Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A86102
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Ad populum: or, A lecture to the people.
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Hausted, Peter, d. 1645.
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1644
(1644)
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Wing H1154; Thomason E49_2; ESTC R10535
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7,503
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19
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a First-Table-Saint who with a Brother Faithfull and call'd made bold to breake the other Could croud her Belly in therefore in scorne To take it up they advis'd each night and morne She should in humble manner soft and faire VValke by the Brooke of Penance and then aire Her selfe 'bout VVeeping-Crosse early and late To fit her Body for the narrow Gate Malitiously they taught that no man given To Fleshly Lusts so dying should see Heaven Uncomfortable Doctrines sure they were Enough to make the Godly to despaire VVho using th'Creature freely as their owne As 't is indeed are often very prone Yet notwithstanding that looke to be Heires Of Heavens joy too for verily all is Theirs Nor will the Preist e're better Manners have So long as Tithes are left to feed the Knave Those Villanous Tithes th' Aegyptians Flesh-pots whence They loath the Manna of Benevolence Alas poore Fooles we know not what we loose When we do part with our Tenth Lamb and Goose Surely ther 's Witchcraft in 't the very Fat And Marrow of our Substance lies in that Being the Top of Numbers and 't is thought Sinews and strength from'th Brawny Hercules From whom that Heathenish custome first did rise For marke and ye shall find the plump Divine Grow fat by th'Tenth we leane by th' other Nine Which Nature teacheth too looke on the Sea And she her Tith in the Tenth Wave doth pay Lustier then all the rest as if she meant To Seale that Number with a Sacrament What'ere the Matter be it is a Gemme Unknowne to us but farre too rich for Them Therefore 't is fit Committees should be sent Unto the godly Dowager of Kent That the beloved Matron might prick on Her learn'd and Antiquated Champion Like a French Chimney-Sweeper t'creepe once more Into Cottons Library through the Back dore And fetch from thence a Dose of Syriack Rust Soot Arahick Ana and of Easterne Dust Enough to cast into the Peoples Eyne They may not see Tithes to be things Divine For while they 'r bold to vent such dareing words That not our Trencher feedes them but the Lords Be confident of this such is their Pride His Businesse shall be done ours laid aside All this is true But pray ye Neighbours say While those light Burthens on your Shoulders lay Had ye not merrier Dayes The King and Law Call'd for some bricke indeed but gave ye straw The Ship-Mony was a weight well yeild it so Since that was damn'd does the World better grow Have ye no Burthens now O happy Men The twentieth Part ye 'ave paid the Fifth and when Your new Task-Masters shal be pleased to call And say ye are Delinquents Farewell All New victories coyn'd to cheat ye every houre Your Purse must bleed so long as they have Power To lye your Taxes to the Garrisons The Pressing and the Slaughter of your Sonnes Secret Benevolences and to these To top up all but Fifty Subsidies Are these no Burthens Let me pitty you Sad Soules for onley that is left ye now Happy ye were and might have so abode Had ye not kneel'd like Camells for your Load They ne're had risen had you kept your State Till ye were wretched they could not be Great Therefore as crafty Glasiers who retaine Night-walking Drunkards in a Pension That when the Danknesse and the Drink command Windowes may fall that their fraile Trade may stand Or seemeing Conjurers who have Theives in Pay So dealt the cunning Men with you For they That their great skill in Surgery might be crown'd And their rare Balsame sought for made the VVound Who like the meaner Stars which hidden lye While the World 's look't on by the Heavens sole eye That they might be ador'd and appeare Bright Resolv'd to turne the Globe and make it Night And good Night Land-lord when will it be Day T is hard to give easier to take away So faint our Hopes be that the sprightly Morne Should ever more make her defir'd Returne That they have hardly left a Cocke to say To our sad Hearts Cheare up it will be Day Or call us to Repentance for the sinne We have so long securely slumber'd in The Deny all of our Lord. At first indeed They Playd with you as with a new-back'd steed Nor did they thinke it fit to fill your Eie With the whole Scene of your large Miserie But drew the Curtaine by Degrees 'T was light