THE CONSPIRACY OF GUTS and BRAINS: OR AN ANSWER TO THE Twinn-Shams.
EACH Grave Oracular Wight about the Town,
Has learnt to rail and bark against the Gown;
And Light-within-men with a full Mouth'd cry
Run down the Heights of Church and Monarchy:
These are the Rods and Axes, Whips and Arms,
The fancied Causes of Old
England's harms:
[...]
[Page 2] Away with such poor Bards to some fit School;
Send e'm to th' Wise, and less fantastick Owl:
He ne'er do'es challenge the sweet Nightingale,
With his coarse Notes, and downright Evening-Tale,
Nature is his Director; and when He
Holds forth by Night, either in Barn, or Tree,
Ne'er dreams of Inward Light, or turns vain Fool;
Ne'er did he yet pretend to be a gifted Owl;
And surely He's much wiser of the Two,
That do's at Nature's Call, sing Hoo, hoo, hoo,
Than he that 'gainst all Natural Light do's bawl,
And play the Fool ith language of Saint
Paul.
Those boding Ills, which Men of Thought do feare,
Worse than the dark Events of gen'rous War,
Come from the Chair Infallible, and Tub,
From Subtle Jesuite, and unthinking Mob.
Whate'er Mens hearts do's with dire horrour shake,
The Wolf in peaceful garb, the gilded Snake,
Thunder and Storms, and rank infernal Spite,
Are summ'd up in one Word, a Jesuite:
A Jesuite! Legion thou mak'st me start;
Ith' Name of Holy Mother Church, What art?
Giant or Monster, or some Goblin dress't
In Angels Colours fair above the rest
Of the Black Order's; like th' Old Serpent wise,
Or
Romish Imp in Protestant Disguise?
For sure thy Name's a Charm shou'd conjure up
Old
Gregory the Great, and all the Troop
Of his Admirers, force 'em to disown
Th' inglorious Name of Reformation.
[Page 3] Of all the Ills that e're came Imp't from Hell,
There's none more dangerous than Phanatick Zeal.
The Great Physitian of our Soul cou'd nee'er
Vanquish this kind of Raging Calenture:
Whores, Debauchees, and Devils he restrain'd,
But Scribes and Pharisees his Pow'r disdain'd,
Like Great
Alphonso, who so proudly taught
Omniscience doted, when the World was wrought,
They did convincing Miracles out-face,
And sought to bring the Godhead to disgrace:
Such wild Religious Frenzy then did rage;
And such lew'd Zeal infects the present Age:
Bawds, Common Rogues, and Villains still relent,
Through fear of Hell or Gibbet can repent:
But Jesuits Eternally drive on,
And count the Axe and Halter their Renown:
As if
Zacheus-like, they climb'd the Tree,
Th' Al'mighty Saviour of the World to see:
They are God's Holy
Jacobs, and can 'spy
Angels descending to 'em from an High,
When they the Ladder mount, when call'd to dye.
Kind Heav'n that wou'd restrain 'em is drawn in
To be a Friend and Party in the Sin:
Conscience it self turns bawd to such Abuses,
Each Lust is set apart for Pious Uses.
Such are the Men, that in Religious Fashion
wou'd at once Ruine and Reform our Nation;
That Thunder at us with Insulting Breath,
Vengeance and Woes, a Pulpitful of Death.
Damnation sweeps us all: They're not so civil
To us, as
Origen was to the Devil.
[Page 4] While to themselves most happy and secure,
No Thought, no Word, or Action is Impure;
They're meek while they do Damn, kind when they kill,
And Holy, while they Act the grossest Ill;
Most Rare Defenders of the Publick Good,
Ev'n while they Revel in a Kingdom's Blood.
Such Saintship is meer Juggle and Romance;
Such Peace of Soul is Lethargy and Trance,
Their Worship's Mummery, their Creed's a Spell,
Their Faith is Witchcraft, and a Type of Hell:
And should they Dying such vile Thoughts, retain,
Though they were plac't in Heav'n, they'd fall again:
They'd soon Commence Incendiaries there,
And raise a new Commotion 'bove the Sphear.
2.
Bless me what Ills have my Fore-Fathers done?
Or what have I transacted 'bove the Sun,
Ith' pre-Existent State of Humane Souls,
When Spirits first transgrest their Maker's Rules
That I should live Sentenc't and Doom'd to see
Such Solemn, Stanch, Religious Knavery;
To see a Dire Impostor act the Fool,
And Tumbler-like shew Tricks upon a Stool,
Sweat three long hours, and then sit down and cool:
To hear a
Roman Cut-Throat in Disguise
With Holy Wheedle and Embroyder'd Lies,
The poor Deluded Mobile Surprize.
[Page 5] How are good People ravisht at the sight,
Legerdemain oth' Sanctimonious Wight,
When he with pow'rful Sin-confounding Face,
A Gracious Wink, soft Leer, and Whining Grace
Has done his Righteous Cant? Ah, verily
'Tis a good Man, cryes each Professing She;
An Upright, Broken-Hearted, Gifted Man,
My over-shadow'd Hear's Soul-dead'ning pain
Is start aside at Words that came along,
Like Fatness, Oyl, and Marrow from his Tongue:
The precious Oyntment of Soul-searching Grace
Ran down his Soul, as sweat ran down his Face:
O nothing's sure so sweet and powerful
As this Divine Anointing of the Soul
Then speaks a Brother Sanctifi'd and Wise,
A Spiritual Light within me do's arise,
Such as self seeking Hirelings can't infuse,
That sinfull Forms, and vain Aprocypha use:
What Wisdom can such graceless ones inherit,
That Preach without th
[...] Licence of the Spirit?
This Zealous Light-Infusing Man of Grace
Has ta'ne my Carnal Eyes quite from my Face;
Taught my Regenerate Eye-sight to behold
No things that favour rankly of this World,
But that above, where Righteous Brother
Del,
Pym, Hobson, Hacket, Field, and
Debman dwell.
He taught us to Instruct our Souls by Night
With Prayer of Faith, and Word of Inward Light;
And then proud
Babylon's downfall we shall see,
For why, the Chosen of the Lord are we:
Thousands have sigh'd, Ten Thousands in the Land
Have wish'
[...] the days of
Sion were at hand:
Lately Mob met, and Pin man from a Stall
Cry'd Sufferings, Sufferings (Lord!) Tyrannical
Ah, Brethren! Carnal Pow'rs must have a fall:
Then many a Tear did drop, and many a Sigh,
Enough to raise a Fogg ith' room, did fly.
Mean time ith' midst oth' Prick-Ear'd Crowd did stand
Mob's Secretary, call'd the Short-hand-Man;
A Scribe in Querpo with a short-cut Cloak,
And Sage Prophetick Beard, which made him look
Like Fam'd Philosopher's Phiz in Fortune Book.
His trusty head was cover'd with blurr'd Skin,
One side bespake him
Midas, t'other
Pryn:
With side-long Nod it sometimes seem'd to rowl,
Like an o're-leaded, or ill-bias't Bowl.
A
Julian's Leer, and Ominous Grimace
This Minor Prophet had, you soon wou'd trace
The Lines of Reformation in his Face.
Meagre and Thin, like Benedict in Cell,
When Devil in a Pet had broke his Bell.
He had, to note his Eminence and Fame
Some hardish Sinner-shaking Christian Name;
Far beyond
Habakkuk or
Obadiah,
The Doughty Armour-bearer to
Goliah
Look't not so fell: A Superstitious Wight
Had cross'd himself at the portentous sight.
His Left Hand Book, his Right a Pen did bear;
Two Pens in Ambuscade, within Crop't Hair,
Above the Hilts were stuck behind notch't Ear.
At ev'ry pon'drous Sentence, and each proof
He wrote; yet knew to stop at ev'ry Cough:
[Page 7] So well instructed Steed will stand or go,
At Driver's Signal giv'n by Jee or Ho.
It seems this Holy Penman (so he's stil'd)
Shew'd strange Prophetick Omens, when a Child;
At Two years old, and half, the Suckling Saint
Before he well could speak, had learn't to Cant:
It look demurely, made a hideous Game
At Rites and Forms; and trembled at the Name
Of Horned Beast; as if
Mad Tom had blown
Or Bug-bear Sow gelder were come to Town.
He got his Fame by a kind hurt ith' Skull,
And soon did Wise Commence by being Dull
So a Fam'd
* Idiot ith' Court of
Spain
Grew up a Wit by a Disease ith' Brain;
And
Loyola by being Craiz'd and Lame
The Authour of a Mighty Sect became:
Now our Renown'd and Perillous Scribe's become
The Great Shop-Theologue of all the Town:
And, in pursuit of Holy Teacher's Rules,
Leads on a Pack of dang'rous Lustie Tools.
If he but speak, loud Slaves shall make Reply,
And Thund'ring Zealots shake the Trembling Skie;
They that cry Nails, and Knives from Door to Door,
Shall start up Grand Reformers in an hour;
[Page 8] And all by Light infus'd: As once a Clown
Fancied his
* Ass had swallow'd up the Moon.
In the last place, to help the Brethren's wants,
Joyns a long Train of Under-graduate Saints,
Call'd
† Moderate Men; of Humane kind the blot;
A Mongrel Brood 'twixt
English-man and
Scot:
A Medley Rout, a Parti-colour'd Pack;
Like Tawny 'twixt a White Man and a Black.
Equivocal Non sense, sprung from Clouds and Dreams!
For ev'ry Sect's a mean betwixt Extreams.
The
Jew, the
Papalin, and
Mussel-Man
May all lay claim to th' Golden Name of Mean.
Thus half Wit is of middle Excellence
'Twixt down-right Folly, and Exalted Sense:
[Page 9] And th' Airy Kingdom where Black Daemons dwell,
Is own'd a middle Stage 'twixt Heav'n and Hell.
The Spruce bespangled Fop, that pores on Miss,
And sells his Manly Freedom for a Kiss,
Who free from future harms, and voy'd of fears,
His Heav'n like
Atlas, on his Shoulders wears,
And shews his Wisdom chiefly in his Dress,
On which depends his Fame, and Happyness;
Is scarce more vile than that Vain-glorious Clod,
That plays with decent forms, before his God.
Mischief's his Darling Province and Delight,
He go's to Church not out of Zeal, but Spite:
He quarrels with the Pray'rs which he do's use,
And what he swallows, up again he Spews:
He Nauseates Manna, Loaths his daily Food;
And truly hath no Stomach to be good.
The Church which he frequents, he seeks t' undoe,
By which dull Ambidexter let's you know,
His highest flights of Zeal are Paint and Show.
Thus is he, (for he knows not this we hope)
Blind Fidler to the Jesuite and the Pope.
By him poor Honest
Tobit's left ith' Lurch,
And with his Dog lash't,, and turn'd out oth' Church:
Bel and the
Dragon too he do's Impeach,
Like him that took
Cabala for a Witch:
A Picture on a Wall, or Window spread,
Confounds him worse than Hag
Medusa's head;
[Page 10] And makes him puling, sick, and languishing,
But above all, he shoots his Scorn and Pride
Against his own (ah! too conforming) guide:
He joyns with zealous Gossips to run down
The poor Ungratious Parson of the Town,
And with a Fate-denouncing brow can preach
Judgment, and Woe, to th' Unregenerate Wretch:
The Gravest Saints in Corners sweetly joyn,
Club o'er the Creature, and Cabal in Wine:
Sisters with Caudles safely may prepare
Dear Holder-forth for a New Spiritual War,
And with strong Cordials arm the thund'ring Wight,
As
Dutch drink Brandy when they go to fight:
But if the Man in
Black but chance to meet
With Friend, to sacrifice to Mirth and Wit;
Each sneering Fop lies squibbing at his Fame,
And brands him with some Antichristian Name:
If in his Life seav'n times (as may the best)
He chance to fall; his very Name's a Jest;
He's dubb'd the Man of Sin, and thought the Beast.
[Page 11] Nay, if he rise but up to Sol'mon's Rule,
Is gay and pleasant, he's a Carnal Fool;
While he, that's drunk with Frantick Zeal and Rage,
Is th' only wise and sober Man oth' Age.
Poor
Noah, David, Lot, and good Saint
Paul
By our Precisians rules do sentenc't fall;
While Scribes and Pharisees alone possess
The Seats of Glory, and the Land of Bliss.
I challenge all Mankind to prov't untrue,
Should Christ himself his Life on Earth renew,
They'd call him Bibber and Deceiver too:
He would their Spleen, and Cholerick Zeal enrage,
By taxing the lewd Saints oth' present Age.
'Tis pleasant to observe, how each grave Wretch,
Or Whining Oracle has learnt to fetch,
And carry News; and foot it up and down
To purchase Tales of ev'ry Canting Clown:
If sped, he triumphs; if he fails, he grieves;
For on such Rubbish he depends and lives.
His tender, nice, distemper'd, squeamish Soul
Feeds upon Trash, and Stories that are foul:
These are his Daily Bread, his Morning Draught,
His Midnight Exercise, and waking Thought.
With a shrew'd Nod he'll sometimes intimate
Somewhat he can, but w'ont Communicate:
You'd think he had Degree of Wiseman took
From Hieroglyphick Schemes, or Almanack-Book.
Next 'twards the King his random course he steers;
And Honours him, just as his God he fears:
If Rulers will his Darling Ends advance,
He deviates into Loyalty by chance:
[Page 12] But still the Sacred Rights of Maiesty
Are beams oth' Multitude, not Deity:
O rare Invention! a poor sensless Clod
Become th' Almighty Parent of a God.
Eternal Chaos of distracted thought!
Surely to such Transub's an easie draught.
Pow'r can no more this dull way be infus'd,
Than out of Matter sprightly form educ'd.
Vapours may cloud the Sun, not make it bright.
And
Mob may Kings Eclipse, not give 'em Light.
Thrice wretched they, who've learnt th' accursed thing
To Dawb Divinity, and Debase a King;
A Notion which all Sacred Claim destroys;
And the tame Monarch all his Life enjoys
A Dream of Majesty, a Fairy Crown,
A Mummer's Scepter, and a Play'er's Throne.
(May Valiant
William share a Nobler Fate;
And ever live, as he do's fight, in State.)
Such Men may search for Truth in
Pagan Schools,
And learn Allegiance from rude
Indian Scrolls:
They never think on Means, but view the End;
And serve their God, as
Montaigne wou'd his Friend.
And when they've Libell'd Kings, and Temples storm'd;
They e'en may go to
Rome to be Reform'd.
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ADVERTISEMENT.
THE Loyal and Impartial Satyrist: Containing Eight Miscellany Poems. Price 6 d.
A Posie for Lovers: Or the Terrestrial Venus Unmask't. Price 6 d. Both Printed for Thomas Speed, at the Three Crowns in Cornhil, near the Royal Exchange. 1694.