.
If the first fail, which do support our state,
The last our Fall serve to percipitate.
This with too dear Experience we have bought,
And learnt a Lesson, which too late was taught.
Prosperity's a Drug, that must be ta'ne
Corrected, (Opium like) or else 'tis bane.
A more Lethargick quality's in her,
Than ever yet in Opium did appear.
her fatal Poyson to the Mind she sends,
And uncorrect, in sure destruction ends.
Whilst in the way her guilded snares she lays,
Easie and credulous Man she soon betrays;
Who sees her Roses and her Lilies here,
But her concealed Snakes doth never fear.
[Page 17]
Prosperity's repasts puff up the Mind
With unsubstantial and unwholesome wind.
'Tis a Hault-Goust which Epicures do use,
And choicer Viands squeamishly refuse.
But when Affliction moulds your dayly bread,
'Tis then the staff of Life with which she's fed.
Affliction (like the river Nile) bestows
Her fruitful blessings wheresoe'er she flows:
And if when she withdraws, strange Serpents rise,
Not in her streams, but in the Soyl, it lyes.
Which (like the great Apollo) she strikes dead,
By the same Influence they first were bred,
If she return, and shew her hidden head.
Great Minds (like the victorious palms) are wont
Under the Weights of Fortune more to mount.
Strongly supprest, and hurl'd upon the ground,
Fill'd with sublimer thoughts they more rebound.
Still careless whether Fortune smile or frown,
Whether she give, or take away a Crown.
Our Walls are Tyded, and by that we know
She always ebbs, when she doth leave to flow,
And constant in Inconstancy does grow.
Make an attacque all Injuries that can,
They fall like Waves beneath a rising Swan.
Freed and secur'd from all discordant Care,
Here we our heads above the billows bear,
Till from our shoulders they transplanted are.
And from their summits, with dum gapes proclaim,
Of a Quincumvirat the trait'rous shame,
[Page 18]
But during all this Storm, we still do find
An Anchor and a Haven in our Mind,
Not beaten now, though then expos'd to th' Wind.
As Nightingals, our bosom we expose,
And sing, environ'd with the sharpest woes.
Degraded from vain Honour, here we grow
More great and high, as Trees by lopping do.
Honour's like froth in each Man's glass of Beer;
'Tis least of use, though topmost it appear.
The common Vouchee for ill acts she's grown;
It and Religion all our Mischifs own.
She raigns in Youth with an unruly heat,
And in her falser Mirror shews them Great,
Till Age and Time convince them of the Cheat.
Rash heads approve what sober Men despise,
And the fantastict Garb offends the Wise;
She rarely now is seen, but in Diguise.
True Honour and plain Honesty's the same;
From various Dwellings, comes the various Name:
For whilst she gay in Courts, she's Honour there,
But Honesty with us in Durance here.
In differing States, most things have difference:
What pleas'd this day, the next offends the Prince.
The Prosperous loath what the Afflicted love;
Prisoners abhor, what free, they did approve.
And still there's power in each Man choice, to make
Himself content, if he can wisely take,
And think his own (though hard) a happy Stake.
In ev'ry state does some Contentment dwell,
And here we sind a Palace in a Cell.
[Page 19]
Good is good ev'ry where, and ev'ry thing,
And good can of it self no Evil bring.
All good's a raye of the first Light alone;
When Ill approaches, only that's our own.
Vertue's not gain'd by spending of our days
In pleasure, Princes Courts, or from their Rays.
At Vertue's Coast by Travel we arrive,
And so by Travel Vertue's kept alive.
She dwindles if she want due Exercise;
But us'd, grows brighter, and still multiplies.
Vertue increases, Snow-ball-like, rowl'd on:
A lazy Vertue's next of kin to None.
Pris'ners indeed they be, that do lay by
At once their Fredom and their Industry.
If Men turn Drones within these hony'd Hyves,
It lyes i'th' Pris'ner's heart, and not his Gyves.
The good grows better here, the bad grows worse;
The Spur that makes this go, does jade that Horse.
Hence the great'st part are male-content and sad,
Since that the Good are fewer than the bad.
A Bliss that springs from penetential joy,
Is the Minds balsome in each sharp Annoy;
Fools only their own Comforts do destroy.
To this Retrement we can freely go;
'Tis the great'st pace of Majesty below:
Or stirring out imports the World to know.
The Goaler's Centinel to guard our Doors,
And Castles are contain'd i'th' narrow Floors.
More happy and more safe, secur'd from Foes,
Than those whom Troops of Enemies enclose.
[Page 20]
Much more as Pris'ners, our high bliss we boast,
Being secur'd from such a mighty Hoast
Gf deadly Foes, so fierce with wrath and might,
Our selves so feeble, and unfit to fight
'Gainst the black band of vicious and Profane,
Who Thousands do undo in each Campain.
In the Assault, we seldome brook the Field.
But flye like Hares, or else like Cowards yield.
Yet this the World esteems an hard estate,
And Us, who feel it, count unfortunate.
Shew then, Philosophy! the state wherein
Such Safety, and so much Content is seen.
Wherein less rugged or steep hind'rance lyes,
T'obstruct the Path unto Perfection's prize.
The useful Rod's only bound up for this,
To whip and lash the Childish on to Bliss;
Who sullenly refuse the Rod to kiss,
And so the Blessing in the Whipping miss.
Some, like the Whale, only design'd to play
In fruteless pleasures, drive the flying day;
As Boys with Clackers drive the Lent away.
Whilst here, we stop the hours of time, that flyes,
With Contemplation's nobler Exercise.
Maurge all Goals, think we e're long must dye,
And then enjoy an endless Liberty;
Death will redeem from long Captivity.
Man's Life's a Piece spun of a various Thred;
In some 'tis fine, in some a courser Web.
The Threads across, th' Occurrences of Fate,
Cut early from the Loom by Death or late.
[Page 21]
The Dread of Kings, Death, does not us dismay;
To Dye's less than be Tantalis'd each day.
What Man complains, with Weariness opprest,
That Night is come, the only Time to Rest?

The last SPEECH OF Sr. Edmundbury Godfrey's Ghost.

LOok up? Base Croaking Zealots of the Age,
Before your Frenzy Wits, fall into rage;
Look here? Who Vindicates the Royal Stage.
Godfrey's brave Spirit, doth this day appear,
Tremble ye now for Anger, or for Fear.
His worthy Ghost, that courted Sacred good,
Has past the dangers, of the Stygian Flood;
Left the Elizian Shades, by strict commands,
To see once more how this poor Cuntrey stands.
But to our shame his grived Soul doth find,
(Lunatick Zeal) with us hath Been too kind,
And struck his Loving Fellow Subjects Blind.
[Page 22]
He fears our Disobedience to a Prince,
Whom Heaven protected, (he can the World con­vince,
From Zealous Rage; and Traytors hands long since.
He sees and fears, that in-bread Wars are coming,
By Zealous Prayer created, Preach'd by cunning,
Holy Long-winded, Fervent, Piows, Men
Who seem as innocent as the prety Wren;
But if well tryd, we easily may find,
They unto none, but to themselves are kind;
Envy all happiness, but what's their own,
Have humble outsides, inwardly o're-grown,
With Pride, Ambition, snd Self-Interest;
Longing with Crounes themselves for to Invest,
For what is Monarchy to them that say,
They are all Monarch's, that Zealoufly can Pray
He sees foul threatnings, and intestine Thunder,
The Plagues of Eating Swords, Domestick Plunder
Foretels the Fathers striking of his Suns,
Who without Mercy, on their Old Sire runs;
Sees the Sons base Revenge upon the Father,
Who never leave, till all lye dead together;
Friend killing Friend, a Brother Fights a Brother
And spares his own Blood less then any other.
A wake, a wake, I say awake be times,
Before your Sovls, feed on such Hellish Crimes;
Let your own reason, cleat your blinded Eyes,
Let sad experience, banish such Tragedies;
And as you older are, still grow more wise.
[Page 23]
Beware those Monsters, that have taught your Zeals,
First to Bethrone your Prince (whom God an heals,)
Then brings Destruction, to your Publick Weals,
For doubtless such base Principles as these,
Cannot, but must the Heavenly Power Displease.
Godfrey's fore-grived-Ghost, weeps Bloody Tears,
Seeing you drawn by jealoufies and Fears,
To act those things, which Murdring sorrow bears.
Is it so longe since, that you have forgot,
Can you so soon wash out that Royal Spots,
Of Sacred Innocent Blood, bring back to mind,
Murdring the Sire, then to the Son be kind,
And say again your Zeal had made you blind.
Let not Religions Cloak, your Bodies cover,
And under That Both Prince and Countrey Smo­ther.
To make your selves, more hateful, and less good
Then Lucifer and his Rebelliovs. Brood.
You as a parelel to them I bring,
Both striving (with this Difference in the thing,)
They 'gain their Heavenly—,
But you, both 'gainst, your Heaven and Earthly King.
But yet a King so good. so sweet, so great.
Makes all your joys and happiness Compleat.
Them onely are excepted, that you see
Fain would be Monarch's, Kings as well as He.
Let not your Loving Godfrey longer weep,
But let his weary Ghost retire to sleep;
[Page 24]
Who never can have rest, unless he find,
Your souls more Loyal to your Prince more kind;
Endeavouring still to immitate those Quires,
That with their Harps, and Hearts, and Sacred Lyres,
Sing to their Heavenly King, who can alone,
Set whom he Pleases on an Earthly Throne.

ON THE DEATH Of the Protestant Joyner.

I.BRave Colledg is Hang'd, the Chief of our hopes,
For pulling down Bishops and making New Popes,
Our dear Brother Property crawls on the Ground,
In Poland, K— Anthony ne're will be Crown'd:
For now they'r resolv'd, that Harts shall be Trump,
And the Prentises Swear, they will Burn the Old Rump.

[Page 25]
II.Brave Colledge, both Champion and Carver of Laws,
Who dyed undaunted, and stuck to the Cause;
What mischief might thou to the Godly have done
Had thy dareing Soul, dreaded the World to come?
And all thy dear Party to danger expos'd.
If thou to the World, had thy secrets disclos'd.

III.But now thou art Hang'd, and that fear is past,
Were all that's in question as safe in the Nest,
Then we some new means, might consult or contrive,
To drive on our purpose, to prosper or thrive:
But the Popish PLOT, has now quite lost i'ts Name,
And none thy bright Blunderbush dare to maintain.

IV.What K—but Great Colledge, could er'e make a Pope
Tho' he was or'e rul'd by the end of the Rope?
Great Colledge, was certainly Jure Divino,
When the Tripple Crown, on the Popes Heap did Shino.
He burnt him to ashes, for pastime like Nero
Then straight made a new one, such Power had our Here.

V.Great Colledge, must certainly dye a good Martyr,
Being Knight of the Halter, and above the Garter;
Our dear Brother States-man, tho' bred in a Saw-pit,
Had Internal Genious, enough to or ethrow Wit:
He fram'd a new Moddle, to limit the K—,
In hopes Crown and Scepter, might truckle to him.

[Page 26]
VI.Great, Brittain, ne're bred such a Brother as Colledge,
He made Seven Popes, in his Time on our knowledg;
Our Signals of Crimes, he put in the Popes Armes
Which prudent Contrivance, our Function Alarms.
With threats in Petition, Kings Power to restrain,
Yet Towser and Broomstaff, rides Admiral again.

VII.Great Hanibals Conquest, nor Olivers Nose,
Could with such small Slaughter, subdue such great Foes,
As he in this three years, with the help of our Party,
Hath check't our three Kingdoms and Magna Carta.
The Head of our Church, and the Head of our Cause,
He would have maintain'd them by Perjury and Blows.

VIII.He now may becall'd, a third Saviour oth' Nation,
To save his dear Church he Renounced Salvation;
Like Famous Cargile, he dy'd for King Jesus,
Defying Church Idols; enough to amaze us:
He ty'd up together, both his and our Crimes,
And dy'd like a Devil, to damp our Designes.

IX.Our cause toth' Carrecter-men, we must refer
To Shadwell, and Settle, to Curtis, and Carr.
To know who Succeeds, our Late Captain the Joyner,
He must be an Artist, some Carver, or Coyner,
To make our Solemnity, and some New Popes,
On which our dependency, hangs and our hopes.

[Page 27]
X.But when the time comes, that the Pope must be burn'd
Ifear we shall finde that the Tide is much turn'd?
For the Tory Party, hath got so much ground,
To Head a Rebellion there's none will be found;
For now they'r Resolved that Harts shall be Trump;
And the Prentices Swear, they'l burn the Old Rump.

XI.Such a confused Monster, they swear they'l Compose
Of all the Dissenters, that are the Kings Foes;
The Baptist, and Biter, the Pendant, and Quaker,
From which they will draw such a prodigious Creature:
More Diabolical Invective far,
Then all Popes Solemnity's at Temple-Barr.

XII.Our Common-Councel lets Summon together,
To Pannel pack't Jury's, Let's mak't our endeavour,
For an Habeus Corpus, Insists on our Power;
To fetch our Great Patriots out of the Tower;
And then we'le Dispute the Case, for Reformation,
And make the Provd Torys Resign us the Nation.

[Page 28]

INNOCENCE UNVEIL'D: OR, A POEM On the Acquittal of the Lord Chief Justice SCROGS.

Right Honourable,

IMperious Bedlow, and his Oaten Friend,
Will now begin to buckle, or to bend:
Now I do plainly see that they are Fools,
They find it dang'rous meddling with Edge-Tools
Justice is sharp when 'tis too much abus'd,
Justice unjustly lately was accus'd:
And now what follows, Scourges of the Law,
To keep such bold-fac'd Fellows all in awe.
Your Innocence (unless I miss my mark)
Will make their Evidence look dull and dark.
Had they but found you Guilty, I dare swing
If they had let alone our Gracious King.
Their Heads were very high, their Hearts too stout,
Now give their Pride and Confidence a rout.
[Page 29]
The House of Commons is there All in All,
And while they stand, the Coxcombs cannot fall.
This is their strong conceit; they do not fear:
But ev'ry man that has an ear to hear,
Shall shortly hear that they have spoil'd their sport
By nothing more, than by this false Report.
Those Scriblers Harris, Smith, and Care, will quake,
For their Foundation doth begin to shake:
The first and second Saviour both look pale,
To see their Gall and Malice doth so fall:
The Rubbish is remov'd, Knaves must fly hence,
For who can stand against our Innocence!
The Chief in Justice shines in's proper place,
Whilst Envy lies obscur'd with great disgrace.
Plot on, thou puny Levite, but beware
(Both Thou, the Captain Harris, Smith, and Care,
Of him you aim'd to catch within your Snare.
His great Integrity is fully known,
And well approv'd by him that wears the Crown;
Is't a light thing to tread our Justice down?
Might Justice once be trodden under feet,
Then ev'ry Knave would strive for CHARLES his Seat:
Justice is not so weak as you suppose;
Your Smith may sooner take the Devil by th' Nose,
Than think his Libels or your Oaths can taint
That that's the Badge of every Earthly Saint.
Injustice is your Justice, I'me affraid,
But yet by Justice you shall all be paid?
You have had Rope enough too much I doubt,
Indeed I wonder that your Necks are out.
[Page 30]
You are not Hang'd, but choak'd up in your Throats,
Now who'l believe the Rev'rend Dr. Oates,
Or the Heroick Captain? Commons may
Not when they find your Truth is gone astray:
My Lord Chief Justice Story will be told,
And 'twill appear that you have been too bold,
And Truth and Justice both at once you've sold.

