Hudibras Redivivus or, a Burlesque poem on the times. The Second Edition. To which is added, An Apology, and some other Improvements throughout the Whole [by Edward Ward] |
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 | Hudibras Redivivus |  |
1
3. PART the Third.
3
CANTO IV.
I quitted now my smoaky Station,
Where Knaves and Fools preach Moderation,
And with that modish Cant, disguise
Their Spite, their Venom, and their Lies;
From whence, each Man of Sense may find
The Cobweb-Vertue is design'd
Only for Faction, to betray
The Crowd into a sinful Way,
And make them tamely, in the End,
Give up that Church they should defend.
So he that would a Man beguile,
Will talk devoutly all the while,
In Hopes the Bubble may believe him
Too good a Christian to deceive him;
By which fair Means he gains the Pow'r,
To wrong the easy Fool the more.
Where Knaves and Fools preach Moderation,
And with that modish Cant, disguise
Their Spite, their Venom, and their Lies;
From whence, each Man of Sense may find
The Cobweb-Vertue is design'd
Only for Faction, to betray
The Crowd into a sinful Way,
And make them tamely, in the End,
Give up that Church they should defend.
So he that would a Man beguile,
Will talk devoutly all the while,
4
Too good a Christian to deceive him;
By which fair Means he gains the Pow'r,
To wrong the easy Fool the more.
I had not long in open Street,
Been punishing my Corny Feet,
But creeping by the Side of Paul's,
Where Sinners flock to save their Souls,
I met a Pillar of the Church,
Just stepping out of Holy Porch,
Wrapp'd up in Rev'rend Gown and Cassock,
Looking as grave as Father Isaac.
Long painful Study, Age, and Cares,
Adorn'd his Head with Silver Hairs;
Kept warm within a Cap of Sattin,
With Wisdom lin'd, as well as Latin;
Whose humble Mein, and awful Face,
Were to his sacred Robes a Grace;
And when he spoke, his Language shew'd
He was not only Grave, but Good.
A faithful and a vertuous Guide,
Whose Conscience had for Years been try'd:
One who abhor'd Prevarication,
And all the Cant of Moderation;
But was a Christian Shepherd fully,
Who exercis'd his Vertues duly,
Not mod'rate Whiggishly, bat truly.
Been punishing my Corny Feet,
But creeping by the Side of Paul's,
Where Sinners flock to save their Souls,
I met a Pillar of the Church,
Just stepping out of Holy Porch,
Wrapp'd up in Rev'rend Gown and Cassock,
Looking as grave as Father Isaac.
Long painful Study, Age, and Cares,
Adorn'd his Head with Silver Hairs;
Kept warm within a Cap of Sattin,
With Wisdom lin'd, as well as Latin;
Whose humble Mein, and awful Face,
Were to his sacred Robes a Grace;
And when he spoke, his Language shew'd
He was not only Grave, but Good.
5
Whose Conscience had for Years been try'd:
One who abhor'd Prevarication,
And all the Cant of Moderation;
But was a Christian Shepherd fully,
Who exercis'd his Vertues duly,
Not mod'rate Whiggishly, bat truly.
With equal Gladness did we meet,
And kindly one another greet.
When we had ended that old Strain
Of How d'ye do, and do again?
Into Saint Paul's we took a Walk,
T'enjoy a little farther Talk:
For what on Earth can be more sweet,
Than for two loving Friends to meet,
Who, e'er they did the Truth discover,
Thought themselves Miles from one another?
And kindly one another greet.
When we had ended that old Strain
Of How d'ye do, and do again?
Into Saint Paul's we took a Walk,
T'enjoy a little farther Talk:
For what on Earth can be more sweet,
Than for two loving Friends to meet,
Who, e'er they did the Truth discover,
Thought themselves Miles from one another?
After we'd talk'd about the Craft
That rais'd the canting Tribe aloft,
And equally express'd our Wonder,
To see the Church turn'd strangely under,
At such a Time, when her Defender,
Altho' she's of the F---le Gender,
Does Tooth and Nail so nobly stand
By th'ancient Glories of the Land,
And with the Church walk Hand in Hand;
That Church, for which she spoke so warmly,
And ever since stood by so firmly.
That rais'd the canting Tribe aloft,
6
To see the Church turn'd strangely under,
At such a Time, when her Defender,
Altho' she's of the F---le Gender,
Does Tooth and Nail so nobly stand
By th'ancient Glories of the Land,
And with the Church walk Hand in Hand;
That Church, for which she spoke so warmly,
And ever since stood by so firmly.
