Flosculum Poeticum.  
POEMS DIVINE and HUMANE, 

Panegyrical,  
Satirical,  
Ironical.    
By P. K.  
LONDON, Printed for Benjamin Billingsley at the Printing-Press, near the Royal Exchange, 1684.   

READER.  
This Poem is an extemporanian byblow of the Muses; brought forth into the World before its full time. It is in puris, or rather nudis naturalibus; and beggeth a smile of acceptance, for a Swadling-Clout to cover its Nakedness: Nothing can murder it, but the Eye of a carping Critic: Neither do I fear but an Ingenuous Reader will find a dish that can both relish his Taste, and suffice his Appetite, without any danger of a Surfeit: There are some Typographical Errors, a thing very absurd in Poesy, but they are so obvious that none will impute them to the Author's Ignorance. Therefore Pray Page 25. read the last two lines thus. 
What need I care what Mortal Men can say,  
Whilst Great JEHOVAH doth a Sceptre sway▪    

Soli Deo omnis Gloria.  
ALmighty, Good, Great, Merciful, and Just,  
The Angel's Joy; of Men the Hope and Trust:  
Heaven is thy Throne, thou spans it with thine hand,  
Nonentities obey at thy Command.  
Earth's thy Footstool, thou view's it with thine eye,  
Yet both are narrow, for thy Majesty.  
All that we have, we own it unto thee;  
Both Life, and Breath, and our existency.  
Thou (when we were o'r-guilt with Adam's stain)  
Turned 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to restore's again,  
And by thy Power and Spirit did us call,  
To guide our Feet, from such another fall.  
thou'rt only good; and he that loves not thee  
Is Satan's Slave, and not as yet set free  
From strength of Sin, which thou alone most high,  
Didst overcome, gave us the Victory.  
Let Angels praise, and Men adore thy Name,  
And let all being's bow, and pay the same.  
Omniscience and Omnipotence are thine;  
And thy Ubiquity admits no line.  
Then let thy Kingdom turn to Monarchy,  
And its Duration be Eternity.  
That Sin and Death, may us no more destroy,  
Then when Stars sung, and thy Sons shouted joy.   

To the Memory of KING CHARLES the First.  
Blessed Saint, Great King, and constant Martyr, I  
Pay my small Mite here, to thy Memory.  
Yet these three Nations cannot all pay home,  
The Sum that's due▪ Engraven on thy Tomb.  
Yet hope thy Blood, ah Blood! (was guiltless shed)  
No Vengeance cries, but our Sin pardoned.  
Impute it not for boldness then, that I  
Can wish thy Life to live, thy Death to die.   

INDEX.  

ON Eternity. page 1.  
The World's Unworthiness. page 5.  
The World's Ingratitude. page 7.  
The Steadfast Christian. page 10.  
A Royal Meditation of K. Charles the First, on his Arraignment. page 11.  
A reflexfive Meditation on the same. page 13.  
His Anagram composed by himself the day before he was &c. page 14.  
An Elegy on his Murder and Martyrdom. page 15.  
On the same. page 16.  
On the same. page 17.  
King CHARLES the 2d. in the Oak page 19  
On his Return and Restauration. page 21.  
On the Death of MARY, Q. to CHARLES 1st. page 22.  
CAROLISMUS, or the Sovereign touch. page 23.  
An Anagram on JAMES STEWART. page 25.  
Meditatio regalis de Curiae conjugal i● nibus. page 28.  
A Conference 'twixt the sleepy Soul, and the watchful Shepherd. page 29.  
Promotion page 35.  
The great Oppressor. page ibid.  
On the O. M. page 36.  
On the D. Y. page 37.  
On a Beautiful Young Lady. page 38.  
On Mrs. M. F. page 39  
On Mrs. S. G. page 41.  
On the same. ibid.  
An A●●estick on Mrs. J. 〈◊〉. page 42.  
On M●●. 〈◊〉. F. page 43.  
A Compliment to Mrs. R. G. page 44.  
The Lukewarm Lover. page 46.  
Love's Valedictory. page 47.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 page 48.  
On the Turk's defeat at Vienna. page 50.  
A Plaudite on the same. page 52.  
The Green-with Green coats Song. page 55.  
A Prologue to a Play. page 58.  
Another. page 61.  
An Epilogue. page 60.  
On the slow building of St. Paul's Church. page 62.  
An Elogium on D. T. C. ibid.  
The noble commendation of S. G. G. page 63.  
The London-Monument. page 64.  
My Lady's Train. page 65.  
A Poem to one whose Loyalty was suspected. page 66.  
A Reply to a Pasquil. page 67.  
A Blow to the Hangman. page 68  
On the Memory of the Earl of OSSORY, page 69.  
On the Memory of Mr. J. F. page 70.  
On the Memory of Mr. J. K. page 71.  
On Memory of a Married Maid. page 72.  
On the Death of a Hopeful young Child. page 73.  
An Epitaph on the Brother of Heliogabolus, ibid.  
Regicida, or an Epitaph on Old Nol. page 74.  
On Death. page 76.  
The Statue Royal, page 77.  
The description of a Lie, and Character of a Liar. page 78.  
The Character of a Fortune-Teller. page 80.  
The Description of Drunkenness. page 83.  
The Character of a Drunkard. page 84.  
The Character of a Cuckold. page 68    

Isa. 57.15. 
Thus sayeth the High and Losty One, who inhabiteth Eternity.  Isa. 66.1. 
Heaven is my Throne, and Earth is my Footstool: But to this Man will I look, even to him that is Poor, etc.  E●cl. 1.14. 
Thou s●●● all the works th●t are und●● the Sun, etc.  Prov. 8.31. 
I took my solace in the Compass of the Earth, and my delight was with the Sons of Men.  
The Night's far spent, the Day draws nigh;  
The Morning Star aloud doth cry.  
Remember Long ETERNITY.  Joh. 5.7. 
There are three that bare Record in Heaven, etc.  Joh. 1.18. 
No Man hath seen God at any time etc.  Joh. 14.6. 
No Man, etc.  

ETERNITI  
Fathr. is not the Son is not the Holy. g is not the  
is God 〈◊〉  
is  
is  
a threefold Cord  
is not ea●●● broken  
Faith hope Love,   1 Cor. 12.3. 
No man can say that Jesus is the Lord, etc.  Joh. 15.5. 
Without me ye can do nothing.  Heb. 11.6. 
Without Faith it is impossible etc.  Rom. 8.24. 
We are saved by Hope.  1 Cor. 13. 1●. 
The greatest of th●se three is Love.  
God is Love.  Heb. 3.12. 
T●ke b●ed, Brethren, lest there be in any of you etc.  1 Joh. 5.8. 
And there are three that b●re Witness in Earth, etc.  
Oft h●●e I striven, and labour given,  
Etera●l. to s●an:  
But still I find, I b●at the Wind:  
And end where I began.    

POEMS On several Occasions.  

Eternity.  
WHat is Eternity? A thing  
That's round in fashion, like a Ring,  
It is a NOW, that endeth never.  
It is a LINE, that lasteth ever.  
'Tis semper Idem still the same.  
An Abstract, only known by name.  
A Point that cannot be decided;  
Substracted, Added, nor Divided.  
It is a round, long, endless Sphere,  
And sister-twins with .  
'Tis Non ens, clad in something's dress,  
It laughs the Arts, and Sciences,  
None can this clew of thread untwine,  
Or it In terminis define.  
'Tis absent still, yet In Praesentia.  
No Genus, but all Differentia.  
I traced it (by a Demonstration)  
'Twixt Va●tium, and Penitration,  
And though I did exactly mind it,  
I lost myself, but could not find it.  
I did conclude it once to call  
A Form, though not substantial:  
But when I laid it to mine Eye,  
It was a mere Absurdity.  
I clad it with supposed Fictions,  
And run myself in Contradictions:  
For when my Fancy made a stand,  
Thinking to catch it in my Hand;  
I cast mine Eye, but could not see  
Such Fruit, upon Porphyreu's Tree.  
I can perceive some twilight sky,  
Of all our new Philosophy:  
But this the Object of Objection,  
Know not by first, nor last conception:  
Only I think I hear it cry,  
I'm Endless, Long, Eternity.  
Some Philosophs it sue, and chase,  
To know its height, and see its face.  
But it no Parley, but Defy  
Sounds unto such 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
'Tis still at Hand, and yet it flies  
Beyond the Horizon of Eyes.  
I bent my Soul, and shot my Wit,  
Thinking this Center-Mark to hit;  
But it (like Arrows, shot in vain)  
As Immanent turned back again.  
I seriously did once design,  
It to describe, but not define;  
Yet got no further but to IT,  
Which of no limits doth admit;  
Of no Non ultra, or Non plus,  
No Prius, nor Posterius.  
It Time survives, and yet I'm told,  
Itself was ne'er a Minute old.  
It is a VERB, that doth commence  
No further, than the present Tense,  
A NOUN abounding, yet doth fall  
Objected, to no sense at all.  
A PRONOUN sure, it needs must be,  
For it includes Him, Thee, and Me,  
A PARTICIPLE, that gives and takes,  
Yet Less, or More it never makes.  
And for an ADVERB it may pass,  
Because it is an endless Cras.  
A PREPOSITION, out of doubt,  
For Circacircum's round about.  
'Tis a Conjunction that doth draw  
Forth endless long et caetera.  
It needs must be an INTERJECTION,  
Branched forth in Passion, and Perfection,  
Because it hath, still to throw in  
Evax, and Heu, and e'er begin.  
The moment of our short time is,  
ETERNITY'S Parenthisis.  
Yet the Duration that's called time,  
In its own proper sense and climb,  
Is all one with Eternity:  
But 'cause all Mortals here must die,  
We change the Name, but not the Nature;  
Terming our measure like the Creature.  
It, none that lives but one doth know,  
And can make it our Friend, or Foe.  
Whom we alone can fully call  
Heter, and homogenial.  
A Parte ante, and a Post,  
Whom chance, or change doth not accost,  
Who did us save, when we were lost.  
By whom, let Reader Thee, and Me,  
And all true hearted Christians be  
Blessed, unto all ETERNITY.   

