







 
   
     
       
         Another ballad: called The libertines lampoone: or, The curvets of conscience. To the tune of, Thomas Venner, or 60. / Written by the authour of the Geneva Ballad.
         Butler, Samuel, 1612-1680.
      
       
         
           1674
        
      
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         Text Creation Partnership,
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         2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).
         B01384
         11403485
         Wing A3249
         Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.4[115]
         ESTC R30700
         99889678
         ocm99889678
         182784
         
           
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             Another ballad: called The libertines lampoone: or, The curvets of conscience. To the tune of, Thomas Venner, or 60. / Written by the authour of the Geneva Ballad.
             Butler, Samuel, 1612-1680.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.).
           
             Printed for F.K. and Edward Thomas, and are to be sold at his shop at the Adam [and Eve in Little-Brittain],
             London :
             1674.
          
           
             Geneva ballad attributed to Samuel Butler by Wing.
             Verse: "AS I examin'd my Conscience ..."
             Imperfect: cropped at foot with partial loss of imprint.
             Reproduction of original in the British Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Political ballads and songs -- England -- Early works to 1800.
           Conscience -- Early works to 1800.
           Ballads, English -- 17th century.
        
      
    
     
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           ANOTHER
           BALLAD
           :
           Called
           the
           Libertines
           Lampoone
           :
           OR
           ,
           The
           Curvets
           of
           Conscience
           .
        
         
           To
           the
           Tune
           of
           ,
           
             Thomas
             Venner
          
           ,
           Or
           60.
           
        
         
           Written
           by
           the
           Authour
           of
           the
           Geneva
           Ballad
        
         
           
             AS
             I
             examin'd
             my
             Conscience
             ,
          
           
             All
             by
             my self
             ;
          
           
             My
             head
             was
             full
             of
             Nonsence
             :
          
           
             After
             seven
             times
             turning
             ,
          
           
             Worse
             then
             a
             burning
             ,
          
           
             I
             found
             she
             was
             a
             Way
             ward
             Elf.
          
           
             
               Ceremonious
               Oaths
               ,
               and
               humane
               Laws
               offend
               her
               ,
            
          
           
             
               She
               's
               constant
               as
               a
               Weather-cock
               ,
               and
               as
               a
               Milstone
               tender
            
             ;
          
           
             
               E'ne
               such
               another
            
             Protestant
             ,
             
               as
               the
               old
               Witch
               of
            
             Ender
             .
          
           
             
               Halloo
               my
               Conscience
               whither
               wilt
               thou
               go
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Treason
             she
             says
             is
             Religion
             ,
          
           
             Sacriledge
             Zeal
             ;
          
           
             A
             Crow
             she
             calls
             a
             Pidgeon
             :
          
           
             She
             tells
             you
             further
             ,
          
           
             Plundering
             and
             Murther
             ,
          
           
             Do
             Service
             to
             the
             Common-weal
             .
          
           
             
               Justice
               she
               esteemeth
               to
               be
               a
               very
               slow
               thing
               ,
            
          
           
             
               Power
               Ecclesiastick
               ,
               she
               reckons
               as
               a
               low
               thing
               ,
            
          
           
             
               And
               for
               an
               Act
               of
               Parliament
               she
               counts
               it
               next
               to
               nothing
            
             ;
          
           
             
               Halloo
               my
               Conscience
            
             ,
             &c.
             
          
        
         
           
             A
             Nonconformist
             to
             please
             her
             ,
          
           
             Lately
             declar'd
             :
          
           
             She
             's
             more
             a
             Prince
             then
             Caesar
             ;
          
           
             Say
             what
             she
             will
             say
             ,
          
           
             These
             fellows
             still
             say
             ,
          
           
             She
             must
             and
             ought
             to
             be
             heard
             .
          
           
             Though
             Mallice
             
               can
               corrupt
               her
               ,
               and
            
             Avaric●
             
               can
               taint
               her
            
             ,
          
           
             Pride
             
               can
               blow
               her
               up
               ,
               and
            
             Hypocrisi
             
               can
               paint
               her
            
             ,
          
           
             
               And
               when
            
             Truth
             
               cryes
               her
               down
               Sedition
               can
               Saint
               her
               .
            
          
           
             
               Halloo
               my
               Conscience
            
             ,
             &c.
             
          
        
         
           
             Changes
             she
             can
             Ring
             a
             hundred
          
           
             More
             then
             are
             good
             ,
          
           
             Else
             it
             might
             be
             wondred
             ,
          
           
             In
             the
             mutations
             ,
          
           
             Of
             these
             three
             Nations
          
           
             How
             upon
             her
             Legs
             she
             hath
             stood
             .
          
           
             
               For
               under
               the
               old
            
             Rumpers
             
               she
               was
               enfore'd
               to
               truckle
            
             ,
          
           
             Cromwel
             
               and
               his
            
             Janisaries
             
               made
               her
               glad
               to
               buckle
            
             ,
          
           
             
               And
               when
               the
               King
               came
               in
               ,
               she
               got
               the
               trick
               to
               smuckle
               ,
            
          
           
             
               Halloo
               my
               Conscience
            
             ,
             &c.
             
          
        
         
           
             When
             Smec
             and
             the
             Independant
          
           
             Began
             to
             Clash
             :
          
           
             She
             could
             foresee
             the
             end
             on
             't
             ;
          
           
             And
             as
             soon
             as
             the
             day
          
           
             First
             brake
             at
             Breda
             ,
          
           
             She
             kept
             her self
             out
             of
             the
             lash
             .
          
           
             
               Although
               of
               the
               Surplice
               she
               never
               had
               a
               Rag
               on
               ,
            
          
           
             
               Of
               all
               her
               nimble
               tricks
               ,
               this
               she
               hath
               cause
               to
               brag
               on
               ,
            
          
           
             
               She
               pitcht
               upon
               her
               Feet
               when
            
             Bell
             
               fought
               with
               the
            
             Dragon
          
           
             
               Halloo
               my
            
             ,
             &c.
             
          
        
         
           
             Quite
             from
             bending
             and
             bowing
             ,
          
           
             She
             is
             declin'd
             :
          
           
             To
             Theeing
             ,
             and
             to
             Thouing
             ,
          
           
             Sects
             and
             perswasions
          
           
             All
             Modes
             and
             Fashions
             ,
          
           
             Of
             every
             sort
             and
             kind
             .
          
           
             
               She
               was
               a
            
             Brownist
             
               lately
               ,
               an
            
             Anabaptist
             newly
             ,
          
           
             
               And
               then
               she
               fell
               to
               plainly
               ,
               Verily
               and
               Truly
               :
            
          
           
             
               But
               errors
               have
               no
               end
               ,
               and
               factions
               want
               a
            
             Thule
             .
          
           
             
               Halloo
               my
            
             ,
             &c.
             
          
        
         
           
             Such
             is
             her
             intricate
             winding
          
           
             No
             Man
             can
             trace
             ,
          
           
             She
             loaths
             to
             hear
             of
             binding
             :
          
           
             She
             's
             free
             and
             willing
             ,
          
           
             Although
             it
             be
             by
             killing
          
           
             To
             run
             the
             Fanatick
             Race
             .
          
           
             
               He
               that
               can
               restrain
               her
               ,
               may
               fix
               the
               stars
               that
               wander
               ,
            
          
           
             
               Cure
               the
               sits
               of
            
             Jealousie
             ,
             
               or
               gag
               the
               Mouth
               of
            
             Slander
             :
          
           
             
               Sail
               without
               a
            
             Rudder
             ,
             
               and
               rectifie
            
             Meander
             .
          
           
             
               Halloo
               my
            
             ,
             &c.
             
          
        
         
           
             Drunk
             with
             the
             Doctrine
             of
             Tub●men
          
           
             See
             how
             she
             reels
             ,
          
           
             From
             Men
             of
             Law
             to
             Club-men
             ,
          
           
             This
             way
             and
             that
             way
             ,
          
           
             No
             man
             knows
             what
             way
             ,
          
           
             Unsteadfast
             as
             Phaetons
             Wheels
             :
          
           
             In
             Faith
             
               none
               more
               fervent
               ,
               in
            
             Charity
             
               none
               colder
            
             ,
          
           
             
               As
               fiery
               as
            
             Bucephalus
             ,
             
               and
               then
               blind
            
             Byard
             bolder
             :
          
           
             
               She
               's
               too
               untame
               for
            
             Earth
             ,
             
               and
               none
               but
            
             Hell
             
               can
               hold
               her
            
             .
          
           
             
               I
               ,
               I
               ,
               't
               is
               thither
               ,
               thither
               ,
               she
               may
               go
               .
            
          
        
      
    
     
       
         
           LONDON
           ,
           Printed
           for
           
             E.
             K.
          
           and
           
             Edward
             Thomas
          
           ,
           and
           are
           to
           be
           sold
           at
           his
           Shop
           at
           the
           Adam
        
      
    
  

