Another Factious grave Belweather, Whofe Tongue's the Devil's B--Leather, The Plague and Teazer of the Court, Whofe chief Delight's in doing hurt, The Head of all the factious Clan, By whom our Feuds were firft began ; The City's God, the Rabbles Leader, A Lord, a Rebel, and a Trader, Who keeps his Changes and Cabals At publick Halls and Festivals; An old rebellious, canting Wizard, Who loves theRump with all his Gizard, Hell's Journy-man, our Plot Projector, The Rebels Patriot and Protector, So loofe no Royal Smiles can win him, So base, the very Devil's in him; The Sower of feditious Seeds, The Planter of rebellious Weeds, The Quinteffence of all that's naught, And yet too cunning to be caught; The fubtile Baffler of the Laws,

The Bulwark of the Good-Old-Caufe,

The

The fatal Firebrand of the Nation,
The Spring of all Abomination,

The Cacafugo of the Age,

The Samford of the Publick Stage,

The broacher of deftru&tive Schifm,
The very Tap of Devilifm,

Thro' which all forts of Treafons flow,
That with his Dropfick Humours grow,
Yet once was great in the esteem
Of him that wears the Diadem;
But ftill when high in Pow'r and Place
The Statefiman did the Judge difgrace
And flew his Nature to be base.

Thus Factious Foes, whom Kings en(deavour

So oft to win by Royal Favour,

Tho' Honours make them lefs fevere,. Tet fill the Rebel will appear.

To ballance this Contentious Mortal, Of foul Diftempers full, tho'Hearthole,

A Scot whofe Neddle may as big be,

As that fam'd Knight's Sr Kelum Digby And has as muckle Cunning in it,

As any

Lad that wears a Bonnet,

Is held in favour of the Crown,
To bear the rifing Faction down;
Tho' many more, we must agree,
Are in the Scale as well as he;
But in the fubtle Arts of State
He truly bears the greatest weight,
And is the fitteft Man of Action,
To fruftrate the Intrigues of Faction,
Altho' his blubber Face, is fuch

A Phiz that does not promife much,
Yet he has cunning to unrivel
The very Myfteries of the Devil,
And knows as well to countermine
A Plot, or trayterous Design,

As if he had below been bred,

Where hellish Treafons firft are laid;

"Twas

"Twas he that did advise his Liege,
To fend his Son to Bofwel-Bridge,
That by destroying his own Friends,
His Uncle Y---k might gain his Ends,
And in his Progrefs win that Favour
His Nephew loft by's rafh Behaviour,
'Tis he that chiefly undermines
And blows up all the Whigs Defigns,

And by one Stratagem or other,

Secures old R

and his Brother;

In ev'ry Exigence does shew,

He's no true Scot, but Scot that's true;

Juft to the Int'reft of the Throne,
United wifely with his own,
As faithful to his Popish Friend,
Whofe fafety is the chiefeft End
To which his fecret Counfels tend.
O Scotland! had thy Sons been all
Like him, you'd ftop'd th unhappy fall
Of Charles, whofe Blood will ever be
A witness of thy Treachery.

D 2

Among

Among the reft there is a Peer, Whofe pointed Wit the Courtiers fear

For tho' himself more open lies-
Than thofe he loves to fcandalize,
Yet for her Theme his wanton Mufe
Does always fpiteful Satyr chufe.
(So among Lady Punks, the worst
Will always cry out Whore the first.)
No kind Amour can pass at Court,
Or Love Intrigue of any fort,

But ftill his Muse must tell what sporting

Has been of late behind the Curtain,
As if fhe ftood a Pimp to all

That cool'd their Leach'ry at Whitehal.
Nor can old R------ lay afide
Affairs of State and Kingly Pride,
To drink a merry Glass, to drown
The Cares that wait upon a Crown;
Or can he fleal one happy Night,
To pafs away in Love's Delight,