To Robert VVilde, D. D. In the words of his own POEM, CONCERNING Mr. Edmond Calamy.
THis Page I send you Sir, your Gouty Fate
Not to condole, but to congratulate;
I envy not Silenc'd Brethren, from Places
Now Degraded; no, nor their call'd-in Faces.
I can behold them take into their Gills,
Hundreds of Capons, more than Men take Pills.
I can behold the Coaches too, and Wine
That waits at Press-yard door, yet not repine:
But it would make others grudge (I confess)
That Rebels should enjoy such happiness.
for so it is, such Knaves always attain
In their lov'd Persecution, most of gain;
When one Sermon, if there is but Schism in't,
Gets more by word of Mouth, than all in Print.
But Sir, for this your Brothers Mittimus,
You say you fain would know it, then 'tis thus.
It is Ordained in PARLIAMENT,
That he should not Preach, unless he were sent;
For, if he did, 'twas decreed punishment,
Either by Fine, or by Imprisonment.
He breaks this confirm'd Law, therefore the Mayor
Sends him to Den of Thieves, from House of Pray'r,
To Newgate, where, though there is companie
For ev'ry Vice, yet there none more vile than he.
And if you're troubled with the same Disease,
You both deserve the self-same Dioces:
So that the self-same Law would from that Station
Suspend the Silly Sisters Visitation;
Whose Yoke-Fellows would part with many Fee,
If from that Jurisdiction they were free.
Then Sir, if you guess suffring would accrue,
Or any wise in Purse advantage you;
Doubt not you may be welcome; but beware
(And say, I counsel'd you) of coming there.
For their old wonted Factions, Policies,
Preserve the Fool, but do destroy the Wise.
Printed Anno Domini. 1662.