THE Common-HUNT, OR, THE PURSUTE OF THE POPE.
RELIGION having suffer'd long,
Scarce knowing who had done her wrong;
Her Proselytes together flew
By th' Ears, to kill they knew not who.
Here lay, making a heavy stir,
Fifth-Monarchy and Presbyter;
There Independent, after Pause,
Demanding for the
Good old Cause:
Next Anabaptist, and his Train,
Put in for
Dipping o're again;
While
Yea and
Nay, with his
new Light,
Quarrels, altho he dare not fight;
Next enters, after many knocks,
Episcopacy Orthodox;
[Page 2] She, propper Lady of the soil,
Composes the unhappy Broil.
Now all is well, and all goes right,
There's no need now to hate or fight,
Now Pro
[...]elytes may all agree,
And live in Love and Liberty:
But hold, poor Church! and thou shalt find,
That thy worst Enemy's behind,
Who with his superstitious Crew
Does seek thee utterly t' undoe.
'Tis he who, in Queen
Mary's Regions,
Sent Saints to Heaven by whole Legions:
'Tis he who did, in Eighty eight,
Strike both at
Englands Church and State:
'Tis he who did, in Powder Plot,
At
England aim, but mist his shot:
'Tis he who has so oft, at Pleasure,
Exhausted
Englands well got Treasure:
'Tis he whose greatest Envy is
'Gainst
Englands fair Metropolis:
'Tis he, that Dam'ner great of souls,
Who Christianity Controuls:
[Page 3] 'Tis he who did in
Sixty Six,
His flaming Sword in
London fix:
'Tis he who, big with fire and Nitre,
It's Suburbs Sacrific'd to th' Mitre:
'Tis he, who Nursing Mother sent
Unto our Church, with this intent,
Not to be kind to it, but rather
T'orelay the Babe, and kill the Father:
'Tis he, grand Patron of Confusion,
Who works in Houses Dissolution:
'Tis he who, true Arch-Rebel Monger,
'Gainst elder Brother sets the younger,
And nothing less than Saint-ship brings
To Villains that dare kill their Kings:
He who, at distance, can Preferr
In any Realm a Treasurer,
And Murther Minister of Justice
That dare act up to what his Trust is:
And yet, though he have nothing less,
No Name fits him, but Holiness.
Now then,
So Ho! methinks I see
This Monster in Effigie,
[Page 4] Th' Unkennel'd Fox with speed pursue,
He stinks already, Boys
Halloo;
Fling in fresh Zeal and Loyalty,
The Leaders of the
Chace to be,
Let all Mouths open, that
ful-cry
We may run down this Enemy;
Stop all his Grounds, that he may be
Defenceless 'gainst his Destiny:
His Jesuitick Cubs Immure,
If
Jesus Flock you would secure;
Spare not for Horse-flesh, follow on,
The Day already is half gone;
Chase him through every Disguise,
He'll piss on's Tail to blind your Eyes,
But run him home, for soon he Dyes;
If he chance t'Earth, dig after him,
The Country will with Spades come in.
Never then let your Spirits droop,
Till you have caught, uncas'd, and cry'd
who whoop.
FINIS.