POEMS BY BEN. FRANCIS.  
Vivat in aeternum REX CAROLUS SECUNDUS; Quem Deus nunc & in saecula saeculorum conservet, oro.  
Entered according to Order.  
LONDON, Printed by T. R. for the Author, 1660.   

A pastoral elegy, upon the Barbarous decollation of King Charles the first, of ever Glorious memory; written shortly after his death.  Palaemon. Chorus of Shepherds. PALAE. 
I From the Bloodyest Barbarous Act am fled  
That ever was by Monsters nourished;  
And though my feet pursue an eager flight,  
Yet still my soul retains that horrid sight,  
Ah Cursed fate which me unwilling drew  
To that sad place this Tragedy to view.  CHOR. 
What Luckless fate, what woeful accident  
Hath happened that makes Palaemon to Lament?  
What sad misfortune is't that can possess  
Thy sprightly soul with so much heaviness?  
Needs must the cause be great that moves thee now,  
Since sorrow's seldom seen to Cloud thy brow.  PALAE. 
Ah dearest mates, mirth sounds a sad retreat;  
The day is come our Ruins are complete:  
Our miseries cast up in this most dread  
and black prodigious Totall, Charles is dead.  CHOR. 
What! Charles the Great, the Good, the Quintessence  
Of all our earthly happiness; from whence  
Our breath we draw; and by whose beams we live?  
Ah! dear Palaemon, 'tis a cause to grieve:  
Horror Confounds us; yet we pray thee tell  
By what sad Chance this best of Princes fell.  PALAE. 
Should death and all hell's powers stand between,  
And make Relation what mine eyes have seen,  
To hear this execrable Act expressed,  
Would Conjure Terror in each fury's breast.  
This Cursed Rout; this most prodigious band  
Of Ravenous Tigers that infest this Land,  
Great Charles surprised and dragged him to the bar,  
Where all his deadlyest foes his Judges were,  
Peace is accused of war; Meekness of Pride;  
Mercy of blood, and truth by Treason's tried:  
Whose royal soul their Arrogance contemned,  
Till Monstrous guilt pure innocence condemned,  
And sentence past of death: hut O! prepare  
Your hearts of Steel, or bid my tongue forbear.  CHOR. 
O no, speak on, and let thy words redound  
Such Terror to our souls that may Confound  
Our vital Spirits, in such sort, whereby  
We may obtain the benefit to die.  PALAE. 
O 'twas a Crime past Satan's when he fell  
A fact no age can yield its parallel.  
In deep Oblivion Mithridates sleep,  
Nero and Tarquin with Tereus keep  
A harmless squeaking; Cromwell and his train  
Outstrip your Rage and tyrannies retain.  
From hence he's brought to that most woeful place  
Glorious of late by his Illustrious face:  
Whitehall: whence he his Godlike Mandates gave,  
And all the World his bounties did receive.  
There whence his virtue through the earth was famed  
There, there; those impious hands his Scaffold framed,  
There like a Lamb he's to the Slaughter led,  
There hell's stern brood smote off his royal head.  CHOR. 
Was there no sign no miracle descried?  
The Sun was darkened when our Saviour died,  
And could he view this Act so full of Dread  
And not amazed shrink in his frighted Head?  PALAE. 
'Twas not without a sign which did contract  
A wonder to attend this monstrous Act,  
Five Angels in the shapes of Fouls appeared,  
And from the air all Cloudy vapours cleared,  
These hovered o'er the fatal place and spread  
Their blessed wings just o'er his Sacred head,  
Eager to catch his Soul before his breath  
By that Dire stroke had yielded unto death.  
For one which late above the rest appeared  
With greater evidence the same declared,  
As if struck dead by these most horrid sights,  
Stoops down and almost on the Scaffold lights,  
Than up retreats, and wings again assumes,  
And to her former height directs her Plumes,  
There stays a while and hovers in the skies,  
Then with his Soul they vanished from our eyes.  CHOR. 
No more; no more; his falls a grief so high,  
None can Lament unless a Jeremy:  
Yet dear Palaemon we may justly turn  
Our griefs from him and for ourselves may mourn.  
His Blessed Soul now sits above the spheres,  
And there most happy triumphs o'er the Stars,  
Whilst we in's blood to our destruction swim,  
'Twas us they murdered when they struck at him.  PALAE. 

Hold, Hold, forbear your Mourning and no more  
His wrongs, nor your own injuries deplore:  
See; see; his Ashes move; his Blood revives  
And there behold where Charles the Second lives:  
Where phoenix like he rises from his dust,  
And Charles the great proceeds from Charles the just,  
By whose great hand the potent Heaven decrees  
A just revenge for these dire Butcheryes.  
Mean time (my dear Associates) come, O come,  
Let's pay our Tribute to his Sacred tomb  
And beg from Heaven a charm unto our verse  
That may for ever Guard his royal hearse.   

Rebellious traitors Tremble; come not near;  
Hence with your Sacrilegious feet, forbear:  
Touch not our dust we Charge ye; but be gone,  
And Rue the Act your Cursed hands have done:  
Nay rather mourn your miserable fate,  
Since no Repentance this can expiate.  
But you whose breasts this horrid act doth move  
With sad Resentments of a loyal Love,  
Draw nearer, and devoutly spend a tear,  
'Tis Charles the Great, the Good, the Just, lies here.    

AN interlude Upon the sudden Extirpation of our late great controllers.  

Speakers. 

Philotheus.  
Philolethes,  
Fleetwood.  
Lambert.  
Vane.  
Lenthall.  
Richard, late Protector.    
Mutes. 

Berry.  
Hewson.     Enter Philotheus, Philolethes. PHILOTH. 
What! are our Glorious planets set so soon?  
Has Tardy Saturn quite outstripped the moon?  
And made a quicker Revolution far,  
Then Sol or Luna in our Hemisphere?  
Is this great Fleetwood? that great Lambert? he!  
These grand corrivals in the sovereignty?  
Is all their power defunct? their great Commands  
Dissolved and lost?—  PHILOLE. 
Yes see where Fleetwood stands,  
A piteous object—  PHILOTH. 
Sure it cannot be  
That Fleetwood! sure that sniu'ling Elef's not he.  PHILOLE. 
But 'tis the same—  PHILOTH. 
Truly if it be so  
His Excellency's now exceeding low:  
He's Courting Lenthall, and for pardon sues,  
His late absurd Transgressions to excuse.  PHILOLE. 
But hear him speak.  FLEETWOOD. 
Great Sir accept I pray;  
The sovereign power, and unbounded sway;  
With all those great Exactions, and Commands,  
We lately wrested from your sacred hands.  
Acknowledging our error and offence,  
Witness these humble tears of Penitence;  
Alas 'tis true, cheered, with the late success,  
We found performed with so much easiness,  
Crying up Justice, and the good old Cause,  
How right we either meant, the ancient Laws  
In time may judge between us—  PHILOTH. 
Faith 'tis true,  
Your fate's the same; when Tyburn claims his due,  FLEETWOOD. 
In overturning puny Richard's powers,  
We by his fatal fall, advanced yours;  
And to your Pristin state, did you restore;  
Whence your Protector kicked ye out before.  
Thus we first raised, then Routed you, and I,  
In Imitation of his subtlety,  
Managed these great affairs: but he alas,  
In greater favour with the Devil was;  
Who him preserved in the Government  
Until his soul to his Protection went.  
When as upon the Contrary, when I  
No sooner mounted on the sovereignty,  
As if my service had not equalled his  
In Barbarous Treasons, and Impietys';  
When first I seized the Government of State,  
You my Commission voted out of date,  
My mushroom Majesty extinguished, all  
My hopes Conclude in this most shameful fall.  Exit Weeping. PHILOLE. 
What is he gone? doubtless he more had spoke,  
But that his tears his stammering words did choke:  
And now behold where Lambert doth appear,  
But not as Late onth ' Northwick theatre:  
When like a Tempest he came thundering on  
Poor timorous Booth and aged Middleton:  
Whom by his looks he vanquished; and now  
He looks so poorly, that he knows not how  
For shame t' appear; or show his graceless Face.  PHILOTH. 
" These Beagles hunted honour as their chase:  
" They made a fair pursuit and kept the Troyle,  
" But now hunt Counter back upon the foil:  
" The prize deserted with a shallow Cry,  
" Until they seize their former beggary,  
Now comes to make Confession of his sins:  
Hark and observe the brazen head begins.  PHILOLE. 
How well the epithet befits the place:  
" And properly; he's Aries head and Face,  
" Nothing deficient, to complete it so,  
" For horns his wife procured him long ago.  LAMBERT. 
Most mighty Sir! into whose powerful hands  
Dominion's Crept, by those united bands,  
We lately from your guard expulsed and thought  
By Clipping your long wings our own t' have brought  
To that aspiring pitch; this Land to steer,  
And why not I, as well as Oliver?  
I had the Sword alike, t' assist my claim:  
And no man doubts, but that our right's the same,  
Nor wanted fit associates, to my aid;  
Until your envious general Monk betrayed  
My rising fortunes; and my hope prevents  
By his more gallant, honester intents.  
No more let Fleetwood boast himself, 'twas I  
That imitated Nolls old Policy,  
And things at first to this distraction brought,  
being tutored by the self same Spirit, wrought  
The selfsame way; he purged them that withstood  
The shedding of Great Charles his sacred blood,  
And Fairfax from the Generalship expelled;  
Whereby the rule he uncontrolled held  
As need required, reserving you withal  
These few dependants, which the Rump we call,  
Till time occasion gave, by scattering you,  
The Government did to himself accure:  
Whereby he Trampled on your yielding necks:  
And unreproved securely played REX:  
All England made observant to his eye:  
Whilst none durst murmur at his Tyranny:  
This my ambition aimed at; and went on  
Tracing the very footsteps he had gone.  
First as a Parliament I called you  
(Being still Obsequious to the Sword I knew)  
Which proved a fair beginning; for in haste  
Poor sneaking Richard to the ground we cast,  
With all his Titles and his honours down,  
Even so by him Great Charles was overthrown.  
Nor herein know I what I more could do  
Then what I did unless I'd hanged him too:  
But he poor Fool no further strove to try it,  
But took his whipping kindly, and is quiet.  PHILOLE. 
Whereby 't appears he never was the Son  
Of Oliver but only madam Joan.  LAMBERT. 
Then I the Cheshire Forces did oppose  
With equal Terror, as his dreadful Nose  
Brave Ormond and the Irish overcame,  
So this I trusted would augment my fame,  
Which raised my soul to such a height of pride,  
When with a Thousand pounds you gratified  
That rare Exploit, it seemed to express  
A glad presage of a more great success.  
Next, that I might his Scholar more appear,  
And wisely hoping that the time drew near,  
The Army (Than my slaves) I hither drew,  
And like my precedent supplanted you,  
First having by my patron's Policy,  
Advanced Fleetwood to the Generalty,  
Thereby the more t' engage him to my aid,  
But quickly would of him a Fairfax made.  
And thus you see 'twas not my want of brains  
That made the devil so soon reward my pains.  
Discourteous fate! can Richard now forbear  
Having so fit a subject for to jeer  
His Brother Fleetwood, and myself when we  
With such disgrace quit our Authority?  
O mortal shame! and what is worse 't appears  
We're subject to Politicus his jeers.  
Much more a devil, would 't not vex a Saint,  
He who so lately with our names did paint  
His weekly Pamphlets; raised us to the skies,  
And all our Actions used to Canonize:  
Can now employ his wanton scurrilous Pen  
In making matches with Sir Henry Vane,  
