<!DOCTYPE ETS PUBLIC "-//UMDLPS//DTD EEBOPROOF 2.0//EN">
<ETS>
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<CHANGE>
<DATE>2009-02-02</DATE>
<RESPSTMT>
<NAME>Scott Lepisto</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
</RESPSTMT>
<ITEM>Proofed and reviewed as part of batch B090110.pdcc.</ITEM>
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<EEBO>
<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="B05771">
<STC T="W">S2255A</STC>
<BIBNO T="umi">99890898</BIBNO>
<VID>181731</VID>
</IDG>
<TEXT LANG="eng">
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="1" REF="1" MS="y"><!-- PDF PAGE 39 -->
<HEAD>THE SECOND ADVICE TO THE PAINTER.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>NOw <HI>Painter</HI> try if thy skil'd hand can draw,</L>
<L>The horrid'&s;t Scene the trembling world ere &s;aw;</L>
<L>Wipe all the Pencills that the former drew,</L>
<L>In di&s;mal colours dip 'um all anew;</L>
<L>Colours that may in lively parts expre&s;s</L>
<L>The plotted fall of <HI>Monarchs</HI> in a dre&s;s:</L>
<L>May fright the World from Crimes we can't atone,</L>
<L>With our be&s;t bloods, and Chri&s;tians blu&s;h to own:</L>
<L>But let me fir&s;t advi&s;e you ere you take</L>
<L>This work in hand, a &s;mall reflection make</L>
<L>On all that's hainous; <HI>Murthers, Trea&s;ons, Fires,</HI></L>
<L><HI>Deaths</HI> in all &s;hapes, and <HI>rapines,</HI> hot de&s;ires:</L>
<L>Of <HI>Murthering Kings</HI> I tremble to reher&s;e,</L>
<L>A tottering world and &s;inking Univer&s;e:</L>
<L>Think well on the&s;e ere you begin your part</L>
<L>'T will heighten fancy, and affect your heart:</L>
<L>In th' upper part of all the Canvas, paint</L>
<L>His <HI>Holyne&s;s</HI> the <HI>Pope,</HI> that mighty Saint,</L>
<L>Old Sathan his a&s;&s;ociate too mu&s;t &s;tand</L>
<L>Behind his chair to guide his heart and hand;</L>
<L>Draw him &s;tuck round with all the toyes that come</L>
<L>From the grand Mint of lies, old foppi&s;h <HI>Rome:</HI></L>
<L><HI>Bulls, Di&s;pen&s;ations, Pardons,</HI> all the baits</L>
<L>He lays for the dull crow'd; the <HI>Book of rates</HI></L>
<L>Will be convenient too, that t'every &s;in</L>
<L>The value may be known, pray cram that in:</L>
<L>Draw him di&s;per&s;ing with a bounteous hand</L>
<L>For horrid ends the trea&s;ure of his Land;</L>
<PB N="2" REF="2"><!-- PDF PAGE 40 -->
<L>Di&s;pen&s;ing with fal&s;e Oaths, or any thing,</L>
<L>So that they'l Murther <HI>Charles</HI> Great <HI>Brittains</HI> King:</L>
<L>Poor fool to think the guardian of his throne,</L>
<L>Is grown as dull and &s;en&s;le&s;s as his own;</L>
<L>No, proud Impo&s;tor, no<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter"> thy hand's too &s;hort</L>
<L>To reach his head or make his fall thy &s;port.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Next draw proud <HI>France,</HI> and his ambitious hope</L>
<L>Of being mighty, cringing to the Pope:</L>
<L>'Tis not his zeal to him, or to tho&s;e laws</L>
<L>That cheat the world, that his affection draws;</L>
<L>'Tis int're&s;t, mighty int're&s;t, bears the &s;way,</L>
<L>He dares not, though he's willing, di&s;obey:</L>
<L>Ba&s;e Prince and fooli&s;h too, your &s;elf you cheat,</L>
<L>When on &s;uch terms as the&s;e you would be great;</L>
<L>You fea&s;t your &s;ences, &s;ecure at co&s;tly rates,</L>
<L>That nothing el&s;e can &s;erve but dellicates</L>
<L>Dipt in the blood of Princes; Deaths of Kings,</L>
<L>In your opinion are but vulgar things:</L>
<L>Had thir&s;t of Empire &s;way'd a generous &s;oul</L>
<L>The&s;e ba&s;e low tricks cou'd never &s;ure controul;</L>
<L>But to a minde &s;o firm on mi&s;chief bent,</L>
<L>No generous thoughts or honour could prevent</L>
<L>The meane&s;t actions; Princes &s;hould be true,</L>
<L>And act on principles of honour too:</L>
<L>Then they are Sacred to the world, and ought</L>
<L>To be adored, then di&s;re&s;pect's a fault:</L>
<L>But when from ba&s;e degenerate they are grown,</L>
<L>The vulgar hurl'um headlong from the throne:</L>
<L>Go on vile Prince in all the&s;e acts, and try,</L>
