DIRECTIONS TO A PAINTER.  By Sir JOHN DENHAM. 
NAy Painter, if thou dar'st design that fight,  
Which Waller only courage had to write,  
If thy bold hands can without shaking draw  
What even th'Actors trembled at when they saw,  
Enough to make thy Colours change like theirs,  
And all thy Pencils bristle like their Hairs.  
First in fit distance of the prospect main,  
Paint Allen tilting at the Coast of Spain;  
Heroic act! and never heard till now!  
Stemming of hercules pillars with the prow!  
And how he left his Ships the Hills to waft,  
And with new Sea-marks Cales and Dover grafted.  
Next let the flaming London come in view,  
Like Nero's Rome, burnt to rebuild it new;  
What less'r Sacrifice than this, was meet  
To offer for the safety of the Fleet?  
Blow one ship up, another thence will grow:  
See what free Cities and wise Courts can do!  
So some old Merchant, to insure his Name,  
Marries afresh, and Courtiers share the Dame:  
So whatsoe'er is broke, the Servants paid,  
And Glasses are more durable than Plate.  
No mayor till now, so rich a Pageant feigned,  
Nor one Barge all the Companies contained.  
Then Painter, draw Cerulean Coventry,  
Keeper, or rather Chancellor o'th' Sea,  
And more exactly to express his hue,  
Use nothing but Vltra-Marinish Blue.  
To pay his fees, the silver Trumpet spends,  
And Boat-swains whistle, for his place depends.  
Pilots in vain repeat their Compass over,  
Until of him they learn that one point more.  
The constant Magnet to the Pole doth hold,  
Steel to the Magnet, Coventry to Gold.  
Muscovy sells us Pitch, and Hemp, and Tar;  
Iron and Copper, Sweden; Munster, War;  
Ashly, Prize; Warwick, Customs; Cart'ret, Pay;  
But Coventry doth sell the Fleet away.  
Now let our Navy stretch its Canvas Wings,  
Swollen like his purse, with Tacking like his strings,  
By slow degrees of the increasing gale,  
First under sail, and after under sale:  
Then in kind visit unto Opdam's Gout,  
Hedge the Dutch in, only to let them out.  
So huntsmen fair unto the Hares give Law,  
First find them, and then civilly withdraw.  
That the blind Archer, when they take the Seas,  
The Hambrough-Convoy may betray with ease.  
So, that the fish may more securely bite,  
The Angler baits the River over night.  
But Painter, now prepare t' enrich thy piece,  
Pencil of Ermines, Oil of Ambergris:  
See where the Duchess with triumphant trail  
Of numerous Coaches, Harwich does assail!  
So the Land-Crabs, at Natures kindly call,  
Down to engender to the Sea do crawl.  
See then the Admiral with Navy whole,  
To Harwich through the Ocean carry Coal:  
So Swallows buried in the Sea at Spring,  
Return to Land with Summer in their Wing.  
One thrifty Ferry-boat of Mother Pearl,  
Sufficed, of old, the Citherean Girl;  
Yet Navies are but properties when here,  
A small Sea-Mask, and built to court your Dear:  
Three Goddesses in one, Pallas for ar●,  
Venus for sport, but juno in your heart.  
O Duchess! if thy Nuptial pomp was mean,  
'Tis paid with interest in thy Naval Scene.  
Never did Roman Mark within the Nile,  
So feast the fair Egyptian Crocodile;  
Nor the Venetian Duke with such a state  
The Adriatic marry, at that rate.  
Now Painter, spare thy weaker Art; forbear  
To draw her parting passions, and each tear;  
For Love, alas! hath but a short delight:  
The Sea, the Dutch, the King, all call to fight.  
She therefore the Duke's person recommends  
To Brunker, Pen, and Coventry, ●e● friends;  
To Pen much, Brunker more, most Coventry:  
For they she knew were all more afraid than he:  
Of flying Fishes one had saved the Fin,  
And hoped by this he through the air might spin▪  
The other thought he might avoid the Knell,  
By the invention of the Diving Bell;  
The ●●i●d had tried it, and affirmed a Cable  
Coyl● round about him, was impenetrable.  
But the●e ●he Duke rejected, only chose  
T● keep far off; let others interpose.  
Rupert, that knew no fear, but health did want,  
Kept state suspended in a Chair volant;  
All save his head shut in that wooden case,  
He she●'d but like a broken Wether glass;  
But armed with the whole Lion Cap-a-Chin,  
Did represent the Hercules within.  
Dear shall the Dutch his twinging anguish know▪  
And see what valour whet with pain can do.  
Cursed in the ●e●n time be that treacherous jael,  
That through h●s princely Temples drove the Nail.  
Rupert resolved to fight it like a Lion,  
And Sandwich hoped to fight it like Arion;  
He to prolong his Life in the dispute,  
And charm the Holland Pirates, tuned his Lute,  
Till some judicious Dolphin might approach,  
And land him safe and sound as any Roach.  
Now Painter, reassume thy Pencils care,  
Thou hast but skirmished yet, now fight prepare.  
And draw the Battle terrible to show,  
As the last Judgement was to Anneslow.  
Fi●st let our Navy scour through silver froth,  
The Ocean's burden, and the Kingdoms both;  
Wh●●e very bulk may represent its birth,  
From Hide and Paston, burdens of the Earth;  
H— whose transcendent paunch so swells of late,  
That he the Rupture seems of Law and State;  
Paston whose belly bears more Millions  
Than Indian Carrocks, and contains more tuns.  
Let shoals of Porpoises on every side  
Wonder in swimming by our Oak● out-vy'd;  
And the Sea fowl all gaze, t' behold a thing  
So va●●, mo●e swift and strong than they of wing.  
But with presaging George, yet keep in sight,  
And follow for the Relics of a fight.  
Then let the Dutch with well-dissembled fear,  
Or bold despair, more than we wish, draw near:  
At which our Gallants, to the Sea but tender,  
And more to fight, their easy Stomaches render,  
Wi●h breasts so panting, that at every st●oke  
You m●ght have felt their heart's b●a● through the Oak:  
Wh●●e one concerned in the Interval  
Of straining choler, thus did vent his Gall:  
Noah be damned! and all his Race accursed,  
Who in Sea brine did pickle Timber first!  
What though he planted Vines, he Pines cut down,  
He taught us how to drink, and how to drown:  
He first built Ships, and in his Wooden Wall,  
Saving but eight, e'er since endangered all.  
And thou Dutch Necromantic Friar, be damned,  
And in thine own first Mortar-piece be rammed!  
Who first invented Canon in thy Cell,  
Nitre from Earth, and Brimstone fetch from Hell.  
But damned and treble damned be Clarendine,  
Our seventh Edward, with all his House and Line!  
Who to divert the danger of the War  
With Bristol, ●ounds us on the Hollander:  
Fool-coated Gown-man! sells, to fight with Hance,  
Dunkirk; dismantling Scotland, quarrels France:  
And hopes he now hath business shaped, and power  
T' outlast our Lives or his, and scape the Tower;  
And that he yet may see, ere he go down,  
His dear Clarinda circled in a Crown.  
By this time both the Fleets in reach dispute,  
And each the other mortally salute:  
Draw pensive Neptune biting of his Thumbs,  
To think himself a Slave, whoever o'ercomes.  
The frighted Nymphs retreating to their Rocks.  
Beating their blue Breasts, tearing their gr●en Locks.  
Paint Echo slain, only th' alternate sound  
From the repeating Cannon do●h rebound.  
Opdam ●ails placed on his Naval Throne,  
Assuming Courage greater than his own;  
Makes to the Duke, and threatens him from far,  
To nail him to his Board's, like a Petar;  
But in the vain attempt, took fire too soon,  
And flies up in his ship to catch the Moon.  
Mounsieurs like Rockets mount aloft, and crack  
In thousand sparks, then dancingly fal● back.  
Yet ere this happened, Destiny allowed  
Him his revenge, to make his death more proud;  
A fatal Bullet from his side did range,  
And battered Lawson: Oh too dear exchange!  
