A SECOND COLLECTION OF The Newest and Most Ingenious Poems, Satyrs, Songs, &c.  
AGAINST Popery and Tyranny, Relating to the TIMES.  
Most of which never before Printed.  
LONDON, Printed in the Year MDCLXXXIX.   

The CONTENTS.  

THE Dream of the Cabal, a prophetic satire; writ 1672.  
The History of Insipids, A Lampoon.  
Stafford's Ghost.  
On the D— ss of P— th's Picture.  
A New Song of the Times, 1683. Or the Whiggish-Plot.  
A Dialogue between Father Petres and the Devil.  
To the Bra●●n-Head.  
The Answer.  
An Epitaph on Al. sidney.  
A Stanza put on Westminster-hall Gate.  
On Easter-day 87. this was found fixed on the King's Chapel Door.  
To the Prince of Orange, A packet of Advice, with the Pacquet-Boat return'd.  
The Story of the Pet▪ and the Kettle: as it was  told by colonel T— s, the Night before he Kist the K— s hand.  
On Rome's Pardons, by the E. of R.  
A New Song, to the Tune of Lilli-burlero.  
Popery Pickled: Or, the Jesuit shoes made of Running Leather.  
The Second Part of Lilli-burlero bullen a-la.  
Monmouth's Remembrance.  
A New Song of the French Kng's fear of an Orange.  
A Letter to the Lord Chancellor, exposing to him the Sentiments of the People, with some pertinent Advice in the conclusion.  
Dangerfield's Ghost to Jeffreys.  
A Congratulatory Poem to his Royal Highness the Prince of Orange.  
A Congratulatory Poem to his Royal Highness the Prince of Orange, or his welcome to the City of London.  
To make a catholic Pudding.  
Upon the execrable murder of the Right Honourable Arthur Earl of Essex.  
A true Account of a late Conference between the wonderful speaking Head, and Father Pulton.  
An Irish prophesy.  
The Deponents.  
Father Petres's Policy discovered, a Song to the Tune of Lulla by Babee.  
A New Song to the Tune of Hey brave Popery.  
Sir Tho. J— s Speech to his Wife and Children.  
On the P. of O. going to England with an Army to restore the Government.    

THE Dream of the Cabal, A prophetic satire, Anno 1672.  
AS t'other Night in Bed I thinking lay,  
How I my Rent should to my Landlord pay,  
●… ince Corn, nor Wool, nor Beast would Money make;  
●… umbling perplexed, these Thoughts kept me awake.  
What will become of this mad World, quoth I?  
What's its Disease, what is its Remedy?  
●… here will it issue, whereto do's it tend?  
●… ome ease to Misery 'tis to know its end.  
●… ill Servants Dreaming, as they used to do,  
●… or'd me a sleep, I fell a Dreaming too.  
●… e thought there met the Grand Cabal of Seven,  
〈…〉 Odd numbers some men say do best please Heaven)  
●… hen sat they were, and Doors were all fast shut,  
secret was behind the Hangings put:  
●… oath hear and see I could; but he that there  
●… ad placed me, bad me have as great a care  
●… f stirring, as my life: and ere that out  
●… om thence I came, resolved should be my Doubt.  
●… hat would become of this Mad World, unless  
●… resent Designs were crossed with ill success?  
●… n aweful Silence there was held some space,  
●… ill trembling, thus began one called his Grace.  
●… reat Sir, your Government for first twelve years  
●… as spoiled the Monarchy, and made our Fears  
〈…〉 potent on us, that we must change quiter  
●… h' old Foundations, and make new, wrong or right.  
●… or too great mixture of Democracy  
●… ithin this Government allayed must be;  
●… nd no alloy like nulling Parliaments  
●… ' th' Peoples Pride and Arrogance, the events  
●… actious and Saucy, disputing Royal Pleasure,  
●… ho your Commands by their own Humours measure.  
●… or King in Barnacles( and to th' Rack-Staves tied)  
●… ou must remain, if these you will abide.  
●… o spake the Long-blue Ribbon, then a Second,  
●… hough not so tall, yet quiter as Wise is reckoned,  
●… id thus begin, Great Sir, you are now on  
〈…〉 tender Point much to be thought upon,  
And thought on only; for by Ancient Law,  
'Twas Death to mention what my Lord foresaw,  
His trembling shew'd it, wherefore I 'm so bold  
To advice it's standing, lest it should be  told  
We did attempt to change it, for so much  
Our Ancestors secured it, that to touch,  
Like Sacred Mount, 'tis Death; and such a Trick,  
I no ways like my Tongue should break my Neck.  
Thus said, he sat. Then Lord of Northern Tone,  
In gull and Guile a second unto none,  
enraged rose, and Chol'rick, thus began,  
Dread Majesty, Male beam of famed, a Son  
Of th' hundred and tenth Monarch of the Nore;  
De'l split the Weam of th' Lowne that spoken afore,  
shane faw the crag of that ill manner'd Lord,  
That nent his King durst speak so faw a word;  
And awe my Saul, right weell the first man meant,  
De'l hoop his Luggs, that loves a Parliament.  
Twa Houses awe my Saul are too too mickle,  
They'll gar the Leard shall never have more a prickle;  
No Money get to gee the bonny Lass,  
But full as good be Born without a—  
Ten thousand Plagues light on his crag( that gang)  
To make you be but third part of a King.  
De'l take my Saul, I'll never the matter mince.  
I'd rather Subject be than sick a Prince,  
To Hang, and Burn, and Slay, and Draw, and Kill,  
And measure awe things by my own good will,  
Is Gay Dominion; a Cheekmate I hate,  
Of Men, or Laws, it looks so like a State.  
This eager well meant Zeal some Laughter stirred;  
Till Nose half plush, half Flesh, the Inkhorn Lord  
craved Audience thus, Grave Majesty Divine,  
( Pardon that Cambridge Title, I make mine)  
We now are ent'red on the greatest Debate  
That can concern your Throne, and Royal State.  
His Grace hath so spoken all, that we who next  
Speak after, can but comment on his Text:  
Only 'tis wonder at this sacred Board,  
should sit 'mongst us a Magna Charta Lord,  
A Peer of old Rebellious Barons breed,  
Worst, and greatest Enemies to Royal Seed.  
But to proceed; well was it urged by's Grace,  
Such Liberty was given for twelve years space  
That are by past, there's now necessity  
Of new Foundations, if safe you'll be.  
What travail, Charge and Art, before was set  
This Parliament, we had; you can't forget;  
Now force, cajole, and court, and bribe for fear  
They wrong should run, e'er since they have been here.  
What diligence, what study, day and night,  
Was on us, and what care to keep them right?  
Wherefore( if good) you can't make Parliament,  
On whom such Costs, such Art, and Pains w●re spent,  
And Moneys, all we had for them to do;  
Since we miss that, 'tis best dismiss them too.  
'Tis true this House the best is you can call,  
But in my judgement, best, is none at all:  
Well moved, the whole Cabal cried, Parliaments  
Are clogs to Princes, and their brave intents.  
One did object, 'twas against Majesty  
To obey the Peoples pleasure. Another he  
Their inconvenience argues, and that neither  
Close their Designs were, nor yet speedy either.  
Whilst thus confused Chatter'd the Cabal,  
And many moved, none heard, but speak did all;  
A little bobtail'd Lord, Urchin of State,  
A Praise-God-b●●e-bone, Peer whom all men hate,  
Amphibious Animal, half Fool, half Knave;  
●egg'd silence, and this purblin'd Counsel gave:  
blessed and best Monarch, that e'er Sceptre bore,  
Renow'd for virtue, but for Honour more;  
That Lord spake last, has well and wisely shown,  
That Parliaments, nor new, nor old, nor none  
Can well be trusted longer; for the State  
And Glory of the Crown, hate all Cheekmate.  
That Monarchy may from its Childhood grow  
To man's Estate; France has taught us how  
Monarchy's Divine; Divinity it shows,  
That he goes backward that not forward goes.  
Therefore go on, let other Kingdoms see  
Your Will's your Law, that's absolute Monarchy;  
A mixed hodg-podge will now no longer do,  
Caesar or nothing, You are brought unto:  
Strike then, Great Sir, before these Debates take wind,  
Remember that occasions bald behind.  
Our Game is sure in this, if wisely played,  
And sacred Votes to th'Vulgar not betrayed;  
But if the rumour should once get on wing.  
That we consult to make you abs'olute King.  
The Plebeians head, the Gentry, forsooth,  
They straight would short and have an aching Tooth;  
Lest they, I say, should your great Secrets scent,  
And you oppose in nulling Parliament.  
I think it safer, and a greater skill  
To obviate, than to o'er come an ill:  
For those that head the Herd are full as rude,  
When the humour takes, as th'following Multitude;  
Therefore be quick in your Resolves, and when  
resolved you have, Execute quicker then.  
Remember your great Father lost the Game  
By slow Proceedings, may'nt you do the same?  
An unexpected, unregarded blow  
Wounds more than ten made by an open Poe.  
delays do Dangers breed, the Sword is yours  
By Law declared, what need of other Powers?  
We may gigantic be judged, or worse,  
If we can't make the Sword command the Purse;  
No Art, or Courtship can the Rule so shape  
Without a Force, it must be done by Rape:  
And when 'tis done, to say you cannot help,  
Will satisfy enough the gentle Whelp.  
fanatics they'll to Providence impute  
Their Thraldom, and immediately grow mute;  
For they, poor pious Fools, think the Decree  
Of Heaven falls on them, though from Hell it be;  
And when their Reason is abas'd to it.  
They forthwith think't Religion to submit,  
And vainly glorying in a Passive shane,  
They'll put off man to wear the Christian name:  
Wherefore to lull'em, do their Hopes fulfil  
With Liberty, they're halter'd at your will;  
Give them but Conventicle-Room, and they  
Will let you steal the Englishman away,  
And heedless be, till you your Nets have spread,  
And pulled down Conventicles on their head.  
Militia therefore and Parliaments cashier,  
A formidable standing Army rear,  
They'll mount you up, and up you soon will be,  
They'll fear who never did love your Monarchy:  
And if they fear, no matter for their hate;  
To rule by Law becomes a sneaking State.  
Lay by all Fear, care not what People say,  
Regard to them will your Designs betray:  
When Bite they can't, what hurt can Barking do?  
And, Sir, in time we'll spoil their Barking too.  
Make Coffee-Clubs, talk of more humble things  
Than State Affairs, and Interest of Kings.  
Thus spake the Rigling Peer, when one more Grave,  
That had much less of Fool, but more of Knave,  
Began: Great Sir, it gives no small content,  
To hear such Zeal( for you) 'gainst Parliament;  
Wherefore, though I an Enemy no less  
To Parliaments than you yourselves profess;  
Yet I must also enter my protest  
'Gainst these rude rumbling Counsels indigest.  
And, Great Sir, tell you, 'tis an harder thing  
Than they suggest, to make you abs'lute King;  
Old Buildings to pull down, believe it true,  
More danger in it hath, than building New.  
And what shall prop your Superstructure till  
●… neither you have built that suits your Will?  
●… n Army shall, say they( content) but stay,  
●… rom whence shall this new Army have its pay?  
●… or easy gentle Government a while  
●… ust first appear this Kingdom to beguile,  
●… he Peoples minds, and mak● them cry up you,  
●… or rasing Old, and making better New.  
●… or Taxes with new Government, all will blame,  
And put the Kingdom soon into a flamme:  
For Tyranny has no such lovely look  
To catch men with, unless you hid the Hook;  
And no Bait hides it more than present Ease;  
●… ase but their Taxes, then do what you please.  
Wherefore, all wild debates laid by, from whence  
●… hall Money rise to bear this vast expense?  
●… or our first thoughts thus well resolved, we  
●… n other things much sooner shall agree;  
●… oin then with Mother Church, whose bosom stands  
Ope to receive us, stretching forth her Hands;  
Close but this Breach, and she will let you see  
Her Purse as open as her Arms, shall be.  
●… or sacred Sir by guess, I do not speak)  
Of poor she'll make you rich, and strong of weak.  
●… t home, abroad, no Money, no, nor Men,  
●… he'll let you lack, turn but to her again.  
●… he Scot could here no longer hold, but cried,  
De'l take the Pape, and all that's on his side;  
The Whore of Rome, that mickle man of Sin,  
Plague take the Mother, Bearns, and awe the Kin.  
What! racks my Saul! must we the Holy Rood  
Place in God's Kirk again? troth 'tis not good,  
〈…〉 defy the Loon, the De'l and awe his works,  
The Pape shall lig no mere in God's good Kirk.  
The Scot with Laughter checked, they all agreed,  
The Lord spake last should in his Speech proceed,  
Which thus he did; Great Sir, You know 'tis Season  
●… alts all the motions that we make with reason;  
●… nd now a season is afforded us,  
The best e'er came, and most propitious.  
●… esides the sum the Cath'licks will advance,  
You know the Offers we are made from France;  
●… nd to have Money and no Parliament,  
Must fully answer your designed intent.  
And thus without tumultuous noise, or huff  
Of Parliaments, you may have Money enough;  
Which, if neglected now, there's none knows when  
●… ike Opportunities may be had again,  
●… or all to extirpate, now combined be,  
●… oath Civil and Religious Liberty.  
Thus Money you'll have to exalt the Crown,  
Without stooping Majesty to Country Clown.  
The triple League, I know, will be objected,  
●… s if that ought by us to be respected;  
●… ut who to heretics, or rebel pay'th  
●… he Truth engaged to by solemn Faith,  
Debaucheth virtue, by those very things,  
The Church profaneth and debaseth Kings,  
As you yourself have admirably shown,  
By burning Solemn covenant, though your own;  
Faith, Justice, Truth, Plebeian Virtues be,  
Look well in them, but not in Majesty.  
For public Faith is but a public Thief,  
The greatest Cheat in Nature's vain Belief.  
The Second Lord, though checked, yet did not fear,  
Impatient grew and could no longer bear,  
But rose in heat, and that a little rude  
The Lord's voice interrupts, and for Audience sued:  
Great Majesty, authentic Authors say,  
When hand was lifted up, Craesus to slay,  
The Father's danger on th' Dumb Son did make  
Such deep impressions that he forthwith spake.  
Pardon, Great Sir, if I, in imitation,  
Seeing the Danger to your Land and Nation,  
Do my resolved on silence also break,  
Although I see the matter, I shall speak,  
Under such disadvantages will fall,  
That it, as well as I, exploded shall;  
But vainly do they boast they Royal are,  
That can't for Princes good reflections bear;  
Nor will I call Compurgators to prove,  
What honour to the Crown I've born, with Love,  
My Acts have spoken, and sufficient are,  
Above what ere Detractors did, or dare.  
Wherefore, Great Sir, 'tis Ignorance, or hate  
Dictates these Counsels, you to precipitate.  
Foy say't again I will, not eat my word,  
No Councils Power, no, nor yet the Sword  
Can Old Foundations alter, or make New:  
Let Time interpret, who hath spoken true.  
Those Country Gentry, with their Beef and Bacon,  
Will show how much you Courtiers are mistaken;  
For Parliaments are not of that cheap rate,  
That they will down without a broken Pate;  
And then I doubt you'll find those worthy Lords  
More Braves and Champions with their Tongue than Swords.  
Wherefore, Dread Sir, incline not Royal Ear  
To their Advice, but safer Counsels hear;  
Stay till these Lords have got a Crown to lose,  
And then consult with them which way they'll choose.  
Will you all hazard for their humours sake,  
Who nothing have to lose, nothing at stake,  
And at one Game your Royal Crown expose,  
To gratify the foolish Lusts of those,  
Who hardly have Subsistence how to live,  
But what your Crown and Grace to them does give?  
And one of those( Bag pudding) Gentlemen,  
( Except their Places) would buy nine or ten:  
Then, why, they should thus sl●ght the Gentleman,  
I see no reason, nor think how they can;  
For had no Gentleman done more than Lord,  
I'll boldly say't, you never had been restored.  
But why, of Armies now, Great Sir, must we  
( So fond just now) all on the sudden be?  
What faithful Guardians have they been to powers  
That have employed em, that you'd make 'em yours?  
Enough our Age, we need not seek the glory  
Of Armies Faith; in old, or doubtful Story▪  
Your Father 'gainst the Scots an Army reared,  
But soon, that Army more than Scot he feared:  
He was in hast to raise them, as we are,  
But to Disband them was far more his care;  
How Scottish Army after did betray  
His Trust, and Person both, I need not say.  
Rump Parliament an Army reared, and they  
The Parliament that raised them, did betray;  
The Lord Protector they set up one hour,  
The next pulled down the Protectorian power.  
Your Father's Block and Judges the same Troops  
Did guard, some Tongues at Death of both made hoops:  
And will you suffer Armies to beguile,  
And give your Crown and them to across and pile?  
What if as Mon● should both swear, lye and feign,  
Till he do's both your Trust and Army gain,  
And you believe his Oath, and Faith is true,  
But serves himself instead of serving you.  
Pardon, Great Sir, if Zeal transports my Tongue,  
T'express what your Greatness don't become.  
Expose I can't your Crown, and sacred Throat  
To the false Faith of a common Red-coat.  
Your Law your All do's fence secure from Fears;  
That kept, what trouble needs of Bandileers?  
Consider, Sir, 'tis Law that makes you King,  
The Sword another to the Crown may bring;  
For Force knows no distinction, longest Sword  
Makes Peasant Prince, lackey above his Lord.  
If that be all that we must have for Laws.  
Your Will inferior may be to Jack Straw's,  
If greater Force him follow; There's no Right  
Where Law is failing, and for Will Men fight.  
Best man is he alone whose Steel's most strong;  
Where no Law is, there's neither right nor wrong;  
That Fence broken down, and all in common laid,  
Subjects may Prince, and Prince may them invade.  
See, Greatest Sir, how these your Throne lay down,  
Instead of making great your Royal Crown,  
How they divest you of your Majesty;  
For Law destroyed, you are no more than we▪  
And very vain would be the Plea of Crown.  
When Statute-Laws, and Parliaments are down.  
This Peer proceeded on to show how vain  
An Holy League would be with Rome again,  
And what dishonour 'twould be to our Crowns,  
If unto France give cautionary Towns.  
He's interrupted, and bid speak no more,  
By's enraged Majesty, who deeply swore,  
His Tongue had so run over, that he'd take  
Such vengeance on him, and example make  
To after Ages▪ all which heard should fear,  
To speak what would displease the Royal Ear;  
And bid the Lord that spoken before, go on,  
And Silence all should keep till he had done;  
Who thus his Speech re'ssum'd. If Lord spake last,  
To interrupt me had not made such hast,  
I soon had done; For I was come, Great Sir,  
T' advice your sending Dutch ambassador;  
But much it does concern you whom to trust,  
With this Embassy: for none true, nor just,  
Wise, Stout, or Honourable, nor a Friend,  
Should you in any wise resolve to sand,  
Lest any unseen, or unlucky Chance  
should in this War befall to us, or France.  
We may that loathed wretch give to the hate  
Of th'Peoples fury, them to satiate.  
And when all's done, that can be done by man,  
Much must be left to chance, do what you can.  
And if you'll make all Christendom your Friend,  
And put to Dutch-Land-League an utter end;  
Then surely you may have of Men and Treasure  
Enough of both to execute your Pleasure.  
This Speech being ended, five or six agree,  
France shall be loved, and Holland hated be.  
All gone, I waked, and wondered what should mean  
All I had heard, methought 'twas more than Dream.  
And if Cabal thus serves us Englishmen,  
'Tis ten to one but I shall dream again.   

The History of Insipids, A LAMPOON. 1676.  

1.  
CHast, pious, prudent, C— the Second,  
The Miracle of thy Restauration,  
●… ay like to that of Quails be reckoned  
●… ain'd on the Israelitick Nation;  
●… he wished for Blessing from heaven sent,  
●… ecame their Curse and Punishment.   

2.  
●… he virtues in thee, C— inherent,  
●… lthough thy countenance be an odd piece,  
●… roves thee as true a Gods Vicegerent  
●… s e're was Harry with the Codpiece:  
●… or Chastity and pious Deeds,  
●… is Grandsire Harry, G— exceeds.   

3.  
●… ur Romish Bondage breaker Harry,  
●… spoused half a dozen Wives,  
— only one resolved to mary,  
●… odd other Mens he never—  
●… et hath he Sons and Daughters more,  
●… hang e're had Harry by threescore.   

4.  
●… ever was such a Faiths Defender,  
●… e like a politic Prince, and pious,  
●… ives liberty to Conscience render,  
●… nd doth to no Religion tie us.  
●… ewes, Christians, Turks, Papists, he'll please us,  
●… ith Moses, Mahomet, or J—   

5.  
〈…〉 all Affairs of Church or State,  
●… e very zealous is, and able,  
●… evout at Prayers, and sits up late  
●… t the Cabal and Council Table.  
●… is very Dog at Council-Board,  
●… ts grave and wise, as any Lord.   

6.  
●… et C— his Policy no Man flout,  
●… he wisest Kings have all some Folly,  
●… or let his Piety any doubt;  
— like a Sovereign wise and holy,  
●… ache young Men Judges of the Bench,  
●… nd B— some that love a Wench.   

7.  
●… is Fathers Foes he doth reward,  
●… reserving those that cut off's Head:  
●… ld Cavaliers the Crown's best Guard,  
●… e lets them starve for want of Bread.  
●… ever was any King endowed  
●… ith so much Grace and Gratitude.   

8.  
Blood, that wears Treason in his Face,  
Villain complete, in Parsons Gown,  
How much is he at Court in Grace  
For stealing Ormond, and the Crown?  
Since Loyalty do's no Man good,  
Let's steal the King and out-do Blood.   

9.  
A Parliament of Knaves and Sots,  
Members by Name, you must not mention,  
He keeps in Pay, and buys their Votes,  
Here with a Place, there with a Pension.  
When to give money he can't cologue 'em,  
He doth with Scorn prorogue, prorogue ' um.   

10.  
But they long since by too much giving,  
Undid, betrayed, and sold the Nation;  
Making their Memberships a Living,  
Better than e're was Sequestration.  
God give thee, C— a Resolution  
To damn the Knaves by Dissolution.   

11.  
famed is not grounded on Success,  
Though Victories were Caesars Glory;  
Lost Battels make not Pompey less,  
But left them styled great in Story.  
malicious Fate doth oft device  
To beat the Brave and fool the Wise.   

12.  
C— in the first Dutch War stood fair,  
To have been Sovereign of the Deep;  
When Opdam blew up in the Air,  
Had not his Highness gone to sleep.  
Our Fleet slack'd Sails, fearing his waking,  
The Dutch else had been in sad taking.   

13.  
The Bergen Business was well laid,  
Though we paid dear for that Design:  
Had we not three days parling stayed,  
The Dutch Fleet there, C— had been thine.  
Though the false Dane agreed to sell 'em,  
He cheated us, and saved Skellum.   

14.  
Had not C— sweetly choosed the States,  
By Bergen Baffle grown more wise.  
And made them Shit as small as rats,  
By their rich Smyrna Fleets surprise.  
Had haughty Holms but called in Spragg,  
Hands had been put into a Bag.   

15.  
Mists, Storms, short Victuals, adverse Winds,  
And once the Navies wise Division,  
Defeated C— his best Designs,  
Till he became his Foes Derision.  
But he had swing'd the Dutch at Chattam,  
Had he had Ships but to come at ' um.   

16.  
Our Blackheath Host without dispute,  
raised,( put on Board, why, no Man knows)  
Must C— have rendered absolute,  
Over his Subjects or his Foes.  
Has not the French King made us Fools,  
By taking Maestricht with our Tools?   

17.  
But C— what could thy Policy be,  
To run so many sad Disasters;  
To join thy Fleet with false D' Etrees,  
To make the French of Holland Masters?  
Was't Carewell, Brother James, or Teague,  
That made thee break the Triple League.   

18.  
Could Robin Vyner have foreseen  
The glorious Triumphs of his Master,  
The Wool-Church Statue Gold had been,  
Which now is made of Alabaster:  
But wise Men think had it been Wood,  
Twere for a Bankrupt K— too good.   

19.  
Those that the fabric well consider,  
Do of it diversely discourse;  
Some pass their Censure of the Rider,  
Others their judgement of the Horse:  
Most say the stead's a goodly thing,  
But all agree 'tis a Lewd K—   

20.  
By the Lord Mayor and his grave Coxcombs,  
Free-man of London C— is made;  
Then to Whitehall a Rich Gold Box comes,  
Which was bestowed on the French Jade.  
But wonder not it should be so, Sirs,  
When Monarchs rank themselves with Grocers.   

21.  
Cringe, scrape, no more, ye City fops,  
Leave off your Feasting and fine Speeches,  
Beat up your Drums, shut up your Shops,  
The Courtiers then will kiss your Breeches.  
armed, tell the Popish Duke that Rules,  
You're Free-born Subjects, not French Mules.   

22.  
New Upstarts, Pimps, Bastards, Whores,  
That Locust like devour the Land,  
By shutting up the Exchequer Doors,  
When thither our money was trapan'd,  
Have rendered C— his Restauration,  
But a small Blessing to the Nation.   

23.  
Then C— beware of thy Brother Y—  
Who to thy Government gives Law;  
If once we fall to the old Sport,  
You must again both to Breda:  
Where spite of all that would restore you,  
Grown wise by wrongs, we shall abhor you.   

24.  
If of all Christian Blood the Guilt  
Cry loud for Vengeance unto Heaven;  
That Sea by Treacherous Lewis spilled,  
Can never be by God forgiven.  
Worse Scourge unto his Subjects, Lord,  
Than Pestilence, Famine, Fire or Sword.   

25.  
That false rapacious Wolf of France,  
The Scourge of Europe, and its Curse,  
Who at his Subjects cry, does Dance,  
And study how to make them worse.  
To say such Kings, Lord, rule by thee,  
Were most prodigious Blasphemy.   

26.  
Such know no Law but their own Lust,  
Their Subjects Substance, and their Blood  
They count it Tribute, due and just,  
Still spent, and spilled, for Subjects good.  
If such Kings are by God appointed,  
The D— may be the L— Anointed.   

27.  
Such Kings cursed be the Power and Name,  
Let all the World henceforth abhor 'em;  
Monsters which Knaves Sacred proclaim,  
And then like Slaves fall down before ' um.  
What can there be in Kings Divine?  
The most are Wolves, Goats, Sheep, or Swine.   

28.  
Then farewell Sacred Majesty,  
Let's pull all Brutish Tyrants down;  
When Men are born, and still live free,  
Here every Head doth wear a Crown.  
Mankind like miserable frogs,  
Prove wretched, king'd by Storks and Loggs.    