For Wimbletons' Infanta and his Son.  
O Hell! 'tis time or never to have done!  
Such high disgrace the boys will hoot that hear it!  VANE. 
O Brother 'tis our fate and we must bear it,  
No Remedy remains our shame's so great,  
Unless the Alderman of York's Receipt;  
Though my ambition soared not all so high  
As yours, who played on surer grounds than I?  
I always temporised, and where I saw  
The Sword prevail, and Justice still withdraw;  
I made the Sword my lodestar; by it steered  
And ever where it ruled, there I appeared;  
Until this fatal; this prodigious Rout;  
Wherein the Sword did with the Hilt fall out,  
And strange! when first against itself it bent  
its horrid point; my Craft did still prevent  
Approaching dangers; seeing both sides loath  
To leave their rule; I took a part with both  
Complied with you that first brought on the war,  
And yet sat close with these at Westminster,  
That whether side so ere prevailed, I thought  
Mine own secure; but now alas I'm brought  
To this untimely Ruin.  PHILOTH. 
'Tis not so,  
'Tis more than time ye all had hanged ere now.  VANE. 
By this discovery and the Dyre event  
That made my double dealings evident;  
But O what mortal man conceived that ye  
Would such revengers be of Treachery.  LENTHALL. 
Friends, 'tis your fortune, grudge not at our powers  
Thieves have their Reign ye know, & you had yours:  
If fates have paid ye what your work deserves  
So soon (as Gusman learnedly observes)  
You ought not blame them; for the fates are free  
And 'twas not them but your simplicity  
That wrought your bane; how many of the Trade  
Prosper an age, ere their accounts be made?  
When others contrary to these we see  
(Being not so expert in the Mystery)  
Perish upon their first Transgressions: so  
Your indiscretions wrought your overthrow:  
What foolish madness was 't possessed your brain  
To think of acting that old scene again,  
Wherein as both affirm, you strove t' appear  
The perfect Scholars of old Oliver?  
You did observe his Policies, 'tis true;  
And traced his steps as near as men could do:  
But failed when your design you should have bent  
Not the same way, but one equivalent:  
O than yee've gained your wished ends; when now  
The more ye did▪ the more ye made us know  
How to prevent your Actions in the State;  
Which draw on all a lamentable fate:  
For know 'tis ordered that poor Richard he  
(O'er whom ye acted your first Tyranny)  
Be made your Judge, and what his sole Command  
Decrees; it must unalterably stand.  Enter RICHARD in a fool's Coat. Lenthall removing, he takes his place and gives judgement. RICHARD. 
What happy fates this Revolution wrought  
That my desires to this perfection brought  
Even past my hopes expectance shall I  
An idiot Censure fools before I die!  
Where's the Delinquents? Cause them to appear  
Fleetwood come forth; and Lambert stand you there.  Enter FLEETWOOD. 
Brother your will.— I yield unto your rule,  
Not as the elder but the greater fool.  RICHARD. 
You speak too late friend, 'tis no thanks to yield  
To our subjection when ye're thus compelled:  
Are these the men me from that power constrained  
Which my late father's usurpation gained,  
And me condemned uncapable of Rule  
My Father being a Knave and I a fool!  
O horrid impudence! dost not appear  
That you as well as subtle Oliver,  
Expulsed these members from the Parliament,  
Whose loud Remonstrance published your assent!  
Speak damned Hypocrites, must Oliver  
The sum of all your cursed Transgressions bear,  
Condemned for all, when you alike as he  
Were equal Actors in each Tragedy?  
Wading through blood and Tyranny 'tis true  
For which I doubt he's damned, and so will you:  
Your guilt's so evident we shall not need  
For further proof but sentence may proceed:  
'Tis vain to think that Justice so insenced,  
Can with your worthless lives be recompensed,  
Besides our mercy some relief shall give  
To your despairing souls; ye all shall live:  
Fleetwood and Lambert 'tis to you decreed  
That you stark naked shall to Rushia speed  
And there remain in the Muscovian fields,  
Which sometimes cold yet store of honey yields.  
You loved and had so sweet a time before  
You still shall be with honey anointed o'er.  
And being you here are famous for your Arms,  
Your office there shall be to guard the swarms  
From Wasps invasion which the Hives assail  
With the long feather of a capon's Tail.  
And you because your impious name is Vane,  
Shall to the pygmies, and affront the Crane  
Banished from hence to Earths remot●●●●●●nd  
Your Valour try; your hands behind ●●und,  
Whereby you'll give us cause t'accomp●●●●● wise,  
If in those Conflicts you preserve your eyes.  
Now Berry you so silent all this while  
Whose dark extract came from a charcoal-pile,  
Shall post to Aetna, there constrained to lie  
Where th' hottest showers of flaming Cinders fly  
Expecting no relief, or ere come down  
From that sad place till Hell shall claim its own.  
But you, you cobbling Poliphemus; you  
With that your squint Monoculus shall view  
These Judgements put in execution,  
And see each tittle be exactly done;  
But lest they grumble that we favour you  
You must perform this Charge stark naked too,  
Which being done, we doubt not 'twill appear,  
Of all their sufferings you'll not want a share.  
Our Judgement's past! let this our grand report  
Be ratified, and so dissolve the Court.  Flourish. exeunt. Manent Philotheus. Philolethes. PHILOTH. 
O dearest Philolethes have not we  
A Cause to magnify the Deity?  
These black prodigious Clouds dispersed and gone,  
Confirms our hope to see the rising Sun.  
Advance great Charles, thy storms are overblown,  
And smiling Heaven presents thee with a Crown.  PHILOLE. 
But O my Philotheus when shall we  
Be blessed with that complete felicity  
Our souls so long desire (next Heaven alone)  
To see him placed on his blessed father's Throne.  PHILOTH. 
O doubt not Philolethes, we shall see  
A glad reward for all our misery.  
Hell's powers deposed, and Heaven's propitious eyes  
Benignly look on our Calamities.  
That happy time draws near that will produce  
A glorious subject for our drooping Muse:  
Then in a lofty strain we'll chant and sing,  
And echo forth our joy, a King a King!  
Deo semper & ubique Gloria.   

