A Key to Open the Mystery and Iniquity of a Poem
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A KEY (With the WHIP) To open the Mystery & Iniquity OF THE POEM CALLED, ABSALOM & ACHITOPHEL : Showing its Scurrilous Reflections Upon both KING and KINGDOM.
Published by Richard Ianeway, 1682.
A KEY (With the WHIP) To open the MYSTERY and INIQUITY OF THE POEM CALL'D ABSALOM and ACHITOPHEL.
THus far His Braz'd faced
Preface
(a vile Design)
Call'd for a
Comment Rugged,
yet
Divine,
His
Book
's no better,
Head
and
Body
too
Of
Polypus
s
•
inks on, to th' Realm Undo;
As Full of
Hell,
as
Ink,
sublimely Base,
If
it
th'
Impartial
Or
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
step by step do Trace.
View
but distinctly's
Jewish Allegories,
Allusions of both's
English Whigs,
and
Tories.
Never were th'
Harp,
and th'
Harrow
more unlike,
Not
Even,
but
Odd All
his
Two
's do strike;
Jewish
and
English
th' vast
Disparity
Next
View
betwixt, but no
Congruity
:
Had
Plutarch
made such parallels as This
•
ond Poet
doth, he had deserved an Hiss;
Of Holy
David
to our
Sovereign.
The Type of Christ he makes our
Charles
's
Type,
Yet draws foul Figures of the
Antitype
;
As if embracing
Queans
over all
his
Land,
Instead of's Royal
Queen
with's Royal Hand:
'It is true this Godly King had many Wives,
Yet neither He, nor th' Rest leading such Lives,
Can be excused from Sin, unless he will prove,
A
Divine Dispensation
did them move,
But not
one word
; suppose God Tolerated
This ill for good, yet not Anticipated
Is his
first Law
hereby, it stands in
•
orce
'Gainst all Exceptions, and all Fal
•
e Divorce;
First
one to one
was the first
blest
Confinement,
More
is a
Monster,
and a
Curs'd
consignment;
Not unto
Wives,
and this was during Life,
If neither of the two have power over
Though
David
did excel all other Kings,
His Virtues shone,
Save only in the Things
Unto his Flock, and so
God's Law
forsook▪
This Wicked Poet, one of th' Devils Imps,
O're looks all th' Good, and like a Prince of Pimps
Fixes on's Fault, propounds 't for Imitation,
A Pattern prompt for a Kings Gloriation.
(
Scarabeus
like) he flies over fragrant Flowers;
And falls on stinking Dung, which he Impowers
A Princes President, like
Machiavel,
Propounds a Pattern prompting towards Hell
Thus fawning Sycophants do bolster up
Their Lord's in ill, their spittle they will sup.
Those Cur Dogs, currying Kindness, suck the Blood
While they but lick the wound, as pleasing Food,
Kind Murderers of Souls in Court are these,
Aiones,
and
Negones,
what you please:
Because she's Barren,
She
must be forlorn:
Though mocking
Michals
may have barren Wombs,
Impos'd as th' Curse of God to cut their Combs
Sarah
as well as
Saul
(whom he doth huff)
The Key of Wombs is at God's Girdle ti'd:
How dare this black-mouthed wretch blaspheme a Queen,
To Afflict th' Afflicted
base
hath even been:
Makes th' Story of proud
Absalom
his Text.
This Noble
Duke
he makes his
Absalom,
As if a Traitor to the King and Crown;
Oh thou
Incongruous Fool,
what parallel
That's Congruous 'twixt these
two
canst thou tell?
Josephus
and the
Scripture
•
imn to life
Thy vile Ambitionists most restless Strife
Sick of his life, he sought to stop his Breath.
A Graphical Description of this Type,
Set out in 'ts Colours, Epithets most Ripe;
Stands upon Record with this ugly Brand,
A complete
Rogue, Ambitious, Arrogant,
Vngrateful, Lying,
a
Dissembling Wretch,
Who th' Reins of lustful
Reins
did lewdly stretch,
Traitor to's Father, Rebel to his King,
Subverter of the People, everything
Accomplishing a Villain Sublimate
Without a
parallel
in Realm, or State:
And must brave
Monmouth
be his parallel,
By Renegado Wits of
old Cromwell.
Five hundred Guinnies makes him sell his
Sense,
His
King
and
Country,
and his
Conscience
:
Oh lump of Impudence, where canst thou find
Was e're he hammering and hatching out,
For two full years any Rebellious Rout?
As did thy
Absalom:
did e're this
Duke
Soothing all Plaintiffs that their
Cause
would stand
Right,
or
Wrong,
smooth them up with gaudy words,
To steal away their Hearts, while War and Swords
Were in his Heart against his Fathers Crown,
Fit to be made a
Chanc'lour
of Renown:
When did this
Noble Duke
aspire a Train
Of Princely Port like a
Successors
Aim?
