Earth and Death but th' Doctor stands his Ground Though th' Hue and Crye hath made its empty Sound 〈…〉 whereof happ'ly blew off his Gown 〈…〉 Romes Breath from Whitehall blew to Town 〈…〉 Romanists have him blown up In London yet he may both Dine and Sup And they have him blown down from th' Pallace Royal Yet th' City shelters him as Truly Loyal There thou and thine must let the Doctor rest Unswallowed up alive by Popish Pest Conclude with this remark the Beast of Rome To a strange Surfeit now by Oats is come When this Poematist hath doom'd his Whiggs He hands his Tories in with dainty Iiggs Thy very front hath a most happy hit Ireland was first the proper Tories Seat Thy Van thou rankest Good Barzillai old I wish that Earl as good yea more twice told Thou say'st the rising Rebels he withstood But say'st not whether those of th' Irish Brood Or of the English sure it was his Glory Hâ—s name will shine in everlasting Story So far as he the Irish Rebels hush'd Who many thousand Protestants had crush'd But much disparity thou'lt surely find 'Twixt this old Iew and th' Earl of Irish kind Why must this Noble Earl Barzillai be Neither in Names nor Natures they agree The Name as hard as Iron signifies But thou cries up thy Earl for Charities Large was his wealth but larger was his Heart He 's Character'd by thy own jingling Art Nor doth their Natures better here Accord Barzillai pass'd not over Iordans Ford Nor did he with his God like Prince return Unto Ierusalem though he did mourn With him in exile as for Mirth and Treasures He judg'd himself unfit for Courtly Pleasures His Soul was so Divine he could not breath But where retir'd he might prepare for Death And lay hold also on Eternal Life I would this were all Aged Peoples strife But why 's not Eldest Hope call'd Chimham here Whose Blood was brisk and thought not Death was neer Was it'cause Chimham was not snatch'd away As He but liv'd in Court all Davids Day But now thy wanton Wit rants over wild Thou seem'st a frothy Fool or Pagan Child Profanely says to snatch in Manhood prime This Hopeful Earl was Providence's Crime And an unequal Fate Black Blasphemy Branding Gods Wisdom and his Purity He that doth all things well must he be blam'd His ways are not unequal yet defam'd Must Humane Folly Divine Wisdom thwart Must th' Sun corrected be by th' Dyals Art God of his matters never gives Account His Will 's a Law as He 's Lord Paramount But why dost thou from grave Barzillai fly Next unto Zadock so prepost'rously None 'twixt that Prince and this Priest canst thou find Distressed David had one Princely Friend Ittai rhe Gittite th' King of Gath his Son Stuck close to David against Absolon Who was an Exile yet tho Hebrew Faith Asserted aud its King the Scripture saith Third part of th' Army to his Conduct was Committed by the King and Triumph ha's Strong was his Name my Sign and Plowshare too In th' Holy Tongue all th' Rebels to undo How cam'st thou this Brave Prince to overlook Before thy Zadock in thy pedantick Book May be 't was wilful blindness not to trace A Parallel to suit Prince Rupert's case Of Royal Extract and an Exile is Through By got Papists yet he 's Englands Bliss Stoutly asserteth the Reformed Faith 'Gainst Wind and Tide with David weather'd hath Third part of th' Army was his Commission True hath he been to th' Father and to th' Son Nor hath he wanted Triumphs in his Days God Grant he may our Faith to Triumph raise Had'st thou Hit here on this Right Parallel It might have qualifi'd some Errours well But thou dost leap o're him to Zadock next Yet there 's thy Comment shorter than the Text Neither in this lines Parallel can run Abiathar then High Priest had not done Zadock was then but Sagan under him Whom Solomon displac'd plac'd Zadok in Whose lowly mind rais'd not to Grace or Place 'T was 'cause descended right of Aarons Race Hadst thou thy Talmud well consulted there Thou might'st have found a Law that doth declare None High-Priest