[Page] MERCURIES MESSAGE, OR THE COPPY OF A LETTER sent to William Laud late Archbishop of CANTERBVRY, now priso­ner in the Tower.

PROV. 11. 10.
When it fares well with righteous men,
The City is glad and joyfull then:
But when with Wicked it fares ill,
Ther's none of them, take pitty will,
JOB. 27. 23.
Clapping of hands with joy there is apace,
Hissing them out of there great Lordly place.
JOB. 32. 9.
The great ones are not alwaies wise,
Who in great pompe and state do rise.

Printed in the yeare, of our Prelates feare. 1641.

REVELL. 13. 16.
The man that understanding hath
Behold and see, the Scripture saith
The number of the Beast is numbered
And comes unto the sum Six hundered
Sixty and six: the name here writ amounts
Vnto the same if we doe rightly count.
The beasts number
The mans name
is the worlds wonder
With beasts the same
Revelat. 19. 20.
Into the lake the beast was cast
Which never dyes: but everlasting lasts
It burnes with brimstone and with fire,
According to Gods dreadfull ire.

TO The late famous, now Infamous Arch-Bishop, WILLIAM, a CANTERBVRY.

I Call you what, not long agoe you were,
But now those golden dayes are past I feare,
And so doth all the drooping Hierachy
Of Lordly Bishops, that er'e while so high,
Bore up theirs heads to show themselves superi­ors,
And proudly trod upon their poore inferiors.
How did you Domineere in your vaine pride
Whilst in prosperity you did abide,
With envious Rage, and foule maliciousnesse,
Striving to bring Gods people in distresse
Downe went all painefull and laborious teaching,
The Service Booke more usefull was, then preaching
In your account, having an Inclination
With Popish rites to blind our Brittish nation.
But men of sounder Judgement know full well,
That Gods pure word mans wisedome doth excell
And yet for sooth your will being a Law,
Men better then your selfe, you kept in aw
Well, next our weekely Lectures lik't you not,
To put downe them your zeale was wondrous hot.
It seemes your Lordship had conceivid a thought,
And feard poore Ignorants would too much be taught,
And so your Soule deludements learne to see,
When with Roomes [...] doth no whit agree;
Else you might thinke, with plenty being fed,
They might have loath'd that heavenly bread,
For men by Solomons rule may [...] get
If finding honey, they too much on't eat.
[Page] Therefore your Grace tooke a sure course for such,
Y'ad rather see them starve then have too much
But now the Sabboth day in your esteeme
Is kept too strictly, this a fault you deeme,
For squaring thus our actions by Gods word
We with the Papists never should accord
Therefore by smooth, false, base Insinuation
You did perswade the King by Proclamation
To give his subjects leave to sport and play
In spight of all gainsayers on that day:
This done, one Sermon must content us to
And that but one houre long, for if men do
Exceed their time prescrib'd, tho their intention
Be ne're so good, they may expect suspention:
In all which did not we Religion fly,
With Roome observe a sweet close simpathy.
But is this all; no, Altars next you raise,
And waxen Tapers must upon them blaze;
Yea in these heapes of Stone such worth is found.
That passers by must bow to'em downe toth' ground:
Is Jesus with a large pronunciation
Vttered by some time serve't being the fashion,
Legs, Congjes, Bowings, wait upon that name
In outward Adoration of the same.
Indeed the Countrey did this trick refuse,
Because their scraping spoyl'd their Sunday shoo's:
Besides being full of Nayles and Iron specks,
They made a Parish charge to buy new bricks.
To ratifie all this, Cannons are made,
And yet I thinke the Authors are not paide
For that good worke of theirs, but let that pas,
This Parliament then never dreampt of was,
Or if it were and things had come toth' worst;
Perhaps you thought to dash it like the first:
Therefore in uncontrouled pride you raign'd
Vertue oppos'd, all vices you maintain'd:
Which made men thinke you had an itching hope
To be some Cardinall or little Pope.
Whereby an ancient Proverb's verifide,
Beggers if set on horse backe, love to ride:
[Page] Did any Minister detest these things,
To see you Bishops rule like petty Kings
Did they out of true zeale and conscience sake,
A scruple of your Popish orders make:
Crosse, Surplice, Tippet, would they not allow
To high Altar, did they scorne to bow:
Was there no outward signe of Reverence showne
When Jesus was pronounc'd, and that made knowne
To your Lordship; straight off went th' offenders eares
Though nere so old, no pitties tooke of yeares:
Your worships pillary must their necks adorne
A triple Tree they say shall serve your turne.
They peepe through wooden windowes; as for you
Gregory has a hempen Lattice faire and new.
Men hope to see you mounted er'e you die,
I'm sorry for't my Lord, but cannot crie.
Sure your well wishers hymmes of praise will sing,
To see you goe to Heaven in a string:
Or if not so, the common people sweare,
You'l grace the Block as well as your compere:
Others suppose that a Clothworkers son,
Shall never have such honour to him don:
Thus all men censure, none cares what they say,
Pusse being cag'd, the Mice may freely play.
So in a Country pasture have I seene
The little Lambkins skipping on a greene,
