shut against them or as others quickly opened The Citizens fancyed themselves Privy Counsellors born inspired from their Shops for Affairs of State and would not suppose the Reformation could be effected without them They were rich by Lyes and all the most sordid Ways of Falshood and must be sage and knowing Pride the first Sin the Devil taught Man tickles them The Mayor Sir William Waleworth whose Memory while Truth and Loyalty shall be thought Vertues must be Honourable and nine of the Aldermen held for King Richard in vain a prosperous wicked Chief shall never want wicked Instruments three Aldermen and the greatest part of the People for the King of the Commons the Idol and his Priests Those the Considers and well-affected to Tyler forbid their Mayor to keep him out own his Actions as done for the Good of the faithful People of the Land and the Common-wealth and his Followers for their Brethren and Companions of the Holy Cause They vow to live and dye with Tyler Many of those who had no thoughts of doing Mischief yet being none of the wisest were cheated into a good Belief of them because of their Protestation which in their first Entrance they made solemnly that they had no Intent but this only to search and hunt out the Traitors of the Kingdom the Subverters of the fundamental Laws evil Counsellors and Malignants and that this done they would give over they would disband and return home the same Men they were to their Farms and Cottages without enriching themselves without any other Harvest of their Labour not doubting but that in the end it should appear to all the World that their Endeavours have been most hearty and sincere for the Maintenance of Religion the Kings just Prerogatives the Laws and Liberties of the Land in which Endeavours by the Grace of God they would persist though they should perish in the Work Which was believed What confirmed this Faith was they made Theft Capital which yet was confined all without the Fold of the Godly were Aegyptians and could not be robbed and paid justly for what they had but they paid not often nor could their Reckonings be great The Citizens were their Purveyors and made Provision for them every House was open to them and Tables continually furnished Their Entry was on the 14th of Iune 1385. on Wednesday a little before Midsummer the Eve of Corpus Christi Day they spend the Morning of the next Day being the Festival in Ringes discoursing of the Piety Honesty and Fairness of their Cause of Liberty and the Courses to gain it Of seizing Traitors Of bringing Incendiaries Malignants and evil Instruments to condign Punishment Of the Duke Iohn of Lancaster who was above all Men hated by them but too far off for the Scratches of their Claws being imployed in Scotland to treat a Peace there whence these report him turned a Traytor to the King and become Scottish About Noon being warmed more by their Cups than with the Sun for the richest Wines were drawn for them and swallowed with that Greediness that they were got to the height of Drunkenness and raved like Mad-men they are for Execution the Savoy of the Duke of Lancaster a Princely Building the most stately Fabrick of the Kingdom was fired by them his Servants there murthered his Plate and Jewels broke in pieces a Coat of his of great Value called in that Age a Jack in Contempt and Scorn to this Prince was stuck on the top of a Launce made a Mark for their Arrows then cut and gashed to Jaggs with their Hatchets one of them who had hid a piece of Plate was thrown by the rest into the Fire with it crying out We be zealous of Truth and Iustice and not Thieves and Robbers The Londoners were here no slow Men they knew themselves guilty of receiving and that their Condition could be no worse they might think too it would be their shame for ever to be overdone in Mischief nor were they here exceeded The next fiery Shower is discharged upon the Temple and Inns of Court or Colledges for Students of the Laws of the Nobler sort but belonging to the Knights of Saint Iohn of Ierusalem to whom the Possessions of the Knights Templers were given by this Kings Grandfather Many Men lost there the Evidences of their Estates many their Lives From hence in Malice to the Lord Prior they hasten to Clerkenwel where they leave nothing of that Noble Palace of the Knights of S. Iohn of Ierusalem but Rubbish and Ashes their Church too was consumed in the same wicked Flames This House was seven days burning down They break open the Exchequer and rifle Westminster the same day The Flemmings or Dutch Strangers who since the Iews were banished suffer their part in every Sedition are sought for all the Streets through all of them massacred no Sanctuary could save them thirteen Flemmings were drawn out of the Church of the Friers Hermits of Saint Augustine and beheaded in the Streets and seventeen others pulled out of another parochial Church dye in the same manner