A BALLAD.
I Sing the praise of a worthy Wight,
Whose Father (— —) that never wou'd Fight,
For his Face, but more for his A— made a Knight.
With a fa la la la la la la.
This Knight soon after à Duke became,
And got at the Island
Rhee such a Fame,
That all true
English Curs'd
B—:
With, &c.
That Idol Duke to that Greatness did Swell,
That Honours and Riches before him Fell,
Till
F— the Brave sent his Soul to Hell:
With, &c.
And now you shall hear how his Mighty Son,
With that very small Sin of Incest begun,
And then to Treason and Buggery went on:
With, &c.
For the Incest, Old
R— can tell when and where;
For the Treason, the Papers of Old
Oliver,
And
K—Arse knows his Buggerer:
With, &c.
Now he who so Bravely and Nobly begins,
Must afterwards think when such Glory he wins,
Adultery and Treason but Trivial Sins:
With, &c.
For
S— C—t lost this Nation more
Brave men than ever were Killed before,
Or shall be hereafter for such a Damn'd Wh—
With, &c.
More Seed has been Spilt in her Nauseous Womb,
Of all Nations, all Sorts from the Prince to the Groom,
Then Martyrs Blood for the Church of
Rome:
With, &c.
Yet he that will after her Beastly Life hunt,
May Swear and Venture his Soul upon't,
She has nothing Catholick but her C—t:
With, &c.
The Pox upon Pox has Eaten by Bits
His T—, yet so well her purpose it Fits,
That he Fathers the Children
Doughty Begets:
With, &c.
And now I have done with that Rampant Whore,
And that Sink her C—t which is Cannon Bore,
But his Grace F—ks oftner Behind than Before:
With, &c.
I come to his Farce, which must needs be well done,
For
Troy was not longer before it was won,
Since 'tis more than 10 years since first 'twas begun:
With, &c.
Yet gathering from Plays, Pimps, and Table Chatt,
With the Help of his own Canonical
S—,
And his Family Scribe, Antichristian
M—:
With, &c.
With Transcribing of that, and Transcribing of those,
With Transmitting of Verse, and Transfusing of Prose,
He hath drest on his Farce with other mens Cloaths:
With, &c.
His Abusing the Living, and Robbing the Dead,
His Inserting Fine Things which other men said,
Makes his own way Writing without Tail or Head:
With, &c.
But where the Devil his own Wit doth ly,
They must have very good Eyes that can Spy,
Unless in the Dances and Mimikry:
With, &c.
I confess the Dances were very well Writ,
And the Tune and the Time by
Haynes as well Hit,
And
Littlewood's Motion and Dress had much Wit:
With, &c.
But when his Poet
John Bayes did appear,
'Tis known to more than half that were there,
The greatest part was his own Character:
With, &c.
For he many years Plagu'd his Friends for their Crimes,
With Repeating his Verses and other mens Rhymes,
To the very same Persons ten thousand Times:
With, &c.
Then his Grace has Tormented the Players more,
Than the
Howards and
Fleckno, and all the store
Of Damn'd Dull Rogues they were Plagu'd with before:
With, &c.
At last Learned
B— though it Fi
[...],
To tell us the Ancients wanted Wit,
For he easily understood all they had Writ:
With, &c.
But sure he said this in the Heat of his Blood,
For if what the Ancients have Written be Good,
'Tis in Languages he ne'r yet Understood:
With, &c.
When in
France, and in
Spain, and in
Holland 'tis known,
What mighty Wonders our Statesman has done;
'Twill make 'um all Tremble to hear his Renown:
With, &c.
For he that can Libel our Poets, and knows
How to Mimick our Players in Gesture and Cloaths,
With ease can Destroy all His Majesties Foes:
With, &c.
Now the Church he Contemns as much as the
Quaker,
The Kingdom he'd ruine if the Parliament forsake her,
For he Serves his King as well as his Maker:
With, &c.
For he that Forsook him in all His Distress,
Kill'd the Husband, and Keeps the Adulteress,
Like
Judas, would Sell him, and Sell him for Less:
What, &c.
He has Mimick'd the King and Duke o'er and o'er,
That Merciful King who has Pardon'd more,
Than all our Kings e'er Pardon'd before:
With, &c.
That King who if ever Committed a Crime,
Which to Church or State may be Fatal in time,
It was in Extending his Mercy to Him:
With, &c.
Now God grant His Majesty never may find,
'Tis Fatal to be to a
B— Kind,
For his Father was ruin'd by what he Design'd:
With a fa la la la la la la.
FINIS.