A Dialogue between two Zealots, upon the &c. in the Oath

Sir Roger , from a zealous piece of Freeze,
Rais'd to a Vicar of the Childrens threes;
Whose yearely Audit may, by strict accompt,
To twenty Nobles and his Vailes amount;
Fed on the Common of the femal charity,
Untill the Scots can bring about their parity;
So shotten, that his soule, like to himselfe,
Walks but in Querpo : This same Clergie Elfe,
Encount'ring with a Brother of the Cloth,
Fell presently to Cudgells with the Oath.
The Quarrell was a strange mis-shapen Monster,
&c. (God blesse us) which they conster,
The Brand upon the buttock of the Beast,
The Dragons taile ti'd on a knot, a neast
Of young Apocryphaes , the fashion
Of a new mentall Reservation.
While Roger thus divides the Text, the other
Winks and expounds, saying, My pious Brother,
Hearken with reverence; for the point is nice,
I never read on't, but I fasted twice,
And so by Revelation know it better
Then all the learn'd Idolaters o' th' Letter.
With that he swell'd, and fell upon the Theame,
Like great Goliah with his Weavers beame:
I say to thee &c. thou li'st,
Thou art the curled locke of Antichrist:
Rubbish of Babell , for who will not say
Tongues are confounded in &c. ?
Who sweares &c. sweares more oathes at once
Then Cerberus out of his Triple Sconce.
Who views it well, with the same eye beholds
The old halfe Serpent in his numerous foulds.
Accurst &c. thou, for now I scent
What the prodigious bloody Oysters meant.
Oh Booker , Booker , how cam'st thou to lack
This Fiend in thy Prophetick Almanack?
It's the darke Vault wherein th' infernall plot
Of powder 'gainst the State was first begot.
Peruse the Oath, and you shall soone descry it
By all the Father Garnets that stand by it.
'Gainst whom the Church, whereof I am a Member,
Shall keep another fifth day of November.
Yet here's not all, I cannot halfe untruss
&c. it's so abdominous.
The Trojan Nag was not so fully lin'd,
Unrip &c. and you shall find
Og the great Commissarie, and which is worse,
Th' Apparatour upon his skew-bald Horse.
Then (finally my Babe of Grace) forbeare,
&c. will be too farre to sweare:
For 'tis (to speake in a familliar stile)
A Yorkshire Wea-bit, longer then a mile.
Here Roger was inspir'd, and by Gods-diggers,
Hee'l sweare in words at large, and not in figures.
Now by this drinke, which he takes off, as loth
To leave &c. in his liquid Oath.
His brother pledg'd him, and that bloody wine,
He swears shall seal the Synods Cataline .
So they drunk on, not offering to part
Til they had quite sworn out th' eleventh quart:
While all that saw and heard them joyntly pray,
They and their Tribe were all &c.
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.