Or else an old fanatic author lies,
Who summ'd their scandals up by centuries:
But through your parable I plainly see
The bloody laws, the crowd's barbarity;
The sunshine that offends the purblind sight:
Had some their wishes it would soon be night.
Mistake me not, the charge concerns not you;
Your sons are malecontents, but yet are true,
As far as non-resistance makes 'em so;
But that's a word of neutral sense you know,
A passive term, which no relief will bring,
But trims betwixt a rebel and a king.
Rest well assur'd, the Pardelis reply'd,
My sons would all support the regal side,
Tho' Heav'n forbid the cause by battle should be
The matron answer'd with a loud Amen,
And thus pursu'd her argument again :
If, as you say, and as I hope no less,
Your sons will practise what yourselves profess,
What angry pow'r prevents our present peace ?
The Lion, studious of our common good,
Desires, and kings desires are ill withstood,
To join our nations in a lasting love;
The bars betwixt are easy to remove,
For sanguinary laws were never made above,
If you condemn that prince of tyranny,
Whose mandate forc'd your Gallic friends to fly,
Make not a worse example of your own;
Or cease to rail at causeless rigour shown,
And let the guiltless person throw the stone.
His blunted sword your suff'ring brotherhood
Have seldom felt; he stops it short of blood:
But you have ground the persecuting knife,
And set it to a razor-edge on life.
Curst be the wit which cruelty refines,
Or to his father's rod the scorpion's joins;
Your finger is more gross than the great mo-
narch's loins.
But you, perhaps, remove that bloody note,
And stick it on the first reformer's coat,
Oh let their crime in long oblivion sleep:
'Twas theirs indeed to make, 't is your's to keep,
Unjust or just, is all the question now;
'Tis plain that not repealing you allow.
To name the Test would put you in a rage;
You charge not that on any former age,
But smile to think how innocent you stand,
Arm'd by a weapon put into your hand';
Yet still remember that you wield a sword
Forg'd by your foes against your sov'reign lord;
Design'd to hew th' imperial cedar down,
Defraud succession, and dis-heir the crown.
T' abhor the makers, and their laws approve,
Is to hate traitors, and the treason love.
What means it else, which now your children say,
We made it not, nor will we take away?
Suppose some great oppressor had, by slight Of law, disseis'd your brother of his right, Your common sire surrend'ring in a fright; Would you to that unrighteous title stand, Left by the villain's will to heir the land? More just was Judas, who his Saviour sold; The sacrilegious bribe he could not hold, Nor hang in peace, before he render'd back the gold. What more could you have done than now you do, Had Oates and Bedlow, and their plot been true? Some specious reasons for those wrongs were found; Their dire magicians threw their mists around, And wise men walk'd as on inchanted ground; But now when time has made th' imposture plain, (Late though he follow'd Truth, and limping held
Cagain What new delusion charms your cheated eyes
The painted harlot might awhile bewitch,
But why the hag uncas'd, and all obscene with itch?
The first reformers were a modest race;
Our peers possess'd in peace their native place;
And when rebellious arms o'erturn'd the state,
They suffer'd only in the common fate:
But now the sov'reign mounts the regal chair,
And mitred seats are full, yet David's bench is bare.
Your answer is they were not dispossest;
They need but rub their metal on the Test,
To prove their ore; 'twere well if gold alone
Were touch'd and try'd on your discerning stone;
But that unfaithful Test unsound will pass,
The dross of Atheists and sectarian brass;
As if th' experiment were made to hold
For base production, and reject the gold.
Thus men ungodded may to places rise,
And sects may be preferr'd without disguise;
No danger to the church or state from these;
The Papist only has his writ of Ease.
No gainful office gives him the pretence
To grind the subject, or defraud the prince.
Wrong conscience, or no conscience, may deserve
To thrive, but ours alone is privileg'd to starve.
Still thank yourselves, you cry; your noble race
We banish not, but they forsake the place;
Our doors are open; true, but ere they come,
You toss your 'censing Test, and fume the room;
As if 'twere Toby's rival to expel,
And fright the fiend who could not bear the smell.
To this the Panther sharply had reply'd;
But having gain'd a verdict on her side,
She wisely gave the loser leave to chide;
Well satisfy'd to have the butt and peace,
And for the plaintiff's cause she car'd the less, 760
Because she su'd in forma pauperis:
Yet thought it decent something should be said,
For secret guilt by silence is betray'd:
So neither granted all, nor much deny'd,
But answer'd with a yawning kind of pride.
Methinks such terms of proffer'd peace you bring,
As once Æneas to the Italian king;
By long possession all the land is mine;
You strangers come with your intruding line,
To share my sceptre, which you call to join.
You plead, like him, an ancient pedigree,
And claim a peaceful seat by Fate's decree.
In ready pomp your sacrificer stands,
T'unite the Trojan and the Latin bands,
And, that the league more firmly may be tied,
Demand the fair Lavinia for your bride.
Thus plausibly you veil th' attended wrong,
But still you bring your exil'd gods along ;
And will endeavour, in succeeding space
Those household puppets on our hearths to place.
Perhaps some barb'rous laws have been preferr'd;
I spake against the Test, but was not heard;
These to rescind, and peerage to restore,
My gracious sov’reign would my vote implore;
I owe him much, but owe my conscience more.
Conscience is then your plea, reply'd the Dame,
Which, well inform'd, will ever be the same:
Butyour's is much of the Camelion hue,
To change the dye with ev'ry distant view.
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