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Though people now walk in great fear
Alongst the country everywhere:

Thieves shall then tremble at the Law;
And Justice shall keep them in awe!
The Frenches shall flee, with their treachery;

And the King's foes ashamed remain.
The which you shall see, when time it shall be,
That the King comes home in peace again.

The Parliament must willing be,
That all the World may plainly see,
How they do labour still for Peace;

That now these bloody wars may cease.
For they will gladly spend their lives to defend
The King in all his right to reign!

So then I can tell, all things will be well,
When we enjoy sweet Peace again.

When all these things, to pass shall come;
Then, farewell, musket! pike! and drum!
The lamb shall with the lion feed;
Which were a happy time indeed!
0, let us all pray, we may see the day,

That Peace may govern in his name!
For then I can tell, all things will be well,

When the King comes home in peace again.


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BEAUTY and LovE once fell at odds;
And thus reviled each other.
Quoth Love, 'I am one of the Gods;
And you wait on my mother!
Thou hast no power o'er Man at all;
But what I gave to thee!

Nor art thou longer fair, or sweet;
Than men acknowledge me!'

'Away, fond Boy!' then BEAUTY said,
'We see that thou art blind!
But men have knowing eyes, and can
My graces better find.

'Twas I begot thee, mortals know;

And called thee, "blind Desire." I made thy arrows, and thy bow; And wings to kindle fire!'

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To punish this proud Maid.

So Beauty, ever since, hath been

But courted for an hour!

To love a day, is now a sin
'Gainst CUPID and his power.




SHE 's not the fairest of her name;

But yet She conquers more than all the race! For She hath other motives to inflame,

Besides a lovely face!

There's wit and constancy;

And charms that strike the soul more than the eye! 'Tis no easy Lover knows, how to discover

Such divinity!

But yet She is an easy book,

Written in plain language for the meaner wit; A stately garb, and yet a gracious look;

With all things justly fit.

But Age will undermine

This glorious outside, that appears so fine!
When the common Lover

Shrinks, and gives her over;

Then, She's only mine!

To the Platonic, that applies

His clear addresses only to the Mind;

The body but a Temple signifies,

Wherein the Saint 's inshrined.

To him, it is all one,

Whether the walls be marble, or rough stone! Nay, in Holy Places which old Time defaces, More devotion 's shown!




WHY, Shepherd, there's the Plot! The surest way To take the fish, is give her leave to play; And yield her line. He best can cure the cause, That marks th' effect. Evil manners breed good laws. The wise Assembly, knowing well the length Of the rude popular foot, with what a strength The vulgar fancy still pursues the toy That 's last presented, leaves them to enjoy Their uncontrollèd wills; until they tire, And quickly surfeit on their own desire: Whose wild disorders secretly confess Needful support of what they'd most suppress. But who comes here? ANARCHUS!



'Tis the same.

How like a meteor, made of zeal and flame,

The man appears!


Or like a blazing star!

Portending change of State, or some sad War,
Or death of some good Prince.

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The squib, the ignis fatuus, of Religion !
But he 's at hand. ANARCHUS! what's the news?

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