Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
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A46270
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A royal arbor of loyal poesie consisting of poems and songs digested into triumph, elegy, satyr, love & drollery / composed by Tho. Jordan.
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Jordan, Thomas, 1612?-1685?
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1663
(1663)
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Wing J1058; ESTC R3145
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52,735
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162
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Rapine shall deflower Famine and Plague Shall both at once walk the Round Then Swords shall be Physicians And by killing cure the wound 8. Churches and Towns With parallelles spires Shall vanish in the furious flames Of unconfined fires Such shrieks from earth To heaven shall flye That death will be less torment Then to hear each other dye Who ever famine 'scapes the sword shall destroy A story sad and truer Then the dreadful tale of Troy Frighted I wak'd And on my knee did implore Some mercy for my former crimes And vow'd to fight no more The Farewell 1. FAir Fidelia leave me now I may no more Thy Deity adore Nor offer to thy shrine I serve one more divine And greater far then you Hark the trumpets call away I must go Lest the foe Lose the King and win the day Let 's march bravely on Charge them in the Van Our Cause Gods is Though the ods is Ten times ten to one 2. Tempt no more I may not yield Although thy eyes A Kingdom might surprize Leave off thy wanton tales The high-born Prince of Wales Is mounted in the Field Where the loyal Gentry flock Though forlorn Nobly born Of a near decaying stock Cornish boyes be bold Never lose your hold He that loiters Is by Traytors Basely bought and sold. 3. One kiss more and then farewell Nay now give o're I prethee fool no more Why cloud'st thou so thy beams I see by these extreams A woman's heaven or hell Pray the King may have his own That the Queen May be seen With her Babes on Englands Throne Rally up your men One shall vanquish ten Victory we Come to try thy Favour once agen The Resolution 1642. 1. ASk me no more why there appears Daily such troops of Dragoneers Since it is requisite you know They rob cum Privilegio 2. Ask me not why the Gaole confines Our Hierarchy of best Divines Since 't was allow'd by full consent The Priviledge of Parliament 3. Ask me no more why from Blackwall Such tumults come unto White-hall Since some in Parliament agree â—Tis for the Subjects Liberty 4. Ask me not why to London comes So many Muskets Pikes and Drums So that we fear they 'l never cease 'T is to procure the Kingdoms Peace 5. Ask me no more why little Finch From Parliament began to flinch Since such as dare to Hawk and Kings May easily clip a Finches wings 6. Ask me no more why Strafford's dead Or why they aim'd so at his head Faith all the reason I can give 'T is thought he was too wise to live 7. Ask me no more where 's all the Plate Brought in at such an easie rate It to the owners back they 'l bring In case it fall not to the King 8. Ask me noâ— why the House delights Not in our two wise Kentish Knights Their Counsels never were thought good Because they were not understood 9. Ask me no more why Livesey goes To ceaze all rich men as his foes Whilst Countrey Farmers sigh and sob Yeomen may beg when Knights do rob 10. Ask me no more by what strange slight London's Lord Major was made a Knight Since there 's a strength sprung out of war That can at once both make and mar 11. Ask me no more why in this age I sing so free without a cage My answer is I need not fear All England doth the burthen bear 12. Ask me no more for I grow dull Why Hotham keeps the Town of Hull I 'le answer ye one word for all All things are thus when Kings do falt The Kingly Complaint The King Imprison'd at Holmby The Tune 1. In faith I cannot keep my sheep I Am a poor and patient King Though some are pleas'd to call me Pope But yet I have a holy hope God will relieve my suffering By letting Peace and Plenty spring That every man may have his own Then I shall sit agen upon my Throne 2. The Royal Consort of my age That hath so oft my Cradles crown'd With false aspersions they do wound According to their holy rage My simple Subjects they engage And arm them with a proud pretence To bring me home in beating me from thence 3. A Reformation next is sought Episcopacy must