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EBBA 37582

British Library - Bagford
Ballad XSLT Template
The Plotters BALLAD:
Being JACK KETCHs Incomparable Receipt
For the Cure of Trayterous Recusants:
Or wholesome Physick for a Popish Contagion.
Licensed December the 2d. 1678.
To the Tune of No, no, 'tis in vain.
The Explanation of the Cutt,
Coleman drawn on a Sledge to
the place of Execution, with
the Popes Pardon in his hand,
speaking these words out of his
mouth, I am Sick of a Tray-
terous Disease.
And Jack Ketch, with a
Hatchet in one Hand, and a
Rope in the other hand,
saying,
Here's your Cure Sir.

1.
NO, no, 'tis in Vain, Plot again and again,
Contrive as long as you will,
Your Cost, Labour, Policies, all is in vain,
Our Protestants shall Flourish still:
Let your Jesuits fret, and practice their Skill,
Let the POPE and his Council assist,
Our Church stands secure upon Sion Hill,
Let them try to Destroy it that List.

2.
All the Art you can use, is too little you'l find,
To bring in your Beads into Fashion,
We like not your Devotion, your zeal is too blind
For so Sober a Protestant Nation.
Set your Engines to work, lay your Traps all about
You'l catch but few Souls I believe,
Your Plots and Snares, which occasion your fears,
Will prove Vain, and their Authors deceive.

3
Your Gun-Powder-Treason, and Spanish Invasion,
Are motives too weak to prevail,
Blood will not move us unto your perswasion,
'Till our Senses and Reason do fail.
We dislike you the more for your Bloody designs,
Such Arts will no Proselites gain,
We're afraid to come near to the Roman confines
Where so many poor Martyrs were Slain.

4.
Your Doctrine is Famous in every Nation,
You convince and convert us in Blood,
Where ever you come, there's no want of vexation,
This we have long since understood.
Queen Mary Converted by Faggot and Fire,
And so would you do if you might;

But blessed be God there's no need for the same,
For we read by a far better Light.

5.
Send whom you think fit, send some of the Crue
From the Cells of Pluto below,
Send more of your Money, your Plots to persue,
And hope you may yet give the Blow.
Heaven we hope, with deserved Fates,
Will break the stiff Neck of your Plots,
And your Politick Heads shall Hang on our Gates,
And Preach to such Treacherous Sots.

6.
Send o're to your Popish Bogg-Trotters in hast,
Two Hundred Thousand Pounds more,
Send some Infernal (that no time will wast)
To do what you could not before.
Let him try by his Magick if that can prevail,
To lay our great Ormond in Dust,
And if once again your Mischiefs do fail,
Conclude that Gods Judgments are just.

7.
Send to St. Omers, and send to Lashee,
Take Ashbies instructions, they're reckon'd the best,
Wake-man, and give some Physitian a Fee,
He perhaps may do more than the rest.
If Physick should fail, use some other thing,
There's Ruffians enough to be had;
Send them to Windser to Murther a King,
Then the Devil and the Pope will be glad.

8.
But what says your Conscience to all these damn'd Plots,
Has the Devil quite pluck out its Tongue?
No wonder you meet with so many shrewd blots
Since Conscience lies sleeping so long;

How shall we wak't, with Cravats or with Swords?
Alas no, I see but small hope,
It's in vain, its in vain, to spend many words,
We must rouz't by a Sledge and a Rope.

9.
Then Mount Mr. Stayley, for its to be fear'd,
By what you but lately have said,
That your Roman Conscience will still be much fear'd,
Until on a Sledge it is laid.
And rise Monsieur Coleman, Jack Ketch is your Debtor,
He'l Cure you of a hard Heart,
Truly I fancy you will be much better
Before you do come from his Cart.

10.
You are Sick I am told, ev'n Sick unto Death,
And of a Rebellious Disease,
A Hempen Cravat to stop up your Breath,
Will give you abundance of Ease.
And good Mr. Ink-horn prepare for the same,
Squire Ketch now shall give you your Fee;
He is known to be a Splitter of Fame,
And you were best with him to Agree.

11.
Thus you Jesuits, Priests, and Gentlemen, all
That are of the Red-Letter Rout,
Jack has ready, if into his hands you do fall,
An Infallible Cure without doubt.
And if Holy Father himself he were here,
He dares venture a Catholick Rally,
His Receipt of the Noose should suit the Popes ear
As well as with Coleman or Staley.


FINIS.
LONDON, Printed for H.B. in the Year 1678.

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