A satyrick poem against those mercenary wretches and troublers of Englands tranquility, the authors of Heraclitus and Observator, infamous for their scribling throughout England by Philopatris.

A satyrick poem against those mercenary wretches and troublers of Englands tranquility, the authors of Heraclitus and Observator, infamous for their scribling throughout England by Philopatris.

Table of contents

Title page

A SATYR ON HERACLITUS And the OBSERVATOR.

A SATYR ON HERACLITUS And the OBSERVATOR.

[Page]

[Page]

I'LL Towzer ſing, read it who liſt;

A Blade as true as ever kiſt

The ſweet inchanting Lips of any

Engliſh Jug, or Iriſh Jenny:

Or did enjoy the ſweet Embraces

Of buxham Girls with pretty Faces;

Or ere was bleſt with Venus ſport;

Or did all night with Doxie ſnort.

[Page]He ſo much loves the Female Sex,

That yet his Soul did never vex

For ſpending all his Small Eſtate

On thoſe leud Girls that Vertue hate.

The Preſs it was his Drudge and Slave,

Whereof, at will, he'd Money have.

But all the Gain which it brought in,

He leudly laviſht out in ſin.

At laſt he was a Jeaſt-aſs made,

Wherein he drove a Bedlam-trade.

But ſince he had ſo little Grace,

His Worſhip ſoon did loſe his Place.

Alas, quoth he, I'm quite undone,

And have nought left but my old Gun!

Therefore I'll employ my head

To Write, and Print, and Rail for Bread;

Whereby I'll both obtain my end,

And ſerve the Pope, my deareſt Friend:

So I again ſhall be in Geers,

When I have paid my Whores Arrears.

The Pope, the D—and Broom I'll get

Advanced by my pregnant Wit.

I will endeavour, might and main,

To ſham the Plot yet once again;

Or elſe I'll bring it to a Riddle,

By playing well on my Bumfiddle.

Againſt Diſſenters, whom I hate,

Great Jealouſies I will create.

[Page]To Church of England-men I will

Seem a Friend, yet I will ſtill,

As formerly, remain their Foe,

Whereby I'll work their Overthrow.

And now he hopes in Bloud to wade,

By virtue of his Maſquerade.

But ſtill there's ſome he ſtands in fear of,

If they by chance ſhould hap to hear of

His Cit and Bumkin, and the others

That in the world have made ſuch pothers,

They ſhould think fit, in Term Hillary,

To ſend him guarded to the Pillory.

Therefore thought it beſt to appeaſe 'em,

With ſweeteſt words that ſure would pleaſe 'em.

Auguſt Aſſembly he them call'd,

Tho' loud before the Whelp had baul'd

And bark'd againſt their juſt Proceeding,

When they'd have lain the Plot a bleeding.

But now he ſurely thought to coax

Theſe ſilly Heretical Folks:

But Roger ſeeing 'twas not ſo,

He thought it beſt for him to go,

And fairly from them run away,

To ſave his Neck or Ears, they ſay.

At which he's mad, and in a fume

Reſolves to ſee the bleſſed Rome:

Whither he's gone, you know the cauſe,

And there's reſerv'd with great applauſe,

[Page]By a great man, they call him Pope,

As well as he deſerves a Rope:

To whom he tells a mournful Ditty,

Which was, though ſad, yet wiſe and witty,

Of the great ſervice he had wrought,

Whereby himſelf's to miſ'ry brought:

But here he hopes for ſuch relief

As will allay his pain and grief.

The good old man could not forbear

The ſhedding Tear, as ſome do ſwear.

Which having done, he gravely ſaid,

For all thoſe things you ſhall be paid

Both in this world and Heaven too,

If one thing more for us you'll do.

Then prethy, Son, return again

To England; for I'll tell thee plain,

I fain would have thee work Revenge;

At Proteſtants have t'other Swinge.

My Bleſſing too I will beſtow,

If that you now will go: and ſo

I'll command the Fates attend ye,

To England they ſhall ſafely ſend ye.

With that he made with Cap in hand, Sir,

Unto the Pope this modeſt Anſwer:

Father, I'd have you know that I,

If you command, with ſpeed will flie.

Than the ſwift Wings of Boreas blaſt

I now will make more ſpeed and haſt.

[Page]Wherefore with ſpeed he takes his way

Direſtly to Cathedral-bay;

Where for his Voyage he Took Ship,

A Man of War, not a ſmall Skip.

And as he ſails, devoutly prays

For Bleſſing on his murderous ways:

O Fortune, now I pray be kind,

And let me have a proſperous Wind.

Theſe Rogues I then will quite deſtroy,

And neither leave nor Man nor Boy;

But yet the Women I will ſpare,

For them I greatly love, I'll ſwear.

