The medall a satyre against sedition / by the authour of Absalom and Achitophel.
         Dryden, John, 1631-1700.
      
       
         
           1682
        
      
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             The medall a satyre against sedition / by the authour of Absalom and Achitophel.
             Dryden, John, 1631-1700.
          
           [8], 12 [i.e. 10] p.
           
             [s.n.],
             Edinburgh :
             1682.
          
           
             A satire in verse on Shaftesbury.
             Reproduction of original in the Cambridge University Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley Cooper, -- Earl of, 1621-1683 -- Anecdotes
        
      
    
     
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           THE
           MEDALL
           .
           A
           SATYRE
           AGAINST
           SEDITION
           .
        
         
           By
           the
           Authour
           of
           Absalom
           and
           Achitophel
           .
        
         
           Per
           Graiùm
           
             populos
             ,
             mediaeque
             per
          
           Elidis
           
             Vrbem
             Ibat
             ovans
          
           ;
           Divumque
           
             sibi
             poscebat
             Honores
          
           .
        
         
           EDINBVRGH
           ,
           Re-Printed
           Anno
           DOM.
           1682
           ;
        
      
       
         
         
         
           EPISTLE
           To
           the
           WHIGS
           .
        
         
           FOR
           to
           whom
           can
           I
           dedicate
           this
           Poem
           ,
           with
           so
           much
           justice
           as
           to
           you
           ?
           'T
           is
           the
           representation
           of
           your
           own
           Heroe
           :
           't
           is
           the
           Picture
           drawen
           at
           length
           ,
           which
           you
           admire
           and
           prize
           so
           much
           in
           little
           .
           None
           of
           your
           Ornaments
           are
           wanting
           ;
           neither
           the
           Landscap
           of
           the
           Tower
           ,
           nor
           the
           Rising
           Sun
           ;
           nor
           the
           
             Anno
             Domini
          
           of
           your
           New
           Soveraign's
           Goronation
           .
           This
           must
           needs
           be
           a
           gratefull
           undertaking
           to
           your
           whole
           Party
           :
           especially
           to
           those
           who
           have
           not
           been
           so
           happy
           as
           to
           purchase
           the
           Original
           .
           I
           hear
           the
           Graver
           has
           made
           a
           good
           Market
           of
           it
           :
           all
           his
           Kings
           are
           bought
           up
           already
           ;
           or
           the
           value
           of
           the
           remainder
           so
           inhanc'd
           ,
           that
           many
           a
           poor
           Polander
           who
           would
           be
           glad
           to
           worship
           the
           Image
           ,
           is
           not
           able
           to
           go
           to
           the
           cost
           of
           him
           :
           But
           must
           be
           content
           to
           see
           him
           here
           .
           I
           must
           confess
           I
           am
           no
           great
           Artist
           ;
           but
           Sign-post
           painting
           will
           serve
           the
           turn
           to
           remember
           a
           Friend
           by
           ;
           especially
           when
           better
           is
           not
           to
           be
           had
           .
           Yet
           for
           your
           comfort
           the
           lineaments
           are
           true
           :
           and
           though
           he
           sate
           not
           five
           times
           to
           me
           ,
           as
           he
           did
           to
           B.
           yet
           I
           have
           consulted
           History
           ;
           as
           Italian
           Painters
           do
           ,
           when
           they
           wou'd
           draw
           a
           Nero
           or
           a
           Caligula
           ;
           though
           they
           have
           not
           seen
           the
           Man
           ;
           they
           can
           help
           their
           Imagination
           by
           a
           Statue
           of
           him
           ,
           and
           find
           out
           the
           Colouring
           from
           S●●●onius
           and
           Tacitus
           .
           Truth
           is
           ,
           you
           might
           have
           spar'd
           one
           side
           of
           your
           Medall
           :
           the
           Head
           wou'd
           be
           seen
           to
           more
           advantage
           ,
           if
           it
           were
           plac'd
           on
           a
           Spike
           of
           the
           Tower
           ;
           a
           little
           nearer
           to
           the
           Sun.
           
           Which
           wou'd
           then
           break
           out
           to
           better
           purpose
           .
           You
           tell
           us
           in
           your
           Preface
           to
           the
           
             No-protestant
             Plot
          
           ,
           that
           you
           shall
           be
           forc'd
           hereafter
           to
           leave
           off
           your
           Modestie
           :
           I
           suppose
           you
           mean
           that
           little
           which
           is
           left
           you
           :
           for
           it
           was
           morn
           to
           rags
           when
           you
           put
           out
           this
           Medall
           .
           Never
           was
           there
           practis'd
           such
           a
           piece
           of
           notorious
           Impudence
           in
           the
           face
           of
           an
           Establish'd
           Government
           .
           I
           believe
           ,
           when
           he
           is
           dead
           ,
           you
           will
           wear
           him
           in
           Thumb-Rings
           ,
           as
           the
           Turks
           did
           Scanderbeg
           ;
           as
           if
           there
           were
           vertue
           in
           his
           Bones
           to
           preserve
           you
           against
           Monarchie
           .
           Yet
           all
           this
           while
           you
           pretend
           not
           only
           zeal
           for
           the
           Publick
           good
           ;
           but
           a
           due
           veneration
           for
           the
           person
           of
           the
           King.
           But
           all
           men
           who
           can
           see
           an
           inch
           before
           them
           ,
           may
           easily
           detect
           those
           gross
           fallacies
           .
           That
           it
           is
           necessarie
           for
           men
           in
           your
           circumstances
           to
           pretend
           both
           ,
           is
           granted
           you
           :
           for
           without
           them
           there
           could
           be
           no
           ground
           to
           raise
           a
           Faction
           .
           But
           I
           would
           ask
           you
           one
           civil
           question
           ,
           what
           right
           has
           any
           man
           among
           you
           ,
           or
           any
           Association
           of
           men
           ,
           (
           to
           come
           nearer
           to
           you
           )
           who
           out
           of
           Parliament
           ,
           cannot
           be
           consider'd
           in
           a
           publick
           Capacity
           ,
           to
           meet
           ,
           as
           you
           daily
           doe
           ,
           in
           Factious
           Clubs
           ,
           to
           vilify
           the
           Government
           in
           your
           Discourses
           ,
           and
           to
           libel
           it
           in
           all
           your
           Writings
           ?
           who
           made
           you
           Judges
           in
           Israel
           ?
           or
           how
           is
           it
           consistent
           with
           your
           Zeal
           of
           the
           publick
           welfare
           ,
           to
           promote
           Sedition
           ?
           Does
           your
           definition
           of
           loyal
           ,
           which
           is
           to
           serve
           the
           King
           according
           to
           the
           Laws
           ,
           allow
           you
           the
           licence
           of
           traducing
           the
           Executive
           Power
           ,
           with
           which
           you
           own
           he
           is
           invested
           ?
           You
           complain
           that
           his
           Majestie
           has
           lost
           the
           love
           and
           confidence
           of
           his
           People
           :
           and
           by
           your
           very
           urging
           it
           ,
           you
           endeavour
           what
           ,
           in
           you
           lies
           ,
           to
           make
           him
           lose
           them
           .
           All
           good
           Subjects
           abhor
           the
           thought
           of
           Arbitrary
           Power
           ,
           whether
           it
           be
           in
           one
           or
           many
           :
           if
           you
           were
           the
           Patriots
           you
           would
           seem
           ,
           you
           would
           not
           at
           this
           rate
           incense
           the
           Multitude
           to
           assume
           it
           :
           for
           no
           sober
           man
           can
           fear
           it
           ,
           either
           from
           the
           King's
           Disposition
           ,
           or
           his
           Practice
           :
           or
           even
           ,
           where
           you
           would
           odiously
           lay
           it
           ,
           from
           his
           Ministers
           .
           Give
           us
           leave
           to
           enjoy
           the
           Government
           and
           the
           benefit
           of
           Laws
           under
           which
           we
           were
           born
           ,
           and
           which
           we
           desire
           to
           transmit
           to
           our
           Posterity
           .
           You
           are
           not
           the
           Trustees
           of
           the
           publick
           Liberty
           :
           and
           if
           you
           have
           not
           right
           to
           petition
           in
           a
           Crowd
           ,
           much
           less
           have
           you
           to
           intermeddle
           in
           the
           management
           of
           Affairs
           :
           
