A choice collection of 120 loyal songs, all of them written since the two late plots, (viz.) the horrid Salamanca Plot in 1678, and the fanatical conspiracy in 1683. Intermixt with some new love songs with a table to find every song to which is added, an anagram, and an accrostick on the Salamanca doctor

A Collection of New Loyal SONGS, Made since the beginning of the PLOT.

The Tune, How Ʋnhappy is Phillis in Love.

1.

LEt Oliver now be forgotten, His Policy's quite out of Dores, Let Bradshaw and Hewson lie rotten, Like Sons of Phanatical Whores: For Tony's grown a Patrician, By Voting damn'd Sedition, For many years, Fam'd Politician, The Mouth of all Presbyter Peers.

2.

Old Tony a Turn-coat at Worster, Yet swore he'd maintain the King's Right; But Tony did Swagger and Bluster, Yet never drew Sword on his side. For Tony is like an old Stallion, He has still the Pox of Rebellion, And never was sound; Like the Camelion, Still changing his Shape and his Ground.

3.

Old Rowley's return'd (Heavens bless Him) From Exile and Danger set free; Old Tony made hast to Address him, And swore none more Loyal than he The King, who knew him a Traytor, And saw him squint like a Satyr; Yet through his Grace Pardon'd the Matter, And gave him since the Purse and the Mace.

4.

And now little Chancellour Tony, With Honour had Feather'd his Wing, And carefully pick'd up the Money, But never a Groat for the King: But Tony's Luck was confounded; The Duke who smoak'd him a Round-head; From Head to Heel Tony was sounded, Great York soon put a spoke in his Wheel.

5.

But now little Tony in Passion, Like Boy that had nettl'd his Breech, Maliciously took an occasion, To make a most delicate Speech; He told the King like a Croney; If e're he hop'd to have Money, He must be Rul'd: Oh fine Tony! Was ever Potent Monarch so school'd?

6.

The King issues out a Proclamation, By Learned and Loyal Advice; But Tony possesses the Nation The Councel will never be wise:

For Tony is madder and madder, And Monmouth's blown like a Bladder, And L—e too, Who grows gladder, That they Great York are like to subdue.

7.

But Destiny shortly will cross it, For Tony's grown Gouty and Sick, In spight of his Spiggot and Fawcet The States-man must go to Old Nick: For Tony rails at the Papists, Yet he himself is an Atheist; Though so precise, Foolish and Apish, Like holy Quack or Priest in Disguise.

8.

But now let this Rump of the Law see, A Maxim as Learned in part; Who e're with his Prince is too sawcy, 'Tis fear'd he's a Traytor in's heart, Then Tony cease to be witty, By buzzing Treason i'th' City; And love the King, So ends my Ditty, Or else let him die like a Dog in a string.

The Whigs Exaltation, a Pleasant New Song,

to an Old Tune of Forty One.

1.

NOw, now the Tories all shall stoop. Religion and the Laws, And Whigs on Commonwealth get up To ••a•• the Good Old Cause;

Tantivy-Boys shall all go down, And Haughty Monarchy, The ••eathern-Cap shall brave the Throne; Then Hey Boys up go we.

2.

When once that Antichristian Crew Are crush'd, and overthrown, We'l teach the Nobles how to bow, And keep their Gentry down, Good manners has a bad repute, And tends to Pride we see; We'l therefore cry all Breeding down And Hey Boys up go we.

3

The Name of Lord shall be abhorr'd, For ev'ry mans a Brother; What reason's then in Church or State One man should Rule another? Thus having Peel'd and Plunder'd all, And level'd each Degree, We'l make their plump young Daughters fall, And Hey Boys up go we.

4.

What though the KING and Parliament Cannot accord together, We have good Cause to be content, This is our Sun-shine weather; For if good Reason should take place, And they should both agree, D'zounds who wou'd be in a Round-heads case? For Hey then up go we.

5.

We'l down with all the 'Versities Where Learning is profes••:

For they still Practice, and Maintain The Language of the Beast; We'l Exercise in every Grove, And Preach beneath a Tree; We'l make a Pulpit of a Tub, Then Hey Boys up go we.

6.

The Whigs shall Rule Committee-Chair, Who will such Laws invent, As shall Exclude the Lawful Heir By Act of Parliament: We'l cut His Royal Highness down, Ev'n shorter by the Knee, That He shall never reach the Throne, Then Hey Boys up go we.

7.

We'l Smite the Idol in Guild-Hall, And then (as we were wont,) We'l cry it was a Popish Plot, And swear those Rogues have don't; His Royal Highness to Un-throne Our Interest will be, For if He e're Enjoy His own, Then Hey Boys up go we.

8.

We'l break the Windows which the Whore Of Babylon has Painted; And when their Bishops are pull'd down, Our Elders shall be Sainted: Thus having quite Enslav'd the Throne, Pretending to set free, At length the Gallows claims its own, Then Hey Boys up go we.

An Excellent New Hymn, Exalting the Mobile to Loyalty, &c.

To the Tune of Forty One.

1.

LEt Us advance the Good Old Cause; Fear not Tantivitiers, Whose Threatnings are as Senseless, as Our Jealousies and Fears; 'Tis We must perfect this great work, And all the Tories slay, And make the King a Glorious Saint The clean contrary way.

2.

It is for Liberty we Plot, And for the Publick Good, By making Bishops go to pot, And shedding Guiltless Blood; We'l Damn the Orthodoxal Beast, And their Adherents slay; When these are down, we shall be blest The clean contrary way.

3.

When We the King have Bankrupt lain, Of Power and Crown bereft Him, And all his Loyal Subjects slain, And none but Rebels left him; When we have quite undone the Land, By Ignoramus sway We'l settle the Succession, and The clean contrary way.

4.

'Tis to preserve His Majesty, That we against him rise,

The Righteous Cause can never die That's manag'd by the Wise, Th' Association's a just thing, And that does seem to say, Who fights for us, fights for the King The clean contrary way.

5.

Religion still must be th' intent, The Nations Peace and Good, The Privledge of Parliament So rarely Understood; We'l pull the Laws and Reason down, And teach men to obey Their Sovereign, and the Rights o'th' Crown The clean contrary way.

6.

Our Properties we'l upwards set, By Imprisonment and Plunder, And Needy Whigs Preferment get▪ To keep all Tories under: We'l keep in Pension Oates and Prance, To Swear and to Betray The Int'rest of the King, t'Advance The clean contrary way.

7.

What tho' the King be now misled By the Old Popish Crew? He'l find our Honesty has sped, And give us all our due; For we (he knows) do Rail and Plot, Rebellion to Obey, And that we stand for Peace and▪ Truth The clean contrary way.

8.

And now my Noble Countrey-men You cannot doubt my Zeal, That we have so true and Loyal been To King and Commonweal; And if at last we chance to Hang For what we do or say; Our comfort is, to Heav'n we Gang The clean contrary way.

A Song on His Royal Highness's return from Scotland.

To the Tune of, Hey Boys up go we.

1.

NOw, now the Zealots all must droop, The Synagogues shall down, And Truth and Loyalty get up, The Pillars of the Throne; The Whigs (who Loyalty forsook) Shall with one Voice agree, To welcom home the mighty Duke Of York and Albany.

2.

Behold with what a Glorious Train Of Noble Lords and Peers, Great York is Guarded o're the Main, In spight of all our Fears▪ Our Groundless Doubts and Jealousies Of Popish Slavery. For who can keep the Crowd in Peace, But York and Albany.

3.

The Wandring Dove that was sent forth To find some Landing near, When Englands Ark was toss••d on Floods Of Jealousies and Fears; Returns with Olive Branch of Joy, To set the Nation free From Whiggish Rage, that wou'd destroy Great York and Albany.

4·

And now He is return'd in Peace, With all His Pompous Train, Whom Heav'n protected o're the Seas, To bless this Land again? Let us with thankful Hearts comply, And Joyful Harmony; For Scotlands Hope, and Englands Joy, Is York and Albany.

5.

Let Bumpers flow, and Bonfires blaze, And every Steeple Ring, To set forth Royal Jemmy's Praise, The Brother of our King: Let Trumpets sound, and Cannons roar, And with one voice agree, Since Heav'n again has brought ashoar Great York and Albany.

6,

These solemn Rights they freely gave To ev'y Factious Brother; Who thought the Nation to Enslave, And ruine one another; To Monmouth, and each Factious Lord, To Oates and Shaftsbury;

But thought it Treason to afford To York and Albany.

7.

Now be confounded, all you Tribe Of Ignoramus sway; Who by Malicious Plots contriv'd To drive the Heir away, (As you did once before to France) An Exile o're the Sea; Who (to your grief) did home advance Great York and Albany.

8.

And may He, with the Joys He wed, Together flourish still; And live to crush the Serpents head, Whose Sting did pierce his heel, Till Rebels tremble at his Name, And all the Land agree, The just Succession to Procliam Of York and Albany.

The Riddle of the Roundhead.

To the Tune, Now at last the Riddle is Expounded.

1.

NOw at last the Riddle is Expounded, Which so long the Nation has confoun∣ded, For the Roundhead Begins the Game again, Which so well they play'd in Forty four, Now with greater hope; For the fine Sham-plots will ne'r give over, Till they piously have routed King and Pope.

2.

Anthony that worm of Reformation, Who of Commonwealth has laid Foundation, Which the Nation So hotly does pursue; Let him be rewarded in the Tower, For his Merits due: By that busie Plotting head laid lower, We may perhaps escape what might ensue.

3.

Perkin make fine legs to the shouting Rabble, Who to make him King he thinks are able; But the Bauble Is only shew'd for use: The silly Idiot serves but for a Tool still, For Knaves to work their Feats, And will remain but a dull mistaken Fool still, For all their damn'd Cabals & Wapping Treats.

4.

The most zealous Parliament devoted, For the Publick good devoutly voted, Pray note it, That the Duke must ne'er be King; And like honest faithfull loyal Subjects, His Majesty implore, To sign their Pious and Religious Projects, Or else the threatn'd King must reign no more.

5.

The renowned work of Reformation, To be carry'd on throughout the Nation, In a Passion They Vote the Canons down: Acts and Statutes all must be confounded, Law and Justice too,

To make way for the proud rebellious roundhead That they once more the Nation may undo.

6.

Lords and Bishops both are useless Voted, And the factious crew who gravely Plotted, Are noted For Lords and Commons too, Whigs and Brumighams with shams and stories, Are True Protestants, And Protestants are Masquerates and Tories, The Modern Reformation of the Saints.

7.

Old Queen Bess that made the best Indentures, Good King Jemmy too against Dissenters, He ventures▪ To turn them out of doors; To take in Quakers Puritans and Ranters, The Parliament implores, To build a Kirk of Whigs and Covenanters, And make a Lawful Race of Sons of Whores.

8.

Rowley now with Wisdom and grave Reason, To prevent the swift approaching Treason, In season Put a period to their strife; In Oxford all their stratagem•• confounded, The Roguish Joyner too; And may no better Fate attend the Roundhead, That wou'd the Church and Monarchy subdue.

6.

Oxford Loyal Youths who scorn to sham us, With a perjur'd Bill of Ignoramus, Or name us For Loyal, Traytors known;

Soon found a flaw i'th bottom of the Joyner, By Justice and the Laws, Of Church and Commonwealth an Under∣miner, Who fell a Martyr in the Good Old Cause.

10.

Now for shame ye Zealots be confounded, Boast no more Allegiance, since a Roundhead Is grounded Upon the Holy Sham: How dare ye talk of Loyalty, a Hater Of Justice, King and Laws, Since the Whiggish Protestant is found a Tray∣tor, And dies a Martyr in the Good Old Cause.

Ignoramus: An Excellent Song.

To the Tune of, Lay by your Pleading

1

SInce Reformation With Whig's in Fashion, There's neither Equity nor Justice in the Na∣tion, Against their Furies, There no such Cure is, As lately hath been wrought by Ignoramus-Juries. Compaction of Faction That breeds all Distraction, Is at the Zenith Point, but will not bear an Action. They sham us, and flam us, And ram us, and damn us, And then in spight of Law, come off with Ignoramus.

2

Oh, how they Plotted, Brimi••hams Voted

And all the Mobile the Holy Cause promoted; They preach'd up Treason, At ev'ry season, And taught the Multitude Rebellion was but Reason, With Breaches, Impeaches, And most Loyal Speeches, With Royal Bloud again to glut the thirsty Leeches. They sham us and flam us, &c.

3

'Tis such a Jury Wou'd pass no Tory, Were he as Innocent as a Saint in Glory: But let a Brother Ravish his Mother, Assassinate his King, he wou'd find no other. They shamed, and blamed, At Loyallists aimed; But when a Whig's repriev'd the Town with Beacons flamed They sham us and flam us, &c.

4

This Ignoramus With which they sham us, Wou'd find against a York, to raise a M—th∣amus Who clears a Traytor; And a King Hater Against his Lawful Prince wou'd find suffici∣ent matter They sought it, and wrought it, Like Rebels they fought it, And with the price of Royal Martyrs blood they bought it▪ They sham us, and flam us, &c.

5

At the Old-Baily, Where Rogues flock daily, A greater Traytor far then Coleman, White or Staley

Was late Indicted, Witnesses cited, But then he was set free; so the King was righted 'Gainst Princes, Offences Prov'd in all senses; But 'gainst a Whig there's no Truth in Evi∣dences▪ They sham us, and flam us, &c.

6

But wot you what, Sir? They found it not, Sir; 'Twas ev'ry Jurors Case, and there lay all the Plot, Sir. For at this season, Shou'd they do reason, Which of themselves wou'd scape, if they found it Treason? Compassion in fashion, The Int'rest of th' Nation Oh, what a Godly point is self-preservation! They sham us, and flam us, &c.

7

'Las what is Conscience In Baxter's own sense, When Int'rest lies at stake, an Oath and Law is Nonsense. Now they will banter Quaker and Ranter, To find a Loyallist, and clear a Covenanter. They'l wrangle and brangle, The Soul intangle, To save the Traytors Neck from the old Tri∣angle. They flam us, and sham us, &c.

8

Alass! for pitty Of this good City, What will the Tories say in their drunken Dity? When all Abettors.

And Monarch-haters, The Brethren damn'd their Souls to save Ma∣licious Traytors But mind it, long winded, With prejudice blinded, Lest what they did reject, another Jury find it Then sham us, and flam us. And ram us, and damn us. When against King and Law you find an Ignoramus

London's Loyalty,

To a Pleasant New Tune, Call'd Burton-Hall.

1

ROwze up Great Genius Of this Potent Land, Lest Traytors once more Get the upper hand; The Rebel Crowd their Former Tenents own, And Treason worse than Plagues Infect the Town: The Sneaking Mayor And his two Pimping Shreeves, Who for their honesty No better are then Theeves; Fall from their Sov'raigns side, To Court the Mobile, Oh! London, London, Where's thy Loyalty?

2

First, Yorkshire Patience Twirls his Copper Chain; And hopes to see a Commonwealth again; The Sneaking Fool

Of breaking is affraid▪ Dares not change•• is side For fear he lose his Trade; Then Loyal Slingsby Does their Fate Divine— He that Abjur'd the King▪ Bnd all his Sacred Line, And is suppos'd His Fathers Murderer to be; Oh! Bethel, Bethel, Where's thy Loyalty?

3

A most Noto••ious Villain Late was caught, And after to the Bar Of Justice brought; But ••lingsby pack••r a Jury Of his own, Of worser Rogues then e're Made Gallows groan•• Then Dugdales Evidence was soon decry'd, That was s•• just, and honest•• When Old Stafford dy'd: Now was a perjur'd Villain, And he ly'd. Oh! Justice, Justice, Where's thy Equity?

4

Now Cl—ton, murmures Treason, unprovok'd, First sup'd the King, and after Wish'd him choak't, 'Cause Danby's Place was

Well bestow'd before, He Rebel turns, seduc'd By Scarlet Whore; His sawcy Pride aspires To High Renown, Leather Breeches are forgot In which he trudg••d to Town, Nought but the Treasury Can please the scribling Clown Oh! Robin, Robin, Where••s thy Modesty?

5

Pl—er now grows dull, And pines for want of Whore; Poor Creswel, she can take His word no more, Three Hundred Pounds, Is such a heavy yoak, Which not being pay'd, The worn out Bawd is broak, These are the Instruments By Heaven sent, These are the Saints Petition For a Parliament: That would for Interest sake, Destroy the Monarchy: Oh! London, London, Where's thy Loyalty?

6

Heaven Bless Fair England, And i'ts Monarch here, In Scotland, Bless your High Commissioner, Let Perkin his ungracious Error see

And Tony scape no more The Triple Tree: Then Peace and plenty Shall our joyes restore, Villains and Factions Shall oppress the Town no more. But every Loyal Subject Then shall happy be, Nor need we care For Londons Loyalty.

The Loyal Health. A Court Song,

to a Delicate new Tune.

1.

SInce Plotting's a Trade, Like the rest of the Nation: Let 'em Lie and Swear on, To keep up the Vocation; Let Tinkers and Weavers, And Joyners agree▪ To find work for the Cooper, They'l have none of me, Let Politick Shams, In the States-men abound, While we quaff off our Bumpers, And set the Glass round: The jolly true Toper's The best Subject still, Who drinks off his Liquor, And thinks no more ill.

2.

Then let us stand to't, And like honest Men fall, Who love King and Country▪ Duke, Dutchess and all: Not such as wou'd blow up The Nation by stealth, And out of the flame Raise a new Commonwealth: Not such, who against Church And Bishops do rage, To advance old Jack Presbyter, on the new Stage. But to all honest Tories Who'l fight for their King, And to Crown the brave work, With the Court wee'l begin.

3.

Here's a Health to the King, And his Lawful Successors To honest Tantivies, And Loyal Addressors; But a pox take all those, That promoted Petitions▪ To Poyson the Nation, And stir up Seditions▪ Here's a Health to the Queen, And her Ladies of Honour, And a pox take all those, that put Sham plots upon her. Here's a Health to the Duke, And the Senate of Scotland, And to all honest Men, That from Bishops ne're got-Land.

4

Here's a Health to L'estrange, And the boon Heraclitus: And true Tory Thompson, Who never did slight us, And forgetting Broom, Paulin, And Alderman Wrightus, With Tony and Bethel, Ignoramus and Titus; Here's a Health to the Church, And all those that are for it, Confusion to Zealots, And Whigs that abhor it, May it ever be safe, From the new mode Refiners: And may Justice be done Upon Coopers and Joyners.

5.

Here's a Health to old Hall—, Who our joys did restore; And a pox take each popular Son of a Whore; To the Spaniard and Dane, The brave Russian and Moor, Who come from far Nations, Our King to adore, To all that do Worship, The God of the Vine, And to old Jolly Bowman Who draws us good Wine; And as for all Traytors, Whether Baptist or Whig, May they all trot to Tyburn, To dance the old Jig.

6

Here's a Health to all those, Who Love the King and his Laws, And may they near Pledge it That Broach'd the Old Cause Here's a Health to the State, And a Plague on the Pack Of Commonwealth Canters▪ And Presbyrer Jack; To the uppermost pendent That ever did play On the highest Top-gallant Oth' Soveraign o'th' Sea; And he that denies To the Standard to lore, May he sink in the Ocean, And never Drink more.

The Loyal Scot; an Excellent New Song,

To a New Scotch Tune.

1.

BRed of Gued! I think the Nation's ma•• And nene but Knaves and perjur'd Loo•• do rule the Rost; And for an honest Kerl ne living's to be had Why sure the Deel is landed on the Engl•• Coast. I ha' ne'r been here sin' Forty Three, And now thro' Scotland gang, to'l see o•• Gracious KING; But wunds a Gued! instead of Mirth an•• Mery-glee, I find and s••iv'ling Presbyter is coming in.

2.

For they talk of horrid Popish Plots, and Heav'n knows what, When au the wiser World knows well what they'd be at; For with sike like seeming Sanctity the geud∣est KING They did to Death and Ruine bring.

When on the Civil-broils they first did enter in, (As well ye ken) with Popery they did begin▪ And with Liberty and Publick Geud was muckle din, When the Deel a bit they meant the Thing.

3▪

That Machine of monstrous Policy, Ise mean old Shaftsbury for Loyalty so ••am'd The voice of all the Geudly Rabble Mobile, The fausest Loon that ever Envy destin'd Damn'd

Heav'n sure never meant so fou a thing, But to inform the world where Villany did dwell: And sike a Traytor beath to Commonwealth and KING The muckle Deel did surely never hatch in Hell.

4.

For, like Roman Cataline, to gain his Pious Ends, He pimps for au the loose Rebellious Fops in Toon:

And with Treats and Treason daily crams his City Friends, From the Link••man to the Scarlet-Goon.

And with high Debauchery they carry on the CAUSE, And Guedly Reformation is the Sham pretence▪ And Religiously defie Divine and Humane Laws, With Obedience to their Rightful Prince.

5.

Then, as SPEAKER, to this Grand Cabal, Old Envy Tony, seated at the head o••th' Board, His learn'd Oration for Rebellion makes to All, Applauded and approv'd by ev'ry Factious LORD.

Cully JEMMY then they vote for KING, Whom Curse confound for being sike a sense∣less Loon Can they who did their Lawful Lord to th' Scaffold bring Be just to Him, that has no Title to a Croon?

6.

But they find he's a Blockhead fitting for their Use, A FOOL by Nature, and a KNAVE by Cu∣stom grown. A Gay Fop-Monarch, that the Rabble may abuse And their bus'ness done, will soon unthrone.

And Jemmy swears and vows, 'gan he can get the Croon,

He by the Laws of Forty Ene will guided be: And Prophane Lawn-sleeves and Surplices a∣gain must doon, Then hey for and PRESBYTERY.

7.

B—m a States-man would be thought, And reason geud that he should bear that rev'rend Name, Since he was ene of them that first began the PLOT, How he the King might Banter, and three Kingdoms Sham.

Au the Male-Contents His Noble Grace To this Rehearsal did invite, to hear and see: But, whilst He wittily contriv'd it but a Farce, The busier Noddles turn'd it into Tragedy.

8.

And now each Actor does begin to play his part, And too so well he cons his Geer, and takes his Cue, Till they learn to play the Rebel so by rote of heart, That the fictitious Story seems most True.

And now, without controll, they apprehend and hang And with the Nation au is Gospel that they swear: Then, bonny Jockey, prithee back to'l Scotland gang, For a Loyal Lad's in danger here.

The State Empirick, a New Song.

To the Tune of, Which no body can deny.

1.

FRom over the Seas not long since there came, A Doctor of most Notorious Fame, If you please you may guess at his Ʋn-Christian name. which no body can deny.

2.

This Doctor came hither to cure three Na∣tions. Who were so silly as to be his Patients; And first he Blooded 'em for the Fashions. Which no body can deny.

3.

The Med'cine he brought was called a PLOT, Which was Compounded of the Devil knows what: When first he Arriv'd it was Piping-Hot. Which, &c.

4.

But if we may guess at the Damn'd Composition▪ 'Twas a mess of all sorts of English Sedition, Made up by a Presbyterian Physician. Which, &c.

5.

To make each Dose go down the safer, What do's the still this Learned Gaffer, But cover it o'r with a Papist••s Wafer. Which, &c.

6.

As soon as 'twas Swallow'd, the Patient began To Stare and to Talk like a Lunatick Man,

Of Pistols and Daggers, to Kill and Trapan. Which, &c.

7.

To some 'twas Emetick, to others Cathartick, (I mean, to all those who of it did partake,) In short, it made every Honest Mans heart-ake. Which, &c.

8.

To say truth we were all in a filthy Condition This voided a Libel, that Spew'd a Petition, For which we may thank in part our Physician. Which, &c.

9.

At last it made our Bloud so ferment, That a Rancorous Sore from Men's Body's was sent: The Ʋlcer, I mean, of a strange Parliament. Which, &c.

10.

It's Venom upon each Member was shed; The Body it almost had over-spread, Nay, it had e••en like to have seiz'd on the Head. Which, &c.

11.

But one wiser then all, did giv't such a Thump, That it burst and went out, just next to the Rump. Which made with Joy ev'ry Loyal Heart Jump. Which▪ &c.

12.

This Ʋlcer was full of Pistol and Sword, With Blunderbuss and with your things made of Board, Your Protestant Flayls to Fight for the Lord. Which, &c

13.

O Doctor! I fear, you study'd Art Magick, To Compass your Ends, which still were so Tragick: But now it is hop'd that we may lead You a Jig. Which, &c.

14.

