my Zenith and go hence To waile this fruitlesse howers misexpence And pray to heaven that heaven would please to keep Such Goats still separated from my sheep EGLOGVE IX Iudex Romastix Flambello JUD THis is the place the hower this the tree Beneath whose hospitable shades must be This challeng'd combat But the champions stay Exceeds their limits 'T is an equall lay That neither come they were so hot last night 'T is like their quarrell ended with the light But who comes yonder Look methinks't should be By 's gate Romastix No 't is not 't is he Me thinks his posture prophecies of Palmes Before th' encounter see how sweat imbalmes His varnisht Temples How each envious pace Vies to be first and eches for the place He 's neer at hand Champion let faire applause Crown your intended combat let your Cause Thrive as it merits let this morning jarre Bring forth an Evening peace the Child of warre Let Truth prevaile at last and let heaven send First a faire Enemy next a faithfull Friend ROM Thanks gentle Iudex for the last I durst Assure my selfe in thee but where 's the first Where 's our brave Enemy whose very breath Last night could puffe an Heretick to death Then by the vertue of St. Francis name Could snatch a well broyl'd soule from the sad flame Of Purgatory from the sulph'rous flashes Of hells hot Suburbs and inspire his ashes With a new Catholike soule whose knee shall gain Salvation from a Puppit for the pain Of twenty Pater nosters and thrice seaven Repeated Ave's to the Queen of heaven But look Am I deceiv'd Or doe I see Our Boanarges comming JUD Sure 't is hee ROM 'T is he Heaven grant that his discourse may trace A measure but as sober as his pace Lord how his tongue last evening shot at rover Sometimes how wide it shot How sometimes over How like a new broke Colt he pranc'd about Sometimes stept orderly sometimes flew out His hot-mouth'd argument would for a space Srike a good stroke then straight forsake his pace How his discretion sunk while his tongue floted His wit falsegallop'd while his judgment trotted But here he comes JUD The blessings of the day Greets thee FLAM And let the glory of the fray Crown my triumphant Browes with conquest ROM stay Take my God-morrow first and then inherit stay The Crown that shall be purchas'd by thy merit And justnesse of thy well defended cause FLAM The like to thee JUD But let the chief applause Be given to Truth which must and will prevaile How ever you defend or he assaile She does not like a thredbare Client sue For help nor does her cause subsist by you But like a Queen sits in her Palace royall To judge betwixt the Rebel and the Loyall Then quit your selves and let the day proclame Who 's the true Subject Truth is still the same Romastix this your first arrivall here Gives you precedence you shall truely sweare No private grudge nor no malicious end Of base revenge did move you to contend In these fair lists no itch of vaine applause But a true thirst t' advance the publike cause ROM I doe JUD And you Flambello too shall sweare You try this combat with a conscience cleare From by-respects of preadvised hate Or spleen of later or of elder date And that you aime not at a private foe But at the glory of the Truth FLAM I doe JUD Then Champions too t you cannot be too stern In Truths behalfe 't is best to be altern For mutuall language works a faire conclusion Truth is the Queene of order not confusion ROM I here appeach Flambello as a High Traitor to the sacred Crown and dignity Of Soveraign Truth a Rebel to her Lawes A private Iudas to the publike Cause FLAM Blisters o th' tongue that speaks it He that durst Proclaim and not maintain it be accurst ROM They 'r Traitours rob their Soveraign of their due You doe the same and therefore such are you FLAM You argue with lesse Charity then Art Your halting Minor 's false as your own heart ROM He that invests another in the Throne Of Truth or owns a Prince but Truth alone Robs his own Soveraign But such are you You therefore rob your Soveraign of her due FLAM You plead for Truth and yet you speak beside The Text of Truth your Minor is denyed ROM They that prefer their own brain-bred Traditions Before her perfect Laws make here additions And there Abstractions from her sacred hests Depose the old and a new Prince invests But you prefer Traditions therefore you Depose the old Prince and invest a new FLAM The selfe-same Spirit that inspir'd the