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<DATE>07-01-08</DATE>
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<NAME>Mona Logarbo</NAME>
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<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="B06739">
<STC T="W">W706</STC>
<BIBNO T="umi">99884947</BIBNO>
<VID>182719</VID>
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<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="poem">
<PB REF="1" MS="y">
<HEAD><GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="page cropped" EXTENT="1 letter">n Ingenious Contention, by way of Letter, Between Mr. Wanly, a &s;on of the Church; &amp; Dr. Wild, a Nonconformi&s;t.</HEAD>
<SP>
<STAGE><GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="page cropped" EXTENT="2 letters">Dr. Nathan Wanley <HI>to Dr.</HI> Wild, <HI>who was laid a&s;ide for Nonconformity.</HI></STAGE>
<LG>
<L>SO the bright Taper u&s;ele&s;s burns</L>
<L>To private and recluded Urns.</L>
<L>So Pearls them&s;elves to &s;hels confine,</L>
<L>And Gems in the Seas bottom &s;hine,</L>
<L>thou my <HI>VVILD</HI> while thou do&s;t lye</L>
<L><GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="page cropped" EXTENT="1 letter">uddled up in thy privacy,</L>
<L><GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="page cropped" EXTENT="1 letter">nd only now and then do&s;t &s;end</L>
<L><GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="page cropped" EXTENT="1 word"> Letter to thy private Friend;</L>
<L><GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="page cropped" EXTENT="1 letter">ake once again thy Lyre, and &s;o</L>
<L><GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="page cropped" EXTENT="1 letter">et thy &s;elected Numbers flow,</L>
<L>As when thy &s;olemn Mu&s;e did prove</L>
<L>To &s;ing the Funeral of Love;</L>
<L>Or, as when with the Trump of fame</L>
<L>Thou did&s;t &s;ound forth great <HI>George</HI>'s name,</L>
<L>In &s;uch a &s;train, as might it be,</L>
<L>Did &s;peak thy &s;elf as great as he.</L>
<L>For while great <HI>Cowley</HI> &s;eeks the &s;hade,</L>
<L>And <HI>Denham's</HI> noble Wit's mi&s;laid;</L>
<L>When <HI>Davnant</HI>'s weary Quill lies by,</L>
<L>And yeelds no more of <HI>Lombardy;</HI></L>
<L>While the &s;weet Virgin <HI>Mu&s;es</HI> be</L>
<L>By <HI>Wild</HI> led int' a Nunnerie;</L>
<L>While thus <HI>Apollo</HI>'s Prie&s;ts retire,</L>
<L>The Females do begin t' a&s;pire,</L>
<L>Pretending they have found a flaw</L>
<L>In great <HI>Apollo</HI>'s Salique Law;</L>
<L>The&s;e gra&s;p at Lawrel, only due</L>
<L>To &s;uch as I have nam'd, and you.</L>
</LG>
</SP>
<SP>
<STAGE><HI>Dr.</HI> Wild <HI>to the Ingenious Mr.</HI> Wanley.</STAGE>
<LG>
<L>WHat jolly Shepherds voice is this</L>
<L>Would tempt me from my private bli&s;s</L>
<L>After his Pipe to dance, while Thunder</L>
<L>Threatens to rend that Oak in &s;under,</L>
<L>Under who&s;e boughs in fairer dayes</L>
<L>We &s;ate &s;ecure, and &s;ang the prai&s;e</L>
<L>Of <GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="damage" EXTENT="1 letter">ur great <HI>Pan,</HI> who&s;e care did keep</L>
