England's murdering Monsters Set out in their Colours. In a DIALOGUE between democritus and heracclitus.  
Weeping Heracclitus laments to see  
Jack-Anabaptist in such state to be.  
Democritus hopes before the Month of June,  
That the Birds will sing another Tune.  Heracclitus. 

O That mine Eyes were a continual River  
Of briny tears, that I might weep for ever,  
To see the Woes that Mortals do attend  
For Sin, yet men will not their Lives amend.   Democritus. 

I laugh to see so many men grow mad,  
(Like fools) to lose what Liberty they had  
By seeking more; and for believing lies,  
Are come in Bondage to their Enemies.   Herac. 

Alas! I grieve to see that woes of Albion,  
(Once happy Seat of Learning and Religion)  
Now (sad) become the Stage of villainy,  
Of Vice, the Mother, under Tyranny.   Dem. 

I nothing view upon the Stage of Albion,  
At present, but a Chaos of Confusion,  
Where hell-spurred Pluto in a godly guise,  
Doth play Guvanto 'gainst the christmas-pies.   Herac. 

I much lament to see his oily-head  
(Whose Hand th' Almighty treble Sceptered)  
Upon a Block of Impudence most great,  
And wilful murdered near his sacred Seat.   Dem. 

It's not a sport to see the ignoble Groom  
Swording and swaggering in his sovereign room,  
And when he please to speak but half a word,  
He must reply him with an, Yes my Lord.   Herac. 

I melt in tears to see the Rebels reign  
In Court and City with their hungry train,  
That like Purse-Leeches in the lawyer's Inn,  
Sucks others Wealth, to enrich their begging Kin.   Dem. 

Who can but laugh to see the cobbling Clown  
(And dirty Dray-man) in a Scarlet-Gown  
Lord it along? Sure 'tis a wondrous Fate  
To see such Monsters in a Robe of State.   Herac. 

O 'tis a grief to see that wicked wealed  
The Sword and sceptre that so long upheld  
Justice and Truth; but now profound, profane  
Hypocrisy, with Schism and Error reign.   Dem. 

I burst almost with laughter when I view  
So many Polips in an humble hue,  
Yet under hand, with a stock of Impudence,  
Strive for the Title of, His Excellence.   Herac. 

O, who can see the People by rebellion  
Destroy the Fountain of well-ordered Union,  
And their allegiance basely basterdize  
To those that over them doth tyrannize.   Dem. 

I laugh to see how Fortune (wrong or right)  
Doth (Blindfold) make of any Knave, a Knight;  
Disthrones a Monarch by unheard of Fate,  
And lifts a Lobster to a Chair of State.   Herac. 

O! canst thou laugh to see the Martial Sword  
(At pleasure) make of any Lout a Lord,  
And such as are willing to be their constant slaves,  
Are forced to suffer for cowardly Knaves.   Dem. 

Weep if you list, and I will laugh it out,  
To see blind Fortune throw the Ball about;  
One while a Villain she doth inthronise,  
And with a worse doth him anon chastise.   Herac. 

I can but weep to see the once famous City  
Slaved to the will of an Unsafe committee;  
Threatened with throws of furious Fire-balls,  
And many murdered then within our Walls.   Dem. 

I cannot well their woeful case bemoan,  
That factious slaves do for their Rulers own,  
Who strongly strive for to destroy the State,  
And make all men believe that they do plunder hate.   Her. 

Woe to the Land where that the tyrant's stores,  
That Parliaments and Peers they turn out of doors,  
And then restore, to gratify ambition  
The rump thereof, in spite of all the Nation.   D●m. 

I laugh to see so many swaying swords  
Swear that for zeal they hate a House of Lords:  
When Quaking cobblers but with half their eyes,  
They hope thereby to rule and revelize.   Her. 

Pure zeal for peace, for freedom, and Religion,  
Is made a cloak to cover damned invention:  
And still the more I weep to see their folly,  
That hold such lewdness to be very holy.   Dem. 

Lament no more, Heraclitus, to see  
The lousy Lobsters in such state to be,  
Murdering like monsters such as them oppose,  
For to maintain their Bastard Good Old Cause.   Her. 

The Cause was good, had they their Oaths performed,  
But fickle faction hath it so deformed,  
Now vice is crept into our once happy Land,  
But yet we hope it hath not long to stand.   Dem. 

'Tis a sport to see the City be a bawd,  
To any Tyrant, and his train applaud:  
And some therein are so faintheart and evil,  
To save estates they will adore the Devil.   Her. 

Still more I grieve to see the Church despised  
By Sacrilegers, that new ways devised  
For their will-worship; and far past all awe  
Profane, presume to jeer the sacred Law.   Dem. 

And more I laugh to hear Mr. Mend-all  
Tinker and Tailot, Mr. Spare and Spend-all  
Think they can preach profound as any Doctor  
With their new logic, and exceed the Proctor.   Her. 

What Clime, what Time, what Age, what Nation,  
What grave Historian worthy reputation,  
Did ever note before these days of mine,  
So many wresters of the law Divine.   Dem. 

I laugh to see such as with solemn Vows  
Pluralities of Churches disallows;  
Be priests, be prophets, be both Judge and jailers,  
And for large stealing do exceed the tailors.   Her. 

I much bemoan to see the crimson hands  
That slew their neighbours, ther'by to gain their Lands,  
Be Knaves, be Keepers, be High Chancellors,  
Be Clerks, be Truck-men, and be Treasurers.   Dem. 

'Tis better for thee to preserve thine eyes,  
And lament not our sad calamities:  
'tis vain to weep for such as haste to hell,  
And so my friend Heraclitus farewell.   
G. P.