Or else I am sure, without being uncivil, A Man my believe you deal with the Devil, For no body else could have wrought us such Evil. Which, &c.

15.

Your Canting was Charm, Rebellion your Witch, With these you gave the Poor Rabble the Itch, When like Emp'rick on Stage you made 'em a Speech. Which, &c.

16.

Y'are Jilted you see by Faction your Whore, Your little Tap-Pug can help you no more: Hell ow's Both a Spite, and will pay ye the score. Which no body can deny.

Titus Tell-Troth: A Song

to the Tune of, Hail to the Myrile Shades.

1.

HAil to the Knight of the Post; To Titus the Chief of the Town Titus who vainly did boast Of the Salamancha Gown; Titus who saw the world o're, From the Tower of Valadolid, Yet stood in the White-horse Door, And swore to it, like the Creed.

2.

Titus at Watton in May, To Titus at Islington; And Titus the self same day Both Here and There again. Titus who never swore Truth, His Politick Plots to maintain, And never yet bawk'd an Oath, When call'd to the Test again.

3.

Then Titus was Meekest of all, When Never a Peny in's Purse, And oft did on Pickering call, His Charity to Imburse. But when he swore Damnable Oaths, And Lying esteemed no Sin, Then Titus was One of those Whom the Devil had entred in.

4.

Then Titus the Frown of Heav'n, And Titus a Plague upon Earth; Titus who'l ne'r be Forgiven, Curs'd from his Fatal Birth; Titus the Curse and the Doom Of the Rich and the Poor Man too; Oh Titus, thou Shred of a Loom, What a plague dost thou mean to do?

5.

Titus an Orthodox Beast, And Titus a Presbyter Tall; Titus a Popish Priest, And Titus the shame of all; Titus who ne'r had the skill The Wise with his Plots to deceive

But Titus whose Tongue can kill; Whom Nature has made a Sla▪

6.

Titus the Light of the Town, Where Zealots and Whigs do resort; Titus the Shame of the Gown, And Titus the Scorn of the Court; Titus who Spew'd out the Truth, To Swallow the Covenant; Yet never blush'd at an Oath, Whom Lying has made a Saint.

7.

Yet Titus believed cou'd be Against any Popish Lord; Whilst still ag••inst Shaftsbury The Witness and Truth••s abhor'd; So Titus got Credit and Gold For Lying, an thought it no Sin; But against Dissenters bold The Truth is not worth a pin.

8.

Thus Titus Swore on a pace, 'Gainst those whom he never did see; Yet Titus with brazen Face Wou'd our Preserver be. But as Titus the foremost in Trust Discover'd this Mistery: May Titus so be the First That leads to the Triple-Tree.

The Compleat Swearing-Master:

To the Tune of, Now now the Fight's done.

1.

ONce on a time, the Dr. did Swea••, By the help of his Friend the Prince of the Air. He was busie in Consult, one day in Spain, And on the same day in England again, And the Dr. did wear that Noble Don John, Though little and Fair, was a tall black Man.

2.

The Dr. Swore he brought Commissions to Town From Father Oliva, to men of Renown: To raise mighty Force, the King to destroy, For which many Ruffians the Pope did imploy; And the Dr. did Swear that little Don John, Was Black, and also a very tall Man.

3.

That forty thousand Pilgrims there were, Arm'd with Black Bills, that march'd in the Air And ready to strike when the Pope should com∣mand, And carry to Rome poor little England. And the Dr. did Swear as few others can, That little Don John is a tall black Man.

4.

And the Dr. did Swear he had Letters full ma∣ny But for all he Swore, he ne'r produc'd any, It's much he kept none to make out the matter But it may be he lost them, in crossing the Water; But that's all one the Dr. Swore on, That little Don John was a tall black Man.

5.

He swore two hundred thousand pounds sent To Ireland, which was all to be Spent: In Squibs to burn houses, Amunition and Bills, And pay Popish Doctors for King Killing Pills: Which he swore had been done if the Plot had gon on, And then Swore Don John a very tall Man.

6.

And the Dr. did swear he knew not some men, Yet afterwards swore, he knew them again; And the Dr. did Swear by the fair candle-light He could not discern a Man from a Mite: But believe him who will, for I hardly can, That little Don John is a tall black Man.

7.

And he swore he always a Protestant was, And ne'r car'd a Fart for Pope or for Mass, And he Swore he went to St. Omers to find What the Jesuits had against England design'd. And the Dr. did swear, deny it who can, That little Don John was a tall black Man

8.

And the Dr. did swear a thousand things more That discovering the plot had made him so poor, And he swore himself 700 pounds worse, But a pox of all lies, take that with a curse: But I le not beleiv't, although others can, That little Don John is a tall black Man.

9.

Now if it should please the Dr. to swear To keep his hand in, a Man is a Bear; Or the Dr. will swear his Soul to the Devil, He wall do it for me, I love to be Civil;

Every man in his way, let the Dr. swear on, But I beg his excuse in the size of Don John.

10.

The Dr. may swear the Crow to be white, Or a Pigmey to be of Gygantick height, Or double his numbers of Pilgrims and Bills, And swear them drawn up in Lincolns-Inn-fields. I hear't and believ't as much as I can, That little Don John is a tall black Man,

11.

There's no stopping the tide, let the Dr. swear on. The black is the fair, or the fair the black Man, Or swear what he will I care not a T—, I'de as soon as his, take another mans word: So Dr. be damn'd and Swear all you can, Don John is not tall, nor yet a black Man:

A Tory in a Whig's Coat:

To the Tune of, Ʋp with Aley, &c.

1.

WHat! still ye Whigs uneasie! Will nothing coll your Brain, Unless Great Charles, to please-ye, Will let ye drive his Wain? Then up with Prance and Oats, And up with Knaves a pair; But down with him that Votes Against a Lawful Heir.

2.

Your Grievance is remov'd, Old Staufford's made a Saint,

Though you but little prov'd, The Karle away you sent. Then up with all your spight, And shevv us vvhat you mean; I fear me, by this Light, Ye long to vent your Spleen.

3.

That Peerless House af Commons. So zealous for the Lord, Meant (piously) vvith some on's To flesh the Godly Sword: Then up vvith au the Leaven, With each Dissenting Loon, Then up with Bully Stephen; But Colledge is gone doon.

4.

What wou'd those Loons have had? What makes 'em still to mutter? I think thy're au gone mad, They keep so muckle clutter: Then up with Pilk and Sute, Another Blessed Pair; And up with e'ry Brute; But chiefly Goatham's Mayo▪

5.

Our Salamancha-Priest Has left his Flock in hast; And shrevvdly is he mist; Which makes us all gast: Then up vvith Lads of vvorth, With Baldwin, V••le and Care; For these must novv hold forth, And Dick shall nose a Pray'r.

But is our Parson gone; And whither gone I trow? What, back agen to Spain? Gued Faith e'n let him go: Then up with blundering S. The Tories Plague, I trow; 'Tis he our Cause must bless With Characters, and so.—

7.

But scurvy Heraclitus, And Roger too is rude, And Nat, who plagues poor Titus, Which makes us chew the Cud: Then up with Associations, Remonstrances and Libels; 'Tis these must save Three Nations, And will presreve our Bibles

8.

The Popish Fox does seem To sleep his time away; But his pernicious Dream Is only to Betray: Then up with How. the Mole, And many more that be; But up with Little Pole Upon the highest Tree.

9.

Hieraclitus is a Debtor, To some within the City, Who sent him sike a Letter, He'l pay them in a Ditty: Then up with au Dissenters, Up with 'em in a Cart: And up with him that ventures His Majesty to thwart.

10.

But now Great YORK is come, (Whom Heaven still be with) You'll find (both all and some) 'Twas ill to shew your Teeth: Then up with e••ry Round-head, And e'ry Factious Brother, You're Luck is now confounded. Ye au must up together.

The Protestant FLAYL:

To the Tune of, Lacy's Maggot; Or, The Hobby-Horse.

1.

LIsten a while, and I'l tell you a Tale Of a new Device of a Protestant Flayl; With a Thump, Thump, Thump, a Thump, Thump, a Thump, Thump. This FLAYL it was made of the finest vvood, Well lin'd vvith Lead, and notable good, For splitting of Brains, and shedding of bloud Of all that withstood, With a Thump, Thump, &c.

2.

This Flayl vvas invented to thrash the Brain, And leave behind not the vvait of a grain, With a Thump, &c. At the handle-end there hung a Weight, That carried vvith it unavoidable Fate, To take the Monarch a rap in the Pate, And govern the State. With a Thump, &c.

3.

It took its degree in Oxford-Town, And with the Carpenter went down, With a Thump, &c. If any durst his Might oppose, He had you close, in spight of your Nose, To carry on clever the Good Old Cause, And down with the Laws, With a Thump, &c.

4

With this they threatned to fore-stall The Church, and give the Bishops a Mawl With a Thump, &c. If King and Lords would not submit To the Joyner's will while the House did sit, If this in the right place did hit, The cause it would split, With a Thump, &c.

5.

Two handfuls of Death, with a Thong hung fast, By a Zealot who hang'd himself at last, With a Thump, &c. With a moving head both stiff and stout, Found by the Protestant Joyner out, To have at the King & the Laws t'other bout▪ And turn them both out, With a Thump, &c.

6.

Invinsibly 'twou'd deal his Blovvs, All to maintain the Good Old Cause, With a Thump, &c Wou'd Liberty and Freedom bring To every thing except the King, At Monarchy it had a fling,

And took its svving, With a Thump, &c.

7.

This Flayl vvas made of the Nevvest Fashion, To heal the Breaches of the Nation, With a Thump, &c. If Faction any difference bred, T••vvon'd split the Cause in the very Head, Till Monarchy reel'd, and Loyalty bled, And vvere knock'd in the Head, With a Thump, &c.

8.

When any Strife vvas in the State, This Flayl vvou'd end the vvhole Debate, With a Thump, &c. 'Gainst Arbitrary Power of State, And Popery vvhich the Zealots hate, It vvou'd give them such a Rap on the Pate, They must yield to their Fate, With a Thump, &c.

9.

It had a thousand Virtues more, And had a Salve for every Sore, With a Thump, &c. With this they thought to have maintain'd, The Loyal Tribe, and Royalists brain'd: But the Joyner vvas hang'd, and the Flayl vvas Arraign••d And the Conquest Regain'd, With a Thump, &c.

10.

May Tony and all our Enemies, Meet vvith no better Fate then his, With a Thump, &c.

May Charles still live to Rule the State, And York, (vvhom all Dissenters hate) To be reveng'd upon their Pate, By timely fate, With a Thump, Thump, Thump a Thump, Thump, a Thump, Thump.

IGNORAMUS••Justice,

To the Tune of, Sir Egledemore.

1.

DId you not hear of a Peer that was Try'd? With a fa▪ la, la, la, la. That looks like a Cask with a Tap in his side; With a fa, la, la, la, la. This Noble Peer to the Bar was call'd; The Witnessses sworn, but the Fore-man out∣baul'd; With a fa, la, la, la, la.

2.

Then up Sir Samuel did start; With a fa, la, &c. And found the Bill not worth a F—; With a fa, la, &c. With that the Court kept such a stir, The Fore-man should prove so s••yll a Sir, With a fa, la, &c.

3.

The Witnesses for the King swore plain; With a fa, la, &c. But had they been as many again; With a fa, la, &c. The Jury before such Truths receiv'd, Nor them, nor St. Peter they wou'd have be∣liev'd; With a fa, la, &c.

4.

The Witnesses brought him a Traytor in; With a fa, la, &c. But the Jury found it another thing; With a fa, la, &c. For he who did still his King oppose, Is made a true Subject in spight of the Laws; With a fa, la, &c.

5.

Thus this Great Lord of High Renown; With a fa, la, &c. Th' Exalted Idol of the Town; With a fa, la, &c. Is clear'd by Ignoramus-sway, For Betraying the Church and the King in a day, With a fa, la, &c.

6.

The Rabble to shew their Loyalty; With a fa, la, &c. Did in full shouts with the Jury agree; With a fa, la, &c. They Bonfires made with great applause, And all to maintain the Good Old Cause; With a fa, la, &c.

7.

And now in spight of King and Queen; With a fa, la, &c. More Jollity was in the Streets to be seen; With a fa, la, &c. Then on the Twenty Ninth of May, Though it was the Restauration-day; With a fa, la, &c.

8.

Another passage I chanc••d to hear; With a fa, la, &c. That the Doctor is fallen from the Front to the Rear; With a fa, la, &c. He to the Saints does now incline, Abjures the King, with the Rebels Combines; VVith a fa, la, &c▪

9.

Yet these pretend now for to Inherit; VVith a fa, la, &c. (As Heirs do Estates) the Light of the Spirit; VVith a fa, la, &c. Yet let them say or do what they will, They'l find themselves Ignoramus still; VVith a fa, la, &c.

10.

But had it been a Popish Lord; VVith a fa, la, &c. One Witness then had serv'd in a word; VVith a fa, la, &c. They had not then enquir'd so far; But found it, and never have stept from the Bar VVith a fa, la, &c.

11.

If by this Law the Charter be lost; With a fa, la, &c. Will Tony's Estate repay all the Cost? With a fa, la, &c. The Boys will then find out the Cheat. And de De Witt the old Cam••al in his Re∣treat; With a fa, la, &c.

12.

They'l Curse that Pate that studied to bring; With a fa, la, &c. Plague to the Country, and Ruine to th' King; With a fa, la, &c. Divested thus of Citophel's Pride, They'l do him that Justice which Juries deny'd With a fa, la, &c.

The Loyal Feast••;

to the Tune of Sawney will never be my Love again.

1.

TONY was small, but of Noble Race, And was beloved of ev'ry one; He Broach'd his Tap, and it ran apace To make a Solemn Treat for all the Town He sent to Yeoman, Knight, and Lord, The Holy Tribe to Entertain With all the Nation cou'd afford, But Tony will never be himself again.

2.

He sent to the Shambles for all their Store, And left behind neither Fowl nor Beast; The Spiggot ran swift and fain wou'd do more To make all the Lords a Noble Feast; He sent to Market, sent to Fair, His Loyal Guests to entertain, But of the Banquet he had no share, And Tony will never be himself again.

3.

At two great Halls in London Town, Design'd to meet a Zealous Crew Of Lords and Knights of High Renown, And all were Protestants True Blue.

They threw in Guineys free as Brass, The Noble Frolick to Maintain, But on Great Charles the Sham wou'd not pass And Tony will &c.

4.

With Duty to their Lawful Prince, A Loyal Subject every one; To pray for him is the Pretence, And then to Rail and Plot against the Crown From Church they did intend to th' Hall, Their Noble Guests to Entertain; But they were Routed, Horse and all, And Tony &c.

5.

In favour of the King and Duke, The Heir-Apparent of the Throne, His Highness they Exclude, and took A Fop-Pretender of their own; The meek Guide Moses they withstand, A Golden Calf to Entertain; But Royal Charles he dispers'd the Band, And Tony, &c.

6.

The Bloody Papists shall no more Contrive against his Life and Reign: Tho' it was themselves did the Feat before, And are as ready to do't again. Thus they Exclude the Rightful Heir, The Gaudy Fop to Entertain, But they were met by the good Lord Mayor, And Tony &c.

7.

With thanks and Pray'rs for our good King They Vow'd to Sacrifice the Day;

But Royal Charles he smoak'd out the thing; And sent the Rable with a Pox away. He sent his Summons to the Cit, Seditious Meetings to Restrain, The Feast was broke, and the Guests were besh—, And Tony &c.

8

And now the Capons flye about, With Frigaces of Ambergreece, And Chickens ready drest they Shout About the Street for pence a piece: The Whigs did wish the Council choak'd, Who did this Noble Feast restrain; All down in the Mouth to be thus bawk'd, Poor Tony will never be himself again.

Old Jemmey.

Tune of, Young Jemmey.

1.

OLd Jemmy is a Lad Right lawfully descended; No Bastard born nor bred, Nor for a Whig suspended: The true and Lawful Heir to th' Crown, By Right of Birth and Laws, And bravely will maintain his own, In spight of all his Foes.

2.

Old Jemmy is the Top And Chief amongst the Princes; No Mobile gay Fop, With Brimigham pretences: A Heart and Soul so wondrous great And such a conqu'ring Eye, That every Loyal Lad fears not In Jemmy's Cause to die.

Old Jemmy is a Prince Of Noble Resolutions. Whose Powerful influence Can order our Confusions: But Oh! He fights with such a Grace No Force can him withstand; No God of War but must give place Where Jemmy leads the Van

4.

To Jemmy every Swain Does pay due Veneration; And Scotland does maintain His Title to the Nation: The Pride of all the Court he stands The Patron of his Cause, The Joy and Hope of all his Friends The terrour of his Foes.

5.

Maliciously they Vote, To work Old Jemmy's Ruin, And zealously promote A Bill for his undoing: Both Lords and Commons most a∣gree To pull His Highness down; But ('spight of all their Policy) Old Jemmy's Heir to th' Crown.

6.

The Schismatick and Saint, The Baptist and the Athiest, Swear by the Covenant, Old Jemmy is a Papist; Whilst all the Holy Crew did plot To pull His Highness down, Great Albany a Noble Scot Did raise unto a Crown.

7.

Great Albany they swear, He before any other, Shall be immediate Heir Unto His Royal Brother, Who will in spight of all his Foes, His Lawful Rights maintain, And all the Fops that interpose, Old Jemmy's York again.

8.

The Whigs and Zealots Plot To banish him the Nation, But the Renowned Scot Hath wrought his Restauration. With high respects they treat his Grace His Royal Cause maintain; Brave Albany (to Scotland's Praise) Is Mighty York again.

9.

Against his envious Fates The Kirk hath taught a Lesson; A Blessing on the States, To settle the Succession. They real were, both Knight and Lord And will his Rights maintain; By Royal Parliament restor'd, Old Jemmy's come again.

10.

And now He's come again, In spight of all Pretenders, Great Albany shall Reign Amongst the Faiths Defenders.

Let Whig and Brimigham repine; They shew their Teeth in vain; The Glory of the Brittish Line, Old Jemmy's come again.

The Honour of Great York and Albany,

to a new Tune.

1.

THe Commons now are at a stand, And evermore I hope shall be; For Scotland will be a help at hand, For Great James Duke of Al-ba-ny. For Scotland,

2.

A braver Nation he can't have, For Love, for Truth, for Loyalty; Each Man will Fight into his Grave, For great James Duke of Albany. Each man, &c.

3.

A Souldier stout is he, and brave, As ever any man did see, God bless the King, and Queen, and Save Our Great James, Duke of Albany, God bless, &c.

4.

He very Wise, and Pious is, There's no Man knows the Contrary; Then Damn'd be him that thinks amiss, Of Great James Duke of Albany. Then Damn'd &c.

5▪

All Loyal Subjects him must love, The Heir Apparent, still is he,

Next to the King, there's none above Our Great James Duke of Albany. Next to the King, &c.

6.

Then let our Reason our ill Will sway, And every man upon his Knee, I do not mean to drink, but Pray, For Great James Duke of Albany. I do not mean, &c.

7.

There's no man is so mad to think, That Drinking can availing be, 'Tis better for to Fight than Drink, For Great James Duke of Albany. 'Tis better, &c.

8.

Yet do not think I'll bawk his Health, But with my cup, most moderately, I'll drink, I'll fight, and spend my wealth, For Great James Duke of Albany. I'll Drink, I'll fight, and spend, &c.

The Well-wishers to the Royal Family.

To a New Tune.

1.

NOw the Tories, that Glories In Royal Jemmy's return, The Tavern shall Roar it and Score it, Your Caps and Bonnets burn: Let the Lads and Lasses Set foot foot in their Turn; And he that passes his Glasses, May he never Scape the Horn:

Royal James is come again, There's for honest men room again, The true Heir is come again; Fop Pretenders we scorn, Then Hey Boys laugh it, and quaff it, Let Whigs and Zealots mourn.

2.

Let Impeaches and Speeches Be with the Authors pull'd down; And all that Preaches or Teaches Against the Heir of the Crown: No more the Zealous shall tell us Of the Succession of the Throne; Till the Rebellious so Zealous, His lawful Interest own: Monarchy is got up again, Every Man take his Cup again, Till we make the Whigs stoop again: Who our Peace wou'd enthrall: And every Rebel that Libel'd, Do at his Foot stool fall,

3.

Let's be Loyal and Joy-al, Spite of each Factious Caball, Who daily deny all, defie all, That we can Loyalty call; Who Smoaking, and Soaking, With the return of the Rump, Sadly Looking, sit Croaking, To see it Wore to'th' Stump; Then set the Glass Round again, For our time let's not spend in vain, But let us now Drink a Main, Fill it up to the Brim:

Come round Boys let's Trowl it & Bowl it, Till our Joys they do swim.

4.

For Him our Choices and Voices, Shall all hereafter be free, Whilst each one Rejoyces, our Noises Shall defend the Raging o'th Sea; We'l attend him, befriend him, Let Malice Vote what it will; Coyn we'l Lend Him, Defend Him, And we'l rejoyce in Him still: Then let us no Mirth refrain, Since that now he is safe again, Well having escap'd the Main; From the Salt Waters set free, Then Hey Boys laugh it, and quaff it, And let us Mery be.

5.

Though the Zealous, grow Jealous, And Create much needless fear, By which means they'd Drill us and Will us. Like themselves to appear; But no Wonder, since Plunder, Is that at which they aim, That the Whigs wander under Religious Guile, which they Shame: But at last we have found them, And from the bottom unwound them, So that each man may found them, And laugh at the Old Cause, Which was the Ruine and undoing, Of King and Kingdoms Laws.

6.

Then let's Rout 'em and Flout 'em, Who rails at the Succession,

That would Rout Him whom we so esteem, Beyond all Expression; Fill Clarret, who's for it? And let each Bumper go round, Who doth bar it, or spare it May he with Goats Horns be Crown'd: Here's a Health to the Dutchess, Grant her long Life, Health, and Riches, And a Young Prince is all our wishes, Whilst all the Factious Repine Then come away wi't, ne'r stay it, Let no man baulk his Wine.

London's Joy and Loyalty On His Royal Highnesses Return from Scotland.

1.

ROuze up ye Tories Of this Factious Land, Now Loyalty Hath got the Upper-hand: The Rabble-rout Their Errours shall disclaim, And Homage pay To York's Illustrious Name; The London Mayor Is faithful to his Trust, And the two present Sh'riffs Wou'd fain be counted Just; And every Factious Rebel Through the Town agree To shew the heighth Of London's Loyalty.

2.

Now the loud Threatning Tempest is dispers'd, And all their shamming Plots Are quite revers'd; Great Jemmy's happy Restauration here Makes a new day In London••s Hemisphere: The Clouds are gone That did oppress his Reign, And joyful day breaks forth In this glad Land again. Then to the Mighty Duke Of York and Albany Now London, London, Shew thy Loyalty.

3.

A Royal Pair With their Illustrious Train, To London's Joy Are now Return'd again; Great Gracious Charles Does in the Front appear, And Princely York Advances in the Rear; The Right Successor Is Return'd again, Whom former Faction Sent an Exile o'r the Main, Then to the Mighty Duke Of York and Albany Now London, London Shew thy Loyalty.

4.

Heave'n Bless the King, Preserve the Lawful Heir, Let ••ories Sing, And Brimighams Despair: To see Great York Invested in his own, Spight of all Fop Pretenders to the Throne; Then Truth and Justice Shall our Joys restore; Associations shall Destroy our Peace no more, But to our Gracious King, With York and Albany All Subjects seek▪ To shew their Loyalty.

The Tory Song on His Highness Re∣turn from Scotland.

To the Tune of, The Prince of Orange's Delight.

1.

ROom, room for Cavaliers, bring us more Wine, His Highness is Landed, about with the Glass; The Brimigham-piece is but Counterfeit Coyn Yet fain for good Sterling among as wou'd pass. Hey Bowman more Wine, Fill up to the Brim; While Zealots repine We'll frolick and sing;

For Oats, is confounded, That Turn-coated Round-head; Then let us be Loyal, and true to our King:

2.

A little Old Conjurer threw so much Brass, And Pewter and Copper amongst the True Coyn That hardly a Peny of Money can pass, But what is Clipt, Plated, or wash'd very fine But thine Boy, and mine, Bears the stamp of the King; Then let's have more Wine, While good Money we bring; John Thum is confounded, That Brazen-fac'd Round-head; Then let us be Loyal, and True to our King.

3.

