Helter Skelter, OR THE Devil upon two Sticks. In a Comical Dialogue between HIGH CHURCH and LOW CHURCH, Relating to the Times.  By the Author of▪ All Men Ma● High Church Man. 
HERE Drawer, bring us t'other Quart,  
I love the Church with all my Heart,  
'tis the maintains the Power Royal,  
And teaches Subjects to be Loyal;  
Altho some ca●ting Drones and Asses,  
Revile her Common-Pray'rs as Masses,  
And thro' Fools Consciences called Squeami●●,  
Condemn her spotless Faith as Romish.  
I say, such Scandals are but Fictions,  
Malicious whiggish Contradictions:  
And I'll be bound myself, by Jove,  
Not only to assert, but prove,  
She savours of no Popish leaven,  
But i● the surest Guide to Heaven▪  
Come Drawer fill a Glass to th'bri●▪  
Let the Low sin●, and High-Church swim,  
For we that are the ●●ns o'th' High,  
Shall surely once surmount the Sky,  
Whilst the dark Zealots of the Low,  
S●●● down wards to the bottom go,  
In this salubrious Glass of Claret,  
The best of cordials I'll aver it,  
I wish Prosperity with all  
My Heart, to the Church Episcopal.  
And hope the Crown, the same will nourish.  
That the true Faith may ever flourish▪  
Huzza I here goes a merry Bumper,  
Come pledge me, Sir, or you're a Rumper▪  Low Churchman. 
Methinks good Sir you're mighty warm,  
I'd have you think I wish no harm.  
To th'Bishops, or the Church, God mend'em'  
Or any Hotspurs that defend 'em,  
But I must plainly tell you this, Sir.  
Ill drink no Wine but what I please, Sir  
No High. Fly's of you all, Gad take me,  
If I refuse to drink▪ shall make me.  
Nay I'll not pledge, for all your grinning,  
Such Popish Healths as your beginning:  
I'd have you think I scorn to fear,  
Any Tantivy▪ Ranter he●e▪  
Ay; nod your Head, and knit your Bro●▪  
We've Liberty of conscience now,  
Come, Neighbour Cant, GOD save the Queen  
We value no such fiery Men,  
God grant her Grace as well as Breath,  
To live and Reign like Elizabeth.  High Churchman. 
Blood, Sir; for all you talk so big,  
I say you're but a canting Whig,  
A tank dissembling Presbyterian,  
The Spawn of some old Oliverian  
Whose Heart maliciously is bent,  
Against both Church and Governments;  
And tho' you seem to wish the Crown  
So well, you'd gladly pull it down,  
And drink the Q●●●s Health, yet you'd rather  
Betray the Daughter like the Father;  
For all the Wheedles●▪ and God bless ye●●,  
Found in your glavering addresses;  
adorned with florid canting stuff,  
We know your inside well enough.  
I say, he's Rumpish that abuses  
The High-Church, or her Health refuses,  
And that he would be glad to see  
Once more the scene of Forty-Three;  
And who approves the Blood then spilled▪  
Must be a Partner in the Guilt,  
And make himself a vile Abetter,  
By now consenting to the matter.  Low Churchman 
I say, sir, you're a mere ●hite-fire,  
You a good subject, you a liar,  
A flaunting▪ tanting Pe●kenire;  
A Popish slave, a Jacobite;  
That would have all the Nation groan,  
Beneath the Whore of Bab●lon:  
What tho' a King once lost his Head.  
Why should the Blame on us be said▪  
Why did not your Church Militant,  
That over your Wine so rave and ran●  
Behave themselves like better Soldiers  
And fight to keep it on his shoulders▪  
Are we ro blame because you lost.  
What many Thousand Liv●● had cost;  
Why did not all your ●o●cas rally,  
To stop the Mischiefs that befall ye,  
But tamely stand, and sighing see  
Your Martyr's sad Catast●ophe;  
〈◇〉 sh●me henceforward cease to brag on  
your Church wh●s● emblem ●ho' a Dragon  
To show it is her Constitution  
To uphold Popish p●rsecution:  
Yet a●e her Sons such bastard Romans,  
They fight u● bast●n● Doctors Commons.  
Wher● their C●u●t-Spiritu●l●s the Field.  
The Pen the Sword, and Gold the Sh eld:  
But now be praised w●'t● out of danger,  
And fo●r no high flown Bishops Ang●r.  
No fiery Churchman s Informa●ion,  
No gripping P●octor or Citation;  
But can serve GOD, w●●re o'●r we please  
In ●pight of en●mies l●k● th●s●; ●●rig●t us  
Th● 〈◇〉 your high flying wo●ds sh●n't  
You● Chu●●h is gag'd and cannot bite us.  High Churchman. 