           or
           to
           arraign
           what
           you
           do
           not
           like
           :
           which
           in
           effect
           is
           every
           thing
           that
           is
           done
           by
           the
           King
           and
           Council
           .
           Can
           you
           imagine
           that
           any
           reasonable
           man
           will
           believe
           you
           respect
           the
           person
           of
           his
           Majesty
           ,
           when
           't
           is
           apparent
           that
           your
           Seditious
           Pamphlets
           are
           stuff'd
           with
           particular
           Reflexions
           on
           him
           ?
           If
           you
           have
           the
           confidence
           to
           deny
           this
           ,
           't
           is
           easy
           to
           be
           evinc'd
           from
           a
           thousand
           Passages
           ,
           which
           I
           only
           forbear
           to
           quote
           ,
           because
           I
           desire
           they
           should
           die
           and
           be
           forgotten
           .
           I
           bave
           perus'd
           many
           of
           your
           Papers
           :
           and
           to
           show
           you
           that
           I
           have
           ,
           the
           third
           part
           of
           your
           
             No-ptotestant
             Plot
          
           is
           much
           of
           it
           stolen
           ,
           from
           your
           dead
           Author's
           Pamphlet
           call'd
           ,
           the
           
             Growth
             of
             Popery
          
           :
           as
           manifestly
           as
           Milton's
           defence
           of
           the
           English
           People
           ,
           is
           from
           
             Buchanan
             ,
             de
             jure
             regni
             apud
             Scotos
             :
          
           or
           your
           first
           Covenant
           ,
           and
           new
           Association
           ,
           from
           the
           holy
           League
           of
           the
           
             French
             Guisards
          
           .
           Any
           one
           who
           reads
           Davila
           ,
           may
           trace
           your
           Practices
           all
           along
           .
           There
           were
           the
           same
           pretences
           for
           Reformation
           ,
           and
           Loyalty
           ,
           the
           same
           Aspersions
           of
           the
           King
           ,
           and
           the
           same
           grounds
           of
           a
           Rebellion
           .
           I
           know
           not
           whether
           you
           will
           take
           the
           Historian's
           word
           ,
           who
           says
           it
           was
           reported
           ,
           that
           Poltrot
           a
           Hugonot
           ,
           murther'd
           Francis
           Duke
           of
           Guise
           by
           the
           instigations
           of
           
             Theodore
             Beza
          
           :
           or
           that
           it
           was
           a
           Hugonot
           Minister
           ,
           otherwise
           call'd
           a
           
             Presbyterian
             ▪
          
           (
           for
           our
           Church
           abhors
           so
           devilish
           a
           Tenent
           )
           who
           first
           writ
           a
           Treatise
           of
           the
           lawfulness
           of
           deposing
           and
           murthering
           Kings
           ,
           of
           a
           different
           Perswasion
           in
           Religion
           :
           But
           I
           am
           able
           to
           prove
           from
           the
           Doctrine
           of
           Calvin
           ,
           and
           Principles
           of
           Buchanan
           ,
           that
           they
           set
           the
           People
           above
           the
           Magistrate
           :
           which
           if
           I
           mistake
           not
           ,
           is
           your
           own
           Fundamental
           :
           and
           which
           carries
           your
           Loyalty
           no
           further
           than
           your
           likeing
           .
           When
           a
           Vote
           of
           the
           House
           of
           Commons
           goes
           on
           your
           side
           ,
           you
           are
           as
           ready
           to
           observe
           it
           ,
           as
           if
           it
           were
           pass'd
           into
           a
           Law
           :
           But
           when
           you
           are
           pinch'd
           with
           any
           former
           ,
           and
           yet
           unrepealed
           
             Act
             of
             Paliament
          
           ,
           you
           declare
           that
           in
           some
           cases
           ,
           you
           will
           not
           be
           oblig'd
           by
           it
           .
           The
           Passage
           is
           in
           the
           same
           third
           part
           of
           the
           
             No-protestant
             Plot
          
           :
           &
           is
           too
           plain
           to
           be
           denied
           .
           The
           late
           Copy
           of
           your
           intended
           Association
           ,
           you
           neither
           wholly
           justify
           nor
           condemn
           ;
           But
           ,
           as
           the
           Papists
           ,
           when
           they
           are
           unoppos'd
           ,
           fly
           out
           into
           all
           the
           Pageantry's
           of
           Worship
           ;
           but
           in
           times
           of
           War
           ,
           when
           they
           are
           hard
           press'd
           by
           Arguments
           ,
           
           lie
           closs
           intrinch'd
           behind
           the
           
             Council
             of
             Trent
          
           :
           So
           ,
           now
           ,
           when
           your
           Affairs
           are
           in
           a
           low
           condition
           ,
           you
           dare
           not
           pretend
           that
           to
           be
           a
           legal
           Combination
           ,
           but
           whensoever
           you
           are
           afloat
           ,
           I
           doubt
           not
           but
           it
           will
           be
           maintain'd
           and
           justify'd
           to
           purpose
           .
           For
           indeed
           there
           is
           nothing
           to
           defend
           it
           but
           the
           Sword
           :
           't
           is
           the
           proper
           time
           to
           say
           any
           thing
           ,
           when
           men
           have
           all
           things
           in
           their
           power
           .
        
         
           In
           the
           mean
           time
           you
           wou'd
           fain
           be
           nibbling
           at
           a
           parallel
           betwixt
           this
           Association
           ,
           and
           that
           in
           the
           time
           of
           Queen
           Elizabeth
           .
           But
           there
           is
           this
           small
           difference
           betwixt
           them
           ,
           that
           the
           ends
           of
           the
           one
           are
           directly
           opposite
           to
           the
           other
           :
           one
           with
           the
           Queens
           approbation
           ,
           and
           conjunction
           ,
           as
           head
           of
           it
           :
           the
           other
           without
           either
           the
           consent
           ,
           or
           knowledge
           of
           the
           King
           ,
           against
           whose
           Authority
           it
           is
           manifestly
           designed
           .
           Therefore
           you
           do
           well
           to
           have
           recourse
           to
           your
           last
           Evasion
           ,
           that
           it
           was
           contriv'd
           by
           your
           Enemies
           ,
           and
           shuffled
           into
           the
           Papers
           that
           were
           seiz'd
           :
           which
           yet
           you
           see
           the
           Nation
           is
           not
           so
           easy
           to
           believe
           as
           your
           own
           Jury
           ;
           But
           the
           matter
           is
           not
           difficult
           ,
           to
           find
           twelve
           men
           in
           New-gate
           ,
           who
           wou'd
           acquit
           a
           Malefactour
           .
        
