Poems on Affairs of State

After two sittings now our Lady-State
T'end her Picture doth the third time wait;
But e're thou fall'st to work, first Painter see,
If't be'nt too slight grown, or too hard for thee.
Canst thou paint without Colours, then 'tis right?
For so we too without a Fleet can fight.
Or canst thou daub a Sign-post, and that ill?
'Twill suit our great Debauch, and little Skill.
Or hast thou markt how Antique Masters Limn,
The Aly roof with Snuff of Candledimme,
Sketching in shady Smoak, prodigious tools?
'Twill serve this race of Drunkards, Pimps and Fools,
But if to match our crimes thy skill presumes,
As th'Indian draw our luxury in Plumes.
Or if to score out our Compendious fame,
With Hook then thro your Microscope take aim.
Where like the new Comptroller all Men laugh,
To see a tall Louse brandish a white Staff.
Else shalt thou oft thy guiltless Pencil curse,
Stamp on thy Palate, nor perhaps the worse.
The Painter so long having vext his Cloth,
Of his Hounds mouth to feign the raging Froth,
His desperate Pencil at the work did dart;
His anger reacht that rage which past his Art.
Chance finisht that, which Art could but begin,
And he sat Smiling how his Dog did grin.
So may'st thou perfect by a lucky Blow,
What all thy softest touches cannot do.

Paint then St Albans full of Soop and Gold,
The new Courts pattern, Stallion of the old.
Him neither Wit nor Courage did exalt,
But Fortune chose him for her pleasure's Salt.
Paint him with Dray-mans Shoulders, Butchers meine,

Member'd like Mule, with Elephantine Chin.
Well, he the Title of St. Albans bore;
For never Bacon studied Nature more:
But age allaying now that Youthful heat,
Fits him in France to play at Cards and cheat.

Draw now Commission, lest the Court should lye,
And disavowing Treaty ask supply;
He needs no Seal, but to St. James's lease,
Whose Breeches were the Instruments of Peace.
Who if the French dispute his power, from thence
Can strait produce them a Plenipotence.
Nor fears he the Most Christian should trapan
Two Saints at once, St German, St. Alban;
But thought the Golden age was now restor'd,
When Men and Women took each others word.

Paint then again her Highness to the Life,
Philosopher beyond Newcastles Wife:
She naked can Archimedes self put down
For an experiment upon the Crown.
She perfected that Engine oft essay'd,
How after Child-birth to renew a Maid;
And found how Royal Heirs might be matur'd
In fewer months than Mothers once endur'd.
Hence Crowder made the rare Inventress free
Of's Highnesses Royal Society.
(Happiest of Women if she were but able
To make her glassen Duke once malleable.)
Paint her with Oyster lip, and Breath of fame,
Wide Mouth, that Sparagus may well proclaim;
With Chancellors Belly, and so large a Rump,
There (not behind the Coach) her Pages jump:
Express her Studying now if China Clay
Can without breaking venom'd Juice convey.
Or how a mortal Poison she may draw
Out of the Cordial Meal of the Cacoe.
Witness ye Stars of Night, and thou the pale
Moon, that o'ercome with the sick Steam didst fail.

Ye neighbouring Elms that your green Leaves did shed,
And Fauns that from the Womb abortive fled.
Not unprovok'd she tries forbidden Arts,
But in her soft Breast Loves hid Cancer smarts,
While she revolves at once Sydney's disgrace,
And her self scorn'd, for emulous Denhams Face,
And nightly hears the hated Guards away
Galloping with the Duke to other Prey.

Paint Castlemain in colours that will hold
Her, not her Picture, for she now grows old.
She thro' her Lackey's, Drawers, as he ran,
Discern'd Loves cause, and a new flame began.
Her wonted joys thenceforth, and Court she shuns,
And still within her mind the Footman runs.
His brazen Calves, his brawny Thighs (the Face
She slights) his Feet shap't for a smoother race.

Poring within her Glass she re-adjusts
Her locks, and oft try'd Beauty now distrusts;
Fears lest he scorn'd a Woman once assay'd,
And now first wisht she e're had been a Maid.
Great Love! how dost thou Triumph, and how reign,
That to a Groom could'st humble her disdain!
Stript to her Skin, see how she stooping stands,
Nor scorns to rub him down with those fair Hands,
And washing (lest the scent her crime disclose)
His sweaty Hoofs, tickles him 'twixt the Toes.
But envious Fame too soon began to note
More Gold in's Fob, more Lace upon his Coat;
And he unwary, and of Tongue too fleet,
No longer could conceal his Fortune sweet.
Justly the Rogue was whipt in Porters Den,
And Jermin streight has leave to come again.
Ah Painter! now could Alexander live,
And this Campaspe thee Apelles give.

Draw next a pair of Tablets opening, then
The House of Commons clattering like the Men.

