To the King (“Great Charles, who full of mercy”).

Great Charles, who full of mercy might'st command
In peace and pleasure this thy native land,
At last take pity on thy tottering throne,
Shook by the faults of others, not thy own;
Let not thy life and crown together end,
Destroyed by a false brother, and false friend.
Observe the danger that appears so near,
And all your subjects do each minute fear:
A drop of poison, or a Popish knife,
Ends all the joys of England with your life.
Brothers, 'tis true, should be by nature kind;
But to a zealous and ambitious mind,
Bribed by a crown on earth, and one above,
There's no more friendship, tenderness, or love.
See in all ages what examples are
Of monarchs murdered by the impatient heir.
Hard fate of princes, who will ne'er believe,
Till the stroke's struck which they can ne'er retrieve!