Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n
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A37211
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The loyal citizen, or, Sedition laid open a satyr presented to all loyal citizens and subjects / by J.D., Gent.
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J. D., Gent.
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1682
(1682)
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Wing D37; ESTC R1520
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4,730
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18
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THE Loyal Citizen OR SEDITION LAID OPEN A SATYR Presented to all LOYAL Citizens and Subjects Vivat Rex Floreat Justitiae By J. D. Gent. LONDON Printed for Walter Davis 1682. To all LOYAL Citizens and Subjects COnsidering at this Grand Juncture of Time the base Scandalous Pamphlets both against Majesty and Orthodoxal Divinity the private envy and Aspersions thrown upon so Worthy and Loyal a Person as the Right Honorable the Lord Mayor and the rest of the Loyal Citizens has forc'd me at last to send forth this Satyr under the Patronage of all well-wishing Subjects that you may a little perceive the devout holy Zeal which these envious Whigglanders bear both to Monarchy Church and People wherein you may partly perceive the Miseries all Loyalists suffer'd in the late Rebellious Times and what we are to expect and likely to undergo in case as God forbid of a second Relaps May Heaven of its mercy protect us from it and that our preservation in peace may be both the continual care of Heaven and all our Earthly Magistrates is both the Prayers and Hearty Wishes of your humble faithful fellow Subject and Servant J. D. TO ALL Serious Dissenters If such there be IT is not out of Envy either to you or to any Christian Soul upon Earth that I have writ this short Pamphlet but my real Love that I bear both to you and all my fellow Subjects That you may see how you are led by the Nose drawn into Disloyal Snares by pretended Zeal and an out-side Form of Divinity by those that will speak you fair and dissemblingly to the face and endeavour your ruin behind your backs by those that care not so their interest be preserved if all the rest of the World was destroyed I will entreat so much that you will patiently read it and Seriously consider it and then if you find me blame worthy let some of your Scribling Party Answer it and you shall hear more from him that is both a Lover of his King and Country J. D. THE Loyal Citizen OR SEDITION LAID OPEN A SATYR Presented to all Loyal CITIZENS and SUBJECTS BRave Moor thou glory of this Latter Age How are we bound to thank thee for thy pity Thy noble Spirit boldly dares t' ingage Those Zealots of our once call'd Loyal City Of Factions Fathers right the Factious Son Who wou'd with Jealousies and fears o'rerun Our happy Ile till we were all undone The Churches prayer's whilst they did all repent Cut off the sin ' gainst one Commandement That plainly tells the Fathers sins shall fall Upon the Son's Heaven still prefer ve our Nation Therefore to memory those words recall From Generation to Generation Ha's Heaven been Kinder than we could expect And shall our Zeal Heavens Kindness still neglect And on our Prince whom Heavens preserve reflect 'T is not so long since pray call back to mind Murd'ring the Sire then to the Son be Kind And say once more your Zeal had made you blind 'T was Zeal indeed taught by a homespun Taylor Doctâ—ing that 's next a Kâ—n to what James Naylor In the late times did preaâ—â— ' twâ—s Blasphemy That Naylor taught against our Heaveâ—ly King But Subtle 〈…〉 dealt more craftily He Sought the ruin of an Earthly King Which to our future comforts let all Know Created England Misery and wo. Look to great Moor although our Father's sâ—ns Are taken from us yet our Zeal begins To draw us back unto our Fathers blindness Taught by pretended Zeal dissembling kindness We only want to make our Eighty Two A Forty Eight then after have at you Which if they shou'd Great Heaven protect us still Out of the pow'r of Zealots and their ills Your self must then expect no greater pity Then poor young Royalists from proud Committee In the late Times scarecly a piece of Bread To satisfie their Hunger or a Bed To rest their weary Loyal Bones upon They might as well to Hell have made their moan As unto