A New Song,

Perjurp Punish'd; or, Willainy Lash'd.

TO THE TUNE OF, Packington's Pound. (See p. 457.)

Bold

A Perjur'd Villain here you see
Mounted upon the Pillory;
He that the Pulpit did prophane,
Shall ne're be seated there again;
To Whipping then we do him bring:

Lash till he cryes, "God save the King!"

Old Titus he walkt about Westminster-Hall
With Paper on Front, saluting them all ;

But never was yet a volume so large

That could but contain what 's Conscience doth charge.
His ears must be spar'd, Because they have heard
Folks whisper in London, when Titus appear'd
Beyond the rough Sea, and many miles wide,

From whence in a moment with ease he could stride.

9

On Pillory next he mounts with a grace,

As if he'd been us'd to sit in that place;
Though stale Eggs and Oranges sawcily flies,
Their Battery still he boldly defies:

Tho' his hide's not so ruff As his Turkish Buff,
He's certain it will hold out well enough.
Since his Face is like brass, and so will remain,
Of such gentle storms he'll never complain.

At City Exchange next day he appears,
Where whining Phanaticks saluted his ears;
Their Pilloried Prophet they boldly defend,

Who cannot save them, nor himself in the end.

18

i.e.

Pillory.

27

His Throne they pull'd down, to the City's renown, [Por The relicks on shoulders they bore up and down; But, tyr'd with Procession, 'twas judg'd for the best, In Prison these zealots should take up their rest. The day that succeeds, at humble Cart's-tail, From Aldgate to Newgate, he's whip'd without fail; Like Spaniard he mov'd, with motion most grave, Yet from cruel Rod it did not him save.

The kind City Dames Whose hearts he inflames,
Against his hard fate, with fury exclaims;

And sighing, and whining, they spare not their Tears,
Whilst on 's tender back the lashes appears.

36

601

Titus Oates's Perjury Punished.

A day now of respite is giv'n their Saint,

Whose bold impudence sends forth no complaint;
He's often saluted by Sister most kind,
Whilst plaister is put on the place just behind.
He slabbers and smacks, And nothing he lacks;
They'd venture their bellies as well as their backs,
For Titus their Friend, who with a strong breath
Had sent many Innocent People to death.

[21 May.

But then, say the Zealous, "They were only Papists,
Which we hate ten thousand times worse than Atheists;
Though he did swear false, 'twas with good intent,
That he might establish a new Government;

He would but pull down The Mitre and Crown,
And set up a Bastard upon England's Throne:
And alter the tide of Religion and Laws,
Depending upon the merits of the Cause."

Next day on a Sledge their "Martyr" was seated,
Where lashes on 's shoulders were often repeated;
Their loud acclamations the Rabble sent out,
And hoped e're long to have t' other bout.

The Doctor's not shy With them to comply;
"Tis a thousand to one at Tyburn he'll die,

For Aшopos, or some other small sin,
Which his Janizaries against him do bring.

But since Learned Doctor has past his Degrees,
A Man of that station must pay all his fees;
A number of Witnesses he did suborn,
Who were, without scruple, all plainly forsworn.

Of Blasphemy too, He's guilty, 'tis true,
Lies fair to his charge without more ado.
When all this is done, will wopos come,
And bring him a Rope to finish his doom.

45

[Monmouth.

54

63

[Cicely Mayo, etc.

72

But though his condition we much do bemoan,
We hope that at Tyburn he dies not alone;
May other false Traytors upon him attend,
And there for their crimes make an infamous end.
Our good King, God bless! His Senate no less,
That still does endeavour his Foes to suppress:

May Religion established no time may decay,
That Foppish Phanaticks may never bear sway.

Finis.

81

Printed and are to be sold by Richard Butt, in Princess-street, in

Covent-Garden. [First issued on 2nd of May, 1685.]

The Salamanca Doctor's Farewell;

Or,

Titus's Exaltation to the Pillory upon his Conviction of Perjury.

TO THE TUNE OF, Packington's Pound. (See pp. 457, 600, 602.)

YOme listen, ye Whigs, to my pitiful moan,

All you that have Ears, when the Doctor has none!"

In Sackcloth and Ashes let's sadly be jogging

To behold our dear Saviour o' th' Nation' a flogging.
The Tories to spight us,

As a Goblin to fright us,

With a puшep Wooden-Ruff will bedeck our Friend Titus: Then mourn all to see this ungrateful behaviour,

From these lewd Popish Tories to the dear Nation-Saviour!' 9

"From three prostrate Kingdoms at once to adore me,
And no less than three Parliaments kneeling before me,
From hanging of Lords with a word and a frown,
And no more than an Oath to the shaking a Crown:
For all these brave pranks

Now to have no more thanks

Than to look thro' a hole between two oaken Planks!
Oh! mourn, ye poor Whigs, with sad Lamentation,
To see the hard fate of the Saviour o' th' Nation!'

"For ever farewell the true Protestant famous
Old days of th' Illustrious great Ignoramus!

Had the great Headsman Bethel, that honest Ketch Royal,
But sate at the Helm still the Rogues I'd defy all.

The kind Teckelite crew

To the Alcoran true,

18

[p. 607.

Spight of Law, Oaths, or Gospel, would save poor True Blue. But the Tories are up, and no quarter nor favour

To trusty old Titus, the great Nation-Saviour.'

