The Traitors Trouble;
OR,
His sad Lamentation,
In the Gaol of Newgate, under the Sense of Guilt and Condemnation before his
Execution. Tune of Johnson's Farewell. Licensed according to Order.
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1.
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ALas! within these Prison Walls,
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I here lamenting lye,
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My melting Tears like showers fall,
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being Condemn'd to dye:
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I own I did the Laws offend,
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unto a high degree,
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Which brings my Glory to an end,
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yet none can pity me.
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2.
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We did in Consultation meet,
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the Kingdom to betray;
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But Providence did us defeat,
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and I alas! must pay
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For this black Crime my dearest Breath;
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no Friends I have, I see,
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Thousands may come to see my Death,
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yet none will pity me.
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3.
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Alas! by our malicious Spleen;
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this Plot we did invent,
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First to Dethrone the King and Queen,
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then change the Government;
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Which to the World I do declare,
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in my Extremity,
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My Grief is more than I can bear,
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yet none can pity me.
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4.
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The French we reckon'd to inform
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how the Affairs did go,
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That they might come in like a storm,
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in fine, to overthrow
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The Laws of this my Native Land;
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now for this Villany,
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A Traytor I condemned stand,
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no Soul can pity me.
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5.
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The Royal Fleets, and Forts also,
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how they were fortified;
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We did intend to let France know,
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that it might be their Guide:
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All this we did for cursed Rome,
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and now at length I see,
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A shameful Death will be my Doom,
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yet none can pity me.
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6.
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Over to France we being bound,
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then safe to be convey'd,
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In ready Cash one Hundred pound
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we to the Master paid:
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We streightways then did hoist up Sail,
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yet took immediately;
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My wretched State I now bewail,
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yet who can pity me.
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7.
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We under Hatches then did scout,
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when any Ship drew near;
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At length the Captain found us out,
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which made us quake for fear,
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And Conscience in my Face did fly
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for my gross Villany;
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And now I lye condemn'd to dye,
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yet who can pity me?
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8.
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I proffer'd then great Summs of Gold,
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to be set free at first,
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The Loyal Captain brave and bold,
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would not betray his Trust:
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Before the Counsel I was brought,
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to hear my Destiny,
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My own Destruction I have wrought,
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what Soul can pity me!
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9.
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Instead of sailing o'er to France,
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to Prison was I sent,
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Alas! this most unhappy Chance,
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do's cause me to lament:
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Was e'er Man so unfortunate,
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to plot for Popery;
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I weep to see my wretched State,
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no Soul can pity me.
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10.
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Before I dye I here will own
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what Pranks I meant to play,
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The King and Queen first to Dethrone,
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and after that betray
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Religion, Laws, and all that's good,
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to bring in Popery;
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To make the Kingdom swim in bloud,
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what Soul will pity me!
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