A collection of 86 loyal poems all of them written upon the two late plots viz, the horrid Salamanca plot in 1687, and the present fanatical conspiracy in 1683 : to which is added, advice to the carver : written on the death of the late L. Stafford : with several poems on their majesties coronation, never before published / collected by N.T.

POEMS . THE WAKING VISION ; OR , REALITY in a Fancy . AS I was walking , reading in a Book , Of all the Plots that Hell had undertook , Methought I heard a sudden murmuring Rout , And cu●ious to behold , I fac'd about ; When soon the Croud did to my sight appear , With a young Hero stalking in the Rear . Their Leader was an old man , known too well By that false traiterous name Achitophel : He fac'd about , and waving round his Wand , The cringing Rout stood still upon 's command . Lieutenant Absolom forsook the Rear , And strutting forward , did i' th' Front appear . Thus fixt in their Array , the first that broke The silence , was Achitophel ; who spoke With roaring voice , and visage most austere , When to his Eccho all the Rout gave ear : All big with expectations , till the bold Snake-like Achitophel this story told . I need not tell you of the case betwixt ye , If you remember Forty eight and Sixty : How happy were we in the first of those , When no man durst our Laws and Wills oppose ; Wills as obliging as the Persian Laws ; We fought , and prosper'd in the good old Cause : None durst oppose our Faction , or appear In vindication of a Cavalier . Then all our Party in one humour stood To bleed the Nation , tap the Royal Blood . Till envious Death at last did basely trip Old Noll up with his short Protectorship . Then turn'd the Game , and Monk began to sing In Loyal tone , Now Boys a King , a King ! Against our wills he did by force restore The King to that which was His Right before ; Then all those plaguy Rogues call'd Cavaliers , Began to peep abroad , and shake their Ears ; Each one expecting from the King to be Rewarded for his Truth and Loyalty . When thus we saw our Plots go down the wind , We chang'd our Note , and spake in other kind . And made the World believe 't was only We Restor'd the King to Crown and Dignity : When if we could but still have been obey'd , No Stuart e're had Englands Scepter sway'd . But since what 's done can't be undone again , Why stand we idle , gazing here in vain ? Let 's try our wits , and Plot for to obtain , And play the Old Game over once again : Do as our Fathers did , come , play our parts , And let the people know you're English hearts That are not given to change . — Eighty one offers us a mark as fair , As ever Forty did : come ; — strike ; — prepare , Take Oaths of Secresie , and Covenant To ease the Nation of her groans and want . ( Right and Religion , Liberties and Laws , ) Will make the Rout quickly espouse our Cause : Tell 'em if they don't stir they 're quite undone ; Religion's ruin'd , Liberties are gone : Perswade 'em that the Pope and Popish Train , Are just returning to the Land again : That 's a pretence ne're fails , but always takes , And of a Bad Old Cause a Good One makes . Now , now 's the time ; strike up , for if you miss , You 'l never meet a time so pat as this . Here 's Popish Plots discover'd and found out , With Fears and Jealousies to charm the Rout ; And soon perswades them all their Lives are lost , That they must burn like Martyrs at a Post , Unless they get the Popish Party quell'd , That are by Evil Counsellors upheld : Here 's Grievance upon Grievance : these are Knaves , And those would make the free born Subjects Slaves : Tell them the King 's a Tyrant , and Oppressor , And that we have a damn'd Popish Successor : The Parliament's Disolv'd , and we must be Govern'd by Arbitrary Tyrany : But yet be sure to keep you in the shade , And do what e're you do in Masquerade . If any Senator against you sit , Be sure to call him Papist , Jesuit , Mac-Tory , Protestant in Masquerade , That would your Liberties and Rights invade . Now one word more , and I have spoke enough , Go fall to work , for I have found you stuff . Which having spoke , the Rout were jogging home , But soon return'd at voice of Absolom ; Who with andacious tone cry'd hark , my friends , Come side with me , if you 'l attain your ends ; Achitophel shall change , and take the Rear , And I my self will in the Front appear ; And good old David soon shall know that I Will be his Heir , or else I 'll bravely die . What though my Mother was his Concubine ? The fault was hers , I 'm sure it was not mine : I am his Son , and from his Loins did spring : I am of Royal Blood , and will be King : Do you but help me to obtain the Crown , I 'll rule by Law , and all your Foes put down ; I 'le part the King and Council quite asunder , And will redress the Griefs you labour under : If once I can but to the Throne attain , I 'le grant New Charters , and the Old maintain . At which the Rout with hollows fill'd the Skies , And cry'd , We 'll venture all for Liberties : When suddenly the Rout did disappear , And all the Coast was in an instant clear . Then I began to think which was the worse , Fanatick Blessing , or a Popish Curse : I put them in two Scales to try their weight , And found the Ballance equi-ponderate ; But holding them a while , I quickly found As this was hoisted up , that kiss'd the ground : Then suddenly I found the meaning out ; This ruins quickly , but that round about . Then to my mind my thoughts began to sing , Go haste , and what thou 'st heard inform the King : I durst not go , but presently I wrote , And seal'd it up , and sent the King this Note .

To the KING . DRead Sir , if you will Rule this Land in peace , Expel your Foes , and Friends will soon increase : Your Ruine does , Sir , too too plain appear , Rome leads the Van , Geneva brings the Rear . If you 'l be safe , you must expel them both , The Roman Gnat , and the Dissenting Moth : And vigorously let them understand , You are their King , and will like King command . And if you e're expect to gain your Ends , As well as open Foes , take heed of Friends ; I mean a flatt'ring Friend , whose only shew Makes him a Friend , but really is not so . Learn by your Father , not to trust to those That in the end will prove confiding Foes . Consider on 't , you 're in a woful straight , Think but on Forty one , and Forty eight . I only speak this for a Precedent , For Heav'n I hope will all such things prevent . You 're now the Darling of all Loyal hearts , And may be still , if you will take their parts : But if you bear with Faction , or with Rome , And do delay to give them both their doom , All Loyal men must suffer by those two , And be in spight of ●ate undone with You. You must be sure to ruine both , or none ; If one remain , you 're sure to be undone : For if you ruine Rome , on equal scores , To shut the Window , but leave ope the Doors ; Vnless you ruine the Fanaticks too , For know one Nation can't hold Them and You. Those men I fear against your Life combine , That strive to cross you in your good design ; And those men sure would yield to put you down , That tell the People . You are not their own . Pardon me , Sir , if I your quiet break , For Poets dare at all Adventures speak .

The Deliquium : or the Grievance of the Nation discovered in a Dream . FRom evenings Coffee , lac'd with long Argument Of the Kings Power and Rights of Parliament , And hot ▪ brain'd Company , who make it their Vocation , Waving their own , to mind th' Affairs o' th' Nation ; Whose noddles for these many months have been Hatchers of Grievances , unfelt , unseen ; Ill-manner'd Fools , whose ignorance is Hate , They understand not , therefore blame the State . Their real grievance is their want of sense , Beasts in all things , but in Obedience . Cloy'd with their noisy Cant ( in equal plight Of laughter , scorn , and grief ) I bid good night : Troubl'd to think of Englands Grand Disease , Groaning with th' burthen of such Sots as these ; To bed I went , where restless long I lay , Despair'd of sleep , and waiting for the day : Lord ! ( said I ) must our Monarch ne're have rest ? The more indulgent , th' more he is opprest With Fools that know not , think not what they want ; Their desire Granted , they 'l soon cure the Grant : Yet the King 's still in fault ! methinks I see Tears flowing down the Cheeks of Majesty . If I am troubled , how much more is He , Who bears the burthen of their Calumny ? Thus lay I 'long , my Soul quite spent with Sighs , When sleep insensibly stole o're my Eyes . From lump of Flesh unchain'd , methought my Soul Through dark unwholsom Foggy Mists did rowl ; Horrour increasing still , methought I came To the dire Mansions of Eternal Flame , The Gates of Brass transparent were , and thence Flew Azure flames with smoak of nauseous stench , With a confused noise of Howls and Groans , Such as would melt ( if any thing can ) the Stones . The horrour quell'd my Spirit , that I stood 'M z'd and insensible as Stone or Wood , Till by a Friend reviv'd ; cheer thee , quoth he , This place as yet is not design'd for Thee . He led me through the Gates , where lo , a place , Larger than all this lower Worlds vast space , The torments gave some light ( else dark as night ) A pale bituminous discoulor'd Light , Millions of wretched Souls my Fancy view'd , Weltring in flames , with Pitch and Brimstone strew'd . Just at the Gate th' Infernal Senate sate ; For know , that Hell 's no Kindom , but a State ; A Democratick State ; for it affords ( As I was told ) no King nor House of Lords : Tho' Lucifer's a kind of Prince , he sate But Chair-man , or rather Speaker to the State ; A Troop of Ghastly Fiends surround his chair , All which of a Select Committee were , Who ( having plaid their Devils part so well ) Had been Elected Burgesses of Hell : Two who were lately to Vtopia sent , Stood now for Members of the Parliament . O Yes , was strait proclaim'd ; appear , appear , You that are Candidates ; Mighty Lucifer Assures his Vote for him who merits best For his Utopia Service ; All the rest To Lucifer with formal Bows submit ; They would consent to what His Grace thought fit . Python appear'd ; Great Sir , said he , since I Went with this Honourable House's Embassy T' Vtopia , I ha' brought that Realm to be ( An 't please Your Grace , ) in all Conformity To your desire ; But first I must confess Letters of Credence from his Holiness ( Your Grace's Correspondent ) I procur'd To some Lords there ; whom I before Insur'd By my Ignatian Friends ; O! they 're a Crew Of the most hearty , diligent and true , Zealous unwearied Boys , to propogate What may conduce to th' good of this our State : Had they but cunning equal to their will , This place with humane Souls they 'd quickly fill ; You 'l need no other Fiends : These did my work , And privily about the Realm did lurk : Some ign'rant Bigots they engag'd , and some Only with th' pleasing pride of Martyrdom ; Some by Ambition's Bait were finely caught , All things at once boldly to venture at : But I confess , though all my Art I try'd To bring the Great Almanzor to our side , I fail'd ; but then I got it buz'd that He Would soon make one in the Conspiracy ; This tickl'd , and engag'd them in that Plot Which by th' Vtopians ne'r will be forgot . In short , This Honourable House knows well How I 've deserv'd a Burgess-ship in Hell ; If not , we 've some Jesuits here can tell . Then through the House a murmuring Applause Shew'd that they all inclin'd to Python's Cause . When Syphax , th' other Candidate appear'd , Great Sir , said he , I hope my Cause ( when heard ) Will gain your suffrage ; Mighty Sir , you know M'Opponents method was a while ago Us'd by Cantarogax , Your Agent then To th' same Realms , tho' but in vain ; since when Others with like Effects have us'd it ; I Us'd the experienc'd Rule , Presbytery : This was the method , Mighty Lucifer ! That brought ten thousand Rebel Souls a year For twenty years together to this place , For Python's part , an 't please your Grace , He hatch'd a Plot I must confess ; but what Effects did this his so much talkt of Plot Produce ? Why 'faith he e'en sent here no more Than those who were Your Grace's own before . For my own part , I to the House will give Of all my Actions a short Narrative . In grave and comly Hypocritick Dress , Bearing the outward form of Godliness , I cloath'd my self , and to Vtopia went , Haunted the City , Court and Parliament ▪ And in short time pick'd up a numerous Crew Of all Religions , every Sect a few : I made all those my own who took great pains To make their seeming Godliness their gains : All those who use Religion for a fashion , Or seem to thrive by th' ruine of the Nation ; All who 'd at Court their expectations crost , Or by ill manners had Preferments lost : All those who were engag'd in the late Broils , In the King's Death and the three Nations Spoils , And had this King 's late Act of Grace abus'd By their unnatural Ingratitudes : All who had lost their Games , and now would fain , For their own turn , have the Cards dealt again , I found one fit at last to steer these right , A Favourite of theirs , a much fam'd Wight , Capricio call'd , and thereby hangs a Tale , Meager his Visage is , his Face as pale As his Deeds black ; Dame Nature sure design'd That by his out-side men might know his mind , Hell 's in his Body , and his shrivl'd Skin Seems dropping from his rotten Bones within : His Corrupt Tortur'd Body does convey Fresh spleen and rancour to his Heart each day ; Which lest it shou'd o'reflow , or by mishap , Be over-charg'd from Sun or Fleece , a Tap Is in his Body fixt , with curious Art , Which from his double Envy-canker'd heart , By pumping , does exhaust th' exundant Juice , Reserving still enough for 's daily use . With this half Fiend I many Consults had , And we at last this Resolution made , Almanzor's due Succession to oppose , Among his many unprovoked Foes We chose young Marcion , not for any love , But to undo the Youth , as time will prove : Poor easie Prince , he littte thinks that we Prostitute this his weak Credulity To our own use , to Anarchize the State , And hasten his two soon intended Fate : Disgusted Lords we got some two or three , To put their helping hands to Anarchy . Amongst the rest one Libertino nam'd , Of him I must confess I was asham'd , His vicious Life did much disgrace the Cause ; But 't was enough his hate to King Church , Laws And Goverment in general , drew the rude Unthinking , Jealous , Headlong Multitude To esteem him so that he this Title bears , One of the Protestant Utopian Peers . With these in close Cabals sometimes I past , And forg'd a feasible Design at last : 'T was thought without some provocation 't were Not fit our Cause in publick should appear : I pitch'd upon a Rogue , the truth to tell , Has not his Fellow even here in Hell , Among our Crew we forg'd a Plot , which he First brought to light ; A Re-discovery He made as soon , swore to , and was believ'd , Then our good Party found themseves aggriev'd And cry'd aloud These Tories , Brethen see ; Behold , we say , the Lords Delivery . This was some Bishop sure , or Masquerader . Soon after this a Son accus'd his Father ; Forward and backward swears , at last he vows , Sir , He was subborn'd by that same Papist Towzer . Things went on well , & now they thought 't was time , The Ladder of Rebellion they should clime : The Senate sate ; High for the Good Old Cause , Magna Charta , and Fundamental Laws , No Arbitrary Power , but we must give Necessary Limits to Prerogative , Tho' the King mayn't , yet We may break the Laws , Punish at pleasure , though without a Cause ; Then must Almanzor be excluded ; He Has too much Spirit , too much bravery ; They must and will have presently Redress , Of a long Bead-roll of Grievances . And these are such as the K. won't , nor can't , Nature and Conscience will not let him grant : If not , no Money , Sirs , what e're come on 't ; A Fig for Foreign Foes , so the K. want . Councellors must be tax'd , and most of all Hali , whom they had nought to charge withal , But only 'cause he could discern the weather , And judge when Elements would clash together ; They do not think it safe that any Lord That has but sense , should sit at Council-Board ; Those that sit there should in their Foreheads have Their Beast-ships mark of either Fool or Knave ; Who lov'd the K. was Voted straight to be Betrayer of the Subjects Liberty And their old long-lov'd Darling Property . Capricio tells them next , they want a Prince Fit to be trusted with the Rule ; and since The present King 's not such , they think 't were fit That they be trusted both with Him and It. In short , I 've brought that Kingdom , now of late , In all Conformity so near our State , That whosoever sees both , will surely Swear 'T is an exact true Pattern of This here . Then such loud shouts from all the Senate came , That I awak'd , and found it but a Dream .

SEJANUS : Or the Popular Favorite now in his solitude , and Sufferings . IS this thy Glory now ? is this thy Pride , Of sticking to the Saints , and Godly side ? Religious bugbear words that fright from hence From Subject , all their Loyalty to Prince , Make black Rebellion , seem white Innocence ; Entitle Heaven , to the vilest Crimes , Make Deity , like th' Rabble , blame the Times . Mad Zealots ! so Atheistically civil , Baspheme the Gods , to Complement the Devil . The mightiest of the inspir'd Saints , is come To Crown himself with fancy'd Martyrdom : Geneva Whig , that still cries out at Rome , But raises still Domestick Broils at home . How quietly Great Charles might end his Reign , Which all in troubles the poor Prince began , Now vext by Ghost , meer shadow of a Man : The cunning Hypocrite , that still can spy The smallest Mote in his kind Prince's eye , By Zeal , and Nature , made so double blind , That in his own the Beam he cannot find : Some say but one vast Luminary stands In 's surrow'd brow , and watches all the Land ; But sunk into its hole , crept out of sight , As if it were afraid to see the Light , His Skull 's too narrow Circle can't contain His Tow'ring thought , & vast Gygantick brain ; Blinded again with hopes of Reformation , Poor little Poliphemus of the Nation ; That mighty Monster brav'd the rising Floud , And this can wade thro' a whole Sea of Blood . How hath this wretched Isle been chang'd , and curst , Since thou wert born , and since it knew thee first ! How did its Tributary Rivers pay A bloody , dreadful Homage to the Sea ! Whilst on the Purpl'd Ocean thou didst ride , And tack about still with the Wind and Tide : This floating Bark , he now again would Steer , Ah! treacherous Pilot , and false Mariner ; The Kingdom 's yet scarce mended Hulk to save , Would launch again into the Purple wave : Religious Bully ! that can cheat a Nation , And make it perish , working out Salvation . Three Kingdoms he o'relooks , & soon can count The Tories all , from Barwick , to the Mount : S●●●● Cities , Shires , to find what each afford ; Calls this Tantivy , that Protesting Lord : Sees what grave Noddle's for Caballing fit , And who are Bromigens of Sense and Wit . These are the faculties of Soul and Mind , And here his Body as compleat you find ; From 's liquid Corps , distills a fleeting gore , And the whole Carcass , makes one putrid Sore . The better to Emit this flowing Sap , His Belly carries still a Tap , Through which black Treason , all its dregs doth strain At once , both Excrements of Guts and Brain ; But some will have his clear , thin Body pass For a refin'd sort of Optick-glass : Some make the polisht Fabrick of his Bone A glittering Skeleton of Specular Stone . Old Ovid's Muse from hence may take her flights , Her Argus only had an hundred sights ; This little Monstrous Corps , is Eye all o're , And the whole Body sees at every Pore ; Sees hatching Thought , meer Embrio of a Plot , Nay sees it oft before it be begot . But to say truth , his Opticks are but two : Yet more than Ovid's Centinel can do With 100 Eyes , that many things could view ; But this sees many hundred ways with two : So quick , so nimble , and such rolling Eyes , They watch each other , like two cunning Spies , Lest This declare for King , and That for People , For Cities Pyramid , or Churches Steeple . Poor turning , winding , weathercock of State , Set on the doubtful Pinacle of Fate , And now will turn again , if not too late . If well corrected for his Insolence , The little Spaniel fawns upon his Prince ; But once escap'd the Ax , or fatal Loops , Straight to the dull unthinking Rabble stoops , Pufft up with the vain blast of Vulgar breath , Thus small State-Urchins hurry to their death : So the kind Air with an officious blast , Tosses poor Bubbles , to the Clouds at last ; Dances the little Globe about the Skie , Then breaks the glittering Ball it fann'd so high . So Romes fam'd Darling once that govern'd all , With the inconstant Rout did stand or fall ; Th' obliged Camp , their General did Crown , Then dragg'd his ragged Carcass thro' the Town . Weak Fools ! that think they may securely flee On the loose wings of wild Inconstancy , Or on its Metaphor , the Mobile . Disgusted by the Rout ▪ this cunning Wight Runs cringing to his injur'd Monarch straight , Whose goodness is too ready to forgive , Faulty alone in suffering Him to live . Advanc'd to follow Mace , and wear a Gown , The Tony then saw Mutineers in Town , But now they all True Protestants are grown . Whilst he unto its Chambers can resort , There 's nought alas , of Popery at Court ; Clap the Prophetick Soul but in the Tow'r , It straight Divines of Arbitrary Pow'r . Now leaves the Rout , and then as soon as able , Leaves his good Prince , just as he left the Rabble . Who e're before saw such a little thing Contend with Monarch , grapple with a King ! Of Oyants o●t we read , that fought the Skies , Cu●t back the Thunder of the Deities ; But ne're of Pigmy Lord that did the same , A Lord that 's only fit to fight with Crane . This buisy Noddle of the Factious Crew , Not now distinguish'd by th' old northen blew , ( The Badge of upstart Whigs must still be new ) With his Green Bob in this new Senate sits , And round him all those Liv'ry-men of wits ; Some raze a name , and some insert a clause , Order their Bills themselves , & vote them Laws : With awful care some Scriblers penning be A Speech for Sister Scotlands Liberty , 'Gainst Lauderdale's unbounded Tyranny . There a young Scribe is copying out a Cant , Next morn for to be spoke in Parliament : Up starts an Hector , swears upon a Book , 'Gad you shall see we 'll exclude the Duke . This brings a Bill 'gainst Arbitrary Power , And That will send a Member to the Tower ; One Votes him to be Censur'd on his Knees , This cries Discharge , That , Let him pay his Fees : And in the little Club you fairly see , Of that great Senate an Epitomee . But now the mouth of this Young Rump is gone , The dissolv'd Members scatter in the Town ; Poor Tony's now confin'd , and like to write All that fierce Indignation can Indite ; His second Volume quickly will appear , The Tower always made Him Scribler . As below on some bright Meteor gaze , Poor Panick Fools admire a little blaze , Which once dropt down , regardless we pass by , As too vile object for our scornful Eye , The gazing Croud thus him in Lustre view , Caress , admire , and adore him too ; But once Eclips'd , or shaded in a Cloud , Away runs all the silly buzzing Croud . All thy past shifts will serve thee now no more , Or there is scarce another left in store : The Tempter his old Sorc'ress doth forsake , When once h' hath brought the wither'd Hag to Stake : When the glib changing Monster once was ta'ne ▪ And fetter'd in the cunning Shepherds chain , With all his wiles he never could escape , Tho' chang'd to Fish , to Dragon , and to Ape , And every minute put on other shape . Our sad distracted Albion gazing round , She saw no Foe , but still she felt a wound : The bleeding Deer thus trembling stands at Bay But can't find where the close hid Archer lay . As on the winding Banks , and watry Maze , Where fam'd Meander cuts his crooked ways , The lost confounded Traveller doth gaze . At last kind Fate , or Providence doth bring The poor despairing Soul unto the Spring : So some kind Angel , Genius to this Isle , Where peace , alas ! with thee could never smile Hath taught us now to make her flourish still , Shewn us the hidden Source of all her Ill. Reason the Plummet , Wit the Line shall be , Both stretcht to fathom , and to measure thee : Lead through the Labyrinth of all thy Tricks , All the wild Mazes of thy Politicks .

A Canto upon the Miraculous Cure of the K's Evil , perform'd by the D. of M. in 80. AS Popish Farriers use t' imploy In their own Trade the good St. Loy , The Saint to whom they have Recourse , As to Heavens Master of the Horse : To him they loudly cry for Mercy , On Ragged Colts that have the Farcy ; For For Hackneys Gall'd to him they Pray , And Drink dead Drunk upon his day : So to his Grace of M — Trots , A Filly Fole that had the Bots ; For still she knew , ( and 't was no News ) He kept the Mares , though not the Muse . But had you seen the Skittish Jade , You would have thought her Drunk or Mad ; For at first dash his Hand she seiz'd , Much was th' Ambitious Heroe pleas'd . So sweetly did Don Quixot Grin ; When the Maid Marrian of the Inn He thought was some Enchanted Queen ; Askt his Dead-doing Hand to Kiss ; But what White Devil danc'd in this ? Some Fly , some Rat , or Great old Pus , Or Spirit Mephostophilus ; Or Pug that Paracelsus wore In the Pomel of his Sword before ; Or Healing Virtue that as Rare is , Is sent His Grace by 's Aunt of Fayries , Who aids him thus in Hugger Mugger , So did Doll Common , Abel Drugger . Some sweaty Devil in his Palm , Transfuses Brine instead of Balm ; And Brine you know is good for th' Itch , In any mangy Dog or Bitch : Long in his Fist the Leprous Drab , Paddles and pores familar Scab . The Witch her Dam had set her Fancy Agog upon this Chyromancy ; To view each Line the Hag Importunes , And thus Young Gipsie reads his Fortunes . The men of Westminster shall pass High Votes in Honour of Your Grace ; No Prayers for fear of the Black-Rod , They 'l Vote ( I fear ) No King , No God . Great stickling there shall be for Two , Pillory'd Benjamin and You. What will you give me the next Spring , If then You are not Crowned King ? By Oates before we Reap next Crop , Oates in a Tub will Preach You up . So Sybel ended her vile Guessing , And each to other gave their Blessing ; But Oh! the Green sick Girls may boast , This Duke hath Cur'd them to his Cost ; Though now he cuts his Capers high , He may with False-staff one day cry , ( When Age hath set him in the Stocks ) A Pox on my Gout , a Gout of my Pox. Yet that Fat Knight with all his Guts , That were not then so sweet as Nuts , Though oft he boldly fought and winkt , Led Harry M — by Instinct ; Reveres a Buckram Prince of Wales , His great Heart quops , his Courage quails . The Lyon Rampant is too wise , To touch a Prince , though in Disguise : Much less a Prince so Kind and Civil , To touch a Kingdom for Kings-Evil . He means to make it ( for its Health ) A Common Whore , a Commonwealth . The stroaker Graitrix was a sot , And all his Feat-tricks are forgot ; But Duke Trinculo , and Tom Dory , Will be a famous Quack in story . Let every scabby City Cuckow , Fly into Your Hedge-lane to look You , If Seventh Sons do things so Rare . In You seven Fathers have a share . Shew us some more of these fine Mocks , Shew then Your Black Art , Your Black Box. 'T is thought you 've there some pure Receipt , Great Mountebank of our sick State . Your Zany , who this Cure reveals , Tell us in March Your Highness heals .

Tom Ross's Ghost to his Pupil . SHame of my Life , Disturber of my Tomb , Base as thy Mothers prostituted Womb ; Huffing to Cowards , fawning to the Brave , To Knaves a Fool , to credulous Fools a Knave , The King's Betrayer , and the Peoples Slave . Like Samuel at the Necromantick Call , I rise to tell thee , God has left thee , SAVL ? I strove in vain thy Infected Blood to cure , Streams will run muddy where the Spring 's impure . In all your meritorious Life we see Old TAAFS invincible sobriety . Places of Master of the Horse , and Spy , You ( like Tom H — d ) did at once supply : From Sydney's Blood your Loyalty did spring ; You shew us all your Fathers but the KING , From whose too tender and too bounteous Arms , ( Vnhappy he who such a Viper warms ; As dutiful a Subject , as a son ) ▪ To Your true Parents , the whole Town you run . Read if You can , how th' old Apostate fell , Out-do his pride , and Merit more than Hell : Both He and You were gloriously bright , The first and purest of the Sons of Light : But when like Him you offer'd at the Crown Like Him , your angry Father kick ▪ You dawn .

The Oxford Alderman's Speech to the D , of M. at His entrance into that City about September 80. STout Hanibal , before He came to Age , Perpetual Wars with Rome was sworn to wage ! You lead us to such Wars ; Oh happy We ! Great Prince ! You are a Soldier good as He : Though some will say , ( to give the Devil his due ) He was as good a Protestant as You. You to the Whore of Whores , the Whore of Rome , Devoted from Your own chaste Mothers Womb ; Though in the Schools of Jesuits true bred , You scorn'd to learn of them to write or read : A Protestant ! ( the more to be admir'd ) That never were Instructed , but Inspir'd , So unconcern'd from Popery You pass , No use of Vnderstanding in the Case . True Interest ( that all other things o'repowers ) And generous Indignation made You Ours : Even so in Spain to Mass come Trading Jews , Cast Drabs turn Quakers but to spite the Stews . But Fears and Jealousies of You we scorn , That are so true a Son of Honour born ; And since have made both Gog and Magog bleed , Act but the Demagogue , You 'l do the Deed : You 'l Damn and Ram proud Antichrist to Hell ; But force Him first to work one Miracle . He that with four hard words , and one Grave Nod , Turns an insipid Wafer into God ; Were You a Dough-bak'd Duke , with less ado , To Prince of Wales might Transubstantiate You. Do you but say 't , we 'l swear that You are so , And rather Kiss Your Hand , than Kiss His Toe : Resolv'd , Resolv'd , It must not be gain said ; Faith we 'l believe Your Mother was a Maid . Why should You think Ambition any Crime ? We 'll make You Duke of Venice in goodtime : Or , if You scruple to Vsurp the Crown ; Having once rais'd Vs , You may then sit down . You , or Your Friends shall have the foremost place ; Perhaps we 'll joyn Sir Armstrong with Your Grace : Whether You Reign , or He , it is all one , Great Alexander's Dear Hephestion . But when You come to Reap these goodly Fruits , Sweet Sir , remember these our Suits , First , Let these Lordly Bishops to Pot ; 'T is plain their Lordships all are in the Plot , They hold none lawful Heirs , but lawfully begot . Our Commonwealth's a Castle in the Air , If we Pray for King or Common ▪ Prayer . These Paltry Schollars , blast them with I breath , Or they 'l Rhime your Grace and Vs to death . Then O brave we ! then hey for our good Town ! Then up go we when Wit and Sense go down .

The Ghost of the late Paliament to the New one to meet at OXFORD FRom Deepest Dungeon of Eternal Night , The Seats of horror , sorrow , pains & spight , I have been sent to tell Your tender Youth A Seasonable and Important Truth ! I feel ( but Oh too late ) that no Disease , Is like the Surfeit of Luxurious Ease ; And of all others , the most tempting things , Are too much Wealth , and too Indulgent Kings . None ever was Superlatively Ill , But by degrees , Industry and Skill : And some , whose meaning hath at first been fair , Grow Knaves by Use , and Rebels by Despair , My time is past , and yours will soon begin , Keep your first Blossoms from the blast of Sin ; And by the Fate of my Tumultuous ways , Preserve your selves , and bring Serener Days . The busie 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 ; I 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 Illegally abus'd ! The Robe was summon'd , M — d in the Head , In Legal Murder none so deeply read : I 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 accumilative Hackney Tongue ; Prisoners and Witnesses were waiting by ; These had been taught to Swear , & those to Dye ; And to expect their Arbitrary Fates , Some for Ill Faces , some for Good Estates : To fright the People , and alarm the Town , Burnet & Oates imploy'd the Reverend Gown : But while the Triple Mitre bore the Blame , The Kings Three Crowns were all their aim , I seem'd , ( and did but seem ) to fear the Guards , And took for mine the Bethels and the Wards , Anti-monarchick Hereticks of State , Immoral Athiests , 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 Care . All that this Happy Island could afford , Was Sacrific'd-to my Voluptuous Board . In his whole Paradice One onely Tree He had excepted by a strict Decree ; A Sacred Tree which Royal Fruit did bear , Yet It in pieces I Conspir'd Tear ; Beware my Child ! Divinity is there . This so out ▪ did all I had done before , I could attempt , and He endure no more , My un-prepar'd and un-repenting Breath , Was snatcht away by the swift Hand of Death ; And I ( with all my Sins about me ) hurl'd , To th' utter Darkness of the lower World : A dreadful place where you too soon shall see , If You believe Seducers more than Me.

The Parliament Dissolv'd at OXFORD , March the 28th . 1681. UNder 500 Kings Three Kindoms grone : Go Finch Dissolve them , Charles is in the Throne , And by the Grace of God will Reign alone . What would the Commons have ? the Royal Line Heaven does dispose of ; 't is not Theirs , nor Mine , But His by whom Kings Rule , and are Divine . I represent the King of Kings , who gave The Crown , the Sword , the Scepter ; what I have ; I am Gods Servant , not the Peoples Slave . Their Frantick Votes , & Mad Resolves I hate ; I know a better way to heal a State , Than to Sin rashly , and Repent too late , Bid them be gone F. they are damn'd uncivil , To oblige Me to follow them to th' Devil ; To save Three Kingdoms I will not do Evil. The Presbyterian's sick of too much Freedom , Are ripe for Beth'lem ; it 's high time to bleed 'em ; The 2d . Charles does neither fear nor need 'em . I 'll have the World know that I can Dissipate Those Impolitick Mushrooms of our State , 'T is easier to Dissolve than to Create . They shan't Cramp Justice with their feigned flaws ; For since I govern only by the Laws ; Why they should be exempt , I see no cause . To the Laws they must submit ; 't is in vain E're to attempt to shake off those again ; For where Charles commands , there must Justice Reign . When the Peoples Father does espouse the Law , All those who Subjects from their Duty draw , Do Viper-like , through Parents Bosom gnaw . When they attend Me next , F. bid them bring Calmer thoughts ; bid them propose Legal Things ; Such as may both become Themselves & Kings . This will the Joys of our little World Compleat , And all attempts of Foreign Foes Defeat ; Making the People Happy , Monarch Great .

The RECOVERY . YEt once more Peace turns back her head , to smile , And take some pity on our stubborn Isle ; She and her Sister Truth now Hand in Hand , Return to visit our forsaken Land . I see , I see , O Albion ! Bless the Sight ! Truth ( long Eclips'd ) lift up her Sacred Light , And chase away the obscene Birds of Night . Th' ill boding Screech-Owl we so long did fear , Hov'ring above us in our thick'ned Air ; Whose fatal note was never heard , but Death Follow'd th' Infernal Evidencing Breath . Hail lovely Truth ! Oh! spread thy Rays Divine , And bid thy dawning Beams more fully Shine ; Already thy Glad Influence we find , And all now see , but they who will be blind : They see whilst thou hold'st up thy Guiding light , The dangerous errour of their Former Night ; A Night , which all our Heaven did invade , By the dire skill of State Magicians made : In a dark Cell the Wayward Brothers met , I' th' midst a Chair there was for Satan set ; Which in his Abs●●ce — — — A little wither'd Conjurer supply'd , And all his Imps drank Venom from his side : His word was ( then He out his Tap did pluck , ) Come my young Pugs of Treason , come and suck : This Hellish Rite perform'd , to work they go To raise up Darkness from the shades below ; Thick Mists of Popular Fears and Jealousies Did at their Necromantick Call arise , And in Black Clouds hid the British Skies . Here first their unskill'd Spirits the visions play'd , And learnt their Visions to the Hatfield Maid : Here first were rais'd the wond'ring world to The Armies Harris muster'd in the Air. But now the Charm's dissolv'd , & England's free scar , From the Enchantment , does its madness see ; See its vain fears of that expected day , No Royal Blood stain'd the Fifteenth of May : Prevailing Truth has open'd Britains Eyes , And Folly seen , begins to make her wise . O let us then Unite , make Faction cease , Nor think Confusion is the way to Peace ; That Schism must the Churches Fall prevent , Or breaking Law , secure the Government . Let Traytors to expected Tryal come , And from the mouth of Justice receive their doom : 'T is so , the Traytor comes , now , now maintain Justice thy Seat , nor bear the Sword in vain . Tho Hackney Speakers wou'd o're Law prevail , And Conquer Thee by telling a false Tale ; Though Factious or Guilty Lords appear , To blunt that Sword whose edge they justly fear ; Tho Garter Blue , and Star the Court should awe , But Oh! that Star does now its Beams withdraw ; Nor at the Tryal will its Light dispence , To cherish Treason with its Influence . What then are they who from thy hand would snatch The blackest Traytor Hell did ever hatch ? When they but once that Horrid Paper see , Which does almost exceed in Villany , Satan , or his Vicegerent Shaftsbury ; Who in this Cause so much had never done , But that he knew the ugly Brat his own . Yet all in vain strives Councellour and Lord , Revenging Goddess , speak the fatal Word ; Nor let Confession turn aside thy Blow , But once strike Rogues that own that they are so ; Had this been early done , t 'had sav'd the Guilt Of so much Blood so prodigally spilt ; While certain Villany did hurry hence , To unjust Death suspected Innocence . But Justice now in this Triumphant Scene , Thy Shame does end , and Triumph does begin ▪ All this to thy Defender Charles is due , Who now with Thee His Glory does renew ; Already with fresh Beams the Crown does shine , Power Sacred grows , and Majesty Divine , His Majesty's Scepter 's in His Hand held fast , Nor like a Reed is bent with every blast : Hold , hold Great Charles , this Resolution hold , And in thy own and Kingdoms Cause be Bold ; What ever of this mighty Body , Thou The Head resolv'st , We thy Hands will do ; Dare to be Happy , and to make Us so . How Great is Majesty , and how August ? How God like , when 't is resolutely Just ? Then 't is that Willing Subjects gladly meet , To throw their Lives before their Monarchs feet ; Then 't is their Fortunes they before him lay , Sue to be Rul'd , and Glory to Obey . Such Charles is now thy State , and such the Train Of these that now Petition thee to Reign ; See , even thy Prodigal Son does now desire , To leave his Husks , & Swine , & Wapping Mire , In which so long he wallow'd up and down , Known to each Dirty Kennel of the Town ; And to his injur'd Father , and his Lord , Would by his much wrong'd Vncle be restor'd : How well has Williams , Jones , and W — n , B—h , G — d , T T —y , their great Duties done ! How have they taught the People to Repent Their Zeal for their great Idol Parliament ? How have they shewn the Arbitrary way That Monster took to make us all its Prey ? They to lose all , claim'd more than was their Right , And strech'd their Power only to break it qui●e . These , these are they who have true service done , Meriting their Sacred Favours from the Crown : These , these have made a Dissolution be , Not Wisdom only , but Necessity . These thus remov'd our Jealousies and Fears , Were ever so Deserving Pensioners ! Then Charles , since all things now conspire to bless Thy peaceful Age with Conquest and Success ; Begin , Resolve , and Venture to be Great , Nor overthrow these vast Designs of Fate : Begin at home , purge thine own House , and free From Villains Tongues the Ears of Majesty ; False P—s from thy Bed-Chamber Discard , Let Catch-pole Br — s thy Crourt be bar'd , Nor leave one Factious R — l in the Guard .

A Panegyrick upon OATES . Silvestrum Tenui Musam Meditemur Avena . OF all the Grain our Nation yields In Orchards , Gardens , or in Fields , There is a Grain ( which tho 't is common ) Its Worth till now , was known to no man . Not Ceres Sickle 'ere did Crop A Grain with Ears of greater hope ; For why ? some say , the Earth ne're bore , In any Clime such Seed before . Yet this Grain has ( as all must own ) To Grooms and Hostlers well been known ; And often has , ( without disdain , ) In musty Barn and Manger layn ; As if it had been only good To be for Birds and Beasts the Food : But now by new inspired force , It keeps alive both Man and Horse : Speak then my Muse , for now we guess , What Grain it is , thou wouldst express . It is not Barley , Rye , or Wheat , That can pretend to such a Feat ; 'T is OATES , bare OATES , which become The Health of England , Bane of Rome , And Wonder of all Christendom . And therefore OATES has well deserv'd , From Musty Barn to be prefer'd , And now in Royal Court preserv'd ; — That , like Hesperian Fruit , OATES may Be Watch'd and Guarded Night and Day ; Which is but just Retaliation For having Guarded a whole Nation . Hence every lofty Plant which stands 'Twixt Barwick Walls , and Dover Sands ; The Oak it self , which well we stile , The Pride and Safe-guard of our Isle , Must Wave and Strike its Lofty Head , And now Salute an Oaten Reed . For surely Oates deserves to be Exalted far ●bove any Tree . Th' Aegyptians once ( tho' it seems odd ) Did Worship Onyons for a God ; And poor peel'd Garlick was with them Esteem'd beyond the greatest Gem. What would they done , had they , think ye , Had such a Blade of Oates as we ? OATES of such known Divinity ! Since then by Oates such good we find , Let Oates at least now be enshrin'd , Or in some Sacred Press inclos'd Be only kept to be expos'd ; And all fond Reliques else , shall be Deem'd Objects of Idolatry . Popelings may tell us , how they saw Their Garnet's Picture on a Straw ; 'T was a great Miracle we know , To see him drawn in little so , But on an Oaten Stalk , there is A greater Miracle than this ; A Visage , which with lively Grace Does twenty Garnets now Out-face , And Twig of Dodona's Grove E'en speaks as if inspir'd by Jove . Nay , to add to the Wonder more , Declares unheard-of Things before , And thousand Mysteries does unfold , As plain as Oracles of old ; By which we steer Affairs of State , And stave off Britain's sudden Fate . Let 's then , in honour of the Name Of Oates , enact some Solemn Game , Where Oaten Pipe shall us inspire Beyond the Charms of Orpheus's Lire ; Stones , Stocks , and every senseless thing To Oates shall Dance , to Oates shall Sing , Whilst Woods amaz'd to th' Ecchoes ring . And as ( that Hero's Names may not When they are rotten , be forgot ; ) We hang Atchievements o're their Dust ; ( A debt to their great merits just : ) So if Deserts of Oates we prize , Let OATES still hang before our Eyes ; Thereby to raise our Contemplation , OATES being to this Happy Nation The Mystick Emblem of Salvation .

An Epithalamium upon the Marriage of Captain William Bedloe . Ille ego qui quondam gracili modulatus Avena , Arma virumque Cano. — I , he , who Sung of humble OATES before , Now Sing a Captain and a Man of War . GOddess of Rhime , that didst inspire The Captain with Poetick fire , Adding fresh Lawrels to that brow Where those of Victory did grow , And statelyer Ornaments may flourish now . If thou art well recover'd since The Excommunicated Prince : For that Important Tragedy , Would have kill'd any Muse but Thee ; Hither with speed , Oh! hither move , Pull buskins off , and since to Love , The ground is holy that you tread in , Dance bare-foot at the Captains Wedding . See where he comes , and by his side His charming fair Angelick Bride : Such , or less lovely was the Dame So much Renown'd , Fulvia by name , With whom of old Tully did joyn , Then when his Art did undermine , The Horrid Popish Plot of Cateline . Oh fairest Nymph of all great Britain , ( Though thee my Eyes I never set on ) Blush not on thy great Lord to smile , The second Saviour of our Isle ; What nobler Captain could have led Thee to thy long'd-for Marriage Bed ; For know that thy all-daring Will is As stout a Hero as Achilles ; And as great things for thee has done , As Palmerin or th' Knight o' th' Sun , And is himself a whole Romance alone . Let conscious Flanders speak , and be The Witness of his Chivalry . Yet that 's not all , his very word Has slain as many as his Sword : Though common Bulleys with their Oaths Hurt little till they come to blows , Yet all his Mouth-Granadoes kill , And save the pains of drawing steel . This Hero thy resistless Charms Have won , to fly into thy arms , For think not any mean design , Or the inglorious itch of Coyn , Could ever have his breast controll'd , Or make him be a Slave to Gold ; His Love 's as freely given to Thee , As to the King his Loyalty , Then , Oh receive thy mighty prize With open Arms and wishing Eyes , Kiss that dear Face , where may be seen His Worth and Parts that sculk within ; That Face that justly stil'd may be As true a Discoverer as He. Think not he ever false will prove , His well known Truth secures his Love ; Do you a while divert his cares From his important grand affairs : Let him have respite now a while From kindling the mad Rabbles Zeal . Zeal that is hot as fire , yet dark and blind , Shews plainly where its birth-place we may find , In Hell , where tho' dire flames for ever glow , Yet 't is the place of utter Darkness too . But to his Bed be sure be true , As he to all the world , and You , He all your Plots will else betray , All ye She-Matchiavils can lay . He all designs you know has found , Tho' hatch'd in Hell , or under ground ; Oft to the world such secrets shew , As scarce the Plotters themselves knew ; Yet if by chance you hap to sin , And Love while Honour 's napping shou'd creep in . Yet be discreet , and do not boast O' th' Treason by the common Post . So shalt thou still make him Love on All Virtues in Discretion . So thou with him shalt shine , and be As great a Patriot as He ; And when , as now in Christmass , all For a new Pack of Cards do call , Another Popish Pack comes out To please the Cits , and charm the Rout ; Thou mighty Queen shalt a whole Suit command , A Crown upon thy Head , a Scepter in thy Hand .

Funeral Tears upon the Death of Captain William Bedloe . SAd Fate ! our valiant Captain Bedloe , In Earths cold Bed lies with his head-low ; Who to his last made out the PLOT , And Swearing dy'd upon the spot . Sure Death was Popishly affected , She had our Witness else protected ; Or down-right Papist ; or che Jade A Papist is in Masquerade . The valiant Bedloe , Learned Oates , From Popish Knives sav'd all our Throats : By such a Sword , and such a Gown , Soon would the Beast have tumbl'd down . They conquer like the Hebrew King , And Oaths at Rome's Golia sling ; And never take God's name in vain ; As many Oaths , so many slain . The stoutest of the Roman Band Could not their thund'ring Volleys stand ; But all those Missioners of Hell By dint of Affidavit fell . Great things our Heroe brought to light ; Yet greater still kept out of sight : And , for his King and Countreys sake , Still New Discoveries could make : In proper season to relieve , He still kept something in his sleeve , He was become , for England's good , An end less Mine , a wastless Flood ▪ Still Prodigal , yet never Poor ; No spending could exhaust his Store . But Eeath , ( alas ) ! that Popish Fiend , To all our hopes has put an end ; Has stopt the Course , and dry'd the Spring Which new Plot-tidings would bring . This Witness ( did the Fates so please ) Had sworn us into Happiness ? Made the Court Chaste , Religion Pure , And wrought an Vniversal Cure ; Sworn Westminster into good Order ; Reform'd Chief Justice and Recorder ; The Land from Romish Locusts purg'd , And from Whitehall the Chits had scourg'd ; Had judg'd the great Succession-Case , And sworn the Crown to the right place . ENGLAND ! thy mighty loss bemoan ; Thy watchful Centinel is gone ! Now may the Pilgrims Land from Spain , And ( Vndiscover'd ) cross the Main : Now may the Forty thousand Men In Popish Arms be rais'd agen : Black-Bills may flie about our Ears : ( Who shall secure us from our Fears ? ) Jesuits may fall to their old Sport Of burning , slaying Town and Court , And we be ne'r the wiser for 't . Then pity us ; exert thy Pow'r , To save us in this dangerous hour : Thou hast to death sworn many men , Ah! swear thy self to life again .

ANAGRAM and ACROSTICK On the Salamanca-Doctor , Anagram . TITUS OATS JUST A SOTT . WHen Adam proper Names on Beasts confer'd , The Salamanca-Doctor was it 'h ' Herd ; The Midwife , she foresam 't would prove a Dunce , So gave him Name and Character at once : Which but unfold , and joyn again with Art , Both Sott and Drunkard lurk in ev'ry part ; Nor is his Temper thus alone betray'd , 'T is on his Face in Ruby Signs display'd . Well may we doubt the Gospel of that PLOT , Whose chiefest Evidence is JUST A SOTT .

AN ACROSTICK . Trayter to God , damn'd Source of Blasphemy , Insect of Hell , grand Mass of Perjury ; Thorough pac'd Villain , second unto none , Vnless to Judas ▪ ( if by him out-done ; ) Satan's black Agent , Hells Monopoly , Of all that 's called Sin and Villainy : Acursed Parent of an Hell-bred Brood , Teacher of Lies , Spiller of guiltless Blood ; Englands dark Cloud , Eclipsing all her Glory ; Satan's Delight , and Hells Repository .

