Selected quad for the lemma: england_n
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A64180
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Mad fashions, od fashions, all out fashions, or, The emblems of these distracted times by John Taylor.
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Taylor, John, 1580-1653.
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1642
(1642)
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Wing T478; ESTC R16195
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3,161
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10
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MAD FASHIONs OD FASHIONS All out of Fashions OR The Emblems of these Distracted times By Iohn Taylor LONDON Printed by Iohn Hammond for Thomas Banks 1642. Mad fashions od fashions all out of fashions OR The Emblems of these distracted times THe Picture that is Printed in the front Is like this Kingdome if you look upon 't For if you well doe note it as it is It is a Transform'd Metamorphasis This Monstrous Picture plainely doth declare This land quite out of order out of square His Breeches on his shoulders doe appeare His doublet on his lower parts doth weare His Boots and Spurs upon his Armes and Hands His Gloves upon his feet whereon he stands The Church or'e turnd a lamentable show The Candlestick above the light below The Cony hunts the Dogge the Rat the Cat The Horse doth whip the Cart I pray marke that The Wheelbarrow doth drive the man oh Base And Eeles and Gudgeons flie a mighty pace And sure this is a Monster of strange fashion That doth surpasse all Ovids Transformation And this is Englands case this very day All things are turn'd the Cleane contrary way For Now when as a Royall Parliament With King and Peers and Commons whole consent Have almost sate two yeeres with paines and Cares And Charge to free us from our Griefes and feares For when many a worthy Lord and Knight And good Esquire for King and Countreys Right Have spent so much time with Great Toyle and Heede All Englands Vicious garden how to weed So like a Wildernesse 't was overrun That though much hath been done All is not done The Devill doth perswade entice and lurke And force bad men to set good men aworke That whilst the Worthies strive to right our wrongs And give to each man what to him belongs Whil'st they take paines to settle all things heere And Irish Devill doth madly domineere From Hells black Pit begirt with Romish Armes Thousâ—nds of Locusts are in Troopes and Swarmes More Barbarous then the Heathen worse then Iewes No Turke or Tartars would such Tortures use Sure that Religion can no wayes be good That so inhumanly delights in Blood Nor doth that doctrine from the Scriptures spring That Subiects should Rebell against their King Nay further murder ravish spoile deflowre Burne and lay waste depopulate devoure Not sparing Infants at the Breast or wombe To die where first they liu'd their Birth their Tombe 'T is said no Serpent Adder Snake or Toade Can live in Ireland or hath there aboade 'T is strange that shee those Vipers doth not Kill That Guawes her Bowells and her blood doth spill Can Irish Earth Kill all things vennemous And can shee nurse such Vermin Mischievous Her owne sonnes Native worse then Strangers Borne They have their Mothers Entrailes rent and torne Yet still her Indulgencie harbours those And feeeds those Rebells that doe breed her woes God in thy Mercy give her strength and Ayde And courage make her foes and ours dismay'd Thou Lord of Hosts thine owne cause take in hand Thy foes Thine Antichristian foes withstand Defend thy truth and all our Armies guide Our enemies to scatter and devide Thus leaving Ireland with my hearty prayers To Brittaine back againe my Muse repaires Where I perceive a Metamorphosis Is most preposterous as the Picture is The world 's turn'd upside downe from bad to worse Quite out of frame The cart before the Horse The Feâ—t-maker and sawcie stable Groome Willdâ—re to Pearch into the Preachers Roome Each Ignorant doe of the Spirit Boast And prating fooles brag of the holy-Ghost When Ignoramus will his Teacher Teach And Sow-gelders and Coblers dare to preach This shewes mens witts are monstrously disguis'd Or that our Countrey is Antipodis'd When holy Common Prayer is by the Rable Accounted Porredge and unfruitfull Babble When our Beliefe is not so much as sed When as the Ten Commandments are not read When as the Lords Prayer is almost neglected When as all decencie is quite reiected When to avoid a Romish Papists name A man must be unmannerly past shame When he that doth shew Reverence doth offend And he