They had a Shibboleth to discover them he who pronounced Brot and Cawse for Bread and Cheese had his Head lopt off it was their Sport if they could catch any Man who had not sworn their Oath was not of the side or was hated by any of the Commons to snatch off his Hood or Capuch which was a part of the Cloak or outward Garment worn then and served to cover the Head with the accustomed Cry or yelling which they used in beheading and overthrowing Houses then to rush into the Streets and hack with their Fellow Jobernolls at his Neck in Crowds till the Head dropped down Our most Famous Chaucer flourishing then in his Description of the terrible Fright and Noise at the carrying away of Chanticlere the Cock by Reinold the Fox reflects upon these Crys but in an Hyperbole of his Poetical feigned ones and much undervaluing the Horror of the Kentish Throats as he will have it They yellen as Fiends do in Hell At. So hideous was the Noise Ah benedicite Certes Iack-Straw ne his meney Ne made Shouts half so â—…rill When they would any Fiemming kill The Lombards scaped better they were only robbed of what they had their Skins were left them whole Wat the Idol had long agone in France served Richard Lyon a Merchant and Lapidary formerly Sheriff of London one of the wealthiest of the City who had given him Blows it was not fit this Injury should be forgotten nor was it it was a Score now or never to be paid he strikes off his old Masters Head which in Triumph is carried before him on a Spear This Night the King was counselled to fall upon these Beasts for the most part drunk and cut their Throats easie to be destroyed if any Man had had but the Courage to overcome It was the Gallant Mayors Advice they lay on Heaps without Sense or Motion tired
out a Flag and gather pence a piece Which Africk never bred nor swelling Greece With Stories Tympany a Beast so rare No Lecturer's wrought Cap or Barthol'mew Fair Can match him Nature's Whimsey that outvies Tredescant and his Ark of Novelties The Gog and Magog of Prodigious Sights With reverence to your eyes Sir Thomas Knights But is this Bigamy of Titles due Are you Sir Thomas and Sir Martin too Issachar couchant 'twixt a brace of Sirs Thou Knighthood in a pair of Panniers Thou that look'st wrap'd up in thy warlike-Leather Like Valentine and Orson bound together Spur's Representative thou that art able To be a Voyder to King Arthur's Table Who in this Sacrilegious Mass of all It seems has swallow'd Windsor's Hospital Pair Royal headed Cerberus his Cousin Hercules Labors were a Baker's dozen Had he but trump'd on thee whose forked neck Might well have answered at the Font for Smec But can a Knighthood on a Knighthood ly Metal on Metal is false Heraldry And yet the known Godfry of Bouloign's Coat Shines in Exception to the Herald's Vote Great Spirits move not by Pedantick Laws Their Actions though Eccentrick state the Cause And Priscian bleeds with honour Caesar thus Subscrib'd two Consuls with one Iulius Tom never oaded Squire scarce Yeoman high Is Tom twice dip'd Knight of a double die Fond man whose Fate is in his Name betray'd It is the setting Sun doubles his shade But it 's no matter for amphibious he May have a Knight hang'd yet Sir Tom go free The General Eclipse LAdies that gild the glittering Noon And by Reflection mend his Ray Whose Beauty makes the sprightly Sun To dance as upon Easter-day What are you now the Queen 's away Courageous Eagles who have whet Your Eyes upon Majestick Light And thence deriv'd such Martial heat That still your Looks maintain the Fight What are you since the King's Good-night Cavalier-buds whom Nature teems As a Reserve for England's Throne Spirits whose double edge redeems The last Age and adorns your own What are you now the Prince is gone As an obstructed Fountain's head Cuts the Intail off from the Streams And Brooks are disinherited Honour and Beauty are mere Dreams Since Charles and Mary lost their Beams Criminal Valors who commit Your Gallantry whose Poean brings A Psalm of Mercy after it In this sad Solstice of the King 's Your Victory hath mew'd her wings See how your Souldier wears his Cage Of Iron like the Captive Turk And as the Guerdon of his Rage See how your glimmering Peers do lurk Or at the best work Journey-work Thus 't is a General Eclipse And the whole World is al-a-mort Only the House of Commons trips The Stage in a Triumphant sort Now e'en Iohn Lilburn take 'em for 't SECT III. Containing MISCELLANIES Upon Princess Elizabeth born the Night before New-Year's Day AStrologers say Venus the self same Star Is both our Hesperus and Lucifer The Antitype this Venus makes it true She shuts the old Year and begins the new Her Brother with a Star at Noon was born She like a Star both of the Eve and Morn Count o'er the Stars fair Queen in Babes and vie With every Year a new Epiphany Upon a Miser who made a great Feast and the next day dyed for Grief NOr scapes