A Choice Collection OF 120 Loyal Songs, All of them written since the Two late PLOTS, (VIZ.) The Horrid Salamanca Plot in 1678. AND THE Fanatical Conspiracy in 1683.  
Intermixed with some New Love SONGS With a Table to find every Song To which is added, An Anagram, and an Accrostick ON THE Salamanca DOCTOR.  
LONDON, Printed by N. T. at the entrance into the Old Spring Garden near Charing Cross. 1684.   

To the Reader.  
AMongst the several means that have been of late years to reduce the deluded Multitude to their just Allegiance, this of BALLADS and LOYAL SONGS has not been of the least influence. While the Fergusons', and Heads of the Factions were blowing up Sedition in every corner of the Country, these flying Choristers were asserting the Rights of Monarchy, and proclaiming Loyalty in every street. The misinformed Rabble began to listen; they began to hear to Truth in a SONG, in time found their Errors, and were charmed into Obedience. Those that despise the Reverend Prelate in the Pulpit, and the Grave Judge on the Bench; that will neither submit to the Laws of God or Man, will yet lend an itching Ear to a New SONG, nay, and often become a Convert by It, when all other means prove ineffectual. Divine Herbert has it excellently expressed, where he says, 
A Verse may find him who a Sermon flies,  
And turn Delight into a Sacrifice.  It cannot be imagined how many scattered Flocks this melodious Tingling hath reduced to their Princely Hives, who otherwise had never been brought under the Discipline of Obedience or Government.  
And, without ostentation, I may say, I printed my News-Papers (that always▪ vindicated the King and Government) to undeceive the People, who were daily imposed upon by Curtis, Smith, Harris, Care, Vile, Baldwin, Janeway, etc. when no body else would or durst. For This the malice of the Factious Party swelled so high against me, that They, with the assistance of a certain Instrument, (who swore through two Brick-walls before Oats appeared) caused me to be imprisoned six times, so that for near five years I was never free from Trouble, having seldom less than 3, or 4 Indictments at a Sessions against Me; at other time's Information upon Information in the Crown-Office, which villainous contrivances of their Agents, cost Me at last 500 l. in Money, besides the loss of My Trade and Reputation; The principal Crimes they alleged against Me, were, Let Oliver now be forgotten▪ a Song; A Hue and Cry after T. O. when turned from White-Hall; The Character of an Ignoramus Doctor; A Dialogue between the Devil and the Doctor; The Prisoner's Lamentation for the loss of Sheriff Bethel; And at last for Oates' Manifesto▪ All which Phamphlets tended to no other evil than the laying open the Villainies of Oats and the rest of his Perjured Disciples: But (thanks be to God) Tempora mutantur, etc. and Truth daily shines more & more.  
These Collections (being of so much use to detect the Scandalous Lies and Falsehoods of the Factious, and to keep the strong-headed Beast within the Reins of Obedience) I thought fit to publish, that the World may see I have not been idle in the worst of times, but have done my endeavour (to the utmost of my Talon) for the Interest of the KING and Government; which, That they may flourish in spite of all his Adversaries, ●s the hearty prayer of  
Your most Humble Servant, N. T.   

A Table of all the new Songs contained in this Book.  

LEt Oliver now be forgotten. Page 1.  
Now, now, the Tories all shall stoop 3.  
Let us advance the Good Old Cause. 6.  
Now, now, the Zealots all must droop. 8.  
Now at last the Riddle is expounded. 10.  
Since Reformation with Whigs in fashion▪ 13.  
Rouse up great Genius of this potent Land. 16.  
Since Plotting's a Trade. 19  
Bread a Geud I think the Nation's mad. 22.  
From over the Seas not long since there came. 26.  
Hail to the Knight of the Post. 28.  
Once on a time the Doctor did Swear. 31.  
What still ye Whigs uneasy. 33.  
Listen a while and I'll tell you a Tale. 36.  
Did you not hear of a Peer that was Tried. 39  
Tony was small but of Noble Race. 42.  
Old Jemmy is a Lad, etc. 44.  
The Commons now are at a stand. 47.  
Now the Tories that Glories. 48.  
Rouse up the Tories of this Factious Land. 51.  
Room, Room for Cavaliers, etc. 53.  
Have you not lately heard, etc. 56.  
Good people of England I hope you have had 59  
Come now let's rejoice, and the City Bells Ring. 63.  
Now at l●st the matter is decided. 65.  
Fill up the Bowl and set it round, etc. 67.  
Let the Whigs repine, and Tories smile. 70.  
Rouse up Great Monarch in the Royal Cause. 73.  
You Freemen and Masters and Prentices mourn 76.  
The Delights of the Bottle are turned out of Doors. 78.  
O Poland Monster of our Isle. 82.  
Hay Joller Ringwood and Towzer. 84▪  
Ah cruel Bloody Fate, 86.  
Hail to London fair Town. 89.  
Prince George at last is come. 91.  
A Tory came late through Westminster-hall. 94  
The Golden Age is come. 96.  
Now, now, the Plot is all come out. 99  
Let Pickering now be forgotten. 101.  
Oh the mighty Innocence, etc. 103.  
Be my Shoul and Shoulwation. 106.  
Whigs are now such precious things. 109.  
The Plot God w●t is all broke out. 111.  
Beloved harken all, O Hone. 113.  
Wealth breeds Care, Love Hope and Fear. 115.  
Hark the Thundering Cannons Roar. 117.  
Let the Moors repine their hopes resign. 119.  
You Calvinists of England. 121.  
Ye Whigs and Dissenters, I charge you attend. 125  
There was a Monstrous Doctor. 127.  
I'll tell thee Tom the strangest Story. 130.  
Twa bony Lads were Sawny and Jockey. 134▪  
At Winchester was a Wedding▪ 136.  
When Traitors did at Popery rail. 139.  
Let Wine turn a Spark and Ale huff like a Hector. 142  
Hark, how Noll and Bradshaw's heads, etc. 145.  
Good People I Pray give ear unto me, etc. 148.  
The Second Part, Ibid. 151.  
Rebellion hath broken up house. 155.  
Remember y● Whigs what was formerly done. 158  
Come listen a while though the weather be cold. 160.  
I'll t●ll you a Tale though before 'twas in Print. 162  
When the Plot I first invented. 165.  
I'm glad to hear the Cannons roar. 167.  
Alas what is like to become of the Plot. 170.  
Hell's restless Factious Agents still Plot on. 172.  
No● Loyal Tories may Triumph in Glories. 173.  
〈◊〉 and Ambition alas will deceive you. 176.  
〈◊〉 for great Algernoon. 177.  
Joy to Great Caesar, etc. 179.  
You London Lads rejoice, etc. 181.  
Hark the Fatal day is come, etc. 185.  
Hail to the Prince of the Plot. 187.  
Have you heard of Forty one Sir. 189.  
My Bony dear Shiny, my Crony, my Hony. 191.  
From the Tap in the Guts of the Honourable stump. 193.  
Defend us from all Popish Plots. 195.  
From Council of 6 where Treason prevails. 196.  
Ye London Lads be sorry. 198.  
You Loyal Lads be merry, etc. 200.  
Who would not be a Tory. 202·S  
Let the Whigs repine and all combine. 205.  
Now the Antichristian crew, etc. 207.  
Now, now, the bad Old Cause is tapped. 209.  
I Hang and behead until you be dead. 212.  
Come all you Caballers and Parliament Votes. 213.  
'Twas a foolish fancy Jemmy. 215.  
Rouse, Rouse my laisy Myrmidons. 217.  
Faction and Folly alas will deceive you. 219.  
Let Canons roar from Sea to Shore. 221.  
Have you heard of a Festival Convent. 222.  
Odds hearty Wounds Ise not to Ploughing. 225.  
Now by my Love the greatest Oaths, etc. 226.  
O the Plot Discoverers. 227.  
Drown Melancholy in a Glass of Wine. 228.  
Make room for an honest Red-Coat. 231.  
Our Oats, last week not worth a Gr●at. 234.  
Some say, the Papists had a Plot. 437.  
Now Innocent Blood's almost forgot. 236.  
There is an old story. 241.  
Come, cut again; the Game's not done. 243.  
Informing of lates a notable Trade. 246.  
Since counterfeit Plots have affected this Age. 248.  
The Deel assist the Plotting Whigs. 251.  
Jack Presbyter's up, and hopes at one swoop. 253.  
This is the Cabal of some Protestant Lords. 255.  
Come make a good Toast. 257.  
Ah! Cruel bloody Tom. 260.  
Tell me no more there must be something in't. 263.  
Anagram and Acrostic on the Salamanca Sizer. 264.    

THese Songs you may have in a large Collection, with the Notes. Together with several Loyal Poems, Prints, and Papers upon several occasions, at the Entrance into the Old-Spring-Garden near Charing-Cross; Also any Music-books or Songs may be there Printed.   

Books Printed and Sold by Nath. Thompson▪ at the Entrance into the Old-Spring-Garden near Charing-Cross.  
A Narrative of the Fanatical Plot, setting forth the Treasonable and Wicked Designs which they have been carrying on against the King and Government ever since the last Westminster Parliament. With an account of their Treacherous contrivances against several worthy persons, and the Measures which was used to take off the Evidence by Subornation. To which is added a Relation of the evil practices of John Rouse (who was lately executed at Tyburn) Will. Lewis (who stands convicted) and others. By John Zeal Gent. Price 1 s.  
A Vindication of the Lord russel's Speech and Innocence; in a Dialogue betwixt Whig and Tory: Being the same that was promised to the Observator in a Penny-Post Letter. Price 4 d.  
Staffords Memoirs: or, a Brief and Impartial account of the Birth and Quality, Imprisonment, Trial and Principles, Declaration, Comportment, Devotion, Last Speech and Final end of William late Lord Viscount Stafford, beheaded on Tower-Hill Wednesday the 29th. of December, 1680. Whereunto is annexed a short Appendix concerning some passages in Stephen Colleges Trial at Oxford. Price 1 s. 6 d.  
The Lawyer Outlawed; or, a Brief Answer to Mr. Hunt's defence of the Charter. With some useful Remarks on the Commons proceedings in the last Parliament at Westminster, in a Letter to a friend. Price 6 d.  
A Dialogue between the Devil & the Salamanca Dr.  
A Letter to Mr. Elkana Settle, occasioned upon his Famous Recanting and Plot-Ridiculing Narrative. Price 4. d  
Some Brief Remarks on the Debates of the House of Commons in the last Parliament at Oxford, etc. Price 6 d.  
Oates's Manifesto, or the complaint of Titus Oates against the Dr. of Salamanca: And the same Dr. against Titus Oats, occasioned by some inconsistent Evidence given about the damnable Popish Plot. Price 6 d.  
The Arraignment of Co-Ordinate-Power; wherein all Arbitrary-proceeding are laid open to all Abhorrers and Addressers: With a touch at the London Petition and Charter, etc. very useful for all Lawyers and Gentlemen▪ price 1 s.  
The Genealogies of the Highborn Prince and Princess, George▪ and Anne, of Denmark, etc. showing the Lineal Descent of these two Noble and Illustrious Families: with their Matches, Issues, Times of Death, Place of Sepulchre, Impresses, Devices, etc. From the year of Grace M. to this present year 1684. extracted from the most Authentic Testimonies of the best Hystorians and Antiquaries of their times. Price bound 1 s.  
Janu● Scientiarum: Or, a Compendious Introduction to Geography, Chronology, Government▪ History, Philosophy; And all Gentile sorts of Literature. price Bound 6 d.  
Anima Mundi; Or, an Hystorical Narration of the Opinions of the Ancients concerning Man's Soul after this Life; according to un-enlightened Nature.  
Great i● Diana of the Ephesians; Or, the Original of Idolatry; Together with the Politic Institution of the Gentiles Sacrifices. Both Bound together, price 1 s. 6 d. All three written by Charles Blount Gent.  
The Complete Swearing-Master, etc.  
The Character of an Ignoramus Doctor.   

A Collection of New Loyal SONGS, Made since the beginning of the PLOT.  

The Tune, How Unhappy is Phillis in Love.  

1.  
LEt Oliver now be forgotten,  
His Policy's quite out of Doors,  
Let Bradshaw and Hewson lie rotten,  
Like Sons of Fanatical Whores:  
For Tony's grown a Patrician,  
By Voting damned Sedition,  
For many years,  
Famed Politician,  
The Mouth of all Presbyter Peers.   

2.  
Old Tony a Turncoat at Worster,  
Yet swore he'd maintain the King's Right;  
But Tony did Swagger and Bluster,  
Yet never drew Sword on his side.  
For Tony is like an old Stallion,  
He has still the Pox of Rebellion,  
And never was sound;  
Like the Chameleon,  
Still changing his Shape and his Ground.   

3.  
Old Rowley's returns (Heavens bless Him)  
From Exile and Danger set free;  
Old Tony made haste to Address him,  
And swore none more Loyal than he  
The King, who knew him a Traitor,  
And saw him squint like a satire;  
Yet through his Grace  
Pardoned the Matter,  
And gave him since the Purse and the Mace.   

4.  
And now little Chancellor Tony,  
With Honour had Feathered his Wing,  
And carefully picked up the Money,  
But never a Groat for the King:  
But Tony's Luck was confounded;  
The Duke who smoked him a Round-head;  
From Head to Heel  
Tony was sounded,  
Great York soon put a spoke in his Wheel.   

5.  
But now little Tony in Passion,  
Like Boy that had nettled his Breech,  
Maliciously took an occasion,  
To make a most delicate Speech;  
He told the King like a Croney;  
If e'er he hoped to have Money,  
He must be Ruled:  
Oh fine Tony!  
Was ever Potent Monarch so schooled?   

6.  
The King issues out a Proclamation,  
By Learned and Loyal Advice;  
But Tony possesses the Nation  
The Council will never be wise:  
For Tony is madder and madder,  
And Monmouths blown like a Bladder,  
And L— e too,  
Who grows gladder,  
That they Great York are like to subdue.   

7.  
But Destiny shortly will cross it,  
For Tony's grown Gouty and Sick,  
In spite of his Spigot and Faucet  
The Statesman must go to Old Nick:  
For Tony rails at the Papists,  
Yet he himself is an Atheist;  
Though so precise,  
Foolish and Apish,  
Like holy Quack or Priest in Disguise.   

8.  
But now let this Rump of the Law see,  
A Maxim as Learned in part;  
Who e'er with his Prince is too saucy,  
'Tis feared he's a Traitor in's heart,  
Then Tony cease to be witty,  
By buzzing Treason i'th' City;  
And love the King,  
So ends my Ditty,  
Or else let him die like a Dog in a string.    

The Whigs Exaltation, a Pleasant New Song,  
to an Old Tune of Forty One.  

1.  
NOw, now the Tories all shall stoop.  
Religion and the Laws,  
And Whigs on Commonwealth get up  
To ●a● the Good Old Cause;  
Tantivy-Boys shall all go down,  
And Haughty Monarchy,  
The ●eathern-Cap shall brave the Throne;  
Then hay Boys up go we.   

2.  
When once that Antichristian Crew  
Are crushed, and overthrown,  
We'll teach the Nobles how to bow,  
And keep their Gentry down,  
Good manners has a bad repute,  
And tends to Pride we see;  
We'll therefore cry all Breeding down  
And Hey Boys up go we.   

3  
The Name of Lord shall be abhorred,  
For every man's a Brother;  
What reason's then in Church or State  
One man should Rule another?  
Thus having Peeled and Plundered all,  
And levelled each Degree,  
We'll make their plump young Daughters fall,  
And Hey Boys up go we.   

4.  
What though the KING and Parliament  
Cannot accord together,  
We have good Cause to be content,  
This is our Sunshine weather;  
For if good Reason should take place,  
And they should both agree,  
D'zounds who would be in a Roundheads case?  
For hay then up go we.   

5.  
We'll down with all the ‛ Versities  
Where Learning is profess:  
For they still Practise, and Maintain  
The Language of the Beast;  
We'll Exercise in every Grove,  
And Preach beneath a Tree;  
We'll make a Pulpit of a Tub,  
Then hay Boys up go we.   

6.  
The Whigs shall Rule Committee-Chair,  
Who will such Laws invent,  
As shall Exclude the Lawful Heir  
By Act of Parliament:  
We'll cut His Royal Highness down,  
Even shorter by the Knee,  
That He shall never reach the Throne,  
Then hay Boys up go we.   

7.  
We'll Smite the Idol in Guild-Hall,  
And then (as we were wont,)  
We'll cry it was a Popish Plot,  
And swear those Rogues have done't;  
His Royal Highness to Un-throne  
Our Interest will be,  
For if He ere Enjoy His own,  
Then hay Boys up go we.   

8.  
We'll break the Windows which the Whore  
Of Babylon has Painted;  
And when their Bishops are pulled down,  
Our Elders shall be Sainted:  
Thus having quite Enslaved the Throne,  
Pretending to set free,  
At length the Gallows claims its own,  
Then hay Boys up go we.    

An Excellent New Hymn, Exalting the Mobile to Loyalty, etc.  
To the Tune of Forty One.  

1.  
LEt Us advance the Good Old Cause;  
Fear not Tantivitiers,  
Whose threatenings are as Senseless, as  
Our Jealousies and Fears;  
'Tis We must perfect this great work,  
And all the Tories slay,  
And make the King a Glorious Saint  
The clean contrary way.   

2.  
It is for Liberty we Plot,  
And for the Public Good,  
By making Bishops go to pot,  
And shedding Guiltless Blood;  
We'll Damn the Orthodoxal Beast,  
And their Adherents slay;  
When these are down, we shall be blest  
The clean contrary way.   

3.  
When We the King have Bankrupt lain,  
Of Power and Crown bereft Him,  
And all his Loyal Subjects slain,  
And none but Rebels left him;  
When we have quite undone the Land,  
By Ignoramus sway  
We'll settle the Succession, and  
The clean contrary way.   

4.  
'Tis to preserve His Majesty,  
That we against him rise,  
The Righteous Cause can never die  
That's managed by the Wise,  
Th' Association's a just thing,  
And that does seem to say,  
Who fights for us, fights for the King  
The clean contrary way.   

5.  
Religion still must be th' intent,  
The Nation's Peace and Good,  
The Priuledge of Parliament  
So rarely Understood;  
We'll pull the Laws and Reason down,  
And teach men to obey  
Their Sovereign, and the Rights o'th' Crown  
The clean contrary way.   

6.  
Our Properties we'll upwards set,  
By Imprisonment and Plunder,  
And Needy Whigs Preferment get▪  
To keep all Tories under:  
We'll keep in Pension Oates and Prance,  
To Swear and to Betray  
The Interest of the King, t'Advance  
The clean contrary way.   

7.  
What tho' the King be now misled  
By the Old Popish Crew?  
He'll find our Honesty has sped,  
And give us all our due;  
For we (he knows) do Rail and Plot,  
Rebellion to Obey,  
And that we stand for Peace and▪ Truth  
The clean contrary way.   

8.  
And now my Noble Countrymen  
You cannot doubt my Zeal,  
That we have so true and Loyal been  
To King and Commonweal;  
And if at last we chance to Hang  
For what we do or say;  
Our comfort is, to Heaven we Gang  
The clean contrary way.    

A Song on His Royal Highness' return from Scotland.  
To the Tune of, hay Boys up go we.  

1.  
NOw, now the Zealots all must droop,  
The Synagogues shall down,  
And Truth and Loyalty get up,  
The Pillars of the Throne;  
The Whigs (who Loyalty forsook)  
Shall with one Voice agree,  
To welcome home the mighty Duke  
Of York and Albany.   

2.  
Behold with what a Glorious Train  
Of Noble Lords and Peers,  
Great York is Guarded o'er the Main,  
In spite of all our Fears▪  
Our Groundless Doubts and Jealousies  
Of Popish Slavery.  
For who can keep the Crowd in Peace,  
But York and Albany.   

3.  
The Wand'ring Dove that was sent forth  
To find some Landing near,  
When England's Ark was tossed on Floods  
Of Jealousies and Fears;  
Returns with Olive Branch of Joy,  
To set the Nation free  
From Whiggish Rage, that would destroy  
Great York and Albany.   

4·S  
And now He is returned in Peace,  
With all His Pompous Train,  
Whom Heaven protected o'er the Seas,  
To bless this Land again?  
Let us with thankful Hearts comply,  
And Joyful Harmony;  
For Scotland's Hope, and England's Joy,  
Is York and Albany.   

5.  
Let Bumpers flow, and Bonfires blaze,  
And every Steeple Ring,  
To set forth Royal Jemmy's Praise,  
The Brother of our King:  
Let Trumpets sound, and Cannons roar,  
And with one voice agree,  
Since Heaven again has brought ashore  
Great York and Albany.   

6,  
These solemn Rights they freely gave  
To ev'y Factious Brother;  
Who thought the Nation to Enslave,  
And ruin one another;  
To Monmouth, and each Factious Lord,  
To Oats and Shaftsbury;  
But thought it Treason to afford  
To York and Albany.   

7.  
Now be confounded, all you Tribe  
Of Ignoramus sway;  
Who by Malicious Plots contrived  
To drive the Heir away,  
(As you did once before to France)  
An Exile o'er the Sea;  
Who (to your grief) did home advance  
Great York and Albany.   

8.  
And may He, with the Joys He wed,  
Together flourish still;  
And live to crush the Serpent's head,  
Whose Sting did pierce his heel,  
Till Rebels tremble at his Name,  
And all the Land agree,  
The just Succession to Procliam  
Of York and Albany.    

The Riddle of the Roundhead.  
To the Tune, Now at last the Riddle is Expounded.  

1.  
NOw at last the Riddle is Expounded,  
Which so long the Nation has confounded,  
For the Roundhead  
Begins the Game again,  
Which so well they played in Forty four,  
Now with greater hope;  
For the fine Sham-plots will ne'er give over,  
Till they piously have routed King and Pope.   

2.  
Anthony that worm of Reformation,  
Who of Commonwealth has laid Foundation,  
Which the Nation  
So hotly does pursue;  
Let him be rewarded in the Tower,  
For his Merits due:  
By that busy Plotting head laid lower,  
We may perhaps escape what might ensue.   

3.  
Perkin make fine legs to the shouting Rabble,  
Who to make him King he thinks are able;  
But the Bauble  
Is only showed for use:  
The silly Idiot serves but for a Tool still,  
For Knaves to work their Feats,  
And will remain but a dull mistaken Fool still,  
For all their damned Cabals & Wapping Treats.   

4.  
The most zealous Parliament devoted,  
For the Public good devoutly voted,  
Pray note it,  
That the Duke must ne'er be King;  
And like honest faithful loyal Subjects,  
His Majesty implore,  
To sign their Pious and Religious Projects,  
Or else the threatened King must reign no more.   

5.  
The renowned work of Reformation,  
To be carried on throughout the Nation,  
In a Passion  
They Vote the Canons down:  
Acts and Statutes all must be confounded,  
Law and Justice too,  
To make way for the proud rebellious roundhead  
That they once more the Nation may undo.   

6.  
Lords and Bishops both are useless Voted,  
And the factious crew who gravely Plotted,  
Are noted  
For Lords and Commons too,  
Whigs and Brumighams' with shams and stories,  
Are True Protestants,  
And Protestants are Masquerates and Tories,  
The Modern Reformation of the Saints.   

7.  
Old Queen Bess that made the best Indentures,  
Good King Jemmy too against Dissenters,  
He ventures▪  
To turn them out of doors;  
To take in Quakers Puritan and Ranters,  
The Parliament implores,  
To build a Kirk of Whigs and Covenanters,  
And make a Lawful Race of Sons of Whores.   

8.  
Rowley now with Wisdom and grave Reason,  
To prevent the swift approaching Treason,  
In season  
Put a period to their strife;  
In Oxford all their stratagems confounded,  
The Roguish Joiner too;  
And may no better Fate attend the Roundhead,  
That would the Church and Monarchy subdue.   

6.  
Oxford Loyal Youths who scorn to shame us,  
With a perjured Bill of Ignoramus,  
Or name us  
For Loyal, Traitors known;  
Soon found a flaw i'th' bottom of the Joiner,  
By Justice and the Laws,  
Of Church and Commonwealth an Underminer,  
Who fell a Martyr in the Good Old Cause.   

10.  
Now for shame ye Zealots be confounded,  
Boast no more Allegiance, since a Roundhead  
Is grounded  
Upon the Holy Shame:  
How dare ye talk of Loyalty, a Hater  
Of Justice, King and Laws,  
Since the Whiggish Protestant is found a Traitor,  
And dies a Martyr in the Good Old Cause.    

Ignoramus: An Excellent Song.  
To the Tune of, Lay by your Pleading  

1  
SInce Reformation  
With Whigs in Fashion,  
There's neither Equity nor Justice in the Nation,  
Against their Furies,  
There no such Cure is,  
As lately hath been wrought by Ignoramus-Juries.  
Compaction of Faction  
That breeds all Distraction,  
Is at the Zenith Point, but will not bear an Action.  
They shame us, and flame us,  
And ram us, and damn us,  
And then in spite of Law, come off with Ignoramus.   

2  
Oh, how they Plotted,  
Brimi●hams Voted  
And all the Mobile the Holy Cause promoted;  
They preached up Treason,  
At every season,  
And taught the Multitude Rebellion was but Reason,  
With Breaches, Impeaches,  
And most Loyal Speeches,  
With Royal Blood again to glut the thirsty Leeches.  
They shame us and flame us, etc.   

3  
'Tis such a Jury  
Would pass no Tory,  
Were he as Innocent as a Saint in Glory:  
But let a Brother  
Ravish his Mother,  
Assassinate his King, he would find no other.  
They shamed, and blamed,  
At loyalists aimed;  
But when a Whig's reprieved the Town with Beacons flamed  
They shame us and flame us, etc.   

4  
This Ignoramus  
With which they shame us,  
Would find against a York, to raise a M— thamus  
Who clears a Traitor;  
And a King Hater  
Against his Lawful Prince would find sufficient matter  
They sought it, and wrought it,  
Like Rebels they fought it,  
And with the price of Royal Martyr's blood they bought it▪  
They shame us, and flame us, etc.   

5  
At the Old-Baily,  
Where Rogues flock daily,  
A greater Traitor far then Coleman, White or Staley  
Was late Indicted,  
Witnesses cited,  
But then he was set free; so the King was righted  
'Gainst Princes, Offences  
Proved in all senses;  
But 'gainst a Whig there's no Truth in Evidences▪  
They shame us, and flame us, etc.   

6  
But wot you what, Sir?  
They found it not, Sir;  
'Twas every Jurors Case, and there lay all the Plot, Sir.  
For at this season,  
Should they do reason,  
Which of themselves would scape, if they found it Treason?  
Compassion in fashion,  
The Interest of th' Nation  
Oh, what a Godly point is self-preservation!  
They shame us, and flame us, etc.   

7  
Alas what is Conscience  
In Baxter's own sense,  
When Interest lies at stake, an Oath and Law is Nonsense.  
Now they will banter  
Quaker and Ranter,  
To find a loyalist, and clear a Covenanter.  
They'll wrangle and brangle,  
The Soul entangle,  
To save the Traitor's Neck from the old Triangle.  
They flame us, and shame us, etc.   

8  
Alas! for pity  
Of this good City,  
What will the Tories say in their drunken Ditty?  
When all Abettors.  
And Monarch-haters,  
The Brethren damned their Souls to save Malicious Traitors  
But mind it, long wound,  
With prejudice blinded,  
Lest what they did reject, another Jury find it  
Then shame us, and flame us.  
And ram us, and damn us.  
When against King and Law you find an Ignoramus    

London's Loyalty,  
To a Pleasant New Tune, Called Burton-Hall.  

1  
Rouse up Great Genius  
Of this Potent Land,  
Lest Traitors once more  
Get the upper hand;  
The Rebel Crowd their  
Former Tenants own,  
And Treason worse than Plagues  
Infect the Town:  
The Sneaking Mayor  
And his two Pimping Shreeves,  
Who for their honesty  
No better are then Thiefs;  
Fall from their Sov'raigns' side,  
To Court the Mobile,  
Oh! London, London,  
Where's thy Loyalty?   

2  
First, Yorkshire Patience  
Twirls his Copper Chain;  
And hopes to see a  
Commonwealth again;  
The Sneaking Fool  
Of breaking is afraid▪  
Dares not change● is side  
For fear he lose his Trade;  
Then Loyal Slingsby  
Does their Fate Divine—  
He that Abjured the King▪  
Bnd all his Sacred Line,  
And is supposed His Father's  
Murderer to be;  
Oh! Bethel, Bethel,  
Where's thy Loyalty?   

3  
A most Notorious Villain  
Late was caught,  
And after to the Bar  
Of Justice brought;  
But slingsbies packer a Jury  
Of his own,  
Of worse Rogues than e'er  
Made Gallows groans  
Then Dugdales' Evidence  
was soon decried,  
That was s● just, and honesty  
When Old Stafford died:  
Now was a perjured Villain,  
And he lied.  
Oh! Justice, Justice,  
Where's thy Equity?   

4  
Now Cl— tun, murmurs  
Treason, unprovok'd,  
First supped the King, and after  
Wished him choked,  
'Cause Danby's Place was  
Well bestowed before,  
He Rebel turns, seduced  
By Scarlet Whore;  
His saucy Pride aspires  
To High Renown,  
Leather Breeches are forgot  
In which he trudged to Town,  
Nought but the Treasury  
Can please the scribbling Clown  
Oh! Robin, Robin,  
Where●s thy Modesty?   

5  
Pl— oer now grows dull,  
And pines for want of Whore;  
Poor Creswel, she can take  
His word no more,  
Three Hundred Pounds,  
Is such a heavy yoke,  
Which not being paid,  
The worn out Bawd is broke,  
These are the Instruments  
By Heaven sent,  
These are the Saints Petition  
For a Parliament:  
That would for Interest sake,  
Destroy the Monarchy:  
Oh! London, London,  
Where's thy Loyalty?   

6  
Heaven Bless Fair England,  
And its Monarch here,  
In Scotland, Bless your  
High Commissioner,  
Let Perkin his ungracious  
Error see  
And Tony scape no more  
The Triple Tree:  
Then Peace and plenty  
Shall our joys restore,  
Villains and Factions  
Shall oppress the Town no more.  
But every Loyal Subject  
Then shall happy be,  
Nor need we care  
For London's Loyalty.    

The Loyal Health. A Court Song,  
to a Delicate new Tune.  

1.  
SInce Plotting's a Trade,  
Like the rest of the Nation:  
Let 'em Lie and Swear on,  
To keep up the Vocation;  
Let Tinkers and Weavers,  
And Joiner's agree▪  
To find work for the Cooper,  
They'll have none of me,  
Let Politic sham's,  
In the Statesmen abound,  
While we quaff off our Bumpers,  
And set the Glass round:  
The jolly true Toper's  
The best Subject still,  
Who drinks off his Liquor,  
And thinks no more ill.   

2.  
Then let us stand to't,  
And like honest Men fall,  
Who love King and Country▪  
Duke, Duchess and all:  
Not such as would blow up  
The Nation by stealth,  
And out of the flame  
Raise a new Commonwealth:  
Not such, who against Church  
And Bishops do rage,  
To advance old Jack Presbyter,  
on the new Stage.  
But to all honest Tories  
Who'll fight for their King,  
And to Crown the brave work,  
With the Court we'll begin.   

3.  
Here's a Health to the King,  
And his Lawful Successors  
To honest Tantivies,  
And Loyal Addressors;  
But a pox take all those,  
That promoted Petitions▪  
To Poison the Nation,  
And stir up Seditions▪  
Here's a Health to the Queen,  
And her Ladies of Honour,  
And a pox take all those,  
that put Shame plots upon her.  
Here's a Health to the Duke,  
And the Senate of Scotland,  
And to all honest Men,  
That from Bishops ne'er got-Land.   

4  
Here's a Health to L'estrange,  
And the boon Heraclitus:  
And true Tory Thompson,  
Who never did slight us,  
And forgetting Broom, Paulin,  
And Alderman Wrightus,  
With Tony and Bethel,  
Ignoramus and Titus;  
Here's a Health to the Church,  
And all those that are for it,  
Confusion to Zealots,  
And Whigs that abhor it,  
May it ever be safe,  
From the new mode Refiners:  
And may Justice be done  
Upon Cooper's and Joiner's.   

5.  
Here's a Health to old Hall—,  
Who our joys did restore;  
And a pox take each popular  
Son of a Whore;  
To the Spaniard and Dane,  
The brave Russian and Moor,  
Who come from far Nations,  
Our King to adore,  
To all that do Worship,  
The God of the Vine,  
And to old Jolly Bowman  
Who draws us good Wine;  
And as for all Traitors,  
Whether Baptist or Whig,  
May they all trot to Tyburn,  
To dance the old Jig.   

6  
Here's a Health to all those,  
Who Love the King and his Laws,  
And may they near Pledge it  
That Broached the Old Cause  
Here's a Health to the State,  
And a Plague on the Pack  
Of Commonwealth Canters▪  
And Presbyrer Jack;  
To the uppermost pendent  
That ever did play  
On the highest Top-gallant  
Oth' Sovereign o'th' Sea;  
And he that denies  
To the Standard to lore,  
May he sink in the Ocean,  
And never Drink more.    

The Loyal Scot; an Excellent New Song,  
To a New Scotch Tune.  

1.  
Bread of Gued! I think the Nation's ma●  
And nene but Knaves and perjured Loo● do rule the Roast;  
And for an honest Kerl ne livings to be had  
Why sure the Deel is landed on the Eagle Coast.  
I ha' ne'er been here sin ' Forty Three,  
And now through Scotland gang, to'l see o● Gracious KING;  
But wunds a Gued! instead of Mirth an● Mery-glee,  
I find and s●iv'ling Presbyter is coming in.   

2.  
For they talk of horrid Popish Plots, and Heaven knows what,  
When au the wiser World knows well what they'd be at;  
For with sike like seeming Sanctity the geudest KING  
They did to Death and Ruin bring.   

When on the Civil-broils they first did enter in,  
(As well ye ken) with Popery they did begin▪  
And with Liberty and Public Geud was muckle din,  
When the Deel a bit they meant the Thing.   

3▪  
That Machine of monstrous Policy,  
Ise mean old Shaftsbury for Loyalty so ●am'd  
The voice of all the Geudly Rabble Mobile,  
The fausest Loon that ever Envy destined Damned   

Heaven sure never meant so fou a thing,  
But to inform the world where Villainy did dwell:  
And sike a Traitor beath to Commonwealth and KING  
The muckle Deel did surely never hatch in Hell.   

4.  
For, like Roman Catiline, to gain his Pious Ends,  
He pimps for au the loose Rebellious Fops in Toon:  
And with Treats and Treason daily crams his City Friends,  
From the Link●man to the Scarlet-Goon.   

And with high Debauchery they carry on the CAUSE,  
And Guedly Reformation is the Shame pretence▪  
And Religiously defy Divine and Humane Laws,  
With Obedience to their Rightful Prince.   

5.  
Then, as SPEAKER, to this Grand Cabal,  
Old Envy Tony, seated at the head o●th' Board,  
His learned Oration for Rebellion makes to All,  
Applauded and approved by every Factious LORD.   

Cully JEMMY than they vote for KING,  
Whom Curse confound for being sike a senseless Loon  
Can they who did their Lawful Lord to th' Scaffold bring  
Be just to Him, that has no Title to a Croon?   

6.  
But they find he's a Blockhead fitting for their Use,  
A FOOL by Nature, and a KNAVE by Custom grown.  
A Gay Fop-Monarch, that the Rabble may abuse  
And their business done, will soon unthrone.   

And Jemmy swears and vows, began he can get the Croon,  
He by the Laws of Forty Even will guided be:  
And Profane Lawn-sleeves and Surplices again must done,  
Then hay for and PRESBYTERY.   

7.  
B—m a Statesman would be thought,  
And reason geud that he should bear that reverend Name,  
Since he was even of them that first began the PLOT,  
How he the King might Banter, and three Kingdoms Sham.   

Au the Malcontents His Noble Grace  
To this Rehearsal did invite, to hear and see:  
But, whilst He wittily contrived it but a Farce,  
The busier Noddles turned it into Tragedy.   

8.  
And now each Actor does begin to play his part,  
And too so well he cons his Gear, and takes his Cue,  
Till they learn to play the Rebel so by rote of heart,  
That the fictitious Story seems most True.   

And now, without control, they apprehend and hang  
And with the Nation au is Gospel that they swear:  
Then, bonny Jockey, prithee back to'l Scotland gang,  
For a Loyal Lad's in danger here.    

The State Empirick, a New Song.  
To the Tune of, Which no body can deny.  

1.  
FRom over the Seas not long since there came,  
A Doctor of most Notorious Fame,  
If you please you may guests at his Unchristian name.  
which no body can deny.   

2.  
This Doctor came hither to cure three Nations.  
Who were so silly as to be his Patients;  
And first he Blooded 'em for the Fashions.  
Which no body can deny.   

3.  
The Medicine he brought was called a PLOT,  
Which was Compounded of the Devil knows what:  
When first he Arrived it was Piping-Hot.  
Which, etc.   

4.  
But if we may guests at the Damned Composition▪  
'Twas a mess of all sorts of English Sedition,  
Made up by a Presbyterian Physician.  
Which, etc.   

5.  
To make each Dose go down the safer,  
What does the still this Learned Gaffer,  
But cover it o'er with a Papist●s Wafer.  
Which, etc.   

6.  
As soon as 'twas Swallowed, the Patient began  
To Stare and to Talk like a Lunatic Man,  
Of Pistols and Daggers, to Kill and Trapan.  
Which, etc.   

7.  
To some 'twas Emetic, to others Cathartick,  
(I mean, to all those who of it did partake,)  
In short, it made every Honest Man's heart-ake.  
Which, etc.   