With such a Bold, Impudent and Brazen-face They'd pass for true Mettle, although but wash'd o'r; The Kings Stamp & Image they only disgrace As they did their Lord and Creators before; But thine Boy, and mine, Bears the stamp of the King, Then let's have more Wine, While good Money we bring; For Care is Confounded, That Scismatick Round-head; Then let us be Loyal, and True to our King.

4.

Yet (what is most noted) these Brimigham Elves, To bear the true stamp are so brazen'd with Art, That they wou'd have nothing to pass but themselves,

Although they're but Copper and Gaul at the heart. But thine Boy, and mine, Bears the stamp of the King, Then let's have more Wine, While good Sterling we bring; For Dick is confounded, That Libelling Roundhead, Then let us be Loyal, and true to our King.

5.

They call themselves Loyal, nay more, love the King Yet Royalists, Tory and Papist mis call; And rail at all those who stand up for the thing, With L'strange, Heraclitus and Thompson, & all Gainst these the Slaves Their Libels they fling; Yet they are the Knaves, That do Libel the King; But Langley's confounded, That Pamphletting Roundhead; Then let us be Loyal, and true to our King.

6.

Thus Brimighams still the Stamp Royal rebukes With Brazen-fac'd Impudence guided so fine Who hates the King's Picture as well as the Dukes, And loves it in nothing, unless in his Coyn; But let him still pass For a counterfeit thing, About with the Glass, And merrily sing; For Ben is confounded; That Cuckoldly Round-head; Then let us be Loyal, and true to our King.

To the King and the Queen, fill it up to the Top. The D. & the Dutchess, whom Heav'n has restor'd; And next, Hans in Kelder, the Royal Blew-Cap; To all the true Issue and each Loyal Lord: Crown every Glass, Fill 'em up to the Brim: About let 'em pass, While we merrily sing; For Baldwin's confounded, That impudent Round-head; Then let us be Loyal, and true to our King.

8.

To brave Albemarle the next we'l pursue, With Worster and Clarendon, Seymour, and Hall— To all to their King, and their Country are true, Who Loyalty love, and confound the Caball. If Monarchy shine, And Bowman but bring Good store of brisk Wine, We'l make the Dog ring; For Tony's confounded, That Spiggoted Round-head; Then let us be Loyal, and true to our King.

The PLOT Cram'd into Jones Placket

to the Tune of, Jones Placket is torn, &c.

1.

HAve you not lately heard of Lords sent to the Tower,

Who 'gainst the Popish Plotters, seem'd men of chiefest power: But now they're got into the Plot, and all their power's in vain, For the Plot is rent and torn, and can never be mended again, 'Tis rent and torn, and torn and rent, and rent and torn in twain: For the Plot is rent and torn, and will never be mended again.

2.

Fitz-Harris they suppos'd a sitting Instrument, The Duke, the Queen, and King himself to circumvent: But now he's hang'd and all his Gang will follow the same strain, For the Plot is rent and torn, and will never be mended again, &c.

3.

The Joyner he did march to Oxford, to be Try'd, Where he did find a Jury, who were not Whiggify'd: And for his Joyning in the Plot, a Halter he did gain, For the Plot is rent and torn▪ and will never be mended again, &c.

4.

They say that Mr. Dugdale, so honest and so true, Is one of the King••s Evidence, against this wicked Crew:

And now they aim him to defame, but all will be in vain, For the Plot is rent and torn, and will never be mended again, &c.

5.

The crafty Shaftsburyy, is caught in his own Snare, He has hired many Rogues, themselves for to forswear: Are now undone, with Hetherington, and all his hired Train, For the Plot is rent and torn and will never be mended again, &c.

6.

Thus Innocence we see begins for to appear, Since Rogues for want of Pardons, the Truth are fain to swear: Had it been so, some years ago, we'd hit on the right vein, For the Plot is rent and torn, and will never be mended again▪ &c.

7.

The pious Commons Vote it was a Popish Plot, Which Factious Lords promote, 'twas death to think it not; Thus piously they all agree a Plot for to maintain, But now '••is rent and torn, and will never be mended again, &c.

8.

Against the Lawful Heir, full many a Bill they pass

Upon the Royal Chair to place a gawdy Ass; But they may ride to'th Devil astride with Noll new Plots to feign, For the Plot is rent and torn, and will never he mended again, &c.

9.

When they cou'd rail no more of pious Lords and Peers, To set them as before together by the Ears; To Shrives and Mayor they made this Prayer, they wou'd the Plot maintain, But now 'tis rent and torn, and will never be mended again, &c.

10.

Brave Rich and Famous North, (whom Factions did oppose) For Loyalty and Worth, The Noble Mayor has chose, Who hand in hand will faithful stand to Royal Charles's Reign, For the Plot is rent and torn, and will never be mended again. 'Tis rent and torn, and torn and rent; and rent and torn in twain. For the Plot is rent and torn, and will never be mended again.

The Happy return of the Old Dutch Miller.

To the Tune of the First.

1.

GOod People of England I hope you have had Experience of my Art in my Trade;

For I am the Miller that was here before, That ground Women young, of four or five Score. Then make hast Customers, bring in your Tribes; Il'e quickly dispatch them without any Bribes. For I am so Zealous for Whiglanders Crew Il'e cure their Distempers with one Turn or Two.

2.

And now (for your comfort) I am come again To cure the defection amongst all your Men; Whether they be Factious, Stupid or Lame; Let's see e're a Chymist that can do the same. Then make hast Customers, &c.

3.

If you have e're a City that's troubl'd with Simples; That's over-rich grown, and has Rebellious pimples I'le strip it of all these defects in an hour, And make it submit to the King or the Tower. Then come away Customers, &c.

4.

If any pretending Whigg Sheriffs yet dare, (In the year of his Office) Arrest the Lord Mayor; Let them come to my Mill, if their Insolence must Be taken a Peg lower, I'l Grind them to Dust Then make hast Customers, &c.

5.

If any Grave Alderman Perjures and Swears, Till he runs the great hazard of loosing his Ears. Let him bring but his Toll, and to cover his Shame I'le hide him i'th Hopper, and Dip him i'th' Dam▪ Then make hast Customers, &c.

6.

If any Hot Zealots, or Turbulent Cits, With Tumults & Riots run out of their Wits; For the Toll I'l so Tame 'em, that they shall be all Like Flour of Patience, I'l Grind 'em so small. Then make hast Customers, &c.

7.

If you have e're a Fop that's proud of a String, And fain would aspire to the Throne of a King Bring him to my Mill, I will presently show If he's qualified for a Monarch, or no. Then make hast Customers, &c.

8.

If you have e're a Lord that's a Pimp to's Wife, And to hide his Horns would venture his Life: Send her to my Mill. I'll venture a Tryal, To make Her as Honest as e're He was Loyal. Then make hast Customers, &c.

9.

If you have e're a Slabbering Lord that's a Fool, And sits in Cabals 3 Kingdoms to Rule, And stands for a States-man, I'll make him as able As ever a Helper in all his own Stable Then make hast Customers, &c.

10.

If you have e're a Lord that used to Preach I'••h' top of a Crab Tree, above all your reach, And still the Lords Super expos'd in Lambs wool: send him to my Mill, I'll Reform his Skull: Then make hast Customers, &c.

11.

If you have ••'re a Knight that's a Knave and Thred-bare,

That deals in Neck-laces and such kind of ware: And stole the best Plot, now hides it in Bristol: Bring him to my Mill, I'll make him confess't all. Then make hast Customers, &c.

12.

If you have, or had, any Sheriffs that are Whigs, That have cut off some Heads, and are cutting off Legs. Bring them, and their Perjur'd Juries together, I'll turn 'em all round in my Mill with the Weather. Then make hast Customers, &c.

13.

If you have e're a Doctor that has ne'r a Mouth, But a Hole in the place for a Nose, Nor. & South Put him to my Mill, I shal make him speak sense Behind and before, like a Quaker in Trance. Then make hast Customers, &c.

14.

If He has been Perjur'd ten thousand times o're, And for want of Imployment begins to grow poor; I'll make him as Rich (if he knows his own Name) As when he came Mumping from Flanders or Spain. Then make hast Customers, &c.

15.

If Forty Religions he dares to Believe, And yet Preacheth Blasphemy Fools to deceive: Bring him to my Mill, with more of the Grist, I'll make him a Devil, a Man or a Beast. Then make hast Customers, &c.

16.

If you have any Plots, either Sham ones or True ones, Bring out the Contrivers, both black ones & ble•• ones. I'll either Refine 'em from all their past Ill,

Or else I will strangle them All in my MILL. Then make hast Customers, bring in your Tribes, I'll quickly dispatch them without any Bribes; For I am so Zealous for Whiglanders Crew, I'll cure their Distempers with one Turn or two.

A Congratulation on the Happy Dis∣covery of the Hellish Fanatick Plot.

Tune, Now, now the Fight's done.

1.

COme now let's rejoyce, and the City Bells ring, And the Bonfires kindle, whilst unto the King▪ We pay on our knees the grand tribute that's due, Of thanks and oblation, which now we renew, For Mercies that we have received of late, From Prudence and Justice diverting our Fate.

2.

The Curtain is drawn, and the Clouds are disperst; The Plot's come to light, that in darkness did nest, Jack Calvin's display'd with his Colours in grain: And who were the Traytors and Villains 'tis plain: The Traps that they laid, and the snares that they set, Have caught them at last in their own silly Net

3.

The Foreman himself, that off-spring of Hell, In whose wick'd Breast all Treason doth dwel, To the Tower was sent, with his Triple Name, Whilst the Triple-tree groans for his Carcass again,

And many Rogues more their Leader will follow Unto the same place, whilst we whoop and hallow.

4.

The Libelling tribe that so long have reign'd And sow'd Sedition, shall now be Arraign••d; Their Shams and their Lies shall do them no good, When they come to the tree, there's no sham∣ming that wood: Janway and Curtis in the forlorn hope, Then Vile, Smith and Care shall neck the next Rope.

5

So, so, let them dye that would Monarchs de∣stroy, And spit all their Venom our Land to annoy: If that their Pow••r were to their Malice equal, And their Courage the same, they'd soon ruine all▪ But their Courage is low, and their Power but small; Their Treason is High, and must have a Fall.

6.

When Trojans of old (our Ancestors) were In danger of Shipwrack, & toss'd here & there Great Neptune soon quell'd those Rebels and Storms, With brandished trident, and free'd them from harms; They ••led from his Face, through guilt of their Cause, As these from our Lion, if he stretch out his paws.

7.

Go Devils, be gone to the Region below, Here's no bus'ness of yours, or ought left to do: No Tempter we need, we can act all our selves, Without any help from you silly Elve••; For what Presbyter act, he thinks a disgrace

All Hell should out-do him, or dare shew their face.

8.

For produce all the ill that Hell ever hatch'd, 'Tis nothing at all, when it comes to be match'd With what has been Plotted by Traytors of late, Who aim'd at the Ruine of Church, and of State: By Perjury, Bribes, by suborning all Evil, By Murther, and worse Than e're came from the Devil.

9.

Now Presbyter come and submit thy stiff Neck, Thou labour'st in vain our great Monarch to check; Whose Power Divine no Mortals controul, But hazard the loss of both Body and Soul: Then banish for ever your Commonwealth hope, Which tends to destruction, and ends in a Rope.

Epilogue.

With Wine of all sorts let the Conduits run free, And each true heart drink the K's Health on his knee: No Treason shall lodge in our breasts while we live, To God, and to Caesar their Due we will give; We'l pray with our hearts, and fight with our hands, Against all Fanat. when great Charles commands.

The Loyal Sheriffs of London and Mid∣lesex. Upon their Election.

Tune, Now at last the Riddle, &c.

1.

NOw at last the Matter is decided, Which so long the Nation has divided; Misguided

By Interest and blind Zeal, Which so well in Forty four they Acted; Now with greater heat, They again act o're like Men Distracted, To give to Monarchy a new defeat.

2.

Famous North, of Noble Birth and Breeding, And in Loyal Principles Exceeding; Is pleading To stand his Countreys Friend, To do Justice to the King and Nation, Some so much oppose, To renew the work of REFORMATION, And carry on again the Good Old Cause▪

3.

Next Renowned Box as high commended, And of Loyal Parentage Descended; Intended To do the City Right, With true Courage, and firm Resolution, He the Hall Adorns; But the Heads were all in a Confusion: Such••d in there was & a ratling with their Horns:

4.

Prick up Ears, and push for one another, Let not Box (an old Malignant) Brother; Nor '••other Our Properties command, He's a Kings-man, North is nothing better, They walk Hand in Hand He you know is the Lord Mayor's Creature: And therefore 'tis not sit that they should stand▪

5.

Where are now our Liberties and Freedom?

Where shall we find Friends when we shou'd To bleed 'em And pull the Tory's down, To push for our Int'rest, who can blame us? Sheriffs rule the Town, When we loose our Darling IGNORAMƲS: We lose the Combat, and the day's their own:

6.

Then let every Man stand by his Brother, Poll o're ten times, Poll for one another; What a Pother You see the Tory's make, Now or never, now to save your Charter, Or your Hearts will ake, If it goes for them expect no Quarter: If Law and Justice rule, our heels must shake:

7.

Rout, a Rout, joyn 'Prentice, Bore and Peasant, Let the White-hall Party call it Treason, 'Tis Treason We should our Necks Defend, Routs and Ryots, Tumults and Sedition, Poll 'em o're again, These do best agree with our Condition; If Monarchy prevail, we're all lost men.

8.

The Lord Mayor is Loyal in his Station, 'Las what will become o'th Reformation; O'th' Nation If the Sheriffs be Loyal too? Wrangle, Brangle, huff and keep a Clatter; If we loose the Field, Poll 'em o're again, it makes no matter: For tho' we loose the Day, we scorn to Yield.

9.

Ten for Box, and Twenty for Papillion, North a Thousand, and Dubois a Million: What Villain Our Interest dare oppose? With those Noble Patriots thus they sided, To uphold the Cause; But the good Lord Mayor the case decided: And once again two Loyal Worthies Chose.

10.

Noble North, and Famous Box promoted, By due Course and Legal Choice allotted; They Voted To be the City Sheriffs And may they both to Londons Commendation, Her Ancient Rights restore, To do that Justice to the King and Nation, Which former Factions have deny'd before.

Loyalty Triumphant, on the Confirma∣tion of Mr. North and Mr. Rich, Sheriffs of London and Middlesex.

Tune, Joy to the Bridegroom.

1.

FIll up the Bowl, and set it round, The day is won, the Sheriffs crown'd; The Rabble flies, the Tumults yield; And Loyalty maintains the Field; Saint George for England, then amain, To Royal CHARLES this Ocean drain▪

2.

With Justice may it ever flow, And in an endless Circle go;

The brim with conqu'ring Bays be crown'd, And Faction in the Dregs lie drown'd: Then to the QƲEEN, and Royal James, Sacrifice your flowing Thames.

3.

Thanks to Sir John, our good Lord Mayor, 'Gainst Sheriffs Tricks He kept the Chair; The Court and City's Right maintains, While head strong Faction broke the Reins: Then to the famous Sir John Moor, May after-Age that Name adore.

4.

What Zeal (ye Whigs) to the Old Cause. Thus makes you act against the LAWS; That none for Sheriff must contend, But your old IGNORAMƲS Friend? But now, your hopes are all destroy'd, And your two Champions laid aside.

5.

Is this your love to Church and State, That no good man must serve of late, While you can find one Factious Rogue, To sway the Poll, and get your Vogue? By unjust means your Rights you claim, And lawless Force maintain the same.

6

But brave Sir John, while th'storms increase, His Wisdom made the Tumults cease; In spight of all Illegal Poll, The Routs and Ryots did controll: Whence He shall gain a lasting Name, And after-Age Record His Fame.

7

Amongst the Men of chiefest worth, The Vote is given for Loyal NORTH,

In spight of Pilkington and Shute, Papilion, and the Rabble Rout: Then to brave NORTH a double Doze, Who the strong Factions did oppose.

8.

Now BOX withdraws, Dubois contends, And Noble RICH the Stage ascends; By Legal ('gainst Illegal) Vote, The Loyal Tribune they promote: Then to brave RICH a Health off hand, Who the loud Tumults did withstand.

9.

For Ropes and Gibbets the next year, The Whigs we hope) need not despair; If Rich find TIMBER, (give them scope) Brave North will never grudge them ROPE: Then, to conclude, we'll crown the Bowl With a Health to th•• K. and each Loyal Soul.

London's Joy and Triumph, on the In∣stalment of Sir William Pritchard L. Mayor for the ensuing year.

Tune, Tangier March:

1.

LEt the Whigs revile, The Tories Smile, That their business is Compleated, Let all Rejoyce With Heart and Voice, That the Whig's at last defeated. The Whigs for Loyalty so Fam'd, With all their Hopes are Undone; Since now brave Pritchard is Proclaim'd The Loyal Mayor of London.

2.

You Polish Brace Whose Brazen Face, To the Chair wou'd be Aspiring, See the Rabble Crowd Who Poll'd so Loud; Are bawk'd beyond Admiring; Learn in time to mitigate Your bold Tumultuous Fury, Er'e you shall find, you trust too late, To Ignoramus Jury.

3.

Let Player Tom Receive the Doom, So long due for his Cheating, Who did purloyn The City Coyn, To keep up Holy Meeting; To Rob the Orphan, and the Poor. His great Discharge of Trust is, And run upon the Widdows Score, To do the City Justice.

4.

Let Ward Repent, And Jenks Relent, Their Practice so malitious, Let Hobland rue With all the Crew, That they were so Officious; Such Jews as these, who did deny Their Saviour for a Tester, No doubt again wou'd Crucify Their Sovereign Lord and Master.

5.

For North and Rich, And every such, They set up a Papillion; 'Gainst Pritchard hold, With Cornish, Gold, With Ryot and Rebellion: To love the King can you pretend, Who Royalists deny all; And with such Vigour dare contend, Against the Man that's Loyal.

6.

For shame in time Repent your Crime Your Ryot and Commotion; And to the Mayor, Who kept the Chair, Pay all your just Devotion; Such was their Loyalty of late, To give the King no Money: But freely throw away their Plate, To joyn with Rebel Tony.

7.

Thus you before Did run on score With Royal Charles your Master; Like Drunk or mad Spent all you had To uphold a bold Imposture: Let not Knaves again betray, And rob you of your Reason, Then leave your Factious Heads to pay The forfeit of your Treason.

8.

With all your heat What did you get? With all your din and quarter; But to involve With each Resolve The more entangled Charter? To Charles your just Allegiance give, Your Properties, then plead em, Defending the Prerogative, You best protect your Freedom.

Ryot upon Ryot; or a SONG upon the Arresting the Loyal Lord Mayor and Sheriffs.

Tune, Burton Hall.

1.

ROwze up Great Monarch In the Royal Cause; The Great Defender Of our Faith and Laws: Now, now, or never, Crush the Serpent's Head, Or else the Poyson▪ Through the Land will spread. The Noble Mayor, And his two Loyal Sherieves, Bearing the Sword's, assaulted By Usurping Thieves, Who their Rebellious Ryots Would maintain by Law: Oh! London! London! Where's thy Justice now?

2.

Smite, smite, the Snakes Did first their Sting reveal, Stabbing thy Royal Brother in the Heel; And struck so many Loyal Martyr's dead, Now in the Sun Flies boldly at the Head. Slaves that resist All Power but their own; He that would usurp the Chair, Would next usurp the Throne, Who neither Royal Heir Nor Loyal Mayors allow: Oh! London! London! Where's thy Charter now?

3.

London, of Faction's The eternal Spring, Yet so much favour'd By a Gracious King; Who does such Deeds That have no parallel, Only to teach Thy Children to Rebel. This will record thee In the Books of Fame; This bold Attempt no Law, Nor Precedent can claim: Blood and the Crown, Papillion And Dubois out-do: Oh! London! London! Where's thy Charter now?

4.

Was this the way Your Ryots to repair; In spight o••th Charter, To Arrest the Mayor? And gainst the Sh'riffs Your sham Actions bring, 'Cause justly chosen, And approv'd by th' King? What call you this, but Treason? Whilst the Fool That did Arrest the Mayor Expects himself to Rule; And, save his own, no other Power would allow: Oh! London! London! Where's thy Charter now?

5.

Hang up the Factious Heads That dare oppose The Sword of Justice, And the Ancient Laws: Who in his Office Dare Arrest the Mayor, Disowns the Pow'r That plac'd Him in the Chair. Tantara ra-ra! Let the Trumpets sound, Double all your Guards▪ and let The Cent'nels stand their ground: He that Arrests the Mayor, Would bind the Monarch too: Oh! London! London! Where's thy Charter now?

London's Lamentation for the loss of their Charter.

Tune, Packington's Pound.

1.

YOu Free-men, and Masters, and Prentices mourn, For now You are left with your Charter for∣lorn: Since London was London, I dare boldly say, For your Ryots you never so dearly did pay; In Westminster-hall Your Dagon did fall, That caus'd You to Ryot and Mutiny all: Oh London! Oh London! Thou'dst better had none, Than thus with thy Charter to vie with the Throne.

2.

Oh London! Oh London! how cou'dst Thou pretend Against thy Defender Thy Crimes to defend? Thy Freedoms and Rights from kind Princes did spring, And yet in contempt thou withstandest Thy King: With bold brazen Face They pleaded Thy Case, In hopes to the Charter the King wou'd give place: Oh London! Thou'dst better no Charter at all, Than thus for Rebellion thy Charter shou'd fall.

3.

Since Britains to London came over to dwell, You had an old Charter, to buy and to sell; And whilst in Allegiance each honest man lives, Then you had a Charter for Lord Mayor and She∣riffs: But when, with Your Pride, You began to backslide,

And London of Factions did run w'th' Tide▪ Then London, Oh London! 'tis time to withdraw, Lest the floud of Your Factions the Land over-flow.

4.

When Faction and fury of Rebels prevail'd; When Coblers were Kings, & Monarchs were jayl'd; When Masters in Tumults their Prentices led, And the Tail did begin to make war with the Head; When Thomas and Kate Did bring in their Plate, T'uphold the Old Cause of the Rump of the State Then tell me, Oh London! I prethee now tell, Hadst thou e'r a Charter to Fight and Rebel?

5.

When zealous Sham Sheriffs the City oppose, In spight of the Charter, the King, and the ••aws, And make such a Ryot and Rout in the Town, That never before such a Racket was known; When Ryoters dare Arrest the Lord May'r, And force the King's Substitute out of the Chair Oh London! whose Charter is now on the Lees, Did Your Charter e'r warrant such actions as these?

6.

Alas for the Brethren! what now must they do, For choosing Whig-Sheriffs and Burgesses too? The Charter with Patience is gone to the pot, And the Doctor is lost in the depth of the Plot: St. Stephen his Flayl No more will prevail, Nor Sir Robert's Dagger, the Charter to bail: Oh London! Thou'dst better have lain in the Fire, Then thus thy old Charter shou'd stick in the Mire.

7.

But since with your Folly, your Faction and Pride, You sink with the Charter, who strove with the Tide, Let all the lost Rivers return to the Main From whence they descended; They'l spring out again; Submit to the King In every thing, Then of a New Charter New Sonnets we'll sing: As London, (the Phoenix of England,) ne'r dies, So out of the Flames a new Charter will rise.

The Wine-Coop••rs Delight,

Tune of The Delights of the Bottle.

THe Delights of the Bottle are turn'd out of dores, By Factious Fanatical sons of damn'd Whores. French Wines Prohibition, meant no other thing But to Poyson the Subject▪ & begger the King. Good Nature's suggested with Dregs like to choak her, Of fulsom stum'd Wine by the cursed Wine-Cooper

Our plaguy Wine-Cooper has tamper'd so much, To find out the subtilty of the false Dutch. He tinctures prickt White-wine, that never was good, Till it mantles, and sparkles & looks like Bulls bloud: But when it declines, and its Spirits expire, He adds more Ingredients, and makes it look higher

His old rotten Pipes where he keeps all his Trash For fear they should burst▪ Sir, he hoops them with Ash.

When the Sophistication begins for to froth, And boils on the Fret, Sir, he wisely pulls forth A Tap, which gives vent to the grounds of the Cause, And then is to vamp up a second Red Nose.

Then this dingy Wine-Cooper stops it up again, And keeps it unvented till 'tis all on a flame. The Intelligences then were invented to show, Where Wine of strange Vertues in plenty did flow. People from all parts of the Nation did come, Both Lords, Knights and Gentlemen, Doctor & Bum.

The Cooper then pulls the Tap out of his side, And drinks to the Elders of all the good Tribe. But when they had gus••'d about all the Bowls, They found a strange freedom it gave to their Souls Of secrets in Nature that never were known, It gave Inspiration from Beggar to Throne.

For the Cooper himself full Brimmers did draw, And all the whole Gang were oblig'd to do so. Amongst these Gabals there was no such thing, As a Health once propos'd to the D. or the King. But drank to that Idol of Hopes in their Powers. And Sons of most Infamous Hackney old Whores.

Then the Rable had notice from Smith and from Ben What a Heavenly Liquor was sent amongst men. Both Tinkers and Coblers the Broom men and Sweep, Before this Wine-Cooper in Flocks they did meet; And each under-foot stampt his old greazy Bonnet To drink M—th's Health, Boys, whate'r come on it.

The Cooper preceiving his Trade to approach, He then was resolved once more to debauch.

To encourage the Rable, and shew himself stout, He pull'd out the Spigot amongst the whole Rout Which kindness provok'd them to swear they would bring Such a Trade to his House as wou'd make him a King.

A Hat or a Bottle was still at the Tap; But Zealots sometimes laid their Mouths to the Fat. They charg'd their brisk Bumpers so many times round, Till part of the Mobile sprawl'd on the ground: But when this damn'd Liquor was get in their Pates, They fell to Bumbasting, Disord'ring of States.

They began to cant Dangers by formal Sedition And swear lawful Allegiance 'against lawful Suc∣cession. When these Propositions began to take Fire, They screw'd their Presumptions a hole or two higher; But still they keep under Hugh Peters's Cloak, To bring in the Devil, to drive out the Pope.

But then they began for to pick at the Crown Each thinking that he deserv'd one of his own. Then all the Kings Guards they thought fit to Indict, Swear Treason 'gainst all that maintain••d the King's Right. Both Papists and Protestants no matter whether, They are not of our party, let's hang 'em together,

Next the chief of our Game is to keep the King poor, And our Senators must the Militia secure. The Navy & Cinque-ports we'll have in our hands,

And then we'll make th' Kingdom obey our Commands. Then if Charles do withstand us, we need not to fight, To make Eighty one to out-do Forty eight.

What ever Objections great Loyalists bring, Old Adam liv'd happy without e'r a King. Then why may not we, that are much wiser than he, Subdue the whole World, Sir, by our Sov'raignty: If one man alone can keep three Nations under, Then why may not We that are Kings without number?

Right, said the Cooper, & shak'd his old Noddle, Three Kingdoms we'll toss, like a Child in a Cradle Stick close to this Liquor which I do prepare, 'Twill make us as splendid as Noll in his Chair, We'll kindle old Plots, by contriving of new, Till none shall be safe but the Cooper and You.

O brave Boys! O brave Boys! the Rabble did rore. Tantivies and Tories shall Hector no more; By Ʋs they're out-acted, to Ʋs they shall bend, Whilst we to our Dignities freely ascend, Then they were dead-drunk as the Devil cou'd make 'em. And fell fast asleep, as ten Drums could not wake 'em.

In the Piss and the Spew the poor Cooper did paddle, To stop up his Tap, but the Knave was not able. For his Limbs like a Tortoise did shrivle & crease, Down drops the Wine-Cooper with the other Beasts And there the whole Litter as yet doth abide, At the Sign of the Butt, with the Tap in his side.

A Song upon the King Poland, and the Prince o' the Land of Promise.

Tune, Hold fast thy Crown and Scepter, Charles

1. Prince.

O Poland Monster of our Isle, Corruption of our Age; Which on my Infant Hours didst smile, 'Till thou inflam'dst the Rage Of my Ambitious Soul, to sore Above its defil'd Sphear; And, Icarus-like, I now must low'r, Transform'd into Despair.

2.

Now all my Trophies of Success, Are in Oblivion drown'd; And none for Me dare now Address, Where I hop••d to be Crown'd▪ I by thy false blind Plots am sham'd, Fool'd from a Glorious sway, Snatch'd from a Father's Arms, and Damn'd, Like all that Disobey

3.

Thou call'dst my nearest Friends at Court, Soft, easie, abusurd Tools, That Kings were but for Sates-Men's Sport, The Councel Knaves and Fools. But I, poor I, find now too late, Your Polish Grace can lye; None prov••d more weak at the Foyls of State, Than poor silly Tom, and I.

4.

Now, that Imperial Crown▪ which thou

For me so fit hadst made, Is faln and broke, I know not how, And all our Wiles betray••d; Our full Cabals, and Wapping-Treats, Retrench'd to secret Holes: Treason the strength Our Greatness waits In these rough reared Walls.

5 Poland.

Thou mighty Prince, by me Elect, I'th' Land of Promise Sways▪ Thy tim'rous Soul is the defect Of our declining Days. What brighter Prospect canst propose, To Magnifie thy Name, Than H••arts, and Arms, and Power of Those, That Rule both Law and Fame.

6.

The Rustick Swains want not the Word, No Magazines, nor Horse; 'Zwounds Sixty Thousand by the Sword, Defy both Fate and Curse. They'l lay three Kingdoms at our Feet, In Blood and mangled Brains▪ Then the Train-Bands, Cinque-Ports, and Fleet, At our Command remains.

7.

Though Rowley, and his Brother Joyns, And ••heel's around the Park; Like two Yoak't Oxen, Tugs and Twines, 'Gainst our Designs i'th' Dark, And wisely weighs; Their Wits have wrought Our Potent Parties Fall; That Conquest must be dearer bought, Else Tony Hangs for all.

7.

We have reserv'd Machines in store, To raise more daring Flames, Then Morrals 'ere Conspir'd before; Or Damned Furies Frames. If e'r a Parliament be call'd, Our Representatives there Shall Scorn to be out-box'd, or bawl'd, In Country, Town, or Shire.

9.

Then every Member of the Cause, Amidst the Rable Rude, Who shall decide the Poll with blows, And quash the Tory Crowd. Then stick to Time, whilst Heads are hot, Our Force together brings: If this best PLOT, at last fail not, By Christ, we'••l Both be Kings!

The Hunting of the Fox.

Tune, Now the Tories that Glories, &c.

HAy Jouler, Ringwood, and Towzer, Ho Smoaker, Drunkard, and Fly; Sweet-lips, Light-foot, and Bowzer; Brave Bowman, Lofty, and Cry; And four and twenty brave Couple, To make a Pack for the Downs, Sure footed, and your Limbs supple; The Scent's hot yet on the Grounds. The Old White Fox is got loose again; We think he's gone to ketch Goose again: His Cub•• they sculk and desert amain. Come let••s beleaguer their Holes:

For they're past Evil; to th' Devil We'll send 'em with thread-bare Souls.

2.

They have left the City, 'tis pity, And their damn'd Party i'th Lurch: If to be Hang'd, 'twould be pretty, For Treason 'gainst King and Church. For Cinque-ports, Venus and Juno; For Champion, Thunder and Spark; Let Swift beat for Caralino, And Noser wind 'em i'th' dark. Like Wasps and Flies, they would bite us; As Wolves do Sheep, they would treat us; Like Crockadiles, they would eat us; They thirst for Innocent Blood: Then never scruple, but graple For King and Country's Good.

3.

Round the Dimension o th' Nation, Beat all the Banks on the Shore; And some leap o're the main Ocean, If they are gone before. O surround 'em, confound 'em, From Sea-Port to City-Walls; If there they venter to shelter, 'Zounds tear them out of their Holes: For making Church into Stables, And vamping Kings up of Baubles, And forgoing Plots out of Fables, And seizing Kings in a trice; That the crooked Piper might vapour Like Rat amongst Fifteen Mice.

4.

Scoure the Globe to the Axels,

From Pole to Pole; then retire, And center at Mother Creswels, The Fox us'd to Harbour there: There, there both Wives, Whores and Virgins, He had them all at his Call, T'oblige his Captains and Surgeons, 'Till better Occasions fall. At Oxford late all his Cubs and He, To the Exclusion did all agree; Could not budge further, 'till sign'd and free. Yet Rowley rouzed the Rump, And sent 'em all to Peg Trantams; And Tapsky's worn to the Stump.

5.

Oh, Swift's returned, and Noser, Their Hoofs are batter'd with Greet: The Game shews by the Opposer, He's lodg'd in Aldersgate-Street. Come ring a Peal with a Courage, The Grains o'th' Tap makes a Train; He lurks in Hole to make Forrage Of all that uses his Name. We'll fetch him out with Mandamus, And hang him with Ignoramus; There's none but Rebels can blame us: More Pardons let him not hope; For all his Squinting and Blinking, He must to th'Hatchet or Rope.

Dagon's Fall.

Tune, Philander, &c.

1.

AH Cruel Bloody Fate! What canst thou now do more? Alas! 'tis now too late Poor Toney to restore:

Why should the flattering Fates persuade, That Toney still should live, In England here, Or in Holland there, Yet all our hopes deceive?

2.

A Noble Peer He was, And of Notorious Fame; But now He's gone (alas!) A Pilgrim o're the Main: The Prop and Pillar of our hope The Patron of our cause, The Scorn and Hate Of Church and State, The Urchin of the Laws.

3.

Of matchless Policy Was this Renowned Peer, The bane of Monarchy, The Peoples Hope and Fear, The Joy of all True Protestants, The Tories Scorn and Dread; But now He's gone Who curst the Throne, Alas! poor Toney's dead.

4.

For Commonwealth he stood, Pretending Liberty; And for the Publick Good Would pull down Monarchy: The Church and State he would divorce, The Holy Cause to wed: And in time did hope To confound the Pope, To be himself the Head.

5.

A Tap in's side he bore, To broach all sorts of Ill, For which Seditious Store The Crowd ador'd him still: He spit his Venom through the Town, With which the Saints possest, Would preach and prate 'Gainst Church and State, While He perform'd the rest.

6.

When any change of State Or Mischief was at hand, He had a working Pate, And Devil at command: He forg••d a Plot, for which the Heads Of Faction gave their Votes; But now the Plot Is gone to pot, What will become of Oates?

7.

Under the fair pretence Of Right, Religion, Law, Excluding the True Prince, The Church would overthrow: With such Religious Shams he brought The Rabble on his side; And, for his sport, The Town and Court In Parties would divide.

8.

Now what's become of all His squinting Policy, Which wrought your Dagon••s Fall, From Justice forc••d to flie?

Old and Decrepid, full of pains▪ As he of Guilt was full: He fell to Fate, And now (too late) He leaves us to condole.

9.

Now, learn ye Whigs in time, By his deserved fall, To expiate his Crime, E're Fate revenge you all; For Rights, Religion, Liberty, Are but the Sham-pretence To Anarchy; But Loyalty Obeys the Lawful Prince:

Hue-and-Song after Patience Ward.

Tune, Hail to the Myrtle Shades.

1.

HAil to London fair Town, All hail to the Mayor and the Shrieves; Hail to the Scarlet Gown, Whose Sentence our Patience grieves: Justice and Law hath prevail'd, With Patience a Verdict to find, 'Gainst Patience, whose Conscience fail'd; Oh Patience! why art so blind?

2.

Patience, the joy of the Town, The comfort and hope of the Crowd; Patience, who got renown, By Perjury, Lies and Fraud: Patience who ne'r had the Heart

His Sovereign's Rights to maintain; But Patience he had the Art To Swear and Forswear again.

3.

Patience for Church and for State, And Patience for Meetings by stealth; Patience, who wou'd translate The State to a Commonwealth: Whose Zeal has his Patience betray'd, To lie for the Saints in distress; Nay, tho' he••s Forsworn, ('tis said,) He Swore he could do no less.

4.

Patience, whose Zeal did contrive The Monument Figures and Spire, That while there's a Papist alive We may not forget the Fire: The Pillory now is his Lot, He has rais••d such a flame with his Crew, That London is now too hot; Oh Patience! where art thou now?

5.

Patience for Zeal to the Cause, Did preach to the Captives in Goal▪ Patience, with great applause, Gave large to an Hospital: To Ʋse now his Money may lend, For Pomfret he'l never more stand, Nor Warrants for Thompson send, T'please Titus o'th' Perjur'd Band.

6.

Patience with Coller of Brass, To woful Disasters did fall; Patience with Copper Face, And a Conscience worse than all;

To Holland, to Holland he goes; For plainly now it appears, That (in spight of all Whiggish Laws,) Ignoramus can't save his Ears.

7.

Some say that the Saints may not Swear, But Lie ev'n as much as they can; Yet Patience in spight on's Ears, Will Swear and Forswear again: That Patience should be so far lost, Alas! who with Patience can hear? That a Saint should be Knight o'th' Post, And an Elder without an Ear.

8.

Let ev'ry good Subject with Me, Who Patience a Virtue doth praise, Lest he fall into Perjury, With Patience pray for Grace. But now I with Patience have done, Lest with Patience I keep such a Rout, That astray more with Patience run, And weary your Patience out.

A new SONG on the Arrival of Prince George, and his Intermarriage with the Lady Anne.

Tune, Old Jemmy.

1.

PRince George at last is come, Fill every man his Bumper; For the Valiant Dane make room, Confusion to each Rumper, And every prodigal starch'd Fool Aspires unto a Crown,

By hopes of Plotting Knaves to Rule, Who next wou'd pull Him down.

2.

Preserve Great Charles our King, And His Illustrious Brother Whilst Whigs in Halters swing, And hang up one another: The joyful Bridegroom and the Bride, Prince George of Royal Race, Of all the Swains the Joy and Pride, The subject of their ••ays.

3.

Brave George He is a Lad With all Perfections shining; With every Virtue clad, And every Grace refining: But oh! of such a war-like Race, So Conqu'ring are his Charms, No Mars in Field, but must give place To His Victorious Arms.

4.

Brave George, Great Denmark's Son, (A stout and war-like Nation) By Birth to England's Crown A near and dear Relation; But now the Knot is doubly ty'd, Which makes him still more near, The Knot which Knaves would have destroy'd, By cutting off the Heir.

5.

But now the Tribe's dispers'd, Their Projects are defeated, Which Walcot and the rest Did hope to have compleated:

And now they'l pay for all their scores, Who for that Int'rest stood, And let 'em hang for Sons of Whores, Who thirst for Royal Blood.

6

Poor Perkin! where's the hope Of all thy high promoting? Now, Bully Tom, a Rope Must crown thy Cheats and Plotting: Let Ferguson with Gray escape, They safe are ev'ry-where, If Murder, Treason, Lust and Rape Can pass unpunish'd here.

7.

Let M— for a Crown, That hopeful Prince so Loyal, Away with Rebels run, To raise an Army-Royal: Brave George for England scorns to fly, Old Jemmy stout as He, Their Plots and Malice we defie, And all their Treachery.

8.

May Heav'n, which him did raise O'th' Protestant Profession, In His Immortal Race Maintain the just Succession, That no pretending Bastard bold In time to come may dare His lawless Title to uphold, Against the lawful Heir.

A new Song made by a Person of Qua∣lity, and sung before His Majesty at Winchester

Tune, Cook Lawrel.

1.

A Tory came late through Westminster-hall, And as he past by heard a Citizen bawl; The Judges are Perjur'd, and we are undone, Our Liberty's lost, and our Charter is gone.

2.

This comes of our Prating since Colledge is dead; This comes of our Plotting without ••ony's Head: For he had more wit in his Treason by half, As he hook••d himself on, he crook'd himself off.

3.

He scarce had said this when a Baron approac'd That ruin'd two Sisters, the younger debauch'd: The Reasons he cry'd, I'm loath to describe, He would have a Maiden-head out of the Tribe.

4.

The next came a Peer, & a Knight of great Fame, One Famous for Stabbing, the other was Lame; O Heavens! in what a strange Age do we dwell, When Bully's Reform, and Cripples Rebel.

5.

With them the sweet Speaker, Wi. W—s I saw, His Head full of Projects, but empty of Law; For he 'tis observ'd has been dull as a Dog Since Pe—n batoon'd him for calling him R••

6.

Peart Wa—op and Win—on, Mutinies breed, Yet still in the Cause, for no purpose are Fee'd▪ For Cradeck will offer himself for a Drudge; If either of them will be fit for a Judge.

7.

Old Ma—rd, all ages in Faction was chief; Now Mumbles by rote, ne'r looks in his Brief: But rotten Rebellion will never last long, He spit out his Teeth, & will cough out his Tongue.

8.

Now by the Re—er new Cards must be plaid, That Body of Law with a Sarazens-Head, That (Span••el-like) fawns on the King to his face And yet makes the Whigs just amends for his place.

9.

For Magistrate Patience, I plainly confess, I've little to say, because he's in Distress; But he that sat once in th' Cities great Chair, Would a Pillory grace; so I wish he were there.

10.

Dubois and Papillion, the Cities sham Shrieves, Whose Truth and whose Loyalty no man believes; That Arrested the Mayor and no danger forsaw, To keep from self-hanging I leave to the Law.

11.

For Law they complain'd, of the Lawyers they boast, They'r pleas••d, till by Law they their Ch▪ had lost: Law, Law, was the cry of the Mutinous Crew, The Devil's in't if they ha'nt Law enough now.

12.

Scribe Cl—n's Wife deckt with the spoils of the poor, Embroider••d in Scarlet like Babylon's Whore; But let me advise him to strip off her Red, And make her a Peticoat of her Green-Bed.

13.

Old Pl—yer grown rampant, late pickt up a Whore And swore he'd recant, & be Whiggish no more; By Tories made Drunk in the Company's view.

The Saint kist her C—t, and drank healths in her Shoe.

14

Now listen ye Whigs, and hear what I speak, A Monarch (like Heaven can give and can take; But you for Rebellion no Reason can bring, So hang your selves all; and God save the King.

The New-market SONG

Tune, Old Symon the King.

1.

THe Golden Age is come, The Winter-storms are gone, The Flowers spread, and Bloom, And smile to see the Sun; Who daily gilds each Grove, And calms the Air and Seas, Dame Nature seems in Love, And all the World's at ease: You Rogue so saddle Ball, I••ll to New market scour▪ You never mind when I call, I shou••d have been there this hour; For there is all Sporting and Game, Without any ••lotting of State; From Whigs, and another such Sham, Deliver us, deliver us, O Fate! Let's be to each other a ••rey, To be chea••ed be ev'ry ones Lot; Or chous'd any sort of a way, But by another Damn'd Plot. Let Cullies that lose at the Race Go venture at Hazard, and win; And he that is bubbl'd at Dice, Recover't at Cocking again:

Let Jades that are founder'd be bought, Let Jockeys play Crimp to make sport; For 'faith it was strange, methought, to see Vintner beat the Court.

2.

Each corner of the Town Rings with perpetual noise, The Oyster bawling Clown Joyns with hot Pudding-pies;

And both in Consort keep, To vend their stinking Ware, The drowzy God of Sleep Hath no Dominion there.

Hey boys! the Jockeys roar. If the Mare and the Gelding run, I'll hold you Five Guineys to Four He beats her, and gives half a stone.

God d—me, quoth Bully, 'tis done, Or else I'm a Son of a Whore; And fain wou'd I meet with the man Would offer it, would offer it once more.

See, see the damn'd Fa••e of the Town! A Fop that was starving of late, And scarcely cou'd borrow a Crown, Puts in to run for the Plate,

Another makes chousing a Trade, And dreams of his Projects to come, And many a Crimp match has made, By bribing another man's Groom.

The Towns-men are Whiggish, God rot 'em, Their hearts are but Loyal by fits; For, shou'd you search to the bottom, They're as nasty as their Streets.

3.

But now all hearts beware; See, see on yonder Downs? Beauty now tryumphs there, And at this distance wounds:

In the Amazonian Wars Thus all the Virgins shone, And, like the glittering Stars, Paid homage to the Moon.

Love proves a Tyrant now, And there doth proudly dwell; For each stubborn heart must bow, He has found a new way to kill:

For ne'r was invented before Such Charms of additional Grace Nor has Divine Beauty such Pow'r In ev'ry, in ev'ry fair Face.

Ods bud, cries my Country-man John, Was ever the like before seen? By Hats and by Feathers they ve on, Ise took 'em e••n all for men:

Embroider'd and fine as the Sun, Their Horses and Trappings of Gold; Such a sight I shall ne'r see again, If I live to a hundred years old.

This, this is the Countreys discourse All wondring at this rare sight: Then Roger go saddle my Hor••e, For I will be there to night.

A New Song on the Fan. Plot,

Tune Hey Boys up go We

NOw, now the Plot is all come out, That caus'd our Doubts and Fears, And all the Tribe that made the Rout, Both Commoners and Peers; The mighty Patrns of the Cause, Gainst Pagan Popery, Who rais'd a Gibbet for our Foes, And hey Boys up go we.

2.

With Sanctify'd Religious Zeal The Brethren did agree To raise our Ancient Commonweal On Christian Liberty: To undermine the Church and State, And blow up Monarchy; But now, alas! 'tis our own Fate, And hey Boys up go We.

3.

A Holy Covenant we took, To Sacrifice the King, And next to him the Royal Duke, A Bloody Offering; For which, according to the Vote, The Papists all shou'd die; But now the Saints have chang'd their note, And hey Boys up go we.

Our Zealous Covenanting Saints, Associating Peers, Each Heart for fear with Patience pants, To lose more than his Fars; Toney's dead, and M—s fled, The Helm is turn'd a Lee The Plot (the Nail) is knock'd o'th' head, And hey then up go we.

No longer may the Papists boast Their Bloody black Designs; Old Rome thy Ancient Glory's lost, For all thy Learn'd Divines: For Royal Murders, Treasons base, And marchless Trachery, The Jesuits must now give place, And hey Boys up go we.

6.

How well did we contrive the Plot, And laid it at their Door, For which old Stafford went to pot, And many guiltless more; But now the Tide is come about, The Truth of all we see; And when the Murder all is out, Then hey Boys up go We.

7.

Rumsey's Gold, and Rumbold bold, Conspire to kill the King, And Pickering in fatal hold, Must answer for the thing; ••elthor••, West, and all the rest, With Perkin may agree, To be o'th' Tower not Throne possest; Then hey Boys up go we.

8.

Our City Ryots and Country Routs, That to Rebellion tend, Our Races, and our Hunting-bouts, In Insurrections end; The Rebel now is catch'd i'th' Snare ••e laid for Monarchy; At last the Gallows claims its share, Then hey Goys up go we.

The Conspiracy; or, the discovery of the Fanatick Plot.

Tune, Let Oli∣ver now be forgotten, &c.

1.

LEt Pickering now be forgotten, Old Rumbold has wip'd off his scores; Since Presbyter Jack went a Plotting, The Jesuits turn'd out of Dores: For Brewing, swilling of Treason, King-killing without reason, Of all the Pack, Noble or Peasant, None can exceed old Presbyter Jack.

2.

First, the hot Sectaries Voted, 'Twas Treason to Murther the King▪ And next the bold Regicides Plotted To compass the very same Thing: Their Votes and Arbitrary Power, That sent the Lords to the Tower, We now see plain, Every hour, They'd the old Game play over again.

3.

Rumsey and Rumbold indented At Hodsdon their Ambush to bring; But Heav'n and the Fire prevented, And Providence guarded the King: The Whigs the Treason propounded; But when the Trumpet sounded For Cambridgeshire, All were confounded, Taken or fled both Peasant and Peer.

4

M••nmo••th for Wit, who was able To make to a Crown a pretence, The Head and the Hope of the Rabble, A ••oyal and Politick Prince: But now He's gone into Holland, To be a King of no-Land, Or else must be Monarch of Poland, Was ever Son so Loyal as He?

5.

Lord Gray, and Armstrong the Bully, That Prudent and Politick Knight, Who made of His Grace such a Cully, Together have taken their flight: Is this your Races, Horse-matches, His Grace's swift Dispatches From Shire to Shire? Under the Hatches, Now above-Deck you dare not appear.

6.

Brave Russel and Sidney the Bully, That stood for the holy Old Cause; And Trenchard drawn in for a Cully, In spight of Allegiance and Laws; And Wildman too, with his Cannon, With Walcot, Smith and Aaron, With Mead and Bourn, Every Man, on To Tyburn goes the next in his Turn.

7.

Next Valiant and Noble Lord H—d That formerly dealt in Lambs-wool, And knows what it is to be Tower••d, By Impeaching may fill the Jayl•• full:

And next to him Cully Brandon The Wit; and famous Hambden Must take his place, Who did abandon All Loyalty, Religion and Grace.

8.

