So Capancus two armies fill'd with wonder When he charg'd Jove, and grappled with his thunder;

Both hofts with filence and with terror fhook,
As if not he, but they, were thunder-strook.
The courage here, and boldness, was no lefs;
Only the caufe was better, and fuccefs.
Heaven will let nought be by their cannon donc,
Since at Edgehill they finn'd, and Burlington.
Go now, your filly calumnies repeat,
And make all Papilts whom you cannot beat!
Let the world know fome way, with whom
you're vext,

And vote them Turks when they o'erthrow you next!

Why will you die, fond men! why will you buy
At this fond rate your country's flavery?
Is 't liberty? What are thofe threats we hear? *
Why do you thus th' old and new prison fill?
When that's the only why; because you will?
Fain would you make God too thus tyrannous be,
And dann poor men by such a stiff decree.
Is 't property? Why do fuch numbers, then,
From God beg vengeance, and relief from men?
Why are th' eftates and goods feiz'd-on, of all
Whom covetous or malicious men mifcall?
What's more our own than our own lives?
But oh

Could Yeomans or could Bourchier find it fo?
The barbarous coward, always us'd to fly,
Did know no other way to fee men die.
Or is 't religion? What then mean your lyes,
Your facrileges, and pulpit-blafphemies?
Why are all fects let loofe that ere had birth,
Since Luther's noife wak'd the lethargic earth?
The Author went no further.

THE PURITAN AND THE PAPIST.

A SATIRE.

O two rude waves, by ftorms together thrown, Roar at each other, light, and then grow oue. Religion is a circle; men contend, And run the round in difpute, without end: Now, in a circle, who go contrary, Muft, at the laft, meet of neceflity. The Roman Catholic, to advance the cause, Allows a lye, and calls it Pia Fraus; The Puritan approves and does the fame, Diflikes nought in it but the Latin name: He flows with his devices, and dares lye In very deed, in truth, and verity.

He whines, and fighs-out lyes with so much ruth, As if he griev'd 'caufe he could ne'er ípeak truth. Lyes have poffefs'd the prefs fo, as their due, "Twill fearce, I fear, henceforth print Bibles true. Lyes for their next strong fort ha' th' pulpit chofe; There they throng out at th' preacher's mouth and nofe,

A line is here evidently wanting; but the defect is in all the copies hitherto known.

And, howe'er grofs, are certain to beguile
The poor book-turners of the middle ifle:
Nay, to th' Almighty's felf they have been bold
Tolye; and their blafphemous minifter told,
They might fay falfe to God; for if they were
Beaten, he knew 't not, for he was not there.
But God, who their great thankfulness did fee,
Rewards them ftrait with another victory,
Juft fuch an one as Brentford; and, fans doubt,
Will weary, ere 't be long, their gratitude out.
Not all the legends of the faints of old,
Not vaft Baronius, nor fly Surius, hold
Such plenty of apparent lyes as are

In your own author, Jo. Browne, Cleric. Par.
Besides what your fmall poets faid or writ,
Brookes, Strode, and the baron of the faw-pit:
With many a mental reservation,

You'll maintain liberty:-Referv'd" your own. For th' public good the fums rais'd you'll difburf -Referv'd" the greater part, for your own puric. You'll root the Cavaliers out, every man; -Faith, let it be referv'd here "if ye can.' You'll make our gracious Charles a glorious king -Referv'd" in heaven" for thither ye wou bring

His royal head; the only fecure room

For kings; where fuch as you will never come. To keep th' eftates o' th' fubjects you pretend; -Referv'd" in your own, trunks." You wi defend

The church of England, 'tis your proteftation; But that's "New"-England by a small Ref

vation.

Power of difpenfing oaths the Papifts claim; Cafe hath got leave of God to do the fame : For you do hate all fwearing fo, that when You've fworn an oath, ye break it ftrait again. A curfe upon you! which hurts most these natier Cavaliers' fwearing, or your proteftations? Nay, though oaths be by you fo much abhor'd, Y'allow "God damn me" in the Puritan Lo

They keep the Bible from laynien; but ye Avoid this, for you have no laity. They in a foreign and unknown tongue pray, You in an unknown fenfe your prayers fay; So that this difference 'twixt you does enfueFools understand not them, not wife men you.

They an unprofitable zeal have got Of invocating faints, that hear them not; "Twere well you did fo; nought may more fear'd,

In your fond prayers, than that they should

heard.