he so our Dinner was so good My liquorish Muse cannot but chew the Cud And what delight she took in th'Invitation Strives to taste o'er again in this Relation After a tedious Grace in Hopkin's Rhyme Not for Devotion but to take up time March'd the Train'd-Band of Dishes usher'd there To shew their Postures and then as they were For he invites no Teeth perchance the Eye He will afford the Lover's Gluttony Thus is our Feast a Muster not a Fight Our Weapon's not for Service but for Sight But are we Tantaliz'd Is all this Meat Cook'd by a Limner for to view not eat Th'Astrologers keep such Houses when they sup On Joynts of Taurus or the Heavenly Tup What ever Feasts he made are summ'd up here His Table vies not standing with his Cheer His Churchings Christnings in this Meal are all And not transcrib'd but in th' Original Christmass is no Feast moveable fonlo The self same Dinner was ten years ago 'T will be immortal if it longer stay The Gods will eat it for Ambrosia But stay a while unless my Whineyard fail Or is inchanted I 'll cut off the Intail Saint George for England then have at the Mutton Where the first cut calls me blood-thirsty Glutton Sâ—…out Ajax with his anger-codled Brain Killing a Sheep thought Agamemnon slain The Fiction's now prov'd true wounding the Rost I lamentably Butcher up mine Host. Such Sympathy is with his Meat my Weapon Makes him an Eunuch when it carves his Capon Cut a Goose Leg and the poor Fool for mone Turns Cripple too and after stands on one Have you not heard th' abominable sport A Lancaster Grand-Jury will report The Souldier with his Morglay watch'd the Mill The Cats they came to feast when lusty Will Whips off great Pusses Leg which by some Charm Proves the next day such an old Woman's Arm. It 's so with him whose carcass never scapes But still we slash him in a thousand shapes Our Serving-men like Spaniels range to spring The Fowl which he had cluck'd under his wing Should he on Woodcock or on Widgeon feed It were Thyestes-like on his own Breed To Pork he pleads a Superstition due But we subscribe neither to Scot nor Iew. No Liquor stirs call for a Cup of Wine 'T is Blood we drink we pledge thee Catiline Sawces we should have none had he his wish The Oranges i' th Margin of his Dish He with such Huâ—…ster's care tells o'er and o'er Th' Hesperian Dragon never watch'd them more But being eaten now into despair Having nought else to do he falls to prayer Thou that didst once put on the form of Bull And turn'd thine Io to a lovely Mull Defend my Rump great Iove allay my grief O spare me this this Monumental Beef But no Amen was said see see it comes Draw Boys let Trumpets sound and strike up Drums See how his Blood doth with the Gravy swim And every Trencher hath a Limb of him The Ven'son's now in view our Hounds spend deeper Strange Deer which in the Pasty hath a Keeper Stricter than in the Park making his Guest As he had stol 't alive to steal it drest The scent was hot and we pursuing faster Than Ovid's Pack of Dogs e'er chac'd their Master A double prey at once we seize upon Acteon and his Case of Venison Thus was he torn alive to vex him worse Death serves him up now as a second Course Should we like Thracians our dead bodies eat He would have liv'd only to save his Meat Lastly we did devour that Corps of His Throughout all Ovid's Metamorphosis On the Memory of Mr. Edward King drown'd in the Irish Seas I Like not tears in tune nor do
As Greek and Latine taught in every Land The cringing Monsieur shall thy Language vent When he would melt his Wench with Complement Using thy Phrases he may have his Wish Of a coy Nun without an angry Pish. And yet in all thy Poems there is shown Such Chastity that every Line 's a Zone Rome will confess that thou mak'st Caesar talk In greater State and Pomp than he could walk Cataline's Tongue is the true Edge of Swords We now not only feel but hear thy Words Who Tully in thy Idiom understands Will swear that his Orations are Commands But that which could with richer Language dress The highest Sense cannot thy Words express Had I thy own Invention which affords Words above Action Matter above Words To crown thy Merits I should only be Sumptuously poor low in Hyperbole Another on Ben. Johnson WHo first reform'd our Stage with justest Laws And was the first best Judge in his own Cause Who when his Actors trembled for Applause Could with a Noble Confidence prefer His own by Right to a noble Theater From Principles which he knew could not err Who to his Fable did his Person fit With all the Properties of Art and Wit And above all that could be acted writ Who Publick Follies did to Covert drive Which he again could cunningly retrive Leaving them no Ground to rest on and thrive Here Iohnson lies whom had I nam'd before In that one Word alone I had paid more Than can be now when Plenty makes me poor To his Mistress COme dearest Iulia thou and I Will knit us in so strict