Selected quad for the lemma: law_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
law_n	king_n	lord_n	parliament_n	20,596	5	6.9552	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A57500	Rome rhym'd to death being a collection of choice poems, in two parts / written by the E. of R., Dr. Wild, and others of the best modern wits.	Rochester, John Wilmot, Earl of, 1647-1680.; Wild, Robert, 1609-1679.	1683 (1683)	Wing R1758; ESTC R16454	52,573	136

be gone Go tell thy destiny to fools or none Kings Hearts and Councils are to deep for thee And for thy Stars and Doemons scrutinie King CHARLES Return was much above thy skill● To fumble out as 't was against thy will From him who can the hearts of Kings inspire Not from the Planets came that sacred Fire Of Soveraign Love which burst into a Flame From God and from the King alone it came To the KING SO great so universal and so free This was too much great CHARLES except for Thee For any King to give a Subject hope To do thus like Thee would undo the Pope Yea tho his Vassals should their wealth combine To buy Indulg●nce half so large as Thine No if they should not only kiss his Toe But Clement's Podex he 'd not let them goe Whil'st Thou to 's Shame Thy immortal Glory Hast freed All-Souls from reall Purgatory And given All-Saints in Heav'n new Joys to see Their Friends in England keep a 〈◊〉 Suspect them not Great Sir nor think the worse For sudden Joys like Grief con●ound at fi●st The Splendor of Your Favour was so bright That yet it dazles and o'rewhelms our Sight Drunk with her Cups my Muse did nothing find And until now her Feet she could not find Greediness make Prophaness i' th' first place Hungry Men fill their Bellies then say Grace We wou'd make Bone-fires but that we do fea● Name of Incendiaries we may hear We wou'd have Musick too but 't will not do For all the Fidlers are Conformists too Nor can we ring the angry Churchman Swears By the King's leave the Bells and Ropes are theirs And let 'em take 'em for our tongue shall sing Your Honour louder than their Clappers Ring Nay if they will not at this Grace repine We 'l dress the Vineyard they shall drink the Wine Their Church shall be the Mother ours the Nurse Peter shall Preach Iudas shall bear the Purse No Bishops Parsons Vicars Cur●tes we But only Ministers desire to be We●l preach in Sackcloth they shall Read in Silk We 'l Feed the Flock and let them take the Mil●ust Let but the Black-birds sing in bushes cold And may the Iack-Daws still the Steeples hold We 'l be the Fee● the Back and ●ands and they Shall be the Belly and devour the Prey The Tythe-pigg shall be theirs we 'l turn the Spit We 'l bear the Cross they only Sign with it But if the Patriarchs shall envy show To see their Younger-Brother Ioseph go In Coat of divers colours and shall fall To rend it 'cause it 's not Canonical Then may they find him turn a Dreamer too And live themselves to see his D●eam come true May rather they and we together joyn In all what each can but they have the Coyn With Prayers and Tears such Service much avail With Tears to swell your Seas with Prayers your Sails And with Men too from both our Parties such I 'm sure we have can cheat or beat the Dutch A Thousand Quakers Sir our side can spare Nay two or three for they great breeders are The Church can match us too with Jovial Sirs Informers Singing-men and Paraters Let the King try set these upon the Decks Together they will Dutch or Devil Vex. Their Breath will mischief far beyond a Gun And if you lose them you 'l not be undone Accept dread Sir and pardon this coarse Paper Your License 't was made this poor Poet caper THE CHARACTER OF A True English-Man THe free-born English generous and wise Hate Chains but do not Government de●pise Rights of the Crown Tribute and Taxes they When lawfully exacted freely pay Force they abhor and wrongs they scorn to bear More guided by their Judgment than their Fear Justice with them was never held severe There Pow'r by Tyranny was never got Laws might perhaps enslave them Force cannot Kings are less safe in their unbounded Will Joyn'd with the wretched Pow'r of doing Ill. Forsaken most when they 're most absolute Laws Guard the Man and only bind the brute To force that Guard with its worst Foe to joyn Can never be a prudent Kings Design What Prince would change to be a Cataline Break his own Laws shake the unquestion'd Throne Conspire with Vassals to usurp his own Let France grow proud beneath the Tyrant's Lust Whilst the rackt People crawl and lick the Dust The mighty Genius of this Isle disdains Both High-shoon Slavery and Golden Chains England to ●ervile Yoke could never bow What Conquerors ne're presum'd who dares do now In vain your Holiness does rack your Brain No Son of yours that happy Isle can gain Arm'd with blest Bibles and undated Law They guard themselves and keep the World in awe Whilst CHARLES Survives and Parliaments can Sit They scorn your Tories Swords and Iesuits Wit ABHORRERS ABHOR'D ABhorr'd Abhorrers horribly Abhorr'd Monsters more base than Africk can afford What Not Petition to our Sovereign Lord That Parliaments might sit and save the KING And Kingdom too from those that both would bring To Slavery first Lawless Chains at Home And next intollerable Yokes from Rome Be gone ye Fops to France and there enslave Your selves and Spurious off-spring for a Knave Is fit t'en●ender Vassals but too brave Is this Rich Isle which only owneth those That Popish Bondage do resolve t' oppose Was 't thou in England born and 〈◊〉 born Free Thou profane Esan● Nay more vile than He To sell thy Birthright to the French and Pope Where all the Acquisition thou could'st Hope Was wooden-shooes Fire Fagot and a Rope Let Tyburn take thee and thy fellow Slaves And all detesting and Abhoring Knaves Then CHARLES lives sa●e and quickly may become The Head of ●ll Reformed Christendome S●●ure the ●elgick fears and ours at Home Blast 〈◊〉 de-Luces and the Keys of Rome 〈◊〉 after God to him our thanks we pay For this if but well-us'd sure healing day That our gr●●t Senate sits whose joynt Accord Does Vote ABHORRERS all to be Abhorr'd To the Parliament HAil Glorious Senate welcom as the day To wearied Pilgrims that have lost their way Night-Mare'd by Goblins and long led astray Welcom as Liberty to Al●ier-Slaves As Gold to Courtiers or Pardons to Knaves The half-dead Genius of our trembling Isle At your Approach revives into a Smile Each drooping Protestant begins look Gray And dull October Rivals sprightly May. By your Sage Councels we at once become A Match for haughty France and treacherous Rome But first subdue the Monsters here at Home Monsters that would our Sacred Faith and Laws Or'e-turn and in their never sa●iate Maws Swallow like Egypt's Vermin each green thing Enslave our Persons and destroy our King That seek to strike out both our Eyes and still Confine for sport our Sampsons to their Mill. Prevent those dire designs Dispel our Fears Blast the Plot at the Root and by your Cares Secure both us and our yet unborn Heirs May Heavens Blessing Crown all your Debates On

that all alone We have terrible Bulls and Pardons for Gulls Holy Water to Scar-crow the Devil With Consecrate Swords take them on our words They shall make the Great Turk be civil We have Saints great store and Miracles more With Martyrs a great many from Tyburn Pretty Nuns that dwell mewd up in a Cell As chast as Night-walkers of Holbourn We have Holy Blood we have Holy Wood A Ship-load or some such matter We have Holy Bones and some Holy Stones Would make an old Ladies Chops water We have Holy Men seen but now and then Monks Abbots and Capuchin Friars With Merits so great they can buy one a Seat In Heaven or else they are Liars Then all you that would sure Salvation procure And yet still live as you list Do but mutter and pray and say as we say And your Catholicks good as e're P We are brisk and free and always agree Allowing our selves to be jolly And the Puritan Tricks of dull Hereticks We count but Fanatical Folly Swearing and Whoring Drinking and Roaring All those are but Venial Transgressions The Murthering of Kings and such petty things Are easily Absolv'd in Confession A little short Penance doth wipe away Sin And there 's an end of all trouble Which having dispatcht you may fall to 't agen And safely your Wickedness double Bring a good round Sum Sins past and to come Shall presently be forgiven But this you must know before you do go The Excize runs high upon Heaven For we have the Price of every Vice Assest at a certain Rate So near at a word we do them afford Not a Penny thereof we can bate But if you 're content a while to be pent And in Purgatory purged A smaller Spell shall preserve you from Hell And keep you from being scourged Though you have liv'd a Devil in all kind of Evil Bequeath but a Monastery And Angels your Soul without Controul To Abraham's Bosom shall Carry Nor need you to fear who have bought Lands dear That were Holy Churches before We 'l lend them for life but for your Souls health At your Death you must them restore Thus Popery you see will kindly agree If you will it but embrace But if you delay there 's somany i' th way That you will hardly get a good place The Critical Time is now in the prime See how Holy Mother does smile And spreading her Arms to preserve you from harms So gladly would you Reconcile To which purpose behold do but tell out your Gold And all things in readiness be For the next Year His Holiness we hear Doth intend a Jubilee You that Pardons would have or Indulgence crave To ROME to ROME be trudging And do not contemn good Advice from a Friend Nor take his Ballad in dudgeon On ROME's Pardons By the E. of R. IF Rome can Pardon Sins as Romans hold And if those Pardons can be bought and sold It were no Sin to adore and worship Gold If they can purchase Pardons with a Sum For Sins they may commit in time to come And for Sins past 't is very well for Rome At this rate they are happiest that have most They 'l purchase Heaven at their own proper cost Alas the Poor all that are so are lost Whence came this Knack or when did it begin What Author have they or who brought it in Did Christ e're keep a Custom-House for Sin Some subtile Devil without more ado Did certainly this sly Invention brew To gull'em of their Souls and Mony too Written by Stephen Colledge the day before he dyed Wrongful Imprisonment Hurts not the Innocent WHat if I am into a Prison cast By Hellish Combinations am betray'd My Soul is free although my Body's fast Let them Repent that have this Evil laid And of Eternal Vengeance be afraid Come Racks and Gibbets can my Body kill My God is with me and I fear no Ill. What boots the Clamours of the Giddy Throng What Antidotes against a poysonous Breath What Fence is there against a lying Tongue Sharpen'd by Hell to wound a Man to Death Snakes Vipers Adders do lurk underneath Say what you will or never speak at all Our very Prayers such Wretches Treason call But Walls and Bars cannot a Prison make The free-born Soul enjoyes it's Liberty These Clods of Earth it may incaptivate Whilst Heavenly Minds are conversant on high Ranging the Fields of Blest Eternity So let this Bird sing sweetly in my Breast My Conscience clear a Rush for all the rest What I have done I did with good Intent To serve my King my Country and the Laws Against the Bloody Papists I was bent Cost what it will I 'le ne're repent my Cause Nor do I fear their Hell-devouring Jawes A Protestant I am and such I 'le die Maugre all Death and Popish Cruelty But what need I these Protestations make Actions speak Men far better than their Words What e're I suffer for my Country's sake Not Cause I had a Gun or Horse or Sword Or that my Heart did Treason e're afford No 't is not me alone they do intend But Thousands more to gain their cursed Ends. And sure of this the World 's so well aware That here it 's needless more for me to say I must conclude no time have I to spare My winged hours fly too fast away My work Repentance must I not delay I 'le add my Prayers to God for Englands good And if he please will seal them with my Blood O blessed God! destroy this black Design Of Popish Consults it 's in thee we trust Our Eyes are on thee help O Lord in time Thou God of Truth most merciful and just Do thou defend us or we perish must Save England Lord from Popish Cruelty My Country bless thy will be done on me Man's Life 's a Voyage through a Sea of Tears If he would gain the Heaven of his Rest His Sighs must fill the Sails whilst some men steers When storms arise let each Man do his best And cast the Anchor of his hopes opprest Till Time or Death shall bring us to that Shore Where Time nor Death shall never be no more Laus Deo S. C. From my Prison in the Tower Aug. 15. 1681. Amen LONDON's Fatal Fall Being an ACROSTICK c. Written as a Second Poetical Diversion the 8 th of September 1666. L o now confused Heaps only stand O n what did bear the Glory of the Land N o Stately Places no Edefices D o now appear No here 's now none of these O h Cruel Fates Can ye be so unkind N ot to leave scarce a Mansion behind L et England then lament and let her keep A dismal day let every Soul to weep T o wash away those Sins that thus provoke E ternal Heavens all-consuming stroke L et Penitential Tears quench out the Fire Y et reigning in our Lusts let that expire E lse we can have no blessed Confiden●e N or hopes in Heavens merciful Defence G race

the rising Sun In all the heats of Infamy and Disgrace The sure Remarks of a bold Brazen-face Truly for no great hurt nor for much harm Only inventing to spill Royal Blood to keep it warm Fire Cities Burn Houses and Devast Nations Ruine us in all our several Stations But who would think it from the Woman fine A thing whom Nature it self hath made Divine That she should act such horrid barbarous things As to design to stab Statesmen and to Murder Kings But here she still appears for her ill acts Like second storms after Thunder-claps Philosophers tell us The best things corrupted are the worst And from their own fine species are ever curst When once we take to Ill and Vices Road We then paint our selves much like the Toad Since Vice not only horrid is from the being of Nature But also from the thing it self and from its own feature Who makes us look at once and that several ways Like squinting people from their false Optick Rays This teaches us therefore how a strange a thing is Religion That makes one a Vulture the other a Raven and the other a Widgeon To be so very false in the instructing those To commit such horrid acts and with them close As what is opened and presented here By a Popish Midwife called Madam Cellier Go to therefore all ye Papists and Men of the Red Letter Would you but seriously consider of it yon would do much better Than Plot such secret Villanies against the State The direful operations of your ungodly hate On the Murther of Sir EDMONDBURY GODFREY of WESTMINSTER An hasty POEM O Murder Murder let this Shreik fly round Till Hills and Dales and Rocks and Shores rebound Send it to Heav'n and Hell for both will be Astonish'd and Concern'd as much as we First send to Endor where of old did dwell An Hag could Fates of Kings and Kingdoms tell If that cannot be found to Ekron go To Pluto's Oracle and Hell below There serve this Hue and Cry for there 't was hatch'd Except the Priests their Gods have over-match'd Methinks Belzebub if he be out-done In his Grand Misteries and Rome needs none Of his Black Arts but can Out-Devil Hell His Envy and Revenge this Plot should tell And by disclosing in his own defence Not only vindicate his Innocence But hasten their destruction and prevent Loss of his Trade the Jesuits intent Unless he fears them as indeed he may When once in Hell none shall Command but they But if this Tragedy be all his own And Roman Actors taught by him have shown How they can play all parts he can devise Female or Male with or without disguise And need no Cacodoemons prompting Art Or Whisper but can fill up any part Fast Pray and Weep Swear and Forswear Decoy Trapan Kiss Flatter Smile and so Destroy Stab Pistol Poyson Kings un-un-King de-Throne Blow up or down Save Damn make all their own Knows not he then tho' Founder of the Stage The Laws of Theatres in every Age. That th' Actors not the Author of the Play Do challenge the Rewards of the first day Make then their names renown'd and come to hide Such Children of thy Revels and thy Pride Send to their Father and thy eldest Son That Lucifer of Rome what feats they 've done That he may make their names be understood Written in Kalenders of Martyrs Blood But if the Fiends below be Deaf and Dumb And this Conjuring cannot overcome They and their Imps be damn'd together I To Gods on Earth will send my Hue and Cry Arise Just Charles Three Kingdoms Soul and mine Great Iames thy Grandfather could well divine And without Spell the bloody Riddle Spell Writ by like S●●●etaries of Rome and Hell And if Thy Proclamation cannot do We pray Gods Spirit may inspire Thee too If Thy Prophetick Vsher did not err The Mass would enter by a Massacre The Wounds Thy Godfrey found were meant for Thee And Thou ly'st Murder'd in Effigie In Gods Kings Kingdoms Cause this Knight was slain Let him a Noble Monument obtain Erected in your Westminsters great Hall That Courts of Justice may lament his Fall And may when any Papist cometh near His Marble Statue yield a bloody tear Yet let him not be buried let him lie The fairest Image to draw Justice by There needs no Balm or Spices to preserve The Corps from Stench his Innocence will serve Ye Lords and Commons joyn your speedy Votes A Pack of Blood-Hounds threaten all your Throats And if their Treason be not understood Expect to be Dissolv'd in your own Blood O Vote that every Papist high and low To Martyr'd Godfry's Corps in person go And laying hand upon his wounded Brest By Oath and Curse his ignorance protest But Oh the Atheism of that Monstrous Crew Whose Holy Father can all Bonds undo Whose Breath can put away the heavi'st Oath Who fears no Heaven nor Hell but laughs at both Therefore a safer Vote my Muse suggests For Priests and Iesuits can swallow Tests As Hocus Pocus doth his Rope or Knife And cheats the gaping Farmer and his Wife Oh Vote each Sign-post shall a Gibbet be And hang a Traytor upon every Tree Yet we 'l find Wood enough for Bone-fire-piles T' inlighten and inflame our Brittish Isles Upon the approaching Fifth November night And make Incendiaries curse the light November Fires Septembers may reveal One Burn we say another Burn will heal Lastly And surely let this Hue and Cry Reach Heaven where every Star looks like an Eye To that High Court of Parliament above Whose Laws are mixt with Justice and with Love Whither Just Godfry's Souls already come And hath receiv'd the Crown of Martyrdom Where Murder'd Kings and slaughter'd Saints do cry Their Blood may never unrevenged lie Ye Saints and Angels hate that Scarlet Whore Whose Priests and Brats before your Shrines adore And in their Massacres your Aid implore Staining your Altars with the precious Gore Pour down your Vials on their Cursed heads And in Eternal flames prepare their Beds And Thou Judge Jesus Hang'd and Murder'd too By Power of Rome and Malice of the Iew In Godfry's Wounds Thine own to bleed anew Oh Rend Thy Heavens Come Lord and take Thy Throne Revenge Thy Martyrs and Thine own The Loyal Protestants New LITANY FRom the Romish Whore with her Triple Crown Fom the Plot she hath hatch'd and her Babes now disown Though they dy'd with a Lie in their Mouth is well known Libra nos Domine From such as presume to speak ill of Queen Bess From a Popish Midwife in a Sanctified Dress Adorn'd with a Wooden Ruff for a Crest Libra nos c. From Iudas the Purse-bearers Protestant face From any more of his Machiavel race That henceforth may ever succeed in his place Libra nos c. From a Doctor that durst prepare such a Dose That would take a Protestant Prince by the Nose Although it be spoken under the Rose Libra nos c. From a