The Old New True Blue Protestant-Plot Or Five Years Sham-Plots DISCOVERED in one True one. To the Tune of,— I told Young-Jenny, I loved her well. I. NOw Innocent Blood's almost forgot, We have found the Original Ground of the Plot, Now every Moon-Blind-Rebell may know, That Providence sees our Actions below. Now Oats for Pegs, may pack up his All's, And there inform his Master; To furnish Rooms make fire in the Hall's For Company that comes after. II. These are not like our Plots of Old, When Evidence swore for Silver and Gold. These are no Armies under Ground, No Shame Magazines that never were found, No Spanish Pilgrims, and Black-Bills, But open processed Traitors; Where Per jury spares the Sword it kills, These are our Saintlike Sayters. III. These are the Blades, detected by Laws, 〈◊〉 Contempt of Justice decide it with Blows. These are the Bloodhounds of our Age, That brought our late Monarch upon the Stage, Yet these more Barbarous brutes of ours, Would Murder both King and Brother. and lay the Gild at innocent doors, and still continue the Murder. IV. From thence the Sacrifice begins, To Massacre others for their own sins: And this has been the Plots support. First made in the City, then forced on the Court, But now the Mysteries brought to light, True Innocence is Protection, Surprising Rebels dare not fight, Their Souls are Imperfections. V. If they had Butchered the Royal Line, To Murder its Friends they were to Join, The like was never on Record In the wide Wilderness of the World; To Rob the Kingdom of all that's Good, And none but Rebels Surviving, To Lord it o'er three Notions in Blood; Each to be an Oliver striving. VI The Saddle is now on the Right Horse, The whigs must mount for Tyburn in Course. For these can be no false Alarms, We have their Confession the Men and their Arms, Makes Catch perceive his Harvest is near He swears if his Horse do not fail him, He'll not take a thousand pound this year, For what his Trade may avail him. LONDON Printed for J. Dean, 1683.