The Convert SCOT , and Apostate ENGLISH . 1. CLeveland ; thy Ashes ( sure ) will rise , The Scots , are Proselites become , Here were those Rebels in disguise ; And now thou wouldst reverse their Doom . 2. 'T was our Fanatick Presbyter , The Devils Factors made the Plot , By them misled , the Scots did Err ; When then thou call'dst , Apostate Scot. 3. The Proverb ; From the North no Good , Is now turn'd South , where Perjur'd Slaves Swear us to Goals ; and in a Flood Of Butchery , scarce give us Graves . 4. The Damned Crew of Angels fall , Whose Pride first mov'd them to Rebel , But you Incarnate , worst of all , Through Malice God and Man would Sell. 5. Devil to Devils all were true , But Man to Man ▪ no thought can reach , Nature would cease to be , if you Might cut off all you would Impeach . 6. The Laws construction doth lie In Judges Breasts ; the Letter kills ; Justice , such Evidence throws by , Whose lives are Infamous for Ills. 7. There 's seven of them , and seven more , Have Covenanted all with Hell , To make seven deadly Sins their Whore ; None ever knew her half so well . 8 , These Villains charge themselves with Crimes They have not done ? Damn'd Policy ! That what they swear at other times May be believ'd , though Perjury ! 9. To which a Pardon-being had , Then Hang who e're they will accuse ; And make the Raging Rabble mad , When any man for Justice Sues . 10. Reason is Witchcraft ; or else why Can any Man of Sense believe Such Basket-Crew , e're came so nigh To Courts and Councils to deceive . 11. Commissions , Armies , Fleets , and France , All this Intrigue discover'd be Oates , Bedloe , Dugdale , Dangerfield and Prance , Who can believe so strange a Lye ? 12. Did ever men sell their Belief To Goals and Pillories ? who yet Gives Credit to a Common Thief , Or Branded Rogue on mischief set ? 13. Plague of the Innocent , the Nations Curse , The hand of Heaven will cut down ; Since God made Man , none ever worse Pretended yet to save a Crown . 14. But these the Vulgar Hereling Slaves , The Bashaws use to Storm their Works , And raise themselves upon their Graves ; Such are our English ( Noble ) Turks . 15. Justice awake , Scroggs sit thou fast , Thou wert o'r rul'd by Perjuries : But Langhorn's Case urges thy hast , To clear fair Truth from Forgeries . 16. Now un-deceived , be just and bold , You dare enough , do then as well , And growing Good , as you grow Old , Ages to , come may your Justice tell . 17. Our Laws are founded , or should be , On the Laws of God , Who never Kill When they can Save ; and yet you see How Blood of Innocents we Spill . 18. The Law condemns a Priest to die , But Supream Law commands them no , That for their Lives they must not flie ; One of the two they must forego . 19. Our Faith in many points agree , Our Birthrights we may claim of old ; What is it then to any he If ancient Verity I hold . 20. Likely , you Err , for upward look , What ages past believ'd do I , And nearer to the Spring , the Brook Far distant , doth in Puddles die : If at the Fount , I Drink or Wash , The Christal Spring hath us'd no dash . 21. Hath Charity deserv'd to Die , Our Saviour Suffered for that ; We sometimes kill an Enemy , Not murther Friends for none knows what . 22. Our Laws receive their force from Power , And the Offenders forfeit Life ; Here 't is , where Law doth Law devour , And why , such Law , would end the Strife ? 23. Men long in Peace , deserving well From King and Country , now surpriz'd , And charg'd with Crimes , no age can tell , But those who have this Plot devis'd . 24. Now worthy Scrogs , your Brethren too ; Unbyass'd let your Judgements fall ; We dare the World , what they can do , May we have Justice , when we call . 25. Oh! Cleaveland , hadst thou liv'd this age , Thou couldst not Write , unless to Lie ; For none but Devils tread our Stage : Where speaking Truth , you surely Die For publick Good or Popery . 26. A King to Govern , or else none , A Linsey woolsey Government ; 'T is Rabble Property they own , And say 't is Law , or so 't is meant . 27. They stalk with one ambitions Fool , Affecting Popularity ; Make use of Him as a Close-stool , First fill Him up , then throw Him by . 28. The Monster Mobile , then Roars , Prepar'd by th' Mountebank of State , We 'll have no Fools , nor Sons of Whores , A Common wealth shall end their Date . 29 Nor King , nor Parliament , nor Laws , Kill all pretenders to the Crown ; Nor Lords , nor Bishop ; those Py'd Daws , With all adherents shall go down . 30. Then up go we , we 'll share the Land ; Too long they have usurp'd our Right : And now by turns , we 'll all command , And shew the World our last New Light . 31. Are we not good as Fisher-men ? Our Hogan-Mogan Neighbours now ; They were call'd Traytors ; and what then ? Their King that was , now does them allow . 32. They did Reform , it thriv'd , so good , God did intend what they should be ; They were inforc'd to let some Blood , ( As We ) to purge Idolatry . 33. Your Elders Laws have that vast scope , Preliminary to all Power ; Each in his Parish would be Pope , Like Baal's Priests all things devour . 34. These are your Saintships Rules of State , And Lueifer hath Lectur'd you ; All above you , ye Deadly hate , And would not God should have his due . 35. Must still the Van Religion , Led on by Lies and false pretence , Bring up the Rear Rebellion ; And blind your Reason without Sense . 36. Set up an Idol-Parliament Which with false Worship men adore , As if Religion were now meant , The House of Commons , Common-Whore . 37. The slights of Hocus not so plain , Though Cheats our sight , yet none believe , But Hocus still he doth remain , Through fine Conveyance in his Sleeve . 38. Thus Captain Satan leads you on ; Your Pride and Malice makes you Swell , Then Captain leaves ye all alone , You 'l find the way your selves to Hell . 39. Damn'd Hypocrites , Rebellious Race , In Power Impudent and Bold ; Pale Whining Cowards ; Face to Face Your Good and Hopes lyes in your Gold . 40. Short-sighted Fools , can your base Coin Corrupt that God who Kings protects , Or suffer you to break that Line , Which he hath made , and still directs . 41. 'T is not to cast down Popery , But by your counterfeited Zeal ; To raise New-Englands Anarchy , Devolving to a Commonweal . 42. Too long on Caterpillers , I Digression make ; but now to Men Whose Honour , in Antiquity Deserves to be reviv'd again . 43. Religion early there embrac'd By Race of Kings , Christians bold , Brave men at Arms , and not debas'd ; And now this Age revives the Old . 44 Now Sweet blows the Northern Air , Dispelling Mists , and no Clouds there ; The Rebel Covenant washed fair , No thoughts against an apparent Heir . 45. Brave Scots go on , a Braver man Ne're wanted yet Protection , Than our Great Duke of York ; what can , But This , merit Oblivion ? All that is past of Guilty Fact , Lies buried here , in this one Act. 46. None live Unblemish'd , or who not deceiv'd , Who ever Trusts unhappily May err ; If none must be believ'd , We must forsake Society . 47. Frailties to all men are allow'd ; We Plume not here on Angels Wings ; The weak or fearful in a Cloud , Cannot distinguish best of Things . 48. Repentance wipes out blackest Spots , If ye relapse y' are sick to death , Be henceforth call'd the Convert-Scots , This Covenant sign now with your Breath . 49. A Glorious occasion now Courts ye with opportunity : Let after-ages say of You When all men fail'd us , You stood by . 50. Your King , your Country , all their Friends Now need your Duty , and your Love , Bravely appear , and make amends ; Let 's Hand in Hand together move . 51. Down with your Kirk-Roost , Curb them so They cannot hurt ; take Sword in Hand , Defend your King from In-bred Foe . And York conduct you in Command . 52. The Law of Nature binds Mankind , And that Religion is so true , To give and take with equal mind , To God and Caesar , what is due . 53. Rouse then , Brave men , let the World see , What you dare do for Royal Blood ; Your Lives and Country are not free ; ‛ Less you maintain Monarchy Good . 54. But if ye fail , all Good mens Curse On you and your Posterity : May ye be Slaves , and what is worse , Beg Bread of your Presbytery .

A Postscript upon the D. of York's Return to Scotland . NOw York again Shines in our Sphere , A constant Day-light , true born Son ; Which doth forebode a Happy Year , Now finish what you have begun . 2. If your wild Spirit is , possest With Hellish Principles Rebel , And against Legal Power protest , Send them the shortest way to Hell . 3. For speedy Justice in a Storm , And Mutiny more Souls doth Save , Then slow Proceeding by Laws Form , Lost time , a Master 's made a Slave . 4. Examples made to terrifie , Makes men consider what they do ; where no Reprieve is , but must Die , Men are unapt t' engage that Foe . 5. Let your Great Council make an Act , And by that Act all Subjects Bind , To take an Oath , or else be Rackt , Till the Succession they have Sign'd . 6. Our Lofty Shrubs rais'd by the King , That on his Seat , Justice Out-face , Must tumble down , that no such thing Be ever nam'd ; but with Disgrace . 7. Ingrateful Brutes , baser than Slaves , The fallen Angels is your sin , Who for your Makers do dig Graves ; But in those Pits your selves fall in . 8. Foolish Achitophels ; his Fate Follows your Steps , and you must Die For the same Cause , and at the Gate , Where Treason 's joyn'd with Perjury . 9. The Protestant Religion Is the false cry , and common Cheat Of all your Atheism ; who have none , Nor will , till brought to Judgement Seat . 10. There by Confession purge your Guilt , Mercy may meet you at the Stage , Tell Godfrey's Death , and what Blood 's Spilt By your Designs , and peoples Rage . 11. Then , not till then , three Kingdoms may , In Unity give Praise to God ; And all good men rejoyce , and say , Charles's Scepter is like Aaron's Rod. 12. Then all true Subjects will obey , The wild ●anaticks will Conform ; Then all the World with Us will say , God Sav'd us in a mighty Storm . 13. If you deny , all thinking Men Conclude an Arbitrary Power , Design'd by You , to save you , when Y' are no where Safe but in the Tower .

The Mad-men's Hospital : or a present Remedy to Cure the Presbyterian Itch. OH , Happy Soyl ! unhappily possess'd , Your Natives now invade your sacred And that Religion we all profess'd , Must now by Extirpation surcease : Peace ; Our Laws are broken , Birthrights ta'en away ; Banish'd or Murder'd , Innocents betray . 2. This Hell-bred change , hath Reformation brought By bold Interpretation of Text ; What was believ'd , and our Forefathers taught , By new Dark-Lanthorn-Lights is now perplext New Governments set up , the Rabble see A way to Rule the Church , and Monarchy . 3. Oh , treble damn'd ! Rebels to God and King ! Who first Arms into the Roundheads hands , Taught them to know their Bruitish strength ; who bring A right of Levelling on all mens Lands : Like Hounds unhunted , left to their own Chase , Seize all that cross their way , Noble or Base . 4. They love the King , as School-boys Masters love , Let them do what they will ; how good a man , Correct them , he 's a Tyrant , none above Them , they admit , then govern them that can : Break up the School , a Commonwealth their cry's , Learning hath fool'd the World , and taught us Lies . 5. Thus in this wilful and presuming Age , Where Reason's blinded with Opinion , For current Truth , upheld by th' Peoples Rage , They spurn at Truth , and true Religion : Those Beast-like Rights , which greater beasts perswade , Are the false Opticks of their cheating Trade . 6. Poor Countrymen ! the whole worlds hate or scorn Led by a creeping Will o th' Wisps false Fire ; Like him to Malice , and to Mischiefs born , Leads you to perish in a poyson'd Myre : Pride made the Devil , what is 't made Thee so ? Malice ; so coupled , both together go . 7. But tell me yet , Mad-men have Intervals , What end do you propose , suppose your Plot Should take effect , that Palaces , and Halls , The King , the Duke , Lords , Papists , and who not Should in one ruine fall ; what will succeed ? Cutting of Throats , making each other bleed . 8. For Jesus Christ will not descend to Reign , You ( in his Members ) crucifie him here ; In time compleat , when he will come again , 'T will be to Your Confusion and Fear : Order supports the World , nothing can stand Without it ; Beasts have Order and Command . 9. Those very Sects , who now together joyn , Will then divide , and each their claim advance : This is the Truth I hold ; that Lorship 's mine ; 'T is false , 't is not , 't is for the K. of France : For when that one anothers Blood we draw , 'T is time a third should come to give us Law . Y' are on a Precipice , and one step more , Y' are lost ; return , for Judgment 's at your dore . 10. Recipe . Take but one grain of Faith from the Rock pure , And fix it fast to the right Anchor-stock , Mixt with the Oyl of Charity ; 't will cure , Apply'd to the Heart side ; Probatum hoc : This never fail'd , lasts while the World endures , Close kept ; and all Mankind's diseases cures .

Tony's Soliloquies . WHen the Plot I first invented , I was ravish'd in conceit , To see its frame so well cementeds Varnish'd over with Deceit . It was an Infant of my Spirit , Nay , the Darling of my Soul , If its contrivance be a Merit , By Jove the Cooper did well Boul. 2. For to give this Engine Motion , To arrive where it did tend , I fill'd the Vulgars ears with ' Notion , And Gospel of my Oaten Friend ; I anted●ted all Transactions , Distinguish'd Stiles of New and Old , In the State I made such Fractions ; Some I bought , and some I sold . 3. The Mobile I so distemper'd , With the Magick of my Care , None but wou'd his Soul have ventur'd Where brave Tony bore a Share ; Have I not in Abomination Held the Miter and Lawn Sleeves , And Itcht at a second Sequestration , To pull down such Ghostly Theeves . 4. Have I not taught the Sanhedrim To Imperate , and not Obey ? They had Genu-flection done to them , Which men to Crowned Heads do pay . Then would I Barter for Repeal O' th' Five and Thirtieth of Queen Bess , To make a way for Commonweal , ( The Centre of Our Happiness . ) 5. How many hot and high Debates , In favour of th' Exclusive Bill , I bandy'd 'twixt the two Estates , ( Th' effects of my depraved will ! ) By Subornation , to the Block I brought , a Loyal Noble Peer ; And trusted others to that Lock , Which cost my Buck and me so dear . 6. In fine , poor profligated Wretch , For to indulge my Minion Spight , My Seared Conscience I did stretch , And did Old Rowley's Guards Indict . I did espouse all Wickedness , And only lov'd what 's purely Evil ; In that alone was my Excess ; Then take thy own Associate ; Devil .

The Badger in the Fox-Trap , or a Satyr upon Satyrs . COmus nor Momus , now must be my Theam , My Muse must mourn in a more serious strein . Since I , who ne'r could write to humor Men , To humor Beasts , must now indulge my Pen. One April Evening , I alone did lye , In my Chamber Window , some three Stories high , To view the prospect of the welcom Spring , And hear Night's Choristers their Anthems sing . But all those Chanting Quire soon were scar'd , By a voice unhallowed , they and I both heard . The more the Calm , the more the noise increast , Voice like a Man , but call'd it self a Beast . With Hums , and Haws , and Groans did thus begin , Did ever God create so Vile a thing ! Internal and External Hoddy-doddy , A perfect Monster both in Soul and Body . Besides my Names and Titles are as Numerous , As all my Actions , various still , ( and Humorous ; ) Some call me Tony , some Achitophel ; Some Jack a-dandy , some old Matchivel , Some call me Devil , some his Foster-Brother , And Turn Coat Rebel all the Nation over . And some compare me to a sneaking Snail , Who keeps its Shell in storms of Wind and Hail . Some call me Hydra with a hundred Heads , And some a Monster all of Matchless Legs ; Others the Scab from whence the Infection Breeds Some call me Hedge-hog in a Prickly Skin , And that a treble Fiend is wrapt within . But a Badger now , caught by a Fatal snap , By th' longest Leg , within the Foxes Trap. Which here was laid for some such Animal ; When e're I 'm freed , I surely drop to Hell . The more I tug , the more the Spring doth bind me , Nay one tug more leaves all my Legs behind me , My Limbs and Sinues , are so feeble grown , That were I loose , I cannot stand alone , Each member doth each others grief bemoan . Tho' I from God deserve this punishment , Why should the Devil such a Friend torment , Whom I have ever took for my Protector , And for ten thousand Souls he is my Debtor . Can he at last a Treacherous Guardian be , As I 've been to all that trusted me . 'T is for his sake that I 'm Deform'd and Hist at , As Wizards all their Life ; like Rams-horns Twisted . But poor Devil , now perhaps suspected me , That I 'de Recant to get my Liberty . And therefure Hampers me in this Crampt Jail , That I have scarce room to wag my poor old Tail . Which I 'le ne're do , to gain three Kingd more , Than my Ambition , hop'd to make me sure , Who knows what Nick hath yet for me in store ? Poor Fi●nd , on me us'd to have tender Care , scar . And made me eminent in Peace & War , And yet I have Sense Children and Fools to By teaching Ben and ●ranck to Write great Lies ; How mighty Monsters quarrel in the Skies . Visions at Hatfield , either White or Green , Far more Prodigious than the Fairy Queen . To make them believe the Papists still are Plotting , Te cut the Throats o' th' Saints whilst they are Napping . And that they burnt the City down about us , As sure as I was ever Stout or Honest . And that they 'l endeavour for to do 't again , To lay the Land in universal Flame ; Tho' they themselves be stifled in the Steam . And how to make the Neighbours hate each other And for Revenge to Murder one another ; And to make a King to sell a Royal Brother . And to make the great ones like Pike in Pond , To Devour the Smaller over the Land . These are but pretty Symptoms of the Shams , When my Familiar gave but single Drams . But when for sickly State we do contrive , Oh! Roger , Roger ! Oh! my Dribling side ! Come bring a Spoon , before I am quite Spent , And from this Tap receive my Excrement . Why Roger , Harry , Tom , Will , Martha — Where 's all the Rogues and Bitches , some of you come forth a - The great Defluction of my Canker'd Spleen , The Scum o' th' poyson will not stay within , But drams from th' Conclave of declining parts , And quite obstructeth my Etherick Arts ; Well , I keep Currs , but I 'm the Dog that barks . Then he himself unbuckl'd , and let fly Venemous Extraction , till his Pump waxt dry . Which he perceiving , tug'd and pumpt the more Till all his Engines he in pieces tore , Then like an Ass , the Badger he did rore . He Snarl'd , and Curst ▪ and Swore he was undone , Expos'd to the Scorn of every Mothers Son . Having lost the Sluice which many years had stood , And at his pleasure drown'd the Land in Blood . And tho' to 's ruine it made the wider Gape , He found himself the Faster in the Trap. He Hal'd his Limbs , which had his Soul long hated . But the Badger's fast , and fears he shall be baited . But am I now forsaken of my Friends , Fools , nor Knaves , Servants , nor none attends . Hells damn'd Fiends , break off those Slavish Chains , Release your Friend , in these unpitied Pains . Where 's my Companions , o' th' same Imputation My Fellow Sharers in the Ruine o' th Nation . Where 's my Cabals , and Mercenary Men , Where 's Silly Perkin , where 's Franck , Dick and Ben ; Where 's all our Senate , with their lowd Debates , Where 's our Committees , those Impish Quacks of State ? What no Redress ? Fiends , Furies , Goblins , Ushers of Black Shades . Infernal Hell-Hounds , I Conjure your Aids . Rise up and Tear my Tired Limbs asunder ; Let me like Faustus be a second Wonder . Then one in Black came limping with all Speed , I thought the Devil had been come indeed ; So did the Badger , and on his Tail did Squat , Badg .

Good Mr. Devil , do not take me yet .

Dr. I am no Devil , but Chief Doctor in the Synod , Who came from Salamanca in a Minuit . Let 's feel your Wounds , to Cure you I will try . B. Oh! Cursed R — thou' rt as foul within as I. What need'st thou feel me Dog , thou wilt undo me , My Victim's gone , a man may see quite through me . I am past the help of Doctor or of Devils , Nothing but Death , can cure these growing Evils . D. But since your Distemper is so Deep and Bloody , And I a Doctor both for Soul and Body ; Prepare your self to make a True Confession , Be it what it will , I 'le give you Absolution . I am not like those common sort of Priests , Who Absolve none but their own Silly Geese . I Pardon all , both — Biter , Dipper , Pendant , Tho' Perjury and Treason hang at the end on 't . All sorts of Rebels , Hypocrites and Atheists , I Pardon all , but Cavaliers and Papists . B. Some of my Sins are Forty years of Age , Must I bring those again upon the Stage ? D. Yes those to choose , they are old , and now grown Hory , Shake out the Bag , and make an end o' th Story . B. But how shall I begin this great Confession ? Which in my Soul doth make this great Impression . D. Not like the Papists with a Bleer'd Contrition ▪ Speak boldly , with Conscience like a Tanner , Make every sin a Trophy of your Honour . B. Why , in Forty one , and two , and three , and Four I then began to love a handsom W — D.

Very good Sir , well and how much more ?

B. The rest are State-Affairs , not to be disclos'd , And by Malignants , are too much suppos'd . And so all that , may well be thus Excus'd ; I own I have , both Church and King abus'd . D.

But you must Specify each dubious Query ,

Nay then 't will last from June till January .

Dr.

Well we must follow Order , Course and Form ,

B. Plague dam the Order , I such custom scorn : It has been my Study , ever from my Cradle , To break all Formal Order , far as I was able . And must I now , to save an old damn'd Soul , Go disimbogue , each Cranny , Chink and Hole ? D. The more you own , your Crime will be the Lesser , Hear to your Reverend Father , and Confessor . B. Propha●e ●mpostor , Reverend do'st thou say , That hast been Perjur'd twenty times a day ; In Capital and Mortal Bloody Cases , To Murther Innocents with thy Disgraces . D. 'T was to Oblige our Sworn Fraternities , And to destroy the Causes subtile Enemies . B. Well Dr. now I find you are much Reform'd , Since our Cabals have Falter'd and Dissolv'd . D. 'T was still my na●●●e to S●il with the Wind ; Come scrape the Kettle , out with what 's behind . B. Lord Father , you have such influence o're me , I wou'd speak all , but that you 'l quite abhor me . D. Oh! you little Bashsul , Old , Arch Wag , You know I neither dare Divulge nor Brag. B. Why , in Forty three , I then began to Feel , Which way Dame Fortune wou'd bring round her Wheel . Then I laid hold on that great Instrument , And left the King for K. and Parliament . Me they embrac'd , and my Advice did crave , Finding I 'd wit enough to be a Knave . Then I fell on , 'gainst Church , and King and Heaven ; And Still my Conscience with times kept Even : And ne're Recanted what I Undertook , Till K. was kill'd , and th' Son the Land forsook . And then the Scepter fell in Traitours Hands , And I was ready to assist Commands . Then I was made a Minister of State , And found a way the Church to Extirpate . Then I helpt Noll to set up Presbyters , And pull'd the Bishops Surplice o're their ears ; And made the Clergy look like Privateers . As they went down , Tub-Preachers they did rise , Preach'd Order , Altar down , and Sacrifice . I made him know , through States great Policy , Those were the men to maintain Tirany . Noll being safe , by what I had done for him , Suspected me , 'cause I Betray'd my King . Then to our Tribe he openly Proclaims , He 'd never Trust a man that had three Names , He Smoak'd my Soul from its Minority , Still to be Opposite to all Authority . Then I was forc'd new Measures for to take , With the Kings Friends some small Contracts did make , I Beg'd they wou'd with Patience be contented , For the Kings Return , a means was just invented But this was done , when I could not prevent it . I put my self i' th Front o' th Sufferers , Tho' like to them , I had neither Wounds not Scars . When he arriv'd with glorious Acclamations , And fill'd with Joys the Longing Expectations , All Loyal Hearted Souls of these three Nations . And every heart that had been Musket Proof , For K. and Country under Fortunes Roof , Had Broke the Fatal Spells of Slaveries , With Joys did meet the King upon their Knees . I like a Spaniel-whelp did lurk a Loof , And Squint quite through the Opticks of my Hoof. Expecting when the K. on me would Call ; And cry my Merits up above them All. But when I found He did mind me no more , Just to His Feet , I Crept upon all Four . Then Clutch'd his Royal Hand between my Paws , As if I 'd never been for Good Old Cause . Then His Clemency remitted what was past , With Place and Title , he my Honour Grac'd . Which I improv'd , till I was grown so High , That I again did envy Monarchy . Which being smelt by York , I was Degraded , And out of all my Dignities Defeated . And ever since my Brain has been a working , For Sweet Revenge , my Soul hath still been lurking . To several Attempts I did aspire , E're I could pitch on one that would take Fire . Till I had got this Fatal-Plot well grounded , With Seconds , and with sham-plots to surround it . Which serves as Paint upon an old Bawds Face , To fill up Furrows , and to give a Grace ; As Painters always Imperfection Blaze . And here we 'l make Friendly , Fair Conclusion , I prithee Doctor give me Absolution . D. Nay hold a while , your Crimes but now begin Sir , These were but Virtues to your latter Sins Sir . You must rub up your Brains and Face about , We have the Plot-Mystick , yet to Hammer out . B. G — Dam your Reverence , let that go by , You are as deep i' th dirt in that as I ; D. Pox rot your Honour , that 's a Plaguy Lie . You have confest , you were the Engeneer , That draw'd the Lines , which way the Plot would Bear ; That who shou'd keep the Front , and who the Rear . B. And had not your Impudence still over acted , Our Purpose long ere this had been Perfected . D. 'Zounds 't was for that , that I by you was chosen , 'Cause I could Out-face all the Truth in Heaven . B. But not to Snap the Council up like Peasants , And call them Rascals in the Royal Presence . Nor yet to call the Life-Guards Popish Traitors , As if we were their Makers and Creators . Nor to throw an Odium on them at their Inns. When you saw our party totter like Nine-pinns Too late to make the world esteem us Kings . Nor to call Inn-keepers Rogues for entertaining The King's Life-Guards ; those things ●ivulg'd our meaning . Nor to call your self the Saviour of the Nation ; As if there had been Oats from the Creation . D. 'S death , Have you not acted worse than this ? You vex me so , I scarce have time to P●s● . You have these seven years , made it your study To draw disgussed Parties to a Body . You held Communion with Tub-Preachers juggling , And draw'd their Brethren altogether , smuggling Their holy Siscers with whom they Ingender , And bring forth Brood that 's light with th' same Tinder : Who are bred up in ●ears and Jealousies , Wherewith you daily blind their pur-blind eyes . And thus you draw the hearts of silly Subjects From their own Sovereign , to be odious Objects : For this Impression in their Infancy Deprives them of the sence of Loyalty . Thus you seduce the Land for future Ages , To be a Den of Bruits ; for wild out-rages ; Worse than wild Beasts , who still own some Supreme ; Both Infidels and Indians do the same . B. Had you this Doctrine from Salamanka , Where you ne're were , I know well , Sir , I thank ye ? You need not instance these most biting twinges , Since our Designs are all slung off the hinges . You 're ten times worse , were your faults sum'd together , Tho' thou pretend'st to be my Ghostly Father ; For thou art neither Prot , ' Byter , nor Papist : Best thou canst boast of , is Inhumane Atheist . D. You cross old Cur , resolve me these few Questions , And I 'le importune you for no more Confessions . Who was the cause of Scotlands late Rebellions ? Who promis'd to assist their Force with Millions ? Who was 't draw'd Perkin from his Royal Father , To be cajoll'd into the Peoples Favour ? Who was 't contriv'd the drawing of Petitions ; To gull the Nation into blind Seditions ? Who was 't contriv'd Cabballing in the City , And to school Evidence , chose a Committee ? Who first contriv'd to Peach both Peers and Judges , And make them scape before the Bar like drudges ? All those in eminent Places , and great Favour , Yet never could be brought in guilty neither ? Who told the Commons that , 'gainst every Trial , They must seclude all Members that were Loyal ? That none might ever pass for due Elected , Unless approv'd on by the disaffected ? Who was it first that cursed Maxim mov'd , That every Act for Money be 〈◊〉 , Unless Prerogative were squeez'd ●● shov'd ? Who was 't contriv'd to have the Gu●●ds indicted , When we our selves the Cit●-Guards united ? Who was it cry'd , No Money for the King , Till Kingly Powers into ●our hands we bring ? Who was it cry'd , The King must not be trusted , With his own Life , while we are thus disgusted ? And that the People they were still in danger Of Native Papists , and of Popish Stranger ; Till th' Militia , Cinque-ports , Navy and the rest , Were all expos'd unto our Care and Trust ? Who was 't that writ the Address for Shire , As if all had been Subscribers that were there , A voting for the Members , and had lear'd on 't Tho' ten in all the Number never heard on 't ? Who was it first invented the Black Box , And the Black Bills which were to give such knocks ? Who was made privy unto Godfrey's Death , For which three men already lost their breath ? Who was 't converted Law into a Cloak , To shelter Knaves , and Innocents to Choak ? Who was 't that gave the Synod Approbations , For to contrive Committees for Vexations , And made a Conventicle Synod for three Nations ? Who gave Advice to Libel Church and State , And none must mind the meaning till too late , And the King's Friends made odious out of date ? Who was 't perswaded those turn'd out of Places Of great Authority , to make strange faces ; And cry out Popery is now approaching ; Tho' they before conceived no such poaching ? Who was 't gave out , that a thousand Watermen Had all conspir'd to Petition , when The Parliament to Oxford were conven'd , That they might sit at Westminster for them ; But ne're were heard of more from Smith nor Ben ? Who was 't endeavour'd all that preparations , To guard the City Members in their stations To Oxford ; which look'd far more Arbitrary Than Forty One , or absolute old Harry ? Who was the occasion of the late Obstruction Of the Adresses of the Cities loyal Production ; Was 't not the Canker of your Taps defluction ? Who school'd Fitz-Harris for two years together , And tann'd his Conscience thick as Bullocks Leather ; And kept him for reserve to sweep the Court Of King and Queen , and all that them support ? And now the Fool begins to stink for fear , And is in danger quite as much as we are : But makes such scruples to put by the Coller , As if he meant to hang Sir William Waller . Who hath influenc'd all this Perjury , Which hath out-fac'd both Law and Loyalty ? Who is 't that holds the Plot still by the Tail , As Sea-men tug , to tack about their Sail ; And now by one small breeze of Justice breath , Fear to be shipwra●'d to eternal Death ? Who animated the wild Votes of late , To make themselves Comptrollers of the State ; And that their Votes without concurrence might Impeach the Crown , or Peers in spight of Right ? Who was 't destroy'd both Monarchy and Law , And would make it Lawful by a second blow ? Who cry'd these Visions and strange Revelations , Tells us for Wars we must make Preparations , Whilst we know no danger but our own Damnations ? Who made the Speech burnt by the Hangman's hand , Which did both Threaten , and the King Command ? In short , Who was this Hellish Plot's Contriver ? Who was it's Plaintiff-Engine ; who its Driver ; If it was You , ingeniously confess 't , And I 'le give you Absolution for the rest . B. Nay , Doctor , now I find you 'l not abhor me , For you your self makes my Confession for me . Then nods and fleers , and at this Motion grins ; These are but Title-pages of my Sins . D. Nay , for the rest we 'l ne'er stand to unhole , They 'r only symptom-Infects in your soul , Flaws of distinction between fair and foul . B. Well , since I find that all my hopes are past , E're to shake off what I pull'd on so fast , But that I , at worst , can hang my self at last . Rather than live under this ill , true notion , After your kind Advice and friendly Caution , I must confess , tho' with a feign'd Devotion , All these black Crimes which to my Charge you lay , And many a thousand ten times worse than they , Since I 'm imperfect to perform the rest ; He whisper'd then , and I suppose confest ; Thus far degenerated from a Beast . And then the Doctor , with his bended Chin , Canted some words , and so absolv'd his sin . And swore by the Holy Doom of his best Trade , Badger thou art Papist now , as good as e're was made : By this Canonick Salamanka Gown , I give to thee my best Benediction . B. The Badger then began to frisk and squail , As a Cow that 's stung with Hornets in the Tail . Thou Popish Dog , had I but power to rally , I 'de make thee know I hate all Christian Folly . But in the interval to prevent new Broils , Aurora rose , and all the Sequel spoils ; Whose splendrous looks , with Phoebus in the Rear , Drives all Malignants to a darker Sphere , Their Conscience then with fear began to crack ; The Doctor hoal'd , with the Badger at his back .

The Humble Wishes of a Loyal Subject . MAY Blood of Innocents no more Disgrace The Stuarts Name , nor fly in Charles's Face ; Let Tyrants wear those Stains whose due they are , Whilst High Born Kings the Rod of Justice bear . May proud Rebellious Faction tumble down , And haughty Freedom truckle to the Crown . May stubborn Peers , Pimps to a Common-weal , ( Maugre all Ignoramus Juries ) feel The Keen-edg'd Ax : May Shute and Pilkington And Cornish take the Law of Abbington ; May Bethel , and such Citt Sh'risss understand The jerk of their own Hireling Ketch's Hand . May Ward Rewarded be by Them he serves , On the Triangle Tree , as He deserves ; May Moore ne're cease to stand up for the Crown 'Gainst the Presumptuous Rabble of the Town ▪ May Ignoramus never more present It self in Court until a Parliament Decide the Cause , how Treason justify'd May be by Ignoramus , thus deny'd . May Knaves be Banish'd from Your Sacred Court And thither none but Honest Men resort . May subtile Two-fac'd Lawyers Chat no more , Whether Succession be of Right , or Power : May YORK return Your Senators to Face , And justify his High-born Princely Race . May Godsrey's Murderers appear on Stage , To Pin the Scene of this Tumultuous Age : May Hill and Green ne're cease in Heav'n to pray , Till we behold that happy welcom Day . May all that wish for Change of Government , To pull down KING , to set up Parliament , Like Noll and Bradshaw , Scot and Peters , be Rewarded for their Wicked Policy . May pure Rogue , Three Names , end his Aged days In Hempen String to his Eternal Praise ; And Hang by Quarters o're the City Gates , With Head on Tower , for his noble Feats ; Whilst his own Zealous Bigots , passing by , Behold their Demi god extol'd to th' Sky . May the Great Name of STVART now become Mirour and Terrour to all Christendom : Under the Name of CHARLES , may Charlémaine Be couch'd for Power , for Virtue Charlébone .

The Polititian's Downfall ; Or Potapski's Arrival at the Netherlands : And the Congratulation of the Protestant Joyner at their Meeting . Flectere si nequeo Superos , Acheronta movebo . — Virg. IS Tapski Dead ? Why then the States-man ly'd Who wou'd Immortal be and Deify'd . Strange Pride ! th' exalted Lucifer is hurl'd By strong Impulse of Fate from th' Belgic World . The Burgo-master's ba●●●'d in 's intent , Descends from Watry t' a Fiery Element . But stay ! could his Vast Soul retire from hence ? And quit the ruins of decayed sence , Without some Prodigy in Nature shown ? No swinging Thunder-bolt from Heaven thrown ? No dismal Harbingers of Fate come down ? Sure Nature slept , when Fate did strike the blow ; No Earth-quakes , no Convulsion-Fits below ? No Star or fiery Comet in the Sky To Usher in this Mans Mortality ? 'T is strange that thus in Bed he took his Nap ! Could all the Putrid Excrements o' th' Tap Support the hollow Cask no longer here ? Was 't so infirm the Lees it could not bear ? Bless me ! thus free from both th' extreams , From Tower-Hill Sledge and Smithfield Flames , Serenely did he moulder into Dust , And Monsieur Ketch he disappointed most . His buisie , active Soul ( that long was pent Within a Putrid , ill contrived Tenement ) Is quietly retir'd ; but clog'd with Sin , And Treason , in Elysium can't get in . Deny'd his rest thus in the Seat of Bliss , He sinks below into the damn'd Abyss : There he roves now , and restless till he find Some black mouth'd Villain suited to his mind . Bless'd be his Fate ! in a Dark Prison nigh , Old Tapski does St. Stephen there espy What Salutations past the Devil can tell , The loud Report has circulated Hell , Of this great Man's Arrival here to Dwell . And here he shews State-gambol● and his Tricks , ( For Hell and Holland love Good Politicks ) The Livery men now meet with one intent To Chuse this Fiend-like Tapski President The Carpenter transported , laughs to see His Patron brought to Hell to this degree . He grins with his extorted ill-look'd Face , And makes now Devil ▪ like a damn'd grimace , To see Old Tapski mounted in his Place . Brave Fortune sure ! and if it still run even , Farewel our Saint , it will be Captain Stephen . The new State-Puppet does now Act with care , With damn'd Old wheedling Tricks , grows Popular . He at the Helm sits , says all things sure , No dismal fear of Arbitrary Power . Puf't and exalted thus he hates those near Th' affections of his Master Lucifer . His Soul is like as 't was when pent in clay Still forming black designs for Anarcy , To Stab Hells well compacted Monarcy . He swears by Styx and A●heron to see , That Hell , like Holland a Republick be , To this the discontented Damn'd agree . In order to 't this Pest of every Nation , Does sneakingly produce th' Association . The damn'd themselves start at the bold Adventure , Do there deny to seal the Indenture . He frets at this , yet Swea●s he 'l use more Tricks , He 'l win him with his City Politicks . He 'l buz the Ignorant Rabble in the Ear , And them with 's Rhetorick possess with Fear : Tell 'em of Jesuits Plots , and Plots forsooth , All which these credulous Hell-hounds snap for truth . He bawls that Property may be secur'd , Without it all these Flames can't be endur'd Their stench says he will vex us when confin'd ; We 're doubly damn'd if once it be design'd , That we should lose the Freedom of our mind . The Fundamental Laws of Subjects gone , When we can't range for satisfaction . When chain'd in Dungeons we are past relief , Resolv'd by stratagem , I 'le be Hell's Chief : The Joyner with his Two Foot Rule draws near , Shews his fine Raree-show 'gainst Lucifer . To hear his wit about him they do throng , And in a Lord's Apartment there 't was Sung . The Joyner swears he came to this intent , To Square and Plain this Form of Government . They all Applaud this Man , a Man of parts , Well skill'd in State , as in Mechanick Arts. Next him a Bull-fac'd Lawyer here approaches , And with extended Lungs the matter broaches . He there pleads high , makes tedious Speeches , Which pleas'd the miscreant Authors of the Breaches . Old Bradshaw with 's great Catalogue there stood , Of Rebel Whelps bedaub'd with Monarch's Blood ; Tho ' twing'd with pains , tormented with despair , Yet smile to see their Brother Tapski there . These Quondam Judges , Lawyers , Clerks combine To alter Government , and the State resine , To purge the Court from Councellors that are Evil. They 're seeming kind to their own Chief the Devil . Thus Tapski well surrounded with his Friends Republick Demons and stinking sulphrous Fiends , S●yly pursues his Interest and By ▪ ends . At this the Hellish Brood begin to frown . They see this damn'd Committee're Factious grown , Their Principles and Practices they disown . But Tapski's cunning , still he laughs and leers , No disappointment in the matter fears . Infernal Government his squint Eyes view , But Beelz●bub its Charter will renew , L●st Tapski look and find a flaw in 't too . Suspicious Members of the Lower House , By strong Resolves the States-men indispose From bearing Office in their Black Cabal . ( Green Ribbon Clubs are Epidemical . ) Tapski degraded thus ! what now remains ; What is the consequence but Links and Chains ? A draught of liquid Brimst●ne 'mongst the Flames ? Strange fate ! he 's seiz'd and ●urri'd o●● th' Stage , And can't escape the Demons Popular Rage . Infernal Officers do ra●● and tear , And drag him into Dungeons of despair , 'Mongst Croaking Toads and Adders he 's cousin'd , Which is but sad diversion to his mind ; Their dismal noise can't lull the Fiend asleep , They are but frightful Comforts in the Deep . Now Tapski racks his Brains for a release , And tries all methods which he thinks may Please . He Flatters and Collogues in hopes to gain Some Intervals of ease from lingring pain : But still his sly attempts are all in vain . Baffl'd by this his Kind , Perswasive way He 'l vindicate him self by force of Law ; The Hellish Presidents and Customs reads , And Bradshaw on his side profoundly pleads , To have an Habeas Corpus , this they guess , Will Tapski's wicked Grievances redress . But Pox ! the learned Sophisters of Hell These artificial Cheats do know full well . The thing 's deny'd ; cast out , and in the sence Of Learned Men it 's deem'd an high offence . Tapski a mild recanting Paper brings ; ( He fawns still after disobliging Kings : ) His flatt'ring stile they joyntly do refuse , His Tresonous Crimes admit of no excuse . He is impeach't , to Tryal he must come , But Tapski hopes for to divert his doom . If Bethel's Friends in lower Regions be , He doubts not but the Law will set Him free . He 'l laugh at Malice and Infe●nal Furies , If there he finds his Ignoramus Juries . And there 's one pik'd to Tapski well affected , But they fail now , because not well directed ; The Pilkingtonian Sneaking Trick's detected . Last thus ; Old Tapski's Tongue begins to faulter ; And tho by Knaves he hath scap't th' Ax and Halter , Yet now lies mute , dejected and forsaken , And all the Accomplices of th' Treason taken . In deepest Dungeons are these Traitors pent , For thus conspiring 'gainst the Government . A Fury Engines new and strange provides , To clapperclaw and thwack his Leach'rous sides , They 're whip't with Rods well soakt in Devils Piss : ( That 's worse than Mother ●reswel's flogging is ) They lowdly roar , and grunt like Hogs in Stye , Have burning Sulph'rous Flames to drink when dry . They feel the strange variety of Evils What 's worse , they 're piss't upon by Tiny Devils , No Habeas Corpus can these Imps remove From dismal Bonefires , or from burning Stove , For ever must they be confin'd to Chains No intermission from their horrid pains . Farewel Old Tapski , cursed at thy Birth , Thou publick scorn of Hell , as well as Earth : Farewel Old Treason , since the Traytor now Is gone a Pilgrimage to Hell below .

A Congratulation of the Protestant-Joyner to Anthony King of Poland , upon his Arrival in the Lower World . Joyner . WElcom , my Lord , unto these Stygian Plains ; Welcom unto a Land where discord reigns : This is a Land your Lordship will approve , From whence these States hope you will ne'r remove . Welcom to These , as to the States above , ●rom them I 'm come , and this blest News I bring , Discord is dead , and they have chosen you King . Pride , Envy , Malice , Hell would soon decay . Should Peace appear , and Disord fade away . Anth. Thanks Friend , whoe'r thou art , for this bless'd News , The Name of King I hate , yet can't refuse ; I wish some other Name they would confer . Joyn.

What think you then , my Lord , of Emperour ?

Anth. Spoke like a Roman Soul ; who , tho they hate The Name of Kings , yet Emperours create . Joyn.

Or , if these please not , what if you should be Dubb'd of Mankind Plenipotentiary ?

Anth. Spoke like a Non-con's Soul , that very Name Does all my Vitals heat , and sets my Soul on flame . Let me embrace , and hug thee in my Arms ; That Hogen-Mogen word is full of Cha●ms : There 's Beauty in 't that leads my Soul away , And I must follow , though I go astray , Joyn. What means my Lord by that recanting Speech ? To go astray implies you 've made some breach . Anth. The observation of it does imply You have been boil'd i' th world as well as I. Joyn. 'T is true , my Lord , I aim'd at mighty Things , To subvert Kingdoms , and to murder Kings ; To teach the Nation to be Picts once more , And die their Skins with their own ●rimson Gore : That is the truest stain , that ne're will out ; Witness his Father , murder'd by the Rout. Anth. That 's the dead-bone , which ( touching ) bleeds a new ; And that 's the cause I did the Son pursue : Like Cataline , our Mischiefs are not sure ; But by effecting greater to secur● . Joyn. But since i' th' world your Taper does not shine ●ike Damocles tho Presbyterians dine ; The Sword of Justice trembles o're their ●ead , And hangs secur'd but by one single thread ; There needs no Atropos to cut the string , One blast of Treason more against their KING , Does all the Vengeance on their own heads bring . Ant. You seem a Convert now , Prithee declare , What is your Name ? From whence , and what you were ? Joyn. My Lord , survey this Face , and you will find ( ●ith a small recollecting of your mind ) What my profession was , and what 's my Name , By whom imploy'd , from whence , and what I am . Anth. I seriously observe you , but can't tell , You are so alter'd since you came to Hell ; But guess you are a Man of no great Fame ; Nor ever had , until of late , a Name : A Name , I mean , that does deserve Renown For Murder , or for striking at the Crown . Joyn. Small Shrubs , my Lord , may tall as Cedars grow ; What was John Leyden and Massanello ? What was Wat Tyler and Jack Straw of late ? And our prodigious Oliver's great Fate , That made all Europe shake ? To such a height I might have rose ; but Fortune ow'd a spight , And struck it home just in the nick of Time ; And for a Throne , I did a Gallows clime . My Lord , you sure may know me now ; — Anth. I do ; Your Name is Colledge , and I pity you . But prithee tell me , for I fain would know , In all my journey hither , to and fro , I could not spy one glimmering light of Heav'n ; For all was dark , but what from hence was giv'n , Only some Link-boyes Skeletons did ply I' th' way with Lights most dreadful to the eye . What is the reason ? For I 've heard men tell Strange Stories , and that viewing Heav'n is Hell , And not enjoy 't ; Prithee what shall I do ? I 'de give a world that happy place to view . Joyn. The reason is , You did in Holland die ; A place that to the Centre lies so nigh , That you 're no sooner dead , but you are here ; It is a shorter cut by half a Year : It lies so low , and sunk so deep i' th Sea , It wants the use o' th Primum Mobile . Had you in England staid , and dy'd as I , You might have clipt the Air , and reach'd the Skie . Anth. But since I 'm forc'd into this dark abode , Describe the pleasures of that blessed Road : I fancy that some pleasure will ensue , To hear that told which I shall never view . Joyn. No sooner was my Soul discharg'd of Clay , But up it sprang , and pinion'd quick it's way ; I pass'd the Orbs with wonder and delight , And wa'n't took notice of in all my flight ; At last , on Hean'ns Battlements I stay'd , And all that bright Imperian round survey'd ; Observ'd how the Primum Mobile did fly Ten thousand times more swifter than the Fye : The vast Expance did all with Glory shine , A Gate of ●eal did on my right hand stand , And Peter , ( as I guess , by th' Keys in 's hand ) Who ope'd the door , and all pure Souls receiv'd , I thought to enter too , but was deceiv'd . Anth. What happiness to those blest Souls was giv'n ! Who 'd plague their King and Conntrey to lose Heav'n ! Joyn. He took me by the hand , and turn'd me round ; ●id me avant , for that was holy Ground : Yonder 's your Road ; down there the Angels fell And so must You. At which I struck at Hell ; I or in a moment ( so quick was my Fate ! ) My Head was dash'd against Hells Iron-gate , ( Which then was shut ) A wonder to the Crowd ! Open the door ! I boldly yaul'd aloud : A thund'ring Voice I heard ; From whence ? From who D' ye come ? I strait reply'd I came from You I am a Joyner by my Trade , and come To sit and Wainscot up his Lordships Room . At which the Gates flew ope : I entred in , Swept clean the Room of all things there but Sin ; She must remain , and your Companion be , For ever , and to vast Eternity . Anth. I 'm mad ! I rave ! The Vulture gnaws my Breast ! I wou'd repose , but 't is in vain to rest . No rest is here ! My scorching Entrails burn ! And all my Guts to horrid Snakes do turn ! Oh , cursed Fate ! that I should die so soon , When all my Treasons scarce did reach their Noon ! Oh! had I but a little longer stood , I would have made the Nation flow with Blood : But I am dead ; yet still I must Rebel , And add more Flames unto the Flames of Hell ; I 'll make grim Pluto tremble in his Throne , And all the Subterranean Empire groan ; I 'll make 'em drink again the bitter Cup , And undermine their Hell and blow 'em up . With that he foam'd at mouth , hung out his Tongue , ( At which a horrid ugly Scorpion hung ; ) His Eyes so hot did glow , made Fiends admire ; And burnt so fierce , as Hell it self cry'd Fire ; But a shagg'd Fiend appear'd , and in a trice Hurl'd his hot Soul into a Hell of Ice . Where may each Traytor , that their Kings controul , Fin'd his Estate entail'd upon their Soul .

The King of Poland's Ghost : Or a Dialogue betwixt Pluto and Charon , upon his Reception . Pluto .

HOld Stygian Sculler , what hast brought me here ?

Charon .

The Soul , Sir , of your long-wish'd noble Peer .

Pl.

What ? not the King of Poland's ?

Ch.

Yes 't is it :

Pl. You old Tarpawlin , will you ne're learn Wit ? Who bid you touch at Dantzick and be hang'd , D' ye think my Furies long to be harangu'd ? Ch. Stop the mistake , and let your Passion cease , He ne're came there , for Poland's still in Peace ; But I suppos'd you waited for your Prey , And therefore Amsterdam'd in his way . Pl. Pox on your Zeal , you did it for your Fare , Could'st think I want Incendiaries here ? Ch. No , no , Sir ; I have Passengers enough That spoke their Places , and gave Earnest too ? And though y 'had Boute ▪ ●eu's enough before , Yet such as This ne're touch'd th' Infernal Shore : Scilla , Sejarus , Cataline and Noll , Must give our Politician the Wall . They , cruel wretches , sought Imperial sway Py Fire and Slaughter , ours a milder way . They fought e'ne like your Furies for a Crown , He by Petitions softly bowls it down . Kings may be fell'd , and never hurt a Limb , And Pluto's self fall gently under him . But Sir , you 're safe , for e're he came at Styx , He drew and rack'd off all his Politicks . ●l . I can't tell that , Coopers are cunning blades , We Devils scarce can dive into their Trades ; The Lees of one rich Pipe may ferment more , And I am plaguy loath to lose my Power . Ch. Fy ●luto ! y' are too jealous of your Pee● , He that hath been your Drudge this 50 year ; If you begin to slight old Servants thus , 'T will be a great Discouragement to Us. ●l

Why didst not take Elizium in thy way ?

Ch. Why Sir , the Keeper feign'd he 'd lost his Key ; And would not slip the Lock for all my Pray'rs ; I touch'd besides at Purgatory Stairs , ( The Trimmers office as some term it well , Because it squints both toward Heav'n and Hell ) But 't would not do , Pl. No ? what could they object ? He seems the very Founder of the Sect. Ch 'T is true ; but they urg'd , 't was like an Inn Where Folks a while were baited for their Sin , Then like cur'd Lunaticks turn'd out again . And they alledg'd , my Charge was past all cure , And nothing in the world was e're said truer ; For 't is not all the Saints in Heav'n and Earth , Were he once in , could ever pray him forth . Pl. Well Charon , I forgive thee , for I see Thou speak'st both for thy Client and thy Fee : But how stand Causes on the British Shoar , Since they have lost the Bawble they adore . Cha. Why they resent it in a various way , And some there are who do not stick to say , That the Elm-board foregroan'd this fatal day . That th' Albion Rocks relent , and change their hue And eve'n Tyburn puts on Mourning too ▪ Your dear Friend Titus cloaths himself in Crape , ( Masculine Titus ) your out-doing Ape , Who 's got above the Dispensation of a feeble Rape . Other 's there are who are not troubled much , But rather seem beholding to the Dutch ; For this one kindness they to Britain do , Commutes for Chattam and Am●●●na too .

The Country-mans Complaint and Advice to the KING . WE only can admire those happy times Of Innocence , unskill'd in Laws & Crimes , When Gods were known by Blessings own'd by Prayer , And 't was no part of Worship for to Swear : Clearer than Fountains , and more free than those , Impartial Truth they all to each disclose . To hear and to believe were strictly joyn'd , And Speech thus answer'd what it first design'd . But Oh unhappy State of Humane kind ! Nought dreadful now our Awe , or Faith can bind Vows and Religions are but bare pretence , Oaths are found out to shackle Innocence , And Laws must serve a Perjur'd Impudence . Tumults address for Blood , Witness for Hire deceives , And Judge is forc'd to Sentence what he ne're believes . All Truth and Justice , blushingly withdraw , Leaving us nothing but the Form of Law : Whereby Rogues profligate and hardned in their Vice Proscribe all Loyal men , as Factions raise their Poor Land ! whose Folly to swift Ruine tends , Despis'd by Foes , un-aided by its Friends . In vain does Heaven her Fiery Comets light , We stifle th' Evidence , and still grope in night : Baffled by Fools , betray'd by perjur'd Knaves , Rather than Subjects , we 'll be branded Slaves : And by a vain pursuit of airy Bliss , Forfeit substantial real Happiness ; Change Monarchy ( from all Oppression free ) Religion , and its Native Purity , True Freedom , without lawless Liberty : For thousand Masters , worst of Tyranny , For frantick Zeal , formal Hypocrisie , For Licence to rude rabbles , Hell and Slavery . And all this wrought by old known Cheats and Rooks , Gods ! to be twice Cajol'd by Cants and Looks ! So●s , worse than Brutes , to run into that Net We see , and know for our destruction set !

To the KING . A Rise , O thou once Mighty Charles , arise , Dispel those mists that could thy piercing Eyes ; Read o're thy Martyr'd Father's Tragick Story , Learn by his Murder , different wayes to glory . How fatal 't is , by Him is understood , To yield to Subjects , when they thirst for Blood , And cloak their black Designs with Publick Good . As thou art God-like by thy Pity , show That thou art God-like by thy Justice too : Lest we should count thy greatest Vertue , Vice , And call thy Mercy , servile Cowardise . Of old , when daring Giants skal'd the Skie , The King of Gods ne●e laid h●s Thunder by , To hear Addresses for their Property . But quell'd His Rebels by a stroke Divine , And left example how to deal with Thine .

