FAir Umbra, I salute you, who wert made
(Ex nihilo nihil fit)
Doctor of a shade
Poet in rhymes, great Orator in sense,
Score up a man for his intelligence.
Whose Pulpit-Rhet'rick finds a Poetic air
To damn the Sinner without book or prayer,
Clear words but misapply'd t' a sense most vext,
As if the Application slew the Text.
Well, 'tis resolved, that I do rout your rhymes:
Even as the Gout doth recollect your crimes;
For every limb a grief: oh! here's the Sinner,
Who then must be the Man for t' Devils dinner.
This is your Pulpit stuff, then baste your roast
And turn, least you become a burned toast
And so Don
Calamy
shall be your host.
Methinks you sympathize, conversion small,
Where the first turning finds no grief at all,
Imprisonment, oh! that's a thing of price
Adam
in prison was, in Paradise.
Imprisonment, thus
Danae
was in hold,
When
Jupiter
came raining down with gold.
Imprisonment, a stain, oh, that's a grace:
Black spots add beauty to the whitest face.
Imprisonment, who would not prisoner lie,
That he might fare, as once Don
Calamy?
Thus I have saved your humor, and your cause
But cannot abide the breaking of our Laws.
Tell me then (Sir) wherein did lie his glory,
That He is made our Ages talk and story,
For his Imprisonment: All things observe
A rule in doing duty, and never swerve.
When that the Sun doth rise, and brightest shine
It still maintains its progress by the line.
When that the Stars do in heavens roads appear,
They regulate their motion by the sphere.
The beasts are grateful, and receive direction
From that hand, which doth give them a protection
The senseless Echo hears the mouths confession,
And doubles or'e the speech in the expression.
The Sun may teach the factious Rout to shine,
And yet observe external discipline.
The Stars may learn the
Presbyterian
Seers
For to move regular within their spheres.
The Beasts may teach them for to take direction
From that kind hand, that gives them a protection,
The hollow Echo may learn them their shares,
To make Responsals to our Church's pray'rs.
Then save your Complement in the first Rhyme,
A punishment is nat'ral to a Crime.
If that the Sun should wander from its road,
Darkness, its brighter Brow must strait-way load.
If Stars should wanton it without their sphere,
They must not in heavens Gallaxy appear.
If Beasts are stubborn, and would not take direction
From th' Masters hand they must receive correction.
If Ecchoes donit repeat our voices or'e,
We'll style them Mutes, and speak to them no more.
And thus you see each thing observes a Rule,
The Sun, the Stars, the Echo, Horse and Mule.
And when they would not be to a rule confined,
They're punished according to their kind.
And doth he less deserve a prison, then they
Correction, when they from their orders stray?
Imprisonment is proper to a lust:
And who so fowls his Coat must have it brusht.
Paine commonly accompanies a halt,
A prison is the sequel of a fault.
What bore he there for to perfume the place,
Himself, his wife, or any of his Race?
Or carried he the Church's pray'rs in's breast,
Such sweets as these, might have perfumed that Nest,
For private pray'rs bear but an incense small,
But public ones do carry most of all
'It is questioned then, if he'd there longer stood,
Whither he had not done more hurt then good.
For had those Newgate-birds observed his traces
They'd everyone been turned out of their places.
And being past for breaking Law, might fly,
Escape (as He) for non-conformity.
His lying-in called his wife to the Bet
And so her hungry stomach well did get,
He Her did feed, she him again did nurse,
She gat her belly full, and he the purse.
And since you judge 't a mercy great, and free
I wish you all such lying in as He
And I shall envy
〈◊〉
, then you our p
•…
ces,
The Bishops ornaments, or richer faces.
But tell (my Lord's) how you such faces got?
What do rich faces fall to you by lot?
Or came they from Jack
Presbyters
cutting tricks,
Who found such Shavers for your Bishoprics?
Or are they rich compared to their pinched jaws,
Whose narrow Conscience cries oh! at our Laws?
And cannot conform: for why? it is a fault:
'Twill make their tender spirit limp and halt.
At what command then pray (Sir) will you fall?