STAFFORDS GHOST February 1680 / 1.  
IS this the heavenly Crown? Are these the Joys  
Which bellowing Priests did promise with such nois●…  
Charming my Fears with such lewd Words as these,  
A Saint, A Martyr, Bliss, Eternal Ease?  
Such promised Glories were for meaner Deeds.  
He's trebly blessed by whom our Monarch bleeds.  
cursed Priests did me with other Fools delude,  
bribed with their Gifts of the Beatitude.  
Had I that Life so unadvis'dly lost,  
'Tis not your fawning Jesuitish Host,  
Should e're prevail on my misguided sense,  
To smother Guilt with Vows of Innocence:  
Nor thou, false Friend, as false to me or more,  
Then all thy Oaths for Coleman's Life before;  
With thy true catholic protesting Br●ath,  
shouldst e're betray me to a perjured Death.  
Blinded with Zeal, what, did we once admire  
A sulphurous Soul, by Jesuits set on Fire;  
A Headstrong, Stupid, Rash bigoted P—  
declared the open Enemy to sense.  
Weak are the Sacred Ties that should attend  
The Name of sovereign, Brother, and of Friend;  
This Pious Samson would with Joy o'er throw  
The Universe, and perish by the Blow;  
His Plots, tho known, yet will he ne're give o'er,  
But still intrigues with his dear Babel Whore:  
So much infected by that Fatal Bitch,  
He's all broken out in Scabby Zeal and Itch.  
Could we distinctly view his Tainted Soul  
That All the relics of S— were small,  
compared with th' scars of his P— Spiritual;  
'Tis not the powerful Force of Jordan's Streams,  
Nor his dear Purgatorys cleansing Flames,  
Can e're remove from his polluted Soul,  
The least Remains of a Disease so foul:  
You'll say, 'tis hard that such a one as he  
Should be deprived of Naamans Remedy;  
But there's distinction to be made, I hope,  
'Twixt those that worship Rimmon and the Pope.  
Amends for my intended Crimes I make,  
If Charles from his lethargic Sleep I wake,  
But such a Dose of opiates they have given  
To Rouse him were a Miracle for Heaven;  
I hope, tho when he hears what I can tell,  
Success may Crown my Embassy from Hell.  
I'll boldly name those that pursue his Life,  
And 'mongst his Subjects fester endless Strife;  
Their Friends and their Advisers I'll reveal,  
Those Holy Men that touched with pious Zeal  
Are such Well-wishers to the Common Weal.  
Y— most beloved, and boldest Friend is he,  
Who knows he must Succeed by Gadbury;  
Yet some with wonder are surprised to find  
That in the Loyal Ague of his Mind,  
His hot Fit comes in such a proper time,  
Whose could one thought the Covenant no Crime.  
The next a Slave to his Ambitious Pride,  
Must be the chief, tho of the falling side.  
This hot-brained Machiavel once vainly striven,  
For what he ne're can hope, the Peoples Love.  
But foiled he flies for Refug● to the Throne,  
Trusting to th' Bladders of his Wit alone,  
Without one Honest Thought to fix them on.  
The Third a Wrack of the divided Chits,  
Better than Jilting Whore he Counterfeits;  
But not his treacherous Eyes dissolved in Tears,  
Nor the false Vizard his Ambition wears,  
Can blind the World, or hid what must be seen,  
His Practices with J— and Maz— n.  
Vote on, poor Fools! ye Commons vent your Spleen;  
Sure France and Y— are a sufficient Screen:  
A Tax at Home 's a Project Old and Dull.  
He'll find new ways to keep the Coffers Full;  
The French shall some of our fled Gold restore,  
They suck like Leeches, but they ruin more  
When they spew back part of th' infected Ore.  
'Tis his Contrivance too, by Change of Air,  
To ease our Monarch of his Fears and Care.  
They jointly toil to make thy Burden light,  
Knowing that Quiet is thy chief Delight,  
They therefore hast and hurry thee to fight.  
No Matter C— thy Enemies they'l fright,  
One Stamps, one Talks, one Weeps thy Foes to flight,  
I come( dread Lord) from the dark Shades below  
To give thee timely Notice of the Blow.  
Which thou mayst yet prevent; think well of those  
whom now( mistaken) you believe your Foes.  
They who against your Will would fix your Crown,  
Giving your Riches, Happiness, Renown:  
Which Metamorphose should accepted be,  
Because redeemed from Want and Infamy.  
( Observe poor Wanderer, how thou walkst alone,  
Might is the Atlas that supports thy Throne.)  
Hast to comply, defer it not too long,  
Thou canst not stem a Current that's so strong.  
Trust to th' Affections of thy Britains bold,  
Give them but leave thy Honour to uphold;  
Tho Bessus, yet a Caesar thou mayst be,  
oppressed with Trophies of their Victory.   

On the D— ss of P— th's PICTURE, Sept. 1682.  
WHo can on this Picture look,  
And not straight be Wonder strook,  
That such a peaking doudy Thing  
Should make a Beggar of a King?  
Three Happy Nations turn to Tears,  
And all their former Love to Fears;  
ruin the Great, and raise the Small,  
Yet will by turns betray 'em All.  
Lowly Born and meanly bread,  
Yet of this Nation is the Head:  
For half Whitehall make her their Court,  
Tho th' other half make her their Sport.  
Monmouth's Tamer, Jeffery's Advance,  
Foe to England, spy for France;  
False and Foolish, Proud and Bold,  
Ugly, as you see, and Old:  
In a word, her mighty Grace  
Is Whore in all things but her Face.   

A New Song OF THE TIMES, 1683.  

1.  
T'were folly for Ever  
The Whiggs to Endeavour  
Disowning their Plots, when all the World knows 'em  
Did they not fix  
On a Council of Six,  
Appointed to Govern tho no Body choose ' um.  
They that bore sway,  
Knew not one would Obey  
Did Trincalo make such a ridiculous pother;  
Monmouth's the head,  
To strike Monarchy dead,  
They choose themselves Vice-Roys all o'er one another.   

2.  
Was't not a damned thing  
For Russel and Hambden,  
To serve all the projects of Hot-headed Tony;  
But much more untoward  
To appoint my Lord H—  
Of his own Purse and Credit to raise Men and Money.  
That at Knightsbridge did hid  
Those brisk Boys unspy'd  
Who at Shaftsbury's Whistle were ready to follow;  
And when Aid he should bring,  
Like a true Brandford King,  
Was here with a Whoop and gone with a hollow.   

3.  
Algernoon Sidney,  
Of Common-Wealth Kidney,  
composed a damned libel( ay mary was it)  
Writ to occasion  
Ill Blood in the Nation,  
And therefore dispersed it all over his Closet:  
It was not the Writing  
Was proved or Indicting;  
Tho' he urged Statutes, what was it but fooling,  
Since a new Trust is  
placed in the Chief Justice,  
To damn Law and Reason too by Over-ruling.   

4.  
What if a traitor,  
In spite of the State Sir,  
●… hold cut his own Throat from one Ear to the other?  
Shall then a new freak  
Make Braddon and Speak  
●… o be more concerned than his Wife or his Brother?  
A razor all Bloody  
Thrown out of a study  
Is Evidence strong of his desperate guilt, Sir;  
So Godfrey, when dead,  
Full of horror and dread,  
Run his Sword thro' his Body up to the Hilt Sir.   

5.  
Who can think the case hard  
Of Sir Patience Ward,  
That loved his just Rights more than those of his Highness.  
Oh Disloyal Ears,  
As on Record appears,  
Not to hear when to do the Papists a kindness.  
An Old doting Citt,  
With his Elizabeth Wit,  
Against the French Mode for freedom to hope on  
His Ears that  told lies  
Were less dull than his Eyes,  
For both them were shut when all others were open.   

6.  
All Europe together  
Can't show such a Father  
So tenderly nice of his Sons Reputation,  
As our good King is  
To labour to bring his,  
By tricks to subscribe to a shamm Declaration.  
'Twas very good reason  
To pardon his Treason,  
To Obey( not his own, but) his Brothers Command, Sir;  
To merit whose grace,  
He must in the first place  
Confess he's dishonest under his hand Sir.   

7.  
Since Fate the Court blesses,  
With daily successses,  
And giving up Charters go round for a frolic,  
Whilst our D— Nero,  
The Churches blind Hero  
By Murder is planting his Faith apostolic,  
Our Modern Sages,  
More Wise than past Ages,  
Think ours to Establish by Popish Successors;  
Queen Bess never thought it,  
And Cecil forgot it,  
But 'tis lately found out by our prudent Addressors.    

