 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
175
The Fancy:
Or, The D. of York's last Farewel.
As I a walking was the other day,
(Where do not ask me, for I will not say)
I fancy'd 'mongst a Grove of Trees I spy'd
A Man stood musing by a Water-side:
I wish 'twas but a Fancy, but no doubt
You'll think it more when you have heard it out.
(Where do not ask me, for I will not say)
I fancy'd 'mongst a Grove of Trees I spy'd
A Man stood musing by a Water-side:
I wish 'twas but a Fancy, but no doubt
You'll think it more when you have heard it out.
The Person was a very tall black Man,
Above the common Size almost a Span;
His Face was melted in most piteous sort,
In all things else he was of Royal Port.
But if ill Looks alone Majestick be,
Commend me to that Face for Majesty,
For't had enough, I'll swear, for two or three.
To this tall Man instantly join'd another,
Of just his Stature, whom he call'd his Brother:
Richly encircled with a numerous Ring,
Which shew'd he wanted nought but th'Name of King.
Some time they silent stood, till all were gone,
When tallest bid his Brother to go on,
Which thus he did.—
Above the common Size almost a Span;
His Face was melted in most piteous sort,
In all things else he was of Royal Port.
But if ill Looks alone Majestick be,
Commend me to that Face for Majesty,
For't had enough, I'll swear, for two or three.
To this tall Man instantly join'd another,
Of just his Stature, whom he call'd his Brother:
Richly encircled with a numerous Ring,
Which shew'd he wanted nought but th'Name of King.
Some time they silent stood, till all were gone,
When tallest bid his Brother to go on,
Which thus he did.—
I shall, Great Sir, my last Discourse retrieve,
I pray you like Attention to it give:
Your Case peculiar is, peculiar too
Must be your Care, or you'll your self undo.
For humble Stations, Industry or Wit,
A second Way may find, if first don't hit:
But he that's mounted on a Sov'reign Throne,
Ne'er had nor can have other ways than one
To curb the saucy Vulgar, and pull down
Their Cobweb Rights that circumscribe the Crown;
Take off their Shackles, let the Bumkins know,
No other Almighty is than you below.
You spoil your Game, Sir, while you do thus dally,
Who follows him that stands on shall I, shall I?
You cow the Bold, and keen the Coward's Heart,
Whilst you divided act the doubtful Part.
I pray you like Attention to it give:
Your Case peculiar is, peculiar too
Must be your Care, or you'll your self undo.
For humble Stations, Industry or Wit,
A second Way may find, if first don't hit:
But he that's mounted on a Sov'reign Throne,
Ne'er had nor can have other ways than one
To curb the saucy Vulgar, and pull down
Their Cobweb Rights that circumscribe the Crown;
Take off their Shackles, let the Bumkins know,
No other Almighty is than you below.
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Who follows him that stands on shall I, shall I?
You cow the Bold, and keen the Coward's Heart,
Whilst you divided act the doubtful Part.
Had you when this damn'd City flam'd but run,
And cut their cursed Throats, your Work you'd done:
Their Blood you shou'd have made the Fire meet,
With Bodies fed the Flames in ev'ry Street.
To do and undo sorts well sorry things,
But is beneath the Majesty of Kings.
Cæsar, or nothing's writ on all they do,
True Monarchs know no Medium 'tween these two.
What is't you stick at, Sir, would you retreat?
You're now too far engag'd, and must them beat,
Or beaten be; rid or be ridden now:
He never back must look who holds the Plough.
May be you would not Promise break, or Oath;
Pish! all the World does know you can do both.
With great Advice but t'other day you said
By Parliaments and Councils you'd be led:
To-day you think it fit to let us know,
(What e'er you said) you ne'er intended so.
Fools to their Word, but Princes great like you,
To nought but their Intentions must be true.
And cut their cursed Throats, your Work you'd done:
Their Blood you shou'd have made the Fire meet,
With Bodies fed the Flames in ev'ry Street.
To do and undo sorts well sorry things,
But is beneath the Majesty of Kings.
Cæsar, or nothing's writ on all they do,
True Monarchs know no Medium 'tween these two.
What is't you stick at, Sir, would you retreat?
You're now too far engag'd, and must them beat,
Or beaten be; rid or be ridden now:
He never back must look who holds the Plough.
