The Second part of The Nights Search Discovering The Condition of the various Fowles of Night. Or, The second great Mystery of Iniquity exactly revealed: With the Projects of these Times. In a Poem, By Humphrey Mill |
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To all Judges, Justices, Church-Wardens, Constables, &c.
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 | The Second part of The Nights Search |  |
To all Judges, Justices, Church-Wardens, Constables, &c.
You whom, Astrea greets, were you all right,
I had not been so sharp, nor had this night
Been twisted into whip-cord: Was it made,
To help the Jaylours, or the Beadles trade?
I am your Vsher, come, for here's a race
Able to bring the Hang-man to disgrace.
I had not been so sharp, nor had this night
Been twisted into whip-cord: Was it made,
To help the Jaylours, or the Beadles trade?
I am your Vsher, come, for here's a race
Able to bring the Hang-man to disgrace.
You are to find out sinners, and to give,
Them punishment; that honestie might live
In Courts of justice; that the world may see,
How some of widow Truths posteritie
Do walk in gownes; should favour, friends, or lyes,
Or feare, or bribes, blind any of your eyes?
But ah! they do too much! some of you nurse
These Fly-blowne vermin, stiled Englands curse.
Convert not sins, nor plagues into a jest,
Nor yet with mischiefes make your selves a feast.
I do but move in Court, I dare not treat
With upstart Plush, which sin hath made so great.
Them punishment; that honestie might live
In Courts of justice; that the world may see,
How some of widow Truths posteritie
Do walk in gownes; should favour, friends, or lyes,
Or feare, or bribes, blind any of your eyes?
But ah! they do too much! some of you nurse
These Fly-blowne vermin, stiled Englands curse.
Convert not sins, nor plagues into a jest,
Nor yet with mischiefes make your selves a feast.
I do but move in Court, I dare not treat
With upstart Plush, which sin hath made so great.
To Justices, and Judges, I present
(And all inferiour Officers intent
Vpon the publike good) these humble straines,
As the untutour'd issue of my braines,
Rough with revenge; although conceiv'd at night,
You may bring forth my black birds to the light,
And heare'em chirp. Let sin have no release,
Which nourisheth our woes, and wounds our peace.
(And all inferiour Officers intent
Vpon the publike good) these humble straines,
As the untutour'd issue of my braines,
Rough with revenge; although conceiv'd at night,
You may bring forth my black birds to the light,
And heare'em chirp. Let sin have no release,
Which nourisheth our woes, and wounds our peace.
| The Second part of The Nights Search | |