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On the cold earth lies th' unregarded king,
A headless carcafe, and a nameless thing.

On the Earl of STAFFORD's Trial and Death.

GRE

REAT Stafford! worthy of that name, though all
Of thee could be forgotten, but thy fall,

Crush'd by imaginary treason's weight,

Which too much merit did accumulate :

As chemifts gold from brafs by fire would draw,
Pretexts are into treafon forg'd by law.

* His wisdom fuch, at once it did appear

Three kingdoms wonder, and three kingdoms fear; Whilst fingle he stood forth, and feem'd, although Each had an army, as an equal foe.

Such was his force of eloquence, to make

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The hearers more concern'd than he that spake;
Each feem'd to act that part he came to fee;
And none was more a looker-on than he;
So did he move our paffions, fome were known
To with, for the defence, the crime their own.
Now private pity ftrove with public hate,
Reafon with rage, and eloquence with fate :
Now they could him, if he could them forgive;
He's not too guilty, but too wise to live;

Lefs feem thofe facts which treafon's nick-name bore,
Than fuch a fear'd ability for more.

They after death their fears of him exprefs,
His innocence and their own guilt confefs.

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Their legislative frenzy they repent:

Enacting it fhould make no precedent.

This fate he could have 'fcap'd, but would not lofe
Honour for life, but rather nobly chofe

Death from their fears, than fafety from his own,
That his last action all the rest might crown.

On my Lord CROFT'S and my Journey into Poland, from whence we brought 10,000l. for his Majefty, by the Decimation of his Scottish Subjects there.

TOLE, tole,

Gentle bell, for the foul
Of the pure ones in Pole,

Which are damn'd in our fcroul.

Who having felt a touch
Of Cockram's greedy clutch,
Which though it was not much,
Yet their ftubbornness was fuch,

That when we did arrive,

'Gainft the ftream we did strive;

They would neither lead nor drive :

Nor lend

An ear to a friend,

Nor an anfwer would fend

To our letter fo well penn'd.

Nor

Nor affift our affairs

With their monies nor their wares,
As their anfwer now declares,

But only with their prayers.

Thus they did perfift,
Did and faid what they lift,
Till the dyet was dismist;
But then our breech they kist.

For when

It was mov'd there and then
They should pay one in ten,
The dyet faid, Amen.

And because they are loth
To discover the troth,

They must give word and oath,
Though they will forfeit both.

Thus the conftitution

Condemns them every one,
From the father to the fon.

But John

(Our friend) Molleffon

Thought us to have out-gone
With a quaint invention.

Like the prophets of yore,
He complain'd long before,
Of the mischiefs in store,
Ay, and thrice as much more.

And

And with that wicked lye,
A letter they came by
From our king's majesty.

But fate

Brought the letter too late, 'Twas of too old a date

To relieve their damn'd ftate.

The letter's to be seen,
With feal of wax fo green,
At Dantzige, where 't has been
Turn'd into good Latin.

But he that gave the hint
This letter for to print,

Muft alfo pay his fint.

That trick,

Had it come in the nick,
Had touch'd us to the quick;
But the messenger fell fick.

Had it later been wrote,
And fooner been brought,
They had got what they fought,
But now it ferves for nought.

On Sandys they ran aground,
And our return was crown'd
With full ten thousand pound.

On

On Mr. THO. KILLIGRE W's Return from Venice, and Mr. WILLIAM MURREY'S from Scotland.

UR refident Tom,

OUR

From Venice is come,

And hath left the statesman behind him:

Talks at the fame pitch,

Is as wife, is as rich;

And just where you left him, you find him.

But who fays he was not
A man of much plot,
May repent that false accusation;
Having plotted and penn'd

Six plays, to attend

The farce of his negotiation.

Before you were told

How Satan * the old

Came here with a beard to his middle;
Though he chang'd face and name,
Old Will was the fame,

At the noise of a can and a fiddle.

These statesmen, you believe,
Send straight for the shrieve,

* Mr. W. Murrey.

For

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