The Times' Whistle Or A Newe Daunce of Seuen Satires, and other Poems: Compiled by R. C., Gent. [i.e. Richard Corbett]. Now First Edited from Ms. Y. 8. 3. in the Library of Canterbury Cathedral: With introduction, notes, and glossary, By J. M. Cowper |
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Satira 1. [AGAINST THE ATHEISTS, SABBATH-BREAKERS, ETC.] |
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 | The Times' Whistle |  |
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Satira 1. [AGAINST THE ATHEISTS, SABBATH-BREAKERS, ETC.]
Argumentum.
Regnat in humanis diuina potentia rebus,Non ex naturæ vi generatur homo.
Quid deus, et cui fini animal ratione creatum
Est pietas, est in relligione scelus.
Atheos! forbear to speake such blasphemie!
“There is noe God,” O, damnd impiety!
Yes, wicked villaine, thou shalt one day finde,
With horror of a selfe-tormenting minde,
A God, though long it be ere he begin,
That can and will severely chastice sinne.
Thou execrable monster, hatchd in hell,
Brought by a crew of devills heer to dwell
A plague one earth, why hast thou thus bewitcht
With thy contagion mindes that are enricht
With gifts of nature aboue common ranke?
Who with the poyson that from thee they dranke
Envenom'd, wound themselues, and others harme
With strange opinions, which in heapes doe swarme
From their ill-iudging thoughts; for heresie,
Scisme, Puritanisme, Brownisme, pa[pi]strie,
And such like hydra-headed errors, all
Proceed from thee, thou art the principall;
Thou which wilt never graunt a Diety,
Vnlesse it be in poynt of pollicie,
Which by religion dost not set a strawe,
Devisde, thou thinkst, but to keep fooles in awe;
Which makest a moncking-stock of hell and devill,
Not in contempt of them, that they are evill,
But 'cause thou vainly dost thyselfe perswade,
Such toyes as these, such bugbears, were first made
On purpose to fright children. Instantlie
The soule thou thinkst doth with the bodie dye.
Nature cannot immortalize a man,
'Tis true indeed, but heavenly powers can.
“There is noe God,” O, damnd impiety!
Yes, wicked villaine, thou shalt one day finde,
With horror of a selfe-tormenting minde,
A God, though long it be ere he begin,
That can and will severely chastice sinne.
Thou execrable monster, hatchd in hell,
Brought by a crew of devills heer to dwell
A plague one earth, why hast thou thus bewitcht
With thy contagion mindes that are enricht
With gifts of nature aboue common ranke?
Who with the poyson that from thee they dranke
Envenom'd, wound themselues, and others harme
With strange opinions, which in heapes doe swarme
From their ill-iudging thoughts; for heresie,
Scisme, Puritanisme, Brownisme, pa[pi]strie,
And such like hydra-headed errors, all
Proceed from thee, thou art the principall;
5
Vnlesse it be in poynt of pollicie,
Which by religion dost not set a strawe,
Devisde, thou thinkst, but to keep fooles in awe;
Which makest a moncking-stock of hell and devill,
Not in contempt of them, that they are evill,
But 'cause thou vainly dost thyselfe perswade,
Such toyes as these, such bugbears, were first made
On purpose to fright children. Instantlie
The soule thou thinkst doth with the bodie dye.
Nature cannot immortalize a man,
'Tis true indeed, but heavenly powers can.
“That ther are no such things” (saist thou) “this age,
This vicious age, confirmes; what need I wage
Other contentious arguments, when I
By this alone can proue noe Dietie?
Were there a God, sinne would not flourish thus,
Neither would vertue (as it is) by vs
Be trodden vnder foote. For ought I see
The lewdest persons thriue best, and are free
From punnishment for sinne; besides all this,
They that doe worship God doe often misse
The blessings of the world & suffer griefe;
Yet ther is none can giue to them relief.
They often fall in danger & mischance,
Yet never finde a full deliverance.
Were there a God, sure then he would defend
His children still, which wholly doe depend
Vppon his mercy, & vpon them spread
His blessings in abundance: on the head
Of the vngodly, there alon should fall
His curses, crosses, punnishments; but all
The righteous should escape.” Peace, impious elfe!
All thou hast saide is clean against thy selfe.
High Ioue permits the sunne to cast his beames,
And the moyst cloudes to dropdowne plenteous streames,
Alike vpon the just & reprobate,
Yet are not both subjected by one fate?
The sunnes kinde heat, heavens fruitfull distillation,
Shall be a cause of greater condemnation
To the vngodlie; but vnto the just,
(As gracious blessings which he doth entrust
Vnto his children) they well vsd' shall be
A cause of honour in eternity.
Well may the wicked flourish in this world,
But there will come a time they shall be hurld
From top of all their pleasures eminence,
And hell shalbe their place of residence.
Then shall the righteous shine like glorious starres
Within the sphear of heaven; oppressions, warres,
Afflictions, persecutions, iniuries,
Hatred, contempt, & all calamities
Shall be a crowne of honour to invest
Their then trivmphant browes; eternall rest,
Perpetuall joy, subject to no mischance,
Shalbe their portion & inheritance.
This vicious age, confirmes; what need I wage
Other contentious arguments, when I
By this alone can proue noe Dietie?
Were there a God, sinne would not flourish thus,
Neither would vertue (as it is) by vs
Be trodden vnder foote. For ought I see
The lewdest persons thriue best, and are free
From punnishment for sinne; besides all this,
They that doe worship God doe often misse
The blessings of the world & suffer griefe;
Yet ther is none can giue to them relief.
They often fall in danger & mischance,
Yet never finde a full deliverance.
Were there a God, sure then he would defend
His children still, which wholly doe depend
Vppon his mercy, & vpon them spread
His blessings in abundance: on the head
Of the vngodly, there alon should fall
His curses, crosses, punnishments; but all
The righteous should escape.” Peace, impious elfe!