a Tye As shall with greater Power ingage Than feeble Charms of Marriage We will be Friends our Thoughts shall go Without Impeachment to and fro The same desires shall elevate Our mingled Souls the self-same Hate Shall cause Aversion we will hear One sympathizing Hope and Fear And for to move more close we â—…rame Our Triumphs and our Tears the same Yet will we ne'er so grosly dare As our Ignobler selves to share Let Men desire like those above Spiritual Forms wee 'l only love And teach the ruder World to shame When Heat increaseth to a Flame Love 's like a Landskip which doth stand Smooth at a distance rough at Hand A Sight of the Ruins of St. Pauls HOmers vast Iliads found so small a Cell They reclus'd were to th'Cloyster of a Shell There Fate attends there Ruin Pauls must be Unto it self both Urn and Elegy But must the Marble from thy Carcase rent Thy Glory once now turn thy Monument Can there no Sheet nor Sear-cloth be allow'd But thy own Lead to be thy Funeral-shroud Since by their publick Vote this was thy Doom Thou and Religion are to have one Tomb And wrapt up in a heap of Ruins lie Intomb'd i'th'Center of an Anarchy Must thou thy self thy crumbled self interr And to thy self be thy own Sepulchre Nay must thy Ruins too in stead of Verse Hang like dull Pendants on thy scatter'd Herse Sure when the Eastern Monarchs shook away The narrow Circumscription of their Clay 'T was thought contracted Mankind did expire And mix its Ashes with their Funeral Fire Such Hecatombs of dying Tribes became Unto their Urns both Hecatomb and Flame So now the unhallow'd Breath of Storms have thrown This Pile into a rude Confusion And from its Aged Head fierce Zeal hath torn That Reverend Pomp which there so long was worn That now its Face appears like whither'd Care Or wilder than the Looks of Fevers are All other Churches which like lesser Rays Darted their Light from this Sun 's Nobler Blaze Did into Order and fair Figure fall As Transcripts drawn from this Original Lest this sad Heap its Funeral-rite should lack Each wears its Ruins like to solemn Black But if this will not serve the Dust of those Which slumber in their Silence and Repose Of their cold Urns will like an Earthquake swell And break the gloomy Cloyster of each Cell That treasures up their drowsie Clay and make All the Convulsed Limbs of London shake So long until it drop one Heap and be At once its Mourner Tomb and Obsequy A Relation of a Quaker that to the shame of his Profession attempted to bugger a Mare near Colchester ALl in the Land of Essex Near Colchester the Zealous On the side of a Bank Was play'd such a Prank As would make a Stone-horse jealous Help Woodcock Fox and Nailor For Brother Green 's a Stallion Now alas what Hope Of converting the Pope When a Quaker turns Italian Unto our whole Profession A scandal 't wil be counted When 't is talkt with Disdain Amongst the profane How Brother Green was mounted And in the Good time of Christmas Which though the Saints have damn'd all Yet when did they hear Of a damn'd Cavalier Ere plaid such a Christmas Gambal Had thy Flesh O Green been pamper'd With any Creature unhallow'd Hadst thou sweetned thy Gumbs With Pottage of Plumbs Or profane minc'd Pye hadst swallow'd Roll'd up in wanton Swines Flesh The Fiend might have crept into thee Then Fulness of Gut Might have made thee Rut And the Devil so have rid through thee But alas he had been feasted With a Spiritual Collation By our frugal Mayor Who can dine with a Prayer And sup with an Exhortation 'T was meer Impulse of Spirit Though he us'd the Weapon carnal Filly foal quoth he My Bride thou shalt be Now how this is Lawful learn all For if no Respect of Persons Be due 'mongst the Sons of Adam In a large Extent Then it may be meant That a Mare 's as good as a Madam Then without more Ceremony Nor Bonnet vail'd nor kist her He took her by Force For better for worse And he us'd her like a Sister Now when in such a Saddle A Saint will needs be riding Though I dare not say 'T is a falling away May there not be some Back-â—…iding No surely quoth Iames Nailor 'T was but an Insurrection Of the Carnal Part For a Quaker in Heart Can never lose Perfection For so our Matters teach us The Intent being well directed Though the Devil trapan The Adamical Man The Saints stand uninfected But yet a Pagan Jury Still judges what 's intended Then say what we can Brother Greens outward Man I fear will be suspended And our Adopted Sister Will find no better Quarter But when him we enroul For a Saint Filly Foal Shall pass at least for a Martyr Now Rome that spiritual Sodom No longer is thy Debtor O Colchester now Who 's Sodom but thou Even according to the Letter Help Woodoock Fox and Nailor For Brother Green 's a Stallion Now alas what Hope Of converting the Pope When a Quaker turns Italian Upon a Talkative Woman PEace Beldam Ugly thou l't not find M'Ears Bottles for enchanted Wind That Breath of thine can only raise New Storms and discompose the Seas It may assisted by thy Clatter A Pigmaean Army scatter Or move without the smallest Strain Loretto's
