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<DATE>2008-08-01</DATE>
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<NAME>Olivia Bottum</NAME>
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<DIV1 TYPE="poem">
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<HEAD>A CORDIAL FOR ENGLAND, OR A CHARACTER OF TRUE BRITAINS: Together with a Narrative and Recital of all POPISH PLOTS in ENGLAND &s;ince the Days of QUEEN ELIZABETH.</HEAD>
<HEAD TYPE="sub">And a PROPHESIE of <HI>ROMES</HI> DOWNFAL, by a Loyal <HI>Britain. Nemo &s;ibi na&s;citur.</HI></HEAD>
<L>WE love our Mony, and we love our Blood,</L>
<L>We value neither for our Countrys good;</L>
<L><HI>Mars</HI> and <HI>Apollo</HI> both conjoyn'd in one&punc;</L>
<L>Will &s;ay an <HI>Ajax</HI> and a <HI>Hector</HI> &s;trong.</L>
<L>In time of Peace we'll fight by <HI>Englands</HI> Law,</L>
<L>And when in Field, we'll fill their hearts with aw</L>
<L>That dare oppo&s;e us with an open face,</L>
<L>They're all dead men unle&s;s they quit the place:</L>
<L>We'll neither quarrel, duel, &s;wagger, &s;wear,</L>
<L>We will be patient, for we <HI>Britains</HI> are;</L>
<L>We will be Lambs in time of publick Peace,</L>
<L>And when in Field, we'll Lions rage increa&s;e:</L>
<L>When as we come to hewing, hacking work</L>
<L>We'll neither fear the French, the Pope nor Turk,</L>
<L>Nor any other In&s;truments of Hell,</L>
<L>That would contrive our Land and Laws to &s;ell.</L>
<L>Ba&s;e Pen&s;ioners they are, who under ground</L>
<L>Combine to &s;mite us by a dang'rous wound.</L>
<L>The Head is very &s;ick, our Body too</L>
<L>Is in an inward Hecktick; what &s;hall's do?</L>
<L>Let's call a good Phy&s;ician &s;peedily;</L>
<L>He's able, upright, and he'll &s;eek no Fee;</L>
<L>To &s;ave his Patients Life is his de&s;ire,</L>
<L>And for his pains he will not much require:</L>
<L>And rather then the Patients Life &s;hould go,</L>
<L>He'll buy the Cordial, he's a friend, not foe:</L>
<L>Then call him quickly, call him; come, I pray,</L>
<L>I fear me much I'm near a Critick day.</L>
<L>There's many Symptoms, and there's Omens too,</L>
<L>Of a mo&s;t &s;ad Di&s;temper that doth grow:</L>
<L>Tis ready for to &s;eize the Vital Seat;</L>
<L>When once it &s;eizes, then it is too late.</L>
<L>Oh <HI>Englands</HI> Clergy! look about you now,</L>
<L>You are the men that have great work to do:</L>
<L>Tis not your work you do, fat Flocks to fleece;</L>
<L>When once the Fox gets in beware the Geece.</L>
<L>And we for our parts, that Souldiers are,</L>
<L>Will of our Work and Duty have a care.</L>
<L>And tho the <HI>FLOWER</HI> o'th Flock is gone away,</L>
<L>Yet men remain that can fight in array.</L>
<L>And God Almighty ble&s;s us, bla&s;t our Foes,</L>
<L>And give Succe&s;s and victory over tho&s;e</L>
<L>That do combine and plot to take away</L>
<L>Our &s;acred Soveraigns Life without delay,</L>
<L>And Prote&s;tant Religion de&s;ire</L>
<L>Quite to extirpate and raze out by fire;</L>
<L>And great Di&s;&s;entions which they daily rai&s;e</L>
<L>Within the Church of <HI>England,</HI> &s;eeking prai&s;e,</L>
<L>They'l plot in <HI>England</HI> in the open Sun,</L>
<L>And Ma&s;&s;acres in <HI>Ireland</HI> they have done:</L>