May be you would not Promise break, or Oath;
Pish! all the World does know you can do both.
With great Advice but t'other day you said
By Parliaments and Councils you'd be led:
To-day you think it fit to let us know,
(What e'er you said) you ne'er intended so.
Fools to their Word, but Princes great like you,
To nought but their Intentions must be true.
What is't the Laws you tender are to break?
It's known that's but a Scruple, and too weak:
For Laws are nothing, but the Ties and Bands
Are made to shackle up your Subjects Hands.
Your silly Clergy, Sir, tho meer Jackdaws,
Yet they do preach you up above all Laws,
That Laws 'bove Subjects are, but that the King
(God bless him) is 'bove Laws and ev'ry thing;
And teach from sacred Leaves, not any thing
Of Law or Promise can confine a King.
It's known that's but a Scruple, and too weak:
For Laws are nothing, but the Ties and Bands
Are made to shackle up your Subjects Hands.
Your silly Clergy, Sir, tho meer Jackdaws,
Yet they do preach you up above all Laws,
That Laws 'bove Subjects are, but that the King
(God bless him) is 'bove Laws and ev'ry thing;
And teach from sacred Leaves, not any thing
Of Law or Promise can confine a King.
Or for meet Tools is't you so doubtful are?
If this be it, I'll ease you of that Care;
Damn'd Villains of intrinsick Worth I have,
And more obedient than a Turkish Slave:
If you but bid 'em thrust their bloody Knives
In Fathers Throats, in Childrens, or in Wives;
In any but their own, they'll ready do't,
And lay them sprawling at your sacred Foot.
I have my Teagues and Tories at my beck,
Will wring their Necks off like a Chicken's Neck:
Try'd Rogues that never shall so much as start,
To tear from Mother's Womb the Infant's Heart.
First rape, then rip her up in half an hour;
Two Lusts they'll satiate, do but give them Power.
Faint Rogues will melt and have their Qualms of Fears
At Father's Groans, or at a Mother's Tears:
But mine are Monsters fit for any Prince,
Not plagu'd with Conscience, no nor pain'd with Sense.
The Flames of Hell, Horrour of endless Pain,
(Those Clergy-Cheats to propagate their Gain)
They ridicule, and scorn to lend an ear;
Let Knaves for Profit preach, and Fools go hear
The Tales of future Bliss, not worth a Rush;
One Bird in hand with them's worth two i'th'Bush.
Others now serve you but for constant Pay;
My Hounds will hunt, and live upon their Prey.
A Virgin's Haunch, or well-bak'd Lady's Breast,
To them is better than a Ven'son Feast:
Babes Pettitoes cut large in Arms and Legs,
They far prefer 'fore Pettitoes of Pigs:
Poor span-long Infants that like Carps are stew'd
In their own Blood, their Irish Chaps have chew'd;
And Fathers Cauls have Candles made to light
Those damn'd inhuman Banquets of the Night.
Whate'er you'd have, whate'er your Fancy craves,
But nod, 'tis done by my obedient Slaves.
They know no Scruple, no Commands dispute;
But do't as ready as a Turkish Mute.
If this be it, I'll ease you of that Care;
Damn'd Villains of intrinsick Worth I have,
And more obedient than a Turkish Slave:
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In Fathers Throats, in Childrens, or in Wives;
In any but their own, they'll ready do't,
And lay them sprawling at your sacred Foot.
I have my Teagues and Tories at my beck,
Will wring their Necks off like a Chicken's Neck:
Try'd Rogues that never shall so much as start,
To tear from Mother's Womb the Infant's Heart.
First rape, then rip her up in half an hour;
Two Lusts they'll satiate, do but give them Power.
Faint Rogues will melt and have their Qualms of Fears
At Father's Groans, or at a Mother's Tears:
But mine are Monsters fit for any Prince,
Not plagu'd with Conscience, no nor pain'd with Sense.
The Flames of Hell, Horrour of endless Pain,
(Those Clergy-Cheats to propagate their Gain)
They ridicule, and scorn to lend an ear;
Let Knaves for Profit preach, and Fools go hear
The Tales of future Bliss, not worth a Rush;
One Bird in hand with them's worth two i'th'Bush.
Others now serve you but for constant Pay;
My Hounds will hunt, and live upon their Prey.
