Selected quad for the lemma: sense_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A52425
|
A murnival of knaves, or, Whiggism plainly display'd, and (if not grown shameless) burlesqu't out of countenance
|
Norris, John, 1657-1711.
|
1683
(1683)
|
Wing N1255; ESTC R10820
|
12,952
|
42
|
Pious Frauds Th' Emporium of Pimps Whores and Bauds Nest of a cursed Gaming Crew Then Rome take P or P take you For he 's or your's or some Fiend's due Others there are that dare assure That when he 's in the Grave secure Being such a Prodigie of Lust He 'll Fumble with the Worms in dust And get O pretty sight to see A numerous crawling Progeny There 's one thing more 'gainst him in charge Wherein I will be brief not large Or rather an Advice that he Wou'd learn to practice Loyalty Know the vast distance Sawcebox come 'Twixt Royal James and Rascal Tom What make no difference wretched wight 'Twixt a Great Prince and a Poor Knight A common City-Servant known Who e'er found him a Faithful one Unleader'd now thou mayst be made Or turn an Aged Lancepresade Die Die for shame thou 'st liv'd too long Turbulent Commoner of the Throng That we may all with good Presage From that time date our Merry-age Thus you see Exit Dwarfish Don The May-pole-Miser too is gon And eke also amongst the Herd Our most Salacious Dad-Gray-Beard Of all Sedition Villany And Mischief the Triumviri To make this Trine a perfect Square Which Learned call Quadrangular Hearken with reverence and Fear Divinity brings up the Rear Come Black-Coat-Bumpkin Grave Fopdoodle Shake ears affixt to empty Noddle Of a Bad Father the Worst Son The Proteus of Religion Spawn of an Anabaptist Dipper Of the Kirk's Catch an Vnder-skipper Once a Lay-Saint-Audomarist A Papist and a Calvanist Now this then that indeed what not E'en any thing but good God wot As stories tell and 't is no Flam O' th' Famous man of Roterdam The Papists all so dubious were Of his Religion that i'th'aer They hang'd his Corps 'twixt Heaven and Hell Knowing not which t'allot him well Much more ought this Lay-Priest to be Serv'd so for his Inconstancie Till the last Trump a dubious Case Summons him to his proper place There to receive his deserv'd doom For kindness done to Vs and Rome This Reverend Doctor of the Manca Prudent as Quixot's Sancha Pancha Did gravely foot it round the Town In Doctors Scarf and Doctors Gown With Janizaries two at heel Ty'd to Morglay's of Bilbo-steel Therefore you cannot but him grant To be of the Church-Militant Now walks en Cuerpo Honest Tite Scorning to leave the Spaniard quite 'Cause he being every where denied Was by the Don Doctorified A Renegado we 'll go on Who wants but Circumcision Asperse good store and Pezants true To make him either Turk or Jew This Learned Sage Philosopher Needs not read Alec Rosse over For this Religious Goblin Elf Has a Pansebeia in himself He is Religions Tennis-ball Bandied and toss'd about by all From England unto France and Spain And thence to England back again A Dulman a meer Clerk obese A walking Quagmire of Grease So Bladder'd by the Can and Pot That he like the Heraclot Values no more the pricks of pins Then Boys at Foot-ball kicks on shins And for these Reasons they do say He 's made Arch-bishop of Bum-bay 'Cause his Posteriours large and great Will very well fulfil that Seat So that promoted to this place He that had none is call'd his Grace Though there were other Reasons store Two three or four or less or more As followeth such as these are And they indeed are very rare As wise as he that rode in quest Of 's Mother-Tongue a pretty Jest Or the four-footed Creature dull Trotting nine miles to suck a Bull. In Travel he hath all out-done Has Lacquay'd the unwearied Sun All Europe o're like a Divoto True by the Figure pars pro toto Active as Guts and Garbage can Be in so great though little Man He has a Voice as loud and yerne As any Swallow on a Berne With which he in a squeaking tone Sawsily prates to every one Thinking Proud Fop he has no betters Because he is a Man of Letters He was so once I must confess When that it was his happiness To be Rome's Post-boy and made choice Of to be Mercury from Artois If this does make him Learned so He is but nothing else I know He cannot say his Currat Lex Nor though