When did he Court, Collogue, Crouch, Cring to th' Rabble?
All's true of
Absalom,
of th'
Duke
a Babble:
Stoln hath
he
many Hearts,
unto the King,
But never any
from him,
That's the thing
Thou dost traduce
him
with, as basely by
Counterfeit Court'sy
stoop'd to climb
on high:
A
Votary
when seemed
he
for Religion,
Only to palliate Design'd Rebellion?
When did
he
send his Spies abroad the Land
To feel the Peoples Pulses, bring to Hand,
Their Hands and Hearts to his
Conspiracy
;
Though some attend him in
Simplicity
:
Much more Dispar'ty might be Blazon'd on,
'Twixt our
Young Hero,
and this
Rebel Son,
Thy
Type
and
Antitype
Concords no better,
In 'ts
Starched
Verse, and
Dedicated
Letter.
Sage Shaftesbury
thou makes his Parallel.
The only hit is both were Oracles,
All th' rest are empty sounds, and idle Kackles:
Thy
Type
pernicious Counsel did infuse,
That th' Rebel-Son a princely pomp
might
use
Chariots and Horsemen, fifty Footmen, all
The vulgar to perstringe, and them enthrall,
Must rise up early,
call the
Plaintiff
to him,
Shew Zeal to Right from those that would undo
hi
•
▪
Must meet
all Suiters,
say
their Cause was good,
Though nere so bad, yet none deputed stood,
In's Courts to Right them, he
must
undertake,
Promise Redress from Griefs for
Justice
sake,
Though never meant it, but to gain their Loan,
From
David's
Carkass he might step to th' Throne.
With many more insinuating Tricks,
Impatient of delays, th'
Mock-Sun
to fix.
In's Royal Orb before th'
True Sun
was set,
Present Possession
of the Crown to get:
Did e're
our Earl Brisk Monmouth
thus advise,
For a prepost'rous Throne to Tantalize,
His Fathers
Person, Justice
to Traduce,
To th' Rabble say,
His Courts
were of no Use,
To hear their cause, and to Redress their wrong,
Such Poison 's not transfus'd into
his
Tongue:
When did
he
teach this
Duke
to Vilify
His
Fathers Magistrates
for Villany,
To vulgar Ears,
His Dote Age-Government,
Yet th'
People
praise even to the firmament,
Sordidly fawn
them
from their Wit and Reason,
And deep involve
them
into horrid Treason;
That
Subtil-Fox,
the true
Achitophel,
Was at the bottom of this
Cursed Spell
;
(Though he lay lurking in his hole unseen)
To black and blast th'Kings fame (from spiteful spleen,)
As if
he
had no care to execute
Justice
himself,
nor others did depute,
To do it under
him,
nor did
he
blame
Those that neglected it, to h's Kingdoms shame,
A
Shameless Slander
of a
Graceless Son,
Which that old lurking Fox had foisted in
To
his Ambition,
th'
Rising Sun
to win.
The
Setting Sun
found him a wicked Man,
Unconscionable POLITITIAN;
So breaks with him, who hereupon withdraws,
Lays close at
Giloh,
yet puts forth his paws,
Paved a way by h's close persuasion,
Prompting the simple to Rebellion.
This crafty
Ape
draws Nuts out of the Fire,
With the
Cats
paw to save his own entire:
Thus th'
Coadjutor
of this Damned Plot,
Made Hellish Bolts, by fools then to be shot,
(If not its
Author
) yet plays least in sight,
Lurking at home, disguised from the Light,
In's Country House, that it might not be known,
His
Hand
did manage this
Rebellious Son
;
Wherein his
Head
and
Heart
were deep engaged,
Engaging vulgar
Hands,
being sore inrag'd,
'Gainst
David
who cashierd him from his Place;
(When's Roguish Craft was seen with open Face)
Revenge he will take, though at the first behind,
The Curtain undiscerned, but's wicked mind,
(Twice dipt in th' Devils Dy-fat, th' Scarlet die)
Makes him appear 'mongst th' Rebels publicly,
Then gave he
Absalom
those damned Designs,
First
to act Incest on th'
Kings Concubines;
Oh Hellish Tongue worthy to be cut out,
And shred in Gobbets, and thrust down
his
Throat,
That thus misus'd it, prompting his
new King,
To such Unpardonable, Villanous a Thing;
Besides the hazard of's Immortal Soul,
Which Flagrant Sin wise Council would control,
This pestilent Advice was, that the Son
Might be abhor'd of h's Father, thereupon
All Hands of th' Rebel Rout resolved would be,
When reconcilement they no hope could see:
This matchless Fact was done (at his Advice)
Before the Sun, before all
Israel's
Eyes,
Thus he who's called
God's Oracle,
this Time
Was th'
Devils
to promote this Crying Crime.
The
next Design
of this
Arch-Rebel
was
To surprise
David,
ere he succor ha's,
As not enough to be th'
Kings Principal,
In
Council,
He'l be
Captain-General.
