Humble Thanks to his Majesties Gracious Declaration for Liberty of Conscience,
March 15, 1672
London, Printed in the Year 1672.
NO, not one word, can I of this Great Deed,
In Merlin, or 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 poor Amphytrio,
Ken 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
Thrown 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 govern'd the Exchequer, known.
Old Lilly, though he did not love to make
Any words on't, saw the English take
Five of the Smyrna Fleet, and if the Sign
Had been Aquarius, then they'd made them Nine.
When Sagitarus took his aim to shoot
At Bishop Cosin, he espyed him no doubt;
And with such force the winged Arrow flew,
Instead of one Church-Stagg, he killed two;
Glocester and Durham whom he espy'd,
Let Lean and Fat together 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 'tis 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 came for Conscience-Liberty;
When things of Heaven burst from the Royal Breast,
More fragrant than the Spices of the East.
I know in next years Almanack thou'lt write,
Thou saw'st the King in Council over-night,
Before that morn, all sit in Heaven as plain
To be discern'd, as if 'twere Charles Wain,
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-Metropoliton.
Thou saw'st him give induction to a Spittle,
And constitute our Brother TOM-DOE-LITTLE.
In the Bears Paw, and Bulls right Eye,
Some Detriment to Priests thou did'st espy;
And though by Sol in Libra thou didst know
VVhich 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 Huntsmen's 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 Councels are too deep for thee,
And for thy Stars and Dæmons scrutinie,
King CHARLES Return was much above thy skill
To fumble out, as 'twas against thy will.
From 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 K I N G.
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, would undo the Pope.
Yea, though his Vassals should their wealth combine,
To buy Indulgence half so large as thine;
No, if they should not only kiss his Toe,
But Clements's Podex, he'd not let them goe.
Whilst 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 us not (Great Sir) nor think the worts;
For sudden joys, like grief, confound at first:
The splendor of your favour was so bright,
That yet it daz'es 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'nes: 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 would have Musick too, but 'twill 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 them. Yet 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, you 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 our Seas, with Prayers your Sails;
And with Men too, from both our parties; such
I'me sure we have, can cheat, or beat the Dutch.
A thousand Quakersm Sir, our side can spare;
Nay, two or three, for they great Breeders are.
The Church can match us with her Jovial Sirs,
Informers, Singing-men and Parraters.
Let the King try, set these upon the Decks
Together, they will Dutch or Devil vex.
Their Breath will mischief further then a Gun,
And if you loose them, you'l not be undone.
Pardon, dread Sir, nay pardon thos coarse Paper,
Your License 'twas made this poor Poet caper.
LONDON, Printed in the Year, 1672.
Dr Wild's Humble Thanks to his Majesties Gracious Declaration for Liberty of Conscience, March 15, 1672 (London, 1672) – ed. Olaf Simons, 13 Jun 2006.