AN ANSWER To the Whiggish POEM on the Loyal Apprentices FEAST.
THe buisy Town grew still, and Trait'rous Whigs
Had lately chang'd their Looks and Periwigs,
Left 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
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 LOYAL-FEAST in MERCHNT-TAYLORS-HALL
'Mongst Coxcomb-Lords, and Worshippers of BAAL;
Whither Foolish KING, and PRINCES too had sent
Fat BUCKS, 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, we'll 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 LUCIFER, and from him borrow
A brand or two of his Infernal LIGHT,
T'intoxicate poor people in the Night,
New Lights, and new Discoveries they bring,
Dark-Lanthorn-Counsels how t'abuse 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 Loyal Beagles of the Town
Flock from their Shops, t'adore the Idol CROWN.
Those silly 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 [...]acred for our Jaws.
Help now or never, Baxter, Cur [...]is, Care,
And all True Patriots of our Holy War;
The KING and COURT can't be more odious made
Strike now; strike home, or all our, LO [...] betraid.
Thus far the Whigs; For here the True Sence lies
Of all their Libels, Rhithmes; and Forgeries;
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 be
Are like to shew; which makes us think, and say,
Old Nick's as True, and Loyal too, as They.
But YOU, Brave Loyal YOUTHS (that Fools and 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 Heavns 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.
LONDON: Printed for Allen Banks, 1682.