To his Royal Highness the Duke.

THey who oppose your Right unto the Crown,
Would, had they pow'r, pull Monarchy quite down:
'Tis not, so qualifi'd they would have one
Of this, or that Religion, on the Throne;
No, no, we know their minds, they would have none.
The men that lately kept from Charles his due,
Now promise fair to dis-inherit you;
They who explode your Right, to make us slaves,
Are not Presumptive, but Apparent Knaves:
By our Dissentions they would smooth their way,
And from Contenders hope to snatch the Prey.
But such men seldom in the end can boast,
They threaten loud, but still their Cause is lost
In such affairs, they'll find it to their cost.
Still the old Cheat, Religion is the cry,
And made the Ram to batter Monarchy;
Cause they deserve, they fear the smarting Rod,
And most Religiously distrust their God.
Envy at Regal Sway, (Ah it is sad)
And Zeal mis-guided made those Bill-men mad:
These took rash measures, and did ill advise;
But without jealousie or wrong surmise,
The future will prove Loyal, Calm, and Wise.
To us it cannot but assurance bring,
That a good Man can make as good a King.
Factious design, and damn'd Plebeian rage,
Does to no mean degree distract the Age,
And watch the tott'ring of our settled State.
But can we be such Sheep, such careless Elves,
Not to beware the Wolves among our selves?
Those Beasts of Prey, that lurk in a disguise,
That wear our skins; 'tis there our danger lies:
Against their Brother-Wolves they raise the cry,
'Cause their Addresses are not half so slie.
A Papist seems a Papist to our sight,
But our Fanatick, 'cause he would not fright,
Daubs o'er the Devil like a Child of Light.
But Ah! great Sir, where you should still Command,
You, like a Stranger, visit your own Land;
You for a moment Tantalize our sight,
Then, like the absent Sun, you give us night:
But 'tis the ready way, we must confess,
To make us know and prize our happiness;
Whilst all do suffer, for the faulty few,
England must lose it self in losing you.
But to Great Britain come —
May you in highest splendor live, and be
Happy and safe, Great Sir, in One of Three.
Sir, may your Right no otherwise prove vain,
Than by the length of our Great CHARLES his Reign.
We cannot, Sir, but prove a happy Nation;
One bliss enjoy'd, another in expectation.
There but remains this great Truth in the close,
Your Virtue 'nd Courage, Sir, the whole World knows,
And y' are born, for Conquest o'er your Foes.

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