To them your nonfenfe well enough might pas They'd ne'er fee that i' th' divine looking-glafs. Nay, whether you'd worship faints is not know For ye 'ave as yet, of your religion, none.

They by good-works think to be justify'd : You into the fame error deeper flide; You think by works too juftify'd to be. And thofe ill-works-lyes, treafon, perjury. But, oh! your faith is mighty; that hath been, As true faith ought to be, of things unfeen: At Wor'fter, Brentford, and Edgehill, we fee, Only by faith, ye 'ave got the victory.

Such is your faith, and some such unfeen way,
The public faith at laft your debts will pay.
They hold free-will (that nought their souls
may bind)

As the great privilege of all mankind;

You're here more moderate; for 'tis your intent
To make 't a privilege but of parliament.
They forbid priests to marry; you worse do;
Their marriage you allow, yet punish too;
For you'd make pries so poor,
that upon
all
Who marry icorn and beggary muft fall.
They a bold power o'er facred feriptures take,
Blot eat fome clanfes, and fome new ones make;
Your great lord Jefuit Brookes publicly faid
(Brookes, whom too little learning hath made
mad),

Thx to correct the Creed ye fhould do well,
And blot-out Chrift's defcending into hell.
Repeat, wild man! or you'll ne'er change, I
fear,

The fentence of your own defcending there.

Yet modeftly they ufe the Creed; for they Would take the Lord's-Prayer root and branch

away:

And wifely faid a Levite of our nation,
The Lord's Prayer was a Popifh innovation.
Take heed, you'll grant ere long it fhould be said,
An't be but to defire your daily bread.

They keep the people ignorant: and you Keep both the people and yourfelves fo too. Tey blind obedience and blind duty teach: You bind rebellion and blind faction preach; Nenithme you much, that ye advance That which can only fave you, Ignorance; Tagh, Heaven be prais'd!' has oft been proved well,

Torgnorance is not invincible;

Nach bold lyes to God himself ye vaunt,
As you'd fain keep him too ignorant.
Limbus and Purgatory they believe,
Treffer finners; that is, I conceive,
Magnants only: you this trick does pleafe;
The fame caufe ye 'ave made new Limbufes,
ere we may lie imprifon'd long, ere we
A day of judgment in your courts fhall fee.
Bet Pym can, like the Pope, with this difpenfe,
And for a bribe deliver fouls from thence.
Their councils claim infallibility:
ant your Conventicle-fynod be;
And teachers from all parts of th' earth ye call,
make 't a Council Oecumenical.

They feveral times appoint from meats' t'

abdin:

They in fucceeding Peter take a pride:
So do you; for your master ye 'ave deny'd.
But chiefly Peter's privilege ye choose,
At your own wills to bind and to unloofe.
He was a fisherman; you'll be so too,
When nothing but your fhips are left to you:
He went to Rome; to Rome you backward ride
(Though both your goings are by fome deny'd)
Nor is 't a contradiction, if we fay,

You go to Rome the quite contrary way.
He dy'd o' th' crofs; that death 's unufual now;
The gallows is most like 't, and that 's for you.

They love church-mufic; it offends your fenfe,
And therefore ye have fung it out from thence;
Which fhews, if right your mind be understood,
You hate it not as mufic, but as good:
Your madness makes you fing as much as they
Dance who are bit with a Tarantula.
But do not to yourfelves, alas appear
The moft religious traitors that e'er were,
Because your troops finging of pfalms do go;
There's many a traitor has march'd Holborn fo.
Nor was 't your wit this holy project bore;
Tweed and the Tyne have feen those tricks
before.

They of strange miracles and wonders tell : You are yourselves a kind of miracle; Ev'n fuch a miracle as in writ divine We read o'-th' devil' hurrying down the fwine. They have made images to fpeak: 'tis faid, You a dull image have your Speaker made;' And, that your bounty in offerings might abound, Ye 'ave to that idol giv'n fix thousand pound. They drive-out devils, they fay: here ye begin To differ, I confefs-you let them in.