●ell you. Sir, for all your bawling,  
You r●●n 〈◇〉 c●●ing K●ip●●●oling.  
A Ca●v●●● 〈◇〉 Kn●ve a Flash a Bounce;  
A grey ha●'d gr●●● illit rare Du●c●.  
Di● not your Trib● h●t●h Civil Wars,  
And set th● Nation by the Ears,  
P●uck down the church by heaven appo n read  
And ●●mple on the Lord's Anointed  
Murder and plunder all his Friends,  
A●d Tr●son p●●●ch to gain their Ends;  
And when your Swords thro' vile dis●sters  
Had made you England s bloody M●sters.  
〈◇〉 no● you than with ●●antick Joy,  
The Monuments ●'th' dead destroy,  
A●d l●k● a heathenish pack of Knaves,  
D stu b their Ashes in their Graves,  
〈◇〉 sa●k God's Al●a●s with you● Forees.  
profane his Churches with your Horses  
B●●●k sacred Windows in your Fury.  
Painted long since to Heavens Glory,  
B●caus● malicious Fools, in spite,  
C●y d out they gave a Popish Light;  
And when▪ like wild ●eb●luous Devils.  
You'd done all these inf●rn●l Evils  
And had the Sov'r●●gn Power subdued,  
By drinking up th● Nation's blood'  
Could you tell ●●w to Rule the Roast,  
Or use that Pow r you had engrossed;  
〈◇〉 first 'twas seat●d in the Rump.  
〈◇〉 ●hence did in●o th' A●my jump;  
Then was it plac'● in Regu ators.  
Th●y had the Ca●v●ssing of Matters;  
●●om thence against th' Parliament●.  
To cromwell next, by their consent:  
T●u● back and forward was it handed,  
And 〈◇〉 about the Nation banded,  
Not knowing how to long maintain  
●he power they did so basely gain  
But was at last forced with dishonour.  
To giv● it back to it's right Owner,  
So busi● M●nkeys that have seen;  
Their Master handle what is keen,  
Will in his absence, take in hand,  
What silly B ut●s don't understand-  
But when they've hurt some tender part,  
And see the Blood, and feel the smart;  
They gladly lay down what they found,  
And lick to heal the painful wound.  Low Church Man. 

I say, sir, you're a Popish Biggot,  
A Tyrant's Slave, a Loyal Maggot,  
A speaking servile Tom a doodle,  
That has no Brains within thy N●●dle;  
A zealous, poor, Crown serving To●●.  
F●t only to give K●ngs thy money;  
A Cow'rdly non-resisting B●bble.  
awed by the se●● of Death or Trouble▪  
A Wo●m for M●j●sty to tread on,  
An As● for Ba●thens to be leid on;  
A Gover●men●'s most us●ful Tool.  
A Sacred Monarch's humble Fool,  
A Bishop●●● d●● Jack●● d●ndy,  
A Papist, sir, I understand ye;  
A Foot-ball st●ffe with Loyal Zeal.  
For Priests to kick 'twixt Heaven& H●ll  
I'l● war'nt you're such a Loyal Slave,  
You'd serve the Crown w●th all you have  
Lay down your Life or your estate,  
To mak● your Prince p●o●usely g●a●●;  
Or sight like Butcher's favourite Brindle;  
R●ther than Pr●lacy should dwindle:  
N●● d●● a Martyr for the Church.  
B fo●e you'd leave her in the lu●●h▪  
even hug thy high flown Loy●l Fury,  
I'm no such Block hand I'l assure ye;  
Kings by the People first were made,  
And should no longer be obeyed  
Than whilst they mind our preservation;  
And act for th' wel-fare of the Nation.  
truly maintaining their Compaction,  
Without encroachment or Exaction;  
But if at any time we find 'em  
Grasp at more power than we designed 'em  
O that they've broken thro', or forsaken  
The solemn Vows& Oaths they've taken  
Or if they prove such Storks ●t Logs,  
complained of by old Aesop's Frogs;  
The suffering People may dismount  
Such Kings, and call them to accoun●;  
GOD only made them Men, 'tis we  
That yield them their Authorie,  
It's Conquest gives a right to Rule,  
The Throne is such a precatious Stool.  
That whosoever fi●e thereon,  
Must always have his Dagger drawn;  
For if the people can by force.  
Dethrone the Victor or do worse;  
Their Native freedom to recover,  
Their Right's the same with his all over.  
