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MADRIGAL.-CLVIII.

IF light be not beguil❜d,

And eyes right play their part,

This flow'r is not of art, but fairest nature's child;
And though, when Titan's from our world exil'd,
She doth not look, her leaves, his loss to moan,
To wonder earth finds now more suns than one.

EPIGRAM.-CLIX.

WHEN lately Pym descended into hell,
Ere he the cups of Lethe did carouse,
What place that was, he called loud to tell;
To whom a devil-This is the Lower House.

THE STATUE OF ALCIDES. CLX.

FLORA, upon a time,

Naked Alcides' statue did behold;

And with delight admir'd each am'rous limb;
Only one fault, she said, could be of 't told.
For, by right symmetry,

The craftsman had him wrong'd;

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GREAT lies they tell, preach our church cannot err;
Less lies, who say the king's not head of her ;
Great lies, who cry we may shed other's blood,
Less lies, who swear dumb bishops are not good;
Great lies they vent, say we for God do fight,
Less lies, who guess the king does nothing right;
Great lies and less lies all our aims descry;
To pulpits some, to camp the rest apply.

THE

CHARACTER

OF AN

ANTI-COVENANTER, OR MALIGNANT.

CLXII.

WOULD you know these royal knaves,

Of free men would turn us slaves;

Who our union do defame

With rebellion's wicked name?

Read these verses, and ye 'll spring 'em,

Then on gibbets straight cause hing 'em.

They complain of sin and folly;
In these times so passing holy,
They their substance will not give,
Libertines that we may live.

Hold those subjects too, too wanton,
Under an old king dare canton.

Neglect they do our circ❜lar tables,
Scorn our acts and laws as fables;
Of our battles talk but meekly,
With four sermons pleas'd are weekly;
Swear king Charles is neither papist,
Arminian, Lutheran, or atheist.

But that in his chamber pray'rs,
Which are pour'd 'midst sighs and tears,
To avert God's fearful wrath,

Threat'ning us with blood and death;
Persuade they would the multitude,

This king too holy is and good.

They avouch we 'll weep and groan
When hundred kings we serve for one;
That each shire but blood affords,

To serve th' ambition of young lords;
Whose debts ere now had been redoubled,
If the state had not been troubled.

Slow they are our oath to swear,
Slower for it arms to bear:

They do concord, love, and peace,
Would our enemies embrace,
Turn men proselytes by the word,
Not by musket, pike, and sword.

They swear that for religion's sake
We may not massacre, burn, sack:
That the beginning of these pleas,
Sprang from the ill-sped A, B, C's.
For servants that it is not well
Against their masters to rebel.

That that devotion is but slight,

Doth force men first to swear, then fight. That our confession is indeed

Not the Apostolic Creed;

Which of negations we contrive,

Which Turk and Jew may both subscrive.

That monies should men's daughters marry,

They on frantic war miscarry.

Whilst dear the soldiers they pay,
At last who will snatch all away.
And, as times turn worse and worse,
Catechise us by the purse.

That debts are paid with bold stern looks;
That merchants pray on their 'compt books;
That Justice dumb and sullen frowns,
To see in croslets hang'd her gowns ;
That preachers' ordinary theme
Is 'gainst monarchy to declaim.

That, since leagues we 'gan to swear,
Vice did ne'er so black appear;
Oppression, bloodshed, ne'er more rife,
Foul jars between the man and wife;
Religion so contemn'd was never,

Whilst all are raging in a fever.

They tell by devils, and some sad chance,
That that detestable league of France,
Which cost so many thousand lives,
And two kings, by religious knives,

Is amongst us, though few descry;
Though they speak truth, yet say they lie.

He who says that night is night,
That cripple folk walk not upright,
That the owls into the spring
Do not nightingales out-sing,
That the seas we may not plough,
Ropes make of the rainy bow,
That the foxes keep not sheep,
That men waking do not sleep,

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