‘Was your Highness in propriâ personâ to reign,
You could not more justly your empire maintain.’
‘And how does Ben Moadley?’—‘Oh! he’s very well,
A truer blue Whig you have not in hell.’
‘Hugh Peters is making a sneaker within
For Luther, Buchanan, John Knox, and Calvin;
And when they have toss’d off a brace of full bowls,
You’ll swear you ne’er met with much honester souls.
‘This night we’ll carouse in spite of all pain.
Go, Cromwell, you dog, and King William unchain,