Selected quad for the lemma: power_n
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A92965
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Seven yeares expired, the third of November. 1647.
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Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644.
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1647
(1647)
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Wing S2742; Thomason 669.f.11[94]; ESTC R210676
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3,002
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1
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Seven yeares expired the third of November 1647 SEven yeares the troublous time away did slip And King and Parliaments Apprenticeship Are come t'an end let both sides be made Free Th 'ave bin at strife too long 't is time t' agree Seven is a number of most strange Predictions Seven yeares King Charles hath under-gon Afflictions Seven yeares the Parliament the Rule did hold Seven years twice more they would do if they could Seven yeares Egypts leane Kine did gourmandise Seven yeares thrice more their Mawes wil not suffise Seven yeares all good men have endured slaverie Seven years base villains have grown rich by knaverie Seven yeares the King serv'd to a troublous Trade Seven yeares expir'd pray let him Free be made Seven yeares are gone th' Apprenticeship is past Pray let him have his Freedome now at last Hee 's past a Prentice doe the best you can To set him Vp make him no Journey-man Of all men he deserves most to be Free To be set Vp no man's so fit as hee His Freedome is to have but what 's his owne His Libertie his Kingdomes Crowne and Throne His VVife his Children and that Lawes and Right May not be over-sway'd by Power and Might That Gods true Service may set forth his Glorie And not a babbling Non-sence Directorie That King and Parliament may so agree That one may Soveraigne th' other Subiects bee And such as wish not King and Kingdomes freedom The Devill to the Gallowes quickly speed ' em A direfull Anathema against PEACE-HATERS written by Franc. Quarles PEace Vipers Peace let crying bloud ne'r cease To haunt your guilty Soules that love not Peace And curst be that Religion that must buy A Reformation with Phlebotomie Infernall Fire-brands whom the very Teares Of groaning England swallow'd up with Feares Cannot allay nor yet the bleeding Vaines Of desperate Ireland which even now remaines A very Golgotha cannot asswage VVhose Babes the Earnest of another Age Taste of your savage Pietie and lie The Lambe-like Martyrs of your Crueltie VVhilest you lye safely embr'd to encrease The flames of Christendome and cry No Peace Let Samsons coupl'd Messengers convay These Fire-brands hence and let them make their way To their owne Houses there consume devast Burne downe their Houses lay their Gran'ries wast Let all their Sonnes run mad into the Street And seeking Refuge there there let them meet Th' encountring Sword and whom that spares to kill Let them be Slaves and labour at the Mill Let all their VVives and Daughters beg in vaine Let them be ravisht first and after slaine Let all their Kindred wander up and downe Like Vagabonds be lasht from Towne to Towne Let Basenesse be en tayl'd upon their Name Too firme for all Recoveries let Shame Reproach and lasting Infamie remaine In deeper Characters then that of Raine Let Catesby Piercy and that bloudie Knot Be Sainted now or else at least forgot And let these Vipers vindicate their Crimes In every Almanack for after-Times VVhere let their basenesse live among the Sinces More firm theÌ„ reigns of Kings or births of Princes Thus let these Fire-brands thrive and if this Curse Succeed not may it yeeld unto a worse For them let them still live till He thinke good To quench them in their Generations blood That all the world may hisse and heare them crie VVho lov'd not Peace in Peace shall never die The Commons Exultation Anagrammaticall to the PARLIAMENT Anagram PRAI LAMENT PRay ye that awe the Land in Moses Chaire And you the Church in Aarons gainst that Prayer An Ancient Parliament made Common more Hate Common Prayer then a common Whore Especially reject the Pater Noster And Churches Liturgie for if you foster Such Heavenly Charmes take heed you 'l pray for Kings Queenes Princes Prelates such are deadly things So you your Christian Faith might re-admit Turne honest men regaine your long-lost Wit And so your fear'd black Consciences would vex ye Which are benum'd now and not yet perplex ye As God commands t' obey the Higher Powers You will be highest and all Power is yours And you know if the King should have his due And you have yours what would become of you 'T would make all good men glad and bad men grieve And Gregories gaines would make him fine for Shrieve His Foot-cloth Saddle and his golden Chaine The Knave would be a fine proud Knave in Graine For just power will o're-top your Lording state And curbe your Pride Superlative your hate Pray for the Spirit of Stupid Ignorance Which may to sacred Pulpits fooles aduance For Academicks see with Argos Eyes Th' are for your Sects and doings too quick Spies There 's two wayes left you do as you began Love nor regard or feare nor God or Man Sit in your Thrones ne're to your Homes go back To see your handy-worke your Countries wrack Y' are safe and whole here gaine the golden Fleeces But in the Countrey you 'd be torne in peices Though Home be Homely yet 't is full of feare If you go home you 'le find the Devill is there Therefore as yet pray breake not up your Schooles Clubs Flailes Pitchforkes are but churlish Tooles And where you thinke the fresh Ayre will refresh ye The oppressed Countrey Corridons will thresh ye The wronged Yeomanrie are stout and tough And they are not yet pol'd halfe bare enough They still have left some Horses Sheepe and Swine Some little store of Money Calves and Kine You have but taken part from them as yet You must take all or leave them ne're a whit The onely way their courages to quaile Is strip 'em all as naked as my Nayle Take from them all whereby they may subsist And then they 'le not be able to resist Thus may you Rule and Raigne and sit secure You and your Heires for ever to endure Sit still Returne not to your Habitations They 'le call you to account for Sequestrations For plunderings for free-quarterings and oppressions And all your Tyraunies beyond expressions You 'le be examin'd what good you have done And you most humbly must say truely none They 'le aske you then what evills ye have committed You 'le answer We no Mischiefe have omitted Then they 'le demand How fares the King I pray You 'le say he beares the Name and we the sway They 'le aske of true Religion what 's become And you must answer you have strucke her dumbe Then they le require What did you with the Church And you 'le Reply ye 'ave left her in the lurch Ye 'ave brought Confusion to our Albion And made King Charles a King of Babylon Nothing of Englands left but foule defame And Babell-Building of old Amsterdam Famous for this that sinne or any thing May be endured but one Church one King The Arke once Landed at our happy Haven We have refus'd the Dove and tooke the Raven Whose greedy Appetite and dismall croaking Hath bin Lawes Churches and Religions choaking Of all these crimes the Country will accuse you And find you Guilty and most kindly use you These questions will be ask'd and more then these Therefore sit still if you love Wealth and Ease The cryes and curses of the poore are fierce And to Gods terrible Tribunall pierce Therefore good Parliament l Prai Lament Lament repent just Vengeance to prevent Pray till your lasting Lungs and Breath is spent The rest of time melt into teares lament But can you weepe your selves into a stood That could not weepe to see us weepe in blood Your hearts were rather tickl'd at the pâ—ey VVhen as you traffiqu'd over our Red Sea If ere you weepe perhaps your cheekes you 'le wet As Ahab did who did but counterfet Or like the weeping of the Crocodile That murthers people as they passe by Nyle Or if your teares are reall you must borrow From Esau tardy teares of needlesse sorrow For why like him you do repent too late To move our wornged Soules you 've fill'd with hate But if like Peter you could weepe most bitter True teares of Penitence they would be sweeter T' your selves the widowes and the fatherlesse Your late petitioners without redresse I would you knew how Country Court and City Laugh at your dangers slight you without pitty Curses flye up that you may be confounded To that black pit whose bottome ne're was sounded But yet though not to Man to God still weepe For in his Bottle he true teares doth keepe Pay true repentance up for your Excise To God for Sinne Hee 'le wipe teares from your eyes FINIS