<L>How &s;oon your Crown will fade, your Empire dye;</L>
<L>By your example your own Subjects teach,</L>
<L>To &s;trike at Empires and at Scepters reach,</L>
<L>And may their fir&s;t attempt be on thy head,</L>
<L>Dethrone thee fir&s;t of all, then &s;trike thee dead.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Now Painter to our Subjects dip thy pen</L>
<L>In black, in horrid black, yet once agen;</L>
<L>For when a Subject from a King revolts,</L>
<L>Con&s;pires his death, and thinks the&s;e things no faults,</L>
<L>The &s;cene mu&s;t needs be horrid, fir&s;t begin</L>
<L>With <HI>Bella&s;is</HI> and his foul and grateful &s;in:</L>
<L>Draw him a mon&s;ter, in as foul a dre&s;s</L>
<L>As ere your heart can think, or hand expre&s;s;</L>
<PB N="3" REF="2"><!-- PDF PAGE 40 -->
<L>Long did he in his Princes bo&s;om lie</L>
<L>One would have thought void of all Treachery;</L>
<L>For what ba&s;e man but he, could ere con&s;pire</L>
<L>To &s;et that hou&s;e, wherein he lives, on fire?</L>
<L>Who could &s;uch Trea&s;on harbour in his brea&s;t,</L>
<L>'Gain&s;t th' be&s;t of Princes, and to him the be&s;t?</L>
<L>The other Lords mu&s;t on the Stage be led,</L>
<L>Drawn&mdash;each man with halter on his head,</L>
<L>And dagger in his heart, that &s;o in vain</L>
<L>Where with they &s;trove to &s;tab their Soveraign:</L>
<L>Ba&s;e Rebells! do you thus your Prince reward?</L>
<L>Have you no Honour left? or no regard</L>
<L>T'his Clemency, which &s;ome of you I know</L>
<L>Have ta&s;ted, or y' had di'd for't long ago:</L>
<L>Had he been cruel or Tirannick grown,</L>
<L>You had more rea&s;on to u&s;urp his Throne;</L>
<L>But to a Gratious and Obliging Prince,</L>
<L>'Tis pa&s;t all hopes of pardon or defence.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Now <HI>Painter</HI> draw me <HI>Hell</HI> in all its heat,</L>
<L>Let &s;ulphurous flames and di&s;mal darkne&s;s meet,</L>
<L>And in the hotte&s;t place, as be&s;t befits,</L>
<L>Draw <HI>Stayly, Coleman,</HI> and the <HI>Je&s;uits:</HI></L>
<L>Let 'um indure the flaming brim&s;tone rage,</L>
<L>Tho&s;e bloody Trayterous mi&s;creants of our age,</L>
<L>Tho&s;e were the men de&s;ign'd (O horrid act)</L>
<L>Nay were re&s;olved too, to commit the fact;</L>
<L>Ba&s;e Rebells don't you know, that Heavens high hand</L>
<L>Has &s;till kept &s;afe the Monach of our Land,</L>
<L>And cou'd you think to move our Scene, and do</L>
<L>What Heavens great Lord had nere con&s;ented to.</L>
<L>Burn on vile wretches, think well on the&s;e things,</L>
<L>What Trea&s;on is, what 'tis to Murther Kings.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Now draw in all his Maje&s;ty and State,</L>
<L>Our Soveraign Prince, ju&s;t ri&s;ing from his Fate;</L>
<L>Pray paint him laughing at the follies done</L>
<L>By th' <HI>Pope,</HI> and <HI>France,</HI> his mo&s;t unchri&s;tian Son?</L>
<L>Prithy Old fellow, prithy tell me why,</L>
<L>Old <HI>England</HI> &s;hould &s;o much di&s;turb thy Eye:</L>
<L>Is it becau&s;e we do not dote like you,</L>
<L>And wor&s;hip all your Saints we never knew?</L>
<L>If the&s;e, Old man, our aggravations be,</L>
<L>Know, we defy thy Mallice, Imps, and thee.</L>
</LG>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="4" REF="3"><!-- PDF PAGE 41 -->
<HEAD>To the KING.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>WElcome great Prince, to Life agen, at lea&s;t,</L>
<L>welcom from dangers, which we hope are cea&s;t,</L>
<L>Dangers which lately hover'd o're your head,</L>
<L>Threatning to &s;trike your ri&s;ing Glory dead;</L>
<L>The Cloud's blown over, and the mi&s;ts away</L>
<L>Portend the ri&s;ing of a glorious day?</L>
<L>May &s;till your Saored Maje&s;ty give Law</L>
<L>To all your Kingdoms, keeping them in aw,</L>
<L>May your bright Crown, as beauteous rays di&s;per&s;e,</L>
<L>As any Monarchs of the Univer&s;e.</L>
</LG>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV2>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
</TEXT>
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