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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A07673 A counter-buff to Lysimachus Nicanor: calling himself a Jesuite. By Philopatris Mure, William, Sir, 1594-1657. 1640 (1640) STC 18062; ESTC S112841 8,111 18

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sport Of sacred Scripture and a nose of wax Causing her rayes on dunghills to reflex Thus God the King Nobles and people be Scorn'd wrong'd detract'd and rail'd upon by thee What this deserves let justice to it look There needs no ditty but cast up thy book Yet since thou didst divinity professe As by those ragged rapsodies I guesse From Davids mouth thine errours I proclaime Unto the world ar symbols of thy shame First in a scorners chaire thou sits and thus Thou art denyde these blessings pour'd on us Did ever scorne flow from so foule a mouth As his who flouts and scoffes Gods sacred truth And next thou shalt not in Gods tents abide Nor in his all o're-topping hill reside Since thou hast loos'd the arrows of thy tongue And done thy Countrey and thy neighbour wrong King David hates a two tongu'd hypocrite And these that in malicious lyes delite Thou stiles thy self a Jesuite and so For a diguised lyar thou must go That Kingly prophet truely hath foretold That thy sharp'd tongue which is and hath been bold The righteous to traduce shall silenc'd be Hath not this judgement justly ceas'd on thee And of those curses thou shalt have a share Which 'gainst false witnesses pronounced are Thou art a witnesse false and strives to move Our Prince to quite his ancient Kingdomes love Thou art prohibit with thy lips profane Gods sacred will and precepts to explaine Since thou hast datted flames of infamie Against their fame who brethren were to thee But here I pause and leaves the rest to those Who more exact can pay thee home in prose Who shall uncace thy waires let all men know That they be not upright though seeming so I 'le onely point at some unwarrant'd places Which 'mongst thy Paralels thou interlaces In down right termes in speeches plain and free Thou dares defend that thrice damn'd Liturgie Which had almost intoxicate our State But is abolish'd and supprest of late Which is in sound in sence in words expresse The smooth fram'd modell of an English masse Yet thou forsooth must by thy pen defend it Though King and Church hath simply it suspendit Thus sure thou wouldst if urg'd thereto maintaine The Jewish talmude Turkish alcorane In these fore-going theams thou proves that we Preasse to supplant a sure-fixt Monarchie But in the following head thou speaks beguesse And leaves the great point brands us with the lesse Forgetfull that a base and lying slave A good and ready memorie should have In this our hainous cryme thou qualifies And looses some small shots of calumnies Where greatest should be last shows our intent To loose the raynes of Church governement That Church affairs should not be rull'd by Kings With many moe absurd and futill things So that thou seems to quite what 's first and past And by correcting takes thee to the last But to that speech we answer all in one Our King 's chief ruler of the Church alone And hath such power in that government As is explain'd by acts of Parliament From which true Subjects never can debord So of both states he is the Soveraigne Lord Then with a daring boldnesse thou reviles That sacred name and with base skurrill stiles Though in a roguish comick jesting sort Thou makes of it a sceane a skuff a sport And calls him onely executioner Of laws and worse a servile officer Or H. and least that this for thine should go Thou scoffing tells that men will say it 's so Thus trac'd thou hast by thy pernicious pen What never yet was said or thought by men A fellow here was pinioned on hie Convict for high contempt of Majestie Whiles his Prince portrature expos'd to seal He on a gibbet hung fixt with a naile And though the poore soule harbour'd no intent His King to wrong yet his dire punishment So precious is the shadow of a King Was seal'd that he on that curst tree should hing And that the long-fixt tree should be o're throwne Burnt and its ashes in the aire be blowne How can our Prince then brook that round-spun speech Whiles thou makes men compare him to an H Till the like doome passe