The Whigg's Defeat: OR, The Mystery of Iniquity laid open.  
Being a pleasant New Song by way of Dialogue, between WHIG and TORY.  
The Tune is, A Fig for France.  Tory. 

NOw now you sneaking Whigs 'tis plain,  
your wickedness is brought to light,  
And all your Projects are in vain,  
Even maugre all your Factious spite:  
Although that you hate Loyalty,  
we still to serve our King are bend,  
And with one mind we all will strive,  
your Whiggish mischief to prevent.   Whigg. 

Nay Tory, not so rash I pray,  
against the Brethren, for you know,  
There was a time you durst not say,  
what in our teeth you're pleased to throw  
When all the Game went on our side,  
when we were styled the only Men,  
And 'twas but getting up and Ride,  
alas! where were you Tories then?   Tory. 

You did Rebel against a Prince,  
more Great & Just the world ne'er knew  
To Murder and Rob Innocence,  
and all in Blood three Nations brew▪  
This was the Cursed Good Old Cause,  
to pull down Monarchy and Laws;  
And now you squint upon the Fate,  
and would be acting Fortyeight.   Whigg. 

'Twas Popery we did detest,  
to root that out was all our aim,  
Though some Men farther went at last,  
for which we did them greatly blame:  
A Reformation 'twas we sought,  
but prithee tell me once again,  
When we on Cock-a-Hoop had got,  
where were you Blustering Tories then?   Tory. 

We held out Loyal to the last,  
nor did we flinch for any fear;  
Our Lives and Fortunes we did waste,  
under the Name of Cavalier:  
Until by your cursed Villainy,  
the best of Kings to slaughter went,  
And now we with one voice do cry,  
such Whiggsh mischief to prevent.   Whigg. 

But Tory that is now forgot,  
we since have proved us honest men,  
Which may wipe off that fatal Blot,  
which so the Good Old Cause did slain:  
You know we Loyalty express,  
resist the Whore of Babylon,  
But O could we our wish possess,  
alack for you poor Tories then.   Tory. 

That Crime's forgot, and are you grown  
so Loyal Whigg, as now you say?  
Has not your Loyalty been shown  
of late, The c●ean Contrary way?  
In your Cabals don't you inveigh,  
against the best of Government,  
Make sour faces, and oft pray,  
for Forty-One's Rump-Parliament?   

That you might Plunder honest Men,  
Ravish and Murder without Let,  
That Cobblers might be Lords again,  
and Britain's Glory once more set:  
To crush the neck of Loyalty;  
but Heaven does frustrate their intent,  
Long live the King is all o●r cry,  
no Forty-One Rump-Parliament.   Whigg. 

Well, now I see 'tis plain that you,  
do to the Scarlet Beast belong,  
And seek the Godly to undo,  
by numbering up your former wrong:  
Woe's we, poor Whiggs, I see it plain,  
we strive but now against the Stream,  
But if we ere get up again,  
woe to each Blustering Tory then.   Tory. 

Whigg, England is at last grown wise,  
your Villainies are open laid,  
And all your vile Hypocrisies,  
in their own Colours are displayed,  
No Cheat for Publique-Faith Money,  
can you impose, could you invent:  
God bless the King is all our cry,  
and hang up Whiggish Government.    

Printed for P. Brooksby, near the Hospital-gate, in West-smithfield.