COMICAL REMARKS ON THE Public REPORTS.  

From Rome.  

THE Pious French King is become Savoys Friend, 
Report.   
And offers to yield the Affairs to Debate,  
As Umpire of which does the Pope recommend,  
Whom 'tis thought he has cunningly purchased of late.  
'Tis strange the Church Right should now be thrust in, 
Remark.   
And the War declared Holy, which so late was a Sin;  
When Religion so scanty between 'em is known;  
If the Pope may have any, the Monsieur has none.   
When two old Enemies join Forces, that there's Mischief hatching against some Body, is stolen News.   

From Paris.  

Nine Second Rate Frigates, built spick and span new, 
Report.   
At Breast join the Fleet, some Exploit to pursue:  
Prepared, not to Hector at Torbay again,  
But Challenge us nearer on Salisbury-plain.  
But yet if the King and the Commons unite, 
Remark.   
And send but an Admiral out that will fight;  
We may make 'em pay sauce for the Sheep that they steal,  
And Baise nos Culls say to Monsieur Tourvile.   
This is no ill News if Money comes in briskly, and the Fleets are equal.   

From Deal.  

'Tis sent by the Post to the Portugal Walk, 
Report.   
That the French Privateers have once had a balk;  
That instead of good Plunder, the Joy of their Souls.  
They have missed our PlateFleet, and have seized on our Coals.  
A pretty mistake, but can do them no harm, 
Remark.   
For if not enriched, they may keep themselves warm;  
And though 'tis all Dirt, in a sense taken right,  
We better can spare them the black than the white.  
Mean while in the City, their Joys are at full,  
These Forty Sail Laden with Bullion and Wool,  
Will make them so generous, that when 've Surveyed,  
The next happy Votes, for the new Royal Aid,  
To pleasure the King, their dear Gold they'll relax,  
Nor bate him his Customs, nor grudge him his Tax.   
Good News for the City, with a small Jerk at their Purses.   

From Plymouth.  

For want of good Convoy, by numbers oppressed, 
Report.   
The Dutch have lost Ships by the scowrers of Breast;  
Which shows Chance of War is to lose as to win,  
Since last Week, 'tis said, they two Prizes brought in;  
One laden with Brandy, for Comfort and Ease,  
The other with Salt Herrings, Butter and Cheese.  
What's better than Butter, in which they delight; 
Remark.   
Or Cheese, dear as Butter, to cause 'em to fight:  
Tho Brandy and Herrings do purchase their praise,  
Cause Brandy the Salt of the Herrings allays:  
Yet Butter their Bellies much better does sin,  
Their Bellies, when Buttered, have Courage at will:  
And to make my Verse Chime with a clink in the close,  
For Butter, they better do batter their Foes.   
This fat News makes two sort of Mouths water, Cheesemongers, and a part of the Foot Guards.   

From Whitehall.  

From hence 'tis reported there lately was sent, 
Report.   
An Order of Council● to Try Mrs. Br— t,  
Accused for receiving, as Fame loudly Sings,  
Strange Letters in Ciphers, containing shrewd things.  
A Priest late Converted, has thought fit to tell us,  
The Warming-pan Plot of the late little Wallus,  
Which she to improve, Correspondence did use,  
With Foreign Abettors in close Billet Doux.  
Did ever a Plot to a Mischief extend, 
Remark.   
But always a Woman would be at one end  
To them a Staunch ●ill can be ne'er out of Season,  
They will be Intreagued, tho' the Case be High Treason.  
But now if the Judges should be so precise,  
To Sentence her for it, If I might Advise,  
She of the Indictment a Copy should draw,  
And bring in her Husband to prove 'tis no Law.   
If the News Paper should chance to Lie, here's a good Jest spoiled now.   

From Brentford.  

A Limb of the Law, near a hundred years old, 
Report.   
Has took an occasion to die of a Cold;  
For whom floods of Tears do so gush from all Eyes,  
'tis thought, in the Country, the Waters will rise.  
The loss is so great that it reaches to me. 
Remark.   
That now writ his Epitaph without a Fee:  
If any Inquire who is under this Stone,  
Let him know he's not Dead, but the Circuit is gone,  
In Dirt fix foot deep, as he still used to be;  
He's trudged with the Judges to get a good Fee.  
Gold this side, and that side, his Judgement could draw,  
He best could Plead Nonsense, and best make it Law;  
To Right, or to Ruin, his Skill was best known,  
And careful of every Man's Heirs but his own.   
Few Words are best, and I think I deserve a Ring for these.   

From the Court of Requests.  

The Senate, the Crowns proper Charge to disburse, 
Report.   
As proof of their Loyalty open their Purse.  
The King's Royal Speech they with Candour receive;  
Nor can he ask more than they're ready to give.  
Best proof of Obedience by Money is shown, 
Remark.   
The ablest support of the Law and the Crown.  
If Money be given, we may shake off our Fears, 
Poitiers, where Edward Prince of Wales won a great Victory over the French, and took the King Prisoner.   
Whilst the French find the Fate as before at Poitiers.  
'Tis that, does our consequent blessings prepare,  
The life blood of Peace, as the Nerve of the War;  
Who then of his Bullion would tell a vain Tale,  
Or brag of his Toping in Plate, his strong Ale,  
When Coined into Money it safety might bring,  
To his Country, Himself, his Religion and King.   
Good News to Men of Sense, and pleasing to all that are not Jacobites, or Madmen.    

LONDON: Printed and are to be sold by Randal Taylor, near Stationers-Hall. 1690.