         
           I
           have
           one
           onely
           favour
           to
           desire
           of
           you
           at
           parting
           ,
           that
           when
           you
           think
           of
           answering
           this
           Poem
           ,
           you
           wou'd
           employ
           the
           same
           Pens
           against
           it
           ,
           who
           have
           combated
           with
           so
           much
           success
           against
           Absalom
           and
           Achitophel
           :
           for
           then
           you
           may
           assure
           your selves
           of
           a
           clear
           Victory
           ,
           without
           the
           least
           reply
           .
           Raile
           at
           me
           abundantly
           ;
           and
           ,
           not
           to
           break
           a
           Custome
           ,
           doe
           it
           without
           wit
           :
           By
           this
           method
           you
           will
           gain
           a
           considerable
           point
           ,
           which
           is
           wholly
           to
           wave
           the
           answer
           of
           my
           Arguments
           .
           Never
           own
           the
           botome
           of
           your
           Principles
           ,
           for
           fear
           they
           shou'd
           be
           Treason
           .
           Fall
           severly
           on
           the
           miscarriages
           of
           Government
           for
           if
           scandal
           be
           not
           allow'd
           ,
           you
           are
           no
           freeborn
           subjects
           .
           If
           God
           has
           not
           bless'd
           you
           with
           the
           Talent
           of
           Rhiming
           ,
           make
           use
           of
           my
           poor
           Stock
           and
           welcom
           :
           let
           your
           Verses
           run
           upon
           my
           feet
           :
           and
           for
           the
           utmost
           refuge
           of
           notorious
           Block-heads
           ,
           reduc'd
           to
           the
           last
           extremity
           of
           sense
           ,
           turn
           my
           own
           lines
           upon
           me
           ,
           and
           in
           utter
           despaire
           of
           your
           own
           Satyre
           ,
           make
           me
           Satyrize
           my self
           .
           Some
           of
           you
           have
           been
           driven
           to
           this
           Bay
           alreadie
           ;
           But
           above
           all
           the
           rest
           commend
           me
           to
           the
           Nonconformist
           Parson
           ,
           who
           writ
           the
           
             VVhip
             and
             Key
          
           .
           I
           am
           afraid
           it
           is
           
           not
           read
           so
           much
           as
           the
           Piece
           deserves
           because
           the
           Bookseller
           is
           every
           week
           crying
           help
           at
           the
           end
           of
           his
           Gazette
           ,
           to
           get
           it
           off
           .
           You
           see
           I
           am
           charitable
           enough
           to
           doe
           him
           a
           kindness
           ,
           that
           it
           may
           be
           publish'd
           as
           well
           as
           printed
           ;
           and
           that
           so
           much
           skill
           in
           Hebrew
           Derivations
           ,
           ma
           not
           lie
           for
           wast-paper
           in
           the
           Shop
           .
           Yet
           I
           half
           suspect
           he
           went
           no
           farther
           for
           his
           learning
           ,
           than
           the
           Index
           of
           Hebrew
           Names
           and
           Etymologies
           ,
           which
           is
           printed
           at
           the
           end
           of
           some
           English
           Bibles
           .
           If
           Achitophel
           signify
           the
           Brother
           of
           a
           Fool
           ,
           the
           Author
           of
           that
           Poem
           will
           pass
           with
           his
           Readers
           for
           the
           next
           of
           kin
           ;
           perhaps
           '
           t
           is
           the
           Relation
           that
           makes
           the
           kindness
           .
           Whatever
           the
           Verses
           are
           ;
           buy
           'em
           up
           I
           beseech
           you
           out
           of
           pity
           ;
           for
           I
           hear
           the
           Conventicle
           is
           shut
           up
           ,
           and
           the
           Brother
           of
           Achitophel
           out
           of
           service
           .
        
         
           Now
           Footmen
           ,
           you
           know
           ,
           have
           the
           generositie
           to
           make
           a
           Purse
           ,
           for
           a
           member
           of
           their
           Society
           ,
           who
           has
           had
           his
           Livery
           pull'd
           over
           his
           Ears
           :
           and
           even
           Protestant
           Socks
           are
           bought
           up
           among
           you
           ,
           out
           of
           veneration
           to
           the
           name
           .
           A
           Dissenter
           in
           Poetry
           from
           Sense
           and
           English
           ,
           will
           make
           as
           good
           a
           Protestant
           Rhymer
           ,
           as
           a
           Dissenter
           from
           the
           Church
           of
           England
           a
           Protestant
           Parson
           .
           Besides
           if
           you
           encourage
           ayoung
           Beginner
           ,
           who
           knows
           but
           he
           may
           elevate
           his
           stilea
           little
           ,
           above
           the
           vulgar
           Epithets
           of
           prophane
           ,
           and
           sawcy
           Jack
           ,
           and
           Atheistick
           Scribler
           ,
           with
           which
           he
           treats
           me
           ,
           when
           the
           fit
           of
           Enthusiam
           is
           strong
           upon
           him
           :
           by
           which
           well-mannerd
           and
           charitable
           Expressions
           ,
           I
           was
           certain
           of
           his
           Sect
           ,
           before
           I
           knew
           his
           name
           .
           What
           wou'd
           you
           have
           more
           of
           a
           man
           ?
           he
           has
           damn'd
           me
           in
           your
           Cause
           from
           Genesis
           to
           the
           Revelations
           :
           And
           has
           half
           the
           Texts
           of
           both
           the
           Testaments
           against
           me
           ,
           if
           you
           will
           be
           so
           civil
           to
           your selves
           as
           to
           take
           him
           for
           your
           interpreter
           ;
           and
           not
           to
           take
           them
           for
           Irish
           Witnesses
           .
           After
           all
           ,
           perhaps
           you
           will
           tell
           me
           ,
           that
           you
           retain'd
           him
           only
           for
           the
           opening
           of
           your
           Cause
           ,
           and
           that
           your
           main
           Lawyer
           is
           yet
           behind
           .
           Now
           if
           it
           so
           happen
           he
           meet
           with
           no
           more
           reply
           than
           his
           Predecessours
           ,
           you
           may
           either
           conclude
           ,
           that
           I
           trust
           to
           the
           goodness
           of
           my
           Cause
           ,
           or
           fear
           my
           Adversary
           or
           disdain
           him
           ,
           or
           what
           you
           please
           ,
           for
           the
           short
           on
           't
           is
           ,
           't
           is
           indifferent
           to
           your
           humble
           servant
           ,
           whatever
           your
           Party
           says
           or
           thinks
           of
           him
           .
        
      
       
         
         
           UPON
           THE
           
             AUTHOUR
             of
             the
             following
             POEM
          
        
         
           ONCE
           more
           our
           awfull
           Poet
           Arms
           ,
           t'
           engage
        
         
           The
           threatning
           Hydra-Faction
           of
           the
           Age
           :
        
         
           Once
           more
           prepares
           his
           dreadful
           Pen
           to
           wield
           ,
        
         
           And
           ev'ry
           Muse
           attends
           him
           to
           the
           Field
           :
        
         
           
             By
             Art
          
           and
           Nature
           for
           this
           Task
           design'd
           ,
        
         
           Yet
           modestly
           the
           Fight
           He
           long
           declin'd
           ;
        
         
           Forbore
           the
           Torrent
           of
           his
           Verse
           to
           pour
           ,
        
         
           Nor
           loos'd
           his
           Satyre
           till
           the
           needful
           Hour
           :
        
         
           His
           Sov'raigns
           Right
           by
           Patience
           half
           betray'd
           ,
        
         
           VVak'd
           his
           Avenging
           Genius
           to
           it's
           Aid
           .
        
         
           Blest
           Muse
           ,
           whose
           VVit
           with
           such
           a
           Cause
           was
           Crown'd
           ,
        
         
           And
           blest
           the
           Cause
           that
           such
           a
           Champion
           found
           .
        
         
           VVith
           chosen
           Verse
           upon
           the
           Foe
           he
           falls
           ,
        
         
           And
           black
           Sedition
           in
           each
           Quarter
           galls
           ;
        
         
           Yet
           ,
           like
           a
           Prince
           with
           Subjects
           forc't
           t'
           engage
           ,
        
         
           Secure
           of
           Conquest
           He
           rebates
           his
           Rage
           :
        
         
           His
           Fury
           not
           without
           Distinction
           sheds
           .
        
         
           Hurls
           mortal
           Bolts
           but
           on
           devoted
           Heads
           :
        
         
           To
           less
           infected
           Members
           gentle
           found
           ,
        
         
           Or
           spares
           or
           else
           pours
           Balm
           into
           the
           VVound
           .
        
         
           Such
           gen'rous
           Grace
           th'
           ingrateful
           Tribe
           abuse
           ,
        
         
           And
           trespass
           on
           the
           Mercy
           of
           his
           Muse
           ;
        
         
           Their
           wretched
           dogrell
           Rhymers
           forth
           they
           bring
        
         
           To
           Snarl
           and
           Bark
           against
           the
           Poet's
           King
           :
        
         
           A
           Crew
           ,
           that
           scandalize
           the
           Nation
           more
        
         
           Than
           all
           their
           Treason-canting
           Priests
           before
           !
        