'tis not to say he made us swear,  
That we would true Allegiance bear;  
And that we are his Slaves in troth;  
Because we've taken such an Oath;  
N●, since we can't dispute his title;  
We're forced ●o flatter him a little;  
And only do what he desires;  
To gain those points our cause requires  
Not that an Oath can binding be  
Extorted in necessity:  
For bonds in prison are not good;  
There is no reason that they should:  
What tho' a thief upon the Road;  
Robs me, and makes me swear by G—d.  
I'd ne●er discover him should I find him  
Do you believe this Oath is binding?  
No, by my troth for all I'd sworn;  
I'd make him take a Tyburn turn:  
And after all your mighty Rattles,  
Of Norman Victories and Battles;  
A Conqueror 'twixt me and you;  
Is but the greater thief o'th' two:  
Nor can the Oaths he puts upon us  
When by the Sword he'as over run us:  
Bind us t'aclowledge his protection:  
Longer than 〈◇〉 can force Subjection?  
But when we find his strength doth fail,  
And we can ove● his power prevail;  
We have the s●●l same title then  
To Govern, a● he ●ad to Reign.  
And if we pull the Tyrant down,  
And from h●● temple 〈◇〉 the Crown)  
We ta●e no mor● than what's our own.)  
Y●t you poo● Loyal Fools, will c●y  
w and co●● 〈…〉 wrong to majesty.  
〈…〉 as pow r to quell;  
O● 〈◇〉 h●●l say that W●●●bel;  
A● 〈…〉 'tis we that must be halter'd,  
B 〈…〉 ●or attempts we falter'd▪  
〈◇〉 S●●●ess shoul● crown our matters.  
T● K●●g and Friends are then the Traitors  
〈◇〉 Law we've seen it often tried;  
〈…〉 on the strongest side.   

As 〈◇〉 your proud and lazy Prelates,  
S● touch ●●or'd by Popish Zealots;  
I tel● y●u plainly I abhor' em.  
And think there's no occasion for' em.  
T●e Sh●pherds Cro●k their Lordships wear  
To sig●●●y their P●storal Car●,  
Is of no other Service grown  
Unless to ho●● the church to th' Crown.  
Nor do●s th●● fitting in the H—  
To th' public signify a Lou●e;  
O●ly in matters of Debate.  
That hap n to e●flame the State,  
I ●m 〈◇〉 w●●●ing to forget  
The m ghty Goo● they did of late;  
But f●ar they'l prove such pious Men,  
As to undo it all again.  
To tell you truly I suspect 'em;  
And cannot cordially affect 'em;  
But dare to own before my Betters;  
I love no Car●●nals▪ Caps or Mitres.   High Church Man. 

Now rage thy envious Heart has fired,  
I't war'nt thou thi●k'st thyself inspired;  
And that thy base rebellious Babble,  
In spite thou'st uttered at the table,  
Is fill d with so much charming sense,  
And such convincing arguments;  
That nothing can withstand the force  
Of thy Fanatical discourse▪  
But I must tell thee, thou'rt a Dolt;  
A fool for shooting such a boult:  
You fire at random in the dark,  
And fall a Mile beside the Mark,  
Show by your Talk that you're a scurvy  
Knave, that would turn us topsy turvy,  
A restless Wretch, that wants to tower  
Above thy Merit or thy Power▪  
possessed with that strange stupifaction,  
As't wish thy native Land s distraction,  
T' enrich thyself by others ruin.  
And thrive by honest Mens undoing.  
I wonder who first taught thee Treason.  
And how thou suck'st in so much poison  
To think the People may dethrone  
The King, and make his Pow r their own;  
So any Rebel, you will own,  
Has a just Title to the Crown;  
If once by force he can but gain it.  
And has but power to maintain it.  
Rare Doctrine! sure from Hell first brought▪  
By some Incarnate Devil taught;  
Some Guile of Lucifer's designed  
To spoil the Peace of Human-kind  
To foment Feuds to Civil Wars.  
And set whole Kingdoms by the Ears:  
For where such Nations do increase,  
There can be no such thing as Peace:   

Kings were at first by heaven appointed,  
And by GOD 'S holy Priest anointed.  
Not placed by th' People over the Land,  
But governed by Divine Command:  
The Lord himself by Revelation,  
Gave to the Priest the noimination,  
Without the Subjects approbation,  
But when the People he abused  
And the great power he had misused  
So that just Heaven disapproved him.  
GOD Himself judged him. and removed him  
By g●ving in a Dream or Vision,  
To his High Priest a new Commission  
To openly declare his Word  
Revealed unto him by the Lord.  