A Virgin's Haunch, or well-bak'd Lady's Breast,
To them is better than a Ven'son Feast:
Babes Pettitoes cut large in Arms and Legs,
They far prefer 'fore Pettitoes of Pigs:
Poor span-long Infants that like Carps are stew'd
In their own Blood, their Irish Chaps have chew'd;
And Fathers Cauls have Candles made to light
Those damn'd inhuman Banquets of the Night.
Whate'er you'd have, whate'er your Fancy craves,
But nod, 'tis done by my obedient Slaves.
They know no Scruple, no Commands dispute;
But do't as ready as a Turkish Mute.
You see, Sir, where you are; your Royal Date
Grows out if you don't soon support the State.
To shake off Parliaments may be too great,
And put you in too violent a Sweat:
To baffle therefore, but not cast them off;
To hold them still, but hold them but in scoff,
Must be your Work; for we are weaken'd so,
That we must drive the Nail that first will go:
And this too we must do with gentle Hand,
That tho they see, they may not understand.
Grows out if you don't soon support the State.
To shake off Parliaments may be too great,
And put you in too violent a Sweat:
178
To hold them still, but hold them but in scoff,
Must be your Work; for we are weaken'd so,
That we must drive the Nail that first will go:
And this too we must do with gentle Hand,
That tho they see, they may not understand.
When January comes, Cold and ill Way
Will call it Love to put 'em off till May.
In May some odd Intelligence comes newly,
Won't suffer you to hold them until July:
And July's so with Heat and Sickness vext,
Pity prorogues them to November next;
And time's ill manag'd if before that day
We able be'nt to throw all Masks away.
This far exceeds Dissolvings, in my mind,
And gives to our Designs a better Blind.
For if two Parliaments you slight, I doubt
The Rogues will then begin to scent us out.
For watchful with erected Looks, the Herd
Stands list'ning now, concerned and afeard.
As Covy half o'erspread, half scap'd the Net,
Are ten times harder than at first to set:
So People slipt out of the Noose or Train,
Are much more harder to be caught again.
With Prorogation therefore short and soft,
They must be treated: these repeated oft,
Will chafe them so, that either mad with Rage,
They'll bring the old Rebellion on the Stage;
Or sullen sit, and sleer on all you do,
(The far more dangerous Humour of the two)
Their dogged Nature now its Venom vents,
In chusing damn'd and plaguy Parliaments.
Poor Fools! their Rage does far out-run their Wit,
For you must ne'er intend that they shall sit:
But mock their Choice, and mock their Sessions too,
No other way we have our Work to do.
One Plot is better than ten Parliaments;
They give but Taxes, this shou'd give their Rents.
A thousand of the richest in we'll skrew
Into a Plot they never heard or knew.
If three hundred thousand Pounds a year would do,
I'll three times three by this Plot help you to.
Will call it Love to put 'em off till May.
In May some odd Intelligence comes newly,
Won't suffer you to hold them until July:
And July's so with Heat and Sickness vext,
Pity prorogues them to November next;
And time's ill manag'd if before that day
We able be'nt to throw all Masks away.
This far exceeds Dissolvings, in my mind,
And gives to our Designs a better Blind.
For if two Parliaments you slight, I doubt
The Rogues will then begin to scent us out.
For watchful with erected Looks, the Herd
Stands list'ning now, concerned and afeard.
As Covy half o'erspread, half scap'd the Net,
Are ten times harder than at first to set:
So People slipt out of the Noose or Train,
Are much more harder to be caught again.
With Prorogation therefore short and soft,
They must be treated: these repeated oft,
Will chafe them so, that either mad with Rage,
They'll bring the old Rebellion on the Stage;
Or sullen sit, and sleer on all you do,
(The far more dangerous Humour of the two)
Their dogged Nature now its Venom vents,
In chusing damn'd and plaguy Parliaments.
Poor Fools! their Rage does far out-run their Wit,
For you must ne'er intend that they shall sit:
But mock their Choice, and mock their Sessions too,
No other way we have our Work to do.
One Plot is better than ten Parliaments;
They give but Taxes, this shou'd give their Rents.
179
Into a Plot they never heard or knew.
If three hundred thousand Pounds a year would do,
I'll three times three by this Plot help you to.