Describe the Court and Country both set right
On opposite points, the Black against the White.
Those having lost the Nation at Tick-Tack,
These now adventuring how to win it back.
The Dice betwixt them must the fate divide,
(As Chance does still in multitudes decide)
But here the Court doth its advantage know,
For the cheat Turner for them both must throw;
As some from Boxes, he so from the Chair
Can strike the Dye, and still with them go share.
Here Painter rest a little, and survey
With what small Arts the Publick Game they play:
For so too, Rubens with affairs of State
His labouring Pencil oft would recreate.

The close Cabal markt how the Navy eats,
And thought all lost that goes not to the Cheats.
So therefore secretly for Peace decrees,
Yet as for War the Parliament would squeeze;
And fix to the revenue such a summe
Should Goodrick silence, and strike Paston Dumb:
Should pay land Armies, should dissolve the vain
Commons, and ever such a Court maintain,
Hides avarice, Bennets luxury should suffice:
And what can these defray but the Excise?
Excise a Monster, worse than e're before,
Frighted the Midwife, and the Mother tore:
A thousand Hands she has, and thousand Eyes,
Breaks into Shops, and into Cellars pries.
With hundred rows of Teeth the Shark exceeds,
And on all Trades like Casawar she feeds;
Chops of the piece wheres' e're she close the Jaw,
Else swallows all down her indented Maw.
She stalks all day in Streets conceal'd from sight,
And flyes like Batts with Leathern Wings by Night;
She wastes the Country, and on Cities preys:
Her of a Female Harpy in Dog-Days

Black Birch, of all the Earth-born Race most hot,
And most rapacious like himself, begot;
And of his Brat enamour'd, as 't increast,
Bugger'd in Incest with the Mungrel Beast.

Say Muse, for nothing can escape thy sight,
(And, Painter wanting other, draw this fight)
Who in an English Senate fierce debate
Could raise so long for this new Whore of State.

Of early Wittalls first the Troop marcht in;
For diligence renown'd, and Discipline.
In loyal haste they left young Wives in bed,
And Denham these with one consent did head.

Of the old Courtiers next a Squadron came,
That sold their Master, led by Ashburnham.

To them succeeds a despicable Rout,
But knew the word, and well could face about;
Expectants pale with hopes of Spoil allur'd,
Thô yet but Pioneers, and led by Steward.
Then damming Cowards rang'd the vocal plain:
Wood these command, Knight of the Horn, and Cane;
Still his hook-shoulder seems the blow to dread
And under's arm-pit he defends his head.
The posture strange men laught at, of his pole,
Hid with his Elbow like the Spice he stole:
Headless St. Dennis so his head does bear,
And both of them alike French Martyrs were.

Court Officers, as us'd, the next place took,
And follow'd F***x, but with disdainful look:
His birth, his youth, his brokage all dispraise
In vain: For always he commands that pays.

Then the procurers under Progers fil'd,
Gentlest of men, and his Lieutenant mild;
Bronkard Love's Squire, thrô all the Field array'd,
No Troop was better clad, nor so well pay'd.

Then marcht the Troop of Clarendon all full,
Haters of Fowl, to Teal preferring Bull:

Gross bodies, grosser Minds, and grosser Cheats,
And bloated Wren conducts them to their Seats.

Charleton advances next (whose Wife does awe
The Mitred Troop) and with his looks gives Law
He marches with Beaver cockt of Bishops Brimm,
And hid much fraud under an aspect grimme.

Next the Lawyers mercenary Band appear,
F***ch in the front, and Thurland in the rear.

The Troop of Priviledge, a Rabble bare
Of Debtors deep, fell to Trelawny's care;
Their Fortunes errour they supply'd in Rage,
Nor any further would than these ingage.

Then marcht the Troop whose valiant Acts before
(Their publick Acts) oblig'd them to do more.
For Chimnies sake they all Sir Pool obey'd,
Or in his absence him that first it laid.

Then come the thrifty Troop of Privateers
Whose horses each with other interferes,
Before them Higgons rides with brow compact,
Mourning his Countess anxious for his Act.

Sir Frederick and Sir Solomon draw lots
For the Command of Politicks and Scots;
Thence fell to words, but quarrels to adjourn,
Their friends agreed they should command by turn.

Carteret the rich did the Accountants guide
And in ill English all the world defy'd.

The Papist (but of those the House had none
Else) Talbot offer'd to have led them on.

Bold Duncomb next of the projectors chief,
And old Fitz Harding of the Eaters Beef.

Late and disorder'd out the Drunkards drew,
Scarce them their Leaders, they their Leaders knew.
Before them enter'd equal in command
Apsley and Brotherick marching hand in hand.

Last then but one Powel that could not ride
Led the French Standard weltring in his stride;

He, to excuse his slowness, truth confest,
That 'twas so long before he could be drest.

The Lords Sons last all these did reinforce,
Cornbury before them manag'd Hobby-Horse.

Never before, nor since an Host so steel'd
Troopt on to Muster in the Tuttle field.
Not the first Cock-horse that with Cork was shod
To rescue Albemarle from the Sea-Cod:
Nor the late Feather-men whom Tomkins fierce
Shall with one breath like Thistle-down disperse.
All, the two Coventries their Generals chose,
For one had much, the other naught to lose.
Nor better choice all accidents could hit,
While Hector Harry steers by Will the Wit.
They both accept the charge with merry glee,
To fight a Battle from all Gun-shot free.

Pleas'd with their Numbers, yet in Valour wise,
They feign a Parley, better to surprize;
They that e're long shall the rude Dutch upbraid,
Who in a time of Treaty durst Invade.

Thick was the Morning, and the House was thin,
The Speaker early, when they all fell in.
Propitious Heavens! had not you them crost,
Excise had got the day, and all been lost:
For t'other side all in loose Quarters lay
Without Intelligence, Command, or Pay.
A scatter'd body which the Foe ne're tri'd,
But often did among themselves divide.
And some ran o're each Night, while others sleep,
And undescry'd return'd 'fore Morning peep.
But Strangeways that all Night still walk the round,
For Vigilance and Courage both renown'd;
First spy'd the Enemy, and gave the Allarm,
Fighting it single till the rest might Arm:
Such Roman Cocles stood before the Foe,
The falling Bridge behind, the Streams below.

Each ran as Chance him guides to several post,
And all to pattern his Example, boast;
Their former Trophies they recal to mind,
And to new edge their angry courage grind.

First enter'd forward Temple, Conqueror
Of Irish Cattle, and Solicitor;

Then daring S****r, that with Spear and Shield
Had stretcht the Monster Patent on the field.
Keen Whorwood next in aid of Damsel frail,
That pierc'd the Gyant Mordant through his Mayl:
And surly Williams the Accountants Bane,
And Lovelace young of Chimny-men the Cane.
Old Waller, Trumpet General, swore he'd write
This combat truer than the Naval fight.
Of birth, state, wit, strength, courage, Howr'd presumes,
And in his breast wears many Montezumes.
These with some more with single valour stay
The adverse Troops, and hold them all at Bay.
Each thinks his person represents the whole,
And with that thought does multiply his soul;
Believes himself an Army; theirs, one man;
As easily conquer'd, and believing, can
With heart of Bees so full. and head of Mites,
That each, though Duelling, a battle fights.
Such once Orlando famous in Romance,
Broacht whole Brigades like Larks upon his lance.

But strength at last still under number bows,
And the faint sweat trickl'd down Temples brows;
Even Iron Strangewayes chafing yet gave back,
Spent with fateigue, to breathe a while Toback—
When marching in, a seasonable recruit
Of Citizens, and Merchants, held dispute,
And charging all their Pikes, a sullen band
Of Presbyterian Switzers made a stand.

Nor could all these the field have long maintain'd,
But for th'unknown resérve that still remain'd;

A gross of English Gentry nobly born,
Of clear Estates, and to no Faction sworn,
Dear Lovers of their King, and Death to meet
For Countreys cause, that glorious thing and sweet,
To speak not forward, but in action brave,
In giving generous, but in Council grave:
Candidly credulous for once; nay twice:
But sure the Devil can't cheat them thrice.
The Van and Battle, thô retiring, falls
Without disorder in their Intervals;
Then closing all in equal front, fall on,
Led by great Garr'way, and great L***on.
Lee equal to obey, or to command
Adjutant General was still at hand.
The Marshal Standard Sands displaying shows
St. Dunstan in it tweaking Satan's Nose.
See, sudden chance of War to paint, or write,
Is longer work, and harder than to fight:
At the first charge the Enemy give out,
And the Excise receives a total rout.

Broken in courage, yet the men the same,
Resolve henceforth upon their other game;
Where force had fail'd, with Stratagem to play,
And what haste lost, recover by delay.
St. Alban's strait is sent to, to forbear,
Lest the sure Peace (forsooth) too soon appear.
The Seamens clamours to three ends they use,
To cheat their pay, seign want, and th'House accuse.
Each day they bring the tale, and that too true,
How strong the Dutch their Equipage renew.
Mean time thrô all the Yards their Orders run,
To lay the Ships up, cease the Keels begun.
The Timber rots, the useless Axe does rust;
Th'unpractis'd Saw lies buryed in its dust;
The busie Hammer sleeps, the Ropes untwine,
The Stores and Wages all are mine and thine.

Along the Coasts and Harbours they take care
That Money lacks, nor Forts be in repair.
Long thus they could against the House conspire,
Load them with envy, and with sitting tire:
And the lov'd King, and never yet deny'd,
Is brought to beg in publick, and to chide:
But when this fail'd, and Months enough were spent,
They with the first days proffer seem content;
And to Land-Tax from the Excise turn round,
Bought off with Eighteen hundred thousand pound.
Thus like fair Thieves, the Commons Purse they share,
But all the Members lives consulting spare.