That Heaven had denounced in Anger;  
So ill a King should reign no longer,  
And that the Lord had new appointed  
Another Prince to be Anointed.  
On the Kings Misrule or Defection,  
GOD gave the People no Election,  
They were obliged to be content,)  
With such a King as Heaven sent,  
And to approve his Government.)  
For if the People by their Voice  
Made Kings and they should Rule hy choice,  
theyed Vote their Monarchs up and down,  
And so precarious make the Crown,  
That e're they'd long one King obeied  
theyed ch●se another over his Head,  
So that the Throne would be a Chair,  
Much fitter for my good Lord-May'r.  
Besides allow that monarchy  
Should( as you wish) elective be,  
In our divided wrangling Nation.  
So full of Strife and Emulation,  
How would two Parties, that oppose  
Each other as inveterate Foes,  
That disunite in every thing,  
Agree in choosing of a King?  
Both would their Fav'rites countenance,  
And each side would their own advance;  
theyed ne er concur in any One,  
And if we've Two as good have none:  
Then if two Parties by their Voices,  
To please themselves make diff rent Choices  
How must they then dispute their Right,  
Unless it be by open fight?  
The Sword must be the Arbitrater,  
And Conquest must decide the Matter;  
So terminate in spite of Votes.  
In cutting one anothers Throats.  
Thus every popular Election  
Would end in Misery and Distraction●  
The City scarce can choose her May'rs,  
But fall together by the Ears;  
Nor Country Boors and Clowns content them▪  
Selves to choose those that represent them:  
Least every such Election cloles  
With broken Heads, and bloody Noses,  
What evils then must needs befall us,  
Were we to choose the Kings that Rule us!  
Should England e'er prove so defective.  
As once to make her Crown Elective,  
Whoever we should choose as King  
Would find he stood so tottering  
That he must like a Tyrant Rule.  
And make us Slaves, or be our Fool!   Low Churchman. 

Wounds, hold your Popish tittle-tattle,  
'T would make one swear to hear you prattle;  
Nay put a Saint into a Passion,  
To listen to your vile Oration!  
Why what a Pox( forgive good L—d)  
My speaking such a wicked Word:  
But what good Man on Earth can be  
From such vain filthy Language free,  
In such provoking Company.  
I say Sir you're a Perkenite,  
And talk like any Bedlamite:  
You're Mad, and know not what you say,  
But rave like one that would betray  
Our English Liberties and Rights.  
Into the hands of Jacobites.  
And make us all poor slavish Creatures;  
To heathenish Crowns and Popish Mitres▪  
But e're such Times shall come about.  
We'll make the Devil of a rout;  
Alarm your Ears with such strange Thunder▪  
That should turn all your hopes to wonder,  
For all I am old, I thank the Lord,  
I'm able still to wield a Sword,  
Or cock a musket in the Field.  
And would do both, before I'd yield  
The power of England should be given  
To any Papist under Heaven.   

Go you're a Romish Tory, Sir.  
A mere Cathedral Worshipper.  
That goes to Church to hear a Jargon  
Of Popish Masses with the Organ,  
As if you thought( by your advancing  
Fine Tunes) your Saints above, loved Dancing  
I say such Musical High Flyers,  
Are worse than Jesuits or friars.  
And are nought else in good Mens Eyes,  
But down right Papists in disguise.  
Your idle Talk provockes my Anger,  
I'll keep you company no longer,  
You may perhaps have some design.  
There's Nine pence for my pint of Wi●e.  
And so good night t'ye, Master High Church,  
I'm sure I ne're shal be of Thy Church.   High Church-Man. [ To the rest of the company] 
Good Night! Did ever Mortal Ear,  
Such strange Rebellious Notions hear-  
imbibed from stupid envious Teachers,  
Whose Malice only made them Preachers▪  
England, unhappy wouldst thou be  
Beneath such Mens authority!  
Be wise and shun the sad Disasters,  
Of having such fanatic Masters.  
Who abuse Justice, scoff at Reason▪  
Hate loyalty, and nourish Treason.  
And brand all th●se that thwart their kna●●rie.  
With love of popery& slavery.  
May heaven protect the Church and State  
From what such Saints would fain be at.  
That the Queen long may Rule the Natio●●  
And her Arms gain such Reputation,  
As to establish Europe's Peace;  
And make all foreign discords cease▪  
Also with one pacifick Smile.  
Our Home Divisions Reconcile,  
And ever bless our fruitful Isle.  
FINIS.