them for i' faith it was all one Here stands a Baron cringing to a Sadler A Noble Man saluting of a Cobler Makes his Addresses to his Lady Wife Who at the first beginning of her Life Was Dairy Maid unto his loving Mother And once from Hanging sav'd her eldest Brother A Gentleman with Hat in hand salutes A grave Old Broker yet the Fool Coâ—nutes For though that Sequestration made 'em rich It could not keep their Wives T from the Itch But some of those poor Gentlemen through want Was forc'd to be their Drudges and supplant Number of Horns to drain their good Wives purses Their Zealous Wives such was their fatal Curses To work tho' hard for what they knew their own So that to some at last 't was all one grown For they kept Servants and yet paid no wages Hansome Cash-keepers Youthful Grave all Ages But yet they was to their Cash-keepers Pages The grave Committee was their faithful Stewards Their Zealous Wives were Cash-keepers in few They had Estates and yet they had no Land words They had no Money yet money cou'd Command They Servants had yet Servants was their Masters Altho' they Eat their Servants are their Tasters But this good Fate did happen but to some The rest may Gang to France or else to Rome Fine World i' faith must certain Heaven please on Had it raign'd longer we had been deseas'd With all the Plagues of the Antipodes The Fools turn'd Wise the Wise men turned Fools The Children gone to Change Old Men to Schools Lie on the Floor and on us laid our Beds Wore Hat on Heels and walk'd upon out Heads Have Slept all day at night got up to Work Left to be Christians and at last turnld Turk Doubtless a second Babel had been Founded And heaven one more forc'd the earth t' have drowned Or else confus'd their base blaspheming Tongues Made them speak nothing right but all things wrong Instead of Plalms made them sing wanton Songs 'T is coming to 't again My Lord beware We be not drawn into a Second Snare There is just such illit'rate Whining Fellows Puffs out their Non-sence from their Plaugy Bellows They talk of Heaven of Angels and of Saints And in the end against Kings make Complaints They speak of great Jehovah and his Mercies Then presently call out of Popish Farcies They rail at none but follows right their Text Yet Bawls out Plaguyly if they be vext They breath you out O Lord an Hour together Hail Rain or Snow in Sun-shine or foul weather Cries out Beloved Oh! Look to your Lives But never tells 'em that they kiss their Wives O Lord look down on thy distressed Servants His Plaguy Subjects long for great Preferments They wou'd not be called Bishops but wou'd fain Over their Lands create a Second Reign They cry Beloved see poor Englands Teachers They 're Glutton Drunkard Simmonaical Preachers O my Beloved are such men as these Fit to teach Souls or great Jehovah please Why no
they are not but must all Divines Learned and worthy men their fold resign For three or four that 's tax'd with tippling Wine They dare not speak of private sius that's sown But rip up other's faults to hide their own Thy others faults in pulpit brave can Oâ— it But never speaks of Caudles and Sack Posset They with some Zealous Wives in Chamber toss it Slearing and Simpering as they were afraid Stroking the bear Chin cause they want a Beard Drinking the Cuâ—koldo health who waits below And sends his maid his wives pleasure to know At last the zealot to that height is wound That down goes Mistriâ— Zeal on Bed or Ground They tickle one another to that hight Smiling and winking they fall to it streight What does he wink think you to save his eyes Or cause he wou'd not see her Dun-Skin Thighs No 't was the sin of Lerchery to hide O Lord forgive us we saw not what we did A pretty way both Heaven and Earth to Cheat But 't will not pass when 't comes at Judgment Seat When they have done poor Cuckolds call'd to pray'rs Good man for hast he breaks his shins up-stairs Devoutly Kneels at one side of the Room And gravely bow 's assoon as Prayers is done Then sneakingly gives Short-Clock many thanks For his good Prayers and also for his Pranks Then Scrapes a Legg and calmly takes his leave Thus the poor easie Cuckold they deceive Let all be judge who is the greatest winner The publick or the private Cunning Sinner Faith I think neither both at last may have Another punishment besides the Grave They preach against the Clergy take more pains In hopes at last their Livings to obtain But that