8.  
To say truth we were all in a filthy Condition  
This voided a Libel, that Spewed a Petition,  
For which we may thank in part our Physician.  
Which, etc.   

9  
At last it made our Blood so ferment,  
That a Rancorous Sore from Men's Body's was sent:  
The Ulcer, I mean, of a strange Parliament.  
Which, etc.   

10.  
It's Venom upon each Member was shed;  
The Body it almost had overspread,  
Nay, it had e●en like to have seized on the Head.  
Which, etc.   

11.  
But one wiser than all, did give't such a Thump,  
That it burst and went out, just next to the Rump.  
Which made with Joy every Loyal Heart Jump.  
Which▪ etc.   

12.  
This Ulcer was full of Pistol and Sword,  
With Blunderbuss and with your things made of Board,  
Your Protestant flails to Fight for the Lord.  
Which, &c   

13.  
O Doctor! I fear, you studied Art Magic,  
To Compass your Ends, which still were so Tragic:  
But now it is hoped that we may lead You a Jig.  
Which, etc.   

14.  
Or else I am sure, without being uncivil,  
A Man my believe you deal with the Devil,  
For no body else could have wrought us  
such Evil. Which, etc.   

15.  
Your Canting was Charm, Rebellion your Witch,  
With these you gave the Poor Rabble the Itch,  
When like Emp'rick on Stage you made 'em a Speech.  
Which, etc.   

16.  
Y'are Jilted you see by Faction your Whore,  
Your little Tap-Pug can help you no more:  
Hell owes Both a Spite, and will pay ye the score.  
Which no body can deny.    

Titus' Telltruth: A Song  
to the Tune of, Hail to the Myrile Shades.  

1.  
HAil to the Knight of the Post;  
To Titus the Chief of the Town  
Titus who vainly did boast  
Of the Salamancha Gown;  
Titus who saw the world o'er,  
From the Tower of Valadolid,  
Yet stood in the White-horse Door,  
And swore to it, like the Creed.   

2.  
Titus at Watton in May,  
To Titus at Islington;  
And Titus the self same day  
Both Here and There again.  
Titus who never swore Truth,  
His Politic Plots to maintain,  
And never yet bawked an Oath,  
When called to the Test again.   

3.  
Then Titus was Meekest of all,  
When Never a Penny in's Purse,  
And oft did on Pickering call,  
His Charity to Imburse.  
But when he swore Damnable Oaths,  
And Lying esteemed no Sin,  
Then Titus was One of those  
Whom the Devil had entered in.   

4.  
Then Titus the Frown of Heaven,  
And Titus a Plague upon Earth;  
Titus who'll ne'er be Forgiven,  
Cursed from his Fatal Birth;  
Titus the Curse and the Doom  
Of the Rich and the Poor Man too;  
Oh Titus, thou Shred of a Loom,  
What a plague dost thou mean to do?   

5.  
Titus an Orthodox Beast,  
And Titus a Presbyter Tall;  
Titus a Popish Priest,  
And Titus the shame of all;  
Titus who ne'er had the skill  
The Wise with his Plots to deceive  
But Titus whose Tongue can kill;  
Whom Nature has made a Sla▪   

6.  
Titus the Light of the Town,  
Where Zealots and Whigs do resort;  
Titus the Shame of the Gown,  
And Titus the Scorn of the Court;  
Titus who Spewed out the Truth,  
To Swallow the Covenant;  
Yet never blushed at an Oath,  
Whom Lying has made a Saint.   

7.  
Yet Titus believed could be  
Against any Popish Lord;  
Whilst still against Shaftsbury  
The Witness and Truth's abhorred;  
So Titus got Credit and Gold  
For Lying, an thought it no Sin;  
But against Dissenters bold  
The Truth is not worth a pin.   

8.  
Thus Titus Swore on a pace,  
'Gainst those whom he never did see;  
Yet Titus with brazen Face  
Would our Preserver be.  
But as Titus the foremost in Trust  
Discovered this Mystery:  
May Titus so be the First  
That leads to the Triple-Tree.    

The Complete Swearing-Master:  
To the Tune of, Now now the Fight's done.  

1.  
ONce on a time, the Dr. did Swea●,  
By the help of his Friend the Prince of the Air.  
He was busy in Consult, one day in Spain,  
And on the same day in England again,  
And the Dr. did wear that Noble Don John,  
Though little and Fair, was a tall black Man.   

2.  
The Dr. Swore he brought Commissions to Town  
From Father Oliva, to men of Renown:  
To raise mighty Force, the King to destroy,  
For which many Ruffians the Pope did employ;  
And the Dr. did Swear that little Don John,  
Was Black, and also a very tall Man.   

3.  
That forty thousand Pilgrims there were,  
Armed with Black Bills, that marched in the Air  
And ready to strike when the Pope should command,  
And carry to Rome poor little England.  
And the Dr. did Swear as few others can,  
That little Don John is a tall black Man.   

4.  
And the Dr. did Swear he had Letters full many  
But for all he Swore, he ne'er produced any,  
It's much he kept none to make out the matter  
But it may be he lost them, in crossing the Water;  
But that's all one the Dr. Swore on,  
That little Don John was a tall black Man.   

5.  
He swore two hundred thousand pounds sent  
To Ireland, which was all to be Spent:  
In Squibs to burn houses, Ammunition and Bills,  
And pay Popish Doctors for King Killing Pills:  
Which he swore had been done if the Plot had gone on,  
And then Swore Don John a very tall Man.   

6.  
And the Dr. did swear he knew not some men,  
Yet afterwards swore, he knew them again;  
And the Dr. did Swear by the fair candlelight  
He could not discern a Man from a Mite:  
But believe him who will, for I hardly can,  
That little Don John is a tall black Man.   

7.  
And he swore he always a Protestant was,  
And ne'er cared a Fart for Pope or for Mass,  
And he Swore he went to St. Omers to find  
What the Jesuits had against England designed.  
And the Dr. did swear, deny it who can,  
That little Don John was a tall black Man   

8.  
And the Dr. did swear a thousand things more  
That discovering the plot had made him so poor,  
And he swore himself 700 pounds worse,  
But a pox of all lies, take that with a curse:  
But I le not believed, although others can,  
That little Don John is a tall black Man.   

9  
Now if it should please the Dr. to swear  
To keep his hand in, a Man is a Bear;  
Or the Dr. will swear his Soul to the Devil,  
He wall do it for me, I love to be Civil;  
Every man in his way, let the Dr. swear on,  
But I beg his excuse in the size of Don John.   

10.  
The Dr. may swear the Crow to be white,  
Or a Pigmy to be of Gygantick height,  
Or double his numbers of Pilgrims and Bills,  
And swear them drawn up in Lincolns-Inn-fields.  
I hear't and believe't as much as I can,  
That little Don John is a tall black Man,   

11.  
There's no stopping the tide, let the Dr. swear on.  
The black is the fair, or the fair the black Man,  
Or swear what he will I care not a T—,  
I'd as soon as his, take another man's word:  
So Dr. be damned and Swear all you can,  
Don John is not tall, nor yet a black Man:    

A Tory in a Whig's Coat:  
To the Tune of, Up with Aley, etc.  

1.  
WHat! still ye Whigs uneasy!  
Will nothing college your Brain,  
Unless Great Charles, to please-ye,  
Will let ye drive his Wain?  
Then up with Prance and Oats,  
And up with Knaves a pair;  
But down with him that Votes  
Against a Lawful Heir.   

2.  
Your Grievance is removed,  
Old Staufford's made a Saint,  
Though you but little proved,  
The Churl away you sent.  
Then up with all your spite,  
And show us what you mean;  
I fear me, by this Light,  
Ye long to vent your Spleen.   

3.  
That Peerless House of Commons.  
So zealous for the Lord,  
Meant (piously) with some on's  
To flesh the Godly Sword:  
Then up with au the Leaven,  
With each Dissenting Loon,  
Then up with Bully Stephen;  
But College is gone done.   

4.  
What would those Loons have had?  
What makes 'em still to mutter?  
I think thy're au go mad,  
They keep so muckle clutter:  
Then up with Pilk and Suit,  
Another Blessed Pair;  
And up with ev'ry Brute;  
But chiefly Goatham's Mayo▪   

5.  
Our Salamancha-Priest  
Has left his Flock in haste;  
And shrewdly is he missed;  
Which makes us all gast:  
Then up with Lads of worth,  
With Baldwin, V●le and Care;  
For these must now hold forth,  
And Dick shall nose a Prayer.   

But is our Parson gone;  
And whither gone I trow?  
What, back again to Spain?  
Gued Faith e'en let him go:  
Then up with blundering S.  
The Tories Plague, I trow;  
'Tis he our Cause must bless  
With Characters, and so.—   

7.  
But scurvy Heraclitus,  
And Roger too is rude,  
And not, who plagues poor Titus,  
Which makes us chew the Cud:  
Then up with Associations,  
Remonstrances and Libels;  
'Tis these must save Three Nations,  
And will presreve our Bible's   

8.  
The Popish Fox does seem  
To sleep his time away;  
But his pernicious Dream  
Is only to Betray:  
Then up with How. the Mole,  
And many more that be;  
But up with Little Pole  
Upon the highest Tree.   

9  
Hieraclitus is a Debtor,  
To some within the City,  
Who sent him sike a Letter,  
He'll pay them in a Ditty:  
Then up with au Dissenters,  
Up with 'em in a Cart:  
And up with him that ventures  
His Majesty to thwart.   

10.  
But now Great YORK is come,  
(Whom Heaven still be with)  
You'll find (both all and some)  
'Twas ill to show your Teeth:  
Then up with e●ry Round-head,  
And ev'ry Factious Brother,  
You're Luck is now confounded.  
Ye au must up together.    

The Protestant flail:  
To the Tune of, Lacy's Maggot; Or, The Hobby-Horse.  

1.  
LIsten a while, and I'll tell you a Tale  
Of a new Device of a Protestant flail;  
With a Thump, Thump, Thump, a Thump,  
Thump, a Thump, Thump.  
This flail it was made of the finest wood,  
Well lined with Lead, and notable good,  
For splitting of Brains, and shedding of blood  
Of all that withstood,  
With a Thump, Thump, etc.   

2.  
This flail was invented to thrash the Brain,  
And leave behind not the wait of a grain,  
With a Thump, etc.  
At the handle-end there hung a Weight,  
That carried with it unavoidable Fate,  
To take the Monarch a rap in the Pate,  
And govern the State.  
With a Thump, etc.   

3.  
It took its degree in Oxford-Town,  
And with the Carpenter went down,  
With a Thump, etc.  
If any durst his Might oppose,  
He had you close, in spite of your Nose,  
To carry on clever the Good Old Cause,  
And down with the Laws,  
With a Thump, etc.   

4  
With this they threatened to forestall  
The Church, and give the Bishops a Mawl  
With a Thump, etc.  
If King and Lords would not submit  
To the joiner's will while the House did sit,  
If this in the right place did hit,  
The cause it would split,  
With a Thump, etc.   

5.  
Two handfuls of Death, with a Thong hung fast,  
By a Zealot who hanged himself at last,  
With a Thump, etc.  
With a moving head both stiff and stout,  
Found by the Protestant Joiner out,  
To have at the King & the Laws t'other bout▪  
And turn them both out,  
With a Thump, etc.   

6.  
Invinsibly 'twould deal his Blows,  
All to maintain the Good Old Cause,  
With a Thump, &c  
Would Liberty and Freedom bring  
To every thing except the King,  
At Monarchy it had a fling,  
And took its swing,  
With a Thump, etc.   

7.  
This flail was made of the Newest Fashion,  
To heal the Breaches of the Nation,  
With a Thump, etc.  
If Faction any difference bred,  
T●won'd split the Cause in the very Head,  
Till Monarchy reeled, and Loyalty bled,  
And were knocked in the Head,  
With a Thump, etc.   

8.  
When any Strife was in the State,  
This flail woven end the whole Debate,  
With a Thump, etc.  
'Gainst Arbitrary Power of State,  
And Popery which the Zealots hate,  
It woven give them such a Rap on the Pate,  
They must yield to their Fate,  
With a Thump, etc.   

9  
It had a thousand Virtues more,  
And had a Salve for every Sore,  
With a Thump, etc.  
With this they thought to have maintained,  
The Loyal Tribe, and Royalists brained:  
But the joiner was hanged, and the flail was Arraigned  
And the Conquest Regained,  
With a Thump, etc.   

10.  
May Tony and all our Enemies,  
Meet with no better Fate than his,  
With a Thump, etc.  
May Charles still live to Rule the State,  
And York, (whom all Dissenters hate)  
To be revenged upon their Pate,  
By timely fate,  
With a Thump, Thump, Thump a Thump,  
Thump, a Thump, Thump.    

IGNORAMUS●Justice,  
To the Tune of, Sir Egledemore.  

1.  
DId you not hear of a Peer that was Tried?  
With a fa▪ lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, la.  
That looks like a Cask with a Tap in his side;  
With a fa, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, la.  
This Noble Peer to the Bar was called;  
The Witnessses sworn, but the Foreman out-bauled;  
With a fa, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, la.   

2.  
Then up Sir Samuel did start;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
And found the Bill not worth a F—;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
With that the Court kept such a stir,  
The Foreman should prove so s●yll a Sir,  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.   

3.  
The Witnesses for the King swore plain;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
But had they been as many again;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
The Jury before such Truths received,  
Nor them, nor St. Peter they would have believed;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.   

4.  
The Witnesses brought him a Traitor in;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
But the Jury found it another thing;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
For he who did still his King oppose,  
Is made a true Subject in spite of the Laws;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.   

5.  
Thus this Great Lord of High Renown;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
Th' Exalted Idol of the Town;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
Is cleared by Ignoramus-sway,  
For Betraying the Church and the King in a day,  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.   

6.  
The Rabble to show their Loyalty;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
Did in full shouts with the Jury agree;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
They Bonfires made with great applause,  
And all to maintain the Good Old Cause;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.   

7.  
And now in spite of King and Queen;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
More Jollity was in the Streets to be seen;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
Then on the Twenty Ninth of May,  
Though it was the Restauration-day;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.   

8.  
Another passage I chanced to hear;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
That the Doctor is fallen from the Front to the Rear;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
He to the Saints does now incline,  
Abjures the King, with the Rebels Combines;  
With a fa, lafoy, &c▪   

9  
Yet these pretend now for to Inherit;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
(As Heirs do Estates) the Light of the Spirit;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
Yet let them say or do what they will,  
They'll find themselves Ignoramus still;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.   

10.  
But had it been a Popish Lord;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
One Witness then had served in a word;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
They had not then enquired so far;  
But found it, and never have stepped from the Bar  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.   

11.  
If by this Law the Charter be lost;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
Will Tony's Estate repay all the Cost?  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
The Boys will then find out the Cheat.  
And de De Wit the old Cam●al in his Retreat;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.   

12.  
They'll Curse that Pate that studied to bring;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
Plague to the Country, and Ruin to th' King;  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.  
Divested thus of Citophel's Pride,  
They'll do him that Justice which Juries denied  
With a fa, lafoy, etc.    

The Loyal Feasts;  
to the Tune of Sawney will never be my Love again.  

1.  
TONY was small, but of Noble Race,  
And was beloved of every one;  
He Broached his Tap, and it ran apace  
To make a Solemn Treat for all the Town  
He sent to Yeoman, Knight, and Lord,  
The Holy Tribe to Entertain  
With all the Nation could afford,  
But Tony will never be himself again.   

2.  
He sent to the Shambles for all their Store,  
And left behind neither Fowl nor Beast;  
The Spigot ran swift and fain would do more  
To make all the Lords a Noble Feast;  
He sent to Market, sent to Fair,  
His Loyal Guests to entertain,  
But of the Banquet he had no share,  
And Tony will never be himself again.   

3.  
At two great Halls in London Town,  
Designed to meet a Zealous Crew  
Of Lords and Knights of High Renown,  
And all were Protestants True Blue.  
They threw in Guineys' free as Brass,  
The Noble Frolic to Maintain,  
But on Great Charles the Shame would not pass  
And Tony will etc.   

4.  
With Duty to their Lawful Prince,  
A Loyal Subject every one;  
To pray for him is the Pretence,  
And then to Rail and Plot against the Crown  
From Church they did intend to th' Hall,  
Their Noble Guests to Entertain;  
But they were Routed, Horse and all,  
And Tony etc.   

5.  
In favour of the King and Duke,  
The Heir-Apparent of the Throne,  
His Highness they Exclude, and took  
A Fop-Pretender of their own;  
The meek Guide Moses they withstand,  
A Golden Calf to Entertain;  
But Royal Charles he dispersed the Band,  
And Tony, etc.   

6.  
The Bloody Papists shall no more  
Contrive against his Life and Reign:  
Tho' it was themselves did the Feat before,  
And are as ready to do't again.  
Thus they Exclude the Rightful Heir,  
The Gaudy Fop to Entertain,  
But they were met by the good Lord Mayor,  
And Tony etc.   

7.  
With thanks and Prayers for our good King  
They Vowed to Sacrifice the Day;  
But Royal Charles he smoked out the thing;  
And sent the Rabble with a Pox away.  
He sent his Summons to the Cit.,  
Seditious Meetings to Restrain,  
The Feast was broke, and the Guests were besh—,  
And Tony etc.   

8  
And now the Capons fly about,  
With Frigaces of Ambergris,  
And Chickens ready dressed they Shout  
About the Street for pence a piece:  
The Whigs did wish the Council choked,  
Who did this Noble Feast restrain;  
All down in the Mouth to be thus bawked,  
Poor Tony will never be himself again.    

Old Jemmey.  
Tune of, Young Jemmey.  

1.  
OLd Jemmy is a Lad  
Right lawfully descended;  
No Bastard born nor bred,  
Nor for a Whig suspended:  
The true and Lawful Heir to th' Crown,  
By Right of Birth and Laws,  
And bravely will maintain his own,  
In spite of all his Foes.   

2.  
Old Jemmy is the Top  
And Chief amongst the Princes;  
No Mobile gay Fop,  
With Brimigham pretences:  
A Heart and Soul so wondrous great  
And such a conquering Eye,  
That every Loyal Lad fears not  
In Jemmy's Cause to die.   

Old Jemmy is a Prince  
Of Noble Resolutions.  
Whose Powerful influence  
Can order our Confusions:  
But Oh! He fights with such a Grace  
No Force can him withstand;  
No God of War but must give place  
Where Jemmy leads the Van   

4.  
To Jemmy every Swain  
Does pay due Veneration;  
And Scotland does maintain  
His Title to the Nation:  
The Pride of all the Court he stands  
The Patron of his Cause,  
The Joy and Hope of all his Friends  
The terror of his Foes.   

5.  
Maliciously they Vote,  
To work Old Jemmy's Ruin,  
And zealously promote  
A Bill for his undoing:  
Both Lords and Commons most agree  
To pull His Highness down;  
But ('spight of all their Policy)  
Old Jemmy's Heir to th' Crown.   

6.  
The Schismatic and Saint,  
The Baptist and the Atheist,  
Swear by the Covenant,  
Old Jemmy is a Papist;  
Whilst all the Holy Crew did plot  
To pull His Highness down,  
Great Albany a Noble Scot  
Did raise unto a Crown.   

7.  
Great Albany they swear,  
He before any other,  
Shall be immediate Heir  
Unto His Royal Brother,  
Who will in spite of all his Foes,  
His Lawful Rights maintain,  
And all the Fops that interpose,  
Old Jemmy's York again.   

8.  
The Whigs and Zealots' Plot  
To banish him the Nation,  
But the Renowned Scot  
Hath wrought his Restauration.  
With high respects they treat his Grace  
His Royal Cause maintain;  
Brave Albany (to Scotland's Praise)  
Is Mighty York again.   

9  
Against his envious Fates  
The Kirk hath taught a Lesson;  
A Blessing on the States,  
To settle the Succession.  
They real were, both Knight and Lord  
And will his Rights maintain;  
By Royal Parliament restored,  
Old Jemmy's come again.   

10.  
And now He's come again,  
In spite of all Pretenders,  
Great Albany shall Reign  
Amongst the Faith's Defenders.  
Let Whig and Brimigham repine;  
They show their Teeth in vain;  
The Glory of the British Line,  
Old Jemmy's come again.    

The Honour of Great York and Albany,  
to a new Tune.  

1.  
THe Commons now are at a stand,  
And evermore I hope shall be;  
For Scotland will be a help at hand,  
For Great James Duke of Al-ba-ny.  
For Scotland,   

2.  
A braver Nation he can't have,  
For Love, for Truth, for Loyalty;  
Each Man will Fight into his Grave,  
For great James Duke of Albany.  
Each man, etc.   

3.  
A Soldier stout is he, and brave,  
As ever any man did see,  
God bless the King, and Queen, and Save  
Our Great James, Duke of Albany,  
God bless, etc.   

4.  
He very Wise, and Pious is,  
There's no Man knows the Contrary;  
Then Damned be him that thinks amiss,  
Of Great James Duke of Albany.  
Then Damned &c.   

5▪  
All Loyal Subjects him must love,  
The Heir Apparent, still is he,  
Next to the King, there's none above  
Our Great James Duke of Albany.  
Next to the King, etc.   

6.  
Then let our Reason our ill Will sway,  
And every man upon his Knee,  
I do not mean to drink, but Pray,  
For Great James Duke of Albany.  
I do not mean, etc.   

7.  
There's no man is so mad to think,  
That Drinking can availing be,  
'Tis better for to Fight than Drink,  
For Great James Duke of Albany.  
'Tis better, etc.   

8.  
Yet do not think I'll bawk his Health,  
But with my cup, most moderately,  
I'll drink, I'll fight, and spend my wealth,  
For Great James Duke of Albany.  
I'll Drink, I'll fight, and spend, etc.    

The Wellwishers to the Royal Family.  
To a New Tune.  

1.  
NOw the Tories, that Glories  
In Royal Jemmy's return,  
The Tavern shall Roar it and Score it,  
Your Caps and Bonnets burn:  
Let the Lads and Lasses  
Set foot foot in their Turn;  
And he that passes his Glasses,  
May he never Escape the Horn:  
Royal James is come again,  
There's for honest men room again,  
The true Heir is come again;  
Fop Pretenders we scorn,  
Then hay Boys laugh it, and quaff it,  
Let Whigs and Zealots mourn.   

2.  
Let Impeaches and Speeches  
Be with the Authors pulled down;  
And all that Preaches or Teaches  
Against the Heir of the Crown:  
No more the Zealous shall tell us  
Of the Succession of the Throne;  
Till the Rebellious so Zealous,  
His lawful Interest own:  
Monarchy is got up again,  
Every Man take his Cup again,  
Till we make the Whigs stoop again:  
Who our Peace would enthrall:  
And every Rebel that Libelled,  
Do at his Foot stool fall,   

3.  
Let's be Loyal and Joy-al,  
Spite of each Factious Cabal,  
Who daily deny all, defy all,  
That we can Loyalty call;  
Who Smoking, and Soaking,  
With the return of the Rump,  
Sadly Looking, sit Croaking,  
To see it Wore to''th' Stump;  
Then set the Glass Round again,  
For our time let's not spend in vain,  
But let us now Drink a Main,  
Fill it up to the Brim:  
Come round Boys let's Trowel it & Bowl it,  
Till our Joys they do swim.   

4.  
For Him our Choices and Voices,  
Shall all hereafter be free,  
Whilst each one Rejoices, our Noises  
Shall defend the Raging o'th' Sea;  
We'll attend him, befriend him,  
Let Malice Vote what it will;  
Coin we'll Lend Him, Defend Him,  
And we'll rejoice in Him still:  
Then let us no Mirth refrain,  
Since that now he is safe again,  
Well having escaped the Main;  
From the Salt Waters set free,  
Then hay Boys laugh it, and quaff it,  
And let us Merry be.   

5.  
Though the Zealous, grow Jealous,  
And Create much needless fear,  
By which means they'd Drill us and Will us.  
Like themselves to appear;  
But no Wonder, since Plunder,  
Is that at which they aim,  
That the Whigs wander under  
Religious Guile, which they Shame:  
But at last we have found them,  
And from the bottom unwound them,  
So that each man may found them,  
And laugh at the Old Cause,  
Which was the Ruin and undoing,  
Of King and Kingdoms Laws.   

6.  
Then let's Rout 'em and Flout 'em,  
Who rails at the Succession,  
That would Rout Him whom we so esteem,  
Beyond all Expression;  
Fill Claret, who's for it?  
And let each Bumper go round,  
Who doth bar it, or spare it  
May he with Goat's Horns be Crowned:  
Here's a Health to the Duchess,  
Grant her long Life, Health, and Riches,  
And a Young Prince is all our wishes,  
Whilst all the Factious Repine  
Then come away with't, ne'er stay it,  
Let no man balk his Wine.    

London's Joy and Loyalty On His Royal Highnesses Return from Scotland.  

1.  
Rouse up ye Tories  
Of this Factious Land,  
Now Loyalty  
Hath got the Upperhand:  
The Rabble-rout  
Their Errors shall disclaim,  
And Homage pay  
To York's Illustrious Name;  
The London Mayor  
Is faithful to his Trust,  
And the two present Sh'riffs  
Would fain be counted Just;  
And every Factious Rebel  
Through the Town agree  
To show the height  
Of London's Loyalty.   

2.  
Now the loud Threatening  
Tempest is dispersed,  
And all their shamming Plots  
Are quite reversed;  
Great Jemmy's happy  
Restauration here  
Makes a new day  
In London ●s Hemisphere:  
The Clouds are gone  
That did oppress his Reign,  
And joyful day breaks forth  
In this glad Land again.  
Then to the Mighty Duke  
Of York and Albany  
Now London, London,  
Show thy Loyalty.   

3.  
A Royal Pair  
With their Illustrious Train,  
To London's Joy  
Are now Returned again;  
Great Gracious Charles  
Does in the Front appear,  
And Princely York  
Advances in the Rear;  
The Right Successor  
Is Returned again,  
Whom former Faction  
Sent an Exile o'er the Main,  
Then to the Mighty Duke  
Of York and Albany  
Now London, London  
Show thy Loyalty.   

4.  
Heaven Bless the King,  
Preserve the Lawful Heir,  
Let ●ories Sing,  
And Brimighams' Despair:  
To see Great York  
Invested in his own,  
Spite of all Fop  
Pretenders to the Throne;  
Then Truth and Justice  
Shall our Joys restore;  
Associations shall  
Destroy our Peace no more,  
But to our Gracious King,  
With York and Albany  
All Subjects seek▪  
To show their Loyalty.    

The Tory Song on His Highness Return from Scotland.  
To the Tune of, The Prince of Orange 's Delight.  

1.  
ROom, room for Cavaliers, bring us more Wine,  
His Highness is Landed, about with the Glass;  
The Brimigham-piece is but Counterfeit Coin  
Yet fain for good Sterling among as would pass.  
hay Bowman more Wine,  
Fill up to the Brim;  
While Zealots repine  
We'll frolic and sing;  
For Oats, is confounded,  
That Turn-coated Round-head;  
Then let us be Loyal, and true to our King:   

2.  
A little Old Conjurer threw so much Brass,  
And Pewter and Copper amongst the True Coin  
That hardly a Penny of Money can pass,  
But what is Clipped, Plated, or washed very fine  
But thine Boy, and mine,  
Bears the stamp of the King;  
Then let's have more Wine,  
While good Money we bring;  
John Thum is confounded,  
That Brazenfaced Round-head;  
Then let us be Loyal, and True to our King.   

3.  
With such a Bold, Impudent and Brazen-face  
They'd pass for true Mettle, although but washed o'er;  
The King's Stamp & Image they only disgrace  
As they did their Lord and Creators before;  
But thine Boy, and mine,  
Bears the stamp of the King,  
Then let's have more Wine,  
While good Money we bring;  
For Care is Confounded,  
That Schismatic Round-head;  
Then let us be Loyal, and True to our King.   

4.  
Yet (what is most noted) these Brimigham Elves,  
To bear the true stamp are so brazened with Art,  
That they would have nothing to pass but themselves,  
Although they're but Copper and Gaul at the heart.  
But thine Boy, and mine,  
Bears the stamp of the King,  
Then let's have more Wine,  
While good Sterling we bring;  
For Dick is confounded,  
That Libelling Roundhead,  
Then let us be Loyal, and true to our King.   

5.  
They call themselves Loyal, nay more, love the King  
Yet Royalists, Tory and Papist miscall;  
And rail at all those who stand up for the thing,  
With L'strange, Heraclitus and Thompson, & all  
'Gainst these the Slaves  
Their Libels they fling;  
Yet they are the Knaves,  
That do Libel the King;  
But Langley's confounded,  
That Pamphleting Roundhead;  
Then let us be Loyal, and true to our King.   

6.  
Thus Brimighams' still the Stamp Royal rebukes  
With Brazenfaced Impudence guided so fine  
Who hates the King's Picture as well as the Dukes,  
And loves it in nothing, unless in his Coin;  
But let him still pass  
For a counterfeit thing,  
About with the Glass,  
And merrily sing;  
For Ben is confounded;  
That Cuckoldly Round-head;  
Then let us be Loyal, and true to our King.   

To the King and the Queen, fill it up to the Top.  
The D. & the Duchess, whom Heaven has restored;  
And next, Hans in Kelder, the Royal Blew-Cap;  
To all the true Issue and each Loyal Lord:  
Crown every Glass,  
Fill 'em up to the Brim:  
About let 'em pass,  
While we merrily sing;  
For Baldwin's confounded,  
That impudent Round-head;  
Then let us be Loyal, and true to our King.   

8.  
To brave Albemarle the next we'll pursue,  
With Worster and Clarendon, Seymour, and Hall—  
To all to their King, and their Country are true,  
Who Loyalty love, and confound the Cabal.  
If Monarchy shine,  
And Bowman but bring  
Good store of brisk Wine,  
We'll make the Dog ring;  
For Tony's confounded,  
That Spiggoted Round-head;  
Then let us be Loyal, and true to our King.    

The PLOT Crammed into Jones Placket  
to the Tune of, Jones Placket is torn, etc.  

1.  
HAve you not lately heard  
of Lords sent to the Tower,  
Who 'gainst the Popish Plotters,  
seemed men of chiefest power:  
But now they're got into the Plot,  
and all their power's in vain,  
For the Plot is rend and torn,  
and can never be mended again,  
'Tis rend and torn, and torn and rend,  
and rend and torn in twain:  
For the Plot is rend and torn,  
and will never be mended again.   

2.  
Fitz-Harris they supposed  
a sitting Instrument,  
The Duke, the Queen, and King  
himself to circumvent:  
But now he's hanged and all his Gang  
will follow the same strain,  
For the Plot is rend and torn,  
and will never be mended again, etc.   

3.  
The Joiner he did march  
to Oxford, to be Tried,  
Where he did find a Jury,  
who were not Whiggifyed:  
And for his Joining in the Plot,  
a Halter he did gain,  
For the Plot is rend and torn▪  
and will never be mended again, etc.   

4.  
They say that Mr. Dugdale,  
so honest and so true,  
Is one of the King's Evidence,  
against this wicked Crew:  
And now they aim him to defame,  
but all will be in vain,  
For the Plot is rend and torn,  
and will never be mended again, etc.   

5.  
The crafty Shaftsburyy,  
is caught in his own Snare,  
He has hired many Rogues,  
themselves for to forswear:  
Are now undone, with Hetherington,  
and all his hired Train,  
For the Plot is rend and torn  
and will never be mended again, etc.   

6.  
Thus Innocence we see  
begins for to appear,  
Since Rogues for want of Pardons,  
the Truth are fain to swear:  
Had it been so, some years ago,  
we'd hit on the right vein,  
For the Plot is rend and torn,  
and will never be mended again▪ etc.   

7.  
The pious Commons Vote  
it was a Popish Plot,  
Which Factious Lords promote,  
'twas death to think it not;  
Thus piously they all agree  
a Plot for to maintain,  
But now '●is rent and torn,  
and will never be mended again, etc.   

8.  
Against the Lawful Heir,  
full many a Bill they pass  
Upon the Royal Chair  
to place a gaudy Ass;  
But they may ride toth' Devil astride  
with Noll new Plots to feign,  
For the Plot is rend and torn,  
and will never he mended again, etc.   

9  
When they could rail no more  
of pious Lords and Peers,  
To set them as before  
together by the Ears;  
To Shrives and Mayor they made this Prayer,  
they would the Plot maintain,  
But now 'tis rend and torn,  
and will never be mended again, etc.   

10.  
Brave Rich and Famous North,  
(whom Factions did oppose)  
For Loyalty and Worth,  
The Noble Mayor has chose,  
Who hand in hand will faithful stand  
to Royal Charles' Reign,  
For the Plot is rend and torn,  
and will never be mended again.  
'Tis rend and torn, and torn and rend;  
and rend and torn in twain.  
For the Plot is rend and torn,  
and will never be mended again.    

The Happy return of the Old Dutch Miller.  
To the Tune of the First.  

1.  
GOod People of England I hope you have had  
Experience of my Art in my Trade;  
For I am the Miller that was here before,  
That ground Women young, of four or five Score.  
Then make haste Customers, bring in your Tribes;  
I'll quickly dispatch them without any Bribes.  
For I am so Zealous for Whiglanders' Crew  
I'll cure their Distempers with one Turn or Two.   

2.  
And now (for your comfort) I am come again  
To cure the defection amongst all your Men;  
Whether they be Factious, Stupid or Lame;  
Let's see e'er a Chemist that can do the same.  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

3.  
If you have e'er a City that's troubled with Simples;  
That's over-rich grown, and has Rebellious pimples  
I'll strip it of all these defects in an hour,  
And make it submit to the King or the Tower.  
Then come away Customers, etc.   

4.  
If any pretending Whig Sheriffs yet dare,  
(In the year of his Office) Arrest the Lord Mayor;  
Let them come to my Mill, if their Insolence must  
Be taken a Peg lower, I'll Grind them to Dust  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

5.  
If any Grave Alderman Perjures and Swears,  
Till he runs the great hazard of losing his Ears.  
Let him bring but his Toll, and to cover his Shame  
I'll hide him i'th' Hopper, and Dip him i'th' Dam▪  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

6.  
If any Hot Zealots, or Turbulent Cits,  
With Tumults & Riots run out of their Wits;  
For the Toll I'll so Tame 'em, that they shall be all  
Like Flour of Patience, I'll Grind 'em so small.  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

7.  
If you have e'er a Fop that's proud of a String,  
And fain would aspire to the Throne of a King  
Bring him to my Mill, I will presently show  
If he's qualified for a Monarch, or no.  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

8.  
If you have e'er a Lord that's a Pimp to's Wife,  
And to hide his Horns would venture his Life:  
Send her to my Mill. I'll venture a Trial,  
To make Her as Honest as ere He was Loyal.  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

9  
If you have e'er a Slabbering Lord that's a Fool,  
And sits in Cabals 3 Kingdoms to Rule,  
And stands for a Statesman, I'll make him as able  
As ever a Helper in all his own Stable  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

10.  
If you have e'er a Lord that used to Preach  
I'●h' top of a Crab Tree, above all your reach,  
And still the Lords Super exposed in Lamb's wool:  
send him to my Mill, I'll Reform his Skull:  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

11.  
If you have ●'re a Knight that's a Knave and Threadbare,  
That deals in Necklaces and such kind of ware:  
And stole the best Plot, now hides it in Bristol:  
Bring him to my Mill, I'll make him confess't all.  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

12.  
If you have, or had, any Sheriffs that are Whigs,  
That have cut off some Heads, and are cutting off Legs.  
Bring them, and their Perjured Juries together,  
I'll turn 'em all round in my Mill with the Wether.  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

13.  
If you have e'er a Doctor that has ne'er a Mouth,  
But a Hole in the place for a Nose, Nor. & South  
Put him to my Mill, I shall make him speak sense  
Behind and before, like a Quaker in Trance.  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

14.  
If He has been Perjured ten thousand times o'er,  
And for want of Employment begins to grow poor;  
I'll make him as Rich (if he knows his own Name)  
As when he came Mumping from Flanders or Spain.  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

15.  
If Forty Religions he dares to Believe,  
And yet Preacheth Blasphemy Fools to deceive:  
Bring him to my Mill, with more of the Grist,  
I'll make him a Devil, a Man or a Beast.  
Then make haste Customers, etc.   

16.  
If you have any Plots, either Shame ones or True ones,  
Bring out the Contrivers, both black ones & ble● ones.  
I'll either Refine 'em from all their past Ill,  
Or else I will strangle them All in my MILL.  
Then make haste Customers, bring in your Tribes,  
I'll quickly dispatch them without any Bribes;  
For I am so Zealous for Whiglanders' Crew,  
I'll cure their Distempers with one Turn or two.    

A Congratulation on the Happy Discovery of the Hellish Fanatic Plot.  
Tune, Now, now the Fight's done.  

1.  
COme now let's rejoice, and the City Bells ring,  
And the Bonfires kindle, whilst unto the King▪  
We pay on our knees the grand tribute that's due,  
Of thanks and oblation, which now we renew,  
For Mercies that we have received of late,  
From Prudence and Justice diverting our Fate.   

2.  
The Curtain is drawn, and the Clouds are dispersed;  
The Plot's come to light, that in darkness did nest,  
Jack Calvin's displayed with his Colours in grain:  
And who were the Traitors and Villains 'tis plain:  
The Traps that they laid, and the snares that they set,  
Have caught them at last in their own silly Net   

3.  
The Foreman himself, that offspring of Hell,  
In whose wicked Breast all Treason doth dwell,  
To the Tower was sent, with his Triple Name,  
Whilst the Triple-tree groans for his Carcase again,  
And many Rogues more their Leader will follow  
Unto the same place, whilst we whoop and hollow.   

