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A50633
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Mercuries message, or, The coppy of a letter sent to William Laud, late Archbishop of Canterbury, now prisoner in the Tower
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1641
(1641)
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Wing M1748; ESTC R19541
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3,886
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9
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MERCURIES MESSAGE OR THE COPPY OF A LETTER sent to William Laud late Archbishop of CANTERBVRY now prisoner in the Tower PROV. 11. 10. When it fares well with righteous men The City is glad and joyfull then But when with Wicked it fares ill Ther 's none of them take pitty will JOB 27. 23. Clapping of hands with joy there is apace Hissing them out of there great Lordly place JOB 32. 9. The great ones are not alwaies wise Who in great pompe and state do rise Printed in the yeare of our Prelates feare 1641. REVELL. 13. 16. The man that understanding hath Behold and see the Scripture saith The number of the Beast is numbered And comes unto the sum Six hundered Sixty and six the name here writ amounts Vnto the same if we doe rightly count The beasts number The mans name is the worlds wonder With beasts the same W 10 L 50 I 1 A 0 L 50 V 5 L 50 D 500 666. Revelat. 19. 20. Into the lake the beast was cast Which never dyes but everlasting lasts It burnes with brimstone and with fire According to Gods dreadfull ire TO The late famous now Infamous Arch-Bishop WILLIAM a CANTERBVRY MY LORD I Call you what not long agoe you were But now those golden dayes are past I feare And so doth all the drooping Hierachy Of Lordly Bishops that er'e while so high Bore up theirs heads to show themselves superiors And proudly trod upon their poore inferiors How did you Domineere in your vaine pride Whilst in prosperity you did abide With envious Rage and foule maliciousnesse Striving to bring Gods people in distresse Downe went all painefull and laborious teaching The Service Booke more usefull was then preaching In your account having an Inclination With Popish rites to blind our Brittish nation But men of sounder Judgement know full well That Gods pure word mans wisedome doth excell And yet for sooth your will being a Law Men better then your selfe you kept in aw Well next our weekely Lectures lik't you not To put downe them your zeale was wondrous hot It seemes your Lordship had conceivid a thought And feard poore Ignorants would too much be taught And so your Soule deludements learne to see When with Roomes 〈◊〉 doth no whit agree Else you might thinke with plenty being fed They might have loath'd that heavenly bread For men by Solomons rule may 〈◊〉 get If finding honey they too much on 't eat Therefore your Grace tooke a sure course for such Y' ad rather see them starve then have too much But now the Sabboth day in your esteeme Is kept too strictly this a fault you deeme For squaring thus our actions by Gods word We with the Papists never should accord Therefore by smooth false base Insinuation You did perswade the King by Proclamation To give his subjects leave to sport and play In spight of all gainsayers on that day This done one Sermon must content us to And that but one houre long for if men do Exceed their time prescrib'd tho their intention Be ne're so good they may expect suspention In all which did not we Religion fly With Roome observe a sweet close simpathy But is this all no Altars next you raise And waxen Tapers must upon them blaze Yea in these heapes of Stone such worth is found That passers by must bow to 'em downe toth' ground Is Jesus with a large pronunciation Vttered by some time serve't being the fashion Legs Congjes Bowings wait upon that name In outward Adoration of the same Indeed the Countrey did this trick refuse Because their scraping spoyl'd their Sunday shoo 's Besides being full of Nayles and Iron specks They made a Parish charge to buy new bricks To ratifie all this Cannons are made And yet I thinke the Authors are not paide For that good worke of theirs but let that pas This Parliament then never dreampt of was Or if it were and things had come toth' worst Perhaps you thought to dash it like the first Therefore in uncontrouled pride you raign'd Vertue oppos'd all vices you maintain'd Which made men thinke you had an itching hope To be some Cardinall or little Pope Whereby an ancient Proverb 's verifide Beggers if set on horse backe love to ride Did any Minister detest these things To see you Bishops rule like petty Kings Did they out of true zeale and conscience sake A scruple of your Popish orders make Crosse Surplice Tippet would they not allow To high Altar did they scorne to bow Was there no outward signe of Reverence showne When Jesus was pronounc'd and that made knowne To your Lordship straight off went th' offenders eares Though nere so old no pitties tooke of yeares Your worships pillary must their necks adorne A triple Tree they say shall serve your turne They peepe through wooden windowes as for you Gregory has a hempen Lattice faire and new Men hope to see you mounted er'e you die I 'm sorry for 't my Lord but cannot crie Sure your well wishers hymmes of praise will sing To see you goe to Heaven in a string Or if not so the common people sweare You 'l grace the Block as well as your compere Others suppose that a Clothworkers son Shall never have such honour to him don Thus all men censure none cares what they say Pusse being cag'd the Mice may freely play So in a Country pasture have I seene The little Lambkins skipping on a greene Whilst the poore wolfe lies tangled in the net The carefull Sheapheard for his ruine set This is the talke my Lord that goes about He 's nobody now a dayes that cannot flout Imprison'd Canterbury when 't is cleare Your back 's tomorrow all these quips to beare Oh had your thoughts and stature but agreed Together then all had beene well indeed But when such Pigmy Lords as you will cherish Ambitious great desires both lightly perish How true this happens to your helpelesse wo And sad destruction sure I am you know For now y 're falling 't is the generall cry Downe with him Tyrant fie upon him fie Blest were the man could light on such good hap To beate our's eyes with 's Babylonian cap. Thus are our wits imploy'd early and late With some quient leere to breake your Graces pate We scorne saies one his vices to applaud We know the Divill must have little Laud O saies a second he 's a gallant prize And by his fall young Gregory will rise Who sweares when Surplice Lawn sleeves h' as got Hee le send Romes Strumpet a veneriall smock As for the Song which goes Blue cap for mee Hee 'l have it chang'd to Black cap that 's his fee Lastly to passe all others some suppose You have a trick of art to fetch backe those Shew'd us their Heeles where ever they remaine Or else be hang'd when you come backe againe I know you have a great desire to doe it Could you perswade the Parliament unto it But were you sent on