Selected quad for the lemma: head_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A57222
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Poems sacred and satyricale
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Richards, Nathanael, ca. 1600-1652.
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1641
(1641)
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Wing R1372; ESTC R34569
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44,591
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198
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to all the world how they dissemble Pray with the Lip not heart wrest sacred Text To serve their owne ends first and then Gods next Provide to live in pestilent Times beginne Take greater care to fly from death then sinne Ther 's nothing in our Flesh but wickednesse 〈◊〉 to live and obscene wantonnesse O vaine desire of mortalls can there be In flight or Physick crue ' gainst heav'ns decree No no ther 's no escape no way to this Mans good life onely meets with mercies kisse We forget now that dreadfull dismall chance The terrible Arrow of Gods vengeance When death buried farre more then the earth could swallow And no man to the Grave his friend durst follow O why should Mortalls wish long life to live What comfort what true joy do's this live give Ther 's nothing not one thought that do's us good But it is strangl'd straight by flesh and blood Holy Saint Paul finding the fleshrebell Desir'd to be dissolv'd proud flesh to quell And Sacred Symeon sung ' gainst sinnes increase Lord let thy servant now depart in peace Shall such soule sweenting preparations be Forgotten quite O blind securitie What is it we behold in this vaine life But daily dangers soule-bewitching strife The Flesh is full of dagger never quiet 'Mong fullfed dishes and Luxurious diet When my Soule-Erring Eyes staring behold A dang'rous strumpet flame in glittering gold And murd'ring beauty sparkling from her Eye Burning temptation then me thinkes I spie My most apparent mischiefe plainely see How I ne'r strive to please my God as shee Strives to please men such is the flaming pride Of the vaine flesh it hurts on ev'ry side Ther 's nothing constant in us if to day Vertue we love to morrow Vice obey What a notorious Coxcombe unto sinne Lust makes of Man slave to a whores soft skinne What 's a delicious Harlot but a cheater A poyson'd Marmalad Box that rots the earer A Harlot Man most fitly may compare To Quicksilver whose Mertall like asnare When er'e it meets with gold does evermore Mlingle it selfe so commonly a whore 'T is not the Man but money she respects And mingling with the one she both infects Drinks deepe in Taverns Swaggers Sweares and raves Gets gold from fooles to spend it upon knaves The cheife praise of a good wise do's not lie In outward shew but inward pietie If Vertue rules her bloud she merits love If not I will assure thee shee will prove Like a deceitfull glasse where man may see Hee 's meerly cheated in her O miserie Man makes lewd women proud with looking at And wondrous wanton to beleeve that The onely cure Lust's raging flames to quench Is Aqua Lachrymarum that will stench The wounds proud women so delight to make On the poore soule of Man make him to quake Afear'd to stand on that false rocke of Ice Idlenesse feeder of foule carnall Vice Nurse of blacke thoughts south-Fogg which rots the minde Leapours the soule and is the Northerne winde The cause of all sinnes stormes that dang'rous flood Lusts surging Ocean swelling in Mans blood O Devill desire of Lust me me forsake I charge thee hence by him that made hell quake By that Almighty One in sacred Trine All holy spells and Charmes Magick Divine By that sweet Excellent Sacred Puritie Sister of Angells Virgin Chastity Fly from me all base thoughts be just mine eyes And be your selves hate wantons Witcheries Impendet periculum omnibus THE IESVITE NOt like that Masse-Priest he whose mouth is cram'd With words that speake all Protestants are damn'd Him nor his slocke I dare not censure so Nor meane to write more then I justly know To be most true in which knowne Path I finde Counterfeit Catholiques so grossely blinde They dare outface Heav'ns Truth forg'd lies maintaine To Cloake the cunning Iesuites subtile Braine He that do's Theefe-like waite for vertues fall Lives in perpetuall watch to blow up all The President recorded stands for ever In this Realmes safety which hell's Plot can never Wipe from Rememb'rance never shall the Evill Of that close Secretary to the Devill That Iesuite Garnet live forgot while I Have Pen or Hand to write his Tragedy That Myne of Murther Mischiefes Master-vice Lodg'd in the Politicque skull of Avarice His desp'rate Soule was such he durst to swimme A Sea of Vice be rackt in ev'ry limme All tortures suffer rather then reveale The Treason his Religion bids conceale Witnesse thou Ghost of Garnet this is true He that han'gd drawne and quarter'd had his due To him was knowne the powder pitchie Treason Never to be forgot he knew the season When where and how that suddaine bloudie blow Black Hell-bread Thunder flaming overthrow Should have beene given knew the Times short space When no soule should have time to pray for Grace Or cry God helpe The Treason was so foule The Traitors would have damn'd both body and Soule If in their power and ev'ry soule i' th Ayre Tost up sent unprepar'd of heav'nly prayer With all their sinnes O horrid horrid Act All this the Iesuite knew conceal'd the fact And rather then disclose least warning give King Prince and Nobles not a soule should liue Here was a Villaine yet I 've knowne in Spayne The Traitors death so moan'd such Credit gaine Though here he dyde for Treasons just complaint There Monster Iesuites make a Martyr'd Saint Mischievous Masse-Priests to his meriting fame At the high Altar in a spacious frame Advance to him as to a Saint most blest His Body-mangled Picture thus exprest Garnets Picture Bare Head white Beard Lookes sober in his Gowne Him over head Angels with Laurell Crowne About his Neck a long large Haltertide Hangs as befitting such downe the Left side His Belly ript bloud seeming open straw Holding in his righ hand his pictur'd draw Beneath his right side flames a Heart in fire Bove his left Limmes quarter'd Treasons hire Presented on a Tower which Pictur'd storie Straw-fainted set up to 'th Arch-Traitors Glory Invites each eye yea all the world to see Iesuites Protectors of all Villany Poys'ning of Princes held as trifling things With them 't is meritorious to kill Kings Can this Religion be they thinke it pure But man ne'r knew Religion more impure Their Church is but their Cloake bad deeds to further The only sanctuary for bloud and murther Plots Practizes hellish abomination Pardons for Treason holy approbation Of that ill-Sainted wretch his cursed fault That Father to Faux the Divill i' th vault Such Iudas-Iesuites ever Traitors prove To King and Prince disloyall in their love Yet outward fawning seeme on bended knee Low as the earth O true hypocrisie Vnder the mild aspect of Reverence In duty and submisse obedience With Oylie Eloquence best pleasing Phrase Catching Orations full of flatt'ring praise When in the heart abides no spot of good All treach'rous thoughts all thirsting after bloud The fall of Princes changes alteration The Protestants Religion 's desolation Such is