News from Hell: OR A SPEECH of a GHOST of one of the old Kings of Ormus, who being damned for his Luxury, was for his punishment sent to Earth to ruin his own Family, and disturb the State.  
Being a Mirror for Monarchs, mitres, and Magistrates, to direct their Steps into the Ways of Peace and Truth.  Let the King live; but let Ill Government die. 
By E. F. Philopatris.  
LONDON, Printed for the Booksellers, in the Year, 1680.   

A SPEECH OF A Ghost, &c.  

THou Monster horrible, under whose ugly Doom,  
Down in Eternity's perpetual Night,  
Man's temp'ral Sins bear Torments Infinite:  
For change or Desolation must I come,  
To tempt the Earth, and to profane the Light;  
From mournful Silence, where Pain dares not roar  
With liberty, to multiply it more;  
Nor from the loathsome Puddle Acheron,  
Made foul with common Sins, whose filthy Damps  
Feed Lethes Sink, forgetting all but Moan;  
Nor from that foul Infernal shadowed Lamp,  
Which lighteth sisyphus to roll his ston;  
These be but Bodies Plagues, the skirts of Hell,  
I come from whence Death's Seat doth Death excel.   

A Place there is, upon no Center placed,  
Deep under Depths, as far as is the Sky  
Above the Earth, dark, infinitely spac'd;  
Pluto the King; the Kingdom, Misery.  
The crystal may God's Glorious Seat resemble;  
Horror itself these Horro●s but dissemble.   

Privation would reign there, by God not made,  
But Creature of an uncreated Sin;  
Whose Being is all Beings to invade;  
To have no ending, though it did begin:  
And so of past, things present, and to come,  
To give depriving, not tormenting Doom.  
But Horror in the Understanding mixed,  
And memory by Eternity's Seal wrought,  
Unto the Bodies of the Evil fixed,  
And into Reason by our Passion brought,  
Here racked, torn, and exiled from unity,  
Though come from nothing, must for ever be.   

The Sins that enter here are capital,  
Atheism, where Creatures their Creator lose;  
Unthankful Pride, Nature and Graces fall,  
Bane of Mankind, in Man unnatural.  
Hyp'crites, which Bodies leave and Shadows ●●ose,  
The Persons, either Kings by Fortune blessed,  
Or Men, by Nature made Kings of the rest.  
Here Tyrants, that corrupt Authority,  
By Plots which they contrived in Wickedness,  
Cunning in Mischief, proud in Cruelty,  
Are Furies made, to plague the weaker Ghosts;  
Whose Souls enticing Pleasure only lost.  
The weaker Kings, whose more unconstant 'vice,  
Their States unto their Humours made a prey;  
For suffering more than Kings to tyramnize,  
Are damned, though here to be, yet not to stay:  
For back they go to tempt with every Sin,  
Which easiest is the World to enter in.   

myself sometimes was such, Ormus my State;  
I bare the Name, yet did my Bashaw's reign.  
Trusts to few Windows are unfortunate;  
For Subjects growing full, are Princes wane.  
Lo, all misdeeds procure their own misfate:  
For by my trusted Bashaws was I slain;  
Now sent to tear down my posterity,  
That have their Sins inheritance from me.   

My first Charge is, the ruin of mine own;  
Hell keeping knowledge still of Earthliness;  
None coming there but Spirits overgrown,  
And more embodied into Wickedness:  
The Body by the Spirit living ever;  
The Spirit in the Body joying never.  
In heaven perchance no such Affections be,  
Those Angel Souls in Flesh imprisoned,  
Like Strangers, living in mortality,  
Still more and more themselves inspirited;  
Refining Nature to eternity,  
By being Maids in Earths Adulterous Bed,  
And idly do forget all here below,  
Where we our Parents, but to plague them, know.   

My next Charge is, from this dark Regiment,  
With wil●ss to scourge this Age effeminate,  
Not open Force, or Humours violent,  
Time fashions Minds, Minds Manners, Manners Fate;  
Where Rage gives place, Wit must rule ill intent;  
Proud Honour being an Evil for this State  
Too strong; slight must misled the Innocent;  
Craft, the Corrupt: for though none dares be just,  
Yet Coward ill, with Care, grow wicked must.   

