POOR ROBINS DREAM, OR THE VISIONS OF HELL: WITH A DIALOGUE Between the Two GHOSTS OF Dr. T. and Capt. B.
LONDON: Printed by M.S. MDCLXXXI.
POOR ROBINS DREAM, OR THE Visions of Hell.
WHen th'charming News had passed
Charing-Cross,
And they depos'd, that would dismount that Horse.
The Senators their hated patience forc't,
As
Thames once for
Sempronia stopt her course.
Like Boys that were just from a Vineyard skar'd,
All stood amaz'd, but never a word was heard.
But when they found they were pursu'd by none,
But th' Master stood only to keep his own.
They then unto their wonted passion flew,
And swore they'd prove those Grapes to be their due,
Next time they came they'd have the Master too
I'th City. All their steady-Heads they tost,
Like Wives at
Billingsgate, when a good Bargain's lost.
Ballads of grief about the Town they sent,
As if they lost a Loyal Parliament.
Such clam'rous Consternations, with false Cryes,
Enough to tear great
Jove down from the Skies.
None daring to confront those Factious Atheists,
Dreading that scand'lous Name they call,
Church-Papist.
Then I e'ne laid me down upon my Bed,
Where sundry Contemplations seiz'd my troubled Head.
In a trembling Trance I on a sudden fell,
Wherein I saw that damned Den call'd
Hell.
Where ten thousand Scenes, with Legions of black Fiends,
Of burning Rebels, there they made their Skreens.
Old
Noll and
Bradshaw, Ireton and
Pride,
Burning like Beacons; on the other side
Then perjur'd Rogues, drawn up in arched Rings,
Their Tongues like Serpents, shew'd their flaming Stings,
Thought I, Is this the fruit of killing Kings?
When that Scene chang'd, methought I clearly saw,
A solemn Conventicle groan out yells of woe.
Their Hats pinn'd to their heads with fiery Nails,
Their Ears drawn out as large as
Spanish Frails.
Their Eyes like oval Lanthorns; glowing Rouls,
Or flaming Flambois, from their treach'rous Souls.
Their Mouths unto their ugly Ears were drawn,
Spirits froth'd out, like poyson'd, foul Frog-spawn.
[Page 2]Upon their Backs was writ in bloud, I see,
Damn'd for Rebellion and Hypocrisie.
'Mongst this prodigious and confused throng,
The Holder forth was called Dr.
Tonge;
Who so excell'd,
Hugh Peters being there▪
That he was forc'd to fall into the Rear.
Till interposed by a Champion stout,
With flaming Sword made way through th' hellish Rout.
B.
And cry'd to
T. thou damned Orator,
Thou art the cause of my Soul burning here.
T.
Why what wast thou when first I did thee know?
But one condemn'd for Robbery by the Law.
B.
Why what wast thou poor Fool in Forty one?
But a poor Weaver then leapt from thy Loom.
Then stept into a Tub to preach Sedition,
And took the Covenant for thy Commission.
Which thou pursu'd till all the
Rump was ruin'd,
And
Charles return'd, and to his Right resum'd.
And then thou made a Breech of thy own Mouth,
Swore back again, but never preached truth,
And in thy Age, more treach'rous, than in youth.
T.
That cannot be imputed perjury,
To swear for those that rule by tyranny.
Or for any else, as Times may turn by fits,
That's but a knack of living by ones wits.
But I ne're rob'd upon the King's High-way,
Nor boasted on't unto my Friends next day.
Nor I ne're feign'd my self to be a Lord,
Nor pilfer'd Coyn without the help of Sword,
Nor ne're was proved perjur'd by Record.
B.
Thou damned Hell-hound, hast thou now forgot,
Who was so active in the Popish Plot?
'Twas thou that patcht up
O's Depositions,
And then deliver'd them without Commissions.
Which thou taught him pretend he had disperst,
Then thou thy self turn'd tails and was releast.
Yet still thou didst persevere in thy sin,
Taught
Tony and the rest to bring me in.
To meet you at Cabals, and
Foxes-hall,
Where I receiv'd my Lessons from you all.
You taught me what to speak, who to impeach,
All Loyallists you brought within my reach.