THE WORLD'S Unworthiness.  John 1.17. 
The Law was given by Moses, but Grace and Truth came by Jesus Christ.  
MOSES a Shepherd, and the Man of God,  
Feeding his Flocks, in Horeb Mount abode:  
And as he sought some wandering Sheep to spy,  
A Non-such Object did surprise his eye.  
A Bush, (which is Hyperbole to say)  
Did burn apace, but not consume a way.  
Therefore amazed, he thither made his flight,  
To see that strange, and unexpected sight.  
But 'ere he knew, he forced was to retire;  
For him whose Name is A Consuming Fire,  
The King of Kings from Heaven to Earth was come,  
To give the Law, Per post liminium.  
The Great Jehovah Lord, descended had,  
To do the work, th' Almighty promised.  
But neither Plagues, nor Wrath, nor any Act,  
Or Miracle of Mercy, could bring back  
The chosen Israel, to pay the score  
In works, his great Grandfather run before.  
The heavenly Herald both in smoke, & fire,  
To pay their debt, all Mortals did require.  
God's Majesty, made Earth's Foundations shake:  
Mount Sinai tremble, and the people quake.  
A fiery Law went out, made Jacob mourn,  
It gave a light; but every spark did burn,  
No debt was paid, for Moses could no more  
But quake, and tremble, further on the score.  
And all the World could only but confess,  
God's holiness, and their Unrighteousness.  
Therefore the Lord (to keep us free from harm)  
Laid up the Bond, and gave a longer term.  
God only good (as our case did require)  
Turned flame of love, from a consuming fire.  
And likewise veiled (his great love to express)  
The burning Bush, within a Human dress.  
Which Mortals boldly might approach unto,  
Which not the meekest man before durst do.   

THE WORLD'S Ingratitude.  John 1.10. 
He was in the World, and the World was made by him, and the world knew him not.  

O Thankless Globe! of thrice adulterate clay,  
Whose Sin, and Ignorance eclipsed that day,  
Wherein thy Maker (Masked with Mortal dress,)  
Veiled his bright light, in human lowliness.  
To reconcile, and ransom thee again,  
From endless Death, from Sorrow, Grief, & Pain.  
He left his Father's Court, to visit thee,  
And Flesh became, to set thee Prison-free.  
The King of Kings, the Lord of all things, he  
Came in a Servants form, to suit for thee.  
Power, Wisdom, Goodness, Beauty, Life & Love  
With light, did all descend from heaven above, bane.  
To reunite, espouse, and bring again  
The wretched world, from the old Serpents  
When Adam's race was dead, and sunk in sin,  
Whom none could bring to life, nor once begin  
A Remedy, sufficient to heal  
Poor Apostates, nor could find any bail  
In Heaven, or Earth, who worthy was and just,  
To whom the God of truth could give in trust  
His Power, and Spirit, to fight, & put to chase  
The Host of Hell, and world of Wickedness.  
When neither Man nor Angel this durst dare,  
The God of peace became a Man of War.  
He made the world: but when he came therein,  
To purify, and make it clean from sin,  
They turned him out of doors, and did deny  
Him Bed, or Pillow, whereupon to lie:  
They would not give him lodging, one poor Night;  
Though unto him belonged the whole World's right.  
Both Beasts, & Fowls, had whereupon to rest;  
The Fox had holes, the Sparrow had a nest:  
And yet the Son here was so humble made,  
He had not whereupon to lay his Head.  
O Great Ingratitude! he did lay by  
His Royal Robes, and Glorious Majesty;  
And took our Nature, that he might restore  
Us to the Righteousness, we lost before:  
But when he came unto his dearest own;  
He (like a stranger) was to them unknown.  
They took his Life, and they by him did live,  
He (by his Death) Life unto them did give.  
They Murdered him: But he Revived again;  
And his delight is with the Sons of Men.   

Here's a Mysterious Love, and no Man knows it;  
But he, to whom the Father of Spirits shows it.    

The Stedfast-Christian  Eccles. 4.12. 
A threefold Cord is not easily broken.  Luke 24.32. 
Did not our Heart burn within us, while he talked with us by the way, etc.  

FAith, Hope, and Love,  
Are from above,  
And he that keeps them sure,  
Can never Fall,  
For Good and all,  
Whilst Life-time doth endure   

Though Tempests blow,  
Through Storms of Snow,  
Be of a steadfast mind,  
there's none needs care  
For Prince of Air,  
Whilst God rides on the Wind.   

He can no more,  
But only roar,  
And sue us, for his prey:  
But ten day's space  
Will turn the chase,  
And he will shrink away.    

Suspirium Regale: OR A Royal Sigh of King CHARLES the First, On His Arreignment.  Eccle. 8.4. 
Where the World of a King is there is Power, and who may say unto him what dost thou?  Chap. 10. Vers. 20. 
Curse not the King, no not in thy Thought, etc.  Job. 34.18. 
Is it fit to say to a King, thou art Wicked? and to Princes, ye are ?  

Betrayed by Tumults, to a Bloody War!  
And now Arreigned at black Rebellion's Bar!  
Where Lawless Law-pretending Traitors plead,  
Religiously, both for my Crown, and Head.  
Yet they to me the Privilege deny,  
To speak one Word, myself to justify.  
Is England's King become a home-born Slave?  
Both Life, and Liberty, to Beg, and Crave  
From those Bloodsucking Rebels, who proceeds  
From open Traitors, unto Regicides.  
Is this the fate of Kings? what then must be  
The just revenge of those who murder me?  
If Reason, Law, Religion, this allow  
To me their King, what dare injustice do  
To these few Loyal Subjects, who have stood  
With me in Tumults, to the Knees in Blood.  
Unhappy Nation thrice! that dost not know  
This Visitation day, and dismal blow.   

Yet in my rigid Fate, I'll Kiss the Rod;  
Submitting all (in Patience) to my God,  
Without who's Providence, there is not found  
A Lark, or Sparrow, falling to the ground.   

Then (since all beings bow at thy Command)  
Take Head, and Heart, and Crown, into thine Hand.  
Since thou my Friends removed haste from me,  
My Counsellor, Lord, and my Safeguard be.  
If thou thy Power, and Presence me bequeath;  
I shall be more than Conqueror in death.  
Though Faith be flown, and Truth hath taken wings;  
Let me prove Faithful, to the KING of KINGS.    

A Reflection, on the Arreigument OF King Charles the First.  
HEre lies Treason in a Trap,  
Rebellion did commit a rape  
On Loyalty, and Traitors bring  
The Brat of Treason, to the King:  
To Father the Hop-gobling Elf,  
Of Treachery, against Himself.  
Then Sophister you plainly lie,  
Quae malum cannot appeti;  
But it is true (as it is said)  
A Crown is of a Cobweb made.   

In memoriam Caroli primi docollati,  
Regis Magnae Brittanniae, Franciae, et Hiberniae, etc.  
CAROLUS REX: anagramma: Cras cro Lux.  
Ut CeCIDIt CaroLUs, CasU praeCIsUs atroCI,  
Cras LUX In CoeL ois, ClarIor InqUIt ero.  
Englished thus,  
When Charles did fall,  
And broke us all,  
Struck through with fatal Sorrow;  
He said, I see,  
That I shall be,  
A Star, in Heaven to morrow.   

An Elegy, On the Murder and Martyrdom of CHARLES the First: King of Great Britain, etc.  
'TIs said late times, and Ages could but bring  
Two names of good Kings graven in a Ring-three,  
But CHARLES the Great, and Good, augments them  
And leaves the World, a new TRIUMVIRS.  
A Black Swan sure: a KING! that did excel  
All Learned Subjects: under him did dwell  
In his Dominions; what could be the cause?  
'Gainst Wisdom, Knowledge, Reason, Natur's Laws;  
Great Britain slew itself, and Murdered  
Its greatest Honour, and cut off its Head.  
Religion killed the CHURCH; and LAW did fall;  
And LOYALTY did tax the Crown for all.  
Great Brittain's Blush, rigidity of Fate!  
Revenge, without the meanest cause of hate!  
A Pious King, and Master of such Reason!  
And Murdered Martyr, guilty of High Treason!  
'Gainst whom? I cannot tell; in Love, or Hate,  
Nor no Man else, but say it was his Fate.  
What Contradictions, and Enigmas lie  
Within the Riddle of this Cruelty!  
But by past Ages, tell me if ye saw  
KINGS cleared by Justice, and condemned by Law.  
What Law? Rebellion only, that dare bring  
Objections in, against a Lawful KING.  
But there's no need (in such Self-murdering Treason)  
To knock down Comradictions, by sound Reason.   

On the same.  

HEre lies Ashes pure, and just,  
More precious than the Guiny-dust:  
Our CHARLES, that was both Good, and Great,  
Whom Envy murdered in despite;  
Cause his Perfections did appeal  
The World, to show his Parallel.  
The cruel Draco, ne'er did bring  
A Law, to Murder any KING,  
But here s a Madness, made of Must,  
Which Rebels only own as Just.  
In Britain Great he once did Reign  
Both King, and Statesman, and Divine.  
But here his great Crime only stood;  
He was o'rballenced, with too good.  
But dying Martyr, now we see  
Non ultra in Humanity.   

Then Traitor tell me if you can,  
(Though two parts Pruit, and third part Man:)  
Was ever such a passage seen?  
Since Pilate pestered Palesteen.    

On the same.  
COuld Ashes speak, or Dust prove Eloquent.  
Dead Bones would cry, and Martyrs would lament  
This dismal Darkness, which did blind our Eyes;  
Which Law conceals, and History denies.  
This doleful Tragedy may let us see,  
That God's Perntissive (sometimes) in decree.  
That Men may know, that he can bring to pass  
Wisely his work, from Satan's Wickedness:  
Even so, he from this Super-Treason brings,  
True Loyalty, to all succeeding Kings.  
This Bloody, Brutish blow may well detect,  
What Treason is, and break Rebellion's Neck.  
For (though 'tis masked up, in a smiling dress)  
This turns it up, and shows its Nakedness.  
A Babel's Brat, Engraven with disgrace,  
A Regicide, with a Religious face.  
Here's REPUGNANTIA real, or at least  
Hirco-Cervus, or such another beast.  
A show of Law, which such sine tricks contains,  
Can cut off Kings, and break the hearts of Queens.  
Great Brittain's MONARCH speechless here doth lie;  
But cries aloud the Nation's Treachery.  
His very Name foretold his future state,  
By Anagram, Cras ero Lux; by Fare.  
Which Divine Providence to him foretold,  
The day before he Suffered, to uphold  
Him in his Death; though some ambitious Men  
Usurp the Glory, to their peddling Pen.  
His Kingdom was his Cross which now doth burn,  
And melts all Loyal hearts, to Sigh, and Mourn.  
He famous was in Life, and Death: yet I  
Can wish his Life to live, his Death to die.   

CHARLES STUART.  
Anagram.  
THUS A CLEAR STAR, did only set, not die:  
Parenthisized, not ended Monarchy.  
King CHARLES the Second, in the Oak.  
PRetending Salus Populi,  
To be Suprema LEX;  
Here CAROLUS was forced to fly,  
When Murdered was REX.  