ADVICE TO THE Painters Adviser,

WE Dogs and Lions by their Voices know,
For by their Notes themselves all Creatures show;
Yet here's a Thing I know not what to call,
He roars and Barks; what's Good he curses all.
No Monster that e're yet from Africk came,
But what would start at thy prodigious Fame;
Yet we thy Name nor Pedigree can tell,
Thou dar'st Blaspheme beyond the Mouths of Hell.
What shall I call thee, Monster or base Fiend,
That canst daub Paper to so base an end?
[Page 31]
Unmouth that Tongue, maugre its double Pale,
(Fit Instrument to tell the Devils Tale)
Which dar'd blaspheme that Sacred Majesty,
The voice of Angels joy'd to Deifie.
Foul Traitor, to bespatter such a King
With th' Aspish Poison of thy slandering,
Whose ev'ry Action (if the Truth we scan)
Speaks as much God, as his Foes find him Man?
A Prince so tender of his Subjects Good,
As would redeem the meanest with his Blood:
Heavens Joy, Earths Pride; when After-age shall tell
His Worth and Parts, 'twill want a Parrellel.
Let Greece and Rome their Heroes Punies call,
Our Charles the Great I'm sure outdoes them all.
Curst Caitiff, thy sharp Arrow, bitter word,
Gaul'd more than Europ's many edged Sword.
Ye Heavens look to't, he that attempts so high
As Vice-God Charles, threats Gignatomachy.
So he that stabb'd fam'd Millain's Duke of yore,
By Practice at his Picture did no more.
But (Oh! the Devil) see the Serpent flies
To his first course, he doubles his Advice
To a poor Painter, to draw this and that,
And draws himself into the Lord knows what.
Even so those Brats of sin we blush to own,
We bring to others doors, and lay them down.
But (pox upon his Picture) to be short,
The wary White could have no colour for't;
[Page 32]
Else Hell had paid the Wages of th' abuse,
His Quidlibit audendi's no excuse.
Kings failings (if th' are any) ought not lie
An open Prospect for the Vulgar Eye.
He that drew Alexander's scarry Face,
Discreetly put his Finger on the place:
But where's the Artest that can frame a Line,
To Shadow or Eclipse the Glorious Shine
Of CHARLES'S Ray? what Eagle-eye can gaze
On so much Sun, or fully such a Blaze.
Illustrious i'th' Abstract, whose each Glance
Would strike Presumption out of Countenance;
Much less can any draw his Treasur'd Mind,
To every Noble Virtuous Mood inclin'd;
Ʋnblemish'd as the Saints, the Sun less clear
In that first Shine which Summer'd all the Year:
Our Painters well knew this, who e're read o're
A Face more puzling Art, a Mind much more.
Then, Devil do thy worst, with thy Advice,
Charles and his Court are 'bove thy Calumnies.
Powers and Dignities approach the Skies,
Like Ships the more the Waves do under rise.
But 'tis not each Gods Fate alone, else why
Do Miscreants slight the Angels Ministry?
Ours is but little lower, one remove,
Vicegerent to the King of Kings above.
The best are still the most malign'd with wrong,
Vertue's no fence against a spiteful Tongue;
[Page 33]
Is th' Object of his prophanation.
Tho pure as new fall'n Snow, free from offence,
As blameless Truth, and white as Innocence.
His breath blasts those, whose breath perfuming Air,
Makes all (save that) as sweet as they are fair,
Unbitter'd bitterness it self of all,
Earth's Heavenly few, the most Angelicall,
But Vice be dam'd, thou art like one of those,
Who giddi'd in a Ship at Sea, suppose
The Continent doth move as well as they,
All tread awry to those whose Feet are splay.
If (though our thoughts are free) we must not think
Ill of the King; he that shall black his Ink,
And pale his Paper with words, startles more,
Than, Lord, have mercy, chalk'd upon the door,
To traduce Princes in the shapes of sin,
Wise Painters choose to draw the Devil in;
These are the marks o'th' Beasts, who casts an eye
On those (as on a Basilisk) must die.
The Mecha Pilgrims at their Prophets Tomb,
Need nothing else to make them blind or dumb.
Here now my Muse would sit as Judg at last,
And Sentence pass on every Sentence past;
But he's not worth the while, Avant, be gone;
Yet first attend thy Benediction:
Thou that darst own, and dost desire no Name,
But what is Registred to endless shame,
Live long in all the Plagues this World affords;
And if thou wilt repent and eat thy words
[Page 34]
To choak thee; or, to give the Devil's due,
The Hangman draw thee, and thy Painter too.

THE HYPOCRITICAL CHRISTIAN: OR THE Conventicling Citizen.

WEll! for a careful foresight, sober wit,
Give me a Godly, zealous, Wiggish Cit.
He twice a Week to Conventicle walks,
Where Bawling, Canting Preacher Nonsense talks.
He squeamish Fool for Orthodox Divine
Nere cares; because he cannot Sob, and Whine.
He likes a Tubster with his down cast Face,
His Comic Postures, and his damn'd Grimace.
But hates the Rev'rend Clergy of the Town,
Disdains with Pride a Pulpiteer in Gown.
And every Parson Dr. Crape he'l call;
Like Lad of late at Merchant-Taylors Hall.
Whose sneaking looks his Principles betray'd.
It was a sly, starv'd Whig in Masquerade,
A stingy perjur'd, faithless Renegade.
[Page 35]
The Godly Puppet came (he said) to see,
And know the Humour of the Company.
But the Glut'nous Ass he was so nesty,
Hew'd down the Walls of the Ven'son Pasty.
To come to's rost; Alas! the Tarts and Pyes,
To's Ostrich-stomack fell a Sacrifice.
His Appetite was keen for all's pretences,
He pleas'd his Eye, and Banqu'tted his Senses.
Then all the generous Guests traduces,
With sturring, dirty, pit'ful abuses.
Because they drank a Loyal Health or two,
He calls them Popish, Torish drunken Crew.
A parcel of mean sordid Lads there were,
Who he was certain near eat Buck before.
For such abuses let the Lad beware,
And so let pimping, Whiggish Harry Care.
Who's Tugging daily to Promote the Cause,
To T'wart all Justice, and make Null the Laws.
One Ignoramus-man, (says he) at least,
Is able purchase all that were at Feast.
All their Estates in equal Ballance lai'd,
By one Whig-Jury-man's would be out-weigh'd.
Faith! Harry's very generous; he prates
As tho he really knew all mens Estates.
Poor Mr. Christian's dead, and th' Dukes Grace,
May give to Harry his old Stewards Place.
For he's a Godly, Honest Man, and true,
And do's deserve his Place, and Pill'ry too.
His too hot Zeal for Teckley Reformation,
In broaching Falshoods, t'embroil the Nation;
[Page 36]
His Venting this, and contradicting that,
Shew him more Fool, or Knave, than pillar'd Nat:
The greatest Truths that published can be,
By Hodge; are Story's and damn'd Ribaldry,
If it with his and Gotham's disagree,
The Dukes young Daughter could not live, 'twas said
'Twas so infirm a Child, and since 'tis dead.
The Serenading Crew, for all their squeaking,
Were Thieves, and did intend House-breaking.
Contriv'd with's Grace, a black and dismall War,
To batter him with Fiddles and Gitter,
The Instrument of Death, a small Rechorder,
And Fiddle Stick, and Pipe to do th' Murder.
The Chichester Informer took a Pot,
Too much of Brandy; and his Brains were hot,
Broke Windows, was a swearing drunken Sot.
H' had wild Freaks, ungovernable Passions,
And dy'd (like Bishop's Horse) of the Fashions.
The fine Prelatic Jade will sure be Sainted,
Yes, yes: If Baxters book of Saint's reprinted.
Then Curtiss, Care with mighty Polander,
Shall have their Names in Whiggish Calender.
And all who carry on the work o'th' Laird.
Shall have a good and bountifull Reward.
In this large Catalogue of Fools and Knaves,
Come Leaden Constables with Wooden Staves.
With Solemn Oaths they gravely can dispence,
They have a swinging well stretcht Conscience.
Who take up the Office out of mighty Zeal,
To support their Brethren o'th' Common Weal.
[Page 37]
They to th' Brother-hood send holy Greetings,
Acquaint them how they'l come molest th' Meetings.
Then hey! the Godly Flock's dispers'd and gone,
And all (like young Fledg'd Birds) are quickly Flown.
The Preacher then with's Congregation,
Give thanks for this great Preservation,
And Orders that th' Thanks of the House be sent,
To Godly Constable for's good intent.
O! what will not Men do, if this they dare,
To Affront Justice? And themselves Forswear
To Oblige a few, and such a Faction please,
Who in this Government were ne're at ease.
Thus Officer (though gravely Sworn) Cologues,
Call's Hilton Fool, and all th' Informers Rogues.
Though he hath Warrants with him, that's all one,
In spite of Laws, he Executeth none.
'Tis strange, such Meetings cannot silenc'd be,
Where Preacher bawls so much for Liberty,
And boldly talks of Subjects Property.
Oh! Horrid Insolence! can Justice sleep?
Not see such Vermin into Corners creep?
Seduce poor Women, and on Cit impose,
Draw him through Bogs of Error by the Nose.
Tell him of Plots, and great Designs, forsooth
All which the Cred'lous Cit sucks in for Truth,
That sev'ral Jesuits were up and down,
In close Cabals, for to enslave the Town.
It was, not long ago at Lor'ners-Hall,
That Youngster did for Magna Charta Bawl.
[Page 38]
And (like Hugh Peters) with new strange Alarms,
Bid 'm beware, stand stifly to their Arms.
To quit themselves like Men; be Strong and Stout,
Secure their Persons, and the Tories Rout.
What? lose the Priv'ledge of Chusing Shrieves,
Why North and Rich will prove two deadly Thieves.
They'l rob you of your Jury's here at home,
And make you fall sad Victims unto Rome.
Then still oppose the Polls of Sir John More,
He hugs that Witch, the Babylonic Whore,
Will ne're your Native Liberty's restore.
Be ready too, your Charter to secure,
Who those damn'd Que-Warranto's can't endure?
You see that Oxford stoutly doth Defie,
Such Writs; and will protect their Liberty.
Ne're trust their Charter in the Hands of King's,
Who'd bauk their Priv'ledge, and clip their Wings.
Then stand it out Boyes still, and still be Famous,
(Like Oxford Towns-Men) for old Ignoramus.
But I'm inform'd of late that Whiggish Town
Is Alter'd strangely; and is Loyal grown,
An Impudent Resistance do's disown.
The Charter they'l Resign for all the bawling,
Of Foolish Wright, and self-conceited Pawling.
To oppose the Loyalists the Whigs don't dare,
The Youngsters laugh at dull Machine the Mayor.
Thus Honesty, I hope, in vogue may be,
And Cit may find his long lost Loyalty,
And baul no more for Bugbear Property.
[Page 39]
May names of Parties and Distinctions cease,
May Faction fall, and Loyalty increase,
To Stablish here an Universal Peace.
May Cit to Church devoutly go and Pray,
And ne're dispise a Godly-Homily.
Ne're Meet thus in Un-hallowed Barns and Sty's,
And blindly Offer their Fools Sacrifice.
Leave Cit, those Synagogues, and do Conform,
Into the Churches Breast at last Return.
Cast off (for Shame) the Factious Crew; you know
How they Prophanely impudent do grow.
An Am'rous Brother late so kind and tender,
Did there with Sister Publickly Engender.
The Preacher saw the Godly Act of Grace,
Saw the Lewd Couple Zealously Embrace.
He nodded, Frown'd, and gravely did Reprove,
Their wicked Satyr's way, of Brutal Love.
Hence forth he'l have a Smarter Rod in Pickle,
For such Debaucher's of's dear Conventicle.
From such Vile Cells as from Contagion slee,
Such Deeds were never seen in Monast'ry.
Beleive it (to th' Eternal shame of Meetings)
Nor in our Churches are such Carnal Greetings.
Then pri'thee Disaffected Cit Comply,
With Law; and thou'lt enjoy thy Liberty.
Securely live beneath thy Vine at ease.
Thy Credit and thy Fortune will encrease.
Be Loyal, and Defend the Kings Just Right,
Ne're read a Factious Pamphlet with delight.
[Page 40]
Ne're seed on Horse flesh; nor read vain Discourses,
'Twixt Charing-Cross and your Wool-Church-Horses.
Ne're have a Vitious thought 'gainst Majesty,
But let all Treason Talkers silenc'd be,
Those Vermin that do girn at Monarchy.
Oppose their barking; and let the World know
You can be honest, if you would be so.
The Comet that appear'd did sure portend,
That all your Factions here will have an end,
And Zealous Conventiclers will amend.

On the Loyal Apprentices FEAST.

