University of Virginia Library

If e'er you'l leave us in a lasting Peace,
You all our Grievances must first redress.
When Rulers stop their Ears to th'Peoples Cries,
'Tis a sad Symptom of Catastrophies.
In Watch or Clock things made irregular,
Tho ne'er so small, cause all the Work to jar,
And in the Body natural 'tis found,
That if ill Humours do therein abound,
Them the Physician must extenuate,
And make 'em with the rest co-operate:
So if in Bodies politick there be
Not found, 'twixt all Estates, a Harmony;
They cease not till, in tract of Time, they bring
All to confusion, Peasant, Lord, and King.
To make some great, and ruin all the rest,
In this a Commonwealth can ne'er be blest.
And does it follow hence, Great Sir, that we
Must be undone to all Posterity?
Let Equity and Justice plead our Cause,
And then refer us to our Antient Laws.
If Magna Charta must be wholly slighted,
We must conclude our Rulers are benighted.
But needs must we be poor, when it is known
We've had a second Price of Gavestone.
Your Pow'r is Sov'reign, else we durst not quote
This poys'nous Name without an Antidote.
Perfidious Clarend—! that Potent Thief,
His Prince's Blemish, and the People's Grief;
Who once did scorn to plunder by Retail,
Who stretch'd the States Purse till the Strings did fail:
He and his Fellow-Jugglers found the knack
To plough deep Furrows on the Nation's Back.
Like Glaziers, who excite the roaring Crew,
Windows to break, that they may make them new:
So these pick Quarrels with our Neighbour Nations,
Then baul at you to peel us with Taxations;
Which having got, still more and more they crave,
Ev'n like the Horse-leech, or devouring Grave:
For Avarice cannot be satisfy'd,
No more than Belzebub, and's Brother H---.
That Macchiavel we have not yet forgot,
Who brew'd that wicked Hellish Northern Plot;
Where many Gentlemen had ruin'd been,
If Providence had not step'd in between.
Who then among your selves secure can be,
If this be not check'd by Authority?
He was one of the open-handed Tribe,
Whose Avarice ne'er yet refus'd a Bribe.
What Suit at Law soe'er before him came,
He that produc'd most Angels, won the Game:
Be't right or wrong, or Plaintiff or Defendant
Should win the day if Gold were at the end on't.
How did he send without Remorse or Fear
Thousands of English to that Grave, Tangier?
What Usage had the Scots, thousands can tell,
When the late Remonstrators did rebel.
While Irish Rebels quit their old O Hone,
Poor English Protestants take up the Tone.
Empson's and Dudley's Fact compar'd with his,
Were but Night's Darkness unto Hell's Abyss.
The famous Spencers did in time pourtray
What should be acted by this Beast of Prey.
Earth him, and you shall find within his Cell
Those Mischiefs which no Age can parallel;
War, Fire and Blood, with vast expence of Treasure,
Ruin of Englishmen, his chiefest Pleasure.
In fine, for Mischief he was what you will,
The perfect Epitome of all Ill.
All good Men hate his Name; nay, what is worse,
Three Nations dog him with their heavy Curse.
As he regarded not the Widow's Tears,
So may just Heaven multiply his Fears:
Let Cain's most dreadful Doom soon overtake him,
And his Companion Gout never forsake him:
Let Heaven's Vengeance light upon his Pate,
And all our Injuries retaliate:
Till he himself to Justice does resign,
Let all Men call him cursed Clarend—.
Most dextrous Artist! he with mighty ease
Transplanted Dunkirk from beyond the Seas,
And dropt it near that fatal Spot of Land,
Where for him Tyburn now does weeping stand.
The echoing Ax from out the Tower does call,
To speed this Monster Epidemical:
But he upon us having play'd his Prank,
Follows his Brethren Finch and Wyndebank.
Thus Hyde by Name, is Hide by Practice too,
Yet cannot hide from Heav'n, tho hid from you:
And being gone, has left his Imps behind,
Whose only Work is all our Eyes to blind;
Lest tracing him you find their Villany,
Known yet to few but the all-seeing Eye.
If any thing of common Fame be true,
He's only gone our Mischiefs to renew:
And if his Practice justify our Fears,
He'll set's again together by the Ears.
Ambition's of the nature of the Devil,
Always to brood, and hatch, and bring forth Evil.
If true the Maxim be, Kings cannot err;
With Modesty we may from thence infer,
Ill thrives that hapless Nation then that shows
A silent Prince, and Chancellor that crows
Over his Equals, over all his Peers,
Over Phanaticks, over Cavaliers.
He was so absolute, 'twas hard to say,
Or him, or Charles, whether we must obey.
Ris'n from a Gentleman too near the Throne,
Sought not the Nation's Int'rest, but his own.
You are the Bridle in such Tyrants Jaws,
Who would destroy us, and subvert the Laws.
Now hold the Reins, now keep the Ballance true,
Find those Banditti that do lie purdieu.
If you, like Cato, for your Country stand,
Three noble Nations are at your Command:
While Justice, Truth and Righteousness do guide you,
We'll be your Guard, whatever shall betide you.
Disarm the Papists, and secure our Ports,
Place Protestants in Garisons and Forts.
Why should the French and Irish here bear sway,
Who Enemies to England are this day?
Let not our Magazines remain with those
That burnt our City, and still are our Foes;
Whose Hellish bloody Principles are such,
To butcher Englishmen they think not much.
What Safety, Peace, or Trade can we expect,
When these Protection find, and you neglect
Us to secure against such Cut-throat Dogs,
As swarm now in our Land like Egypt's Frogs?
What means the flocking of the French so fast
Into our Bowels thus with Arms to haste?
And must our Horses, which of Value be,
Be thus to France transported, as we see?
Are not our Forts and Castles all betray'd,
When all their Stores and Guns aside are laid
Out of the reach of such as would oppose
Both Foreign En'mies and Domestick Foes?
Did the dumb Child, when at his Father's Throat
He saw a Knife, immediately cry out?
Can we be silent when the Train is laid,
And Fire-works made ready, as 'tis said?
Look thro the Veil, and you will soon espy
That Romish Counsels close at work do lie
To undermine you, and Religion too:
Look well about you, lest you do it rue.

Now is the time t'acquit your selves like Men,
Now stand up for your Liberties, and then
The Laurel Wreath, and never-fading Bays
Shall crown your Heads, and we will sing your Praise.