THE THIRD PART OF THE COLLECTION OF POEMS ON Affairs of State. Containing, Esquire Marvel's further Instructions to a Painter. AND The late Lord Rochester's Farewell.  
LONDON: Printed in the Year M DC LXXXIX.   

THE LAST INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER.  

AFter two sit, now our Lady State,  
To end her Picture, does the third time wait.  
But ere thou fall'st to work, first Painter see  
It be'nt too slight grown, or too hard for thee.  
Canst thou paint without Colours? Then 'tis right:  
For so we too without a Fleet can fight.  
Or hast thou dawb a Signpost, and that ill?  
'Twill suit our great debauch and little skill.  
Or hast thou marked how antique Masters limn  
The Aly roof, with snuff of Candle dim,  
Sketching in shady smoke prodigious tools,  
'Twill serve this race of Drunkards, Pimps, and Fools.  
But if to match our Crimes thy skill presumes,  
As th' Indians draw our Luxury in Plumes.  
Or if to score out our compendious Fame,  
With Hook then, through the microscope, take aim:  
Where, like the new Controller, all men laugh  
To see a tall Louse brandish the white Staff.  
Else shalt thou oft thy guiltless Pencil curse,  
Stamp on thy palate, nor perhaps the worse.  
The Painter so, long having vexed his cloth,  
Of his Hound's Mouth to feign the raging froth,  
His desperate Pencil at the work did dart,  
His Anger reached that rage which past his Art;  
Chance finished that which Art could but begin,  
And he sat smiling how his Dog did grinn.  
So may'st thou perfect, by a lucky blow,  
What all thy softest touches cannot do.   

Paint then St. A— s full of soup and gold,  
The new Courts pattern, Stallion of the old.  
Him neither Wit nor Courage did exalt,  
But Fortune chose him for her pleasure salt.  
Paint him with Drayman's Shoulders, butcher's Mien,  
Membered like Mules, with Elephantine chine.  
Well he the Title of St. A— s bore,  
For never Bacon studied Nature more.  
But Age, allaying now that youthful heat,  
Fits him in France to play at Cards and treat.  
Draw no Commission lest the Court should lie,  
That, disavowing Treaty, ask supply.  
He needs no Seal, but to St. James' lease,  
Whose Breeches were the Instrument of Peace.  
Who, if the French dispute his Power, from thence  
Can strait produce them a Plenipotence.  
Nor fears he the most Christian should trepan  
Two Saints at once, St. G— n, St. A— n.  
But thought the Golden Age was now restored,  
When Men and Women took each others Word.   

Paint then again Her H—ss to the life,  
Philosopher beyond Newcastles Wife.  
She, naked, can Archimedes self put down,  
For an Experiment upon the Crown.  
She perfected that Engine, oft assayed,  
How after Childbirth to renew a Maid.  
And found how Royal Heirs might be matured,  
In sewer months than Mothers once endured.  
Hence C— r made the rare Inventress free,  
Of's H— s Royal Society.  
Happy'st of Women, if she were but able  
To make her glassen D—s once malleable!  
Paint her with Oyster Lip, and breath of Fame,  
Wide Mouth that Asparagus may well proclaim:  
With Chanc'lor's Belly, and so large a Rump.  
There, not behind the Coach, her Pages jump.  
Express her studying now, if China-clay,  
Can without breaking venomed juice convey.  
Or how a mortal Poison she may draw,  
Out of the cordial meal of the Cacao.  
Witness ye stars of Night, and thou the pale  
Moon, that overcome with the sick steam didst fail;  
Ye neighbouring Elms, that your green leaves did she  
And Fawns, that from the womb abortive fled.  
Not unprovok'd she tries forbidden Arts,  
But in her soft Breast Loves hid Cancer smarts.  
While she revolves, at once, Sidney's disgrace,  
And herself scorned sor emulous Denham's Face;  
And nightly hears the hated Guards away  
Galloping with the Duke to other Prey.   

Paint C— in Colours that will hold,  
Her, not her Picture, for she now grows old.  
She through her Lackeys Drawers as he ran,  
Discerned Love's Cause, and a new Flame began.  
Her wont joys thenceforth and Court she shuns,  
And still within her mind the Footman runs:  
His brazen Calves, his brawny Thighs, (the Face  
She slights) his Feet shaped for a smother race.  
Poring within her Glass she re-adjusts  
Her looks, and oft-tryed Beauty now distrusts:  
Fears lest he scorn a Woman once assayed,  
And now first, wished she e'er had been a Maid.  
Great Love, how dost thou triumph, and how reign,  
That to a Groom couldst humble her disdain!  
Stripped to her Skin, see how she stooping stands,  
Nor scorns to rub him down with those fair Hands;  
And washing (lest the scent her Crime disclose)  
His sweaty Hooves, tickles him 'twixt the Toes.  
But envious Fame, too soon, begun to note  
More gold in's Fob, more Lace upon his Coat:  
And he, unwary, and of Tongue too fleet,  
No longer could conceal his Fortune sweet.  
Justly the Rogue was whipped in Porter's Den:  
And I— n strait has leave to come again.  
Ah Painter, now could Alexander live,  
And this Campaspe thee Apelles give!   

Draw next a Pair of Tables opening, than  
The House of Commons clatt'ring like the Men.  
Describe the Court and Country, both set right,  
On opposite points, the black against the white.  
Those having lost the Nation at Trick tract,  
These now adventuring how to win it back.  
The Dice betwixt them must the Fate divide,  
As Chance does still in Multitudes decide.  
But here the Court does its advantage know,  
For the Cheat T— for them both must throw.  
As some from Boxes, he so from the Chair  
Can strike the Die, and still with them goes share.   

Here Painter rest a little, and survey  
With what small Arts the public game they play.  
For so too Rubens, with affairs of State,  
His labouring Pencil oft would recreate.   

The close Cabal marked how the Navy eats,  
And thought all lost that goes not to the Cheats:  
So therefore secretly for Peace decrees,  
Yet as for War the Parliament should squeeze;  
And fix to the Revenne such a Sum,  
Should G— k silence, and strike P— n dumb;  
Should pay Land Armies, should dissolve the vain  
Commons, and ever such a Court maintain,  
H—'s Avarice, B—'s Luxury should suffice,  
And what can these defray but the Excise?  
Excise, a Monster worse than e'er before  
Frighted the Midwife, and the Mother tore.  
A thousand Hands she has and thousand Eyes,  
Breaks into Shops, and into Cellars pries.  
With hundred rows of Teeth the Shark exceeds,  
And on all Trade like Casawar she feeds:  
Chaps off the piece where e'er she close the Jaw,  
Else swallows all down her indented maw.  
She stalks all day in Streets concealed from sight,  
And flies like Bats with leathern Wings by Night.  
She wastes the Country and on City's preys.  
Her, of a female Harpy, in Dog Days:  
Black B— b, of all the Earthborn race most hot,  
And most rapacious, like himself begot.  
And, of his Brat enamoured, as't increased,  
Buggered in Incest with the mongrel Beast.   