AN elegy  
Upon the death of that most valorous and gallant Gentleman, Capt. Edward Morgan, slain near Northwich in Cheshire, August 19 1659.  

MOst woeful fate! had we but only one  
Right valiant noble soul? and is he gone!  
O 'twas t' appease the offended Deities  
That they chose out this richest sacrifice,  
Whereby they might our errors expiate  
And make our Adversaries sins complete.   

Brave happy soul! whose spirit did defy  
Subordination to the Tyranny  
Of earthborn Brats and Spawns of Hell; who thus  
Most insolently Lord it over us.  
How did thy rare unerring Judgement see,  
The guilt of their abhorred Treachery,  
Who like to self-condemning traitors, fled  
Before encountered; or scarce threatened:  
Then forth most brave heroic Morgan stood  
And sealed our Causes justice with his blood.  
That hell-belched flame, that winged the fatal Lead,  
Which raised thy soul, and struck thy body dead.  
hell's Instrument encounters and commands  
A trembling terror in the traitor's hands,  
And so each drop which from thy body fell  
Condensed and pressed a rebel's soul to hell.   

Forbear ye sons of darkness; you that boast  
A happy fate by what our party lost,  
Falsely accusing Heaven to patronize  
Your horrid Treasons and cursed villainies;  
Nor say that God your foul Rebellion owns,  
Because success your damned Actions Crowns.  
No, no, just Heaven a while its Arm recalls,  
That it may prove the heavier when it falls.  
And thus the Cursed Antichristian Crew  
Of Mahomet are justly yoked with you.   

Mean while most blessed Soul, our loyal eyes  
Shall pay their Tribute to thy Obsequies:  
Lament thy loss; and from the glorious Train  
Of happy Martyrs, wish thee back again;  
Forgive the Injury (great Saint) which we  
Herein commit 'gainst thy felicity;  
Where thou remainest and from her starry Throne  
Thy milk-white soul, on erring men looks down:  
Yet still we wish thee here! O sad distress!  
Our loss is great, which makes our Crime the less;  
This palliates our presumption; and herein  
Makes even sacrilege a venial sin.  
For though that thou 'mongst those bright Troops dost shine,  
Yet wanting thee our woeful Troops decline;  
And in this sad distraction must abide;  
Thus only labouring to be satisfied.   

That thou endeavouring Charles a Crown to gain,  
Didst to thyself a glorious Crown attain.    

A Relation of a mad merry Ramble, merrily begun, and as madly concluded.  

