THE CONSPIRACY OF GUTS and BRAINS: OR AN ANSWER TO THE Twinn-Shams.  

EACH Grave Oracular Wight about the Town,  
Has learned to rail and bark against the Gown;  
And Light-within-men with a full Mouthed cry  
Run down the Heights of Church and Monarchy:  
These are the Rods and Axes, Whips and Arms,  
The fancied Causes of Old England's harms:  
Away with such poor Bards to some fit School;  
Send 'em to th' Wise, and less fantastic Owl:  
He ne'er does challenge the sweet Nightingale,  
With his corpse Notes, and downright Evening-Tale,  
Nature is his Director; and when He  
Holds forth by Night, either in Barn, or Tree,  
Ne'er dreams of Inward Light, or turns vain Fool;  
Ne'er did he yet pretend to be a gifted Owl;  
And surely He's much wiser of the Two,  
That does at Nature's Call, sing Hoo, ho, ho,  
Than he that 'gainst all Natural Light does bawl,  
And play the Fool i'th' language of Saint Paul.   

Those boding Ills, which Men of Thought do fear,  
Worse than the dark Events of generous War,  
Come from the Chair Infallible, and Tub,  
From Subtle Jesuit, and unthinking Mob.   

Whate'er men's hearts does with dire horror shake,  
The Wolf in peaceful garb, the gilded Snake,  
Thunder and Storms, and rank infernal Spite,  
Are summed up in one Word, a Jesuit:  
A Jesuit! Legion thou makest me start;  
Ith' Name of Holy Mother Church, What art?  
Giant or Monster, or some Goblin dressed  
In Angels Colours fair above the rest  
Of the Black Orders; like th' Old Serpent wise,  
Or Romish Imp in Protestant Disguise?  
For sure thy Name's a Charm should conjure up  
Old Gregory the Great, and all the Troop  
Of his Admirers, force 'em to disown  
Th' inglorious Name of Reformation.  
Of all the Ills that e'er came Imped from Hell,  
There's none more dangerous than Fanatic Zeal.  
The Great Physician of our Soul could nee'er  
Vanquish this kind of Raging Calenture:  
Whores, Debauchees, and Devils he restrained,  
But Scribes and Pharisees his Power disdained,  
Like Great Alphonso, who so proudly taught  
Omniscience doted, when the World was wrought,  
They did convincing Miracles outface,  
And sought to bring the Godhead to disgrace:  
Such wild Religious Frenzy than did rage;  
And such lewd Zeal infects the present Age:  
Bawds, Common Rogues, and Villains still relent,  
Through fear of Hell or Gibbet can repent:  
But Jesuits Eternally drive on,  
And count the Axe and Halter their Renown:  
As if Zacheus-like, they climbed the Tree,  
Th' Al'mighty Saviour of the World to see:  

They are God's Holy jacob's, and can ' spy  
Angels descending to 'em from an High,  
When they the Ladder mount, when called to die.   
Kind Heaven that would restrain 'em is drawn in  
To be a Friend and Party in the Sin:  
Conscience itself turns bawd to such Abuses,  
Each Lust is set apart for Pious Uses.   

Such are the Men, that in Religious Fashion  
would at once Ruin and Reform our Nation;  
That Thunder at us with Insulting Breath,  
Vengeance and Woes, a Pulpitful of Death.  
Damnation sweeps us all: They're not so civil  
To us, as Origen was to the Devil.  
While to themselves most happy and secure,  
No Thought, no Word, or Action is Impure;  
They're meek while they do Damn, kind when they kill,  
And Holy, while they Act the grossest Ill;  
Most Rare Defenders of the Public Good,  
Even while they Revel in a Kingdom's Blood.   

Such Saintship is mere Juggle and Romance;  
Such Peace of Soul is Lethargy and Trance,  
Their Worship's Mummery, their Creed's a Spell,  
Their Faith is Witchcraft, and a Type of Hell:  
And should they Dying such vile Thoughts, retain,  
Though they were placed in Heaven, they'd fall again:  
They'd soon Commence Incendiaries there,  
And raise a new Commotion 'bove the Sphere.   