Blither than Hare that hath escap'd the Hounds,
The House prorogu'd, the Chancellour rebounds.
Not so decripet Æson hasht and stew'd
With Magick Herbs rose from the Pot renew'd;
And with fresh age felt his glad Limbs unite,
His Gout (yet still he curst) had left him quite.
What Frosts to Fruits, what Arsnick to the Rat,
What to fair Denham mortal Chocolat;
What an account to Carteret, that and more
A Parliament is to the Chancellour.
So the sad Tree shrinks from the morning's Eye,
But blooms all Night, and shoots its Branches high.
So at the Suns recess, again returns
The Comet dread, and Earth and Heaven burns.

Now Mordant may within his Castle Tower
Imprison Parents, and the Child deflower.

The Irish Herd is now let loose, and comes
By Millions over, not by Hecatombs:
And now, now the Canary Patent may
Be broach't again for the great Holy-day.
See how he reigns in his new Palace culminant
And sits in state Divine like Jove the Fulminant.
First Buckingham that durst 'gainst him rebel,
Blasted with Lightning, struck with Thunder fell.

Next the twelve Commons are Condemn'd to Groan,
And roll in vain at Sisiphus's Stone.
But still he car'd, whilst in Revenge he brav'd
That Peace secur'd, and Mony might be sav'd,
Gain and Revenge, Revenge and Gain are sweet,
United most, then when by turns they meet.
France had St. Albans promis'd (so they Sing)
St. Albans promis'd him, and he the King.
The Count forthwith is ordered all to close,
To Play for Flanders, and the stake to lose.
While chain'd together, two Embassadours
Like Slaves shall beg for Peace at Hollands Doors.
This done, among his Cyclops he retires
To forge new Thunder, and inspect their Fires.
The Court as once of War, now fond of Peace,
All to new sports their wanton fears release.
From Greenwich (where Intelligence they hold)
Comes news of Pastime Martial and old.
A punishment invented first to awe
Masculine Wives transgressing Natures Law;
Where when the brawny female disobeys
And beats the Husband, till for Peace he prays,
No concern'd Jury dammage for him finds,
Nor partial Justice her behaviour binds;
But the just Street does the next house invade,
Mounting the Neighbour couple on lean Jade;
The Distaff knocks, the Grains from Kettle fly,
And Boys and Girles in Troops run hooting by.
Prudent Antiquity! that knew by shame,
Better than Law, Domestick Brawls to tame;
And taught Youth by spectacle Innocent,
So thou and I dear Painter represent
In quick Effigie; others faults, and feign,
By making them ridic'lous, to restrain:
With homely sight they chose thus to relax
The joys of State for the new Peace and Tax.
So Holland with us had the Mastery try'd,

And our next Neighbours, France and Flanders ride.

But a fresh News the great designment nips
Off, at the Isle of Candy, Dutch and Ships.
Bab May, and Arlington did wisely scoff,
And thought all safe, if they were so far off;
Modern Geographers! 'Twas there they thought
Where Venice twenty years the Turks had fought,
(While the first year our Navy is but shewn,
The next divided, and the third we've none.)
They by the Name mistook it for that Isle
Where Pilgrim Palmer travell'd in Exile,
With the Bulls horn to measure his own Head,
And on Phasiphae's Tomb to drop a bead.
But Morrice Learn'd demonstrates by the Post,
This Isle of Candy was on Essex Coast.

Fresh Messengers still the sad news assure,
More timerous now we are than first secure.
False terrours our believing fears devise,
And the French Army one from Calais spies.
Bennet and May, and those of shorter reach,
Change all for Guineas and a Crown for each;
But wiser Men, and Men foreseen in chance
In Holland theirs had Lodg'd before, and France.
White-Hall's unsafe, the Court all meditates
To fly to Windsor and mure up the Gates.
Each doth the other blame, and all distrust,
(But Mordant new oblig'd would sure be just.)
Not such a fatal stupefaction reign'd
At Londons Flames, nor to the Court complain'd.
The Bloodworth Chanc'lor gives, (then does recall)
Orders, amaz'd, at last gives none at all.

St. Albans writ too, that he may bewail
To Monr. Lewis and tell Coward tale,
How that the Hollanders do make a noise,
Threaten to beat us, and are naughty Boys.
Now Doleman's disobedient, and they still
Uncivil, his unkindness would us kill.

Tell him our Ships unrigg'd, our Forts unman'd,
Oru Money's spent, else 'twere at his command;
Summon him therefore of his word, and prove
To move him out of pity, if not love;
Pray him to make D' Wit and Ruyter cease,
And whip the Dutch, unless they'lhold their peace.
But Lewis was of memory but dull,
And to St. Albans too undutiful:
Nor word, nor near Relation did revere,
But askt him bluntly for his Character.
The gravell'd Count did with this Answer faint,
(His Character was that which thou didst paint)
And so inforc'd like Enemy or Spie,
Trusses his Baggage, and the Camp does flie:
Yet Lewis writes, and lest our heart should break,
Condoles us morally out of Seneque.