<L>They thir&s;t for Blood, and long to &s;ee one night</L>
<L>Of &s;tabbing Skean-work <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> to affright.</L>
<L>Revive, Oh <HI>England!</HI> cheer thy heart agen.</L>
<L>Thy old Commander marches in the vann,</L>
<L>And he can quickly put thy foes in fear,</L>
<L>When once he bringeth up his Knocking rear:</L>
<L>And though at pre&s;ent, we, in forlorn hope,</L>
<L>Shall &s;ee a day of terror to the Pope.</L>
<L>And to all tho&s;e that plot, combine, and lye</L>
<L>In wait for Blood, to &s;pill it &s;ecretly.</L>
<L>Oh God of <HI>England</HI> ri&s;e, awake agen,</L>
<L>In days of old we have thee glorious &s;een.</L>
<L>In Eighty eight they did invade our Land,</L>
<L>The Spani&s;h Ships Armadoes did Command;</L>
<L>They came on boldly to the very Coa&s;t,</L>
<L>And in a full career they hop'd for roa&s;t:</L>
<L>But God Almighty put them all in fear,</L>
<L>And with his Fire-&s;hips did &s;catter vann and rear:</L>
<L>He rais'd up brave Conductors, Engli&s;hmen,</L>
<L>That made the Spaniards homewards go agen;</L>
<L>All this was done in Queen <HI>Elizabeths</HI> days,</L>
<L>To God Almighty <HI>England</HI> give the prai&s;e.</L>
<L>And in King <HI>James</HI>'s time did they contrive</L>
<L>To blow up mortal men while yet alive;</L>
<L>But Heaven forbad the Stroak, and turn'd the blow</L>
<L>Unto their final fatal overthrow.</L>
<L>And in the time of <HI>Charles</HI> the Fir&s;t our King</L>
<L>Mighty combu&s;tions on the Land did bring;</L>
<L>They &s;tirr'd up Fathers wrath again&s;t the Son,</L>
<L>And almo&s;t was the Nation quite undone</L>
<L>By Civil Wars, which they fomented &s;o,</L>
<L>As laid poor <HI>England</HI> all in blood and wo,</L>
<L>And &s;ent our Gracious Prince, of ble&s;&s;ed memory,</L>
<L>By fatal blow into eternity.</L>
<L>When this was done Prince <HI>Charles,</HI> our pre&s;ent King,</L>
<L>They &s;ent into Exile, ah cur&s;ed thing!</L>
<L>But God was good, and brought him back again;</L>
<L>And now the Crown doth on his Head remain:</L>
<L>This was not all enough, but into Court</L>
<L>The&s;e Mon&s;ters creep agen to make &s;ome &s;port.</L>
<L>And while this Toad in Bo&s;om warm doth lye,</L>
<L>It &s;oon begins to plot con&s;piracy.</L>
<L>So deep their Plot was laid, &s;o under ground,</L>
<L>So dark, &s;o helli&s;h was th' intended wound,</L>
<L>By Poy&s;on, Pi&s;tol, and by Silver &s;lug:</L>
<L>But Heaven defeated this their fatal Drug;</L>
<L>And while the Hor&s;e was eating a few <HI>OATS</HI></L>
<L>His griping belly filled was with Bots;</L>
<L>And thus the Plot came out; and truth it was,</L>
<L>Though now there is no Plot: &s;o let it pa&s;s;</L>
<L>'Tis no great matter, Je&s;uits and Prie&s;ts</L>
<L>May &s;it on rotten Eggs; Cur&s;t be their Ne&s;ts:</L>
<L>And tho the Hou&s;e of Lords and Commons have</L>
<L>Voted a helli&s;h Plot; yet &s;till they wave</L>
<L>The Name of Plot; it is a cur&s;ed thing;</L>
<L>But had almo&s;t to ruine brought our King.</L>
<L>All this is nothing, there is yet no fault,</L>
<L>Tis not &s;o bad to &s;teal as to be caught:</L>
<L>And though the Fact be plainly prov'd on Tryal,</L>
<L>Their Faces can per&s;i&s;t in bold denyal.</L>