All thou hast saide is clean against thy selfe.
High Ioue permits the sunne to cast his beames,
And the moyst cloudes to dropdowne plenteous streames,
6
Yet are not both subjected by one fate?
The sunnes kinde heat, heavens fruitfull distillation,
Shall be a cause of greater condemnation
To the vngodlie; but vnto the just,
(As gracious blessings which he doth entrust
Vnto his children) they well vsd' shall be
A cause of honour in eternity.
Well may the wicked flourish in this world,
But there will come a time they shall be hurld
From top of all their pleasures eminence,
And hell shalbe their place of residence.
Then shall the righteous shine like glorious starres
Within the sphear of heaven; oppressions, warres,
Afflictions, persecutions, iniuries,
Hatred, contempt, & all calamities
Shall be a crowne of honour to invest
Their then trivmphant browes; eternall rest,
Perpetuall joy, subject to no mischance,
Shalbe their portion & inheritance.
But against him that makes negation
Of principles in art, no disputation
Is to be held: deny God, & his Word
Can smale impression make; it is the sword
Of iustice which must bring thee to confesse
The powerfull Godhead; yet I'le somewhat presse
Thy irreligeous minde. Of thy creation
Take but a true consideration;
For 'tis not Nature, as thou dost surmise,
That begets man in soule & qualities.
For thou must know, two parts must first conjoyne
Before we can a perfect man define;
The soule, an essence intellectuall,
The body, a substance corporeall;
The first we immediatly receiue
From Iove; the other God to man doth leaue
(As a subordinat instrument)
To generat; 'tis onlie incident
To man, to cause the bodies procreation;
The soule's infusde by heavenly operation.
Looke on this with an intellectuall eye,
And it will teach thee ther 's a Diety.
View but the earth, which doth each year renew
Her drouping beauty, & clean change her hiew
Vpon the Springs approch; doth it not shew
A supream Power, that governs things belowe?
Looke on the heavens (which thou shalt ne're ascend,
Vnlesse it be with horrour to attend
Thie sentence of damnation;) looke, I say,
Doth not their goodly opifice display
A power 'bove Nature? Dull conceited foole,
Ne'er trainèd vp but in dame Natures schoole,
Looke in thy selfe, when thou commitst a sinne,
Doth not thy conscience prick thy soule within?
If that ther be no God, what dost thou fear?
Why doth remorse of conscience, or dispaire,
Afflict thee thus? This is enough to prove
(Were there no more) an Elohim, a Iove.
How canst thou then thus impiously deny
The sacred essence of the Diety?
Recant this errour, least, to all mens wonder,
Revengefull Iove doe strike thee dead with thunder.
Of principles in art, no disputation
Is to be held: deny God, & his Word
Can smale impression make; it is the sword
Of iustice which must bring thee to confesse
The powerfull Godhead; yet I'le somewhat presse
Thy irreligeous minde. Of thy creation
Take but a true consideration;
For 'tis not Nature, as thou dost surmise,
That begets man in soule & qualities.
For thou must know, two parts must first conjoyne
Before we can a perfect man define;
The soule, an essence intellectuall,
The body, a substance corporeall;
The first we immediatly receiue
From Iove; the other God to man doth leaue
7
To generat; 'tis onlie incident
To man, to cause the bodies procreation;
The soule's infusde by heavenly operation.
Looke on this with an intellectuall eye,
And it will teach thee ther 's a Diety.
View but the earth, which doth each year renew
Her drouping beauty, & clean change her hiew
Vpon the Springs approch; doth it not shew
A supream Power, that governs things belowe?
Looke on the heavens (which thou shalt ne're ascend,
Vnlesse it be with horrour to attend
Thie sentence of damnation;) looke, I say,
Doth not their goodly opifice display
A power 'bove Nature? Dull conceited foole,
Ne'er trainèd vp but in dame Natures schoole,
Looke in thy selfe, when thou commitst a sinne,
Doth not thy conscience prick thy soule within?
If that ther be no God, what dost thou fear?
Why doth remorse of conscience, or dispaire,
Afflict thee thus? This is enough to prove
(Were there no more) an Elohim, a Iove.
How canst thou then thus impiously deny
The sacred essence of the Diety?
Recant this errour, least, to all mens wonder,
Revengefull Iove doe strike thee dead with thunder.
Being once granted (this our true position)
Ther is a God; let 's now make inquisition
What this God is; which must be by relation
Vnto his workes, or else by meer negation
Of what he is not, we may make collection
Of what he is. It is the times infection
[To b]e to curious in the mistery
Of searching his essentialitie,
Which simplie, as too glorious for the eye
Of mortall vnderstanding to descrie,
We cannot comprehend; let 's therfore know him
In that sort onlie that the Scriptures shew him.
God is an Essence intellectuall,
A perfect Substance incorporeall;
A Spirit whose being ne're begining knew,
Omnipotent, omniscient, ever true;
Or rather, in the abstract:—Majestie,
Truth, mercy, wisdome, power, iustice, glorie;
Which out of nothing this great world did frame,
And into nothing will rechange the same;
Which made that glorious eye of heaven, the sunne
To rule the day, and for darke night the moone;
Which joynes in friendly league each element,
And keeps the sea within his continent;
Which of the dust mans body did create,
Into the which a soule he did translate,
Like his owne image pure; vntill mans fall,
Left to his owne free-will, polluted all
That goodly microcosme; for the which deed,
Had not the issue of the promisde seed,
The valiant Lion of stout Iudahs tribe,
The gentle Lambe vngentlie crucified,
Redeemd his life, borne his iniquity,
And conquerd Satan & his tyrannie,
He should haue been severely punnishèd
And everlastingly haue perishèd.
But now by him, all that make oblation
Of a true faith, assure their soules salvation;
What the first Adam did by sinne destroy,
The Second hath restorde with duble ioye.