<L>The plea&s;ant Shepherds and their Sheep?</L>
<L>Is this a time with wanton &s;trains</L>
<L>To whi&s;tle forth the Nymps and Swains</L>
<L>To &s;port and dance, while Wolf and Fox</L>
<L>Lye lurking to devour our Flocks,</L>
<L>And <HI>Romes Sheep-&s;tealers</HI> ready &s;tand</L>
<L>To give them their <HI>red letters</HI> brand?</L>
<L>Do&s;t thou not know, my &s;anguine Son,</L>
<L>What th' <HI>Plague</HI> and <HI>Fire</HI> have lately done&punc;</L>
<L><HI>London</HI> hath &s;ent up &s;uch a &s;moke,</L>
<L>As may the Angels voices choak,</L>
<L>And make tears big enough, to vent</L>
<L>Tears in a deluge, to lament</L>
<L>The <HI>raging fury</HI> of that <HI>Flame,</HI></L>
<L>But more of tho&s;e that <HI>made</HI> the &s;ame.</L>
<L>And when St. <HI>Paul</HI> has lo&s;t his <HI>Quire,</HI></L>
<L>'Twere Sacriledge to touch my <HI>Lyre.</HI></L>
<L>None but a mon&s;ter <HI>Nero</HI> may</L>
<L>Over a <HI>burning City</HI> play.</L>
<L>Nor would I &s;ing, were I a <HI>Jew,</HI></L>
<L>To plea&s;e a <HI>Babyloni&s;h Crew.</HI></L>
<L>Now &s;ince the time for &s;orrow cryes,</L>
<L>In this I freely temporize.</L>
<L>So the bright Starrs draw in their light,</L>
<L>When Clouds club for an ugly night.</L>
<L>So all the Birds of Mu&s;ick &s;leep</L>
<L>On &s;tormy dayes, and &s;ilence keep,</L>
<L>So fro&s;t-nipt Ro&s;es droop and fall,</L>
<L>Perfuming their own funerall.</L>
<L>So you have &s;een a well-tun'd <HI>Lyre</HI></L>
<L>Swelling it &s;elf with grief and ire.</L>
<L>In gloomy air, each heart-broke &s;tring</L>
<L>Its own la&s;t pa&s;&s;ing-bell doth ring.</L>
<L>So when <HI>Bellona's</HI> Trumpet &s;ounds,</L>
<L>Our <HI>&s;ofter Mu&s;es</HI> Mu&s;ick drownds.</L>
<L>Sir, by my many <HI>&s;oes</HI> you know</L>
<L>My Poetry is but <HI>&s;o &s;o.</HI></L>
<L>But why do&s;t thou di&s;dain or fear,</L>
<L>That <HI>Female</HI> brows &s;hould Lawrel wear?</L>
<L>Ha&s;t thou forgot that Noble Tree</L>
<L><GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="damage" EXTENT="2 letters">&s;elf was made out of a <HI>&s;hee?</HI></L>
<L>The Mu&s;es and the Graces all</L>
<L>We of the <HI>Female Gender</HI> call,</L>
<L>And &s;o if you have not more care,</L>
<L>You'l find they <HI>Furies</HI> likewi&s;e are.</L>
<L><GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="damage" EXTENT="1 word"> would I have you wonder why</L>
<L><GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="damage" EXTENT="1 span">s <HI>all amort</HI> do lye,</L>
<L>When <HI>Claret</HI> and <HI>Canary</HI> cea&s;e,</L>
<L>The Wits will quickly hold their peace.</L>
<L><HI>Vintners</HI> and <HI>Poets</HI> fall together,</L>
<L>If once the <HI>Ivy-Garland</HI> wither.</L>
<L>Sweet <HI>Cowly</HI> thought (as well he might)</L>
<L>He &s;hould have &s;hin'd in <HI>Phoebus</HI> &s;ight;</L>
<L>But Clouds appear'd, and he that made</L>
<L>Account of <HI>Juno,</HI> found a &s;hade;</L>
<L>And though on <HI>Davids Harp</HI> he plaid,</L>
<L>The <HI>evil Spirit</HI> can't be laid:</L>
