The London-Spy Compleat In Eighteen Parts By the Author of the Trip to Jamaica [i.e. Edward Ward] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. | [Part IX.] |
| X. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
 | The London-Spy Compleat In Eighteen Parts |  |
198
IX. [Part IX.]
[Here Persons who for Places Wait]
Here Persons who for Places Wait,
Their Faithless Courtiers Greet:
And Men of Sense, made Fools by Fate,
Their Crafty Patrons meet.
Their Faithless Courtiers Greet:
And Men of Sense, made Fools by Fate,
Their Crafty Patrons meet.
Here Pension'd Spies like Saints appear,
Who do Mens Hearts inspect;
And whisper in the Statesmans Ear,
What they Abroad Collect.
Who do Mens Hearts inspect;
And whisper in the Statesmans Ear,
What they Abroad Collect.
Here News by Subtle Tongues is spread,
To try the Listening Crowd;
But what is Truth's a Secret made,
While Lyes are Talk'd aloud.
To try the Listening Crowd;
But what is Truth's a Secret made,
While Lyes are Talk'd aloud.
Beau Fools in Clusters here Resort,
And are so Sawcy grown,
They'll ask my Lord, what News from Court,
Who Smiles, and Answers, None.
And are so Sawcy grown,
They'll ask my Lord, what News from Court,
Who Smiles, and Answers, None.
To be Inform'd few caring less;
But ask as 'tis the Mode;
No Knowledge seek, but how to Dress.
Their Taylor is their God.
But ask as 'tis the Mode;
No Knowledge seek, but how to Dress.
Their Taylor is their God.
Here Flatterers meet their Empty Squires;
And praise their shallow Sense;
The Idiot in Return admires,
His fawning Eloquence.
And praise their shallow Sense;
The Idiot in Return admires,
His fawning Eloquence.
199
And that he further may Enjoy
A Man of such Desert,
He steps to Lockets, cross the Way,
And Treats him with a Quart.
A Man of such Desert,
He steps to Lockets, cross the Way,
And Treats him with a Quart.
The Gamester does this Bubble set;
And seems his mighty Friend;
Hence draws him to a Tavern Treat,
That's Fatal in the end.
And seems his mighty Friend;
Hence draws him to a Tavern Treat,
That's Fatal in the end.
Both such who Serve and Plague the State,
Do hither make their Way;
And Crowds of Humane Vultures wait,
To Catch their Silly Prey.
Do hither make their Way;
And Crowds of Humane Vultures wait,
To Catch their Silly Prey.
202
[Great were thy Wrongs, thy Patience still as great]
Great were thy Wrongs, thy Patience still as great;
When Faction Rul'd the Church, and Knaves the State;
Hard were thy Peoples Hearts, but harder yet thy Fate.
When Faction Rul'd the Church, and Knaves the State;
Hard were thy Peoples Hearts, but harder yet thy Fate.
Balm thou applyd'st whilst they still vext thee sore,
The more their Crimes thy Mercies grew the more;
Thy God like Mind was Rich, altho' thy Treasure Poor.
The more their Crimes thy Mercies grew the more;
Thy God like Mind was Rich, altho' thy Treasure Poor.
203
The Laws they smother'd in Rebellious Night,
And trod dark Paths, whilst thou pursu'dst the Light,
As they encreas'd their Shame, thy Glories shone more bright.
And trod dark Paths, whilst thou pursu'dst the Light,
As they encreas'd their Shame, thy Glories shone more bright.
Hadst thou in Rage thy Victories pursu'd,
And took delight in shedding Rebels Blood,
Thou'dst been secure, but wer't, alas, too Mild and Good.
And took delight in shedding Rebels Blood,
Thou'dst been secure, but wer't, alas, too Mild and Good.
Contempt of all thy Favours they return'd;
Yawn'd at thy Power, and at thy Person spurn'd;
Merry o'er others Spoils, whilst all true Subjects Mourn'd.
