A rejoinder TO THE WHIGGISH POEM UPON THE Tory-Prentices-Feast AT MERCHANT-TAYLORS-HALL.  

WELL! Tory Poets answers come at last,  
The Tory Sots never writ Verse in hast;  
Or else the Cur got drunk like snoring Sow,  
Lay under Board, and never wa'kt till now;  
But if the noise the yelping Beagles keep  
Did waken him, his Verse I 'm sure's asleep.  
I'll swear, I thought( when first I looked on  
His Poem) he had sent me back mine own:  
'T began alike; alike almost throughout,  
'Twas only mine was turned the inside out:  
'Tis a damned trick the Tory Tools have got,  
To kill an Enemy with his own Shot:  
Had he not imped me, he'd been to seek  
For an Exordium another week;  
For of the Tory Poets I must say  
It's a witty Rogue can writ a Verse a day.  
But Gaffer-Goose-Cap, who  told you such stories,  
His Majesty sent Bucks to feast the Tories?  
You might as well have said the King was dressed  
In Royal Robes, and came to be your guest.  
But you may speak amiss, amiss may do,  
It had been Treason if I had said so;  
Tories may murder famed, may Honour kill,  
May slander Kings, and yet be Loyal still,  
Their Loyalty consists in doing ill.  
You may 'tis like by these your Verses lewd,  
Make the mistaken Tory multitude  
Believe I Treason spake, and that I swore,  
And I may safely say, you'l Drink and Whore,  
But this for truth they all do know before.  
That Noblemen were Priests, I ne're said so;  
But Doctor Crape-Gown's may, for ought I know;  
'Twas Scandalum magnat. if I do in jest  
But speak one word 'gainst Stewards of the Feast;  
Though Lords be high, yet Prentices are low,  
And lousy Taylors still were counted so:  
You may say what you please, but without doubt  
I may speak Treason 'gainst the Ragged-Rout;  
And Silly Fops 'cause they've all Whiggs abhorred,  
Shall have as good a title as a Lord;  
And prosecute for scandal whom they please:  
Such Lordly things are lordly Prentices.  
No, silly Citts! for ever doomed to Shops,  
Keep still your ancient titles, Fools and Fops.  
This shame won't take; I'm Loyal still and true,  
Although I'm scandalized by traitorous you;  
Disloyal Tories! you the Traytors are;  
Whilst Loyal Baxter, Curtis, Loyal Care  
Bravely maintain their sovereigns right in truth,  
Without e're feasting of the snorty Youth,  
True Whigs ne're stooped to such mean tricks as these,  
To feast the hungry snivelling Prentices.  
Illustrious Charles! by all that's great and high!  
( Tho I am branded with Disloyalty)  
No fawning Courtier e're shall so much gloze  
As I'll detest thine and thy Nations Foes;  
No Charles the third, nor budding Embryo-King  
Shall be the Subject for my Muse to sing  
Whilst thou dost live; let traitorous Tories soothe,  
And raise Sedition in the Factious Youth;  
Long mayst thou live and flourish on thy Throne,  
While all these little Kings shall basely tumble down.    

LONDON, Printed in the Year 1682.