Advice to the CARVER . BRing me a Man with animating Stroaks , Whose pregnant Steel gives Life to formless Rocks ; Stone now must speak , since humane Race is grown , In Heart and Brain more dull and hard than Stone . Carver thou must erect with learned Toyl To Truth and Innocence a sacred Pile : Marble and Brass are Elements too frail , From Age to Age these Records to entail . Some harder Mettal should imploy thy Art , Than Pharaoh's or our Judges stony Heart . From the deep Quarries of Immortal Truth , Digg out Materials to out-live the Tooth Of eating Fame , and gnawing Calumny , Whilst Envy and her Snakes drop off and dye , And raise our Heroe's Monumental Shrine When Earth and Stars give off to shine , Which the last Fire may burnish and refine . First Carver , Let thy speaking Marble tell How the dire Monster Perjury from Hell , When first he rais'd his Head , and saw our Light , Nature gave back , and trembled at the sight . Comets his Eyes , Curl'd Adders were his Hair , Nothing of Poyson can with Theirs compare . Couch'd in his Lips a Brood of Aspicks lay , To all his Words their Venom these convey . His Tongue 's a Two-edg'd Sword in Lawyers hand , Whose double stroak no Innocence can stand . His Hands are gor'd in Blood , like Vulture's Claws , The Engines of his Murders are the Laws ; A ! Holy Justice vindicate thy Cause : No longer let this Monster Triumph thus , And make thy Sacred Courts his Slaughter-house . A Belt he wore , on which the Imbroiderer wrote The History of the Hellish Popish Plot , A Bunch of Snakes made up the Shoulder Knot . At his Belts end a mighty Budget hung , Where Narratives and Informations throng , Letters , Commissions , Infinite were there , Were there , for no where else did they appear . All stuft with Treasons of the largest Size , Armies to raise , and in Rebellion rise . ●i●y and ●eet to burn , destroy the KING , Under a ●orr●ign Yoak our Land to bring . These Poysoned Arrows , ready for the Day O● Bat●el , in our Monsters Quiver lay . Such was his Natural Hue , and Proper Arms ; But when he rang'd abroad by Magick Charms , So chang'd a Shape to Vulgar Eyes he wore , That whom they should Abhor they do Adore . Of Pure Rebellion over his Head they put A Solemn Veil of the Geneva Cut. Thus all his Ghastly Countenance did shade , And a False Saint of a True Divel made . Next on his Shoulder dangl'd to his Knee , A Cloak of Presbyterian Loyalty . Thus safely covers Hell it self , and draws The Peoples Admiration and Applause . Curs'd be that Loyalty in Stile Submiss , In Action Treasonable , like Judas Kiss ; That does in humble Phrase their Soveraign woo , He 'll graciously be pleas'd , Himself t' undo ; Of all Prerogatives to strip the Crown , And for His Safety 's sake , His Power lay down . To quit His Vseless Guards , that so He may Gently become Theirs and the Peoples Prey . If this is deny'd , then the Great Guns must Rore Of Popish Plots , and Arbitrary Power . Then must his Friends , his Wife and Brother fall , A Heccatomb to Hypocritick Gall. What follows needs no Prophet to reveal , A Late Experience does too sadly tell . Carver it now thy boldest Stroak will ask , To Trace this Monster in his Loyal Mask : How first he Crept , who now so high does Sore , And Stole in at the Cranny of a Door , Like a young Sinner checkt with Doubt and Fear , Bashful and Tim'rous his Beginnings were ; But silent Awe did not restrain him long , For soon the Speechless Elf ●ound out a Tongue , A Tongue who to a mighty States-man's Ear , With great Success our Monster did prefer ; A Tongue which now with Dives may recant In vain , and Cooling Drops for ever want . At first our States-man waver'd to and fro , Fearful to hold him fast , or let him go , Under the Veil of Zeal and Loyal Cloak , The Fiend beneath he easily did Smoak ; But judging that his outward Shape and Dress , The Genius of our Nation would higly please , At last he chose to entertain the Elf , And let poor Naked Truth shift for it Self . This he conceiv'd old Grudges would attone , Make People , King , and Parliament his own . This would Raise Money , this would Armies Pay ; But these false hopes scarce liv'd a Winter's day . For soon the Pamper'd Beast unruly grew , And in the Face of his own Keeper flew : And Breaking loose , with his Departing Heels Gave him a Bruise , which still the Patient feels . Now did that other Monster , Lying Fame , Her Brother Saint , the Nation round proclaim , And every Weak and every Factious Breast , down , With this Infernal Spirit is possest . Some with large Swallow , take his Words all And the Romance as a Fifth Gospel own . Others for want of ●aith with noise supply , And this Diana greet with lowdest Cry . All the High places of the Land is stor'd With Altars , where this Moloch is ador'd . In Church , in Court , in every Justice-seat , All It with Incense and Prostration greet . This Idol's Unclean Worship prostitutes The House of Prayer , and Prayer it self pollutes , The very Streets their impious Homage pay , And with Burnt Offerings convert Night to Day . 'T is not the Blood of Beasts that can asswage , This All devouring Moloch's hungry Rage . In his Infernal Rights there is allow'd , No other Sprinkling but of Humane Blood . Victims and Temples too must feel the Knife , The Living Temples of the God of Life . Nor Bodies only will his Rage suffice , A Nation's Souls are now his Sacrifice . Thrice happy they who with clean Hands and Heart Act in his Tragedy the Victims part . Who in White Robes follow their Chief the Lamb , In all his Thorny paths of Death and Shame : Who Dying feel no other Grief and Pain , But for the Guilt of those by whom they 're slain , Who march the safest and the shortest way To Blissful Canaan through this Purple Sea . Next Carver , thy Recording Steel must shew The Monster joyn'd with his Confederate Crew . Scouring our Coasts , and Ravaging our Land , Whilst no opposing Power his Shock can stand . As if the Nation were by angry Heaven , To his Dire Rage in Execution given . Thy Piece this general Slaughter may dispose , By lessening Distance artfully to lose . But in the Front of the main Work , thy hand In solid Brass must make our Hero stand , Stand gloriously in his Immortal Shrine , Which neither Rust shall Eat , nor Age shall Mine , And shall out-live all but their Guilt and Hell , By whose Conspiring Perjury first He fell . Yet to be just , Great Soul , we must allow , Thou all thy Glories to their Crimes must owe. Life 's to thy Parents for Illustrious Birth , Which is but a Portion of Nobler Earth . Art thou in Debt then to the Monsters Rage , By which with Heavens Applause thou left'st the Stage . Stafford's great Name in old Records did sleep , And lay regardless among the Common Heap ; With Dust and Rubbish almost cover'd o'er , Thy Setting Sun its Lustre does restore , When ever fair Astraea shews her Face , And Slow-pac'd Truth shall Factious Rage displace , It will be said of thy old Norfolk Line , Some with their Blood are stain'd , and others shine . Carver , to Sacred Truth this work we vow , Thy Chi●●el must no flattering Touches know ; Nor Common Actions raise , nor Vices skreen , Shew him but where the Hero does begin . And yet the failing of our Lives past Race , Exalt the Power and Victory of Grace . There trace him first where 't was his happy Fate , To be thought worthy of the Monster's hate . The surest Mark of the Almighties Love , Is when the Powers of Hell against Us move . Shew him Accus'd , Imprison'd and Oppress'd , There was he first for Heaven's Militia prest ; Then was he Train'd and Disciplin'd for War , A War in which the Slain , the Conque●o●s are . Then did his Thoughts true Liberty pos●ess , His Body's S●isure was his Souls Release . Next lead him from the Prison to the Bar , The Place of Combat , and the Sea● of War ; Bring through all the Ba●b'rous Noise and Shout Of an Insulting and Blood thirsty Rout : Nearly allay'd in Manners , Cause and Cry , To that old Tribe that bellow'd , Crucify . But these harsh Sounds were Musick to his Ear , Whose Christian Heart knew neither Guilt nor fear ; Now in the Circle of a Theater , All England did Epitomiz'd appear : Each in their several Ranks themselves diffuse , The Peers to Try , the Commons to Accuse : Lawyers to Plead , Witnesses to Swear , People to gaze , Ladies to see and hear . But this Assembly shall hereafter know , GOD and his Angels were Spectators too . With awful Pomp here Justice seem'd enthron'd , The Sword she bare , the Ballance was post-pon'd . Ah Carver , had thy Steel the force to raise , From Fates Eternal Book these Leaves of Brass , This dismal Scene of Horrour we 'd expunge , Which did in Guilt of Blood a Nation plunge ; For who false Oaths so easily believe , Their Crime resemble those who stoln Goods receive , And through such light Belief if Blood be spilt , No Forms of Justice can wipe off the Guilt . What Cause in this Corrupted Age is try'd , That ever wants an Oath on either side . Judges themselves their way can hardly see , Through the thick Mists of growing Perjury . Shall Oaths for Goods and Land be laid aside , And all receiv'd where Men for Life are Try'd ? Shall neither Profit , Malice , nor ill Fame , Nor Counter-proofs bate this devouring Flame ? Can nothing but Heavens Judgements make it known ? How Earth with Blood and Perjury does groan ? Now with loud Summons , signal of the War , The Cryer calls our Prisoner to the Bar. Some previous Storms and Skirmishes past o'er , The Charge begins , and the great Ordnance roar : The Monster from his Battery rais'd on high , A Thundering Peal of Mortal Oaths let fly , Whilst from the Lawyers Throats in fatal sound In loud repeating Echoes does rebound . Since first the Monster touch'd in English Land , He and the Gown-men went still hand in hand . Who in a formidable League combin'd , To drive All before them , and run down Mankind . 'T is true the Gospel and the Law reveal The ways to future Bliss , and present Weal : But when ill Acts convert them to a Trade , They Guard not , but our Happiness Invade . As Labouring Men their Hands , Cryers their Lungs , Porters their Backs , Lawyers hire out their Tongues . And vilest are those Hirelings who abuse , Their Calling to the most destructive Use : A Tongue to Gain and Hire accustom'd long , Grows quite insensible of Right or Wrong , And true and false with them is Cross and Pile , The Winning side is only worth their while . And of that Tribe some Tongues no less are gor'd , With Blood of Innocents , than Herod's Sword . The Breath of Lawyers and of Peoples Minds Are like the yielding Waves , and blustering Winds ▪ Each Mobile its Driver does obey , These Tempests raise by Land , as those by Sea : And so the Crowd to whose discerning Skill , The greatest Cry is Demonstration still . Second the Charge with Hums and rude Applause , And on the Monster's side pre-judge the Cause . Alas of Peers themselves , this high Degree , From this contagious Frenzy is not free ! That generous Blood which Nobler Veins doth fill , No Faction should enflame , no Fear should chill , They in a higher Region plac'd , should know None of those Popular Storms , which rage below ; But should with serene Thoughts and Courage bold , And with Impartial Hand the Ballance hold : Yet like those Peers of Heaven we find of late , Too many faln from their Exalted State ; And from Attendance on the Highest Throne , To serve a factious Populace sunk down . But still the Fall of the Apostate Band , Makes for their Glory who with firmness stand . Truth will to both be just , Angels that fell The first Distinction made of Heaven and Hell . Now Carver , with some likeness to express Our Hero greater still in his Distress , Proving the Storms , standing the rudest shock , Thy work requires something more firm than Rock ; Of bloody Slanders , who undaunted can The deadly Shock endure , is more than Man . Nothing of Sublunary Growth , or Make , Of that Immortal Temper can partake . We learn this Lesson only from the Chair , Where God and Man joyntly Professors are . No less a Master could make understood A Doctrine so averse to Flesh and Blood . Thus taught , our Champion perfect in his Roll Did honour to his Master and his School ; For with such Calm of Mind and Air serene , As in white Innocents is only seen ; He saw his Life by bloody Oaths atack't , And the dire Charge by a whole Nation backt . He saw his Honour and himself run down , By horrid Hellish Crimes , but none on 's own . Their Crimes they only were who swore them so , And who those Oaths so lightly did allow . It was not to find out Truth they thither came , But like keen Huntsmen to run down the Game . For with design all was so aptly squar'd , Their Tackling and their Tools so well prepar'd , The Oaths were all so positive and home , That for the Lawyers Skill they left no room . They ran at ease , and hardly did blow for 't , For never yet did a false Oath swear short . Our Prisoner wanted not in his Defence Proofs of their Guilt , and his own Innocence . But from such lyes what Pleading can relieve , Which some invent , some swear , and most believe . When byas'd Minds Faction or Fear does fill , They judge not by their Reason , but their Will. All on the Favour'd side they Gospel call , And on the Other side all is Apocriphal . But on these Judges heavy Judgementsly , Who use false Weights when Life and Death they try , And the deciding Ballance hold a wry . Now from the Fatal Urn the Lots are cast , Judgement of Death is on our Hero past . Some when they found him Guilty , wept , but still They did like Crocadiles , both Weep and Kill ; And the Inhumane Verdict to Disguise , As Pilate wash'd his Hands , they wash'd their Eyes . More at the Barr than Block , at H'estminster , Than on Tower-Hill : suffer'd our guiltless Peer . A just Regard must of those few be had , ( The Good are still out-number'd by the Bad. ) Who yielded not to Factions swelling Tide , But follow'd Truth , though on the weaker side , Carver , in Living Brass inscribe their Name , As some Attonment of our Nation 's Shame . Tell future Time how manfully they stood , And durst in such an Age as Ours be Good . Thus of their Glory will thy Work partake , But of the Adverse Part no mention make . Heaven's Retribution will more fully tell Which did in Honour , which in Guilt , Excell . The time is come for Divine Power to shew , When Nature is too weak , what Grace can do . No greater Load on Innocents can ly , Than for a Crime so Infamous to dy . And yet more Unconcern'd than others Give , He does the Sentence of his Death Receive . Of all the Law inflicts , that only Part Which touch'd his Wife and Children , touch'd his Heart ; Nothing but their Undoing rais'd his Fears , His Death in them a Massacre appears . But Heaven's Elixir can our sharpest Pains Convert to Joy , to Liberty our Chains . Can Glory reap where Infamy is sown , Turn Death to Life , our Cross unto a Crown ? Thus in his Carriage none the Marks could see Of a Defeat , but signs of Victory . He march'd with such Assurance from the Bar , As Conquering Generals from a Prosperous War . His seeming Friends thought it not yet too late , ( Since Nature on their side was Advocate ) With the strong Baits of Life , and an Access Of Wealth and State , to draw him to confess . To all the vain Suggestions on their side , Our Christian Hero thus in short reply'd : My Age no less doth give me than the Doom , So near a Prospect of the World to come , That t were a foolish Bargain to Redeem With an Eternal Stain my Inch of Time : By that of others I shall chuse to Dye , Rather than live by my own Perjury . If I confess the Plot my Life 's my own , Then welcom Death , with all its outward Shame , It is my Joy that I Truth 's Martyr am . One would believe by all this mighty Strife , You value more the Plot , than the KING's Life . For the First 's sake , the Last you can forgive ; But no Denyers of the Plot must live : Nor Conscience nor my Honour will Dispence , That I should Murder my own Innocence . And rather than I falsly will expose The Lives of Guiltless Men , my own I 'll lose . Their Art or Friendship was amaz'd to find , So great a Calm and Constancy of Mind ; And when they found eluded every Bait , They gave him up to his own Sullen Fate . But as to Christ , into the Desert led The Tempter vanish'd , Angels did succeed , So did our Hero's Soul ( this Combat past ) An Earnest of Heavens Joyes begin to taste . On GOD spent all his Thoughts , on Prayer his Breath , To his new Purchase he so long'd to go , And take Possession , that Death seem'd too slow . That Tragick Scene to every Eye but his , That Day of Guilt to some , to Him of Bliss , At last appears , and Swarms of People crown'd The Fatal Hill , for Noble Blood renown'd . Of different Temper each his Pleasure finds , Part come with Curious , Part with Cruel Minds : Some only in the Strangeness of the Sight , Others in the Butchery and his Blood , delight . Poor Animals ! how Savage and how Blind , They want the Eyes and Bowels of Mankind . And now to Them and Him the welcom Hour , Summons our Noble Prisoner from the Tower , As some East-Indian Carack homeward bound , Of Earth's vast Globe having gone all the round , Twice cut the Line , and with bold Canvas run Beyond the Limits of its Rival Sun , Making to it's Native Port , the Cheering Gale With Joy each Heart , with Wind fills every Sail : So does our Hero , now from Storms releast , Move to the Scaffold as his place of Rest . Heaven this last Favour does to him afford , To tread the Footsteps of his Dying LORD : In whom live all his Hopes , dye all his Fears , By whom Tower-Hill , Mount Calvary appears . On his Great Leader in his Dying State , He hopes in Glory , as in Death to wait ; And that his Blood , for Crimes pretended , spilt Of his True Sins may cancel all the Guilt . The Scaffold Steps , did Jacob's Ladder seem , The Scaffold was a Monarch's Throne to him : And with such Joy he did resign his Breath , As other Mortals save themselves from Death ; For those who caus'd his Death , was his last Prayer , And his last Words his Innocence declare . Stafford farwell : May thy Pacifick Blood , Of Crimes and Judgments stop the Raging Flood . Our Blindness cure , and by a holy Charm , Of it's Dread Thunder , Angry Heav'n Disarm . In vain their Bloody Guilt some strive to skreen With Forms of Law , and Oaths of Perjur'd Men. What weak Excuse , how slight those Fig-leaves are , Christ and his Martyrs , and King Charles declare . Judge on which side disputed Truth mustly , All swear , these swear and live , these swear and dye , In vain your Bable of a Plot you boast , 'Gainst Heaven and Truth , your Labour will be lost . No more your fancy'd Deluge can prevent , Which must with Blood and Perjury cement . Already 'mongst the workmen by just Doom Of Jarring Tongues the old Confusion's come . Heavens Beacons lighted in a Blazing Star , Too sure a signal of Impending war ! This Corrupt Mass away it self will purge , And all by Turns will be each others Scourge . Then with his Gauls should Brennus hither roll , How will your Geese protect your Capitol . The name of TITVS will hereafter sound , As once in Palestine , on British Ground : A Perjur'd Tongue like Records will afford , Of Slaughters here as there the Victor's Sword , I wish Repentance may their Eyes Unseal , And from their harden'd Hearts remove the Steel , And that the Victims of their Cruelty , As Martyr's Blood Pacifick Hoasts may be . God may for them men's Prayers receive , When they the Prayers of Dying men believe . But if their poyson'd Hearts they will obdure , For such Malignity Heaven has no Cure . Now Carver , thy Instructed Chissel may , To the rude Stones their proper Forms convey . His Glorious Image better Light will give , To make thy Labours and these Numbers live ▪ All other Hero's of a lesser Rate , Owe to the Poets their Immortal State . That lasting green they from their Laurels take , Which does the freshness of their Glory make . But our high Theam this order does reverse , For now the Subject will Embalm the Verse , Which as the Shadow on the Sun doth wait , Will justly , though obscurely Him relate : And in that Noble Office shall out-live These worst of Times , and Time it self survive .

Shaftsbury's Farewell : Or the New Association . GReatest of Men , yet Mans least Friend , farewel ; Wits Mightiest , but most Useless Miracle ; Where Nature all her Richest Treasures stor'd , To make one vast unprofitable Hoard : So High as thine no Orb of Fire can rowl , The Brightest , yet the Most Excentrick Soul ; Whom midst Wealth , Honours , Fame , yet want of ease , No Power could e'er oblige , no State could please ; Be in thy grave with peaceful slumbers blest , And sind Thy whole Life's only Stranger , Rest. Oh , Shastsbury ! had thy Prodigious Mind ! Been to Thy self , and thy Great Master kind , Glory had wanted Lungs thy Trump to blow , And Pyramids had been a Tomb too low . Oh that the World ( Great States-man ) ere should see Nebuchadnezzar's Dream fulfill'd in Thee ! Whilst such low Paths led Thy Great Soul astray , Thy Head of Gold mov'd but on Feet of Clay . Yes , from Rebellions la●e Inhumane Rage , The Crimes and Chaos of that Monstrous Age , As the old Patriarch from Sodom flew , So to Great CHARLES His Sacred Bosom Thou ; But Oh! with more than Lot's Wifes fatal Fault , For which she stood in Monnmental Salt . Though the Black Scene Thy hasting Foot-step flies , Thy soul turns back , and looks with longing Eyes . Ah , Noble Peer , that the Records of Fame Should give ●rostratus and Thee One Name ; Great was his bold Atchievement , Greater Thine , Greater , as Kings than Shrines are more Divine ; Greater , as vaster Toils it did require T' inflame Three Kingdoms , than One Temple fire , But where are all those blust'ring Storms retir'd , That roar'd so loud when Oliver Expir'd ? Storms that rent Oaks , and Rocks assunder broke , And at his Exequies in Thunder spoke . Was there less cause , when Thy last Doom was giv'n , To waken all the Revellers of Heaven ? Or did there want in Belgia's humble Soil A Cedar fit to fall Thy Funeral Pile ? No ; Die , and Heav'n th' Expence of Thunder save , Hush'd as Thy own Designs , down to Thy Grave . So hush'd may all the Portents of the Skie With Thee , our last great Comet 's Influence die : May this One Stroke our lowring Tempests clear , And all the Fiery Trigon finish here . With Thee expire the Democratick Gall ; Thy Sepulchre and Lethe swallow all : Here end the poyson of that Vip'rous Brood , And make Thy Urn like Moses's wondrous Rod ; So may Our Breaches close in Thy One Grave , Till Shaftsbury's last Breath Three Nations save ; And dying thus , t' avert His Countreys Doom , Go with more Fame than Curtius to His Tomb. But is he dead ! How ! Cruel Belgia , say ! Lodg'd in thy Arms , yet make so short a stay ! Ungrateful Countrey ! Barbarous Holland Shoar ! Cou'd the Battavian Climate do no more ! Her Shaftsbury's dear Life no longer save ! What ? a Republick Air , and yet so quick a Oh! all ye scatter'd Sons of Titan weep , This dismal day with solemn Mournings keep ; Like Isral's Molten-Calf your Medals burn , And into Tears your Great Letemur turn ; Oh! wail in Dust , to think how Fates dire frown Has thrown your dear Herculean Column down . Oh , Charon ! waft thy Load of Honour o'er , And land Him safely on the Stygian Shoar : At His Approach , Fames loudest Trumpet call Cromwel , Cook , Ireton , Bradshaw , Hewson , all , From all the Courts below , each well pleas'd All the Republick Legions numerous Host , Swarm thick , to see your Mighty Heroe land , Crowd up the Shoar , and blacken all the Strand ; And , what'ere Chance on Earth , or Pow'rs accurst , Broke all your Bonds , your Holy Leagues all burst : This Union of the Saints no Storm shall sever , This Last ASSOCIATION holds for ever .

Dagon's Fall : Or Sir William Waller turn'd out of Commission . GOod GOD ! what means this sudden Alteration ! The Fop that has so long disturb'd the Nation , By 's Pride , and Pomp , and Pow'r , is now Turn'd out , And hardly pity'd by the silly Rout. He was as stout , and lofty as old Hector , Usurp'd the Power of our damn'd Protector ; As Fierce and Cruel as a Tyger's whelp , He wanted neither strength , nor art , nor help To do and undo ; he was grown so great , That the Creation was amaz'd to see 't . He had his Coach and Horses , Footmen too , And into th' City rode , to make a shew ; But little thought when drawn by Whitaker His fatal downfal it had been so near ▪ To put a Sword into a Madmans hand , It may make Bloody Work within the Land . Papists and Protestants were all alike , Both sent to lodge with Church and thin-jaw'd Dyke . No Day scarce pass'd without some mischief done , Into all Companies the Fool did run . The Goaler sure gave him a snack of Fees , For Prisoners flock'd even like a Swarm of Bees . Here Ten were sent him for a Popish Plot , There Two more to please a Buggering Sot . Then a New Plot is feign'd , and more secur'd , 'Uds flesh , my Friends , this cannot be endur'd ! Printers , Apprentices , and many more , In all I do believe near twice two score . They all are Plotters , yet by Jove not one , Can tell you what was said , or what was done . The Gate-house is become a Babel now , Confusions came upon us none knew how , But he that wrought the Mischief now is found , 'T will puzzle any man to prove him sound . He 's rotten at the Heart I 'll lay my Life , No wonder he begot us all this Strife . Well , now the Cause is gone , the effect will cease , I hope we shall enjoy our former Peace . This Leaven leaven'd the whole Lump , And made us fear another sawcy Rump . He study'd out new Plots , and for what ends ? Only to please his Presbyterian Friends . Ah but my Friend , thou thy last Dice hast thrown , For which the Presbyters begin to groan , Thy buisie active Soul ( I do not jest ) Had lately sent it a Quietus est . And that which doth thy Grief and Sorrow double , Thou art not Rich for all thy needless trouble Soul take thine ease , thou very well mai'st sing . For thou hast got a Writ of ease from th' King : Thou hast much Goods laid up for many years , Say that , and I will give thee both my E●●s . Leave but the Factious out , go through the City , Thou wilt not find a Man enclin'd to pity . Hang him cries one , he was a buisie Knave , He shew'd no Mercy , nor he none shall have . Mischief was all his aim , and his design , When he brought Hickey to a glass of Wine . The mischief which so eagerly he sought For others , he himself too dearly bought : But I am almost weary of my Rhimes , For I consider these are Trayterous Times . Had but this buisie Fool his late Commission , This wou'd have cost me a devout Submission ; I had been surely sent to Goal for Treason As Thompson was , and had a greater Reason ▪ But God be thanked curst-Cows have short Horns , He must and shall endure our Flouts and Scorns . We may go boldly on , and fear no fall ; No painted Staff will answer at his Call . Now he is down , down with him , now 's the Season ; For if he rise he 'l Goal us all for TREASON .

A Dialogue betwixt the Devil and the Ignoramus Salamanca Doctor . Devil . B●hold from the Infernal Lake I 'm come , To fright thy Soul to it's Eternal Doom : To tell thee , Villain , that thy Reign 's expir'd , And now be sure thou shalt no longer hir'd ●e by Me , no , nor any of the Damn'd , To drench in Innocent Blood this mournful Land . Hence then begone , and do no more pursue Villanies Hell could ne'er act , but by you : Now Heaven stops my Power , and I thy Hand , And now I tell thee , Doctor , Thou art damn'd . Doctor . O Spectre ! spare a while my dreadful Doom ! Go back and tell the Damn'd , I come , I come ; Only let me compleat the Ills I 've begun , Then Heaven farewel , and unto You I come . Devil . The Blood o' th' Innocent aloud does cry , Revenge , Revenge , on cursed Doctor Ti — No more o' th' Innocent shall bleed , nor die . Doctor . Well , the time 's come , the fatal day 's at hand , That I for ever , ever must be damn'd : O curs'd Revenge ! what Mischiefs have I done ? Abjur'd the Father , and blasphem'd the Son . The Sacred Spirit of Truth at once have I Banish'd ; and that my vengeance I might buy , I 've caus'd the best of Innocents to dye . See where their Ghosts appear in Purple ray'd , afresh ; Victims , by Perjury alone betray'd : See how they shake their Heads , and bleed Their wounds gape wide in their new murder'd flesh ; And these most frightful Visions come , cause I Th' bloody Villanous Murderer stand by . 'T is true , that I the cruel Murderer am , And thousands more by Perjury to trepan I solemnly did vow , and often swear , And none t' escape , from the Peasant to the Peer ; Nay Sacred Prelates , Princes , Queens and Kings , Should have made up my Bloody Offerings . Ten Thousand more of Innocents had dy'd , 'Cause I King , Queen , and Duke had Sacrific'd : Cities and Towns I 'd Fir'd , if not withstood , And quench'd the flames with Innocent Blood . Let me but live in this world three years more , This Island then shall swim in Christian gore ; I 'le subvert Governments , and murder Kings , Sow discord among Friends ; I 'le do such things Shall make the World believe there is not that Villanous thing I have not power to act : I 'le make the World believe ( let me but stay ) That Light is Darkness , and that Night is Day ; That I the Saviour of the Nation am , And that CHRIST was of no avail to Man ; Then I the Sacred Gospels will destroy , Swear they 'r but fictious Stories , and a Lye ; Perswade them that the Bible's but a Farce , No more to be esteem'd than is my A — So I 'le improve the Art of Perjury , That none who are not skill'd in Villany Shall live ; thus will I fit this Isle for Hell , And then adieu the World , and Heaven farewel . Thus I a Learned Doctor will commence , And by the People be ador'd for Nonsence , And with Sedition I their Souls will influence . Devil . Peace thou prophane wretch , hold Villain , hold , For now with Heaven and Earth thou art too bold , And I must tell thee , another Winter old Thou shalt not be , thy life and Soul are sold : When flat on th' Altar Thou thy self didst lay , Remember that thou gav'st thy Soul away To me ; and swor'st for ever thou 'dst be mine , Mightst thou but compass thy Hellish Design ; To imbrue thy Hands in Innocent Blood , And murder all who had the face of good : Devils and Hell thou hast in this outdone , By thy damn'd Perjury i th' face o th' Sun ▪ Hence then be gone to Hell , away , away , For in this place thou shalt no longer stay . [ Spoken by an old Acquaintance ] Why how now Doctor , vanish'd fled and gone , What none but Monsieur Devil and You alone ? Are all your Papists come to this damn'd end . Thus to be hamper'd and ridden by a Fiend ? Unpitiedly ; blaspheme and groan thy last , Belch forth thy unhallow'd Soul , and blast Hell it self , with thy unsanctified Breath , And groveling i th' shades of Eternal Death , I leave thee . Ha , ha , ha , ha , poor Doctor , Good Night little good Mr. Devil's Doctor .

Tyburn's Courteous Invitation to TITUS OATES , the Salamanca Doctor . OH ! name it once again ; will Titus come ? My dearest , hopeful , that long-wish'd for One , For whom my Triple Arms extended were , ( To hug with close Embraces ) many a year . Haste ! haste ! my choicest Darling , whom I love , And thy long-promis'd kindness let me prove . That Right Thou plead'st for , which indeed 's thy due , Though Others I 've deny'd , I 'll grant it You : The World shall find I willingly will bear , And dance thy Carcase 'twixt the Earth and Air. In Hemp'n-string I 'll lull thee fast asleep , And prevent all the Dangers of the Deep . Oh , how I love thee ! 'cause I 've heard thou 'st been So well acquainted with all kinds of Sin , And , with a false and strange Religious Guise , Destroy'd the Innocent , abus'd the Wise . What crafty Lessons didst thou teach to men ! How to Rebell , and told the time best when ; Urg'd to Exclude a Right and Lawful Heir , Unthrone a King , and swore away a Peer . Thy Zeal through two-inch-Boards was plainly seen , When Satan prompt thee to swear 'gainst the Queen : Besides those many guiltless Souls that dy'd A Sacrifice to thy Luciferian Pride . Yet , yet , beloved Titus , my dear Son , ( Reputed Saviour , for thy Mercies shewn , ) And well maist claim my Palace as thine own : Thou 'lt find me kinder far than Courtiers ; I Will never turn thee out unril thou die : And , since White-hall has left thee , I 'll provide That Lodging for Thee , where old Noll was ty'd .

The REFORMATION . ASATYR . Tempora mutantur , & nos mutamur in illis . HOW Roman-like did our Old Rebel Dye , With His last breath profaning Majesty ? And braving Heav'n it self , He w'd not stay ( Lest 't were a piece of cowardise ) to Pray . And cannot all this Gallantry Engage Some Zealot , spurr'd up to Poetick Rage ? But not a word — there 's not one Ballad made , Curtis I see , will have but slender Trade , For Rhymers now begin to Renegade : I wonder'd not at Converts of the Cits , Yet still I thought some Epidemick Wits Wou'd ne're have Grace enough for Proselytes . But edifying Ketch does seldom fail , And when All miss , He 's certain to prevail . Jack's a great Bug-bear — for his very sight Did our bold Whiggish Oracles so fright , That there 's not one of all the Canting Fry , Can write a failing Brothers Elegy . Nay , lesser yet — Their Club will not afford A Farewel Speech ; unless 't be for a Lord . The meaner Tyburn Saints have nought to say , Besides their Pater Noster , and Away — A way they march to their true Friends below Cursing the blabbing H—rd as they go . But Shafts smiles to see 'em come so thick , For He 's resolv'd to play another trick , And have one Bout at Politick Old Nick : For Stephen Vows they cannot live in Hell , Except they make the little Dev'ls Rebel , And after , Vote it to a Common-weal . 'T is pleasant , Faith , to see a Babe of Grace Masking Geneva Looks with Loyal Face ; Then gravely tell you that He never stood Too fierce a Stickler for the Brother-Hood And ne'er meant Mischief , but for Publick g●od . Thus Pious Wh— deeply Read in Lives , French Leagues , Scotch Covenants , and Narratives , Though ( the next Oxford sitting ) He design'd T' Impeach Minc'd Pyes as Popishly inclin'd , Has now made tender Conscience so comply , He 'll allow Surplice , Cross , and Litany . Nay any thing , for th' Godly Reformade Seems so to hate the Salamank● Trade , That now a Passive Lecture He 'll disgest , As well as Meroz at Forbidden Feast , Tho' Jeakel spoke with sacred Nonsence blest . Next Bethel wisely turning with the Tide , Thinks to shake off the once-Beloved-Side , And doth the whole Design so much resent , You 'd almost Swear , He lov'd the Government : Yet still He closely favours the Intrigue , And quits the Sh— from his Holy League . Arn — that early Martyr for the Cause , So maul'd in Jack'napes Lane by Popish Claws , Was pity'd , till some Tell-tales understood That He , like Priest of Baal , in zealous mood , First Scratch'd Himself , and then did Murder cry , And hang'd a Brace of Tories by the by , No Engine kills like a Religious Lye . But He , and Stout Sir Tr— ( that cou'd Vote For Freedom with as Popular a Note As any of the House ) begin to shrink , Humbling themselves with Penitential Chink . So W—ms , who the same brave Motto wore As Cataline , and Cassius , did before , Doth now His Latine Poesie Paraphrase , Will 's For the King , ( If not against His Grace And Tr— laying down that Great Command , Will All His Taunton Forces now Disband . And thus , Forsooth , whilst Loyalty's in Fashion , W' are like to have a Hopeful Reformation , But Subtile Roger bids Us have a Care , 'T is dang'rous yet to Trust these Saints too far , 'T is Ten to One , if Jove's Great Mercy can Of Whig , or Trimmer , make an Honest Man .

Advice to His GRACE . AWake , vain man ; 't is time th' Abuse to see ; Awake , and guard thy heedless Loyalty From all the Snares are laid for It and Thee . No longer let that buisie juggling Crew ( Who to their own mis deeds entitle You , ) Abuse Your Far : Consider , Sir , the State Of our unhappy Isle , disturb'd of late With causeless Jealousies , ungrounded Fear , Obstinate Faction , and Seditious Care ; Gone quite distracted for Religion's sake ; And nothing their hot brains can cooler make , ( So great 's the deprivation of their sence , ) But the excluding of their lawful Prince : A Prince , in whose each Act is clearly shown , That Heaven design'd him to adorn a Throne ; Which ( tho' He scorns by Treason to pursue , ) He ne'er will quit , if it become His due . Then lay betimes your mad Ambition down ; Nor let the dazling Lustre of a Crown Bewitch your Thoughts ; but think what mighty care Attends the Crowns that Lawful Princes wear ; But when ill Title 's added to the Weight , How insupportable's the Load of State ! Believe those working Brains Your Name abuse ; You only for their Property do use : And when they 'r strong enough to stand alone ; You , as an useless Thing , away'l be thrown . Think too , how dear you have already paid , For the fine Projects Your false Friends had laid . When by the Rabbles fruitless Zeal You lost Your Royal Fathers Love , Your growing Fortune cross'd ; Say , was Your Bargain , think ye , worth the Cost ? Remember what Relation , Sir , you bear To Royal Charles ; Subject and Son You are ; Two Names that strict Obedience does require ; What Frenzy then does your rash Thoughts inspire , Thus by Disloyal Deeds to add more Cares , To them of the bright Burden that he wears ? Why with such eager speed hunt You a Crown You 're so unfit to wear , were it Your own ? With Bows , and Legs , and little Arts , You try , A rude , unthinking Tumults Love to buy : And he who stoops to do so mean a Thing , Shows , He , by Heaven , was ne're design'd for King . Would you be Great ? do Things are Great and brave And scorn to be the Mobile's dull Slave : Tell the base Great Ones , and the shouting Throng , You scorn a Crown worn in another's wrong . Prove Your high Birth by Deeds Noble and Good ; But strive not to Legitimate your Blood . Ephelia .

The Solicitous Citizen : Or Much-ado about NOTHING . COntinual Hubbub , and the noise of Plot , Idle Suspicions of he knows not what , The Pope , the Devil , and the ●rench , five years Have ( it enslav'd to Jealousies and ●ears ; Nor any Prospect yet of Peace appears : Bandy'd about 'twixt Credit and Despair , Who 's safe ( he cries ) while such Designs there are ? And ( what is more perplexing ) can't tell where . No , though of late he to his side have got TITVS , that Devil at cold scent of Plot ; But he ( poor Cur ) at Oxford lost his Fame , Where he Ran counter , to 's eternal shame ; There the base man , Disloyal and Vnjust , A second time prov'd Traytor to his Trust : In vain from him Discoveries you hope ; The Cur ( Pox on him ) 's foil'd ; A Rope , a Rope . But this to ●it no satisfaction gives ; He 's still uneasie , and in Fear he lives : C●ies , there are others who can find out Plots , ( And Make perhaps ) as well as Dr. Oats ; Says , Wiser Heads than his the City Rule ; ( Or else said , Each Cit had been a I ovl . Say what ye will , we will secure our Home , Be all in readiness at Beat of Drum ; Who knows how soon the K. of France may come ? The Guards each night , you 'd split to see the Farce , ( Like Rattle-Snakes , with Bandaleers at A — Ty'd to long Swords , and drest in Greasie Buff , Majestic Porters ) through the City huff ; Whilst Leader , Fore-horse-like , the Pageant mak●s With formal strut , and 's gawdy Tassel shakes . In this brave Pomp they march to Rendesvouze , And there from Nine till Six securely bouze . In damn'd Mundungus , and as nasty Nantz , They curse the Pope , and huff the K. of France . Does but poor whore about their Quarters budge Whom undkind Stars do force till Ten to trudge ; Stait brustling Myrmidon cries , Who comes there ? Stand , or I 'll fire ; or stir a foot that dare ; Raises the Guards , ( for such Alarms are common ) Two hundred men to seize on one poor Woman . Why here so late ? ( cries Leader ) On what score ? What are you ? I 'm a Woman . You 're a Whore : And , Fellow Buff-Coats , a suspicious One : For ought I know , the Whore of Babylon . As you say Captain , it may be Pope Joan. Such Feats as these our mighty Dons of war Perform , to show the world how much they dare , And then to judge what plaguy Curs they are . But here dull Cit is out in 's Policy , While he on woman does his Manhood try : Credulous Ass , there 's no more gross mistake , Citizens Wives Beasts of their Husbands make . Believe me Cit , thou 'dst better far neglect The Plots Abroad , and those at Home inspect : Need'st no Contriving Jesuits fear , but th' Leagues of Wife with Courtier , th' Islington Intrigues . Was it well known to each contented Sot What 's done at home , how Jacky was Begot , He 'd be more jealous of his Wife than th' Plot. But of all Pates , Cit has the softest one ; ( The better ( cries the Wife ) to Graft upon ; ) But he by such damn'd Dulness is undone : While on him ev'ry Rascal puts a Trick , Care , Curtis , Baldwin and Seditious Dick : Such Rogues as these do still Suspicions give , And make new Plots that no man can believe : One buzzes This , one That Report in 's Ear ; One makes him hope , another makes him fear , Just like four Mastiff-Dogs upon one Bear . Thus curious Cit these Plaguy Rascals mawl , Who knows not which the True or False to call , But honestly ( dull Soul believes 'em All. This makes 'em in the City chuse alone To vent their Libels ; for there can't be shown One Treason-Writer at our end o' th' Town : These are the Knaves who make the Cits suspect Their Prince , that he their Safety does neglect , Whose only Care ( Heav'n knows ) is to protect : These are the Villains who our Jars increase , Nor till they 're Hang'd can we e're hope for Peace . Each Cobler's Statesman grown , and the bold Rable Convert each Ale-house-Board to Council-table ; One censures this , another blames that fashion , And thus they settle the Affairs o' th' Nation : On Votes and Councils are their Judgments past , And in what form they please Affairs they cast ; Thus Colledge did , but he was hang'd at last .

The CHARTER . A Comical SATYR . Fire ! Fire ! Fire ! Help , for we 're all in Flames ! Pra● come ▪ for the good Lords sake of Three Names ! Sons ●● Commitees , and Sequestrators , Old Rebe●● , and new Associators ; Call t●● 〈◊〉'd Officers , and Justice , ( Whose Mettle like to be eat with Rust is , ) Step to the Synagogue , and Jenkins Pew , Call all the Gentiles , and knock up the Jew ; For such curs'd Wild-fire's amongst us thrown , ( Worse than the Jesuits ) 't will burn's quite down ; A Vengeance Fi●e-ball call'd Quo Warranto , Will bring all our hopes to Achoranto . AS Sampson's Strength up in his Hair was ty'd , Rebellions Strength was in the Charter hid ; Late in a Trumpet Treason every Punk Could speak ; now't must be wisper'd through a Trunk ; By ●harter , Brother Traytor we could free , Now there 's no Priviledge for Perjury : Next time my Lord , beware the Medal-house . Though we 'd be damn'd for 't , we can't save your souse ; We 've done as much for you as men could do , Ventur'd our Souls , and lost our Charter too . And is that all ? Come , ben't crest-fall'n , make shift And bear up , Ill help you at a dead lift ; Something may yet be done , though we daren't touch On Meal Tub-Plots lest caught i' th' Bollinghutch . How says your Lordship , ( for your Honour 's free ) Capital Member of our Company ; And you know well that 't is out of Fashion , ( For Tradesmen to sink in Desperation ; ) Methinks , though we broke at State ( for sins , ) We may drive the old Trade of Cony-skins , And Kid-knapping ? Sell Brock and Dog-skin-Muff , And country Captains cheat with Horse skin-Buff ? We must imploy our Talents , still , devise , A hundred Prodigies , and Prodigious Lyes ; The Hook of Popery won't take small Fish now , ( fy on 't ) the French have quite marr'd all , The Whore of Babylon , and Antichrist He hath ground to powder and spoil'd our Grist ; Who would have thought that Vnchristian King Would stop our Mouths with such a Christian thing ? But yet we 'l sigh , and groan , and shake the head , In time Rebellion may be brought to Bed , With good Midwifery , and good Wives aid , To whom such Tales as these must still be said ; How a Child spoke as soon as born we 'll tell ; ( Perhaps before , to ears that could hear well ; ) Tell Northern men how Six Suns did appear At once i' th South ; to Southern , Eight Moons there . Then for a touch of Prophecies we 'l say , The Isle O Brazeel but the other day Appear'd to a good Master of a Ship , Where an old woman that gave Death the slip E're since the Deluge , told him , that the Time Of the Saints Government was now at Prime ; Down goes Baalam , Ashteroth and Dagon , Down goes Bell , and then up goes the Dragon . But now let 's gybe the Sail , and catch the Wind And make a tack to fetch you up behind . There was a time ( they say ) since the World stood , You had a Charter never to be good . Have you forgot your Routs and Ryots , when You forc't the best of Kings , and best of Men To fly from 's Royal Pallace , and betake Himself to Forest-shelter , and the brake ? When the Divine Magicians of your Town Chang'd you to Wolves and Dogs to hunt him down ? Have you forgot how you the Queen did force , And High-born Issue to a sad Divorce From their Royal Father ? Have you forgot How you made th' Crown and Miter go to pot ? First Clamour , then Petition , Last you bring Rebellion , a compleat Sin-Offering : Say Obediah , tell me if you please , Had you a Charter for such Tricks as these ? Once more Beloved ; Have you forgot when Beat up for Bankrupt and Religious Thrums ? When Hungry Levites and starv'd Prentices Sally'd from their dark Cells and Penthouses , And like the Plagues of Egypt spreads all o're , Some for to stench us , all for to devour ? Have you forgot how you did Stab the King And Church , with Bodkin , Thimble , Spoon and Ring , And like the Indians prostitute your selves , For th' Devilish Idols of your Cause and Elves ? Say Annanias , tell me if you please , Had you a Charter for such Tricks as these ? Surely the Act of Amnesty is split On those claim pardon , won't renounce the Guilt ; A Realm divided 'gainst it self can't stand , Nor City , if by such as you 't were man'd ; In vain are Oaths and Witnesses , if th' Shreive Can pack a Jury , that will not believe : A Turk's a good Evidence , ( 't is very true ) Against a Christian not against a Jew . The Pope and Conclave sure have chang'd their Nests , And took your Quarters up within your Breasts ; Their high Prerogatives to You resign'd , Can damn the Innocent , and saint the Fiend ; Or else your Conscience and Religion Are inspir'd with Mahomet's Pidgeon , A Race of Chequer-work that 's intertext With the worst Christian and worst Jew mixt , A kind of circum uncircumcised kind , Can Swear the Body , and not swear the Mind ; ( As Senators ( for to get in ) must Swear ; Then keep the COVENANT to Depose the Heir ; ) And all this 's done by virtue of the Full Charta pro Causa , and a Tub-Pulpit full , Sons of Oedipus , we know you enough , The mark of Cain is graven on your Brow ; Not for the Churches , nor for the Crown-Land , But for the Twelve Apostles 't is you stand . St. Paul for London , St. Peter for Rome , Judas for the Suburbs till the day of Doom ; 'T is not the first time you have shew'd your Leige , How you hate Idols , but love Sacriledge ; 'T is hard to say , to whom we 're most in Debt , To the Jesu , or to the Judas-it ; Lyons and Vnicorns support our Arms , But these are th' Beasts that do support our Harms . Now to the Quo Warranto we must Tack , Joyn my Lord's Kennel to the City Pack ; Speak , Joller , Jolly , Jewel , Whig-dog ; Quest , Bouncer , Bawler , Blew-lips , and the rest . O Divine Charter , It would burst my heart , If th' Ark from Israel should thus depart ! But don't bring Pleas as vast as th' Book of Martyr T' obstruct Justice , and prolong your Charter ; Speak to th' point good Brother , what can'st say To keep this Charter ever and for ay ? Please You my Lord , our Charter's sacred made By Grants so many , none can it invade ; Of Twenty Kings and Senats hath the Seal . The Pope had more before he did Rebel Against the Law of God and of the King , He was confiscate for the self-same thing ; The Law 's the Rule of Peace , it doth not jar In 't self , it hath no Repugnance , nor War . If Kings themselves can't give their Crowns away , Then Kings by Law can't Themselves betray . Look you Brother , here You have Misus'd Your Charter , and the known Laws abus'd ; Ryots and Routs , You that should them suppress , You have promoted to a great Excess ; You have pick'd Juries , pack'd them for your Cause , And this destroys the Fundamental Laws ; You that should Schism and Faction quell , support Vnlawful Meetings , and to them resort ; What shall I say of Oaths ? You Allegiance Swear To day , to morrow would expel the Heir ; Whose Crimes beyond all Presidents go , Forfeit their Cha●●els , and their Charter too . To this we answer , Let the sinner die , A Tooth for a Tooth , and Eye for Eye ; Let the Transgressors of the Law be lasht , But do not let the Law it self be dasht ; Things that have Sanction of long time , and great Authority , should not be lightly set . In days of old , when Subjects Innocence , Virtue and Goodness did oblige their Prince ; The greatness of the Monarch's mind was such , They thought good Subjects could not have too much ; But yet they ne're intended publick wrong By private Act , that 's but an ill-tun'd Song ; They us'd their Charter meerly to support The Government , You to betray the Fort ; And 't was not Sodom's sins , But 't was the Men Cast Town and Charter in the Sulphrous Fen ; Your Oracle hath spoke , and 't must be so ; Carthago delenda est , down ' t must go . Where now do all our Learn'd Chaldeans keep ? Be our Soothsayers and ‛ Strologers asleep ? I' th' Blazing Stars Predictions was a Flaw ; You said Antichrist for Anti-Law . Oft men of Art by Figure take that Scope To mean the Charter , when they nam'd the Pope ; Well , there 's no help for 't now , she must be stript That 's caught a Whoring , and severely Whipt ; The doubt of Tyrany late turn'd your Maw ; How do You like this Governing by Law ? When Lunaticks are in their Frantick fits , 'T is the best Expedient to reduce their Wits . Son of a Slave , is 't not enough to cheat Fools of their Money , but you must defeat Them of their Souls ? Duties to their GOD and Prince ? Was this the Trade you 're bound to 10 years since ? Sell your Pole-davis , pack up your false Ware , And be content to cheat your Chap-men there ; You ne're were Prentice to a States-man sure ! Say some Great Knave , ( to draw thee to this Lure , ) Should stroke thee on the addle head , and cry ; Come honest Tom , ( Thou know'st better than I ) We 're like to have sad times you see ; Religion groans , and bleeding Liberty ; The honest subject he must be disgrac'd , And every sober Officer displac'd ; We can't keep Feast nor Fast for th' Nations good , But all 's misconstru'd and misunderstood ; The Plot is vanish'd , and the Duke appears ; Tom , han't we cause for Jealousies and Fears ? Perhaps thou sigh'st then till thy Buttons Crack , And ( as thy Soul was tort'ring on the Rack ) From the Vesuvus of thy smoaking Zeal , Thou bellow'st forth this lamentable Peal . Ah! My dear Lard ! Happy the Womb that bore , ‛ An heart so Noble , Israel can deplore , ‛ In such sad Times as these when Woes us shroud , ‛ That Moses will conduct us in a Cloud ! ‛ We are all grieved with Extremities , ‛ And Pharaoh's deaf to all our Plaints and Cries 'Our Wills with Bridle , and our Mouths with Bitt ‛ Are held by force , our Sanhedrims shan't sit ; ‛ We can't stoop down to Baal ; Saints that have right 'To Judge the Earth are Ravish'd of their might ; 'Our Handsare Fetter'd , and our Hearts complain , ‛ That free-born Spirits should be thrall'd in Chain ; ‛ These , and ten thousand grievances we have ; ‛ But you must save poor dying Souls from th' Grave . ‛ Sweet Lord , [ But Orpheus , ] who should take the pain 'To bring Euridice from Hell again ? How drooping ? [ quoth my Lord ? ] hold up good Tom , Of my Spirit of Sulphur take a Dram ; Though at a Slight or two , wer'e almost gone , He 's a poor Juggler , that ha'nt more tricks than one , I 'le call my familiar , — Presto appear ; He comes , — and whispers in my Ear. Courage Monsieur , and do not be dismaid , From Pluto's Councel-Board , I 'le still bring aid ; Stand but your ground , and doubt no overthrow , Whilst there 's a Fury in the deep below ; Fig for the Globe and Scepter too to boot , The Trades-man's Yard is longer by a Foot ; Be Impudent enough , Affronts repeat , Nothing so brave as th' Base to brow the Great . A thousand ways , a thousand Wiles we 'l try , In Town must set the Stygian Company , Whose Country Factors must retail their Wares From House to House as do the Scotchmen theirs . Complain of Taxes in time of Wars ; In Peace of Trade , and evil Councellors ; Invet'rate Letchers when their Lust departs , To keep the Sports up , they must use new Arts. We must the Crowns Prerogative impair , The Negative voice in th' Commons declare , To Counterfeit the COIN 't is Treason made , But not the PRINCES Power to invade ; 'T is Orthodox the longest Day you live , Your Rights t' Encroach , and Rob th' Prerogative . Slight all the Kings Alliances , disgrace Foreign Embassadors in every place ; Say that Ben Hadu Otor's scarce half man'd [ Though wiser far ] than all our Knaves i' th' Land ; We are all Brethren , and we now must plow With all our Heifers , Might and Main must bow ; Every new Moon a new Parliament can't Re-mind the Folk , that they 're the Government ; We shall have one at last I 'me sure , and then We 'l make such Senators shall make us Men : The Tide may turn , States have their Ebb and Flow , And we may catch them when the Water 's low ; Children must be provided for , and Wars May hap , Crowns themselves are not free from cares ; Then Money must be had , our Silver Coin Shall buy good part of Pharaoh's Golden Mine ; We are all Tradesmen now , and what we give 'T shall be but Bartring for Prerogative ; Fetch the Adressors up , and scour the Coast Of all the Tories and abhorring Hoast ; Hang up the Judges , and Grand-Juries clap Close in Goals that stood i' th' Royal Gap ; Dawn but that day , ( quoth Tom ) and we will Sing , A Headless Council and a Headless King . Hold quoth my Lord , too fast , now you ramble ; ( Quoth Tom ) to keep pace wi' y' I must amble . Bless me my Stars ! Can such as these men be The Bulwarks of our Church and Liberty ? Send them to the Morocco in Exchange For 's Estriches and Lyons , they 're Beasts more strange . The French 't is said , Fees any one that 's rare , Pray Cross the Waters , and to Him repair ; If there be any Spirits that excell You in Sedition , they must come from Hell . We know the idol of your Charter's dear To you , as Laban's Gods to Rachel were In her pollutions which she slily hid , Because all search their Modesty forbid ; But your pollutions in your Charter Reign . And hope it shall your wickedness maintain . No Date of Time , no Power on Earth can give Such Sanction as to make Corruption live . But Master Ignoramus , make right view ; And sure 't is not your Charter squints , but You ; There 's no such thing as the Kings friends shall bleed , And 's Mortal Enemies for Treason free'd . You 're fine Fellows to Judge the twelve Tribes ; I fear By Magna Charta you will scarce sit there : Cabbage twice boild's stark naught , and th' discourse ( You know ) in Pulpit still the same , is worse . Consider Rabby , You are wise and sage , Rebels and Jubilees thrive but once an Age : Alas you know it was but th' other Day With Drum and Trumpet , Fool and Knave this Play Was Acted to our cost of Lives and Ore , Pack up your Nawls , we 'll be deceiv'd no more : Grant some great Lord or two did chance to jar ( With Cedars well as Shruhs , such Chances are ; ) But yet methinks , the Twigs should grateful be To th' Root that gave them all their Bravery . Malice ne're want's for Mischief , and Revenge Is dearer much to Mortals , than the Fringe Of Heav'n ; The Soul of Body and ' State ; And ev'ry Nerve's imploy'd to serve its Hate . The cunning and the crafty must be bought , The young and sportive ; they are easy caught ; The discontented they must be left alive , With hopes of his ambitious Retrieve ; Sticks of all sorts and sizes it must get , To make the Flame , and to increase the heat ; And still Religion makes the Oven red , Or else quite spoild's the Batch of Ginger-bread . Then crawl the Insects forth , their Kingdom 's come , Still where the Carrion is those Creatures rome , And buzzing up and down the Town they cry , For Liberty , and for Truth we 'll die . To Hang for Rascals first , I wish you 'd try . Ha●k Villains , hark ! Your base Rebellious Lust , And your ●oyalties have the self-same gust ; Your Goats Blood cannot itch so much , to down With Both as we to prop the Church and Crown . I saw your Spells ( the Votes ; ) 't was bravely done ; As with the Father you 'd deal with the Son , I 've seen your Martyr's , Peters , Scot , and Viner , Sainted in Gold , with Colledge the Joyner . I 've seen your Pamphlets , Libels Books of print ; Such ne're before came from the Devil's Mint . I 've seen the Doctors Depositions too ; And faith he 's done as much as man could do . Won't all this Old-new-found-Art do the work , To pull the King down , and set up the Kirk ? What ? No Cornucopia to be found ? Be all our Knights-Templers laid under ground ? Are our Braves good for nothing , but to lap Th' infected droopings of a silver Tap ? Alas ! we want Ingredients ; Give Us a Parliament that shall ever live , And the Militia , we 're compleatly Blest ; CESAR do that , and then , Sir , do your best . What Snake-hair'd Fury with Infernal Brand , Broke loose from Hell thus to inflame the Land ? Shall we be jealous of our blest Content , Till cracking th' strings , we break the Instrument ? Shall our Arch-Angel of the Devil's See Drown'd Four and twenty of our Hierarchy ; And by a whirl-wind from the Stygian-Lake , A Glorious Monarch , and Three Kingdoms wreck ? Down Asmodeus , down to the burning Pits , Where thy Councel of State in Brimstone sits : In that dark Conclave let thy Envy range : Changing but That , never expect more change . Here Pity checks my Spleen , and who can tell Good Angels sorrows , when the Train too fell ? But they were blest with great perfection , And ( though seduc'd ) the Crime was All their Beneath the Firmament it is not so , Here 's imperfection in the High and Low. One Lucifer on Earth may dangerous prove , More than a Legion to One Saint above . But see ! the Murder'd Martyrs Ghosts appear ! Your Native Prince and Fathers Shades stand there ! Lend Them your Eyes , the Rabble not your Ear. And what would the mad Rabble have ? Let 's try : And who would ask , but one as mad as I ? Can the turbulent wind tell why it blows ? Gr tumbling Ocean why it Ebbs and Flows ? The senceless Rabble's but that Dust which flies With every puff of wind into our eyes : It makes you pur-blind , and defiles your Shooes ; Rather to piss on 't than to court it choose . I 'll dare the Sun , which hath survey'd the Earth Ever since Eve gave Cain and Abel Birth ; In all his Travels , if he can declare A people Franchis'd as the English are ? All others Birth-right Bondage is ; but We Surfeit with Cates , and glut with Liberty . If Heaven should bid a Subject to implore What bliss we want , he could not ask for more ; Oh the unhappy state of Happiness ! They enjoy more that do enjoy much less ; Rome in it's Pomp and Pride could never shew Men of that bulk of Wealth in England flow ; And every Cottager lives frank and free As Jove , Here 's a perpetual Jubilee : Hear one great Truth an English Subject sings , We have one Emperour , and a Million Kings .