"There once was a time, boys, when to the World's wonder

I could kill with a breath more than Jove with his Thunder;
But Oh! my great Narrative's made but a Fable,
My Pilgrims and Armies confounded like Babel.
Oh, they've struck me quite dumb,
And to tickle my [drum],

Have my Oracles turn'd to a Tale of Tom Thumb.
Oh! weep all to see this ungrateful Behaviour,

In thus ridiculing the great Nation-Saviour.'

27

336

606

The Salamanca Doctor's Farewell.

"From Honour, and Favour, and Joys, my full swing,
From twelve Pound a week, and the World in a string;
Ah, poor falling Titus! 'tis a cursed debasement
To be pelted with Eggs thro' a lewd wooden-casement !
And oh! muckle 'Tony,

To see thy old crony

[Shaftesbury.

With a face all benointed with wild Locust Honey; 'Twould make thy old Tap weep with sad Lamentation, For trusty old Titus, thy Saviour o' th' Nation.'

"See the Rabble all round me in Battel array, Against my wood Castle their Batteries play; With Turnip-Grenadoes the Storm is begun,

45

All weapons more mortal than Pickering's screw'd Gun. (P. 309.
Oh! my torture begins

To punish my Sins,

For peeping thro' key-holes to spy Dukes and Queens:
Which makes me to roar out with sad Lamentation
For this Tragical blow to th' Saviour o' th' Nation.'
"A curse on the day, when the Papists to run down,
I left b[ad]gering at Omers, to swear Plots at London;
And oh my dear Friends! 'tis a [terri]ble hard case,
To think how they'll pepper my Sanctify'd carcass.
Were my skin but as tough

As my conscience of Buff,

Let 'em pelt their heart-bloods, I'd hold out well enough: But oh! these sad Buffets of Mortification,

To maul the poor Hide of the Saviour o' th' Nation!' "Had the Parliament sate till they'd once more but put Three Kingdoms into the Geneva old rut,

With what Homage and Duty to Titus in glory

54

63

Had th' worshipping Saints turn'd their bum[p]s up before me!
But Oh! the poor stallion,

Alamode de Italian,

To be fetter'd at last like an English Rapscallion.

Oh mourn! all ye Brethren of th' Association,

To see this sad fate of the Saviour o' th' Nation.'

"Cou'd I once but get loose from these troublesome Tackles,
A pocky Stone Doublet, and plaguy Steel Shackles,
I'd leave the pumep Tories, and to do my self Justice,
I'd e'en go a mumping with my honest friend Eustace.

Little Commyn and Oates,

In two Pilgrims' Coats,

[Eustace Comyne.

We'd truss our Black Bills up, and all our old Plots;
We'd leave the base world for their rude behaviours,
To two such Heroick true Protestant Saviours.

72

81

Titus Oates exalted to the Pillory.

"But alack and a day! the worst is behind still,

607

Which makes me fetch groans that wou'd e'en turn a Windmill;
Were the Pillory all, I should never be vext,

But Oh! to my sorrow, the Gallows comes next;
To my doleful sad Fate,

I find, tho' too late,

To this Collar of Wood comes a hempen Cravat:
Which makes me thus roar out with sad Lamentation,

To think how they'll truss up the Saviour o' th' Nation."" 90
[Finis coronat Opus.]

Printed and are to be sold by Richard Butt, in Princess-street, in Covent-Garden. [About the 26th of May], 1685.

The titles of "great Headsman Bethel" and "Ketch royal" in line 21, refer to Slingsby Bethel, who at this time was lurking in Holland, like Papillon and Patience Ward. The allusion is made to his boast that sooner than a headsman should have been lacking for the execution of Charles I., he would have gladly assumed the office. See Note on our p. 198.

Eustace Comines vel Comyne, one of the perjured Irish "Evidences," is mentioned in lines 76, 77; as he had been in Vol. IV. p. 269. He in 1680 had declared that for fourteen years previously he lived in Tipperary with one Keadagh Magher, who was appointed treasurer by Dr. Oliver Plunket, the titular primate, and by John Brenane, titular Archbishop of Cashel; also, that "vast sums of money were to be distributed for the carrying on of that Horrid Plot of the Papists in Ireland." E. Comyne appears again on p. 624.

By this time the prevaricating Miles Prance had been turned out of the Goldsmiths' Company, and had taken heavily to solitary drinking, the natural resource of so weak-minded and easily-overawed a knave. In the already-quoted Dialogue between Bowman the Tory and Prance the Renegado (= "Come, murdering Miles"), to the tune of "Hark! the thund'ring cannons roar,' find the trickster confessing to honest John Bowman, singer, actor, and vintner,

Nay, that which plagues me worst of all,

They kick'd me out of Goldsmiths' - Hall,
And swear that I disgrace them all;

One cursed Tory scratch'd me!

In every place, where e'er I come,
Like sheep from wolves from me folks run;
Three times a day I am drunk alone,

For fear Old Nick should fetch me.

we

48

He had abjured Romanism formerly, and Bowman taunts him with his retaining a shop-sign of The Cross, after renouncing Cross and Mass. He probably recanted again, to escape retribution. John Bowman was mentioned on p. 40.

Although Thomas Dangerfield's whipping, and death (after the injury to his eye, on being struck by Robert Francis's cane), did not take place until the beginning of July, 1685, it has been mentioned at once, in connection with Titus Oates's punishment, to avoid interrupting the narrative of Monmouth's Insurrection.