







 
   
     
       
         The grateful non-conformist; or A return of thanks to Sir John Baber Knight, and Doctor of Physick who sent the author ten crowns
         Wild, Robert, 1609-1679.
      
       
         
           1665
        
      
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         A96479
         Wing W2127
         ESTC R220400
         99831803
         99831803
         171545
         
           
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             The grateful non-conformist; or A return of thanks to Sir John Baber Knight, and Doctor of Physick who sent the author ten crowns
             Wild, Robert, 1609-1679.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.)
           
             [s.n.],
             London :
             printed in the year 1665.
          
           
             Attributed to Robert Wild by Wing.
             Verse - "Ten crowns at once! and to one man! and he".
             A satirical attack on Sir John Baber, M.D., who was often employed by Charles II to negotiate with puritans and other non-conformists.
             Reproductions of the originals in the British Library and Bodleian Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Baber, John, -- Sir, 1625-1704 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800.
        
      
    
     
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           The
           Grateful
           Non-Conformist
           ;
           OR
           ,
           A
           RETURN
           of
           THANKS
           To
           Sir
           
             JOHN
             BABER
          
           Knight
           ,
           and
           Doctor
           of
           Physick
           who
           sent
           the
           AUTHOR
           Ten
           Crowns
           .
        
         
           
             
               TEn
               Crowns
               at
               once
            
             !
             and
             to
             one
             man
             !
             and
             he
          
           
             As
             despicable
             as
             bad
             Poets
             be
             !
          
           
             Who
             scarce
             had
             wit
             ,
             if
             you
             requir'd
             the
             same
             ,
          
           
             To
             make
             an
             Anagram
             upon
             your
             name
             ;
          
           
             Or
             to
             out-run
             a
             Badger
             ,
             or
             prepare
          
           
             An
             Epitaph
             to
             serve
             a
             Quinb'rough-May'r
             :
          
           
             A
             limping-Levite
             ,
             who
             scarce
             in
             his
             prime
          
           
             Could
             woo
             an
             Abigail
             ,
             or
             
               say
               Grace
               in
               Rime
            
             :
          
           
             
               Ten
               Crowns
            
             to
             such
             a
             thing
             !
             Friend
             ,
             't
             is
             a
             Dose
          
           
             Able
             to
             raise
             dead
             Ben
             ,
             or
             
             Dav'nant's
             Nose
             ;
          
           
             Able
             to
             make
             a
             Courtier
             turn
             a
             Friend
             ,
          
           
             And
             more
             then
             all
             of
             them
             in
             Victuals
             spend
             .
          
           
             This
             free
             Free-Parli'ment
             ,
             whose
             Gifts
             do
             sound
          
           
             Full
             
               five
               and
               twenty
               hundred
               thousand
               pound
               ,
            
          
           
             You
             have
             out-done
             them
             ,
             Sir
             ;
             yours
             was
             
               your
               own
            
             ,
          
           
             And
             some
             of
             
               It
               shall
               last
            
             when
             
               Theirs
               is
               gone
            
             .
          
           
             
               Ten
               Crowns
               at
               once
            
             !
             and
             now
             at
             such
             a
             time
             ,
          
           
             When
             love
             to
             such
             as
             I
             am
             ,
             is
             a
             Crime
          
           
             Greater
             than
             his
             recorded
             in
             
               Jane
               Shore
            
             ,
          
           
             Who
             gave
             but
             one
             poor
             Loaf
             to
             the
             
               starv'd
               Whore
            
             :
          
           
             What
             now
             to
             help
             a
             Non-Conformist
             !
             now
             ,
          
           
             When
             Ministers
             are
             broke
             ,
             that
             will
             not
             bow
             :
          
           
             When
             't
             is
             to
             be
             unblest
             ,
             to
             be
             ungirt
             ;
          
           
             To
             wear
             no
             Surplice
             ,
             does
             deserve
             no
             Shirt
             :
          
           
             No
             Broth
             ,
             no
             Meat
             ;
             no
             Service
             ,
             no
             Protection
             ;
          
           
             No
             Cross
             ,
             no
             Coyn
             ;
             no
             Collect
             ,
             no
             Collection
             :
          
           
             You
             are
             a
             
               daring
               Knight
            
             ,
             thus
             to
             be
             kind
             :
          
           
             If
             
               trusty
               Roger
            
             get
             it
             in
             the
             Wind
             ,
          
