Dr. OATS his VINDICATION: AFFIRMING THAT His EVIDENCE is not to be baffled by the PAPISTS.  
AND SHOWING The Power that induced him to Discover this Damnable Hellish Popish PLOT against the Protestant Religion.  

WISDOM, the Fruitful Mother of all things,  
The Virgin Bride of the great KING of Kings;  
This Heavenly Lady, first instructed Me,  
To free my Country from Rome's Tyranny.  
The World is Blind, and they that Headlong run,  
Without this G●id, are utterly undone.  
Whilst I was galloping a full Career,  
A Glorious Angel did to me appear,  
Great Britain's Genius, in a mourning weed.  
Glanced in my Eye, which made my Heart to bleed.   

CAnst thou, quoth she, behold thy Country's fall,  
Into the Hands of every Cannibal?  
Devouring Dogs, who not content with Fleeces,  
Do gape to grind both Flesh and Bones to pieces!  
Who, under colour of feigned Holiness,  
Would make poor Albion a mere Wilderness.  
Rome had her Titus, we in Story find,  
Who was the full Delight of all Mankind:  
Be like him than, 'tis not a time to play,  
To do thy Country good, lose not a day:  
Armies of Serpents swarm about her Ears,  
Ready to be devoured by Wolves and Bears.  
I have designed thee for this Noble Work,  
amongst these Murderers no longer lurk.  
What canst thou see the Land where thou wast born,  
Made the World's Laughter and the public Scorn?  
Thine aged Fathers reverend Snowwhite Head,  
With Fettered hands, to Execution led?  
A Pander to thy Mother, monstrous base,  
Thy Sister Strumpeted before thy face?  
The Wife before her Husband's face defiled?  
Your  plundered, and your Houses spoiled?  
This Famous Island topsy-turvy turned?  
The Inhabitants all banished or burned?  
And thou thyself canst not escape their Fury,  
To take thy Life, they have summoned up a Jury!  
Behave thyself as wisely as you can,  
'Tis Crime enough to be an Englishman.  
Thy Countries peace and safety will be thine,  
With bloody Monsters, see thou dost not join:  
Be Wise and Valiant, nothing can distress thee,  
Tho the Pope Curse, the Heaven of Heavens will bless thee.  
To Conquer Canaan, Israel sent out Spies,  
Be thou a Caleb in a low Disguise;  
To bring their Deeds of darkness to the Light,  
With Canaanites be thou a Canaanite.  
In my wise School, I'll make thee a Refiner,  
An Underminer of the Underminer:  
The Fiends are putting forth with all their might  
A Plot, deeper than Hell, darker than Night!   