Arbour honoretur, Cujus nos Umbra tuetur:    
Heb. 5.8. 
Although he was the Son, yet did he learn Patience by Suffering.  

BEhold and See,  
Upon this Tree,  
The tasteless Fruit, of Treason.  
Whereby we know,  
That here below,  
Is little Truth, or Reason.   

There's nothing sure,  
That doth endure,  
By Fate, or Chance, (choose either)  
Here sits upon  
This Wooden Throne,  
Both KING, and PRINCE, yet neither.   

Lo every Bough,  
That here doth grow,  
Make haste, they know not whether;  
And envelop,  
Upon his Top,  
To Crown him altogether.   

Each Leaf I'll name  
A Diadem;  
O Cruel English Nation!  
These trifles be  
More true than thee,  
Lo here's a Demonstration.   

Then Britain Great,  
This Emblem write,  
And grave it on thy Nature.  
That henceforth thou  
May still prove true,  
And never play the Traitor.    

On the Return of CHARLES the Second King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, etc.  Psal. 126.1. 
When the Lord turned again the Captivity of Zion: we were like them that Dream.  
WHen I cast up our by past Miscries,  
And set our Floods of Blood, before mine eyes:  
And then behold our now-returning King;  
I'm ready both (at once) to Weep and Sing.  
But Melancholy, hold; for why should I  
My smile of gladness, from this joy deny?  
Since Providence dispenseth us, apace  
Such Miracles of Mercy, Acts of Grace.  
As lately would have forced a Statesman say,  
Such things may be, but per possibile.  
Our Lawful King, whom we had lost before,  
No Host of Men; but Angels doth restore.  
Who's Royal Peace-portending Sceptre shows,  
What Love he to his Loyal Subjects owes:  
His flaming Sword of Justice doth descry,  
All Traitors ought, but Regicides must die.  
Justice and Mercy, sets us up on high:  
Not as an Object of a new envy;  
But that (with Interest) they may us restore  
All that we lost, in Civil-War before.  
Thus 'tis most true, what (commonly) is said,  
A Morning clear, succeeds an Evening red.   

A Mournful Elegy, ON The Deplorable Death, of the Thrice Virtuous, Religious, and Renowned MARY, Queen to CHARLES the First, King of Great Britain, etc.  
HEre lies she that up did rear,  
By stooping to a higher Spher●  
Of Virtue; where her Memory  
Shall ever live, and never die.  
She was our Queen, but we ingrate,  
Threw fuel to her frowning Fate:  
Who both by Birth, Worth, and Renown,  
Deserved a Kingdom, both, and Crown:  
Yet she by Fate (or Fortune rather)  
Had both, and yet possessed neither.  
She was a Mary by her Grace,  
An Angel by her comely Face,  
Who's Parts, and Person, I may call  
(In most respects) Reciprocal,  
She with her King, our CHARLES the good,  
Was almost sunk in Seas of Blood.  
But both endured the Tempest's rage,  
And swum a patiented Pilgrimage.  
Then MARY (since you overcame)  
Take ARMY for your Anagram.   

CAROLISMUS. Or, The Loyal Patient, on the Sovereign touch.  

MOunt Divine Muse, with Loyal Wings, and fly  
Above the Sphere of common Poetry.  
Touch the Celestial Orbs, and sweetly sing,  
And celebrate the praises of a King:  
A King who's Race (unless experience lie)  
Doth bear the Tincture, of a Deity:  
Who from his Cradle upward, bore his Cross  
Through Seas of Blood; who's Billows did him toss  
From Kingdom, (both, and Crown,) but (all in vain)  
The King of Kings restored them both again.  
Yet (though the Crown be purified from dross)  
The Kingdom (sometimes) makes him bear his Cross.  
But Providence, Iscariot Plots detects;  
And turns them round upon the Traytour's necks.  
Then Babel's brood, smell (Pope-adoreing band).  
A Sweaty Toe: I'll Kiss a Sacred Hand,  
Who's Health-restoring Faculty is such,  
It cures Diseases, by a Sovereign Touch.  
Not by your Ripmish, ●hocus, hear-say tricks:  
Nor Babylonian, Holywater bricks.  
Nor is't a vain sophisticate Relation,  
Of Pro, or Con, but real Demonstration.   

Hence then hoodwinked Impostors; get ye gone,  
Church- Mountebanks, slain of Religion;  
Who Controversy end, but in Contention:  
And work your Miracles, by Apprehension.    

To His Royal Highness JAMES Duke of York. JAMES STEWART: anagram: I: MASTER AT SEA.  

ONe's Name, and Fate, do oft agree:  
So may it with your Highness be,  
Successful, both at Lund, and Sea.   

On leaving the W●●out of the preceding Anagram.  
THe Royal Name will not admit  
A W, to dwell in it;  
Then to the Royal Race, and True,  
Be Real, Loyal, Single U.   

JAMES Duke of York. Anagram: Fa. Jes. do my Work.  
I shall not care at all what Men can say,  
So long as great Jehovah beats the sway.  
Meditatio Reg alis De Curiae Conjuration ibus.  
Ejaculatio Spiritu alis In Curiae Conjuration es.   Eccles. 1.14. 
I have seen all the Works that are done under the Sun, and behold all is Vanity and Vexation of Spirit.  Psal. 58.6. 
Break their teeth O God in their Mouth:  

Meditatio Regalis.  
THe Life of Man  
Is but a Span,  
That endeth like a Taper.  
A Royal Crown  
May tumble down:  
Promotion's but a Vapour.   

Ejaculatio Spiritualis.  
Since thine's the Right,  
(Withal my might)  
Good God, I unto thee,  
Both me, and mine;  
Do all resign;  
But only stand for me.   

Meditatio.  
The Church doth moan,  
The State doth groan,  
And no man knows the Reason.  
The Court doth cry  
Conspiracy;  
The Country echoes Treason.   

Ejaculatio.  
Iscariots,  
And and all their Plots,  
Lord frustrate: and deliver  
Both me, and all  
Who on thee call;  
That thou may'st reign for ever.   

Meditatio.  
Strength, Wit, and Wealth,  
Beauty, and Health,  
Are all but Shadows flying:  
there's none that's sure  
To live one Hour;  
Our whole Life's but a dying.   

Ejaculatio.  
In Earth, and Heaven,  
All Power is given,  
Lord Jesus unto thee;  
Then (bythy might)  
Own thou my right;  
My Sword, and Safeguard be.   

Meditatio.  
Our Life doth run,  
Below the Sun,  
there's nothing that abideth;  
'Tis here to day;  
But flies away;  
And in a Moment fadeth.   

Ejaculatio.  
Let Justice reign,  
The Gospel shine,  
Faith, Truth, and Mercy be  
Our aim; that all  
(What e'er befall)  
May Centred be in thee.    

Bellum Intestinum: A Battle 'twixt, Nature, and Grace: Or, A Conference between the Watchful Shepherd, and the Sleepy Soul.  Gen. 25.23. 
The Elder shall Serve the Younger.  Cant. 5.4. 
My Beloved put in his Hand by the hole of the Door, and my Bowels were moved for him.  Rev. 3.20. 
Behold I stand at the Door, and knock,  Shepherd. 
Awake, poor Soul, and come away  
From sleep of Sin, 'tis break of day;  
Make haste; there's no time to delay.  Soul. 

Thy Invitation I deny:  
In Worldly Pleasures I do lie;  
Too sweet (so soon) to be laid by,   

Let those who are decripit Old,  
Delight to hear such tidings told;  
When spring of Youth turns winter cold.   Shepherd. 

Me, Angel's praise, and Men adore;  
The Devils tremble, Seas doth roar,  
Yet flows no further than her shore.   

I with my Hand the Heavens do span,  
The Wind bind in my fist I can,  
Yet my delight still is with Man.   

I died, that I Death's Death might be.  
I gave my Life, for life to thee:  
And must I thus requited be?   

Poor Soul, thy Life is but a flower,  
That springs, and withers in an hour:  
And Satan stands before the Door.   

If Death step in, and but make bold  
Thy short life's Riddle to unfold.  
where's spring of Youth, or winter cold?   Soul. 

I can not leave my Glass of Wine,  
My dainty fare, Apparel fine,  
For things, they tell me are Divine.   

I must carouse a while, and rant:  
My Revelling's I will not want;  
And yet (for all) I'll die a Saint.   Shepherd. 

Can Dark, and Light together dwell?  
The one, the other, doth expel.  
Such Saints are turned into Hell.   

Take but a sound advice of me;  
Leave off the World's base Slave to be▪  
An Hundred fold I'll pay to thee.   

Thy Life is but a Sorrow's scheme,  
Thy Pleasures are but flying fame,  
And dross to what should be thy aim.   Soul. 

Then tell but what thou'lt give to me?  
And what I must pay back to thee?  
Or if I shall receive all free?   

And I will leave this World behind,  
And follow thee; because I sinned  
My joys do but molest my mind.   Shepherd. 

My Name is Wisdom; and I stand  
Far off; and yet I'm nigh at hand:  
He's Wise, that answereth my Command.   

Thou shalt have me (without a sting)  
Can make the Dead, Rivive, and Sing;  
Content (in heart) like any King.   

And what I give, I give it free;  
All beings do belong to me:  
Non entities I call to be.   

When thou was't Sin, and Satan's slave;  
I suffered Death, thy Life to save;  
And ransomed poor thee, from the Grave.   

I have the Host of Hell withstood.  
I Purified thee with my Blood.  
And this I did, all for thy good.   

And now (lest Sorrow on the seize)  
I'm come to give thee (if thou please)  
Sweet rest, instead of sensual ease.   

Thou shalt have earnest in this Life;  
I'll be thy Husband, thou my Wife:  
I'll keep thee, in the day of strife.   Soul. 
Put I'm afraid my Faith decay.  
And if I faint, and fall away;  
Then there's no after- time to Pray.  Shepherd. 

I'll love thee freely, and I'll cure  
All thy ●ack- slidings; keep thee sure,  
As long as life-time doth endure.   

I'll tie, and draw the up above,  
With threefold Cord, Faith, Hope, and Love;  
And keep thee spotless, like a DOVE.   

I have a way the Lion's paw  
Ne'er traced in strength of common Law,  
Nor Valtur's eye yet ever saw.   

Then follow me, and do not budge;  
The stroke of Justice never grudge:  
I'll be thy Advocate, and Judge.   

I (by my Spirit) will repel  
The Devils, who are the gates of Hell:  
And thou with me shalt ever dwell.   

I'll Pilot thee unto that shore,  
Where neither Sea, nor Billows roar:  
Nor Satan gives a broad side more.   

To Heaven of Heavens I will thee bring;  
Thou shalt be Subject, I'll be KING:  
Where thou shalt never sigh but sing.   

My Face (for Beauty) thou shalt see:  
For Riches, Pearl I'll give to thee;  
And for my Cross, thy Crown I'll be.   

there's ever Light, and wholesome Air:  
For Food, and Raiment, take no care:  
'Tis always Spring, no Winter there.   

Then hast thou Wife, or hast thou none;  
Bring Company, or come aboue,  
Unto thy Host, it is all one.   

there's Rooms enough, none needs to pry,  
They're neatly hung, the fabrick's high:  
But none comes in that makes a lie.   Soul. 

I rise, I come, I run, I fly  
My dearest Idol, I deny.  
I'll follow thee, until I die.   

If to the exit of my Breath,  
Thy Power, Spirit, thou bequeath,  
I shall endure the sharpest Death.    

PROMOTION.  Esther 7.9. 
And the King said, hang him thereon.  
PROMOTION is the Pinnacle, from whence  
Pride breaks the neck of a good Conscience.  
A tottering Pyramid of guilded Sorrow,  
That's built to day, & thrown quite down to morrow:  
For 'tis th' ambitious Man's Eye-soar to see  
One great; and himself unadvanced to be,  
Then leave the Court, and learn at home to dwell;  
Lest that you end like wise Achitophel.   

To a great Oppressor.  Prov. 22.16. 
He that Oppresseth the Poor to increase his Riches, and he that giveth to the Rich, shall surely come to want.  
IF I should a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 hold,  
(As did Pithagor a●) I likewise would  
(By Consequence) affirm, and prove it too:  
That Nero's Ghost inhabited in you.  
Except (in this) you differ much from him;  
That he was good in his Quinquennium.  
But you are Ill, and ever ●ave been so,  
A Basuisk when in your Embryo.  
Poor Men, and Beggars, you may freely kill;  
Because you make as many as you will.   

On the Q. M.  
REligion in a twilight-skie,  
Of wandering dark Apostasy,  
The Universe surveyed; to find  
Devotion in a sincere mind.  
And with a serious look did spy,  
Our Queen's unspotted Majesty:  
Whose Orb of Virtue up did rear,  
Above a Vicious Hymisphere.  
And coming near unto her Face,  
To add a gale unto her Grace;  
She from the World (secure in Sin)  
Risen up, and took Religion in.  
Where (like a Lamp, in flaming Zeal)  
It burns without a parallel.  
For if a blemish Faith admit,  
A Pious Life can cover it.  
Can Bodies but: as Souls be prized,  
And matter be spiratualized,  
I should determine her to be  
Angelical, in Pedigree.  
She is so pure, that sure she must  
Be Transubstantiate, out of Dust.  
She's freed from, Passion, Hate, and Spite:  
For Innocence, an Adamite:  
Then learned Reader, tell (I pray)  
If Angels can be made of Clay.   

On the D. Y.  
YOu half completed Ladies all,  
Whose Parts, and Virtues are but small:  
Would you Perfection's pattern see?  
For Wisdom, and for Gravity.  
This Lady's Idea take, and place  
As't were a Glass; before your Face:  
That when you cast your Eye upon her,  
You mind your Virtue, both and Honour.  
And (tracing her) your Fame may rear,  
And fly up, to a higher Sphere.  
Her Name, her Fame, and real Grace  
Make up a Consort, in her Face.  
Which (Music like) without disguise,  
Doth charm, not cheat beholders eyes.  
Her praises no Man can rehearse  
Enough; in prose, nor yet in verse.  
Believe, or not, then choose you whether,  
But England show me such another.   

On a Beautiful Young Lady.  
ONce Beauty, Virtue, Wisdom, Grace,  
convened in a certain place.  
And altogether did combine,  
To make a Feminine Divine:  
And flying swiftly on apace,  
Did light upon this Lady's face:  
And having all they stood in need,  
They to the Work did thus proceed.  
BEAUTY (to make her all delight)  
Did bring a Rose, was red, and white:  
And in a smiling Blush did skip,  
From Cherry Cheek, to Scarlet Lip.  
Then VIRTUE laughed at Beauty's weed,  
As needful but Secundum quid.  
And (with a gentle flame) refined  
Her eye, the Index of her mind.  
Then WISDOM Virtue gave a check,  
And did her oversight detect;  
In over-sparkling of her Eye,  
To tempt to Vite, or breed enny.  
Then having (with a piercing flash)  
Made Virtue proof, of Beauty's dash.  
The one she ballenced with the other;  
That both might live, and die together.  
Then GRACE. came in a gentle gale,  
And set her Soul all under sail.  
And (nimbly) flew a modest race,  
With all the three, and gained her face:  
And from her Mouth, and sparkling Eye;  
O'er spread her whole Physiognomy.  
Yet she no Critic did commence,  
To Reason slight, or banish Sense,  
Or set at nought the other three;  
Because of her precedency.  
But granted them a dwelling place,  
Within the Suburbs of her Face:  
Subjecting only them to pay  
Devotion's Tribute, every day.   

A Divine Poem, on the Unparallelled and Religious Mrs. M. F.  

GOD said to Jeremy seek out, and find,  
A Righteous Man● thats of an● 〈◊〉  
Who seeketh Truth, and Judgement, and for him  
I'll freely pardon all Jerusalem.  
These are the latter days, wherein abound  
All Heresies, and Faith can scarce be found:  
Yet in this Woman, Mortals all may see  
A Demonstration, of Divinity.  
In Infancy, all her Acquaintance knew,  
She promised Fruit, before her Blossom blew,  
But when the Vintage of her age drew nigh,  
She yielded Grapes, was ripe in Piety.  
Her thoughts are all Seraphic Meditations,  
Her words are pure, Divine Ejaculations.  
Her works are such, that in the darkest night,  
To wandering Souls they give a joyful light.  
She knows to quote the Scriptures in each part,  
As if she had the Bible, all by heart.  
Her Heart and Soul, in prayer and praises pants,  
For Faith, that once was given to the Saints.  
She in the Truth, resolves to live and die,  
And fight the whole World of Apostasy.   

Then spare us Lord (according to thy Word)  
And view this Woman, e'er thou draw thy Sword.  
Yet though the World (to us) may seem to lie  
Blind in a Mist, of dark Apostasy:  
Yet thy allseeing eye, can see and keep;  
More than seven thousand, marked for thy Sheep.    

On Mrs. S. G.  
I love a comely Maid, whose face  
Doth promise Virtue, Wisdom, Grace.  
And in her smiling blush, and eye,  
The Summe of all P●●fections lie.  
She's none of those spends half the day,  
In pinning fine, and goes to play.  
But in a plain, (yet comely) dress;  
Looks smartly after business.  
This is the Pearl which I do prize;  
The spotless Object, of mine eyes.   

To Mrs. S. G.  
THy comely face, and steadfast eye,  
Thy Wisdom, Virtue, Chastity,  
Did (with a blushing flash divine)  
Subdue this little World of mine.  
Subjecting humbly me, to pay  
My sighs for Tribute, every day,  
'Tis quite against the Law of War,  
To murder any Prisoner:  
And chief me, who did surrender  
To thee, a Feminine Commander,  
Then let me dwell (though live or die)  
Under the Sunshine of your eye.  
For if your frown of Life deprive,  
Your smiling ●●ok can make alive.  
Then Phillis dear it is my will  
That I remain in Prison still:  
For if thy Heart my Prison be,  
My Thraldom shall be more than free.   

An Acrostic on Mrs. J. H.  

Invincible cruel, yet love's All-delight.  
Admirable comely, that Suitors dost slight.  
Ne'er think a Complexion composed of Clay,  
Endureth for ever, and ne'er will decay.   

Hark here in thine ear, and I'll tell thee the truth:  
Once when a Maid passeth the flower of her youth,  
Regraiting she oft doth exclaim (though in vain)  
To think that she Love, did requite with disdain.  
O then be not cruel, but take to a Mate.  
Nothing than Old Maids, is more out of date.    

On Mrs. E. F.  
GRave Beauty, Wisdom, Chastity,  
Flew up into Perfection's sky:  
T'spy a Virgin, did excel,  
With which they could both live and dwell.  
And as they seriously did view  
The Latitude of fifty two:  
On London's Change, they there did see  
A Lady FRANK, but nothing free.  
And as they viewed her over and over,  
They liked her still the more and more.  
Yea when they had severely proved her,  
In all respects, the more they loved her.  
And did determine her to be  
Of Maids, the sole Monopoly.  
Erected in a public place,  
To serve them for a Looking-Glass.  
Therefore they flew into her Face,  
Possessing each their proper place;  
Concluding all to keep her sure,  
As long as Life-time should endure.  
Then Lovesick Lovers, all in fire,  
That●s almost ready to expire,  
Draw the Effiges of her face;  
So comely, and so full of Grace.  
She'll cure you of your vain disease,  
And set your Languished Soul at ease:  
Unless you with a wanton eye,  
Commit a Rape o● Chastity:  
And force her frown, (instead of smile)  
To cause you Penance do a while;  
'Mongst those who strive (although in vain)  
To gain Affection, by a stain.  
For though at first she seem to be  
United, to Complaisancie:  
To shun Extremes, she well doth know,  
That V●rtue in a midst doth go.  
Her Face says Come; Heart, Get ye gone:  
The Torrid, and the Frozen-Zone,  
Are so well placed within her Sphere,  
That one can with another bear.  
Yet he that would his bold Arms make,  
This little World's, proud Zodiac  
Of all the Signs. must admit none,  
But purest Virgo all alone.   

A Passionate Love-Complement TO Mrs. R. G.  

O thou my Heart, and Soul's delight!  
And Idol of mine eye!  
That's Red, and Alablaster-white,  
In thy Physiognomy:  
O that thou wouldst but yield to me,  
That little World of thine:  
I more than Conquerout should be,  
And (like a Monarch) reign.   

Was ever one of Adam's Race  
Complete, in every part,  
So amiable in the Face,  
And loveless in the Heart.  
Can not my Floods drown thy disdain,  
Thy frowning Tempest suage;  
Nor fainting flaming Heart, once gain  
No ground, nor Weather-gage.   

Rebecca fair did greatly fear,  
When Nature strove with Grace:  
And thou her Namesake now dost bear  
A Cruel, smiling-face.  
Then let old Hate to Love succumb,  
The Triumph shall be mine;  
And when our Marriage day shall come,  
Thou wilt be all Divine.    

The Luke-warn Lover: OR A Poem sent by J. F. to his Slighting Mrs.  