4.  
The Libelling tribe that so long have reigned  
And sowed Sedition, shall now be Arraigned;  
Their sham's and their Lies shall do them no good,  
When they come to the tree, there's no shamming that wood:  
Janway and Curtis in the forlorn hope,  
Then Vile, Smith and Care shall neck the next Rope.   

5  
So, so, let them die that would Monarches destroy,  
And spit all their Venom our Land to annoy:  
If that their Pow●r were to their Malice equal,  
And their Courage the same, they'd soon ruin all▪  
But their Courage is low, and their Power but small;  
Their Treason is High, and must have a Fall.   

6.  
When Trojans of old (our Ancestors) were  
In danger of Shipwreck, & tossed here & there  
Great Neptune soon quelled those Rebels and Storms,  
With brandished trident, and freed them from harms;  
They ●led from his Face, through guilt of their Cause,  
As these from our Lion, if he stretch out his paws.   

7.  
Go Devils, be gone to the Region below,  
Here's no business of yours, or aught left to do:  
No Tempter we need, we can act all ourselves,  
Without any help from you silly Elve●;  
For what Presbyter act, he thinks a disgrace  
All Hell should outdo him, or dare show their face.   

8.  
For produce all the ill that Hell ever hatched,  
'Tis nothing at all, when it comes to be matched  
With what has been Plotted by Traitors of late,  
Who aimed at the Ruin of Church, and of State:  
By Perjury, Bribes, by suborning all Evil,  
By Murder, and worse Than e'er came from the Devil.   

9  
Now Presbyter come and submit thy stiff Neck,  
Thou labourest in vain our great Monarch to check;  
Whose Power Divine no Mortals control,  
But hazard the loss of both Body and Soul:  
Then banish for ever your Commonwealth hope,  
Which tends to destruction, and ends in a Rope.   

Epilogue.  
With Wine of all sorts let the Conduits run free,  
And each true heart drink the K's Health on his knee:  
No Treason shall lodge in our breasts while we live,  
To God, and to Caesar their Due we will give;  
We'll pray with our hearts, and fight with our hands,  
Against all Fanat. when great Charles commands.    

The Loyal Sheriffs of London and Midlesex. Upon their Election.  
Tune, Now at last the Riddle, etc.  

1.  
NOw at last the Matter is decided,  
Which so long the Nation has divided;  
Misguided  
By Interest and blind Zeal,  
Which so well in Forty four they Acted;  
Now with greater heat,  
They again act o'er like Men Distracted,  
To give to Monarchy a new defeat.   

2.  
Famous North, of Noble Birth and Breeding,  
And in Loyal Principles Exceeding;  
Is pleading  
To stand his Country's Friend,  
To do Justice to the King and Nation,  
Some so much oppose,  
To renew the work of REFORMATION,  
And carry on again the Good Old Cause▪   

3.  
Next Renowned Box as high commended,  
And of Loyal Parentage Descended;  
Intended  
To do the City Right,  
With true Courage, and firm Resolution,  
He the Hall Adorns;  
But the Heads were all in a Confusion:  
Such●d in there was & a rattling with their Horns:   

4.  
Prick up Ears, and push for one another,  
Let not Box (an old Malignant) Brother;  
Nor ' ●other  
Our Properties command,  
He's a Kings-man, North is nothing better,  
They walk Hand in Hand  
He you know is the Lord Mayor's Creature:  
And therefore 'tis not sit that they should stand▪   

5.  
Where are now our Liberties and Freedom?  
Where shall we find Friends when we should  
To bleed 'em  
And pull the Tory's down,  
To push for our Interest, who can blame us?  
Sheriffs rule the Town,  
When we lose our Darling IGNORAMUS:  
We lose the Combat, and the day's their own:   

6.  
Then let every Man stand by his Brother,  
Poll o'er ten times, Poll for one another;  
What a Pother  
You see the Tory's make,  
Now or never, now to save your Charter,  
Or your Hearts will ache,  
If it goes for them expect no Quarter:  
If Law and Justice rule, our heels must shake:   

7.  
Rout, a Rout, join Apprentice, Boar and Peasant,  
Let the Whitehall Party call it Treason,  
'Tis Treason  
We should our Necks Defend,  
Routs and Riots, Tumults and Sedition,  
Poll 'em o'er again,  
These do best agree with our Condition;  
If Monarchy prevail, we're all lost men.   

8.  
The Lord Mayor is Loyal in his Station,  
Alas what will become o'th' Reformation;  
O'th' Nation  
If the Sheriffs be Loyal too?  
Wrangle, Brangle, huff and keep a Clatter;  
If we lose the Field,  
Poll 'em o'er again, it makes no matter:  
For tho' we lose the Day, we scorn to Yield.   

9  
Ten for Box, and Twenty for Papillion,  
North a Thousand, and Dubois a Million:  
What Villain  
Our Interest dare oppose?  
With those Noble Patriots thus they sided,  
To uphold the Cause;  
But the good Lord Mayor the case decided:  
And once again two Loyal Worthies Chose.   

10.  
Noble North, and Famous Box promoted,  
By due Course and Legal Choice allotted;  
They Voted  
To be the City Sheriffs  
And may they both to London's Commendation,  
Her Ancient Rights restore,  
To do that Justice to the King and Nation,  
Which former Factions have denied before.    

Loyalty Triumphant, on the Confirmation of Mr. North and Mr. Rich, Sheriffs of London and Middlesex.  
Tune, Joy to the Bridegroom.  

1.  
FIll up the Bowl, and set it round,  
The day is won, the Sheriffs crowned;  
The Rabble flies, the Tumults yield;  
And Loyalty maintains the Field;  
Saint George for England, then amain,  
To Royal CHARLES this Ocean drain▪   

2.  
With Justice may it ever flow,  
And in an endless Circle go;  
The brim with conquering Bays be crowned,  
And Faction in the Dregs lie drowned:  
Then to the QVEEN, and Royal James,  
Sacrifice your flowing Thames.   

3.  
Thanks to Sir John, our good Lord Mayor,  
'Gainst Sheriffs Tricks He kept the Chair;  
The Court and City's Right maintains,  
While head strong Faction broke the Reins:  
Then to the famous Sir John Moor,  
May after-Age that Name adore.   

4.  
What Zeal (ye Whigs) to the Old Cause.  
Thus makes you act against the LAWS;  
That none for Sheriff must contend,  
But your old IGNORAMUS Friend?  
But now, your hopes are all destroyed,  
And your two Champions laid aside.   

5.  
Is this your love to Church and State,  
That no good man must serve of late,  
While you can find one Factious Rogue,  
To sway the Poll, and get your Vogue?  
By unjust means your Rights you claim,  
And lawless Force maintain the same.   

6  
But brave Sir John, while th'storms increase,  
His Wisdom made the Tumults cease;  
In spite of all Illegal Poll,  
The Routs and Riots did control:  
Whence He shall gain a lasting Name,  
And after-Age Record His Fame.   

7  
Amongst the Men of chiefest worth,  
The Vote is given for Loyal NORTH,  
In spite of Pilkington and Shute,  
Papilion, and the Rabble Rout:  
Then to brave NORTH a double Dose,  
Who the strong Factions did oppose.   

8.  
Now BOX withdraws, Dubois contends,  
And Noble RICH the Stage ascends;  
By Legal ('gainst Illegal) Vote,  
The Loyal Tribune they promote:  
Then to brave RICH a Health off hand,  
Who the loud Tumults did withstand.   

9  
For Ropes and Gibbets the next year,  
The Whigs we hope) need not despair;  
If Rich find TIMBER, (give them scope)  
Brave North will never grudge them ROPE:  
Then, to conclude, we'll crown the Bowl  
With a Health to th● K. and each Loyal Soul.    

London's Joy and Triumph, on the Instalment of Sir William Pritchard L. Mayor for the ensuing year.  
Tune, Tangier March:  

1.  
LEt the Whigs revile,  
The Tories Smile,  
That their business is Completed,  
Let all Rejoice  
With Heart and Voice,  
That the Whigs at last defeated.  
The Whigs for Loyalty so Famed,  
With all their Hopes are Undone;  
Since now brave Pritchard is Proclaimed  
The Loyal Mayor of London.   

2.  
You Polish Brace  
Whose Brazen Face,  
To the Chair would be Aspiring,  
See the Rabble Crowd  
Who Polled so Loud;  
Are bawked beyond Admiring;  
Learn in time to mitigate  
Your bold Tumultuous Fury,  
Ere you shall find, you trust too late,  
To Ignoramus Jury.   

3.  
Let Player Tom  
Receive the Doom,  
So long due for his Cheating,  
Who did purloyn  
The City Coin,  
To keep up Holy Meeting;  
To Rob the Orphan, and the Poor.  
His great Discharge of Trust is,  
And run upon the Widows Score,  
To do the City Justice.   

4.  
Let Ward Repent,  
And Jenks Relent,  
Their Practice so malicious,  
Let Hobland rue  
With all the Crew,  
That they were so Officious;  
Such Jews as these, who did deny  
Their Saviour for a Tester,  
No doubt again would Crucify  
Their Sovereign Lord and Master.   

5.  
For North and Rich,  
And every such,  
They set up a Papillion;  
'Gainst Pritchard hold,  
With Cornish, Gold,  
With Riot and Rebellion:  
To love the King can you pretend,  
Who Royalists deny all;  
And with such Vigour dare contend,  
Against the Man that's Loyal.   

6.  
For shame in time  
Repent your Crime  
Your Riot and Commotion;  
And to the Mayor,  
Who kept the Chair,  
Pay all your just Devotion;  
Such was their Loyalty of late,  
To give the King no Money:  
But freely throw away their Plate,  
To join with Rebel Tony.   

7.  
Thus you before  
Did run on score  
With Royal Charles your Master;  
Like Drunk or mad  
Spent all you had  
To uphold a bold Imposture:  
Let not Knaves again betray,  
And rob you of your Reason,  
Then leave your Factious Heads to pay  
The forfeit of your Treason.   

8.  
With all your heat  
What did you get?  
With all your din and quarter;  
But to involve  
With each Resolve  
The more entangled Charter?  
To Charles your just Allegiance give,  
Your Properties, then plead 'em,  
Defending the Prerogative,  
You best protect your Freedom.    

Riot upon Riot; or a SONG upon the Arresting the Loyal Lord Mayor and Sheriffs.  
Tune, Burton Hall.  

1.  
Rouse up Great Monarch  
In the Royal Cause;  
The Great Defender  
Of our Faith and Laws:  
Now, now, or never,  
Crush the Serpent's Head,  
Or else the Poison▪  
Through the Land will spread.  
The Noble Mayor,  
And his two Loyal Sherieves,  
Bearing the Sword's, assaulted  
By Usurping Thiefs,  
Who their Rebellious Riots  
Would maintain by Law:  
Oh! London! London!  
Where's thy Justice now?   

2.  
Smite, smite, the Snakes  
Did first their Sting reveal,  
Stabbing thy Royal  
Brother in the Heel;  
And struck so many  
Loyal Martyr's dead,  
Now in the Sun  
Flies boldly at the Head.  
Slaves that resist  
All Power but their own;  
He that would usurp the Chair,  
Would next usurp the Throne,  
Who neither Royal Heir  
Nor Loyal Mayors allow:  
Oh! London! London!  
Where's thy Charter now?   

3.  
London, of Faction's  
The eternal Spring,  
Yet so much favoured  
By a Gracious King;  
Who does such Deeds  
That have no parallel,  
Only to teach  
Thy Children to Rebel.  
This will record thee  
In the Books of Fame;  
This bold Attempt no Law,  
Nor Precedent can claim:  
Blood and the Crown, Papillion  
And Dubois outdo:  
Oh! London! London!  
Where's thy Charter now?   

4.  
Was this the way  
Your Riots to repair;  
In spite o●th Charter,  
To Arrest the Mayor?  
And 'gainst the Sh'riffs  
Your shame Actions bring,  
'Cause justly chosen,  
And approved by th' King?  
What call you this, but Treason?  
Whilst the Fool  
That did Arrest the Mayor  
Expects himself to Rule;  
And, save his own, no other  
Power would allow:  
Oh! London! London!  
Where's thy Charter now?   

5.  
Hang up the Factious Heads  
That dare oppose  
The Sword of Justice,  
And the Ancient Laws:  
Who in his Office  
Dare Arrest the Mayor,  
Disowns the Power  
That placed Him in the Chair.  
Tantara rara!  
Let the Trumpets sound,  
Double all your Guards▪ and let  
The Cent'nels stand their ground:  
He that Arrests the Mayor,  
Would bind the Monarch too:  
Oh! London! London!  
Where's thy Charter now?    

London's Lamentation for the loss of their Charter.  
Tune, Packington's Pound.  

1.  
YOu Freemen, and Masters, and Prentices mourn,  
For now You are left with your Charter forlorn:  
Since London was London, I dare boldly say,  
For your Riots you never so dearly did pay;  
In Westminster-hall  
Your Dagon did fall,  
That caused You to Riot and Mutiny all:  
Oh London! Oh London! Thou'dst better had none,  
Than thus with thy Charter to vie with the Throne.   

2.  
Oh London! Oh London! how couldst Thou pretend  
Against thy Defender Thy Crimes to defend?  
Thy Freedoms and Rights from kind Princes did spring,  
And yet in contempt thou withstandest Thy King:  
With bold brazen Face  
They pleaded Thy Case,  
In hopes to the Charter the King would give place:  
Oh London! Thou'dst better no Charter at all,  
Than thus for Rebellion thy Charter should fall.   

3.  
Since Britain's to London came over to dwell,  
You had an old Charter, to buy and to sell;  
And whilst in Allegiance each honest man lives,  
Than you had a Charter for Lord Mayor and Sheriffs:  
But when, with Your Pride,  
You began to backslide,  
And London of Factions did run w'th ' Tide▪  
Then London, Oh London! 'tis time to withdraw,  
Lest the flood of Your Factions the Land overflow.   

4.  
When Faction and fury of Rebels prevailed;  
When Cobblers were Kings, & Monarches were jayled;  
When Masters in Tumults their Prentices led,  
And the Tail did begin to make war with the Head;  
When Thomas and Kate  
Did bring in their Plate,  
T'uphold the Old Cause of the Rump of the State  
Then tell me, Oh London! I prithee now tell,  
Hadst thou e'er a Charter to Fight and Rebel?   

5.  
When zealous Shame Sheriffs the City oppose,  
In spite of the Charter, the King, and the ●aws,  
And make such a Riot and Rout in the Town,  
That never before such a Racket was known;  
When Ryoters dare  
Arrest the Lord mayor,  
And force the King's Substitute out of the Chair  
Oh London! whose Charter is now on the Lees,  
Did Your Charter e'er warrant such actions as these?   

6.  
Alas for the Brethren! what now must they do,  
For choosing Whig-Sheriffs and Burgesses too?  
The Charter with Patience is gone to the pot,  
And the Doctor is lost in the depth of the Plot:  
St. Stephen his flail  
No more will prevail,  
Nor Sir Robert's Dagger, the Charter to bail:  
Oh London! Thou'dst better have lain in the Fire,  
Then thus thy old Charter should stick in the Mire.   

7.  
But since with your Folly, your Faction and Pride,  
You sink with the Charter, who strove with the Tide,  
Let all the lost Rivers return to the Main  
From whence they descended; They'll spring out again;  
Submit to the King  
In every thing,  
Then of a New Charter New Sonnets we'll sing:  
As London, (the Phoenix of England,) ne'er dies,  
So out of the Flames a new Charter will rise.    

The Wine-Coop●rs Delight,  
Tune of The Delights of the Bottle.  

THe Delights of the Bottle are turned out of doors,  
By Factious Fanatical sons of damned Whores.  
French Wines Prohibition, meant no other thing  
But to Poison the Subject▪ & beggar the King.  
Good Nature's suggested with Dregs like to choke her,  
Of fulsome stumed Wine by the cursed Wine- Cooper   

Our plaguy Wine- Cooper has tampered so much,  
To find out the subtlety of the false Dutch.  
He tinctures pricked White- wine, that never was good,  
Till it mantles, and sparkles & looks like Bull's blood:  
But when it declines, and its Spirits expire,  
He adds more Ingredients, and makes it look higher   

His old rotten Pipes where he keeps all his Trash  
For fear they should burst▪ Sir, he hoops them with Ash.  
When the Sophistication begins for to froth,  
And boils on the Fret, Sir, he wisely pulls forth  
A Tap, which gives vent to the grounds of the Cause,  
And then is to vamp up a second Red Nose.   

Then this dingy Wine-Cooper stops it up again,  
And keeps it unvented till 'tis all on a flame.  
The Intelligences than were invented to show,  
Where Wine of strange Virtues in plenty did flow.  
People from all parts of the Nation did come,  
Both Lords, Knights and Gentlemen, Doctor & Bum.   

The Cooper then pulls the Tap out of his side,  
And drinks to the Elders of all the good Tribe.  
But when they had gus●'d about all the Bowls,  
They found a strange freedom it gave to their Souls  
Of secrets in Nature that never were known,  
It gave Inspiration from Beggar to Throne.   

For the Cooper himself full Brimmers did draw,  
And all the whole Gang were obliged to do so.  
Amongst these Gabals there was no such thing,  
As a Health once proposed to the D. or the King.  
But drank to that Idol of Hopes in their Powers.  
And Sons of most Infamous Hackney old Whores.   

Then the Rabble had notice from Smith and from Ben  
What a Heavenly Liquor was sent amongst men.  
Both Tinkers and Cobblers the Broom men and Sweep,  
Before this Wine-Cooper in Flocks they did meet;  
And each underfoot stamped his old greasy Bonnet  
To drink M—th's Health, Boys, whatever come on it.   

The Cooper preceiving his Trade to approach,  
He then was resolved once more to debauch.  
To encourage the Rabble, and show himself stout,  
He pulled out the Spigot amongst the whole Rout  
Which kindness provoked them to swear they would bring  
Such a Trade to his House as would make him a King.   

A Hat or a Bottle was still at the Tap;  
But Zealots sometimes laid their Mouths to the Fat.  
They charged their brisk Bumpers so many times round,  
Till part of the Mobile sprawled on the ground:  
But when this damned Liquor was get in their Pates,  
They fell to Bombasting, Disord'ring of States.   

They began to cant Dangers by formal Sedition  
And swear lawful Allegiance ' against lawful Succession.  
When these Propositions began to take Fire,  
They screwed their Presumptions a hole or two higher;  
But still they keep under Hugh Peters' Cloak,  
To bring in the Devil, to drive out the Pope.   

But then they began for to pick at the Crown  
Each thinking that he deserved one of his own.  
Then all the King's Guards they thought fit to Indict,  
Swear Treason ' 'gainst all that maintained the King's Right.  
Both Papists and Protestants no matter whether,  
They are not of our party, let's hang 'em together,   

Next the chief of our Game is to keep the King poor,  
And our Senators must the Militia secure.  
The Navy & Cinque-ports we'll have in our hands,  
And then we'll make th' Kingdom obey our Commands.  
Then if Charles do withstand us, we need not to fight,  
To make Eighty one to outdo Forty eight.   

What ever Objections great Loyalists bring,  
Old Adam lived happy without e'er a King.  
Then why may not we, that are much wiser than he,  
Subdue the whole World, Sir, by our Sovereignty:  
If one man alone can keep three Nations under,  
Then why may not We that are Kings without number?   

Right, said the Cooper, & shaked his old Noddle,  
Three Kingdoms we'll toss, like a Child in a Cradle  
Stick close to this Liquor which I do prepare,  
'Twill make us as splendid as Noll in his Chair,  
We'll kindle old Plots, by contriving of new,  
Till none shall be safe but the Cooper and You.   

O brave Boys! O brave Boys! the Rabble did roar.  
Tantivies and Tories shall Hector no more;  
By Us they're out-acted, to Us they shall bend,  
Whilst we to our Dignities freely ascend,  
Then they were dead-drunk as the Devil could make 'em.  
And fell fast asleep, as ten Drums could not wake 'em.   

In the Piss and the Spew the poor Cooper did paddle,  
To stop up his Tap, but the Knave was not able.  
For his Limbs like a Tortoise did shriule & crease,  
Down drops the Wine-Cooper with the other Beasts  
And there the whole Litter as yet doth abide,  
At the Sign of the Butt, with the Tap in his side.    

A Song upon the King Poland, and the Prince o' the Land of Promise.  
Tune, Hold fast thy Crown and Sceptre, Charles  

1. Prince.  
O Poland Monster of our Isle,  
Corruption of our Age;  
Which on my Infant Hours didst smile,  
Till thou inflam'dst the Rage  
Of my Ambitious Soul, to sore  
Above its defiled Sphere;  
And, Icarus-like, I now must lower,  
Transformed into Despair.   

2.  
Now all my Trophies of Success,  
Are in Oblivion drowned;  
And none for Me dare now Address,  
Where I hoped to be Crowned▪  
ay by thy false blind Plots am shamed,  
Fooled from a Glorious sway,  
Snatched from a Father's Arms, and Damned,  
Like all that Disobey   

3.  
Thou called'st my nearest Friends at Court,  
Soft, easy, abusurd Tools,  
That Kings were but for Sates-Men's Sport,  
The Council Knaves and Fools.  
But I, poor I, find now too late,  
Your Polish Grace can lie;  
None prov●d more weak at the foils of State,  
Than poor silly Tom, and I.   

4.  
Now, that Imperial Crown▪ which thou  
For me so fit hadst made,  
Is fallen and broke, I know not how,  
And all our Wiles betrayed;  
Our full Cabals, and Wapping-Treats,  
Retrenched to secret Holes:  
Treason the strength Our Greatness waits  
In these rough reared Walls.   

5 Poland.  
Thou mighty Prince, by me Elect,  
I'th' Land of Promise Sways▪  
Thy timorous Soul is the defect  
Of our declining Days.  
What brighter Prospect canst propose,  
To Magnify thy Name,  
Than H●arts, and Arms, and Power of Those,  
That Rule both Law and Fame.   

6.  
The Rustic Swains want not the Word,  
No Magazines, nor Horse;  
'Zwounds Sixty Thousand by the Sword,  
Defy both Fate and Curse.  
They'll lay three Kingdoms at our Feet,  
In Blood and mangled Brains▪  
Then the Train-Bands, Cinque-Ports, and Fleet,  
At our Command remains.   

7.  
Though Rowley, and his Brother Joyns,  
And ●heel's around the Park;  
Like two Yoked Oxen, Tugs and Twines,  
'Gainst our Designs i'th' Dark,  
And wisely weighs; Their Wits have wrought  
Our Potent Parties Fall;  
That Conquest must be dearer bought,  
Else Tony Hangs for all.   

7.  
We have reserved Machine's in store,  
To raise more daring Flames,  
Then Morals 'ere Conspired before;  
Or Damned Furies Frames.  
If e'er a Parliament be called,  
Our Representatives there  
Shall Scorn to be out-boxed, or bawled,  
In Country, Town, or Shire.   

9  
Then every Member of the Cause,  
Amidst the Rabble Rude,  
Who shall decide the Poll with blows,  
And quash the Tory Crowd.  
Then stick to Time, whilst Heads are hot,  
Our Force together brings:  
If this best PLOT, at last fail not,  
By Christ, we'●l Both be Kings!    

The Hunting of the Fox.  
Tune, Now the Tories that Glories, etc.  

HAy Jouler, Ringwood, and Towzer,  
Ho smoker, Drunkard, and Fly;  
Sweet-lips, Lightfoot, and Bowzer;  
Brave Bowman, Lofty, and Cry;  
And four and twenty brave Couple,  
To make a Pack for the Downs,  
Sure footed, and your Limbs supple;  
The Scent's hot yet on the Grounds.  
The Old White Fox is got loose again;  
We think he's gone to catch Goose again:  
His Cub● they sculk and desert amain.  
Come let●s beleaguer their Holes:  
For they're passed Evil; to th' Devil  
We'll send 'em with threadbare Souls.   

2.  
They have left the City, 'tis pity,  
And their damned Party i'th' Lurch:  
If to be Hanged, 'twould be pretty,  
For Treason 'gainst King and Church.  
For Cinque-ports, Venus and Juno;  
For Champion, Thunder and Spark;  
Let Swift beat for Caralino,  
And Noser wind 'em i'th' dark.  
Like Wasps and Flies, they would bite us;  
As Wolves do Sheep, they would treat us;  
Like Crockadiles, they would eat us;  
They thirst for Innocent Blood:  
Then never scruple, but grapple  
For King and Country's Good.   

3.  
Round the Dimension oh th' Nation,  
Beat all the Banks on the Shore;  
And some leap o'er the main Ocean,  
If they are gone before.  
O surround 'em, confound 'em,  
From Seaport to City-Walls;  
If there they venture to shelter,  
'Zounds tear them out of their Holes:  
For making Church into Stables,  
And vamping Kings up of Baubles,  
And foregoing Plots out of Fables,  
And seizing Kings in a trice;  
That the crooked Piper might vapour  
Like Rat amongst Fifteen Mice.   

4.  
Scour the Globe to the Axels,  
From Pole to Pole; then retire,  
And centre at Mother Creswels,  
The Fox used to Harbour there:  
There, there both Wives, Whores and Virgins,  
He had them all at his Call,  
T'oblige his Captains and Surgeons,  
Till better Occasions fall.  
At Oxford late all his Cubs and He,  
To the Exclusion did all agree;  
Could not budge further, till signed and free.  
Yet Rowley roused the Rump,  
And sent 'em all to Peg Trantams;  
And Tapsky's worn to the Stump.   

5.  
Oh, Swift's returned, and Noser,  
Their Hoofs are battered with Greet:  
The Game shows by the Opposer,  
He's lodged in Aldersgate-Street.  
Come ring a Peal with a Courage,  
The Grains o'th' Tap makes a Train;  
He lurks in Hole to make Forage  
Of all that uses his Name.  
We'll fetch him out with Mandamus,  
And hang him with Ignoramus;  
There's none but Rebels can blame us:  
More Pardons let him not hope;  
For all his Squinting and Blinking,  
He must to th'Hatchet or Rope.    

Dagon's Fall.  
Tune, Philander, etc.  

1.  
AH Cruel Bloody Fate!  
What canst thou now do more?  
Alas! 'tis now too late  
Poor Toney to restore:  
Why should the flattering Fates persuade,  
That Toney still should live,  
In England here,  
Or in Holland there,  
Yet all our hopes deceive?   

2.  
A Noble Peer He was,  
And of Notorious Fame;  
But now He's gone (alas!)  
A Pilgrim o'er the Main:  
The Prop and Pillar of our hope  
The Patron of our cause,  
The Scorn and Hate  
Of Church and State,  
The Urchin of the Laws.   

3.  
Of matchless Policy  
Was this Renowned Peer,  
The bane of Monarchy,  
The People's Hope and Fear,  
The Joy of all True Protestants,  
The Tories Scorn and Dread;  
But now He's gone  
Who cursed the Throne,  
Alas! poor Toney's dead.   

4.  
For Commonwealth he stood,  
Pretending Liberty;  
And for the Public Good  
Would pull down Monarchy:  
The Church and State he would divorce,  
The Holy Cause to wed:  
And in time did hope  
To confound the Pope,  
To be himself the Head.   

5.  
A Tap in's side he bore,  
To broach all sorts of Ill,  
For which Seditious Store  
The Crowd adored him still:  
He spit his Venom through the Town,  
With which the Saints possessed,  
Would preach and prate  
'Gainst Church and State,  
While He performed the rest.   

6.  
When any change of State  
Or Mischief was at hand,  
He had a working Pate,  
And Devil at command:  
He forged a Plot, for which the Heads  
Of Faction gave their Votes;  
But now the Plot  
Is gone to pot,  
What will become of Oats?   

7.  
Under the fair pretence  
Of Right, Religion, Law,  
Excluding the True Prince,  
The Church would overthrow:  
With such Religious sham's he brought  
The Rabble on his side;  
And, for his sport,  
The Town and Court  
In Parties would divide.   

8.  
Now what's become of all  
His squinting Policy,  
Which wrought your Dagon●s Fall,  
From Justice forced to fly?  
Old and Decrepit, full of pains▪  
As he of Gild was full:  
He fell to Fate,  
And now (too late)  
He leaves us to condole.   

9  
Now, learn ye Whigs in time,  
By his deserved fall,  
To expiate his Crime,  
ere Fate revenge you all;  
For Rights, Religion, Liberty,  
Are but the Sham-pretence  
To Anarchy;  
But Loyalty  
Obeys the Lawful Prince:    

Hue-and-Song after Patience Ward.  
Tune, Hail to the Myrtle Shades.  

1.  
HAil to London fair Town,  
All hail to the Mayor and the Shrieves;  
Hail to the Scarlet Gown,  
Whose Sentence our Patience grieves:  
Justice and Law hath prevailed,  
With Patience a Verdict to find,  
find Patience, whose Conscience failed;  
Oh Patience! why art so blind?   

2.  
Patience, the joy of the Town,  
The comfort and hope of the Crowd;  
Patience, who got renown,  
By Perjury, Lies and Fraud:  
Patience who ne'er had the Heart  
His Sovereign's Rights to maintain;  
But Patience he had the Art  
To Swear and Forswear again.   

3.  
Patience for Church and for State,  
And Patience for Meetings by stealth;  
Patience, who would translate  
The State to a Commonwealth:  
Whose Zeal has his Patience betrayed,  
To lie for the Saints in distress;  
Nay, tho' he●s Forsworn, ('tis said,)  
He Swore he could do no less.   

4.  
Patience, whose Zeal did contrive  
The Monument Figures and Spire,  
That while there's a Papist alive  
We may not forget the Fire:  
The Pillory now is his Lot,  
He has raised such a flame with his Crew,  
That London is now too hot;  
Oh Patience! where art thou now?   

5.  
Patience for Zeal to the Cause,  
Did preach to the Captives in Goal▪  
Patience, with great applause,  
Gave large to an Hospital:  
To Use now his Money may lend,  
For Pomfret he'll never more stand,  
Nor Warrants for Thompson send,  
T'please Titus o'th' Perjured Band.   

6.  
Patience with Choler of Brass,  
To woeful Disasters did fall;  
Patience with Copper Face,  
And a Conscience worse than all;  
To Holland, to Holland he goes;  
For plainly now it appears,  
That (in spite of all Whiggish Laws,)  
Ignoramus can't save his Ears.   

7.  
Some say that the Saints may not Swear,  
But Lie even as much as they can;  
Yet Patience in spite on's Ears,  
Will Swear and Forswear again:  
That Patience should be so far lost,  
Alas! who with Patience can hear?  
That a Saint should be Knight o'th' Post,  
And an Elder without an Ear.   

8.  
Let every good Subject with Me,  
Who Patience a Virtue doth praise,  
Lest he fall into Perjury,  
With Patience pray for Grace.  
But now I with Patience have done,  
Lest with Patience I keep such a Rout,  
That astray more with Patience run,  
And weary your Patience out.    

A new SONG on the Arrival of Prince George, and his Intermarriage with the Lady Anne.  
Tune, Old Jemmy.  

1.  
PRince George at last is come,  
Fill every man his Bumper;  
For the Valiant Dane make room,  
Confusion to each Rumper,  
And every prodigal starched Fool  
Aspires unto a Crown,  
By hopes of Plotting Knaves to Rule,  
Who next would pull Him down.   

2.  
Preserve Great Charles our King,  
And His Illustrious Brother  
Whilst Whigs in Halters swing,  
And hang up one another:  
The joyful Bridegroom and the Bride,  
Prince George of Royal Race,  
Of all the Swains the Joy and Pride,  
The subject of their ●ays.   

3.  
Brave George He is a Lad  
With all Perfections shining;  
With every Virtue clad,  
And every Grace refining:  
But oh! of such a warlike Race,  
So Conquering are his Charms,  
No Mars in Field, but must give place  
To His Victorious Arms.   

4.  
Brave George, Great Denmark's Son,  
(A stout and warlike Nation)  
By Birth to England's Crown  
A near and dear Relation;  
But now the Knot is doubly tied,  
Which makes him still more near,  
The Knot which Knaves would have destroyed,  
By cutting off the Heir.   

5.  
But now the Tribe's dispersed,  
Their Projects are defeated,  
Which Walcot and the rest  
Did hope to have completed:  
And now they'll pay for all their scores,  
Who for that Interest stood,  
And let 'em hang for Sons of Whores,  
Who thirst for Royal Blood.   

6  
Poor Perkin! where's the hope  
Of all thy high promoting?  
Now, Bully Tom, a Rope  
Must crown thy Cheats and Plotting:  
Let Ferguson with Grace escape,  
They safe are ev'ry-where,  
If Murder, Treason, Lust and Rape  
Can pass unpunished here.   

7.  
Let M— for a Crown,  
That hopeful Prince so Loyal,  
Away with Rebels run,  
To raise an Army-Royal:  
Brave George for England scorns to fly,  
Old Jemmy stout as He,  
Their Plots and Malice we defy,  
And all their Treachery.   

8.  
May Heaven, which him did raise  
O'th' Protestant Profession,  
In His Immortal Race  
Maintain the just Succession,  
That no pretending Bastard bold  
In time to come may dare  
His lawless Title to uphold,  
Against the lawful Heir.    

A new Song made by a Person of Quality, and sung before His Majesty at Winchester  
Tune, Cook Laurel.  

1.  
A Tory came late through Westminster-hall,  
And as he passed by heard a Citizen bawl;  
The Judges are Perjured, and we are undone,  
Our Liberty's lost, and our Charter is gone.   

2.  
This comes of our Prating since College is dead;  
This comes of our Plotting without money's Head:  
For he had more wit in his Treason by half,  
As he hooked himself on, he crooked himself off.   

3.  
He scarce had said this when a Baron approaced  
That ruin'd two Sisters, the younger debauched:  
The Reasons he cried, I'm loath to describe,  
He would have a Maidenhead out of the Tribe.   

4.  
The next came a Peer, & a Knight of great Fame,  
One Famous for Stabbing, the other was Lame;  
O Heavens! in what a strange Age do we dwell,  
When Bully's Reform, and Cripples Rebel.   

5.  
With them the sweet Speaker, Wi. W—s I saw,  
His Head full of Projects, but empty of Law;  
For he 'tis observed has been dull as a Dog  
Since Pe— n batooned him for calling him R●   

6.  
Pert Wa— open and Win— on, Mutinies breed,  
Yet still in the Cause, for no purpose are Feed▪  
For Cradeck will offer himself for a Drudge;  
If either of them will be fit for a Judge.   

7.  
Old Ma— rd, all ages in Faction was chief;  
Now Mumbles by rote, ne'er looks in his Brief:  
But rotten Rebellion will never last long,  
He spit out his Teeth, & will cough out his Tongue.   

8.  
Now by the Re— oer new Cards must be played,  
That Body of Law with a Sarazens-Head,  
That (Span●el-like) fawns on the King to his face  
And yet makes the Whigs just amends for his place.   

9  
For Magistrate Patience, I plainly confess,  
I've little to say, because he's in Distress;  
But he that sat once in th' City's great Chair,  
Would a Pillory grace; so I wish he were there.   

10.  
Dubois and Papillion, the City's shame Shrieves,  
Whose Truth and whose Loyalty no man believes;  
That Arrested the Mayor and no danger foresaw,  
To keep from self-hanging I leave to the Law.   

11.  
For Law they complained, of the Lawyers they boast,  
They're pleased, till by Law they their Ch▪ had lost:  
Law, Law, was the cry of the Mutinous Crew,  
The Devil's in't if they han't Law enough now.   

12.  
Scribe Cl— n Wife decked with the spoils of the poor,  
Embroidered in Scarlet like Babylon's Whore;  
But let me advise him to strip off her Red,  
And make her a Petticoat of her Green-Bed.   

13.  
Old Pl—yer grown rampant, late picked up a Whore  
And swore he'd recant, & be Whiggish no more;  
By Tories made Drunk in the Company's view.  
The Saint kissed her C— t, and drank healths in her Shoe.   

14  
Now listen ye Whigs, and hear what I speak,  
A Monarch (like Heaven can give and can take;  
But you for Rebellion no Reason can bring,  
So hang yourselves all; and God save the King.    

The New-market SONG  
Tune, Old Simon the King.  

1.  
THe Golden Age is come,  
The Winter-storms are gone,  
The Flowers spread, and Bloom,  
And smile to see the Sun;  
Who daily gilds each Grove,  
And calms the Air and Seas,  
Dame Nature seems in Love,  
And all the World's at ease:  
You Rogue so saddle Ball,  
I●ll to New market scour▪  
You never mind when I call,  
I should have been there this hour;  
For there is all Sporting and Game,  
Without any ●lotting of State;  
From Whigs, and another such Shame,  
Deliver us, deliver us, O Fate!  
Let's be to each other a ●rey,  
To be cheated be every one's Lot;  
Or choosed any sort of a way,  
But by another Damned Plot.  
Let Cullies that lose at the Race  
Go venture at Hazard, and win;  
And he that is bubbled at Dice,  
Recover't at Cocking again:  
Let Jades that are foundered be bought,  
Let Jockeys play Crimp to make sport;  
For i'faith it was strange, methought,  
to see Vintner beat the Court.   

2.  
Each corner of the Town  
Rings with perpetual noise,  
The Oyster bawling Clown  
Joyns with hot Pudding-pies;   

And both in Consort keep,  
To vend their stinking Ware,  
The drowsy God of Sleep  
Hath no Dominion there.   

hay boys! the Jockeys roar.  
If the Mare and the Gelding run,  
I'll hold you Five Guineas to Four  
He beats her, and gives half a stone.   

God d— me, quoth Bully, 'tis done,  
Or else I'm a Son of a Whore;  
And fain would I meet with the man  
Would offer it, would offer it once more.   

