Never did bold knight errant, to relieve Distressed dames, such dreadful feats atchieve, As feeble damfels for his fake
Would have been proud to undertake,
And bravely ambitious to redeem
The World's lofs and their own,
Strove who fhould have the honour to lay down,
And change a life with him :
But finding all their hopes in vain,
To move his fixt determin'd fate,
They life itself began to hate,
And all the world befide difdain :
Made loud appeals and moans
To lefs hard-hearted grates and ftones;
Came fwell'd with fighs, and drown'd in tears,
To yield themselves his fellow-fufferers,
And follow'd him like prisoners of war,
Chain'd to the lofty wheels of his triumphant cart
Good Advice in bad Times.
OWZE up, great Charles! thy courage show,
Or faction foon will bring thee low :
Some must be banish'd, others fwing,
Or thou must cease to be a king.
No credit give to villain Oats,
Be not amus'd with Popish plots;
No foreign troops of pilgrims fear,
Nor Popish armies in the air;
But guard thy throne against the bafe
Defigns of thofe that boaft of grace,
And plead thereby, as times go now,
A better right to rule than thou.
Take care of Tony and his party,
They are the rogues that mean to hurt thee.
The Tories love thee and obey thee,
None but the rebel Whigs betray thee,
The stubborn wicked spawn of thofe
That ftruggl'd for the good old cause,
Till they thy royal fire fubdu'd,
And in his blood their hands imbru'd;
These are the only fnakes that fting thee
And if not crush'd will foon unking thee;
For thou haft warm'd them till they bite thee,
The way they always will requite thee.
Therefore look round thy court, good prince,
And banish all fuch ferpents thence.
Mercy, that attribute divine,
Hath been thy father's fault and thine;
His clemency and goodness coft
Himself and fubjects all they loft;
And thine, if thou wilt ftill restrain
Thy juftice, will abridge thy reign;
For Whigs believe that mercy fprings
Alone from cowardice in kings;
And therefore but infult the more,
When princes moderate their pow'r.
Banish thy fpurious fon the land,
Let him no more thy troops command;
Withdraw thy fondnefs from the fool,
Thy darling, but the party's tool;
A fencing, riding, cringing thing,
That courts the mob to make him king,
An empty, dancing, fiery bauble,
Ador'd by ftrumpets and the rabble;
The ladies idol at a ball,
The stallion of thy court Whitehall;
Who got, great Charles, by thee, retains
Thy princely luft, but wants thy brains,
Which makes fome think when you contented
His mother, that your head diffented,
And that's the cause the foppifh ape
Has nothing of thee but thy fhape.
Beware of thofe that ferve the crown.
And yet in publick cry thee down',".
Who fneak and fawn about thy perfon,
But tamper with thy foolish whorefon,
And by falfe arguments enfnare
The youth to think he is thy heir,
When thou thyself muft own there's one
Much nearer than a bastard fon;
Therefore if thou art wife, in fpight
Of Whigs, affert thy Brother's right,
For if thou doft their humours please,
They'll queftion thine as well as his.
Be watchful of the factious city,
Who hate thee, tho' they often treat thee.
Hug clofe their wives, get loyal heirs,
For fheriffs, aldermen, and may'rs ;
Make cuckolds of the wealthy crew,
And, like Sir Robert, knight 'em too.
Thus kifs their ladies, like a king,
And keep 'em poor by borrowing;
A fpeedier way to raife fupplies,
Than all thy council can advise,
Now faction rules the commons house,
And fwear they'll give thee not a foufe,
'Caufe Portsmouth fends o'er guinea pies
To France, or else the publick lies:
And Nelly lives in greater state,
Than thy own royal confort Kate.
Therefore, great Charles! if thou would'st please
Thy foes, turn off thy miftreffes,
And then the parliament, they fay,
Will grant thee fums without delay.
But fure thy wifdom muft foreknow,
That if you condefcend fo low,
To live or reign as they would have thee,
They'd make fuch laws as fhould enflave thee;
Still keep thee poor, be finding fault,
Complain, but give thee not a groat;
Be therefore careful how you grant
Too large conceffions in your want;
No branch of royal power fell,
Give 'em an inch they'll take an ell.
Thou knowft they only want to bring thee
To what will ruin and unking thee;
And then thou❜lt, like thy father, find
The fad effects of being kind
To faction, who intend no other
Than to deftroy thee and thy brother.
Since these are the rebellious drifts
Of those that put thee to thy fhifts,
Exert thy pow'r deriv'd of God,
And make them tremble at thy nod;
Boldly affert thy right divine,
And lop those heads that aim at thine,
Or thou wilt find the fons of those
That were thy father's reftlefs foes
Will to deftruction drive or lead thee,
And all the Stuarts that fucceed thee;
For root and branch work is their aim
Which they'll compleat, unless the fame.
Severity be us'd with them.
Then learn of Harry to chastise
Thy stubborn factious enemies,
And keep thy p------s in awe,
With ftamp of foot and threatning bah!
Or else the c- -swill in time
Above their royal fov'reign climb :
And England boaft, when thou'rt undone,
Five hundred kings instead of one.
The Character of a Fanatick.
N London ftreets is often seen
A hum-drum faint whose holy mein
Denotes the proud enthusiastick
To be religioufly fantastick;
His looks most primitively wear
An ancient Abrahamick air;
And, like bad copies of a face,
The good original difgrace:
A hawks-bill nofe divides his cheeks,
And tunes his cant whene'er he speaks,
Whilft on his breast one hand he lays,
That fools may credit what he fays;
Tho' int'reft always bribes his tongue,
To reprefent things right or wrong,
And is the loadstone that attracts
The faint to all he speaks or acts.
As beauty draws the am'rous youth
To fwear repugnant to the truth,
And, zealot like, to grace his lies
With upcaft looks and feigned fighs.
His head ftands mounted on a neck
As ftubborn as a poft or stake,
That will not fuff'r 'im to bow down
To altar, miter, or the crown,
Affirming ftiffly, they're no more
Than trappings of the fcarlet whore :
Yet has a joint that always bends
When 'tis to gain his own by-ends.
Thus when there's nothing to be gǝt
Submiffion is a deadly fau't;
But upon e'ery new occafion,
When int'reft is the grand temptation,
Then confcience gives a difpenfation.
His coat, whole colour is moft gravé,
Yet carries in its fleeve a knave;
Tho' new, derives its ancient fashion
From good old times of reformation,
When blunderbufs and basket-hilt
More blood than fire and faggot fpilt,
And zealots, by diffenfion civil,
Got th' upper-hand of pope and devil.
His hat, whofe penthouse brims fecure
His formal weeds from rainy fhow'r,
Hangs on his occiput moft quaintly,
To make the knave appear more faintly
And from the fight of back beholders,
Skreens his long neck and fooping fhoulders.
His hair in greasy locks hangs down
'As ftrait as candles, from his crown,
And fhades the borders of his face,
Whofe outward figns of inward grace
Are only visible in fpightful
Grimaces, very ftern and frightful;
As if he thought no man could be
A zealous foe to Popery,
Except his looks declare his malice
To altar, candlesticks, and chalice.
The band he wears is very broad,
Exceeding far the common mode,
Juft fuch as Knipperdolin wore
On doublet-collar heretofore,
When e'ery madman that could cant
Of faving grace, was thought a faint,
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