Say Muse, for nothing can escape thy sight,  
(And Painter, wanting other, draw this Fight.)  
Who, in an English Senate, fierce debate,  
Could raise so long for this new Whore of State.   

Of early Wittols first the Troop marched in,  
For Diligence renowned, and Discipline:  
In Loyal haste they lest young Wives in Bed,  
And D—m these by one consent did head.  
Of the old Courtiers next a Squadron came,  
That sold their Master, led by A— m.  
To them succeeds a despicable Rout,  
But knew the Word and well could face about;  
Expectants pale, with hopes of spoil allured,  
Thought yet but Pioners, and led by S— d.  
Then damning Cowards ranged the vocal Plain,  
W— d these commands, Knight of the Horn and Cane.  
Still his Hook-shoulder seems the blow to dread,  
And under's Armpit he desends his Head.  
The posture strange men laughed at of his Poll,  
Hid with his Elbow like the Spice he stole.  
Headless St. Dennis so his Head does bear;  
And both of them alike French Martyrs were.  
Court-Officers, as used, the next place took,  
And followed F— x, but with disdainful look.  
His Birth, his Youth, his Brokage all dispraise,  
In vain, for always he commands that pays.  
Then the Procurers under P— s filled,  
Gentlest of men, and his Lieutenant mild.  
B— d Loves Squire; through all the field arrayed,  
No Troop was better clad nor so well paid.  
Then marched the Troop of C— n, all full,  
Haters of Fowl, to Teal preferring Bull.  
Gross Bodies, grosser Minds, and grossest Cheats;  
And bloated W— n conducts them to their seats.  
C— n advances next, whose Coif does awe  
The Mitre Troop, and with his looks gives Law.  
He Marched with Beaver cocked of Bishop's brim,  
And hid much Fraud under an aspect grim.  
Next th' Lawyer's Mercenary Band appear:  
F—h, in the Front, and T— d in the Rear.  
The Troop of Privilege, a Rubble bore  
Of Debtors deep, fell to Trelawny's Care.  
Their Fortune's error they supplied in rage,  
Nor any further would then these engage.  
Then marched the Troop, whose valiant Acts before,  
(Their public Acts) obliged them still to more.  
For Chimney's sake they all Sir P— obeyed?  
Or in his absence him that first it laid.  
Then comes the thrifty Troop of Privateers,  
Whose Horses each with other enterfeers.  
Before them H—s rides with brow compact,  
Mourning his Countess, anxious for his Act.  
Sir Fredrick and Sir Solomon draw Lots  
For the command of Politics or Sots.  
Thence fell to Words, but, quarrel to adjourn,  
Their Friends agreed they should command by turn.  
C— t the rich did the Accomptants guide,  
And in ill English all the World defied.  
The Papists, but of those the House had none:  
Else T— t offered to have led them on.  
Bold D— e next, of the Projectors chief:  
And old F— g of the Eaters Beef.  
Late and disordered out the Drinkers drew:  
Scarce them their Leaders, they their Leaders knew.  
Before them entered, equal in Command,  
A— v and B— k, marching hand in hand.  
Last then but one, P—ll, that could not ride,  
Led the French Standard, weltering in his stride,  
He, to excuse his slowness, truth confessed  
That 'twas so long before he could be dressed.  
The Lords Sons, last, all these did reinforce:  
C C —y before them managed Hobby-horse.   

Never, before nor since, an Host so steeled  
Trooped on to muster in the Tuttle-field.  
Not the first Cockhorse, that with Cork were shod  
To rescue Albemarle from the Sea-Cod:  
Nor the late Feathermen, whom T— s fierce  
Shall with one Breath like thistle-down disperses.  
All the two C—ys their Generals chose:  
For one had much, the other nought to lose.  
Nor better choice all accidents could hit;  
While Hector Harry steers by Will the Wit:  
They both acccpt the Charge with merry glee,  
To fight a Battle, from all Gun-shot free.   

Pleased with their Numbers, yet in Valour wise,  
They feign a parley, better to furprize:  
They, that e'er long shall the rude Dutch upbraid,  
Who in a time of Treaty durst invade.  
Thick was the Morning, and the House was thin,  
The Speaker early, when they all fell in.  
Propitious Heavens, had not you them crossed,  
Excise had got the day, and all been lost.  
For th' other side all in loose Quarters lay,  
Without Intelligence, Command, or Pay:  
A scattered Body, which the Foe ne'er tried,  
But oftener did among themselves divide.  
And some ran o'er each night while others sleep,  
And undescryed returned ere morning peep.  
But S— s, that all Night still walked the round,  
(For Vigilance and Courage both renowned)  
First spied the Enemy and gave th' Alarm:  
Fight it single till the rest might arm.  
Such Roman Cocles strid: before the Foe,  
The falling Bridge behind, the Stream below.   

Each ran, as chance him guides, to several Post:  
And all to pattern his Example boast.  
Their former Trophies they recall to mind,  
And to new edge their angry Courage grind.  
First entered forward T— e, Conqueror  
Of Irish-cattels and Solicitor.  
Then daring S— r, that with Spear and Shield,  
Had stretched the monster Patent on the Field.  
Keen W— d next, in aid of Damsel frail,  
That pierced the Giant M— t through his Mail.  
And surly W— s, the Accomptants bane:  
And L— e young, of Chimney-men the Cane.  
Old W— r, Trumpet-gen'ral swore he'd write  
This Combat truer than the Naval Fight.  
Of Birth, State, Wit, Strength, Courage, H— d presumes,  
And in his Breast wears many Montezumes.  
These and some more with single Valour stay  
The adverse Troops, and hold them all at Bay.  
Each thinks his Person represents the whole,  
And with that thought does multiply his Soul:  
Believes himself an Army, there's one Man,  
As easily Conquered, and believing can.  
With Heart of Bees so full, and Head of Mites,  
That each, tho' Duelling, a Battle fights.  
Such once Orlando, famous in Romance,  
Broached whole Brigades like Larks upon his Lance.   

But strength at last still under number bows,  
And the faint sweat trickled down T—s Brows.  
Even Iron S— s, chafing yet gave back,  
Spent with fatigue, to breathe a while To back.  
When, marching in, a seas'nable recruit  
Of Citizens and Merchants held dispute:  
And, charging all their Pikes, a sullen Band  
Of Presbyterian Swissers, made a stand.   

