The medal of John Bayes a satyr against folly and knavery.

THE MEDAL OF John Bayes: OR, A Satyr upon Folly and Knavery.

HOw long shall I endure, without reply, To hear this * 1.1 Bayes, this Hackney-rayler lie? The fool uncudgell'd, for one Libel swells, Where not his Wit, but Sawciness excels; Whilst with foul Words and Names which he lets flie, He quite defiles the Satyr's Dignity.

For Libel and true Satyr different be; This must have Truth, and Salt, with Modesty. Sparing the Persons, this does tax the Crimes, Gall's not great Men, but Vices of the Times▪ With Witty and Sharp, not blunt and bitter times▪ Methinks the Ghost of Horace there I see, Lashing this Cherry-cheek'd Dunce of Fifty three; Who, at that age, so boldly durst profane, With base hir'd Libel, the free Satyr's Vein. Thou stil'st it Satyr, to call Names, Rogue, Whore, Traytor, and Rebel, and a thousand more. An Oyster-wench is sure thy Muse of late, And all thy Helicon's at Billingsgate. A Libellers vile name then may'st thou gain, And moderately the Writing part maintain, None can so well the beating part sustain. Though with thy Sword, thou art the last of Men, Thou art a damn'd Boroski with thy Pen.

As far from Satyr does thy Talent lye, As from being cheerful, or good company. For thou art * 1.2 Saturnine, thou dost confess; A civil word thy Dulness to express. An old gelt Mastiff has more mirth than thou, When thou a kind of paltry Mirth would'st show. Good humour thou so awkwardly put'st on, It sits like Modish Clothes upon a Clown; While that of Gentlemen is brisk and high, When Wine and Wit about the room does flie. Thou never mak'st, but art a standing Jest; Thy Mirth by foolish Bawdry is exprest; And so debauch'd, so fulsome, and so odd, As— Let's Bugger one another now by G—d. (When ask'd how they should spend the Afternoon) This was the smart * 1.3 reply of the Heroick Clown.

He boasts of Vice (which he did ne'r commit) Calls himself Whoremaster and Sodomite; Commends Reeve's Arse, and says she Buggers well; And silly Lyes of vitious pranks does tell. This is a Sample of his Mirth and Wit, Which he for the best Company thinks fit. In a rich Soyl, the sprightly Horse y'have seen, Run, leap, and wanton o're the flow'ry green, Praunce, and curvet, with pleasure to the sight; But it could never any eyes delight, To see the frisking frolicks of a Cow; And such another merry thing art Thou. In Verse, thou hast a knack, with words to chime, And had'st a kind of Excellence in Rime: With Rimes like leading-strings, thou walk'dst; but▪ those Lay'd by, at every step thou brok'st thy Nose. How low thy Farce! and thy blank Verse how mean! How poor, how naked did appear each Scene!

Even thou didst blush at thy insipid stuff, And laid thy dulness on poor harmless Snuff. No Comick Scene, or humour hast thou wrought; Thou'st quibling Bawdy, and ill breeding taught; But Rime's sad downfal has thy ruine brought. No Piece did ever from thy self begin; Thou can'st no web, from thine own bowels, spin. Were from thy Works cull'd out what thou'st pur∣loin'd, Even D—fey would excel what's left behind. Should all thy borrow'd plumes we from thee tear, How truly * 1.4 Poet Squab would'st thou appear! Thou call'st thy self, and Fools call thee, in Rime, The goodly Prince of Poets, of thy time; And Sov'raign power thou dost usurp, John Bayes, And from all Poets thou a Tax dost raise. Thou plunder'st all, t'advance thy mighty Name, Look'st big, and triumph'st with thy borrow'd fame:

But art (while swelling thus thou think'st th'art Chief) A servile Imitator and a Thief † 1.5. All written Wit thou seizest on as prize; But that will not thy ravenous mind suffice; Though men from thee their inward thoughts conceal, Yet thou the words out of their mouths wilt steal. How little owe we to your Native store, Who all you write have heard or read before? Except your Libels, and there's something new; For none were ere so impudent as you. Some Scoundrel Poetasters yet there be, Fools that Burlesque the name of Loyalty, Who by reviling Patriots, think to be From louziness and hunger ever free: But will (for all their hopes of swelling bags) R••turn to Primitive nastiness and rags. These are blind Fools: thou hadst some kind of sight, Thou sinn'st against thy Conscience and the Light.

After the * 1.6 drubs, thou didst of late compound, And sold for th'weight in Gold each bruise & wound, Clear was thy sight, and none declaim'd then more ▪Gainst Popish Plots, and Arbitrary Power. The Ministers thou bluntly wouldst assail, And it was dangerous to hear thee rail. (Oh may not England stupid be like thee! Heaven grant it may not feel before it see.) Now he recants, and on that beating thrives: Thus Poet Laureats, and Russian Wives, Do strangely upon beating mend their Lives. But how comes Bayes to flag and grovel so? Sure your new Lords are in their payments slow. Thou deserv'st whipping thou'rt so dull, this time, Thou'st turn'd the Observator into Rime. But thou suppliest the want of Wit and Sense, With most malitious Lies, and Impudence.

At Cambridge first your scurrilous Vein began, When sawcily you traduc'd a † 1.7 Nobleman, Who for that Crime rebuk'd you on the head, And you had been Expell'd had you not fled. The next step of Advancement you began, Was being Clerk to Nolls Lord Chamberlain, A Sequestrator and Committee-man. There all your wholesome Morals you suckt in, And got your Gentile Gayety and Meen. Your Loyalty you learn'd in Cromwels Court, Where first your Muse did make her great effort. On him you first shew'd your Poetick strain, * 1.8 And prais'd his opening the Basilick Vein. And were that possible to come agen, Thou on that side wouldst draw thy slavish Pen. But he being dead, who should the slave prefer, He turn'd a Journey-man t'a † 1.9 Bookseller;

Writ Prefaces to Books for Meat and Drink, And as he paid, he would both write and think. Then by th'assistance of a * 1.10 Noble Knight, Th'hadst plenty, ease, and liberty to write. First like a Gentleman he made thee live; And on his Bounty thou didst amply thrive. But soon thy Native swelling Venom rose, And thou didst him, who gave thee Bread, expose. 'Gainst him a scandalous Preface didst thou write, Which thou didst soon expunge, rather than fight. (When turn'd away by him in some small time) You in the Peoples ears began to chime, And please the Town with your successful Rime. When the best Patroness of Wit and Stage, The Joy, the Pride, the wonder of the Age, Sweet Annabel the good, great, witty, fair; (Of all this Northern Court, the brightest Star)

Did on thee, Bayes, her sacred beams dispence, Who could do ill under such influence? She the whole Court brought over to thy side, And favour flow'd upon thee like a Tide. To her thou soon prov'dst an * 1.11 ungrateful Knave; So good was she, not only she forgave, But did oblige anew, the faithless Slave. And all the Gratitude he can afford, Is basely to traduce her Princely Lord. A Heroe worthy of a God-like Race, Great in his Mind, and charming in his Face, Who conquers Hearts, with unaffected Grace. His mighty Vertues are too large for Verse, Gentle as billing Doves, as angry Lions fierce:

His Strength and Beauty so united are, Nature design'd him Chief, in Love and War. All Lovers Victories he did excel, Succeeding with the beautious Annabel. Early in Arms his glorious course began, Which never Heroe yet so swiftly ran. Wherever danger shew'd its dreadful face, By never-dying acts, h'adorn'd his Royal Race. Sure the three Edwards Souls beheld with Joy, How much thou out didst Man, when little more than Boy. And all the Princely Heroes of thy Line, Rejoyc'd to see so much of their great Blood in thine. So good and so diffusive is his Mind, So loving to, and lov'd by Humane kind, He was for vast and general good design'd. In's height of Greatness he all eyes did glad, And never Man departed from him sad.

Sweet and obliging, easie of access, Wise in his Judging, courteous in address. Ore all the Passions he bears so much sway, No Stoick taught 'em better to obey. And, in his Suffering part, he shines more bright, Than he appear'd in all that gaudy light. Now, now, methinks he makes the bravest show, And ne're was greater Heroe than he's now. For publi•• 〈…〉〈…〉 wealth and power forsakes, Over 〈…〉〈…〉 ••••nquest makes. 〈…〉〈…〉 to him are dear; And 〈…〉〈…〉 dares appear. 'Tis 〈…〉〈…〉 in the breach, 'Gainst 〈…〉〈…〉, and furious Parsons preach. Were't not 〈…〉〈…〉, how soon some Popish Knife Might rob us of his Royal Fathers Life! We to their fear of thee that blessing owe▪ In such a Son, happy Great King art thou, Who can defend, or can revenge thee so.

Next, for thy Medal, Bayes, which does revile The wisest Patriot of our drooping Isle, Who Loyally did serve his Exil'd Prince, And with the ablest Councel blest him since; None more than he did stop Tyrannick Power, Or, in that Crisis, did contribute more, To his Just Rights our Monarch to restore; And still by wise advice, and Loyal Arts, Would have secur'd him in his Subjects Hearts. You own the Mischiefs, sprung from that Intrigue, Which fatally dissolv'd the Tripple-League. Each of your Idol mock-Triumv'rate knows, Our Patriot strongly did that Breach oppose. Nor did this Lord a Dover-Journey go, * 1.12 From thence our tears, the Ilium of our woe. Had he that Interest follow'd, how could he By those that serv'd it then discarded be?

The French and Papists well his Merits know; Were he a friend, they'd not pursu'd him so: From both he would our beset King preserve, For which he does Eternal wreaths deserve. His Life they first, and now his Fame would take, For Crimes they forge, and secret Plots they make. They by hir'd Witnesses the first pursue, The latter by vile Scriblers hir'd like you. Thy Infamy will blush at no disgrace, (With such a harden'd Conscience, and a Face) Thou only want'st an Evidences place. When th'Isle was drown'd in a Lethargick sleep, Our vigilant Heroe still a watch did keep. When all our strength should have been made a Prey To the Leud Babylonish Dalilah, Methinks I see our watchful Heroe stand, Jogging the Nodding Genius of our Land;

Which sometime strugling with sleeps heavy yoak, Awak'd, star'd, & look'd grim, and dreafully he spoke. The voice fill'd all the Land, and then did fright The Scarlet Whore from all her works of night. But— With unseen strengths at home, and Forreign Aid, Too soon She ralli'd, and began t'invade, And many Nets she spread, and many Toils she laid. To lull us yet asleep, what pains she takes! But all in vain, for still our Genius wakes. And now remembers well the * 1.13 dangerous Test, Which might have all our Liberty opprest, Had not the cover'd snare our Heroe found, And for some time bravely maintain'd the ground, Till others saw the bondage was design'd, And late with them their stragling Forces joyn'd. A † 1.14 Bill then drawn by B— did we see, A zealous Bill against — for Popery.

Then Murther'd Godfrey, a lov'd Princes blood, Ready with precious drops to make a purple-flood. When Popish Tyranny shall give command, And spread again its darkness o're the Land. Then Bloody Plots we find laid at their door, Than whom none e're have done or suffered more, Or, would to save the Prince they did restore. Amidst these hellish Snares, 'tis time to wake; May never more a sleep our Genius take. These things did soon our glorious City warm, And for their own, and Princes safety arm. The Joy of ours, Terrour of other Lands, With moderate Head, with unpolluted Hands, To which the Prince and People safety owe, From which the uncorrupted streams of Justice flow. Through thickest clouds of Perjury you see, And ne're by Hackney-Oaths deceiv'd will be Resolv'd to value Credibility.

Thou vindicat'st the Justice of thy Prince, Which shines most bright by clearing Innocence. While some would Subjects of their Lives bereave, By Witnesses themselves could ne're believe, Though wrongly accus'd, yet at their Blood they aim, And, as they were their Quarrey, think it shame Not to run down, and seize the trembling Game. Thy Justice will hereafter be renown'd, Thy lasting name for Loyalty be crown'd. When 'twill be told who did our Prince restore, Whom thou with zeal, didst ever since adore. How oft hast thou his Princely wants supply'd? And never was thy needful aid deny'd. How long his Kindness with thy Duty strove! Great thy Obedience, and as great his Love; And curst be they who would his Heart remove. Thou (still the same) with equal zeal wilt serve; Maintain his Laws, his Person wilt preserve.

But some foul Monsters thy rich womb does bear, That, like base Vipers, would thy bowels tear; Who would thy ancient Charters give away, And all thy stronger Liberties betray: Those Elder Customs our great Ancestors Have from the Saxon times convey'd to ours. Of which no Pers'nal Crimes a loss can cause, By Magna Charta backt, and by succeeding Laws. This is the Factious Brood we should pursue: For as in Schism, so in Sedition too, The Many are deserted by the Few. These Factious Few, for bitter scourges fit, (To shew Addressing and Abhorring Wit) Set up a Jack of Lent, and throw at it. But those, alas, false silly measures take, Who of the Few an * 1.15 Association make. Thou need'st not doubt to triumph o're these Fools, These blindly led, these Jesuited Tools;

Whilst bravely thou continu'st to oppose, All would be Papists, as all Romish Foes. In spight of lawless men, and * 1.16 Popish flames, (Inrich'd by thy much lov'd and bounteous Thames) May into thee the Wealth of Nations flow, And to thy height all Europes Cities bow. Thou great support of Princely Dignity! And Bulwark to the Peoples Liberty! If a good Mayor with such good Shrieves appear, Nor Prince, nor People, need a danger fear: And such we hope for each succeeding year. Thus thou a Glorious City may'st remain, And all thy Ancient Liberties retain, While Albion is surrounded with the Main. Go, Abject Bayes! and act thy slavish part; Fawn on those Popish Knaves, whose Knave thou art: 'Tis not ill writing, or worse Policy, That can enslave a Nation, so long free.

Our King's too good to take that rugged course; He'll win by kindness, not subdue by force. If King of Slaves and Beasts, not Men he'd be, A Lyon were a greater Prince than he. Approach him then, let no malitious Chit, No insolent Prater, nor a flashy Wit, Impeachments make not men for States-men sit. But— Truth, Judgment, Firmness, and Integrity, With long experience, quick sagacity, Swift to prevent, as ready to foresee; Knowing the depths from which all action springs, And by a Chain of causes judging things: That does all weights into the ballance cast, And wisely can fore-tell the future, by the past. Where ere such vertuous qualities appear, They're Patriots worthy of a Princes ear, To Him and Subjects they'l alike be dear.

The Kings and Peoples Interest they'll make one. What personal greatness can our Monarch own, When hearts of Subjects must support the Throne! And Ministers should strive those hearts t'unite, Unless they had a mind to make us fight. Who by Addresses thus the Realm divide, (All bonds of Kindred, and of Friends untide) Have in effect, in Battle rang'd each side. But Heaven avert those Plagues which we deserve: Intestine Jarres, but Popish ends can serve. How false, and dangerous Methods do they take, Who would a King but of Addressers make! They from Protection would throw all the rest, And poorly narrow the Kings Interest. To make their little Party too, seem great, They with false Musters, like the Spaniards, cheat. He's King of all, and would have all their Hearts, Were't not for these dividing Popish arts.

Statesmen who his true Interest would improve, Compute his Greatness, by his Peoples Love: That may assist our Friends, and Foes o'recome; So much he will be fear'd Abroad, as lov'd at Home. He at the Peoples Head, may great appear, As th' Edward's, Henry's, and Eliza were. And curst be they who would that Power divide, Who would dissolve that Sacred knot by which they're ty'd. Those Miscreants who hate a Parliament, Would soon destroy our Antient Government. Those Slaves would make us fit to be o'recome, And gladly sell the Land to France, or Rome. But Heaven preserve our Legal Monarchy, And all those Laws that keep the People free. Of all Mankind, for ever curst be they, Who would or Kings, or Peoples Rights betray, Or ought would change, but by a Legislative way.

Be damn'd the most abhorr'd, and Traiterous Race, Who would the best of Governments deface.

Now farewel wretched Mercenary Bayes, Who the King Libell'd, and did Cromwel praise. Farewel, abandon'd Rascal! only fit To be abus'd by thy own scurrilous Wit. Which thou wouldst do, and for a Moderate Sum, Answer thy Medal, and thy Absolont. Thy piteous Hackney-Pen shall never fright us, Thou'rt dwindl'd down to Hodge, and Heraclitus. Go, Ignoramus cry, and Forty One, And by * 1.17 Sams Parsons be thou prais'd alone. Pied thing! half Wit! half Fool! and for a Knave, Few Men, than this, a better mixture have: But thou canst add to that, Coward and Slave.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 1.1

  His Name in the Rehearsal.
• * 1.2

  In his Drammatick Essay.
• * 1.3

  At Windsor, in the company of several persons of Quality, Sir G. E. being present.
• * 1.4

  The Name given him by the Earl of Rochester.
• † 1.5

  Oh imitatores servum pecus!
• * 1.6

  In Rose-Alley.
• † 1.7

  A Lords Son, and all Noblemens Sons, are called Noblemen there.
• * 1.8

  See his Poem upon Oliver.—And wisely he essay'd to stanch the Blood by breathing of a Vein.
• † 1.9

  Mr. Herringman, who kept him in his House for that purpose.
• * 1.10

  Sir R. H. who kept him generously at his own House.
• * 1.11

  When he had thrice broken his Word, Oath, and Bargain with Sir Wi••∣liam Davenant, ••he wrote a Letter to this great Lady to pass her word for him to Sir William, who would not take his own; which she did. In his Letter he wisht God might never prosper him, his Wife or Children, if he did not keep his Oath and Bargain; which yet in two Months he broke, as several of the Dukes Play-house can testifie.
• * 1.12

  Bayes his own expression, Medal, pag. 5.
• * 1.13

  April. 75.
• † 1.14

  Anno 76.
• * 1.15

  Their Addressing is plainly making an Association.
• * 1.16

  See the Chancellors Excellent Speech before the Sentence on the Lord Stafford.
• * 1.17

  A Coffee-house where the Inferiour Crape-gown-men meet with their Guide Roger, to invent Lies for the farther carrying on the Popish-Plot.