Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A53287
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Garnets ghost, addressing to the Jesuits, met in private Caball, just after the murther of Sir Edmund-Bury Godfrey written by the author of The satyr against virtue (not yet printed).
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Oldham, John, 1653-1683.
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1679
(1679)
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Wing O235; ESTC R32248
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5,652
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6
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you but dare make good the prophecy Not fate it self shall hinder Too sparing was the time too milde the day When our great Mary bore the English sway Un-queen-like pitty marr'd her Royall Power Nor was her purple dy'd enough in gore Four or five hundred some such petty sum Might fall perhaps a sacrifice to Rome Scarce worth the naming Had I had the power Or been thought fit to be her Councellor She should have raised it to a noble score Big Bonefires have blazed shone each day To tell our triumph and make bright our way And when 't was dark in every lane and street Thick flaming Hereticks should serve to light And save the needless charge of Links by night Smithfield should still have kept a constant fire Which never should be quench'd never expire But with the Lives of all the miscreant rout Till the last gasping breath had blown it out So Nero did such was his prudent course Us'd too by all his mighty successours To tame like Hereticks of old by force They scorn'd dull reason and pedantick Rules To conquer and reduce the hardned fools Racks Gibbets Halters were their Arguments Which did most undeniably convince Gray-bearded Lyons manag'd the dispute And Reverend Bears their doctrines did confute And all who durst hold out in stiff defence They gently claw'd and worry'd into sence Better then all our Sorbon dotards now Who would by dint of words our foes subdue This was the rigid Discipline of Old Which modern sots for Persecution hold Of which dull Annalises in story tell Strange Legends and huge bulky volums swell With Martyr'd fools that lost their way to hell From these our Churches glorious Ancestors We 've learnt our Arts and made their methods ours Nor have we come behind the first degree In Arts of rough and manly Cruelty Converting faggots and the powerfull stake And sword resistless our Apostles make This heretofore Bohemia felt and thus Were all the numerous proselites of Huss Crusht with their head so Waldo's cursed rout With those of Wickliff here were routed out Their names scarce left sure were the means we chose And wrought prevailingly fire purg'd the dross Of those foul heresies and sovereign steel Lopt off the infected Limbs the Church to heal Renown'd was that French brave renown'd his deed A deed for which the day deserves its Red Far more then for a paltry S'aint that dy'd How goodly was the sight how fine the show When Paris saw through all its Channels flow The blood of Huganots when the full Sein Swell'd with the flood its Banks with joy o'reran He scorn'd like Common Murtherers to deal By parcels and peice-meal he scorn'd retail Th' trade of death whole myriads dy'd by th' great Soon as one single life so quick their fate Their very prayers and wishes came too late This a King did and great and Mighty 't was Worthy his high degree and power and place And worthy our Religion and our Cause Unmatch'd 't had been had not Macquire arose The bold Macquire who read in modern fame Can be a stranger to his worth and name Born to out-sin a Monarch born to Reign In guilt and all competitors disdain Dread memory whose each mention still can make Pale Hereticks with trembling horror quake T' undo a Kingdome to atcheive a Crime Like his who would not fall and dye like him Never had Rome a nobler service done Never had Hell each day came thronging down Vast shoals of Ghosts and mine was pleas'd and glad And smil'd when it the brave Revenge survey'd Nor do I mention these great Instances For bounds and limits to your wickedness Dare you beyond something out of the road Of all example where none yet have trod Nor shall hereafter what mad Catiline Durst never think nor 's madder poet feign Make the poor buffled pagan-fool to own How far in gallant mischief overcome The old must yield to new and modern Rome Mix I'lls past present future in one Act One high one brave one great one glorious fact Which hell and even I may envy Such as that Iove himself may wish to be A complice in the mighty villany And barters Heaven and vouchsafe to dye Nor let delay the bain of enterprize Mar yours or make the great importance miss This fact hath wak'd your Enemies and their fear Let it be your vigour too be swift to dare Hasten and let your deeds forestall intent Forstall e'vn wishes ere they can take vent Nor give the fates the leisure to prevent Let the full clouds which a long time did wrap Your gathering Thunder now with suddâ—in Clap Break out upon your foes dash and confound And scatter wide destruction all a round Let the fir'd Citty to your plot give light You ras'd it half before now rase it quite Do 't more effectually I 'd have it glow In flames unquenchable as those below I 'd see the miscreants with their houses burn And both together into Ashes turn Bend next your fury to the curst Divan That damn'd Committee whom the fates ordain To all our well laid Plots to be the bane Unkennel those State foxes where they lye Working your speedy fate and destiny Lug by the ears the doting Prelates thence Dash Heresy together with their Brains Out of their shattered heads lop off the Lords And Commons at one stroke and let your swords Adjourn 'em all to th' other world Would I were blest with flesh and blood again But to be Actor in that happy scene Yet still I may be by and glut my view Revenge shall take its fill in state I 'le go With Captive Ghosts t' attend me down below Let these the handsells of your vengeance be Yet stop not here nor flag in cruelty Kill like a Plague or Inquisition spare No age degree or sex only to dare To own a life only a soul to wear Be crime enough to lose no time nor place Be sanctuary from your outrages Spare not in Churches kneeling Priests at prayer The interceding for you slay e'en there Spare not young Infants smiling at the breast Who from relenting fools may mercy wrest Rip teeming wombs tear out the hatred brood From thence and drown them in their mothers blood Pitty not Virgins nor their tender cryes The postrate at your feet with melting eyes All drown'd in tears strike home as 't were in lust And force their hands to guide the fatal thrust Ravish at the Altar kill when you have done Make them your Rapes and Victims too in one Nor let gray hoary hairs protection give To Age just crawling on the verge of life Snatch from his leaning hands their weak support And with it knock't into the Grave in sport Brain the poor Cripple with his crutch then cry Yo 've kindely rid him of his misery Seal up your ears to mercy lest their words Should tempt a pity ram 'em with your swords Their tongues too down their throats let them not dare To mutter for their souls a gasping prayer But choak't in th' utterance and stab it there 'T were witty handsome malice could you do 't To make 'em dye and make 'em damn'd to boot Make children by one fate with Parents dye Kill in revenge the next posterity You 'l so be pester'd with no Orphans cry No Childless Mothers curse your Memory Make death and desolation swim in blood Throughout the Land with nought to stop the flood But slaughter'd Carcasses till the whole Isle Become one Tomb become on Funeral Pile Till such vast numbers swell the countless sum That the wide grave and wider hell want room Great was that tyrants wish which should be mine Did I not scorn the leavings of a sin Freely I would bestow 't on England now That the whole Nation with one neck might grow To be slic'd off and you to give the blow What never Saxon rage could ere inflict Nor Danes more savage nor the barbrous Pict What Spain nor Eighty eight could ere devise With all its fleet and fraught of cruelties What Medina nere wisht much less could dare And bloodier Alva would with trembling hear What may outdo all prodigies of old And make their milder cruelties untold What Heavens Judgments nor the angry stars Forreign Invasions nor Domeâ—â—ck wars Plague Fire nor Famine could effect or do All this and more be dar'd and done by you But why do I with id'ler talk delay Your hands and while they should be acting stay Farewell If I may waft a prayer for your success Hell be your aid and your high projects bless May that vile wretch if any here they be That meanly shrinks from brave Iniquity If any dare feel pity or remorse May he feel all I 've bid you act and worse May he by rage of foes unpittied fall And they tread out his hated Soul to hell May's name and carcasse rot expos'd alike to be An everlasting mark of grinning Infamy FINIS