THE LOYAL MEDAL VINDICATED. A POEM.  Crescit sub pondere virtus. 
LONDON: Printed for R. Janeway in Queens-Head Alley, 1682.   

TO THE Disloyal Tories.  
TO all I mean, except the Author of the Medal, for he being a Tory of two Editions, it seems impossible to appropriate his Genius more to King Charles than Oliver cronwell. And if Noll was so kind( though a saucy Tenant) to leave him as a Heriot of the Muses unto whomsoever should possess Whitehall, let none admire that he that could so deify an Usurper, does afterwards endeavour to expiate that Crime, by Torifying the Government of a Legal Monarch. And possibly he has been so happy, as to have been in both extremes rewarded accordingly.  
It was a hard strain for Hugh Peters to have his Head pol'd on London-Bridge, and not a certain Poet bear him company, since they were both inspired under the same Olivarian Phoebus. And if the first did sanctify a Monster in his Pulpit Prose; the latter paid his Devotion as fully on the same Subject in rhyme. Should he construe this severe, he may take it as a small Return for the Reproachful Method by which he would expose the remembrance of this Incomparable Earl to a Spike on the top of the Tower. Or if any of his Tantivy Friends think this Retortion has not Veneration enough for a Person that has employed his Talent in their behalf( though he has that way most impudently traduced so many deserving Persons, by framing them into Actions, Things, and Methods below the Credit of any tolerable Invention) they may advance his Reputation as they please, or according to some practical Zeal, permit that he Rail himself into Office Ecclesiastical or Civil. And doubtless he is such an Impropriator in point of Opinion, that he may be annexed to Church and State by any indifferent Emolument.  
He that would duly inspect the Soul of an Artificial Tory, must take him for one that is very prove to vitiate the Beauty of Religion, where he apprehends his Insinuations may pass with most facility.  
Indeed he's but a Pander in Masquerade to the swarthy Roman Strumpet, nor can he more advantage Protestant Profession, than a comely Form can receive a reputation from the correspondency of a Pimp.  
If a small dridging from Mrs. Cellier's Meal-tub can serve to whiten men sufficiently for this service, no judicious man will envy such a motley Interest, though they are as sharp set in devising a Protestant-Plot, as ever a Scotchman was to swallow Oat-Cake.  
Where they are most inveterate, to be sure it is against men of discretion, and such as will not allow the most formidable nonsense an easy passage to the sense of the People, whereby such as they please might be rendered Capital Delinquents. And this may be a main Reason why this Poetaster is so hot with Men of the Ignoramus Party.  
But he may remember for his own sake, that such a judicious dozen would never miss finding of an Office for a Fool, as I suppose in their Apprehensions they may Judge somebody— but I spare him, until there may issue a Writ to that purpose, in behalf of Pernassus.  
In the mean time he may take what security he can from the predominant Face of ridiculous Malice, that does not a little intoxicate men of his Complexion. If there were any thing on the account of the House of Commons tendered as an Association against Popery, surely this were a weak foundation to bear the weight of a Conspiracy to be erected against his Majesty, or to assert on its bulk the big and odious Treasons imputed to the Earl of Shaftsbury, because such a proceeding was in order to its ultimate Confirmation from Royal Authority, together with the Manner of its overpowering in the Intervals of Parliament, as whosoever shall impartially red the pretended Paper, and how it refers, may plainly apprehended.  
But tho this Aerial Monster, called a Protestant Plot, is puffed towards the Alps, in spite of all our Northern Banditi, that would even Out-law the Religion of their Nation, provided they might assure its belief: And this too by Insinuations sufficiently prepared for the gust of the Nation as occasion offers: And all to perplex or tacitly guide men to conceive that there was no real Popish Conspiracy, or so abate its credit, that it may drown in the Ocean of a pretended Protestant Contrivance. Yet certainly it will be very difficult by any such Artifice to impose the wrong side of their Perspective on any unbiased apprehension. And to assure them farther, they may take it for an undoubted Maxim, That supposing all a Fiction that has been either done, or attested to be intended Popish Contrivements, nay more, were there neither Priest, jesuit, nor Papist in the Nation, yet so long as there is a conception of a Papist in the Succession, this alone shall enough confirm the most judicious, that there has been extant a superlative Romish Design, it being highly improbable that an Opinion so prejudicial to the Interest of the Nation, could be in such a person by any other Measures produced.  
I have no more to say to him, and his Tory Friends, by way of Argument; but rather greet him in Conclusion as Poetically as he can pretend to deserve.  
He tells us in his latter end of his Preface of a Divine that undertook to confute his Poem, Absalom and Achitophel, from Texts of Scripture, when he might have done it with far less Labour, or as a Doctor of Oxford said, in opposition to somewhat a greater Clerk, Bellarmine thou liest. And I suppose this Author must have granted the epithet of Saucy Jack that way, since none are bolder liars, and no less egregious Thieves than such as plunder mens Fames, and next expose such Thefts, by the brokage of an Impression, unto public Sale.  
But the Good Man it seems mistook his Adversary, who tells us in his Poem his apprehensions of Priest-craft, in opposition to polygamy of Love; which was no small assurance that the best Wit of Scripture would be lost on such a persuasion. And yet he is not thought so much an Enemy to some Sacerdotal Craft, now going, as not to commit it to rhyme, provided he be paid for the music.  
If to credit his Compositions, he did avow that he has been opposed with little Wit formerly, to be sure he will pretend to the same Confidence in respect of this Answer, and if he does, he may the more safely provoke a Reply, or rub his Forehead, and gravely contemn it. It being alike Concern to the Author, whatsoever he shall determine either as to Ingenuity or Conscience.   

THE LOYAL MEDAL VINDICATED.  

IF nothing can the Worth of Men excuse,  
When meanly blasted by a skulking Muse,  
If what's against Humanity and Sense,  
Finds from the World an horrid Complaisance,  
If one must flout another's mould or Face,  
Because Discretion there has ancient place;  
Then let thy Hireling-Verse such Fictions raise,  
As long may fatten thy desertless Praise.  
But may Heaven stay thy much Licentious Pen,  
When to spite Faces thou shalt writ again,  
Lest thou thy Soveraign's Image next shouldst slain,  
Since Looks and Men thou darest traduce for Gain.  
And all t'allow thy Forehead so much Brass,  
As stiles thee there a stigmatized Ass:  
Whilst even the Image that's abused by thee  
Exalts the Worth of its Epitome:  
And in the Life, to wonder, does contain  
A Soul enfeebled by its Bodies pain,  
As if in him alone Heaven had designed  
Most to exempt Infirmity of Mind.  
Some that to Hero's past gave mighty Frame,  
To wondrous Bulks allowed their human Frame;  
But had thy much in little been their toil,  
Thy giant Soul had more enlarged their Style:  
So hard a Task for Nature to convey,  
She can but Limb thy Spirit in her day.  
The Artist that so strictly did comply  
To give thy Wise remembrance to our Eye,  
Did only miss what Figure cannot show  
In that Compendium representeth you:  
As 'tis to Skill stupendious to impart  
What the Soul's Life in you requires from Art.  
Unkinder Men that spitefully admit  
The horrid Untruths of mistaken Wit:  
Judging they add unto their Vulgar Cheat,  
If they can Merit by low Frauds abate:  
In Fear the World should throw off their disguise,  
And see with Reasons and Compassions Eyes,  
A just discernment from the many due,  
Tho' but the Talent of the Wiser few:  
Whilst with a Brave Assurance you dispense  
To leave to scorn such hated Impudence.  
What strength of Verse sufficient is to raise  
The steady Greatness that assures thy Praise!  
Law it secured in spite of strong Design,  
Or Fierce Assaults a triple League could join;  
Heaven did deter thou shouldst be ruined so,  
And shew'd thy value in thy safety too.  
What then remains for Measures to set forth,  
More than to clear the outside of thy Worth!  
Which though a Pen endeavoured to defile  
Thy Image, so far we'll presume to file.  
The man of Meteor that did much combine  
To help the feigning of a bad Design,  
And in his Mock Achitophel did plod  
To gain some Tories gracious Smile or Nod;  
Which might have been, if with the Jury toys,  
He'ad feigned goliath then at Trap with Boyes.  
As 'tis an odd Ridicule that complies  
To grant what is Incongruous in Lies.  
How senseless Wicked are the framed Intrigues,  
Thy Foolish rhyme Associates into Leagues:  
Yet even this Earl thou makest thy Trumpets voice,  
To sound Sedition by thy Windy Choice.  
And by this Call, Great Monmouth darest awake  
To own the Property which thou dost make:  
Then bring'st them into deep Consult and Tale,  
How this or that vain Fiction may avail.  
How that Duke may a spruce Knight-Errand show,  
And vent chimeras may the King undo.  
Then Cajole Crowds by some such specious Knack,  
As thy Prince Noll was made a public Quack:  
Then clap a Crown upon his Head by chance,  
Against the Power of Successor, or France.  
Then Sheriffs, Juries, and the Prudent City,  
designed, as thou call'st, Silly Traytors, Witty.  
And all this to invite Men to deplore  
The very Mouth-Guns which thou mad'st to roar:  
Which may assure thee that no Partial Jest,  
conveyed thy open Scandals to our Test.  
Tho' much th' inveiglest dangers to the State,  
Tho' Wit thou filchest, and much didst translate;  
Tho' many Traytors thou of men dost make,  
That love Religion for Religion's sake;  
Their Laws and Nation, as best Subjects should,  
Are not impressed by Arbitrary mould:  
And must from all this just Confession bring,  
That none need say from These God save the King.  
Mayn't Time yield largely this to be confessed  
By some Abhorrencies, not yet addressed:  
Such as may purge the artificial Dirt  
That Impious Pens and Counsels daily flirt:  
Or, to uphold a State-trick, dare Conspire  
How men may perjure often by their Hire:  
And next against Humanity comply,  
That famed and Person shall together die.  
If such were Shaftsburies deliberate Foes,  
As much in likeness their bad story goes;  
Well might the People shouts and gladness join,  
To see him cleared, in spite of vile Design:  
They saw the Harpies did upon him wait,  
Their Talons stained in Blood of modern date:  
And those perhaps could Presidents produce  
Of men that guiltless dyed for public use.  
As doubtless 'tis a Knack of vast pretence,  
That cheats the common with a private sense:  
Or from a specious practise carried on,  
Colours undoing for fear of being undone:  
Which anxious thought so rest less renders Time,  
Contrives to fall with such could tax the Crime.  
Whence obliqne Statists seem, by maxim taught,  
To lop the Head that best discerns their fault.  
If Laws Tribunal need no force from Art,  
Or short Rob'd-Bravo that o're-bawls his part;  
Much wonder 'tis how some deform its Look  
With so much waxed Nose unlimb'd, from Book,  
Which handled quaintly by some Gowned Peer,  
Most Puppet-like, 'tis wriggled here and there.  
Though sure Mans Reason never understood  
How dubious Cavils aim at public Good;  
Or that Law should so odd a Kernel close,  
As Jeffery's Noise, instead of Nutcrack shows;  
Or Sanders, that for Charters bids so fair,  
'Gainst next Kings time, or Justice sits in Eyre.  
Great Tully, who, 'tis said, had Brain as big  
As any Tory Advocate, or Whigg,  
confessed he did stupendiously behold,  
How deeds of Augurs were to Augurs  told;  
And not the Men ingenuously admit,  
That laughter well might greet their doubtful Wit.  
So of the short-Robe most can truly say,  
Their many puzzels cast much Sense away:  
Tho' we'll not farther here pursue this Text,  
Lest they should mock themselves when they pled next.  
And tho wise Shaftsbury has found a Loop  
( Which some call Ignoramus by a Trope)  
To pass the Files of this destroying rob,  
Tho broad's their Figure in our English Globe.  
Yet all this done, and nothing brought to pass,  
Worth any Clerks Record, or studied Ass.  
Tantivy Levites still their heats apply,  
Admiring in Church-Sense he did not die.  
Since they observed he never would Intrigue  
How to maintain at home a Roman League;  
Or yield that motley Faith should so prevail,  
As Superstition would design its veil.  
From whence enraged, they Pulpit-Cushions beat,  
( The small Earl sure had died with Blows less Great)  
And in their Pious choler much enlarge,  
How Holy in their Sense appeared his Charge.  
Or ought to be believed, 'twixt fit and just,  
If long and short-Roab'd Men have Souls of Trust.  
Yet such when warped will always so decide,  
As Faith and Law may with them lean aside.  
Who'd not the Conduct of this Earl call great,  
That could Designs Intrigu'd like these defeat:  
And with a Conscience too, so far unstained,  
The Verdict lessened what within he gained?  
Well might he wish his Breast Transparent were,  
That his worst Foes might see his Figure there:  
And by Inspection forced to yield the lye,  
And foolish Guilt of their Conspiracy:  
For never Man to ruin was designed,  
Where Malice with less Circumspection joined.  
The Fiend that reached to God's forbdden three,  
And gave Man thence the Sweets of Misery;  
Added allurements to his shaken Will  
Of being more wisely Great, in being Ill.  
Which like the Guilt, that most infects his Race,  
Found in his clearer Sense an erring Place.  
But had the Devil with his Assault then joined  
Some Imps Gross Oath, to aid what he designed,  
Our first great Parent might have scaped his fall,  
Or had this Peer been him, he'ad saved us all.  
As 'tis a God-like Confidence that can  
Assure, by Wisdom, Guiltless famed to Man.   

Who'd of this Poetaster then complain,  
Or that Curs bark at sublime things in vain:  
Tho none e're held, when such the Moon did Bay,  
That she less steady seemed in her Bright Way.  
And next let them advance their Paper Kite,  
Th Association, none know who did writ.  
Let them Abhorrence form, then spread the Cry  
To such think noise of Treason cannot lie:  
For as( 'tis Jok'd) the Holy Ghost was sent  
By most in Sacred Cloak-bag unto Trent:  
So famed assures that Tories near at hand  
Convey this Sacred Trifle through the Land.  
And this quick Jobb, forced by such Plodders on,  
Must call to count, forgiven Forty One.  
By which endeavour of such heatful Men,  
Affairs are postur'd now as some were then:  
Yet to the present no more like can be,  
Than things that by their Essence disagree.  
Which well computed duly does declare  
How false the framed account of others are.  
Though English Blood be pronely apt to Boil  
From the high Ferment of its Nations Soil:  
Fierce in extremes, if heightened to be so,  
And when it cools it gently cooleth too.  
No People strictlier their Allegiance prove,  
When guided by the Helm of Laws and Love.  
And tho they've often Revolutions had  
Of Ancient Cast, and Modern vilely bad;  
Which did to such perplexities relate,  
They seemed th' extremes and intricace of Fate;  
Yet none had e're more difficult to compose,  
Than what is granted now their Popish pose;  
And 'tis to best State-Criticks yet unknown,  
How Rome can add a Jewel to our Crown;  
Or how the Soul, when guided in that Path,  
Can be enthroned Defender of our Faith.  
For as the Souls of Princes needs must be  
Best Props of Subjects Faith and Liberty;  
So when all these their different Measures show.  
Who'd not deplore the Fate may thence ensue?  
Our Royal Henry who did first defy  
The Triple Guilt of Rome's sovereignty,  
And in that mighty Act appeared more great  
Than all before possessed his Glorious Seat:  
As what can Heaven so great to King dispense,  
As when his Title's raised to Faith's Defence?  
How might his Ashes blushy, if of his mind  
Cinders with Princely Dust were left behind:  
Since Rome, despised by him, attempts to raise  
The scattered ruins of her impious days?  
And tho no Subjects Deeds such Greatness claim  
As more peculiar is to Kingly famed,  
Yet next to that we may Encomiums give  
To such as most our now Defenders live.  
With whom thy Figure Shaftsbury we'll own,  
Clear in thy Soul and thy Religion shown,  
Remembrance far more lasting is thy due,  
Than what thy Image seen in Steel can show,  
Time may in course decay that by its powers,  
With what dependence has on Wings of Hours.  
Yet when it so does thy Oblivion see,  
famed must preserve more lasting Steel for thee.  
Usurped Powers that did our Nation guide,  
Thou didst for God's sake and our King's divide,  
And by thy Wit gain'dst him the stronger side.  
Wit, that briareus Hands dost best dispose,  
( Or Crowds or Armies representing those)  
Thy sense so practically did convey,  
As Thou for Monk, some tell, didst get the day:  
Nor does it render his achievement less,  
If thought, with Thine, his Counsels had success.  
Well might distractions yieldingly comply  
To such a Mars, and thou his Mercury:  
'Twere endless to recount what strange Intrigues  
Of Armies heightened by Clandestine Leagues,  
Thy Wisdom pierced, with such advantage too,  
As thy Sense levelled all they thought to do.  
Nay from their stiffer Conscience didst obtain  
An easy yielding to our Soveraign's Reign.  
This might commend thy Figure by Decree,  
To live with Kings and English Memory:  
But Modern Tales so Artfully are made,  
That ancient Merit first aside is laid.  
Tho Souls of Princes most conspicuous shine,  
That longest Grace to past deserts assign:  
And make it to the World serenely known,  
They are too great to be ingrateful shown.  
If few their Royal Masters this advice,  
'Tis because they are thankless or unwise:  
Or judge it fits some Princes Humour best,  
When Merit from their Perspective is least.  
And in this narrow Conduct next conspire  
How by depressing others to rise higher.  
No pitch of Glory is from Malice free,  
Till Man above keeps Angels company.  
Some that Similitudes to Courts will strain  
( Or Superstitions that way best maintain)  
Sweeten their Earthly Figures so to men,  
As if their Paradise did bloom again:  
Or that the Pageant Glory of their Sphere  
Could guild the Mischiefs sometimes growing there.  
And 'tis perhaps their sense, because they prise  
The Beams  shed there by Womens Charming Eyes;  
And that they don't perceive the treacherous Snake,  
With all the Glides and Changes it does make:  
Or else 'tis Paradise, they mean, reversed;  
Where Innocence may fall, or be aspersed,  
And our first Father's Glory so excel,  
As that a lapse ensues for doing well.  
Great Essex thus, and Noble Sunderland,  
After beholded the Serpents Tongue and Hand,  
And tempting Fruit of Rome's forbidden three  
declined, because their Tastes did disagree.  
These that from such Great Fathers did descend,  
That lived so Loyal, and so brave did end:  
Such that to aid their sovereign did bestow  
All that their Blood and Worldly help could do.  
And what continues Glory to their Name,  
An Issue left, as live all to their famed:  
Yet 'twixt them and their Lineage seems to be  
Not less Fame's Riddle than Diversity.  
For what to Men more various wonder brings,  
Than when one Duty cannot serve two Kings.  
And this approves the Case of these Great Peers,  
Whose Faith and Virtue no man justly fears:  
True Greatness then declines to join its part,  
Where Conscience must too tamely guide the Heart.  
Then Essex, let it add to thy Renown,  
Thou dist thy Interest less than Duty own.  
No humorous discontent thy Soul inclined  
To leave the Court, but greatness of thy Mind.  
And what, like thee conspicuous, few have done,  
Left unto others hopes the rising Sun:  
With such their Faith could swerve, and next agree  
Their Conduct to its Excentricitie:  
Great Capel's Spirit sure had done the same,  
Had he lived now, to add unto his famed.  
Thus many Nobles, Shaftsbury, comply  
To aid thy firmest strength and Constancy:  
They saw how clear thy Souls bright Steel must last,  
After refined by such endurance past.  
Had Hercules so famed Assistance knew  
His Great achievements had more equalled you.  
Designs of Foes could compass his Great fall,  
Thou hadst more numerous, yet withstoodst them all.  
Nor canst thou fall by any stress of Fate,  
But vaster ruins thence must ground their date.  
London, that to a Second Troy aspired,  
Tho Foes and Flames had first her end conspired;  
Must on its firmest Glories doubtful stand,  
If lost( in thee) her wisest helping Hand.  
And doubtless ancient Ilium might have stood  
Longer from such a Force than Hector's Blood.  
No stroke of Fortune bring thy Genius lower,  
Or Weights so heavy that depress its power,  
What could Heaven add to strength of Prudence more  
Yet Fortune so far vanquished is by thee,  
That none thy Wisdom do successless see:  
Or such a Labyrinth that wants a Clew,  
Whilst still the Threed's so fitly spun by you:  
When future Time Invention strives to give,  
By which your Memory may longest live,  
famed must be posed, unless you shall admit  
To leave your Image written by your Wit.  
Yet still by you Memoirs are so designed,  
Your Medal does oblige, in which we find  
The outward Graces of so firm a Mind.  
Tho in this Gift best Protestants allow,  
They're tempted even to Superstition too:  
As hard 'tis such a Patriot to admire,  
And not, than Common man, to grant him higher.   
FINIS.