The character of a London-diurnall with severall select poems / by the same author.

The character of a London-diurnall with severall select poems / by the same author.

Table of contents

Title page

THE CHARACTER OF A London-Diurnall.

POEMS.

Square-Cap.

Marke Anthony.

The Authours Mock-Song to Marke Anthony.

Vpon an Hermophrodite.

The Authors Hermaphrodite, made after M. Randolphs death, yet inserted into his Poems.

Vpon Phillis walking in a morning before Sun-rising.

Vpon a Miser that made a great feast, and the next day dyed for griefe.

A young Man to an old Woman Courting him.

To Mrs. K. T. who askt him why hee was dumb.

A faire Nimph scorning a black Boy Courting her.

Vpon the death of M. King drowned in the Irish Seas.

A Dialogue between two Zealots, upon the &c. in the Oath.

Smectymnuus, or the Club-Divines.

The Mixt Assembly.

The Kings Disguise.

The Rebell Scot.

Rupertismus.

Epitaphium Thomae Comitis Straffordii, &c.

Additionall Poems by uncertain AUTHORS.

The Scots Apostasie.

Epitaph on the Earl of Strafford.

On the Archbishop of Canterbury.

On I. VV. A. B. of York.

§

§

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THE CHARACTER OF A London-Diurnall: VVith severall select POEMS:

By the same Author.

Optima & novissima Editio.

Printed in the Yeere MDCXLVII.

THE CHARACTER OF A London-Diurnall.

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A Diurnall is a puny Chronicle, scarce pin-feather'd with the wings of time: It is an Historie in Sippets; the English Iliads in a Nut-shell; the Apocryphall Parliaments book of Macca bees in single sheets. It would tire a Welch-pedigree, to reckon how many aps 'tis remov'd from an Annall: For it is of that Extract; onely of the younger Ho [...]se, like a Shrimp to a Lobster The originall sinner in this kind was Dutch; Galliobelgicus the Protoplast; and the moderne Mercuries but Hans-en-Kelders. The Countesse of Zealand was brought to bed of an Almanack; as many Children, as daies in the yeare. It may be the Legislative Lady is of that Linage; so she spawnes the Diurnalls, and they at VVestminster, take them in Adoption, by the names of Scoticus, Civicus, Britanicus. In the Frontispice of the old Beldame-Diurnall, like the Contents of the Chapter, sits the House of Commons judging the twelve Tribes of Israel, You may call them the Kingdomes Anatomy before the weekly Kalender: For such is a Diurnall, the day of the moneth, with what weather in the Common-wealth. 'Tis taken for the Pulse of the Body-Politique; and the Emperick-Divines of the Assembly, those spirituall Dragooners, thumbe it accordingly. Indeed it is a prity Synopsis; and those grave Rabbies (though in point of Divinity) trade in no larger Authors. The Countrey-Carrier, when he buyes it for their Vicar, miscalls it the Vrinall: yet properly enough; For it casts the water of the State, ever since it staled blood. It differs from an Aulicus, as the Devill and his Exorcist; or as a black Witch doth from a white one, whose office is to unravell her inchantments.

It begins usually with an Ordinance, which is a Law still-borne, dropt, before quickned by the Royall assent: 'Tis one of the Parliaments [Page] liaments by-blowes, (Acts only being legitimate) and hath no more Syre, then a Spanish Gennet, that's begotten by the wind.

Thus their Militia (like its Patron, Mars) is the issue onely of the mother, without the concourse of Royall Iupiter.

Yet Law it is, if they vote it, though in defiance of their Fundamentalls; like the old Sexton, who swore his Clock went true, what ever the Sun said to the contrary.

The next Ingredient of a Diurnall is plots, horrible plots; which with wonderfull Sagacity it hunts dry-foot, while they are yet in their Causes, before Materia prima can put on her smock. How many such fits of the Mother have troubled the Kingdome, and (for all Sir VValter Earle looks like a Man-Midwife) not yet delivered of so much as a Cushion? But Actors must have their Properties; And, since the Stages were voted downe, the onely Playhouse is at VVestminster.

Suteable to their plots are their Informers; Skippers and Taylours; Spaniells both for the Land and the VVater: Good conscionable Intelligence! For, however Pym's Bill may inflame the reckoning, the honest Vermyn have not so much for lying, as the Publique Faith.

Thus a zealous Botcher in Morefields, while he was contriving some Quirpo-cut of Church-Government, by the help of his outlying Eares, and the Otacousticon of the Spirit, discovered such a plot, that Selden intends to combate Antiquity, and maintain it was a Taylors Goose, that preserved the Capitol.

I wonder my Lord of Canterbury is not once more all-to-betraytor'd for dealing with the Lions, to settle the Commission of Array in the Tower. It would do well to cramp the Articles Dormant, besides the opportunity of reforming those Beasts of the Prerogative, and changing their prophaner names of Harry and Charles, into Nehemiah and Eleaz [...]r.

Suppose a Corne-cutter, being to give little Isa [...]c a cast of his Office, should fall to paring his Browes, mistaking the one end for the other; because he branches at both. This would be a plot; and the next Diurnall would furnish you with this Scale of Votes.

Resolved upon the Question, that this Act of the Corncutters was an absolute Invasion of the Cities Charter, in the representative Forehead of Isaac. Resolved, that the evill Councellours about [Page] the Corncutter are Popishly affected, and Enemies to the State. Resolved, that there be a publike Thanksgiving for the great deliverance of Isaac's Brow-antlers; and a solemne Covenant drawn up, to defie the Corn-cutter, and all his works.

Thus the Quixotes of this Age fight with the Windmills of their own heads; quell Monsters of their own creation, make plots, and then discover them; as who fitter to unkennell the Fox, then the Tarryer, that is a part of him.

In the third place march their Adventures; the Roundheads Legend, the Rebels Romance; Stories of a larger size, then the Eares of their Sect; able to strangle the Beliefe of a Soli-fidian.

I'le present them in their order; and first, as a Whiffeler before the show, enter Stamford, one that trod the Stage with the first, travers'd his ground, made a legge and Exit. The Countrey-people took him for one, that by Order of the Houses was to dance a Morice through the West of England. Well, hee's a nimble Gentleman, set him but upon Bankes his Horse in a Saddle Rampant, and it is a great question, which part of the Centaure shewes better trickes.

There was a Vote passing to t [...]nslate him, with all his Equipage into Monumentall-Gingerbread; [...] it was cross'd by the Female-Committee, alleadging that the v [...]our of his Image would bite their Children by the Tongues.

This Cubit and an halfe of Commander, by the helpe of a Diurnall, routed his enemies fifty miles off: 'tis strange you'l say, and yet it is generally believed, he would as soon do it at that distance, as nearer hand. Sure it was his Sword, for which the weap [...]n-salve was invented: that so wounding and healing, like loving Correlates, might both work at the same removes.

But the squibbe is run to the end of the Rope. Rome, for the Prodigy of Valour, Madam Atropos in breeches; Wallers Knighterrantry: and, because every Mountibanke must have his Z [...]ny, throw him in Haslerigge, to set off his story: these two like Bell and the Dragon, are alwaies worshipped in the same Chapter: they hunt in their Couples, what one doth at the head, the other scores up at the heele.

Thus they kill a man over and over, as Hopkins and St [...]rnhold murder the Psalmes, with another to the same; one chimes all in, and then the other strikes up, as the Saints-Bell.

[Page]I wonder, for how many lives my Lord Hoptons Soule took the [...]ease of his Body.

First, St [...]mford slew him: then Waller out-killed that halfe a [...]rre: and yet it is thought the sullen corps would scarce bleed, were both these Man-slayers never so near it.

The fame goes of a Dutch Heads-man, that he would do his office with so much ease and dexterity, that the Head after execution should stand still upon the shoulders: pray God Sir William be not Probationer for the place. For, as if he had the like knack too, most of those, whom the Diurnall hath slain for him, to us poore Mortals seem untoucht.

Thus these Artificers of Death can kill the man, without wounding the body, like Lightning, that melts the Sword, and never singes the Scabbard.

This is the William, whose Lady is the Conquerour; This is the Cities Champion, and the Diurnalls Delight; he, that Cuckolds the Generall in his Commission: for, he stalks with Essex, and shoots under his belly, because his Oxcellency himself is not charged there. Yet in all this triumph there is a whip and a bell; translate but the Scene to Round-way-downe: Th [...]re Hasleriggs Lobsters were turned into Crabs, and crawl'd backwards; there poor Sir William ran to his Lady for a use of consolation.

But the Diurnall is weary of the Arm of flesh, and now begins an Hosanna to Cromwell, one that hath beat up his Drums cleane through the Old Testament: you may learn the Genealogie of our Savio [...]r, by the names in his Regiment: The Muster-master uses no other List, then the first Chapter of Matthew.

With what face can they object to the King the bringing in of Forraigners, when themselves entertain such an Army of Hebrewes? This Cromwell is never so valorous, as when he is making Speeches for the Association, which neverthelesse he doth somwhat ominously, with his neck awry, holding up his eare, as if he expected Mahomets Pidgeon to come, and prompt him: He should be a Bird of prey too, [...]y his bloody b [...]ake: his nose is able to try a young Eagle, wh [...]ther she be lawfully begotten. But all is not Gold that glisters: What we wonder at in the rest of them, is naturall to him, to kill without blood-shed: For, most of his Trophees are in [...] Church-Window; when a Looking-Glasse would shew him more Superstition: He is so perfect a hater of Images, that he hath defaced [Page] Gods in his own Countenance. If he deale with Men, it is when he takes them napping in an old Monument: Then downe goes dust and ashes: and the stoutest Cavalier is no better. Obrave Oliver! Times Voyder, Sub-sizer to the Wormes; in whom Death, that formerly devoured our Ancestors, now chewes the Cud: He said Grace once, as if he would have fallen aboard with the Marquesse of Newcastle: Nay, and the Diurnall gave you his Bill of Fare; But it proved but a running Banquet, as appeares by the Story. Beleeve him as he whistles to his Cambridge Teeme of Committee-men, and he doth Wonders. But Holy men (like the Holy language) must be read backwards. They ri [...]le Colledges, to promote Learning; and pull down Churches for Edification. But Sacriledge is intailed upon him: There must be a Cromwell for Cathedralls, as well as Abbeyes: A secure sinner, whose offence carries its pardon in its mouth: For, how can he be hanged for Churchrobbery, which gives it selfe the benefit of the Clergie?

