Fill'd Bedlam with Predeftination,
And Knights-Bridge with Illumination:
Made Children, with your Tones, to run for❜t,
As bad as Bloody-Bones or Lunsford, Dy
While Women, Great with Child, miscarry'd
For being to Malignants marry'd,
Transform'd all Wives to Dalilabs,
Whofe Husbands are not for the Cause;
And turn'd the Men to Ten-horn'd Cattel,
Because they came not out to Battel :
Made Taylors Prentices turn Heroes,
For fear of being transform'd to Meroz;
And rather forfeit their Indentures,
Than not efpoufe the Saints Adventures.
Could Tranfubftantiate, Metamorphofe,
And charm whole Herds of Beafts, like Orpheus
Inchant the King's and Churches Lands,
T' obey and follow your Commands;
And settle on a new Free-hold,
As Marcly-Hill had done of Old.
Could turn the Covenant, and translate
The Gospel into Spoons and Plate :
Expound upon all Merchants Cashes,
Could Catechise a Money-Box,
And prove all Powches Orthodox;
Uuntil the Caufe became a Damon,
And Pythias the wicked Mammon.
And yet, in fpite of all your Charms,
To conjure Legion up in Arms;
And raise more Devils in the out,
Than e'er y' were able to caft out:
Y' have been reduc'd, and by thofe Tous,
Bred up (you fay) in your own Schools;
Who, though but Gifted at your Feet;
Have made it plain they have more Wit.
By whom y' have been fo oft trepan'd,
And held-forth out of all Command:
Out gifted, Out-impuls'd, Out-done,
And Out-reveal'd at Carryings-on.
Of all your Difpenfations worm'd,
Out-providenc'd, and Out-reform'd;
Ejected out of Church and State,
And all things but the People's Hate:
And spirited out of th' Enjoyments
Of precious, edifying Employments;
By those who lodg'd their Gifts and Graces,
Like better Bowlers, in your Places.
All which you bore with Refolution,
Charg'd on th' Account of Perfecution
And though, moft righteously oppreft,
Against your Wills, ftill acquieft:
And never Humm'd and Hau'd Sedition,
Nor Snuffled Treafon, nor Mifprifion.
That is, because you never durft;
For had you preach'd and pray'd your worst,
Alas! you were no longer able
To raise your Poffe of the Rabble:
One fingle Red-Coat Centinel
Out-charm'd the Magick of the Spell;
And with his Squirt-fire, could disperse
Whole Troops, with Chapter rais'd and Verfe
We know too well thofe Tricks of yours,
To leave it ever in your Powers :
Or truft our Safeties, or Undoings,
To your Difpofing of Out-goings;
Or to your Ord'ring Providence,
One Farthings-worth of Confequence.
For had you Pow'r to undermine,
Or Wit to carry a Design,
Or Correfpondence, to trepan,
Inveigle, or betray one Man;
There's nothing else that intervenes,
And bars your Zeal to use the Means.
And therefore wond'rous like, no doubt,
To bring in Kings, or keep them out:
Brave Undertakers to restore,
That could not keep your Selves in Pow'r;
T' advance the Int'refts of the Crown,
That wanted Wit to keep your own.
'Tis true, you have (for I'd be loth
To wrong ye) done your Parts in both;
To keep him out, and bring him in,
As Grace is introduc'd by Sin;
For 'twas your Zealous Want of Sense,
And fanctify'd Impertinence;
Your carrying Bus'ness in a Huddle,
That forc'd our Rulers to New-model ;
Oblig'd the State to tack about,
And turn you, Root and Branch, all out;
To Reformado, One and All,
T' your Great Croyfado, General.
Your greedy flav'ring to devour,
Before 'twas in your Clutches Pow'r,
That sprung the Game you were to set,
Before y' had time to draw the Net:
Your Spite to see the Church's Lands
Divided into other Hands,
And all your Sacrilegious Ventures,
Laid out in Tickets and Debentures;
Your Envy to be fprinkled down,
By Under Churches in the Town ;
And no Course us'd to stop their Mouths,
Nor th Independents spreading Growths.
All which confider'd, 'tis moft true,
None bring him in so much as you :
Who have prevail'd beyond their Plots,
The Midnight Junto's, and seal'd Knots;
That thrive more by your Zealous Piques,
Than all their own rafh Politicks.
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