AN ADDRESS TO THE Lion in the Tower.  
THINE only Friend on Earth (the Hangman) stays  
With Halter (ready Noosed) to end thy Days;  
And give some Respite (to thy Guilty Breast)  
(From Ghosts) that Haunt Thee since thou wert i'th' WEST.  
Those Shades that (stab thee) and disturb thy sleep,  
When from thy guilty Sheets thou dar'st not peep,  
Nor open Claring Eyes, lest thou shouldst See  
Some of Those Thousand Western GHOSTS; by Thee  
With Bloody Mouth doomed to Untimely End.  
GUINEAS (that sometimes would make thee a Friend  
To those thou Hatedst;) would not (then) suffice,  
Thy Cruelty out-bids thy Avarice,  
(That Avarice) by which thou used to Steer,  
When on thy Sullen Bench at WESTMINSTER.  
STRANGE! Thou shouldst derogate from all thy Tribe!  
Oh, Ho! The Broad-Seal was the Greatest Bribe!  
Suetonius says, that NERO (thus) would come  
In's Shirt (New-sled from Bed) to the next Room;  
Where his Guards watched, frighted (as well as he)  
A Thing in WHITE, with Ghastly Looks, to see;  
Hairs bolt Upright; a Ghost, they thought it; for  
(Thus Guized) they could not know their Emperor,  
His Visage was so changed: Oh Ghastly Sight!  
The Stoutest YEOMEN of his Guards to Fright!  
They fled from It, thinking it was some DEVIL,  
(Or Hellish Ghost that Walked; 'twas one as EVIL;  

As bloody and as bad all-out as HE,  
As bloody and as bad (almost) as THEE,  
Or the Third Richard, th' best of all you Three.   
Richard and Nero too, (Vile Men!) Did Slay  
Their nearest Kindred; This,— brave Seneca;  
The other, Worse; but HE ordained good LAWS,  
Which thou hast from the groundsel razed; because  
The Tempting BENCHES bribed thy Soul; for rather  
Than not come there, thou wouldst have Sold thy Father:  
Nay, (like POPE Sylvester, thou wast so evil)  
Both SOLDIER and BODY freely to the Devil.  
Methinks I see thee March (with Guards) to th' WEST,  
(With Bawling Roaring Lion's Mouth thou'rt blest,)  
Gaping and Foaming, Eager to be there,  
To Gorge with Blood thy Guilty MAW; for Here  
Thou ne'er couldst Glutted be; but CATCH may give  
Thee Blood enough, when thou shalt Cease to live.  
Let True Repontance Cheer thee when thou Hangs;  
Oh that thy Hell on Earth may end thy PANGS!   

LONDON: Printed by G. L. at the Two Swans without Bishopsgate. 1689.