THE EXPLANATION.
BEhold Here, in This Piece, the
Plague, the
Fate
Of a
Seditious Schism in
Church, and
State:
Its
Rise, and
Progress; with the dire
Event
Of a
Blind Zeal, and a
Pack'd Parliament.
It was
This Medly that Confounded All;
This damn'd
Concert of
Folly and
Cabal,
That Ruin'd us: For ye must know, that
Fools
Are but
State-Engins; Politicians Tools
Ground to an Edg, to Hack, and Hew it out;
Till by
Dull Sots Knaves Ends are brought about.
Think on't, my Masters; and if e're ye see
This Game play'd o're again, then Think of Me.
You'l say This Print's a
Satyr. Against
Whom?
Those that Crown'd
Holy Charles with
Martyrdom.
By the same rule the
Scripture you'l Traduce,
For saying
Christ was
Crucifi'd by th'
Iews:
Nay, and their
Treasons too agreed in
This;
By
Pharisees Betray'd; and with a
Kiss:
Conscience, the
Cry; Emanuel was the
Word;
The
Cause, the
Gospel, but the
Plea, the
Sword.
[
A] Now lay your Ear close to that Nest of
Heads.
Look, don't ye see a
Streaming Ray, that sheds
A Light from the
Cabal down to the
Table;
T' inspire, and Push on an
Enthusiast Rabble?
In
That Box sits a
Iunto in Debate,
Upon their
Sovereigns and
Three Kingdoms Fate:
They're Hot, and Loud enough. Attend 'um pray'e,
From point to point; and tell us what they say.
Is it Resolv'd then that the King must Down?
Not for a World; we'l only take his
Crown:
He shall have
Caps, and
Knees still; and the Fame
Of a
fair Title, and
Imperial Name:
But for the
Sword; the Power of
War, and
Peace;
Life and
Death; and such Fooleries as These;
We'l beg
These Boons our
selves: And Then, in Course,
What cannot be Obtain'd by
Prayer, we'l
Force.
It rests, now, only; by what
Arts and
Friends,
Methods, and
Instruments, to gain
These Ends.
First, make the
People Sure; and That must be
By Pleas for
Conscience, Common Liberty:
By which Means, we secure a
Popular Voice
For
Knights and
Burgesses, in the
Next Choice.
If we can get an
Act, Then, to Sit on
Till we
Dissolve our Selves, the work's
Half-done.
In the mean while, the
Pulpits, and the
Presses
Must ring of
Popery, Grievances, Addresses,
Plots of all Sorts,
Invasions, Massacres,
Troops under Ground, Plague-Plaisters, Cavaliers:
Till, Mad with
Spite and
Iealousie, the Nation
Cry out, as One Man, for a
Reformation.
Having thus gain'd the
Rabble; it must be our
Next Part, the
Common-Council to secure:
And then; let
King, Law, Church, and
Court-Cabal
Vnite, and do their
Worst; we'l Stand 'em
All.
Our Design's This; to Change the
Government;
Set up our
Selves; and do't by a
Parliament.
And This t' effect needs only
Resolution;
We'l leave the
Tumults to do
Execution.
The
Popish Lords must
Out, Bishops must
Down;
Strafford must
Dye; and
Then, have at the
Crown.
We will not leave the
King, One Minister;
The
House, One Member; but what We Prefer:
No nor the
Church, One Levite; Down they go:
We, and the
'Prentices will have it so.
[
B] This was scarce sooner
Said, than the thing
Done:
For up starts
Little Isaac, in the Room
Of
Loyal Gourney, with a
Sword in's hand;
The
Ensign of his New-usurpt
Command:
Out of his Mouth, a
Label, to be
True
To the Design of the
Caballing Crew:
[
C] His
Holiness at's Elbow;
Heart'ning on,
A
Motly Schism; Half-Pope, Half-Puritan;
Who, while they talk of
Vnion, bawl at
Rome;
Revolt, and set up
Popery at
Home.
[
D] Now, bring your Eye down to the
Board; and see
Th'
Agreement of that Blest
Fraternity:
Cov'nanters All; and by
That Holy Band
Sworn En'mies to th' Establisht
Law o'th'
Land.
These are the Men that Plague all
Parliaments
For the
Impossible Expedients
Of making
Protestant Dissenters, One,
By Acts of
Grace, or
Comprehension:
When by their very
Principles, each other
Thinks himself bound to Persecute his
Brother.
They never
Did, they never
Can Unite
In any
one Point, but t' o'rethrow the
Right:
Nor is't at all th'
Intent of
Their Debate
To fix
Religion, but t' embroil the
State;
Ill
Accidents and
Humours to
improve,
Under the fair Pretexts of
Peace, and
Love;
To serve the Turn of an
Vsurping Power.
But read the
Minutes, and
They'l tell ye
More.
[
E] Take a view, next, of the
Petitioners.
But why, (you'l say) like
Beasts to th'
Ark in
Pairs?
Not to expose the
Quaker, and the
Maid,
(By Lust to those Brutalities betray'd)
As if
those two Sects more addicted stood
To
Mares, and
Whelps, than
other Flesh and Blood:
No, But they're coupled Here, only to tell
The
Harmony of their
Reforming Zeal.
[
F] Now wash your Eyes, and see their
Secretarius
Of
Vncouth Visage; Manners most
Nefarious;
Plac'd betwixt
Pot and
Pipe, with
Pen and Paper;
To shew that he can
Scribble, Tope, and
Vapour:
Beside him, (craving Blessing) a
Sweet Babby;
(Save it!) the very
Image of the
Daddy!
He deals in
Sonnets, Articles, takes
Notes,
Frames
Histories, Impeachments, enters
Votes,
Draws
Narratives, (for
Four Pound) very well;
But then 'tis
Forty more, to Pass the
Seal.
Beside his Faculty, at a
Dry Bob,
That brings him many a comfortable Job.
[
G] Mark, Now, Those
Club-men; That
Tumultuous Rout
Crown, Bible, Magna Charta, under Foot!
Those
Banners, Trophies; and the Execrable
Rage, and Transports of an
Incensed Rabble!
Here, the
Three States in
Chains; and
There, the Head
Of a
Good King, by
Rebels Murthered.
And all this while, the Creatures of Those Knaves,
That blew the Coal, themselves, the greatest Slaves.
What Devil could make Men Mad, to This Degree?
Only
mistaken Zeal, and
Iealousie.
Liberty, Conscience, Popery, the
Pretence;
Rapine, Blood, Sacriledge, the
Consequence.
[
H] Let's Cross the way, Now, to the
Doctors Side.
'Tis a good,
pretty Girl, that holds his
Head!
What's his Disease, Sweet-heart? Nay, That's a Question;
His Stomach's Foul, perhaps, 'tis
Ill Digestion;
But 'tis a mercy, 't comes so finely away:
Here's
Canons, Surplices, Apocrypha!
Look what a Lump there lies of Common-Prayer.
Ay, but the
Cross in Baptism, that lies There:
O, how he
Reacht; and still, as I provok'd him,
He'd Heave for Life; 'twas Ten to One 't had Choakt him!
Nay verily; This Stuff, in Holder-forth,
May be as much as a man's Life is worth.
How Do ye Sir? Why somewhat more at Ease,
Since I've Discharg'd these
Legal Crudities.
But if your Stomach be so extremely Nice;
What Course d'ye take? O, I have Good Advice:
All the
Dissenting Protestant-Divines;
There's not a man in the whole Club, but Joyns.
This Pect'ral,
[...]ou must know, keeps me alive;
Sequester'd Livings are
Preservative!
But for the Sovereign Remedy of all,
The Only,
never-failing Cordial;
There 'tis upon
That Shelf: That Composition
Th'
Assembly Took, it
self, in
my Condition.
The
Tears of
Widows, Orphans Hearts, and
Blood
They made their
daily Drink, their
daily Food:
Behold our
Christian Cannibal's Oblation,
To auspicate their
Moloch Reformation.
[
I]
Well! But what means This Excremental Swarm
Of Humane Insects?
How they Fret, and Storm;
Grin at the Vomit; and yet for all this Pother;
At the same Time, lie teizing one another.
Alas! 'Tis too, too true, you've hit my Grief:
And there's no Help, no Help for't; no Relief.
While
They joyn'd Hands with
Vs, against the
Crown,
And
Church; How sweetly the Lords Work went on!
But when we came to plant our
Directory,
'Bless me, what Freaks they play'd!
you know the Story.
Oh! of
themselves, they're e'en a
Vip'rous Brood;
Begot in
Discord, and
brought up with
Blood.
'Twas
We that gave 'em
Life, Credit, and
Name,
Till the
Vngrateful Brats devour'd their
Dam.
What could ye look for else? For 'tis Dominion,
That you do all contend for, not Opinion.
If you'l have any Government;
then say,
Which Party shall Command,
and which Obey.
Power
is the thing ye both Affect,
and Hate,
Every one would,
ye Cannot, All be Great.
This is, in
short, the Sum of the Contest;
Still He
that's Up,
's an Eye-sore to the Rest.
Presbytery
breeds Worms:
This Maggot-Fry
Is but the Spawn of Lawless Liberty.
License, is like a Sea-Breach to your Grounds;
Suffer but One Flaw, the whole Country Drowns.
LONDON: Printed by Mary Clark, for Henry Brome, at the Gun in St. Paul's Church-yard, 1681.