Numb. 1.
(1)
THE
Weekly Lampoon:
OR,
SATYRICAL REFLECTIONS
On the last Weeks
Publick News LETTERS and OBSERVATOR.
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Introduction.
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AS late I was reading the Common News Letter,
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And after had Ogled the New Observator,
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By th' ones merry lying, and t' others grave fooling,
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I found they were very well worth ridiculing.
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Thought I, if their aim be to make People laugh,
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To do't in Verse Dogril is better by half;
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And therefore these Joking remarks did devise,
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To shew Good from Bad, and the Truths from the Lyes.
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News from Brussels.
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The French, as their Justice did always inspire,
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Salute the Towns passing with Sword and with Fire:
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Nor can the Confederates the Country uphold,
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'Tis thought, without speedy recruiting with Gold;
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By which those may see, whom our Taxes have aw'd,
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Nought's done without Money, at home nor abroad.
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Want of Money, and no ways to get it, is but ill News.
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News from Edinbrough.
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The Scotch (ever Pious) have made a Wise motion,
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To Usher the Senate by a Day of Devotion;
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Where honest Kirk Discipline may be shown plain,
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And Presbyter Jack in his Kingdom shall Reign.
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Nor in State Affairs did they Politicks want,
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But in the great Council did late make a Grant,
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That as when a Tegue knocks a Wolf on the Pate,
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The Vallorous Action is fee'd by the State.
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So here 'twas propos'd, by a Noble Commander,
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To give him Ten Groats that brought in a Highlander.
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Indifferent good News if they catch them often.
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News from Falmouth.
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An Action uncommon has here blest our Eyes,
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A Dutchman has lately brought in a French Prize;
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But to bate the Joy which the Victory bears,
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The Lading, it seems, only Ballast appears:
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But that's as Fate orders, no shame to the Dutch,
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The Brave fight as stoutly for nothing, as much.
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Great News for Holland and true.
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News from Cork.
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As soon as the New English Forces came down,
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The General order'd to Summon the Town,
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Secure in his Valour, and Fated to win,
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Dispatch[']d a bold Message that he must come in. The
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(2)
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The Governour, that in remembrance had plain
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His Noble Employments all through the last Reign,
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By this bold demand was so daunted and scar'd,
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And by the dry frown in his Visage appear'd,
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That he shut up his Gates, and declar'd to his Men,
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That he sooner would perish than see him agen:
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This Refusal was reckon'd, no doubt, an Affront,
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And now, the Lord knows, what may chance to come on't.
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Whether this be good or bad, true or false, no one could
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tell then to my knowledge.
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News from London.
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The Sages of London, as Prudent as Stout,
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About their Elections are lately fall'n out;
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To choose Common Councils they argue each hour,
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Whilst some doubt their Judgment, as others their Power.
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Some fear that the Party grows weaker, not stronger,
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To fix the Chair handsomly for three years longer,
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And many that to the Church Interest are steady,
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Have boldness to say 't has been too long already,
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That others as honest, should duly Inherit,
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And Moderate Gains, serve for Moderate Merit.
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This breeds a Disunion, and plainly denotes,
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That different Opinions cause different Votes,
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To heal which, they now do intend to resort
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To th' Senate, and humbly prefer their Report:
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Where fluster'd with Law, they'll be reckon'd shrewd Men,
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And with some good Counsel be sent home agen.
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This News is so true, that 'twill be confirm'd at Garra-
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ways every hour o'th' day.
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News from the Observator.
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By th' Gravity that in his Writing appears,
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I fancy this must be an Author in years,
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That Crams us with News of the late Duke of Lorrain,
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And makes a Hodge Podge of Domestick and Foreign.
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The Turks before Nissa not yet being risen,
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Has made him declare that the Duke dy'd by Poyson;
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Which he, perhaps, cunningly thence does Infer,
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Because they Invenom their Weapons in War.
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Else, whether he Dy'd by a Drugg, or the Stone,
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Or the Gout, or Catarrh, in our Case is all one;
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And the same thing as if I should fill up a Treatise,
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How John of Gaunt Dy'd of a strong Diaboetis.
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But the Death of that General he wisely has found,
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Has been the chief reason the Turks have got ground;
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That's more than he knows, and if no better matter,
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Can make up the Jest in a long Observator,
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You'll find when the Wit on't is scan'd to the full,
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The Old one too Timish, the New one too Dull.
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This is true, but no very great News to them that
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haunt Coffee-Houses.
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From the Court of Requests.
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That the King does want Money no News e're can be,
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But that he and the Commons are like to agree,
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Is such News, that we always may hope to be free,
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And the English be Masters once more of the Sea.
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This I affirm for true News.
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