Mercurius Britanicus HIS Welcome to Hell: with the devil's Blessing TO BRITANICUS.  
I Joy to think, what bonfires shall be made,  
When thou shalt come, (great Master of our Trade)  
Thou hast out-libelled libelers, and reviled  
Beyond Revilers, hath thy pen compiled.  
To thee, what was th'Oxonian Aulicus,  
Or Grand Mercurius Gallo-Belgicus.  
Moderate Intelligence, or Civicus,  
Perfect diurnal, or Hibernicus,  
Kingdom's Intelligence, or Rusticus,  
Weekly Account, Scotch-Dove, or Coelicus,  
Perfect Occurrence, or Aquaticus,  
The London Post, or sweet Candidius,  
Amongst all these (Dear Son Britanicus)  
Th''ve showed thyself the best Mercurius.  
Thou hast out-slandered slander, and prevailed,  
And every railing rogue thou hast out-railed.  
Thou bravely didst thy sovereign vilify,  
Pursudest his Honour with an Hue and Cry;  
Abused the Queen with scandals, and the peers.  
And set three kingdoms weekly by the ears:  
Which we accept, as services well done  
To us, our reign, and our infernal Throne.  
What though at small esteem the people rate thee,  
And that God and all good men justly hate thee.  
Fear not, though heaven and earth doth thee expel,  
Come to me, thou shalt welcome be in hell:  
For thy great merits and most excellent parts,  
we'll entertain thee, fitting thy deserts.  
Our brazen gates shall be set open for thee,  
And churlish Cerberus shall refuse his fee.  
His doglike hanging ears for joy he'll shake,  
His three heads bow obedient for thy sake;  
And, for thou art of his old race and kin,  
His whole six rows of horselike teeth shall grin;  
His lolling lips shall smoothly smile and simper,  
And ('stead of grumbling) shall but whine & whimper.  
His warped ill-favoured faces, beards all knotted,  
To be new-trimed when thou com'st, are allotted.  
He shall not dare to snarl, bark, or look grim,  
But welcome thee that hast out-bawled him.  
Thus, when th''ve past the Porter (Cerberus)  
Then shalt thou see stone-rowling Sisyphus,  
And the tormented pining Tantalus,  
Thiefe-filching heavenly fire Prometheus  
(And therefore bound to frozen Caucasus)  
The Gripe, that gnaws the guts of Titius,  
And all the furies in Black Erebus,  
Shall make a playday for Britanicus.  
And Danaus' nine and forty daughters shall  
Leave their vain labouring, and sing uptails all;  
Their Tubs shall Pulpits make, for men well able  
To preach our Doctrine in a barn or stable.  
Thus when thy soul shall enter into hell,  
It shall be welcomed with an hideous yell.  
We shall prepare such music for thine ear,  
As that which pleased Caligula to hear:  
He took delight to hear the parting groans  
Of tortured wretches, and would praise their tones:  
And all hell's instruments with noise shall fill us,  
Sweet as the Brazen Bull made by Perrillus.  
The inner rooms shall all perfumed be  
With Hemlock, Henbane, Sulphur, Mercury,  
Rare Arsafetita, or any thing  
That unto thee (my son) content may bring:  
The scent of these sweet Simples I'll presume  
Not Spain or Rome hath any such perfume.  
Of sodom's apples we will lambswool make,  
And drink carouses of the Stygian Lake:  
And, for that thou art full of spleen and hate,  
We make thee Secretary of our State.  
Cain and Iscariot, we'll to thee prefer,  
The one thy Usher, th'other Treasurer.  
Thou still shalt be my special favourite,  
I'll make thee heir of everlasting night:  
Honours on honours on thee I will heap,  
And as thou sow'dst for me, so shalt thou reap;  
Gomorahs' grapes shall yield thee precious wine,  
And Jesabell shall be thy Concubine.  
