The COURT of ENGLAND Or, The Preparation for the happy CORONATION of King WILLIAM and Queen MARY.
English-man.
COme Gallants, let's tender
Those Hearts we surrender
At the blest Coronation of our Faiths great Defender,
Now Glory shal Rule:
No more Popish Edge-tool;
Thanks Heav'n, of a knave we've at last made a Fool,
of a Jesuit.
Th' High-Commission-Court Sham,
Jeff
[...]s, Devil and Dam,
Once maul'd our poor Church with the Popes batt'ring Ram;
But the great Sleeves of Lawn
No more shall be drawn
Into Nooses and Goals by the impudent Spawn
of a Jesuit.
Who but they and their Crew
Poor
James could undo,
And lose him his Honour and Diadem too;
By
Petres false measure,
Th' unfortunate
Caesar,
Turn'd (alas) out a grazing, like
Nebuchadnezzar, by the Jesuit.
With your Chancellor false Steward,
Romes Scholar so toward,
Your
Castlemain Nuntio and your Cardinal
Howard,
You have out-done the shot
Of your Gunpowder Plot,
And blown up the credulous
James; have ye not?
ye false Jesuit.
Our Freedoms and Charters
Were the first of your martyrs,
For
Rome had begun to take up her head Quarters
Her vengeance to wreak,
All Faith we must break,
For Law, Oaths, and Gospel are all Bonds too weak
for a Jesuit.
With your sly false preambles,
For your dear Stakes and Shambles,
And goring 3 Kingdoms With the old Thorns and Brambles;
What Engines infernal
In the Popish Diurnal,
Could fill the whole word with Treasons eternal
but the Jesuit.
Taffy.
A Shesuit, that Sheater,
Rogue, Ʋillain, and Traytor!
By the flesh of her pones, her Welsh plood rises at her;
Very fine, Shentlefolks,
A Welsh Heir, with a Pox,
Was her get her a Prince in a Shuglers Box?
Cunning Shesuit.
Has her Forehead no blush on
Such Proshects to push on,
As was raise her Welsh Heir to Three Crowns from a Cushion
To who, splutternails,
Does her tell her sham Tales?
Has her none to put trick on but her Nation of
Wales, Roguy Shesuit.
Oh! to pay her old score,
Had her Son of a whore
On a Ladder as high as her own
Penmenmour
Was her once but truss'd up,
Till her cut the Rope,
Her might hang there till dooms day, her self and her Pope
for a Shesuit.
Sawny.
THe Pope that saw Turk.
So steely as weerk,
With aw his saw Imps to pull down the Kirk,
Now the Mange, our Scotch plague,
On that Scarlet Whore-Hag,
And Deel splie the wem, the luggs, and the crag
of the Jesuit.
For awd
Jemmy's sad folly,
With
Juggy and
Dolly
Ise dance a Scotch Iig for bonny
Willy and
Molly
With
Jockey and
Sawny,
Aw lads teugh and brawny,
weese drub the faw face, aw black, blew, & tawny,
of the Jesuit.
Monsieur.
O De Rogue English trick!
Dat de poor Catolick
Shon'd be kick, knock, & tump, & run down to
Old Nick.
But begar, de Vengeance
Of my Ma'ter of
France
Sall lead
English Heretick-dog a
French Dance,
for de Jesuit.
Sall
Lewis sit still?
Vat fool, tink he will,
When old
Jame and he so long piss in a Quil?
No,
Bougre Garsoon,
With Monsieur
Dagroon,
Begar we come o're, and fight blood and woon
for de Jesuit.
Dough
Jemmy Monsier,
(Pox taka
Myn-heer)
Has lost a de Crown of de damn
Angletere;
In
Eerland, brave boy,
With
Vive le Roy
We crewn him again a new
Monarch dear-joy
for de Jesuit,
Teague.
BƲb a boo! Bub! oh hone!
The Broder of the son,
And de Shild of mee Moder de poor Teague undone!
Pull down Mass-house and Altar,
And burn Virgin Psalter,
And make hang upon Priest, and no friend cut de Halter
of poor Jesuit▪
When Teague first came o're
To de
Engleand shore,
Wid.
6, 7, 8. Thousand Irish Lads, all and more:
Teague was Promist good Fashion,
Great Estate in de Nation,
Wid all
London in his pocket, upon mee shaulWashion
by de Jesuit.
But when de Bore Dutch,
Got
Teague in his clutch,
Stead of make great estate, and Chrees knows what much
[...]
Damn'd Heretick Dogue
Made
Teague a poor Rogue,
Turn'd him to make starve widout shoe or broge;
for de jesuit.
But I'le beg Captaint Plaa
[...]h
Of de sweet Eyes and Eaash
Of mee Dear-joy
Tyrconnel his Majesties Graash;
And fight like a
Hero,
By mee shaul a
Mack-Nero,
Cut Troat for Shaint
Patrick, and sing
Lilli burlero for de jesuit
Mynheer.
HOld cut-weason Skellom.
And let
Myn-heer tell 'om,
For
Englonds great
[...]ogan & Mogan Lord
Willem
And the dear
English-mons,
Their Church, Laws, and Londs,
Van Dutch-londers fight with all hearts & honds
'gainst the jesuit.
English-man.
SAy'st thou so, Friend
Myn-heer?
Then adieu to all fear,
France, Ireland, Pope, Devil, come all if you dare:
Come
Lads let's be jogging,
The
French Ears want lugging,
And
Teague, and
Tyrconnel's false Hide must have flogging
for the jesuit.
Whilst kind
Dutch Tarpaulin
With
English-boys fall in,
And both our stout Navys proud
Britain
[...]shal wall in:
No pope shal destroy us,
Nor Monsieur annoy us,
With
William and
Marys blest Reign to
[...] o'rejoy us
Farewel jesuit.