[Page 3]Both Queen and Duke I to the Block must bring,
Nay—had I liv'd, I must have peacht the K—
Now who's the cause of my Soul's suffering?
T.
All this I own was truth, and ten times more,
But thy black Soul was damned long before.
Thou hadst committed Murther, Theft and Rape,
So 'twas impossible thy Soul shou'd 'scape.
For hadst thou liv'd till each true string had twang'd,
Thou then hadst surely been both damn'd and hang'd.
B.
Thou splay-mouth'd Fiend, I hold thy words in scorn,
Thou deserv'dst hanging long e're I was born.
Thou and thy Brother
Baxter, Spawns of evil,
Who kept your correspondence with the Devil.
And spew'd your poyson over Three brave Nations,
And brought in
Oates to all their desolations.
The Devil taught you how to tutor
Cooper,
And
Belzebub himself his Over-looker.
One Paw upon the Tap holds in the Bong,
The other guides his tottering Head and Tongue.
And cryes, My
Tony thou shalt live to see
Englands destruction, and its Monarchy,
And my chief Engine,
Tony, thou shalt be.
And of all the Plots and Sham-plots thou art Father,
And all the Evidence thou'st patcht together;
For which Indulgence I'le inspire thee still,
And thus the Devil helps old
Machiavel.
T.
Why?
Tony was the cause of my Damnation,
It was his malice that enflam'd the Nation.
'Twas He, under pretence of doing good,
That squeez'd poor Innocents, and broacht their bloud.
'Twas He that made his
Grace a stalking Horse,
And hid himself behind his pocky Arse.
'Twas he that taught Tub-Preachers to seduce
The People, to choose Members for their use.
Such as in the late Rebellion play'd their parts,
And now are downright
Rumpers in their hearts.
To all the
Olivarians that are living,
His damned Documents he's daily giving.
'Tis He that all the Rebels now controuls,
For fear they should repent and save their souls.
Or rather that they may come boldly on,
By force of Arms to end what he begun.
Or else his Head must fly for what is past,
And's Tap must burst, to shew his soul is curst.
B.
For
Godfrey's death, 'twas thou perswaded me
To come in guilty; that black Perjury
Doth gnaw my soul in these infernal flames,
That guiltless bloud cryes vengeance through my veins,
And showrs upon me in perpetual streams.
I swore that of that Murther I did know
A man, that in my life I never saw,
Yet three mens Lives I took by perjur'd Law.
T.
Tony and
Godfrey's Brother that contriv'd,
To make the forged Plot the more believ'd.
The truth of which they never yet would tell,
Neither
Oates, nor us that's now in Hell.
If e're that stifled Murther be unvail'd,
Old
Tony's mouthing Gang will soon be quail'd.
And those Cabals which daily now devise,
As th' old one dyes, to make new Plots to rise.
They'l then disperse, lest they all be trapann'd,
And their wise heads forsake their souls that's damn'd.
B.
Thou now speak'st like a Subject when't's too late,
Or one that knew not what they would be at.
'Tis their ambition to be thrown in Gaols,
'Twould raise the Rout if
Habeas Corpus fails.
Then
Tony'l grin and prog about for Coin,
T'encourage his possessed herd of Swine.
Lurk in his hole to see 'em stave and tail,
But ne're come out, till he finds who'l prevail.
T.
When he was young, he never durst to fight,
But in malicious mischief took delight.
For when the Nation flow'd with bloud before,
Tony was always thirsting after more.
How many thousand pound this Plot has cost him,
To buy the blouds of those that never crost him?
When he has got poor Innocents condemn'd,
By his patcht Evidence, how eagerly he'l send
To those that have most int'rest in the Rout?
He'l hire them t'come to force the Prisoners out,
To see them sacrifice before his Snout.
Which they'l soon do, or else break down their hold;
For why, they're
Tony's Cattle bought and sold?
While they are butchering, old
Tony flears,
For more such Bargains, smells with both his ears.
Tony hir'd
Ar. for to cut's own Throat,
Ar. was cunning, did but half the Joke.
Yet kept his money, and remain'd his debter,
And promis'd him the Lives of some was better.
[Page 5]Tho'
Tony's sides have several teer of holes,
He lusts after bodies, as the Devil after souls.
For if e're this trade of
Papist-hanging's ended,
He'le bring in
Presbyter and
Independent.