They maintain tranfubstantiation;
You, by a contrary philofophers'-stone,
To tranfubftantiate metals have the skill,
And turn the kingdom's gold to it'n and steel.
I' th' facrament ye differ; but 'tis noted,
Bread must be flesh, wine blood, if e'er 't be voted.
They make the Pope their head; y'exalt for
him,

Primate and metropolitan, mafter Pym;
Nay, White, who fits i' th' infallible chair,
And most infallibly speaks nonsense there;
Nay, Cromwell, Pury, Whistler, Sir John Wray,
He who docs fay, and fay, and fay, and fay;
Nay, Lowry, who does new church-government
wish,

And prophefies, like Jonas, 'midst the fish;
Who can fuch various bufinefs wifely fway,
Handling both herrings and bifhops in one day:
Nay, all your preachers, women, boys, and men,
From mafter Calamy to mistress Ven,
Are perfect Popes, in their own parish, grown;
For, to out-do the ftory of pope Joan,
Your women preach too, and are like to be
The whore of Babylon as much as the.

They depofe kings by force: by force you 'd
do it,

But first use fair means to perfuade them to it. They dare kill kings: and 'twixt ye here's the

ftrife,

That you dare fhoot-at kings to fave their life:

And what's the difference, pray, whether he fall
By the Pope's Bull or your Ox general?
Three kingdoms thus you ye ftrive to make your

own,

And, like the Pope, ufurp a triple crown.
Such is your faith, fuch your religion;
Let's view your manners now, and then I've
done.

Your covetoufnefs let gafping Ireland tell,
Where first the Irifh lands, and next ye fell
The English blood, and raise rebellion here
With that which fhould fupprefs and quench it
there.

What mighty fums have ye fqueez'd out o' th' city!

Encugh to make them poor, and fomething witty.

Excife, loans, contributions, poll-monies,
Bribes, plunder, and fuch parliament privileges,
Are words which you ne'er learnt in holy writ,
Till th' Spirit, and your Synod, mended it.
Where's all the twentieth part now, which hath
been

Paid you by fome, to forfeit the nineteen?
Where's all the goods distrain'd, and plunders paft?
For you 're grown wretched pilfering knaves at
laft;

Defcend to brafs and pewter, till of late,
Like Midas, all ye touch'd muft needs be plate.
By what vaft hopes is your ambition fed?
'Tis writ in blood, and may be plainly read:
You must have places, and the kingdom fway;
The king must be a ward to your lord Say.
Your innocent Speaker to the Rolls must rife;
Six thousand pound hath made him proud and

wife.

Kimbolton for his father's place doth cal!,
Would be like him ;-would he were, face and all!
Ifaack would always be lord- mayor; and fo
May always be, as much as he is now.
For the Five members, they fo richly thrive,
That they would always be but Members five.
Only Pym doth his natural right enforce,
By th' mother's fide he 's Mafter of the horse.
Moft fhall have places by these popular tricks,
The reft must be content with bishoprics.
For 'tis 'gainst fuperftition you 're intent;
First to root out that great church-ornament,
Moncy and lands: your fwords, alas! are drawn
Against the Bishop, not his cap, or lawn.

O let not fuch lewd facrilege begin,
Tempted by Henry's rich fuccefsful fin!
Henry! the monster king of all that age;
Wild in his luft, but wilder in his rage.
Expect not you his fate, though Hotham
In imitating Henry's tricks for wives;
Nor fewer churches hopes, than wives, to fee
Buried, and then their lands his own to be.

thrives

Ye boundless tyrants! how do you outvy Th' Athenians' Thirty, Rome's Decemviry! In rage, injustice, cruelty, as far

Above thofe men, as you in number are.
What mysteries of iniquity do we fee!
New prifons made to defend liberty!
Our goods forc'd from us for property's fake;
And all the real nonfenfe which ye make!

Ship-money was unjustly ta'en, ye say ;
Unjuftlier far, you take the fhips away.
The High Commiffion you call'd tyranny:
Ye did! good God! what is the High Com-
mittee?

Ye faid that gifts and bribes preferments bought:
By money and blood too they now are fought.
To the king's will, the laws men ftrove to draw:
The fubjects' will is now become the law.
'Twas fear'd a new religion would begin :
All new religions, now, are enter'd in.
The king delinquents to protect did strive:
What clubs, pikes, halberts, lighters, fav'd the Five!
You think th' parl'ment like your state of grace;
Whatever fins men do, they keep their place.
Invafions then were fear'd against the state;
And Strode fwore last year would be eighty-
eight.

You bring in foreign aid to your defigns,
First thofe great foreign forces of Divines,
With which fhips from America were fraught;
Rather may ftinking tobacco ftill be brought
From thence, I fay: next, ye the Scots invite,
Which you term brotherly-affiftance, right;
For England you intend with them to share :
They, who, alas! but younger brothers are,
Muft have the monies for their portion;
The houfes and the lands will be your own,
We thank you for the wounds which we endure,
Whilft fcratches and flight pricks ye fcek to

cure;

We thank you for true real fears, at last,
Which free us from fo many falfe ones paft;
We thank you for the blood which fats our coaft,
As a juft debt paid to great Strafford's ghoft;
We thank you for the ills receiv'd, and all
Which yet by your good care in time we fhall;
We thank you, and our gratitude's as great
As yours, when you thank'd God for being beat.
THE CHARACTER

OF AN HOLY SISTER.

SHE that can fit three fermons in a day, And of those three fcarce bear three words away; She that can rob her husband, to repair A budget-pricft, that noses a long prayer; She that with lamp-black purifies her fhocs, And with half-eyes and Bible foftly goes; She that her pockets with lay-gospel stuffs, And edifies her looks with little ruffs; She that loves fermons as fhe does the reft, Still standing stiff that longeft are the best; She that will lye, yet fwear fhe hates a lyar, Except it be the man that will lie by her; She that at chriftenings thirfteth for more fack, And draws the broadeft handkerchief for cake; She that fings pfalms devoutly next the street, And beats her maid i' th' kitchen, where none

fee 't;

She that will fit in fhop for five hours space,
And register the fins of all that pafs,
Damn at first fight, and proudly dares to say,
That none can poffibly be fav'd but they

2 viz. 1642.

III.

That hang religion in a naked ear,

And judge men's hearts according to their hair; That could afford to doubt, who wrote best fenfe,

Mofes, or Dod on the commandements;

She that can figh, and cry " Queen Elizabeth,"
Rail at the Pope, and fcratch-out "fudden
death:"

And for all this can give no reason why:
This is an holy-fifter, verily.

ANACREONTIQUES:

OR,

Should every creature drink but I; Why, man of morals, tell me why?

Begin, my Mufe! but lo! the strings
To my great fong rebellious prove;
The firings will found of nought but love.

I broke them all, and put on new;

Tis this or nothing fure will do.
Thefe fure (faid 1) will me obey;
Thefe, fure, heroic notes will play.
Strait I began with thundering Jove,
And all th immortal powers; but Love,
Love fmil'd, and from my'. enfeebled lyre
C. gentle airs, fuch as inspire
Melting love and foft defire.

Farewell, then, heroes! farewell, kings!
And mighty numbers, mighty things!
Love tunes my heart juft to my trings.

ΤΗ

II.

DRINKING.

"HE thirsty earth foaks up the rain, And drinks, and gapes for drink again. The plants fuck-in the earth, and are With conftant drinking fresh and fair; The fea itself (which one would think Should have but little need of drink) Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up, So fill'd that they o'erflow the cup. The bufy fun (and one would guess By 's drunken fiery face no lefs) Drinks up the fea, and, when he 'as done, The moon and stars drink up the fun : They drink and dance by their own light; They drink and revel all the night. Nothing in nature's fober found, But an eternal health goes round. Fill up the bowl then, fill it high, Fill all the glaffes there; for why

BEAUT Y.

IBERAL Nature did difpenfe

To all things arms for their defence;
And fome the arms with finewy force,
And fome with fwiftness in the course;
Some with hard hoofs or forked claws,
And fome with horns or tusked jaws:
And fome with fcales, and fome with wings,
And fome with teeth, and fome with stings.
Wisdom to man fhe did afford,

Wirdom for fhield, and wit for fword.
What to beauteous womankind,

What arms, what armour, has fhe' affign'd?
Beauty is both; for with the fair

What arms, what armour, can compare?
What steel, what gold, or diamond,

More impaffible is found?

And yet what flame, what lightning, e'er
So great an active force did bear?
They are all weapon, and they dart
Like porcupines from every part.

Who can, alas! their ftrength express,
Arm'd, when they themselves undrefs,
Cap-a-pie with nakedness ?

IV.

THE DUEL.

YES, I will love then, I will love;
I will not now Love's rebel prove,
Though I was once his enemy;
Though ill-advis'd and stubborn I,
Did to the combat him defy.
An helmet, fpear, and mighty fhield,
Like fome new Ajax, I did wield.
Love in one hand his bow did take,
In th' other hand a dart did shake;
But yet in vain the dart did throw,
In vain he often drew the bow;
So well my armour did refift,
So oft by flight the blow I mist:
But, when I thought all danger past,
His quiver empty'd quite at laft,
Inftead of arrow or of dart
He fhot himself into my heart.
The living and the killing arrow

}

}

Ran through the skin, the flefh, the blood,
And broke the bones, and fcorch'd the marrow,
No trench or work of life withstood,
In vain I now the walls maintain;
I fet out guards and scouts in vain;
Since th' enemy does within remain.
In vain a breaft-plate now I wear,
Since in my breaft the foe I bear;
In vain my feet their swiftnefs try:
For from the body can they fly?

V.

AGE.

FT am I by the women told,
Foot Anacreon! thou grow'ft old:
Look how thy hairs are falling all;
Poor Anacreon, how they fall!
Whether I grow old or no,
By th' effects I do not know;
This I know, without being told,
"Tis time to live, if I grow old;

Tis time fhort pleasures now to take,
Of little life the beft to make,
And manage wifely the laft ftake.

THE

WHE

VI.

ACCOUNT.

HEN all the ftars are by thee told,
(The endless fums of heavenly gold);
Or when the hairs are reckon'd all,
From fickly autumn's head that fall;
Or when the drops that make the sea,
Whilft all her fands thy counters be;
Thou then, and thou alone, may'st prove
Th' arithmetician of my love.
An hundred loves at Athens fcore,
At Corinth write an hundred more :
Fair Corinth does fuch beauties bear,
So few, is an escaping there.
Write then at Chios feventy-three;
Write then at Lefbos (let me fee)
Write me at Lefbos ninety down,
Full ninety loves, and half a one.
And, next to thefe, let me present
The fair Ionian regiment;
And next the Carian company;
Five hundred both effectively.

Three hundred more at Rhodes and Crete;
Three hundred 'tis, I'm fure, complete;
For arms at Crete each face does bear,
And every eye 's an archer there.
Go on this ftop why dost thou make?
Thon think'ft, perhaps, that I mistake.
Seems this to thee too great a fum?
Why many thousands are to come;
The mighty Xerxes could not boast
Such different nations in his hoft.
On; for my love, if thou be'ft weary,
Muft find fome better fecretary.
I have not yet my Perfian told,
Nor yet my Syrian loves enroll'd,
Nor Indian, nor Arabian;
Nor Cyprian loves, nor African:
Nor Scythian nor Italian flames;
'There's a whole map behind of names
Of gentle loves i' th' temperate zone,
And cold ones in the frigid one,
Cold frozen loves, with which I pine,
And parched loves beneath the Line.

VII.

GOLD.

A MIGHTY pain to love it is,

And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;
But, of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.
Virtue now, nor noble blood,
Nor wit, by Love is understood;
Gold alone does paflion move,
Gold monopolizes love;

A curfe on her, and on the man
Who this traffic first began!

A curfe on him who found the ore!
A curfe on him who digg'd the store!
A curfe on him who did refine it!
A curfe on him who firft did coin it!

A curfe, all curfes elfe above,
On him who us'd it first in love!
Gold begets in brethren hate;
Gold in families debate;
Gold does friendships separate;
Gold does civil wars create.
These the smallest harms of it!
Gold, alas! does love beget.

VIII.

THE EPICUR E. ILL the bowl with rofy wine! wine!

And let us cheerfully awhile,
Like the wine and rofes, fmile.
Crown'd with rofes, we contemn
Gyges' wealthy diadem.

To-day is ours; what do we fear?
To-day is ours; we have it here:
Let's treat it kindly, that it may
Wifh, at leaft, with us to stay.
Let's banish bufinefs, banish forrow;
To the Gods belongs to-morrow.

UNDE

IX.

ANOTHER.

NDERNEATH this myrtle fhade, On flowery beds fupinely laid, With odorous oils my head o'er-flowing, And around it rofes growing. What fhould I do but drink away 'The heat and troubles of the day? In this more than kingly flate Love himself fhall on me wait. Fill to me, Love, nay, fill it up; And mingled caft into the cup Wit, and mirth, and noble fires, Vigorous health and gay defires. The wheel of life no lefs will ftay In a smooth than rugged way: