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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A34243 Lucida intervalla, containing divers miscellaneous poems, written at Finsbury and Bethlem by the Doctors patient extraordinary. Carkesse, James, fl. 1679. 1679 (1679) Wing C577; ESTC R8004 16,361 72

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up the Church Is to pull down the Chappel o' th' Devil Then throw the House out at Window And lay it flat with the Ground For undoubtedly they Sin do That keep it another Year round The Doctor his Argument urges This Parson must needs be Mad For on him neither Vomits nor Purges Any Influence have had Fond Doctor you beg the Question And you might have spar'd your pains For my Blood 's from a good digestion And your Physick is lost in my Veins Nay I prescrib'd Chains of Iron To take him off of his Mettle But Brass did him environ He had rub'd his Face with a Kettle My Fetters they were but Straw To the Sinews of his Armes And he burst Bars and Doors as I saw By I know not what mighty Charmes Moreover I him in the Hole As under a Bushel confin'd Lest God's Word the Light of the Soul In my Mad-house should have Shin'd Ne're the less into the Dungeon He let in the Rayes of the Sun And i' th' Pit where him I did plunge in Made Night and Day meet in one In a place I did him stow Where Rats and Mice do swarm These by Instinct the Madmen know And therefore do them no harm Now as Weasel Squirrel and Ermine Are then Rats of a higher strain Rats and Mice the nobler Vermine Might awe the Worm in his Brain Yet he fear'd lest the Rats and Mice Of his Senses should bereave him Therefore I taking good advice Sent Catmore in to Relieve him I laid him in Straw for a Bed Lest Feathers should make him light-headed That there his wild Oats he might shed And again to his Wits be wedded Without either Shirt or Cloaths I lodg'd my merry Mad Youth For of Kin we may well suppose The Sober to Naked-Truth His Diet was most of it Milk To reduce him again to a Child And Butter as soft as Silk To smooth the Fierce and the Wild. My Potions he turn'd into Drenches For he freely would take ne're a jot But by Thomas and the Wenches They were forced down his Throat To feel his Pulse I never thought I a Month I see him but once And how my Mad Physick has wrought If I know in the least I 'm a Dunce For in Truth and sober sadness This Parson I found so smart That I fear'd his Wit more than his madness The March-Hare I never dare start My Chirurgeon he fiercely withstood And he led him such a Dance That to let this same Gown-man Blood A Sword was more fit than a Lance. I order'd his Keeper at Large On occasion to ply him with Blows That what Iugular did not discharge The mad Blood might come out at his Nose Enough Doc has done his Endeavour It must be confest though a weak one His Wits gather Wool for a Beaver But he 's no Fool to speak on However I 'le Sue out his Pardon The man 's not so much to be blam'd For to make a Swan white is unheard on And Sobriety never was tam'd Then pray all the mad-Devil ne're touch you Nor yet the Cholick or Tissick Pray MUFTI and MAMAMOUCHI Mr. Parson and Doctor of Physick His Apology Doctor you must where I severely Gibe To my Poetick Fury Gall ascribe And Pardon that I make in this New Trance Among your Rats and Mice my Satyre Dance Quod medicum mordace tuum mea Carmina vellant Dente tuus Vati donet Apollo furor Nec Mures inter poterit culpare Machaon Si Satyram jubeat jungere Musa Choros On his being Seiz'd on for a Mad-man only for having endeavoured to reduce Dissenters unto the CHURCH WHen Zeal for God inspires the Breast Says the Blind world the Man 's possest And flattering their own cold desire Call Lunacy the Heavenly Fire But though their Eyes are by the Flame So dasled they mistake the Name Know that 't was born with Christ at first In Bethlehem and at Bedlam Nurst To God the Father and the Son And Holy Spirit three in one By Men and Angels be there given All Glory both in Earth and Heaven On the late Horrid Plot. OF this late Hellish Damnable and to joyn Both in one word Papistical Design What Purgatory can wash out the Spot It shames and even blows up the Powder-Plot We therefore hope it is the last effort Of Popery dying in City and in Court And in this juncture that She times her end The Martyr Godfrey's Funeral to attend Fanaticism too which kept her Ground By Popish Policy dies o' th' self-same Wound Thus Martyrs Blood of old the Churches Seed In Corn grown up kills every noisom Weed May then the Church of England spight of Rom Receive new Life and Vigour from his Tomb And Conquering the joynt force of Her and He To Catholick Christian World with Triumph tell Infallibility is her self mistaken And treacherous Peter now by Christ forsake The Cross Match When Abigail by mistake had Layman Married In State Affairs 't was seen he oft miscarried Yet a long time Nub's Spouse put on no Gown But Hector'd it with Sword and Muff in Town Convinc'd at last though Poets him made a Farce on He 'd turn his Coat that Nab might have her Parson This done her Mar-text she suppos'd she had And when he talk'd of Preaching thought him Mad Down to the Conventicle brisk he goes Resolv'd to Rout the Church of Englands Foes But words were th' only Weapons of his War Love and Zeal led the Van no Wound or Scar From such a Skirmish fear none Blood can lose Where Church is nam'd for common Rendezvous Where Peace alone is aim'd at not a Fight Both sides to Yield and Forces Re-unite That England may for Caesars Triumphs hope A late Revenge on Rome by Conquer'd Pope But th' Enemy to frustrate this Designe Contrive Nab's Spouse to silence and confine This Trumpeter's Horn-mad they strait give out And making Nab o' th' Plot her Martext rout To Mad-Quack all agreed they him commit By Hellebore to restore his ne're lost Wit Quack hugs himself with the conceit secure He should great credit get by Parson's Cure To work he goes Proclaims him Mad at Court And spreads the Noise to make the City sport Then half a year the Patient keeps in hand A Chirurgeon's Son he is pray understand But now observe how basely Doc's defeated And for Mad-Parson with a Poet cheated By whom Lampoon'd mad-Quack is forc'd to say Madness and Wit act one part in the Play And thus these three Fanatick Wife and Doctor In Bedlam me to keep make up the Proctor Jackstraws Progress When Publican in Pharisees old house Shut doors on me and Finnesbury Mad Louse With Arms in sleeve of Gown redoubled stroke To open Bedlam-gates I windows broke Then in my Charet Triumphant Rode away As well assur'd that I had got the day That this had storm'd the Castle call'd Iackstraws Arch-Traytor unto Reason and her Laws 'T is nam'd from Bethlehem now possest by Turk '