words Of holy Prophets in old time affords Vndoubted Truth to the most just Traditions Of holy Councels whose divine Commissions Make it a perfect Truth which they averre Confirmed by a Head that cannot erre ROM Admit all this Can very Truth take place Of very Truth Has Truth a double face How can the wav'ring will of man be guided Betwixt two Sp'rits at least one Sp'rit divided But say upon what shoulders grows that Head That cannot erre that cannot be misled What is he Where is his abode That I May bow my knees and worship ere I dye FLAM It is our holy Father He that keeps The keys of heaven and of th' Infernall deeps He that has power with those sacred keyes To open heaven and lock it when he please To open Hels broad portals and let out His dire Anathemaes to scourge the stout Rebellious heart and Legions to devour All such as will not prostrate to his Powre And high Omnipotency but rebell Against the Chamberlain of Heaven ROM And Hell But tell me to what sort of souls does he Expand the Gates of heaven FLAM To such as be Obedient to his laws whose purged hearts Have felt the flames of Purgatory and smarts Of holy Penance that observe and do All things his Holinesse enjoyns them to The Gates of Heaven stand ope for such as these ROM If he be paid for turning of the keyes What sort of sins unlock the gates of Hell FLAM The disobedient hearts that puffe and swell Against his Government To such as dare Question the Councels of our holy Chaire To Hereticks and such as plot revenge These are the Card'nall sins that greaze the henge ROM But what betides to riotous Gluttons then Hell-tutor'd Sorcerers and incestuous men Unnat'rall Sodomites and the brasse-brow'd Lyer Those that give false Commissions nay and hyer Perverted subjects to dissolve their bands Of abjur'd Loyalty and lay violent hands On their own Princes Are th' Infernall keys Lesse nimble to unlock Hels gate for these FLAM These break the dores and rend the Portals ope Unlesse the grace of our Lord God the Pope Give former Dispensation or at least An after Pardon ROM I conceiv'd the best Your Al-sufficient Popes could doe had bin God-like to pardon a forsaken sin But to afford a
sents as they the foulest weed GENT No no my dearest deare these slubber'd cheeks Call for more water 't is the work of weeks To purge the Morphew from so foule a face 'T is not the labour of an howers space Can doe the deed PAN No leprosie can find So cleare a cure but that some scurf behind Will yet remaine Gentillâ— may be sure The worse being past time will perfect the cure GENT My dearest Pan such desperate sores as these Requier fresh supplies O! my disease Enjoynes me to goe wash nine times at least In Jordans streames till it be quite redrest PAN Be not deluded with traditious dreames 'T is Pan that cures thee and not Jordan-streames Let not thy Morphew plunge thy soule too farre In needlesse griefe deep wounds will leave a scarre Vexe not thy selfe and let no chill despaire Perplex thy troubled heart Thou art as faire As earth will suffer My contented eies Take pleasure in thy beauty which I prize Above the world and when the time shall come Wherein thy Shepheard shall conduct thee home Into my Fathers Palace where I dwell I 'le give thee water water shall excell The streames of Jordan whose diviner power Shall cleanse thy staines and in a moment soower Thy Morphew so that heavens Meridian eye Shall vaile to see thy greater Glory by Till then my dearest let these chast embraces Twine us a while then to our severall places Depart we both GENT Then let Gentilla dye If ought can part my dearest Pan and I These twined armes shall hold thee if thou go My Pan shall draw his own Gentilla too PAN Forbeare Gentilla for I must be gone I have a Father to attend upon And thou a Flock the time will come wherein We shall re-meet and never part agin GENT I 'le drive my Flocks whil'st we walk hand in hand And I will feed them on thy Fathers land PAN Not so Gentilla when thy Flocks are thriven In fat and fleece then then they shall be driven Vnto my Fathers Court where on thy knee Thou shalt present them as a gift from thee And at that day thy Shepheard shall come hither And hand in hand conduct Gentilla thither GENT If needs we must Farewell But see thou keep Thy promis'd word PAN Farewell and feed my Sheep EGLOGVE IIII. Nullifidius Pseudo-catholicus NULL HO Shepheard ho What aile thine eyes to take Such early slumbers Shepheard ho awake Ho Shepheard ho Lord how secure he lies What not a word For shame for shame arise Ho Shepheard ho I think his drouzy head Is nail'd to th' ground I think our Shepheard's dead Ho Shepheard ho PSEUD. I prithee leave thy hoing NULL Then leave this sleeping Shepheard cease thy blowing Shake off dull slumbâ—r and disclose thine eyes Ho Shepheard ho 'T is time 't is time to rise Til thou leave snorting Swaine I 'le ne'er leave calling Ho Shepheard ho PSEUD. I prithee leave thy bauling NULL Then Shepheard wake there is a Wolf broke in Among thy sheep what fallen asleep agin Ho Shepheard ho PSEUD. I prithee let me sleep P'sh what care I for either Wolf or Sheep NULL Look Shepheard look here flowes a curious Cup Of dainty sparkling Nectar full charg'd up To th' brim see how her sprightly dancing bubbles Defie degenerous feares and the dull troubles Of poore afflicted hearts look how they swell In proud disdain as if they threaten'd Hell With bold defiance or would undertake A prosperous duell with th' infernall Lake See how she mantles see with what a grace She lookes upon thee smiles upon thy face Ho Shepheard ho PSEUD. I there 's a voice would raise A dying soule and give the dead new daies I there 's a Rapture what blest Angels tongue Has broke my slumbers with so sweet a song What Nullifidius O the sweetest straine That e're was sung But where 's the Nectar Swaine Sure jolly Shepheard Pan will turn my friend I never dreame but still my dreames portend Some good or other As I lay asleep Beneath this shrub me thought my thirsty Sheep Demanded water in my troubled dreames Me thought I sent them to the flowing streames To drink their fill with that they made reply There is no water for the streames are dry So having said me thought that one among The flock unstopt my Bottle whence there sprung Cleare cry stall streames that water did abound Me thought those streames no sooner felt the ground But turn'd to blood whereat being sore affraid Me thought I Crost my selfe and after said Three Ave Maries and three Creeds and then The blood turn'd water and grew cleare agen And there I wak'd as I was e'en about To dreame the rest And now my dreame is out NULL Faith so 's my Nectar Swaine my Nectar 's ended Look here 's the Shrine but the sweet Saint 's ascended See'st thou this empty bottle Hence did flow Those rare those precious streames of late but now Dri'd up I sipt and call'd and sipt agin I told thee that a Wolf was broken in Among thy flocks and yet no art could rate Thee from thy slumbers till it grew too late At last I rouz'd thee with a potent Charme Advanc'd my voice as stoutly as my arme I rais'd both arme and voice to th' height and so Thy slumber 's ended and my Nectar too PSEUD. The Cramp the Murre for ever blesse such armes And tongues that can attempt no earlier charmes NULL Sure Pan's no friend of thine that gives no theames But Blood and Water to thy empty dreames Had'st thou but dream'd of Wine But Shepheard Swaine I have a project to re-entertaine Thy next attempt lye down and dreame againe Meane while these hands shall be imploi'd to fill My bottle at the foot of yonder hill I 'le brim my bottle with those crystall streames Second thoughts thrive why not second dreames Perchance deare Swain those second dreams of thine May Transubstantiate Water into Wine PSEUD. I prithee doe and swill it for thy paines 'T will wring thy bowels ere it wrong thy braines NULL You Roman Shepheards have prodigious dreames Can change your Bread to Flesh your Wine to streames Of purest Blood You can convert a dish Of Steakes to Roots Surloines to Joules of Fish Your full cram'd Capons on your Friday table As Shepheards saine and Shepheards will not fable Forget their fleshly natures their smooth skins Turn to rough scales their wings and legs to fins Plump Partridge turns to Pike your smaller dishes Of Quailes and costly Knots to lesser fishes But tell me Swaine what meane your learned Schools To tell such tales PSEUD. To make you Shepheards fools NULL That 's not the mark ye levell at you glance Your shafts but there ye hit but there by chance Come tell me Swaine this shady place is free From ill-digesting eares here 's none but we I have an Ewe now grazing on my plain Whose bounteous Bags thrice every day I strain Well struck in flesh and of a
The thing was told To many Shepheards more that dare be bold To call it Truth to Shepheards that were by That heard and saw and shook as well as I. His face was like the visage of a Childe Round smooth and plump and oftentimes it smil'd It glow'd like fier and his rowling eyes Cast flames like Lightning darted from the skyes His haire was long and curl'd and did infold Like knots of wire compos'd of burnisht Gold His body was uncloath'd His skin did show More white then Iv'ry or the new-faln snow Whose perfect whitenesse made a circling light That where it stood it silverd o're the night And as he spake his wings would now and then Spread as he meant to flye then close agen This news he brought 'T was neither Fame nor I That forg'd it Swain Good Angels cannot lye Canst thou beleeve it If thy faith be strong My greater Tidings shall enlarge my tongue VIG I doe Evangelus though for a season My faith was tyding on the streames of reason Yet now the gale of thy report shall drive Her sailes another course my thoughts shall strive Against that streame and what I cannot understand with my heart I will beleeve and wonder But tell me Swaine what happinesse accrews From this Or else relate thy better news EVANG. Then know Vigilius whilst the Angell spake My spirits trembled and my loines did ake Horror and heart-amazing feares possest The fainting powers of my troubled brest And struck my frighted soule into a swound That I lay senselesse prostrate on the ground With that he stretcht his life-restoring arme He rais'd me up and bid me feare no harme Feare not said he I come not to affright Thy gaster'd soule with terrours of the night My errand Shepheard is not to abuse Thine eyes with horrid shapes I bring thee news Tidings of joy and everlasting peace Stand up and let thy faithlesse trembling cease Collect thy scatter'd senses Swaine and heare The happiest newes that ever beg'd an eare Such news whereat th' harmonious quire of heaven Archangels Angels and the other seven Of those Celestiall Hierarchies the troop Of glorious Saints and soules of Prophets stoop Their joyfull eares and being fully freight With joyes sing forth Hosanna's to the height This night a Virgin hath brought forth a Son A perfect God though clad in flesh and bone Like mortall man th' eternall Prince of Rest And Peace in whom all nations shall be blest This night a Virgin hath brought forth a Child A perfect Man but pure and undefil'd With guilt of sin like you in shape and fashion And for your sakes as subject to your passion A perfect God whose selfe-subsisting nature Required not the help of a Creator A perfect man conceived by the power Of th' holy Ghost and borne this very hower A perfect God beyond the comprehending Of man and infinite without an ending A perfect man objected to the eye And touch of Flesh and Blood and borne to dye Like God eternall yet his life a span Like yours a perfect God a perfect man To you a Son is given the heire of glory Whose Kingdome 's endlesse and untransitory To you a child is borne that shall succeed That princely David and of Davids seed A Son is given whose name redeem'd the earth A world of daies before his mothers birth A Child is borne whose last expiring breath Shall give new dayes and dying conquer death A Son a Child compos'd of Earth and Heaven To you a Child is borne a Son is given We blessed Angels have no need at all Of such a Saviour for we cannnot fall The damned spirits of th' Infernall Throne Receive no profit by this Childe this Son To you the glory of so great a gain Belongs To you these tidings appertain To you thrice happy sons of men we bring This welcome errand from th' eternall King Of endlesse mercy the great Lord of Heaven To you this Childe is born this Son is given Goe Shepheards goe to Bethlem and your eyes Shall see the Babe The blessed Infant lyes In a poor Stable swadled in a Manger Goe Swains and entertain this heavenly Stranger Upon your bended knees See yonder Starre Shall be your Pilot where these wonders are And as he spake that word not fully ended Ten thousand Angels in a Troop descended But here my tongue must fail not having might To tell the glory of that glorious sight Nay had I power thine ears would prove as weak To apprehend as my poor tongue 's to speak They joyn'd their warbling notes and in a height Beyond the curious frailty of conceit Their voices sweetned our delighted fears And with this Caroll blest our ravisht ears GLory to God on high and jolly mirth Twixt man and man and peace on earth This night a childe is born This night a Son is given This Son this Childe Hath reconcil'd Poor man that was forlorne And th' angry God of heaven Hosanna sing Hosanna Now now that joyfull Day That blessed howre is come That was foretold In dayes of old Wherein all nations may Blesse blesse the Virgins wombe Hosanna sing Hosanna Let heaven triumph above Let earth rejoyce below Let heaven and earth Be fill'd with mirth For peace and lasting love Atones your God and you Hosanna sing Hosanna With that their Air-dividing plumes they spred And with Hosanna in their mouths they fled But Shepheard ah how far does my report Ah how extreamly my poor words come short To blaze such glory How have I transgrest T' expresse such Raptures not to be exprest VIG O Swain how could I lose my self to hear Thy blest discourse O how my greedy ear Clings to thy cordiall lips whose soveraign breath Brings Antidotes against the fangs of death How happy are these times How blest are wee Above all ages that are born to see This joyfull day whose glory was deny'd To Kings and holy Prophets that rely'd Upon the self-same hopes How more then they Are we poor Shepheards blest to see this day EVANG. O Shepheard had our Princely David seen This happy how'r how had his spirit been Inflam'd with Joy and Zeal What heavenly skill Had passion lent to his diviner Quill What Odes what Lyrick Raptures had inspir'd His ravisht soul that was already fir'd With hopes alone that these rare things should bee In after days which now his eyes should see VIG No question but an infinite delight Had easily sprung from so divine a sight It had bin Joy sufficient that a Sonne Was born to sit upon his Princely Throne O but that Son to be a Saviour too Able to conquer death and overthrow The very Gates of Hell and by his breath To drag his soul from the deep Jaile of death Had bin a Joy too high to be exprest By tongues or trusted to a common brest But hold whilst we endevour to make known Anothers Joy we o're neglect our own The day is broke The Eastern Lamps begin To fail and draw
share as well as I Examples are demanded which being given We must not follow Giddy brains bereaven Of common sense Where heaven does make no mentiō You style it with the term of mans invention Where heaven commandeth and is pleas'd to hallow With blest Examples there we must not follow ANAR. So heaven by blest Examples did enjoin Your bended knees to worship Bread and Wine CAN. When your crosse-garted knees fall down before Your Parlour-Table what doe you adore ANAR. So heaven commands by conjuring words to bring Vow'd hands together with a hallow'd Ring CAN. 'T is true your fiery zeals cannot abide Long circumstance your doctrine 's Vp and Ride ANAR. So heaven commanded that religious praise Be given to Saints and worship to their dayes CAN. Whom you contemn because they did not preach Those Doctrines that your Western Parlours teach ANAR. So heaven commanded Bishops and the rest Of that lewd Rank ranck members of the Beast CAN. I heaven commanded such and gave them power To scourge and check suchill-pac'd Beasts as you are ANAR. So heaven commanded that the high Commission Should plague poor Christians like the Inquisition CAN. Your plagues are what your own behaviours urge None but the guilty raile against the Scourge ANAR. So heaven commands your prayers that buried dust Of Whores and Theeves should triumph with the Just CAN. Man may not censure by externall view Forbear we sometimes pray for some of you ANAR. So heaven commands your Paintings Pipes Copes Us'd in your Churches and ordain'd by Popes CAN. Where Popish hands have rais'd in every Town A Parish Church shall we pull Churches down But come Anarchus let us leave to play At childish Pushpin Come let not the day Be lost in Trifles to a fruitlesse end Let 's fall to hotter service and contend By more substantiall argument whose weight May vindicate the truth from light conceit Let 's try a Syllogisme Art infuses Spirit into the children of the Muses Whereby stout error shall be forc'd to yield And Truth shall sit sole Mistresse of the Field ANAR. Art me no Arts That which the Sp'rit infuses Shall edge my tongue What tell'st thou me of Muses Those Pagan Gods the Authours of your Schismes P'sh tell not me of Arts and Silisismes I care not for your Quirks and new devices Of studied wit We use to play our prizes With common weapons and with downright knocks We beat down sin and error like an Oxe And cut the throat of heath'nish Pop'ry too Like Calves prepar'd for slaughter so we doe We rash in sunder Heresie like an Ell Of Sarc'net then convey it down to Hell We take just measure of a Christians heart By th' yard of Judgement then by dextrous Art We cut out doctrines and from notch to notch We fit our holy Stuffe we doe not botch Like you but make it jump that it be neither Too wide nor straight then stitch it up together And make a Robe of Sanctity to fit The childe of Grace we medle not with wit These be the meanes that overthrow our Schismes And build Religion without Sigilismes CAN. A rare device But tell me wert thou made A Butcher or a Tayler by thy trade I look'd for Schollership but it appears Hoods make no Monks nor Beards Philosophers ANAR. Surely I was at first by Occupation A Merchant Tayler till that lender fashion Of Spanish Cassocks grew into request When having left that Calling I profest A Chaunler where I was enforc'd to vent That hellish smoake whose most unsavory scent Perfum'd my garments so that I began To be conceiv'd an Unregenerate man Which cal'd me from that course of life to trade In tape and inckle ere I year'd and day'd This new imployment O a strange mischance Ore threw my dealings which did disadvance My meane estate and whereupon I fled To Amsterdam where being trencher-fed By holy Brethren liv'd in great respect Sr Rev'rence footing stockings for th' Elect Surely the savour of the Brethrens feet Perfum'd with commings in is very sweet There twise six monthes I had not led my life But I became an Husband to an Wife The widow of an Elder in whose stead I was though I could neither write nor read Accounted worthy though I say 't and able To preach the Gospel at our holy Table CAN. But say what strange mischance was that did move thee To flee thy native soile What mischief drove thee What dire dysaster urg'd thy skilfull hand To find imployment in a forain Land ANAR. Surely I was when that mischance befell But poore in purse and was constrain'd to sell Cadice and Inckle now because my trade Requir'd an help I entertain'd a Maide An able Christian though I say 't Begot Of holy Parents though the nuptiall knot Of ceremonious Mariage never tyed Their joyned hands She was a Sanctified And undefiled Vessell She would pray When others slept and work when others play She was of exc'lent knowledg and indeed She could expound and preach too for a need She was my servant and set up my trade With her owne hands her skilfull fingers made The Tape and Inckle where withall she stor'd My thriving shop whereby I did afford My Brethren better pennyworths nay more She had a gift was all the City ore Well known in making Puddings whose meer view Would make a Proselyte and convert a Jew Whose new Religion would proclaim our Hogs As clean and holy as their Synagogues These would she beare from house to house and sell To holy Brethren who would please her well For under that pretence she oft repeated Some close preacht Sermon oftentimes entreated Of holy Discipline sometimes gave warning Of some rare Lecture held next Thursday morning I know not how fraile flesh and blood ye know Can doe no more then flesh and blood can doe But to be short she would so often fig From place to place that she was grown too big To be conceal'd from wicked neighb'ring eyes T' avoid the scandall I thought good t' arise And flee to Amsterdam till I could gather By information the reputed Father CAN. A wholsome Hist'ry able to transforme Abus'd Religions sunshine to a storme Of direfull Thunderbolts to overthrow All Christian Rulers that dare longer ow Confusion to the Varlets and not grind them To dust and send them to the place design'd them Had'st thou that impudence that brazen face In the fag end of thy unsav'ry base Triobular trades foule beast nay piping hot From thy close Strumpet thus to soile and blot The beauty of Religion and to wrong The Gospels name with thy illiterate tongue ANAR. Were not th' Apostles Fishers and not fly Their trades and preach'd the word as well as I CAN. Avoid presumptuous Varlet urge no more My tyred patience Goe seeke out thy Whore Thy fit Compere and exercise thy trade Vpon her ruin'd stockings much decaid With long pursuit and trudging all about To find the Father of her Bastard out Whil'st I remove