The Oxford alderman's speech to the D. of M. when His Grace made his entrance into that city about Sept. 1680

The Oxford alderman's speech to the D. of M. when His Grace made his entrance into that city about Sept. 1680

Table of contents

The OXFORD Alarman's Speech to the D. of M. when hi• Grace made his Entrance into that Ci••, about Sept. 1680.

A Canto on the new Miracle wrought by the D. of M. curing a young Wench of the Kings Evil, as it is related at large by B. Harris in his Prot. Intelligence, publiſh'd Friday Jan. 7th, 1681. to prevent falſe Reports.

The OXFORD Alarman's Speech to the D. of M. when hi [...] Grace made his Entrance into that Ci [...], about Sept. 1680.

[Page]

STout HANIBAL before He came to Age,

Perpetual Wars with Rome was ſworn to wage!

You lead Us to ſuch Wars; & Happy We!

Great Prince▪ You are a Solder good as He;

Tho ſome will ſay (to give the Devil his due,)

He was as good a Proteſtant as You.

You to that whore of whores, the whore of Rome,

Devoted from your own fair Mothers womb,

Tho in the Schools of Jeſuits th [...]e bred,

You ſcorn'd to learn of them to [...]rite or Read:

A PROTESTANT the more to be admir'd,

That never were inſtructed, but inſpir'd.

So unconcern'd from Popery You paſs,

No uſe of Underſtanding in the Caſe.

True Intereſt, that all other things or'e powers,

And Gen'rous Indignation made You Ours:

Even ſo in Spain to Maſs come trading Jews,

Caſt Drabs turn Quakers but to ſpite the Jews.

But Fears and Jealouſies of You we ſcorn,

That were ſo true a Son of Honour born;

And ſince have made both Gog and Magog bleed,

Act but the Demagogue, you'l do the Deed:

You'l Dam and Ram proud Antichriſt to Hell;

But force him firſt to work one Miracle.

He that with four hard words, and one grave Nod,

Turns an inſipid Wafer into God;

Were You a Dough-bak'd DUKE, with leſs ado,

To Prince of Wales may Tranſubſtantiate You.

Do You but ſay't, we'll ſwear that You are ſo,

And rather kiſs your Hand than kiſs his Toe:

Reſolv'd, reſolv'd it muſt not be gainſaid;

Faith we'll believe your Mother was a Maid.

Why ſhould you think Ambition any Crime?

We'll make you Duke of Venice in good time:

Or, if You ſcruple to Uſurp the Crown,

Having once rais'd Us, You may then ſit down:

You or your Friends ſhall have the foremoſt place;

Perhaps we'll joyn Sir A—ſt—ng with your Grace:

Whether You Reign or He, 'tis much at one,

Great Alexander's dear Hepheſtion.

But when you come to reap theſe goodly Fruits,

Sweet Sir, Remember theſe our humble ſuits.

Firſt, Let theſe Lordly Biſhops go to pot;

'Tis plain their Lordſhips all are in the PLOT;

They hold none Lawful Heirs, but Lawfully begot.

Our Commonwealth's a Caſtle in the Air,

If we ſtill Pray for KING in Common-Prayer.

Theſe Paltry Schollars, blaſt them with one Breath,

Or they'l Rhime Your Grace and Us to Death.

Then O Brave We! then Hei for our good Town!

Then up go We when Wit and Senſe go down.

FINIS.

A Canto on the new Miracle wrought by the D. of M. curing a young Wench of the Kings Evil, as it is related at large by B. Harris in his Prot. Intelligence, publiſh'd Friday Jan. 7th, 1681. to prevent falſe Reports.

AS Popiſh Farriers uſe t'imploy

In their own Trade the good St. Loy;

The Saint to whom they have recourſe,

As to Heav'ns Master of the Horſe;

To Him they lowdly cry for Mercy

On ragged Colts that have the Farcy:

For Hackneys gall'd to Him they pray,

And drink dead drunk upon his Day:

So to His Grace of M— trots

A Folly Fole that had the Botts;

For ſtill ſhe knew, and 'twas no News,

He keeps the Mares, tho not the Mews.