POor simple Girl, thinkest thou that I  
Am so Lovesick for thee to die.  
Or that my Reason cannot rear,  
Above a Female Hemisphere.  
Or that my Intellects came so rash on.  
T'ensave my Soul, to love's sweet passion.  
No not to think be not so vaini  
That I'm all Liver, and no Spleen:  
And that my Fancy's bound in Duty,  
On'y to dote upon your Beauty.  
The supersices of a face,  
If destitute of inward Grace,  
Is but a Hedge-Hogg, in disguise,  
To cheat, and charm Beholder's eyes.  
Then speak your Mind, and be not Mute:  
I'm downright, be you obsolute.  
As Love that's Lazy towards Marriage,  
Break's off, and endeth in Miscarriage.  
And (for the most part) it is seen,  
That Maids (in age) about sixteen,  
Have more Sweethearts, to suit and woo them;  
Then ever after do come to them.  
Then stand not out, but take advice:  
A maid straitlaced yields little price.  
For she that's of a slighting mind,  
And laughs at Suitors, oft doth find  
The Rose and Lally of her May,  
To fade and whither quite away.  
When Nature cries, Thou Fool give place  
To Hoary Hairs, and wrinkly face,  
She'll Sigh and Sing, that dismal Song;  
I have remained a Maid too long:  
And wish to have (although in vain)  
A slighted Suitor back again   

In fine fair Maid, forbear to scoff:  
I do draw near, stand you not off:  
If you slight me as heretofore,  
I'll never henceforth love you more.    

Love's Valedictory: OR J. G. His Farewell to his Mrs.  

SHall I to one,  
Whose Heart's like Stone,  
Imprisoned be in Love.   

And yet's but said,  
To be a Maid,  
And doth Inconstant prove.   

No sure I'll live a Caeleb life;  
A Monarch in my mind:  
Freed from the Furies of a Wife,  
That's constant like the Wind.    

〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 OR A Word-fight betwixt an English Man, a Dane, and a Dutch.  

A Dutch, a Dane, and English Man,  
Carousing with a merry Can.  
Did (when their Brains were set on high)  
Strive for Superiority.  
And (in a rant) began to bring  
Their Glory, from the great King.  
The English said (as in a huff)  
Mine's Brittain's King; and that's enough,  
Whom I in no respect will stage  
With any King, that's in this age.  
Then said the Denmarker; 'tis true,  
〈◊〉 Dutch and Dane succumb to you:  
Your King unparelleled most be,  
As sole Commander, of the Sea.  
The great Mogul thus giveth doom;  
On him:" He slights the Pope of Rome,  
" Nor would he give a Scot's Bo-bee,  
" For Brother O●toman, and me.  
And yet our royal race renowned,  
Hath been with Glory's greatness crowned:  
And in this one thing equals yours:  
In being chosen Emperors.  
And what is more our ANN: (by name)  
Did wear your Royal Diadem.  
Yea all the Glory, and Renown  
That hangs upon Great Brittain's Crown.  
(In some respect) belongeth now  
To De●mark, and to Holland too,  
Since, etc.   

When York and Lanchaster did bring  
Their Hoody War, within a Ring.  
To see it was a great delight,  
The red Rose hug, and kiss the white.  
The flaming Sword before that burned  
Unto a Setpter, straight was turned.  
Even so since Denmark, and the States  
Of Holland, be unite by Mates,  
To England's Royal Race, and sky  
Of unecclipsed Majesty.  
Let no old rancour, hence remain  
Twixt Britain, Saxon, Scot, or Dane.  
Nor let no Controversy be,  
Nor Bloody War, by Land, or Sea.  
But saves your lives, etc.   

The Dutch Man hearing this grew bold,  
And Swearing Sacrament, he told,  
On's heerlijk Hendrick Broeder Deen,  
Brave grave van Nassow, ook van Spain,  
Prins van Oranje, needs must be  
The tweed Ruler of the Sea.  
He's Hogan Mogan, na Dane blester.  
Daer he Getrouwt, etc.  
A Sturdy Scot, than started up;  
And Preached thus o'er a rowzing Cup,  
God bless them all by Land, and Sea,  
And her's a Health, to all the three.    

Apage Satan: OR A Poem on the Turk's defeat at Vienna.  

HOld Passenger and gently jog;  
I'll tell thee news of Hamon-gog:  
A Beastlike Man, half Horse and Hogg:  
Was ape to Alexander.  
Who (confidently) did presume,  
That he could conquer Christendom,  
And overthrow the Pope of Rome;  
And be the World's Commander.   

Therefore he did together call,  
His Janissaries great and small:  
And he on Germany did fall:  
And camped against Vienna.  
But as his Mufty up did rear,  
This new Seraglio, in the Air,  
The Christians panted forth a prayer,  
Did fright him like Gehenna.   

There came an Army from the East,  
Resolved the Riddle of the Beast,  
Made Magog march, and fly in haste,  
And leave his Tools behind him.  
But now (as mad in great despair)  
He threatens Pope, and Prince of Air:  
Therefore let Christians all take care,  
For chains of Balls to bind him.   

His Holiness, and Majesty  
Called Christian; can not well deny,  
To aid the Germane with supply,  
That never will surrender.   

Then Hogan Mogan, Sweed and Dane,  
Unite your Forces all with Spain:  
Let Brittain's Menarch rule the main;  
And prove true Faith's Defender.   

He's a Pedantic, Pedlame- Tom,  
That fights a Neighbour King at home,  
To pimp the Turk, to Christendom:  
To cause the fire run further.  
He to Grand Signior quotes an ace,  
That Ottoman may turn the chase,  
And root out every Royal race,  
And Loyal Subjects Murder.   

The wandering World see with their eyes,  
Who 'tis himself that deifies,  
The Father and the Son denies,  
And since the Beast is wounded:  
Pray live in peace and love, at home,  
And fight the Foe of Christendom,  
That he whose right it is may come,  
And Babel be confounded.    

Rejoice in Triumph: OR A Plaudite on the Ottoman's defeat at Vienna.  

I'm glad to hear the Cannon roa●,  
Resounding from the Germane shore,  
Better news, than heretofore:  
That Babel's Beast is wounded.  
Than Christians brave, both all, and some,  
Charge with Horse and Kettledrum,  
The Enemy of Christendom;  
Till Turks be quite confounded.   

The King of Poland in a phrase,  
The great Grand Signior did amaze;  
And with a noise his siege did raise,  
Courageous Solymanus  
If thou resolv'st to come again,  
Thou must recruit both might, and main:  
Or else it will be all in vain,  
To think that thou'lt trapan us?   

Fis Christian Majesty of France,  
Doth Booty play, the Germane dance,  
And he doth laugh at our mischance,  
Himself he dare not venture.  
But pimp the Beast, to Babel's Whore,  
And he Bopeep stand, at the door,  
Until the wanton Cannon roar:  
Then Hector like he'll enter.   

But shit on Turk, and great Mogul,  
A Pox upon the Scarlet Trull:  
And we the Poppy too dare pull,  
If CHARLES but be Commander.  
For (though the neutral seem to be)  
He can command both Land and Sea,  
And overthrew the big-looked three;  
And trace brave Alexander.   

Then let no rancour joined with hate,  
Make Ruptures in the Church or State:  
But all submit to divine fate,  
And keep within our border.  
Let none old England then forsake;  
Since Crowns and Kingdoms lie at stake,  
A Foreign War to undertake,  
Till CHARLES give further order.   

The Germane tell that heretofore  
They Captive took one Bull and Boar;  
The Minotaurus of a Whore,  
That roared like any thunder.  
Then P. P. could this be,  
The Bugg-bear ramphant of the Sea,  
Whose army was to fight with thee,  
And force the World to wonder.   

But Ottoman pray get thee gone:  
The Christians do but draw you on,  
They'll greater booty have or none,  
And if you'll not prevent it  
If e'er you turn your Face this way,  
We'll make the Cannon Music play,  
And you must dance the Yorkshire hay,  
Till all your Bawds lament it.   

Then fill the Pisspot to the Swine,  
Heap me a rousing Glass with Wine,  
The dancing Thames shall pledge the Rhyne,  
And Tiber shall be Prese.  
Then here's to CHARLES that rules the main,  
To Poland, Holland, Sw●ed, and Dane:  
To Germany, and brave Lorraine,  
But pray you Potus ne sis.    

A Song, Sung by the Greenwich-Green-coats, to show their thankfulness, to their adopted Father, and Entertainer; The Right Honourable, Sr. William Boreman, Knight.  

SOme do conclude  
Ingratitude,  
To be the chief of Evils:  
And every Brat,  
That is Ungrate,  
Not like to Men, but Devils.  
Then why should I  
My Mite deny;  
I'll pay it every hour Man;  
My voice I'll raise,  
My God to praise,  
And bless Sir William Boreman.   

He doth me feed,  
And likewise breed,  
In Fruitful education.  
Whereby I know,  
To undergo  
A Christian vocation.  
If speechless I  
Were like to die,  
And but to live an hour Man:  
My leaping Heart  
Should play its part,  
And sigh Sir William Boreman.   

A thing that's bought  
Is good for nought  
And filthy Lucre merely:  
But he did bring  
An Offering,  
Was good, and gave it freely.  
My God above  
I'll fear and love,  
Though I should die a poor Man.  
I'll Honour bring,  
Unto my King,  
And bless Sir William Boreman.   

All gifts decay,  
And fade away;  
But Divine love doth never.  
'tis always seen  
To Flourish Green,  
And doth endure for ever.  
My comely dress,  
That's Green like Grass,  
Shows that it will endure then,  
T' immortalize,  
And canonize,  
The brave Sir William Boreman.   

Then Green-coats all,  
Both great and small,  
I do you all adjure then;  
Both Night and Day,  
You ever pray,  
God Bless Sir William Boreman  
His obsequies  
Shall be our cries;  
His funeral our Mourning:  
Until he Fly  
Above the sky;  
From whence is no returning.    

A PROLOGUE To a play entitled, The Indian Empress.  
A TRAGEDY acted by some young Ladies at Green-wich.  

THis is that famous place, where once did dwell  
Our V●●gin Queen, who did her sex excel.  
Then we her t●ain may enter, (not intrude,  
With in her Sphere;) yet in her Latitude:  
To cheer our minds, beyond the sink of sorrow,  
As lesser Stars: Therefore we dare to borrow,  
A Beam of boldness, from her Midday sky;  
And paid in blushes, to her Memory.   

