THE Second, and Third Advice TO A PAINTER, For Drawing the HISTORY Of our NAVAL Actions; The Two last Years, 1665. And 1666. In Answer to Mr. Waller.  

— Pictoribus atque Poetis,  
Quidlibet Audendi semper fuit oequa potestas.   

Humano Capiti cervicem pictor equinam;  
jangere si velit—   Horat. de Art Poet. 
A. Breda, 1667.   

THE Second Advice TO A PAINTER, FOR Drawing the History of our NAVAL Business; In Answer to Mr. Waller.  
NAy Painter, if thou dar'st design that Fight,  
Which Waller only Courage had to Write;  
If thy bold hand, can without shaking Draw,  
What even the Actors trembled when they saw;  
Enough to make thy Colours change like theirs,  
And all thy pencils bristle, like their Hairs.  
First in fit distance of the prospect Vain,  
Paint Allen Tilting at the Coast of Spain;  
Heroic Act, and never heard till now,  
Steming of Her'cles Pillars with his Prow,  
And how two Ships he left, the Hills to waft,  
And with new Sea-marks, Dover and Calais graft.  
Next let the flaming London come in view.  
Like Nero's Rome, burnt to Rebuild it new:  
What lesser Sacrifice than this was meet,  
To offer for the fafty of the Fleet?  
Blow one Ship up, another thence doth grow;  
See what free Cities; and wise Courts can do.  
So some old Merchant to ensure his Name,  
Marries a fresh, and Courtiers share the Dame:  
So what soe'er is broke, the Servants paid,  
And Glasses are more durable than Plate.  
No Mayor till now, so rich a Pageant feigned;  
Nor one Barge all the Companies contained.  
Then Painter draw Coerulean Coventry,  
Keeper, or rather Chancellor of the Sea;  
Of whom the Captain buys his leave to die,  
And Barters it for Wounds, or Infamy:  
And more exactly to express his hue,  
Use nothing but ultra marinish blue;  
To pay his Fees the Silver Trumpet spend,  
And Boatswains whistels; For his Place depends;  
Pilots in vain repeat the Compass o'er,  
Until of him, they learn that one Point more;  
The constant Magnet to the Pole doth hold,  
Steel to the Magnet, Coventry to Gold:  
Muscovy sells us Hemp, and Pitch and Tar?  
Iron and Copper Sweden; Munster War;  
Ashley Prizes, Warwick Customs, Cartret Pay?  
But Coventry doth sell his Fleet away.  
Now let our Navy stretch its Canvas wings,  
Swollen like his purse, with tackling like its strings,  
By slow degrees of the increasing Gale,  
First under Sale, and after under Sail:  
Then in kind visit unto Opdams' Gout,  
Hedge the Dutch in, only to let them out:  
So Huntsmen fair, unto the Hares give law,  
First find them, and then civilly withdraw,  
That the blind Archer, when they take the Seas,  
The Hamborough Convey may betray at ease.  
So that the Fish may more securely bite,  
The Fisher baits the River over night.  
But Painter now prepare t'enrich thy Piece,  
pencils of Ermines, Oil of Ambergris:  
See where the Duchess with triumphant tail  
Of numerous Coaches. Harwich doth assayl;  
So the Land-Crabs, at Natures kindly call  
Down to engender, at the Sea do crawl;  
See then the Admiral with Navy whole,  
To Harwich through the Ocean Caraloe:  
So Swallows buried in the Sea, at Spring,  
Return to Land, with Summer in their wing.  
One thrifty Ferry-boat of Mother-Pearl  
Sufficed of old, the Citherian Girl:  
Yet Navies are but propperties, when here  
A small Sea-mask, built to court you Dear.  
Three Goddesses in one. Pallas for Art,  
Venus for Sport, and Juno in your heart.  
Oh Duchess! if thy Nuptial Pomp were mean,  
It's paid with interest, in this Naval Scene:  
Never did Roman Mark within the Nile,  
So feast the fair Egyptian Crocodile;  
Nor the Venetian Duke with such a State,  
The Adriatic Marry at that Rate.  
Now Painter spare thy weaker Art, forbear  
To draw her parting passions, and each tear,  
For love alas, hath but a short delight,  
The Winds, the Dutch, the King, all calls to fight;  
She therefore the Duke's person recommends  
To Brunker, Pen and Coventry, as friends;  
Pen, much more to Brunker, most to Coventry.  
For they (she knew) were more 'fraid than be.  
Of flying Fishes, one had sav'd the Finn,  
And hoped with that, he through the Air might spin:  
The other thought he might avoid his Knell,  
In the Invention of the Diving Bell:  
The third had tried it, and afirmed, a Cable  
Coiled round about men, was Impenetrable:  
But these the Duke rejected; only chose  
To keep far off, and others Interpose.  
Rupert that knew not fear, but health did want,  
Kept state suspended in his Chair volant,  
All save his head shut in the wooden Case,  
He showed but like a broken weatherglass;  
But armed in a whole Lion Cap-a-chin,  
Did represent a Hercules within;  
Dear, shall the Dutch his twinging Anguish know,  
And feel what Valour (whet with pain) can do:  
Cursed in the mean time be that traitorous jael,  
That through his Princely temples drove the nail.  
Rupert resolved to fight it like a Lion,  
But Sandwich hoped to fight it like Aryon:  
He to prolong his life in the dispute,  
(And Charm the Holland Pirates) tuned his Lute,  
Till some judicious Dolphin might approach,  
And land him safe and sound as any Roach;  
Hence by the Gazetteir he was mistook,  
As unconcerned, as if at Hinchinbrooke.  
Now Painter reassume thy pencils care,  
It has but Skirmisht yet, Now Fight prepare  
And Battle draw, more terrible to show,  
Then the last judgement was of Angelo:  
First let our Navy scour through silver froth,  
The Ocean's burden, and the Kingdoms both;  
Whose every bulk doth represent its birth  
From Hide, and Paston, burdens of the earth!  
Hide, whose transcendent Paunch so swells of late.  
That he the Rupture seems of Law and State.  
Paston, whose belly devours more Millions  
Then Indian Carracks, and contains more Tuns.  
Let shoals of Porpoises on every side  
Wonder in swimming, by the Oaks out-vide  
And the Sea-fowls (at gaze) behold a thing  
So vast, more strong and swift than they of wing:  
Both which presaging gorge, yet keep in sight,  
And follow for the Relics of the Fight.  
Then let the Dutch with well disembling fear,  
Or bold despair, more than we wish, draw near;  
At which our Gallants, to the Sea but tender,  
And more to fight, Their queasy stomaches render,  
With breasts so panting, that at every stroke  
You might have felt their hearts beat through the Oak;  
Whilst one concerned most in the interval  
Of straining Choler, thus did cast his Gall;  
Noah be damned, and all his Race accursed,  
Who in Sea-brine did pickle Timber first;  
Who, though be planted Vines, he Pines cut down  
He taught us how to drink, and how to drown:  
He first built Ships, and in the Woodden-Wall,  
Saving but Eight, e'er since endangers All.  
And thou Dutch Necromantic Friar, Damned,  
And in thine own first Morter-piece be rammed,  
Who first inventedst Cannon in thy Cell,  
Nitre from Earth, and Brimstone fetched from Hell.  
But Damned, and treble Damned be Clarendine,  
(Our Seventh Edward) with his House and Line;  
Who, to devert the danger of the War  
With Bristol, hounds us on the Hallander:  
F●ls coated Gownsmen, sells to fight with Hans  
Dunkirk, Dismantles Scotland, quarrels France;  
And hopes he now hath business shaped, & power  
T'out ●as● his life, or ours, and scape the Tower,  
And that he yet may see, ere he went down,  
His dear Clarinda circled in a Crown.  
By this time both the Fleets in reach, dispute,  
And each the other mortally Salute:  
Draw pensive Neptune biting of his thumbs,  
To think himself a Slave, who e'er o'er comes;  
And frighted Nymphs retreating to the Rocks,  
Beating their blue breasts, tearing their green locks  
Paint Echoes slain, only the alternate sound  
From the repeating Cannon doth rebound;  
Opdam sails up, mounted on his Naval throne,  
Assuming Courage greater than his own:  
Makes to the Duke, and threatens him from far,  
To nail himself to's Board like a Petar:  
But in this vain attempt, taketh fire too soon,  
And flies up in his Ship to catch the Moon:  
Mounsiers, like Rockets, mount aloft and crack  
In thousand sparks, then prancingly fall back;  
Yet ere this happened, Destiny allowed  
Him his Revenge, to make his Death more proud  
A fatal Bullet from his side did range  
And battered Lawson, Ah! too dear exchange:  
He led our Fleet (that day) too short a space;  
But lost his Knee, died since in honour's Race:  
Lawson, whose Valour beyond Fate doth go,  
Doth still fight Opdam in the shades helow.  
The Duke himself, though Pen did not forget,  
Yet was not out of Dangers random set.  
Falmouth was there, I know not what to act,  
Unless it was to grow Duke by Contract;  
An un-taught Bullet in its wanton scope,  
Quashes him all to pieces and his hope:  
Such as his Rise, such was his Fall, unpraised,  
A chance-shot sooner took, then chance him raised  
His shattered head the fearless Duke disdains,  
Which gave the last, first proof that he had brains.  
Berkley had heard it soon, and thought not good  
To venture more of Royal Hardings blood;  
To be immortal, he was not of Age,  
And did even now the Indian prize presage;  
But judged it safe and decent (cost what cost)  
To lose the Day, since his drar Brother's lost,  
With his whole Squadron strait away he bore,  
And like good Boy, promised to fight no more.  
The Dutch Aurania careless at Us failed,  
And promised to do, what Opdam failed;  
Smith (to the Duke) doth intercept her way;  
And cleaves there, closer than the Re-mo-ra:  
The Captain wondered, and withal disdained,  
So strongly, by a thing so small, to be detained;  
And in a raging bravery to him runs,  
They stabbed their Ships with one another's Guns;  
They fight so near, it seems to be on ground,  
And even Bullets meeting Bullets wound;  
The noise, the smoke, the sweat, the fire, the blood,  
Is not to be expressed, nor understood;  
Each Captain from the quarter Deck Commands,  
They wave their bright Swords glittering in their hands;  
All luxury of war, all Man can do  
In a Sea-fight, did pass between them two:  
But one must conquer, who so e'er does Fight;  
Smith took the Giant, and is since made Knight.  
Marlborow, who knew, & dared no more then All,  
Falls undistinguished by an Iron-Ball;  
Dear Lord, but born under a Star ungrate,  
No soul so clear, nor none more gloomy fate:  
Who would set up Wars trade, that means to thrive,  
Death picks the valiant out, Cowards survive:  
What the brave merit, the Impudent do vaunt,  
And none's rewarded, but the Sycophant:  
Hence all his life-time, he against Fortune fenced,  
Or not well known, or not well recompensed;  
But envy, not this praise to's Memory,  
None more prepared, and none less fit to die:  
Rupert did others, and himself excel:  
Holmes, Tiddiman, Minns; bravely Sanson fell.  
What Others did, let none omitted, blame;  
I shall record, who e'er brings in his name;  
But unless after stories disagree,  
Nine only came to fight, the rest to see.  
Now all conspire unto the Dutchman's loss,  
The wind, the fire, We, They themselves do cross.  
When a sweet sleep the Duke began to drown,  
And with soft Diadems his Temples crown;  
But first he order all besides himself to watch,  
That they the Foe (whilst he a Nap) should catch:  
But Brunker by a secreter instinct  
Slept not, nor needs he, he all day had winked;  
The Duke in Bed; he than first draws his Steel,  
Whose Virtue makes the misled Compass reel:  
So ere he wakes, both Fleets are innocent,  
And Brunker Member is of Parliament.  
And now dear Painter, after pains like those,  
'Twere time that thou and I too should repose:  
But all our Navy scape so sound of Limb,  
That a small space served to Refresh its Trim:  
And a tame Fleet of theirs do Convoy want,  
Laden with both the Indies and Levant:  
Paint but this one Scene more, the worlds our own  
The Haltion Sandwich doth Command alone;  
To Bergen now with better Maw we hast,  
And the sweet spoils in hope already taste:  
Though Clifford in the Character appears,  
Of Super Cargo to our Fleet, and Theirs.  
Wearing a Signet ready to clap on,  
And cease on all for's Master Arlington.  
Ruiter, whose little Sqadron skimes the Seas,  
And wasteth our remotest Colonies,  
With Ships all soul, return upon our way.  
Sandwich would not disperse, nor yet delay;  
And therefore like Commander Grave and Wife,  
To escape his sight and fight, shuts both his eyes:  
And for more state and sureness, Curtains drew,  
He the left eye closes, the right Mountegue.  
And even Clifford proffered in his Zeal,  
To make all sure, to apply to both his Seal.  
Ulysses so till he the Cyrens past,  
Would by his Mates be Pinioned to the Mast.  
Now can our Navy view the wished for Port,  
But there (to see the fortune) was a Fort.  
Sandwich would not be beaten, nor yet beat,  
Fools only fight, the Prudent use to Treat.  
His Conzen Mountegue by Court disaster,  
Dwingled into a wooden Horse's Master.  
To speak of Peace. seeemed unto all most proper,  
Had Talbot there treated of nought but Copper:  
What are Forts when void of Ammunition,  
With friend or foe? what would we more condition  
Yet we three days (till the ‛ Dutch furnished all,  
Men, Money, Cannon, Powder) treat with Wall.  
Then Tiddy finding that the Dane would not,  
Sends in six Captains bravely to be shot:  
And Montague, though dressed like any Bride,  
Though Aboard him too, was reached and died.  
Sad was this chance, and yet a deeper care,  
Wrinkled our Membrains under forehead fair:  
The Dutch Armado yet had impudence,  
To put to Sea, to waft their Merchants thence;  
For as if all their Ships of Walnuts were,  
The more we beat them, still the more they bear.  
But a good Pilot, and favouring wind,  
Brings Sandwich back, and once again doth blind.  
Now gentle Painter, ere we leap on shore,  
With thy last strokes ruffle a Tempest o'er;  
As if in our approach the Winds and Seas,  
Would undertake the Dutch, whilst we take ease:  
The Seas their spoils within our Hatches throw,  
The Wind both Fleets into our mouths did blow,  
Strewed all their Ships along the Coast by ours,  
As easy to be gathered up as Flowers.  