When Pleasant Summer to the colder signs,  
its flowery Meads and verdant Boughs resigns,  
And Phoebus casts on us a Feebler Ray  
Cold Winter entering clothes the fields in Gray,  
Such was the morn when by my Friend called on  
I left the House of Noble 
a Kinaston of Oteley.  Kinaston,  
And straight to Marbury steered our course from thence  
There to compose twixt friends a difference,  
Which hardly ended ere we fudd'led were,  
And for repose returned to Combermere.  
(But think not pray ye Gentlemen that here  
I'll in my journal turn Geographer,  
Nay I beseech ye Sirs forbear t' expect  
That here I Speed, or Camden should Correct,  
Although 'tis true I travailed late the bounds  
Of a fair Country, which itself surrounds  
In fruitful foil, and blessed with ancient fame,  
Till late Rebellion forfeited the same:  
But I must needs aver 'tis gained again  
By diverse loyal souls that dwell therein,  
Yet be it known 'tis not my task to prate  
How Rivers run or towns be scytuate.)  
Being here refreshed with a moderate Rest,  
Betimes next morning we ourselves addrested  
Unto a place where we appointed were  
To meet the ancient Spurstowes gallant heir  
Who us Conducted to that goodly seat  
That's honoured with his name; a house replete  
With noble entertainment; sumptuous cheer,  
Free cordial welcome; high and mighty beer:  
O thou most terrible and Monstrous (b) bear  
That gav'st me first my entertainment there, 
(a) Birch Can with the rough bark on it, that held about a quart.   
I can't forget how thou didst me surprise,  
Forcing sad tears to trickle from mine eyes,  
Which as a preparation to our course  
Of harder drinking mustered up our force,  
Wilbraham, Spurstow, Griffiths', Allen, i:  
Being at present all the Company,  
For earnest business Fletcher had withdrawn,  
And in his absence I remained his Pawn.  
Each man charged Cup observed this Watchword— now!  
'Tis bravely done boys; what's here more to do:  
Is all performed? the field we needs must win,  
Faith we must Rally, Charge 'em up again:  
Whilst thus we ranted and fell on pell-mell,  
If not the first, I was the next that fell  
Where now I do entreat ye let me lie.  
Disturb me not I'll waken by and by,  
So! now I am revived; prepared to try  
A fresh encounter with the Enemy  
That did so lately foil me: but what's here,  
Methinks a thundering at the Gates I hear;  
The word is brought us, Fletcher is returned,  
Whose absence we so much in Beer bowls mourned,  
A dreadful sight behind him did appear  
As strange, as ugly, so that some did swear  
If ere the Devil as famed that house assailed  
He then had brought him like a cloak-bag mailed:  
But yet to be resolved we all drew near,  
And that she's split up from the hips did swear.  
Faith Sir I had been so ere I came hither,  
But that my C—'s composed of stretching Leather,  
We bade brave Fletcher Welcome with his guide,  
His naked Hanger glittering by his side,  
The scabbard lost when 
c Out of his Belt.  out the same he drew  
And furiously a drinking-Can he slew.  
This Scene performed we settled foot to foot,  
The Cups go round, and we a fresh fell to't,  
Each Cup contained a friend's remembrance in't,  
Till full four hours we of the night had spent:  
Now Fletcher's Luggage drunk denies to take  
Cups as before; nor yet would she forsake  
Our Company, but evermore she cried,  
Do what ye will, I will not take't, 'twas tried:  
Quoth I, thy face shall have't, my breech cries she  
Will better brook it, and more willingly  
Shall take it for me; I who first begun't  
At her entreaty dashed it in her C—.  
Now time it was to part, the far spent night  
Our wearied bodies did to rest invite.  
A small repose sufficed our labouring brains,  
As if forgot our last nights taking pains,  
Again we freely quaff the flowing juice  
Which Tellus tortured bosom did produce;  
And in the afternoon we went to see  
A Town of ancient note called Bunbury,  
Where being sat we tipp'led there a space,  
At night removing to another place,  
The Habitation of one Badcock, where  
We all encountered by our hostess were:  
How Bad the Cock may be we nothing know,  
But Allan's well assured the Hen was so:  
For 'twas at first his sad and luckless chance,  
Calling her whore, to cause her to advance  
Her deadly talons, grappling arms at length,  
The Devil could hardly match her Mastiff strength,  
We in our friend's defence did all arise:  
Away ye Drunken puppies she replies,  
Have you been drinking elsewhere all the day,  
And now at night come here your wreaks to play?  
Her Husband stood and could not speak indeed,  
But all the Children were the mother's breed,  
Whose treble Throats so sharp a note did raise  
As challenged Hell to match them with a base.  
Their tongues; his silence; was enough from whence  
To prove her whore▪ and quite dissolve suspense.  
At length concluding peace from hence we went  
Unto another house of more content,  
Where being entered, I desired to know  
If Allen's strength had failed him yea or no,  
So too't we fell; and whilst we struggling were,  
By chance I stumbled o'er the Schoolmaster,  
What Gentlemen cries he forbear your speed,  
I have a charge about me; pray take heed,  
I trust you will not rob me: out he flies;  
I to entreat him followed: whilst he cries  
Hang out your lights, Good people, else these Rogues  
Will rifle here the best of Pedagogues:  
Good Sir refrain these ecstasies quoth I,  
Nor thus abandon civil Company.  
My charge, my charge cries he, my charge is lost,  
A Mark or near't: was ever man so crossed?  
Thus I pursued him to the fury's door,  
The fatal House from whence we came before,  
Where by the Candlelight we might perceive  
His Eyeballs from their stations taking leave.  
Thus did we leave him half dissolved with fear,  
And back to Spurstow we that night repair.  
Early next morning ere I could arise,  
Thrice that prodigious Bear did me surprise,  
Thrice was I forced to turn that substance o'er,  
Till rest became as needful as before,  
Yet not permitted me: enforced to leave  
My sweet repose, full goblets to receive  
Of flowing liquour; liquour that might raise  
Strains more sublime to speak the founder's praise,  
Whose noble Breast so rare a soul inherits,  
Mirrors of sweetness equal to his Merits,  
And may a world of happiness pursue  
His noble House which now we bid adieu.  
Still his oblieging presence we retain,  
And back to Bunbury we march again,  
Where long our wandering fancies could not bide,  
But for a frolic in the evening tide,  
Removed to Northwich nine miles distant, where  
With lusty Sack we did our spirits cheer,  
Our suppers ended, and our brains well tried,  
A brace of Beds convenient did provide  
Both in a room; we hugged our needful rest  
Whilst either Wine or weariness oppressed  
Our drowsy senses: but not long our eyes  
We soon disclose, and make Obedience rise  
To give attendance; stools instead of Drums  
Struck up th' Alarum; till at last she comes  
Whereat we all our loathed Beds forsake,  
And through the house a match of rambling make:  
Room after Room we search resoved to see  
Our Landlord with his Wife in Geminy  
