THE Jacobite Conventicle.
A POEM.
For Fools are Stubborn in their Way,
As Coins are hardned by th' Allay,
And Obstinacy's ne'r so stiff,
As when 'tis in a wrong belief.
Hudibras, Part 3. Canto 2.
LONDON: Printed for R. Stafford, 1692.
THE PREFACE.
IN the days of Whig and Tory, when the Loyal Pulpits sounded with Harrangues of Obedience and Submission, and the poor Dissenter was forced to creep by Owl-light into some private House to Worship his God in Secret, when loud Hems Echoed through the Churches, by way of Approbation, to a Clinching Period against the Cromwellians and new Anti-royallists, and the Meeters drag'd through the Streets by Constables and Watchmen, when that bouncing Loyalty took place of all the other Vertues, and none were to be Saved out of the Pale of the Church of England: Who would have thought to have seen such a change of Affairs? But above all, to have seen a Conventicle (that word of odious sound) composed of a few Discontented Persons, who yet call themselves the Church of England [Page] Protestants; surely Copernicus was not much in the wrong, when he said the World went round, and the Sun stood still; but Conscience, they say, is a Sacred thing, and ought not to be Violated; but at the same time, is it not a great Riddle, that Man's Conscience should boggle at a Lawful Oath, and yet be quiet enough under an Vnlawful Debauch, pretend Loyalty to Government, and yet run counter to all its commands, Fast and Revel on the days Appointed for Fasting and Humiliation, say they are of an Established Church, and yet meet in an Vnlawful Conventicle; aver they Love their Countrey, and yet wish well to the French Dragoons? If these are not so many contradictions, let the World judg, for they whose minds can swallow such Contrarieties, are fit to believe Transubstantiation, and undoubtedly will prove as Errand Biggots to the Church of Rome, should another Revolution happen, as they are now ( to what they falsly call themselves the true Members of) The Church of England.
THE Jacobite Conventicle.
TEdious have been our hopes, and long our Prayers,
Within the compass of the
three past Years,
How oft in private have we met to Mourn,
And whine and snivel for
Our Lord's Return?
Our Wishes too, how strangely were they crost,
When the
French Fleet drew near the
English Coast,
When we expected our
Deliverance near,
From
Choaking Oaths and
Taxes so
Severe;
[Page 2] A glimps of
Heaven we having then in view,
But ah! how soon that gawdy Scene withdrew,
Leaving a dismal Prospect in its room,
Of thousand Miseries are yet to come;
Must still our thoughts endure the wracking pain,
Always to hope, and wish, but yet in vain?
Nay, Heaven it self, to add to our Dispairs,
Seems to neglect and put by all our
Prayers:
Is there no hopes that wretched, cheated we,
Shall Once more taste of Luscious Liberty;
Once more be thought the Favourites of the Nation,
And trample o're the Men of
Abdication?
Those
Rogues, who to increase their guilty score,
Found out a word was never heard before.
Yet there a time may come, (but when it will,
Exceeds the reach of Learned
Gadb'ry's Skill)
When
Loyalty shall meet in due regard,
And those that dare be honest, find reward.
The time may come—when Right will have its place,
And lie no longer under Black Disgrace.
[Page 3] To Skill in Stars, tho I make no presence,
Methinks I view it in the
Present Sense;
Methinks I see th'Approaching smiling Years,
Roul on a-pace to recompence our Tears.
Fly fast, ye Weeks, ye Months, post quickly on,
And settle
J—once more upon his Throne.
But hold—to what strange Notions am I brought
By the too strong Impulses of my thought?
To
Church I'll go—that word, Good Heaven, forgive,
The
Church shall be my
Odium while I live:
I hate the
Priest, who has a Double Face,
Religion's Scandal, and his Gown's Disgrace.
Give me the Man with Conscience void of blame,
Is in all Turns of Government the same,
Who hates Rebellion, nor can
Treason bless,
And does not judge of Actions by Success:
That Man should never starve while I was able,
I'de serve him with my Purse, my Bed, my Table;
His Doctrine I much sooner would believe,
Than a
Spruce Bishop's in his white Lawn Sleeve:
[Page 4] Such Men I've heard, and hope to hear agen.
