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         Wild, Robert, 1609-1679.
      
       
         
           1672
        
      
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         Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.2[81]
         Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.4[241]
         99884037
         ocm99884037
         182910
         
           
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             Dr Wild's humble thanks for His Majesties gracious declaration for liberty of conscience, March 15. 1672.
             Wild, Robert, 1609-1679.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.).
           
             [s.n.],
             London :
             printed in the year, 1672.
          
           
             Signed: Iter Boreale [i.e. Robert Wild].
             Verse: "No, not one word, can I of this great deed ..."
             With reference to Charles II's declaration of 15 March 1672.
             Item at A4:2[242] imperfect: torn at foot with loss of imprint.
             Reproduction of original in the British Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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           England and Wales. -- Sovereign (1660-1685 : Charles II) -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800.
           Dissenters, Religious -- England -- Early works to 1800.
           Great Britain -- Politics and government -- 1660-1688 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800.
           Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800.
        
      
    
     
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           D
           r
           WILD's
           Humble
           Thanks
           For
           His
           MAJESTIES
           Gracious
           DECLARATION
           for
           Liberty
           of
           Conscience
           ,
           March
           15.
           1672.
           
        
         
           
             No
             ,
             not
             one
             word
             ,
             can
             I
             of
             this
             Great
             Deed
             ,
          
           
             In
             Merlin
             ,
             Old
             Mother
             Shipton
             read
             !
          
           
             Old
             Tyburn
             take
             those
             Tychobrahe
             Imps
             ,
          
           
             As
             Silger
             ,
             who
             would
             be
             accounted
             Pimps
          
           
             To
             the
             Amorous
             Planets
             ;
             they
             the
             Minute
             know
             ,
          
           
             When
             Jove
             did
             Cuckold
             old
             Amphitryo
             ,
          
           
             ●en
             Mars
             and
             made
             Venus
             wink
             and
             glances
             ,
          
           
             Their
             close
             Conjunctions
             ,
             and
             mid-night
             Dances
             .
          
           
             When
             costive
             Saturn
             goes
             to
             stool
             ,
             and
             vile
          
           
             Thief
             Mercury
             doth
             pick
             his
             Fob
             the
             while
             :
          
           
             When
             Lady
             Luna
             leaks
             ,
             and
             makes
             her
             man
          
           
             Throw
             't
             out
             of
             Window
             into
             th'
             Ocean
             .
          
           
             More
             subtle
             than
             the
             Excise-men
             here
             below
             ,
          
           
             What
             's
             spent
             in
             every
             Sign
             in
             Heaven
             they
             know
             ;
          
           
             Cunning
             Intelligencers
             ,
             they
             will
             not
             miss
          
           
             To
             tell
             us
             next
             year
             ,
             the
             success
             of
             this
             ;
          
           
             They
             correspond
             with
             Dutch
             and
             English
             Star
             ,
          
           
             As
             one
             once
             did
             with
             CHARLES
             and
             Oliver
             .
          
           
             The
             Bankers
             also
             might
             have
             ,
             had
             they
             gone
             ,
          
           
             What
             Planet
             governe'd
             the
             Exchequer
             ,
             known
             .
          
           
             Old
             Lilly
             ,
             though
             he
             did
             not
             love
             to
             make
          
           
             Any
             words
             o●'t
             saw
             the
             English
             take
             ,
          
           
             Five
             of
             the
             Smyrna
             Fleet
             ,
             and
             if
             the
             Sign
          
           
             Had
             been
             Aquarius
             ,
             then
             they
             'd
             made
             them
             Nine
          
           
             When
             Sagitarius
             took
             his
             aim
             to
             shoot
          
           
             At
             Bishop
             Cosin
             ,
             he
             spyed
             him
             no
             doubt
             ;
          
           
             And
             with
             such
             force
             the
             winged
             Arrow
             flew
             ;
          
           
             Instead
             of
             one
             Church
             Stagg
             he
             killed
             two
             ;
          
           
             Glocester
             and
             Durbam
             when
             he
             espy'd
             ,
          
           
             Let
             Lean
             and
             Fat
             go
             together
             he
             cry'd
             .
          
           
             Well
             
               Wille
               Lilly
            
             thou
             knew'st
             all
             this
             as
             well
          
           
             As
             I
             ,
             and
             yet
             wouldst
             not
             their
             Lordships
             tell
             .
          
           
             I
             know
             thy
             Plea
             too
             ,
             and
             must
             it
             allow
             ,
          
           
             PRELATES
             should
             know
             as
             much
             of
             Heaven
             as
             thou
             :
          
           
             But
             now
             Friend
             William
             ,
             since
             it
             s
             done
             and
             past
             ,
          
           
             Pray
             thee
             ,
             give
             us
             Phanaticks
             but
             one
             Cast
             ,
          
           
             What
             thou
             foresaw'st
             of
             March
             the
             Fifteenth
             Last
             ;
          
           
             When
             swift
             and
             sudden
             as
             the
             Angels
             flye
             ,
          
           
             Th'
             Declaration
             for
             Conscience-Liberty
             ;
          
           
             When
             things
             of
             Heaven
             burst
             from
             the
             Royal
             Breast
             ,
          
           
             More
             fragrant
             than
             the
             Spices
             of
             the
             East
             .
          
           
             I
             know
             in
             next
             year's
             Almanack
             thou'lt
             write
             ,
          
           
             Thou
             saw'st
             the
             King
             and
             Council
             over-night
             ,
          
           
             Before
             that
             morn
             ,
             all
             sit
             in
             Heaven
             as
             plain
          
           
             To
             be
             discern'd
             ,
             as
             if
             't
             were
             
               Charles's
               Waine
            
             ,
          
           
             Great
             B
             ,
             great
             L
             ,
             and
             two
             great
             AA's
             were
             chief
          
           
             Under
             Great
             CHARLES
             to
             give
             poor
             Fan's
             relief
             :
          
           
             Thou
             sawest
             Lord
             Arlington
             ordain
             the
             man.
          
           
             To
             be
             the
             first
             Lay
             Metropolitan
             .
          
           
             Thou
             saw'st
             him
             give
             induction
             to
             a
             Spittle
             ,
          
           
             And
             constitute
             our
             Brother
             TOM-DOE-LITTLE
             .
          
           
             In
             the
             Bears
             Paw
             ,
             and
             the
             Bulls
             right
             Eye
             ,
          
           
             Some
             Detriment
             to
             Priests
             thou
             didst
             espye
             ;
          
           
             And
             though
             by
             Sol
             in
             Libra
             thou
             didst
             know
          
           
             Which
             way
             the
             Scale
             of
             Policy
             would
             go
             ;
          
           
             Yet
             Mercury
             in
             Aries
             did
             decree
             .
          
           
             That
             Wool
             and
             Lamb
             should
             still
             Conformists
             be
             .
          
           
             But
             hark-you
             Will
             ,
             Steer-poching
             is
             not
             fair
             ;
          
           
             Had
             you
             amongst
             the
             Steers
             found
             this
             March-Hare
             ,
          
           
             Bred
             of
             that
             lusty
             Puss
             the
             Good
             Old
             Cause
             ,
          
           
             Religion
             rescued
             from
             Informing
             Laws
             ;
          
           
             You
             should
             have
             yelpt
             aloud
             ,
             hanging's
             the
             end
             ,
          
           
             By
             Huntsmens
             Rule
             ,
             of
             Hounds
             that
             will
             not
             spend
             .
          
           
             Be
             gone
             thou
             and
             thy
             canting-Tribe
             ,
             be
             gone
             ;
          
           
             Go
             tell
             thy
             destiny
             to
             followers
             none
             :
          
           
             Kings
             Hearts
             and
             Councils
             are
             too
             deep
             for
             thee
             ,
          
           
             And
             for
             thy
             Stars
             and
             Doemons
             scrutinie
             .
          
           
             King
             CHARLES
             Return
             was
             much
             above
             thy
             skill
          
           
             To
             fumble
             out
             ,
             as
             't
             was
             against
             thy
             will.
          
           
             ●rom
             him
             who
             can
             the
             Hearts
             of
             Kings
             inspire
             ,
          
           
             Not
             from
             the
             Planets
             ,
             came
             that
             Sacred
             Fire
          
           
             Of
             Soveraign
             Love
             ,
             which
             broke
             into
             a
             Flame
             ;
          
           
             From
             God
             and
             from
             his
             King
             alone
             it
             came
             .
          
        
         
           
             To
             the
             KING
             .
          
           
             
               SO
               great
               ,
               so
               universal
               ,
               and
               so
               free
               !
            
             
               This
               was
               too
               much
               great
               CHARLES
               ,
               except
               for
               Thee
               ,
            
             
               For
               any
               King
               to
               give
               a
               Subject
               hope
               :
            
             
               To
               do
               thus
               like
               Thee
               ,
               would
               undo
               the
               Pope
               .
            
             
               Yea
               ,
               tho
               his
               Vassals
               should
               their
               wealth
               combine
               ,
            
             
               To
               buy
               Indulgence
               half
               so
               large
               as
               thine
               ;
            
             
               No
               ,
               if
               they
               should
               not
               only
               kiss
               his
               Toe
               ,
            
             
               But
               
                 Clement's
                 Podex
              
               ,
               he
               'd
               not
               let
               them
               goe
               .
            
             
               Whil'st
               Thou
               to
               's
               shame
               ,
               Thy
               immortal
               glory
               ,
            
             
               Hast
               freed
               All-Souls
               from
               real
               Purgatory
               ;
            
             
               And
               given
               All-Saints
               in
               Heav'n
               new
               Joys
               ,
               to
               see
            
             
               Their
               friends
               in
               England
               keep
               a
               Jubilee
               .
            
             
               Suspect
               them
               not
               ,
               Great
               Sir
               ,
               nor
               think
               the
               worse
               ;
            
             
               For
               sudden
               joys
               like
               grief
               ,
               confound
               at
               first
               .
            
             
               The
               splendor
               of
               your
               favour
               was
               so
               bright
               ,
            
             
               That
               yet
               it
               dazles
               and
               o'rewhelms
               our
               sight
               ;
            
             
               Drunk
               with
               her
               cups
               ,
               my
               Muse
               did
               nothing
               mind
               ;
            
             
               And
               until
               now
               ,
               her
               feet
               she
               could
               not
               find
               .
            
             
               Greediness
               makes
               profa'ness
               i'
               th'
               first
               place
               ;
            
             
               Hungry
               men
               fill
               their
               bellies
               ,
               then
               say
               grace
               .
            
             
               We
               wou'd
               make
               Bonfires
               ,
               but
               that
               we
               do
               fear
            
             
               The
               name
               of
               Incend'ary
               we
               may
               hear
               .
            
             
               We
               wou'd
               have
               Musick
               too
               ,
               but
               't
               will
               not
               doo
               ,
            
             
               For
               all
               the
               Fidlers
               are
               Conformists
               too
               .
            
             
               Nor
               can
               we
               ring
               ,
               the
               angry
               Churchman
               swears
               ,
            
             
               (
               By
               the
               King's
               leave
               )
               the
               Bells
               and
               Ropes
               are
               theirs
               .
            
             
               And
               let
               'em
               take
               'em
               ,
               for
               our
               tongues
               shall
               sing
            
             
               Your
               Honour
               louder
               than
               their
               Clappers
               ring
               .
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               if
               they
               will
               not
               at
               this
               Grace
               repine
               ,
            
             
               We
               'l
               dress
               the
               Vineyard
               ,
               they
               shall
               drink
               the
               Wine
               .
            
             
               Their
               Church
               shall
               be
               the
               Mother
               ,
               ours
               the
               Nurse
               .
            
             
               Peter
               shall
               preach
               ,
               Judas
               shall
               bear
               the
               purse
               .
            
             
               No
               
                 Bishops
                 ,
                 Parsons
                 ,
                 Vicars
                 ,
                 Curates
                 ,
              
               we
               ,
            
             
               But
               only
               Ministers
               desire
               to
               be
               .
            
             
               We
               'l
               preach
               in
               Sackcloth
               ,
               they
               shall
               read
               in
               Silk
               .
            
             
               We
               'l
               feed
               the
               Flock
               ,
               and
               let
               them
               take
               the
               Milk.
            
             
               Let
               but
               the
               Black-birds
               sing
               in
               bushes
               cold
               ,
            
             
               And
               may
               the
               Jack-dawes
               still
               the
               Steeples
               hold
               .
            
             
               We
               'l
               be
               the
               Feet
               ,
               the
               Back
               and
               Hands
               ,
               and
               they
            
             
               Shall
               be
               the
               Belly
               ,
               and
               devour
               the
               Prey
               ,
            
             
               The
               Tythe-pigg
               shall
               be
               theirs
               ,
               we
               'l
               turn
               the
               spit
               ,
            
             
               We
               'l
               bear
               the
               Cross
               ,
               they
               only
               sign
               with
               it
               .
            
             
               But
               if
               the
               Patriarchs
               shall
               envy
               show
            
             
               To
               see
               their
               younger-Brother
               Joseph
               go
            
             
               In
               Coat
               of
               divers
               colours
               ,
               and
               shall
               fall
            
             
               To
               rend
               it
               ,
               '
               cause
               it
               's
               not
               Canonical
               :
            
             
               Then
               may
               they
               find
               him
               turn
               a
               Dreamer
               too
               ,
            
             
               And
               live
               themselves
               to
               see
               his
               Dream
               come
               true
               .
            
             
               May
               rather
               they
               and
               we
               together
               joyn
            
             
               In
               all
               what
               each
               can
               ;
               But
               they
               have
               the
               Coyn
               :
            
             
               With
               Prayers
               and
               Tears
               such
               service
               much
               avail
               :
            
             
               With
               Tears
               to
               swell
               your
               Seas
               ,
               with
               Prayers
               your
               Sails
               ;
            
             
               And
               with
               Men
               too
               ,
               from
               both
               our
               parties
               ;
               such
            
             
               I
               'm
               sure
               we
               have
               ,
               can
               cheat
               ,
               or
               beat
               ,
               the
               Dutch.
            
             
               A
               Thousand
               Quakers
               ,
               Sir
               ,
               our
               side
               can
               spare
               ;
            
             
               Nay
               ,
               two
               or
               three
               ,
               for
               they
               great
               Breeders
               are
               .
            
             
               The
               Church
               can
               match
               us
               too
               with
               Jovial
               Sirs
               ,
            
             
               
                 Informers
                 ,
                 Singing-men
              
               and
               Paraters
               .
            
             
               Let
               the
               King
               try
               ,
               set
               these
               upon
               the
               Decks
            
             
               Together
               ,
               they
               will
               Dutch
               or
               Devil
               vex
               .
            
             
               Their
               Breath
               will
               mischief
               further
               than
               a
               Gun.
            
             
               And
               if
               you
               lose
               them
               ,
               you
               'l
               not
               be
               undone
               .
            
             
               Pardon
               dread
               Sir
               ,
               nay
               pardon
               this
               coarse
               Paper
               ,
            
             
               Your
               License
               't
               was
               made
               this
               poor
               Poet
               caper
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             ITER
             BOREALE
             .
          
        
      
    
     
  