can be till he 's Sagan first But th' English Zadock's Leap oppose who durst Having a Royal Hand to help him o're All th' Bishops Heads though he was none before Much less the Sagan which he shou'd have been Before by th' Talmud Metropolitene Next comes thy Sagan whom thou hop'st to see Thy Zadock that his Poet thou mayst be Or better dignifi'd would th' old Man die And leave for him his Lambeth Dignity Hence 't is a Distich must thy Zadock starve Eight lines no less must thy Young Sagan serve Wherein thou Skews him off with motly Colours Hoping to have his Crowns if not his Dollars Yea better Angels Guinnies all in Sums When from Annas to Caiphas he comes Thy next is Adriel I cannot guess How he suits David's Worthies more or less The Jewish Adriel of Ephraim In Marrying Merab was most false to Him Twice Saul to David had her promised Yet Adriel dare take her to his Bed By whom he had five Sons all which were hang'd Whereby perfidiousness was briskly bang'd Can this Man represent our David's Friend More like he is a Foe or a Damn'd Fiend 'T is true he hath some Honours lately took From th' Dutiful not Disobedient Duke The Hebrew name the Flock of God doth sound I wish him of it and in it be found Next Iotham comes who perfect signifies Thou makes him so 'cause he both Parties Tri's Iotham was one who could declare his Mind Yet so in Parables as few could find His meaning till became fix'd Mercury 'Fore e're in motion ne're rest quietly Iotham was one who Curses could pour forth Even on the Mount of Blessing looking North Iotham was one who fled away and went As if affrighted with a Parliament Thy Parallel may meet in these in more Yet differs it for he was long before King David so he could not be his Friend Slain were his Brethren by a Bastard-Hind He was but young thine old a Saviour's Son Was he and had Gods Inspiration Forâ—â—lliâ—g Fates that fell upon his Foes He 〈◊〉 bloody Bramble to oppose Quadrate these cannot in thy Parallel No better hit have Hushai Ammiel Next Hushai comes Hebrew that meaning minâ— Hasting to Honours to vain Poets kind Thy wild harangue therefore doth Varnish thus Most Frugal he 's and yet most Bounteous Thy Type is blam'd for Deep Dissimulation And for Equivocating Reservation Pretending Service but Intending Slips Is Tâ—is 〈◊〉 Lettucâ— for thy â—â—attering 〈◊〉 Or will â—his wâ—â—â— thy Antâ—â—â—pe agreeâ— Perhaps His staâ—â—h't Orationâ— thou may'st see That to Ambition are adapted well His Friend 's for a Fool 's Paradise to sell Thy Ammiel comes the last brings up the Reer And could he say God with me well it were The Poet saith that Scaâ— comes hindermost Why wilt thou Thrust Him last on whom's thy Boast As if all other Chairmen Charioteers Were but fond Phaetons to Him none steers Like this Brave Pilot th' Ship the Sanedrim That since Run wrong because they Question Him Which of the Scripture Ammiels as He But barely Nam'd then where 's thy Harmony One is Cold Caleb's Comrade th' other is Achitophel's Ally so not thy Bliss Thy Wearied Muse thou sayst must bear the Blame For Hobbling thus at th'closing of the Game Thy Mingles both of Paint and Dirt are much Thy Cap'ring Jumps and Cogging Dy's are such That with thy Muse My Muse is wearied 'T is time for both now to betake to Bed There Acquiesce in Hope of Parliaments That may chastize thy Senseless Sentiments FINIS K. Charles * Mat. 19.5 * 1 Cor. 7.4 * 1 King 15.5 Q Katherine * 2 Sam. 6.23 * Gen. 30.1 D. of Monmouth * 2 Sam. 16.11 * Ezek. 7. â—0 * 2 Sam 15.3 Iosephus â— V â— E. of Shaftesbury * 2 Sam. 8.15 * Achi My Brother and Tophel a Fool Hebr. D. of Buck. * Num. 25.14 15. * 1 Kin. 16.9.18.20 Lord Huntington E. of Essex * England * Ireland L. Howard * 1 Kin. â— 5.25.26 and Iosephus Levit. 10.1 * Sir Will. Ionas Sher. Bethel * 2 Sam. 16.7 * Dr. Oats * Agag * Numb 16.12.13 14. * E. of Ormond * 2 Sam. 19.33.35 * V. 36. * 1 Tim. 6.19 * E. of Ossâ—â—ry P. Rupert * 2 Sam. 15.18.19.20 * Ch. 18.2 * A. B. of Canterbury * 2. Sam. 15. from 24. to 30. B. of London E. of Mowgrave * 1 Sam. 18.19 * 2 Sam. 21. E. of Hallifax * Judg. 9.7.8 c. 2.22 * Judg. 9.21 * L. Hyde * L. Seimor * Hebrew Ammiel