He led our Fleet that day too short a space,  
But lost his knee; since died in Glory's Race:  
Lawson! whose Valour beyond Fate did go,  
And still fights Opdam in the L●ke below.  
The Duke himself, though Pe● did not forget,  
Yet was not out of dangers random set.  
Falmouth was there, I know not what to act;  
Some say 'twas to grow Duke too, any contract:  
An untaught Bullet in its wanton scope,  
Dashes Him▪ all to pieces, and his Hope.  
Such was his rise, such was his fall, unprais`d;  
A chance-shot sooner took him than Chance raised:  
His shattered Head the fearless Duke distains,  
And gave the last first-proof that he had brains.  
Bartlet had heard it soon, and thought not good  
To venture more of Royal Harding`s' Blood:  
To be immortal he was not of age,  
And did enun now the Indian Prize presage;  
And judg`d it safe and decent, cost what cost,  
To lose the day, since his dear Brother`ss lost:  
With his whole Squadron strait away he bore,  
And like good Boy, promised to fight no more.  
The Dutch Auranea careless, at us sailed,  
And promised to do what Opdam failed;  
Smith to the Duke doth intercept her way.  
And cleaves there closer than a Remora:  
The Captain wondered, and withal disdained,  
So strongly by a thing so small, detain`d,  
And in a raging bravery to him runs,  
They stab their ships with one another's Guns:  
They fight so near, it seems to be on ground,  
And even the Bullets meeting, Bullets wound.  
The noise, the smoke, the fire, the sweat, the blood,  
●s not to be expressed, nor nnderstood.  
Each Captain from his quarter-deck commands,  
They wave their bright Swords glittering in their hands.  
All Luxury of Wa●, all man can do  
●n a Sea-fight, did pass between them two:  
But one must conquer, whosoever fight,  
Smith taketh the Giant, and is made a Knight.  
Marlbrough that knew, and durst do more than all,  
F●lls undistinguished by an Iron-Ball:  
Dear Lord! but born under a Star ingrate!  
No Soul more clear, nor no more gloomy fate!  
Who would set up Wars Trade that means to thrive?  
Death picks the Valiant out, Cowards survive:  
What the Brave merit, th' Impudent do vaunt,  
And none's rewarded but the Sycophant:  
Hence all his Life he against Fortune fenc`d,  
Or not well known, or not well recompensed:  
But envy not this praise 〈◊〉 his memory,  
None mo●e prepared was, or less fit to die.  
Rupert did others and himself excel;  
Holms, Tydiman, Minus; bravely Sanson fell.  
What others did, let one omitted, blame,  
I shall record, whoever brings in his Name:  
But unless after stories disagree,  
Nine o●ely came to fight, the rest to see.  
Now all conspire unto the Dutchman's lo●s;  
The wind, the fire, we, they themselves do cross.  
When a sweet sleep began the Duke to drown,  
And with ●oft Diadems his Temples crown:  
And fi●st He order all the rest to watch,  
A●d They the Foe, whilst He a Nap doth catch:  
But lo, Brunkar by a secre instinct,  
Slept not, nor needed, he all day had winked.  
The Duke in bed, he then first draws his steel,  
Whose virtue makes the misled Compass wheel.  
So ere He waked▪ both Fleets were innocent:  
And Brunkar Member is of Parliament.  
And now, dear Painter, after pains, like those,  
'Twere time that I and thou too do repose.  
But all our Navy scaped so sound of Limb,  
That a sho●t space seru`d to refresh and trim;  
And a tame Fleet of theirs doth Convoy want,  
Laden with both the Indies, and Levant:  
P●int but this one Scene more, the World`s our own,  
And Halcyon Sandwich doth command alone:  
To Bergen we with confidence made haste,  
And th' secret spoils by hope already taste;  
Though Clifford in the Character appear  
Of Supra-Cargo to our Fleet and their▪  
Wearing a Signet ready to clap on,  
And seize all for his Master Arlington.  
Ruyter whose little Squadron skimed the Seas,  
And wasted our remotest Coloneys;  
With Ships all foul, returned upon our way;  
Sandwich would not disperse, nor yet delay;  
And therefore like Commander grave and wise,  
To scape his sight and flight, shut both his Eyes,  
And for more state and sureness, cutting true,  
The left Eye closeth, the right Montague;  
And even Clifford proffered in his zeal,  
To make all safe, t' apply to both his Seal.  
Ulysses so, till Siren's he had past,  
Would by his Mates be pinioned to the Ma●t.  
Now can our Navy view the wished Port,  
But there (to see the fortune!) was a Fort:  
Sandwich would not be beaten, nor yet beat;  
Fools only fight, the Prudent use to treat.  
His Cousin Montague by Court-disaster,  
Dwindled into the wooden Horse`s' Master,  
To speak of peace seemed amongst all most proper,  
Had Talbot then treated of nought but Copper:  
O● what are Forts, when void of Ammuition?  
With friends or foes what would we more condition?  
Yet we three days, till the Dutch furnished all,  
Men, Powder, Money, Cannon,— treat with Wall!  
Then Tydiman, finding the Danes would not,  
Sent in six Captains bravely to be shot.  
And Montague, though dressed like any Bride,  
And aboard him too, yet was reached and died:  
Sad was the chance, and yet a deeper care  
Wrinkled his Membrains under forehead fair.  
The Dutch Armado yet had th' impudence  
To put to Sea, to waft their Merchants thence;  
For as if all their ships of Walnut were,  
The more we beat them, still the more they bear.  
But a good Pilot, and a favouring Wind,  
Brings Sandwich back, and once again did blind.  
Now gentle Painter, ere we leap on shore,  
With thy last strokes ruffle a tempest over;  
As if in our reproach, the Wind and Seas  
Would undertake the Dutch, while we take ease:  
The Seas the spoils within our Hatches throw,  
The Winds both Flee●s into our Mouths do blow:  
Strew all their Ships along the shore by ours,  
As easily to be gather▪ d up as Flowers:  
But Sandwich fears for Merchants to mistake  
A Man of War, and among Flowers a Snake.  
Two Indian ships pregnant with Eastern Pearl,  
And Diamonds, sat th' Officers and Earl:  
Then warning of our Fleet, he it divides  
Into the Ports, and so to Oxford rides.  
Mean while the Dutch uniting, to our shames,  
Ride all insulting o'er the Downs and Thames!  
Now treating Sandwich seems the fittest choice  
For Spain, there to condole, and to rejoice:  
He meets the French; but to avoid all harms  
Ships to ●he Groyn: Embassies bear no Arms:  
There let him languish a long Quarantain,  
And ne'er to England come, till he be clean.  
Thus having ●ought, we know not why as yet,  
We've done we know not what, nor what we get:  
If to espouse the Ocean all this pains;  
Princes unite, and do forbid the Bains:  
If to discharge fanatics, this makes more;  
For all fanatics are, when they are poor:  
Or if the House of Commons to repay,  
Their Prize-Commissions are transferred away:  
But for triumphant Check-stones if, and shell  
For Duchess Closet, 't hath succeeded well.  
If to make Parliaments as odious pass,  
Or to reserve a standing force, alas!  
Or if, as just, ORANGE to reinstate,  
Instead of that, he is regenerate:  
And with four Millions vainly given as spent,  
And with five Millions more of detriment,  
Our sum amounts yet only to have won  
A bastard Orange for Pimp Arlington.  
Now may Historians argue con and pro;  
Denham says thus; though always Waller so:  
And he good Man, in his long sheet and staff,  
This penance did for Cromwel's Epitaph:  
And his next Theme must be o'th' Duke's Mistress,  
Advice to draw Madam l' Edificatress.  
Henceforth, O Gemini! two Duke's Command,  
Castor and Pollux, Aumarle and Cumberland.  
Since in one ship, it had been fit they'd went  
In Petty's Double-keeled Experiment.   

TO THE KING.  By Sir JOHN DENHAM. 
IMperial Prince! King of the Seas and Isles!  
Dear Object of our joy, and Heavens smiles!  
What boots it that thy Light doth gild our days,  
A●d we lie basking in thy milder Rays;  
While swarms of Infects, from thy warmth begun,  
Our Land devour, and intercept our Sun?  
Thou, like Ioves Minos, rul'st a greater Crect;  
And for its hundred Cities, countest thy Fleet.  
Why wilt thou that state- Daedalus allow,  
Who builds the Bull, a Labrinth and a Cow?  
If thou art Minos, be a judge severe,  
And in's own Maze confine the Engineer▪  
O may our Sun, since he too nigh presumes,  
Melt the soft Wax wherewith he imps his plumes!  
And may he falling leave his hated Name  
Unto those Seas his War hath set on flame  
From that Enchanter having cleared thine Eyes,  
Thy native sight will pierce within the Skies,  
And view those Kingdoms calm with joy and Light,  
Where's Universal Triumph, but no Fight.  
Since both from Heaven thy Race and Power descend,  
Rule by its pattern there to reascend.  
Let justice only awe, and Battle cease:  
Kings are but Cards in War, they're Gods in Peace▪   

DIRECTIONS TO A PAINTER.  By Sir JOHN DENHAM. 

