The Poetical Entertainer Or, Tales, Satyrs, Dialogues, And Intrigues, &c. Serious and Comical. All digested into such Verse as most agreeable to the several Subjects. To be publish'd as often as occasion shall offer [by Edward Ward] |
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 | The Poetical Entertainer |  |
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Numb. III.
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The English Foreigners:
OR, The Whigs turn'd Dutchmen.
A Satyr.
Wonder no more, that a voracious Breed
Of monstous Brutes, should on the weaker feed
Blame not the hungry Wolf, who sucks the Blood
Of harmless Sheep, and helpless Lambs, for Food:
Nor think it strange that mighty Whales should prey
Upon the finny Race, less strong than they:
Or that the soaring Eagle should devour
Those Birds unable to resist her Pow'r,
Since the vile Wretch, so proud of being Man,
Who glories in the style of Christian,
Does, in the Name of God, his Malice vent,
And preys upon the Weak and Innocent;
Breaks thro' all Fences moral and divine,
To grasp that bane of humane Comfort, Coin;
Rebells against the Throne he should obey,
Does Publick Good, for Private Ends, betray;
Treads on the Necks of others, that his Pride
May be with boundless Pow'r and Wealth supply'd;
Adapts his Faith to his nefarious Heart,
Turns all Religion into Craft and Art,
And tow'rds his Native Country acts a Traytor's Part.
Of monstous Brutes, should on the weaker feed
Blame not the hungry Wolf, who sucks the Blood
Of harmless Sheep, and helpless Lambs, for Food:
Nor think it strange that mighty Whales should prey
Upon the finny Race, less strong than they:
Or that the soaring Eagle should devour
Those Birds unable to resist her Pow'r,
Since the vile Wretch, so proud of being Man,
Who glories in the style of Christian,
4
And preys upon the Weak and Innocent;
Breaks thro' all Fences moral and divine,
To grasp that bane of humane Comfort, Coin;
Rebells against the Throne he should obey,
Does Publick Good, for Private Ends, betray;
Treads on the Necks of others, that his Pride
May be with boundless Pow'r and Wealth supply'd;
Adapts his Faith to his nefarious Heart,
Turns all Religion into Craft and Art,
And tow'rds his Native Country acts a Traytor's Part.
Long has the Serpent lurk'd within the Saint,
Who uses Grace as Harlots do their Paint,
Wears it, as ornamental, in his Face,
When all his Inside is corrupt and base;
That those who gaze, with injudicious Eyes,
Upon the sacred Villain in disguise,
May take the Knave, in Musquerade, to be
A Saint, by his external Sanctity;
When all his Aim is to deceive the Crowd,
And make his impious Actions pass for good.
So cunning Bawds much Piety profess,
And cloak their Vices with a rev'rend Dress,
That they among the vertuous may intrude,
And, for their Int'rest, tempt 'em to be lewd.
Who uses Grace as Harlots do their Paint,
Wears it, as ornamental, in his Face,
When all his Inside is corrupt and base;
That those who gaze, with injudicious Eyes,
Upon the sacred Villain in disguise,
May take the Knave, in Musquerade, to be
A Saint, by his external Sanctity;
5
And make his impious Actions pass for good.
So cunning Bawds much Piety profess,
And cloak their Vices with a rev'rend Dress,
That they among the vertuous may intrude,
And, for their Int'rest, tempt 'em to be lewd.
Where are those ancient Holy Precepts fled,
By which the Christian must be happy made?
Those sacred Truths by God to Man reveal'd,
And with his precious Blood, that taught 'em, seal'd?
They guide us to obey the great Supream,
Who sways the Regal Scepter under Him,
And recommend Love, Unity, and Peace,
As the true Grounds of humane Happiness.
How then can they who thwart the Sov'reign Pow'r
To propagate a Sanguinary War,
(After such vast immensity of Blood
And Treasure have been lavishly bestow'd
To gain a happy Peace) deserve the name
Of Christian, who declare against the same;
And when the jarring Crowns the Breach would heal,
Thirst for more Blood, and cry, Fight on and Kill?
For say our English-Dutchmen, 'tis a Crime
To treat of Peace till Holland thinks 'tis time.
Holland, who, when unable to defend
Herself, had Britain for her trusty Friend,
And to Eliza. ow'd that happy state
Which bounteous Anna has preserv'd of late;
And at a vast expence of English Blood,
As well as Treasure, generously stood
'Twixt them and Danger, we too plainly see,
To th'hazard of her own Security;
And longer than was needful to obtain
A glorious lasting Peace with France and Spain;
To please a Race who only want the Pow'r
To govern basely, plunder and devour,
And, by their own destructive Laws, command
The Pockets of a poor misguided Land,
Till to themselves they do the whole secure,
Beneath the Umbrage of a needless War.
As Thieves pick open Quarrels, and defy
Each other, to beguile the Standers-by.
By which the Christian must be happy made?
Those sacred Truths by God to Man reveal'd,
And with his precious Blood, that taught 'em, seal'd?
They guide us to obey the great Supream,
Who sways the Regal Scepter under Him,
And recommend Love, Unity, and Peace,
As the true Grounds of humane Happiness.
How then can they who thwart the Sov'reign Pow'r
To propagate a Sanguinary War,
(After such vast immensity of Blood
And Treasure have been lavishly bestow'd
To gain a happy Peace) deserve the name
Of Christian, who declare against the same;
6
Thirst for more Blood, and cry, Fight on and Kill?
For say our English-Dutchmen, 'tis a Crime
To treat of Peace till Holland thinks 'tis time.
