seem To grasp and joys yet blushes too in Dream She wakes and long in wonder silent lies And thinks on her late pleasing Extasies Now likes and now abhors her guilty flame By turns abandon'd to her Love and Shame At length her struggling thoughts an utt'rance sind And vent the wild disorders of her mind Ah me she cries kind Heaven avert what means This boading form that nightly rides my dreams Grant 'em untrue why should lewd hope divine Ah! why was this too charming Vision seen 'T is true by the most envious wretch that sees He 's own'd all fair and lovely own'd a prize Worthy the conquest of the brightest eyes A prize that wou'd my high'st ambition fill All I could wish but he 's my Brother still That cruel word for ever must disjoyn Nor can I hope but thus to have him mine Since then I waking never must possess Let me in sleep at least enjoy the bliss And sure nice Vertue can't forbid me this Kind sleep does no malicious spies admit Yet yields a lively semblance of delight Gods what a scene of joy was that how fast I clasp'd the Vision to my panting breast With what fierce bounds I sprung to meet my bliss While my wrapt soul flew out in every kiss Till breathless faint and softly sunk away I all dissolv'd in reeking pleasures lay How sweet is the remembrance yet though night Too hasty fled drove on by envious light O that we might the Laws of Nature break How well could Caunus me an Husband make How well to Wife might he his Byblis take Wou'd God! in all things we had partners bin Besides our Parents and our fatal Kin Wou'd thou wert nobler I more meanly born Then guiltless I despair'd and suffer'd scorn Happy that Maid unknown whoe're shall prove So blest so envied to deserve thy love Unhappy me whom the same womb did joyn Which now forbids me ever to be thine Curst fate that we alone in that agree By which we ever must divided be And must we be what meant my Visions then Are they and all their dear presages vain Have dreams no credit but with easie love Or do they hit sometimes and faithful prove The Gods forbid yet those whom I invoke Have lov'd like me have their own Sisters took Great Saturn and his greater Off-spring Iove Both stock'd their Heaven with incestuous love Gods have their priviledge why do I strive To strain my hopes to their Prerogative No let me banish this forbidden fire Or quench it with my blood and with 't expire Unstain'd in honour and unhurt in fame Let the same Grave bury my Love and Shame But when at my last hour I gasping lie Let only my kind Murderer be by Let him while I breath out my soul in sighs Or gaze't away look on with pittying eyes Let him for sure he can't deny me this Seal my cold Lips with one dear parting Kiss Besides 't were vain should I alone agree To what another's will must ratifie Cou'd I be so abandon'd to consent What I have pass'd for good and innocent He may perhaps as worst of Crimes resent Yet we amongst our race examples sind Of Brothers who have been to Sisters kind Fam'd Canace cou'd thus successful prove Cou'd crown her wishes in a Brother's love But whence cou'd I these instances produce How ' came I witty to my ruine thus Whither will this mad frenzy hurry on Hence hence you naughty flames far hence be gone Nor let me e're the shameful Passion own And yet shou'd he address I shou'd forgive I fear I fear I shou'd his suit receive Shall therefore I who cou'd not love disown Offer'd by him not mine to him make known And canst thou speak can thy bold tongue declare Yes Love shall force and now methinks I dare But lest fond modesty at length refuse I will some sure and better method chuse A Letter shall my secret flames disclose And hide my Blushes but reveal their cause This takes and 't is resolv'd as soon as said With this she rais'd her self upon her bed And propping with her hand her leaning head Happen what will says she I 'le make him know What pains what raging pains I undergo Ah me I rave what tempests shake my breast And where O where will this distraction rest Trembling her Thoughts endite and oft her Eye Looks back for fear of conscious spies too nigh One hand her Paper t'other holds her Pen And Tears supply what Ink her Lines must drain Now she begins now stops and stopping frames New doubts now writes and now her Writing damns She writes defaces alters likes and blames Oft throws in haste her Pen and Paper by Then takes 'em up again as hastily Unsteady her resolves fickle and vain No sooner made but strait unmade again What her desires wou'd have she does not know Displeas'd with all what e're