Two Letters next unto Breda are sent,
In Cypher one to Harry excellent:
The first entrusts (our Verse that Name abhors)
Plenipotentiary Embassadors;
To prove by Scripture, Treaty does imply
Cessation, as the Look Adultery;
And that by Law of Arms, in Martial strife,
Who yields his Sword, has title to his Life.
Presbyter Hollis the first point should clear,
The second Coventry the Cavalier:
But would they not be argu'd back from Sea,
Then to return home strait infectâ re.
But Harry's order'd if they won't recall
Their Fleet, to threaten—we will give them all.
The Dutch are then in Proclamation shent,
For sin against the eleventh Commandement.
Hides flippant style there pleasantly curvets,
Still his sharp wit on States and Princes whets:
So Spain could not escape his laughters spleen,
None but himself must choose the King a Queen.

But when he came the odious clause to pen,
That summons up the Parliament agen,
His Writing-master many times he bann'd,
And wisht himself the Gout to seize his hand;
Never old Lecher more repugnance felt,
Consenting for his Rupture to be gelt.
But still in hope he solac't e're they come
To work the Peace, aud so to send them home;
Or in their hasty call, to find a flaw,
Their Acts to vitiate, and them over-aw:
But more rely'd upon this Dutch pretence,
To raise a two-edg'd Army for's defence.

First then he marcht our whole Militia's force,
(As if alas we Ships, or Dutch had Horse,)
Then from the usual common place he blames
These, and in standing Armies praise declaims:
And the wise Court that alway lov'd it dear,
Now thinks all but too little for their fear.
Hide stamps, and strait upon the ground the swarms
Of currant Myrmidons appear in Arms;
And for their pay he writes as from the King,
With that curs'd quill pluckt from a Vultures wing,
Of the whole Nation now to ask a Loan;
(The Eighteen hundred thousand pounds are gone,)
This done, he pens a Proclamation stout
In rescue of the Bankers Banquerout.
His Minion-Imps that in his secret part
Lye nuzzling at the Sacramental Wart;
Horse-leeches sucking at the Hæm'rhoid Vein,
He sucks the King, they him, he them a gain.
The Kingdoms Farm he lets to them bids least;
(Greater the Bribe) and cheats at Interest.
Here men induc'd by safety, gain, and ease,
Their Money lodge, confiscate when he please:
These can at need, at instant with a Scrip
(This lik't him best) his Cash beyond Sea whip;

When Dutch invade, and Parliament prepare;
How can he Engines so convenient spare?
Let no man touch them, or demand his own,
'Pain of displeasure of great Clarendon.

The State affairs thus marshall'd, for the rest,
Monk in his shirt against the Dutch is prest.
Often (dear Painter) have I sate and mus'd
Why he should still b' on all adventures us'd:
Do they for nothing ill like Ashen-wood,
Or think him like Herb-John for nothing good?
Whether his Valour they so much admire,
Or that for cowardise they all retire.
As, Heaven in Storms they call, in gusts of State
On Monk and Parliament, yet both do hate.
All causes sure concur, but most they think
Under Herculean labours he may sink.
Soon then the Independent Troops would close,
And Hides last project of his place dispose:

Ruyter the while that had our Ocean curb'd,
Sail'd now amongst our Rivers undisturb'd;
Survey'd their Crystal-streams, and banks so green,
And beauties e're this never naked seen:
Through the vain Sedge the bashful Nymphs he ey'd,
Bosoms, and all which from themselves they hide.
The Sun much brighter, and the Sky more clear
He finds, the air and all things sweeter here:
The sudden change, and such a tempting sight
Swells his old veins with fresh blood, fresh delight.
Like am'rous Victors, he begins to shave,
And his new face looks in the English wave.
His sporting Navy all about him swim,
And witness their complacence in their trim.
Their streaming silks play through the weather fair,
And with inveigling colours court the air.
While the Red Flags breath on their top-masts high
Terrour and War, but want an Enemy.

Among the Shrouds the Sea-men sit and sing,
And wanton boys on every rope do cling:
Old Neptune Springs the Tydes, and Waters lent,
(The Gods themselves do help the provident)
And where the deep Keel on the shallow cleaves,
With Trident's Leaver and great Shoulder heaves.
Æolus their Sails inspires with Eastern wind,
Puffs them along, and breathes upon them kind.
With pearly Shell, the Tritons all the while
Sound the Sea-march, and guide to Sheppy Isle.

So have I seen in Aprils bud arise,
A Fleet of clouds sailing along the skies.
The liquid Region with their Squadrons fill'd,
Their airy sterns the Sun behind does guild,
And gentle gales them steer, and Heaven drives,
When all on sudden their calm bosom rives
With Thunder and Lightning from each armed cloud,
Shepherds themselves in vain in Bushes shroud.
So up the Stream the Belgick Navy glides,
And at Sheerness unloads its stormy sides.