Counsel
most Politick, yet Pestilent,
To make the
Rebel
thrive▪ but
David
s
•
ent.
Oh how he pleased himself, and th'
Rebel-Son,
Thus to contrive the Death of 's
Sovereign:
But God over rules, that
Counsel much applauded,
(Man's mutable) becomes betimes exploded;
Now (
Wretch
) review all this which God doth tell
Of
Absalom,
and of
Achitophel
:
Compare thy scurrilous Libel with all this,
Thy Lines, not parallel, they run amiss.
Here thou mayst see thy mercenary Bable,
Thy
Cento Talmud
's a fond Jewish Fable:
Mark all the parts of thy cursed Character;
Thou dost not hit in one, all interfere:
I read not that e're th'
Jews Achitophel,
Had modern Match, save only
Machiavel.
That crafty
Florentine, both
th'
Devils Slaves,
He
was their Master, taught them in his
Traves.
To bolster up great Princes in their Sin,
That their
Applause
and
Treasure
they might win:
In all the shop of Hell, no Anvil can
Be found so set, as th'
Matchiavillian.
Whereon to forge some choice mischievous piece,
No Engine Fitter to transact with Geese:
How well this Hebrew name with sense doth sound,
Most wicked wits are th'
Devils
chiefest Tools,
Which ever in the Issue
God
Befools:
Can thy
Compare
(vile Varlet) once hold true,
Of th'
Loyal Lord,
and this
Disloyal Jew,
Was e're our
English Earl
under Disgrace,
And as
Vnconscionable
put out of place?
Hath he laid lurking in his
Country-House,
To plot Rebellions, as one Factious?
Thy Bog-trot Blood-Hounds Hunted have this
Stagg,
Yet cannot fasten their foul fangs,
they Flagg
▪
Why didst not
thou
bring in
thy
Evidence
(
With them
) to rectify th'
Brave Iuries
sense,
And so prevent the
Ignoramus,
nay
Thou wast Cock-sure he would be damned for Ay,
Without thy presence, thou was then employed,
To Brand him, 'gainst he came to be Destroy'd:
'Fore hand preparing him for th' Hangmans Ax,
Had not the Witnesses been found so Lax;
Did e're this
Earl
our
Duke (vain Poetaster)
Advise to bring his Father to Disaster?
To
seek
his life, and to be
sick
on it too,
As being too long a life, no more ado,
But up in Arms, proclaim himself
the King,
Banish his Father, yea e'ry evil thing:
Advis'd
he Him
to climb his Fathers Bed,
To Rape his Concubines on Tops of Lead?
In view of all our
English Israel
?
He
hates
his
Acts, yet's made
his Parallel
:
Would
he
have
him
to be a Graceless Son?
A Bloody Rebel? wish his Fathers Throne?
Yea and
his
Death who
ever
had been kind?
No, no, in
none
such faults canst thou him find:
When did this
Earl
a Band of Men require,
(As
Captain
) to cut off his
Royal Sire?
No, there's no room in th'
Earl
to
give,
in th'
Duke,
To
take
such pestilent Advice; they look
At higher, and more honest things than Plots,
Unlike th'
Areh Rebel Jews,
thy Two By-gots:
Mark (Fool) thy
Crimes,
so many as thy
Themes,
Thou Sports on Sacred Writ, and thou Blasphemes
Both
God
and
Men,
yea
Great
as well as
Small,
Magnatum
scandal makes no bones at all.
Thy ven
•
m'd Quill spares neither
Earl
nor
Duke,
Nor
Queen,
nor
King,
in thy pernicious Book:
But how (
mad Poet
) cometh this to pass,
That thy
Achitophel
so branded was;
In thy wild Poem's first Impression, where
His
•
haracters
most
Black,
most
Beastly
were,
A
Fiend of Hell, Curst to all Ages,
He
With more
•
oul stuff in stigmatiz'd by thee;
But dost on second thoughts
twelve lines
rehearse,
All to correct thy Sawcy Satyr-Verse:
Thou breaks th'
Earls
Head, a Plaister then thou offers,
When for thy doing so, thou'd filled thy Coffers:
Thou (
Battus Bantling
) canst blow hot and cold,
All with one breath, like th' Roman Bird of old,
Ha's [
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
] [
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
] too
As pleased, or displeased were 'twixt two.
Thy
Fawning
or thy
Faulting
Talent comes,
As Fools, or Knaves thee with their
Talents
Crowns
Thy tickling, or thy
scratching
gift dost u
•
e,
As Men thee pay, if not, thou wilt
Best
abuse;
Thy mercenary Tongue can say, unsay
Of th' [
C.
] or [
O. C.
] any one for pay:
This shows, thou art of th' Cursed Jewish Race,
Hosannahs, Crucifies
canst cry apace.
As th' Tide doth turn, can praise, or th'
Earl
dispraise,
Can cast
him
down, and up again
him
raise.