SAndwich in Spain now, and the Duke in love,  
Let's with new Generals a new Painter prove:  
lily's a Dutchman, danger's in his Art,  
His Pencils may Intelligence impart.  
Thou Gibson, that amongst the Navy small  
Of Muscle-shells, commandest Admiral,  
Thyself so slender, that thou show'st no more  
Than Barnacle new hatched of them before:  
Come mix thy Water-colours, and express,  
Drawing in little, what we yet do less.  
First paint me George and Rupert rattling far  
Both in one Box, like the two Dice of War;  
And let the terror of their linked Name,  
Fly through the Air like Chain-shot, tearing Fame:  
jove in one Cloud did scarcely ever wrap  
Lightning so fierce, but never such a clap.  
United Generals sure are th' only spell  
Wherewith United Provinces to quell:  
Alas, even they, though shelled in treble Oak,  
Will prove an Addle Egg, with double Yolk.  
And therefore next uncouple either Hound,  
And loo them at two Hares ere one be found:  
Rupert to Beaufort; halloo! ah there Rupert:  
Like the fantastic hunting of St. Hubert,  
When he with airy Hounds, and Horn of Air,  
Pursues by Fountain-bleau the witchy Hare.  
Deep providence of State! that could so soon  
Fight Beaufort here, ere he had quit Taloon.  
So have I seen, ere Humane Quarrels rise,  
Fore-boding Meteors combat in the Skies.  
But let the Prince to fight with Rumour go,  
The Gen'ral meets a more substantial Foe:  
Ruyter he spies, and full of youthful heat▪  
Though half their number, thinks the odds too great.  
The Fowler watching so his watery spot,  
And more the Fowl, hopes for the better shot.  
Though such a Limb was from his Navy torn,  
He found no weakness yet, like Samson shorn;  
But swollen with sense of former Glory won,  
Thought Monk must be by Albemarle outdone:  
Little he knew with the same Armand Sword,  
How far the Gentleman out-cuts the Lord.  
Ruyter, inferior unto none for Heart,  
Superior now in Number and in Art;  
Asked if He thought, as once our Rebel-Nation,  
To conquer Theirs too, with a Declaration  
And threatens, though he now so proudly sail,  
He shall tread back his Iter Boreale:  
This said, he the short period, ere it ends,  
With Iron-Words from Brazen-Mouths extends:  
Monk yet prevents him, ere the Navies meet,  
And charges in himself alone a Fleet;  
And with so quick and frequent motion wound  
His murdering sides about, the Ship seemed round;  
And the Exchanges of his Circling Tire,  
Like whirling Hoops, showed of triumphant Fire.  
Single He doth at their whole Navy aim,  
And shoots them through a Porcupine of Flame.  
In noise so regular his Cannons met,  
You'd think that Thunder was to Music set:  
Ah had the rest but kept a time as true,  
What Age could such a Martial Consort show!  
The listening Air unto the distant shore,  
Through secret Pipes conveys the tuned roar;  
Till as the Echoes, vanishing, abate,  
Men feel a dead sound like the pulse of State.  
If Fate expire, let Monk her place supply,  
His Guns determine who shall live or die.  
But Victory doth always hate a Rant;  
Valour's her Brave, but Skill is her Gallant:  
Ruyter no less with virtuous Envy burns,  
And Prodigies for Miracles returns:  
Yet he observed how still his Iron-Balls  
Recoiled in vain against our Oaken-Walls;  
How the hard Pelle●s fell away as dead,  
By our enchanted Timber fillipped.  
Leave then, said he, th' invulnerable Keel,  
we'll find they'●e feeble, like Achilles' Heel:  
He quickly taught, pours in continual Clouds  
Of chained Dilemmas through our sinewed Shrouds,  
Forests of Masts fall with their rude embrace,  
Our stiff Sails mashed, and netted into Lace;  
Till our whole Navy lay their wanton mark,  
Nor any ship could sail but as the Ark.  
Shot in the wing, so at the Powder's call,  
The disappointed Bird doth fluttering fall.  
Yet Monk disabled, still such courage shows,  
That none into his mortal gripe dare close:  
So an old Bustard, maimed yet loath to yield▪  
Duels the Fowler in Newmarket field.  
But since he found it was in vain to fight,  
He imps his plumes the best he can for flight.  
This, Painter, were a Noble Task to tell,  
What indignation his Great Breast did swell!  
Not Virtuous Men unworthily abused,  
Not Constant Lover without cause refused,  
Not honest Merchant broke, nor skilful Player  
H●st off the Stage, nor Sinners in despair;  
Not Parents mocked, not Favourites disgraced,  
Not Rump by Monk or Oliver displaced,  
Not Kings deposed, nor Prelates ere they die,  
Feel half the Rage of Generals when they Fly.  
Ah rather than transmit th'story to Fame,  
Draw Curtains, Gentle Artist, o'er the shame:  
Cashier the memory of Dutell, raised up  
To taste, instead of Death, his Highness' Cup:  
And if the thing were true, yet paint it not,  
How Bartlet, as he long deserved, was shot;  
Though others, that surveyed the Corpse so clear,  
Said he was only petrified for fear:  
If so, th`hard Statue Mummi`d without Gum,  
Might the Dutch Balm have spar`d, & English Tomb.  
Yet if thou wilt, paint MINNS turn`d all to Soul,  
And the Great HARMAN charkt almost to Coal;  
And JORDAIN old, worthy thy Pencils pain,  
Who all the while held up the Ducal Train:  
But in a dark Cloud cover Askew, when  
He quit the Prince to embark in Loeustein;  
And wounded Ships, which we immortal boast,  
Now first led captive to an Hostile Coast.  
But most with story of his Hand and Thumb▪  
Conceal (as Honour would) his Grace's Bum,  
When the rude Bullet a large Collop tore  
Out of that Buttock never turned before:  
Fortune (it seems) would give him by that Lash,  
Gentle correction for his fight so rash.  
But should the Rump perceive't, they'd say that Mars  
Had now revenged them upon Aumarle's Arse.  
The long disaster better over to vail,  
Paint only jonas three days in the Whale;  
For no less time did conquering Ruyter chaw  
Our flying Gen'ral in his spongy Jaw.  
Then draw the youthful Perseus all in haste,  
From a Sea-beast to free the Virgin chaste;  
But neither riding Pegasus for speed,  
Nor with the Gorgon shielded at his need:  
So Rupert the Sea-Dragon did invade,  
But to save George himself, and not the Maid;  
And though arriving late, he quickly missed  
Even Sails to fly, unable to resist.  
Not Greenland Seamen that survive the fright  
Of the cold Chaos, and half eternal Night,  
So gladly the returning Sun adore,  
Or run to spy the next years Fleet from shore,  
Hoping yet once within the Oily side  
Of the fat Whale, again their Spears to hide:  
As our glad Fleet, with universal shout,  
Salute the Prince, and wish the second bout.  
Nor Winds, long prisoners in Earth's hollow vault,  
The fallow Seas so eagerly assault;  
As fiery RUPERT, with revengeful Joy,  
Doth on the Dutch his hungry Courage cloy;  
But soon Unrigged, lay like an useless Board;  
(As wounded in the Wrist, Men drop their Sword.)  
When a propitious Cloud between us stepped,  
And in our aid did RVYTER intercept.  
Old Homer yet did never introduce,  
To save his Herce●, Mists of better use.  
Worship the Sun, who dwell where he doth rise;  
This Mist doth more deserve our Sacrifice.  
Now joyful Fires, and the exalted Bell,  
And Court-Gazzets, our empty Triumphs tell!  
Alas! the time draws near, when overturned,  
The lying Bells shall through the Tongues be burned;  
Paper shall want to print that Lie of State,  
And our false Fires, true Fires shall expiate.  
Stay Painter, here a while, and I will stay;  
Nor vex the future Times with my survey:  
Seest not the Monkey Duchess all undressed?  
Paint thou but her, and she will paint the rest.  
This sad Tale found her in her outward Room,  
Nailing up Hangings not of Persian Loom:  
L●ke chaste Penelope that ne'er did room▪  
But made all fine against her GEORGE came home.  
Upon a Ladde●, in her Coat, much shorter,  
She stood, with Groom & Coachman for Supporter;  
A●d careless what they saw, or what they thought,  
With Honi Pense full honestly she wrought:  
One Te●ter drove, to lose no time nor place,  
A once the Ladder they remove, and Grace.  
Whilst thus they her translate from North to East,  
In posture just of a fourfooted Beast▪  
She heard the News: but altered yet no more,  
Than that which was behind, she turned before;  
Nor would come down, but with an Handkerchief,  
Which pocket soul did to her Neck prefer,  
She shed no tears, for she was too viraginous,  
But only snuffling her Trunk Cartilaginous,  
From scaling Ladder she began a story,  
Worthy to be had in Memento Mori;  
Arraigning past, and present, and futuri,  
With a Prophetic, if not Fiendly Fury:  
Her Hair began to creep, her Belly sound,  
Her Eyes to sparkle, and her Udder bound;  
Half Witch, half Prophet; thus the Albemarle,  
Like Presbyterian Sibyl, began to snarl:  
Traitors both to my Lord, and to the King▪  
Nay now it is beyond all suffering!  
One valiant Man by Land, and he must be  
Commanded out to stop their leaks at Sea:  
Yet send him Rupert, as an Helper meet;  
First the Command dividing, than the Fleet:  
One may if they be beat, or both be hit,  
Or if they overcome, yet Honours split:  
But reckoning GEORGE already knocked i'th' head,  
They cut him out like Beef, ere he be dead:  
Each for a Quarter hopes; the first doth skip,  
But shall fall short though, at the Gen●rals●hip:  
Next they for Master of the Horse agree;  
A third the Cockpit begs; not any Me:  
But they shall know, ay marry shall they do,  
That who the Cockpit hath, shall have Me too.  
I told George first, as Calamy told me,  
If the King brought these over, how it would be:  
Men that there pick his pocket to his face,  
And sell Intelligence to buy a place.  
T●at their Relig`on`ss pawn`d for clothes; nor care,  
'Tis run so long now, to redeem`t, nor dare.  
O what egreg`ous Loyalty to cheat!  
O what Fidelity it was to eat!  
Whilst Langdales, Hoptons', Glenhams ●tarv`d abroad  
And here true Roy`listss sink beneath their load.  
Men that did there affront, defame, betray  
The King, and so do here; now who but they!  
What! say I Men! nay rather Monsters; Men  
Only in Bed, nor to my knowledge then.  
See how they home return`d in Revel Rout,  
With the small manners that they first went out:  
Not better grown, nor wiser all the while,  
Renew the causes of their first Exile:  
As if, to show the Fool what 'tis I mean,  
I chose a foul Smock, when I might have clean▪  
First they for fear disband the Army tame,  
And leave Good George a Gen`rals' empty Name:  
Then Bishops must revive, and all unfix  
With Discontents, to content Twenty Six:  
The Lord's House drains the Houses of the Lord,  
For Bishop's Voices silencing the Word:  
O Barthol●mew! Saint of their Calendar!  
What`ss worse, th` Ejection, or the Massacre?  
Then Culpepper, Gloster, and th` Princess dy`d;  
Nothing can live that interupts an Hide.  
O more than humane GLOSTER! Fate did show  
Thee but to Earth, and back again withdrew.  
Then the fat Scrivener doth begin to think  
●Twas time to mix the Royal Blood with Ink.  
Barkley that swore as oft as he had Toes,  
Doth kneeling now her Chastity depose;  
●ust as the first French Card`nal could restore  
Maidenhead to his Widow, Niece, and Whore.  
For Portion, if she should prove light, when weigh`d,  
Four Millions shall within three years be paid,  
To raise it, we must have a Naval War,  
As if `twere nothing but Tara— Tan— Tar:  
Abroad all Princes disobliging first,  
At home all Parties but the very worst.  
To tell of Ireland, Scotland, Dunkirk, 's sad;  
Or the King's marr`age: but he thinks I`m mad:  
And sweeter Creature never saw the Sun,  
If we the King wish Monk, or Queen a Nun.  
But a Dutch VVa● shall all these Rumours still,  
Bleed out these Humours, and our Purses fill;  
Yet after four days Fight, they clearly saw  
saw 'twas too much danger for a Son-in-Law:  
Hire him to leave, for six score thousand pound:  
So with the King's Drums Men for sleep compound.  
But modest Sandwich thought it might agree  
With the State-Prudence, to do less than He:  
And to excuse their timerousness and sloth,  
They found how George might now be less than both  
First Smith must for Legorn, with force enough  
To venture back again, but not go through:  
Beaufort is there, and to their dazzling Eyes  
The distance more the Object magnifies;  
Yet this they gain, that Smith his time should lose,  
And for my Duke too, cannot interpose:  
But fearing hat our Navy, George to break,  
Might yet not be sufficiently weak;  
The Secretary, that had never yet  
Intelligence, but from his own Gazzet,  
Discovers a great secret, fit to sell,  
And pays himself for`t, ere he would it tell;  
Beaufort is in the Channel; Hixy here!  
●oxy Thoulou! Beaufort is eu`ry where.  
Herewith assembling the supreme Divan,  
Where enters none but Devil, NED, and NAN▪  
And upon this pretence they strait design`d  
The Fleet to sep`rate, and the VVorl● to blind:  
Monk to the Dutch, and Rupert (here the Wench  
Could not but smile) is destin`d to the French.  
To write the Order, Bristol`s' Clerk is chose,  
One slit in`s Pen, the other in his Nose;  
For he first brought the News, it is his place;  
He`ll see the Fleet divided like his Face,  
And through the cranny in his grisly part,  
To the Dutch Chink Intelligence impart.  
The Plot succeeds: the Dutch in haste prepared,  
And poor Peel-Garlick George`s Arse they shar`d;  
And then presuming of his certain wrack,  
To help him late, they send for Rupert back.  
Officious Will seem`d fittest, as afraid  
Left George should look too far into his trade.  
At the first draught they pause with statesmen's care,  
They write it fou●, then copy it as fair;  
And then compare them, when at last it's sign`d,  
Will soon his Purse-strings, but no Seal could find▪  
At night he sends it by the common Post,  
To save the King of an Express the cost.  
Lord, what ado to pack one Letter hence▪  
Some Patents pass with less circumference.  
Well George, in spite of them thou safe dost ride,  
Lessen`d I hope in nought but thy backside;  
For as to Reputation, this Retreat  
Of thine exceeds their Victories so great:  
Nor shalt thou stir from thence, by my consent,  
Till thou hast made the Dutch and Them repent.  
` 'tis true, I want so long the Nuptial Gi●t,  
But as I oft have done, I'll make a Shift;  
Nor will I with vain pomp accost the shore,  
To try thy valour at the Buoy i`th` Nore.  
Fall to thy work there, George, as I do here;  
Cherish the Valiant up, Cowards cashier:  
See that the Men have Pay, and Beef, and Beer,  
Find out the Cheats of the four Millioneer.  
Out of the very Beer, they sell the Malt;  
Powder of Powder, from powder`d Beef the Salt.  
Put thy hand to the Tub; instead of Ox,  
They victual with French Pork that hath the Pox.  
Never such Cotqueans by small Arts to wring,  
Ne`er such ill Huswives in the managing!  
Pursers at Sea know fewer Cheats than they,  
Marr`nerss on shore less madly spend their pay.  
See that thou hast new Sails thyself, and spoil  
All their Sea-market, and their Cable-coyl.  
Look that Good Chaplains on each ship do wait,  
Nor the Sea-Diocess be impropriate:  
Look to the sick and wounded Pris`nerss; all  
Is prize; they rob even the Hospital.  
Recover back the Prizes too; in vain  
We fight, if all be taken that is ta'en.  
Now by our Coast the Dutchmen, like a Flight  
Of feeding Ducks, eu`ning and morning light;  
How our Land-hectors', tremble, void of sense,  
As if they came strait to transport them hence:  
Some Sheep are stolen; the Kingdom`s all arrayed,  
And e`un Presbyters now call`d out for aid.  
They wish eu`n George divided to command,  
One half of Him at Sea, th` other on Land.  
〈◊〉 ●hat`s that I see! Ah 'tis my George again!  
〈…〉 they in seven weeks have Rigg`d him then.  
〈◊〉 curious Heau`nss with Lightning him surrounds▪  
〈◊〉 view him, and his Name in Thunder sounds.  
But with the same swift goes, Their Navy's near:  
So ere we hunt, the Keeper shoots the Dee●▪  
Stay Heaven a while, and thou shalt see him sail,  
And George too, he can thunder, lighten, hail.  
Happy the time that I e'er wedded George,  
The sword of England, and the Holland Scourge.  
Avaunt Rotterdam-Dog, Ruyter avaunt,  
Thou Water-Rat, thou Shark, thou Cormorant.  
I'll teach thee to shoot Scissors: I'll repair  
Each Rope thou losest, George, out of this Hair.  
'Tis strong and course enough; I'll him this shift,  
Ere thou shalt lack a Sail, and lie adrift:  
Bring home the old ones; I again will sew,  
And darn them up, to be as good as new.  
What twice disabled! Never such a thing!  
Now Sovereign help him that brought in the King▪  
Guard thy Posteriors, George, ere all be gone;  
Though Jur●-Masts, thou'st Jury-Buttocks none.  
Courage! How bravely (whet with this disgrace)  
He turns, and Bullets spits in Ruyters face!  
They fly, they fly, their Fleet doth now divide,  
But they discard their Trump: our Trump is Hide.  
Where are you now, De Ruyter, with your Bears?  
See where your Merchants burn about your Ears.  
Fire out the Wasps, George, from the hollow Trees,  
Crammed with the Honey of our English Bees.  
Ah now they're paid for Guinney: ere they steer  
To the Gold Coast, they find it hotter here.  
Turn all your ships to stoves ere you set forth,  
To warm your Traffic in the frozen North.  
Ah Sandwich! had thy Conduct been the same,  
Bergen had seen a less but richer Flame;  
Nor Ruyter lived new Battle to repea●,  
And oftener beaten be, than we can beat.  
Scarce had George leisure, after all his pain,  
To tie his Bre●ches; Ruyter's out again:  
Thr●●e in one year! Why sure this Ma● is wood●  
B●a● him like stockfish, or he'll ne'er be good.  
I see them both again prepare to try;  
They first shoot through each other with the Eye.  
Then— But the Ruling Providence that must  
With humane projects play, as wind with dust,  
Raises a storm. So Constables a fray  
Knock down; and send them both well cuffed away.  
Plant now New England Fir● in English Oak,  
Build your Ships Ribs proof to the Cannon-stroke:  
To get a Fleet to Sea, exhaust the Land;  
Let longing Princes pine for the Command:  
Strong Marchpanes! Wafers light! so thin a puff  
Of angry air can ruin all that Huff:  
So Champions having shared the Lists and Sun,  
The Judge throws down's Award, and they have done,  
For shame come home, George; 'tis for thee too much  
To fight at once with Heaven and the Dutch.   

Woes me! what see I next! alas, the fate  
I see of England, and its utmost date.  
Those Flames of theirs at which we fond smile,  
Ki●dle like Torches our Sepulchral Pile.  
War, Fire, and Plague against us all conspire;  
We the War, God the Plague, who raised the Fire?  
See how Men all like Ghosts, while London burns,  
W●nder, and each over his Ashes mourns!  
Cursed be the Man that first begat this War,  
〈◊〉 ill hour, under a Blazing Star.  
●o● Others sport two Nations fight a Prize;  
Between them both, Religion wounded dies.  
So of first Troy, the angry Gods unpaid,  
Razed the Foundations which themselves had laid.   

Welcome, though late, dear George: here hadst thou been,  
We'd scaped: (let Rupert bring the Navy in.)  
Thou still must help them out, when in the mire;  
Gen'ral at Land, at Plague, at Sea, at Fire.  
Now thou art gone, see Beaufort dares approach,  
And our Fleets angling, as to catch a Roach.   

Gibson farewel, till next we put to Sea:  
Truth is, thou`st drawn her in Effigy.    

TO THE KING.  By Sir JOHN DENHAM. 
GReat Prince! and so much Greater as more Wise;  
Sweet as our Life, and dearer than our Eyes:  
What Servants will conceal, and Counsels spare  
To tell, the Painter and the Poet dare.  
And the assistance of an heavenly Muse  
And Pencil, represent the Crimes abstruse.  
Here needs no Fleet, no Sword, no foreign Foe;  
Only let Vice be damned, and justice flow.  
Shake but, like Jove, thy Locks divine, and frown,  
Thy Sceptre will suffice to guard thy Crown.  
Hark to Cassandra's Song, ere Fate destroy  
By thine own Navy's wooden Horse, thy Troy.  
As our Apollo, from the Tumults wave,  
And gentle Calms, though but in Oars, will save.  
So Philomela her sad Embroidery strung,  
And vocal Silks tuned with her Needle's Tongue.  
The Pictures dumb in Colours loud revealed  
The Tragedies of Courts so long concealed;  
But when restored to voice enclosed with wings  
To Woods and Groves what once the Painter sings.   

DIRECTIONS TO A PAINTER.  By Sir JOHN DENHAM. 

DRaw England ruined by what was given before,  
Then draw the Commons slow in giving more:  
Too late grown wiser, they their treasure see  
Consumed by fraud, or lost by treachery;  
And vainly now would some account receive  
Of those vast sums which they so idly gave,  
And trusted to the management of such  
As Dunkirk sold, to make War with the Dutch;  
Dunkirk, designed once to a Nobler Use,  
Than to erect a party Lawyer's House.  
But what account could they from t●ose expect,  
Who 〈◊〉 grow rich themselves, the State neglect:  
Men who in England have no other Lot,  
Than what they by betraying it have got;  
Who can pretend to nothing but Disgrace,  
Where either Birth or Merit find a place.  
Plague, Fire and War, have been the Nations curse,  
But to have these our Rulers, is a worse:  
Yet draw these Ca●sers of the Kingdom's woe,  
Still urging dangers from our growing Foe,  
Ask new Aid for War with the same face,  
As if, when given, they meant not to make Peace.  
Mean while they cheat the Public with such haste,  
They will have nothing that may ease it, past.  
The Law against Irish cattle they condemn,  
As showing distrust o'th' King, that is, of them.  
Yet they must now swallow this bitter P●ll,  
Or Money want, which were the greater ill.  
And then the King to Westminster is brought,  
Imperfectly to speak the Chanc'lors' thought;  
In which, as if no Age could parallel  
A Prince and Council that had ruled so well,  
He tells the Parliament He cannot brook  
What ●re in them like Jealousy doth look:  
Adds, That no Grievances the Nation load,  
While we're undone at home, despised abroad.  
Thus past the Irish, wi●h the Money-Bill,  
The first not half to good, as th● other ill.  
With these new Millions might we not expect  
Our Foes to vanquish, or ourselves protect,  
If not to beat them off usurped Seas,  
At least to force an honourable Peace?  
But though the angry fa●e, or folly rather,  
Of our perverted State, altew us ●ei●her;  
Could we hope less than to defend our Shores,  
Than guard our Harbours, Forts, our Ships & Stores?  
We hoped in vain: Of these, remaining are,  
Not what we saved, but what the Dutch did spare.  
Such was our Rulers generous stratagem;  
A policy worthy of none but them.  
After two Millions more laid on the Nation,  
The Parliament grows ripe for Prorogation:  
They rise, and now a Treaty is confessed,  
●Gainst which before these State-Cheats did protest:  
A Treaty which too well makes it appear,  
Theirs▪ not the Kingdom's Interest, is their care.  
〈…〉 tatesmen of old, thought Arms the way to Peace;  
〈…〉 threadbare Policies as these:  
〈…〉 for the State's defence,  
They 〈◊〉 too little for their own expense:  
Or if 〈…〉 they any thing can spare,  
It is to bu● Peace, not maintain a War▪  
For which gre●● work Ambassadors must go  
With b●re submissions to our arming foe:  
Thus leaving a defenceless State behind,  
Vast 〈◊〉 preparing by the Belgians find;  
Against whose 〈◊〉 what can us defend,  
Whilst our great 〈◊〉 here depend  
Upon the Dutch good Nature: For when Peace  
(Say they) is making▪ Acts of War must cease.  
Thus were we by the name of Truce betrayed,  
Though by the Dutch nothing like it was made.  
Here, P●inter, let thine Art describe a story  
Shaming our warlike Islands ancient Glory:  
A scene which never on our Seas appeared,  
Since o●r fi●st ships were on the Ocean steered;  
Make the Du●ch Fleet, while we supinely sleep,  
Without Opposers, Masters of the Deep:  
Make them securely the Thames mouth invade,  
At once depriving us of that and Trade:  
Draw Thunder from their floating Castles, sent  
Against our Forts, weak as our Government:  
Draw Wollage, Deptford, London, and the Tower,  
Meanly abandoned to a foreign Power.  
Yet turn their first attempt another way,  
And let their Cannons upon Sheerness play;  
Which soon destroyed, their lofty Vessels ride  
Big with the hope of the approaching Tide:  
Make them more help from our Remissness find,  
Than from the Tide, or from the Eastern wimd.  
Their Canvas swelling with a prosperous gale,  
Swift as our fears make them to Chattam sail:  
Through our weak Chain their Fireships break their way,  
And our Great Ships (unmanned) become their prey:  
Then draw the fruit of our ill-manag`d cost,  
At once our Honour and our Safety lost:  
Bury those Bulwarks of our Isle in smoke,  
While their thick flames the neighbouring Country choke.  
The Charles escapes the raging Element,  
To be with triumph into Holland sent;  
Where the glad People to the shore resort,  
To see their Terror now become their Sport▪  
But Painter, fill not up thy Piece before  
Thou paint'st Confusion on our troubled shore:  
Instruct then thy bold Pencil to relate  
The saddest Marks of an ill-governed State.  
Draw th' injured Seamen deaf to all command,  
While some with horror and amazement stand:  
Others will know no Enemy but they  
Who have unjustly robbed them of their pay:  
Boldly refusing to oppose a fire,  
To kindle which our Errors did conspire:  
Some (though but few) persuaded to obey,  
Useless for want of ammunition stay:  
The Forts designed to guard our ships of War,  
Void both of Powder and of Bullets are:  
And what past Reigns in peace did ne'er omit,  
The present (whilst invaded) doth forget.  
Surpassing Chattam, make Whitehall appear,  
If not in danger, yet at least in fear.  
Make our dejection (if thou canst) seem more  
Than our pride, sloth, and ignorance did before:  
The King, of danger now shows far more fear,  
Than he did ever to prevent it, care:  
Yet to the City doth himself convey,  
Bravely to show he was not R●n away:  
Whilst the Black Prince, and our Fifth Harry's Wars,  
Are only acted on our Theatres:  
Our Statesmen finding no expedient,  
(If fear of danger) but a Parliament,  
Twice would avoid, by clapping up a Peace;  
The Cures to them as bad as the Disease:  
But Painter, end not, till it does appear  
Which most, the Dutch or Parliament they fear.   

As Nero once, with Harp in Hand, surveyed  
His flaming Rome; and as that burnt, he played:  
So our Great Prince, when the Dutch Fleet arrived,  
Saw his ships burnt; and as they burned, he—    

DIRECTIONS TO A PAINTER.  By Sir JOHN DENHAM. 

PAinter, Where waste thy former work did cease?  
Oh `twas at Parliament, and the brave Peace!  
Now for a Cornucopia: Peace all know  
●rings Plenty with it: wish it be not Woe.  
●raw Coats of Pageantry, and Proclamations  
Of Peace, concluded with one, two, three Nations.  
●anst thou not on the Change make Merchants grin  
●ike outward smiles, whiles vexing thoughts within?  
Thou art no Artist, if thou canst not feign,  
And counterfeit the counterfeit disdain.  
Draw a brave Standard, ruffling at a rate  
Much other than it did for Chathams fate.  
The Tow'r-Guns too, thundering their Joys, that they  
Have scaped the danger of b●ing ta●en away:  
These, as now mann`d, for triumphare, not fight:  
As painted fire for show, not heat or light.  
Amongst the Roar of these, and the mad shout  
Of a poor nothing-understanding Rout,  
That think the On-and-Off-Peace now is true,  
Thou might`st draw Mourners for Black Bartholomew▪  
Mourners in Zion! Oh 'tis not to be  
Discover`d; draw a Curtain courteously  
To hide them. Now proceed to draw at night  
A Bonfire here and there; but none too bright,  
Nor lasting: for `twas Brushwood, as they say,  
Which they that hop`d for Coals now flung away▪  
But stay, I had forgot my Mother: Draw  
The Church of England `mongst thy Opera,  
To play their part too; or the Dutch will say  
In War and Peace they`ve born the Bells away.  
At this end then, two or three Steeples ringing,  
At th` other end draw Quires, Te Deum singing;  
Between them leave a space for Tears: Remember  
That 'tis not long to th` Second of September.  
Now if thou skill`st prospective Landscape, draw  
At distance what perhaps thine Eyes ne`er saw:  
Polyzoon, Spicy Islands, Kits, or Guinney;  
Syrrenam, Nova Scotia, or Virginia?  
No, no, I mean not these; pray hold your laughter  
These things are fa● off, not worth looking after:  
Give not a hint of these: Draw Highland, Lowland  
Mountains and Flats: Draw Scotland first, the Holland.  
See, canst thou ken the Scots frowns? Then draw  
That something had to get, but nought to lose.  
Canst thou through fogs discern the Dutchmen drink● thos●▪  
Buss-Skippers, lately Capers, stamp to think  
Their Catching-craft is over: some have ta`en,  
To eke their War, a Warrant from the Dane.  
But passing these, their Statesmen view a while,  
In ev▪ ry graver countenance a smile:  
Copy the piece there done, wherein you'll see  
One laughing out, I told you how 't would be!  
Draw next a pompous Interchange of Seals▪  
But curs`d be he that Articles reveals  
Before he knows them: Now for this take light  
From him that did describe Sir Edward's fight:  
You may perhaps the truth on't doubt; what though?  
You'll have it then Cum Privilegio.  
Then draw our Lords Commissioners advance,  
Not homewards, but for Flanders, or for France▪  
There to parlier a while, until they see  
How things in Parliament resented be.  
So much for Peace. Now for a Parliament:  
A petty Session draw: With what content,  
Guess by their countenance who came up post,  
And quickly saw they had their labour lost:  
Like the small Merchants when they Bargains sell;  
Come hither jack: What say? Come kiss: farewell.  
But `twas abortive, born before its day;  
No wonder than it died so soon away.  
Yet breathed it once, and that with such a force,  
It blasted Thirty Thousand Foot and Horse.  
As once Prometheus' man did sneez so hard,  
As routed all that new-raised standing Guard  
Of Teeth, to keep the Tongue in order: So  
Down fall our New Gallants without a Foe.  
But if this little one could do so much,  
What will the next? Give a Prophetic touch,  
If thou know how; if not, leave a great space▪  
For great things to be pourtray`d in their place.  
Now draw the shadow of a Parliament,  
As if to scare the upper World `twere sent:  
Cross yourselves, Gentlemen, for shades will fright,  
Especially if`t be an English Spirit:  
●●ermilion this man's guilt, ceruse his fears;  
Sink th' others Eyes deep in his Head with cares:  
Another thought some on Accounts, to see  
How his Disbursements with Receipts agree.  
Peep into Coaches, see Periwigs neglected,  
Crossed arms and legs of such as are suspected,  
Or do suspect what's coming, and foresee  
Themselves must share in this Polutrophy.  
Painter, hast travelled? Didst thou e`er see Rome?  
That fam▪ d piece there, Angelo's Day of Doom?  
Horrors and anguish of Descenders there,  
May teach thee how to paint Descenders here.  
Canst thou describe the empty shifts are made,  
Like that which Dealers call, Forcing of Trade?  
Some shift their Crimes, some Places; and among  
The rest, some will their Countries too, ere long.  
Draw in a corner Gamesters, shuffling, cutting,  
Their little crafts, no wit, together putting:  
How to pack Knaves `mongst Kings and Queens, to make  
A saving Game, whilst Heads are at the stake:  
But cross their Cards, until it be confessed,  
Of all the play, fair dealing is the best.  
Draw a Veil of Displeasure, one to Hide,  
And some prepared to strike a blow on's side▪  
Let him that built high, now creep low to shelter,  
When Potentares must tumble, Helter Skelter.  
The Purse, Seal, Mace, are gone, as it was fit;  
Such Marks as these could not choose but be hit:  
The Purse, Seal, Mace, are gone; Bartholomew day,  
Of all the days i`th`year, they're ta`en away.  
The Purse, Seal, Mace are gone, but to another  
Mitre; I wish not so, though to my Brother:  
I care not for Translation to a See,  
Unless they would translate to Italy.  
Now draw a Sail playing before the wind,  
From the North-West; that which it leaves behind,  
Curses or out-cries, mind them not, till when  
They do appear Realities, and then  
Spare not to paint them in their Colours, though  
Crimes of a Viceroy: Deputies have so  
Been seru`d e'er now. But if the Man prove true,  
Let him, with Pharaoh`s' Butler, have his due.  
Make the same wind blow strong against the shore  
Of France, to hinder some from coming o`er  
And rather draw the Golden Vessel burning,  
Even there, then hither with her freight returning,  
` 'tis true the Noble Treasurer is gone:  
Wise, faithful, loyal; some say th` only one:  
Yet I will hope we've Pilots left behind  
Can steer our Vessel without Southern Wind.  
Women have grossly snar`d the wisest Prince  
That ever was before, or hath been since:  
And Granham Athaliah in that Nation,  
Was a great hinderer of Reformation.  
Paint in a new Piece painted jezabel;  
Giu`t to adorn the Dining Room of Hell:  
Hang by her others of the Gang; for more  
Deserve a place with Rosamond, jane Shore, etc.  
Stay, Painter; now look here`ss below a space,  
I`th`bottom of all this, what shall we place?  
Shall it be Pope, or Turk, or Prince, or Nun?  
Let the Resolve write Nescio. So have done.  
Expose thy Piece now to the world to see:  
Perhaps they'll say of It▪ of Thee, of Me,  
Poems and Paints can speak sometimes Bold Truths,  
Poets and Painters are Licentious Youths.   

