The Ghost of the late House of Commons, To the New one appointed to meet at OXFORD  

FRom deepest Dungeons of Eternal Night,  
The feats of Horror, Sorrow, Pains & spite,   

I have been sent to tell your tender Youth  
A seasonable and Important Truth!   

I feel, (but Oh too late,) that no Disease  
Is like a Surfeit of Luxurious Ease,   

And of all other, the most tempting things,  
Are too much Wealth, and too Indulgent Kings.   

None ever was superlatively ill,  
But by Degrees, with Industry and Skill:   

And some, whose Meaning hath at first been fair,  
Grow Knaves by Life, and Rebels by Despair.   

My time is past, and Yours will soon begin,  
Keep the first Blossoms from the blast of Sin;   

And by the Fate of my Tumultuous ways,  
Preserve yourself, and bring serener Days.   

The busy subtle Serpents of the Law,  
Did first my Mind from true Obedience draw;   

While I did Limits to the King prescribe,  
And took for Oracles that Canting Tribe,   

I changed True Freedom for the Name of Free,  
And grew Seditious for Variety;   

All that opposed me were to be accused;  
And, by the Laws I Legally abused.   

The Robe was summoned, M— d in the head,  
In Legal Murder none so deeply read:   

I brought him to the Bar, where once he stood,  
Stained with (the yet un-expiated) Blood   

Of the Brave Strafford, when 3 Kingdoms rung  
With his accumulative Hackney Tongue;   

Prisoners, and Witnesses were waiting by;  
These had been taught to Swear, and those to die,   

And to expect Their Arbitrary Fates,  
Some for ill Faces, some for good Estates;   

To fright the People, and Alarm the Town,  
B— and O— employed the Reverend Gown.   

But while the Triple Mitre bore the blame,  
The Kings 3 Crowns were their Rebellious aim:   

I seemed, (and did but seem) to fear the Guards,  
And took for mine the B— and the W—   

Anti monarchick Heretics of State,  
Immoral Atheists, Rich, and Reprobate:   

But above all, I got a little Guide,  
Who every Foard of Villainy had tried;   

None knew so well the old Pernicious way  
To Ruin Subjects, and make Kings obey;   

And my small Jehu at a Furious Rate,  
Was driving Eighty back to Forty Eight.   

This the King knew, and was Resolved to bear,  
But I mistook his Patience for his Fear.   

All that this happy Island could afford,  
Was Sacrificed to my Voluptuous Board.   

In his whole Paradise one only Tree  
He had excepted by a strict Decree;   

A Sacred Tree which Royal Fruit did bear,  
Yet It in pieces I Conspired to tear;  
Beware my Child! Divinity is there.   

This so outdid all I had done before,  
I could attempt, and He endure no more.   

My Unprepared and Un-repenting breath,  
Was snatched away by the swift Hand of Death,   

And I (with all my Sins about me) hurled,  
To th' utter Darkness of the lower World;   

A dreadful place which you too soon will see,  
If You believe Seducers more than Me.   
FINIS.   

Printed for Benjamin Harris at the Stationer's Arms under the Royal Exchange; and are to be sold by Langley Curtis in Goatham Court on Ludgate-Hill. 1681.