“The Presbyterians, sick of too much freedom,
Are ripe for Bethle’m, it’s high time to bleed ’em,
The Second Charles does neither fear nor need ’em.
“I’ll have the world know that I can dissipate
Those Impolitick Mushrooms of our State,
’Tis easier to dissolve than to create.
“They shan’t cramp Justice with their feigned flaws;
For since I govern only by the Laws, (!)
Why they should be exempt, I see no cause.”
The actual “Oxford Poem” in the Bagford Collection is addressed:—
“ON PARLIAMENT REMOVING FROM LONDON TO OXFORD.
“You London lads be merry,
Your Parliament friends have gone
That made us all so sorry
And would not leave us alone.”
“THE WHIGS’ DOWNFALL.
“To perfect which, they made their choice
Of parliaments of late,
Of members that had nought but voice,
And Megrims in their pate.
Wi Williams he the Speaker was,
And is’t not wondrous strange;
The reason’s plain, he told it was,
Because they would not change;
He told you truth, nor think it strange;
He knew well their intent,
They never meant themselves to change,
But change the Government.
For now cry they ‘The King’s so poor,
He dares not with us part;
And therefore we most loyally
Will break his royal heart.’”
For a fine, ancient, divine-right-of-kings effusion commend us to the following full-flavoured High Tory manifesto:—