To the Speaking-Head.
I'm come my future Fate to seek,
Speak then, Cœlestial Block-head speak.
Answer.
Had'st thou not consulted with the Witch at Rome,
Thou need'st not thus, like Saul, to Endor come
To seek out (Brother Solid-head) thy Doom
The Hearts of all thy Friends are lost and gone;
Gazing they stand, and grieving round thy Throne.
And scarce believe thou art the Martyrs Son.
Those, whom thou favourest, merit not thy Grace,
They, to their Interest, Sacrifice thy Peace,
And will in sorrow make thee end thy days.
Tempt not thy Fate too far, do not rely
On force or fraud; Why should'st thou Monarch, why,
Live unbelov'd, and unlamented dye?