See, see the damned Fa●e of the Town!  
A Fop that was starving of late,  
And scarcely could borrow a Crown,  
Puts in to run for the Plate,   

Another makes chousing a Trade,  
And dreams of his Projects to come,  
And many a Crimp match has made,  
By bribing another man's Groom.   

The Townsmen are Whiggish, God rot 'em,  
Their hearts are but Loyal by fits;  
For, should you search to the bottom,  
They're as nasty as their Streets.   

3.  
But now all hearts beware;  
See, see on yonder Downs?  
Beauty now triumphs there,  
And at this distance wounds:   

In the Amazonian Wars  
Thus all the Virgins shone,  
And, like the glittering Stars,  
Paid homage to the Moon.   

Love proves a Tyrant now,  
And there doth proudly dwell;  
For each stubborn heart must bow,  
He has found a new way to kill:   

For ne'er was invented before  
Such Charms of additional Grace  
Nor has Divine Beauty such Power  
In every, in every fair Face.   

God's bud, cries my Countryman John,  
Was ever the like before seen?  
By Hats and by Feathers they ve on,  
Ise took 'em e●n all for men:   

Embroidered and fine as the Sun,  
Their Horses and Trappings of Gold;  
Such a sight I shall ne'er see again,  
If I live to a hundred years old.   

This, this is the Country's discourse  
All wondering at this rare sight:  
Then Roger go saddle my Hor●e,  
For I will be there to night.    

A New Song on the Fan. Plot,  
Tune Hey Boys up go We  

NOw, now the Plot is all come out,  
That caused our Doubts and Fears,  
And all the Tribe that made the Rout,  
Both Commoners and Peers;  
The mighty Patrns of the Cause,  
'Gainst Pagan Popery,  
Who raised a Gibbet for our Foes,  
And hay Boys up go we.   

2.  
With Sanctify'd Religious Zeal  
The Brethren did agree  
To raise our Ancient Commonweal  
On Christian Liberty:  
To undermine the Church and State,  
And blow up Monarchy;  
But now, alas! 'tis our own Fate,  
And hay Boys up go We.   

3.  
A Holy Covenant we took,  
To Sacrifice the King,  
And next to him the Royal Duke,  
A Bloody Offering;  
For which, according to the Vote,  
The Papists all should die;  
But now the Saints have changed their note,  
And hay Boys up go we.   

Our Zealous Covenanting Saints,  
Associating Peers,  
Each Heart for fear with Patience pants,  
To lose more than his Fars;  
Toney's dead, and M—s fled,  
The Helm is turned a Lee  
The Plot (the Nail) is knocked o'th' head,  
And hay then up go we.   

No longer may the Papists boast  
Their Bloody black Designs;  
Old Rome thy Ancient Glory's lost,  
For all thy Learned Divines:  
For Royal Murders, Treasons base,  
And marchless Trachery,  
The Jesuits must now give place,  
And hay Boys up go we.   

6.  
How well did we contrive the Plot,  
And laid it at their Door,  
For which old Stafford went to pot,  
And many guiltless more;  
But now the Tide is come about,  
The Truth of all we see;  
And when the Murder all is out,  
Then hey Boys up go We.   

7.  
Rumsey's Gold, and Rumbold bold,  
Conspire to kill the King,  
And Pickering in fatal hold,  
Must answer for the thing;  
belthorn, West, and all the rest,  
With Perkin may agree,  
To be o'th' Tower not Throne possessed;  
Then hay Boys up go we.   

8.  
Our City Riots and Country Routs,  
That to Rebellion tend,  
Our Races, and our Hunting-bouts,  
In Insurrections end;  
The Rebel now is catched i'th' Snare  
●e laid for Monarchy;  
At last the Gallows claims its share,  
Then hay Goys up go we.    

The Conspiracy; or, the discovery of the Fanatic Plot.  
Tune, Let Oliver now be forgotten, etc.  

1.  
LEt Pickering now be forgotten,  
Old Rumbold has wiped off his scores;  
Since Presbyter Jack went a Plotting,  
The Jesuits turned out of Doors:  
For Brewing, swilling of Treason,  
King-killing without reason,  
Of all the Pack,  
Noble or Peasant,  
None can exceed old Presbyter Jack.   

2.  
First, the hot Sectaries Voted,  
'Twas Treason to Murder the King▪  
And next the bold Regicides Plotted  
To compass the very same Thing:  
Their Votes and Arbitrary Power,  
That sent the Lords to the Tower,  
We now see plain,  
Every hour,  
They'd the old Game play over again.   

3.  
Rumsey and Rumbold indented  
At Hodsdon their Ambush to bring;  
But Heaven and the Fire prevented,  
And Providence guarded the King:  
The Whigs the Treason propounded;  
But when the Trumpet sounded  
For Cambridgeshire,  
All were confounded,  
Taken or fled both Peasant and Peer.   

4  
M●nmo●th for Wit, who was able  
To make to a Crown a pretence,  
The Head and the Hope of the Rabble,  
A ●oyal and Politic Prince:  
But now He's gone into Holland,  
To be a King of no-Land,  
Or else must be  
Monarch of Poland,  
Was ever Son so Loyal as He?   

5.  
Lord Grace, and Armstrong the Bully,  
That Prudent and Politic Knight,  
Who made of His Grace such a Cully,  
Together have taken their flight:  
Is this your Races, Horse-matches,  
His Grace's swift Dispatches  
From Shire to Shire?  
Under the Hatches,  
Now above-Deck you dare not appear.   

6.  
Brave Russel and Sidney the Bully,  
That stood for the holy Old Cause;  
And Trenchard drawn in for a Cully,  
In spite of Allegiance and Laws;  
And Wildman too, with his Cannon,  
With Walcot, Smith and Aaron,  
With Mead and Bourn,  
Every Man, on  
To Tyburn goes the next in his Turn.   

7.  
Next Valiant and Noble Lord H— d  
That formerly dealt in Lambs-wool,  
And knows what it is to be Towered,  
By Impeaching may fill the Jail full:  
And next to him Cully Brandon  
The Wit; and famous Hambden  
Must take his place,  
Who did abandon  
All Loyalty, Religion and Grace.   

8.  
Hone▪ and Rowse, the King and His Brother  
That they were to kill 'em confessed,  
And now they hang up one another,  
Holms, Blaney, Lee, Walcot and West:  
May all such Traitors discarded,  
To Tyburn be well guarded,  
And every thing  
Be so rewarded,  
That would oppose so Gracious a King.    

RVSSEL's Farewell Tune, Oh, the merry Christ-Church Bells, etc.  

OH, the mighty Innocence  
Of Russel, Bedford's Son!  
That died for the Plot,  
Whether Guilty, or not,  
By his last (Equivocating) Speech!  
By the words of a dying man,  
I here protest I know no Plot  
'Gainst the Life of the King, or Government,  
Either by Action, or Intent.  
Fie, fie, fie, fie, fie, fie, my Lord,  
What are you about to do?  
To sink to Hell  
By th' sound of your Knell,  
Both Soul and Body too.   

Oh, the shallow memory  
Of this bloodthirsty Lord!  
T'deny and confess,  
And all to express  
His guilty Insolence the more:  
I at Mr. Shepherd's house  
Did hear some little slight discourse,  
How easy 'twas the Guards to seize;  
Yet I am guiltless, if you please;  
No, no, no, no, no, no, my Lord,  
Your Guilt's too plainly seen,  
And M—th too,  
With Shaftsbury's Crew,  
To destroy both King and Queen   

3  
Next your Lordship does protest,  
No man had ever yet  
That Impudence  
Against his Prince,  
To your face to propose any foul Design:  
Then you confess immediately,  
At the House of Politic Shaftsbury  
You heard such words  
Were sharp as Swords,  
The worst can be thought or English affords;  
Which raised your Righteous Spirit to  
Exclaim against their sense;  
Yet this you concealed,  
And never revealed,  
Till in your blind Defence.   

4.  
Po●ery (your Lordship says)  
Is Bloody and unjust;  
What then) you designed  
With those you combined,  
Was farce, to jest our Lives away;  
For when the Duke of Monmouth came  
T'acquaint your Honour of his Fear  
Of being undone by the heat of some,  
Too violent for the bloody Cause,  
Away you go to Shepherd's ●s strait,  
Where pernicious words were said,  
In Passion all,  
With Judgement small,  
But consequence of Dread.   

5.  
From the time of choosing Sheriffs,  
I did conclude the heat  
Would this produce;  
That's no excuse,  
But just Confession of the Fact.  
Presently your Lordship says,  
For farther Confirmation still,  
You are not surpriz●d to find it fall  
On your Honour you deserved it all:  
Immediately you would proclaim  
Aloud your Innocence  
Why your Lordship's mad,  
In a Cause so bad,  
To put that Sham-pretence.   

6.  
O ye True blue Protestants,  
Whose times are yet to come,  
You see your Fate;  
Early or late  
Follow you must, 'tis all your Doom.  
M●th, Armstrong, Ferguson,  
Grace, Goodenough the Under-Shrieve,  
With all your Ignoramus Crew,  
That Justice hate, and Treason brew;  
Scaffold, Tyburn, Halter, Axe,  
Those Instruments of Death,  
As 'tis your due,  
May't you pursue,  
Till you resign your Breath.    

Eustace Comines the Irish Evidence, his Farewell to England. Tune,  
O hone, O hone  

1.  
Be me Shoul and Shouluation,  
O hone, O hone.  
I'll go to me own Nawtion:  
O hone, O hone.  
Old Tony hence is fled,  
And Russel lost his Head;  
I starve for want of Bread,  
O hone, O hone.   

2.  
This Saucy English Plot,  
O hone, O hone.  
Did make Ours go to Pot:  
O hone, O hone.  
What shall I do to go?  
Let me she, O ho! O ho!  
Pox take me if I know:  
O hone, O hone.   

3.  
My sauce does red wid Shame,  
O hone, O hone.  
That ever here I came:  
O hone, O hone  
Ten, Twenty Curse upon  
Shame Justice Heddrington,  
Who made me first leave Home,  
O hone, O hone.   

4.  
A Graccho Eustace, he did say  
O hone, O hone.  
You moil for a Groat a day:  
O hone, O hone.  
A Plot Office now is open,  
I will advance your Hope,  
If you'll Swear against the Pope,  
O hone, O hone.   

5.  
Be Creest I will, said I,  
O hone, O hone.  
Tell you ten hundred Lie,  
O hone, O hone.  
I'll Swear dem in and out,  
we'll have a merry bout,  
And make a Rabble rout,  
O hone, O hone.   

6.  
We came to Westminster,  
O hone, O hone.  
Den he called me Maishter,  
O hone, O hone.  
I swore by Fait and Troth,  
And by my Beeble Oat,  
(What we'd agreed on boat,)  
O hone, O hone.   

7.  
Then I was put in pay,  
O hone, O hone.  
Had five, six Groat a day,  
O hone, O hone.  
Which did fine Cloads afford,  
Instead of Spawde, a Sword;  
I knew not me shelf good Lord,  
O hone, O hone.   

8.  
But soon my Maishter Rogue,  
O hone, O hone.  
Was in spite of his Brogue:  
O hone, O hone.  
For the Sauce of his Tongue,  
To Prisons dragged along,  
Magnatum Scandalum,  
O hone, O hone.   

9  
Then was prepared a Drench,  
O hone, O hone.  
Oats himshelf to Retrench;  
O hone, O hone.  
The meaner Swearers then  
To Tremble did begin:  
As I have a Shoul widin:  
O hone, O hone.   

10.  
By this Book I did faint,  
O hone, O hone.  
Till Patrick me fwhite Saint:  
O hone, O hone.  
Bid me leave off my Cries,  
And Swear no more Plot-Lies.  
Then straight away he hies:  
O hone, O hone.   

11.  
Deel take this Swearing Trade,  
O hone, O hone.  
I'll go home to me Spade:  
O hone, O hone.  
I'll fence the Patatoes round  
And keep me Maishters ground;  
I am too long Hellhound.  
O hone, O hone.   

12.  
My Book-bussing Tribe adieu;  
O hone, O hone.  
It is now bad wid you:  
O hone, O hone.  
And if I 'scape the Hang,  
I've outdone all my Gang;  
And leave You here t'Swing Swang.  
O hone, O hone.    

Monarchy Triumphant; or, the fatal fall of Rebels.  
Tune, The King enjoys His own again.  

WHigs are now such precious things,  
We see there's not one to be found;  
All roar, God bless and save the King,  
And the Health goes briskly all day round:  
To the Soldier Cap in hand  
The sneaking Rascals stand,  
And would put in for honest men;  
But the King He well knows  
His Friends from His Foes,  
And now He enjoys His own again.   

2.  
From this Plots first taking air,  
Like Lightning all the Whigs have run;  
Nay, they've left their topping Square,  
To march off with our eldest Son▪  
They've left their States and Wives,  
To save their precious Lives,  
But who can blame their flying? when  
'Twas plain to 'em all,  
The great and the small,  
That the King would have His own again.   

3.  
Since the King was thereabouts,  
They all well knew their Heads were His;  
So by help of such like scouts  
The Great Ones have yet escaped His Phys.  
His stern and Kingly look  
There's few of them can brook,  
Since fairly tried, they know that then  
The Hemp or sharp Steel  
They must all expect to feel,  
Since the King enjoys His own again.   

4.  
This may chance a warning be,  
(If e'er the Saints will warning take)  
To leave off hatching Villainy,  
Since they've seen their Brethren at the stake,  
And more must mounted be,  
(Which God grant we may see)  
Since Juries now are honest men;  
And the King lets 'em swing  
With a hay ding, ding, ding, ding,  
Great Charles enjoys His own again.   

5.  
Once they voted, That His Guards  
A Nuisance was, which now They find;  
Since they stand betwixt the King  
And the Treason that such Dogs designed:  
'Tis They will you maul,  
Though it cost 'em a fall,  
In spite of your most mighty Men;  
For now they are alarmed,  
And all loyalists well armed▪  
Since the King enjoys His own again.   

6.  
To the King some Bumpers round,  
Let's drink▪ my Lads, whilst Life doth last;  
He that at the Core's not found,  
Shall be kicked out without a taste:  
Since we're case-hardened honest men,  
Which makes their Crew mad,  
But us Loyal hearts full glad,  
That the King enjoys His own again.    

The Plot and Plotters confounded; or, the down-fall of Whiggism.  
Tune, Ah Jenny! 'tis your Eyn do kill.  

1.  
THe Plot (God wot)  
Is now broke out,  
Confound those brought it in;  
Let them be Damned,  
(Besides being shamed,)  
Of their King-killing sin;  
Down, down with their General  
Council and Colonel,  
joiner and Cobbler of State,  
Their Members of Parliament  
Of the new Rump,  
Let all Repent too late.   

2.  
Oh now you Whigs  
Led up this Jig,  
What is't you'll lead up next?  
Why saith I hear  
To Tyburn you gang,  
For being beside your Text▪  
To Tyburn the Highborn,  
As well as the Cobbler,  
Concerned in Plot so dire,  
Must Hickle-te Pickle-te  
Swing on a Row;  
Pray God I am no Liar.   

3.  
Did ever Fools  
Set up such Tools  
That durst not stand the sho●k  
Of being made,  
Or being marred?  
A pox on such Bully-Rocks!  
Fie, fie, fie, fie,  
Fie, fie for shame,  
Such Heroes run the pit,  
It shows, God knows,  
Their fear of blow●,  
And eke their want of wit.   

4.  
The King God bless,  
The Queen no less,  
The Duke and Duchess too;  
The Lady Anne,  
with Her good Man,  
And all the Royal Crew:  
Let those that love  
The King be blessed,  
And those that hate Him cursed;  
Let Tories swim  
In Claret, and  
The Whigs be choked with thirst.    

Whig upon Whig; or a Pleasant dismal SONG on the old Plotters newly found out.  
Tune, O hone, etc.  

1.  
BEloved harken all,  
O hone, O hone.  
To my sad Rhimes that, shall  
O hone, O hone.  
Be found in Ditty sad,  
Which makes Me almost mad,  
But Tories hearts full glad,  
O hone, O hone.   

2.  
Essex has cut his Throat,  
O hone, O hone.  
Russel is Guilty found,  
O hone, O hone.  
Walcot being of the Crew,  
And Hone the Joiner too,  
Must give the Devil his due,  
O hone, O hone.   

3.  
Rumsey swears heartily,  
O hone, O hone.  
West swears He does not lie,  
O hone, O hone.  
L. H— d vows by's Troth,  
That they are good Men both,  
And take the self same Oath,  
O hone, O hone.   

4.  
I heard some People say,  
O hone, O hone.  
M—th is fled away,  
O hone, O hone.  
And some do not stick to say,  
If He falls in their way,  
He will have damned fair play,  
O hone, O hone.   

5.  
Armstrong and Grace Got wot,  
O hone, O hone.  
And Ferguson the Scot,  
O hone, O hone.  
Are all run God knows where,  
'Cause stay they dare not here,  
To fix the Grand Affair,  
O hone, O hone.   

6.  
Juries (alas) are thus,  
O hone, O hone.  
There's no Ignoramus,  
O hone, O hone.  
But You'll have Justice done,  
To every mother's Son,  
And be Hanged one by one.  
O hone, O hone.   

7.  
Now how like Fools we look,  
O hone, O hone.  
Had we not better took  
O hone, O hone.  
Unto our Trades and Wives,  
And have kept in our Hives,  
Which might have saved our Lives,  
O hone, O hone.   

8.  
The King He says, that all  
O hone, O hone.  
That are found Guilty, shall  
O hone, O hone.  
Die by the Axe or Rope,  
As they died for the Pope;  
Brethren there is no Hope.  
O hone, O hone.   

9  
The Sisters left behind,  
O hone, O hone.  
Must with Vile Tories Grind,  
O hone, O hone.  
And still be at their Call,  
To play at Up-tails-all;  
Nay, to be Poxed and all.  
O hone, O hone.   

10.  
The Tories now will Drink,  
O hone, O hone.  
The King's Health with our Chink,  
O hone, O hone.  
Queen, Duke and Duchess too,  
And all the Loyal Crew.  
Jerney Morblew, Morblew.  
O hone, O hone.    

The Whigs Drowned in an Honest Tory Health.  
To a pleusant Tune.  

1.  
WEalth breeds Care; Love, Hope and Fear;  
What does Love or Business here,  
While Bacchus' Navy doth appear?  
Fight on, and fear not sinking:  
Fill it briskly to the Brim,  
Till the flying Topsails swim,  
We owe the first Discovery to Him  
Of this great World of Drinking   

2.  
Grave Cabals, who States Refine,  
Mingle their Debates with Wine;  
Ceres and the God o'th' Vine  
Make every great Commander:  
Let sober Sots small Beer subdue,  
The Wise and Valiant Wine do woe;  
The Staggarite had the Honour too  
To be Drunk with Alexander.   

3.  
Stand to your Arms! and now advance▪  
A health to the English King of France,  
And to the next of Boon Esprance  
By Bacchus and Apollo:  
Thus in State I lead the Van;  
Fall in your place by the Right-hand-man!  
Beat Drum! march on! dub a dub, run dan!  
He's a Whig that will not follow.   

4.  
Face about to the Right again,  
Britain's Admiral of the Main,  
York, and His Illustrious Train  
Crown the days Conclusion:  
But a Halter stop his Throat  
Who brought in the foremost Vote,  
And of all that did promote  
The Mystery of Exclusion.   

5.  
Next to Denmark's Warlike Prince▪  
Let the following Health commence;  
To the Nymph whose Influence  
Brought the Hero hither:  
May their Race the Tribe annoy,  
Who the Grandsire would destroy,  
And get every year a Boy  
Whilst they are together.   

6.  
To the Royal Family  
Let us close in Bumpers three;  
May the Axe and ●alter be  
The Pledge of every Roundhead:  
To all Loyal Hearts pursue,  
Who to the Monarch dare prove true;  
But for Him they call ●rue blue,  
Let him be confounded.    

An excellent new Song on the late Victories over the Turks.  
To a very Pleasant New Tune.  

1.  
HArk! the thundering Canons roar,  
echoing from the Germane shore,  
And the joyful News comes o's▪  
The Turks are all confounded;  
Lorraine comes, they run, they run;  
Charge your Horse through the grand halfmoon  
We'll quarter give to none,  
Since Staremberg is wounded.   

2.  
Close your Ranks, and each brave Soul  
Take a lusty flowing Bowl,  
A grand Carouse to th' Royal ●●le,  
The Empire's brave Defender;  
No man leave his Post by stealth,  
Plunder the Grand Visiens Wealth,  
But drink a Helmet full to th' Health▪  
Of the second Alexander.   

3.  
Mahomet was a sober Dog,  
A small Beer drowsy senseless rogue,  
The Juice of the Grape so much in vogue  
To forbid to those Adore him;  
Had he but allowed the Vine,  
Given'em leave to carouse in Wine  
The Turk had safely past the Rhine,  
And conquered all before him.   

4.  
With dull Tea they sought in vain,  
Hopeless victory to obtain,  
Where sprighty Wine fills every Vein;  
Success must needs attend him;  
Our Brains, (like our Canons) warm  
With often Firing, feels no harm,  
While the sober sot flies the Alarm,  
No Laurel can befriend him.   

5.  
Christians thus with Conquests Crowned,  
Conquest with the Glass goes round,  
Weak Coffee can't keep its ground,  
Against the force of Claret:  
Whilst we give them thus the Foil,  
And the Pagan Troops Recoil,  
The Valiant Poles divide the Spoil,  
And in brisk Nectar share it.   

6.  
Infidels are now o'ercome,  
But the most Christian Turks at home  
Watching the Fate of Christendom,  
But all his hopes are shallow;  
Since the Poles have led the Dance,  
Let English Caesar now advance,  
And if he sends a Fleet to France,  
He's a Whig that will not follow.    

Tangiers Lamentation on the Demolishing and Blowing up of the Town, Castle and Citadel▪  
Tune, Tangier March.  

1.  
LEt the Moors repine,  
Their hopes resign,  
Now the Pagan Troops are cheated▪  
Let Foot and Horse  
Disband their Force,  
Since Tangier is defeated:  
Alas Tangier! what sudden Doom  
Hath wrought this alteration,  
That thus thy March should now become  
Thy fatal Lamentation?   

2.  
Now, alas Tangier!  
That cost so dear  
In Money, Lives, and Fortunes,  
See how the States,  
The kinder Fates,  
For thy own Fate importunes:  
Had this been plotted by the Moors,  
Alas! it were no matter;  
But blown up thus by thy own Store,  
Thou●dst better swem in Water.   

3.  
The old Port, Tangier,  
Where for good Cheer  
We never paid Extortion;  
Which, whilst it stood,  
War once thought good  
To be a Monarch's Portion.  
Whilst English Hearts Thy Walls possessed,  
They scorned e'er to surrender,  
Now to the Foe is left a Nest  
For Serpents to engender.   

4.  
Alas! what now  
Must the Seamen do,  
When they come ashore to Lord it,  
For a little Fresh Store,  
And a little Fresh Whore?  
Which Tangier still afforded▪  
No Ambuscade of Treacherous Moor,  
Nor shall Ben Otter's Highness  
Court any more the British Shoar,  
To try the Lady's kindness.   

5.  
It would grieve your heart,  
Should I impart  
The Gold and precious Matter  
That lies oppressed  
In every Chest  
Drowned underneath the Water;  
But now the Mould that forced the Main,  
The Mould so gay and bonny,  
Is with the Chests blown up again▪  
But ne'er a Cross of Money.   

6.  
Of how many Souls,  
And large Punch-bowls,  
Has this been the undoing?  
How many Tun  
Of precious Coin  
Lie buried in the Ruin?  
Had this been done some years ago,  
Of Horsemen and postilions,  
'T had saved some thou and Lives the blow,  
And saved besides some Millions.   

7.  
When the Pile took fire  
Above the Spire,  
I wish (for th' good o'th' Nation)  
The Walls well crammed,  
With Rebels rammed  
Of the association:  
All Bethells of a Commonwealth,  
Each sullen Whig and Trimmer,  
That boggle at a Loyal Health,  
Yet will not bawk a Brimmer.   

8.  
Now Heaven preserve  
(While Rebels starve)  
The King and's Royal Brother,  
While Traitors fly,  
And others die,  
Impeaching one another:  
That Gracious Prince that values more  
His Subjects Lives and Pleasure,  
Than all the Wealth of Africks' shore,  
And Tangiers buried Treasure.    

The History of Whiggism, From their Rise, to their late horrid and unparallelled Conspiracy.  
Tune, When the Stormy Winds do Blow.  

1.  
YOu Calvinists of England,  
Who surfeit with your Ease,  
And strive to make us Whigland,  
To breed a foul Disease:  
Harken you painted Saints,  
For we will let you know,  
Oh, the Cares and the Fears  
That by you Whigs do grow!   

The first of your pretensions  
When that you did begin,  
Were glossed with good Intentions,  
But false at Heart within:  
No Faith in you was ever found,  
That Truth we plainly know,  
Oh the Cares and the Fears  
That by you Whigs do grow.   

Queen Elizabeth she did descry,  
And soon found what you were;  
She made fit Laws against you  
By Parliament appear;  
Which late you'd have Repealed,  
But just Charles too well did know,  
All the Cares and the Fears  
That by you Whigs do grow!   

Such Locusts in the Nation  
King James could never love;  
Wherefore he thought discretion  
T'advise his Son t'disprove  
Of all your false pretended Zeal;  
For wisely he did know,  
Oh, the Cares and the Fears  
That by you Whigs do grow!   

When best of Kings and Princes  
Did give your hearts desire,  
Yet you were not contented,  
To th' Crown you did aspire;  
You said, you'd make him Great,  
Indeed you did do so;  
But oh, the Cares and the Fears  
Attends such Winds that blow!   

On the Mitre you did trample  
To make yourselves more high,  
With greater force to give the stroke  
Against His Majesty:  
Ah! false and traitorous Tekelites,  
Such ways to let us know  
The great Cares and the Fears  
That by you Whigs do grow!   

The Whig he then stood rampant,  
To us he gave his Laws;  
Yet such he dare not vaunt on't,  
So sharp we felt his Claws:  
YOu then laid open what you were,  
And smartly made us know  
Oh, the Cares and the Fears  
That by you Whigs do grow!   

The Blessed Martyrs Royal Son,  
Whom Heaven guarded sure,  
And made us happy by's Return,  
Him you could not endure:  
Against His Life you did conspire,  
And Mighty James also;  
Oh, the Cares and the Fears  
That by you Whigs do grow!   

Peace, Plenty, and all that's good,  
Through His Conduct we have:  
Ungrateful Souls! to seek his Blood▪  
Who seeks us for to save;  
And by your late Rebellious ways  
Again to make us know,  
Oh, the Cares and the Fears  
That by you Whigs do grow!   

With furious Zeal you do inflame,  
And cause our Countries burn:  
You work Confusion, but the blame  
On Innocents' you turn▪  
Your holy Masque is dropping off,  
God grant it may do so,  
And stop the Cares and the Fears  
That by you Whigs do grow.   

May College, Rouse, and Hone, their Fate  
On Traitors all attend:  
What though i● seems a little late?  
Yet still we know your end.  
●ust Vengeance does not sleep,  
Though you do think it so;  
You'll have your shares of the Cares  
That by you Whigs do grow.   

Long live great Charles our pious King  
Who cares when we do sleep,  
To keep still safe under his Wing  
From Ravenous Wolves his Sheep:  
He us preserves from Bears Clutch▪  
The Lions Jaw also,  
And from all Cares and all Fears  
That by you Whigs do grow    

The Whigs▪ hard Heart the cause of the hard Frost.  
Tune, Oh London! thou'dst better have built new Bordelloes, etc.  

1.  
YE Whigs and Dissenters, I charge you attend,  
Here is a sad story, as ever was told:  
The River of Thames, that once was your Friend,  
Is frozen quite over with Ice very cold;  
And Fish which abounded,  
Tho' they can't be drownded,  
For lack of their Liquor, I fear are confounded  
Then leave your Rebellious & damned Presbytering,  
Or you may be glad of Poor-Jack & Red-herring.   

2.  
Now, had it been frozen with Brimstone and Fire,  
The wonder had been much deeper at bottom;  
Tho' some do believe your Sins do require  
A Punishment great as e'er fell upon Sodom:  
But then the poor Fish  
Had been dressed to your Dish,  
And, stead of a Plague, you had then had your wish;  
Pikes, Flounder, together with Gudgeons and Roaches,  
Had served for the Luxury of these Debauche●s.   

3.  
But, alas! to instruct ye this Frost now is sent,  
As if it would show ye your Consciences hardened;  
And if each Mothers-child make not haste to repent,  
How the Devil d'ye think ye shall ever be pardoned  
'Tis a very sad Case,  
As ever yet was,  
That the River should suffer for every Ass!  
Poor Thames! thou mayst curse the foul Lake of Geneva,  
For whose faults Thou dost penance, sans hope of Reprieve-a.   

4.  
This Thames, (O ye Whigs!) brought ye Plenty & Pride,  
So ye hardened your hearts with your Silver and Gold  
But if ever ye hope to redeem Time or Tide,  
●ot must your Repentance, your Zeal must be cold;  
Your damned hungry Zeal  
For rank Commonweal  
Will hurry ye headlong all down to the Deel;  
Then melt your hard hearts, and your tears spread abroad.  
As ever ye hope that your Thames shall be Thawed.   

5.  
Make haste, and be soon reconciled to the Truth,  
Or you may lament it, both old men and young;  
For, suppose every Shop should be turned to a Booth  
Oh, were it not sad to be told with a tongue!  
Should Cheapside advance  
Up to Pety-France,  
And London's Guild-hall up to Westminster dance;  
O, what would become of your wealthy brave Chamber,  
If it were forced so far Westward to clamber?   

6.  
C●ck shops with roast Victuals, and Taverns with Wine,  
Already are seen on the River with plenty,  
●hich are filled every morning before ye can dine,  
By Two's and by Three's, I may truly say Twenty;  
Jack, Tom, Will, and Harry.  
Nan, Sue, Doll, and Mary,  
Come there to devour Plum-Cakes and Canary:  
And if with their Dancing & Wine they be tired,  
For a Tester a piece there's a Coach to be hired.   

7.  
There's Gingerbread, Small-Cole, and hot Pudding-pies,  
With Bread & Cheese, Brandy & good Ale & Beer:  
Besides the Plum-Cakes too, there's large Cakes of Ice,  
Enough to invite him that will come here;  
All which does betid  
To punish your Pride;  
Y'are plagued now with Ice, 'cause you love to back- slide:  
Methinks if should warn you to alter your station.  
For y'ave hitherto built on a slippery Foundation.   

8.  
Ye Merchants to Greenland, now leave off your sailing,  
And for your Tr●in-Oyl yourselves never solicit;  
For there is no fear of your Merchandise failing,  
Since the Whales, I●m afraid, mean to give us a visit:  
The great Leviathan  
May sail to England,  
To see a worse Monster the Presbyterian.  
Was ever a Vengeance so wonderful shown,  
That a River so great should be turned to a Town?    

The Swearers Chorus to the Presbyterian Plot.  
Tune, The merry Beggars, etc.  

1.  
THere was a Monstruous Doctor;  
This Doctor had no Peer,  
A Rogue from his Cradle  
And bred to Lie and Swear;  
And a Swearing we will go, will go, will go,  
And a Swearing we will go.   

2.  
A Bag for my Pilgrims▪  
Another for Black Bills,  
Ten thousand blank Commissions  
To move as many Hills:  
And a Swearing we will go, etc.   

3.  
A Bag for my Salary,  
From every Fool suborns,  
Three brawny Bums to follow me,  
And bugger them by turns:  
And a Bugg ring we will go, etc.   

4.  
A Bag for my Plunder,  
Sir William's on the scent;  
The Pole did n●er so thunder  
In the Grand Vizier's Tent:  
And a Pundring we will go, etc.   

5.  
A Bag for my Necklace,  
Another for my Plate;  
And all shall be Fish  
That comes in Waller's Net;  
And a Plundering we will go, etc.   

6.  
A Bag for my Pistols▪  
And Consecrated Knives,  
And one for Tormentillio's,  
T'fright Fools out of their Lives:  
And a Plotting we will go, etc.   

7.  
A Bag for the Parson,  
Another for Don John;  
Though I swore like a Whoreson,  
Yet still I did swear on:  
And a Swearing we will go, etc.   

8.  
Through four and twenty Keyholes  
I sallied like a Witch,  
And through as many Brick-walls  
I'll swear I went throughstitch:  
And a Swearing I did go, etc.   

9  
To Lambeth we will go,  
Where we first made the Plot;  
While Prance and I can swear and lie,  
They all shall go to pot:  
And a Plotting we will go, etc.   

10.  
Then we'll to Godfrey go,  
And find Him killed o'th' spot,  
And swear the Papists did it,  
To make a Popish-Plot:  
And a Murdering we will go, etc.   

11.  
A Gown I have for show  
Amongst the Clergy grave,  
And, when I please, a Cloak  
To hide the double Knave:  
And a Plotting we will go, etc.   

12.  
I had a pretty knack,  
To Wheedle, Swear and Lie,  
By the Rebellious Rabble  
How much admired was I!  
And a Swearing we will go etc.   

13.  
In fair London Town  
I live, and pay no Rent;  
The Brethren they provide for me,  
And I am well content:  
And a Swearing we will go, etc.   

14.  
Of all Occupations  
The Swearer is most blessed;  
For when he swears most falsely,  
He's always paid the best:  
And a Swearing we will go, etc.   

15.  
I fear no Plot against me,  
Although the Whigs rebel;  
Then who would be honest,  
Since such Rogues fare so well?  
And a Plotting we will go, will go, will go;  
And a Plotting we will go.    

A New SONG.  
Tune, I'll tell thee, Dick, etc.  

I'll tell thee, Tom, the strangest story,  
Because thou art an honest Tory;  
'Tis News beyond expressions:  
Zich zights are no where to be zeen  
In any Lond, (God zave the Queen)  
But at our Quarter-Sessions.   

Vor Rogues I zaw in zich a place,  
As would the Gibbet quite disgrace,  
'Tis pity it should want 'em:  
But how the Devil they came there,  
List, Tom, and I'll in brief declare  
And how they did recant 'em,   

When I was late at London Town,  
To see zome zights e●r I went down,  
To Whitehall I did venture;  
And having on my best Array,  
As vine as on a Holiday,  
Zoors I made bold to enter.   

Up stairs I went, which were as brooad,  
And Dirty too as any Rooad,  
Or as the streets o'th' Zity.  
Hadst thou been there, thou wouldst have said  
His Majesty had kept no Maid,  
God's zooks, and that's a pity.   

When I was up, I did discern  
A Chamber bigger than a Barn,  
Where I did see Voke stand,  
That I was well near urighted quite,  
It was so strange and grim a zight,  
With long things in their hand.   

Their Clothing cannot well be told,  
on which were things of beaten Gold  
Upon their Back and Breast;  
I doffed my Hat when I came in,  
Quoth I, Pray which of you's the King?  
Which made a woundy Jest.   

At last came by a Gentleman,  
Who made me zoon to understond  
I need not be aveared;  
Quoth he, Come on, and vollow me,  
I'll show thee strait His Majesty;  
Warrant these are but His Guard.   

But, Tom, not any Wake or Vair  
Can show zich numbers as are there,  
Still cringing low, and bowing,  
That I may zwear, and tell no lie,  
They wearier are, than Thou or I  
With Thrashing or with Ploughing.   

No Ants do vaster lead or drive,  
Or Bees buzz to or fro' the Hive,  
I ma●l they were not dizzy;  
And zure the Nations great Avairs  
Lay heavily upon their Cares,  
They looked so wise and busy.   

At last came in His Majesty,  
Not taller much than Thou or I;  
Yet, whatzoe'r I ailed,  
With only gazing on his Face,  
I trembled like a Love-zick Lass  
Just on the point to yield.   

He looked, methought, above the rest,  
Tho not by half so vinely dressed,  
Which made me fall a zwearing,  
A Pox upon the Parliament,  
That will not let us pay him Rent,  
Gold's only for his wearing   

A Ribbon vine came cross avore,  
Zich as our Landlord's bridemen wore  
At end of which was hung  
A curious thing, that shone as bright  
As Maudlin's eyes, or morning light,  
When guilded by the Zun,   

But now the news, I'll tell thee Truth,  
Hard by hi● zide there stood a Youth,  
That looked as trim and gay,  
As if the had not guilty been  
Of wishing e'er to be a King,  
Unless a King of May.   

It was the zame our Vicar zed  
Vor Treason should have last his Head,  
Warrant which ●ive hundred Pound  
By Proclamation offered was  
To any that should take his Grace  
In any Kerson ground.   

Won Sunday morn, thou mayst remember,  
I think the twantieth of Zeptember,  
Our Parson read a thing,  
How this same Spark, (a vengeance on him!)  
With forty moor, did take upon him  
To kill our Gracious King.   

But scant the urighted harmless Zwain,  
That meets a Wolf upon the Plain,  
Was so aghast with vear:  
Wounds! if His Majesty (quoth I)  
Does keep no better Company,  
I'll stay no longer here.   

With that, the Mon that brought me in  
By th' Jacket pulled me back again;  
Quoth he, Pray hear ye reason;  
He was a What-d'ye-caled, 'tis true,  
Butts Pardon makes him uree as you  
Vrom Knavery or Treason.   

Whaw, whaw! quoth I, a pretty Nick,  
To make Rogues honest by a trick  
Zo often tried in vain:  
As if my Bull should gore me once▪  
I'd trust the zenseless Beast with Horns  
To gore me o'er again.   

I'll even to Devonshire again,  
Where honest men are honest men,  
And Rogues are hanged ver Rogues.  
God's wounds! were I His Majesty,  
E'er zich a Zon should countenanced be,  
Chi'd prise him as my Dogs.    