But for all Cromwells Nose wears the Dominicall Letter, yet compared with Manchester, he is but like the Vigills to an Holy-day. This, this, is the man of God; so sanctified a Thunder-bolt, that Burrowes in a proportionable blasphemy to his Lords of Hosts, would stile him the Archangell, giving Battell to the Devill.

Indeed, as the Angells, each of them makes a severall Species; so every one of his Souldiers is a distinct Church. Had these Beasts been to enter the Arke, it would have pazled Noah to have sorted them into paires. If ever there were a rope of Sand, it was so many Sects twisted into an Association.

They agree in nothing, but that they are all Adamites in Understanding: It is the sign of a Coward, to winke, and fight; yet all their Valour proceeds from their Ignorance.

But I wonder whence their Generals purity proceeds; it is not by Traduction: if he was begotten Saint, it was by Equivocall Generation: for the Devill in the Father, is turn'd Monk in the Son; so his godlinesse is of the same Parentage with good Lawes; both extracted out of bad Manners; and would he alter the Scriptute, as he hath attempted the Creed, he might vary the Text, and say to Corruption, Thou art my Father.

This is he, that hath put out one of the Kingdoms eyes, by clouding our Mother-University, and (if the Scotch mist further prevaile) will extinguish this other: He hath the like quarrell to both; because [Page] both are strung with the same Optick Nerve, knowing Loyalty. Barbarous Rebell! who will be revengd upon all Learning, because his Treason is beyond the Mercy of the Book.

The Diurnall as yet hath not talkt much of his Victories: but there is the more behind: For the Knight must alwaies beat the Gyant; That's resolv'd. If any thing fall out amisse, which cannot be smothered, the Diurnall hath a help at Maw; It is but putting to Sea, and taking a Danish Fleet; or brewing it with some successe out of Ireland, and it goes down merrily.

There are more Puppets, that move by the Wyre of a Diurnall; as Brereton and Gell; two of Mars his Petty-toes, such snivelling Cowards, that it is a favour to call them so; was Brereton to fight with his teeth, as in all other things he resembles the beast, he would have odds of any man at the weapon; O hee's a terrible slaughterman at a Thanks-giving Dinner, had he been a Canniball to have eaten those that he vanquish'd, his gut would have made him valiant.

The greatest wonder is at Fairfax, how he comes to be a Babe of Grace? Certainly it is not in his personall, but (as the State Sophies distinguish) in his Polotique Capacity; regenerated ab extra, by the zeale of the House he sate in, as Chickens are hatcht at Grand Cairo, by the adoption of an Oven.

There is the Wood-Monger too, a feeble crutch to a declining cause, a new Branch of the old Oake of Reformation.

And now I speak of Reformation, vous avez Fox, the Tinker; the liveliest Embleme of it that may be; For what did this Parliament ever go about to reforme, but Tinker-wise, in mending one hole they made three.

But I have not inke enough to cure all the Tetters and Ringwormes of the State.

I will close up all thus. The Victories of the Rebels are like the Magicall combate of Apuleius; who, thinking he had slain three of his Enemies, found them at last, but a Triumvirate of Bladders. Such, and so empty, are the Triumphs of a Diurnall: but so many impostumated Fancies, so many Bladders of their own blowing.

FINIS.

POEMS.

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Square-Cap.

COme hither Apollo's bouncing Girle,

And in a whole Hippocrene of Sherry

Let's drink a round till our braines do whirle,

Tuning our pipes to make ourselves merry:

A Cambridge-Lasse, Venus-like, borne of the froth

Of an old half-fill'd Jug of Barley broth,

She, she is my Mistris, her Suiters are many,

But shee'l have a Square-cap if ere she have any.

And first for the Plush-sake the Monmouth-cap coms,

Shaking his head like an empty bottle;

With his new-fangled Oath, By Iupiters thumbs,

That to herhealth hee'l begin a pottle:

He tells her that after the death of his Grannam,

He shall have—God knowes what per annum:

But still she replies, good Sir La-bee,

If ever I have a man, Square-cap for mee.

Then Calot-Leather-cap strongly pleads,

And faine would derive the pedigree of fashion:

The Antipodes weare their shoes on their heads,

And why may not we in their imitation?

Oh, how this foot-ball noddle would please,

If it were but well tost on S. Thom [...] his Lees.

But still she replied, &c.

[Page]

Next comes the Puritan in a wrought-Cap,

W [...]th a long-wasted conscience towards a Sister,

And making a Chappell of Ease of her lap,

First he [...]aid grace, and then he kist her.

Beloved, quoth he, thou art my Text,

Then falls he to Use and Application next:

But then she replied, your Text (Sir) I'le be,

For then I'm sure you'l ne'r handle me.

But see where Sattin-Cap scouts about,

And faine would this wench in his fellowship marry,

He told her how such a man was not put out,

Because his wedding he closely did carry.

Hee'l purchase Induction by Simonie,

And offers her money her Incumbent to be.

But still she replied, god Sir La-bee,

If ever I have a man Square-cap for me.

The Law [...]er's a Sophister by his round cap,

Nor in their fallacies are they divided;

The one milks the pocket, the other the tap,

And yet this wench he faine would have brided.

Come leave these thred-bare Schollers, quoth he,

And give me livery and season of thee:

But peace Iohn-a-Nokes, and leave your Oration,

For I never will be your Impropriation.

I pray you therefore good Sir La-bee;

For if ever I have a man Square-cap for me.

[Page]

Marke Anthony.

WHen as the Nightingall chanted her Vespers,

And the wild Forrester couch'd on the ground,

Venus invited me in th'Evening whispers,

Unto a fragrant field with Roses crown'd:

Where she before had sent

My wishes complement,

Unto my hearts content,

Plaid with me on the Green.

Never Marke Anthony

Dallied more wantonly

With the faire Egyptian.

First on her cherry cheeks I mine eys feasted,

Then fear of surfetting made me retire:

Next on her warme lips, which when I tasted,

My duller spirits made active as fire.

Then we began to dart

Each at anothers heart,

Arrowes that knew no smart:

Sweet lips and smiles between.

Never Marke, &c.

Wanting a glasse to plate her amber tresses,

Which like a bracelet rich decked mine arme;

Gawdier then Iuno wears, when as she graces

Iove with embraces more stately then warme,

Then did shee peep in mine

Eyes humour Chrystalline;

I in her eyes was seen,

[Page]As if we one had been.

Never Marke, &c.

Mysticall Grammer of amorous glances,

Feeling of pulses the Physick of Love,

Rhetoricall cour [...]ings, and Musicall Dances;

Numbring of kisses Arithmetick prove.

Eyes like Astronomy,

Streight limb'd Geometry:

In her hearts ingeny

Our wits are sharp and keene.

Never Mark, &c.

The Authours Mock-Song to Marke Anthony.

VVHen as the Night-raven sung Pluto's Mattins,

And Cerberus cried three Amens at a houle,

When night wandring Witches put on their pattins,

Midnight as dark as their faces are foule:

Then did the furies doome

That the night-mare was come;

Such a mis-shapen Groom

Puts downe Su. Pomfret cleane.

Never did Incubus

Touch such a filthy Sus,

As this foule Gypsie Queane.

First on her goosberry cheeks I mine eyes blasted;

Thence feare of vomiting made me retire

[Page]Unto the blewer lips, which when I tasted,

My spirits were duller then Dun in the mire.

But then her breath took place,

Which went an ushers pace,

And made way for her face;

You may guesse what I meane.

Never did, &c.

Like Snaks engendring, were plated her tresses,

Or like the [...]limy streaks of ropy ale;

Uglier then Envy wears, when she confesses

Her head is perewigg'd with Adders taile.

But as soone as she spake,

I heard a harsh Mandrake:

Laugh not at my mistake,

Her head is Epicoene.

Never did, &c.

Mysticall Magick of conjuring wrinckles,

Feeling of Pulses, the Palmestry of Haggs,

Scolding out belches for Rhe [...]orick twinckles;

With three teeth in her head like to three gaggs,

Rainebowes about her eyes,

And her nose weather-wise;

From them th' Almanack lies,

Frost, Pond, and Rivers cleane,

Never did, &c.

[Page]

Vpon an Hermophrodite.

SIr, or Madame, chuse you whether,

Nature twist'd you both together:

And makes thy soule two garbes confesse,

Both Petticoat and Breeches dresse.

Thus we chastise the God of Wine,

With water that is Feminine,

Untill the cooler Nymph abate

His wrath, and so concorporate.

Adam till his rib was lost,

Had both Sexes thus ingrost:

When Providence our Sire did cleave,

And out of Adam carved Eve,

Then did man 'bout Wedlock treat,

To make his body up compleat:

Thus Matrimony speaks but Thee

In a grave solemnity.

For man and wife make but one right

Canonicall Hermophrodite.

Ravell thy body and I finde

In every limb a double kinde.

Who would not thinke that head a paire,

That breeds such faction in the haire [...]

One halfe so churlish in the touch,

That rather then endure so much,

I would my tender limbs apparell

In [...] his nailed barrell:

But the other halfe so small,

And so amo [...]ous [...]ithall,

[Page]That Cupid thinks each haire doth grow

A string for his invis'ble Bow.

When I looke babies in thine eyes,

Here Venus, there Adonis lies.

And though thy beauty be high noone,

Thy Orbe containes both Sun and Moone.

How many melting kisses skip

'Twixt thy Male and Female lip?

'Twixt thy upper brush of haire

And thy nether beards dispaire.

When thou speak'st, I would not wrong

Thy sweetnesse with a double tongue:

But in every single sound

A perfect Dialogue is found.