Ther is a God; let 's now make inquisition
What this God is; which must be by relation
Vnto his workes, or else by meer negation
Of what he is not, we may make collection
Of what he is. It is the times infection
[To b]e to curious in the mistery
Of searching his essentialitie,
Which simplie, as too glorious for the eye
8
We cannot comprehend; let 's therfore know him
In that sort onlie that the Scriptures shew him.
God is an Essence intellectuall,
A perfect Substance incorporeall;
A Spirit whose being ne're begining knew,
Omnipotent, omniscient, ever true;
Or rather, in the abstract:—Majestie,
Truth, mercy, wisdome, power, iustice, glorie;
Which out of nothing this great world did frame,
And into nothing will rechange the same;
Which made that glorious eye of heaven, the sunne
To rule the day, and for darke night the moone;
Which joynes in friendly league each element,
And keeps the sea within his continent;
Which of the dust mans body did create,
Into the which a soule he did translate,
Like his owne image pure; vntill mans fall,
Left to his owne free-will, polluted all
That goodly microcosme; for the which deed,
Had not the issue of the promisde seed,
The valiant Lion of stout Iudahs tribe,
The gentle Lambe vngentlie crucified,
Redeemd his life, borne his iniquity,
And conquerd Satan & his tyrannie,
He should haue been severely punnishèd
And everlastingly haue perishèd.
But now by him, all that make oblation
Of a true faith, assure their soules salvation;
What the first Adam did by sinne destroy,
The Second hath restorde with duble ioye.
But leaving this moste heavenly meditation,
Let 's shew for what effect was mans creation:
It was, it is, to serve this God alone,
With honour, loue, & true devotion.
The manner how were somewhat long to write,
The Scripture all his precepts doth recite.
Which, cause we cannot in all parts fulfill,
In liew of power he doth except our will.
But man, vngratefull man, this God withstandes,
And, like Briareus with his hundred handes,
Strives, as it were, to pull him from his throne
Which gave him being, & through whom alone
He his well-being has. O, impious deed,
Which to recount my very heart doth bleed!
That wee (like to those giants, which made warre
Against the heavens) with such presumption dare
Lift vp our selues against our Maker by
So many kinde of damnd impietie,
So many hellish sinnes, whose hideous cry
Percing the clowdes, mounting aboue the skie,
Affront Gods power, & doe deserve to finde
Another Deluge to destroy mankinde.
But God, this gracious God, with mercie strives
To bring vs to him & to saue our lives;
And therfore hath chalkd out a ready way,
(That we no more might goe so farre astray)
His Gospell; which path (if not trod amisse)
Will safelie bring vs to celestiall blisse.
This profferd grace some see not, some despise,
Although herein alone their safetie lies.
Let 's shew for what effect was mans creation:
It was, it is, to serve this God alone,
With honour, loue, & true devotion.
The manner how were somewhat long to write,
9
Which, cause we cannot in all parts fulfill,
In liew of power he doth except our will.
But man, vngratefull man, this God withstandes,
And, like Briareus with his hundred handes,
Strives, as it were, to pull him from his throne
Which gave him being, & through whom alone
He his well-being has. O, impious deed,
Which to recount my very heart doth bleed!
That wee (like to those giants, which made warre
Against the heavens) with such presumption dare
Lift vp our selues against our Maker by
So many kinde of damnd impietie,
So many hellish sinnes, whose hideous cry
Percing the clowdes, mounting aboue the skie,
Affront Gods power, & doe deserve to finde
Another Deluge to destroy mankinde.
But God, this gracious God, with mercie strives
To bring vs to him & to saue our lives;
And therfore hath chalkd out a ready way,
(That we no more might goe so farre astray)
His Gospell; which path (if not trod amisse)
Will safelie bring vs to celestiall blisse.
This profferd grace some see not, some despise,
Although herein alone their safetie lies.
Omitting Iewish superstition
With soule-profaning Turkish Alcheron,
And Infidels, which noe religion vse,
Whose ignorance cannot their sinne excuse:
We that doe boast of Christianity,
And knowledge in Gods holie misterie,
With sects & scismes our religion
Have made a chaos of confusion.
Our Anabaptists I will set aside,
With Families of Love, whose aimes are wide
From the true faith. There is a trinall kinde
Of seeming good religion, yet I finde
But one to be embrac'd, which must be drawne
From Papist, Protestant, or Puritane.
With soule-profaning Turkish Alcheron,
And Infidels, which noe religion vse,
Whose ignorance cannot their sinne excuse:
We that doe boast of Christianity,
And knowledge in Gods holie misterie,
With sects & scismes our religion
Have made a chaos of confusion.
Our Anabaptists I will set aside,
With Families of Love, whose aimes are wide
10
Of seeming good religion, yet I finde
But one to be embrac'd, which must be drawne
From Papist, Protestant, or Puritane.
And first to speake of that pure seeming sect,
Which now of late beginneth to infect
The body of our land:—This kinde of men
Is strangelie (for I know not how nor when)
Become so populous, that with the number,
But more with new devises, it doth cumber
Our Catholique Church, & sticks as a disease
Within her bowels; whilst it seems to please
With fainèd habite of true holinesse
Which is indeed the worst of wickednesse.
The thought of this hath set my Muse one fire,
And I must rage e're I can swage mine ire.
You hypocriticall precisians,
By vulgar phrase entitled Puritanes,
Which make of superficiall sanctitie
A cloke, to hide your inbred villanie;
You soules-seducers vnto worst of evils,
You seeming saints & yet incarnat devils,
How dare ye slander our religion,
And make a scoffe at our devotion?
How dare you with opprobrious wordes revile,
Or with vnhallowed actions thus defile
The sacred orders which our Church doth hold,
And sanctimonious customes, which of olde
Haue by grave counsels, to a godlie end,
Not superstition, as you doe pretend,
Been instituted? Cease your open wrongs!