My Friend in Sorrow shook his Head,
Then strok'd his Rev'rend Beard, and said,
Fair Speeches are a Prince's Talent;
But then, crys he Quid Verba valent?
'Tis hard sometimes by Words to find
The true Intention of the Mind;
Actions alone interpret best
The Meanings of a R---l Breast;
And when at any Time we see
Their Words and Actions disagree,
The latter we believe their Choice,
The former but an airy Voice.
Besides, he only is indeed
My Friend, that serves me in my Need;
But if he then shall suffer me
To want, and aid my Enemy,
A bare Acquaintance so unkind,
A Man had better lose, than find.
I must confess I would not trust
My Father, was he so unjust;
Nor can I credit such a Brother,
That says one Thing, and does another.
Then strok'd his Rev'rend Beard, and said,
Fair Speeches are a Prince's Talent;
But then, crys he Quid Verba valent?
'Tis hard sometimes by Words to find
The true Intention of the Mind;
Actions alone interpret best
The Meanings of a R---l Breast;
And when at any Time we see
Their Words and Actions disagree,
7
The former but an airy Voice.
Besides, he only is indeed
My Friend, that serves me in my Need;
But if he then shall suffer me
To want, and aid my Enemy,
A bare Acquaintance so unkind,
A Man had better lose, than find.
I must confess I would not trust
My Father, was he so unjust;
Nor can I credit such a Brother,
That says one Thing, and does another.
But, Rev'rend Doctor, pray, said I,
May not a mod'rate Man comply
With the establish'd Church o'th' Nation,
And thither go to seek Salvation,
Yet be allow'd to vote and stickle
For those that run to Conventicle?
Cannot he shew, without Evasion,
That modish Vertue, Moderation,
And keep in Charity with those,
He knows to be the Church's Foes?
May not a mod'rate Man comply
With the establish'd Church o'th' Nation,
And thither go to seek Salvation,
Yet be allow'd to vote and stickle
For those that run to Conventicle?
Cannot he shew, without Evasion,
That modish Vertue, Moderation,
8
He knows to be the Church's Foes?
Our Charity, the Guide replies,
We ought to shew to Enemies;
Without which Manly Christian Grace,
Mercy it self could have no Place:
But 'tis not Charity, or Vertue,
To strengthen those that mean to hurt you,
Or to advance the Reputation
Of such a vip'rous Congregation,
Who aim, thro' Envy, Pride, and Hate,
To overthrow both Church and State,
And bring that Faith into Disdain,
By which we hope to rise again;
And consonant to sacred Story,
Ascend to everlasting Glory.
No, no; such canting Moderation
Is wicked, base Prevarication:
All upright Christians must accuse it,
No Church-man can with Safety use it,
But he must lend a helping Hand
To sacrifice his native Land,
And bring that Church to Desolation,
On which depends his own Salvation.
We ought to shew to Enemies;
Without which Manly Christian Grace,
Mercy it self could have no Place:
But 'tis not Charity, or Vertue,
To strengthen those that mean to hurt you,
Or to advance the Reputation
Of such a vip'rous Congregation,
Who aim, thro' Envy, Pride, and Hate,
To overthrow both Church and State,
And bring that Faith into Disdain,
By which we hope to rise again;
And consonant to sacred Story,
Ascend to everlasting Glory.
No, no; such canting Moderation
Is wicked, base Prevarication:
All upright Christians must accuse it,
No Church-man can with Safety use it,
9
To sacrifice his native Land,
And bring that Church to Desolation,
On which depends his own Salvation.
Pray, Sir, said I, what think you then
Of such a mod'rate Race of Men,
Who entertain the Low-Church Notion,
Yet use the Church with great Devotion;
But shew in Words, and ev'ry Action,
They side with the dissenting Faction?
Of such a mod'rate Race of Men,
Who entertain the Low-Church Notion,
Yet use the Church with great Devotion;
But shew in Words, and ev'ry Action,
They side with the dissenting Faction?
Says he, such Men of whom you speak,
Are very Knaves, or very weak:
The former use the Church, like those
Who do their wicked Minds dispose
To rob a House, and that they may
The Fam'ly with more Ease betray,
One takes therein a Room or two,
As the Low-Church-man does his Pew;
And when he finds a proper Time
To perpetrate his wicked Crime,
Made by's Confederates Assistance,
Too strong and pow'rful for Resistance,
They Beat, Gag, Bind, or Murder those
That durst their Villanies oppose;
Then run away with all that's good,
And leave the Family in Blood;
Or if not murder'd, at the best,
Much injur'd, plunder'd, and distrest.