THe buisy Town grew still, and Trait'rous Whigs
Had lately chang'd their Looks & Periwigs,
Lest Envy's Face behind, and Sniv'ling Cant,
And Hectors turn'd, with Loyalists to Rant.
I know not which it was, whether They thought
Some Conventicling Whores might there be brought
[Page 41]
By strict Devotion to meet a BROTHER;
Or whether 'twas they Scented out some other
Warm Zealous Game, as Pasty, Pudding-Pie,
Not Superstitious now, if WHIG be by.
But somthing 'twas made Godly'st Men o'th'Nation
Back-slide a little now for Recreation;
And here's a Penitential Psalm of One
That tells his BRETHREN what Himself has done
At LOTAL-FEAST in MERCHNT-TAYLORS-HALL
'Mongst Coxcomb-Lords, and Worshippers of BAAL;
Whither Foolish KING, and PRINCES too had sent
Fat BƲCKS, in Sacrifice to IDOLS meant.
Yet 'mongst such Fools a WHIG can Eat and Drink,
Whilst H'one thing Speaks, and doth another Think.
He in Deceit can mannage cunning slight;
Not so the Tories, they must be downright,
And naturally are so to all Mens sight.
But Whigs with Reservation Speak and Write,
And far out-do the greatest Jesuite.
Well; Fools we must be then, the Whigs will have
For their dear selves the other Sir-name, Knave.
Then let them hav't, well give the Devil's due,
Whig earns it better than Papist, Turk, or Jew:
'Tis but re-counting in PHANATICK strain
The foulest Crimes, and then they're SAINT again.
A FALLEN STAR to day, perhaps to morrow
May shine like LƲCIFER, and from him borrow
A brand or two of his Infernal LIGHT,
T'intoxicate poor people in the Night.
[Page 42]
New Lights, and new Discoveries they bring,
Dark-Lanthorn-Counsels how to 'buse the King;
Make every thing Ridiculous appear,
That pleases HIM, or any LOYAL PEER.
The ROYAL FAM'LY's but a Popish Crew,
And Doctor Crape-Gowns are all Papists too;
A puny Pray'rs the best thing they can tell ye,
Whilest their Devotion's fix'd upon their Belly:
Loyal ADDRESSES, and ABHORRENCES,
(Quoth Turn-Coat Whig) are sottish Flatteries;
The KING delights in Parasites, we see,
And none but Fools can in His Favour be;
Dissolving Parliaments deserves Damnation,
For keeping Publick Justice from the Nation;
And th' Godly Persecuted. 'Lass! 'tis worse
Than Tyranny, or Arbitrary Force.
Popery is come already! Where be we?
Brethren, stand fast in Christian Liberty.
See how the Loval Beagles of the Town
Flock from their Shops, t'adore the Idol CROWN.
Those filly Curs, that sometimes us'd to help's,
And foll'w our keen Rebellious Bloud-hound Whelps,
They're now declaring for the ROYAL CAUSE,
Think KINGLY BLOUD too Sacred for our Jaws.
Help now or never, Baxter, Curtis, Care,
And all True Patriots of our Holy War;
The KING and COVRT can't be more odious made,
Strike now; strike home, or all our PLOT's betraid.
Thus far the Whigs; For here the True Sence lies
Of all their Libels, Rhithmes, and Forgeries;
[Page 43]
And yet they're LOYAL still; But ye must know
'Tis with a Mental Reservation though,
As Brother Poet has at last confest;
Who, if he'd hid This Truth, had spoil'd his Jest.
Ay, we've experienc'd well what LOYALTY
Since Forty One, his Brethren brood and he
Are like to shew; which makes us think, and say,
Old Nick's as True, and Loyal too, as They.
But YOU, Brave Loyal YOƲTHS (that Fools & Fops
Are nick-nam'd by the Rebel-Rout) Your shops
Shall be Protected, by the Sov'reign Charms
Of CHARLES and YORK, and their Victorious Arms;
With Heav'ns assistance, win Your selves Renown,
Redeem the Credit of this Ancient Town;
Say, LONDON'S 'PRENTICES have done the thing,
Joyn'd Zeal to GOD with Duty to the KING.

[Page 44]

ON Old Doctor Wild's New POEM TO HIS Old Friend, upon the New PARLIAMENT.

THus 'tis to stand Condemn'd by rigorous Fate
To the vile Plague of a Poetick Pate:
The Itch of Rhyming where it once does seize,
Becomes a more Incurable Disease
Than Pox or Scurvey: Harder 'tis to rout
WILD's Scribling humour, than to Charm his Gout
An Old Man's twice a Child, I heard folks say,
But never more, than when he would seem Gay,
And does with Jingling Hobby-horses play:
When sprightly Fancy's gone, the doting Bungler
Mounts the brisk Muse, but proves an errant Fumble
Gets only Puling Verse, languid and thin,
Not to be call'd a Birth, but Souterkin.
[Page 45]
Sorry dull Puns, and Nauseating Quibbles,
Worse than old Crab-i'th-wood, or Belman Scribbles.
Just so Sir Limber-ham that scarce can crawl,
Will on his Venus, and his Cupids call;
And drains Five hundred Pieces from his Purse
To keep a Miss, when more he wants a Nurse.
But tell me Reverend Songster! was it fit
Thy Doctorship should thus the Pulpit quit,
To Revel in such Babylonish Wit?
Thy very Friends when they thy Poem scan,
Say only—He's a Towardly old Man.
Though thou forgot'st thy Calling, Age, Degree,
This Subject sure should curb thy Levity
To treat of PARLIAMENTS at such a rate,
In fulsom Metaphors of Billings-gate,
Before th' August Illustrious Senate come,
And straight turn up, (sans shame,) thy Aged Bum
Deserves a Lash from the Black Rod at least
To make th' Old Baby smart for the lewd Jest,
Amongst so many Olds as thou dost trace,
'Tis strange the Good Old Cause obtain'd no place.
Then Poor Dissenter bravely might Ascend
Into a Pulpit from the Tables end,
And Hold forth Godly Sonnets to his Friend.
We all are Joy'd at present Face of Things,
And thank both Heav'ns kind Influence, and the Kings,
ROMES Vultures, nor the Gallick Cocks we fear,
Safe in our watchful Eagles Royal Care:
Yet love not to run mad, and Dance the Hay,
As stung (like thee) With a Tarantula:
[Page 46]
VVho e're thy greazie Tale of Pork does view,
Suspects thee for the By-blow of a Jew.
Thy Grandam when she burnt th'old Stock, was cruel,
Not Bees but Wasps deserve to be made Fewel:
Good Housewives do not think her Method safe,
To Drive is better than to Burn by half;
But these Wild Sallies do too plainly show,
Thou dost but Cackle when thou thoughtst to Crow.
Treating of Richest Robes of State, and Ermin,
Thou just like some Pot-Poets Cozen German
Bethinks thee of th'own thred-bare Cloaths & Ver­min.
Then cry'st to Longlane with them-New put on;
Sweet Sir! 'tis timely thought of, may't be done.
But best make haste e're Ketches Wardrobe's gone
Thinkst thou (VVILD as thou art!) such Lang­uage meet
T'approach the Soveraign Legislative Seat?
Pardon Great Senate! that his Phrensy drew
Me to the Rudeness here of naming You.
The haughtiest Subjects tremble when they come
To your Just Barr, and dread th'Impartial Doom.
Fair Copy of Heavens Policy! the same
Idaea that rules the Ʋniversal Frame,
VVhere Nobles, as the Fixed Stars do shine
In Honours Firmament; And Rays Divine
From Reverend Fathers of the Church are spread,
To strike both Schism and Superstition dead.
Next, Sages of the Law, as Planets trace
Their Circuits, to enliven in each place
[Page 47]
Those needful ACTS which here are fram'd, and deal
Distributive Justice for the Publick weal.
Then COMMONS as full Constellations, joyn,
And their Wise Councels solemnly Combine,
VVhilst Sacred Majesty incircled round
VVith Native Glory, as the Sun, is found
Beaming his Acts of Grace so free and bright,
That all from Him borrow both Heat and Light.
Healing Assembly! whensoe're you meet,
The Peoples Choice, and the KINGS Wishes greet:
Their Liberties, His Honour, You mantain,
O let them ne'r be Differenc'd again!
In his own proper Orb let each Star move,
Not Jostling those Below, nor them Above.
Let no False Fires their dazling Beams display,
Nor upstart Meteors interrupt your way:
All Your Debates lot Moderation Calm,
And Your Results become the Nations Balm.
Those little Foxes that the Land Defile,
And seek our Vine and Tender Grapes to spoil,
Unkennel them; and let ROMES Conclave see,
In vain they PLOT, whilst You our Guardians be.
May Heaven all Your Consultations Bless,
And all Good Men pray for your wisht Success.
But our Old Buisie Rhymer we shall lose,
Who Hawks and Kites, and blind Buzzards pursues,
Ʋntil at last like a Bewildred Jolt-head,
His Muse has all her Borrowed Feathers moulted.
Age makes all stoop—How fast the Man descends?
Commences Doctor, and Poor Robin, Ends.

[Page 48]

SCANDAL PROOF, OR AN Heroick Poem On the Renowned Champions of the Good Old Cause, Inpudent Dick Janeway, and the rest of the Factious Tribe.

COme on ye Scribling Rebels of the Age,
Come on I say, advance upon the Stage;
Arm'd with Phanatick Malice, Zeal and Rage.
Display your Merits to the Publick View,
Tell'em'tis You'r their Champion, none but You
Dare Counter-Plot the Popish Plotting Crew,
Faith 'twas great pity there was not a Tryal
Between that pack of Priests, who did deny all,
And You Phanatick Scriblers who Belly-all:
I mean that Zealous Sanctified Gang,
Comus, and Hal-Old Elephant, and Lang-
(who precious Saints) no doubt in time may Hang.
[Page 49]
And make as Fine a Show, as Whitebread did
VVith th' other precious four whose Souls are fled
Into another World; yet 'twas unkind
To leave such Holy Brethren thus behind,
Without Directions, where their Friends to find.
Alas poor Harmless Devils, what a Pother
They make to Troop so hasty after th'other:
Who dy'd great Rogues, yet ne'r deny'd their Trade
As you do, who their Mistery Invade,
Proving your selves Jesuits in Masquerade.
I Laugh to see how you'd the World deceive,
If they would all your Lying Tricks believe;
As how you'rth' only Men, that stand i'th' Gap,
There to repel th' approaching Thunder-Clap
Of Popery, which Threatens all the Nation,
With no less than a Total Inundation;
Unless prevented by your Reformation.
This is a precious hopefull Age, no doubt,
When such an Impious, Daring Rebel Rout;
Such Wretched Tools as You shall undertake
A Reformation in the Church and State.
Yet 'tis but what we must expect from You,
Who in plain Terms, (to give the Devil his due)
Pretend to Love the King, but hate him too.
Among the rest of this Phanatick Knot
Of Factious Whigs, Faith I had quite forgot
To mention that Fgregious Rascal Dick,
That Wondrous Lying Son of Damn'd Old Nick:
Impartial Rakehell whose Romantick Skill
Excells the other Lying Knights o' th' Quill:
[Page 50]
So like a Janus, does Dick Janeway look,
We see his Double Face in every Book;
In which wee'r Weekly Plagu'd with's Impudence,
Offensive to all Loyal men of Sense,
Who hate both Dick, and's Damn'd Impertinence.
Well then, go on thou Cursed Rogue in Grain,
Proceed to Write in thy own Lying Strain.
'Tis Meritorious; thou deserv'st Applause,
By Propping up the Sinking Damn'd Old Cause,
Which not prevented, Ruins the King & Laws:
Go tell th'awaken'd World, (but 'tis in vain)
You Love (alas you Lye) Great Charles his Raign:
How canst thou Love the King, or can your Brood
Of Whigs, when Treason Taints your Soul & Blood,
Ye Damn'd Antipodes to all that's good.
But Thou amongst the rest art such a Fool,
Poor Silly Rogue! They use thee for a Tool:
A certain necessary Implement,
To Print and own the Lyes that they Invent;
A Foppish Brazen Fool, that's led Astray
By every Cunning Whig that shews the way:
With what Officious Care thou Plagu'st thy Brains,
To get the Name of Villain for thy pains;
Like that Inglorious Rogue that set on Flame
Diana's Temple; which to the Villains shame
He only did, to gain a Carsed Fame:
Such is thy Cursed Care thou damned Fop,
Whose Pate more sit for Scullens Broom, or Mop;
Merits the Glorious Name of busie Sot,
And (Calves-Head-like) deserves to go to Pot.
[Page 51]
Thou Dull Insipid Coxcomb, worse then Beast,
What Guts and Garbidge hath thy Brains possest;
To make thy Scribling Whelpship so Uncivil,
So unlike man, and so much like the Devil:
Sure thou'rt the Spawn of some Ill Natur'd Gipsy,
Got in a Barn, perhaps where each was Tipsy;
Hatcht up with th' noise of Tory, Rory, Randy,
The pure effects of Ale, and Beer, and Brandy;
And ever since thou'st been the Devils Imp,
Diffenters Bully, and Phanaticks Pimp:
A perfect Staulking Horse unto all those,
That Hate the King, and Love the Kingdoms Foes:
A Drudging Journy-man, a Slave to th' Pope,
Next Heir in Law to the Heer Van Ketch his Rope;
One whom the Devil, for his Excellent Work
Is more beholding to, then Pope or Turk.
Mayst thou at length receive thy Merits Due,
As Ample as the Popish Plotting Crew;
So Janeway, fare thee well, until I see
Thy Rogueship made St. Dick at Tyburn Tree.

[Page 52]

Fitz-Harris HIS Farwell to the WORLD, OR A TRAYTORS Just Reward.

FArwell great Villain, and unpittied Lie,
Instead of Tears drawn from a tender Eye;
Ten thousand Traytors like Fitz-Harris dye.

Unhuman Monster, to the World ingrate,
An Enemy to the King, the Church and State;
Hadst thou been starv'd, 't had been too kind a Fate.

His Crimes were horrid, infamous and base.
Deserves a total extinct of his Race;
Banish his Name unto some dismal place.

What's worse than injuring Sacred Majestie?
For which he suftered on the fatal Tree;
May all men suffer for such Loyalty.

[Page 53]

England may then be glad, with Triumph sing,

When all her Foes are vanisht with a string;

The Golden Age from Halcion-days will spring.

Those Wolves that Plot Protestant Lambs to Gull,
May Heaven obstruct the Engines of their Scull;
Give them of Tyburn, Lord, their Belly full.

Hot-headed Youths have been seduc'd of late,
Beyond their Wits, talk of the Affairs of State;
Obedience learn to avoid Fitz-Harris Fate.

Those publick Libellers with Zeal and heat,
With some unheard of Novels dayly Treat;
If they write falsly, tie them from their Meat.

Tell th' Ambitious, they Fools strive in vain,
To undermine a Crown, King Charles will Reign:
To be true and honest, is the safest Gain.

I hope to see Justice at Tyburn done,
If so, some hundreds may have Cause to run;
Give them what they deserve, their Thread is spun.

Bid proud petitioners, good Advice approve,
Make an Address and in one Body move;
With all humility t' gain their Prince's Love.

I'de sooner lose a Limb, from th' Monument fly,
Endure the worst of Torments till I dye;
Then willingly deserve my Kings displeasing Eye.

[Page 54]

London, on thee all slourishing joys descend,

Heaven's bless the Government, and Governors to the end;

Unanimous to agree, your Soveraign to defend.

The Man that burnt Diana's Temple down,
Did it on purpose a Villain to be Crown'd;
Mongst Rogues (Damn'd Rogues) he got Renown.

How many thousands are there in the Nation,
Meer Knaves, but Saints, in private Congregation;
Loves Monarchy, with mental Reservation.

The Gods rebuke the Error of the Age,
Let moderation Tumultuous men asswage;
But hang all those against their King engage.

Let all dissenting Brothers Love the King.
To the Church Unite, 'tis a goodly thing;
With Brethren to agree, and with Te Deum sing.

Heaven's bless his Majesty, with Plenty, Joy and Peace.
To all that love the King Heavens give increase;
Confound his Foes to pray I nere will cease.

Non est Lex justior ulla

Quam Necis Artifficis, Arte perire sua.

[Page 55]

THE MEAL TUBB PLOT.

GOod Heraclitus lets have no quarrel,
Sing you of the Tap, i'll sing of the Barrel,
And neither laugh nor cry for the Lawrel.
Which no Body can deny.

A Fig for your Tap or your Cork. Do but bring here
A barrel of empty Reports, (Mr. Singer)
You shall see we can broach them with a wet Finger.
Which no body, &c.

I'll not meddle with Barrels of Ale and Bear,
For should they work again, we may fear
Too quick a return o'th' Platonick Tear.
Which no Body, &c.

A Pox of your Barrels full of French,
'Tis a sort of an ominous Bloody Drench,
And full of dispute as an Oyster Wench.
Which no Body, &c.

