SCANDAL PROOF, OR An heroic Poem On the Renowned Champions of the Good Old CAUSE Impudent Dick Janeway, and the rest of the Factious 〈◇〉  

COme on ye scribbling Rebels of the Age,  
Come on I say, advance upon the Stage;  
armed with fanatic Malice Zeal and Rage.  
Display your Merits to the public View,  
Tell 'em 'tis You're their Champion, none but You  
Dare Counter-Plot the Popish Plotting Crew,  
Faith 'twas great pity there was not a trial  
Between that pack of Priests, who did deny all,  
And You fanatic scribblers who Belly-all:  
I mean that Zealous Sanctified Gang,  
Comus, and hall- Old Elephant, and long-  
Is( who precious Saints) no doubt in time may Hang.  
And make as Fine a Show, as Whitebread did  
With th' other Precious four, whose Souls are fled  
Into an other World; yet 'twas unkind  
To leave such Holy Brethren thus behind,  
Without Directions, where their Friends to find.  
Alas poor Harmless Devils, what a Pother  
They make to Troop so hasty after th'other:  
Who died great Rogues, yet ne'er denied their Trade,  
As you do, who their mystery Invade,  
Proving yourselves Jesuits in Masquerade.  
I Laugh to see how you'd the World deceive,  
If they would all your Lying Tricks believe;  
As how you're th' only Men, that stand i'th' Gap,  
There to repel th' approaching Thunder-Clap  
Of Popery, which Threatens all the Nation,  
With no less than a Total Inundation;  
Unless prevented by your Reformation.  
This is a precious hopeful Age, no doubt,  
When such an Impious, Daring Rebel Rout;  
Such Wretched Tools as You shall undertake  
A Reformation in the Church and State.  
Yet 'tis but what we must expect from You,  
Who in plain Terms,( to give the Devil his due)  
Pretend to Love the King, but hate him too.  
Among the rest of this fanatic Knot  
Of Factious Whigs, Faith I had quiter forgot;  
To mention that Egregious Rascal Dick,  
That Wondrous Lying Son of damned Old neck:  
Impartial Rakehell whose Romantick Skill  
excels the other Lying Knights o'th' Quill:  
So like a Janus, does Dick Janeway look,  
We see his Double Face in every Book;  
In which wee're Weekly plagued with's Impudence,  
Offensive to all Loyal men of Sense,  
Who hate both Dick, and's damned Impertinence.  
Well then, go on thou Cursed Rogue in Grain,  
Proceed to writ in thy own Lying Strain.  
'Tis Meritorious; thou deserv'st Applause,  
By Propping up the Sinking damned Old Cause,  
Which not prevented, ruins the King and Laws:  
Go tell the th' awakened World,( but 'tis in vain)  
You Love( alas you lie) Great Charles his reign:  
How canst thou Love the King, or can your Brood  
Of Whigs, when Treason Taints your Soul and Blood,  
Ye damned Antipodes to all that's good.  
But Thou amongst the rest art such a Fool,  
Poor Silly Rogue! They use thee for a Fool:  
A certain necessary Implement,  
To Print and own the lies that they Invent;  
A Foppish Brazen Fool, that's lead Astray  
By every Cunning Whig that shows the way:  
With what Officious Care thou Plagu'st thy Brains,  
To get the Name of Villain for thy pains;  
Like that Inglorious Rogue that set on flamme  
Diana's Temple; which to the Villains shane  
He only did, to gain a Cursed famed:  
Such is thy Cursed Care, thou damned Fop,  
Whose Pate more fit for Scullens Broom, or Mop;  
Merits the Glorious Name of busy Sot,  
And( Calves-Head-like) deserves to go to Pot.  
Thou Dull Insipid Coxcomb, worse then Beast,  
What Guts and Carbidge hath thy Brains possessed;  
To make thy scribbling Whelpship so Uncivil,  
So unlike man, and so much like the Devil:  
Sure thou'rt the Spawn of some Ill natured Gipsy,  
Got in a Barn, perhaps where each was Tipsy;  
hatched up with th' noise of Tory, Rory, Randy,  
The pure effects of Ale, and Beer, and Brandy;  
And ever since thou'st been the Devils Imp,  
Dissenters Bully, and fanatics Pimp:  
A perfect Staulking Horse unto all those,  
That Hate the King, and Love the Kingdoms Foes:  
A Drudging Journy-man, a Slave to th' Pope,  
Next Heir in Law to the Heer Van catch his Rope;  
One whom the Devil, for his Excellent Work  
Is more beholding to, then Pope or Turk.  
Mayst thou at length receive thy Merits Due,  
As Ample as the Popish Plotting Crew;  
So Janeway, fare thee well, until I see  
Thy Rogueship made St. Dick at Tyburn three.    

London, Printed for Don Pedro Valesco, Tasco Rasco Rero, Don John of Austria's Cozens, Uuncles, Sisters Son, being his own Nephew, MDCLXXXI.