On Sea they ſail as ſwift as Swallows,

And plow the Waves as men do Fallows.

And in leſs time than you can think,

Or drinking down a draught of Drink,

The Pope had ordered ſo the matter,

That Towzer was blown o're the Water.

In London, the firſt thing he ſees

Is Proteflants, like ſwarms of Bees.

O ho, quoth he, I'll be among ye;

I'll ſwear I ſoundly will bedung ye.

But being worſted, ſtamps and ſtares,

Like Pope or Cardinal he ſwears:

And being mad, and fretting thus,

Away runs to Heraclitus.

This Heraclitus, men ſome tell,

A Monſter is, late made in Hell:

[Page]And fitted for to ſerve the Pope,

And ſave his Children from a Rope.

A Monſter he is in each part,

A Carcaſs foul, and a worſe Heart.

His Mouth doth laugh when's Eyes do weep;

A Myſtery 'tis profound and deep.

He'll ſpeak in Jeaſt and Earneſt too,

And both at once, as Papiſts do.

And more than this, he's ſuch a Fellow,

Can backward blow, like a Smiths Bellow,

A day, a week, a month together,

And by his farting bring foul weather:

Blow Parliaments and all things down,

And them and all Diſſenters drown.

Now Towzer's ſure enough that he

Of Conqueſt ſure enough ſhall be;

And that the Scriblers wont be able

To ſtand againſt a blaſt ſo ſtable:

But Writing will be quite forborn

By them, as men that are forlorn.

And this he thinks agrees with Reaſon,

Since now 'tis Heraclitus ſeaſon:

Who is become the mighty King

Of all thoſe Blades can huff, and ding,

And whore, and drink, and curſe, and ſwear,

And blaſpheme too, without all fear.

He'll lie, I'll ſay't, with ſuch a Grace,

He's almoſt turn'd Truth out of place.

[Page]To this ſame King our Towzer goes,

And thus in flattering terms wooes:

Thou mighty King, whoſe potent ſway,

The lawleſs Scriblers do obey;

Whoſe Nod the ſtoberneſt Whigs do dread,

Although they be in Scotland bred:

Thou whoſe imperious Empire reaches,

And to all parts of England ſtreatches,

Hear poor Towzer's Requeſt, and ſay,

Thou'lt do't; for I muſt have no Nay.

There are a few Tatter-de-malions,

The ſurly Rogues wont be Italians:

No, nor they wont accept of him

That in their bloud would make 'em ſwim.

And therefore if you'll undertake

To ruine them, then I will make

Your way to Honour and Renown,

And Wealth and Plenty ſhall you crown.

Nay, to encourage you the more,

The Tories they will you adore

For a great Wit, a man of Sence,

Againſt the Whigs the beſt Defence.

And more than this, I'll promiſe ye

Shall be aſſiſted too by me.

And truly you muſt know, my Pen

Doth guide inferiour Clergy-men.

Brave generous Soul, be not afraid,

All things ſhall be as I have ſaid.

[Page]For you muſt know I am no Doger,

But I am true and truſty Roger.

Heraclitus hearken'd to this Story

With no ſmall Pride, no little Glory,

To have a Jeaſt-aſs, gay and trim,

Come thus to beg a Bone of him.

But much more was he pleas'd, that he

Should promiſe him ſo large a Fee.

He liſtning ſtood, with's mouth wide gaping,

Like an old Hag when ſhe is yaping.

And you muſt know, with Cap in hand, Sir,

He thus returns a ready Anſwer:

Towzer, quoth he, my Thanks are real;

I hope in this we ſhall agree all:

For I do hate the Roughs as bad

As you, or any, or Pope our Dad.

Now therefore I the work will do,

And pleaſe my ſelf as well as you.

Pray ſay no more, the thing is done;

I'll ruine every Mothers Son:

I'll make 'em to all men appear

The worſt of men that ever were.

I Dirt enough on them will throw,

Some cannot chuſe but ſtick, you know.

Among them ſuch a ſtink I'll make,

As bad as comes from Stygion-Lake:

Whereby he hopes to ſave the Papiſh

By-ways that truly are but apiſh;

[Page]By raiſing up a ſtrange new Devil,

That guilty is of far more Evil,

As he will tell you, than the old,

Which now is dead, laid out, and could.

And that he may perform the work,

He doth in ambuſcado lurk.

And ſometimes fight and ſometimes pray▪

And thus unto the Saints they ſay:

O all you holy Martyrs dear,

That lately died, without all fear,

Upon the curſed Gallow-tree;

From whence you did to Heaven flee.