[Page 56]

Give me that Miraculous Lasting Joke,

O'th Barrel of Meal, that Blinded the Folk,

Fill'd every Mans Mouth and yet every Man spoke

Which no Body, &c.

It made more noise and was more hot,
Than all those Barrels I had forgot,
That had their heads in the Gunpowder-Plot,
Which no Body, &c.

Some say it was the very same.
Where Byter John the first of the Name,
Vented such store of Smoak and Flame,
Which no Body, &c.

I think indeed they hit the Nail,
For's Notes were found within the Meal,
Wherewith the Discoverer wip'd his Tayl.
Which no Body, &c.

Regulus (but for the spoiling the Leaven)
The Barrel full of Spikes had driven,
And rowl'd the Rogue downward to Heaven.
Which no Bedy can deny.

[Page 57]

A DIALOGUE Between the Ghosts of the two last Parliaments at their Interview Fuimur Troes Westminster Ghost's Advice.

FRom deepest Dungeon of Eternal Night,
The Seats of Horror, Sorrow, Pains and Spight,
I have been sent to tell your tender Youth
A Seasonable and Important Truth!
I feel, (but oh too late) that no Disease
Is like a Surfeit of Luxurious Ease;
And of all other the most tempting things
Are too much Wealth, and too Indulgent Kings.
None ever was Superlitively ill
But by Degrees with Industry and Skill
And some whose meaning hath at first been fair,
Grow Knaves by use, and Rebells by Despair;
My time is past, and yours will soon begin
Keep the first Blossoms from the blast of Sin,
And by the Fate of my Tumultuous ways
Preserve your self, and bring Serener days,
[Page 58]
The busy subtile Serpents of the Law
Did first my mind from Due obedience draw,
While I did limits to the King prescribe
And look for Oracles that canting Tribe,
I chang'd true Freedom for the name of Free
And grew Seditious for Variety;
All that oppos'd me were to be accus'd
And by the Law Illegally abus'd.
The Robe was summon'd M—d in the head,
In Legall Minder none so deeply read:
I brought him to the Barr where once he stood
Stain'd with the (yet unexpiated) Blood
Of the Brave Strafford when three Kingdoms rung
With his Accumulated Hackney Tongue:
Prisoners and Witnesses were waiting by:
These had been taught to Swear, and those to die
And to expect their Arbitrary Fates
Some for ill faces some for good Effates:
To fright the people, and alarm the Town,
Bedlo, and Oates Employ'd the Reverend Gown.
But while the Trebble Mitre bore the blame
The Nings Three Crowns were their Rebellious Aim.
I seem'd and did but seem to fear the Guards,
And took for mine the B—and the—W.—
Antimonarchick Hereticks of State,
Immortall Atheists, Rich and Reprobate:
But above all I got a little Guide
Who every Foard of Villany had try'd;
None knew so well the Old pernicious way
To Ruin Subjects, and make Rings obey,
[Page 59]
And my small Jehu at a furious Rate
VVas driving Eighty back to Fourty Eight,
This the King knew and was resolv'd to bear
But I mistook his patience for his fear:
All that this happy Island cou'd afford
VVas sacrific'd to my Voluptuous board.
In his whole Paradise one only Tree
He had Excepted by a strict Decree,
A Sacred Tree which Royall fruit did bear,
Yet it in pieces I conspir'd to tear,
Beware my Child! Divinity is there.
This so out did all I had done before
I cou'd attempt, and He Endure no more.
My unprepar'd and unrepenting Breath
VVas snatch'd away by the swift hand of Death,
And I with all my Sins about me hurld
Toth' utter Darkness of the Lower VVorld;
A Dreadfull place which you too soon will fee
If you believe Seducers, more then me.

[Page 60]

Nitimur in Vetitum Oxford Ghost.

HAil great prophetick spirit; who cou'd see
Through the dark glass of ripening time what we
Too true have found and now too late complain
That thou great Spirit shoud'st foretell in vain,
Full well and Faithfully did'st thou advise,
Had we been modestly and timely wise.
Free may you rang'e said'st thou through every Field
And what else more Luxurious Gardens yield
Is thine; what e're may please what e're delight
The weakest stomach nicest appetite;
Of all the plenty of so Vast a store
One thing forbidden is one, and no more,
By late and sad Experience of what's past
Probatum est ipse Dixit: Do not tast!
Swift Ruins there, and sure Destruction,
How great a Truth had it in time been known.

[Page 61]

WESTMINSTER GHOST.

VAin empty nothing that were lately all,
How just, and how unpitty'd is thy Fall!
Well worthy of the Horrours of this place
That wou'd no warning take by my disgrace;
Glutted with Plenty, surfeited with Peace,
Weary of Blessings, sick of to much ease,
Mad, restless Troublers of our Israel
Who wou'd not quiet be when things went well;
Of severel base designes, meer manag'd Tools,
Rash, unadvis'd, incorrigible Fools;
Brisk Hotspurs inconsideratly bold
By much too violent, and too hot to hold;
Zeal flew as if 't had been to run a Race,
Duty and reason cou'd not keep it's pace:
Insensible, Regardless of my Fate
Dull Phrygian Sages, wise when 'tis too late;
You liv'd and then you had an easy way
To have provided 'gainst the Evill day
Who wou'd not then be timely wise? forbear
Your vain unreasonable sorrows here;
Frailty (for men are frail) may err one time
But malice only can repeat the crime.
Unthinking Senate fed with empty words
Of Patriot Lawyers and protesting Lords:
Abus'd by popular and mistaken friends;
Serv'd a dull Property for base hidden ends
[Page 62]
Liberty, Property, Religion,
Sweet names and so is Reformation.
Rank sign of sickly and distemper'd times
When fairest names disguise the foulest crimes.
The cry of liberty helpeth Ambition,
And strait-lac'd Conscience quite choaks up Religion
Of publick Int'rest you had no concern;
But damn'd a Proverb, ne're too late to learn,
By no experience taught, miscarriage tam'd
Nor by sad Instance of my Fate reclaim'd.
What prejudice and private Ends ill us'd,
False zeal and like Religion ill excus'd:
Who (stiff neck'd) rather wou'd my Fate repeat
Than by new measures be securely great:
No freedom of debate was left for you
When all was mov'd and manag'd by a few.
Your leading M. J.—s and W—ton
As if all wisdom were in them alone:
A House of Commons crumbled into three,
Slaves in effect, and in appearance Free.
What ail'd the Pilot slept he at the head?
Or was your Judgment by your wills misled?
What evill spirits Influence did prevail
That you who might at large securely Sail
In sull Sea, and from all dangers free
Wou'd run upon that shelf that ruin'd me?
These sure and sad effects I well foresaw,
These reall ills which seeming good wou'd draw;
From these sad consequences to disswade
I was sent forth, and gladly I obey'd:
[Page 63]
I told you then what now too true I find,
Where zeal flys out, and duty leaves behind,
Tis wisdoms shame and Policies defect
For still like causes will have like Effect.
I sought by wondrous Truth the point to gain,
Urg'd many Reasons, but urg'd all in Vain:
None were of force against the Good Old Cause,
Counsell was thrown away, Fool that I was.
Where men with Law and Prophets wou'd not live
To think a message from the Dead shou'd thrive.
Spight of my foresight, and my dear bought Skill
Cassandra I, you faithless Pans are still.
Your boundless passion did no measures keep,
VVell might you break your Neck with such a leap:
Men may at Distance over about Kings
And by your Influence move Earthly things
But when those Bounds they wou'd Exceed, and fly
Too neer the Sun scorch'd they drop down, and dy,
What an Occasion lost you to improve
The Princes Favour and the Peoples Love?
This when considering Posterity
Shall think upon, they'l hate your Memory;
And as once antient Rome, they in their turn
With you had never dy'd, or ne're been Born;
Shou'd your Sucessors tread your steps, they then,
Tho they were Gods, like us, shall dye as men.
Oh! may the next, (for sure a next will be)
Avoid the Rock that ruin'd you and me:
Deeply affected with a just Concern
At your sad Fate self-preservation learn;
[Page 74]
And merit by avoiding needless fears
By moderat Councills, and praise worthy cares,
A Monarchs blessing, and Three Kingdoms Prayer.

Tom, Thins GhostIN dead of night when the pale Moon
Had got to th' Nocturnall Noon
Betwixt her Light, and what was lent
From twinkling Candle almost spent,
As I lay slumbering on my Bed
I saw methought a man was dead,
Gravely he stalk't and stood and star'd
While I lay trembling and was Scarr'd
Dumb for a while at last I broke
Silence and to the Phantosm spoke,
Art thou said I that man of Sin
Or Ghost of Thomas late Squire T.
He soon reply'd with Accents hollow
In words conform to these that follow.
From the Tartarean shades below
That neither Bounds nor bottom know
Where a new life, the Cursed gain,
Throw constant Torments, Endles pain,
I by permission come to tell
What Goverment there is in Hell,
[Page 65]
Because I know thou wert a Tory
To thee I chose t' impart my story,
For thou wil't Joyfully reveal
What, Whiggs that long for, Common-weal
Like Spartan Boyes, wou'd still conceal.
Attend then and my Narrative
Communicate to all alive,
I am the Soul of one of those
That both the K— and Law oppose
And Itch' with Conscientious Scurvey
To turn the Kingdom topsey Turvey,
Rogues that presume themselves appointed
To contradict the Lords Anointed,
Those that wou'd murder an Addressor
And cut the Legs of true Successor.
And make him look in piteous Case
As Withrington in Chivy Chase,
Nay cut his Throte and in his place
Set Perking up of Extract base,
Who has no more pretence to Rule
This Land, than any other Fool,
But may make out Il'e Swear as soon
A Title to the World ith' Moon,
I was I say of that Caball
Till I was murder'd in the Mall;
You've heard I know of that Barbarity
Hatefull beyond all Bonds of Charity.
Proceed we then with our Relation
Of Action in th' Infernal Nation,
[Page 66]
Assist me steed of Phaebus Legion
VVhilst I describe the dolefull Region,
One Monarch in that VVorld controuls
VVith flameing Scepter, tortur'd Souls,
And Captive, tho he be in Chains,
Yet absolute Emperour he Reigns.
No Factions there disturb the State
VVhich is preserv'd by steady fate,
Unalterable Laws they have
VVhich the Almighty God-head gave,
And to their Prince ev'n on his Foes
A strict Obedience does Impose.
That Prince is Lucifer, whose power
The Subject Ghosts adore Each hour,
VVho to advance their mighty King
In Blasphemies, his praises sing
Devoutly swearing there's no odds
Betwix this Grandeur and the Gods,
These tho' they suffer 'tis in Vain
Amid'st their Torments to complain,
If he but nod from burning Throne
There's not a Soul that dares to groan,
For Hell admitts of no Petition
To redress Grievance of condition,
Nor do Tumultuous Crowds appear
VVith bold Remonstrances of Fear,
Nor Spirit Murmer at oppression
Nor prate of right or wrong Succession,
Their King Immortall, Oh! 'mong you,
That Charles the Second were so too.
[Page 67]
I love him now, and tho' a Devil
Am much more honest grown and Civil,
For having ta'ne a Drachm of Styx
I have forgot my VVhiggish Tricks
Next to the Prince there are that stand
Awfully waiting his Command
Belzebub, Moloch, Ashteroth, Baal,
And Dagon, who before their fall
Tho' not condemn'd t' Eternall Night
VVhere Seraphins and sons of Light.
Those cursed Peers when e're he will
If he intends great woe or Ill
To sons of Earth he quickly can
Summon into his Dark divan,
Not to give Counsell, but to do
VVhat his Dire Dictates Prompts him to.
You have like him, one Noble Peer
VVho wou'd do mighty Service there
VVou'd he were there in stead of me
To shew his Squinting Policy.
He 'tis I mean that looks at once
Like Cerberus from tipple Sconce
But that his Eyes wou'd fascinate
And give a destiny to Fate;
For he I fear wou'd break the Law
By which this world is kept in awe,
Since it is here his chiefest Care
To break all Laws that Penall are,
He wou'd go nigh ev'n in this station
To make a new Association.
[Page 68]
But if he did, Oh! There are Judges,
In stead of Scarlet Cloth with Budges
Not such as these in which we trade
But Robes of Solid Darkness made,
They'd firk his Toby for take this
For fatal truth, (and so it is)
In the proceedings against furies
There are no Ignoramus Juries,
Plain Evidence is there believ'd
And no convicted Soul repriev'd.
No Mainprize there allow'd nor Bail
But doomn'd to an Eternal Jayl,
The restless Prisoners howl, and cry
Whilst they in burning Shackles fry,
Yet in my Conscience hee'd Endeavour
Eev'n to deceive the great Deceiver,
Or wou'd pretend to Court for Mistress
The fatallest oth' Fatal Sisters,
And wou'd so wheedle her that shee
Shou'd cut the thread of Monarchy,
So wou'd he his dear wish obtain
And put an end to Charles his Reign,
Nor wou'd he value his Damnation
To keep great James from Kingly Station,
Here upon Earth he has a Pug
Which he like Devil & Witch does hug,
For he ne're found his words were true in
Any one thing but his own Ruin,
He Whilom told the Yonker he
Shou'd sway the British Monarchy,
[Page 69]
Of a known Bastard grown a Prince
But poor deluded Perkin since,
From fancy'd Honour is degraded
And all his Flowerde-lysses faded.
But I degress from my Design
While things on Earth, and Hell I joyn,
Suffer me then to represent
The Methods of our Parliament.
VVhen Lucifer to utmost borders
Of Erebus sends out his Orders,
His Officers make no delay
But the great Summons soon obey,
Unanimously they all Elect,
Not such as say they will protect,
The Common Peoples Liberty
From their dread Soveraigns Tyranny,
For none his boundless Power Questions
Or make undutiful Suggestions.
But such they are as when th' assemble
Before his Footstool bow and tremble,
They come with steadfast Resolutions
To assert the fatal Constitutions,
Nor do they once Capitulate
Or grumble to maintain the State
All that they have to him they owe
Mammon besides is his they know,
There is no Sawcy well clad Clown
That claims the use of what's his own,
Nor can from Hellish mouth such sin come
As to deny him his own Income.
[Page 70]
There no Abhorror on their Knees,
Pay Topham's Arbitrary Fees.
Nor bawling Lawyers Speakers make
Which only with the Vulgar take.
But hark! I hear the Midnight Bell,
And that rings my Departing Knel.
What I have said pray con it or'e,
Next time we meet Ile tell thee more.

