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The PLAIN CASE STATED Of Old— but especially of New-England, in an Address to His HIGHNESS THE PRINCE OF ORANGE·
HAil noble Prince, in whom our Joy and Love
Unite, and (as to their own Center) move.
In whom those Royal Qualities combine
Which may erect a Second Constantine.
Among the Songs which Britain's joyful dayes
To You present, accept New-England's Praise:
VVe also boast our selves of English Race:
And from our Ancestors, who stock't this place,
The name of stricter Protestants derive,
And in Your faith and favour hope to live.
We heard, (and it to us did Sorrow bring)
The much-lamented death of the late King;
And, with but too much Truth, did calculate
From thence of all our woes, the wretched Date
Then James, with Papal Benediction
And Popish principles assum d the Throne:
A Prince whom Nobler Vertues ne're did yeild
Fitter, the Sceptre of the World to wield:
But to what Ills can Popery perswade!
And to what Ruin do its Maxims lead!
And what a Hackney is a Bigot made!
Under his umbrage did the Birds of Night
Sing their damn'd notes, and sang them with delight;
And Locusts of the Fit, grac't with his Smile,
In swarms invaded our (once happy) Isle.
Heroick El'sabeth for us, in vain,
Bafled the fraud of Rome and pride of Spain.
Whilst Jesuited James did readvance
The twisted policies of Rome and France.
A Nuncio from the old Rogue of Rome
Must with Applause to England's Palace come,
A Nuncio, which a Century or more
Of reform'd England never saw before;
And we, in grateful sort, must send again
On humble Embassy good Castlemain,
And, by a Proxy kiss his Worship's Toe,
Whence unknown streames of unknown Blessings flow.
From Innocent our plotted Ruin came,
Guilty in Fact, tho Innocent in Name.
From France's Don, whose Papal-Romish trade
Of Blood and Ruin has such havock made,
That his one Persecution has done more
Than the ten under pagan-Rome before.
From Jesuits a brood, hatch't by the Devil,
To be the Propagators of all evil,
Incarnate Fiends, to Lucifer all, 'd,
And heirs to all his cruelty and pride:
From these, our James, devoted to the Cause
His Measures took, their Counsels were his Laws:
Our Sanguinary Laws, tho' few yet good,
And justly merited by men of Blood,
And those with milder penalties inforc't.
Were with a Prorogation indors't.
Those Laws, which Parliaments had made to live,
Were laid in dust by Grand Prerogative;
And Tests were useless grown, Dispensing Power
Disarm'd their Force, that they could strike no more.
Popery bare-fac't stalk't our injur'd streets,
Justled the Reformation where it meets,
And Cells of Mass under our noses grew,
And daring Priests did eagerly pursue
Their Patron's Orders with unbounded joy,
Or to deceive us Her'ticks, or destroy.
Dissenting Protestants they strove to please
And wheadle, by a short delusive ease.
Th' establish't Church trampled, against all Law,
And, Jehu—like, drove where they could not draw.
Whilst Renegado-Papists were preferr'd,
And had their King's peculiar Regard.
The Snare was laid, the pointed hour drew nigh,
Wherein our Name and Cause was doom'd to die.
Great were his hopes (who, when the Stroak was given
Claim'd for Reward a double share of Heaven)
To sacrifice in one brave funeral Pile,
The numerous HERETICKS of either Isle.
Nor could the Vastness of this damn'd design
The Limits of his Popish Rage confine,
But or'e the Ocean to this world it flew;
Reform'd America must suffer too.
That we were must'red in this bloody Roll
Our Suffrings tell (who then could us cajole?)
We, by Papistick wiles, may well believe
Were mark't a lingring Ruin to receive.
They grug'd that we should harmlessly possess
With Ease and Freedom this our Wilderness.
Which our religious Ancestors (who fought
God in a Desart Countrey) dearly bought.
Our Charter, which freely we had injoy'd
In three successive Reigns, is first made void;
Condemn'd for forged Crimes we never knew.
Nor at this distance could er'e answer to.
Condemn'd unheard; their fraud would not admit
A clear Defence and Legal; nor was't fit
In a Court where Astraea nere' did sit.
And thence were we annex't t' a Popish Crown,
By which we were design'd to be undone.
Then came a man to be our President,
As well against the Law as our Content:
But he, Alas, did only smooth the way
For a Superior Lord, who made no stay.
Soon came the Jersy Knight, crafty and Stout,
And for his Master s Interest cut out.
Soon did he and his Creatures let us know
Whence all our miseries were like to grow.
Knaves, Beggars, Papists form'd the triple League
Which carry'd on the ruinous Intreague.
We were not treated by th' insulting Knaves
As free-born English, but as poor French Slaves.
Taxes were rais'd, without Mercy, or Measure,
To keep us low, and fill our Tyrant's Treasure.
To MAGNA CHARTA we coul'd claim no Right,
Neither our own, nor English Laws would fit,
But such as by Distortion, and Abuse,
Would still advance the Plot to ruin us.
New Laws by a small shabby Juncto fram'd,
And then so surreptitiously proclaim'd,
As if they chose▪ Oh when were Laws so made!)
They rather should be broken than obey'd:
So, if we kept or broke them, 'twas by chance;
They made advantage of our Ignorance:
Strain'd their own Laws beyond their true Intent,
To our great Cost, Sorrow and wonderment.