Holland, who, when unable to defend
Herself, had Britain for her trusty Friend,
And to Eliza. ow'd that happy state
Which bounteous Anna has preserv'd of late;
And at a vast expence of English Blood,
As well as Treasure, generously stood
'Twixt them and Danger, we too plainly see,
To th'hazard of her own Security;
And longer than was needful to obtain
A glorious lasting Peace with France and Spain;
To please a Race who only want the Pow'r
To govern basely, plunder and devour,
And, by their own destructive Laws, command
The Pockets of a poor misguided Land,
Till to themselves they do the whole secure,
Beneath the Umbrage of a needless War.
7
Each other, to beguile the Standers-by.
O fair Britannia! whither art thou run?
What Changes hast thou made? What Evils done?
That thy own Sons should thy Destruction seek,
And take a pride in making Thee more weak.
What Monsters hast thou suckl'd at thy Breast?
What upstart Traytors cherish'd and caress'd?
Who, when the God of War would sheath his Sword,
That banish'd Peace might timely be restor'd,
Oppose the Blessing, which they ought to court,
And pelt the Goddess with their sland'rous Dirt,
Attack thy Throne with saucy Foreign Scrolls,
By a Dutch Faction, styl'd Memorials.
Concerted first by a Domestick Race
Of Whigs and Atheists, treacherously base,
Then wafted over to that pious Land
Where Money does their Hearts and Hands command,
And where our factious Statesmen fain would pawn
Our English Welfare, to secure their own.
Thence were the Libels, when the Dunks had sign'd
The same, remitted with the next fair Wind,
That our disgusted Saints might shew their spleen,
And teaze our only Happiness, the Queen.
Nor had they sooner to her Hand convey'd
The base Reflections they had falsly made,
Than all their Party-Scriblers were imploy'd,
And envious Tongues, to bruit the same abroad,
With such Encomiums on our Dutch Allies,
As trusty Friends, so over just and wise,
That Britain ought intirely to rely
On Holland, for her own Prosperity;
And should from them (not they from us) derive
Such Terms of Peace as they (not we) might thrive.
Which shews what Love our whiggish Faction bear
To their own native Land, when they prefer
A Foreign Int'rest to their Country's Good:
And, rather than preserve her Wealth and Blood,
Would lavish both, that their unbounded Pride,
And gnawing Malice, might be satisfy'd,
In pulling down their Rulers, that the Knaves
Might all be Kings, and honest Men their Slaves.
Then Blockheads should Most Reverend commence,
Stern Villains Justice to the Crowd dispense,
And none be hang'd for Rogues, but Men of Worth and Sence.
What Changes hast thou made? What Evils done?
That thy own Sons should thy Destruction seek,
And take a pride in making Thee more weak.
What Monsters hast thou suckl'd at thy Breast?
What upstart Traytors cherish'd and caress'd?
Who, when the God of War would sheath his Sword,
That banish'd Peace might timely be restor'd,
Oppose the Blessing, which they ought to court,
And pelt the Goddess with their sland'rous Dirt,
Attack thy Throne with saucy Foreign Scrolls,
By a Dutch Faction, styl'd Memorials.
Concerted first by a Domestick Race
Of Whigs and Atheists, treacherously base,
Then wafted over to that pious Land
Where Money does their Hearts and Hands command,
And where our factious Statesmen fain would pawn
Our English Welfare, to secure their own.
8
The same, remitted with the next fair Wind,
That our disgusted Saints might shew their spleen,
And teaze our only Happiness, the Queen.
Nor had they sooner to her Hand convey'd
The base Reflections they had falsly made,
Than all their Party-Scriblers were imploy'd,
And envious Tongues, to bruit the same abroad,
With such Encomiums on our Dutch Allies,
As trusty Friends, so over just and wise,
That Britain ought intirely to rely
On Holland, for her own Prosperity;
And should from them (not they from us) derive
Such Terms of Peace as they (not we) might thrive.
Which shews what Love our whiggish Faction bear
To their own native Land, when they prefer
A Foreign Int'rest to their Country's Good:
And, rather than preserve her Wealth and Blood,
Would lavish both, that their unbounded Pride,
And gnawing Malice, might be satisfy'd,
9
Might all be Kings, and honest Men their Slaves.
Then Blockheads should Most Reverend commence,
Stern Villains Justice to the Crowd dispense,
And none be hang'd for Rogues, but Men of Worth and Sence.
Such are the good Designs the Whiggish Clan
Have long been lab'ring to compleat in vain;
Those Patriots who so earnestly contend
For Holland, and oppose the glorious End
Our Royal Nursing-Mother has in view,
For Her own Kingdoms and Her Allies too:
Therefore since She has timely taken care,
That Britain shall enjoy an ample Share
Of the last Fruits we must expect to glean,
Now Europe calls her bloody Harvest in,
Must we, like thankless Rebels, cry, the Dutch
Have got too little, and ourselves too much?
Must we, like Traytors, snarl at the encrease
Of our long injur'd Country's Happiness,
And think our only Rivals merit more
Than us, the spendthrift Bubbles of the War?
Must we from Anna and our Duty swerve,
Because sh'as done much more than we deserve,
And blame her for establishing in us
That Trade which Holland wanted to ingross?
Is this your Justice to the gen'rous Hand
That gives you Peace, and to your native Land?
Would you betray your Country to the States,
Ye treach'rous Vermin, worse than Dogs or Cats,
And satiate your Revenge against the Throne,
By slighting what the Queen has made our own,
And cav'ling at the Articles of Peace
'Cause Holland has no more, and we no less?
