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On the cold earth lies th' unregarded king,

A headlefs carcafe, and a nameless thing.

On the Earl of STAFFORD's Trial and Death.


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 brass by fire would draw,
Pretexts are into treason forg'd by law.

* His wisdom such, at once it did appear

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

Such was his force of eloquence, to make

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 treason's nick-name bore,
Than fuch a fear'd ability for more.

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

D 4


Their legislative frenzy they repent:

Enacting it fhould make no precedent.

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

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 such,

That when we did arrive,

'Gainft the ftream we did ftrive;

They would neither lead nor drive :

Nor lend

An ear to a friend,

Nor an answer would fend

To our letter fo well penn'd.


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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 Mr. THO. KILLIGREW's Return from Venice, and Mr. WILLIAM MURREY'S from Scotland.

UR refident Tom,


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 accufation;
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 statefmen, you believe,

Send ftraight for the shrieve,

* Mr. W. Murrey.


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