Sprag there, though practis'd in the Sea command,
With panting heart lay like a Fish on Land,
And quickly judg'd the Fort was not tenable;
Which if a house, yet were not tenantable.
No man can sit there safe, the Canon pours
Through the walls untight, and Bullets showers.
The neighbourhood ill, and an unwholsom seat,
So at the first salute resolves retreat;
And swore, that he would never more dwell there,
Until the City put it in repair.
So he in front, his Garrison in rear,
Marcht streight to Chatham to increase the fear:

There our sick Ships unrigg'd in Summer lay,
Like moulting fowl, a weak and easie Prey:
For whose strong bulk Earth scarce could timber find,
The Ocean water, or the Heavens wind.

Those Oaken Gyants of the ancient race,
That rul'd all Seas and did our Channel Grace.
The conscious Stag, thô once the Forrest's dread,
Fys to the Wood and hides his armless head:
Ruyter forthwith a Squadron does untack,
They sail securely through the Rivers track.
An English Pilot too (Oh shame! Oh sin!)
Cheated of's pay, was he that shew'd them in.

Our wretched Ships within their fate attend,
And all our hopes now on frail Chain depend:
(Engine so slight to guard us from the Sea,
It fitter seem'd to captivate a Flea.)
A Skipper rude shocks it without respect,
Filling his Sayls more force to recollect.
Th'English from shore the Iron deaf invoke
For its ast aid, Hold Chain, or we are broke!
But with her sayling weight the Holand Keel,
Snapping the brittle links, does thorough reel,
And to the rest the opened passage shew:

Monk from the bank that dismal sight does view.
Our feather'd Gallants which came down that day
To be Spectators safe of the New Play,
Leave him alone when first they hear the Gun,
(Cornb'ry the fleetest) and to London run.

Our Seamen, whom no dangers shape could fright,
Unpaid, refuse to mount our Ships for spight:
Or to their fellows swim on board the Dutch,
Who shew the tempting Metal in their clutch.
Oft had he sent, of Duncomb and of Legg
Cannon and Powder, but in vain, to beg.
And Upnor Castle's ill deserted Wall,
Now needful does for Ammunition call.
He finds, wheres'ere he succour might expect,
Confusion, Folly, Treach'ry, Fear, Neglect.

But when the Royal Charles (what rage! what grief!)
He saw seiz'd, and could give her no relief;

That Sacred Keel that had, as he, restor'd
It's exil'd Sov'raign on its happy board,
And thence the British Admiral became,
Crown'd for that merit with his Masters Name:
That Pleasure-boat of War, in whose dear side
Secure, so oft he had this Foe defy'd,
Now a cheap Spoyl, and the mean Victors slave,
Taught the Dutch colours from its top to wave;
Of former glories the reproachful thought
With present shame compar'd, his mind distraught.

Such from Euphrates bank a Tigress fell
After her Robbers for her Whelps does yell;
But sees enrag'd the River flow between,
Frustrate Revenge, and Love by loss more keen;
At her own breast her useless claws does arm,
She tears her self, 'cause him she cannot harm.

The Guards plac'd for the Chain's and Fleet's defence,
Long since were fled on many a feign'd pretence.
Daniel had there adventur'd, man of might,
Sweet Painter, draw his Picture while I write.

Paint him of Person tall, and big of Bone,
Large Limbs like Oxe, not to be kill'd but shewn;
Scarce can burnt Iv'ry feign a hair so black,
Or face so red, thine Oker and thy Lack;
Mix a vain terrour in his Martial look,
And all those lines by which men are mistook;
But when by shame constrain'd to go on Board,
He heard how the wild Cannon nearer roar'd,
And saw himself confin'd like Sheep in Pen,
Daniel then thought he was in Lions Den:
But when the frightful Fire-Ships he saw,
Pregnant with Sulphur nearer to him draw,
Captain, Lieutenant, Ensign, all make hast,
E're in the fiery Furnace they be cast;
Three Children tall unsing'd, away they row,
Like Shadrack, Mesheck and Abednego.

Each doleful Day still with fresh loss returns,
The Loyal London now a third time burns.
And the true Royal Oak and Royal James,
Ally'd in Fate, encrease with theirs her flames.
Of all our Navy none should now survive,
But that the Ships themselves were taught to dive;
And the kind River in its Creek them hides,
Fraughting their pierced Keels with Ouzy sides;
Up to the Bridge contagious terror struck,
The Tow'r it self with the near danger shook,
And were not Ruyter's Maw with ravage cloy'd,
Ev'n Londons ashes had been then destroy'd.
Officious fear however to prevent,
Our loss does so much more our loss augment.
The Dutch had robb'd those Jewels of the Crown,
Our Merchant men, lest they should burn, we drown;
So when the Fire did not enough devour,
The Houses were demolisht near the Tow'r.
Those Ships that yearly from their teeming hole
Unloaded here the Birth of either Pole,
Fir from the North, and Silver from the West,
From the South Perfumes, Spices form the East;
From Gambo Gold, and from the Ganges Jems,
Take a short Voyage underneath the Thames:
Once a deep River, now with Timber floor'd,
And shrunk, less navigable, to a Ford.

