







 
   
     
       
         The chimneys scuffle
      
       
         
           1662
        
      
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             The chimneys scuffle
             Brathwaite, Richard, 1588?-1673.
             Butler, Samuel, 1612-1680.
          
           [2], 16 p.
           
             [s.n.],
             London :
             1662.
          
           
             Marginal notes.
             Attributed to Richard Brathwaite and to Samuel Butler. cf. NUC pre-1956 v. 73 p. 33.
             In verse.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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           THE
           CHIMNEYS
           SCUFFLE
           .
        
         
           Publica
           fumantes
           tetigere
           tributa
           Caminos
           ,
           Naribus
           audacis
           fastidiosa
           plebis
           .
        
         
           LONDON
           ,
           Printed
           in
           the
           Year
           1662.
           
        
      
    
     
       
         
         
           
           THE
           CHIMNEYS
           SCUFFLE
           .
        
         
           
             
               This
               is
               no
               Libel
               ,
               such
               as
               Rogues
               disperse
               ,
               But
               a
               poor
               Chimney-Plea
               in
               honest
               Verse
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             DEar
             Mistress
             of
             the
             Muses
             ,
             Polihym●y
             ,
          
           
             Breath
             Spirit
             into
             th'
             Funnel
             of
             my
             Chimney
             ,
          
           
             That
             old
             Mull'd-Sack
             ,
             
             who
             to
             such
             fortunes
             crept
             ;
          
           
             And
             from
             a
             Chimney
             to
             a
             Mannor
             lept
             ,
          
           
             May
             with
             our
             
               Steemy
               Consort
            
             joyn
             in
             One
          
           
             Throbbing
             our
             Suff
             rings
             in
             a
             Sooty
             room
             .
          
           
             But
             whence
             comes
             this
             Complaint
             ?
             Be
             pleas'd
             to
             hear
             ;
          
           
             More
             's
             
               laid
            
             upon
             out
             Hearths
             ,
             than
             they
             can
             Bear.
          
           
             Our
             Chimney-Sweepers
             may
             their
             Hovels
             keep
             ,
          
           
             For
             now
             the
             Owners
             must
             their
             Chimneys
             Sweep
          
           
           
             To
             lessen
             their
             
               Scrude
               Tax
            
             .
             —
             Turn
             o're
             thy
             Book
             ,
          
           
             Search
             thy
             Records
             ,
             *
             
               Cropt
               Prin
            
             ,
             and
             shew
             why
             Smoak
          
           
             Should
             thus
             be
             hoisted
             :
             where
             so
             many
             shar'd
             ,
          
           
             While
             Other
             Smoakers
             in
             our
             State
             be
             spar'd
             !
          
           
             Th'
             like
             
               Smoaking
               Age
            
             did
             never
             yet
             appear
             ,
          
           
             'T
             is
             thought
             we
             shall
             turn
             Aetna
             the
             next
             year
             :
          
           
             We
             're
             all
             in
             Smoak
             and
             Powder
             :
             not
             a
             Stove
          
           
             But
             must
             our
             Synods
             grand
             Designe
             improve
             .
          
           
             Alas
             poor
             Chimney-pipes
             !
             Say
             ,
             why
             should
             you
          
           
             Be
             used
             thus
             ,
             who
             stand
             but
             for
             a
             Show
          
           
             In
             
               Great
               mens
               Kitchins
            
             ;
             while
             your
             Lords
             at
             Court
          
           
             Act
             for
             
               high
               Places
            
             ,
             of
             some
             
               other
               Sport
            
             :
          
           
             Presenting
             there
             their
             Pagentry
             so
             clear
          
           
             As
             if
             they
             meant
             to
             make
             't
             a
             Theater
             .
          
           
             Their
             Tyre-rooms
             are
             alike
             :
             and
             it
             is
             common
             ,
          
           
             
               Women
               act
               there
               with
               men
               ,
               and
               men
               with
               women
               .
            
          
           
             Their
             Tents
             remov'd
             :
             the
             Meniey
             must
             resort
          
           
             By
             their
             Lords
             conduct
             to
             the
             modish
             Court
             ,
          
           
             Where
             his
             disbanded
             ancient
             Family
          
           
             A
             Squirrel
             Lacky
             ,
             or
             py-colour'd
             Page
             ,
          
           
             Becomes
             reduc'd
             to
             one
             bare
             Livery
             ;
          
           
             Which
             may
             secure
             his
             Honour
             from
             much
             wage
             ;
          
           
             His
             Vails
             will
             do
             it
             ,
             or
             a
             cashier'd
             Suit
          
           
             With
             some
             Appendices
             of
             Fancy
             to
             't
             .
          
           
             Batts
             now
             and
             Scrich-Owls
             may
             keep
             open
             house
             ,
          
           
             While
             their
             Lords
             sated
             with
             a
             Court-Carouse
             ,
          
           
             Display
             their
             loose
             debauch'ry
             :
             yet
             must
             they
          
           
             For
             their
             Starv'd
             Smoakless
             Chimneys
             duely
             pay
          
           
             This
             late
             
               enacted
               Tax
            
             :
             O
             precious
             Jewel
          
           
             That
             pays
             the
             State
             for
             Fire-work
             without
             Fuel
             !
          
           
             And
             this
             is
             just
             :
             for
             These
             get
             any
             day
          
           
             More
             by
             one
             Suit
             than
             thousand
             Chimneys
             pay
             .
          
           
             Whereas
             poor
             Tradesmen
             who
             live
             by
             their
             Booth
             ,
          
           
             Earning
             no
             more
             than
             serves
             from
             hand
             to
             mouth
             ,
          
           
             With
             all
             their
             Stock
             can
             scarce
             pay
             Scot
             and
             Lot
             ,
          
           
             Eating
             at
             night
             more
             than
             the
             day
             had
             got
             :
          
           
           
             These
             must
             be
             Smoak'd
             too
             ,
             though
             their
             Chimneys
             speak
          
           
             
               They
               knew
               not
               what
               
                 Fire
                 meant
              
               throughout
               the
               Week
               .
            
          
           
             Is
             this
             a
             
               Parallel
               ,
               line
            
             ,
             or
             
             Solon's
             Law
             ?
          
           
             That
             those
             whose
             Fortunes
             are
             not
             worth
             a
             straw
          
           
             Should
             be
             thus
             pounc'd
             to
             Muminie
             ,
             and
             receive
          
           
             No
             more
             Exemption
             than
             our
             Grandees
             have
             .
          
           
             —
             Caesar
             I
             beg
             a
             boon
             ,
             and
             it
             is
             this
          
           
             That
             I
             may
             plead
             
               in
               Forma
               Pauperis
            
          
           
             For
             these
             
               wcak
               Starvelings
            
             ,
             who
             make
             't
             their
             desire
          
           
             
               That
               their
               Estates
               may
               purchase
               first
               a
               Fire
            
          
           
             
               Ere
               they
               pay
               for
               their
               Chimneys
               ;
               and
               that
               those
            
          
           
             
               Whose
               grandeur
               by
               our
               Suff'rings
               daily
               grows
            
          
           
             
               To
               such
               a
               boundless
               bottome
               ,
               as
               in
               time
            
          
           
             
               Their
               daring
               height
               will
               threaten
               a
               decline
               ,
            
          
           
             
               May
               feel
               Your
               
                 
                   Princely
                
                 Lash
              
               ;
               and
               these
               be
               many
            
          
           
             
               Who
               ought
               well
               to
               be
               smoak'd
               as
               much
               as
               any
               .
            
          
           
             For
             they
             're
             such
             State-Impostons
             ,
             as
             their
             Task
          
           
             Is
             to
             disguise
             their
             actions
             with
             a
             Mask
          
           
             Of
             Partial-guilt
             Conformity
             ;
             and
             such
          
           
             As
             like
             
               base
               
                 Bulloign
              
            
             will
             not
             bide
             the
             touch
             ,
          
           
             Being
             all
             Coat-Cards
             ,
             but
             of
             that
             vicious
             Crue
             ,
          
           
             Their
             Hearts
             are
             false
             for
             all
             their
             modish
             Shew
             .
          
           
             And
             I
             must
             tell
             You
             from
             the
             zeal
             I
             bear
          
           
             Unto
             that
             Sacred
             Diadem
             You
             wear
             ,
          
           
             That
             those
             Court-Burs
             who
             onely
             set
             their
             rast
          
           
             On
             best-betrust
             or
             on
             Self-interest
             ,
          
           
             (
             For
             that
             's
             prime
             Game
             at
             Cards
             they
             daily
             use
          
           
             For
             their
             advantage
             and
             Your
             high
             abuse
             ,
             )
          
           
             Can
             with
             a
             Spanish-Shrug
             complete
             their
             Ends
             ,
          
           
             And
             make
             the
             world
             beleive
             they
             're
             
             Caesar's
             Friends
             ;
          
           
             
               Ingratitude
               concludes
               them
               to
               be
               those
            
          
           
             
               Whom
               You
               reward
               the
               most
               be
               most
               Your
               Foes
               ,
            
          
           
             Be
             not
             these
             
               Courtly
               Cay-ducks
            
             ,
             
             whose
             repute
          
           
             Swoln
             with
             ambition
             of
             a
             gaudy
             Suit
             ,
          
           
             Or
             some
             Outlaudish
             ,
             gimp-thigh'd
             Pantalour
             ,
          
           
             A
             garb
             since
             Adam's
             .
             time
             was
             rarely
             known
             ;
          
           
           
             Strut
             all
             a-long
             to
             win
             the
             eyes
             of
             men
             ,
          
           
             Who
             ,
             if
             discreet
             ,
             with
             Scorn
             dis-value
             them
             ;
          
           
             All
             Sycamours
             for
             Shadow
             ;
             nought
             for
             Fruit
             ,
          
           
             Vers'd
             only
             in
             a
             frivolous
             dispute
          
           
             Or
             loose
             discourse
             of
             Hawk
             ,
             or
             Hound
             ,
             or
             Horse
             ,
          
           
             Or
             in
             pursuit
             of
             H
             ,
             what
             's
             ten
             times
             worse
             .
          
           
             These
             be
             those
             lazy
             fruitlesse
             Droans
             who
             thrive
          
           
             By
             sucking
             Honey
             from
             Your
             Princely
             Hive
             ,
          
           
             What
             they
             ne're
             wrought
             nor
             duly
             labour'd
             for
             ,
          
           
             And
             these
             may
             rest
             securely
             on
             the
             Shore
             ;
          
           
             While
             Your
             
               endeered
               Zelots
            
             who
             have
             lost
          
           
             Their
             Fortunes
             for
             Your
             sake
             are
             hourly
             crost
          
           
             By
             adverse
             Winds
             :
             Long
             have
             these
             Starvelings
             bin
          
           
             Waiting
             at
             th'
             Pool
             in
             hope
             to
             be
             tane
             in
             ,
          
           
             But
             some
             
               desertlesse
               Amorists
            
             of
             Fashion
             ,
          
           
             Though
             really
             the
             Refuse
             of
             our
             Nation
             ,
          
           
             Must
             be
             admitted
             to
             the
             highest
             place
          
           
             Not
             by
             internal
             but
             external
             Grace
             .
          
           
             'T
             is
             only
             Gold-foil
             that
             performs
             the
             work
             ,
          
           
             Heav'ns
             blesse
             our
             Court
             from
             such
             a
             cursed
             Turk
             ,
          
           
             For
             though
             his
             
               partial
               Presence
            
             honour
             win
             ,
          
           
             He
             had
             no
             hand
             in
             bringing's
             Sov'raign
             in
             .
          
           
             Awake
             
               Great
               Prince
            
             ,
             intend
             your
             own
             Affairs
             ,
          
           
             Let
             no
             light
             Dalilah
             rob
             You
             of
             Your
             hairs
             ;
             
          
           
             Those
             
               royal
               nerves
            
             should
             now
             imployed
             be
          
           
             In
             Steering
             th'
             Rudder
             of
             Your
             Monarchie
             ;
          
           
             And
             smoaking
             those
             Ratouns
             who
             make
             't
             their
             aime
          
           
             To
             raise
             their
             Fortunes
             though
             they
             split
             their
             Fame
             ;
          
           
             Nay
             ,
             th'
             honour
             of
             our
             Nation
             ;
             which
             is
             tride
          
           
             Sufficiently
             at
             th'
             Game
             of
             Peep
             and
             Hide
             .
          
           
             Our
             State
             's
             a
             constant
             Mask
             :
             —
             nor
             can
             we
             know
          
           
             Their
             faces
             by
             their
             vizors
             ;
             but
             they
             show
          
           
             Best
             when
             they
             'r
             least
             discover'd
             :
             for
             what
             good
          
           
             Can
             be
             deriv'd
             from
             Those
             corrupt
             their
             blood
             ,
          
           
             And
             mould
             
               base
               Heraldry
            
             ,
             sprinkling
             a
             shame
          
           
             Upon
             th'
             
               degenerate
               House
            
             ,
             from
             whence
             they
             came
             ?
          
           
           
             All
             's
             out
             of
             Order
             ;
             Marriage
             Beds
             begin
          
           
             To
             take
             a
             Surfet
             and
             to
             rellish
             Sin.
          
           
             Stoln
             Waters
             rast
             the
             sweetest
             ;
             
             those
             Fruits
             too
          
           
             Which
             in
             their
             
               proper
               Soil
            
             did
             never
             grow
             ,
          
           
             But
             by
             a
             strange-inoculating
             hand
          
           
             Seizing
             on
             that
             which
             th'
             Owner
             should
             command
             ,
          
           
             Solace
             their
             Palates
             most
             :
             —
             Actors
             o
             th'
             Stage
          
           
             Spouse
             it
             the
             best
             with
             th'
             Peerage
             of
             this
             Age.
          
           
             Yet
             th'
             Spousal
             holds
             not
             :
             a
             dispensive
             Power
          
           
             Has
             made
             his
             Wife
             his
             constant
             Paramour
             :
             
          
           
             And
             yet
             HE
             loves
             HER
             as
             he
             loves
             his
             Life
             ,
          
           
             And
             dearer
             too
             then
             if
             She
             were
             his
             Wife
             .
          
           
             But
             that
             we
             may
             the
             sooner
             make
             an
             end
             ,
          
           
             Let
             us
             unto
             Your
             Offices
             descend
             ,
          
           
             Both
             great
             and
             num'rous
             in
             Your
             peaceful
             State
             ,
          
           
             And
             such
             as
             make
             our
             Officers
             too
             fat
             :
          
           
             So
             swoln
             as
             they
             forget
             what
             they
             have
             bin
             ,
          
           
             With
             those
             brave
             Places
             they
             are
             seated
             in
             .
          
           
             My
             Pen
             ne'r
             brook'd
             the
             Style
             of
             Parasite
             ,
          
           
             The
             World
             shall
             see
             I
             'll
             do
             each
             Office
             right
             .
          
           
             And
             first
             to
             Those
             whom
             we
             account
             the
             prime
             ,
             
          
           
             Those
             Lawn-fleeves
             of
             our
             late
             reformed
             time
             ,
          
           
             Whose
             boundlesse
             height
             such
             Priviledges
             give
          
           
             As
             if
             they
             trench'd
             on
             Your
             Prerogative
             .
          
           
             For
             these
             are
             Smoakers
             too
             ,
             give
             them
             their
             due
             ,
          
           
             When
             we
             our
             
               dormant
               Leases
            
             should
             renew
             ;
          
           
             Which
             might
             have
             been
             prevented
             in
             our
             Land
          
           
             If
             you
             had
             kept
             those
             Leases
             in
             Your
             hand
             .
          
           
             Which
             would
             have
             given
             those
             
               mounting
               Lords
            
             content
             ,
          
           
             And
             rais'd
             fit
             Pentions
             for
             Your
             indigent
          
           
             Deserving
             Friends
             ;
             who
             bravely
             stood
             their
             ground
          
           
             When
             these
             Mandilions
             were
             not
             to
             be
             found
             .
          
           
             Yet
             those
             
               insatiate
               Herds
            
             for
             all
             their
             store
          
           
             Are
             in
             their
             thoughts
             as
             empty
             as
             before
             :
          
           
             Though
             Diocesses
             be
             of
             large
             extent
          
           
             To
             
               thirsty
               Lungs
            
             they
             're
             insufficient
             .
          
           
           
             
             Balaam's
             Priests
             could
             cunningly
             devise
          
           
             How
             to
             convey
             their
             Idol
             Sacrifice
             .
          
           
             
               This
               thirst
               deserves
               rebuke
               in
               Him
               that
               preaches
               ,
            
          
           
             
               Cathedral
               Rabbies
               should
               be
               no
               Horse-leaches
               .
            
          
           
             And
             some
             we
             have
             no
             
               Leprous
               gold
            
             will
             touch
             ,
          
           
             They
             're
             yet
             
               thin
               ●own
            
             ,
             may
             we
             have
             many
             such
             .
          
           
             There
             's
             Smoak
             in
             Law
             too
             ,
             having
             to
             much
             skill
          
           
             As
             to
             drain
             Water
             from
             the
             Clients
             Mill.
          
           
             The
             one
             as
             simple
             as
             the
             other
             wife
             ,
          
           
             
               The
               Lawyer
               g●inds
               and
               takes
               the
               Millers
               grife
               .
            
          
           
             He
             'l
             finger
             your
             pretence
             be
             '
             
               t
            
             right
             or
             wrong
             ,
          
           
             
               Though
               th'
               Cause
               be
               weak
               ,
               fat
               Fees
               will
               make
               it
               strong
               .
            
          
           
             Had
             these
             in
             Xerxes
             or
             Severus
             dayes
          
           
             Sought
             to
             enlarge
             their
             Fame
             ,
             or
             Fortunes
             raise
             ,
          
           
             They
             by
             Imperial
             Sentence
             had
             been
             Smoak'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             
               Gold
            
             molted
             down
             their
             Throat
             been
             Chok'd
             :
          
           
             For
             nought
             in
             reason
             could
             be
             held
             more
             sit
             ,
          
           
             Than
             those
             who
             sold
             base
             Smoak
             to
             fall
             by
             it
             :
          
           
             Shall
             I
             draw
             near
             Your
             Court
             ?
             it
             will
             aver
          
           
             The
             ranting
             Courtier
             Smoaks
             the
             Cavalier
             ;
          
           
             Who
             though
             he
             never
             fought
             not
             ever
             will
             ,
          
           
             He
             can
             prefer
             a
             Suit
             ,
             and
             there
             's
             his
             skilp
             .
          
           
             Yet
             this
             
               Brisk
               Gig
            
             for
             all
             his
             garish
             show
             ,
          
           
             Proves
             Smoaked
             by
             his
             Damasella
             too
             ;
             
          
           
             Who
             near
             the
             Lobby
             or
             the
             Back-Stairs
             waits
          
           
             To
             squeeze
             her
             Pention
             from
             her
             Brothel
             Mates
             :
          
           
             This
             brings
             revenues
             to
             the
             Surgeons
             Hall
             ,
          
           
             But
             Cheats
             and
             Courtly
             Cringes
             pay
             for
             all
             .
          
           
             Those
             in
             our
             State
             he
             only
             held
             for
             Wisemen
          
           
             Who
             are
             design'd
             Commissioners
             and
             Excisemen
             .
          
           
             These
             be
             those
             
               Grand
               Impostors
            
             of
             our
             State
             ,
          
           
             And
             need
             not
             for
             preferment
             long
             to
             wait
             ,
          
           
             For
             they
             've
             already
             feather'd
             well
             their
             Nest
             ,
          
           
             And
             on
             Your
             Subjects
             ruine
             set
             their
             rest
             .
          
           
             These
             to
             improve
             Your
             Rents
             ,
             as
             they
             pretend
             ,
          
           
             Become
             Your
             Farmers
             ,
             but
             observe
             the
             end
          
           
           
             Of
             their
             Imployments
             !
             't
             is
             their
             only
             aim
          
           
             To
             make
             a
             Booty
             of
             their
             Soveraign
             .
          
           
             With
             modest
             boldnesse
             let
             me
             tell
             Your
             Grace
             ,
          
           
             That
             these
             have
             cheated
             You
             before
             Your
             Face
             ,
          
           
             In
             prizing
             th'
             rates
             of
             Customs
             to
             be
             such
             ,
          
           
             When
             th'
             Annual
             profit
             render'd
             thrice
             as
             much
             .
          
           
             Now
             was
             not
             this
             Design
             persued
             well
             ,
          
           
             To
             take
             the
             Kernell
             and
             leave
             You
             the
             Shell
             ?
          
           
             Yet
             these
             be
             Farmers
             still
             :
             Persons
             of
             case
          
           
             Sharing
             in
             Your
             Revennes
             as
             they
             please
             :
          
           
             Made
             to
             Cajole
             the
             State
             ,
             but
             do
             no
             good
          
           
             Unlesse
             it
             be
             to
             suck
             the
             Vital
             blood
          
           
             Of
             Your
             endeered
             Subjects
             ,
             who
             have
             serv'd
          
           
             Both
             You
             and
             Yours
             ;
             and
             better
             far
             deserv'd
          
           
             Than
             these
             Cantarides
             who
             cleave
             to
             th'
             Skin
          
           
             For
             the
             Rivulets
             of
             Blood
             that
             flow
             within
             :
          
           
             But
             when
             their
             yawning
             Chaps
             have
             drunk
             up
             all
             ,
          
           
             High-swoln
             with
             Loyal
             blood
             ,
             they
             're
             forc'd
             to
             fall
             .
          
           
             These
             too
             like
             impudent
             Suiters
             lately
             wooe
          
           
             To
             be
             the
             Farmers
             of
             our
             Chimneys
             too
             :
          
           
             Which
             by
             their
             active
             undermining
             wit
          
           
             They
             first
             contriv'd
             ,
             by
             Votes
             committing
             it
          
           
             To
             a
             
               Self-own'd
               Committee
            
             ,
             whose
             Compact
          
           
             Brought
             this
             Proposol
             to
             an
             expresse
             Act
             :
          
           
             And
             though
             by
             Act
             prohibited
             it
             be
          
           
             
               No
               Member
               share
               in
               that
               Proprience
               ,
            
          
           
             A
             trick
             is
             found
             out
             by
             their
             quick-silver'd
             Brain
             ,
          
           
             
               A
               Dispensation
               for
               a
               future
               gain
               .
            
          
           
             These
             
               raking
               Rocks
            
             when
             they
             're
             on
             profit
             Set
             ;
          
           
             Take
             all
             for
             Fish
             that
             comes
             into
             their
             Net.
          
           
             And
             these
             Grandalions
             of
             Your
             own
             Retenue
          
           
             Who
             would
             be
             thought
             to
             heighten
             Your
             Revenue
             :
          
           
             And
             with
             more
             fullnesse
             of
             Content
             instore
             You
          
           
             Than
             any
             Prince
             that
             ever
             Raign'd
             before
             You
             :
          
           
             Just
             as
             that
             
               Rebel
               Parliament
            
             profess'd
          
           
             To
             Your
             late
             Father
             in
             His
             Suff'rings
             bless'd
             .
          
           
           
             Brave
             Plots
             ;
             rich
             Profers
             !
             which
             like
             Flow'rs
             were
             strew'd
          
           
             Not
             to
             refresh
             the
             Sense
             but
             to
             delude
             .
          
           
             But
             was
             this
             done
             ,
             my
             
               Gracious
               Liege
            
             ,
             for
             You
             ?
          
           
             No
             ,
             though
             at
             first
             sight
             it
             might
             make
             a
             shew
             ,
          
           
             As
             
               Painted
               Projects
            
             use
             ,
             t'
             inhance
             Your
             Ren●s
             ,
          
           
             Their
             Subtile
             Sconces
             moulded
             worse
             intents
          
           
             Than
             pur-blin'd
             Eyes
             discover'd
             ;
             for
             they
             sought
          
           
             Either
             by
             Farming
             what
             their
             Brokage
             wrought
             ,
          
           
             Or
             by
             their
             Agents
             to
             ingratiate
             ▪
          
           
             Your
             Smile
             for
             whom
             they
             did
             negotiate
             .
          
           
             But
             such
             
               base
               baits
            
             You
             cannot
             rellish
             ,
             sure
             ,
          
           
             
               Those
               be
               Your
               Friends
               who
               make
               You
               most
               secure
               :
            
          
           
             Whereas
             Court-Fawns
             ,
             those
             Buffouns
             of
             our
             age
          
           
             Practise
             a-long
             Your
             HONOUR
             to
             ingage
             ;
          
           
             Which
             Princes
             ever
             held
             the
             precioust
             
               Gem
            
          
           
             That
             could
             enrich
             a
             Royal
             Diadem
             .
          
           
             For
             what
             's
             this
             guilded
             State
             but
             painted
             Clay
          
           
             If
             Spotlesse
             Reputation
             fall
             away
             ?
          
           
             May
             that
             live
             still
             unblemish'd
             ,
             and
             remain
          
           
             An
             Individual
             to
             my
             Sov'raign
             ,
          
           
             I
             'm
             bold
             ,
             but
             't
             is
             my
             Zeal
             that
             makes
             me
             so
             ,
          
           
             
               Who
               spares
               to
               speak
               he
               is
               Your
               fawning
               Foe
               .
            
          
           
             Satyrs
             who
             lay
             true
             tincture
             on
             a
             Crime
             ,
          
           
             Deserve
             more
             praise
             then
             Humorists
             o
             th'
             time
             .
          
           
             'T
             is
             Charity
             in
             Him
             that
             shews
             the
             way
             ,
          
           
             Or
             lends
             his
             Light
             to
             One
             who
             goes
             a
             stray
          
           
             
               A
               Subject
               to
               his
               Prince
               is
               such
               a
               Debter
               ,
            
          
           
             
               The
               Plainer
               that
               He
               writes
               ,
               he
               loves
               him
               better
               .
            
          
           
             Into
             Your
             Court
             such
             Favourites
             have
             rush'd
             ,
          
           
             Whose
             Coats
             being
             full
             of
             Moats
             had
             need
             be
             brush'd
             ;
          
           
             'T
             is
             true
             indeed
             we
             have
             Comp●rolors
             plenty
             ,
          
           
             But
             of
             that
             Rank
             there
             is
             not
             one
             of
             twenty
          
           
             Dare
             execute
             that
             Office
             as
             ,
             he
             should
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             would
             He
             ,
             I
             'm
             perswaded
             ,
             if
             he
             could
             .
          
           
             
               The
               Weeds
               of
               others
               cannot
               well
               be
               mown
            
          
           
             
               By
               those
               who
               have
               so
               many
               of
               their
               own
               :
            
          
           
           
             Their
             Studies
             are
             
               Lampounds
            
             ;
             wherein
             their
             aime
             
          
           
             States
             Court-abuses
             to
             the
             
             Penner's
             shame
             ;
          
           
             For
             there
             's
             not
             any
             witty
             Back-stair
             Wench
          
           
             But
             reading
             
               jeers
            
             them
             for
             their
             want
             of
             Sense
             .
          
           
             We
             talk
             of
             a
             strange
             thing
             call'd
             Reformation
             ,
          
           
             But
             where
             's
             that
             Creature
             to
             be
             sound
             i
             th'
             Nation
             !
          
           
             That
             Language
             is
             Utopian
             ,
             none
             of
             ours
             ,
          
           
             And
             has
             been
             long
             time
             since
             shut
             out
             a
             doors
          
           
             As
             a
             regardlesse
             Alien
             :
             —
             Let
             us
             can
          
           
             And
             take
             our
             Circuit
             from
             man
             to
             man.
          
           
             Phanatick
             ,
             Libertine
             and
             Leveller
             ,
          
           
             Our
             rigid
             Presbyterian
             ,
             who
             to
             err
          
           
             Were
             held
             a
             Prodigy
             :
             let
             's
             see
             what
             peace
          
           
             Or
             
               Reformation
            
             any
             one
             of
             these
          
           
             Can
             
               hold
               forth
               to
               us
            
             !
             —
             but
             the
             other
             day
          
           
             
               Iohn
               Presbyter
            
             was
             to
             be
             pack'd
             away
          
           
             With
             his
             
               Sedicious
               Spawn
            
             :
             but
             are
             they
             gone
          
           
             As
             't
             was
             injoyn'd
             them
             ,
             
               forty
               Miles
            
             from
             Town
             ?
          
           
             No
             ,
             no
             ,
             believe
             it
             this
             was
             a
             
               brute
               Thunder
            
             ,
          
           
             Their
             
               swelling
               Spirits
            
             are
             not
             so
             kept
             under
             ;
             
          
           
             For
             they
             're
             repriv'd
             ,
             their
             Censure
             now
             blown
             o're
          
           
             And
             re-estated
             where
             they
             were
             before
             :
          
           
             And
             now
             restor'd
             ,
             they
             vapour
             it
             afresh
          
           
             As
             none
             might
             touch
             their
             Sanctified
             Hesh
             .
          
           
             Those
             who
             supply
             their
             Places
             few
             draw
             near
             them
             ,
          
           
             And
             though
             they
             preach
             
               pure
               Doctrine
            
             none
             wil
             hear
             them
             .
          
           
             Is
             this
             the
             way
             to
             Reformations
             ,
             say
             ,
          
           
             When
             
               Shepherds
            
             who
             have
             taught
             their
             Flocks
             to
             stray
          
           
             Must
             be
             indulg'd
             ;
             and
             though
             they
             bring
             forth
             Leaves
          
           
             But
             no
             
               Soul-saving
               fruit
            
             ,
             yet
             must
             Lawn-●eeves
          
           
             Though
             ne'r
             so
             Orthodoxal
             ;
             be
             content
          
           
             With
             a
             
               fraterual
               shrug
            
             to
             give
             consent
          
           
             To
             these
             Church-Cattines
             ,
             whose
             active
             pate
          
           
             Works
             to
             reduce
             us
             to
             that
             forlorn
             State
          
           
             Which
             our
             
               Anarchiall
               Government
            
             retain'd
          
           
             While
             th'
             
               Syracusan
               Tyrant
            
             
               o're
            
             us
             raign'd
             ?
          
           
           
             Nor
             can
             I
             blame
             those
             Magpies
             if
             they
             give
          
           
             Such
             freedome
             to
             these
             Zimreys
             to
             live
             ;
          
           
             High
             forts
             support
             the
             Lower
             :
             those
             who
             ne'r
             were
          
           
             Friends
             to
             
               Church
               discipline
            
             nor
             the
             
               Lords
               Prayer
            
          
           
             Be
             their
             GOOD
             LORDS
             :
             and
             These
             in
             such
             high
             Grace
          
           
             As
             they
             'l
             cast
             dirt
             in
             any
             Bishops
             face
             ;
          
           
             So
             bravely
             rais'd
             they
             are
             ,
             to
             Courtly
             strong
          
           
             
             As
             they
             will
             do
             no
             right
             nor
             suffer
             wrong
             :
          
           
             Nor
             is
             it
             strange
             that
             they
             their
             Faith
             dis-own
          
           
             Who
             made
             their
             Breach
             of
             Faith
             before
             with
             Crown
             .
          
           
             Grave
             
               Presbyterian
               Patrons
            
             ,
             
             who
             display
          
           
             Their
             Zeal
             by
             throwing
             
               Common
               Pray'r
            
             away
          
           
             Doom'd
             to
             a
             
               dif●rent
               Martyrdome
            
             ,
             as
             of
             late
          
           
             Was
             done
             in
             flat
             defiance
             to
             the
             State
          
           
             And
             th'
             
               High
               Prerogative
            
             sole
             due
             to
             You
             ,
          
           
             As
             if
             we
             had
             no
             Native
             Caesar
             now
             :
          
           
             If
             this
             succeed
             ,
             as
             't
             his
             a
             fearful
             Shew
             ,
          
           
             A
             tragick
             Epilogue
             must
             needs
             ensue
             .
          
           
             We
             hear
             of
             Coiners
             too
             ,
             but
             they
             're
             so
             Greai
          
           
             As
             they
             may
             safely
             play
             the
             Counterfeit
             :
          
           
             Men
             of
             meb
             high
             descent
             and
             brave
             desert
          
           
             Scorn
             to
             receive
             their
             Convoy
             from
             a
             Cart.
             
          
           
             
               The
               Sun
               has
               many
               Moats
               ,
               yet
               who
               'l
               assay
            
          
           
             
               To
               take
               those
               
                 radiant
                 blemishes
              
               away
               ?
            
          
           
             They
             're
             
               glorious
               Soils
            
             :
             and
             Those
             are
             daring
             Fools
          
           
             Who
             call
             in
             question
             either
             Art
             or
             Tools
             .
          
           
             
               I
               much
               commend
               those
               Coiners
               pollicy
            
          
           
             
               Who
               stand
               secur'd
               by
               their
               Society
               :
            
          
           
             For
             they
             on
             such
             
               dependent
               Statists
            
             hing
             ,
          
           
             They
             're
             priviledg'd
             from
             Cap'ring
             in
             a
             string
             .
          
           
             But
             to
             our
             Chimney-work
             !
             —
             This
             Enterview
          
           
             
               Must
               Catechise
               us
               —
               Sir
               ,
               what
               Chimneys
               you
               ;
            
          
           
             
               What
               
                 Hearths
                 ,
                 Stoves
                 ,
                 Ovens
              
               ?
               render
               us
               account
               ,
            
          
           
             
               For
               we
               're
               Contractors
               .
               and
               must
               stand
               upon
               't
               :
            
          
           
             
               Do
               not
               deceive
               your self
               ,
               return
               your
               number
               ,
            
          
           
             
               For
               you
               're
               to
               suffer
               if
               you
               render
               under
               .
            
          
           
           
             
               The
               Lash
               o
               th'
               Act
               shall
               swinge
               you
               with
               such
               Strokes
            
          
           
             
               As
               never
               shall
               be
               cur'd
               by
               
                 Iohn
                 an
                 Oakes
              
            
          
           
             
               Nor
               those
               grave
               Coif-men
               ,
               who
               for
               
                 either
                 side
              
            
          
           
             
               In
               our
               
                 late
                 Bickerings
              
               have
               their
               Judgements
               tried
               :
            
          
           
             
               And
               as
               they
               well
               delerv'd
               ,
               now
               high
               advanc'd
               ,
            
          
           
             
               So
               well
               it
               has
               unto
               those
               Neuters
               chanc'd
               ;
            
          
           
             
               Who
               with
               such
               solemn
               Ceremonial
               State
            
          
           
             
               In
               funeral
               Robes
               on
               
               Bradshaw's
               Corps
               did
               wait
               :
            
          
           
             
               And
               as
               they
               drol'd
               in
               mournful
               Habits
               thither
               ,
            
          
           
             
               It
               had
               been
               well
               they
               had
               been
               Earth'd
               together
               .
            
          
           
             
               Small
               Coal
               ,
               Small
               Coal
            
             .
             —
             Still
             ,
             still
             that
             Croaking
             Cry
             ;
          
           
             I
             've
             stopp'd
             up
             all
             my
             Hearths
             ;
             no
             Coals
             will
             I.
          
           
             I
             will
             not
             
             Salamander-like
             desire
          
           
             To
             make
             mine
             Habitation
             in
             the
             Fire
             :
          
           
             These
             age-benummed
             Joynts
             I
             'll
             never
             warm
          
           
             E're
             I
             pay
             more
             for
             Chimneys
             then
             my
             Farm.
          
           
             Though
             hoary
             Winter
             now
             draw
             near
             at
             hand
          
           
             I
             'll
             shew
             such
             due
             obedience
             to
             Command
             ;
          
           
             With
             Damocles
             I
             'd
             rather
             chuse
             to
             starve
          
           
             Than
             lessen
             his
             Revenues
             whom
             I
             serve
             ;
             
          
           
             Yet
             let
             the
             State
             excuse
             me
             ,
             for
             
               Blind
               Hugh
            
          
           
             My
             Mason
             clos'd
             my
             Hearth
             before
             I
             knew
             .
          
           
             Maduesse
             hath
             made
             me
             senselesse
             of
             all
             shame
             ,
          
           
             Within
             this
             Fortnight
             I
             from
             Ped'am
             came
             ;
          
           
             Where
             I
             my
             Crack-brain'd
             Amours
             did
             express
          
           
             As
             Woers
             should
             ;
             Tom
             to
             his
             lucky
             Bese
             .
          
           
             And
             this
             contents
             me
             ,
             though
             
               mad
               Boyes
            
             we
             be
             ,
          
           
             I
             've
             found
             a
             Court
             grown
             madder
             far
             than
             we
             .
          
           
             My
             Brain
             is
             madling
             ;
             I
             am
             now
             for
             Court
          
           
             For
             no
             Suit-quest
             ,
             I
             am
             not
             monied
             for
             't
             ;
          
           
             But
             to
             observe
             their
             posture
             ;
             for
             we
             hear
          
           
             What
             strange-divining
             Meteors
             rusle
             there
             .
          
           
             State-Criticks
             now
             our
             
               Sprucer
               Sprigs
            
             be
             grown
             ,
          
           
             Ready
             to
             brush
             all
             garments
             but
             their
             own
             ;
          
           
             Those
             must
             be
             lightly
             touch'd
             ,
             for
             they
             alledge
          
           
             Their
             Acts
             pretend
             a
             Native
             priviledge
             :
          
           
           
             Sphear'd
             above
             Censure
             is
             their
             Regiment
             ,
             
          
           
             Apish
             or
             modish
             it
             is
             sufficient
          
           
             So
             it
             be
             forraign
             ,
             be
             it
             ne're
             so
             gay
          
           
             Nor
             garish-gaudy
             ,
             〈…〉
             will
             find
             a
             way
          
           
             To
             gain
             admirers
             :
             and
             with
             speed
             prepare
          
           
             New
             Fashion-Mongers
             for
             a
             stranger
             aire
             :
          
           
             Our
             
               Countrey
               Artists
            
             be
             such
             homely
             Creatures
          
           
             As
             they
             mis-shape
             the
             Beauty
             of
             their
             features
             .
          
           
             So
             it
             bear
             th'
             Title
             of
             Outlandish
             work
             ,
          
           
             'T
             will
             give
             content
             though
             moulded
             by
             a
             Turk
             .
          
           
             There
             's
             nought
             exact
             done
             by
             an
             English
             hand
             ,
          
           
             
             No
             dresse
             complete
             but
             from
             an
             other
             Land.
             
          
           
             So
             is
             the
             World
             might
             think
             we
             stare
             a
             quarrel
          
           
             Both
             with
             our
             plunder'd
             Language
             and
             Apparrel
             .
          
           
             Thus
             begger
             we
             our
             own
             ;
             not
             care
             we
             much
          
           
             So
             we
             content
             our Selves
             ▪
             our
             humour's
             such
             .
          
           
             Here
             may
             you
             see
             a
             light
             py●
             colour'd
             Jack
             .
          
           
             Wear
             a
             whole
             Lordship
             on
             his
             crazy
             back
             ;
          
           
             Which
             his
             extorting
             Ancestor
             convey'd
          
           
             To
             Him
             ,
             who
             for
             his
             death
             
               entirely
            
             pray'd
          
           
             That
             he
             might
             Pawn
             his
             Aores
             ;
             and
             ingage
             .
          
           
             His
             State
             to
             dawb
             his
             Lackey
             and
             his
             Page
             :
             
          
           
             Resembsing
             those
             to
             life
             who
             nostle
             here
          
           
             Learning
             first
             to
             get
             Clothes
             ,
             then
             how
             to
             wear
             ,
          
           
             (
             To
             th'
             Mercers
             Ruine
             )
             though
             a
             Venial
             Sin
          
           
             To
             cheat
             a
             Book
             who
             meant
             to
             Cozen
             Him.
          
           
             Turn
             over
             Leaf
             by
             Loaf
             i
             th'
             Drapers
             Book
             ,
          
           
             You
             'l
             find
             his
             
               long
               own
               Scores
            
             as
             light
             as
             Smoak
             .
          
           
             Yet
             is
             he
             out
             of
             Debt
             I
             dare
             well
             say
             ,
          
           
             For
             He
             is
             said
             to
             own
             who
             means
             to
             pay
             .
          
           
             But
             being
             at
             
               last
               stake
            
             what
             shall
             he
             do
             ?
          
           
             He
             has
             no
             Brains
             i
             th'
             World
             to
             five
             unto
             :
          
           
             The
             only
             way
             then
             to
             evade
             this
             Shelf
          
           
             Is
             to
             serve
             one
             no
             wiser
             than
             himself
             ,
          
           
             Some
             
               Laptand
               Lord
            
             ,
             who
             having
             got
             no
             Heirs
             ,
          
           
             Makes
             his
             thoughts
             Strangers
             to
             all
             thriving
             Cares
             .
          
           
           
             Now
             what
             Supplies
             accommodate
             the
             youth
          
           
             Of
             these
             
               profusive
               Sparks
            
             ,
             whose
             Fruitlesse
             growth
          
           
             Has
             spent
             it self
             to
             atoms
             ?
             They
             must
             look
          
           
             To
             be
             Collectors
             of
             our
             Chimney
             Smoak
             ,
             
          
           
             And
             by
             their
             mis-accounting
             profit
             bring
          
           
             Gain
             to
             themselves
             in
             Cheating
             of
             the
             King.
          
           
             A
             bold
             adventure
             ,
             yet
             an
             usual
             guize
          
           
             As
             may
             appear
             by
             Farmers
             o
             th'
             Excize
             ;
          
           
             Which
             in
             one
             Instance
             I
             shall
             clearly
             shew
             ,
          
           
             Though
             not
             recorded
             yet
             approved
             true
             :
          
           
             Th'
             Event
             so
             just
             it
             highly
             pleased
             me
          
           
             Not
             in
             the
             Act
             but
             the
             Catastrophe
             .
          
           
             
               A
               Stirring
               Member
               of
               the
               Parliament
            
          
           
             
               Stor'd
               richly
               with
               all
               Blessings
               save
               Content
               ,
            
          
           
             
               Became
               Excifeman
               ;
               but
               before
               he
               found
            
          
           
             
               The
               Profit
               on
               't
               ,
               his
               Patent
               fell
               to
               ground
               .
            
          
           
             
               I
               wish
               all
               Patentees
               may
               have
               sike
               hap
               ,
            
          
           
             
               Who
               draine
               Revenues
               from
               the
               Ale-wifes
               Tap.
               
            
          
           
             
               O
               brave
               Design
               !
               Struck
               on
               a
               fatal
               Shelf
               ,
            
          
           
             
               By
               his
               
                 own
                 Vote
              
               th'
               Exciseman
               splits
               himself
            
          
           
             
               But
               how
               has
               this
               Exciseman
               born
               himself
               !
            
          
           
             
               How
               has
               this
               
                 timing
                 Bird
              
               beray'd
               his
               Nest
               !
            
          
           
             
               How
               has
               he
               run
               his
               Pinnace
               on
               a
               Shelf
               !
            
          
           
             
               How
               has
               he
               ruin'd
               those
               deserved
               best
               !
            
          
           
             
               Split
               th'
               Cavalry
               of
               their
               just
               interest
               !
            
          
           
             
               Was
               not
               this
               Act
               a
               Crime
               beyond
               compare
            
          
           
             
               I
               will
               not
               judge
               ,
               but
               leave
               it
               to
               the
               Chaire
               !
            
          
           
             
               But
               these
               ambitious
               thoughts
               we
               have
               at
               Court
            
          
           
             
               Make
               hopes
               of
               Honour
               ramble
               in
               this
               sort
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             THESE
             from
             their
             Countrey
             have
             such
             glory
             gain'd
          
           
             By
             
               ringing
               backward
            
             they
             are
             entertain'd
             .
             
          
           
             This
             is
             my
             Maxim
             :
             they
             're
             not
             
             Caesar's
             friends
          
           
             Who
             mould
             their
             Votes
             and
             Acts
             for
             private
             Ends.
          
           
             All
             such
             as
             lov'd
             their
             Prince
             have
             under
             〈…〉
             ood
          
           
             That
             they
             did
             neither
             King
             nor
             Subject
             good
             .
          
           
           
             
               Those
               to
               their
               Soveraign
               ever
               prove
               unjust
            
          
           
             
               Who
               'twixt
               Him
               and
               his
               People
               breed
               distrust
               .
            
          
           
             And
             such
             ,
             my
             Liege
             ,
             or
             else
             we
             hear
             a
             Fable
             ,
          
           
             Receive
             admittance
             daily
             to
             Your
             Table
             ,
          
           
             Who
             to
             inlarge
             the
             Bounds
             of
             their
             Estate
          
           
             Will
             
               hackney
               Honour
            
             out
             at
             any
             rate
             .
          
           
             These
             be
             Court-Butterflies
             ,
             who
             make
             a
             Show
          
           
             Just
             as
             our
             
               Lordships
               Chimneys
            
             use
             to
             do
          
           
             In
             cheating
             Beggars
             ,
             making
             their
             repaire
          
           
             But
             find
             no
             Warmth
             nor
             Crum
             of
             Comfort
             there
             .
          
           
             
             Discretion
             will
             not
             measure
             true
             desert
          
           
             By
             Apish
             postures
             or
             Outlandish
             Art.
          
           
             He
             only
             merits
             the
             esteem
             of
             Greaetnesse
          
           
             Who
             Suits
             his
             dresse
             without
             
               affected
               neatnesse
            
             .
          
           
             Your
             Highness
             sways
             three
             Scepters
             independing
          
           
             From
             Elders
             numberless
             by
             line
             descending
             ;
          
           
             Let
             no
             Act
             derogate
             from
             that
             descent
          
           
             Through
             hostile
             force
             or
             Subjects
             discontent
             .
          
           
             Clear
             that
             
               Augean
               Stable
            
             ;
             Let
             no
             stain
          
           
             Darken
             the
             Splendor
             of
             our
             Charlemain
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             his
             Court-gate
             :
             May
             th'
             Ladies
             of
             this
             time
          
           
             Be
             Aemulators
             of
             our
             Katharine
          
           
             Late
             come
             ,
             long
             wish'd
             :
             whose
             Princely
             same
             shall
             be
          
           
             A
             living
             Annal
             to
             Posteritie
             .
          
           
             To
             whose
             pure
             judgement
             ,
             
             then
             which
             none
             more
             strong
          
           
             Being
             Stranger
             to
             the
             World
             and
             so
             Young
          
           
             Nought
             can
             detract
             more
             from
             a
             knowing
             Nation
          
           
             Then
             making
             a
             meer
             Idol
             of
             a
             Fashion
             ;
          
           
             Or
             in
             resemblance
             unto
             *
             
               Isis
               Asse
            
          
           
             To
             sacrifice
             the
             Morning
             to
             their
             Glasse
             :
          
           
             Such
             atoms
             of
             
               lost
               honour
            
             SHE
             esteems
          
           
             For
             wandring
             Fancies
             or
             Phanatick
             Dreams
             :
          
           
             
               This
               
                 Royal
                 Pattern
              
               may
               ,
               no
               doubt
               ,
               re-gain
            
          
           
             
             Our
             Albyon
             Halcyon
             days
             and
             Saturns
             -
             Raign
             .
          
           
             The
             World's
             new-moulded
             :
             —
             SHE
             who
             t'other
             day
          
           
             Could
             Chant
             and
             Chirp
             like
             any
             Bird
             in
             May
          
           
           
             Stor'd
             with
             Caresses
             of
             the
             Choicest
             lort
          
           
             That
             Art
             could
             purchase
             from
             a
             Forreign
             Court
             ,
          
           
             Limn'd
             so
             by
             Natures
             Pencil
             ,
             as
             no
             part
          
           
             But
             gave
             a
             wound
             ,
             where
             e'r
             it
             found
             an
             heart
             .
          
           
             
               A
               Fortresse
               and
               Main-Castle
               of
               Defence
            
          
           
             
               Secur'd
               from
               all
               Assailants
               saving
               Sence
               .
            
          
           
             —
             But
             SHE
             's
             a
             Convert
             and
             a
             Mirrour
             now
          
           
             Both
             in
             her
             Carriage
             and
             Profession
             too
             ;
          
           
             Divorc'd
             from
             strange
             
               Embraces
            
             :
             as
             my
             Pen
          
           
             May
             justly
             style
             Her
             
               Englands
               Magdalen
            
             .
          
           
             Wherein
             She
             's
             to
             be
             held
             of
             more
             esteem
          
           
             In
             being
             fam'd
             a
             Convert
             of
             the
             Queen
             .
          
           
             And
             from
             relapse
             that
             She
             secur'd
             might
             be
             ,
          
           
             SHE
             wisely
             daigns
             to
             keep
             her
             Companie
             ▪
          
           
             But
             forasmuch
             as
             
               noisome
               weeds
            
             are
             found
          
           
             In
             no
             Soil
             more
             than
             in
             our
             
               Holy
               Ground
            
             ;
          
           
             And
             Darknesse
             sometimes
             takes
             the
             Robe
             of
             Light
             ,
          
           
             So
             as
             all
             is
             not
             clear
             that
             seemeth
             white
             ;
          
           
             Admonish
             those
             
               Lawn
               Sleeves
            
             they
             grow
             not
             proud
          
           
             But
             seasonably
             communicate
             pure
             food
          
           
             To
             their
             
               deputed
               Flock
            
             :
             Your
             Grace
             has
             carv'd
          
           
             Large
             parts
             for
             them
             ,
             let
             not
             their
             Sheep
             be
             starv'd
          
           
             For
             want
             of
             
               nour
               shment
            
             :
             I
             'd
             have
             them
             too
          
           
             Not
             only
             stand
             like
             Beacons
             for
             a
             show
             ;
          
           
             Their
             Church-revenues
             as
             they
             be
             not
             small
             ,
          
           
             'T
             were
             fit
             for
             th'
             Poor
             they
             built
             an
             Hospitall
             ;
             
          
           
             Which
             Almes-work
             so
             long
             as
             they
             delay
             ,
             
          
           
             Let
             their
             Revenues
             for
             our
             Chimneys
             pay
             .
          
           
             At
             least
             ,
             for
             Tenths
             as
             they
             precisely
             stand
          
           
             For
             each
             
               tenth
               Chimney
            
             let
             them
             pay
             through
             th'
             Land
          
           
             Their
             Leases
             to
             that
             vast
             advantage
             rise
          
           
             They
             may
             increase
             their
             Pride
             and
             Avarice
             .
          
           
             The
             Poor
             should
             be
             their
             Children
             during
             life
             ,
          
           
             A
             
               Diocesan
               Care
            
             their
             
               Married
               Wife
            
             .
          
           
             This
             would
             imbellish
             Miters
             and
             inlarge
          
           
             Their
             
               Past●ral
               pains
            
             to
             edifie
             their
             Charge
             .
          
           
           
             For
             th'
             Presbyter
             ,
             because
             there
             cannot
             be
          
           
             An
             
               Unity
               'twixt
               Him
            
             and
             Monarchie
             ,
          
           
             For
             if
             th'
             Oue
             rise
             ,
             the
             Other
             needs
             must
             fall
             ,
          
           
             Left
             of
             those
             Sectists
             be
             there
             none
             at
             all
             ,
             
          
           
             Silence
             is
             not
             Sufficient
             :
             Such
             Division
          
           
             Requires
             strict
             Exile
             for
             the
             best
             
               Physician
            
             .
          
           
             Their
             Plots
             are
             all
             
               Phlebotomy
               ,
               but
               Yours
            
          
           
             By
             mild
             indulgence
             tender
             easier
             Cures
             .
          
           
             No
             more
             ;
             vouchsafe
             upon
             our
             Suit
             to
             look
             ,
          
           
             Our
             Hearths
             want
             Fires
             ;
             and
             where
             's
             no
             Fire
             ,
             no
             Smoak
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             COURT-CURRIER
             .
          
           
             OUr
             Country
             was
             of
             late
             with
             blood
             imbrew'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             this
             Age
             as
             viciously
             indew'd
             ,
          
           
             Impoison'd
             with
             base
             Ingratitude
             ,
          
           
             Where
             th'
             Hydra-headed
             Slavish
             Multitude
          
           
             Admires
             those
             only
             who
             have
             so
             much
             Sence
             ,
          
           
             As
             beg
             a
             Place
             with
             srontlesse
             impudence
             :
          
           
             And
             by
             their
             
               activ'st
               Pavourite
            
             ,
             ready
             pence
             ,
          
           
             And
             without
             merit
             seels
             for
             recompence
             .
          
           
             These
             be
             the
             
               th●iving
               Boyes
            
             ,
             who
             at
             this
             day
          
           
             Are
             tane
             into
             the
             
               P
               〈…〉
            
             while
             others
             stay
             .
          
        
         
           
             The
             Honest
             CAVALIER
             .
          
           
             MAny
             have
             here
             high
             hopes
             ,
             
             but
             they
             expire
          
           
             Before
             they
             mount
             to
             th'
             height
             of
             their
             desire
             .
          
           
             They
             're
             only
             wise
             that
             have
             the
             least
             to
             do
          
           
             Fixing
             on
             Flim
             from
             whom
             all
             Graces
             slow
             .
          
           
             Nothing
             so
             sirm
             that
             may
             Affiance
             give
             .
          
           
             
               Let
               us
               only
               love
               where
               we
               may
               ever
               live
               .
            
          
           
             So
             shall
             our
             hopes
             be
             crown'd
             ,
             and
             Saints
             receive
             us
          
           
             Into
             those
             Courtly
             joyes
             shall
             *
             never
             leaves
             us
             .
          
           
             Some
             find
             the
             way
             who
             after
             learn
             to
             stray
             .
          
           
             The
             End
             tries
             all
             ,
             the
             Evening
             Crowns
             the
             Day
             .
          
           
             FINIS
             .
          
        
      
    
     
       
         Notes, typically marginal, from the original text
         
           Notes for div A29226-e70
           
             Who
             chang'd
             his
             Name
             for
             a
             Sum
             of
             money
             conditionally
             paid
             him
             by
             his
             Fellow
             Chimney-Sweepers
             .
          
           
             *
             Late'y
             createa
             Keeper
             of
             the
             Fower-Records
             ;
             but
             his
             Fanatick
             Brain
             and
             Fantastick
             Pea
             have
             run
             such
             Division
             ,
             as
             they
             will
             unstrip
             him
             of
             that
             Imployment
             .
          
           
             A
             Fashion
             to
             our
             Nation
             unknown
             though
             now
             disp●●s'd
             through
             City
             ,
             Country
             ,
             Town
             .
          
           
             Sampsonis
             Capilli
             sunt
             Principis
             nervi
             ;
             qui
             Pascivis
             amplexibus
             ,
             impudicis
             amoribus
             debilitari
             solent
             ,
             si
             non
             dirimi
             .
             Proc.
          
           
             Neither
             Fruits
             of
             their
             owne
             planting
             ,
             nor
             Waters
             of
             their
             own
             draining
             ,
             nor
             Soil
             of
             their
             own
             improving
             .
          
           
             Fortis
             amatorls
             fit
             Palma
             ,
             Corone
             labotis
             ,
             Quo
             Sponsus
             thalamum
             
               Servat
            
             honore
             Suum
             .
             Mancin
             .
          
           
             Pastoral
             Office
             in
             the
             first
             place
             ,
             because
             the
             highest
             prize
             :
             and
             purchas'd
             by
             Renewal
             of
             Leases
             at
             the
             lowest
             price
             .
          
           
             In
             they
             Court
             of
             B
             〈…〉
             s
             (
             as
             the
             Apologua
             observes
             the
             Elephaunt
             would
             not
             be
             admitted
             ,
             because
             his
             knees
             were
             so
             unweldy
             ,
             they
             would
             not
             bend
             ,
          
           
             ☜
             
          
           
             Whose
             Arguments
             ,
             though
             strongly
             seconded
             ,
             in
             a
             late
             debate
             were
             evinced
             ,
             and
             those
             
               Fiery
               S●par
               〈…〉
               t
               s
            
             deservingly
             silenced
             .
             Mean
             while
             their
             Conventicles
             and
             Clandestine
             
               Assemblies
            
             by
             their
             own
             ●riviledge
             frequently
             continued
             .
          
           
             ☞
             
          
           
             Witnesse
             those
             Hubbuls
             raised
             in
             several
             Parochial
             Churches
             .
          
           
             ☜
             
          
           
             An
             Apish-modish
             vosture
             the
             only
             sweet
             Courtly
             garb
             .
          
           
             ☞
             
          
           
             A
             gallant
             Retinue
             ,
             to
             travel
             out
             the
             fagend
             of
             a
             Prodigals
             Fortune
             .
          
           
             A
             Cool
             Coal-Cordial
             for
             a
             Consumptive
             Prodigal
             .
          
           
             Hear
             this
             
               Countrey
               Peal
            
             ,
             ye
             Kni●h●s
             o
             th'
             Shire
             and
             Burgesses
             .
          
           
             ☞
             
          
           
             A
             Princesse
             in
             Habit
             &
             Diet
             unexemplarily
             temperate
             .
          
           
             *
             —
             Speculum
             sibi
             fingit
             Asellus
             Flumine
             ,
             quo
             speciem
             complicet
             ille
             suam
             .
             Farn.
          
           
             ☞
             
          
           
             ☜
             
          
           
             We
             leave
             the
             injurious
             Usage
             of
             one
             of
             these
             (
             a
             
               Formal
               Fox
            
             ,
             and
             advanc'd
             to
             oue
             of
             our
             highest
             Places
             )
             to
             the
             ingeuuous
             Relation
             of
             Mr.
             Cressey
             ,
             a
             modest
             deserving
             Gentleman
             .
          
           
             Such
             Phlebotomists
             as
             practise
             wholly
             upon
             the
             
               Basi●ica
               Ven●
            
             for
             a
             State-Cure
             are
             dangerous
             Artists
             :
             and
             fitter
             far
             for
             Jamaica
             than
             us
             .
          
           
             Distinguish
             these
             by
             their
             Cignizances
             .
          
           
             *
             〈◊〉
             deceive
             〈◊〉
             
          
        
      
    
  