Thy breasts distinguish one another;

This the [...]ister, that the brother.

When thou joyn'st hands, my eare still fancies

The Nup [...]iall sound, I Iohn take Frances:

Feele but the difference, soft, and rough;

This a Gantlet, that a Muffe:

Had sly Ulysses, at the sacke

Of Troy, brought thee his Pedlers pack,

And weapons too to know Achilles

From King [...] Phillis,

His plot had fail'd; this hand would feele

The Needle, that the warlike steele.

VVhen Musick doth thy pace advance,

Thy right legge takes thy left to dance.

Nor is't a Galliard danc'd by one,

But a mix [...] dance, though alone:

Thus every he [...]eroclite part

Changes gender, but thy heart.

[Page]Nay those which modest can meane,

And dare not speak, are Epicoene;

That Gamester needs must overcome,

That can play both Tib and Tom.

Thus did Natures mintage vary,

Coyning thee a Philip and Mary.

The Authors Hermaphrodite, made after M. Randolphs death, yet inserted into his Poems.

PRobleme of Sexes; must thou likewise be

As disputable in thy Pedigree?

Thou Twins-in-one, in whom Dame Nature tries

To throw lesse then Aumes-ace upon two Dice:

Wer't thou serv'd up two in one dish, the rather

To split thy Sire into a double father?

True, the worlds scales are even: what the maine

In one place gets, another quits againe.

Nature lost one by thee, and therefore must

Slice one in two, to keep her number just:

Plurality of livings is thy state,

And therefore mine must be impropriate.

For, since the child is mine, and yet the claime

Is intercepted by anothers name,

Never did steeple carry double truer,

His is the Donative, and mine the Cure.

Then say my Muse (and without more dispute)

Who 'tis that fame doth superinstitute.

[Page]The Theban Wittall, when he once descries,

Iove is his rivall, falls to sacrifice:

That name hath tipt his hornes: see, on his knees,

A health to Hans-en-Keldar Hercules.

Nay sublunary Cuckolds are content

To entertaine their Fate with complement:

And shall not he be proud, whom Randolph daignes

To quarter with his Muse both Armes and Braines?

Gramercy Gossip; I rejoyce to see

Shee'th got a leap of such a Barbarie.

Talk not of hornes, hornes are the Poets Crest:

For since the Muses left their former nest,

To found a Nunnery in Randolphs quill,

Cuckold Pernassus is a forked hill.

But stay, I've wak't his dust, his Marble stirs,

And brings the wormes for his Compurgators.

Can Ghost have naturall sonnes? say Ogg, is't meet,

Penance beare date after the winding-sheet?

Were it a Phoenix (as the double kinde

May seem to prove, being there's two combin'd)

It would disclaime my right: and that it were

The lawfull Issue of his ashes, sweare.

But was he dead? did not his soule translate

Her selfe into a shop of lesser rate?

Or break up house, like an expensive Lord,

That gives his purse a sob, and lives at board?

Let old Pythagoras but play the Pimp,

And still there's hopes 't may prove his bastard imp.

But I'me prophane; For grant the world had one,

With whom he might contract an union,

They two were one: yet like an Eagle spread,

I'th body joyn'd, but parted in the head.

[Page]For you my brat, that pose the Porph'ry Chaire,

Pope Iohn, or Ioan, or whatsoere you are,

You are a nephew; Grieve not at your state,

For all the world is illegitimate.

Man ca [...]not get a man, unlesse the Sun

Club to the act of generation.

The sun and man get man; thus Tom and I

Are the joynt fathers of thy Poetry.

For since (b [...]est shade) this Verse is Male, but mine

O [...]h weaker [...], a Fancy Foeminine:

[...] th [...] child, and yet commit no slaughter,

Sword [...] shall [...] be thy Son, and yet my Daughter.

Vpon Phillis walking in a morning before Sun-rising.

THe sluggish morn as yet undrest,

My Phyllis brake from out her East;

As if shee'd made a match to run

With Venus, Usher to the Sun.

The trees, like Yeomen of her Guard,

Serving more for pomp, then [...],

Rank'd on each side with loyall duty,

Weave branches to inclose her beau [...]y.

The Plants, whose luxury was lopt,

Or age with crutches underpropt;

Whose wooden carkases are growne

To be but coffi [...]s of their owne;

Revive, and at her generall dole

Each receives his ancient soule.

[Page]The winged Choristers began

To chi [...]p their Mattins: and the Fan

Of whistling winds, like Organs, plai'd,

Untill their Voluntaries made

The wakened earth in odours rise,

To be her morning-Sacrifice.

The flowers, call'd out of their beds,

Start, and raise up their drowsie heads:

And he that for their colour seeks,

May find it vaulting in her cheeks,

Where Roses mix: no civill war

Between her York and Lancaster.

The Marigold, whose Courtiers face

Ecchoes the Sun, and doth unlace

Her at his rise, at his full stop

Packs, and shuts up her gawdy shop;

Mistakes here [...]ue, and doth display.

Thus Phyllis antidates the day.

These miracles had cramp't the Sun,

Who thinking that his kingdom's won,

Powders with light his frizled locks,

To see what Saint his lustre mocks.

The trembling leaves through which he plaid,

Dapling the walk with light and shade,

Like lattice-windowes, give the spie

Room but to peep with halfe an eye;

Least her full Orb his sight should dim,

And bids us all good-night in him,

Till she would spend a gentle ray,

To force us a new-fashion'd day.

But what religious Palsie's this

Which makes the boughs divest their bliss?

[Page]And that they might her foot-steps strawe,

Drop their leaves with shivering awe.

Phillis perceives, and (least her stay

Should wed October unto May;

And as her beauty caus'd a Spring,

Devotion might an Autumne bring)

With-drew her [...], yet made no night,

But left the Sun her Curat [...] light.

Vpon a Miser that made a great feast, and the next day dyed for griefe.

NOr 'scapes he so: our dinner was so good,

My liquorish Muse cannot but chew the cood:

And what delight she tooke i'th' invitation,

Strives to tast o're againe in this relation.

After a tedious Grace in Hopkins r [...]hme,

Not for devotion, but to take up time,

March't the train'd-band of dishes usher'd there,

To shew their postures, and then As they were.

For he invites no teeth, perchance the eye

He will afford the Lovers gluttony;

This is a Feast, a muster, not a fight;

Our weapons not for servie, but for fight.

But are we Tantaliz'd? is all this meat

Cook'd by a Limner, for to view, not eat?

Th' Astrologers keep such Houses when they sup

On joynts of [...]aurus, or their heavenly Tup.

Whatever feasts he made are su [...]'d up here,

His table vyes not standing with his cheare.

[Page]His Churchings, Christ'nings, in this Meale are all,

And not transcrib'd, but i'th Originall.

Christmas is no Feast movable: for loe

The selfe-same dinner was ten yeares agoe:

'T will be immortall if it longer stay,

The Gods will eat it for Am [...]rosia.

But stay awhile; unlesse my whinyard faile,

Or it inc [...]nted, I'le cut off th'intaile.

Sa [...]nt George [...] England then: have at the mutton,

When the first cut calls me [...] gl [...]tto [...]:

What d [...]ax with [...]is anger quodl'd [...]

Killing a sheep thought [...] slaine:

The [...]; wounding his rost,

I [...] up mine host.

Such [...] is with [...]

Makes him an Eunuch, whe [...] it carves his [...].

Cut a Goose-leg, and the poore so [...]le for moane

Turnes Creeple too, a [...]d after stands on one.

Have you not [...]

A Lan [...]aster Grand [...] will report?

The souldier with his Morg [...]y watcht the Mill,

The Cats they came to feast when lust [...]e Will

Whips off great Pusses leg, [...] by so [...]e charme

Proves the next day such an old wom [...]ns arme:

'Tis so with him, whoe cark [...]se never ' [...]capes,

But still we slash him in a thousand sh [...]es.

Our serving-men like Spaniells range [...] [...]o spring

The fowle which he hath clockt [...] his wing.

Should he on Widgeo [...], or on Woodcock feed,

It were (Thyestes-like) on his owne breed.

To porke he pleads a supersti [...]n d [...]e,

But not a mouth is muzled by the [...]ew.

[Page]Sawces we should have none had he his wish,

The Oranges i'th margent of the dish

He with such Hucsters tells them o're and o're,

Th' Hesperian Dragon never watcht them more.

But being eaten now into dispaire,

Having nought else to doe, he falls to prayer:

As thou did'st once put on the forme of Bull,

And turn'st thy lo to a lovely Mull,

Defend my rump great love; grant this poor beefe

May live to comfort me in all this griefe.

But no Amen was said: See, [...]ee it comes,

Draw boyes, let Trumpets sound & strike up Drums.

See how his blood doth with the gravie swim,

And every trencher has a limb of him.

The Ven'sons now in view, our Hounds spend deeper,

Strange Deer, which in the Pasty hath a Keeper

Stricter then in the Park, making his guest

(As he had stoln't alive) to steale it drest:

The scent was hot; and we pursuing faster,

Then Ovids pack of dogs e're chas'd their Master,

A double prey at once may seize upon,

Actaeon and his case of Venison:

Thus was he torne alive. To vex him worse,

Death serves him up now as a second coorse.

Should we, like Thratians, our dead bodies eat,

He would have liv'd only to save his meat.

[Page]

A young Man to an old Woman Courting him.

PEace Beldam Eve; surcease thy suit:

There's no temptation in such fruit.

No rotten Medlers, whil'st there be

Whole Orchards in Virginitie.

Thy stock is too much out of date

For tender plants t'inoculate.

A match with thee thy bridegroome feares

Would be thought Int'rest in his years,

Which when compar'd to thine, become

Odd money to thy Grandam summe.

Can Wedlocke know so great a curse

As putting husbands out to Nurse?

How Pond and Rivers would mistake,

And cry new Almanacks for our sake?

Time sure hath wheel'd about his yeare,

December meeting laniveere.

The Aegyptian Serpent figures time,

And stript, returnes unto his Prime:

If my affection thou would'st win,

First cast thy Hieroglyphick skin.