their Mind Which you convey'd them through their Mother who Even thus did travel with your Vertues too Which to descend to our dull Sense and Earth Comes to us in their shapes and suffer Birth And be your Off-spring who when Chronicle Is all we have and Annals only tell Your Deeds and Actions and when Men shall look And see the Prince and Duke do all the Book And live your Royal Story and that all Which you did well was but prophetical Will not be thought as your Posterity But you in them will your Successor be To the Queen upon the Birth of her first Daughter AFter the Prince's Birth admired Queen Had you prov'd barren you had fruitful been And in one Heir born to his Fathers Place And Royal Mind had brought us forth a Race But we who thought we wisht enough to see A Prince of Wales have now a Progeny And you being perfect now have learnt the Way To be with Child as oft as we can pray So that henceforth we need no Altars vex With empty Vows being heard in either Sex Nor have we all our Kingdoms Incense try'd So many Years only to be deny'd We no Desires but thankful Off'rings bring That bearing many you prefer the King And to us yet have but one Daughter shown Who else had been the Original alone Without a Copy For the Shapes we see In Tables of you but bright Errors be Nor could we hope Art could beget an Heir To that sweet Form unless your self did bear Your Pourtraiture and in a Daughter shew That of your self which yet no Painter drew Who with his subtle Hand and wisest Skill Hath hitherto but striv'd to draw you ill And when he takes his Pencil from your Look Finds Colours make you but a Piece mistook And so paints Treason nor would have Pretence To scape but that he limns a fair Pretence But in the Princess you are writ so plain And true that in her you were born again And when we see you both together plac't You are your Daughter only grown in haste In both we may the self-same Graces see But that they yet in her but Infant be Not Woman Beauties nor will we despair The Prince and Duke of York have equal Share In your Perfection which though they divide Make them both Prince enough by th'Mothers side Whose Composition is so clear and good That we can see Discourses in your Blood And understand your Body so refin'd That of you might be born a Soul or Mind O may you still be fruitful and begin Henceforth to make our Year by lying in May we have store of Princes and they live Till Heraulds doubt what Titles they should give To this may you be young still and no other Signs of more Age found in you but a Mother Upon one that preacht in a Cloak SAw you the Cloak at Church to day The long-worn short Cloak lin'd with Say What had the Man no Gown to wear Or was this sent him from the Mayor Or is 't the Cloak which Nixon brought To trim the Tub where Golledge taught Or can this best conceal his Lips And shew Communion sitting Hips Or was the Cloak St. Pauls If so With it he found the Parchments too Yes verily for he hath been With mine Host Gaius at the new Inn. A Gown God bless us trails o'th'Floor Like th'Petticoat o'th'Scarlet Whore Whose large stiff Plates he dare confide Are Ribs from Antichrists own side A mourning Cope if it look to th' East Is the black Surplice of the Beast A Song of SACK COme let us drink away the time A Pox upon this pelting Rhime When Wine runs high Wit 's in the Prime Drink and stout Drinkers are true Joys Odd Sonnets and such little Toys Are Exercises fit for Boys 2. The whining Lover that doth place His Fancy on a painted Face And wasts his Substance in the Chase Would ne'er in Melancholy pine Had he Affections so Divine As once to fall in Love with Wine 3. Then to our Liquor let us sit Wine makes the Soul for Action fit Who drinks most Wine hath the most Wit The Gods themselves do Revels keep And in pure Nectar tipple deep When sloathful Mortals are asleep 4. They fudled me for Recreation In Water which by all Relation Did cause Deucalions Inundation The Spangle Globe had it almost Their Cups were with Salt-Water do'st The Sun-burnt Center was the Toast 5. The Gods then let us imitate Secure from carping Care and Fate Wine Wit and Courage both create In Wine Apollo always chose His darkest Oracles to disclose 'T was Wine gave him his Ruby-nose 6. Who dare's not drink 's a wretched Wight Nor do I think that Man dares fight All Day that dares not drink all Night Come fill my Cup untill it swim With Foam that overlooks the Brim Who drinks the deepest Here 's to him 7. Sobriety and Study breeds Suspicion in our Acts and Deeds The down-right Drunkard no Man heeds Give me but Sack Tobacco store A drunken Friend a little Whore Provide me these I 'll ask no more A Time-Sonnet NOw that our Holy Wars are done Between the Father and the Son And since we have