Megaera, Allecto, and Tisiphone,  
Shall all in flaming robes of tiffany  
Attend on thee, and dance like wanton rugs,  
Corantoes horne-pipes, and fine Northern jigs.  
This must thy garnish and first welcome be,  
And all our Legions shall attend on thee;  
Yet further shall our favour be expressed,  
We will prepare for thee a sumptuous feast,  
Nero, Vitelius, Sardanapalus,  
Milo, and famous Heliogabalus,  
The bacchanals, feasts of Olimpicus,  
Thou shalt out-feast them all, (Britannicus)  
For we will plunder earth, and air, and seas,  
To find rare things that may thy palate please:  
The great Leviathan shall lie in pickle,  
Soused in the sweat of many a Conventicle;  
And oil for salads, dropped from thousand twists  
Of male and female, zealous Familists:  
Thy brawn our purveyors carefully provides  
Two Amsterdamnable Lay-Preachers sides,  
Such as are pure Religions pure Rejecters,  
Such as can stand out four or five hours' Lectures.  
These are my chaplains, these are truths Infecters,  
These cough, and spit, and spawle infernal Nectars:  
These are the spirits which madmen's brains inspire,  
These blow the bellows of contentious fire:  
These (with the visards of devout intents)  
Molest Church, Kings, Kingdoms and Parliaments.  
These are my clergy, who with zeal intrude  
Into th'opinions of the multitude;  
These make'em leave the crystal stream for puddles,  
And these send cheated souls to hell by huddles.  
My chaplains know no laws ecclesiastic,  
But they can broach opinions mad, fantastic;  
Such as from learned schools had never calling,  
Yet have strong gifts of windy caterwauling;  
Who with devotions' cloak, gull men most purely,  
Whose truly's false, whose surely is a sure lie:  
And were it not for such, I know right well.  
We should want many souls which are in hell.  
For which collared (like brawn) their sides shall be  
Well boiled in Jesuits piss, and soused for thee:  
With Aqua fortis we will grind thy mustard,  
And of Hiennaes' milk, we'll make thy custard  
Of th'egs of Asps, O 'tis a precious dish,  
And (for the taste) it doth exceed man's wish.  
Flap-dragons we will drink instead of wine,  
For with our brawn, we should drink Muskadine;  
The which shall be (from several minerals drawn)  
By cunning chemists to digest thy brawn:  
Which with our fiery breaths to flames we'll turn,  
And (like a furnace) in our maws shall burn.  
Four Antinomians chines cut out at large,  
In Phlegeton well roast, we give in charge  
Six atheists haunches baked, ten well-grown spare-ribs  
Of Libertines, which we will all make bare ribs.  
An Oleao we must have, (a dish of state)  
A Spanish dish, ne'er heard of till of late;  
Th'Abortives of six wanton sisters wombs,  
In their own liquour stewed with Stygian plumbs.  
Twelve Seekers ears (grown of the largest size)  
Minced with the marrow of a lecher's thighs.  
Two dozen of pious preaching sisters tongues,  
As many woodcocks' heads, two foxes lungs;  
Who eats this Oleao cannot choose but find  
A strange increase of brain, and length of wind:  
Twelve Rascals gammons (who will have no King)  
Smoked, black as jet, we to thy board will bring.  
For the Westphalians learned that art of me,  
I was the first that taught that cookery.  
My costly Haggost, I remember not,  
Which is a dish that must not be forgot:  
Six Anabaptiss hearts with garlic stuck,  
Two Jesuits brains, a sincere Brownists pluck  
Boiled in a traitor's skull with sublimate,  
This Haggost hath empoisoned many a State.  
We (for our fruit) will of those apples have  
Which Eve (thy mother) unto Adam gave:  
(For our delights and pleasures all were hidden,  
If we presume not to do things forbidden.)  
Then from the West Peru, and th'eastern China  
we'll have Tobacco, rare and right Varina;  
For 'twere a shame to us it should be spoke,  
That we should keep a colefire without smoke.  