Both
Care and
Curtis, Smith and pillor'd
Ben,
After the best, he'le hang the worst of men.
All that his Pate hath drawn in to support him,
He'le hang them all, if Fate do ever thwart him.
Both Lords and Evidence that's now for him,
Nay perhaps his
Grace, who now he's making K—
Or those who all this prosecution commence,
He can hang them with the same Evidence.
Should we have liv'd till such a Change broke forth,
To save himself he would have hang'd us both.
He's such a Knave, and they such silly Elves,
When he has a mind, he'le make'um hang themselves.
B.
Heart, Bloud and Wounds, wou'd he have hang'd up
Bedlow?
Oh—that my Lady Mother did but know—
That cursed Cannibal? had I liv'd two years longer,
I'de have hang'd him, that rotten damn'd Whoremonger.
Let's out of Hell, the Porter we can bribe,
We'le bring him
Tony's soul, or some of that damn'd Tribe.
We'le tell the K—that
Tony is the cause
Of all this plotting, and subverting Laws.
That
Tony is so treacherous and so apish,
That he's the head of all the plotting
Papists.
For 'twas his Plot, and none but he contriv'd it,
And he's the Rogue that ever since reviv'd it.
Each Prison round the Town he searches duly
For Evidence, to recommend to
Rowly.
But takes such pains to teach each Tool its Chapter,
As a man to make a Spaniel Dog a Setter.
Which must impeach Bishop and Judges too,
And all that for the K—withstand his Crew.
The Courtiers he corrupts till they're discarded,
Then by his Tribe for him they must be guarded.
While he sits at the helm to guide Sedition,
All legal Laws he counts meer Superstition.
He sits environ'd round with Brother-Vipers,
Who imitates his Nods like
Scotch Bag-pipers.
Pendent and
Bitter, and Mare-frigging
Quaker,
Keep time,
Tony, that brave Law Bear-baiter.
For he united them to stand together,
'Gainst all that's Lawful, Loyal, or whatever
That's direct opposition to the Crown,
To pull the Bishop and Monarchy down.
But he illustrates his grave Dispute,
By quaint Objections, coyn'd against the
D—
'Gainst him his Bristles hath long time stood snarling,
Yet cannot spit his poyson beyond
Sterling.
[Page 6]Could He wrench out that Pillar of the State,
He thinks the rest would fall in's hands by fate,
What a graceful
Noll old
Tony then would make?
Just like a Monkey he'd become the Throne,
His Court Buffoons, and Pugs of the same Spawn.
Then
Tony would be sure that all's his own.
Could he perswade the K—to sell his Brother,
He'd never break his brains to find another.
To keep Sedition, and support the State,
Tony himself would be legitimate.
Let's give the K—this Caution, for 'tis true,
That he in time may know what's best to do.
With that a thundring noise their Contract broke,
The Den was darkned with infernal smoak.
Horror of yells and groans the Spirits strains,
Till on a sudden all flasht out in flames.
In which the Conventiclers sprawling cry'd,
For all Eternity must this abide?
With that a shower of Bloud fell down upon 'um,
In which they spew'd and stunk like Rebels, dam 'um▪
For 'twas the bloud of Innocents they'd drawn,
When they liv'd here, to make the King their own▪
Some of the Heads were hang'd up by the Tongues,
The rest the Devils pitch about with Prongues.
To make way for approaching great Procession,
Which howl'd and roar'd without an intermission.
Their Tongues hung out with Froth like lathering Soap,
These were the Rabble burning of the
Pope.
'Mongst whom were
Curtis, Harris, Smith and
Care,
The Scene was just like that at
Temple-bar.
Both
Pope and Pageants,
Jeffreys and the Friers,
But every step knee-deep in Bloud and Fires.
Of those that did support 'um and the Rout,
But there they roar'd, and here they us'd to shout.
Both Squibs and Crackers from their mouths did fly,
'Gainst Church and State they belcht out Blasphemy.
Their Skins were vail'd with
City-Mercuries,
Seditious Libels and their forged Lyes.
Which taking fire at once made such a smother,
Down fell the Pageants, Rout, and all together
Did sprawl and howl in that infernal Flame,
Then I awakt, and all was but a Dream.
FINIS.