<L>Therefore the Groves and Shades he loves,</L>
<L>And his own Secretary proves.</L>
<L>Your next mans temples Lawrel &s;corns,</L>
<L>Since greater pride his brow<GAP DESC="illegible" EXTENT="1 letter"> ado<GAP DESC="illegible" EXTENT="1 letter">ns.</L>
<L>He to <HI>Perna&s;s.</HI> bears no g<GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="under-inked" EXTENT="2 letters">d will,</L>
<L>Becau&s;e it proves a <HI>horned hill.</HI></L>
<L>The very thoughts whereof I dread</L>
<L>Will ne're be got out of his head.</L>
<L><HI>Gondebert</HI>'s &s;ilent, I &s;uppo&s;e,</L>
<L>Becau&s;e his Mu&s;e &s;ings <HI>through the no&s;e,</HI></L>
<L>One &s;yllable of which poor he</L>
<L>Did lo&s;e by an <HI>Apocope.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Wild</HI> &s;ayes, Kind <HI>Wanley</HI> you'r to blame,</L>
<L>Among&s;t the&s;e <HI>Swans</HI> his <HI>Goo&s;e</HI> to name,</L>
<L>Yea though his lucky <HI>gagling yaul</HI></L>
<L>Once helpt to &s;ave one <HI>Capital;</HI></L>
<L>His <HI>love</HI> to <HI>Love</HI> then made him fear</L>
<L>His <HI>neck,</HI> not <HI>brow,</HI> a Wreath &s;hould wear.</L>
<L>Next he did on a Loyal &s;tring</L>
<L>His <HI>Georgicks</HI> and his <HI>Carols</HI> &s;ing.</L>
<L>But now becau&s;e he cannot toot</L>
<L>To <HI>Organ tunes,</HI> he's made a <HI>mute;</HI></L>
<L>And though alive, condemn'd to death:</L>
<L>Therefore, <HI>dear Sir,</HI> in vain your breath,</L>
<L>Although perfum'd and hot does come,</L>
<L>To blow wind in a <HI>dead mans bumb;</HI></L>
<L>Yet, as a grateful Legacy,</L>
<L>He leaves to thee his <HI>Nunnery,</HI></L>
<L>Not doubting but if need require</L>
<L>Thou'lt prove an <HI>able loving Fryar.</HI></L>
</LG>
</SP>
<SP>
<STAGE>2. Mr. <HI>Wanley</HI> to Dr. <HI>Wild.</HI></STAGE>
<LG>
<L>WHat &s;ullen wary Shepherds voice is this,</L>
<L>That won't be tempted from his private bli&s;s,</L>
<L>But arbor'd up in <HI>Eglantine,</HI> while Thunder</L>
<L>Threatens to rend &amp; rive that <HI>Oak</HI> in &s;under,</L>
<L>Under who&s;e boughs him&s;elf in fairer dayes</L>
<L>Did &s;it &s;ecure with us, and &s;ang the prai&s;e</L>
<L>Of that <HI>great Pan,</HI> who&s;e watchful care did <HI>keep</HI></L>
<L>At once the plea&s;ant Shepherd &amp; his Sheep?</L>
<L>Is this a time for Shepherds to retreat,</L>
<L>And &s;eek out <HI>Coverts</HI> from the <HI>&s;corching heat?</HI></L>
<L>Is this a time for an <HI>inglorious &s;loth</HI></L>
<L>To hug it &s;elf, not daring to peep forth</L>
<L>Into the open field, while th' <HI>crafty Fox</HI></L>
<L>Lurks in the bu&s;hes to devour our <HI>Flocks,</HI></L>
<L>And <HI>Wolves</HI> of <HI>Romulus</HI> are grown &s;o bold,</L>
<L>To fright the &s;illy Sheep ev'n in their Fold?</L>
<L>Do&s;t thou not know what <HI>crops</HI> the <HI>Plague</HI> has made</L>
<L>And, <HI>Samp&s;on</HI>-like, <HI>heaps upon heaps</HI> has laid?</L>
<L>That if Heavens wrathful Anger thus proceed,</L>
<L>There will no Flocks be left for thee to feed.</L>
<L><HI>London</HI> has &s;ent up &s;uch a darkning &s;moak,</L>