Cannot our Bishops scape your slanderous tongues?
No: you maligne their great authoritie,
Because they doe search out your villanie.
You must haue private meetings! To what end?
In bellie-cheer and lust your time to spend.
O rare devotion & strange holinesse,
Which endes in soule polluting beastlinesse!
Well may you blinde the eyes of common sence,
And passe for men of zeale & confidence
'Mongst simple worldlings, which by outward shew
Doth iudge the inward man; but God doth know
All your intents, & with severity
Will castigate your damnd hypocrisie.
In the mean time may you be forcd to dwell
At Amsterdam, or else sent quicke to hell.
Which now of late beginneth to infect
The body of our land:—This kinde of men
Is strangelie (for I know not how nor when)
Become so populous, that with the number,
But more with new devises, it doth cumber
Our Catholique Church, & sticks as a disease
Within her bowels; whilst it seems to please
With fainèd habite of true holinesse
Which is indeed the worst of wickednesse.
The thought of this hath set my Muse one fire,
And I must rage e're I can swage mine ire.
You hypocriticall precisians,
By vulgar phrase entitled Puritanes,
Which make of superficiall sanctitie
A cloke, to hide your inbred villanie;
You soules-seducers vnto worst of evils,
You seeming saints & yet incarnat devils,
How dare ye slander our religion,
And make a scoffe at our devotion?
How dare you with opprobrious wordes revile,
Or with vnhallowed actions thus defile
The sacred orders which our Church doth hold,
And sanctimonious customes, which of olde
Haue by grave counsels, to a godlie end,
Not superstition, as you doe pretend,
Been instituted? Cease your open wrongs!
Cannot our Bishops scape your slanderous tongues?
No: you maligne their great authoritie,
Because they doe search out your villanie.
You must haue private meetings! To what end?
In bellie-cheer and lust your time to spend.
11
Which endes in soule polluting beastlinesse!
Well may you blinde the eyes of common sence,
And passe for men of zeale & confidence
'Mongst simple worldlings, which by outward shew
Doth iudge the inward man; but God doth know
All your intents, & with severity
Will castigate your damnd hypocrisie.
In the mean time may you be forcd to dwell
At Amsterdam, or else sent quicke to hell.
For now my Muse doth hear another motion;—
“Ignorance is the mother of devotion!”
Erroneous papist, hast soe litle grace?
Thou knowst 'tis false, then how, or with what face
Canst thou maintaine against thy conscience
So manyfest an errour without sence?
For how can he be good that knowes no cause
Whie he is good, but like a milhorse drawes,
Blindfolded, in a circle? Yet you teach
(For to the learnèd I addresse my speech)
Religion in an vnknowne tongue to those
Whom we call common people; I suppose,
Nay trulie may averre, you doe conceale
Your misteries, not daring them reveale,
Lest that the people, knowing them for lies,
Should contemne you & hate your heresies:
You that are worse then cannibals by oddes,
For they devoure but men, you eat the gods!
From whom doe you assume authoritie
To pardon capitall iniquity?
Why, not from God, the Pope 's sufficient
To pardon sinne & divert punnishment.
Who taught you soe, you wilfully blinde fooles?
Sure Satan read this lecture in his schooles.
Wher did you learne? (was't in the Devils booke?
For from Gods word I 'me sure you never tooke
Such damnable positions) that to murder
A prince, which doth not your religion furder,
Is a moste lawfull act, yea commendable,
For which you will at any time enable
That man with your best benediction,
And all his sinnes free absolution,
And warrantize him heaven & happie day:
(“A warrant seald with butter!” as we say).
All this, & more then this, you will performe,
Be 't to the meanest abject, basest worme,
That dares attempt soe horrible a deed.
And though his enterprise doe not succeed,
(As God forbid it should) but he doe die
For his lewd treason, he shall instantlie
Be canonizd a Saint. Ravilliacke
Doth neither Saints nor Martires title lacke.
But you had reason: his vnhappy hand
Destroyde a kinge, & almost brought a land
To vtter ruin; for being thus defilde
With her owne princes blood, a tender childe
Was to succeed, & we know Scriptures say,
“Woe to those landes whose scepters children sway.”
But Faux & his confederats are enrolde
For blessed Saints among you.—Who will holde
Your piety authenticall, which makes
Such hell-houndes Saints? What godly heart not quakes
To hear such mischiefe, to record such evill,
As they would haue committed? The grand Devill
Was their instructer sure, else could they not
Haue once devisde soe damnable a plott,
As by one blast our king to ruinat,
And our whole kingdome to depopulate,
And spoile of her best treasure. But high Iove,
Against whose power in vaine their forces strove,
Crost their designes, & with a mighty arme
Delivered vs from the pernicious harme
Of that moste eminent danger; to whose Name
All praise & all thanksgiving for the same
We doe ascribe; beseching him to blesse
Our realme from you & your accomplices.
But to proceed: no man may kill his prince
Although a tyrant; which I could evince
By arguments drawne from the word of God,
But I too long one this haue made abode.
“Ignorance is the mother of devotion!”
Erroneous papist, hast soe litle grace?
Thou knowst 'tis false, then how, or with what face
Canst thou maintaine against thy conscience
So manyfest an errour without sence?
For how can he be good that knowes no cause
Whie he is good, but like a milhorse drawes,
Blindfolded, in a circle? Yet you teach
(For to the learnèd I addresse my speech)
Religion in an vnknowne tongue to those
Whom we call common people; I suppose,
Nay trulie may averre, you doe conceale
Your misteries, not daring them reveale,
Lest that the people, knowing them for lies,
Should contemne you & hate your heresies:
You that are worse then cannibals by oddes,
For they devoure but men, you eat the gods!
From whom doe you assume authoritie
To pardon capitall iniquity?
