 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
A Bill on the House of Commons Door, April the 15th, 1680.
Gentlemen,
When last you were here th'House was to be lett,
But now to the Pope and the Frenchmen 'tis set;
If you'll club in amongst them, be quickly resolv'd,
Or else you must home again—rogu'd or dissolv'd.
We'll try for another may serve our Intention,
That will England betray for a Place or a Pension;
That's the Life of the Cause, and the End of Invention.
But now to the Pope and the Frenchmen 'tis set;
If you'll club in amongst them, be quickly resolv'd,
Or else you must home again—rogu'd or dissolv'd.
182
That will England betray for a Place or a Pension;
That's the Life of the Cause, and the End of Invention.
We lost an old Sett wou'd have done it no doubt,
But Pox on ill Luck, for Rogue Tommy was out,
Cou'd we get 'em again, we'd hug and collogue 'em,
Nor D---y, nor Dutchess should ever prorogue 'em.
An honest Endeavour to make us all Slaves:
Pray which the worst Evil, the Cause or the Knaves?
Old Albion looks ill, she was heard to complain,
Her Head, Oh! her Head was the Cause of the Pain:
It's all on a Lump, for it cannot discover
'Twixt its Catholick Foes and the Protestant Lover.
Her Empricks, and Quacks, called Divine, and some Civil,
Advise her to bleed again for the King's Evil;
But better the Rogues were sent quick to the Devil.
What, bleed an old Woman, Spring, Winter, and Fall!
Don't you know she's too old to be practis'd withal!
But if you do venture once more to attempt it,
It's Forty to One you're the first that repent it.
For your Plots, and your Murders, and Treasons shall try you,
Tho Monsieur, and Tories, and Devils stand by you.
But Pox on ill Luck, for Rogue Tommy was out,
Cou'd we get 'em again, we'd hug and collogue 'em,
Nor D---y, nor Dutchess should ever prorogue 'em.
An honest Endeavour to make us all Slaves:
Pray which the worst Evil, the Cause or the Knaves?
Old Albion looks ill, she was heard to complain,
Her Head, Oh! her Head was the Cause of the Pain:
It's all on a Lump, for it cannot discover
'Twixt its Catholick Foes and the Protestant Lover.
Her Empricks, and Quacks, called Divine, and some Civil,
Advise her to bleed again for the King's Evil;
But better the Rogues were sent quick to the Devil.
What, bleed an old Woman, Spring, Winter, and Fall!
Don't you know she's too old to be practis'd withal!
But if you do venture once more to attempt it,
It's Forty to One you're the first that repent it.
For your Plots, and your Murders, and Treasons shall try you,
Tho Monsieur, and Tories, and Devils stand by you.
Faxit Deus.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |