The Case is Altered now: OR, THE CONVERSION OF ANTHONY, King of Poland, Published for Satisfaction of the Sanctifyed Brethren.  

Even as a Lion, with his Paws upreared,  
As he would tore 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 dared cry, God save the King!  
Thou, my dear Titus, and the Popish Plot,  
Didst fire my Zeal, and make my Head so hot,  
That then I whispered loud into the Nation,  
Now, now's the nick of Time for Reformation.  
You huffed and hectored at a lofty rate,  
When Parliaments of your own Mettle sat;  
As if you had o'ergrown the King and Laws.  
And were beginning a New Good Old Cause.  
But Remedy in Season did appear,  
And stopped the Fury of your hot Career.  
Thus for a while I danced to my own Pipe.  
Till I was grown Association-ripe.  
But than Addresses from each County came,  
And Loyalty did soon put out the Flame.  
Then was the time, that Tyburn claimed his Due;  
But had it not for want of such as You:  
Yet it had some small Satisfaction given,  
By the deserved Death of Traitor Stephen.  
Cabals, and Factious Clubs so rife were grown,  
And old Rebellious Seed so thick were sown,  
I hoped ere this, the Day would be my own.  
In Coffeehouses you did domineer,  
And prattled Treason without Wit or Fear.  
Reason and Loyalty you overruled;  
And settled Nations, whilst your Coffee cooled.  
The Point you argued with a surly Face,  
And he that did not yield, and give you Place,  
Was termed by you a Tory, void of Grace.  
One House, one Town, one Kingdom fierce could hold  
Tory and Whigg, Sir Whigg was grown so bold.  
For this Recital, Sirs, pray do not blame us,  
We ne'er baulked 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 burned;  
But, Heaven be thanked, the Scales at last are turned:  
The Wheell, at length, is moved a little round,  
And its worst Pieces lowest to the Ground.  
The State has found a way to cool our Favours,  
Quench our new Lights, and curb our strong Endeavours;  
And we are taught Compliance 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 Precedent for all the rest.  
Let Faction cease, and Loyalty get Ground.  
T●●l not ●ore Whigg be in the Nation found:  
Then w●le rejoice, as in the Days of Yore,  
And Salamancas shall be known no more.    
FINIS.  

LONDON, Printed for J. P. in the Year, 1683.