Bless me! 'tis late—the Clock has just struck ten,
But hold—Before to
Fetter. Lane I go,
'Tis requisite the Entrance-word I know:
Last
Sunday 'twas
Commandement the fifth,
And now St.
Germains is the
Shibboleth:
'Tis so—and now with eager steps I fly
To the true Church of
England's Ministry,
To hear a sort of Men who ever knew,
Still to be faithful, loyal, firm and true,
Who from their
Souls detest the swearing Vice,
Eeither to get or keep a Benefice.
Thus I in
Temple-Cloysters walking,
O're-heard a Man t' himself a talking:
But if for Lye you this will Chalk;
At least I thought he thus would talk;
For by a
Discontented Phiz,
One sometimes reads a
Thought which lies,
Full Fifteen Fathom under Water:
If this is false, thank
Erra Pater
[Page 5] For in his Book, the
Fourteenth Chapter,
About an
Astrological Rapture,
He says,—But why do I thus strive
To tell you what you wont believe?
But I my self being somewhat curious,
Did follow this
Old Huncks Penurious,
Through
Streets, Lanes, Alleys and
By-ways,
More than are found in
Stow's
Surveys,
Traversing almost as much Ground,
As on
New-Market Heath is found,
Leading me such a dainty jaunt,
As if one on an Errand sent,
Missing his way, which did not hap well,
Should go by
Lambeth to
White-Chappel;
How'ere at last, in
Lane of Fetter,
Than which, there is not many better,
In
Magpye-court, or
Yard, or
Alley,
For which 'twas,
Faith, I cannot tell ye,
He stopt at Door, which stood at jar,
And whisp'ring softly in the Ear,
Of one whose looks declar'd Suspicion,
Receiv'd into the House Admission:
[Page 6] I seeing this, with Confidence,
Whate're might be the consequence,
Went boldly up, and gave the Sign,
(
The Word I mean) and so got in;
But by their jealous Looks and Eyes
I plainly read their strange Surprize,
To see one to their Meeting come,
Whom they believ'd was
none of Them;
They Star'd—and I forgot to Blush,
But boldly to the midst I rush,
And sate me down upon a
Hassock,
Expecting
Clergy-man in
Cassock,
That
Holy Smith who blows the
Coals
Of
Discontent, and Saves their
Souls,
By telling them that no
Salvation
Can be to Men of
Abdication,
And that a Hell is still appointed
For those resist the
Lord's Anointed.
But he, it seems, was not come yet,
But staid behind to take a
Whet
Of
White Wine, in a brimming Taster,
In Mem'ry of his
Absent Master,
[Page 7] Which might his
Spirits better quicken;
But now the
Plot begins to
Thicken,
Folks to the
Place in Clusters Trolling,
(As
Snow-balls gather by their
Rolling,
So fast, altho the Room was
Large,
'Twas cram'd as full as
Gravesend Barge,
'Tho different
Sexes, different
Ages,
(For some were
Youths and some were
Sages)
Made up this private
Congregation,
Yet
Envy, Discontent and
Passion,
In Face of every one appear'd,
Both of smooth Chin and grisly Beard,
As plain as is the
Light in
Phaebus,
When he Looks down on Mortal
Rebus.
Nor could the grinning smile conceal
The Passions, which in
Breast they feel,
As if these People took delight,
Only to wait on God for Spite;
Soft buzzing
Whispers fill the
Room,
And into close
Committees, some
Retire, to give their
Thoughts a Vent,
And Drevil forth their
Discontent,
[Page 8] Which
Poyson, as the one spits forth,
The other Licks it up, in Troth.
