Mercurius Britanicus HIS VISION: BEING A REPLY To a Pamphlet lately printed, and termed, Britanicus his Welcome to Hell: WITH The Devills Blessing to Britanicus.
I have been silent long; but now am come
Abroad againe: The silent Judge speaks home.
LONDON, Printed for W. Ley. 1647.
Mercurius Britanicus his Reply TO A certaine Pamphlet lately printed, and termed, Britanicus his Welcome to Hell.
I Laugh to think, the Punies of this age
Should be inspir'd with such Poetick rage,
To venture forth 'gainst me, as if that I
Could not change prose, and whip with Poesie,
Because perhaps I too long have layen still,
And hav'e not, as I wonted, us'd my quill,
They think I sleep, and heare not of the wrongs
Vented by their two-edg'd malicious tongues:
Have I drank Laethe, think the foolish Crew,
That they their frothie follies dare to spew
On me, and not expect I should reply,
And castigate them for their foolery.
Do they not know, I quaile not at pale feare,
But when I write, my lines are most severe:
Should I these Fondlings suffer in their ill,
The whole world with their fopperies they'd fill.
Come and appeare, thou that didst late discusse,
And threw'st a Libell at Britanicus:
Thy toothlesse Satyre can't eclipse my fame,
Amongst the knowing I am still the same.
Wert thou so mad thy self for to prefer,
To be grim Pluto's punie Counseller?
I guesse, by the subsequence of thy story,
Thou hast been in S. Patricks Purgatory,
Where, through thy over-fasting, thou didst see
Perhaps thy Father, in the shape of mee:
The Devills did delude thee, they are wise,
And love with fancies fooles for to surprize.
Thou hoping for to get thy selfe renowne,
And to supply thy wants with a French Crowne,
Hast ventur'd to declare thy mind in verse,
Such as would shame
A foolish Poet.
Cherillus to rehearse.But this, if any, will thy glory be,
That I doe deigne in print to answer thee.
Dost thou exclaime against me, 'cause that I
Followed my Soveraigne with Hue and Crie?
Because my selfe so loyall I did show,
I durst so far for Englands good to go?
If that my zeale unto the publike good
Were not by some, as others, understood,
Must their misled misprisions light on me,
And they include as vile a soule as thee?
No; when the fatall Shee shall break my thread,
And I shall be one numbred with the dead,
When as JEHOVAH'S wil shall snatch me hence,
My credit will on earth be more immense;
When that the sordid issue of thy braine
The Muses sonnes shall look on with disdaine:
Thou think'st, thou hast made known thy wondrous skill,
In making Cerberus for to lie still,
While I do enter Hell; Foole, know, I ne're
Am destinated for to enter there.
It seems like Orpheus, my voice is sweet,
And that with pleasant close my lines do meet,
That Sysiphus relinquisheth his stone,
And
A Gyant who assaying to ravish Latona, was smitten with lightning by love, and throwne into hell, a vulture allotted to tire on his heart.
Titius ceaseth for to make his moaneWhen I appeare; thus dost thou parallel
Me with him fetcht Euridice from hell?
For thy perfumes and fare, and all the rabble
Of Furies like thy selfe, who thou dost babble
Shall be my waiters, all that I will say
Is this, thou sure with some Tarantula
VVert bit, and spewd'st thy venome all on me;
But heark what I'le relate concerning thee.
I know thee not, nor doe desire to see,
Unlesse through loop-holes I could visit thee:
Or as that famous
A Knight of Rome who putting on a case of Christall, went towards the Basalisk that then destroyed the Inhabitants of the City, and the Basaliske beholding it self burst in sunder.
Knight, when he beheldThe Basalisk, and all his force repell'd.
VVhat time Adeboran was mounted hie,
And Cynthias lustre beautified the skie,
VVhen all both men and beasts in silence were,
Me thought that there before me did appeare
A Swad like Charon with huge rowling eyes,
Like to a Goblin that babes terrifies;
A bottle nose, and a most fiery face,
A certain symptome he was of the race
Of Furies, perhaps Iucubus might deale
VVith fell Magera, and this biat reveale;
And drawing neerer, with a feeble tone,
He made to me this his relation.
From the black Lake that runs round Erebus,
I now am come to thee Britanicus,
By Saturnes sons command, to crave of thee
Remission, that my erring fantasie,
Deluded so my sense, I durst compile
And wrong great Pluto with my Verses vile:
When I made known his Welcome and his Blessing,
He storm'd, because it had such mimmick dressing,
And straight cal'd Homer with Musaeus
Orpheus.
heThat made stones move unto his melody,
And unto them, my verses he made known,
And did desire their approbation:
Who angry said, this fellowes lines we see
The very excrement of Verse to bee;
Meer crimes were never scan'd, great wrong is done
To Pluto, and his fierie Mansion.
That this man durst the honor to impaire
Of him that rules in hell, and in the ayre:
Let Minos scan his crime, and give his doome,
Let Radamanthus also hither come,
And denounce Judgement, we will heare the cause,
We know that Pluto's are like Draco's Lawes.
The powers of hell then straight assembled were,
Great Dis being seated in his flaming chaire,
Minos, and Radamanthus him plac't by,
Caligula and Nero sate them nigh,
Silla, and Marius on their right hand,
And at their left curst Machavell did stand,
'Bout whom innumerable spirits stood,
Who had escaped from the Stygian flood:
The charge was read, then Minos did proceed,
And thus revealed what they had decreed.
Since that a fellow lately did put forth
A Pamphlet, and in lines of little worth,
Hath beli'd Pluto in making of him free,
When he is void of all benignitie;
Telling the world that he is lov'd of us,
Whom we doe feare, and hate Britanicus,
And that we blest him, when he finds it so,
That Satan doth 'gainst him his utmost do,
He who we oft have sore Anathemiz'd
And caused Aulicus to stigmatize
With name of Traytor, he whom we hate more
Then he that slew the Erymanthian Bore.
He each week rous'd my Agent from the sin,
And told them what a bed they wallowed in,
Stuffed with Serpents, he each weeke made known
Their ills, and hindred their confusion;
So that hell's empty by his meanes, and we
Want many markt for our society:
For which hell's curse upon him, we will near
Have him amongst us, for we well may feare,
If he should come, he'd adde unto our woe,
And make us tremble, our owne fate to know:
But for this foole, so sawcie was to write,
When we not wished him, for to indite
But meerly by Alecto's inspiration,
He hath divulged to our defamation:
Let Tarpax place him in a gloomy Cell,
And there unto a pillar binde him well.
Let Vulcanes flames still parch his head and braine,
And let chill Hyems put his loines to paine,
Casting more chilly frost upon his feet
Then e're upon Mount Caucasus do meet;
Then let three furies ever pierce his skin,
Let each wound heale, that he new paine may win,
And there still dying, let him never die,
But howle and languish to eternitie.
When I had heard, I wondred at the story,
And said, since thou hast been so peremptory,
Thou must reap as thou sow'dst, art thou the man
That wrot'st Britanicus Hell's blessing wan?
He straight repli'd, know thou Britanicus,
That now before thee stands his
Anciently Jews, Gentiles and Christians held, that there were two Genii did attend on man, the one they called his Bonus Genius, the other his Malus Genius.
Genius.When Traitors sell their Countrey, and depart,
And are not tane to suffer their desert;
Their pictures are hang'd, for them which doth show,
They in due time themselves must suffer so;
So though he yet on the dull earth abide,
And yet 'mongst other mortalls doth reside,
Pluto to show that he doth love him well,
Is pleas'd to hang his picture now in hell:
I suffer till his soule his body leaves,
And what is due to him he now receives,
(By me) he is tormented with dire paine
As Witches stab the picture, when they faine
Would kill the substance: when he thus had said,
Straight from me vanisht the delusive shade;
For the swift houres unto the suns bright care
Had ty'd his horses, and Sol did prepare
To gallop round the world: thus back to thee
Who e're thou wert that didst calumniate me;
I have return'd thine own, hereafter feare
How thou provokest me, in print t'appeare.
THE END.