<L>What can his Holine&s;s and <HI>Rome</HI> devi&s;e,</L>
<L>Such cur&s;ed things as Plots, all are but Lies;</L>
<L>And we poor Martyrs dye expos'd to &s;corn,</L>
<L>Yet are as innocent as th' child unborn,</L>
<L>Alas poor men! they're gone, much wrong they had</L>
<L><HI>Coleman</HI> and <HI>Plunket,</HI> many more as bad:</L>
<L>But &s;ilence now! they're dead; &s;ilence, I pray,</L>
<L>They'll never plot agen, I'll boldly &s;ay;</L>
<L>Yet neverthele&s;s, if <HI>Pluto</HI> could but grant</L>
<L>The&s;e Martyrs leave, they'd play another prank;</L>
<L>They'd find a Sham-Plot, if it could be found,</L>
<L>That &s;hould lay <HI>England</HI> level with the ground:</L>
<L>And though they dye, they are re&s;olv'd, like men,</L>
<L>To wi&s;h &s;ucce&s;s unto the Plot agen:</L>
<L>They dye in Faith, that Wa&s;ps are yet behind.</L>
<L>That will the &s;elf &s;ame Plot and Project mind.</L>
<L>And this is comfort to their wicked bre&s;t,</L>
<L>They &s;ent poor <HI>Godfrey</HI> before them to re&s;t.</L>
<L>The King and Kingdoms Martyr &s;ure was he;</L>
<L><HI>England</HI> he &s;av'd alive, although he be</L>
<L>Now dead, yet &s;till he lives, and &s;peaketh &s;till,</L>
<L>Avenge my Blood on them that did it &s;pill.</L>
<L>Alas! what mean you? Do not charge men &s;o&punc;</L>
<L>It was not they, but his own Sword did do</L>
<L>The Execution; upon <HI>Primro&s;e-hill</HI></L>
<L>After he &s;trangled was, they prove it will</L>
<L>And will you not believe it, Hereticks</L>
<L>And Infidels, you're men out of your wits.</L>
<L>Now <HI>England</HI> judge, I pray you, men mo&s;t wi&s;e,</L>
<L>Come near, and view the Cradle-babe that cries,</L>
<L>His Name is Plot, compare well, and &s;ee</L>
<L>Which is his Father, Pope or Presbytry:</L>
<L>The former hath his limbs, his hands, his face;</L>
<L>Yet mu&s;t the latter bear the Brats Di&s;grace:</L>
<L>'Tis no new thing indeed; for every Whore</L>
<L>Will lay her Ba&s;tard at anothers door;</L>
<L>But Lord have mercy on us; mu&s;t not we</L>
<L>That guiltle&s;s are deny this Ba&s;tardye:</L>
<L>No, no, the Whori&s;h womans Word is very great,</L>
<L>And 'tis enough; &s;he &s;ays you did the feat:</L>
<L>But Heavens forbid that Prote&s;tants &s;hould be</L>
<L>Abu&s;ed by a Whore that's all pocky.</L>
<L>And &s;end our King a <HI>Solomons</HI> heart, to make</L>
<L>A Judgment ju&s;t, who &s;hall this Ba&s;tard take:</L>
<L>And make her an example to all Whores,</L>
<L>Who lay their Ba&s;tards daily at mens Doors.</L>
<L>Lord God Almighty wake, ari&s;e, I pray,</L>
<L>And &s;end to dawn that clear Sun &s;hining day,</L>
<L>When Kings and Kingdoms all &s;hall joyntly hate</L>
<L>The Scarlet Whore, and bring upon her pate</L>
<L>The Vengeance written long ago, foretold</L>
<L>And prophe&s;ied in former days of old:</L>
<L>And when this Work is done, Lord take the prai&s;e,</L>
<L>And to thy &s;elf a Generation rai&s;e,</L>
<L>To &s;erve thee in a glorious Go&s;pel-day.</L>
<L>When all the world &s;hall walk in one good way.</L>
<L>And though I dye and never live to &s;ee.</L>
<L>Let God fulfil this ancient Prophe&s;ie.</L>
<CLOSER><SIGNED>My Countrys Friend <HI>Jacob Sontley.</HI></SIGNED></CLOSER>
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