Selected quad for the lemma: truth_n
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A07673
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A counter-buff to Lysimachus Nicanor: calling himself a Jesuite. By Philopatris
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Mure, William, Sir, 1594-1657.
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1640
(1640)
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STC 18062; ESTC S112841
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8,111
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18
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sport Of sacred Scripture and a nose of wax Causing her rayes on dunghills to reflex Thus God the King Nobles and people be Scorn'd wrong'd detract'd and rail'd upon by thee What this deserves let justice to it look There needs no ditty but cast up thy book Yet since thou didst divinity professe As by those ragged rapsodies I guesse From Davids mouth thine errours I proclaime Unto the world ar symbols of thy shame First in a scorners chaire thou sits and thus Thou art denyde these blessings pour'd on us Did ever scorne flow from so foule a mouth As his who flouts and scoffes Gods sacred truth And next thou shalt not in Gods tents abide Nor in his all o're-topping hill reside Since thou hast loos'd the arrows of thy tongue And done thy Countrey and thy neighbour wrong King David hates a two tongu'd hypocrite And these that in malicious lyes delite Thou stiles thy self a Jesuite and so For a diguised lyar thou must go That Kingly prophet truely hath foretold That thy sharp'd tongue which is and hath been bold The righteous to traduce shall silenc'd be Hath not this judgement justly ceas'd on thee And of those curses thou shalt have a share Which 'gainst false witnesses pronounced are Thou art a witnesse false and strives to move Our Prince to quite his ancient Kingdomes love Thou art prohibit with thy lips profane Gods sacred will and precepts to explaine Since thou hast datted flames of infamie Against their fame who brethren were to thee But here I pause and leaves the rest to those Who more exact can pay thee home in prose Who shall uncace thy waires let all men know That they be not upright though seeming so I 'le onely point at some unwarrant'd places Which 'mongst thy Paralels thou interlaces In down right termes in speeches plain and free Thou dares defend that thrice damn'd Liturgie Which had almost intoxicate our State But is abolish'd and supprest of late Which is in sound in sence in words expresse The smooth fram'd modell of an English masse Yet thou forsooth must by thy pen defend it Though King and Church hath simply it suspendit Thus sure thou wouldst if urg'd thereto maintaine The Jewish talmude Turkish alcorane In these fore-going theams thou proves that we Preasse to supplant a sure-fixt Monarchie But in the following head thou speaks beguesse And leaves the great point brands us with the lesse Forgetfull that a base and lying slave A good and ready memorie should have In this our hainous cryme thou qualifies And looses some small shots of calumnies Where greatest should be last shows our intent To loose the raynes of Church governement That Church affairs should not be rull'd by Kings With many moe absurd and futill things So that thou seems to quite what 's first and past And by correcting takes thee to the last But to that speech we answer all in one Our King 's chief ruler of the Church alone And hath such power in that government As is explain'd by acts of Parliament From which true Subjects never can debord So of both states he is the Soveraigne Lord Then with a daring boldnesse thou reviles That sacred name and with base skurrill stiles Though in a roguish comick jesting sort Thou makes of it a sceane a skuff a sport And calls him onely executioner Of laws and worse a servile officer Or H. and least that this for thine should go Thou scoffing tells that men will say it 's so Thus trac'd thou hast by thy pernicious pen What never yet was said or thought by men A fellow here was pinioned on hie Convict for high contempt of Majestie Whiles his Prince portrature expos'd to seal He on a gibbet hung fixt with a naile And though the poore soule harbour'd no intent His King to wrong yet his dire punishment So precious is the shadow of a King Was seal'd that he on that curst tree should hing And that the long-fixt tree should be o're throwne Burnt and