I w
•…
h you do not stumble or'e them all.
Th
•…
r faces are not (as yours) rich or known
By
•…
at which properly is not their own
Th
•…
've not so big a swallow, as your lust
W
•…
ch strains at their Lawn sleeves, and eat their dust.
Th
•…
cannot with conscience consume a Nation,
A
•…
live on others rights by sequestration.
Th
•…
cannot frame a pious gloss to rant,
A
•…
kill the King by th'force of Covenant.
N
•…
devour steeples, as you did the flock,
Y
•…
neither spared the fleece, nor yet the stock,
B
•…
•
onsum'd all, forct Pastors from their sold,
A
•…
Churches unto private uses sold
M
•…
ing the steeples look like empty sockets.
A
•…
putting up the means into your pockets.
Pre
•
ending highly to most greedy raptures
Ea
•…
th' Contents, and laid aside the Chapters
Ruining all, to build your Babel high
As if you meant a Gygantomachy
To merit by injustice, and by odds
To go to heaven, and there displace the gods.
And shall
Smeck
's
Egypt
Tyranny be a Law?
Who kept the Brick themselves, left us the straw.
And must our Church then lean upon a Crutch?
We love their grace, but do their greatness grutch.
Bishops look toit old
Smeck
is still alive,
And, in him here, stands representative,
Complains of wrong, and yet behold the b- lest- east
By's keeping up a while is much encreast
Thus the Body nat'ral doth often fret
Its own estate, that so the Wen may get.
As for his preaching when that he was dead,
So once did speak
Friar Bacons
brazen head.
Time is, when thou a non-conformist art,
And sleep'st, when thou shouldest answer to thy part.
Time was, when thou didst once conform to me,
And study'st how to make me echo thee
Time is to come, when if thou on me call,
I will be to thee a head Canonical.
Which being said, the Head did bow and fall,
Humbled itself, and spake no more at all,
With that the sluggard straightway did arise,
Instead of reverencing, did it despise.
Strongly affirmed, that the head set up for merit
Was possessed thoroughly with an evil spirit.
And that the Priests that were by It elected,
Were drunkards all, and
Popishly
affected,
Suspend it then: for th' Devil doth init speak,
Condemn its follow'rs, and the head lets break.
But stay, thou man of tongue: what will you rave,
And never leave railing at us in your grave?
Uncannon'd crime, pride grown, are you so far
From rule, that your dust turns irregular?
A
Presbyterian
〈◊〉
most strongly draws
I'st crime canonical to break our Laws?
What isit your virtue for to make a rent
In State, and carp at the Church-government?
Now for our stealing Sermons, so you bawle,
That 'tis with us a crime Canonical.
But isit forgot, that you our lands did lurch?
'It is your crime Classical to rob the Church.
We th' Antient Father's words do sometimes cite,
To give unto our Doctrine greater light.
But they are unpriviledg'd with you, no pledge,
'Cause they condemn your pride, and sacrilege.
Of what stuff then is made your pulpit prose?
Of so much of a
Presbyters
Hum; or Nose.
A novel Writer with th' Assemblies Note,
Considered, as strained through your throat,
Stands for as good Divinity with you,
As any of the Father's Writings do.
He that our sermons reads, in them o'relooks
Seas of divinity, yours shallow brooks.
A modern blast, blowing the Assemblies fire,
A pack of them being burnt will stame the higher.
'It is fit, words, that were darker in your breath,
Should become true Enlightners at their death.
And since they serve for naught, but to provoke
Should turn to vapors, and possess a smoke.
Now to conclude, I wish you all your due,
Such Bishops as the Gout is unto you.
For Non-Conformists heretofore were known
To be most dreadful Drawers from the Crown.
Old
Smecks
proud Foot did claim the highest Seat,
Thence th'
Presbyterian
toes did swell so great.
They are with sturdy humors puffed and grown
The greater they, the weaker is the Crown,
Let's then agree to bring their proud flesh down.
Starve their high humors to a humiliation
And bring their greatness low by deprivation.
And thus the Foot, and Toes may loose their pain,
And the Crown Mitr'd may its own regain.