Enter Olivers Porter, fiddler, and Poet In BEDLAM.  The Scene adorned with several of the Poets own Flowers. Porter. 
O Glory! Glory! who are these Appear?  
My Fellow-Servants, Poet, fiddler here?  
Old Hodge the Constant, Johnny the Sincere.  
Who sent you hither? and pray tell me why  
' An horrid-silence does Invade mine Eye?  
' While not one sound of Voice from you I spy  Johnny. 
I come to let thee know, the Time is now  
To turn and fawn, and slatter as we do,  
And follow that which does too fast pursue:  
Be wise, neglect your Interest now no more;  
Interest! the Prince we serve, God we adore.  
I for the Royal Martyr first declared;  
But, e're his head was off, I was prepared  
To own the Rump, and for that Cause did rhyme;  
But those kicked out, next Moment turned to him  
Who routed them: called him my Sovereign,  
And praised his opening of the Kingly Vein.  Hodge. 
I by my Low'ring Planets was accursed  
To be for barren Loyalty at first;  
But when to Nolls, our Charles's fate gave place,  
I could abjure the Unhappy Royal Race:  
To Noll I all my fingers skill did show,  
And charmed his Highness with my nimble Bow.  
Besides, I served him as a faithful spy,  
And did decoy the Cavalierish fry;  
Gold from his Bounteous Highness charmed my Eyes,  
My old Whore Balt Gl— ss could ne're suffice  
For the expense and Equipage of spies.  Johnny. 
Come join with us to make our Party strong,  
And you can never be in Bedlam long.  Hodge. 
Were you yet Madder you might serve the state,  
And be concerned in things of greatest weight.  Johnny. 
For( as the Turks their Santons) we adore  
The Fools and Madmen, and their aid implore:  
They're such who share my panegyric Verse.  Hodge. 
To such I writ, not to Philosophers.  Porter. 
Such frequent turns should you to Bedlam bring  
From Rump to cronwell, cronwell to the King;  
Then to your Idol Church, next to the Pope,  
Which may one day prefer you to the Rope:  
〈…〉 amongst Madmen am confined 'tis true,  
●… ut I have more solidity than you.  Johnny. 
A Windmill is not fickle; for we find  
●… hat it is always constant to the Wind:  
〈…〉 never change; I'm still to Interest true;  
●… he conqueror ever does my Muse subdue;  
●… odd with whatever Tossing she shall meet,  
●… e, like a Cat, shall light upon her feet.  Hodge. 
How long did I writ for the English Church,  
●… t now think sit to leave her in the lurch:  
●… ke Will-o'th'-Wispe th' inferior Clergy I  
●… d into Quagmires, where I let them lye;  
●… me into bogs and Ditches I have cast,  
●… here let them slounder what they will, they're fast:  
〈…〉 far Crape-Gown is plunged into the mire,  
〈…〉 is not possible it should retire.  Porter. 
My Spirit boils within my troubled Breast,  
●… ease Rogues are come to interrupt my rest,  Johnny. 
When the Exalted Whiggs were in their Pride  
I spent my oil and Labour on their side.  
Wrote a Whigg Play, and Shaftsbury out-ran;  
For all my Maxims were Republican;  
For the Excluding-Bill I did declare,  
libeled and railed, and did not Monarch spare:  
When they began to droop I faced about,  
And with my Pen I damned the Whiggish rout.  
Nay every turn before-hand I can find,  
As your sagacious Hog foresees the Wind.  Hodge. 
You nimbly turn to that which does prevail,  
No Seaman e're could sooner shift his Sail.  Johnny. 
Like a true Renegado still I maul  
The party I forsook with utmost gull.  Hodge. 
So I ere long shall damn the heretic Souls  
Of my old Comrade Coffee-Priests near Pauls.  
Spies upon all their Pulpits I maintain,  
And if of Rome, or Slavery they complain,  
Or for their own against our Church they Preach;  
I War as if they did Sedition Teach:  
I brand the Person with most venomous Lies  
If I want Truth, Invention still supplies.  Johnny. 
But a reserve I kept for Monmouth still  
Should he prevail, I with such equal skill  
With Satyr-mingled praise he could not take it Ill.  
And had that Prince Victorious been at Lime,  
I the Black-Box had justified in rhyme.  
I was prepared to praise or to abhor him,  
satire I had and panegyric for him.  [ Porter aside.] 
Oh seed of Locusts, the Infernal Lake!  
You'l cause my Anger and I'll make you quake.  Hodge. 
Long my sly pen served Rome, and I achieved  
Ample Rewards, whole shoals of Priests deceived.  
I wrought with such Imperceptible Tools,  
That I of heaps of Guineas gulled those Fools;  
The only Bubbles in the World they be,  
Who, to their cost, must feel before they see.  
In public yet the English Church I own,  
Tho' I am subtly Writing of it down;  
For yet it is not time I should declare  
Lest Fools, to whom I writ, should be ware.  Johnny. 
Men best themselves 'gainst open foes defend,  
But perish surely by a seeming Friend.  
One Son turned me, I turned the other two;  
But had not an Indulgence, Sir, like you;  
I felt my Purse insensibly consume  
Till I had openly declared for Rome.  Hodge. 
Now fellow Servant pray at length be wise,  
And follow our Example and Advice.  Porter. 
What! turn to Rome, who did our City burn?  
And would our Ancient Government o'return?  Hodge. 
Hold! Is not the Inscription blotted out?  Porter. 
Therefore who burnt the City none need doubt.  Johnny. 
It was Almighty Fire from heaven came down  
To punish the Rebellious stiff-neck'd Town;  
All which had perished in devouring flames  
Tho on the fire y●had emptied all the Thames:  
Had all its Waves been on the Houses tost,  
It had but basted them as they did roast;  
But Heaven a crystal Pyramid did take,  
Of that a broad Extinguisher did make  
In Firmamental Waters dipped above,  
To Hood the Flames which to their Quarry striven.  Porter. 
A Pyramid Extinguisher to Hood!  
Tis Nonsense never to be understood.  Hodge. 
What, you believe the Plot of Varlet oats?  Porter. 
Ten Proclamations and Four Senates Votes.  Johnny. 
That Godfreys Life was by the Papists sped?  Porter. 
Oh, No! He killed himself when he was dead.  Hodge. 
To Jesuits dying you will Credit give.  Porter. 
Yes! full as much as all the while they live.  
But dying Protestants I'll not believe,  
For they allow of neat Equivocation,  
And of flat Lies, with Mental Reservation.  Johnny. 
Hark Hodge: To gain him we in vain contend,  
Our Fellow Servant is a wag, dear Friend.  Hodge. 
I'll try him farther; for his Parts are such,  
To bring him o'er must needs avail us much,  
Who are for Rome and France 'gainst th' English and the Dutch.  
Come Fellow Servant, you belief our Plot  
Of Russel, Hamden, sidney, and what not?  
Of B— d, Walcot, Bow-steeple and the Rye.  Porter. 
For R— l would, but Hambden would not lye,  
Rumbald and Walcot too did both deny  
Ayloff to boot; but Cowards are not brave;  
For Fear's a Passion which all Cowards have:  
Yet to the Plot I firm belief afford,  
Of th' Evidence I credit not one word.  Johnny. 
Can you distrust what Gr— y and Escr—k say?  Porter. 
What! two such Excellent Moral Men as they!  Hodge. 
Others there are swore home as Men could do.  Porter. 
Who for their Lives must swear, swear home 'tis true.  
Against the Popish Crew none ever swore  
But a full Pardon he obtained before;  
These Swearers are like Cormorants, for they,  
On Whiggs with ropes about their gullets prey.  Johnny. 
What then? will you not be to Interest true?  
We both are of the same belief with you;  
But we know better what we have to do.  Porter aside. 
Did ever Hell sand such a brace of Knaves;  
Such abject Cowards, Mercenary Slaves!  Exit frowning. Johnny. 
His looks are wild, his fiery Eye-balls roll  
A Raging Tempest's labouring in his Soul.  
Let's prudently retire.  Porter Re-enters with a great Bible given him by nel Gwin. Porter. 
You sneaking Rogues  
would you be gone?  
Here's that shall knock both He knocks them dow● with the Bible, and stamps upon them, they get up.  
you and Popery down.  Hodge. 
Rash! Man for this I full revenge will take,  
And set our Evidence upon your back,  Johnny. 
Audacious Fool, how dare you tempt your sate●…  
Provoking me a Pillar of the State,  
Who with my Pen alone have turned the Scale.  
And made the Tories o'er the Whiggs prevail?  Hodge. 
Your Pen alone!—  
Can I this Arrogance endure to hear,  
would you usurp the Garland I should wear?  Johnny. 
You with your Forty Eight and Forty One,  
With Screws and Antipendiums plagued the Town;  
While even the Whiggs admired my lofty Verses,  
Your Witless Prose did Fodder forty Arses.  Hodge. 
I'll through your Arse touch Honour to t●… quic●…  
And find if you have any by this kick. Kicks the Poe●…  Johnny. 
Kick on, old Fool, till you your Toes shall ma●…  
I have had several, and can bear them all:  
Besides, I'm used to't.—  Porter. 
— Hence you Wretched Slaves,  
There is Contagion in such Fools and Knaves.  
I'll wring your Necks off if you ever more  
Presume to set your Feet within this door:  
I 'm Chief and have Dominion in this Place.  Johnny. 
I'll spend my gushing Blood upon thy Face  
And if thou darest effect thy dire Design  
With my two hands I'll sling my Head at thine.  Porter. 
Holloa St. Dennis have at you.  Johnny. 
Murder, Murder! He Kicks & beats the●… they run roaring out.  Hodge. 
Help, Help!  Porter. 
I on these Knaves shall never more compla●…  
They have called back my wandring sense again.  He pauses and seems come to himself. 
Of all Mankind happy alone are we,  
From all Ambition, from all Tumults free:  
No Plots nor vile Informers need we fear;  
No Plagues, nor Tortures for Religion here.  
Our Thoughts, nay even our Words are free,  
Not damned by Fines, or loss of Liberty;  
None here's impeached by a vile Table spy,  
Who with an Innuendo backs his lie;  
Words and Lampoons we laugh at, and ne're care  
What's said by Men, if Actions they forbear;  
Anger at Words is weakness understood,  
Since none can Ridicule ought that is good;  
Tis Womanish, and springs from Impotence,  
For no great Man at words e're took Offence.  
●… t Rome, in all her Glory, words were free;  
●… ast Governments can never Jealous be;  
●… ut when to Tyranny Rome did decline,  
●… eak Emperours with Delatores join  
●… o Plague the People, and themselves undo;  
●… or when they're feared they must be hated too.  
●… nd whom Men hate with Ruin they'll pursue.  
One Witness and a Circumstance for Facts  
●… s not enough; We must prove Overt-Acts.  
Our happy Government makes no Offence  
●… ut open and Rebellious Violence.  
Which we to quell no standing Army need,  
●… or can Dragoons upon Free quarter feed;  
●… ooted Apostles we have none, that come  
●… o knock and beat Men to the Church of Rome;  
●… hen its Butt-end prevails not, Torments will,  
●… or Lewis is not yet so merciful to kill.  
Here we divided from the troubled World,  
Rest and are into no Confusions hurled;  
●… or all our wants does our wise State provide  
Here every Vacant Place is still supplied  
With Persons that are duly qualified;  
No Favour Raises a Desertless Knave,  
Nor Infamy, nor yet th● Gold he gave.  
How would all Subjects envy us should we  
Publish the Secrets of our Hierarchy,   

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN Father Petres and the Devil.  Father Petres to the Devil. 
OH! are you come? 'tis more than time,  
Your Tardiness is no small Crime;  
All our Proceeding's at a Stand,  
They've got again the upper hand:  
Yet like true Jesuit I have wrought,  
My charge up to the height I sought;  
Both sense and Reason quiter o'erthrown,  
For those we deal with must have none.  The Devil's Answer. 
Is this a Conquest to relate,  
Worthy a Jesuitick Pate?  
I have more trouble with you had,  
Than all the Orders I have made;  
Besides, I joined in the design,  
One whose Fell Malice Equals mine,  
One so ambitiously inclined,  
Of such an uncontrolled mind;  
That let the gulf be ne're so deep,  
Or Piramid Prodigious steep:  
If in th' extremes thou canst disclose,  
Any that does their will oppose,  
( Though on just grounds) they meet their Fate,  
In violent and unbounded hate.  Father Petres. 
I did not call you to Discourse,  
We must do something now by force;  
Our whole Society is shammed,  
And we in our firs Founder damned:  
Did I though to 〈◇〉 Soul's Perdition,  
Act things more b●●●k than my Commission?  
Gaining belief amongst the Great,  
Who forced upon themselves the Cheat,  
While the Good man I kept at th' Oar,  
No galley slave e're laboured more,  
Nor durst I let him Pause upon't,  
Lest if he thought, he should recant:  
With puzzling Notions still possessed him,  
At once Tormented and Carress'd him,  
Hood-winck'd the Pilot, that should steer us,  
With our Infallible chimeras.  The Devil. 
Boast not as if you'd Conquest won,  
You've started much, but nothing done;  
Your Order whatsoe'er they come,  
Have set whole Kingdoms in a flamme,  
Nor Hell nor Rome can give you thanks,  
For acting thus a Mad-man's Pranks:  
Did I not always to you Preach,  
The English would you over reach?  
They'l be convinced ere they believe,  
Not pin their Faith upon your Sleeve:  
Your public chapels, have o'erthrown us,  
Our very Proselytes disown us,  
And face about to th' other side,  
Exclaiming 'gainst the Roman Pride.  Father Petres. 

What! do you now complain on me,  
For over acting villainy?  
I still consulted you in all,  
Did daily for your Conduct call;  
And though 'tis true I named the Saints,  
Yet 'twas to you I made my plaints;  
I own about the French we failed,  
But in the Irish we prevailed.  
Propose once more, and I'll obey't,  
It shall be done if you but say't.  
You know in such a Holy Juggle,  
My seared Conscience ner'e did Boggle;  
We must not Flag, not sit down here,  
That would declare Remorse or Fear,  
Which Jesuits do more decline,  
Then e're the Rechabites did Wine;  
But I have something to Impart,  
Which does oppress my tender Heart,  
And made me now invoke you hither,  
Though 'gainst your Principles, to gather  
The truth of these Important Queries,  
Most needful in this dubious Series.   

First, if it in your Power does lie,  
Tell me what death I'm doomed to Die,  
I dare not hope't must be in Bed,  
That suits not with the Life I've lead;  
But if I must be hanged and quartered,  
Let me be Cannoniz'd and martyred  
With holy Harcourt and his Fellows,  
Like them be Sainted at the Gallows.  
And next I do this Favour Crave,  
Since I have ever been your Slave,  
Unfold the mystic Book of Fate,  
And red me England's future State;  
Who next shall to the Throne Succeed,  
The English or Italian Breed.   

The Devil answering, laughed outright,  
would I these Secrets bring to Light,  
I should not half that Harvest gain,  
For which I've taken all this pain,  
Nor would I if I could reveal,  
That which my Interest bids Conceal;  
Yet I will Answer thee in Part,  
Since I've a Title in thy Heart.  
The first Peculiar is to thee,  
For which thou needest not trouble me,  
'Tis what thyself did Long foresee;  
Nor is it Reason to believe,  
Thou shouldst the Mobile deceive,  
But whether Martyr, or as traitor,  
Thy Ballad will be Truth's Relator.   

The Consequence o'th' other draw,  
By the success of Great Nassaw.   

This said, the Devil left the Father  
The Meaning of his Words to gather;  
And vanished from him down the Stairs,  
While he Proceeded in his Prayers.    

TO THE Brazen-Head,  
WHat Strepitantious Noise is it that sounds  
From Raised Banks, or from the Lower Grounds?  
From Hollow Caverns, Labyrinths from afar,  
threatening Confusions of a Dreadful War?  
What Dismal Cries of People in Despair,  
Fill the vast Region of the Troubled Air?  
The Tune of Horror, or of what's as strange,  
That strikes uneven like a World of Change,  
With such a Bold surprise attacks my Sense,  
Beyond the Power of Counsel or Defence?  
But tho' Blind Fortune rolls her turning Wheel  
With a perpetual Motion, who can feel  
This Surge of Fate, push't on with Fire and Steel?  
You precious Moments of Serener Days!  
When many Victories enlarged my Praise,  
And all things ran in a most easy Stream,  
Back unto me their Ocean and Supreme.  
Are you all vanished by the sudden Fright,  
And left m' encompassed with a Dismal Night?  
By my own Subjects in suspicion held,  
Murmurings as bad, as if they had rebelled?  
You all Con●rouling Powers of things above!  
Who easier Dictates guide the World by Love!  
Avert th' Impendent Miseries, and show  
Us Earthly Gods, to Govern here below.   

The Answer.  
'TIS well you've thought upon the chiefest Cause,  
Change nothing of Religion nor the Laws.  
Let the Great Monarch this good Motto wear,  
Not only in his Arms but every where.  
Integer Vitae, is my whole Defence,  
Scelerisque purus, a most strong Defence;  
Non eget Mauri, that no Forces need,  
Jaculis nec Arcu, which Contentions breed:  
Nec venenatis gravida Sagittis  
Pharetra, to make Loyal his own Cities.   

An EPITAPH.  
ALgernon Sidney fills this Tomb;  
An Atheist, by declaiming Rome:  
A Rebel bold, by striving still  
To keep the Laws above the Will;  
And hindering those would pull them down,  
To leave no limits to a Crown:  
Crimes damned by Church and Government,  
Oh! whither must his Soul be sent?  
Of Heaven it must needs despair,  
If that the Pope be Turnkey there;  
And Hell can never it entertain,  
For there is all Tyrannick Reign,  
And Purgatory's such a Pretence  
As never deceived a Man of sense:  
Where goes it then? Where't ought to go,  
Where Pope and Devil have nought to do.   

A Stanza put on Westminster-hall Gate.  
WHen Natures God for our Offences died,  
Amongst the Twelve, one Judas did reside;  
Here's Twelve Assembled for the Nations Peace,  
Amongst which Twelve, Eleven are Judases:  
One's true to's Trust, but all the rest accord,  
with Jews and Pagans to betray their Lord.  
What Madness? Slaves, what is't could ye provoke  
To stoop again unto the Romish yoke?  
May ye be cursed, and all your Hopes demolished,  
And Perish by those Laws ye have abolished.   

On Easter-day 87. this was found fixed on the King's chapel Door.  
WHen God Almighty had his Palace framed,  
That Glorious Shining Place he Heaven named;  
And when the first Rebellious Angels fell,  
He doomed them to a ce●●ain place, called Hell.  
Here's Heaven and Hell confirmed by Sacred Story,  
●… ut yet I never could red of Purgatory,  
That cleansing place which of late years is found,  
●… or sinning Souls to Flux in till they're sound,  
The Priest formed that for the good Roman Race,  
Our Maker never thought of such a place.  
Oh Rome! Wee'll own thee for a learned Wise Nation,  
To add a place wanting in Gods Creation.   