Yawn'd at thy Power, and at thy Person spurn'd;
Merry o'er others Spoils, whilst all true Subjects Mourn'd.
The Canting Pulpiteers by Dreams made wise,
Turn'd Gospel Truths into Audacious Lies;
And taught the Blood of Kings a Holy Sacrifice.
Turn'd Gospel Truths into Audacious Lies;
And taught the Blood of Kings a Holy Sacrifice.
Unlearn'd Mechanicks full of nought but Noise,
Were turn'd, thro' Grace, Expounders of the Laws,
And justify'd Rebellion to be Heavens Cause.
Were turn'd, thro' Grace, Expounders of the Laws,
And justify'd Rebellion to be Heavens Cause.
When Right, thro' want of due Assistance fail'd,
And Wrong thro' mislead Multitudes prevail'd,
The Trait'rous Torrent grew too strong to be Repell'd.
And Wrong thro' mislead Multitudes prevail'd,
The Trait'rous Torrent grew too strong to be Repell'd.
Thus the Mad Crowd who could no Ills Foresee,
Of all Restraint endeavouring to be Free,
Took off thy Head, because themselves would Headless be.
Of all Restraint endeavouring to be Free,
Took off thy Head, because themselves would Headless be.
206
[Fine Lace or Linnen, Sir]
Fine Lace or Linnen, Sir,
Good Gloves or Ribbons here;
What is't you please to Buy-Sir?
Pray what d'ye ask for this?
Ten Shillings is the Price;
It Cost me, Sir, no less,
I Scorn to tell a Lye-Sir.
Good Gloves or Ribbons here;
What is't you please to Buy-Sir?
Pray what d'ye ask for this?
Ten Shillings is the Price;
It Cost me, Sir, no less,
I Scorn to tell a Lye-Sir.
Madam, what is't you want,
Rich Fans of India Paint?
Fine Hoods or Scarfs, my Lady?
Silk Stockins will you Buy,
In Grain or other Dye?
Pray Madam, please your Eye:
I've Good as e'er was made-ye.
Rich Fans of India Paint?
Fine Hoods or Scarfs, my Lady?
Silk Stockins will you Buy,
In Grain or other Dye?
Pray Madam, please your Eye:
I've Good as e'er was made-ye.
My Lady, feel the Weight,
They're Fine, and yet not Slight,
I'd with my Mother trust-'em
For Goodness and for Wear,
Madam, I Vow and Swear,
I show'd you this same Pair,
In hopes to gain your Custom.
They're Fine, and yet not Slight,
I'd with my Mother trust-'em
For Goodness and for Wear,
Madam, I Vow and Swear,
I show'd you this same Pair,
In hopes to gain your Custom.
Pray tell me in a Word,
At what you can afford,
With Living Gain to sell em:
The Price is one Pound Five,
And as I hope to Live,
I do my Profit give,
Your Honour's very Welcome.
At what you can afford,
With Living Gain to sell em:
The Price is one Pound Five,
And as I hope to Live,
I do my Profit give,
Your Honour's very Welcome.
207
Knives, Penknives, Combs, or Scissors,
Tooth-Pickers, Sirs, or Tweesers;
Or Walking Canes, to Ease-ye.
Ladies d'ye want fine Toys,
For Misses or for Boys?
Of all sorts I have Choice,
And pretty things to please-ye.
Tooth-Pickers, Sirs, or Tweesers;
Or Walking Canes, to Ease-ye.
Ladies d'ye want fine Toys,
For Misses or for Boys?
Of all sorts I have Choice,
And pretty things to please-ye.
I want a little Babye;
As pretty a one as may be,
With Head-Dress made of Feather:
And now I think again,
I want a Toy from Spain,
You know what 'tis I mean:
Pray send 'em home together.
As pretty a one as may be,
With Head-Dress made of Feather:
And now I think again,
I want a Toy from Spain,
You know what 'tis I mean:
Pray send 'em home together.
| The London-Spy Compleat In Eighteen Parts | |