University of Virginia Library

O that I could but vote my selfe a Poet!
Or had the Legislative knacke to do it!
Or, like the Doctors Militant, could get
Dub'd at adventures Verser Banneret!
Or had I Cacus tricke to make my Rimes
Their owne Antipodes, and track the times:
Faces about, saies the Remonstrant Spirit;
Allegeance is Malignant, Treason Merit:
Huntington-colt, that pos'd the Sage Recorder,
Might be a Sturgeon now, and passe by Order:
Had I but Elsing's guift (that splay-mouth'd Brother)
That declares one way, and yet meanes another:
Could I but write a-squint; then (Sir) long since
You had been sung, A Great and Glorious Prince.
I had observ'd the Language of the dayes;
Blasphem'd you; and then Periwigg'd the Phrase
With Humble Service, and such other Fustian,
Bels which ring backward in this great Combustion.
I had revil'd you; and without offence,
The Literall, and Equitable Sence
Would make it good: when all failes, that will do't:
Sure that distinction cleft the Devill's Foot.
This were my Dialect, would your Highnesse please
To read mee but with Hebrew Spectacles;
Interpret Counter, what is Crosse rehears'd:
Libells are commendations, when revers'd.
Just as an Optique Glasse contracts the sight
At one end, but when turn'd doth multip'y't.
But you're enchanted, Sir; you're doubly free
From the great Guns, and squibbing Poetrie:
Whom neither Bilbo, nor Invention pierces,
Proofe even 'gainst th'Artillerie of Verses.
Stranged that the Muses cannot wound your Maile;
If not their Art, yet let their Sex prevaile.
At that knowne Leaguer, where the Bonny Besses
Supplyed the Bow-strings with their twisted tresses,
Your spells could ne're have fenc'd you: every arrow
Had launc'd your noble breast: and drunk the marrow:
For beauty, like white powder makes no noise;
And yet the silent Hypocrite destroyes.
Then use the Nuns of Helicon with pity,
Lest Wharton tell his Gossops of the City,
That you kill women too; nay maids; and such
Their Generall wants Militia to touch.
Impotent Essex! is it not a shame
Our Commonwealth, like to a Turkish Dame,
Should have an Eunuch-Guardian? may she bee
Ravish'd by Charles, rather then sav'd by thee.
But why, my Muse, like a Green-sicknesse-Girle,
Feed'st thou on coales and dirt? a Gelding Earle
Gives no more relish to thy Female Palat,
Then to that Asse did once the Thistle-Sallat.
Then quit the barren Theme; and all at once
Thou and thy sisters like bright Amazons,
Give RUPERT an alarum, RUPERT! one
Whose name is wit's Superfœtation.
Makes fancy, like eternitie's round wombe,
Unite all Valour; present, past, to come.
He, who the old Philosophie controules,
That voted downe plurality of soules.
He breaths a grand Committee; all that were
The wonders of their Age, constellate here.
And as the elder sisters, growth and sence
(Soules Paramount themselves) in man commence
But faculties of reasons Queen; no more
Are they to him, who were compleat before.
Ingredients of his vertue thread the Beads
Of Cæsar's Acts, great Pompey's and the Sweds:
And 'tis a bracelet fit for Rupert's hand,
By which that vast Triumvirate is spann'd.
Here, here is Palmestry; here you may read
How long the world shall live, and when't shal bleed.
Whatever man winds up, that RUPERT hath:
For nature rais'd him of the Publike Faith,
Pandora's Brother, to make up whose store,
The Gods were faine to run upon the score.
Such was the Painters Brieve for Venus face;
Item an eye from Jane, a lip from Grace.
Let Isaac and his Cit'z. flea off the Place
That tips their Antlets for the Calfe of Stace;
Let the zeale-twanging Nose, that wants a ridge,
Snuffling devoutly, drop his silver bridge:
Yes, and the Gossips spoon augment the summe,
Although poore Caleb lose his Christendome:
Rupert out-weighs that in his Sterling-selfe,
Which their selfe-wants payes in commuting pelfe.
Pardon, great Sir; for that ignoble crew
Gaines, when made bankrupt, in the scales with you.
As he, who in his character of light
Stil'd it Gods shadow, made it farre more bright
By an Eclipse so glorious; (light is dim,
And a black nothing, when compar'd to him)
So 'tis illustrious to be Ruperts Foile,
And a just Trophee to be made his spoile.
I'le pin my faith on the Diurnalls sleeve
Hereafter, and the Guild-Hall Creed beleeve;
The conquests, which the Common-Councell hears
With their wide-list'ning mouths from the great Peers
That ran away in triumph: such a Foe
Can make them victors in their overthrow.
Where providence and valour meet in one,
Courage so poiz'd with circumspection,
That he revives the quarrell once againe
Of the Soules throne, whether in heart or braine;
And leaves it a drawn match: whose fervour can
Hatch him, whom Nature poach'd but Half a Man.
His Trumpet, like the Angell's at the last,
Makes the soul rise by a miraculous blast.
'Twas the Mount Athos carv'd in shape of man
(As't was defin'd by th'Macedonian)
Whose right hand should a populous Land containe,
The left should be a Channell to the maine:
His spirit might informe th'Amphibious figure;
Yet straight-lac'd sweats for a Dominion bigger:
The terrour of whose name can out of seven,
(Like Falstaffe's Buckram-men) make fly eleven.
Thus some grow rich by breaking; Vipers thus
By being slaine, are made more numerous.
No wonder they'l confesse, no losse of men;
For Rupert knocks'em, till they gigg agen.
They feare the Giblets of his traine; they fear
Even his Dog, that four-legg'd Cavalier::
He that devoures the scraps, which Lundsford makes,
Whose picture feeds upon a child in stakes:
VVho name but Charles, hee comes aloft for him,
But holds up his Malignant leg at Pym.
'Gainst whom they've severall Articles in souse;
First, that he barks against the sense o'th House.
Resolv'd Delinquent, to the Tower straight;
Either to th'Lions, or the Bishops Grate.
Next, for his ceremonious wag o'th taile:
But there the Sisterhood will be his Baile,
At least the Countesse will, Lust's Amsterdam,
That lets in all religious of the game.
Thirdly, he smells Intelligence, that's better,
And cheaper too, then Pym's from his owne Letter:
Who's doubly pai'd (fortune or we the blinder?)
For making plots, and then for Fox the Finder.
Lastly, he is a Devill without doubt;
For when he would lie downe, he wheels about;
Makes circles, and is couchant in a ring;
And therefore score up one for conjuring.
What canst thou say, thou wretch? O Quarter, quarter!
I'me but an Instrument, a meer S. Arthur.
If I must hang, ô let not our fates varie,
Whose office 'tis alike to fetch, and carry.
No hopes of a reprieve, the mutinous stir
That strung the Jesuite, will dispatch a cur.
Were La Devill as the Rebell feares,
I see the House would try me by my Peeres.
There Jowler, there! ah Jowler! st! 'tis nought
Whate're the Accusers cry, they're at a fault;
And Glyn, and Maynard have no more to say,
Then when the glorious Strafford stood at Bay.

Thus Labells but annex'd to him we see,
Enjoy a copyhold of Victorie.
S. Peters shadow heal'd; Ruperts is such,
Twould find S. Peters worke, yet wound as much.
He gags their guns, defeats their dire intent,
The Cannons doe but lisp and complement.
Sure Iove descended in a leaden shower
To get this Perseus: hence the fatall power
Of shot is strangled: bullets thus allied,
Feare to commit an act of Particide.
Go on brave Prince, and make the world confesse,
Thou art the greater world, and that the lesse.
Scatter th'accumulative King, untruss
That five-fold fiend, the States SMECTYMNUUS;
Who place Religion in their Velam ears;
As in their Phylacters the Jewes did theirs.
England's a Paradise, (and a modest Word)
Since guarded by a Cherub's flaming Sword.
Your name can scare an Athiest to his prayers;
And cure the Chin-cough better then the bears.
Old Sybill charmes the Tooth-ach with you: Nurse
Makes you still children; nay and the pond'rous curse
The Clownes salute with, is deriv'd from you;
(Now RUPERT take thee, Rogue; how dost thou do?)
In fine, the name of Rupert thunders so,
Kimbolton's but a rumbling Wheel-barrow.