Loyal poems and satyrs upon the times since the beginning of the Salamanca plot written by several hands ; collected by M.T.

THE MEAL TUBB PLOT.

GOod Heraclitus lets have no quarrel, Sing you of the Tap, i'll sing of the Barrel, And neither laugh nor cry for the Lawrel. Which no Body can deny.

A Fig for your Tap or your Cork. Do but bring here A barrel of empty Reports, (Mr. Singer) You shall see we can broach them with a wet Finger. Which no body, &c.

I'll not meddle with Barrels of Ale and Bear, For should they work again, we may fear Too quick a return o'th' Platonick Tear. Which no Body, &c.

A Pox of your Barrels full of French, 'Tis a sort of an ominous Bloody Drench, And full of dispute as an Oyster Wench. Which no Body, &c.

Give me that Miraculous Lasting Joke, O'th Barrel of Meal, that Blinded the Folk, Fill'd every Mans Mouth and yet every Man spoke Which no Body, &c.

It made more noise and was more hot, Than all those Barrels I had forgot, That had their heads in the Gunpowder-Plot, Which no Body, &c.

Some say it was the very same. Where Byter John the first of the Name, Vented such store of Smoak and Flame, Which no Body, &c.

I think indeed they hit the Nail, For's Notes were found within the Meal, Wherewith the Discoverer wip'd his Tayl. Which no Body, &c.

Regulus (but for the spoiling the Leaven) The Barrel full of Spikes had driven, And rowl'd the Rogue downward to Heaven. Which no Bedy can deny.