GODFREY'S GHOST, INTRODUCED BY ----. "_Repent great S{r} and be for ever blest, in Heaven with me that happy place of rest._" ANGEL, IN A "ROMAN SHAPE." "_O Chariety! who mercy craves for those: With Bluddy hands that ware his Cruell foes._" WHITEBREAD'S GHOST, WITH A SWORD THROUGH THE BODY. "_I am perplexed with perpetuall fright; but who is this apeares this dreadful night._" HARCOURT'S GHOST, WITH A SWORD THROUGH THE BODY. "_'Tis Godfrey's Ghost I wish all things be well that we may have our Pope of Rome in hell._" A BISHOP. "_Let us depart and Shun their cruell fate, and all repent before it is to late._" CARDINAL. "_Come let us flie with all the Speed we may, Ye Devil els will take us all away._" Below the picture are the verses subjoined: NUNCIO. "Horrors and Death! what _dismal Sights_ Invade His Nightly Slumbers, who in _Blood_ does Trade. The Ghostly Apparitions of the Dead; The _Bless'd_ by Angels; _Damn'd_ by _Demons Lead_; 'Tis sure, _Romes_ Conclave _must_ Amazed stand, When _Souls_ Complaining, thus against _them_ band; Who _All_ but _One_ to please Ambitious ROME, Have Gain'd _Damnation_ for Their Final DOOM. Hear how _They Curse Him_ all, but _He_ who fell. Great _Brittains Sacrifice_ by Imps of Hell; Who shew'd _Their Bloody Vengeance_ in the _Strife_, To Murther _Him_, who Business had for _Life_." POPE. "_How do_ my Eye-Balls _Roul_, and Blood _run back_, _What Tortures at this sight my Conscience Rack_; _Oh!_ Mountains _now fall on me, some Deep Cave_ Pitty me once, _and prove my speedy Grave_. _Involv'd_ in Darkness, _from the Seated_ Light, _Let Me abscond_ in _Everlasting Night_. Torment _me not_; _you Shades, before my time_, _I do confess_, your Downfalls _was_ my Crime; To _Satiate my_ Ambition _and_ Revenge, _I push'd you on to this Immortal Change_. _But Ah! fresh Horrors, Ah! my Power's grown weak_, What art thou Fiend? _from whence? or where? O Speak_; _That in this Frightful Form, a_ Dragon's _hew Presents_ One _Sainted, to_ my _Trembling View?"_ FIEND. "By Hells Grim KING'S Command, on _whom_ I wait, I've brought your Saint his Story to relate; Who from the black _Tartarian_-Fire below, So long beg'd Absence as to let you know His Torments, and the Horrid Cheat condole, You fix'd on him to Rob him of his Soul." POPE. "_O! spare my Ears, I'll no such Horrors hear;_" COLEMAN.