Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A07673
|
A counter-buff to Lysimachus Nicanor: calling himself a Jesuite. By Philopatris
|
Mure, William, Sir, 1594-1657.
|
1640
(1640)
|
STC 18062; ESTC S112841
|
8,111
|
18
|
A COVNTER-BVFF TO Lysimachus Nicanor Calling himself a Jesuite By PHILOPATRIS Nescio qua natale solum dulcedine cunctos Ducit immemores non sinit esse sui Printed Anno Domini 1640. A COVNTER-BVFF TO Lysimachus Nicanor A pretended Iesuite I Cannot now but give my grief a tongue Since innocence and vertue suffer wrong Since calumnie and fals-hood strive to wound Our Mothers breast and purpose to confound That Covenant the Popish hyrelings foyle Heavens herauld sent to blesse North-Britains soyle A band of truth and power the Prelats baine Which with our dearest bloud we will maintaine As sworne Gods purer worship to defend Our King to serve our straying faults to mend Illustrius Trajan though a pagane prince After much bloud of Christians did dispence With the remainder of that Heaven-blest band Who through a Red sea fraungh'd their long'd-for land Whiles by proconsull Plinie he was inform'd That Christians in their lives were more reform'd Nor then was vented forth by false report And that in sober way they did resort To privat meetings whereunto their God They sweetly sang some divine hymne or ode Committing nothing worthie Caesars wrath Whence all inditements sentences of death Were straight repeal'd and Christians were set free Dispenc'd to brook peace truth and libertie The like our hope and trust assures us shall Unto our native homebred Caesar fall Whiles by some worthie Plin it shall be told him That in the armes of love we still infold him That the pure incense of our sacred prayers Maugre the spite and pryde of all gainsayers Is daily for his safety powred forth And since no earthly thing is of more worth Nor life and fortunes we shall both imploy For thryce-blest Charles the center of our joy So that we brook in full integritie With peace and truth our ancient libertie Then false Lysimachus thou runnigate That seems to pry into the soule of state That personates a subtile Jesuite And yet art known a homebred parasite That hath belcht forth a rapsodie of lies And 'gainst thy Countrey false coyn'd calumnies Thou by our Statutes hast deserv'd to die An ignominious death for such a lie As may breed discord 'twixt the King and State Is death here many laws I may repeat And practicks too but these are all so clear As need no glossing Onely I will here Touch one for all A Scot of ancient race A schollar too as thou art liv'd a space In Englands Court and for some privat hate A pasquill did against his Countrey wreat As thou hast done in fouler sort more full Of vil'd aspersions from thy phrantick skull Well then King Iames of lasting memorie Who could not brook that any calumnie Should be asperst upon his native land After some tryall there he gave command The Lybeller should home go and sustaine Of doome unpartiall laws th' unpitied paine And here being try'd judg'd and adjudg'd they fand That he should losse his head and faultie hand Which straight was done in publick view and so I thinke the matter with thy self will go For we do sure expect our Soveraigne Will send thee home that here thou may'st sustaine Due punishment But since that thy offence Is worse nor his the judges may dispence With headings blow and make thee climbe the top Of some curst tree come down into a rope Nor shall this one jest more in silence rote Which carelesse I had now almost forgot Of a Polonian Swaine more curious Nor wise or learn'd call'd Stercovius Hither he came clade all in antique sort Where seen in streets the subject of a sport He soone became to childish gazers who With skriechs and clamours hiss him to and fro Till forc'd he was with shame and speed to pack him And to his feet and loathsome cabin take him Where in a furious and chollerick mood He nothing breath'd but fire revenge and bloud And fondly swore our nations overthrow He should adventure with a suddain blow Of his both pregnant and pernicious pen Like to a fierce and fearfull powder traine Thus fraught with furie home to Pole he goes To wreak his splen on his imagin'd foes And there his pen he loos'd and with more spite Nor hell had taught him thoughts he did indite A legend of reproaches stuf't with lies Was bold to print and vent those calumnies Against the Scots their manners and their fame Of purpose to obscure their splendide name In all that Esterne clyme and tract of ground Where squadrons of our Nation did abound Whence some choise men of ours did take in hand To supplicat the Princes of that land Their wrong for to redresse so with great paine Great search and length of time their point they gaine For all vaste Teutons states the Spruch the Dan Dispatch and arme with power some trustie man Stercovius to pursue in any ground Take and arraigne him where he may be found Which is with great turmoile and travell done Yet things well acted are performed soone For this slie fox hunted from hole to hole At length is catch't and unresolv'd did thole His head divorce which from his body fell Low to the ground his soule I cannot tell Which way it went for most unworthie I That should into th' Eternals secrets pry Now since by law of Nations forraigne Princes Have granted patents throughout their Provinces A slanderer thus to take and apprehend Who did a stranger Nation vilipend What shall our Soveraigne do when it be's known How falsely thou hast lyed against thine own But now thy piece I must anatomize And try with Linxes sight what therein lyes First for the bulk though spacious to the eye It 's pesterd with a full hydropisie And from a liver rotten drencht and spent Poyson for bloud throughout the veines are sent The frontespiece unmaskes an hypocrite While thou strives to play the Jesuite Whence in egregious sort thou lies and fails In every point of thy false paralels Daring compare our true reformed land Unto the bloud-hound hell-inspired band Of those who still are hatching dreadfull things And hunt the precious lives of sacred Kings Next with what impudent and flintie face Thou makes the bloudy league a leading cace To our blest Covenant the powerfull mean God and our Kings true service to maintain For of that league was not a monster made A French-like body with a Spanish head Which broach'd that traiterous blot by hels devise To shake and sack the glorious flowre de Lice They traitours were times stories sure relate To God and man to Prince and to the state We paternes here of love of truth of zeal Oppos'd right in a contrare paralell Have vow'd and sworne our lives and goods to spend Gods truth our Prince and countrey to defend So are thy words like flowres but sap or roote Which onely to repeat is to confute Again thou say'st we sympathize with thee And strive t' ecclypse the rayes of Majestie Pressing what 's proper unto God