A KEY With the WHIP To open the Mystery Iniquity OF THE POEM CALLED ABSALOM ACHITOPHEL Shewing its Scurrilous Reflections Upon both KING and KINGDOM Published by Richard Ianeway 1682. A KEY With the WHIP To open the MYSTERY and INIQUITY OF THE POEM CALL'D ABSALOM and ACHITOPHEL THus far His Braz'd fac'd Preface a vile Design Call'd for a Comment Rugged yet Divine His Book 's no better Head and Body too Of Polypus sâ—inks on to th' Realm Undo As Full of Hell as Ink sublimely Base If it th' Impartial Or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 step by step do Trace View but distinctly's Iewish Allegories Allusions of both's English Whigs and Tories Never were th' Harp and th' Harrow more unlike Not Even but Odd All his Two's do strike Iewish and English th' vast Disparity Next View betwixt but no Congruity Had Plutarch made such parallels as This â—ond Poet doth he had deserv'd an Hiss First to begin with 's Top-Comparison Of Holy David to our Soveraign The Type of Christ he makes our Charles's Type Yet draws foul Figures of the Antitype As if embracing Queans o're all his Land Instead of 's Royal Queen with 's Royal Hand 'T is true this Godly King had many Wives Yet neither He nor th' Rest leading such Lives Can be excus'd from Sin unless he 'l prove A Divine Dispensation did them move But not one word suppose God Tolerated This ill for good yet not Anticipated Is his first Law hereby it stands in â—orce 'Gainst all Exceptions and all Falâ—e Divorce First one to one was the first blest Confinement More is a Monster and a Curs'd consignment Man then was bid to cleave unto his Wife Not unto Wives and this was during Life If neither of the two have power over Their Bodies then they cann't give to another Though David did excel all other Kings His Vertues shone Save only in the Things Of 's brave Vriah whose Cade lamb he took Unto his Flock and so Gods Law forsook This Wicked Poet one of th' Devils Imps O're looks all th' Good and like a Prince of Pimps Fixes on 's Fault propounds 't for Imitation A Pattern prompt for a Kings Gloriation Scarabeus like he flies o're fragrant Flowers And falls on stinking Dung which he Impowers A Princes President like Machiavel Propounds a Pattern prompting towards Hell Thus fawning Sycophants do bolster up Their Lords in ill their spittle they will sup Those Cur Dogs currying Kindness suck the Blood While they but lick the wound as pleasing Food Kind Murtherers of Souls in Court are these Aiones and Negones what you please Next is our English Queen the Poets Scorn Because she 's Barren She must be forlorn Though mocking Michals may have barren Wombs Impos'd as th' Curse of God to cut their Combs For Scorning Piety yet Daughters of Sarah as well as Saul whom he doth huff May Barren be Man is not in Gods stead The Key of Wombs is at Gods Girdle ti'd How dare this black-mouth'd wretch blaspheme a Queen To Afflict th' Afflicted base hath even been Near to the King he falls on Monmouth next Makes th' Story of proud Absalom his Text. This Noble Duke he makes his Absalon As if a Traitor to the King and Crown Oh thou Incongruous Fool what parallel That 's Congruous 'twixt these two canst thou tell Iosephus and the Scripture â—imn to life Thy vile Ambitionists most restless Strife To Rape the Crown before his Fathers Death Sick of his life he sought to stop his Breath A Graphical Description of this Type Set out in 'ts Colours Epithets most Ripe Stands upon Record with this ugly Brand A compleat Rogue Ambitious Arrogant Vngrateful Lying a Dissembling Wretch Who th' Reins of lustful Reins did lewdly stretch Traitor to 's Father Rebel to his King Subverter of the People every thing Accomplishing a Villain Sublimate Without a parallel in Realm or State And must brave Monmouth be his parallel By Renegado Wits of old Cromwell Five hundred Guinnies makes him sell his Sense His King and Country and his Conscience Oh lump of Impudence where canst thou find That e're Pride budded thus in Monmouths mind Was e're he hammering and hatching out For two full years any Rebellious Rout As did thy Absalom did e're this Duke His Fathers Judges Brand in ope Rebuke Affecting to be made Iudge in the Land Soothing all Plaintiffs that their Cause would stand Right or Wrong smooth them up with gawdy words To steal away their Hearts while War and Swords Were in his Heart against his Fathers Crown Fit to be made a Chanc'lour of Renown When did this Noble Duke aspire a Train Of Princely Port like a Successours Aim When did he Court Collogue Crouch Cring to th' Rabble All 's true of Absalom of th' Duke a Babble Stoln hath he many Hearts unto the King But never any from him That 's the thing Thou dost traduce him with as basely by Counterfeit Court'sy stoop'd to climb on high A Votary when seem'd he for Religion Only to palliate Design'd Rebellion When did he send his Spies abroad the Land To feel the Peoples Pulses bring to Hand Their Hands and Hearts to his Conspiracy Though some attend him in Simplicity Much more Dispar'ty might be Blazon'd on 'Twixt our Young Hero and this Rebel Son Thy Type and Antitype Concords no better In 'ts Starched Verse and Dedicated Letter More clear 't will be in thy Achitophel Sage Shaftesbury thou makes his Parallel The only hit is both were Oracles All th' rest are empty sounds and idle Kackles Thy Type pernicious Counsel did infuse That th' Rebel-Son a princely pomp might use Chariots and Horsemen fifty Footmen all The vulgar to perstringe and them enthrall Must rise up early call the Plaintiff to him Shew Zeal to Right from those that would undo hiâ— Must meet all Suiters say their Cause was good Though nere so bad yet none deputed stood In 's Courts to Right them he must undertake Promise Redress from Griefs for Iustice sake Though never meant it but to gain their Loan From Davids Carkass he might step to th' Throne With many more insinuating Tricks Impatient of delays th' Mock-Sun to fix In 's Royal Orb before th' True Sun was set Present Possession of the Crown to get Did e're our Earl Brisk Monmouth thus advise For a prepost'rous Throne to Tantalize His Fathers Person Iustice to Traduce To th' Rabble say His Courts were of no Use To hear their cause and to Redress their wrong Such Poison 's not transfus'd into his Tongue When did he teach this Duke to Vilify His Fathers Magistrates for Villany To vulgar Ears His Dote Age-Government Yet th' People praise even to the firmament Sordidly fawn them from their Wit and Reason And deep involve them into horrid Treason That Subtil-Fox the true Achitophel Was at the bottom of this Cursed Spell Though he lay
find Or was 't because Apollo and his Muses Had Worm'd thy Tongue to work off thy Abuses Or was 't the Oil of Crab Tree which Anoints As in Rose-Ally once thy nasty Joints No better Antidote is found to fetch That plaguy poison out of th' Whiffling-Wretch If this Beasts Tongue be not cut out and dri'd Or th' Head hang'd up in Tyburn Tippit ti'd Why dost thou not thy Parable pursue Make this Earl hang himself a Death his due Were he so base as thy Achitophel Not hope for Heaven nor yet fear an Hell No no thy after-wit in th' Earl espi'd Instead of Sadling's Ass and him Bestride His Anger he could bridle all Affronts He calmly puts up never vengeance Haunts Though harmless to himself not conscious Not as Judge Belknap Self-condemn`d said thus There only wants an Hurdle Horse and Halter To do me right and present State to Alter Had such despairing phrenzy him subdu'd Such Hony-drops thy malice had bedew'd Thy Romanizing mind Romantick Eye Had glutted been with this sad Tragedy No less had been had th' Jury found the Bill By th' Fatal Ax his Noble Blood to Spill Had th' Deed been done by Self or by Jack Ketch It