he ought O Vivat Rex He frequently breaks Priscian's head Inhumanely though long since dead In Holy Writ some Texts him gall Particularly Swear not at all Besides another seems but strange Unto him Be not given to Change By which it plainly may be said I' th Sacred Pages he 's Ill-read Nay both these sentences would he Expunge had he the liberty Were it not for that dreadful Curse Than which there cannot be a worse Mention'd which I suppose he knows Of that Book in the very close More of his Vertues I cou'd tell For which the Doctor knows full well He 's curs'd by Candle Book and Bell And damn'd by th' Pope of Rome to Hell Yet now that I have done with all Particularly the Murnival I must i' th' Tories Vindication Whisper a word i' th' ear o' th' Nation And that is truly only this Dissenters take it not amiss When Tories swear indeed they swear But only 't is because they fear And know and hear most certainly Whigs Cheat and Lye most damnably Making Religion Noise and Buz Enuf to vex a Man of Vz. But to excuse them from that Crime If an Excuse may be in Rhyme I will assure you there may be Found 'mongst you as great Rogues as we For Whoring Swearing Drinking too For Lying we have nought to do Nor Shamming 't is your constant Trade And will be till the Earth be made A general fire and it is true As I said Hypocrite take thy due And that I certainly thee tell Thy portion 's th'hottest place in Hell Thus Whig Damns Whig and yet they all Are Innocent both great and small But I must tell you that 's a Lye Whig I 'm asham'd of you and why For tho' through ignorance of late It has been Tom's unlucky Fate To be abus'd I 'le undeceive The Vulgar if they will believe 'T was whipping Zac not whipping Tom That first discover'd Maidens Bumb And flogg'd it though he Pious Soul Design'd the opposite Port-hole To enter but he first wou'd see How fair Posteriours might be And then he rationally guest The thing before was like the rest A pretty way in truth to try Whether a Maid with man wou'd ly Next the Clare-Market Priest comes in Who never counted it a Sin To lye with Woman Wife Maid Whore And has they say bored many a score But that the worst was when he tried To bless before he occupied Who caught the Maid in private room With Benediction of the Womb Where he upon the very place Like Wanton Priest ' gat Babe of Grace But 't was not ill to ly with her Because a true Jack Presbyter Now give me leave for to desine The Son o' th' Handkercherd Divine Who swills until the Noon of Night And gorges still his Appetite With Viands and Liquors but yet then For to avoid the sight of Men Sleeps where his Drunkenness he got Like Holy Presbyterian Sot And then at last away he goes Upon his Feet I think with Toes But first 't is possibly he may For 's Lodging in the morning pray And that is all welcome well gone Of Holy Father Gratious Son I care not for the Bullian Jigs That in Moorefields are danc'd by Whigs Of the same Coat but will conclude With one Lay-man o' th' Multitude A Reverend Grave Pythagoras But in good sooth a very Ass That is endow'd with as much sense And Learning for all his presence As 'mongst School-boys is one and twenty That can repeat As in praesenti Yes he has been a Statist too Yes certainly with much ado A Man of great Integrity That will not pay nor tell you why Though a just Debt only I won't Is this your Honesty pox on 't One that shall sip from place to place Until his Worship does disgrace His Worship and his Manhood too And yet shall rail at me or you Though I have known him that I le say Take drunken Journeys thrice a day And going home at night 't is verum Hath Scarified his Index rerum But in a Tory 't is a Crime Unpard'nable a Fault sublime Yet in a Whig it is but small A Failing may be none at all Great Monarch hear now the sad plaint Of your poor people sick and faint For Parliament and Priviledge Which nought can cure but Ketch and Sledge Grant their Request if you think fitting Or send them home to mind their knitting FINIS BOOKS Printed for J. Norris In the Year 1683. A Satyr against the Association and the Guild-hall Riot 4 o. The Noble Stranger a Novel 8 o. A Tract against the Absolute Decree of Reprobation in Lat. 8 o. An Idea of Happiness in a Letter to a Friend