on thy book and thee As on that pannell and his fatall tree Then thou at randome runnes in full carriers Darting thy spite against our noble Peirs Against our Pastours and the common sort Extracts the Chimick substance of a sport And like that houling hel-hound Cerberus Thou barks not simply at our cause and us But dares disgorge thy hell invenom'd splen Against the splendor of heroick men Shall famous Lesly now become the scope Of thy envy or thinks thou to unprope His sure fixt worth whose truely noble spirit Whose wit-mixt valour whose transcending merit Hath imp't his vertue in the wings of fame And rear'd eternall trophies to his name Is tryde to be and so styl'd in all parts A never conquer'd conquerour of hearts Is woo'd by kings who would their states assure From all disasters so they could procure His stay with them by his directive aid In all exploits to be their martiall head Then here thy tainted conscience is appeal'd If thou esteem him truely paralel'd With damn'd Loyola authour of that sect Who did such hyreling as thy self infect With bloud-imbrued maximes of Estate For that red front thy war presaging hate The programe of thy book declares a will So thou hadst power thy mothers bloud to spill Since each draught of Loyola limn'd by thee And thus compared proves an arrant lie As who would paralell this raying light With that dark shaddow of the sable night Or purer white with black or good with evill Man with a beast an angel with a devill It 's known our Generall is of noble birth Of famous parents sprung in place and worth Excelling whiles they liv'd but in their son Thryce happy two that left us such a one To whom the heavens their treasures did impart A Cupids body and a Marses heart Of mixt heroick gifts a sympathie Courage with grace valour with modestie Then like a swinish base pedantick slave Thou makes thy snout dig in a Matrons grave Snuff at her asses though now ne're there be Since she did change her mansion lusters three Blinde mole taine in thy work harsh screaching oule Thou bankrupt chyding beast thou envy's soule That strives to byte heavens guest a glorious ghost Who in Coelestiall boures amid the host Of glory raying angels doth receave Such joyes as God can give or man can crave Curst be thy pen curst thy immortall hate For envie should prove stinglesse after fate So all thou writes are hellish calumnies Which take their influence from the prince of lies Curse not the deaf this sacred text I finde Nor cast a stumbling block before the blinde The Lord forbids thee this the precept 's plaine I 'le not obey thou answers him again But will offend and curse thy words are clear The blinde and deaf that neither see nor hear And thus far I the rest I leave to those Whose divine thoughts and pen can well disclose Thy devilish caball hell-inspired Art And snares to trap thy mother pierce her heart That pasquiller that would me thus disgrace And with such spyte spit in his mothers face Gods curse attends him threatned by his word O then I crave that Justice scales and sword May weigh and punish may my native Prince Try and revenge his guilt and his offence And now thou King of kings inthron'd above By whom Kings raigne by whom they live and move Inspire in my Prince breast a sprite of peace And shoure on him thy favours and thy grace Command Lord thy Vice-gerent tell him plain He should thy truth and calme of peace maintain He cannot force belief let him secure Thy divine worship here as true and pure Appease his wrath let not my Lyon roare Nor dart his thunder on his native shore So we shall praise Thee who for ever raignes And whose transcending power all powers restraines FINS Plinius secundus M. Thomas Rosse I. 6. p. 11. c. 49. Eips de militia Rom. dial 2. L. 3. F. de Just. jure L. Scientiae 49. 4. F. ad L. Aquil. Terent. Bacon Es. say 29. Rabelais cals them so Psal. 1. 1. Psal. 15. 3. Ps. 26. 4. Pl. 31. 18. Ps. 35. 11. Ps. 50. 16. Ps. 50. 20. Paral. 2. Paral. 3. Epanorthosis J. 6. p. 18. c. 1. p. 20. c. 6. Pag. 11. This was Ard. Cornuall a town officer Rachel Arnot Levit. 19. 14. Who thus complains of her unnaturall son personating a Jesuite and who hath dispersed under that guise false calumnies against the whole Estates of Scotland and so deserves that punishment set down in Scripture Exod. 21. 17.