WHITEHALL Swept and Furnished.
By
A. T. A Lover of his Countrey.
ROuze up my Genius, what art now grown dead?
Or have I lost thee with my Maidenhead?
Or think's
Apollo to be seen, a sin?
Cause
Ireton wants Hair upon his chin?
Or did dire
Lawson and his Crew combine,
Abhorring Metre, to immerge the
NINE?
That's not the cause; Thou'st been upon the Rack,
Since
Titchborn's Grapes were cheaper sold then Sack.
Away to Court, and there take but your fill,
'Tis 'gainst the Proclamation for to swill;
In spite of all the tribe of Beelzebub,
Drink off your Wine, and render them the Tub
To preach in; whose divine ingenuous scent
Will teach them better Doctrine then they vent.
Enter there boldly, prithee be not nice,
But view each parcel of the Edifice,
And its Inhabitants: View every man,
From all that's sacred to the Dripping-pan:
But spare that Majesty, which once but nam'd,
Would fill more Volumes than the world hath fram'd.
Now to the Work, and first remove that Lumber,
Which did the Royal Palace so long cumber;
Nol is marcht off, by this hath had his Doom,
And for his B
[...]ethren now is making room.
I can't but smile to hear how he now raves,
That kill'd the Bears, and call'd the Bear-hoods slaves,
And
Bradshaw prate, but
Pluto bids, content,
Sirrah, you are not here my President.
And
Linx-ey'd
Sterry, who affirm'd of late,
That Brittish
Nero now in Heaven sate,
Is a true Prophet, and did guess it well,
He is in Heaven, if there be no Hell:
That
Scot, and
Vane, and
Hasilrigg will know
When their deserts shall send them down below,
Who have so mangled Honor, that we quite
Have lost distin
[...]tion 'twixt
Sir Knave and
Knight.
Prodigious
Pack, and
Harrison, and
Packer,
And
Hewson, those Varlets Conscience-maker,
These Mothes of State, and many thousands more,
Hate Monarchy, as
Martin loves a Whore:
Now binde them up and Cart them, here's my Garter,
Let
Disborow that Lordship be their Carter.
The Rout is gone, the Royal Train is come,
Whose very Breath persume
[...]h every room,
And all those places in this Court that were
A Den of Thieves, is now an House of Prayer.
Vertue's in fashion, now are come agen,
And what's as rare, both just and honest men:
The Vail is taken off which we were under,
Joan and my
Lady parted are asunder.
Here's Chastity and Beauty, but one smile
Would raise a Stoicks spirits forty Mile:
So free from Vice, their bodies never tri'd,
Whose mental parts are onely occupi'd.
The Gentlemen so civil and so just,
You'd think they wanted Instruments of Lust:
So honor'd, each S
[...]r-reverence of theirs,
More Knightship ha's than had all
Oliver's.
May you continue vertuous, and my wish
Shall be Prosperity your chiefest bliss;
For if you once descend to sordid folly,
My Paper will grow pale, ink, melancholly.
‘
PROVERBS 25. 5. Take away the wicked from before the King, and his Throne shall be established in Righteousness.’
London, Printed in the year of Restauration. 1660.