An Excellent New BALLAD Of the PLOTTING HEAD.  
To the Tune of, How Unhappy is Phillis in Love. Or, Let Oliver now be forgot, etc.  

YOu Presbyters now Relent,  
For your Plotting is all in vain,  
Since College does now Repent,  
And hourly does complain;  
That all your contrivance is nothing,  
And M— yet proves a Slowthing:  
Ah little Pate!  
Politic Pate!  
Thy Policy now is grown quite out of Date.   

Now all the Cabal Men of Fortune,  
With Toney, the Head of the Crew  
Who the People did often Importune,  
To Swear things that never were true:  
Oh! this is the Fox of the Nation,  
Who made your Sedition a Fashion,  
Ah little Pate!  
Ill was thy Fate!  
For to bring thyself to this wretched Estate.   

And now where's thy Policy Toney,  
The Nation so much did Admire,  
Hast lost both thy Wit, and thy Money  
Since Friends with thy Fortune Expire;  
Had not Harris spoke truth at's last Hour;  
Thou ne'er hadst been sent to the Tower,  
Ah little Pate!  
What is thy Fate!  
Wilt thou have thy Head fixed fast on a Gate.   

Poor Stafford indeed you out-witted,  
And thought to have done all the rest,  
But now your Acquaint Policy's fitted  
And you left to make up the jest;  
Except you Invoke your Friend Tory,  
To turn, and to Swear a New Story:  
Ah little Pate!  
What is thy Fate!  
Alas must thy Head now be fixed on a Gate?   

The Zealots that live in the City,  
Are grieved, for to see your strange Fate;  
Though yet they your Fortune may pity,  
They'll find out your Treasons too late:  
For the Devil you faithfully served,  
Has left you, to what you deserved  
Ah little Pate!  
Damned little Pate!  
To cause this distraction and Curse in the Stat●▪   

Like Lucifer swelled with Ambition,  
And tossed from a Heavenly Seat;  
So you from a wretched Condition,  
Was by your King's Favour, made Great  
But like the worst of all Creatures,  
Whose Treacherie's seen in his Features;  
For you little Pate,  
To bring in a State,  
Would venture your Head being fixed on a G●●●   

You thought that when Hide was Transplant●●  
That you should have grown in his place,  
But his Offspring, who never were Daunted  
Your Actions did hourly Trace;  
For you (Janus like) have two Faces,  
And fit yourself for all Places;  
Ah little Pate!  
Politic Pate!  
Which for Treason at last, will be fixed on a G●●●   

Confess all thy Traitorous Actions,  
Consider the Blood hath been Shed;  
Lay open thy yet hidden Factions,  
Of which thou art surely the Head;  
Pull out thy Tap of Sedition,  
Gain Mercy by true Contrition.  
Ah little Pate!  
Politic Pate!  
Or else may thy Head be fast fixed on a Gate.    

Printed for P. M. in the Year. 1681.