This Sir's the bus'ness, how to get fit Stuff
Is all the Care, and I have Rogues enough;
Do you but Judges get, I'll Juries find,
And Witnesses according to your Mind.
They're such poor Rogues, 'twill do you good to hear
How daring, bold, and bravely they will swear;
They shan't, like Bedlow, Dugdale, Oates, and such,
Consider first, for fear they speak too much;
Nor let their Conscience maim their Evidence,
Thro tender Fear of hurting Innocence:
Nor do I care for a Fanatick Noose,
All shall Fanaticks be have ought to lose;
Judg, Jury, Witnesses, we'll all ensure,
And Devil's in't if all be not secure.
Yet shou'd this miss, don't you discourag'd be;
To form a new, leave to my Priests and me.
Like Pins, one Plot shall drive another out,
Till we have brought our only Plot about.
First work to save your Friends, that Point well done,
(Like Shirts) more Plots we've to our Backs than one.
They fain would foil your Plots, and fill your Ears
With Regicide Intents, to raise your Fears.
This fruitless Gun, that Dagger stabs your Belly,
When you know all better than they can tell ye.
Is all the Care, and I have Rogues enough;
Do you but Judges get, I'll Juries find,
And Witnesses according to your Mind.
They're such poor Rogues, 'twill do you good to hear
How daring, bold, and bravely they will swear;
They shan't, like Bedlow, Dugdale, Oates, and such,
Consider first, for fear they speak too much;
Nor let their Conscience maim their Evidence,
Thro tender Fear of hurting Innocence:
Nor do I care for a Fanatick Noose,
All shall Fanaticks be have ought to lose;
Judg, Jury, Witnesses, we'll all ensure,
And Devil's in't if all be not secure.
Yet shou'd this miss, don't you discourag'd be;
To form a new, leave to my Priests and me.
Like Pins, one Plot shall drive another out,
Till we have brought our only Plot about.
First work to save your Friends, that Point well done,
(Like Shirts) more Plots we've to our Backs than one.
They fain would foil your Plots, and fill your Ears
With Regicide Intents, to raise your Fears.
This fruitless Gun, that Dagger stabs your Belly,
When you know all better than they can tell ye.
Go on, Sir, never fear the heedless Herd,
They have no Courage but when you're afeard:
On me lay all the fault of Crown and Age,
I'll safely skreen you from the Peoples Rage:
And when ill accident a Plot does spoil;
Me they'll call Rogue, but you Most Gracious stile:
For Loyalty awes them in ev'ry thing;
Tho you destroy them, yet God save the King.
Tho you them stab, and I but hold the Knife,
Yet still they'll pray for's Majesty's long Life.
Now I'll step in, mine shall be the next Fate;
But I'll do something shall deserve their Hate.
They have no Courage but when you're afeard:
On me lay all the fault of Crown and Age,
I'll safely skreen you from the Peoples Rage:
And when ill accident a Plot does spoil;
Me they'll call Rogue, but you Most Gracious stile:
For Loyalty awes them in ev'ry thing;
Tho you destroy them, yet God save the King.
Tho you them stab, and I but hold the Knife,
Yet still they'll pray for's Majesty's long Life.
180
But I'll do something shall deserve their Hate.
Thus, greatest Sir, you're greatest Prince alive,
If Plot according to its Prospect thrive;
And thrive it shall, if you'll but do your part,
And from proposed Methods never start.
For Plots like Clockwork are, one Pin pull'd out,
Does all its Order and its Beauty rout.
Steddy your Hand, keep Parliaments at bay,
Not on, nor off, nor working, nor at play:
Clip ev'ry Tongue you find does hang too long,
It's taking Wind makes ev'ry thing scent strong.
If Plot according to its Prospect thrive;
And thrive it shall, if you'll but do your part,
And from proposed Methods never start.
For Plots like Clockwork are, one Pin pull'd out,
Does all its Order and its Beauty rout.
Steddy your Hand, keep Parliaments at bay,
Not on, nor off, nor working, nor at play:
Clip ev'ry Tongue you find does hang too long,
It's taking Wind makes ev'ry thing scent strong.
This if you do, ill Fortune I'll defy,
All other things pray leave to Fate and I.
And now I'll dive again beneath the Show,
And act my Puppets will by Art below.