Whilst the poore wolfe lies tangled in the net
The carefull Sheapheard for his ruine set:
This is the talke my Lord that goes about,
He's nobody now a dayes that cannot flout.
Imprison'd Canterbury, when 'tis cleare
Your back's to norrow all these quips to beare;
Oh had your thoughts and stature but agreed
Together, then all had beene well indeed:
But when such Pigmy Lords as you will cherish
Ambitious great desires, both lightly perish.
How true this happens to your helpelesse wo,
And sad destruction, sure I am you know;
For now y're falling 'tis the generall cry
Downe with him Tyrant fie upon him fie.
[Page] Blest were the man could light on such good hap,
To beate our's eyes with's Babylonian cap.
Thus are our wits imploy'd early and late
With some quient leere to breake your Graces pate,
We scorne saies one his vices to applaud,
We know the Divill must have little Laud:
O saies a second, he's a gallant prize,
And by his fall, young Gregory will rise.
Who sweares when Surplice & Lawn sleeves h'as got
Heele send Romes Strumpet a veneriall smock.
As for the Song which goes Blue cap for mee,
Hee'l have it chang'd to Black cap that's his fee.
Lastly, (to passe all others) some suppose
You have a trick of art to fetch backe those
Shew'd us their Heeles, where ever they remaine,
Or else be hang'd when you come backe againe:
I know you have a great desire to doe it.
Could you perswade the Parliament unto it;
But were you sent on such an errand now,
When should we see ye returne, never we know:
Oh tis whipping Time my Lord most thinke,
When such as you, for feare begin to stinke:
Some run for't their Activity to show,
Their Heads may thanke their Legs, if they scape so.
Others that cannot go; Blood sucking Leeches,
Make Buttons backwards, and defile their breeches:
So may you see some dogs when death drawes neere,
Being lifted from the Earth perfume the ayre:
Me thinks your Honour, yea your Honours head,
Hangs in the ayre by a small twisted Thread:
Which to Heav'ns praise, Hells joy, & Londons wonder
The Sword of Justice Arives to cut asunder.
Alas what Remedy, if downe you must,
'Tis but a little grace transform'd to Dust;
Where Dirt and Ashes having stopt your breath,
You'l find this truth, wages of sinne is death;
Did you expect my Lord a yeare ago,
To see your glorious light extinguish'd so;
Did you once dreame of this disaster sad,
Sure no, y'ad liv'd much better if you had.
[Page] So have I seen the treacherous fox or'e shot,
Persuing his prey with rage and malice hot;
Till in the height of's pride at unaware
Thinking to catch the spoyle, he falls i'th snare.
I know my Lord, you now consume your dayes
In bitternesse, be't spoken to your praise
And that's good Reason't should be, so for why?
Y'ave worne whole yeares away in vanity:
And yet we doubt y' are onely discontented
To see your hellish aymes so well prevented.
But is the head sick, and the members free,
Do not our other Bishops grieve to see
Their PROP so sorely shaken; sure they do
For you once downe they needs must tumble to;
They know a house that Built upon the Sand,
In time of windy stormes can never stand.
Now if great Beelzebub himselfe be scar'd
Needs must th'inferior Divells be afeard.
Some other things I meant to write, whic I
Will now omit t'avoyd Prolixity:
I feare already I've too tedious been,
And that you ever judg'd a haynous sin.
Therefore to close up all, let me I pray,
Informe you what the bonny Scotchmen say:
They hope in quiet to goe home unbang'd,
And wish the causer of their coming hang'd:
And so they vow to see him ere they goe,
Then farwell England, Iockey is no foe.
Therefore my Lord, take a friends advise,
And learne to swing adayes if you be wise:
For I'm perrwaded 'tis your Honours lot,
To have your old bones stretch't, why should you not?
Old men must dye you know, and young men may:
When your turne comes comes, then wee'l make holy­day;
And like old Israel skip and sing amaine,
To see Goliah on the Mountaines slaine.
My Muse growes weary Sir, and now I'le rest
Mine owne, not yours, I see the Sun's ith west.
Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula Cantem.
But some wil nere learne wit till'its dearly taught them

An Accrosticall Caveat to beware of Ambition

What newes is this I heare
In all mens mouthes so sweet,
Laud's taken in the snare
Laid for anothers feet.
Indeed I alwaies thought
Ambitious pride would fall
Mens waies being lewd and nought.
Lead them toth pit of thrall.
Agreat mans hope is vaine
Vnlesse his life be just,
Death ends his dayes in shame.
And then wher's human trust
Riches will not availe
Cold worlds be then produc'd
Honnor and wit will faile
Because th'ave bin abus'd
In pompe and dignitee
Sometime tho he remaine
His greatnes soone will bee
Obscurd with foule disdaine
Proud Nimrod thus and's troope,
Of late have lost their power
For Babell gins to stoope.
Confusion shakes their tower
Anortherne blast hath blowne
Nere thirty flat caps downe
That were so stately growne,
Each one ore topt the Crowne
Rome wailes their sudden fall,
But 'tis in vaine to rore
Vsurping Prelates shall
Rule us in pride no more:
Iure devino made an Asse you see,
Enland rejoyce, 'tis happie newes for thee.

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