Selected quad for the lemma: truth_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
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A54783
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A satyr against hypocrites
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Phillips, John, 1631-1706.
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1655
(1655)
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Wing P2101; ESTC R19268
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15,563
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28
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tarry But unto Babylon thy dinner carry There doth young Daniel want in the Den Thrown among Lyons by hard-hearted men Here my Beloved and then he reaches down His hand as if he 'd catch the Clerk by th'crown Not to explain this pretious Text amiss Daniel's the subject Hunger th' object is Which proves that Daniel was subject to hunger But that I may'nt detain you any longer My Brethren dear prick up your ears and put on Your senses all while I the words unbutton Make haste I say make haste and do not tarry Why my Beloved these words great force do carry Au 't is a waundrous emphatical speech Some men Beloved as if th 'had lead i' their breech Do walk some creep like Snails they 're so sloe pac't Truly my Brethren these men do not make haste But be ye quick dear Sisters be ye quick And lest ye fall take hope hope 's like a stick To babylon Ah Babylon that word 's a weighty one Truly 't was a great City and a mighty one Which as the learned Rider well records Semiramis did build with brick and bords Wicked Semiramis accursed Bitch My spirit is mightily provok'd against that wretch Lustful Semiramis for will I wist Thou wert the mother of proud Antichrist Nay like to Levi and Simeon from antiquity The Pope and thee were Sisters in iniquity Strumpet Semiramis like her was non For she built Babylon Ah! she built Babylon But Brethren be ye good as she was evil Must ye needs go because she 's gone to the Devil Thy dinner carry Here may we look upon A childe of God in great affliction Why what does he aile Alas he wanteth meat Now what Beloved was sent him for to eat Truly a small matter only a dish of pottage But pray what pottage Such as a small cottage Afforded only to the Country swains From whence though not a man the place explains 'T is guess'd that neither Christmas pottage 't was Nor white-broth nor capon-broth good for sick maws Or milk-porrage or thick pease-porrage either Nor was it mutton-broth nor veal broth neither Nor any broth of noble tast or scent Made by receipt of the Countess of Kent But sure some homely stuff crum'd with brown-bread And thus was Daniel good Daniel fed Truly this was but homely fare you 'l say Yet Daniel good Daniel was content that day And though there could be thought-on nothing cheaper Yet fed as well on 't as he had been a reaper Better eat any thing than not at all Fasting Beloved why 't is prejudiciall To the weak Saints Beloved 't is a sin And thus to prove the same I here begin Hunger Beloved why this hunger mauls Au 't is a great mauler it breaks stone-walls Now my Beloved to break stone-walls you know Why 't is flat felony and there 's great woe Follows that sin besides 't is a great schism 'T is ceremonious 't is Pagan Judism Judism why Beloved have you ere been Where the black Dog of Newgate you have seen Hair'd like a Turk with eyes like Antichrist He doth and hath ye Brethren long entic't Claws like a Star-chamber Bishop black as hell and doubtless he was one of those that fell Judism I say is uglier than this curr Though he appear'd wrapt up in Bear-skin furr Thrown among Lyons by hard-hearted men Here Daniel is the Church the World 's the Den. By Lyons are meant Monarchs Kings of Nations Those worse than heathenish abominations Truly dear friends these Kings and Governours These Bishops too nay all superiour powers Why they are Lyons Locusts Whales I Whales beloved Off goes our ears if once their wrath be moved But woe unto you Kings woe to your Princes 'T is fifty and four now Antichrist so says My Book must reign three days and three half days Why that is three years and a half beloved Or else as many precious men have proved One thousand two hundred and threescore dayes Why now the time 's almost expir'd time stayes For no man friends then Antichrist shall fall Then down with Rome with Babel down with all Down with the Devil the Pope the Emperour With Cardinals and th' King of Spain's great power They 'l muster up but I can tell you where At Armageddon there Beloved there Fall on fall on kill kill haloo haloo Kill Amalek and Turk kill Gog and Magog too But who dear friends fed Daniel thus forsaken Truly but there 's one sleeps a would do well to waken As 't is in th' English his name ends in uck And so his name is called Habacuck But in th' original it ends in Ock For that dear Sisters calls him Have-a-Cock And truly I suppose I need not fear But that there are many Have-a-Cocks here The Laud increase the number of Have-a-Cocks Truly false Prophets will arise in flocks But as a â—arding-candle shut up quite In a dark Lanthorn never giveth light Even such are they Ay but my breathren dear I 'm no such Lanthorn for my horns are clear But I shall now conclude this glorious truth With an Exhortation to old men and youth Be sure to feed young Daniel that 's to say Feed all your Ministers that preach and pray First of all 'cause 't is good I speak that know so And by experience find 't is good to do so Fourthly 'cause 't is not evil Nextly and Thirdly For that 't is very good unless the Word lye Sixthly for that y' are mov'd thereto and Twelfthly 'Cause there 's nought better unless I my self lye But now he smells the Pyes begin to reak His teeth water and he can no longer speak Only it will not be amiss to tell ye How he was troubled with a womans belly For she was full of caudle and devotion Which in her stomach raised a commotion For the hot vapours much did damnifie Her that was wont to walk in Finsbury So though a while she was sustain'd with ginger Yet at the length a cruel pain did twinge her And like as marble sweats before a shower So did she sweat and sweating forth did pour Her mornings draught of Sugar-sops and Saffron Into her sighing neighbours Cambrick apron At which a Lard she cry'd full sad to see The foul mishap yet suffer'd patiently How do you then she cry'd I 'me glad 't is up Ah sick sick sick cryes one Oh for a cup Of my mint water that 's at home As patt as might be then the Parson cry'd 'T is good one holds her head let 't come let 't come Still crying just i' th' nick the Priest reply'd Yea like a stream ye ought to let it flow And then she reach'd and once more let it go Streight an old woman with a brace of chins A bunch of keys and cushion for her pins Seeing in earnest the good woman lack it Draws a Strong-water bottle