As we supposed they were; thus in we go,  
But she denied and vowed it was not so:  
Well he replies sweet heart be not afraid,  
Thy due beneu'lence shall be justly paid,  
And shall it so? (then Fletcher cries) make room  
Between ye both, there I to bed must come,  
A weak resistance proving vain he in  
To bed did step, and twixt them did begin  
A health to their performance on each side  
His place resigned was by the next supplied,  
Till all had pledged this jolly health, and then  
We all agree to take our restsagen,  
Betimes next morning with the Sun we rise  
All deadly sick with last night's exercise,  
With looks dejected every thirsty soul,  
Doth his afflicted brother's Case Condole,  
Till at the length we did ourselves assure  
What wrought the Malady would work the Cure,  
Applauding what the 
d Bishop Andrews in praise of Ale.  learned Father taught  
The virtue of a plenteous morning's draught:  
Now little Mallary did our Tribe Augment  
With whom we sound the cellars deep descent,  
Health upon Health, Cup upon Cup we ply,  
The Tavern rung with our confused joy,  
Not overlong it being Market day,  
We of the Town did take a short survey:  
And thence to Daneham two miles off repair,  
There drink, and what we left unfinished there,  
Perform at Middlewich, where we that night  
Arrive, but how I could not here recite,  
Were't not for two occasions which befell  
In this day's journey most remarkable: viz.  
As hence we posted at a speedy rate,  
I sadly troubled with the poet's fate,  
Ill Horst, lagged after, doubtful which to choose  
For losing them I needs myself must lose,  
And piss I must: there hast my stay forbid,  
So I pursued them pissing as I rid:  
A handsome girl before me makes a stand,  
As I rid on, my whynyard in my hand.  
Now out, upon ye Sir: what's that I see?  
O be n't ashamed sweet heart? troth you may be.  
Of what? its posture. Mistress I presume  
To serve you 'twould a better form assume:  
Haste now denies me time farewell; but yet  
Your new acquaintance pray ye not forget:  
He's at your Service, and who knows but fate  
Your familiarity may renovate?  
Next (sad remembrance) was a fatal fall  
Where Horse and man, and man and Horse and all  
Fell to the ground, my Horse above the ears,  
Above the elbows I in dirt appears,  
Sadly bedabled, not at all ashamed,  
Rather in me a haughty spirit it framed:  
For entering th' Town I forced a man to stand,  
And with obeisance kiss my dirty hand.  
Hence to our Inn: noise flies about the Town,  
Gallants are come, 'mongst whom Ben Johnson's one,  
(so Spurstow called me) how! a third replies,  
If Ben be there 'tis time for us to rise,  
He'll scare them from their wits where ere they go,  
Then sure 'tis he; for they're already so.  
Whilst Rumor thus reports our boon arrive,  
We overhead in monstrous flagons dive,  
Till overcharged of sense and friends bereft,  
Poor harmless I upon a Bed was left.  
What then worth notice past my brains so wet,  
Must needs be pardoned if I do forget:  
For some report that we a supper had,  
Wherein I must confess, my memory's bad;  
Yes, and that I thereon did freely feed:  
Pardon, sweet Host, I knew not what I did;  
Wakening, I assayed to stand; me thought with ease  
My feet perambulate th' Antipodes,  
Seeking to go, I imitate the Sun,  
When he in his diurnal course doth run;  
Whereat enraged, and amazed, I swore  
That Fates had turned me perpendicular;  
My head descends, and like a Meteor flies  
Through fleeting air, I foot the arched skies.  
But stay, I am encompassed with a roof,  
I feel the walls, and come from bed for sooth,  
And fain would find't again, but that alas,  
I sought about and knew not where it was.  
And still the more I search, the more I'm led  
Through darksome entries, black Enigma's thread,  
Whereat I stamped, and swore I was crept in  
The Labyrinth where Minotaur had been,  
Hopeless of restauration, crying, where  
Is faithful Phaedra, Ariadne near?  
When lo at last, most welcome one appears,  
Take heed, your worship's tumbling down the stairs.  
In fine, the rest, which I two hours had sought,  
Obtained, again I to the bed was brought,  
Whereon ere I could hardly close mine eyes,  
We are informed again, 'tis time to rise;  
For that most Noble Manwaring had then  
Vouchsafed a visit to the Gentlemen; 
Manwaring of Bostok,   
Whose courteous favours, if my pen forget,  
May I in shames black Catalogue be set.  
For base Ingratitude, in which 'tis said  
All Crimes and Vices are at once displayed.  
No time delayed; but up they all arose,  
I shortly after, mocked with a repose,  
With all celerity forsook my rest,  
And shook my ears, no sooner up but dressed.  
And hence we went to please a various mind,  
Where every Woodcock on a Woodcock dined.  
What next we acted, few men understood,  
Being half distracted, mad with foolish food;  
Fletcher and Spurstowe, with young Mallery,  
Maintain a combat 'gainst poor Jack and I,  
And whilst brave Mallery on the table fought  
Op'e stood the Casement, whilst I striving sought  
To pull him down, he less himself amends;  
For out the window he from them, descends.  
I fearing's hurt, looked after him, and thought  
To call for help, when by the heels I'm caught,  
And after him sent; partaker of his fate,  
To wish me back 'twas quickly grown too late,  
Whilst both supposed we by our falls should die,  
But 'twas not so, we fell so dextrously,  
Excelling Airey Hope, or Pudding's slight:  
For like to Cats, on hands and feet we light,  
Nor feared, nor hurt, insensible of pain,  
We rise and breath, and to't we fall again.  
Two hours this lasted, till in fine made friends  
With Ale which Caesar's comments so commends.  
He whose great Pompy's Eagles did subdue, 
A word for Als.   
He who but came and looked and overthrew  
Yet still assirm, proceeding ages will,  
His conquering sword was conquered by his Quill.  
Ale, thy rare vertuses, and thy sacred use,  
Is th'glorious subject of his crowned Muse.  
I'll not relate what afterwards befell;  
But here we bid brave Manwaring farewell,  
And little Mallery: hence we undertake  
A three miles' journey, for our horses' sake,  
For them no further we that night compel,  
They did but little, but they did it well;  
For on the Road an inn we found, and there  
A boon and bounteous Host, indifferent Beer,  
Who us before our money did regard,  
So he with us in every pottle shared:  
For what for four pence they to others sold,  
Afforded us for three, and swore 't should hold  
Whilst we remained there; to't we sat that night,  
Till bright Aurora put the stars to flight.  
And then, as we prepared to go away,  
Comes Erswick's Minshul, and procures our stay,  
With him re-entering, there we drink again,  
Till only one half barrel did remain,  
Which we resolve at one health to drink up,  
And for that purpose found a Posset cup,  
Environed with black handles round about,  
Which held four Flagons justly measured ouu.  
This monstrous dish we drink, of sable hue,  
Horrendum dictu; but by— 'tis true.  
Now bound for Namptwich, without lets or stays,  
O'er hedge and ditch, to'voyd the fouler ways;  
At length arriving near the place where late  