Why, not from God, the Pope 's sufficient
To pardon sinne & divert punnishment.
Who taught you soe, you wilfully blinde fooles?
Sure Satan read this lecture in his schooles.
Wher did you learne? (was't in the Devils booke?
For from Gods word I 'me sure you never tooke
12
A prince, which doth not your religion furder,
Is a moste lawfull act, yea commendable,
For which you will at any time enable
That man with your best benediction,
And all his sinnes free absolution,
And warrantize him heaven & happie day:
(“A warrant seald with butter!” as we say).
All this, & more then this, you will performe,
Be 't to the meanest abject, basest worme,
That dares attempt soe horrible a deed.
And though his enterprise doe not succeed,
(As God forbid it should) but he doe die
For his lewd treason, he shall instantlie
Be canonizd a Saint. Ravilliacke
Doth neither Saints nor Martires title lacke.
But you had reason: his vnhappy hand
Destroyde a kinge, & almost brought a land
To vtter ruin; for being thus defilde
With her owne princes blood, a tender childe
Was to succeed, & we know Scriptures say,
“Woe to those landes whose scepters children sway.”
But Faux & his confederats are enrolde
For blessed Saints among you.—Who will holde
Your piety authenticall, which makes
Such hell-houndes Saints? What godly heart not quakes
To hear such mischiefe, to record such evill,
As they would haue committed? The grand Devill
Was their instructer sure, else could they not
Haue once devisde soe damnable a plott,
As by one blast our king to ruinat,
And our whole kingdome to depopulate,
13
Against whose power in vaine their forces strove,
Crost their designes, & with a mighty arme
Delivered vs from the pernicious harme
Of that moste eminent danger; to whose Name
All praise & all thanksgiving for the same
We doe ascribe; beseching him to blesse
Our realme from you & your accomplices.
But to proceed: no man may kill his prince
Although a tyrant; which I could evince
By arguments drawne from the word of God,
But I too long one this haue made abode.
Besides your errour I soe plaine repute,
As needs noe disputation to confute,
There are more errours of especiall note,
Which, if I list recite, I heer could cote;
But I doe leave them for the learned pen
Of great divines and more iudicious men.
Your holy water, purgatorie, bulles,
Wherwith you make the common people gulles,
Are grosse abuses of phantastique braines
Subtillie devisd'e only for private gaines,
Which you pull from the simple as you list,
Keeping them blinded in black errours mist;
And from the truth doe lead them clean astray,
Whilst of their substance you doe make your prey.
You false impostors of blinde ignorance,
Think you to 'scape eternall vengeance?
'Tis not your Popes fond dispensation,
Your workes of supererrogation,
Your idle crossings, or your wearing haire
Next to your skin, or all your whipping-cheer,
Your praiers & pilgrimage to Saints, your pixes,
Your holy reliques, beads, & crucifixes,
Your masses, Ave Maries, images,
Dirges, & such like idle fantasies
Of superstitiously polluted Rome,
Can saue your soules in that great day of doome.
As needs noe disputation to confute,
There are more errours of especiall note,
Which, if I list recite, I heer could cote;
But I doe leave them for the learned pen
Of great divines and more iudicious men.
Your holy water, purgatorie, bulles,
Wherwith you make the common people gulles,
Are grosse abuses of phantastique braines
Subtillie devisd'e only for private gaines,
Which you pull from the simple as you list,
Keeping them blinded in black errours mist;
And from the truth doe lead them clean astray,
Whilst of their substance you doe make your prey.
You false impostors of blinde ignorance,
Think you to 'scape eternall vengeance?
'Tis not your Popes fond dispensation,
Your workes of supererrogation,
Your idle crossings, or your wearing haire
Next to your skin, or all your whipping-cheer,
Your praiers & pilgrimage to Saints, your pixes,
Your holy reliques, beads, & crucifixes,
Your masses, Ave Maries, images,
Dirges, & such like idle fantasies
14
Can saue your soules in that great day of doome.
Between these sects, as in a golden meane,
Stands the religion whervnto we leane;
Vndoubted truth it is that we doe holde,
Yet is our zeale so frozen & so colde,
So chockt with thornes of covetous desire,
So hoggishlie polluted with the mire
Of carnall lusts, that our best sanctity
Is but a kinde of bastard piety.
And yet the times as now did ne're afford
Such plenty of dispencers of Gods word;
For now the Gospell, like the midday sunne,
Displaies his beames over all Albion.
But we, as if by too much light strucke blinde,
Neglect this meanes of grace, which is assignd
For our soules health. Some out of pride contemne it,
Others, bent vnto greedy gaine, condemne it,
Because it speakes against the slavish vice
Of soule-bewitching, sordid avarice.
Others, that follow Epicureus fashion,
Cannot abide to hear of reformation,
And therfore hate the Gospell, which doth cry
Against their brutish sensuality.
Many there are which live like libertines,
And the holy C[h]urch & good devines
Doe hold ridiculous;—their homely homes
Will serve them well enough to pray, when 't comes
Into their fancies; they cannot abide
Vnto Church orders strictlie to be tide.
Others, forsooth, will haue a congregation,
But that must be after another fashion
Then our Church doth allow,—no church at all,—
For that they say is too papisticall;
Like their profession, they themselves will sever
From stone walles;—tut, their church shall last for ever;
Theire soules shalbe their tabernacles still,
That kinde of church doth only please their will.
Iove separat me from these Separists,
Which think they hold heavens kingdome in their fists,
And yet their life, if we into it prie,
Is full of sinne & damnd impiety.
Stands the religion whervnto we leane;
Vndoubted truth it is that we doe holde,
Yet is our zeale so frozen & so colde,
So chockt with thornes of covetous desire,
So hoggishlie polluted with the mire
Of carnall lusts, that our best sanctity
Is but a kinde of bastard piety.