Are very Knaves, or very weak:
The former use the Church, like those
Who do their wicked Minds dispose
To rob a House, and that they may
The Fam'ly with more Ease betray,
One takes therein a Room or two,
As the Low-Church-man does his Pew;
And when he finds a proper Time
To perpetrate his wicked Crime,
10
Too strong and pow'rful for Resistance,
They Beat, Gag, Bind, or Murder those
That durst their Villanies oppose;
Then run away with all that's good,
And leave the Family in Blood;
Or if not murder'd, at the best,
Much injur'd, plunder'd, and distrest.
No better Usage should we find
From such Low-Church-men once conjoin'd
With factious Numbers to their Mind:
For tho' they come to Church to Pray'r,
They'd be the first that would betray her,
And will be found, when Danger's nigh,
The Snakes that in her Bosom lie.
From such Low-Church-men once conjoin'd
With factious Numbers to their Mind:
For tho' they come to Church to Pray'r,
They'd be the first that would betray her,
And will be found, when Danger's nigh,
The Snakes that in her Bosom lie.
But the weak Wretch, that is misled,
To nurse wild Notions in his Head,
And fancies, thro' the Want of Sense,
Religion's chiefest Excellence
Consists in dull Indifference;
And thinks it cannot be a Fault
To between two Opinions halt;
Or that it is no sinful Crime,
When Int'rest calls at any Time,
To run wi' th'Hare, or hold wi' th'Hound,
Since he keeps still on Holy Ground:
He understands not, peradventure,
The Peak 'twixt Church-man and Dissenter:
He knows no Diff'rence in the People,
But what he thinks is caus'd by th'Steeple.
One side he fancies does approve it,
And that the other cannot love it;
His narrow squinting Reason sees
No Feuds, but what his Mind agrees,
Arise from Trifles, such as these.
Therefore he thinks it best, in Troth,
To be indifferent 'twixt both;
And is a Friend so much to either,
That in his Heart he's truly neither:
He speaks the Church-man very fair,
Of Surplice, and of Common-Prayer;
But when amongst the Whigs he enters,
He's partial for the good Dissenters.
Thousands there are just such as these,
Who're neither, both, or which you please,
That by the Want of Sense and Thought,
Shew they've been better fed than taught.
These join in that prepost'rous Cry,
O let the Church, the Church comply,
They care not how, and know not why.
To nurse wild Notions in his Head,
And fancies, thro' the Want of Sense,
Religion's chiefest Excellence
Consists in dull Indifference;
11
To between two Opinions halt;
Or that it is no sinful Crime,
When Int'rest calls at any Time,
To run wi' th'Hare, or hold wi' th'Hound,
Since he keeps still on Holy Ground:
He understands not, peradventure,
The Peak 'twixt Church-man and Dissenter:
He knows no Diff'rence in the People,
But what he thinks is caus'd by th'Steeple.
One side he fancies does approve it,
And that the other cannot love it;
His narrow squinting Reason sees
No Feuds, but what his Mind agrees,
Arise from Trifles, such as these.
Therefore he thinks it best, in Troth,
To be indifferent 'twixt both;
And is a Friend so much to either,
That in his Heart he's truly neither:
12
Of Surplice, and of Common-Prayer;
But when amongst the Whigs he enters,
He's partial for the good Dissenters.
Thousands there are just such as these,
Who're neither, both, or which you please,
That by the Want of Sense and Thought,
Shew they've been better fed than taught.
These join in that prepost'rous Cry,
O let the Church, the Church comply,
They care not how, and know not why.
Suppose a Knave so base be grown,
At Law to sue me for my own,
Must I comply with his Demands,
That we in Friendship may shake Hands?
No; I'd not part with Straw or Stone,
The Rascal should have all or none:
For he that will his Right decline,
And with such Knaves in Friendship join,
Abets their villanous Design,
And makes the World, by his Submission,
Believe their wicked Imposition
No other, than a fair Condition.
At Law to sue me for my own,
Must I comply with his Demands,
That we in Friendship may shake Hands?
No; I'd not part with Straw or Stone,
The Rascal should have all or none:
For he that will his Right decline,
And with such Knaves in Friendship join,
Abets their villanous Design,
13
Believe their wicked Imposition
No other, than a fair Condition.
But, worthy Sir, said I, suppose
Your canting, half-fac'd Christian-Foes
Should tell you, they'd comply and join,
If you'd some friv'lous Things resign;
And they declare what 'tis they want;
Would not the Church those Trifles grant?