<L>And &s;hall it too the Angels voices choak?</L>
<L>Shall it make Clouds &s;o thick and dark, that we</L>
<L>Shall never more thy publick Cen&s;ers &s;ee?</L>
<L>'Tis <HI>Sacriledge</HI> to rob the Church; and thence</L>
<L>Since you have &s;tole your &s;elf, whats your offence?</L>
<L>When the <HI>white Harve&s;t</HI> for <HI>more Reapers</HI> cryes,</L>
<L>How can&s;t thou freely &s;it and <HI>temporize?</HI></L>
<L>So Stars re&s;erve them&s;elves for pitchy night,</L>
<L>When <HI>Phoebus</HI> pouders all his locks with light.</L>
<L>So <HI>feral</HI> Birds delight to &s;it alone,</L>
<L>Till the dayes glories are packt up and gone.</L>
<L>So Ro&s;es fall in <HI>June</HI> when fro&s;ts are pa&s;t,</L>
<L>And on dull earth lye blu&s;hing out their la&s;t</L>
<L>So the Mu&s;ician &s;mothers his <HI>Sol fa,</HI></L>
<L>When he's entreated or to &s;ing or play.</L>
<L>So when the fierce <HI>Bellona's</HI> Drums do beat,</L>
<L>Who has no mind to fight, &s;eeks his retreat.</L>
<L>And &s;o I've &s;een a long mi&s;wonted Lyre</L>
<L>Sigh its own Dirge with its own broken wire,</L>
<L>And &s;eems to &s;hiv'r at th' <HI>downfal</HI> of <HI>Pauls quire.</HI></L>
<L>Say we not well, A gues will have their cour&s;e?</L>
<L>Yes, yes, they mu&s;t remember with remor&s;e</L>
<L>The <HI>Ivy Garland's</HI> withering, dearth of Liquer.</L>
<L>That would make <HI>Caput Mortuum</HI> the quicker.</L>
<L>But why &s;hould&s;t thou, kind &s;oul, be in &s;uch fear,</L>
<L>That plump <HI>Lyc&euml;us</HI> &s;hould grow lean this year?</L>
<L>Ha&s;t thou forgot how fatal the Grape-&s;tone</L>
<L>Did whilom prove to poor <HI>Anacreon?</HI></L>
<L>Which of the <HI>Mu&s;es,</HI> or the <HI>Graces</HI> all,</L>
<L>Did ere for <HI>Claret</HI> or <HI>Canary</HI> call?</L>
<L>Is it not &s;ung by the <HI>Venetian</HI> Swain</L>
<L>How the brisk Wine gives <HI>horns</HI> to the poor man?</L>
<L>And if you have not greater care, no doubt</L>
<L>You'l find the <HI>Claret</HI> will revive your <HI>Gout,</HI></L>
<L>And then we &s;hall hear thy <HI>Goo&s;e-gagling</HI> yaul</L>
<L>Cry out for help to &s;ave thy <HI>Pede&s;tall;</HI></L>
<L>Then we &s;hall &s;ee thee, &s;tanding on one foot,</L>
<L>Practi&s;e wor&s;e tunes than <HI>Organs</HI> ever root.</L>
<L>This is a vain pre&s;age, thou &s;ay'&s;t; the Dead</L>
<L>Have out-liv'd this and have <HI>no Gout</HI> to dread.</L>
<L>But art thou dead indeed? Though dead thou art,</L>
<L>Heark how the <HI>dead mans bum</HI> does let a <HI>fart.</HI></L>
<L>When as my ba&s;hful Mu&s;e did to thee come,</L>
<L>'Twas not &s;o kindly done to turn thy <HI>bum;</HI></L>
<L>To vote her of the <HI>Babyloni&s;h Crew;</HI></L>
<L>And &s;et the <HI>Furies</HI> on her with <HI>ha-loo.</HI></L>
<L>This 'tis to gad abroad, 'tis ju&s;t upon her;</L>
<L>Had <HI>Dina</HI> kept at home, &s;hee'd &s;av'd her <HI>Honour.</HI></L>
<L>But I'm <HI>thy Son,</HI> and mu&s;t corrected be;</L>
<L>But why then do&s;t thou turn thy <HI>bum</HI> to me?</L>
<L>Do&s;t think thy Son &s;o <HI>&s;anguine</HI> &amp; <HI>in&s;ano,</HI></L>
<L>To probe thee with a Fi&s;tula <HI>in Ano.</HI></L>
<L>This I &s;hould leave to any of the <HI>Crew,</HI></L>
<L>You may believe me though I were a <HI>Jew.</HI></L>
<L>And may my breath be &s;till perfum'd, why not?</L>
<L>Since dead Corps &s;mell when they begin to rot.</L>
<L>And he who&s;e Mu&s;e &s;uch wondrous heights did fly,</L>
<L>That it did &s;eem to top the very Sky;</L>
<L>And though he may have rea&s;on to be proud,</L>
<L>In&s;tead of <HI>Juno</HI> did imbrace a Cloud;</L>
<L>May he re&s;ume King <HI>Davids Harp</HI> and play</L>
<L>The <HI>Tarantul</HI>' of di&s;content away.</L>
<L>If <HI>Denham</HI> has &s;o fouly been betray'd,</L>
<L>And his <HI>Inclo&s;ure</HI> 'gain&s;t his will <HI>&s;urvey'd:</HI></L>
<L>May he recover all his Wits and more,</L>
<L>And with &s;uch keen <HI>Iambicks</HI> brand the <HI>Whore,</HI></L>
<L>That all may dread it wor&s;e than lo&s;s of life,</L>
<L>To turn a Poet <HI>frantick</HI> for his <HI>Wife.</HI></L>
<L>Poor <HI>Davenant's No&s;e</HI> it &s;eems is grown &s;o &s;ore,</L>
<L>It &s;carcely will abide one &s;mart Je&s;t more.</L>
<L>Well may the <HI>bridge</HI> be down, when Time doth meet</L>
<L>To pre&s;s it with his <HI>Satyr</HI> cloven-feet.</L>
<L>And thou with thy <HI>Apocopes</HI> art wont</L>
<L>To &s;catter balls of thy <HI>Wild-fire</HI> upon't.</L>
<L>But &s;hall I not, <HI>kind Wild,</HI> remember thee,</L>
<L>Who ha&s;t bequeath'd me &s;uch a <HI>Legacie?</HI></L>
<L>'Tis thine for life, we know thy &s;ubtile head;</L>
<L><HI>Wills</HI> have no force till the <HI>Te&s;tator</HI>'s dead;</L>
<L>And that none can have ought by thy beque&s;t</L>
<L>Till thou art better dead than in a Je&s;t:</L>
<L>Nor would I that in tenderne&s;s to me</L>
<L>Thou &s;hould&s;t &s;u&s;pect thine own &s;ufficiencie;</L>
<L>Enjoy it freely, &s;ince thou ha&s;t it wed:</L>
<L>'Tis Ince&s;t to a&s;cend the Fathers bed.</L>
<L>What though thou own&s;t me for thy <HI>&s;anguine Child,</HI></L>
<L>Yet I have not &s;o much my <HI>Sire</HI> of <HI>Wild.</HI></L>
<L>And thus far is thy <HI>Fry'r</HI> able to &s;ee</L>
<L>His <HI>Covent</HI>'s better than thy <HI>Nunnerie.</HI></L>
<L>He's <HI>loving</HI> too, 'tis true, he nothing gives,</L>
<L>As thou, at his decea&s;e, but while he lives</L>
<L>All the&s;e <HI>good wi&s;hes,</HI> &s;uch as he can &s;pare,</L>
<L>And if thou ha&s;t them, will help mend thy fare.</L>
<L>May every Knight about us, that's inclind,</L>
<L>Be unto thee, as Sir <HI>John Baber,</HI> kind.</L>
<L><HI>Ten</HI> Silver <HI>Crowns</HI> let each of them &s;end thee,</L>
<L>And be &s;o paid for all in <HI>Ver&s;e</HI> as he.</L>
<L>May the <HI>poor Scholar</HI> ne're want <HI>Sundays Pudding,</HI></L>
<L>When he's not like to <HI>preach</HI> for't <HI>on the &s;udden.</HI></L>
<L>May thy afflicted <HI>Toe</HI> ne're feel the <HI>Gout;</HI></L>
<L>Or if it mu&s;t, let the <HI>Dutch</HI> have a <HI>Rout;</HI></L>
<L>That thou mai&s;t yet (at lea&s;t) once more prote&s;t</L>
<L>That <HI>Recipe</HI> wants no <HI>Probatum e&s;t.</HI></L>
<L>Mai&s;t thou next &s;end me what is worth thy Pen;</L>