This present King, weak both in Good and Ill;  
Loving his Trust, and trusting but his Chefs,  
Shall perish in his own Faith's Wantonness;  
betrayed by Alaham, whom he knows ill,  
Yet to beware lacks active Constantness,  
The Destiny of well-believing Wit,  
That hath not strength of judgement joined with it.   

Al'ham his Son, fond of the Father's Throne,  
Desire his Idol, Liberty his Might,  
As overborne with Error infinite,  
Shall find that Fate all secret faults can hit:  
For he, that for himself would ruin all,  
Shall perish in his Craft unnatural.   

Hala his Wife, divers and strong in Lust,  
Lib'ral out of Self-Love, of Error proud;  
When shameless Craft and Rage have served her turn,  
In Pride's vain-glorious Martyrdom shall burn.   

Zophi the eldest Son, whose Reason is  
With Frailty drowned, and Silliness confused;  
Born but to live, and yet denied this;  
( So well knows power what Spir'ts may be abused)  
Becomes the Prey of factious crafty Wit,  
Which stirs that ruin up, which ruins it.   

Cain Bashaw( like the Clouds, who live in Air,  
Th'Orb of Natures constant inconstancy)  
Now famed, now shane shall in his Fortune bear;  
His 'vice and virtue still in Infancy;  
Change for his Wisdom, and Chance for his Ends;  
harmed by his Hopes, and ruined by his Friends.   

Mah'met with Honour fain would change the Tide,  
Oft-times corrupt; here stoping Violence;  
There countermining Craft, and pleading Right;  
But Reason sworn in general to Sense,  
Make Honour Bondage, Justice an Offence;  
Till Liberty, that fair deceiving Light,  
Turns Mischief to an Humour Popular,  
Where goo● Men catched in Nets of Duty are.   

Caelica( because in Flesh no Seeds are sown  
Of heavenly Grace, but they must bring up Weeds)  
Death in her Father's Murder she affects;  
seduced by Glory, whose excess still feeds  
itself upon the barren steeps of Mone;  
For human Wit wants Power to divide,  
Whereby Affections into Error slide.   

Heli the Priest, who teaching from without,  
Corrupted Faith, bound under Laws of Might;  
Not feeling God, yet blowing him about  
In every Shape and Likeness but the right;  
Seeking the World, finds Change there joined with Chance,  
To ruin those whom Error would advance.   

Now mark your Charge; Each Fury work his part  
In senseless Webs of Mischief over-thwart.  
You are not now to work on private thoughts,  
One instant is your time to alter all;  
Corruption Universal must be wrought,  
Impossible to you is Natural;  
Plots and Effects together, must be brought;  
Mischief and shane at once must spring and fall;  
Use more than power of Man to bring forth that,  
Which( it is meant) all Men shall wonder at.   

Craft go thou forth, work Honour into Lust;  
Malice, sow in Self-love Unworthiness;  
Fear, make it safe for no Man to be Just;  
Wrong, be thou clothed in Powers comeliness;  
Wit, play with Faith; take Glory in Mistrust;  
Let Duty and Religion go by guess;  
Furies, stir you up War; which follow must,  
When all things are corrupt with Doubleness.  
From 'vice to 'vice let Error multiply,  
With uncouth Sins, Murders, Adulteries,  
Incorp'rate all kind of Iniquity,  
Translate the State to foreign Tyrannies;  
Keep'down the Best, and let the Worst have power,  
That War and Hell may all at once devour.   

Tophet prepared was for Kings of old:  
For States grow old, when Princes leave the Ways  
Of Honour, and take Pleasure for their Ends;  
For that a large is, this a narrow Way;  
That wins a World, but this a few dark Friends:  
The one improving Worthiness, spreads far;  
Under the other Good things Prisoners are.  
For when Respect, which is the strength of States,  
Declines without, by Kings descent within,  
And that powers Baby-Creatures dare set Rates  
Of Scorn on Worth, and Honour upon Sin;  
Then, though King's-Player-like, act Glory's Part,  
Yet all within them is but Fear, and Art.   

If Joys of Heaven cannot invite,  
Nor Plagues of Hell our Senses fright,  
We may even bid our Souls goodnight.   
FINIS.