To the Prince of ORANGE, A packet of Advice, with the Pacquet-boat return'd.  Advice. 
THe Year of Wonder now is come,  
A Jubilee proclaim at Rome,  
The Church has Regnant made the Crown.  packet. 
No more of your admired year,  
No more your Jubilee's declare,  
All Trees that Blossom do not bear.  Adv. 
Orange, lay by your hope of Crowns,  
Give up to France your belgic Towns,  
And keep your Fleet out of the Downs.  Pacq. 
Wee'll wait for Crowns, not interest quit,  
Till Lewis take what he can get,  
And do not you prescribe our Fleet.  Adv. 
You boast you've Eighty Men of War,  
Well rigged, and manned, you say they are,  
Such News can't fail of Welcome here.  Pacq. 
Well may the sound of Eighty Sail,  
Make Englands greatest Courage fail,  
When half the number will prevail.  Adv. 
Now we have some upon our Stocks,  
And some are laid up in our Docks,  
When fitted out, will match your Cocks.  Pacq. 
Talk not as you would match our Cocks,  
But Launch your few Ships, on the Stocks,  
And if you can secure your Docks.  Adv. 
Besides, we have our Men called home,  
Which in your Fleet, and Army roam,  
But you, 'tis said, won't let 'em come.  Pacq. 
Your Subjects in our Camp and Fleet,  
Whom you with Proclamation greet,  
Will all obey when they think fit.  Adv. 
Soldiers and Seamen both we need,  
Old England's quiter out of the Breed,  
Feather and Scarf wont do the dead.  Pacq. 
Of Men of Arms never desp●ir,  
The civilized Wild-Irish are  
courageous, even to Massacre.  Adv. 
But if Victorious you'd be made,  
Like us in Hounslow Masquerade,  
Advance your Honour and your Trade.  Pacq. 
Then take this Council back again,  
Leave off to mimic in Campaign,  
And fight in earnest on the Main.  Adv. 
Buda we stormed, and took with ease,  
Pursue such Grandeur, on the Seas,  
And fight us so when e'er you please.  Pacq, 
Your taking Buda does declare,  
That you the Glorious Off-spring are,  
Of them who made all Europe fear.  Adv. 
Such Warlike Actions will at least,  
Inspire each Neighbouring Monarchs Breast,  
Till Lewis shall complete the rest.  Pacq. 
Such Camps, such sieges, and such Shows,  
Makes each small State your power oppose,  
And Lewis led you by the Nose.   

The Story of the Pot, and the Kettle: As it was  told by colonel T— s, the Night before he Kist the K—— s Hand.  
As down the Torrent of an angry Flood,  
An Earthen Pot, and a Brass Kettle flowed;  
The heavy Cauldron sinking, and distressed  
By its own weight, and the fierce Waves oppressed,  
Slily bespoke the Lighter Vessels aid,  
And to the Earthen Pitcher friendly said,  
' Come Brother, Why should we divided lose  
' The strength of Union, and ourselves expose  
'To the Insults of this poor paltry stream,  
' Which with United Forces we can stem:  
' Tho' different heretofore have been our parts,  
' The common Danger reconciles our Hearts,  
' Here lend me thy kind Arm to break this Flood.  
The Pitcher this new Friendship understood,  
And made this Answer. ' Tho wish for ease  
' And safety, this alliance does not please,  
' Such different Natures never will agree,  
' Your Constitution is too rough for me;  
' If by the Waves I against you am tost,  
' Or you to me, I equally am lost;  
' And fear more mischief from your hardened side,  
' Than from the shore the Billows, or the Tide,  
' I calmer Days, and Ebbing Waves attend,  
' Rather than Buoy you up, and serve your Friend,  
'To perish by the Rigour of my Friend.   

MORAL.  
Learn hence you Whigs, and act no more like Fools,  
Nor trust their Friendship, who would make you Tools,  
While empty Praises, and smooth Flatteries serve,  
Pay with feigned Thanks, what their feigned Smiles deserve,  
But let not this alliance further pass,  
For know that you are day, and they are Brass.   

On Romes Pardons, by the E. of R.  

( 1)  
IF Rome can pardon Sins, as Romans hold,  
And if those Pardons can be bought and sold,  
It were no sin to adore and Worship Gold.   

( 2)  
If they can purchase Pardons with a Sum,  
For sins they may commit in time to come,  
And for sins past; 'tis very well for Rome.   

( 3)  
At this rate they are happiest that have most,  
They'll purchase Heaven at their own proper cost;  
Alas the poor, all that are so are lost.   

( 4)  
Whence came this Knack, or when did it begin,  
What Author have they, or who brought it in:  
Did Christ e'er keep a Custom-house for sin.   

( 5)  
Some subtle Devil, without more ado,  
Did certainly this sly Invention brew,  
To guile them of their Souls and Money too.    

To the Tune of Lilli-burlero, &c.  

I.  
THe Pillars of Popery now are blown down,  
One Thousand Six Hundred Eighty and Eight.  
Which has frighted our Monarch away from his Crown,  
One Thousand Six Hundred Eighty and Eight.  
For mine Heer did appear, and they Scampered for fear,  
One thousand Six Hundred Eighty and Eight.  
For mine Heer did appear, and they Scampered for fear,  
One Thousand Six Hundred Eighty and Eight.   

II.  
That Mirror of Mothers and Wonder of Wives,  
One Thousand, &c.  
With her joy of three Titles are fled for their Lives,  
One Thousand, &c.   

III.  
George Jeffries who boasted his Face was of Brass,  
One Thousand, &c.  
Is now metamorphosed into a Welsh Ass,  
One Thousand, &c.   

IV.  
That Curse of Three Kingdoms, damned Peters is fled,  
One Thousand, &c.  
Who with Rome's Ignis Fatuus our Monarch mis-led,  
One Thousand, &c.   

V.  
Great Da— whose presence made Pregnant the Q—  
One Thousand, &c.  
Now She has withdrawn is no more to be seen,  
One Thousand, &c.   

VI.  
Old Mordant's good Service shall doubly be paid,  
One Thousand, &c.  
For his fetching the Q— now his Lordship is slaid,  
One Thousand, &c.   

VII.  
That Sink of Sedition the wise Observator,  
One Thousand, &c.  
Shall receive the just Merit that's due to a traitor,  
One Thousand, &c.   

VIII.  
Our Renegade Rhimer the cudgelled and licked,  
One Thousand, &c.  
For his hind and his Panther shall once more be kicked,  
One Thousand, &c.   

IX.  
Now Old Obadiah quits have Maria,  
One Thousand, &c.  
To Sing Lamentations worse than Jeremiah,  
One Thousand, &c.   

X.  
That wittol and worse who Commanded the Tower,  
One Thous●nd, &c.  
With that Shrimp of a soldier sweet Cecil did scour,  
One Thousand, &c.   

XI.  
All our Priests are gone back with our Jesuits and Monks,  
One Thousand, &c.  
And our nuns to their former Profession of Punks,  
One Thousand, &c.   

XII.  
Twou'd tyre your patience to number the rest,  
One Thousand, &c.  
You may guess by the Paw at the Bulk of the Beast,  
One Thousand, &c.    

Popery Pickled: Or, The Jesuits shoes made of Running Leather.  
To the Tune of, Would you be a Man of Favour.  

I.  
WOuld you have a new Play Acted,  
Would you see it just begun;  
Popery is run Distracted,  
And the Priests are all undone:  
Now you'll see their Beads and Crosses,  
All lie prostrate on the ground;  
They're marched off like Fools and Asses,  
Not one Sculker to be found.   

II.  
Would you see the great Ones slying,  
Leaving a Disbanded Court,  
There are Monks and friars crying;  
Whether now shall we resort:  
Now the Chapels quiter deserted,  
And forsaken like the Crown,  
Popery is now Convicted,  
There's no such thing to be found.   

III.  
Would you see the Priests recanting,  
Now they fear the English Law;  
You shall hear them all a Ranting,  
Lero, Lero, Bullen-a-la;  
Instead of Reading have Mary,  
In their Babylonian Gown:  
You will see the quiter contrary,  
Not a Mass-Book to be found.   

IV.  
Would you see the Nest a brooding,  
Which way they their Course shall steer;  
You shall hear them all concluding,  
Any where▪ but staying here;  
Jefferies was prepared for Sailing,  
In his long Tarpawling Gown;  
But his politics him failing,  
By his Bawling he was found.   

V.  
Would you see Tyrconnel sweeting,  
For fear of a final Rout;  
Now the Great Convention's Sitting,  
All will soon be brought about:  
He must then forsake his Palace,  
Just as Peters did his Gown;  
Like a Coward fly to Calice,  
Where he never may be found.   

VI.  
Would you have the Scene now changed,  
Stay but while this Act is done▪  
And see Father Peters Hanged,  
For procuring of a Son:  
See the Chancellor a pleading  
Where he Russel Guilty found;  
When he hears his Sentence Reading,  
A true Dreamer he'll be found.    

The Second Part of Lill-li burlero bullen a-la.  

BY Creist my dear Morish vat makes de sho ' shed,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
The Herittickes jeer us and mauke me Mad,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
Lero, Lero, Lero, Lero, Lilli burlero bullen a-la.  
Lero, Lero, Lero, Lero, Lilli burlero bullen a-la.   

Pox take me dear Tague but I am in a rage,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
Poo ' what Impidence is in dish Age?  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
Lero, Lero, &c.  
Lero, Lero, &c.   

Vat if Dush should come as dey hope,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
To up hang us for all de dispense of de Pope;  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
Lero, Lero, &c.  
Lero, Lero, &c.   

Dey shay dat Tyrconnel's a Friend to de Mash,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
For which hes a Trator, a Pimp and an Ass.  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
Lero, Lero, &c.  
Lero, Lero, &c.   

Ara ' Plague tauke me now I make a Swar,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
I'd to Shent Ty-burne will mauke a great Prayer;  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
Lero, Lero, &c.  
Lero, Lero, &c.   

O' I will pray to shan't Patrickes Frock,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
Or to Lorretto's Sacred smock;  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
Lero, Lero, &c.  
Lero, Lero, &c.   

Now a Pox tauke me, what dost dow think,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
De English Confusion to Popery drink,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
Lero, Lero, &c.  
Lero, Lero, &c.   

And by my should de Mash House pull down,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
While dey were Swearing de Mayor of de Town;  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
Lero, Lero, &c.  
Lero, Lero, &c.   

O' Fait and be, I'll mauke de Decree,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
And Swar by de Chancellor's Modesty;  
lil— li bulero bullen a-la.  
Lero, Lero, &c.  
Lero, Lero, &c.   

Dat I no longer in English will stay,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
For be goad dey will hang us out of de way,  
lil— li burlero bullen a-la.  
Lero, Lero, &c.  
Lero, Lero, &c.    

MONMOUTH'S Rem●●brance.  
To the Tune of, A Begging we will go.  

WHat think you of this Age, now  
Popery's in request,  
And He's the Loyall'st Subject  
That sleights the Laws the least?  
When a Torying they go, they go, they go,  
when a Torying they do go.   

What think you of a Whiggish Plot,  
And of their Evidence,  
When all the Laws can't Protect  
The Peoples Innocence?  
When a Swearing they do go, do go, do go,  
When a Swearing they do go.   

What think you of a General ( G.)  
That did Betray his Lord, ( M.)  
For which he does deserve to Swing  
In Catch his Hempen Cord?  
Such a Rogue you never did know, did know, did know,  
such a Rogue you never did know.   

What think you to be tried,  
Sir, by Proclamation Laws,  
And Zealously destroy a Prince, ( M.)  
To advance the Popish Cause?  
And so Mass to make us go, go, go,  
and to Mass to make us go.   

What think you of the Chancellor,  
Be sure he'll do the work;  
●… stablish a Religion,  
Although it were the Turk?  
And for Interest he'll do so, do so, do so,  
and for Interest he'll do so.   

In Lime-street we said Mass,  
To advance the Popish Cause,  
And set the Mayor to guard it,  
Against his Oath and Laws?  
To the Court you must bow low, bow low, bow low,  
to the Court you must bow low.   

What think you of proving  
A Popish Army aweful,  
And Bantring the Church with  
Arguments Unlawful?  
But a fiddling let him go, go, go,  
but a fiddling let him go.   

What would you give to be Sir,  
In Contrite Prance's place,  
●… en●enc'd to a Pillory for  
One small Mite of Grace?  
When Recanting he did go, did go, did go,  
when Recanting he did go.   

What think you of our Penal Laws,  
That made the Pope to Bow;  
●… f damned Rogues had not betrayed us,  
They had been as Penal now?  
But their Opinions was not so, not so, not so,  
their Opinions was not so.   

Yet fear we not that Buggering Dog,  
That sits in Porfrey Chair,  
●… hat swears he is Infallible,  
Cause he's St. Peter's Heir?  
●… is a lie we all do know, do know, do know,  
'tis a lie, we all do know.    

A New Song of the French King's Fear of an ORANGE.  

OF a Hectoring Bully  
Dear Muse, let us sing,  
( Or to speak one's mind fully)  
O'th' Most Christian King;  
Who subdues Men by Huffing,  
And Converts Men by Cuffing,  
Yet he fears if an Orange approaches too nigh,  
The gay Flower-de-luces will whither and die.   

He's Son to a Chast Queen,  
Tho'( if Authors don't lie,)  
The devout Mazarine  
Had a Finger i'th' pie,  
To mould a Church Hero  
More fierce than a Nero,  
Who yet fears if an Orange approaches too nigh,  
His gay Flower-de luces will whither and die.   

While he's scaring his Neighbours  
With swelling Bravadoes,  
We but laugh at his Vapours  
And Rhodamantadoes,  
Though Monsicur Le Dauphiu  
Does New Conquests begin,  
Yet they dread if an Orange approaches too nigh,  
The gay Flower-de-luces will whither and die.   

