THE Saint turned Courtesan: OR, A New PLOT discovered by a precious Zealot, of an Assault and Battery designed upon the Body of a Sanctify'd Sister, etc.  

Who in her Husband's absence, with a Brother  
Did often use to comfort one another;  
Till wide-mouthed Crop, who is an old Italian,  
Took his Mare napping, and surprised her Stallion:  
Who 'stead of Entertainment from his Mistress,  
Did meet a Cudgelling not matched in Hist'ries.   
To the Tune of the Quakers Ballad: or, All in the Land of Essex.  


ALL in the Zealous City,  
Near the Exchange so Royal,  
In dead of Night  
Appeared such a Spirit,  
Would make a Saint disloyal.  
Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,  
Each pious Covenanter,  
Now alas what hope  
Of converting the Pope,  
When a Sister turns a Ranter?   

A precious Goose-quill Brother,  
Joined with a Holy Sister,  
In place of Mate  
To propagate  
The Holy Seed, he kissed her.  
Help, etc.   

About the time of Midnight,  
When th'Saints are Caterwauling,  
The Youngster came  
To cherish the Dame,  
While the Cuckold was a stroleing.  
Help, etc.   

For while her Factious Gaol-bird,  
That Type of Reformation,  
Lay close by the heels,  
The slippery Eels  
Lay in close Copulation.  
Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,  
Each pious Covenanter.  
What hopes have we got  
To defeat the Sham-Plot,  
If a Sister turns a Ranter?   

But as the Devil would have it,  
The Devil of Lust and Malice,  
That night he broke Gaol,  
And boggled her Tail;  
She wished him at the Gallows.  
Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,  
Each zealous Covenanter,  
What hopes have we got  
To defeat the Sham-Plot,  
If a Sister turns a Ranter?   

For at the usual hour,  
In comes the Clerk o'th' Quorum,  
Where to spoil the Plot,  
The Devil had got  
Possession long before him.  
Help, etc.   

My fairest Helen open,  
Here's thy own loving Paris▪  
Get away from my door,  
You Son of a whore,  
For here's th'old Cuckold Harris.  
Help, etc.   

Then damn the Factious Lubber,  
To spoil our Recreation:  
Quoth Harris, what's there?  
'Tis nothing, my Dear,  
But the Spirit of Revelation.  
Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,  
Each zealous Covenanter,  
Who would credit Ben. Took,  
Tho' he swore on a Book,  
That a Saint should turn a Ranter?    

The Second Part.  

Old Ben who much suspected  
'Twas more than a bare Vision,  
Began for to peep,  
And slept Dogsleep,  
Till he found the Apparition.  
Help, etc.   

The Covenanting Brother,  
According to Indenture,  
With Ink in Pen  
Came there again  
Next Night, but could not enter.  
Help, etc.   

He knocked beneath the window,  
What can you sleep so sound?  
Open, my Dear:  
Quoth Ben, are you there?  
I'll handle you profoundly.  
Help, etc.   

In Gown of Wife, and Slippers,  
While she lay in a slumber,  
Perplexed with cares,  
He crept down Stairs,  
Armed with good Cudgel Lumber.  
Help, etc.   

Who's there? quoth watchful Argus:  
'Tis I in longing passion,  
Give me a kiss:  
Quoth Ben, take this,  
A Dryden's Salutation.  
Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,  
Each zealous Covenanter,  
What wonder the Atheist  
L' _____ should turn Papist,  
When a Zealot turns a Ranter?   

What means this strangeness, Madam?  
I mean to cool your Courage:  
Take this, you Rogue,  
I'll send you, Dog,  
To hunt for other Forage.  
Help, etc.   

The Wife scared in the Buzzle,  
My Dear, what is the matter?  
You're a Whore, quoth he,  
You are, quoth she,  
A Villain and a Traitor.  
Help, etc.   

I'll have thee scourged by Baxter,  
Quoth he, at the next Lecture,  
For prostrating  
To any thing  
Beneath a Lord Protector.  
Help, etc.   

Quoth she, I'll have thee Quartered,  
Thou Scribbling Factious Felon,  
For publishing  
Against the King  
Sedition and Rebellion.  
Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,  
All pions Covenanters,  
What hopes have we got  
To defeat the Sham-Plot,  
When a Sister turns a Ranter?   

Have I, quoth he, escaped  
The Pillory and Committal,  
The Gallows and  
The Laws o'th' Land,  
To be proclaimed a Wittol?  
Help, etc.   

What will the Bloody Plotters  
Say of a Holy Brother,  
When we ourselves  
Lay Traps and Shelves  
To Counterplot each other?  
Help, etc.   

But now for an Expedient,  
Lest they should us bespatter,  
We'll say the Spark's  
A Popish Shark,  
And that will salve the matter.  
Help, etc.   

We'll say he was a Papist  
L' _____ had sent to Fire us;  
So thou art clear,  
My dearest Dear,  
And the Saints will still admire us.  
Help Care, Vile, Smith, and Curtis,  
And each true Covenanter,  
What hopes have we got  
To defeat the Sham-Plot,  
If a Sister turns a Ranter?    
FINIS.   

Printed for the use of the Protestant-Cobler in Pell-Mell.