Now nothing more at Chathams left to burn,
The Holland Squadron leisurely return,
And spight of Ruperts and of Albermarles,
To Ruyters Triumph led the Captive Charles.
The pleasing sight he often does prolong,
Her Mast erect, tough Cordage, Timber strong,
Her moving shape, all these he doth survey,
And all admires, but most his easie Prey.
The Seamen search her all within, without,
Viewing her strength they yet their conquest doubt;

Then with rude shouts secure, the Air they vex,
With gamesom joy insulting on her Decks;
Such the fear'd Hebrew Captive, blinded, shorn,
Was led about in sport, the publick scorn.

Black day accurst! on thee let no man hale
Out of the Port, or dare to hoyse a Sail,
Or row a Boat in thy unlucky hour,
Thee, the years Monster, let thy Dam devour;
And constant time to keep his course yet right,
Fill up thy space with a redoubled Night.
When aged Thames was bound with Fetters base,
And Medway chaste ravisht before his face,
And their dear Offspring murder'd in their sight,
Thou and thy fellows heldst the odious light.
Sad chance since first that happy Pair was wed,
When all the Rivers grac'd their Nuptial bed,
And father Neptune promis'd to resign
His Empire old to their Immortall line;
Now with vain grief their vainer hopes they rue,
Themselves dishonour'd, and the gods untrue;
And to each other helpless couple mourn,
As the sad Tortoise for the Sea do's groan:
But most they for their darling Charles complain,
And were it burnt, yet less would be their pain.
To see that fatal Pledge of Sea command,
Now in the Ravisher de Ruyters hand,
The Thames roar'd, swooning Medway turn'd her tyde,
And were they mortal, both for grief had dy'd.

The Court in Farthing yet it self do's please,
(And female Steward there rules the four Seas,)
But Fate does still accumulate our Woes,
And Richmond her commands as Ruyter those.

After this loss, to relish Discontent,
Some one must be accus'd by punlishment;
All our miscarriages on Pett must fall,
His Name alone seems fit to answer all.

Whose Counsel first did this mad War beget?
Who all Commands fold through the Navy? Pett.
Who would not follow when the Dutch were beat?
Who treated out the Time at Bergen? Pett.
Who the Dutch Fleet with Storms disabled met?
And rifling Prizes them neglected? Pett.
Who with false News prevented the Gazette,
The Fleet divided, writ for Rupert? Pett.
Who all our Sea-men cheated of their debt,
And all our Prizes who did swallow? Pett.
Who did advise no Navy out to set?
And who the Forts left unprepared? Pett.
Who to supply with Powder did forget
Languard, Sheerness, Gravesend and Upnor? Pett!
Who all our Ships expos'd in Chattam Nett?
Who should it be, but the Fanatick Pett?
Pett, the Sea-architect in making Ships,
Was the first Cause of all these Naval slips.
Had he not built, none of these faults had been;
If no Creation, there had been no sin.
But his great Crime, one Boat away he sent,
That lost our Fleet, and did our flight prevent.

Then that reward might in its turn take place,
And march with Punishment in equal pace,
Southampton dead, much of the Treasure's care
And place in Council fell to Duncombs share.
All men admir'd, he to that pitch could fly,
Powder ne're blew man up so soon, so high:
But sure his late good husbandry in Peeter,
Shew'd him to manage the Exchequer meeter;
And who the Forts would not vouchsafe a Corn,
To lavish the Kings Money more would scorn.
Who hath no Chimneys, to give all, is best,
And ablest Speaker, who of Law hath least.
Who less Estate for Treasurer most fit,
And for a Chanc'lour he that has least wit.

But the true Cause was that in's Brother May,
Th'Exchequer might the privy Purse obey.
And now draws near the Parliaments return,
Hide and the Court again begin to mourn;
Frequent in Council, earnest in debate,
All Arts they try how to prolong its date.
Grave Primate Shelden (much in Preaching there)
Blames the last Session, and this more do's fear;
With Boynton or with Middleton 'twere sweet,
But with a Parliament abhors to meet,
And thinks 'twill ne're be well within this Nation,
'Till it be govern'd by a Convocation.

But in the Thames mouth still de Ruyter lay'd,
The Peace not sure, new Army must be pay'd;
Hide saith he hourly waits for a Dispatch,
Harry came Post just as he shew'd his Watch;
All to agree the Articles were clear,
The Holland Fleet and Parliament so near:
Yet Harry must jobb back and all mature,
Binding e're th'Houses meet the Treaty sure;
And 'twixt necessity and spight, till then
Let them come up so to go down agen.
Up ambles Country Justice on his Pad,
And Vest bespeaks to be more seemly clad;
Plain Gentlemen are in Stage-Coach o'rethrown,
And Deputy Lieutenants in their own;
The portly Burghess through the weather hot
Do's for his Corporation sweat and trot;
And all with Sun and Choller come adust,
And threaten Hide to raise a greater dust.

But fresh, as from the Mint, the Courtiers fine
Salute them, smiling at their vain design;
And Turner gay up to his Perch doth march,
With Face new bleacht, smoothed and stiff with Starch
Tells them he at White-hall had took a turn,
And for three dayes thence moves them to adjourn.