Unfortunate Jockey; or, Jenneys' Lamentation for the loss of Jockey.  
A pleasant Tune, sung in the Play called, The Royalist.  

1.  
TWa bony Lads were Sawny and Jockey,  
Sawny was lewd, and Jockey unluckey,  
Sawney was tall, well favoured, and witty,  
But I'll in my heart thought Jockey more pretty  
For when he sued me, wooed me, and viewed me,  
Never was lad so like to undo me,  
Fie I cried, and almost died,  
Lest Jockey should gang and come no more to me.   

2.  
Jockey would love, but he would not marry,  
And I'se had a dread that I'se should miscarry  
His cunning Tongue with wit was so guilded,  
That I'se was afraid my heart would have yielded  
For daily he pressed me, kissed me, and blessed me,  
Lost was the hour methought when he missed me,  
Crying, denying, and sighing, I wooed him,  
And muckle ado I had to get from him.   

3.  
But cruel Fate robbed me of my Jewel,  
For Sawny would make him fight in Duel,  
And down in a Dale with Cypress surrounded,  
Ha! there to his death poor Jockey was wounded  
But when he thrilled him, felled him, killed him,  
Who could express my grief that beheld him?  
Raging, I tore my Hair for to bind him,  
And vowed and swore ne'er to stay behind him.   

4.  
I sighed and sobbed until I was weary,  
To think my poor Jockey should so miscarry,  
And never was any in such a sad taking  
As hapless Jenny, whose heart is still a king,  
To think how I crossed him, tossed him & lost him;  
Too late it was to coin words to accost him,  
Alone than I sat lamenting and crying,  
Still wishing each minute that I were a dying.   

5  
Ah! Jockey since thou behind thee hast left me,  
And death of all joys and all comforts bereft me,  
Thy destiny I will lament very much  
And down my pale cheeks salt Tears they shall trickle;  
To ease me of trouble each bubble shall double,  
To think of my Jockey so Loyal and Noble,  
I'll grieve for to think that those eyes are benighted  
Wherein mournful Jenny so much once delighted   

6.  
That blow oh Sawny was base and unlucky,  
That rob poor Jenny of her dearest Jockey,  
A bony boon Youth 'twas known he was ever  
To please his poor Jenny was still his endeavour;  
But 'twas fortune uncertain, our parting,  
Procured & caused this breaking & smarting,  
But whilst I do live 'tis resolved by Jenny,  
For Jockeys dear sake ne'er to lig with any.   

7.  
This Jenny for Jockey lay sighing and weeping,  
Oft wring her hands while others was sleeping  
But Sawney to see her thus strangely distressed,  
For the loss of her Love, his heart was oppressed,  
Tho' this deluder, viewed her, and sued her,  
'Twas all but in vain, for she called him Intruder  
And said, if you die for my Love I will mock ye,  
For you were the cause of the death of my Jockey.   

8.  
That bony brave Scot hath left nene behind him,  
That like to himself was worthy of minding,  
●is Father's delight, and the joy of his Mother;  
And Scotland before ne'er bred sike another,  
When I think on his beauty, let duty confute ye.  
Death never before had sike a great booty,  
For all that do know him, do sigh & bewail him,  
But Oceans of Tears now can little avail him.   

9  
Ah! Jockey there's nene that are left to inherit  
The tithe of thy Virtues, thou wonderful merit,  
But whilst I do live thou shalt not be forgotten,  
He sing out thy praise when thy carcase is rotten  
For thou wert the fairest, rarest, and dearest,  
And now thou art dead like a Saint thou appearest,  
I'll have on thy Tombstone these Verses inserted,  
Here lies hopeless Jockey, who was so true hearted.   

10.  
And when this thy Motto shall fairly be written,  
There's none shall read but with grief shall be smitten  
And say't was pity that one so true hearted  
Should by cruel death from his Jenny be parted.  
And thus I with weeping, creeping, and peeping  
Look into thy Grave where thou dost lie sleeping  
Till sighing myself I have brought to my end,  
To show that poor Jenny was Jockeys true Friend.    

The Winchester Wedding; or, Ralph of Redding, and Black Bess of the Green.  
To a new Country Dance: or, the King's Jiggy  

1.  
AT Winchester was a Wedding,  
the like was never seen  
'twixt lusty Ralph of Redding,  
and bony black Bess of the Green▪  
The Fiddlers were Crowding before,  
each Lass was as fine as a Queen,  
There was a Hundred and more,  
for all the Country came in:  
Brisk Robin led Rose so fair,  
she looked like a Lily o'th'Vale,  
And Ruddy-faced Harry led Mary,  
And Roger led bouncing Nell.   

2  
With Tommy came smiling Katy,  
he helped her over the Style,  
And swore there was none so pretty,  
in forty and forty long mile:  
Kit gave a Green Gown to Betty,  
and lent her his hand to rise.  
But Jenny was jeered by Watty,  
for looking blue under the eyes:  
Thus merrily chatting all,  
they passed to the Bridehouse along  
With Jonny and pretty faced Nanny,  
the fairest of all the Throng.   

3.  
The Bridegroom came out to meet 'em,  
afraid the Dinner was spoiled,  
And ushered 'em in to Treat 'em,  
with Baked, and Roasted, and Boyl●d;  
The Lads were so frolic and jolly,  
for each had his Love by his side,  
But Willy was Melancholy,  
for he had a mind to the Bride:  
Then Philip begins her Health,  
and turns a Beer-Glass on his Thumb,  
But Jenkin was reckoned for Drinking,  
the best in Christendom.   

4.  
And now they had Dined, advancing  
into the midst of the Hall,  
The Fiddlers struck up for Dancing,  
and Jeremy led up the Brawl;  
But Margery kept a quarter,  
a Lass that was proud of her pelf,  
'Cause Arthur had stolen her Garter,  
and swore he would tie it himself:  
She struggled and blushed, and frowned,  
and ready with anger to Cry,  
'Cause 〈◊〉 with tying her Garter,  
had slipped his hand too high.   

5.  
And now for throwing the Stocking,  
the Bride away was led,  
The Bridegroom got drunk was knocking  
for Candles to light 'em to Bed:  
But Robin that found him silly,  
most friendly took him aside,  
The while that his Wife with Willy,  
was playing at Hoopers-hide;  
And now the warm Game begins,  
the Critical minute was come,  
And Chatting, and Billing, and Kissing,  
went merrily round the Room.   

6.  
Pert Stephen was kind to Betty,  
and blithe as a Bird in the Spring,  
And ●ommy was so to Katy,  
and Wedded her with a Rush Ring:  
Sukey that Danced at the Cushion,  
an hour from the Room had been gone,  
And Barnaby known by her blushing,  
that some other Dance had been done;  
And thus of Fifty fair Maids,  
that came to the Wedding with Men,  
Scarce five of the Fifty was left ye,  
that so did return again.    

A Narrative of the Old Plot, being a New SONG.  
Tune, Some say the papists had a Plot, etc.  

1.  
WHen Traitors did at Popery rail,  
Because it taught Confession:  
When Bankrupts bawled for Property,  
And Bastards for Succession.   

2.  
When Tony durst espouse the Cause,  
Spite of his Pox and Gout:  
When Speaking Williams purged the House  
By spewing Members out.   

3.  
When Hunt a twy-faced Pamphlet wrote,  
the Emblem of his Soul:  
When Oats swore whom he pleased in's Plot▪  
And reigned without Control.   

4.  
When L—ce too lampooned the Court,  
And libelled Cats and Dogs:  
When Witnesses, like Mushrooms, sprung  
Out of the Irish Bogs.   

5.  
Then Perkin thought 'twas time to prove  
His Claim to Kingship fair;  
And i'faith 'tis sit the Peeples Son  
Should be the People's Heir.   

6.  
So filled with Zeal He and his Knight  
Caress and Court the Rout;  
And my Lord Duke goes up and down  
To show his Grace about.   

7.  
Tho' F— d Lord G—y would not engage  
Upon that idle score;  
For He would have a Commonwealth,  
As well as Common whore.   

8.  
He envy●d his old Friend a Crown  
But why I can't devise;  
For's Grace had graced his Lordship's head  
With Horns of noble Size.   

9  
Then Johnson wrote his Patron's Creed,  
A Doctrine fetch't from Hell:  
'Twas Christianlike to disobey,  
And Gospel to Rebel.   

10.  
Julian his Pattern and his Text;  
A meaner Theme He scorns:  
First represents Him at the Desk,  
And then Apostate turns.   

11.  
Like his, his Patron's Zeal grew high,  
Th' Exclusion to advance;  
And the right Heir must be debarred,  
For fear of Rome and France.   

12.  
The Zealous Commons then resolved,  
(And they knew what they did)  
By whomsoever the King should fall,  
The Papists throats should bleed▪   

13.  
So murdering Poniards off are slipped  
Into a guiltless hand:  
And Innocence is sacrificed,  
Whilst Malefactors stand.   

14.  
By Hell's Assistance than they framed  
Their Damned Association:  
And Worthy Men, and Men Worthy,  
Divided all the Nation   

15.  
Fools oft and Madmen leave the less,  
And choose the greater evil:  
Thus They for fear of Popery,  
Run headlong to the Devil.   

16.  
At last the Loyal Souls propose  
To ease their Sovereign's Cares;  
If He'll sit down, and first remove  
Their Jealousies and Fears.   

17.  
Just the old Trick and Shame Device  
Of Belzebub their Sire:  
He but fall down and worship Them,  
They'll grant his hearts desire.   

18.  
Nay Lives and Fortunes than shall be  
Entirely all his own;  
If He will fairly once disclaim  
A Brother and a Crown.    

The Praise of the Dairy-Maid, with a Lick at the Cream-pot, or Fading Rose.  
Tune, Packington's Pound.  

1.  
LEt Wine turn a Spark, & Ale huff like a Hector.  
Let Pluto drink Coffee, & Jove his rich Nectar.  
Neither Cider nor Sherry,  
Metheglin nor Perry,  
Shall more make me Drunk, which the vulgar call Merry:  
These Drinks o'er my Fancy no more shall prevail  
But I'll take a full soop at the merry Milk-Pail.   

2.  
In praise of a Dairy I purpose to sing;  
But all things in order; first God save the King,  
And the Queen I may say,  
That every May-day,  
Has many fair Dairy-Maids all fine and gay.  
Assist me, fair damsels to finish this Theme,  
And inspire my fancy with Strawberries & Cream   

3.  
The first of fair Dairy-Maids, if you'll believe,  
Was Adam's own Wife, your Great-grand-mother Eve;  
She milked many a Cow,  
As well she knew how,  
Tho' Butter was then not so cheap as 'tis now;  
She hoarded no Butter nor Cheese on a Shelf,  
For the Butter and Cheese in those days made itself.   

4.  
In that Age or Time there was no damned Money,  
Yet the Children of Israel fed on Milk & Honey;  
No Queen you could see  
Of the highest Degree,  
But would milk the brown Cow with the meanest she  
Their Lambs gave them Clothing, their Cows gave them Meat.  
In a plentiful Peace all their Joys were complete.   

5.  
But now of the making of Cheese we shall treat,  
That Nurser of Subjects, bold Britain's chief Meat.  
When they first begin it,  
To see how the Rennet  
Begets the first Curd, you would wonder what's in it.  
Then from the blue Whey, when they put the Curds by.  
They look just like Amber, or Clouds in the Sky.   

6.  
Your Turkey Sherbet, and Arabian Tea,  
Is Dish-water-stuff to a Dish of new Whey;  
For it cools Head and Brains,  
Ill Vapours it drains,  
And tho' your Guts rumble, 'twill ●e'r hurt your Brains.  
Court-Ladies i'th' morning will drink a whole Pottle,  
And send out their Pages with Tankard & Bottle.   

7.  
Thou Daughter of Milk, and Mother of Butter,  
Sweet Cream, thy due praises how shall I utter!  
For when at the best,  
A thing's well expressed,  
We are apt to reply, That's the Cream of the Jest:  
Had I been a Mouse, I believe in my Soul  
I had long since been drowned in a Cream-Bowl.   

8  
The Elixir of Milk, the Dutchman's delight,  
By motion and tumbling thou bringest to light;  
But Oh, the soft Stream  
That remains of the Cream!  
Old Morpheus ne'er tasted so sweet in a Dream;  
It removes all Obstructions, depresses the Spleen,  
And makes an old Bawd like a Wench of Fifteen.   

9  
Amongst the rare Virtues that Milk does produce  
A thousand more Dainties are daily in use;  
For a Pudding I'll tell ye,  
E'er it goes in the Belly,  
Must have good Milk, both the Cream & the Jelly;  
For a dainty fine Pudding without Cream or Milk  
Is like a Citizen's Wife without Satin or Silk.   

10.  
In the Virtues of Milk there's more to be mustered  
The charming delights of Cheesecake and Custard;  
For at Totenam-Court  
You can have no Sport,  
Unless you give Custards and Cheesecakes for't:  
And what's Jack Pudding that makes us to laugh,  
Unless he hath got a great Custard to quaff.   

11.  
Both Pancakes & Fritters of Milk have good store  
But a Devonshire Whit-pot requires much more.  
No state you can ●hink,  
Tho' you study and wink,  
From the lusty Sack-posset to poor Posset-drink;  
But Milk's the Ingredient, tho' Sack's ne'er the worse;  
For 'tis Sack makes the Man, tho' Milk makes the Nurse,   

12.  
But now I shall treat of a Dish that is cool,  
A rich clouted Cream, or a Goose-berry-Fool;  
A Lady I heard tell,  
Not far off did dwell,  
Made her Husband a Fool, and yet pleased him full well:  
Give thanks to the Dairy than every Lad,  
That from good-natured Women such Fools may be had.   

13.  
When the damsel has got the Cow's Teat in her hand  
How she merrily sings, while smiling I stand  
Then with pleasure I rub,  
Yet impatient I crub,  
When I think of the Blessings of a Syllabub:  
Oh Dairy-maids, Milkmaids, such Bliss ne'er oppose.  
If e'er you'll be happy; I speak under the Rose.   

14.  
This Rose was a Maiden once of your Profession,  
Till the Rake and the Spade had taken possession;  
At length it was said,  
That one Mr. Edmond  
did both dig and sow in her Parsley bed;  
But the Fool for his labour deserves not a Rush,  
For grafting a Thistle upon a Rose-bush.   

15.  
Now Milk Maids, take warning by this Maiden's fall.  
Keep what is your own, and then you keep all;  
Mind well your Milk-pan,  
And ne'er touch a man,  
And you'll still be a Maid, let him do what he can.  
I am your Wellwisher, then list to my word,  
And give no more Milk than the Cow can afford    

A new SONG Sung before the Loyal Livery-Men in Wistminster-hall July the 19 th'. 16●.  

1.  
HArk! how Noll & B●adshaw's Heads above us  
Cry, come, come, ye Whigs that love us:  
Come, ye faithful Sons, fall down, and adore ye  
Your Fathers, whose Glory  
Was to kill Kings before ye;  
From Treason & Plots let your grave Heads adjourn,  
And our glorious Pinnacle adorn.  
What though the Scaffolds all are down here,  
To entertain the Friends of the Crown here?  
We, whose Lives & whose Fortunes Great Charles will maintain,  
For Monarchy-haters,  
Damned Associators,  
Whigs, Bastards and Traitors,  
We'll build 'em, we'll build 'em again,  
Let the infamous Cut threats of Princes be shamm'd all.  
Their black Souls be damned all,  
Their Blunderbuss rammed all  
With Brimstone and Fire infernal;  
The Gods that look o'er Him  
Did by Wonders restore Him,  
Their Angels sat round Him  
That hour they Crowned Him,  
And were listed His Guards Eternal.   

2.  
How, like Jove, the Monarch of Great-Britain  
Drives the Gyant-Sons of Titan!  
Down ye Rebel-Crew; ye Slaves, lie under:  
See! Charles with His Thunder  
Has dashed 'em all asunder;  
Down from His bright Heaven the Aspirers are hurled,  
Lost in the common Rubbish of the World:  
See, how the God returns Victorious!  
And to make His Triumph still more Glorious,  
See, the whole Hosts of Heaven the proud Conqueror meet.  
The Stars burn all brighter,  
The Sun mounts uprighter,  
Whilst his Steeds gallop lighter,  
To see, see their Jove made so Great:  
With the brands & the stings of a Conscience disloyal  
From the fiery Trial,  
Let the Coward Slaves fly all,  
Leave Vengeance and Gibbets behind 'em;  
Whilst the great Desperadoes  
All turned Renegadoes,  
With their old Friends took napping,  
In some Coal-hole at Wapping  
Shall Charles and His Justice find find.   

3.  
Let the malice of Fanatic Roundhead  
(Hatched in Hell) be still confounded;  
The Royal Brothers no Storm ere sever,  
But new Wonders deliver,  
And their Heirs Reign for ever,  
On England's bright Throne sit till Times last Sand runs,  
And stop their Glories Chariot with the Suns.  
Then for Charles' second Restauration,  
Snatched from the Jaws of the Imps of Damnation,  
We with Feast & Revels will cheer up our Souls  
For the safety of Caesar,  
In Joy, and in Pleasure,  
Till our Hearts shall o'erflow like our Bowls.  
For a Health to Great Charles, let the Goblets be crowned there,  
The Huzza go round there,  
To the Skies let it sound there,  
Up to th' Throne of Great Charles' Protector,  
Till the pleased Gods that see, Boys,  
Grow as Merry as we, Boys,  
Join their Spheres in the Chorus,  
Make their whole heavens out-roar us,  
And pledge us in Bumpers of Nectar.    

A Narrative of the Popish-Plot, showing the cunning contrivance thereof.  
Tune, Packington 's Pound.  

The Contents of the First Part.  
How Sir Godfrey is killed, his Body they hide,  
Which brought out in Chair, a Horseback does ride;  
How Jesuits disguised our Houses to fire;  
How subtly they Plot, and the King's death conspire;  
Of divers great Lords drawn in, to their Bane,  
An Irish Army, and Pilgrims from Spain.  

1.  
GOod People, I pray you, give ear unto me.  
A Story so strange you have never been told  
How the Jesuit, Devil and Pope did agree  
Our State to destroy, and Religion so old:  
To murder our King,  
A most horrible thing!  
But first of Sir Godfrey his death I must sing;  
For howe'er they disguissed, we plainly can see,  
Who murdered that Knight, no good Christian could be.  
The truth of my Story if any man doubt,  
We have Witnesses ready to swear it all out.   

2.  
At Somerset house, there is plain to be seen  
A Gate which will lead you into the back-Court;  
This place for the Murder most sitting did seem,  
For thither much People do freely resort:  
His Body they tossed  
From Pillar to ●ost,  
And shifted so often, 't'had like t'have been lost;  
To which with darklanthorn the Jesuits did go,  
But no ways disinherited our honest Bedlow.  
The truth of my Story, &c   

3.  
Lest such close Contrivements at length might take air,  
When as his dead Body corrupted did grow,  
They quickly did find an invisible Chair,  
And set him on Horseback to ride at Sohoe:  
His own Sword to th' Hilt.  
To add to their Gild,  
They thrust through his Body, but no blood was spilt;  
T'have it thought he was killed by a Thief they did mean,  
So they left all's Money, and made his Shoes clean.  
The truth of my Story etc.   

4.  
To show now th' excess of Jesuitical Rage,  
They this Loyal City to ruin would bring,  
'Cause you Citizens are so religious and sage,  
And ever much noted as true to your King:  
T'your Houses they go  
With Fire and with Tow,  
Then pilfer your Goods, & 'tis well you 'scape so;  
Y'have seen how they once set the Town all in flame;  
Yet 'tis their best Refuge, if we believe Fame.  
The Truth of my Story, etc.   

5.  
By Bedlow's Narration is shown you most clear,  
How Jesuits disguss●d into Houses will creep;  
In a Porter's or Carman's Frock they appear,  
Nay, will not disdain to cry Chimney sweep;  
Or sell you Small Cole,  
Then drop in some hole  
A Fireball, or thrust it up by a long Pole.  
But I now must relate a more tragical thing,  
How these Villains conspired to Murder our King.  
The Truth of my Story, etc.   

6.  
At the White-horse in April was their main Consul●▪  
Where a Writing these Plotters wickedly frame;  
The Death of our Sovereign was the result,  
To which at least Forty all signed their name:  
They would not do that,  
In the place where they sat,  
Trusty Oats must conveyed from this man to that;  
To make sure work, by Poison the Deed must be done  
And by a long Dagger, and shot from a Gun.  
The truth of my Story. etc.   

7.  
For fear at St. Omers their Oats might be missed,  
They agreed with the Devil t'appear in his place,  
In a Body of Air, (believe't if you list)  
Which looked just like Oats▪ & moved with the same grace.  
'T could Plot, it could Cant,  
Turn eyes like a Saint,  
And of our great Doctor no feature did want:  
Thus hundreds might swear they saw Oats every day  
But true Oats was here, and the Devil say they.  
The truth of my Story, etc.   

8.  
From Father Oliva Commissions did come,  
To raise a great Army much Treasure is spent;  
The old Man did once think to take Post from Rome  
For to ride at the head of them was his intent;  
Lord Bellas was sit  
(Who can deny it?  
To command in his place, when his Gout would permit;  
Lord Stafford was proper'st to trust with their pay  
Old Ratcliff to range them in Battle-Array.  
The truth of my Story, etc.   

9  
Th' High-Treasurers place the L. Powis did please,  
(Men of desperate Fortunes oft venture too far;)  
Lord Peter would hazard Estate, and his Ease,  
And Life for the Pope too, in this holy War;  
Lord Ar'ndel, of old  
So warlike and bold,  
Made choice of a Chancellor's Gown we are told;  
All these did conspire with the Lord Castlemain,  
Who now his good Duchess will ne'er catch again  
The Truth of my Story, etc.   

10.  
Great store of wild Irish, both civil and wise,  
Designed to join with the Pilgrims of Spain;  
Many thousands being ready all in good guise,  
Had vowed a long Pilgrimage over the Main;  
To arm well this Host  
When it came on our Coast,  
Black Bills forty thousand are sent by the Post,  
This Army lay privately on the Sea shore,  
And no man e'er heard of 'em since or before.  
The Truth of my Story, etc.    

The Second PART. The Contents of the second Part.  

Of Arms underground for Horse and for Foot,  
The King almost killed, but Gun will not shoot,  
For which Pickring is whipped. All of them swear  
To be true to the Plot; yet Oats, not for Fear,  
But Revenge, being turned away, and well hanged,  
Discovers them all; the Jesuits are hanged.   

1.  
The Plot being thus subtly contrived, as you hear,  
To God knows how many this Secret th' impart;  
Some famous for Cheats, yet their Faith they don't fear  
To tie a Knave fast they had found a new Art.  
They swore on a Book,  
And Sacrament took;  
But you'll find, if into their grave Authors you look,  
To forswears no sin (as th' Recorder well notes)  
Nor Treason, Rebellion, nor cutting of Throats.  
The Truth of my Story, etc.   

2.  
Still blinded by Zeal, and inveigled by Hope,  
Store of Arms they provide for Fight & Defence;  
The Lords must command as Vice-Roys of the Pope,  
And all over England they raise Peter-pences:  
Their Letters they send  
By Bedlow their Friend,  
Or else by the Post, to show what they intent;  
Some hundreds Oats saw, which the Jesuits ●id write  
'Tis a wonder not one of them e'er came to light.  
The truth of my Story, etc.   

3.  
Pounds two hundred thousand they to Ireland sent,  
Fifteen thousand to Wakeman for Potions and Pills,  
Forty thousand in Fireworks we guess that they spent,  
And at least ten thousand for the 'foresaid Black-Bills  
Fifteen hundred more  
Grove should have, they swore,  
Four Gentleman-Russians deserved Fourscore;  
Pious Pickering they knew was of Masses more fond;  
And for thirty thousand they gave him a Bond.  
They truth of my Story, etc.   

4  
These two, to kill the King by promises won,  
Had now watched for some years in St. James' Park,  
And Pickering (who never yet shot off a Gun)  
Was about to take aim, for he had a fair mark;  
Just going to begined,  
He miss his Flint,  
And looking in Pan, there was no Powder in't;  
For which he their Pardon does humbly beseech,  
Yet had thirty good lashes upon his bare Breech.  
The truth of my Story, etc.   

5  
But a sadder mischance to the Plot did befall,  
For Oats their main Engine failed, when it came to't  
No marvel indeed if he cozened them all,  
Who turned him a begging and beat him to boot.  
He wheeling about,  
The whole Party did rout  
And from lurking holes did ferret them out,  
Till running himself blind; he none of them knew,  
And fainting at Council, he could not swear true.  
The truth of my Story, etc.   

6.  
To strengthen our Doctor, brave Bedlow's brought in,  
A more credible Witness was not aboveground;  
He vows and protests, what e'er he had been,  
He would not swear false now for five hundred pound  
And why should we swear,  
They falsely would swear,  
To damn their own Souls, and to lose by it here;  
For Oats, who before had no penny in Purse  
Discovering the Plot, was seven hundred pound worse.  
The truth of my Story, etc.   

7▪  
Two Witnesses more were let loose from the Jail,  
Though one, 'tis confessed, did run back from his word;  
(In danger of life a good man may be frail)  
And th' other they slander for cheating his Lord▪  
T'each one of these men  
The Jesuits brought Ten,  
To disprove 'em in time & in place; but what then?  
One Circumstance lately was sworn most clear,  
By a Man who in hopes has four hundred a year.  
The truth of my Story, etc.   

8.  
Besides 'twas oft urged, we must always suppose,  
To murder the King a great Plot there has been;  
And who to contrive it so likely as those  
Who Murder and Treasons do hold for no sin;  
Things being thus plain,  
To plead was in vain,  
The Jury instructed again and again,  
Did find them all Guilty, & to show 'twas well done  
The People gave a Shout for Victory won.   

9  
'Tis strange how these Jesuits, so subtle and wise,  
Should all the Pope be so basely trepanned,  
To hang with much comfort when he shall advise,  
And go to the Devil too at his command.  
He may give them leave  
To lie and deceive;  
But what when the Rope does of Life them bereave  
Can his Holiness, think you, dispense with that pain  
Or by his Indulgences raise them again?  
The truth of my Story, etc.   

1O.  
Yet, like Mad men, of Life and Contempt they express  
And of their own happiness careless appear;  
For Life and for Money not one would confess,  
They'd rather be Damned than be Rich & live here.  
But surely they raved,  
When God they outbraved,  
And thought to renounce him the way to be saved,  
And with Lies in their mouths go to Heaven in a string  
So prosper all Traitors, and God save the King.  
The truth of my Story, etc.  
Concordat cum Kecordo Cl. Par.     

A general Sale of Rebellious Householdstuff.  
Tune, Old Simon the King.  

1.  
REbellion hath broken up House,  
And hath left me old Lumber to sell;  
Come hither and take your choice;  
I'll promise to use you well.  
Will you buy the old Speaker's Chair,  
Which was warm, and easy to sit-in,  
And oftentimes hath been made clean,  
When as it was fouler than sitting,  
Says old Simon the King,  
Says old Simon the King,  
With threadbare clothes, and his mamsy Nose,  
Sing hay ding, ding, a ding ding.   

2.  
Will you buy any Bacon-flitches?  
They're the fattest that ever were spent;  
They're the sides of the Old Committees,  
Fed up with th' Long Parliament.  
Here's a pair of Bellows and Tongues,  
And for a small matter I'll sell 'em;  
They're made of the Presbyters Lungs,  
To blow up the Coals of Rebellion,  
Says old Simon the King, etc.   

3.  
I had thought to have given them once  
To some Blacksmith for his Forge;  
But, now I have considered on't,  
They're Consecrated to the Church;  
For I'll give them to some Choir,  
To make the Organs to roar,  
And the little Pipes squeak higher  
Than ever they did before,  
Says old Simon the King, etc.   

4.  
Here's a couple of Stools for sale,  
The one square, and t'other is round;  
Betwixt them both, the Tail  
Of the RUMP fell unto the ground.  
Will you buy the State's Council-Table,  
Which was made of the good Wain- Scot;  
The frame was a tottering Babel,  
To uphold the Independent-Plot?  
Says old Simon the King, etc.   

5.  
Here's the Besom of Reformation,  
Which should have made clean the Floor;  
But it swept the Wealth out of th' Nation,  
And left us Dirt good store.  
Will you buy the State's Spinning-wheel,  
Which spun for the Ropers Trade?  
But better it had stood still,  
For now it has spun a fair Thread,  
Says old Simon the King, etc.   

6.  
Here's a very good Clyster-pipe,  
Which was made of a Butcher's stump;  
And ofttimes it hath been used  
To cure the Colds of the RUMP.  
Here's a lump of Pilgrims-Salve,  
Which once was a Justice of Peace,  
Who Nol and the Devil did serve;  
But now it is come to This,  
Says old Simon the King, etc.   

7.  
Here's a Roll of State's Tobacco,  
If any Good Fellow will take it:  
It's neither Virginia nor Spanish,  
But I'll tell you how they do make it;  
'Tis Covenant mixed with Engagement,  
With an Abjuration-Oath;  
And many of them that did take it  
Complain it is foul in the mouth,  
Says old Simon the King, etc.   

8.  
Yet the Ashes may happily serve  
To Cure the Scab of the Nation,  
When they have an Itch to serve  
A Rebellion by Innovation.  
A Lantern here is be bought,  
The like was scarce e'er begotten;  
For many a Plot 't has found out,  
Before they ever were thought on,  
Says old Simon the King, etc.   

9  
Will you buy the Rumpus ●s great Saddle  
Which once did carry the Nation?  
And here's the Bit and the Bridle,  
And Curb of Dissimulation  
Here's the Breeches of the Rump,  
With a fair dissembling Cloak,  
And a Presbyterian Jump,  
With an Independent Smock,  
Says old Simon the King, etc.   

10.  
Here's Oliver's Brewing-Vessels.  
And here's his Dray and his Slings,  
Here's Hewson's Awl and his Bristles,  
With divers other odd things.  
And what doth the Price belong  
To all these matters before-ye?  
I'll sell them all for an Old Song,  
And so I do end my story,  
Says old Simon the King,  
Says old Simon the King,  
With his thread bare clothes, and his mainsey Nose,  
Sing hay ding, ding, a ding ding.    

Advice to the City: or, the Whigs Loyalty.  
To a Theorbo.  

1.  
REmember ye Whigs what was formerly done,  
Remember your Mischiefs in Forty and One,  
When Friend opposed Friend, and Father the Son,  
Then, than the Old Cause went rarely on;  
The Cap sat aloft, and low was the Crown,  
The Rabble got up, and the Nobles went down;  
Lay Elders in Tubs,  
Ruled Bishops in Robes,  
Who mourned the sad Fate  
And dreadful Disaster,  
Of their Royal Master,  
By Rebels betrayed.  
Then London be wise, and baffle their Power.  
And let them play the old Game no more;  
Hang, hang up the Sheri●●●  
Th● Barnes 〈◊〉 in Power,  
Those 〈…〉,  
Thos● Rats of the ●ower,  
Whose Canting Tales the Rabble believes,  
In a hurry▪  
And never sorry▪  
Merrily they still go on,  
Fie for shame,  
We're too tame, since they claim the combat;  
Tan, ta, ra, ra, ra,  
Tan, ta, ra, ra, ra;  
Dub, a dub, and let the Drum beat,  
The strong Militia guard the Throne.   

2.  
When Faction possesses the popular Voice,  
The Cause is supplied still with Nonsense & noise;  
And Toney their Speaker, the Rabble leads on,  
He knows if we prosper, that he must run.  
Carolina must be his next Station of ease,  
And London be rid of her worst Disease.  
From Plots and from Spies,  
From Treason and Lie,  
We shall ever be free,  
And the Law shall be able,  
To punish a Rebel  
As cunning as he.  
Then London be wise, etc.   

3.  
Rebellion ne'er wanted a Loyal pretence;  
These Villains swear all's for the good of their Prince:  
Oppose our Elections, to show what they dare,  
And losing their Charter, Arrest the Lord Mayor.  
Fool Jenks was the first o'th' Cuckoldly Crew,  
With Ellis, and Jeykel, and Hubland the Jew.  
Famed Sparks of the Town,  
For Wealth and Renown,  
Give the Devil his due,  
And such as we fear,  
Had their Sovereign been there,  
Th'had Arrested Him too.  
Then London be wise, etc.    

Blanket Fair, or the History of Temple-street. Being a Relation of the merry Pranks played on the River of Thames during the great Frost.  
Tune, Packington's Pound  

1.  
COme listen a while (though the Wether be cold)  
In your Pockets & Plackets your Hands you may hold.  
I●ll tell you a Story as true as 'tis rare,  
Of a River turned into a Bartholomew Fair.  
Since old Christmas lust  
There has been such a Frost,  
That the Thames has by half the whole Nation been crossed.  
O Scullers I pity your fate of Extremes,  
Each Land-man is now become free of the Thames.   

2.  
'Tis some ●a●land Acquaintance of Conjurer Oates,  
That has tied up your Hands & imprisoned your Boats  
You know he was ever a friend to the Crew  
Of all that to Admiral James has been true.  
Where Sculls once did Row  
Men walk to and fro,  
But ere four months are ended ' will hardly be so.  
Should your hopes of a Tha● by this weather be crossed,  
Your Fortunes would soon be as hard as the Frost.   

3.  
In Roast Beef and Brand▪ much money is spent  
In Booths made of Blankets that pay no Ground-rent  
With old fashioned Chimneys the Rooms are secured  
And the Houses from danger of Fire insured.  
The chief place you meet  
Is called Temple-street,  
If you do not believe me, than you may go see't.  
From the Temple the Students do thither resort,  
Who were always great Patrons of Revels & sport.   

4.  
The citizen comes with his Daughter or Wife,  
And swears he ne'er saw such a sight in his life:  
The Prentices starved at home for want of Opals,  
To catch them a heat do flock thither in shoals,  
While the Country Squire  
Does stand and admire  
At the wondrous conjunction of Water and Fire.  
Straight comes an arch Wag, a young Son of a Whore,  
And lays the Squire's head where his heels ●ere before.   

5.  
The Rotterdam Dutchman with fleet cutting Scates,  
To pleasure the crowd shows his tricks & his feats,  
Who like a Rope-dancer (for all his sharp Steels)  
His Brains and activity lie in his Heels.  
Here are all things like fate  
Are in slippery state,  
From the sole of the Foot to the crown of the Pate.  
While the Rabble in Sledges run giddily round,  
And nought but a circle of folly is found.   

6.  
Here Damsels are handed like Nymphs in the Bath,  
By Gentleman-ushers with Legs like a Lath;  
They slide to a Tune, and cry give me your Hand,  
When the tottering Fops are scarce able to stand.  
Then with fear and with care  
They arrive at the Fair,  
Where Wenches sell Glasses & cracked Earthen ware;  
To show that the World, & the pleasures it brings,  
Are made up of brittle and slippery things.   

7.  
A Spark of the Bar with his Cane and his Muff,  
One day went to treat his new rigged Kitchinstuff,  
Let slip from her Gallant, the gay Damsel tried  
(As oft she had done in the Country) to slide,  
In the way lay a stump,  
That with a damned Thump,  
She broke both her Shoestrings & crippled her Rump.  
The heat of her Buttocks made such a great thaw.  
She had like to have drowned the man of the Law.   

8.  
All you that are warm both in Body and Purse,  
I give you this warning for better or worse,  
Be not there in the Moonshine pray take my advice  
For slippery things have been done on the Ice.  
Maids there have been said  
To lose Maidenhead,  
And Sparks from full Pockets gone empty to Bed.  
If their Brains and their Bodies had not been too warm,  
'Tis forty to one they had come to less harm.    

Freezland-Fair, or the Icey Bear-Garden.  
Tune, Packington's Pound.  

1.  
I'Ll tell ye a Tale tho' before 'twas in Print)  
If you make nothing on't, than the Devil is in't  
'Tis no tale of a Tub, nor the Plotting of Treason,  
But of very strange things have been done this strange Season.  
Ye know there's a Brook,  
No, no, I mistook,  
For I could not find it, tho' long I did look;  
Yet I do not question, for all these odd freaks,  
We shall find it again when-e're the Frost breaks.   

2.  
If ye do believe what was told us by Oats,  
Ye never again will have use of your Boats;  
Without ye do now employ th' Wheelers to do't,  
Ye never ne'er will be able to bring all about.  
He talked of a Plot,  
Believe it, or not,  
To blow up the Thames, and to do't on the Spot;  
Then either the Doctor must now be believed,  
Or else the Doctor and we are deceived   

3.  
No Water I see which does fairly incline,  
To make me believe that he has Sprung his Mine;  
Tho' that did not do what the Doctor intended,  
Yet he may for one thing be said to be commended:  
He said that the Pope,  
Pray mind, 'tis a Trope,  
Would send us his Bulls, by the way of the Hope;  
And tho' for the sight we have all along been waiting  
I t'other day saw on the Ice a Bull-baiting.   

4.  
I hope you'll believe me, 'twas a fine Sight,  
As ever I saw on a Queen Bess' Night;  
Tho' I must confess I saw no such Dogs there,  
As used to attend on th' Infallible Chair.  
Yet there were some Men.  
Whom I knew again,  
Who bawled as they did, when they chose Aldermen.  
And Faith it had been a most excellent Show.  
Had there been but some Crackers and Serpents to throw.   

5.  
Another thing pleased me, as I hope for Life,  
I saw of a Man that had gotten a Wife  
To see the rare Whimsies, the Woman was sick,  
So never suspected a slippery Trick:  
But when she came there,  
The Ice would not bear,  
But whether 'twas his fault or hers, I can't swear;  
Yet thus far is true, had he lost his Wife,  
He then might have prayed for a Frost all his life   

6.  
There's very fine Tricks, & new subject for Laughter,  
For there you may take a Coach and go by Water,  
So get a Tarpauling too, as you are Jogging,  
Tho' a Nymph t'other day for it got a good Flogging.  
There was an old Toast,  
Of Beef had a Roast,  
Which fell into th' Cellar, and fairly was lost.  
O see in old Proverbs sometimes there is truth,  
A man is not sure of his Meat till in's Mouth.   