           
             He
             'll
             smell
             a
             Plot
             ,
             a
             
               Presbyterian
               Plot
            
             ,
          
           
             Especially
             for
             what
             you
             gave
             the
             
               [
               Scot
               :
            
             ]
          
           
             And
             if
             the
             
               Spiritual
               Court
            
             take
             fire
             from
             Crack
             ,
          
           
             They
             'l
             clap
             a
             Parritor
             upon
             your
             Back
             ,
          
           
             Shall
             make
             you
             shrug
             ,
             as
             if
             you
             wore
             the
             Collar
          
           
             Of
             a
             
               Cashiered
               Red-Coat
            
             ,
             or
             
               poor
               Scholar
            
             .
          
           
             What
             will
             you
             plead
             ,
             Sir
             ,
             if
             they
             put
             you
             to
             '
             t
             ?
          
           
             Was
             it
             the
             Doctor
             or
             the
             Knight
             did
             do
             '
             t
             ?
          
           
             Did
             you
             ,
             as
             Doctor
             ,
             flux
             some
             Usurer
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             your
             Physick
             his
             
               dull
               Silver
            
             stir
             ?
          
           
             Or
             did
             your
             Zeal
             you
             a
             Knight-Templar
             make
             ,
          
           
             To
             give
             the
             Church
             the
             Booties
             you
             should
             take
             ?
          
           
             Or
             ,
             was
             it
             your
             desire
             to
             beg
             Applause
             ,
          
           
             Or
             shew
             affection
             to
             the
             
               GOOD
               OLD
               CAUSE
            
             ?
          
           
             Was
             't
             to
             feed
             Faction
             ,
             or
             uphold
             the
             stickle
          
           
             Between
             the
             
               Old
               Church
            
             and
             
               New
               Conventicle
            
             ?
          
           
             No
             ,
             none
             of
             these
             ;
             but
             I
             have
             hit
             the
             thing
             ,
          
           
             It
             was
             because
             
               You
               knew
               I
               lov'd
               the
               King.
               
            
          
        
         
           
             
               Ten
               Crowns
               at
               once
            
             !
             Sir
             ,
             you
             'l
             suspected
             be
          
           
             For
             
               no
               good
               Protestant
            
             ,
             you
             are
             so
             free
             :
          
           
             So
             much
             at
             once
             !
             Sure
             you
             ne'er
             gave
             before
             ;
          
           
             Or
             else
             ,
             I
             doubt
             ,
             mean
             to
             do
             so
             no
             more
             :
          
           
             This
             is
             enough
             to
             make
             a
             man
             protest
          
           
             
               Religio
               Medici
            
             to
             be
             the
             best
             .
          
           
             The
             Christians
             for
             whose
             sakes
             
               we
               are
               undone
            
             ,
          
           
             Would
             have
             cry'd
             out
             ,
             
               O'tis
               too
               much
               for
               one
            
          
           
             
               Either
               to
               give
               or
               take
               !
               What
               needs
               this
               waste
               ?
            
          
           
             O
             how
             they
             love
             to
             have
             us
             keep
             a
             Fast
             !
          
           
             
               Five
               private
               Meetings
            
             (
             whereat
             each
             four
             Men
          
           
             In
             
               black
               Coats
            
             and
             
               white
               Caps
            
             (
             you
             'l
             call
             them
             then
          
           
             
               A
               Teem
               of
               Ministers
            
             )
             have
             tugg'd
             all
             day
             ,
          
           
             Deserving
             Provender
             ,
             but
             scarce
             got
             Hay
             ;
          
           
             Where
             I
             my self
             have
             drawn
             my
             part
             some
             hours
             )
          
           
             Have
             not
             afforded
             such
             return
             as
             yours
             ,
          
           
             I
             'd
             wish
             them
             watch
             ,
             and
             keep
             me
             sober
             still
             ;
          
           
             Not
             want
             of
             guilt
             in
             them
             ,
             nor
             want
             of
             Will
          
           
             In
             me
             ,
             but
             want
             of
             Wine
             does
             make
             me
             lame
             ,
          
           
             Or
             else
             I
             'd
             sacrifice
             them
             to
             the
             flame
          
           
             Of
             an
             high-blazing
             Satyr
             ;
             here
             's
             a
             Man
          
           
             Who
             ne'er
             pretended
             at
             your
             Rates
             ,
             yet
             can
          
           
             More
             freely
             feed
             us
             with
             Coyn
             and
             good
             Dishes
          
           
             Than
             they
             ,
             yet
             that
             is
             their
             Alms
             ,
             sighs
             and
             wishes
             .
          
        
         
           
             O
             for
             a
             Rapture
             !
             how
             shall
             I
             describe
          
           
             The
             love
             of
             thousands
             to
             their
             
               Reading
               Tribe
            
             ?
          
           
             Who
             so
             maintain'd
             them
             when
             they
             lost
             their
             Places
             ,
          
           
             They
             did
             not
             lose
             one
             Pimple
             from
             their
             Faces
             ;
          
           
             But
             after
             all
             ,
             full
             fraught
             with
             Flesh
             and
             Flagon
             ,
          
           
             Came
             forth
             like
             Monks
             ,
             or
             Priests
             of
             
               Bell
               and
               Dragon
            
             :
          
           
             One
             would
             have
             judg'd
             ,
             by
             their
             high
             looks
             and
             smells
             ,
          
           
             They
             had
             layn-in
             in
             Cellars
             ,
             not
             in
             Cells
             ;
          
           
             Where
             they
             grew
             big
             and
             batten'd
             :
             for
             without
             doubt
          
           
             Some
             that
             went
             Firkins
             in
             ,
             came
             Hogsheads
             out
             .
          
           
             But
             ours
             in
             two
             years
             time
             are
             Skin
             and
             Bones
             ,
          
           
             And
             look
             like
             Granhams
             ,
             or
             old
             Apple-Johns
             :
          
           
             One
             Lazarus
             amongst
             us
             was
             too
             much
             ;
          
           
             But
             er
             't
             be
             long
             ,
             we
             all
             shall
             look
             like
             such
             ;
          
           
             And
             when
             that
             comes
             to
             pass
             ,
             the
             World
             shall
             see
          
           
             Who
             are
             the
             
               Ghostly
               Fathers
            
             ,
             They
             or
             We
             :
          
           
             And
             then
             our
             Bellies
             ,
             without
             better
             fare
             ,
          
           
             Will
             prove
             as
             empty
             as
             their
             Noddles
             are
             .
          
           
             Though
             We
             be
             silent
             ,
             our
             Guts
             won't
             be
             so
             ;
          
           
             But
             make
             a
             Conventicle
             as
             they
             go
             :
          
           
             Peace
             ,
             Colon
             ,
             peace
             ,
             and
             cease
             thy
             croaking
             din
             ;
          
           
             Thou
             art
             condemd'd
             to
             be
             a
             Chitterlin
             .
          
           
             Nigardly
             Puritans
             !
             blush
             at
             the
             odds
          
           
             Betwixt
             their
             BONNER's
             ,
             and
             
               our
               meagre
            
             DOD's
             ;
          
           
             You
             give
             your
             Drink
             in
             Thimbles
             ,
             they
             in
             Bowls
             ;
          
           
             Your
             Church
             is
             
               poor
               St.
               Faiths
            
             ,
             but
             theirs
             is
             POWLS
             :
          
           
             And
             whilst
             you
             Priests
             and
             Altars
             do
             despise
             ,
          
           
             Your selves
             prove
             Priests
             ,
             and
             we
             your
             Sacrifice
             .
          
           
             But
             why
             do
             I
             permit
             my
             Muse
             to
             whine
             ?
          
           
             I
             wish
             my
             Brethren
             all
             such
             Cheeks
             as
             mine
             ;
          
           
             And
             those
             that
             wish
             them
             well
             ,
             such
             Hearts
             as
             thine
             .
          
        
         
           
             My
             Noble
             BABER
             !
             I
             have
             chosen
             you
          
           
             For
             my
             Physician
             ,
             and
             my
             Champion
             too
             :
          
           
             Give
             me
             sometimes
             but
             such
             a
             Dose
             ,
             and
             I
          
           
             Will
             ne'er
             wish
             other
             Cordial
             till
             I
             die
             :
          
           
             And
             then
             proclaim
             you
             a
             most
             
               Valiant
               Knight
            
             ;
          
           
             Shew
             but
             
               such
               Metal
            
             ,
             though
             you
             
               never
               fight
            
             .
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
      
    
     
       
         
           London
           ,
           Printed
           in
           the
           Year
           1665.
           
        
      
    
  

