The most Renowned PRINCE RUPERT.  
Printed Exactly to the Author's Original.  

O That I could but Vote myself a Poet!  
Or had the Legislative knack to do it!  
Or like the Doctors Militant, could get  
Dubed at adventure Verser Banneret!  
Or had I Cacus trick, to make my Rhimes  
Their own Antipodes, and tract the Times.  
Faces about, says the Remonstrant spirit;  
Allegiance is Malignant, Treason Merit:  
Huntington-colt, that posed the sage Recorder,  
Might be a Sturgeon now, and pass by Order.  
Had I but— 's gift, (that splay-mouthed brother)  
That declares one way, and yet means another:  
Could I but write asquint; then (Sir) long since,  
You had been sung, A great and glorious Prince:  
I had observed the language of the days;  
Blasphemed you, and then periwiged the phrase  
With Humble service, and such other Fustian,  
Bells which ring backward in this great combustion:  
I had reviled you, and without offence  
Te Literal, and Equitable sense  
Would make it good: when all fails that will do't,  
(Sure that Distinction cleft the devil's foot)  
This were my Dialect, would your Highness please  
To read me but with Hebrew Spectacles;  
Interpret counter, what is cross rehearsed:  
Libels are Commendations when reversed.  
But you're enchanted, Sir, you're doubly free  
From the great Guns and squibbling Poety;  
Whom neither Bilbo nor Invention pierces,  
Proof even against th'Artillery of Verses.  
Strange! that the Muses cannot wound your Mail;  
If not their Art, yet let their Sex prevail.  
At that known Leaguer where the bonny Besses  
Supplied the Bowstrings with their twisted Tresses,  
Your Spells could ne'er have fenced you, every Arrow  
Had lanced your noble breast, and drunk the marrow:  
For Beauty, like white Powder, makes no noise;  
And yet the silent Hypocrite destroys,  
Then use those nuns of Helicon with pity,  
Lest Wh— tell his Gossips of the City,  
That you kill Women too, nay Maids, and such  
Their General wants Militia to touch.  
Impotent E—, is it not a shame  
Our Commonwealth, like to a Turkish Dame,  
Should have an Eunuch Guardian? May she be  
Ravished by Charles, rather than saved by thee.   