Sejanus, OR THE Popular Favourite

IS this thy Glory now? Is this thy Pride
Of sticking to the Saints and Godly side?
Religious Bugbear words that fright from hence,
From Subjects, all their Loyalty to Prince,
Make black Rebellion seem white Innocence.
Entitle Heaven to the Vilest Crimes,
Make Deity, like Rabble, blame the Times.
Mad Zealots! so Atheistically Civil,
Blsapheme the Gods to Complement the Devil.
[Page 71]
The mightiest of these inspir'd Saints is come,
To Crown himself with fancy'd Marterdom.
Geneva Whig that still crys out at Rome,
But raises still Domestick Broyls at home.
How quietly Great Charles might end his Reign
Which all in troubles the Dear Prince began,
Now vext by Ghost mere shadow of a Man.
The cunning Hypocrite that still can Spy
The smallest more in his kind Princes Eye,
By Zeal and Nature made so double blind,
That in his own the Beam he cannot find:
Some say but one vast Luminary stands,
In's furrow'd Brow, and watches all the Land.
But sunk into it's hole, crept out of sight,
As if it were afraid to see the Light.
His Scull's too narrow Circle can't contain,
His Towring thought and vast Gigantick Brain.
Blinded again with hopes of Reformation,
Poor little Polyphemus of the Nation.
That mighty Monster brav'd the rising Flood,
And this can wade throw a whole Sea of Blood.
How hath this wretched Isle been chang'd and curst
Since thou were't born in't, and it knew thee first.
How did its tributary Rivers pay
A bloudy dreadful Homage to the Sea!
Whilst on the purple Ocean thou didst ride,
And tack about with every Wind and Tide.
This floating Bark he now again would Steer,
Ah! treacherous Pilot! and false Mariner.
[Page 72]
The Kingdoms yet scarce mended Hulk to save,
Wou'd launch again into the Purple Wave.
Religious Bully that can cheat a Nation,
And make it perish working out Salvation.
Three Kingdoms he o're looks, and soon can Count,
The Tories all from Barwick to the Mount.
Sifts Cittys, Shires, to know what Each afford,
Calls this tantivy, that protesting Lord.
Sees what grave Noddle's for Caballing fit,
And who are Bromigems of Sence and Wit.
Old Ovids Muse from hence may take her flights,
Her Argus only had an hundred lights.
This little Monstrous Corps is Eye all o're,
And the whole Body sees at every pore.
Sees hatching thoughts meer Embrio of a Plot,
Nay sees it oft before it be begot:
If well corrected for his Insolence,
The little Spannil fawns upon his Prince.
But once escap'd the Ax, or fatal loops,
Straight to the dull anthinking Rable stoops,
Puft up with the vain blast of Vulgar Breath
The small State Urchins hurry to their Death,
So the kind Air with an officious blast
Tosses poor Bubbles to the Clouds at last,
Dances the little Globe about the Sky;
Then breaks the glittering Ball it fan'd so high,
So Romes fair darling once that govern'd all
With the Inconstant Rout did stand or fall:
Th' obliged Camp their General did Crown,
Then dragg'd his ragged Carcase throw the Town.
[Page 73]
Weak Tools! that think they may securely flee
On the loose Wings of wild Inconstancy,
Or on its Metaphor the Mobile.
Disgusted by the Rout this cunning wight
Runs cringing to his Injur'd Monarch straight,
Whose goodness is too ready to forgive
Faulty alone in suffering him to live.
Advanc'd to follow Mace, and wear a Gown
The Tony then saw Mutineers in Town,
But now they all True Protestants are grown.
Whilst he unto it's Chambers can resort
There's naught alas! of Popery at Court,
Clap the Prophetick Soul but in the Tower
It straight divines of Arbitrary Power,
Nor leaves the Rout, and then as soon as able
Leaves his good Prince just as he left the Rabble.
This busy Noddle of the Factious Crew
(The Badg of upstart Whigs must still be new)
With his green bob in his new Senate sits
And round him all those Livery Men of Wits,
Some raise a name, and some insert a Clause
Order their Bills themselves and Vote 'em Laws,
With awful care some Scriblers Penning be
A Speech for Sister Scotlands Liberty,
'Gainst Lotherdales unbounded Tyranny.
There a Young Scribe is coppying out a Cant
Next Morn for to be spoke in Parliament,
Upstarts an Hector, Swears upon a Book,
Gad you shall see we will Exclude the Duke,
[Page 74]
Then brings a Bill 'gainst Arbitrary Pow'r
And that will send a Member to the Tower,
One Votes him to be censured on his Knees,
This cries discharge, that let him pay his Fees,
And in the little Club you fairly see
Of the great Senate an Epitome.
Our sad Distracted Albion gaz'd around
She saw no Foe, but still she felt a wound,
The bleeding Dear thus trembling stands at bay,
But can't find where the close hid Archer lay.
As on the winding Banks, and watery Maze
Where fam'd Meander cuts her crooked ways,
The lost distracted Traveller doth gaze.
At last kind Fate or Providence doth bring
The poor Despairing Soul unto the Spring,
So some kind Angel, genius of this Isle
VVhere peace alass! with thee cou'd never smile,
Hath taught us now to make her flourish still
Shew'n us the hidden source of all her Ill,
Reason the Plummet, with the Line shall be
Both stretch'd to Fathom, and to measure thee,
Lead throw the Labyrinth of all thy tricks
All the wild Mazes of thy Politicks.

[Page 75]

THE Whig Caball.

TH' sullen night worn threadbare when I lay
Expecting the Approach of Early Day:
Such Loyal thoughts did in my Bosom rage.
As drew my Curses on this Factious Age:
With tears I mourn'd our sinking Countrys Fate,
And shadow'd glory of the Royal State.
Till slumbering at the last a glimmering Light,
Methought was shown to my Mysterious Sight.
When I descry'd a Treasonous damn'd Caball,
Hells mounting Engines that wou'd sink us all,
And rise upon our King and Countrys fall.
Dark were their Looks and knowingly I saw
Villains they were and such as fled the Law:
Printers, and those who had abus'd the times,
Religion was their Cloak to hide their Crimes,
Envious as Eiends, like Hells Divan they sate,
What wou'd Hell more? to ruin Church and State.
So vile as these it never cou'd appear,
Had the great Whigland Lucifer been there.
When in an abrupt Voice I heard one Cry,
Rome's Idoll York shan't gorge our Liberty.
[Page 76]
Rowz up my friends, our Ruin's more then fear'd
Their Bulls do roar so lowd we can't be heard.
With that he paus'd—then said with much Distress,
What shall we do? the Tyde of our Success
Now seems to Ebb, nor can we hope for less.
For even those will now believe no more
Our shams who judg'd them Miracles before.
Interest's our hook, and Freedom is the Bait,
Bondage but nam'd, you'l see Rebellion Straight.
Each weak pretence deceives the Easy Crowd,
With them 'tis Law what is by us allow'd,
But shallow are our Plots to searching Eyes,
They see what Mischeifs at the Bottom Lyes.
Our Sh'riffs and Juryes for their ends applause,
With Ignormaus Riots prop our Cause,
They doubt of peace from those that break the Laws.
There our Designes are Desp'rat and so crost,
Bold the Attempt must be to gain what's lost.
Zealous Rebellion must secure us all,
We cannot fail while we pretend a Call.
With that like Fiends they Vanish'd, and I woke,
Whilst all amaz'd and troubled thus I spoke.

O wretched Land! how prov'd thy cureing vain?
Sign thy old wound is breaking out again.
The whole's Endanger'd by th' Infected part,
But Heav'n instruct our great Physitians Art.
Theres one way left to heal this desp'rat Wound,
Out off the Rotten for to save the Sound.
[Page 77]
Were there no Cause for this now needful blow,
Religious peace then throwgh the Land wou'd Flow
So Jehu Sion purg'd, and faith did grow.
But let's unite with pious Joy to sing,
Health to the best—to Englands gracious King.
Blest may he bee, his Queen and Royall Bed,
And bless great James whilst all their Foes ly Dead
So we at last shall bruise the Serpents Head.

THE Presbyterian Club,

AS 'tother day Dick, Harry, Tom, and I,
At th' Tavern sate in wine and mirth rais'd high
As round the Boord the Chearful Brimmer went,
And Charles his health was drunk with one Consent
The Duke of Tork's by Birthright next Ensu'd,
Confusion to all those who wou'd Exclude.
Thus went the Claret round till up the stairs,
The Drawer came laden with Stools and Chairs.
His Burthen thrice he did renew when I
(To satisfy my Curiosity,
Asking the Reason of his Task,) was told
The Saints to night a Canventicle hold
[Page 78]
The Room was large, well stor'd with Chairs & Stools,
Pitty 'twas to be fill'd anon with Fools,
We Torys big with Expectation wait
As well to see 'em as to hear 'em prate,
When usher'd up in long procession came
Baxter with many more too long to name;
Their looks, their dress, was such you wou'd have thought
They really had practis'd what they taught,
VVith starch lawn Band, and hats right gravely set
Had you but seen 'em, you had thought they'd met
There to set up a thorow Reformation
VVhen 'twas it seems only for Recreation,
Now round the Table all in Order sate
Baxter at th' upper end as chief in State,
For Pride is to th' Elect as natural
As to the Devil 'twas before his fall,
Mean while the Brethren drink till warm with wine
They all to Treasonable talk encline,
And in each glass the Kings Destruction vow
The King nere more their Enemy than now.
Thus still the Zealous glass went round, whom one
VVith lift up hands and gogling Eyes begun,
I thought him by his Bawling Farringdon.
Half drunk to make a Godly speech, and cry
Oh Lord!
When will thou put an end to Tyranny?
When wilt thou free us from our Tyrants hands
And settle on us all the Bishops Lands?
[Page 79]
For tho Lawn Sleeves and Gowns are an offence
We with the Churches Livings cou'd dispence,
Nay verily I think I cou'd submit
To any thing, but Popery, to get,
The Diocess of Winchester I say,
I wou'd the Churches liveing were our prey,
Nay I pray dayly God wou'd make 'em so
For I have little else with Prayer to do,
And tho the K. (good Man) be vainly lead
Ith' crooked path of Wickedness to tread,
'Tis Charity to wish the Tyrant Dead.
Wou'd he were mounting, nay I wish he were
Already crown'd in his Triumphant Chair,
That he from thence might see us act below
Deeds that our once Lov'd Cromwell shall outdo,
Such deeds as even his Ghost shall fear to see
While Satan trembles at our Tyranny,
Least coming thither we their Peace destroy
And with intestin VVars his Relms annoy,
Least we by force shou'd their old Laws repeal
And spight of Empire for a Common-weal,
Thus spake the Reverend Pimp with sober hum
They as amazement had 'em all struct dumb,
Did silently applaud the speech, whilst he
As in Arrears did swallow Brimmers three.

And now the hour of ten drew nigh, 'twas time
To part, least staying prove a Godly crime,
Then being drunk, for all of 'em were so,
B—r himself cou'd not uprightly go,
[Page 80]
Tho' he had much the odds of all the rest
Who in's sheeps Cloathing fed a greedy Beast,
Making the Scripture Prophecy prove good
Which ne're till now was rightly understood.

Thus they, (and time it was) the house Depart
For I their Absence wish'd with all my heart,
Thus do the Saints solace themselves, and thus
They act those Crimes which they abhor in us.

THE True Presbyterian Without Disguise

A Presbyter is such a Monstrous thing
That Loves Democrasy and hates a King,
For Royal Issue never making Prayers
Since Kingdoms as he thinks shou'd have no Heirs,
But stand Elective, that the holy Crew
May (when their Zeal transports them) chuse a new,

And is so strongly grounded in belief
That Antichrist his coming will be brief,
[Page 81]
As he dares swear (if he dares swear at all)
The Quakers are ordain'd to make him fall,
From whence he grows impatient, and he says
The wisest Counsels are but fond Delays,
To hold him lingring in deluded hope,
Else long e're this he had subdu'd the Pope.
A Presbyter is he whose heart doth hate
The Man (how good so e're) advance'd in State,
And finding his Disease a Leprosy
Doth Judg that all in Courts Gehesi's be;
Whist he himself in Bribery is lost
And lyes for gain unto the holy Ghost,
When tho' in shew he seems a grave Tobias
He is within a very Ananias,
The lay-prophane name (Lord) he hates, and says
It is th' approaching sign of the last days,
For Church-men to be stiled so, nay more,
'Tis Usher to the Babylonian Whore,
The Bishops Habits with the Tip and Rochets
Beget in him such fancies and such Crochets,
That he believes it is a thing as Evil
To look on them as to behold the Devil,
And for the Government Episcopal
That he condemns to be the worst of all,
Because the primest times did suffer no man
To' exalt himself, for all was held in Common,
Yet 'tis most strange when he is most Zeal-sick
Nothing can cure him but a Bishoprick,
Where once Invested proves without all scope
Insulting boundless more than any Pope,
[Page 82]
A Presbyter is he that's never known
To think on others good besides his own,
And all his Doctrine is of hope and Faith,
For Charity, 'tis Popery he saith:
And is not only silent in good works,
But in his practice too Resembles Turks.
The Churches Ornaments, the Ring of Bells
(Can he get Power) 'tis ten to one he sells,
For his well tuned Ears cannot abide
A Jangling noise, but when his Neighbours chide
A Presbyter is he that never Prays
But all the World must hear him what he says;
And in that fashion too, that all may see
He is an open Modern Pharisee.
The Name of Sabbath still he keeps, 'tis true,
But so he is less Christian more a Jew,
Nor settled form of Prayer his Zeal will keep
But Preacheth all his purer Flock asleep,
To study what to say, were for to doubt
Of a presumed Grace to hold him out.
And to be learn'd is too too human thought,
Th' Apostles all he says were men untaught,
And thus he proves it for the best to be
A simple Teacher of Divinity.
The Reverence which Ceremony brings
Into the Sacred Church his Conscience stings,
Which is so void of Grace and so ill bent,
That kneel he will not at the Sacrament,
But sits more like a Judg then like a Sinner,
And takes it just as he recieves his Dinner.
[Page 83]
Thus do his saucy postures speak his Sin,
For as without such is his heart within.
A Presbyter is he who doth defame
Those Reverend Ancestors from whence he came,
And like a graceless Child above all other
Denies Respect unto the Church his Mother,
His Chosen Protestants he scorns, as men
Not sav'd, because they are not Brethren,
And lest his Doctrine shou'd be counted new,
He wears an ancient Beard to make it true.
A Presbyter is he who thinks his Place
At every Table is to say the Grace,
When the good Man or when his Child hath paid
And thanks to God for King and Realm hath said,
He then starts up and thinks himself a Debtor
Till he doth cry (I pray you thank God better,)
When long he prays for every living thing
But for the Catholick Church, and for the King.
A Presbyter is he wou'd wondrous fain
Be call'd Disciple by the holy Train,
Which to be worthy of, hee'l stray and Err
Ten Miles to hear a silenc'd Minister:
He loves a Vesper Sermon, hates a Mattin,
And he detests the Fathers nam'd in Latin,
And as he Fryday, Sunday makes in Dyet,
Because the King and Canons do deny it,
The self same nature makes him to repair
To week day Lectures, more then Sunday Prayer,
And as the Man must needs in all things Err
He starves his Parson, crams his Lecturer,
[Page 84]
A Presbyter is he whose heart is bent
To cross the Kings designs in Parliament.
Where whilst the place of Burgess he doth bear,
He thinks he owes but small Allegiance there,
But stands at Distance at some higher thing,
Like a Lycurgus, or a kind of King.
Then as in Errant times bold Knights were wont
To seek out Monsters, and Adventures hunt,
So with his Wit and Valour he doth try,
How the Prerogative he may defy.
Thus he attempts and first he fain wou'd know,
If that the Soveraign Power be new, or no:
Or if it were not fitter Kings should be
Confin'd unto a limitted Degree.
And for his part like a Plebeian state,
Where th' poor Mechanicks freely may debate
All matters at their pleasure, not confin'd
To this, or that, but as they cause do find;
When tho' that every Voice against him go,
Hee'l slay the Gyant with his Single, No.
He in his Heart, tho' at a poor Expence,
Abhors a gift that's call'd Benevolence.
For as his Mind, so is his Bounty bent,
And still unto the King Malevolent.
He is the Statesman, just enough, precise,
The nearest Government to Scandalize.
Nor like a Drunkard when he doth Expose
In secret underneath the silent Rose,
To use his Freedom when the pot might bear,
The saults which closely he commited there.
[Page 85]
But, Shimei like, to all the Men he meets,
He spews his Frantick Venom in the streets:
And tho' he sayes the spirit moves him to it,
The Devil is that Spirit made him do it.
A Presbyter is he (els there is none,)
That thinks the King will change Religion.
His doubtful thought like to the Moon blind Eyes,
Makes the Beast start at every shape he Spyes.
And what his fond mistaken fancy Breed,
He does believe as firmly as the Creed.
From whence he doth proclaim a fast to all,
That he allows to be Canonicall,
And then he Consecrates a Secret Room,
Where none but the Elected Sisters come.
When being met doth Treason boldly Teach,
And will not Fast and Pray, but Fast and Preach:
Then strains a Text whereon he may Relate,
The Churches Danger, Discontent of State,
And hold them there so long in fear & doubt
That some do think 'tis Danger to go out.
Beleiving if they hear the Cieling Crack,
The Bishops are behind them at their Back.
And so they sit bewaling one another,
Each groaning Sister howling to her Brother.
A Presbyter is he has womens Fears,
And yet will set the whole world by th' Ears:
Hee'l rail in publick if the King deny
To let the Quarrell of the Spaniard die.
He storms to hear in France the VVars shou'd cease
And that by Treaty there should be a peace.
[Page 86]
For sure saith he the Church doth Honour want,
VVhen 'tis not truly called Militant,
And in plain truth as far as I can find,
He bears the self same Treasonable Mind
As does the Jesuit, for tho' they be
Tongue Enemies, in shew their Hearts agree.
And both professed foes alike consent,
Both to betray th' Anointed Innocent.
For tho their Manners differ, yet they aim,
That either may the King or Kingdom maim.
The difference is this way understood,
One in Sedition, 'tother deals in Blood.
Their Characters abridg'd if you will have,
Each seems a Saint, yet either proves a Knave.