To the KING . Celestial Prince , descended from above , With Goodness , and the wisdom of great Jove ; Hov'ring the Doves with thy Seraphick Wings , Still Shielding Church and State from Serpents Stings , Accept the Addresses of our Humble praise 'T is all the Incense Men to God can raise . When civil War Three Kingdoms did inthrall , You were the Saviour that Redeem'd us all , And rais'd miraculously from their Graves , Thre Soul-sunk Nations that were Slaves to Slaves ; Mean Thanks do mighty favours quite disgrace , But dull Ingratitude becomes the base : How Justly may'st thou let thy Thunder fly ? Both Giants and Pigmies doom'd to dye . What , will they war with Jove ? in vain , in vain ; Whom th' Gods have Crown'd , in spight of Worms shall Reign ; Repent proud Dust before it he too late , Strike Sail ; my Muse shall be your Advocate . Hear great Apollo , Phoebus lend thine Ear To an unpolisht Muse's humble Prayer . She lifts no Phaetontick palm on high ; Lo , her request is veil'd with Modesty ; Thou that art goodness Essence , Thou that keeps Clemency waking that she never sleeps ; Look on the Errours of Mortality , With the kind Aspect of your God-like Eye . Though they have sin'd ( and certainly a Sin To death , had it against a bad Prince been , ) And their Transgressions in an high degree , Are aggravated to sin thus against Thee ; My poor Muse begs , ( although their sins be great , ) That Thou wouldst not Forget , to forget .

To the DUKE . And Thou great Hero of loud Fames first rate ( Still partner of your Royal Brothers Fate ) Who baffle Mischief , and her Dart despise , And stand the firmer for her Batteries ; Whilst Envy toyls her self quite out of breath , You undisturb'd can smile the Wretch to death . Malice is now in a Consumption grown ; To see her self mistook in You alone ; Still the more venom that on You they throw , Still you the Taller , and more lovely grow ; Can walk the Fiery Furnace , and no Hair Sing'd , no smell of Fire , no impair : Fond men ! To hope they can destroy whom Jove Preserves by Wonders , and peculiar Love : Never before prosumptive Heir did sure , Worse Wrongs from most presumptive Men endure , Well may they droop their Heads , and Ne●ks incline , As Tulips Frost bit with a Northern Wind ; To Prudence still and Piety you 'r Just , And do forgive whom none will wish to trust .

To the LORDS . You of the Constellation that maintain Your starry Glories , from Apostate stain ; You whose chaste Loyalty for ever stream'd To th' Royal Lamp of Honour whence You beam'd , You shall for ever share the Muses Praise , Whilst Helicon hath Drops , Apollo Bays .

To the GENTRY . Come Brothers of the Minor-Stars , that are No wandring Planets , but fixt in Your Sphere ; You that have vow'd to be so True To Charles , that to your selves you be so too ; ( And sure I am your Oath will not be broke , You 'l bow to Destiny , before the Yoke ) We must not praise nor thank our selves , that 's vain , That were but Champarty ( You know in grain ; But we 'l so Loyal and so Faithful live , That Church and Crown's Fees Us no thanks shall give .

To the Common-Councel and Court of Aldermen . And You brave Citizens , so Rich and Wise , ( The Boons of Heavens , due to Loyalties ) Heaven marks them who from Allegiance stray , ( With Children , Wits , or Fortunes quite awry . ) You that hold th' Rains , curb the head-strong Jaws Of Asses kickt at Governours and Laws ; You know that Trade doth still most profit bring , To them are true to God , and to their King ; Long may You live , and may the Town and Court Be happy in the prayers of my poor heart ; May no King want such Citizens , I pray , Nor Towns-men Prince , like him they now enjoy .

To the Livery-men . But You that are now of th' new Livery , And Old Leven , look for no thanks from me ; Keep to your Gods ; on damned Bradshaw call , Implore the shades of Ireton and Noll To come improv'd from Hell , and be so good To set crackt men with Plunder up , and Blood ; The Rabble shall no longer Rule this Town , Rebellions Charter must now go down : But yet we 'l beg the King that he would please To give another on good terms as these . Countreys o'regrown with Beasts of Rapine , be Ty'd to destroy the common Enemy , And bound by Charter yearly to afford So many Fox or Wolf-skins to the Lord . London , once bounded in Walls , is now boundless Grown from a City to a Wilderness , More and worse Vermin lurk in 't's Holes and Dens , Than Wolves in Tory-land , or Frogs in Fens : If they renew their Charter , may they pay A Rebels head for Quit-Rent every day , And a Whores Liver , till the Town be found Honest , and ( like the Loyal Countrey ) sound . Now we have done , we have not done ; what 's there ? See how the Mutinous Women appear ! Nip Insurrections in the bud ; Drums beat A parl , and let us with the Females treat ; What would the good wives have ? Forbear slaughter ! Then quoth the Amazons , we 'l keep our Charter ; And thus pleads first a Mouse trap makers Wife ; Before we 'l loose our Honour , we 'l lose Life ; Honour than Food or Rayment priz'd more high ; For It we 'l live , and for It we 'll die Farewel Charter , Farewel Gentility , Next comes a bouncing Butchers Wife i' th' Van , With a Cow-killing Pole ax in her Hand , D'y ' think we 'l lose our Charter ? and be stil'd Fro , As Fish-women be in Bore-land , and well so ? Master Punch kills an Ox , and Twenty Sheep Each week i' th' year , and I the Stall do keep ; Shall all this Blood ( besides a Free-mans Wise ) Now loose it's Honour ? by my Butchers Life For our Noble Charter we will stand and fall , For if we loose our Arms , we then loose all . Then spoke a Chandlers wife with Ale-stufft-Lungs As big as Tun , foaming at all her Bungs ; D' ye think I 'le sit at Bar all day for th' Fees I get by Porter's penny Bread and Cheese , And see the Slaves like Clowns in Sussex , come , And cry , Dame where is your Husband ? at home ? Shall double Drink place to feeling so give ? Shall 't be Madam Creswel , and not Mis Keeling ? Quoth Mistress Fough , 't would be a stinking life , If I were not Master Gold finders Wife ; If farewel Charter , then farewel to all The good Nobility of Pin-makers Hall , Stand to your Arms , both Life and Limb shall go To save our Honour and our Charter too . A Reverend Matron , in whose Loyal face , Was every touch of Modesty and Grace , Hearing the Grievances , ventur'd the Crowd , And thus she spake , and thus their Ears they bow'd ; ‛ Dear Sisters of the Livery , appease ‛ The boistrous bellows of your Passions cease ; ‛ You know that oftentimes untimely fears ‛ Unform the Men , and them transform to Hares , ‛ And Jealousie 's our Sexes cursed Spell , ‛ Transforms us Angels to the Hags of Hell . The last old Charter which you so deplore , Was granted to us in the days of Yore , And many an odd thing was in 't ; 't was done When th' Land with Popery was over-run , And now by Law 't is so repugnant found , That th' Law it self is in that Charter drown'd ; But there 's another in the Mint for You , According to your hearts desire , New , New ; Not after the old Superstitious Fashion ; But New , according to the Reformation : For we that were but Mistresses before , Shall now be Masters , Lords , and something more ; Moreover 't is provided , all the Geese In London shall have two Ganders apiece ; Double man'd ; And if that be not satis , You shall have your Boys on Sundays Gratis , This said , they shout , and made the Welkin ring ; Cry'd , Damn th' old Charter , and God save the King .

A Character of London-Village . By a Countrey Poet. A Village ! Monstrous ! 'T is a mighty Beast , Behemoth , or Leviathan at least ; Or like some Wilderness , or vast Meander , Where to find Friends one long enough may wander . The Towring Chimneys like a Forrest show , At whose low Branches do Balconies grow . When I came there at first , I gazed round , And thought my self upon Inchanted Ground ; Or else that I ( in Rapture being hurl'd ) Was lately Dead , and this was th' other World . But was surpriz'd with Doubts , and could not tell Which of the two 't was , whether Heav'n or Hell : The Noise and Shows my Eyes and Ears invade , By Coaches , Cryes , and Glitt'ring Gallants made . My Reason was convinced in a Trice That it was neither , but Fools Paradi●e ; Ladies I saw , not Handsom one in ten ; Great store of Knights , and some few Gentlemen . Fine Fellows Flanting up and down the Streets , Where Fop and Flutter each the other Greets ; Each Mimick Posture does an Ape present , While Humble-servant ends the Complement . For Garb and Colour there 's no certain Rule , Here is your Red , your Blew , your Yellow-Fool . Most of these Gallants seem to view Refin'd ; The Out-side wondrous Gay , but poorly Lin'd . I saw some of them in the Play-house-Pit , Where they three hours in Conversation sit , Laugh and talk Loud , but scarce a grain of Wit. The Ladies to ensnare will something say , Tending to show the Brisk Gallants their way , But scorn as much to prattle sence as They. Here comes a Hero cover'd close from Air , By Porters born in a Silk-Curtain'd-Chair . Whose Sire in honest Russet Trail'd a plow , And with stout Flayl conquer'd the haughty mow . Next after him , is by six Horses drawn , A piece of Logwood , in a Coach alone , Looking like Scanderbeg on ev'ry one . Who soon a whispering Baud softly invites , To a new Suburb Miss and there he lights . But at some little distance from the place , Handsom he seems , all cover'd o'er with Lace . That nearer shews an old and ugly Face . There goes a Brisk Young Lass in a gay Dress , Here an Old Drone in Youthful Gawdyness . Strange Miracles of Nature here are plac'd ! Ill-Favour'd Wenches , Cracks ; some Fair , are chaste . The Temp'rate Sick : Great Drinkers live in Health . Here Usurers have Wit , and Poets Wealth . The Coffe-House , the Rendezvous of Wits , Is a Compound of Gentlemen and Cits ; And not all wise , or else their Wits they smother , They sit as if Afraid of one another . So Pick-pocket ( when deeper Lister's by ) Budging aloof , disowns the Mystery . In comes a Cockt-up Bully , Looking big , With Deep-fring'd Elbow-Gloves , and Ruffl'd Wig , He turns his Back to th' Chimney with a Grace , Singing and Staring in each Strangers Face ; Talks Mighty things , his late Intrigues , and then Sups off his Dish , and out he struts agen . And as I Rambled through this Quondam-City , I look'd on Founding Pauls with Tears of pity ; But wiping off , with an auspicious Smile , Being like to rise the Glory of this Isle , Village , for now to you I tell me Tale , You have produc'd a mountain from a dale : The Country thought the fire had quite undone ye , But now I find you have both Zeal and Money . I cross'd the Thames much broader than the Brook , Where I have bath'd , and little Fishes took . From Bear-Garden I Westminster mightview , And tho their Outside lookt of different hue , Yet therin each is so much Noise and Pother , I scarce knew how to difference one from th' other . But at the Court indeed I saw great Things , The Noblest Subjects and the Best of KINGS : These things I did observe , and many more , But Tyr'd with the Relation , I 'll give o'er .

True Loyalty in its Colours : Or a Survey of the Laudable Address of the young Men and Apprentices of the City of London , to His MAJESTY . NO Name , because you can't write well ? a Fist Is a Good Hand , that can write Loyalist . Go on Brave Youths , and let your Paper show , What Love what Service to your King you ow. How well , Now , London , must be Judge of Thee , When in thy Sons we find such Loyalty . What ? Though the Jesuits a brooding lye , To hatch for us a Mortal Enemy ; Loyal Addresses shall like thunder kill , The Poison-gathering Viper in the Shell : And quickly make the Factious Gang leave off , To Lace their Coffee with Seditious Stuff . The Roul contains most Trades , who Swear they 'l be One Man t' oppose their Princes Enemy . Th' Ingenuous Pothecary makes up a Pill ; And Swears , it knows both how to Salve and Kill , The Keen edg'd - Barber with his Razor votes , Instead of Cutting Beards , to Cut their Throats . The Shooe-Maker protests he 'd rather choose , To wind Cord for their Necks , than for their Shooes . The Cobler too wou'd meddle with the Fools ; And wou'd instead of Soles , Translate their Souls . The Nimble Taylor swears each Finger itches , To cut their Coats more than to sow their Breeches . The brisk Vpholsterer swears by his Feather , Their Souls and Bodies he will Quilt together . The Damming Vintner Vows next time to bring , Confounded wine to them that hate his King . The Greasy Butcher Swears by 's Oxe's Head , That at one Blow he 'll strike Sedition Dead ; Then Cut it open , Quarter it , and Treat The Devil with a Dainty Dish of Meat . The Cockt-up Haberdasher briskly debates , For Brushing of their Coats instead of Hats . The Artificial Surgeon fain would Box 'em , And send them all to Hell with a Pox to 'em . The Cook cries cram 'em in my Pot 's Belly , And I will stew their Rump-Beef to a Jelly : A Carpenter comes in with a few Cringes , And fain wou'd have 'em Hang'd upon new Hinges . Then a Hot ▪ Bell-Founder cryes out of Spite , They dead my Trade let them be hang'd outright . But the slye Broaker Vows he dos not dare Venter his Coyn on such deceitful Ware . Next unto him comes the ruff Brick-layer , And he 's for Building up the Common Prayer : The Loyal Coach-man this Sentence Broaches , I am for making Plotters draw my Coaches . The Brazier is for Burning them , to see What Mettle afterwards they 'l prove to be . The Strong-Water-Man would be at Stilling , Of their ill Humours , not at Killing . Then comes the Lawyer hatching of some Evil , And fain would bring him into Bond with th' Devil ; But says the Attorney , Let 'em make ( uds luds ) An Execution t' me of Body and Goods . The Rare-loyal Weaver makes a pother , To have 'em Kickt from th' one side to the other . The Gold-smith likes 'em best , for well he knows , Such Mettle both for Gold and Silver goes . They 'l take what stamp we please , they are such Witches ; A Caesar's Head as well as Oliver's Breeches . Last comes a Printer , ( and sayes ) Let me Dye , If I don't brand 'em to Eternity : I will transfer to future Age their Plot , And what Reward their cunning Coleman got : I will Transprint King Charles his Death , and bid The Children Weep , for what their Fathers did , Papists and Factious , both shall go to Pot , While the True Loyally Draws a better Lot .

Loyalty Triumphant : Or a Poem on the Numerous Loyal Addresses to His MAJESTY . ROuse up my Muse ! For , how in such a Cause , Canst thou be Lazy , or admit a Pause ? Why do not Words flow faster then thy Ink , Or forward Verse , scarce give the leave to think Thy Pen in such a Cause should Pregnant be , To Write thy Fellow-Subjects Loyalty : Subjects that dare in spight of Faction show , How much they to the best of Princes owe ; That dare in spight of all the Politick Crew , Who would the People and their KING subdue , Be truly Loyal , Honest , Just , and Good , Four things the Others never understood ; Or if they ever did , have long forgot , Since first Sedition in their Hearts took Root . Their Leaders Soul , as well as Eyes , do squint ; And could we search the Heart , the Devil 's in 't : He seems in shew , as Loyal as the best ; But a full Fury Lodges in his Breast . Ambition , that Curst Fiend that fain would Tread , Once more upon his Royal Masters Head : Nor are his Followers behind in Zeal , T' advance the Good Old Cause , and Common-weal . Reading the Votes of Parliament , I found The KING with honest Men enco●●ast round , Who for the Publick Good , did Wisely Vote , That He for Tangier should not have a Groat ; At His own Charge He must the War maintain , Or Tangier might be Lost , for He in vain Assistance sought from them , unless He 'ed give In Pawn , for it , His own Prerogative ; And against Nature's Laws cease to Defend , An only Brother , and a faithful Friend . He must Exclude Him from the English Crown ; That when Great York they once had tumbled down , They might set up an Idol of their own ; Whom if they cannot manage to their wills , And make him Authorise unheard of Ills : They 'l without scruple hurle them head-long down , And tearing from his Brows the totter'd Crown , Each will be King , and set it on his own . Amongst five Hundred Men , some few there were , That durst for Loyalty and Truth declare ; That durst the King's Prerogative Maintain , 'Gainst Mighty Matchivel , and all his Train : But once discover'd , they like common Foes Or Spies , upon the Actions of the House , Are first made Kneel before the Bar , and then Our Loyalists such Principles despise , Are still contriving how their King may rise , How they may make Him Powerful , and Great , And in full Splendour keep his Royal Seat ; Still acting what their chearful words express , Whilst each of them performs a whole Address . Oh! may they still persist in doing well , Till there be no Tongue left their Deeds to tell ; That they who did in This their King regard , May in the other world meet their Reward .

The Club of Royalists . COme Ganemede , and fill each Glass with Wine , Let each Muse Drink her share , then fill up mine : I with the Nine will Revel all this night , Till Charles his Health bring back the Morning Light . But hold a little , Whither am I gone ? What need I run so far as Helicon ? Whilst Riding on each Beam , the Sun doth bear As Loyal Drinkers as the Muses are : For they I fear have caught th' infection too , Since their own Sons bravely themselves undo : For one who formerly stood Candidate , For Wit and Sense with Men of highest Rate : Apostatizes from his former Acts , And from his own Cambyses Fame detracts . No more in Verse his Mighty Talent shows , But Libels Princes with Malitious Prose . This Man in Cornhill if you chance to meet , Or near the Middle of Threadneedle-street : Know 't is to pay his Homage to the Sun , Or rather to the Hot-brain'd Phaeton , Whom Ovid blames ; but he does more commend Advising straight the Chariot to Ascend . What ? Though the world once more were set on Fire , Shall his Young Heroe bawk his great Desire ? No , let the Head-strong Youth his Steeds drive on , Tread on his Fathers Counsels , and his Throne . I envy not those happy Men that Ride With him in 's Guilded Coach , my humble Pride Desires no Courser , but a Hoggs-heads Back , Where mounted with a Bowl of Sparkling Sack . With Russel , Capel , Cooper , and the rest , I 'le Drink Confusion to each Caballist . Damn their Sun-Tavern Clubbs ; but hold , my Rage Condemns the only Honest Men of th' Age : The truest Patriots England ' ere did breed , Who Viper-like , on their own Mother feed ; Tear up their Bowels with a base pretence , Of feigned Piety and Conscience : Good Gentlemen , how careful are they grown , To suppress Papists , and subvert the Throne ? They for Religion strive , but wise men know , From whence their greatest Discontents do flow . Zeal for the Good Old Cause enflames their breast , But the chief Fuell's , Private Interest .

The Dissenter truly Described . WHat shall a glorious Nation be o'rthrown By Troops of Sneaking Rascals of our own ? Must Civil and Ecclesiastick Laws , Once Truckle more under the good Old Cause ? Shall these Ungrateful Varlets think to Live , Only to Clip Royal Prerogative ? Shall all our Blood turn Whey , whilst we do see Men both Affront , and Stab the Monarchy ? I 'm all inflam'd with a Poetick Rage , And will Chastise the Follies of the Age. Thoughts crowd so fast upon me , I must write Till I 've display'd the Gaudy Hypocrite . He 's one that scarcely can be call'd a Man , And yet 's a Pious , Holy Christian. He 's big with Saving Faith ( he says ) yet He Has not one spark of common Charity . 'Gainst Reason he perpetually whines , Because it Contradicts his Black Designs . He dis-esteems dull Morals ; for a Saint My well-beloved Brethren must not want . Soul-warming Thoughts ; so warm that they did dwell , First in the Womb , then at the Breasts of Hell . He Flouts the Common Prayers , yet the poor Fool Himself , not Them , does turn to Ridicule . He hates a Form , yet loves his dear Non-sense ; Nauseats his God with his Impertinence . With Eyes turn'd up , Mouth screw'd , and Monky-Face , He lowdly bawls to God for Saving Grace . With Meen so base , and scurvy , as if even His Apish Postures only would please Heaven . And then his Sniv'ling Tone , to the most High , He does conclude , is Curious Melody . If Things succeed not as his Humour wou'd , He strait grows Angry , and he Huffs his God ? And this ( as if God knew not what to do . ) And that wou'd have been for thy Glory too . Then Muffl'd in his Cloak , Roger begins In 's Sermon , to dawb forth , Soul-killing-sins ; Murder , and Theft , and Pride , and Gluttony , &c. Which in their Lives none more Applauds than He. Yet if you do survey the List with care , You 'l quickly find Rebellion is hid there . And when he 's prest to Duties for some Hours ; He ne'r puts in The Higher Powers . At Surplice , and Lawn-sleeves , he takes offence , Because they are the Types of Innocence ; For that he hates , and with It men of Sense . The Reverend Prelates he still vilifies , 'Cause they detect his cursed Villanies . Hang them , they bark , come let us pull them down , For this same Mitre does support the Crown . They 'r the King's truest Friends , yet thought it good , To drown his Kingdoms in a Sea of Blood . They the King's Person would protect , they said , Yes , yes , forsooth by Cutting off his Head ; And this they did , inspir'd by Zeal alone , To fasten Christ in his Triumphant Throne . As if Damn'd Lyes , False Oaths and base Deceit , Propt up his Throne , and made him truly Great . As if the Devil himself that acted them , Did bring the Luster to His Diadem . Nay , they go on yet with the same Intents , By moulding to their Minds New Parliaments . Some of the Great , they by their whimseys guide , To like their Treason , and to stem their Pride . In other things , like methods they pursue , For even the Shrieves must be Fanaticks too . The Judges too , they 'd to their Party gain , Did they want either Honesty or Brain , And when their Wheedling Tricks do fail on these , They poison soon some Countrey Justices . Then had they once the dear Militia , They 'd mount the Saddle , and make Charles obey : Thus first they 'd make Him but a very Straw , And then at List controll , and give Him Law . In fine , they are the Foes of Royal State , Order is the great Object of their Hate . Nor God , nor Men , these Furies seek to please , They 'd bruise the Crown , and tear our Surplices . They'd Undermine the Churches Harmony , And Ride a full Carier to Popery . They all Mankind , except Themselves Despise , Chiefly the Great , for being Good and Wise . Some Subtile have , and some have Giddy Souls , Some Fools , some Knaves , and some are Knaves and Fools . These Vermine would even the best things command , And suck all the Sweetness of the Land .

The Loyal LETANY . FRom a new model'd Jesuit in a Scotch Bonnet , With a Mass under 's sleeve and a Covenant on it , From Irish Sedition blown out of French Sonnet , Libera nos Dom. From Conspiring at Joe's and Caballing at Mews From Sr. Gutts holy Tub of Uncircumcis'd Jews , From Gibbet and Halter which will be their dues , Lib. &c. From a Parliament-man rak'd out of th● Embers , From Knights that haunt Counters and Lunatick Members , From Presbyt . Januaries , and Papists Novembers , Lib. &c. From hugging a Witch and consulting the Devil , From Welch Reprimands which are something uncivil , From the Touch of a Scot to cure the King's-evil , Lib. &c. From the mutinous Clamours of such as raise fears , From those that wou'd set us together by the Ears , Who still for the Shipwrack of Monarchy steers , Lib. &c. From Rebellion wrapt up in a Humble Petition , From the Crafty Intrigues of a Suttle Politician , From a Geneva Divine and a Staffords Physician , Lib. &c. From serving Great Charles as his Father before , And Dis-inheriting of York without why or wherefore , And from such as Absalom has been , or more . Lib. &c. From Libelling the Government and Actions of Kings , From Vindicating Sectaries in Illegal Things , From Encouraging Faction which Rebell . brings , Lib. &c. From Murmuring for sending the Parliament home , From choosing Fanaticks to sit in their Room , That the Actions of Forty may not be our doom , Lib. &c. From late Irish Massacres by Paptsts done , From Seditious Cut-troats which thing is all one , From murthering the Father and banishing the Son , Lib. &c : From putting three Towns to the Sword in Cool Blood , From robbing and spoiling the Land for its Good , From Cloaking their Crimes by a Warrant from God , Lib. &c. From shrouding all Villanies under the Cause , From making us happy by giving Sword Laws , From Trampling o' th Mitre and Crown with Applause , Lib. &c. From Hunting the King and abjuring his Race , From Cleansers of Bung holes usurping his place , From Preachers in Tubbs that are void of all Grace . Lib. &c. From Vulcan's Treasons late forg'd by the Fan , From starving of Mice to be Parliament-man , From his Copper Face thet outface all things can , Lib. &c. From Unbridling the Faction the King to dismount , From giving for each thing to Subjects account , From letting P's Domineere as they were wont . Lib. &c. From Voting Lords useless and dangerously Ill , From hanging of Bishops up for dropping the Bill , From letting Fanaticks have too much of their Will , Lib. &c. From purging the House to obstruct our free choice , From Resolving the King to Oppose with one Voice , From such that at Mischief do daily rejoyce , Lib. &c. From all the Seditious that love not the King , From such as a Civil War once more would bring , Deliver us good Lord , let each true Subject sing , Lib. &c.

The Fanatick Rampant : Or an Election at Cambridge . ONE day I heard a zealous shout , I then look'd up , and lo the Rout Of Saints were come to Town . Who by their Hats right gravely set , And Collar-bands , I guess were met To cry the Bishops down . But see how grosly I did err , For they came only to prepare Against that Codly bustle . And therefore did most fervently , With Carnal Throats extended cry , A Russel , yea , a Russel . Some cry'd a Russel , some again Mistook the Name , and cry'd Amen . Some with erected Fist , Cry'd , O , we find by Revelation , That this is He must heal the Nation And hamstring Antichrist ▪ At length there comes me a Free-holder , With Head inclin'd to the Left Sholder , And Circumcised Hair . Who with his Snout all wet with Snivel , And looks enough to scare a Devil , Did thus begin his Prayer . Lord , if thou dost thy Saints regard , Look on the Keepers of thy Heard , Even on thy chosen Russel . See but what honour we have done him , And then , thou needs must poure upon him , Thy blessings by the Bushel . Thy tender Flock , Lord , he 'll not pound But doth regard the Poor . Lord he hath done more for my Wife Than e're I did in all my Life , O blessed Senatour . Do thou in time his Worship bring , To be , to be , a Lordish thing ; As was his Noble Kin — Thou seest how He alone doth stand , And hates the great ones of the Land . O well doth he begin . Then give him Grace Lord not to cease Till he hath broke the Cord of Peace , That Girdle of the Whore . That we again may see that day . In which we all may preach and pray . And then I 'le ask no more . With rhat I spy'd an Image fair , High mounted in his stately Chair . I think to mock the Pope . Down Brethren to the Gallows gang ; Said I , he shall not burn , but hang. Though I pay for the Rope .

Poor Robin's Dream : Or the Visions of Hell . WHen th' charming News had passed Charing Cross , And they depos'd that would dismount that Horse . The Senatours their hated patience forc't , As Thames once for Sempronia stopt her course . Like Boys that were just from a Vineyard scar'd , All stood amaz'd , but ne'er a word was heard . But when they found they were pursu'd by none , But th' Master stood only to keep his own . They then unto their wonted Passion flew , And swore they 'd prove those Grapes to be their due , Next time they came they 'd have their Master too I' th City . All their steady-Heads they tost , Like Wives at Billingsgate , when a good Bargain 's lost . Ballads of grief about the Town they sent , As if they lost a Loyal Parliament . Such clam'rous Consternations , with safe Cryes , Enough to tear great Jove down from the Skies . None daring to confront those Factious Athiests , Dreading the scand'lous Name they call Church-Papists . Then I e'ne laid me down upon my Bed , Where sundry Contemplations seiz'd my troubled Head . In a trembling Trance I on a sudden fell , Wherein I saw that damned Den call'd Hell . Where ten thousand Sons , with Legions of black Fiends , Of burning Reb. there they made their Skreens . Old Noll and Bradshaw , Ireton and Pride , Burning like Beacons ; on the other side . Then perjur'd Rogues , drawn up in arched Rings , Their Tongues like Serpents , shew'd their flaming Stings , Thought I , is this the fruit of killing Kings ? When that Scene chang'd , methought I clearly saw , A solemn Conventicle groan out yells of woe . Their Hats pinn'd to their heads with siery nails , Their Ears drawn out as large as Spanish Frails . Their Eyes like oval Lanthorns ; glowing Rouls , Or flaming ●lambois from their treach'rous Souls . Their Mouths unto their ugly Ears were drawn , Spirits froth'd out , like poison'd , foul Frog-spawn . Upon their Backs was writ in Blood , I see , Damn'd for Rebellion and Hypocrisie . 'Mongst this prodigious and confused Throng , The Holder forth was called Dr. Tonge ; Who so excell'd , Hugh Peters being there , That he was forc'd to fall into the Reer . Till interposed by a Champion stout , With flaming Sword made way through th' hellish Rout. Bedlow . And cry'd to Tongue thou damn'd Orator , Thou art the cause of my Soul burning here . Tonge . Why what wast thou when first I did thee know ? But one condemn'd for Robbery by the Law . Bedlow . Why what wast thou poor Fool in Forty one ? But a poor Weaver just leapt from thy Loom . Then stept into a Tub to preach Sedition , And tookst the Covenant for thy Commission . Which thou pursu'dst till all the Rump was ruin'd , And Charles return'd , and to his Right resum'd . And then thou mad'st a Breech of thy own Mouth , Sworst back again , but never preachedst Truth , And in thy Age , more treach'rous , than in youth : Tonge . That cannot be imputed Perjury , To swear for those that rule by Tyranny . Or for any else , as Times may turn by fits , That 's but a Knack of living by ones Wits . But I ne'er Rob'd upon the King's High-way , Nor boasted on 't unto my Friends next day . Nor I ne'er feign'd my self to be a Lord , Nor pilfer'd Coyn without the help of Sword , Nor ne'er was proved perjur'd by Record . Bedlow . Thou damned Hell-hound , hast thou now forgot , Who was so active in the Popish Plot ? 'T was Thou that patch't up our Depositions , And then deliver'd them without Commissions . Which thou madst him pretend he had disperst , Then thou thy self turn'd Tail and was releast . Yet still thou didst persevere in thy Sin . Taught Tony and the rest to bring me in . To meet you at Cabals , and Foxes-Hall , Where I receiv'd my Lessons from you all . You taught me what to speak , who to impeach , All Loyalists you brought within my reach . Both Queen and Duke ● to the Block must bring , Nay — had I'liv'd , I must have peacht the K — Now who 's the cause of my Soul's suffering ? Tonge . All this I own was Truth , and ten times more , But thy black Soul was damned long before . Thou had'st committed Murther , Theft and Rape , So 't was impossible thy Soul shou'd 'scape . For had'st thou liv'd till each true string had twang'd , Thou then had'st surely been both damn'd and hang'd . Bedlow . Thou splay mouth'd ●iend , I hold thy words in scorn , Thou deserv'dst hanging long e're I was born . Thou and thy Brother Baxter , Spawns of Evil , Who kept your correspondence with the Devil . And spew'd your poyson over Three brave Nations , And brought in Oates to all their Desolations . The Devil taught you how to tutor Cooper , And Belzebub himself his Over-looker . One Paw upon the Tap holds in the Bung , The other guides his tottering Head and Tongue . And cryes , My Tony thou shalt live to see England's Destruction , and its Monarchy , And my chief Engine , Tony , thou shalt be . And of all the Plots and Sham-p . thou art Father , And all the Evidence thou 'st patcht together ; For which Indulgence I 'le inspire thee still , And thus the Devil helps old Matchiavel . Tonge . Why ? Tony was the cause of my Damnation , It was his malice that enflam'd the Nation . 'T was He , under pretence of doing good , That squeez'd poor Innocents , and broach'd their blood . 'T was He that made his Grace a stalking Horse , And hid himself behind his pocky Arse . 'T was He that taught Tub-Preachers to seduce The People , to choose Membes for their use . Such as in the late Rebellion play'd their parts , And now are downright Rumpers in their hearts . To all the Olivarians that are living , His damned Documents he is daily giving . 'T is He that all the Rebels now controuls , For fear they should repent and save their Souls . Or rather that they may come boldly on , By force of Arms to end what he begun . Or else his head must fly for what is past , And 's Tap must burst , to shew his Soul is curst . Bedlow . For Godfrey's death , 't was thou perswadedst me To come in Guilty ; that black Perjury Doth gnaw my Soul in these Infernal Flames , That guiltless Blood cryes Vengeance through my veins , And showrs upon me in perpetual streams . I swore that of that murther I did know A Man that in my life I never saw , Yet three mens Lives I took by perjur'd Law . Tonge . Tony and Godfrey's Brother that contriv'd , To make the forged Plot the more believ'd . The truth of which they never yet would tell , Neither Oates , nor us that're now in Hell . If e'er that stifled Murther be unvail'd , Old Tony's mouthing Gang will soon be quail'd . And those Cabals which daily now devise , As th' old one dyes , to make new Plots to rise . They 'l then disperse , left they all be trepann'd , And their wise heads forsake their souls that's damn'd . Bedlow . Thou now speak'st like a Subject when 't is too late , Or one that knew not what they would be at . 'T is their ambition to be thrown in Goals , 'T would raise the Rout if Habeas Corpus fails . Then Tony ' l grieve ▪ and prog about for ●oin , T' encourage his possessed Herd of Swine . Lurk in his hole to see 'em stand Tail to Tail , But ne'er come out , till he finds who 'l prevail . Tonge . When he was young he never durst to fight , But in malicious mischief took delight . For when the Nation flow'd with Blood before , Tony was always thirsting after more . How many thousand Pound this Plot has cost him , To buy the bloods of those that never crost him ? When he has got poor Innocents condemn'd , By his patch't Evidence , how eagerly he 'l send To those that have most int'rest in the Rout ? He 'l hire them t'come to force the Prisoners out , To see them sacrifis'd before his Snout . Which they 'l soon do , or else break down their hold ; For why are Toney's Cattle bought and sold ? While they are butchering , old Tony flears , For more such Bargains smells with both his ears . Toney hir'd Arn — for to cut 's own Throat , Arn — was cunning did but half the Joke . Yet kept his Money and remain'd his Debter , And promis'd him the Lives of some were better . Tho Tony's sides have several Teer of holes , He lusts after Bodies as the Devil after Souls . For if e'er this Trade of Papist-hanging's ended , He 'll bring in Presbyter and Independent . Both Care and Curtis , Smith and pillor'd Ben , After the best , he 'l hang the worst of men . All that his Pate hath drawn in to support him , He 'll hang them all , if Fate do ever thwart him . Both Lords and Evidence that 's now for him , Nay perhaps his Grace who now he 's making K. Or those who all this prosecution commence , He can hang them with the same Evidence . Should he have liv'd till such a Change broke To save himself he would have hang'd us both . He 's such a Knave , and They such silly Elves , When he has a mind , he 'l make 'em hang themselves . Bedlow . Heart , Blood and Wounds , would he have hang'd up Bedlow ? Oh that my Lady Mother did but know That cursed Cannibal ? had I liv'd two years longer , I 'de have hang'd him that rotten damn'd Whoremonger . Let 's out of Hell , the Porter we can bribe , We 'll bring him Tony's Soul , or some of that damn'd Tribe . We 'll tell the King that Tony is the cause , Of all this Plotting , and subverting Laws . That Tony is so treacherous , and so apish , That he 's the Head of all the plotting Papists . For 't was his Plot , and none but he contriv'd it , And he 's the Rogue that ever since reviv'd it . Each Prison round the Town he searches duly For Evidence to reeommend to Rowly . But takes such pains to teach each t'others Chapter , As a man to make a Spaniel Dog a Setter . Which must impeach Bishop and Judges too , And all that for the King withstand his Crew . The Courtiers he corrupts till they 're discarded , Then by his Tribe for him they must be guarded . While he sits at the Helm to guide Sedition , All legal Laws he counts meer Superstition . He sits environ'd round with Brother-Vipers , Who imitates his Nods like Scotch Bag-pipers . Pendent and Biter , and Mare-frigging Quaker , Keep time , Tony , that brave Law Bear-baiter . For he united them to stand together , 'Gainst all that 's Lawful , Loyal , or whatever That 's direct opposition to the Crown , To pull the Bishop and Monarchy down . But he illustrates his grave Dispute , By quaint Objections , coyn'd against the Duke . 'Gainst him his Bristles hath long time stood snarling , Yet cannot spit his Poyson beyond Sterling , Could he wrench out that Pillar of the State , He thinks the rest would fall in 's hands by fate , What a graceful Noll old Tony then would make ? Just like a Monkey he 'd become the Throne . His Court Buffoons and Pugs of the same Spawn . Then Tony would be sure that all 's his own . Could he perswade the King to sell his Brother , He 'd never break his Brains to find another . To keep Sedition and support the State , Tony himself would be Legitimate . Le ts give the King this Caution , for 't is true . That he in time may do what 's best to do . With that a thundring noise their Contract broke , The Den was darkn'd with infernal Smoke , Horror of yells and groans the Spirits strains , Till on a sudden all flasht out in flames . In which she Conventicklers sprawling cry'd , For all Eternity must this abide ? With that a shower of Blood fell down upon 'em , In which they spew'd & stunk like Reb. dam'em For 't was the blood of Innocents they 'd drawn , When they liv'd here , to make the K. their own . Some of the Heads were hang'd up by the Tong. The rest the Devils pitch about with Prongues . To make way for approaching great Procession , Which howl'd & roard without an Intermission . Their Tongues hung out with Froth like lathering Soap , These were the Rabble burning of the Pope . 'Mongst whom were Curtis , Harris Smith & Care , The Scene was just like that at Temple-bar . Both Pope and Pageants , Jeffreys and the Friers , Of these that did support them and the Rout , But there they roar'd , & here they us'd to shout . Both Squibs and Crackers from their mouths did fly 'Gainst Church and State , they belcht out Blaspemy . Their Skins were vail'd with City-Mercuries , Seditious Libels and their forged Lyes . Which taking fire at once made such a smother , Down fell the Pageants , Rout , and all together Did sprawl , and howl in that infernal Flame , Then I awak'd , and all was but a Dream .

A DIALOGUE betwixt the Devil and the Whigs . Now , Reader , tell me , if you can , Which is the Devil , who the Man ; For if a Tekelite be a Turk , They both do ( All ) the Devils Work . Whigs . WE have pursu'd those Plots thou didst invent , And made our Parties in a Parliament , And to no purpose , what can we do more ? Thou let'st the Tories in , yet keep'st the Door . Devil . When ought doth not succeed , you first blame Me , Amongst your selves Ye never did agree : Your Wise-false-Brethren have undone your Cause , And from no Subjects , slav'd you to the Laws . Whigs . We know no Laws but those our Selves do make And Hanging ne're confess ( All ) for Thy sake : Thou know'st what we have done , and more would do , But deal'st with us , as Witches , and leav'st us so . Devil . My Power is to Incline , not to Compell , You are the Ministers to Act for Hell ; But do not send me those I did expect , Through your base Cowardise , or Fools neglect . Whigs . Can We do more than Thou ; We kill'd a KING . And his Best Subjects did to Judgement bring : We sent them hence , when they were under Ground , We thought all Flesh , was in the Devil's Pound . Devil . You speak as you believe , were it not so , Thousands of you might unto Heaven go ; But Your Association with Me Will keep us Friends to all Eternity , And never be reproach'd for Perjury . Whig . Thou the first Rebel , taught'st us to Rebel , Surely Thou need'st no Company in Hell . Thou shamd'st Us in Contriving of this Plot , That GOD himself would oversee the Blot , Because that in his Name it was Begot . Devil . There is a Bard as strange as is his Name , A Power you know not , who hath rais'd his Fame , 'T is He , whose Wisdom Countermin'd your Arts , And on your selves return'd your poyson'd Darts . Whig . That Devil Observator , Oh! 't is He We would not see ( GOD ) in His Company : Our very Thoughts , He seem'd to know so well , They were in Print , before they were known in Hell Devil . His Demon circles Him , I cannot Kill , Nor Hurt him , so much as to shake his Quill , He Writes such Truths , and Speaks such Sacred Things . The Churches Champion , and the Guard of Kings . Whig . Though Thou Confess , Thou canst not yet Repent . No more than We ; Then down when we are sent , There curse the Fates , who spin so long his Thread That he will live , to see our Children Dead . Devil . Take Comfort yet , the Blood that You have spilt , No more Age can paralel your Guilt . I did corrupt the Mobile of Heaven . You did the like on Earth ; now We are even . This Kindness I will do ; Over my Furies , I 'll make You Presidents , Judges , or Juries .

A Congratulatory Poem to Sir John More Knight , Lord Mayor Elect of London . NO sooner doth the Aged Phenix dye , But kind indulging Nature gives Supply ; Sick of her solitude she first retires , And on her Spicy Death-bed then expires : Thus unconcern'd , Sir Patience now declines The Sword , and all his Dignities resigns ; Next under God and Royal Charles , 't was He Defended persecuted Liberty . When the fierce fury of the Romish Flood Broke out beyond its limits , He withstood The threatning Deluge of the angry Main , And forc'd its beating Billows back again ; His circumspection seasonably reads The dark Intrigues of vain projecting heads : He cou'd all Foreign Maladies resent , And equally Intestine Broils prevent . But now , as dying Parents first commend Their Issue to th' tuition of a Friend , And then , as if their chiefest care was past , Pleas'd with the Settlement , they breath their last : So he perceiving busie Date appear , That with a Period will close his year , Contentedly resigns his dying Claim , To the Successor of his Charge and Fame ; One whose wise Conduct knows how to dispence Rigour to Guilt , and help to Innocence . Here we the City's wise Results may scan , Their very choice is Metropolitan ; So Universal their Elections are , That England in the Happiness doth share . On then great Magistrate , and , like the Sun , Set with the splendid Glory you begun , Disperse such hovering Clouds as wou'd benight , And Interpose themselves 'twixt Us and light ; You boldly dare your noble Trust attest , Without a base perswading Interest . When pleasing Flattery puts on her Charms , To take with gentle Arts and soft Alarms , Fixt with a gallant Resolution , You Vncase the Hypocrite , and bids adieu . In this confus'd and ill digested State , Where Plots new Plots , to counter-plot , create , Trusting to Reasons Conduct as your Guide , You 'l leave the threatning Gulphs on either side ; And then erect such Marks , as may appear , To caution others from a Shipwrack there . 'T is now resolv'd , the Romanists shall see The mean Effects of all their Policy ; The Puritans will but expect in vain , Their Pious Frauds will gull the Land again : You , like a great Columbus , will find out The hidden Worlds of deep Intrigues and Doubt , Whilst to your new Discoveries we give Our thanks , such worthless Presents as we have . England no more of Jealousies shall know , But Halcyon Peace shall build , and Plenty flow , And the proud Thames , swell'd high , no more complains , But smilingly looks on the peaceful Plains ; No angry Tempest then shall curl her Brow , Glad to behold revived Commerce grow , Whilst emulous of your Example , We Strive who shall most express their Loyalty : No Factions shall us from our selves divide , More than the Sea , from all the World beside , But link'd together in one Chain of Love , And with one Spring unanimous we 'll move ; That , to our Foes regret , it may be said , We are again One Body , and One Head .

The Car-man's Poem ; Or , Advice to a Nest of Scriblers . CAR-men turn Poets now , why may not I ? Then Horse , and Cart , and Whip , stand you three by : Nay , but I lack my Whip to lash those Cattel , That by their Scribling bid the Kingdom Battel . Wou'd I cou'd lash you with such mighty force , As I have us'd to lash my drudging Horse . It 's the dull Satyrs of this envious Age , That puts my Fancy in so great a rage ; They swarm in ev'ry Street , in ev'ry Shop , They are the Froth of ev'ry idle Fop. He that has nought to do , takes Pen and Ink , Calls for some Paper , and a Pot of Drink , And then the Maggot works , and Noddle rings , And they 'l not spare the best of British Kings ; Malice , and Pride , and Drink are all agreed , Then drive on , Car-man ; but none cries , God speed . Their wicked Wit 's on wheels , but why so fast ? I am afraid you 'l pay for this at last : Your head-strong Fancy must be curb'd e're long The Judge will make you sing another Song . A King 's a puny thing in your conceit ; And all by reason of a shallow Pate : A Duke 's a Trifle , and Queen 's a Toy ; It 's death to you to sing out Viv'le Roy. And a grave Bishop , or a learned Dean , You do abhor as much as King and Queen : Judges are next to nothing in your eye , So boldly from all Government you fly , That with your dirty , frothy , hair brain'd Pen , You lash your Kings , even like our Common men , Touch not the Lords Anointed , it is said ; But when with Ale and Beer you 're muddy made When with a little Drink your heads are warm , You touch the King , and do his Prophets harm : You rail , abuse , contemn , despise and jeer , You lash them like your Horses , without fear : It matters not for Sense , be they but Rhimes , Then there is hopes they 'l suit with these dull Times . Away they run to Smith , and he corrects them ; That 's a mistake , he Prints , and he protects them : From Friend to Friend they march about the Street , And ev'ry un-Baptiz'd Brother's glad to see 't : Oh how they shrug their Elbows with delight , To see such dang'rous things appear in sight : He 's wise that 's bold , the fittest man for th' Times , That dare presume to write the worst of Rhimes . Hang Sence , that 's out of fashion , so is Reason ; Come let us see you write Sedition , Treason , Move for a Commonwealth , cry down the King , Another Royal Head to th' Block let 's bring ▪ Rail at the Bishops , and the Common-Prayer , Abuse the Papists , this is past compare : Let us beat down all those too Loyal Elves , Then we may hope we shall set up our selves . This is the Language of the Baptist Beast , The heart of ev'ry Presbyterian Priest . Did they but fear a God , they 'd love a King , They seldom Harp on such a pleasant String : They make long Pray'rs your Houses to devour , They 'l pray for half a day , and preach an hour ; They 'l Fast in earnest ; turn up th' white o' th' eys , Even like a Par●ketto to the Skies : They 'l walk demurely , chatter like a Saint , Their Language is so zealous , smooth and quaint , You wou'd not think that they cou'd act ought ill . Much less that they their Sover'ign Lord wou'd kill . Give them but pow'r , you 'l find them greater Cheaters , Than old Noll Cromwel , or his Chaplain Peters . What has our Law no limits for our words ? And shall our Pens cut like two-edg'd Swords , And none regard them ? shall our Libels swarm , And will no Judge take notice of the harm ? Seditious Libels surely have a Charm , There 's not one Judge that dare put forth his Arm. Then let our Pamphlets swarm about the City , Be deaf , and do not shew Conformists pity ; Satyr them unto death , the day 's our own , Our Judges now we find are weary grown : Spare neither King nor Subject , let all share A like that love the Mass and Common Prayer : Come , drive on , Car-man , set thy brains to work , And write as if it were against the Turk . Puddle-dock Coach-man , hold thy Dung-Cart Pen , Spurn not against such great and pow'rful men ; They do but let you run to your wits end , Now you must pay for what you wrote my Friend . Thou that didst sin against both Judge and King , And stole the Honey , now must feel the Sting : Thy Libels now are all upon the File , That swarm like Hornets in a pleasing Isle . Imprimis , answer thy Tom Ticklefoot , I fear that that will put thee hardly to 't : Item , remember thy late New-years-Gift , Thy Neck thou from this Noose canst no way shift Unless it from a twisted Halter be , Unto a wooden Noose call'd Pillory : And thy late Satyr will not be forgotten , When Smith and 's Anvil are decay'd and rotten . Judgement has Leaden heels , but without doubt At the long run 't will find the Rabble out : Then woe be to ye , better you were choak'd , Than deal with Judges that you have provok'd ; My life for yours they 'l stick upon your Skirts , And pay you home for all your Jeers and Flirts : You and your hireling Scriblers will repent , That their Time , and you your Money spent . One witty Jeffreys , and a sharp Recorder , Will timely bring you all to better order : A Pillory will tell us you were Rogues , To write against a Judge so just as Scroggs , Whose Worth and Judgment , Wit and Justice flies With far more Fame , thanks to your Scribling Lies

The Last Will and Testament of Anthony King of Poland . MY Tap is run ; then Raxter tell me why Should not the good , the great Potapsky dye ? Grim Death , who lays us all upon our backs , Instead of Scythe doth now advance his Ax : And I , who all my life in broils have spent , Intend at last to make a Settlement . Imprimis , for my Soul ( though I had thought To 've left that thing , I never minded , out ) Some do advise , for fear of doing wrong , To give it him , to whom it doth belong ; But I , who all Mankind have cheated , now Intend likewise to cheat the Devil too : Therefore I leave my Soul unto my Son , For he , ( ●s Wise men think , ) as yet has none . Then for my Polish Crown , that pretty thing , Let Mon — take 't , who longs to be a King ; His empty Head soft Nature did design For such a light and airy ●rown as mine . With my Estate , I 'll tell you how it stands , Jack Ketch ought t' have my Cloaths , the King my Lands . Item I leave the damn'd Association To all the wise disturbers of the Nation , Not that I think they 'l gain their ends thereby , But that they may be hang'd as well as I. Armstrong ( in Murders , and in Whoring skill'd , Who twenty Bastards gets for one man kill'd ) To thee I do bequeath my Brace of Whores , Long kept to draw the humours from my Sores ; For you they 'll serve as well as Silver-Tap , For Women give , and sometimes cure a Clap. H — d my partner in Captivity , False to thy God and King , but true to Me , To thee some heinous Legacy I 'd give , But that , I think , thou hast not long to live ; Besides thou 'st wickedness enough in store To serve ' thy self and twenty thousand more . To thee ( young G G —y ) I 'll some small Toy present , For you with any thing may be content , Then take the Knife with which I cut my Corns , 'T will serve to pare and sharp your Lordsh . Horns , That you may rampant M — push and gore Till he shall leave your House , and change his Whore . On top of Monument let my Head stand It self a Monument , where first began The Flame that has endanger'd all the Land . But first to Titus let my Ears be thrown , For he , 't is thought , will shortly have his own . I leave old Baxter my invenom'd Teeth To bite and poison all the Bishops with . Item I leave my Tongue to wise Lord N — To help him bring his what-de-call-ums forth , 'T will make his Lordship utter Treason clear , And he in time may speak like Noble Peer . My Squinting Eyes let Ignoramus wear , That they may this way look , and that way swear . Let the Cits take my Nose , because 't is sed , That by the Nose I them have always led ; But for their Wives I nothing now can spare , For all my Live's time they have had their share . Let not my Quarters stand on City Gate , Lest they new Sects and ●actions do create ; For certainly the Presbyterian Wenches In Dirt will fall to Idolize my Haunches ; But , that I may to my old Friend be Civil , Let some Witch make them Mummy for the Dev. To good King Charles I leave ( though faith , 't is pity ) A pois'ned Nation , and deluded City , Seditions , Clamours , Murmures , Jealousies , False Oaths , Sham-Stories , and Religious Lies . There 's one thing still , which I had quite forgot , To him I leave the Carcass of my Plot , In a Consumption the poor thing doth lie , And when I 'm gone , t will pine away and die . Let Jenkins in a Tub my worth declare And let my Life be writ by Harry Care ; And if my Bowels in the Earth find room , Then let these Lines be writ upon their Tomb.

An Epitaph upon his Bowels . YE Mortal Whigs for Death prepare , For mighty Tapski's Guts lie here , Will his great Name keep sweet , d'y ' think ! For certainly his Intrals stink . Alas 't is but a foolish pride To out-sin all mankind beside , When such Illustrious Garbage must Be mingled with the Common dust . False Nature ! That could thus delude The Cheater of the Multitude ; That put his Toughts upon the Wing , And egg'd him on to be a King , See now to what an use She puts His Noble great and little Guts ▪ Tapski , who was a man of Wit , Had Guts for other uses fit , Though Fiddle strings they might not be ( Because he hated Harmony ) Yet for Black puddings they were good , Their Master did delight in Blood : Of this they should have drank their fill ( King Cyrus did not fare so ill ) Poor Guts could this have been your hap Sheriff Bethel might have got a snap , But now at York his Guts must rumble , Since you into a hole did tumble .

The Case is Alter'd now : Or the Conversion of Anthony King of Poland , published for satisfaction of the Sanctified Brethren . EV'n as a Lyon , with his Paws up-rear'd , As he would tear in pieces all the Herd : So of late days , you Whigs , as Rampant were : An honest Tory scarce to speak did dare . Nay , it was almost an offensive thing ; The Bell-man scarce dar'd cry , God save the King ! Thou , my dear Titus , and the Popish Plot , Did'st fire my Zeal , and make my Head so hot , That then I whisper'd loud unto the Nation , Now , now 's the Nick of Time for Reformation . You hufft and hector'd at a mighty rate , When Parliaments of your own Mettle sate ; As if you had o're-grown the King and Laws , And were beginning a New Good Old Cause ; But Remedy in Season did appear , And stop't the Fury of your hot Carrear . Thus for a while I danc'd to my own Pipe , Till I was grown Association ripe . But then Addresses from each County came , And Loyalty did soon put out the Flame . Then was the time , that Tyburn claim'd his due ; But had it not for want of such as You : Yet it had some small satisfaction giv'n , By the deserved Death of Traitor Stephen . Cabals , and Factious Clubs so rife were grown , And old Rebellious Seed so thick were ●own , I hop'd e'er this the day would be my own . In Coffe Houses you did domineer , Aud pratled Treason without Wit or Fear . Reason and Loyalty you over-rul'd ; And settled Nations , whilst your Coffee cool'd . The point you argued with a surly Face ; And he that did not yield , and give you Place , Was term'd by you a Tory , void of Grace . One House , one Town , one Kingdom scarce could hold Tory and Whig , Sir Whig was grown so bold . For this Recital , Sirs , pray do not blame us , We ne'er baulk't Justice by our Ignoramus ▪ No , no , you meant no Harm , I oft was told ; No more did your Rebelling Sires of old . Thus , for a while , with Factious Rage you burn'd ; But , Heav'n be thank'd , the Scales at last are turn'd : The Wheel , at length , is mov'd a little round , And its worst Pieces lowest to the Ground . The State has found a way to cool our Feavors , Quench our new Lights , and curb our strong Endeavours ; And we are taught Complyance with more ease , To What , and When , and how the King shall please . We to your Private Meetings now can come ; And seize your Holder forth , and send you home ; Meet You at Guild-hall , or elsewhere ; and then , Help You make Choice of Loyal Honest Men. The Memory and Name of Moor be blest ; That Loyal President for all the rest . Let Faction cease , and Loyalty get Ground . Till not one Whig be in the Nation found : Then we'el rejoice , as in the Days of Yore , And Salamancka's shall be known no more .

The King of Poland's Last Speech to his Countrey-men . I Know , you hope all once to be Great Men of Note and Majesty ; For this our now Supremacy Is Nonsence . Why should one Man for ever sway A Scepter , ( who 's but made of Clay ? ) Why may not we our selves obey In Conscience ? But now 't is come , Alas , we see , That all our Fame turns Infamy : Ah! such a thing is Policy With Tories . The buzzing Jealousies and Fears , Into the Peoples list'ning Ears , For all those many busie years , Are Stories . Since in late Plots w' have gone astray , 'T is time to look another way , And not in such a Case delay ; 'T will harm us . No doubt , y' have heard of Forty One , Of all the Prancks that then were done , And of the happy Conquest won : Let 's arm us ; And play those very Cards agen , For all those Antients were but Men ; Five Israelites may well beat ten Philistines . Let 's cry Oppression through the Town , Oppression of the Court and Gown , And raise in Tumult , every Clown To Listings . We 'll first expose the Laws to Shame , And next the Loyal Part defame ; If Good or Bad , they 'r all the same , No odds make . Yet let Religion be the Word , To shade Rebellion and the Sword ; Then play the Divel under board , For God's sake . Then be not wanting in your Lies ; In Plots and Shams and Forgeries ; To blind the weak and gazing eyes , With Fables . But if you wou'd enjoy the Land , Let the dark Roman joyn his Hand , He Force and Councel can command In Caballs . Which though it seem as strange as Nile , 'T is Lawful to unite in Guile ; Our Intrest's ne're the worse that while , But further . For all their Principles are mine ; Their Tricks to guild a black Design ; Their Warrant 's to unite and joyn In Murther . What if you were not born to Land , Or to be Persons in Command ; 'T is ne'er the worse at second Hand , But fashion . Is it not base ( a Curse ) to see , When we should live equally , Such odds and such Majority's I' th' Nation . And though we find no fault in State , Or any other Potentate ; Yet those great Names will raise debate , And wrath , Sirs . Since then 't will be so good a Feat , Let 's once ( for all ) the Work compleat : For nothing else can make us Great , In troth , Sirs , My Opticks ( Friends ) almost can see A new form'd Lump of Anarchy ; Whilst under foot lies Monarchy , And hated . Methinks I see those very Men , I hate and envy once agen , From many thousands unto Ten , Abated . Ah! sweet Revenge , and bold Ambition , Infects both Us , and half the Nation ; The Cause of Wise Association So lately : And well't may plague us all , to see Some , though no better Men than We , To live in Pomp for Loyalty , So stately . I knew when once the Good Old Cause Was nam'd aloud with great Applause : Blest times for Liberty ! no Laws , To fright all : Therefore if once it come to Test , And we again with Lawrel blest , The stronger side must be the best , At Whitehall . And if all Lords you chance to be , Who knows what Hell designs for me ? We 'l make our Lives one Jubilee , And wonder . So being out of Breath , and spent ; Alas , ( said he ) much more is meant . At last ( with Pox ) he hurrying went , Like Thunder .

Fitz-Harris his Farewel to the World : or a Traytors Just Reward . FArewel great Villain , and unpitied Lye , Instead of Tears drawn from a tender Eye ; Ten thousand Traytors like Fitz-Harris dye . Unhumane Monster , to the World ingrate , An Enemy to the King , the Church and State ; Had'st thou been starv'd , 't had been too kind a Fate . His Crimes were horrid , Infamous and base , Deserves a total extinct of his Race ; Banish his Name unto some dismal place . What 's worse than injuring Sacred Majesty , For which he suffered on the Fatal Tree ; May all Men suffer when Rob'd of Loyalry . England may then be glad , with Triumph sing , When all her Foes are vanisht with a string ; The Golden Age from Halcion-days will spring . Those Wolves that Plot Protestant Lambs to Gull , May Heaven obstruct the Engines of their Scull ; Give them of Tyburn , good Lord , their Belly full . Giddy-headed Youths , have been seduc'd of late , Beyond their Wits , talk of the Affairs of State ; Obedience learn to avoid Fitz-Harris Fate . Those publick Libellers with Zeal and Heat , With some unheard of Novelty daily treat ; If they write falsly , tie them from their Meat . Tell th' Ambitious , they 're Fools and strive in vain , To undermine a Crown , King Charles will Raign : To be true and honest is the safest Gain . I hope to see Justice at Tyburn done , If so , some hundreds may have cause to run ; Give them what they , deserve , their Thread is spun . Bid proud Petitioners good Advice approve , Make an Address and in one Body move ; With all Humility t'gain their Prince's Love . I 'de sooner lose a Limb , from th' Monument fly , Endure the worst of Torments till I dye ; Than willingly deserve my King 's displeasing eye . London , on thee all flourishing joys descend , Heav'ns bless the Government and Governours to the end ; Unanimous to agree , your Soveraign to defend . The Man that burnt Diana's Temple down , Did it on purpose a Villain to be Crown'd ; 'Mongst Rogues ( Damn'd Rogues ) he got Renown . How many thousands are there in the Nation , Meer Knaves , but Saints in private Congregation ; Love Monarchy , with mental Reservation . The Gods rebuke the Error of the Age , Let Moderation Tumultuous men asswage ; But hang all those against their King engage . Let all Dissenting Brothers love the King , To the Church Unite , 't is a goodly thing ; With Brethren to agree , and with Te Deum sing . Heav'ns bless his Majecty , with Plenty , Joy and Peace . To all that love the King Heavens give increase ; Confound his Foes to pray I ne'er will cease . — Non est Lex justior ulla Quam Necis Artificis , Arte perire sua .

The last and truest Discovery of the Popish-Plot , by Rumsey , West , and other great Patriots of their Countrey . BUt Oh! This late Conspiracy , so Dire ( By Providence prevented by a FIRE , ) No Age can parallel ; so Black Design The fiercest Furies , ( could not place a Mine , ) From their dark Caves , to give so great a blow , And at one Burst , Three Kingdoms overthrow ! Merciless Flames we 'll now Innocent call , Since Fire's allarm hath preserv'd Us all ; Thrice happy Fire of Providence , whose Good Was Bon-fire for the saving Royal Blood ; Heav'n forc'd their Safety , drove them from that place , That they might live to see a longer Race . What desperate despairing damned Crew Would Fell the Royal Oaks , plant cursed ●ew ? Did Shaftsbury descend into the Pit , And Pluto's President of War doth fit ? Are Sheriffs , Juries , and his perjur'd Slaves , All silent Now , as they were in their Graves ? No ; Thou retain'st thy Counsel at the Bar , And [ Good-enough ] to make a Civil War : Tho thou canst not return , hast none to send ? Murder and Treason thou hast left thy Friend : Thy Breath , O British Scylla , still remains , Whose Poyson stagnates your ill Livers Veins ; Thou damn'd Achitophel , counseledst a Vote , If the KING dy'd , to cut the Tapisis Throat ; Nay , if a House by accident was fir'd , From Them must Reparation be requir'd . Imposture Hypocrites invent a ●lot , Deceive the Mobil●e , and League the Scot , Then Loyal Innocents they guilty bring ; Reserve the Honour yet to Kill the KING . The Comets blaze , and the Portents , you know , Did signifie the Nations Overthrow ; And You the Ministers of Fate must be , The Hang-men-Murderers of ROYALTY . No , Paracides , though you pervert the sence , Heaven is not pleas'd till you are hang'd from hence : The Stars discover your dark Plots below , Your Malice would make Heav'n Guilty too : Just like old Satan , when he did Rebel ; He once was good , You never ; mend in Hell , Since none but You could ever claim a Right By horrid Murder to Eternal Night : Had you succeeded . Oh what Seas of Blood Had drown'd the World , and made a second Flood ! The Horrible Events no Man can think , Blood-thirsty men , with drinking , thirst for drink . Nothing but Death can quench their Furious Zeal ; No Plot nor Parliament his Acts repeal : Those Lies , confirm'd by Oaths and Impudence , Were once believ'd by Men of soundest sence : This the deciding Plot 'twixt Heav'n and Hell , ( Though you repent not ) shall confess you fell ; Lucifer-like , you curs'd Associates Thought your selves strong enough against the Fates . But Providence appears , the Fiends throw down , And once again the Royal Ooak does Crown : How Guilt doth tremble now ! How , hide and flie ! The Innocents stood still , un-call'd , to die : Down with your Pillar , there in Rubbish lie , The Pyramid of Truth 's above the Skie : The Sacred Monuments of Wise and Good Are wash'd away from hence , like Noah's Flood ; But true Tradition shall never die , But Blooming still to all Eternity , Let all our Prayers , incens'd by true Zeal , Defend us from Fanatick Commonweal . Devils believe , and ( when compell'd ) confess , Yet Devils still ; Our Criminals no less : Not like true Penitents , confess all sin , They hide the worst , the Devil 's still within ; What the Scotch-Whig dares not , these Rebels do , Both Will and Act into Damnation go , Whilst we with Prayers , Offerings of Praise , Send our Thanksgivings up for these past days : Our days were almost spent ; one minute more Had made Three Kingd . like a Common-Shore , Run down with Royal Blood of Purple Gore . Infinite mercy , ( wonderfully shown ) Preserve the Royal Blood upon the Throne ; And that we may have Blessings , when we sing , Glory to GOD , Peace , Health unto the King .

Poems written by the Right Honourable Henry Lord Arundel of Warder , and Count of the sacred Roman Empire , whilst Prisoner in the Tower . I. A Valediction to the WORLD HEnce all ye Visions of the Worlds delight , You treach'rous Dreams of our deluded Passion too long hath seiz'd on Reasons Right , sence , And play'd the Tyrant in her own defence : Her flatt'ring Fancies hurri'd me about . To seek content which I could ne'er find out . If any pleasure did slide o'er my sence , It left a mark of shame when it went thence . And when possest , it relished no more ; And I remain'd as Thirsty as before : Those pleasant Charms that did my heart seduce Seem'd great pursu'd , but less'ned in the Use ; And that false Flame that kindled my Desire , E'er I could Taste , the Pleasure did expire . But Reason now shall re-possess her Throne , And Grace restore what Nature had o'erthrown , My Better Genius prompts me to declare Against those Follies , and to side with Her : She tells me 't is high time to stemm that Tide , Whose Torrent doth us from our selves divide . Those Brutal Passions do un-man our Mind , And rule , where Virtue had them Slaves design'd . Such Usurpation shall prevail no more , I will to Reason her just Rights restore : And make my Rebel Heart that Duty pay To Her , which to my Sence was cast away . But this ( dear Lord ) must be Thy work , not mine , Thy Grace must finish what I but design : It is Thy Pow'r alone that first doth Move , Then give Us Strength to Execute and Love . For Nature hath by Custom so prevail'd , And such Dominion o'er our Sence entail'd , That we can never hope but by Thy Hand To free our Captive Souls from her Command . That fatal Liberty which for our Good Thou gav'st us , was ill us'd , worse understood . Men made by Reason , not like Beasts , t' obey , Losing that Reason , prove more Beasts than they ; And sure they lose it , when they do dispence With their known Duty , to delight the Sence . Since then thy Bounty doth my Heart inspire , Make me to Do , as well as to Desire : Set so my warring Heart from Passions free , That it may ne'er love any thing but Thee . By thy sweet force my Stubborn heart incline To quit my Conduct , and to follow Thine : So shall my Soul by double Conquest prove , Bought by thy Blood , and conquer'd by thy Love . II. Persecution no Loss . WHat can we lose for him , when all we have Are but the Favours which his Bounty gave ; And which , when Losses force us to restore , God only takes 'em for to give us more : And by an happy Change doth kindly prove , He takes our Fortunes but to give us Love . How vainly should that Beggar chide his Fate , Who quits his Dung-hill for a Chair of State : So fares it with us , when God doth displace The Gifts of Fortune for the Gifts of Grace . God on Sufferings set so high Esteem , He that way chose the lost World to Redeem : And when his Love and Nature were at strife , He valu'd more his Sufferings than his Life . And shall Opinion have more pow'r to move Than his Example , Doctrine , or his Love ! Love makes Afflictions pleasing ; to complain , Lessens our Merit , and augments the Pain . Let 's humbly then submit to his Design , And give that freely which we must resign : So shall our Losses prove the best Increase Of future Glory , and our present Peace . — Which grant for thy ●assion . III. On those Words of the Psalm , — God chasti●eth whom he loveth . IF then the Earnest of thy Favours be Afflictions , good God , let 'em light on me . I ▪ ll glory more in such a kind Distress , Than in all Comforts where thy Love is less . And by my Misery I 'll make it known In spite o' th World , how much I am Thy own ; No fruitful Showr's shall by the thirsting Plant Be kindlier entertain'd than Scorn and Want . Or Loss of Honour , Fortune or Delight Shall be by me ; That which did once affright ▪ And fill'd my troubled Mind with Care and Grief , Shall be my future Comfort and Relief . I never more will court a smiling Fate Since he 's so happy , that is desolate . Afflictions shall be pleasing , since they come Like friendly show'rs to send us sooner home . And by thy love , such Charms are in 'em found As cure the Heart ; which they intend to wound ; Such strange Effects doth Grace in us produce To change as well their Nature , as their Use . IV. Considerations before the Crucifix . WHen I behold Thee on that Fatal Tree ( Sweet Jesu ) Suffering , and that 't is for me ; When I consider in that Purple Flood My Sins ebb out , but with thy Life and Blood ; When I reflect how dear my Soul hath cost , I 'm mov'd to wish it rather had been lost ; For how can that Life please that doth destroy The Life of him , by whom we Life enjoy . And yet to wish thou hadst not suffer'd so , Were to condemn thy Love and Wisdom too ; For if we joy in what thy Death hath brought , We must allow the pains with which 't was bought : So both our Life and Death unitedly , Nature's Life is to have her Maker die . It is thy will ( dear Lord ) must be obey'd , And in that Duty both these Debts are payd . O let my Soul , in a due measure , find A Joy becoming , and a mourning Mind ; A Joy in thy kind Will , ev'n whilst it made Sun-shine in Nature by thy God-head's shade . A grief to see the Torments Sin did merit , And Man deserv'd , God should himself inherit . That thus divided 'twixt thy Pain and Will , We may resign with Joy , and yet grieve still . Uniting so these Trophies of thy Love , That weeping here , we may rejoyce above . V. Vpon the Pains of Hell . O Restless Groans ! O sloathful Tears ! O vain Desires of fruitless Tears ! One timely Sigh had eas'd that Flame , Which Millions now do seek in vain ; Eternal Penance now 's thy Fate , For having wept and sigh'd too late : That short remorse that thou didst flie , Is chang'd into Eternity ; Neglected Mercy hath no room , When Justice once has fixt his Doom . Prevent them timely by thy Care , That endless Penance of Despair ; Then weep betimes , your Tears here may Turn Night into Eternal Day ; It 's only they have power to move , And turn God's Blessing into Love ; If by the Virtue of his Grace , Thou shewest them a proper place ; Which grant we may for Christ's sake .

Majesty in Misery : Or an Imploration to the KING of Kings ; Written by His late Majesty King CHARLES the First in his durance at Carisbroke Castle , 1648. GReat Monarch of the World , from whose Arm springs The Potency and Power of Kings , Record the Royal Woe , My Sufferings , And teach my Tongue that ever did confine Its Faculties in Truth's Seraphick Line , To track the Treasons of Thy Foes and Mine . Nature and Law by Thy Divine Decree , ( The only Work of Righteous Loyalty , ) With this dim Diadem invested Me. With it the sacred Scepter , purple Robe , Thy holy Unction , and the Royal Globe , Yet I am levell'd with the Life of Job . The fiercest Furies that do daily tread , Vpon My Grief , My Gray Discrowned Head , Are those that owe My Bounty for their Bread . They raise a War , and Christen It the CAUSE , Whilst Sacrilegious Persons have Applause , Plunder and Murther are the Kingdom 's Laws . Tyranny bears the Title of Taxation , Revenge and Robery are Reformation . Oppression gains the name of Sequestration . My Loyal Subject , who in this bad Season Attended me , ( by the Law of God and Reason ) They dare Impeach , and punish for High-Treason . Next at the Clergy do their Furies frown , Pious Episcopacy must go down , They will destroy the Crozier and the Crown . Church-men are chain'd , and Schismaticks are freed , Mechanicks preach , and Holy Fathers bleed , The Crown is crucified with the Creed . The Church of England does all Faction foster , The Pulpit is usurpt by each Imposter , Ex tempore excludes the Pater Noster . The Presbyter and Independent's Seed , Springs from broad blades to make Religion bleed , Herod and Pontius Pilate are agreed . The Corner Stone's misplac'd by every Pavier , With such a bloody Method and Behaviour , Their Ancestors did crucifie our Saviour . My Royal Consort from whose Fruitful Womb , So many Princes legally have come , Is forc'd in Pilgrimage to seek a Tomb. Great Britain's Heir is forced into France , Whilst on his Father's Head his Foes advance , Poor Child ! He weeps out his Inheritance . With My own Power My Majesty they wound , In the King's Name the King Himself 's uncrownd , So doth the Dust destroy the Diamond . With Propositions daily they inchant , My Peoples Ears , such as due Reason daunt , And the Almighty will not let Me grant . They promise to erect My Royal Stem , To make Me Great , ● ' advance my Diadem , If I will first fall down and Worship Them . But for Refusal they devour My Thrones , Distress My Children , and destroy My Bones , I fear they 'll force Me to make Bread of Stones . My Life they prize at such a slender Rate , That in My Absence they draw Bills of Hate , To prove the KING a Traitor to the State . Felons attain more Priviledge than I , They are allow'd to Answer e'er they dye ; 'T is Death to Me to ask the Reason why . But Sacred Saviour , with Thy Words I woo Thee to forgive , and not be bitter to Such as Thou know'st do not know what they do . For since they from the LORD are so disjoynted , As to contemn the Edict He appointed , How can they prize the Power of his Anointed ? Augment My Patience , nullifie My Hate , Preserve My Issue , and inspire My Mate , Yet though We perish , bless this Church and State . Vota dabunt quae Bella negarunt .

Interrogatories : Or a Dialogue between WHIG and TORY . Whig .

WHat is term'd Popery ?

Tory.

To Depose a King .

What 's true Presbytery ?

To Act the Thing .

What 's our best way to thorough Reformation ?

By Lies and Fables to embroil the Nation .

Of Sin , what 's greatest ?

Perjury .

What then of Perjuries the worst ?

By Hired Men.

What Hired Perjury doth God most abhorr ?

That which Religion feigns pretences for ,

When doth this Crime portend a Kingdom 's ●all ?

When countenanc'd 't is Epidemical .

What follows from degrading a Successor ?

A Right of next Dethroning a Possessor .

When shall free Subjects be no more opprest ?

When once they know what 't is they 'd have redrest .

When shall sweet Concord our lost Peace repair ?

When Covenant agrees with Common Prayer .

When shall the Brethren cease to groan ?

When Eighty Two returns to Forty One .

Of all Mankind , what 's the most Injur'd thing ?

T is a French Subject , or — ( God save King .

On the Relief of Vienna , a Hymn for the True-Protestants . REnown'd be Christian Arm , The Turkish Whigs be damn'd , And lousie Holwel in their Head , Who our blue Saints has shamm'd . II. These are your precious Rogues ! Rather than not Rebel Against their Lawful Prince , and God , They 'l joyn the Devil of Hell . III. These are your True-blue-men , Who Persecution cry , When They , with Julian their old Friend , The Christian God defie ! IV. But he has found an Arm To do the Royal Work , And vindicate Himself , against True-Protestant and Turk . V. 'T was a true Christian Prince That made him know His pleasure , And taught the Villains what is due Both to their GOD and CESAR . VI. God bless our good King CHARLES . And JAMES , His own dear Brother ; And may they both live long , live long , To Sucour one another . VII . God bless the King of Poland too , And every Christian KING ; The Name is sacred ; Hang the Dogs Who do not love the Thing .

A Narrative of the Popish Plot , shewing the cunning Contrivance thereof .

The Contents of the First Part. How Sir Godfrey is kill'd , his Body they hide , Which brought out in Chair , a Horseback does ride , How Jesuits disguis'd our Houses do fire ; How subtly they Plot , & the King's death conspire ; Of divers great Lords drawn in to their Bane , An Irish Army , and Pilgrims from Spain . I. GOod People I pray , give ear unto me , A Story so strange you have never been told How the Jesuit , Devil , and Pope did agree Our State to destroy , and Religion so old : To murder our King , A most horrible thing ! But first of Sir Godfrey of his Death I must sing ; For how e'er they disguis'd , we plainly can see , Who murder'd that Knight , no good Christian cou'd be . The truth of my story if any man doubt , W' have witnesses ready to swear it all out . II. At Somerset-house , there is plain to be seen A Gate which will lead you into the back-Court ; This place for the Murder most fitting did seem , For thither much People be freely resort : His Body they toss'd From Pillar to Post , And shifted so often , t 'had like t' have been lost ; To watch with dark-lanthorns the Jesuits did go , But no ways distrusted our honest Bedlow . The truth of my story , &c , III. Lest such close Contrivements at length should take air , When as his dead Body corrupted did grow , They quickly did find an invisible Chair , And set him on Horse-back to ride at So-hoe : His own Sword to th' Hilt , To add to their Guilt , They thrust through his Body , but no Blood was spilt ; T' have it thought he was kill'd by a Thief they d d mean , So they left all 's Money , and made his Shoes clean The truth of my story , &c. IV. To shew now th' excess of Jesuitical Rage , They this Loyal City to ruin would bring , 'Cause you Citizens are so religious and sage , And ever much noted as true to your King : T' your Houses they go With Fire and with Tow , Then pil●er your Goods , and 't is well you 'scape so ; Y' have seen how they once set the Town all in flame ; Yet 't is their best Refuge , if we believe Fame . The truth of my story , &c. V. By Bedlow's Narration is shown you most clear , How Jesuits disguis'd into Houses will creep ; In a Porter's or Carman's Frock they appear , Nay , will not disdain to cry Chimney sweep ; Or sell you Small-Cole , Then drop in some hole A Fir-ball , or thrust it up by a long Pole . But I now must relate a more tragical thing , How these Villains conspir'd to murder our King . VI. At the' White-horse in April was their main Consult , Where a Writing these Plotters wickedly frame ; The Death of our Sov'reign was the result , To which at least Forty all signed their Name : They would not do that In the place where they sat , Trusty Oats must convey't from this man to that ; To make sure work , by Poison the deed must be done , By a long Dagger , and shot from a Gun ▪ The truth , &c. VII . For fear at St. Omers their Oats might be miss'd , They agreed with a Devil t' appear in his place , In a Body of Air , ( believe if you list ) Which lookt just like Oats , and mov'd with the same grace ; ‛ Tcou'd Plot , it cou'd Cant , Turn eyes like a Saint , And of our great Doctor no feature did want : Thus hundred did swear they saw Oates ev'ry day . But true Oates was here , and the Devil saw they . The truth , &c. VIII . From Father Oliva Commissions did come , To raise a great Army much Treasure is spent ; The Old Man did once think to take Post from Rome , For to ride at the Head of them was his intent ; But Bell●s ' was fit ( Who can deny it ? ) To command in his place , when his Gout wou'd permit ; Lord Stafford was proper'st to trust with their pay , Old Ratcliff to range them in Battel-Array . The truth , &c. IX . Th' High-Treasures place the Lord Powis did ( Men of desp'rate Fortunes oft venture too far ; ) Lord Peters would hazard Estate , and his Ease , And Life for the Pope too , in this holy War ; Lord Ar'ndel , of old So war-like and bold , Made choice of a Chancellors Gown we are told ; All these did conspire with the Lord Castlemain , Who now his good Dutchess will ne'r catch again . The truth of my Story , &c. X. Great store of wild Irish , both civil and wise , Designed to joyn with the Pilgrims of Spain , Many thousands being ready all in good guise , Had vow'd a long Pilgrimage over the Main : To arm well this Host When it came on our Coast , Black Bills forty thousand are sent by the Post , This Army lay privately on the Sea-shore , And no man e'er heard of 'em since or before . The truth , &c.

The Second Part. I. THe Plot being thus subtly contriv'd , as you hear , To God knows how many this Secret th' fear ; impart ; Some famous for Cheats , yet their faith they don 't To tie a Knave fast they had found a new Art : They swore on a Book , And Sacrament took ; But you 'l find if into their grave Authors you look , To forswear's no sin ( as the Recorder well notes ) Nor Treason , Rebellion , nor cutting of throats . The truth , &c. II. Still blinded by Zeal , and inveigl'd by Hope , Store of Arms they provide for Fight and Defence ; The Lords must command as Vice-roys of the Pope And all over England they raise Peter-pence : Their Letters they send By Bedlow their Friend , Or else by the Post , to shew what they intend ; Some hundreds Oats saw , which the Jesuits did write , 'T is a wonder not one of them e'er came to light . The truth , &c. III. Pounds two hundred thousand they to Ireland sent , Fifteen thousand to Wakem . for Potions & Pills . Forty thousand in Fire-works we guess that they spent , And at least ten thousand for the foresaid Black Bills ; Fifteen hundred more Grove shou'd have , they swore , Four Gentleman Ruffians deserv'd Fourscore ; Pious Pickering they knew was of Masses more fond , And for thirty thousand they gave him a Bond. The truth , &c. IV. These two , to kill the King by promises won , Had now watch'd for some years in St. James's Park . And Pickering ( who nver yet shot off a Gun ) Was about to take aim , for he had a fair mark : Just going to begin't , He missed his Flint , And look in Pan , there is no Powder in 't ; For which he their Pardon did humbly beseech , Yet had thirty good lashes upon his bare Breech . The truth , &c. V. But a sadder mischance to the Plot did befall , For Oates their main Engine fail'd , when it came No marvel indeed if he cozen'd them all , to 't ; Who turn'd him a begging , and beat him to boot . He wheeling about , The whole Party did rout . And from lurking holes did ferret them out , Till running himself blind , he none of them knew , And fainting at Councel , he could not swear true . The truth , &c. VI. To strengthen our Dr. brave Bedlow's brought in , A more credible Witness was not above ground ; He vows and protests , whate'er he had been , He wou'd not swear false now for five hundred pound : And why should we fear They falsly would swear , To damn their own Souls and lose by it here ; For Oates , who before had no peny in Purse , Discov'ring the Plot , was 7 hundred pound worse . The truth , &c. VII . Two Witnesses more were let loose from the Jayl , Though One , 't is confest , did run back from his word ; ( In danger of life a good man may be frail ) And th' Other they slander for cheating his Lord : T' each one of these men The Jesuits brought ten , To disprove 'em in time and in place , but what then One Circumstance lately was sworn most clear , By a Man who in hopes has four hundred a year . The truth , &c. VIII . Besides 't was oft urg'd , We must always suppose , To murder the King a great Plot there has been ; And who to contrive it so likely as those Who Murders and Treasons do hold for no sin ? Things being thus plain , To plead was in vain , The Jury instructed again and again , Did find them all Guilty , and to shew 't was well done , The People gave a Shout for Victory won . The truth , &c. IX . 'T is strange how these Jesuits , so subtle and wise , Should all by the Pope be so basely trepann'd , To hang with much comfort when he shall advise , And go to the Devil too at his command . He may give them leave To lye and deceive ; But what when the Rope does of Life them bereave ? Can his Holiness , think you , dispense with that pain , Or by his Indulgence raise them again ? The truth , &c. X. Yet , like Mad-men of Life a Contempt they express , And of their own happiness careless appear ; For Life or for Money not one wou'd confess , They 'd rather be Damn'd , than be Rich and live here . But surely they rav'd , When God they out-brav'd , And thought to renounce him the way to be sav'd , And with Lies in their mouths go to Heav'n in a string : So prosper all Traytors , and God save the King . The truth of my Story if any one doubt , We have Witnesses ready to swear it all out .

Concordat cum Recordo

Cl. Par.

The third Part. Written by a Lady of Quality . The Plot is vanish'd like to a bashful Sprite , Which with false flashes , ●ools could only fright . The wise , ( whose clearer Souls can penetrate , ) Find's shadows drawn before Intrigues of State . God bless our King , the Church , and Nation too , Whilst perjur'd Villains have what is their due . I. THe Presbyter has been so active of late , To twist himself into the Myster of State , Giving Birth to a Plot to amuse the dark World , 'Till into Confusion three Kingdoms are hurl'd ; It is so long since , He Murther'd his Prince , That the unwary Rabble he hopes to convince , With Jingling words that bears little sence , Deluding them with Religious pretence . II. Their Scribling Poet is such a dull Sot , To blame the poor Devil for hatching the Plot ; The Murther o' th' King , with many things more , He falsly would put on the Jesuits score : When all that have Eyes , Be they foolish , or wise , May see the sly Presbyter through his disguise ; Their brethren in Scotland has made it well known , By Murthering their Bishop what sins are their own . III. The Poet , whose sences are somewhat decay'd , Takes Joan for a Jesuit in Masquerade : His Muse ran so fast , she ne'er look'd behind her , Or else to a Woman she would have prov'd kinder . His fury 's so hot , To Hunt out the Plot , That fain he would find it where it is not , Although I 've expos'd it to all that are wise , He has stifled his Reason , and blinded his Eyes . IIII. An old Ignis fatuus , who leads men astray , And leaves them i' th the Ditch yet still keeps his way , In politique head first framed this Plot , From whence it descended to Presbyter Scot , Who quickly took Fire , And assoon did expire , Having grave sactious fools their zeal to admire ; Who for the same cause would freely fly out , But Plotting's more safer to bring it about . V. Here 's one for Religion is ready to fight , That believes not in Christ , yet swear's he 's i' th right ; If our English Church ( as he says , ) be a Whore , We 're sure 't was Jack Presbyter did her deflowr ; He 'd fain pull her down , As well as the Crown . And prostitute her to every dull Clown ; To bring in Religion that 's fit for the Rabble , Whilst Atheism serves himself that 's more able . VI. A Pestilent Peer of a levelling Spirit , Who only the Sins of his Sire doth inherit ; With an unsteady mind , and Chymerical brain , Which his broken Fortune doth weakly sustain , He lodg'd i' th' City Like Alderman brave , Being fed up with Faction to which he 's a slave ; He never durst fight , but once for his Whore , Which his feeble Courage attempted no more . VII . Another with Preaching and Praying wore out , Inspir'd by th' Covenant is grown very stout ; Th' old Cause to revive it is his design , Though the fabrick of Monarchy he undermine : He tortur'd his Pate , Both early and late , I' th' Tower , where this Mischief he hop'd to create ; But to Countrey dwelling he now doth retire , To Preach to Domesticks whilst they do admire . VIII . Another with Head both empty and light , For the good Old Cause is willing to fight ; I' th' Choice of fit Members for th' next Parliament , He spit out his zeal to the Rabbles content , Whilst his wife in great State Chose a Duke for her Mate , For whose sake a Combustion he needs would create For since his Indulgence allows her a Friend , He 'd make him as great as his Wish can extend . IX . There 's one whose fierce Courage is fal'n to decay ( At Geneva inspir'd , ) he 's much led away ; He would set up a Cypher instead of a King : From Presbyter zeal such folly doth spring . He once did betray , A whole Town in a day ; And since did at Sea fly fairly away : He had better spin out the rest of his Thread , In making Pot-Guns , which disturb not his Head . X. Some others , of Fortunes both disperst and Low , With big swelling Titles do's make a great show ; A flexible Prince they would willingly have , That to Presbyter Subjects should be a meer slav ; They'd set him on 's Throne , To tumble him down , They scorn to submit to Scepter and Crown ; And into Confusion , or Commonwealth turn , A People that hastens to be undone . If such busy heads that would us confound , Were all advanc'd high , or plac'd under ground ; W'd honour our King , and live at our ease , And make the dull Presbyter do what we please , Who has cheated our Eyes , With borrow'd disguise , Till of all our Reason they 'd taken Excise ; But let 's from their slavery strive to be free , And no People can e'er be so happy as we .

Upon the Popish PLOT . Written by a Lady of Quality . Whether you will like my Song , or like it not , It is the down fall of the Popish Plot : With Characters of Plotters here I sing , Who would destroy our good and gracious King : Whom God preserve and give us cause to hope His Foes will be rewarded with a Rope . I. SInce Counterfeit Plots has affected this Age. Being acted by Fools , and contriv'd by the Sage : In City , nor Suburbs , no man can be found , But frighted with Fire-balls , their heads turned round . From Pulpit to Pot They talk'd of a Plot , Till their Brains were enslav'd , and each man turn'd Sot : But let 's to Reason and Justice repair , And this Popish Bugbear will fly into Air. II. A Politick States-man , of Body unsound , Who once in a Tree with the Rabble set round Run Monarchy down with Fanatick Rage , And preach'd up Rebellion i'th at credulous age ; He now is at work , With the Devil and Turk , Pretending a Plot , under which he doth lurk , To humble the Mitre , while he squints at the Crown ; Till fairly and squarely he pulls them both down , III. He had sound out an Instrument fit for the Devil , Whose mind had been train'd up to all that was Evil : His Fortune sunk low , and detested by many ; Kick't out at St. Omers , not pity'd by any . Some Whisperers fix'd him Upon this Design , And with promis'd Reward did him countermine : Though his Tale was ill told , it serv'd to give fire ; Despis'd by the wise , whilst fools did admire . IV. The next that appear'd , was a Fool-hardy Knave , Who had ply'd the High-ways , and to Vice was a Slave . Being fed out of Bask in Prison forlorn , No wonder that Money should make him forsworn . He boldly dares swear , What men tremble to hear ; And learns a false Lession without any fear : For when he is out , there 's one that 's in 's place , Relieves his invention and quickens his Pace . V. In a Country Prison another was found , Who had cheated his Lord of One 1000 pound ; He was free'd from 's Fetters to swear and inform , Which very couragiously he did perform . To avoid future strife , He takes away Life , To save poor Protestants from Popish Knife ; Which only has Edge to cut a Rogues Ears , For abusing the People with needless fears . VI. Another starts up and tells a false Tale , Which straight he rovoked his Courage being frail : But to fortifie one that needeth his aid , Being tempted with Money , which much doth perswade ; He swore he knew all That contrived the fall , Of one , who that day was seen near to White hall : Where he by the Treasurers powerful Breath , More likely by far received his Death . VII . A Gown-man most grave with Fanatical form , With his scribbling wit doth blow up this storm : For Moth-eaten Records he worships the Devil , Being now lodg'd at Court he must become civil . He hunts all about , And makes a great Rout , To find some old Prophecy to help him out : But his friend that was hous'd with him at Fox-hall , Being joyn'd with his Master still strengthens 'em all VIII . Then comes a crack'd Merchant with his shallow Brain , Who first did lead up his stigmatiz'd Train : He since is grown useless , his Skill being small , Yet at a dead lift , he 's still at their call . He has pester'd the Press , In ridiculous dress , In this scribling Age he could not do less : But to so little purpose as plainly appears , With pen he had as good sate picking his Ears . IX . To end with a Prayer , as now 't is my Lot , Confounded be Plotters , with their Popish Plot : God bless and preserve our gracious good King , That he may ne'er feel the Presbyters sting : As they brought his Father With rage to the Block , So would they extirpate all the whole Stock : But with their false Plots I hope they will end At Tyburn , where the Rabble will surely attend .

The great Despair of the London-Whigs for the Loss of the Charter . THen is our Charter ( Polexfin ) quite lost ? Is there no Aid from the new sainted Post ? Are our Sham-plots and Perjuries all in vain ? If not , we 'll summon Patience back again . Saints Prayers to Heaven w' have found will not prevail , But more propitious Hell will never fail . Then let Almighty TITVS ( for you know ) He needs must be a Magick Doctor too , For how do you think at Salamancha he Could take such an Invisible Degree , Unknown to all the University . Let him raise up the once great Tapski's Ghost , With his Retinue , all that num'rous Host Of brave Heroick Spirits , who could dye For Treason , and Rebellion juctifie ; Amongst those , Steven condemn'd by wicked Laws , The Proto-Martyr for the last Good CAVSE . Advance you brave Arch-Trait . from the Grave , Who made Slaves Princes , and your Prince a Slave . Bradshaw and Cromwel , those two Glorious Names That raise dull Treason up to Active Flames , Let these Infernal Worthies then be backt By Zimri and the Jury that he pactt ; With all the fiery Zealots of the Town , But chiefly our great Patriot of Renown , To whom we 'll give some pretty Polish Crown . Not that we promi●'d him , for all our Zeal Is only how to raise a Common weal. With this Cabal we●ll fool all Equity , And gain what Law has lost by Polity . Here God-like Tapskie once shall speak again , And what he speaks Fates shall oppose in vain ; For if Alive he Treason taught so well , What a vast Traytor now he 's school'd in Hell . Could Cromwel once by force assume the Crown , And sha'n't this angry Ghost relieve one Town . Sha'n't Ignoramus , who with no ado Could save great Tapski , save our Charter too ? But what are only Councels now ? The Course That we would take in this Distress , is Force ; But the Militia now alas , is gone , 'T is odds to what we had in Forty One , The Saints are all sequester'd of their Right , The City govern'd by a Jebusite : What then should we distressed Rebels do ? Is it too late , can't we for Pardon sue ? Why Good King Charles's Clemency may spare Despair . Tho' we in two Reb. had our share , Nor need we hang our selves like Judas for But let 's , like Origen since other hopes are past , Hope the poor Devil may be sav'd at last .

A Panegyrick to His Royal Highness , upon His Majesties late Declaration ; especially drawn from Unio Dissidentium Pag. 2. Part 14. Pag. 3. Part 3. Pag. 4. Part. 3. and 4. OF a Just King , the Pow'rful Words declare Great James presumptive and apparent Heir : ( The words betoken one and self-same Thing : Though some , Them would under distinction bring . ) Such Declaration , Henry Third of France Wisely made use of , when some 'gan advance Pretensive Heirs , Fourth Henry to displace , ( A lawful Heir , though much remote in Race . ) Such Declaration by both Kings must be , An Act impulsed by Divine Decree , What good effects from first of these did flow , The Gallick Chronicles at large do show : Check'd Henry after Care and War became Eternally Great in his Fame and Name . Great Duke in this Declarement acquiesce , In sweet Repose and Rest thy self possess . This heavenly opening of thy Brothers Breast , ( With all due Reverence be it exprest , ) Hath likeness unto that in Sacred Text. Save that a Brother's own'd in stead of Son , What more than this can in the Case be done ? Who dare henceforth this Kingly Act gainsay , Who dare against Thy Royal Highness bray , Surely the Mouths of the tumultuous Crew , Are stopt , or else to means we bid adiew , Where a King's Word is , There is Power , so saith The Sacred Writ on which we ground our Faith . ) Henceforth of just necessity must cease Those clamors which so much disturb thy peace . Henceforth no Voyage over British Seas , Or cold Retirement under Scotch Degrees Need'st thou to take , but still abide where Birth Thou first receiv'dst , ( passing time in Mirth ) By Sovereign belov'd , by Friends carest , Rever'd by all , and by the Heavens blest , Exactly making good that Expectation , Of being mighty Pillar to this Nation : A Stay of State , a strong supporting Prop , Ordain'd to Scale the Point of Honours top : Long since foretold of thee as we may see At large exprest in day Fatality . Nor can'st be spar'd from Serene Charles his side . Being active vigilant , helpful to Guide Affairs of State by Land as well as Sea ; For last of which none more renown'd can be , Let Arragon her Testimonial give , And Thy Dutch Victory in sixty five . Which Higgons Muse hath so inspir'dly sung , Making the Neptune's Heroes chief among . None may so well that glorious Motto claim , Of being Terror of the Ocean Main . Which Louis did for Michael's Knights ordain . As once a Servant of King Edward's went With Royal Cup his Master to present , One foot did trip ; being quick he did prevent ( With t'other Legg ) the Fall , Godwin of Kent , Laughing , said to the King , Ev'n thus one Brother We see is ready still to help another . The King reply'd , Just so might Alfred me , But , That remov'd by base Treachery . The Belgick Sheaf and Aesops Moral Teach , Betwixt own Brothers there should be no breach . The Scripture say's , They must together dwell , Vnion 's their Heaven , Disunion's their Hell . Vnworthy are they , whosoe'er they are Fraternal Vnion to break that dare . Then in despight of such as would disjoyn Your Persons , Live together says Eloigne . When men are absent , their back friends dare say And do those things which else they 'd ne'er essay , Divide & impera we may English make , First separate , and then Advantage take . Long live Great Prince , who not desir'st to see Thy Lieges Funeral Solemnity . But guided by an equal and just Soul , Humbly submit'st unto Divine controul , Nor dost expect , but stay to see the Fate , Ordain'd above , Sign'd from Eternal Date . We read of Louis a Montpensier Peer . Who though his Father had been dead 5 year , Yet took such Grief at seeing of his Grave , As did streight after him of Life bereave ; Even just so , James we may expect to Dye , When Charles submits to mortal Destiny : God's wondrous hand , after a long Exile , Them hand in hand brought back to Native Isle , When wisest men esteem'd their state forlorn , They saw them stated in the Land where born ; A strange agreement they have underwent , Sometimes of Bliss , sometimes of Discontent : Why may not then Fraternal Sympathy Co-operate to dying Harmony ? When thinking what they 've suffer'd in times past , One can't endure the other to out-last ; But as they 've liv'd together so to die , May be their Fate ordain'd by God on high ; The possibility of this is no doubt , By various Authors we may make it out . Let 'em both live until they have out-done , That Age which David calls a wondrous one : That Royal Prophet whose Afflictions were So great , and with which James his may compare . Those Clouds are clear'd , the Sun is now brast out , His Brother's Rays incompass him about ; Apollo's Rays , that can alone dispell All Fumes and Vapours though exhal'd from Hell ; Those Rays late issued from the Declaration , For ever making Calm and Still the Nation . Abs-hinc Aethereas cessans volitare per aur as ( Optatus ) placidae Tutus adesto Domi , Audent-absentis nonnulli rodere famam , Cum fuerit praesens or a reclusa tenent : Est 〈…〉 cohors . Dux inclite Cominus esto Si forsan fueris Eminus ista ferit .

To His Royal Highness the Duke . THey who oppose your Right unto the Crown , Would , had they pow'r , pull Monarchy quite down : 'T is 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 fait to disinherit 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 'l 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 misguided 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 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 , 't is 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 't is 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 .

A Congratulatory Poem upon the happy Arival of his Royal Highness JAMES Duke of York , at London , April 8. 1682. Written by a Person of Quality . Si Natura negat , facit Exultatio Versum . NOw to be silent , or to write in Prose , Were a like Sin , such as I leave to those Who either have but dull , unthinking brains , Or whose bad Arguments enhance their Pains . But when a Thesis is prepar'd and fit , And nothing wanting but an equal Wit ; I need no Muses help to aid me on , When that my Subject is my Helicon : Great YORK is such , who Him their Theme intend , Will nothing find so hard , as how to End . And see He comes , my Joyes excessive grow , Like swelling waves each other they o'erflow . At York's Return , see Heaven and Nature smile , And gen'ral Gladness spreads o'er all our Isle : The Valleys , Hills , and Woods , now deckt , and gay , Welcome his Coming in their best Array : On every Bough the chirping Minstrels meet , In tuneful Notes , the God-like James to greet . At his Approach , the Sun new thaws the Earth , Who to her lavish Bounties gives quick Birth ; Sure all things , but dissenting Citts , accord , To own Great JAMES for their next Lawful Lord . But above All , see Sacred Charles descends To greet the best of Brothers , best of Friends ; His eager Love , impatient of Delay , Resolves to meet Him on his tedious way : And now They 're met , who can Their Joys reveal ? They sure do only know them , who them feel . York's return'd : T' England what can fate prevent That after this , she can call Discontent ? That Noble Conqu'ror is Return'd ; Yorks He Who 's the true Favourite of Victory . Who whatsoever He attempted , wrought Event still gladly lackying his wise Thought . I challenge thee proud Greece , and prouder Rome , From their first Birth , and to their latest Tomb ; Peruse your Heroes , read their Actions o're , Make what was somewhat , by Romancing , more : Add what you can invent , then if you dare Bring them , yet if with York you them compare , They shall as much that Competition shun As a weak Taper , yields to the bright Sun . Which of Yours Triumpht for anothers Gains , That theirs might be the Profit , his the Pains . Brave JAMES has oft for haughty England fought , And for Unthankful Souls the Conquest brought , For whilst at Sea , their fiercest Foes He Quells , For His Reward , the Ungrateful Land Rebels . Behold , the Nations Curse , a Plot is rais'd , The Banter'd People stood a while amaz'd , Tho now'ts decry'd , more than at first 't was Prais'd . They find , tho late , that Plots are to th' Precise The needful'st things , whether they 're Truth or Lyes , To bring in Commonwealths , and Kings to sacrifice : But Charles and James are Heav'ns chiefest Care , Tho their Blest Father perisht in their Snare , The Gods with his Sons Lives that Martyrs loss Repair . Blush , Blush thou Speaker to the Damn'd Cabal , No longer against York and Goodness yawl , No more to Factious Clubs thou trait'rous Insect crawl . Let thy Rebellious Lectures now be at a stand , Thou Manuscript of Treason in Short-hand ; The Devil 's Enchiridion , being no less Than the Perfection of all wickedness , In vain are all the Plots you can devise , Too loud the Father's Blood for Vengeance cries Then add not to Damnation if thou' rt wise . Crouch , Crouch , Disloyal Whigs ▪ ●'unthinking Crew , Not others Ruine , you your own pursue . No more by Crop-Ear'd Villains cheated be Both of your Sense , and dearest Loyalty , By Religious Glow-worms , maskt Impiety . And Absalom , thou piece of Ill-plac'd Beauty , As Happy be as Fair , and know thy Duty . For some what in that Noble Frame I saw , Which , or a Father , or a King can awe . And bashful Corah do thou leave to swear ; If not for Law , or Punishments you care , At least because thou know'st no more , Forbear . And you ye Vulgar Fiends , ye Scum of Hell , Whose Grace lies in your Swearing well ; Than you Nile's greedy Beast more mild appears , That whom it kills bemoans them with its tears : At last in pity to your Souls give o'er Let out your Founder'd Hackney-Oaths no more : Oh! for the Natious Good , and Publick Peace , May this stupendious way of Plotting cease Burn all Associations you have writ , Conspire no more two Princes Fall , they sit Too near to thunder , and you 'll sure be hit . Brave York unmov'd , your various Ills can bear Firm as the Center , Fixt as th' Northern Star . Since Sacred Charles does know him loyal , true , With a disdainful Scorn he laughs to view The worst , the lowest dregs of Men dare do . Go on Disloyal London , stand and see Your Lawful Prince murder'd in Effigie , For sure the stroke was aim'd above his Knee . Raise still your Tumults , but you 'll see at length Antoeus-like , by Falling he 'll get strength . Hence with all shallow Plots , such Juglers blind The Fond Chimeras of Phantick Minds . Now York appears , see how they sink away , As frightful Shades vanish at sight of Day . Forth , Forth , all Loyal Souls , his Coming greet , Lay your Hearts low beneath his Royal Feet . He comes , he comes , sure none but Traitors stay , When York's the word , and a King leads the way . Welcom brave Prince , welcom in balmy Rest To them by Pain , and want of Sleep opprest ; Welcom as Health to th' Sick , to Bridegrooms , Night ; Welcom as to disorder'd Chaos , Light . Let loudest Shouts strait cleave the yielding Air , And Bells and Bonfires our vast Joys declare ; Let Rocks , and Hills , and ‛ Dales , and dancing Floods , Hear our glad Sounds , who with repeating Noise , Will help to double our repeated Joys . Oh! Glorious Sight ! Oh! Miracle of Fate ! To see at once Two Princes in their State ; As if Two Suns did harmlesly agree , Not the kind Heavens to Fright , but Beautifie . Fill up the Bowls , let Charles and James go round , And to the Vaulted Sky your Clangors found . May Charles's Reign flourish in wealth and peace , Whil'st York's chief care is both of 'em t' increase . May no Sham-Plots our Happiness e'er thwart , Or cause these Royal Brothers e'er to part . Oh! May They Live and Love , while Streams to th' Main Their Tribute pay , while Skies do Stars sustain . Having these Two what can our Bliss destroy ? My Verses may have End , but not our Joy .

To His Royal Highness the DUKE , upon his Arrival . WHen You , Great Sir , began to disappear , All Loyal Hearts invaded were with Fear , Hope , only in Scotch Rebels liv'd , who knew , Our Courage and our Conduct fled in you . Pirates and Rebels joyntly did Command , Turks prey'd on all by Sea , and Scots by Land . The Turks ! who ne'er so insolent were grown T' approach our British-Coasts , till You were gone . Though what the Algerines first tempted forth , Was that which mov'd their Brethren in the North. Both saw we were forsaken by that Hand , Which had with equal Glory once maintain'd Our Flag at Sea , our Scepter on the Land . Brave Causes both , worthy the Sword alone Of Charles's Brother , and the Martyrs Son . What Force is able with that Arm to fight Which pleads a Martyrs vows , a Sov'raigns right ? Now had you left your Brother's Rule , the Land And past those Seas which once You did Command ; Beyond our English Bounds , those Bounds that were To our poor Isle , none to your Arms appear ; Where once your Sword was drawn , your Course you bend , Your Sword must still beyond Our Rule extend , Flanders at once does Peace and You receive , While Foes our Peace disturb , and Traffick grieve , Yet these alas ! like some ill Omens were , But Harbingers of our approaching Fear . For He , in whom we all an Intrest crave , A Brothers You , we those of Subjects have ; Whose mighty Soul could not be well contain'd Within his own Dominion on the Land Descends , the Ocean and his Ships to view , Which oft engage him in deep Thoughts of you . On your Employment musing , and your Charge , Wishes in vain , a Subjects Soul so Large . Fit for the Steerage of so vast a Fleet , Or near him at the Helme on Land to sit ; Who next the Throne might shine in silent Peace Or in loud wars , might Thunder on the Seas . But finding none , He feels the loss though late Of such a Limb new sever'd from the State . The first Prince of the Blood now from him gone Unguarded on the Right hand left the Throne . For none in Deeds so Great , or Birth so High His Place in Arms or Councils may supply : None may of Right ascend , they may invade , For Princes of the Blood are Born , not Made . T' enjoy their Titles , and possess their Lot , None ever are Elected , but Begot . Wanting his sole Support in all his Care , His Stay in Peace , and his chief Strength in War . On whom , the King still in the first place ●●an'd , And next the King , on whom we all depend . Unsafe in Rule , uneasie in his Mind , Tost like the Sea , which labours with the wind , His Hopes at length , He to Despair re●ig●s , Decays in Vigour , and in Health de●●●nes . Soon as the fatal News once reach'd your ear , Urg'd with a Brother's Zeal , and Subject's care , You fly with such like haste as Angels move , On all the wings of Duty , and of Love . Angels and You a like Imployment have To succour Kings , and distress'd Nations save . The Forreign Shore , which when you did arrive Met You in shew , your Ve●●el to Receive . Removing now , l●st by its guilty Stay , It might be thought your Voyage to delay : Does in Appearance awfully Recede And seems in Duty from your Vessel fled ; Which proud to bear him for her single Load , Who still whole Fleets and Armies led abroad . All Opposition does , like You , despise ; And labour'd by the waves , still higher rise . No danger can be great enough for Fear Where Cesar's Brother , and his Fortune are . His high Extraction , and his happy Fate The proud Sails fill , and Vessel elevate . While to the winds her Canvas wings are spread , The lazy winds you chide , for want of speed ; And with impatience their Delays controul , For winds compar'd to wing'd Desires , are dull . Your Thoughts alas ! preventing them , before Your Voyage had dispatcht and reacht the shore . Nor Landed on the Shore , do you proceed With more Solemnity , or with less Speed ; With such dispatch arriving at the Court You Fame prevent , and ev'n outfly Report As swift , yet not less silent , than the Light , Of which we hear no news , till 't is in sight . Me thinks I see the Royal Brothers meet , Their Souls and Bodies in Embraces knit . While in the Union of their Arms is seen , The closer Union of their Hearts within . How they embrace , and in th' Embraces melt , Cannot reported be , It must be felt ▪ While Joys too mighty for their Tongues arise , And flow out in th' expressions of their Eyes . Such pow'rful Transports , for which , words we want Which when we imitate , we best shall paint . Can we who see this , stand unmov'd ? Can we Who see th' embraces of the Brothers , be , ( If their Example , or our Duty bind , ) To them unfaithful , or our selves unkind ? Ah no! let us in Love our strife employ , And never weep henceforth , but Tears of Joy .

To His Royal Highness the Duke of York , Upon his Return to the Care and Management of the Navy of England . GReat Sir , till now I with Impatience staid , To see what Muse her early Homage paid ; Which doubtless , all , but the Seditious few , Allow to our great injur'd York is due : And am with wonder seiz'd You are so long Un-importun'd by the Poetick throng . For Faction oft , and vainly they engage , They scatter Songs , and trifle on the Stage : For Malice , or for Bread , they always write , The Great with well plac'd flattery delight , In Libel , or Lampoon exhausted quite . Ungrateful Muses ! not one Line afford ? When our lov'd Charles has to his Right restor'd The Nations Darling , and the Oceans Lord . With just contentment all good men beheld The Hydra of the Rebel-Faction quell'd . Like Heav'nly Vengeance it was sure , though slow , Which we to Cesar's steady Virtue owe ; That Virtue , which unshaken as a Rock , So long has stood the bandying Parties Shock : Till Mercy , much abus'd , did late consent , To punish those who never would repent . One onely thing was left unfinish'd yet , At once our Joys , and Safety to compleat : Which our great ' Pilot saw , and strait commands , The Fleet be rescued from unskilful Hands . Whom should he chuse for his important Trust , But one Experienc'd , Valiant , Prudent , Just ? In whom he finds a Brother , and a Friend : To him deserv'dly does he recommend Whose Ships , his Courage could so well defend . When neighb'ring Carthage dar'd our Seas invade Dispute their Homage , and disturb our Trade : Our English Scipio to whom Rome must yield , With shame repuls'd them from the watry Field . His gen'rous Soul with easie Vict'ry cloy'd , Humbled that State he could have quite destroy'd . Spar'd only to be Monuments of his Fame , They tremble still at mention of his Name . Both Leaders thus their Countreys Foes subdu'd , Both paid alike with base ingratitude : Rome hers , and we our Hero would exclude . Mistaken Pandors , ignorant and Proud , With furious Zeal may bawl in Senates loud : Religion there , and Property may use , As words of Art the Vulgar to abuse ; But if in higher Stations they appear , They lose their way , and act beyond their Sphear . Men born t' improve some little Countrey Seat . Have Souls too narrow to direct a Fleet. This Caesar found , and ere it was too late , Took from their Shoulders the unequal weight . A Burthen he himself alone can bear , Or York who now supports the mighty Care . York our Protecting Genius , by kind Heaven , To calm our Fears , and growing Tumults given : From many dangers sav'd , himself to be His Countreys lasting , best Security .

A Welcom to His Royal Highness into the City , April the 20th 1682. Motto . Invenias paucos hic ut in orbe bonos . CLad with the Infant Glories of the Spring , Haste pious Muse , Great James Divinely sing ; Riding secure in peaceful Albions Bay , Grateful to Her above the New-born Day . Welcom Great Sir , salutes you ev'ry where , Belov'd by Jove , by Birth His chiefest Care : With buisy joy our Seven-sold Lute we String , To tell in Notes your Safety to the King ; Mov'd with soft Numbers Envy here is shown , Each strives to bid you welcom to the Town . With melting Harmony our Harps are Strung , Soft as the Love with which the Throne is Hung : Such Mirth Your Presence adds to Monarchy , In spite of Rage , and Factious Anarchy Those Closet-Products of Damn'd Whiggery : Such new rais'd Plagues of every Corporation , We will allay by Anti-Association ; Laden with Loyalty our Arms shall be That Golden Bracelet of blest Unity , The sole unbias'd Basis of true Property : Next after Charles a Monarch you may claim , At whose Protection all our Fortunes aim . England triumphant now may brighter shine , Blest with the Rays of thy good Fathers Line ; Crown'd with Religions peaceful Olive , She With Tory Zeal a Monument to Thee Shall raise of ever verdant Piety . Long did our Royal Monarch in his Mind Hugg your Return , and hop'd that some kind wind Would lodge you safe within his Sacred Arms , Where scarce his Scepter feels more pleasing Charms , Oh! could we raise our groveling Souls to Thee , Fill'd with a smooth Majestick Harmony ! For to a Crown that Monarch of Delight , Virtue like Thine Victorious takes her Flight . But cease my Muse , in wishes speak the rest , Whilst with two God-like Souls our Albion's blest . Vivat Rex Carolus , & Caroli Frater .

A Farewel to His Royal Highness James Duke of York , on his Voyage to Scotland , October 20. 1680. GO , Best in all that 's good . We cannot bear The Radiant Lustre of thy Virtues here : Owls hate the Sun , Dark Deeds abhor the Light , Ills appear worse still by their Opposite . Obey thy Heavenly in thy Earthly King , Confound thine Enemies by Suffering ; O'recome by Good , Let Furious Factions see , Thine 's Peace , when their Religion's Cruelty . Go Prince , Couragious Prince , Our Champion may Great Britains Guardian Angel lead thy way ; May the cold Hemisphere Thou go'st to Grace , Receive new warmth and vigour from thy Face : May all that 's Happy thy Companion be , Till Heaven bring Thee to Us , or Us to Thee . Go Prince , Great Britain's Genius with his Train , Guard thee to Scotland , Bring Thee safe again ; That ( like Great Constantine ) Thy glorious days , May Crown thy Sufferings with Immortal Bays . And as His Zeal , the mis-led World did bring , To Love and Honour their Celestial King ; So may thy Zeal move this misguided Nation , To follow Thee in Loyal Reputation , In being Just , and Faithful to their King ; And all with one accord aloud shall Sing , Long live Great Charles our Nations Joy , And all Men sing , Vive Le Roy.

The DUKE's Welcom from Scotland to London . ART come , Sweet Prince ? Wil t' once more daign to chear With Thy Bright Beams our drooping Hemisphere ? Can nothing check thy Love , suppress thy Flame ? Still England's Guardian Angel ? Still the same ? Redoubled wrongs on Thee , the Crown , and State , Can only move Thy Pity , not Thy Hate ; Who Good for Evil dost Retaliate . Thy tender Heart , and soft-loves conquer'd Will Plead this , ( though bad ) This is thy Country still . Relaps'd into Her former Agony , Gasping Britannia seeks relief from Thee . Scotland that once contagious Vip'rous Land , Doth now our Envy and Example stand ; Charm'd by thy prudent Head , and gentle hand . Under his Vine each chearful Swain doth sit , The Serpent's crush'd that once demolish'd it ▪ Where Hemlock , Wormwood , Tares and Weeds , did grow , Now in full plenty Milk & Honey flow . Thrice Happy Land● May our invenom'd Sense With Treasons , Poyson , feel the Influence Of this all-healing Planet ; May we see All Hearts and Hands conjoyn'd in Loyalty . May all Associating Traitors know , Divinity dwells on a Soveraign Brow . May those ungrateful Wretches who Contemn Mercy , find Justice in the Diadem . Great York , in all things Great ; Great in Renown ; Great in Succession's Right to Englands Crown ; Great in thy Conduct ; Great in Peace and War ; Great in thy Birth ; In Virtue Greater far . But above all , Great in this Mighty thing , In thy firm Love and Duty to the KING . Welcom Sweet Prince , Let sober Healths go round , And all ( but Regicides ) thy Praise resound .

An Heroick Poem on Her Highness the Lady ANN's Voyage into Scotland : With a little Digression upon the Times . INgrateful England , curst to that Degre , Fam'd for Rebellion and Inconstancy ; All thy Possessions and Enjoyments spring From Monarch's Cares , yet thou 'lt obey no King ; To whose vain Humour Nothing is Delight , Nor Rain nor Sun-shine e'er can happen right ; False and unworthy to obtain alone The greatest Blessing of the mildest Throne ; Yet , being richer than I can express , Art justly punisht with Unhappiness ; What thou art envy'd for , and all adore , Thou throw'st away , and to thy self art poor , And like the Miser that abounds in Bags , Wallow'st in Wealth , yet lov'st to go in Rags . The stubborn Jews their Monarchs still ador'd , They begg'd a King , and then obey'd their Lord ; But stiff-Neck'd England , just from Slavery sav'd , Forgets , and longs again to be enslav'd . Can Rebels ever be with Scepters aw'd , Rebels that once did sacrifice their God . True Heirs in Malice to the Fiends of Hell , which first they practic'd when from heav'n they fell , And ever since taught Traytors to rebel . And now lest they should fail to reach him there , They stab him in his own Vice-gerent here ; For tho' they do it through a Monarchs Name , The Majesty of Heaven is still their Aim : Is it thy Nature or thy Planet's spite , Still to what 's present to be opposite ? Wretched be then with vain Mistrust and Fear , Banisht the sight of the most God-like Pair , And the bright Daughter of his Highness here ; The Winds and Seas will far more faithful be , And Rocks and Quick-sands teach Men Loyalty . Old Albany they now alone shall grace , Scotland , whence sprung th' Imperial Stewarts Race ; Scotland that boasts a mighty Duke , and Name Further than Parthia great Arsaces Fame . PRepare you Heavens , disclose your brightest Ray , All Day your Marble , Night your Milkie Way ; Vrania comes , the Goddess of our Isle , Vrania , that makes every Creature Smile : All they were born for , and can wish for here , Is but to bless her , and be blest by Her . Ten thousand Cupids guard her as she rides , And of her golden Bark surround the sides ; Whilst Others fly aloft with Songs , and strow Such Flow'rs as on the Beds of Eden grow ; For want of winds , with wings supply soft gales , And with gay Plumes deck all her Virgin Sails : Ye frightful Storms retreat into your Cave , Nor leave the Ocean wrinkl'd with a wave ; There , whilst she Sails , intomb●d in ●ollow Earth , Lie fetter'd close , and gro●● for want of Birth ; And Heav'n and Seas strive to be most serene , The Azure Blew , with the smooth glassy Green . You Sea-Gods and you Nymphs prepare to try Your skills , and with a Mask delight her Eye . First , let the Sun send forth such kindly Heats , As Winter's shine , or Summer when it sets ; No Icy , Cloudy , nor no Soultry Day , But all like Morning , and those Mornings May : Then gentle Zephyr unlock all thy store , And send soft Breezes from the Western Shore ; Such as Arabia ●elix has refin'd With Trees of Spice fanning the precious wind ; But just so much as she in State may glide ; And safe in her Neptunian Chariot ride : Then thou Green God shalt wait on her above , As on Jove's Daughter , and the Queen of Love . Let thy shrill Trumpeters , the Tritons , blow ; And summon all the watry Pow'rs below ; The Nayades , and Nereids to appear , Let all the Subjects of the Flood draw near : Fair Cytheraea and her Waiters Call , And Sea Nymphs , to adorn this Ocean's Ball ; Then let the lovely Mermaids come in Place , Each Mermaid that so doats upon her Face ? Till they shall see how far above their own Vrania's is , and throw their Classes down . The lesser Fry in Shoals before shall run , Like Clouds of Insects gather'd by the Sun ; And nimble Dolphins wantonly shall play , And hunt the Plain , like Spanniels in her way . Next , let the great Leviathans resort , And not forget ●o make the Princess Sport ; But at a harmless distance head the Train , And from their mighty Engines spout forth 〈◊〉 Thus in such awful Manner let it be , That wondring Angels may look down to see , And make the Show more full of Majesty . Thou Nereus , do this mighty Task with Care ; As much as was in Noah's Ark , is here : For since that Patrierch , when the world was drown'd , The like was never in one Vessel found . Her little Yatch and Squadron , as they ride , Swell to a Fleet and Admiral , with Pride , Lift up their Flags , like Piramids , on high , And with their Rain-bow Colours brave the sky : Th' Egyptian Gallies were not half so proud , When Cleopatra was o'er Nilus row'd . Thus gentle Neptune guard her o'er your Sea , From faithless Albion to glad Albany ; Commit her safely to the longing Shore , To her first Father's , ancient Fergus Tower , There , as in Heav'n , her wishes to obtain , Till she return , and thou art blest again .

Islington WATERS . EArly ( by Four ) on Friday Morn , Ere Phebus did the Skies adorn ; I started up from where I lay , And look'd what Weather 't was that day : It prov'd Serene , it prov'd all Clear , No sullen Foggs obscured the Air , In haste my Cloaths I hurry'd on , Intending streight for Islington ; My Stomach first with Mugg of Stout I brib'd , to skreen the Vapours out : With Fringe and Sword , then jogging went , T' observe , not drink , was my Intent , For faith I 've us'd this Paunch of mine , So long to Noble Claret Wine , In troth I dreaded the Events , 'Twixt two such differing Elements , For should they fight , by Jove , I fear Each other to outrival there , In the Hot and rumbling Fray , My feeble Soul wou'd sneak away , Now to the ready Road I draw , And Troops of flocking fools I saw , One Gang in Chief observing there , To them apace I hasted near , In Plush a Doctor then espy'd , A long Goun Priest did hand his Bride , Th' Apothecary big and fat , With Neighbour Cit held serious Chat , Streight I draw up that trodden way , And walk and hearken all they say . Good Sir , says Cit , what do you think Of this new Metaphysick Drink ? ( Then stopt could hold no longer out , With that prodigious Phrase ev'n choakt ; ) The Doctor pausing nothing said , But looking Grave hung down his Head , And walking thus demur a while , At length Began with leering Smile . What brooks it me an answer make ? I know you 'l censure what I speak , Impute it Intrest or Design , I thus direct this Speech of mine , For Vulgar Errours who can mend ? He seems their Foe who is their Friend ▪ Themselves the Giddy Rabble cheat , They make all Fish that comes to Net , What 's now receiving with Applause , Not minding the Effect or Cause , The brackish Water swallowing up , As if 't were Nectar in the Cup. No consequential ills they fear , It must be good cause Popular : Perhaps they 'l find altho' too late The Hugg and Wanton with their sate . As to my own Respect and Gain , I find no reason to complain , For truly I observe this thing , Since Fame in vogue the Wells did bring , My Practice doubl'd with my Fee , And if they hold , they 'l treble be , They cause such dire Mortality . This said , he stopt , and said no more , But sneering stalkt along before . Th' Apothecary in mean while Applauding , did devoutly smile , In token too of his Consent , With the Remains thus on he went . And I admire ( as th' Doctor says ) The head-strong Madness of the days , That men so wise so learn'd in sense , Are lur'd with such Impertinence ; They boast that mighty Cures are done , The Scurvy , Strangury , and Stone , Gripes and Histerick Passions too , Green Sicknesses in not a few , The Dropsy , and Obstructions all ; They 'll make 'em Epidemical ; But above all that has been said , They can retrive a Maidenhead ; Oh! wondrous Virtues ! wondrous things ! That flow from those important Springs ! Fate give 'em good success , said I , The empty'd bowls with more Supply , Since publick thus I daily pile , And heap with Bills my loaded File . I mind your drift , ( the Cit reply'd ) And Screw'd his Grinning Teeth aside : Your Interest ( faith ) I cannot blame , Were I engag'd I 'd say the same ; But Friends , observe you speak too late , Experience proves the Virtues great ; Your early Care at first was shown , By your applause you made 'em known ; In hopes the undigested Spring , To you might crowding Patients bring : Then closely did your Interest hide , Now find your selves ' o th' loosing side , And by your subtile , slighting Arts , Cou'd win from them the Peoples hearts : But ( faith ) I find wondrous ease , Since I began , it 's seven days ; The Soveraign Dose relax'd my Greif , And daily does afford Relief : That Physick here the Spring Instills , Effects more good than scores of Pills ; My Three-pence here will farther go , Than Pounds I in your Fees bestow . What needs there this Intestine stri●e , ( Returns the Learned Doctors Wife ; ) ( Love ) let 'em ungain ▪ said go on , They 'l find before the Summer 's done , Their Errour vainly was pursu'd , The Wells their Senses did delude , And by this rash unruly Trick ; We'est reap th' advantage when they 'r Sick . The Parsons Tongue began to start ; He argu'd the Defensive part , That th' Waters must unquestion'd be , In terms of High Phylosophy ; That Heav'n in Mercy had design'd , These Soveraign Springs to heal mankind . Impatient now of longer stay , I slunk in silence strait away ; And to the Waters sailing near , A harsh confused noise I hear . Two Cavalier stif● Toryes came , Each Hand on Hilt , Face on a Flame ; Damn me , says one , on Honour Draw , My Sword shall give your boldness Law ; At this I wisely stept away , Nor stay'd the Issue of the Fray : But to the flowing Pump I came , Promiscuous Crowds buzz'd round the same ; Full Bowls by turns were empty'd out , Healths to the King there bounc'd about ; They gorg'd it down like Claret-Wine , Like Florence , or like Muscadine ; From thence I closely thronged out , And ranged all the walks about ; Here Tradesman's Wife stood big with Cully , Her Daughter with a Bouncing Bully : Whilst behind all the Footmen play'd , And wanton'd with the Chamber-Maid . A Taudry Jilt as I past by , Glouted around with wishing Eye , With Breasts thrust out , and vaunting pace , With Pockey Ar — and Painted Face , With Hair in Crisp , and Fuz o' th' Brow , Scudded and jogged to and fro . A Gaudy Fop whose Pregnant store , Scarce paid his entrance at the door , Prepar'd to accost the Rutting Whore : By Heav'ns Madam how you shine , Be pleas'd t' accept a Glass of Wine : Damn me , how Happy shou'd I be , Blessed with your Charming Company . With Mouth screw'd up , and winking Eye , Just opening with a sweet reply ; Turning with speed , I tack'd about , And thrust into the Whiggish Rout , Here State affairs advanc'd the Stage , With every circumstance o' th' Age ; Some in soft Silence gave their Votes , And pitty'd suffering Titus Oates : Whilst some more solid knowing Men , Curst down the Observators Pen : And others who as wisely meant , Made Martyr'd Russel Innocent , Essex Murder'd , that Armstrong dy'd , Condemn'd unjustly , and not Try'd ; Some there in private had decreed , Who shou'd the envy'd Charles succeed . But — — Tyr'd with the stuff , I turn'd aside , And Loyal Tory Gamesters spy'd ; Then towards the lower walk I drew , An Object there my Stout — o'rethrew , And I began to Purge and Spew : Weary and Sick with nasty sight , With Cuckholds made by morning Light ; With Whores pick'd up , which Treason talk'd , With Fops who to the Waters talk'd ; With Noise , and with an Humming there , That pierc'd and Eccho'd through each Ear : I grudged then a longer stay , So bless'd my self , and came away .

Serenissimis Principibus Eboracensibus , & Albaniensibus Ducibus , ter Maximis in Angliam Reducibus Congratulator . IN●lyte post Carolum Caroli spes certa Coronae ANglienis gratus Dux Jacobe venis . COnveniant alacres Regi , Regnóque Fideles ; OMine nam fausto Dux Jacobus adest . BIs laesae Majestatis reus exulet hostis , URnaque sit studiis perfidus ipse suis . SAlva sit , & victrix stirps Regia regnet ab ortu Legitimo tutus portus , & ara suis . PRimus es à Carolo , Carolo cum Rege Secundus , REgis es unanimis Frater , & Alter Ergo. INgeminent tria Regna tuos Jacobe triumphos NEc desint titulis aurea Sceptra tuis . COnstantem post tot Terrâ , pelagóque pericla ELigat in summum Rex ad utrumque Ducem . PRincipe te felix laetetur Wallia , & illum SUmmo in Concilio dent tibi Regna locum . VIve igitur Felix Carolo cum Fratre , triumphis INsultent mundo Frater uterque suis . VIvat utérque diù sibi causa salutis utrimque ANglia ter Felix sit sub utroque diu . T , Er Felix quia te benè cepit Scotia , Anglia quod recipit laetaque Ierna cupit . MArtia lugubrem depone , Britannia , vultum , A Nglia laetitiae jactet ad Astra sonos . REgia namque Maria domum revocata quietem , INque utero Regem fert benè grata tibi . A Nglia pro dono tali redamato Mariam ; Oblita est culpam namque Benigna tuam . BEllonae è Regno Studium , rixásque Beatrix EXpellit vultu , quo beat Astra , suo , AForma micat illa Venus , de Nunmine Juno , TAntaque ab ingenio , Pallas ut illa suo , est . REvera , ut nomen notat , & virtute Beatrix , INclyta quae meritis haec tria Regna beat . XAntus erit Thamesis , tenebrae lux , docta priusquam Musa queat meritis dicere digna tuis . ADventum tamen illa tuum gratatur , & ipso NOmine , quod redamat , facta Beata tuo est . NObilibus decus , & plebi solamen , utrisque ANNA ades à meritis Gloria , & altus Honos . INvictis Isabella animis adversa repulsit , SAnctaque in exilio robora mentis habet . ANgelico vultu , rebúsque Isabella secundis BElla oculis , gestu , fonte modesta manet . ERgo per Maria , & terras exempla Beatrix LEge sua cunctis Anna Isaballa dedit . LEx benè vivendi tua vita est : Irruat ergo A , Nglia in applausus Scotia , Ierna tuos .

ANNA tibi tribuit Divinar Gratia dotes NAtura vires exsuperante suas . NAtura altercans , & gratia dimicat ; Annam AMbae namque suam concupiere Deam . INter utramque Micas Virgo nitidissimà Princeps NAtura , & supplex gratia facta tibi est . FOrma tua est elegans , facies pulcherima , mensque ALma , quibus gaudent Juno Minerva , Venus . NEc sine Germana remanes , tibi namque Maria est TAlibus à meritis , & pietate soror . ANatu , specie , vultu , Virtute Coronas Utraque ab Ingenio , consilióque merent . A Nnglia tollè animos , & jam tua commoda tandem NOscito Principibus facta Beata tuis . GGratia Magna tibi est Carolus mitissimus , illi LArga est in Bello , Pacéque cura tui . INque Piis Regina tibi , Virtutibus omne AEQuum de meritis námque Coronat Opus .

Ad Utramque ANNAM . Everti nequit , Anna tum nitidissima nomen Semper idem inversum nomen utante manet : Maxima sic virtus semper tua five secundis Adversisve manet rebus ut ante fuit . Prima Ducem sequitur mira pietate Maritum Exilio constans altera & Anna Patrem Una tribus pietas causa est longinqua petendi , Exulis O Pietas ! O Reducésque Pios ! In Regem Pietas bene nota est Principis : Ergo Principis exilii causa fuisse pium est . Regiarum Vestrarum Celsitudinum , Celsitudinum , Humilimus Servus , A. S.

A Pindorique Ode , upon the late Horri● and Damnable Whiggish Plot. I. DIssentiug Bigots , boast no more , Of Glorious Mischiefs heretofore ; Not all the Troops your Godly Factions led , Bradshaw and Cromwel in their Head , Can vie single Shaftsbury For secure Arts of close-laid Villany ; They but the empty Types , the weighty substance He. 'T is true these two great Leaders carry'd on Their bold Designs till Life was done ; But when the Vip'rous pair was crush'd , the Wound They living made , clos'd and again was sound ; Whilst he , like Serpents of more Pois'nous kind , Where e're he oncehis fork'd Tongue applies , Though in the Fatal Act he dies , Still leaves his Venom and his Sting behind . II. M—th and Fssex both were Stung , And many more by his Envenom'd Tongue ; And strait they all began to swell , From Sense and Reason strait they Fell ; And Melancholly Fumes possess'd their Brain , And they wou'd all be Kings , and all wou'd Raign , Hence their disorder'd passion springs , And spitting Venom on the best of Kings ; Hence their attempts upon his Life & Throne ; Hence all their secret Mysteries Of undermining Treacheries , And hidden Veins of Treasons yet unknown . But Thou , Great Charles , despise their vain Designs ; The Vnicorn , Supporter of thy Arms , 'Gainst all their Poison bears sufficient Charms ; And a much greater Pow'r blows up their deepest Mines . III. Methinks the dark Cabal of Six I see , Double Triumvirate of Villany ; Exceeding that which went before In number much , in Mischief more : Caesar's Adopted Son does first appear ; Art thou , ( my Brutus ) there ? Thou that wert once so Great and Good ; From the high place wherein you justly stood , How art thou fallen , O Lucifer ? He once ( like you , ) was Fair and Bright , Chief Leader of the Glorious Hosts of Light ; But long ( alas ! ) he cou'd not bear To see above him plac'd th' Eternal Kings Immediate Heir , He scorn'd Subjection , for a Kingdom fell ; But gain'd Eternal Slavery and Hell : Thus while from Good to Ill they Headlong tend ; The brightest Angel makes the blackest Fiend IV. Next Essex , once deservedly Great , Though since the Scorn and Mockery of Fate ; Essex whose late Successful sway Made Ireland Peaceably obey ; And follow'd well Great Ormond's Track , who led him all the way , His Fathers Bright Example long prevail'd , And that most Precious Legacy He left to him of Loyalty ; ( So the declining Sun , when chas'd by coming Night , Still guilds the World a while with the remains of Light : ) But when that Hell and Shaftsbury assail'd , His Noble Resolutions quickly fail'd , And all his former Virtues nought avail'd , Addresses and Petitions first , ( For who can fall at once from good to worst ? ) Began the Game : and aiming to Betray , ( Like Judas , All Hail Master , led the way . Unhappy man ! who carry'd on Too sadly the Comparison ! Tortur'd like him by his Despair , Like Him , he was his own sad Executioner . V. Russel and Escrick next in order were ; Nor did I much admire to see Them there : Happy the latter of the two , who since Has wash'd away his Faults in Humble penitence ; And by a true Confession Of others Treason and his own , With his most Gracious Prince may for the last Atone . I wave the former , since he justly dy'd , And by his Death has satisfy'd : But he has to himself been more unkind ; And his own Libel left behind . Next Sydney comes ; a Name In brave Sir Philip known to Fame For Perfect Wit and Loyalty : Though now by Algernoon mark'd with so black a Dye As does almost Eclipse the Fame of his Great Ancestry . Hambden the last ; the worthy Son Of him well known in Forty One : Grand Patron of the Canting Tribe , How shall I thee Describe ? None can draw thee according to thy due , But he that has the knack to Hang and Quarter too . VI. These , and a num'rous Train of many more , Their dark Designs did secretly contrive ; Till Keeling who did long Connive , To sound their depth , and number all their store , Broke forth , & shone like Gold a midst the Ore . Against his Conscience nothing cou'd prevail ; Not Life and Int'rest in the other Scale : All other by-concerns he laid aside ; And fix'd his mind with Noble Pride Upon a Name so Good and Great , As sole Preserver of the Church and State . What Thanks for such Obligement shall we bring ? Our Fortune and our Lives we owe For what you did on us bestow ; What then for our Religion , and our King ? Take first our Hearts ; while we can only Pray , God and his great Vice-gerent will repay . VII . And now the Horrid Plot appears , Writ in the blackest Characters ; And ev'ry Page some Bloody Title bears , Seditions , Treasons , Massacres . What in a King so Good , what cou'd they see , To Arm that numerous Conspiracy Against so mild a Majesty ; Which like the Sun , its beams does wear Not to Consume , but Warm and Cheer ? Blest Prince ! and canst Thou still Dispence To this unthankful Land thy Gracious Influence , Still canst Thou shed thy Favours upon those That are the near Relations of thy Foes ? Brave Capel and Southampton on this Hand , Essex and Russel on the other stand ; He turn'd from these , and fix'd his Princely view Upon the Nobler Object of the two ; And as he look'd , on all their Friends his willing Favours threw . Let Russel's Wife ( said he ) unpitty'd go ; But shall Southamptons Daughter fall so low ? Essex his Son shou'd want , 't is true , But what shall then Brave Capel's Grand-son do In his Indulgent Memory , So long great Virtues live , so soon Offences dye VIII . Yet him , thus justly fam'd for mildness of His Reign The Bloody Faction dooms to dye ; And to Enhance their Cruelty , Wou'd in his Royal Brother Murder him again ; His Royal Brother , who had always bin A Partner of the Troubles He was in ; Of all his dangers bore a share , And still with him Joynt-Sufferer : Ev'n him their Hellish rage Assails ; The Hercules , that when our Atlas fails , Must with his Shoulders prop the sinking state , And beat unmov'd the mighty weight . With them the Loyal , all the Good and Great Must meet an unrelenting Fate ; For those by strong Antipathy they hate . IX . Nor can the Church escape this Cursed Band : What once was to the worst a Sanctuary , Can to its self no refuge be ; That with the State does always fall or stand : And may both stand till Time it self has end ; And still each other mutually defend : For whilst with open Force , or secret Hate , The two extreams assault the State ; The English Church keeps on her steady pace , Fix'd in the middle , Virtues place ; Nor e're Rebell'd against the Throne , Under whose Gracious shade 't was planted , and has grown . But as the Ivy , with whose Verdant Boughs Her Learned Sons may justly wreath their Bows Does round the Elm its loving Branches twine ; And when the Axe its kind support assails , That also feels the Stroke , and with it fails : So while the Church and State their strict Embraces joyn ; The same rude Blow , that over-turns the Crown , Strikes its lov'd Partner too , & hews her down . X. Ah! wretched England ! how art Thou , The Worlds late Envy , made its Laughter now ? Is' t not enough , that Forreign Foes Disturb thy quiet , and thy Peace oppose ? But must thy Children , like young Vipers , tear The womb which did them bear ? Hast thou so few abroad , that Thou must be Thy own most dreadful Enemy ? At length Unhappy Land thy Errours view ; And give to Caesar , and to God their due ; Leave Factious Arts , nor let so stale a Cheat Twice in one Age impose upon the State : Murmur no more , when you shou'd Thanks repay ; And value Mercies , least they fly away : For they who spurn at God , deserve to suffer worse ; And Blessings , ( when abus'd , ) oft turn into a Curse .

A Pindarique Ode , upon His Majesties Review of His Forces at Putney-Heath . I. THou more than happy Plain , Thus honour'd with this Glorious Train , The Awful Monarch of Blest Albion's Isle , With all His Martial Pomp around Thus Circled , and thus more than Crown'd ; A Sight would make even wither'd Autumn And the proud Thames in passing by smile ; Th' August Solemnity , With a slow Ebb his Rowling waves convey Down to their Mother SEA , To pay their Humbler Homage to th' Ador'd Great Charles the Sea Dread Sovereign Lord . Imperial CAESAR here Does no Associating Senates fear . These Loyal Walls of Steel untainted stand Whilst faithless Capitols with Royal Gore , Schism , Sacriledge , and Treason blotted o're , Eternal Shame and Deathless Infamy shall brand . No more are our Battalions led By an ungrateful Brutus in their Head . Th' avenging Deity from that high Sphere Has thrown the falling Lucifer : And the Great Heir of that Immortal Man , Monk , who our Sun's bright Phosphor , first began To mend the broken Wheels , and set the vast Machine Of Monarchy a moving once again , Now wields the Royal Sword , To Guard that Majesty's Renown'd Sire restor'd . II. Let the Old Roman Triumphs boast no more , Their Costly Pomp of Yore . What were their Golden Chariots ? What Those Shining Scenes of State ? Or'e Vassals Heads They only Rode : O're Prostrate Hearts we 'll Mount our Driving GOD. Whilst Heccatombs of offer'd Souls shall come , With one Rich Incense , One Persume ; Till Towring to the Sky , The Universal Great Oblation fly ; The Roman Eagles all Out-soar'd , Outvy'd Their Pageants , all their gilded Pride , A Trajan Column or Egyptian Pyramide ; Poor Piles of Earth , and Monuments of Clay , Far , far beneath the Rites we Pay : When our united Shouts , Vows , Prayers , all Circling round his Head , Their more then Coronation Drops shall Shed : Whilst the Victorious Charles shall March Under that Brightest , Greatest , most Divine Triumphal Arch. III. And Sacred Charles to Crown this Glorious Day , Loud let Thy Canons roar , so Bright thy Bannors play ; And hold thy Glittering Brandish't Sword so High . Till Treasons Awed and Silenced lye ; Till Bursting Envy dye . Till the Dread Sight alone Has that intire , and Bloodless Conquest won , Shall make the Hissing Tongues of Murmur All husht into a Calm , and Dazled into Peace . Thus Conquering , thy Halcyon Reign shall be But one Long Jubilee . Whilst Thou our Dearer , Greater Jove , The Greater , tho' less Thundering Name , Thy Lightning all but Lambent Flame , Crown'd with Miraculous Mercy Sits above , And all Beneath Thee LOVE . Mercy more Wondrous far Then thy own Native Noon-day STAR . A Mercy so prodigious as t' excel All but thy RESTAURATION Miracle . Mercy that even Heavens hardest Toyl FANATICISM shall reconcile : Soften th' invet'rate Hate of Church and Crown , And all the Iron Hearts melt down . Mercy and Charles all this Stupendious work shall do ; Nay move without a Pang the Mighty Labour through . IV. But whil'st this Faithful Band 's unshaken Loyalty For Charles dares Fight , and for Him dye ; 'T is as the GODS Devotion treats With precious Odours ; all no more Than Heaps from their own Store : The Gums which their own Sun creates . 'T is all but a Creation of thy own , Whil'st Charles is his own Guard alone , Inspires that Loyalty protects his Throne . Nor is alone this Loyal Host , Th' Auxiliary thy Cause can boast . For let 'em cover all the spacious Plain , Nay add ten Thousands more to fill the Gloririous Train : Great Charles , not half thy Guards are here ; Heavens kindest Angels in that List appear , They lead the Mighty Van , and These bring up the Rear .

The Melancholly Complaint of Doctor TITUS OATES . WHat could a curst ungrateful Age do more , Impostor-like , to punish him so sore , Whom for a Saviour , they ador'd before . I was the man , Oh! cruel change of Fate : Once , the Pillar of the sinking State , Am now become the very Jayl-birds hate , Out of a pallace , into a Dungeon thrust , From six good Dishes , to snap at one brown Crust , By God and man like Cain , mark't out and curst . Is this the end of all my promis'd Joys , I that once made such bussle , and such Noise , Puft up with Triumphs of the shouting Boys . With what applause was I receiv'd by th' Rabble When I gave hopes for to re-build their Babel ; But now they 'l hang me , 'cause I was not able . With watring Chops , I call to mind the cheer , That oft I made with many a Noble Peer , Now in good time may snack the Basket here . I do remember too how tumbling Pence Came rowling in when I did first commence Master of th' Art , and Doctor Evidence , For want of which I never shall get hence . 'T is strange , that Bolts , and Bars , and Iron Grates , The just reward of perjur'd Rogues , and Cheats , Should prove the Praemimum of my Glorious feats , Ungrateful Slaves ! What! have ye quite forgot How for your sakes strange Kingdoms I did trot , Brought nothing but th' wonder of my Plot ; Though many shifts abroad I have been put too Scarce able to provide for Back and Gut too , And often-times was forc'd to pad a foot too , Nay , many times I 've lain all day in Bed , Because abroad I durst not shew my head But when 't grew dark , stole out to beg my bread What I have suffer'd for the Kingdom 's sake , In wants and dangers what I did partake , And now to fear the Gibbet or the Stake , Brethren , 't will cause your tender hearts to ake . I curst my Country , and deny'd , my Credo , And for the Nations good , turn'd Renegado , Receiv'd Cruel Whitebread's Bastinado , I worship't Idols that were false I knew ; And when I 'd done , swore they were Gods most true ; And play'd the Devil for the sakes of you ; I pray'd to Saints , in time of need , with cryes , Till they had granted my necessities , My Almes obtain'd their Saint-ships I 'd despise ; I chang'd Religion , often as my Name , Spew'd out and hated whatso'ere I came , Haunted by th' Devil , Beggary and shame , Through the wild Sects , and Tribes , I made a Ramble And to them all did lye , swear , and dissemble , Enough to make the very Devils tremble , Thus by me were the silly Jesuits sham'd ; When as with tears I swore I should be damn'd If not receiv'd into their Holy Band. I made them think Religion was the Tye , That did engage me when I came to Spye , Since 't is well known , the Devil a bit had I. I made his Holiness believe , the Pope , That in his Pardons I conceived such hope , That for his cause , I 'd suffer Fire or Rope ; But when I 'd got my foot out of his door , I Rail'd , and call'd him Babylonian Whore , And many Horrid things against him swore ; For why ? I ne're yet valued Faith or Troth . Or ever made more scruple of an Oath , Then of a blast of breath to cool my Broth. I quickly kill'd the worm , within that gnaws , And made the Gospel , Prophets , and the Laws , Come truckle Brethren , to your good Old Cause ; I laught at all Religion , and its Baubles ; Such as Evangelists and holy Tables ; Esteeming them no more then Aesops Fables ; Like merry Lucian , look'd on 't as a Tale ; A dull insipid thing , grown Old and Stale , Serves me to joak on o're a pot of Ale ; I scost't & scorn'd , but ne're would cringe or bow To those grave fools that do such tales allow , And would have judg'd them to the Cart or Plow That with you I might gain repute and fame , I laught at Conscience as a Bug-bear name ; And shook off quite all modesty and shame , In hopes once more you 'd come to rule the Roast , I made my self Knight-errant of the Post ; Of which I take the vanity to boast ; For good of Commonwealth without repine , I franckly Dedicated me , and mine , Contemning Laws , both humane , and divine ; Vast Sums I in the publick service spent ? Much Money to the needy Jesuite Lent , When at that time , I 'd neither Land nor Rent ; The corresponding Charges I did own , When to the Lords my just accounts were shown Besides some By-ones more than e're were known The many painful journeys , to and fro , Embassador 'twixt Devil , and Turk to go , To all the World my vast Expences show ; Besides for Flying-Horses which would scour , To France or Spain , and back in half an hour , With Old Nicks Fees for granting me this power I morgag'd all my Heritage and Lands , To purchase from the Roman General 's hands Commissions for my new rais'd secret Bands ; But Oh! the Devil poor man was ne're so crost When God knows what those Roman Bulls had cost , Lo ! suddenly they vanisht , and were lost , To Mulciber for strange and curious Arms , Made with such cunning magick spells , & charms , To fright and fear , and do no further harms ; Procuring of rich Cordials for the King , The which I judg'd , the safest and surest thing , Him to his bed , of longest rest to bring ; For Blunderbuss , or Cross-bow , I count nought Because for secret services they were bought ; Besides , were not well manag'd as they ought ; At many other charges I have been , For preservation of the Duke and Queen , And swearing things were never heard nor seen ; For Doctor-shipand Salamanca Fees ; Where Pistoles flew away as thick as Bees ; Pox on their University degrees , For Ancient Books , that I in Aegypt bought , From the fam'd Ptolemaeus Study brought No Gypsie gibberish ones , as some have thought I bought in Spain , the wity Guzman's works , The Holy League 'twixt Teckley , and the Turks With Matchiavel's , state-niceties and querks , All this , and more , I freely did disburse , For th' Nations good out of my privy purse And never thought my self a groat the worse . But this is nothing to a thousand more , Good services , that I have still in store , Such as the Devil himself , ne're did before . The many famous deeds that I have done , Since I the Kingdoms mighty work begun , Have made Ketch half as rich as squire Dun ; What Tongue can tell with how much cunning Art I did contrive my Plot in every part , Of which the Tories should have felt the smart . For whom I list , of It I could accuse , If to compound with me they did refuse , I swore good Christians to be Turks and Jews : The Jesuits I set like any Spanniel , To do their Work I had a ready Pannel . That scarce would give them time to buy them Flannel I watch'd for Priests , as Cat doth watch for Mouse At midnight , Low-belling from house to house , Though here each night I 'm forc'd to hunt for Louse . I rail'd at th' Privy Council , and at Scrogs , And call'd them damn'd confounded Popish dogs , 'Cause they 'd not hang all those which I call'd Rogues . Those were my golden days , my days of Power , When Great ones fear'd me , when I sent each hour At least a score to Newgate , and the Tower ; I made them tremble at my very word , Which did the work as sure as any Sword , Though now 't is no more valued than a T — Then was I stout , as I St. George had been , At th' Commons Bar to stick I ne'r was seen Of Treason to accuse Lord , Duke or Queen , No man durst thwart me , with desire of pelf , I rag'd and grew to such a peevish Elf , Had the King vext me , I had peacht Himself ; For at that time I 'd brought things to such a pass , In open Court , I 'd bid 'em kiss my A — But now the times are chang'd Alas ! Alas ! I was by most Sir Reverenc'd and respected From Popish Treasons by my Guards protected , Tho now like Rogue I 'm sligted and neglected . Each word that from my sacred lips then fell , Received were as holy Oracle , Tho' now they say 't was all the craft of Hell . I Rul'd and Reign'd in mighty pomp and state , Whilst in the House my Lords and Masters sate , I furnish'd them with business of debate . 'T was prety in those days good faith to see Your Popishly affected Lords with Fee , And Cap in hand come sneaking after me . They fear'd my very menaces and frown , Dreaded my anger more than of the Crown , For I could pull their lofty Stomachs down . I was the Tories Plague , their Iron Rod , I huft the Bishops , on their Miters trod , Swore what I list , fear'd neither Man nor God . Just as I pleas'd , State-matters I 'd dispose , Found the Kings Friends to be the Kingdoms Foes ; To smell out Traytors none had such a Nose . I pointed out Men-worthy , Wise , and Just , Whom I thought fit for Offices of Trust , And told the King those were the men he must Advance , and those great Officers of State , Well known against their good or evil fate Depended much on my politick Pate ; For those that did not Romanists annoy , And their Adherents hated more destroy , I thought it fit their places to enjoy ; But by Adherents , would you know what 's meant For 't is a word of very large extent , All those whom we thought fit to circumvent . I did advise the Kingdom to disgrace The next Successor of the Royal Race , And to exalt a Bastard in his place . The King I Councel'd into better hands , To the Navy and the trained Bands , Content himself to live on his Crown-lands , T'leave Popish Councils , follow better courses , Turn out his Guards , those Mercinary Forces , Live privately , and keep a brace of Horses , His Guards did terrifie good peaceful men , He might go live , and trust himself with them , As safe as Daniel in the Lyons Den ; I did commend him to the Commons care , Wisht him t' obey , by whispering in his Ear , The disobedience of his Father dear . If he 'd be wise , and rul'd by them no doubt , And turn his old and wealthy minions out , Soon all his business , would be brought about ; They'd give him money , or what else he pleas'd , When he his Subjects of their Yoke had eas'd , And every squeamish Conscience was appeas'd . I always pray'd for the Parliaments sitting , And that too as long as their Worships thought fitting , Because when they met , they minded their knitting . For had they sat on I was in fair hopes To have got an Estate by cutting of Throats , But now I shall never be worth Ten Groats . For I deserv'd the Mannor of Bobbing , For Plarliament business and other jobbing , As well as a Thief a Halter for Robbing . The next good service that I did the Crown , Was to possess the Country and the Town , They'd ne're be safe till Monarchy came down . That Monarchy unjustly still bereaves Of Liberty , and makes poor Subjects Slaves , And is upheld by prating Fools and Knaves : To prove it by example , I did chuse Some Stories of the old Rebellious Jews , With some late Manuscripts of Doctor Hugh's . For in those days when Israel had no King , Without controll , men might do any thing , Live merily , and go t' Heaven in a String . I oft did from the lofty Pulpit ball , And ( not obscurely ) hinted to them All , To trust not much , some Great Ones at White-Hall . I told Designs were hatching many years , On both sides whisper'd Jealousies and Fears , In hopes they 'd fall together by the Ears : I rais'd up Storms and Tempests in the State , That threatn'd all the Ship with dreadful Fate , In hopes I should be Chosen Master's Mate , For why , my Skill in Plotting was ev'n such , That I had learn'd of the Neighbouring Dutch , That at the choice the Saylors would not grutch ▪ By their own Compass I my course would steer From Popish Shoals , and Sands , still keeping clear , Nor lofty Rocks of Tyrany come near . But Oh! the Fates ! the Tempest was descry'd , The jealous Master all the matter spy'd , And I was in the Hold fast bound and ty'd . I had a Post each moment sent from Hell , A nimble Spark , that new my Genius well , With express Orders purposely to tell , And teach me every thing that 's done above , Or underneath the mighty Throne of Jove , And all his pains was purely for my love . For by this means I knew of things to come , As well as what in elder times was done ; And by it all my former Credit won . For in those days who was so great as I ? Or could so soon strange Mysteries espy ? 'T was almost death to give me but the Lye . I told the Parliament , how that the Queen After the murder'd Justice She had seen , Made a low Courtesie to Hill , and Green . And thankt , them kindly for the pains they 'd ta'en . I saw the Duke ; in Parliament I swore , I did believe through sixteen Doors , and more , Communicating with the Roman Whore . I call'd him stubborn Rogue , that ne're would bend , And told them plainly he was not their Friend , Therefore advis'd them to contrive his end . I workt it so , for all his great Commands , I made him glad to scape out of their hands , By shifting for himself in foreign Lands . I rav'd and went on , and was 't not prety To accuse the King in the secret Committee , And jeer him at Clubbs and Cabals i' th' City . I wonder'd how brave English Heroes cou'd Be Rul'd and Govern'd by the Scottish Blood , Such Servitude I ne're esteemed good . Therefore their indignation to appease , If that they 'd issue forth a Writ of Ease , I 'd serve't on Him when their Honours please . I taught the people that since Babel-Tower , From them alone Kings did derive their power , Whom if they pleas'd they might change every hour . From Club to Club made drunk where e're I came , I loudly rail'd against the STVARTS Name , And did their Fathers Persecutions blame . I made Dissenting Saints believe that He Design'd t' ensnare their Souls and Liberty , And on Him sham'd the Irish Massacre . I prais'd old Noll the Armies Bully-Rock , With those good men that brought Him to the Block , Him above all that gave the fatal knock : I curst the Fates of that unlucky day Wherein Old Rowley strangely slipt away , And would not for his Friends at Worcester stay . I wisht the Devil might th' Popish Traytor choak That hid Him from us in the rotten Oak , Which is as true a word as e're I spoke : A sneaking Dog whose conscience was so nice , A Thousand pounds would not the Thiefentice , I would have don 't for half the money , twice . With grief I celebrate that Feast in May Which Tories call their great Thanksgiving day , As for a Judgment then I fast and pray . These are the Services I 've done the Nation As a fore-runner of new Resormation And to make way for the Association , For which I should to great preferment rise , Rewarded and advanc'd above the Skies By th' keepers of the English Liberties . This to be true , Time would have prov'd my words , Better then Bar of Commons , or of Lords , By the fair Tryal of your Pikes and Swords , For as Reformers must , I 've wrought some wonders , Which should have been confirm'd by Warlik● Thunde● ▪ Made out by 〈◊〉 , Sacriledge , and Plund●● ▪ With Roman Bulls , Black-bills , and Smithfied Spits , I frighted three Kingdoms out of their Wits , And made them fall into Convulsion-fits . I made them on a sudden fly to Prayer , For fear of Mountains falling from the Air , Which made some soft Pates , of their Brains dispair . Some choose to die by true Protestant Ropes , And some for fear of Papists , cut their Throats , For which they were beholding unto Oales ; Whilst others frighted with the hideous cries Of Fairy Armies fighting in the Skies , By gazing up , lost both their Heads and Eyes . Some thought the Island was just running round , No steady place of sooting to be found , For fear they run away and left the ground . That Roman Canibals in furious mood , Were coming to destroy th' Protestants brood , And eat them all at once for want of food . No man could 〈◊〉 on Pillow lay down's head , As in full Senate learnedly One said , Least he might ●ise with● Throat cut in 's Bed ; For as we are told by a deceased Squire In 's Narratives of Massacres and Fire How narrowly we scap'd the Papists Ire : That they had made the great Vesuvian Hills Into Fire-balls as small as Doctors Pills . And secretly convey'd them o're in Quills : The Trayt'rous Jesuits , and their cursed backers , Had made mount Aetna in Squibs and Crackers To throw , & burn our Cloaths to Rags & Tatters All this was but a Tryal of my Skill , Like th' Exercise of Quixot and his Mill , I was resolv'd to do more wonders still ; I raised forty thousand of the Dead Souldiers that from their Camp last Age were fled And fed them under-ground with Ginger-bread Armies of Pilgrims I call'd out of Spain , Embarqu'd in a Nut-shell safely on the Main And in a trice convey'd them back again . I made a Prince that was of little stature , With half a word , a tall and comely Creature , My very breath chang'd him in every feature ; I rais'd up ●yges , robb'd him of his Ring , And by that means convers'd with many a King So secretly , Themselves knew not th● thing ; I beg'd of Juno , Argus's head and eyes To place abroad in Princes Courts for spyes , So that I knew of every Enterprize : I knew all mankind living on the Earth , Set private marks upon them at their Birth , Which caus'd amongst some people wondrous mirth ; Though now and then I bawkt by Candle light , Pox on my sences , and my duller sight , Could not diserna Squire from a Knight . These and a thousand other pretty pranks I 've play'd with men of all degrees and Ranks , For which I did expect some better thanks . I little thought that this sweet Face of mine , That looks so like a Reverend Grave Divine , Should come so soon thro' Iron Grates to shine . I never dreamt of such rewards as these , Whilst that I liv'd in Palaces of ease , Sporting with my prity Gammedes ▪ Nor did I think my Labours and my ●oyles Should be rewarded in the common Jayls , T would make ● Welch-man swear , Gu●s plu●●er her Nai●● . But Oh! see what the destinies have brought to pass , That folks at last should make me such an Ass , As to keep Colts with Oates instead of Gras● ▪ I thought the Nation would have paid my s●ore , For a reward have thrown me something more , But now I see I am deceiv'd full sore . As holy Mussel-men do count and write Their great Hegira from their Prophets flight , When for Rebellion he was banish'd quite . So may I date my woes from that same day , My Polish Princely Patron run away , And left his people in the mire and clay . Why did he not take me with him to dwell , When he embark'd for Holland and for Hell ▪ I ne're shall get there half so safe and well . My mind long since presages dreadful things , With tortured cryes my Ears already rings , And think each man some fatal tiding ▪ brings ▪ My Tongue that never fail'd me yet , now falters ▪ I dream of nothing but of Hemp and H●her , And frightful Visions of the Rye-house Ma●●ers . Methinks I see some of my Friends come o're , And becken to me from the Stygian Shore , All pale , and wan , and welter'd in their gore . Methinks I see each night stern vengeance stand Over my head with naked Sword in hand , Threatning Est Soons to rid me of the Land . Oft times I dream of those bald gastly Pates O' th' Bridge , and Quarters o're the City Gates , Pitying ( as 't were my own ) those poor mens fates . And then I fear , least the just Fates decree As a Reward for my Fidelity , The Doctor to adorn the Triple-Tree . But hang me Sirs , if e're you catch me there , When once I 've brought my self into the snare , In verbo Sacerdotis I 'll declare The truth of all and every thing I knew , Which will I 'm sure make many men look blew ; Though I ly'd living , dying I 'll speake true .

An account of an Apparition that appeared to TITUS OATES . SOme night last past , as I ( accursed ) lay , Tumbling and Tossing , wishing long for day ; Just fallen into a Sleep , I did Espy ( Methought ) some frightful Things approaching nye My trembling Bed : Those who at first appear'd , Were naked Men with Crimson Blood besm●a●'d , Dragging their ●owels trayling at thei● Heel , Their Breasts ript open , wanted Hearts to feel : They gently came and drew near to m● Bed , Shew'd what , & who they were , but nothing said At which I then ( though ne'● before turn'd red In every Gesture you might plainly find , A Soul compos'd , and a well order'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉 , They knew me not , their Thoughts did 〈◊〉 more Their Eyes & Thoughts were fix'd above the Sky But with true Consort each did Sing this Song , O Lord most Holy , Lord most Just , 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ? Just following them , came Two so closely joyn'd As Matrimonial Bands had e're design'd For Man and Wife , ( perhaps they so might be , ) The one drest-Man-like , t'other contrary ; The Robes he wore were of a Scarlet dye , Of Aspect Reverend , full of Gravity : In whose right Hand fast held ( methought ) I saw A Book , Intitu●ed , Govern by the Law . Her Dress as Vestal Nuns are made to wear , From Head to Foot , did purely White appear ; Whose Eyes were Cover'd with the 〈◊〉 Lawn ; In her right Hand a Naked Sword was drawn , Pointed towards me , at which I trembled more , Then at the Bleeding sight I saw before , As if she knew me , she did boldly come , Inquird for Conscience , I reply'd , from ' home ; Quoth she , How long ? I said , I cou'd not tell , She very seldom us'd with Me to dwell . Then with a Bold ( I thought commanding ) word To th' Scarlet Gown cryes , Judgment given my Lord He seem'd reserv'd , and would bu● 〈◊〉 say , Yet shook his Head , Look ▪ d 〈◊〉 , and went away , With 〈◊〉 Signs of a severer day ●● 〈◊〉〈◊〉 from that most 〈◊〉 Dream , And 〈◊〉 I 〈◊〉 upon the 〈◊〉 Theme . Alas those 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I hourly feel , Are now 〈◊〉〈◊〉 than I can reveal , 〈…〉 than ● cou'd tell , 〈…〉 Conscience is to Hell ▪ My 〈◊〉〈◊〉 , like Vipers dayly tear My 〈◊〉〈◊〉 , and I 'm all dispair : The 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was more mild than mine , He 〈…〉 of his Treacherous Crime ▪ 〈…〉 to that Cursed Els . 〈…〉 to hang Himself . But I more miserable far than He Who dare not do what none will do for me , Ungrateful Hetch where 's thy Civility ! You know that lately , might I had my Will , And Cornishes and Bethels Sheriffs still , I wou'd have sworn whilst Death had Power to Kill , And was in all Superlatively ill . For I , more fierce than all the Devils , hurl'd , And strove to turn to Chaos all the World : For which I 'm Plagu'd , and Burn with more than fire By the strict vengeance of the Almighties Ire . To Heaven I dare not look , that Glorious Throne Did evermore my Hateful Crimes disown . Th' Infernal Spirits seem to dread me too , Or envy that my Crimes did theirs out-do . Proscrib'd by all , Where wretched shall I flye ? To hide my Guilt from GOD ' s All-searching Eye — But hold , have I not read Pythagoras Faith , and what the Egyptians said Of Transmigration of the Souls of Men ▪ Into some Birds or Beasts , alas ! what then ▪ Where may I search ? for either Beast or 〈◊〉 Deserves the Plague of such a Loaded Soul What Land e●r so accurst as to produce So foul a Creature , to so foul a Use , Unless perhaps on that Vnhallow'd Ground Where my Learn'd Tutor dy'd , such may be found If that proves true , then Titus thou art blest , And ●n that hope , accursed Oates take rest ,

A Paradox against Liberty , Written by the Lords , during their Imprisonment in the Tower . A Prison , or the Isle , are much the same ; They onely differ in Conceit and Name . As Art the first , Nature Immures the last ; Onely i' th larger Mold her Figure 's cast . All Islanders are in a Prison pent , And none at large , not those o' th' Continent . Each Mariner's a Prisoner in his Bark . The living World was prison'd in the Ark. And though it be abroad a days ; the Light Still lodges in the Prison of black Night . The Sea it self , is to its bounds confin'd , And Aeolus in Caves shut up the wind : Nothing in nature has such vast Extent , But is imprison'd in its Element . The Fish in watry Dungeons are inclos'd ; Men , Beasts , and Birds , to Earth and Ayr dispos'd . If to enlarge their narrow bounds , they strive , The fatal freedom rarely they survive . And as with them , we hope with Us 't will be , When from their Prisons took , Death sets them free . Man can no more a native freedom boast ; That Jewel ne're was found , since first't was lost T was then transported to the Stygian Coast . But still there 's something which we do esteem , Onely because 't is like the polish't Gem , And this we Freecom call ; its credit grows From a false stamp , the guilded outside shows : Which a varitious Man attempts to get , Cheated and ruin'd with the Counterfeit . Like Children , Soapy-Bubbles they pursue , And the fantastick Vision , take for true ; But whilst they think bright forms they do embrace , Ixion like , they find a cloud i' th' place . Consent of Crowds exceeding credit brings , And seems to stamp Truths Image on false things , Not what 's a real good , but what does seem , Still shares the blind and popular esteem , Whilst Sense and fancy over-rule their choice , And Reason in th' Election has no voice . But Souls in vain have Reasons Attribute . If to the Rule , they cannot Sense submit . Hence the Heriock mind makes no complaint , But freedom does Enjoy , even in restraint . When Chains and Fetters do their Body bind , He then appears more free , and less confin'd . Discord and Care , which do distract him here , In durance take their leave and come not there . False Friends and Flatt'rers , then take last adieu Who often swore how faithful and how true , Things their dishonest bosoms never knew . These like the Swallows , in cold weather slye ; A Summers fortune onely draws them nigh . Flatt'rers a sort of fatal Suckers be , Which draw the Sap 'till they destroy the Tree . Fair Virtue to their Ob●icks when they bring , Seems a deform'd and antiquated thing . Vice they commend , whilst Vertue is despis'd ; The blackest by these Negroes most are pris'd . These slaves to Vice , do hug so hard and long , Till like the o'refond Ape , they kill their Young . Ambition in the Mind 's a Feverish Thirst , Which is by drinking dryer than at First ; And these will feed the humour till it burst ▪ When Parasites the Arbiter are made , They● place the Garland on a Beadlam's head . Riot , Excess , and Pleasure car' the Day , And Lust ( the worst of Tyrants ) bears the sway At whose black Throne they blind Allegiance pay . Morose ●●d 〈◊〉 they do account the Grave ; And the M●e●-man sit only for a Slave ▪ The Humble of a Nature poor and base ; The Cha●●●●●●ng a dull insipid Race ; And Temp●rance a Gallant 's chief disgrace . In Vertues garb , the great Mans Vice they dress , Giving it names with sound of Worthiness . They call his Pride the Graniduer of his mind , And for his lust the Name they have design'd 〈◊〉 a Compli●a●●●●yr , that makes men kind ▪ Profaneness is his Wit ; and his Excess By a Gay janty Humour they express ; All his Debauches too must be no less ▪ Thus they lap ruin up , and guild our Crime● But Vice destroys , like Ivy , where it climbs In us the dangrous state th' Ambitious see Of Greatness , Avarice , and Flatterie . Gifts , Honour , Office , Greatness , Grace of Kings , Raise the Ambitious upon treach'rous wings . Till from the mighty hights they giddy grow , And fall into the Ruin lyes below . If the first fail , which do support our state , The last our fall serve to percipitate . This with to dear Experience we have bought , And learnt a Lesson , which too late was taught . Prosperity's a Drug that must be ta'ne Corrected , ( Opium like ) or else 't is bane A more Lethargick quality's in her , Than ever yet in Opium did appear . Her fatal Poyson to the Mind she sends , And uncorrect , in sure destruction ends . Whilst in the way her guilded snares she lays , Easie and credulous Man she soon betways ; Who sees her ●o●es and her Lillies here ▪ But her concealed Snakes doth never fear . Prosperity a repasts pu●● up the Mind With unsubstantial and unwholesome wind T is a 〈…〉 do use ▪ And 〈…〉 ▪ But when Affliction moulds your dayly bread , 'T is then the staff of Life with which she 's fed . Affliction ( like the River Nile ) bestows Her fruitful blessings wheresoe're she flows : And if when she withdraws , strange Serpents rise Not in her streams , but in Soyl , it lyes . Which ( like the great Apollo ) she strikes dead , By the same Influence they first were bred , If she return , and shew her hidden head . Great minds ( like the victorious palms ) are wont Under the Weights of Fortune more to mount . Strongly supprest , and hurl'd upon the ground , Fill'd with sublimer thoughts they more rebound Still careless whether Fortune smile or frown , Whether she give , or take away a Crown . Our Walls are Tyded , and by that we know She always ebbs , when she doth leave to flow , And constant in Inconstancy does grow . Make an attacque all Injuries that can , They sall like Waves beneath a rising Swan . Freed and secur'd from all discordant Care , Here we our heads above the billows bear , Till from our shoulders they transplanted are . And from their summits , with dum gapes proclaim Of a Quincumvirat the trait'rous shame . But during all this Storm , we still do find An Anchor and a Haven in our Mind , Not beaten now , though then expos'd to th' Wind As Nightingales , our bosoms we expose , And sing , environ'd with the sharpest woes . Degraded from vain Honour , here we grow More great and high , as Trees by lopping do . Honour 's like froth in each Man's glass of Beer ; 'T is least of use , though topmost it appear ; The common Vouchee for ill acts she 's grown ; It and Religion all our Mischiefs own . She raigns in Youth with an unruly heat , And in her falser Mirrour shews them Great , Till Age and Time convince them of the cheat . Rash heads approve what sober Men despise , And the fantastick Garb offends the Wise ; She rarely now is seen but in Disguise . True Honour and plain Honesty 's the same ; From various Dwellings , comes the various Name : For whilst she gay in Courts , she 's Honour there , But Honesty with Us in Durance here . In differing States , most things have difference : What pleas'd this day , the next offends the Prince . The Prosperous loath what the Afflicted love ; Prisoners abhor , what free they did approve . And still there 's power in each Mans choice to make , Himself content , if he can wisely take , And think his own ( though hard ) a happy Stake . In ev'ry state does some Contentment dwell , And here we find a Pallace in a Cell . Good is good ev'ry where , and ev'ry thing , And good can of it self no evil bring . All good 's a raye of the first Light alone , When Ill approaches , only that 's our own , Vertu 's not gain'd by spending of our days In pleasure , Princes Courts , or from the Rays . At Vertue 's Coast by Travel we arrive , And so by Travel Virtue 's kept alive . She dwindles if she want due Exercise ; But us'd , grows brighter and still multiplies ▪ Virtue increases , Snow-ball-like , rowl'd on● A lazy Vertue 's next of kin to None . Pris'ners indeed they be , that do lay by At once their Fredom and their Industry . If Men turn Drones within their hony'd Hyves , It lyes i' th' Pris'ners heart . and not his Gyves ▪ The good grows better here , the bad grows worse , The Spur that mai●es this go , does jade that Horse . Hence the great'st part are male-content and sad Since that the Good are fewer then the bad . A Bliss that springs from p●netential joy , Is the Minds balsome in each sharp Annoy ; Fools only their own Comfort do destroy To this R●●rement we can freely go , 'T is the great'st pace of Majesty below : Or stirring out imports the World to know ▪ The Go●ler' , Centinel to guard our Doors , And Castles are contain'd i' th' narrow Floors ▪ More happy and more safe , secur'd from Foes , Than those whom Troops of Enemies enclose Much more as Pris'ners , our high bliss we boast , Being secur'd from such a mighty Hoast Of deadly Foes , so fierce with wrath & might , Our selves so feeble , and unfit to fight 'Gainst the black band of vicious and Profane , Who thousands do undo in each Campain . In the Assault , we seldom brook the Field . But flye like Hares , or else like Cowards yield . Yet this the World esteems an hard estate , And Us , who feel it , count unfortunate . Shew then , Philosophy ! the state wherein Such Safety , and so much content is s●en . Wherein less rugged or steep hind'rance lyes , T'obstruct the Path unto Perfection's prize , The useful Rod's only bound up for this , To whip and lash the Childish on to Bliss ; Who sull●nly refuse the Rod to kiss , And so the Blessing in the Whipping miss . Some , like the Whale , only design'd to play In fruitless pleasures , drive the flying day ; As Boys with Clackers drive the Lent away . Whilst here , we stop the hours of time , that flyes , With Contemplation's nobler Exercise . Maugre all Goals , think we e're long must dye , And then enjoy an endless Liberty ; Death will redeem from long Captivity . Man's Life 's a Piece spun of a various Thred ; In some 't is sine , in some a cou●ser Web. The Threads across , th' Occurrences of Fate , Cut early from the Loom by Death , or late . The Dread of Kings , Death , does not us dismay ; To Dye's less then be Tantaliz'd each day . What Man complains , with Weariness opprest , That Night is come , the only Time to Rest ?

The last Speech of Sr. Edmundbury Godfrey's Ghost . LOok up ? Base Croaking zealots of the Age Before your Frenzy Wits , fall into rage ; Look here ? Who Vindicates the Royal Stage . Godfrey's brave Spirit , doth this day appear , Tremble ye now for Anger , or for Fear . His shorthy Ghost , that courted Sacred good , Has past the dangers , of the Stygian Flood ; Left the Elizian Shades , by strict commands , To see once more how this poor Cuntrey stands . But to our shame his grieved Soul doth find , ( Lunatick Zeal ) with us hath been too kind , And struck his Loving Fellow Subjects Blind . He fears our Disobedience to a Prince , Whom Heaven protected , ( he can the World convince , ) From Zealous rage ; and Traytors hands long since . He sees & fears that in-bread Wars are coming By Zealous Prayer created , Preach'd by cunning , Holy long-winded , Fervent , Pious men , Who seem as innocent as the prety Wren ; But if well try'd , we easily may sind , They unto none , but themselves are kind ; Envy all happiness , but what 's their own , Have humble out-sides , inwardly o're-grown With Pride , Ambition , and Self-interest ; Longing with Crowns themselves for to invest . For what is Monarchy , to them that say , They are all Monarchs , that zealously can pray ? He sees foul threatnings , and intestine Thunder , The Plagues of eating Swords , Domestick Plunder . Foretels the Fathers striking of his Sons , Who without mercy , on the old Sire runs ; Sees the Sons base Revenge upon the Father , Who never leave , till all lie dead together ; Friend killing Friend , a Brother fights a Brother , And spares his own blood less than any other . Awake , awake , I say awake betimes , Before your Souls feed on such Hellish crimes ; Let your own reason clear your blinded eyes , Let sad experience , banish such Tragedies ; And as you older are , still grow more wise . Beware those Monsters , that have taught your Zeals , First to Dethrone your Prince ( whom God heals , Then brings Destruction , to your Publick Weals For doubtless such base Principles as these , Cannot , but must the Heavenly Power Displease Godfrey's fore griv'd-Ghost , weeps Bloody Tears , Seeing you drawn into Jealousies and Fears , To act those things , which murdering sorrow bears Is it so long since , that you have forgot , Can you so soon wash out that Royal Spot , Of Sacred Innocent Blood , bring back to mind , Murd'ring the Sire , then to the Son be kind , And say again your Zeal had made you blind . Let no Religious Cloak your Bodies cover , And under That Both Prince and Country Smother . To make your selves more hateful , & less good Then Lucifer and his Rebellious Brood . But striving ( with this Difference in the thing , ) They 'gain their Heavenly — But you , both 'gainst your Heaven & Earthly King . Nav e'n a King so good , so sweet , so great , Makes all your joys and Happiness Compleat : Them only are excepted , that you see Fain would be Monarch's , Kings as well as He. Let not your Loving Godfrey longer weep , But let his weary Ghost retire to sleep ; Who never can have rest , unless he find , Your Souls more Loyal , to your Prince more kind ; Endeavouring still to imitate those Quires , That with their Harps , and Hearts , and Sacred Lyres Sing to their Heavenly King , who can alone , Set whom he pleases on an Earthly Throne .

Advice to the Painter's Adviser . WE Dogs and Lions by their Voices know , For by their Notes themselves all Creatures show ; Yet here 's a Thing I know not what to call , He roars and Barks ; what 's Good he curses all . No Monster that e're yet from Africk came , But what would start at thy prodigious Fame ; Yet we thy Name nor Pedigree can tell , Thou dar'st Blaspheme beyond the Mouths of Hell . What shall I call thee , Monster or base ●iend , That canst daub Paper to so base an end ? Unmouth that Tongue , maugre its double Pale , ( Fit Instrument to tell the Devils Tale ) Which dar'd blaspheme that Sacred Majesty , The voice of Angels joy'd to Deisie . Foul Traitor , to bespatter such a King With th' Aspish Poison of thy slandering , Whose ev'ry Action ( if the Truth we scan , ) Speaks as much God , as his Foes find him Man ? A Prince so tender of his Subjects Good , As would redeem the meanest with his Blood ; Heavens Joy , Earths Pride ; when After-age shall tell His Worth and Parts , 't will want a Parellel . Let Greece and Rome their Heroes Punies call , Our Charles the Great , I 'm sure outdoes them all . 〈◊〉〈◊〉 , thy sharp Arrow , bitter word , 〈◊〉 more than Europ's many edged Sword . ●● Heavens look to 't , he that attempts so high ●● Vice-God Charles , threats Gignatomachy . So he that stabb'd fam'd MIllain's Duke of yore , By Practice at his Picture did no more . ●ut ( Oh! the Devil ) see the Serpent flies To his first course , he doubles his Advice To a poor Painter , to draw This and That , And draws himself into the Lord knows what . Even so those Brats of sin we blush to own , We bring to others doors , and lay them down , But ( pox upon his Picture , ) to be short , The wary White could have no colour for 't ; Else Hell had paid the Wages of th' abuse , His Quidlibet audiendi's no excuse . Kings failings ( if they are any ) ought not lie An open Prospect for the Vulgar Eye . He that drew Alexander's scarry Face , Discreetly put his Finger on the place : But where 's the Artist that can frame a Line , To Shadow or Eclipse the Glorious Shrine Of Charles's Ray ; what Eagle-Eye can gaze On so much Sun , or sully such a Blaze . Illustrious i' th' Abstract , whose each Glance Would strike Presumption out of Countenance ; Much less can any draw his Treasur'd Mind , To every Noble Virtuous Mood inclin'd ; Vnblemish'd as the Saints , the Sun less clear In that first Shine which Summer'd all the Year : Our Painters well knew this , who e're read o're A Face more puzling Art , a mind much more . Then , Devil do thy worst , with thy Advice , Charles and his Court are 'bove thy Calumnies . Powers and Dignities approach the Skies , Like Ships the more the Waves do under rise . But 't is not each Gods Fate alone , else why Do Miscreants slight the Angels Ministry ? Ours is but little lower , one remove , Vicegerent to the King of Kings above . The best are still the most malign'd with wrong , Virtue 's no fence against a spiteful Tongue ; He is the Object of his Prophanation . Tho' pure as new fall'n Snow , free from offence , As blameless Truth , and white as Innocence . His breath blasts those , whose breath persuming Air , Makes all ( save that ) as sweet as they are fair , Unbitter'd bitterness it self of all , Earth's Heavenly few , the most Angelical , But Vice be dam'd , thou art like one of those , Who giddi'd in a Ship at Sea , suppose The Continent doth move as well as they , All tread awry to those whose Feet are splay ▪ If ( tho our thoughts are free ) we must not think Ill of the King ; he that shall black his Ink , And pale his Paper with words , startles more , Than , Lord , have mercy , chalk'd upon the door . To traduce Princes in the shapes of sin , Wise Painters choose to draw the Devil in ; These are the marks o' th' Beasts , who casts an eye On those ( as on a Basilisk ) must die . The Mecha Pilgrims at their Prophets Tomb , Need nothing else to make them blind or dumb . Here now my muse would sit as Judge at last , And Sentence pass on every Sentence past ; But he 's not woth the while , Avant , be gone ; Yet first attend thy Benediction . Thou that darst own , and dost desire no Name , But what is Registred to endless shame , Live long in all the Plagues this World affords ; And if thou wilt repent and eat thy words To choak thee ; or , to give the Devil 's due , The Hang-man draw thee , and thy Painter too .

The Hypocritical Christian ; or the Conventicle Citizen . WEll ! for a careful foresight , sober wit , Give me a Godly , zealous , Whiggish Cit. He twice a Week to Week walks , Where bawling , canting Preacher Nonsense talks He ( squeamish Fool ) for Orthodox Divine N●re cares ; because he cannot Sob , and Whine He likes a Tubster with his down cast Face , His Comic Postures , and his damn'd Grimace . But hates the Rev'rend Clergy of the Town , Disdains with Pride a Pulpiteer in Gown . And every Parson Dr. Crape he 'l call ; Like Lad of la●e at Merchant-Taylors-Hall . Whose sneaking looks his Principles betray'd . It was a sly , starv'd Whig in Masquerade , A stingy perjur'd , faithless Renegade . The Godly Puppet came ( he said ) to see , And know the Humour of the Company . But the Glut'nous Ass he was so nasty , Hew'd down the Walls of the Ven'son-Pasty . To come to 's Rost ; Alas ! the Tarts and Pyes , To 's Estrich-stomack fell a Sacrifice . His Appetite was keen for all 's pretences , He pleas'd his Eye , and surfeited his Senses . Then all the generous Guests traduces , With slurring , dirty , pitiful abuses . Because they drank a Loyal Health or two , He calls them Popish , Torish drunken Crew . A parcel of mean sordid Lads there were , Who he was certain near eat Buck before . For such abuses let the Lad beware , And so let pimping , Whiggish Harry Care . Who 's Tugging daily to Promote the Cause , To Thwart all Justice , and make null the Laws . One Ignoramus-man ( says he ) at least , Is able to purchase all that were at Feast . All their Estates in equal Ballance lai'd , By one Whig-Jury-man's would be out-weigh'd . Faith ! Harry's very generous ; he prates As tho he really knew all mens Estates . Poor Mr. Christian's dead , and the Dukes Grace , May give to Harry his old Stewards place . For he 's a Godly , Honest Man , and true , And do's deserve his place , and Pill'ry too . His too hot Zeal for Teckley Reformation , In broaching Falshoods , t' embroil the Nation ; The greatest Truths that published can be , By Hodge ; are Story 's and damn'd Ribaldry , If it with his and Gotham's disagree , The Dukes young Daughter could not live 't was said 'T was so infirm a Child , and since 't is dead . The Serenading Crew , for all their squeaking , Were Thieves , and did intend House-breaking . Contriv'd with 's Grace , a black and dismall War , To batter him with Fiddles and Guittar , The Instrument of Death , a small Rechorder , And Fiddle Stick , and Pipe to do the Murder . The Chichester Informer took a Pot , Too much of Brandy ; and his Brains were hot . Broke Windows was a swearing drunken Sot . H' had wild Freaks , ungovernable Passions , and dy'd ( like Bishop's Horse ) of the Fashions . The fine Prelatic Jade will sure be Sainted , Yes , yes : If Baxters Book of Saint's reprinted . Then Curtis , Care with mighty Polander , Shall have their Names in Whiggish Calender . And all who carry on the work o' th' Laird . Shall have a good and bountiful Reward . In this large Catalogue of Fools and Knaves , Come Leaden Constables with wooden Staves . With Solemn Oaths they gravely can dispence , They have a swingeing well stretcht Conscience . Who take up th' Office out of mighty Zeal , To support their Brethren o' th' Common-weal . They to th' Brother-hood send holy Greetings , Acquaint them how they 'l come t' molest th' Meetings . Then hey ! the Godly Flock's dispers'd & gone . And all ( like young Fledg'd Birds ) are quickly Flown . The Preacher then with 's Congregation , Give thanks for this great Preservation ; And Orders that th' Thanks of the House be sent To Godly Constable ●or's good intent . O! what will not Men do , if this they dare , To Affront Justice ? and themselves Forswear To Oblige a few , and such a Faction please , Who in this Government were ne're at ease . Thus Officer , ( though gravely Sworn ) Collogues , Calls Hilton Fool , and all th' Informers Rogues . Though he hath Warrants with him , that 's all one , In spite of Laws , he Executeth none . 'T is strange , such Meetings cannot silenc'd be , Where Preacher bawls so much for Liberty , And boldly talks of Subjects Property . Oh! Horrid Insolence ! can Justice sleep ? Not see such Vermin into Corners creep ? Seduce poor Women , and on Cit impose , Draw him through Bogs of Error by the Nose . Tell him of Plots , and great Designs , forsooth All which the Cred'lous Cit sucks in for Truth : That sev'ral Jesuits were up and down , In close Cabals , for to enslave the Town . It was not long ago at Lor'mers Hall , That Youngsters did for Magna Charta Bawl . And ( like Hugh Peters ) with new strange Alarms Bid 'em beware , stand stiffly to their Arms ; To quit themselves like Men , be Strong & Stout , Secure their Persons , and the Tories Rout , What! lose the Priv'ledge of Chusing Shri●ves , Why North and Rich will prove two deadly Thieves . They 'l rob you of your Jury's here at home , And make you fall sad Victims unto Rome . Then still oppose the Polls of Sir John More , He hugs that Witch , the Babylonish Whore , Will ne're your Native Liberty's restore . Be ready too , your Charter to secure , Who those damn'd Quo-Warranto's can't endure ? You see that Oxford stoutly doth Defie Such Writs ; and will protect their Liberty . Ne're trust their Charter in the Hands of King's , Who 'd bauk their Privil'dge , & clip their Wings . Then stand it out Boys still , and still be Famous , ( Like Oxford Towns-Men ) for old Ignoramus . But I 'm inform'd of late that Whiggish Town Is Alter'd strangely ; and is Loyal grown , An Impudent Resistance do's disown . The Charter they 'l Resign for all the bawling , Of Foolish Wright , and self-conceited Pawling . To oppose the Loyalists the Whigs don't dare , The Youngsters laugh at dull Machine the Mayor Thus Honesty , I hope , in vogue may be , And Cit may find his long lost Loyalty , And baul no more for Bugbear Property . May names of Parties and Distinctions cease , May Faction fall , and Loyalty increase , To Stablish here an Universal Peace . May Cit to Church devoutly go and Pray , And ne're despise a Godly-Homily . Ne're Meet thus in Unhallow'd Barns and Styes , And blindly Offer their Fools Sacrifice . Leave Cit , those Synagogues , and do Conform , Into the Churches Breast at last Return . Cast off ( for shame ) the Factious Crew ; you know How they Prophanely impudent do grow . An Am'rous Brother late so kind and tender , Did there with Sister Publickly Ingender . The Preacher saw the Godly Act of Grace , Saw the Lewd Couple Zealously Embrace . He nodded , Frown'd , and gravely did Reprove , Their wicked Satyr's way , of Bruital Love . Hence forth he 'l have a Smarter Rod in Pickle , For such Debaucher's of 's dear Conventicle . From such Vile Cells as from Contagion flee , Such Deeds were ne're seen in Monast'ry . Believe it ( to th' Eternal shame of Meetings ) Nor in our Churches are such Carnal Greetings . Then prithee disaffected Cit Comply With Law ; and thou 'lt enjoy thy Liberty . Securely live beneath thy Vine at ease , Thy Credit and thy Fortune will increase . Be Loyal , and defend the Kings Just Right , Ne're read a Factious Pamphlet with delight . Ne're feed on Horse-flesh ; nor read vain Discourses 'Twixt Charing-Cross & your Wool-Church-Horses Ne're have a Vicious thought 'gainst Majesty , But let all Treason-Talkers silenc'd be , Those Vermin that do girn at Monarchy . Oppose their barking ; and let the World know You can be honest , if you would be so . The Comet that appear'd did sure portend , That all your Factions here will have an end , And Zealous Conventiclers will then amend .

On the KINGS most Happy and Miraculous Deliverance at Newmarket . SO Weapons prosper which are form'd 'gainst Heaven , Or it is Vicegerent Heavens peculiar Care , To whom are more then Vulgar Blessings given , And fire has sav'd whom men more Cruel wou'd not spare . Some greater Genius him defends , By mighty means for mighty ends , And makes his Foes his Footstool be , Or ( what his Goodness more Delights to see ) Makes them his Friends : II. Nor do we more Congratulate , The present safety of the State , Then future Peace which we anticipate . Now Treasonous Arts are so Expos'd to view , The Plots as soon as hatch'd are blasted too . Popery's coming in they well might cry , Whose Methods wou'd fulfil the Prophecy . Nor did they cheat the World who took such Pain The Jealousies they rais'd shou'd not be vain . First Arbitrary Power must down , ( Meaning the Crown . ) Then must some Minister be in Disgrace , Because a Rebel wants his place . More Liberty the People crave , Yet know not how to use that which they have . Next that Mens Properties secur'd must be , They'd made the King a Property , What monstrous Blessings wou'd a Change create Might Atheists mend the Church , and Knaves the State . But shall we twice be gull'd by one pretence ? With our Allegiance have we lost our Sense ? These very Tricks ruin'd us once before , Curse of such Arts which now are Arts no more All that is envy'd still attend the Throne , And him that sits Thereon . But when these Earthly Gods shall die like Men. Let only Nature then ( Nature the Rule of him by whom Kings Reign ) Appoint who next shall grace & truth Maintain . Many Names of Matchless Heroes of this Race , Distinguish happy times , till time it self shall cease

A Pastoral upon the Death of her Grace the Dutchess of ORMOND . Qua nihil majus , meliusve Terris Fata donavere , bonique Divi , Nec dabunt : Quamvis redeant in Aurum Tempora priscum . Horat. MYRTILLO . ALEXIS . MYRTILLO . IF loaded Eye-lids , and a clouded Brow , Cross'd Arms and rising Sighs , great Sorrow shew ; And if one Friend may know anothers care , Why these sad Marks does my Alexis wear ? ALEXIS . Alas , Myrtillo ! cast thy eyes around , And tell me , what like comfort 's to be found ? The Sun has not sent forth one chearful Ray , But worn a Cloud of Mourning all the day . See how our drooping Flocks no Pastures heed , But bleat about us , and neglect to feed ! Let Nature look in all her Orders sad ; Nor Envy dare to shew it , if she 's glad ; Since nothing , nothing now can Joy restore , For Fate has struck , and Pyrrha is no more . MYRTILLO . Pyrrha ! for whom our daily vows we pay'd , And best-lov'd Younglings on the Altar lay'd ; For whose long Well-fare , Life , and happy State , All grateful Pray'rs on the good Gods did wait ; Whose Virtue Nymphs were taught to copy young , For 't was the Theme of ev'ry Shepherds Song : Has Fate at last prevail'd ! And is SHE gone ! O whither now shall many wretched run ! The Injur'd , for Redress ; the Poor for Aid ; Worth , for Reward ; or Grief , to be allay'd : Since Justice , Pity , Bounty quits our Plains ; But Sorrow grows Eternal , and remains . ALEXIS . As full blown Flow'rs , that long have deck'd the ground , And with their Odours fill'd the Air 〈◊〉 , bend down their heads at last to Mother Earth , And fade away , though to a second 〈◊〉 ; Or as tall Caedars , who ( admir'd ) have stood For many years the Glory of the W●●● , ●inding in time their sacred Roots decay , Are by the next rude tempest torn away , So flourish'd Py●rha , and as high did rise , Adorn'd the Farth , and seem'd to reach the Skies . Fair , without blemish ; Lofty , without Pride : But , Oh! the Tempest rose , and Pyrrha dy'd ! Gone then 's all Spring , now Winter's only ours ; Sighs rise like Storms , and Tears must fall like Showers . MYRTILLO If full of Years and Honours Pyrrha fell , Grief may with Swains of humbler Talents dwell While to a nobler work our minds we raise , Suspend our Sorrows , and Proclaim Her Praise . ALEXIS . As round Heaven's Throne whole Choirs of Angels throng Yet all their Triumph's one Eternal Song : So here on Earth should Pyrrah's Praises last , Till Time 's no more , and Natures works lie wast . MYRTILLO . Ten let us tune our Reeds ; Thou first the Lay Begin ; Our Flocks shall listen , and I 'll play : So up to Pyrrha's Fame our Notes we 'll raise , Suspend our Sorrows , and proclaim her Praise . ALEXIS . Mean time , ye boundless Winds , your Gusts forbear , And all ye Hills and Valleys round give ear : Keep back ye Rivers , and forbear to run , Till the great Tale of Pyrrha's ●ame be done : Then let each wind bear it where-e'r it blows , Catch it , ye Hills and Valleys , as it goes , With your assenting Ecchoes in the close . Murmur it , Floods , as to your Seas ye creep , And with It add new Wonders to the Deep ; For the Renown of Pyrrha's Name shall last Till Time 's no more , and Natures Works lie wast . MYRTILLO .

On then .

ALEXIS . — As Stars before the rising day Seem in their Orbs to sink , and dive away ; So all the Nymphs upon our sertile Plains , Though proud and cruel to their sighing Swains , When Pyrrha's pow'rful Charms approach'd , they fail'd , And any Satyr might have then prevail'd : So much in blooming Youth cou'd she surprize , Sh 'ad all the panting Hearts and wishing Eyes . Come then , ye Nymphs of Arcadia , draw near , Weep round her Earth , and all your Garlands tear ; For Pyrrha's Beauty once no Equal knew ; But Fate has seiz'd Her now , and must have You. MYRTILLO . Pyrrha's bright Eyes enlightned every Grove , And fir'd at last Al●anders Hear● with Love ; The Nymph found Him a Tryumph worth Her Charms , And She alone was sit to fill His Arms , Many did either Conquest wish t'ha● made , But only They each other could 〈◊〉 ; For in her Form did Nature seem improv'd , And He was fram'd to Love , and be Belov'd : Therefore Heav'n smil'd , and all the Stars look'd kind , When Pyrrha & Alcander's Hearts were joyn'd . ALEXIS . Who has not heard of great Alcander's Name , So long the Muses Task , and Pride of Fame ? Pan ●arly chose , and made him great in Pow'r , When the Wolves rag'd , and did our Flocks devou● He took the guard of the molested Plains ; Saw our Lambs ●●d , & chear'd Vs srighted Swains ; Wak'd with us midst dark Nights and pinching Colds , To drive the howling Monsters from our Folds : In all which time , Pyrrha , His charming Bride Oft came , and watch'd as He did , by His side ; Of his worst dangers still her part would bear , And for all Joys She gave him , ask'd but care . Now , ye poor Flocks , go bleat about , and stray ; Ye Shepherds , cast your Scrips and Hooks away ; Stretch'd on the ground , your Fatal loss bemoan , And call on Pyrrha's Name at ev'ry groan . MYRTILLO . Full fifty happy years this matchless Pair Liv'd in unshaken Love ; No Jealous care , Or mean Distrust , did once their Joys molest , So in a Noble Off-spring were They blest , Of Warlike Youths , worthy their Fathers Name , And D●ugh●●●s , spotless as their Mothers Fame : Bold Celadon , the Darling of loud War , And Strephon now , whose pious shoulders bear The burden of his aged Fathers care ; Young Damon , lovely as the Beams that play About our East , and lead the coming Day ; Fair Phyllida , who was with Aegon wed , And blest Him with a Faithful Fruitful Bed ; Generous Lysca too , by Nature taught To recommend the poor mans cause unsought . ALEXIS . All these the Off spring were of Pyrrha's Womb : Come then , ye Mothers , mourn around Her Tomb : In Pyrrha's Name your Mystick Rites perform , When to your Aid ye would Lucina charm , Either the lab'ring Matrons pangs to ease , Or bless the Barren Mourner with increase . MYRTILLO . Oh! kind Alexis , still pursue thy Song , How these fair Branches grew , or wither'd young ALEXIS . Brave Celadon through ●ate untimely fail'd , And was by Pan and all his Train bewail'd ; Some mourning Muses sung Him to his Tomb , Yet others felt more grief , and thence were dumb . Young Damon faded in His Beauties Pride , And Phyllida no less lamented dy'd . But long may Strephon's Life rejoyce the years Of good Alcander , and assist His Cares . Fulness of time , kind Heav'n , to Lysea give , 'T is for your Honour , Gods , that she should live ; For She , the more of days you Her afford , By Her good Deeds will make You more ador'd ; Since Lysea was of pious Pyrrha born , And Pyrrha's Virtues Lysca's Heart adorn .

