Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A34271
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A Congratulation of the Protestant-joyner to Anthony, King of Poland upon his arrival in the lower world
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1683
(1683)
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Wing C5814; ESTC R29678
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2,509
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6
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A Congratulation OF THE Protestant-Joyner TO Anthony King of Poland Upon his Arrival in the Lower World Joyner WElcom my Lord unto these Stygian Plains Welcom unto a Land where Discord reigns This is a Land Your Lordship will approve From whence these States hope you will ne'r remove Welcom to These as to the States above From Them I 'm come and this bless'd News I bring Discord is dead and they have chose You KING Pride Envy Malice Hell would soon decay Should Peace appear and Discord fade away Anth. Thanks Friend whoe'r thou art for this bless'd News The Name of King I hate yet can't refuse I wish some other Name they would confer Joyn. What think You then my Lord of Emperour Anth. Spoke like a Roman Soul who though they hate The Name of Kings yet Emperours create Joyn. Or if these please not what if You should be Dubb'd of Mankind Plenipotentiary Anth. Spoke like a Non-con 's Soul that very Name Does all my Vitals heat and sets my Soul on flame Let me embrace and hug thee in my Arms That Hogen-mogen word is full of Charms There 's Beauty in 't that leads my Soul away And I must follow though I go astray Joyn. What means my Lord by that recanting Speech To go astray implies You 've made some breach Anth. The observation of it does imply You have been bold i' th' world as well as I. Joyn. 'T is true my Lord I aim'd at mighty Things To Subvert Kingdoms and to Murder Kings To teach the Nation to be Picts once more And die their Skins with their own crimson Gore That is the truest stain that ne'r will out Witness His Father murder'd by the Rout. Anth. That 's the dead-bone which touching bleeds a-new And that 's the cause I did the Son pursue Like Cataline our Mischiefs are not sure But by effecting greater to secure Joyn. But since i' th' world Your Taper does not shine Like Damocles tho Presbyterians dine The Sword of Justice trembles o'r their head And hangs secur'd but by one single Thread There needs no Atrapos to cut the String One blast of Treason more against their KING Does all the Vengeance on their own heads bring Anth. You seem a Convert now Prithee declare What is your Name From whence and what you were Joyn. My Lord survey this Face and You will find With a small recollecting of Your mind What my Profession was and what 's my Name By whom employ'd from whence and what I am Anth. I seriously observe you but can't tell You are so alter'd since you came to Hell But guess you are a Man of no great Fame Nor ever had until of late a Name A Name I mean that does deserve Renown For Murder or for striking at the Crown Joyn. Small Shrubs my Lord may tall as Cedars grow What was John Leyden and Massanello What was Wat Tyler and Jack Straw of late And our prodigious Oliver's great Fate That made all Europe shake To such a height I might have rose but Fortune ow'd a spight And struck it home just in the nick of Time And for a Throne I did a Gallows clime My Lord you sure may know me now Anth. I do Your Name is Colledge and I pity you But prithee tell me for I fain would know In all my journey hither to and fro I could not spy one glimmering light of Heav'n For all was dark but what from hence was giv'n Only some Link-boys Skeletons did ply I' th' way with Lights most dreadful to the eye What is the reason For I 've heard men tell Strange Stories and that viewing Heav'n is Hell And not enjoy 't Prithee what shall I do I 'd give a world that happy place to view Joyn. The reason is You did in Holland die A place that to the Centre lies so nigh That you 're no sooner dead but you are here It is a shorter cut by half a year It lies so low and sunk so deep i' th' Sea It wants the use o' th' Primum Mobile Had you in England staid and dy'd as I You might have clipt the Air and reach'd the Skie Anth. But since I 'm forc'd into this dark abode Describe the pleasures of that blessed Road I fancy that some pleasure will ensue To hear that told which I shall never view Joyn. No sooner was my Soul discharg'd of Clay But up it sprang and pinion'd quick its way I pass'd the Orbs with wonder and delight And wa'n't took notice of in all my slight At last on Heav'ns Battlements I stay'd And all that bright Empire I round survey'd Observ'd how th' Primum Mobile did fly Ten thousand times more swifter than the Eye The vast Expance did all with Glory shine And ev'ry thing I saw was all Divine A Gate of Pearl did on my right hand stand And Peter as I guess by th' Keys in 's hand Who ope'd the door and all pure Souls receiv'd I thought to enter too but was deceiv'd Anth. What happiness to those blest Souls was giv'n who 'd plague their King and Countrey to lose Heav'n Joyn. He took me by the hand and turn'd me round Bid me avaunt for that was holy Ground Yonder 's your Road down there the Angels fell And so must you At which I struck at Hell For in a moment so quick was my Fate My Head was dash'd against Hells Iron-gate Which then was shut A wonder to the Crowd Open the door I boldly yaul'd aloud A Thund'ring Voice I heard From whence From who D' ye come I strait reply'd I came from Yon I am a Joyner by my Trade and come To sit and Wainscot up his Lordship's Room At which the Gates slew ope I entred in Swept clean the Room of all things there but Sin She must remain and your Companion be For ever and to vast Eternity Anth. I 'm mad I rave The Vulture gnaws my Breast I wou'd repose but 't is in vain to rest No rest is here My scorching Entrails burn And all my Guts to horrid Snakes do turn Oh cursed Fate that I should die so soon When all my Treasons scarce did reach their Noon Oh! had I but a little longer stood I would have made the Nation flow with Bloud But I am dead yet still I must Rebel And add more Flames unto the Flames of Hell I 'll make grim Pluto tremble in his Throne And all the Subterranean Empire groan I 'll make 'em drink again the bitter Cup And undermine their Hell and blow 'em up With that he foam'd at mouth hung out his Tongue At which a horrid ugly Scorpion hung His Eyes so hot did glow made Fiends admire And burnt so fierce as Hell it self cry'd Fire But a shagg'd Fiend appear'd and in a trice Hurl'd his hot Soul into a Hell of Ice Where may each Traytor that their KINGS controul Find this Estate entail'd upon their Soul FINIS LONDON Printed for N. Thompson Anno Dom. 1683.