f The King's Army being routed there  A thousand Gallant souls received their fate.  
Here we alighted in the Towns survey,  
And till their Preachment's past resolved to stay;  
During which time, by chance there happened to be  
Two brethren of Saint Hugh's fraternity,  
With me disposed to quarrel; till the one  
Recants, and cries, to you I am unknown:  
Brave ' Squire Starky (thus for him mistook  
He Spurstow) but were Spurstow here, he'd look  
More favourably, and him defend from harms;  
He oft had hugged the Booby in his arms:  
And sure he was, he'd free him from abuses.  
Spurstow begins, and thus himself accuses:  
Spurstow's an Ass, a base ignoble slave,  
I long since lent him money; which to have  
I now despair: how much was't, he requires;  
But forty shillings; only my desires  
Are these, to have thee beat him for't sometime,  
And here behold the moiety is thine.  
Sir, let me see him; I will do the deed,  
Though he in strength, or stature should exceed  
The great Goliath; here's the man will do't,  
I'll bring his neck beneath your worship's foot.  
Then here's thy money; now prepare thy hands,  
And here, behold where little Spurstow stands:  
Hereat the valiant young man's valour's quailed,  
Throws down the money, lest he be assailed  
By us, and beaten; to a Chamber by  
He quits the room, and there takes sanctu'ry,  
There rests secure, when he that hold had gained,  
Bolted within, without the key remained:  
And that he might more safely there abide,  
We locked him in, and thence with th' key did ride.  
Nearer the Town an inn we sought; in fine,  
We found a Reverend Host, more reverend Sign,  
Which to the view in ample distance spreads,  
Such as imaginarily the heads  
Of many new-bred Nobles, oft adorns,  
And frequently in English, called The Horns.  
Here we alighted, and resolved to sup,  
There, though the lodgings were before ta'en up.  
Much taken with our Host's boon merriment:  
Bedless that night we rather are content  
To stay, then enter th' clamorous town, much more  
We'd rest that night, as we the night before  
Had done: the night we shorten, being long,  
With wine and mirth; sometimes John Dory's song.  
Thus till the travellers for their march prepared,  
We drank and sung, and then their places shared.  
Spurstow and I a little stayed behind,  
The rest afore unto a place designed  
To take our parting tap-lash; for our way  
Lay through the town where Spurstow bids me stay,  
There at the Holy Lamb we ' lighted down,  
Which might be styled the emblem of the Town:  
For what more proper simile may be,  
Compared to painted outside sanctity:  
Or who more fitly can such zeal define,  
A house of riot, and a sacred Sign.  
Here, to avoid prolixity of time,  
Five pints apiece of brisk Canary wine  
We drank to friends, but chiefly he to one,  
To me most dear, although to him unknown,  
Which made the favour double; then came in  
The Mistress pint, that drunk, we did begin,  
To think of Fletcher, who by this, though 't's long,  
When lo a voice amidst the ruder throng  
Called Spurstow, Spurstow; turn again, come hither,  
He wanting second thoughts, turned, and went thither,  
Where being come a Matron grave appears,  
One who for beauty aged Sibils years,  
Might well example; but for impudence,  
and vicious acts, with Circe might commence,  
Then with a compliment, old as herself, she brought  
A Jack with silver tipped, and at a draught  
O'er turned it, though the Jack contained a quart.  
Then gives it him; here boy, observe my art.  
Now heavens protect me, this upon our Wine!  
She'll circle-like transform us both to Swine.  
And beldame for thy favour take this curse;  
The pox confound thee, or some plague that's worse.  
Thus parted noble Spurstow with his train,  
Fletcher and I to Marbury march again.  
Some business of the first day's left undone,  
Where we remember our companions gone,  
Past Acts recount, as loath to part we fit,  
And all that tedious night we frolic it:  
This my fourth night, and Fletcher's third, since we  
our clothes put off, or any sheets did see.  
So in the morn appearing, you might then  
Behold a brace of parboiled Gentlemen,  
Like cattle standing at Avernus' brink,  
Even dead with thirst, yet daring not to drink.   

Now farewell dearest Fletcher, let's give over,  
'Tis time to try, can we our sense recover,  
And what my soul to Spurstow renders due,  
Thrice noble Fletcher, must return to you;  
And pray that heaven may ever let me see,  
A bliss on you, and your Posterity;  
So to his wishes fortune condescend,  
Whose life's your servant, and whose faith's your friend.   
BEN. FRANCIS.   

Postscript.  
Critics, excuse the rudeness of my stile,  
Perchance my Muse could better Verse compile.  
But here my pen presumes to be as free,  
As was our noble Gallant Company;  
Nor say I have your tired sense abused  
Being over tedious, since 'tis thus excused.  
The Ramble's long, and those that did it see,  
Confess I have affected brevity.  
Then howsoe'er my Verse by you's approved,  
Doubt not, but 'tis by better Wits beloved.   

A Recantation.  

1.  
YE false deluding joys terrestrial,  
Your fond Temptations I despise;  
My thoughts are soaring to a celestial,  
And never fading Paradise.  
Wherefore farewell  
Ye steps to Hell,  
Your flattering paths I'll tread no more,  
Nor your false vanities adore.   

2.  
Base world, amongst the worst I rank thee,  
of ills that e'er created were,  
As yet I ne'er had cause to thank thee.  
Thy smiles but base delusions are,  
Which since I scorned,  
To frowns they turned;  
But thus thy injuries I'll retort,  
Detesting to be made thy sport.   

3.  
'Tis true, I doted on thy pleasures,  
And thy alluring treachery;  
My soul betrayed in horrid measures  
To honour thy impiety,  
But now I see  
Thy slavery,  
I bid farewell to all thy joys,  
And these my most loved vanities.   

4.  
Farewell my Dear, my Boon Companions,  
Farewell, Eternally adieu;  
And for the favours which were many ones,  
And loves I always gained from you,  
I thanks return  
To you, and mourn  
The precious time we spent in vain,  
Which now I'll labour to regain.   

5.  
By you my company was prized,  
And far beyond its worth esteemed,  
So I your joys have idolised,  
And equal to the blessed deemed;  
But since our love  
Did often prove  
A lewd debauchery in the end,  
I'll to diviner thoughts attend.   

6.  
And you, fair Virgins, who resemble  
The brightness of the radiant skies,  
With whom I oft did thus dissemble,  
And heavens created in your eyes;  
A fairer now,  
My thoughts pursue,  
And pure devotions duly pay  
To one whose splendours ne'er decay.   

7.  
Yet pray mistake not lovely fair ones,  
Your beauties I do still admire,  
And bear due Reverence to the Rare ones  
Of your most sweet selected choir;  
For, when I view  
Those forms in you,  
My breast with admiration fills  
Of your creator's heavenly skills.   

8.  
And now to you that are devoted,  
Alone to serve the Deity;  
And to that happiness promoted,  
To wait upon the Trinity,  
I come, I come,  
Vouchsafe me room,  
Where I with you my offerings may  
Before the sacred Altar lay   

9  
Where though this earth our feet retaineth,  
Our souls surmount the starry skies,  
And in that blessed estate remaineth,  
Adoring of the Mysteries;  
And though 't appear  
We wander here,  
And breath from this dull air receive,  
Yet Aliens to the world we live.   
FINIS.