Your burthen then to beare a Beardlesse Knight Upon your backs what was it errant Gulls To thinke that Calves in time would not prove Bulls Or that like Milo you should grow in height Of strength and Sinew as your Load in weight Of your New States how could ye thinke so ill When all things else increase they should stand still No no each Man of them is grown so spread Upon the common stock of Fat things fed That the tall Atlas who the Heavens doth beare Has't under Seale not one of them comes There Nine dozen of bread din'd the young Elephant Whom when he had more yeares and volume Scant A Tun would satisfie Change but the Name The Fable's Theyrs And they confesse the same Who are about to geld the Members now What will the Legislative Ladies do For since that neither the new-rais'd Excise The Sequestrations though they high do rise Their Staple of Plunder nor Jewes fetch 't of late To buy the Wickeds circumcis'd Estate Can fill them all they are resolv'd to bate Something in Number as they thrive in weight So have I seene good Husbands when they found Unnecessary Stowage clogg their ground Pull downe out-houses that they might not be Charg'd with Repaires where they no profit see As if they meant to let ye understand That five and twenty now can spoyle the Land All this and more ye cannot chufe but see And will ye still Court your owne Misery Returne returne unto your God and King Obedient hearts and faire Peace-Offerings bring So shall your weary shoulders soone be eas'd For with such Sacrifices Both are pleas'd O be Profane no more no more defile Gods Temples nor tread on the sacred oyle Which doth anoint both King and Priest no more Cast amorous Glances on that painted whore Who sits at West-Minster and ' moungst the rest Hath also this knowne Character of the Beast She in a Temple maketh her abode Lifting herselfe 'bove all that 's called God But set your Love on them who for your good Are met to hazard both Estates and Bloud The Oxford-Parliament for if there be At this time any surely that is she Be no more frighted from all Piety Under a false Notion of Popery That Mask is stale call it no more The Cause Or Christian Liberty to have no Lawes In points of Faith take heed how ye appeale To the New Gospell made by SAY and SEALE Let Davids Psalmes be above Sternholds Meter And Wrayes Occasionalls yeild to Saint Peter Set up Church Discipline anew be wise For since that fell your Daughters Bellies rise Grow Charitable againe let not your Hate And private spleene bring forth a publique Fate So shall ye happy be and soone returne The Nations Envy who are now their scorne Take up at last then learne to understand The Plow and Scepter are not for one Hand FINIS
neither wine nor sport Shall be allow'd yee When yee joy'd to see Gods Altars pulled downe by a Decree Of Omri and his holy Temples made Worse then your Stables sordidly betray'd To Filth our Kingdomes everlasting Stayne The Carved workes torne downe by the Profane When yee beheld the Houses of your King His Ships Townes Castles nay his every Thing Detayn'd from him could yee so foolish be To thinke that your poore Cottages could be free When ye did dayly heare such foule Disgrace Such Blasphemies throwne in th' Almighties Face From out your Pulpits and did thither run Chirping upon your Lecturers while 't was done When 't was your Joy to see Gods Service fall Or worship't slovenly or not at all When ye so chearefully did entertaine Such Lyes and Slanders gainst your Soveraigne Who could bewitch ye into so much Trust To thinke your Honour should not lye i' th Dust Or that your Fourty Markes to which ye were borne In Soccage could redeeme ye from just Scorne When with a Solemne Gladnesse ye did breake The holy Scept and did no difference make 'Twixt the unhallow'd and the hallow'd Land Could you beleive that your owne walls should stand Or that a Bore the Fence being broken through Should not lay wast and spoyle your Vineyards too That Man plants Hedges 'bout himselfe in vaine Who layes in common Sacred and Profane When your learn'd Preists made guilty of all Ills Like Partridges were hunted on the Hills By Painted Chamber and Committee-Men Where were your Teares where was your Sackcloth then It was your Game to see 't each Bush was bear And not a common Mouth but cryed Rett And see the Fruit of it Your Quarry now Like Israells Quailes peeps through your Nostrills too Your Clergies Scorne is prov'd your Plague will Go Go make Bone fires now let every Hill Shine with your Idoll-Flames and every Grove Be fill'd with Sisters Zeale Joy Pigs and Love Let Wisdomes Turke and Pope the rest among For Aye amidst the Bretheren now be sung Arch Deacon Cromwells visitation Hath cleansed all in