Rebels anathematised, And anatomised: OR, A satirical Salutation to the Rabble of seditious, pestiferous Pulpit-praters, with their Brethren the Weekly libelers, Railers, and Revilers, Mercurius Britannicus, with the rest of that satanical Fraternity.  
By JOHN TAYLOR.  
OXFORD, Anno Domini, 1645.   


LO, I the Man, whose stout impartial quill  
Dares venture to confront the damned Crew,  
Knaves who make will their law, and law their will,  
And from the press and Pulpit slanders spew:  
Such as with seven great Devils are possessed,  
Besides of small ones (Legions infinite)  
Whose fiery Furies doth our Peace molest,  
And to disturb us, fight, backbite, and write.  
First, Lucifer inspires 'em all with Pride,  
Next, Satan gives 'em wrath and dire disdain;  
Their malice still Belzebubs power doth guide,  
And Mammon gives 'em thirst of lawless gain;  
Belphegor is the god of Gluttony,  
And Abaddon rules Sloth and idleness,  
Last, Asmodaeus gives 'em Lechery.  
And these seven Devils the rebels do possess,  
And these have made them mad, and madly rise  
Against the Lord of Hosts, and his Anointed,  
Who by their Preaching and their printed lies,  
Our Church, laws, States, and freedoms have disjointed:  
Wither that dainty Darling of the Dolts,  
The Scout, the Scotish Dove, and the diurnal,  
These (like to Gothams' Archers) shoot their bolts,  
And madly strive the Truth to overturn all;  
Bold Booker soars above the nineteenth sphere,  
And tells us news of strange prodigious Comets,  
Portending Treasons, all which once a year  
Most astrological he squirts and vomits.  
The Scribe that writes the weeks Intelligence  
Th' Occurrents, and the flying lying post,  
To do 'em service I'll be at expense  
T' allow them every day a Gravesend Toast.  
These with the cobbling, Tub, pernicious Preachers,  
With Prinne and Burton, (Sweet-faced crop-eared curs)  
These parliamental props, these Treason Teachers,  
Have in three kingdoms kept most▪ stinking stirs;  
Therefore ye misled Coxcombs all take heed,  
Believe no more those cursed sons of Belial,  
Their damned Counsels makes poor England bleed,  
And doth from God and your allegiance steal ye all.  
Outrageous Mars hath stolen Astrea's sword,  
And wrong (with down▪ right blows) hath knocked right down,  
Whilst universally it is deplored,  
That no man can (with Justice) own his own.  
Mean men to men of means you up have mounted,  
And men of me●es you have to mean men turned,  
The worst of villains you have best accounted,  
God's peace, the King's▪ and kingdoms ye have scorned;  
London and Westminster yo'ave been the chair  
Of violence, t' Act mischiefs (by a Law)  
Prepare yourselves, expect the dismal year,  
Which you or your forefathers never saw.  
The time will come when all these royal graces,  
And peaceful offers which you scorned and slighted,  
You shall be glad to beg for, and your faces  
Full of confusion, pitiless, despited:  
Your Propositions, (Puppy sitions rather)  
Which you to Oxford saucily did bring,  
And after that to Uxbridge, men may gather  
Your meanings to the Kingd●me. Church, and King.  
You knew before you came, your bold demands  
Unfit for you to ask, or any Subjects,  
Or for a King to grant, that understands  
Himself, or loyal Servants, from base Abjects.  
Your Parliament (pretended) coins pretences,  
And to pretend Peace▪ you are still resolved,  
And still run on in treacherous offences,  
Wherein our miseries are all involved.  
Worse than the Jews, God's Houses you defile  
Worse than the Heathen, you your King contemned  
Worse than the Turks, you moral good exile  
Worse than the Sodomites, you friends condemned,  
Worse than the Atheists, you no God will know,  
Worse than the Libertines, laws down you trample,  
Worse than the Wolves, that can no mercy show,  
Worse than the devil himself, (beyond example)  
Pliny, and Gesner, and brave Mandevill,  
Have wrote of Monsters, and their savage natures;  
But never tongue of man or writers quill  
Could parallel you for most impious Creatures;  
Your bloody lives makes Nero's life no sin,  
Your faithless zeal makes Julian just and holy,  
Your loyalties like Roman Cat●line;  
Beyond their Crimes all Ages shall extol ye:  
You to more cursed cruelty are turned  
Than Idumean, Jew, Turk, Heathen, Roman.  
If the Sword spare you, you'll be hanged or burned,  
Or sterved, or die abhorred, pitied by no man.  
You have been hatching Plots four years and more,  
Contriving and suborning Forgeries,  
T' abuse the King▪ and yet will not give o'er  
To scandal him with libels and with lies.  
True Parliaments have held the names of Kings  
Of sacred Dignity, and high esteem,  
Next under God, above all earthly things,  
Their Royalties and Honours they did deem;  
And in this case, and all that you have done  
You have declared yourselves no Parliament;  
King, Church, and kingdom, you have all undone,  
Or sought their ruin, or their detriment.  
He were a cunning wiseman that could name  
One good man, that hath scaped your tyranny;  
Or one whose brain, or hands could mischief frame,  
Whom you have not advanced for villainy.  
That poyson-framing hound Britannicus,  
That weekly snarling whelp of Cerberus,  
That microcosm of Morbus Gallicus,  
That Lernaean venomed Snake of Erebus.  
The devil oft doth good, against his will,  
So you and he doth, for your damned despite  
Proves the King's good, although you wish him ill,  
And makes his royal splendour shine more bright.  
Thus may you see, you imps of impudence▪  
You mighty Gogmagog's of ignorance,  
You gulfs of most ridiculous nonsense,  
Your super-arrogating arrogance,  
You cannot do the wickedness ye would,  
But on your cursed heads it doth return;  
The devil that teacheth to blaspheme and scold,  
Cannot protect you from contempt and scorn.  
Since God's eternal Son was crucified,  
No Gracious Prince was ever more abused,  
Than good King Charles, opposed, and vilifide,  
Robbed, ransacked, and still wickedly traduced.  
And your almighty favours are extended  
To those that could revile most, or do worst;  
And by usurped power you have defended  
And armed Rebellion, which God hath accursed.  
A Parliament should cure a kingdom's griefs,  
A Parliament should public wrongs appease;  
But you in stead of giving us reliefs,  
Have made the medicine worse than the disease,  
Worse, ten times worse, ten times worse double told▪  
The worst of ills, more bad than bad can be,  
Our miseries unmeasured manifold▪  
And to three kingdoms spoil you all agree.  
Upon great Strafford first your fury fell,  
His blood must temper your untempered mortar,  
His head did hinder, you could not rebel  
To any purpose till he was cut shorter.  
Nor could you Protestant Religion cast,  
Or with such ease work its confusion further,  
Until the tenth of January last,  
You took an Arch-prop from it by foul murder.  
That Function whereof the Apostles were,  
Saint Peter and Saint James▪ and more of them,  
Records ecclesiastical▪ shows clear  
Of Sees of Antioch, and Jerusalem.  
And blessed Saint Paul, made Bishops, (as 'twas meet)  
The one young Timothy, the other Titus;  
The one of Ephesus, th' other of Crete▪  
Who by their lives and Doctrines do enlight us,  
And since for sixteen hundred years and more,  
All Christian Churches, kingdoms, Lands, and Climates  
Have been instructed in God's laws and lore  
By Reverend Bishops, Patriarchs, and Primates.  
Therefore if men would note the aim and scope  
Of these superbian haughty independents,  
Each one would in his Parish be a Pope  
To whose pipes must the King and all his men dance.  
Therefore beware, good countrymen beware,  
Beware of them, and of a new Presbytery,  
Beware their Leaven, have especial care,  
Let not their mad-brained Doctrine all besquitter ye.  
They seem t' uphold the Protestants good Cause,  
By murdering those of that Religion chief,  
Bereaving all that Clergy, without laws,  
Of life, goods, libertty, and all relief.  
They feign to purge Religion sound and sure,  
By bloody civil war, which will destroy it;  
And they will keep it neat, sincere, and pure,  
So noisome as may totally annoy it.  
Blind with rebellious or preposterous zeal  
You have possessed men with most strange opinions,  
That church's ruin is the church's weal;  
And make the King great, (but without Dominions)  
He is your sovereign for your safe protection,  
And you (like Subjects) will obey and serve him,  
Yet you no service owe him, or subjection,  
And do the worst you can to rob or starve him.  
Strife cannot be the ground of true Religion,  
Your Sects, worse than the Koran, or Talmud,  
(Like Mah'mets' zeal from's juggling, whispering Pigeon)  
Not from the Scriptures crystal Fount but all mud.  
What hath the kirk of Scotland here to do?  
Must England's Church to that be now subjected?  
We are not conquered, or made slaves I trow▪  
Or so unlearned, by them to be directed.  
Our Church with theirs doth neither meddle nor make,  
Our laws to alter theirs do not intrude;  
Why then do they presumptuous power thus take,  
And censure us, as they had us subdued?  
Must Oxford and her sister Cambridge both  
Learn of Saint Andrews, and of Aberdene?  
They to be taught of us would both be loath,  
Yet I am sure there is some odds between.  
Let Englishmen remember what they are,  
And call to mind, but what they erst have been,  
And what they must be, if they not prepare  
To shun the mischiefs they are compassed in.  
You see that our Religion and our Law  
Our foes would ruinate both root and branch,  
And captivate▪ us with a sl●vish awe,  
Or with our bloods their bloody thirst would staunch.  
Upon the Crown, the royal pair and Race,  
Upon the peers, the Clergy, Church, and Gentry,  
Without respect of Person, Time, or Place,  
To spoil all, they have made a saucy entry.  
Yet of that noble Northern Nation are  
Thousands and thousands to their sovereign true,  
And such as are not, Let consuming war  
Confound'em, or the Hangman claim his due.  
And now you Pulpiteers, and Pamphleterians.  
I take my leave in your own friendly manner;  
And you most high and mighty Westminsterians,  
Who have (too long) displayed rebellions Banner,  
For your black deeds, heaven's vengeance lies in store  
For Bourchier, yeoman's, Tomkins, Challoner,  
For Lords, Knights, Gentry, Commons, thousands more,  
Whom you have murdered by intestine war.  
The worm of conscience shall consume your lives,  
Hell and damnation shall be your just hire.  
Your children shall be miscreants, your wives  
beggared, except Repentance suage God's ire▪  
Which that it may do, I most humbly pray,  
And let our fervent prayers to Heaven ascend,  
That you may turn, before the last of May▪  
That England's miseries may have an—   
END.