The Prodigious Advance  
That the Prince here has made,  
Makes an Earth-quake in France  
And great Lewis afraid;  
La Chaise his Address,  
And the Jesuits Finesse  
Can't hinder an Orange from approaching so nigh,  
That the gay Flower-de-luces will whither and die.   

If a Fury poetic  
Foreknows things to come,  
I may dare be prophetic,  
And foretell his just doom,  
Besides, old notre dame  
Has Predicted the same,  
That if once the brave Orange approaches too nigh,  
The gay Flower-de-luces will whither and die.   

The Second Part.  

'Tis a sport to our Prince  
To bridle up a King.  
Tho' the Beast kick and wince  
His firm Rider to fling,  
He'll make him Curvet,  
And so steadily sit,  
That an Orange once planted upon the French shore,  
The gay Flower-de-luces shall flourish no more.   

Help, help, some kind Saint,  
Holy Churches Two Sons;  
Help, thou Church Militant  
Of Converting Dragoons;  
Shall Lewis Victorious,  
Shall Lewis the Glorious  
See an Orange transplanted upon the French shore,  
And the gay Flower-de-luces now flourish no more?   

Good Caesar compound,  
Do but Trust me once more;  
If I'm Treacherous found,  
I'm a Son of a Whore;  
Let us En bonne foy  
Our joined Forces employ,  
To stave off an Orange quiter from the French shore,  
Lest the gay Flower-de-luces should flourish no more.   

'Tis a Cursed ill thing,  
Makes me rave and run mad;  
If I were not a King  
I'd myself fight I-gad;  
Besides, Riding will Pain-o  
My Bag-pipe in ano;  
Must an Orange be planted then on the French shore,  
And my gay Flower-de-luces now flourish no more?   

The wild Worm in my Tail  
My Vigour all drains,  
Through its winding canal  
I've voided my Brains;  
And these damned heretics  
Have fooled my politics,  
For an Orange once planted upon the French shore,  
May gay flower-de-luces will flourish no more.     

A Letter to the Lord Chancellor Exposing to him the Sentimen●… of the People, with some Pertinent Advice in the Conclusion  
My Lord,  

I'd praise your Lordship, but you've had your shire  
Of that before, if not too much by far,  
And now a nobler field for Curses are:  
Yet I'll not Curse, but leave you to the Crowd,  
Who never balk their rage, but speak aloud;  
In all the Lab'rŷnths of your Crimes, they'll tract ye,  
Worse than ten thousand Furies they'll attack ye.   

We talk not here of Penal Laws or Test,  
Nor how you King of Terrors in the West,  
With more than human Cruelty oppressed  
Those whose Shades now stab through your Anxious Breast:  
To these I leave you, each with brandished Dart,  
thoroughly revenge his Quarrel at your Heart.  
For me, I'll only let your Lordship see  
How they resent your changed Felicity.   

Now may you hear the People as they scour  
Along, not fear to Damn the Chancellor:  
The Women too, and all the tender Crew  
That used to pity all, now laugh at you.  
The very Boys, how do they grin and prate,  
And giggle at the Bills upon your Gate!  
Nay, rather than be frustrate of their hope,  
The Women will contribute for a Rope;  
And those fine Locks that no blessed Spark might touch,  
On this account catch may, they love my Lord so much  
Oh for Dispensing now! ah! now's the time!  
Your Eloquence will hardly blanche the Crime;  
And all the turnings of your Proteus-wit,  
With all your little tricks, won't help a bit;  
even that fine Tongue in which your Lordships trust is,  
Now wont, altho sometimes it baffled Justice:  
No Ignoramus Juries shall perplex ye,  
But with their Billa vera's now they'll vex ye.  
From their dire Claws no hiding hole you find,  
They speak their own now, not a Parties mind:  
Not now as heretofore, when on the Bench  
Flattery, and daubing had such Influence,  
And Jeffreys for a Gift would with the Laws dispense.  
But granting all our Laws be out of joint,  
Why yet they do not fear to gain the point:  
A High Commission may the Cause decide,  
Your Lordship by a Butcher may be tried,  
When by Commission he is dignified,  
His Power you must not doubt, if he be satisfied.  
〈…〉 this ben't Law;( though we've a President,)  
●… ou may appeal to the next Parliament:  
●… t these are such damned Sticklers for the Laws,  
●… hat it is five to one you lose the Cause.  
In troth, my Lord, the Case is very sad,  
●… ought to make a wiser Man stark mad.  
●… t I'll advice your Lordship what to do,  
●… is plain, that they their Madness will pursue.  
●… hey hope to see you soon advanced on high,  
●… ost sweetly dangling 'twixt the Earth and Sky;  
●… e reeking balsam from your Breeches dropping,  
●… d greedy Handkerchiefs the relic sopping;  
●… hilst on their Heads a crystal shower descends,  
●… nd all their Shoulders over itself extends.  
This 'tis they mean, 'tis this they would have done,  
●… t I would choose 'em e'ery Mothers Son,  
●… roth I'd even hang myself, 'tis quickly done.  
〈…〉 you've no Halter, never make a pother,  
●… ke but a Garter, one's as good as tother:  
●… r Lord! should such a Man as you submit  
●… o be the public laughter of each grinning Cit!  
●… se my Lord take a Razor, never fear,  
●… nd cut your Lordships Throat from Ear to Ear.  
●… is feasible enough, you know who did it,  
●… nd you are valiant, Sir, what need you dread it?  
●… t both the Jug'lar Veins tho' if you can,  
●… se they'll say Essex was the stouter Man,   
I am your Lordships, in any thing of this Nature  
●… rom the little House over against Tyburn, where the people are almost dead with expectation of you.   

Dangerfield's Ghost to Jeffreys.  

REvenge! Revenge! my injured Shade begins  
To haunt thy guilty Soul, and scourge thy sins:  
●… or since to me thou ow'st the heaviest score,  
●… hose living words tormented thee before,  
●… hen Dead, I'm come to plague thee yet once more.  
●… on't start away, nor think thy Brass to hid,  
●… ut see the dismal shape in which I died!  
●… y Body all deformed with putrid Gore,  
●… eeding my Soul away at every poor;  
●… sht faster on by Francis, less unkind;  
●… y Body swollen, and bloated as thy Mind.  
●… his dangling Eye-ball rolls about in vain,  
〈…〉 ever to find its proper seat again,  
●… he hollow Cell usurped by Blood and Brain:  
●… he trembling Jury's Verdict ought to be  
●… rder'd at once, by Francis, and by Thee.   

The Groans of Orphans, and the ponderous guilt  
●… f all the Blood that thou hast ever spilled;  
Thy Countreys Curse, the Rabbles spite, and all  
Those Wishes sent thee since thy long-wisht Fall;  
The Nobles just Revenge, so bravely bought,  
For all the Ills thy Insolence has wrought:  
May these and more their utmost force combine,  
join all their wrongs, and mix their Cries with mine.   

And see, if Terror has not struck thee blind;  
See here a long, a ghastly Train behind!  
Far, far, from utmost WEST they crowd away,  
And wandering o'er, fright back the sickly Day;  
Had the poor Wretches sinned as much as Thee,  
Thou shouldst not have forgot Humanity:  
Who e'er in Blood can so much pleasure take?  
Tho' an ill Judge would a good Hang-man make.  
Each hollows in thy Ears,— Prepare! Prepare  
For what thou must, yet what thou canst not bear!  
Each, at thy Heart a bloody Dagger aims,  
Upward to Gibbets point, downward to endless Flames.    

A Congratulatory Poem to His Royal Highness the Prince of ORANGE.  

unbosom( Great Sir) unto a Drooping Isle,  
Whose Peace a slavish Thraldom did beguile;  
Whose Native and just Properties infringed,  
Whose Fundamental Laws are quiter unhinged;  
Whose Rights in an unequal balance weighed,  
Whose fainting Church calls your assisting aid;  
Welcome thou grand supporter of her Cause;  
Welcome thou great Restorer of our Laws.  
Wise Heaven thought fit that you alone should be  
The Antidote against our Misery:  
That all our Wishes should in you be crowned,  
That you alone should heal our bleeding Wound.  
You are the Rock on whom we do rely,  
With you we'll swim, or sink, we'll live, or die:  
You gently rule us with your aweful Nod,  
You are our Standard, and almost our God.  
Both Church, and the declining State invite  
You the vast Center of their chief Delight;  
They beg that you their Darkness would expel,  
And make a Heaven of their present Hell.  
'Tis done! cheer up, the Rising Sun appears,  
His splendent Rays suck up our falling Tears;  
We'll hate the meager looks of Sorrow now,  
With Laurel Wreaths true Joy shall crown each Brow.   

Christ died a bitter Death upon the across  
That we might live, he wholly did engross  
All our Paternal sins, he bore them all,  
Which we Contracted have by Adam's Fall:  
He vanquishi Sin, and Satan overcame,  
And set Mankind on even ground again.   

So you, Great Prince! our boasting Foes subdue,  
And kerb the Pride of all the Popish Crew;  
With hazard of your Life our Chain you've broken,  
And bravely freed us from the hated Yoke:  
With vast expense you have our Freedom bought,  
And the Church out of the House of Bondage brought.   

Hence Jesuits, ye Instruments of Hell,  
That fill with easy Souls the Devil's Cell:  
To cheat and guile the Ignorant's your Trade,  
Ye're subtle Devils all in Masquerade:  
Wretches, be gone to some more willing Land,  
Tis Sacred, Hallowed ground whereon ye stand;  
And shall not basely be profaned twice  
By such a knotted trumpery of 'vice.  
Hence Popery, thou bane of all our Bliss,  
Thou treacherous Poys'ner of our Happiness:  
Unfetter'd now, and loosed from our Pain,  
We'll never reassume thy galling Chain,   

Now Peters die a Martyr for thy Church,  
And leave not Holy Mother in the lurch:  
graced with fine Hemp at the Gallows take a swing,  
And swiftly fly to Heaven in a string.  
But first Absolve your poor deluded King.   

What Change is this? under a strange disguise,  
The great Lord Wem's become George Jeffereys;  
His Fate is this, He'll dreaded Tyburn view,  
And so bid Arbitrary Law adieu,  
And make his long expected Dream prove true.   

Then Herbert, Wright, and Jenner steer their Course  
The same broad way as you( poor George) did yours:  
Then come the rest of the Fraternity,  
Sworn faithful Brothers in Iniquity;  
For when their Captain has his life resigned,  
They, Noble Souls, will scorn to lag behind.   

Repent ye base Betrayers of your Trust,  
Unto your knowing Consciences unjust:  
False to your Country, to your King untrue,  
Religion's but an empty Name with you.  
Hang now like Dogs, 'tis meet you should inherit  
The due, and full proportion of your Merit.   

Justice is done! I hear brave Orange come,  
And with Concern pronounce your fatal Doom.  
England rejoice, for now your only Care,  
Is but the burden of your Bliss to bear:  
Strip every Laurel, every Myrtle bow,  
For Wreaths to adorn and load his Sacred Brow;  
echo with cheerful shouts his glorious Name,  
The amazing Wonder, and discourse of famed:  
Ring Bells, a waxed Pope in fire destroy,  
And show all outward acts of inward joy.  
The Lambs do play, the Birds by instinct sing,  
As if it were at the approaching Spring;  
And every Creature makes a Melody;  
Do all things else rejoice, and shall not I?  
I'll be the first, and will in mighty Verse  
Your Noble Deeds and Glorious Acts rehearse.    

A Congratulatory Poem to Hi●… Royal Higness the Prince o●… Orange, or his Welcome to th●… City of London. Veni, Vidi, Vici.  
HAil mighty Prince! this Poem on you waits,  
As the first Offering that Celebrates  
Your welcome to the Town, almost destroyed  
By Priest-craft, and by you again revived;  
This Glorious Day( in which all Triumphs Live)  
To Heaven, and you, Great Sir, we only give.  
When Jove first made the World, he asked no more  
Of us, but taught us whom we should implore  
As then, so now 'tis our peculiar care,  
With Joyful thanks to gratify your ear,  
Who from the Dust has raised our Grov'ling State,  
Which hung upon the weakest Wheel of Fate  
An Act so high and past Mankinds believing  
That none but you could e'er think of retrieving  
Yet more, they who this Nation would inthral,  
Do fill your Triumph with their wretched Fall,  
But what does Heaven impart when they design  
To Act something that's Noble and Divine?  
prophetic Stars this happy time never knew,  
This Secret only lodged in Heaven, and you,  
And mighty Prince,( since Fate decrees it so)  
Our Lives unto your Generous Sword we owe,  
Not only, but Estates and Liberty,  
Which is the sum of all felicity.  
exhaled from sullen frowns our Kingdom's blessed,  
And in the umbrage of your Laurels rest,  
Whilst Joy like Lightning in Tempestuous Storms  
dazzles the World, and fills it with Alarms,  
Joy now to Loudest Triumph makes its way,  
And we no difference know 'tween Night and Day,  
Our Souls transported in strong Raptures move,  
And yet United are in artless Love,  
Joy now and Love so very well agree,  
As if this year was the first Jubilee,  
Of Care and Business we'll no more allow  
Since Deathless Laurels flourish on your brow,  
Go on brave Prince what ist you can't effect  
Whom Heaven with prosperous Stars does still protect,  
The fury of your Sword, let the French feel,  
That Kingdom is designed by you to recl;  
Pull down their Gaudy Pride which long hath stood,  
And their own Fields Manure with their own Blood,  
Come here's the princes Health, a Brimmer round,  
And all the Popish Interest confounded.   

