ADVICE To a Wavering FRIEND.  

THough 'twere a Sin to doubt a Righteous Cause,  
Supported by what all but Rebels awes,  
A Peaceful Prince, and Uncorrupted Laws;   

Yet since some Sons of Darkness dare invade  
It, with what Subtle Arts hath specious made,  
Pretended Zeal dressed up in Masquerade;   

'Tis but an Act of Goodness to advise  
All that their own, or Country's Safety prize,  
To shun the Fiend, though in the Saint's disguise,   

You are too young more than by Rumour to  
Know, what their Bloody Ancestors did do,  
When they their Sovereign to a Scaffold drew;   

But those that saw those Dismal Times can tell,  
Their Actions then and now run Parallel;  
If different, these in Villainy excel.   

Those Sandy Props of State, the Common Rout,  
Were then, as they are now, hurried about  
With Fears and Fancies till the Flame burst out.   

They then, as now, unjustly did complain  
Of Popish Prelates, Arbitrary Reign,  
And all that might the Royal Ermines slain.   

But here our Modern great Projectors have  
Got some Advantage; here's a Plot to save  
The Presbyter from being th' only Knave.   

A Real Plot, by Subtle Jesuits drew,  
Whose Ruin Faction but pretended to,  
Whilst they erected One more strange and new.   

Here the White Devil puts on Innocence,  
Makes Zeal and Loyalty the false Pretence,  
As his Friend's Ruin were the King's Defence.   

The Popish Lords with Caution lain aside,  
As if their twisted Interest would divide,  
Should they before more Loyal Men be tried.   

Those Sons o'th' Earth they brought (the Devil knows whence)  
To be the King's Undoubted Evidence,  
Will swear to what they say in either sense.   

For though the Blinded People will not see  
What 'tis they drive at, there's no Good Man free  
From Danger, where the Crime is Loyalty.   

There is no Means their Sovereign to annoy,  
Nor Bishops Lands again to re-enjoy,  
Lest His Great Council do His Good destroy;   

Impeach His Loyal Lords, Bishops suspend,  
And ruin him that to the Crown's a Friend,  
And then Rebellion hath its wished-for End.   

They they'll discover what is now th'Intent,  
That a Damned Faction only strives to rend  
Religion's Veil, and Civil Government:   

A Private Stab which brings Authority  
From Rome's dark Conclave of no use will be,  
When the King's made His Kingdom's Enemy.   

When the Deluded Rout Their Own they have,  
Let Him but Grant what they are bold to Crave,  
They'll Lop that Head, they now pretend to Save.   

The Zealous Veil they'll then cast off, and in  
Their Native Colours to the World be seen,  
As Black without, as they are now within.   

What now you're flattered to, you then will hate;  
Perhaps turn Convert, but 'twill be too late:  
You may repent; but not retrieve your Fate.   

Return in time then, and forsake that Way,  
Which these False Guides direct thee to, whilst they  
Their King, their Country, and the Church betray.   

When Black Rebellion bursts into a Flame,  
And Treason's known by 'tis own Prodigious Name,  
Though pale with Sorrow, than you'll blush for Shame.   

Blush that thy easy Faith did e'er consent  
To favour Those that Ruin Government:  
Be wise in time then, and the Ill prevent.   
FINIS.