Canoniz'd would be a Romish Fetch But both's defeated now 's thy After Game Seeing his Sun break forth from th' Cloud of Shame With twelve inserted Lines t' Insinuate Whom before this thou didst Recriminate Why dost not thou hang up thy Absolon Upon some forked Oak that Rebel-Son Hung by the Head between the Earth and Heaven Both scorn'd that Wretch a lump of Cursed Leaven The Oak's his Throne and twisted Hair his Crown Three Darts through's Heart his Scepter of Renown Thus art thou lame in both thy Parallels Thy Absoloms and thy Achitophels Thy Similies run not Upon four feet Are foully founderd and do lamely meet What ever likeness in their Heads may be Yet do their Feet most grosly disagree Nor have their Bodies better Harmony Nor in thy Zimri happier is thy Hit Whom Buckingham thou basely makes to Fit Thy Monmouths Type is a base publick pest Whose foulest Soul 's in a fair Body drest And an Incorrigible PARRICIDE Whom Heav'n and Earth a Room at last deny'd Next this Duke with thy Dirt must be defil'd As if his Grace most Graceless were and vil'd And having lost all 's love to 's Israel Which of th' two Zimri's He 's thou canst not tell Not Cozhi's Rogue he is nor Ela's Traitor Neither of these agree in mode or matter The first that cursed Simeonite he 's not Who brought on Israel that flagrant Blot By Balaams Counsel He was Young this old He hug'd Outlandish this true English Mold A Foreign Whore and a Domestick Wife Differs them much in Law as well as Life He and his Whore in th flagrancy of Lust By Phinehas Javelin were both thorow thrust Thy Sagan Phinehas never durst shew Such Vengeance on this Zimri bold and true To th' English Interest no Popish chatter Therefore thou dost so fouly him bespatter Suppose him too extravagant and kind Still hath he a right Noble English Mind Thou coins fine Speeches for thy Absalon For thy Achitophel still drolling on Why dost not thou as old Iosephus doth Coin a fine Speech for thy False Zimri's both 'Gainst God and Moses palliate his Sin And boldly Mann his Crime through thick and thin Zimri in Hebrew cut off signifies As th' Vine's superfluous Branches pruned lies This Graceful English Vine-branch stands upright Still uncut off by Romish Rage and Spight Though he affronteth them in Deed and Word Saying fond Romanists do eat their Lord Could they but eat the Devil too said He A Romanist with th' first I 'le surely be Thy wanton Zimri was old Salu's Son That is trod under foot in th' Hebrew Tongue His Name and Fate harmoniously agree Yet on this Duke no such Fate canst thou see Cozbi his Whore in Hebrew is a lie His Dutchess to be such all will deny Cozbi a lie was Balaams Tool to draw Israel from God and from his Holy Law But canst thou say Balaam of Rome hath us'd His Dutchess and by her his lies transfus'd Thus no congruity collateral Can correspond this Parallel at all If th' Duke be not th' first Zimri th' second less His Masters Murtherer in Drunkenness As cruel to himself as to his Master Burns th' House o're his own Head no such disaster Befalls this Noble Duke whom thou despises And as thy Fellow scoundrel Scandalizes Blacks him with lines blacker with Hell than Ink Him worse Buffoon than thee to make Men think Beggerd by Fools and to b' enrich'd by Knaves The first are weak the latter Wicked Slaves But who 's the Fool that dare a Star so spatter For all thy Guinnies with thy stinking blatter Were 't not below so great a luminary To mark such Barking Curs thy case wou'd vary There 's noise in Town of a strange Whipping Tom But th' greatest noise makes this true whipping Iohn The first t is said doth only Women whip This would make Men yea greatest Men to skip Under his Lashes but they scorn his worst Wellknowing he of all Men is accurst Right Son of Ishmael whose Hand 's against All Men yea great Men ne're so high Advanc'd Next he falls foul on th' brave Lord Huntington Whom he calls Well-hung Balaam in Derision As if this Patriot were th' old