<L>May I have brains to an&s;wer it agen.</L>
<L>May all that are of &s;uch <HI>good wi&s;hes</HI> &s;ullen,</L>
<L>Live till their good Friends bury them in <HI>Woollen.</HI></L>
</LG>
</SP>
<SP>
<STAGE>Dr. <HI>Wild</HI> to Mr. <HI>Wanley.</HI></STAGE>
<LG>
<L>HOne&s;tly done however, though the Stuff</L>
<L>You &s;ent be <HI>cour&s;e,</HI> the mea&s;ures <HI>large enough.</HI></L>
<L>The fir&s;t Cup thou began&s;t I could not pa&s;s,</L>
<L>The Wine was brisk, and in a little gla&s;s.</L>
<L>But now to pledge thee I am not enclin'd,</L>
<L>You <HI>Sons o'th Church</HI> are for <HI>large draughts</HI> I find.</L>
<L>Prithee leave off, for thou ha&s;t been &s;o free</L>
<L>In &s;ending &s;uch a <HI>brimmer</HI> unto me,</L>
<L>That Sunday la&s;t, long of that frolick bout,</L>
<L>Thy Pari&s;h bad but <HI>half a gla&s;s</HI> I doubt.</L>
<L>Be&s;ides the drink <HI>is &s;mall,</HI> you've chang'd your <HI>gill,</HI></L>
<L>I wi&s;h you'd kept it in your <HI>hogs-head</HI> &s;till.</L>
<L>Yet, upon better thoughts, <HI>&s;mall drink</HI> is fit</L>
<L>To cool the &s;tomack, though not help the wit;</L>
<L>And that might be thy ca&s;e: for certainly</L>
<L>Tho&s;e <HI>&s;alt bits</HI> I had &s;ent thee <HI>made thee dry,</HI></L>
<L>Or <HI>&s;ick,</HI> which made thee drink <HI>&s;mall drink,</HI> and &s;train</L>
<L>To ca&s;t them undige&s;ted up again.</L>
<L>Twelve lines return'd the very &s;ame, that I</L>
<L>Mu&s;t call the <HI>Hickup,</HI> rather than <HI>Reply;</HI></L>
<L>Or, by rebounding of my words, I dread</L>
<L>There is &s;ome <HI>Eccho</HI> in thine <HI>empty head:</HI></L>
<L>Or rather thou my <HI>Cockril</HI> art, and &s;o</L>
<L>The <HI>young one learneth of the old to crow.</HI></L>
<L>Nay, my brave Bird, thou dare&s;t &s;pur and peck,</L>
<L>I wi&s;h that <HI>Shrovetide</HI> hazard not thy <HI>neck.</HI></L>
<L>Now prithee <HI>Chick</HI> beware, for though I find</L>
<L>That thou art <HI>right</HI> and of the <HI>fighting kind,</HI></L>
<L>Yet thou art not my <HI>Match,</HI> and &s;oon wilt feel</L>
<L>My Gout lies in my <HI>Toe,</HI> not in my <HI>Heel.</HI></L>
<L>Take this advice before you mean to fight,</L>
<L>Get your <HI>Comb cut,</HI> and leave your <HI>treading</HI> quite.</L>
<L>Thy Barber, or his Wife, if he &s;hould fail,</L>
<L>Has skill to <HI>clip thy wings,</HI> and <HI>trim thy tayl;</HI></L>
<L>And thereby hangs another Tayl, I find</L>
<L>Thy <HI>&s;ubtile no&s;e</HI> hath got my <HI>breech i'th' wind.</HI></L>
<L>If thou can&s;t catch <HI>poor farts</HI> that Pri&s;on break,</L>
<L>A notable <HI>Bumbayliff</HI> thou wilt make.</L>
<L>Hark, hark, &s;ai&s;t thou, <HI>he let a fart!</HI> what though?</L>
<L>It breaths forth <HI>no Sedition,</HI> Sir, I trow;</L>
<L>Nor is there any Statute of our Nation</L>
<L>That &s;ayes, in <HI>five miles</HI> of a <HI>Corporation</HI></L>
<L>If any <HI>Outed-man</HI> a Fart &s;hould vent,</L>
<L>That you &s;hould apprehend the <HI>Innocent.</HI></L>
<L>If you &s;o &s;oon could &s;mell the <HI>Pouder-Plot,</HI></L>