[Page 87]

THE DISSENTER.

VVHat! shall a gorious Nation be o're thrown
By Troops of sneaking Rascals of our own?
Must Civil and Ecclesiastick Laws,
Once truckle more under the Good old Cause?
Shall these ungrateful Varlets think to Live,
Only to clip Royal Prerogative?
Shall all our Blood turn whey whilst we do see,
Men both affront, and stab the Manarchy?
I'm all inflam'd with a poetick Rage,
And will chastise the follies of the Age.
Thoughts crow'd so fast upon me I must Write,
Till I've display'd the gaudy Hypocrite.
He's one that scarcely can be call'd a Man,
And yet's a pious holy Christian.
He's big with saving Faith (he says) yet, He
Has Not one spark of Common Charity.
'Gainst Reason he perpetually VVhines,
Because it contradicts his black Designs.
He disesteems dull Morals, for a Saint,
My well belov'd Brethren must not want
[Page 88]
Soul warming thoughts; so warm that they did dwell,
First in the Womb, then in the Breasts of Hell.
He flouts the Common Prayer, yet the poor Fool,
Himself, not them, does turn to ridicule,
He hates a Form, yet loves his dear Nonsence;
Nauseats his God with his Impertinence.
With Eyes turn'd up, Mouth screw'd, and Monkey Face
He loudly Bawls to God for saving Grace.
With Meen so base and scurvy as if even
His Apish postures only wou'd please Heaven.
And then his snivelling tone to the most High,
He does conclude his Curious Melody.
If things succeed not as his Humour Wou'd,
He strai't grows angry, and he huffs his God:
And this (as if God knew not what to do)
And that wou'd have been for thy Glory too.
Then musled in his Cloak Roger begins
In's Sermon to dawb forth Soul killing Sins.
Murder, and theft, and pride, and Gluttony, &c.
Which in their Lives none more Applauds then He,
Yet if you do survey the List with Care,
You'l quickly find Rebellon is hid there.
And when hee's prest to Dutys for some Hours,
He ne're puts in? Obey the Higher Powers,
At Surplice and Lawn sleeves he takes offence,
Because they are the Types of Innocence,
For that he hates, and with it Men of Sense,
[Page 89]
The Reverend Prelate he still Villifies,
'Cause they detect his cursed Villanies.
Hand them they Bark, come let us pull them down
For this same Mitre does support the Crown.
They'r the Kings truest friends, yet thought it good
To drown his Kingdom in a Sea of Blood.
They the Kings Person wou'd protect they said,
Yes, yes, forsooth, by Cutting off his Head.
And this they did, inspir'd by Zeal alone,
To fasten Christ in his Triumphant Throne.
As if Damn'd Lyes, false Oathes, and Base Deceit,
Propt up his Throne and made him truly Great.
As if the Devil himself that acted them,
Did bring the Lustre to his Diadem.
Nay they go on yet with the same Intents,
By Molding to their Minds new Parliaments,
Some of the Great they by their whimseys guide
To like their Treason, and to 'steem their Pride.
In other things like Methods they pursue,
For ev'n the Sh'riffs must be Fanaticks too.
The Judges too they'd to their Party gain,
Did they want either Honesty or Brain.
And when their wheedling Tricks do fail on these
They poison soon some Country Justices.
Then had they once the dear Militia,
They'd mount the Saddle, and make Charles obey.
Thus first they'd make him but a very Straw,
And then at last Controul and give him Law.
In fine they are the foes of Royal State,
Order is the great Object of their Hate.
[Page 90]
Nor God nor Men these Furies seek to please,
They'd bruise the Crown, and Tear our Surplices.
They'd undermine the Churches Harmony,
And ride a full Career to Popery.
They all Mankind, except themselves, Despise,
Chiefly the great for being Good and Wise.
Some Subtile have, and some have Giddy Souls,
Some Fools, some Knaves, and some are Knaves and Fools.
These Vermin wou'd ev'n the best things Command
And suck up all the Sweetness of the Land.

THE Sollicitous Citizen

COntinuall Hubbub, and the noise of PLOT,
Idle suspicions of he knows not what,
The Pope, the Devil, and the French three years,
Have Citt enslav'd to Jealousies and Fears,
Nor any prospect yet of Peace appears.
Bandy'd about 'twixt Credit and Despair,
Who's safe (he crys) while such Designs there are?
And what is more peplexing can't tell where.
No, tho' of late he to his side have got
TITƲS, that Devil at cold scent of PLOT.
[Page 91]
But the poor Cur at Oxford lost his fame,
Where he Ran Counter to's eternal shame;
There the base Man Disloyal and Unjust
A Second time prov'd Traytor to his Trust,
In vain from him Discoveries you hope,
Till he the whole confesses in a Rope.
But this to Citt no satisfaction gives,
He's still uneasie, and in Fear he lives,
Cryes there are others who can find out Plots,
(And make perhaps) as well as Dr. Oates;
Says wiser Heads than his the City Rule
(Or else I'd said each Citt had been a Fool)
Say what you will we will secure our Home,
Be all in Readyness at Beat of Drum,
Who knows how soon the K. of France may come?
The Guards each night, you'd split to see the Farce,
(Like Rattle Snakes, with Bandaliers at A—
Ty'd to long Swords, and drest in Greasy Buff,
Majestick Porters) through the City Huff;
While Leader, Fore-horse like, the Pageant makes
With formal strut, and gaudy Tossell shakes.
In this brave Pomp they walk to Rendezvouze,
And there from Nine to Six securely bouze,
In damn'd Mundungus, and as nasty Nantz,
They Curse the Pope and Huff the K. of France.
Does but poor VVhore about their Quarters budge,
Whom unkind Stars do force till Ten to Trudge,
Strait brustling Myrmidon cries, who comes there?
Stand or I'le Fire; or stir a foot that dare.
[Page 92]
Raises the Guards; (for such Alarms are Common
Two hundred Men to seize on one poor Woman)
Why here so late (cryes Leader) on what score,
What are you, I'm a Woman, you're a Whore,
And fellow Buff-Coats, a suspicious one,
For ought I know, the VVhore of Babylon,
As you say, Captain it may be Pope Joan.
Such Fears as these our Mighty Dons of War
Perform to shew the VVorld how much they dare,
But here dull Cit is out in's Policy
VVhile he on VVoman doth his Manhood try,
Credulous Ass! there's no more gross mistake
Citizens Wives Beasts of their Husbands make,
Believe me Cit thoud'st better far Neglect
The Plots abroad, and those at home Inspect
Thou need'st not fear the Jesuits, but the Leagues
Of VVife with Courtier, Islington Intreagues.
VVas it well known to each contented Sot
VVhat don at home, how Jacky was begot,
Hee'd be more jealous of his VVife then th' Plot
But of all Pates, Cit has the softest one,
The better (crys the VVife) to graft upon,
But he by such dam'd dullness is undon.
VVhile on him Every Rascal puts a trick,
Care, Curtis, Baldwin, and Seditious Dick,
Such Rogues as these do still suspicions give,
And make new Plots that no man can believe,
One makes him hope, another makes him fear
Just like four Masty Dogs upon one Bear,
[Page 93]
VVho knows not which the true or false to call,
But honestly, dull Soul, believes them all,
These are the Knaves who make the Cits suspect
Their Prince that he their safety does neglect,
VVhose only care, (Heaven knows) is to protect.
These are the Villains who our Jarrs encrease,
Nor till they're hang'd can we e're hope for Peace,
Each Cobler's Statesman-grown, and the bold Rabble
Convert each Ale-house-board to Council Table,
One Censures this, another blames that fashion,
And thus they settle the Affairs oth' Nation,
On Votes and Councils are their Judgments past,
And in what form they please Affairs they cast,
Thus Colledg did, but he was hang'd at last.

[Page 94]

Iter Boreale.

AFter long practis'd Malice in the South,
Brutus (the Peoples Ear, the Peoples Mouth)
At length most prudently has Sally'd forth,
And cautiously retir'd to his North.
His Poyson he has left behind in London,
By whose Infection Whigland's Chiefs are undon.
Charter lies bleeding, Ecchoing Orphans crys
Reach Heaven, whilst the guilty Causer flies.
Whole Corporation suffers for Believing
Sneaksby who but one Garret had to live in.
Yet had he had his Arbitrary Swing
Wou'd all our Nobles to his Nine-pence bring.
Wou'd curtail Monarchs and by grand Debate
Reduce Great Britain to an Hamburg-State,
(For Eighty Two shou'd be as Forty Eight.)
But since great Ends by Providence are cross'd,
And Jesuit-Whig Designs in Blanket's toss'd,
Since Jurors must no longer be forsworn,
Nor private Sence 'gainst Solemn Oath Suborn,
Since Oats Deposals are Immortaliz'd,
And Elliot still remains Uncircumcis'd;
Since Loyalty must take and All are for't,
Since Pomfret Eloquence won't take at Court,
[Page 95]
Since Ryots for the Publick-Weal can't be
Secure without Invading Royalty;
And Legal Bearings up against the Power,
In Peoples Right, force Demagogues to th' Tower.
Since all the Juice of Tony's Tap's quite spent,
Which suckled long both good old Cause and Trent,
(For some who this way look are that way bent)
Since Bacon's Brazen Head fix'd on his Shoulders,
TIME WAS—
Can only say to Property Upholders.
Since Legal Monarchy must rule the Rost,
And care determin'd is to keep his post,
Since Envy, Hatred, Malice do small feats,
Party detected in all holy Cheats:
Thousands of Guineys can't have Influence
On him who hath of Loyalty due sence,
Since neither Wapping Treats, nor VVhigshead Clubs
Assert the Right of Perkin or the Tubs,
Since truth, and only truth must now prevail,
Maugre St. Tony's Tap or Stephens Flail,
And Brutus lately Londons Demagogue
No Office has but where Men Disembogue,
'Tis time, high time to quit that hated place
VVhere nought but Loyal must, dare shew its face,
So Fiends Associate VVizards still forsake,
Cajoll'd with hopes untill they come to stake,
Thus inmate Rats who first espy the flaw
In Ruinous Buildings prudently widraw,
Neswells VVhig Babells sall, & parting seems to say,
Perish ye with your Cause so I be out oth'way.

[Page 96]

THE MAD-MENS HOSPITAL, OR Presbyterian Itch.

I.OH happy Soil, unhappily possess'd,
Your Natives now invade your Sacred peace,
And that Religion we all profess'd,
Must now by Exterpation succease:
Our Laws are broken, Birthrights ta'en away,
Banish'd or Murder'd Innocents betray.

II.This Hell bred Change hath Reformation brought,
By bold Interpritation of Text:
VVhat was believ'd, and our Forefathers taught.
By new dark Lanthorn Lights is now perplext.
New Government's set up, the Rabble see
A way to Rule the Church and Monarchy.

III.Oh treble damn'd! Rebbles to God and King,
Who first put Arms into the Round-Heads hands,
Taught them to know their Brutish strength, who bring
A right of Levelling to all Mens Lands.
[Page 97]
Like Hounds unhunted left to their own Chase,
Seize all that cross their way, Noble or Base.

VI.They love the King as School boys Masters love,
Let them do what they will; How good a Man;
Correct them he's a Tyrant, none above,
If they admit, then Govern them that can.
Break up the School, A Common-Wealth their Cry's,
Learning hath Foold the World, and taught us Lyes.

V.Thus in this wilfull, and presuming Age,
Where Reasons Blinded with Opinion,
For currant Truth upheld by th' Peoples Rage.
They Spurn at Truth, and true Religion.
Those Beast like Rights, which greater Beasts per­swade,
Are the false Opticks of their Cheating Trade.

VI.Poor Country Men! the whole worlds hate or scorn
Led by a creeping Will ih' Wisp's false Fire,
Like him to Malice and to Mischiefs born,
Leads you to perish in a poyson'd Mire.
Pride made a Devil, what is't made thee so?
Malice: So coupled both together go.

VII.But tell me yet Madmen have Intervalls,
What end do you propose? suppose your Plot,
Shou'd take effect that Pallaces and Halls,
The King, the Duke, Lords, Papists and who not
[Page 98]
Shou'd in one Ruin fall what wou'd Succeed?
Cutting of Throats make one another Bleed!

