A comet, whose portending phiz Appears more dreadful than it is; But now propitious stars repel Those ills it lastly did fortel.

'Twill burst with unregarded spight, And, since the Parliament proves right, Will turn to smoke, which shone of late So bright and flaming in the State.

Ballad: The Desponding Whig

From Ned Ward's Works, vol. iv. 1709.

When owles are strip'd of their disguise, And wolves of shepherd's cloathing, Those birds and beasts that please our eyes Will then beget our loathing; When foxes tremble in their holes At dangers that they see, And those we think so wise prove fools, Then low, boys, down go we.

If those designs abortive prove We've been so long in hatching, And cunning knaves are forced to move From home for fear of catching; The rabble soon will change their tone When our intrigues they see, And cry G.o.d save the Church and Throne, Then low, boys, down go we.

The weaver then no more must leave His loom and turn a preacher, Nor with his cant poor fools deceive To make himself the richer.

Our leaders soon would disappear If such a change should be, Our scriblers too would stink for fear, Then low, boys, down go we.

No canvisars would dare to shew Their postures and grimaces, Or proph'sy what they never knew, By dint of ugly faces.

But shove the tumbler through the town, And quickly banish'd be, For none must teach without a gown, Then low, boys, down go we.

If such unhappy days should come, Our virtue, moderation, Would surely be repaid us home With double compensation; For as we never could forgive, I fear we then should see That what we lent we must receive, Then low, boys, down go we.

Should honest brethren once discern Our knaveries, they'd disown us, And bubbl'd fools more wit should learn, The Lord have mercy on us; Let's guard against that evil day, Least such a time should be, And tackers should come into play, Then low, boys, down go we.

Tho' hitherto we've play'd our parts Like wary cunning foxes, And gain'd the common people's hearts By broaching het'rodoxes, - But they're as fickle as the winds, With nothing long agree, And when they change their wav'ring minds, Then low, boys, down go we.

Let's preach and pray, but spit our gall On those that do oppose us, And cant of grace, in spite of all The shame the Devil owes us: The just, the loyal, and the wise With us shall Papists be, For if the HIGH CHURCH once should rise, Then, LOW CHURCH, down go we.

Ballad: Phanatick Zeal, Or A Looking-gla.s.s For The Whigs

From a Collection of 180 Loyal Songs. Tune, "A Swearing we will go."

Who would not be a Tory When the loyal are call'd so: And a Whig now is known To be the nation's foe?

So a Tory I will be, will be, And a Tory I will be.

With little band precise, Hair Presbyterian cut, Whig turns up hands and eyes Though smoking hot from s.l.u.t.

So a Tory I will be, etc.

Black cap turn'd up with white, With wolfish neck and face, And mouth with nonsense stuft, Speaks Whig a man of grace, And a Tory I will be, etc.

The sisters go to meetings To meet their gallants there; And oft mistake for my Lord, And snivel out my dear.

And a Tory I will be, etc.

Example, we do own, Than precept better is; For Creswell she was safe, When she lived a private Miss.

And a Tory I will be, etc.

The Whigs, though ne'er so proud, Sometimes have been as low, For there are some of note Have long a raree-show.

And a Tory I will be, etc.

These mushrooms now have got Their champion turn-coat hick; But if the naked truth were known They're a.s.sisted by old Nick.

And a Tory I will be, etc.

To be and to be not At once is in their power; For when they're in, they're guilty, But clear when out o' the tower.

And a Tory I will be, etc.

To carry their designs, Though 't contradicts their sense; They're clear a Whiggish traytor Against clear evidence.

And a Tory I will be, etc.

The old proverb doth us tell, Each dog will have his day; And Whig has had his too, For which he'll soundly pay; And a Tory I will be, etc.

For bodkins and for thimbles Now let your tubsters cant; Their confounded tired cause Had never yet more want.

So a Tory I will be, etc.

For ignoramus Toney Has left you in the lurch; And you have spent your money, So, faith, e'en come to Church; For a Tory I will be, etc.

They are of no religion, Be it spoken to their glories, For St Peter and St Paul With them both are Tories; And a Tory I will be, etc.

They're excellent contrivers, I wonder what they're not, For something they can make Of nothing and a plot.

And a Tory I will be, etc.

But now your holy cheat Is known throughout the nation; And a Whig is known to be A thing quite out of fashion.

And a Tory I will be, etc.

Ballad: A New Game At Cards: Or, Win At First And Lose At Last

A popular ballad, written immediately after the restoration of Charles II.; and in which the victorious Cavaliers render honour to General Monk, Duke of Albemarle.

Tune, "Ye gallants that delight to play."

Ye merry hearts that love to play At cards, see who hath won the day; You that once did sadly sing The knave of clubs hath won the king; Now more happy times we have, The king hath overcome the knave.

Not long ago a game was play'd, When three crowns at the stakes were laid; England had no cause to boast, Knaves won that which kings had lost: Coaches gave the way to carts, And clubs were better cards than hearts.

Old Noll was the knave o' clubs, And dad of such as preach in tubs; Bradshaw, Ireton, and Pride Were three other knaves beside; And they play'd with half the pack, Throwing out all cards but black.

But the just Fates threw these four out, Which made the loyal party shout; The Pope would fain have had the stock, And with these cards have whipt his dock.