Caſt down an Eye of pity now

On thoſe that do you ſervice, vow;

And let us all preſerved be,

Our full deſires for to ſee:

And that we may at laſt be able

To plot the Plot into a Fable.

Pray blind the Eyes of Hereticks,

That they may not diſcern our Tricks;

And that we may delude them all

Into our fatal Snare to fall:

Or that we may at laſt divide 'em,

And then both ruine and deride 'em.

Have you not ſeen the raging Wave,

With hideous noiſes, roul and rave?

Or have you ſeen the bluſt'ring Boreas

Both huff and hector, rage and roar, as

[Page]He would make all before him bend,

Or elſe he'd them in pieces rend:

Or like when Rain, Lightning, and Thunder,

Threatens to rend the world aſunder.

Juſt with ſuch fury he doth fall

On thoſe he doth Diſſenters call.

Or have you ſeen how Bottle-ale

That's put up new, but opened ſtale,

When firſt the Cork and Bottle parts

The Liquor from the Bottle ſtarts;

It bounces, foams, it froths, and flitters,

As tho 'twere troubled with the Squitters.

So when this Blade begins to vent

His Malice which ſo long was pent,

The Winds whirl'd out with ſuch a rattle,

As he had broke the Strings that twattle.

They huff and ding, hector and rage,

And threaten for to clear the Stage

Of all who are not of their mind,

And to the Papiſts wont be kind.

Through England they do ſwiftly wander;

One T—he is their chief Commander.

Who that he might perform the deed,

He undertook, with care and ſpeed,

Aſſociates unto himſelf;

A mercenary ſneaking Elf,

A huffing Jack, and a great Railer;

Some ſay his name is Rend-all T—

[Page]Now Heraclitus, that he may

Parliament deſtroy and ſlay,

And rid the world of all Diſſenters

That will not quickly be Relenters,

Gainſt them makes a general Muſter

Of all he had, could blow or bluſter.

Damn'd lying Scandals, and ſuch things,

Which now in rank and file he brings;

And draws them up in warlike manner

Under the Ship which is their Banner.

Whence they march with clamorous noiſe,

Much like as when unruly boys

On Holy-Thurſday march about

Their Pariſh-limits to ſearch out;

And fight too with the like diſcretion,

Dealing their blows where's no tranſgreſſion.

The modeſt Parſon goes before;

The ſenſeleſs Boys, like Lions, roar,

With maſſie Clubs threatning to beat

Down all that in their way they meet.

So theſe accurſt infernal Fiends,

With helliſh Malice tear and rends

All that will not joyn Iſſue, and

For Babyloniſh Intereſt ſtand;

Endeavouring with might and main,

To bring in Popery again.

And ſince the Parliament would not

By any means to this be brought,

[Page]But would endeavour by a Bill,

The Romans Hope at once to kill;

They are the firſt he will beat down

Throughout both Country and Town:

Affirming things nere heard before,

That Parliaments ſhould be no more

But little Fingers of the State,

And things that all men ought to hate:

That their Addreſſes humble brought

Unto the King's with Treaſon fraught;

And that whatever elſe they do,

Unleſs give Money,'s Treaſon too.

And next he doth reſolve to run,

As to diſcharge from Towzer's Gun,

With warlike force for to aſſault

Thoſe that are guilty of no fault;

Unleſs it is a Crime to be

Conſtant and firm to Loyaltie:

And they forſooth muſt be made Traytors,

Becauſe of Popery they're haters;

Adverſaries to the Church and State,

Becauſe they do Popiſh Plotters hate.

Thus Loyalty's transform'd to Treaſon

By men of little brains or reaſon:

Or rather men of ſmall Religion,

Which they do uſe but like a Widgeon.

But yet of Loyalty much leſs,

Unleſs't be Treaſon in that dreſs.

[Page]And now to make their Party ſtronger,

And camp more wide by far and longer.

They do perſwade one Aſhinton,

Of England's Church a real Son,

For to contrive a horrid thing,

Wherewith ſome time the Town did ring;

Which was their Creed and Pater-Noſter,

On Presbyter'ans for to foſter▪

Nat. T—they ſollicit to

Something on their behalf to do:

Who willingly, in hope of gain,

Doth preſently fall on amain,

And doth, inſtead of Country News,

Diſperſe falſe Stories to amuſe.

What matter is't, though falſe they ſwear,

'Twill make the curſed Whigs to ſtare.

Well done, quoth Towzer, very well;

I think there never came from Hell

Any that were more kind and true

Unto the Roman Cauſe, than you.

You do deſerve each man to be

Advanc'd unto ſome Dignitie.

Nay, I am ſure that you ſhall have

Whatever 'tis that you will crave,

If once we can this Northern Evil

Deſtroy, and ſend down to the Devil.

