A dialogue between the ghosts of the two last Parliaments, at their late interview

A DIALOGUE Between the Ghoſts of the Two laſt Parliaments, at their late Interview.

—Fuimus Troes.— Nitimur in vetitum.—

Weſtminſter Ghoſt's Advice. FRom deepeſt Dungeons of Eternal Night, The ſeats of Horor, Sorrow, Pains & ſpight, I have been ſent to tell your tender Youth 〈◊〉 • ſonable and Important Truth! 〈…〉 , (but Oh too late,) that no Deſeaſe 〈…〉 a Surfeit of Luxurious Eaſe, 〈◊〉 of all other, the moſt tempting things, 〈◊〉 too much Wealth, and too Indulgent Kings. 〈◊〉 ever was ſuperlatively ill, 〈◊〉 by Degrees, with Induſtry and Skill: 〈◊〉 ſome, whoſe Meaning hath at firſt been fair, • ow Knaves by Uſe, and Rebels by Deſpair. 〈◊〉 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. The buiſie ſubtile Serpents of the Law, Did firſt my Mind from true Obedience draw; While I did Limits to the King preſcribe, And took for Oracles that Canting Tribe, 〈◊〉 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 I Legally abus'd. The Robe was ſummon'd, M—d in the head, 〈◊〉 Legal Murder none ſo deeply read: 〈◊〉 brought him to the Bar, where once he ſtood, Stain'd with (the yet un expiated) Blood Of the Brave Strafford, when 3 Kingdoms rung With his accumulative Hackney Tongue; Priſoners, and Witneſſes were waiting by, Theſe had been taught to Swear, and thoſe to dy, And to expect Their Arbitrary Fates, Some for ill •• es, ſome for good Eſtates: 〈◊〉 • ght the People, and Alarm the Town, B—and O— imploy'd the Reverend Gown. But while the Triple Mitre bore the blame, The Kings 3 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— Anti-monarchick Hereticks of Sate, Immoral 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 Ruine Subjects, and make Kings obey; And my ſmall Jehu at a Furious Rate, Was driving Eighty back to Forty Eight. This the King knew, and was Reſolv'd to bear, But I miſtook his Patience for his Fear: All that this happy Iſland could afford, Was Sacrific'd to my Voluptuous Board. In his whole Paradice one only Tree He had excepted by a ſtrict Degree; A Sacred Tree which Royal Fruit did bear, Ye It in pieces I Conſpir'd to tear; Beware my Child! Divinity is there. T • is ſo out-did all I had done before, I • ould attempt, and He indure no more. My Un-prepar'd and Un-repenting breath, W • s ſnatch'd away by the ſwift Hand of Death, A • d I (with all my Sins about me) hurl'd, To th' utter Darkneſs of the lower World; A dreadful place which you too ſoon will ſee, If You believe Seducers more than Me.

Oxford Ghoſt. HAil great prophetick Spirit who could ſee Through the dark Glaſs of rip'ning time, what we Too true have found, and now too late complain, That thou Great Spirit ſhouldſt foretel in vain: Full well and faithfully didſt thou adviſe, Had we been modeſtly and timely wiſe: Free may you range, ſaidſt 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 Ruine's there, and ſure Deſtruction, How great a truth, had it in time been known.

Westm. Ghoſt. Vain empty Nothing, that wert lately All, How juſt, and how unpitied is thy Fall: Well worthy of the horrours of this place, That would no warning take by my Diſgrace; Glutted with plenty, ſurfeited with Peace, Weary of Bleſſings, ſick of too much Eaſe: • ad reſtleſs Troublers of our Iſrael, Who would not quiet be when things went well; Of ſecret baſe Deſigns meer manag'd Tools, Raſh, unadviſed, incorrigible F— Brisk Hotſpurs, inconſiderately 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 pace: Inſenſible, regardleſs of my Fate; Dull Phrygian Sages, wiſe when 'tis too late; You liv'd, and then you had an eaſie way T'have provided againſt the Evil Day, Who would not then be timely wiſe, for bear 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; Su'd a dull Property for baſe hidden Ends. Liberty, Property and 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 choaks Religion: Of publick Intereſt you had no concern; But damn'd a Proverb, Ne'r too late to learn. By no experience taught, miſcarriage tam'd, Nor by ſad inſtance of my Fate reclaim'd, What prejudice and private uſe ill us'd Falſe Zeal and like Religion ill excus'd: Who (ſtiff-necked) 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— and W— As if all Wiſdom were in them alone: A Houſe of Commons crumbl'd 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 evil Spirit's Influence did prevail, That you who might at large ſecurely Sail in a full Sea, and from all Danger free, Would run upon that Shelf that ruin'd me? Theſe ſure and ſad effects I well foreſaw; Theſe real ills, which ſeeming good would draw; From theſe ſad Conſequences to diſſwade, I was ſent forth, and gladly I obey'd: I told you then what now too true you find, Where Zeal flies 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. Counſel was thrown away, Fool that I was. Where men with Law and Prophets would not live, To think a Meſſage from the dead ſhould thrive. Spight of my fore-ſight and my dear bought skill, Caſſandra I; you faithleſs Pans are ſtill. Your boundleſs Paſſion did no meaſures keep, Well might you break your Neck with ſuch a leap: Men may at diſtance hover about Kings, And by your influence move earthly things; But when thoſe bounds they would exceed, and fly Too near the Sun, ſcorcht, they drop down, and dy. What an occaſion loſt you to improve The Prince's Favour and the Peoples Love? This when conſidering Poſterity Shall think upon, they'l hate your Memory; And as once ancient Rome, they in their turn, Wiſh you had never died, or ne'r been born. Should your Succeſſors tread your ſteps, they then, Though they were Gods, like us ſhall die like 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 our ſad Fate, ſelf-preſervation learn; And merit (by avoiding needleſs Fears) By moderate Councils and praiſe-worthy Cares, A Monarchs Bleſſing and three Kingdoms Pray'rs.