First wounds him with thy scandalizing Gin,
Then salves him as a matchless
Abbeth di
•
;
Vnbrib'd, Vnsought,
the
Wretched to Redress,
Swift of Dispatch,
and
easy of Access.
He Fame deserved, no Enemy can Grudge,
And had
clear Eyes, clean Hands,
while he was Judge:
Oh
Proteus, Changling,
thus to
change
thy Note,
Thy frothy Fancy flies, thy Brain's affloat.
How comes thy Head to be vertiginous,
In a Diameter thou drolling thus?
Was it because the
Ignoramus
wind
Whirl's th' Weathercock about
thy twelve
to find?
Or wasit because
Apollo
and his
Muses
Had
Worm
'd thy
Tongue
to work off thy Abuses?
Or wasit the
Oil
of Crab Tree, which Anoints,
(As in
Rose-Ally
once) thy nasty Joints?
No better Antidote is found to fetch
That plaguy poison out of th' Whiffling-Wretch;
If this Beasts Tongue be not cut out and
dri'd,
Or th' Head hanged up, in Tyburn Tippit ti'd.
Why dost thou not thy Parable pursue?
Make this
Earl
hang himself, a Death his due;
Were he so base as thy
Achitophel,
Not hope for
Heaven,
nor yet fear an
Hell.
No, no, thy after-wit in th'
Earl
espi'd,
Instead of
Sadling
's
Ass,
(and him Bestride,)
His
Anger
he could
bridle,
all Affronts
He calmly puts up, never vengeance Haunts;
Though harmless, to himself not conscious,
Not as Judge
Belknap,
Self-condemn`d, said thus,
There only wants an Hurdle, Horse, and Halter,
To do me right, and present State to Alter.
Had such despairing frenzy him subdued,
Such Honey-drops thy malice had bedew'd;
Thy Romanizing mind, Romantic Eye,
Had glutted been with this sad Tragedy.
No less had been, had th' Jury found the Bill.
By th'
Fatal Ax his
Noble Blood to Spill;
Had th' Deed been done
by Self,
or by Jack
Ketch,
It Canoniz'd would be a
Romish Fetch
:
But both's defeated, now's thy
After Game,
(Seeing his Sun break forth from th' Cloud of Shame)
With
twelve inserted Lines
toInsinuate,
Whom (before this) thou didst Recriminate:
Why dost not thou hang up
thy Absalom,
Upon some forked Oak; that
Rebel-Son.
Hung by the Head between the
Earth and Heaven,
Both
scorned that Wretch,
a lump of Cursed Leaven.
The
Oak
's his
Throne,
and twisted Hair his
Crown
▪
Three Darts through's Heart, his
Scepter
of Renown:
Thus art thou
lame
in both thy Parallels,
Thy
Absolom's,
and thy
Ahithophel's.
Thy Similies run not Upon four feet,
Are foully founderd, and do lamely meet,
What ever likeness in their
Heads
may be,
Yet do their
Feet
most grossly disagree;
Nor have their
Bodies
better Harmony.
Nor in thy
Zimri
happier is thy Hit;
Thy
Monmouths Type
is a base public pest,
Whose
foulest Soul
's in a
fair Body
dressed,
And an Incorrigible PARRICIDE,
Whom Heaven and Earth a Room at last denied:
Next, this
Duke
with thy Dirt must be defiled,
As if his
Grace
most Graceless were and vil'd.
And having lost all's love to's
Israel,
Which of th' two
Zimri
's
He
's, thou canst not tell.
Not
Cozhi
's Rogue
he
is, nor
Ela
's Traitor,
Neither of these agree in mode or matter.
The first (that cursed
Simeonite
) he's not,
By
Balaam's
Counsel)
He
was
Young, this old,
He
hugged
Outlandish, this
true
English Mold
:
A Foreign Whore, and a Domestic Wife,
Differs
them
much in
Law
as well as
Life.
He
and his Whore in th▪ flagrancy of Lust,
By
Phinehas
Javelin were both thorough thrust;
Thy
Sagan Phinehas
never durst show
Such Vengeance on
this Zimri,
bold and true,
To th'
English Interest,
no
Popish chatter,
Therefore thou dost so foully him bespatter;
Suppose him too extravagant, and kind,
Still hath he a right
Noble English Mind
:
Thou coins fine Speeches for thy
Absalom,
For thy
Achitophel,
still drolling on.
Why dost not thou as old
Josephus
doth,
Coin a fine Speech for thy
False Zimri
's, both
'Gainst
God
and
Moses,
palliate his Sin,
And boldly Mann his Crime through thick and thin:
Zimri
in Hebrew [
cut off
] signifies
As th' Vine's superfluous Branches pruned lies,
This
Graceful
English Vine-branch stands upright,
Still
uncut off
by Romish Rage and Spight;
Though he affronteth them in
Deed,
and
Word,
Saying, fond Romanists do
eat their Lord,
Could they but
eat the Devil
too, said
He,
A Romanist with th' first I will surely be:
Thy wanton
Zimri
was old
Salu
's Son,
That is, [
trod underfoot
] in th' Hebrew Tongue;
His
Name,
and
Fate
harmoniously agree,
Yet on this
Duke
no such Fate canst thou see:
Cozbi
(his Whore) in Hebrew is [a lie]
His
Dutchess
to be such, all will deny.