To make a catholic Pudding.  
OF oats new thrasht at Tyburn take Two pound,  
Of Chios Wine enough the same to drowned;  
Of Malmsbury and Hobbs take Ounces eight,  
Of a Quacks Conscience add an equal Weight:  
Of Jury's finely packed take once Ounce more,  
Six Irish Witnesses just come ashore;  
Season it all with Atheistick Lies,  
'Twill make a Pudding that shall clear your Eyes.  
Here Antichrist may freely treat his own Guests,  
For the receipt is Learned Dr. C— sts.   

UPON THE Execrable murder Of the Right Honourable ARTHUR Earl of Essex.  

MOrtality would be too frail to hear,  
How ESSEX fell, and not dissolve with fear;  
Did not more generous Rage take off the Blow,  
And by his Blood the steps to Vengeance show.   

The tower was for the Tragedy designed,  
And to be slaughtered he is first confined:  
●… s fettered Victims to the Altar go.  
●… ut why must Noble ESSEX perish so?  
Why with such Fury dragged into his Tomb,  
●… urther'd by Slaves, and sacrificed to Rome?   

By Stealth they kill, and with a secret Stroke  
●… ence that Voice, which charmed when e're it spoken.  
●… he bleeding Orifice o're-flow'd the Ground,  
●… ore like some mighty D●luge than a Wound.  
●… hrough the large space his Blood and Vitals glide,  
●… d his whole Body might have past beside.  
●… he reeking Crimson swelled into a Flood,  
●… nd streamed a second time in Capel's Blood.  
●… is in his Son again to Death pursued,  
●… n Instance of the highest Ingratitude.  
They then malicious Stratagems employ,  
●… ith Life, his dear Honour to destroy;  
●… nd make his famed extinguish with his Breath,  
●… n Act beyond the Cruelties of Death.  
Here murder is in all its Shapes complete,  
As Lines, united in their Centre meet;  
formed by the blackest politics of Hell;  
Was Cain so div'lish when his Brother fell?   

He that contrives, or his own Fate desires,  
Wants Courage, and for fear of Death expires;  
But mighty ESSEX was in all things brave,  
Neither to Hope, nor to Despair, a Slave.  
He had a Soul too Innocent, and Great,  
To fear, or to anticipate his Fate:  
Yet their exalted Impudence and Guilt,  
Charge on himself the precious Blood they spilled.  
So were the Protestants some years ago,  
destroyed in Ireland without a Foe.  
By their own barbarous Hands the Mad-men die,  
And Massacre themselves, they know not why:  
Whilst the kind Irish howl to see the Go●e,  
And Pious catholics their Fate deplore.  
If you refuse to trust erroneous famed,  
Royal Mac-Ninny will confirm the same.   

We have lost more in injured Capel's Heir,  
Than the poor Bankrupt Age can e're repair.  
Nature indulged him so, that there we saw  
All the choice stroke her steady Hand could draw.  
He the Old English Glory did revive.  
In him we had Plantagenets alive.  
Grandeur and Fortune, and a vast Renown,  
Fit to support the Lustre of a Crown.  
All these in him were potently conjoined,  
But all was too ignoble for his Mind:  
Wisdom and virtue, properties Divine,  
Those, Godlike-ESSEX, were entirely thine.   

In this Great Name he's still preserved alive,  
And will to all succeeding Times survive.  
With just Progression, as the constant Sun  
Doth move, and through its bright ecliptic Run.  
For whilst his Dust does undistinguished lie,  
And his blessed Soul is soared above the Sky,  
famed shall below his partend Breath supply.    

A true and full Account of a late Conference between the wonderful Speaking Head and Father Pulton, as it was related by the Heads own Mouth to Dr. F— r, 1686.  

I That was once an humble log,  
The pissing Post for every Rogue;  
And did hope for nothing higher,  
Than to grace a christmas Fire,  
From th' Element escaped hard,  
By th' Favour of F— et Shepherd;  
Who, being a Friend to mathematics,  
does for Virtuos●'s lay Tricks;  
Did procure a Man of Art,  
That gave me Voice Articulate,  
Taught me Tongues the most difficile,  
To sing Sawney, Laugh and Whistle.  
followed now by Court and City,  
I confounded with my strange Di●ty,  
Both the Learned and the Witty:  
And make all the Talk at Betty,  
By the help of my Friend P— s.  
For you Wits were always good  
To the Family of Wood,  
And before kept such a puther  
With the Groaning Board my Brother,  
Some Men think you know our Mother.  
And I hope both you and they Sir,  
Will favour me sweet Dr. F— r,  
To help me out but with one Jest;  
Let me alone for all the rest;  
For my wondrous Voices sound,  
Is much admired by the Beau-Mond,  
Who to me pay more Devotion  
Than to pretty Punches Motion.  
Many a Lady bright and fine  
Lays her Cherry Lips to mine,  
And without offence I smack her  
Till I rub off all my Lacker;  
With that Sex I more prevail  
Than any Head that wants a Tail.  
The King to Court sent for my Timber  
As kind as if I had been a Member,  
And found me an obedient Head  
That did agree to all he said;  
Which being strange, pleased him so much,  
He wished that all the House were such;  
And 'twould much advance his Cause,  
If such Noddles could make Laws.  
This indeed 's a mighty Comfort,  
But, alas! I am paid home for't.  
busy Priests with their Disputing,  
Reasoning, Arguing, and Confuting,  
Who with Charms ecclesiastic,  
Can make good catholic of a Stick:  
Do torment and plague me, more  
Than without Ears I ever bore;  
May I be a log again,  
To avoid their Noisy Train.  
Pulton t' other Night did come,  
( If I lye, may I be Dumb,  
Or may a Plague I wish my Foes,  
Will R— s blow into my Nose,)  
And brought a Letter signed S. Petre,  
That he'd privately Confer with me.  
I at the Challenge did not flinch,  
But bid him sit down on my Bench;  
And since he had so good a Warrant,  
Blow in my Mouth, and tell his Errand.  
Says he, I Missionary come,  
Ad Partes Infidelit●n;  
For your Faith cannot be good,  
That springs from Shepherds and hard Wood:  
I to all Blockheads am the Legate,  
And gain some in spite of Gl●gat.  
They alone our Business must do,  
Who han't a grain of Sense to trust to.   

'Tis not my Province to Confute  
Those that think and can Dispute;  
And here we need not such expenses,  
Since our Notion suits our Senses.  
Nothing is so apt and fit  
For our doctrine, as your Wit,  
And he is most our Enemy.  
Who is most removed from thee.  
Oh! happy Off-spring of the M●ple,  
To praise thee enough I am not able.  
Oh! what comfort dost thou show Men  
In thy lucky Faces Omen?  
Times will come again, I see,  
When England shall adore a three;  
When Oracles old Poets shall utter,  
Wafers bleed, and Flints sweat Butter.  
If in Mother Church you stood,  
You'd do Wonders like the Rood;  
In her Sacred Bosom fostered,  
What might we hope from such a Costard;  
For you might convert the Nation,  
Since you speak by Inspiration.   

While he thus foamed with Holy Rage,  
B— y with pale Visage,  
To bring my late Conveyance home,  
Came by chance into the Room,  
And looked on him as well as me,  
Like Ghost of little Shaftsbury;  
The frighted Priest let fall the Matter,  
And headlong down the Stairs did clatter;  
Nor could sustain in any place  
The Terror of that hated Face.  
I in this Deliverance blessed,  
Got in my Chest, and went to rest.    

An Irish prophesy.  
THere was a prophesy lately found in a bog,  
That Ireland should be ruined by an Ass and a Dog  
This Prophecy's true, and now come to pass,  
For T— ts a Dog, and T— l● an Ass.   

The DEPONENTS.  

THE mighty Monarch of this British Isle,  
disturbed to hear his Subjects prate and smile,  
That he is so content to own a Son,  
For to inherit th' Imperial Throne,  
To please his Q— n, and put by both his own.  
But finding England not so Credulous,  
And Clear-ey'd O— ge more suspect than us,  
By Instigation of the Q. and P.  
He Summons all together as you see,  
And there declares his own Sufficiency.  
He says his Subjects Minds so poisoned are,  
They'l not believe God blessed him with an Heir;  
But to convince them they are in the wrong,  
In comes the Swearers, and Depose as long  
A Narrative as perjured O— es could do;  
What these Depose unquestionably's true,  
Our King says so, who dare say other now?   

There's Lords, Knights, Ladies, Squires, Quacks and all  
The Papal Locust that infect White-Hall;  
They Swear what King would have, to gain their Ends,  
Since he's a Prince that ne're forgets his Friends.  
But Witness Bishops, for your Loyalty  
He makes you great, he did bestow on ye,  
To keep you safe, his strongest Fort:  
While ye were there, the Tower was the Court.  
All fled from James to you for Blessing came;  
Imprisonment immortalised your Name;  
Bishops of Englands Church are Men of famed.  
And since his dire Designs in Law have failed,  
He seems to smile; You are to Council called.  
To hear the Worthy Loyal Swearers swear,  
That at the Birth of Wales's Prince they were.   

And first begins Old England's Barren Q.  
That at her Sisters Labour was not seen,  
Till all was past; yet for the Holy Cause,  
She'll do what e're she can to blind the Laws  
Of England, and doth there declare, and say,  
She hastened to the Q. that very Day,  
And never stirred till this great Prince was born,  
For th' Nations Glory, but he proves their Scorn;  
Except of these that on him daily wait,  
Whose Loyal Love is only to be great.   

Next comes Old P— is, who a Story feigns,  
Of Riff Raff stuff, to fill the Peoples Brains,  
Of what she saw, and knew about the thing;  
And in a modest Circumstance doth bring  
Of something, which into the World he brought,  
And by the Doctors gave him, as she thought.  
Now as a Governess she tends his Grace,  
And would not for all Heaven quit her place;  
So sweet a Babe, so fine a hopeful Lad.  
The forward'st Son the Father ever had.   

Then A— ns Countess with her Oath comes in  
That at the Princes Birth her self had been,  
And how she heard Complainings from the Q.  
Of little Pains, and then the Child was seen;  
But Oh! He did not cry; the Q. baul'd out  
For fear 'twas Dead, but Granny cleared the Doubt.  
And further Honour this great Lady had;  
She saw Smock spoiled with Milk,( the Sign was bad)   

And P— gh could not be beguiled,  
Knowing the Fathers Strength,( at thought she smiled)  
She saw Queens Smock, and swears she was with Child.   

While Pious S— nd to chapel went,  
On purpose to receive the Sacrament;  
Devotion was so great, she disobeyed  
Her Majesty, and said, When she had prayed  
She'd wait on Her; But hearing that the Prince  
Was hastening to the World, this, this pretence  
Soon brought our Saint-like Lady quick from thence;  
And from her bended Knees flew to the Q— n,  
And there saw all the sight was to be seen.  
The Bed was warmed, and into it she went,  
And asked the K. if for the Guests he'd sent,  
And lingering Pain she had, and seemed to fear  
'Twould not be Born, till all the Fools were there;  
But by her Midwife was assured, one Pain  
Would bring the Prince into the World amain.  
But Faithless Q— n! The Child did lie so high,  
She'd not believe but Judith  told a lye;  
And such an Honour to this Deponent granted,  
'Tis hardly more by th' Pope for to be Sainted.   

R— mon Swears she stood by S— land,  
Near the Q— ns Bed, just by the Midwifes Hand,  
And saw his Highness taken out of Bed,  
Fit for a Crown to Adorn his Princely Head.   

F— gull deposed, that in the Q— ns distress,  
She stood at the Beds-Feet, just by M— ss,  
And saw the Prince into the World did come,  
And by D—dy— dy carried from the Room.  
Then Painted B— lay early in the Morn,  
Came to St. James's to see his Highness born;  
With all the hast she could she up did rise,  
Soon dressed, she came by Nine a Clock precise,  
And found Her Majesty was in the Bed,  
And groaning dismally, she further said,  
cried to the Midwife, Do not the Child part?  
Old Granny craved her leave; With all her Heart,  
She granted what the beldame did desire,  
And certain 'tis there was no danger nigh her:  
Crying, Oh King! where are you fled?  
He said, I'm kneeling Madam, on your Bed.  
This plain Deponent bellows Bawdy forth,  
To be exposed both East, West, South and North,  
Without e're fear or shane; bars Modesty,  
For to out-face the World with such a lye.   

Then Pocky B— sis the next comes in,  
And says, She saw the Cast of Charles's Queen,  
And hearing that the Queen in Labour was,  
She hurr●ed in without a Call or Pass.  
With this Excuse( she knew she was forgot)  
Where she talks Bawdy, she Impudents, what not?  
Expose her self in Print to show her Love;  
Exalted by the King, and one above;  
She'll lye and Swear, Forswear, to prop the Cause,  
That baffles Englands sound and wholesome Laws.   

Then Lady W— grave, who was there before  
This Royal Babe was launched from the Shore,  
And heard her Majesty cry out full sore.   

Then C— ne and sottish Went—th say the same,  
With S— yer, Wald-ve; D— son, that they came  
And saw this Wonder which the World won't own,  
And blames their little Faith; to think this Son  
Is Spurious, and not in truth proceeding  
From Majesty, when they all saw him Bleeding;  
Nay, gave him of his Blood( squeezed from the String)  
That did the Royal Babe into the World bring.   

Then Br— lay, T— ni, and Nan C— ry too,  
Swear they saw all the Work that was to do,  
And more by half is sworn than they'l prove true.   

Then comes De— dy the great Nurse,  
Who with the Q— n is all in all in trust;  
And swears that Dan— rs, Maid to Princess and,  
Was joyed to see this little Royal Man,  
With former mark on Eye, which used to be  
On all Q. Mary's Royal Progeny;  
J— es seemed to doubt that which before he knew,  
And feared this Treacherous Nurse not  told him true;  
But he must peep and see the Royal Elf,  
And joyed as if he'd got him his own self.   

For Mrs. W— ks, who doubts but she would say,  
She brought the Prince that very day;  
And  told the K—g— g, the trembling Q— n did fear  
'Twould be hard Labour( tho no Child was there;)  
Explains most impudently those Concerns,  
That follow Women when they cast their Barns;  
And what cares she, the heretics she'l blind,  
And then we fear the K—g— g will prove most kind;  
To all those riches which swear to his mind.   

Then comes the Washer-woman Mrs. P— ce,  
Who says, that to the Q— n she's Laundress;  
And there declares a Story of hot linen,  
That used to come just from Child-bearing Women.   

Rich— nd and Li— d, and brave Ma— all,  
Tho not at Labour they believe it all;  
And fain would be believed, if these Tools  
By swearing falsely, could make us such Fools;  
They give such Demonstrations, that do lie  
As much aside as they do Modesty.   

Then comes great G— ge of England, Ch— lour,  
Who was, with Expedition called to th' Labour;  
The Q— n cried out as Women used to do,  
And he believes the P— ce is real too,  
But not so certain, nor 'tis feared so true  
As he wears Horns, that were by M— fort made,  
Them and his Noise makes all the Fools afraid;  
Tongue runs at random, and Horns bushes those  
That are so learned his Lordship to Oppose;  
He fears to act no wretched villainies,  
He dreads no Torments for inventing Lies,  
For he of heaven is sure when e're he dies.  
Thanks to the care of fond Indulgent Wife,  
To make Atonement for his wicked Life;  
Damns her own Soul, Whores with all she could,  
To alloy the impetious Salleys of her Blood.   

Lord P— dent comes next, that's now cashiered,  
For only speaking of the Truth 'tis feared;  
Yet he for to be great again at Court,  
Would be forsworn tho he is damned for't.   

Then A— deal of W— dour Privy Seal,  
Was so concerned that he Her Pains did feel;  
And 'tis believed this tender hearted Man,  
Did feel as much as Majesty did then;  
He shew'd indeed concerned to mighty W— m,  
Who knew too much to have concern for him;  
But satisfied the Fool it would be past,  
And wondered much her Pain so long did last.   

Then in comes my Lord All Pride with Modesty,  
And seems unwilling, to affirm a lye;  
With stately Gesture he did himself excuse,  
But setting Hand to Paper can't refuse.   

Then foolish C— n comes and doth depose,  
A mark he hath that he the Prince well knows;  
If't be his Lordships Mark he ne're must rule.  
For Europe knows that he's marked for a Fool.   

Then comes F— shame, that haughty Beàu,  
And tells a Tale of den and dat and how;  
Tho he's no more believed than all the rest,  
Only poor Man, he fain would do his best,  
And be rewarded as when come from West.   

Earl of M— ray, that Alexander Great,  
Believes it was the K—g— g that did the Feat;  
And that this Son is true and not a Cheat.  
Then M— ton and M— ford both explained  
The Business which they from the K—g— g had gained;  
As knowing Men his Majesty did trust,  
His Consorts Secrets, hoping they'd be just;  
To his endeared Son our mighty Prince,  
That as he thought would hid his Impotence;  
G— n too, with confidence pretends,  
It is true born, but 'tis for his own Ends.   

And F— x a Story tells of God knows what,  
To fool the Nation's, all he would be at;  
He keeps in Favour with his Princely Grace,  
He Fawns and Flatters for to keep his Place.   

Then famous Sea— urgh and Wi— ly,  
●… ith W— ve, B— dy, and A— nd do lie;  
●… d bring their Circumstances to convince  
〈…〉 be World that 'tis a real High Born Prince;  
●… hus they stick out at nothing that will do  
●… he Nation wrong, and bring to England woe.  
●… se Mercenary Slaves! for a Kings Smile  
●… old Spurious Issue rear, and us beguile;  
●… at fawn on him, and more observe a nod,  
●… hang fear the Vengeance of an angry God;  
●… d on the turn o'th' times would all fly back,  
●… odd let his Highness Interest go to wrack.   

Two Depositions more to Council sent,  
●… ham'd to appear to farther the intent  
〈…〉 Popish Principles, and Perjuries;  
●… e but the Devil could invent such lies.   

Then after this the King himself declares  
〈…〉 don't design with England to make Wars;  
●… t he such Aggravations hath of late,  
●… at he must needs be angry with the State;   

Specious Prologue, he concludes with all;  
●… t ah, the Protestants he vows shall fall▪  
Sacrifice to Rome, and His Revenge;  
●… en Souldiers fear not Fools, but scorn to Cringe;  
〈…〉 resolute and stout, and scorn to sell  
●… ur Souls to Rome, but sand the Pope to Hell.    

Father PETRE's Policy DISCOVERED: OR, THE Prince of WALES proved a Popish Perkin.  

●… N Rome there is a most fearful Rout;  
And what do you think it is about?  
●… cause the Birth of the Babe's come out.  
Sing Lulla by Babee, by, by, by.   

●… e Jesuits swear the Midwife  told Tales,  
●… d ruined his Highness the Prince of Wales;  
●… is a Jade for her Pains, Gutsplutter-anails.  
Sing Lulla, &c.   

●… he Popish Crew did all protest,  
●… hat Twenty Great Men would swear at least,  
●… hey see his welsh Highness creep out of His Nest.  
Sing Lulla, &c.   

The Goggle-Ey'd Monster in the Tower,  
He peeped at his Birth for above an Hour,  
And 'twas a true Prince of Wales he Swore.  
Sing Lulla, &c.   

Another great Lord, both Grave and Wise,  
Stood peeping between Her Majesties Thighs;  
He looked through a Glass for to save his Eyes.  
Sing Lulla, &c.   

Both were so well satisfied,  
They knew sweet Babe from a Thousand they cried;  
'Twas Born with the Print of a Tile on his side.  
Sing Lulla, &c.   

Some say 'tis a Prince of Wales by Right,  
And those that deny it 'tis out of spite;  
But God sand the Mother came honestly by't.  
Sing Lulla, &c.   

Some Priest, they say, crept nigh her Honour,  
And sprinkled some good Holy Water upon Her,  
Which made her conceive of what has undone Her.  
Sing Lulla, &c.   

The Papists thought themselves greatly blessed,  
Before the young Babe was brought to the Test;  
But now they call Petres a Fool of a Priest.  
Sing Lulla, &c.   

The Priests in order to fly to the Pope,  
Are got on Board on the Foreign Hope,  
For all that stay here will be sure of a Rope.  
Sing Lulla by Babee, by, by, by.    

THE Lord chancellors villainies Discovered. Or, His Rise and Fall in the Four last Years.  
Tune of Hey brave Popery, &c.  

1.  
GOod People I pray now atrend to my Muse,  
I'll sing of a Villain I cannot abuse,  
The Halter and Axe no such men will refuse;  
Sing hey brave Chancellor, oh fine Chancellor,  
delicate Chancellor, oh,   

2.  
'Tis he was the cause of the Nations dismay,  
He hath e're been a Knave from his Birth to this day,  
To see the sot hanged we will make Holiday.  
Sing hey brave chancellor, &c.   

3.  
And first I will show what he is in grain;  
I care not a pin for the Boobee's disdain,  
His Deeds now in brief unto you I'll proclaim.  
Sing hey, &c.   

4.  
He was the inventor of Oate's punishment,  
Front Newgate to Tyburn, and thither he sent,  
To have him well whipped he gave his consent.  
Sing hey, &c.   

5.  
The good Mr. Cornish did innocent die,  
And all by this chancellors cursed villainy;  
His Blood now from Heaven for Vengeance doth cry.  
Sing hey, &c.   

6.  
He was the first Author that opened his Jaw●  
To take off the Test and privilege Laws;  
The beheading of Russel, 'twas he was the cause.  
Sing hey, &c.   

7.  
Then next to the West he hurried with speed,  
To murder poor men, a very good dead,  
He made many honest mens hearts for to bleed.  
Sing hey, &c.   

8.  
The prisoners to pled to his Lordship did cry,  
But still did make answer, and thus did reply,  
We'll hang you up first, and then after we'll try.  
Sing hey, &c.   

9.  
Against their Petitions then he stopped his Ears,  
And still did create all their Doubts and their Fears,  
He left the poor Widows and Children in Tears.  
Sing hey, &c.   

10.  
He was the Inventur that first did promote  
That place called the Ecclesiastical Court,  
And thither he made the poor Clergy resort.  
Sing hey, &c.   

11.  
Of Magdalen-College he thought it most fit  
To turn out the Fellows, a very fine Trick,  
And place Father Walker, that cursed jesuit.  
Sing hey, &c.   

12.  
Then next to the Tower our Bishops he packed,  
And swore he had done a very good Act,  
But now shall be tried for the matter of Fact.  
Sing hey, &c.   

13.  
And when that the Bishops were brought to be tried,  
To accept a Petition they humbly desired;  
He swore he would prove it a Libel to be cried,  
Sing hey, &c.   

14.  
What can he say now the Parliament sits?  
Alas! they will Vote him quiter out of his Wits;  
They'l make him run mad, or fall into Fits.  
Sing hey, &c.   

15.  
In Wapping he thought for to make his Escape,  
A very good Jest, but I faith it won't take,  
His Head on the Bridge must be stuck on a Stake;  
Sing hey, &c.   

16.  
He many Seditious Lines hath penned,  
And sent them to P— his Honest Friend;  
My Muse she grows weary, and thus she doth end.  
With pox o' chancellor, villainous chancellor,  
Damnable chancellor, oh.    

Sir T. J's SPEECH TO HIS Wife and Children.  

I.  
DEar Wife, let me have a Fire made,  
I'll tell you such News will make you all glad,  
The like for another is scarce to be had.  
This it is to be Learned and Witty.   

II.  
First,( Butler, do you a Glass of Wine bring,)  
I'll tell you all the great Love of my King,  
Which is a dainty, curious fine thing.  
This it is, &c.   

III.  
A Wise Learned sergeant at Law I was made,  
And a dainty fine Coif was put on my Head,  
Which is heavier far than a hundred of led.  
This it is, &c.   

IV.  
But soon after this I was made the Recorder,  
To keep the wonderful Rabble in order,  
And wore a read Gown with long Sleeves and Border.  
This it is, &c.   

V.  
What Justice I did, my dear Wife, you can tell;  
●… ight or wrong, I spared none, like the devil in Hell;  
●… t, Guilty or not, I sent all to Bridewell.  
This it is, &c.   

VI.  
●… less it were those that greased my Fist,  
●… o them I gave Licence to cheat whom they list,  
●… or 'twas only those my Mittimus missed.)  
This it is, &c.   

VII.  
●… t then the King died, which caused a pother;  
●… o I went to condole with the new King, his Brother,  
●… with Sorrow in one Hand, and Grief in the other.  
This it is, &c.   

VIII.  
●… or an Ignorant Judge I was called by the King  
●… o the Chequer-Court, 'tis a wonderful thing,  
Of which in short time the whole Nation did ring.  
This it is, &c.   

IX.  
●… y Great James I was raised to the Common-Pleas Bench,  
〈…〉 Cause he saw I had exquisite politic Sense,  
●… which his Wisdom perceived in the Future Tense.  
This it is, &c.   

X.  
●… t Sarum Five hundred Pounds I have gotten,  
●… o save Malefactors from swinging in Cotton,  
●… or which they we hanged, and now almost rotten.  
This it is, &c.   

XI.  
●… t now, my dear Love comes the Cream of the Jest,  
●… or the King would take off the Oaths and the Test;  
●… hich I  told all his People would be for the best.  
This it is, &c.   

XII.  
He had my Opinion, That 'twas in his Power  
To destroy all the Laws in less time than an hour,  
●… or which I may chance to be sent to the Tower.  
This it is, &c.   

XIII.  
And now to Magdalen College I come,  
Where we turned out most, but kept in some,  
●… hat so a New College of Priests might have room.  
This it is, &c.   

XIV.  
And so by that means we left the Door ope,  
To turn out the Bishops and let in the Pope,  
●… or which we have justly deserved a Rope.  
This it is to be Learned and Witty.    

ON THE princes going to England, WITH AN ARMY, To Restore the Government.  
Hunc saltem everso Juvenem succurrere Saeclo  
Ne prohibete.—  Virg. george. Lib. 1. 
ONce more a FATHER and a SON falls out,  
The World involving in their high Dispute;  
Remotest India's Fate on theirs depends,  
And Europe, trembling, the Event attends.  
Their Motions ruling every other State,  
As on the Sun's the lesser Planets wait.  
Power warms the Father, Liberty the Son,  
A prise, well worth th' uncommon Venture run,  
Him a false Pride to Govern unrestrain'd,  
And by bad Means, bad Ends to be attained;  
All Bars of Property drives headlong through.  
Millions oppressing to enrich a few.  
Him Justice urges, and a Noble Aim  
To equal his Progenitors in famed,  
And make his Life as Glorious as his Name.  
For Law and Reasons Power he does engage,  
Against the Reign of Appetite and Rage.  
There all the Licence of unbounded Might;  
Here conscious Honour, and deep sense of Right,  
Immortal Enmity to Arms incite.  
Greatness the one, Glory the other Fires,  
This only can deserve what that desires.  
This strives for all that e're to men was dear,  
And he for what they most abhor and fear.  
Caesar and Pompey's Cause by Cato thought  
So ill adjudged, to a new Tryal's brought,  
Again at last Pharsalia must be fought.  
Ye fatal Sisters! now to Right be Friends,  
And make Mankind for Pompey's Fate amends.  
In Orange's Great Line, 'tis no new thing,  
To Free a Nation, and Uncrown a King.  
FINIS.