Upon the Miſcarriage of their Affairs here.
YOURS I received from the Infernal Poſt,
After two Days upon the Stygian Coaſt;
Which did me both Aſtoniſh and Surprize,
Till Tears of Madneſs iſſued from my Eyes;
'T muſt needs be Diſmal when the Devil Cries.
I'm mad with Rage, with Spleen I'm almoſt burſt
Are All our Plots, All our Intreagues Accurſt?
Was it for this I brought into your Order,
To countenance each Villany and Murder,
One who hath Power to Act as well as Will,
An inbred Proneneſs unto All that's Ill :
Malitious even to the laſt Degree,
Nor equal'd in Revenge and Cruelty;
Who when ſolicited to ought that's Good,
He changeth Countenance, it chills his Blood ?
He from his Gallick Breed this Maxim draws,
To make his, Will a Boundary to Laws;
Nay, his Male Family is not excus'd,
Whoſe Moral Vertues are too plain diffus'd,
Over three Bleeding Kingdoms, once the Pride
Of Europe, while a Tudor was the Guide :
But when the Scottiſh Race took footing here,
I found with every Wind their Faith would vere;
And tho to the Firſt James I ſeem'd to fly,
Yet both the Charles's eaſily did comply :
When they drew backward or our Will deny'd,
We had a Wife or Brother, on our ſide;
True Friends to Rome, and each Tame Monarchs Guide.
This Bigot, who to charles a Plague hath been,
Him I plague juſtly with as vile a Q——
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