THese words did pierce my Soul, like a keen Arrow,  
They glided through my Bones, and all my Marrow.  
I'll follow thy Advice, thus I reply,  
Though Snakes and Adders in the way do lie.  
The die is cast, I want no further Wooing,  
And if I fall, I'll perish by well doing:  
With an undaunted Courage I'll march on,  
Till I have passed this River Rubicon.  
Like the brave Roman Caesar, lo, I stand,  
Though Rome encounter me by Sea and Land.  
A Joshua to this Land, good News I bring:  
A Faithful Mordecai unto my King:  
Rome's stinking Holiness gins to Taint,  
Where every Murderer is made a Saint.  
Hold up thy head, Great Britain, thou shalt see  
Accursed Haman hanging on a Tree:  
This Resolution in my mind did fall,  
That for a time, I was not I at all!  
The Fire of Love so flamed in my Breast,  
For England's safety I could take no rest!  
The Dove did shine like a bright morning Sun,  
And put the Murdering Dragon to the run:  
The Lamb he was my Counsellor, who said,  
Find out those horrid Treasons that are laid  
Against thy Native Soil, whose Funeral Bell  
Is now rung-out by all the Powers of Hell:  
A Grave prepared, a Gulf doth open stand  
To swallow all the People of this Land,  
Arise, the Angel said, It is THY Lot,  
To sound the bottom of this Hellish PLOT,  
Guided along by Providence Divine,  
Rip through the Bowels of this Dark Design:  
I, mount the Alps, stand for fair Italy,  
To sound Rome's machiavellian Policy:  
I swiftly post through Flanders, pleasant France,  
To the castilian Court, I did advance:  
I there unriped the bowels of this PLOT,  
Saw how these Nations at fair England Shot,  
In all those Countries which foul Treason breeds,  
I sucked sweet Honey from most poisonous weeds;  
Of which an Antidote I did compound,  
To Cure fair England of her secret Wound.  
That I might give them their own bitter Pill,  
I kept the Copies of their Letters still;  
Laden with spoils of Treachery and Treason,  
I came unto my King, had I not reason?  
My many years Intelligence, I brought  
Unto his hands, and how his LIFE was sought.  
Tho all the people had their Sentence read,  
Yet HE, their King, this dismal Dance must lead.  
He did receive me with a gracious Eye,  
For at the stake his Sacred Life did lie.  
All Nations trust the Sword for their Defence,  
But England, thou art saved by Providence!  
For being Blind, thou didst not see nor know,  
The Arm was up to give the fatal Blow!  
Hoodwinked asleep, thou hadst for ever been,  
Had not wise Providence stept-in between.  
Armies of Angels, stood in battle array,  
Their General did fight for thee this day.  
Let not the name of Oats live, let it die,  
And in the Grave of dark Oblivion lie:  
Let Bedloe, Oats and Dugdale be forgot,  
For they were not discoveres of this Plot;  
These were but Harps in Great Jehovah's hand,  
On whom he played to save a Sinful Land:  
Our General he did call, and we Obeyed,  
We were the Instruments on whom he played  
A Tune so pleasant on the Humble Lyre,  
That all succeeding Ages will admire!  
To this Great God the Ancient of days  
Let us give all the Honour and the Praise,  
Who brought a Daniel from the Lion's Den,  
And saved us from the Hands of Wicked men;  
His Eye hath raised to Life with one sweet Ray,  
A Nation that upon its Death Bed lay.  
Henceforth Great Britain show thy smiling Face,  
In thee is Born a Child of Heavenly Race,  
Sprung from the Loins of the Immortal Dove,  
Wisdom his Mother, and his Sire is Love:  
Riding Triumphant on his Milk white Steed,  
This Prince shall Cure the Nations that now bleed:  
Envy and Malice shall fall down before him,  
The Blackmore and the Indian 〈◊〉  
Into his Fold all Nations he will gather,  
Our Noble King shall be a Nursing Father:  
Sweet Peace o'er all the Earth shall then be sown,  
Stiffnecked Rebellion shall no more be known;  
Both King and Subject in one Yoke shall draw,  
The Prince's Will shall be the Subjects Law:  
The Prince with such Commanding Love shall sway,  
The Peoplle will take pleasure to obey:  
They shall rejoice when they do understand  
All Arbitrary power is in his hand:  
A full Confinement is full Liberty,  
And when they most are bound, they are most free:  
No Council to Direct his Just Commands,  
For Wisdom always at his Elbow stands:  
No heavy Tax can move the People's Gall,  
For they are willing to surrender all:  
Both Prince and People sit upon one Throne,  
For Prince and People perfectly are one:  
Full Union and Communion here we find,  
One Life, one Love, one Soul, one undivided Mind:  
But e'er this come to pass, we clearly see  
Disturbances in every place shall be;  
The Elements shall quarrel with each Star,  
Dame Nature with herself shall be at War:  
The whole Creation that hath been accursed,  
Shall fall into a Chaos, as at first:  
In all the World there will be strong Delusion,  
Darkness and Death, Confusion on Confusion:  
When this Black Cloud is o'er, what will ensue?  
The Master Builder will Build all things new,  
When this old House is burnt that's made of Clay,  
he'll Build a Palace that shall ne'er decay:  
The Soul, in fine, being Purged from Dross and Tin,  
Shall now spring up a Glorious Cherubin.  
A New Sun in the Firmament shall rise,  
Whose Glorious Beams shall dazzle Mortal Eyes!  
The Stars shall be refined which now we see,  
And this dull Lump a Paradise will be,  
Throu Storms and Tempests we no more shall pass,  
For we shall Sail upon the Sea of Glass:  
New Stars, new Planets guide the Heavenly flore,  
Such as by Men were never seen before:  
The little Birds on every Bough shall Sing,  
No Winter but an Everlasting Spring,  
Fresh flourishing Youth shall every thing restore,  
Old Age is past; and Man shall Die no more;  
Sickness and Sorrow are for ever fled,  
All Tears are wiped away, and Death is dead.    

LONDON, Printed by T. Dawks, in the Year MDCLXXX.