But had you ſeen the skittiſh Jade,

You would have thought her Drunk or Mad;

For at firſt daſh his Hand ſhe ſeiz'd,

Much was th'ambitious Heroe pleas'd.

So ſweetly did Don Quixot grinn,

When the Maid Marrian of the Inne,

He thought was ſome Enchanted Queen.

Askt his dead-doing Hand to kiſs;

But what White Devil danc'd in this?

Some Fly, ſome Rat, or great old Puſs,

Or Spirit Mephoſtophilus;

Or Pug, that Paracelſus wore

In th'Pomel of his Sword before;

Or Healing Virtue that as rare is,

Is ſent His Grace by's Aunt of Fayries,

Who aids him thus in hugger mugger;

So did Doll Common Abel Drugger.

Some ſweaty Devil in his Palm,

Transfuſes Brine inſtead of Balm;

And Brine you know is good for th'Itch,

In any Mangy Dog or Bitch;

Long in his Fiſt the Leprous Drab,

Paddles and pores familiar Scab!

The Witch her Dam had ſet her Fancy

Agog upon this Chyromancy;

To view each Line the Hag importunes,

And thus young Gypſie reads his Fortunes,

The Men of Weſtminſter ſhall paſs

High Votes in Honour of your Grace;

No Prayers for fear of the Black Rod,

They'l Vote (I fear) no King, no God.

Great ſtickling there ſhall be for Two,

Pillory'd Benjamin, and You.

What will You give Me this next Spring,

If then You are not Crown'd a King?

By Oats before we reap next Crop,

Oats in a Tub ſhall Preach You up.

So Sybil ended her vile gueſſing,

And each to other gave their Bleſſing.

But O the Green-ſick Girls may boaſt,

This Duke hath cur'd Them to His Coſt;

Tho now he cuts his Capers high,

He may with Falſtaff one day cry;

When Age hath ſet him in the Stocks,

A Pox of my Gout, a Gout on my Pox.

The Lyon Rampant is too wiſe,

To touch a Prince though in diſguiſe;

Much leſs a Prince ſo Kind and Civil,

To touch a Kingdom for Kings-Evil.

He means to make it for its health,

A Common-Whore, a Common-wealth.

The Stroaker Graitrix was a Sot,

And all his Feat-tricks are forgot;

But Duke Trinculo, and Tom Dory,

Will be a Famous Quack in Story.

Let every ſcabby City-Cuckow,

Fly into your Hedge-lane to look you.

If ſeventh Sons do things ſo rare,

In You ſeven Fathers have a ſhare;

Shew us ſome more of theſe fine mocks,

Shew your Black Art, ſhew your Black Box;

'Tis thought you've there ſome pure Receipt,

Great Mountibank of our ſick State.

Your Zany, who this Cure reveals,

Tells us in March your Highneſs heals.

FINIS.

Information about this book

Title statement

The Oxford alderman's speech to the D. of M. when His Grace made his entrance into that city about Sept. 1680

Wright, William, b. 1658 or 9.

Edition statement

1681

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A67174

ID [STC]

Wing W3716

ID [STC]

ESTC R35273

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

15091715

ID [OCLC]

ocm 15091715

ID [VID]

103223

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Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A67174)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 103223)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1581:48)

Source

— The Oxford alderman's speech to the D. of M. when His Grace made his entrance into that city about Sept. 1680, Wright, William, b. 1658 or 9..

Extent

1 broadside.

s.n.,. [Oxford? :: 1681]. (Imprint suggested by Wing.) (Attributed to Wright by Wing and NUC pre-1956 imprints.) (Printed with: A Canto on the new miracle wrought by the D. of M. curing a young wench of the kings evil.) (Reproduction of original in the Harvard University Library.)

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