Your canting, half-fac'd Christian-Foes
Should tell you, they'd comply and join,
If you'd some friv'lous Things resign;
And they declare what 'tis they want;
Would not the Church those Trifles grant?
Says he, those Trifles which you spake on,
No Mortal can tell what to make on:
How should they, since we plainly see
Themselves about 'em can't agree?
They only quarrel out of Season,
Then study after for a Reason.
Like one that's frantick in his Cups,
Who hits his Friend a Slap o'th' Chops,
That offer'd nothing to provoke him,
Nor can he tell for what he struck him:
The same may of the Whigs be said,
With Pow'r and Wealth they're drunk and mad,
And in their Frenzy, huff and threaten
With what sad Stripes we shall be beaten,
In hopes, now Faction is so froward,
The peaceful Church, like feeble Coward,
Will such a tame Compliance shew,
As give their Cloaks, and Tunicks too:
But they shall find, that, Quaker like,
At second Blow we dare to strike,
And shall not to vile Hands deliver
That Church, of which Great God's the Giver.
No Mortal can tell what to make on:
How should they, since we plainly see
Themselves about 'em can't agree?
They only quarrel out of Season,
Then study after for a Reason.
Like one that's frantick in his Cups,
Who hits his Friend a Slap o'th' Chops,
That offer'd nothing to provoke him,
Nor can he tell for what he struck him:
14
With Pow'r and Wealth they're drunk and mad,
And in their Frenzy, huff and threaten
With what sad Stripes we shall be beaten,
In hopes, now Faction is so froward,
The peaceful Church, like feeble Coward,
Will such a tame Compliance shew,
As give their Cloaks, and Tunicks too:
But they shall find, that, Quaker like,
At second Blow we dare to strike,
And shall not to vile Hands deliver
That Church, of which Great God's the Giver.
Pray, Sir, said I, your Heat abate,
And tell me what they would be at?
What 'tis you think would satisfy 'em,
That in my Thoughts I mayn't belie 'em?
A Man of Sense, with half an Eye,
(Says he) may easily descry,
Thro' all their consciencious Cant,
What in Reality they want;
Which is, believe me, in a Word,
All that the Kingdom can afford:
Therefore they are asham'd to own
Those Terms their Pride insists upon;
Tho', like true Sots, they'll seem at first
With a small Draught to quench their Thirst;
But were they't Barrel-head, you'd find
The Dev'l a Drop they'd leave behind.
And tell me what they would be at?
What 'tis you think would satisfy 'em,
That in my Thoughts I mayn't belie 'em?
A Man of Sense, with half an Eye,
(Says he) may easily descry,
Thro' all their consciencious Cant,
What in Reality they want;
15
All that the Kingdom can afford:
Therefore they are asham'd to own
Those Terms their Pride insists upon;
Tho', like true Sots, they'll seem at first
With a small Draught to quench their Thirst;
But were they't Barrel-head, you'd find
The Dev'l a Drop they'd leave behind.
At first for Trifles they'll be crying,
Which they will blame us for denying;
But if we think to stop their Raving,
By giving, they'll be always craving.
So Miss, when first she's kept by Gully,
Begs modestly, to try his Folly;
But if she finds he'll not deny her,
His whole Estate shan't satisfy her;
But into Debt she'll even run him,
And glory when she's thus undone him.
Which they will blame us for denying;
But if we think to stop their Raving,
By giving, they'll be always craving.
So Miss, when first she's kept by Gully,
Begs modestly, to try his Folly;
But if she finds he'll not deny her,
His whole Estate shan't satisfy her;
But into Debt she'll even run him,
And glory when she's thus undone him.
The least of Things, at which they offer,
Were they supream, they would not suffer:
They only want so high to soar,
That nothing can controul their Pow'r:
So that the Saints might rule at length,
Not by the Scriptures, but by Strength,
That Cruelty their Foes might awe,
And their own Wills become their Law.
The Church and Crown, in that sad Day,
Must to the Club and Cloak give way:
Our Lands and Goods be torn asunder,
And made their own by Right of Plunder.
Therefore I must, with Sorrow, say
Our Pilates steer a dang'rous Way.
To hold a Candle to the Devil,
Is not the Means to stop this Evil;
For Whigs in Pow'r, are of that Nature,
They'll swell like Spunges thrown in Water.
Therefore we strength'n 'em, whilst we please 'em:
The Way to less'n 'em, is to squeeze 'em.
Were they supream, they would not suffer:
16
That nothing can controul their Pow'r:
So that the Saints might rule at length,
Not by the Scriptures, but by Strength,
That Cruelty their Foes might awe,
And their own Wills become their Law.
The Church and Crown, in that sad Day,
Must to the Club and Cloak give way:
Our Lands and Goods be torn asunder,
And made their own by Right of Plunder.
Therefore I must, with Sorrow, say
Our Pilates steer a dang'rous Way.
To hold a Candle to the Devil,
Is not the Means to stop this Evil;
For Whigs in Pow'r, are of that Nature,
They'll swell like Spunges thrown in Water.
Therefore we strength'n 'em, whilst we please 'em:
The Way to less'n 'em, is to squeeze 'em.
But how, said I, can we foresee
They'd thus unreasonable be?
Methinks the Church-men first should try 'em,
Or else, who knows but they belie 'em?
They'd thus unreasonable be?
17
Or else, who knows but they belie 'em?
Crys he, your Folly makes me stare;
Such Talk would make a Parson swear.
Forbear to blunder out such Stuff;
I think we've try'd 'em oft enough.
Did not King Charles the First, to please 'em,
Do all that they could ask, to ease 'em,
Yet you find nothing would appease 'em?
The more he gave, the worse they us'd him;
When most kind he, they most abus'd him.
Thus all along, his mild Concessions
Made them but heighten their Oppressions.
He sacrific'd his Friends, we see,
To stop their Rage and Tyranny;
Did more than well became his Station,
To shew his peaceful Inclination:
Yet when they had obtain'd the most
That ever Rebels had to boast,
And had the Power, Lives, and Lands
Of all the Nation in their Hands;
The whole three Kingdoms were too small,
They'd not enough, when they had all;
But, like the Græcian, made wry Faces,
That they'd no more to pull to Pieces.
So finding there was nothing left,
To gratify their farther Theft,
Rather than be thus disappointed,
They stole the Blood of God's Anointed,
That their rebellious wicked Pride
And Av'rice, might be satisfy'd.
And would you have those Saints once more
Be try'd, who've done these Things before?
No, that would be like chusing those
For Friends, who were my Father's Foes.
A wise Man, sure, will ne'er agree
To trust to their Fidelity;
By whose repeated treach'rous Crime,
His Family, from Time to Time,
Have been molested and betray'd,
And more than twice unhappy made.
No, never trust the Villain more,
That has deceiv'd you once before.
Look round this sacred Place, St. Paul's;
View its large Iles, and stately Walls!
That lofty Dome, that seems to rise,
And join its Marble to the Skies!
See what vast Strength, and Beauty too,
Those bold Corinthian Pillars show!
With Wonder gaze on ev'ry Part,
Adorn'd with so much graceful Art,
Whose Order and Magnificence,
Does not alone delight the Sense,
But moves us to a Reverence!
Would you not tremble, should you see
All this despis'd for Popery?
And that a wild Fanatick Rabble,
Led by their spiteful Teachers Babble,
Should make this sacred Pile a Stable?
Sure all good Men must go distracted,
To see such Villany transacted.
Yet should the Tribe their Pow'r improve
Much farther under R---l Love,
Their Pride may soar so high, that we,
With weeping Eyes, once more may see
The sad Effects of Whiggish Rage,
Perform'd upon this sacred Stage.
Such Talk would make a Parson swear.
Forbear to blunder out such Stuff;
I think we've try'd 'em oft enough.
Did not King Charles the First, to please 'em,
Do all that they could ask, to ease 'em,
Yet you find nothing would appease 'em?
The more he gave, the worse they us'd him;
When most kind he, they most abus'd him.
Thus all along, his mild Concessions
Made them but heighten their Oppressions.
He sacrific'd his Friends, we see,
To stop their Rage and Tyranny;
Did more than well became his Station,
To shew his peaceful Inclination:
Yet when they had obtain'd the most
That ever Rebels had to boast,
18
Of all the Nation in their Hands;
The whole three Kingdoms were too small,
They'd not enough, when they had all;
But, like the Græcian, made wry Faces,
That they'd no more to pull to Pieces.
So finding there was nothing left,
To gratify their farther Theft,
Rather than be thus disappointed,
They stole the Blood of God's Anointed,
That their rebellious wicked Pride
And Av'rice, might be satisfy'd.
And would you have those Saints once more
Be try'd, who've done these Things before?
No, that would be like chusing those
For Friends, who were my Father's Foes.
A wise Man, sure, will ne'er agree
To trust to their Fidelity;
By whose repeated treach'rous Crime,
His Family, from Time to Time,
19
And more than twice unhappy made.
No, never trust the Villain more,
That has deceiv'd you once before.
Look round this sacred Place, St. Paul's;
View its large Iles, and stately Walls!
That lofty Dome, that seems to rise,
And join its Marble to the Skies!
See what vast Strength, and Beauty too,
Those bold Corinthian Pillars show!
With Wonder gaze on ev'ry Part,
Adorn'd with so much graceful Art,
Whose Order and Magnificence,
Does not alone delight the Sense,
But moves us to a Reverence!
Would you not tremble, should you see
All this despis'd for Popery?
And that a wild Fanatick Rabble,
Led by their spiteful Teachers Babble,
Should make this sacred Pile a Stable?
20
To see such Villany transacted.
Yet should the Tribe their Pow'r improve
Much farther under R---l Love,
Their Pride may soar so high, that we,
With weeping Eyes, once more may see
The sad Effects of Whiggish Rage,
Perform'd upon this sacred Stage.
Said I, I'd rather that the Murrain
Should turn my Grannum's Cows to Carion;
Or that the Dev'l once more would venture
Some other Herd of Swine to enter,
And not possess a factious Breed,
Or to such Freaks their Rabble lead;
For that would prove the Dev'l indeed.
Should turn my Grannum's Cows to Carion;
Or that the Dev'l once more would venture
Some other Herd of Swine to enter,
And not possess a factious Breed,
Or to such Freaks their Rabble lead;
For that would prove the Dev'l indeed.
But, Rev'rend Sir, before we part,
'Twould not a little please my Heart,
If you'd a true High-Church-man show,
Impartially, that I might know
The Diff'rence 'twixt the High and Low;
And make it to my Reason plain,
How that Distinction first began.
'Twould not a little please my Heart,
If you'd a true High-Church-man show,
Impartially, that I might know
The Diff'rence 'twixt the High and Low;
21
How that Distinction first began.
Says he, the proud dissenting Faction,
Malicious even to Distraction,
Viewing with Spite, such Love and Union
Establish'd in the Church-Communion;
That put them past the Hopes of rising,
To their old Pitch of Tyrannizing,
Unless they could by wicked Arts,
Divide the Body into Parts,
That some weak Sons might be ensnar'd
To have compassionate Regard
For all Fanaticks, that pretended
Church-Worship, (wanting to be mended)
Their tender Consciences offended.
T'accomplish this ill-boding Evil,
Hatch'd by th'Assistance of the Devil,
They cry'd aloud for Moderation,
To work their Ends by Insinuation.
This sweet'ning Term soon took Effect,
And rais'd i'th' Church a middle Sect,
That trim 'twixt both, and will be safe,
Let who as will command the Staff:
Averse to neither any longer,
Than just to see which Side's the stronger.
So Cowards to no Cause are hearty,
But join the most prevailing Party.
This makes the Whigs do all they're able
To shew themselves most formidable,
Because they've Craft enough to know
Those mod'rate Church-men, stil'd the Low,
Are not so fix'd in one Opinion,
But they can slide into an Union
With any Side that gets Dominion;
Judging their Principles the best,
Who with the greatest Pow'r are blest;
And so, instead of Fear and Trembling,
Work their Salvation by Dissembling.
These Measures did the Faction take,
To this absurd Distinction make:
And now, to widen the Division,
They feed the Mod'rate with Sedition,
And to set Brother against Brother,
Reproach one Side, and sooth the other;
Flatter the Low-Church to the Skies,
Blaspheme the High with odious Lies:
Thus win the Fools, and wound the Wise.
Malicious even to Distraction,
Viewing with Spite, such Love and Union
Establish'd in the Church-Communion;
That put them past the Hopes of rising,
To their old Pitch of Tyrannizing,
Unless they could by wicked Arts,
Divide the Body into Parts,
That some weak Sons might be ensnar'd
To have compassionate Regard
For all Fanaticks, that pretended
Church-Worship, (wanting to be mended)
Their tender Consciences offended.
T'accomplish this ill-boding Evil,
Hatch'd by th'Assistance of the Devil,
They cry'd aloud for Moderation,
To work their Ends by Insinuation.
22
And rais'd i'th' Church a middle Sect,
That trim 'twixt both, and will be safe,
Let who as will command the Staff:
Averse to neither any longer,
Than just to see which Side's the stronger.
So Cowards to no Cause are hearty,
But join the most prevailing Party.
This makes the Whigs do all they're able
To shew themselves most formidable,
Because they've Craft enough to know
Those mod'rate Church-men, stil'd the Low,
Are not so fix'd in one Opinion,
But they can slide into an Union
With any Side that gets Dominion;
Judging their Principles the best,
Who with the greatest Pow'r are blest;
And so, instead of Fear and Trembling,
Work their Salvation by Dissembling.
23
To this absurd Distinction make:
And now, to widen the Division,
They feed the Mod'rate with Sedition,
And to set Brother against Brother,
Reproach one Side, and sooth the other;
Flatter the Low-Church to the Skies,
Blaspheme the High with odious Lies:
Thus win the Fools, and wound the Wise.
He that stands firm to save the Church,
And scorns to leave her in the Lurch,
Must be a Jacobite, at least
A monst'rous, strange, Ephesian Beast;
A Popish Perkenite, a Traytor;
A Foe to th'Crown, a French Abettor;
Nay, worse by half than I can speak him,
Were he as bad as they would make him.
And scorns to leave her in the Lurch,
Must be a Jacobite, at least
A monst'rous, strange, Ephesian Beast;
A Popish Perkenite, a Traytor;
A Foe to th'Crown, a French Abettor;
Nay, worse by half than I can speak him,
Were he as bad as they would make him.
But the Low-Church-man, whose Compassion
Is stretch'd so far by Moderation,
That he would rather Church and Crown
Should be depress'd, and trampl'd down,
Than his kind tender Heart should see
The Nation's Senate disagree
T'Occasional Conformity.
Such a Low Christian is befriended,
And for Mod'ration much commended:
His Whiggish Neighbours cry, Alas!
For all he goes to High-Church Mass,
Were you to hear him talk, you'd find
The Man has got a Christian Mind.
This in the Neighbourhood's spoke aloud,
The Fool of their Applause is proud:
Thus hears by some, what others say,
So grows more mod'rate ev'ry Day.
The Leacher, who the Fair pursues,
Does the same subtle Measures use;
Much Praise behind her Back he scatters,
With whom he would accomplish Matters.
This makes her proud, and kind to th'Sinner,
The first that found such Graces in her;
When his gross Flatt'ries seek her Ruin,
And only tend to her Undoing.
Is stretch'd so far by Moderation,
24
Should be depress'd, and trampl'd down,
Than his kind tender Heart should see
The Nation's Senate disagree
T'Occasional Conformity.
Such a Low Christian is befriended,
And for Mod'ration much commended:
His Whiggish Neighbours cry, Alas!
For all he goes to High-Church Mass,
Were you to hear him talk, you'd find
The Man has got a Christian Mind.
This in the Neighbourhood's spoke aloud,
The Fool of their Applause is proud:
Thus hears by some, what others say,
So grows more mod'rate ev'ry Day.
The Leacher, who the Fair pursues,
Does the same subtle Measures use;
Much Praise behind her Back he scatters,
With whom he would accomplish Matters.
25
The first that found such Graces in her;
When his gross Flatt'ries seek her Ruin,
And only tend to her Undoing.
But since thou do'st desire to know
The Diff'rence 'twixt the High and Low,
I'll tell thee with impartial Care,
What distinct Characters they bear;
That whilst you can in Mem'ry keep
Their Marks, you'll know the Wolves from Sheep;
The High-Church first shall take their Places,
Because they wear most honest Faces.
The Diff'rence 'twixt the High and Low,
I'll tell thee with impartial Care,
What distinct Characters they bear;
That whilst you can in Mem'ry keep
Their Marks, you'll know the Wolves from Sheep;
The High-Church first shall take their Places,
Because they wear most honest Faces.
The Church above the World they honour,
And fix their Happiness upon her;
The Artick and Ant'artick Poles
Are not more steddy than their Souls:
Int'rest nor Fear will make 'em waver,
Or from the Truth their Conscience sever.
No base Rewards, tho' ne'er so great,
Or Threats of a corrupted State,
Will make their Lips their Faith deny,
Or their Tongues give their Hearts the Lie.
They love Mod'ration with their Souls,
But not the mod'rate Cant of Fools.
They live in Love and Charity
With all, at lest those that do agree
T'Occasional Conformity.
Their Hearts are Loyal to the Throne;
They love the Queen that sits thereon,
And dare do all that Men can do,
To shew they're to her Int'rest true.
They honour Bishops as they shou'd,
For being pious, learn'd, and good;
And are not for a canting Crew
To model God's old Church anew.
In short, they're more devout and just,
More faithful, and more fit for Trust,
Than those loose Saints, whom now we see
Possess'd of all, but Honesty.
And fix their Happiness upon her;
The Artick and Ant'artick Poles
Are not more steddy than their Souls:
Int'rest nor Fear will make 'em waver,
Or from the Truth their Conscience sever.
No base Rewards, tho' ne'er so great,
Or Threats of a corrupted State,
26
Or their Tongues give their Hearts the Lie.
They love Mod'ration with their Souls,
But not the mod'rate Cant of Fools.
They live in Love and Charity
With all, at lest those that do agree
T'Occasional Conformity.
Their Hearts are Loyal to the Throne;
They love the Queen that sits thereon,
And dare do all that Men can do,
To shew they're to her Int'rest true.
They honour Bishops as they shou'd,
For being pious, learn'd, and good;
And are not for a canting Crew
To model God's old Church anew.
In short, they're more devout and just,
More faithful, and more fit for Trust,
Than those loose Saints, whom now we see
Possess'd of all, but Honesty.
27
The Low-Church are Prevaricators,
Proud of the Name of Moderators:
By subtle Arts made factious Tools.
In short, they're the Dissenters Fools,
Design'd in some more wicked Times
To bear the Slander of their Crimes,
That when they find proper a Season
T'attempt some Massacre or Treason,
The cunning Saints may shift the Shame,
And cast upon the Church the Blame;
Because the Low-Church Moderators
Were all along their kind Abettors.
Like Moths, that round a Candle fly,
They either can't, or won't espy
The Danger that's before their Eye;
But court those Flames they should avoid,
And sooth their Ruin, 'till destroy'd.
Tell 'em, the Church declines in Glory,
They cry, they hope 'tis all a Story.
Thus make you think they would not have her
Hurt, yet will nothing do to save her.
They must comply with Toleration,
Their Hearts quite melt with Moderation;
Yet have not Patience to be taught
The sad Calamities they've brought
Upon the Land, or to be shewn
What Mischief to the Church they've done.
'Tis true, they use Church-Worship duly,
Yet think a Meeting full as Holy:
Lawn Sleeves and Surplice they approve,
The Common-Pray'r they like and love;
Yet will not see the Hurt they do,
By siding with a factious Crew.
In short, these Men of Moderation;
These Low-Church Whigs, so much in Fashion,
Are true to nothing, in my Sense,
Except to dull Indifference;
But like a Lump of Wax or Clay,
Can take Impression any Way.
Lord clear their muddy Intellects,
Recal them from pernicious Sects;
Make them more Holy, and more Steady,
More Wise, more Willing, and more Ready,
To guard the establish'd Church o'th' Nation,
In whom they seek their own Salvation;
That when the Tempest shall arise,
She may not fall a Sacrifice
To Wolves crept into Sheeps Disguise.
Proud of the Name of Moderators:
By subtle Arts made factious Tools.
In short, they're the Dissenters Fools,
Design'd in some more wicked Times
To bear the Slander of their Crimes,
That when they find proper a Season
T'attempt some Massacre or Treason,
The cunning Saints may shift the Shame,
And cast upon the Church the Blame;
Because the Low-Church Moderators
Were all along their kind Abettors.
Like Moths, that round a Candle fly,
They either can't, or won't espy
The Danger that's before their Eye;
But court those Flames they should avoid,
And sooth their Ruin, 'till destroy'd.
Tell 'em, the Church declines in Glory,
They cry, they hope 'tis all a Story.
Thus make you think they would not have her
Hurt, yet will nothing do to save her.
They must comply with Toleration,
Their Hearts quite melt with Moderation;
Yet have not Patience to be taught
The sad Calamities they've brought
Upon the Land, or to be shewn
What Mischief to the Church they've done.
'Tis true, they use Church-Worship duly,
Yet think a Meeting full as Holy:
28
The Common-Pray'r they like and love;
Yet will not see the Hurt they do,
By siding with a factious Crew.
In short, these Men of Moderation;
These Low-Church Whigs, so much in Fashion,
Are true to nothing, in my Sense,
Except to dull Indifference;
But like a Lump of Wax or Clay,
Can take Impression any Way.
Lord clear their muddy Intellects,
Recal them from pernicious Sects;
Make them more Holy, and more Steady,
More Wise, more Willing, and more Ready,
To guard the establish'd Church o'th' Nation,
In whom they seek their own Salvation;
That when the Tempest shall arise,
She may not fall a Sacrifice
To Wolves crept into Sheeps Disguise.
FINIS.
| Hudibras Redivivus | |