THE
Loyal Protestants
NEW
LITANY.
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FRom the Romish Whore with her Tripple Crown,
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From the Plots she hath hatch'd, and her Babes now disown,
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Though they dy'd with a Lie in their mouth is well known.
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Libera nos Domine.
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From such as presume to speak ill of Queen Bess,
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From a Popish Midwife in a Sanctifyed Dress,
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Adorn'd with a wooden Ruff for a Crest
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Libera nos, etc.
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From Judas the Pursebearers Protestant face,
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From any more of his Machiavel race
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That henceforth may ever succeed in his place
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Libera nos, etc.
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From a Doctor that durst prepare such a Dose
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That would take a Protestant Prince by the Nose,
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(Although it be spoken under the Rose.)
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Libera nos, etc.
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From a Papist that Curses the Catholick Whore,
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Although in his heart he the same do adore,
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And still is contriving more Plots than before,
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Libera nos, etc.
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From a Jefuit drest up in Masquerade,
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That understands his Blood-thirsty Trade,
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That can neither by Justice or Mercy be laid.
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Libera nos, etc.
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From Bumpkin and Citt that at random do range,
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And for a Sham-Plot do true honesty change,
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Though come off by the LEE, methinks it is STRANGE.
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Libera nos, etc.
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From such a hard Fortune as barely to write
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But only for Bread from Morning till Night;
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That would more than a Crack-farts Courage affright.
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Libera nos, etc.
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From those that Sedition do daily invent
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To render a breach and gross discontent
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Betwixt our Great King and Loyal Parliament,
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Libera nos, etc.
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From such as do daily possess us with fears,
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And yet at the same do prick up their ears,
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Which care not which Course our Council now Steers.
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Libera nos, etc.
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That the Romish Whore may be stript of her dress,
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And cast in the Pit that is call'd bottomless;
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That her Plots, Loyal Subjects no more may distress.
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Quesimus te Domine.
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That Queen Besses Enemies run the same Fate
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As lately they did in the last Eighty eight,
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May never one want to peep through a Grate.
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Quesimus, etc.
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That the Purse-bearer Judas his Protestant face
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May never resume his former high place,
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Except for to fall in Eternal Disgrace.
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Quesimus, etc.
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That the Doctor beyond Sea in spight of his skill,
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May never return, but keep close there still;
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Or else may he Die by his own Poysonous Pill.
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Quesimus, etc.
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That Popish Curr in honest disguise
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That Curses us all before he do rise,
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May his Plots be confounded though never so wise.
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Quesimus, etc.
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That such whose hands are still dipt in Blood,
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And intend to make second Noah's Flood,
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That all such may perish, and all of their Brood,
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Quesimus, etc.
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That such as do render the Plot for a Fable,
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And make it the talk of each Coffee-House Table;
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To enter Heaven Gates may they never be able.
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Quesimus, etc.
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That such as are forced to write but for Bread
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May be by the daily Providence fed,
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Much rather than those who will Plot till they're dead,
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Quesimus, etc.
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That Seditious Spirits may now be supprest,
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And that in true earnest, not only in Jest,
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That such may never more feather their Nest.
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Quesimus, etc.
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That those who do daily posses us with fears,
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May fall themselves together by th' Ears;
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And quit us all from that Cloud which appears.
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Quesimus te Domine.
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