by Righteous Fate Distrest a Monarch and his Mate And forc'd their Heirs flee into France To weep out their Inheritance Let 's set open all our Packs That contain ten thousand Racks Cast on the Shore of the Red Sea Of Naseby and of Newbery If then you will come provided with Gold We dwell close by Hell where we 'l sell What you will that is ill For Charity waxeth cold 2. Hast thou done Murther or Blood spilt We can soon get another Name That will keep thee from all Blame But be it still provided thus That thou hast once been one of us Gold is the God that shall pardon the Guilt For we have What shall save Thee from th' Grave Since the Law We can awe Although a famous Prince's Blood were spilt 3. If a Church thou hast bereft Of its Plate 't is Holy Theft Or for Zeal sake if thou bee'st Prompted on to be a Thief Gold is a sure prevailing Advocate Then come bring a Sum Law is dumb And submits to our Wits For it 's Policy guides a State The Parliament MOst Gracious and Omnipotent And Everlasting Parliament Whose Power and Majesty Is greater than all Kings by odds And to account you less then Gods Must needs be Blasphemy 2. Moses and Aaron ne'er did do More Wonder than are wrought by you For Englands Israel But though the Red Sea we have past If you to Canaan bring 's at last Is 't not a Miracle 3. In six Years space you have done more Than all the Parliaments before You have quite done the Work The King the Cavaller and Pope You have o'erthrown and next we hope You will confound the Turk 4. By you we have Deliverance From the Design of Spain and France Ormond Montross the Danes You aided by our
their feather'd team appears Doves and Sparrows in their Gears Flutt'ring o'er the jovial-fry Sporting in Love's Comedy Man Hold hasty Soul Beauty 's a Flower That may perish in an Hour No Disease but can disgrace The trifling Blossoms of a Face And nip the heights of those fond Toys That now are doted on with Praise The Noon-glory of the Sun To the Shades of Night must come May for all her gilded Prime Has its weak and withering time Not a Bud that ows its Birth From the teeming-mother Earth But excels the fading dress Of a Womans Loveliness For when Flowers vanish here They may spring another Year But frail Beauty when 't is gone Finds no Resurrection Scorn me then coy Nymph no more Fly no higher do not sore Those pretty Rubies of thy Lips Once must know a pale Eclipse And that plump alluring Skin Will be furrow'd deeply in And those curled Locks so bright Time will all besnow with white Not a Glory not a Glance But must suffer Change and Chance Then though now you 'll not contract With me in the Marriage Act Yet perforce chuse chuse you whether You and I shall Lye together An Epitaph on his deceased Friend HEre lies the ruin'd Cabinet Of a rich Soul more highly set The Dross and Refuse of a Mind Too glorious to be here confin'd Earth for a while bespake his stay Only to bait and so away So that what here he doted on Was meerly Accommodation Not that his active Soul could be At home but in Eternity Yet while he blest us with the Rays Of his short continued Days Each minute had its Weight of Worth Each pregnant Hour some Star brought forth So whiles he travell'd here beneath He liv'd when others only breath For not a Sand of time slip'd by Without its Action sweet as high So good so peaceable so blest Angels alone can speak the rest Mount Ida or Beauties Contest THree regent Goddesses they fell at odds As they sat close in Council with the Gods Whose Beauty did excel And thence they crave A Moderator of the Strife to have But lest the partial Heavens could not decide The grudg they stoop to Mortals to be try'd Mantled in Clouds then gently down they fall Upon Mount Ida to appease the Brall Where Priam's lovely Boy sporting did keep His Fathers Lambs and snowy Flocks of Sheep His lilly Hand was soon ordain'd to be The harmless Umpire of the fond Decree To him to him they gave the Golden Ball O happy Goddess upon whom it fall But more unhappy Shepherd was 't not pity Thou didst not send it at a close Committee There there thou hadst surpass'd what did befall Thou might'st have crowned One yet pleased All. First then Imperious Iuno did display Her Coronet of Glories to the Boy And rang'd her Stars up in an arched Ring Of Height and Majesty most flourishing Then Wealth and Honour at his Foot did lay To be esteem'd the Lady of the Day Next Pallas that brave Heroina came The thund'ring Queen of Action War and Fame Dress'd in her glitt'ring Arms wherewith she lays Worlds wast and new ones from their Dust can raise These these she tenders him advanc'd to be With all the Wreaths of Wit and Gallantry Last Venus breaks forth of her Golden Rays With thousand Cupids crown'd ten thousand Boys Sparkling through every Quadrant of her Eyes Which made her Beauty in full Glory rise Then smiling vow'd so to sublime his Parts To make him the great Conqueror