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 â—assion III. On those Words of the Psalm God chastiâ—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
A COLLECTION OF 86 Loyal Poems All of them written upon the Two late PLOTS VIZ The Horrid Salamanca PLOT in 1678. 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. Printed by N. T. at the Entrance into the Old-Spring-Garden near Charing-Cross 1685. THE PREFACE TO THE READER READER I Here present Thee with the LOYAL POEMS that have severally scatter'd in Print and ventur'd most of them to Peep into the World even in the Highest of Dangers and worst of Times when the very Pestilential Air of Poison'd Senates and Infected Kingdoms rag'd highest and Threatned Fatallest being a whole Collection of all that durst look abroad since the first Apparition of all the Popish Hobgoblins either contain'd in or raised by that unparallel'd Piece of Discovery the Salamanca Narrative That Master-piece of Hocus Pocus where the Dextrous Operator Titus so much out-went every little Brother of the Slight of Hand the Puny Juglers of the Age that whereas Their feebler Art can only swallow Knives or Daggers This greater Hictius Doctius could Gorge or Disgorge Fire-Balls and Black-Bills nay Squadrons and Armies either above or below Ground and tho with no less than three Kingdoms for their Spectators scarce one English Eye-sight quick enough or one Head-piece deep enough to detect the Legerdomain But that Egyptian sort of Darkness being a little over and our English Pericranes having either new Brains put in or our Old ones new washt or some thing like it Thanks to the â—are and Conduct of our Royal Exorcists two of the Best and Wisest of Kings who are at present dispossest of those Popish Demons and Spectres that so All-to-be Devil'd us whilst the Fanatical Incantations that rais'd them are both Detected and Baffled I confess indeed that the greatest part of these Poems have been of my Own Printing and Publication and truly some of them at no little Charge That particular Poem called A Dialogue betwixt the Devil and the Ignoramus Doctor c. Having Cost me little less than Forty Pounds For the Worthy Robin Hog the Engineer of the Faction and the Assistant Swearing-Master to the Great Beuk-blawer Titus partly in Vindication of the Whig Dagon the Popish Plot was Generously pleas'd to Out-Law me in the Crown-Office for Printing that Dialogue Together with another as Mortal a Crime in my Weekly Intelligence Number 60. viz. For publishing the Guild-hall Rioters Two Sins let me tell you enough either of them alone to pull down his Severest Vengeance For in the first place the Reputation of the Doughty Author of Invisible Commissions Screw'd Guns and Silver Bullets was so nice a point and so tender a Concern to so Violent a Plot. Zealot as Robin that nothing less than utter Destruction was deserv'd from him by so Insolent a Transgressor as my self for Daring so much as to Doubt the Gigantick Veracities of his Adored Gamaliel Titus And then for that second as Hainous a Guilt of mine my Exposing the Guild-hall Rioters Oh Monstrum Horrendum my Daring to touch the Whig Honour and Innocence of those Schismatical Confronters of Authority that under the Umbrage of Bethelite Sheriffs and Barnardiston Juries were lobouring so hard in the old Road of Religion and Liberty as to be almost got up to the old Perch again of mounting Rebels upon Thrones and Monarchs upon Scaffolds My Affronting those Dear and Darling Repulican Boutefeus in Vindicating the Honour of the Matchless Sir John Moore that most Indefatigable of Patriots and Best of Magistrates whose Ever-memorable Resolution Loyalty and Success alone almost turn'd the whole Ballance and I may without Flattery say Effectively Secur'd even Monarchy it self All this I say was so Over-damnable an Offence to the Constitution and Kidneys of little Robin that 't is not to be wonder'd if it raised his Fiercest and most Implacable Dudgeon against me But alas those two fore-mentioned Unpardonable Faults alone have not suffer'd his Severest Rebuke but likewise my Publication of the Hue and Cry after Titus Oates when turn'd from Whitehall The Poor Prisoners Lamentation for the loss of Sheriff Bethel Let Oliver now be forgotten With Oates's Manifesto or a Dialogue between Titus Oates and the Dr. of Salamanca have all felt the the same Lash and provoked the same Mortal Indignation from him For alas the least Attempt or Venture of Unmasking or Exposing of Imposture Fanaticism and Villany or the least Defence of the Government Monarchy or Succession was so Capital a Crime to the Offended Robin that he was ever presently upon my Back upon the least Transgression of that too Criminal kind and never left me till with many a Zealous Puff and Blow he was sure to Light the Coals and Burn my Fingers for 't These Gentlemen have been my Faults and this Prosecutor my Scourge for them And truly to give him his duâ— and show you truly the Considerable Figure he has made in the World considering the many Misfortunes that have attended the Garagantua Affidavit Heroe TITUS and how the Popish Kings-Bench Cloyster Immured that quondam St. Omerian True Protestant and Silenced that never to be forgotten Oracle whilst Poxes Gibbets Goals and Beggary and other such like Accidental Mundane Calamities have scattered and discomfited the Dugdales Tubervils Macnemara's Commine's and the rest of the Evidential Forces Considering I say all this Universal Defeat and Mortality our single Robin was resolved to Supply them all and as the Terrible Goliah Champion of the whole Party stept forth with his Fore-head of Brass and the rest of his Armour of Impudence and with an open mouth'd Defyance bellows Death and Damnation to every man that durst Love either Truth Honour or Honesty And to shew you that he wanted neither Courage nor Conduct for such an Undertaking he has sufficiently manifested by his long and daily Atchievements his great Abilities in both kinds when dreading neither Evangelists on one Hand nor Devil on the other he began to Swear through Brick-walls no less than two years before the Doctor Swore through so much as one Key-hole And truly not to be Idle in any Thriving Vocation in the days of Yore he played Sir William Wallers Jackall and with a full Cry of Popery and Idolatry bunted down Gold-Chains and Apostle Spoons with him for Beads and Crucifixes and Old Jacobusses for Peter-pence and so played at Pick-pocketing and Burglaring under the cloak of True Protestant Justiceing with him as well as the Worshipful Sanctified Land-Pyrate himself By such and many other Feats of Activity having well lined his Pockets and thereby not a little pufft up his Pride he had through long Use and Practice so far surmounted the Silly Punctillioâ—s of Justice and Conscience as a thing so much below him that he boggled at nothing tho never so Villanous to gratifie either his Interest or Revenge
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 VVhy '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 VVight 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 VVhilst on the Purpl'd Ocean thou didst ride And tack about still with the Wind and
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 Neâ—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
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 â—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 â— 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
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 Parâ—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 â—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 â—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