My moderne lips know not (alack)

The old Religion of thy smack.

I count that primitive embrace,

As out of fashion as thy face,

And yet so long 'tis since thy fall,

Thy Fornication's Classicall.

Our sports will differ: thou may'st play,

Leer [...], and I Alphonso way.

[Page]I'me no Translator; have no veine

To turn a woman young againe:

Unlesse you'l grant the Tailor's due,

To see the forebodies be new:

I love to weare cloaths that are flush,

Not prefacing old rags with plush:

Like Aldermen, or Monster-Sheriffs,

With Canvas Backs, and velvet Sleeves.

And just such discord there would be

Betwixt thy Skeleton and me.

Go study Salve and Treacle, ply

Your tenants leg, or his sore eye;

Thus Matrons purchase credit, thank

Six penni-worth of Mountebank.

Or chew thy cood on some delight

Thou takest in thy Eighty Eight.

Or be but bedrid once, and then

Thou'lt dream thy youthfull sins agen.

But if thou needs wilt be my Spouse,

First hearken, and attend my Vowes.

"When Aet [...]na's fires shall undergo

"The penance of the Alps in snow,

"When Sol at one blast of his horne

"Posts from the C [...]ab to Capricorne,

"When th' Heavens shuffle all in one,

"The Torrid with the Frozen zone;

"When all these contradictions meet,

"Then (Sybill) thou and I will greet.

"For all these similies do hold

"n my young heat and thy dull cold;

"Then if a Feaver be so good

"A Pimp, as to inflame thy blood,

[Page] Hymen shall twist thee, and thy Page,

The distinct Tropicks of Mans age.

Well (Madam Time) be ever bald,

Ile not thy periwig be cal'd.

Ile never be, 'stead of a Lover,

An aged [...]hronicles new cover.

To Mrs. K. T. who askt him why hee was dumb.

STay, should I answer (Lady) then

In vaine would be your question.

Should I be dumb, why then againe

Your asking me would be in vaine.

Silence nor speech (on neither hand)

Can satisfie this strange demand.

Yet since your will throwes me upon

This wished contradiction,

Ile tell you how I did become

So strangely (as you heare me) dumb.

Ask but the chap-falne Puritan,

'Tis zeale that tongue-ties that good man:

For heat of conscience, all men hold,

Is th'onely way to catch that cold.

How should loves zealot then forbear

To be your silenc'd Minister?

Nay your religion which doth grant

A worship due to you my Saint,

Yet counts it that devotion wrong

That does it in the vulgar tongue.

[Page]My ruder words would give offence

To such an hallow'd excellence;

As th'English Dialect would vary

The goodnesse of an Ave Mary.

How can I speak, that twice am checkt

By this and that religious Sect?

Still dumb, and in your face I spie

Still cause, and still Divinitie.

As soon as blest wit [...] your salute,

My manners taught me to be mute:

For, least they cancell all the blisse

You sign'd with so divine a kisse,

The lips you feale must needs consent

Unto the tongues imprisonment.

My tongue in hold, my voice doth rise

(With a strange E [...]la) to my eyes;

Where it gets Baile, and in that sense

Begins a new-found Eloquence.

Oh listen with attentive sight

To what my pratling eyes indite.

Or (Lady) since 'tis in your choice,

To give, or to suspend my voice,

With the same key set ope the doore

Wherewith you lockt it fast before;

Kisse once againe, and when you thus

Have doubly been miraculous,

My Muse shall write with Handmaids duty

The Golden Legend of your Beauty.

He whom his dumbnesse now confines,

But meanes to speak the rest by signes.

I. C.

[Page]

A faire Nimph scorning a black Boy Courting her.

Nimph.

STand off, and let me take the aire;

Why should the smoak pursue the faire?

Boy.

My face is smoak, thence may be guest

What flames within have scorch'd my brest.

Nymph.

The flame of love I cannot view,

For the dark Lanterne of thy hue.

Boy.

And yet this Lanterne keeps loves Taper

Surer then yours, that's of white paper.

Whatever Midnight hath been here,

The Moon-shine of your light can cleare.

Nymph.

My Moon of an Eclipse is 'fraid,

If thou should'st interpose thy shade.

Boy.

Yet one thing (sweet-heart) I will ask,

Buy me for a new false Mask.

Nymph.

Yes: but my bargaine shall be this,

I'le throw my Mask off when I kisse.

Boy.

Our curl'd embraces shall delight

To checquer limbs with black, and white.

Nymph.

Thy ink, my paper, make me guesse,

Our Nuptiall bed will make a Presse;

And in our sports, if any came,

They'l read a wanton Epigram.

Boy.

Why should my Black thy love impaire?

Let the dark shop commend thy ware:

Or if thy love from black forbeares,

I'le strive to w [...]sh it off with teares.

Nymph.

Spare fruitlesse teares, since thou must needs

Still weare about thee mourning weeds:

[Page]Teares can no more affection win,

Then wash thy Aethiopian skin.

Vpon the death of M. King drowned in the Irish Seas.

I Like not teares in tune, nor will prize

His ar [...]ficiall grief that scanns his eyes:

[...] weep down pious beads; but why should I

Con [...]ine them to the Muses Rosarie?

I am no Poet, here my pen's the spout

Where the raine-water of my eyes runs out,

In pitie of that name, whose fate we see

Thus copied out in griefs Hydrographie.

The Muses are not Mermaids, though upon

Thy death the Ocean might turn Helicon.

The Sea's too rough for verse; who rimes upon't,

With X [...]xes, str [...]ves to fetter th' Hellespont.

My teares will keep no channells, know no lawes

To guide their streams, but like the waves, this cause

Runs with disturbance, till they swallow me,

As a description of his miserie.

But can his spacious vertues finde a grave

Within th' impostu [...]'d bubble of a wave,

Whose learning if we sound, we must confesse

The Sea but shallow, and him bottomlesse?

Could not the winds, to countermand thy death,

W [...] their whole Chard of lungs, redeem thy breath?

Or some new Island in thy rescue peepe,

To heave thy resurrection from the deep?

[Page]That so the world might see thy safety wrought

With no lesse miracle then thy selfe: Most thought

The famous Stagyrite, which in his life

Had Nature as familiar as his wife,

Bequeath'd his widdow to survive with thee,

Queene-Dowager of all Philosophie,

An ominous legacy, that did portend

Thy fat [...], and predcessors second end.

Some have affi [...]m'd that what on earth we finde,

The Sea can parallell for shape and kinde.

Books, A [...]ts, and [...] were wanting, but in thee

Neptune hath got an Universitie.

Wee'l dive no more for pearle, we hope to see

Thy sacred reliques of mortalitie.

Wee'l welcome storms, and make the Sea-man prize

His shipwrack now, more then his merchandize.

He shall embrace the w [...]ves, and to [...]y tombe,

As to a royaller Exchange shall come.

What can we now expect? Water and Fire,

Both Elements of ruine, do conspire;

And that resolves us which doth us compound,

One Vatican was barnt, another dr [...]wn'd.

VVe of the Gowne ou [...] L [...]braries must tosse,

To understand the great [...] of our losse;

Be pupills to our griefe, and so much grow

In learning, as our sorrow [...]s overfl [...]w

VVhen we have [...] fill'd t [...]e R [...]d [...]ets of our eyes,

VVee'l send it forth, and ven [...] such [...]egies:

So that our teares shall [...],

VVe floating Islands, living [...].

[Page]

A Dialogue between two Zealots, upon the &c. in the Oath.

SIr Roger, from a zealous piece of Freeze,

Rais'd to a Vicar of the Childrens threes;

Whose yearly Audit may, by strict accompt,

To twenty Nobles, and his Vailes amount;

Fed on the Common of the femal charity,

Untill the Scots can bring about their parity;

So shotten, that his soul, like to himselfe,

Walks but in Querpo: This same Clergie Elfe,

Encount'ring with a Brother of the Cloth,

Fell presently to Cudglels with the Oath.

The Quarrel was a strange mis-shapen Monster,

&c. (God blesse us) which they conster,

The Brand upon the buttock of the Beast,

The Dragons taile ti'd on a knot, a neast

Of young Apocryphaes, the fashion

Of a new mentall Reservation.

While Roger thus divides the Text, the other

Winks and expounds, saying, my pious Brother

Hearken with reverence; for the point is nice,

I never read on't, but I fasted twice,

And so by Revelation, know it better

Then all the learn'd Idolaters o'th Letter.

With that he swell'd, and fell upon the Theame,

Like Great Goliah with his Weavers beame:

I say to thee &c. thou li'st,

Thou art the curled locke of Antichrist:

Rubbish of Babell, for who will not say

Tongues were confounded in &c.?

[Page]Who sweares &c. sweares more oathes at once

Then Cerberus out of his Triple Sconce.

Who viewes it well, with the same eye beholds

The old halfe Serpent in his numerous foulds.

Accurst &c. thou, for now I scent

What lately the prodigious Oysters meant.

Oh Booker, Booker, how cam'st thou to lack

This sign in thy Prophetick Almanack?

It's the dark Vault wherein th'infernall plot

Of powder 'gainst the State was first begot.

Per [...]e the Oath, and you shall soon descry it

By all the Father Garnets that stand by it.

Gainst whom the Church, whereof I am a Member,

Shall keep another fifth day of November.

Yet here's not all, I cannot halfe untruss

&c. it's so abominous.

The Trojan Nag was not so fully lin'd,

Unrip &c. and you shall finde

Og the great Commissary, and which is worse,

Th'Apparatour upon his skew-bald Horse.

Then (finally my Babe of Grace) forbeare,

&c. will be too farre to sweare:

For 'tis (to speake i [...] a familiar stile)

A Yorkshire Wea-bit, longer then a mile.

Then Roger was inspir'd, and by Gods-diggers,

Hee'l sweare in words at large, and not in figures.

Now by this drink, which he takes off, as loth

To leave &c. in his liquid Oath.

His brother pledg'd him, and that bloody wine,

He swea [...]s shall [...]eale the Synods Cataline.

