To Mr. E.L. on his
MAJESTIES
Dissolving the late
Parliament at Oxford,
March 28. 1681.
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AN Atheist now must a Monster be,
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Of a strange Gigantick birth:
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His Omnipotence do's let all men see,
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That our King's a God on Earth.
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Fiat, says he by Proclamation,
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And the Parliament is created:
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He repents of his work, the Dissolution
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Makes all annihilated.
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We Scholars were expell'd awhile,
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To let the Senators in,
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But they behav'd themselves, as
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So we return agen:
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And wonder to see our Geometry School
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All round about beseated,
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Though there's no need of an Euclids rule,
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To demonstrate 'em all defeated.
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The Commons their Voting Problems would,
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In Riddles so involve,
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That what the Peers scarce understood,
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The King was forc'd to solve.
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The Commons for a good Omen chose,
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An old consulting station:
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Being glad to dispossess their Foes
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Oth' House of Convocation.
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So States-men like poor Scholars be,
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For near the usual place
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They stood, we know, for a great Degree,
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But the King deny'd their Grace.
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Though sure he must his Reason give,
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And charge them of some Crime:
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Or else by course they'l have reprieve,
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For this is the Third time.
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It was because they did begin,
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With insolent behaviour:
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And who should expiate their Sin,
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The King himself's no Saviour.
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Their Faults grew to a bulk so high,
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As Mercy did fore-stall:
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So Charter forfeited thereby,
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They must like Adam fall.
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It is resolv'd the Duke shall fail,
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A Scepter to inherit:
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Nor right nor desert shall prevail,
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Popish to plead Merit.
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Let the King respect the Duke his Brother,
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And keep affection still,
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As duly to the Church his Mother:
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In both they'l cross his will.
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They would Dissenters harmless save,
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And Penalties repeal:
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As if they'd humor Thieves, who crave
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A liberty to steal.
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Thus he that do's a Pardon lack,
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For Treason damn'd to dy,
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They'd tempt, poor man, to save his neck,
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By adding Perjury.
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The Nobles threw th' Impeachment out,
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Because, no doubt, they saw,
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'Twas best to bring his cause about,
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But not to th' Commons Law,
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But hence 'twas plaguily suspected,
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Nay 'tis resolv'd by Vote,
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That the Lords are Popishly affected,
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And stiflers of the Plot.
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The Commons courage can't endure
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To be affronted thus:
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So for the future to be sure,
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They'l be the Upper House.
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But by such Fevorish Malady,
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Their strength so soon was spent,
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That punning Wits no doubt will cry,
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Oh Weeked Parliament.
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