2.  
Bless me what Ills have my Forefathers done?  
Or what have I transacted 'bove the Sun,  
Ith' pre-Existent State of Humane Souls,  
When Spirits first transgressed their Maker's Rules  
That I should live Sentenced and Doomed to see  
Such Solemn, Staunch, Religious Knavery;  

To see a Dire Impostor act the Fool,  
And Tumbler-like show Tricks upon a Stool,  
Sweat three long hours, and then sit down and cool:   

To hear a Roman Cutthroat in Disguise  
With Holy Wheedle and Embroidered Lies,  
The poor Deluded Mobile Surprise.   
How are good People ravished at the sight,  
Legerdemain o'th' Sanctimonious Wight,  
When he with powerful Sin-confounding Face,  
A Gracious Wink, soft Leer, and Whining Grace  
Has done his Righteous Cant? Ah, verily  
'Tis a good Man, cries each Professing She;  
An Upright, , Gifted Man,  
My overshadowed here's Soul-dead'ning pain  
Is start aside at Words that came along,  
Like Fatness, Oil, and Marrow from his Tongue:  
The precious Ointment of Soul-searching Grace  
Ran down his Soul, as sweat ran down his Face:  
O nothing's sure so sweet and powerful  
As this Divine Anointing of the Soul  
Then speaks a Brother Sanctifi'd and Wise,  
A Spiritual Light within me does arise,  
Such as self seeking Hirelings can't infuse,  
That sinful Forms, and vain Aprocyphas use:  
What Wisdom can such graceless ones inherit,  
That Preach without th● Licence of the Spirit?  
This Zealous Light-Infusing Man of Grace  
Has ta'en my Carnal Eyes quite from my Face;  
Taught my Regenerate Eyesight to behold  
No things that favour rankly of this World,  
But that above, where Righteous Brother Del,  
Pym, Hobson, Hacket, Field, and Debman dwell.  
He taught us to Instruct our Souls by Night  
With Prayer of Faith, and Word of Inward Light;  
And then proud Babylon's downfall we shall see,  
For why, the Chosen of the Lord are we:  
Thousands have sighed, Ten Thousands in the Land  
Have wish'● the days of Zion were at hand:  

Lately Mob met, and Pin man from a Stall  
Cried Sufferings, Sufferings (Lord!) Tyrannical  
Ah, Brethren! Carnal Powers must have a fall:   
Then many a Tear did drop, and many a Sigh,  
Enough to raise a Fog i'th' room, did fly.  
Mean time i'th' midst o'th' Prick-eared Crowd did stand  
Mob's Secretary, called the Short-hand-Man;  

A Scribe in Querpo with a shortcut Cloak,  
And Sage Prophetic Beard, which made him look  
Like Famed Philosopher's Phiz in Fortune Book.   
His trusty head was covered with blurred Skin,  
One side bespoke him Midas, t'other Pryn:  
With side-long Nod it sometimes seemed to roll,  
Like an o're-leaded, or ill-biased Bowl.  

A Julians Leer, and Ominous Grimace  
This Minor Prophet had, you soon would trace  
The Lines of Reformation in his Face.   
Meagre and Thin, like Benedict in Cell,  
When Devil in a Pet had broke his Bell.   

He had, to note his Eminence and Fame  
Some hardish Sinner-shaking Christian Name;  
Far beyond Habakkuk or Obadiah,  
The Doughty Armour-bearer to Goliath  
Looked not so fell: A Superstitious Wight  
Had crossed himself at the portentous sight.  

His Left Hand Book, his Right a Pen did bear;  
Two Pens in Ambuscade, within Cropped Hair,  
Above the Hilts were stuck behind notched Ear.   
At every pon'drous Sentence, and each proof  
He wrote; yet knew to stop at every Cough:  
So well instructed Steed will stand or go,  
At Driver's Signal given by Jee or Ho.  
It seems this Holy Penman (so he's styled)  
Showed strange Prophetic Omens, when a Child;  
At Two years old, and half, the Suckling Saint  
Before he well could speak, had learned to Cant:  
It look demurely, made a hideous Game  
At Rites and Forms; and trembled at the Name  
Of Horned Beast; as if Mad Tom had blown  
Or  Sow gelder were come to Town.   