All other things pray leave to Fate and I.
And now I'll dive again beneath the Show,
And act my Puppets will by Art below.
He being gone, in steps a certain Lord,
Who had seen all, and heard too ev'ry Word:
Great Sir, said he, Who can tell what to say?
If you by Popish Counsels mean to sway,
Curs'd be that Counsel, and the Men that do
Persuade you to your Ruin, and ours too!
A Thousand, Sir, Ten Thousand let your Brother
In's next Book write, if he dare write another.
Ten Gentry envies now what one has got,
For God's sake write us all in the next Plot;
All but your Papists, Sir, all but a few
(O shame to name it!) of our Clergy Crew.
Bate but these two, and let them take the Pole,
They'll hardly get another English Soul.
For one's damn'd Envy, and the other's Pride,
Have reconcil'd all England else beside.
Higher Huffs than his could ne'er this Nation awe,
On our side stand the People and the Law.
For don't mistake, Sir, it's by Law alone
Your Right's derived to our English Throne.
Set that aside, and make the Law a Sham;
No Sov'reign you, nor I no Subject am.
For self-same Laws give you your Dignity,
Give me my Life, my Fortune, Liberty.
Who had seen all, and heard too ev'ry Word:
Great Sir, said he, Who can tell what to say?
If you by Popish Counsels mean to sway,
Curs'd be that Counsel, and the Men that do
Persuade you to your Ruin, and ours too!
A Thousand, Sir, Ten Thousand let your Brother
In's next Book write, if he dare write another.
Ten Gentry envies now what one has got,
For God's sake write us all in the next Plot;
All but your Papists, Sir, all but a few
(O shame to name it!) of our Clergy Crew.
Bate but these two, and let them take the Pole,
They'll hardly get another English Soul.
For one's damn'd Envy, and the other's Pride,
Have reconcil'd all England else beside.
Higher Huffs than his could ne'er this Nation awe,
On our side stand the People and the Law.
For don't mistake, Sir, it's by Law alone
Your Right's derived to our English Throne.
Set that aside, and make the Law a Sham;
No Sov'reign you, nor I no Subject am.
181
Give me my Life, my Fortune, Liberty.
Pardon if, Sir, less decent this is said,
Than doth become a Member to his Head.
For this sound Doctrine is, tho cully Brother
And Clergy Wights would fain bring up another.
Within the Circle of the Law, great Sir,
I stand, but out of it will never stir:
If to be King you'll be content, I will
Pay you Allegiance and Obedience still.
The Peoples Right and their brave English Laws
Do make the strongest Side and justest Cause.
'Tis not your keeping us from Parliaments
Can further or advantage your Intents.
For greater are the Chusers than the Choice,
England's Freeholders have a mighty Voice.
Those we'll unite, and those associate;
And if we can't defend our Lives and State,
We'll fairly fall, and Freemen to our Graves
We'll rather go by far, than to live Slaves.
Our Ancestors shan't curse us in their Tombs,
(Nor shall our Children in their Mothers Wombs)
They left us free, and We ours free will leave,
Or Death our Hopes and us shall both deceive.
Than doth become a Member to his Head.
For this sound Doctrine is, tho cully Brother
And Clergy Wights would fain bring up another.
Within the Circle of the Law, great Sir,
I stand, but out of it will never stir:
If to be King you'll be content, I will
Pay you Allegiance and Obedience still.
The Peoples Right and their brave English Laws
Do make the strongest Side and justest Cause.
'Tis not your keeping us from Parliaments
Can further or advantage your Intents.
For greater are the Chusers than the Choice,
England's Freeholders have a mighty Voice.
Those we'll unite, and those associate;
And if we can't defend our Lives and State,
We'll fairly fall, and Freemen to our Graves
We'll rather go by far, than to live Slaves.
Our Ancestors shan't curse us in their Tombs,
(Nor shall our Children in their Mothers Wombs)
They left us free, and We ours free will leave,
Or Death our Hopes and us shall both deceive.
Thus said, with threatning Looks he went away,
And I trudg'd too, as quite afraid to stay:
But as I went, I met with honest Nelly,
And when I more do hear, I more will tell ye.
And I trudg'd too, as quite afraid to stay:
But as I went, I met with honest Nelly,
And when I more do hear, I more will tell ye.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |