Classic Poem

How we shall please ye now I cannot say;
But Sirs, 'Faith here is News from Rome today;
Yet know withal, we've no such Packets here,
As you read once a Week from Monkey CARE .
But 'stead of that Lewd Stuff (that clogs the Nation)
Plain Love and Honour; (tho quite out of Fashion;)
Ours is a Virgin Rome , long, long, before
Pious Geneva Rhetorick call'd her Whore;
For be it known to their Eternal Shames,
Those Saints were always good at calling Names:
Of Scarlet Whores let'em their Wills devise,
But let e'm raise no other Scarlet Lies ;
Lies that advance the Good Old Cause , and bring
Into Contempt the Prelates with the KING.
Why shou'd the Rebel Party be affraid?
They're Ratts and Weazles gnaw the Lyon 's Beard,
And then in Ignoramus Holes they think,
Like other Vermin, to lie close, and stink.
What have ye got ye Conscientious Knaves ,
With all your Fancy'd Power , and Bully Braves ?
With all your standing to't ; your Zealous Furies ;
Your Lawless Tongues , and Arbitrary Juries ?
Your Burlesque Oaths , when one Green-Ribbon-Brother
In Conscience will be Perjur'd for another?
Your Plots, Cabals ; Your Treats, Association ,
Ye shame, Ye very Nusance of the Nation,
What have ye got but one poor Word? Such Tools
Were Knaves before; to which you've added Fools .
Now I dare swear, some of you Whigsters say,
Come on, now for a swinging Tory Play.
But, Noble Whigs , pray let not those Fears start ye,
Nor fright hence any of the Sham Sheriffs Party ;
For, if you'l take my censure of the story,
It is as harmless as e're came before ye,
And writ before the times of Whig and Tory .