Then Noble Sirs, and virtuous Ladies all,  
And you beholding hearers, great, and small.   

weare not come here,  Fopp'ries to defray;  
D●●k riddles, and Enigmas to display:  
Nor Exorcisms, and spells of Eloquence,  
To captivate sound Reason, unto sense.  
Nor great exploits of valour to rehearse,  
Which ne'er was beard before; in Prose, or Verse:  
No no you are mistaken, pray forbear;  
Such Antic tricks are far below our Sphere.  
Of this our present Meeting, the intent  
Is but to have some grave divertisement:  
To elevate our modest minds on high,  
To chase black Melancholy, from the sky  
Of our chaste thoughts; which dare not once commence  
Beyond the blush, of modest confidence:  
Nor are we so much captivate with fears,  
To fawn our Words, in favour with your Ears:  
Nor lop the Logicks, for fine syllogisms;  
To dispossess your Minds of Criticisms.  
We no Apology to Critics make;  
Since what we please to give, they needs must take,  
Or let alone: because the very same  
May relish us, that favours not with them.  
And 'tis a Maxim, that he's ne'er at ease  
Who strives the humours of all men to please  
Yet hope the Dishes of this Tragick-feast  
Shall neither be so Tasteless, nor ill dressed;  
To cause the Taster, afterwards repent,  
Nor think when he is gone, the time ill spent.  
The subject's not so sour, but that one may  
Suck sweet from it, and carry wit away.  
None can expect a tender Bud that Springs,  
To equalise the Fruit, that Autumn brings  
The year is more than common kind to him,  
Who pulls ripe Grapes, before the vintage come.  
Even so the first Fruits of our sixteen years,  
Comes short to that which thirty and odd bears.  
Then (in good part) to take, pray be content,  
What humbly to your Patience, we present.  
And all we beg your clemency is this,  
You pick the good, and cover what's amiss.    

EPILOGUE.  
WE bring no after claps to sour your sweet,  
As when good fellows at a Taven meet:  
Who having sung, and drunk their sorrows down;  
The Landlord sings the dismal Reckoning Tune,  
We cure not Melancholy by disease;  
We crave no coin, nor thanks, unless you please,  
The tender buds of our young smiling spring  
We did present, a freewill offering.  
Thus if your Dishes have been badly d●est;  
Your Pockets are not with rewards oppressed.  
And yet this play no Prentice is in sport;  
It served its time (in Confidence) at Court.  
And what is more, (without a trembling fear)  
Found welcome access, to his Sacred E●r.  
I hope it may then with your credit stand,  
To taste his Dishes, though at second hand.  
For (though they be set in another frame.)  
The substance of the play is still the same.  
Yet all at first we proffered was this,  
Y'are welcome (if ye please) to share with us  
But if ye have not found a recreation,  
Agreeing to your Amorous expectation.  
weare not to blame, nor was it ever known,  
A Tree to bear; the Blossom yet unblown.  
Then pray accept (for all that is your due)  
This earnest of respects, we own to you:  
And we shall pay (when wit accutely bears,)  
Your sum of Service, in our riper years.   

Another PROLOGUE To Critics Auditors and Spectators.  
we're not come here, to please your Palates;  
By singing Tuns, and Rhyming Ballads:  
As if w' had nothing else to do,  
But cut out curious knacks for you:  
And as our actions did depend  
Upon a not concerned hand;  
No sure; we Act this Tragic play,  
No Masterpiece, but an Essay  
Of our fresh wits; and not of sense:  
To learn a Modest confidence.  
All wanton words we do defy,  
Our Tongues are tipped with Modesty;  
And all vain objects we despise;  
Behold us then with pure, chaste Eyes.  
And if your expectation find  
A Passage, pleasing to your mind,  
Thrice Noble Sirs, and Lady's grave,  
We humbly your acceptance crave.  
And this is all that we require,  
We shall fulfil our whole desire.  
But if it be your hardened will  
To Carp, and play the Critic still:  
The Garter Gamball we will dance,  
Called, Honi soit qui Maby pe●se.   

The A-B. C. On the slow building of St. Paul's Church.  2 Sam. 7: 2. 
The King said unto Nathan the Prophet, see now, I dwell in an House of Cedar, but the Ark of God dwelleth within Curtains.  

I Blush for shame, and sigh as I pass by;  
To see God's house, thus like a Dunghill lie.  
When City, and the Suburbs both are done,  
And built in querpo-cut, with B●ick, and Stone.  
This Demonstration is enough, to prove  
Us froze in Zeal, and but luck-warm in Love.  
Our Saviour went, us Mansiones to prepair,  
And shall not we this one Hou's ruins rear,   

I'll say no more, but sigh, and pray, that we,  
May our King CHARLES the Zerobabel see.    

AN ELOGIUM, On D. C. Minister of Margot, in the Isle of Thannet.  
THis is the Pearl-like-Porch, through which first came  
The Gospel-light, to our Jerusalem:  
Which with a gracious Gale, or splendent ray,  
Did blow, and banish Atheism away.  
The Divine Porter of this Sacred gate  
Is one, whom Church, and State Homologate.  
No Wolf, nor Hireling, nor the World's Slave.  
But left the Fleece, that he the Flock might save.  
No private malice, nor hypocrisy.  
Doth choke his word, 'ere it can Fructify.  
No legal War, compulsion, nor constraint,  
Doth force his Flock (in frowns) to pay him rend.  
He cares to seed the old, with divine truth;  
And in good learning, educate their youth.  
His fervent prayers prevail at Sea and Land;  
With him who made the Sand, a swaddling band.  
He prays his People safe, and they do bring  
A gratis gift, or freewill offering.  
Thrice happy Preacher, yea and hearers all;  
Where both embrace, in Love reciprocal.  
O Divine Saint! in all respects complete;  
Who in the fall of Years sends forth such fruit.  
The Island I In terminis appeal,  
To show another, that's his Parellel.   

His R. H. D. Y. to S. G. G. H. When he was made Chancellor of S.  

DEserving Subject, of a Loyal Name;  
Which to our Race, hath ever proved the same  
The Chanc'lor's place we do confer on you,  
As earnest, of your sum of merits due.  
Till Death, not fault; that cannot be supposed  
In you, we have such confidence reposed.  
It were a the's well worthy of the Press,  
If Loyalty such can take more or less.  
Then grudge not envy; though I dearly prise  
His Son; who died Rebellion's Sacrifice,  
For him— But hold my Passion I'll refrain,  
Lest I discover Brittain's blot again.   

Thrice Loyal then, mind (and I'll add no more)  
What Phoebus said to Phaeton before.    

The London-Folly.  Act. 18.23. 
For as I passed by and beheld your Devotions, etc.  
IN London, as I walked up Fish-street Hill,  
I saw a Tower or Altar (which ye will)  
Whose lofty top was clevate so high,  
It touched the Clouds I thought, and pierced the Sky.  
I had concluded (but I saw it Stone)  
That it had been the Tower of Babylon.  
I could not read th' Inscription, which it had;  
But meeting with a Passenger, I said;  
Pray Sir, what means this Fancy, and what need  
Is there of such a stately Pyramid.  
My Friend (said he) our City hath been burned  
Of late, and unto dust and ashes turned.  
Therefore we built this Tower of hewn Stone:  
A Monument thereof, to watch upon,  
And this our case at present doth require,  
Lest that we perish from the Earth, by Fire.  
I answered, it had been more Christian,  
T' have built a Church, where first the Fire began;  
A place convenient both for Prayer and Praising,  
And not an Object only fit for gazing.  
Though Night & Day, you keep by Might & Main,  
Unless God watch the City; als in vain.  
But I admire the Fancy, and can tell,  
I saw a Statue-Steeple without a Bell;  
And 'tis Devotions Paradox, to see  
A Chimney set up, where a Church should be.   

The French Tropic-bird Or Madam Travalzie's Train.  

HA' ha' a Woman with a Tail!  
That's full six yards long, and a nail:  
Of all vain fashions this is one,  
Was never seen by Solomon.  
Shall I believe mine own Eyes,  
That gravity suits such disguise.  
An object such I never saw,  
But Sheep once in Arabia.   

O pardon Madam my mistake,  
I took you for a Rattle-snake;  
Or else the bird that's called Cuckoo,  
That keeps a subsequent like you.  
But Lady Long-tail if you please,  
I will you of your burden ease:  
Tie to your britch a bag to bear it,  
Your Jac●-page Rapier will not tear it.  
And you Tail-bearing Gentleman;  
Lest contrar-windes make Hurrican,  
When ●ou perceive, a North-east gale  
Stand clear, and hale the Mizen-sail.    

A POEM presented to one whose Loyal●y was Suspected.  

THese Wind-work vapours which do fly,  
Like Snowballs squirted at your sky,  
To batter down your Loyalty.   

Are but the emblems of disdain,  
Or Cobweb squibs, that's thrown in vain:  
which without blot, fall off again.   

Then let Beelzebub tear and shout  
Among the mad distracted rout,  
Till he come who can cast him out.    

A Reply to a Pasquil: OR A sound Advice to the Unknown Author of the Ironical Rhyme, or satire written on his Grace, the D. of M Entitled Jemmy Returned.  

PEace Poctasber, parasite of time;  
Thou slattering Sycophant, disgrace of rhyme:  
Who with Ironic jeers, dost strive to sport,  
And fawn thyself, in favour with the Court.  
Thinkest thou His Royal Highness, or the KING,  
Desires ‛ timist protaeus, to bring  
A Coward's quill, that's diped in disgrace:  
T' offiont his Son, and slain the Royal Race.  
The great Apostate Julian, taught thee this,  
To Murder Monmouth, with a Judas-Kiss.  
Pedantic Rymer, thy Muse is a Mine:  
Thy quil's the Arrow of a Porcupine.  
Which will at last turn Immanent, and dart  
The sqiut-eyed Archer, deeply to the Heart.  
Turn over the leaf, but of this present age,  
Bring Bo-peep's Pasquil's back upon the stage.  
Thou'lt find such Lybels (more than any thing)  
Bred Civil War; which murdered our King.   

Mind him who said: Insipid Wretch of Nature,  
I love the Treason, but I hate the Traitor.    

Perillu's Bull: OR A Blow to the Hangman.  
THou Homo-brutus (out of doubt)  
That's Beast within, and Man without;  
Whose Name's enough to over ve●  
Thee Hangman, or thee C●rnifex.  
Presum'st thou that thou'lt never die,  
But live to all Eternity:  
To shun the wages, of thy trade:  
Which Justice surely will have paid.  
Thou Wicked Wretch dost thou not fear,  
That thou'●t the Scape-goat, that dost bear  
The guilt of guiltless Blood that's shed,  
By False Accusers; and art made  
The Rod, of God's great Indignation:  
To Plague, and Punish every Nation.  
Know then thou Beast with Humane Face,  
As God to Man, giveth Grace for Grace.  
So he from him that hath not, taketh  
That little which he hath; and makes  
Him Execute his Just Decrees,  
Of Vengeance: a● to this agrees  
Proud Pharaoh, whom he did obdure,  
To show his Justice and his Power;  
And set him up, that he might be  
A Caveat, to Posterity.  
Then (to conclude) O Poor Man know,  
Offences sure must come; but woe  
To him, by whom: O thrice forlorn!  
It had been good he'd ne'er been born.   

On the Memory Of the Right Honourable, the Earl of OSSORY.  
Rebel's hold off, and Traitors come not nigh  
These Sacred ashes, of pure Loyalty.  
'Tis Ossory lies here, Good, Just, and Wise,  
Who stopped the Floodgate of your Villainies;  
Of noble Race, and of a Loyal Line;  
Politic Statesman, and a grave Divine,  
Courage in Heart, and victory in Hand:  
A brave Commander, both at Sea and Land.  
Had he but lived like others of his Race;  
And to his In●●ard joined his outward Grace.  
He from base Plots had cleared the Kingdom's sky;  
And freed the State from Clouds of Treachery;  
He'd turned the Chase; and forced (within a while)  
Grim-looked Rebellion blush into a smile.  
Gr●at Britain sighs, and Ireland loud doth cry;  
The States of Holland wipe a watery Eye.  
The love of all he had, of none the Hate;  
The Church Companion, and a Friend to State.  
I think I hear his mourning echo cry,  
Religion, Wisdom, Valour, Loyalty.   

An ELEGY, ON Mr. John Forbes, late Sheriff of Aberdeen in Scotland.  

HEre lies his dust, who did himself behave  
In all respects, both Loving, Wise, and Grave.  
A Man of Learning, Knowledge, and such Grace;  
As did become his Pedigree, and place.  
In Righteous Causes, he did never grudge,  
To play the part of Advocate and Judge.  
He all his life time, kept before his Eye,  
The Principle, of real Piety.  
He starved the mouth of Envy, and did gain  
The love of those once had him in disdain.  
A man of Courage, yet base broils abhorred;  
And brought all discords unto Bon-accord.  
Now Oratrie, and all the Muses nine,  
Are not enough his person to define.  
For when the King of Terrors took him hence.  
Be stopped the Mouth of purest Eloquence.  
Bade he not lived within a Northern mist,  
Tossed 'twixt the Waves of Pope and Calvenist.  
He might have to his Nation been a fame,  
And eternised Admirable by name.   

Then rest in hope (Dear Saint) and quiet lie,  
Till he return who 'scended up on high.    

A Mournful ELEGY.  
ON Mr. I. K. who Died in KENT in ENGLAND.  

THe Wor'd's a triste, and the life of Man  
A hand in breadth, in Longitude a span.  
Our Pleasures are but Pain; our Joys relent,  
Before the Morning of our days be spent.  
I ve seen a Dunce, preferred before a Wit,  
Base Beggars ride, when Princes walked a foot.  
To swift or strong, by chance, no prize at all:  
But God doth send, what ever doth befall.  
Then why should I repine, my Heart replied,  
The finest Gold is often purified.  
This Object of our present Grief and Woe,  
What I affirm without debate may show;  
Whose Parts and Person, readiness of Wit,  
Did of no Blot, or Blemish base admit.  
Religion's root ne'er withered nor decayed  
In him: till he Life's utmost minute paid.  
Oft Satan snatched; but he could only roar;  
The God of Truth had muzzled him before.   

Then (charitable Reader) writ me down,  
A Christian crossed doth wear an endless Crown.    

On the Memory of a Married Maid.  

WIthin this Coffin here doth lie,  
A Pattern of pure Chastity.  
A Non such-sight (as it is said)  
A Wife, a Widow, and a Maid.  
Whose Modesty did her restrain,  
A Marrie'd-Virgin to remain.  
Who willingly, not by constraint,  
Was pleased to live by Compliment▪  
Her Youth and Beauty still did plead  
Divorcement, from her Maidenhead.  
Yet Chastity did gain the cause:  
The civil beat down nature's Laws.  
I could speak more here to her praise,  
And force beholders all, to gaze.   

But that I think her Ashes cry▪  
Hold Gentle Muse for Modesty.    

On the death of a hopeful young Boy.  

WIthin this little Box doth lie  
Ripe wisdom, yet in Infancy,  
Like Homer's Iliads in a Nut,  
Full four score and ten here are shut  
In single five, a Child, whose years  
Are written down in Characters.   

Then Reader gaze not, but behold  
This young old Child, as Esay told.    

AN EPITAPH On the Brother of Heliogabolus.  

WIthin this Tomb lies one, I can  
Scarce nominate a Brute, or Man  
But yet the veritatem loqui,  
He borrowed partem, ab atroque.  
His Definition was a Stipes,  
Or animal implume bipes.  
He spent his time here in a mist,  
A Papist, yet no Atheist.  
He lived by robries, and oppression;  
Whereof (at Death) he made Confession.  
His fame still cried he liveth ill:  
And now he's dead, against his will.    

REGICIDA Or AN EPITAPH; On the first Death, and second Burial, of the great Traitor, and Usurper; OLIVER CROMWELL, ANAGRAM.  
O Vile, Cruel Worm.  

COme Tribe of Judas, and condole,  
The rotten Ruins, of old Nol.  
That's frighted up, without a Soul.   

Great Britan's Butcher here doth lie,  
Who did up from a Dunghill fly,  
In Treason, to pro notion's sky▪   

Whence, (for Eclipsing Sun, and Moon,  
And aiming at a Royal Crown)  
The King of Kings did hurl him down.   

He was insatiate in desire;  
And all his life time did aspire;  
And now (when dead) he's jumped up higher.   

He cut the Church quite off at knees;  
And set on Fire, both Land and Seas;  
And Fathered all, on God's decrees.   

He was sworn Enemy to good;  
A Cannibal of Babel's brood;  
Did eat Men's Flesh, and suck their blood.   

In life, he plagued us with Protection:  
And now (when dead) makes Insurrection;  
And Threatens the World, with Infection.   

The curse of Kings, of Queens the bane,  
Who did the Universe so slain;  
That Earth hath spewed him up again.   

Then pray Historians mention not  
The kiss of this Iscariot:  
But let his Memory quite rot.   

Then Traitors tremble and give o'er  
To Plot your projects, any more:  
Lest that you split, on treason's shore.   

Although your Stubborn Hearts be stout  
In villainies, yet out of doubt,  
The King of Kings will find you out.    

ON DEATH, Mors ultima linia rerum.  
DEath is life's exi, and the Porch whereby  
All men do enter long Eternity:  
Upon the left the half-gat's open wide;  
On right the Wicket's only laid aside.  
Then stoop down low, when young; & boldly wenter,  
For truckling thou mayst fall, before thou enter.  
By all espoused it is still confessed,  
That the first proffer's (commonly) the best;  
There are no Suitors for thy Soul but one,  
And thou may'st die a Fool, when he's once gone.  
there's no contentment in our Worldly joys;  
They puff to pride, which but the Soul destroys;  
Then wast not time, for thy time is not long;  
Lest Death prevent thy lovely Marriage-Song.  
He's blest who Sings back from Mount-Zion high,  
Death, where's thy Sting? Grave, where's thy Victory?   

A POEM On The STATUE ROYAL, Erected in the Centre of the EXCHANGE of LONDON.  

TEll me no more how Memnon's Statue stood,  
Which (but by hear-say) sounded forth aloud.  
Nor of that Golden, Artificial Head,  
Which prattled Nonsense, by Albertus made.  
Nor of that fluttering Dove that flew amain,  
To welcome Julius; and rerurned again.  
These are but Fopp'ries, here's a Demonstration  
Which to a greater Caesar hath Relation.  
A stately Statue, elivate on high,  
T' immortalize our CHARLES his Memory.  
This, is a Merchant's Mite, which doth but show  
What Faithful Sum this City doth him owe.   

Then Loyal London, keep before thine eye,  
This as the Centre, of thy Gravity.  
That frowning Tempests from the Royal Sky,  
May neither beat, nor break thy Loyalty  
From him, this represents: but still endure  
Like Marble, and like Alabaster pure  
Unspotted: that all Foreigners may see  
This Chirogliphick of Fidelity.   
FINIS.   

THE Description of a LIE AND The Character of a LIAR.  
A LIE is of an ancient Extract, and deduceth its Pedigree from the Old Serpent. It was the first seed of Apostasy, which out of Malice and Envy, the Wicked One did sow in the Garden of Eden, to choke the lovely Flower of Innocence, and blast the Blossoms of the Tree of Life. It is the Root of all Evil, and the Father of Unbelief, the Corruption of Nature, the Overthrow of Grace, the Ruin of the World, and breeder of Enmity 'twixt God and Man. There is no Sin more opposite to the Nature of God, for (Truth being his Essential, Prerogative Royal) he can no more endure a Lie, than Ice can endure heat.  
In the whole Scriptures I read not of one gracious Promise to a Resolute Liar; Yea, it is said, Isa. 63.8. Surely they are my People, Childring that will not Lie. So he was their Saviour. And when in Rev. 21.8. a Climax or Series of Wicked Sinners are reckoned up; Liars are placed in the highest rank and degree, and have a more absolute Sentence than all their followers: For it is said, And ALL LIARS shall have their part in the Lake which burneth, etc. And (as it was the first of Sins) so it is the last that is spoke against: For it is said in the same Chap. Vers. 27. That in no wise any thing that defileth, nor worketh Abomination, or maketh a LIE, shall enter the New Jerusalem.  
The Devil was a Liar from the Beginning, the first of all Sinners, that had his being from God, but his being such of himself. For after his Lying, and saying that which was void of Truth, and casting the aspersion of untrue on God himself, Gen. 3.4. The Lord took from him his Mercy, Glory, and Goodness, and then (as by taking away Light, Darkness cometh) from an Angel of Light, he became a Devil of Darkness.  
Thus being but a Privation, neither Created, Made, nor brought forth, he is termed a God: God of the World of Apostates, and Lord over all the Children of Pride. The Sorceries of the Son of Perdition are termed lying wonders, and the greatest stumbling-block which is cast in the way of Self-conceited, Stiffnecked Unbelievers, is Delusion, to seduce them to believe a Lie, Thess. 2.11.  
An Antidote may be provided against all Sins, but this none can oppose. If the Tongue (as the Apostle James saith) be set on the fire of Hell, sure Lies must be the sparks which fly from thence Mentioned Isa. 50.11. Wherewith the Wicked compass themselves about, and walk in the light of their own kindling.  
A Lie is the Foundation of the Kingdom of Confusion, and the first Brick of the Spiritual Babylon: 'Tis a Cockatrice hatched in a Silogism, and Christianed with the Name of Reason, it is dandled by the Alma mater, and trades under the Vizard of Philosophia. It is the breeder of Strife & the raiser of Sedition, which hath turned Kingdoms up-side-down. It is a cloak to Conspiracies, a vail to Villainies, and a cover to all Vicious Designs.  
The Venom of the Viper's-Gall,  
The sugared Serpent's Breath;  
The first of Sins made Adam fall,  
And slaved us all to Death.   