But Sandwich fears for Merchants to mistake  
A man of War, amongst these Flowers a Snake,  
Two Indian Ships, pregnant with Eastern Pearls,  
And Diamonds, sates the Officers and Earls;  
Then warning of our Fleet, he it divides  
Into the Ports, and he to Oxford rides:  
Whilst the Dutch reuniting to our shames,  
Ride all insulting o'er the Downs and Thames;  
Now treating Sandwich seems the fittest choice  
For Spain, there to condole and to rejoice:  
He meets the French, but to avoid all harms,  
Slips into Groin, Embassies bears no Arms.  
There let him languish a long Quarrentine,  
And ne'er to England come, till he be clean.  
Henceforth (O Gemini) two Dukes Command,  
Caster and Pollux, Aumerle, Cumberland:  
Since in one Ship; It had been fit they went  
Io Pettyes double-keeled Experiment.   

To the King.  
IMperial Prince! King of the Seas, and Isles,  
Dear Object of our Joys, and Heavens smiles,  
What boots it, that thy Light doth gild our days  
And we lie basking in thy milder Rays;  
Whilst swarms of Infects, from thy warmth begun,  
Our Land devour, and Intercept thy Sun:  
Thou, like Ioves Minos, Rul'st a greater Crect,  
And for its hundred Cities, counts thy Fleet:  
Why wilt thou that State Daedalus allow,  
Who builds thee but a Labyrinth, and a Cow:  
If thou a Minos, be a Judge severe,  
And in's own Maze confine the Engineer.  
Or if our Sun, since he so near presumes,  
Melt the soft wax, with which he imps his Plumes;  
Then let him falling, leave his hated Name,  
Unto those Seas, his Wars have set on flame;  
From that Enchanter, having cleared thine eyes,  
Thy Native sight willed pierce within the Skies,  
And view those Kingdoms full of Joy and Light,  
where's Unevarsal Triumph; but no Fight:  
Since both from heaven thy care & power descend  
Rule by its Pattern, there to reascend;  
Let Justice only Draw, and Battle cease;  
Kings are in War but Cards. they're Gods in peace,  
Thus having Fought, we know not why, nor yet  
W'ave done we know not what, or what we get;  
If to Espouse the Ocean, all these pains,  
Princes Unite, and will forbid the Banes:  
If to discharge fanatics, this makes more,  
For all fanatics turn, when sick or poor:  
Or if the House of Commons, to repay  
Their Prize Commissions are transferred away.  
If for Triumphant Check, Stones, or a Shell  
For Duchess Closet, 't'as succeeded well.  
If to make Parliaments all odious pass,  
If to reserve a standing Force, alas:  
Or if (as just Orange) to reinstate,  
Instead of that, he is Regenerate.  
And with four Millions vainly given or spent,  
And with five Millions more of detriment;  
Our Sum amounts, yet only to have won,  
A Bastard Orange for Pimp Arlington.  
Now may Historians, argue Con and Pro,  
Denham says thus, though Waller always so;  
But he good man, in his long Sheet and Staff,  
This Penance did for Cromwel's Epitaph;  
And his next Theme must be the Duke's Mistress,  
Advice to Draw Madam L'AEdificatresse.  
FINIS.   

THE Third Advice TO A PAINTER, On our last Summer's Success with French and Dutch, 1666.  
Written by the same hand as the former was.  
SAndwich in Spain now, and the Duke in Love,  
Ler's with new Generals, a new Painter prove  
lilly's a Dutchman dangerous in his Art,  
His Pencils may intelligence impart.  
Thou Gibson who among the Navy small,  
Of Marshaled Shells, Commandest Admiral;  
Thyself so slender, that thou showst no more  
Than Barnicle new hatched of them before:  
Come mix thy water Colours, and express,  
Drawing in Little, what we do in Less:  
First paint me George and Rupert, rattling far,  
Within one Box, like the two Dice of War;  
And let the Terror of their linked Names,  
Fly through the Air, like Chain-shot, tearing Flame  
jove in one Cloud did scarcely wrap  
Lightning so fierce, but never such a clap:  
Unighted Generals, sure the only spell;  
Wherewith United-Provinces to quell:  
Alas, even they (though shelled in treble Oak)  
Will prove an Adle-Egg, with double Yoalk:  
And therefore next uncouple either Hound,  
And Low-them at two Hares, ere one be found;  
Rupert to Beaufort, Hollow-Ay there Rupert;  
Like the fantastic Hunting of St- Hubert,  
When he with Earthy Hound, & Horn of Air,  
Pursues through Fountebleau the witchy Hare:  
Deep providence of State! that could so soon  
Fight Beaufort here, ere he had quit Thoulon:  
So have I seen e'er humane quarrels rise,  
Forebodeing Meteors combat in the Skies;  
But let the Prince to fight with rumours go,  
The General meets a more substantial Foe;  
Ruiter he spies, and full of youthful heat,  
(Though half their number) thinks has odds to great  
The Fowler watches so the watery spot  
And more the Fowl, hopes for the better shot;  
Though such a Limb were form his Navy torn,  
He felt no weakness, yet like Samson shorn,  
But swollen with sense of former Glory won,  
Thought Monck must be by Albemarle outdone;  
Little he knew, with the same Arm and Sword,  
How far the Gentleman out-cuts the Lord:  
Ruyter inferior unto none for Heart,  
Superior now in Number and in Art;  
Asked if he thought, as once our Rebel Nation,  
To conquer them too by a Declaration;  
And threatens, though now he so proudly sail,  
He shall tread back his Iter Boreale:  
This said, he the short period ere it ends,  
With Iron words from Brazen mouths extends;  
Monck yet prevents him, ere the Navies meet,  
And Charges in himself alone, a Fleet,  
And with so quick and frequent motion wound,  
His murdering sides about the Ship seemed round,  
And the exchange of his encircling Tyre,  
Like flaming Hoops showed like Triumphant fire;  
Single he does at their whole Navy aim,  
And shoots them tbrough a porcupine of Flame;  
He plays with Danger, and his Bullets trouls,  
As 'twere at Tron-Madam through all the holds;  
In noise so regular his Cannons met,  
You'd think 'twas Thunder, unto Music set;  
Ah, had the rest but kept a time as true,  
What Age could such a martial Confort show?  
The listening Air unto the distant shore,  
Through secret Pipes conveys the tuned Roar,  
Till as the Echo vanishing abate,  
Men feel a deaf sound, like the Pulse of Fate:  
If Fate expire, let Monk her place supply,  
His Guns determine who shall live or die;  
But Victory does always hate a Rant;  
Valours her Brave, but Conducts her Gallant.  
Ruiter no less with virtuous envy burns,  
And Prodigies for Miracles returns,  
Yet he observed how still the Iron-Balls  
Brusled in vain against our Oaken walls;  
And the hard Pellets fell away as dead,  
Which our enchanted Timber filllipped:  
Leave then (said he) th' unvulnerable Keel,  
We'll find them feeble like Achilles' heel:  
He quickly taught, and pours in continnal Clouds  
Of chained Dilemnaes', through our sinewy shrowds  
Forests of Masts fall with their rude Embrace,  
Our stiff Sails, Mashed and netted into Lace,  
Till our whole Navy lay their wanton mark,  
And no Ship now could sail; but as the Ark.  
Shot in the wing, so at the Powders call,  
The disappointed Bird does fluttering fall;  
Yet Monck disabled, still such Courage shows,  
As none into his mortal gripes durst close:  
So an old Bustard maimed, yet loath to yield,  
Duels the Fowler, in Newmarket-field;  
But soon he found it was in vain to fight,  
And imps his Plumes the best he may for flight.  
This Painter were an noble task to tell,  
What indignation his great breast did swell;  
Not virtuous men unworthily abused,  
Not constant Lovers without cause refused;  
Not honest Merch●●r broke, Not skilful Player  
Hist off the Stage, Not Sinner in despair,  
Not losing Rooks, Not Favourites disgraced,  
Not Rump by ‛ Oliver or Menck displaced,  
Not Kings deposed, Nor Prelates when they die,  
Feel half the rage of Generals when they fly:  
Ah! rather than transmit our scorn to Fame.  
Draw Curtains (gentle Artist) o'er the shame.  
Cashier the memory of Dutel, raised up  
To taste (instead of death) his Highness' Cup:  
And if the thing were true, yet paint it not  
How Berkley (as he long deserved) was shot;  
Though others, that surveyed the corpse (too clear)  
Say only, he was putrified with fear,  
And the hard Statue Mummied without Gum,  
Might the Dutch Balm have ipared an English tomb  
But if thou wilt paint Minns turned all to soul,  
And the great Harman charkt almost to coal,  
And jordan old, thy Pencils worthy pain,  
Who all the way held up the Dukal-train:  
But in a dark cloud cover Ascough, when  
He quit the Prince; t'imbarque in Lovesteain.  
And wounded Ships, which we immortal boast,  
Now first led Captive to an hostile coast;  
But must with Story of the Hand or Thumb  
Conceal, as Honour would, his Grace's Bum,  
When the rude bullet a large collop tore  
Out of that buttock, never turned before:  
Fortune it seems would give him by that lash,  
Gentle correction, for his fight so rash;  
But should the Rump perceive't, they'd say that Mars  
Had now revenged them upon Aumar●s Arse.  
The long disaster better o'er to veil,  
Paint only Ionas three days in the Whale;  
Then draw the youthful Perseus all in haste,  
From a Sea-beast to free a Virgin chaste:  
But neither riding Pegasus for speed,  
Nor with the Gorgon shielded at his need;  
For no less time did conquering Ruyter chaw,  
Our flying Gen'ral in his spongy Jaw;  
So Rupert the Sea-Dragon did invade,  
But to save George himself, and not the Maid;  
And so arriving safe, he quickly missed,  
Even Sails to fly, not able to resist;  
Not Greenland Seamen that survive the fright  
Of the cold Chaos, and a half-years night;  
So gladly the returning Sun adore,  
Or run to spy their next years Fleet from shore,  
Hoping yet once within the Oily side  
Of the fat Whale, again their spears to hide,  
Or our glad Fleet with universal shout,  
Salute the Prince, and wish the other bout:  
Nor Winds long Prisoners in Earth's hollow vault,  
The fallow Seas so eagerly assault;  
As fiery Rupert with revengeful joy,  
Does on the ‛ Dutch his hungry courage cloy:  
But soon unrigged, lay like a useless board,  
As wounded in the wrist, Men drop the sword:  
When a propitious Cloud hetwixt us stepped,  
And in our Aid did Ruyter intercept;  
Old Homer yet did never introduce,  
To save his Heroes, missed of better use.  
Worship the Sun, who dwells where he does rise,  
This Mist doth more deserve our Sacrifice,  
Now joyful fires and the exalted Bell,  
With Court Gazettes, our empty Triumphs tell,  
Alas, the time dr●ws near, when overturned,  
The lying Bells will through the tongue be burned  
Paper shall want to Print that Lie of State,  
And our false fires, true fires shall explate:  
Stay Painter here a while, and I will stay,  
Not vex the future times with nice survey;  
Seest not the Monkey Duchess all undressed,  
Paint thou but her, and she will Paint the rest;  
The sad fate found her in her outward Room,  
Nailing up Hanging, not of Persian Loom,  
Like chaste Penelope, that ne'er did room,  
But made all fine, against her George came home;  
Upon a Ladder in a Coat much shorter,  
She stood with Groom and Porter for supporter,  
And careless what they saw, or what they thought  
With Honi Pensi, honestly she wrought;  
For in she Generals breech, none could she knows  
Carry away the piece with Eyes or Nose;  
One Tenter drove, to lose no time or place,  
At once the Ladder they remove and grace;  
Whilst thus they her translate from North to East,  
In posture of a foul-footed Beast,  
She heard the News, but altered yet no more,  
Then that which was behind she turned before:  
Nor would come down, but with a Handkerchief,  
Which pocket foul, did to her Neck prefer;  
She dried no tears, for she was so Viraginous,  
But only snuffling her Trunk Cartilaginous;  
From Scaleing-ladder she begun a Story,  
Worthy to think on, as Memento Mori  
Arraigning past, and present, and futuri,  
With a Prophetic, if not Spirit fury;  
Her Hair began to creep, her Belly sound,  
Her Eyes to startle, with her Udder bound;  
Half Witch, half Prophet, thus she Albemarle  
Like Presbyterian Sibyl out did snarl,  
Traitors both to my Lord, and to the King,  
Nay now it grows beyond all suffering;  
One valiant man at Land, and he must be  
Commanded out to stop their Leaks at Sea.  
Yet send him Rupert, as a helper meet,  
First the Command dividing, than the Fleet.  
One may may if they be beat, or both be hit,  
But if they overcome, yet honours split:  
But Reckoning George already knocked o'th' head,  
They cut him out like Beef ere he be dead;  
Each for a Quarter hopes, the first doth skip,  
But shall fall short, though at the Generalship.  
Next they for Master of the Horse agree;  
A third the Cockpit begs, not any me,  
But they shall know, I marry shall they do;  
That who the Cockpit has, shall have me too.  
I told George first, as Calamy told me,  
If the King these brought over, thus 'twould be.  
Men that have picked his pocket to his face;  
To sell Intelligence, or buy a Place:  
That their Religion pawned for clothes, nor care  
'T'ad ●un so long, now to redeem't, or dare.  
Oh! what egregious Loyalty to Cheat,  
Oh! what fidelity it was to eat,  
Whilst Langdale, Hopton, Glenham starved abroad,  
And here true Loyalists sunk beneath their load.  
Men that did there affront, defame, betray  
The King, and do so here, now who but they.  
What say I men? nay rather monsters: men  
Only in bed; nor to my knowledge then:  
See how they home return with Revel Rout,  
With the same measure that they first went out,  
No better grown, nor wiser all this while,  
Renew the causes of their first Exile.  
As is to show you Fools, what 'tis I mean;  
I choose a foul smock, when I might have clean.  
First they for fear disband the Army tame,  
And leave good George an empty General's name:  
Next Bishops must revive, and all unfix,  
With discontents, for contents twenty six;  
The Lord's House drains the Houses of the Lord;  
For Bishop's voices silencing the Word.  
O Bartholomew, Saint of their Calendar,  
What's worse, their ejection, or their massacre.  
Then Culp'per, Gloucester, ere the Princess died,  
Nothing can live, that interrupts a Hide:  
O more than humane Gloucester, Fate did show  
Thee to the Earth, and back again withdrew.  
Then the fat Scrivener durst begin to think,  
'Twas time to mix the Royal blood with Ink.  