seems best that will not bow or bend When he that into Gods House doth not come As to a Stable or a Tipling Roome Is counted for a Popish favorite And branded so despis'd and scorn'd with spite When He that of his waves doth conscience make And in his heart doth world flesh feind forsake Loves God with all his soule adores no pelfe And loves his Neighbour as hee loves himselfe This man is Rare to finde yet this Rare man Shall have the Hatefull name of Puritan When execrations pierce the firmament And oathes doe batter 'gainst Heavens Battlement When Imprecations and damb'd Blasphemies In sundry cursed volleys scale the Skies When men more Bruitish then the Horse or Mule Who know not to obey presume to Rule Thus Church and Common-wealth and men all are Much like the Picture out of frame or square And if 't were possible our fathers old Should live againe and tread upon this mould And see all things confused overthrowne They would not know this Countrey for their owne For England hath no likelyhood or show Of what it was but seventy yeeres agoe Religion manners life and shapes of men Are much unlike the people that were then Nay Englands face and language is estrang'd That all is Metamorphis'd chop'd and chang'd For like as on the Poles the VVorld is whorl'd So is this Land the Bedlam of the VVorld That I amazed and amated am To see Great Brittaine turn'd to Amsterdam Mens braines and witts two simples beat together From thence mix'd and compounded are sent hither For Amsterstam is landed as I heare At Rye or Hastings or at Dover Peere At Harwich Ipswich Sandwich or at Weymouth At Portsmouth Dartmouth Exmouth Plimouth Farmouth At Yarmouth and at all the Ports to Tinmouth And westward unto Bristow and to Monmouth From all these Mouthes and more mad sects are sent VVho have Religion all in pieces Rent One would have this Another would have that And most of them would have they know not what God give us peace and ease us of our paine And send those sects from whence they came againe The Papist and the Schismatique both grieves The Church for shee 's like Christ Between two Thieves I took the Protestation twice of Late VVhere I protested not to Innovate ' Tavoide all Popish Rites and to expresse Obedience to what Englands Church professe My Loyalty unto my King is bent VVith duty to the Peers and Parliament VVith Prayers and my best service for them all That on them may Heavens chiefest blessings fall That with one heart as one man with one minde For Gods great glory they may be combinde And never vary but goe boldly on To end the good worke which they have begun This is the Sum which ne'er shall be forsooke Of what I in the Protestation tooke But for all this I may be mannerly In Gods House and be free from Papistrie I hope I may put off my hat and be Allow'd to Kneel and Pray and Bow my Knee VVhen as divine Command bids onely then I 'le Bow to God and not to Saints or Men And from those dueties I will never vary Till death or Order doe command contrary Th' Almighties Name be ever prays'd and blest That Romish superstition is supprest VVee have no Abbyes Abbots Friars or Monks Nor have we Nuns or Stewes allow'd for Punks VVee have no Masses or no Mass-Priests heere But some are hang'd and some are fled for feare All those that are so bold to stay behind I wish they may like entertainment finde Beades Bables Relliques Tapers Lamps or Lights Wee have no superstitious Romish Rites Wee seek our Pardons from our Heavenly Hope And not by works or favour from the Pope To Saints we make no prayer or Intercession And unto God alone wee make Confession Wee hold no Reall Presence in the Bread And wee doe know King Charles our supreame head Beneath God who hath plac'd him in his Throne For other Supreame wee acknowledge none No Purgatory Image Wood or Stone No Stock or carved Block wee trust upon Nor is our Church discretion heere so little As to Baptize with Cream with salt and Spittle VVee have as many Sacraments as Heaven Ordain'd which are but two and Rome hath seven VVee doe not Christen Bells and give them Names Of Simon Peter Andrew Iohn and Iames VVee use no Pilgrimage or Holy-water Nor in an unknowne tongue our Prayers scatter All these and many more in Rome are us'd VVhich are by us reiected and refus'd And yet too many faults alas remaines VVhich are the Churches and the Kingdomes staines The Church Triumphant is not cleere from spots The Poore Church Millitant hath still some blots Heer 's all unperfect somthing 's still amisse And nothing's blest but in Eternall Blisse Meane time till wee amend and leave our crimes The Picture is the Embâ—em of the Times FINIS