must be when Monarchs do not Raign Then knowing Monarchy stands in their way It is no marvel they so faintly Pray For Charles and James every good Sabboth day Oh cou'd they get the Staff once more in Hand They'd bridle King and Kingdoms Laws and Land Nay if they durst wou'd Heaven next Command O let them still by Heaven be withstood And valu'd less than Lucifer's ill Brood Those as a Paralel to them I bring Both striving with this difference in the the thing Those gainst their Heavenly But they gainst both their Heaven and Earthly King But yet a King so gracious good and great Makes all our joyes and happiness compleat Those only are excepted that we see Fain wou d be Monarchs Kings as well as he Go on most Loyal Sir to serve your King Your City Country to us comforts bring You have done nothing but what Law directs Those that withstand you may they find neglect Both from their fellow Subjects and their Prince Till they beg pardon for their great offence You have both Laws of God and Man to show For what you do then let the factious know They may to Hell after their Fathers go T is you that next to Majesty must stop The raging Zeal 't is you that are the Prop Supporter and preserver of our â—ightâ— Go on and may Heaven still you Candle Light Encrease your reason and like Mordecai Hammon withstand that wou'd our Peace destroy Base factious Spirits what 〈◊〉 you 'd see Those ills which none but 〈…〉 Have you a mind to see intestine Thunder The Plagues of eating Swords Domestick Plunder See the scorn'd Father striking at his Sone Who without Mercy on their Father runs See the Sons base Revenge upon their Father Who never leave till all lie Dead together Friend fighting friend a brother killing 〈◊〉 Sparing his own blood less than any other Beware beware I say take heed 〈◊〉 Before your Souls feed on such 〈…〉 Let your own reason clear your blindâ—d eyes And as you older are still grow more wise Beware those Monsters that have taught your Zeals First to destroy your 〈…〉 Then brings destruction to 〈…〉 Who never leave whilst all 〈…〉 All greived Loyal souls weep bloody tears To see you drawn by jealousies and fears To act those things must murdâ—ring sorrow bear Is it so long since that you have forgot Can you so soon wash out those Royal spots Of sacred Inn'cent blood O remember Your January was worse than damn'd November One but contriv'd the other Stop't that breath For which we suffered since Fire Sword and Death Yet do your private Teacher dare to say It was the Hand of God my Friends I pray Behold Almighty's Judgments still are just They speak you fair and at the same time thrust A Sword quite up unto the Hilt within Your Bodies yet it does not pierce the skin It is the sword of faction and Rebellion Discord Dissention Plagues that lead to Hell on They have tongues of adders Serpents Snaks aâ—e evils That walk like Saints demurely grave and civil Yet teach and preach damn'd Doctrine fit for Devils Shall we be taught to disobey a Prince Whom Heaven protected can the world convince From Zealots rage and Traytors hands long since Must we be led by th' Nose till Wars are coming By zealous prayer created preach't by cunning Holy Long winded fervent religious men Who seem as inn'cent as the pretty VVâ—en Yet if well try'd we easily may find They unto none but to themselves are kind Envies all happiness but what 's their own Have humble out-sids inwardly o're grown With pride Ambition and self-interest Longing with Crowns themselves for to invest Though to the ruin of all sacred brests For what is Monarchy to them that say They are all Monarchs zealously can pray Such deeds as these if not forbore will bring Once more the Judgments of an Heavenly King Let not Religious Cloak your Bodies cover And under that both Prince and Country Smother To make your selves more hateful and less good Than Oliver and his Rebellious Brood Let not your Loyal fellow subject weep And let my weary Muse retire to sleep Who never can find rest until she sees Your Loyaltie too like the Northern freeze Flame for your Prince in the warm South degrees Let not fond zeal no longer blind our eyes In England to creat new Tragedies Let us not rest until our Souls we find More Loyal grown and to our Prince more kind Endeavouring still to imitate hose Quires That with their Hearts and Harps and sacred Lyres Sing to their Heavenly King who can alone Set who he pleases Kings on Earthly Thrones FINIS