Hone▪ and Rowse, the King and His Brother That they were to kill 'em confest, And now they hang up one another, Holms, Blaney, Lee, Walcot and West: May all such Traytors discarded, To Tyburn be well guarded, And ev'ry thing Be so rewarded, That would oppose so Gracious a King.

RƲSSEL's Farewel Tune, Oh, the merry Christ-Church Bells, &c.

OH, the mighty Innocence Of Russel, Bedford's Son! That dy'd for the Plot, Whether Guilty, or not, By his last (Equivocating) Speech! By the words of a dying man, I here protest I know no Plot 'Gainst the Life of the King, or Government, Either by Action, or Intent. Fy, fy, fy, fy, fy, fy, my Lord, What are you about to do? To sink to Hell By th' sound of your Knell, Both Soul and Body too.

Oh, the shallow memory Of this blood-thirsty Lord! T'deny and confess, And all to express His guilty Insolence the more: I at Mr. Shepherd's house Did hear some little slight discourse, How easie 'twas the Guards to seize; Yet I am guiltless, if you please; No, no, no, no, no, no, my Lord, Your Guilt's too plainly seen, And M—th too, With Shaftsbury's Crew, To destroy both King and Queen

3

Next your Lordship does protest, No man had ever yet That Impudence Against his Prince, To your face to propose any foul Design: Then you confess immediately, At the House of Politick Shaftsbury You heard such words Were sharp as Swords, The worst can be thought or English affords; Which rais'd your Righteous Spirit to Exclaim against their sense; Yet this you conceal'd, And never reveal'd, Till in your blind Defence.

4.

Po••ery (your Lordship says) Is Bloody and unjust; What then) you design'd With those you combin'd,

Was farce, to jest our Lives away; For when the Duke of Monmouth came T'acquaint your Honour of his Fear Of being undone by the heat of some, Too violent for the bloody Cause, Away you go to Shepherd••s strait, Where pernicious words were said, In Passion all, With Judgment small, But consequence of Dread.

5.

From the time of choosing Sheriffs, I did conclude the heat Would this produce; That's no excuse, But just Confession of the Fact. Presently your Lordship says, For farther Confirmation still, You are not surpriz••d to find it fall On your Honour you deserv'd it all: Immediately you would proclaim Aloud your Innocence Why your Lordship's mad, In a Cause so bad, To put that Sham-pretence.

6.

O ye True blew Protestants, Whose times are yet to come, You see your Fate; Early or late Follow you must, 'tis all your Doom. M••th, Armstrong, Ferguson, Gray, Goodenough the Under-Shrieve, With all your Ignoramus Crew,

That Justice hate, and Treason brew; Scaffold, Tyburn, Halter, Ax, Those Instruments of Death, As 'tis your due, May't you pursue, Till you resign your Breath.

Eustace Comines the Irish Evidence, his Farewel to England. Tune,

O hone, O hone

1.

BEe me Shoul and Shouluation, O hone, O hone. I'le go to mee own Nawtion: O hone, O hone. Old Tony hence is fled, And Russel lost his Head; I starve for want of Bread, O hone, O hone.

2.

This Sawcy English Plot, O hone, O hone. Did make Ours go to Pot: O hone, O hone. What shall I do to go? Let me shee, O ho! O ho! Pox take me if I know: O hone, O hone.

3.

My sauce does red wid Shame, O hone, O hone. That ever here I came: O hone, O hone Ten, Twenty Curse upon

Sham Justice Heddrington, Who made me first leave Home, O hone, O hone.

4.

A Gra Eustace, he did say O hone, O hone. You moyle for a Groat a day: O hone, O hone. A Plot Office now is ope, I will advance your Hope, If you'l Swear against the Pope, O hone, O hone.

5.

Be Creest I will, said I, O hone, O hone. Tell you ten hundred Lye, O hone, O hone. I'le Swear dem in and out, Wee'l have a merry bout, And make a Rabble rout, O hone, O hone.

6.

We came to Westminster, O hone, O hone. Den he call'd me Maishter, O hone, O hone. I swore by Fait and Trote, And by my Beeble Oate, (What wee'd agreed on bote,) O hone, O hone.

7.

Then I was put in pay, O hone, O hone. Had five, six Groat a day, O hone, O hone.

Which did fine Cloads afford, Instead of Spawde, a Sword; I knew not mee shelf good Lord, O hone, O hone.

8.

But soon my Maishter Rogue, O hone, O hone. Was in spite of his Brogue: O hone, O hone. For the Sawce of his Tongue, To Prisons dragg'd along, Magnatum Scandalum, O hone, O hone.

9.

Then was prepar'd a Drench, O hone, O hone. Oats himshelf to Retrench; O hone, O hone. The meaner Swearers then To Tremble did begin: As I have a Shoul widin: O hone, O hone.

10.

By this Book I did faint, O hone, O hone. Till Patrick mee fwhite Saint: O hone, O hone. Bid me leave off my Cryes, And Swear no more Plot-Lies. Then streight away he hies: O hone, O hone.

11.

Deel take this Swearing Trade, O hone, O hone.

I'le go home to mee Spade: O hone, O hone. I'le fence the Patatoes round And keep mee Maishters ground; I am too long Hell-Hound. O hone, O hone.

12.

My Book-bussing Tribe adieu; O hone, O hone. It is now bad wid you: O hone, O hone. And if I 'scape the Hang, I've out-done all my Gang; And leave You here t'Swing Swang. O hone, O hone.

Monarchy Tryumphant; or, the fatal fall of Rebels.

Tune, The King enjoys His own again.

WHigs are now such precious things, We see there's not one to be found; All roar, God bless and save the King, And the Health goes briskly all day round: To the Souldier Cap in hand The sneaking Rascals stand, And wou'd put in for honest men; But the King He well knows His Friends from His Foes, And now He enjoys His own again.

2.

From this Plots first taking air, Like Lightning all the Whigs have run; Nay, they've left their topping Square, To march off with our eldest Son▪ They've left their States and Wives,

To save their precious Lives, But who can blame their flying? when 'Twas plain to 'em all, The great and the small, That the King wou'd have His own again.

3.

Since the King was thereabouts, They all well knew their Heads were His; So by help of such like scouts The Great Ones have yet escap'd His Phys. His stern and Kingly look There's few of them can brook, Since fairly try'd, they know that then The Hemp or sharp Steel They must all expect to feel, Since the King enjoys His own again.

4.

This may chance a warning be, (If e're the Saints will warning take) To leave off hatching Villainy, Since they've seen their Brethren at the stake, And more must mounted be, (Which God grant we may see) Since Juries now are honest men; And the King lets 'em swing With a hey ding, ding, ding, ding, Great Charles enjoys His own again.

5.

Once they voted, That His Guards A Nuisance was, which now They find; Since they stand betwixt the King And the Treason that such Dogs design'd: 'Tis They will you maul, Though it cost 'em a fall,

In spight of your most mighty Men; For now they are allarm'd, And all Loyallists well arm'd▪ Since the King enjoys His own again.

6.

To the King some Bumpers round, Let's drink▪ my Lads, whilst Life doth last; He that at the Core's not found, Shall be kick'd out without a tast: Since we're case-harden'd honest men, Which makes their Crew mad, But us Loyal hearts full glad, That the King enjoys His own again.

The Plot and Plotters confounded; or, the down-fall of Whiggism.

Tune, Ah Jenny! 'tis your Eyn do kill.

1.

THe Plot (God wot) Is now broke out, Confound those brought it in; Let them be Damn'd, (Besides being sham'd,) Of their King-killing sin; Down, down with their General Council and Collonel, Joyner and Cobler of State, Their Members of Parliament Of the new Rump, Let all Repent too late.

2.

Oh now you Whigs Led up this Jig, What is't you'l lead up next?

Why saith I hear To Tyburn you gang, For being beside your Text▪ To Tyburn the High-born, As well as the Cobler, Concern'd in Plot so dire, Must Hickle-te Pickle-te Swing on a Row; Pray God I am no Lyer.

3.

Did ever Fools Set up such Tools That durst not stand the sho••k Of being made, Or being marr'd? A pox on such Bully-Rocks! Fy, fy, fy, fy, Fy, fy for shame, Such Heroes run the pit, It shews, God knows, Their fear of blow••, And eke their want of wit.

4.

The King God bless, The Queen no less, The Duke and Dutchess too; The Lady Anne, with Her good Man, And all the Royal Crew: Let those that love The King be bless'd, And those that hate Him curs'd; Let Tories swim In Claret, and The Whigs be choakt with thirst.

Whig upon Whig; or a Pleasant dismal SONG on the old Plotters newly found out.

Tune, O hone, &c.

1.

BEloved hearken all, O hone, O hone. To my sad Rhimes that, shall O hone, O hone. Be found in Dity sad, Which makes Me almost mad, But Tories hearts full glad, O hone, O hone.

2.

Essex has cut his Throat, O hone, O hone. Russel is Guilty found, O hone, O hone. Walcot being of the Crew, And Hone the Joyner too, Must give the Devil his due, O hone, O hone.

3.

Rumsey swears heartily, O hone, O hone. West swears He does not lie, O hone, O hone. L. H—d vows by's Troth, That they are good Men both, And take the self same Oath, O hone, O hone.

4.

I heard some People say, O hone, O hone. M—th is fled away, O hone, O hone.

And some do not stick to say, If He falls in their way, He will have damn'd fair play, O hone, O hone.

5.

Armstrong and Gray Got wot, O hone, O hone. And Ferguson the Scot, O hone, O hone. Are all run God knows where, 'Cause stay they dare not here, To fix the Grand Affair, O hone, O hone.

6.

Juries (alass) are thus, O hone, O hone. There's no Ignoramus, O hone, O hone. But You'l have Justice done, To evr'y mothers Son, And be Hang'd one by one. O hone, O hone.

7.

Now how like Fools we look, O hone, O hone. Had we not better took O hone, O hone. Unto our Trades and Wives, And have kept in our Hives, Which might have sav'd our Lives, O hone, O hone.

8.

The King He says, that all O hone, O hone.

That are found Guilty, shall O hone, O hone. Die by the Ax or Rope, As they dy'd for the Pope; Brethren there is no Hope. O hone, O hone.

9.

The Sisters left behind, O hone, O hone. Must with Vile Tories Grind, O hone, O hone. And still be at their Call, To play at Up-tails-all; Nay, to be Poxt and all. O hone, O hone.

10.

The Tories now will Drink, O hone, O hone. The Kings Health with our Chink, O hone, O hone. Queen, Duke and Dutchess too, And all the Loyal Crew. Jerney Morblew, Morblew. O hone, O hone.

The Whigs Droun'd in an Honest Tory Health.

To a pleusant Tune.

1.

WEalth breeds Care; Love, Hope and Fear; What does Love or Bus'ness here, While Bacchus's Navy doth appear? Fight on, and fear not sinking: Fill it briskly to the Brim, Till the flying Top-sails swim,

We owe the first Discovery to Him Of this great World of Drinking

2.

Grave Cabals, who States Refine, Mingle their Debates with Wine; Caeres and the God o'th' Vine Make every great Commander: Let sober Sots small Beer subdue, The Wise and Valiant Wine do woe; The Staggarite had the Honour too To be Drunk with Alexander.

3.

Stand to your Arms! and now advance▪ A health to the English King of France, And to the next of Boon Esprance By Bacchus and Apollo: Thus in State I lead the Van; Fall in your place by the Right-hand-man! Beat Drum! march on! dub a dub, ran dan! He's a Whig that will not follow.

4.

Face about to the Right again, Britains Admiral of the Main, York, and His Illustrious Train Crown the days Conclusion: But a Halter stop his Throat Who brought in the foremost Vote, And of all that did promote The Mystery of Exclusion.

5.

Next to Denmark's War-like Prince▪ Let the following Health commence; To the Nymph whose Influence Brought the Hero hither:

May their Race the Tribe annoy, Who the Grandsire would destroy, And get every year a Boy Whilst they are together.

6.

To the Royal Family Let us close in Bumpers three; May the Ax and ••alter be The Pledge of every Roundhead: To all Loyal Hearts pursue, Who to the Monarch dare prove true; But for Him they call ••rue blew, Let him be confounded.

An excellent new Song on the late Victories over the Turks.

To a very Pleasant New Tune.

1.

HArk! the thundring Canons roar, ecchoing from the German shore, And the joyful News comes o'••▪ The Turks are all confounded; Lorrain comes, they run, they run; Charge your Horse through the grand half-moon We'l quarter give to none, Since Staremberg is wounded.

2.

Close your Ranks, and each brave Soul Take a lusty flowing Bowl, A grand Carouse to th' Royal ••••le, The Empires brave Defender; No man leave his Post by stealth, Plunder the Grand Visiens Wealth, But drink a Helmet full to th' Health▪ Of the second Alexander.

3.

Mahomet was a sober Dog, A small Beer drouzy senseless rogue, The Juice of the Grape so much in vogue To forbid to those Adore him; Had he but allow'd the Vine, Given'em leave to carouze in Wine The Turk had safely past the Rhine, And conquer'd all before him.

4.

With dull Tea they sought in vain, Hopeless Vict'ry to obtain, Where sprighty Wine fills ev'ry Vein; Success must needs attend him; Our Brains, (like our Canons) warm With often Firing, feels no harm, While the sober sot flies the Alarm, No Lawrel can befriend him.

5.

Christians thus with Conquests Crown'd, Conquest with the Glass goes round, Weak Coffee can't keep its ground, Against the force of Claret: Whilst we give them thus the Foyl, And the Pagan Troops Recoyl, The Valiant Poles divide the Spoyl, And in brisk Nectar share it.

6.

Infidels are now o'recome, But the most Christian Turks at home Watching the Fate of Christendom, But all his hopes are shallow; Since the Poles have led the Dance, Let English Caesar now advance,

And if he sends a Fleet to France, He's a Whig that will not follow.

Tangiers Lamentation on the Demolishing and Blowing up of the Town, Castle and Citadel▪

Tune, Tangier March.

1.

LEt the Moors repine, Their hopes resign, Now the Pagan Troops are cheated▪ Let Foot and Horse Disband their Force, Since Tangier is defeated: Alas Tangier! what sudden Doom Hath wrought this alteration, That thus thy March should now become Thy fatal Lamentation?

2.

Now, alas Tangier! That cost so dear In Money, Lives, and Fortunes, See how the States, The kinder Fates, For thy own Fate importunes: Had this been plotted by the Moors, Alas! it were no matter; But blown up thus by thy own Store, Thou••dst better swem in Water.

3.

The old Port, Tangier, Where for good Cheer We never paid Extortion; Which, whilst it stood, War once thought good To be a Monarchs Portion.

Whilst English Hearts Thy Walls possest, They scorn'd e'r to surrender, Now to the Foe is left a Nest For Serpents to engender.

4.

Alas! what now Must the Sea-men do, When they come ashore to Lord it, For a little Fresh Store, And a little Fresh Whore? Which Tangier still afforded▪ No Ambuscade of Treacherous Moor, Nor shall Ben Otter's Highness Court any more the British Shoar, To try the Ladies kindness.

5.

It would grieve your heart, Should I impart The Gold and precious Matter That lies opprest In every Chest Drown'd underneath the Water; But now the Mold that forc'd the Main, The Mold so gay and bonny, Is with the Chests blown up again▪ But ne'r a Cross of Money.

6.

Of how many Souls, And large Punch-bowls, Has this been the undoing? How many Tun Of precious Coyn Lie buried in the Ruine? Had this been done some years ago,

Of Horsemen and Postillions, 'T had sav'd some thou and Lives the blow, And sav'd besides some Millions.

7.

When the Pile took fire Above the Spire, I wish (for th' good o'th' Nation) The Walls well cramm'd, With Rebels ramm'd Of the ••ssociation: All Bethells of a Commonwealth, Each sullen Whig and Trimmer, That boggle at a Loyal Health, Yet will not bawk a Brimmer.

8.

Now Heav'n preserve (While Rebels starve) The King and's Royal Brother, While Traytors fly, And others die, Impeaching one another: That Gracious Prince that values more His Subjects Lives and Pleasure, Than all the Wealth of Africks shoar, And Tangiers buried Treasure.

The History of Whiggism, From their Rise, to their late horrid and unparallel'd Conspiracy.

Tune, When the Stormy Winds do Blow.

1.

YOu Calvinists of England, Who surfeit with your Ease, And strive to make us Whigland, To breed a foul Disease:

Hearken you painted Saints, For we will let you know, Oh, the Cares and the Fears That by you Whigs do grow!

The first of your pretensions When that you did begin, Were gloss'd with good Intentions, But false at Heart within: No Faith in you was ever found, That Truth we plainly know, Oh the Cares and the Fears That by you Whigs do grow.

Queen Elizabeth she did descry, And soon found what you were; She made fit Laws against you By Parliament appear; Which late you'd have Repealed, But just Charles too well did know, All the Cares and the Fears That by you Whigs do grow!

Such Locusts in the Nation King James could never love; Wherefore he thought discretion T'advise his Son t'disprove Of all your false pretended Zeal; For wisely he did know, Oh, the Cares and the Fears That by you Whigs do grow!

When best of Kings and Princes Did give your hearts desire, Yet you were not contented, To th' Crown you did aspire;

You said, you'd make him Great, Indeed you did do so; But oh, the Cares and the Fears Attends such Winds that blow!

On the Mitre you did trample To make your selves more high, With greater force to give the stroke Against His Majesty: Ah! false and trayterous Tekelites, Such ways to let us know The great Cares and the Fears That by you Whigs do grow!

The Whig he then stood rampant, To us he gave his Laws; Yet such he dare not vaunt on't, So sharp we felt his Claws: YOu then laid open what you were, And smartly made us know Oh, the Cares and the Fears That by you Whigs do grow!

The Blessed Martyrs Royal Son, Whom Heav'n guarded sure, And made us happy by's Return, Him you could not endure: Against His Life you did conspire, And Mighty James also; Oh, the Cares and the Fears That by you Whigs do grow!

Peace, Plenty, and all that's good, Through His Conduct we have: Ungrateful Souls! to seek his Blood▪ Who seeks us for to save;

And by your late Rebellious ways Again to make us know, Oh, the Cares and the Fears That by you Whigs do grow!

With furious Zeal you do inflame, And cause our Countreys burn: You work Confusion, but the blame On Innocents you turn▪ Your holy Masque is dropping off, God grant it may do so, And stop the Cares and the Fears That by you Whigs do grow.

May Colledge, Rouse, and Hone, their Fate On Traytors all attend: What though i•• seems a little late? Yet still we know your end. ••ust Vengeance does not sleep, Though you do think it so; You'll have your shares of the Cares That by you Whigs do grow.

Long live great Charles our pious King Who cares when we do sleep, To keep still safe under his Wing From Ravenous Wolves his Sheep: He us preserves from Bears Clutch▪ The Lyons Jaw also, And from all Cares and all Fears That by you Whigs do grow

The Whigs▪ hard Heart the cause of the hard Frost.

Tune, Oh London! Th'adst better have built new Bordello's, &c.

1.

YE Whigs and Dissenters, I charge you attend, Here is a sad story, as ever was told: The River of Thames, that once was your Friend, Is frozen quite over with Ice very cold; And Fish which abounded, Tho' they can't be drownded, For lack of their Liquor, I fear are confounded Then leave your Rebellious & damn'd Presbytering, Or you may be glad of Poor-Jack & Red-herring.

2.

Now, had it been frozen with Brimstone and Fire, The wonder had been much deeper at bottom; Tho' some do believe your Sins do require A Punishment great as e'r fell upon Sodom: But then the poor Fish Had been dress'd to your Dish, And, stead of a Plague, you had then had your wish; Pikes, Flounders, together with Gudgeons and Roaches, Had served for the Luxury of these Debauche••s.

3.

But, alas! to instruct ye this Frost now is sent, As if it would shew ye your Consciences harden'd; And if each Mothers-child make not hast to repent, How the Devil d'ye think ye shall ever be pardon'd 'Tis a very sad Case, As ever yet was, That the River should suffer for every Ass!

Poor Thames! thou mayst curse the foul Lake of Geneva, For whose faults Thou dost penance, sans hope of Reprieve-a.

4.

This Thames, (O ye Whigs!) brought ye Plenty & Pride, So ye harden'd your hearts with your Silver and Gold But if ever ye hope to redeem Time or Tide, ••ot must your Repentance, your Zeal must be cold; Your damn'd hungry Zeal For rank Commonweal Will hurry ye headlong all down to the Deel; Then melt your hard hearts, and your tears spread abroad. As ever ye hope that your Thames shall be Thaw'd.

5.

Make hast, and be soon reconcil'd to the Truth, Or you may lament it, both old men and young; For, suppose ev'ry Shop should be turn'd to a Booth Oh, were it not sad to be told with a tongue! Should Cheapside advance Up to Pety-France, And Londons Guild-hall up to Westminster dance; O, what would become of your wealthy brave Chamber, If it were forc'd so far Westward to clamber?

6.

C••ck shops with rost Victuals, and Taverns with Wine, Already are seen on the River with plenty, ••hich are fill'd ev'ry morning before ye can dine, By Two's and by Three's, I may truly say Twenty; Jack, Tom, Will, and Hary. Nan, Sue, Doll, and Mary, Come there to devour Plum-Cakes and Canary:

And if with their Dancing & Wine they be tir'd, For a Tester a piece there's a Coach to be hir'd.

7.

There's Ginger-bread, Small-Cole, and hot Pudding-pies, With Bread & Cheese, Brandy & good Ale & Beer: Besides the Plum-Cakes too, there's large Cakes of Ice, Enough to invite him that will come here; All which does betide To punish your Pride; Y'are plagu'd now with Ice, 'cause you love to back-slide: Methinks if should warn you to alter your station. For y'ave hitherto built on a slippery Foundation.

8.

Ye Merchants to Greenland, now leave off your sailing, And for your Tr••in-Oyl you••selves never solicit; For there is no fear of your Merchandise failing, Since the Whales, I••m afraid, mean to give us a visit: The great Leviathan May sail to England, To see a worse Monster the Presbyterian. Was ever a Vengeance so wonderful shewn, That a River so great should be turn'd to a Town?

The Swearers Chorus to the Presbyterian Plot.

Tune, The merry Beggers, &c.

1.

THere was a Monstruous Doctor; This Doctor had no Peer, A Rogue from his Cradle And bred to Lie and Swear; And a Swearing we will go, will go, will go, And a Swearing we will go.

2.

A Bag for my Pilgrims▪ Another for Black Bills,

Ten thousand blank Commissions To move as many Hills: And a Swearing we will go, &c.

3.

A Bag for my Sallery, From every Fool suborns, Three brawny Bums to follow me, And bugger them by turns: And a Bugg ring we will go, &c.

4.

A Bag for my Plunder, Sir William's on the scent; The Pole did n••er so thunder In the Grand Vizier's Tent: And a Pundring we will go, &c.

5.

A Bag for my Necklace, Another for my Plate; And all shall be Fish That comes in Waller's Net; And a Plund'ring we will go, &c.

6.

A Bag for my Pistols▪ And Consecrated Knives, And one for Tormentillio's, T'fright Fools out of their Lives: And a Plotting we will go, &c.

7.

A Bag for the Parson, Another for Don John; Though I swore like a Whoreson, Yet still I did swear on: And a Swearing we will go, &c.

8.

Through four and twenty Key-holes I sally'd like a Witch, And through as many Brick-walls I'll swear I went through-stitch: And a Swearing I did go, &c.

9.

To Lambeth we will go, Where we first made the Plot; While Prance and I can swear and lie, They all shall go to pot: And a Plotting we will go, &c.

10.

Then we'l to Godfrey go, And find Him kill'd o'th' spot, And swear the Papists did it, To make a Popish-Plot: And a Murd'ring we will go, &c.

11.

A Gown I have for shew Amongst the Clergy grave, And, when I please, a Cloak To hide the double Knave: And a Plotting we will go, &c.

12.

I had a pretty knack, To Wheedle, Swear and Lye, By the Rebellious Rabble How much admir'd was I! And a Swearing we will go &c.

13.

In fair London Town I live, and pay no Rent; The Brethren they provide for me,

And I am well content: And a Swearing we will go, &c.

14.

Of all Occupations The Swearer is most blest; For when he swears most falsly, He's always paid the best: And a Swearing we will go, &c.

15.

I fear no Plot against me, Although the Whigs rebel; Then who would be honest, Since such Rogues fare so well? And a Plotting we will go, will go, will go; And a Plotting we will go.

A New SONG.

Tune, I'll tell thee, Dick, &c.