Cozbi
[
a lie
] was
Balaam's
Tool to draw
Israel
from God, and from his Holy Law;
But canst thou say
Balaam of Rome
hath used
His
Dutchess,
and by her his lies transfus'd:
Thus no congruity collateral,
Can correspond this
Parallel
at all;
If th' Duke be not th'
first Zimri,
th'
second
less,
As cruel to himself as to his Master;
Burns th' House over his own Head: no such disaster,
Befalls this
Noble Duke,
whom thou despises,
And, as thy Fellow scoundrel; Scandalizes:
Blacks him with lines blacker with Hell than Ink,
Him worse Buffoon than thee, to make Men think.
Beggerd by Fools,
and to b' enriched by Knaves,
The
first
are
weak,
the latter
Wicked Slaves
:
But who's the
Fool,
that dare a
Star
so spatter,
(For all thy Guinnies) with thy stinking blatter:
Wereit not below so great a
luminary,
To mark such Barking Curs, thy case would vary;
There's noise in Town of a strange
Whipping Tom,
But th' greatest noise makes this
true whipping John
;
The first (tis said) doth only
Women
whip,
This
would make
Men,
yea greatest Men to skip
Under his Lashes, but they scorn his worst,
Wellknowing he (of all Men) is accurst.
Right Son of
Ishmael, whose Hand's against
All Men, yea great Men never so high Advanc'd:
Whom he calls
Well-hung Balaam
in Derision,
As if this Patriot, were th' old
Priapus,
Whom th' Poets feign vastly Venereous.
But why a
Balaam
must he called be?
I never heard him blamed for Sorcery▪
Nor ever that my
Lord
a
Prophet
was,
Or that he used to ride upon an Ass:
The hit lays here, one
Rhiming
Ass
Reproves him,
Another railing Ass with Kicks be-
Hoofs
him.
Publishing slanders, as to be believed,
Had not three
Noble Peers
his truth retriev'd:
By
Balaam, Balak,
th' Rabbies represents,
Rome
's Church in
Priestly,
and in
Regal
Tents;
Thou'st got thy
Balaam,
though not of th' right Coat,
But where's thy
Balak, Rogers Romish Goat:
Is called by thee [
cold Caleb
] as his Brand,
But why? since
Caleb
is a name of note,
'It is (Hebrew)
Hearty,
and doth well denote
This
Hearty
lover of his Liege, and Land,
What e're black-mouths to th' contrary him brand;
Yet
Cordial
•
aleb
is reproached as
cold,
Is it, because for Children he's too old?
Or is it, cause
He
is not in
God's stead,
To give himself an Heir on th' Marriage bed?
Sure I am that his
Zeal
's not
cold
for good,
We will suppose him
cold
to Popish tricks,
To th' damned Designs of
Rome
he cannot fix:
Next comes to be traduced that Noble
Lord
No better name than
Canting Nadab,
though
Both his Abilities, and Interest Men know.
Yet damns he
him
into Oblivions Grave,
Who would a sinking King and Kingdom save:
Here once again this quibling Poet leaves
His Reader in the dark, and subt'lly weaves
Another slipp'ry name, Ambiguous,
Or
Priest,
or
Prince,
it may be taken thus:
There was a
Nadab, Jereboam's
Son,
By whose lew'd life old
Israel
was undone:
Prince Nadab
cannot be th'
Lord
's Parallel,
Lambs Wool,
and
Golden Calves
agree not well:
Cast out to th' Dogs from his short sinful Raign:
Will th' Harp and th' Harrow hang together here,
'Twixt such a
Miscreant,
and our
Brave Peer
?
Who
offered God strange Fire,
when first begun
His Priestly Office, and haply in overjoy,
Was overwarmd with Wine at his new Employ:
Canst thou make these together symbolize,
Whilst thou with wicked wit doth temporize,
No,
Nadabs
Fire will lick up this Lord's Pottage,
(Wherewith thou slanders him in thy old dotage)
As did
Elijah's
Fire drink up the water,
Concur they cannot in Person, nor in matter:
Makest thou no diff'rence 'twixt
Lord's Spiritual,
And those of th' Layity,
Lord's Temporal,
Thy
Nadab
was a
Priest,
and had he lived,
He'd been High Priest, as th' eldest Son surviv'd:
Lord Howard
never was, nor ever hope
To be thy
Sagan, Zadok,
Priest or Pope,
Strange Fire
doth slay thy Priest in's Youth and Sonless,
This
Lord
doth live for all thy
Porridge
senseless;
I am sure thy comment doth confound the Text:
Why must Sir
William Jones
thy
Jonah
be?