Shame on such Weeds, ingrateful to the Soil
That nurs'd you up to be so rank and vile,
Till your proud Heads forget your native Earth,
And scorn the fruitful Ground that gave you Birth.
So disobedient Children bred awry,
When vex'd, will in their Parents Faces fly.
And with ingrateful impudence requite
The tender Care that rais'd 'em to their height.
Have long been lab'ring to compleat in vain;
Those Patriots who so earnestly contend
For Holland, and oppose the glorious End
Our Royal Nursing-Mother has in view,
For Her own Kingdoms and Her Allies too:
Therefore since She has timely taken care,
That Britain shall enjoy an ample Share
Of the last Fruits we must expect to glean,
Now Europe calls her bloody Harvest in,
Must we, like thankless Rebels, cry, the Dutch
Have got too little, and ourselves too much?
Must we, like Traytors, snarl at the encrease
Of our long injur'd Country's Happiness,
10
Than us, the spendthrift Bubbles of the War?
Must we from Anna and our Duty swerve,
Because sh'as done much more than we deserve,
And blame her for establishing in us
That Trade which Holland wanted to ingross?
Is this your Justice to the gen'rous Hand
That gives you Peace, and to your native Land?
Would you betray your Country to the States,
Ye treach'rous Vermin, worse than Dogs or Cats,
And satiate your Revenge against the Throne,
By slighting what the Queen has made our own,
And cav'ling at the Articles of Peace
'Cause Holland has no more, and we no less?
Shame on such Weeds, ingrateful to the Soil
That nurs'd you up to be so rank and vile,
Till your proud Heads forget your native Earth,
And scorn the fruitful Ground that gave you Birth.
So disobedient Children bred awry,
When vex'd, will in their Parents Faces fly.
11
The tender Care that rais'd 'em to their height.
Have we in War spent Twenty Years and more,
To make all Europe, but ourselves, secure,
Succour'd Imperial Charles in his Distress,
And labour'd to promote his Happiness,
Deny'd ourselves that Trade which our Ally,
The Dutch, took care to manage by the Bye,
Subdu'd so many Towns at the expence
Of English Blood, to strengthen their Defence;
And must the Troops, pertaining to the Crown
Of Britain, be refus'd to pass through one?
And, to the great dishonour of our Queen,
Be stop'd by M********'s trusty Friend E******e,
Who, as a Spy, came over to cabal
With Faction, and their darling G---l,
That they the better might consult of Means
To undermine good Anna's bless'd Designs,
Knowing a Peace would strip off the Disguise,
Long worn by our Domestick Enemies,
And make our false seditious Friends appear
More ravenous than Tyger, Wolf, or Bear.
Nor could the G---n H---o, and His G---c,
With all the Junto, find a safer place
To meet in, than a Pile which long has stood
A s---d P---e, facing T---n R---d,
Where dwells a grave P---s---n, who can heal
The wounded Soul or Body, when it's ill;
But owes his present Station, some agree,
More to his Physick than Divinity;
And by a Dose most seas'nably apply'd,
Remov'd one great obstruction of his Pride.
So have I seen, at Billiards, in my days
Of Youth, the hindmost Ball, that gives the Chase,
Send 'tother to the Hole, and take it's Place.
To make all Europe, but ourselves, secure,
Succour'd Imperial Charles in his Distress,
And labour'd to promote his Happiness,
Deny'd ourselves that Trade which our Ally,
The Dutch, took care to manage by the Bye,
Subdu'd so many Towns at the expence
Of English Blood, to strengthen their Defence;
And must the Troops, pertaining to the Crown
Of Britain, be refus'd to pass through one?
And, to the great dishonour of our Queen,
Be stop'd by M********'s trusty Friend E******e,
Who, as a Spy, came over to cabal
With Faction, and their darling G---l,
That they the better might consult of Means
To undermine good Anna's bless'd Designs,
Knowing a Peace would strip off the Disguise,
Long worn by our Domestick Enemies,
12
More ravenous than Tyger, Wolf, or Bear.
Nor could the G---n H---o, and His G---c,
With all the Junto, find a safer place
To meet in, than a Pile which long has stood
A s---d P---e, facing T---n R---d,
Where dwells a grave P---s---n, who can heal
The wounded Soul or Body, when it's ill;
But owes his present Station, some agree,
More to his Physick than Divinity;
And by a Dose most seas'nably apply'd,
Remov'd one great obstruction of his Pride.
So have I seen, at Billiards, in my days
Of Youth, the hindmost Ball, that gives the Chase,
Send 'tother to the Hole, and take it's Place.
Within this ancient Palace of Renown,
Much honour'd and much envy'd by the Gown,
The swarthy fighting Prince, not long before
He left, for Foreign Fields, the British Shore,
With his disgusted Falling Friend, confer'd
In private, whilst the wise Domestick Lord,
Commanded that his Gates should close be shut,
And none permitted to go in or out,
Besides some certain Whiggish L****s, whose Brains
Were useful in the weighty Conference.
Thus all was hush, till they had hatch'd some grand
Design, to ruffle the Affairs in hand,
And crav'd a formal Blessing on the Scheme,
Projected to confront the Diadem,
By undermining Peace, prolonging War,
And pulling down their Foe the T---r,
Thus were those dark Intrigues at present found
So troublesome, first hatch'd on holy Ground,
And all those Evils consecrated here,
Which now abroad so mischievous appear.