A Man perceiving of a
Dry Nod,
Came to a little Private
Synod,
Or
Junto, which was just behind me,
To prate they fall, and did not mind me;
But not in words so soft and
Butter'd,
But I could hear each word they
Vtter'd;
Quoth one, I wonder what a
Devil
Should make the
Parliament so civil,
Such
Taxes on the
Land to Draw,
We must make
Bricks, yet have no
Straw;
If they go on, 'tis plain and clear,
The
French, which we so idly fear,
As soon will make Descent on
Finland,
As e're Attempt to Land in
England.
Within three years we shall become
The Poorest State in
Christendom;
All Nations will on us be
Pissing,
And we become the
Scorn and
Hissing,
Of all the Kingdoms which are known,
'Twixt us and
Land of Prester John.
[Page 9] Besides, the Mony which is Rais'd
Pays not the
English, God be Prais'd;
No, poor contented Villains, they
Must venture on, yet have no Pay,
Except a little small Subsistance,
A very trifling small Assistance,
Just to keep Life and Soul together,
Against the force of Wind and Weather,
Whilst
Brandenburgers, Danes and
Dutchmen,
Sweeds, Germans, and all other such Men,
Are duly paid off to a Penny,
And long Arrears they have not any.
You speak the very truth on't Neighbour,
Replies his Friend (with
Thought in Labour
To be Deliver'd of some Matter,
Which sore opprest his
Pia Mater)
If our forefathers were complaining,
That
Rome was still their Purses Draining;
By
Peter's
Pence, and such Taxation,
How just are now the
Cries o'th' Nation?
Four Shillings first in every
Pound,
Did fine Estates most largely wound,
[Page 10] (Estates as well as Bodies needing,
For their Healths sake a timely Bleeding)
The
Double Excise, which all men reckon'd,
To hold but one year, lasts a Second,
And it may still for ought that we know,
Till Day of
Judgment so continue;
But that which was the topping sole Act
Of the last
Sessions, was the
Poll Act,
Where each man must, or nill, or willing,
For's Head, pay quarterly a
Shilling,
When most Mens Brains in Head which rest,
Sir,
Are hardly worth a single
Tester;
But 'tis much better sure in one sense
To
Pay for
Head, than
Pay for
Conscience,
For Faith I should be very loth
To
Pay Two pounds or take an
Oath.
The Oaths!—As soon I'de swallow
Ratsbane,
Or any other
Payson that's Bane,
(Rejoyns a third)
O'bomination,
What swallow down
my own Damnation;
[Page 11] A
Butter'd Hedg-hog I could better
Digest, than of the
Oaths a Letter.
But pray what News have y' in the
City?
Sure matters there go
very pretty,
And
Guineas into
Guild-hall go,
As if our Land were
Mexico,
Or as each Merchant there a Dweller,
Had found a Golden Mine in's Celler:
Well, if their Faith for things above,
Like that for things below, does prove,
'Tis Ten to One, and Two to Eleven,
They all of them will meet in Heaven.
They say the
King and all his
Allies,
(Speaks a fourth Man amongst these fellows)
Intend, as folk's report most true is,
To pull down Pride of
Mighty Lewis,
And
William for a Wager carries
His Arms into the Heart of
Paris,
And of the strange Opinion some are,
That all this must be done this
Summer:
Well,
they may please their idle Fancies,
With such like
Tales and
State Romances;
[Page 12] But I believe they'l find more Odds,
Than
Giants did that Fought with
Gods;
Alas, their mighty Preparations,
Made of the Scum of several Nations,
Are not to
France so Formidable,
As are to Us a City Rabble;
You'll find their
Mighty Hopes Defeated,
And
They most
miserably Cheated.
Hold, let's forbear our idle
Tales,
Hes come,—Who is't?—Why Mr.
Sh.—
A precious Man.—Hist, silence there,
At which all instantly forbear,
And looking at the
Ministers,—God bless you, Sir.
His
Surplice on, and then prepare
To
Joyn with him in
Common-Prayer,
Nor
Psalms nor
Prayers does he omit any,
Till coming to that place i'th'
Littany,
Wherein oblig'd
by Name to Pray,
For those who bear the
Sovereign Sway;
He did in's
Prayers no Name put in,
But those of
Gracious King and Queen;
[Page 13] Which
Prayer, no sooner did it reach the
Ears of them all,—but—
We beseech thee,
Echoed more loud by Persons there,
Than the Responce to any
Prayer,
Which in the
Liturgy we read,
From the
Lord's
Prayer to
Nicene Creed.
The
Service done, I then expected
T'ave heard a singing
Psalm directed;
But having got the
Pious Qualms,
Their Souls were not in tune for
Psalms,
For how can ever
Captives bring
Their
Minds into a Frame to Sing?
Tho it is plain that Fetters none
They had, but what themselves put on;
But if they would have tund their throats,
To
Sternholds or to
Hopkins Notes,
It would, according as 'tis reckond,
Have been to
Psalm call'd
Seventy Second,
Lord give thy Judgments to the King,
Therein Instruct him well,
[Page 14] And with his Son that Princely thing,
Lord, let thy Justice dwell.
But now the Priest was to Pulpit gone,
At least to what might pass for one;
After a short Prayer, not
forgetting
Of King and Queen, to mind his
Knitting,
Who with a Zeal most mighty Fervent,
Were thought of by their
suffering Servant;
Remembring likewise most Devoutly,
To
Pray for
Mother Church most stoutly,
The
Church of England, which they fancy,
None out of their Communion can see;
The Church, opprest, distrest and warried,
And in a sence Spiritually carried
Captive away, whilst its
Adorners
Are forc'd to Preach and Pray in Corners.
This done, and th' Audience composing
Themselves for
Hearing, or for
Dozing;
T
[...] a
Bible of
Geneva size,
Himself Devoutly Priest applies,
[Page 15] And from a thousand various Texts,
This part of Scripture strait Selects.
ROM. 13. 1, 2.
Let every Soul be Subject to the Higher Powers, &c.
Whosoever therefore Resisteth the Power, Resisteth the Ordinance of God, and they that Resist, shall receive to themselves Damnation.
The
Text (quoth he) beloved, plainly
Holds forth, that every one should mainly
Strive who should most Enriched be
With the Dear Jewel
Loyalty:
I do not mean the
Counterfeit,
Which every one that Swears can get,
To save their Purses, having a mind;
Theirs is a
Bristol Stone—no
Diamond;
But I do mean that
Sacred Jewel,
Which flattering Arts, nor open Cruelty
[Page 16] of Men, e're with all their Bluster,
Could make it lose its sparkling Lustre;
A Good, by Holy Writ Commended,
With thousand Blessings still attended,
A Virtue which the very Angels
Practise above, or it were strange else,
None of them daring to Rebel,
Since
Lucifer, and his Crew fell,
A Virtue all have here I hopen;
But now my
Text begins to Open.
Let every Soul, &c.
Let every Soul,—Man, Woman, Child
Be with this Holy Virtue fill'd,
For there's not one in all the Nation
Excepted in this Proclamation,
Tho there are thousands senseless Elves,
Who wickedly Except themselves,
And foolishly suppose that they
Were Born to Govern, not Obey;
[Page 17] Ah! Parents, for I must be true t' ye,
And tell you that it is your Duty,
To let your Children hazard at all,
Learn, as just as they can Prattle,
The
Criss-Cross-Row of
Loyalty,
Before they learn their
A. B. C.
Tell 'em the Dignity of
Crown'd Heads,
And make 'em learn to hate the
Round-heads;
Tell'em, there nothing is in Nature,
So. Monstrous as a
Whiggish Creature;
Tell 'em—Nay tell em anything
T' advance the
Glory of a
King;
Indeed 'tis plain without Correction,
That
Loyalty implies
Subjection.
Let every Soul be Subject, &c.
That is, let every Soul be ready,
With a fixt mind, resolv'd and steddy,
[Page 18] To part with Life, Estate, and all,
When e're it is his
Prince's call;
But never let him
Hum and Haw,
And Question if 'tis done by Law,
His Princes Will to him should be
The Rule of
Law and
Equity;
But now Beloved let's Discourse
Of what is meant by Higher Powers.