Is it because th'
Storm Raiser
's only He;
What is the Storm which makes thee thus to foam?
Isit: 'cause the Ship will not steer right to
Rome
:
As
Paul's Ship,
when she
ran
between two Sands,
The
Real,
and the
Sham-Plots
of
three Lands
:
Or
Jonah
he's, to be cast over Board,
Will this in th'
See of Rome
a calm afford?
Without a Whale to
Ship
him safe to Shore,
No, thou wouldst drown him to be seen no more:
Nor this alone would quell thy Romish storm,
Thou'lt find more
Jonah
's to drown or burn:
What
bold-fac
•
d
Bard
art thou that dares to call▪
This
Sage
[
Bull faced,
] as if God made not all:
Did
he
make
Treason Law,
well to propose
The
Habeas-corpus Bill
for
Friends
and
Foes
?
As if his King he had most curs'dly cursed,
Turning good
Bethel
to
Beth-aven
vile,
The worst of Mankind by thy frothy style;
Did ever thy
Mock Shimei
call the King
A
Bloody Belialist,
or some such thing,
As mad with Malice, threw he e're a
Stone,
As well as Curses, at God's
Nointed one
?
So
Shimei
did,
venting
his hellish words,
And venturing his life to
David's
Swords;
Thou cursed King: Thus desperately stout;
Had
Bethel
been▪ he had been
Soundly Bang'd,
Yea long before this day been
Roundly Hang'd
:
All his rare Virtues thou turns into Vice,
His hopeful Youth, Zeal, Piety and rise
To Shrievalty, thou makes a Ridicule,
Makes th' City choose a
Knave,
if not a
Fool
;
His Juries Damns, though none were panneld more
In
Honesty,
and
Honor
e're before:
And though thou scoff at his frugality,
Yet not a word, how he set Prisoners free:
Had his Rome plaguing courage been but cold,
His Kitchins coldness never had been told;
This Shrieve to
Babel
brats gave plaguy Times,
His Chain bound them to
Tyburn, There's his Crimes:
And suffers slashes by thy slandering Jeer;
But why is
Doctor Oats
this
Rebel Grand,
Who with
an Accent
doth recorded stand,
Whom thy
Caduceum
transformed ha's,
Into
Nehushtan,
monumental Brass;
Oh wonder working
Mercury,
can thus
Oats
into Pillars metamorphose us;
As high as th'
Dragon,
on
Bow-Steeple
stands,
To save from
Romish Plots three Sister Lands
:
This thy
Mercurial Wit
can do, yet loose
Thy
Oaten Pipes
thereby, that please thy Muse:
But oh how ugly seems thy
Metaphor,
Thus to cast Dirt on
England's Savior
;
That
was the name the
Earl of Danby
gave him,
As th'
Arch. Attestor
thou (in scorn)
God save him
▪
Who
saved
us from that Damn'd Popish Plot,
For which thou scoffs, and doth his
Scutcheon
blot:
Nay, all the rest that therein with him join,
Thou makes them suborn'd Rogues for
love
or
Coin.
Though th'
King, four Parliaments
do all adjust
Their
Evidence,
as well deserving Trust:
Where did he with affronts the
King
Annoy,
As
Samuel
did
Saul
for
Agags
Death,
Him
thou
makes Oats
and
Corah
with one breath;
Can th' Doctor be
Corah,
and
Samuel,
The
last
not
first
is a fit parallel.
Corah
(in Hebrew) signifieth [
Bald
]
Thus th'
Doctor Corah
never's better called,
While he was in
Korah's Conspiracy,
With his
Bald
Crown 'mong Priests in Treachery:
Now he's come off from
Korah's
Tents,
Rome's Lord,
(If not at
Moses,
at
Messias
word)
Discovers th' Grandees of th' Conspiracy,
Stil'd
Corah
still he should not be by thee:
Oh how far wide thou shoots in this, thy Type
(of thy
two Korah's
) Jars with th' Antitype,
They suit in nothing, save both
Levites
be
A
Rebel That,
but
Loyal This
all see:
Save he that's blind, or willfully doth wink,
Thus
King
and
Parliaments
did truly think:
Corah
the Jew a chief Ring-leader was,
Of black Rebellion a most sturdy Ass,
Nor
God,
nor
Moses
will be warned by,
But will be
Captain
o
•
th' Conspiracy:
He
's not content to be a
Levite
bare,
He'l have the
Priesthood
too, and th'
Ephod
wear:
Moses
and
Aaron
both shall stoop to me,
I will be both
Prince,
and
Priest,
(proudly said he)
The
meekest Man on Earth
was moved much,
To hear th' Arch-Rebels Mouth out-belchi
〈◊〉
Blasphemous words, proclaiming th' P
••
ple
〈◊〉
,
They might turn
Priests,
and not be blamed for Folly.
This
Leveller
dies not a common Death,
Consuming Fire and Earthquake stops his Breath,
When but one day
he
and
his Company,
(Like Children) had blown up their Bubbles high;
No sooner are blown up, but are blown out,
And fall on th' Eyes and Heads of th'
Rebel Rout.
Now (vain Poematist) how canst thou take
Right measures here, and an
hit
happy make
'Twixt thy two
Korah's
in the
Act
or
End,
Vast difference in
both
thou mayest attend:
How can thy Jingles jump in any one
Of
Korah's Acts
(Ramm'd with Rebellion)
With this brave
Doctors
brisk Discovery
Of the Rude-Romish-Rebel's Treachery:
Hath
he
aspir'd thy
Zadok
to
Vngrace,
And to assume th'
High-priesthood
as
his
place?
Where are his
Priests
and
Princes
to Conspire
Against
Meek Moses,
for
Jehovah
's Ire?
When did
his Dathans
and
Abirams
Rail
None
say,
They'l not come up
to Parliament,
When
Moses
Royal Writs to them are sent:
None
style that
Bondage House
a
flowing Land,
With Honey, Milk, none
for returning stand,
If thus the
Acts
do miss, much more the
End,
Rome
cannot
Oats
to
Purgatory
send:
'Cause th' sturdy Rebels [
they'll not come up
] said,
They
did go down
into the
Dolesom Shade
Of
Earth,
and
Death
▪ but th'
Doctor
stands his
Ground,
Though th'
Hue and Crye
hath made its empty Sound:
〈…〉
whereof happ'lie blew off his Gown,
〈…〉
Rome's Breath
from
Whitehall
blew to
Town
:
〈…〉
Romanists
have
him blown up,
In
London,
yet
he
may both Dine and Sup;
And
they
have
him
blown down from th'
Palace Royal,
Yet th'
City
shelters him as
Truly Loyal
;
There
thou and thine must let the
Doctor
rest,
Unswallowed up alive by
Popish Pest,
Conclude with this remark, the
Beast of Rome,
To a strange
Surfeit
now
by Oats
is come:
When this (Poematist) hath doomed his
Whiggs,
He hands his
Tories
in with dainty
Iiggs:
Thy very front hath a most happy hit,
Ireland
was first the proper
Tories
Seat:
I wish that
Earl
as
good,
yea more, twice told:
Thou sayest, the rising Rebels
he
withstood,
But sayest not, whether those of th'
Irish Brood,
Or of the
English
; sure, it was his Glory,
(H
•
s name will shine in everlasting Story)
So far as
he
the
Irish Rebels
hush'd,
Who many thousand
Protestants
had crushed:
But much disparity thou wilt surely find,
'Twixt this
old Jew,
and th'
Earl
of Irish kind;
Why must this
Noble Earl Barzillai
be,
Neither in Names, nor
Natures
they agree;
The
Name
[
as hard as Iron
] signifies,
But thou cries up thy
Earl
for Charities;
[Large was his wealth, but larger was his Heart.]
He's Character'd by thy own jingling Art:
Nor doth their
Natures
better here Accord,
Barzillai
passed not over
Iordans
Ford:
Nor did he with his
God like Prince
return
Unto
Jerusalem,
(though he did mourn,
He judged himself unfit for
Courtly Pleasures:
His Soul was so Divine, he could not breath,
I would this were all Aged Peoples strife:
Whose Blood was brisk, and thought not Death was near.
Was itbecause
Chimham
was not snatched away
As
He,
but lived in
Court all David's Day
:
But now thy wanton Wit rants over wild,
Thou seemest a frothy Fool, or Pagan Child;
Profanely says,
to snatch in Manhood prime,
This Hopeful Earl,
was
Providence
's
Crime,
And an
unequal Fate
: Black Blasphemy!
Branding
God's Wisdom,
and his
Purity
:
He that doth all things well, must he
be blamed?
His ways are not unequal,
yet defam'd,
Must
Human Folly Divine Wisdom
thwart?
Must th'
Sun
corrected be by th'
Dyals Art
?
God of his matters never gives Account,
His
Will
's a
Law,
as He's
Lord Paramount:
But why dost thou from grave
Barzillai
fly.
Next unto
Zadok
so prepost'rously;
None 'twixt that
Prince,
and this
Priest
canst thou find?
Distressed
David
had one Princely Friend;
Stuck close to
David
(against
Absalom
)
Who
was
an Exile
yet though
Hebrew Faith
Third part of th' Army to
his
Conduct was
Strong
was his Name,
my Sign,
and
Plowshare
too,
In th' Holy Tongue, all th' Rebels to undo:
How camest thou this
Brave Prince
to overlook,
(Before thy
Zadok
in thy pedantic Book,
May be; 'twas willful blindness not to trace
A Parallel to suit
Prince Rupert
's case,
Of Royal Extract, and an Exile is,
Through By got Papists, yet he's
England's Bliss,
Stoutly asserteth the
Reformed Faith
'Gainst Wind and Tide (with
David
) weather'd hath:
Third part of th' Army was
his
Commission,
True hath he been to th'
Father,
and to th' Son:
Nor hath
he
wanted
Triumphs
in his Days,
God Grant
he
may
our Faith
to Triumph raise:
Had'st thou Hit here on this
Right Parallel,
It might have qualified some Errors well:
Neither in
this,
lines Parallel can run,
Abiathar
(then High Priest) had not done,
Zadok
was then but
Sagan
under
him,
Whom Solomon
displac'd, placed
Zadok
in:
Whose
lowly mind
raised not to Grace or Place,
'Twas 'cause descended right of
Aaron's
Race:
Hadst thou thy
Talmud
well consulted, there
Thou mightest have found a
Law
that doth declare,
None High Priest
can be, till he's
Sagan
first,
But th'
English Zadok
's Leap oppose who durst?
Having a Royal Hand to help him over,
All th'
Bishops
Heads, though
he
was
none
before,
Much less the
Sagan,
which he should have been
Before (by th'
Talmud
)
Metropolitene:
Thy
Zadok,
that
his Poet
thou mayst be,
Or better dignified, would th'
old Man
die,
And leave for
him
his
Lambeth
Dignity:
Hence 'tis, a
Distich
must thy
Zadok
starve,
Eight lines (no less) must thy
Young Sagan
serve;
Wherein thou Skews him off with motly Colours,
Hoping to have his
Crowns,
if not his
Dollars,
Yea better,
Angels, Guinnies,
all in Sums,
When from
Annas
to
Caiaphas he
comes:
How he suits
David
's
Worthies
more or less;
The Jewish
Adriel
of
Ephraim,
Twice
Saul
to
David
had
her
promised,
Yet
Adriel
dare take
her
to his Bed;
Whereby
perfidiousness
was briskly bang'd:
Can
this Man
represent
our David
's
Friend
;
More like he is a
Foe
or a
Damn'd Fiend:
'It is true,
he
hath some Honors, lately took
From th'
Dutiful,
(not
Disobedient
)
Duke
;
The Hebrew name [
the Flock of God
] doth sound,
I wish him [
of it
] and [
in it
] be found:
Thou makes him so, 'cause he both Parties Tri's;
Jotham
was one, who could declare his
Mind,
His
meaning,
till became
fixed Mercury,
'Fore e're in
motion,
never
rest
quietly:
Jotham
was one who
Curses
could pour forth,
(Even on the
Mount of Blessing
) looking
North
:
As if affrighted with a
Parliament.
Thy Parallel may meet in
these,
in
more,
Yet differs it, for
he
was long before
King David,
so
he
could not be his Friend,
Slain were his Brethren by a
Bastard-Hind
:
He
was but
young, thine old,
a
Savior
's Son
Was
he,
and had God's Inspiration;
For
••
lli
•
g Fates, that fell upon his Foes,
He
〈◊〉
bloody Bramble
to oppose:
Quadrate these cannot in thy Parallel,
No better hit have
Hushai, Ammiel
:
Hasting
to Honors, to vain
Poets
kind;
Thy wild harangue therefore doth
Varnish
thus,
[Most
Frugal
he's, and yet most
Bounteous:
]
Thy
Type
is blamed for Deep Dissimulation,
And for Equivocating Reservation;
Pretending Service,
but
Intending Slips
▪
Is
T
•
is
〈◊〉
Lettuc
•
for thy
••
attering
〈◊〉
?
Or will
•
his
w
•••
thy
Ant
•••
pe
agree
•
Perhaps His sta
••
hit
Oration
•
thou mayest see
That to Ambition are adapted well,
His
Friend
's for a
Fool's Paradise
to sell:
The Poet
saith, that
Sca
•
comes hindermost;
Why wilt thou Thrust
Him
last on whom's thy
Boast?
As if all other Chairmen, Charioteers
Were but fond
Phaetons
to Him, none steers
(Like this
Brave Pilot
) th'
Ship,
the
Sanhedrin,
That since Run wrong, because they Question Him,
Which of the Scripture
Ammiels
as He?
But barely
Nam'd,
then
where
's thy
Harmony
?
One is
Cold Caleb's Comrade,
the other is
Achitophel
's
Ally,
so not
thy Bliss:
Thy
Wearied Muse
(thou sayst) must bear the Blame
For
Hobbling
thus at th'closing of the Game:
Thy
Mingles
(both of
Paint
and
Dirt
) are
much,
Thy Cap'ring Jumps, and Cogging Dy's are such,
That (with
thy Muse
)
My Muse
is wearied;
'It is time for both now to betake to
Bed,
There
Acquiesce
in Hope of
Parliaments
That
may chastise thy
Senseless Sentiments.
FINIS.