But why, my Muse, like a Green-sickness-Girl,  
Feedest thou on coals and dirt? a Gelding Earl  
Gives no more relish to thy female palate,  
Than to that Ass did once the thistle-salad.  
Then quit that barren Theme, and all at once  
Thou and thy sisters, like bright Amazons,  
Give Rupert an Alarum. Rupert! one  
Whose Name is Wit's Superfoetation:  
Makes Fancy, like Eternity's round womb,  
Unite all Valour, present, past, to come,  
He, who the old Philos●ohy controls,  
That voted down plurality of souls:  
He breathes a Grand Committee; all that were  
The wonders of their Age, constellate here.  
And as the elder Sister Grow●… and sense  
(Souls paramount themselves) in Man commence  
But faculty of reason's Queen, no more  
Are they to him, who were complete before,  
Ingredients of his virtue. Thread the Beads  
of Caesar's acts, great Pompey's, and the Swede's:  
And 'tis a Bracelet fit for Rupert's hand,  
By which that vast Triumvirate is spaned.  
Here, here is Palmistry; here you may read  
How long the world shall live, and when't shall bleed!  
Whatever Man winds up, that Rupert hath;  
For Nature raised him on the public faith;  
Pandora's brother, to make up whose store,  
The gods were fain to run upon the score.  
Such was the Painters Brieve for Venus' face,  
Item, an eye from Jane, a lip from Grace.  
Let Isaac and his Citts slay off the plate  
That tips their Antlers for the Calf of State;  
Let the zeal-twanging nose that wants a ridge,  
Snuffling devoutly, drop his silver bridge:  
Yes, and the Gossip-spoon augment the sum,  
Although poor Caleb lose his Christendom:  
Rupert outweighs that in his Sterling self,  
Which their self-want pays in commuting pelf,  
Pardon, great Sir; for that ignoble Crew  
Gains, when made Bankrupt in the Scales with you.  
As he who in his Character of Light  
Styled it God's shadow, made it far more bright  
By an Eclipse so glorious; light being dim,  
And a dead nothing, when compared to him:  
So 'tis Illustrious to be Rupert's foil,  
And a just Trophy to be made his spoil.  
I'll pin my faith on the Diurnal's sleeve  
Hereafter, and the Guild-Hall-Creed believe;  
The Conquests which the Common Council hears  
With their wide-listening mouth from greatest Peers  
That ran away in triumph: such a foe  
Can make them Victors in their overthrow,  
Where Providence and Valour meet in one,  
Courage so poised with Circumspection,  
That he revives the quarrel once again,  
Of the soul's throne, whether in Heart or Brain;  
And leaves it a drawn Match: whose fervour can  
Hatch him, whom Nature poached but half a man,  
His Trumpet, like the Angel's at the last,  
Makes the soul rise by a miraculous blast.  
'Twas the mount Atho● carved i'th' shape of Man,  
(As 'twas defined by th' Macedonian)  
Whose right hand should a populous Land contain;  
The left should be a channel to the Main:  
His Spirit might inform th'amphibious figure,  
Yet straitlaced sweats for a Dominion bigger:  
The terror of whose Name can out of seven  
(Like Falstaff's Buckram men) make fly eleven,  
Thus some grow rich by breaking: Vipers thus,  
By being slain, are made more numerous.  
No wonder they'll confess no loss of men;  
For Rupert knocks 'em, till they gig again.  
They fear the Giblets of his Train; they fear  
Even his Dog, that four-legged Cavalier.  
He that devours the scraps which Lunsford makes,  
Whose Picture feeds upon a child in Steaks:  
Who, name but Charles, he comes aloft for Him,  
But holds up his Malignant leg at Pym:  
'Gainst whom the'ave several Articles in sauce,  
First, that he barks against the sense o'th'House;  
resolved Delinquent, to the Tower straight;  
Either to th'Lions, or the Bishop's grate:  
Next, for his Ceremonious wag o'th'tail;  
But there the Sisterhood will be his Bail;  
At least the Countess will, Lusts Amsterdam,  
That lets in all Religions of the Game.  
Thirdly, he smells Intelligence, that's better,  
And cheaper too, than Pym's from his own Letter,  
Who's doubly paid (Fortune, or We the blinder?)  
For making Plots, and then for Fox the finder.  
Lastly, he is a Devil, without doubt;  
For when he would lie down, he wheels about;  
Makes Circles, and is couchant in a Ring:  
And therefore score up one for Conjuring.  
What canst thou say, thou wretch? O quarter, quarter!  
I'm but an Instrument, a mere Sir Arthur:  
If I must hang, O let not our fates vary,  
Whose office 'tis alike to fetch and carry.  
No hopes of a Reprieve; the mutinous stir  
That strung the Jesuit, will dispatch a Cur.  
Were I a devil, as the Rebel fears,  
I see the House would try me by my Peers.  
There Jowler, there! ah Jowler!' saint, 'tis nought;  
Whate'er th'accusers cry, they're at a fault:  
And Glyn and Maynard have no more to say,  
Then when the glorious Strafford stood at Bay.  
Thus Labels but annexed to him, we see  
Enjoy a copy-hold of Victory.  
St. Peter's shadow healed; Rupert is such,  
'Twould find St. Peter work, yet wound as much;  
He gags their Guns, defeats their dire intent;  
The Cannons do but lisp and compliment.  
Sure Jove descended in a Leaden shower  
To get this Perseus, hence the fatal power  
Of Shot is strangled: Bullets thus allied,  
Fear to commit an act of Parricide.   

Go on, brave Prince, and make the world confess  
Thou art the greater world, and that the less:  
Scatter th' accumulative King, untruss  
That fivefold Fiend, the States Smectymnuus;  
Who place Religion in their Vellam-ears,  
As in their Phylacters the Jews did theirs.  
England's a Paradise, (and a modest word)  
Since guarded by a Cherubs flaming sword.  
Your Name can scare an Atheist to his Prayers,  
And cure the chincough better than the Bears:  
Old Sibyl charms the toothache with you: Nurse  
Makes you still children; and the pond'rous Curse  
The Clowns salute with, is derived from you,  
(Now Rupert take thee, Rogue, how dost thou do?)  
In fine, the Name of Rupert thunders so,  
K—'s but a rumbling Wheel-barrow.   
FINIS.