All that we counted dear was made a Prize
To th' raging Lust and hungry Avarice
Of a few tatter'd Rascals from New-York,
More insolent than ever was Grand Turk.
Their debanch't tricks the harmless Countrey saw,
But vainly sought a just redress by Law.
The Law, which ev'n our smallest Trips could find
Distinguish't Friends, and in their Cause was blind.
Their Lust on Honour strange Excursions made:
Their Avarice did our Estates invade.
Our Lands, for which we to the Natives gave
Their own Demands these new-come Beggars crave,
Our Lands, which we had peaceably possess't
For Sixty years, they with strange flaws molest.
It would disturb our Father's peaceful Graves,
Saw they their poor Posterity made slaves,
Or knew our Lives or Liberties betray'd,
Or knew our Lands to forreign Foes convey'd.
Yet thus with grief might poor New-England cry,
We our own Lands with our own Coyn must buy;
And Patents take, or else some sordid Knave
Soon intercepts, and ne [...] but ask and have.
The Secretaries House of Office told
(And Courts of Justice) where our Rights were sold,
New Tricks they found, and Fetches with rare skill,
To bring more Grist to their insatiate Mill.
Money we paid, for what we could not know,
Except to Feed their ever-craving maw,
But never full, for fill we might, as well,
As soon the gaping mouthes of Death & Hell.
Law at a price, and Justice we must buy,
Each small Court-Officer gapes for his Fee,
Else Law would be deny'd, and Right delay'd,
Whatever Madam MAGNA CHARTA said,
Our Penal Acts their scores & hundreds slew,
Through cursed aid of an informing Crew.
These in our hated Courts did boldly tread,
Villains, who daily damn'd themselves for bread:
Rogues, who for mony (I in plainness think)
Would swear the Sun a bottle full of Ink.
These, Juries must implicitly believe,
And by their Testimonies Verdicts give,
The Sense of Thinking-men they must forego,
And, as the Court directs them, blindly do,
Else they're turn'd back, and for their honest Strife
Must forfeit the Conveniences of Life.
Juries were pack't out of their own vile lump
To serve a Turn, and turn them up a Trump,
Men of small Sense, and smaller Honesty,
Their knotty roguish Causes to untye.
From Freedom of Discourse our Tongues were mor'd,
For we were made Offenders for a word.
When, Mighty Prince, we of Your Landing heard▪
Tho Hopes & Wishes were on Tip toes rear'd
Yet we our Hopes could whisp'ring only tell;
And bold was he who dar'd to wish You well:
Him shall I style true Ben, who hither came,
To save his Life & an untainted fame;
Harris was he, whom Parliaments had known
T' have been by Popish rage & frauds undone,
Yet here he could not scape the Lion's Paw▪
Only for wishing well to WILLIAM of Nassau.
Our last great Grievance, which we could not bear
(With Grief we tell, and Oh, with Pity hear!)
Was a perplex't mysterious Indian-War,
For which with mighty Forces we prepare.
We, who a Hundred, in the dayes of yore
Could beat a Thousand Indians and fight more,
An Army now a thousand strong must send,
With a poor Handful Hundred to contend;
In horrid Woods where no Provision grew,
Sneaking moneths after moneths to ly perdue.
Our Officers were Popish men of blood,
Whose Principles could nere consult our Good.
Our Scatt ring Foes but seldom came in sight,
Or if they had, we had no power to fight;
No War was ere proclaim'd; what could we do?
We dare not kill, the Law would then pursue.
Mean time a tedious Winter past our head,
Our Suffrings such, we envy'd ev'n our dead.
And they not few by sore Diseases went.
Hunger and Cold, and how could this content?
And thus things stood, and thus the Plot went on,
From earth to root our Her'tick Nation
Here, and in our beloved Native Isle;
Till Heaven on us cast a propitious smile;
Piti'd our wrongs and on their Counsels frown'd,
And rais'd a man their Empire to confound.
'Twas YOU, Great Sir, whom Heav'n did elevate
To make more famous this our Eighty Eight
Than that wherein brave El'sabeth did quell
The jointed pow'rs of Spa [...]n & Rome & Hell.
YOU, us with gallant Forces did Invade,
(by long Successes formidable made)
Our wishes join d and met our hearts half way,
Whilst Terror seiz'd our popish foes that day.
One bloodless month our happy Nation freed
From popish Plots, by which we fear'd to bleed;
Pounded a crew of mercenary Knaves.
Jesuits & Priests, tools us'd to make us Slaves.
Frighted our stubborn King, who would not part
From his dear Bantling, nor his Bigot-heart.
Conven'd our Countrey's Representative,
By whose sage Counsels we now hope to live.
This hearing, by Your great Example sway'd,
A just Attempt opprest New-England made,
Not to revenge our wrongs but set us free
From arbitrary Power and Slavery:
This did Heav'n bless, and on our Action smile,
Befool'd our foes, and brought them to the Toyl.
Sir, Your Protection we hope and crave;
Condemn not the Success Your Courage gave.
For this our Songs shall Your brave Triumphs meet,
Laying our Lives and sorunes at Your Feet:
For this Your Name will consecrated be
In English Hearts to late Posterity.
May still Success Your great Atchievements crown!
Go on to Conquer, as You have begun.
BOSTON, Printed for and Sold by Benjamin Harris at the London Coffee-house.