And yet the times as now did ne're afford
Such plenty of dispencers of Gods word;
For now the Gospell, like the midday sunne,
Displaies his beames over all Albion.
But we, as if by too much light strucke blinde,
Neglect this meanes of grace, which is assignd
For our soules health. Some out of pride contemne it,
Others, bent vnto greedy gaine, condemne it,
Because it speakes against the slavish vice
Of soule-bewitching, sordid avarice.
Others, that follow Epicureus fashion,
Cannot abide to hear of reformation,
And therfore hate the Gospell, which doth cry
Against their brutish sensuality.
Many there are which live like libertines,
And the holy C[h]urch & good devines
Doe hold ridiculous;—their homely homes
Will serve them well enough to pray, when 't comes
Into their fancies; they cannot abide
Vnto Church orders strictlie to be tide.
Others, forsooth, will haue a congregation,
But that must be after another fashion
Then our Church doth allow,—no church at all,—
For that they say is too papisticall;
Like their profession, they themselves will sever
15
Theire soules shalbe their tabernacles still,
That kinde of church doth only please their will.
Iove separat me from these Separists,
Which think they hold heavens kingdome in their fists,
And yet their life, if we into it prie,
Is full of sinne & damnd impiety.
Some, more for fear of the lawes punnishment
Then zeale vnto devotion, doe frequent
Gods holy temple, where they doe imploy
Themselves as ill as if they staide away;
On[e] part in sleeping, in discourse another;
A third doth seeme to marke, but doth discover
Slilie some object that withdrawes his eye
From what he should attend; the yoonger frie
Come only to be seen & see: of all
Which doe repaire to church, the fruit is smale
That is collected by them. I surmise
That wickednesse by this doth rather rise
To greater height, then anywise decaie;
For pride & lust it is the ready way
I'me sure. Of every new framd fashion,
This is the place to make moste ostentation,
To shew the bravery of our gay attire
Hether to come on purpose; our desire
Is to be seen of all, whilst we observe
The like in others. Though our soules doe sterve
For want of knowledge, we doe litle care;
From gazing vp and downe we cannot spare
A iot of time to hearken to Gods word,
When all's to litle that we doe afforde
To our owne fancies; thus the time we spend,
Which devine service soone brings to an end;
And then againe we homeward doe advaunce,
Fuller of pride, as full of ignorance.
Is there a wench whose beauty is of note?
Hether your gallants come, only to cote
Her rare perfections; yea, this sacred place
Serves them to make (they have soe litle grace)
Compacts for lust. Thus by these hellish evils
The howse of God is made a den of devils.
Then zeale vnto devotion, doe frequent
Gods holy temple, where they doe imploy
Themselves as ill as if they staide away;
On[e] part in sleeping, in discourse another;
A third doth seeme to marke, but doth discover
Slilie some object that withdrawes his eye
From what he should attend; the yoonger frie
Come only to be seen & see: of all
Which doe repaire to church, the fruit is smale
That is collected by them. I surmise
That wickednesse by this doth rather rise
To greater height, then anywise decaie;
For pride & lust it is the ready way
I'me sure. Of every new framd fashion,
This is the place to make moste ostentation,
To shew the bravery of our gay attire
Hether to come on purpose; our desire
Is to be seen of all, whilst we observe
The like in others. Though our soules doe sterve
For want of knowledge, we doe litle care;
From gazing vp and downe we cannot spare
A iot of time to hearken to Gods word,
When all's to litle that we doe afforde
To our owne fancies; thus the time we spend,
Which devine service soone brings to an end;
And then againe we homeward doe advaunce,
Fuller of pride, as full of ignorance.
Is there a wench whose beauty is of note?
16
Her rare perfections; yea, this sacred place
Serves them to make (they have soe litle grace)
Compacts for lust. Thus by these hellish evils
The howse of God is made a den of devils.
I speake not this to hinder the concourse
Of well affected mindes vnto that source,
That fountaine, blessed fountaine, which doth flow
With living waters, Gods word; no, my bow
Aimes at another marke; I onlie strive
To rectifie abuses which deprive
The Gospell of his propagation,
And plentifull encrease. Our nation
Rather needs spurres to quicken his slow pace
Vnto religion & the house of grace.
For some there are which gape soe after gaine,
That on the Lords day they will not refraine,
So 't to their benefit tend, to exercise
Themselves in some laborious enterprise.
In towne & cuntrie this vngodlie sinne
To grow vnto a custome doth beginne;
Your country swaines will moste familiarlie
Worke one this day & labour impiouslie.
But 'mongst our tradesmen specially, this vse,
Which I may iustlie call a damnd abuse,
Is most familiar. Six dayes in the weeke
Are not sufficient, but the seventh must reeke
With sweat of their vngodly labour, when
They should repaire to church with other men,
To give vnto the Lord, the only Giver
Of blessings, & the gracious Forgiver
Of hell deserving sinnes, all praiers & praise.
What though the word of God expresly sayes,
“This is the day which thou must dedicate
Vnto my service, this day at no rate
Shalt thou performe thy worke, least thou doe draw
My heavy wrath vpon thee?” Though the law
Of man forbid the same, and doe inflict
A punnishment on those it doth convict
Of this offence; yet fearlesse of all danger,
From the man borne i' th' land vnto the stranger,
If they can cast a mist before the eye
Of sinne-correcting, strict authority,
Moste of our tradesmen will enact this crime;
It stands not with their profit to loose time;
They'l take their best advantage while they may;
It is sufficient once a month to pray.
Vngracious villaines, how can you expect
A blessing to your labour, which neglect
The only meanes, Gods service, which alone
Can bring your workes vnto perfection?
The manna gathered in the wildernesse
By the Iewes vnbeelieving wickednesse
Vpon their Sabboth, by the Lord forbidden,
Both putrifide & stuncke. Nothing is hidden
Which shall not be reveald; though you may blinde
The eyes of man, there is a God will finde
And punnish this lewd sinne. I' th' meantime think
That all such labours in his nostrils stinke,
And therfore shall prove fruitlesse: men intend
But God it is that consummates the end.