Let every Soul be Subject to the Higher Powers.
That is, that every Soul should be
Subject alone to Monarchy;
A Government which you and I know,
Most certainly is
jur' Divino,
Above all other Governments,
Which are in
Earths most wide
Extents:
Alas! what man a live is able.
T'endure the Ruling of a Rabble,
[Page 19] But
Common-wealths why should we rob,
Of th' Glory of a Ruling Mob;
Distinctions, they know no other,
Than well met Friend, and hale well Brother;
But amongst all the Ruling Powers
Of Monarchy, there's none like ours;
Isay, not as 'tis now—alas!
My meaning is, as once it was,
When Good King—but I'll leave the rest
By your Good Judgments to be guest,
Whilst in few words I shall Rehearse
The Meaning of the Second Verse:
Whosoever therefore Resisteth, &c.
Beloved, 'tis a dreadful Curse,
But good enough, were't ten times worse,
For those who meddle in
State-matters,
And will be
Kings and
Monarch-haters;
[Page 20] Tho most Men make a Recreation
Of that so common word
Damnation,
But they will all to Hell be Carried,
As sure as
Judas call'd
Iscariot,
Who in the smallest point or thing,
Or thought, Rebel against their King,
To whom the
Title still we give
Of
God's true
Representative;
No wonder then that God is Jealous,
When 'gainst his
Vice Roy they'r Rebellious;
What mighty havock have ye done,
Ye wicked Men of
Forty One;
Nay, I might farther here
rejoyn,
Ye
Belial's
Sons of
Eighty Nine;
Nay
Laugh not, for, for all your
Jearing,
There's not one Barrel better Herring:
Fight 'gainst your King!—How my Blood Curdles?
Have you a mind to lay on Hurdles?
[Page 21] And whether you are Low or High born,
With a
Psalm end your Days at
Tyburn;
But my Belov'd, 'tis plain and clear
That there are no such Persons here,
We are all—
Here a sudden noise,
To silence put the Preachers Voice,
When instantly without much Rabble,
An Officer that's call'd
Constable,
Attended by some
Musqueteers,
Entred the Room and spoil'd their Geers:
Genteels (quoth he) without much Preface,
You all my Prisoners are in the place;
None Answering him upon that Score,
Obedience Passive were all o're;
Some few escap't, but those he guest,
Were but blind Biggots to the rest;
The
Priest too, having slipt off Habit,
Soon got away like Cased Rabit,
[Page 22] The now Detected
Conventiclers,
Who are for
Loyalty such Sticklers,
Were carried 'fore a
Magistrate,
Where little 'twould avail to prate;
The
Oaths were
Tendred, and none willing
To take 'em, each pay
Forty Shilling;
Patient in Suffering with applause,
Not for the
Old, but good
New Cause.
FIIS.
Postscript.
AH me! How great a Cordial's
Hope,
When sawcy
Fear don't interlope?
How sweetly at the
Tett we tipple,
Till
Fear puts Wormwood on the
Nipple?
How hot was t'other day's Discourse,
That mighty Force of Foot and Horse,
Headed by ever Valiant
J—s,
Were come almost to mouth of
Thames;
Nay, some to carry on the Joke,
Swore he would Land at
Puddle-dock;
But
Expectation is a Blessing,
Surmounts the pleasure of
Possessing;
Yet 'tis a question worth Solution,
Who'd gain by such a Revolution?
Unless we think
Ropes, Fire and
Axes,
Are milder things than Modern
Taxes;
Is better than a
Quarter Poll,
And think the Levies of
Commission,
More cruel than the
Inquisition;
If words, of mind, the true Intent is,
These men are sure
Non compos mentis,
And
Bedlam must be sure Enlarg'd,
When 'tis with such
State-blockheads charg'd,
Where they themselves may hourly tickle,
And keep each day a
Conventicle.
ADVERTISEMENT.
CHuse which you will, Liberty or Slavery; or, an Impartial Representation of the Danger of being again Subjected to a Popish Prince.