The Little Infant Titus

As Bully doth Lament when Cully Dy's,
And the poor Bum for Follower rubs his Eyes,
So the Distressed Brethren of the Nation
Weep, Mourn and Sob, with forest Lamentation,
To see their Quondam Saint, this Idol Thing
Thus unto Justice made an Offering:
The Doctor's gone, the Traytor still is here,
Insect of Hell, a Forsworn Murderer:
Oh! Blessed Sight! how we our selves should Bless
If that he now was Cloak'd, the only Dress
That is a Scandal unto Holiness.
Draw near ye Blood-Hounds, you that fain would bring
States to Confusion, Ruine to a King;
Draw near, and the great Swearing Master see
With Zeal profound advance the Pillory,
To which his Fathers Copy made him Free:
For since he was Ambitious, he should have
The Pillory conferred as a Grave.
See how he stands, tho Infamous and Base,
And Damn's all those that do not give him Place,
True Swearers glory in a Brazon Face.
Approach, Approach ye Blessed Sons of Hell,
That only do in Villanies Excell
To the Black Book, whether he will or not
You see he's come, and must abide his Lot:
His shameless Actions now might Shame the Devil,
That Scorns not to be thought the sum of Evil:
He was resolv'd to seek out nothing less
Than th' very Quintiscence of Wickedness.

Hence then Geneva Trash, you'r out of Date,
When Loyalty appears, you Dissipate:
Shine on ye Loyal Souls, and let these see
Maugre their Hellish Arts and Treachery,
That you shall Shine thus to Eternity.
But if this Imp of Hell shall come t' Expire,
Impenitent, how will the Damn'd Admire
The Flames that he will add unto their Fire!
Thus the Reward of Faction here will be
Shame, or to Dangle on the Fatal Tree,
Hereafter Horrour, Pain, and Misery,