Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A50557
|
The Melancholy comlaint of D. Otes of the black ingratitude of this present age towards him and the evil rewards he has receiv'd for his numberless services done for the nations
|
|
1684
(1684)
|
Wing M1634; ESTC R15052
|
7,340
|
11
|
THE Melancholy Complaint OF D. OTES OF The Black Ingratitude of this present Age TOWARDS HIM And the Evil Rewards he has Receiv'd for his NUMBERLESS SERVICES Done for the NATION Dii siqua est Coelo pietas quae talia curet Persolvant grates dignas praemia reddant Debita Virg. Aen. 2. LONDON Printed for Charles Brome at the Gun in St. Paul's Church-Yard MDCLXXXIV THE Melancholy Complaint OF D. OTES WHat could a curst ungrateful Age do more Imposture like to punnish him so sore Whom for a Saviour they ador'd before I was the man O! cruell change of Fate Once thought the Pillar of the sinking State Am now become the very Jayl-birds hate Out of a Pallace into a Dungeon thrust From Six good Dishes to snap at a crust By God and man like Cain mark't out and curst Is this the end of all my promis'd Joys I that once made such Busle and such Noise Puft up with Triumphs of the shouting Boys With what applause was I receiv'd by th' Rabble When I gave hopes for to rebuild their Babel But now they 'll hang me ' cause I was not able With watring Chopps I call to mind the cheer That oft I made with many a Noble Peer Now in good time may snack the basket here I do remember too how tumbling pence Came rowling in when I did first commence Master of th' Art and Doctor Evidence For want of which I never shall get hence 'T is strange that Bolts and Bars and Iron Grates The Just reward of perjur'd Rogues and Cheats Should prove the Praemium of my glorious Feats Ungrateful Slaves What! have ye quite forgot How for your sakes strange Kingdoms I did trot Brought nothing home but th' wonder of my Plot Though many shifts 〈◊〉 I have been put too Scarce able to provide 〈◊〉 back and gut too And often times was forc'd to pad a-foot too Nay many times I 've lain all day in Bed Because abroad I durst not shew my head But when 't grew dark stole out to beg my bread What I have suffer'd for the Kingdom 's sake In want's and dangers what I did pertake And now to fear the Gibbet or the Stake Brethren 't will cause your tender hearts to ake I curst my Country and deny'd my Credo And for the Nations good turn'd Runegado Received Cruell Whitebread's Bastinado I worship't Idols that were false I knew And when I 'd done swore they were Gods most true And play'd the Devil for the sakes of you I pray'd to Saints in time of need with cryes Till they had granted my necessities My Almes obtain'd their Saint-ship's I 'd despise I chang'd Religion often as my name Spew'd out and hated whereso'ere I came Hanted by th' Devil Beggary and shame Through the wild Sects and Tribes I made a Ramble And to them all did lye swear and dissemble Enough to make the very Devils tremble Thus by me were the silly Jesuites sham'd When as with tears I swore I should be damn'd If not receiv'd into their Holy Band. I made them think Religion was the Tye That did engage me when I came to Spye Since 't is well known the Devil a bit had I. I made his Holiness believe the Pope That in his pardons I conceived such hope That for his cause I 'd suffer Fire or Rope But when I 'd got my foot out of his door I Rail'd and call'd him Babylonian Whore And many Horrid things against him swore For why I ne're yet valued Faith or Troth Or ever made more scruple of an Oath Then of a blast of breath to cool my Broth. I quickly kill'd the worm within that gnaws And made the Gospel Prophets and the Laws Come truckle Brethren to your good Old Cause I laught at all Religion and its Baubles Such as Evangelists and holy Tables Esteeming them no more then Aesops Fables Like merry Lucian look't on 't as a Tale A dull insipid thing grown Old and Stale Serves me to joak on o're a pot of Ale I scoff't and scorn'd but ne're would cringe or bow To those grave fools that do such tales allow And would have judg'd them to the Cart or Plough That with you I might gain repute and fame I laught at Conscience as a Bug-bear name And shook off quite all modesty and shame In hopes once more you'd come to rule the Roast I mad my self Knight-errant of the Post Of which I take the vanity to boast For good of Common-Wealth without repine I franckly Dedicated me and mine Contemning Laws both humane and divine Vast Sums I in the publick service spent Much money to the needy Jesuit Lent When at that time I 'd neither Land nor Rent The corresponding charges I did own When to the Lords my just accounts were shown Besides some By-ones more than e're were known The many painfull journeys to and fro Embassador 'twixt Devil and Turk to go To all the World my vast expences show Besides for Flying Horses which would scower To France or Spain and back in half an hour With old Nicks fees for granting me this power I morgag'd all my Heritage and Lands To purchase from the Roman General 's hands Commissions for my new rais'd secret Bands But Oh! â—he Devil poor man was ne're so crost When God knows what those Roman Bulls had cost Lo suddenly they vanisht and were lost To Mâ—â—iber for strange and curious Arms Made with such cunning magick spells and charms To fright and fear and do no further harms Procuring of rich Cordials for the King The which I judg'd the saf'st and surest thing Him to his bed of longest rest to bring For Blunder-buss or Cross-bow I count nought Because for secret services they were bought Besides were not well manag'd as they ought At many other charges I have been For preservation of the Duke and Queen And swearing things were never heard nor seen For Doctor-ship and Salamanca fees Where Pistols flew away as thick as Bees Pox on their University degrees For antient books that I in Aegypt bought From the fam'd Ptolemaeus Study brought No Gypsie gibberish ones as some have thought I bought in Spain the witty Guzman's works The holy league 'twixt Teckley and the Turks With Machiavel's state-niceties and querks All this and more I freely did disburse For th' Nations good out of my privy purse And never thought my self a groat the worse But this is nothing to a thousand more Good services that I have still in store Such as the Devil himself ne're did before The many famous deeds that I have done Since I the Kingdoms mighty work begun Have made Ketch half as rich as squire Dunn What Tongue can tell with how much cunning Art I did contrive my Plot in every part Of which the Tories should have felt the smart For whom I list of it I could accuse If to compound with me they did refuse I swore good Christians to be Turks and Jews The Jesuites I set like any