Priapus Whom th' Poets feign vastly Venereous But why a Balaam must he called be I never heard him blam'd for Sorcery Nor ever that my Lord a Prophet was Or that he us'd to ride upon an Ass The hit lays here one Rhiming Ass Reproves him Another railing Ass with Kicks be Hoofs him Publishing slanders as to be believ'd Had not three Noble Peers his truth retriev'd By Balaam Balak th' Rabbies represents Rome's Church in Priestly and in Regal Tents Thou 'st got thy Balaam though not of th' right Coat But where 's thy Balak Rogers Romish Goat Next comes the Noble Earl of Essex and Is call'd by thee cold Caleb as his Brand But why since Caleb is a name of note 'T is Hebrew Hearty and doth well denote This Hearty lover of his Liege and Land What e're black-mouths to th' contrary him brand Yet Cordial â—aleb is reproach'd as cold Is it because for Children he 's too old Or is it cause He is not in Gods stead To give himself an Heir on th' Marriage bed Sure I am that his Zeal's not cold for good Both for the Cross and Harp he briskly stood We will suppose him cold to Popish tricks To th' damn'd Designs of Rome he cannot fix Next comes to be traduc'd that Noble Lord Howard of Escrick whom he can afford No better name than Canting Nadab though Both his Abilities and Interest Men know Yet damns he him into Oblivions Grave Who would a sinking King and Kingdom save Here once again this quibling Poet
leaves His Reader in the dark and subt'lly weaves Another slipp'ry name Ambiguous Or Priest or Prince it may be taken thus There was a Nadab Ieroboams Son By whose lew'd life old Israel was undone Prince Nadab cannot be th' Lord's Parallel Lambs Wool and Golden Calves agree not well He for 's contagious Sin by 's friend was Slain Cast out to th' Dogs from his short sinful Raign Will th' Harp and th' Harrow hang together here 'Twixt such a Miscreant and our Brave Peer No 't is Priest Nadab Aarons Eldest Son Who offerd God strange Fire when first begun His Priestly Office and happly in overjoy Was overwarmd with Wine at 's new Employ Canst thou make these together symbolize Whilst thou with wicked wit doth temporize No Nadabs Fire will lick up this Lords Pottage Wherewith thou slanders him in thy old dotage As did Elijahs Fire drink up the water Concur they can't in Person nor in matter Makest thou no diff'rence 'twixt Lords Spiritual And those of th' Layity Lords Temporal Thy Nadab was a Priest and had he liv'd He 'd been High Priest as th' eldest Son surviv'd Lord Howard never was nor ever hope To be thy Sagan Zadock Priest or Pope Strange Fire doth slay thy Priest in 's Youth and Sonless This Lord doth live for all thy Porridge senseless No better hits thy Bâ—ll fac'd Ionas next I 'm sure thy comment doth confound the Text Why must Sir William Iones thy Ionas be Is it because th' Storm Raiser's only He What is the Storm which makes thee thus to foam Is 't 'cause the Ship will not steer right to Rome As Pauls Ship when she ran between two Sands The Real and the Sham-Plots of three Lands Or Ionas he 's to be cast over Board Will this in th' See of Rome a calm affoard Without a Whale to Ship him safe to Shore No thou wouldst drown him to be seen no more Nor this alone would quell thy Romish storm Thou 'lt find more Ionas's to drown or burn What bold-fac â—d Bard art thou that dares to call This Sage Bull fac'd as if God made not all Did he make Treason Law well to propose The Habeas-corpus Bill for Friends and Foes Thy Shimei's next on whom thou quibbles worst As if his King he had most curs'dly curst Turning good Bethel to Beth-aven vile The worst of Mankind by thy frothy stile Did ever thy Mock Shimei call the King A Bloody Belialist or some such thing As mad with Malice threw he e're a Stone As well as Curses at God's Nointed one So Shimei did venting his hellish words And venturing his life to Davids Swords Oh how that dead Dog bark'd come out come out Thou cursed King Thus desperately stout Had Bethel been he had been Soundly Bang'd Yea long before this day been Roundly Hang'd All his rare Vertues thou turns into Vice His hopeful Youth Zeal Piety and rise To Shrievalty thou makes a Ridicule Makes th' City chuse a Knave if not a Fool His Juries Damns though none were panneld more In Honesty and Honour e're before And though thou scoff at his frugality Yet not a word how he set Prisoners free Had his Rome plaguing courage been but cold His Kitchins coldness never had been told This Shrieve to Babel brats gave plaguy Times His Chain bound them to Tyburn There 's his Crimes Corah comes last brings up thy railing Reer And suffers slashes by thy slandering Jeer But why is Doctor Oats this Rebel Grand Who with an Accent doth recorded stand Whom thy Caduceum transformed ha's Into Nehushtan monumental Brass Oh wonder working Mercury can thus Oats into Pillars metamorphose us As high as th' Dragon on Bow-Steeple stands To save from Romish Plots three Sister Lands This thy Mercurial Wit can do yet loose Thy Oaten Pipes thereby that please thy Muse But oh how ugly seems thy Metaphor Thus to cast Dirt on Englands Saviour That was the name the Earl of Danby gave him As th' Arch. Attestor thou in scorn God save him Who saved us from that Damn'd Popish Plot For which thou scoffs and doth his Scutcheon blot Nay all the rest that therein with him join Thou makes them suborn'd Rogues for love or Coin Though th' King four Parliaments do all adjust Their Evidence as well deserving Trust Where did he with affronts the King Annoy Or threaten him his Brother to Destroy As Samuel did Saul for Agags Death Him thou makes Oats and Corah with one breath Can th' Doctor be Corah and Samuel The last not first is a fit parallel Corah in Hebrew signifieth Bald Thus th' Doctor Corah never's better call'd While he was in Corahs Conspiracy With his Bald Crown 'mong Priests in Treachery Now he 's come off from Corahs Tents Romes Lord If not at Moses at Messias word Discovers th' Grandees of th' Conspiracy Stil'd Corah still he should not be by thee Oh how far wide thou shoots in this thy Type of thy two Corahs Jars with th' Antitype They suit in nothing save both Levites be A Rebel That but Loyal This all see Save he that 's blind or willfully doth wink Thus King and Parliaments did truly think Corah the Jew a chief Ring-leader was Of black Rebellion a most sturdy Ass Nor God nor Moses will be warned by But will be Captain oâ— th' Conspiracy He 's not content to be a Levite bare He 'l have the Priesthood too and th' Ephod wear Moses and Aaron both shall stoop to me I 'le be both Prince and Priest proudly said he The meekest Man on Earth was moved much To hear th' Arch-Rebels Mouth out-belchi 〈◊〉 Blasphemous words proclaiming th' Pâ—â—ple 〈◊〉 They might turn Priests and not be blam'd for Folly This Leveller dies not a common Death Consuming Fire and Earthquake stops his Breath When but one day he and his Company Like Children had blown up their Bubbles high No sooner are blown up but are blown out And fall on th' Eyes and Heads of th' Rebel Rout. Now vain Poematist how canst thou take Right measures here and an hit happy make 'Twixt thy two Corahs in the Act or End Vast difference in both thou maist attend How can thy Jingles jump in any one Of Corahs Acts Ramm'd with Rebellion With this brave Doctors brisk Discovery Of the Rude-Romish-Rebel's Treachery Hath he aspir'd thy Zadock to Vngrace And to assume th' High-priesthood as his place Where are his Priests and Princes to Conspire Against Meek Moses for Iehovah's Ire When did his Dathans and Abirams Rail At our Mild Moses scorn his Royal Call None say They 'l not come up to Parliament When Moses Royal Writs to them are sent None stile that Bondage House a flowing Land With Hony Milk none for returning stand If thus the Acts do miss much more the End Rome cannot Oats to Purgatory send 'Cause th' sturdy Rebels they 'l not come up said They did go down into the Dolesom Shade Of