Unto which end, I think there's need

That I ſhould write again with ſpeed.

[Page]Methinks the work goes on apace,

I'll ſwear we will not bate an ace:

But them purſue, till Victory

Doth crown our great induſtery.

We muſt, like faithful Pioneers,

Prepare the way by ſcatt'ring fears

Amongſt thoſe ſilly ſordid Sots,

That ſo our well-contriv'd Sham-plots

May follow and perfect the matter

Deſign'd, and them to pieces batter.

And thus this Blade again adventures

To fall upon the poor Diſſenters

With fury, as when Boreas roars

From off the North or Eaſtern ſhores;

Or like when Bear berev'd of Whelp,

Her threatning out with rage doth yealp;

Or like a Lion hunger bitten,

That hath no Meat in two days eaten.

His Gun is once more furbiſhed up;

And being charged up to the top

With Lyes and forged Narrations,

Which he calls Obſervations,

It is let flie with noiſe more loud

Than that which comes from Thunder-Cloud.

Thus Roger grows more fierce and ſurly,

And makes a greater Hurly-burly,

Than lately when he did appear

In's Cit and Bumkin, and ſuch Gear.

[Page]And that he may not want for Stories,

Doth ſend unto his friends the Tories,

Entreating them by all that's dear,

That to his Cauſe they would adhere:

And if the Government chance to be

Spoken againſt by he or ſhe,

By Rogue or Raskal, Thief or Knave,

Or thoſe at doors that Alms do crave,

By Lunatick, by Fools, or Idiots,

That in their ſhallow brains have no guts,

Or by the Worſhippers of Baccas,

When they as drunken are and mad as

We ſometimes, when meet at yonder

Tavern by Ludgate, called Wonder;

Pray be ſo kind as in a Letter

Convey the News, or which is better,

Bring it your ſelf; and I'll be ſure

To lay't at the Fanaticks door.

And if by chance their mouths, for fear,

Are ſtopt, ſo that you cannot hear

Any ſuch thing; yet Guilt aſſures me

You'll meet with ſome that will abuſe me,

And call me Rogue, Raskal, and Traytor,

Becauſe in truth I am a hater

Of thoſe that truly love the King,

And fain would them to Tiburn bring:

[Page]Whereby our way would be laid ope

For to bring in the baniſh'd Pope.

Which if you chance to hear, my Friends,

See that to me you quickly ſends;

And I as ſoon will have't in print,

Whereby the Villains I'll torment.

I'll ſay the Affront's not alone

To me, but alſo to the Throne;

And that the King is much abuſed,

When I by them am thus miſ-uſed.

Nay, I'll direct my Worſhips Order

Unto the new-made brisk Recorder.

Whereby I will command his care

In puniſhing of thoſe that dare

Be ſtill ſo bold as to be Loyal,

And Popiſh Plots will not deny all.

I will perſwade him they are ill men,

And would make nothing for to kill men,

If they can get a fit occaſion

Upon our lives to make Invaſion.

It's true, this is a horrid lie,

Which he doth know as well as I;

And therefore will diſpiſe my Letter:

Yet I thereby will be a getter.

For in my next Half-ſheet of Wit,

I will be ſure to inſert it.

[Page]And ſo though the Original

Do me no good, yet Copies ſhall;

Being through the Nation ſcatter'd,

'Twill deleud men, whoſe Wits are ſhatter'd.

A Whig ſhant ſpeak or look awry,

But I on him will have a Spy;

Who will take care it ſhall be ſent

To me, to put it into Print.

FINIS.

§

[Page]

[Page]

A Satyrick Poem AGAINST Thoſe Mercenary WRETCHES, AND Troublers of Englands Tranquility, THE AUTHORS OF HERACLITUS AND OBSERVATOR.

Infamous for their Scribling throughout England.

By PHILOPATRIS.

LONDON: Printed for H. Jones. 1682.

Information about this book

Title statement

A satyrick poem against those mercenary wretches and troublers of Englands tranquility, the authors of Heraclitus and Observator, infamous for their scribling throughout England by Philopatris.

Philopatris.

Edition statement

1682

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

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Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A62207

ID [STC]

Wing S723

ID [STC]

ESTC R8428

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

11904446

ID [OCLC]

ocm 11904446

ID [VID]

50639

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A62207)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 50639)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 510:10)

Source

— A satyrick poem against those mercenary wretches and troublers of Englands tranquility, the authors of Heraclitus and Observator, infamous for their scribling throughout England by Philopatris., Philopatris..

Extent

[3], 17 p.

Printed for H. Jones,. London :: 1682.. (Reproduction of original in University of Pennsylvania Library.)

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