of Hearts Thus poor distracted Paris all on Fire Stood trembling deep in doubt what to desire The sweet Temptations pleaded hard for all Each Theatre of â—…eanty seem'd to call For the bright Prize But he amazed he Could not determine which which which was she At last the Cyprian Girl so struck him blind In all the Faculties of Soul and Mind That he poor captiv'd Wretch without delay Could not forbear his frailty to â—…etray But 〈◊〉 Honour Wisdom all above He ran and kiss'd and crown'd the Queen of Love Pallas and Iuno then in high disdain Took Snuff and posted up to Heaven again As to a high Court of Appeal to be Reveng'd on Men for this Indignity Hence then it happens that the Ball was lost 'T is two to one but Love is always crost Upon a Fly that flew into a Lady's Eye and there lay buried in a Tear POor envious Soul what couldst thou see In that bright Orb of Purity That active Globe That twinkling Sphere Of Beauty to be medling there Or didst thou foolishly mistake The glowing Morn in that Day break Or was 't thy Pride to mount so high Only to kiss the Sun and dye Or didst thou think to rival all Don Phaeton and his great Fall And in a richer Sea of Briue Drown Icarus again in thine 'T was bravely aim'd and which is more Th' hast sunk the Fable o'er and o'er For in this single Death of thee Th' hast bankrupt all Antiquity O had the fair Aegyptian Queen Thy glorious Monument once seen How had she spar'd what time forbids The needless tott'ring Pyramids And in an emulative Chafe Have begg'd thy Shrine her Epitaph Where when her Aged Marble must Resign her Honour to the Dust Thou mightst have canonized her Deceased Time's Executor To rip up all the Western Bed Of Spices where Sol lays his Head To squeeze the Phoenix and her Nest In one Perfume that may write Best Then blend the Gall'ry of the Skies With her Seraglio of Eyes T'embalm a Name and raise a Tomb The Miracle of all to come Then then compare it Here 's a Gemm A Pearl must shame and pity them An Amber drop distilled by The sparkling Limbeck of an eye Shall dazle all the short Essays Of rubbish Worth and shallow Praise We strive not then to prize that Tear Since we have nought to poise it here The World 's too light Hence hence we cry The World the World 's not worth a Fly Obsequies To the Memory of the truly Noble right Valiant and right Honourable Spencer Earl of Northampton slain at Hopton Field in Staffordshire in the Beginning of the Civil War WHat The whole World in Silence Not a Tear In tune through all the speechless Hemisphere Has Grief so seiz'd and fear'd Man-kind in all The Convoys of Intelligence No Fall But those of Waters heard No Elegies But such as whine through th'Organs of our Eyes Can Pompey fall again And no Pen say Here lies the Roman Liberey in Clay Or can his Bloud Bow-die th' Egyptian Sand And the black Crimes does less then tann the Land And make the Region instead of a Verse And tomb his sable Epitaph and Herse So here Northampton that brave Hero fell Triumphant Roman thy pure Parallel The Blush and Glory of his Age Who dyed In all Points happy but the Weaker side Only to foreign parts he did not roam The kind Egyptians met him nearer home Both and such Causes that the World
confess There 's nought to plead against them but Success Malignant Loyalty A glorious Fame And Sin for which God never found a Name Which had it scaped the Rubrick of these times Had still continu'd among Holy Crimes A Text on which we find no Gloss at all But in the Alcoran of Gold-smiths Hall Now Great Adolphus give me leave to 〈◊〉 The Ashes of thy Urn and Sepulcâ—…re And branch the Flowers of the Swedish Glory As rivall'd to the Life in our sad Story Yet not impair thy Plumes by adding more To suit that Splendor from a Neighbour Shore Nor deem thy Honour less thus match'd to be If Compton dyed to grasping Victory An active Soul in Gallant Fâ—…y hurl'd To club with all the Worthies of the World Blind Envious piping Fortune What could be The tottering Ground of this thy Treachery To stop the Ballance of that brave Carrear Was both at once thy Miracle and Fear Was 't not a pannick Dread surpriz'd thy Soul Of being made servile to his high Controul Blush and confess poor Caiâ—… goddess So Wee 'l quit his in thy real Overthrow And Death thon Worm Thou pale Assassinate Thou sneaking Hireling of Revenge and Hate Didst not thou feel an Earth-quake in thy Bones Such as rends Rocks and their Foundations No Tâ—…tian shivering but an Agâ—… fit Which with a burning Feaver shall commit The World to Ashes When thou stol'st crept'st under That Helmet which durst dare Iove and his Thunder But since the Bays he reacht at grew not here Like a wise Souldier and a Cavalier He left his covetous Enemy at Bay Rifling the Carriage of his Flesh and Clay While his rich Soul pursued the greater Game Of Honour to the Skies there fiâ—…'d his Name I shall not therefore vex the Oâ—… to trace Thy Sacred