         
           On
           these
           He
           scarce
           vouchsafes
           a
           scornful
           smile
           ,
        
         
           But
           on
           their
           Pow'rful
           Patrons
           turns
           his
           Stile
           .
        
         
           A
           Stile
           so
           keen
           ▪
           as
           ev'n
           from
           Faction
           draws
        
         
           The
           Vital
           Poyson
           ,
           stabs
           to
           th'
           Heart
           their
           Cause
           .
        
         
           Take
           then
           ,
           great
           Bard
           ,
           what
           Tribute
           we
           can
           raise
           :
        
         
           Accept
           our
           Thanks
           ,
           for
           you
           transcend
           our
           Praise
           .
        
      
       
         
         
           
             To
             the
             Unknown
             Authour
             of
             the
             following
             Poem
             ,
             and
             that
             of
          
           Absalom
           and
           Achitophel
           .
        
         
           
             THUS
             pious
             ignorance
             ,
             with
             dubious
             praise
             ,
          
           
             Altars
             of
             old
             to
             Gods
             unknown
             did
             raise
             ;
          
           
             They
             knew
             not
             the
             lov'd
             Deity
             ,
             they
             knew
          
           
             Divine
             effects
             a
             cause
             Divine
             did
             shew
             ;
          
           
             Nor
             can
             we
             doubt
             ,
             when
             such
             these
             Numbers
             are
             ,
          
           
             Such
             is
             their
             cause
             ,
             tho
             the
             worst
             Muse
             shall
             dare
          
           
             Their
             sacred
             worth
             in
             humble
             Verse
             declare
             .
          
        
         
           
             As
             gentle
             Thames
             charm'd
             with
             thy
             tuneful
             Song
          
           
             Glides
             in
             a
             peaceful
             Majesty
             along
             ,
          
           
             No
             rebell
             Stone
             ,
             no
             lofty
             Bank
             does
             brave
          
           
             The
             easie
             passage
             of
             his
             silent
             wave
             ,
          
           
             So
             sacred
             Poet
             ,
             so
             thy
             Numbers
             flow
             ,
          
           
             Sinewy
             ,
             yet
             mild
             as
             happy
             Lovers
             woe
             ;
          
           
             Strong
             ,
             yet
             harmonious
             too
             as
             Planets
             move
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             soft
             as
             Down
             upon
             the
             Wings
             of
             Love.
          
           
             How
             sweet
             do's
             Vertue
             in
             your
             dress
             appear
             ,
          
           
             How
             much
             more
             charming
             ,
             when
             much
             less
             severe
          
           
             Whilst
             you
             our
             senses
             harmlesly
             beguile
             ,
          
           
             With
             all
             th'
             allurements
             of
             your
             happy
             Stile
             ,
          
           
             Y'
             insinuate
             Loyalty
             with
             kind
             deceit
             ,
          
           
             And
             into
             sence
             th'
             unthinking
             Many
             cheat
             :
          
           
             So
             the
             sweet
             Trhacian
             with
             his
             charming
             lyre
          
           
             Into
             rude
             Nature
             virtue
             did
             inspire
             ,
          
           
             So
             he
             the
             savage
             herd
             to
             reason
             drew
             ,
          
           
             Yet
             scarce
             so
             sweet
             ,
             so
             charmingly
             as
             you
             ,
          
           
             O
             that
             you
             would
             with
             some
             such
             powerful
             Charm
          
           
             Enervate
             Albion
             to
             just
             valour
             warm
             !
          
           
             Whether
             much
             suffering
             Charles
             shall
             Theam
             afford
          
           
             Or
             the
             great
             Deeds
             of
             God-like
             
             James's
             Sword
             ,
          
           
             Again
             fair
             Gallià
             might
             be
             ours
             ,
             again
          
           
             Another
             Fleet
             might
             Pass
             the
             subject
             main
             .
          
           
           
             Another
             
             Edward
             ●ead
             the
             Britains
             o●
             ,
          
           
             Or
             such
             an
             Ossory
             as
             you
             did
             moan
             ;
          
           
             While
             in
             such
             Numbers
             you
             ,
             in
             such
             a
             strain
          
           
             Inflame
             their
             courage
             ,
             and
             reward
             their
             pain
             .
          
        
         
           
             Let
             false
             Achitophel
             the
             rout
             engage
             ,
          
           
             Talk
             easie
             Absalom
             to
             rebel
             rage
             ;
          
           
             Let
             frugal
             Shimei
             curse
             in
             holy
             Zeal
             ,
          
           
             Or
             modest
             Corah
             more
             new
             Plots
             reveal
             ,
          
           
             Whilst
             constant
             to
             himself
             ,
             secure
             of
             fate
             ,
          
           
             Good
             David
             still
             maintains
             the
             Royal
             State
             ,
          
           
             Tho
             each
             in
             vain
             such
             various
             ills
             employs
             ,
          
           
             Firmly
             he
             stands
             ▪
             and
             even
             those
             ills
             enjoys
             ;
          
           
             Firm
             as
             fair
             Albion
             midst
             the
             raging
             Main
          
           
             Surveys
             encircling
             danger
             with
             disdain
             .
          
           
             In
             vain
             the
             waves
             assault
             the
             unmov'd
             shore
             ,
          
           
             In
             vain
             the
             winds
             with
             mingled
             fury
             rore
             .
          
           
             Fair
             
             Albiòn's
             beaureous
             Cliffs
             shine
             whiter
             than
             before
             .
          
        
         
           
             Nor
             shalt
             thou
             move
             ,
             tho
             Hell
             thy
             fall
             conspire
             ,
          
           
             Tho
             the
             worse
             rage
             of
             zeal's
             Fanatick
             Fire
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             best
             ,
             thou
             greatest
             of
             the
             British
             race
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             only
             fit
             to
             fill
             Great
             
             Charles's
             his
             place
             .
          
        
         
           
             Ah
             wratched
             Britains
             :
             ah
             too
             stubborn
             Isle
             ,
          
           
             Ah
             stiff-neck't
             Israel
             on
             blest
             
               Canaan's
               ,
               soyl
            
          
           
             Are
             those
             dear
             proofs
             of
             Heaven's
             Indulgence
             vain
             ,
          
           
             Restoring
             David
             and
             his
             gentle
             raign
             .
          
           
             Is
             it
             in
             vain
             thou
             all
             the
             Goods
             dost
             know
          
           
             Auspicious
             Stars
             on
             Mortals
             shed
             below
          
           
             VVhile
             all
             thy
             streams
             with
             Milk
             ,
             thy
             Lands
             with
             Honey
             flow
          
           
             No
             more
             fond
             Isle
             ,
             no
             more
             they
             self
             engage
             ,
          
           
             In
             civil
             fury
             ,
             and
             intestine
             rage
             ;
          
           
             No
             rebel
             zeal
             thy
             duteous
             Land
             molest
             ,
          
           
             But
             a
             smooth
             Calm
             sooth
             every
             peacefull
             breast
             ,
          
           
             While
             in
             such
             Charming
             notes
             Divinely
             sings
             ,
          
           
             The
             best
             of
             Poets
             ,
             of
             the
             best
             of
             Kings
             ,
          
        
      
    
     
       
         
         
           The
           Medall
           .
           A
           SATYRE
           AGAINST
           SEDITION
        
         
           
             OF
             all
             our
             Antick
             Sights
             ,
             and
             Pageantry
          
           
             Which
             English
             Ideots
             run
             in
             crowds
             to
             see
             ,
          
           
             The
             
               Polish
               Medall
            
             bears
             the
             prize
             alone
             :
          
           
             A
             Monster
             ,
             more
             the
             Favourite
             of
             the
             Town
          
           
             Than
             either
             Fayrs
             or
             Theatres
             have
             shown
          
           
             Never
             did
             Art
             so
             well
             with
             Nature
             strive
             ;
          
           
             Nor
             ever
             Idol
             seem'd
             so
             much
             alive
             :
          
           
             So
             like
             the
             Man
             ;
             so
             golden
             to
             the
             sight
             ,
          
           
             So
             base
             within
             ,
             so
             counterfeit
             and
             light
             .
          
