A collection of 86 loyal poems all of them written upon the two late plots viz, the horrid Salamanca plot in 1687, and the present fanatical conspiracy in 1683 : to which is added, advice to the carver : written on the death of the late L. Stafford : with several poems on their majesties coronation, never before published / collected by N.T.

Advice to His GRACE.

AWake, vain man; 'tis time th' Abuse to see; Awake, and guard thy heedless Loyalty From all the Snares are laid for It and Thee. No longer let that buisie juggling Crew (Who to their own mis deeds entitle You,) Abuse Your Far: Consider, Sir, the State Of our unhappy Isle, disturb'd of late With causeless Jealousies, ungrounded Fear, Obstinate Faction, and Seditious Care; Gone quite distracted for Religion's sake; And nothing their hot brains can cooler make, (So great's the deprivation of their sence,) But the excluding of their lawful Prince: A Prince, in whose each Act is clearly shown, That Heaven design'd him to adorn a Throne; Which (tho' He scorns by Treason to pursue,) He ne'er will quit, if it become His due. Then lay betimes your mad Ambition down; Nor let the dazling Lustre of a Crown Bewitch your Thoughts; but think what mighty care Attends the Crowns that Lawful Princes wear; But when ill Title's added to the Weight, How insupportable's the Load of State! Believe those working Brains Your Name abuse; You only for their Property do use:

And when they'r strong enough to stand alone; You, as an useless Thing, away'l be thrown. Think too, how dear you have already paid, For the fine Projects Your false Friends had laid. When by the Rabbles fruitless Zeal You lost Your Royal Fathers Love, Your growing Fortune cross'd; Say, was Your Bargain, think ye, worth the Cost? Remember what Relation, Sir, you bear To Royal Charles; Subject and Son You are; Two Names that strict Obedience does require; What Frenzy then does your rash Thoughts inspire, Thus by Disloyal Deeds to add more Cares, To them of the bright Burden that he wears? Why with such eager speed hunt You a Crown You're so unfit to wear, were it Your own? With Bows, and Legs, and little Arts, You try, A rude, unthinking Tumults Love to buy: And he who stoops to do so mean a Thing, Shows, He, by Heaven, was ne're design'd for King. Would you be Great? do Things are Great and brave And scorn to be the Mobile's dull Slave: Tell the base Great Ones, and the shouting Throng, You scorn a Crown worn in another's wrong. Prove Your high Birth by Deeds Noble and Good; But strive not to Legitimate your Blood. Ephelia.