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truth_n heart_n spirit_n word_n 8,255 5 4.2520 3 true
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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

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English Nose If not Adonibezeckt by Just Judgment for his villany Spits forth in Pulpit Superstition Bauls out Rebellion and Sedition Belches more Flames and Fire too Than Mongibel and Strombolo A Kirk-Buffoon can wink and pray And blindfold teach to Bliss the way Heaven's Newsmonger can tell a Tale And bang't about with his Tong-flaile Strengthned by Female-Candles and Fortified with the fat o' th' Land Has good Church-vailes but yet no sense By white-apron'd Benevolence Can squeeze his Eyes close shrivle up Nose Th'Organ through which he sings in Prose Whose Canting makes some laugh some weep And some oft-times fall fast asleep His Preachments stuft with Hums and Haws And patcht up with the Good old Cause That Babe of Grace Brat of their Loins Got 'twixt Scotch and Geneva Groins With Lord in Prayer O Lord thou knowst We know nought Lord Great Lord of Hosts Thus breaking off leaves sense and Wit To be found out by th'Hearers yet Let the Prophane say what they will He makes a Moving-Sermon still And before th' end is left i' th' lurch And People all drop out o' th' Church But some awd Wives 'bout six or seven Just by the Pulpit bound for Heaven But God know's when who all things know's No body else as I suppose If they have none but such Guides blind As these to Cultivate the Mind Crying through zeal Ah Pretious Man How plain when as he first began He made the Text and Context too Both to weak me and eke poor you What work he made on 't Oh such work As might convert a Jew or Turk How he did tumble o'r the Text Tho i' th' Original perplext And mine'd it small to th' end it might Digest with th' weakest Appetite What Comforts nay what Truths Soul-Saving Flow from him worth hearing and having It pierc'd my heart and made me Grone As well as Goody Such-a-one But Aged Dames go to go to You over-do in truth you do For 't has been said b'unlucky spittle You cou'd not hear one word or tittle For you were all born or deaf grown By Sickness not fit to be known He when the Spirit moves can Pray Extrumpore three hours per day And if in all that time of Sense One word drops from him I from thence Forth to hear him will b'always bound Tho I 'd first be set quick i' th' ground He can en cuerpo Prate when Zeal Hath warm'd him throughly and then ree● Cross Diameter o' th' Pulpit role From th' Arctic to th' Antarctic Pole Of his Suggestum teach you th' way Unto Terra Incognita He 's th' walking Monument or Gin Of Actual and Original Sin Who with starcht Gravity and Grace Moves to a holy Cinque-a-pace Nay he can dance Geneva-Jigs To Bagpipes that outsqueak stuck Pigs Yet thinks 't is not when he does do 't The Sensuality o' th' foot If you judge so you 're much i' th' dark 'T is a Zealous Frisk before the Ark Lavalto Capriol or Kick No Mimies or Jack-Puddings Trick He 's no such Person Sir I ll vouch ye But a Religious Mammamouchie Bishop in Surplice worse him scares Than Spirits in sheets or Garden-Bears Hates Choristers with sweet Sol Fa His Tones being ten Notes 'bove Ela But twangs through th' Nose like unset Chimes Hopkins and Sternholds groveling Rhymes Th' Organ well-tun'd brings him to Fits And stare like one quite out of 's Wits Or in plain language Sir a sig For gawdy words glares like dead Pig His upper-Garment's Cap Calot Tipt with white like black Jack or Pot And lin'd with loggerheaded Sot Serjeant Divine o' th' Cois that can Outspawl outspit Asthmatic Man The outer's a black Cloak to hide Knavery Ells two long three wide Which swathes the Corps of Bigot Lad Like Mangie Scot lapt up in Plad Cloak whose base Tenant ne'r was Loyal Nor can endure Duke that 's Royal Cloak that dost all Rebellion shrowd In one that 's Spiritually Proud Cloak that doth walking Treason wrap And sometimes too a Swinging Clap Cloak whose Jack-Pudding-Tricks we know Makes Monarchie a Puppet-Show Cloak who dost hate each Ruling Thing And woud'st set up a Grand-Dogue King Cloak where all Vices crowded dwell Cloak only for the Devil of Hell Therefore I leave thee sans farewell Round Railing Throat he ever wore A Band like that 'bout neck of Moor Which by that Crew is call'd Round-Robin With Bandstrings small dangling like Bobin Wherewith he play 's all 's Pratling while Enuf to make your Worship smile Nay more wer 't not before the Altar Enuf to make Towzer break Halter The ornaments round top of Fist Which some more properly term Wrist Are Cuffs so call'd in number twain Just and no more without Lace Plain Of Sleasy Holland so deep and wide They 'd serve for Muckender hung by 's side To wipe him in 's hot fit no harm I hope and reach to keep him warm Fro' th' Carpus to the middle arm I think I need not make more stir About this Linsey-Wolsey Sir You 'l know him by this Character I think I promis'd it before And therefore I will do 't no more But now I 'm come unto the A Of this untoward Balad-Farse He shall not dye the death of Dog Sans Epitaph or Epilogue Call 't which you please I don't much matter I 'll say as Taffy does Have at her He is a Foe to Prophane people And goes to Houses yclep'd Steeple A Skittish Jade but he 'l not tire Tho as Stew Wh he swinks for hire A Pulpit-Boutefeu Church-Cracker A Fervid painful Cushion-Thwacker The Kirks Fisgig Wildfire or so The States new Cacafuego And so resolve to let him go Now that I have ranged thus far With General Particular Pardon me cause'ts a foolish Trick As well as Roman Catholick I 'l leave them quiet and be gon Resolving to assault poor Don. The first that treads this Burlesque Stage Is the State-Mimick of our Age A pretty Pigmy lank with care Like Jugler looks in Bartle-Fair Or th' Chitty-fac'd poor thing appears When Hors'd like Creature before Bears He winks to understand the Sense Of what is given in Evidence With ominously Neck awry Wou'd you know faith I know not why On whom kind Nature did engrave The true proverbial mark of Kn Who winks with one eye looks with t'other 'S not to be trusted though nown Brother All Creatures hear with Ears you lye For little Tony hears with 's eye No Treason's this nor Blasphemy A winking pinking dapper Don Sire of th' Association A Brat o' th' little Lord's cold brains Methinks th' Abhorrers of such strains At length shou'd shame this Pygmie-Elf To an Abhorrence of himself The Issue both of 's Head and Tail If weakness can beget a Male Or be so weapon'd with a Tool To make a Child I shou'd say Fool Compare and then let me prevale With you to hear me out my Tale. The Son 's Purse-proud and Fortune-fat Now Fortune favours you kno what The