CHil tell thee, Tom, the strangest story, Because thou art an honest Tory; 'Tis News beyond expressions: Zich zights are no where to be zeen In any Lond, (God zave the Queen) But at our Quarter-Sessions.

Vor Rogues I zaw in zich a place, As wou'd the Gibbet quite disgrace, 'Tis pity it shou'd want 'em: But how the Devil they came there, List, Tom, and chil in brief declare And how they did recant 'em,

When I was late at London Town, To zee zome zights e••r I went down, To White-hall I did venture; And having on my best Array,

As vine as on a Holy-day, Zoors I made bold to enter.

Up stairs I went, which were as brooad, And Dirty too as any Rooad, Or as the streets o'th' Zity. Hadst thou been there, thou wouldst have said His Majesty had kept no Maid, Gods zooks, and that's a pity.

When I was up, I did discern A Chamber bigger than a Barn, Where I did see Voke stand, That I was well near vrighted quite, It was so strange and grim a zight, With long things in their hand.

Their Cloathing cannot well be told, on which were things of beaten Gold Upon their Back and Breast; I doft my Hat when I came in, Quoth I, Pray which of you's the King? Which made a woundy Jest.

At last came by a Gentlemon, Who made me zoon to understond I need not be avear'd; Quoth he, Come on, and vollow me, Chil shew thee straight His Majesty; Vor thease are but His Guard.

But, Tom, not any Wake or Vair Can shew zich numbers as are there, Still cringing low, and bowing, That I may zwear, and tell no lie, They wearier are, than Thou or I With Thrashing or with Plowing.

No Ants do vaster lead or drive, Or Bees buz to or fro' the Hive, I ma••l they were not dizzy; And zure the Nations great Avairs Lay heavily upon their Cares, They look'd zo wise and busie.

At last came in His Majesty, Not taller much than Thou or I; Yet, whatzoe'r I ail'd, With only gazing on his Vace, I trembl'd like a Love-zick Lass Just on the point to yield.

He look'd, methought, above the rest, Tho not by half zo vinely drest, Which made me vall a zwearing, A Pox upon the Parliament, That will not let us pay him Rent, Gold's only for his wearing

A Ribbon vine came cross avore, Zich as our Landlords bridemen wore At end of which was hung A curious thing, that shone as bright As Maudlin's eyes, or morning light, When guilded by the Zun,

But now the news, chil tell thee Truth, Hard by hi•• zide there stood a Youth, That look••d as trim and gay, As if de had not guilty bin Of wishing e'r to be a King, Unless a King of May.

It was the zame our Vicar zed Vor Treason shou'd have last his Head, Vor which ••ive hundred Pound

By Proclamation offer'd was To any that shou'd take his Grace In any Kerson ground.

Won Zunday morn, thou maist remember, I think the twantieth of Zeptember, Our Parson read a thing, How this zame Spark, (a vengeance on him!) With vorty moor, did take upon him To kill our Gracious King.

But scant the vrighted harmless Zwain, That meets a Wolf upon the Plain, Was so agast with vear: Wounds! if His Majesty (quoth I) Does keep no better Company, Chil stay no longer here.

With that, the Mon that brought me in By th' Jacket pull'd me back again; Quoth he, Pray hear ye reason; He was a What-d'ye-cal't, 'tis true, But••s Pardon makes him vree as you Vrom Knavery or Treason.

Whaw, whaw! quoth I, a pretty Nick, To make Rogues honest by a trick Zo often try'd in vain: As if my Bull shou'd gore me once▪ I'd trust the zenseless Beast with Horns To gore me o'r agen.

Chil e'en to Devonshire agen, Where honest men are honest men, And Rogues are hang'd v••r Rogues. Ods wounds! were I His Majesty, E'r zich a Zon shou'd counten••nc••d be, Chi'd prize him as my Dogs.

Ʋnfortunate Jockey; or, Jenneys Lamentation for the loss of Jockey.

A pleasant Tune, sung in the Play call'd, The Royalist.

1.

TWa bony Lads were Sawny and Jockey, Sawny was lewd, and Jockey unluckey, Sawney was tall, well favour'd, and witty, But I'se in my heart thought Jockey more prety For when he su'd me, woo'd me, and view'd me, Never was lad so like to undo me, Fie I cry'd, and almost dy'd, Lest Jockey should gang and come no more to me.

2.

Jockey would love, but he would not marry, And I'se had a dread that I'se should miscary His cunning Tongue with wit was so guilded, That I'se was afraid my heart would have yielded For daily he press'd me, kiss'd me, and bless'd me, Lost was the hour methought when he mist me, Crying, denying, and sighing, I woo'd him, And muckle ado I had to get fro him.

3.

But cruel Fate rob'd me of my Jewel, For Sawny would make him fight in Duel, And down in a Dale with Cypress surrounded, Ha! there to his death poor Jockey was wounded But when he thrill'd him, fell'd him, kill'd him, Who could express my grief that beheld him? Raging, I tore my Hair for to bind him, And vow'd and swore ne'r to stay behind him.

4.

I sigh'd and sob'd until I was weary, To think my poor Jockey should so miscarry, And never was any in such a sad taking

As hapless Jenny, whose heart is still a king, To think how I crost him, tost him & lost him; Too late it was to coyn words to accost him, Alone then I sate lamenting and crying, Still wishing each minute that I were a dying.

5

Ah! Jockey since thou behind thee hast left me, And death of all joys and all comforts bereft me, Thy destiny I will lament very mickle And down my pale cheeks salt Tears they shall trickle; To ease me of trouble each bubble shall double, To think of my Jockey so Loyal and Noble, I'se grieve for to think that those eyes are benighted Wherein mournful Jenny so much once delighted

6.

That blow oh Sawny was base and unlucky, That robbed poor Jenny of her dearest Jockey, A bony boon Youth 'twas known he was ever To please his poor Jenny was still his endeavor; But 'twas fortune uncertain, our parting, Procured & caused this breaking & smarting, But whilst I do live 'tis resolved by Jenny, For Jockeys dear sake ne'r to lig with any.

7.

This Jenny for Jockey lay sighing and weeping, Oft wringing her hands while others was sleeping But Sawney to see her thus strangely distressed, For the loss of her Love, his heart was oppressed, Tho' this deluder, view'd her, and sued her, 'Twas all but in vain, for she call'd him Intruder And said, if you die for my Love I will mock ye, For you were the cause of the death of my Jockey.

8.

That bony brave Scot hath left nene behind him,

That like to himself was worthy of minding, ••is Fathers delight, and the joy of his Mother; And Scotland before ne'r bred sike another, When I think on his beauty, let duty confute ye. Death never before had sike a great booty, For all that do know him, do sigh & bewail him, But Oceans of Tears now can little avail him.

9.

Ah! Jockey there's nene that are left to inherit The tythe of thy Virtues, thou wonderful merit, But whilst I do live thou shalt not be forgotten, He sing out thy praise when thy carkass is rotten For thou wert the fairest, rarest, and dearest, And now thou art dead like a Saint thou appear∣est, I'll have on thy Tomb-stone these Verses inserted, Here lies hopeless Jockey, who was so true hearted.

10.

And when this thy Motto shall fairly be written, There's none shall read but with grief shall be smitten And say't was pity that one so true hearted Should by cruel death from his Jenny be parted. And thus I with weeping, creeping, and peeping Look into thy Grave where thou dost lie sleeping Till sighing my self I have brought to my end, To show that poor Jenny was Jockeys true Friend.

The Winchester Wedding; or, Ralph of Redding, and Black Bess of the Green.

To a new Country Dance: or, the King's Jigg••

1.

AT Winchester was a Wedding, the like was never seen Twixt lusty Ralph of Redding, and bony black Bess of the Green▪

The Fidlers were Crowding before, each Lass was as fine as a Queen, There was a Hundred and more, for all the Country came in: Brisk Robin led Rose so fair, she lookt like a Lilly o'th'Vale, And Ruddy-fac'd Harry led Mary, And Roger led bouncing Nell.

2

With Tommy came smiling Katy, he helpt her over the Stile, And swore there was none so pretty, in forty and forty long mile: Kit gave a Green Gown to Betty, and lent her his hand to rise. But Jenny was jeer'd by Watty, for looking blew under the eyes: Thus merrily chatting all, they pass'd to the Bride-house along With Jonny and pretty fac'd Nanny, the fairest of all the Throng.

3.

The Bridegroom came out to meet 'em, afraid the Dinner was spoil'd, And usher'd 'em in to Treat 'em, with Bak'd, and Roasted, and Boyl••d; The Lads were so frolick and jolly, for each had his Love by his side, But Willy was Melancholly, for he had a mind to the Bride: Then Philip begins her Health, and turns a Beer-Glass on his Thumb, But Jenkin was reckon'd for Drinking, the best in Christendom.

4.

And now they had Din'd, advancing into the midst of the Hall, The Fidlers struck up for Dancing, and Jeremy led up the Brawl; But Margery kept a quarter, a Lass that was proud of her pelf, 'Cause Arthur had stoln her Garter, and swore he would tye it himself: She strugl'd and blusht, and frown'd, and ready with anger to Cry, 'Cause Arthur with tying her Garter, had slip'd his hand too high.

5.

And now for throwing the Stocking, the Bride away was led, The Bridegroom got drunk was knocking for Candles to light 'em to Bed: But Robbin that found him silly, most friendly took him aside, The vvhile that his Wife vvith Willy, vvas playing at Hoopers-hide; And novv the vvarm Game begins, the Critical minute vvas come, And Chatting, and Billing, and Kissing, vvent merily round the Room.

6.

Pert Stephen vvas kind to Betty, and blith as a Bird in the Spring, And ••ommy vvas so to Katy, and Wedded her vvith a Rush Ring: Sukey that Danc'd at the Cushion, an hour from the Room had been gone, And Barnaby knevv by her blushing,

that some other Dance had been done; And thus of Fifty fair Maids, that came to the Wedding vvith Men, Scarce five of the Fifty vvas left ye, that so did return again.

A Narrative of the Old Plot, being a New SONG.

Tune, Some say the ••apists had a Plot, &c.

1.

WHen Traytors did at Pop••ry rail, Because it taught Confession: When Bankrupts bawl'd for Property, And Bastards for Succession.

2.

When Tony durst espouse the Cause, Spight of his Pox and Gout: When Speaking Williams purg'd the House By spewing Members out.

3.

When Hunt a twy-fac't Pamphlet wrote, the Embleme of his Soul: When Oats swore whom he pleas'd in's Plot▪ And reign'd without Controul.

4.

When L—ce too lampoon'd the Court, And libell'd Cats and Doggs: When Witnesses, like Mushroms, sprung Out of the Irish Boggs.

5.

Then Perkin thought 'twas time to prove His Claim to Kingship fair; And 'faith tis sit the Peeples Son Should be the Peoples Heir.

6.

So fill'd with Zeal He and his Knight Caress and Court the Rout; And my Lord Duke goes up and down To shew his Grace about.

7.

Tho' F—d Lord G—y would not ingage Upon that idle score; For He would have a Common-wealth, As well as Common whore.

8.

He envy••d his old Friend a Crown But why I can't devise; For's Grace had grac't his Lordships head With Horns of noble Size.

9.

Then Johnson wrote his Patrons Creed, A Doctrine fetch't from Hell: 'Twas Christian-like to disobey, And Gospel to Rebel.

10.

Julian his Pattern and his Text; A meaner Theam He scorns: First represents Him at the Desk, And then Apostate turns.

11.

Like his, his Patrons Zeal grew high, Th' Exclusion to advance; And the right Heir must be debarr'd, For fear of Rome and France.

12.

The Zealous Commons then resolv'd, (And they knew what they did) By whomsoe're the King should fall, The Papists throats should bleed▪

13.

So murd'ring Ponyards off are slipt Into a guiltless hand: And Innocence is sacrific'd, Whilst Malefactors stand.

14.

By Hell's Assistance then they fram'd Their Damn'd Association: And Worthy Men, and Men Worthy, Divided all the Nation

15.

Fools oft and Madmen leave the less, And choose the greater evil: Thus They for fear of Popery, Run head-long to the Devil.

16.

At last the Loyal Souls propose To ease their Sovereign's Cares; If He'll sit down, and first remove Their Jealousies and Fears.

17.

Just the old Trick and Sham Device Of Belzebub their Sire: He but fall down and worship Them, They'll grant his hearts desire.

18.

Nay Lives and Fortunes then shall be Entirely all his own; If He will fairly once disclaim A Brother and a Crown.

The Praise of the Dairy-Maid, with a Lick at the Cream-pot, or Fading Rose.

Tune, Packington's Pound.

1.

LEt Wine turn a Spark, & Ale huff like a Hector. Let Pluto drink Coffee, & Jove his rich Nector. Neither Cider nor Sherry, Metheglin nor Perry, Shall more make me Drunk, which the vulgar call Merry: These Drinks o're my Fancy no more shall prevail But I'll take a full soop at the mery Milk-Pail.

2.

In praise of a Dairy I purpose to sing; But all things in order; first God save the King, And the Queen I may say, That ev'ry May-day, Has many fair Dairy-Maids all fine and gay. Assist me, fair Dam'sels to finish this Theme, And inspire my fancy with Strawberries & Cream

3.

The first of fair Dairy-Maids, if you'll believe, Was Adam's own Wife, your Great-grand-mother Eve; She milk'd many a Cow, As well she knew how, Tho' Butter was then not so cheap as 'tis now; She hoarded no Butter nor Cheese on a Shelf, For the Butter and Cheese in those days made it self.

4.

In that Age or Time there was no damn'd Money, Yet the Children of Israel fed on Milk & Honey; No Queen you could see Of the highest Degree, But would milk the brown Cow with the meanest she

Their Lambs gave them Cloathing, their Cows gave them Meat. In a plentiful Peace all their Joys were compleat.

5.

But now of the making of Cheese we shall treat, That Nurser of Subjects, bold Britains chief Meat. When they first begin it, To see how the Rennet Begets the first Curd, you wou'd wonder what's in it. Then from the blue Whey, when they put the Curds by. They look just like Amber, or Clouds in the Sky.

6.

Your Turkey Sherbet, and Arabian Tea, Is Dish-water-stuff to a Dish of new Whey; For it cools Head and Brains, Ill Vapours it drains, And tho' your Guts rumble, 'twill ••e'r hurt your Brains. Court-Ladies i'th morning will drink a whole Pottle, And send out their Pages with Tankard & Bottle.

7.

Thou Daughter of Milk, and Mother of Butter, Sweet Cream, thy due praises how shall I utter! For when at the best, A thing's well exprest, We are apt to reply, That's the Cream of the Jest: Had I been a Mouse, I believe in my Soul I had long since been drown'd in a Cream-Bowl.

8

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Old Morpheus ne'r tasted so sweet in a Dream; It removes all Obstructions, depresses the Spleen, And makes an old Bawd like a Wench of Fifteen.

9.

Amongst the rare Virtues that Milk does produce A thousand more Dainties are daily in use; For a Pudding I'll tell ye, E'r it goes in the Belly, Must have good Milk, both the Cream & the Jelly; For a dainty fine Pudding without Cream or Milk Is like a Citizen's Wife without Satten or Silk.

10.

In the Virtues of Milk there's more to be muster'd The charming delights of Cheese-Cake and Custard; For at Totenam-Court You can have no Sport, Unless you give Custards and Cheese-Cakes for't: And what's Jack Pudding that makes us to laugh, Unless he hath got a great Custard to quaff.

11.

Both Pan-Cakes & Fritters of Milk have good store But a Devonshire Whit-pot requires much more. No state you can ••hink, Tho' you study and wink, From the lusty Sack-posset to poor Posset-drink; But Milk's the Ingredient, tho' Sack's ne'r the worse; For 'tis Sack makes the Man, tho' Milk makes the Nurse,

12.

But now I shall treat of a Dish that is cool, A rich clouted Cream, or a Goose-berry-Fool; A Lady I heard tell, Not far off did dwell, Made her Husband a Fool, and yet pleas'd him full well:

Give thanks to the Dairy then every Lad, That from good-natur'd Women such Fools may be had.

13.

When the Dam'sel has got the Cows Teat in her hand How she merily sings, while smiling I stand Then with pleasure I rub, Yet impatient I crub, When I think of the Blessings of a Syllabub: Oh Dairy-maids, Milk-maids, such Bliss ne'r oppose. If e'r you'll be happy; I speak under the Rose.

14.

This Rose was a Maiden once of your Profession, Till the Rake and the Spade had taken possession; At length it was said, That one Mr. Ed∣mond did both dig and sow in her Parsley bed; But the Fool for his labour deserves not a Rush, For grafting a Thistle upon a Rose-bush.

15.

Now Milk Maids, take warning by this Maidens fall. Keep what is your own, and then you keep all; Mind well your Milk-pan, And ne'r touch a man, And you'll still be a Maid, let him do what he can. I am your Well-wisher, then list to my word, And give no more Milk than the Cow can afford

A new SONG Sung before the Loyal Livery-Men in Wistminster-hall July the 19th. 16••.

1.

HArk! how Noll & B••adshaw's Heads above us Cry, come, come, ye Whigs that love us: Come, ye faithful Sons, fall down, and adore ye Your Fathers, whose Glory

Was to kill Kings before ye; From Treason & Plots let your grave Heads adjourn, And our glorious Pinacle adorn. What though the Scaffolds all are down here, To entertain the Friends of the Crown here? We, whose Lives & whose Fortunes Great Charles will maintain, For Monarchy-haters, Damn'd Associators, Whigs, Bastards and Traytors, We'll build 'em, we'll build 'em again, Let the infamous Cut threats of Princes be sham∣m'd all. Their black Souls be damn'd all, Their Blunderbuss ramm'd all With Brimstone and Fire infernal; The Gods that look o'r Him Did by Wonders restore Him, Their Angels sate round Him That hour they Crown'd Him, And were listed His Guards Eternal.

2.

How, like Jove, the Monarch of Great-Britain Drives the Gyant-Sons of Titan! Down ye Rebel-Crew; ye Slaves, lie under: See! Charles with His Thunder Has dash'd 'em all asunder; Down from His bright Heav'n the Aspirers are hurl'd, Lost in the common Rubbish of the World: See, how the God returns Victorious! And to make His Tryumph still more Glorious, See, the whole Hosts of Heav'n the proud Conque∣rour meet. The Stars burn all brighter, The Sun mounts uprighter, Whilst his Steeds gallop lighter, To see, see their Jove made so Great:

With the brands & the stings of a Conscience disloyal From the fiery Tryal, Let the Coward Slaves flie all, Leave Vengeance and Gibbets behind 'em; Whilst the great Desperadoes All turn'd Renegadoes, With their old Friends took napping, In some Cole-hole at Wapping Shall Charles and His Justice find 'em.

3.

Let the malice of Fanatick Roundhead (Hatch'd in Hell) be still confounded; The Royal Brothers no Storm e're sever, But new Wonders deliver, And their Heirs Reign for ever, On Englands bright Throne sit till Times last Sand runs, And stop their Glories Chariot with the Suns. Then for Charles's second Restauration, Snatch'd from the Jaws of the Imps of Damna∣tion, We with Feastings & Revels will chear up our Souls For the safety of Caesar, In Joy, and in Pleasure, Till our Hearts shall o're-flow like our Bowls. For a Health to Great Charles, let the Goblets be crown'd there, The Huzza go round there, To the Skies let it sound there, Up to th' Throne of Great Charles's Protector, Till the pleas'd Gods that see, Boys, Grow as Merry as we, Boys, Joyn their Spheres in the Chorus, Make their whole Heav'ns out-roar us, And pledge us in Bumpers of Nectar.

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A Narrative of the Popish-Plot, shewing the cunning contrivance thereof.

Tune, Packington's Pound.

The Contents of the First Part.

How Sir Godfrey is kill'd, his Body they hide, Which brought out in Chair, a Horseback does ride; How Jesuits disguis'd our Houses to fire; How subtly they Plot, and the King's death conspire; Of divers great Lords drawn in, to their Bane, An Irish Army, and Pilgrims from Spain.

1.

GOod People, I pray you, give ear unto me. A Story so strange you have never been told How the Jesuit, Devil and Pope did agree Our State to destroy, and Religion so old: To murder our King, A most horrible thing! But first of Sir Godfrey his death I must sing; For howe'r they disguiss't, we plainly can see, Who murdr'd that Knight, no good Christian cou'd be. The truth of my Story if any man doubt, We have Witnesses ready to swear it all out.

2.

At Somerset house, there is plain to be seen A Gate which will lead you into the back-Court; This place for the Murder most sitting did seem, For thither much People do freely resort: His Body they toss'd From Pillar to ••ost, And shifted so often, t'had like t'have been lost; To which with dark-Lanthorn the Jesuits did go, But no ways distrusted our honest Bedlow. The truth of my Story, &c

3.

Lest such close Contrivements at length might take air, When as his dead Body corrupted did grow, They quickly did find an invisible Chair, And set him on Horse-back to ride at Sohoe: His own Sword to th' Hilt. To add to their Guilt, They thrust through his Body, but no blood was spilt; T'have it thought he was kill'd by a Thief they did mean, So they left all's Money, and made his Shoes clean. The truth of my Story &c.

4.

To shew now th' excess of Jesuitical Rage, They this Loyal City to ruine would bring, 'Cause you Citizens are so religious and sage, And ever much noted as true to your King: T'your Houses they go With Fire and with Tow, Then pilfer your Goods, & 'tis well you 'scape so; Y'have seen how they once set the Town all in flame; Yet 'tis their best Refuge, if we believe Fame. The Truth of my Story, &c.

5.

By Bedlow's Narration is shewn you most clear, How Jesuits disguss••d into Houses will creep; In a Porter's or Carman's Frock they appear, Nay, will not disdain to cry Chimney sweep; Or sell you Small Cole, Then drop in some hole A Fire-Ball, or thrust it up by a long Pole. But I now must relate a more tragical thing, How these Villains conspir'd to Murder our King. The Truth of my Story, &c.

6.

At the White-horse in April was their main Consul••▪ Where a Writing these Plotters wickedly frame; The Death of our Sovereign was the result, To which at least Forty all signed their name: They would not do that, In the place where they sat, Trusty Oates must convey't from this man to that; To make sure work, by Poyson the Deed must be done And by a long Dagger, and shot from a Gun. The truth of my Story. &c.

7.

For fear at St. Omers their Oates might be miss'd, They agreed with the Devil t'appear in his place, In a Body of Air, (believe't if you list) Which lookt just like Oats▪ & mov'd with the same grace. 'T cou'd Plot, it cou'd Cant, Turn eyes like a Saint, And of our great Doctor no feature did want: Thus hundreds might swear they saw Oates ev'ry day But true Oats was here, and the Devil say they. The truth of my Story, &c.

8.

From Father Oliva Commissions did come, To raise a great Army much Treasure is spent; The old Man did once think to take Post from Rome For to ride at the head of them was his intent; Lord Bellas was sit (Who can deny it? To command in his place, when his Gout wou'd permit; Lord Stafford was proper'st to trust with their pay Old Ratcliffe to range them in Battle-Array. The truth of my Story, &c.

9.

Th' High-Treasurers place the L. Powis did please, (Men of desp'rate Fortunes oft venture too far;) Lord Peters would hazard Estate, and his Ease, And Life for the Pope too, in this holy War; Lord Ar'ndel, of old So war-like and bold, Made choice of a Chancellors Gown we are told; All these did conspire with the Lord Castlemain, Who now his good Dutchess will ne'r catch again The Truth of my Story, &c.

10.

Great store of wild Irish, both civil and wise, Designed to joyn with the Pilgrims of Spain; Many thousands being ready all in good guise, Had vow'd a long Pilgrimage over the Main; To arm well this Host When it came on our Coast, Black Bills forty thousand are sent by the Post, This Army lay privately on the Sea shore, And no man e'r heard of 'em since or before. The Truth of my Story, &c.

The Second PART. The Contents of the second Part.

Of Arms under-ground for Horse and for Foot, The King almost kill'd, but Gun will not shoot, For which Pickring is whip'd. All of them swear To be true to the Plot; yet Oats, not for Fear, But Revenge, being turn'd away, and well hang••d, Discovers them all; the Jesuits are hang'd.

1.

The Plot being thus subtly contriv'd, as you hear, To God knows how many this Secret th' impart;

Some famous for Cheats, yet their Faith they don't fear To tie a Knave fast they had found a new Art. They swore on a Book, And Sacrament took; But you'll find, if into their grave Authors you look, To forswear••s no sin (as th' Recorder well notes) Nor Treason, Rebellion, nor cutting of Throats. The Truth of my Story, &c.

2.

Still blinded by Zeal, and inveigl'd by Hope, Store of Arms they provide for Fight & Defence; The Lords must command as Vice-Roys of the Pope, And all over England they raise Peter-pence: Their Letters they send By Bedlow their Friend, Or else by the Post, to shew what they intend; Some hundreds Oats saw, which the Jesuits ••id write 'Tis a wonder not one of them e'r came to light. The truth of my Story, &c.

3.

Pounds two hundred thousand they to Ireland sent, Fifteen thousand to Wakeman for Potions and Pills, Forty thousand in Fire-works we guess that they spent, And at least ten thousand for the 'foresaid Black-Bills Fifteen hundred more Grove shou'd have, they swore, Four Gentleman-Russians deserved Fourscore; Pious Pickering they knew was of Masses more fond; And for thirty thousand they gave him a Bond. They truth of my Story, &c.

4

These two, to kill the King by promises won, Had now watch••d for some years in St. James's Park, And Pickering (who never yet shot off a Gun)

Was about to take aim, for he had a fair mark; Just going to begin't, He missed his Flint, And looking in Pan, there was no Powder in't; For which he their Pardon does humbly beseech, Yet had thirty good lashes upon his bare Breech. The truth of my Story, &c.

5

But a sadder mischance to the Plot did befall, For Oats their main Engine fail'd, when it came to't No marvel indeed if he cozen'd them all, Who turn'd him a begging and beat him to boot. He wheeling about, The whole Party did rout And from lurking holes did ferret them out, Till running himself blind; he none of them knew, And fainting at Councel, he could not swear true. The truth of my Story, &c.

6.

To strengthen our Doctor, brave Bedlow's brought in, A more credible Witness was not above-ground; He vows and protests, what e'r he had been, He wou'd not swear false now for five hundred pound And why should we swear, They falsly would swear, To damn their own Souls, and to lose by it here; For Oats, who before had no peny in Purse Discov'ring the Plot, was seven hundred pound worse. The truth of my Story, &c.

7▪

Two Witnesses more were let loose from the Jayl, Though one, 'tis confest, did run back from his word; (In danger of life a good man may be frail) And th' other they slander for cheating his Lord▪

T'each one of these men The Jesuits brought Ten, To disprove em in time & in place; but what then? One Circumstance lately was sworn most clear, By a Man who in hopes has four hundred a year. The truth of my Story, &c.

8.

Besides 'twas oft urg'd, we must always suppose, To murder the King a great Plot there has been; And who to contrive it so likely as those Who Murder and Treasons do hold for no sin; Things being thus plain, To plead was in vain, The Jury instructed again and again, Did find them all Guilty, & to shew 'twas well done The People gave a Shout for Victory won.

9.

'Tis strange how these Jesuits, so subtle and wise, Should all the Pope be so basely trepann'd, To hang with much comfort when he shall advise, And go to the Devil too at his command. He may give them leave To lye and deceive; But what when the Rope does of Life them bereave Can his Holiness, think you, dispense with that pain Or by his Indulgences raise them again? The truth of my Story, &c.

1O.

Yet, like Mad men, of Life and Contempt they express And of their own happiness careless appear; For Life and for Money not one wou'd confess, They'd rather be Damn'd than be Rich & live here. But surely they rav'd, When God they out-brav'd,

And thought to renounce him the way to be sav'd, And with Lies in their mouths go to Heav'n in a string So prosper all Traytors, and God save the King. The truth of my Story, &c. Concordat cum Kecordo Cl. Par.

A general Sale of Rebellious Houshold-Stuff.

Tune, Old Simon the King.

1.

REbellion hath broken up House, And hath left me old Lumber to sell; Come hither and take your choice; I'le promise to use you well. Will you buy the old Speaker's Chair, Which was warm, and easie to sit-in, And often-times hath been made clean, When as it was fouler than sitting, Says old Symon the King, Says old Symon the King, With thread-bare Cloaths, and his mamsy Nose, Sing hey ding, ding, a ding ding.

2.

Will you buy any Bacon-flitches? They're the fattest that ever were spent; They're the sides of the Old Committees, Fed up with th' Long Parliament. Here's a pair of Bellows and Tongs, And for a small matter I'll sell 'em; They're made of the Presbyters Lungs, To blow up the Coals of Rebellion, Says old Symon the King, &c.

3.

I had thought to have given them once To some Black-Smith for his Forge;

But, now I have consider'd on't, They're Consecrated to the Church; For I'll give them to some Choir, To make the Organs to rore, And the little Pipes squeak higher Than ever they did before, Says old Symon the King, &c.

4.

Here's a couple of Stools for sale, The one square, and t'other is round; Betwixt them both, the Tail Of the RƲMP fell unto the ground. Will you buy the States Council-Table, Which was made of the good Wain-Scot; The frame was a tottering Babel, To uphold the Independent-Plot? Says old Symon the King, &c.

5.

Here's the Beesom of Reformation, Which should have made clean the Floor; But it swept the Wealth out of th' Nation, And left us Dirt good store. Will you buy the States Spinning-wheel, Which spun for the Ropers Trade? But better it had stood still, For now it has spun a fair Threed, Says old Symon the King, &c.

6.

Here's a very good Clyster-pipe, Which was made of a Butchers stump; And oft-times it hath been us'd To cure the Colds of the RƲMP. Here's a lump of Pilgrims-Salve, Which once was a Justice of Peace,

Who Nol and the Devil did serve; But now it is come to This, Says old Symon the King, &c.

7.

Here's a Roll of States Tobacco, If any Good Fellow will take it: It's neither Virginia nor Spanish, But I'll tell you how they do make it; 'Tis Covenant mixt with Engagement, With an Abjuration-Oath; And many of them that did take it Complain it is foul in the mouth, Says old Symon the King, &c.

8.

Yet the Ashes may happily serve To Cure the Scab of the Nation, When they have an Itch to serve A Rebellion by Innovation. A Lanthorn here is be bought, The like was scarce e'r begotten; For many a Plot 't has found out, Before they ever were thought on, Says old Symon the King, &c.

9.

Will you buy the Rump••s great Saddle Which once did carry the Nation? And heres the Bitt and the Bridle, And Curb of Dissimulation Here's the Breeches of the Rump, With a fair dissembling Cloak, And a Presbyterian Jump, With an Independant Smock, Says old Symon the King, &c.

10.

Here's Oliver's Brewing-Vessels. And here's his Dray and his Slings, Here's Hewson's Aul and his Bristles, With divers other odd things. And what doth the Price belong To all these matters before-ye? I'le sell them all for an Old Song, And so I do end my story, Says old Symon the King, Says old Symon the King, With his thread bare Cloaths, and his mainsey Nose, Sing hey ding, ding, a ding ding.

Advice to the City: or, the Whigs Loyalty.

To a Theorbo.

1.

REmember ye Whigs what was formerly done, Remember your Mischiefs in Forty and One, When Friend oppos'd Friend, and Father the Son, Then, then the Old Cause went rarely on; The Cap sat aloft, and low was the Crown, The Rable got up, and the Nobles went down; Lay Elders in Tubs, Rul'd Bishops in Robes, Who mourn'd the sad Fate And dreadful Disaster, Of their Royal Master, By Rebels betray'd. Then London be wise, and baffle their Power. And let them play the old Game no more; Hang, hang up the Sheri•••••• Th•• Ba•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in Power, Those 〈…〉〈…〉, Thos•• Rats of the ••ower,

Whose Canting Tales the Rable believes, In a hurry▪ And never sorry▪ Merily they still go on, Fy for shame, We're too tame, since they claim the combat; Tan, ta, ra, ra, ra, Tan, ta, ra, ra, ra; Dub, a dub, and let the Drum beat, The strong Militia guard the Throne.

2.

When Faction possesses the popular Voice, The Cause is supply'd still with Non-sense & noise; And Toney their Speaker, the Rabble leads on, He knows if we prosper, that he must run. Carolina must be his next Station of ease, And London be rid of her worst Disease. From Plots and from Spies, From Treason and Lies, We shall ever be free, And the Law shall be able, To punish a Rebel As cunning as he. Then London be wise, &c.

3.

Rebellion ne'er wanted a Loyal pretence; These Villains swear all's for the good of their Prince: Oppose our Elections, to shew what they dare, And losing their Charter, Arrest the Lord Mayor. Fool Jenks was the first o'th' Cuckoldly Crew, With Ellis, and Jeykel, and Hubland the Jew. Fam'd Sparks of the Town, For Wealth and Renown,

Give the Devil his due, And such as we fear, Had their Sovereign been there, Th'had Arrested Him too. Then London be wise, &c.

Blanket Fair, or the History of Temple-street. Being a Relation of the merry Pranks plaid on the River of Thames during the great Frost.

Tune, Packington's Pound

1.

COme listen a while (though the Weather be cold) In your Pockets & Plackets your Hands you may hold. I••ll tell you a Story as t••ue as tis rare, Of a River turn'd into a Bartholomew Fair. Since old Christmas lust There has been such a Frost, That the Thames has by half the whole Nation been crost. O Scullers I pity your fate of Extreams, Each Land-man is now become free of the Thames.

2.

'Tis some ••a••land Acquaintance of Conjurer Oates, That has ty'd up your Hands & imprison'd your Boats You know he was ever a friend to the Crew Of all that to Admiral James has bin true. Where Sculls once did Row Men walk to and fro, But e're four months are ended 'will hardly be so. Should your hopes of a Tha•• by this weather be crost, Your Fortunes would soon be as hard as the Frost.

3.

In Roast Beef and Brand▪ much money is spent In Booths made of Blankets that pay no Ground-rent

With old fashion'd Chimneys the Rooms are secur'd And the Houses from danger of Fire ensur'd. The chief place you meet Is call'd Temple-street, If you do not believe me, then you may go see't. From the Temple the Students do thither resort, Who were always great Patrons of Revels & sport.

4.

The citizen comes with his Daughter or Wife, And swears he ne'r saw such a sight in his life: The Prentices starv'd at home for want of O••als, To catch them a heat do flock thither in shoals, While the Country Squire Does stand and admire At the wondrous conjunction of Water and Fire. Strait comes an arch Wag, a young Son of a Whore, And lays the Squires head where his heels ••ere be∣fore.

5.

The Rotterdam Dutchman with fleet cutting Scates, To pleasure the crowd shews his tricks & his feats, Who like a Rope-dancer (for all his sharp Steels) His Brains and activity lie in his Heels. Here are all things like fate Are in slippery state, From the sole of the Foot to the crown of the Pate. While the Rabble in Sledges run giddily round, And nought but a circle of folly is found.

6.

Here Damsels are handed like Nymphs in the Bath, By Gentlemen-Ʋshers with Legs like a Lath; They slide to a Tune, and cry give me your Hand, When the tottering Fops are scarce able to stand. Then with fear and with care They arrive at the Fair,

Where Wenches sell Glasses & crackt Earthen ware; To shew that the World, & the pleasures it brings, Are made up of brittle and slippery things.

7.

A Spark of the Bar with his Cane and his Muff, One day went to treat his new rigg'd Kitchinstuff, Let slip from her Gallant, the gay Damsel try'd (As oft she had done in the Country) to slide, In the way lay a stump, That with a damn'd Thump, She broke both her Shooe-strings & cripl'd her Rump. The heat of her Buttocks made such a great thaw. She had like to have drowned the man of the Law.

8.

All you that are warm both in Body and Purse, I give you this warning for better or worse, Be not there in the Moonshine pray take my advice For slippery things have been done on the Ice. Maids there have been said To lose Maiden-head, And Sparks from full Pockets gone empty to Bed. If their Brains and their Bodies had not been too warm, 'Tis forty to one they had come to less harm.

Freezland-Fair, or the Icey Bear-Garden.

Tune, Packington's Pound.

1.

I'Ll tell ye a Tale tho' before 'twas in Print) If you make nothing on't, than the Devil is in't 'Tis no tale of a Tub, nor the Plotting of Treason, But of very strange things have been done this strange Season. Ye know there's a Brook, No, no, I mistook,

For I could not find it, tho' long I did look; Yet I do not question, for all these odd freaks, We shall find it again when-e're the Frost breaks.

2.

If ye do believe what was told us by Oats, Ye never again will have use of your Boats; Without ye do now imploy th' Wheelers to do't, Ye never ne'r will be able to bring all about. He talkt of a Plot, Believe it, or not, To blow up the Thames, and to do't on the Spot; Then either the Doctor must now be believ'd, Or else the Doctor and we are deceiv'd

3.

No Water I see which does fairly incline, To make me believe that he has Sprung his Mine; Tho' that did not do what the Doctor intended, Yet he may for one thing be said to be commended: He said that the Pope, Pray mind, 'tis a Trope, Wou'd send us his Bulls, by the way of the Hope; And tho' for the sight we have all along bin waiting I t'other day saw on the Ice a Bull-baiting.

4.

I hope you'll believe me, 'twas a fine Sight, As ever I saw on a Queen Besses Night; Tho' I must confess I saw no such Dogs there, As us'd to attend on th' Infallible Chair. Yet there were some Men. Whom I knew again, Who bawl'd as they did, when they chose Aldermen. And Faith it had bin a most excellent Show. Had there bin but some Crackers and Serpents to throw.

5.

Another thing pleas'd me, as I hope for Life, I saw of a Man that had gotten a Wife To see the rare W••imsies, the Woman was sick, So never suspected a slippery Trick: But when she came there, The Ice wou'd not bear, But whether 'twas his fault or hers, I can't swear; Yet thus far is true, had he lost his Wife, He then might have pray'd for a Frost all his life

6.

There's very fine Tricks, & new subject for Laugh∣ter, For there you may take a Coach and go by Water, So get a Tarpauling too, as you are Jogging, Tho' a Nymph t'other day for it got a good Flog∣ging. There was an old Toast, Of Beef had a Roast, Which fell into th' Sellar, and fairly was lost. O see in old Proverbs sometimes there is truth, A man is not sure of his Meat till in's Mouth.

7.

But I had forgot my chief bus••ness I swear, To give an Account of new Temple street Fair; Where most of the Students do daily resort, To shew the great love they had always for sport. Who oft give a Token, I hope't may be spoken, To Whore in a Mask, who squeaks like a Pig a Poke in To see such crack't Vessels sail is a new matter, Who have bin so shatter'd between Wind & Water.

8.

Like Babel this Fair's not built with Brick or stone Though here I believe is as great Confusion; Now Blanckets are forc'd double Duty to pay,

On Beds all the night, and for Houses all day; But there's something more, Some people deplore, Their carelesly leaving open Sellar door, Which puts me in mind of Jack Presbyter's trick, Who from Pulpit descends the like way to old Nick,

9.

Come all ye young Damsels both swarthy and fair, This is the best place to put off your Crackt Ware; Here's Chapmen good store who too't stifly will stand, And scorn to put Coin that is false in your Hand: While you're there abiding, And on the Ice Gliding, Let 'em say what they will, 'tis but a back-sliding: But if ye shou'd Prove, then say I am a Prophet, Tho' tis a slippery trick there shall come no more of it

10.

There's many more Tricks, but too long to be told, Which are not all new, tho' there's none of 'em old There's the Fellow that Printeth the Old Bailey Trial Who to all the dull Printers does give a Denyal; He'll Print for a S••ce, (For that is his price Your Name (that you brag may 'twas done) on the Ice. And Faith I do think it a very fine thing, So my Tale's at an end, but first, God save the King,

Toney's Soliloquies.

Tune, The Lamentation of a bad Market.

1.

WHen the Plot I first invented, I was ravisht in conceit, To see its Frame so well cemented, Varnish'd over with Deceit.

It was an Infant of my Spirit, Nay, the Darling of my Soul, If its contrivance be a Merit, By Jove the Cooper did well Boul.

2.

For to give this Engine Motion, To arrive where it did tend, I fill'd the Vulgar ears with 'Notions, And Gospel of my Oaten Friend; I antedated all Transactions, Distinguisht Stiles of New and Old, In the State I made such Fractions; Some I Bought, and some I Sold.

3.

The Mobile I so distemper'd, With the Magick of my Care, None but wou'd his Soul have ventur'd Where brave Toney bore a Share; Have I not in Abomination Held the Miter and Lawn Sleeves, And Itcht at a second Sequestration, To pull down such Ghostly Theeves.

4.

Have I not Taught the Sanhedrim▪ To Imperate and not Obey? Th' had Genuflections done to them, Which men to Crowned Heads do pay. Then would I Barter for Repeal O'th Five and Thirtieth of Q. Bess, To make a way for Commonweal, (The Centre of our Happiness.)

5.

How many hot and high Debates, In favour of th' Exclusive Bill,

I bandy'd 'twixt the two Estates, Th' effects of my depraved will! By Subornation, to the Block I brought, a Loyal Noble Peer; And trusted others to that Lock, Which cost my Buck and me so dear.

6.

In fine, poor profligated Wretch, For to indulge my Minion Spight, My Seared Conscience I did stretch, And did Old Rowley's Guards Indict I did espouse all Wickedness, And only lov'd what's purely Evil; In that alone was my excess; Then take thy own Associate, Devil.

Rejoyce in Tryumph, Or a Plaudite on the Otta∣mens defeat at Vienna.

Tune, Hark how the thundring Connons roar.

1.

I'M glad to hear the Cannons roar Resounding from the German shoar, Better News than heretofore, That Babels Beast is wounded; The Christians brave, both all and some Charge with the Horse and Kettle-Drum, The Enemy of Christendom, Till ••urks are quite confounded.

2.

The King of Poland (in a Phraise) The great Grand-Seigneur did amaze, And the noise his Siege did raise, Couragious Solymannus! (If you resolve to come again)

You must recruit both might and main, Or else it will be all in vain, To think that thy'l trepan us.

3.

His Christian Majesty of France Doth Booty play, the Germans dance, And he doth laugh at our mischance, Himself he dare not venter; But Pimp the Beast, and Babels Whore, And he ••o-peep stands at the door, While the wanton Cannon roar, Then Hector-like he'l enter.

4.

But spite on Turk, and Great Mogul, And Pox upon the Scarlet Trull, And we Poppie too dare pull, If Charles be our Commander; For though He Neutral seem to be, He can command both Land and Sea, And over-throw the big-look'd Three, And trace brave Alexander.

5.

Then let no rancor joyn'd with hate Make Ruptures in the Church or State, But all submit to Divine Fate, And keep within our Border; Let none old England then forsake, (Since Crowns and Kingdoms lye at Stake) If Forreign War to undertake, Till Charles get further Order.

6.

The Germans tall that heretofore, They Captive took one Bull and Boar, The Minotaurus of a Whore,

Did roar like any Thunder; Then P. P. how could this be The Great Gibralter of the Sea? Whose Army was to Fight with thee And force the World to wonder.

7.

But Ottomon pray get you gone, We Christians do but draw you on; We'l greater Booty have, or none, And if you'l not prevent it; If ever you turn your Face this way We'l make the Cannon musick play, And you shall Dance the English Hay, Till all your bones lament it.

8.

Our Royal James will make you know The sharpness of a York-shire Ho, And prove by Land, and Sea your Foe If Charles command to do it; Both England, Scotland, Dutch and Dane, And all his Islands of the M••••h Will not be able to refrain; If he once say do it.

9

Then fill the Piss-pot to the Swine, Heap me a rousing Glass of Wine, The dancing Thames shall pledge the Rhine And Tyber shall be Praeses; Then heres to Charles that rules the Main, To Poland, Holland, Scot and Dane, To Germany, and brave Lorrain; But pray you po••us ne sis.

Cupid turn'd Musqueteer.

Tune, Which no body can deny.

ALas what's is like to become of the Plot Now To••ey••s dead, and Titus is go•• In so fair a prospect of going to Pot? Which no body can deny. They say he has lately reviv'd an old trick, Which he us'd as a Med'cine when he was Love sick, Page, Bayliff or Bum to take in the Nick, Which no body can deny. Now Titus for one of his Saints Tutelars, Had got a young Fellow as Brawny as Mars, With a thousand invincible Charms in his A— Which no body can deny. A large pair of Buttocks as ever was seen, With a delicate Nut-brown hole between, And rascally Cupid lay lurking Within. Which no body can deny. Whence Centinel-like with his Gun in his hand, He spy'd out the Doctor & charg'd him to stand, Not doubting but He would obey his command Which no body can deny. But he disobey'd; which when Cupid espy'd, He quickly presented: Have-at-you he cry'd, And lodg'd him a Bullet in his left side, Which no body can deny, &c. 'Tis true he was arm'd (as Poets have told) With only a Bowe and a Quiver of old, And Arrows for Love, which were headed with Gold, Which no &c. Which still he does use, as h'has formerly done, When th'old way of Loving he means to drive on But for this new way he makes use of a Gun, Which no, &c.

The Gun went off bounce, yet the Dr. n'er started Which was some effect of his being stout-hearted, For he only thought that the Fellow had farted, Which no body can deny. But quickly he found he had cause to repent it, For Cupid had poison'd the shot••e••r he sent it, With somthing so strong, you might easily scent it. Which no body can deny. This poison so basely debases Loves Fires, That the foulest of object▪ ••he Lover admires, And so it inclin'd the good Doctor's Desires, Which no body can deny. For he fell in love ('tis a kind of a Riddle) Immediately with this great Fellows Bumfiddle; But chiefly he s••irkt at the Slit in the middle, Which no body can deny. Quoth he in a rage, What a plague have you done? Your Barrel is foul, I'll lay Twenty to One; But I have a Rammer will scour your Gun, Which no body can deny. Nay, never refuse, but leave off your winking; There's no body near, & 'tis just to my thinking, That I shou'd chastize you thus for your stinking Which no body can deny. So down went the Breeches, and he fell to work; About him he laid, as he had been a Turk: And so this great bus'ness was done with a Jerk, Which no body can deny. And truly the bus'ness was great in its kind; For the Fellow was very well scour'd behind, And the Dr. was eas'd both in Body and Mind, Which no body can deny.

No Protestent-Plot; or, the Whigs Loyalty With the Doctor's New Discovery,

1.

HElls restless Factious Agents still Plot on, And Eighty Three smells rank of Forty One; The Royal Martyrs Foes pursue his Son, Who seek their Lives with Blunderbuss and Guns; The Infernal Regicides so inflam'd with Zeal, Are for killing King & Duke, t'Erect a Commonweal This is the daily Trade & practice of our Modern Whiggs, Tho' they're always baffled in their damn'd In∣trigues.

2.

What! Ho! cryes Titus, rise ye sleepy Heads, Unless you'l all be Murder'd in your Beds; Fierce Hannibal of France is at your Gate, Come Rascals, Mutiny e'er 'tis too late: The Spanish Pilgrims once hir'd to cut your Throats Are Landed now at Milford Haven, believe your Saviour Oats; And the Horrid Popish Army, that were hid under Ground, Are, I'll take my Oath, within a Trumpets Sound.

3.

See there, a Fighting Army in the Air! But now it vanishes, and disappears; A Spectre told strange Things to Honest Bess, Which much amaz'd the Hatfield Prophetess; I told 'em true at first, what Black Designs would be Carry••d on against the King, and Royal Alban••, By the discontended Whiggs; but Rebel Tony since, Made me contradict my former evidence.

4.

I've lost my Swearing Trade, now by this Hand,

Must I be forc'd to starve, or leave the Land•• My injur'd Prince has long since on me frown'd, For Perjuries against his Life and Crown: I'll follow Rumbold, Wade, Nelthrop, Walcot, Hone, With that Cruel Blood-Hound Barton, who've all fled the Town; For if I carry here any longer, I harbour dread∣ful Fears, That I shall be Hang'd, or forfeit both my Ears.

5.

Unparallel'd Assassines, that could dare To attempt the Life of Jove's Vice-Gerent here: Of whom the Gods do take such special care, None ought to mutter Treason to the Air; But cut-Throat Protestants may do any thing, And Inform the Roman Catholicks how to Murder Kings; They take it in great Dudgeon to be equaliz'd Yet their Hellish Crimes must pass for Loyalty.

6.

But thanks to Heaven, who did curb their Power, And has preserved us from that Fatal Hour: When Villains were to Massacre us all, And Noll's Successors to possess White-hall; Rumsey has taken up White hall for his Bower, And the Lord Russel is gone to fortifie the Tower: Whilst we that stand for Church and State, with great security can Sing. And Pray Jove to preserve the Life of Charles our King.

The Loyal Conquest, or Destruction of Treason.

Tune, Lay by your Pleading, the Law ly's a Bleeding.