'Tis strange the highest Order of the Gown,
Fed by the Church, and honour'd by the Crown,
Should side with open Enemies to both,
Who ridicule their Faith and hate their Cloth.
But many deviate from the Names they bear,
And Wolves too oft do Shepherds cloathing wear.
Much honour'd and much envy'd by the Gown,
The swarthy fighting Prince, not long before
He left, for Foreign Fields, the British Shore,
13
In private, whilst the wise Domestick Lord,
Commanded that his Gates should close be shut,
And none permitted to go in or out,
Besides some certain Whiggish L****s, whose Brains
Were useful in the weighty Conference.
Thus all was hush, till they had hatch'd some grand
Design, to ruffle the Affairs in hand,
And crav'd a formal Blessing on the Scheme,
Projected to confront the Diadem,
By undermining Peace, prolonging War,
And pulling down their Foe the T---r,
Thus were those dark Intrigues at present found
So troublesome, first hatch'd on holy Ground,
And all those Evils consecrated here,
Which now abroad so mischievous appear.
'Tis strange the highest Order of the Gown,
Fed by the Church, and honour'd by the Crown,
Should side with open Enemies to both,
Who ridicule their Faith and hate their Cloth.
14
And Wolves too oft do Shepherds cloathing wear.
Well may we wonder Britain should contain
Such Herds of Monsters in the Shape of Men,
Who glut their Malice with their Country's Blood,
And make their Markets of the Publick Good.
But the discerning Eye may eas'ly see
The cause of all their present Villany,
And why they now oppose the Peace in hand,
For War, destructive to their native Land.
Such Herds of Monsters in the Shape of Men,
Who glut their Malice with their Country's Blood,
And make their Markets of the Publick Good.
But the discerning Eye may eas'ly see
The cause of all their present Villany,
And why they now oppose the Peace in hand,
For War, destructive to their native Land.
Look round the bleeding Nation and behold
What treach'rous Upstarts triumph in our Gold,
Who, since the Revolution, till of late,
Brow-beat the Church, misteer'd the Helm of State,
Abus'd all Offices of Pow'r and Trust,
And made the wicked'st Actions pass for just:
At Home oppress'd us, bubbl'd us Abroad,
Grew Pow'rful by Trick, and Rich by Fraud;
Incroach'd upon the Throne by daring Means,
And trait'rously misus'd the best of Queens;
Bore down the Constitution, Branch by Branch,
And did us much more mischief than the French,
Still taking care, by some new Act or Clause,
To muzzle Justice and restrain the Laws;
Chusing much rather tacitly to own
Their Guilt in safety, than to boldly run
The Risque of that due scandalous Reward,
They knew they had notoriously deserv'd.
So Roman Harlots, to their Priests, confess
Their gainful lushious Sins and Wantoness,
That when absolv'd they may renew their Lust,
And gratify afresh their vitious Gust.
What treach'rous Upstarts triumph in our Gold,
Who, since the Revolution, till of late,
Brow-beat the Church, misteer'd the Helm of State,
Abus'd all Offices of Pow'r and Trust,
And made the wicked'st Actions pass for just:
At Home oppress'd us, bubbl'd us Abroad,
Grew Pow'rful by Trick, and Rich by Fraud;
Incroach'd upon the Throne by daring Means,
And trait'rously misus'd the best of Queens;
15
And did us much more mischief than the French,
Still taking care, by some new Act or Clause,
To muzzle Justice and restrain the Laws;
Chusing much rather tacitly to own
Their Guilt in safety, than to boldly run
The Risque of that due scandalous Reward,
They knew they had notoriously deserv'd.
So Roman Harlots, to their Priests, confess
Their gainful lushious Sins and Wantoness,
That when absolv'd they may renew their Lust,
And gratify afresh their vitious Gust.
Our vacant Pulpits they took care to fill
With Guides of a Dissenting Principle,
And rais'd up Holy Fathers, who were known
To be born Enemies to Church and Throne,
Whose Doctrines tended to the bane of both,
And were themselves destructive to their Cloth.
Well might the Flock be mis'rably betray'd,
When Wolves and Foxes were our Shepherds made;
Whilst our true Pastors Hands and Tongues were ty'd,
And by revolving Dunces villify'd.
With Guides of a Dissenting Principle,
And rais'd up Holy Fathers, who were known
To be born Enemies to Church and Throne,
Whose Doctrines tended to the bane of both,
And were themselves destructive to their Cloth.
Well might the Flock be mis'rably betray'd,
When Wolves and Foxes were our Shepherds made;
16
And by revolving Dunces villify'd.
The Millions rais'd to expedite the War,
Were still but made Preparatives for more,
And only serv'd to let the Nation see
What the next Year's oppressive Tax must be,
To purchase Towns for Holland, that, at length,
We might repent our Weakness and their Strength
Whilst all that to the Share of Britain falls,
Are ragged Trophies, to adorn our Halls,
And those so dearly bought, that a few more,
At the same Price, would make us weak and poor.
Nor were these all the Blessings we enjoy'd,
Whilst none but Whigs were in the State imploy'd,
For the vast Sums long levy'd to uphold
The War, were by such Birdlime-Fingers told,
That mighty Heaps, as will e'relong appear,
Were by the Stewards sunk, from Year to Year,
As their dear trusty Friends, the Dutch, can tell,
And as the Bank of Venice knows full well;
Yet kept the Crown as bare, as if the Queen
Had been their Subject, they Her Sovereign.
All which imperious Usage of the Throne,
When they had made the Sword and Purse their own,
And such Collusions, that no injur'd Land,
But Britain, e'er so patiently sustain'd,
Their Penetration craftily foresaw
No longer could escape the Fangs of Law,
Than whilst their Party could maintain the Pow'r
And, by a War, their Villanies obscure.
A War, by which they rais'd the frothy Scum
Of Britain to boil over us at Home,
Whilst their great Warrior, by his Truncheon, aw'd
Our distant Troops, and bubbl'd us abroad.
A War, which thin'd the Nation of her best
And bravest Youth, and beggar'd half the rest;
And when the Taxes and the Sword had brought
Thousands of prosp'rous Families to nought,
A Swarm of Vagrants, scandalously poor,
Lousy and Lazy were invited o'er,
To teach us how to mortify our Guts,
And live, like ruin'd Slaves on Herbs and Roots.
A War, that set a D---s o'er a Q---n,
And rais'd a D---e above his Sovereign
Lifted Dissenters higher than the Church,
And turn'd our wholesome Laws to Rods of Birch.
A War, that, if continu'd, will advance
A Commonwealth, instead of low'ring France,
And make us humble Irreligious Slaves,
To Atheistick Fools and Whiggish Knaves;
For should we still support a Foreign Host,
And the Low-Church regain the Pow'r they've lost
No Hanover Succession shall have place,
Dominion must be founded then in Grace,
And grateful Ch---l, and his pious Wife,
Be made our Genralissimo's for Life.
Were still but made Preparatives for more,
And only serv'd to let the Nation see
What the next Year's oppressive Tax must be,
To purchase Towns for Holland, that, at length,
We might repent our Weakness and their Strength
Whilst all that to the Share of Britain falls,
Are ragged Trophies, to adorn our Halls,
And those so dearly bought, that a few more,
At the same Price, would make us weak and poor.
Nor were these all the Blessings we enjoy'd,
Whilst none but Whigs were in the State imploy'd,
For the vast Sums long levy'd to uphold
The War, were by such Birdlime-Fingers told,
That mighty Heaps, as will e'relong appear,
Were by the Stewards sunk, from Year to Year,
As their dear trusty Friends, the Dutch, can tell,
And as the Bank of Venice knows full well;
17
Had been their Subject, they Her Sovereign.
All which imperious Usage of the Throne,
When they had made the Sword and Purse their own,
And such Collusions, that no injur'd Land,
But Britain, e'er so patiently sustain'd,
Their Penetration craftily foresaw
No longer could escape the Fangs of Law,
Than whilst their Party could maintain the Pow'r
And, by a War, their Villanies obscure.
A War, by which they rais'd the frothy Scum
Of Britain to boil over us at Home,
Whilst their great Warrior, by his Truncheon, aw'd
Our distant Troops, and bubbl'd us abroad.
A War, which thin'd the Nation of her best
And bravest Youth, and beggar'd half the rest;
And when the Taxes and the Sword had brought
Thousands of prosp'rous Families to nought,
A Swarm of Vagrants, scandalously poor,
Lousy and Lazy were invited o'er,
18
And live, like ruin'd Slaves on Herbs and Roots.
A War, that set a D---s o'er a Q---n,
And rais'd a D---e above his Sovereign
Lifted Dissenters higher than the Church,
And turn'd our wholesome Laws to Rods of Birch.
A War, that, if continu'd, will advance
A Commonwealth, instead of low'ring France,
And make us humble Irreligious Slaves,
To Atheistick Fools and Whiggish Knaves;
For should we still support a Foreign Host,
And the Low-Church regain the Pow'r they've lost
No Hanover Succession shall have place,
Dominion must be founded then in Grace,
And grateful Ch---l, and his pious Wife,
Be made our Genralissimo's for Life.
'Tis for these Reasons our Domestick Foes
Cry out for War, and timely Peace oppose.
A Peace so Equal, Glorious and Just,
For all that do in Anna's Conduct trust,
That none can cavil at its Terms, but such
As want to sell old England to the Dutch.
A Peace, wherein we shall be happy made,
In all the Branches of our Foreign Trade,
And, by whose Means we surely shall become
Pow'rful Abroad and Wealthy soon at Home.
A Peace, that will unriddle all the base
Designs and Myst'ries of the Whiggish Race,
And make those impious Managers appear
Black as the gloomy Shades tow'rds which they steer.
A Peace, that will our Home-Divisions heal,
And cure at once those smarting Wounds we feel,
Make us Unanimous, our Sov'reign Great,
And deal forth Blessings to the meanest State.
What thanks must Anna then from Europe claim,
Whose Godlike Wisdom has obtain'd the same?
What Pray'rs from Britain, rescu'd by her Care,
From all the Mis'ries of a crafty War?
Wherein Her int'rest had been long betray'd
By those Her Arms too prosperous had made,
Not for the Nation, or their gen'rous Queen,
But for themselves, the most unjust of Men,
To that good Princess, who had nurs'd the Snakes
Till she, in time, repented her Mistakes;
And as she caught them nibling at her Crown,
In Anger, cast the treach'rous Serpents down,
So far'd the frozen Vermin, when he bit
The Gen'rous Hand that warm'd and cherish'd it.
Cry out for War, and timely Peace oppose.
A Peace so Equal, Glorious and Just,
For all that do in Anna's Conduct trust,
19
As want to sell old England to the Dutch.
A Peace, wherein we shall be happy made,
In all the Branches of our Foreign Trade,
And, by whose Means we surely shall become
Pow'rful Abroad and Wealthy soon at Home.
