Men-Miracles With other Poemes. By M. LL. St [i.e.Martin Lluelyn] |
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To my Lord B. of S. he being at Yorke.
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 | Men-Miracles |  |
93
To my Lord B. of S. he being at Yorke.
My Lord,
VYhen you were last at London 'twas our feare,
Lest the same Rout which threatned Majesty.
Might strike at you: 'tis but the same Career
To aime at Crownes, and at the Miter fly.
For still the Scepter and the Crosier staffe
Together fall, 'cause they're together safe.
Lest the same Rout which threatned Majesty.
Might strike at you: 'tis but the same Career
To aime at Crownes, and at the Miter fly.
For still the Scepter and the Crosier staffe
Together fall, 'cause they're together safe.
Yet while the sence of Tumults deepest grow,
And presse in us, no doubts in you arise;
There still dwelt calme and quiet in your Brow,
As our Distractions were your Exercise:
And taught us, all assaults, all Ills to beare,
Is not to fly from Danger, but from Feare.
And presse in us, no doubts in you arise;
There still dwelt calme and quiet in your Brow,
As our Distractions were your Exercise:
And taught us, all assaults, all Ills to beare,
Is not to fly from Danger, but from Feare.
That Courage waites you still, some meerely rode
From Tumults and the Peoples franticke Rage,
Counting their safety by their farre abode,
And so grew safer still at the next stage:
But 'tis not space that shelters you, the rest
Secure themselves by Miles, you by your Breast.
From Tumults and the Peoples franticke Rage,
Counting their safety by their farre abode,
And so grew safer still at the next stage:
But 'tis not space that shelters you, the rest
Secure themselves by Miles, you by your Breast.
94
And now, my Lord, since you have London left,
Where Merchants wives dine cheape, and as cheape sup,
Where Fooles themselves have of their Plate bereft,
And sigh and drinke in the course Pewter cuppe.
Where's not a Silver Spoone left, not that given than
When the first Cockney was made Christian.
Where Merchants wives dine cheape, and as cheape sup,
Where Fooles themselves have of their Plate bereft,
And sigh and drinke in the course Pewter cuppe.
Where's not a Silver Spoone left, not that given than
When the first Cockney was made Christian.
No not a Bodkin, Pincase, all they send
Or carry all, what ever they can happe-on,
Ev'n to the pretty Pick Tooth, whose each end
Oft purg'd the Relickes of continuall Capon.
Nothing must stay behind, nothing must tarry,
No not the Ring by which deare Joane tooke Harry.
Or carry all, what ever they can happe-on,
Ev'n to the pretty Pick Tooth, whose each end
Oft purg'd the Relickes of continuall Capon.
Nothing must stay behind, nothing must tarry,
No not the Ring by which deare Joane tooke Harry.
But now no City-Villaine, though he were
Free of a Trade and Treason, dares intrude,
No sawcy Prentises assault you there,
Engag'd by their Indentures to be rude:
Whom for the two first yeares their Masters use,
Onely to cry downe Bishops, and cleanse Shooes.
Free of a Trade and Treason, dares intrude,
No sawcy Prentises assault you there,
Engag'd by their Indentures to be rude:
Whom for the two first yeares their Masters use,
Onely to cry downe Bishops, and cleanse Shooes.
There as in silent Orbes you may ride on,
And as in Charles his Waine move without jarres,
Your Coach will seeme your Constellation,
Not drawne about by Horses, but by starres.
Till seated neere the Northerne Pole, we thence
Judge your seate spheare you its Intelligence.
And as in Charles his Waine move without jarres,
Your Coach will seeme your Constellation,
Not drawne about by Horses, but by starres.
95
Judge your seate spheare you its Intelligence.
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