Mercury's MESSAGE, OR THE copy OF A LETTER sent to William Laud late Archbishop of Canterbury, now prisoner in the Tower.  

PROV. 11. 10.  
When it fares well with righteous men,  
The City is glad and joyful then:  
But when with Wicked it fares ill,  
there's none of them, take pity will,   

JOB. 27. 23.  
Clapping of hands with joy there is apace,  
Hissing them out of there great Lordly place.   

JOB. 32. 9  
The great ones are not always wise,  
Who in great pomp and state do rise.   
Printed in the year, of our Prelates fear. 1641.   


REVELL. 13. 16.  
The man that understanding hath  
Behold and see, the Scripture saith  
The number of the Beast is numbered  
And comes unto the sum Six hundred  
Sixty and six: the name here writ amounts  
Unto the same if we do rightly count.   

The beasts number 
 The man's name 
 is the world's wonder 
 With beasts the same  W 10 L 50 I 1 A 0 L 50 V 5 L 50 D 500 666.  

Revelat. 19 20.  
Into the lake the beast was cast  
Which never dies: but everlasting lasts  
It burns with brimstone and with fire,  
According to God's dreadful ire.    

TO The late famous, now Infamous Archbishop, WILLIAM, a Canterbury.  
MY LORD,  

I Call you what, not long ago you were,  
But now those golden days are past I fear,  
And so doth all the drooping hierarchy  
Of Lordly Bishops, that ere while so high,  
Bore up theirs heads to show themselves superiors,  
And proudly trod upon their poor inferiors.  
How did you domineer in your vain pride  
Whilst in prosperity you did abide,  
With envious Rage, and foul maliciousness,  
Striving to bring God's people in distress  
Down went all painful and laborious teaching,  
The Service book more useful was, then preaching  
In your account, having an Inclination  
With Popish rites to blind our British nation.  
But men of sounder Judgement know full well,  
That God's pure word man's wisdom doth excel  
And yet for soothe your will being a Law,  
Men better than yourself, you kept in awe  
Well, next our weekly Lectures liked you not,  
To put down them your zeal was wondrous hot.  
It seems your Lordship had conceivid a thought,  
And feared poor Ignorants would too much be taught,  
And so your soul deludements learn to see,  
When with rooms 〈◊〉 doth no whit agree;  
Else you might think, with plenty being fed,  
They might have loathed that heavenly bread,  
For men by Solomon's rule may 〈◊〉 get  
If finding honey, they too much on't eat.  
Therefore your Grace took a sure course for such,  
Y''ve rather see them starve then have too much  
But now the Sabbath day in your esteem  
Is kept too strictly, this a fault you deem,  
For squaring thus our actions by God's word  
We with the Papists never should accord  
Therefore by smooth, false, base Insinuation  
You did persuade the King by Proclamation  
To give his subjects leave to sport and play  
In spite of all gainsayers on that day:  
This done, one Sermon must content us to  
And that but one hour long, for if men do  
Exceed their time prescribed, tho their intention  
Be ne'er so good, they may expect suspension:  
In all which did not we Religion fly,  
With room observe a sweet close sympathy.  
But is this all; no, Altars next you raise,  
And waxen Tapers must upon them blaze;  
Yea in these heaps of Stone such worth is found.  
That passers by must bow to'em down tothth' ground:  
Is Jesus with a large pronunciation  
Uttered by some time serveed being the fashion,  
Legs, Congjes, Bowings, wait upon that name  
In outward Adoration of the same.  
Indeed the country did this trick refuse,  
Because their scraping spoiled their Sunday shoo's:  
Besides being full of nails and Iron specks,  
They made a Parish charge to buy new bricks.  
To ratify all this, Cannons are made,  
And yet I think the Authors are not paid  
For that good work of theirs, but let that pass,  
This Parliament than never dreamt of was,  
Or if it were and things had come tothth' worst;  
Perhaps you thought to dash it like the first:  
Therefore in uncontrolled pride you reigned  
Virtue opposed, all vices you maintained:  
Which made men think you had an itching hope  
To be some Cardinal or little Pope.  
Whereby an ancient Proverb's verifide,  
Beggars if set on horse back, love to ride:  
Did any Minister detest these things,  
To see you Bishops rule like petty Kings  
Did they out of true zeal and conscience sake,  
A scruple of your Popish orders make:  
Cross, Surplice, Tippet, would they not allow  
To high Altar, did they scorn to bow:  
Was there no outward sign of Reverence shown  
When Jesus was pronounced, and that made known  
To your Lordship; straight off went th' offenders ears  
Though ne'er so old, no pities took of years:  
Your worship's pillory must their necks adorn  
A triple Tree they say shall serve your turn.  
They peep through wooden windows; as for you  
Gregory has a hempen Lattice fair and new.  
Men hope to see you mounted ere you die,  
I'm sorry for't my Lord, but cannot cry.  
Sure your well wishers hymns of praise will sing,  
To see you go to Heaven in a string:  
Or if not so, the common people swear,  
You'll grace the Block as well as your compeer:  
Others suppose that a Clothworkers son,  
Shall never have such honour to him don:  
Thus all men censure, none cares what they say,  
Puss being caged, the Mice may freely play.  
So in a Country pasture have I seen  
The little Lambkins skipping on a green,  
Whilst the poor wolf lies tangled in the net  
The careful shepherd for his ruin set:  
This is the talk my Lord that goes about,  
He's nobody now a days that cannot flout.  
Imprisoned Canterbury, when 'tis clear  
Your back's tomorrow all these quips to bear;  
Oh had your thoughts and stature but agreed  
Together, than all had been well indeed:  
But when such Pigmy Lords as you will cherish  
Ambitious great desires, both lightly perish.  
How true this happens to your helpless woe,  
And sad destruction, sure I am you know;  
For now you're falling 'tis the general cry  
Down with him Tyrant fie upon him fie.  
Blessed were the man could light on such good hap,  
To beat ours eyes with's Babylonian cap.  
Thus are our wits employed early and late  
With some quiet leer to break your grace's pate,  
We scorn says one his vices to applaud,  
We know the devil must have little Laud:  
O says a second, he's a gallant prize,  
And by his fall, young Gregory will rise.  
Who swears when Surplice & Lawn sleeves h'as got  
he'll send Rome's Strumpet a venereal smock.  
As for the Song which goes Blue cap for me,  
he'll have it changed to Black cap that's his fee.  
Lastly, (to pass all others) some suppose  
You have a trick of art to fetch back those  
Showed us their heels, where ever they remain,  
Or else be hanged when you come back again:  
I know you have a great desire to do it.  
Could you persuade the Parliament unto it;  
But were you sent on such an errand now,  
When should we see ye return, never we know:  
Oh 'tis whipping Time my Lord most think,  
When such as you, for fear begin to stink:  
Some run for't their Activity to show,  
Their Heads may thank their Legs, if they scape so.  
Others that cannot go; Blood sucking Leeches,  
Make Buttons backwards, and defile their breeches:  
So may you see some dogs when death draws near,  
Being lifted from the Earth perfume the air:  
Me thinks your Honour, yea your honour's head,  
Hangs in the air by a small twisted Thread:  
Which to heaven's praise, hell's joy, & London's wonder  
The Sword of Justice arrives to cut asunder.  
Alas what Remedy, if down you must,  
'Tis but a little grace transformed to Dust;  
Where Dirt and Ashes having stopped your breath,  
You'll find this truth, wages of sin is death;  
Did you expect my Lord a year ago,  
To see your glorious light extinguished so;  
Did you once dream of this disaster sad,  
Sure no, y''ve lived much better if you had.  
So have I seen the treacherous fox o'er shot,  
Pursuing his prey with rage and malice hot;  
Till in the height of's pride at unaware  
Thinking to catch the spoil, he falls i'th' snare.  
I know my Lord, you now consume your days  
In bitterness, be't spoken to your praise  
And that's good reasoned should be, so for why?  
y''ave worn whole years away in vanity:  
And yet we doubt y' are only discontented  
To see your hellish aims so well prevented.  
But is the head sick, and the members free,  
Do not our other Bishops grieve to see  
Their PROP so sorely shaken; sure they do  
For you once down they needs must tumble to;  
They know a house that Built upon the Sand,  
In time of windy storms can never stand.  
Now if great Beelzebub himself be scared  
Needs must th'inferior devils be afeard.  
Some other things I meant to write, whic I  
Will now omit t'avoid Prolixity:  
I fear already I've too tedious been,  
And that you ever judged a heinous sin.  
Therefore to close up all, let me I pray,  
Inform you what the bonny Scotchmen say:  
They hope in quiet to go home unbanged,  
And wish the causer of their coming hanged:  
And so they vow to see him ere they go,  
Then farewell England, jockey is no foe.  
Therefore my Lord, take a friends advise,  
And learn to swing adays if you be wise:  
For I'm perrwaded 'tis your honour's lot,  
To have your old bones stretched, why should you not?  
Old men must die you know, and young men may:  
When your turn comes comes, then we'll make holiday;  
And like old Israel skip and sing amain,  
To see Goliath on the mountains slain.  
My Muse grows weary Sir, and now I'll rest  
Mine own, not yours, I see the Sun's i'th' west.   

Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula Cantem.  
But some will ne'er learn wit till'its dearly taught them    

An Accrosticall Caveat to beware of Ambition  

What news is this I hear  
In all men's mouths so sweet,  
Laud's taken in the snare  
Laid for another's feet.  
Indeed I always thought  
Ambitious pride would fall  
Men's ways being lewd and nought.   

Lead them toth' pit of thrall.  
Agreat man's hope is vain  
Unless his life be just,  
Death ends his days in shame.   

And then where's human trust  
Riches will not avail  
Cold worlds be then produced  
Honour and wit will fail  
Because the'ave been abused  
In pomp and dignity  
Sometime tho he remain  
His greatness soon will be  
Obscured with foul disdain  
Proud Nimrod thus and's troop,   

Of late have lost their power  
For Babel 'gins to stoop.   

Confusion shakes their tower  
Anortherne blast hath blown  
Near thirty flat caps down  
That were so stately grown,  
Each one o'er topped the crown  
Rome wails their sudden fall,  
But 'tis in vain to roar  
Usurping Prelates shall  
Rule us in pride no more:  
Iure devino made an ass you see,  
Enland rejoice, 'tis happy news for thee.   
FINIS.