Nor could all these the Field have long maintained,  
But for th'unknown Reserve that still remained:  
A Gross of English Gentry, nobly born,  
Of clear Estates, and to no Faction sworn;  
Dear Lovers of their King, and Death to meet,  
For Countries Cause, that Glorious think and sweet:  
To speak not forward, but in Action brave;  
In giving Generous, but in Counsel Grave;  
Candidly credulous for once, nay twice;  
But sure the Devil cannot cheat them thrice.  
The Van and Battle, though retiring, falls  
Without disorder in their Intervals:  
Then closing, all in equal Front fall on,  
Led by great G G —y, and great L— n.  
L— e, equal to obey or to command,  
Adjutant-General was still at hand.  
The martial Standard S— s displaying, shows  
St. Dunstan in it, tweaking Satan's Nose.  
See sudden chance of War! To Paint or Write,  
Is longer Work, and harder than to fight.  
At the first Charge the Enemy give out;  
And the Excise receives a total Rout.  
Broken in Courage, yet the Men the same,  
Resolve henceforth upon their other Game:  
Where force had failed with Stratagem to play,  
And what haste lost, recover by delay.  
St. A—s strait is sent to, to forbear,  
Lest the sure Peace, forsooth, too soon appear.  
The Seamens Clamour to three ends they use;  
To cheat their Pay, feign want, the House accuse.  
Each day they bring the Tale, and that too true,  
How strong the Dutch their Equipage renew.  
Mean time through all the Yards their Orders run  
To lay the Ships up, cease the Keels begun.  
The Timber rots, and useless Axe does rust,  
The unpractised Saw lies buried in its Dust;  
The busy Hammer sleeps, the Rope untwines;  
The Stores and Wages all are mine and thine.  
Along the Coast and Harbours they take care  
That Money lack, nor Forts be in repair.  
Long thus they could against the House conspire,  
Load them with Envy, and with Sitting tire:  
And the loved King, and never yet denied,  
Is brought to beg in public and to chide.  
But when this failed, and Months enough were spent,  
They with the first days proffer seem content:  
And to Land-tax from the Excise turn round,  
Bought off with Eighteen hundred thousand pound.  
Thus, like fair Thiefs, the Commons Purse they share,  
But all the Members Lives, consulting, spare.   

Blither than Hare that hath escaped the Hounds,  
The House Prorogued, the Chancellor rebounds.  
Not so decrepit Aeson, hash'd and stewed  
With Magic Herbs, rose from the Pot renewed:  
And with fresh Age felt his glad Limbs unite;  
His Gout (yet still he cursed) had left him quite:  
What Frosts to Fruit, what Ars'nick to the Rat,  
What to fair D— mortal Chocolat;  
What an Account to C— t; that and more  
A Parliament is to the Chancellor.  
So the sad Tree shrinks from the Morning's Eye;  
But blooms all Night, and shoots its branches high.  
So, at the Sun's recess, again returns,  
The Comet dread, and Earth and Heaven burns.   

Now M— 't may, within his Castle Tower,  
Imprison Parents, and the Child deflower.   

The Irish-Herd is now let loose, and comes  
By Millions over, not by Hecatombs.  
And now, now, the Canary-Patent may  
Be Broached again, for the great Holiday.   

See how he Reigns in his new Palace culminant,  
And sits in State Divine like Jove the fulminant!  
First B—m, that durst to him Rebel,  
Blasted with Lightning, struck with Thunder fell.  
Next the TwelveCommons are condemned to groan,  
And roll in vain at Sisyphus' Stone.  
But still he cared, while in Revenge he braved,  
That Peace secured, and Money might be saved.  
Gain and Revenge, Revenge and Gain are sweet:  
United most, else when by turns they meet.  
France had St. A— s promised (so they sing)  
St. A— s promised him, and he the King.  
The Count forthwith is ordered all to close,  
To play for Flanders, and the stake to lose.  
While Chained together two Ambassadors  
Like Slaves, shall beg for Peace at Holland's doors.  
This done, among his Cyclops he retires,  
To forge new Thunder, and inspect their Fires.   

The Court, as once of War, now fond of Peace,  
All to new Sports their wanton fears release.  
From Greenwich (where Intelligence they hold)  
Comes news of Pastime, Martial and old:  
A Punishment invented first to awe  
Masculine Wives, transgressing Natures Law.  
Where when the brawny Female disobeys,  
And beats the Husband till for peace he prays:  
No concerned Jury for him Damage finds,  
Nor partial Justice her Behaviour binds;  
But the just Street does the next House invade,  
Mounting the neighbour Couple on lean Jade.  
The Distaff knocks, the Grains from Kettle fly,  
And Boys and Girls in Troops run houting by;  
Prudent Antiquity, that knew by Shame,  
Better than Law, Domestic Crimes to tame,  
And taught Youth by Spectacle Innocent!  
So thou and I, dear Painter, represent  
In quick Effigy, others Faults, and feign  
By making them ridiculous to restrain.  
With homely sight, they chose thus to relax  
The Joys of State, for the new Peace and Tax.  
So Holland with us had the mastery tried,  
And our next neighbour's France and Flanders ride.   

But a fresh News, the great designment nips,  
Off, at the Isle of Candy, Dutch and Ships.  
Bab May and A— n did wisely scoff,  
And thought all safe if they were so far off.  
Modern Geographers, `twas there they thought,  
Where Venice twenty years the Turk had fought:  
While the first year our Navy is but shown,  
The next divided, and the third we've none.  
They, by the Name, mistook it for that Isle,  
Where Pilgrim Palmer travelled in Exile,  
With the Bull's Horn to measure his own Head,  
And on Pasiphae's Tomb to drop a Bead.  
But M— e learned demonstrates, by the Post,  
This Isle of Candy was on Essex Coast.   

Fresh Messengers still the sad News assure,  
More timorous now we are, than first secure.  
False Terrors our believing Fears devise:  
And the French Army one from Calais spies.  
B— t and M— y, and those of shorter reach,  
Change all for Guinea's, and a Crown for each:  
But wiser Men, and well foreseen in chance,  
In Holland theirs had lodged before, and France.  
Whitehall's unsafe, the Court all meditates  
To fly to Windsor, and mure up the Gates.  
Each does the other blame, and all distrust;  
But M— t new obliged, would sure be just.  
Not such a fatal stupefaction reigned  
At London's Flame, nor to the Court complained.  
The Bloodworth-C— r gives, then does recall  
Orders, amazed at last gives none at all.   

St. A— s writ to that he may bewail  
To Master Lewis, and tell Coward tale,  
How yet the Hollanders do make a noise,  
Threaten to beat us, and are naughty Boys.  
Now Doleman's disobedient, and they still  
Uncivil: His unkindness would us kill.  
Tell him our Ships unrigged, our Forts unmanned,  
Our Money spent; else 'twere at his command.  
Summon him therefore of his Word, and prove  
To move him out of Pity, if not Love.  
Pray him to make De-Witte, and Ruyter cease,  
And whip the Dutch, unless they'll hold their peace.  
But Lewis was of Memory but dull,  
And to St. A— ● too undutiful;  
Nor Word, nor near Relation did revere;  
But asked him bluntly for his Character.  
The graveled Count did with the Answer faint:  
(His Character was that which thou didst paint)  
And so enforced, like Enemy or Spy,  
Trusses his baggage, and the Camp does fly.  
Yet Lewis writes, and lest our Hearts should break,  
Consoles us morally out of Seneque.   

Two Letters next unto Breda are sent,  
In Cipher one to Harry Excellent.  
The first instructs our (Verse the Name abhors)  
Plenipotentiary Ambassadors,  
To prove by Scripture, Treaty does imply  
Cessation, as the look Adultery.  
And that by Law of Arms, in Martial strife,  
Who yields his Sword has Title to his Life.  
Presbyter H—s the first point should clear;  
The second C C —y the Cavalier.  
But, would they not be argued back from Sea,  
Then to return home strait infecta re.  
But Harry's Order, if they won't recall  
Their Fleet, to threaten, we will give them all.   

The Dutch are then in Proclamation shent,  
For Sin against th' Eleventh Commandment.  
H— s flippant Style there pleasantly curvets;  
Still his sharp Wit on States and Princes whets.  
(So Spain could not escape his Laughters Spleen:  
None but himself must choose the King a Queen.)  
But when he came the odious Clause to Pen,  
That summons up the Parliament again;  
His Writing-Master many a time he banned,  
And wished himself the Gout, to seize his hand.  
Never old Lecher more repugnance felt,  
Consenting, for his Rupture, to be Gelt;  
But still in hope he solaced, ere they come,  
To work the Peace, and so to send them home.  
Or in their hasty Call to find a flaw,  
Their Acts to vitiate, and them over-awe.  
But most relied upon this Dutch pretence,  
To raise a two-edged Army for's defence.   

First, than he marched our whole Militia's force,  
(As if, alas, we Ships or Dutch had Horse.)  
Then, from the usual Common-place, he blames  
These; and in Standing-Armies praise declaims.  
And the wise Court, that always loved it dear,  
Now thinks all but too little for their Fear.  
H— e stamps, and strait upon the ground the swarms  
Of current Myrmidons appear in Arms.  
And for their Pay he writes as from the King,  
With that cursed Quill plucked from a Vulture's Wing:  
Of the whole Nation now to ask a Loan.  
(The Eighteen hundred thousand pound was gone.)   

This done, he Pens a Proclamation stout,  
In rescue of the Banquiers Bankrupt:  
His minion Imps that, in his secret part,  
Lie nuzz'ling at the Sacramental wart;  
Horseleeches circling at the Hem'roid Vein;  
He sucks the King, they him, he them again.  
The Kingdom's Farm he lets to them bid least:  
Greater the Bribe, and that's at Interest.  
Here Men induced by Safety, Gain, and Ease,  
Their Money lodge; confiscate when he please.  
These can, at need, at instant, with a scrip,  
(This liked him best) his Cash beyond Sea whip.  
When Dutch Invade, when Parliament prepare,  
How can he Engines so convenient spare?  
Let no Man touch them, or demand his own,  
Pain of Displeasure of great C— n.  
The State Affairs thus Marshaled, for the rest  
Monk in his Shirt against the Dutch is pressed.  
Often, dear Painter, have I sat and mused  
Why he should still b'on all adventures used.  
If they for nothing ill, like Ashen-wood,  
Or think him, like Herb-John, for nothing good.  
Whether his Valour they so much admire,  
Or that for Cowardice they all retire.  
As Heaven in Storms, they call, in gusts of State,  
On Monk and Parliament, yet both do hate.  
All Causes sure concur, but most they think  
Under Herculean Labours he may sink.  
Soon than the Independent Troops would close,  
And H—'s last Project would his Place dispose.   

Ruyter the while, that had our Ocean curbed,  
Sailed now among our Rivers undisturbed:  
Surveyed their Crystal Streams, and Banks so green,  
And Beauties ere this never naked seen.  
Through the vain sedge the bashful Nymphs he eyed;  
Bosoms, and all which from themselves they hide.  
The Sun much brighter, and the Skies more clear,  
He finds the Air, and all things, sweeter here.  
The sudden change, and such a tempting sight,  
Swells his old Veins with sresh Blood, fresh Delight.  
Like amorous Victors he begins to shave,  
And his new Face looks in the English Wave.  
His sporting Navy all about him swim,  
And witness their complaisence in their trim.  
Their streaming Silks play through the weather fair,  
And with inveigling Colours Court the Air.  
While the red Flags breath on their Top-masts high  
Terror and War, but want an Enemy.  
Among the Shrowds the Seamen sit and sing,  
And wanton Boys on every Rope do cling.  
Old Neptune springs the Tides, and Water lent:  
(The Gods themselves do help the provident.)  
And, where the deep Keel on the shallow cleaves,  
With Tridents Leaver, and great Shoulder heaves.  
Aeolus' their Sails inspires with Eastern Wind,  
Puffs them along, and breathes upon them kind.  
With Pearly Shell the Tritons all the while  
Sound the Sea-march, and guide to Sheppy Isle.   

So have I seen in April's bud, arise  
A Fleet of Clouds, sailing along the Skies:  
The liquid Region with their Squadrons filled,  
The airy Sterns the Sun behind does gild;  
And gentle Gales them steer, and Heaven drives,  
When, all on sudden, their calm bosom rives  
With Thunder and Lightning from each armed Cloud;  
Shepherds themselves in vain in bushes shroud.  
Such up the stream the Belgic Navy glides,  
And at Sheerness unloads its stormy sides.   

S— g there, though practised in the Sea command,  
With panting Heart, lay like a fish on Land,  
And quickly judged the Fort was not tenable,  
Which, if a House, yet were not tenantable.  
No man can sit there safe, the Cannon powers  
Through the Walls untight, and Bullet showers:  
The neighbr'hood ill, and an unwholesome seat.  
So at the first Salute resolves Retreat,  
And swore that he would never more dwell there  
Until the City put it in repair.  
So he in Front, his Garrison in Rear,  
March strait to Chatham, to increase the fear.   

There our sick Ships unrigged in Summer lay,  
Like molting Fowl, a weak and easy Prey.  
For whose strong bulk Earth scarce could Timber sinned,  
The Ocean Water, or the Heavens Wind.  
Those Oaken Giants of the ancient Race,  
That ruled all Seas, and did our Channel grace.  
The conscious Stag, so once the Forests dread,  
Flies to the Wood, and hides his armless Head.  
Ruyter forthwith a Squadron does untack,  
They sail securely through the River's tract.  
An English Pilot too, (O Shame, O Sin!)  
Cheated of Pay, was he that showed them in.   

Our wretched Ships within their Fate attend,  
And all our hopes now on frail Chain depend:  
Engine so slight to guard us from the Sea,  
It sitter seemed to captivate a Flea.  
A Skipper rude shocks it without respect,  
Filling his Sails, more force to recollect.  
Th' English from shore the Iron deaf invoke  
For its last aid: Hold Chain or we are broke.  
But with her Sailing weight, the Holland Keel  
Snapping the brittle links, does thorough reel;  
And to the rest the opened passage show.   

Monk from the bank the dismal sight does view.  
Our feathered Gallants, which came down that day  
To be Spectators safe of the new Play,  
Leave him alone when first they hear the Gun;  
(C— y the fleetest) and to London run.  
Our Seamen, whom no Dangers shape could fright,  
Unpaid, refuse to mount our Ships for spite:  
Or to their fellows swim on board the Dutch,  
Which show the tempting metal in their clutch.  
Oft had he sent, of D— e and of L— g  
Cannon and Powder, but in vain, to beg:  
And Vpnor-Castle's ill-deserted Wall,  
Now needful, does for Ammunition call.  
He finds wheresoever he secure might expect;  
Confusion, folly, treach'ry, fear, neglect.   

But when the Royal Charles, what Rage, what Grief,  
He saw seized, and could give her no Relief!  
That sacred Keel, which had, as he, restored  
His exiled sovereign on its happy Board;  
And thence the British Admiral became;  
Crowned, for that Merit, with their Master's Name  
That Pleasure-boat of War, in whose dear side  
Secure so oft he had this Foe defy'd:  
Now a cheap spoil, and the mean Victor's Slave,  
Taught the Dutch Colours from its top to wave;  
Of former Glories the reproachful thought,  
With present shame compared, his mind distraught.  
Such from Euphrates bank, a Tygress fell,  
After the Robbers, for her Whelps does yell:  
But sees, enraged, the River flow between.  
Frustrate Revenge, and Love, by loss more keen,  
At her own Breast her useless claws does arm;  
She tears herself since him she cannot harm.  
The Guards, placed for the Chains and Fleets defence,  
Long since were fled on many a feigned pretence.  
Daniel had there adventured, Man of might;  
Sweet Painter draw his Picture while I write.  
Paint him of Person tall, and big of bone,  
Large Limbs, like Ox, not to be killed but shown.  
Scarce can burnt Ivory feign an Hair so black,  
Or Face so rod thine Ochre and thy Lack.  
Mix a vain Terror in his Martial look,  
And all those lines by which men are mistake.  
But when, by shame constrained to go on Board,  
He heard how the wild Cannon nearer roared;  
And saw himself confined, like Sheep in Pen;  
Daniel then thought he was in Lions Den.  
But when the srightful Fireships he saw,  
Pregnant with Sulphur, to him nearer draw  
Captain, Lieutenant, Ensign, all make haste,  
ere in the Fiery Furnace they be cast.  
Three Children tall, unsinged, away they row,  
Like Shadrack, Mesheck, and Abednego.  
Not so brave Douglas; on whose lovely chin  
The early Down but newly did begin;  
And modest Beauty yet his Sex did Veil,  
While envious Virgins hope he is a Male.  
His yellow Locks curl back themselves to seek,  
Nor other Courtship knew but to his Cheek.  
Oft has he in i'll Eske or Seine, by night,  
Hardened and cooled his Limbs, so soft, so white,  
Among the Reeds, to be espied by him,  
The Nymphs would rustle; he would forward swim.  
They sighed and said, Fond Boy, why so untame,  
That fliest Love Fires, reserved for other Flame?  
Fixed on his Ship, he faced that horrid Day,  
And wondered much at those that run away:  
Nor other fear himself could comprehend,  
Then, lest Heaven fall, ere thither he ascend.  
But entertains, the while, his time too short  
With birding at the Dutch, as if in sport:  
Or Waves his Sword, and could he them conjure  
Within its circle, knows himself secure.  
The fatal Bark him boards with grappling fire,  
And safely through its Port the Dutch retire:  
That precious life he yet disdains to save,  
Or with known Art to try the gentle Wave.  
Much him the Honours of his ancient Race  
Inspire, nor would he his own deeds deface.  
And secret Joy, in his calm Soul does rise,  
That Monk looks on to see how Douglas dies.  
Like a glad Lover, the fierce Flames he meets,  
And tries his first embraces in their Sheets.  
His shape exact, which the bright flames enfold,  
Like the Sun's Statue stands of burnished Gold.  
Round the transparent Fire about him glows,  
As the clear Amber on the Bee does close:  
And, as on Angels Heads their Glories shine,  
His burning Locks adorn his Face Divine.  
But, when in his immortal Mind he felt  
His altering Form, and soldered Limbs to melt;  
Down on the Deck he laid himself, and died,  
With his dear Sword reposing by his Side.  
And, on the flaming Plank, so rests his Head,  
As one that's warmed himself and gone to Bed.  
His Ship burns down, and with his Relics sinks,  
And the sad Stream beneath his Ashes drinks.  
Fortunate Boy! if either Pencil's Fame,  
Or if my Verse can propagate thy Name;  
When Oeta and Alcides are forgot,  
Our English youth shall sing the Valiant Scot   

Each doleful day still with fresh loss returns;  
The Loyal-London, now a third time burns.  
And the true Royal-Oak, and Royal-James,  
Allied in Fate, increase, with theirs, her Flames.  
Of all our Navy none should now survive,  
But that the Ships themselves were taught to dive:  
And the kind River in its Creek them hides,  
Fraughting their pierced Keels with Oosy Tides.   

Up to the Bridge contagious Terror struck:  
The Tower itself with the near danger shook.  
And were not Ruyters maw with ravage cloyed,  
Even London's Ashes had been then destroyed.  
Officious fear, however, to prevent  
Our loss, does so much more our loss augment:  
The Dutch had robbed those Jewels of the Crown:  
Our Merchantmen, lest they should burn, we drown.  
So when the Fire did not enough devour,  
The Houses were demolished near the Tower.  
Those Ships, that yearly from their teeming Howl,  
Unloaded here the Birth of either Pole;  
Furs from the North, and Silver from the West,  
From the South Perfumes, Spices from the East;  
From Gamba Gold, and from the Ganges Gems;  
Take a short Voyage underneath the Thames.  
Once a deep River, now with Timber floor'd,  
And shrunk, lest Navigable, to a Ford.   

Now (nothing more at Chatham left to burn)  
The Holland Squadron leisurely return:  
And spite of rupert's and of Albemarles,  
To Ruyter's Triumph lead the captive Charles.  
The pleasing sight he often does prolong:  
Her Masts erect, tough Cordage, Timbers strong,  
Her moving Shape; all these he does survey,  
And all admires, but most his easy Prey.  
The Seamen search her all, within, without:  
Viewing her strength, they yet their Conquest doubt.  
Then with rude shouts, secure, the Air they vex;  
With Gamesome Joy insulting on her Decks.  
Such the feared Hebrew, captive, blinded, shorn,  
Was led about in sport, the public scorn.   