Berkeley who swore, as oft as he had toes,  
Does kneeling now her Chastity depose,  
Just as the first French Cardinal could restore,  
Maidenhead to his Widow, Niece, and Whore:  
For portion if she should prove light when weighed  
Four Millions shall within four years be paid.  
To raise it we must have a Naval War,  
As if 'twere nothing but Taratantar,  
Abroad all Princes disobliging first,  
At home all Parties, but the very worst.  
To tell of Ireland, Scotland, Dunkirk, 'tis sad,  
Of the King's Marriage, (but he thinks I'm mad.)  
A sweeter Creature never saw the Sun,  
If we the King wished Monck, or Queen a Nun,  
But a Dutch War must all these rumours still,  
Bleed out these humours, and our Purses spill;  
Yet after one day's Fight, trembling they saw,  
'Twas too much danger for a Son-in-Law.  
Hire him to leave with fixscore thousand pound,  
As with the King's drums, men for sleep componnd.  
The modest Sandwich thought it might agree,  
With the State-prudence to do less than he;  
And to excuse their timerousness & sloth,  
They've found how George now might do less then both.  
First, Smith must to Legorn with force enough,  
To venture back again, but not go through;  
Beaufort is there, and to their dazzling eyes  
The distance more the Object magnifies;  
Yet this they gain, that Smith his time shall lose,  
For my Duke too he cannot interpose.  
But fearing that our Navy George to break,  
Might not be found sufficiently weak;  
The Secretary that had never yet,  
Intelligence, but from his own Gazett,  
Discovers a great Secret fit to sell,  
And pays himself for ' te're he would it tell:  
Beaufort is in the Channel, Hixy here,  
Doxy Thoulon, Beaufort is every where:  
Herewith assembles the Supreme Divan,  
Where enters none but Devil, Ned, and Nan;  
And upon this pretence they strait designed,  
The Fleet to separate, and the World to blind;  
Monk to the Dutch, and Rupert (here the Wench  
Could not but smile) was destined to the French;  
To write the Order, Bristols Clerk they chose,  
One slit in's Pen, another in his Nose;  
For he first brought the News, and 'tis his place,  
He'll see the Fleet divided like his face,  
And through the Cranny in that Grifly part,  
To th' ‛ Dutch, thinks Intelligence may start.  
The Plot succeeds, the Dutch in haste prepare,  
And poor Peel-Garlick George's Arse they share.  
And now presuming of his certain Rack,  
To help him late, they write for Rupert back;  
Officious Will seems fittest, as afraid  
Lest George should look too far into his trade;  
On the first draught they pause with statesmen's care,  
They write it fair, then coppy't out as fair;  
These they compare, and then at last 'tis signed,  
Will soon his Purse-strings, but no Seal could find.  
At night he sends it by the common Post,  
To save the King of an Express, the cost;  
Lord! what ado to pack one Letter hence?  
Some Patents pass with less circumference;  
Well George, in spite of them thou safe dost ride,  
Lessened in nought, I hope, but thy backside;  
For as to Reputation, this Retreat  
Of thine exceeds their Victory so great,  
Nor shalt thou stir from thence by my consent,  
Till thou hast made the Dutch, and them repent:  
'Tis true, I want, so long the Nuptial gift,  
But (as I oft have done) I'll make a shift;  
Nor with vain pomp will I accost the shore,  
To try the Valour of the Buoy i'th' North:  
Fall to thy work George there, as I do here,  
Cherish the Valiant, and the Coward Cashier,  
See that the men have Pay, and Beef, and Beer,  
Find out the Cheats of the four Millioneer;  
Out of the very Beer they steal the Malt,  
Powder from Powder, and from Beef the Salt;  
Put thy hand into th' Tub, instead of Ox,  
They victual with French-Pork that hath the Pox:  
Never such Cotqueans by small Arts to ring,  
ne'er such ill Huswives in the managing;  
Purssers at Sea know fewer cheats than they;  
Mariners on shore less madly spend their Pay.  
See that thou hast new Sails thyself, and spoil  
All their Sea-markets, and their Cable coil;  
Tell the King all, who do him Countermine,  
Trust not, till done, him with thy own design;  
Look that good Chaplains on each Ship do wait,  
Nor Sea Diocese, to be Impropriate.  
Look to the Prisoners sick, and wounded all,  
As Prize, they rob the very Hospital;  
Recover back the Prizestoo, in vain  
We fight, if all be taken which is ta'en,  
Along our Coasts, the Dutchmen, like a flight  
Oh feeding Ducks, Morning and Evening light.  
How our Land-hectors' tremble, void of fence,  
As if they came strait to transport them hence,  
Some Ship are stolen, the Kingdom all arrayed  
And even Presbyters now called to aid;  
They wish even George, divided, to Command  
One half of him the Sea, t'other the Land.  