Not so, quoth Tomkins. and straight drew his Tongue,
Trusty as Steel that always ready hung,
And so proceeding in his motion warm,
Th'Army soon rais'd he doth as soon disarm.
True Trojan! whilst this Town can Girls afford,
And long as Cyder lasts in Hereford,
The Girls shall always kiss thee though grown old,
And in eternal Healths thy Name be troul'd.

Mean while the certain News of Peace arrives
At Court, so reprieves their Guilty Lives.

Hyde order Turner that he should come late,
Least some new Tomkins spring a fresh debate:
The King that day rais'd early from his rest,
Expects as at a Play till Turner's drest;
At last together Eaton came and he,
No Dial more could with the Sun agree:
The Speaker summon'd to the Lords repairs,
Nor gave the Commons leave to say their Pray'rs,
But like his Pris'ners to the Bar them led,
Where mute, they stand to hear their Sentence read;
Trembling with Joy, and fear Hide, them Prorogues,
And had almost mistook, and call'd them Rogues.

Dear Painter, draw this Speaker to the Foot,
Where Pencil cannot, there my Pen shall do't.
That may his Body, this his Mind explain;
Paint him in golden Gown, with Maces train,
Bright Hair, fair Face, obscure, and dull of Head,
Like Knife with Iv'ry haft, and edge of Lead:
At Pray'rs his eyes turn up the pious white,
But all the while his private Bill's in sight:
In Chair he smoaking sits like Master-Cook,
And a Poll-bill do's like his Apron look.
Well was he skill'd to season any Question,
And make a Sawce fit for White-halls digestion:
Whence every day the Palate more to tickle,
Court-Mushroms ready are sent in to pickle.

When Grievance's urg'd he swells like squatted Toad,
Frisks like a Frog to croak a Taxes load;
His Patient, Piss he could hold longer, than
An Urinal, and sit like any Hen:
At Table jolly as a Country Host,
And soaks his Sack with Norfolk like a Toast;
At Night than Chanticlere more brisk and hot,
And Serjeants Wife serves him for Pertelott.

Paint last the King and a dead shade of Night,
Only disperst by a weak Tapers light:
And those bright Gleams that dart along and glare
From his clear Eyes (yet these too dart with care;)
There as in the calm horror all alone,
He wakes and muses of th'uneasie Throne:
Raise up a sudden shape with Virgins Face,
Though ill agree her posture, hour or place;
Naked as born, and her round Arms behind,
With her own Tresses interwove and twin'd:
Her Mouth lockt up, a blind before her Eyes,
Yet from beneath her Veil her blushes rise,
And silent tears her secret Anguish speak,
Her Heart throbs, and with very shame would break,
The Object strange in him no terror mov'd,
He wondred first, then pityed, then he lov'd;
And with kind hand do's the coy Vision press,
Whose Beauty greater seem'd by her distress;
But soon shrunk back chill'd with a touch so cold,
And th'airy Picture vanisht from his hold;
In his deep thoughts the wonder did increase,
And he divin'd 'twas England or the Peace.

Express him startling, next with list'ning ear,
As one that some unusual Noise doth hear;
With Cannons, Trumpets, Drums his door surround,
But let some other Painter draw the Sound;
Thrice he did rise, thrice the vain Tumult fled,
But again Thunders when he lyes in Bed.

His mind secure do's the vain stroke repeat,
And finds the Drums Lewis's March did beat.

Shake then the Room and all his Curtains tear,
And with blew streaks infect the Taper clear,
While the pale Ghosts his Eye doth fixt admire,
Of Grandsire Harry and of Charles his Syre;
Harry sits down and in his Open-side
The grisly Wound reveals of which he dy'd;
And Ghostly Charles turning his Coller low,
The purple thred about his Neck doth shew:
Then whisp'ring to his Son in words unheard,
Through the lockt Door, both of them disappear'd;
The wondrous Night the pensive King revolves,
And rising straight on Hides disgrace resolves.

At his first step he Castlemain does find,
Bennet and Coventry as 'twere design'd;
And they not knowing, the same thing propose
Which his hid Mind did in his depths inclose:
Through their feign'd Speech their secret Hearts he knew,
To her own Husband Castlemain untrue;
False to his Master Bristol, Arlington.
And Coventry falser than any one,
Who to the Brother, Brother would betray;
Nor therefore trusts himself to such as they.
His Fathers Ghost too whisper'd him one Note,
That who does cut his Purse will cut his Throat:
But in wise Anger he their Crimes forbears,
As Thieves repriev'd for Executioner:
While Hide provok't his foaming Tusk do's whet
To prove them Traytors, and himself the Pett.

Painter, Adieu, how well our Arts agree,
Poetick Picture, Painted Poetry!

But this great work is for our Monarch fit,
And henceforth Charles only to Charles shall sit.
His Master-hand the Ancients hall out-do,
Himself the Poet and the Painter too.

University of Virginia Library

The last Instructions to a Painter, About the Dutch Wars 1667.