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V.

In all affairs of church or state
He very zealous is, and able,
Devout at pray'rs, and fits up late
At the cabal and council-table.
His very dog, at council-board,
Sits grave and wife as any lord.

VI.

Let Charles's policy no man flout,
The wisest Kings have all fome folly;
Nor let his piety any doubt;

Charles, like a Sov'reign, wife and holy, Makes young men judges of the bench, And bishops, those that love a wench..

VII.

His father's foes he does reward,

Preferving those that cut off's head;
Old cavaliers, the crown's best guard,
He lets them starve for want of bread.
Never was any King endow'd
With so much grace and gratitude.

VIII.

Blood, that wears treason in his face,
Villain compleat in parson's gown,
How much is he at court in grace,
For stealing Ormond and the crown!
Since loyalty does no man good,
Let's steal the King, and out-do Blood.

IX.

A Parliament of knaves and fots

(Members by name you must not mention) He keeps in pay, and buys their votes, Here with a place, there with a pension:

When to give money he can't cologue 'em,
He does with scorn prorogue, prorogue 'em.

X.

But they long fince, by too much giving,
Undid, betray'd, and fold the nation,
Making their memberships a living,

Better than e'er was sequestration.
God give thee, Charles, a refolution
To damn the knaves by dissolution.

XL

Fame is not grounded on success,
Tho' victories were Cæfar's glory;
Loft battles make not Pompey less,
But left him filed great in story.
Malicious fate does oft devise
To beat the brave, and fool the wife.

XII.

Charles in the first Dutch war stood fair
To have been Sov'reign of the deep,
When Opdam blew up in the air,

Had not his Highness gone to fleep :
Our fleet flack'd fails, fearing his waking,
The Dutch had else been in sad taking.

XIII.

The Bergen business was well laid,

Tho' 'we paid dear for that design;

Had we not three days parling staid,

The Dutchofleet there, Charles, had been

thine:

Tho' the false Danc agreed to fell 'em,
He cheated us, and faved Skellum.

XIV. Had XIV.

Had not Charles sweetly chous'd the States,

By Bergen-baffle grown more wife;

2

And made 'em shit as small as rats,

By their rich Smyrna fleet's surprise:
Had haughty Holmes, but call'd in Spragg,

Hans had been put into a bag.

XV.

Mists, storms, short victuals, adverse winds,

:

And once the navy's wife divifion,

Defeated Charles's best designs,

'Till he became his foes derifion: But he had swing'd the Dutch at Chatham, Had he had ships but to come at 'em.

XVI.

Our Black-Heath host, without dispute,
(Rais'd, put on board, why? no man knows)

Muft Charles have render'd abfolute
Over his fubjects, or his foes:
Has not the French King made us fools,
By taking Maestricht with our tools ?

XVII.4

But Charles, what could thy policy be,
To run so many fad disasters;

To join thy fleet with false d'Estrees

To make the French of Holland masters ? Was't Carewell, brother James, or Teague, That made thee break the Triple League ?

XVIII.

Could Robin Viner have foreseen

The glorious triumphs of his master; The Wool-Church statue Gold had been, Which now is made of Alabaster.

But

T

But wife men think had it been wood,
'Twere for a bankrupt King too good.

XIX.

Those that the fabric well confider.
Do of it diversly discourse;
Some pass their censure on the rider,
Others their judgment on the horse.
Most say, the steed's a goodly thing,
But all agree, 'tis a lewd King.

XX.

By the lord mayor and his grave coxcombs,
Freeman of London, Charles is made;
Then to Whitehall a rich Gold box comes,
Which was bestow'd on the French jade §:
But wonder not it should be so, firs,
When Monarchs rank themselves with Grocers.

ΧΧΙ.

:

Cringe, scrape no more, ye city-fops,
Leave off your feasting and fine speeches;
Beat up your drums, shut up your shops,
The courtiers then will kiss your breeches.
Arm'd, tell the Popish Duke that rules,
You're free-born subjects, not French mules.

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New upstarts, bastards, pimps, and whores,
That, locuft-like, devour the land,
By shutting up th'Exchequer-doors,
When there our money was trapann'd,
Have render'd Charles's restoration
But a small blessing to the nation.

The Duchess of Portsmouth.

XXIII. Then,

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Then, Charles, beware thy brother York,
Who to thy government gives law;
If once we fall to the old sport,

You must again both to Breda;
Where, spite of all that would restore you,
Grown wife by wrongs, we should abhor you.

ΧΧιν.

If, of all Christian blood the guilt
Cries loud of vengeance unto Heav'n,
That fea by treach'rous Lewis spilt,
Can never be by God forgiv'n :
Worse scourge unto his subjects, lord!
Than pest'lence, famine, fire, or sword.

XXV.

That false rapacious wolf of France,
The scourge of Europe, and its curse,
Who at his subjects cries does dance,

And studies how to make them worse;
To say such Kings, Lord, rule by thee,
Were most prodigious blafphemy.

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Such know no law, but their own lust;
Their subjects substance, and their blood,
They count it tribute due and just,
Still spent and spilt for subjects good.
If such Kings are by God appointed,
The devil may be the Lord's anointed.

XXVII.

:

Such Kings! curs'd be the pow'r and name,
Let all the world henceforth abhor 'em;
Monsters, which knaves sacred proclaim,
And then, like slaves, fall down before 'em.

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