Of well affected mindes vnto that source,
That fountaine, blessed fountaine, which doth flow
With living waters, Gods word; no, my bow
Aimes at another marke; I onlie strive
To rectifie abuses which deprive
The Gospell of his propagation,
And plentifull encrease. Our nation
Rather needs spurres to quicken his slow pace
Vnto religion & the house of grace.
For some there are which gape soe after gaine,
That on the Lords day they will not refraine,
So 't to their benefit tend, to exercise
Themselves in some laborious enterprise.
In towne & cuntrie this vngodlie sinne
To grow vnto a custome doth beginne;
Your country swaines will moste familiarlie
Worke one this day & labour impiouslie.
But 'mongst our tradesmen specially, this vse,
Which I may iustlie call a damnd abuse,
Is most familiar. Six dayes in the weeke
Are not sufficient, but the seventh must reeke
With sweat of their vngodly labour, when
They should repaire to church with other men,
To give vnto the Lord, the only Giver
Of blessings, & the gracious Forgiver
Of hell deserving sinnes, all praiers & praise.
What though the word of God expresly sayes,
“This is the day which thou must dedicate
Vnto my service, this day at no rate
Shalt thou performe thy worke, least thou doe draw
17
Of man forbid the same, and doe inflict
A punnishment on those it doth convict
Of this offence; yet fearlesse of all danger,
From the man borne i' th' land vnto the stranger,
If they can cast a mist before the eye
Of sinne-correcting, strict authority,
Moste of our tradesmen will enact this crime;
It stands not with their profit to loose time;
They'l take their best advantage while they may;
It is sufficient once a month to pray.
Vngracious villaines, how can you expect
A blessing to your labour, which neglect
The only meanes, Gods service, which alone
Can bring your workes vnto perfection?
The manna gathered in the wildernesse
By the Iewes vnbeelieving wickednesse
Vpon their Sabboth, by the Lord forbidden,
Both putrifide & stuncke. Nothing is hidden
Which shall not be reveald; though you may blinde
The eyes of man, there is a God will finde
And punnish this lewd sinne. I' th' meantime think
That all such labours in his nostrils stinke,
And therfore shall prove fruitlesse: men intend
But God it is that consummates the end.
I cannot 'scape the blest Communion,
Which doth with God effect our vnion,
It is soe much abusd by sinfull man,—
To passe the papist & the Lutheran,
Their trans & consubstantiation,
Of both these errors to make no relation,—
We that doe holde the verity indeed,
That this same bred, wheron our soules doe feed,
This wine we drink, is reall bred and wine,
Although the mistery be moste devine;
Even we, I say, though we doe represent
The true opinion of the Sacrament,
Yet in the vse doe erre, nay rather sinne,
Which applide rightly is the meanes to winne
Eternall life. Some men, which are vnable
To iudge the worth, come to this Holy Table
Only to please their sence; others there are
Which for so smale a pittaunce doe not care;—
“What is a bitte of bread, a sip of wine?”—
But that the law doth straightly them enioyne,
To be partakers of this holy meat
And sacred drink. By farre they'd rather eat
At their owne howses, wher their carnall sence
May be suffic'd; their soules intelligence
May sterve for want of this spirituall food,
And they regard it not. That's only good
In their grosse braines, whose visibility
And appetituall sensibility
Lies open to their sence. Others ther be,
Which doe indeed esteem more reverendlie
Of the Lords Supper; & because they knowe
The danger great, that to their soules may grow
By their vnworthy eating, quite refuse
To be partakers of it; still they vse
Some let or other to detaine them back;
Either they doe due preparation lacke,
Or else they are not in true charity
With other men. Ther must noe malice be
In a communicant: 'tis true.—What then?
Doe you surmise, O shallow-pated men,
That this excuse is all sufficient
To satisfie for such a foule intent?
No, simple worldlings; the king made his feast,
And you were bidden to it 'mongst the rest;
But 'cause you would not come, you shall not tast
His sacred supper, but you shalbe cast
Into that pitt, with the ungodlie rout,
Where the worme dies not, the fire ne're goes out.
And soe shall likewise he that boldlie came
Without his wedding roabe; I mean the same
Which comes vnto the Table of the Lord
As to some common, ordinarie bord,
And never seekes to make true preparation,
But even eats & drinkes his owne damnation.
Which doth with God effect our vnion,
It is soe much abusd by sinfull man,—
To passe the papist & the Lutheran,
Their trans & consubstantiation,
Of both these errors to make no relation,—
We that doe holde the verity indeed,
That this same bred, wheron our soules doe feed,
This wine we drink, is reall bred and wine,
Although the mistery be moste devine;
Even we, I say, though we doe represent
18
Yet in the vse doe erre, nay rather sinne,
Which applide rightly is the meanes to winne
Eternall life. Some men, which are vnable
To iudge the worth, come to this Holy Table
Only to please their sence; others there are
Which for so smale a pittaunce doe not care;—
“What is a bitte of bread, a sip of wine?”—
But that the law doth straightly them enioyne,
To be partakers of this holy meat
And sacred drink. By farre they'd rather eat
At their owne howses, wher their carnall sence
May be suffic'd; their soules intelligence
May sterve for want of this spirituall food,
And they regard it not. That's only good
In their grosse braines, whose visibility
And appetituall sensibility
Lies open to their sence. Others ther be,
Which doe indeed esteem more reverendlie
Of the Lords Supper; & because they knowe
The danger great, that to their soules may grow
By their vnworthy eating, quite refuse
To be partakers of it; still they vse
Some let or other to detaine them back;
Either they doe due preparation lacke,
Or else they are not in true charity
With other men. Ther must noe malice be
In a communicant: 'tis true.—What then?
Doe you surmise, O shallow-pated men,
That this excuse is all sufficient
To satisfie for such a foule intent?
No, simple worldlings; the king made his feast,
And you were bidden to it 'mongst the rest;
But 'cause you would not come, you shall not tast
His sacred supper, but you shalbe cast
Into that pitt, with the ungodlie rout,
19
And soe shall likewise he that boldlie came
Without his wedding roabe; I mean the same
Which comes vnto the Table of the Lord
As to some common, ordinarie bord,
And never seekes to make true preparation,
But even eats & drinkes his owne damnation.
It is a lamentable thing to see
The ignorance & strange stupidity
Of men now living in the clearest light
Of the resplendant Gospell, as if night
Of darkest errour still ecclips'd their eyes;
They are so rude in the true misteries
Of their salvation, scarce one man 'mong ten
Can giue a true account of 's faith; nor, when
He comes to due examination,
How he hath made his preparation
For the Lords Table, iustlie tell the number
Of Sacraments; this only thing doth cumber
The wits of many & confounds their sence,
As I haue seen by plaine experience.
How far then are they from the perfect knowing
Of their true vse! yet these men will be shewing
Themselues moste forward to receive; but what
They know not, nor they care not much for that;
But for the world, to purchase earthly gaine,
They follow that with dayly sweat and paine.
The ignorance & strange stupidity
Of men now living in the clearest light
Of the resplendant Gospell, as if night
Of darkest errour still ecclips'd their eyes;
They are so rude in the true misteries
Of their salvation, scarce one man 'mong ten
Can giue a true account of 's faith; nor, when
He comes to due examination,
How he hath made his preparation
For the Lords Table, iustlie tell the number
Of Sacraments; this only thing doth cumber
The wits of many & confounds their sence,
As I haue seen by plaine experience.
How far then are they from the perfect knowing
Of their true vse! yet these men will be shewing
Themselues moste forward to receive; but what
They know not, nor they care not much for that;
But for the world, to purchase earthly gaine,
They follow that with dayly sweat and paine.
It is a custome, lewd enough I 'me sure,
(And I doe wonder that our lawes endure
Such profane vses) after the receate
Of that cœlestiall sacramentall meat,
For olde & young i' th' country frequently
Vpon that day to vse most luxurie.
Each on[e] must then vnto an alehouse run,
Drink drunk, act any sinne vnder the sunne.
Why? this same day's a day of iubile;
It hath been an accustomd liberty
To spend this day in mirth, and th[e]y will choose
Rather their soules then priviledges loose.
And soe (I fear) not few among them will;
For they, which on this day doe drink & swill
In such lewd fashion, may be likened well
To him that swept the howse wher he did dwell,
And made it clean, & garnisht it full faire;
After which act ther did to him repaire
Seven evill fiends worse then the former were;
More ougly sinnes did enter & dwell there,
And by his falling to more wicked sinning,
He made his end far worse then his begining.
So is 't with them that in this sort doe sinne,
Satan stands close ready to enter in,
Even as he did in Iudas, which had eat
Vnworthily the sacramentall meat.
And yet fond man regardeth not one whit,
Till he have made himselfe the devils bit,
Who at two bits, for so his name imports,
Devours both soule & body, mans two parts.
(And I doe wonder that our lawes endure
Such profane vses) after the receate
Of that cœlestiall sacramentall meat,
For olde & young i' th' country frequently
Vpon that day to vse most luxurie.
Each on[e] must then vnto an alehouse run,
Drink drunk, act any sinne vnder the sunne.
Why? this same day's a day of iubile;
20
To spend this day in mirth, and th[e]y will choose
Rather their soules then priviledges loose.
And soe (I fear) not few among them will;
For they, which on this day doe drink & swill
In such lewd fashion, may be likened well
To him that swept the howse wher he did dwell,
And made it clean, & garnisht it full faire;
After which act ther did to him repaire
Seven evill fiends worse then the former were;
More ougly sinnes did enter & dwell there,
And by his falling to more wicked sinning,
He made his end far worse then his begining.
So is 't with them that in this sort doe sinne,
Satan stands close ready to enter in,
Even as he did in Iudas, which had eat
Vnworthily the sacramentall meat.
And yet fond man regardeth not one whit,
Till he have made himselfe the devils bit,
Who at two bits, for so his name imports,
Devours both soule & body, mans two parts.
Thus is man blowne, by every puffe of vanity,
From the true scope of Christianity,
His soules salvation. Wretched, wicked man,
Returne, repent! Thy life is but a spanne,
A breath, a buble; think that thou must die
To live in joyes or endlesse miserie.
And if the comfort of celestiall blisse,
Whose joy beyond imagination is,
Haue not sufficient power to mollifie
Thy heart, heart hardned in iniquity,
Yet let the horrour of damnation,
Of whose strange paines no tongue can make relation,
Enforce repentance with a true contrition,
And that produce a forward disposition
To a new course of life; refuse not grace
While it is offered; while ther 's time & space
Dally not with repentance, least iust Iove
Convert to furie his contemnèd love;
And in that ire, iustly conceivèd ire,
Confine thy soule to hells tormenting fire.
From the true scope of Christianity,
His soules salvation. Wretched, wicked man,
Returne, repent! Thy life is but a spanne,
A breath, a buble; think that thou must die
To live in joyes or endlesse miserie.
And if the comfort of celestiall blisse,
Whose joy beyond imagination is,
Haue not sufficient power to mollifie
Thy heart, heart hardned in iniquity,
Yet let the horrour of damnation,
Of whose strange paines no tongue can make relation,
Enforce repentance with a true contrition,
And that produce a forward disposition
21
While it is offered; while ther 's time & space
Dally not with repentance, least iust Iove
Convert to furie his contemnèd love;
And in that ire, iustly conceivèd ire,
Confine thy soule to hells tormenting fire.
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