Quae sequuntur, in limine Thalami Regii, a nescio  
quo nebulone scripta, reperibantur.   

Bella fugis, Bellas sequeris, Belloque repugnas  
Et Bellatori, sunt tibi Bella Thori  
Imbelles Imbelliae amas, A●daxque videris  
Mars ad opus Veneris, Martis ad Arma Venus.    

Clarindon's HOUSE-WARMING.  

WHen Clarindon had discern`d beforehand,  
(As the Cause can eas`ly foretell the Effect)  
At once three Deluges threatening our Land;  
` 'twas the season he thought to turn Architect.   

Us Mars, and Apollo, and Vulcan consume;  
While he the Betrayer of England and Flander,  
Like the King-fisher chooseth to build in the Broom,  
And nestles in flames like the Salamander.   

But observing that Mortals run often behind,  
(So unreasonable are the rates they buy-at)  
His Omnipotence therefore much rather designed  
How he might create a House with a Fiat.   

He had read of Rhodope, a Lady of Thrace,  
Who was digged up so often ere she did marry;  
And wished that his Daughter had had as much grace  
To erect him a Pyramid out of her Quarry.   

But then recollecting how the Harper Amphyon  
Made Thebes dance aloft while he fiddled and sung,  
He thought (as an Instrument he was most free on)  
To build with the Jews-trump of his own tongue.   

Yet a Precedent fitter in Virgil he found,  
Of African Poultney, and Tyrian Died,  
That he begged for a Palace so much of his ground,  
As might carry the measure and name of an Hyde.   

Thus daily his Gouty Inventions he pained,  
And all for to save the expenses of Brickbat,  
That Engine so fatal, which Denham had brained.  
And too much resembled his Wives Chocolatte.   

But while these devices he all doth compare,  
None solid enough seemed for his strong Castor;  
He himself would not dwell in a Castle of air,  
Though he had built full many a one for his Master   

Already he had got all our Money and cattle,  
To buy us for Slaves, and purchase our Lands;  
What joseph by Famine, he wrought by Sea-Battel  
Nay scarce the Priest's portion could scape from his hands.   

And hence like Pharaoh that Israel pressed  
To make Mortar and Brick, yet allowed them no straw,  
He cared not though Egypt's Ten Plagues us distressed,  
So he could to build but make Policy Law.   

The Scotch Forts & Dunkirk, but that they were sold,  
He would have demolished to raise up his Walls;  
Nay even from Tangier have sent back for the mould,  
But that he had nearer the Stones of St. Paul's.   

His Wood would come in at the easier rate,  
So long as the Yards had a Deal or a Spar:  
His Friend in the Navy would not be ingrate,  
To grudge him some Timber who framed him the War,   

To proceed in the Model he called in his Allons,  
The two Allons when jovial, who ply him with gallons,  
The two Allons who serve his blind Justice for balance,  
The two Allons who serve his Injustice for Talons.   

They approve it thus far, and said it was fine;  
Yet his Lordship to finish it would be unable;  
Unless all abroad he divulged the design,  
For his House then would grow like a Vegetable.   

His Rent would no more in arreas run to Worster;  
He should dwell more noble, and cheap too athome,  
While into a fabric the Presents would mus●er;  
As by hook and by crook the world clustered of Atom.   

He liked the advice, and then soon it assayed;  
And Presents crowd headlong to give good example:  
So the Bribes overlaid her that, Rome once betrayed:  
The Tribes ne'er contributed so to the Temple.   

Strait Judges, Priests, Bishops, true sons of the Seal,  
Sinners, Governors, Farmers, Bankers▪ Patentees.  
●ring in the whole Mite of a year at a meal,  
As the Chodder Clubs Dairy to the incorporate Cheese   

Bul●●a●es, Beak●s, Morley, Wrens' fingers with telling  
Were shrivelled, and Clu●terbuck, Eagers' & Kips▪  
Since the Act of Oblivion was never suc●●selling,  
As at this Benevolence out of the Snips.   

'Twas then the Chimny-Contractors he smoakd,  
Nor would take his beloved Canary in kind:  
But he swore that the Patent should ne'er be revoked;  
No, would the whole Parliament kiss him behind.   

Like jove under Aetna o'erwhelming the Giant,  
For foundation the Bristol sunk in the Earth's bowel;  
And St. john must now for the Leads be compliant,  
Or his right hand shall else be cut off with the Trowel.   

For surveying the building, Prat did the feat;  
But for the expense he relied upon Worstenholm,  
Who sat heretofore at the King's Receipt;  
〈◊〉 received now and paid the Chancellors Custom▪   

By Subsidies thus both Clerick and Laic,  
And with matter profane, cemented with holy,  
He finished at last his Palace Mosaic,  
By a Model more excellent than Lesly's Folly.   

And upon the Tarrus, to consummate all,  
A Lantern, like Fauxes surveys the burnt Town,  
And shows on the top by the Regal G●lt Ball,  
Where you are to expect the Sceptre and Crown   

Fond City, its Rubbish and Ruins that builds,  
Like vain Chemists, a flower from its ashes returning;  
Your Metropolis House is in St▪ James' Fields,  
And till there you remove, you shall never leave burning   

This Temple of War and of Peace is the Shrine;  
Where this Idol of State sits adored and accursed:  
And to handsel his Altar and Nostrils divine,  
Great Buckingham's Sacrifice must be the first.   

Now some (as all Builders must censure abide)  
Throw dust in its Front, and blame situation:  
And others as much reprehend his Backside,  
As too narrow by far for his expatiation.   

But do not consider how in process of times,  
That for Namesake he may with Hyde Park it enlarge,  
And with that convenience he soon for his Cr●●●▪  
At Tyburn may land, and spare the Tower-Barge.   

Or rather how wisely his S●all was built near,  
Le●t with driving too far his Tallow impair;  
When like the good Ox, for public good cheer,  
He comes to be roasted next St. James' Fair.    

Upon his House.  
HEre lies the sacred Bones  
Of Paul beguiled of his Stones.  
Here lie Golden Briberies,  
The price of ruin'd Families:  
The Cavaliers Debenter-Wall,  
Fixed on an Eccentrick Basis;  
Here 's Dunkirk-Town and Tangier-Hall,  
The Queen's Marriage and all;  
The Dutchmans' Templum Pacis.   

Upon his grandchildren.  
KEndal is dead, and Cambridge riding post?  
What fitter Sacrifice for Denham's Ghost?  
FINIS.