           
             One
             side
             is
             fill'd
             with
             Title
             and
             with
             Face
             ,
          
           
             And
             ,
             lest
             the
             King
             shou'd
             want
             a
             regal
             Place
             ,
          
           
             On
             the
             reverse
             ,
             a
             Tow'r
             the
             Town
             surveys
             ,
          
           
             O'er
             which
             our
             mounting
             Sun
             his
             beams
             displays
             ,
          
           
             The
             Word
             ,
             pronounc'd
             aloud
             by
             Shrieval
             voice
             ,
          
           
             Laetamur
             which
             ,
             in
             Polish
             ,
             is
             rejoice
             ,
          
           
             The
             Day
             ,
             Month
             ,
             Year
             ,
             to
             the
             great
             Act
             are
             join'd
          
           
             And
             a
             new
             Canting
             Holiday
             design'd
             .
          
           
             Five
             daies
             he
             sate
             ,
             for
             everie
             cast
             and
             look
             ,
          
           
           
             Four
             more
             than
             God
             to
             finish
             Adam
             took
             .
          
           
             But
             who
             can
             tell
             what
             Essence
             Angels
             are
             ,
          
           
             Or
             how
             long
             Heav'n
             was
             making
             Lucifer
             ?
          
           
             Oh
             ,
             cou'd
             the
             Style
             that
             copy'd
             every
             grace
             ,
          
           
             And
             plough'd
             such
             furrows
             for
             an
             Eunuch
             face
             ,
          
           
             Cou'd
             it
             have
             form'd
             his
             ever-changing
             will
          
           
             The
             various
             Piece
             had
             tir'd
             the
             Graver's
             Skill
             !
          
           
             A
             Martial
             Heroe
             first
             ,
             with
             early
             care
             ,
          
           
             Blown
             ,
             like
             a
             Pigmee
             by
             the
             VVinds
             ,
             to
             war.
          
           
             A
             beardless
             Chief
             ,
             a
             Rebel
             ,
             e'r
             a
             Man
             ,
          
           
             (
             So
             young
             his
             hatred
             to
             his
             Prince
             began
             )
          
           
             Next
             this
             ,
             (
             How
             wildly
             will
             Ambition
             steer
             .
             )
          
           
             A
             Vermin
             wriggling
             in
             the
             th'
             Usurper's
             Ear.
          
           
             Bart'ring
             his
             venal
             wit
             for
             sums
             of
             gold
          
           
             He
             cast
             himself
             into
             the
             Saint-like
             mould
             ;
          
           
             Groan'd
             ,
             sigh'd
             and
             pray'd
             ,
             while
             Godliness
             was
             gain
          
           
             The
             lowdest
             Bagpipe
             of
             the
             squeaking
             Train
          
           
             But
             ,
             as
             't
             is
             hard
             to
             cheat
             a
             Juggler's
             eyes
             ,
          
           
             His
             open
             lewdness
             he
             cou'd
             ne'er
             disguise
             .
          
           
             There
             split
             the
             Saint
             :
             for
             Hypocritique
             zeal
          
           
             Allows
             no
             Sins
             but
             those
             it
             can
             conceal
             .
          
           
             Whoring
             to
             scandal
             gives
             too
             large
             a
             scope
             :
          
           
             Saints
             must
             not
             trade
             ,
             but
             they
             may
             interlope
             .
          
           
             Th'
             ungodly
             Principle
             was
             all
             the
             same
             ;
          
           
             But
             a
             gross
             Cheat
             betrays
             his
             Partner's
             Game
             .
          
           
             Besides
             ,
             their
             pace
             was
             formal
             ,
             grave
             and
             slack
             ▪
          
           
             His
             nimble
             Wit
             outran
             the
             heavy
             Pack
             .
          
           
             Yet
             still
             he
             found
             his
             Fortune
             at
             a
             stay
          
           
             Whole
             droves
             of
             Block
             heads
             choaking
             up
             his
             way
             ;
          
           
             They
             took
             ,
             but
             not
             rewarded
             ,
             his
             advice
             ,
          
           
             Villain
             and
             Wit
             exact
             a
             double
             price
             .
          
           
             Pow'r
             was
             his
             aym
             :
             but
             ,
             thrown
             from
             that
             pretence
             ,
          
           
             The
             wretch
             turn'd
             loyal
             in
             his
             own
             defence
             ,
          
           
             And
             Malice
             reconcil'd
             him
             to
             his
             Prince
             .
          
           
             Him
             ,
             in
             the
             anguish
             of
             his
             Soul
             he
             serv'd
             ,
          
           
           
             Rewarded
             faster
             still
             than
             he
             deserv'd
          
           
             Behold
             him
             now
             exalted
             into
             trust
             ,
          
           
             His
             Counsel's
             oft
             convenient
             ,
             seldom
             just
             .
          
           
             Ev'n
             in
             the
             most
             sincere
             advice
             he
             gave
          
           
             He
             had
             a
             grudging
             still
             to
             be
             a
             Knave
             .
          
           
             The
             Frauds
             he
             learnt
             in
             his
             Fanatique
             years
          
           
             Made
             him
             uneasy
             in
             his
             lawful
             gears
             .
          
           
             At
             best
             as
             little
             honest
             as
             he
             cou'd
             .
          
           
             And
             ,
             like
             white
             Witches
             ,
             mischievously
             good
             ▪
          
           
             To
             his
             first
             byass
             ,
             longingly
             he
             leans
             ,
          
           
             And
             rather
             wou'd
             be
             great
             by
             wicked
             means
             .
          
           
             Thus
             ,
             fram'd
             for
             ill
             ,
             he
             loos'd
             our
             Triple
             hold
             .
          
           
             (
             Advice
             unsafe
             ,
             precipitous
             ,
             and
             bold
             .
             )
          
           
             From
             hence
             those
             tears
             !
             that
             Ilium
             of
             our
             woe
             !
          
           
             Who
             helps
             a
             powr'ful
             Friend
             ,
             fore-arms
             a
             Foe
          
           
             What
             wonder
             if
             the
             waves
             prevail
             so
             far
          
           
             VVhen
             He
             cut
             down
             the
             Banks
             that
             made
             the
             bar
             ?
          
           
             Seas
             follow
             but
             their
             Nature
             to
             invade
             .
          
           
             But
             He
             by
             Art
             our
             native
             Strength
             betray'd
          
           
             So
             Sampson
             to
             his
             Foe
             his
             force
             confest
             .
          
           
             And
             ,
             to
             be
             shorn
             ,
             lay
             slumb'ring
             on
             her
             breast
          
           
             But
             ,
             when
             this
             fatal
             Counsel
             ,
             found
             too
             late
             ,
          
           
             Expos'd
             its
             Authour
             to
             the
             publique
             hate
             .
          
           
             When
             his
             just
             Sovereign
             ,
             by
             no
             impious
             way
             ,
          
           
             Cou'd
             be
             seduc'd
             to
             Arbitrary
             sway
             .
          
           
             Forsaken
             of
             that
             hope
             .
             he
             shifts
             the
             sayle
             :
          
           
             Drives
             down
             the
             Current
             with
             a
             pop'lar
             gale
             .
          
           
             And
             shews
             the
             Fiend
             confess'd
             without
             a
             vaile
             .
          
           
             He
             preaches
             to
             the
             Crowd
             ,
             that
             Pow'r
             is
             lent
             ,
          
           
             But
             not
             convey'd
             to
             Kingly
             Government
             .
          
           
             That
             Claimes
             successive
             bear
             no
             binding
             force
             .
          
           
             That
             Coronation
             Oaths
             are
             things
             of
             course
             .
          