she goes to do At once contending shame and hope and fear Wrack her tost mind and in her looks appear Sister was wrote but soon mis-giving doubt Recals it and the guilty word blots out Again she pauses and again begins At length her Pen drops out these hasty Lines Kind health which you and only you can grant Which if deny'd she must for ever want To you your Lover sends ah blushing shame In silence bids her Paper hide her name Wou'd God! the fatal message might be done Without annexing it nor Byblis known E're blest success her hopes and wishes crown And had I now my smother'd grief conceal'd It might by tokens past have been reveal'd A thousand proofs were ready to impart The inward anguish of my wounded heart Oft as your sight a sudden blush did raise My blood came up to meet you at my face Oft if you call to mind my longing Eyes Betray'd in looks my souls too thin disguise Think how their Tears think how my heaving Brâ—ast Oft in deep sighs some cause unknown confest Think how these Arms did oft with fierce embrace Eager as my desires about you press These Lips too when they cou'd so happy prove Had you but mark'd with close warm kisses strove To whisper something more than Sisters love And yet though rankling grief my mind distrest Though raging flames within burnt up my breast Long time I did the mighty pain endure Long strove to bring the fierce disease to cure Witness the cruel Pow'rs who did inspire This strange this fatal this resistless fire Witness what pains for you alone can know This helpless wretch to quench't did undergo A thousand Racks and Martyrdoms and more Than a weak Virgin can be thought I bore O'rematch'd in pow'r at last I 'm forc'd to yield And to the conqu'ring God resign the field To you dear cause of all I make address From you with humble pray'rs I beg redress You rule alone my arbitrary fate And life and death on your disposal wait Ordain as you think fit deny or grant Yet know no stranger is your suppliant But
late reigning Witch th' Enchantment broke It shall again Hell and I say 't have ye But courage to make good the Prophesie Not Fate it self shall hinder Too sparing was the time too mild the day When our great Mary bore the English sway Unqueen-like pity marr'd her Royal Pow'r Nor was her Purple dy'd enough in Gore Four or five hundred such-like petty sum Might fall perhaps a Sacrifice to Rome Scarce worth the naming had I had the Pow'r Or bin thought fit t' have bin her Councellor She should have rais'd it to a nobler score Big Bonfires should have blaz'd and shone each day To tell our Triumphs 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 the prudent course Taken 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 harden'd Fools Racks gibbets halters were their arguments Which did most undeniably convince Grave bearded Lions manag'd the dispute And reverend Bears their doctrins did confute And all who would stand out in stiff defence They gently claw'd and worried into sence Better than all our Sorbon dotards now Who would by dint of words our Foes subdue This was the riged discipline of old Which modern sots for Persecution hold Of which dull Annalists in story tell Strange legends and huge bulky volumus swell With Martyr'd Fools that lost their way to hell From these our Church's glorious Ancestours We 've learnt our arts made their methods ours Nor have we come behind the least degree In acts of rough and manly cruelty Converting faggots and the pow'rful stake And Sword resistless our Apostles make This heretofore Bohemia felt and thus Were all the num'rous proselites of Huss Crush'd with their head So Waldo's cursed rout And those of Wickliff here were rooted out Their names scarce left Sure were the means we chose And wrought prevailingly Fire purg'd the dross Of those foul heresies and soveraign Steel Lopt off th' 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 than for a paltry Saint that died How goodly was the Sight how fine the Show When Paris saw through all its Channels flow The blood of Huguenots when the full Sein Swell'd with the flood its Banks with joy o'reran He scorn'd like common Murderers to deal By parcels and piecemeal he scorn'd Retail I' th' Trade of Death whole Myriads died by th' great Soon as one single life so quick their Fate Their very Pray'rs and Wishes came too late This a King did and great and mighty 't was Worthy his high Degree and Pow'r and Place And worthy our Religion and our Cause Unmatch'd 't had bin had not Mac-quire arose The bold Mac-quire who read in modern Fame Can