Popish Nat's Lamentation, IN A DIALOGUE BETWEEN Nat. Thompson, the Popish Printer, and The Popish Midwife, upon his arrival in Newgate April 5. 1682.  Mid. 
ALas! dear Nat, art thou feat hither too,  
After that thou hast kept so much ado?  
When we did hope by thee and thy two Tools  
T'have seen the silly Protestants made Fools?  
How comes it Nat, that it thus comes to pass:  
That thou hast proved thyself the silly Ass?  Nat. 
Dear Mother Midnight, I was now mistaken,  
For I believed I could have saved my Bacon;  
Some men there were did Promise, Swear and Vow,  
And by the Mass they did confirm it too,  
That what they wrote, to print I should not doubt,  
And at a pinch that they would bear me out.  Mid. 
So said they once to me, yet here I lie,  
The very men who once let Coleman die.  
But yet to comfort thee, whilst thou art here,  
Thou shalt have wine, and money, and good cheer:  
For I have reason' who have found it so,  
To think them the best Keepers I do know.  Nat. 
But what will the Cursed Whigs now do and say,  
Janeway will rant now he has won the day:  
Lampoons and Songs, upon me will be made  
Laughed at by every Fool and huffing Blade,  
I shall the talk be now of the whole Town,  
And Whigs will boast how they have run me down.  Mid. 
Dear not 'twas boldly Ventured at, to make  
The Council prove what you did undertake,  
When you declared that honourable board.  
Would put you into a method proofs, to afford:  
Didst think they would believe our forged stories,  
Or that they all were such as we, false Tories.  Nat. 
My Impudence which all the world doth know  
Has dared at that which punies durst not do:  
I thought to me it would a safeguard proved  
With those, who I believed the Tories loved.  
But han't they now made good what I did say,  
And how to prove it put me in a way?  
From Newgate at the first our project flew,  
Council we here may get and Witness too.  Mid. 
Couldst thou indeed have made the world such Ninnies  
As to believe thee, thou hadst got the Guinnies,  
Thou hadst been rich, and wallowed in thy pelf,  
Couldst thou have proved Sir. Godfrey killed himself:  
Thou fairly proferd'st at it, and for that,  
They'll write thee in the Calendar St. Nat,  Nat. 
Sir. W— whom I have often Cursed▪  
Will laugh at me until his Buttons Burst,  
Indeed it is a great unhappy Chance,  
That my great friend is lately gone to France.  
Had she been here, I could have made a shift,  
She would have helped me at so Dead a lift.  Mid. 
Cheer up thy drooping heart let it not sink,  
Here you'll have leisure for to plot and think,  
Fear not the Cause dear not, tho' thou art here,  
Nor do not droop, because the Whigs will jeer.  
There's Heraclitus his forces up will muster,  
And the Observator twice a week will bluster.  Nat. 
But now IceIce got into the wicked City,  
I know that they of me will have no pity:  
I have abused them so they'll now me pay,  
Action, on Action, on my back they'll lay  
So that, dear Midwife, I begin to doubt,  
I from this place shall never more get out,  Mid. 
No Ignoramus Juries you will find.  
For you to them have always proved unkind.  
So many in this City given offence,  
By putting them in your Intelligence.  
That you must now look for no mercy here,  
Yet droop not Nat. for we will make good Cheer.  Nat. 
I don't the citizens nor City love,  
And shortly did from them intent to move,  
I was about some hundreds out to lay,  
Had I but come this job and won the day:  
I did intent to herd among your crew,  
And with my press my gainful Trade pursue.  Mid. 
Come Nat, fear not, we shall be rich and great,  
The Tories at the last the Whigs shall beat:  
The turning Tide gins to flow a pace,  
And shortly you will see another face.  
My friend th' ginger has drawn a Scheme,  
He tells me so and I dare Credit him.  Nat. 
Unlikely 'tis that Popery should advance,  
In England, when 'tis going down in France.  
The Whigs of late begin to grin and sneer,  
They have more hopes than we do know I fear:  
I now may think of all my sins are past,  
If they prevail I shall be hanged at last.  Mid. 
Ne'er fear thy Neck, but save thee if we can't,  
Dear Nat. thou shalt be made a Tyburn Saint.  
And all of us will thy black Sautus sing,  
Whilst thou art going to Heaven in astring.  
At least thou then shalt die with great applause,  
And the honour have to suffer for our Cause.  Nat. 
Die like a sullen Dog, and ne'er confess,  
That I a 'gainst my Conscience did transgress;  
That I was wheadled by the Jesuits train,  
And that I turned for the ungodly Gain.  
Tell me of Saint-ship, and a Religious gear?  
I looked for Gold, and to be Knighted here.  
I fear I did not well my Measures cast.  
If I at Tyburn should be hanged at last.  Mid. 
I see you're Melanchollic, let's go in,  
And with good Sack, we'll wash away thy sin:  
Our hopes are great, our turn will come again,  
A Fig for France if we can England Win.   

LONDON Prin●ed for J. Smith.