The Loyal Conquest Or, Destruction of Treason, A SONG  
To the Tune of, Lay by your Pleading, the Law ly's a Bleeding.  

NOW Loyal Tories  
May Triumph in Glories,  
The Fatal Plot is now betrayed,  
The Rest were sham's and Stories.  
Now against Treason,  
We have Law and Reason;  
And ev'ry Bloody Whig must go,  
To Pot in Time and Season.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming,  
No Ramming, nor Damning,  
No Ignoramus Jury's now,  
For whigs, but only Hanging.   

II.  
Look a little farther,  
Place things in order,  
Those that seek to Kill their King,  
Godfrey might Murder.  
Now they're Detected,  
By Heaven Neglected;  
In black despair cut their Throats,  
Thus Pluto's Work's effected.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming, etc.   

III.  
Catch grows in Passion,  
And fears this New Fashion;  
Lest ev'ry Traitor hang himself,  
And spoil his best Profession.  
Tho' four in a Morning  
Tyburn Adorning;  
He Cries out for a Score a time,  
To get his Men their Learning:  
No Shamming, nor Flaming, etc.   

iv  
Now we have sounded  
The bottom which confounded,  
Our Plotting Parliament of late  
Who had our King surrounded.  
Hamden and others,  
And Trencher were Brothers;  
Who were to kill the King and Duke,  
And hang us for the Murders.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming, etc.   

V  
Surprising the Tower  
And Court, in an Hour,  
And enter at the Traitor's Gate,  
But was not in their Power.  
O now Guards are Doubled,  
 long they will be Tripled,  
The Harmony of Gun and Drum,  
Makes Guilty Conscience Troubled.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming, etc.   

VI  
If Grey is Retaken,  
The Root o'th' Plot is shaken,  
Russel and the rest Condemned,  
The Bleeding Cause to waken.  
Monmouth in Town still  
With Armstrong his Council;  
The Lady G— may find him out,  
Under some Smock or Gown Still.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming, etc.   

VII.  
Give 'em no Quarter,  
They Aim at Crown and Garter,  
They're of that Bloody Regiment,  
That made their King a Martyr.  
Leave none to breed on,  
They'd make us to bleed on;  
They are the bloody'st Cannibals  
That ever man did Read on.  
No Shamming, nor Flaming,  
No Ramming, nor Damning,  
No Ignoramus Jury's now,  
For whigs, but only Hanging.    

LONDON Printed for J. Dean, 1683. Bookseller in Cranborn-Street in Leicester-Fields; near Newport-House.