be a Stranger to his Worth and Name Born to outsin a Monarch born to Reign In Guilt and all Competitors disdain Dread Memory whose each mention still can make Pale Hereticks with trembling Horrour quake T' undo a Kingdom to atchieve a crime Like his who would not fall and die 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 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 baffled Pagan Fool confess How much a Christian Crime can conquer his How far in gallant mischief overcome The old must yield to new and modern Rome Mix Ills past present future in one act One high one brave one great one glorious Fact Which Hell and very I may envy Such as a God himself might wish to be A Complice in the mighty villany And barter's heaven and vouchsafe to die Nor let Delay the bane of Enterprize Marr yours or make the great importance miss This fact has wak'd your Enemies and their fear Let it your vigour too your haste and care Be swift and let your deeds forestall intent Forestall even 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 gath'ring thunder now with sudden clap Break out upon your Foes dash and confound And scatter wide destruction all around Let the fir'd City to your Plot give light You raz'd it half before now raze it quite Do 't more effectually I 'd see it glow In flames unquenchable as those below I 'd see the Miscreants with their houses burn And all together into ashes turn Bend next your fury to the curst Divan That damn'd Committee whom the Fates ordain Of all our well-laid Plots to be the bane Unkennel those State-Foxes where they ly Working your speedy fate and destiny Lug by the ears the doting Prelates thence Dash Heresie together with their Brains Out of their shatter'd 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 bloud again But to be Actor in that happy Scene Yet thus I will 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 onely to wear A Soul onely to own a Life be here Thought crime enough to lose 't no time nor place Be Sanctuary from your outrages Spare not in Churches kneeling Priests at pray'r Though interceding for you slay ev'n there Spare not young Infants smiling at the brest Who from relenting Fools their mercy wrest Rip teeming Wombs tear out the hated Brood From thence drown 'em in their Mothers bloud Pity not Virgins nor their tender cries Though prostrate at your feet with melting eyes All drown'd in tears strike home as 't were in lust And force their begging hands to guide the thrust Ravish at th' Altar kill when you have done Make them your Rapes the Victims to attone Nor let gray hoary hairs protection give To Age just crawling on the verge of Life Snatch from its leaning hands the weak support And with it knock't into the grave with sport Brain the poor Cripple with his Crutch then cry You 've kindly 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 'em not dare To mutter for their Souls a gasping pray'r But in the utt'rance choak't and stab it there 'T were witty handsom malice could you do 't To make 'em die and make 'em damn'd to boot Make Children by one fate with Parents die Kill ev'n revenge in next Posterity So you 'll be pester'd with no Orphans cries No childless Mothers curse your memories Make Death and Desolation swim in bloud Throughout the Land with nought to stop the floud But slaughter'd Carcasses till the whole Isle Become one tomb become one funeral pile Till such vast numbers swell the countless summ 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 neither Saxon rage could here inflict Nor Danes more savage nor the barbarous Pict What Spain nor Eighty eight could ere devise With all its fleet and fraught of cruelties What ne're Medina wish'd much less could dare And bloudier Alva would with trembling hear What may strike out dire Prodigies of old And make their mild and gentler acts untold What Heav'ns Judgments nor the angry Stars Forein Invasions nor Domestick 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 idle talk delay Your hands and while they should be acting stay Farewell If I may waste a pray'r for your success Hell be your aid and your high projects bless May that vile Wretch if any here there be That meanly shrinks from brave Iniquity If any here feel pity or remorse May he feel all I 've bid you act and worse May he by rage of Foes unpitied fall And they tread out his hated Soul to Hell May's Name and Carcase rot expos'd alike to be The everlasting mark of grinning infamy SATYR II. NAy if our sins are grown so high of late That Heav'n no longer can adjourn our