Selected quad for the lemma: religion_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A34243
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Lucida intervalla, containing divers miscellaneous poems, written at Finsbury and Bethlem by the Doctors patient extraordinary.
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Carkesse, James, fl. 1679.
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1679
(1679)
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Wing C577; ESTC R8004
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16,361
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72
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Bedlam Heaven thought but find it Hell Darkness and Chains are here and Porter too Of Pluto's Court for without more ado Mathews the Body three Keepers three Heads mate And Cerberus make up at Bedlam-Gate Here I must treated be like Mad and Fop 'Till to the Monster I can give a Sop. Made the 13. of November Being a Fast-Day On Account of the Plot. WHen Heavens Frown and Clouds now big with Thunder Direct the fatal Bolt I can't but wonder We charge the Storm on Iesuite and Pope And fondly threaten Tyburn and the Rope Just as when Tempest in the Seas did rise And Neptune tost both Ships and them to Skies The huffing Xerxes lasht the Winds in vain And order'd Waves to fetter with a Chain The God of Heaven knows our sins our sins Hatch all the mischief there the Plot begins As they encrease the blackness from a hand Darkens the Sphear by the Almighty span'd Wash them away but with Repentant Tears Such flowing Streams an Ebb make in our fears What e're we think w' are in a safe condition By nothing more than a strict Inquisition Examine well your hearts and search your mind Sins with Granadoes chequer'd there you 'l find W' are Traytors to our selves our Lusts conspire The City new Rebuilt to set on fire Zeal for Gods Glory let it burn but high Destroying Flames will dwindle out and die Whatever ills we suffer be we sure Sin 's the Disease Repentance is the Cure That we may then Popes Bulls and Plots defie That Englands Church may haughty Romes outvie Let this our Ark in such a Deluge Swim As may from Weeping Eyes o'reflow the Brim The strongest Guardians to assure our fears Of Peters Successor are Peters Tears ON A Fanatick Ropemaker REligion you put on as Knaves their Cloak To hide your base designs you it bespoke Thus we remember how Old Noll did Pray That unsuspected Charles he might betray In the Lords Name 't is known begins all Evil His Livery you wear and serve the Devil Witness your heart and mouths flat contradiction By Hell-bred lies Truth turning into Fiction Witness poor Orphans hook't into your Net And then devour'd with greedy Appetite But my good friend be sure such Meat will choak you And Iustice both from God Man will smoak you Witness the cheating Practice in your Trade And selling Ocum when for Ropes you 're paid He that vents rotten Cables 'gainst all Law Iniquity with Cart-Ropes needs must draw The Pilot now may justly fear the Port And Rocks and Storms in open Ocean court But could I dip my Pen in Gall and Rancour I 'de scratch this Knave makes Ships unsafe at Anchor The Knave that 's Fool too one of fortunes minions A Hypocrite halting betwixt two Opinions Unheard of Villain forsook and left i' th' lurch Both by the Devils-Chappel and Gods Church New-England too that last and known retreat Of all the Brethren of the Holy Cheat You have abus'd they 'l banish you and Swear Th' Artificer's as rotten as his Ware If then no Place nor Party him receive He 's ripe for Tyburn that 's not fit to live Where when he 's Hang'd he may have some small hope To swing in one of 's Own and crack the Rope TO THE LADY IANE LEVISON GOWER AND Mrs. CATHERINE NEWPORT each giving him Six pence TWo Ladies here me Sixpence gave a piece I valued each above the Golden Fleece In One I made a hole about my Neck Designing it to wear to give a check To Bedlam Spirits and to charm Mad-Devil As Angel Gold is us'd to heal Kings-Evil T' other I bow'd to take the faster hold Yet Both slipt through my fingers as doth Gold My Riches fled away on Eagles Wing And for the Honey in Carcase left their Sting But courage take Iackstraw the hands I 'm sure That for thy Wound made way can give thee Cure To a Friend upon his sending him Venison to BEDLAM IF like be fed by like what better meat Can Horn Mad wild as Buck then Venison eat Sir this Philosophy you understood And sent a Hanch to be our Bedlam food Accordingly we it for such like reason Did 'cause Hot-headed well with Pepper season Madness and Wit then being all one o' th' place Sir Quack much Salt made proper in the Case And the truth is Deer must be Diet fit For Horn-Mad equally and nimble Wit The Vertue I feel and this experience gain Venison i' th' Blood swells the Poetick Vein Now Doc and Pot those whiffling Curs in couple That always Hunt I 'le keep at bay and bubble For Goat and Venison differ so small a matter That Buck will lusty make my Bedlam Satyre And when with Rope Sir Quack has cur'd the smaâ—… My Brisk Lampoon survive the long-liv'd Haâ—… Presented to the Right Honourable EDWARD SEYMOUR Esq His ever Honoured Master WHen unfledg'd Orator Tongue but weaker For Secretary chose by Mr. Speaker I straitway got the knack of better talking And from Clarks desk to Pulpit must be walking For not per saltum taken is Degree When of a Scribe you 're made a Pharisee Would you then know how Clark became a Teacher And how the Speaker's man starts up a Preacher My Master's Spring some drops on me distills And in his Ink I dipt my Infant Quills His Petition to Mr. Speaker A Man of Sense in Bedlam I recount Among our Grievances or Tant-amount To Rescue me then Serjeant send at Armes The Circle in the Crown Mad-Devil charms And Man in Moon so sure his Bush at Back Must fall by Mace as fire by Malaga Sack On his mistaking the Name OF Sir Gabriel Silvius Presented to his Lady SIr Gabriel I mistaking call Sir George And of an Angel thus a Saint do forge Sure Jealous lest you at our Saviours Birth Being of the Quire of those that Sang on Earth Do from us Mortals when you Mount and Sing Your Lady steal away upon your Wing Such Flight me robs of Soul and what I am More plainly must discover then my Name Our Life and Bliss secure then lest we die Stay long on Earth and late to Heaven flie But let me still you Englands Champion call As Omen of the Beast's and Dragon's fall The Poet 's modest and reasonable Expostulation with the non-Infallible Pope of the Lunatiques on behalf of the sober Parson hitherto mistaken and misjudged by Religio Medici Humbly Presented to the Worshipful the Treasurer and other the Governors of the Hospital of Bethlem A Pollo God and Father you and I Own both in Physick and in Poetry Brother because Lampoon'd what do you mean A Son of Phoebus Lunatick to feign Guilty the Verdict of a City Jury Can bring him in but of Poetick Fury Whereof necessity must guilt abate For he all madness pleads is kin to Fate Since then right Reason says he can't forego it Condemn his Fury but discharge the Poet. Doctor I am no ways as worth Remarque is Your
nunc Solem Doctor inepte nega On the Ladies looking into his Cell When Doctor Mad-Quack me i' th' Dark had put And a close Prisoner in my Cloyster shut A Lady chanc'd peep in whose Beauty bright Enlarg'd the crannies and let in new light Quack I 'm now pleas'd without the Sun confin'd See how he Blushes by my Star out-shin'd To a Lady who was very kind to him in the place MAdam when first your Beauty shin'd Into my Cell on me confin'd I grew in Love with my dark Cloyster Slighted poor and hungry Pearl and Oyster The Apricotts which you me threw The thoughts of Paradise renew In Edens Garden sure they grew Transplanted to Moorfields by you You gave me Silver whence I hold I ought not to Envy Danae's Gold For though on her Iove rain'd a Shower Twant real but Poetick Oar. You me with Paper Pen and Ink Madam supply'd as well as Chink This my Muse studies to requite In part to you when she does Write Your Charity sent me a Shirt each thread Whereof to you me fast does Wed And thus from your extended hand The Shirt in mine turns to a Band. At Night in Straw Lying a long To th' Oaten Pipes this was my Song To a Friend that sent him a Box. THus as I lie I Fancy I 'm Iack-straw And to Rebellious Bedlam give the Law Yet though a Prince so low my Fortune 's sunk That I do want which you supply the Trunk And for my Verses writ on Apricocks You kindly make Iack-straw Iack-in-a-Box To another sending him a Chair We Greet you well and as well 't is resented That you Iackstraw with Chair of State presented But we shall yet be more considerable If your Companion Carpet send or Table A Bethlehemite in Bedlam one of the small Prophets and a minor Poet to the Lady Sheriffesse Beckford Mrs Catherine Heywood and Mrs Johnson requesting them to make his Cloyster fit for their Reception and then to allow him the Honour to kiss their hands in the too close embraces of his Prison YOu three Graces and Nine Muses are a Iury Do these agree mine 's fit for Bedlam fury No nor am I Mad but with design for certain Acting the Part my Name-sake's not Sir Martin The Bedlam Quack dissector of an Oyster Me as his Patient Physicks in this Cloyster I sleep in Stubble where I 'm bid to Sow My wilder Oats may Ceres speed the Plough There as I lie I second am Iack-straw And all the Bedlamites do over-awe Fair Ladies you the Posse Comitatus With Beauties force can quell the Slaves that hate us But pray hence forward see I lie in Feather With Quils pickt out I 'le praise all three together To this the Poet better you 'l enable If his dark Cell you hang with brighter Sable And when your goodness hath prepar'd the place Come challenge here the Glory of your Grace To the same By Vertue 's Temple Honour 's you approach And from this Cloyster go I to a Coach In lieu of hanging It since I am well A Charet give to take me from my Cell In windy Nights my House both rocks and reels Then Scythian-like you 'l Build me one on wheels Each of the Ladies may by your connivance Bestow a Horse for this is the contrivance That People seeing me ride may call these forces The Posse Comitatus Coach and Horses ON Madam Gwyn's Saying of Her Self She was the only Protestant Mistress I Sing a Ladies Praise whose true Religion Rome's Eagle does defy Mahomet's Pidgeon Pens that can't here exceed an Enchiridion Come not from Pegasus but a senseless Widgeon She 's true to Church of England and its King A subject fit for dying Swans to Sing To be writ with Quils pluckt from an Angels wing Her Beauty 's so Celestial a thing When for the Curtain she the Stage did change Cum Privilegio 't was Roger l'Estrange The Mystery's not easily reveal'd Contents must guest at be when Letter 's Seal'd This is in part the Case Unto St. Helen A Church there 's Consecrate and rul'd by Pelling She sure must be that Saint who can disprove it To her Greek Name-sake sure you won't remove it If then the true Church Catholick she own And Christians to her Shrine vow That of Stone A double Claim she to the Title hath Of Mistress to Defender of the Faith TO Mr. Stackhouse Presenting me with a PERIWIG OUr Souls into a Mansion-House of Clay Are thrust by Heaven there while we live to stay Therefore I must from what you me present You Thatch-house call of Iackstraws Tenement I did it want e're since my coming hither My upper Room to Skreen from wind weather For though I 'm thought hot-headed I find no harm In keeping with your gift my Noddle warm I thank you then to dance my Bedlam Gigg For furnishing Hair-brain with Huffing-Wigg And pay you for 't the current Coin he uses These curled locks and tresses of the Muses Poets are Mad. IN Bedlam best of Universities The Poet not the Parson takes degrees Among the common Herd at first he 's enter'd After into a Room with windows ventur'd That Sermons may not want a Psalm the Droll Lives fitly with Nolls Porter Cheek by Iowl One end Musitian Thamar thought the milder T'other extreme Poet takes up that 's wilder For his Wits rampant and 't is Mad-quacks pleasure To say his Madness hath no other measure Nay to the Governors this Fool declares Him fit for Bedlam 'till he Wit forswears Poets and Players now pack up your Awls To Bedlam you aloud Fop Mad-Quack calls And 'till he cures you of Poetick Rage Our Galleries you must fill quit Pit and Stage On the Doctors telling him that 'till he left off making Verses he was not fit to be discharg'd DEsiring his Imprison'd Muse t' enlarge The Poet Mad-quack mov'd for his discharge He angry answer'd Parson 't is too soon As yet I have not Cur'd you of Lampoon For know New Bedlam chiefly for th' infected With this new sort of Madness was erected Bucks both and Rochester unless they mend Hither the King designs forthwith to send Shepherd and Dreyden too must on 'em wait For he 's resolv'd at once to rid the State Of this Poetick Wanton Mad-like Tribe Whose Rampant Muse does Court and City Gibe Thus Bedlam may be cur'd perchance if 't hits After despair of Physick by the Wits The answer pleas'd yet I have cause to fear The Doctor flatter'd as 't is usual here But if my Brethren come I 've learnt this Lesson In such good Company Bedlam is no Prison On the Doctors letting him Blood Doctor my Rhythmes on you which do reflect Know of Poetick fury are th' effect To let me Blood then you 're but Fool in grain Unless your Lance prick my Poetick Vein No longer now for shame pretend the Moon For Phoebus rules my Madness and Lampoon The Mistake TH' Occasion of this Error who can tell I