VIII.For the great King will not descend to reign,
You (in his Members) Crucify him here,
In time compleat when he will come again,
'Twill be to your Confusion, and Fear:
Order Supports the World, nothing can stand
VVithout it; Beasts have Order and Command:

IX.These very Sects who now together joyn,
Will then divide, and each their Claim advance.
This is the Truth I hold, that Lordship's Mine,
'Tis false, 'tis not, 'tis for the K. of France,
For when that one anothers Blood we draw,
'Tis time a third shou'd come to give us Law.

[Page 99]

STATE CASES PUT TO Iack Presbyter.

JAck if you have one Grain of Sence,
That's free from pride and Impudence,
Say something in your own Defence.
But Lye not.
VVhy dost thou make our Blood recoil,
VVith noise of Plots and Popish Guile,
VVhile you're the Traytor all the while.
And Bygot?
VVhy dost thou brood upon the Plot,
To hatch the Mischiefs Room cou'd not,
And play th'old Game? but we have caught
Ye Napping.
VVhy did the little Dorset Eel,
To make the Brain sick Crowd Rebel,
Sad storys in the City tell,
And Wapping?
What did the western progress mean,
When a fine Duke did march between,
L. Gray and Tommy to be seen.
Oth' Women?
[Page 100]
How Country Protestants did run,
To Gaze upon a Royall Son
God bless him or wee're quite undone
For Freemen.
What meant Ben: Harri's Appeal
So full of Loyalty and Zeal,
VVas it not written for to heal
Our Breaches?
VVhy did the Commons house Address
And move the King that hee'd Release
The Villain from the Marshalseas:
And Gratis?
And prethe Jack did'st never hear
The famous Speech of Noble Peer
Stuft with true protestants, and bare
Fac'd Treason?
VVhy were so many Thousands Spread
That every post Town packets had,
VVithout one penny for 'em paid,
Th' Reason?
Why did the perjur'd Jury Save
The little Elephantine Knave,
And on the Bills back side Engrave,
Ignoramus?
Jurys are now a Town Tropan,
A Tory Trap they know their Man
This Jack we plainly say, nor can
You Blame us.
[Page 101]
Why did you stickle Tooth and Nayl
The penall Statutes to repeal
When you your selves wou'd never deal
Such Measure?
But did inhumanly impose
On all you Judg'd Dissenting Foes,
Heavy Mulcts and heavier Blows,
At Pleasure.
Why did the Knights and Burgers Vote
No Man shou'd lend the King a Groat
Tho' good Security were brought
And Royal?
But oh! that Brittain's Majesty
Is never to be trusted, why,
Confounded Jack, was that said? I
Defyall.
VVhy do you suffer Janeway
And Curtis factious Lyes to say
And Hireling Care the Devills Ama—
Nuensis.
VVhy doth the Packet of Advice
And protestant true Mercuries
Scare Folks with weekly Forgeries
To Frenzies?
And yet you Easily can spy
In Rogers works state Heresy
And Popery and all in He—
Raclitus
[Page 102]
Jack if you will these Scruples weigh,
And any thing in answer say,
To Query once again it may
Invite us

THE Geneva Litany,

FRom the Tap in the Guts of the Honourable Stump,
From which runs Rebellion, that stinks like the Rump,
On purpose to leaven the Factious Lump,
Libera nos Domine.
From him that aspires as high as the Crown,
And vows to pull Copes and Cathedrals down,
Fit only to govern the World in the Moon,
Libera nos.
From the Prick-ear'd Levite, that can without pain
Swear black into white, then deny it again;
Whose Name did design him a Villain in Grain,
Libera nos.
[Page 103]
From his Black-Bills, and Pilgrims with Sticks in their hands
That came to make up a Religions Band,
Then Ravish our Wives, and Inhabit our Land,
Libera nos.
From the Mouth of the City, that never gives o'r
To complain of Oppressions unheard-of before,
And yet for his Letchery will not quit score,
Libera nos.
From the Cent per Cent Scriv'ner, and every Statetrick;
That rails at Intemp'rance, who yet will not stick
To clear a young Spend thrift's Estate at a lick,
Libera nos.
From the Force and the Fire of the Insolent Rabble,
That wou'd hurl the Government into a Babel,
And from the nice Fare of the Mouse-starver's Table,
Libera nos.
From the Elder in New-street, that does Goggle and Cant,
Then turns up his Whites, to nose it, and pant,
And at the same time plays Devil and Saint,
Libera nos.
From Jenkin's Homilies drawn through the Nose,
From Langley, Dick, Baldwin, and all such as those,
And from Brawny Settles his Poem in Prose,
Libera nos.
[Page 104]
From a Surfeit occasion'd by Protestant Feasts,
From Sedition for Sawce, and Republicks for Guests,
With Treason for Grace-Cup, and Faction the rest,
Libera nos.
From the Conscience of Cits, resembling their Dames,
That in Publick are Nice, but in private so Tame,
That they'l not stick out for a Touch of that Same,
Libera nos.
From the blind Zeal of all Democratical Tools,
From Whigland, and all its Anarchical Rules,
Devised by Knaves, and Imposed on Fools,
Libera nos.
From the late Times Reviv'd, when Religion was gain,
And Church-Plate was seiz'd for Reliques Prophane,
Since practic'd by Searching Sir William again,
Libera nos.
From such Reformation where Zealots begun,
To preach Heaven must by firm Bulwarks be won,
And Te Deum sung from the mouth of a Gun,
Libera nos.
From Parliamentarians, that out of their Love
And Care for His Majesty's Safety, wou'd prove
The securest way were His Guards to remove,
Libera nos.
From Sawcy PETITIONS, that serve to inflame us,
From all who for ASSOCIATION are famous,
From the Devil, the Doctor, and the Damn'd IGNORAMUS.
Libera nos.

[Page 105]

THE Norwich Litany.

DEfend us from all Popish Plots,
That so the People Pray;
And eke also from Treacherous Scots
As bad or worse then they.

From Parliaments long Rumps and Tails
From House of Commons Furies
Defend us eke from Protestant Flayls
And Ignoramus Jurys.

Protect us now and evermore
From a white sheet and Proctor.
And from that noble Peer brought or'e
The Salamanca Doctor.

A Doctor with a witness sure
Both in his rise and fall,
His Exit almost as Obscure
As his Original.

[Page 106]

Designs and Dangers far Remove

From this Distressed Nation,

And damn the Trayterous model of

The new Association.

And may the prick Ear'd party that
Have coyn Enough to Cupboard,
Forbear to shiver an Estate,
And splinters mount for Hobart.

From Sixteen self conceited Peers
Protect our Soveraign still,
And from the damn'd Petitioners
For the Exclusive Bill.

Guard Heav'n great Charles and his Estate
'Gainst Tony upon Tony,
And from a House of Commons that
Will give the King no Money.

From those that did Design and Laugh
At Tangier in Distress
And were Mahometans worse by half
Then all the Moors at Fez.

From such as with Usurping hand
Drive Princes to Extreams;
Confound all their Devices, and
Deliver Charles and James.

[Page 107]

But may the Beauteous youth come home,

And do the thing that's fit,

Or I must tell that Absolom

He has more Hair then Wit.

May he be wise, and soon Expel
Th' old Fox th' old fawning Elf;
The time draws nigh Achitophel
Will make away himself.

This Jury I've impanell'd here
Of honest Lines and true
Whom you'l I doubt at Westminster
Find Ignoramus too.

[Page 108]

THE Loyall Litany.

FRom a new Modell'd Jesuit in a Scotch Bonnet,
With a Mass undersleeve, and a Covenant on it,
From Irish Sedition blown out of French Sonnet,
Libera nos Domine.
From conspiring at Joes and Cabballing at Mews,
From Sir Guts holy Tub of uncircumcis'd Jews
From Gibbet, and Halter which will be their Dues,
Libera nos.
From a Parliament Man rak'd out of the Embers,
From Knights that haunt Counters. and Lunatick Members,
From Presbyters Januarys, and Papists Novembers,
Libera nos.
From hugging a Witch and consulting the Devil,
From Welch Repermates which are somthing uncivil,
From the Touch of a Scot to cure the Kings Evil,
Libera nos.
From the Mutinous Clamours of such as raise Fears,
From those that wou'd set us together by the Ears,
Who still for the shipwrack of Monarchy stears,
Libera nos.
[Page 109]
From Rebellion wrapt up in an humble petition,
From the crafty Intrigues of an old Politician,
From a Geneva Divine, and a Staffords Physitian,
Libera nos.
From serving great Charles as his Father before,
Disinheriting York without why or wherefore,
And from such as Absaloms folly adore,
Libera nos.
From Denying the King that which is his Right,
From Cashiering of Members for faults very Light,
From the Troublesom Searches of a Monyless Knight,
Libera nos.
From Libelling the Government, and Actions of Kings,
From Vindicating Sectaries in Illegal things,
From encouraging Faction which Rebellion brings,
Libera nos.
From murmuring for sending the Parliament home,
From choosing Fanaticks to sit in their Room,
That the Actions of Forty may not be out-don,
Libera nos.
From Irish Massacres by Papists don,
From Seditious Cut Throats which thing is all one,
From murthering the Father, and banishing the son,
Libera nos.
From shrouding all Villanies under the Cause,
From making us happy by giving Sword Laws,
From trampling oth' Mitre & Crown with applause,
Libera nos.
[Page 110]
From Hunting the King and abjuring his Race,
From Cleansers of Bungholes usurping his place,
From preachers in Tubs that are void of all Grace,
Libera nos.
From Vulcans Treasons late forg'd by the Fan,
From starving of Mice to be Parliament Man,
From his Copper face that out face all things can,
Libera nos.
From voting Lords useless, and dangeroufly Ill,
From hanging of Bishops for dropping the Bill,
From letting Fanaticks have too much their Will,
Libera nos.
From purging the house to obstruct our free Choice,
From Resolving the King to oppose with one voice,
From such that at Mischief do daily Rejoyce
Libera nos.
From all the Seditious that love not the King,
From such as a Civil war once more wou'd bring,
And Repenting with Colledge at last in a string,
Libera nos.

[Page 111]

THE Last Will and Testament OF ANTHONY King of Poland.

MY Tap is run, then Baxter tell me why
Shou'd not the good the great Potapski die?
Grim death who lays us all upon our backs,
Instead of Sythe doth now advance his Ax.
And I who all my Life in Broyls have spent,
Intend at last to make a fettlement.
Imprimis, for my Soul (tho' I had thought
To've left that thing I never minded, out)
Some do advi e for fear of doing wrong,
To give it him to whom it doth belong.
But I who all mankind have cheated, now
Intend likewise to cheat the Devil too.
Therefore I leave my Soul unto my Son,
For he, as Wisemen think, as yet hath none.
[Page 112]
Then for my Polish Crown that pretty thing,
Let Mon—tak't, who longs to be a King.
His empty Head soft nature did design,
For such a Light and Airy Crown as mine.
With my Estate, I'le tell you how it stands,
Jack Ketch must have my Cloathes; the K. my Lands,
Item. I leave the damn'd Association,
To all the wise Disturbers of the Nation.
Not that I think they'l gain their Ends thereby,
But that they may be hang'd as well as I.
Armestrong in Murders and in Whoring skill'd,
Who twenty Bastards gets, for one Man kill'd.
To thee I do bequeath my Brace of Whores,
Long kept to draw the Humours from my Sores.
For you they'l serve as well as Silver Tap,
For VVomen give, and sometimes cure a Clap.
How—d my partner in Captivity,
False to thy God and King, but true to me,
To thee some heinous Legacy I'de give,
But that I think thou hast not long to live.
Besides thou'st Wickedness enough in store,
To serve thy self, and Twenty Thousand more.
To thee (young Gray) I'd some small Toy present,
For you with any thing can be Content.
Then take the Knife with which I cut my Corns,
T'will serve to pare and sharp your Lordships Horns
That you may Rampant Mon— push and gore,
Till he shall leave your house and change his Whore.
[Page 113]
On top of Monument let my Head stand,
It self a Monument, where first began
The flame that has Endangered all the Land.
But first to Titus let my Fars be thrown,
For He 'tis thought will shortly lose his own.
I leave Old Baxter my Invenom'd Teeth,
To Bite and Poyson all the Bishops with.
My Squinting Eyes let Ignoramus wear,
That they may this way look, and that way swear.
Let the Citts take my Nose because 'tis said,
That by the Nose I them have always led.
But for their Wives I nothing now can spare,
For all my Life time they have had their share,
Let not my Quarters stand on City Gate,
Least they new Sects and Factions do create.
For certainly the Presbyterian VVenches,
In dirt will fall to Idolize my Haunches.
But, that I may to my old Friend be Civil,
Let some Witch make them Mummy for the Devil.
To good K. Charles I leave (tho faith, 'tis pity,)
A Poy son'd Nation, and deluded City.
Seditious Clamours, Murmurs, Jealousies,
False Oathes, sham storyes, and Religious Lyes.
Ther's one thing still which I had quite forgot,
To him I leave the Carcass of my Plot.
In a Consumption the poor thing doth Lie,
And when I'm gon 'twill pine away, and die.
Let Jenkings in a Tub my worth declare,
And let my Life be writ by Harry Care.
[Page 114]
And if my Bowels in the Earth find Room,
Then let these Lines be writ upon my Tomb.

ANEPITAPH upon his Bowels.YE Mortal Whigs for death prepare,
For mighty Tapsky's Guts lie here:
Will his great Name keep sweet d'y' think!
For certainly his Entrals Stink.
Alas! 'tis but a Foolish pride
To outsin all Mankind beside.
When such Illustrious Garbage must
Be mingled with the Common dust.
Palfe Nature! that cou'd thus delude
The Cheater of the Multitude.
That put his Thoughts upon the Wing,
And Egg'd 'em on to be a King.
See now to what an use she puts
His Noble great and little Guts.
Tapski who was a Man of Wit,
Had guts for other uses fit.
Tho Fiddle strings they might not be,
(Because he hated Harmony)
Yet for Black Puddings they were good,
Their Master did delight in Blood.
Of this they shou'd have drank their fill,
(King Cyrus did not fare so ill)
Poor Guts cou'd this have been your hap,
Sh'rif Bethel might have got a Shap.
But now at York his Guts must rumble,
Since you into a hole did Tumble.

[Page 115]

A Codecil To the Former WILL Added in HOLLAND where he Dyed January, 20th. 1682.

MOurn! England Mourn! Let not thy griefs be feign'd,
The Tap so long upon the Lees is Drain'd.
The cringing Atlas of the State and Church
Is faln, and left his proselites ith' Lurch.
Alas? what will become oth' Reformation?
The Popish Plots, and Blank Association?
Our Rights and Libertys and good old Cause,
Patch'd Juryes, and th' Ignoramus Laws?
What will become oth' Saints in Tribulation
If Tory Loyalty comes into Fashion?
The Salamanca Doctor must take Post,
If Tompson and Lestrange must rule the Rost,
And Monkey Care, Gotham, and Sniveling Dick,
Must from the Hague e'en follow to old Nick.
In vain we strive to shun th'appointed Fate
That on the Knave as well as Fool does Wait.
Tho I (said he) have drawn Infectious Breath,
And liv'd this Sixty years in spight of Death.
[Page 116]
Had I been Hang'd but half those years agon,
Less Treason had Ensu'd, less Mischief don.
But as there is an Evil Genious Waits,
On private Men, so there's on publick States,
The universal Temper of Mankind,
That always in the Ditch will lead the Blind,
Of Sin and Faction the Alloted Bane,
And for that very Cause has leave to Reign,
Els Belzebub long since I'de been thy due,
But that he fear'd I shou'd Supplant him too.
Thus like the Devil I was made a Curse
To all Mankind: My Lord and Master worse,
Betray'd like Judas while I kept the Purse.
Yet still in every state I walk'd secure,
Grave with the King, and jocund with the VVhore.
And never did one Lucky Mischeif Vow,
But Grateful Lawrells still adorn'd my Brown.
In every state have so succesfull been,
As if Success was the Reward of Sin.
And all this while not the Severest Law
Cou'd find me Guilty tho' they found a Flaw.
Still by my Art or Ignoramus Friends,
I Guiltless seem'd, and still pursu'd my ends,
For what was all the Specious pretence,
Of Subjects right, and safety of the Prince?
Religion, Liberty, Association?
But to betray all and Enslave the Nation?
VVhich by so many VViles I did Inthrall,
VVhilst the blind Rabble worship'd me as Baal.
[Page 117]
But now the Mist is Vanish'd from their Eyes,
They see my Crimes throw all their thick Disguise.
(Tho' for the Saints and Brethren I dare say
I cou'd have kept in Ignorance to this day.)
Once Sons of Light, but now the Saints are blind,
VVhite Torys Janus like have Eyes behind.
Thus all my shams discover'd I poor I
VVas forc'd altho' my wings were clipt to fly,
Nay tho' no legs I had, my Gate was fleet,
Oblig'd to Travel tho' I wanted Feet,
From Justice (all my Crimes laid at my Door)
Found Pow'r to run, who cou'd not crawl before.
Old and Decrepid, gouty Toes, scar'd Shins,
Turn Pilgrim in my Dotage for my Sins.
My Strength and Action gon, I fly the Stage
VVith all the Frailtyes that attends on Age.
And nothing left me but the Constant VVill
And Natural Inclination to do ill.
Glad to sham off with all my Vanquish'd hope
To save that Neck that wou'd disgrace a Rope.
My Hopes are fled, let Death wind up the Charm
Life's but a plague if I can do no harm.
Our Canting words no longer will prevail,
Our Liberty and Property's grown stale.
The Rights and Priviledges of the Nation,
The like Cast Suits, when Loyalty's in fashion,
Our Plots and Perjurys will do no more,
Our Slavery and Arbitrary Power
Are with my Banish'd self thrown out of Door.
[Page 118]
What now Remains but that this Tap shou'd burst,
Who can do more that has e'en don his worst?
That the prov'd Foe Rejoyce not in my fall.
Now Heart break Heart and bafle Catch and all,
But ere I Fall a Victim tho' too late,
In a vile Nation to a Viler Fate,
I thus bequeath the Remnant of my Estate.
My former Will as Fates Decretals stands,
But something's due unto the Netherlands
For their Civiltyes Since here I Fled,
Foul Napkins, Stinking Fish, and Mouldy Bread.
To th' States because they are a freeborn Nation
I do bequeath my New Association.
That perfect Model of true Anarchy,
And Charm against all Monarch Tyranny.
Tho' to live here had it so pleas'd the Fates,
I had been King or th' Devil had had the States.
My heart with Faction flam'd that source of Evil,
I leave to my old Club that Haunts the Devil,
As fickle and as false, as is their own
Sworn Enemy to all that sways the Throne.
My Lungs my Ignoramus Frienps are yours,
But for my Lights I leave 'em to the Bores
To blow the Bellows of each new Sedition
On any Change of Faction or Religion.
I leave my Brains to that Incestuous Crew,
The Lordly Tribe who lofty Treasons Brew.
Those hot brain'd fiery Catalines of state,
Who their own and the Nations Ills create,
And will I fear like me, Repent too late,
[Page 119]
To Bethel and his Brethren I Resign
The Ax which Baffled Fate predestin'd mine,
To do that Execution they would bring
On Monarcy and an Indulgent King.
To th' Salamanca Beagle of the Plot,
I leave a Holter as his proper Lot
For his ill management (whild Fools conniv'd)
Of an ill Plot that was so well contriv'd.
And lastly to these Friends who were at strife,
Loosing themselves to save a wretched Life,
I do Bequeath my Sledg as the just Fee
Of their accumulated Perjury.
You the Trustees of this my Dying Will,
If you in Villany wou'd prosper still,
Besure you justly every point fulfil.

[Page 120]

SHAFTSBURYS FAREWELL OR The Association,

GReatest of Men, yet Mans least friend farewell,
VVits mightiest but most useless Miracle.
VVhere Nature all her Richest Treasures stor'd,
To make one vast unprofitable Hoard.
So high as thine no Orb of fire cou'd rowl,
The Brightest, yet the most Excenticle Soul;
VVhom midst wealth, Honour, Fame, yet want of Ease,
No power cou'd e're oblige, no state cou'd please.
Be in thy grave with peaceful slumbers blest,
And find thy whole Life's only stranger, REST.
Oh Sh—ry had thy prodigious Mind
Been to thy self and thy great Master kind.
Glory had wanted Lungs thy Toomb to blow,
And Pyramids had been a Tomb too low.
Oh that the VVorld (Great statesmen) e're shou'd see
Nebucadnezzars Dream fullfill'd in thee!
Whilst such low Paths led thy great Soul away,
Thy Head of Gold mov'd but on Feet of Clay.
Yes, from Rebellions late Inhumane Rage,
The Crimes and Chaos of that Monstrous Age.
[Page 121]
As the old Patriarch from Sodom Flew,
So to great CHARLES his Sacred Bosom Thou;
But oh? with more then Lots Wifes fatal Fault,
For which she stood in Monumental salt.
Tho' the Black scene thy hasting Footstep flyes,
Thy Soul turns back and looks with longing eyes.
Oh restless Peer! that the Records of same
Shou'd give Erothratus and Thee one name.
Great was his bold Atchievment, Greater Thine,
Greater as Kings then Shrines are more Divine.
Greater as Vaster Toils it did Require
To' inflame three Kingdoms, that one Temple fire.
But where are all those blustering storms Retir'd,
That roar'd so loud when Oliver Expir'd?
Storms that rent Oaks, and Rocks asunder broke,
And at his Exequies in Thunder Spoke?
Was there less Cause when thy last doom was given
To waken all the Revellers of Heaven?
Or did there want in Beligias humble Soil,
A Cedar fit to fall thy Funerall pile?
No: Die, and Heaven th' Expence of Thunder save,
Husk'd as thy own designs down to Thy Grave.
So husk'd may all the portents of the sky
With thee our last great Comets Influence Die.
May this one stroke our lowring Tempests Clear,
And all the Fiery Trigon finish here.
With thee Expire the Democratick Gall,
Thy Sepulchre and Lethe swallow all.
[Page 122]
Here ends the Poison of that Viperous Brood,
And make thy Urn like Moses wond'rous Rod,
So may our Breaches close in thy one Grave,
Till Sh—ry's last breath three Nations save.
And Dying thus t'avert his Countrys Doom,
Go with more Fame then Curtius to his Tomb.
But is he Dead! How! cruel Belgia say!
Lodg'd in thy Arms, yet make so short a stay!
Ungrateful Country, Barbarous Holland shoar,
Cou'd the Batavian Climat do no more!
Her Sh—ry's dear Life no longer save!
What a Republick Air! And yet so quick a Grave!
Oh! all ye scatter'd Sons of Titan Weep,
This Dismal day with solemn Mourning keep,
Like Israels Moulten Calf your Medall burn,
And into Tears your great Laetemur Turn.
Oh! wail in dust to think how Fates dire frown,
Has Thrown your dear Herculean Column down.
Oh! Charon waft thy load of Mischiefs o're,
And land him sasly on the Stygian shore.
At his Approach James loudest Trumpet call,
Cromwell, Cook, Ireton, Bradshaw, Hewson, all,
From all the Courts below, each well pleas'd Ghost,
All the Republick Legions, Numerous Host,
Swarm thick to see your mighty Hero Land,
Crow'd up the shoar and blacken all the Strand;
And, what e're Chance on Earth, or Powers accurst,
Broke all your Bands, your holy Leagues all burst,
This union of the SAINTS no storm shall sever,
This last ASSOCIATION holds for ever.

[Page 123]
THE RECOVERY.YET once more Peace turns back her head to smile,
And take some pitty on our stubborn Isle,
She and her Sister Truth, now hand in hand,
Return to Visit our forsaken Land,
I see, I see! Oh Albion help the sight,
TRUTH long eclips'd, lift up her Sacred Light,
And chase away those obscene Birds of Night.
Th' ill-boding Scritch-owl we so long did fear,
Hovering above in our thicken'd Air,
Whose fatal note was never heard, but Death
Follow'd th' Infernal Evidencing Breath.
Hail Lovely Truth! Oh spred thy Rays Divine,
And let thy dawning Beams more fully shine,
Already thy glad Inference we find,
And all now see, but they who will be blind,
They see whilst thou holds up thy guiding Light,
The dangerous Errours of the former Night,
A Night which all our Heaven did invade,
By the Dire skill of State Magicians made.
In a dark Cell the Wayward Brothers Met,
Ith' midst there was a Chair for Satan set,
Which in his absence—
A little wither'd Conjurer supply'd,
And all his Imps drank Venom from his side,
[Page 124]
His word was (then he out his Tap did pluck.)
Come my young Pugs of Treason, come and suck.
This Hellish Rite perform'd to work they go,
To raise up Darkness from the shades below,
Thick Mists of popular fears, and Jealousies,
Did at the Necromantick Call arise,
And in black Clouds hid all the Brittish Skies.
Here first their unskil'd Sp'rits their Visions play'd,
And learn'd their Message to the Hatfield Maid,
Here first were rais'd the wondring World to scare
The Armies Harris muster'd in the Air.
But now the Charms dissolv'd, and England free
From the Enchantment does its madness see,
Sees its vain fears of that expected Day,
No Royal Bloud, stain'd the Fifteenth of May,
Prevailing Truth has open'd Brittains Eyes,
And Folly seen, begins to make her wise.
Oh! Let us then unite, let Faction cease,
Nor think Confusion is the way of Peace,
That Schism must the Churches fall prevent.
And breaking Laws, secure the Government,
Let Traytors to expected Tryal come,
And from the Mouth of Justice hear their Doom,
Tis so, He's gon where Justice does maintain
Her Seat in Peace, nor bears the Sword in vain,
No Hackney speakers there o're Law prevail,
To Conquer thee by telling of a tale,
Nor Factious, nor guilty Lords appear,
To blunt that Sword whose Edge they justly fear.
[Page 125]
No Garter blew nor Star that Court can awe,
That Star which did long since its Beams with draw,
Nor at the Tryal can its Light dispence,
To Cherish Treason with its Influence.
Here all in vain strives Councellor and Lord,
Where the Revenging Goddess speaks the word,
Nor can Confession turn aside the Blow,
From Criminals that own that they are so,
Had this been done long since 't had sav'd the guilt
Of so much Bloud so prodigally spilt,
VVhile certain Villany did hurry hence,
To unjust Death suspected Innocence.
But Justice now is this Triumphant scene,
Thy shame does end, and Triumph doth begin,
All this to thy Defender Charles is due,
Who now with the his Glorys does Renew,
Already with fresh Beams the Crown does shine,
Power Sacred grows, and Majesty Divine,
His mighty Scepters in his hand held fast,
Nor like a Deed is bent with every blast.
Hold, hold Great Charles, this Resolution hold,
And in thy own, and Countrys Cause be bold,
Whatever of this mighty Body thou,
The Head, Resolvest, we thy hands will do,
Dare to be happy, and to make us so.
How great is Majesty, and how August,
How Godlike when 'tis Resolutely just?
Then 'tis that willing Subjects gladly meet,
To throw their Lives before their Monarchs Feet,
[Page 126]
There 'tis their Fortunes they before him lay,
Sue to be Rul'd and Glory to Obey,
Such Charles is now thy State, and such the Train
Of those that now petition thee to Reign,
See ev'n thy Prodigal Son does now destre,
To leave his Husk, and Swine, and Wapping mire,
In which so long he wallow'd up and down.
Known to each dirty Kennel in the Town.
And to his Injur'd Father and his Lord,
Wou'd by his much wrong'd Uncle be restor'd.
How well have W—ms, Jones, and W—ton,
B—ch, G—rd, T—by, their great Duty don?
How have they taught the People to Repent
Their Zeal for their great Idol Parliament,
How have they shewn the Arbitrary Way
That Monster took to make us all its Prey!
They to loose all, claim'd more then was their Right,
And stretch'd their Pow'r only to break it quite,
These, these are they who have true Service done,
Meriting their secret favours from the Crown,
These, these have made a Dissolution be,
Not VVisdom only, but Necessity.
These thus remov'd our Jealousies and Fears,
VVere ever such deserving Pensioners?
Then Charles, since all things now conspire to bless
Thy graceful Age with Conquest and success,
Begin, Resolve, and venture to be great,
Nor over-throw those vast designs of Fate.
Begin at home, purge thine own house, and Free
From Villains Tongues the Ears of Majesty.

[Page 127]

ON THE Kings Deliverance AT NEW MARKET.

I.SO Weapons prosper which are form'd 'gainst Heaven,
Or it is Vice grant Heavens peculiar Care,
To whom are more then Vulgar Blessings given,
And fire has sav'd whom men more Cruel wou'd not spare.
Some greater Genius him defends,
By mighty means for mighty ends,
And makes his Foes his Footstool be,
Or (what his Goodness more Delights to see)
Makes them his Friends:

II.Nor do we more Congratulate,
The present safety of the State,
Then future peace which we anticipate.
Now Treasonous Arts are so Expos'd to view,
The Plots as soon as hatch'd are blasted too.
[Page 128]
Popery's coming in they well might cry,
Whose Methods wou'd fulfill the Prophesy.
Nor did they cheat the World who took such pain,
The Jealosyes they rais'd shou'd not be vain.
First Arbitrary power must down,
Meaning the Crown.
Then must some Ministers be in Disgrace,
Because a Rebel wants his place.
More Liberty the People crave,
Yet know not how to use that which they have.
Next that Mens Propertyes secur'd must bee,
They'f made the King a Property,
What Monstrous Blessings wou'd a Change create,
Might Atheists mend the Church, and Knaves the State.
But shall we twice be gull'd by one pretence?
With one Allegiance have we lost 'em since?
These very Tricks ruin'd us once before,
Curse of such Arts which now are Arts no more.

III.All that is envi'd still attend the Throne,
And him that sits Theron.
But when these Earthly Gods shall dye like Men,
Let only Nature then
(Nature the Rule of him by whom Kings Reign)
Appoint who next shall grace and truth Maintain.
May Names of Matchless Heroes of this Race,
Distinguish happy times till time it self shall cease.

FINIS.

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