           
             Maintains
             the
             Multitude
             can
             never
             err
             .
          
           
             And
             sets
             the
             People
             in
             the
             Papal
             Chair
             .
          
           
           
             The
             reason
             's
             obvious
             ;
             
               Int'rest
               never
               lyes
            
          
           
             The
             most
             have
             still
             their
             Int'rest
             in
             their
             eyes
             ,
          
           
             The
             pow'r
             is
             alwaies
             theirs
             ,
             and
             pow'r
             is
             ever
             wise
             ,
          
           
             Almighty
             Crowd
             ,
             thou
             shorten'st
             all
             dispute
             ,
          
           
             Pow'r
             is
             thy
             Essence
             ,
             Wit
             thy
             Attribute
             .
          
           
             Nor
             Faith
             nor
             Reason
             make
             thee
             at
             a
             stay
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             leapst
             o'r
             all
             eternal
             truths
             ,
             in
             thy
             Pinbarique
             way
             .
          
           
             Athens
             ,
             no
             doubt
             ,
             did
             righteouslie
             decide
             ,
          
           
             Whem
             Phocion
             and
             when
             Socrates
             were
             try'd
             :
          
           
             As
             righteouslie
             they
             did
             those
             dooms
             repent
             ,
          
           
             Still
             they
             were
             wise
             ,
             what
             ever
             way
             they
             went.
          
           
             Crowds
             err
             not
             ,
             though
             to
             both
             extremes
             they
             run
             ,
          
           
             To
             kill
             the
             Father
             ,
             and
             recall
             the
             Son.
          
           
             Some
             think
             the
             Fools
             were
             most
             ,
             as
             times
             went
             then
          
           
             But
             now
             the
             World
             's
             o'r
             stock'd
             with
             prudentmen
             .
          
           
             The
             common
             Cry
             is
             ev'n
             Religion's
             Test
             ,
          
           
             The
             
             Turk's
             is
             ,
             at
             Constantinople
             ,
             best
             ,
          
           
             Idols
             in
             India
             ,
             Poperie
             at
             Rome
             ,
          
           
             And
             our
             own
             Worship
             onelie
             true
             at
             home
             .
          
           
             And
             true
             ,
             but
             for
             the
             time
             ,
             't
             is
             hard
             to
             know
          
           
             How
             long
             we
             please
             it
             shall
             continue
             so
             .
          
           
             This
             side
             to
             day
             ,
             and
             that
             to
             morrow
             burns
             ,
          
           
             So
             all
             are
             God-a'mighties
             in
             their
             turns
             .
          
           
             A
             Tempting
             Doctrine
             ,
             plausible
             and
             new
             :
          
           
             What
             Fools
             our
             Fathers
             were
             ,
             if
             this
             be
             true
             .
          
           
             Who
             ,
             to
             destroy
             the
             seeds
             of
             Civil
             War
             ,
          
           
             Inherent
             right
             in
             Monarchs
             did
             declare
             :
          
           
             And
             ,
             that
             a
             lawful
             Pow'r
             might
             never
             cease
             .
          
           
             Secur'd
             Succession
             ,
             to
             secure
             our
             Peace
             .
          
           
             Thus
             ,
             Property
             and
             Soveraign
             Sway
             ,
             at
             last
          
           
             In
             equal
             Balances
             were
             justly
             cast
          
           
             But
             this
             new
             Jehu
             spurs
             the
             hot
             mouth'd
             horse
             ,
          
           
             Inst●ucts
             the
             Beast
             to
             know
             his
             native
             force
             ,
          
           
             To
             take
             the
             Bit
             between
             his
             teeth
             and
             fly
          
           
             To
             the
             next
             headlong
             Steep
             of
             Anarchy
             .
          
           
           
             Too
             happie
             England
             ,
             if
             our
             good
             we
             knew
             ,
          
           
             Wou'd
             we
             possess
             the
             freedom
             we
             pursue
             ,
          
           
             The
             lavish
             Government
             can
             give
             no
             more
             :
          
           
             Yet
             we
             repine
             ,
             and
             plenty
             makes
             us
             poor
             .
          
           
             God
             try'd
             us
             once
             ,
             our
             Rebel-fathers
             fought
             ,
          
           
             He
             glutted'em
             with
             all
             the
             pow'r
             they
             sought
             ,
          
           
             Till
             ,
             master'd
             by
             their
             own
             usurping
             Brave
             ,
          
           
             The
             free-born
             Subject
             sunk
             into
             a
             slave
             .
          
           
             We
             loath
             our
             Manna
             ,
             and
             we
             long
             for
             Quails
             .
          
           
             Ah
             ,
             what
             is
             man
             ,
             when
             his
             own
             wish
             prevails
             .
          
           
             How
             rash
             ,
             how
             swift
             to
             plunge
             himself
             in
             ill
             ,
          
           
             Proud
             of
             his
             pow'r
             ,
             and
             boundless
             in
             his
             Will
             :
          
           
             That
             Kings
             can
             doe
             no
             wrong
             we
             must
             believe
             ,
          
           
             None
             can
             they
             doe
             ,
             and
             must
             they
             all
             receive
             .
          
           
             Help
             heaven
             .
             or
             sadlie
             we
             shall
             see
             an
             hour
             ,
          
           
             When
             neither
             wrong
             nor
             right
             are
             in
             their
             pow'r
          
           
             Alreadie
             they
             have
             lost
             their
             best
             defence
             ,
          
           
             The
             benefit
             of
             Laws
             ,
             which
             they
             dispence
          
           
             No
             justice
             to
             their
             righteous
             Cause
             allow'd
             ;
          
           
             But
             baffled
             by
             an
             Arbitrarie
             Crowd
             .
          
           
             And
             Medalls
             grav'd
             ,
             their
             Conquest
             to
             record
             ,
          
           
             The
             Stamp
             and
             Coyn
             of
             their
             adopted
             Lord
          
        
         
           
             The
             Man
             who
             laugh'd
             but
             once
             ,
             to
             see
             an
             Ass
          
           
             Mumbling
             to
             make
             the
             cross-grain'd
             Thistles
             pass
             ,
          
           
             Might
             laugh
             again
             ,
             to
             see
             a
             Jurie
             chaw
          
           
             The
             prickles
             of
             unpalatable
             Law.
          
           
             The
             witnesses
             ,
             that
             ,
             Leech-like
             ,
             liv'd
             on
             bloud
             ,
          
           
             Sucking
             for
             them
             were
             med'cinallie
             good
             ,
          
           
             But
             ,
             when
             they
             fasten'd
             on
             their
             fester'd
             Sore
             ,
          
           
             Then
             ,
             Justice
             and
             Religion
             they
             forswore
             ,
          
           
             Their
             Mayden
             Oaths
             debauch'd
             into
             a
             whore
             .
          
           
             Thus
             Men
             are
             rais'd
             by
             Factions
             ,
             and
             decry'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             Rogue
             and
             Saint
             distinguish'd
             by
             their
             Side
             .
          
           
             They
             rack
             ev'n
             Scripture
             to
             confess
             their
             Cause
             ,
          
           
           
             And
             plead
             a
             Call
             to
             preach
             ,
             in
             spight
             of
             Laws
             .
          
           
             But
             that
             's
             ●o
             news
             to
             the
             poor
             injur'd
             Page
             :
          
           
             It
             has
             been
             us'd
             as
             ill
             in
             every
             Age
             :
          
           
             And
             is
             constrain'd
             ,
             with
             patience
             ,
             all
             to
             take
             ;
          
           
             For
             what
             defence
             can
             Greek
             and
             Hebrew
             make
             ?
          
           
             Happy
             who
             can
             this
             talking
             Trumpet
             seize
             ;
          
           
             They
             make
             it
             speak
             whatever
             Sense
             they
             please
             !
          
           
             'T
             was
             fram'd
             ,
             at
             first
             ,
             our
             Oracle
             t'
             enquire
             :
          
           
             But
             ,
             since
             our
             Sects
             in
             prophecy
             grow
             higher
             ,
          
           
             The
             Text
             inspires
             not
             them
             ;
             but
             they
             the
             Text
             inspire
             .
          
        
         
           
             London
             ,
             thou
             great
             Emporium
             of
             our
             Isle
             ,
          
           
             O
             ,
             thou
             too
             bounteous
             ,
             thou
             too
             fruitful
             Nile
             ,
          
           
             How
             shal
             I
             praise
             or
             curse
             to
             thy
             desert
             !
          
           
             Or
             separate
             thy
             sound
             ,
             from
             thy
             corrupted
             part
             !
          
           
             I
             call'd
             thee
             Nile
             ;
             the
             parallel
             will
             stand
             :
          
           
             Thy
             tydes
             of
             wealth
             o'rflow
             the
             fattend
             Land
             ;
          
           
             Yet
             Monsters
             from
             thy
             large
             increase
             we
             find
             ;
          
           
             Engender'd
             on
             the
             Slyme
             thou
             leav'st
             behind
             .
          
           
             Sedition
             has
             not
             wholly
             seiz'd
             on
             thee
             ;
          
           
             Thy
             nobler
             Parts
             are
             from
             infection
             free
             .
          
           
             Of
             
             Israel's
             Tribes
             thou
             hast
             a
             numerous
             band
             !
          
           
             But
             still
             the
             Canaanite
             is
             in
             the
             Land.
          
           
             Thy
             military
             Chiefs
             are
             brave
             and
             true
             :
          
           
             Nor
             are
             thy
             disinchanted
             Burghers
             few
             .
          
           
             The
             Head
             is
             loyal
             which
             thy
             Heart
             commands
             :
          
           
             But
             what
             's
             a
             Head
             with
             two
             such
             gouty
             Hands
             ?
          
           
             The
             wise
             and
             wealthy
             love
             the
             surest
             way
             :
          
           
             And
             are
             content
             to
             thrive
             and
             to
             obey
             .
          
           
             But
             Wisedom
             is
             to
             Sloath
             too
             great
             a
             Slave
             ,
          
           
             None
             are
             so
             busy
             as
             the
             Fool
             and
             Knave
             .
          
           
             Those
             let
             me
             curse
             ▪
             what
             vengeance
             will
             they
             urge
             ,
          
           
             Whose
             Ordures
             neither
             Plague
             nor
             Fire
             can
             purge
             :
          
           
             Nor
             sharp
             Experience
             can
             to
             duty
             bring
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             angry
             Heav'n
             ,
             nor
             a
             forgiving
             King
             !
          
           
           
             In
             Gospel
             phraze
             their
             Chapmen
             they
             betray
             :
          
           
             Their
             Shops
             are
             Dens
             ,
             the
             Buyer
             is
             their
             Prey
             .
          
           
             The
             Knack
             of
             Trades
             is
             living
             on
             the
             Spoyl
             ;
          
           
             They
             boast
             ,
             ev'n
             when
             each
             other
             they
             beguile
             .
          
           
             Customes
             to
             steal
             is
             such
             a
             trivial
             thing
             ,
          
           
             That
             't
             is
             their
             Charter
             ,
             to
             defraud
             their
             King.
          
           
             All
             hands
             unite
             of
             every
             jarring
             Sect
             ;
          
           
             They
             cheat
             the
             Country
             first
             ,
             and
             then
             infect
             .
          
           
             They
             ,
             for
             God's
             Cause
             their
             Monarch
             dare
             dethrone
             ;
          
           
             And
             they
             'll
             be
             sure
             to
             make
             his
             Cause
             their
             own
             .
          
           
             VVhether
             the
             plotting
             Jesuite
             lay'd
             the
             plan
          
           
             Of
             murth'ring
             Kings
             ,
             or
             the
             French
             Puritan
             ,
          
           
             Our
             Sacrilegious
             Sects
             their
             Guids
             outgo
             ;
          
           
             And
             Kings
             and
             Kingly
             Pow'r
             wou'd
             murther
             too
             .
          
           
             VVhat
             means
             their
             Trait'rous
             Combination
             less
             ,
          
           
             Too
             plain
             t'
             evade
             ,
             too
             shameful
             to
             confess
             .
          
           
             But
             Treason
             is
             not
             own'd
             when
             t
             is
             descry'd
             ;
          
           
             Successfull
             Crimes
             alone
             are
             justify'd
             .
          
           
             The
             Men
             ,
             who
             no
             Conspiracy
             wou'd
             find
             ,
          
           
             VVho
             doubts
             ,
             but
             had
             it
             taken
             ,
             they
             had
             joyn'd
             .
          
           
             Joyn'd
             ,
             in
             a
             murual
             Cov'nant
             of
             defence
             ;
          
           
             At
             first
             without
             ,
             at
             last
             against
             their
             Prince
             .
          
           
             If
             Soveraign
             Right
             by
             Soveraign
             Pow'r
             they
             scan
             ,
          
           
             The
             same
             bold
             Maxime
             holds
             in
             God
             and
             Man
             :
          
           
             God
             were
             not
             safe
             ,
             his
             Thunder
             cou'd
             they
             shun
             ,
          
           
             He
             shou'd
             be
             forc'd
             to
             crown
             another
             Son.
          
           
             Thus
             ,
             when
             the
             Heir
             was
             from
             the
             Vineyard
             thrown
             ,
          
           
             The
             rich
             Possession
             was
             the
             Murth'rers
             own
             .
          
           
             In
             vain
             to
             Sophistry
             they
             have
             recourse
             :
          
           
             By
             proving
             theirs
             no
             Plot
             ,
             they
             prove
             't
             is
             worse
             ;
          
           
             Unmask'd
             Rebellion
             ,
             and
             audacious
             Force
             .
          
           
             Which
             ,
             though
             not
             Actual
             ,
             yet
             all
             Eyes
             may
             see
          
           
             'T
             is
             working
             ,
             in
             the
             immediate
             Pow'r
             to
             be
             ;
          
           
             For
             ,
             from
             pretended
             Grievances
             they
             rise
             ,
          
           
           
             First
             to
             dislik
             ,
             and
             after
             to
             despise
          
           
             Then
             ,
             
             Cyclop-like
             in
             humane
             Flesh
             to
             deal
             :
          
           
             Chop
             up
             a
             Minister
             ,
             at
             every
             meal
             :
          
           
             Perhaps
             not
             wholly
             to
             melt
             down
             the
             King
             :
          
           
             But
             clip
             his
             regal
             Rights
             within
             the
             Ring
             .
          
           
             From
             thence
             ,
             t'
             assume
             the
             pow'r
             of
             Peace
             and
             VVar
             :
          
           
             And
             ease
             him
             by
             degrees
             of
             publique
             Care.
          
           
             Yet
             ,
             to
             consult
             his
             Dignity
             and
             Fame
             ,
          
           
             He
             shou'd
             have
             leave
             to
             exercise
             the
             Name
             :
          
           
             And
             hold
             the
             Cards
             ,
             while
             Commons
             play'd
             the
             game
          
           
             For
             what
             can
             Pow'r
             give
             more
             than
             Food
             and
             Drink
             ,
          
           
             To
             live
             at
             ease
             ,
             and
             not
             to
             be
             bound
             to
             think
             ?
          
           
             These
             are
             the
             cooler
             methods
             of
             their
             Crime
             ;
          
           
             But
             their
             hot
             Zealots
             think
             't
             is
             loss
             of
             time
             :
          
           
             On
             utmost
             bounds
             of
             Loyalty
             rhey
             stand
             :
          
           
             And
             grinn
             and
             whet
             like
             a
             Croatian
             band
             ,
          
           
             That
             waits
             impatient
             for
             the
             last
             Command
             .
          
           
             Thus
             Out-laws
             open-Villany
             maintain
             :
          
           
             They
             steal
             not
             ,
             but
             in
             Squadrons
             scoure
             the
             Plain
             ,
          
           
             And
             ,
             if
             their
             pow'r
             the
             Passengers
             subdue
             ,
             ,
          
           
             The
             Most
             have
             right
             ,
             the
             wrong
             is
             in
             the
             Few
             .
          