So they drunke on, not offering to part

Till they had quite sworne out th'eleventh quart:

[Page]While all t [...]at saw and heard them joyntly pray,

[...] [...]ribe were all &c.

Smectymnuus, or the Club-Divines.

SMectymnuus? The Goblin makes me start:

I'th' Name of Rabbi Abraham, what art?

[...]? or [...]rabick? or Welsh? what skilt?

Ap all the Bricklayers that Babell built.

[...]ome Conjurer translate, and let me know it:

'Till then 'tis fit for a West-Saxon Poet.

But doe the Brother-hood then play their prizes,

Like Mummers in Religion with disguises?

Out-brave us with a name in Rank and File,

A Name which if 'twere train'd would spread a mile?

The Saints Monopolie, the zealous Cluster,

Which like a Porcupine presents a Muster,

And shoots his quills at Bishops and their Sees,

A devout litter of young Maccabees.

Thus Jack-of-all-trades hath devoutly showne,

The twelve Apostles on a Cherry-stone.

Thus Faction's All-a-Mode in Treasons fashion;

Now we have Heresie by Complication.

Like to Don-Quixots Rosary of Slaves

Strung on a chaine; A Murnivall of Knaves

Packt in a Trick; like Gypsies when they ride,

Or like Colleagues which sit all of a side:

So the vaine Satyrists stand all a row,

As hollow teeth upon a Lute-string show.

Th' Italian Monster pregnent with his Brother,

Natures Diaeresis, halfe one another,

[Page]He, with his little Sides-man Lazarus,

Must both give way unto Smectym [...]uus.

Next [...] is Smec's; for loe his side

Into a [...]ive-fold Lazar's multipli'd.

Under each a [...]me there's tuckt a double Gizzard,

Five faces lu [...]ke under one single vizzard.

The Whore of Babylon left these brats behind,

Heires of Confusion by Gavell-kind.

I think Pythagoras's soule is rambl'd hither,

With all the change of Rayment on together:

Sm [...]c is her generall Wardrobe, shee'l not dare

To think of them as of a thorough-fare;

He stops the Gossopping Dame; alone he is

The Purlew of a Metempsuchosis.

Like a Scotch Marke, where the more modest sense

Checks the loud phrase, & shrinks to thirteen pence:

Like to an Ignis fatuus, whose flame

Though sometimes tripartite, joynes in the same:

Like to nine Taylors, who if rightly spelled,

Into one man, are monosyllabled.

Short-handed zeale in one hath cramped many,

Like to the Decalogue in a single penny.

See, see, how close the Curs hunt under a sheet,

As if they sp [...]nt in Quire, and scan'd their feet;

One Cure and five Incumbents leap a Truss,

The title sure must be litigious.

The Sadduces would raise a question,

Who must be Smec at th' Resurrection.

Who cook'd them up together, were to blame,

Had they but w [...]re-drawn, and spun out their name,

'T would make another Prencices Petition

Against the Bishops and their Superstition.

[Page] Robson and French (that count from five to five,

As farre as nature fingers did contrive,

She saw they would be Sessers; that's the cause

She cleft their hoof into so many clawes)

May tire their Carret-bunch, yet ne're agree

To rate Smectymnuus for Polemonie.

Galigula, whose pride was Mankinds Baile,

As who disdain'd to murder by retaile,

Wishing the world had but one generall Neck,

His gl [...]tton blade might have found game in Smec.

No Eccho can improve the Author more,

Whose lungs payes use on use to halfe a score.

No Fellon is more letter'd, though the brand

Both superscribes his shoulder and his hand.

Some Welch-man was his Godfather; for he

Weares in his name his Genealogie.

The Banes are askt, would but the time give way,

Betwixt Smectymnuus, and &c.

The Guests invited by a friendly Summons,

Should be the Convocation, and the Commons.

The Priest to tie these Foxes tails together,

Moseley, or Sancta Clara, chuse you whether.

See, what an off-spring every one expects?

What strange pluralities of Men and Sects?

One sayes, hee'l get a Vestery; another

Is for a Synod: Bet upon the Mother.

Faith cry S. George, let them go to't, and stickle,

Whether a Conclave, or a Conventicle.

Thus might Religions caterwaule, and spight,

Which uses to divorce, might once unite.

But their crosse fortunes interdict their trade;

The Groome is Rampant, but the Bride displai'd.

[Page]My task is done; all my hee-Goats are milkt;

So many Cards i'th stock, and yet be bilkt?

I could by Letters now untwist the rable,

Whip Smec from Constable to Constable.

But there I leave you to another dressing,

Onely kneel downe, and take your Fathers blessing.

May the Queen-Mother justifie your fears,

And stretch her Patent to your leather-ears.

The Mixt Assembly.

FLeabitten Synod: an Assembly brew'd

Of Clerks and Elders ana, like the rude

Chaos of Presbyt'ry, where Lay-men guide

With the [...]ame Woolpack Clergie by their side.

Who askt the Banes 'twixt these discolour'd Mates?

A strange Grottesco this, the Church and States

(Most divine tick-tack) in a pye-bald crew,

To serve as table-men of divers hue.

She that conceiv'd an Aethiopian heire

By picture, when the parents both were faire,

At sight of you had borne a dappl'd son,

You checquering her imagination.

Had Iacobs flock but seen you sit, the dams

Had brought forth speckled and ringstreaked lambs.

Like an Impropriators Motley kind,

VVhose Scarlet Coat is with a Cassock lin'd.

Like the Lay-thiese in a Canonick weed,

Sure of his Clergie e're he did the deed,

Like Royston Crowes who are (as I may say)

Friers of both the Orders Black and Gray.

[Page]S [...] mixt they are, one knowes not whether's thicker,

A Layre of Burgesse, or a Layre of Vicar.

Have they usurp'd what Royall Iudah had?

And now must Levi too part stakes with God?

The Scepter and the Crosier are the Crutches,

Which if not trusted in their pious Clutches,

Will saile the Criple-State. And were't not pity

But both should serve the yardwand of the City?

That Isau might stroke his beard, and sit

Judge of [...] and Elegerit.

Oh that they were in chalk and charcole drawne!

The Misselany Satyr, and the Fawne,

And all th'Adulteries of twisted nature

B [...]t faintly represent this ridling feature,

VVhose M [...]mbers being not Tallies, they'l not own

Their fellows at the Resurrection.

Strange Scarler Doctors these, they'l passe in Story

For sinners halfe refin'd in Purgatory;

Or parboyl'd L [...]bsters, where there joyntly rules

The fading Sables and the coming Gules.

The flea that Faistaff [...] damn'd, thus lewdly showes

Tormented in the flames of Bardolphs Nose.

Like him that wore the Dialogue of Cloaks,

This shoulder [...] a Styles, that Iohn a Noaks.

Like Je [...]es and Christians in a ship together,

With an old Ne [...]k verse to distinguish either.

Like their intended Discipline to boot,

Or whatsoe're hath neither head nor foot:

Such may these stript-stuffe hangings seem to be,

Sacriledge matcht with Codpeece Symonie;

Be sick and d [...]eam a little, you may then

Phansie these Linsie-Woolsie Vestry-men.

[Page]Forbeare good Pembroke, be not over-daring,

Such Company may chance to spoile thy swearing:

And these Drum-Major oaths of Bulke unruly,

May dwindle to a feeble By my truly.

He that the noble Percyes bloud inherits,

Will he strike up a Hotspur of the spirits?

Hee'l f [...]ght the Obadiahs out of tune,

With his u [...]circumcised Algernoon.

A name so stubborne, 'tis not to be scan'd

By him in Gath with the six finger'd hand.

See, they obey the Magick of my words.

Presto; theyre gone. And now the House of Lords

Looks like [...] wither'd face of an old hagg,

But with three teeth like to a triple gagg.

A Jig, a Ji [...]: And in this antick dance

Fielding, and doxy Marshall first advance.

Twiss blowes the Scotch pipes, and the loving brase

Puts on the traces, and treads [...]inque-a-pace.

Then Say and Seale must his old Hamstrings supple,

And he and ru [...]pl'd Palmer make a couple.

Palmer's a fruitfull girle, if hee'l unfold her,

The Midwife may finde worke about her shoulder,

Kimbolton that rebellious Boanerges,

Must be content to saddle Doctor Burges.

If Burges get a clap, 'tis ne're the worse,

But the fift time of his Cmpurgators.

Nol Bowles is coy; good sadnesse cannot dance

But in obedience to the Ordinance,

Her Wharton wheels about till Mumping Lidy,

Like the full Moon, hath made his Lordship giddy.

Pym and the Members must their giblets levy

T'incounter Madam Smec, that single Bevy.

[Page]If they two truck together, 'twill not be

A Child-birth, but a Goale-deliverie.

Thus every Gibeline hath got his Guelph,

But Selden, hee's a Galliard by himself,

And well may be; there's more Divines in him

Then in all this their Jewish Sanhedrim:

Whose Canons in the forge shall then beare date,

When Mules their Cosin-Germanes generate.

Thus Moses Law is violated now,

The Oxe and Asse go yok'd in the same plough.

Resigne thy Coach-box Twisse; Brook's Preacher, he

Would sort the beasts with more conformitie.

Water & earth make but one Globe, a Roundhead

Is Clergy-Lay Party-per-pale compounded.

The Kings Disguise.

ANd why so coffin'd to this vile disguise?

Which who but sees, blasphemes thee with his eyes.

My twins of light within their pent-house shrink,

And hold it their allegeance to wink.

Oh for a State-distinction to arraigne

Charles of high Treason 'gainst my Soveraigne.

What an Usurper to his Prince is wont,

Cloyster and shave him, he himselfe hath don't.

His muffled fabrick speaks him a recluse,

His ruines prove it a religious house.

The Sun hath mew'd his beams from off his lamp,

And Majesty defac'd the Royall stamp.

Is't not enough thy Dignity's in thrall,

But thou'lt transcribe it in thy shape and all?

[Page]As if thy Blacks were of too faint a dye,

Without the tincture of Tautologie.

Flay an Egyptian for his Cassock skin,

Spun of his Countreys darknesse, lin't within

With Presbyterian budge, that drowsie trance,

The Synods sable, foggie ignorance;

Nor bodily nor ghostly Negro could

Rough-cast thy figure in a sadder mould:

That privie-chamber of thy shape would be

But the Close-mourner to thy Royaltie.

Then break the circle of thy Taylors spell,

A Pearle within a rugged Oyster-shell.

Heaven, which the Minster of thy Person owns,

Will fine thee for Dilapidations.

Like to a martyr'd Abbeys courser doome,

Devoutly alter'd to a Pigeon roome:

Or like the Colledge, by the changeling rabble,

Manchesters Elves, transform'd into a Stable.

Or, if there be a prophanation higher,

Such is the sacriledge of this attire,

By which th'art halfe depos'd, thou look'st like one

Whose looks are under Sequestration:

Whose Renegado form, at the first glance,

Shewes like the selfe-denying Ordinance.

Angell of light, und darknesse too, I doubt,

Inspir'd within, and yet posses'd without.

Majestick twilight in the state of grace,

Yet with an excommunicated face.

Charles and his Mask are of a different mint,

A Psalme of mercy in a miscreant print.

The Sun wears Midnight, Day is beetle-brow'd,

And Lightning is in Keldar of a cloud.

[Page] [...] of fate!

[...] Eagle shrunk into a Bat?

[...] what Magick vapour can it be

That shri [...]ks his rayes to this Apostasie?

It is no subtile film of [...] ayre,

No Go [...]-web vizard, such as Ladies weare,

When th [...] are veil'd, on purpose to be seen.

Doubling their lustre by their vanquisht skreen:

Nor the false scabberd of a Princes tough

Me [...]all, and three-pil'd darknesse, like the

[...]

slough

Of an imprisoned flame, 'tis Faux in grain [...],

Dark [...] to our high Meridian.

Hell belcht the damp, the Warwick-Castle Vote

Rang Britains Curfeu, so our light went out.

Thy visage is not legible, the letters,

Like a Lords name, writ in fantastick fetters:

Cloaths where a Switzer might be buried quick,

Sure they would fit the Body Politick.

False beard, enough to fit a stages plot,

For that's the ambush of their wit, God wot.

Nay all his properties so strange appeare,

Y'are not i'th' presence, though the King be there.

A Libell is his dresse, a garb uncouth,

Such as the

[...].

Hue and Cry once purg'd at mouth.

Scribling Assasinate, thy lines a [...]est

An eare-mark due; Cub of the blatant Beast,

Whose breath before 'tis syllabled for worse,

Is blasphemy unfledg'd, a callow curse.

The Laplanders, when they would [...]ell a wind

Wafting to hell, bag up thy phrase and bind

It to the Barque, which at the voyage end

Shifts Poop, and brings the Collick in the fiend.

[Page]It to the barque, which at the voyage end

Shifts Poop, and breeds the Collick in the fiend.

But I'le not dub thee with a glorious scar,

Nor sink thy Skuller with a Man of War.

The black-mouth'd Siquis, and this slandering suite,

Both do alike in picture execute.

But since w'are all call'd Papist, why not dare

Devotion to the rags thus consecrate.

As Temples use to have their Porches wrought

With Sphynxes, creatures of an antick draught,

And puzling Pourtraitures, to shew that there

Riddles inhabited, the like is here.

The black offender, should he weare his fin

For penance, could not have a darker skin.

But pardon Sir, since I presume to be

Clarke of this Closet to Your Majestie:

Methinks in this your darke mysterious dresse

I see the Gospell coucht in Parables.

The second view, my pur-blind fancy wipes,

And shewes Religion in its dusky types.

Such a Text Royall, so obscure a shade

Was Solomon in Proverbs all array'd.

Now all ye brats of this expounding age,

To whom the Spirit is in pupill age;

You that damne more then ever Sampson slew,

And with his engine, the same jaw-bone too:

How is't Charles 'scapes your Inquisition free,

Since bound up in the Bibles Liverie?

Hence Cabinet-untrussers, Picklocks hence,

You that dim Jewells with your Bristoll-sense:

And Characters, like Witches, so torment,

Till they confesse a guilt, though innocent.

[Page]Keyes for this Cypher you can never get,

None but S. Peters opes this Cabinet.

This Cabinet, whose aspect would benight

Critick spectators with redundant light.

A Prince most seen, is least: What Scriptures call

The Revelation, is most mysticall.

Mount then thou shadow royall, and with haste,

Advance thy morning star, Charles's overcast.

May thy strange journey contradictions twist,

And force faire weather from a Scottish mist.

Heavens Confessors are pos'd, those star-ey'd Sages

To interpret an Ecclipse, thus riding stages.

Thus Israel-like he travels with a cloud,

Both as a Conduct to him, and a shroud.

But oh! he goes to Gibeon, and renewes

A league with mouldy bread, and clouted shooes.

The Rebell Scot.

HOw! Providence! and yet a Scottish crew!

Then Madam nature wears black patches too.

What? shall our Nation be in bondage thus

Unto a Land that truckles under us?

Ring the bells backward; I am all on fire,

Not all the buckets in a Country Quire

Shall quench my rage. A Poet should be fear'd

Whe [...] angry, like a Comets flaming beard.

And where's the Stoick? can his wrath appease

To see his Countrey sick of Pym's disease

By Scotch invasion? to be made a prey

To such Pig-wiggin Mirmidons as they?

[Page]But that there's cha [...]me in verse, I will not quote

The name of Scot, without an Antidote;

Unlesse my head were red, that I might brew

Invention there that might be poyson too.

Were I a drowsie Judge whose dismall Note

Disg [...]geth halters, as a Juglers throat

D [...]th ribbands: could I (in Sir Emp'ricks tone)

Speake Pills in phrase, and quack destruction:

Or roare like Marshall, that Gen [...]vah-Bull,

Hell and damnation a Pulpit full:

Yet to expresse a Scot, to play that prize,

Not all those mouth-Grandoes can suffice.

Before a Scot can properly be curst,

I must (like Hocus) swallow daggers first.

Come keen lambicks, with your Badgers feet,

And Badger-like, bite till your teeth do meet.

Help ye tart Satyrists, to imp my rage,

With all the Scorpions that should whip this age.

Scots are like Witches; do but whe [...] your pen,

Scratch til the blood come; they'l not hurt you then.

Now as the Martyrs were inforc'd to take

The shapes of beasts, like hypocrites, at stake,

I'le bait my Scot so; yet not cheat your eyes,

A Scot within a beast is no disguise.

No more let Ireland brag, her [...] Nation

Fosters no Venome, since the Scots Plantation:

Nor can ours feign'd Antiquity maintaine;

Since they came in, England hath Wolves againe.

The Scot that kept the Tower might have showne

(Within the gra [...]e of his [...] [...]rest alone)

The [...] Panther; and ingrost

What all those wild Collegiats had cost

[Page]The honest High-shoes, in their Termly Fees,

First to the salvage Lawyer, next to these.

Nature her selfe doth Scotch-men beasts confesse,

Making their Countrey such a wildernesse:

A Land, that brings in question and suspense

Gods omnipresence, but that CHARLS came thence.

But that Montrosse and Crawfords loyall Band

Atton'd their sins, and christ'ned halfe the Land:

Nor is it all the Nation hath these spots;

There is a Church, as well as Kirk of Scots:

As in a picture, where the squinting paint

Shewes Fiend on this side, and on that side Saint.

He that saw hell in's melancholie dreame,

And in the twilight of his Fanc [...]e's theame,

Scar [...]d from his sins, repented in a fright,

Had he view'd [...]cotland, had [...]urn'd Proselite.

A Land, where one may pray with curst intent,

O may they never suffer banishment!

Had Cain beene Scot, God would have chang'd his doome,

Not forc'd him wander, but confin'd him home.

Like Jewes they spread, and as Infection flie,

As if the Devill had Ubiquitie.

Hence 'tis, they live at Rovers; and defie

This or that place, Rags of Geographie.

They're Citizens o'th World; they're all in all,

Scotland's a Nation Epidemicall.

And yet they ramble not, to learne the Mode

How to be drest, or how to lisp abroad,

To returne knowing in the Spanish shrug,

Or which of the Dutch States a double Jug

Resembles most, in Belly, or in Beard:

The Card by which the Travellers are steard.

[Page]No; the Scots-Errant fight, and fight to eat; their Estrich stomacks make their swords their meat.

Nature with Scots as Tooth-drawers hath dealt,

Who use to hang their teeth upon their Belt.

Yet wonder not at this their happy choice;

The Serpent's fatall still to Paradise.

Sure England hath the Hemerods, and these

On the North Posterne of the patient seize,

Like Leeches: thus they physically thirst

After our blood, but in the cure shall burst.

Let them not thinke to make us run o'th score,

To purchase Villanage, as once before,

When an Act past, to stroake them on the head,

Call them good Subjects, buy them Ginger-bread.

Nor gold, nor Acts of Grace; 'tis steel must tame

The stubborne Scot: A Prince that would reclaime

Rebells by yeelding, doth like him, (or worse)

Who sadled his owne back to shame his horse.

Was it for this you left your leaner soyle,

Thus to lard Israel with Aegypts spoyle?

They are the Gospells Life-guard; but for them,

The Garrison of new Jerusalem,

What would the Brethren do? the Cause the cause!

Sack possets, and the Fundamentall Lawes!

Lord! what a godly thing is want of shirts!

How a Scotch-stamack, and no meat, converts!

They wanted food, and raiment; so they took

Religion for their Seamstresse, and their Cook.

Unmaske them well; their honors and estate,

As well as conscience, are sophisticate.

Shrive but their Titles, and their money poize,

A Laird and Twenty pence pronounc'd with noise,

[Page]When const [...]ued, but for a plaine Yeoman goe,

And a good sober twopence; and well so.

Hence then you proud Impostors, get you gone;

You Picts in Gentry and Devotion:

You scandalls to the stock of Verse! a race!

Able to bring the Gibbet in disgrace!

Hyp [...]olus by suffering did traduce

The Ostracisme, and sham'd it out of use.

[...]he Indian that Heaven did forsweare,

Because he heard the Spaniards were there,

Had he but knowne what Scots in hell had been,

He would Erasmus-like have hung betweene.

My Muse hath done. A Voider for the nonce!

I wrong the Devill, should I pick the bones?

That dish is his: for when the Scots decease,

Hell, like their Nation, feeds on Barnacles.

A Scot, when from the Gallow-Tree got loose,

Drops into S [...]yx, and turns a Solun-Go [...]se.

Rupertismus.

O That I could but vote my selfe a Poet!

Or had the Legislative knack to do it:

Or, like the Doctors Militant, could get

Dub'd at adventures Verser [...]!

Or had I Cacus trick to make my Rimes

Their owne Antipodes, and [...] the times:

F [...]ces about, sayes the Remonstra [...] [...];

Allegeance is [...]:

[...]-Colt, [...] Recorder,

Might be a [...] Order:

[Page]Had I but Elsing's guift (that splay-mouth'd Brother)

That declares one way, and yet meanes another:

Could I but write a-squint; then (Sir) long since

You had been sung, A great and glorious Prince.

I had observ'd the Language of the daies;

Blasphem'd you; and then Periwigg'd the Phrase

With Humble Service, and such other Fustian,

Bels which ring backward in this great Combustion.

I had revil'd you; and without offence,

The Literall, and Equitable Sence

Would make it good: when all failes, that will do't:

Sure that distinction cleft the Devils Foot.

This were my Dialect, would your Highnesse please

To read me but with Hebrew Spectacles;

Interpret Counter, what is Crosse rehears'd:

Libels are commendations, when revers'd.

Just as an Optique Glasse contracts the sight

At one end, but when turn'd doth multiply't.

But you're inchanted, Sir; you're doubly free

From the great Guns, and squibbing Poetrie:

Whom neither Bilbo, nor Invention pierces,

Proofe even 'gainst th' Artillerie of Verses.

Strange! that the Muses cannot wound your Maile;

If not their Art, yet let their Sex prevaile.

At that knowne Leaguer, where the Bonny Besses

Supplyed the Bow-strings with their twisted tresses,

Your spels could ne're have fenc'd you: every arrow

Had launc'd your noble breast, & drunk the marrow:

For beauty, like white powder, makes no noise;

And yet the silent Hypocrite destroyes.

Then use the Nuns of Helicon with pity,

Lest Wharton tell his Gossips of the City,

[Page]That you kill women too; nay maids: and such

Their Generall wants Militia to touch.

Impotent Essex! is it not a shame,

Our Common-wealth, like to a Turkish Dame,

Should have an Eunuch-Guardian? may she be

Ravish'd by Charles, rather then sav'd by thee.

But why, my Muse, like a Green-sicknesse-Girle,

Feed'st thou on coales and dirt? a Gelding-Earle

Gives no more relish to thy Female Palat,

Then to that Asse did once the Thistle-Sallat.

Then quit the barren Theme; and all at once

Thou and thy sisters, like bright Amazons,

Give RUPERT an alarum, RUPERT! one

Whose name is wits Superfoetation.

Makes fancy, like Eternities round wombe,

Unite all valour, present, past, to come.

He, who the old Philosophie controules,

That voted down plurality of soules,

He breaths a grand Committee; all that were

The wonders of their age, constellate here.

And as the elder sisters, growth and sence

(Souls Paramount themselves) in man commence

But faculties of reasons Queene; no more

Are they to him who were compleat before.

Ingredients of his vertue thread the Beads

Of Caesar's acts, great Pompey's, and the Sweads:

And 'tis a bracelet fit for Rupert's hand,

By which that vast Triumvirate is span'd.

Here, here is Palmestry; here you may read,

How long the world shall live, & when't shall bleed.

Whatever man winds up, that RUPERT hath:

For Nature rais'd him of the Publike Faith.

[Page] Pandora's Brother, to make up whose [...]ore,

The Gods were faine to run upon the score.

Such was the Painters Brieve for [...];

Item an eye from Iane, a lip from [...]

Let Isaac and his Cit'z- [...]lea off the [...]lace

That tips their Antlets for the [...];

Let the zeale-twanging Nose that wants a [...]idge,

Snuffling devoutly, drop his silve [...] bridge:

Yes, and the Gossips spoon [...] the summe,

Although poore Cal [...]b lose his Christ [...]ndome:

Rupert out-weighs that in his Sterling-selfe,

Which their selfe-wants paies in commuting pelfe.

Pardon, great Sir, for that ignoble crew

Gaines, when made bankrupt, in the scales with you.

As he, who in his Character of light

Stil'd it Gods shadow, made it far [...]

By an Ecclipse so glorious, (light is [...]im,

And a black nothing, when compar'd to him)

So 'tis illustrious to be Ruperts Foile,

And a just Trophee to be made his spoile.

I'le pin my faith on the Diurnalls [...]eeve

Hereafter, and the Guild-Hall Creed beleeve;

The Conquests, which the Common-Councel hears

With their wide list'ning mouth, from the great Peers

That ran away in triumph: such a Foe

Can make them victors in their overthrow:

Where providence and valour meet in one,

Courage so poiz'd with circumspection,

That he revives the quarrell once againe

Of the Soules throne, whether in heart or braine;

And leaves it a drawne march: whose fervour can

Hatch him, whom Nature poach'd but halfe a Man,

[Page]His Trumpet like the Argells at the last,

Makes the soul rise by a miraculous blast,

'Twas the Mount Athos c [...]rv'd in shape of man

(As 'twas defin'd by the Ma [...]edonian)

Whose right hand should a populous Land contain,

The left should be a Channell to the Maine:

His spirit might informe th' Amphibious figure;

Yet straight-lac'd sweats for a Dominion bigger:

The terrour of whose name can out of seven,

(Like Falstaffe's Buckram-men) make flie eleven.

Thus some grow rich by breaking; Vipers thus

By being slaine, are made more numerous.

No wonder they'l confesse no losse of men;

For Rupert knocks'em, till they gig agen,

They feare the Giblets of his traine; they feare

Even his Dog, that foure-legg'd Cavaleere:

He that devoures the scraps, which L [...]ndsford makes,

Whose Picture feeds upon a child in stakes:

Who name but Charles, he comes aloft for him,

But holds up his Malignant leg at Pym.

[...]Gainst whom they've severall Articles in souse;

First, that he barks against the sense o'th House.

Resolv'd Delinquent; to the Tower straight;

Either to th' Lions, or the Bishops Grate.

Next for his ceremonious wag o'th taile:

But there the Sisterhood will be his Baile,

At least the Countesse will, Lust's Amsterdam,

That lets in all religious of the game.

Thirdly, he smells Intelligence, that's better,

And cheaper too, then Pym's from his owne Letter:

Who's doubly paid (fortune or we the blinder?)

For making plots, and then for Fox the Finder.

[Page]Lastly, he is a Devill without doubt;

For when he would lie downe, he wheels about;

Makes circles, and is couchant in a ring;

And therefore score up one for conjuring.

What canst thou say, thou wretch? O quarter, quarter!

I'me but an instrument, a meere S. Arthur.

If I must hang, ô let not our Fates varie,

Whose office 'tis alike to fetch and cary.

No hopes of a reprieve, the mutinous stir

That strung the Jesuite, will dispatch a cur.

Were I a Devill, as the Rebell feares,

I see the House would try me by my Peeres.

There lowler there! ah Iowler! st! 'tis nought

What e're the Accusers cry, they're at a fault;

And Glyn, and Maynard have no more to say,

Then when the glorious Strafford stood at Bay.

Thus Labells but annex'd to him we see,

Enjoy a copyhold of Victory.

S. Peters sh [...]dow heal'd; Ruperts is such,

'Twould finde S. Peters work, yet wound as much.

He gags their guns, defeats their dire intent,

The Cannons do but lisp and complement.

Sure Iove descended in a leaden shower

To get this Perseus: hence the fatall power

Of shot is strangled: bullets thus alli'd

Feare to commit an act of Paricide.

Go on brave Prince, and make the world confesse,

Thou art the greatest world, and that the lesse.

Scatter th'accumulative King; untruss

That five-fold fiend, the States SMECTYMNUUS;

Who place Religion in their Velam ears;

As in their Phylacters the Jewes did theirs,

[Page] England's a Paradise, (and a modest Word)

Since guarded by a Cherubs flaming Sword.

Your name can scare an Athiest to his prayers;

And cure the Chin-cough better then the Bears.

Old Sybill charmes the Tooth-ach with you: Nurse

Makes you stil children; nay, and the pond'rous curse

The Clownes salute with, is deriv'd from you;

(Now RUPERT take thee, Rogue; how dost thou do?)

In fine, the name of Rupert thunders so,

Kimbolton's but a rumbling Wheel-barrow.

[Page]

Epitaphium Thomae Comitis Straffordii, &c.

Exurge Cinis, tuúm (que) s [...]lus qui potis es, scribe Epitaphiū:

Nequit Wentworthi non esse facundus vel Cinis,

Effare Marmor: & quem coepisti comprehendere,

Macte & Exprimere.

Candidus meretur urna, quàm quod rubris

Notatum est literis, Elogium.

Atlas Regiminis Monarchici hîc jacet lassus,

Se [...]unda Orbis Britannici intelligentia:

Rex Politiae, & Prorex Hiberniae,

Straffordii, & Virtutum, Comes:

Mens Jovis, Mercurii ingenium, & lingua Apollinis;

Cui Anglia Hiberniam debuit, seipsam Hibernia.

Sydus Aquilonicū, quo sub rubicundâ vesperâ occidente,

Nox simul & dies visa est: dextróque oculo flevit,

Laevóque laetata est, Anglia.

Theatrum Honoris, itémque Scena calamitosa virtutis

Actorib us, morbo, morte, invidiâ,

Quae ternis animosa Regnis non vicit tamen,

Sed oppressit.

Sic inclinavit Heros (non minus) Caput

Belluae (vel sic) maltorum Capitum:

Merces favoris Scotici, praeter pecunias,

Erubuit ut tètigit securis,

Similem quippe nunquam degustavit sanguinem.

Monstrum narro: fuit tam infensus Legibus,

Ut prius Legem, quàm nata foret, violavit:

Hunc tamen non sustulit Lex,

Verùm Necessitas, non habens Legem.

Abi Viator, caetera memorabunt posteri.

Additionall Poems by uncertain AUTHORS.

[Page]

The Scots Apostasie.

ISt come to this? what? shal the cheeks of Fame,

Stretcht with the breath of learned Lowdons name,

Be flag'd again? and that great piece of Sence,

As rich in Loyalty, as Eloquence,

Brought to the Test, be found a trick of State?

Like Chymists tinctures, prov'd adulterate?

The Devill sure such language did atchieve,

To cheat our un-fore-warned Grandam Eve,

As this Impostor found out, to besot

Th'experienc'd English, to believe a Scot.

Who reconcil'd the Covenants doubtfull Sence!

The Commons Argument, or the Cities Pence?

Or did you doubt, Persistance in one good

Would spoile the fabrick of your Brotherhood,

Projected first in such a forge of sin,

Was fit for the grand Devils hammering?

Or was't ambition, that this damned fact

Should tell the world you know the sins you act?

The infamie this super-treason brings,

Blasts more then murders of Your sixty Kings.

A crime so black, as being advis'dly done,

Those hold with this no competition.

Kings onely suffer'd then, in this doth lie

Th' Assasination of Monarchie.

[Page]Beyond this sin no one step can be trod,

If not t'attempt deposing of your C [...]d.

Oh were you so [...], that we [...]ight see

Heavens ang [...]y lighting [...] your eares to slee,

Till you were [...]rivel'd [...] dust; and your cold Land

Parcht to a drought, beyond the Lybian sand!

But 'tis reserv'd; and till heaven plague you worse,

Be Objects of an Epidemick curse.

First, may your Brethren, to whose viler ends

Your pow'r hath bawded, cease to count you friends;

And prompted by the dictate of their reason,

Reproach the Traytors, though they hug the treason.

And may their Jealousies increase and breed,

Till they confine your steps beyond the Tweed.

In forraigne Nations may your loath'd name be

A stigmatizing brand of Infamie;

Till forc'd by generall hate, you cease to rome

The world, and for a plague go live at home:

Till you resume your poverty, and be

Reduc'd to beg, where none can be so free

To grant; and may your scabbie Land be all

Translated to a generall Hospitall.

Let not the Sun afford one gentle Ray,

To give you comfort of a Summers day.

But, as a Guerdon for your traiterous War,

Live cherisht onely by the Northern Star.

No Stranger deign to visit your rude Coast,

And be to all, but banisht Men, as lost.

And such, in height'ning of th'infliction due,

Let provok'd Princes send them all to you.

Your State a Chaos be, where not the Law,

But Power, your Lives and Liberties may awe.

[Page]No Subject mongst you keep a quiet brest,

But each man strive through blood to be the best;

Till, for those miseries on us you've brought,

By your own sword our just revenge be wrought.

To summe up all—let your Religion be,

As your Allegiance, mask'd hypocrisie:

Untill, when CHARLES shall be compos'd in dust,

Persum'd with Epitheres of GOOD and IUST;

HE sav'd; incensed Heaven may have forgot

T'afford one act of mercy to a Scot;

Unlesse that Scot deny himselfe, and do

(What's easier farre) renounce his Nation too,

Epitaph on the Earl of Strafford.

HEre lies Wise and Valiant Dust,

Huddled up 'twixt Fit and Just:

STRAFFORD, who was hurried hence

'Twixt Treason and Convenience.

He spent his Time here in a Mist;

A Papist, yet a Ca [...]vinist.

His Prince's nearest Joy, and Grief;

He had, yet wanted all Reliefe.

The Prop and Ruine of the State;

The People's violent Love, and Hate:

One in extreames lov'd and abhor'd.

Riddles lie here; or in a word,

Here lies Blood; and let it lie

Speechlesse still, and never crie.

[Page]

On the Archbishop of Canterbury.

I Need no Muse to give my passion vent,

He brewes his teares that studies to lament.

Verse chymically weeps; that pious raine,

Distill'd with Art, is but the sweat o'th braine.

Who ever sob'd in numbers? can a groane

Be quaver'd out by soft division?

'Tis true; for common formall Elegies,

Not Bushells Wells can wash a Poets eyes

In wanton water-works: hee'l tune his teares

From a Geneva Jig up to the Spheares.

But when he mournes at distance, weeps aloof,

Now that the Conduit-head is our own roof:

Now that the fate is publike, we may call

It Britains Vespers, Englands Funerall.

Who hath a Pensill to expresse the Saint,

But he hath eyes too, washing off the paint?

There is no learning, but what teares surround,

Like to Seths Pillars, in the deluge drown'd.

There is no Church, Religion is growne

From much of late, that she's increast to none;

Like an hydropick body, full of Rheumes,

First swells into a bubble, then consumes.

The Law is dead, or cast into a trance,

And, by a Law dough-bak'd, and Ordinance.

The Liturgie, whose doom was voted next,

Died, as a Comment upon him the Text.

There's nothing lives; life is (since he is gone)

But a Nocturnall Lucubration.

[Page]Thus you have seen deaths inventory read

In the sum to [...]all—Canterburie's dead.

A sight would make a Pagan to baptize

Himselfe a Convert in his bleeding eyes.

Would thaw the rabble that fierce beast of ours,

(That which Hyaena-like weeps and devoures)

Tears that [...]low brackish from their soules within,

Not to repent, but pickle up their sin

Meane time no squallid griefe his looke defiles,

He guilds his sadder fate with noble smiles.

Thus the worlds eye with reconciled streames

Shines in his showers as if he wept his beames.

How could successe such villanies applaud?

The S [...]ate in Strafford fell, the Church in Laud:

The twins of publike rage adjudg'd to dye,

For Treasons they should act by Prophecy.

The f [...]cts were done before the Lawes were made,

The trump turn'd up after the game was plai'd.

Be dull g [...]eat spirits and forbeare to climbe,

For worth is sin, and eminence a crime.

No Church-man can be innocent and high,

'Tis height makes Gran [...]ham steeple stand awry.

[Page]

On I. VV. A. B. of York.

SAy, my young Sophister, what think'st of this?

Chimae [...]ra's reall; Ergo falleris.

The Lambe and Tyger, Fox and Goose agree,

And here concorp'rate in one Prodigie.

C [...]ll an Ha [...]uspex quickly; let him get

S [...]lphur and [...]orches, and a Lawrell wet,

To P [...]fie the place; for sure the Harmes

This Monster will produce, transcend his Charmes.

'Tis Na [...]ures Master-piece of error, this:

A [...]d redeems whatever she did amisse,

B [...]fore, from wonder and reproach; this last

Le [...]i [...]imateth all her by-blowes past.

Loe here a Generall Metropolitan,

An Arch-Prelat [...]que Presbyterian.

Behold his pious Garbs, Canonique Face,

A z [...]alous Episcopo-mastix Grace;

A fa [...]e blew-apron'd Priest, a Lawn-sleev'd Brother,

One leg a Pulpu holds, a Tub the other.

Let's give him a fit name now, if we can,

And make th'apostate once more Christian.

Protaeus we cannot call him; he put on

His change of shapes by a succession;

Nor the Welch Weather-cock; for that we find,

At once doth only wait upon the wind:

These speake him not, but if you'l name him right,

Call him Religions He [...]maphrodite.

His head i'th sanctified mould is cast,

Yet sticks th' abominable Miter fast;

He still retaines the Lordship and the Grace,

And yet has got a reverend Elders place.

[Page]Such acts must needs be his, who did devise

By crying Altars downe, to sacrifice

To private malice; where you might have seen

His conscience holocausted to his spleen.

Unhappy Church! the Viper that did share

Thy greatest honours helps to make thee bare,

And void of all thy Dignities and store:

Alas! thy own Son proves the Forrest-boare.

And like the Dam-destroying Cuckow, he,

When the thick-shell of his Welsh Pedigree,

By thy warme fost'ring bounty did divide

And open, straight thence sprung forth parricide:

As if 'twas just, revenge should be dispacht

In thee, by th'Monster, which thy selfe hadst hatcht.

Despaire not though: in Wales there may be got,

As well as Lincolnshire, an antidote,

'Gainst the foul'st venome he can spit, though's head

Were chang'd from subtle gray to poys'nous red.

Heaven with propitious eyes will looke upon

Our party, now the cursed thing is gone;

And chastise Rebells, who nought else did miss

To fill the measure of their sins but his;

Whose foule unparallel'd apostasie,

Like to his sacred character, shall be

Indelible; when ages then of late

More happy growne, with most impartiall fate,

A period to his dayes and time shall give,

He by such Epitaphs as this shall live.

Hee Yorks great Metropolitan is laid,

Who Gods Annointed, and his Church betraid.

THE END.

[Page]

Information about this book

Title statement

The character of a London-diurnall with severall select poems / by the same author.

Cleveland, John, 1613-1658.

Edition statement

1647

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2003-07 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A33429

ID [STC]

Wing C4666

ID [STC]

ESTC R6762

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

11796334

ID [OCLC]

ocm 11796334

ID [VID]

49320

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A33429)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 49320)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 22:2)

Source

— The character of a London-diurnall with severall select poems / by the same author., Cleveland, John, 1613-1658.. Optima & novissima editio..

Extent

[2], 56 p.

s.n.],. [London :: 1647.. (Pages 7-56 in verse.) (Attributed to John Cleveland. Cf. BM.) (Place of publication from BM.) (Fifth ed. Cf. Morris, B. John Cleveland (1613-1658), a bibliography of his poems, D5. Wing calls this 4th [i.e. 6th] ed., 22 poems.) (Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.)

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