DANGERFIELDs DANCE.
Giving an Account of several Notorious Crimes by him Committed; VIZ,
He pretended to be a DUKE,
And feigned Himself to be MONMOUTH,
With several other PRANKS: For which he was Sentenced
To Stand in the Pillory, to be Whipd at the Carts Arse, and to be sent back to Prison.
This may be Printed, July 2. 1685. R.L.S. Entred according to Order.
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IT is no Wonder in this Crittick Age,
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To see Offenders mounted on the Stage,
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And Shameful Punishment on them attend,
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Who on their Shamming Wits so much depend;
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Scourging and Pillorys fall to their share,
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But all too little to make them beware:
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And Impudence to such a heighth is grown,
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As I believe the like was never known.
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Here you may see how Dangerfields Aspird!
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Who needs would be a Duke! by all admird!
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His subtile Crotchets, and his cunning Pate,
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Hath brought his Person to a dreadful State.
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How he did Scamper, if you did but mind,
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When on his Back he did the Torment find
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Of Scourging Justice, it would make you Smile,
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To see how Fortune did his hopes beguile;
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And brought his feigned Highness to the Lash,
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Till brinish Tears his Brazen-Face did Wash.
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O hapless Dangerfield! thou art mistook,
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That did for Honour and Obedience look.
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Thy great Ambition all Men do Rebuke,
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Could nothing serve, but thou must be a DUKE?
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Fie, fie, it was too great and high a Stile,
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Tho Fortune for a moment seemd to Smile;
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Yet from thy Honour thou camst tumbling down,
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When she once facd about on thee to Frown:
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Old Newgate was the place to Entertain
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The Shamming DUKE, where thou didst long remain;
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Till thou wert Whipt and Scourgd along the Streets,
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Which seemd Sowre Sauce after so many Sweets;
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Yet twas but Just thou shouldst it undergo,
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Because that you such Shirking Tricks did show;
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And brought thee unto Condign Punishment,
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Ift please Your Highness, what was your intent?
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Poor Women to deceive, and get their Coyn,
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It is no better then for to Purloyn;
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And make the World believe thou wert some Spark
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Who had such Honour from thy Servant Mark,
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Like Oats, thy hopes are now in pieces crashd,
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The Brains of thy Ambition out are dashd.
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Whipping, instead of Cringing unto thee,
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Thou mayst expect will now thy Portion be.
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Thy Name forever will be on Record,
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Thou must not be a Duke, nor yet a Lord;
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A Newgate-Bird thou mayst accounted be,
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Highly deserving of the PILLORY.
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And since so Arch and Cunning thou art grown,
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To play such Pranks as ner before was known;
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Tis pitty thou shouldst want of thy Desert,
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Tho now thy Title is not worth a Fart.
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And so Duke Dangerfield I bid adieu,
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A thousand Lashes I bequeath to you;
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And hope you may to others warning be,
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Never to practice such base Villany.
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Your Suffering, you cannot well deny,
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Is the Reward of your Audaucity;
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To this your Reason cannot chuse but yield,
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And now look to your Hits, Duke Dangerfield.
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