1.

NOw Loyal Tories May Tryumph in Glories,

The Fatal Plot is now betray'd, The rest were Shams and Stories. Now against Treason, We have Law and Reason; And e'ry Bloody Whig must go, To Pot in Time and Season. No Shamming, nor Flamming, No Ramming, nor Damming, No Ignoramus Jury's now, For Whigs, but only Hanging,

2.

Look a little farther, Place things in order, Those that seek to Kill their King, Godfrey might Murther, Now they'r Detected, By Heaven Neglected; In black dispair cut their Throats, Thus Pluto's Work's effected. No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.

3.

Catch grows in Passion, And fears this New Fashion; Lest ev'ry Traytor hang himself, And spoyl his best Profession. Tho' four in a Morning Tyburn Adorning; He Cryes out for a Score a time, To get his Men their Learning. No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.

4.

Now we have founded The bottom which confounded, Our Plotting Parliament of late

Who had our King surrounded. Hamden and others, And Trenchard were Brothers; Who were to kill the King and Duke And hang us for their Murthers. No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.

5.

Surprising the Tower And Court in an Hour, And enter in at the Traytors Gate, But was not in their Power. Our Guards now are Doubled, E're long they will be Trebled, The Harmony of Gun and Drum, Makes Guilty Conscience Troubled. No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.

6.

If Grey is Retaken, The Root o'th' Plot is shaken, Russel lately lost his Head, The Bleeding Cause to Waken. M—h in Town still, With Armstrong his Council▪ The Lady G—y may find him out, Under some Smock or Gown still. No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.

7.

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 Caniballs

That ever men did Read on. No Shamming, nor Flamming, No Ramming nor Damming, No Ignoramus Jury's now, For Whiggs, b••t onl•• Hanging.

State and Ambition, A New SONG at the Dukes Theatre.

STate and Ambition alas will deceive ye, there's no solid joy but the Blessing of Love, Scorn does of pleasure fair Silvia bereave ye, your fame is not perfect till that you remove: Monarch's that sway the vast Globe in their glory now Love is their brightest jewel of Power, Poor Strephon's heart was ordain'd to adore ye, ah! then disdain his Passion no more.

2.

Jove in his Throne was the Victim of Beauty, his thunder laid by he from Heaven came down Shap'd like a Swan, to fair Leda paid duty, and priz'd her far more, than his Heavenly Crown She too was pleas'd with her Beautiful Lover, she strok'd his fair Plumes and feasted her Eye, And he too in loving knew well how to move her, by Billing begins the business of Joy.

3.

Since Divine Powers examples have given, If we do not follow their precepts we sin, Sure 'twill appear an affront to their Heaven, If when the Gates open we enter not in; Beauty my dearest was from the beginning, ordained to cool Mans amorous rage, And she that against that decree will be sinning in Spring, she will find the Winter of Age.

4.

Think on the pleasure while Love's in its glory, let not your scorn Loves great Altar disgrace, The time may come when no Swain will adore ye or smooth the least wrinkle age lays on your face; Then hast to enjoyment whilst love is fresh blooming, and in thy height and vigour of day. Each minute we lose, our pleasure's consuming, and seven years to come, will not one past repay.

5.

Think my dear Silvia, the Heavenly blessing, of loving in Youth, is the Crown of our days, Short are the hours where Love is possessing; but tedious the minuits when crost with delays Love's the soft Anvil where Nature's agreeing, all mankind are form'd, and by it they move, 'Tis thence my dear Silvia and I have our being, the Caesar and Swain spring from Almighty Love.

6.

I see my dear Silvia at last has consented, that blush in your Cheek does plainly appear, And nought but delay shall be ever repented, so faithful I'll prove, and so true to my Dear Then Hymen prepare, and light all thy Torches, perfume thy head Altar, and strew all the way, By little degrees Love makes his approaches, but Revels at night for the loss of the day.

Pluto, the Prince of Darkness, his Entertainment of Collonel Algernoon Sidney, upon his Arrival at the Infernal Palace

Tune, Hail to Mirtle Shade,

Pluto.

Room for great Algernoon, You Furies that stand in his ••ay;

Let an Officer to me come, who serv'd me every day, Promoting Sedition and Evil, To alter the Church and State, He deserves an Imployment in Hell, He has done great service of late.

Pluto.

He's one of the Damn'd old Crew, Who Voted the Death of the King; At Oxford again he did sue To be at the self-same thing. All Mischiefs on Earth he devis'd, All hazards he also did run, To render my Name solemniz'd With the Rabble of London Town.

Pluto.

To Monarchy he was a Foe, Religion he always disdain'd, 'Gainst Government and Laws too, Damn'd Anarchy he maintain'd: I'll give Thee Preferment here, Since England has banisht thee thence, Brave Sidney thou need'st not fear, Thou shalt have great recompence.

Shaftsbury.

Now Monarchy has prevail'd, Our Fanatick Plots to defeat, On whom is the Cause entail'd? Who'l stand it in spight of Fate? We that maintain'd it so long From Justice were forced to flye; If you then had come along, You needed not there to die.

Essex.

The Factious are quite undone, For loss of the Fanatick Peers: Now Shaftsbury and I are gone, Poor Oates has lost his Ears? For M—h our Shams and Intrigues To th'World has plainly declar'd, And H—d our solemn Leagues, In the Plot a long time prepar'd.

Russel.

I'm glad you are safe arriv'd, Tho' I doubt you met Jack by the way Now M—h is reconcil'd, What a plague is become of Gray? Rebellion could ne'r disallow Conspiring against the Prince, Though I by a Sham-dying Vow Did plead great Innocence.

The Kings Health, set to Farrinel's Grounds. In six PARTS,

First Strain.

JOy to Great Caesar, Long Life, Love and Pleasure; 'Tis a Health that Divine is, Fill the Bowl high as mine is; Let none fear a Feaver, But take it off thus Boys; Let the King leave for ever, 'Tis no matter for us Boys.

Second Strain.

TRy all the Loyal, Defy all, Give denial;

Sure none thinks his Glass too big here, Nor any Prig here, Or Sneaking Whig here, Of Cripple Tony's Crew, That now looks blew, His Heart Akes too, The Tap wo'nt do, His Zeal so true, And Projects new, Ill Fate does now pursue.

Third Strain.

LEt Tories Guard the King, Let Whigs in Halters swing; Let Pilk and Shute be sham'd, Let Bugg'ring Oates be damn••d; Let Cheating Player be nick'd, The Turn-coat Scribe be kick'd; Let Rebel City Don's Never beget their Sons; Let ev'ry Whiggish Peer That Rapes a Lady fair, And leaves his only Dear The Sheets to gnaw and tear, Be punish'd out of Hand, And forc'd to pawn his Land T'attone the grand Affair.

Fourth Strain

GReat Charles, like Jehovah, spares those would un-King him, And warms with His Graces the Vipers that sting Him; 'Till Crown'd with just Anger the Rebels he seizes: Thus Heaven can Thunder when ever it pleases.

Jigg.

THen to the Duke fill, fill up the Glass, The Son of our Martyr, belov'd of the King▪ Envy'd and Lov'd, Yet Bless'd from above, Secur'd by an Angel safe under his Wing.

Sixth Strain.

FAction and Folly, And State Melancholly, With ••ony in Whigland for ever shall dwell; Let Wit, Wine, and Beauty, Then teach us our Duty, For none e're can Love, or be Wise and Rebel.

A New SONG on the Instalment of Sir John Moor Lord Mayor of London.

Tune, St. George for England.

YOu London Lads rejoyce, And cast away your Care, Since with one Heart and Voice Sir John is chosen Mayor; The Famous Sir John Moore, Lord Mayor of London Town, To your eternal Praise, Shall stand a Subject of Renown, Amongst your Famous Worthies Who have been most esteem'd; For Sir John, Sir John, Your Honour hath redeem'd. Sir John He's for the Kings Right, Which Rebels would destroy. Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.

When with a Hide-bound Mayor The Town was in Distraction, Sir John leapt in the Chair, And cur'd the Hall of Faction: He to the People shew'd Their Duty and Allegiance; How to the Sacred King and Laws They pay their due Obedience. Sir George unto the People A Loyal Speech did give; But Sir John, Sir John, Your Honour did retrieve. Sir John is for Allegiance, Which Rebels wou••d destroy. Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.

When thou wast lost, O London, In Faction and Sedition; By Whigs and Zealots undone, While they were in Commission; When Treason, like old Nol's Brigade, Did gallop through the Town, And Loyalty, (a tir'd Jade,) ••ad cast her Rider down; The Famous Sir George Jeffereys Your Charter did maintain; But Sir John, Sir John, Restor'd your Fame again. Sir John is for the Monarchy, Which Rebels wou'd destroy. Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.

When th' Mayor, with Sheriffs mounted, Sad Jalousies contriv'd, And all the Town run after,

As if the Devil driv'd, Then Famous Sir John Moore Thy Loyalty restor'd, And Noble Sir George Jefferys, Who did thy Acts record: Sir George of all the Heroes Deserves the formost place; But Sir John, Sir John, Hath got the Sword and Mace. Sir John he is for Justice, Which Rebels wou'd destroy. Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.

Sir Patience would have the Court Submit unto the City; Whitehall stoop to the Change, And is not that a pity? Sh. Bethel (save Allegiance) Thinks nothing a Transgression: Sir Tom rails at the Lawful Prince, Sir Bob at the ••uccession: While still the brave Sir George Does their Fury interpose: But Sir John, Sir John Maintains the Royal Cause. Sir John is for his Highness, Whom Rebels wou'd destroy. Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.

Sir Patience for a Parliament, Sh Bethel a Petition Instead of an Address, cram'd brimful of Sedition. Sir Tom he he is for Liberty, Against Prerogative:

Sir Bob is for the Subjects Right, But will no Justice give: And brave Sir George does All their Famous Deeds Record; But Sir John, Sir John Your Loyalty restor'd. Sir John He's for the Int'rest, Which Rebels would destroy, Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.

Sir Patience he calls for Justice, And then the Wretch will sham us. Sh•• Bethel he packs a Jury Well vers'd in Ignoramus: Sir Tom wou'd hang the Tory, And let the Whig go free: Sir Bob wou'd have a•• Commonwealth, And cry down Monarchy. While still the brave Sir George Does all their Deeds Record; But Sir John, Sir John Your Loyalty restor'd. Sir John He is for Justice, Which Rebels wou'd destroy. Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.

And may such Loyal Mayors As honest Sheriffs find; Such Sheriffs find a Jury Will to the King be kind; And may the King live long, To rule such People here; And may he such a Lord Mayor find, And Sheriffs every year;

That Traytors may receive The Justice of the Laws, While Sir John, Sir John Maintains the Royal Cause. Sir John is for the King still, Whom Rebels would destroy. Vive, Vive, Vive le Roy.

The Whig-Intelligencer: or, Sir Samuel in the Pound, for publishing Scandalous and Seditious Letters, for which he was Flu'd 10000 l.

Tune, Hark! the thundring Cannons roar.

1.

HArk! the fatal day is come, Fatal as the day of Doom, For Sir Samuel there make room, So fam'd for Ignoramus: He whose Conscience cou'd allow Such large favours you know how, If we do him Justice now, The Brethren will not blame us.

2.

Stand to the Bar, and now advance, Morden, Kendrick, Otes and Prance; But let the Foreman lead the Dance, The rest in course will follow; Tilden, Kendrick, next shall come, And with him receive their Doom, Ten thousand Pound, at which round Sum The Hall set up a Halloo. Brave Sir Barnard—on now, Who no Main would e'r allow To lose ten thousand at a throw, Was pleas'd to all mens thinking:

Ten thousand pounds! a dismal note, Who before had giv••n his Vote, Not to give King a Groat, To save the Throne from sinking

4.

But yet there's a Remedy, Before the King shall get by me, I'll quit my darling Liberty; Nor will I give Bail for't: For e're the Crown shall get a Groat In opposition to my Vote, I••ll give 'em leave to cut my Throat Altho' I lye in Goal for't.

5.

Were't for Mon—h, I'de not grieve, O•• Brave Russel to retrieve, Or that Sidney yet might live, Twice told, I'd not complain, Sir: Nay, what's more, my whole Estate, With my Bodkins, Spoons, and Plate, So I might reduce the State To a Commonwealth again, Sir.

6.

Or that Mon. were in Grace, Or Sir Sam. in Jeffery's place, To spit his Justice in the Face, For acting Law and Reason, Or that the Torys went to pot, Or we could prove it a Sham Plot, Or Essex did not cut his Throat; Or Plotting were not Treason.

7.

Thus I'd freely quit my Coyn; But with Torys to combine,

Or keep the Heir in the right Line, That Popery be in fashion, To see the Holy Cause run down, While Mighty York is next the Crown And Perkin's forc'd to flye the Town: Oh vile Abomination!

8.

Sooner than ••bedience owe To their Arbitrary Law, Or my Bail in danger draw, For Breach of good Behaviour; I with Bethel, and the rest O'th' Birds, in Cage will make my Nest, And keep my Fine to Plot and Feast, Till Mon— be in Favour.

Oates Thrash'd in the Compter, and Sack'd-up in Newgate.

Tune, Hail to the Myrtle Shades; &c.

1.

HAil to the Prince of the Plot, All hail to the Knight of the Post; Poor Titus! 'tis now thy Lot To pay for all the Rost: From Wine and six Dishes a day Is sure a deplorable Fate, To fall to the Basket, and pray For an Alms through an Iron-grate.

2.

Titus who once was a Prince, Now Titus a Captive in Gaol; Titus who lov'd a Wench, Or any thing wore a Tail; Titus who made a full pass At a following Bum in the Room,

Is clapt up himself by th' Ar—, And cannot reverse his Doom.

3.

Did Titus swear true for the King, And is the good Doctor forsworn? Did Titus our Freedom bring, And Otes in Newgate mourn? Was Titus the Light of the Town, The Saviour and Guardian proclaim'd, And now the poor Doctor thrown To a Dungeon, in Darkness damn'd?

4.

But now, to declare the cause, I'll tell you as brief as I can, The Doctor can't in the close Prove Titus an honest Man: Can Titus be just to the King, From Treason and Treachery free, When the Doctor hangs in a String, For Plotting and Perjury?

5.

For Damage the Doctor has done, Poor Titus is got in the Pound, 'Till the Doctor produce the Sum, Full Thirty thousand pound: If you knew on what damnable score Such perilous words he brought forth, You'd say his false Tongue cost more Than ever his Head was worth.

6.

The Doctor an Evidence Against our Great Duke did come in; Nay, such was his Insolence, To impeach our Gracious Queen:

For Which such Indictments are brought, Such Actions of Scandal crowd in, That Titus could wish, tis thought, He were out of the Doctor's Skin.

7.

Nay, further, while Titus swore For the Safety and Life of the King, The Doctor began to roar, And belch'd out his poyson'd Sting: The Doctor for Titus may stretch, H'has so brought his bus'ness about, Without the kind help of Ketch It's fear'd he will scarce get out:

8.

Through sixteen close Key-holes, 'tis plain, Invisible Titus did pass, And the Doctor got back again, To catch a great Don at Mass: But now they are both in the Trap, 'Tis a Wager but Jack in the Fields, (Tho' Titus may chance to 'scape,) Has the Doctor fast by the heels.

A new way to Play an old Game.

Tune, Would you be a man of fashion,

1.

HAve you heard of Forty-One Sir, When the Cause did thrive amain; Tony's Tap did freely run Sir, Tap did freely run Sir, And confronted Charles his Wain? When the Commons thought it Reason, And a meritorious thing, To use Villany and Treason, And made Charles a Glorious King.

Have you heard of Eighty-Three Sir, When a deeper Plot was lay'n, When the Rascals did agree Sir, Rascals did agree Sir? To play o're the same again? When to act their Reformation, Nought their Fury would suffice; But they needs must Purge the Nation, By a Royal Sacrifice.

3.

Have you seen those Motly-Martys, That did suffer for the Cause, Swinging in their Tyburn Garters, In their Tyburn-Garters, To Attone their Sacred Laws? If the Blunderbuss▪ shou'd miss Sir, And shou'd fail to kill the King, There are other means should hit Sir, And perform the Glorious Thing.

4.

To his Name a Statue's due Sir. Higher than the Monument, Who this mighty Deed shall do Sir, Mighty Deed shall do Sir, So Great, so Good, so Excellent: Future Ages shall him Crown Sir, And shall bless the happy hour, And Religion shall fall down Sir, And adore her Saviour.

5.

Thus the Boasting Bigots Canted, (Big with hopes of Common-weal) Thus the Priestly Villain Ranted, Priestly Villain Ranted, In a Drunken sit of Zeal:

But their Plots were all in vain Sir, And their Haughty rash Career, Signs and Wonders make it plain Sir, Kings are Heavens peculiar Care.

The Loyal Irish-mam.

Tune, Irish Trot, or Fingaul Jigg.

1.

MY bony dear Shony, My Crony, my Honey Why dost thou grumble And keep in thy words so; Sighing, and Crying, And Groaning, and Frowning, Ah why dost thou still Lay thy hand on thy Sword so? What if the Traytors Will talk of State-matters, And rail at the King, Without Cause or Reason: We'll Love on, and let Business alone, For Billing and Kissing Will ne'r be found Treason,

2.

Plotting, and Sotting, And Railing, and Fooling; Gods Nowns, with the Rable Is now all the Fashion: Swearing and Tearing, Caballing and Brawling; By Chriest and St. Patrick Will ruine the Nation: He's but a Widgeon That talks of Religion

Since Rebels are now The Reformers and Teachers, Sodom's Disciple Debauches the People, Good Heaven defend us From more of such Preachers.

3.

Visions, Seditions, And Railing Petitions, The Rable receive, And are wondrous merry: All can remember The Fifth of November, But no man the Thirtieth of January: Talking of Treason Without any Reason, Will lose the poor City Its Bountiful Charter: The Commons haranging. Will bring them to Hanging, Though each Puppy hopes To be Knight of the Garter.

4.

C—on and P—on Papillion that Villain, With Cornish and Ward Are the Monarchy Hunters; Rascals too low are, To lodge in the Tower, And scarcely are fitting To fill up the Compter; Bethel is ••led too, And Toney is dead too, Our Fate to befriend us, Made bold to strike sirs:

Routed the Bigot, And pull'd out the Spigot, His Fame and his Body Now stink alike Sir.

A Litany from Geneva, In answer to that from St Omers.

FRom the Tap in the Guts of the Honorable Stump, From which runs Rebellion, that stinks like the Rump, On purpose to leven the Factious Lump, Libera nos Domine. From him that aspires as high as the Crown, And vows to pull Copes and Cathedrals down, Fit only to govern the World in the Moon. Libera nos. From the Prick-ear'd Levite, that can without pain Swear Black into White, then Ʋnswear it again; Whose Name did design him a Villain in Grain, Libera nos. From his Black-Bills, and Pilgrims with Sticks in their hands That came to make a Religious Band, Then Ravish our Wives, and Inhabit our Land, Libera nos. From the Mouth of the City that never gives o••r To complain of Oppressions unheard-of before, And yet for his Letchery will not quit score, Libera nos. From the Cent per Cent Scriv'ner, & all his State-tricks That cryer out of Intemp'rance, who yet will not stick To clear a young Spend-thrift's Estate at a lick, Libera nos. From the Force and the Fire of the Insolent Rable, That wou'd hurl the Government into a Babel, And from the nice Fare of the Mouse-starver's Table Libera nos.

From the Elder in New street, that Goggles & Cants Then turns up his Whites, to nose it, and pants, And at the same time plays the Devil and Saint, Libera nos. From Jenkin's Homilies drawn through the Nose, From Langley, Dick, Baldwin, and all such as those, And from Brawney Settle's Poem in Prose, Libera nos. From a Surfeit occasion'd by Protestant Feasts, From Sedition for Sawce, and Republicks for Guests, With Treason for Grace-Cup, or Faction at least, Libera nos. From the Conscience of Ci••s resembling their Dames, That in private are Nice, but in publick so Tame, That they will not stick out for a Touch of the same, Libera nos. From the blind Zeal of all Democratical Tools, From Whigland, and all its Anarchical Rules, Devised by Knaves, and Imposed on Fools, Libera nos. From the Late Times Reviv'd, when Religion was gain, And Church-Plate was seiz'd for Reliques Prophane, Since practic'd by Searching Sir William again, Libera nos. From such Reformation where Zealots begun, To preach Heaven must by firm Bulwarks be won And Te Deum sung from the mouth of a Gun, Libera nos. From Parliamentarians, that out of their Love And Care for His Majesty's Safety, wou'd prove The securest way were His Guards to remove, Libera nos.

From Sa••cy Petitions, that serve to inflame us, From all who for the Association are famous, From the Devil, the Doctor, & the damn'd Ignoramus Libera nos.

The Norwich Loyal Litany.

DEfend us from all Popish Plots, That so the People fray; And eke also from Treacherous Scots, As bad or worse than they.

From Parliaments long Rumps and Tails, From House of Commons Furies, Defend us eke from Protestant Flayls, And Ignoramus Juries.

Protect us now, and evermore, From a white Sheet and Proctor: And from that Noble Peer brought o're The Salamanca Doctor.

A Doctor with a Witness sure, Both in his Rise and Fall: His Exit almost as obscure As his Original.

Designs and Dangers far Remove, From this Distressed Nation, And Damn' the Trayterous Model of Bold Tony's Association

And may the Prick-Ear'd Party that Have Coin enough in Cupboard, Forbear to Shiver an Estate, And Splinters mount for Hobart.

From sixteen self-conceited Peers, Protect our Soveraign still;

And from the Dam'd Petitioners, For the Exclusive Bill.

Guard (Heaven) great Charles, and his Estate 'Gainst Tony upon Tony; And from the House of Commons, that Will give the King no Money.

From those that did design and laugh, At Tangier in Distress; And were Mahometans worse by half, Then all the Moors of Fez

From such as with Usurping hand, Drive Princes to Extreams; Confound all their Devices, and Deliver Charles, and James.

But may the beauteous Youth come home, And do the thing that's fit, Or I must tell that Absalom, He has more Hair then Wit.

May he be wise, and soon expel Th' old Fox, th' old Fawning Elf; The time draws nigh Achitophel, Shan't need to hang himself.

This Jury I've Empanel'd here, Of honest lines and true, Whom you••l I doubt at Westminster, Will find Ignoramus too.

A new Litany to be Sung in all Conventicles for In∣struction of the Whigs

Tune, call••d Cavalilly Man.

1.

FRom Counsels of Six▪ where Treason prevails, From raising Rebellion in England and Wales,

From Rumbolds short Cannons, and Protestant-Flayls▪ For ever O Fate deliver me.

2.

From Shaftsbury's Tenets, and Sydneys Old Hint. From seizing the King by the Rabbles Consent, From owning the Fact, and denying the Guilt, For ever, &c.

3.

From Aiming at Crowns and indulging the sin, From playing Old-Noll's Game over again; From a Son and a Rebel, stuft up in one skin, For ever, &c.

4.

From Swearing of Lyes like a Knight of the Post, From Pilgrims of Spain, that should Land on our Coast, From a Plot like a Turd, swept about till its Lost, For ever, &c.

5.

From Oats's clear Evidence when he was Vext, From hearing him squeak out Hugh Peters old Text▪ From Marrying one Sister, and Raping the next, For ever, &c.

6.

From tedious Confinement by Parliament Votes, From B—ts Whig Sermons with Marginal Notes; From saving our Heads, by Cutting our Throats, For ever, &c.

7.

From Presbyter Bandogs, that Bite and not Bark, From losing ones Brains by a blow in the Dark▪ From our Friends in More-fields and those at More-park, For ever, &c.

8

From Citizens Consciences and their Wives foul Itch, Prom Marrying a Widdow that looks like a Witch, From following the Court with design to be Rich, For ever, &c.

9.

From Trimmers arraigning a Judge on the Bench, From slighting the Guards, that we know will not Flinch,

And from the Train'd-Bands Royal-Aid at a Pinch, For ever, &c.

10.

From all that to Caesar sham duty Express, That cringe at his Coach, and smile in his ••ace, And two years ago thought it scorn to Address, For ever, &c.

11.

From having the Gout, and a very Fair Daughter, From being oblig'd to our Friend cross the Water From Strangling & Fleying, & what follows after, For ever, &c.

12.

From Wit that lies hidden in gay Pantaloons, From Womens ill Nature as frail as the Moons, From Francky's lame Jests, and Sir Rogers Lampoons For ever O Fate deliver me.