He got his Fame by a kind hurt i'th' Skull,  
And soon did Wise Commence by being Dull  
So a Famed 
* The Famous Dr. Willis gives an account of a Fool belonging to the Court of Corduba, that in the height of a Malignant  became wonderfully Acute (the heat of the Distemper dissipating the Mists and Clouds that oppressed his Brain before) and continued so to the Day of his Death.  Idiot i'th' Court of Spain  
Grew up a Wit by a Disease i'th' Brain;  
And Loyola by being Craized and Lame  
The Author of a Mighty Sect became:  
Now our Renowned and Perilous Scribe's become  
The Great Shop-Theologue of all the Town:  
And, in pursuit of Holy Teacher's Rules,  
Leads on a Pack of dangerous Lusty Tools.  
If he but speak, loud Slaves shall make Reply,  
And Thundering Zealots shake the Trembling Sky;  
They that cry Nails, and Knives from Door to Door,  
Shall start up Grand Reformers in an hour;  
And all by Light infused: As once a Clown  
Fancied his 
* Burton. Melanc. (out of Lud. Viu.) if I well remember) tells of an honest well-meaning Country Fellow, riding upon an Ass over a River by Night; The Image of the Moon appearing in the Water, and the Ass chancing to drink, on a sudden a Cloud interposed, and the Moon's Face disappeared; Upon which the Timorous Swain, thinking the Beast had devoured it, cut her open, to find out the Moon again, and restore it to the World.  Ass had swallowed up the Moon.   

In the last place, to help the Brethren's wants,  
Joyns a long Train of Under-graduate Saints,  
Called 
† A True Moderate Man is an Excellent and Laudable Character: But here I speak of the Common Abusive Sense of the words: Which I thought fit to subjoin, to prevent Knackish Constructions.  Moderate Men; of Humane kind the blot;  
A Mongrel Brood 'twixt Englishman and Scot:  
A Medley Rout, a Particoloured Pack;  
Like Tawny 'twixt a White Man and a Black.  
Equivocal Non sense, sprung from Clouds and Dreams!  
For every Sect's a mean betwixt Extremes.  
The Jew, the Papalin, and Mussel-Man  
May all lay claim to th' Golden Name of Mean.  
Thus half Wit is of middle Excellence  
'Twixt downright Folly, and Exalted Sense:  
And th' Airy Kingdom where Black Daemons dwell,  
Is owned a middle Stage 'twixt Heaven and Hell.   

The Spruce bespangled Fop, that pores on Miss,  
And sells his Manly Freedom for a Kiss,  
Who free from future harms, and void of fears,  
His Heaven like Atlas, on his Shoulders wears,  
And shows his Wisdom chief in his Dress,  
On which depends his Fame, and Happiness;  
Is scarce more vile than that Vainglorious Clod,  
That plays with decent forms, before his God.  
Mischief's his Darling Province and Delight,  
He goes to Church not out of Zeal, but Spite:  
He quarrels with the Prayers which he does use,  
And what he swallows, up again he Spews:  
He Nauseates Manna, Loathes his daily Food;  
And truly hath no Stomach to be good.  

The Church which he frequents, he seeks t' undo,  
By which dull Ambidexter let's you know,  
His highest flights of Zeal are Paint and Show.   
Thus is he, (for he knows not this we hope)  
Blind Fiddler to the Jesuit and the Pope.   

By him poor Honest Tobit's left i'th' Lurch,  
And with his Dog lashed,, and turned out o'th' Church:  
Bel and the Dragon too he does Impeach,  
Like him that took Cabala for a Witch:  
A Picture on a Wall, or Window spread,  
Confounds him worse than Hag Medusa's head;  
And makes him puling, sick, and languishing,  
As Image once did 
* The Scottish History's tell us, that King Duff's Sickness was the Effect of Witchcraft; and occasioned by an Image of Wax roasted at a distance from him: As the Image wasted, so did his Body consume, and his Spirits fail: But the Plot being discovered, and the Image taken, and removed, the Distemper went off by degrees.  duff, a Scottish King.   

But above all, he shoots his Scorn and Pride  
Against his own (ah! too conforming) guide:  
He joins with zealous Gossips to run down  
The poor Ungracious Parson of the Town,  
And with a Fate-denouncing brow can preach  
Judgement, and Woe, to th' Unregenerate Wretch:   

The Gravest Saints in Corners sweetly join,  
Club o'er the Creature, and Cabal in Wine:  
Sisters with Caudles safely may prepare  
Dear Holderforth for a New Spiritual War,  
And with strong Cordials arm the thundering Wight,  
As Dutch drink Brandy when they go to fight:  
But if the Man in Black but chance to meet  
With Friend, to sacrifice to Mirth and Wit;  
Each sneering Fop lies squibbling at his Fame,  
And brands him with some Antichristian Name:  

If in his Life seven times (as may the best)  
He chance to fall; his very Name's a Jest;  
He's dubbed the Man of Sin, and thought the Beast.   
Nay, if he rise but up to Sol'mon's Rule,  
Is gay and pleasant, he's a Carnal Fool;  
While he, that's drunk with Frantic Zeal and Rage,  
Is th' only wise and sober Man o'th' Age.  
Poor Noah, David, Lot, and good Saint Paul  
By our Precisians rules do sentenced fall;  
While Scribes and Pharisees alone possess  
The Seats of Glory, and the Land of Bliss.  

I challenge all Mankind to prove't untrue,  
Should Christ himself his Life on Earth renew,  
They'd call him Bibber and Deceiver too:   
He would their Spleen, and Choleric Zeal enrage,  
By taxing the lewd Saints o'th' present Age.   

'Tis pleasant to observe, how each grave Wretch,  
Or Whining Oracle has learned to fetch,  
And carry News; and foot it up and down  
To purchase Tales of every Canting Clown:  
If sped, he triumphs; if he fails, he grieves;  
For on such Rubbish he depends and lives.  
His tender, nice, distempered, squeamish Soul  
Feeds upon Trash, and Stories that are foul:  
These are his Daily Bread, his Morning Draught,  
His Midnight Exercise, and waking Thought.  
With a shrewd Nod he'll sometimes intimate  
Somewhat he can, but won't Communicate:  
You'd think he had Degree of Wiseman took  
From Hieroglyphic Schemes, or Almanack-Book.   

Next 'twards the King his random course he steers;  
And Honours him, just as his God he fears:  
If Rulers will his Darling Ends advance,  
He deviates into Loyalty by chance:  
But still the Sacred Rights of Majesty  
Are beams o'th' Multitude, not Deity:  
O rare Invention! a poor senseless Clod  
Become th' Almighty Parent of a God.  
Eternal Chaos of distracted thought!  
Surely to such Transub's an easy draught.  
Power can no more this dull way be infused,  
Than out of Matter sprightly form educed.  
Vapours may cloud the Sun, not make it bright.  
And Mob may Kings Eclipse, not give 'em Light.  
Thrice wretched they, 've learned th' accursed thing  
To Dawbney Divinity, and Debase a King;  
A Notion which all Sacred Claim destroys;  
And the tame Monarch all his Life enjoys  
A Dream of Majesty, a Fairy Crown,  
A Mummer's Sceptre, and a Play'er's Throne.   

(May Valiant William share a Nobler Fate;  
And ever live, as he does fight, in State.)   

Such Men may search for Truth in Pagan Schools,  
And learn Allegiance from rude Indian Scrolls:  
They never think on Means, but view the End;  
And serve their God, as Montaigne would his Friend.  
And when 've Libelled Kings, and Temples stormed;  
They even may go to Rome to be Reformed.    

Printed and are to be Sold by the Booksellers of London and Westminster. Price 3 d.   

ADVERTISEMENT.  
THE Loyal and Impartial Satirist: Containing Eight Miscellany Poems. Price 6 d.  
A Posy for Lovers: Or the Terrestrial Venus Unmasked. Price 6 d. Both Printed for Thomas Speed, at the Three Crowns in Cornhill, near the Royal Exchange. 1694.