%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> THE TIME-SERVERS: Or, A TOUCH OF THE TIMES. / Being a DIALOGUE between / Tory, Towzer, and Tantivee, / At the News of the Dissolution of the / Late Worthy Parliament at Oxford. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1681-1681 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/08/2012 32434

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R4526 REader, here is presented to thy View / The true Effigies of a Popish Crew: Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 183926 THE TIME-SERVERS: Or, A TOUCH OF THE TIMES. / Being a DIALOGUE between / Tory, Towzer, and Tantivee, / At the News of the Dissolution of the / Late Worthy Parliament at Oxford. THE TIME-SERVERS: Or, A TOUCH OF THE TIMES. Being a DIALOGUE between Tory, Towzer, and Tantivee, At the News of the Dissolution of the Late Worthy Parliament at Oxford. THE TIME-SERVERS: Or, A TOUCH OF THE TIMES. Being a DIALOGUE between Tory, Towzer, and Tantivee, At the News of the Dissolution of the Late Worthy Parliament at Oxford. 1681-1681 W.H.

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<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">THE TIME-SERVERS: Or, A TOUCH OF THE TIMES.</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Being a DIALOGUE between</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Tory, Towzer, and Tantivee,</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">At the News of the Dissolution of the</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left">Late Worthy Parliament at Oxford,</seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The EXPLANATION of the FIGURE.</hi></seg>
REader, here is presented to thy View The true Effigies of a Popish Crew: An Irish TORY, and a Popish Priest, And the Cur TOWZER (to make up the jest) All on the speed for Rome; TORY oertakes The Clergy, and, his Company thus bespeaks, Spur on (Sir Priest) Spur on, The days our own, If that a Papist comes tinjoy the Crown: The Parliaments dissolvd, the Coast is clear, No other Obstacles we need to fear: Macmarra cursed be, and Harris too, That lets the world know what it should not do, In spight of all their tricks let us but joyn, Our Forces, all is ours, my life for thine. Do you but prate and write, let me alone To make the way for a Succession By other means, and our Attempts shall be Rewarded both with wealth and dignity; Act with thy Brains, and Ill act with my Sword, Thou shalt a Bishop be, and I a Lord. When that day comes --- With that the Priest spurs on, Bauling (at every jog) Succession: Let things go how they will, better or worse, The Saddle should be laid on the right Horse; Im for the true Successors constant sway Oth British Scepter, let the world say Nay: Let Care himself, and his Fanatick Crew, Say what they will, Princes must have their due. Princes must have their rights, Religion Must always pay its homage to the Crown: Tis my belief, I know no Deity On Earth to be adord, but Soveraignty. The question lies not, how we are tObey Or Suffer, but whose right it is to Sway The Scepter, Theyrs the right, the dutys ours, To be obedient to the Higher Powers.
Conscience, that silly thing, that keeps in awe The trembling Vulgar, must not check the Law; The Laws of Empire are most sacred things, People will have their due, and why not Kings. The times were glorious, and the Nation flourishd, When th English Church by Mother Church was nourishd. But since twas weaned from her Breasts, we find How She is wafted, languished and pind; Revenues gone, Promotions scarce and few, Not half enough for the Tantivee-Crew. The times must mend, we must reform the State, And I will dot, or sink under my Fate: Winged with all the haste I can, I come To pay my Homage to the Church of Rome; Towzer run on, and TORY clear the way, Till I a Myter get I will not stay. And then he humd himself, and spurd again A full Tantivee speed with a loose rein, And bended Body; Towzer trips before (As brisk now as he was in times of Yore) And whiles the other bawls Succession, This barks and yelps nothing but Forty-One. A cunning Cur to think to drown our fears Of future dangers with forgotten Years: Well thus they troop together till they come Unto the confines of desired Rome, And here the Holy-Father ready stands With smiling Countenance, and reared Hands Lift up to bless them, In the one is Gold, The other doth a gorgeous Myter hold, These (as the guerdons of their merits) he Allures them with; And thus betrayd are we Twixt our known Enemies, and feigned friends, Ayming by serving thus their own base ends, Us into Popish Slavery to bring, Which God in Heaven prevent --- God Save the King.
FINIS. London, Printed for W.H. and are to be Sold by R. Janeway in Pater-Noster-Row. 1681.