A DIALOGUE Between the Ghosts of the Two last Parliaments, at their late Interview. — Fuimus Troes.— Nitimur in vetitum.— Westminster Ghosts Advice. FRom deepest Dungeons of Eternal Night, The seats of Horror, Sorrow, Pains & spite, I have been sent to tell your tender Youth 〈◊〉 ●sonable and Important Truth! 〈…〉, (but Oh too late,) that no Disease 〈…〉 a Surfeit of Luxurious Ease, 〈◊〉 of all other, the most tempting things, 〈◊〉 too much Wealth, and too Indulgent Kings. 〈◊〉 ever was superlatively ill, 〈◊〉 by Degrees, with Industry and Skill: 〈◊〉 some, whose Meaning hath at first been fair, ●ow Knaves by Use, and Rebels by Despair. 〈◊〉 time is past, and Yours will soon begin, Keep the first Blossoms from the blast of Sin; And by the Fate of my Tumultuous ways, Preserve yourself, and bring serener Days. The busy subtle Serpents of the Law, Did first my Mind from true Obedience draw; While I did Limits to the King prescribe, And took for Oracles that Canting Tribe, 〈◊〉 changed True Freedom for the Name of Free, And grew Seditious for Variety; All that opposed me were to be accused; And, by the Law I Legally abused. The Robe was summoned, M— d in the head, 〈◊〉 Legal Murder none so deeply read: 〈◊〉 brought him to the Bar, where once he stood, Stained with (the yet un expiated) Blood Of the Brave Strafford, when 3 Kingdoms rung With his accumulative Hackney Tongue; Prisoners, and Witnesses were waiting by, These had been taught to Swear, and those to die, And to expect Their Arbitrary Fates, Some for ill ●●es, some for good Estates: 〈◊〉 ●ght the People, and Alarm the Town, B— and O— employed the Reverend Gown. But while the Triple Mitre bore the blame, The Kings 3 Crowns were their Rebellious aim: I seemed, (and did but seem) to fear the Guards, And took for mine the B— and the W— Antimonarchick Heretics of Sat, Immoral Atheists, Rich, and Reprobate: But above all, I got a little Guide, Who every Foard of Villainy had tried; None knew so well the old Pernicious way To Ruin Subjects, and make Kings obey; And my small Jehu at a Furious Rate, Was driving Eighty back to Forty Eight. This the King knew, and was Resolved to bear, But I mistook his Patience for his Fear: All that this happy Island could afford, Was Sacrificed to my Voluptuous Board. In his whole Paradise one only Tree He had excepted by a strict Degree; A Sacred Tree which Royal Fruit did bear, Ye It in pieces I Conspired to tear; Beware my Child! Divinity is there. T●is so outdid all I had done before, I ●ould attempt, and He endure no more. My Unprepared and Un-repenting breath, W●s snatched away by the swift Hand of Death, A●d I (with all my Sins about me) hurled, To th' utter Darkness of the lower World; A dreadful place which you too soon will see, If You believe Seducers more than Me. Oxford Ghost. HAil great prophetic Spirit who could see Through the dark Glass of ripening time, what we Too true have found, and now too late complain, That thou Great Spirit shouldst foretell in vain: Full well and faithfully didst thou advise, Had we been modestly and timely wise: Free may you range, saidst thou, through every Field, And what else more luxurious Gardens yield Is thine; what e'er may please, what delight The weakest Stomach, nicest Appetite. Of all the plenty of so vast a Store One thing forbidden is, one, and no more: By late and sad experience of what's past Probatum est, ipse dixit; Do not taste! Swift Ruine's there, and sure Destruction, How great a truth, had it in time been known. Westm. Ghost. Vain empty Nothing, that wert lately All, How just, and how unpitied is thy Fall: Well worthy of the horrors of this place, That would no warning take by my Disgrace; Glutted with plenty, surfeited with Peace, Weary of Blessings, sick of too much Ease: ●ad restless Troublers of our Israel, Who would not quiet be when things went well; Of secret base Designs mere managed Tools, Rash, unadvised, incorrigible F— Brisk Hotspurs, inconsiderately bold, By much too violent, and too hot to hold. Zeal flew as if't had been to run a Race, Duty and Reason could not keep it pace: Insensible, regardless of my Fate; Dull Phrygian Sages, wise when 'tis too late; You lived, and then you had an easy way T'have provided against the Evil Day, Who would not then be timely wise, for bear Your vain unreasonable Sorrows here. Frailty (for men are frail) may err one time, But Malice only can repeat the Crime. Unthinking Senate, fed with empty words Of Patriot Lawyers and Protesting Lords: Abused by Popular and mistaken Friends; Sued a dull Property for base hidden Ends. Liberty, Property and Religion, Sweet Names, and so is REFORMATION. Rank sign of sickly and distempered Times, When fairest Names disguise the foulest Crimes. The cry of Liberty helpeth Ambition, And straight laced Conscience chokes Religion: Of public Interest you had not concern; But damned a Proverb, Ne'er too late to learn. By no experience taught, miscarriage tamed, Nor by sad instance of my Fate reclaimed, What prejudice and private use ill used False Zeal and like Religion ill excused: Who (stiffnecked) rather would my Fate repeat, Than by new measures be securely great: No freedom of debate was left for you, When all was moved and managed by a few. Your leading M— I— and W— As if all Wisdom were in them alone: A House of Commons crumbled into Three; Slaves in effect, and in appearance Free, What ailed the Pilot, slept he at the head? Or was your Judgement by your Wills misled? What evil Spirit's Influence did prevail, That you who might at large securely Sail in a full Sea, and from all Danger free, Would run upon that Shelf that ruin'd me? These sure and sad effects I well foresaw; These real ills, which seeming good would draw; From these sad Consequences to dissuade, I was sent forth, and gladly I obeyed: I told you then what now too true you find, Where Zeal flies out, and Duty leaves behind: 'Tis Wisdoms shame, and Policies defect, For still like Causes will have like Effect. I sought by wondrous Truth the Point to gain, Urged many reasons, but urged all in vain: None were of force against the Good Old Cause. Counsel was thrown away, Fool that I was. Where men with Law and Prophets would not live, To think a Message from the dead should thrive. Spite of my foresight and my dear bought skill, Cassandra I; you faithless Pans are still. Your boundless Passion did no measures keep, Well might you break your Neck with such a leap: Men may at distance hover about Kings, And by your influence move earthly things; But when those bounds they would exceed, and fly Too near the Sun, scorched, they drop down, and die. What an occasion lost you to improve The Prince's Favour and the People's Love? This when considering Posterity Shall think upon, they'll hate your Memory; And as once ancient Rome, they in their turn, Wish you had never died, or ne'er been born. Should your Successors tread your steps, they then, Though they were Gods, like us shall die like men. Oh! may the next (for sure a next will be) Avoid the Rock that ruin'd you and me: Deeply affected with a just concern At our sad Fate, self-preservation learn; And merit (by avoiding needless Fears) By moderate Councils and praiseworthy Cares, A Monarch's Blessing and three Kingdoms Prayers. LONDON, Printed for AL. BANKS, Anno Domini, MDCLCLXXXI.