AN ADDRESS FROM SALAMANCA, To her( unknown) Off-spring, Dr. T. O. Concerning the present State of Affairs in ENGLAND, Natura—— as Homini sublime dedit.  

SON Titus,( for so you strive to be  
To me, and to the worlds vain Pageantry)  
From that a Blessing justly you may crave,  
You the Wits Subject, to yourself a Slave;  
On you they lofty fancies daily file,  
But Fancies scarce from you can get a smile.  
Sure such a Boy as you I never bore;  
Or if I did, I never saw you more,  
After Latona from my Breast you tore.  
I'll SWEAR it not; for Mothers may  
Mistake the morning-light for noon of day:  
Short is their sleep, wakened by Agonies,  
Sorrow for Sons, and careful Jealousies.  
Such are my Cares for thee, Oh! could I see  
In Parchment Records, or in History  
Thy Name enrolled, that I might Blessings give  
To thy great Soul, by which thou long mayst live;  
But finding not thy Name, I scarce believe  
Thou didst from Us a Doctors Garb receive:  
Of thee the only knowledge England writes,  
To thee do flock her True blue Favourites.  
An O Ye, Yes, some time ago came hither,  
For Bills as Black as the fallen Lucifer:  
After a Doctor too they did inquire,  
Who was( they say) of our Grave Learned Choir.  
An Ingenious Pen, with Face Sublime,  
Does thee describe, as in old time  
The Poets feigned blessed Nature to have dressed  
Mankind, to specify it from Savage Beast.  
We red of Mighty Heroes, and of famed  
Sounding Retreats to sense in lofty strain.  
Of Oaths we hear profaned to that degree,  
They work Despair in subtle Gravity,  
They seem confederates with Anarchy.  
A Laboratory too we find there is,  
Which you frequent, and seldom miss:  
There is beat out much Cunning Closet-Plots,  
And there you wreathe Associating Knots.  
There is a Mighty Smalster, as some tell us,  
An Emet of a man, from whom God bless us:  
This Pismire you have lately found,  
Since the Severer Winters left the Ground.  
Hector you're turned, you swear, and damn the Nation,  
But of the two the former's most your Fashion:  
King, Prince and Tory all you'd drive before ye,  
Hurling your Oaths at those that never saw ye;  
Your Mercenary Tongue does 'vice decry,  
Your practise does commend what you deny:  
Such holy Cheats as these we can discern;  
Thus distant from you, we such Frauds can learn;  
Wonder not, discerning Heads can farther prie  
In disguised Cassocks sanctified Knavery,  
And into Campaign-Coats Cajolry.  
Destruction naked on your Brow appears,  
But such it is, that few there are it fears.  
Such news as this dislodges you from our Breast,  
Where you did never as a DOCTOR rest.  
Keep( if thou canst) in beauteous Albions Plain,  
A Soil too good for thy distempered Brain.  
A shipwrecked Vessel mayst thou be  
In thine own Sea of Perjury.   

farewell; No more to Salamanca Dear,  
The Name of Son and Mother dieth here.  
Excuse me then, if Curses to thee come  
From Salamanca, due to such a Son.   
Given at our Consistory at Salamanca, May 10. New-stile, Old-stile May 20. ' Per Public' Notar' Hugone Peters Redivivus.   

LONDON, Printed for A. Banks. 1682.