7.  
But I had forgot my chief bus●ness I swear,  
To give an Account of new Temple street Fair;  
Where most of the Students do daily resort,  
To show the great love they had always for sport.  
Who oft give a Token,  
I hope't may be spoken,  
To Whore in a Mask, who squeaks like a Pig a Poke in  
To see such cracked Vessels sail is a new matter,  
Who have been so shattered between Wind & Water.   

8.  
Like Babel this Fair's not built with Brick or stone  
Though here I believe is as great Confusion;  
Now Blanckets are forced double Duty to pay,  
On Beds all the night, and for Houses all day;  
But there's something more,  
Some people deplore,  
Their carelessly leaving open Cellar door,  
Which puts me in mind of Jack Presbyter's trick,  
Who from Pulpit descends the like way to old Nick,   

9  
Come all ye young Damsels both swarthy and fair,  
This is the best place to put off your Cracked Ware;  
Here's Chapmen good store who too't stiffly will stand,  
And scorn to put Coin that is false in your Hand:  
While you're there abiding,  
And on the Ice Gliding,  
Let 'em say what they will, 'tis but a back-sliding:  
But if ye should Prove, then say I am a Prophet,  
Tho' 'tis a slippery trick there shall come no more of it   

10.  
There's many more Tricks, but too long to be told,  
Which are not all new, tho' there's none of 'em old  
There's the Fellow that Printeth the Old Bailey Trial  
Who to all the dull Printers does give a Denial;  
He'll Print for a S●ce,  
(For that is his price  
Your Name (that you brag may 'twas done) on the Ice.  
And Faith I do think it a very fine thing,  
So my Tale's at an end, but first, God save the King,    

Toney's Soliloquies.  
Tune, The Lamentation of a bad Market.  

1.  
WHen the Plot I first invented,  
I was ravished in conceit,  
To see its Frame so well cemented,  
Varnished over with Deceit.  
It was an Infant of my Spirit,  
Nay, the Darling of my Soul,  
If its contrivance be a Merit,  
By Jove the Cooper did well Boul.   

2.  
For to give this Engine Motion,  
To arrive where it did tend,  
I filled the Vulgar ears with ' Notions,  
And Gospel of my Oaten Friend;  
I antedated all Transactions,  
Distinguished Styles of New and Old,  
In the State I made such Fractions;  
Some I Bought, and some I Sold.   

3.  
The Mobile I so distempered,  
With the Magic of my Care,  
None but would his Soul have ventured  
Where brave Toney bore a Share;  
Have I not in Abomination  
Held the Mitre and Lawn Sleeves,  
And Itched at a second Sequestration,  
To pull down such Ghostly Thiefs.   

4.  
Have I not Taught the Sanhedrim▪  
To Imperate and not Obey?  
Th' had Genuflections done to them,  
Which men to Crowned Heads do pay.  
Then would I Barter for Repeal  
O'th' Five and Thirtieth of Q. Bess,  
To make a way for Commonweal,  
(The Centre of our Happiness.)   

5.  
How many hot and high Debates,  
In favour of th' Exclusive Bill,  
I bandied 'twixt the two Estates,  
Th' effects of my depraved will!  
By Subornation, to the Block  
I brought, a Loyal Noble Peer;  
And trusted others to that Lock,  
Which cost my Buck and me so dear.   

6.  
In fine, poor profligated Wretch,  
For to indulge my Minion Spite,  
My Seared Conscience I did stretch,  
And did Old Rowley's Guards Indict  
I did espouse all Wickedness,  
And only loved what's purely Evil;  
In that alone was my excess;  
Then take thy own Associate, Devil.    

Rejoice in Triumph, Or a Plaudite on the Ottamens' defeat at Vienna.  
Tune, Hark how the thundering Connons roar.  

1.  
I'M glad to hear the Cannons roar  
Resounding from the Germane shore,  
Better News than heretofore,  
That Babel's Beast is wounded;  
The Christians brave, both all and some  
Charge with the Horse and Kettledrum,  
The Enemy of Christendom,  
Till ●urks are quite confounded.   

2.  
The King of Poland (in a Phrase)  
The great Grand-Seigneur did amaze,  
And the noise his Siege did raise,  
Courageous Solymannus!  
(If you resolve to come again)  
You must recruit both might and main,  
Or else it will be all in vain,  
To think that thy'l trepan us.   

3.  
His Christian Majesty of France  
Doth Booty play, the Germans dance,  
And he doth laugh at our mischance,  
Himself he dare not venture;  
But Pimp the Beast, and Babel's Whore,  
And he bopeep stands at the door,  
While the wanton Cannon roar,  
Then Hector-like he'll enter.   

4.  
But spite on Turk, and Great Mogul,  
And Pox upon the Scarlet Trull,  
And we Poppy too dare pull,  
If Charles be our Commander;  
For though He Neutral seem to be,  
He can command both Land and Sea,  
And overthrow the big-looked Three,  
And trace brave Alexander.   

5.  
Then let no rancour joined with hate  
Make Ruptures in the Church or State,  
But all submit to Divine Fate,  
And keep within our Border;  
Let none old England then forsake,  
(Since Crowns and Kingdoms lie at Stake)  
If Foreign War to undertake,  
Till Charles get further Order.   

6.  
The Germans tall that heretofore,  
They Captive took one Bull and Boar,  
The Minotaurus of a Whore,  
Did roar like any Thunder;  
Then P. P. how could this be  
The Great Gibraltar of the Sea?  
Whose Army was to Fight with thee  
And force the World to wonder.   

7.  
But Ottomon pray get you gone,  
We Christians do but draw you on;  
We'll greater Booty have, or none,  
And if you'll not prevent it;  
If ever you turn your Face this way  
We'll make the Cannon music play,  
And you shall Dance the English Hay,  
Till all your bones lament it.   

8.  
Our Royal James will make you know  
The sharpness of a Yorkshire Ho,  
And prove by Land, and Sea your Foe  
If Charles command to do it;  
Both England, Scotland, Dutch and Dane,  
And all his Islands of the M●●h  
Will not be able to refrain;  
If he once say do it.   

9  
Then fill the Pisspot to the Swine,  
Heap me a rousing Glass of Wine,  
The dancing Thames shall pledge the Rhine  
And Tiber shall be Praeses;  
Then here's to Charles that rules the Main,  
To Poland, Holland, Scot and Dane,  
To Germany, and brave Lorraine;  
But pray you polus ne sis.    

Cupid turned Musqueteer.  
Tune, Which no body can deny.  
ALas what's is like to become of the Plot  
Now To●ey ●s dead, and Titus is go●  
In so fair a prospect of going to Pot?  
Which no body can deny.  
They say he has lately revived an old trick,  
Which he used as a Medicine when he was Love sick,  
Page, Bailiff or Bum to take in the Nick,  
Which no body can deny.  
Now Titus for one of his Saints Tutelars,  
Had got a young Fellow as Brawny as Mars,  
With a thousand invincible Charms in his A—  
Which no body can deny.  
A large pair of Buttocks as ever was seen,  
With a delicate Nut-brown hole between,  
And rascally Cupid lay lurking Within.  
Which no body can deny.  
Whence Centinel-like with his Gun in his hand,  
He spied out the Doctor & charged him to stand,  
Not doubting but He would obey his command  
Which no body can deny.  
But he disobeyed; which when Cupid espied,  
He quickly presented: Have-at-you he cried,  
And lodged him a Bullet in his left side,  
Which no body can deny, etc.  
'Tis true he was armed (as Poets have told)  
With only a Bow and a Quiver of old,  
And Arrows for Love, which were headed with Gold,  
Which no &c.  
Which still he does use, as h'has formerly done,  
When th'old way of Loving he means to drive on  
But for this new way he makes use of a Gun,  
Which no, etc.  
The Gun went off bounce, yet the Dr. ne'er started  
Which was some effect of his being stouthearted,  
For he only thought that the Fellow had farted,  
Which no body can deny.  
But quickly he found he had cause to repent it,  
For Cupid had poisoned the shot●e●r he sent it,  
With something so strong, you might easily scent it.  
Which no body can deny.  
This poison so basely debases Love's Fires,  
That the foulest of object▪ ●he Lover admires,  
And so it inclined the good Doctor's Desires,  
Which no body can deny.  
For he fell in love ('tis a kind of a Riddle)  
Immediately with this great Fellows Bumfiddle;  
But chiefly he s●irkt at the Slit in the middle,  
Which no body can deny.  
Quoth he in a rage, What a plague have you done?  
Your Barrel is foul, I'll lay Twenty to One;  
But I have a Rammer will scour your Gun,  
Which no body can deny.  
Nay, never refuse, but leave off your winking;  
There's no body near, & 'tis just to my thinking,  
That I should chastise you thus for your stinking  
Which no body can deny.  
So down went the Breeches, and he fell to work;  
About him he laid, as he had been a Turk:  
And so this great business was done with a Jerk,  
Which no body can deny.  
And truly the business was great in its kind;  
For the Fellow was very well scoured behind,  
And the Dr. was eased both in Body and Mind,  
Which no body can deny.   

No Protestent-Plot; or, the Whigs Loyalty With the Doctor's New Discovery,  

1.  
Hell's restless Factious Agents still Plot on,  
And Eighty Three smells rank of Forty One;  
The Royal Martyrs Foes pursue his Son,  
Who seek their Lives with Blunderbuss and Guns;  
The Infernal Regicides so inflamed with Zeal,  
Are for kill King & Duke, t'Erect a Commonweal  
This is the daily Trade & practice of our Modern whigs,  
Tho' they're always baffled in their damned Intrigues.   

2.  
What! Ho! cries Titus, rise ye sleepy Heads,  
Unless you'll all be Murdered in your Beds;  
Fierce Hannibal of France is at your Gate,  
Come Rascals, Mutiny e'er 'tis too late:  
The Spanish Pilgrims once hired to cut your Throats  
Are Landed now at Milford Haven, believe your Saviour Oats;  
And the Horrid Popish Army, that were hid under Ground,  
Are, I'll take my Oath, within a Trumpets Sound.   

3.  
See there, a Fight Army in the Air!  
But now it vanishes, and disappears;  
A Spectre told strange Things to Honest Bess,  
Which much amazed the Hatfield Prophetess;  
I told 'em true at first, what Black Designs would be  
Carry●d on against the King, and Royal Alban●,  
By the discontented whigs; but Rebel Tony since,  
Made me contradict my former evidence.   

4.  
I've lost my Swearing Trade, now by this Hand,  
Must I be forced to starve, or leave the Land●  
My injured Prince has long since on me frowned,  
For Perjuries against his Life and Crown:  
I'll follow Rumbold, Wade, Nelthrop, Walcot, Hone,  
With that Cruel Bloodhound Barton, who've all fled the Town;  
For if I carry here any longer, I harbour dreadful Fears,  
That I shall be Hanged, or forfeit both my Ears.   

5.  
Unparallelled Assassins, that could dare  
To attempt the Life of Jove's Vicegerent here:  
Of whom the Gods do take such special care,  
None ought to mutter Treason to the Air;  
But cutthroat Protestants may do any thing,  
And Inform the Roman Catholics how to Murder Kings;  
They take it in great Dudgeon to be equalised  
Yet their Hellish Crimes must pass for Loyalty.   

6.  
But thanks to Heaven, who did curb their Power,  
And has preserved us from that Fatal Hour:  
When Villains were to Massacre us all,  
And Noll's Successors to possess Whitehall;  
Rumsey has taken up White hall for his Bower,  
And the Lord Russel is gone to fortify the Tower:  
Whilst we that stand for Church and State, with great security can Sing.  
And Pray Jove to preserve the Life of Charles our King.    

The Loyal Conquest, or Destruction of Treason.  
Tune, Lay by your Pleading, the Law ly's a Bleeding.  

1.  
NOw Loyal Tories  
May Triumph in Glories,  
The Fatal Plot is now betrayed,  
The rest were sham's and Stories.  
Now against Treason,  
We have Law and Reason;  
And ev'ry Bloody Whig must go,  
To Pot in Time and Season.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming,  
No Ramming, nor Damning,  
No Ignoramus Jury's now,  
For Whigs, but only Hanging,   

2.  
Look a little farther,  
Place things in order,  
Those that seek to Kill their King,  
Godfrey might Murder,  
Now they're Detected,  
By Heaven Neglected;  
In black despair cut their Throats,  
Thus Pluto's Work's effected.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming, etc.   

3.  
Catch grows in Passion,  
And fears this New Fashion;  
Lest every Traitor hang himself,  
And spoil his best Profession.  
Tho' four in a Morning  
Tyburn Adorning;  
He Cries out for a Score a time,  
To get his Men their Learning.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming, etc.   

4.  
Now we have founded  
The bottom which confounded,  
Our Plotting Parliament of late  
Who had our King surrounded.  
Hamden and others,  
And Trenchard were Brothers;  
Who were to kill the King and Duke  
And hang us for their Murders.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming, etc.   

5.  
Surprising the Tower  
And Court in an Hour,  
And enter in at the Traitor's Gate,  
But was not in their Power.  
Our Guards now are Doubled,  
ere long they will be Trebled,  
The Harmony of Gun and Drum,  
Makes Guilty Conscience Troubled.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming, etc.   

6.  
If Grey is Retaken,  
The Root o'th' Plot is shaken,  
Russel lately lost his Head,  
The Bleeding Cause to Waken.  
M— h in Town still,  
With Armstrong his Council▪  
The Lady G G —y may find him out,  
Under some Smock or Gown still.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming, etc.   

7.  
Give 'em no Quarter,  
They Aim at Crown, and Garter,  
They're of that Bloody Regiment,  
That made their King a Martyr.  
Leave none to breed on,  
They'd make us to bleed on;  
They are the bloody'st Cannibals  
That ever men did Read on.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming,  
No Ramming nor Damning,  
No Ignoramus Jury's now,  
For whigs, b●t only Hanging.    

State and Ambition, A New SONG at the Duke's Theatre.  

STate and Ambition alas will deceive ye,  
there's no solid joy but the Blessing of Love,  
Scorn does of pleasure fair Silvia bereave ye,  
your fame is not perfect till that you remove:  
Monarch's that sway the vast Globe in their glory  
now Love is their brightest jewel of Power,  
Poor Strephon's heart was ordained to adore ye,  
ah! then disdain his Passion no more.   

2.  
Jove in his Throne was the Victim of Beauty,  
his thunder laid by he from Heaven came down  
Shaped like a Swan, to fair Leda paid duty,  
and prized her far more, than his Heavenly Crown  
She too was pleased with her Beautiful Lover,  
she stroked his fair Plumes and feasted her Eye,  
And he too in loving knew well how to move her,  
by Billing begins the business of Joy.   

3.  
Since Divine Powers examples have given,  
If we do not follow their precepts we sin,  
Sure 'twill appear an affront to their Heaven,  
If when the Gates open we enter not in;  
Beauty my dearest was from the beginning,  
ordained to cool Man's amorous rage,  
And she that against that decree will be sinning  
in Spring, she will find the Winter of Age.   

4.  
Think on the pleasure while Love's in its glory,  
let not your scorn Loves great Altar disgrace,  
The time may come when no Swain will adore ye  
or smooth the least wrinkle age lays on your face;  
Then hast to enjoyment whilst love is fresh blooming,  
and in thy height and vigour of day.  
Each minute we lose, our pleasure's consuming,  
and seven years to come, will not one past repay.   

5.  
Think my dear Silvia, the Heavenly blessing,  
of loving in Youth, is the Crown of our days,  
Short are the hours where Love is possessing;  
but tedious the minutes when crossed with delays  
Love's the soft Anvil where Nature's agreeing,  
all mankind are formed, and by it they move,  
'Tis thence my dear Silvia and I have our being,  
the Caesar and Swain spring from Almighty Love.   

6.  
I see my dear Silvia at last has consented,  
that blush in your Cheek does plainly appear,  
And nought but delay shall be ever repent,  
so faithful I'll prove, and so true to my Dear  
Then Hymen prepare, and light all thy Torches,  
perfume thy head Altar, and strew all the way,  
By little degrees Love makes his approaches,  
but Revels at night for the loss of the day.    

Pluto, the Prince of Darkness, his Entertainment of Colonel Algernoon Sidney, upon his Arrival at the Infernal Palace  
Tune, Hail to Myrtle Shade,  Pluto. 
Room for great Algernoon,  
You Furies that stand in his ●ay;  
Let an Officer to me come,  
who served me every day,  
Promoting Sedition and Evil,  
To alter the Church and State,  
He deserves an Employment in Hell,  
He has done great service of late.  Pluto. 
He's one of the Damned old Crew,  
Who Voted the Death of the King;  
At Oxford again he did sue  
To be at the selfsame thing.  
All Mischiefs on Earth he devised,  
All hazards he also did run,  
To render my Name solemnised  
With the Rabble of London Town.  Pluto. 
To Monarchy he was a Foe,  
Religion he always disdained,  
'Gainst Government and Laws too,  
Damned Anarchy he maintained:  
I'll give Thee Preferment here,  
Since England has banished thee thence,  
Brave Sidney thou needest not fear,  
Thou shalt have great recompense.  Shaftsbury. 
Now Monarchy has prevailed,  
Our Fanatic Plots to defeat,  
On whom is the Cause entailed?  
Who'll stand it in spite of Fate?  
We that maintained it so long  
From Justice were forced to fly;  
If you then had come along,  
You needed not there to die.  Essex. 
The Factious are quite undone,  
For loss of the Fanatic Peers:  
Now Shaftsbury and I are gone,  
Poor Oats has lost his Ears?  
For M—h our sham's and Intrigues  
To th'World has plainly declared,  
And H— d our solemn Leagues,  
In the Plot a long time prepared.  Russel. 
I'm glad you are safe arrived,  
Tho' I doubt you met Jack by the way  
Now M—h is reconciled,  
What a plague is become of Grace?  
Rebellion could ne'er disallow  
Conspiring against the Prince,  
Though I by a Sham-dying Vow  
Did plead great Innocence.   

The King's Health, set to Farrinel's Grounds. In six PARTS,  

First Strain.  
JOy to Great Caesar,  
Long Life, Love and Pleasure;  
'Tis a Health that Divine is,  
Fill the Bowl high as mine is;  
Let none fear a Fever,  
But take it off thus Boys;  
Let the King leave for ever,  
'Tis no matter for us Boys.   

Second Strain.  
TRy all the Loyal,  
Defy all,  
Give denial;  
Sure none thinks his Glass too big here,  
Nor any Prig here,  
Or Sneaking Whig here,  
Of Cripple Tony's Crew,  
That now looks blue,  
His Heart Aches too,  
The Tap won't do,  
His Zeal so true,  
And Projects new,  
Ill Fate does now pursue.   

Third Strain.  
LEt Tories Guard the King,  
Let Whigs in Halters swing;  
Let Pilk and Shute be shamed,  
Let Bugg'ring Oats be damned;  
Let Cheating Player be nicked,  
The Turncoat Scribe be kicked;  
Let Rebel City Don's  
Never beget their Sons;  
Let every Whiggish Peer  
That Rapes a Lady fair,  
And leaves his only Dear  
The Sheets to gnaw and tear,  
Be punished out of Hand,  
And forced to pawn his Land  
T'atone the grand Affair.   

Fourth Strain  
GReat Charles, like Jehovah, spares those would un-King him,  
And warms with His Graces the Vipers that sting Him;  
Till Crowned with just Anger the Rebels he seizes:  
Thus Heaven can Thunder when ever it pleases.   

Jig.  
THen to the Duke fill, fill up the Glass,  
The Son of our Martyr, beloved of the King▪  
Envied and Loved,  
Yet Blessed from above,  
Secured by an Angel safe under his Wing.   

Sixth Strain.  
FAction and Folly,  
And State Melancholy,  
With ●ony in Whigland for ever shall dwell;  
Let Wit, Wine, and Beauty,  
Then teach us our Duty,  
For none e'er can Love, or be Wise and Rebel.    

A New SONG on the Instalment of Sir John Moor Lord Mayor of London.  
Tune, St. George for England.  

YOu London Lads rejoice,  
And cast away your Care,  
Since with one Heart and Voice  
Sir John is chosen Mayor;  
The Famous Sir John Moor,  
Lord Mayor of London Town,  
To your eternal Praise,  
Shall stand a Subject of Renown,  
Amongst your Famous Worthies  
Who have been most esteemed;  
For Sir John, Sir John,  
Your Honour hath redeemed.  
Sir John He's for the Kings Right,  
Which Rebels would destroy.  
Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.   

When with a Hidebound Mayor  
The Town was in Distraction,  
Sir John leapt in the Chair,  
And cured the Hall of Faction:  
He to the People showed  
Their Duty and Allegiance;  
How to the Sacred King and Laws  
They pay their due Obedience.  
Sir George unto the People  
A Loyal Speech did give;  
But Sir John, Sir John,  
Your Honour did retrieve.  
Sir John is for Allegiance,  
Which Rebels wou●d destroy.  
Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.   

When thou wast lost, O London,  
In Faction and Sedition;  
By Whigs and Zealots undone,  
While they were in Commission;  
When Treason, like old Nol's Brigade,  
Did gallop through the Town,  
And Loyalty, (a tired Jade,)  
●ad cast her Rider down;  
The Famous Sir George Jeffereys  
Your Charter did maintain;  
But Sir John, Sir John,  
Restored your Fame again.  
Sir John is for the Monarchy,  
Which Rebels would destroy.  
Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.   

When th' Mayor, with Sheriffs mounted,  
Sad Jalousies contrived,  
And all the Town run after,  
As if the Devil drived,  
Then Famous Sir John Moor  
Thy Loyalty restored,  
And Noble Sir George Jefferys,  
Who did thy Acts record:  
Sir George of all the Heroes  
Deserves the foremost place;  
But Sir John, Sir John,  
Hath got the Sword and Mace.  
Sir John he is for Justice,  
Which Rebels would destroy.  
Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.   

Sir Patience would have the Court  
Submit unto the City;  
Whitehall stoop to the Change,  
And is not that a pity?  
Sh. Bethel (save Allegiance)  
Thinks nothing a Transgression:  
Sir Tom rails at the Lawful Prince,  
Sir Bob at the succession:  
While still the brave Sir George  
Does their Fury interpose:  
But Sir John, Sir John  
Maintains the Royal Cause.  
Sir John is for his Highness,  
Whom Rebels would destroy.  
Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.   

Sir Patience for a Parliament,  
should Bethel a Petition  
Instead of an Address,  
crammed brimful of Sedition.  
Sir Tom he he is for Liberty,  
Against Prerogative:  
Sir Bob is for the Subjects Right,  
But will no Justice give:  
And brave Sir George does  
All their Famous Deeds Record;  
But Sir John, Sir John  
Your Loyalty restored.  
Sir John He's for the Interest,  
Which Rebels would destroy,  
Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.   

Sir Patience he calls for Justice,  
And then the Wretch will shame us.  
Sh● Bethel he packs a Jury  
Well versed in Ignoramus:  
Sir Tom would hang the Tory,  
And let the Whig go free:  
Sir Bob would have a● Commonwealth,  
And cry down Monarchy.  
While still the brave Sir George  
Does all their Deeds Record;  
But Sir John, Sir John  
Your Loyalty restored.  
Sir John He is for Justice,  
Which Rebels would destroy.  
Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.   

And may such Loyal Mayors  
As honest Sheriffs find;  
Such Sheriffs find a Jury  
Will to the King be kind;  
And may the King live long,  
To rule such People here;  
And may he such a Lord Mayor find,  
And Sheriffs every year;  
That Traitors may receive  
The Justice of the Laws,  
While Sir John, Sir John  
Maintains the Royal Cause.  
Sir John is for the King still,  
Whom Rebels would destroy.  
Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.    

The Whig-Intelligencer: or, Sir Samuel in the Pound, for publishing Scandalous and Seditious Letters, for which he was Flued 10000 l.  
Tune, Hark! the thundering Cannons roar.  

1.  
HArk! the fatal day is come,  
Fatal as the day of Doom,  
For Sir Samuel there make room,  
So famed for Ignoramus:  
He whose Conscience could allow  
Such large favours you know how,  
If we do him Justice now,  
The Brethren will not blame us.   

2.  
Stand to the Bar, and now advance,  
Morden, Kendrick, Oats and Prance;  
But let the Foreman lead the Dance,  
The rest in course will follow;  
Tilden, Kendrick, next shall come,  
And with him receive their Doom,  
Ten thousand Pound, at which round Sum  
The Hall set up a Halloo.  
Brave Sir Barnard— on now,  
Who no Main would e'er allow  
To lose ten thousand at a throw,  
Was pleased to all men's thinking:  
Ten thousand pounds! a dismal note,  
Who before had giv●n his Vote,  
Not to give King a Groat,  
To save the Throne from sinking   

4.  
But yet there's a Remedy,  
Before the King shall get by me,  
I'll quit my darling Liberty;  
Nor will I give Bail for't:  
For e'er the Crown shall get a Groat  
In opposition to my Vote,  
I●ll give 'em leave to cut my Throat  
Although I lie in Goal for't.   

5.  
Were't for Mon —h, I'd not grieve,  
O● Brave Russel to retrieve,  
Or that Sidney yet might live,  
Twice told, I'd not complain, Sir:  
Nay, what's more, my whole Estate,  
With my Bodkins, Spoons, and Plate,  
So I might reduce the State  
To a Commonwealth again, Sir.   

6.  
Or that Mon. were in Grace,  
Or Sir Sam. in Jeffery's place,  
To spit his Justice in the Face,  
For acting Law and Reason,  
Or that the Torys went to pot,  
Or we could prove it a Shame Plot,  
Or Essex did not cut his Throat;  
Or Plotting were not Treason.   

7.  
Thus I'd freely quit my Coin;  
But with Torys to combine,  
Or keep the Heir in the right Line,  
That Popery be in fashion,  
To see the Holy Cause run down,  
While Mighty York is next the Crown  
And Perkin's forced to fly the Town:  
Oh vile Abomination!   

8.  
Sooner than obedience owe  
To their Arbitrary Law,  
Or my Bail in danger draw,  
For Breach of good Behaviour;  
I with Bethel, and the rest  
O'th' Birds, in Cage will make my Nest,  
And keep my Fine to Plot and Feast,  
Till Mon— be in Favour.    

Oats Thrashed in the Compter, and Sack'd-up in Newgate.  
Tune, Hail to the Myrtle Shades; etc.  

1.  
HAil to the Prince of the Plot,  
All hail to the Knight of the Post;  
Poor Titus! 'tis now thy Lot  
To pay for all the Roast:  
From Wine and six Dishes a day  
Is sure a deplorable Fate,  
To fall to the Basket, and pray  
For an Alms through an Iron-grate.   

2.  
Titus who once was a Prince,  
Now Titus a Captive in Gaol;  
Titus who loved a Wench,  
Or any thing wore a Tail;  
Titus who made a full pass  
At a following Bum in the Room,  
Is clapped up himself by th' Are—,  
And cannot reverse his Doom.   

3.  
Did Titus swear true for the King,  
And is the good Doctor forsworn?  
Did Titus our Freedom bring,  
And Oats in Newgate mourn?  
Was Titus the Light of the Town,  
The Saviour and Guardian proclaimed,  
And now the poor Doctor thrown  
To a Dungeon, in Darkness damned?   

4.  
But now, to declare the cause,  
I'll tell you as brief as I can,  
The Doctor can't in the close  
Prove Titus an honest Man:  
Can Titus be just to the King,  
From Treason and Treachery free,  
When the Doctor hangs in a String,  
For Plotting and Perjury?   

5.  
For Damage the Doctor has done,  
Poor Titus is got in the Pound,  
Till the Doctor produce the Sum,  
Full Thirty thousand pound:  
If you knew on what damnable score  
Such perilous words he brought forth,  
You'd say his false Tongue cost more  
Than ever his Head was worth.   

6.  
The Doctor an Evidence  
Against our Great Duke did come in;  
Nay, such was his Insolence,  
To impeach our Gracious Queen:  
For Which such Indictments are brought,  
Such Actions of Scandal crowd in,  
That Titus could wish, 'tis thought,  
He were out of the Doctor's Skin.   

7.  
Nay, further, while Titus swore  
For the Safety and Life of the King,  
The Doctor began to roar,  
And belched out his poisoned Sting:  
The Doctor for Titus may stretch,  
H'has so brought his business about,  
Without the kind help of Catch  
It's feared he will scarce get out:   

8.  
Through sixteen close Keyholes, 'tis plain,  
Invisible Titus did pass,  
And the Doctor got back again,  
To catch a great Don at Mass:  
But now they are both in the Trap,  
'Tis a Wager but Jack in the Fields,  
(Tho' Titus may chance to 'scape,)  
Has the Doctor fast by the heels.    

A new way to Play an old Game.  
Tune, Would you be a man of fashion,  

1.  
HAve you heard of Forty-One Sir,  
When the Cause did thrive amain;  
Tony's Tap did freely run Sir,  
Tap did freely run Sir,  
And confronted Charles his Wain?  
When the Commons thought it Reason,  
And a meritorious thing,  
To use Villainy and Treason,  
And made Charles a Glorious King.  
Have you heard of Eighty-Three Sir,  
When a deeper Plot was lain,  
When the Rascals did agree Sir,  
Rascals did agree Sir?  
To play o'er the same again?  
When to act their Reformation,  
Nought their Fury would suffice;  
But they needs must Purge the Nation,  
By a Royal Sacrifice.   

3.  
Have you seen those Motly-marties,  
That did suffer for the Cause,  
Swinging in their Tyburn Garters,  
In their Tyburn-Garters,  
To Atone their Sacred Laws?  
If the Blunderbuss▪ should miss Sir,  
And should fail to kill the King,  
There are other means should hit Sir,  
And perform the Glorious Thing.   

4.  
To his Name a Statue's due Sir.  
Higher than the Monument,  
Who this mighty Deed shall do Sir,  
Mighty Deed shall do Sir,  
So Great, so Good, so Excellent:  
Future Ages shall him Crown Sir,  
And shall bless the happy hour,  
And Religion shall fall down Sir,  
And adore her Saviour.   

5.  
Thus the Boasting Bigots Canted,  
(Big with hopes of Common-weal)  
Thus the Priestly Villain Ranted,  
Priestly Villain Ranted,  
In a Drunken sit of Zeal:  
But their Plots were all in vain Sir,  
And their Haughty rash Career,  
Signs and Wonders make it plain Sir,  
Kings are Heavens peculiar Care.    

The Loyal Irish-mam.  
Tune, Irish Trot, or Fingaul Jig.  

1.  
MY bony dear Shony,  
My Crony, my Honey  
Why dost thou grumble  
And keep in thy words so;  
Sighing, and Crying,  
And Groaning, and Frowning,  
Ah why dost thou still  
Lay thy hand on thy Sword so?  
What if the Traitors  
Will talk of State-matters,  
And rail at the King,  
Without Cause or Reason:  
We'll Love on, and let Business alone,  
For Billing and Kissing  
Will ne'er be found Treason,   

2.  
Plotting, and Sotting,  
And Railing, and Fooling;  
Gods Nouns, with the Rabble  
Is now all the Fashion:  
Swearing and Tearing,  
Caballing and Brawling;  
By Chriest and St. Patrick  
Will ruin the Nation:  
He's but a Widgeon  
That talks of Religion  
Since Rebels are now  
The Reformers and Teachers,  
Sodom's Disciple Debauches the People,  
Good Heaven defend us  
From more of such Preachers.   

3.  
Visions, Seditions,  
And Railing Petitions,  
The Rabble receive,  
And are wondrous merry:  
All can remember  
The Fifth of November,  
But no man the Thirtieth of January:  
Talking of Treason  
Without any Reason,  
Will lose the poor City  
It's Bountiful Charter:  
The Commons haranging.  
Will bring them to Hanging,  
Though each Puppy hopes  
To be Knight of the Garter.   

4.  
C— on and P— on  
Papillion that Villain,  
With Cornish and Ward  
Are the Monarchy Hunters;  
Rascals too low are,  
To lodge in the Tower,  
And scarcely are fitting  
To fill up the Compter;  
Bethel is ●led too,  
And Toney is dead too,  
Our Fate to befriend us,  
Made bold to strike sirs:  
Routed the Bigot,  
And pulled out the Spigot,  
His Fame and his Body  
Now stink alike Sir.    

A Litany from Geneva, In answer to that from St Omers.  

FRom the Tap in the Guts of the Honourable Stump,  
From which runs Rebellion, that stinks like the Rump,  
On purpose to leven the Factious Lump,  
Libera nos Domine.  
From him that aspires as high as the Crown,  
And vows to pull Copes and Cathedrals down,  
Fit only to govern the World in the Moon.  
Libera nos.  
From the Prick-eared Levite, that can without pain  
Swear Black into White, then Vnswear it again;  
Whose Name did design him a Villain in Grain,  
Libera nos.  
From his Black-Bills, and Pilgrims with Sticks in their hands  
That came to make a Religious Band,  
Then Ravish our Wives, and Inhabit our Land,  
Libera nos.  
From the Mouth of the City that never gives o●r  
To complain of Oppressions unheard-of before,  
And yet for his Lechery will not quit score,  
Libera nos.  
From the Cent per Cent Scrivener, & all his State-tricks  
That crier out of intemperance, who yet will not stick  
To clear a young Spend-thrift's Estate at a lick,  
Libera nos.  
From the Force and the Fire of the Insolent Rabble,  
That would hurl the Government into a Babel,  
And from the nice Fare of the Mouse-starver's Table  
Libera nos.  
From the Elder in New street, that Goggles & Cants  
Then turns up his Whites, to nose it, and pants,  
And at the same time plays the Devil and Saint,  
Libera nos.  
From Jenkin's Homilies drawn through the Nose,  
From Langley, Dick, Baldwin, and all such as those,  
And from Brawney Settle's Poem in Prose,  
Libera nos.  
From a Surfeit occasioned by Protestant Feasts,  
From Sedition for Sauce, and Republics for Guests,  
With Treason for Grace-Cup, or Faction at least,  
Libera nos.  
From the Conscience of Ci●s resembling their Dames,  
That in private are Nice, but in public so Tame,  
That they will not stick out for a Touch of the same,  
Libera nos.  
From the blind Zeal of all Democratical Tools,  
From Whigland, and all its Anarchical Rules,  
Devised by Knaves, and Imposed on Fools,  
Libera nos.  
From the Late Times Revived, when Religion was gain,  
And Church-Plate was seized for Relics Profane,  
Since practised by Searching Sir William again,  
Libera nos.  
From such Reformation where Zealots begun,  
To preach Heaven must by firm Bulwarks be won  
And Te Deum sung from the mouth of a Gun,  
Libera nos.  
From Parliamentarians, that out of their Love  
And Care for His Majesty's Safety, would prove  
The securest way were His Guards to remove,  
Libera nos.  
From Saucy Petitions, that serve to inflame us,  
From all who for the Association are famous,  
From the Devil, the Doctor, & the damned Ignoramus  
Libera nos.    

The Norwich Loyal Litany.  

DEfend us from all Popish Plots,  
That so the People fray;  
And eke also from Treacherous Scots,  
As bad or worse than they.   

From Parliaments long Rumps and Tails,  
From House of Commons Furies,  
Defend us eke from Protestant flails,  
And Ignoramus Juries.   

Protect us now, and evermore,  
From a white Sheet and Proctor:  
And from that Noble Peer brought o'er  
The Salamanca Doctor.   

A Doctor with a Witness sure,  
Both in his Rise and Fall:  
His Exit almost as obscure  
As his Original.   

Designs and Dangers far Remove,  
From this Distressed Nation,  
And Damn' the Traitorous Model of  
Bold Tony's Association   

And may the Prick-eared Party that  
Have Coin enough in Cupboard,  
Forbear to Shiver an Estate,  
And Splinters mount for Hobart.   

From sixteen selfconceited Peers,  
Protect our Sovereign still;  
And from the Dam'd Petitioners,  
For the Exclusive Bill.   

Guard (Heaven) great Charles, and his Estate  
'Gainst Tony upon Tony;  
And from the House of Commons, that  
Will give the King no Money.   

From those that did design and laugh,  
At Tangier in Distress;  
And were Mahometans worse by half,  
Then all the Moors of Fez   

From such as with Usurping hand,  
Drive Princes to Extremes;  
Confound all their Devices, and  
Deliver Charles, and James.   

But may the beauteous Youth come home,  
And do the thing that's fit,  
Or I must tell that Absalon,  
He has more Hair then Wit.   

May he be wise, and soon expel  
Th' old Fox, th' old Fawning Elf;  
The time draws nigh Achitophel,  
Shan't need to hang himself.   

This Jury I've Empaneled here,  
Of honest lines and true,  
Whom you●l I doubt at Westminster,  
Will find Ignoramus too.    

A new Litany to be Sung in all Conventicles for Instruction of the Whigs  
Tune, call●d Cavalilly Man.  

1.  
FRom Counsels of Six▪ where Treason prevails,  
From raising Rebellion in England and Wales,  
From Rumbolds short Cannons, and Protestant-Flayls▪  
For ever O Fate deliver me.   

2.  
From Shaftsbury's Tenets, and Sydney's Old Hint.  
From seizing the King by the Rabbles Consent,  
From owning the Fact, and denying the Gild,  
For ever, etc.   

3.  
From Aiming at Crowns and indulging the sin,  
From playing Old-Noll's Game over again;  
From a Son and a Rebel, stuffed up in one skin,  
For ever, etc.   

4.  
From Swearing of Lies like a Knight of the Post,  
From Pilgrims of Spain, that should Land on our Coast,  
From a Plot like a Turd, swept about till its Lost,  
For ever, etc.   

5.  
From Oats' clear Evidence when he was Vexed,  
From hearing him squeak out Hugh Peter's old Text▪  
From Marrying one Sister, and Raping the next,  
For ever, etc.   

6.  
From tedious Confinement by Parliament Votes,  
From B— 'tis Whig Sermons with Marginal Notes;  
From saving our Heads, by Cutting our Throats,  
For ever, etc.   

7.  
From Presbyter Bandogs, that By't and not Bark,  
From losing ones Brains by a blow in the Dark▪  
From our Friends in morefield's and those at More-park,  
For ever, etc.   

8  
From Citizen's Consciences and their Wives foul Itch,  
Prom Marrying a Widow that looks like a Witch,  
From following the Court with design to be Rich,  
For ever, etc.   

9  
From Trimmers arraigning a Judge on the Bench,  
From slighting the Guards, that we know will not Flinch,  
And from the Train'dbands Royal-Aid at a Pinch,  
For ever, etc.   

10.  
From all that to Caesar shame duty Express,  
That cringe at his Coach, and smile in his ●ace,  
And two years ago thought it scorn to Address,  
For ever, etc.   

11.  
From having the Gout, and a very Fair Daughter,  
From being obliged to our Friend cross the Water  
From Strangling & Flaying, & what follows after,  
For ever, etc.   

12.  
From Wit that lies hidden in gay Pantaloons,  
From women's ill Nature as frail as the Moons,  
From Francky's lame Jests, and Sir Roger's Lampoons  
For ever O Fate deliver me.     

SONGS never before in Print.  

A new SONG made on the Parliaments removing from London to Oxford.  
Tune, You Yorkshire Lads be merry, etc.  

1.  
YE London Lads be merry,  
Year Parliament Friands are gene;  
That made us an so sorry,  
And would not let us alene:  
But pecht us ev'ry Even,  
Both Papist and Protestant too;  
But to Oxford they are gene,  
And the Deel gang with them I trow.   

2.  
Our good King Charles Heaven bless Him,  
Protecting of Albanies Right;  
Received from the House sike a Lesson,  
'Twas like to have set us at Strife▪  
But Charles he swore by his Life,  
Heed have ne meet sike a dow;  
And he packed them off by this Light,  
And the Deels ganged with them I trow.   

3.  
There's Essex and Jemmy the Cully,  
Were much too blame I dread:  
With Shaftsbury that States●Bully,  
And awe the Factious Breed:  
And wittol G—gud deed,  
Who Pimps when his Wife doth Mow,  
And holds the door for a need,  
But the Deel will reward him I trow   

4.  
Fool Thin and half-witted M— t,  
With Lo— ce, and Slabbering K— t;  
With Gogling Flee-catching B—don  
That ne'er knew yet what he meant;  
And St— rd follows the scent  
With Politic Armstrong and How,  
And they all a Petitioning went,  
And the Deel ●s ganged with them I trow.   

5.  
Then Heaven protect Great Albany,  
Guide him from Pistol and Gun,  
And all the Plots of Anthony,  
That Malicious Baboon:  
Tho● shamed on the Pope of Rome▪  
As Dugdale and Oats do avow;  
But in time they'll hang the Fause Loons,  
And the Deel hang with them I trow.    

A new SONG,  
to the Tune, Ye London Lads be Merry, etc.  

1.  
YOu Loyal Lads be merry,  
For Perkin that State Buffoon,  
Despised by Whig and by Tory,  
For being so Fause a Loon:  
To shame the Court and the Town,  
And muckle did swear and vow:  
But like Prance he has changed his tone  
And the D●el gang with him I trow:   

2.  
His Party had taught him his Lesson,  
And low he did sue for Grace;  
He whined out a doleful Confession,  
How great a Traitor he was;  
And begged his Pardon might pass,  
For he was a Penitent now;  
But he bid the Court Kiss his Arse,  
And the Deels ganged with him I trow   

3.  
And once more he's got above Hatches,  
And means to set up for a King;  
The Politics of his Scotch Duchess,  
This matter about did bring:  
Odds wunds she longs to be Queen,  
If Perkin and she knew how;  
And yet in a Hempen-string,  
They may gang to the Deel I trow.   

4.  
And this last mark of his Treason,  
Is muckle exceeding the rest,  
To awe Lads of Sense and of Reason;  
T'has gained him many a Curse:  
He might have been then at the worst  
Drawn in for a Cully of show,  
But now 'tis past all distrust,  
That the Deels ganged with him I true.   

5  
Now Heaven bless Charles the Second,  
And grant him of Brutus ●s mind;  
And than his nene Son will be reckoned  
Among the Traitorous kind,  
And equal Justice will find,  
By God and St. Andrew I trow;  
Were he o'my Daddy's nene kind,  
He should gang to the Deel I true.    

The Discoverers Discovered.  
A new Tune,  

1.  
DOwn Discoverers, who so long have Plotted  
With Holy shams to gull the Nation,  
Both Peer and Prelacy they useless Voted,  
By the Old Babes of Reformation:  
Property's all their cry, Rights and Freedom,  
Laws and Religion they pull down;  
With old Intestine Lance to bleed them,  
From Lawn-sleeved Prelate to Purple Throne.   

2  
Confound the Hypocrites, Brumighams' Royal,  
Who think Allegiance a Trangression;  
Since to oppose the King is counted Loyal,  
And to rail high at the Succession:  
Monarchy's Tyranny, Justice is Cruel,  
Loyalists, Tories, and Rory Knaves;  
And Dagons Liberty's a Jewel,  
That we again may be Brewer's Slaves.   

3.  
Drink, drink my Boys since Plotting is in Season,  
And none Loyal called but busy Brats of Faction  
Rome, Rome no more thy Holy Treason,  
We have those at home of more divine extraction▪  
We have Peers and Parsons, Smiths and Cooper's too,  
Carpenters and Joiner's of the Reformation;  
All your Brood of Cloister'd Jesuits outdo  
To reduce to Duty a divided Nation.   

4.  
Let Whigs and Zealots dabble deep in Treason,  
And suck from the Spigot Heavenly Revelation▪  
We in the Glass will find more solid Reason,  
And our hearts inflamed with nobler Inquisition,  
Let them boast of honest Brumighams' and true,  
And with those Compose the Kirk of Separation:  
We have honest Tories▪ Tom▪ Dick and Hugh,  
We'll Drink on and do more Service for the Nation.    

Fanatic Zeal, or a Looking-glass for the whigs.  
Tune, A Swearing we will go, etc.  

1.  
WHo would not be a Tory,  
When the Loyal are called so,  
And a Whig is known,  
To be the Nations mortal Foe;  
So a Tory I will be, will be, will be,  
And a Tory I will be.   

2.  
With little Band, Precise  
Hair Presbyterian Cutt;  
Whigg turns up Hands and Eyes  
Tho' Smoking hot from Slut,  
So a Tory I will be, etc.   

3.  
Black Cap turned up with White,  
With Woolfish-Neck and Face;  
And Mouth with None-sense stuffed,  
Speaks Whigg a man of Grace;  
And a Tory I will be, etc.   

4.  
The Sisters go to Meetings  
To meet their Gallants there;  
And oft mistake for my Lord,  
And s●ivle out my Dear;  
And a Tory I will be, etc.   

5.  
Example we do own,  
Then Precept better is;  
For Creswel she was safe,  
When she lived a Private Miss.  
And a Tory I will be, etc.   

6.  
The Whigs tho' ne'er so Proud,  
Sometimes have been as low;  
For there are some of Note,  
Have hung a Rareeshow.  
And a Tory I will be, etc.   

7.  
These Mushrooms to have got for  
Their Champion turn coat Hick,  
But if the Naked Truth were known,  
They're assisted by Old N●ck  
And a Tory I will be, etc.   

8.  
To be, and to be not  
At once, is in their Power;  
For when they're in they're Guilty,  
But clear when out o'th' Tower;   

9  
To carry on their Designs,  
though't contradicts their Sense;  
They'll clear a Whiggish Traitor,  
Against plain Evidence,  
And a Tory I will be, ●c.   

10.  
The old Proverb does tell us,  
Each Dog will have his day;  
And Pill has had his too,  
For which he'll sound pay;  
So a Tory I will be, etc.   

11.  
For Bodkins and for Thimbles,  
Now let your Tubsters Cant;  
For your confounded tired Cause,  
●ad never yet more want;  
So a Tory I will be, &c   

12.  
For Ignoramus Toney,  
Has left you in the Lurch;  
And you have spent your Money,  
So faite e'en●come to Church;  
So a Tory I will be, etc.   

13:  
They are of no Religion,  
Be it spoken to their Glories,  
For St Peter and St. Paul,  
With them both are Tories;  
And a Tory I will be, etc.   

14  
They're excellent Contrivers,  
I wonder what they're not;  
For something they can make  
Of nothing, and a Plot;   

15.  
But now your Holy Cheat  
Is known throughout the Nation;  
And a Whig is known to be  
A thing quite out of Fashion;  
And a Tory I will be, will be, will be,  
And a Tory I will be.    

A new SONG on the Old Plot.  
Tune, Tangier March.  

1.  
LEt the Whigs Repine and all Combine,  
In a damned Association:  
Let Tony Fret, and Perkin Sweat,  
That their Plot's grown out of Fashion,  
Since our Royal Jemmeys come again  
To spoil their Usurpation;  
Rising like the splendid Sun,  
To cheer the drooping Nation.   

2.  
You dull shame Prince, whose Impudence  
To a Throne would be aspiring,  
See the Rabble Crowd that made you proud,  
Have ceased their loud admiring:  
Curse in time those Rogues of State,  
That taught you Rebel Notions;  
And at the true Successors Feet  
Pay all your Just Devotions.   

3.  
Let Bully Tom receive his Doom,  
So long since due in Reason;  
For Murders then, and now again  
For Mutiny and Treason:  
To Kidnap Cully, still has been  
His business of Importance;  
And now poor Perkin has drawn in,  
And Rooked out of his Fortunes.   

4  
In old Laws we find, the Cockold's kind  
To those that do Cornute him;  
Or why should Grace the Traitor play,  
And to Perkin be supporting?  
But the Coxcomb fain would be  
A Wittol to a King too;  
That his Bastards may again,  
Rebel for some such thing too.   

5.  
But of all Fools, a Pox on Tools,  
That against all Law and Reason;  
The Cause maintain, without the Gain  
Or the Profit of the Treason:  
What from Wit, or Courage, Hopes,  
That Gaping Cully Brandon;  
That does to Mongrel Perkin stoop,  
And the Royal side Abandon.   

6.  
Fat Turnspit Frank with Wit so rank,  
Has some excuse for starting;  
Whom we despise, in time may rise,  
To be Jester to King Perkin:  
But for Essex, S— d, Grace and K— t,  
Those Fools of Land and Money;  
Why what the Deel was their intent  
To set up Rebel Tony.   

7.  
The Polish Prince has some pretence,  
To be Whigland Rabbles Hector;  
And with Reas●n too may head the Crew,  
And in time become Protector:  
Since Ambition and Revenge  
Are motives very moving;  
But a Plague on Fools that him do bring,  
To Rogues must Rule above him.   

8.  
Oh! ye Tapland Crew that Treason brew,  
And of Tony make an Idol;  
And Perkin shame with King in Name,  
The King of the Golden Medal.  
Curse and Damn the Black-Cabal,  
That Inspired your Rebel knowledge;  
e'er Billa vera find you all  
The Fate of Pious College.    

The Whigs Downfall.  
Tune, hay Boys up go we.  

NOw, now the Antichristian Crew  
Shall all go down, because  
Our Magistrates do well pursue,  
And Execute the Laws:  
Those Rascals who do always rail  
Against all Law with Spite;  
Would make a Law against the Law,  
Great York should lose his Right.   

To perfect which, they made their choice  
Of Parliaments of late,  
Of Members that had nought but Voice,  
And Migraines in their Pate:  
Wi. Williams he the Speaker was,  
And is't not wondrous strange;  
The Reason's plain, he told it was,  
Because they would not change.   

He told you Truth, nor think it strange;  
He knew well their intent,  
They never meant themselves to change,  
But change the Government:  
For now cry they the King's so poor,  
He dares not with us part;  
And therefore we most Loyally  
Will break his Royal Heart.   

The Habeas Corpus Act is past,  
And so far we are safe;  
He can't Imprison us so fast,  
But straight we have Relief:  
He can't deny us aught we ask,  
In so much need he stands;  
And before that we do Money give,  
We'll tie up both his Hands.   

The Precedents of Forty One,  
Which were till Forty Eight;  
Now our Precedents are grown,  
For why they had their weight:  
So weighty were they, they cut off  
Our Royal Monarch's Head;  
The self same Reason bids us now,  
To act the self same deed.   

And when we have a Martyr made  
Of another Gracious King,  
Then all the faiterous Plots we've laid,  
We to perfection bring:  
And to protect our Wicked Deeds,  
Religion shall go down;  
We●ll rout out all the Royal Seed,  
Pretenders to the ●ro●n.   

Thus having Monarchy destroyed,  
We'll govern by freewill;  
The Light of the Spirit shall be our guide,  
Then what man can do ill:  
Religion is the surest cloak  
To hide our Treachery;  
The Rabble we'll confine to th' yoke  
Pretending to set Free.   

Therefore my Country men, trust not  
Where Religion's the pretence;  
For if you do, you'll find a Plot  
To destroy your Innocence:  
For those who lead you to Rebel,  
You'll find i'th' close to be,  
Pure Instruments were sent from Hell  
To foment Treachery.    

The Downfall of the Good Old Cause.  
Tune, hay Boys up go We.  

NOw the bad Old Cause is Tapped,  
And the Vessel standeth stooped;  
The Cooper may starve for want of work,  
For the Cask shall never be hooped:  
We will burn the Association,  
The Covenant, and Vow;  
The public Cheat of the Nation,  
Anthony, now, now, now.   

No Fanatic shall bear the sway,  
In Court, City, or Town;  
Three good Kingdoms to Betray,  
And cry the Right Line down:  
Let them cry, They love the King;  
Yet if they hate his Brother,  
Remember Charles they Murdered,  
And so they would the other.   

Weavers and such like Fellows  
In Pulpit daily Pret;  
Like the Covenanters,  
Against the Church and State:  
Yet they cry, They love the King;  
But their Business will discover,  
Charles' the first they Murdered,  
And so they would the tother.   

Where these Fellows go to Drink,  
In City or in Town;  
They vilify the Bishops,  
And they cry the Stewarts down;  
Still they cry, They love the King,  
But their Business I'll discover;  
Charles the first they Murdered,  
And so they would the tother.   

When the King wanted Money,  
Poor Yangier to Relieve;  
They cried down his Revenue,  
Not a Penny they would give:  
Still they cried, They love the King▪  
But their Business I'll discover;  
Charles the first they Murdered,  
And so they would the tother.   

The Noble Marquis of Worcester,  
And many such Brave Lord;  
By the King-killing Crew,  
They daily are Abhorred:  
And called Evil Councillors,  
When the Truth they did discover;  
And Charles the first they Murdered,  
And so they would the tother.   

The Papists they would kill the King▪  
But the fanatics did;  
Their Perjuries and Treacheries  
Are not to be paralleled:  
Let them cry, They love the King,  
Their Faults I will discover;  
Charles the first they Murdered,  
And so they would the tother.   

Charles the 2 d. stands on his Guard,  
Like a good Politic King;  
The fanatics ought to be abhorred,  
For all their Flattering:  
Let them cry, They love the King,  
Their Tricks I will discover;  
Charles the first they Murdered,  
And so they will the tother.   

Now let all good Subjects be  
That bear a Loyal heart;  
Stand fast for the King,  
And each man Act his part:  
And to support his Sovereign,  
Religion and the Laws,  
That formerly were established,  
And down with the Cursed Cause.    

Jack Ke●ch's new SONG; or, a Warning to Conspirators.  
Tune,  

1.  
I Hang, and Behead,  
Until you be Dead,  
O Dire!  
Raw Head, Bloody Bones,  
Fling Members and Stones  
In the Fire.   

2.  
Is't not better be merry  
With Claret and Sherry;  
'Tis Reason,  
Then to have your Soul  
Let out at your Poll,  
For Treason▪   

3.  
Your Brains for to puzzle,  
Like Walcot and Russel  
Conspiring;  
'Tis better be Swilling,  
Then Plundering, and Killing,  
And Firing   

4.  
'Tis better to save  
One's Neck, and be brave,  
Or be Sotting;  
Then have a Chop with a Hatchet,  
Or a Halter to stretch it  
For Plotting.   

5.  
The Drunk, and the Brave,  
Nor Traitor, nor Knave,  
Can be ever  
Their Deaths he defies,  
But at Tilting, he dies  
Or a Favour.   

6.  
To be Traitor proclaimed,  
Described, and be Named,  
And Money—  
This 'tis, to be Cullies,  
To the Vilest of Bullies  
Old Tony.   

7  
To be frighted each Hour,  
With Newgate, or Tower,  
And Trying.  
Conviction, and Sentence,  
At Tyburn Repentance  
And Dying.   

8  
Then leave Plotting, and Treason,  
To the void of all Reason  
And Sense;  
Your Pardon, Jack cries,  
'Tis the Whigs I advise,  
No Offence.    

A SONG of the Light of the Nation turned into Darkness.  
Tune, called Cavalilly-man.  

COme all you Caballers and Parliament Votes,  
That stickled for hanging & cutting of throats  
Lament the misfortune of perjured Oats.  
Who first must be Pillor'd, and after be Hanged.   

What Devil suspected this, 5 years agone,  
When I was in hopes to hang up half the Town,  
I Swore against Miler, and Cursed the Crown,  
But now must be Pillor'd, and after be Hanged.   

I cursed the Bishops and hanged up the Priests,  
I swore myself Doctor, yet never could Preach,  
But a Cant full of Blaspemy's all I could reach,  
I first must be Pillor'd, and after be Hanged.   

Now Oats is i'th' Cupboard & Manger with Colt,  
The Cauldron may boil me for fear I should moult,  
Here I've ne'er a Bum for a Wheel-barrow jolt,  
Yet now must be Pillor'd, and after be Hanged.   

My thousand Commissions and Spanish Black-Blls,  
Invisible Armies lodged upon Hills,  
Such old perjured Nonsense my Narrative fills,  
That I now must be Pillor●d, and after be Hanged.   

My twelve Pounds a Week, I want to support▪  
For stinking i'th' City and fouling the Court,  
Like the Devil in Dungeon, I'm now hampered for't.  
A first must be Pillor●d, and after be Hanged.   

They Hang us in order the Devil knows how,  
'Zounds all that e●e put ●ne paw to the Blow,  
I ne'er feared the Devil would fail me till now,  
That I first must be Pillor'd, and after be Hanged.   

For calling the Duke a Papist and Traitor,  
I often have called the King little better,  
I'm fast by the heels like a Beast in a Fetter,  
I first must be Pillor'd, and after be Hanged.   

I swore that the Queen would Poison the King▪  
That Wakeman had Moneys the Poison to bring▪  
When I knew in my heart there was no such thing.  
I now must be Pillor'd, and after be Hanged.   

I'm Resolved to be Hanged dead drunk like Hugh Peter,  
If I can but have my Skin stuffed with good Liquor,  
Then I shall limp to old Tapskie much quicker.  
But I first must be Pillor●d, and after be hanged.    

A new SGNG.  
To the Tune of Young Jemmy.  

1.  
'TWas a foolish fancy Jemmy,  
To put your Trust in Tony;  
He dipped ye all in Treason,  
Then humbly Died in Season;  
When his Spigot dropped out,  
The Plot came about▪  
Farneze beyond your Grace's Reason.   

2.  
'Twere fit you'd mind these matters,  
And help your Brother Traitors;  
You left your Friends together,  
To shift for one another;  
Who you well all know,  
Were in Portingal-Row  
With a Lady and her Mother.   

3.  
When you went from Jerman-street Sir,  
Your Friends you went to meet Sir;  
Poor Betty was much grieved Sir,  
You could not be believed Sir;  
Had she been in the way,  
You had carried the day;  
But alas you were deceiveed Sir.   

4.  
Frank N— t'tis wondrous hearty.  
And Argues for the Party;  
His parts are most inviting,  
And lately shined in Writing;  
And he hath in his Face,  
As much Wir as you've Grace;  
Which to say the Truth is Biting.   

5.  
Thus Sir while you're attended,  
Your troubles will be ended;  
Keep Frank still for your Writer,  
And P P —y for your Fighter  
And to add to your sway,  
Turn ●— r away,  
●d make poor Ha— t fright her.   

6.  
〈◊〉 For— s have a place too,  
●bout your mighty Grace too;  
●h— tun hath great reason  
〈◊〉 look out sharp in Season,  
〈◊〉 Gibbons his place  
〈◊〉 a Nobler Race;  
〈◊〉 ●ake Sir R— d M-n.   

7.  
〈◊〉 he hath more wit than any  
●o turn and wind the Penny;  
H●l lie beyond all measure,  
〈◊〉 Pimping is his Pleasure;  
A● he's for his part,  
●ore a Rogue in his Heart,  
T● Grace or Armstrong either.   

8.  
May Friends like these protect ye,  
And only these respect ye;  
May Halters, Chains and Fetters,  
Crown all Rebellious Traitors;  
Then in a short space  
I'll wait on your Grace,  
With a List of all your Creatures.    

Oates' Bug— Bug— Boarding-School, at Camberwell.  
Tune, Lord Russel's Farewell.  

Rouse, Rouse my lazy Myrmidons,  
And muster up our Tribe;  
See how the Factious Fancies stand,  
To trim or cross the Tide:  
Invite 'em to my Vaulting School,  
The Saints for freedom tell;  
How they may live without Control,  
With me at Camberwell.   

There all Provision shall be made  
To entertain the best,  
Old Mother Creswel of our Trade,  
For to rub down our Guests;  
Three hundred of the briskest Dames,  
In Park or Field e'er fell:  
Whose Am●rous Eyes shall charm the flames  
O'th' Saints at Camberwell.   

For my own spending I will keep  
Of Boys three hundred more,  
They are to my Appetite, more sweet  
Than Bawd or Buxom Whore:  
The Turks Seraglio we'll revive,  
He sinks so fast for Hell:  
Our English Turks may Plot and thrive,  
With me at Camberwell.   

That Sacred place shall tempt his Grace,  
Once more from Friends to fall:  
He'll leave these new-fond Sweets to trace  
Both Moor-Park and Whitehall;  
For Grace and Tom ●t shall be their home,  
To Kiss Secure and Dwell;  
Where ev'ry Lass shall hug his Grace,  
●n my sweet Camberwell.   

●ence shall from the Cock-loft creep,  
●nd here have free-Access:  
〈◊〉 ●ear and Drink to Whore and Sleep,  
●h Virtues we profess;  
〈◊〉 his Pots of Venison,  
〈◊〉 ●ook for Priests, may sell:  
●ber-Necklaces make known  
〈◊〉 Saints at Camberwell.   

〈◊〉 may meet his Mistress here,  
●times Sir Robert's Wife;  
●ree from care in joys may share,  
●ay prolong one's Life:  
●daring Gibbet 'fore my Gate,  
〈◊〉 tear him down to Rights;  
〈◊〉 ●se no Emblems of ill Fate,  
●ll fright our Amorous Nights.   

Ar● and Job, and Ferguson,  
●d all Absconding Saints;  
Ma●●afely to their Saviour come,  
●d taste our sweet Content:  
Ou●●rgest Rooms to frisk and sport,  
●s round, and Curtains drawn;  
The Life and Scene of Venus' Court,  
Excelling England's Throne.   

All naked round the Room we'll Dance,  
Fine Limbs and Shapes to show:  
In pairs by Candle-light advance,  
In dazzling postures go:  
Here every Man obtains his Choice,  
Sister, Madam, or Nell:  
We'll have Papillion and Duboys,  
To my sweet Camberwell.    

The Royal Admiral, an excellent new SONG on His Illustrious Highness the Duke of York His ●ing confirmed High-Admiral of England.  

1.  
FAction and Folly (alas!) will deceiv● you,  
The Loyal man still the best Subject d● ●ve;  
Treason of Reason (poor Whig) will berea● 〈◊〉;  
You cannot be blessed, till this Curse yo● 〈◊〉.  
Charles our great Monarch, when Heaven di●●tore  
With His Royal Brother, safe on our S● Him.  
Ordained us, that we next our King shou●●re  
Then Johnson play the Apostate no mo● ●im,   

2.  
Clayton may fret, and bring Vows of Obedience  
To Ferguson, Baxter, to Curtis and Care;  
Patience approach with pretended Allegiance  
To his sovereign Lord, yet oppose the right Heir  
Can he pretend to be Honest or Loyal,  
Nay though he late at Westminster swore,  
And yet the next day will (like Perkin) deny all,  
Whatever he said, or swore to before?   

3.  
Let Trenchard and Hambden stir up a Commotion,  
Their Plotting and Voting will prosper no more;  
Now Gallant Jemmy commands on the Ocean,  
And mighty Charles keeps them in awe on the Shoar.  
Let Lob and Ferguson preach up Sedition  
At Coffee house, Conventicle, Cabal,  
Now Jefferys is Justice, and York in Commission,  
Their Scandal and Plots shall pay for 'em all.   

4.  
Jemmy the Valiant, the Champion Royal,  
His own and the Monarch's Rivals withstood;  
The bane and the terror of all the Disloyal,  
Who spilt the late Martyr's, and sought for His Blood  
Jemmy who quelled the proud Foe on the Ocean,  
And reigned the sole Conqueror over the Main  
To this brave Hero let's all pay Devotion,  
Since He is England's Admiral again.   

5.  
York our great Adm'ral, the Ocean's Defender,  
The Joy of his Friends, & the Dread of His Foes,  
The lawful Successor, what Bastard-Pretender  
(Whom Heaven the true Heir has ordained) dare ●ppose?  
〈◊〉 who taught the Scotch Rebels Allegiance,  
And made the High Dutch his Standard to lower,  
In time will reduce the proud Cit to Obedience,  
And make the false Whig fall down and adore.   

6.  
Let Bethel and Hambden lie shopt for their Treason,  
And for the new Factions express their old Zeal;  
Let false Sir Samuel rail on without reason,  
And every night dream of a new Commonweal;  
Plotters be brought with their Plots to confusion,  
While Charles sways the Shoar, and York the vast Main.  
Till all are confounded who sought the Exclusion,  
Then England will be old England again.   

7.  
Then to our Monarch let's quaff off a Bumper,  
And next to our sovereign, the Prince of the Flood;  
The Axe and the Gibbet crown every Rumper,  
Who York in the lawful Succession withstood.  
May Rumbold, Grace, Armstrong, with Sidney be Sainted  
And Titus●s long Tongue, so often forsworn.  
May his short Neck stretch for't when Oats is attainted.  
And wish with the World he had never been born.    

Loyalty respected, and Faction confounded.  
To a Pleasant New Tune.  

1.  
LEt Cannons roar from Sea to Shoar,  
●nd Trumpets sound Triumphantly;  
We'll fair in Wealth while we drink a Health  
To the High Born Prince of Albany.  
Of Albany, of Albany,  
To the High Born Prince of Albany:  
We'll fair in Wealth, while we drink a Health  
To the High Born Prince of Albany.   

2.  
He's the Son of Scotland's womb,  
Though his Nativity be Thames;  
He's of the Glorious Martyr Sprung,  
And bears the Name of good King James.  
Of Albany, etc.   

3.  
Our Princes and our Nobles all  
Do not our Loyalty Disgrace:  
Nor no enormity at all  
Nor Bastardise the Royal Race,  
Of Albany, etc.   

4.  
Let Hagar and her Birth be gone,  
Her Bottle on her Shoulder be;  
For Sarah said unto her Son,  
He shall not be an Heir with thee.  
An Heir with thee, an Heir with thee,  
He shall no be an Heir with thee;  
For Sarah said unto her Son,  
He shall be an Heir with thee.   

5.  
Put all these Fancies quite away,  
And press down that Egyptian pride;  
Before he wants a Seignory,  
We'll place him King on Yarrow side,  
On Yarrow side, on Yarrow side,  
We'll place him King on Yarrow side,  
Before he wants a Seignory,  
We'll place him King on Yarrow side   

6.  
I know not why he should be King,  
Unless for Mustering of the whigs:  
No wonder, though they act the thing,  
He spared them well at Bothwell-Brigs.  
On Yarrow side, etc.   

6.  
So Nobly he did act his part,  
By sparing these Rebellious Clowns;  
That he came down and let a Fart,  
And so marched back with his Dragoons,  
With his Dragoons, with his Dragoons,  
And so marched back with his Dragoons,  
That he came down and let a Fart,  
And so marched back with his Dragoons.    

The whigs Disappointment upon their intended Feast.  
Tune, Cook Laurel.  

1.  
HAve you heard of a Festival Convent of late,  
Composed of a pack of Notorious Dissenters,  
Appointed by Tickets in Whigland to meet,  
To Sign and to Seal Covenanted Indentures.   

2.  
The day was appoited, and all things prepared  
In order thereto, by the Sages o'th' Nation,  
And a Reverend Sermon was there to be heard,  
T'exhort 'em to th' Oath of Association.   

3.  
All sorts of Tradesmen were bid to be there,  
The Lords, Abhorrers, and Commoners too,  
But the Cooper 'fore all was to take the Chair,  
To set forth the matter as well he knew how.   

4  
The Godly Gown-man all Chained and Fur'd,  
Two Shrieves, & the Deel knows what of the Rabble;  
Invited on purpose, and set on, and Spurred,  
To make a Confusion worse than old Babel.   

5.  
The chief of the Feast was a Fop and a Mouth,  
Buyed up by the City Cooper and Player;  
Whose Name they'd extended from North to South  
By th' trick of a Black-Box to make him an Heir.   

6.  
For down into Durham an Envoy was sent,  
Amongst the Chief, the Northern Clergies,  
To find out a Writing to that very intent:  
Who had thirty good Guineas to bear his Charges.   

7.  
The Reverend Titus was Chaplain to th' Feast,  
Brimful of Plots with Oaths to maintain them;  
The Deel could afford them no such Guest,  
'Mongst all his damned Crew to entertain them.   

8.  
Next in came Janway, Curtis, Vile and Care,  
With his Packets of Lies thrust under his A●m,  
Then Don Danger●eldo more subtle by far,  
Then poor Mother Cellier, that acted no harm,   

9  
All sorts of Informers were bid to be there,  
And the damned Ignoramus ●urors too,  
To participate of this Festival Cheer,  
By way of Thanksgiving for what they did do.   

10.  
Some hundreds more were to be at the Feast;  
And all things thereunto were fitted,  
But in steps an Order which forestalled the Guests,  
Disbanding the Cooks ere the meat was half spitted   

11.  
Tag, Rag, and Long-tail were all to come in,  
To sit at this King of Poland's Table,  
The Feast I conceive else was not worth a Pin,  
Without the consent of an Insolent Rabble.   

12.  
What Pining and Fretting, and Fuming was there,  
When all the good Creatures were laid aside,  
'T would make a Saint both to stamp and stare,  
To see such a Zealous Assembly decry●d.   

13.  
Here now the Nation was thus settled,  
And all things be brought to a better Cue,  
Here a new Government was to be settled,  
And the Deel knows what besides they would do   

14.  
Some think it was like to the Oxford stroke,  
Which was well, being given in Season▪  
And some think they're under a burdensome yoke,  
'Cause they may not Assemble for sedition 〈◊〉 treason   

15.  
Some hold it not prudently Acted at all,  
To check an Assembly of so great an Intention,  
Who studied and aimed at the Tory's down-fall,  
In raising the Whigs by a new Invention.   

16.  
Some say they were nettled, and galled within,  
To see our great York embraced by the City,  
If that be the Cause on't we care not a Pin,  
Let them hang up each other, and so ends my Ditty.    

The West-Country-man's SONG at a Wedding.  

1.  
UDs hearty Wounds, I'll not to Ploughing, not I Sir,  
Because I hear there's such brave doings hard by Sir,  
Thomas the Minstrel, he's gone twinkling before Sir  
And they talk there will be two or three more Sir  
Who the Rat can mind either Byard or Ball Sir,  
Or any thing at all Sir,  
For thinking of Drinking i'th' Hall Sir,  
egad not I, let Master fret it and storm it,  
I am resolved, I'm sure there can be no harm in't  
Who would lose the zight of the Lasses & Pages,  
And pretty little Sue, so true when she ever engages  
E'gad not I, I'd rather lose all my Wages.   

2.  
There's my Lord has got the curiourest Daughter,  
Look but on her, and she'll make the Chaps on the water,  
This is the day the Ladies are all about her,  
Zome to Veed her, zome to Dress her, & clout her,  
Odds bud, she's grown the veatest, the neatest, the sweetest,  
The pretty'st little Rogue, and all men do say the discreetest,  
There's ne'er a Girl that wears a Head in the Nation  
But must give place, since Mrs. Betty's Creation,  
She's so good, so witty, so pretty to please ye;  
So charitably kind, so courteous & loving & easy,  
That I'll be bound to make a Maid of my Mother,  
If London Town can e'er send down such another   

3.  
Next my Lady in all her Gallant Apparel,  
I'll not forget the thundering thumping Barrel,  
There's such drink, the strongest head can't bear it  
'Twill make a Vool of Zack or Whitwine or Claret  
And zuch plenty that 20 or 30 good Vellows,  
May tipple off their Cups until they lie down on their Pillows;  
Then hit off thy Vrock and don't stand scratching thy Head so,  
For thither I'll go, Odds Wunds because I've said so    

The Diet of Cowley.  

NOw by my Love; the greatest Oath that is;  
None loves you half so well as I,  
I do not ask your Love for this,  
Bu● for Heaven's believe me, or I die;  
No servant e'er but did deserve,  
His Master should believe that he does serve;  
And I'll ask no more Wages though I starve.   

2.  
'Tis no Luxuri●u Diet this, and sure,  
I can't by't too lusty prove.  
Yet shall it willingly endure;  
I●● can but keep together Life and Love,  
Being your Prisoner and your Slave;  
I do not Feasts or Banquets love to have,  
A little Bread and Water's all I crave.   

3.  
On a sigh of pity, I a year can live,  
One Tear will keep me 20 at least,  
Fifty, a gentle look will give;  
An 100 one, one kind word I'll Feast:  
A 1000, more added be  
If you an Inclination have for me,  
And all beyond is vast Eternity.    

A Prophetical Catch.  
To the Tune, Of the merry Christ-Church-Bells.  

1.  
OH! the Plot Discoverers,  
Oats, Bedloe, Dugdale, Prance!  
They are such Crafty Dogs,  
That none but Scroggs  
Can feage them Cunningly, cunningly.   

2.  
Oh! the cursed damned shame Plot,  
Which some believe, but more do not,  
Because the Laws  
Have found such Flaws,  
In them of all our Ills, the Cause.   

3.  
Bedlow, they say, t'other day at a Play,  
For his Impudence was banged;  
But the Plot will not  
ere be forgot,  
Till Oats and all are hanged.    

The Courageous loyalists; Or, A Health to the Royal Family  
Tune, Burton-hall.  

1.  
DRown Melanchally  
in a Glass of Wine;  
We will be jolly,  
let the Miser pine:  
Boys drink about,  
we'll make the Tavern roar,  
When the Bumper's out,  
we'll call again for more:  
It makes good Blood  
to run within our Veins,  
It puts good reason also  
in our Brains:  
He that will deny it,  
hanged let him be,  
Here's to all  
the Royal Progeny.   

2.  
Boys we'll be merry,  
whatsoever ensue,  
Drink Sack and Sherry.  
till the Sky looks blue;  
Let the whigs lament,  
and whiningly complain,  
We with one consent,  
drink to the Royal Train;  
Heavens bless Great Charles,  
and the Duke of York,  
All the Lords and Earls,  
and every Royal Spark;  
Down with every Factious,  
shamming, whining Crew,  
Give them Rope and Hanging,  
since it is their due.   

3.  
Drawer bring us Wine,  
fill the other Bowl,  
Let us lose no time,  
for he's an honest Soul  
That doth love his Prince,  
and the ancient Laws,  
He is a man of Sense,  
he shall have our Applause;  
As for mighty Charles,  
his Renowned Name,  
Let it be Recorded  
in the Books of Fame:  
But he that will deny  
Allegiance to the King,  
Hang him▪ let him die,  
and in a Halter swing:   

4.  
Brave Noble Zions,  
be you stout and true,  
Stand in Defiance  
of the Rabble Crew;  
They that designed  
our Laws to undermine,  
We will make them fly,  
like Chaff before the Wind:  
Those that did consent,  
yielding to allow,  
Those that did invent  
the Association Vow,  
To conceal their Treason,  
hang 'em let them swing,  
Here's a Health to Charles,  
the most Renowned King.   

5  
Now sure the Whigs,  
they will no more Rebel,  
Old Cromwel's Pigs  
that sucked up the swill;  
Their hopes are drowned,  
as we plainly see,  
Some were counfounded  
in their Villainy;  
Tommy he is fled,  
Tony he is Dead.  
Some of them were Hanged,  
others lost their Haddit▪  
Catch in conclusion  
paid them their Arrears,  
Since this Confusion  
how they hang their Ears!   

6.  
Then learn to bow,  
and in Obedience stand,  
To Caesar now  
the Glory of the Land,  
None can convince,  
for what I speak is true,  
He is a Prince  
of love and pity too:  
Those that are Loyal,  
they are perfect free,  
There's no denial  
of their Liberty;  
Then true hearts be merry,  
make the Tavern ring,  
Fling up your Caps,  
and cry, God Save the KING.    

A new SONG,  
to an Old Tune, Tom of Bedlam.  

MAke room for an Honest Red-Coat,  
(And that you'll says a wonder:)  
The Gun, and the Blade,  
Are his Tools,— and his Trade,  
Is for Pay, to Kill, and Plunder.  
Then away with the Laws,  
And the Good old Cause,  
Ne'er talk o'th' Rump, or the Charter,  
'Tis the Cash does the Feat,  
All the rest's but a Cheat,  
Without that there's no Faith, nor Quarter.   

'Tis the mark of our Coin, GOD WITH US,  
And the Grace of our Lord goes along with't,  
When the George's are flown,  
Then the Cause goes down,  
For the Lord is departed from it.  
Then away, etc.   

For Rome, or for Geneva,  
For the Table, or the Altar,  
This spawn of a Vote,  
He cares not a Groat—  
For the Pence, he's your Dog in a Halter.  
Then away, etc.   

Tho' the Name of King, or Bishop,  
To Nostrils pure may be Loathsome,  
Yet many there are,  
That agree with the Mayor,  
That their Lands are wondrous toothsome.  
Then away, etc.   

When our Masters are Poor, we leave 'em,  
'Tis the Golden Calf we bow to:  
We Kill, and we slay,  
No● for Conscience, but Pay;  
Give us That, we'll fight for you too.  
Then away, etc.   

'Twas that first turned the King out;  
The Lords next; then the Commons:  
'Twas that kept up Noll,  
Till the Devil fetched his Soul;  
And than it set the Bum on's.  
Then away, etc.   

Drunken Dick was a Lame Protector,  
And Fleetwood a Backslider:  
These we served as the rest,  
But the City's the Beast  
That will never cast her Rider.  
Then away, etc.   

When the Mayor holds the Stirrup,  
And the Shrieve's cry, God save your Honours:  
Then 'tis but a Jump,  
And up goes the Rump,  
That will spur to the Devil upon us.  
Then away, etc.   

And now for a fling at your Thimbles,  
Your Bodkins, Kings, and Whistles,  
In truck for your Toys  
We'll sit you with Boys:  
'Tis the Doctrine of Hugh Peter, 
* To the Butcher's Wife   
Then away, etc.   

When your Plate is gone, and your Jewels,  
You must be next entreated,  
To part with your Bags,  
And strip you to Rags,  
And yet not think y'are cheated.  
Then away etc.   

The truth is, the Town deserves it;  
'Tis a Brainless, Heartless monsieur:  
As a Club they may Bawl,  
Or Declare at their Hall,  
And yet a● push not one stir.  
Then away, etc.   

Sir Arthur vowed h●'ll treat 'em,  
Far worse than the men of Chester:  
He●s Bold; now they're Cowed,  
But he was nothing so Loud  
When he lay in the ditch at Leicester.  
Then away, etc.   

The Lord ha●h left John Lambert,  
And the Spirit, Feak's Anointed,  
But why oh Lord,  
Hast thou sheathed thy Sword?  
Lo, thy Saints are disappointed▪  
Then away, etc.   

Tho' Sir Henry be departed:  
Sir John makes good the place now,  
And to help out the work  
Of the Glorious Kirk,  
Our Brethren march apace too,  
Then away, etc.   

While Divines, and States men wrangle,  
Let the Rump-ridden Nation bite on't,  
There are none but we  
That are sure to go free,  
For the Souldies' still in the right on't.  
Then away, etc.   

If our Masters won't supply us  
With Money, Food and Clothing:  
Let the State look to't,  
We'll find one that will do't,  
Let him Live,— we'll not damn for nothing,  
Then away with the Laws,  
And the Good old Cause,  
Ne'er talk o'the Rump, or the Charter,  
'Tis the Cash does the feat,  
All the rest's but a Cheat,  
Without That there's no Faith nor Quarter.    

Oats well Thrashed, being a Dialogue between a Country Farmer, and his man Jack.  
Tune, Which no body can deny. Repeat the burden twice.  Jack. 
OUr Oats, last week not worth a Groat,  
Have, Sir, (which all do wonder at)  
Abomination thrived of late;  
Which no Body can deny, Sir,  Master. 
Be all the Tribe of Oats Accursed,  
And the Old Dotard too, that first  
The Brat within his Hedges nursed,  
And sowed such Wicked seed, Boy.  Jack. 
Good Master, pray your Fury stop;  
For, as the Saying is, I hope,  
You'll shortly shortly see a Doctor-Crop,  
And many more besides, Sir.  Master. 
A Curse on every thing, that's called Oats;  
Both Old and Young, both Black and White Oats,  
Both Long and Short, both Light and Tite Oats:  
I hate the viprous Seed, Boy.  Jack. 
Your Oats, now Ripe, Sir, do appear;  
For they begin to hang the Ear;  
The Time of Cutting them draws near,  
If my Skill fails me not, Sir.  Master. 
Then down with 'em, and all their Train;  
Let not a Blade of them remain,  
Our poor Land to infect again;  
'Tis pity one should scape, Boy.  Jack. 
Where shall I reek them, (the Sithence ●s Edge  
They've felt) in Barn, or under Hedge?  
For they are fit for Cart, or Sledge,  
And a Roping only want, Sir.  Master. 
Even if thou wilt, lodge them in thy Barn;  
For they shall ne'er come amongst my Corn;  
Or Cart them, if thou wilt, to Tyburn;  
And there too Truss them up, B●y.  Jack. 
Th' are housed, Sir; But the Trash all Sense  
Exceeds, that's in 'em: By what Means,  
This Filthy Oats shall we e'er cleanse?  
From all that Roguish Stuff, Sir?  Master. 
—  Jack. 
Go, get a pack of Sturdy Louts,  
And let them lustily Thresh their Coats;  
Too well you cannot Thresh Damned Oats;  
Which no body can deny, Boy.  Jack 
theyare threshed, and wimbed and made as clean,  
As hands can do't; but all in vain:  
For still Base Oats behind remain:  
What shall we do with 'em, Sir?  Master. 
Let 'em divided be like Martyrs  
Of Royal Justice) into Quarters;  
Then ground in Mill, or brayed in Mortars:  
So Oats ought to be served, Boy.  Jack. 
How shall I use the Straw? 'Tis good  
Only to cast out into the Road,  
And under Foot to Dung be tr●d;  
And there to lie and r●t, Sir,  Master. 

Burnt, like an Heretic, in Flame;  
And Expiate so our Gild and Shame,  
For giving Long-tailed Oats such Fame,  
Abhorred by all but us, Boy.   

Beyond Sea th' are kicked out of Door;  
But held with us Here in such Store,  
That Oats we even do Adore:  
But Cursed be Oats, say I, Boy   Jack. 
What shall we now at last, Sir, do  
With this Same Paltry Oats, by You  
So hated, and admired by few;  
And those both Knaves and Fools, Sir.  Master. 
Let Oats be cast to Ravenous Hogs,  
Or ground for Meat for Hungry Dogs;  
And no where Sown, but in deep Bogs,  
Or Bottom of a Jakes, Boy.  
Or to the Fowls o'th' Air be thrown,  
By Vermin to be preyed upon;  
Or out o'th' World by Whirlwinds blown,  
To th' Devil's Arse of Peak, Boy.  
Let every Tongue, and Tail i'th' Isle  
Of Man, of Bird, of Beast, defile  
Oats so Detestable, Oats so Vile;  
And 'twill be so, thou'lt see, Boy.  
Or if to Popery thou incline,  
Thou shalt have Oats incaged in Shrine,  
And show about that Trash Divine▪  
And this will get thee Pence, Boy.  Jack 
Let it, good Master, pray be so,  
And I'll amongst the Papists go,  
with my O raree shit, and my O brave Show,  
Till I a Pension get, Sir.  
And then I'll Coach it up and down,  
From Country, and from Town to Town,  
Till o'er the World I●ve made Oats known,  
For a very Rogue in Grain, Sir.   

The Tories Triumph; or, the Point well weathered.  
To a New Theatre Tune,  

SOme say, the Papists had a Plot,  
Against the Church and Crown;  
But be it so, or be it not,  
The King must please the Town.  
The Papists take Tyburn by turns,  
To please the City Gulls;  
It's strange, that they who all wear Horns,  
Should fear the Popish Bulls   

2.  
The House of Commons blow the Coals,  
The Nation to dissettle;  
And like two Tinkers, make two Holes  
To mend one in a Kettle:  
Or else▪ What needs that precious Vote,  
That if the King should Fall  
By Pagan, or Fanatic Plot,  
The Pope must pay for all?   

3.  
Our Royal James of Princely Race,  
And High-Illustrious Fame,  
Was not thought fit by Commons base,  
To follow Charles' Wain:  
But let that House of Office know,  
When they have Sowed their Leaven,  
He shall Succeed though they say no,  
By all the Laws of Heaven.   

4.  
Old Cavaliers for Loyalty  
They straight Clapped up for Treason,  
In hopes to bring in Anarchy,  
'Gainst Justice, Sense and Reason.  
Brave Hallifax and Feversham,  
Brave Worster, Just and Wise,  
They did Vote down, as dangerous Men,  
That they themselves might Rise.   

5.  
But Oh! That Lord in Leistershire,  
Turned Catchpole, though too late:  
'Tis better ●riests in Prison were,  
Then Burns should lose their Trade.  
For Priest poor Waller never sought,  
But where Was Golden Crosses;  
His Myrmidons went ●nacks, 'tis That  
In all the Owners Losses.   

6.  
The Doctor he has bid Farewell  
To Jesus, and the Court;  
And Tony's Tap runs fla● and dull,  
Makes Catch in hopes of Sport.  
Blue Protestants can make no work,  
Unless like Hungary,  
They for Religion Join the Turk,  
For Christian Liberty    

Five Years Shame Plots Discovered in one True one.  
To the Tune of,— I told young Jenny, etc.  

NOw Innocent Blood's almost forgot,  
We have found the Original Ground of the  
Now every Moon-blind Rebel may know, Plot  
That Providence sees our Actions below.  
NoW Oats for Pegs, may pack up his Awls,  
And there inform his Master;  
To furnish Rooms, make fire in the Halls  
For Company that comes after.   

These are not like our Plots of Old,  
When Evidence swore for Silver and Gold.  
There are no Armies under Ground,  
No Sha● Magazines that ne'er were found,  
No Spanish Pilgrims, and Black-Bills,  
But open professed Traitors;  
Where Perjury spares, the Sword it kills,  
These are our Saintlike Satyrs.   

These are the Blades, detected by Laws,  
In Contempt of Justice decide it with blows  
These are the Bloodhounds of our Age,  
That brought our late Monarch upon the Stage,  
Yet these more Barbarous Bruits of ours,  
Would mu●ther both King and's Brother,  
And ●ay the Gild at innocent doors,  
And still continue the Murder.   

From thence the Sacrifice begins,  
To Massacre others for their own sins:  
And this has been the Plots support,  
First made in the City, then forced on the Court.  
But now the Mysteries brought to light,  
True Innocency is Protection,  
Surprising Rebels dare not fight,  
Their Souls are Imperfections.   

If they had Butchered the Royal Line,  
To Murder its Friends they were to Join,  
The like was never on Record  
In the wide Wilderness of the World;  
To Rob the Kingdom of all that's Good,  
And none but Rebels Surviving,  
To Lord it o'er three Nations in Blood;  
Each to be an Oliver striving.   

The Saddle is now on the Right ●orse,  
The whigs must mount for Tyburn in Course.  
For these can be no false Alarms,  
We have their Confession the Men and their Arms,  
Makes Catch perceive his Harvest is near  
He swears if his Horse do not fail him,  
He'll not take a thousand Pound this year,  
For what his Trade may avail him.    

On the Throat-cutter of Jack-a-napes-lane.  
Tune, Hang sorrow, cast away care.  

1.  
THere is an old story  
That's much to the glory  
Of one who was called Sophyrus,  
Whose Fears may be read,  
Though the man be dead,  
By any that are desirous.   

2.  
This man had a Nose  
(As you may suppose)  
In the middle of his face;  
But he cut it off clear,  
Like a brave Cavalier,  
To get the King's good grace.   

3.  
The manner is known,  
So we'll let that alone:  
Yet by the way you must note,  
Though he slashed his face  
In every place,  
He had a great care of his Throat.   

4.  
Nor will any man dare  
This Wight to compare  
With an Hero that I can name;  
Who, by cutting his Throat,  
Grew a man of great note,  
And purchased eternal Fame.   

5.  
Sophyrus did well;  
But He doth excel,  
If he be but right understood:  
For 'tis a plain case  
As the Nose on ones Face,  
It was done for the People's good.   

6.  
The design was brave,  
The People to save  
By letting his own Throat bleed;  
But the Fiend that repines  
At all good Designs,  
Did hinder it to succeed.   

7.  
For his hand being up  
To spill the last Drop  
Of the People's saving Blood,  
He made him flinch  
At the other Inch,  
And so prevented the Good.   

8.  
So he useth his Throat  
For the People to Vote;  
Yet some are so wicked, to hope  
This obliging Knife  
(Though it then spared his Life)  
Has marked a fair place for the Rope.   

9  
Now, whoever bears spleen  
To the King or the Queen,  
Or to James the Duke of York,  
He shall have my Vote  
For cutting his Throat,  
Provided he'll perfect the Work.    

The Plotting-Cards revived; or, The new Game at Forty-One.  
Tune, I'll tell thee, Dick, etc.  

1.  
COme, cut again; the Game's not done,  
Though strangely yet the Cards have run,  
As if they packed had been:  
Most likely are to lose, and say  
They know not what's next best to play,  
Such shuffling ne'er was seen.   

2.  
Look well (my Masters) to your hits,  
And have about you all your wits,  
For high the Play does run;  
Three Kingdoms now at stake do lie,  
And Rooks all hocus-tricks do try,  
That ye may be undone.   

3.  
On Clubs and Spades some wholly bet▪  
For they the most are like to get.  
Whilst Hearts in vain contest;  
And Diamonds too, (unto their cost  
That have them) sure are to be lost,  
The blackest Cards are best.   

4.  
God bless all Kings and Queens, though now  
The best Coat-Cards, (the Lord knows how)  
At this preposterous Game,  
Are like all to commanded be,  
And trumpt with all their Royalty,  
By every Knavish Pam—   

5.  
So Hewson blind (though he be dead)  
Alive was by blind Fortune led,  
And still did winning go;  
And ever since we find, that He  
Sweeps all with his Effigy,  
The great Pamphilio.   

6.  
Nay, Trays and Deuces, which were deemed  
The basest Cards, are now esteemed  
Prime ones, to win the day:  
So that, (you see) to gain the Prize,  
Poor Kings and Queens you must despise,  
And Honours throw away.   

7.  
Thus the best Cards are now the worst,  
And what was last is become first,  
No wonder nowadays:  
The Nation topsy turvey lies,  
And (as 'twere pleased with Contraries)  
At losing Load'em plays.    

The Second Part.  

1.  
THis is like some Utopian Game,  
Where Servant-Maids control their Dame,  
And Kings are Subjects made;  
Felons their Judges do indict,  
And He a Traitor is downright  
Who falsely is betrayed!   

2.  
A Dunce who never took Degrees,  
But such as lead to Villainies,  
A DOCTOR is most sound;  
He who, to furnish his own wants,  
Can seize Gold-Cross, or Silver-Saints,  
A JUSTICE is renowned.   

3.  
Who Horse to Battle never led,  
But has with many Horses fled  
Out of his Neighbour's Field,  
A CAPTAIN is; and with his Word  
Kills more than with his duller Sword  
He ever made to yield.   

4.  
A Villain who can cheat his Lord,  
Gets Chains of Gold instead of Cord,  
And is from Prison freed:  
For Him who says he Murdered has,  
A Pardon both for That does pass,  
And all that e'er he did.   

5.  
Who for foul Crimes and Forgeries  
Has worn the Yoke of Pillories,  
And has been whipped about;  
If he but add new Perjury,  
He wipes off past Iniquity,  
And speaks Truth without doubt.   

6.  
He that had rather choose to die,  
Than to redeem his Life with Lie,  
Is th'only perjured Rogue:  
And They who damn themselves to live,  
Sure signs of their Probation give,  
For they're the Saints in vogue.   

7.  
Then play away, (good Countryman)  
What hand's the best is now most-plain,  
And boldly thou may'st stake:  
A Pack of KNAVES together get,  
And never doubt to win the Sett,  
For They the Voll will make.    

A Song upon Information.  
Tune, Conventicles are grown so rief.  

1.  
INforming of lates a notable Trade;  
For he that his Neighbour intends to invade,  
May pack him to Tyburn, (no more's to be said)  
Such Power hath Information.  
Be Good, and be Just, and fight for your King,  
Or stand for your Country's Honour,  
You're sure by precise Information to swing,  
Such Spells she hath got upon her.   

2.  
To Six hundred and sixty, from Forty-one,  
She left not a Bishop or Clergyman,  
But compelled both Church and State to run,  
By the strength of the Nonconformist.  
The Dean and Chapter, Sceptre and Crown,  
(The Lords and Commons snarling)  
By blessed Information came tumbling down,  
Fair Fruits of an overlong parling.   

3.  
'Twas This that summoned the Bodkins all,  
The Th●mbles and Spoons to the City-hall,  
When Saint Hugh to the Babes of Grace did call,  
To prop up the Cause that was sinking:  
This made the Cobbler take the Sword,  
The Pedlar and the Weaver;  
By the power of the Spirit, and not by the Word,  
Made the Tinker wear Cloak and Beaver.   

4.  
'Tis Information from Valadolid  
Makes Jesuits, Friars and Monks to bleed,  
Occapitates Lords; and what not (indeed)  
Doth such damnable Information?  
It Cities burns, and sticks not to boast,  
Without any mincing or scruple,  
Of Forty Thousand Black-Bills by the Post,  
Brought in with the Devil's Pupil.   

5.  
This Imp with her Jealousies and Fears  
Puts all men together by the ears,  
Strikes at Religion, and Kingdoms tears,  
By Voting against the BROTHER.  
This makes Abhorrers, makes Lords Protest,  
They know not why, nor wherefore:  
This strikes at Succession, but aims at the rest;  
Pray look about you therefore   

6.  
This raiseth Armies in the Air,  
Imagining more than you need have to fear;  
Keeps Horse underground, and Arms to tear  
The Cities and Towns in sunder.  
'Tis this made the Knight to Newark run,  
With his Fidus Acates behind him;  
Who brought for the Father one more like the Son,  
The Devil and Zeal did so blind him.   

7.  
It whips, it strips, it hangs, and draws;  
It Pillories also without any cause,  
By falsely Informing the Judges and Laws,  
With a trick from Salamanca;  
This hurly-burlies all the Town,  
Makes Smith and Harris prattle;  
Who spare neither Cassock, Cloak, nor Gown,  
In their paltry Tittle-tatile.   

8.  
'Tis Information affrights us all;  
By Information we rise and fall:  
Without Information there's no PLOT at all;  
And all is but Information.  
That Pickering stood in the Park with a Gun,  
And Godfrey by Berry was strangled;  
'Twas by Information such stories begun,  
Which the Nation so much have entangled.    

A Song on the Popish Plot, by a Lady of Quality.  
Tune, Packington's Pound  

1.  
SInce counterfeit plots have affected this Age,  
Being acted by Fools, and contrived by the Sage;  
In City, nor Suburbs, no man can be found,  
But frighted with Fire-balls, their heads turned round.  
From Pulpit to Pot  
They talked of a Plot,  
Till their Brains were enslaved, & each man turned Sot;  
But let us to Reason and Justice repair,  
And this Popish Bugbear will fly into Air.   

2  
A Politic Statesman, of Body unsound,  
Who once in a Tree, with the Rabble set round,  
Run Monarchy down with Fanatic Rage,  
And preached up Rebellion i' that credulous Age;  
He now is at work  
With the Devil and Turk,  
Pretending a Plot, under which he doth lurk,  
To humble the Mitre, wh●le he squints at the Crown,  
Till fairly and squarely he pulls them down.   

3.  
He had found out an Instrument fit for the Devil,  
Whose mind had been trained up to all that was evil▪  
His Fortune sunk low, and detested by many,  
Kicked out at St. Omers, not pitied by any:  
Some whisperers fixed him  
Upon this Design,  
And with promised Reward did him countermine▪  
Though his Tale was ill told, it served to give fire;  
Despised by the Wise, whilst Fools did admire.   

4.  
The next that appeared, was a foolhardy Knave,  
Who'd plied the Highways, and to Vice was a Slave;  
Being fed out of Basket, in Prison forlorn,  
No wonder that Money should make him forsworn:  
He boldly dares swear  
What men tremble to hear,  
And learns a false Lesson without any Fear;  
For when he is out, there's one that's in's place  
Relieves his invention, and quickens his pace.   

5.  
In a Country Prison another was found,  
Who had cheated his Lord of One thousand Pound;  
He was freed from his Fetters, to swear and inform,  
Which very courageously he did perform:  
To avoid future strife,  
He takes away Life,  
To save poor Protestants from Popish Knife:  
Which only has edge to cut a Rogue's ears,  
For abusing the People with needless Fears.   

6.  
Another starts up, and tells a false Tale,  
Which straight he revoked, his courage frail:  
But, to fortify one that needeth his Aid,  
(Being tempted by Money, which much doth persuade)  
He swore he knew all  
That contrived the fall  
Of one, who that day was seen near to Whitehall;  
Where he by an Officer's powerful breath  
More likely by far received his death.   

7.  
A Gown-man most grave, with Fanatical Form,  
With his scribbling wit doth blow up this storm;  
For motheaten Records he worships the Devil,  
Being now lodged at Court, he must become civil.  
He hunts all about,  
And makes a great Rout,  
To find some o●d Prophecy to help him out;  
But his Friend that was housed with him at Foxhall,  
Being joined with his Master, still strengthens 'em all▪   

1.  
Then comes a cracked Merchant, with his shallow Brain,  
Who first did lead up this stigmatised Train:  
He since is grown useless, his Skill being small;  
Yet at a dead lift he's still at their call:  
He has pestered the Press,  
In ridiculous dress,  
In this scribbling Age he could do no less:  
But to so little purpose as plainly appears,  
With Pen he had as good sat picking his ears.   

9  
To end with a Prayer, as now 'tis my lot,  
Confounded be Plotters, with their Popish Plot:  
God bless and preserve our Gracious Good KING,  
That he may ne'er feel the Presbyters sting;  
As they brought his Father  
With rage to the Block,  
So would they extirpate all the whole Stock:  
But with their false Plots I hope they will end  
At Tyburn, where the Rabble will surely attend.    

The Whigs lamentable Condition; Or, the loyalists Resolution.  
To a pleasant new Tune.  

1.  
THe Deel assists the Plotting Whigs  
To carry on their damned Intrigues,  
And does provide them new supplies,  
Gin any faus and Rascal dies;  
Up starts some Bankrupt perjured Loon,  
Instructed by the Polish Prince,  
How to amuse th'unthinking Toon,  
And make the Bigots lose their sense.   

2.  
This squinting and Curmudgeon sits  
Consulting with his Whiggish Chits,  
Who treacherously with him combine  
To root out a● the Royal Line:  
But Heaven, which has disclosed their Plots,  
Confound their vain Inventions,  
Disperse the wretched hai●-brain'd Sots,  
And cross their cursed Intentions.   

3.  
Whither d'ye hurry Phaeton?  
Is't not enough that he's undone  
By your persideous Treachery,  
The source of au his Infamy?  
But, to promote your wretched ends,  
Ye make the Lorden a stop-gap;  
Like Crocodiles, ye fawning Friends  
Pretendedly mourn his mishap.   

4.  
The Bearn may see how he is feuled,  
Ten late may find that he is gulled:  
Wha● then shall pity his Estate,  
That toiled to be unfortunate?  
He's now a hardy Rebel grown,  
And glories in base actions;  
The silly Lad gangs up and down,  
To make Feuds and Distractions.   

5.  
Wa● to'l the Nations Scabs and Boils,  
Ye that delight in Civil Broils,  
Wha'd set us by the ears again,  
Ye Worriers of Loyal men:  
●'se mean the pert blew-apron Fops,  
Wha meddle with the State affair,  
Leuk to'l your Wives, and mind your Shops,  
Whig Gold nor Cornish shan't be mayor.   

6.  
All Egypt's Plagues seize Doctor T.O.  
Who did design the overthrow  
Of Church and State: Have we forgot  
'Twas He contrived the Popish Plot?  
Can we forget our Martyred Prince,  
Whose Blood does loud for vengeance ca●l?  
Shall we not stand in's Son's defence,  
'Gainst Whigs, wha● wish for his doonfal?   

7.  
Take courage, pull a● Rebels down,  
Obey the KING, and guard His Throne;  
Commit the rest to th' prudent care  
Of our Tribunes and geud L●ird mayor:  
As for our Foes the Rebel-Rout,  
He timely curbed the stubborn Elves;  
Their Villainy he has found out,  
And now they're fit to hang themselves.    

The Present State of ENGLAND.  
Tune, It was in the prime of Cucumber time.  

JAck Presbyter's up, and hopes at one swoop  
To swallow King, Bishops, and all●a:  
The Mitre and Crown must both tumble down,  
Or the Kingdom, he tells you, will fall●a.   

Sure 'tis a hard Fate, that to prop up the State,  
We must pull down the State-Religion:  
But the Saints have a new one, more holy & true one,  
Composed of Fox and Widgeon.   

An Engine they've got, called a damned Popish Plot,  
Which will bring in a Through-Reformation;  
Which, though't be half Fable, it mads the poor Rabble,  
And puts out of wits half the Nation.   

Thus their work's quickly done for each Mother's Son  
That to Church or to King is Loyal,  
Shall straight be indicted, or else be sore frighted  
To be brought to their f●ry Trial.   

'tis no more but pretend he's to popery a Friend  
The Brethren cry loud, he's a Traitor;  
And their Evidences bring against him pretences,  
And all of a Treas'●able nature.   

Th' Impeachers are such, so Hon'rable and Rich,  
That no Bribe can to Falshood invite 'em;  
Tho' they contradict themselves and every body else,  
A good lusty Vo●e can right 'em.   

No matter for blood, their Oaths shall stand good▪  
●n despite of all circumstances:  
The City-Cabals say they cannot swear false,  
And each Pamphlet their Honour enhances.   

Who dares to deny but One single Lie  
Of the Many they swear on their credit,  
Must down on his knees, is rebuked, and pays Fees,  
And must cry Peccavi he did it.   

If any's so bold their tricks to unfold,  
or offers to prove them Liars,  
Straight up steps another, and swears for Rogue-brother,  
And flings the poor Wretch in the Briars.   

Thus Villains 'bout Ten, the worst scum of men,  
(While the Godly Party maintain 'em  
All England do govern, and each such a sovereign,  
The King must not speak again 'em.   

Old Noll and Dad Nick have taught 'em the trick  
To Make Plots, and then to Reveal 'em:  
Thus runs round the Jig of Politic Whig,  
Sure Pardon, if they do not conceal 'em.   

Then inspired they bring in for sad men of sin  
Any one that is Honest and Loyal:  
But if Pardon's denied, all flock on Fitz-side,  
To hector the Mercy Royal.   

Thus most men for fears dare not for their ears  
But Whig and his Rout to second;  
Which if they refuse, they're far worse than Jews,  
And Papists or Traitors are reckoned.   

And every poor Ape who for Changes does gape,  
And to be preferred by the Party,  
To help Good Old Cause wide stretches his ●aws,  
With loud Lies to show himself hearty.   

And those Worthies Three, Care, Vile & Langley,  
Do publish as fast as they make them:  
The being in Print, signifies something in't,  
And the Rabble for Gospel mistake them.   

Mean while Pendent laughs, and at Byter scoffs,  
And at's hotheaded Zeal does flout-a;  
The Coxcomb to see thus shaking the Tree,  
While he's ready to gather the Fruit-a.   

Let Papists be hanged, and Presbyters damned,  
And may goggle-eyed Traitors perish,  
But let true hearts sing, Long live Charles our King,  
The Church and the State to cherish.    

Raree Show; Or, The True-Protestant-Procession.  
Tune, The Northumberland-man.  

1.  
THis is the Cabal of some Prot. Lords,  
A forging the turn that not long since they had;  
Here W—ton sitteth, and searcheth Records,  
To find flaws in good Statutes, and varnish the bad.   

2.  
This is the Lord Toney that slily sits here,  
Who to shame and contrive has never denied;  
And rather than th' Cause should fall through his fear,  
He'll let out Rebellion by broaching his side.   

3.  
This is popular Perkin that smirks & looks gay,  
The women extol the Spark up to the Sky▪  
None danceth with so great a grace, as they say,  
Yet somebody thinks that he caper's too high.   

4.  
Here flourishing E—, the Tongue o'th' Gang,  
With Rhetorical Artifice fancies fine things;  
First vainly composeth a taking Harangue,  
Then fosters a Villain in Libelling Kings.   

5.  
Here's Doctor Informant, that ne'er would stick out  
To traffic in Oaths, or tell a Stately;  
Observe how he firks all the Jesuits about,  
First blaws on a Beuk, and so Papists God b'we ye.   

6.  
Here's Wilmore, that's troubled with scruples and stings,  
His Citizen's Conscience is nice and demure,  
A Traitor's indicted for Treas'nable things;  
But he tells you 'tis false, he's a Protestant sure.   

7.  
These are some sage Citizens that you see there,  
Who (out of their Zeal all our Rights to maintain,  
And to keep out all Slavery) have taken a care  
To put up in the Streets two Posts and a Chain.   

8.  
These are some Apprentices still do retain  
Some Tenets their Masters approve and allow;  
They come to direct a wise Monarch to Reign,  
' Stead of sweeping their Shop, and cleaning of Shoes.   

9  
This is the Committee where Grievance ●s scanned,  
Which remonstrates dangers that threaten the State:  
Good service is here by suspicion trepanned,  
And Allegiance is reckoned Malignancy straight.   

10.  
Here's the Synod of Saints, that will sometimes refresh  
The failings of Nature with means of their own;  
They'll preach you the mortification of Flesh  
With Eyes up to Heaven, and Breeches let down.   

11.  
These are the Cabal of the Covenantiers,  
That think they maintain the Religion the best  
By pulling down Churches and their Overseers,  
And routing the Defender of Faith with the rest.   

12.  
These are the Remains of the Levelling Rump,  
That stink in the House, and fresh Commons annoy;  
And lest the right James should be turned up Trump,  
They cry out, A Court Card will their gaming destroy   

13.  
That Lumber of Trumpery buzzing abou●▪  
Are silly Subscribers that come at first dash,  
To make up a large Petitioning Rout  
Of Link-boys, and all such True-Protestant trash.   

14.  
These there are the Hucksters that Treason retail,  
They'll sell you a sheet with a penymorth in't.  
That's Courantier Care, that never will fail  
To scribble, while Langley dares publish and print.   

15.  
That's the Club of a pack of ingenious Friends,  
That made Charles a Scotch-Pedlar ●th Raree Show,  
And I hope that our Monarch, to make 'em amends,  
Will give them a Yard of St. Johnstons' or two.    

The Pot-Companions; Or, Drinking and Smoking preferred before Caballing and Plotting.  
Tune, Thus all the day long we're frolic and gay.  

1.  
COme make a good Toast,  
and stir up the Fire,  
And fill the great Tankard  
of what we admire:  
Then bring in a Paper  
of excellent Fogoe,  
That we may perfume  
the whole house with the 〈◊〉  
And here let us sit  
Like honest brave Fellows,  
That neither are Tories  
Nor Whigs in an Alehouse.  
And here let us sit, etc.   

2.  
We'll raise no disputes  
Of the Church nor the State,  
To waken the PLOT,  
which has slept out its date;  
Nor came we to treat  
of the Cities great Charter,  
But only to drink  
to the Sons of the Martyr:  
For better it is  
to be honestly Sotting,  
Than live to be hanged  
For Caballing and Plotting.  
For better it is, etc.   

3.  
Since Freedom or Death  
is not in our power,  
What have we to do  
with the Lords in the Tower?  
We'll leave them to Justice,  
let that take its course,  
And set every Saddle  
upon the right Horse;  
Though the Witnesses fade,  
and the Plot's almost rotten,  
Yet Presbyter-Jack  
will ne'er be forgotten.  
Though the Witnesses fade, etc.   

4.  
We have nothing to do  
with the Feuds of the Nation,  
With old Magna Charta,  
nor the Association▪  
Let Shaftsbury fancy  
himself to be crowning,  
Or beg his Quietus,  
and venture a Drowning;  
Let Black-coat swear on,  
and raise up his story:  
That's nothing to us,  
let the Saints have their glory.  
Let Black-coat swear on, etc.   

5.  
Though the Spaniards were landed,  
which Bedlow recounted,  
And all the Commissions  
which Coat gave were mounted;  
And little Don John  
did lead these brave Fellows,  
The Devil a foot  
would we stir from the Ale house:  
When they have raised Armies  
by praying and winking,  
'Tis we that maintain them  
with Smoking and Drinking▪  
When they have raised Armies, etc.   

6.  
Then away to the King,  
let the Tankard go round;  
May the Plots and the Plotters  
each other confound:  
To His Highness the Duke,  
and the Royal Successors,  
And every Member  
of Loyal Addressers;  
To the honest Lord Mayor,  
and all other old Christians;  
But guard us, good Lord,  
from these whining Philistims.  
To the honest Lord Mayor, etc.    

The Bully Whig; Or, The poor Whore's Lamentation for the Apprehending Sir Thomas Armstrong.  
Tune, Ah! Cruel bloody Fate! etc.  

1.  
AH! Cruel bloody Tom!  
What couldst thou hope for more,  
Than to receive the Doom  
Of all thy Crimes before?  
For all thy bold Conspiracies  
Thy Head must pay the score;  
Thy Cheats and Lies,  
Thy Box and Dice,  
Will serve thy turn no more.   

2.  
●ngrateful thankless Wretch!  
How couldst thou hope in vain  
rout the reach of Catch)  
Thy Treasons to maintain?  
For Murders long since done and passed,  
Thou Pardons hast had store,  
And yet wouldst still  
Stab on, and kill,  
As if thou hop'dst for more.   

3.  
Yet Tom, e'er he would starve,  
More Blood resolved to'●e spilt;  
Thy flight did only serve  
To justify thy Gild:  
While They whose harmless Innocence  
Submit to Chains at home,  
Are each day freed,  
While Traitors bleed,  
And suffer in their room.   

4.  
When Whigs a PLOT did Vote,  
What Peer from Justice fled?  
In the FANATIC PLOT  
Tom durst not show his Head.  
Now Sacred Justice rules above,  
The Guiltless are set free,  
And the Napper's napped,  
And Clapper clapped,  
In his CONSPIRACY.   

5.  
Like Cain, thou hadst a Mark  
Of Murder on thy Brow;  
Remote, and in the dark,  
Black Gild did still pursue;  
Nor England, Holland France, or Spain;  
The Traitor can defend;  
He will be found  
In Fetters bound,  
To pay for't in the end.   

6.  
Tom might about the Town  
Have bullyed, huffed and roared,  
By every Venus known,  
Been for a Ma●s adored:  
By friendly Pimping, and false Dice,  
Thou mightst have longer lived,  
Hectored and shamm'd,  
And swore and gamed,  
Hadst thou no Plots contrived.   

7  
Tom once was Cock-a-hoop  
Of all the Huffs in Town;  
But now his Pride must stoop,  
His Courage is pulled down:  
So long his Spurs are grown, poor Tom  
Can neither fly nor fight;  
Ah Cruel Fate!  
That at this rate  
The 'Squire should foil the Knight!   

8▪  
But now no remedy,  
It being his just Reward;  
In his own Trap, you see,  
The eygre is ensnared:  
So may all Traitors fare, till all  
Who for their Gild did fly,  
With Bully Tom  
By timely Doom,  
Like Him, unpityed die.    

The Jealous Lady's Complaint.  
To an Excellent New Tune.  

1.  
TEll me no more,  
There must be something in't;  
Think what you swore  
When first you did begined,  
That n●n● but I  
Could e●r your heart suffice;  
And my Eyes and my Thighs,  
How your mind it did surprise:  
But now, You Bitch, you look so leam,  
You damned confounded stinking Quean,  
Are all the words that I can gain  
For my great pain.   

2.  
Can you forget  
The ●oys you did delight in,  
And those great Pleasures  
You used to spend the night in?  
When with sweet Raptures  
So close you did embrace▪  
And your Love used to move  
In another pretty place;  
But now you turn away your head,  
And there you lie as tho' you're dead,  
And all the joys I had in Bed  
Are gone and fled.     

ANAGRAM and ACROSTIC On the Salamanca-Sizer.  

Ana 

TITUS OATS,  
JUST A SOT.   gram.  
WHen Adam proper Names on Beasts conferred,  
The Salamanca-Doctor was i'th' Herd;  
The Midwife, she foresaw 'twould prove a Dunce,  
So gave him Name and Character at once:  
Which but unfold, and join again with Art,  
Both Sot and Drunkard lurk in every part;  
Nor in his Temper thus alone betrayed,  
'Tis on his Face in Ruby Signs displayed.  
Well may we doubt the Gospel of that PLOT,  
Whose chiefest Evidence is JUST A SOT.   

An ACROSTIC  
Traitor to God, damned Source of Blasphemy,  
Insect of Hell, grand Mass of Perjury;  
Thorough-paced Villain, second unto none,  
Unless to Judas, (if by Him outdone;)  
Satan's black Agent, Hell's Monopoly  
Of all that's called Sin and Villainy;  
A cursed Parent of an Hellbred Brood,  
Teacher of Lies, Spiller of guiltless Blood;  
England's dark Cloud, eclipsing all her Glory;  
Satan's Delight, and Hell's Repository.   
FINIS.