fate May 't please some milder vengeance to devise Plague Fire Sword Dearth or any thing but this Let it rain scalding showres of Brimstone down To burn us as of old the lustful Town Let a new deluge overwhelm agen And drown at once our Land and Lives and Sin Thus gladly we 'll compound all this we 'll pay To have these worst of Ills remov'd away Judgments of other kinds are often sent In mercy onely not for punishment But where these light they shew a Nations fate Is given up and past for reprobate When God his stock of wrath on Egypt spent To make a stubborn Land and King repent Sparing the rest had he this one Plague sent For this alone his People had been quit And Pharaoh circumcis'd a Proselyte Wonder no longer why no cure like these Was known or suffer'd in the primitive days They never sinn'd enough to merit it 'T was therefore what Heavens just pow'r thought fit To scourge this later and more sinful age With all the dregs and squeesings of his rage Too dearly is proud Spain with England quit For all her loss sustain'd in Eighty eight For all the Ills our warlike Virgin wrought Or Drake or Rawleigh her great Scourges brought Amply was she reveng'd in that one birth When Hell for her the Biscain Plague brought forth Great Counter-plague in which unhappy we Pay back her sufferings with full usury Than whom alone none ever was design'd T' entail a wider curse on Human kind But he who first begot us and first sinn'd Happy the World had been and happy Thou Less damn'd at least and less accurst than now If early with less guilt in War th'hadst dy'd And from ensuing mischiefs Mankind freed Or when thou view'dst the Holy Land and Tomb Th'hadst suffer'd there thy brother Traytors doom Curst be the womb that with the Firebrand teem'd Which ever since has the whole Globe inflam'd More curst that ill-aim'd Shot that basely mist That maim'd a limb but spar'd thy hated brest And made th' at once a Cripple and a Priest But why this wish The Church if so might lack Champions Good works and Saints for the Almanack These are the Ianizaries of the Cause The Life Guard of the Roman Sultan chose To break the force of Huguenots and Foes The Churches Hawkers in Divinity Who ' stead of Lace and Ribbons Doctrine cry Romes Strowlers who survey each Continent Its trinkets and commodities to vent Export the Gospel like mere ware for sale And truck'd for Indigo and Cutchineal As the known Factors here the Brethren once Swopt Christ about for Bodkins Rings and Spoons And shall these great Apostles be contemn'd And thus by scoffing Hereticks defam'd They by whose means both Indies now enjoy The two choice blessings Pox and Popery Which buried else in ignorance had been Nor known the worth of Beads and Bellarmine It pitied holy Mother Church to see A world so drown'd in gross Idolatry It griev'd to see such goodly Nations hold Bad Errors and unpardonable Gold Strange what a godly zeal can Coyn infuse What charity Pieces of Eight produce So you were chose the fittest to reclaim The Pagan World and give 't a Christian Name And great was the success whole Myriads stood At Font and were baptiz'd in their own bloud Millions of Souls were hurl'd from hence to burn Before their time be damn'd before their turn Yet these were in compassion sent to Hell The rest reserv'd in spite and worse to feel Compell'd instead of Fiends to worship you The more inhuman Devils of the two Rare way and method of conversion this To make your Votaries your Sacrifice If to destroy be Reformation thought A Plague as well might the good work have wrought Now see we why your Founder weary grown Would lay his former Trade of Killing down He found 't was dull he found a Gown would be A fitter case and badge of cruelty Each snivelling Hero Seas of Bloud can spil When wrongs provoke and Honour bids him kill Each tiny Bully Lives can freely bleed When prest by Wine or Punk to knock o' th' head Give me your through-pac'd Rogue who scorns to be Prompted by poor Revenge or Injury But does it of true inbred cruelty Your cool and sober Murderer who prays And stabs at the same time who one hand has Stretch'd up to Heav'n t'other to make the Pass So the late Saints of blessed memory Cut throats in godly pure sincerity So they with lifted hands and eyes devout Said Grace and carv'd a slaughter'd Monarch out When the first Traitor Cain too good to be Thought Patron of this black Fraternity His bloudy Tragedy of old design'd One death alone quench'd his revengful mind Content with but a quarter of Mankind Had he been Iesuit had he but