go down A Tinker's art must mend the Crown By Weavers we may well be taught But now at last they have us brought O're many rigid Rocks and Shelves They are contending what to be themselves 4. My Countreymen I most commend For they have made the most of me Alas it was their poverty They did it to no other end But they have too much valued Me And over-priz'd my Innoncence They could demand no more then thirty pence 5. A rout of Rebels ring me round Such is the King of Englands Court Who but to please their Pride in sport Have brought my Peers unto the ground They chase me like an Infidel Or one that Christian Blood betray'th Although I write Defender of the Faith Rebels Market 1646. 1. NOw that the holy Wars are done Between the Father and the Son And that we have by righteous fate Distrest a Monarch and his Mate Forcing their Heir flye into France To weep out his Inheritance 2. Let 's set open all our Packs Which contain ten thousand wracks Cast away on the Red Sea At Naseby and at Newberry If then you 'l come provided with gold We dwell Close by Hell Where we â—ell What you will That is ill For Charity there is cold 3. If by thee a Murther came We can give 't another Name But alwayes provided thus That thou hast been one of us Gold is the God shall pardon the guilt We have What shall save Thee from Grave For the Law We can awe Though a Princes blood be spilt 4. If a Church thou hav'st bereft Of its Plate 't is holy theft Or for zeal-sake if thou beest Prompted on to spoil a Priest Gold 's a prevailing advocate Then come Bring a summe Law is dumb And submits To our wits For Policy guides a State The Leaguer 1. JOyn thy ennamel'd cheek to mine I 'le bring thee where is rasie Wine And where a loving Leaguer's kept Where many tankard tears are wept For the Cash That is gone that is here Joy and grief in a tear We will wash There we study Revenges Make Plots without hinges More Black then the fifth of Novembers In our Pipe and our Cup Our Estates are rak'd up Till our eyes twinkle like to the embers 2. There with a sack-incensed face In speckled state and flaming grace With dabbled doublet doth appear The curral front of Cayalier With a bowle Full of sack such as can In the most dying man Raise a soul And forbids any venter The Leaguer to enter Or near it commit such a trespass If his cheeks do not shine With the blood of the Vine And his Nostrils appear like a Respass 3. In Fletcher's Wit and Iohnson's style There will we sit and fret a while Cursing the
high for men Shew'd it and shut it up agen An Epitaph supposed to be written by A Gentleman 〈◊〉 himself who dyed of a Disease called by the namâ— of a Bad Wife Nay tread and spare not Passenger My sence is now past feeling Who to my grave a wound did bear Within past Physicks healing But do not if thou be to wed To read my story tarry Lest thou creep into my cold bed rather then live to marry For a long strife with a leud wife Worst of all ill beside Made me grow weary of my life So I fell sick and dyed An Epitaph on Mr. John Kirk Merchant Reader within this Dormitory lyes The wet Memento of a Widows Eyes A Kirk though not of Scotland one in whom Loyalty liv'd and Faction found no room No Conventicle-Christian but he dy'd A Kirk of England by the Mothers side In brief to let you know what you have lost Kirk was a Temple of the Holy Ghost An end of the Elâ—gies and Epitaphs A Canting Rogue Parallel'd with a Phanatick IS the worlds running Ulcer an unfix't Piece of mortality begot betwixt A Tinker and his Doxy in a Den Of Filchers which they call the bowzing ken Nurs'd by a maunding Mort whose Mother tongue Directs him first the way to Nipp a Bung And mill the lower from him whose gazing eyes Are fix'd upon London's varieties That the sad Countrey man is forc'd to score At 's lodging till he be suppli'd with more Whilst the impatient Lawyer makes a pause Pernicious enough to spoil his Cause Nor can the ablest Councel tell him when Or by what trick to gain his purse agen Thus is poor Colter poison'd with a drench Made of Law Latin and low Pedlers French A Language which admits no derivation But is intire and had its generation Without dispute from Babel Tower's conclusion For it is us'd in nothing but confusion As Prigging Prancers Tipping Nab's and such Phrases as make the slovenly Low Dutch A polite Dialect he is one whose bane Doth much participate with that of Cain The Brother-killing President whose fate Gives him the title of a Runnagate His body is his land and every louse Upon 't are Cattle the next hedge his house He pretends Palmestry and as he passes Through Villages the gamesome Countrey Lasses Do get about him and do much importune The Rogue with meat to tell them a good fortune Or else they 'l give him nothing and to ease 'em In their desires the Knave knows how to please 'em He and the Annabaptists were in season One canted Felony and 'tother Treason And if his Mort with a French Coltstaff strike 'T is ten to one they snuffle both alike Both preach in Barns and teach in the same tones One storms a Henroost 'tother strikes at Thrones Both hate Authority for they 're often crost One with the Noose tother the Whipping-poast In point of Baptisme for ought I know The Rogue 's the better Christian of the two The Annabaptist in his teaching tone Defyes God-fathers he 'l have twelve or none In Marriages the Rogue and He accords For man and wife take one anothers words And very fruitful in their spawn they be Both deal in liberty and Leachery To conclude all they are a brace of men That are so like they are the worse agen Whose dispositions could a Limner paint You 'd not know which is Rogue or which is Saint On the Ordinance prohibiting Cavaliers to wear Swords April 1646. YOu of the Royalty attend your Summons 'T is this day Order'd by the Lords and Commons Assembled in that sacred place which we Must look upon as England's destiny That all such dreadful men whose fame doth ring For active Loyalty to God and King Laws and their native Liberties shall be Disarm'd and made a Swordless Cavalry For some such cause as formerly was given When men were levy'd against Charles and Heaven At that time when the Publick Faith withstood The Creed and Plate was melted into Blood When Subjects sought their Master to betray At the old rate of thirty pence a day When Prentices against all Rules of Reason Were early Free-men in the Trade of Treason When by the Factious Commons wise fore-casting Triaenial was a word for Everlasting When the Mad Shires did with Petitions run Humbly desiring they may be undone Not dreaming that our English Inquisitions Did onely sit to answer such Petitions When States-mens Trunks were fill'd up to the brim In Anno Primo Regni Iohannis Pym With more such reasons which are yet unknown You are to lay your Bloody Bilbo's down And march disbladed since the House of Lords Have voted Honest men must wear no Swords And shall this daunt your Royal Spirits that Have gain'd a Fame time cannot ruinate Your Enemies though with a wrong pretence Have done you right and put your Innocence In the true garb when did you ever see Innocence figur'd with Artillery What need you Weapons since there is not one Of worth enough to draw your Sword upon That 's not your Sovereigns Friend and is 't not pitty On the sinister spawn of a Committee To vent your valiant wrath calm your high passion They dare as well do that deserves damnation In such an Act that 's pardon proof as see You wear your Swords it is their jealousie Of you their King nay even of their God When have you known Children delight the Rod So Cowards when their paler fears increase Take blows and subtly bind men to the Peace What need you mutter that your Swords are gone Since you may see Iustice her self hath none Your Valour is not question'd 't is for that You are disarm'd nor do they wonder at Your swordless side for all that justly owe Allegiance to Valour truly know A bladeless Cavalier can more afford Then he whose thigh is branded with a Sword Be not dismaid and you in time shall see The Kings Cause hath an occult Quality Your Swords are needless sing be merry and Pray for the King 't is fit you understand Man's ineffectual aid is vain and light When He that made the hand intends to fight For you will finde when Rebels Race is run They shall be conquer'd without Sword or Gun On a view of London and Westminster on tother side the Water 1658. THis pair of sinful Cities we with sorrow May parallel with Sodom and Gomorrah Though one Crime greater then they durst do there Never to be forgot was acted here Cities so pamper'd up with prosp'rous sins That if they could they 'd ravish Cherubins Cramp their Creator and with popular stings Destroy him 'cause he is the King of Kings A Perjur'd Pair who to secure their own Will Pimp whilst Fornication tups the Throne Prostitute sacred Places keep the Door Where each Lay-Lecher makes the Church a Whore They swallow Oaths and wicked Protestations And with their Axe cut off God grant me patience The Head of Peace therefore they are be 't known A Decolated