Black Day accursed! On thee let no man hale  
Out of the Port, or dare to hoist a Sail,  
Or row a Boat in thy unlucky hour:  
Thee, the Year's monster, let thy Dam devour.  
And constant Time, to keep his course yet right,  
Fill up thy space with a redoubled Night.  
When aged Thames was bound with Fetters base,  
And Medway chaste ravished before his Face,  
And their dear Offspring murdered in their sight;  
Thou, and thy Fellows, held'st the odious Light.  
Sad change, since first that happy pair was wed,  
When all the Rivers graced their Nuptial Bed;  
And Father Neptune promised to resign  
His Empire old, to their immortal Line!  
Now with vain grief their vainer hopes they rue,  
Themselves dishonoured, and the Gods untrue:  
And to each other helpless couple moan,  
As the sad Tortoise for the Sea does groan.  
But most they for their Darling Charles complain:  
And were it burnt, yet less would be their pain.  
To see that fatal Pledge of Sea-Command,  
Now in the Ravisher De-Ruyter's hand,  
The Thames roared, swooning Medway turned her tide,  
And were they mortal, both for grief had died.   

The Court in Farthing yet itself does please,  
And female S— t, there, Rules the four Seas.  
But Fate does still accumulate our Woes,  
And Richmond here commands, as Ruyter those.   

After this loss, to relish discontent,  
Some one must be accused by Punishment.  
All our miscarriages on Pett must fall:  
His Name alone seems fit to answer all.  
Whose Counsel first did this mad War beget?  
Who all Commands sold through the Navy? Pett.  
Who would not follow when the Dutch were bet?  
Who treated out the time at Bergen? Pett.  
Who the Dutch Fleet with Storms disabled met,  
And rifling Prizes, them neglected? Pett.  
Who with false News prevented the Gazette?  
The Fleet divided? Writ for Rupert? Pett.  
Who all our Seamen cheated of their Debt?  
And all our Prizes who did swallow? Pett.  
Who did advise no Navy out to set?  
And who the Forts left unrepaired? Pett.  
Who to supply with Powder, did forget  
Languard, Sheerness, Gravesend, and upnor? Pett.  
Who all our Ships exposed in Chathams Net?  
Who should it be but the Fanatic Pett.  
Pett, the Sea Architect, in making Ships,  
Was the first cause of all these Naval ships:  
Had he not built, none of these faults had been;  
If no Creation, there had been no Sin.  
But, his great Crime, one Boat away he sent;  
That lost our Fleet, and did our Flight prevent.  
Then that Reward might in its turn take place,  
And march with Punishment in equal pace;  
S— n dead, much of the Treasure`s' care,  
And place in Counsel fell to D— s share.  
All men admired he to that pitch could fly:  
Powder ne'er blew man up so soon so high.  
But sure his late good Husbandry in Peter,  
Showed him to manage the Exchequer meeter:  
And who the Forts would not vouchsafe a corn,  
To lavish the King's Money more would scorn.  
Who hath no Chimneys, to give all is best,  
And ablest Speaker, who of Law has least;  
Who less Estate, for Treasurer most fit;  
And for a Couns'llor, he that has lest Wit.  
But the true cause was, that, in's Brother May,  
The Exchequer might the Privy-purse obey.   

But now draws near the Parliament's return;  
H— e and the Court again begin to mourn.  
Frequent in Counsel, earnest in Debate,  
All Arts they try how to prolong its Date.  
Grave Primate S— n (much in Preaching there)  
Blames the last Session, and this more does fear.  
With B— n or with M— n 'twere sweet;  
But with a Parliament abhors to meet,  
And thinks 'twill ne'er be well within this Nation,  
Till it be governed by a Convocation.  
But in the Thames mouth still Ruyter laid,  
The Peace not sure, new Army must be paid.  
H— e saith he hourly waits for a Dispatch;  
H H —y came Post just as he showed his Watch.  
All to agree the Articles were clear,  
The Holland Fleet and Parliament so near.  
Yet Harry must job back and all mature,  
Binding, ere th' Houses meet, the Treaty sure.  
And 'twixt Necessity and Spite, till then,  
Let them come up so to go down again.  
Up ambles Country Justice on his Pad,  
And Vest bespeaks to be more seemly clad.  
Plain Gentlemen are in Stage-Coach o'erthrown,  
And Deputy-Lieutenants in their own.  
The portly Burgess, through the Wether hot,  
Does for his Corporation sweat and troth.  
And all with Sun and Choler come adust;  
And threatens H— e to raise a greater Dust.   

But, fresh as from the Mint, the Courtiers fine  
Salute them, smiling at their vain design.  
And T— r gay up to his Perch does march,  
With Face new bleacht, smoothened and stiff with starch.  
Tells them he at Whitehall had took a turn,  
And for three days, thence moves them to adjourn.  
Not so, quoth T— s; and strait drew his Tongue,  
Trusty as Steel, that always ready hung;  
And so, proceeding in his motion warm,  
Th'Army soon raised, he doth as soon disarm.  
True Trojan! while this Town can Girls afford,  
And long as Cider lasts in Hereford;  
The Girls shall always kiss thee, though grown old,  
And in eternal Healths thy Name be trowled.   

Mean while the certain News of Peace arrives  
At Court, and so reprieves their guilty Lives.  
H— e orders T— r that he should come late,  
Lest some new T—s spring a fresh debate.  
The King, that day raised early from his rest,  
Expects as at a Play till T— s dressed.  
At last together E— n come and he:  
No Dial more could with the Sun agree.  
The Speaker, Summoned, to the Lords repairs,  
Nor gave the Commons leave to say their Prayers:  
But like his Prisoners to the Bar them led,  
Where mute they stand to hear their Sentence read;  
Trembling with joy and fear, H— e them Prorogues,  
And had almost mistake and called them Rogues.   

Dear Painter, draw this Speaker to the foot:  
Where Pencil cannot, there my Pen shall do't;  
That may his Body, this his Mind explain.  
Paint him in Golden Gown, with Mace's Brain:  
Bright Hair, fair Pace, obscure and dull of Head;  
Like Knife with Ivory haft, and edge of Lead.  
At Prayers, his Eyes turn up the Pious white,  
But all the while his Private-Bill's in sight.  
In Chair, he smoking sits like Master-Cook,  
And a Poll-Bill does like his Apron look.  
Well was he skilled to season any question,  
And make a sauce fit for Whitehall's digestion:  
Whence every day, the palate more to tickle;  
Court-mushrumps ready are sent in in pickle.  
When Grievance urged, he swells like squatted Toad,  
Frisks like a Frog to croak a Taxes load.  
His patient Piss, he could hold longer than  
An Urinal, and sit like any Hen.  
At Table, jolly as a Country-Host,  
And soaks his Sack with N— k like a Toast.  
At night, than Canticleer more brisk and hot,  
And Sergeants Wife serves him for P—tt.  
Paint last the King, and a dead shade of Night,  
Only dispersed by a weak Tapers light;  
And those bright gleams that dart along and glare  
From his clear Eyes, yet these too dark with Care.  
There, as in the calm horror all alone,  
He wakes and Muses of th' uneasy Throne:  
Raise up a sudden Shape with Virgin's Face,  
Though ill agree her Posture, Hour, or Place  
Naked as born, and her round Arms behind,  
With her own Tresses interwove and twined:  
Her mouth locked up, a blind before her Eyes,  
Yet from beneath the Veil her blushes rise;  
And silent tears her secret anguish speak,  
Her heart throbs, and with very shame would break.  
The Object strange in him no Terror moved:  
He wondered first, then pitied, than he loved:  
And with kind hand does the coy Vision press,  
Whose Beauty greater seemed by her distress;  
But soon shrunk back, chilled with her touch so cold,  
And th' airy Picture vanished from his hold.  
In his deep thoughts the wonder did increase,  
And he Divined 'twas England or the Peace.   

Express him startling next with listening ear,  
As one that some unusual noise does hear.  
With Canon, Trumpets, Drums, his door surround,  
But let some other Painter draw the sound:  
Thrice did he rise, thrice the vain Tumult led,  
But again thunders when he lies in Bed;  
His mind secure does the known stroke repeat,  
And finds the Drums Lewis' March did beat.   

Shake then the room, and all his Curtains tear,  
And with blue streaks infect the Taper clear:  
While, the pale Ghosts, his Eye does fixed admire  
Of Grandsire H H —y, and of C— s his Sire.  
H H —y sits down, and in his open side  
The grizly Wound reveals, of which he died.  
And ghastly C— s, turning his Collar low,  
The purple thread about his Neck does show:  
Then, whispering to his Son in Words unheard,  
Through the locked door both of them disappeared.  
The wondrous Night the pensive King revolves,  
And rising, strait on H—'s Disgrace resolves.   

At his first step, he C— n does find,  
B— t and C C —y, as't were designed.  
And they, not knowing, the same thing propose,  
Which his hid mind did in its depths enclose.  
Through their feigned speech their secret hearts he knew;  
To her own Husband, C— n, untrue.  
False to his Master B— l, A— n,  
And C—y, falser than any one,  
Who to the Brother, Brother would betray;  
Nor therefore trusts himself to such as they.  
His Father's Ghost too whispered him one Note,  
That who does cut his Purse will cut his Throat.  
But in wise anger he their Crimes sorbears,  
As Thiefs reprieved for Executioners;  
While H— e provoked his foaming tusk does whet,  
To prove them Traitors, and himself the Pett.   

Painter adieu, how will our Arts agree;  
Poetic Picture, Painted Poetry.  
But this great work is for our Monarch fit,  
And henceforth C— s only to C—s shall sit.  
His Master-hand the Ancients shall outdo:  
Himself the Poet and the Painter too.    

To the KING.  

SO his bold Tube, Man, to the Sun applied,  
And Spots unknown to the bright Star descried;  
Showed they obscure him, while too near they please,  
And seem his Courtiers, are but his disease.  
Through Optic Trunk the Planet seemed to hear,  
And hurls them off, e'er since, in his Career.   

And you, Great Sir, that with him Empire share,  
Sun of our World, as he the Charles is there.  
Blame not the Muse that brought those spots to sight,  
Which, in your Splendour hid, Corrode your Light;  
Kings in the Country oft have gone astray,  
Nor of a Peasant scorned to learn the way.   

Would she the unattended Throne reduce,  
Banishing Love, Trust, Ornament and Use;  
Better it were to live in Cloister's Lock,  
Or in fair Fields to rule the easy Flock.  
She blames them only who the Court restrain,  
And, where all England serves, themselves would reign.   

Bold and accursed are they, that all this while  
Have striven to Isle the Monarch from his Isle:  
And to improve themselves, on false pretence,  
About the Common Prince have raised a Fence;  
The Kingdom from the Crown distinct would see,  
And peal the Bark to burn at last the Tree.  
(But Ceres' Corn, and Flora is the Spring,  
Bacchus is Wine, the Country is the King.)   

Not so does Rust insinuating wear,  
Nor Powder so the vaulted Bastion tear;  
Nor Earthquake so an hollow Isle overwhelm,  
As scratching Courtiers undermine a Realm:  
And through the Palace's Foundations bore,  
Burr'wing themselves to hoard their guilty Store.  
The smallest Vermin make the greatest waste,  
And a poor Warren once a City raised.  
But they whom born to Virtue and to Wealth,  
Whom neither flattery binds, nor want to stealth;  
Whose Conscience and whose Courage high  
With Counsels their large Souls supply;  
That serve the King with their Estates and Care,  
And, as in Love, on Parliaments can stare:  
(Where few the number, choice is there less hard)  
Give us this Court, and rule without a Guard.    

ROCHESTER 's Farewell.  

Tired with the noisome Follies of the Age,  
And weary of my Part, I quit the Stage;  
For who in Life's dull Farce a Part would bear,  
Where Rogues, Whores, Bawds, all the head Actors are?  
Long I with Charitable Malice strove,  
Lashing the Court, those Vermin to remove,  
But thriving Vice under the rod still grew,  
As aged Lechers whipped, their Lust renew;  
What though my Life hath unsuccessful been,  
(For who can this Augean Stable clean)  
My generous end I will pursue in Death,  
And at Mankind rail with my parting breath.  
First, the Tangier Bullies must appear,  
With open Bravery, and dissembled Fear:  
M— e their Head, but Gen'ral have a care,  
Though skilled in all those Arts that cheat the fair,  
The Undiscerning and Impartial Moor,  
Spares not the Lover on the Lady's score.  
Think how many perish by one fatal shot,  
The Conquests all thy Goggling ever got.  
Think then (as I presume you do) how all  
The English Ladies will lament your fall;  
Scarce will there greater Grief pierce every heart,  
Should Sir George H—, or Sir C— depart.  
Had it not better been than thus to roam,  
To stay and play the Cravat-string at home?  
To strut, look big, shake Pantaloon, and swear  
With H—, D—, there's no Action there.  
Hadst thou no friend that would to R— write,  
To hinder this thy eagerness to fight?  
That without danger thou a Brave mightst be,  
As sure to be denied as S— y.  
This sure the Ladies had not failed to do,  
But who such Courage could suspect in you?  
For say, what Reason could with you prevail,  
To change Embroidered Coat for Coat of Mail?  
Let P—h, or let M— t go, whom Fate  
Has made not Valiant, but desperate.  
For who could not be weary of his Life,  
Who's lost his Money, or has got a Wife?  
To the more tolerable Alcaid of Alcazzer,  
One flies from Creditors, the other from Torrezer;  
'Twere Cruelty to make so sharp Remarks,  
On all the little, forward, fight Sparks;  
Only Poor C— I can't but pity thee,  
When all the pert young Volunteers I see.  
Those Chits of War, who as much mirth create  
As the Pair Royal of the Chits of State,  
Their Names shall equal all excelling Glory,  
Chit S— d, Chit G—n, and Chit L— y.  
When thou lettest P—h, 'twas such a Jest,  
As when the Brother made the same request;  
Had R— d but got leave as well as he,  
The Jest had been complete and worthy thee.  
Well, since he must, he'll to Tangier advance  
It is resolved, but first let's have a Dance.  
First, at her Highness' Ball he must appear,  
And in a parting Country Dance, learn there  
With Drum and Fife to make a Jig of War;  
What is of Soldier seen in all the heap,  
Besides the fluttering Feather in the Cap,  
The Scarf, and Yard or two of Scarlet Cloth,  
From Gen'ral M— e down to little W— h?  
There leave we them, and back to England come,  
Whereby the Wiser Sparks that stay at home,  
In safe Ideas by their fancy formed,  
Tangier (like Mastrich) is at Windsor Stormed.  
But now we talk of Mastrich, where is he,  
Famed for that brutal piece of Bravery?  
He with his thick Impenetrable Skull,  
The solid, hardened Armour of a Fool?  
Well might himself to all Wars ills expose,  
Who (come what will yet) had no Brains to lose.  
Yet this is he, the dull unthinking he,  
Who must (forsooth) our future Monarch be.  
This Fool by Fools (A— g and V— n) led,  
Dreams that a Crown will drop upon his Head,  
By great example he this Path doth tread,  
Following such senseless Asses up and down,  
(For Saul sought Asses when he found a Crown.)  
But R—s is risen as Samuel at his call,  
To tell that God hath left the ambitious Saul.  
Never (says Heaven) shall the blushing Sun,  
See P—s Bastard fill the Regal Throne.  
So Heaven says, but B— n says he shall,  
But who e'er he protects is sure to fall.  
Who can more certain of Destruction be,  
Than he that trufts to such a Rogue as he?  
What good can come from him who Y— k forsook,  
T'espouse the Interest of this Booby Duke?  
But who the best of Masters could desert,  
Is the the most fit to take a Traitor's part.  
Ungrateful! This thy Masterpiece of sin,  
Exceeds even that with which thou didst begin.  
Thou great Proficient in the Trade of Hell,  
Whose latter Crimes still do thy first excel:  
The very top of Villainy we seize,  
By steps in order, and by just degrees.  
None e'er was perfect Villain in one day,  
The murdered Boy to Treason led the way;  
But when degrees of Villainy we Name,  
How can we choose but think on B—m?  
He who through all of them hath boldly ran,  
Left ne'er a Law unbroke by God or Man.  
His treasured sins of Supererrogation,  
Swell to a sum enough to damn a Nation:  
But he must here, per force, be let alone,  
His acts require a Volumn of their own:  
Where ranked in dreadful order shall appear,  
All his Exploits from S S —y to Le M—.  
But stay, methinks I on a sudden find,  
My Pen to treat of th'other Sex inclined;  
But where in all this choice shall I begin?  
Where, but with the renowned M— e?  
For all the Bawds the Courts rank Soil doth bear,  
And Bawds and Statesmen grow in plenty there.  
To thee submit and yield, should we be Just,  
To thy experienced and well-travelled Lust:  
Thy well-known Merits claim that thou shouldst be,  
First in the Glorious Roll of Infamy.  
To thee they all give place, and Homage pay,  
Do all thy Lecherous Decrees obey;  
(Thou Queen of Lust, thy Bawdy Subjects they.)  
While S— x, B—ll, Betty F— n come,  
Thy Whores of Honour, to attend thy Throne;  
For what proud Strumpet e'er could merit more,  
Than be Anointed the Imperial Whore?  
For tell me, in all Europe, where's the part,  
That is not Conscious of thy Lewd desert.  
The great Pedalian Youth, whose Conquests run  
O'er all the World, and Travalled with the Sun,  
Made not his Valour in more Nations known.  
Than thou thy Lust, thy matchless Lust have shown,  
All Climes, all Countries, do with Tribute come,  
(Thou World of Lewdness) to thy boundless Womb:  
Thou Sea of Lust, that never ebb dost know,  
Whither the Ruins of all Nations flow.  
Lewd Messalina was but a Type of thee,  
Thou highest, last degree of Lechery:  
For in all Ages, except her and you,  
Who ever sinned so high, and stooped so low.  
She to th' Imperial Bed each Night did use,  
To bring the stink of the Exhausted Stews;  
Tired (but not satisfied) with man did come,  
Drunk with abundant Lust, and reeling home.  
But thou, to our admiring Age, dost show  
More sin than innocent Rome did ever know;  
And having all her Lewdnesses outran,  
Takes up with Devil, having tired man:  
For what is else that loathsome uggly Black.  
Which you and S— x in your Arms do take?  
Nor does Old Age, which now rides on so fast,  
Make thee come short of all thy Lewdness past:  
Though on thy Head, Grey-hairs like Aetna's Snow  
Are shed, thou'rt Fire and Brimstone all below.  
Thou monstrous thing, in whom at once does rage  
The flames of Youth, and Impotence of Age.  
My Lady D— s takes the second place,  
Proud with thy favour, and peculiar grace;  
E'en she with all her Piety and Zeal,  
The hotter flames that burn in thee does feel.  
Thou dost into her kindling breast inspire,  
The Lustful seeds of thy Contagious fire;  
So well the Spirit and the Flesh agree,  
Lust and Devotion, Zeal and Lechery.  
Important use Religion's made,  
By those who wisely drive the Cheating Trade;  
As Wines Prohibited securely pass,  
Changing the Name of their own Native place.  
So Vice grows safe, dressed in Devotions Name,  
Unquestioned by the Custom-house of Fame:  
Where e'er so much of Sanctity you see,  
Be more suspicious of hid Villainy;  
Whoseever Zeal is than his Neighbours more,  
If man think he's a Rogue, if Woman Whore:  
And such a thing art thou Religious Pride,  
So very Lewd, and yet so Sanctified.  
Let now the D— s take no further care  
Of humorous Stallions, let her not despair,  
Since her Indulgent Stars so kind have been,  
To send her B —y and M— e,  
This last doth banished M—s Place supply,  
And Wit supplanted is by Lecher  
For M—h he had Parts, and Wit, and Sense,  
To all which M— e had no pretence;  
A proof that since such things as he prevail,  
Her H— s Head is lighter than her Tail.  
But stay, I P—h almost had forgot,  
The common Theme of every Rhyming Sot;  
She'll after railing make us laugh a while,  
For at her Folly who can choose but smile?  
While them who always slight her great she makes,  
And so much pains to be despised she takes.  
Goes sauntring with her Highness up to Town,  
To an Old Play, and in the Dark come down;  
Still makes her Court to her as to the Queen,  
But still is Justled out by M— e.  
So much more Worthy a kind Bawd is thought,  
Than ever she who her from Exile brought.  
O P—h, foolish P—h! Not to take  
The offer the great S— d did make,  
When Cringing at thy Feet; e'er M—h bowed,  
The Golden Calf, that's Worshipped by the Crowd.  
But thou for Y— k, who now despises thee,  
To leave both him and Powerful S— v:  
If this is all the Policy you know,  
This all the skill in States you boast of so,  
How wisely did thy Country's Laws ordain,  
Never to let the foolish Women Reign.  
But what must we expect, who daily see  
Unthinking C— s Ruled by Unthinking thee.   
FINIS.