No Protestant Plot, Or, The Whigs Loyalty: With the Doctor's New Discovery.
To the Tune of,
Burton House, Or,
Londons Loyalty.
Entred according to Order.
[I.]
HELLS restless Factious 'Agents still Plot on,
And Eighty Three smells rank of Forty One;
The Royal
Martyrs Foes pursue his Sons,
Who seek their Lives with Blunderbuss and Guns:
The Infernal Regicides so inflam'd with Zeal,
Are for Killing King, and Duke, t' Erect a Common-weal;
This is the Dayly Trade and Practice of our Modern
Whiggs,
Tho' they're always baffled in their Damn'd Intrigues.
[II.]
What! Ho! cryes
Titus, riseye sleepy Heads,
Unless you'l all be Murder'd in your Beds;
Fierce
Hannibal of
France is at your Gate,
Come Rascals, Mutiny e're it is too late;
The
Spanish Pilgrims, once hir'd to cut your Throats,
Are Landed now at
Milford Haven, believe your Saviour
Oates;
And the Horrid Popish Army, that were hid under Ground,
Are, I'le take my Oath, within a Trumpets Sound.
[III.]
See there, a Fighting Army in the Air!
But now it vanishes, and disappears;
A
Spectre told strange Things to Honest
Bess,
Which much amaz'd the
Hatfield Prophetess:
I told'em true at first, what Black Designs would be
Carry'd on against the King, and Royal
Albany,
By the discontented
Whiggs; but Rebel
Tony since,
Made me contradict my former Evidence.
[IV.]
I've lost my Swearing Trade, now by this Hand,
Must I be forc'd to starve, or leave the Land;
My injur'd Prince has long since on me frown'd,
For
Perjuries against his Life and Crown:
I'le follow
Rumbold, Wade, Nelthorp, Walcot, Hone,
With that Cruel Blood-Hound
Burton, who've all fled the Town;
For if I tarry here much longer, I harbour dreadful Fears,
That I shall be Hang'd, or forfeit both my Ears.
[V.]
Unparallel'd Assassines, that could dare
To attempt the Life of
Joves Vice-Gerent here:
Of whom the Gods do take such special care,
None ought to mutter Treason to the Air;
But cut-Throat Protestants may do any thing,
And Inform the
Roman-Catholicks how to Murder Kings;
They take it in great Dudgeon to be equaliz'd for Villany,
Yet their Hellish Crimes must pass for Loyalty.
[VI.]
But thanks to Heaven, who did curb their Power,
And has preserv'd us from that Fatal Hour:
When Villains were to Massacre us all,
And
Noll's Successors to possess
White-hall;
Rumsey has taken up
New-gate for his Bower,
And the Lord
Russel is gone to fortifie the
Tower:
Whilst we that stand for Church and State, with gerat security can Sing,
And Pray,
Jove to preserve the Life of
Charles our King.
FINIS.
Printed for Charles Corbet, at the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-Lane, 1683.