Thus shalt thou no good entertainment lack,  
And brave Guy Faux with famous Ravilliack  
Shall wait on thee from board unto thy bed,  
And each of them shall be thy Ganymede.  
Yet all thy cheer I have not named, by half,  
I will give order to kill Waltham's calf;  
'Tis a most curious dish, his head and brains  
Will fill thee full of raptures, and high strains:  
We will have Tanzeyes made with herbs and spices  
Of Mandrake, and the eggs of Cockatrices.  
Then to conclude, we will drink healths around,  
Which shall in loyal royal blood be crowned:  
And we'll have shoinghornes to draw down drink  
Beyond salt Herrins, or th' Westphalian skink;  
As drunk as devils, we my boy will be,  
we'll quaff whole bolls of molten lead to thee,  
Then shalt thou see what honour shall be done  
To thee, whom I adopt my dearest son.  

THE devil's Blessing TO BRITANICUS.  
Hell's blessing on thee my blasphemous son,  
Thou hast thy brother Rabsheka outdone;  
Shimei's a very fool compared to thee,  
Thou (every week) writ'st higher blasphemy:  
Korah's gainsaying if compared to thine  
Was petty-Treason, thou in every line  
Out-viest all these, thou bravely plaidest thy part,  
And in our service showd'st a loyal heart.  
All I can promise is, when thou shalt come,  
Thou shalt be glorious for thy martyrdom;  
Nay, thou shalt set thy house in order too,  
And in thy death Achitophel outdo;  
Thou fill'dst with mischiefs many thousand pates,  
Thou mad'st a hundred thousand Reprobates:  
Thou taught'st the people better to blaspheme,  
I furnished thee, with every strain and stream  
Of villainy; which thou didst so improve,  
That thou for ever hast deserved my love.  
And therefore, in thy death thou shalt excel  
That great grave councillor Achitophel,  
And all the rest of such as lived before,  
Since thou for us (Dear son) hast done much more.  
Vicisti Gallilea, thou shalt cry,  
As Julian did, and cast thy blood on high;  
Or thou shalt die like Arrius, who withstood  
The Nazarite, voiding both guts and blood.  
In the mean space remember me to all  
My friends particular, and general:  
To Henry Walker I bear much affection,  
he's red-haired, of Iscariot's right complexion;  
Like Sheba, Bichri's son, he did rebel,  
And cried out to your tents, O Israel.  
He was an Ironmonger at first, and then  
He turned Bookseller, after that his pen  
Libelled against the King, and did encroach  
So near him, that he threw't into his Coach.  
For which he should have gone to th' Triple-Tree,  
But pity, and the Kings high clemency  
Wrote to the Parliament, that they should spare him,  
Whose power, unto the pillory did rear him.  
Since when (to show his humble thanks the more)  
Reviles the King worse than he did before.  
Writes weekly news, and lies egregiously,  
And oftentimes doth preach most grievously;  
For which I will prefer him unto thee,  
When thou com'st, he shall then thy Chaplain be.  
He shall thy solemn funeral Sermon preach,  
My spirit shall instruct him how to teach,  
And he shall write in mournful Elegies,  
In sad memorial of thy Obsequies.  
Then my sons (Sectaries) with their zealous lasses,  
And all the learned Mercurius Owly-Glasses,  
Shall (with great grief) be in a sad quandary,  
And mourn in Claret burnt, and sweet canary;  
Then will we have for thee an Epitaph,  
Which who e'er reads, perhaps 'twill make him laugh.   

Epitaph.  
HEre lies Britannicus, Hell's barking cur,  
That son of Belial, who kept damned stir;  
And every Monday spent his stock of spleen,  
In venomous railing on the King and Queen.  
Who, though they both in goodness may forgive him,  
Yet (for his safety) we'll in hell riceive him.   
FINIS.   

Printed in the year, 1647.