its ashes in the aire be blowne How can our Prince then brook that round-spun speech Whiles thou makes men compare him to an H Till the like doome passe on thy book and thee As on that pannell and his fatall tree Then thou at randome runnes in full carriers Darting thy spite against our noble Peirs Against our Pastours and the common sort Extracts the Chimick substance of a sport And like that houling hel-hound Cerberus Thou barks not simply at our cause and us But dares disgorge thy hell invenom'd splen Against the splendor of heroick men Shall famous Lesly now become the scope Of thy envy or thinks thou to unprope His sure fixt worth whose truely noble spirit Whose wit-mixt valour whose transcending merit Hath imp't his vertue in the wings of fame And rear'd eternall trophies to his name Is tryde to be and so styl'd in all parts A never conquer'd conquerour of hearts Is woo'd by kings who would their states assure From all disasters so they could procure His stay with them by his directive aid In all exploits to be their martiall head Then here thy tainted conscience is appeal'd If thou esteem him truely paralel'd With damn'd Loyola authour of that sect Who did such hyreling as thy self infect With bloud-imbrued maximes of Estate For that red front thy war presaging hate The programe of thy book declares a will So thou hadst power thy mothers bloud to spill Since each draught of Loyola limn'd by thee And thus compared proves an arrant lie As who would paralell this raying light With that dark shaddow of the sable night Or purer white with black or good with evill Man with a beast an angel with a devill It 's known our Generall is of noble birth Of famous parents sprung in place and worth Excelling whiles they liv'd but in their son Thryce happy two that left us such a one To whom the heavens their treasures did impart A Cupids body and a Marses heart Of mixt heroick gifts a sympathie Courage with grace valour with modestie Then like a swinish base pedantick slave Thou makes thy snout dig in a Matrons grave Snuff at her asses though now ne're there be Since she did change her mansion lusters three Blinde mole taine in thy work harsh screaching oule Thou bankrupt chyding beast thou envy's soule That strives to byte heavens guest a glorious ghost Who in Coelestiall boures amid the host Of glory raying angels doth receave Such joyes as God can give or man can crave Curst be thy pen curst thy immortall hate For envie should prove stinglesse after fate So all thou writes are hellish calumnies Which take their influence from the prince of lies Curse not the deaf this sacred text I finde Nor cast a stumbling block before the blinde The Lord forbids thee this the precept 's plaine I 'le not obey thou answers him again But will offend and curse thy words are clear The blinde and deaf that neither see nor hear And thus far I the rest I leave to those Whose divine thoughts and pen can well disclose Thy devilish caball hell-inspired Art And snares to trap thy mother pierce her heart That pasquiller that would me thus disgrace And with such spyte spit in his mothers face Gods curse attends him threatned by his word O then I crave that Justice scales and sword May weigh and punish may my native Prince Try and revenge his guilt and his offence And now thou King of kings inthron'd above By whom Kings raigne by whom they live and move Inspire in my Prince breast a sprite of peace And shoure on him thy favours and thy grace Command Lord thy Vice-gerent tell him plain He should thy truth and calme of peace maintain He cannot force belief let him secure Thy divine worship here as true and pure Appease his wrath let not my Lyon roare Nor dart his thunder on his native shore So we shall praise Thee who for ever raignes And whose transcending power all powers restraines FINS Plinius secundus M. Thomas Rosse I. 6. p. 11. c. 49. Eips de militia Rom. dial 2. L. 3. F. de Just. jure L. Scientiae 49. 4. F. ad L. Aquil. Terent. Bacon Es. say 29. Rabelais cals them so Psal. 1. 1. Psal. 15. 3. Ps. 26. 4. Pl. 31. 18. Ps. 35. 11. Ps. 50. 16. Ps. 50. 20. Paral. 2. Paral. 3. Epanorthosis J. 6. p. 18. c. 1. p. 20. c. 6. Pag. 11. This was Ard. Cornuall a town officer Rachel Arnot Levit. 19. 14. Who thus complains of her unnaturall son personating a Jesuite and who hath dispersed under that guise false calumnies against the whole Estates of Scotland and so deserves that punishment set down in Scripture Exod. 21. 17.