<L>What had you &s;aid if I had <HI>bullets</HI> &s;hot?</L>
<L>Fye man! our <HI>mouths</HI> were &s;topped long ago.</L>
<L>And would you have us &s;ilent too <HI>below?</HI></L>
<L>But I di&s;plaid <HI>my bum</HI> before <HI>thine eyes</HI></L>
<L><HI>Unkindly</HI> thou &s;ai&s;t, I &s;ay otherwi&s;e;</L>
<L>For there thou might&s;t have thy <HI>re&s;emblance</HI> took,</L>
<L>Dead mens blind cheeks do very <HI>Wanley</HI> look.</L>
<L>And for the <HI>crack</HI> it gave, that did but mind thee</L>
<L>To &s;trive to leave a <HI>good report behind</HI> thee.</L>
<L>As for the <HI>gall</HI> which in your Ink appears,</L>
<L>That <HI>in our Sufferings we are Volunteers;</HI></L>
<L>I'le not &s;ay much, I have more wit than &s;o,</L>
<L>'<HI>Tis &s;curvy jesting with edg-tools</HI> I know:</L>
<L>But Sir, 'tis cruelty in you, <HI>to whip</HI></L>
<L>Your <HI>Brothers back</HI> which you did <HI>help to &s;trip:</HI></L>
<L>Yet thus your Grand&s;ire <HI>Levi</HI> did before,</L>
<L>Who <HI>kild tho&s;e,</HI> whom his <HI>Cov'nant had made &s;ore.</HI></L>
<L>And you know who they were that gave the blow,</L>
<L>And then cry'd, <HI>Prophe&s;ie who &s;mote thee &s;o?</HI></L>
<L>We dur&s;t not keep our Livings for our lives,</L>
<L>But <HI>they mu&s;t needs go whom the Devil drives.</HI></L>
<L>Yea, <HI>but we left our Harve&s;t, left our Sheep,</HI></L>
<L>And, <HI>would not work, in one, nor th' other keep.</HI></L>
<L>I an&s;wer. No great Harve&s;t yet appears,</L>
<L>I'm &s;ure your Churches hang but <HI>thin</HI> with ears.</L>
<L>And though the <HI>Foxes</HI> breed, what need you care,</L>
<L>When-as your Shepherds &s;uch <HI>Fox-catchers</HI> are.</L>
<L>For pardon, Sir, my &s;erious &s;oul now cryes,</L>
<L>Your knocking me did make this froth to ri&s;e.</L>
<L><HI>Once</HI> for my Age, Profe&s;&s;ion and Degree,</L>
<L>To fool thus is enough, and <HI>Twice</HI> for thee.</L>
<L>Thus great E&s;tates b'imprudent owners may,</L>
<L>When &s;tak'd at Ticktack, &s;oon be plaid away.</L>
<L>Let's wind this folly up in this la&s;t &s;heet,</L>
<L>And <HI>friendly part,</HI> as we did <HI>friendly meet.</HI></L>
<L>Yet, to requite thy <HI>Legacy</HI> to me,</L>
<L>Accept this <HI>Litany</HI> I &s;end to thee.</L>
<L><HI>May thy rich Parts with &s;aving Grace be joyn'd,</HI></L>
<L><HI>As Diamonds in Rings of Gold en&s;hrin'd;</HI></L>
<L><HI>May he that made thy Stars, create a Sphear</HI></L>
<L><HI>Of heavenly frame of life, and fix them there;</HI></L>
<L><HI>May that blest Life credit</HI> Conformitie,</L>
<L><HI>And make e'ven</HI> Puritans <HI>to honour thee.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Mai&s;t thou to Christ &s;uch &s;tore of Converts brings,</HI></L>
<L><HI>That he who&s;e place thou fill'st, for joy may &s;ing.</HI></L>
<L><HI>May God love you, and you love God again;</HI></L>
<L><HI>And may the&s;e Prayers of mine not be in vain.</HI></L>
</LG>
</SP>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="colophon">
<P><HI>London,</HI> Printed in the Year, 1668.</P>
</DIV1>
</BACK>
</TEXT>
</EEBO>
</ETS>
