THE Hypocritical WHIG DISPLAYED.  
WHat shall a Glorious Nation be overthrown,  
By a Crew of Sneaking Rascals of our own?  
Must Civil, and Ecclesiastic Laws;  
Once Truckle more under the Good Old Cause?  
Shall these Ungrateful Varlets think to Live  
Only to Clip the King's Prerogative?  
I'm all Inspired with a Poetic Rage,  
And must Chastise the Follies of the Age.  
Thoughts do so Crowd upon me, I must Write  
Till I've Displayed the Gaudy Hypocrite.  
He's one that scarcely can be called a Man;  
And yet forsooth's a Pious Christian.  
He disesteems dull Morals for a Saint,  
(My Well-beloved Brethren) must not Want:  
Soul Warming Thoughts, so warm that they did dwell  
First in the Womb, then at the Breasts of Hell.  
With Eyes turned up, Mouth Screwed, & Monkey Face,  
He Loudly Balls to God for Saving Grace,  
With such Unmanly, Scurvy Mean, as if even  
His Apish Postures only would please Heaven.  
He Hates a Form, but Loves his Dear Non sense,  
Nauseats his God with his Impertinence.  
If things succeed not as his Humour would,  
He strait grows Angry, and he Huffs his God.  
And this, as if God knows not what to do,  
And that would have been for thy Glory too.  
Then Muffled in his Cloak, the Beast begins  
In's Sermon to Dawbney forth Soul-Killing-Sins;  
Murder, and Theft, and Pride, and Gluttony,  
Rash Oaths, and Vows, and Black Idolaty,  
Which in their Lives none more Applauds than he.  
Yet if you do Survey the List with Care,  
You'll quickly find Rebellion is not there:  
Nay, when he's pressed to Duties for some Hours,  
He ne'er puts in Obey the Higher Powers.  
At Surplice, and Lawn-Sleeves he takes Offence,  
Because they are the Types of Innocence;  
For that he Scorns, and with it Men of Sense.  
The Reverend Prelates he still Vilifies,  
'Cause they Detect his Cursed Villainies:  
He shuns this Grave, and Learned Company,  
Because they smell too Rank of Loyalty.  
Hang them, says he, come let us Pull them Down,  
For this same Mitre will Support the Crown.  
He the King's Person would Protect, he said,  
Yes, yes forsooth, by Cutting off his Head.  
He is the King's best Friend, and yet thought Good  
To Plunge his Kingdoms in a Sea of Blood.  
And this he did, Inspired by Zeal alone,  
To Fasten Christ in his Triumphant Throne;  
As if Damned Lies, False Oaths, and Base Deceit  
Propped up his Throne, and made him truly Great.  
As if the Devil himself that Acted Them,  
Did bring the Lustre to his Diadem.  
Yea they go on, yet with the same Intents,  
By moulding to their Minds New Parliaments.  
In other things, like methods they pursue,  
For even the Sheriffs must be fanatics too.  
The Judges too, they'd to their Party gain,  
Did they lack either Honesty or Brain.  
But when their Wheedling Tricks do fail on these,  
They do Attack poor Country Justices.  
Some of the Great they by their Whimsies Guide,  
To Guard their Treason, and to like their Pride.  
In fine, they are the Foes of Royal State,  
Order, and Peace the Object of their Hate.  
They all mankind, except themselves Despise;  
Chiefly the Great, for being Good and Wise:  
Nor God, nor Man, these Furies seek to please;  
They'd Bruise the Crown, and Tear our Surplices.  
Some Subtle have, and some have Giddy Souls;  
Some Fools, some Knaves, & some are Knaves & Fools.  
These Vermin would even the best Things Command,  
And Suck up all the Fatness of the Land.  
FINIS.   

LONDON, Printed for C. H. Anno Domini 1682.