A Peace, that will unriddle all the base
Designs and Myst'ries of the Whiggish Race,
And make those impious Managers appear
Black as the gloomy Shades tow'rds which they steer.
A Peace, that will our Home-Divisions heal,
And cure at once those smarting Wounds we feel,
Make us Unanimous, our Sov'reign Great,
And deal forth Blessings to the meanest State.
What thanks must Anna then from Europe claim,
Whose Godlike Wisdom has obtain'd the same?
What Pray'rs from Britain, rescu'd by her Care,
From all the Mis'ries of a crafty War?
Wherein Her int'rest had been long betray'd
By those Her Arms too prosperous had made,
20
But for themselves, the most unjust of Men,
To that good Princess, who had nurs'd the Snakes
Till she, in time, repented her Mistakes;
And as she caught them nibling at her Crown,
In Anger, cast the treach'rous Serpents down,
So far'd the frozen Vermin, when he bit
The Gen'rous Hand that warm'd and cherish'd it.
What can our Tongues express or Pens proclaim
In honour of the Great Immortal Dame,
To whom, beneath the King of Kings, we owe
All we enjoy, and more than yet we know;
The least a grateful Land can do or say,
Is to be humbly thankful, and obey,
And by unfeign'd Submission to her wise
Provision for Her Subjects and Allies,
Let the kind Princess, to her comfort see
Our Love, our Gratitude, and Loyalty,
That all Her miscreant Enemies at Home
May seek her Mercy to prevent their Doom.
And own their Guilt, thro' Penitence, or Fear
Of Justice, and no longer persevere;
And those Abroad, who at the present join
Her Foes Domestick in their base Design,
Admire the Conduct of the Royal Dame,
And tremble when they hear Great Anna's Name.
In honour of the Great Immortal Dame,
To whom, beneath the King of Kings, we owe
All we enjoy, and more than yet we know;
The least a grateful Land can do or say,
Is to be humbly thankful, and obey,
And by unfeign'd Submission to her wise
Provision for Her Subjects and Allies,
Let the kind Princess, to her comfort see
Our Love, our Gratitude, and Loyalty,
That all Her miscreant Enemies at Home
May seek her Mercy to prevent their Doom.
21
Of Justice, and no longer persevere;
And those Abroad, who at the present join
Her Foes Domestick in their base Design,
Admire the Conduct of the Royal Dame,
And tremble when they hear Great Anna's Name.
Next to the best of Queens we must adore
The Wisdom of her chosen Minister,
Who, with such Caution, sheaths the British Sword,
That downy Peace may timely be restor'd:
None e'er was better qualify'd to raise
A Sinking Nation, lab'ring in Distress,
Whose painful Bowels have so long been knaw'd
By Vipers, worse than all her Foes Abroad:
No Mortal can with more exactness tread
The Paths mysterious Provicence has laid:
His wonderful Successes plainly shew
He knows the Lab'rinth, and has gain'd the Clue.
What Mazes has he trod, what Hazards run,
What Threats endur'd, what Good for Britain done!
And in the worst of Times made all secure,
When Faction had ingross'd the Sovreign Pow'r;
And when most Patriots of Success dispair'd,
The Work appear'd so doubtful and so hard.
What Honour, therefore, and what Praise is due
To him alone, that durst the Task pursue!
And would not be deter'd, but forward prest,
Tho' cow'rdly Stabs were offer'd at his Breast,
And groundless Calumnies diffus'd Abroad,
To poyson and inflame the wav'ring Croud,
That all his great Efforts might be withstood,
And dawning Peace be drown'd in Seas of Blood:
Yet no vile Artifice could stop his Way,
Or give his just Designs the least delay;
No envious Shocks obstruct the End desir'd,
His Soul was for the Work so well inspir'd.
Go on, great Man, thou Wonder of the Age,
Whose Rise does Britain's Happiness presage,
Proceed and prosper, guarded by the Throne,
And finish what so nobly thou'st begun.
Give England Peace, beneath bless'd Anna's Care,
And put a Glorious Period to the War;
Confirm the gainful Project thou hast laid,
And to the Southern Bounds extend our Trade,
That the good End of all, for which we wait,
May shew Thee what Thou art, that's truly Great;
And make Thy blushing Enemies confess,
In spite of Malice, that Thou art no less.
Then shall the British Kingdoms gladly own,
As well as now, the Wonders thou hast done.
Next to good Anna's Deeds thy Worth proclaim,
And raise Thee lasting Monuments of Fame;
For now Britannia sees she soon must rue
Her Essex, had she not a Cecil too.
The Wisdom of her chosen Minister,
Who, with such Caution, sheaths the British Sword,
That downy Peace may timely be restor'd:
None e'er was better qualify'd to raise
A Sinking Nation, lab'ring in Distress,
Whose painful Bowels have so long been knaw'd
By Vipers, worse than all her Foes Abroad:
No Mortal can with more exactness tread
The Paths mysterious Provicence has laid:
His wonderful Successes plainly shew
He knows the Lab'rinth, and has gain'd the Clue.
What Mazes has he trod, what Hazards run,
What Threats endur'd, what Good for Britain done!
22
When Faction had ingross'd the Sovreign Pow'r;
And when most Patriots of Success dispair'd,
The Work appear'd so doubtful and so hard.
What Honour, therefore, and what Praise is due
To him alone, that durst the Task pursue!