A COVNTER-BVFF TO Lysimachus Nicanor Calling himself a Jesuite By PHILOPATRIS Nescio qua natale solum dulcedine cunctos Ducit immemores non sinit esse sui Printed Anno Domini 1640. A COVNTER-BVFF TO Lysimachus Nicanor A pretended Iesuite I Cannot now but give my grief a tongue Since innocence and vertue suffer wrong Since calumnie and fals-hood strive to wound Our Mothers breast and purpose to confound That Covenant the Popish hyrelings foyle Heavens herauld sent to blesse North-Britains soyle A band of truth and power the Prelats baine Which with our dearest bloud we will maintaine As sworne Gods purer worship to defend Our King to serve our straying faults to mend Illustrius Trajan though a pagane prince After much bloud of Christians did dispence With the remainder of that Heaven-blest band Who through a Red sea fraungh'd their long'd-for land Whiles by proconsull Plinie he was inform'd That Christians in their lives were more reform'd Nor then was vented forth by false report And that in sober way they did resort To privat meetings whereunto their God They sweetly sang some divine hymne or ode Committing nothing worthie Caesars wrath Whence all inditements sentences of death Were straight repeal'd and Christians were set free Dispenc'd to brook peace truth and libertie The like our hope and trust assures us shall Unto our native homebred Caesar fall Whiles by some worthie Plin it shall be told him That in the armes of love we still infold him That the pure incense of our sacred prayers Maugre the spite and pryde of all gainsayers Is daily for his safety powred forth And since no earthly thing is of more worth Nor life and fortunes we shall both imploy For thryce-blest Charles the center of our joy So that we brook in full integritie With peace and truth our ancient libertie Then false Lysimachus thou runnigate That seems to pry into the soule of state That personates a subtile Jesuite And yet art known a homebred parasite That hath belcht forth a rapsodie of lies And 'gainst thy Countrey false coyn'd calumnies Thou by our Statutes hast deserv'd to die An ignominious death for such a lie As may breed discord 'twixt the King and State Is death here many laws I may repeat And practicks too but these are all so clear As need no glossing Onely I will here Touch one for all A Scot of ancient race A schollar too as thou art liv'd a space In Englands Court and for some privat hate A pasquill did against his Countrey wreat As thou hast done in fouler sort more full Of vil'd aspersions from thy phrantick skull Well then King Iames of lasting memorie Who could not brook that any calumnie Should be asperst upon his native land After some tryall there he gave command The Lybeller should home go and sustaine Of doome unpartiall laws th' unpitied paine And here being try'd judg'd and adjudg'd they fand That he should losse his head and faultie hand Which straight was done in publick view and so I thinke the matter with thy self will go For we do sure expect our Soveraigne Will send thee home that here thou may'st sustaine Due punishment But since that thy offence Is worse nor his the judges may dispence With headings blow and make thee climbe the top Of some curst tree come down into a rope Nor shall this one jest more in silence rote Which carelesse I had now almost forgot Of a Polonian Swaine more curious Nor wise or learn'd call'd Stercovius Hither he came clade all in antique sort Where seen in streets the subject of a sport He soone became to childish gazers who With skriechs and clamours hiss him to and fro Till forc'd he was with shame and speed to pack him And to his feet and loathsome cabin take him Where in a furious and chollerick mood He nothing breath'd but fire revenge and bloud And fondly swore our nations overthrow He should adventure with a suddain blow Of his both pregnant and pernicious pen Like to a fierce and fearfull powder traine Thus fraught with furie home to Pole he goes To wreak his splen on his imagin'd foes And there his pen he loos'd and with more spite Nor hell had taught him thoughts he did indite A legend of reproaches stuf't with lies Was bold to print and vent those calumnies Against the Scots their manners and their fame Of purpose to obscure their splendide name In all that Esterne clyme and tract of ground Where squadrons of our Nation did abound Whence some choise men of ours did take in hand To supplicat the Princes of that land Their wrong for to redresse so with great paine Great search and length of time their point they gaine For all vaste Teutons states the Spruch the Dan Dispatch and arme with power some trustie man Stercovius to pursue in any ground Take and arraigne him where he may be found Which is with great turmoile and travell done Yet things well acted are performed soone For this slie fox hunted from hole to hole At length is catch't and unresolv'd did thole His head divorce which from his body fell Low to the ground his soule I cannot tell Which way it went for most unworthie I That should into th' Eternals secrets pry Now since by law of Nations forraigne Princes Have granted patents throughout their Provinces A slanderer thus to take and apprehend Who did a stranger Nation vilipend What shall our Soveraigne do when it be's known How falsely thou hast lyed against thine own But now thy piece I must anatomize And try with Linxes sight what therein lyes First for the bulk though spacious to the eye It 's pesterd with a full hydropisie And from a liver rotten drencht and spent Poyson for bloud throughout the veines are sent The frontespiece unmaskes an hypocrite While thou strives to play the Jesuite Whence in egregious sort thou lies and fails In every point of thy false paralels Daring compare our true reformed land Unto the bloud-hound hell-inspired band Of those who still are hatching dreadfull things And hunt the precious lives of sacred Kings Next with what impudent and flintie face Thou makes the bloudy league a leading cace To our blest Covenant the powerfull mean God and our Kings true service to maintain For of that league was not a monster made A French-like body with a Spanish head Which broach'd that traiterous blot by hels devise To shake and sack the glorious flowre de Lice They traitours were times stories sure relate To God and man to Prince and to the state We paternes here of love of truth of zeal Oppos'd right in a contrare paralell Have vow'd and sworne our lives and goods to spend Gods truth our Prince and countrey to defend So are thy words like flowres but sap or roote Which onely to repeat is to confute Again thou say'st we sympathize with thee And strive t' ecclypse the rayes of Majestie Pressing what 's proper unto God