Foot-steps in that hallow'd Place Noâ—… start a feigned Star and swear it thine Then stretch the Constellation to thy Line Like a Welch Gentleman that tacks hiâ—… Kin To all Coatâ—… in the Country he lives in Nor yet to raise thy Flaming Crest shall I Knock for the wandring Planets in the Sky Perhaps some broken Beauty of staâ—…e Doubt To comment on her Face has hir'd them out Let Fame and thy brave Race thy Statue live The World can never such another give Whiles each Soul sighs at the isâ—…d thought of thee There fell a Province of Nobility A Fall 〈◊〉 Zeal but husbanded its Throat That sunk the House of Lords and sav'd the Vote They only State mâ—…e Titles in their Gears He singly represented all the Peers One had the Enemy imploy'd their Smeck â—…hose Ring-worms of the Church to beg a Neck With Claudius to metropolize all Worth â—…ome and what e'er the Suburb-world brought forth 〈◊〉 him the Sword did glut its ravening Eye â—…he rest that kick'd up were the smaller Fry â—…parks only of that Fire in him deceas'd â—…yfles that crack'd and vanish'd North and West He led the Royal War in such a Dye â—…n that dire Entrance of the Tragedy The Sense Great Charles no longer to prorogue â—…one but thy self could speak the Epilogue The London Lady GEntly my Muse 't is but a tender Piece A Paradox of Fumes and Ambergreece 〈◊〉 Cobweb-tinder at a touch takes Fire The tumbling Whirligig of blind Desire â—…ulcan's Pandora in a Crystal Shrine Or th' old Inn fac'd with a new painted Sign The spotted Voyder of the Term In short Chymical Nature physick'd into Art But hold rude Satyr here 's a Hector comes A Cod-piece Captain that with her shares Sums One claims a Joynture in her Sins the Foil That puts her off like the Old Man ere while That with a Dagger-Cloak and ho-boy gapes And squeeks for Company for the Iack-an-Apes This is the fierce St. George foreruns the Wagon And if occasion be shall kill the Dragon Don Mars the great Ascendant on the Road When Thomas's teem begins to jog abroad The hinter at each turn of Covent Garden The Câ—…-Pickeerer the robust Church warden Of Lincoln's Inn back-corner where he angles For Cloaks and Hats and the small Game entangles This is the City Usher stray'd to enter The small Drink Country Squires of the first venter And dubs them batch'lor-Knight of the black Jugg Mans them into an Oath and the French Shrugg Make 's them fine Graduates in Smock-impudence And gelds them of their Puny Mothers Sence So that when two Terms more and forty Pound Reads them acquainted all Gomorrha round Down to their wondring Friends at last they range With breeding just enough to speak them strange And drown a younger Brother in a Look Kick a poor Lacquey and berogue the Cook Top a small Cry of Tenants that dare stir In no Phrase now but save your Worship Sir But to return By this my Lady 's up Has swum the Ocean of the Cawdle-Cup Convers'd with every washing every Ground And Fucus in the Cabinet's to be found Has laid the fix'd Complexion for the Day Ber Breech rings High Change and she must away Now down the Channel towards the Strand the glides Flinging her â—…mble Glances on both sides Like the Death-darting Cockatrice that slye Close Engineer that murders through the Eye The first that 's tickled with her rumbling Wheels Is the old Statesman that in Slippers reels He wire draws up his Jaws and snuffs and griâ—…s And sighing smacks but for my Aged Shins My Conâ—…ve of Diseases I would boord Your lofty Gally Thus I serv'd my Lord But mum for that his strength will scarce supply His Back to the Balcona so God b'wy By this she has survey'd the golden Globe And finding no Temptation to disrobe To Durham New Old Stable on she packs Where having winc'd and breath'd the what'd ye lacks â—…usled and bounced a turn or two in Ire â—…he mounts the Coach like Phaeton all on Fire â—…it for th'Impressions of all sorts of Evil â—…nd whirls up tow'rds the Lawyers and the Devil There Ployden in his laced Ruff starch'd on Edg â—…eeps like an Adder through a quick-set Hedge And brings his stale Demur to stop the Course Of her Proceedings with her Yoak of Horse Then falls to handling of the Case and so â—…hews her the Posture of her Over-throw But yet for all his Law and double Fees Shee 'l bring him to joyn Issue on his Knees And make him pay for Expedition too Thus the gray Fox acts his green Sins anew And well he scapes if all his Norman Sense Can save the burning of his Evidence But out at last shee 's huddled in the dark Man'd like a Lady-Client by the Clerk And so the nimble Youngster at the parting Extorts a Smack perhaps before the Carting Down Fleet-street next she rowls with powdred Crest â—…o spring clip'd-half-crowns in the Cuckow 's Nest. For now the Heroes of the Yard have shut Their Shops and loll upon their Bulks to put The Ladies to the Squeek if so perhaps Their Mistresses can spare them from their Laps â—…ot far she waves