A most ioyfull songe made in the behalfe of all her Maiesties faithfull and louing subiects of the great ioy which was made in London at the taking of the late trayterous conspirators : to the tune of O man in desperation / [by] T.D.

A most ioyfull Songe , made in the behalfe of all her Maiesties faithfull and louing Subiects : of the great ioy , which was made in London . at the taking of the late trayterous Conspirators , which sought oportunity to kyll her Maiesty , to spoyle the Cittie , and by forraigne inuasion to ouerrun the Realme : for the which haynous Treasons , fourteen of them haue suffred death on the 20. & , 21. of Sept. Also , a detestation against those Conspirators , and all their Confederates , giuing God the prayse for the safe preseruation of her maiesty , and their subuersion . Anno. Domini . 1586. To the tune of : O man in desperation .

OH Englishmen with Romish harts , what Deuil doth bewitch you , To séeke the spoyle of Prince and Realme , like Traytors most vntrue . Why is your duetie so forgot , vnto your Royall Quéene , That you your faith and promise breake , O viperous broode vncléene . Blessed be God who knew your thought , and brought your treason out : And your destruction now hath wrought that made vs so in doubt . For if you might haue had your willes to make your bloudie day , Many a widowe and fatherlesse childe , had then cryed wellaway . Many a Citie had béene sackt , whose houses had béene firde . Yea , many a Peere had lost his life , these fruits you all desirde , But now fourteene of you haue felt , that death you haue deserued , And God ( in mercie ) from your hands , our prince and vs preserued . And would you séeke your Countries spoyle , your Mother and your Nurse , That fostred you and brought you vp , what treason may be wurse ? Why is your false and poysoned harts , surprised with such hate , That you must néedes by forraigne power , suppresse your happy state . Why doo you beare such foolish loue vnto the Ragges of Rome , That you would séeke swéete Englands spoyle , and Princes deadly doome , Will nothing serue your deuillish turne in this your deadly strife , But euen the blood of your good Quéene , and her to reaue of life . Doo you not know there is a God , that guides her night and day , Who doth reueale her foes attempts , and brings them to decay , O wicked men with Tygers harts , nay Monsters I should say , That séekes to spoyle so good a Quéene , as none the like this day . Her tender loue , procures your hate , her mercie makes you bolde , Her gentle sufferaunce of your pride , presumptuous vncontrolde , Doth make you to forget your God , your selues and dueties all , Whereby you bend your busie braines to mischiefe and to thrall . Know you not who her highnes is ? King Henries daughter déere , The mightiest Monarche in his dayes , or hath béene many a yéere : She is our Prince and soueraigne Quéene , annointed by Gods grace , To set forth his most sacred word , his enimies to deface . Haue you not holy scripures read , how byrds with fluttering winges , A Traytours thought they will betray against annoynted Kinges , God will no secret treason hide , against a wicked Prince , Much more , for safety of the good , their foes he will conuince . Therefore you cruell cankred crue , why séeke you mischiefe still , For to attempt with violent handes , Gods chosen for to kill . How dare you once in hollow hart , thinke ill of such a Quéene , Whom God himselfe doth fauour so , as like was neuer séene . Haue you such wicked hatefull hartes , in thirsting after blood , That with false Iudas you can beare , two faces in one hoode ? Too often hath her Maiesty behelde without mistrust , The outwarde smiles of Crokadiles , whose harts were most vniust . O liuing Lord who would suppose that vnder veluets fine , Such cankred poyson should be hid , as hath béene found this time . Is this the precious faithfull fruite , which doth from Papists spring ? Are these the workes whereby they thinke Gods Kingdome for to win ? Is not their gréedie thirsting throates yet satisfied with blood ? When as it streamde downe Paris stréets , much like to Nylus flood . Or are they not yet dronke enough , in quaffing bloody bowles , But looke they for a second draught among vs English soules . O England , England yet reioice , thy God beholdeth all , And he hath giuen for euermore thy foes a shamefull fall . By him all Kinges and Princes raigne , he giues them life and breath , He hath set vp and will maintaine our Quéene Elizabeth . The secret drift and ill intent , of her late hatefull foes , Vnto all faithfull Subiects ioyes , the Lord did well disclose . Yea many Traytors false of faith , through his most mighty power , Are taken in most happy time , and sent vnto the Towre . Which happy sight for all to sée , did glad eche Subiect true , And many thousands ranne apace , those Caytiues vile to viewe . Whom when the people did espie , they cryed lowde and shryll , There goe the Traytors false of faith , which sought our Quéene to kill . There goe the wretched wicked ones , her Citie meant to spoyle , And murther all her Citizens , but now they haue the foyle . There goe the enimies of the Realme , did thinke to ouerrunne All England : to let in the Pope , but now Gods will is doone . God sent them now their due deserts , as they in hart conspyrde , To take away our gracious Quéene , and Citie to haue fyrde . God graunt we neuer liue to see , that dismall day to haue , Who blesse our noble Quéene and Realme , and eke her Citie saue . And thus the people still did cry , both men and women all , And children yong did shout alowde , and Traytors Traytors call . Yea thousands trudging to and fro , to méete them still did runne , And some stoode fasting all the day , till that day light was doone . To sée these Traytors taken so , their harts for ioy did spring , And to declare this perfect ioy , some ranne the Belles to ring . The Belles I say did brauely ring , that day and all the night , And throughout stately London stréetes reioyced euery wight . And when the day was past and gone , and that the night drewe néere , The worthy Citizens many a one , prepared their good cheare . And Bondfyres did they merely make , through all the stréetes that time , And in the stréetes their Tables stoode , prepared braue and fine . They came together ( gladly all , and there did mery make , And gaue God thankes with chéerefull hates , for Quéene Elizabeths sake . In solempne Psalmes they sung full swéete , the prayse of God on hie , Who now and euer kéepes our Quéene from Traytors tyranny . But when our noble gratious Quéene , did vnderstand this thing , She writ a letter presently , and seald it ●●th her Ring . A Letter such of royall loue , vnto her Subiectes eares , That mooued them from watry eyes , to shed forth ioyfull teares . O noble Quéene without compare , our harts doth bléed for woe , To thinke that Englishmen should séeke , thy life to ouerthroe . But here wée humbly do protest , oh gracious Quéene to thée , That Londoners will be loyall still , whilst life in them shall be . And all that would not gladly so , spend forth their dearest bloode , God giue to them a shamefull ende , and neuer other good . And Lord with hart to thée we pray , preserue our noble Quéene , And still confound her hatefull foes , as they haue alwayes béene . FINIS . T. D.