whose pure voines doth run Th'reforming Bloud and vertues of his Grand Parent that Man of Iron whose tough Hand Arm'd with his Fathers Hammer at one Blow Made many a stately Abbey lie full low Who in one godly March upon his way Help'd by his Surrogate the good Lord Grey Five Crosses kill'd Five bookes of Common Prayers Five Surplices Five Fiddles and Five Beares Bless'd Reformation And the Time will come When Apes as well as Beares shall have their Doome And Badgers Furre grow Cheap Deluded Elves Where are those dayes you promis'd to your selves When ye should drink Sack from your own plump well And all your Ditches should run Muskadell The Bishops Votes are gone great Strafford lies To appease the Base a Noble Sacrifice And yet in sadnesse Sirs I cannot finde That it raines Fretters yet or that the Wind On his soft Wing brings Spices from the East Without our Ships or Ingots from the West Nature is still the old slow Thing she was And gravely brings her businesses to passe By Sober temperate steps she does not yet Ride Post make Souce and Puddings at a Heate Nor does our Mother Earthes kind Bowells yeild Us Choynes of Beefe yet or the Brawny Sheild As the Fens do Turffe for Digging the same Course She still observes onely 't is something worse You thought 't was brave to rule and therefore layed That burden on your owne which God had made For greater Shoulders Ye injoyed no rest Till your High Constable was above your Preist Angry ye were and did accuse the Fates For making of ye Subjects and not States Which yee determined to alter and Resolv'd your owne not Heavens Decree should stand Inrag'd yee had it in your heart to stone them Moyses and Aaron tooke too much upon them Ye could not sleepe nor yet in quiet sit Till an Ordinance tooke place of sacred Writ Ye 'ave almost your whole wish and faith confesse What have yee got Come be ingenious Would yee not give the best horse in your Teame The three yeares past were but a fearefull Dreame And hug your Resurrection that yee might Retast that Manna once yee set so light Wee 'l not deny 't many great Greivances And Scarlet Sinnes were nourished such as these Land-Lords exacted Rents the Priests were growne So proud they call'd th'tenth of our Crop their owne The Spirituall Courts in every Corner rife A Carnall exercise with a Neighbours Wife Could not be had but straight they made us stand Pinn'd in a Linnen Bag with a white wand Betraying so our Christian Liberty Which gives us Title unto all we see Grosse Innovations in Religion too Were frequent growne O what a Tedious doe Have some Sir Johns made that they might recall That Superstitious hypocriticall That Popish Tricke of praying on the Knee As if GOD joy'd in 's Servants Misery Troubling the ease and quiet of the Saints A haynous Crime and causing sad complaints Whose Postures should be such as might the best Marke out and typifie eternall Rest Those Idoll-Altar Bookes stuft full of Crosses bound up in Silver Anti-Christian Bosses Made of the Whore of Babilons Thimbles stood Preaching-aloft to grace their God of Wood And men began to prize them more then either The powerfull Dod or his blest Pew-Mate Cleaver Sad times the while nay worse in this then Turkes Th' Arminian Preachers had so cryed up workes That foolish Men so evill were the dayes Began to make a Conscience of their wayes Now blesse us all we were i' th very Road To Rome and shortly should have worshipp'd God By our Idolatrous Forefathers reard Churches in sooth began to be repair'd Nay more to be adorn'd Weepe weepe mine eyes This is a roreing sinne a sinne that cryes And had not this beene stopt there had beene found Who would have sworn they 'd stood on holier ground Then a Justice Parler on whose Cushionly A Dalton and Practice of Piety To sanctifie the Roome and purge from sinne The Bribes his Country Visitours bring in The Corporation-Custard which before As the fierce Seas curb'd by the Sandy Shore Did check the fluent Lect'rers heaving veyne And call'd the Spirit into his Bounds againe Aw'd by the Plumbroath every houre Lost more and more still of it's wonted Power And though the Sisters dayly did supply VVith Sighes and Egges to make the Gusto high Yet 't would not do Pride pride the Clergies Pride VVhich I assure ye Sirs was at spring Tide Had got that growth they did not blush to say They would not preach to please the People they Ranck Heresie if good Mas Henderson Can tell what Hresie is How saucy were they growne who dar'd to preach Th'Elect could Sinne O most abhorred Breach Of th'Faithfulls Prividedge and that Gods Sheepe VVere not whom Marshall brands but they who keepe Th'Impossible Commandements Beside They taught the way to Heaven was not so wide That