And would not be deter'd, but forward prest,
Tho' cow'rdly Stabs were offer'd at his Breast,
And groundless Calumnies diffus'd Abroad,
To poyson and inflame the wav'ring Croud,
That all his great Efforts might be withstood,
And dawning Peace be drown'd in Seas of Blood:
Yet no vile Artifice could stop his Way,
Or give his just Designs the least delay;
No envious Shocks obstruct the End desir'd,
His Soul was for the Work so well inspir'd.
Go on, great Man, thou Wonder of the Age,
Whose Rise does Britain's Happiness presage,
Proceed and prosper, guarded by the Throne,
And finish what so nobly thou'st begun.
23
And put a Glorious Period to the War;
Confirm the gainful Project thou hast laid,
And to the Southern Bounds extend our Trade,
That the good End of all, for which we wait,
May shew Thee what Thou art, that's truly Great;
And make Thy blushing Enemies confess,
In spite of Malice, that Thou art no less.
Then shall the British Kingdoms gladly own,
As well as now, the Wonders thou hast done.
Next to good Anna's Deeds thy Worth proclaim,
And raise Thee lasting Monuments of Fame;
For now Britannia sees she soon must rue
Her Essex, had she not a Cecil too.
24
A short Reprimand to a Prodigal Heir.
Why, my old Friend, are you so proud,
As soon as bless'd with an Estate,
They laugh, to whom you oft have bow'd,
To see your Neck so stiff of late.
As soon as bless'd with an Estate,
They laugh, to whom you oft have bow'd,
To see your Neck so stiff of late.
What tho' your Father had the care
To wealthy grow, by wretched means,
You're but the Asse that's doom'd to bear
The golden Burthen of his Sins.
To wealthy grow, by wretched means,
You're but the Asse that's doom'd to bear
The golden Burthen of his Sins.
Then prithee be not over-run
With Pride, it only makes your Foes
Remember, Happy is the Son
Whose Father to the Devil goes.
With Pride, it only makes your Foes
Remember, Happy is the Son
Whose Father to the Devil goes.
25
Upon the Prospct of Peace.
By J. K. Esq;
Hail Pious Queen! from thy auspicious Reign
Your Britain hopes for halcyon Days again,
Depress'd by Wars, and a long Chain of Woes,
Her Treasure wasted by insulting Foes,
She now looks up tow'rds Anna, in distress,
And in her Conduct hopes for Happiness,
Rears up her drooping Head, and smiles to see
So near a Prospect of Felicity;
Which sudden unexpected pleasing view,
She owes alone, Great Queen, to Heav'n and You,
Who have, at once, a glorious Peace restor'd,
And into Ploughshears turn'd the useless Sword,
Whilst Faction grins to see her Brood outdone,
And blinking throws her Envy at the Throne,
Unable to behold the dazling Scene,
So wisely manag'd by so bright a Queen,
Whose Predecessors lop'd the Hydra's Head,
But She alone hath struck the Monster dead,
Rescu'd her Kingdoms at one Blow, and aw'd
Her Enemies at home, and those abroad,
And by her just Resentments lets 'em see
The danger of provoking Majesty.
So kind forgiving Jove in Mercy bears
With Sinners, hoping for repenting Tears;
But when we glory in our impious Deeds,
He thunders Vengeance on our daring Heads.
Your Britain hopes for halcyon Days again,
Depress'd by Wars, and a long Chain of Woes,
Her Treasure wasted by insulting Foes,
She now looks up tow'rds Anna, in distress,
And in her Conduct hopes for Happiness,
Rears up her drooping Head, and smiles to see
So near a Prospect of Felicity;
Which sudden unexpected pleasing view,
She owes alone, Great Queen, to Heav'n and You,
Who have, at once, a glorious Peace restor'd,
And into Ploughshears turn'd the useless Sword,
Whilst Faction grins to see her Brood outdone,
And blinking throws her Envy at the Throne,
Unable to behold the dazling Scene,
So wisely manag'd by so bright a Queen,
26
But She alone hath struck the Monster dead,
Rescu'd her Kingdoms at one Blow, and aw'd
Her Enemies at home, and those abroad,
And by her just Resentments lets 'em see
The danger of provoking Majesty.
So kind forgiving Jove in Mercy bears
With Sinners, hoping for repenting Tears;
But when we glory in our impious Deeds,
He thunders Vengeance on our daring Heads.
No more shall foreign Fields drink British Blood,
Or Armies prey upon their Country's good.
No more shall fatal War draw Widows Tears,
Or youthful Thousands drop at half their Years.
No more shall Sons be from their Parents torn,
Or loving Wives their absent Husbands mourn.
No more shall Dunkirk's plund'ring Privateers,
Ruin the Merchant or augment his Fears,
Since our bless'd Queen gives universal Peace,
And, as She ought, commands the British Seas.
Then rise, Britania, rescu'd from the Sword,
Thy former Glories are again restor'd;
Bow down thy Head, adore the Queen that reigns,
And teach thy factious Sons obedience,
That with united Hearts we all may pray,
Good Anna long may bear the Sov'reign sway,
Whose Wisdom hath redeem'd and set us free
From Slav'ry, Knav'ry, and Presbytery.
Or Armies prey upon their Country's good.
No more shall fatal War draw Widows Tears,
Or youthful Thousands drop at half their Years.
No more shall Sons be from their Parents torn,
Or loving Wives their absent Husbands mourn.
No more shall Dunkirk's plund'ring Privateers,
Ruin the Merchant or augment his Fears,
Since our bless'd Queen gives universal Peace,
And, as She ought, commands the British Seas.