MYRTILLO .

Put what shall now give good Alcander joy ?

ALEXIS .

The Gods , when Fate took Celadon away , Call'd Daphnis forth , th' Heroick Race to run , Which his great Parent had so well begun : From Celadon's brave Loins young Daphnis came , ●ull of His Heat , and conscious of His Fame ; Whose Mind his Fathers Deeds did so imploy , He grew Alcander's Hopes , and Pyrrha's Joy . P●r● ha lov'd Daphnis , and with pleasure found The Hero's Virtues in the Youth abound . When Daphnis languish'd , Pyrrha did provide The charming soft Aminta for His Bride : Amin●a ! tender as the Lambs that play In Sunny morns , and Innocent as They ; Sweet as those ●v●ning Airs that gently blow Where the rich fragrant Eastern Spices grow ; Calm as our Groves in a fair Summers night , And ●ovely as the first-created Light . Daphn●● w●s born , Amintas with him joyn'd , To chase all sorrows from Alcander's mind ; To add new Honours to His store of ●ame , And a long Race of Heroes to His Name : 〈◊〉 ●●me , which shall , with Pyrrha's Praises , last 〈◊〉 Time ▪ ● no more , and Natures Works lie wast .

Funeral Tears to the Sacred Memory of our late Soveraign King CHARLES the Second . THe Noon-day Star , that once out-fac'd the Sun , Charles his bright Phosphor , has its period ●un : And resting Charles , with more six'd Glories crown'd , Has past his mighty finish'd Circle roun● . All th' untired race of Prodigies , the late Continued shame of this Stupendious sate , Which once his Restoration Lawrels bore ; Those never-sleeping Pores , now move no more . Myriads of Gardian Angels all disband ; And Wonders wait no more on his Right Hand . Whilst Truth invincible , unbyast Right , Goodness unbounded , Mercy Infinite ; Honour Unsullyed ; All the brightest Train Of Ministring Graces t' his Illustrious Raign , Their Royal Robes to Funeral Sables turn All Mourners o're their Sacred Masters Urn : But'midst the Tears our streaming Sorrows pour Three Wailing Kingdoms in one Loyal Show● How feebly does our Voice of Mourning sound , Whilst Royal Eyes in deeper Griefs lie drown'd No Heart like James with killing Loads o're prest Kindest of Brothers and of Friends the best . So sad the pangs of parting Friendship prove , Immoderate C●ief , and ever burning Love R●●d His Great Soul , and their keen passage sorce . Methink● I see Him at the Dire Divorce ; Whilst the Gr●●● James like Great Telesia stands , With 〈◊〉 Cryes , and with up-lifted Hands , With rended Garments , and a flowing Show● Of bitt ▪ rest Tears deplores the dismal Hour . Till from above behold the grining Sky ; The Fiery Steeds , and Flaming Chariot fly . Th' Ascending Saint , 'midst shouting Angels round , With purer Joys , & brighter Diadems Crown'd . Here with sad Tyes he took His last Farewell . And grasp'd the Wondrous Mantle as it fell . With Prime Transmigrating Glories fir'd , Fill'd with the Mounting God , with the whole Charles inspir'd . O Mighty Charles , what have not only We Three Kingdoms but even Empire lost in Thee ? Founder of Monarchy , for Thou alone ●●ood'●t the unshaken Bulwark of the Throne . When the old Storm yawn'd for th' Imperial wrack , Th● Hand ●●one beat the sierce Torrent back : ●●ction & 〈◊〉 by Thy strong Arm o'rethrown Whil●●● 〈◊〉 World was Thy great work alone . Glory and Peace but in Thy Sun-beams play , Whilst thou' rt the God of our long Halcyon day . The Old Fanatick Fiend , so late before Drunk with a Martyr'd Monarchs Purple Gore . Whilst with th' Old Poyson , and th' Old Rage he stood . All Thirsting for new Draughts of Royal Blood , The Crowns long Foe , and Blackest Imp of Hell , His Sting just Fastning , Thou alone couldst quell . Thy Book of Fame with this last Glory fill'd : What shall Great James on thy Foundations build ? Strike Royal Heir , th' half Conquer'd Serpent dead , Charles bruis'd his Teeth , and Thou shalt crush his Head . Peace , Vnion , Concord , all so well begun ; Tho' Thou , Great Charles , thy Race like Moses run ; Thy People led by Thy Miraculous Hand To th' Milk and Honey of a Blessed Land ; Call'd hence too soon by the Almighty Voice : Saw'st but the Borders of the Promis'd Joys : That God-like Joshua sills Thy Royal Seat , Who Thy unfinish'd Wonders shall compleat . Translated Saint , now thy ●ull Honours seize Blest with thy own Eternal Handmaid , Peace Around thy Head Immortal Honours play , Brighter thy own Restoration Day , Like thy own Mercy soft be thy Repose ; Whilst on thy Brow that Perfum'd Fragrance flows , Sweeter than the Odours even of that Rich Fame That shall Embalm Thy Everlasting Name .

SCOTLANDS Loyalty ; or , Sorrowful Sighs on the Death of our late Soveraign His Sacred Majesty ; CHARLES by the Grace of God King of Great Britain , France and Ireland , &c. LEt Musick cease ; yet let true Subjects Sing Sad Ela's Note ( in Sorrow ) for our King ; Whom ( to the worth ) no Poet can bemoan , Though all the Seas were turn'd to Helicon . But there 's no need our Sorrow to Infuse , Or strain Elogiums from a Mournful Muse In 〈◊〉 Hearts ; the cause of our sad Grief 〈◊〉 ●loods of Tears ▪ though in the end Relief . Great Charles is Dead , who was Great Britains King , 〈◊〉 ●n Exploits , who Trophies great did bring 〈…〉 and ●lenty to His own three Realms ; ●●rough storms of State , which he did turn to Calms . Our by-past Prophesies did point Him forth , Preceding Kings were Shadows of His worth : Then cast up Virtues to one total sum ; Perfections Product will be found in Him . We will Engrave His Name in Marble Pure , With Diamond of the Black Rock , to endure Till after Ages ; that our Children may Pay Tears ( for Tribute ) to His Sacred Clay , Could men in Arms our Sorrows stroak assail , Or floods of Tears with Cruel Death prevail , We 'd Muster all our Forces then with speed , And Weeping Eyes should overflow the Tweed . But sure the King of Kings hath giv'n the stroak , And Mortals cannot Destiny revoke . We 'll kiss the Rod ; though we the smart regrate Submitting though unto our rigid Fate . Yet we 'll breath doleful Sighs to His sad Herse , That 's dipt in Tears , and Elegiack Verse ; T' immortalize Great Charles His Royal Name , And be Memento's on the Wings of Fame . Then rest dear Saint , though dead yet still alive ; ( Though laid in dust , ) Times Age thou shalt survive ; Thour' t mounted high above the Worlds renown With Kings and Priests , to wear a Cross-less-Crown . And ( though our Grief cannot our loss prevent ) Let this sad Verse but give our Passion vent .

EPITAPH . HEre lyes Grave , Majestick Dust ; Which ( when alive ) was Good and Just : Great Charles the second , Britain's King ; Whose valour makes us Weep and Sing . His Crown environ'd was with Thorn , Which makes His Subjects double Mourn ▪ By Land and Sea he did our Work : The Fear , and Terrour of the Turk . He Peace to Europe did restore , When other Kings had given it o'r . Defender of the Faith , that 's true , Vntil he had the World adieu . Let Princes Eternize His Name ; And make his worth their Diadem . Now since the Sighs that did Eclipse our Skie , By His Successors Light begins to flye , O're Tears we 'll Triumph ; since our sore doth bring The surest Salve , which is a Lawful King . We 'll p●● Allegiance due on Charles his score , To JAMES the VII . and many Millions more . P. K.

An Elegy on the Deplorable , and never enough to be Lamented Death of the Illustrious , and Serene CHARLES the Second . KING of Great-Britain , France and Ireland , &c. Who departed this Life February the 6th . 1685. HAng all the Streets with Sable Sad ; and call The Royal Palace , Black and not White-Hall : Weep Sacred Beads of Loyal Tears , and true , Of Orient Pearl ; but Occidental Hew : Since Britains Phoebus hath forsook the Stage , Before he reach'd the Tropick of his Age. The interval betwixt our Setting Sun , And Rising Soveraign , 'ere his Light begun Was short ; yet ( till our Sorrow soung Relief ) We were near delug'd in the Seas of Grief . Yet ( tho' our Soveraign doth our Mourning 'swage , And gives our joy of Grief the Weather-gage . We 'll make no Bonesires , for ( it were in vain ) Our flowing Eyes would Weep them out again . All Israel when good Hezekiah dy'd , To his last B●●ath , true ●●oyal Honour pay'd ; Where 's then the Boldest Critick ●n deny 〈…〉 CHARLES his worth a D●leful EL●GY : 〈◊〉 Worth , to Times last ●riod shall Endure , In 〈◊〉 of Envy , o● the Grave , Secure . And Children yet 〈◊〉 with Tears shall pay A 〈◊〉〈◊〉 use ●o his sacred Clay . He from His Child-hood was of great Renown ; He bore his Cross before he wore his Crown . Brancht in the stock of Trouble ( 't is well known ) His Fruit was Ripe , the Blossom yet unblown . Great Britains Bane , and Blush Eclips'd his Skie , E'r - England knew his Soveraignty : But as his Sun ascended the Noon-day , A● Clouds like Vapours ) vanish'd quite away : 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ●right Calms of Peace did still remain ●●●ough the whole Circle of his Halcyon Reign . Then Rest ( dear Saint ) tho' now Intomb'd in Dust ) Un●il the Resurrection of the Just . And let our Mourners mitigate their Grief , Because our Sorrow doth admit Relief : The Vail of Death no Christian needs dismay ; The King of Kings Himself did guide the Way . And ( since our Sore a Salve along doth bring ) God save Great JAMES , our Second Soveraign King . Let his D●minions preface Black and White ; Since Rising Phoebus dissipates our Night : Let Loyal Subjects all both cry and Sing Like Bird● Reviv ▪ d in the returning Spring . Let Court and City raise their joyful Voice And Loyal Sighs still Eccho back , Rejoyce : Till Plotters all Conspiracies lay by , And Treason turn to purest Loyalty . Hence th●n projecting Traytors , stand aloof ; His Loyal Throne is sure , and Treason-Proof : Lest sit on Ed●e by old Seditious Sm●● — Your Treas●ns Trapturn round upon your Neck . His Presence may no 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Resort , Nor base 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 his Court ; But Reign in Peace , whil'st we have in our Eye CHARLES still live in JAMES'S Royalty , But since he 's Dead and gone , let this sad Verse ( Tho' undeserving ) yet attend his Herse .

EPITAPH . HEre lyes Great Charles the Just the Good , As ever came of Royal Blo●d : To Troubles Born , he Early knew What Kings ( as Men ) are subject to : His Morning Gl●ries were ●'recast , And by some Fatal Star Opprest . But as his Sun ascended Noon , The cruel Comet did fall Down , In Peace he Liv'd , in Peace he Dy'd ; The Kingdom and the Churches Gui●e , The Guardian of the swelling Main ; The Terrour of the DUTCH and DANE . At his Command all war did Cease , And Europe Owes to him her Peace . Diseases at his Power did Crouch , And own the Virtue of his Touch. Let KINGS and PRINCES in him Glory , And make his Reign their Direct●ry .

To His Sacred Majesty King JAMES II. ALL Hail Great Prince ! whom ●●'●y Miracle Preserv'd for Vniversal Ru●● ; When Time Your Wondrous Story shall unsold , Your Glori●us Deeds in Arms , when ●●● but Young ; Your strange ●scapes , and Danger● shall be told , Your Battles F●●gh● ▪ Your Guild●● 〈◊〉 is ●●● , When yet the Elder Generals ( not in Fame ) Your Perils dar'st no● share , Alone the raging Torrent You wou'd stem , And bear before You the fierce Tide of War . How Spain Records Your Glorious Name ; And how when Danger call'd , for Britains good , You paid the lavish Ransom of Your Blood . When the Ingrates shall Blushing read , How far great Souls the Vulgar can exceed In Patience , Suffering , and Humility , Your Condescention , and Your Banishment , Then let the Obstinate ( convinc'd ) agree : You only were preserv'd , and fit , for Sacred Government . Come listen all , whom needless fears possess , And hear how Heav'n confirms Your Happiness : Behold the Sacred Promis'd Prince , Whom wond'rous Prophets Ages since Told , When the Mystick figures of the Year , To such a Number should Amount , ( As fill this Lucky Years Account ) O're England there should Reign a Star Of that Divine and Gracious Influence , Should make proud Neighbouring Nations fear : And Mightier Britains happy Genius prove , And bless the Land with Plenty , Peace , and Love . 'T is YOU oh Sacred Sir , for Empire Born , Shall make the great Prediction true , And this last Miracle perform , To make Us Blest , and make Us own it too . Oh may Your ●uster with Your Li●e renew ! ●ong may You Shine , and spread Your Beams as far , As from the Morning to ●he E●●ning Star ; 'Till Your Convincing Rays , Your Foes o're come . And for Your Gl●rious Magnitude the scanted Globe want room . FINIS .

Ireland's Tears . A Pindarique Poem upon the Death of our late Soveraign Charles the Second ; and the Peaceful and Happy Succession and Inauguration of our present Great Monarch King James the II. I. AS distant Thunder in a rowling Cloud , First Murmures inwardly , then Roars aloud O're the amazed list'ning Crowd : Till the Dread Clap scares ev'ry Mortal Ear ; Too weak Heav'ns angry voice to bear : Such was the sad astonishing News Which February's 6th Ides did bring ; The dangerous Sickness of our Dearest King ▪ It stun'd all Ears , and did all Minds amuse ; All the sad Tydings so bemoan , As if it were not His Sickness , but their Own . Trembling , and full of Fear we wait To know what the next Messenger will say ; And all the while we Weep , and all the while we Pray . When suddenly Death's Herald spoke the Dreadful Fate — Alas ! the Miserable Day ! The News too sad to Hear , too Killing to repeat II. Horrour and Cryes fill all around : Distracted Looks , and Throbbing Hearts , As if 't were the last Trumpets sound , In ev'ry place are found ; And hideous Groans do Eccho from all parts . Frighted with what I saw , and heard ; But much more with what I sear'd : The blasted City soon I left , And as of Reason quite bereft , I wildly roam'd about to seek some place Less Doleful than that City was ; Where without Partners , or Lookers on , I might Enjoy my Grief alone : And for a little space Might lay the weighty burden of my Sorrow down . III. And long I had not rov'd about , E're an approv'd Retirement I found out ; Ruins , that to Religion Sacred were of Yore ; Nor now less Venerable than heretofore : Where all things did my Melancholly Fancy please Murmuring Waters , awful Cliffs , & wither'd Trees There Cheerful Birds n'ere Sing , nor e're blows Nor any Beast , or Humane Face [ gentle breeze Was to be seen upon the lonely Place . To this Forlorn and Uncouth seat , Well suited to my Troubled state , I softly with my load of Grief retreat : Where each Rock , and ev'ry Tree Wou'd , ( I knew ) Condole with me ; Only stearn Fate would un-relenting be . Thus then with many a Tear and Groan , My Dead Prince I did bemoan . IV. Charles , the Clement , and the Good ! Charles , the Flow'r of Princely Blood ! Of all we Earthly Gods do call , Charles , the most Belov'd of all ! Our Heart's Delight , Joy of our Eyes ; And whom not we alone did prize , Through the whole Universe His Glory flies . Ev'n Nations Strangers to our Faith and God , Heard of His Fame , Rever'd His Name , And Eastern Princes Dazled with His bright Renown , Which did so much Eclipse their own , Sent their Embassadors Abroad To Court the Favour of this Second Solomon . Of Him to learn the Royal Art To Govern , and secure the Peoples Heart : While Christendom in ev'ry weighty All Did to His well-known Justice still Appeal , Whose Word and Wisdom ever turn'd the Scale . V. He that can tell the drops of Rain Which on an April day do fall , ( Or his sad Subjects Tears can count , Which to a greater number mount ; ) May reckon up the Graces , but not all , ( For that Essay would be in vain , ) Which did adorn his Life and Glorious Reign : For who will e're Attempt to tell Things that are unexpressible ? Great Lord of Wit , Patron of Arts He was , Learnings strong Atlas , Poetry's best Friend ; Crown'd with each Ray , and blest with ev'ry Grace , That could a Prince , or make , or recommend . But if in any one He could & did Himself Excel . 'T was that of Clemency ! Herein He was Heav'ns Parallel . Nay ( be 't with Reverence spoke ) He Heav'n out-went , In Pard'ning the Impenitent — Is Heav'n it self so Merciful as He ? VI. But as Ten Thousand scatter'd Rays By Art are made to Center in one Glass ; So all the Tenderness and Love Which in His Heart did towards all His Subjects move , First on His Royal Brother fell , and through Him did pass ▪ Not fearing loss of Empire , or of Life , When High-born James's Foes were rife , When sawcy , Factious Senates menac'd high ▪ And blush'd not to Decry The Crown's Just Heir and Truest Friend to Monarchy Our King close to His Brothers Interest stood , And stem'd the Impetuous Flood . To the Damn'd Project soon He put an end , And shew'd Himself not more a Monarch than a Friend . Friendship like This the World did never know , Save what the King of Heav'n did show , Who , for our sakes , descending here below , Ceas'd to be Happy , that we might be so . VII . How Dear to Heav'n its Champion was , our Prince , ( Who did so well Defend the Crown And Faith which He receiv'd from thence , ●till valuing the Publick Weal , more than his own ) Let the long Chain of Miracles convince , Which , Maugre all the opposition Of Fiends , & Fiend-like Men combin'd in one ; Destin'd him for , and Brought Him to , and kept Him on His Throne . Witness that shining Herald , sent To tell the World of His Illustrious Birth : As if Heav'n had hereby meant — Another God is Born on Earth ! At Noon we saw the New-born Star Shine on his Infant Brother here , With a Mild Aspect , yet so Bright and Clear As did out-vie the Mid-day Sun , As far as He Himself all other Kings has done VIII . And when Rebellion Black and Dire Had harass'd long His God-like Sire ; Whose Life it Barbarously took away , Of all things Great and Holy made a Prey , And turn'd three Kingdoms into One Aceldam ▪ Our late ( Ah wretched word ! ) Heav'n-lov'd King , Kind Providence did wond'rously convey , And sheltred Him beneath its wing , From all the Ills which War , and Chance , And Treasons blacker than the Night , Did'gainst His Sacred Life advance . Witness His Happy 'scape from Wor'ster's Bloody ▪ Fight : Where Hov'ring Angels with their Mighty Sav'd Him from all the Hazards of that Dread-Shield ▪ And their important Charge , by ways unknown ful Field ▪ T' a Neighb'ring Friendly shade , convey'd Where sturdy Oaks stretch'd out their Arms ( Oh shame to Mans Barbarity ! ) To Receive , and shelter Distress'd Majesty . on high Witness , O Boscobel , thy Monumental Tree ! IX . From thence through Dangers numberless In mighty Wants , and deep Distress At Home , Abroad , by Land and Seas , ( As once his High-fam'd Ancestor , the wandri● Trojan Prince By many a wondrous Providence , During his Nine Years Exile hence , Heav'n its Regard of Him did Evidence , When the Almighty King to shew his care Of such as his Vicegerents are ; When Humane Force could do no more ; And when Our dying Hopes could ebb no lower ; Did by a Turn , Miraculous Restore Our King to Us , Us to our King again : To bringh which Blessed work to pass , Neither Man's ●ower , nor Policy had place ; No Contract made , nor Blows were given ; But the astonish'd World saw 't was The stupendious work of Heaven ! X. So Great a Monarch , and so Glorious , So much Belov'd at Home , & Fear'd Abroad ; ( Much too Good alass ! for Us : Wise as an Angel , Generous as a God — Though calmly Settled to a Lofty Throne , Was not above the reach of Envious Lookers on Which made him stand in need of Heav'ns high Patronage ; ( And what he needed , he still had , ) To Save his Crown and Person from the Rage Of Men ( with too much Ease ) gone Mad. Witness those Plots , the Faction's fruitful womb So oft Conceiv'd , tho' still in vain , Against their Gracious Sovereign : ( Where sometimes the Discoverer Play'd both the Devil and the Conjurer : ) Which being by Heav'ns great care Abortive still become , They added to the Wonders of his Reign : And made his Throne as fix'd and Glorious , as his Wain . XI . When lo ! the Prince who seem'd Heavns chief Delight , Its Darling and Prime Favourite , His Mid-day Glory 's all full Blown — How strangely are they Blasted , Ah! how soon ! But what Heav'n rais'd , Heav'n only can pull down . Down low as Earth , this Son of the most High is come ; And all his scatter'd Trophies serve , but to adorn his Tomb. But why ! no Prodigy at all ? No Beacon - Comet fir'd above ? ( No Monstruous Births , no Storms , no Whale , Or to Presage , Great King thy Fall , Or to attend thy Funeral ? ) Which Nature's fright might shew & Mankind's wonder move . Why ( seeing a wondrous Star proclaim'd his Birth , ) Did not as wondrous an Eclipse foretel his leaving Earth ? Must God-like Kings like Puny Mortals die ? Must Charles the most August — Be meanly crumbled like Pl●beian Dust ? Why deal'st thou with th' Anointed , O King of Princes ! why ? XII . But while thus Ravingly I spoke , With a strange Horrour I was struck , Which dim'd my Eyes , loosen'd my Joynts , and chill'd my Bloud ; Before me straight a Visionary somewhat stood ; Whose Form I could not well discern ; The Genius , likely , of the place , Or some such Airy Image 't was ; Of Stature high , Clad in Blue mists , Its Visage stern : Which with an angry Hollow Tone Thus stop'd me — Shall Mortal wight dare to reprove , Or prie into the things above ? The Prince whose Death you so bemoan , Was He not th' Almighties Loan ? Who only has took what was his own . His Awful Meen , and Heavenly Eyes , Which made all Hearts his Votaries ; His Soul so Soft , yet truly Great , His Mind so Clear , and so Sedate , Prov'd well his Extract from the Skies . XII . With Milder Accent , and Genteeler look , The Spright , ( less Frightful now , ) thus farther spoke . Then if your much-Lamented King So Good and Amiable was ; Why wou'd you have some dreadful thing The smoothness of his Reign deface ? Let Tyrants and Usurpers have Sea-Monsters , and Rough Hurricanes Foretel their Death , and dig their Graves , Such Prodigies suit well their Reigns : Comets have still a noisy end , When calmly does the Sun descend : Or if you must have Prodigies , Think of the Millions of Weeping Eyes , The Truest kind of Elegies ; Or else let this be reckon'd one , That 't is a Prodigy — That you have none . In Halcyon-days your Dove like . Prince was born , Which did with him return ; His Realms five Lustres have Peace's white Livery worn ; Living , He Peace bestow'd on ev'ry side , Kept all in Peace , and Peaceably He Dy'd . XIV . It scarce had spoke ; when , lo ! a sudden Thunder ( for such at first it did appear ) Shak'd the Thin Ghost asunder ; Which strait dissolv'd into its Primitive Air. From the cold Turf I quickly rais'd my Head , Left there my Load of Grief , and to the Town for shelter fled ; E're ( as I thought ) the Storm should fall upon my Head . The City soon I reach'd , help'd with the wings of Fear : But my old Grief and Fright soon chang'd into new Dread and Wonder When , what I took for Thunders noise , A second Peal inform'd me was the Canon's roaring voice ; Which led me to a Loyal Crowd That with Great Triumph did Proclaim , With Joyful Shouts and Acclamations Loud , A new Kings Title , and Imperial Name . Amaz'd at This so easie Change , I said , May this Prodigious Shout strike all His Enemies dead — Long , and as this Day , Peaceful be His Reign , And may His God-like Brother live in Him again . XV. Poets of old , were Prophets deem'd ; And if they now were such esteem'd , ( And who knows but they may ? ) If our Predicting Rhimes May lucky Omens prove to after Times , And , that some Good may be presag'd from Names ; Then would I boldly say These Realms are doubly blest in that of James Great Britain's Glory did Commence When the First James did to the whole give Law : He joyn'd the Kingdoms , & deriv'd from thence That long white Row of Peaceful years our Happy Fathers saw . The Second James by Heaven's Decree Will the great Healer of our Breaches be , And as His Wisdom does already give our Fears Relief , So will His Mercy suddenly Cure all our Publick Grief . Well-skill'd He is in all His Royal Grandsires Arts , Who joyn'd both Crowns , as He will do all Hearts , May Heaven fulfil , and own the Prophesie : But Ireland sure , above the rest In that Auspicious Name is doubly Blest : For while the Royal James the English Crown does wear , And Ormond's Noble James remains His Vice-Roy here , Ireland will ne're again know cause of Publick Grief , or Fear .

An Heroick POEM Most humbly Dedicated to the Sacred Majesty of CATHARINE Queen Dowager . WHat art thou Muse , that do'st the Mind inspire , And Tun'st the Strings of the Poetick Lyre ? Refin'st the Drossy Soul to Nobler Flame ? What art thou , but a strong desire of Fame ? A greedy Passion of excelling Praise , Which moves in different Tempers , different ways : To be Admir'd , first made the Souldier Fight , The Courtier Flatter , and the Poet Write . But all such Thoughts from my griev'd Bosom fled , When first I heard our Sovereign Charles was dead : My Soul grew so Opprest with the sad News , I hated Fame , abhorr'd my once-lov'd Muse , Of all Desires Grief stop'd the eager Sense , And froze Ambition to Indifference . Oh Frail Condition of all Humane Things ! See here the Fate of ev'n the Mightiest Kings ; See here the Glorious Charles , whose Royal worth Made Him the Judge of the Disputing Earth ; The Arbitration in His Bosom lay , He held the Scepter of Imperial sway , And War and Peace did His Commanding will obey . Like Heav'n ( by Heav'ns Decree ) within His Breast The Fates of Kingdoms , and of Empires Rest ; And Wisely was He chose for the great Grace , For who , like Him , could Govern such a Race As His own Murm'ring People , sure may guide With Ease and Pleasure all the World beside . And yet this Monarch — Tho' all the Earth depended on His Breath , Here lyes Himself a Subject now to Death . To the Great Dead I here should Altars raise , And guild his Lawrels with a Poets praise ; For all that Write should choose no other Theam Than the Immortal Glories of his Name , And sing to all the World the greatness of his Name . But oh ! I see his Virtues plac'd too high , I stand , and wonder , but want Wings to fly , Struck with such Lustre , ev'n the Laureat fell , Tho' skill'd in all the Arts of Praising well : 'T is true he fell , but 't was like Phaeton , Because he durst aspire to drive the Sun . Oh boundless Fame ! how great is thy excess , That Thoughts can never reach , nor Words express ! With my small Bark I dare not tempt that Coast , Where crowds of Ship-wrack'd Poets I see lost : The greatness of the work disdains their toil , This Jewel shines too bright to need a foil . Nor could I think of Verse , Griefseiz'd my Breast And Grief by Silence is the best exprest ; My Thoughts were dead , till Duty led my way , To where his Queen , his Mourning Consort lay : The Happiest Portion of his Happy Life , The Tend'rest , Kindest , most Observing Wife . Sorrow in pomp , alas ! fills all the Place , And sits Triumphant upon every Face : But in her Looks Magnificent appears , Drest in the sadness of her Royal Tears . Heccnba , the greatest Queen that World did know , Fam'd for expression of her mighty Woe , Had she liv'd now , would here Example had ; Not how to rage , but to be greatly sad : The Indian Widows , whom mistaken Fame Admires for d●ing in their Husbands flame , Find of their Grief an easie Remedy , To live in Pain is harder , than to Die . Here no unseemly clamour seeks Relief , Her Breast contains the burthen of her Grief ; Which Fire-like , supprest within her Princely mind . Lives , and preserves it self by being confin'd , The Royal Mourner , lay'd in her dark Room , Receives th' Officious Visits as they come , Those tedious Forms of Cer'mony and State , Is a hard Fine she payes for being Great . This Dismal Scene on my num'd Fancy wrought And sad Ideas gave new wings to Thought , The Prophet with his Country born away , Hung up his Harp , and Wept , but could not Play : But when with Pious Sorrow he Survey'd The Great Jerusalem in Ashes laid : From the sad Object soon new Fancies spring , And Sacred Aleph first began to Sing . Good Heav'n , of all thy great Misterious ways That Reason comprehends not , yet obeys , None moves men more to wonder , or distrust , Than thy severe Probations of the Just ; For who can hear of Pious Catharines Name , ( Great in the Glorious Rolls of Holy Fame ) And not from this sad Scene Expostulate , At least lament the Frailty of our State ? To see that Good and Great both subject are to Fate ? Else Sh' had been free , whose Life is so from Blame , Whose Thoughts make highest Virtue all their aim , At which hard mark She always shoots so right , That every Action nicely hits the White : Heav'n sent this Blessing on our English shore , T' Instruct this Isle , and Virtue to restore From hence long banish'd by misguided heat , And teach us how to be both Good and Great : Great in Her Birth , whose Royal Linage Springs From a long Race of Lucitanian Kings : And in the current of whose Blood does shine , Glorious Remains of the Lancastrian Line . She , as a Dowry , brought to England more Than any Queen that ever came before , She plac'd the English Arms upon the Africk shore But still most Great in this high part of Life , As England's Queen , and Mighty Charles's Wife : And yet — When Charity implores Her as a Friend , To see with how much Goodness she 'll descend To help th' Opprest , and to redeem the state Of the Unhappy , that are Slaves to Fate ! So the Bright Sun , that Nature sets so high , The Glory of whose Beams fill every Eye From the great height of his Imperial seat Nourishes all things by his kindly heat . In those sad times , when with a Powerful Hand Curst Perjury Infected all the Land ; Justice look'd on , but durst not say one word , Her Enemy had rob'd her of her Sword , And by her side her Ballance useless lay For now , what men believ'd , they du●st not weigh Commanding Vice struck every Virtue still , All but her Patience how to bear the Ill. The Epidemick Plague in every Breast , The wholesom Spirit 's corrupted or opprest ; Nothing could now withstand , nothing prevail , Nothing but her Pray'ers , that n●ver fail . On what vain props all Wic●edness is built ! There 's some thing Self-confounding still in guilt Else , ( Oh mistaking men ! ) else how could these , Innu●'d in the success of Villanies , Not see ? That the known Virtues of her Name Would guard her safe , & that t' attempt her Fame Must of their Story prove so hard a Test , As shows the Native baseness of the rest , Even Zeal it self could never think , that she So fam'd for Virtue and for Piety , Could never Cherish wretches to Rebel , Or strike the Life of Him she Lov'd so well : ‛ Or that a Prince could Harbour such a Thought , ‛ Who had so bravely for His Country Fought : 'A Prince within the circle of whose Mind ‛ All the Heroick Attributes are joyn'd , ‛ That differently dispers'd , hav● made men Great . A Prince so Lov'd , so much pr●serv'd by Fate 'To wear these Glorious Crowns ; and to repay ‛ What in His Brother She has born away , This show'd the Cheat , show'd what the Plot design'd , And all men saw , but such as would be Blind : Susanna-like Accus'd , Her Prayers are heard , Her Enemies are Punish'd , and she Clear'd : But 't is no wonder Heav'n should take Her part That holds such large Possessions in Her Heart : Who e're a Glorious Piety would Paint A great Triumphant Queen , and Praying Saint ; From the high Image of Her Heav'nly Thought Might draw th' exactest piece was ever wrought . The rising Sun no sooner did display His early Beams to kiss the new-born day , But that she Rose to Offer up Her Prayers To Crown with Blest success Great Charles's Cares , That this our Nation may be Prosp'rous still , And for those few that ever wish'd Her Ill : Mercy 's Her Natures great Prerogative , She never thinks of Faults , but to Forgive . 'T is this , Great Queen , that makes me dare to bring To Your high Fame so poor an Offering . Your Goodness knows to judge what we intend , And how to Pardon , if we do Offend . This knowledge gives me hope you will not blame My too-aspiring Verse , nor conceal'd Name ▪ My humble Duty here my Pride o're Pow'rs , It dares not live in the same Page with Yours : The Beams of your great Glory shine so bright , I turn my Face away from my too much Light . May Earth , Great Queen , give Joy to all your years , And Heav'n be still Propitious to your Prayers ; May the great Blessings they alone could send On Charles's Happy Reign , and Pious end ; Have Pow'r to make him in his second Birth As great a Saint , as he was King on Earth : Where e're you pass may all your En'mies bow , And Fame when she relates your Name speak true , May you possess a Chain of Happier days , And better Poets rise to Sing your Praise : And when the Fates have Seal'd your mighty Doom , ( For Fate , ( too well we see ) is sure to come ) May Heav'n a Nobler way supply our want , And hop'd Success to all our Wishes grant , Then when we loose our Queen , we are sure to find our Saint .

The Description of the CORONATION . MY Ravish'd Muse in such bright Mazes dance , So Rapture-struck , and all dissolv'd in Trance , That I her Pensel but in vain provoke , To shadow out the Visionary Stroak ; Since She , ( like Angels , that above are Blest , ) Feels Extasies too high to be exprest . Nor blame the Muse that would this Subject shun Poets and Limners should not meddle with Perfection . All common stroaks their stinted Art may draw , Whilst a Bright Vision keeps the Hand in aw . And if th' Original they don't Transcend , They only Libel , what they would commend . And who can add one little common Ray To the gay Splendor of this Happy Day ? A Day that no Hyperbole can Grace , The only Paint that Beautifies a Poems Face . Hail Happy Day ! A Day so long Renown'd For Holy George & several Monarchs Crown'd ! Tho' now thy former Glories dis-appear , As twinkling Stars , when Day's bright Gods draw near ; Yet greater Honours in their room are given , From Earth's rag Calander , thou art transcrib'd to that of Heav'n . Long hast thou worn red Characters below , But now the Gods will keep thee Holy too . Tho' the Morn was spread with Rebel-show'rs of rain Yet Jove's kind hand soon for●'d them back again : And now the Sun which long did Mourning wear Does in his Noblest Gayest Robes appear . Whilst on Heav'ns brow no Cloudy frowns were seen , But as the First-day , Pleasant and Serene . The gazing Gods throw those dark Skreens away That they this Sight the Clearer might Survey But if the Sun had layn a bed 'till now , Without his aid we 'd seen the Glorious Show . The Souls of Kings and Heroes Blest above , With Choirs of shining Spirits hither move ; Mantled in Rays of Light ne'r seen 'till now , On wings of Joy , they hover to and fro , Follow'd by Chariots so Divinely bright ; To which the Sun but Darkness is , and Night . Or had this fail'd , we might the Prospect take From the great Splendor which the Court did make . As when we would the Richest Jewels try , We need but their own Light to know them by . Hark! what soft Aires and Raptures fill the Skies , Perform'd by Infinite Choires of Deities ? Whilst Mortals too , their rural Musick mix , And with their Concord the Charm'd Planets fix . Now Guardian-Angels quit their worted Care , And flie in Troops to Guild the London Air. Where Aeolus too in gentle Breezes hast ; Loaded with all the Odours of the East , The Essence of each Fragrant Flower He brings , And hovers o'er us with His Balmy Wings . The Gods owe much to Bounteous Nature too , From whose Rich Bosom several Treasures flow . For had She Awkward been , They had been set To the Expence of greater Wonders yet . But hold ! where does my forward Pensel run To end the Day , before 't is scarce begun ? Early I rose this Triumph to attend , And saw the Royal Pair the Boat ascend . Whose Sacred Presence such Devotion strike , Poets themselves want Skill to feign the like . By slow degrees on Silver Thames they road , She as a Goddess , He so like a God , That I with Moses wisht an Interposing Cloud Objects so Bright should put on a Disguise , Least the Adorers faint beneath the Rays . In the same Sphere two mighty Suns behold ! Each of which does contain in a Heav'nly World And did the Persians see this Royal Pair , They 'd slight their God , and pay their Homage here . He that has try'd to fix his daring Eyes On that vast Light which Guilds the Morning Skies , Will find it yet more daz'ling to Survey This Pair of Suns , this double Deity . The rest o' th' Court I with more ease could view , Yet they made more than Humane Figures too . With Radiant Jewels being cover'd all o'er , Half the Worlds Wealth , with its Pride , they bore . Scarlet beneath the Massy-Lace was hid , With Imag'ry , o'er Splended Tissue spread . Here the Fair Sexes Art and Patience see , Emblem'd in ev'ry Rich Embroiderie ! Eight hideous Weeks , which most should Work , they strove , Neglecting all the while their Health & Love . And the green Girls preparing for the Day , Made themselves Pale , to make their Lovers gay . On Thames see numerous shining Vessels move , Which dance like some transported Orphean Grove . And like the Spheres their Artful measures take , From the soft Musick their own motions make But when all did in one close Body meet , They look'd like some new-built Elisian-street Or as if the highest Heav'n came down Fraughted Gems for his dear James's Crown An earnest of His brighter last Eternal one . Blest Thames ! hadst thou a Tongue thy bliss to own , My Muse had not then made her weakness known ; But since imperfect signs thy thoughts declare , I dare intrude as thy Interpreter . Hail Sacred Princes ! thrice she seems to say , Whom Instinct makes ev'n senseless things obey ; Your Royal Barge on my soft Bosom made , The happy'st wound that Water ever had . Vnder whose weight may I for ever live , But , Oh , that wish , You cannot like , forgive ! Long may You wear that Antient Potent Crown , Which now , ( Great Sir ) You 're going to put on ! And may Your Sacred , Glorious Scepter stand For ever firm , and easie in Your Hand ! Your Crown too , ( Mighty Queen ) long may You wear , And be as Happy , as You 're Good and Fair ! And when You 'll ( late ) he pleas'd t' inrich the Skie ; May some kind Stars exhale me too on high ! Where ( if the Gods so please ) may I reside Your fix'd , and everlasting Pyramyde ! In the mean while close by Your Pallace side I will with soft , and constant numbers Glide . The common Frowns which Nature bid me wear , Shall at Your awful Presence disappear . At that Command , I 'll henceforth Ebb and Flow , And will no Neptune ( Sir , ) no Thetis ( Madam ) own but You. This Speech being finisht , she resign'd her care To the now Honour'd Ground of Westminster ; Where , lo , the Earth is ready to unfold That Pomp the Sea too narrow was to hold . But Cloaths of State o're all the ground being spread , This doleful Speech the sighing Tellus made . What have I done ( ye Gods ) that I must meet This curst Exclusion from my Sov'reigns Feet ? Must I sustain more than half Europe's weight , Without the just return of viewing it ? But know , whoever did these Coverings lay , Did spoil the greatest Wonder of this day , Flora does now in my wrong'd Bosom lie , Furnisht with all her Summer Treasury ; Long since delighting on great CAESAR's Road In various Sweets to spread her self abroad . Raising her Head , she had been Proud to meet A Noble R●ia from Tour Royal Feet . But slighted thus , — she 'd something more to say , But louder Tryumphs bore the sound away . Such num'rous Crouds both far and near were seen , That streets seem'd Pav'd , & houses Tyl'd with Men , Chequer'd with the Fair Sex , appear'd more bright , Whowith hard gazing fed their eager sight , Then sigh'd & wisht , & did the rest in dreams at night . So closely prest they did one Mass appear , But when bright James & his fair Queen drew near ; The mighty Bulk did its own self divide , And made a Golden Wall on either side . Through which they to the Princes Chamber past , To take Repose , for Gods themselves must rest Where having had some short Re-fection , And Glorious proper Robes of State put on ; In the Abby ( now ) where Pomp & Tryumph waits Behold the Royal God-like CANDIDATES ? Where after numerous Ceremonies past , Of Vnction , Oaths , &c. which several hours did last , Their Sacred Heads receiv'd the Imperial Crown , By CANTERBVY's happy hand set on . Blest Man ! what bliss hast thou receiv'd this hour What couldst thou wish , or could Heav'n give thee more ? Th' exact Description of the Cavalcade , And the bright Figures ev'ry Order made ; What hands the Scepter , Sword , Staff , Orb did wear , Or who Curtana , or the Spurs did bear , Or by what Peers the Crowns supported were What Favourites next the Presence did remain , Or what bright Youths bore up the Royal Train How from the Temple to the Hall They past , ( Where waited for them a Stupendious Feast ) What Hecatomb fell Victims to Their Board , Or what vast Seas of Wine it did afford . And lastly , how with the vast Infinite Train , They to White-Hall , ( now Crown'd , ) return'd again ; Are Thames that would a mighty Volume ask : Nor is 't a Poets , but the Heralds task . Besides , it would more charge of time require , Then now my niggard Fate is pleas'd to spare . But having yet Survey'd the Court alone , I now would make the Peoples transports known But I ( alass ) want Language to express my own . Ten thousand Bells in one loud Consort joyn , Both Earth and Heaven it self to Entertain : Sure for this Reason they were rais'd on High , That th' Gods might better hear this Harmony . The Pleasant Musicks nimble foot-steps hear , Passing Harmoniously from Sphere to Sphere ! Which now the Starry Battlements has found , Which , Hark , reverberates , and multiplies the Sound ! They Man's Officious , & Injurious call , Who interpos'd the design'd Miracle . For Joy , their useless Ropes away they 'd throw , And Musick on their own accord bestow . Next , Loyal Fires ( the Peoples Offerings ) see ! Like Burning Groves raising their Heads on high ! As if this night was destin'd to devour , What was design'd for the next Winter Store See how it Mounts , as if 't had an intent To reach the Stagarytes Fictitious Element ! Whilst on Thames too they such vast Fire-works make , That all her Streams seem but one Flaming Lake The Frightned Gods thinking their Skies on Fire For safety to the farthest Heav'ns retire : They fear'd another Race of Gyants rose , Who now had Fire instead of Mountains chose . But when Discreeter Gods saw the intent , Instead of Thunder and Revenge , they sent A Herald to proclaim this Complement . Blest Change ! And now the Heav'nly Powers rejoyce That England does approve of their Wise Choice : And to its Throne , wrong'd Loyalty restore , Where Treason stretch'd its ugly Limbs before Being Loyal grown , Your Bliss is now compleat , For You before all Blessings had , but That ; This day you 've Crown'd a King , whose God-like Reign , Restores you the Blest Golden Age again .

A Poem on the CORONATION . FLie Envious Time ; why dost our Bliss delay ? Repair Death's & thy wrongs , & give us day The Day which from our Woes must free us all , Whom Grief would else Martyr in Charles's fall : That Ador'd Monarch , whose Illustrious Name Alone , speaks more , than all the Tongues of Fame Whose Loss , levy'd a Tax of Sighs , and Moan , And forc'd the World t' an Universal Groan . Hold , hold my Muse — The Dawn new-gilds the Skies , See where Great James our second Sun does rise And quite exhales these Vapours from our Eyes Tears , and the Sable signs of Grief , give way , Chac'd by the Beams of this most Glorious Day ; A Day , doubly design'd by Destiny To remain Sacred to Posterity . Something for Geerge's Birth was to It due , But now it is Three Kingdoms Birth-Day too , From this Coronation ●e our Lives Renew . Each Loyal Heart is struck by 'ts Sovereign Rays And fill'd at once with Gratitude and Praise . Hark! how the Streets with cheerful Shouts do Ring , Excessive Joys in ev'ry Bosom spring , And the whole Town do IO PAEANS sing . While th' Air as loath such Loyal Sounds to lose With thousand Ecchoes does prolong each close ; Behold what heaps of Hatts , aloft there fly , Like thickn'd Clouds , they steal away the Sky . T' attend this Earthly Jove , the World agrees In-landers leave their Homes , Sea-men the Seas ; Both English born , & those that Neighbours are ; With Exultation cleave the yielding Air. So in some Garden , deckt with Flora's Pride , Where all the Glories of the Spring reside , There near a Waxen Canopy we see , Thousands thus Buz about the Royal-Bee . Nature , at this Solemnity Revives , And the glad Earth by James's Infl'ence Thrives Hills , Vallies , Woods , are drest in new Attire , April at its own Beauty does Admire , The wing'd Musicians Carol in the Air , The Spacious Meadows , Green-Plush Mantles wear , Nay , the pleas'd Heav'n's without a Cloud appear Whilé all the Flowers of the Spring do meet , And , than Arabian Spices , smell more sweet , The Mighty Pan , the Mighty Pan to Greet . How sensible the Houses are , 't is He ! Who but in Arras-Gowns the King will see . Walls , Windows , Roofs , Tow'rs , Steeples , all are set With several Eyes , but the least Glimpse to get . And lo , the Costly Pomp is now in view , Which claims our Wonder , and our Homage too . The like of this Day 's State not Italy Sings , Consular Triumphs , were but petty things : Rome too as short of this in Shows , you 'll find , As her Now Glories , are from those declin'd . Triumphant Sight ! In this one Train we may Of all that 's Noble , take a full Survey . Do Arms Delight ye ? Surfeit here your View On Troops , as can th' Insulting World subdue . Nay Learning here in its Perfection shines , And Athens now to Westminster Resigns . Religion , Law , each her best Charms displays , Chear'd by the Warmth of his Indulgent Rays ; Who gave His Word , that he 'll maintain the State , His Word , Unalt'rable as the Book of Fate . Who'll say , the City Brethren , Misers be , And but beholds , their this Days Bravery ? None , none ; and by their Gallantry , all guess , Their Loyalty's the Cause of their Excess . What Rich Attire the Spirit'al Lords array ! What Massie Coronets Adorn the Lay ! Such Cloath of Gold and Silver , Kill my Brain My Opticks fail , and I grow Blind again . Arch-Angels sure , leaving their Glorious Sphere Once-more themselves have Bodify'd , and here Resolve , as English Nobles to appear . Princes who 've still been waited on , now wait And Bowing here , they count they sit in State . But stay ! — In this Terrestial Galaxy , A Glitt'ring Troop , of Beauties I descry , Who Ravish with too Bright a Tyranny . Such Lustre ne're was seen in Thetis Train , When Drest i' th' Native Jewels of the Main . At ev'ry Look I take , new Charms arise , Bright are their Diamonds , Brighter are their Eys . And in each Lovely Face , do plainly move , Un-number'd Signs of Beauty , Wit and Love : Shou'd Cold Diogenes these Fair Ones see . Pierc'd by their Darts he wou'd Enamour'd be . But what Fresh Object 's this Invades my Eye , And bids my Soul gaze there Etternally ? Assur'd I am , our Climate never held Before a Beauty so unparallel'd , All Heavenly Features joyn themselves in one , To shew their Triumph in this Face alone ; The Savages , that Worship the Suns Rise , Wou'd hate their God , if they beheld these Eyes . The Wealth She wears about her , more does hide Than it Adorns , Her Native Beauty's Pride . Mirrour of Heaven ! Wonder of the Earth ! Oh! thou Bright Goddess of Caelestial Birth ! Now Caesar's Glory Augmentable seems , Since You appear , and deign to mix your Beams 'T is She ! 'T is Englands Queen whom thus we view , The Crown , not Her , but She the Crown does Grace Before She sway'd an Empire in Her Face . Had Virgil liv'd this Mary but to see , Dido had in Oblivion Slept , and She Had giv'n his Muse , Her best Eternity . And now the Monarch of the Day 's in sight , From whom the rest receive their borrow'd Light , Who giving way , His Brighter Splendour own , As Stars do vanish at th' approach o' th' Sun . Oh! what a Flood of Virtues from Him flows ! How like a God Install'd on Earth He shows ! Thus when the Thickest Darkness Phoebus Shrowds , With greater Fulgence he breaks through the Clouds : Look on His Face , His Royal Mein but mind , And to be Traytors now , we must be blind . Mankind's Delight ! and Heavens chiefest Care , To vict'ry , as to 's Crown the Lawful Heir . The World has always Shook at His Alarms , At Sea and Land Success still Crown'd His Arms. Ye Bold Excluders , see your Injur'd Prince , And may this Sight You of your Crime convince , Crouch crouch , Rebellious Sirs , & own your Insolence Both how to Pardon , and Revenge , He knows , To Guard his Friends , and to Destroy his Foes . Down , down then at His Feet without delay , With double Loyalty His wrongs repay ; Lay , lay Him in your Hearts , and beg of Fate , He long may Reign , though He is Crown'd , but late , He shall ; for th' thing that 's slowly's sure done , And He whom Heaven designs to six on 's Throne , It is the longer sitting Him thereon . No more shall Lawless , Hair-brain'd Faction ●age , But may His Reign bring back the Golden Age. May from His Sacred Consort 's Womb Increase , Spring Present Joy , and Future Ages Peace . Let 's keep their ●ath , which He ( a Subject ) made , Who still His King Unmurmuring Obey'd . Let 's think His Foes be Ours , as so They are , Think on His Martyr'd Father , and beware . And let this Sight , ( though ended , ne're be done , But let it still , and still be Thought upon , And Thought on , ev'n to Convert Rebellion .

LONDON .