No Protestant Plot, Or, The Whigs Loyalty: With the Doctor New Discovery.  
To the Tune of, Burton House, Or, London's Loyalty.  
Entered according to Order.  

[1]  
HELL'S restless Factious ' Agents still Plot on,  
And Eighty Three smells rank of Forty One;  
The Royal Martyrs Foes pursue his Sons,  
Who seek their Lives with Blunderbuss and Guns:  
The Infernal Regicides so inflamed with Zeal,  
Are for Killing King, and Duke, t' Erect a Common-weal;  
This is the Daily Trade and Practice of our Modern whigs,  
Tho' they're always baffled in their Damned Intrigues.   

[II.]  
What! Ho! cries Titus, riseye sleepy Heads,  
Unless you'll all be Murdered in your Beds;  
Fierce Hannibal of France is at your Gate,  
Come Rascals, Mutiny ere it is too late;  
The Spanish Pilgrims, once hired to cut your Throats,  
Are Landed now at Milford Haven, believe your Saviour Oats;  
And the Horrid Popish Army, that were hid under Ground,  
Are, I'll take my Oath, within a Trumpets Sound.   

[III.]  
See there, a Fight Army in the Air!  
But now it vanishes, and disappears;  
A Spectre told strange Things to Honest Bess,  
Which much amazed the Hatfield Prophetess:  
I told'em true at first, what Black Designs would be  
Carried on against the King, and Royal Albany,  
By the discontented whigs; but Rebel Tony since,  
Made me contradict my former Evidence.   

[IU.]  
I've lost my Swearing Trade, now by this Hand,  
Must I be forced to starve, or leave the Land;  
My injured Prince has long since on me frowned,  
For Perjuries against his Life and Crown:  
I'll follow Rumbold, Wade, Nelthorp, Walcot, Hone,  
With that Cruel Bloodhound Burton, who've all fled the Town;  
For if I tarry here much longer, I harbour dreadful Fears,  
That I shall be Hanged, or forfeit both my Ears.   

[V.]  
Unparallelled Assassins, that could dare  
To attempt the Life of Jove's Vicegerent here:  
Of whom the Gods do take such special care,  
None ought to mutter Treason to the Air;  
But cutthroat Protestants may do any thing,  
And Inform the roman-catholics how to Murder Kings;  
They take it in great Dudgeon to be equalised for Villainy,  
Yet their Hellish Crimes must pass for Loyalty.   

[VI]  
But thanks to Heaven, who did curb their Power,  
And has preserved us from that Fatal Hour:  
When Villains were to Massacre us all,  
And Noll's Successors to possess Whitehall;  
Rumsey has taken up Newgate for his Bower,  
And the Lord Russel is gone to fortify the Tower:  
Whilst we that stand for Church and State, with gerat security can Sing,  
And Pray, Jove to preserve the Life of Charles our King.   
FINIS.   

Printed for Charles Corbet, at the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-Lane, 1683.