27
Thy former Glories are again restor'd;
Bow down thy Head, adore the Queen that reigns,
And teach thy factious Sons obedience,
That with united Hearts we all may pray,
Good Anna long may bear the Sov'reign sway,
Whose Wisdom hath redeem'd and set us free
From Slav'ry, Knav'ry, and Presbytery.
An Epigram.
By the same Hand.
Justice by Whigs, by idle Spendthrifts Gold,
And mourning Love b'ing banish'd by the Old,
These exil'd Deities in Council meet,
That each on Earth may find a safe Retreat;
Justice in Ox---d's Heart secures her rest,
The wanton God resolves on O---nd's Breast,
And Gold, for safety, flies to M---'s Chest.
28
[If Bread and Cheese and Onions]
[_]
Since some Lady was so kind to send an Answer to the Countryman's description of his Mistress, in order to oblige her, we have introduc'd it with some little Alteration.
Can make a Rogue a Saint,
And Shitrodox Compinions
His wicked Actions paint.
Then Gaffer you may flout me,
As one that looks but odly,
And think I've nought about me
That's fit to please the Godly.
You first impare me to a Colt,
But may the Murrain take me,
If ever such a Looby Dolt
As you, shall ever back me.
Next you do zay I'm like a Cow,
And for my Udders scoff me,
But I'll lead Apes in Hell e're yow
Shall have the milking of me.
29
Like Flitch of rusty Bacon,
If e'er you hope you shall command
A Rashier, you're mistaken.
I don't pretend to have a Skin
As fair as Madam Juno,
Tho' reas'd without, 'tis red within,
But that is more than you know.
I'd need be fond of being yours,
You're such a tidy Fellow,
Whose Bristles, like your sandy Boar's,
Are tip'd with Sunburnt yellow.
Go thrash your Barly, tread your Mow,
Or hunt your Hogs with Booby,
For I am no such silly Sow,
To wed with such a Looby.
30
The Justice and the Bawd.
Madam, you plainly find, quoth Justice Clod,
The Evidence can swear that you're a Bawd;
And, let me tell you, were I so hard-hearted
To bind you over, you'd be surely carted;
Don't be so rash to hazard the Disgrace,
E'en make it up, for 'tis an ugly Case;
Take my Advice, commute with them and pay,
'Twill prove the wisest and the cheapest way;
For if it comes before the Bench, depend on't,
A Whipping will be certainly the end on't.
The Evidence can swear that you're a Bawd;
And, let me tell you, were I so hard-hearted
To bind you over, you'd be surely carted;
Don't be so rash to hazard the Disgrace,
E'en make it up, for 'tis an ugly Case;
Take my Advice, commute with them and pay,
'Twill prove the wisest and the cheapest way;
For if it comes before the Bench, depend on't,
A Whipping will be certainly the end on't.
But pray, your Worship, hear me but a little,
Quoth Madam, these are Rogues that rob the Spittle
Degraded Pimps, vile mercenary Fellows,
Notorious Villains that would shame a Gallows,
And should their Oaths be taken in such Cases,
Thousands behind a Cart would make wry Faces,
Who wear brocaded Sattins, ride in Coaches,
And live in Pomp by managing Debauches;
Therefore I hope your Worship will excuse me
This time, and let them not too hardly use me;
For now the Lawyers are the Circuit gone,
And Rakes, in shoals, to Dunkirk daily run,
Trading's so bad I scarce can buy Strong-waters,
Or find Provisions for myself and Daughters.
Quoth Madam, these are Rogues that rob the Spittle
Degraded Pimps, vile mercenary Fellows,
Notorious Villains that would shame a Gallows,
And should their Oaths be taken in such Cases,
Thousands behind a Cart would make wry Faces,
31
And live in Pomp by managing Debauches;
Therefore I hope your Worship will excuse me
This time, and let them not too hardly use me;
For now the Lawyers are the Circuit gone,
And Rakes, in shoals, to Dunkirk daily run,
Trading's so bad I scarce can buy Strong-waters,
Or find Provisions for myself and Daughters.
Quoth Justice Clod, I know the Times are hard,
Give 'em but half a Guinea to reward
Their trouble. Gentlemen, she keeps no common
Brothel, pray take it, she's a civil Woman,
And, for the future, 'less you find a Riot
Within her House, pray let her live in quiet.
Give 'em but half a Guinea to reward
Their trouble. Gentlemen, she keeps no common
Brothel, pray take it, she's a civil Woman,
And, for the future, 'less you find a Riot
Within her House, pray let her live in quiet.
Quoth Madam, there's your Money, Gentlemen,
Tho' I've not got so much the Lord knows when.
I thank your Worship for your tender Heart,
'Tis more your Goodness, Sir, than my Desert.
Tho' I've not got so much the Lord knows when.
I thank your Worship for your tender Heart,
'Tis more your Goodness, Sir, than my Desert.
32
The Tobacco Sot.
An Epigram.
Says Jack, a dry consumptive smoaking Sot,Whose Mouth with Weed was always glowing hot,
Where shall I go, alas, when Death shall come,
And with his rawbon'd Clutches seal my Doom?
Faith, replies Tom, there can no Heaven be,
Without Tobacco, for such Sots as thee.
Nor need you fear a Hell when you expire,
You've dealt so much on Earth in Smoak and Fire.
An Enigma.
Possession gives me Right, Birth gives thee thine,'Tis yours by Nature, but by Law 'tis mine.
Yours is but Title, mine is real Fact;
You only can pretend, I've pow'r to act.
Therefore, since you have neither Law nor Might
I claim by an indisputable Right.
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