THE
PROCLAMATION Promoted,
OR AN
HUE-and-CRY and Inquisition
AFTER
TREASON and BLOOD;
Upon the Inhumane and horrid Murder of that Noble Knight, Impartial
Justice of Peace, and Zealous Protestant,
Sir EDMOND BERRY GODFRY of WESTMINSTER.
An hasty POEM.
|
O Murder! Murder! let this Shreik fly round,
|
Till Hills and Dales, and Rocks and Shores rebound.
|
Send it to Heaven and Hell; for both will be
|
Astonished and Concernd as much as we.
|
First send to Endor where of old did dwell
|
And Hagg, could Fates of Kings and Kingdoms tell.
|
If that cannot be found, to Ekron go,
|
To Plutos Oracle and Hell below.
|
There serve this Hue and Cry, for there twas hatchd,
|
(Except the Priests their Gods have over-matchd.)
|
Methinks Belzebub, if he be outdone
|
In his Grand Misteries; and Rome needs none
|
Of his Black Arts, but can Out-Devil Hell,
|
His Envy and Revenge this Plot should tell:
|
And by disclosing in his own defence,
|
Not only vindicate his Innocence,
|
But hasten their destruction, and prevent
|
Loss of his Trade, (the Jesuites intent.)
|
Unless he fears them, as indeed he may;
|
When once in Hell, none shall Command but they.
|
But if this Tragedy be all his own,
|
And Roman Actors (taught by him) have shown
|
How they can play all parts he can devise;
|
Female or Male, with or without disguise:
|
And need no Cacodoemons prompting Art
|
Or Whisper, but can fill up any part.
|
Fast, Pray and Weep, Swear and Forswear, Decoy,
|
Trappan, Kiss, Flatter, Smile, and so Destroy.
|
Stab, Pistol, Poison Kings, Unking, Dethrone,
|
Blow up or down, Save, Damn, make all their own.
|
Knows not he then, tho founder of the Stage,
|
The Laws of Theatres in every Age.
|
That th Actors, not the Author of the Play,
|
Do challenge the Rewards of the first day.
|
Make then their names renownd, and come to hide
|
Such Children of thy Revels and thy Pride.
|
Send to their Father, and thy eldest Son
|
That Lucifer of Rome, what feats theyve done:
|
That he may make their names be understood,
|
Written in Kalenders of Martyrs Blood.
|
But if the Fiends below be Deaf and Dumb,
|
And this conjuring cannot overcome;
|
They and their Imps be damnd together: I
|
To Gods on Earth will send my Hue and Cry.
|
Arise Just Charles, Three Kingdoms Soul and mine,
|
Great James thy Grandfather could well divine;
|
And without Spell the bloody Riddle Spell,
|
Writ by like Secretaries of Rome and Hell.
|
And if Thy Proclamation cannot do,
|
We pray Gods Spirit may inspire Thee too.
|
If Thy Prophetick Usher did not err,
|
The Mass would enter by a Massacre.
|
The Wounds Thy Godfry found were meant for Thee,
|
And Thou lyst Murderd in Effigie.
|
In Gods Kings Kingdoms Cause this Knight was slain,
|
Let him a Noble Monument obtain;
|
Erected in Your Westminsters great Hall,
|
That Courts of Justice may lament his Fall:
|
And may (when any Papist cometh near)
|
His Marble Statue yield a bloudy tear.
|
Yet let him not be buried, let him lie,
|
The fairest Image to draw Justice by.
|
There needs no Balm or Spices to preserve
|
The Corps from Stench, his Innocence will serve.
|
Ye Lords and Commons joyn your speedy Votes,
|
A Pack of Bloud-Hounds threaten all your Throats.
|
And if their Treason be not understood,
|
Expect to be dissolvd in your own Blood.
|
O Vote that every Papist (high and low)
|
To martyrd Godfrys Corps in person go;
|
And laying hand upon his wounded Brest,
|
By Oath and Curse his ignorance protest.
|
But oh the Atheisme of that Monstrous Crew,
|
Whose Holy Father can all Bonds undo:
|
Whose Breath can put away the heaviest Oath;
|
Who fears no Heaven nor Hell, but laughs at both.
|
Therefore a safer Vote my Muse suggests,
|
For Priests and Jesuites can swallow Tests
|
As Hocus Pocus doth his Rope or Knife,
|
And cheats the gaping Farmer and his Wife.
|
Oh Vote each Sign-post shall a Gibbet be,
|
And hang a Traytor upon every Tree.
|
Yet wele find Wood enough for Bone-fire piles,
|
T inlighten and inflame our Brittish Isles
|
Upon th approaching fifth November night,
|
And make Incendiaries curse the light.
|
November Fires Septembers may reveal,
|
One Burn (we say) another Burn will heal.
|
Lastly, And surely let this Hue and Cry
|
Reach Heaven, where every Star looks like an Eye
|
To that High Court of Parliament above,
|
Whose Laws are mixt with Justice and with Love.
|
Whither Just Godfrys Souls already come,
|
And hath receivd the Crown of Martyrdome.
|
Where murderd Kings and slaughterd Saints do cry,
|
Their Blood may never unrevenged lie.
|
Ye Saints and Angels hate that Scarlet Whore,
|
Whose Priests and Bratts before your Shrines adore,
|
And in their Massacres your Aid implore;
|
Staining your Altars with the precious Gore:
|
Pour down your Vials on their Cursed heads,
|
And in Eternal flames prepare their Beds.
|
And Thou Judge Jesus Hangd and Murderd too,
|
By Power of Rome and Malice of the Jew,
|
In Godfrys Wounds Thine own do bleed anew.
|
Oh Rend Thy Heavens! Come Lord and take Thy Throne,
|
Revenge Thy Martyrs Murder and Thine own.
|
|
|
|
|
|