What's that I see; ha! 'tis my George again  
It seems in seven weeks they've rigged him then,  
That curious Heaven with lightning him surrounds  
To view him, and his Name in Thunder sounds,  
But with the same shaft gores his Navy near,  
So e'er we hunt, the Keeper shoots the Deer.  
Stay Heaven a while, and thou shalt see him sail,  
And how George too can Lighten, Thunder, Hail,  
Happy the time that I thee wedded George,  
The Sword of England, and of Holland scourge.  
Avaunt Roterdam-dog! Ruiter Avaunt,  
Thou Water-Rat, thou Shark, thou Cormorant;  
I'll teach thee to shoot Scissors, I'll repair,  
Each Rope thou losest George, out of this Hair,  
ere thou shalt lack a Sail, and lie a drift,  
('Tis strong, and course enough) I'll cut this Shift,  
Bring home the Old ones, I again will few,  
And darne them up to be as good as new.  
What I twice disabled? never such a thing;  
Now (Sovereign) help him that brought in the King  
Guard thy Posterior lest, left all be gone,  
Though Jury-Masts, th' haste Jury-Buttocks none.  
Courage; how bravely whet with this disgrace  
He turns, and Bullets spits in Ruiters face.  
They fly! they fly! their Fleet does now divide,  
But they discard their Trump, our Trump is Hide.  
Where are you now de Ruiter with your Bears?  
See how your Merchants burn about your ears.  
Fire out the wasps, George, from their hollow trees,  
Crammed with the Honey of our English Bees.  
Ay now they're paid for Guiny, ere they steer  
To the hot Coast, they find it hotter here.  
Turn all your Ships to Stoves ere you set forth,  
To warm your Traffic in the frozen North.  
Ah! Sandwich had thy Conduct been the same,  
Bergen had seen a less, but richer Flame;  
Nor Ruiter lived new Battle to repeat,  
And oftener beaten be than we can beat.  
Scarce has George leisure after all this pain,  
To tie his Breeches, Ruiter's out again:  
Thrice in one year? why sure the man is wood,  
Beat him like Stockfish, or he'll ne'er be good.  
I see them both again, prepared to try,  
They first shoot through each other with the Eye.  
Then— but that ruling Providence that must  
With humane projects play, as Wind with Dust,  
Raised a Storm, (so Constables a Fray,  
Knock down) and send them both well cuffed away.  
Plant now Virginia Sirs in English Oak,  
Build your Ship-ribs proof, to the Cannon stroke;  
To get a Fleet to Sear exhaust the Land,  
Let longing Princes pine for the Command;  
Strong Merchants! Wafers, so thin a puff  
Of angry Air, can ruin all that nuff.  
So Champions having shared the List, and Sun,  
The Judge throws down his Warder, & they've done  
For shame come home George, 'tis for thee too much  
To fight at once with Heaven, and the Dutch.  
Woe's me! what see I next? alas the Fate  
I see of England, and its utmost date;  
These flames of theirs, at which we fond smile,  
Kindled like Torches, our Sepuchral Pile?  
War, Fire, and Plague, against us all conspire;  
We the Fire, God the Plague, who raised the Fire?  
See how men all like Ghosts, while London burns  
Wander, and each o'er his Ashes mourns.  
Dear George! sad fate! vain mind! that did me please  
To meet thine with far other flames then these.  
Cursed be that man that first began this War;  
In an ill hour under a blazing Star:  
For others sport, two Nations fight a Prize,  
Between them both, Religion mounded dies.  
So of first Troy the angry Gods unpaid,  
Razed the foundations which themselves had laid.  
Welcome, though late dear George, here hadst thou been  
W'nad scaped, let Rupert bring the Navy in;  
Thou still must help them out, when in the mire,  
General at Land, at Sea, at Plague, at Fire.  
Now thou art gone, Beaufort dares here approach,  
And our Fleet Angling, hath caught a Roach.  
Gibson, farewell till next we put to Sea,  
Faith thou hast drawn her in Effigy.   


To the King.  
GReat Prince, and so much greater, as more wise  
Sweet as our life, and dearer than our eyes;  
What Servants will conceal, and Counsellors spare;  
To tell the Painter, and the Poet dare;  
And the assistance of an heavenly Muse,  
And Pencils, Represent the Times abstruse.  
Here needs no Fleet, no Sword, no Forreign-Foe;  
Only let Vice be damned and Justice flow:  
Shake but (like jove) thy Locks Divine, and frown,  
Thy Sceptre will sffice to guard thy Crown.  
Hark to Cassandra's song 'ere Fate destroy,  
By thy own Navies Wooden-Horse, thy Troy.  
Us, our Apollo, from the Tumults wave,  
And gentle Gales, though but in Oars will save.  
So Philomela, her sad embrohdery strung,  
And vocal Silks tuned with her vocal Tongue;  
The picture dumb, in Colours loud revealed,  
The Tragedies of Court, so long concealed.  
but when restored to voice, enclosed with wings,  
To Woods and Groves, which once she painted sings.   
FINIS.