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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A52959 A new poem on the dreadful death of the Earl of Essex, who cut his own throat in the Tower by the Embroyan-fancy of anti-Jack Presbyter. Embroyan-fancy of anti-Jack Presbyter. 1683 (1683) Wing N713; ESTC R41054 1,149 1

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A NEW POEM ON THE DREADFUL DEATH OF THE EARL of ESSEX WHO Cut his own Throat in the TOWER By the Emhroyan-Fancy of Anti-Jack Presbyter COme with a nimble thrust of Rapier'd wit My Muse now Stab all Traitors point at hit The Throat of a Self-murtherer whose fall Doth manifest his Crimson Guilt to all Led by the Halter to the Stygian Lake Many there be he to prevent the Stake Or Hemp or Hatchet took a shorter Cut As if to d●e were but to crack a nut To let his Soul fly from its Prison Body To stept to ask his Chronies How d' ye O pity 't is that such a Branch as he Should thus deserve so sad an Elegy Whose Loyal Father pawn'd his life to those Who were the grand Promoters of the Cause So excellent his Father that t' express His Excellencies seemes to make them less Should I presume to tell his worth I fear My Muse I should subscribe a Murtherer To do 't by halves were fair but 't would be sed 'T were only then but Drawn and Quartered My Lord like Tully's Son Degenerates A Worm within his breast most sadly prates Consc'ence The Kings Atturney stings his heart So mortally that now he dares depart A wounded soul close coupled with the sence of Sin payes home its proper Recompence Could not your active hands had fairly staid The leasure of a Psalm Judas has pray'd But later Crimes cannot admit the Pause They run upon effects more than the Cause Hangman will curse your Feates 't is most severe To be ones proper Executioner Some do affirm that 'twixt such Acts and Death One may repent even at his last breath I fear there is after so foul a Sin Too narow a gap to let Repentance in His Death to th' Saints this Doctrine will afford Impatient of being with the Lord He was good man Dearly-Beloved praise His Policy in shortening his Days But if the Saints thus give 's the slip 't is need We look about us to preserve the Breed Hence sweep the Almanack Lilly make room And Blanks enough for the New Saints to come All in Red Letters As their Faults have been Scarlet so limb their Anniverse of sin Jack Presbyter I tell the Whorson Lyar Encomiums that do amount much higher 'T is height of Valour Fortitude to kill Not our strong foes but a mans self at will Brave active Roman Spirit Purgatory Shall be to thee for a new Inventory Scylla Cbaribdis Python Acheron Medea's Bull the Tails of the Dragon Sea-monsters Serpents Gorgons Centaurs all Medusa's Bugbear-Harpies these I call Mormos and Bugs as our stout Earl did see To fright poor Idiots to Morality Cowards do dread the grim pale face of Death Who foil'd b' it are but squeezed out of Breath Give me an Hector greedy of 's own blood Makes Death to tremble bids Damnation slud Fears not the Gods 't is sin if they be good If bad why'ere in aw of them men stood Death Hell Damnation and if thou not fearest Jack Presbyter dy thou thus if thou darest Or else learn hence not to aspire too nigh The high Perogatives of Majesty Vive le Roy let Rebells meet the end If their Repentance may not it prevent FINIS