           
             Such
             impious
             Axiomes
             foolishly
             they
             show
             ,
          
           
             For
             ,
             in
             some
             soyls
             Republiques
             will
             not
             grow
             ,
          
           
             Our
             Temp'rate
             Isle
             will
             no
             extremes
             sustain
             ,
          
           
             Of
             pop'lar
             sway
             ,
             or
             Arbitrary
             Reign
             ,
          
           
             But
             slides
             between
             them
             both
             into
             the
             best
             ,
          
           
             Secure
             in
             freedom
             ,
             in
             a
             Monarch
             blest
             .
          
           
             And
             though
             the
             Clymate
             ,
             vex't
             with
             various
             winds
          
           
             Works
             through
             our
             yielding
             Bodies
             ,
             on
             our
             Minds
             ,
          
           
             The
             wholsome
             Tempest
             purges
             what
             it
             breeds
             ,
          
           
             To
             recommend
             the
             Calmness
             that
             succeeds
             .
          
        
         
           
             But
             thou
             the
             pander
             of
             the
             peoples
             hearts
             ,
          
           
             O
             Crooked
             Soul
             ,
             and
             serpentine
             in
             arts
             .
          
           
             VVhose
             blandishments
             ,
             a
             Loyal
             Land
             have
             whor'd
             ,
          
           
           
             And
             broke
             the
             Bonds
             she
             plighted
             to
             her
             Lord
             ;
          
           
             What
             Curses
             on
             thy
             blasted
             Name
             will
             fall
             !
          
           
             Which
             Age
             to
             Age
             their
             Legacy
             shall
             call
             ;
          
           
             For
             all
             must
             curse
             the
             Woes
             rhat
             must
             descend
             on
             all
             .
          
           
             Religion
             thou
             hast
             none
             :
             rhy
             Mercury
          
           
             Has
             pass'd
             through
             every
             Sect
             ,
             or
             theirs
             through
             Thee
             .
          
           
             But
             what
             thou
             giv'st
             ,
             that
             Venom
             still
             remains
             ;
          
           
             And
             the
             pox'd
             Nation
             feels
             Thee
             in
             their
             Brains
             ▪
          
           
             What
             else
             inspires
             the
             Tongues
             ,
             and
             swells
             the
             Breasts
          
           
             Of
             all
             rhy
             Bellowing
             Renegado
             Priests
             ,
          
           
             That
             preach
             up
             Thee
             for
             God
             :
             dispence
             thy
             Laws
             :
          
           
             And
             with
             thy
             S●●mm
             ferment
             their
             fainting
             Cause
             ?
          
           
             Fresh
             Fumes
             of
             madness
             raise
             ;
             and
             to
             ile
             and
             sweat
          
           
             To
             make
             the
             formidable
             Cripple
             great
             .
          
           
             Yet
             ,
             shou'd
             thy
             Crimes
             succed
             .
             shou'd
             lawless
             Pow'r
          
           
             Compass
             those
             Ends
             thy
             greedy
             Hopes
             devour
             ,
          
           
             Thy
             Canting
             Friends
             thy
             Mortal
             Foes
             wou'd
             be
             ;
          
           
             Thy
             God
             and
             theirs
             will
             never
             song
             agree
             .
          
           
             For
             thine
             ,
             (
             if
             thou
             hast
             any
             ,
             )
             must
             be
             one
          
           
             That
             lets
             the
             World
             and
             Humane-kind
             alone
             :
          
           
             A
             jolly
             God
             ,
             that
             passes
             hours
             too
             well
          
           
             To
             promise
             Heav'n
             ,
             or
             threatn
             us
             with
             Hell.
          
           
             That
             unconcern'd
             can
             at
             Rebellion
             sit
             ;
          
           
             And
             wink
             at
             Crimes
             he
             did
             himself
             commit
             .
          
           
             A
             Tyrant
             theirs
             ;
             the
             Heav'n
             their
             Priesthood
             paints
          
           
             A
             Conventicle
             of
             gloomy
             sullen
             Saints
             ;
          
           
             A
             Heav'n
             ,
             like
             Bedlam
             ,
             slovenly
             and
             sad
             ;
          
           
             Fore-doom'd
             for
             Souls
             ,
             with
             false
             Religion
             ,
             mad
             .
          
        
         
           
             Without
             a
             Vision
             Poets
             can
             fore-show
          
           
             What
             all
             but
             Fools
             ,
             by
             common
             Sense
             may
             know
             :
          
           
             If
             true
             Succession
             from
             our
             Ifle
             shou'd
             fail
             .
          
           
             And
             Crowds
             profane
             ,
             with
             impious
             Arms
             prevail
             ,
          
           
             Not
             Thou
             ▪
             nor
             those
             thy
             Factious
             Arts
             ingage
          
           
             Shall
             reap
             that
             Harvest
             of
             Rebellious
             Rage
             ,
          
           
             With
             which
             thou
             flatter'st
             thy
             decrept
             Age.
          
           
           
             The
             swelling
             Poyson
             of
             the
             sev'ral
             Sects
             .
          
           
             Whlch
             wanting
             vent
             ,
             the
             Nations
             Health
             infects
          
           
             Shall
             burst
             its
             Bag
             ;
             and
             fighting
             out
             their
             way
          
           
             The
             various
             Venoms
             on
             ▪
             each
             other
             prey
             ▪
          
           
             The
             Presbyter
             ,
             puft
             up
             with
             spiritual
             Pride
             ,
          
           
             Shall
             on
             the
             Necks
             of
             the
             lewd
             Nobles
             ride
             :
          
           
             His
             Brethren
             damn
             ,
             the
             Civil
             Pow'r
             defy
             ;
          
           
             And
             parcel
             out
             Republique
             Prelacy
             .
          
           
             But
             short
             shall
             be
             his
             Reign
             :
             his
             rigid
             Yoke
          
           
             An
             Tyrant
             Pow'r
             will
             puny
             Sects
             provoke
             ;
          
           
             And
             Frogs
             and
             Toads
             ,
             and
             all
             the
             Tadpole
             Train
             .
          
           
             Will
             croak
             to
             Heav'n
             for
             help
             ,
             from
             this
             devouring
             Crane
             .
          
           
             The
             Cut-throat
             Sword
             and
             clamorous
             Gown
             shal
             jar
             ,
          
           
             In
             shareing
             their
             ill-gotten
             Spoiles
             of
             War
             :
          
           
             Chiefs
             shal
             be
             grudg'd
             the
             part
             which
             they
             pretend
             ;
          
           
             Lords
             envy
             Lords
             ,
             and
             Priends
             with
             every
             Friend
          
           
             About
             their
             impious
             Merit
             shall
             contend
             .
          
           
             The
             surly
             Commons
             shall
             respect
             deny
             ;
          
           
             And
             justle
             Peerage
             out
             with
             Property
             .
          
           
             Their
             Gen'ral
             either
             shal
             his
             Trust
             betray
             ,
          
           
             And
             force
             the
             Crowd
             to
             Arbitrary
             sway
             ;
          
           
             Or
             they
             suspecting
             his
             ambitious
             Aym.
          
           
             In
             hate
             of
             Kings
             shall
             cast
             anew
             the
             Frame
             ;
          
           
             And
             thrust
             out
             Collatine
             that
             bore
             their
             Name
             .
          
        
         
           
             Thus
             inborn
             Broyles
             the
             Factions
             wou'd
             ingage
             ;
          
           
             Or
             Wars
             of
             Exil'd
             Heirs
             ,
             or
             Foreign
             Rage
             ,
          
           
             Till
             halting
             Vengeance
             overtook
             our
             Age
             :
          
           
             And
             our
             wild
             labours
             ,
             wearied
             into
             Rest
             ,
          
           
             Reclin'd
             us
             on
             a
             rightfull
             Monarch's
             Breast
             .
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .