Iter boreale With large additions of several other poems: being an exact collection of all hitherto extant. Never before published together. The author R. Wild |
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THE GRATEFUL NON-CONFORMIST:
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66
THE GRATEFUL NON-CONFORMIST:
OR, Return of Thanks to Sir J. B. Knight who sent the Author Ten CROWNS 1665.
Ten Crowns at once! and to one man! and he
As despicable as bad Poets be!
Who scarce has Wit (if you require the same)
To make an Anagram upon your Name!
Or to out-rime a Barber, or prepare
An Epitaph to serve a Quinbrough Mayer!
A limping Levite! who scarce in his prime
Could woe an Abigal, or say Grace in rhime!
As despicable as bad Poets be!
Who scarce has Wit (if you require the same)
To make an Anagram upon your Name!
Or to out-rime a Barber, or prepare
An Epitaph to serve a Quinbrough Mayer!
A limping Levite! who scarce in his prime
Could woe an Abigal, or say Grace in rhime!
Ten Crowns to such a Thing! Friend, 'tis a dose,
Able to raise dead Ben, or Davenant's Nose;
Able to make a Courtier prove a Friend,
And more then all of them in Victuals spend.
This free, free-Parliament, whose gift doth sound
Full five and twenty hundred thousand pound:
You have out-done them, for yours was your own,
And some of it shall last when theirs is gon.
Able to raise dead Ben, or Davenant's Nose;
Able to make a Courtier prove a Friend,
And more then all of them in Victuals spend.
This free, free-Parliament, whose gift doth sound
Full five and twenty hundred thousand pound:
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And some of it shall last when theirs is gon.
Ten Crowns at once! and now at such a time,
When Love to such as I am, is a Crime
Greater then his Recorded in Jane Shore,
Who gave but one poor loaf to the starv'd Whore.
What, now to help a Non-Conformist! Now
When Ministers are broke that will not bow!
When 'tis to be unblest to be ungirt!
To wear no Surplice, doth deserve no shirt:
No Broth, no Meat; no Service, no Protection;
No Cross, no Coin; no Collect, no Collection!
When Love to such as I am, is a Crime
Greater then his Recorded in Jane Shore,
Who gave but one poor loaf to the starv'd Whore.
What, now to help a Non-Conformist! Now
When Ministers are broke that will not bow!
When 'tis to be unblest to be ungirt!
To wear no Surplice, doth deserve no shirt:
No Broth, no Meat; no Service, no Protection;
No Cross, no Coin; no Collect, no Collection!
You are a daring Knight, thus to be kind;
If trusty Roger get it in the wind
Hee'l smell a Plot, a Presbyterian Plot,
Especially for what you gave the Scot!
And if the Spiritual Court take fire from Crack,
They'l clap a Pariter upon your back:
Shall make you shrug, as if you wore the Collar
Of a Cashier'd Red-coat, or poor Scholar.
What will you plead, Sir, if they put you to't?
Was it the Doctor, or the Knight did do't?
Did you as Doctor, flux some Usurer?
And with your quick, did his dull Silver stir?
Or did your Zeal, you a Knight-Templer make,
To give the Church the booties you should take?
Or was it your desire to beg Applause?
Or shew affection to the good old Cause?
Was't to feed Faction, or uphold the stickle
Betwixt the old Church and new Conventicle?
No, none of these, but I have hit the thing,
It was because you knew I lov'd the King.
If trusty Roger get it in the wind
Hee'l smell a Plot, a Presbyterian Plot,
Especially for what you gave the Scot!
And if the Spiritual Court take fire from Crack,
They'l clap a Pariter upon your back:
Shall make you shrug, as if you wore the Collar
Of a Cashier'd Red-coat, or poor Scholar.
What will you plead, Sir, if they put you to't?
Was it the Doctor, or the Knight did do't?
Did you as Doctor, flux some Usurer?
And with your quick, did his dull Silver stir?
Or did your Zeal, you a Knight-Templer make,
To give the Church the booties you should take?
Or was it your desire to beg Applause?
Or shew affection to the good old Cause?
Was't to feed Faction, or uphold the stickle
Betwixt the old Church and new Conventicle?
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It was because you knew I lov'd the King.
Ten Crowns at once! Sir you'l suspected be
For no good Protestant, you are so free.
So much at once! sure you ne'r gave before,
Or else, I doubt, mean to do so no more.
This is enough to make a man protest
Religio Medici to be the best.
For no good Protestant, you are so free.
So much at once! sure you ne'r gave before,
Or else, I doubt, mean to do so no more.
This is enough to make a man protest
Religio Medici to be the best.
The Christians, for whose sakes we are undone,
Would have cry'd out, oh! 'tis too much for one
Either to give or take! what needs this wast?
Oh, how they love to have us keep a Fast!
Five private Meetings, (where at each, four men
In black coats, and white caps, (you'l call them then
A teem of Ministers) have tug'd all day,
Deserving Provender, but scarce got hey;
Where I my self have drawn my part some hours,
Have not afforded such return as yours.
I'de wish them watch, and keep me sober still;
Not want of guilt in them, nor want of will
In me, but want of Wine does make me lame,
Or else I'de sacrifice them to the flame
Of a high blazing Satyr. Here's a man
Who ne'r pretended at your rates, yet can
More freely feed us, with Wine and good Dishes,
Then they (yet that's their alms) with sighs and wishes
Would have cry'd out, oh! 'tis too much for one
Either to give or take! what needs this wast?
Oh, how they love to have us keep a Fast!
Five private Meetings, (where at each, four men
In black coats, and white caps, (you'l call them then
A teem of Ministers) have tug'd all day,
Deserving Provender, but scarce got hey;
Where I my self have drawn my part some hours,
Have not afforded such return as yours.
I'de wish them watch, and keep me sober still;
Not want of guilt in them, nor want of will
In me, but want of Wine does make me lame,
Or else I'de sacrifice them to the flame
Of a high blazing Satyr. Here's a man
Who ne'r pretended at your rates, yet can
More freely feed us, with Wine and good Dishes,
Then they (yet that's their alms) with sighs and wishes
Oh, for a Rapture! how shall I describe
The love of thousands to their Reading Tribe!
Who so maintaind them, when they lost their places
They did not loose one pimple from their faces;
But after all, full fraught with flesh and flaggon,
Came forth like Monks, or Priests of Bel & Dragon
One would have judg'd by their high looks & smels
They had been kept in Cellars, not in Cells:
Where they grew big and batten'd; without doubt
Some that went Firkins in, came Hogs heads out.
But ours in two years time are skin and bones,
And look like Gran-dames, or old Apple Johns:
One Lazarus amongst us was too much,
But ere't be long we all shall look like such;
And when that comes to pass, the world shall see,
Who are the Ghostly Fathers, they or we;
And then our bellies (without better fare)
Will be as empty as their Noddles are:
Though we are silent, our guts will not be so,
But make a Conventicle as they go:
Poor Colon peace, and cease thy croking din,
Thou art condemn'd to be a Chitterlin.
The love of thousands to their Reading Tribe!
Who so maintaind them, when they lost their places
They did not loose one pimple from their faces;
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Came forth like Monks, or Priests of Bel & Dragon
One would have judg'd by their high looks & smels
They had been kept in Cellars, not in Cells:
Where they grew big and batten'd; without doubt
Some that went Firkins in, came Hogs heads out.
But ours in two years time are skin and bones,
And look like Gran-dames, or old Apple Johns:
One Lazarus amongst us was too much,
But ere't be long we all shall look like such;
And when that comes to pass, the world shall see,
Who are the Ghostly Fathers, they or we;
And then our bellies (without better fare)
Will be as empty as their Noddles are:
Though we are silent, our guts will not be so,
But make a Conventicle as they go:
Poor Colon peace, and cease thy croking din,
Thou art condemn'd to be a Chitterlin.
Niggardly Puritans! blush at the odds
Betwixt the Bonners and the meagre Dodds;
You give your Drink in Thimbles, they in Bowls,
Your Church is poor St. Faiths and theirs is Pauls;
And whilst you Priests and Altars do despise,
Your selves prove Priests, and we your Sacrifice.
Betwixt the Bonners and the meagre Dodds;
You give your Drink in Thimbles, they in Bowls,
Your Church is poor St. Faiths and theirs is Pauls;
And whilst you Priests and Altars do despise,
Your selves prove Priests, and we your Sacrifice.
But why do I permit my Muse to whine?
I wish my Brethren all such cheeks as mine,
And those that wish us well, such hearts as thine.
I wish my Brethren all such cheeks as mine,
And those that wish us well, such hearts as thine.
My Noble Baber, I have chosen you
For my Physitian, and my Champion too;
Give me but sometimes such a dose, and I
Will ne'r wish other Cordial till I die,
And then Proclaim you a most Valiant Knight,
(Shew but such Mettle) though you never Fight.
For my Physitian, and my Champion too;
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Will ne'r wish other Cordial till I die,
And then Proclaim you a most Valiant Knight,
(Shew but such Mettle) though you never Fight.
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