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
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 BY hell 't was bravely done what less then this What Sacrifice of meaner worth and price Could we have offer'd up for our success So fare all they who dare provoke our hate Who by like ways presume to tempt their fate Fare each like this bold medling fool and be As well cur'd as well dispatch'd as he Would he were here yet warm that we might drain His reeking gore and drink up every vein That were a glorious Sanction much like thine Great Roman made upon a like design Like thine we scorn so mean a Sacrament To seal and consecrate our high intent We scorn base blood should our great league cement Thou didst it with a Slave but we think good To bind our Treason with a bleeding God Would it were His why should I fear to name Or you to hear 't at which we nobly aim Lives yet that hated enemy of our cause Lives he our mighty projects to oppose Can his weak innocence and heavens care Be thought security from what we dare Are ye then Iesuits are you so for nought In all the Catholique depths of Treason taught In Orthodox and solid poysoning read And each profounder Art of killing bred And can you fail or bungle in your trade Shall one poor life your cowardise upbraid Tame dastard slaves who your profession shame And fix disgrace on your great Founders name Think what late Sâ—â—tries and ignoble crew Not worthy to be rank'd in sin with you Inspir'd with lofty wickedness durst do How from his Throne they hurl'd a Monarch down And bravely eas'd him of his life and Crown They scorn'd in Covert their bold Art to hide In open face of Heaven the work they did And dar'd its vengeance and its powers defy'd This is his Son and mortal too like Him Durst you usurp the glory of the crime And dare ye not I know you 〈◊〉 to be By such as they outdone in villanyâ— Your proper province true you urgâ— thâ—n on Were Engins in the â—act but they alone Share all the Open credit and Renown But hold I wrong our Church cause which need No foreign Instance nor what Others did Think on that matchless Assassin whose name We with just pride can make our happy claim He who at killing of an Emperour To give 〈◊〉 poyson stronger force and power Mixt a Gâ—â— with 't and made it work more sure Blest meâ—ory which shall through age to come Stand sâ—â—red in the lists of Hell and Rome Let ouâ— great Clement and Ravillia'cs name Your â—â—irits to like height of sin inflame Those mighty souls who each durst bravely dye To hâ—ve a Royal Ghost their company Herâ—â—â—ck Art and worth their tortures well Wâ—â—â— worth the suffering of a double-hell Thâ—t they felt here and that below they fell Aâ—d if these cannot move you as you shou'd 〈◊〉 me and my example fire your blood â—â—ink what I durst attempt a glorious deed Which durst the fates have suffer'd to succeed â—ad Rivall'd hells most proud exploit and boast â—v'n that which would the King of fates depos'd Curst be that day and nere in time enrold And curst the star whose spightfull influence rul'd The luckless minute which my project spoild What mean't that power which of it self afraid My glory with my brave design betray'd Was 't that he fear'd lest I who strook so high In guilt should next blow up his Realm and sky Or if that fail'd at least I would have durst And missing had got off with Fame at worst Had you but half my daringness in sin Your work had never thus unfinish'd been Had I been Man and the great Act to do I 'ad dy'd by this and been what I am Now Or what his Father is I would leap hell â—o reach his life though in the midst I fell And deeper then before Let rabble souls of narrow aim and reach Stoop their vile necks and dull Obedience preach â—et them with slavish awe disdain'd by me Adore the purple Rag of Majesty And think 't a sacred Relick of the sky Well may such fools be subject to controul â—o every scepter'd wretch that dares but rule Unlike the soul with which proud I was born Who could that sneaking thing a Monarch scorn â—purn off a Crown and set my foot in sport Upon the head that wore it trod in dirt But say what i' st that binds your hands does fear â—rom such a glorious action you deter Or i' st Religion but you sure disclaim That frivolous pretence that empty Name Meer bugbear word devis'd by us to scare The senceless rout to slavishness and fear Nere known to awe the brave and those that dare â—uch weak and feeble things may serve for checks To reign and curb base mettl'd Hereticks Dull creatures whose nice bogling consciences Startle or strain at such like crimes as these Such whom fond inbred honesty befools Or their old musty peice the Bible Gulls That hated book the Bullwark of our foes Whereby they still uphold their tott'ring cause Let no such toys mislead you from the Road Of glory nor infect your souls with good Let never bold incroaching virtue dare With her grim holy face to enter there No not in very dream have only will Like fiends and me to Act and covet Ill. Let true substantial wickedness take place Usurp and reign let it the very trace If any yet be left of good deface If ever qualms of inward cowardice The thing which some dull sots call Conscience rise Make them in streams of blood and slaughter drown Or with new weights of guilt still press them down Faith shame Religion Honour Loyalty Nature it self what ever checks there be To loose and uncontroul'd Impiety Be all extinct in you own no remorse But that you 've balk'd a sin have been no worse Or too much pity shew'd Be diligent in mischiefs trade be each Performing as a devil nor stick to reach At crimes most dangerous where bold despair And heedless blind Revenge would never dare To look March you without a blush or fear Enflam'd by all the hazards that oppose And firm as burning Martyrs to our cause Then you 're true Jesuites then you 're fit to be Disciples of great Loyola and me Worthy to undertake worthy a plot Like this and fit to scourge an Hugenot Plagues on that name may swift confusion seize And utterly blot out that cursed Race Thrice damn'd be your Apostate Monk from whom Sprung first these Enemies of Vs and Rome Whose poysonous filth dropt from ingendring brain By monstrous birth did the vile Insects spawn Which now infect each Countrey and defile With their o'respreading swarms this goodly Isle Once it was ours and subject to our yoke Till a late reigning witch the Enchantment broke It shall again 't is Hell and I decree If