THE Character of a FORTUNE-TELLER.  
A Fortune-Teller is the most Impudent of all Cheats, his Head is a Lottary, and every touch of his Tongue a throw of the Dice, his Predictions are but Possibilities, and bear no more certainty than the rule of future Contingency is able to afford. All Impostors may pretend to some cloak or vizard of Learning, to cover their Knavery; but he (against Knowledge) putteth on a Brazen-Face, to batter and beat down all Bulwarks of Reason, and Principles of Learning, Art and Science: And setteth up the foolish fancy of his own ridiculous invention.  
I have observed that (for the most part) the Professors of this Art are great Dunces, pretending themselves Magis, and Students in Astrology: though they never knew the difference 'twixt Vrsa, and Cy●osura: Nor could distinguish twixt the Pole Arctic, and the Zenith. Yet all their proceed, and resolutions are cut out according to the Rules of this Art; Which indeed (as they say) is so profound, that none but themselves can sound. Yea & to give a rational account, how o● by what means they attain the knowledge of such Prophetical Mysteries, or rather fallacious Foppr●ys, exceedeth the eloquence of their expression.  
If a Past onate, and impatient Lover come to one of them, desiring to be resolved of his amorous success; he will (for a Crown) pimp the Idol to an adoration, and (by a strong apprehension) tickle his fancy to an imaginary Marriage: or else tell him he will miss her, and obtain the favour of a more deserving, beautiful, rich, and better qualified Lady, but be in danger to be oppressed with the sign of Capr●corn.  
I have observed that (in all times) since the Old Serpent, under co●our of good Counsel, cheated our great Grandmother, he hath still guilded his pernicious projects, and destructive designs, with the pretence of Piety. He did quote Scripture to the Son of God himself; (and to slain the Gospel, and bring forth Unbelief) cry out that Paul and Barnabas were the Servants of the most High God. He covereth all his Sorceries, Spells, Breefs, Charms, Inchamments, and Diabolical drifts, with some holy Word, or outside form and Superficies. But Religio velum est quod regit omne seelus. Saul became a Proverb, when he turned Prophet. The Devil is most dangerous when he metamorphose●h himself into an Angel of Light. These Hypocritical Augurs, Cunning Men, or Fortune-Tellers, who sophisticate Knowledge, and cheat the World with their Sorceries (for all they pretend to a special gift of Divination, and therefore will not hid their Talen in a Napkin) are but Deceivers of the Tribe of Simon M●●us, sprung from the seed of the Old Serpent, whose Light, and Learning are but Egyptian Darkness, and Ignorance, which will vanish in the day of Visitation, and perish in the gainsaying of Core.  
GOD hath told us that the Touchstone of a true Prophet is the Truth of his Prophecy, and the observation whether his words come infallibly to pass. Now whether or not these Men tell any think of Truth in finding out Theives; recovering stolen. or lost Goods; in soretelling good, or bad success in any Voyage, Journey, or Undertaking, let their cheated Clients declare, and whether their surest Divination be but a mere Conjecture, hit, or miss; right or wrong. There is a sad Woe denounced against those who make the arm of flesh their trust, and run down to Egypt for help, who consult the Wr●●ch of Endor, and take advice of the God of Eckron, as if there were no God in Israel.   

DRUNKENNESS.  
DRunkenness is the Primum Mobile of all Vice, and the V●stibulum of all Sins, the Mother of Mischief, the Revealer of S●ercis, the Seducer of Sense, and the Betrayer of Reason. 'Tis the Gate of Hell, and the way that leadeth to Everlasting Destruction, 'tis the Doo● of Confusion, the Porch of Impiety, and the Turn-key of the Prison of Death. It was reputed (among the Romans) the most brutish of all Vices, as being a Sin against Nature, Reason and Delight, the Ruin of the Bo●y, the Destruction of the Soul, and the overthrow of the whole Man, when the second World was without a Curse, it brought on Ham's Posterity, the Cloud of Apostasy, and began a new Tribe to the Old Serpent. The Sca●let Whore of Babylon (to ma●e her the more abomniable) is represented to the World with a Cup in her hand; and it is said, She was drunk with the Blood of the Saints. the Devil never gains more ground upon the Childring of God, than when he takes them at the disadvantage of being overtaken with this Evil; and bound with the setters of Swinish Pleasures. It rendereth●s Man uncapable to handle the Spiritual Armour; & it is so hateful in itself, that God hath not so evidently prohibited it in the Decalogue, as he hath other sins, it being so intrinsically Evil, and obvious to the Eye of mere nature, that he that runs may read its shame, loss, rum and disgrace, etc.   

The Character of Tipsy Tome, The Metropolitan of Drinkers.  
THis Drunkard is the Statue of a Man, surrevereneed over with Clay and Kennel dirt; he's a Deast-like Man, or a M●dium 'twixt Man and Beast: all the terms of Logic are not enough to prove him a Rational Creature, ta●e him in the Complex, he's but Rationabile, or a Man in Actu signato, made capable of Reason, by a Week's sleeping; had he lived in the days of C●ligula Caesar, he had been a Court-favourite, and chosen precedent of the Ba●chanalians: had he been Herdsman to the Gadarens, the Devil might have claimed him for a Hogg, and choked him in the Sea among the rest of the Swine: put a white rod in his hand, and set him up London-streets, and he would pass for the Monopoly of T. T●. Madam Luxuria in her Cell of Darkness, never hatched a Frat of greater Bestiality. Coming home lately from the Tavern, & misbehaving himself (at the House of Office) by the way, he was in danger of being eaten up by his related Hogs, who claimed right to his bespattered Garments. He's a Demonstration of Penetration, for there goes more in at his Mouth, than his whole Belly is in bigness. At Twelve a Clock at Night, he would serve for a Waterwork, sending more Wine from the Spigot of his Mouth. then Breath from the bellows of his Nose. He's a Hogg in folio, but a Man in decimo sexto. were it not for the floodgate of his Mouth, his Pulmones and Wind-pipes might be put to a Nonplus, and the whole Microcosm be in danger of Drowning, had he Belly to his thirst, and appetite, he could dry the great Tunn of H●dlebirdoe at a draught. At Night he weareth the painted Vizard of the Scarles Whore, but next morning he's a Man Metamorphosed, who last night screwed his Nose out of joint. View him at a distance, and per conceptum primum, you would take him for a Man, but draw a little nigher, and survey him per conceptum secundum, you'll sinned him a Monster of Beasts, or a Man Brutist'd, whose reason is turned to sense, and sense to sensuality: he's a King allcompleat at night, and can dance without Music, but next Morning he can hardly stand. Make him Celestial he would pass for Vrsa oppressed with the Dogg-slar, Terrestrial for a Hedge-Hogg: Place him in the Sea, and he would pass for a Torpedo. whose Breath is enough to infect the Anglet, he's an excellent Orator, sending forth sentences of strong sense, for all the words of his Mouth are made of Onk,  
Of all the senses he's most subject to that of smelling, 
Quid rides? mu●nto nomine de te subul●● narratur.  for you may nose him in the dark, when you can neither hear nor see him.  
In fine he's an equivocal Creature, whose understanding is eclipsed by his sense, or rather Luxury; from whom and such, let all●sober and moderate Persons Pray,  
Good Lord deliver us.   

The Character of a CUCKOLD, By D: N: B.  
A Cuckold is an abortive brat of Wontonness, hatched betwixt a Man and a Woman; he is an instantanions Creature, or an Animal immediate i●dividuotum a part r●i: No sooner begotten than brought so th', and in a moment can both walk, speak, and stare like a Buck; he is never produced but in an Edlipse, by the interposition of some gross Body.  
A Cock's-Combe and a Cuckold, are (for the most part Concomitants, and termina convertibiles; and it is very rare to see one under sixteen years of age, but he who is sixty, and married to a young Wife, and no Cuckold, may pass for a Snow. A Cuckold can be no Bastard, for he is never begotten without the bond of Matrimony, he is of an antient extract, and may pass for a Gentleman, because of Antiquity. The chief Meconas, P●tron, and Metrapolitan of this Tribe, is entitled, Cuckold-Major; and the in●eriour Brethren but Man cornutified. Seldom (or never) is a Cuckold made of a Maiden head. for the time and occasion are short and ●are, Some natural Philesophers who pry in the secrets of their Science, affirm that this Animal weaveth Horns; but like Lives Celestial they are only Ima●inor●, used to express the real Creature himself; and like an Ear-mark difference him hom others of the Herd of Wise-Oppr●ssed H●b●nd.  
It is very remarkable here that some curious Inquisitors affirm, that this production may be more properly termed a M●●amerph●sis; by Addition, as by Substraction, a Bull is turned to an Ox, or a transmutation of a poor man to a rich. And many are of opinion, that some virtuous and grave Ladies, subtly use their best Wits and endeavours about this Generatior, rather to shun Poverty, than licentiate Lechery, and for this cause are the more excusable. I am not so rigid and void of Charity, as to affirm a Cuckold to be no Christian; for than I should be put to a p●●●● to find ten married Righteous in this City, whom I could give up upon Oath.  
Then Gentlemen, contented Cuckolds all,  
Since your Disease is Epidemical;  
Conceal and wear your Horns, but in your pocket,  
If they appear once on your heads, you're mocked:  
Your Sen's a Eastard, and your Wife's a Whore,  
But best of all, a Cuckolds seldom poor.   
FINIS.   

1. The Complete Compting-House, the Second Edition, it small Octavo, By John Vernen.  
2. Poems on several Occasions: being a Paraphrase upon the Psalms of David, set to new Tunes for private Devotions, By George Sandys: and a Thorough-base for Voice, or Instrument, by Henry Laws, Gentleman of His Majesty's Chapel Royal: As also a Paraphrase upon the Divine Poems of the Old and New Testaments, viz. the whole Books of Jobe, Ecclisiastes, Solomon's Song, and the Lamentations, etc. Likewise a Paraphrase upon the Songs of the Old and New Pe●●aments, by the abovesaid George Sandys, being a Bond Book, in large Octa●o.  
3. Ovid's Metamorwhes●s, put into smooth English Verse, being a Bond Book, in large twelves.  
4. Debtor and Creditor made easy, or Instructions for the attaining the right use of Accounts, after the best Methods used by Merchant's, by St●ben Mountage. With the addition of two small Books. Bound in Quarto.  
All four to be sold by Benjamin Dilling sly, at the Printing-Press in Co●nhill, under the South-West-P●azza of the Royal E●xbinge.